Doctor Doom Anonymously Sends A Video of Sue Fucking Moonstone

On the roof of the Baxter Building, a small sphere of light burst into existence. A black cube, glassy, exactly three centimeters on a side, appeared. The light vanished. The cube remained. Down in Reed Richard's laboratory, an alarm sounded. The teleport had been detected. As Doctor Doom had planned.

Within moments, Reed Richards was on the roof, analyzing the unknown object. Doom did not bother to monitor the situation. A random link to a video file, or hacking the Fantastic Four's network to deposit such a file, would raise alarms of a different sort. Richards would rather delete the file than open it. Mailing a thumb drive or DVD, or arranging for one to be deposited where he would find it, would likewise arouse suspicion without guaranteeing that the contents were delivered.

This, however, was different. A carefully-crafted puzzle that would engage Richards intellectually. As it would Doom himself.

For the next 16 hours, Reed Richards attacked the mystery of the cube. His scanners determined that the energy signature on the teleportation was Kree, but with modifications that suggested Skrull energy sources and a Rigellian encryption scheme. The cube, it became clear, was a data cache, an encrypted message contained within a holographic matrix.

Sue Storm kissed Reed on the cheek as he worked. He idly noted she smelled of an unfamiliar perfume.

"Have a nice session with Dr. Stone?" he said, realizing what it must be.

"Very nice," Sue said. "Kids are in bed, and I'm bushed. Don't stay up too late."

"Of course not, darling. Good night. Love you."

Reed said it automatically. As he often did. Without thought to the words. Without looking at his wife as she left.

The breakthrough came around midnight. The black cube was now in the center of a field emitter. He carefully tuned a laser to the precise frequency necessary to trigger the holographic playback, gradually increased the power, and...

The image emerged above the top of the cube. Three meters by three meters square. The image quality was magnificent, high definition, with an impressive depth of field.

It showed a naked Sue Storm and another blonde woman, this one in glasses and wearing black lacy lingerie, pelvises locked together. The Invisible Woman seemed to be straddling the other woman's leg, as the woman with glasses braced herself across a desk. Her face a mask of ecstasy as his wife rubbed her pussy against hers.

The recording contained no sound; Reed had not yet deciphered the audio track. But he saw the faint impressions on the other woman's skin, marks of an invisible gag, of bonds that held her arms together in front of her. Sue's expression twisted into a mask of exultant triumph as she drove her hips forward. He saw that flush face that he had known so well, and remembered immediately her few moments of erotic exhilaration. Private expressions he thought that no one else knew.

Reed Richards collapsed into his chair as the recording continued. He had estimated it to contain 100 minutes of footage. And he stayed up, well past the midnight hour into the wee morning, watching it over...and over...