The Corruption of Mary Jane Watson

It had been five days since MJ’s misadventures at Barely Legal. She had not seen Rob since then, last seeing him a few days beforehand, meaning she had gone a whole week without his magic cock.

These two facts combined to send MJ’s libido spiralling out of control and she was oh so happy for it.

For a while now, she had been dipping her toes into the world of smut and porn, her mind and body opening up to new experiences, which sent her teetering on the edge before the abyss of depravity. Now, after everything that happened in the club, she was over the edge, swallowed by the abyss, and was happily embracing her own sense of sexuality and perversion.

No, she wasn’t doing lines of coke every night like she was a waifish twentysomething in her New York flat. She had found new vices, new addictions, something that gave her the same sense of euphoria without threatening to destroy her body in the long run.

“Ah! Ah! A-a-ah! Fuck! Fuck! It’s so good Rob!” MJ squatted down on the nice, thick dildo that was suction cupped to her hardwood floors, riding it up and down, letting it fill and stretch her, imagining that the pleasurable piece of plastic was Rob’s girthy dick. “Mmmmmmaster… yeah, you like that, don’t you? Me too… oh god, I like it, too! Fuck Rob, I wanna be your ****! Your slutty little redheaded fucktoy!”

In the past week, she had acquired several new toys for herself, but this one with it’s mounting was her favourite. She could paste it on the floor or the walls and slam her crotch and butt against it, different positions, eyes shut, trying to fantasize that it was Rob fucki - no! Using her. Using his property.

“You want it, too, don’t you? Yeah, yeah, yeah… all guys want their girls to be sluts. To be subby little cocksleaves… does it turn you on? That the girl next door - little MJ Watson, scrawny and gangly with her tangled rat’s nest of hairdo - is now begging to be your sex ****!?”

Sweat sheened upon her freckled skin, the pale colour now tinged with red from how flushed and hot she was. Her vagina juiced indiscriminately, as she pumped up and down the silicon sex toy, imagining Rob’s big hands all over her. Imagining the weight of his ample frame pressing down on her. Imagining the lust in his eyes as she submitted to him.

“Master! Master master master master!” It felt good when she said it. She could feel the endorphins surging in her brain, even if she didn’t know if she wanted it for real or just a little bit of roleplay. A bit of something different to break up the monotony of excellent vanilla sex Rob provided.

“Maaaaster!!! Ugh! What would you do with me Rob? Dress me up like a tart and show me off to the world? Keep me as your maid or secretary and push your drudge work onto me? Chain me to the bed and use me like a living fleshlight? GOD! Why do they all sound so good?”

It was because of Rob. He was the common denominator. MJ couldn’t deny it anymore. Their fling, their infatuation, it had evolved into something more, at least from where she stood. They couldn’t just be “friends with benefits” any longer, not if she had any say in the matter. She couldn’t part with him - his kindness, his sincerity, his generosity, the way he always made time for her, went the extra mile. She couldn’t go back to New York without him. One way or another, MJ was determined to make this thing work and take their relationship to the next level.

“CUMMING! YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM MASTER!!! MAKING MY SLUTTY, USED HOLES CUUUUUUM!!!!”

Or, rather, take it to several new levels…

Masturbating like a teenager that had just discovered the internet wasn’t MJ’s only new hobby, though. She had begun using Slutter more actively. Mostly reaching out to a few of the girls on their and sharing messages, engaging with their posts, offering them compliments and advice, that sort of thing.

Gwen Stacy was, of course, among the number of her new Slutter friends, which was why MJ was shocked when, one day in the middle of the afternoon, Gwen posted a few selfies of herself. And her new body. In a matter of hours Gwen’s lithe, dancer figure had been replaced with a ludicrously curvaceous one, complete with giant tits. When MJ inquired, Gwen explained that her Master had found a radical new plastic surgery technique and had all of his girls go in for “improvements”. And, indeed, MJ found her social feed full of young women showing off their new fake, plastic bimbo boobs.

