An Abrupt End To The Orgy

-Written with Cross C-

Mark was having the time of his life. His adventure in Utopia had never gotten this… loud. This raw. The girls were still on their way to being swayed, but he wouldn’t have been able to have a full blown orgy in the middle of a family home… probably, that place was pretty wild.

But not as wild as Markanda.

This universe's Mark was clearly living the good life. A city who worshiped him. A land of hot African lovers to call his own. And Mark was only scratching the surface of what he’d accomplished, there was talks of many heroes falling to this King. Mark was kinda jealous, but also very hopeful his multiversal copy would want a familiar face to help him out. With Mark’s powers combined they could take over so much! They could bang so many sexy heroines with their two massive white cocks!

Though maybe the deal wasn’t as sweet for King Mark. The only one he had to offer was America… and a multiverse of potential new slaves. Why enslave one Wakanda, when he could get fifty? The potential was infinite as was his lust. He slammed the tight fertile slit again and again, imagining all his dreams were coming true with each thrust.

America cooed and stroked Judetia's hair as the cute black girl tongued and nuzzles her labia with her lips, round nose nudging around her clit just delightfully. Occasionally she looked over to watch Mark rock another Wakandan with the biggest white cock-

Bamf!

"Pardon me, fraulein."

Blue arms wrapped around America from behind, clenching tightly about her own arms and torso.

Momentarily shocked, it took her a second to respond but before she could marshal her superior super strength-

Bamf!

Suddenly she was gone.

Mark was alone with his legion of naked followers.

“...America?” He asked to the open air, realizing quickly he was in enemy territory and his only escape plan disappeared. “AMERICA?!”

A blue star he’d become intimately familiar with appeared in front of him, air rushing through it as his lesbian **** quickly floated through. “Mark! We need to leave, right now!” She ordered with arm stretched out. But as soon as they came close, another purple puff of brimstone interrupted them and America with her star disappeared again.

Mark scoured the environment. Another star appeared way above him, before it was gone. Then one on the roof they’d landed on, Mark hearing her go “FUCKING ELF!” then nothing. Several more stars appeared, often followed by a bamf and silence. Until silence was all that remained. No new stars at all…

“AMERICA!?” He called out again. Worried about his one toy he still had left in this multiverse, even when he was surrounded by eager pussy. Eager, sopping wet, tight pussy. His mind stared at the slits, the endless possibility of cunts to fuck, the breeding frenzies he deserved as King. Thoughts of America Chavez, Utopia, the multiverse, home… drifted away. Instead he grabbed the closest girl’s ass he could, a lovely little cousin to Judetia, and mauled it absentmindedly. Feeling the tense meat and churning it in his hands as if it was the only thing in the universe that mattered.

As if he was in a trance.

All around him, the people of Markanda were in a similar state. Suddenly nothing else mattered but a single image of Mark they held in their heads. They stroked their pussies and pumped their cocks. A single word ‘Cum’ on their minds. No thought of who they were, their family around them, or even who the man they were thinking of was. Cum. Cum. Cum. Cum. Was all that remained.

“Whoever he is, he’s pathetically defended against psychic attacks.”

It was a cultured voice, tinged with distaste. Emma Frost stood in the covered foyer, one hand on her hip as she surveyed the lewdly humping and moaning mass of people in the courtyard.

Her silky blonde hair framed an oval face that communicated its flawless beauty even through the high-tech silver mask that covered it from nose to chin, her straight locks ending perfectly in line with the mask along her jawline.

The vast outward sweep of her overly generous breasts was on display, the white leather corset clinging to them even as it only managed to cover the bottom fourth of each great globe, leaving her creamy pink nipples perfectly exposed. Her waist was trim, and the slight definition of abdominal muscles peeked out beneath the hem of the corset. Her hips exploded outward, the sides of her white thong climbing them. Lacey stockings and garters adorned her long luscious legs. A white cape with a mink fur mantle wrapped her shoulders.

"Esme, dear, please make sure all the men are facing the other way. I’d hate for their semen to get anywhere near me.” she told her companion as she strode calmly into the crowd.

“Yes, mistress.” replied the more slender masked blonde who was dressed quite similarly, the main difference being her mostly exposed C-cups to Emma's H's and an absence of a matching cape.

“Good.” She said while bending down to her copied king, “Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with in the mindscape.”

With a simple touch of her gloved hand to Mark’s forehead, Emma Frost was transported instantly to the world inside this traveler’s mind.

It was a garish palace. Red carpets and copious gold filigree. Even just moving one of her heels echoed wide in the mostly empty hall, only slightly covered by the baseline ‘music’.

