Psylocke joins the fold

The holographic video feed winked off with a click.

The men and women in the establishment blinked, as if suddenly waking from a trance. She felt their annoyance and frustration rise as they demanded to know what was going on.

Betsy tensed as a shimmering red oval tore itself into existence in the restaurant.

The gorgeous violet-haired woman clenched her fists and rose from her seat. Her big tits bounced with the movement, her uniform doing little to constrain their buoyancy. None of the people around her noticed, however, concealed as she was by her Image Inducer.

She yelped when a construct of purest dark red blasted outward from the oval and constricted itself around her body, binding her in place. Shackles formed around her arms and legs while tentacle-like appendages wrapped around her chest, pushing her breasts upwards.

“What the fuck!” she yelled. Instincts honed from years of telekinetic combat soon took over and she lashed out with her powers, scraping against the constructs like a million chisels hammering down at once. The red bindings strained and cracked and with another twisting shear with her ability, she wrenched herself free, shattering her restraints into so many pieces before they faded away along with the red oval.

She gasped and stumbled, trying to get a sense of her bearings

It was then that she noticed that the room had fallen eerily silent and that every Wakandan in the room was staring at her with wide eyes.

“Oh,” she glanced downward, perceiving her own feminine form for the first time since beginning her infiltration of Wakandan society. Quickly, she held her Image Inducer up to inspect it. It sparkled and crackled, seemingly utterly ruined. “Shit.”

Her pulse quickened.

“A foreigner!” a short, fat man shouted. His smallish cock twitched at the view of her and she nearly gagged.

“She must be here to spy on our King! Someone call the Guard!” another man said, brandishing a filled condom threateningly. The sight might have been comedic if not for the utter zeal she felt in his words. In his mind, Mark Williams was his god. There was no question about in the man’s mind, nor any sort of buried consciousness rebelling against the compulsions **** into his psyche. It was as if his entire persona had been erased and replaced with a dark mockery of itself, twisted by the whim of a boy mad with power. The sight both infuriated and saddened her.

Even Betsy hadn’t been so far gone, so utterly fanatic to the Mandarin when he’d enslaved her mentally. Even when the man’s cock was pistoning in and out of her enslaved cunt, his gravelly voice demeaning and taunting her, there had always been a part of her that rebelled. A part that blazed with fury over what had been done to her.

And now it was looking like she’d never get the chance to save any of them. That they’d be forever damned to have their minds and identities slaved to a boy who viewed them as nothing but disposable toys.

Betsy tried to raise Emma and Kurt with her communicator, only to be met with static.

Have they been discovered, too? No, they’d have tried to contact me if that had been the case. Something must be interfering with the communicator’s ability to broadcast into that alternate dimension.

Psylocke growled with frustration. She had a sneaking suspicion that her sudden inability to contact her comrades was related to the strange portal that had appeared out of nowhere.

Who could have produced that? I don’t recall Mark Williams having access to anyone with the ability to create portals through spacetime. Could it be some obscure form of Wakandan technology?

She didn’t dare use her telepathy to contact her teammates for fear of possibly alerting Jean to their position.

That could have easily been me. Fuck it. If we can’t infiltrate Wakanda, the X-Men will attack in ****. I just have to make it back to the Blackbird and I can raise the Mansion from there.

A single nudge with her telepathy was all it took for the crowd around her to lose sight of her. They blinked and shook their heads, instead turning their attention to the area where the holoprojection was supposed to be and demanding to know why it had been shut off.

Betsy drew a shuddering breath as she walked briskly out of the establishment, her prodigious rear jiggling as she moved. It was risky to alter the perceptions of so many minds at once with Jean apparently serving as Mark’s telepathic watchdog, but she had little choice.

The streets outside the watering hole were deserted, but she felt many minds within the buildings that surrounded her. There was an aura of arousal and frustration that billowed off of them in waves.

It doesn’t look like that bar was the only place having issues with watching Mark’s disgusting little show.

Another red oval manifested itself into existence above the street, and this time she didn’t wait for the strange constructs to trap her again.

She reached out with her telekinesis and hurled a parked Wakandan passenger vehicle at the portal. It crashed into the constructs as they streamed through the red hole, dismissing them utterly. She caught a flash of frustration from the portal and couldn’t help but smirk as it winked shut.

She pushed off with her feet, her toned thighs clenching as she launched herself into the air with her telekinesis. She climbed rapidly above the buildings. Luckily, most of the streets in Wakanda were deserted, so there weren’t any onlookers to see her fly. Still, she broadcasted a faint “look elsewhere” compulsion with her telepathy that would her from anyone close enough to see her. Within half an hour, she’d be at the Blackbird assembling a strike **** to take down Mark Williams once and for all. She’d relish putting him in his place, though from the reaction Logan had displayed, she’d have to be quick in going for the kill.

