Porkum Goes On A Date With Sue and Janet

A limousine picked up Sue Storm at the Baxter Building. The Invisible Woman had not explained to her family why she wore the scandalously short blue dress, with neither bra nor panties. If Sue was surprised when the liveried chauffeur opened the door to see Janet van Dyne, in a matching red dress, already inside with Porkum, she did not show it.

Because that scent wafted up to her, beneath Janet's perfume and Porkum's cologne. The masculine reek was like burying her face in a pig's sweaty scrotum. It made Sue Storm's pussy dribble just to catch a whiff of it.

"Janet," Sue said.

"Susan," Jan acknowledged.

They shared a look that spoke volumes. They were both, they immediately knew, in the same boat. Sexually enslaved to the same disgusting pig of a man. Yet they smiled sweetly at each other. A shared pain in their eyes. A shared desire in their hearts.

Well no, Sue admitted as she rubbed her knees together. Not her heart. It was her cunt that wanted Porkum. Her heart had nothing to do with it. She was certain the Wasp was in the same boat.

Porkum, dressed in a bespoke grey pinstripe suit that did little to hide the bulge along his left leg, laid his hands on their knees.

"Where are we going, Porkie?" Sue asked.

"There's an adult film festival," Porkum said. "It should be...stimulating. Might give us a few ideas."

There was a flash of cameras as they emerged. Sue Storm's face burned, certain that the paparazzi had caught a look up her skirt and realized she wasn't wearing panties. Her only consolation was that the same thing happened to Jan as she left.

Porkum walked with a hand on each of their asses, all the way down the red carpet and into the old-time theater, recently restored to some semblance of a 1920s movie palace with pink marble and polished wood, red velvet draperies and gilded angels. The lobby was crowded with film critics, producers, and porn stars. Most of them were dressed more skimpily than the two heroines that hung off the mutant pig-man's arms. A young usher in a suit stepped forward and escorted the trio to their seats.

It was a private box, and yet not so private. Porkum sat in the middle, and immediately his fingers clamped onto their crotches, fingers rubbing against their exposed slits in plain view of the other boxes.

The lights dimmed. The first film began.

Sue Storm gasped. It was one of her films. Her heart sank as she realized that this would be on the internet tonight, all over the newspapers tomorrow. There was no way she could avoid it.

She gasped, her back arching as she watched herself on screen, handling Porkum's prick with singular enthusiasm. Janet and Sue were red-faced and panting, their pussies squelching in unison on Porkum's fingers.

Porkum grinned. Neither of these sluts would be going home tonight. And tomorrow, the whole world would know exactly what they were. He wondered what the headlines would read.