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At the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning...

It was still bright and early on this warm summer's day, yet in Emma Frost's office the temperature seemed to drop degree after degree. As if the White Queen's stern aura alone was enough to breathe a soft chilling hue into the air around her. Despite wearing what could only be described as a white corset and a large flowing cape, she only came off as all the more imposing, towering over those who dared stand before her. Across from her, Jubilee stood still in front of the large ornate desk, her signature shades held awkwardly in her palm as she chewed idly on her wad of bubble gum and stared at the floor. Emma's voice was cold, precise, and cutting; she spoke with a level of disappointment and authority that few could muster. "I know you're better than this, Jubilation. That prank was beneath you. You know it. The younger students look up to you, and I will not have you—"

The glitching wave of chaos didn't wait for her to finish. As if knowing who one of the biggest threats in the institute was, or simply because of her position relative to the origin of the unseen ripple, Emma was hit from behind. Her words quickly became garbled into absolute nonsense. "—KHH—Get the fuck—right—swear—HAT—" Her fat blue-painted lips pursed and clenched together as if trying to stop the gibberish, only forcing an abundance of pathetic drool to squeeze out between them.

Her entire body detonated into a completely unhinged parody of Gwen's motion. A girl whose movements she had no right to even acknowledge, yet her mind was flooded with a compelling, nonsensical pull that hit her body quickly and violently. The absurd hip twist and elbow snap launched her backward out of the chair with so much force that the expensive leather seat flipped completely over. She crashed into the massive desk hard enough to crack the polished wood. Priceless artifacts, ancient tomes bound in dragon hide, and a velvet tray of diamonds worth more than the entire skyline of New York went flying in every direction. Several of the diamonds shattered against the far wall. Her white ensemble simply could not contain the impact. The corset strings burst open with an audible rip as if forced apart rather than loosened, and her massive, heavy breasts exploded free, bouncing hard and audibly clapping together from their own meaty mass. Almost pulled forward by a force not her own, her face slammed directly into the soft, deep valley of her own cleavage with a wet, meaty sound. Her nose buried itself between them, breathing in the warm waft of her own booby musk.

Jubilee only had time to stare in pure shock, eyes wide. "Ms. Frost—?!"

Then the same catastrophic wave continued on, the ridiculous sequence seizing her next. "H-Huhw—Ms. Frost—Get the—" The force of the hip twist threw her sideways into a tall bookshelf. Ancient volumes and display cases full of rare crystals crashed to the floor. Elbow whipping wild. Both hands already tearing her jeans apart like wet paper until the denim hung in ruined, dangling strips around her knees. Her smaller breasts bounced free when her top rode up from the chaos. Her head bobbled violently while her face went slack and jerked; drool began stringing from the corner of her mouth. Her asshole clenched and released in rapid, helpless pulses, fully exposed. "—fuck off—right now—f—f—uck-or I—swear—God—I'll—"

Back behind the desk, almost immediately, fueled by the sound of her own student and trusted ally in a glitchy waft of distress, thick strings of drool began pouring from Emma's open mouth as she forced her head upward out of her own cleavage. She tried to speak logically, but her words were still a glitchy mess. Yet despite that, she felt aware in a way Jubilee wasn't. But why?

This is some kind of telepathic attack. But no, that's not possible. It wouldn't affect her if it was; her mental defenses aren't pierceable. With sheer will she fought to think clearly, even as words and poses without meaning looped and looped through her skull. She couldn't focus. She couldn't even stay fully aware. It was as if her own mind was compromised, her own thoughts playing like a broken video, unthinking, only acting on loops that held no logic. And still she could acknowledge that...? Her mind had been etched into some temporal tirade, but her daughters hadn't. It was easier to focus by ceasing her resistance for a moment. She accepted the foolish crusade and dropped her face back down into her cleavage, mouth continuing to sputter nonsense as she felt her own hand rip and prod at her asshole. She'd be sure to erase this memory from Jubilee's mind. If the poor girl even knew what was happening. Odds are she didn't. This mental attack was looping their minds and repeating their actions. If she could focus she could see the vision of some boy, as if through the perspective of... a girl? It was like watching multiple videos spliced together, but it seemed to be the perspective of some girl getting railed from behind and... is that the boy? That mutant teen they had scheduled to recruit? But...

Oh hell. Hell. Hell. The teen must have some kind of time-looping mental ability. As if she'd let that walk into this school unchecked. Once she breaks this damn curse... he really made a mistake attempting something so widespread it even hit her. The brat must be powerful if he could affect her. But she wouldn't be the White Queen if she didn't have fail-safes. Her mind is almost always linked to that of her daughters; if harm befell them she'd know. It also worked as an anchor, keeping a portion of her consciousness tied to another body. To manipulate her mind, this temporal control would need to manipulate every mind she's linked with.

Because she could think this clearly despite her actions, her three daughters must have been far from whatever this curse was. It seemed to be spreading like a wave. If it hit Jubilee only after hitting her, its source was coming from behind her and moving outwards. Her daughters must be in their dorm room. It's... shit. It's not too far from her office.

Across from the desk, Jubilee was dragging her tits against the wall, her body smearing sweat on the pristine oak. With pure force of will, Emma began to pull her face out of her cleavage again. The drool seemed stuck in the same loop as her body, clinging to her lip and bosom, sliding down the inner curves of her tits and dripping onto the ruined desk. "Jubilee, your mind and body obey me." She projected the order, her psychic energy spiking out of her mind like diamond. She could force Jubilee into the same link as her, or directly control her into returning to normalcy. At the same time she began to reach her power out to link herself, her daughters, and Jubilee to someone else as far as she could. Anyone behind her must be compromised by now. She had to get someone far, someone fast, someone...

She instantly shot her head back into her tits, her ass beginning to twerk in the air without abandon. "—off me—right—off me—right—off me—right—off m-NNGH~! NO!" She scrambled up in a floppy, bobble-headed mess, head glitching to the side as if looking at someone entering her back door. Her daughters must not have all been as far from her office as she thought, or the wave was moving fast. One of them was down. Her mind had lost an anchor to reality. Still trying to force her body into a normal pose, both hands ripped what little remained of her panties into absolute white shreds. With a fight she raised one hand to her temple, allowing the other to continue prodding her asshole. She couldn't stop. She had to link with someone else... but the effort died out as her hand shot back down to her ass, spreading her cheeks and shoving her face back down onto the table, burying it in her tits. The last thing she saw before the darkness of her cleavage enveloped her was Jubilee smearing sweat and drool across the walls. "H-Huhw—J-J-Jubil—KKSSHH—Get-get-jjubil-j-jubila—"

Two of her daughters must have gone down. Her lips spouted so much gibberish she couldn't even understand what was happening anymore. She only had one more link to reality, the real reality, not this mental obscene time loop. Without even considering what it meant, she projected an order to all three of her daughters to run. RUN in the opposite direction. Whichever one of them was still sane would be able to obey. If it could buy her a few seconds she could link as many students together as possible, perhaps create a web of minds that could move at the speed of the wave. If she had Cerebro... hell! She had to trust that Jean or Betsy would be on that. Any telepath could shut this down if they got into Cerebro and linked all minds together at once, or even repeated a command that would counter the loop.