Yet, Gwen was ecstatic with her new figure. “Anything to please the Master”, she said, and MJ couldn’t help but agree, Gwen’s voluptuous body feeding into the pernicious fantasy she had of sharing the young blonde with Rob. Or, more likely, Rob claiming both women for himself. However their threesome worked out, MJ wanted it. Wanted to sandwich his magic cock in between her breasts and Gwen’s new pair…

Fantasies aside, MJ was quite shocked to find the small coastal Californian town she was staying in transformed into Beverly Hills in miniature, what with all the newly upgraded young women walking around. In the insane view of the modelling world, MJ was considered “full figured”. In model speak, that didn’t mean she was fat or anything, it meant she actually had breasts and curves. Blessed with large breasts and wide hips, MJ remembered her first few weeks on the job and the culture shock she got when she noticed everyone around her was thin, waifish, borderline anorexic! “Heroin chic” they called it, sometimes jokingly, sometimes dismissively. She had actually struggled at times to get bookings, repeatedly told that women with her figure were “speciality models” for “niche shoots”. Thankfully, MJ found an agency and agent that promoted her hard and her personality did the rest, but her trials and tribulations were hardly the point of her mental soliloquy.

The point was, MJ was born with a killer, all-natural figure and had been in the world of beauty and glamour all her life, having lived in NYC, LA, Paris, and Vegas all at different points in her life. And, yet, it was Port Reyes that had some of the most beautiful and sexy women she had ever seen before, and in such a high volume, too.

Strange.

After laying on the floor following her orgasm, letting time slip past her as she drifted on the hormonal rush that came with release, MJ slowly gathered herself and hopped into the shower to clean up and cool off. While she probably could spend the whole day jilling off and burying herself in her lewd fantasies, MJ always found reality preferable to fantasy. She had a date with Rob tonight. And maybe, just maybe, she might be able to work up the courage.

//////

MJ wasn’t able to work up her courage.

She wasn’t dead set on blurting out her newfound fetish, or anything, but she did have designs. Yet all those designs crumbled the moment she found Rob curbside, waiting to pick her up. It was just… how did you tell your childhood friend (yes, she may have been fucking said friend, but still!) that you wanted to play at being his sex ****? Or, maybe more than just “play” at it…. It was intimidating was all! And MJ just didn’t have the strength to say it out and out, unable to go from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye.

No. She didn’t fail. She didn’t falter. This just wasn’t the moment for the conversation. This was an after dinner talk. This was something you said in the middle of foreplay. MJ didn’t fail with her designs, she was just picking the wrong time.

However, as it turned out, Rob had designs of his own.

As soon as they got into his car, Rob told her had something to show her, something to tell her, but she had to trust him. Of course, MJ trusted Rob fully, even when he handed her a blindfold. If anything, the blindfold piqued MJ’s interest and what Rob’s surprise might be.

She played fair, keeping the blindfold on the entire drive and not even bothering to fiddle with it, all the while playing guessing games with Rob. “Hmm… did you get reservations at that fancy new Italian place?”

“Nope.” Rob replied.

“Tickets to a show?”

“Nope.”

“Finally taking me to your private jet? Setting me off to Italy or Japan or wherever?”

“Unless you carry your passport in your purse, that’s gonna fall through.” Rob admitted. MJ could hear his smile. “Besides, if you could reasonably guess what I have planned, why would I even try to hide it from you?”

MJ stuck her tongue out playfully, as the motion of the car rocked her in her seat, back and forth, calm and happy in her ignorance for whatever Rob had in store for him. She supposed this was fair, a surprise for a surprise. MJ was certain Rob would never see her change of heart and new cravings coming from a mile away.

Eventually, after all the twists and turns the car took, they came to a stop and Rob killed the engine, saying to MJ, “Okay. Now, before you take your blindfold off, look to your right outside the passenger window. Got it?”

