Casual Conversation and Emergency Buttjobs

"So," Ethan asked the two beauties flanking him as they walked through the halls of the X-Mansion, "what is there to do for fun around here?"

"If you mean besides the pair of us," Bets- Psylocke - when she was dressed in her uniform leotard, anyway - replied, "then there's plenty of women with big, juicy asses for you to fuck. Plenty of girls closer to your own age too, believe it or not."

Feeling very proud that he only nearly tripped over his own feet at the Brit's casual suggestion that he start putting together some sort of Meta-Harem without any prompting on his part, Ethan thought about teasing that he was thinking of rather more mundane kinds of fun. After a moment, though, he dismissed the idea. After all, he thought to himself with a strange tingling thrill, if she's so eager to get me some more ass, then it'd be rude to refuse. He grabbed Psylocke's wrist and guided her hand to his crotch, letting her squeeze and stroke his bulge for a moment before doing the same to Jean. The pair continued their molestation for a few seconds, before entwining their fingers and then pulling away.

"Not exactly what I was going for," Ethan said after a momentary show of mulling her words over, "but if you're offering, who do you suggest? Don't worry about any particular ranking."

"Well," Jean began, the two psychics synchronising their thoughts on the matter, "for a start, there's Emma Frost - that's Miss Frost to you, by the way. She's one of the teachers here, and a... 'Grade-A PAWG', to use one of the terms floating around your surface thoughts. She also used to dance for a semi-secret society called the Hellfire Club, before she started running it, so she's not to be taken lightly even if she's an absolute freak in bed." An image was helpfully projected into Ethan's mind of a woman wearing what could only be described as half an outfit - white knee boots with barely-practical heels, white leather pants so thin and tight they looked more like latex and a white corset, all 'covered' by a fur-trimmed whit cloak. It highlighted why Jean had picked the words she had, too. Those were some dangerous curves.

"Let me guess," Ethan drawled, "her codename's something like 'White Queen'?"

"I'm not going to insult you by asking how you guessed the first half of that," Psylocke replied, "but the second?"

"Highest title I could think of that flowed properly," he replied. "So that's Exhibit A of the 'why we need more Mutants' argument; any others?"

"Tons," Psylocke replied as Jean stifled a giggle, "and that's not just a description of the junk in their trunks." The mental image of Emma Frost began to flicker and settle on new women, switching in time with Psylocke's speech. "If you fancy some more fun with blondes or you've got a twin fetish, I've got good news for you - and if you fancy some more fun with blondes and you've got a twin fetish, then I've got really good news for you." A younger, less voluptuous and far more sensibly dressed version of Emma appeared, then split into three copies. "If your tastes tend towards dark meat, then I recommend you start with Miss Munroe, alias Storm. If you can surprise her with that monster between your legs, then she might be flattered enough not to fry you with a lightning bolt - she's still worshiped as a goddess in some parts of Africa, you see."

"I can see why," Ethan murmured, admiring the black woman in his mind's eye as she was borne aloft by a hurricane wind - thankfully, it seemed as if even the team's combat gear was made to give him an eyeful of their most potent assets. More knowledge was planted in his mind, psychic facsimiles showing off their powers and bodies for his perusal. A dark-eyed brunette gave him a flirtatious wink before stepping through her clothing to show off her toned body. A green-eyed, green-haired woman posed on a cloud of floating ball bearings, running her hands over her naked breasts. A Native American woman flickered between various forms of herself, all with obscenely exaggerated proportions. A pale blonde took on progressively more curvaceous forms, stepping out of the previous one each time like they were a bodysuit. A brunette with an exotic white streak in her hair gave a playful twirl-

THROB

"Guh-!" Ethan's legs buckled and his vision went wobbly as a pulse like none he'd ever felt before shot from his brain down to his crotch. Dizzy and dazed by the shock of it, he didn't resist as Jean and Betsy bodily picked him up between them and bundled him into an empty classroom. There was an unbearable pressure around his cock and balls, pain so intense that it was blinding him. He wracked his addled brain, trying to think of a cause, but the only thing he got was the brown-and-white-haired woman in the straining yellow and green string bikini, spinning in pla-

THROB

"FUCK!" Ethan screamed as the pressure on his crotch increased like a vicious dominatrix had stamped on it. Blearily, he looked down and gaped at the sight of his-

-clothes breaking apart under the strain of containing his elephantine erection, seams splitting and cloth tearing as his schlong burst out of his pants and boxers. It stood up from his lap like it was more architecture than flesh, an indestructible pillar of hole-wrecking meat. Jean and Betsy's eyes dulled, and for a moment he feared that he'd performed the same dick-based mental dulling that had afflicted so many weaker-willed women, but the tell-tale psychic flux between the pair made it clear that the two slutty wives were merely engaged in a furious exchange of thoughts.

"It's..." Jean sucked in a calming breath - somewhat compromised by the pheromones wafting off of Ethan - and composed herself. "It's even bigger than before," she murmured, swallowing heavily. "Why is it so much bigger?"

"I can't believe it," Betsy groaned, "he's so fucking hard that he grew." She bit her lower lip and squirmed, reaching for the nanite-thin 'zipper' that ran down the front of her leotard from neck to crotch. "I- I need to know how. I need to know why."

"You know why," Jean whimpered, frantically unbuttoning her blouse. "It's because of Rogue. What were you thinking, letting him see her?"

