The New Mutants, Captive [pt. I]

Then. The Royal Palace. Golden Tribe District. Birnan Zana.

Hisako sat on the edge of her bed, feeling the velvet of the bedspread beneath her fingers as she glanced around the room. The ballroom was as grand and imposing as ever, the high ceilings and elaborate decorations making it feel like some twisted fairytale. The students were scattered about, some trying to relax, others clearly on edge. The few SHIELD agents, a suspicious group huddled in black off to one side. The unsettling feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage was as suffocating as ever.

Hisako’s thoughts drifted back to the day they had first woken up in the palace, the memory replaying itself in her mind with vivid clarity. It had been one of the most surreal and confusing moments of her life, a mix of fear, disbelief, and an undercurrent of emotions she hadn’t expected.

They had been **** after the attack on the Xavier Institute, the sudden invasion by the Wakandans and the betrayal of Nightcrawler leaving them stunned and defeated. When Hisako had opened her eyes, she had found herself in a vast, opulent chamber filled with luxurious beds and draped in rich silks. The ceiling was adorned with intricate designs, and the walls were lined with ornate pillars. For a brief, disorienting moment, she had thought it was all a dream, but the reality quickly set in.

The first thing she noticed was that they weren’t alone. Around her, other students were waking up, groggy and confused, their expressions mirroring her own bewilderment. Among them were the X-Men—Wolverine, Jubilee, Rogue, Gambit, Colossus, Magma, Iceman, and Beast—along with some SHIELD agents, including Maria Hill and Quake. Relief had surged through her at the sight of them, a brief hope that they might still have a chance to fight back, to escape.

But that hope had been short-lived as eventually they'd been taken out of the room.

Hisako had watched them go, her heart pounding with anxiety. She had exchanged worried glances with Pixie and Magik, who were both equally uneasy. The students had been left behind with the handful of remaining SHIELD agents.

When the X-Men and two senior SHIELD agents had returned about two hours later, Hisako’s breath had caught in her throat at the sight of them. Gone were their iconic uniforms and tactical gear; instead, they were dressed—or rather, barely dressed—in brightly colored G-strings that left little to the imagination. The women’s breasts were completely bare, their skin smooth and gleaming as if freshly bathed and oiled. There wasn’t a single hair on their bodies, save for the hair on their heads. Hisako couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in Wolverine’s appearance; his body had been left untouched, his usual covering of thick, dark hair still present. But even he was reduced to wearing just a yellow and black pouch that struggled to contain the sheer size of what it was meant to conceal.

Hisako had felt her face flush with embarrassment and something else she wasn’t entirely comfortable admitting. Despite the danger of the situation, she couldn’t stop herself from stealing glances at Wolverine. The way his muscles flexed beneath his skin, the glimpses of the thick shaft and cockhead that the pouch couldn’t quite hide —it all sent her heart racing. She had tried to look away, to focus on anything else, but her eyes kept being drawn back, a mix of shame and fascination swirling inside her.

The others hadn’t been immune to the sight either. Rogue’s wide hips and enormous breasts jiggled slightly with each step, her bright green thong barely covering her groin. Jubilee’s petite frame seemed almost fragile in the skimpy pink and yellow strip of fabric she was given, her normally bubbly personality subdued by the humiliation of their situation. Even Colossus, whose steel body should have made him seem invulnerable, had a certain vulnerability about him as he stood there in a tiny red thong, his massive physique contrasting with the delicate material holding him in.

Beast’s blue fur was the only thing covering him, aside from a tight yellow thong that highlighted his powerful, muscular frame. Maria Hill and Quake, though trained agents and accustomed to high-pressure situations, were clearly uncomfortable, their faces flushed as they tried to maintain some semblance of professionalism despite their near-nakedness.

Hisako had struggled to keep her composure as the group stood before them, the room heavy with unspoken tension. The situation was made even more surreal when Nightcrawler suddenly appeared in a puff of brimstone-scented smoke, completely nude. His demonic blue skin was on full display, his lithe, muscular body highlighted by the palace’s soft lighting. But it was his large, equine-like cock that had drawn the most attention, its blue sheath swinging heavily between his legs as he strode forward, his tail flicking behind him.