A flash of red light erupted in front of her. She was still within the city limits, but only just barely. A lush jungle stretched across the landscape beyond.

She manifested a psychic katana in her hands. The psionic blade glowed with eldritch purple light.

Two women hovered through the portal. She recognized them immediately.

Jean Grey smirked at Betsy as she hovered in front of her, interposing herself between Betsy and her escape route. She wore a silverish micro-bikini that kept the entirety of her body exposed apart from her nipples and pussy. The redhead was achingly beautiful, and had a voluptuous body to match. Betsy understood why most of the men in the Mansion were enamored with her, even if only on a subconscious level.

Ororo Munroe was like a dark-skinned clone of her friend, a vicious grin on her face as her milky white eyes danced and swirled with electricity. Like Jean she wore a minimalist bikini that left nothing to the imagination. Her big black tits jiggled and swayed as she hovered in a wind current. Thunder rumbled in the skies above as midnight-black clouds blocked the view of the setting sun.

“Jean. Ororo. I was hoping when we next met, we’d do it with your minds freed of Mark Williams’ influence,” Betsy said. She ground her teeth together.

Ororo, I could handle. She has rudimentary psychic shields in place, likely Jean’s doing. But I bet I shatter those defenses with an all-out telepathic **** and knock her ****.

The real danger was Jean Grey. A true master telepath, her abilities exceeded Betsy’s own. As long as she faced her, she could never throw her psychic weight around against people with no natural defense against telepathy.

The only real advantage she had against the two was her years as an assassin for the Mandarin. She knew how to fight against humans and mutants alike, leveraging her varying strengths to punch well above her weight at times. Magneto had a long scar across his back that attested to that fact. Still, this was a fight that didn’t favor her and they all knew it.

“Why would I want to be outside of my master’s influence?” Jean asked, smiling evilly. She licked her lips and mashed her big breasts together. “Haven’t you wondered what it would be like to love someone more than yourself? To have no doubts or questions about your own identity? I can feel the conflict in you, Betsy. You’re still so unsure of yourself after all those months under the Mandarin’s thrall. Wouldn’t you like all of that doubt to go away, to be replaced by certitude? By love?”

Betsy glared at her, arms trembling with anger and fear.

“Don't compare yourself to me. You had Scott. You loved each other. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Why can’t you see that Mark has destroyed everything you cared for?!”

“That’s where you're wrong, Betsy,” Ororo said, her normally rich, friendly voice tinged and corrupted by something vile. It almost made her weep at the frustration of her helplessness to save her. “The people we knew before we met Mark no longer matter the same way they used to. I used to have doubts, Betsy. Such crushing anxiety that could overwhelm me even at the best of times. I was so afraid to love another man after T’Challa abandoned me, but thanks to Mark I never have to worry about that again.”

The platinum haired black woman grinned and continued, “It’s true that Mark used his mind control abilities to change me, but that’s what I love about him the most. He saved me from myself.”

Jean smiled, emerald eyes glowing fondly.

“Me too,” she said. “Betsy, I loved Scott. I still do, in a way. But he never filled the void in me that’s existed since the **** of my parents. I love Mark. I love him so much it makes my heart ache. He made me feel whole again.”

“B-but those are just compulsions he’s put into your head. He’s just using you, twisting you into something you’re not. You’re a telepath, Jean. Why can’t you see that Mark’s evil?” Betsy said desperately. She channeled a current of telekinetic energy behind her. It took the form of a spring set to launch her past the two women who barred her escape.

Jean shook her head pityingly. “Mark isn’t the Mandarin, Betsy.”

Psylocke sneered.

“No,” she clenched her fists. “He’s worse.”

She launched herself towards them with a deafening crack of telekinetic ****. A gale of wind rushed up to meet her. She tried to plow through, but was pushed downward, smashing into a dark amber Wakandan building, tearing apart the upper floors with a low crunch.

Her telekinetic shields held and she once again launched herself into the sky.

She felt a lance of debilitating mental energy strike against her telepathic defenses. She answered by grabbing pieces of debris from the building and launching them at Jean and Ororo.

The metal debris glanced off of Jean’s own shield and stopped before they even reached Ororo, buffeted by winds strong enough to eclipse a hurricane.

“Argh,” she growled in frustration and took off towards the jungle, where the Blackbird waited.

Strong winds buffeted against her, slowing her down immensely.

“God dammit,” she drew harder upon her abilities and started to move again, if only barely. Then Jean Grey hovered in front of her from above, the winds ignoring her utterly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Betsy. Surrender now and I won’t be **** to do something we’ll both regret,” the redhead said, her voice somehow completely clear over the unrelenting howl of the wind.

