Scarlet Wars: Episode 3 (Part 4: Through The Looking Glass)

Written in collaboration with Cross C

Vision stood at the edge of sense. Both at the end of his world, and the end of known logic. Any hope that his wife was not responsible for the actions inside this dome was rendered completely moot as he grazed his hand against the red magic he knew so well.

The static. That was new.

Or was it? Vision had so many questions, and so few of them had been answered by his neighbor inhabiting the body of his deceased brother in law. Surprisingly it actually raised further questions. If only his memories weren’t failing him.

Was he really dead? Could the **** of an entire town of innocents really be to create an idyllic effigy of his remains?

Vision didn’t know. But he knew his options. Either he’d find the truth beyond this wall, or he’d be able to contact someone capable of finding it.

He pushed forwards, ignoring all the static, magic, and pain that assaulted him from every angle. Every step was agony, yet worthy of the struggle, as long as he could just find… answers…

“Cast member coming out!”

The air stung.

Vision screamed. He had no skin, yet every fibre of him felt like it was burning. A deep call to return from whence he came, yet he defied that voice.

Sensors indicated humans. Men and women, outside the Hex. They were surrounding him, aiming lights from weapons and vehicles towards his struggle. None came to help, because none knew how to. Only Vision could push through into the real rancid reality that hated him so much.

Near the front line Darcy Lewis was shoving her tablet at the nearest tech as she broke toward the breach.

“We have to do something! He’s coming apart!” she shouted, getting right up in an agent’s face when he tried to block her.

“Ma’am, stand down-”

“Then get out of my way and let someone help him!”

He grabbed her by the arm, yanked her back to the nearest SWORD SUV, and snapped a pair of cuffs around her wrist, clipping them through the front grille so she couldn’t interfere anymore.

“Hey! You can’t just-” Darcy strained against the cuffs, metal biting into her skin as she tilted her head toward the Hex. “Coulson! Do something!”

Coulson had a hard look on his face as he turned her way but Melinda May was already there. She stepped to Darcy’s side without a word, planting herself between the agent and his prisoner, one hand light on the hood, eyes flat and warning. A tiny tilt of her head told Coulson: I’ve got her.

“He really wants out, doesn’t he?” commented Hayward with a tone and expression of a man studying a butterfly pinned to a board.

Through all the noise, Vision could feel one man approach. Weapon holstered but not discarded. Walking carefully, “Vision? This is Agent Coulson, we met briefly after the battle of Sokovia. Do you remember me?”

His voice was measured but concerned. Elevated heart rate. Had Vision the wherewithal to even stand he may have tried to alleviate those fears. But existence was such pain, and a message had to be shared before the end.

“Agent C-Coulson… help them… help the people…!” static clung to his throat.

“Trust me Vision I want nothing more, but you’re going to need to step back into the Hex immediately. Your body clearly can’t sustain itself right now.”

How much could he know? At least there were brave humans willing to fight. Yet it didn’t feel like Vision had done enough. He wanted–no–needed to help.

“W-Wanda!”

Coulson was closer now, trying to touch Vision’s body while struggling through the static pain that clearly affected them both, “We have live feeds of inside the Hex which means we can hear everything you say. We can figure out ways to communicate, with you inside we may have a chance. But if you die out here then I fear your wife is going to come to us.”

“Let her! I’ll kick that chupo’s ass for what she did to Mark!”

Coulson hissed over his shoulder, “Not the time Miss America. Vision, can you stand?”

He was trying. Damn he was trying.

Vision had to stand.

This was all his fault.

Why did he feel cold?

Emotions were not in his programming…

…yet…

…had it been Stark?

Ultron?

Who had programmed in a desire to look at the real night sky at a time like this…?

As if… it was for the last…

“Graahhh!”

“He’s breaking apart!” warned one of the agents.

Coulson held him, “Vision! Vision stay with me!”

“The Hex! It’s moving!”