"Nghhhh~!" Emma moaned, her asshole clenched so tight the surrounding flesh went pale, then fluttered open again, winking obscenely in the open air with every glitch cycle. With every fiber of her being she made a reach for any mind to extend her will. "—Get the fuck—n-no!—f-uck-me—right-r-rrrugh! NO!—swear—HAT—I'll—H-Huhw—H-Huhw—Get-H-Huhw—G-Get-Get-the fuck—off-Get out of my hea-me—right—I'll—H-Huhw—GET-the fuck-the fuck-the fuck-th-ENOUGH!"

Her body exploded into diamond. The crystalline aura of her secondary mutation fused over her skin, freezing her current state of mind in place, projecting her own sense of normalcy and preserving free will from this time loop. The White Queen's diamond form, while negating her telepathic presence, also prevented any form of mental control whatsoever. And as expected, the foreign loop was expelled as quickly as it arrived. It was something she could have done from the start... but it also meant she couldn't protect Jubilee, or her girls, or any student.

Emma stood perfectly still in full diamond form, the crystalline lattice locked over every inch of her skin like a second, perfect armor. The office around her was a complete disaster. Jubilee continued thrashing against the far wall, jeans reduced to ruined strips around her knees, top shoved up under her armpits so her smaller breasts dragged wet, glistening streaks of sweat and drool across the once-pristine oak paneling. Every impact should have left bruises or broken skin. Instead, the wood simply accepted her and bounced her back into the next repetition. "H-Huhw—Ms. Frost—fuck off—right now—f-f-uck—or I swear—" she babbled, voice cracking and restarting without rhythm as her asshole clenched and fluttered in the open air.

Emma watched it all with cold diamond eyes, cataloging every detail. The effect had begun in the mind. Once the mind was caught, the temporal distortion spread outward into the body like ink through water, wrapping the flesh in its own private repeating bubble. Jubilee’s body moved with complete disregard for mass or momentum. Emma reached out with one glittering hand and pinned the girl firmly against the wall. Even in diamond form she had to exert real force; the loop fought back, trying to keep the motion going. The sight of her own naked, voluptuous crystalline body holding down her half-dressed student felt wrong on every level. "Absolutely not," she muttered, the words ringing clear inside the crystal. She released Jubilee, crossed the ruined office, and pulled a fresh white ensemble from the hidden wardrobe. Corset, cape, expensive underwear tailored directly to the natural curve of her ass, the whole immaculate set settled over the hard diamond curves of her breasts and hips. Dignity, at least externally, restored.

She turned toward the door, already mapping the fastest route to Cerebro, when she felt it. A faint twitch in her left hip. Then another. Her diamond fingers flexed once on their own, beginning to curl toward her own ass. "No..." she said aloud, as if talking to the still-glitching Jubilee, "I activated after the wave reached me. Diamond form is immune to fresh mental interference, but it does not purge what has already taken root. It has only slowed the process." The twitch came again, stronger. Her right breast, despite being as hard as diamond, gave a large, glitchy bounce against the inside of the new corset, springing high enough to collide against her face, giving her an impromptu moaterboat that defied logic. One she promptly ignored, as she didn't have the time to consider it. "Tsk~ It is ramping up... and not a clean wave. No, it's a.. a field of sorts. Expanding and intensifying." She exhaled hard, the diamond lattice over her chest expanding with the breath. "I will not make it to Cerebro in time. Not at this rate."

She stood in the center of the wrecked office while Jubilee kept slamming and moaning broken fragments against the wall, "Get the fuck—off me—right—HAT—I'll—" and made the only decision left and declared to herself, "I do not need Cerebro. I will be Cerebro. I am the White Queen and my mind is stronger than any machine Xavier ever built."

Emma drew another deep breath. The diamond over her heavy breasts swelled outward. Then she began to release the secondary mutation from the ground up. Crystal dissolved from her feet, her calves, the soft heavy curve of her ass, the deep hourglass of her waist. She paused when the diamond retreated to the underside of her breasts, letting the massive soft weight of them settle back into real flesh while her head and mind remained sealed. "Ready."

The White Queen dropped the last of the diamond from her face and skull.

The loop slammed into her mind the instant the crystal left. At the same moment she hurled her will outward in a single massive telepathic pulse. The pulse reached Armor just as the girl was pedaling through the front gates with two heavy grocery bags hanging from the handlebars. Hisako staggered, one foot slipping off the pedal.

''Armor. A wave is coming. You will not see it. RUN. Get close to as many clean minds as you can. I am creating a web.''

Armor’s eyes widened. "Ms. Frost? I can armor up and try to—"

''No. Your armor will not stop this. Move. Now.''

Hisako looked past the gates and saw the first students near the entrance detonate—clothes tearing, faces driving into their own chests, broken voices overlapping in a wet chorus of "H-Huhw—HAT—Get the fuck off me—right now—" and "—swear to God I'll—" She didn’t argue. Psionic plates slammed into place.

She kicked off the bike hard enough to send groceries spilling across the pavement and super-jumped toward the city, wind screaming past the plates. "I’m moving, I’m moving, just tell me when I'm good!"

Emma, already falling back into the loop, tried to lock the link while her body began to betray her. "Yes. Good girl. Once you reach more density, I will reroute the web and free the students; I only need you to—" She never got to finish that sentence.

The field hit Armor mid-leap.

Both of them dropped at the same instant.

Armor’s plates shattered like glass in mid-air. Her body convulsed, arms flailing as she tore at her own clothes, face driving hard into her chest, asshole clenching and fluttering while she fell, voice breaking into "H-Huhw—plates—Get the fuck—off me—right—I'll—"

In the office, Emma’s body finished what it had started. The White Queen collapsed fully into the loop with no awareness left. Her face mashed deep into her own heavy breasts, blue lipstick smearing in thick wet streaks across the soft skin as one hand stayed buried between her cheeks, two fingers pumping in and out of her asshole in a short idiotic rhythm while her hips gave the same tiny useless twitch over and over. Her mouth, half-smothered in cleavage, dripped drool and repeated the same broken fragment in a monotonous, wet loop. "Off me—right—off me—right—Get the fuck—off me—right—"

Jubilee kept thrashing against the wall a few feet away, adding her own overlapping nonsense to the room. "H-Huhw—Ms. Frost—fuck off—or I swear—HAT—"

The White Queen had fought with everything she had. The time loop took her anyway.

---

But when the wave hit, Emma wasn't the only psychic capable of using her mind to put an end to this madness.

