The Wasp's busy night-shift

The sunrise couldn't come soon enough.

It couldn't. It wouldn't. She wouldn't let it. If the light of the morning dared grace her gaze, she'd only respond by keeping both eyes shut and cuddling harder than she'd ever cuddled before. Hell, she invested in the most expensive blackout curtains money could buy. If she chose to avoid it, the sun had no way of interfering with her desires. So she'd remain. Curled. Content. Warm. Happy. With her beautiful, little boy, her cute little brother of a boy. Eighteen in both years, and inches, the only thing that would stir her from her blissful bliss, would be the rise and shine of her cutie's morning wood.

But no matter how big the cock, she was bigger. Or smaller.

When it came to all the other heroes and their varying gimmicks and specialties, she was kinda known as the size queen. Too big, too small, both went hand in hand with her whole M.O. It's her thing. It's why, whether Jonathan noticed or not, her bedroom was, in reality, her very own boudoir. All of it. And a massive one at that. Of course, it had to be huge. Spacious. Luxurious. Who knew what size they'd be each given night? She had custom-designed every inch of this penthouse for their varying sizes in mind. It worked wonders when nights got steamy, and the heat was steamier. No matter how tall or how small, they'd find themselves each night, the rooms had to accompany them, not the other way around.

That foresight proved wonders once again, as she lay back at a staggering thirty-five feet tall, (yet still smaller than the massive bed she'd made for herself), she was effectively his bed. The actual bed had been shrunken and was long since abandoned after her cute brother had drifted off. This wasn't new for her; she's served as the human mattress a few times, but the usual dynamic she and Hank shared was that of a flipped dynamic. She can grow massive, sure. Huge? Heck yeah. But nine times out of ten, she chooses to be small. Especially in bed. Everything's just so.. giant at that size. Especially when it comes to her man's throbbing member. Her favorite place to sleep. Something she's never openly admitted (because why the hell would she?) Was in a man's pants. HER man's pants, to be clear. Cheating is something she'd never do, and loyalty is her bread and butter. She loves Hank with all her heart, and beyond, and she especially loves sleeping in his pants after a long, stressful day. Especially so. The warmth, the scent. Oh, the scent. That aura will always get her going; there's something about the musk of a man's erect meat that overpowers her logic when at the size of a pixie.

Yet with all that said... that warmth... it's never been this... warm, this comfortable, this... This real. She always likes to be the small one. Yet when snuggling with her little bro, her little lover, sleeping gently on her, using her as his personal pillow... she's never once had the desire to shrink. Sure, she'd love to sleep in his pants, the same way she would with Hank. It wouldn't be cheating; it's not with another lover, but with family. No. But the thought didn't even cross her mind. Why? If she drifted to sleep in the pants of her little boy, then where would he sleep? On some expensive pillow? It might be nice, but until she can confirm her pillows are suitable for him, until she can confirm he's content. She can't risk any drop of discomfort. She knows how bouncy, springy, and soft her boobies are; hell, when she's bored, she sometimes just enjoys bouncing them for literally no reason other than the fact she can. She knows her breasts are perfect for him, and she knows he thinks so too. The evidence she has is the little droplet of drool trickling down her left boob. He must be having the sweetest dreams. He was like a toy.

But he's not just a toy, he's a person. A human, with feelings, with emotions. And her bosom, from his perspective, is one of the world's comfiest beds. So for the entire night, she just lay there. All for him. One giant hand was carefully resting above him. She held back a giggle when he subconsosly pulled on her fingers with his entire body to adjust himself to be even more comfortable, pulling her entire arm to cover him like a blanket. Oh, she could melt. This was the cutest thing she's ever seen. She knew at this moment there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. Her own little cutie. She just HAD to introduce him to Hank. Her plate would be busy, but she'd find the time. She loved Hank and her little bro. There's room for two. One love as a lover and lifelong partner, another love as a brother and sister, a bond she'd do anything to protect. She's sure he'd understand. There's nothing wrong with a sister doing anything for her brother. It's not that she wouldn't do the same for Hank. If anyone dares to touch her husband, they have to answer to her, and if anyone thinks of doing the same to her bro, they'll find she's big enough to protect both of her men. That's just how it'll be.