Nightcrawler had welcomed them with a wide, unsettling grin, his voice filled with an eerie enthusiasm. He spoke at length about the greatness of Markanda and how King Mark had created a paradise for mutants, a place where they could thrive and be free from the oppression of the outside world. His words were full of reverence for this new kingdom, but there was a dissonance in his tone that made Hisako’s skin crawl. The Nightcrawler she had known—kind, gentle, and devout—was gone, replaced by this fanatical zealot who had betrayed them all.

When someone had accused him of being the one who had teleported Professor X into enemy hands, Nightcrawler had not denied it. Instead, he had simply shrugged, as if it were a minor detail. The students had been outraged, some of them shouting and demanding answers, but Nightcrawler remained calm, almost dismissive, before teleporting away once more, his long, thick cock swinging with the motion.

After that, the X-Men and SHIELD agents had been taken away again, this time for an audience with King Mark. Hisako remembered the feeling of helplessness that had washed over her as she watched them go, knowing that they were being led deeper into the heart of this twisted kingdom. The students had been left alone, bewildered and afraid, with only the remaining agents, the Wakandan maids and the ever-present Royal Guards for company.

Since then, the students had been trying to make sense of their situation, to figure out how they could possibly escape or fight back. But the odds seemed insurmountable, especially with the knowledge that powerful telepaths like Jean Grey, Emma Frost, and Betsy Braddock were now loyal to Mark. Before he'd been taken away Beast had explained that the telepaths were likely in their heads even now, influencing their thoughts and feelings, making it harder for them to resist the lure of this strange place.

Hisako scanned the room, her thoughts churning as she tried to make sense of the surreal environment she found herself in. The lavish ballroom, the near-naked maids, the ever-present sense of danger—it was all so overwhelming. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that sitting around in confusion wouldn’t help them escape. They needed information, and the best way to get it was to talk to the people who seemed to know the most—the Wakandan maids.

Her eyes landed on one particular maid, who stood out not only for her resemblance to a gothic doll but also for the quiet intensity in her demeanor. The maid’s long, dark braids framed her face, which was adorned with white tattoos that gave her the unsettling appearance of an inverted skull. Her body was barely covered, with a black half-cup bra that left her small breasts mostly exposed and a G-string adorned with tiny panther skulls along her hips. The material barely covered her intimate area, leaving her smooth mons pubis in full view.

Hisako approached the maid, her steps cautious but determined. As she drew closer, the maid turned her gaze toward her, dark eyes cool and assessing. There was something almost predatory in the way the girl looked at her, a subtle calculation that made Hisako’s pulse quicken.

“Hello,” Hisako began, trying to keep her voice steady. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about this place… and about King Mark.”

The maid’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “I’d be delighted to,” she replied, her tone soft and measured, almost as if she were savoring each word. “But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wensanga.”

Hisako nodded, noting the strange way Wensanga spoke, as if she were constantly balancing on the edge of a dark joke. “I’m—” she started, but Wensanga interrupted her.

“Hisako,” Wensanga said smoothly, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “I know who you are. We’ve all taken the time to familiarize ourselves with the names of those we are privileged to serve. Especially someone as special as you.”

There was something in Wensanga’s tone—an undercurrent of reverence mixed with something else, something more calculating. It set Hisako on edge, but she **** herself to stay calm, to keep the conversation going. She needed answers.

“I was hoping you could tell me a little more about King Mark,” Hisako said, choosing her words carefully. “What kind of ruler is he?”

Wensanga’s smile widened ever so slightly, and there was a flicker of something almost predatory in her eyes. “King Mark is… extraordinary,” she began, her voice soft but with a certain fervor that made Hisako’s skin crawl. “He is everything a ruler should be—strong, wise, and infinitely generous. His power is unmatched, and his body is… well, let’s just say he embodies perfection.”

Hisako felt a knot form in her stomach at the way Wensanga spoke about Mark. There was a worshipful tone to her words, but it was laced with something more—a kind of devotion that went beyond admiration and bordered on obsession.

“Right,” Hisako said slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “But… he hasn’t been king for very long, has he? I mean, he only took over recently, right?”

Wensanga’s expression didn’t falter, but her eyes seemed to darken slightly. “King Mark has been our ruler for as long as I can remember,” she replied, her voice still calm but with an edge of finality. “His reign is the natural order of things, just as his father ruled before him. It is a legacy, one that is passed down from generation to generation. The King’s… attributes are celebrated, as they should be.”

Hisako frowned, her mind racing. She knew for a fact that Mark had only taken over Wakanda in the past month, yet Wensanga spoke as if he had always been king. The thoroughness of the brainwashing was terrifying. If she didn’t know better, she might have believed Wensanga’s words as easily as the maid seemed to believe them herself.