The shout rippled across the perimeter of tense agents like a gunshot. Heads snapped up toward the glowing wall behind the android. What had been a stable perimeter line a heartbeat ago was now swelling outward, the red edge of it thickening, gathering itself like it was breathing.

For a fraction of a second, no one moved.

Then the hex erupted forward and all training broke.

“Fall back!” someone screamed.

“Go, go, go!”

Agents and military personnel bolted. Hayward and his closest aides were no exception as chaos suddenly reigned, every man and woman for themselves except for the squad that managed to get in their humvee and gun it in reverse as the ruby red hex-front rushed forth. They broke in every direction, a wave of fleeing bodies and clattering gear, boots tearing up the wet ground.

Coulson didn’t run. He stood his ground beside Vision, a calm center in the storm of panic. He watched the red light approach, his expression a mixture of resolve and weary acceptance. He had people inside and he trusted Wanda. She was an Avenger and a good person in the end.

The Hex washed over them.

May didn’t run. She wasn’t about to abandon Darcy or Phil. Not to mention she’d instantly judged running pointless based on the speed of the onrushing red wave. So she was about to be saddled with (more!) stupid sex idiocy, and she really was not looking forward to it.

Beside her still cuffed to the SUV, Darcy struggled, metal digging into her wrist as she watched the wall advancing.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, half hysterical laugh, half sob.

The Hex washed over them.

Beyond them it swept over the slowest runners like a monumental broom.

An agent felt the hair on the back of his neck lift a split second before the Hex caught him. One heartbeat he was in full tactical gear. The next, everything on him just stopped being there.

He burst out the other side of the red glow absolutely naked, still pumping his legs on pure adrenaline. The leftover momentum made his whole body bounce: chest heaving, his bare ass clenching with each stride, his hairy junk swinging stupidly between his thighs like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the universe had changed.

A glossy black mask snapped over his eyes mid-run.

He stumbled. His sprint stuttered into a jog, then into a slow, bewildered walk. The panic on his face smoothed out behind the mask. His arms drifted from defensive flail to loose, almost formal placement at his sides.

Just beyond him was a plump tech in a hazmat suit, fearfully looking back over her shoulder as the red wave swallowed her. Her helmet, her bulky suit, her boots were all gone in a flash of hot, prickling nothing.

She stumbled out the far side, apple-sized bare breasts bouncing crazily as she kept running on instinct, fat ass cheeks slapping together, thighs slick with cold sweat. A porcelain mask dropped over her upper face, delicate and white, catching the lantern light that hadn’t been there a second earlier.

She took three more pounding, jiggling steps before her body remembered to slow. Her arms, which had been clawing for something to cover herself, fell open. Her shoulders rolled back. Her nipples tightened in the chill, but the shame drained out of her like water spilling away.

She stopped and stood, breathing hard, watching as two other newly naked, newly masked figures sank to their knees on a rug that hadn’t existed moments ago.

Another SWORD agent dove between two trucks as if to take cover but the Hex passed through the obstructions without pause, transfiguring them both into one low, open wooden pavilion, a platform smothered with rugs, cushions, and blankets. Lanterns hung from carved posts at its corners and the man was abruptly in the middle of the structure.

He was also completely naked save for a dark and angular mask trimmed in silver, hairy chested and belly wobbling from his momentum, his dick swinging. He grabbed at empty air where his rifle used to be, then at his chest where his vest had been.

After a moment of wild flailing, his posture settled. His hands dropped behind his back, clasping at the small of it as if they’d always belonged there. His expression, hidden behind the mask but discernible through his eyes, no longer looked harried but stern.

Across from him, a SWORD agent climbed onto his pavilion, helmet gone, hair loose behind a domino mask, tits marked by the faint strap-lines of a bra that no longer existed. Without any apparent instruction, she crawled over to his crotch and took his soft penis into her mouth, fellating rhythmically with a gentle full body bob of her upper body, her hands on her knees.

