A Brand New Day. Same Old Problem.

Jonathan woke and he felt incredible. So fucking satisfied. So fucking good. It felt like he’d released every last built up bit of tension in his balls. His conscious mind was dreamy. He opened his eyes and saw an unfamiliar ceiling. That pulsed a bit of adrenaline and confusion through him and he sat up, knocking into his morning wood and sending it swinging under the sheet.

The big high class smoothly stylish very clearly feminine bedroom around him was unfamiliar for an instant before it ALL came rushing back to him.

He’d fucked a woman. Actual dick in pussy and… balls unloading cum in said pussy… sex. He was no longer a virgin. He’d fucked the brains out of a hot ass lady. He’d fucked THE WASP! A famous superheroine… AN AVENGER!

Flashes of last night filtered through his mind like the finest fucking porn reel ever burned into an eighteen year old's brain.

He remembered the hallway, the space too tight for anything but her bracing both hands against the opposite walls, her breath coming in chopped little bursts as he drilled into her from behind. He remembered the brutal, animal shift when her knees finally gave out. She had slid down to the cold marble floor, collapsing face down with her bare little ass lifted high, offering up that glossy, fucked-open hole. The memory of crouching over her, plunging straight down into her gaping heat, and watching her small body literally lift off the floor from the sheer, greedy grip of her pussy on his cock- fuck, it made his morning wood jerk violently against his stomach. No mind control, no psychic push. Just raw, primal sex noise and her begging for more.

Then the bathtub. The massive, rich-person soaking tub. He remembered sitting in the sloped end while she climbed over his lap, her thighs shaking, warm water rippling around their hips. The way she sank down onto his thick shaft with a long, broken moan that echoed off the tile. She had bounced on him, water slopping over the rim onto the floor, her firm, wet breasts jiggling as she ground her clit against his pelvis. It was messy and slippery, filled with exhausted, open-mouthed kisses where she just moaned straight onto his tongue, completely wrecked and totally addicted to his dick.

He’d fucked her all over this penthouse. The entryway mirror, the bathroom sink, the shower, and finally, crawling to the bed to finish it. He’d unloaded every single drop of his pent-up cum deep inside an Avenger while she wrapped her legs around him and held him there, taking it like she had been made specifically for him.

Jonathan laid back on the ridiculously soft pillows and let out a breathless, arrogant laugh. He, a mute mutant kid from a broken family, had a superheroine completely hooked. She thought it was all her idea, all her own desperate, insatiable need. The sheer, untouchable high of it buzzed in his veins like electricity. He stared at the ceiling, a smug, untouchable grin stretching across his face.

Life was perfect. He was a god. There wasn't a single thing in the world that could ruin this feeling

Wait. He wasn't a god. He KNEW that. He was a stupid idiot KID and every bit of that last happy, RETARDED monologue would be up for mental catalogue by freakin Marvel Girl, the X-Men's hot as fuck big-titted lovely legged red-head mega level telepath- and she'd see THAT thought too!

He had actually made a firm decision yesterday afternoon. He remembered standing out in the living room, looking through the glass at the tiny cars trapped in traffic far down below. He had resolved not to take advantage of Janet anymore. He wanted to go to Jean with a clear conscience, or at least with the proof that he had finally made a solid decision to start heading in the right direction. He had sworn to keep his hands off the steering wheel of her mind.

Instead, he had caved instantly. Janet had pulled his sweats down and sucked him off right there on the rug. And after that, he had used her tight little pussy all night long. That was absolutely not going to look good when Jean dug around in his head. The psychic was going to see every depraved detail. She would see Ms. Roberts crawling on the floor. She would see Mystique eating his cum off Maria Hill's face. She would see exactly how completely he had hijacked Janet's mind, turning a sunny, heroic Avenger into his own personal, free-use slut who interpreted raw sexual use as pure emotional comfort.

DAMN IT! Why couldn't he control himself?!

He was lying naked in Janet Van Dyne’s bed, hard again after spending all night fucking her, and he was already mentally describing Jean Grey’s tits for the future crime scene investigator who was going to be walking around inside his head.