Down the hall, Psylocke had been walking toward the training rooms at an easy, unhurried pace, the faint warm-yellow tone of her skin catching the overhead lights with every step. Her long purple hair swayed behind her. The classic blue-and-black uniform clung tightly to her athletic frame, the high-cut legs and stretchy fabric constantly riding up into the firm round shape of her ass; every few strides she reached back with one hand to dig the material out of her cheeks and tug it free again while her other hand idly tossed and caught a glowing psychic knife, the violet blade flickering in and out of existence with soft flashes. Another heavy crash and the sharp sound of tearing fabric echoed from the direction of Emma’s office. Psylocke’s brow furrowed. She caught the knife once more, still walking, and muttered under her breath in that familiar British clip, "What in the bloody hell is going on in ther—"

The wave reached and washed past the British ninja's thickly accented voice, cutting it off mid-sentence while her body glitched without warning.

"H-Huhw—kksshh—fuck-fuck-H-Huhw—f-Huhw—off-H-Huhw—off me-fuck-" Her body convulsed hard. The violent hip twist spun her straight into the large glass wall that overlooked the main courtyard of the school. Her face and upper body slammed against the transparent surface with a heavy, meaty thud that left the entire pane vibrating, smearing her purple lipstick against the glass as her cheeks squished and drool pooled across. The hand that had been in the middle of digging the uniform out of her cheeks was forced by the glitch to reverse direction completely, shoving the crotch of the suit deeper and deeper between them until the fabric was buried far up her ass in a tight, ruthless wedge that made her next involuntary clench, shoving her thumb deep and deep like a glitching loop up her deep asian ass. Only then did both hands physically glitch out to her frony, using her psychic blade to start ripping at the rest of the uniform in frantic, stuttering motions. The uniform made of material more expensive than multiple cars combined was made a joke, blue-and-black fabric tearing in long, jagged strips until it hung in ruined tatters around her thighs. Her firm ass pressed flush against the cold glass. Glitched harder and harder, mashing and mashing her big bubble butt across it. Every time her asshole clenched and fluttered, the soft outer lips smeared wetly across the surface, leaving thin glistening streaks that slowly trailed downward. Drool ran from her open mouth and down the glass in uneven lines. Her head bobbled loosely, cheek sliding against the pane as muffled, broken words vibrated through it, the elegant accent dragged into the same glitchy, idiotic register as a much younger girl’s while she kept smearing herself against the glass that looked out over the still-peaceful courtyard below. "—Get the fuck—off me—right now—swear to—I'll—fuck—fuck—off-"

She stayed there, pinned and thrashing against the glass, the ruined uniform shoved obscenely deep between her cheeks, psychic knife long forgotten on the floor, faded away while the wet sounds of her own body and the distant crashes from Emma’s office mixed together in the empty hallway.

Two psychics had fallen before they could even take an action to save their students, but there was one left. One who would do anything for her kids.

---

Jean stepped out of the shower, skin still flushed from the heat. The white towel was wrapped tight under her arms, forcing her heavy breasts up into a compressed, water-beaded shelf of cleavage. Tiny droplets ran down the outer curves and disappeared into the soft valley between them. Ororo waited on the edge of the bed, already dressed in her X-Men black and gold corset uniform, calm and patient as always.

Jean was speaking as she dried the ends of her wet red hair with a second towel. "I still can't get a clean read on that boy's mind. Every time I push, the probe just—"

The glitch seized her, passing by without care.

Her body convulsed so violently she spun and slammed shoulder-first into the bathroom doorway hard enough to crack the frame. The towel was ripped clean off her body and torn into useless white scraps by her own hands in the same motion. Her heavy breasts swung free with a meaty bounce and smashed directly into her own face as she flopped forward. Her nose buried itself deep in her soft cleavage. Thick strings of drool immediately began pouring from her open mouth, sliding down the inner curves of her tits and dripping onto the bathroom tiles. She tried to push herself back into something resembling Gwen's pose while both hands continued shredding what little remained of the towel. Her asshole clenched so tight the surrounding flesh went pale, then fluttered open in the open air. Her head nodded and lolled loosely on her neck like a broken doll. "H-Huhw—still can't—ssssht—Get the fuck—probe just—f-uck-me—right now—or I swear—"

"Jean!" Ororo was on her feet in an instant.

She crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed Jean's face with both hands, and forced a sharp mental shock through the contact the way Jean had taught her years ago. A clean, precise jolt.

Jean's body locked, then shuddered. The glitch stuttered. For a brief moment her green eyes cleared.

She sucked in a shaky breath, still drooling onto her own breasts, still half-bent over with her asshole exposed and twitching. In that same second she reached out through their bond and pressed a tight telepathic anchor into Ororo's mind, weaving it with threads of Storm's own power so it would hold. A final shield. A final gift so Ororo could keep fighting for their students.

"O-Ororo—listen. Some m-m-ental-feedback loop. You need a telepath and Cerebro. Now. The shield will buy you time. Protect them—"

The glitch slammed back into her harder than before. Her eyes went vacant again. Her body detonated back into the same absurd, floppy cycle, face planting deeper into her own tits, hands ripping at nothing, asshole clenching and fluttering, head bobbling.

Ororo, for a moment, was without words. Some form of mental attack had just prutilized her sister. Jean Gray, one of, if not the strongest, mind on the planet, rivaled only by Emma herself. Had just dropped. Not without resistance, but it took her faster than Ororo herself could understand. Yet she, one without much mental protection to speak of, stood fine? In that moment, she felt an anchor settle warm and firm behind her thoughts. Some sort of link or shield, something... Jean did something to protect her from this, realizing it was too late for herself. Bless her soul, she must've reacted quickly; the millisecond something felt wrong, her instinct was to protect her sister...

Ororo didn't waste the second Jean had bought her. Jean didn't just do that for her. She did it for the school, and she trusted the storm to pull through. She slapped the side of her communicator, linking into the communications sector, "Kitty, report. What are you seeing?"

Kitty Pryde's voice came through, tight and controlled, or trying to be, hiding her concern before her teacher. "Ms. Monroe, I-it's everywhere. Security feeds show it spreading room by room. Only the women. They're all... doing the same thing. Ripping their clothes, moving wrong, repeating broken words. The guys are just standing there like statues. Completely frozen. It hasn't touched them at all."

"Kitty, listen carefully. Jean is compromised. We need a telepath in Cerebro immediately. Emma or Psylocke." Ororo was already moving, pure teacher mode, pure headmistress mode, a pure Storm in the making… "Emma's mind is the strongest next to Jean's. Find them. Get the helmet on one of them before this reaches—" She felt it coming for her. The pressure at the edge of her thoughts. She didn't hesitate. She drove a sharp electrical shock through her own nervous system, hard enough to make her teeth click. The glitch recoiled for a moment, held back by Jean's anchor.

"Kitty, status on Emma and Psylocke. Now."

There was a rapid tapping of keys on the other end.

"Tabbing over... oh god. Ms. Monroe, you're not going to like this."

The feed switched.

