Scarlet Wars: Episode 2 (Part 5: The Swinging 60s)

Written in collaboration with Cross C

“Make some children! WOOOO!!!”

But Wanda did not woo.

The crowd may have been into this new plot, but she was not instantly on board. Having to watch in shock as so many men and women began leaving their seats and disrobing with no shame whatsoever.

“A-an orgy?!” She exclaimed, somewhat escaping her own mental XXX parody, “But… this town is so… is supposed to be…”

Her qualms were somewhat stuffed when the man of her dreams grabbed her shoulders to sweep the Avenger of her feet, “Every town has its quirky traditions, girlie. So what if this provincial paradise has a bit of a perverted side? From what I’ve seen, you’ll fit right in.”

That beat of her heart got the better of her only briefly, feeling like a Disney princess in Mark’s arms (though she wondered if Jasmine or Ariel ever felt a cock so large pressing into their backs as they swooned.) “M-Mesmero…”

“Not Mesmero anymore, show’s over. Call me Mark, Wanda.” He grinned, giving Glamor’s face a little lean in, teasing the possibility of an adulterous kiss… but ultimately letting her up from his swoon to get her on her feet and twirl her in place. Wanda stumbling a little on her weak knees before finding Mark’s lips on the back of her hand, “I’ll see ya down there, darling.”

And with that he was away. Hopping off the stage to join the bizarre ritual. Leaving Wanda yelling, “Don’t take that horse costume off yet, Dana! I’ve always wanted to be the rear! May as well mount a mare while I have this stallion!” Before disappearing into the crowd completely.

A part of Wanda suddenly wished she hadn’t let him go. She had no idea how she only remembered as he was leaving, but was Mark… that Mark? It couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen him since Sokovia… and that was a place long gone now. In a world so big, it would be impossible for her to meet up with an old friend like that here… midway through a salacious fuckfest.

For all the robots, wizards, and aliens she’d met, the Avenger could only stare at the 60s town orgy in awe.

The warm afternoon sun hung low over Westview's town square, casting long shadows across the cobblestone paths. What had started as a strange, slightly awkward magic show had now transformed into something else entirely—a free love celebration reminiscent of the swinging 60s. It was like stepping into a hazy, dreamlike version of a hippie festival, complete with the music of distant tambourines and guitar strings that seemed to float in the air.

The tables and chairs that once dotted the lawn had melted away, dissolving into something far more intimate and organic. In their place, colorful rugs and large, plush pillows covered the ground, forming a cozy, communal circle. Bright tapestries and flowing drapes hung from makeshift poles, giving the entire scene the vibe of a wandering gypsy camp. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of incense and the heady fragrance of sex, the fabric of Westview’s idyllic suburban facade peeling away to reveal a hedonistic undercurrent that had always been lurking just beneath the surface.

It was truly psychedelic, complete with bizarre clouds of hazy smoke and a skyline that didn’t house clouds but instead giant groovy flowers above them, spinning around in place to the funky jams of the free beat.

Gone were the rigid roles and scripted personas; in their place was the uninhibited spirit of an era defined by exploration and liberation, where no one belonged to anyone, and everyone belonged to each other.

Bodies moved together in duos, trios, and tangled masses, switching freely, merging, and then parting like the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Dottie, ever the queen bee of Westview, had shed her air of superiority. Now, she was on her knees before Herb, her golden hair, once meticulously styled, was now a wild mane cascading over her shoulders as she leaned forward, taking him into her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

Though his penis was small, barely more than a nub compared to the other men, Dottie caressed him with tenderness, her hands sliding over his soft stomach and chest. Herb, though shy at first, was relaxed, his hands gripping her head gently, his hips twitching with every gentle pull. Behind her, Phil kneeled close, his thick fingers spreading her pale cheeks as he thrust into her from behind, grunting with each deep plunge, releasing his seed inside her without hesitation.

Nearby, Stephen—freed from his role as the Cuckoo Clock—had partnered up with Barbara. His powerful frame towered over her as she lay back on a colorful blanket, her legs spread wide, his thick black cock pounding into her tight, wet folds. Her petite body quivered under him, her breasts bouncing freely with each thrust. Barbara gasped, her hands gripping the blanket as he drove himself deeper into her. They were lost in the rhythm, their moans mixing with the sounds of others around them. His seed spilled inside her without hesitation, and neither cared as it slowly seeped out onto the blanket beneath them.