He was so screwed.

Not fun screwed. Not Janet on the marble floor making open-mouthed noises while he dragged her hips up by the grip of her pussy screwed.

Real screwed.

Telepathically examined by the X-Men screwed.

Locked in a S.H.I.E.L.D. room while serious adults said things like “containment protocols” and “ethical review” screwed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, literally hitting himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. Think about baseball. Think about 17th-century siege warfare. Think about covalent bonds!

Nope. Instead, his traitorous brain helpfully supplied a crystal-clear, high-definition fantasy of Maria Hill on her knees in her SHIELD uniform, swallowing his load while checking her phone. Then it immediately pivoted to Mystique, blue and naked, shapeshifting into Black Widow while giving him a lap dance.

Fuck me. I’m going to mutant prison. They're going to lock me in a plastic box under the ocean.

Then the door to the bedroom swung open and Janet Van Dyne strolled in like this was the most normal morning in the world.

"Good morning, sweetheart!"

She was fully dressed in her black and yellow Wasp suit looking completely radiant and disgustingly well-rested. Her signature short hair was neat, kicking out in those familiar sharp flares at the nape of her neck that seemed like you'd need a lot of product and time to already have in place. Her makeup was light and perfect. The suit hugged her athletic body in all the places his hands had been gripping last night, and his brain immediately supplied an unhelpful little slideshow of her bent over the sink, riding him in the tub, and folded under him on the bed.

She strutted right up to the edge of the mattress, leaning over to plant a warm, minty, infuriatingly cheerful kiss directly on his lips. He blinked up at her, paralyzed by a mixture of lingering arousal and impending doom.

Janet pulled back, sitting comfortably on the edge of the mattress. Her smile softened as her bright blue eyes scanned his face. She sighed, reaching out to brush a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead.

"Oh, honey," she cooed, her voice dripping with breezy affection. "You are thinking way too loud. I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. Let me guess: stressing about the redhead?"

John's jaw clenched. He gave a jerky nod before he raised his hands and slowly signed: Maybe I should just tell Jean the truth. I should confess everything. Let her read my mind and just fix me. Ask for forgiveness.

Janet's bright smile softened into a look of profound, sisterly sympathy, but her eyes were iron hard. She caught his hands and squeezed them gently.

"Oh, sweetheart, no," she said, her voice dripping with affection. "You are such a good kid for feeling that way, but you have to trust me on this. Jean will not understand. She will take one look at our dynamic and she will get everyone entirely riled up. She'll get you locked you in a secure cell and call it therapy. I do not trust S.H.I.E.L.D. to treat you fairly, and I certainly do not trust the X-Men with my favorite boy. Stop worrying. Big sis has this all figured out. Everything is going to be fine."

He shook his head frantically, pulling his hands back to sign in a rapid, desperate blur. Fine?! How is anything fine?! She reads minds, Janet! You can not just outsmart a telepath! She is going to look inside my head, see exactly what I made you do, and lock me in a cage for the rest of my life!

She stared at his hands intently, clearly not getting everything but picking up on the gist.

"Stop it. Just... stop." She patted his cheek, completely unbothered. "I told you last night I was going to take care of you, didn't I? Big sis has got a plan, and everything is already completely taken care of."

He stared at her with open disbelief but slowly and clearly signed, How? Why?

She let out a soft sigh, her expression turning earnest. "It's because you're my favorite person in the world. Did you really think I was going to let some stuffy, self-righteous psychic march dig around in your head, and try to 'fix' what we have? I'm your big sister, John. Protecting you is my job." She leaned forward, tapping his nose. "And as for how... well, I had to do a little late-night lab work to figure out a counter-measure for Jean. But don't you worry, I've got this."

“And so here is what is happening now” she said, patting his hand. “You are going to sit right there. You are going to relax. You are going to let me cook you a ridiculous breakfast because you burned, like, nine thousand calories last night.”

His face went red.

Janet’s eyes flicked down to the sheet again. It was still tented, because of course it was. His cock was apparently trying to submit a rebuttal to the idea of panic.

