The White Queen and Nightcrawler

"We need to act fast. This will be our best chance to take Emma and Kurt."

"Yes, yes! We can use Betsy. Their mission is to back her up and extract her. We can work with that. Restart our pursuit, lift the jamming, and have her call for teleport."

Scott and Jean spoke as Mark was ushered into a deserted cafe by Nima and Anzara, a pair of his Royal Guard sweeping through the building ahead of them, checking for threats, their energy-casting vibranium spears held aloft as they moved.

He had Psylocke's busty barely clothed body against his, one of his hands groping her wide heart-shaped ass, as he moved through the room and collapsed on a couch beneath the wall of a window that ran across the front of the cafe.

Psylocke leaned into him, one hand stroking his chest as her thick hip pressed into his, "How can I serve you, master? Please let me fuck you! It'll be so good, I promise you!" She leaned in for a kiss, her big boobs squashing out against his chest.

He may have gone overboard with the subliminals... Have to watch that in the future and dial it back in Psylocke once things calmed down. Though locking down his control on powerful telepaths first thing probably was a good idea in general.

He laid his hand upon her big meaty butt, sinking his digits into her smooth warm yielding flesh as he told her, "Why don't you suck me off then?"

It was absurd to demand to be blown after ejaculating something like twenty times in the last hour thanks to Shuri's enhancements, but he found that he couldn't really resist his worst impulses. At least now when he didn't have to.

Scott crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against one wall, "Right now, we are inside their OODA loop. If we act quickly and decisively, not only can we convert Kurt and Emma, but we will have the best chance of defeating and converting the rest of the X-Men.".

Jean took a seat beside Mark, watching Betsy take his large member into her hands and work it back and forth with open relish, before she looked back to her husband, suddenly all business, "You're right, Scott. I think Betsy's infiltration makes the choice for us. We need to hit the Mansion as soon as possible and if we take the Blackbird, we can use that to put the X-Men on the back-foot, when we-"

Mark tensed as the door burst open and Ororo hovered in on a gust of wind, electricity bounding down her body and arcing from her open palms, her whole eyes a milky stormy white, "Those in need have been saved, delivered into the hands of the first-responders..."

Jean had psychically located those in distress from the building collapsed from their destructive battle with Psylocke and Storm had volunteered to rescue them, her weather-based mutant powers uniquely suited to the task.

Mark held Psylocke's vividly purple hair lightly while she bobbed up and down on his cock. He was thick, and soon very slick as her mouth dribbled. She sucked back her saliva and he grunted happily as the suction doubled.

Ororo joined in the conversation, coming around to sit on Mark's other side and delivering a pert kiss to his cheek. She rubbed his bare chest with her hand, stroking his nipple with the pad of her thumb as she offered her own opinion on what to do. She was very much a proponent of taking the mansion and converting the both the X-Men and the entire population of students as slaves. "...we must move now. Now is the time to strike! Betsy's reconnaissance showed them the Royal Celebration, seen from the outside, they must think Mark focused inward, captivated with using his power for self-indulgence. They will not expect a direct strike on the mansion at this time!"

Mark wasn't giving their discussion his full attention as he enjoyed and explored his newest catch. They were doing exactly what they were supposed to. They were his brain trust. In point of fact, he trusted their brains implicitly. Not only had they nothing but his best interests at heart, but they were the subject matter experts on dealing with this sort of thing. He'd gotten this far only by letting them do the vast majority of the planning and organizing and coming up with ideas. Hell, it had been Ororo's idea to take over Wakanda! They were smarter than him and vastly more experienced in basically every way. He'd be a complete idiot not to make use of them in this way, to presume to override their instincts in some misguided belief in his own superiority.

Jean spoke up, touching her temple and casting the command without bothering to wait for him to give the go ahead, knowing his mind enough to know that he would agree ahead of time, "I've activated the Strike-Team. They'll move on the Institute. If we take Emma and the Blackbird, we can send them in ahead. The Markandans will attack right after they arrive, distracting the professor and the rest from the true threat..."