One moment, a heavy-set national guard sergeant was sprinting full tilt, screaming orders into a radio, his boots tearing up the mud. The next, the red light swallowed him, and the heavy Kevlar, M4 Carbine, and fatigues dissolved instantly into red mist. He stumbled, his momentum carrying him forward, but he was now stark naked. His soft cock swung wildly back and forth, slapping against his thighs with every slowing step, while a Venetian mask materialized over his face. He didn't scream; the panic vanished from his posture, replaced by a sudden, eerie composure as he slowed to a rhythmic, prowling walk.

To his left, a female communications officer was running for her life, hair flying wild. The magic washed over her back, vaporizing her uniform in an instant. Her run faltered into a stagger, and then a pose. Her generous, suddenly bare breasts jiggled heavily with the deceleration, and her exposed, soft butt-cheeks wobbled with the aftershocks of her sprint before she froze in a perfect, statue-still stance. An ornate, feathered masquerade mask covered her eyes, transforming her terror into an enigma.

Across the field, the transformation rippled through the crowd in a giant, choreographed wave. Dozens of agents went from frantically running and clothed to abruptly nude and masked. The air was filled with the surreal sight of bare flesh reacting to physics, tits bouncing, dicks swinging, and glutes shaking, before the magic took hold of their minds and muscles.

They slowed, not as individuals, but as a collective. The shouts died out, replaced by a heavy, charged silence.

The muddy field outside Westview was no longer a staging ground for a military operation; it was the lawn of a secluded country estate hosting a forbidden ritual. The agents, now stripped of rank and name, took their places in the new hierarchy of the Hex.

Meanwhile, twenty minutes ago.

In a normal episode of WandaVision, we would probably never cut directly to the inside of Agnes’ house. As a co-producer of the show, her contract specified that no cameras or plot lines ever take place next door. She’d sold the concept to the writers well, as a ‘nosy neighbour’ character is more interesting if you only ever see her invading the main space, rather than seeing her home life. Only ever hearing about her home and husband gives them an air of mystique.

So you can see how messed up the show’s gotten as we cut directly inside of Agnes’ house.

It was a simple home. Rather similar in design to Wanda’s, with a few extra details that her contract would rather us not explain. Like the various salem symbols carved into the walls, the back door portal to a witch coven circle, and the mind controlled slaves she had standing around in maid and butler outfits. What a shame we can’t mention these items, but we are allowed to say she is lounging on her couch watching TV.

“You know, I’ll never get over-grape,” Agatha ordered mid-sentence, opening her mouth to let the Daisy Johnson next to her pop a peeled grape inside, “Mm. I’ll never get over how easy it was to get an Avenger to break by just making them a little hornier. I mean, we all knew the spandex crowd were perverts but to make two sons to fuck is crazy! Grape.”

Agatha was technically talking to her three slaves in the room, but knew that it was a mostly rhetorical dialogue. Mark hadn’t said anything for a day now except for when she was possessing him, and Natasha was a surprisingly obedient maid.

With a tilt of her head, she through a concerned frown towards her ‘husband’, “I can’t decide if it’s all her fault or yours. I guess it’s both of you. Grape.” Her eyes drifted lazily to her grape feeder, “Mm. That scarlet bitch is certainly the one sending all those ‘horny waves’ out to your poor commanders. They think that it’s the silly TV show that’s making them all riled up, not the fact that Wanda’s radiating libido-increasing magic. Another day sitting outside Wanda’s silly little dome and your friends will be nothing but base desire pleasure monkeys. Ain’t that a hoot and a holler?!”

Daisy nodded, “Yes, mistress.”

“Whatever,” Agatha dismissively grabbed a handful of grapes and greedily fed herself while hopping off the couch, waltzing over to Mark’s stationary body, staring at him intensely with a tight focus, “That’s how it’s going, but I still want to know how it started. Why is she so bloody enamoured with you?”