She pointed at it.

“And some parts of you are clearly still on victory parade.”

He pushed his dick to the side and down with his arm braced against the sheet.

Janet laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made it worse because it was fond, not mocking.

“Oh, don’t hide from me now. I had that thing in my mouth and my cunt all night long." She leaned in, her bright blue eyes dropping to the sheet as a wicked, filthy little smirk played on her lips. "And honestly, with how filthy your mind is, it is probably only a matter of time before it ends up in my ass, right, baby?"

John swallowed hard. His brain was officially short-circuiting. The sheer, impossible whiplash between her calling herself his protective 'big sis' and casually talking about taking his massive cock up her ass was completely frying his nervous system. His morning wood throbbed, straining against the silk, absolutely thrilled by the prospect.

"See?" Janet cooed, giving his covered erection a playful, totally shameless squeeze. "Nothing to panic about. I have a plan, and everything is completely taken care of. All you need to do is relax, let me cook you a massive breakfast to face the day, and follow my lead."

"She is right, you know."

The voice came from the bedroom doorway. It was smooth, cruel, and distinctly not Janet's.

John’s head whipped around. His heart stopped dead in his chest.

Standing in the doorway was Mystique. In all her blue-skinned, yellow-eyed, terrifying glory. She wearing her thigh-slit white dress with the skulls, her hips cocked to one side and her arms crossed under her big breasts.

John scrambled backward on the bed so fast his bare back slammed against the headboard with a loud thump. FUCK!

His mind completely blue-screened. Why is she here?! Did the command break? Is she here to kill me? Is she going to skin Janet alive?! He frantically grabbed for the sheets, pulling them up to his chin like a shield, his eyes wide with absolute, pants-shitting terror.

"Hey, hey, easy!" Janet laughed, catching his flailing wrist. She didn't even look back at the deadliest shapeshifting assassin on the planet leaning against her doorframe. She just treated his terror like a goofy overreaction. "Relax, John. Deep breaths."

Relax?! He mouthed, pointing a shaking finger at the blue woman staring at him with calculating, predatory eyes.

"I know, it is a surprise," Janet said breezily, giving his knee another comforting pat. "I went and got her released from S.H.I.E.L.D. lockup this morning to help out with The Plan."

John stared at Janet as if she had sprouted a second head. He forced his trembling hands to frantically sign, 'How did you do that?!'

Janet caught the signs, sounding them out before giving a happy, careless shrug. "Oh, I got Maria to help, obviously!" she beamed. "You told me all about how you can control her with your phone, silly."

She held up his phone cheekily.

For one horrible second, John just stared at her. His brain could not even panic properly because panic required processing the sentence first. Janet had used Maria. Janet Van Dyne, sunny little Avenger big-sis Janet, had taken the awful phone trigger he confessed during a footjob and just casually used it to spring Mystique from S.H.I.E.L.D. custody before breakfast. This had gotten completely beyond him. He had thought commands were like buttons. Push this thought, get this result. But they were not buttons. They were seeds dropped into real people with money, skills, grudges, contacts, habits, and their own insane logic.

He’d given them basic, brute-force commands. Trust me. Protect me. Be my loving big sister. He’d treated his powers like a video game cheat code, expecting them to just stand around acting like dumb, happy NPCs waiting for his next input. But they weren't NPCs. They were apex predators, billionaire super-geniuses, and elite black-ops directors. He had handed a vague directive to real, terrifyingly capable women, and their brilliant minds had taken his bullshit and sprinted a fucking marathon with it. Janet hadn't just 'protected' him; she’d hacked SHIELD, reverse-engineered telepathic defenses, and orchestrated a federal prison break with his cell phone while he was asleep!

"Breathe," Janet said, rubbing his knee through the sheet. "She is on our side. Remember? You put that protector thought right into her head. She is here to help us."

Jonathan stared at Mystique as she sauntered over to the other side of the bed, her eyes scanning him with cold, calculating amusement. He noticed she was wearing the familiar earpieces.

He looked back at Janet. The Wasp was wearing them too.