That said, as Jonathan slumbered, drooling onto the vast expanse of her breast like a happy baby, Janet’s own mind refused to fully quiet. The warm, comfortable weight of him was a reality, but the reason for it, the full sequence of events that had led to this exact, beautiful moment, was a shimmering, nebulous thing she didn't feel the need to examine too closely. Rightfully so. Because if she did think about it, really set aside other thoughts to focus fully on what has happened... things might change. Her new loyalty was built by twisted strings, whether accidental or not, but that heroic instinct, the will to do the right thing, is hard to undo. There's a world where, after realizing the manipulation that has occurred, even if it hurt her beyond understanding, the right thing would prevail, and the true order of things could be restored. But the truth was twisted, in reality. It's hard to resist, something she doesn't know is happening, something she doesn't even think is happening. On a surface level, it felt right. It was right. That was the important thing. Maybe if a command entered her mind, one that said to do something that could harm Hank. Who knows, that part of her might fight tooth and nail, constantly pushing against a fundamental piece of her very being. But a command to care for, protect, and love someone who needs loving? That slips right in, it's accepted, it's who she is. The commands she has been given were perfectly designed to not only be followed but also embraced. All the right buttons were being pressed; it's a perfect fit. A fit that neither Janet nor Jonathan truly realized.

Every time she thinks about his powers, she understands one simple thing. Her headphones were never removed, he never controlled her, he couldn't have. And even if they did slip off, she trusted him, and more importantly, she trusted herself to stop anything that went too far. If she realized he had slipped in between the headphones and her ear, maybe she'd question things a lot more. She's smart enough to know he could've used that brief window to alter anything. But ignorance is a very powerful tool, in addition to her own blissful ignorance of the love she felt. It wasn't denial. No, that could be questioned; questions could lead to resistance. It's easier to focus on the 'what' than the 'how'.

The "what" was simple. She was in love. Deeply, profoundly, head-over-heels in love with this beautiful boy sleeping on her chest.

But not in love in the way she was with Hank. No, that was sacred. So she doesn't think too hard about it. Because thinking too hard about things she's certain of could lead to problems, problems lead to stress. Both her man and her boy have enough stress as is, and she didn't have any, so she wouldn't dare let them get any more. No, she had no doubts. Not about this. Not about him. This was pure. This was clean. This was exactly what her life had been missing: a new kind of love to protect, a new kind of joy to nurture. She always had thoughts and wants for a younger sibling. And now she finally had one.

Took long enough.

But one thing she did think about, something that kept her from fully sinking into a slumber with her little bro.... was the thought of what would come next. And how she'd do anything to make sure her men come out on top. Hank? He can take care of himself, and when he can't, she'll be there. But Jonathan? He needed a more hands-on approach, in more ways than one. It'll be a juggle for sure. And things will be slightly different. But it's nothing she can't handle. She has a date with Hank in a couple of weeks from now. She isn't calling that off. It was literally her idea. He needs to get out of the lab. Jonathan's existence in her life won't change those plans; it can't. Only now, before the date, she'll have to make sure he has food in the fridge, maybe order him a pizza first, make sure he has whatever entertainment he wants for the night, and maybe check in on him once or twice during the date. But the date still stands. Nothing will cut into her time with John, nothing will cut into her time with Hank, and NOTHING will cut into her future with either.

Which is exactly why she couldn't sleep.

She had work to do.

As gently as physically possible, Janet had to leave. It was somewhat of a challenge to move with a cute, tiny eighteen-year-old drooling on her breast. Yet, like with anything, she always finds a way. She shrank the rest of her body, slower than she ever had before. Her arms, her legs, her head all shrank. All while leaving her chest, and the tiny boy asleep on it, at their current size. A few minutes passed, and she knew she had to have looked absolutely ridiculous. A normal, petite-sized woman with absolutely giant tits that had a person sleeping on them. Luckily, no one was watching. Besides, all that mattered was Jonathan's comfort. She then carefully slid her back down her own bed, her breasts acting as a slide for Jonathan. She had to stifle another giggle when he rolled onto his side as he slid down, still fast asleep. He was just too adorable.

