Sue Storm Cheating 3

Thank mutant God, his apartment in the city still had some liquor left from the last time he'd had to crash there. Logan sat in his easy chair—the one chair in the spider-hole—and drank from the bottle. Kid's body wasn't used to it. Nearly coughed it up. Logan forced more down.

Wasn't like he could rightly get up to anything in some punk kid's body; best if he just enjoyed his newfound ability to get drunk without a fucking healing factor harshing his buzz. Chuck would get him back into his own body some time, hopefully before he had to deal with the hangover. After the kid had gotten some from Red in his body, least he could do was deal with some pink elephants.

Then his phone rang. Not his phone—the one in the backpack he'd been lugging around for the kid, with the Star Wars ringtone. Groaning, he dug around in it, finally upending the bag and picking up the phone from the detritus. Mary Jane Watson. The redhead from detention. Well, far be it for Logan to spoil the kid's chances with a red slice.

"Whaddya want?"

"Peter, turn on the news!"

Logan paused to take a drink. "Why?" he asked after he finished.

"There's a hostage situation! Some crazy Kraven the Hunter groupies have taken people hostage!"

"Sucks to be them, I guess."

Her voice went shrill with disbelief. "That's your reaction to people being taken hostage?"

"No, that's my reaction to Kraven the Hunter having groupies."

Sensing he'd be in for some whining if he didn't, Logan fetched his remote and turned the TV on. The Playboy Channel came on full blast, stereo surround sound, before Logan got the local news on. Sorry, kid. Gotta leave you hanging the bag on that one.

Yeah, he saw it. Two women calling themselves the Kravinoffs had taken a fucking zoo hostage and were demanding their boy toy be released to them. Cops were being useless. Ultimates were out of town. Looked like a job for Superman or some shit.

"Eh, SWAT can handle it. What d'ya think they get paid for?"

"Peter, now is not the time for your Spider-Man No More BS! Liz is in there!"

"Who?"

"Liz Allan! Our friend! Are you drunk?"

"You're only drunk if you can't handle your liquor."

"God, Peter, I cannot deal with this right now! I spent half the day in detention, I might not even be straight, and now my best friend is being held hostage. Put on your costume and do something!"

"Wait, what wuz that about you being a lesbian?"

She hung up on him. Logan looked down at the pile of Parker's shit on the floor. Yup, there was a costume.

No fucking way he was wearing that.

***

Unfortunately, Jean's powers were too limited to pull the schematics to the device from someone in the know, but she could project her consciousness into the collars themselves and translate their inner workings into the projection of Peter's room. A reproduction of the inhibitor collar, ten times life-size, appeared in the air above Peter's bed.

"Cool. Can we, uh?" He gestured at it.

"What?" Jean asked.

"You know, like in Minority Report? Open it up and see the little holographic bits."

"Not a computer, Pete. You want me to do something, you're going to have to tell me what it is. And say please."

"Alright. Give me a cross-section. Please."

The collar dutifully split in two.

"And… spin it a little?"

It started spinning.

"Beautiful. Looks like—I'm not saying it is—it looks like the tech Reed Richards uses to control rowdy nonterrestrials."

"Wow! Gee-whiz! You're so smart!" Alison cheered mockingly. "How do we switch it off, brainiac?"

Peter propped himself up on one elbow. "It's designed not to be turned off, unless you're damn sure the Person of Mass Destruction you've slapped it on is done being a jerk. But Reed's is designed with a crybaby circuit. It gets damaged or impaired in any way, it sends out a distress signal so even if the deactivation is authorized, SHIELD or whoever is in the loop. This doesn't have that. It has—"

"An explosive," Kitty finished. She sat down on the bed next to him. "I think you're smart," she whispered, most sincere.

He smiled at her. "So we don't disable the collar. We disable the explosive. Then we just cut it off."

"With what?" Piotr asked plaintively, then saw Peter holding up his hands. "Oh. Da. Your borrowed body's adamantium claws. Yes. Forget I said anything."

"Jean, think you have enough mojo to move this bit—" Peter pointed into the halved collar. "Out of alignment?"

"It'll look bad if I don't try," she shot back.

"Good. We do everyone's before we start taking them off. I'll go last." He grinned a little fatalistically. "Not my body, after all."