“Fuck you,” she spat, not even hearing her own voice.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jean said, and suddenly a telekinetic strike smashed down against her barriers, forcing her towards the ground.

She screamed as she crashed into another building, toppling it around her as she broke through floor after floor, eventually landing at the ground floor with a crack. She felt the supports of the building give way and with a heavy metallic groan, the structure collapsed outward, filling the streets with rubble.

Betsy felt pain everywhere. The upper part of her outfit was torn, exposing her big tits to the world. She stood on shaky legs.

Jean and Ororo hovered downward.

She glared up at them.

Ororo smirked. “It’s over, Betsy. Just surrender. With your looks and powerset, Mark will surely make you one of his wives, just like us. You’ll never want for love again.”

“I’d rather die,” Betsy said.

Betsy heard a whooshing sound from behind her and she felt herself sail across the debris field, crashing into the wall of a building on the other side of the street. She heard her telekinetic barriers fade with a low crackle. She tried to push herself up, but a telekinetic grip manifested itself around her chest, anchoring her to the building.

Shit!

Betsy looked up and saw Cyclops approaching, hand on his ocular blaster. He wore a set of thick silverish armor that could only have been vibranium.

“Psylocke has been incapacitated, my Lord,” Scott said.

“Good work, Scott. That was a really nice shot,” another voice sounded, and for the first time she saw Mark Williams in the flesh.

He wasn’t entirely naked. He’d donned a pair of sophisticated looking boots and a dark black robe that flowed out behind him in waves.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Scott bowed deferentially to a boy several years his junior and stepped aside.

Jean and Ororo fell in step beside their master as he approached her. Both women had satisfied grins on their faces. Their smiles grew when Mark reached a hand behind them to squeeze their asses. The women molded their voluptuous bodies against him and moaned appreciatively.

“Mm. Yes. Grab my ass in front of Scott,” Jean purred.

Betsy felt like she needed to hurl.

It was only when Mark stood directly in front of her that she noticed how little his robe concealed. Her eyes drank in his toned chest before falling to his big, fat cock. It twitched and wobbled, and she couldn’t help but follow it with her eyes.

“It's impressive, isn’t it?” Ororo’s accented voice broke her out of her trance. She glanced upward to find the woman staring at her with hazel eyes that glimmered mischievously.

“I’ll cut it off if you bring it anywhere closer to me,” Betsy seethed. She tried desperately to shake Jean’s telekinetic hold over her, to no avail.

Dammit.

She reached out with her telepathy, only to immediately slam into psychic barriers erected by Jean.

Mark crouched down in front of her to look her in the eye. Mercifully, he didn’t touch her. Her mind was still hers.

Not like this. Please God, not like this.

“You know, I was surprised when Wanda told me that you were here. I never imagined how hot you’d be in the flesh, though,” he smiled at her as his eyes roved over her breasts.

“Wanda?” she asked. Images of the red portals and the constructs streamed across her mind. Her eyes widened.

“Yep. Turns out Scarlet Witch was brainwashed to serve Magneto. She was very grateful to me when I freed her,” he said. “She’ll be instrumental in conquering the Institute.”

She struggled against her invisible binds again.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said. He grasped her breasts in his hands.

No!

Betsy did what she could to fortify her mind, preparing for a psychic ****.

He can’t get to me if I concentrate. I just have to - Oh, that feels really good. I hope he doesn’t stop. Why was I worried about him touching me again? Oh yeah, he can control people by touching them. But what’s so bad about that? Actually, I think it’s amazing that he can control people just by touching them. He’s such a handsome guy. I’d really like to let him fuck me. Maybe he’ll screw with my brain while he screws me. That’d be awesome. The X-Men have to serve him, though, so I have to help him enslave all of them. It just makes sense. Everything Mark does makes sense. He’s my Master, after all.

When Mark stopped groping her breasts, she pouted.

“Master, why’d you stop? That felt really good,” she bit her lip. Her pussy gushed at the view of her Master. He was so hot. She just wanted him to bend her over and fuck her. She couldn’t believe she’d been so against him mere moments ago.

“Oh, well I guess I have to keep going then. Can’t let my **** go without my touch,” Mark said. She loved the way his voice sounded and her heart soared when his perfect hands found her breasts again.

I have to tell him about the people I came here with.

“Emma Frost and Nightcrawler are waiting at the outskirts of Wakanda. They were supposed to be my extraction when my infiltration mission against you was complete. I’m so sorry for spying on you, by the way,” she said.

“No big deal,” he grinned at her. “If you hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t have gotten to enslave you today.”

“Hm. Then I guess it all worked out in the end, Master,” she moaned when he tweaked her nipples.