Lastly, she then shrank her breasts back to her 'normal' size (leaving them just a cup size larger than normal to see if he'd notice) and tucked him in, giving a kiss on the forehead. Leaving a clear mark of her lips after she parted. She'd give him more than a kiss on the forehead later. But for now, work had to be done. She was a businesswoman, after all. A very rich businesswoman. She needed to prepare.

Jean Gray was one of the most honest, good, loving, and caring women she knew. No matter the situation, Jean would always do the right thing when the situation called for it. She wasn't like Emma's cold and frosty approach to things, nor was she the wildcard that was the professor who would cause trouble for no reason if he believed it to be for the greater good. Even Psylocke, a telepath as powerful as she is skilled, doesn't step up to Jean when it comes to just genuine honesty. Jean was a pillar of goodness. A reliable person.

Which made her the single biggest threat to her newfound happiness.

Janet knew, knew, that this meeting today was not some simple check-up. It was a trial. And the verdict, she feared, would be guilty. Not that Jonathan had done anything wrong. She doesn't blame Jean at all; this was Natasha's doing, no doubt encouraged by Jessica and Maria, before John knew to nip that problem in the bud and turn one of the most competent grouches into an oblivious ally. Janet should be against what he did to Maria, but truth be told, she never really liked her that much. Maria was all numbers, rules, and regulations. All important things, yes, but she lacked heart. But if she was now a willing and happy participant? A woman who, like Janet, was now simply trying to do her best for a boy who needs her? Then that's just swell. The more the merrier. Maria doesn't know she's pulling strings FOR him rather than against. And the best course for her is to keep it that way. Questions lead to problems (something Janet failed to consider for herself), and the best solution for Agent Hill is to keep her from realizing she's obeying him, rather than making him obey.

But Jean...

Crap, crap. Shit. Crap.

Jean's good. Unlike Maria, Jean's a friend. And Jean always does the right thing. That's the freaking problem! Simply put, as much as Janet reassured Jonathan... Jean wouldn't see a boy trying to do good and finding his way. She'd see a boy with a dangerous power and an even more dangerous history who has an experienced hero, The Wasp, and an even more experienced agent (Maria) catering to him. Even if she didn't see mind control directly, she'd see... impropriety. The word itself made her sick. Her love, pure and clean as it was, would be seen by a woman like Jean as something to be fixed. Something to be ‘rescued’ from. Not only would it rip away the love she found, but it would also put her baby brother through absolute hell. Jean wouldn't understand. She couldn't. Her love for Hank and her love for Jonathan were different but equally pure in her mind. She didn't think too hard about it, but she was sure of it. The thought that Jean would be the one to try and 'fix' things for her little bro... That thought made her angry. But she couldn't be angry at Jean. So she channeled that anger into something she was very, very good at.

Money. Preparation. And a little bit of subterfuge.

She had to get to her lab.

Yes. It's HER Lab.

Okay, Hank is the one who is in there the most, but who pays for it? Who keeps the lights on? Who funds all of his ant-related experiments? Right. And she doesn't ask for anything in return; she does it because she loves him. But it's her lab. To compound on top of that, Hank isn't the only one with brains. If she didn't know her way around a lab, she wouldn't be one of the richest women in the world.

Her bare feet plapped and tapped against her marble floors as she glided through her penthouse, moving with a silent, swift grace she reserved for these kinds of stealthy situations. Not a single scrap of clothing touched her skin. The air, cool and crisp, was a welcome sensation against her flesh as she made her way to the private elevator hidden within the wall that led directly to the lab. A secret elevator she paid for, not that she's keeping track. She didn't even bother with a robe. Why would she? Who was here to judge? Jonathan? He'd probably just get hard, and she'd have to deal with that before she could... but...