Kitty swooned a little.

***

In the holding cell, there was absolute quiet. The X-men did not even think loudly out of fear Jean would be distracted and set off a collar's explosive charge. Fortunately, the X-Men had been drilled on going thoughtless. Unfortunately, Spider-Man had not.

"The theme to Tiny Toons?" Jean cried. "Really?"

"Sorry, I can't stop thinking. I go to public school, it would make things a lot easier, but I just can't!"

Allison pulled up her shirt. She was not wearing a bra.

Peter did not look away.

"Thank you," Jean said, relieved.

The newfound silence was quickly shattered. From outside came a sound of hissing, fizzling, gnashing. Everyone's ears pricked up, but only Peter spoke.

"What's that?"

"SAM sites," Piotr answered. "I smuggled them during my time with the Russian Mafia."

Jean stood, giving her stiff neck a crack. She'd deactivated everyone's collar but Peter's, but this made her think they didn't have much time. And if it went off, he did have a healing factor, after all… "Someone's taking the fight to Genosha, which gives us our shot. Peter, cut us loose, fast."

***

Like giving myself a haircut, Peter thought as he tried to get a claw into his tight-fitting inhibitor without snikting himself. It was a lot harder trying to do it to himself. When the wall turned into an unappetizing close-up of Mojo's face, he gave himself a shaving nick.

"You think you're smart, don't you?" Mojo roared.

Peter frantically tried to wiggle a claw under his collar again. "Well, none of us list Jabba the Hutt as our thinspiration." Jean gave him a quick psychic tweet: Stay in character. "…bub."

"I see you still haven't removed yours. Idiot! The others' collars were just to keep them in line. If worst came to worst, I was only ever going to activate yours!"

"That's stupid," Allison observed. "He's Wolverine. He can heal from anything. See?"

Using the amplified sound of Mojo's breathing on the audio pick-up, she blew off Peter's earlobe.

It grew back.

"I can still feel pain! Bub!"

"Idiots!�� Mojo said again. "His collar doesn't kill him! It doses him with an excess of dopamine. Oh yes, Logan, I'm well-aware of your berserker rages—the anger that comes with a lifetime of pain and regret! It's already injected you! And with our custom serum flowing through your veins, you'll kill everyone around you, friend or foe. We've already evacuated your sector and locked it down, so there's no one else to face the beast except your team. Not that you'll remember any of this in an hour's time, but make sure to pre-order the Blu-Ray on our website in case you want to know which of your friends you cannibalized."

Storm blasted the screen with a quick bolt of lightning. The cameras on the same circuit exploded in firecracker-pops.

Then Peter noticed everyone was looking at him.

"Look, guys, I really don't have a berserker rage, so I don't think this is going to do anything too extreme to me. Maybe I'll just get real mad about the Phantom Menace again. Or maybe—"

Piotr pointed down.

Peter looked. His erection was pushing out the crotch of his pants so hard, he might as well have shoved a can of Pringles down there.

***

Colossus charged the cell door once more, bending the Carbonadium bars a little more. It was slow-going; the stuff was nearly as strong as Adamantium. Jean ignored the clang of Piotr's organic steel body against their captivity. Reestablishing a psychic link-up with the X-Men was just as important.

She opened her eyes. "Alright, the other X-Men are okay. The Reavers have been called off them to deal with some kind of incursion. I'm getting a lot of secondary thoughts about the Brotherhood—"

Allison snorted. "Good to know your boyfriend finally showed."

"He's not my—" "Not her boyfriend," Jean and Storm said, almost at once.

"Whatever."

"Nightcrawler's on his way here now," Jean continued. "Once he's in, he can teleport us right outside. But first, I want to find the Professor. They've got him stashed somewhere in this building, so as soon as Colossus has the door down, we're going to spread out and find him—"

A hinge came off the door, flying through the air to smack the ceiling. Jean took an involuntary step back and found herself pressed against Peter.

The last time she'd noticed him, he'd tucked himself into a corner with his hands over his crotch, apologizing even as Kitty tried to assure him it was okay. But obviously he'd taken a few steps away from the wall, because Jean could feel his cock right on her ass. God, it was so hard…

He wrapped his arms around her midsection, his stubble burning between her shoulder blades as he rubbed his face there. She could feel him right through her costume. The imitation material of the replica was far too cheap and far too thin.