THROB

Ethan threw his head back and groaned as his cock twitched and flung a pencil-thick rope of precum into the air, where it splattered down onto Jean's now-bare breasts. God, it wasn't even her real name and it did that to him. Just closing his eyes, he could see her more vividly than ever, shaking and shimmying in that tiny collection of floss that dared to call itself a bikini. Seeing those big, bouncy tits, the faint outline of her tight abs, those babymaker hips, that ASS-

THROB

Betsy leaned her head back and gasped happily as she caught the next gout of precum full in the face. "I'm sorry," she sighed, splitting the front of her leotard to expose the inner halves of her spectacular breasts and very nearly uncover her pussy, "but I just had to - she's such a fine piece of ASS..."

THROB

THROB

"He's going wild just from hearing about her," Jean said in a tone normally reserved for doctors performing triage, "we need to relieve the pressure." With that, she grabbed a suspiciously-dimensioned bottle of body oil and motioned for Betsy to slip out of her leotard. Taking a firm, spread-legged stance and holding the bottle firmly in both hands at crotch height, she squeezed with all her might and began shaking the bottle like she was using a fleshlight. Oil sprayed across the room in a thick stream, splattering all over Betsy's body as she turned back and forth to catch it on as much of her skin as possible. By the time it was spent, Jean had tossed it aside and was making her backside bounce with the effort she was putting into tugging her tight pants down past her ass. As she finally wrenched them down in a motion that made her cheeks clap and pulled herself out of them, Betsy seized her own oil bottle and hosed her wife down just like she had been.

Ethan managed to pull his thoughts away from Rogue for long enough to admire the way the two co-stars ran their hands over each other's bodies, always taking care to spread the oil as far and evenly as they could with every swipe while covering up the smallest possible area of bare skin at any given moment - letting these two take part in his studio's leap from movies of him annihilating regular women to ones of him fucking Mutant ladies as something approaching equals was the best decision of his career. Blushing furiously and almost tripping over themselves in their eagerness to start, they both turned so that their asses were facing each other with his cock between them. Then, with a bending of their knees and an arching of their backs, they thrust out their big, bouncy bubble butts and smothered his mighty bitch-breaker under an avalanche of ass.

"We need to, nnf, wring out all of that," Jean cut herself off with a barely-stifled moan of ecstasy, "grotesquely thick baby-batter, or we'll never get it to go down." She adjusted her pace to one just behind her wife's, not giving any part of Ethan's cock a moment's respite from their joint assjob.

"If we even can," Betsy wasn't nearly so restrained, her vowels dragging out into animalistic noises of pleasure, "A cock this monstrous might be able to stay hard forever." She clenched her glutes for emphasis, drawing a pleased shudder from both her wife and her patient.

"We need to keep trying, Doctor Braddock," Jean reached up and adjusted the nurse's cap that sat perched atop her head in an attempt to maintain some shred of dignity - a difficult feat, given the white fishnet stockings and platform stilettos that made up the bulk of her 'uniform'.

"You're right, Doctor Gray," Betsy replied, "we can't lose another patient to that gorgeous ASS." Her own hands were less interested in the state of her costume and more interested in tugging on her extra-prominent nipples, barely covered (and not even slightly concealed) by the red crosses of shiny electrical tape stuck over them.

Ethan leaned back in the hospital bed they'd bought for this very scene and luxuriated in the sensation of two such powerful asses devoted entirely to the pleasure of his cock.

"He needs to cum for us, not some lovely Southern Belle." Jean's ass began to ripple like it was suffering a light-speed spanking as she channeled her psychic abilities through it.

"Yes, he should cum for us - and our fat arses!" Betsy's British accent grew coarser as she talked, her ass rippling just like Jean's was.

"Cum for us, Ethan." schlup-plap-clap

"Cum for us, Master." clap-schlup-pap

"Cum for us, Daddy!"

At the joint demand, and with his film crew busy fisting their cocks or slamming three fingers knuckle-deep into their pussies, Ethan allowed himself to relax and let their skilled ministrations coax a small orgasm out of him. As his cum blasted almost to the ceiling and rained down on the two lubed-up booties still squeezing and sliding around his cock, Ethan looked down and saw his-

-bulge running down the leg of his pants, a dark stain growing where it ended just past the knee. His balls felt like overfull water balloons and his head was still a little faint from the sudden rush of blood to his shaft. "I'm sorry, Ethan," Jean said, as Betsy blinked like she was coming out of a trance, "I had to remove Rogue's image from your mind to stop you from tearing your clothes. And I'm sorry to say it, but..."

"...you can't fuck her," Psylocke finished firmly. Over Ethan's protests, she continued. "I'm sorry, but it's for your own good - her Mutant ability lets her drain and absorb the powers of others through skin contact, and we have no idea what that would do to you or her if the two of you were to touch."

Shit, thought Ethan glumly, a girl so hot they had to make me forget her just so I wouldn't jizz myself, and we can't even touch. But for all that his head, and his companions, cited the danger of contact with this 'Rogue', the steady pulse in his cock that had arrived with the knowledge of her existence made him a little curious about what the outcome could really be...

AN: For those who are wondering what's up with Ethan's reaction, this is 90s Rogue - bearer of perhaps the most memetically gorgeous (female, at least) arse of all time. Having the image be jointly provided by two ultra-powerful, ultra-horny bisexual telepaths (even though neither would admit to causing such trouble even if they knew the truth), accompanied by all the lingering lust for her that hangs over the X-Mansion, certainly didn't do his endurance any favours .