She sighed, reached for one of the many hidden compartments in the wall, a feature she insisted on during the penthouse's construction, and pulled out a sleek, black and yellow wrist watch, tiny enough to go unnoticed beneath the gloves of her suit. With a single tap, her entire body flashed with a yellow light, and she was back in her snug, strapless black bustier-like corset with those bold yellow geometric patterns across the chest. The black latex underlayer of thick thigh-hugging leggings fitted into her signature yellow thigh-high boots. Notably, the corset cups propped up her slightly larger-than-usual breasts quite well. She made a mental note to order Jonathan his own new set of clothes. He has his own set. But she's going to make sure he's dressed nicely and comfortably from here on.

With another flash of light, her signature yellow headphones with golden antennae sat atop her short auburn hair. Had she known he had controlled her once before, if she was on the lookout, even subconsciously for something, anything amis, she might've considered the fact that she clearly didn't have those headphones on the entire time, she just now put them back on, the idea that they were never off simply countered the literal logic of this simple act.

But no questions ever formed, why question what she knows is normal and fine? Why question what she's fighting for? Her men's happiness.

No, she suited up just in case. Even with this new love, she's still The Wasp. If anything happens, she should be suited and ready. Not naked and reeking of sex. Though she currently does still excuse the musky stench of sweat, sex, and cum, she'll have to suit up or not. She'll have to make sure to shower. But that will have to happen later.

She stepped into the elevator, the doors hissing shut behind her. As the car descended, she pulled out her phone. Her fingers danced across the screen with a speed that would make a concert pianist weep. First, a secure line to the legal team at Van Dyne Industries.

"Alex," she said, voice crisp, efficient, her wings absently buzzing in the background as the elevator descended, "I need a complete, legally obtained compilation of every publicly available or declassified mutant record and ability file you can pull. Nothing gray, nothing that could ever bite us later. Organize the entire dossier by primary power classification. Physical mutation, energy projection, shapeshifting, the works. Flag and send the mental manipulation category to my private encrypted channel first: telepathy, mind control, emotional influence, memory alteration, psychic constructs, all of it. I want every relevant document you can find."

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

Only for her gut to twist.

Less than ten seconds later, she was calling him back. "Alex. Me again. Sorry for snapping like that. I'll send you a 15% payment bonus."

Again, before he could respond, she hung up, already sending him the money as the elevator doors opened to a cavernous, brightly lit laboratory. The place was a cathedral of science. Vast, sterile white surfaces gleamed under recessed lighting, while holographic displays shimmered in the air, showing molecular structures and complex schematics. Rows of advanced workstations were covered in half-finished projects, specialized tools, and the odd stray ant-sized Pym Particle dispenser.

Janet strode through the lab as if she owned it, because she did. She ignored Hank's chaotic corner, a magnificent mess of glowing vats and humming machines that looked like it might achieve sentience if left alone for too long. She was heading for her section. A workspace that was, by contrast, immaculate. Sleek, minimalist, and dominated by a central holographic interface. To be fair, she didn't use it often, but when she did, she would clean up after herself. And if she's being honest, she loved Hank's mess. So she didn't mind.

She didn't sit. She stood, her wings humming softly as she interfaced with the system. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of strategy, a flurry of contingencies laid bare. Jean wouldn't just be looking for evidence of overt control. She would go into this meeting with most definitely a smile, a handshake, and multiple signed and verbal letters of consent before she enters his mind. Jean is a contender for the most powerful telepath in the world; it's a toss-up whether she's stronger than Emma or not, but the outcome remained the same. Janet's lucky Jean was the one coming by; if the frosty bitch was in town instead, this would be over already. Emma would reach out before the meeting, scan his mind, and instantly end everything out of a lack of respect and sheer uncaring laziness. Jean can be reasoned with; Jean can understand.

But this? This will be harder to convince.

Not impossible. But hard. She had to count her blessings. They got Jean, not Frost. This is winnable.