Bodies moved freely, fluidly, and without hesitation. Men and women alike sported the liberal, untamed aesthetic of the era. Full bushes sprouted from their groins, free and ungroomed, like symbols of rebellion against the conservative standards that once held them in check. Hair was worn long and loose, with some sporting the shaggy, windswept look of hippies. Braids threaded with beads swayed as heads moved in rhythm to the unseen pulse that dictated the flow of passion between them all.

Dottie was now straddling Monica’s—or rather, Geraldine’s very real BBC. Geraldine handled the throbbing, flesh-and-blood cock with a mixture of awe and glee. It jutted from her hips with the full weight of its girth, a thick, dark beast that dwarfed every man who roamed the square save for Mesmero.

Without a single care about classism, Dottie lowered herself onto Geraldine’s massive length with an almost regal grace, her moans quickly filling the air as the dark-skinned beauty slid deep inside her. The stretch, the fullness, was overwhelming. The thick girth filled her to the brim, but she reveled in it. Her hips rose and fell in time with the pleasure coursing through her body. She was completely open, her untamed blonde bush matted with sweat and streaked with remnants of a previous lover, but none of that mattered now. Geraldine’s cock was her entire world.

"Mm, yes, that's it... take it all, Dottie," Geraldine groaned, her hands gripping Dottie's hips to help guide her movements. Each thrust into the blonde beauty sent a ripple of ecstasy through her own body, the sensation of sliding in and out so exquisitely intense that Geraldine could barely keep her composure. Every time she bottomed out inside Dottie, her face twisted into expressions of raw pleasure. Masculine groans escaped her lips, and she couldn’t help but throw her head back, lost in the unfamiliar yet thrilling sensations of a man’s pleasure, of possessing this power between her legs.

Dottie, for her part, was utterly shameless. She moved with the grace of a queen, her blonde curls bouncing as her breasts swayed freely with each rise and fall of her hips. Her hands ran down her own body, tracing over her swollen breasts and slick belly as she grinded herself down onto Geraldine’s cock. The mentality of their economic differences the last thing on the blonde’s mind now as her moans came freely, no longer the clipped, haughty sounds she had once made in polite company. Now, Dottie was a creature of lust, completely attuned to the pleasure of being filled.

Nearby, Amos the butcher knelt between Beverly’s spread legs, his own shaggy, unruly hair hanging over his eyes as he licked and sucked at her full, dark brown bush with enthusiasm. The rotund butcher, despite the soft roundness of his belly, moved with surprising dexterity. His tongue traced circles around her swollen folds, drawing out gasps of pleasure from the fleshy, not unattractive woman beneath him. Beverly writhed on the blanket, her large breasts swinging freely as she bucked her hips up against Amos’s eager mouth.

And these were just the first few rows of tents! The further back Wanda looked, the more sights of unfiltered grayscale love making entered her eyes.

So many sights and sounds of enjoyment all around her. Wanda had never felt so unseen while glammed up on a stage before. The many mustached men taking their hairy bushed partners by the hips, or by the head, or wherever a good man could grab, and going to town on their newly liberated fuck buddies. No shame, no inhibitions, just pure love and lust.

Twas the era of freedom after all.

The camera didn’t even need to cut between shots, just full pan wides of the event had enough action and chaos going on it could fill a full adult movie by itself.

Blatant and completely unobscured views of shafts pistoning into hairy snatches, loose balls jiggling with every thrust. Soft breasts, heavy and full, petite or droopy, jiggled and swung with the rhythm of their owners’ bodies, bouncing in time with the movements of their partners. Lips kissed with tongue, eagerly tangling in passionate embraces before their owners easily moved to kiss another, swapping partners without hesitation.

Norm, Westview’s usually well-mannered and buttoned-up employee at Computational Services Inc., had shed not only his suit but his entire demeanor. His hair, now long and wild, had grown into a mess of carefree locks, giving him the look of a proper 60s hippie. His face was plastered with a dopey, blissed-out grin, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as his hands gripped the wide, full hips of Natasha, Mrs. Hart herself, as she ground her round, voluptuous ass into his lap. The sheer shrimpy size of his package looked almost comical buried beneath the voluminous globes of her booty, but his attention was entirely fixated on the two massive, wobbling teardrops of fat erupting from Natasha’s chest.