Mark said nothing.

“Is it really such a misogynistic answer as your stupidly big penis? Is she just a slut that’s been hungry for something other than robo-dick?” asked Agatha, openly molesting the unresponsive body, “It is fun. I hate that I can see the appeal of something so meaty. And when I wear you like a suit… I don’t know what came over me, but that power was intoxicating. Whatever kingly desires are in your DNA make it hard to want to break the possession magic.”

Her eyes went back over to the TV, playing the same movie on repeat it had been all day. The town orgy, with Mark and Wanda as the focal point.

“Can’t believe I went so crazy. Years of planning, and I can’t control a possessed prick?” She hissed, angry at herself more than anything as she glared at the porn, “...she felt fucking good to fuck. Maybe I don’t need to kill her after all…”

Fzt!

“Badadadadadadadadadadadada!”

“We interrupt this showing of ‘Wanda X Mark’ with breaking news! Wanda Maximoff, Vision is in trouble! I repeat, Vision is in big trouble!”

The apparently sentient TV was showing the scene outside of the Hex where Vision’s body was breaking apart. His body surrounded by agents, his soul escaping his body, the light in his eyes dimming. All while big warning signs blared out to alert his wife that another person was trying to cut their love short.

“Ohh! It’s all kicking off now!” Agatha clapped her hands, “It is kinda sad that we don’t get a few more episodes. I would have loved to have trapped that slut in a wall and gone to town on her with Mark's dick, but oh well! Wanda’s definitely going to expand her silly Hex to a point she can’t control it. That’ll be our queue to finalise her dependency on you, and we can siphon all the juicy chaos magic we want! Can I get a ‘Yes, Mistress’?!”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Daisy.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Natasha.

Mark was silent. Staring forward with no expression or motion.

Agatha glared at him, “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“FUCK YOU!”

SLAM! Ker-ASH!

Physical wasn’t something Agatha was always fully prepared for, especially when they were as underhanded as a super speed shoulder tackle from behind. Her body ragdolled into her cabinets, sending glass and splinters shattering across her gaudy carpet.

Standing in the center of the Agnes/Mark home was a yet to be introduced uncle. Pietro (Ralph (Mark)) was spinning around in place, waiting for anyone else to attack him as the bruised man panted, “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this super speed shit…” he hissed, locking onto his target and rushing straight for the empty Mark Williams.

“Let me in!”

Neither Mark nor Ralph showed any sign of change.

The connection powers Mark had inside were not able to be harnessed by Ralph.

“Put me back! Become one again! Mind meld!”

“Daisy! Seize him!”

Mark spun around, watching as a busty maid started charging him down. He wouldn’t be able to tell you how, but he managed to accelerate his brain speed to make it look like she was running in slow motion.

Confused but not foolish, Mark jumped up, rushed forwards, grabbed the back of her garment, and threw the SHIELD agent as hard as he could towards the kitchen.

With her taken care of he attacked Agatha again, socking her hard in the head.

There was only one more goon standing. Still holding a tray of drinks with a blank expression on her face, he rushed towards the one face he recognised bar his own.

“Nat! Nat! Nat!” said the speedy Mark, shaking her shoulders quick enough to make her vibrate and drop her tray, “It’s me, Mark! The real Mark! Come on, help me out!”

There was a moment where it looked like her focus tightened. As if some deep part of her was trying to unlock doors upon doors and find the light.

But then Mark was on the floor in a leg lock.

Even super speed can’t always account for years of red room and SHIELD training. He couldn’t see Natasha’s movements as she pinned him tightly against the floor. Years of weed smoke/masturbation had left Ralph Bohner a pathetic worm comparatively–so even with magical laced super speed–Mark was going nowhere.

“NATASHA!” He yelled, trying to get through to her, both verbally and through their connection, “WAKE UP!”

She said nothing, though her eyes seemed slightly less focused.

Not enough to negate the fact Agatha was looming over him now.