"Peter…" she said gently, hoping the others hadn't noticed.

"You're so damn sexy," he muttered, his voice seeming to vibrate into her where his chest pressed into her back.

His hand dipped down into her pants, fingers touching her revealing to them both how wet she was. She could feel his thought burning into her: knew you didn't get enough.

Jean felt his other hand pulling down the seat of her pants. She could feel that thought too. It was on fire. He was going to fuck her from behind, like a dog. Like she was a bitch in heat.

"So… you guys need a minute?" Storm asked.

It was hard to tell who pulled away from who fastest. Peter backed in the corner again, covering his groin with his hands like he'd taken a punch there, while Jean practically hopped getting her pants back up around her waist.

"Sorry, sorry—" Peter was saying.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Alison said.

"Animal-beast-thing," Jean likewise explained.

"I'm so sure."

Peter took a deep breath, for the first time noticing that Colossus had gotten the door open. "Listen, you guys go on, defend a world that hates and fears you without me. I'd just… distract you. I think I'll stay here and think about baseball."

"You could always… drochit," Piotr said considerately.

"Uh, no offense, but on the long list of things I'd like to touch, Wolverine's wang is way below 'a dolphin'."

"We can't just leave him here," Storm argued. "What if someone stumbles across him in this state and gets hurt? The boy has no experience controlling Logan's urges."

"Well, teenage boy, high school relationship—I've got some practice controlling urges."

"I will stay," Piotr said. "He cannot harm me."

"Piotr, you're our heavy hitter," Jean said. "We're going to need you on deck for this one."

"I'll stay," Alison volunteered. "Everyone else has phenomenal fucking cosmic power, or is completely useless like Kitty."

"Hey!"

"I can zap 'im in the nads if he gets out of line."

Peter made a face, but said nothing, agreeing with the necessity of it. Jean looked over her team, turning the idea over in her head. For once, Alison had a point, and no one else was volunteering. She signaled the other X-men to file out. "Just watch him. Try to talk him down. Keep his mind occupied. And keep your distance."

"Not the first time I've needed to deal with a horny Canadian with the mind of a teenage boy," Alison said. "Go. Do your lame Superfriends thing."

Jean left hurriedly with the others. She didn't want to linger on this. She'd gotten Peter into this situation, and if he came out of this having traumatized himself or anyone else, she'd never forgive herself.

As soon as they were gone, Alison walked across the cell to where Peter was crouched. She sat down on her haunches and looked him in the eye.

"Thank you for doing this, Alison," he said distantly.

She smiled at him, running her hands through her spiked hair. "Call me Ali."

Silver Sable caught sight of the Spider-Man on camera 5. As she'd suspected, he was headed to the zoo to deal with the Huntresses. That is, if it was him. He didn't seem to be wearing the same costume.

***

Elektra watched Spider-Man enter the zoo. She was not a cold woman. She would let him save his precious hostages before she killed him.

What the fuck was he wearing, though?

***

Sasha Kravinoff watched the dark shape approaching fast through the glass that secured her fortress. The Spider. Some things were a constant no matter the universe.

"Ana!" she called to her daughter, her voice thick with her Slavic roots. "Get up here! I need you!"

The sixteen-year-old was dressed much like herself, though while Sasha left herself bare besides her bodysuit, Ana wore a safari jacket over hers. Besides that, they were next to identical, distinguished primarily by Sasha's cruel expression and short-shorn black hair, while Ana's face was more blankly engaged, her hair a long ponytail of gold. And she showed every sign of developing as voluptuously as her mother.

Hearing her mother's call, Ana stopped toying with the hostages and ran up to join Sasha in the topmost portion of the enclosed commissary that sheltered them from the police. Both were armed heavily, favoring stolen Starktech weapons in favor of their more traditional arsenal. They were taking no chances in this strange place.

They watched the Spider approach, then crash through a high eyebrow window that no one else could've managed. He came down in a hail of broken glass and they were finally able to get a good look at him. Black boots. Leather pants. A wifebeater under a leather jacket, with only the gloves and mask showing red and blue.

