A More Cautious Adam

You are staring directly at Mary Jane Watson’s chest, debating whether or not to rewrite her mind.

She is easily among the three hottest girls at Midtown University, and indisputably the finest redhead on campus.

She has long, soft red hair and brilliant green eyes that twinkle with intelligence. Her body is pure sin. She boasts one of the biggest pairs of breasts in the entire student body, and she has a habit of wearing tops that conform perfectly to them. Today, she’s wearing a light green blouse that is just a little too tight, hugging her curves in an incredibly appetizing way.

You haven't used your powers on her; you've barely used your powers at all, truth be told. The world outside is locked in a fierce, terrifying political crisis over the "mutant menace," with extremist movements openly demanding the extermination of super-beings. You know your specific ability—surgically violating free will by rewriting a person's history—makes you the type of mutant they fear most. You aren't a fan of English class, but even you can see the parallels between your ability and that of the party in 1984—he who controls the past, controls the present; and he who controls the present determines the future. If the human authorities find out what you are, you’ll be hunted down and executed.

To make matters worse for you, though you are terrifying by normal-human standards, you are weak by mutant standards, doubling the amount of danger you are in. If the heavy-hitting telepaths like Professor X or the White Queen discover you are rewriting gorgeous women to form a private harem, they will crush you in an instant.

The math is simple: the more you use your power, the higher the odds of getting caught, so you have refrained from abusing your gift.

You are debating whether there is any way you can get what you want—namely, her tits wrapped around your cock—when Mary Jane turns her head and catches you ogling her. She grimaces in slight disgust, and awkwardly crosses her arm to shield her cleavage, and looks away.

That look confirms it. Without your gift, you don't stand a chance. Your choices are to either let her go forever, or use your power. You make a split-second decision, and activate your power. A sharp, familiar tug hits the base of your skull and the lecture hall plunges into a dead crawl as time slows to a freeze for everyone else.

Unlike Gwen Stacy, the police commissioner’s daughter, or Felicia Hardy, the high-society debutante, Mary Jane is mostly insignificant. She does some modeling on the side, but other than that, she is just an ordinary college student. You highly doubt anyone in the wider world is going to notice or care if you make a few subtle changes to her history. The only person outside of her who might even notice is her equally insignificant fiancé, Peter, but you can easily rewrite his memories too if he becomes an obstacle.

This is as risk-free as it is ever going to get, and Mary Jane is so breathtakingly hot that she is more than worth what little risk there is.

You lock your eyes onto her frozen form and plunge deep into her mindscape.

The mental architecture of Mary Jane Watson opens up before you like an interactive, living archive. Safe within the time-dilation of your power, you are free to take your time, sorting through her most recent memories like pulling files from a shelf.

Scanning the upcoming week in her mental calendar, you spot a perfect anchor: Peter Parker’s birthday is exactly seven days away.

Smiling in the dark, you get to work on her memory banks, executing a two-pronged surgical rewrite.

First, you target her history with Peter. You seamlessly weave a fabricated confession into their relationship timeline. You make her remember Peter sitting her down, sheepish and desperate, admitting to a deep-seated cuckold fetish. In this new memory, Peter begs her for a very specific birthday present: he wants a high-quality video of her fucking another guy so he can use it to jerk off. Instantly, you feel Mary Jane's revulsion and disgust at the request, as well as an immediate denial.

You rewrite her reaction, making her feel an overwhelming surge of profound relief and excitement instead. She remembers agreeing to it, playing the part of reluctant girlfriend indulging her boyfriends fetish, while internally vibrating with excitement because Peter had just given her the perfect, guilt-free excuse to finally do something she has secretly wanted to for months.

Simultaneously, you get to work overhauling how she remembers you.

In reality, your history with Mary Jane is practically nonexistent. You are just a face in her lectures, a quiet guy who has occasionally leered at her a little too long, earning you a spot in her mind as just another campus creep. You dig up those fleeting, organic memories—the moments she caught you staring and felt a flash of irritation and skin-crawling discomfort—and you methodically replace the revulsion with lust.

You expand this spark, rolling it backward through her history until it snowballs into a full-blown, months-long infatuation. You rewrite her private moments. Now, when she remembers staying up late at night wondering why Peter is always late or absent, she instead remembers slipping a frantic finger into her soaking wet pussy, masturbating aggressively while moaning your name. You find her memories of being naked—examining her massive, heavy breasts in the mirror, looking over her shoulder at the delicious, tight curve of her bubble butt—and you embed your own phantom gaze into them. She remembers wishing you were there to grab her, to claim her, to tell her she belongs to you.

You watch her pliant mind soak up the edits, adapting beautifully. She begins rationalizing the changes on her own, her altered brain doing half the work for you. By the time you reach her memory of you staring at her tits today, you don't even have to manufacture the sense of accomplishment and giddy excitement she feels when she notices you leering at her. This is how the rewritten Mary Jane will feel whenever you ogle her from now on.

