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Avengers 64 Wasp Meets Wonder Man

Avengers 64 Wasp Meets Wonder Man

by entonbrown
20 min read
4.5 (1900 views)
adultfiction
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AVENGERS '64: THE WASP meets WONDER MAN!

By kentonbrownsuperstoner

Open of course like classic Silver Age, with a big splash page. And on that splash page there would be only one image, that of the original Wonder Man's big cock stretching open the pink labia of one Janet Van Dyne. A slender, deliciously-nude young lady better known as...

... The Wasp!

Even the cunt of socialite Janet Van Dyne is delicate and pink and perfectly groomed. It is the 1960s, but she is a pioneer: her soft brown muff is trimmed short and she's freshly waxed around her lips. Her labia are red and swollen, stretching around the massive member of Wonder Man. Her clitoris is red and peeking up from her hood.

In this one, giant, page-sized panel, she is not recognizable as a superhero, but she could be mistaken for a supermodel, a superstar, or a superwhore.

Turning the page, Janet a/k/a The Wasp is full size, that is human size, so no wings, just fine, toned white skin. She is the petite human size of a trim, athletic woman possessing wealth and privilege and fine bone structure and even finer proportions. Her luscious brown eyes are wet with longing and pleasure, as she feels a stretch of the kind that the famous Hank Pym has never really given her. And no doubt why. Wonder Man's veiny, girthy shaft has now plundered her depths, hitting places and touching her in ways that Hank as Ant-Man would have had better luck shrinking and getting inside of her in order to reach; spaces which Hank's now comically-oversized member in his new, Giant-Man identity, had no chance of ever getting at.

Studying and working with genius scientist Hank, Janet developed the ability to shrink down to become a Wasp-sized human, a subtle irony giving her white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant heritage, going back to the original Dutch colonists. Some experiments with wasp-DNA, to train her nervous system to control the transformations, resulted in the wasp-wings that sprouted from the wasp-sized Janet's sensuous back, like a human Tinkerbell.

Hank had originally conquered the miniaturization and regrowth through chemical engineering and the original pills that he shared with Janet, his proper and public girlfriend. As the technology progressed beyond Hank needing chems to achieve his transformations, Hank also, after a long period of perfecting the shrinking tech, finally perfected the growth tech. Tired of becoming Ant-Man all the time, Hank over compensated with a giant-size Giant-Man that towered over Iron Man, Thor, and, most importantly, The Hulk.

Hank had been strongly encouraged by Tony Stark and his bodyguard (and Hank's fellow Avenger), Iron Man, in the pursuit of "The Giant-Man Project." Iron Man was always terrified of The Hulk rampaging, since that was what necessitated the formation of the Avengers in the first place the prior year. Eventually, when Hank as his new and perfected Giant-Man self finally met The Hulk again, Hank rejoiced to see himself towering over the Green Goliath.

"Hmmmm..." Hank thought, looking at the approaching Hulk, remembering his approaching opponent's nicknames along with his grave reputation. "Goliath, that's a good name..."

But ultimately, despite the considerable size ands reach advantage, Hank never received a harder beating in his life than he did as Giant-Man that day from The Hulk, who was barely even trying.

So that would ultimately necessitate Hank having to try yet another version of the large-size strong hero role, as the more-refined Goliath in the Spring of '66. But in the Spring of '64, Janet was already disappointed with her long-steady boyfriend's listening to Iron Man and buying in to Iron Man's paranoia over The Hulk.

Captain America advocated not for planning for "the monster," but to figure out ways to reach "the man, he's an American like you or me, and we know deep down he is a Patriot, we know he loves his country."

"Hulk only loves smash," The Wasp chimed in and everyone laughed.

But science was strong then and Hank Pym and Tony Stark together seemed like they invented new science on the regular.

Janet's problems with Hank as Giant-Man was not the science. Janet believed in the power of the future and the optimism of tomorrow like they all did. Janet loved the Avengers because they were none of them fatalistic in any way, despite the stakes they played for and kept playing for, despite the chances they kept taking and the bruises they kept taking.

Janet's problems with Giant-Man involved the execution of the science. Hank at this size was puffed and stretched beyond recognition. As odd as the gigantic Thor or the even larger Hulk or the amazing Iron Man were, as odd as those weird Fantastic Four people were, as strange was the defrosted Captain America, there was still something close to the human about all of them. At this size, Hank was like some old gigantic, greek colossal statue come to life. He looked cartoonish, unreal.

