The Wasp Solicits Porkum Directly

When the call came, Janet van Dyne answered.

The same booth. The same bar. Yet Janet van Dyne was no longer trying to look innocuous. The dress she wore ended mid-thigh. The high-heeled boots reached up almost to the hemline. A wonderbra did what it could to accent her cleavage, and the purple lipstick was pristine. No panties. No condoms in her purse. The toy in her ass would have been too big two weeks ago, now it simply felt snug. She watched for her contact, and her freshly-shaved pussy squeezed tight when she saw the bulk of him, draped in a custom trench coat, hat drawn low but not hiding the pig-like snout that poked out beneath his sunglasses.

She watched him squeeze into the booth opposite of her. Her gloved fingers laced together. He leered at her, and Janet leaned forward to show off her cleavage.

"I got a hot one for you," he said, one hand in his pocket.

"Let me stop you there," Janet said. "I'm not interested in another recording. I'm interested in something else."

Porkum's eyebrows rose.

"Huh?" he said.

"Your cock in my ass," Jan said. "I want you to fuck my with that magnificent fucking manmeat. I want you to make me squeal like that blonde slut. Turn me inside out. Make me your bitch."

The Wasp trembled as the words came out with an intensity she could hardly belief. Her sexual obsession with Porkum had been growing out of control. When she had rehearsed this meeting in her mind, Jan had planned to be seductive, alluring, irresistible. Now she simply felt ****, needy.

One pink hand reached up and scratched at his chin. Porkum let his sunglasses slide down his snout. He grinned.

"I dunno," he said. "I don't know if you really want it."

Janet stood, gripping the side of the table with a white-knuckle grip.

"What do I have to do to prove it?" she asked, as she stared into his eyes. This close, she could smell him. The slightly spicy reek of an animal, a masculine musk like her ex-husband's underwear after fermenting in the hamper for a week. There were only a few people in the bar, most of whom were trying not to pay attention to the scene. Porkum seemed to settle deeper into his seat.

"Crawl under the table and suck me off like a good slut," Porkum said. His dark eyes seemed to glitter like black gems in the depths of a cave. "And if you do a good job, I'll fuck your ass like I fuck hers."

The Wasp froze. She was a heroine. She was rich. Beautiful. At this moment, she could make a phone call, and within an hour six male porn stars could be offering their cocks for her holes. Or she could be in Avengers Tower, taking a length of her choice of superhuman shafts in her mouth, pussy, and ass all at once. With a few Pym particles, even the smallest of them could meet her size-queen needs.

That is why, as the Avenger lowered herself onto her knees under the table, Janet van Dyne knew something was wrong with her. Porkum's knees were spread wide, his trench coat open, and his naked cock dangled so that the nasty, stretched foreskin lay on the floor. Janet had to pick a cigarette butt out of the filthy foreskin before she raised the hot, soft snake up to her lips. She peeled the foreskin back and her nose rankled as she caught sight and smell of the clotted dickcheese that had been caught in the folds.

Yet nothing stopped her from opening her mouth as wide as she could and pressing that nasty dickmeat into her gaping cockhole. Her head bumped against the bottom of the table as she tried to feed more of the strangely pliable porcine prick into her mouth, slobbering and sucking like a two-dollar whore instead of a multi-millionaire fashion mogul. Porkum grinned as he felt the familiar sensation of a superheroine sucking desperately on his dick.

His plans for the evening had just shifted.