His face was plastered with a ridiculous, blissed-out grin, eyes half-lidded as he buried his face between Natasha’s enormous tits, motorboating her with wild abandon. His hands clumsily pawed at her breasts, squeezing and kneading them, but they were so large, so wobble-prone, that he couldn’t even contain them in his grip.

Natasha, for her part, barely seemed to notice his tiny cock pressing into her wet hot pussy. She was too lost in the pleasure of the moment, rolling her hips and grinding back against him, the globes of her ass bouncing and clapping against his thighs with every movement. Her breasts swayed wildly with the motion, jiggling uncontrollably as she rode him, pushing her chest further into Norm’s face with every bounce.

“Oh, Norm... you like these, don’t you?” Natasha purred, her voice low and sultry as she reached down to squeeze her own breasts, pushing them together to give Norm even more flesh to bury himself in.

Not far from them, a trio of women, their dresses discarded in colorful piles at their feet, were tangled together on a plush blanket, their legs intertwined, fingers sliding between slick folds as they kissed and caressed one another. Their soft moans filled the air as their hips bucked and ground together, the wet sounds of their fingers working each other’s bodies mixing with the rhythmic slapping of flesh around them.

And the real kicker? None of the sex seemed to be with the man/woman that they’d originally come with.There was so much swapping of partners that it could be a PSA episode for sharing. Moans and groans from so many adulterous swingers. Cocks of various sizes were brandished against bodies of even more variety.

But… something was wrong… wasn’t it?

Even if this was Wandavision XXX, the people of this town had jumped so readily into this orgy. Had something Wanda done manipulated them into thinking this was appropriate? No… she was just a simple housewife with magical powers… the more she thought the more it felt like something was inside her mind, weighing it down. Westview, a town of simple beginnings and the nicest people of America, was secretly full of swingers…

But as she watched, something inside her shifted. A realization began to bloom in her mind.

This—this was what the town wanted. This was what it needed. The perfect 1950s image was just a mask. Underneath the veneer of suburban normalcy, this was the real Westview. A town filled with people who had desires, urges, and the freedom to explore them.

This was that freedom come forth.

For all the rules and roles imposed on the town, this was what lay beneath. And wasn’t that what she wanted? To be free? To live without boundaries, without the limitations that had been placed on her all her life?

It was like the plot of one of those classic television shows she had grown up watching. The strict, proper town suddenly embracing its true, wild nature in a moment of liberation. And if this was how things were meant to be, who was she to fight it?

Westview wasn’t breaking—it was evolving. Changing with the times. What had started as a neat and tidy 1950s sitcom had naturally progressed to the swinging 60s, full of free love and communal living. It made sense, didn’t it? This was just the next chapter in the story. A natural progression.

Wanda’s heartbeat slowed, and a strange sense of calm washed over her. She could feel herself embracing it—the energy of the moment, the spirit of the era.

This wasn’t wrong.

This was pure freedom.

She was growing more aroused by the sexuality on display, who would have thought she’d have brought Vision to such a perverted paradise?

She gasped, “Vision!”

Barely able to stop her jiggling body as she trotted across the stage on high heels, Wanda was panicking that her straight laced synthezoid husband would have a proverbial heart attack if anyone tried to ask him to seduce them! He was already so **** to touch her, for some inane reason, that he surely would have qualm after qualm for fucking another woman!

As she approached the backstage curtain, something caught her ear that stopped Wanda from drawing the large velvet item back and looking upon her man.

There was moaning backstage.

“Come on! Take it!” She heard Agnes growl, “Give it to me already! You can do better than that!”

“Unnngg! NhhFFFFNNNGGGG!!!” Vision moaned in response.

“That’s it! I’m really feeling it now! Ohhh~ Yes! Here’s the big boy!”

Could it be…?

Was it just her guilt, the era, or was Vision really fucking Agnes behind the stage?

Those grunts and moans couldn’t be anything else. The mild mannered automaton had regrown his big phallus from last night and was ramming it into the neighbor’s southern fried coochie!