Emma's office appeared first. The diamond-level telepath was already fully lost, body flopping through the same catastrophic cycle, face buried in her own spilled breasts, drool pouring, white clothing reduced to shredded rags, asshole clenching and releasing in the open air while broken fragments of speech spilled out of her.

Psylocke was worse. She was pressed against the glass wall outside Emma's office, uniform bottoms completely destroyed, firm ass smeared against the transparent surface. Every time her asshole clenched, the soft lips dragged wetly across the glass, leaving streaks. Her face was slack and drooling, cheek sliding against the pane as muffled, broken words vibrated through it.

Ororo's jaw tightened.

"I-Impossible. Her diamond form is immune to mental—" She stopped herself. This force had been too fast... like it hit Jean, it must've got her before she shifted.

Hells.

"New plan. Jean said Cerebro. We get the helmet on someone still clean. Psylocke is closest to the lower levels, but she's already gone... With Jean's protection, I will—"

It was too fast for Jean to protect herself. And too strong for her, while she isn't even in control anymore, to protect Ororo, as it was time for the glitch to hit the last leader of the X-Men. "I REFUSE!!!" Lightning exploded from the sky without a semblance of a warning, colliding directly with her mind, reigniting her willpower and, more importantly, the fading mental anchor Jean had given her during her last act of consciousness to protect their children. Across her dark skin she forced the violent shock through her own nervous system. Her back arched. Chest clad within her corset balloned absurdly. Her teeth ground together hard enough to hurt. She staggered but stayed upright, slamming a second, even stronger surge into herself.

"Kitty—! Listen to me...bring the helmet—H-H—f-fuck—" For a second her composure almost broke; for a mere moment she almost joined the rest of them, as her hips twitched and her ass cheeks clenched, just like theirs. Her asshole began to pop, her free hand ripped out one of the cups of her corset, her big black breast jiggling free, "fuck—off—right-I'll-F-F-H-Huhw-SHH—Get-N-NGH~NO!" Another massive bolt of lightning hammered into her from the ceiling, blowing out several light fixtures in the process but forcing the glitch back again.

"To Me my X-MEN! Bring Cerebro-G-ggngRRRGGAH!" The earth shook as Ororo had to physically punch her own stomach, forcing a giant bolt to surge from above. The shockwave surged through her own system, causing her to double over; her exposed breast flopped and mashed onto the carpeted floor; her other breast so squished and ballooned out, it was practically free as well. "-to my position—n-now—"

The pressure kept rising. She drove yet another shock through her body, bright arcs crackling over her arms and shoulders. Her voice came out raw and strained, every word forced through clenched teeth. "Do not—let this take—the students—get it here—" She began to rise for her X-Men, for her children. "I-I MUS—" She tried another bolt, though this one failed to hit her point blank; her knees trembled. Sweat mixed with the residual water on her skin. For one more second she held, eyes locked on nothing, pure will keeping the glitch at bay because if she fell there would be no one left to protect them. She would not let that happen. She—

Then it broke through.

Her body convulsed. The force of the hip twist threw her across the room into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Both hands ripped her corset free, followed by her panties, into complete shreds in frantic, electric-powered, uncontrolled motions. Her head bobbled loosely. Her face slackened and thick drool began to drip from her open mouth as her asshole clenched and fluttered in the open air, fully exposed. "H-Huhw—K—Get the fuck—off—right now—swear—I'll—"

On the other end of the line, Kitty's voice cracked. "Ms. Monroe?! Ms. Monroe!"

A new voice cut in. Lorna Dane, Polaris. "Kitty, I have Cerebro. I was already near the chamber. My magnetism is... delaying it somehow. I can still move. I'm putting the helmet on now—" There was a sharp metallic screech, then a choked gasp. "No—wait—it's not—H-Huhw—Get the fuck—off me—right—"

The line filled with the sound of tearing fabric and a body hitting the floor. Kitty was breathing too fast. "Okay. Okay. What would Ms. Monroe do..? Crap crap! I'm going." She told herself, rushing through the walls, not taking time; she dived directly down through the floor, falling directly into the room, only a few doors down in the wooden hall that led into the secret chamber. She ran forward through wall one, then two... "I'm going to Cerebro mysel—"

She never made it.

The glitch reached her three rooms later. Her body jerked mid-phase, solidifying at the wrong moment. She slammed into the wall hard enough to leave a crack. Both hands immediately began ripping her uniform bottom apart in violent, stuttering tears until the material hung in ruined pieces. Her head bobbled. Her face went slack. Drool started to drip as her asshole clenched and fluttered in the open air, fully visible. "H-Huhw—Ms. Monroe—Get the fuck—off—right now—swear—"

Only a few feet ahead of her, Polaris had already fallen.

Lorna had managed to stagger out of the Cerebro chamber before the glitch fully took her, the heavy helmet still clutched in one hand. It didn’t matter. The effect hit her in the corridor like a physical blow. Her green-haired body convulsed hard. The force of the hip twist slammed her shoulder into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. Both hands ripped her dark pants and underwear apart in frantic, uncontrolled tears until the ruined fabric hung in shredded strips around her thighs. Her top rode up from the chaos, letting her full, pale breasts bounce free and heavy. The next violent flop sent her face straight into them. Her nose buried itself in her own soft cleavage as thick drool immediately began pouring from her open mouth and running down the inner curves. Her head lolled and bobbled loosely on her neck. Between her spread cheeks, her asshole clenched so tightly the surrounding flesh went pale, then fluttered open again, winking obscenely with every broken cycle while she flopped through the same absurd motions.

Kitty, still half-phased and glitching only a few feet away, mirrored her. Smaller frame jerking, uniform bottoms completely destroyed, head nodding loosely, face slack and drooling, asshole clenching and releasing in the open air in perfect, helpless sync with Polaris. Neither of them was a telepath. Neither of them had Ororo’s experience or Jean’s anchor. They never stood a chance of holding it back.

And just like that, the last clean connection to the X-Mansion went silent.

---

The courtroom was silent except for the soft scratch of pens.

She-Hulk stood at the plaintiff's table in a tailored emerald blazer that strained hard across her broad green shoulders and the heavy, full curve of her chest. The fabric pulled tight with every breath, the buttons looking one deep inhale away from giving up. The matching skirt sat snug over her wide hips and powerful thighs, the material stretched smooth across the thick shape of her ass whenever she shifted her weight. Across from her, Titania lounged in her classic purple ensemble. The top was little more than a tight, plunging scrap of magenta that barely contained her massive breasts, the deep neckline showing a heavy valley of cleavage that flexed whenever she breathed. The matching bottoms clung to her thick, muscular thighs and the round, powerful curve of her ass like they’d been painted on. She looked exactly like she belonged on a battlefield, not in a courtroom, and she clearly knew it.

The judge, a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties with steel-gray hair pulled into a bun, watched from the bench. In the corner, the court stenographer’s fingers moved steadily over her machine.