"See?" Janet tapped the S.H.I.E.L.D. physic dampener. "We both have them in. Not because your power is bad! I will absolutely take this off and let you play with me later tonight. But right now we need to make sure an accidental thought does not slip out and distract me while I am coordinating things with Maria and Mystique. Plus, I bet it makes you feel better to know we are totally safe right now, huh? You're such a good boy."

The realization hit him all at once: with both dampeners active, he had no new moves. He could not nudge, soften, redirect, or stop either woman. All he had left were the commands already buried in their heads, and now he was the one stuck going along with wherever those commands had taken them.

NOT that he should want to do anything to them... this was a GOOD thing, right? He was a good guy...

Janet leaned in and kissed his cheek. She patted his chest and stood up.

"Now, big sis has to go get that epic breakfast started. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, the works!" Janet turned to Mystique, gesturing casually toward the massive, impossible to hide tent jutting up from the middle of the silk sheets. "Mystique, be a doll and take care of this great big boner, will you? I need to get the bacon going!"

Mystique's golden eyes flared, and her lips peeled back in a genuine sneer. "I am a Brotherhood operative and an elite assassin," she hissed, her voice dripping with sudden, venomous pride. "I am not your fucking concubine, bug. Do not mistake my tactical cooperation for servitude."

Janet just laughed, completely unfazed. She waved a hand dismissively as she walked toward the door. "Oh, hush. We are on the same team now. I cook, you suck. It is basic division of labor. Have fun, you two!"

The cheerful Avenger left through the open doorway with a cute wiggle to her hips.

The silence in the room was deafening. John stopped breathing. He was trapped in a bed with a shape-shifting terrorist, his psychic powers were completely walled off by the piece of S.H.I.E.L.D. tech in her ears, and his dick was throbbing so hard under his restraining arm it physically ached. He was completely at her mercy.

Mystique glared after Janet for a second, her blue jaw clenched tight. Then, she turned her head slowly, her piercing yellow eyes locking onto John's terrified face. Then a predatory smirk curved her dark lips as her blue skin began to ripple. It was a slow, deliberately indulgent performance. Her chest surged forward, expanding into a pair of gravity-defying mounds that pushed the top of her dress to its absolute breaking point.

She ran a gloved hand down her ribs and executed a slow, sensual pivot. She swayed her hips lazily as she turned her back to the bed, putting her shifting rear front and center for his viewing pleasure. Below her sharply cinched waist, her lower half ballooned. Her hips flared with a breathtaking, exaggerated width, her thighs packing on dense, plush muscle. The white dress she wore was little more than a pair of draped cloth panels beneath the skulls of her belt, and as her rear rapidly swelled with thick, greedy mass, the narrow strip of fabric in the back was simply swallowed up. The cloth vanished into the deep cleft of her expanding backside, leaving the sheer, jiggling bulk of her enormous blue cheeks entirely bare and on full display.

She glanced back over her shoulder, offering a wicked, knowing smile before turning to face him once more. It was only then, as she fully squared her shoulders toward the bed, that he realized she'd seemed to have grown like five inches taller during her shift. She hadn't just widened; she had grown larger overall, scaling up into an imposing, towering Amazon of extreme femininity without distorting her impossible hourglass proportions. She lifted one gloved hand and dragged her fingers lightly beneath one enormous breast, testing the new weight with open amusement.

"This," Mystique purred, her voice smooth and pleased, "usually gets a more honest reaction."

She stalked forward. Her massive tits rolled hypnotically with each step, her thick thighs brushing together. As she reached the edge of the mattress, she did not bother unclasping her belt. The white dress and boots simply melted, fading directly into her blue skin as part of her mutation, leaving her completely and obscenely naked.

The sheer volume of her bare breasts was staggering. They hung heavy and full, the vibrant blue flesh smooth and pulled taut over the enormous, swaying weight. Sprawling across the center of each globe were massive, dark indigo areolas, as wide as saucers and tightly pebbled with arousal. Jutting out from those dark, textured circles were her nipples, thick, stiff, and shaped like fat little corks that rolled with their movement and often pointed out to the sides.