To throw himself at another, even at such an event like this, without even asking his wife first? That definitely should be classified as a betrayal no matter how you looked at it. Surely if there was an x-ray pointing at her heart right now it would comedically show it breaking in two. Wanda’s consciousness tried to feel that way, but her subconscious couldn’t stop itself from jumping for joy in glee.

After all, if he was going to swing into the 60s then why would Wanda worry?

With a turn of her heel and a spring in her step, the Avenger quickly rushed towards the enamored orgy.

She had to find Mark and make up for lost time!

The white void had been easier to travel with two companions this time.

As they walked, Mark got a whole earful of Wanda’s backstory, straight from the source. There wasn’t much else to do, and he recognized that she was the key to figuring out how to get out of the void, so it made sense to learn as much about her as he could.

Of course, he came from a universe of gods, metal men, fantastic families, and living legends. Many of which had their own museums to visit and Wikipedia pages to scan. So Wanda’s backstory was hardly shocking to him. It was a bummer, no doubt, but all these heroes had a sob story. She walked them through various stages of her life after Sokovia, many of which synching up with the video reel Nat had made for him on the subject of the world, like her battle against Ultron, the Civil Dispute of 12 adults, Wakanda’s stand, all of it spelling a pretty grim picture of a pretty shitty life.

There was no way he was feeling bad for the Sokovian refugee, who had lost her parents and brother, her whole country blown up, anyone she knew now refugees scattered to the ends of the Earth by SHIELD, and yet despite that had found one person to love her only to have him killed by an unstoppable **** that she couldn’t stop. Nahh, that was textbook, boilerplate, regular superhero backstory stuff…

“Man, as soon as I’m outta here I gotta find you properly, Wanda…” Mark mused, scratching his chin as they walked the three of them, “You may have liked that robot, but from the sounds of it, you just haven’t had a real man yet.”

Having morphed a few years in front of his eyes as they walked through the various dioramas, the older Wanda in her superhero gear now stood roughly the same height as Mark. A smile on her face as she looked over the little segment of her mind dedicated to The Avengers’ last battle together. “Thank you, Mark. I’ve felt alone in here for so long without another person to talk to. Just memories of my failures…” She sighed, watching little Wanda kick the twisted screaming purple mass that was Thanos’ retching form.

Mark walked up to her and grabbed the older Wanda’s hand, “Hey, failure ain’t something to give up from. Take it from the biggest loser Mark of the multiverse. You have a life to live, so live it. You can always take what’s yours back.” Their shared experiences made more of a bridge between their hearts than either of them realized, though Mark couldn’t help but ruin the moment by adding, “Besides, you know I’m alive now and you used to have the biggest crush on me when we were in Sokovia. Shouldn’t you follow through with that?”

A blush crept on her face, making the little Wanda giggle with glee, “I… maybe I should… thank you, Mark.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He chuckled, finally letting go of her hand to begin walking past the battle with Thanos, “So, like, what happened with The Avengers after the Thanos stuff, anyway? Thought they would have stepped in to help you with the Vision shit. I swear you guys should have been like one big happy family, but I can’t even tell who's on the roster anymore.”

“It doesn’t get any easier with time.”

The scene they’d been standing in suddenly faded away into dust. The black void taking over once more, but now with additional rushing sound as the next piece of the puzzle began rushing towards them at breakneck pace.

Only having enough time to flinch, Mark braced for impact.

But when nothing hit him, he could only unclench to gaze upon a most wonderful Sunday roast right in front of him on the table he was sitting on.

A tiny little dinner room is where he’d found himself now. Tacky wallpaper, soft sunlight beams, pure evangelical white table cloth, it was as if he’d walked into a painting of family cliches. The long table was full of various people. Wanda 1 and 2, two strange kids roughly the same age as the kid version of her, and that dead red faced robot in a sweater vest sat at the head of the table while reading the newspaper. Only Mark seemed confused, that was until someone much bustier than he’d seen previously turned the chintzy corner with a plate full of potatoes.

“Here we go~!” The even older Wanda beamed, “Shall we begin, my wonderful family?”

Mark scratched at his cheek while watching the ‘dad’ of the family begin to cut the turkey. “Hmm… the ghost of Christmas Future is sexier than I remember…”

Wanda was on a mission.