"Is he gay in this universe?" Ana asked her mother.

"Fuck you, lady," Spider-Man spat. "I realized halfway here that I didn't put my beer in the fridge, so fuck if it ain't getting cold. So can you psycho bitches just throw down the guns or do I have to listen to your whole spiel?"

Sasha was silent for a long moment. Then: "Spider-Man! It is only natural ve'd meet. Surely you vonder why someone would vant to secure the release of so odious a man as this dimension's reality TV host…"

"No. I don't care. Quit yakking and shoot at me so I can jump around and whatever the fuck."

Ana gave Sasha a look. Then she unloaded at Spider-Man.

***

"You might not want to get so close," Peter said, trying to cross his legs to better hide his erection. It was hard, sitting on his ass. His penis kept popping up from his cross-legged stance. "I can kinda… smell you… and stuff."

"S'cool," Ali said. "Just wondering, why Jean?"

Peter ground the heel of his hand into his eye. God, he could really smell her… "Why Jean what?"

"Well, we all know what you and her did." Ali smiled off-kilter. "Could hear it from here. But was she really so good you wanted seconds or do you just not have anything to compare it to?"

As bad as Peter's day had been, he was still something of a guy and he did not like Ali���s insinuation. "Hey! I've got plenty to compare it to, lady!"

"Oh yeah?"

Peter leaned forward. "Sue frickin' Storm, for one! And… okay, that's all, but still! She's a celebrity, she should count as two or even three other women."

"Easy, nerd, didn't mean anything by it." Peter's shift had caused another slippage, allowing Ali to trace the outline of his cock with her eyes. "I'm just sayin', you're here in a room with three hot bitches and Kitty Pryde, and you go for the flavor you've already tried? Did you like it that much or did you just think she wouldn't stop you?"

"I, uh, I mean, well…" Peter scratched his head, and Ali could swear, thinking about it was making his bulge twitch.

"Shit, it's hot in here." Ali peeled off her crop top, leaving her in a bra studded with metal and capri pants, and a lot of tattoos. "You wanna take something off too? Nothing I'm not gonna see anyway once I torrent you and the redhead getting it on."

"Uhhhhh…"

"Is that it? Got a thing for redheads? I know the stripe in my hair is blue, but," she grinned fiercely, "you never know what else might be dyed."

***

It was amazing, Peter thought, how unselfconscious Ali was about undressing in front of a total stranger. He almost would've applauded it—seemed very empowering—but he was seeing the downside of having Logan's healing factor. Before, what he'd done with Jean would've emptied out his reserves for a good 48 hours. Now, maybe fifteen minutes later, his balls felt like they would explode. If he'd just swapped minds, he would've believed this body hadn't gotten off in six months.

"I mean," Ali continued, doffing her bra to reveal a pierced nipple and a tattoo of a heart in her cleavage. "You do wanna fuck me, right?" Standing, she wiggled out of her capri pants. How did he know she wasn't wearing panties? "And I know I wanna fuck you…"

The hulking musculature of Wolverine's swapped body was shaking like a leaf, so hard that the beads of sweat on his brow were regularly being tossed into the air.

"Could at least buy me dinner first," he gasped hoarsely.

Ali patted one huge bicep lovingly. "Easy there, tex. See, I always heard you were a bit of a stick in the mud. I just want to know what it'll take to get the stick out. So don't worry; we're definitely going to fuck."

At the profanity, Peter gulped hard. "That's… a little reassuring."

"But first, bitch, we're gonna see what it takes to make you lose control." She began hauling Peter's legs out from the hunched-up position he had them in.

Peter fought his own body, but in the end, he was splayed-legged and his cock was making a basket out of the crotch of his jeans. "That's really crazy, Ali."

"No, that's metal as hell." And Ali put a small hand with quite a few rings on his thigh, squeezing lightly, pleased with the solid muscle underneath the blue denim. And with the bulge between his legs.

She ran her hand up his inseam. Peter gritted his teeth together and laughed nervously through them.

"Uh, Ali—you sure this is metal? Not punk rock? Outlaw country?"