Jennifer was in the middle of her argument. Clearing her throat, she continued. "Your Honor, exhibits C through F clearly establish a pattern of deliberate property destruction, and I ask that the court consider—" The glitch hit her like a truck. Causing her to instantly become the most dangerous thing on this side of New York. In moments, Jennifer was less Jennifer Walters, Attorney at Law, and more She-Hulk, smash and flash green asshole.

Her massive green body detonated into pure chaos. The hip twist and elbow snap launched her straight through the plaintiff's table, smashing it into kindling and sending papers, exhibits, and the water pitcher flying in every direction. Both arms flailed wildly as she tried and failed to recreate Gwen’s exact pose, one hand shooting downward in a huge, uncontrolled arc while the other tore at her own clothes. The emerald skirt was ripped into absolute confetti in seconds. Two oversized emerald breasts heaved upward hard from the force, green nipples fully erect, and her face planted directly into them with a heavy, wet sound. Thick drool immediately began pouring into her own deep cleavage as she scrambled on all fours, arms still pinwheeling in broken attempts to match the original motion. Her huge asshole clenched so tightly the surrounding green flesh went pale, then fluttered open again in full view of the destroyed courtroom. "H-Huhw—Your Honor—KKK—Get the fuck off me—pattern of—f-uck-me-now—swear—"

Titania threw her head back and laughed, loud and mean, still completely unaffected. "Oh my god, look at the big bad lawyer go! This is better than pay-per-view. I always knew that green bitch was one bad day away from—" The loop cut her off mid-sentence. The violent hip twist and elbow snap launched her straight through the defense table in an explosion of splintered wood. Both arms flailed in ridiculous, oversized attempts to copy the same pose, hands grabbing and ripping at her tight purple top and pants until the material was reduced to useless magenta scraps. Her heavy breasts bounced free, and her face slammed into them a second later, nose buried deep, drool pouring freely down her cleavage. She tried to push herself up into something resembling Gwen’s stance, but her limbs kept overshooting, arms flying out in wild, hilarious arcs while her thick asshole clenched and fluttered in the open air. The force of her thrashing cracked the floor tiles beneath her. "H-Huhw—big bad—Get the fuck—off me—right—swear—I'll—"

The court stenographer’s eyes went wide. Her fingers kept moving on pure instinct for one more second, trying to capture the sudden nonsense. "H-Huhw—Your Honor—Get the fuck—witness is—" She began to type out. Then it reached her. Her body jerked hard against the stenotype machine. Both arms flailed as she tore her blouse and skirt apart in frantic, uneven rips. She tried to keep her hands on the keys even as her torso twisted and her face went slack, drool running down her chin. Her asshole clenched and fluttered in the open air while one arm kept making broken little typing motions in the air.

"Order—what in God's name is—" The judge half-rose, gavel in hand, face pale. The same catastrophic sequence took her. The force threw her backward over the bench hard enough to crack the wooden paneling. Both arms windmilled as she ripped her black judicial robe and the skirt beneath it into shredded rags. Her face flopped forward into her own chest, thick drool already stringing down, while her limbs kept making failed, over-exaggerated attempts at the original pose. "H-Huhw—Order—Get the fuck off me—right now—or I swear—" Her asshole clenched and released in the open the entire time.

Every other woman in the courtroom convulsed in the same absurd, catastrophic way. Furniture broke. Clothes were reduced to rags. Arms flailed in broken, oversized copies of Gwen’s movements. Assholes pulsed. Faces stayed buried in their own chests, drooling freely. While the men remained perfectly frozen in their seats, untouched, still facing forward as the entire female half of the room destroyed itself in perfect, broken sync.

---

Rogue had been in the middle of a rooftop rescue downtown, one arm locked firmly around a terrified young woman as she drifted downward through the cool night air. Her yellow-and-green uniform hugged her curves, the armored yet fully latex skin-tight material fully stretched seamlessly smooth over her strong thighs and the round shape of her ass like a second layer of skin. The civilian, a brunette in a torn blouse and skirt, clung to her with both arms, eyes squeezed shut. "I gotcha, sugar, just keep your eyes closed and—"

The glitch ripped through her.

"H-Huhw—I gotcha—ssskr—Get the" Rogue’s body detonated into pure, uncontrolled chaos in mid-air. The violent hip twist spun her hard enough that she nearly lost her grip. Both arms flailed in wild, oversized arcs as she tried and failed to recreate Gwen’s exact pose, one hand shooting downward in a huge, clumsy grab while the other tore at her own clothes. Her clothes were designed to be indestructible; the body-forming latex was made to the exact fiber for that very reason; it was one of the strongest materials on earth. That said. Rogue was stronger. Her free hand ripped the yellow-and-green body suit open and shredded it downward until the ruined material hung in ragged strips around her thighs. "-fuck-f-f-off—me—of-me fuck-me-me-me—fuck-me—fuck-e—fuck-me-f—" The force of the motion made her chest heave hard; her breasts strained against the top of her uniform and then spilled partially free. Her face smashed straight into the soft cleavage with a heavy, muffled sound. Thick drool immediately began pouring from her open mouth and running down between her tits as she flopped and twisted in the air, still somehow keeping one arm locked around the civilian. Between her partially spread cheeks, her asshole clenched so tightly the surrounding flesh went pale, then fluttered open again, completely exposed to the night air while her limbs kept making broken, hilarious attempts at the original pose. "-fuck off me—keep your eyes—f-uck-me—right now—swear—"

The civilian only had time for one sharp scream before the glitch took her too. Still locked in Rogue’s arm, the young woman’s body convulsed hard. Both of her hands tore at her own skirt and blouse in frantic, uneven rips until the fabric hung in ruined pieces. Her head snapped forward and her face planted into her own smaller breasts as drool began to drip. Her legs kicked uselessly in the open air while her asshole clenched and fluttered in perfect, helpless sync with Rogue’s. The two of them dropped another several feet in a tangled, thrashing mess of torn clothes, bouncing tits, flailing limbs, and exposed, pulsing assholes, both locked in the same broken cycle as the ground rushed up to meet them.

---

In a quiet apartment in Brooklyn, Wanda Maximoff stood barefoot in the center of her living room. Soft red chaos energy curled and flickered between her fingers as she tried to stabilize a small, unstable hex floating above her palms. She was still in her classic scarlet leotard, the high-cut legs and tight crimson fabric stretched smooth over the full curve of her hips and the soft weight of her breasts, the little cape resting against her upper back.

"Just a little more and the resonance should—"

It was her turn. Too absorbed in her own studies, she failed to realize her magic over reality made her the last female on earth ot be affected. And could have easily prevented and undone everything by simply saying three words.