Her problem was not even how the stretched size that Hank achieved resulted in some serious physical problems for him. Hank's tech merely inflated everything to giant-size, bursting up to nearly ten feet tall. Gaining hundreds of pounds of weight, many floors could not hold him. But that was not the worst of his difficulties. The shape and size and wiring of the organs in the human body were not customized for the larger bone-mass and oxygen needs of such an exponential growth in the body's physical carrying costs. Hank could easily become winded, and his agility was nothing near what it was when he had been Ant-Man.

The lesser oxygen seemed to make Hank as Giant-Man somewhat stupider than before, like his brain was now more focused on giving and taking (mostly taking) punches with enemies. And that too would have been fine with Janet. She had enjoyed the slightly clueless but totally buff hunk before in her life, more than once and not just during college.

She would have loved Hank as Giant-Man as her totally buff but clueless dull hunk.

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She would have loved Hank even enlarging his penis beyond the below-average original to even simply average or above-average, as part of the Giant-Man growth. But becoming Giant-Man, becoming nearly ten feet tall and exactly as proportioned as before, took not only the size of Hank's hands and chest and thighs and feet to gargantuan lengths.

That instant growth was also distributed to his penis, and as soon as normal, lovable, autistically preppy sweetheart Hank Pym became Giant-Man, his penis went from modest but usable, to cartoonishly, comically oversized. Try as she might, and try as she did, not Janet's two hands together, and certainly not her mouth, certainly not her pussy, and certainly not her anus, could even accommodate Hank's oversized member to envelope him fully in any way anymore.

No matter how much lubrication they applied.

He was as long as her leg and as thick around as her calf, and there was nothing appealing to her about something so silly. So heavy it was now, she joked with him that he should use this on less-super-powered enemies. "Like, you just need to stun their human assistant or their civilian helper, don't want to cripple them with your Giant-punches." But Hank, now horny and trying to get some with his long-steady girlfriend, said he did not think that a good idea.

When any type of insertion or penetration or even handjob failed, Janet let Hank jerk himself off over her. But that lack of oxygen was complicated by an overburdened circulatory system as well, and getting Giant-Man to full mast, something that alcohol would regularly frustrate in normal-sized Hank Pym also, was a losing proposition the first time they tried. And the second. And the third. But eventually, it worked. Once. And that held them both for awhile together. Hank's cum was rancid, bitter and oddly chemical, like the Giant-Man tech was everywhere in his system.

"I don't think this is safe to ingest," Janet sadly had to tell her man. "Cutting-edge science, but maybe not fit for human consumption."

"You're not human, you're The Wasp," Hank replied, Giant-Man slow.

"Shhh," said Janet. "'I'm still trying to keep this identify secret, baby."

"Oh, okay. I'm Giant-Man," Hank said, and Janet smiled and agreed and they cuddled while the last of Hank's soft chubb faded away.

When it did but before she left for her place, Janet rode Giant-Man's face and rode his big soft bone like a pillow-humper, so as not to make her boyfriend feel neglected, to try to incorporate his log-like penis somehow in her vaginal pleasure. But riding his face was what made her come.

Everyone affiliated with The Avengers had been acting like the project was a success but Janet immediately knew differently.

Yet it still might not have been a problem in their long-steady relationship, had Hank been able to change back instantly all of the time.

But the longer Hank stayed Giant-Man, the longer he kept getting stuck that ginormous size and that ginormous weight.

And thus, the longer Janet had to go without proper satisfaction.

And thus, the easier it was for the hunky Wonder Man to answer her need for a man to "take a hungry little gal out to dinner tonight," after her boringly studious boyfriend was using his time back in his Hank Pym form to spend it in the lab instead of with her.

So on Wonder Man's cock, Janet is pink and crimson and stretched like she was Reed Richards's sister. Her clit is flush against Wonder Man's shaft. Her usually perfect Jackie-Kennedy-updo is down and in disarray from the deep dicking she's receiving courtesy of The Avengers' newest discovery. Her eyes and face show how much she is loving that deep dicking indeed.

"Oh Wonder Man, pound me with that wonder cock," her text bubble could read.

Or maybe it reads nothing, because the constant sensations on her clit and on her g-spot, and at every other nerve ending inside her overburdened cunt, right up to and sometimes including her cervix, mix pleasure with the right amount of pain that the pleasure soothes and which the pain proves is worth it.

Maybe there's a thought bubble. Maybe she does think about Hank, maybe she thinks that "He's hitting spots that my little boyfriend Ant-Man could never reach," maybe she thinks that "I deserve this after how Hank has ignored me for so long," maybe she thinks that it feels amazing to have sex again after so many, many months of vaginal celibacy with Hank and his useless, oversized Giant-Man cock; so that opening herself up to someone so well-endowed after such a long hiatus feels both like a challenge and a special treat.