Stepping down the stage, joining the moaning masses of meat and musk, the Avenger felt two itches deep down. One was for lust, the other for knowledge.

She had to take what was hers.

Vision had made a fake version of Mark’s meat, she could just feel it in her bones, and only a cock that size would ever touch her pussy lips again. If Vision himself was busy with their neighbor, then Wanda too would bite the NTR cliche bullet. The lust inside her wanting nothing more than to pervertedly ride Mark’s bones until he was jizzing cum flavored dust.

But she also had to know… was this the same Mark?

It had been years since she’d seen him, but they looked so similar.

How did she not notice it before?

Her Sokovian crush, who had empowered himself with the same power that flowed through her and Pietro.

Was he here?

That silly boy she played with as a child and longed for before SHIELD spirited him away to parts unknown. She never found him while searching through databases, SHIELD’s collapse from HYDRA keeping him from her, always thinking about him through all the major events of her life…

She had to figure it out. All Wanda had to do now was get through this blasted 60s orgy and take what was hers.

Wanda stepped carefully through the underbrush of the 60s. All while many mustached men and increasingly nude women bumped their own underbrushes together.

“Join us, Wanda!” Said Barbara, sitting on the face of Mrs. Hart and rolling her hips to smear her pussy on the beauty’s features.

“No need to be shy!” Hummed her mailman Dennis, currently getting an oral on his subpoena by a single female lawyer that squatted her thick tushy low for juicy justice.

“Just let it all hang loose, dude!” Said some shaggy haired man she’d never seen before. But was happy to reach out his hand while getting his asshole licked by some other gal.

All of them were reaching their hands out in fact. Trying to get the busty assistant to join them. Some nearly grabbed her tits or ass, some magaing to slap her on her way past, but all disappointed when she managed to slip away . “Th-thank you. But I actually have to, um-”

Suddenly her progress was stopped by the front end of a horse.

“Wanda! You do want to join in, don’t you?” Asked a very nude Beverly, one of the city council members with Dottie, “Our town enjoys free love, so if you aren’t going to participate then I’m afraid… I’ll have to ask you to leave the orgy.” Usually such a positive bubbly girl, the fact that she had to be negative looked like it was physically hurting Beverly. Compounded when the immediate area of orgiers gasped dramatically at the news.

Panic rose up a little in the Avenger, as she both didn’t want to be seen as a pariah, and not leave before she got to see Mark again.

“I-I’ll do it! My husband and I are all about sharing! I used to share a bedroom with my brother, and Vision used to share his mindscape with his evil genocidal father!” Wanda babbled, much to everyone’s confusion. “Uhm, w-who would like me to rub their genitalia?”

Happy with the way that Wanda crouched onto the floor very quickly, the rest of the cast returned to their orgy. With only Herb stepping forward to take the assistant up on her offer.

The size of his pecker being the complete antithesis of the size she wanted made even her soaked vagina dry up. Keeping her long glove on was essential for the lady as she reached forwards and grabbed the tubby man’s erection at the base, with his cockhead only just escaping the superheroine’s fist.

“Ooh, nice pressure.” The large man hummed happily, “I bet your husband loves you very much~”

“Hmm, thank you, Herb.” She wished Vision was here, he was much more charming with his robot jokes, and she would have made an easier zinger about sharing a bathroom with Bruce Banner, but then things had changed wildly this episode. Now she was wanking off this man with frigid enthusiasm. Only performing a rather small motion with the velvet glove as she pumped.

All while her husband used his massive Mark-sized monster on the only woman in town who had enjoyed it before.

“O-oh, that’s a little tight… maybe we can add some o-oral?”

It was almost cruel. The rev of Wanda’s engine had not settled since she saw the usually silent stud’s super schlong. That beautiful creature was out in this field somewhere, yet she was stuck angrily battering around this pathetic thing. There wasn’t even enough smegma on the rim to satisfy her tongue, let alone please the chasm that Vision had carved inside her heart last night.

“Hmm! Huff, W-Wanda! Y-you’re going to make me! UNG!”

After years of missions and special ops, the Avenger had enough skill to dodge the sudden squirt of liquid fire at her. A couple of errant watery streaks across the springy americana grass.