As she crawled onto the bed Jonathan tried to shrink into the mattress. He lifted his hands quickly to sign. You really do not want to hurt me for what I did?

Mystique got closer and ripped his sheet away to expose his still stubbornly raging cock.

"Oh, I will absolutely hurt you if you ever try to put another thought in my head," Mystique said, her voice a dark, scraping purr. "Do not even look at this device too closely. Do not even think of accidentally knocking it astray. Know this. I will never kill you. I will never let any real harm come to you. But I will hurt you as a lesson. I am no one's slave."

She suited her words by straddling his hips, her heavy thighs sinking into the mattress on either side of her waist and very firmly filling her hand with his balls as the other one caught and braced his shaft into the smothering embrace of her massive tits. The hand on his nuts squeezed ever so gently and pointedly.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Mutant psycho terrorist giant-titty super slut was sitting on him and had him by the balls! His heart hammered a frantic, erratic rhythm against his ribs, absolutely terrified that she might decide to crush his balls in her fist just to prove a point. Yet, feeling the sheer, smothering heat of her blue skin and watching his cock get swallowed between those impossible mountains of flesh, his erection only surged thicker, a completely fucked-up, paralyzing dichotomy where his brain screamed in terror while his dick practically begged for the abuse.

"These dampeners are a good thing for that bleeding heart of yours," Mystique told him, looking down at his cock and balls with frank appraisal. "But the only thought you placed in my mind was to protect you. To know that you are special. Otherwise, I am completely myself. So when I decide to fuck you, you can be absolutely sure it is because I want to, not because you are controlling me."

She was going to fuck him?!

Jonathan swallowed hard. He signed again. You really do not care what I did to you? The shifting? The humiliation?

Mystique shrugged, her massive blue breasts swaying heavily. She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around the thick base of his cock.

"You used your power on an enemy to make me dance for you and suck you off," Mystique stated flatly. "We are mutants. We are not Christianity-poisoned humans. Sex is just sex. I have used my shape-shifting to fuck all sorts of hapless humans, making them think I was their loving wife or husband. I once seduced a prominent anti-mutant politician in the exact form of his adult daughter just for blackmail material. A forced blowjob is nothing."

She squeezed his shaft, her thumb rubbing the slick pre-cum at the tip. Jonathan groaned, his hips bucking upward purely on instinct.

"Look at this," Mystique murmured. The sharp, warning pressure of her fingers melted away, shifting into a slow, sensual roll. She massaged the heavy, swollen orbs trapped in her palm, working the loose skin of his ballsac as she smoothly switched from cupping one nut to the other. "How could you possibly not be superior with equipment like this? Do you feel that pressure? Feel it in your balls?" She stroked the sensitive, wrinkled skin with the pad of her thumb. "Have you ever seen human men naked? I have. They have tiny, pathetic little dicks. We are mutants, Jonathan. You have not been around many of our kind. You have not seen what it is like when we get together in real community. We have powerful libidos. We like to fuck. Notions of monogamy and vilifying sex are beneath us."

She leaned forward, letting her enormous blue breasts completely smother his chest and face, the sheer, crushing weight of them pressing him deep into the pillows.

"If you went with Jean Grey and the X-Men," Mystique continued, her voice vibrating directly against his jaw, "they would make you ashamed of your own biology. They would never let you bury this magnificent mutant cock in wet, willing pussy all day. They would keep these massive nuts of yours all pent up. But that one command you gave me was a conclusion I would have come to eventually once I realized your power. We mutants must stick together if we are to survive the humans."

Jonathan panted, his hands gripping the sheets, barely able to breathe through the cleavage suffocating him. When she pulled back he managed to sign awkwardly between their faces, her tits, and his cock: What do you want?

"What do I want?" Mystique echoed, her golden eyes flashing with absolute, terrifying certainty.

She lifted her massive, plush blue thighs, rising up into a high, wide squat that pulled her immense breasts out of his face. She reached down, her long blue fingers wrapping around his thick aching shaft, and guided the broad head directly to her soaking wet slit.