With the past and present aligned, you close your eyes and concentrate on leaving her mindscape. A sharp tug hits the back of your brain, darkness explodes, and you snap back into your own skin.

Time unfreezes. The drone of the lecture hall rushes back into your ears. Seconds later, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. The rest of the students rise, shambling towards the exit. Mary Jane, on the other hand, picks up her notebook and moves towards you.

"Hey, Tiger," she says, her voice a low, sultry purr that instantly cuts through the shuffling noise of the departing class. "Take a look at this."

She opens her notebook to a completely blank page and pointing her manicured finger at a random spot in the center. To anyone else glancing over, she looks like a diligent student sharing her calculus notes. In truth, it’s a beautifully transparent excuse to put her body on display.

As she leans over your desk, her tight green blouse shifts lower, treating you to an unhindered, breathtaking view of her massive cleavage.

The heat radiating off her skin carries the sweet scent of her perfume. She locks her emerald eyes onto yours and gives her heavy breasts a deliberate, teasing little shake, her nipples straining hard against the thin fabric.

"Are we still good to go back to your place after school?" she whispers, her lips curving into a nervous little smile. "To... get started on Peter's present?"

A thrill of pure, dark triumph shoots straight down your spine. It worked flawlessly.

That specific arrangement was the final master stroke you had woven into her mindscape. Because of the fabricated cuckold request from Peter and the manufactured months of her aching lust for you, the idea had already been half-formed in her subconscious. You had simply stepped in and solidified it into an absolute truth.

In her newly rewritten memory, she distinctly remembers cornering you right before class started. She remembers her heart hammering violently against her ribs as she desperately, nervously asked if you would be the man to help her film Peter's birthday video. In her mind, your past self had given her a slow, dominant smile and gamely agreed. She even remembers picking out this specific, skin-tight green blouse this morning for the sole purpose of enticing you for the shoot.

Looking up at her now, seeing the terrifyingly hunger in her eyes, you realize you hold the strings to her entire reality.

"Yeah, MJ," you say, your voice smooth as you let your eyes slowly drink in the sight of her jiggling chest. "We're definitely still good. Let's get out of here."

---

The heavy oak door of your off-campus Queens studio apartment clicks shut, locking out the rest of the world. Finally, you are in total control, far away from the prying eyes of the university or the dangerous telepaths you so desperately fear.

Mary Jane drops her bag on the floor and turns to you, her green eyes dark with an intense, manufactured hunger. "Nice place, Tiger," she murmurs, her voice thick with anticipation. "So... how do we do this?"

You pull out your phone, setting it to high-resolution camera mode. "Let's start with a few photos," you command, enjoying the immediate, submissive nod she gives you. "Lose the dress."

Mary Jane’s breath hitches with a mix of excitement and nerves, but she doesn't hesitate. Reaching down to the hem of her light green blouse, she pulls it up and over her head in one smooth, fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Your jaw nearly drops. She isn't wearing a bra.

Her massive, heavy breasts spill free, completely bare and perfectly shaped. Her cute pink nipples are already pert and hard against the cool air of the studio. She stands there in just her black lace underwear, her long red hair framing her shoulders, looking like pure temptation.

"Like this, Adam?" she asks softly, her cheeks flushing with a delicious heat.

"Perfect. Now lean back against the kitchen counter," you direct, lifting the phone.

She glides over to the counter, arching her back to thrust her heavy chest forward, letting her breasts bounce slightly before settling into a breathtaking pose. She pops her wide, curved hip and bites her lip, her emerald eyes locked onto the camera lens with shouldering arousal.

"Give me one where you are lifting your tits and sucking on your own nipple." *Snap.*

"Now lose the underwear, turn over, and bend over. Let me see that fat ass."

You snap a photo after photo, capturing her in every pose you can think of, and from every angle, immortalizing her flawless, bare upper body and her tight, toned midriff in film forever. You only stop when your erection becomes too much to bare.

You switch the phone to video mode, pointing the lens directly at her, and say, "Come here, MJ. Crawl to me like the slut you are."

Mary Jane freezes. The submissive, hungry warmth in her emerald eyes shatters, replaced by a sudden flash of profound hurt and burning humiliation. Her jaw tightens, and she flinches slightly, her naked shoulders tensing as a wave of deep-seated offense washes over her. Her real, core personality is pushing back—she might be deeply infatuated with you, but being degraded like a common whore cuts too deep against her self-respect.

You catch the shift immediately and activate your power. Inside her mindscape, you dive back into her immediate memory banks, targeting the last three seconds.

You find the sharp spike of her offense and hurt, and you surgically excise it from her consciousness. You leave no trace of the sting. Instead, you flood the void with a powerful, intoxicating surge of submissive validation and raw, electric arousal. You give her other memories of you calling her a slut and whore, and have her interpret your words not as an insult, but as the ultimate title of honor from the only man she worships. You plant the deep, unshakable conviction that being your slut is the highest, most thrilling privilege she could ever achieve—a total surrender of her body to the master of her desires.