This would be the only time Wanda could have to escape.

“My my, such a big load, Herb!” She faux beamed through gritted teeth, snapping her fingers without remorse and making the large man drift to sleep in his moment of ecstasy still standing up. “Oh dear, you seem exhausted. Carefully now. Timber!” With another snap a mattress appeared behind the tumbling giant. Just about cushioning his fall before she placed a blanket over his body, “Rest now, Herb. I’ll be on my way, too~”

No way in hell was she going to stop until she found Mark.

“Wanda! Would you like me to-HMPH!” A woman from the bank tried to start talking before the heroine rammed an unexpected dildo into her throat.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Wanda winked as she scurried past.

The man who had previously been a wanking clock was now back to the same position, but with a petite blonde open mouthed in front of his thumping fist, “C-come get bukkaked!” He barked at Wanda as she crept along. But after a quick snap of her fingers, he found he was unloading himself down the throat of girl instead.

“Looks like there isn’t room for me this time!”

With the rule of thirds in effect, Wanda also had to walk past a man and a woman just lying on the floor together, “Wanna snuggle with us? WOAH!”

Not leaving anything to chance, another snap found the brunette bombshell climbing aboard the older ex-clown and rapidly pumping his cock until he was hard enough to fuck again. An almost desperation to the woman’s movements as she gyrated on the man’s belly.

“Looks like that seat’s taken, but have fun making more children!”

Surely it had to be soon? How many more gags could Wanda come up with to get through this damned orgy?!

Her struggle was rewarded soon enough, as she reached the very end of the field to find her prize.

Surrounded by about eight women, all of which trying to find a place to worship the man that was currently plowing into someone from above, was the man she’d spent so long trying to find again. Something about the way he hammered his hips, glistening in the gray summer sunlight, Wanda knew. She just knew that was the Mark she thought she’d lost all those years ago in the battle against Ultron. It was like he had never aged a day, all her memories of him being strangely overrun with this version of him, even if she knew that was impossible.

But then, nothing was impossible really, when you were Mark…

“Mark? Everything okay? You’ve barely touched my famous potato salad!”

“Yeah… I’m fine, Ms. Maximoff.”

If he had to admit it, he wasn’t particularly hungry. But to risk another red tentacle wrapping around his neck, Mark decided to go with the flow and eat the potato. Tasting exactly like nothing. Just nothing. Either he’d lost his sense of taste or this place wasn’t really real at all. Honestly eating something that tasted like nothing was tough, as his brain needed to **** down the invisible lump, but eventually it happened.

No one else was having these issues. The other two Wandas were eating away happily, moaning and complimenting the chef as they calmly ate their dinner. Same with the three boys, though ‘daddy Vision’ was stoically smiling as he ate rather than making any noise about it…

…the more Mark stared, the more it almost looked like Vision’s face was fading completely. A blur across mechano-man’s features that made Mark uncomfortable.

The whole event was just weird. A bizarre forcing of traditional values that Mark could never stand. He’d much rather be fucking his mom on the kitchen table while using her tits as a plate while his dad begs him to do so, rather than sit down and be ‘normal’. What had being normal ever done for anyone in any universe?

“You can still call me, Wanda.” She smiled as only a mother could. “I know we haven’t seen each other for a while, but I do value you coming to visit us. Isn’t it nice to see Uncle Mark, kids?”

The three youngest at the table all clapped and cheered, “Yaaayyyy! Uncle Mark! Uncle Mark!”

“Hmm?” He asked, unsure why their words were getting muffled in their mouths like that. Censoring them in real time. “Uhh, yeah, good to see you too, kids.” He nodded as they returned to their food. With a shake he went back to Wanda to just be direct with her, “So… from what I know about you, this is what you want the most from the future?”

“You always had a knack for looking right through my silliness. I suppose it makes sense…” She wistfully sighed, looking over to her blur of a husband with a slight sadness, “I was so sure of that face before you came back, Mark. A lovely dream of a magic girl with her amazing robotic husband. But…”

Mark got to see in real time as Vision faded away completely. Only a featureless man sat at the end of the table now, still trying to eat its turkey with no mouth to feed.