“My my, aren’t you a naughty boy!” the witch cackled, giving him a swift **** kick to the cranium, “So that’s where you’ve been! I thought you were sulking in your own skull, but this tricky little dicky managed to escape into the wild! I’d say I was impressed if you didn’t just run into the lion’s den like an absolute little idiot.”

“Fuck you!” Mark spat back, “Give me back my body!”

“So you can do what? Mind control me into a cock loving slut? Not only are you chauvinistic piece of interdimensional garbage, you are so boring, isn’t he Natasha?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Like you’re any better! At least I never made my girls into robots!”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Mark. I’m just teasing,” She casually scruffed his hair, “I’m a fan, really! This whole affair would have been so much more tedious without your assistance. The wife shtick wore thin on episode one, right?”

Mark tried to push back against the widow on his back but to no avail, “Put me back in my body and I’ll make it much less enjoyable for you.”

“Aww, he’s trying to threaten me! So cute~ I’ll go get the camera and you do it again!”

“What the hell do you even want from me?!” Mark barked, “I never did shit to you!”

“And let me guess, Black Widow was your child bully so that makes it okay to mind control her?” She snapped back. Mark gave her a confused glare, “Oh? So she never did anything to you, but you still took everything from her?”

“I…”

“We’re both villains here, Mark. I’m just doing it with better style~” She giggled, spinning around and letting dark purple magic cascade around her until a full witch’s gown took over the suburban housewife look from before. “But I suppose an explanation is in order. So look, ‘Hubby’, plans changed pretty rapidly since you got here, try to keep up.”

She smiled, clicking her fingers towards the TV, casting an illusion that showed the events as she described them.

“Originally I came to this slice of cascading magic spells on a mission. Wanda seemed powerful, but this gal can always sense an amateur at work. She had spells upon spells, casting mind control, transmutation, illusions at the other side of town! For a novice she was too strong. I needed answers, which is when you came a knocking!” Mark saw from the outside the event of him and Natasha getting dragged into the Hex, “I watched as Wanda brought you in, casually putting the two of you in a house at the edge of town and forgot about you. Didn’t even blink at a fellow Avenger waltzing in. But I knew better. A little subtle magic of my own and I got just enough information I needed from your little head.”

“Perfect mind control from just a touch. You called yourself a ‘Mutant’, whatever that means, and said you wanted Wanda for your own. Why? Well you said it was because you ‘Always thought the Scarlet Witch was a hot piece of ass’.” Her expression soured, a slight twitch in her eye, “Now to me, the Scarlet Witch is a myth. A being far too powerful to exist in a world that doesn’t already fear her. Yet, the more I watched, the more it made sense, she recreated Vision for God’s sake! I admit, old Agatha couldn’t see the forest for the trees there. Clumsy me.”

“You really like hearing yourself talk, huh?”

Agatha smirked, not denying the jab as she continued, “As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t just jump her. Even if I’m far more experienced, between her chaos magic and that husband of hers protecting her I’d get stomped in an instant. So what to do? It felt like so much power just sitting there to siphon for myself, but no way to get to her. Even just getting rid of Vision would be enough, and well, that’s when I decided my plan would be your plan! Just with extra steps.”

“I recast you as my husband and put you to work. I could tell your little rework of Wanda upon entering the Hex had made her more… susceptible to sex. Trust me, a witch knows a thing or two about using sex properly. The more you did it with her, the more she became dependant on you. But when I possessed you, I realised that you didn’t even know the extent of your own powers. Just like Wanda.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Those connections you make, they’re so much stronger than you realise. And can do more than just blanket mind control, if you ever tried to be imaginative with it rather than ‘Oh, Imma big boy with a big dick, do mah bidding’. I’m going to use it to drain Wanda of all her magic and put it into me. You really are such a useful tool~”

“I… I can’t do that.”

“You can, if you’d bothered to learn.” She smirked, “But still, the question remains of who you are.”