"Now, let me get everything from this one real quick..."

Jean laid her hand atop Psylocke's bobbing head, her fingertips splayed across the Asian's forehead, "Open your mind to me, Betsy."

Dawal sat at the large table in the ready room reviewing the mission profiles in his HUD. Around him the rest of his team of Royal Guard spent their time as they desired, their only task to stand-by and be ready to move when the higher-ups decided it was time to strike.

Half the crew were fully occupied by W'Kami and Kosuh's Awari game, either crowding in close to offer advice or praise and jeer certain moves or doing so through the feeds from the two players' neural-laces as they lounged upon the lush furniture of around the room. A few were taking naps, Mjezzak and User were perfecting their physical forms in the small adjacent gymnasium, and a full squad were torturing themselves by watching footage on the net of the king having sex.

Dawal shook his head ruefully. That was a not-so-subtle protest of his prohibition on watching the Royal Celebration. He didn't care. He was the ****-Captain. And they were the ****-soldiers, standing ready to leap into action the very moment their king commanded and there was no way that would be possible if they were watching King Mark fuck live. Not to mention it would only exacerbate the resentment they felt towards the hundred or so Royal Guard who'd been selected to attend. The fact that the majority of those so honored had no previous experience as warriors galled those that did. All of which were right here in the Ready Room.

X-Institute, Baxter Building, Avengers compound, SHIELD, or Genosha.

He had mission profiles for all of them and the necessary birds to deliver his team to the targets stood ready on the tarmac just outside. His boys had a running bet going on to which. Genosha was the vastly preferred option, though that outcome was more about feelings of vengeance than logical deliberation. Dawal's own money was on SHIELD, the organization that seemed to have moved the most towards standing in opposition to Markanda lately.

It didn't worry him that so many were counting themselves as enemies all of a sudden. Save for those few whose tech was boosted by super-powered intellects or by time-travelers, no outsiders could hope to resist the might of Markanda.

Still, it was more than a bit difficult to concentrate when the feed he had running in the bottom left corner of his vision showed the King-watchers' view and he saw himself plunging into the backside of Juliette, the king's white-skinned foreign harem-girl as she felated the king alongside four other members of his harem, a similar number of his fellow Royal Guard humping their offered well-curved bottoms.

Dawal shifted in his seat the vibranium nanites forming a cage around his large cock, forcing it into a downward curve and locking it behind his scrotum, kept him from growing erect. It was frustrating and mildly painful, but that was such a small price to pay. His large dick was a royal gift and naturally it could only be used in the King's service. Still, he couldn't wait to perform for his King, to entertain and arouse him with his sexual displays or stretch and lube a pussy for that huge royal cock.

Abruptly, his HUD lit up with red symbols flashing across his vision and he was up on his feet in an instant, the motion replicated across the room as the entire team received the same message.

It was time and the mission was... the X-Institute!

Everyone scrambled to the nearby armory, running into each other in their haste to be the first to the aircraft. He barked out commands even as he suited up, ensuring everyone was properly equipped.

An incoming communication blinked golden in his vision and it didn't wait for his acceptance, an image of the blue-skinned red-haired Queen bursting into his vision and drawing him up short as he did his best to give her his full attention.

"**** commander, the mission is on." Queen Mystique's voice was harsh and clipped, "Get to the transports and wait for me. My ETA is twenty minutes. Bring a pair of handguns and a sniper rifle for me."

"Yes, your majesty!" He said with as much enthusiasm and obsequiousness he could muster. Thinking quickly he realized why she sounded irritated. The junior queen had spent a lot of time with their Guard team and he believed she had something to prove. Naturally, she was competing with the King's first Queens Marvel and Storm. That she was stuck in the stadium doing her own duty representing as junior queen was no fault of her own.

"Are you taking the hyperloop? If you stay in place, we could come pick you up, your majesty."

"Such a useful minion!" Her golden eyes lit, a pleased tenor entering her voice,
"Very well, ****-commander. I will await your arrival on the field. Such initiative deserves reward. Expect to be called to provide your lubricant the next time I lie with my husband."