"I want to protect you," she answered.

She sank down.

Her tight blue cunt stretched and parted around his massive girth, accepting him like her body had been biologically engineered specifically for his cock. The heat inside her was absolute, a boiling, frictionless slip. She was perfectly, devastatingly wet, her internal muscles immediately clamping down around his shaft and squeezing him in a relentless, pulsing rhythm.

Jonathan groaned out loud, his hands flying up to grab her impossibly wide hips as she buried him to the hilt.

Mystique gasped, throwing her head back, her massive blue breasts heaving as she took his entire length. She began a slow, agonizingly deep ride. She lifted her massive ass off his thighs, pulling up until just the head of his cock remained inside her slick grip, before slowly, deliberately sinking all the way back down, letting her swollen clit drag hard against his pubic bone.

"Before you changed me," Mystique murmured, riding him in that slow, grinding rhythm that milked every nerve ending in his dick, "I might have protected you today and decided you were expendable tomorrow. Magneto might have given me another order. The Brotherhood’s needs might have shifted. I might have looked at you and decided your power mattered more than the frightened boy carrying it."

She sank down hard, her internal muscles rhythmically clenching around him.

"You would never have known," she continued, her voice vibrating with conviction, "whether I was standing beside you because I wanted to, because Magneto told me to, or because I was waiting for the right moment to use you."

Her hands tightened on his chest, her sharp blue nails biting just enough into his skin to keep his full, terrified attention.

"That uncertainty is gone now," she whispered, her hips rolling in a slow, perfect circle that made Jonathan whimper. "Your life comes first. Always. Magneto cannot order me to abandon you. The Brotherhood cannot trade you away. I cannot wake up next week and decide you have become inconvenient. You made that ironclad."

Jonathan stared at her, his hips involuntarily bucking up to meet her slow, heavy strokes.

Mystique leaned closer, her enormous tits dragging over his chest. "And that is exactly why you belong with us. I want you to join the Brotherhood of Mutants. I want to train you. I want you to use your powers for the mutant cause. You should want this too. We are your natural allies without any mind control."

Her voice turned lower, smoother, the threat folding neatly into a sales pitch as she milked his massive cock.

"The X-Men will welcome you with rules, supervision, therapy, apologies, and a carefully prepared list of reasons you should feel ashamed of every useful instinct you possess. They will tell you they accept you while teaching you how to make humans less frightened of you." She ground her pelvis down violently. "The Brotherhood does not need you to crawl in guilty. We already understand what you are. Powerful. Dangerous. Valuable. Mutant."

She brushed a thumb over his jaw with deliberate possession.

"You would not have to beg us to forgive your power. You would learn how to use it. You would not have to apologize for wanting women, control, safety, or respect. We would provide you people who understand those things and expect you to stop pretending they make you broken. Friends and allies... Family..."

Her dark lips curved into a cold, arrogant smile.

"I am still Raven Darkholme," she promised. "I am not Janet’s pet, and I am not your puppet. I am smarter than you, more experienced than you, more ruthless, and far more dangerous than you."

She moved closer until he could feel her hot breath against his ear, her voice dropping into a wry, mocking whisper.

"But I am also the one person you can trust with your life completely. The Brotherhood already has a place for you, Jonathan. No guilt trip. No psychic trial. No cage disguised as help. So just be a good boy..." She bit his earlobe lightly. "...and let daddy take care of everything."

Daddy?

With that, Mystique abandoned the slow ride. She dropped her weight and began to fuck him with brutal force. She lifted her pelvis and slammed it down hard, the wet, slapping sound echoing loudly in the room like a gunshot. She rode him like a piston, slapping her wet pussy down on his cock again and again.

Jonathan’s brain scrambled, desperately trying to process her words between the mind-melting waves of physical pleasure. The Brotherhood of Mutants? Magneto? The thought ricocheted through his skull. They were terrorists. Literal, textbook mutant supremacists. The idea of having anything to do with a historical supervillain like Magneto was completely insane. He was just a kid from a broken family, not a global threat!