Agatha reached down and cupped his face, “When I took over your Wanda controlled mind, you mentioned you came from another world, but you never told me how. You just said ‘America Punch’ over and over again. But now you’re all here, I have to ask, how did you travel dimensions, Mark Williams?”

“Fuck off.” He spat.

“Saucy little boy!” She laughed, wiping the spit from her cheek, “Mark, get him.”

“Wha-?”

Suddenly his scalp was grabbed from above. Mark the mind was totally encompassed by Mark the empty body, surrounded by purple magic. His own voice calling down from above to give him an order.

“Tell her.”

For but a moment Mark fought the control he’d inflicted on so many before him, “GrrAGH! America Chavez! She has the power to punch through dimensions!”

Agatha’s eyes went wide, plans forming in her excited mind. “Ohh~? Well, that is interesting. Very very interesting.” She hummed, tapping her long nails against her smiling cheek, “And is it perfect control like your own?”

“...”

“Mark-”

“Yes, alright?” Mark growled, “But she didn’t come into the Hex with us.”

“No, but I’d make a bet that she’s the one that’s been knocking on the Hex’s door this whole time,” said Agatha, “I used a spell to make sure no one stronger than the average human could enter the Hex. I hoped it would keep that fool Wong and his ward Strange at bay, but I guess I hampered my own progress by not letting that America inside.”

“W-wait! What are you going to do to her?”

Agatha stretched out wide, “Oh, come on, Mark. Even you can figure it out. All I need to do is get your body to finalise its control over Wanda and America and I can siphon all the power I want out of both of them! I’ll have the power to control reality AND swap universes! I’ll be a Goddess!”

“NO!” Mark yelled, trying once more to break Natasha’s hold on his body, “You can’t! Natasha! Let me go! Please! You’re stronger than this!”

Though there was a noticeable twitch in Nat’s eyes, Agatha didn’t notice it. Too busy smugly looming over Mark, “Oh honey. You still think you’re the protagonist? That’s adorable. This whole series needs a shakeup that you just can’t provide anymore. You got outfoxed… Hell, for all we know I’m the ‘Mind Controlling Mutant’ those above are whispering about.”

“What are you fucking talking about?!”

“I may not fully get it myself, but…” her eyes turned towards you, “I’m sure someone out there understands."

After a beat of confusion, she turned her eyes towards the empty Mark shell that was still gripping Ralph’s scalp intensely, “Let’s wrap this up. You know what to say.”

His words were cold and robotic, but imperative to the one that he touched.

“Kill yourself.”

“I…” Mark tried to fight it, use whatever powers he had lying inside of him, but like so many mutants and heroes before him, it was impossible to resist. “I need to kill myself.”

“There ya go! You’re getting it now! Natasha, let him up,” Agatha ordered. Almost immediately when she did, ‘Ralph’ ran straight forwards to slam head first into a wall. The witch clapped as he repeatedly ran around, slamming into various objects at super speed. “Don’t worry, your mind was never really needed in all this. I’ll take care of your body, just like I’ll take care of Lil’ America and Wanda~ Bye-bye now!”

Ralph’s body zoomed out of the door, letting Agatha stretch out in confident victory.

“Well now, what’s the to-do list?” She asked Mark’s empty shell, “Go finalise control over the Scarlet Witch. Trick America into shaking your hand. Take my seat amongst the Gods… did I forget anything?”

She looked around to Daisy Johnson then to… wait.

“Where’d the Black Widow go?”

Wanda had heard the television’s warning.

She’d felt her simulated simulacrum husband in real pain.

Yet it still took her a few minutes to stop her sons from fucking her.

“BOYS! P-PLEASE!” She panted, finding it hard to keep a spell going while her holes were getting pushed and pulled in such euphoric directions, “Y-YOUR FATHER!”

“Oh yeah, we want dad to be saved.”

“But our dicks are just so horny, mommy.”