“Now I’m not sure who I really want sitting across from me…”

It was in the blur, not fully formed yet, but Mark could recognize his own face even through it all. A smile on his slightly older features as he apparently rocked the sweater vest.

“Huh…” He mumbled, looking from there to the two little kids he still hadn’t gotten the names of, “so… that would make you guys… mine?” Even after spending all that time in breeding central Markanda, he hadn’t really twigged the chance he would be having his own kids at some point.

“Daddy Mark! Daddy Mark!”

He just frowned at the development, “Hmm… well, that’s fine with me. I’ll breed you, or whatever. Do you want to go for more right now?”

“Mark, that’s sweet, But…”

“But this place, whatever it is, isn’t real.” He surmised for you, “I figured that out a while back. Thing is, I have no idea how to escape here. Do you?”

She looked over at the table, over at her other selves, but none seemed to truly know.

He began muttering under his breath, “Yeah, didn’t think so. I’ve had a lot of ‘I could be stuck here forever’ the last few months, and as always I may as well just get comfortable and fucking enjoy myself.” He sighed while standing from his chair, casually walking over to the MILF fantasy and standing behind her, “Do you want a massage, ma’am? You probably worked so hard on cooking this meal for us.”

“Oh, well that is very nice of you, Mark. Certainly, a massage sounds wonderful.”

“Great.” He remarked, happy that whatever level of trust he was on with her gave him a free excuse to feel away. Fingers on her nape, rubbing along the sides of her smooth neck, at least his sense of touch hadn’t been removed too. And making her want to answer his questions was always a good start. “So, you wanna be a mom?”

“I grew up believing the American family unit was the ideal way to live.” She admitted, “TV can really sway a developing mind. But… perhaps it is also a way to get back what I lost back in Sokovia.”

“Yeah yeah,” He said, not really aiming for therapy time lest his empathy gland restart, “Do you think you’ll be a good mom?”

“No.” Her response was immediate and depressing, “**** and destruction follow behind me like a curse. But I will try and be the best I can be.”

With a nod he pushed further into her mind, also making it acceptable for him to at least squeeze her massive soft tits for the massage. “I can help you. As the expert mom haver, having four moms before you, I can tell you what it means to be a great mom.”

“Oh Mark, that would be incredible…” She moaned as his hands groped her deeply.

“You just have to be like my second mom, Sue Storm. A real blonde stunner of a woman.” He made sure to add as many protections to keep her mind pliable and open, “As soon as I was an adult, she treated me like it. A loving mother that wanted nothing more than to suck and fuck her son’s big cock every day. As soon as you’re deemed a MILF that is what you become, moms want to just be the sluttiest, perverse, broodmares. It doesn’t matter to them if it’s their son, brother, husband, or arch villain. If they have a big dick that won’t quit, then you’d want to worship it until it shoots its load upon you and you get pregnant all over again.”

Her molded mind just let it all sink in, hooked on every word of his lies that permeated her brain. “I… I… you’re right.”

Mark barely had time to look up before the chintzy reality he’d been placed in was torn into a perverse masterpiece.

There were no more kids at the table. Both the kids and the kid version of Wanda had grown up into fully developed adults in mere seconds. The new dream of getting fucked by her big dicked kids translating to both other adult Wandas getting bent over the table and fucked hard. Moans echoed against the walls, with big smiles on the two sons that mimicked Mark’s own hearty grin. Almost as if he’d been cloned twice to fuck the nude Avengers.

“Breeding… breeding is the most important part of being a mother. How could I have not seen it before? I have to fertilize my eggs as much and as often as possible…” The older Wanda was panting now at her own horniness, “How could the robot ever be at the end of the table? My dream has always been sucking that big Sokovian dick to make me balloon up again and again…”

Daddy Mark stood loud and proud on the table, having grown in height as well. Naked, dick swinging like a wrecking ball, the massive man marched towards his woman with desire and need. Vision had returned, but now sat meekly in the corner with a cage over his crotch.

“Hell yeah it is,” Mark grinned at his work. Now all he had to do to live his life happily here was make this woman his mommy-wife too and-

“Sorry, Mark. But you don’t belong here. You need to go out there and make my dream real.”

Only seeing a flash of red in her eyes, Mark was suddenly and violently ejected from Wanda’s brain.