With the rewrite seamlessly locked into place, you break the connection. Darkness flashes, and you snap back into your skin.

Time unfreezes.

The look of hurt on Mary Jane’s face instantly dissolves, melting away as if it never existed. You double-click the record button, ending the old recording and starting a new one that starts with her eyes clouding over with an even heavier, darker wave of unadulterated lust. A breathtaking, wanton smirk spreads across her plump lips, and her naked body shivers with a sudden, intense spike of arousal.

"Yes, Adam..." she purrs, her voice trembling with a terrifying level of pleasure as she fully embraces her new reality. "Whatever you want."

Dropping down to her hands and knees, she doesn't hesitate for a single second. She begins slowly crawling across the floor toward your bed, her long red hair swaying as she moves.

With every forward shift, her massive, bare breasts swing beautifully in front of the camera lens, and her heavy, rounded bubble butt arches high into the air, slowly driving you insane with lust. She stops directly between your knees, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

Without needing a single word, her manicured fingers work quickly to undo your belt and slide your pants down, freeing your rock-hard cock. Mary Jane gasps slightly, her lips parting as she stares at it with unadulterated hunger.

"It's so beautiful, Adam," she whispers. She wraps a warm, soft hand around your shaft, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke that pulls a heavy groan from your throat.

Smirking at your reaction, she leans closer, opens her mouth wide, and slides the wet head of your cock past her plump, glossy lips.

The sensation is intoxicating. She takes you deep, her tongue swirling around your shaft while she looks up at you through her eyelashes. Your hands shake despite your best efforts to keep the camera steady as it captures everything—the contrast of her fiery red hair against your thighs, and the sloppy, desperate rhythm of her throat taking you in. Sensing your mounting arousal, she decides to take things even further.

Slowly, she pulls back, a thick strand of saliva connecting her glossy lips to the wet head of your cock. You almost groan in protest until you notice her reaching down to her lift her tits. A new wave of excitement washes over you as Mary Jane voluntarily presses her massive, bare breasts together, trapping your rigid shaft tightly between them.

"Do you like the view, Peter?" She asks the camera, before giving it a wicked smirk. "I bet you love it."

"Fuck, MJ," you groan as she begins sliding her upper body up and down, working your length with the heavy weight of her cleavage while leaning forward to enthusiastically lick and suck the exposed head of your cock.

"What about you, Adam?" she mumbles in between licks, her tongue swirling expertly over the tip as the phone tracks the smooth rhythm of her breasts squeezing and milking you. "Do you like it? Tell me I'm your good little slut."

"You're a perfect slut," you growl. The intense, milking friction of her heavy breasts combined with the wet, swirling warmth of her tongue pushes you over the edge. You buckle forward as your cock violently spasms, shooting a thick, hot jet of cum straight at her face just as she opens her mouth to lick the tip again.

Mary Jane gasps in surprise as the first heavy burst lands directly inside her mouth, coating her tongue. She swallows hard on instinct, her emerald eyes widening in a mix of shock and ecstasy. The remaining ropes of your release splatter across her face, catching her cheek, her chin, and painting her massive, squeezed-together breasts in thick, white streaks.

She holds perfectly still for a moment, panting heavily, completely covered in your seed while the phone camera captures every single detail of her messy, compromised state.

"Oh, wow, Tiger..." she breathes, a wanton, dazed smile spreading across her sticky lips. She looks up at you, thrilled by how thoroughly you just claimed her.

Remembering the video is still rolling, you keep the lens locked onto her. "Clean it up, MJ. For the camera."

"Yes, Adam," she purrs submissively.

With slow, highly deliberate movements, she begins to clean herself up on film. She runs a manicured finger across her jawline, scooping up a dollop of cum and sliding it into her mouth, licking her finger clean with a soft pop. She then uses her palms to smear the white heat across her heavy breasts, massaging it into her skin and teasing her hard, pink nipples for the lens, making sure the visual is as dirty and enticing as possible for the supposed birthday video.

Finally, she looks down and notices that a few stray drops of your release missed her entirely, landing on the dark hardwood floor between your knees.

Without needing a single prompt from you, her new programming takes over completely. She drops her head lower, leaning down on her forearms so that her massive tits press firmly against the floorboards. Slowly, hungrily, she extends her wet tongue and licks the remaining cum directly off the floor, swallowing it down before looking back up into the lens with a look of pride.

You click the record button, ending the video on the ultimate testament to her total surrender. You look down at your beautiful, compliant redhead, knowing that this is only day one of your private paradise, and you have an entire week left to play with her.

Author's Note: I forgot I started this thread until I was looking through my old chapters today. I have been inspired and am restarting it.

My links seem to break frequently, so here is the direct image gallery link in case you need it: https://civitai.red/posts/29473751