“You do your spell, we’ll just fill up your holes with cum.”

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

“NO!” She finally roared, using her magic to push them physically out of her and against opposite walls. After panting for a few seconds she glared at them in a way that only mothers can, the kind of way that makes you properly shut up. “Go to your rooms. Now.”

“Yes, mom…” they both droned, doing as they were told.

They were good kids at heart, even if Wanda knew that Billy would use his powers to create a fake bimbo version of herself so the two could continue to get off. It wasn’t the first time she’d found him like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Sitcom shit aside, Wanda had a hazardous hubby in pure precarious peril!

Gathering her strength, she focused her magic. Hands forming around a small red orb right in front of her cum covered chest, she clenched her eyes tightly together and began to expand the orb outwards…

“It’s expanding!”

“Everyone move! Move!”

The magic film that had taken over the town of Westview had been completely stationary until about five seconds ago. A scene that was now playing out from the perspective of America Chavez, watching the chaos unfold. The low hum of Wanda’s Hex began to increase in volume, like a growling beast unleashed upon innocent prey to hunt.

Both SHIELD and SWORD agents panicked, rushing away from the epicenter as quick as they could but to no avail.

First it ate Vision, his simulated body reconstructing immediately upon entering his birth atmosphere.

Then it ate Coulson, May, and Darcy.

Then so many others were eaten as well. Not even Hayward managed to escape in his SUV in this world. Perhaps Wanda had made the Hex’s magic stronger using her Billy’s magic cum, or Hayward was off his game with the underlying horny magic affecting both bases. Either way, he had been eaten all the same.

Only one stood ready to enter the Hex head on rather than run from it. “Finally!” America cheered, cracking her knuckles at the oncoming dome of magic. “I’m coming Mark, just you wait!”

She was so ready to pour herself into that space, seeing so many agents get eaten easily, yet as soon as Wanda’s magic hit her… America was pushed back. Her heels dragged along the muddy grass, not letting her in even an inch.

“What?! No!” She angrily roared, trying to punch herself into the hex but to no avail. Shockwaves strong enough to knock several fleeing agents off their feet where they were promptly slurped up by the magic wall. All her attacks just continued to be repelled by the magic, even as it continued to munch S.H.I.E.L.D. and swallow S.W.O.R.D. “Let me IN, you damn WITCH!”

Nothing. She was pushed back further and further until the Hex began overtaking the nearby bases. One agent was running slow enough that he bumped into America’s back. Stumbling around her and falling into the Hex right beside where she was slamming.

Running out of ideas, America tried to grab onto the outfit of the man that was getting eaten.

And found that the tips of her fingers managed to get through the magic.

“HA! FUUUUCKK!”

It felt like all of her cells were tearing apart. Nothing had hurt this bad since Mark first stretched her cunt out, but this lacked the several layers of pleasure that went with it. The Hex was still rejecting her, but wanted to eat the agent just as much. She could only hold onto the collar of his lab coat, but her grip was fading fast. As if the labcoat was changing material in her hands. Maybe if she could just…

“AMERICA! HELP!”

She turned quickly to see Monica’s panic. Hobbling away on weak legs that still hadn’t fully recovered, her naked butt jiggling about before she suddenly fell to the floor. Looking back with scared eyes to the looming monolith of magic.

Out of everyone here, Monica was the only one that America had any lingering affection for. Well, maybe tits, but she was gone already. It really felt like this would be the time to punch her way into the dome… but seeing the horror in Monica’s eyes, America peeled away from her progress to swoop Monica from the ground and fly them both up into the sky.

The two ladies kept their distance from the Hex, soaring about a mile above it even as it continued to expand. Both SWORD and SHIELD were completely consumed by the Hex without anything either woman could do about it.

“W-what now…?” asked Monica, still shaking in America’s arms.

“I don’t know,” America replied, grinding her teeth in utter frustration. “But I think I know a way for me to get into the Hex.”