Janet read the data about tomorrow's planned event and frowned. It was requested by Natasha and approved by Agent Hill. Unfortunately, before Hill had her unaware change in power dynamics. She didn't cancel the meeting, no doubt because that would certainly put heat on Jonathan, but she did manage to delay it. That's why it took so long. What is further upsetting is that apparently Jean is here to visit before the planned meeting; Maria delayed it, but Jean and Scott had a date planned months in advance at this part of town. They could try to delay it to the actual date, but it would look so bad on Hill, most certainly raise eyebrows. Even Natasha's. And the last person they want raising a brow in their direction is the Black Widow. It was also very unfortunate to read about the date they had planned. Janet can relate; she has her own freaking date set in stone for a few weeks from now. Scott is probably like Hank; Jean might've had to drag him away from his duties to come out here. No matter the outcome, Janet wants them to be able to have their moment.

Tapping her lips, Janet shrank down to her pixie size and fluttered down onto the table, flicking her fingers to materialize more holographic screens around her. This was a headscratcher, but as she has told everyone, her husband isn't the only genius in the relationship. Even if she's only 50% of his intelligence, he's bloody smart, which makes her half ingenious... still extremely smart; she can figure out how to let everyone win in the end.

"Oh..." She found herself muttering after a few more minutes of searching the information at hand. Nick Fury is taking an indefinite hiatus from S.H.I.E.L.D. to man the S.A.B.E.R. space station. He's been gone for a few weeks now. His departure was unannounced publicly to keep things running as usual; he put Hill in charge. That's... great news. Amazing news. Because Hill's now working for John, even if she doesn't realize it.

The soft grin that began to form on her face quickly paused as she stopped her frantic scrolling to look back, noticing a discrepancy as later on in the file the text mentioned two people, where before it had said only Hill was put in charge. That's the moment Janet noticed something she had missed. Agent Hill & Natasha Romanoff are placed as interim Co-Directors of S.H.I.E.L.D. during Fury's absence. That's somewhat of a hitch; a great bonus, but still limiting, the control John managed to obtain over Agent Hill would've also secured influence over the woman in charge of the planet's premier espionage agency. All without her ever knowing it. But now she's technically only a co-owner, which means he is only a co-owner.

Not only that, but anything Hill can do, Natasha matches. From all the tests Janet knows of, their skills almost match in nearly all aspects. If anything, Natasha surpasses in a few fields. If Hill has a partner that's just as smart as she is, even if their skill is only a fraction apart, then John still only controls half of a very big pie. A slice he's eaten, but the other half is still a very skillful, very present loose end. And truth be told, based on what he told her, Maria was only controlled by a minor, brief slip-up. Simply put. Luck. If Hill had a millisecond more of a window, she might have put her blocker back in her ear, and none of this would have happened.

They can't rely on luck twice.

Janet let out a sigh, running a hand through her short auburn hair. The stakes were higher than she initially calculated. She wasn't just protecting her newfound brother; she was navigating a potential minefield. This is all while temporarily forgetting Jean. But. Better her than him. She's the big sister.

"Focus. Back on the current problem," She muttered to herself. Hill and Natasha are nearly equals; neither is able to outsmart the other, which might be why nothing has happened yet. It might be essentially a stalemate, so Hill isn't even trying anything, while Romanoff has no reason to give her a second glance. Jean, on the other hand, could annihilate everyone on board those ships with a simple thought. Widow can be dealt with later; Jean takes priority.

As if on cue, her phone chimed. A secure message from Alex.

Subject: Mutant Registry - Mental Manipulation Category. Per your request. 12,747 files attached. Enjoy the bonus.

Janet grinned. With a flick of her fingers, she pulled up the file onto one of the projections before her. Alex was good. The best. He didn't ask questions. He didn't judge. He delivered, and he delivered well. She takes care of her employees, and this is why. She'll give him another bonus later. She tapped the file, and a tidal wave of information flooded her holographic screens. Names. Codenames. Power classifications. Incident reports. It was a digital mountain of data, and she had to climb it before the sun was fully in the sky.

She flew past the big ones, the ones everyone knew: Professor Xavier, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Psylocke. She already knew what they could do. She needed specifics. She needed loopholes. She needed a defense.

She started filtering. "Non-psionic manifestation," she murmured, her fingers flying across the interface. "Pheromonal control. Auditory hypnosis. Biological manipulation." A smaller list populated, but it was still a long one. She scanned the names, looking for anything, anything that could serve as a precedent. The X-Men go out and recruit young students all the time; many must have some form of mental manipulation that she could study and tie to her own little bro.

