The Photos Are Deepfakes

Sue Storm frowned at the obscene photos. Her face was clearly discernable as her own—but the body wasn't. The breasts were clearly fake, the hips too wide, there was a tattoo of some Elvish script around the pierced navel—and the half-naked woman's lips curled in a frown as she realized it for what it was: a deepfake. Someone had mapped the Invisible Woman's face onto that of some pornstar. Sue shook her head distastefully as she pulled her shirt on, and tapped a reply to Janet Van Dyne.

SSR: It's not me. Deepfake. I don't have breast implants or that tattoo.

JVD: LOL. Maybe you should wear your old costume, just to remind people of that last bit. Not that anyone would believe the saintly Sue Storm would be caught dead spreading her pussy lips for the camera!

The blonde blinked. Her frown deepened. She knew that Jan tended to be more open about sex than most of the other heroines—well, except for Tigra and She-Hulk. Frankly, all three seemed to revel in their sexual freedom in a way that Sue admired but had never desired to emulate. After all, she was a wife and mother. The only time she had been "single" since she had graduated university was the brief period of time when Reed had been considered dead, and she had been in mourning then...

...and, the Invisible Woman remembered, that was when she had taken to wearing her new costume more often. The one that had bared more of her midriff and cleavage, showed off her toned and tight body. All those countless hours at the gym, why not show off her assets? Reed had been appalled, but once he was gone, Sue had...well, she had liked the sense of power it had given her. The confidence it exuded in her body. The way it put men off their game, not sure where to look. For all that her main power was to turn invisible, she had needed that extra bit of visibility when she had taken leadership.

Sue chewed that thought...and came to a decision.

She pulled her shirt back off, and tossed it and the bra on the bed.

SSR: Maybe I will wear the old outfit. But more importantly, I want to take this down.

JVD: It's on the internet, babe. We all have deepfake porn out there. Nothing we can really do about it. But look on the bright side.

SSR: ???

JVD: If you did ever release a sex tape, you could just claim it's a deepfake!

SSR: You're so bad.

Susan barely registered what Janet had said. Her gaze kept going back to those deepfake pictures. There was something about that woman, that figure, that drew her eye. Maybe it was the way the face reflected her own. The crudity of the position as she lay there, legs spread, fingers drawing her cum-spattered pussy apart.

The uniform came off. Sue used a forcefield to lift a box from the top and back of her closet. One which contained a much skimpier outfit. Thigh-high heeled boots. A one-piece that hugged her hips, and required a thong panty to avoid showing lines. She'd had to make a special sports bra to accommodate her 4-shaped cleavage window, something that wouldn't show in the almost skin-tight unstable molecule fabric.

When she was done, Susan Storm stared into the mirror and admired how well it fit, even after all these years. Her hands brushed the bared midriff, taut and toned despite her second pregnancy. Really, the only thing different were her breasts, which were still a bit bigger, even though she'd weaned Valeria off of her breasts years ago. Men never truly appreciated what women's bodies went through.

The door opened. Reed came in, a labcoat over his standard blue uniform, eyes fixed on a tablet screen, a cup of coffee in his hand.