The Wasp Shows The Recording To Sue

"Hey babe," Janet van Dyne said. She and Sue Storm air-kissed, then sat down. The Invisible Woman was in her standard, conservative Fantastic Four uniform. The high white neck, gloves, boots, the unstable molecule fabric hugged her form. A body that many women would kill and bury the bodies for.

"So!" Sue said, as she looked around Janet's Manhattan apartment. Lots of glass and crystal, lots of mirrored surfaces. It was tasteful, though Sue didn't know which works were abstract art pieces and which hid interfaces to high-end technology. "What did you ask me here for? Not champagne spritzers for brunch..."

"No," the Wasp said, with a weak smile. "You know how after that business with Jessica Jones I started keeping an eye on the dark nets? To catch all the superheroine porn stuff going on, make sure no more young heroines go missing, that kind of thing?"

"Of course," Sue nodded. Her blue eyes were bright, and she stared at Janet and seemed...just like herself. Nothing different, no hint of hiding anything. Yet at the same time, she looked exactly like the woman on the recording. "It's good work. Have you found something?"

"Yes," Jan said. "Someone approached me with an offer to sell a recording of a top-tier heroine. Having explicit sex. With someone who isn't her husband. Some sort of mutant."

The Invisible Woman seemed to freeze in place. If it was a bluff, it was a good one. Janet couldn't read anything from her facial expression at all. It almost looked like Sue was in shock. To break the moment, Janet pressed a small clear button, and one of the glass panels on the wall behind her turned out to be a high-tech screen.

Sue Storm's eyes drifted from her friend's face to the porn that played on the wall behind Janet van Dyne's head. The face was impassive. The eyes widened a little, but followed the motion of the two performers. The great pink cock, inhumanly long and thick, seemed too big for the tiny pussy it was crammed into. There was no sound, but even as Sue studied the recording, Janet studied Sue.

Was that a hint of nipples hardening beneath that tight fabric? Did the Invisible Woman's knees spread a little wider, her pelivs thrust ever-so slightly at a provactive angle, as if to avoid having her pussy rest on the hard surface of the chair? Was that the hint of a hickie, just below her right ear, disappearing into the high neck-line of the costume?

For days, Janet had watched the recording. She hadn't been able to find any proof that it was a deepfake or Life Model Decoy. Even a clone seemed more plausible than the idea that Sue Storm would let herself be fucked and filmed. Everything about it seemed genuine, yet that had been impossible. Before she brought it to Tony Stark or someone else to take the file apart, she'd decided to broach the subject with Sue. Just so that the Invisible Woman knew that this was out there, that Janet was on top of it.

Then Sue whispered the words that shook Janet to the core.

"That bastard," Sue said. "He sold it!"