"H-Huhw—just a little—ssskr-" Unfortunately, she wasn't going to be saying anything sensible anymore. Her body erupted into violent, directionless motion. The sudden twist of her hips sent her stumbling sideways with so much force that she crashed through the low bookshelf along the wall, sending books and framed photos exploding outward. Both arms windmilled in huge, clumsy arcs as she tried and failed to match the original pose, one hand stabbing downward while the other grabbed at her own clothes. Her fingers hooked into the high-cut edges of the scarlet leotard and tore the stretchy material open in long, jagged rips, the fabric giving way until it hung in ruined red strips around her thighs. The momentum of the thrashing made her chest bounce hard; her breasts spilled free of the shredded top, and her face drove forward into the soft weight of them a moment later, mouth open, a thick string of drool already sliding down the inner curve. She kept trying to plant her feet and recreate the stance, but every attempt sent her limbs flying in the wrong direction, elbows and wrists overshooting in ridiculous, uncontrolled swings. Between her cheeks, her asshole clenched hard enough to dimple the surrounding skin, then opened again in a quick, helpless flutter, fully exposed as she trashed through the ruined living room. "—Get the fuck—resonance—f-uck-me—right—swear—"

---

Wanda was the last woman on earth, sure. But far above the planet, none of it reached. No one realized the radius held over time and minds had a limit.

Captain Marvel floated in the silent black of low orbit, the classic black leotard with the high gold hip cutouts stretched tight over her body. The red sash drifted weightlessly around her hips. She finished the last careful nudge on the damaged S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite, watching the thrusters fire in short, precise bursts until the trajectory cleaned up. Solar panels that had been skewed were now aligned. The worst of the spin was gone.

She tapped the side of her head, pinging the earpiece. "Marvel to S.H.I.E.L.D. Actual. Satellite is stable. Requesting confirmation to push it to the higher secondary orbit. Hill, you reading me?"

Maria Hill’s voice came back clear and professional. "Copy, Marvel. We’re reading you. Telemetry looks good on our end. You’re cleared to—" The line suddenly filled with the sharp sound of fabric tearing and a heavy impact. Hill’s voice fractured mid-sentence into pure noise. "H-Huhw—cleared to—ssskr—Get the fuck—telemetry—f-uck—right—GOD—"

More ripping. Something metal clattered. Digital static.

Carol frowned inside the vacuum of space. Placing hands on her absurdly curvy hips. "Hill? You’re breaking up hard. Repeat last transmission."

---

Down in the S.H.I.E.L.D. command center, the main floor turned into a wreckage of frozen men and thrashing women.

Director Maria Hill, Leader of Shield, had been standing at the central holotable, arms crossed, watching the satellite feed. There were reports of women acting strange across the globe, but she had told Agent Melinda to take a look at those reports, as this satellite was key in preventing otherworldly threats and preventing anything like a Thanos-level situation from coming without them being prepared. But the glitch hit her without warning. And the final level of authority at S.H.I.E.L.D. was first to fall. Her body snapped into violent, directionless motion. The force of the twist drove her backward into the holotable hard enough to spiderweb the glass and kill half the displays. Both arms flailed in huge, clumsy arcs as she tried and failed to match the original pose, one hand stabbing downward while the other ripped at her clothes. Her tactical top was torn open down the front in three hard yanks. Her breasts spilled free, and the next uncontrolled lurch drove her face straight into them. Drool spilled from her open mouth across her own skin as she kept thrashing, legs kicking against the base of the table. Between her cheeks, her asshole clenched tight, then opened in a quick flutter, fully exposed while her arms kept overshooting every attempt at the stance.

"H-Huhw—ssskr—Get the fuck—cleared—f-uck-me—right—I’ll—"

A few meters away, Agent Melinda May had been reviewing a side console, trying to get in touch with her agents currently on the field. "Come in! This is Agent May. Your superior is demanding direct confirmation of the status on th—huhw—yttt-fuck-the—fuck-me—" The same chaos took her. The asian agent trained her life to resist all forms of mental manipulation was thrown sideways into the bank of monitors, shattering the screens in a burst of sparks. Both arms windmilled wildly as she shredded her own pants in long, uneven rips until only black strips remained around her thighs. She tried to plant her feet and recreate Gwen's looping pose, but every attempt sent her elbows and shoulders swinging too far, her whole upper body pitching forward until her face pressed into the soft weight of her chest. Spit ran down her skin while her asshole clenched and released in the open air. "—console—Get the fuck off—ssssht—or I—swear—"

Agent Daisy Johnson had been leaning against a railing with a tablet. "Huh? Wha-" The glitch hit her mid-breath and the force of it nearly sent her over the edge. She caught herself on the rail with one flailing arm while the other tore her pants apart in frantic, jerky motions until the fabric hung in ruins. Her body kept trying to twist into the original stance and failing, limbs flying in the wrong directions, chest bouncing hard enough that her top rode up. "H-H—tablet—f-uck—right now—krkr—I’ll—" Her face dropped forward into her own cleavage a second later, a thick string of drool already connecting her lip to her skin. Her asshole pulsed visibly with every broken cycle.

Every other woman on the floor went through her own version of the same disaster. Bodies crashed into consoles and chairs. Clothing was ripped to pieces by their own hands. Arms flailed in oversized, failed copies of the original movements. Assholes clenched and fluttered in the open. The men remained perfectly frozen at their stations, hands still on keyboards or mid-gesture, completely untouched.

---

Back in orbit, Carol listened to the mess of overlapping crashes, torn fabric, and broken audio for another few seconds. She sighed, annoyed.

"Jesus, Hill. If the line’s this bad, just give me a simple go or no-go."

More glitched shouting and the sound of things breaking answered her. Carol rolled her eyes behind the faceplate.

"I’m taking that as a go. Pushing to secondary orbit. And somebody fix your damn comms. I need a nap after this."

She planted both hands on the satellite and began the slow, powerful shove that would send it higher, completely unaware that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and half the female agents on the command floor were currently destroying the ops center in a broken, clothes-ripping, face-in-chest loop of someone else’s last furious reaction.

---

In the hallway, I was too dazed to even notice anything; the headache was crazy. Everything came in as muffled noise; I heard things but couldn't exactly make out any of it. I staggered to the table, shoved the rest of the burrito into my mouth in three huge bites, and chugged the chocolate milk until the carton crumpled. Milk ran down my chin and onto my shirt. I kept banging the heel of my hand against my temple between swallows.

"Come on… come on…"

The food helped. The white-hot spike behind my eyes finally dulled to a heavy, manageable throb.

I still had no idea that women across the planet were currently trapped in a broken, elbow-snapping, hip-twisting, clothes-ripping, asshole-clenching glitch of one girl’s last furious reaction. But if I had known, honestly I wouldn't have cared. Or, if anything, this knowledge of how my power worked would've been used to make their lives even worse. The true potential of how this extended beyond just time would've been fruitful information. Alas, this headache made that all impossible to focus on.