She scrolled and scrolled, finding a list of recruits that fell into closer matches with Jonathan...

Ethan Rhodes, Mind Control: via eye contact.

Ashley Ballard, True Voice: Makes voice absolute; all who hear it believe whatever is said to be the truth.

Adam Marcus, Memory Alteration: Alter a person's memories by erasing, editing, and creating new memories entirely.

Axel Star, Wishes Made True: Upon the word wish is uttered, magic smoke will appear and grant the wish without limits.

Steven Walker, Mutant Pheromones and... S-Semen?!: Can produce pheromones that arouse the opposite sex. And mind controlling... semen... via ingestion or touching one's skin.

Mark Williams, Subliminal Messaging: The power to control the mind through physical contact.

Ethan Rhodes... again? Dominant... Phallus...: Control via overly large genitalia, if cock is visible and recognized as larger than their own or their significant other's, they will become extremely aroused and open to suggestion.

Okay... Janet decided to stop reading at that point. That last one was completely ridiculous, a mind-controlling penis? And one with an oddly specific size use requirement. She'd be fine, right? She has Hank, who literally can make his tool as big as she wants... also, she has her little brother's dick, he's more than well hung without any size boosting tech!

But still, a lot of these seem crazy, and the X-Men's listing of them has each one with 'potentially perverted' as a character trait. Perverts with that kind of power? Oh god. Jonathan has a moral compass; she loves that about him, but these others could be dangerous. Each one of them, the X-Men somehow recruited? They must be very skilled at handling these situations and mind controllers in general. With Jean, Emma, Psylock, and the Professor, they must've been well prepared when handling those situations; it's doubtful they'd go in, make some mistake, underestimate their target, confront them blind, or otherwise fail in some way that causes the rest of the world to get sucked into chaos. Luckily, each case here was listed as mission successful, and they were recruited as intended. Because if not, and all that talk of other universes is real, there could be a whole Mind Controlling Mutant multiverse out there, where that recruitment didn't go so smoothly.

Janet rolled her eyes at the thought. That's just becoming fanfiction.

Any potential perverted, totally-not-real universe that isn't her own isn't her problem. And this list doesn't do her any favors... if anything, it only made her worry more. Jean probably oversaw half of those; she's seen a thing or two and clearly succeeded in handling past mutants. Heck, she might use this as an opportunity to recruit him to her school!? Is she the current running Headmistress? Janet doesn't even know who's in charge there. The professor is off-world and in space almost as much as Tony and the other members of the Illuminati.

With a bag of chips in one hand, the next three hours were spent with Janet going through every single listed mutant on record with anything close to mind control abilities. She even went outside of mutants and spent a good chunk of time researching the likes of Killgrave and that fucking mandrill who controls women, what's his name again? It was tiering, but her drive to keep her brother safe was the only thing keeping her up. She's spent so many nights doing this for Hank, she'll do it for Jonathan. She's gotta take care of her boys.

In the end, she came to a discovery.

"Shit." She dropped the dust-coated chip from her gloved fingers into her cleavage. Cleavage, which, at this point, had been completely coated in an orange-ish dust. She hadn't even noticed. Nor did she care. She already reeked of sweat, drool, and raw musk; what's a bit of cheese dust on her tits?

A small, glowing screen was held in her other hand, from a private video call with a small, ant-sized Hank, who was currently in another country on some mission for the Avengers. He was in a hotel room. His face looked tired, but there was a sparkle in his eye she knew all too well. He liked solving problems. Yes. Yes, she was smart; very smart. Smart enough to know to call her husband when something might be too much. She wasn't ready to tell him everything, but she would give him enough information to spark the fire of her own intelligence, and that he did.

"Shit," she repeated, this time with a grin. "Hank, my love, you absolute genius. Why didn't I think of this before?" She brought the screen closer to her face. "You're a lifesaver. You know that, right?"

Hank, who'd been patiently listening to her ramble for the past thirty minutes, chuckled softly. "I try, Jan. But what exactly did I do? It's just simple pattern recognition on the waveform data you sent. Also, you got, um.. You have things all in your..."