“And what about the Black Panthers?” Hisako asked, trying to probe deeper. “I thought they were supposed to be the rulers of Wakanda.”

The maid cocked her head precisely, "Wa-kanda. I don't know a nation by that name. But if you mean Mar-kanda..." Wensanga’s faint smile turned slightly condescending, as if Hisako had said something childish. “The Black Panthers are nothing more than royal pets,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They serve as assassins and bodyguards, yes, but they are also pleasure-slaves, loyal to the King. The idea of them being rulers is… quaint, to say the least.”

Hisako felt a shiver run down her spine. Everything about this place was wrong, twisted into something unrecognizable. Wakanda had been one of the world's most stable and technologically advanced nations; now it seemed like a sick parody of its former self, ruled by a madman who twisted reality to suit his own delusions.

Wensanga noticed her unease and stepped closer, her voice low and intimate. "There's no need to be afraid," she said softly. "You're among friends here, Hisako. We want you to feel comfortable and safe. You are guests of honor, and we will treat you as such."

“You seem troubled. And that’s understandable, given everything that has happened. But you should know that in Markanda, mutants are revered. Humans like myself exist to serve you, to ensure your comfort and well-being.”

Hisako nodded slowly even as she took a quick step back, wierded out by the girl's intensity, still trying to wrap her mind around everything. “I appreciate that, but… this situation is just a lot to process. Um.... about Mark Williams?"

Wensanga’s tone grew more intimate, almost coaxing. “One of King Mark’s most remarkable gifts is his ability to impregnate the women of Markanda with fine mutant offspring. It is an honor for us, a privilege to be chosen. Our King is virile, powerful, and incredibly generous in that regard. His perfect mammoth white cock is worshipped and venerated by all who lay eyes upon it. His mutant seed is precious beyond measure and worth any price. With it, he has sired hundreds of powerful mutants! Every Markandan family that has the pleasure of servicing his cock eagerly awaits the day they can conceive and birth mutant children into this world."

Her voice dropped to a low purr as she continued. "He is truly blessed, not only in his abilities but in his appearance. His body is sculpted in the likeness of Enzi himself, the First Mutant—every inch of him is pure muscle, hard and unyielding. His eyes are golden, filled with a fire that burns like the sun. He is truly magnificent, Hisako."

Hisako struggled to keep her expression neutral, the casualness with which Wensanga spoke about such personal matters unsettling her deeply. But before she could respond, Wensanga made a statement that left her momentarily speechless.

“I would like to provide you orgasms.”

Hisako’s eyes widened, her voice caught in her throat. “What…?”

Wensanga’s expression remained calm, almost serene, as if she were offering a simple favor. "I see how tense and anxious you are," she murmured. "You need release, Hisako. It will help you relax."

Hisako stammered for a moment before finding her words. "N-no," she protested weakly. "That's not necessary, really. I'm fine."

Wensanga's smile grew slightly wider, and there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You may say that, but you are mutant, the lusts of your blessed kind are strong and persistent."

"I—" Hisako hesitated, unsure how to respond.

"Please," Wensanga murmured, her voice low and intimate. "It would be my pleasure."

"No, thank you!" she managed to loudly declare.

The maid's gaze was lidded, looking entirely unfazed by Hisako's refusal. "As you wish," she said simply, her tone as polite as ever. "But do not hesitate to seek me out should you change your mind. I am here to serve you, Hisako, in any way that you need."

Before Hisako could say anything, Wensanga turned away, her hips swaying with each precise step. The g-string she wore vanished between her buttocks, leaving the entirety of her tight little black behind on display. The sight was both mesmerizing and disturbing, a visual reminder of just how bizarre and twisted their situation had become.

As Wensanga walked away, Hisako’s thoughts raced. The maid’s casual mention of Mark’s lineage, the dismissal of the Black Panthers as nothing more than pets, and the shocking offer of a sexual release all left Hisako reeling. She tried to process everything she had heard, but she found it difficult to focus amid the swirl of emotions and concerns swirling in her mind.

All around her, the other students and SHIELD agents were adjusting to their new reality as well. Some were attempting to relax, while others were clearly on edge. Hisako knew they had to find a way out of this nightmare, but she wasn’t sure where to begin. Her conversation with Wensanga had only deepened her sense of unease, leaving her more confused than ever.