Moans filled the expansive chamber, flesh writhed all around her. Beautiful women were strewn about, making love to each other or pleasuring themselves as they looked on towards the center of the room. They were of all ethnicities, even some strange ones she didn't recognize, though black and brown predominated. The density of women increased as one moved towards that center where the doppelganger was thrusting away within a veritable pile of them, all doing their best to touch and worship any part of him they could reach.

“How strange that I can visit an exact copy of my King’s mind… and feel nothing.”

Emma flicked her hand and an invisible wave erupted outward, a rush of pops traveled with it followed by a clatter of thumps as each woman was abruptly transformed into a fleshlight. There was no reaction from the imaginary constructs as they collectively clattered to the floor. Though this Mark was no telepath, unable to sense her presence unless she willed it, he could certainly see the effect she was having on his Mindscape.

“Another pretty shithead trying to take my toys…” He hissed, the power he had over his mindscape letting him grow before her, “All it takes is one sniff, one taste, and you’ll be mine!”

The monstrous hulk version of Mark lunged forwards, but Emma didn’t even blink. Simply stating, “Sniffs and tastes? You truly are inferior to the touch of our true King.”

He had just a bare instant to twig that something was wrong before the wave passed through him as well and he popped like a soap bubble before there was the sound of a particularly meaty thunk from the ground.

A bored expression on her perfect porcelain face, Emma strode forward, her heels clacking. An endless parade of plastic sextoys rolled out of her path as she approached what was once Mark.

For you see, Mark was now a fat girthy dildo.

Emma looked at the pathetic tool. It lay on its side. Bright purple and fat. A pair of gelatinous testicles were attached to the base.

She bent over and picked it up in one white gloved hand. She smirked as the fairly hefty dildo drooped and dangled like a noodle. While it was the full size of her master's magnificent erection, this mere copy was as flaccid as could be.

“Now, stay quiet like a good little dildo while we figure out who you really are.” Emma told the mostly brain dead sex toy as she returned to the real world. She stood up cleanly, noting that the boy didn’t even look at her impressive hips and bust like her King always would. With a tut on her lips and a disappointed look, she pointed towards the entrance of the estate. “March.”

Mark said nothing. Mark felt nothing. Mark was nothing. He simply did as told, standing up and marching towards where she was pointing. Not even able to push the door when he reached it, simply bumping against the wood. She rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist to open the latch and let the plodding fool walk.

Before she followed, Emma turned her attention to the pile of family bodies all still stroking themselves silly. She could feel their energy swirl around her as their minds screamed in pleasure again and again. The non-mutant cattle that her King loved so much. She never saw the appeal, especially those men and their urges to be cuckolded.

The Semen Queen (formerly White Queen before her King decided on a far better moniker) placed her hand to her forehead to speak. “You will all orgasm hard once I leave this room and forget the last hour of your lives. Instead you will think that you simply practiced an orgy for your King. Any pregnancies must be reported immediately to the sheriff, no exceptions.” A simple groan choir seemed to indicate she’d been heard as she strutted off in the direction of the dildo boy who had barely made it out the courtyard still.

As a young man who thought himself a dildo, Mark didn't react to much of what he saw but he could still see. A black aircraft made up of smooth graceful curves sat on the street before him, filling the space between building even as the pedestrians he'd seen from the roof knelt a fair distance back in both directions. Guards lined the path to its open hatch, all of them wearing very little. Metal faceless helmets, metal codpieces, red capes, utility belts, and sidearms strapped to otherwise bare legs.

All of them were built like bodybuilders, beefy muscles gleaming in the sun. All were dark skinned, save one. If he still had access to his higher thought processes, Mark might have found this head guard familiar. His mask's colors of orange and green were out of place but the design was familiar, though it was decidedly odd looking without the rest of the patriotic uniform, the guard's extremely muscle-bound and shredded torso just as bare as the rest.

Holding a circular disc with a peculiar design. Green with a blocky stylized M that included a horizontal stripe, orangish red in color. Beneath it were almost Egyptian pictogram like figures that included two black panthers on the ends as well as a trio of flesh colored human female ones. All the figures appeared to be on their knees in supplication.

Mark would also potentially notice the superheroes currently sitting in the cargo bay of the vessel. The Stepford Cuckoos, Nightcrawler… and America Chavez. Currently wearing a strange mechanical collar and looking as brain dead as Mark.

"What did you do to him, ma'am?" asked the leading guard, watching the multiversal clone walk slowly up the ramp of the ship. With a wave of his hand, a couple other guards grabbed him and guided him to sit at one of the seats along the side. Clamping down the same metal collar that was on America’s neck.