I just needed the headache to finish dying so I could think straight again. Sitting on a nearby chair, I guzzled more and more. Eventually, I headed back over to the cafeteria to find more food. Making sure not to pass out. I spent a good while slowly recharging until my stamina began to regain itself. In ten, fifteen? Twenty? Who's to say? I was eventually able to focus in more; I had no idea how long I was out, or how long the world was set on loop, but by the time my senses returned, I walked out; everything was frozen, the world was stopped as I left it.

Only across the earth it was stopped in severe states of disarray. Psylocke's asshole was fully smeared across the glass, paused mid-press; Jean's face was still buried in her own tits, amidst the destroyed judge's bench. She-Hulk and Titania's asses were clenching hard enough to pale the skin around their holes; Rogue and the civilian woman were mid-air, falling in a tangled mess of torn yellow latex and ripped cotton. Rogue would've been fine, but the woman certainly wouldn't be walking off the impact, and that would've sat on Rogue's shoulders for as long as she could remember. Ororo's breast was pressed on the floor with her ass paused mid-asshole pulse. Jean was a complete mess in the school under her own name. In her Brooklyn apartment, Wanda Maximoff was frozen similarly to She-Hulk, with her face mashed between her own breasts, the ruined red leotard hanging in strips around her thighs. And high above, Maria Hill, Melinda May, and the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. command center were a tableau of shattered glass and flailing, half-naked female bodies, all locked. And Captain Marvel, speaking into her coms, was confused to find no one responding.

She returned to Earth, as the only person moving. Let's say she knew something was very, very wrong. And at this moment she was the fastest thing alive, blitzing through the Earth looking for anyone else who could move. Visiting the local magic users led to nothing, with Wanda Maximoff just like every other woman, and Dr. Strange frozen in time. Captain Marvel moved so fast, her speed was impossible to define, in contrast to school, where I was rubbing my head, unaware that someone very fast and powerful would eventually find me.

I yawned, approaching Gwen. "So. You're still doing this?"

In response, Gwen's asshole twitched as she swung her elbow back, "Get the fuck off me right now, or I—"

"Alright, chillax." I said, "Gwen, stop."

Rubbing my head, I looked over, not fully noticing that the women were in completely different states from when they were paused. "Time rewind.. till.. I dunno when Gwen was about to walk into the bathroom."

Right as I said this, there was a sonic boom that erupted in the distance. Is that a new sign of my power? Or am I just that fucked up right now?

Time reversed around me. The splintered wood of the courtroom tables pieced themselves back together. She-Hulk and Titania's forms rose from the floor, their clothes reweaving themselves onto their bodies with impossible speed. The judge's bench repaired itself. Rogue and the falling civilian woman shot back into the sky, their clothes knitting shut. Ororo stood tall again, her corset and panties rematerializing, her breast receding back into its cup. The hole in the bathroom wall sealed. The library books flew back onto their shelves around Wanda. Maria Hill and her agents stood up from their wrecked consoles, their tactical gear reforming.

It all happened in the span of a few moments. The world playing in reverse.

The important bit I failed to grasp was how Captain Marvel, now well within my radius, was hit by the ripple just as her absurd speed blasted into my section of New York. Directly above my school, she stopped mid-flying pose, her slim body contrasted by the absurd round fatty meat of her ass and bulge of her bust suddenly was cause in a reverse. "What the HELL!? Is going on here! Someone report! ANYONE! RRUGH! WHEN I FIND OUT WHO DID THIS TO MY EARTH—HTRAE YM OT SIHT DID OHW TUO DNIF I NEHW !HGUURR !ENOYNA !TROPER ENOEMOS !EREH NO GNIOG SI ?!LLEH EHT TAHW" The one person who knew something was horribly wrong was reversed back toward the satellite, flying backward like an idiot speaking gibberish while poised to be flying forward on her course returning to space. Ironically, out of the radius, where she'd promptly forget what she saw. The only person who could tell the truth had their memory erased like a backward-playing TV recording. Same for the rest of the world, as I waited for Gwen to get in position, Ororo was currently running forward while moving backward through the halls, "—sehcaer siht erofeb meht fo eno no temleh eht teG .meht dniF .s'naeJ retfa tsegnorts eht si dnim s'ammE .ekcolysP ro ammE .yletaidemmi orbereC ni-"

It was a surreal sight, everywhere, one I wholly missed as I just sat waiting for Gwen to get re-fucked in reverse by someone who wasn't even there... and then it stopped. The exact moment before Gwen's face had twisted in fury. Before I had passed out, before I had even started to fuck her, she was fully clothed again. And the rest of the world had all evidence or memory of what happened undone. Hell, even me not knowing it happened outside of this narration, literally no one knew it occurred.

"Okay, bitch." I approached Gwen's form, frozen mid-walk. "I blame you," pointing a finger into her tit, I deliberately pushed into her nipple, giving it a strong and powerful twist through her clothes while staring her dead in the eyes. "This is all your fault." I paused, "Well, obviously it's basically my fault... BUT it's YOUR fault for taunting me! Couldn't you have just waited like 10 seconds to walk over here? This is 100%... okay, 90%... no, 1% your fault! And I mean- I-I have no self-control, so that 1% of you is like 100% in my eyes." I continued speaking to the non-responsive meat doll. Gwen remained poised with her hip popped, mid-stride, a look of vague annoyance frozen on her face. "You're lucky you're hot," I told her, smacking her tit. "You know I bet if I asked your friend she'd agree. Wanna bring her over?" I said with a deep sigh.

I marched back into the classroom Tandy had stormed out of before, her frozen form no longer standing there mid-shout, had been rewound to her desk; she sat back with a paused grin and a toothpick hanging from her lip. I approached Tandy Bowen's desk, looking down at her perfect form. "Hey," I said, knowing full well she couldn't hear me. "You think your friend deserved that? The little ass-whipping she got? I think so." I began, circling Tandy like a shark, "You're gonna come with me." I grabbed her wrist; her skin was cold and unmoving, and I pulled her off the chair, then made her stand at attention. She moved with zero resistance, her body sliding across the floor as I shifted to dragging her by the hair across the floor, her lips dragging, leaving drool as her mouth was smeared open across the floor, catching all the dirt and passing over random wet splotches until we were back in the hall and I lifted her up and dropped her with a thud next to Gwen.

I stepped back, admiring my work. Two beautiful, frozen women, one in mid-stride, the other standing at attention. "Okay, Tandy. If that really is your name." I turned her face to look at me, noticing her expression was stuck mid-smear from the floor before; it looked ridiculous. Her lips were stretched off to the side, drooling like an idiot with dirt and gunk all over her face and tits; actually, her cleavage in that tank top worked as a perfect dustpan. I promptly gave her face a litt'e fix, making her smile. And I used her hair to quickly wipe the dirt off it too. But her cleavage can stay like that. I don't think she had any complaints because all she did was wobble on the floor in response to my actions; it was a slight wobble, like brushing against a mannequin.