Dawal was happy to hear that, feeling aroused, the blood rushing into his groin but the hard vibranium was unforgiving.

Emma Frost felt the tension like a knife as she drummed her fingers on the back of Kurt’s chair, her high heels tapped upon the Blackbird’s floor.  Resisting the impulse to use her powers was like ants racing down her spine, crawling around in her head.  

Pressing a fist to her temple she declared with feeling, “Two minutes.  If we haven’t heard anything in two minutes, I’m opening up, going full bore…”

Kurt kept up his display of nonchalance as he lounged in the pilot’s seat, one mutated foot up on the console, “Have faith, Fraulein!  Betsy is a master of stealth and-”

Emma scoffed and cast her hand at the radio that was continually blaring the voices of Psylocke’s Wakandan pursuers, “Stealth?! Really?”

She felt his spade-tipped tail curl around the seat to pat her back in an attempt to sooth, even as he carried on like she hadn’t interrupted, “-and resourcefulness in the face of adversity.  Besides did not the Professor command us to break contact should our infiltration be discovered?”

Emma rounded on him, grasping his arm-rest and bending down, giving the blue demon a full eye-full of her big girls.  “Are you seriously going to leave Betsy to be mind-**** and then ****-**** by this bastard because of… orders?” 

Kurt gazed out the cockpit window at the jungle beyond, speaking softly, "Logic says we should, with the forces arrayed against us and we so few and far from our friends... but..." he grinned at her, mouth full of shiny sharp teeth. "We're obviously not going to do that, Fraulein."

She straightened and glared at the radio, "Good. Just so long as we are on the same page."

"Oh we are at that. All I am saying is that we should give Betsy more time. They are still in pursuit. They haven't captured her yet. Drawing our dear Jean's psionic attentions is one thing, but I'd also rather not have to deal with the whole brain-washed Wakandan airforce! If we just wait, our teleport and sneak away plan is still the best option."

It galled her a bit, Kurt's calm easy-going nature even in moments like this. She might have even taken some solace from it if she couldn't taste his thoughts and know such equanimity came from an idiotic complete faith in the power of his god, a belief that his creator had some holy reason for all this suffering. She was sure that there was no god because if it did, it surely hated mutantkind...

"You'd better be right..."

Right on cue, Forge's dimensional communication array lit up and she heard Betsy's voice, "Pardon that little hick-up! We've got bloody Scarlet Witch on my ass! Fancy popping in, Kurt? Pretty please!"

He had the presence of mind to duck his head and avoid Emma's sharp look even as he leaned into the device, "On the way! Have no fear for the Amazing-"

BAMF!

While he blathered Emma had already shot her psychic power out like a spear of light and caught Betsy's own more subtle tendril. She snatched up the offered information, her exact location and cast it into Kurt's mind and made him initiate his first teleport. Speed was their ally now. She followed his progress as he rapidly traveled across the jungle and into the outskirts of the city in half a minute, his blue form appearing in only brief flashes and quickly decaying black smoke.

Then he was right beside Psylocke as she crouched in the bathroom on the third floor of an apartment building. He wrapped an arm about her and just like that thirty seconds later, they were both back in the Blackbird. Betsy settled heavily into a chair as Kurt released her to swiftly move to the pilot's seat and prepare for lift-off. Her top was torn completely and her large breasts wobbled wildly as she wiped some sweat from her brow. She noticed her predicament and made a useless attempt at getting the strips of clothing to cover herself before she cast a glance at Kurt's back and gave up, "Uh fuck it...", letting her tits flop out as they would.

"Thank god you came when you did. I was having a hell of a time losing that bloody witch. She kept-"

Emma reached out and entered Psylocke's mind. She'd already decided to give the lesser telepath a full once-over as soon as she got back. She hadn't bothered to ask or warn Betsy for obvious reasons. The consequences were too dire to mess around with such polite niceties.