"Nothing permanent. He just thinks he's a dildo for now. Not a thought in his head but what belongs in a barely sentient sextoy. Which is essentially what he was to begin with ironically."

"..." frowned the head guard, following Emma up the ramp to sit down at the ship’s controls. He could feel her wishes for him to not say what he was thinking, but ever the stubborn fool he asked anyway. "You don't think that is a mite… disrespectful, ma'am?"

Emma sighed in frustration, flicking a few switches to begin their takeoff. "That isn't the King, Captain Rogers. It is an interdimensional interloper deserving of zero loyalty. You'd best remember that as well as your place or I'll remove your ability to count."

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Markandan ship took off with its brand new cargo. Leaving the orgasming Uzunes, the interrupted market, and his only hope of a clean escape all behind him.

Being a dildo was a strange life.

Mark didn’t ask what was required of him. He simply existed. A serene and peaceful existence, all things considered. When things happened, they simply happened to him.

Like the shower he took. Perhaps, if he had the brain to run thoughts, Mark would enjoy the experience of four Markandan servants cleaning his body. Scrubbing him down with soap, rubbing their bodies against his, taking their loofahs and digging deep into every crevice they could find to clean him. It seemed the guard with a red visor who was watching him would occasionally bark at the women to say they were enjoying it too much, or rubbing their bodies against the false King’s penis too much. Mark wasn’t enjoying it too much. He felt nothing.

He didn’t feel anything when the delicate but thorough scrub changed into a full hose down from powerful water streams. If he had ears, perhaps the dildo could understand that this was due to Emma telling Scott that his powers came from smell and tastes, rather than touch. But then, if he had ears, they’d be feeling particularly unpleasant from the viscous stream of water blasting against his body, so perhaps it was for the best that he heard nothing.

If he had eyes, Mark would have seen multiple heroes examining him when he’d been dried off and transferred to a secret lab. Three gorgeous babes, all studying him and his naked body. Taking blood, semen, plasma, whatever they wanted. Should he wonder why they wanted a dildos blood? Not particularly. He was a dildo after all. He would simply wait for one of them to order him to pleasure them. To fuck them with his big hot co-

“Hmm, seems like he’s finally resisting his conditioning.” Emma said, putting her glove to her temple again. “As false as this King is, when he thinks with his penis there’s actual power there. Just like Mark.”

“Well, this pretender certainly has the same looks, thoughts, DNA, eye color, general build from when he first arrived, and even epic penile proportions-”

Emma suddenly snapped her fingers in Shuri’s face, “Watch your place, pet. Wouldn’t want you forgetting who your king truly is.”

The half naked scientist simply rolled her eyes. “Ikaka! Has your time kissing Mark’s feet ruined your eyesight?! I’m simply noting similarities of literal universal parallels yet you treat me like I’m already sucking his cock!” Shuri snapped her fingers back sassily, making Emma scoff at the insubordination.

“How did he even get here?” Wanda cut in, trying to keep the peace between the two women by nervously changing the subject.

Their glare at each other finally broke, Emma clicking her tongue in annoyance. “That must should be obvious, even without reading his mind. He only had one **** with him, America Chavez, the multiverse traveler. Probably not our universe’s though, if I had to guess.”

Shuri poked the air with multiple screens popping up. “King Mark placed the Young Avengers at 21st on his desire list and 49th on the threats list. Last known recording of our America Chavez was in San Francisco with a couple of Hawkeyes. No knowledge of our existence.”

“Fascinating,” said Wanda, examining this new Mark slightly closer. “He looks so much like Mark… yet, younger?”

“Right on the vibranium, little miss witch. Biggest difference between the Marks is their age and lack of muscular enhancements,” Shuri explained, going through her screen showing two men side by side with similar looking numbers coming from them. “And their mutant abilities… they should be the same. Like they’re definitely cut from the same white boy cloth, but this one has no connection formed through touch. Only through the myriad of other senses. Almost as if his power evolved after lacking the ability to make that connection like our Mark can.”

“I can sense a reason why…” Wanda added, lifting her hands to start making symbols with them, red particles floating from her and surrounding this brain dead King, “...it’s magic. Feels like the work of that particularly annoying Stephen Strange, though perhaps a bit haphazardly. The locks on this Mark’s powers can be easily broken. If that is what we want?”

The other two looked at each other, then to the dildo brained king in front of them. His drool starting to pool on his leg as he sat perfectly still.

“Mark will be back in an hour. He’s finally dealing with the other multiverse anomaly we spotted,” said Emma, snapping her fingers and making the clone stand up and follow her, “I will wake this one up in the greeting room and see what he does in that hour. When Mark returns, we’ll see what he wants to do about this one himself.”