But... as her heavy hips hammered down again, forcing a ragged groan from his throat, a dark, traitorous part of his mind realized she made a terrifying amount of sense. S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, and the X-Men would judge him. They would look at what he did to Janet, look at his total lack of self-control, and lock him in a box in the name of morality. The Brotherhood wouldn't care. They would encourage it. Her pitch spoke directly to that deeply buried, selfish part of him that thoroughly enjoyed using his powers to get his dick wet and take exactly what he wanted.

And beneath the fear, the guilt, and the overwhelming arousal, there was something else. We already understand what you are. He had never thought of mutants as "a people." He had never considered himself part of a distinct race or culture. He had always just been Jonathan, isolated and hiding. Hearing this apex predator claim him, not just as a tool, but as one of her own kind, sent a strange, warm thrill through his chest. Belonging to a group. Having a place among his own people. It actually felt... nice.

---

In her sunlit kitchen, Janet Van Dyne hummed a cheerful tune while pouring batter into the waffle iron. She was keeping her mind half-busy with all of her plans for today and coordinating things with her phone as she worked, when when the first loud, wet slap echoed down the hallway.

Then came another. And another. The rhythmic, meaty sound of skin violently hitting skin was impossible to ignore.

Janet smiled, wiped her hands on a towel, and decided to go take a peek. She padded quietly down the plush carpet and stood in the open doorway.

Mystique had blown herself up stupidly big. The shapeshifter was riding Jonathan like a piston, her tiny waist flaring out into impossibly wide hips. Her outrageously large, fleshy blue buttcheeks were rolling, spreading, and jiggling with every brutal downward slam. For one highly irreverent second, watching that massive blue rear end clapping away in the air, Janet could not help but think of a big blue baboon.

The sheer, exaggerated scale of the blue woman felt like a deliberate insult aimed directly at Janet's own cute, petite five-foot-four frame. But Janet did not feel a single drop of jealousy. She knew exactly how excited Johnathan was when he held her, and she knew exactly how much he hungered for her tight little body.

Mystique was not a threat. Mystique was just a tool. A very useful, very filthy tool. She was a little squeezebox to drain the panicked tension out of her little bro before they had to see the telepath. With her mutation, the blue terrorist was essentially a biological Swiss army knife of on-call hotties, able to become any woman Jonathan could ever want so he never had to look outside the safe little circle Janet was building.

Mystique paused at the top of a stroke. Her yellow eyes snapped toward the crack in the door.

"You are staring," Mystique hissed, her voice tight with exertion.

"I am supervising," Janet whispered back with a sunny, unrepentant grin.

Mystique's golden eyes narrowed. She did not cover up. Instead, she leaned all the way forward, deliberately smothering Jonathan's panicked face between her massive, pillow-sized blue tits. She arched her spine and rocked her impossibly wide hips even higher into the air, pulling herself almost entirely off of him in a blatant, territorial display.

The exaggerated movement exposed the visceral, dark pink reality of her spread-wide pussy, completely blown out by his girth. His brutally thick cock was painted in her frothy cum, a slick, shiny mess of thick strings of arousal stretching and snapping between them, heavily lubricating their combined groins. Janet's breath hitched, appreciating the absurd size of her boy all over again. Looking at that vein-ridged pillar dripping with the mutant's juices, Janet genuinely could not believe she had managed to wrap her own tight little body around that monstrous thing for hours the night before.

Maintaining dead eye contact with Janet, Mystique slammed her pelvis back down.

The wet, meaty slap against his thighs was deafening. Her piston-like rhythm grew instantly stronger, rougher, and fiercely possessive. She hammered her wide hips into him with brutal force, claiming him with every downward stroke, as if her tight blue pussy was physically stamping the word MINE directly onto his pelvis.

"Keep up the good work," Janet encouraged brightly, completely unfazed by the aggressive display. "He needs his balls completely empty and his tank completely full before we head out."

Janet blew a quick kiss to a completely ruined-looking Jonathan, pulled the door shut to muffle the loud slapping sounds, and happily went back to her waffles.