"The earbuds S.H.I.E.L.D.'s replicating hold a fractional sample of Jean's natural null-field." Janet leaned back against the counter, eyes narrowing as she chose her words with surgical care. Not to give anything away. No names. No specifics. Just the tech. "That the resistance isn't added on top—it's baked into the emitter lattice at the quantum level."

"Right," Hank said, rubbing his eyes. It was fortunate for her; he's so numbers-focused that he doesn't question things outside the problem at hand. "Exactly. Her mind doesn't use a shield; it is the shield. Same resonant frequency, same psionic entanglement. The hardware is basically a tiny echo of that. Clean, stable, and damn near impenetrable because it's copying the source code of her power."

Janet's mind raced ahead, pieces clicking together as she'd known they would once he pointed at the right variable. She kept her voice light, almost casual. "So if you had a power signature that matched hers one-to-one... same neural architecture, same propagation pattern... theoretically, you could invert the phase on the emitter array." Subconsciously, she knew her boobies had essentially become a mere food container as she reached a gloved hand into her cleavage and plucked out a few chips without giving it much thought, plopping them into her mouth.

Hank's tiny eyebrows lifted, impressed by how quickly she caught on without him having to explain it. Though he did notice one thing he had to correct, "Invert it? Yes. But that would be somewhat of an understatement. You'd turn the protective broadcast into a carrier wave. Instead of nullifying intrusion, it would ride the exact same resonance and push a command straight through. Like slipping a key into a lock that was built from the same blueprint."

She let out a low whistle, half thrilled, half sick. God, that's it. The exact reversal she'd been circling for twenty minutes. The earbuds weren't just protection... but instead more a back door waiting to be flipped. "Exactly," she cut in smoothly, not letting a single real detail slip. "Wow, I was so deep in the resistance side of it, and how other telepaths work.. I totally missed the phase-flip symmetry on the biggest name of them all!"

Hank gave her that proud little smirk, the one that always made her heart do a stupid flip. "See? You're still the smartest person I know. You didn't even need me."

Janet laughed softly, already wiping orange dust off the screen with the back of her glove. "Flatterer. Now get some sleep before you shrink yourself into a jet-lag coma. Or I'll come by and sting you to sleep! Little doofus!"

She blew him a quick kiss and ended the call before he could ask anything else. He would've probably taken her up on that offer and asked her to use the priority jet. And hell, she loved the man so much she might've actually done it. She could get there, come back, and still work on this problem... maybe, but time is tight, and they still have their date later anyway. This is too time sensitive for some late light fondling.

Now all she needed was a pair of those earbuds... the same technology is in her headphones, but she might not want to dismantle those. She trusts Jonathan, she really does, but sometimes the big sister needs to be strict. Even if it's for the little brother's own good. And it's hard to tell her brother, “No, you can't eat yourself to ****, no matter how good the cookies are,” if that brother can mind control her into giving him all the cookies in the world. Even if she trusts him, which she totally does. She can't risk him using his power to stop her from doing something, especially if that thing is for his own good, and he doesn't realize it yet.

The headphones stay on. Just like they've always had. If he ever did get a chance to get commands through, she'd have more to think about, but she'd notice if that ever happened.

The only other way to get a set of these buds for her reverse engendering would be...

S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.

Welp. Shit. She needed to go there for something else anyway.

With a flutter of her wings, Janet zoomed over to the elevator before growing back to her full height. With a sigh, she hit the button to send her up, and wordlessly noticed her own reflection in the mirrored doors as they closed. Her hair was a mess, a frizzy halo from the night's exertions. The faint, pungent aroma of sweat and sex still clung to her, a musky counterpoint to the sterile lab air. Her corset was fine, her leggings were fine, her boots were fine. But her tits were coated in a fine layer of bright orange Cheeto dust. "What the heck?" She muttered, genuinely surprised to pull out multiple chips from her cleavage. "I need a shower," She said to her reflection with a shrug, then did a quick, cute pose, jutting out her hip and winking, while crossing both arms over her chest to squish her boobs together. God, she loves how hot she is.