Betsy's mindscape took the form of a English lord's manor-house styled like something out of the nineteenth century. She was sitting on a claw-foot couch nearby looking exhausted and decidedly not herself. It took Emma a moment to remember that the blonde Caucasion before her was Psylocke's original body. She'd been forcibly body-swapped by the Hand's leader in order to revive his brain-dead girlfriend. That whole fiasco... How Kurt could truly believe in God in this messed up world was truly a miracle.

"Oh hello there!" Betsy chirped with false cheer, before closing her eyes and waving a hand, "Bollocks, I'm basically naked on the outside and completely naked on the inside. Well, have at it. Have a look around."

Emma didn't bother to respond, focusing first on reviewing the woman's memories going backwards from the point of Kurt's retrieval. She hadn't gotten anything at all before the attack came.

"Well, that answers that question." She held up one hand, holding the mental representation of Betsy frozen in the air above her in mid leaping strike, glowing purple dagger in both hands. She was once again her purple-haired Asian form. "Let's see." She pushed out with her free hand and a bubble of **** rushed outward to buffet the furniture around. When it hit the walls of the room they fell away having taken on a distinctly fake and insubstantial look ever since Betsy switched from hiding her thoughts to attempting a futile attack on Emma's mind.

Now she found herself standing outside and within a Japanese rock garden all around. Instead of spare boulders, the lined gravel contained a variety of absurd stone statues. One was Mark as Michelangelo's David if the artist spent an inordinate amount of time detailing a flaccid penis that hung practically to his knees. Another was a massive tower in the shape of an erect dick. The final one showed the scene of Betsy's latest brain-washing, her on her knees and Mark in an open robe touching her exposed breasts as she looked up at him with open worship.

She slipped out into the real world an snapped, "She's mind-controlled. He got her. Punch it. We've got to get out of here."

The Blackbird was already in the air, the Wakandan jungles sliding past below, the savanna opening ahead of them. "How unfortunate!" Kurt exclaimed with a quick glance over his shoulder at their now **** teammate, "I'm already on it! I pray you can remove his influence?"

"We'll see. If I can't, Xavier with Cerebro surely must."

Back inside Psylocke's head, her opponent had wriggled a bit of herself out from Emma's control and she had to deal with a pair of clones wielding a psychic sword and claws respectively. She dispersed them and reformed Betsy as a doll version of herself sitting at a table before a set of tea as the environment shifted to that of a sunny garden at her command. Taking a seat across from the diminutive purple haired doll propped up standing in her own.

As the doll shook a bit with Betsy's efforts, Emma poured them both cups of tea, "I don't know why you struggle. You know you can't resist my power. Just relax and let me see what I can do to fix you, hmm?"

She let Psylocke speak, "Because I'm distracting you, you arrogant harlot!"

Emma's heart skipped a beat. No...

Psylocke's doll face smirked, "Yes. My mistress took a plane and was on her way to your location before I called you. You remember the mission briefing on the Markandan aircraft? Faster than the Blackbird and no confidence that our stealth can beat their sensors..."

A shadow darkened the garden around them, the sounds of chattering bird-song suddenly going silent.

"Oh, there she is now."

Emma pushed out of her chair and spun, gathering her power to face the towering giant of Jean Grey.

"Hi there Emma."

She sighed and stood her ground, "Oh hello Jean. I want you to know how very upsetting it is that you got yourself lobotomized by a teenager."

Jean just smiled down at her.

Emma gathered her power, marshaling every iota of psychic fuel she had even as her mind raced for some brilliant stratagem to extract her from this sudden trap. She had no great expectation of success as even if it had been an even fight, she had one hand behind her back keeping Psylocke restrained. And as much as it galled her to admit, it was not an even fight.

Still, she was no weakling. She was a powerful proud mutant. She was the White Queen and she wouldn't go down easy, no-

Emma was abruptly back in the Blackbird's cockpit, Kurt's brimstone scent in her nostrils, and Mark's hands on her breasts.

"Hi. I'm Mark and I'd very much like for you to switch sides and become my devoted ****."