"Shhhhh," she urged him. "Don't touch me, Peter. I touch you. I touch you until I say otherwise. I don't want you to fuck me just yet, motherfucker. I just want to see what your cock looks like."

Eyeing him, she let her fingernails click over his fly until she'd found the zipper, then slowly pulled it down, never looking away from his eyes. He had to admit, it was a pretty good move. Then she reached eagerly into his pants, over the kinky hair of his groin and onto the thick shaft of his manhood. That ruined it a bit. Where Peter was long and slender, Logan had the purple-knobbed slab of a male porn star, and it made Peter feel a little bit like he was wearing a strap-on.

"Damn, bitch, that's what I call a cock!" She grabbed him by the base and fished him out of his pants, giving it a little impressed grunt when he sprang free and continued to grow, then running her hand up and down the thickening shaft.

Peter croaked a bit. He grabbed for her, his callused fingers sinking into the meat of her shoulders, but just barely managed to pry his hands back off her. "Listen, Ali, you seem nice and all, but I'm kinda really worried what Wolverine's getting up to in my body, so I'm not really in the best place to be a sensitive, giving lover—"

"Eh, he's probably just getting drunk now that he doesn't have a healing factor to turn every beer into a wine cooler."

"But I'm not twenty-one! I can't buy beer!"

"Oh. Well then. God only knows." Smiling crookedly, Ali used her other hand to push up the hem of Peter's shirt until he took the hint and pulled it the rest of the way off. Then she was scraping her unoccupied fingers through the coils of hair on his chest and belly. A soft white hand still pumping his cock like a watergun, she leaned down to lick up his sweaty chest, inhaling his musky scent right through her mouth. "Jesus. S'like getting laid at Burning Man. With a gay dude. No offense."

Peter was gaping in pleasure and control, his hands weaving drunkenly in mid-air, fisted into tight little cords. One dropped lower and lower, like his arm was getting tired. The fist unclenched. He ran his fingers through Ali's hair—even that seemed rough-hewn—and onto her face, where her piercings burned cold against his fingertip. She took exaggeratedly to his prompting, swaying with his hand to move downward, kiss his navel, then lap at the mane of dark pubic hair that surrounded his bulging root. He felt her blow hot air right onto his scrotum; his other hand opened and pinched the barbell piercing in her ear.

Now he guided her directly to his cock, and she sluiced her tongue over the wrinkly skin of his sack, up the root of his vein-etched cock, and finally to the mushroom-shaped head, where she lapped up a pearl of precum that oozed from his tip. Then she pulled back. His hands were frozen on her head, but she exerted more and more of an effort until he gave in and let her loose, his hands banging hard on the floor as he regained control.

"Fuck! Fucking shit!"

"Whew, the F-bomb," Ali purred. "Thought you only cursed in Yiddish. Hey, are you a Jew? I only ask because I gotta know if it's weird, having an uncircumcised wang. Is it? Trying sea cucumber?"

"I'm not Jewish!" Peter panted. "I'm just a really big nerd!"

"Oh, okay. Well, this concludes the oral portion of the exam." Ali stood, buck-naked and self-conscious as a stripper. "I gotta get a condom before we go any further. Imagine Wolverine having kids! Probably be born with enough daddy issues to be a hooker…"

Ali walked back to her clothes to fish for a condom in the tattered garments she called a uniform. Or she would've, if she hadn't slipped on her own sock and landed facedown, banging her knee on the floor and splaying her legs. Exposing the swollen lips of her cunt, her shimmering wet entryway. How ready she was.

"Motherfucker!" Ali cried, holding her knee. "Who the fuck builds floors that can't make one that isn't the slipperiest fucking shit in the universe? Fuckin' Slip-N-Slides aren't this slippery! Jesus! I should fucking sue—"

The rest was lost to the ages. Peter literally pounced, mounting her from behind and stuffing her full of himself in one instinctive thrust.

***

"HOLY SHIT!!" Ali cried out, sorting pain from pleasure for long seconds as Peter settled into her. She was more than wet enough, and her tonguing earlier had lubricated his cock, but Christ, did he have a hammer on him! "PEAS AND FUCKING RICE!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Peter even breathed apologetically, backing what felt like a yard of cock out of Ali's shaking body, exposing the gorge he'd temporarily reamed into Ali's small snatch.