"I gotta ask, this is her fault, right?" I then raised her hand and made her slap Gwen, then I grabbed her jaw and made her open her mouth, all the while Gwen just remained poised mid-walk. And Tandy stood like a doll with a fake frozen smile glued, neither responsive nor holding any complaints about what was occurring. "Yes. This is all her fault." I mocked what a dumb girl would sound like, while opening and closing her face and controlling her arm like a puppet to point at Gwen. "Welp, you heard ot from her. Now kiss dumb bitches."

I used Tandy's hands to grab her by the hair, and then moved her face forward and pushed it right against Gwen's ass. Then Tandy's head stopped, her lips pressed against Gwen's ass. I then resumed my control over her, making her head move from side to side, her lips dragging against Gwen's leggings with an unnatural smooth friction. The image was absurd. A perfectly still Gwen being molested by her equally frozen friend, whose face I was using like a washcloth on Gwen's backside.

"You know, I'm starting to get some ideas." I mused aloud, stepping back to survey the scene. The potential was intoxicating. This was better than a paused video game; this was a paused world with real dolls. "But you're lucky I just need to relax." I knocked Tandy aside; she toppled and pulled out my dick.

I stood Gwen at attention too, then ripped down her skirt again, and stroked myself a few times while looking at it; god, I could just stare at this thing. I still don't get how it could be so small and perky yet so fat and full. Already half-hard from the sight alone. It didn’t take long. I came across the lower curve of her ass and the back of her thighs, watching it land in thick streaks. I took her frozen right hand and wrapped the fingers around my dick; she wobbled in excitement, then I used her hand to smear the cum across her lips and cheek, pressing the head against her mouth so it coated them evenly. After that, I forced her other hand down, made her scoop some of the mess off her own thigh, and pushed her fingers (and the cum) straight into her panties, rubbing it against her pussy. I kept using both of her hands to work the rest of it into her skin like lotion, spreading it over her ass cheeks and the backs of her thighs until most of it had rubbed in and gone nearly invisible. When I was done, I pulled her panties and skirt back up, fixed her arms into a normal walking position, and stepped away.

Good enough. I grabbed the spoon, salt, pepper, and plate from the table and headed back to Dr. Green’s classroom, only to trip on Tandy's tit, causing the blonde's boob to spill out and all my food to fall all over her, including a freshly opened breakfast burrito. "Oh~! Oh really!? You HAD to do that, huh!?" I looked down; in response, she simply wobbled and jiggled on the floor, dumb frozen smile staring up past him at the ceiling. "What's wrong with you!?" I then made a show of looking at her. "Oh. You can't talk. Right. My bad." I then kicked her side, causing her to roll over; Tandy's head knocked against the wall with a dull thud. "Well, you're an inconvenience," I said, looking at her exposed tit with a piece of egg on it. I then grabbed her boob and squeezed. "That's what you get for getting in my way," I said, as the remaining cum oozed out of Gwen's skirt and onto her thigh and dripped to the floor, making a small puddle. "You're all a bunch of bitches." I then left her pose like that, ass up, tits down, with a ruined breakfast all over her back. Leaning down, I opened her mouth, making her tongue extend out, and began to drag her across the floor as a human mop. I wasn't going to clean up this mess. She was. It was her fault for getting in my way.

Dragging Tandy's tongue, which served as lubrication while her hair spilled about like the mop's strands, I did the School's janitors' job for them and brought the blond all the way back to her classroom. Sitting her back in position, or as close to her spot as I could remember. I thought it was close enough. I didn't want to rewind her because I wanted the taste of the floor, cum, and her best friend's ass to be fresh. And she won't even know what it is. Looking her over, she sat there with a smile, and that toothpick back between her lips, which had been so absurdly smeared. She just looked like she had fallen in dirt. Her boobs had been retucked into that tanktop; cleavage had collected quite a bit of dirt, though. It was still a bit damp from some liquid, maybe some of my cum I didn't see, but her boobies easily scooped up. She was my new art project, and this was a piece I could be proud of. The only thing missing was a cum stain on her face. And that could be arranged. But I didn't want it to be too obvious; as of now, she looks like she just fell in dirt, cum on the face wouldn't be easy to explain.

And unfortunately, I feel as though I'll have to use my powers a lot less at school today. I went a bit overboard and need to relax. So I don't feel like just putting him blatantly on her face because that would be a whole thing. I could permanently freeze her, not like she'd complain. The only one who'd miss her is Gwen, and then I could just take her too. But they are the new students; who knows how big their ties or families are, and when I'm trying to use my powers a bit less... also they're not on the list. I think I'll leave them around. Besides, I need a cast of toys to just constantly fuck with. She's gonna be so confused, but not even be able to blame anyone.

If only I could stay to see...

My head pulsed.

"FUCK!" I stumbled back. "Okay, okay. I'll chill out." Mumbling to myself, I left the room, Tandy an absolute mess, dirty and some other liquids staining her cleavage and top, hair in her teeth, and is that a wad of gum in her hair? Oh, she'll have fun dealing with that.

I walked out, not forgetting to grab a fresh burrito, returning to the mess hall. It was quiet. As I left, I looked over, seeing Gwen. The frozen blonde stayed exactly where she was, cum worked into her face and panties, completely unaware, stuck mid-walk to the bathroom. It was massaged in pretty well; you can barely tell it's cum, it just looks like lotion or sweat. Though, I do wonder what it feels like.

And... I'll keep on wondering. Because damn... I need to fucking chill. Dr. Green's classroom welcomes me with open arms as I crash down before chowing down and mumbling through bites...

"Time start!"

---

Might be the last chapter for a while as I potentially retool how I do this story, or I might just feel like stopping here entirely; it depends on the feedback this receives and my mood. I put a poll, as I've seen some talk, and even got a couple of messages with some opinions on Dexter's level of intelligence. I personally like dumb Dexter; I think it makes the story interesting, as his power is so broken I believe it gives the story some extra chaos; for example, this chapter, whether you thought it was fun or not, couldn't have happened if he wasn't a dumbass. Basically, if he didn't break his own limiter and spazz out his power, this just wouldn't happen; he can't force this to happen. But it does tease at the things he CAN force into occurring once he learns how.

But that doesn't mean smart Dexter can't lead to fun; it just means more cautious, fewer mistakes. His power is so OP that its really not that hard to avoid making mistakes. But things like randomly and permanently deciding to just take a teacher as a doll probably won't happen, as that's just not a smart thing to do in regard to staying under the radar. Maybe I can see the appeal to a methodical Dexter who basically is always one step ahead; mistakes aren't a thing that the heroes can use to get an edge, and he never or rarely has worries with the OP nature of his power.

So I put up a poll; in the end, I'll probably just write what I want, or just not write past this if I don't want to. But it gives me an idea; I'm not sure if my opinion is just the one that is clouded, and most people are sick of dumb Dexter. I put three options; you can see them as a scale: smart, dumb, a little in between, but more smart than dumb.

Dexter preferred IQ/Personality

82 votes · Closes Aug 26, 2026, 6:03 AM (2 days from now)

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