MJ nodded, turned her head, and then took the blindfold off seeing that Rob’s big surprise was… a house. Well, not exactly. It was certainly too big to just be called a house, but not nearly big enough to be called a mansion. Two storeys, white exterior, lush lawns, multiple luxury cars parked in the long, straight driveway. She figured that they were in whatever passed as the ritzy part of Port Reyes and the surrounding county, but couldn’t figure out just why this was Rob’s surprise.

When she turned back to look at him, he wore a sort of forlorn, hound dog expression, his face long and sad, eyes dark with guilt.

“I have to apologize to you, MJ. I haven’t been one-hundred percent honest with you.” Rob started, voice as heavy and serious as the expression he wore. “While I do own the apartment you’ve been visiting - it is ‘my place’ - it isn’t the only property I own. And, in fact, that,” he pointed to the manor, “is my main residence.”

MJ looked at the great house again, confused by Rob’s statement and this entire scheme he had created. She knew Rob didn’t have any family out here, and with the sole exception of their fling, he was entirely single, so him living in a place this large just seemed wrong. He was a bachelor living by himself in such a large place? It just didn’t add up.

“Well, I’m not upset, if you’re worried about that.” MJ replied, putting an affectionate hand on one of Rob’s thighs. “I’m just confused as to why you kept it from me. And what you’re doing all the way out here, in such a big place, all by yourself?” An impish grin quickly came to Rob’s lips.

“Well, because that’s where the surprise is. Are you ready?”

In hindsight, MJ’s confidence was rather foolish. There was nothing that could have prepared her for what waited inside.

“Whatever you got, Rob, I’m ready for it!” MJ declared, wholeheartedly.

Rob nodded at her enthusiasm before doing the gentlemanly thing, exiting the car and opening the passenger side door. Together, they walked hand-in-hand up the long walk that separated the perfectly manicured lawn from the driveway. He led her to the great, double doors, opening them with a casual ease of a man coming home. Then, with another chivalrous gesture, Rob directed MJ to enter the foyer beyond the doorway and the entranceway.

The foyer was as magnificent, grand, and airy as the exterior would suggest. A massive space that could be repurposed for almost any other room. Stepping out of the short entryway revealed a circular-shaped room that easily flowed into the numerous other rooms in the house. And that included the upper level, as a pair of mirrored, curving staircases led from the middle of the foyer to the second floor and a grand balcony. The walls were a soft yet dusky yellow-ish tone, divided in the middle with a smattering of dark green and white tiling, which only enhanced the warmth provided by the great chandelier hanging above. A few end tables were scattered about the room with vases filled with understated flowers to add a homey, elegant touch to it all.

But none of this, absolutely none of this, registered in MJ’s mind. Because sitting in the middle of the foyer was Rob Daily, despite the fact that MJ entered the house first. To her knowing, Rob still had yet to cross the threshold. But here was, reclining on an ostentatious golden throne that, on closer inspection, was a mosaic of sculpted nude women, all writhing in sexual pleasure.

And this Rob, the doppelganger, was not alone. He was surrounded by dozens of women, most of whom MJ knew by sight, because she had ran into them at the club or on Slutter! Daenerys Targaryen, imperious and gorgeous; Asami Sato, looking as smart as she was beautiful; Luz Noceda and her mother Camila; another mother-daughter pair in the Parrs, Violet and Helen. There was Tifa and Nami and Samus and Kamala, too. And Gwen Stacy, beautiful as ever, her enhanced physique proudly displayed.

Then there were stranger women that MJ did not know how to parse. One with blood red skin and covered in black tribal tattoos, naked and with piercing golden eyes, laying before Rob with the languidness of a bored predator. A woman with orange skin and some sort of… headpiece or horns, really. Another one was blue and hairless, her head topped with strange ridges. All three of these (for the lack of a better term) alien women had absolutely stunning figures, to boot

But, in prime position, sitting upon the arms of the throne were two stunningly beautiful women that radiated power, and not just merely because of the real estate they had claimed. One had long black hair and was dressed like a classic stage magician - tuxedo top and jacket with a tophat - but extenuating her body with fishnets and heels. She smiled brilliantly while MJ felt deja vu pass over her. The other held a stern gaze, thick auburn hair worn beneath a scarlet tiara. Her ensemble of corset, skirt, and jacket - all in dark red leather - struck MJ as something a superhero would wear.