"Put it back!" Ali ordered shrilly. Her lips lifted up in search of him, already feeling empty, unsatisfied, hungry. "Get back in me, you fucking homo, you owe my ass at least as good a fuck as you gave the redhead! Shit, man, if you're gonna take it, take all of it!"

"Sorry," Peter apologized again, somewhat sarcastically, as he grabbed her by the hips and guided himself back inside. He had to admit, it flattered him a bit to hear Ali beg, even if it was in her own demented fashion. Probably just Logan's hormones. It wasn't like he was the kind of guy who got off on that sort of thing. He was pretty much on drugs at the moment, and it wasn't even his choice. More like a contact high. So as long as he was tripping, might as well enjoy it.

Might as well Ali enjoyed it.

"God, you're big—fucking huge!"

"It's a proportional thing," he gritted out, eyes closed in the relief of feeling her cunt closed around him. "My other body's longer."

"You sound like a bumper sticker," Ali breathed wearily.

Her body had spun through all the possible reactions it could have to being so deeply penetrated, and now she actually felt drowsy with pleasure because Peter wasn't screwing her. Not yet. He was just resting on his knees and hands over her while her shock wore off and her cunt expanded to accommodate his cock. She moved her hips experimentally and felt him so far inside her, it was a wonder she wasn't choking on him.

"Why do we call you Wolverine? You should be named Horse. Donkey."

"Barnacle."

"Huh?"

"They have the largest penis size relative to their body mass…"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" The blur of tattoos and wings that made up Ali's hands flew to his hairy back, pulling at him to sink his cock into her just a little more. Peter gave in, letting her tug him into position so she had it all, every inch he could give her, even his heavy balls pressed up tight against her. "That's right, motherfucker," she sighed. "Fill me fucking full…"

Peter's eyes were closed, but the feel of her tight cunt enfolding him no longer brought satisfaction. He didn't want to fuck her. He, his body, wanted to dominate her, own her. And he couldn't resist anymore, not when she was asking for it.

Ali had no time to think; his cock was sucked out of her and then plunged back in, mixing pain and pleasure once more in her sex.

"Yes! Ohhh… yes!" she cried, the savage punching of his cock finally seeming to break through. She felt an explosive release inside her, going off with such force it knocked the wind out of her, left her gasping for air and consciousness. "Just like that, bitchfucker! Hit me! Rip me up!"

She reached out, hands stretching to her discarded clothes, finding her top and bringing the fabric to her to bite down on. Normally, she'd scream just as loud as she wanted, but not when the X-geeks might come running and, God forbid, make them stop…

Damn, you really do want it, Peter though. He was flabbergasted by the punishment she was both taking and asking for—Mary Jane, Black Cat, Sue, none of them had been like this. Only Jean had even hinted at it, and he'd convinced himself it was a put-on, a show for the online audience. But now, with Ali, he could only see her pleasure as a challenge. She wanted more, he'd give it to her.

"You want it hard?" he groaned, pulling her legs even further apart and gripping each of her thighs in a meaty hand. "Then take it fucking hard!" He drove into her with all his mutant strength, a look of almost rage passing over his face. "Take it all, you bitch! Take my cock right up to your throat!"

Another orgasm, like a kick in the ribs, flattened Ali. She felt her sex squeezing shut on his cock, sucking on him like a vacuuming throat, virtually trapping him inside her. "Yes!" he yelled, her cunt lapping his cum right out of his shaft.

He pounded his full weight into her hole, giving her another shot of ejaculation with each thrust, until her cunt had become a buttery mess of his cum and hers, stretched open and filled in. He flung himself down onto her bare back and bit down on her shoulder, teeth grinding at her flesh until he tasted warm blood.

Ali screamed the shirt out of her mouth, bucking with his roaring, plowing cock. Each stab it gave her sent another ripple of pleasure through her body, like her orgasm was just going on and on, not stopping until the ecstasy became agony.

He pulled out of her, finished for now, her open cunt slopping out cum like the blood trickling from the bite mark on her back. His cock was still threateningly half-hard, and it only took one look at it for Ali to roll onto her back and part her sore legs.

"That all you got, bitch?"