A quick shower later, with a change of clothes, and a fresh application of makeup. She had to look like Janet Van Dyne, CEO and Avenger. Not a woman who spent the last ten hours plotting against one of her friends to protect her mind-controlling brother.

She emerged from the penthouse's grand bathroom feeling almost human again, adorned in The Wasp suit once more. Her mind, however, was already miles away, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the Helicarrier. She had a plan. A few, actually. And they all started with a trip to S.H.I.E.L.D.

But first.

Jonathan was still sleeping, the cute little bastard. She tiptoed into her bedroom, a soft smile gracing her lips. He was curled up now, a small lump under the covers, the faint imprint of her lipstick still on his forehead. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "Hey, sleepyhead," she whispered. "I'm heading out for a bit. There's food in the fridge, pizza is on speed dial, my number is on the fridge. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Okay? Be good. I love you."

She wasn't sure if he heard her or not. It didn't matter. Nor if she’d be back in time. This was only a precaution in case she ends up being out after he wakes up. She left a note on the bedside table, just in case. She didn't just come here for him, though; she needed something else, something very important. His phone rested on her nightstand. And with a flick of a pim-particle disc, it was shrunken and placed neatly within the dark line of her cleavage. Then, with a final, lingering look, she was about to leave. But she couldn't help herself. Without thinking, she shrank to the size of a doll and flew over to the bed. She hovered just above her sleeping brother, her wings a blur of yellow. Her course changed and zipped down to his cock, flaccid yet still imposing. The tiny woman gave it a poke and giggled as even in his sleeping state, the member twitched. She then flew to the tip, gave it a tiny peck on the head, even took a moment to rub her pussy through the tight spandex over its massive girth; then turned to mash her tiny-sized boobs against it. She really wanted to have more fun with that rod, but... instead, she fluttered back, "See you later, big guy." She then shot back up to the top of his head and gave a real kiss on the forehead before zipping out of the room. She had work to do.

A few minutes later, she was there.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion was a sight to behold. A behemoth of steel and innovation, so large it was cutting through the clouds with an audacity that defied gravity itself. To Janet, it was just another office building, albeit one with a much better view and a much higher chance of getting shot, especially knowing that the invisible Helicarrier, which most certainly was both camouflaged and looming above. She had arrived via a sleek Van Dyne Industries VTOL, docking at one of the private bays reserved for Avengers and high-level affiliates. She was buzzed through with minimal fuss, her credentials granting her access to levels that would make most spies weep with envy. She was a big shot. And she knew it. That's why this was going so swimmingly. But this wasn't where the problem would lie. No, that came with the new co-head of Shield.

As she approached the colossal steel fortress, Melinda May stepped out from the shadows of the landing deck to greet her. The veteran agent wore a crisp black tactical uniform, the reinforced fabric fitting snugly over her lean, athletic build in a strictly professional manner. The high zipper of her jacket sat all the way up, revealing only the smallest, barely noticeable hint of cleavage at the hollow of her throat. Her long dark hair fell in loose waves, and her sharp, dark eyes met Janet’s with cool, unflinching professionalism.

“Ms. Van Dyne,” May said, her voice low and steady, “Agent Hill is expecting you. This way, please.”

She turned with precise efficiency and led the way through the heavy reinforced doors into the main command atrium. The vast room was bathed in dramatic red and cyan lighting that cast long, moody shadows across sleek black consoles, floating holographic displays, and reinforced observation windows overlooking the dark water far below. The air hummed with the low thrum of advanced technology.

"Oh," Janet blinked, "Sure." She smirked; she could get this out of the way early.

Inside, Janet caught brief glimpses of familiar faces, Daisy Johnson leaning over a console with her headphones half on, Bobbi Morse coordinating a drone feed with sharp efficiency, and Jemma Simmons gesturing animatedly at a glowing bio-scan readout while speaking quickly to Mack. None of them looked up as May guided her straight past the central hub toward the secure corridor leading to Agent Hill’s private office. Janet herself failed to notice the slight suspicious glint that flickered over May's gaze as she pressed the side panel and stepped aside as the large double doors hissed open.