Gawking at the impossible sight, it then hit MJ that - beyond the two women flanking the Rob on the throne - all of the women were either nude or wearing such skimpy, revealing clothing that they may as well have been nude. Their bodies were posed seductively, yet the mass of women before and around the throne stirred, jockeying for position, trying to be as close to Rob as possible. Touching him, Grasping him. Worshipping him. Most of the women only paid MJ a brief glance before their adoring eyes turned back to Rob.

Eventually, after staring at the bizarre tableaux forever, MJ found the wherewithal to finally speak up. “Rob…? What is this? What’s going on?” On instinct, she craned her neck around, looking behind her, and she felt herself almost jump out of her skin when Rob appeared behind her, walking in from the entryway. She quickly whipped her head around, back and forth, confirming that, somehow, there were two Rob Dailys - one beside her and one on the throne.

Both Robs grinned with a sense of superiority she had never seen him express before, but it was the one beside her that spoke, as he placed his hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades.

“I told you I used my wealth for a lot of things, but all of them are really side ventures.” He began, his voice dripping with triumph, satisfaction. He had just won a game that MJ didn’t know he was playing. “My wealth, my charm, my - how do you say it - magic dick? All of that serves one purpose.” His free hand waved to the women before him and around his other self. “My harem of beautiful and adoring sex slaves! Women our age, women older than me, women younger than me. Women from here and from far beyond here. Women of such power and beauty, and they all worship and love me - isn’t that right, girls?”

“Yes, Master! We exist solely for you! We love you more than anything else!” The collective of fawning women all spoke in chorus.

MJ’s jaw dropped, as she slowly turned to face Rob.

“Y-you… it’s you! Th-th-the everything! Barely Legal, Slutter, Daenerys, the plastic surgery, all these beautiful women - you’re the Master! You’re everyone’s Master!” MJ couldn’t believe it. But she also couldn’t believe that she didn't pierce it together earlier. All this time she had been encountering these oddities in and around Port Reyes, and Rob was the centre of them all. Rob smirked and nodded. MJ gulped. “How?”

To her surprise, Rob dropped the smugness, toned down his pride, his voice dropping to a serious tone. “I promise to tell you everything later, but if and only if… well,” he smiled again, bashful yet lecherous. “If you join them. Join my harem, MJ. I have had my eye on you for so, so, so long that I need you to be a part of it. You’ll be a crown jewel for me, just like Wanda and Zatanna.” He motioned to the two women on the arms of the throne, who both inclined their heads and offered slight smiles to MJ. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, as every harem girl was watching her, waiting for her next move. For her answer.

MJ whirled back around, only to find the Rob she was standing with was gone. There was only the Rob on the throne now, surrounded by the most beautiful, sexiest women MJ had ever seen.

Tenting his fingers, Rob Daily looked her in the eyes from across the way and asked her. “What do you have to say to that, Miss Mary Jane Watson?”

The world was spinning, so fast that MJ felt as if she would be torn from the safety of gravity and thrown into space. Her head was pounding. Her heart was pounding. The memories of the past several weeks collided with each other, exploding into dazzling fractals that only further obscured the truth. When? How? Why?

For a moment, MJ felt as if a full-blown panic attack was coming. Her body was so locked up in fear that she thought she was **** on her own breath. Then, she too made eye contact with Rob. Deep, soulful, and passionate, yet grasping, greedy, and lustful.

She closed her eyes, swallowed her fear and summoned her courage.

In Rob’s eyes, she found the answer…