Because she does think all of those thoughts while she opens her thighs and opens her cunt for this handsome, superpowered stranger. Mostly, though, she just moans and drools and feels his dick making her feel not at all like The Wasp, not at all like a superheroine, not at all like an Avenger, and instead making her feel every inch a greedy bitch of a woman, hungry and needy for cock, big, girl-stretching cock, inside her now and forever.

If there was a moment after which Janet Van Dyne considered herself a size queen, some point during those first minutes with Wonder Man and his endowment, was that moment.

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But then on that second page, the readers would get another angle of Janet Van Dyne being a greedy cockhound: the women who was The Wasp was up on all fours, getting done from behind by the big hunk of superhero that was the nearly-nude Wonder Man. Beefy, hairy, manly and strong. His hands holding Janet by her wasp-waist and plowing her like a man fresh out of prison.

Which, though she had no idea, he kinda was.

Nude was Wonder Man as he pounded his beautiful conquest, nude but for the headgear and eye blinders he said he had to wear because of some sensitivity to light, a painful side effect from what the evil superscientist Zemo had done to him.

The look on Janet's face showing that she did not care what he wore while he did her from behind. The look on her face showing that the glamorous, wealthy superheroine was in cock heaven. The colors on the page would drip pleasure and the inks would drip lust.

Then would be revealed that Wonder Man and The Wasp are not alone here in Janet's glamorous penthouse apartment atop New York's Fifth Avenue.

Across the room, playing with herself while she watched, was none other than Jane Foster. Tasting herself off her own fingers, she rises from the delicate chair belonging to Janet's makeup table, and crosses to the fucking superpowered lovers. "You know, honey," Jane says to Janet, Jane shaking her hips and tossing her flipped, brown, bobbed hair as she approaches the bed. "You can't have this big fella all to yourself. Like we did in nursing school, when there's one cute young resident physician on the ward, we've all got to share, sister." Jane bends down to Janet's open mouth, Janet struggling to catch her breath from the fucking she's receiving from the strange new supe, but smiling at hearing Jane's words. Then she feels Jane's lips on hers and pushes back, returning the kiss while Wonder Man keeps up his assault on her cervix, and when Jane slips her wily tongue into The Wasp's mouth, Janet opens wide and submissive for the assertive Jane, as wide and submissive as her cunt has been opened by this exciting new man and his exciting new cock.

Of course, Janet has no idea at all how new he and his cock really are.

But, those secrets can be revealed. At the bottom of the second page, as Jane Foster slips into a full-on threesome with Wonder Man and The Wasp, becoming one of the first and best true superhero groupies of the 1960s, a flashback would be teased...

... and at the top of the third page, the flashback would begin. A threesome would be happening all right, two girls and one guy, but it would be happening on a stag film and Simon Williams would be watching it. Simon Williams thought the closest he would be getting to a three-way in 1964 would be watching them on film. He had no idea how wrong he would be.

He's at a stag party, a bachelor party for a friend. There's a lot of drinking. He used to be a happy drunk and everyone there remembers him as a happy drunk. The guy who picked up so many tabs. Who treated so many rounds. If you needed five bucks or twenty bucks or a hundred bucks to borrow, Simon was the guy. His ideas were rolling him in the dough, everyone knew it. Technical know-how and execution and some key patents that had gotten him hired by the Big T-S himself.

"Hey, Si, what's Tony Stark really like?" they would ask him. But at the stag party, the guys who don't know what's happened to Simon, ask him about that Tony Stark. "Hey, does he really drink as much as they say he does?"

"I'll tell you about Tony Stark" Simon says turning sour. "Bastard stole from me. Gave me a small stipend at Stark HQ because I was getting so much off my patents. Not a huge amount from the patents, but enough to live decently off of while I kept working. The stipend was bupkis mostly. Mostly cheap lab space on a low floor and access to the Inventor's Washroom. He's got lots of guys knocking around there, engineers and the like, but you don't really meet them. But six months ago, suddenly, my patent checks stopped coming. I called up my lawyer and he said Stark HQ had not renewed the licenses, and that my patents were no longer in use in their products. And I thought that's nuts, because those patents are in something so hush hush, so top secret, I can't even talk about no matter how liquored up I get, but I know they gotta have my patents in their top secret stuff. I can tell you that much. Not everything I know but I can tell you that I knew it. My mental state. The lawyers, you get it? So I goes in to see Tony Stark himself, and I goes to see him and he is there and I say what's going on with sixty-seven-eight-nine and forty-six-fifty? Those are the last numbers of the key patents he had been licensing from me and he knows what I'm talking about. And he's all yeah, we don't need them anymore, we made some modifications to the new model and we're using a new technology solution. And I'm all yeah, modifications made based on my existing patents and intellectual property! And Tony grins his grin and shrugs his shoulders and says he's got a meeting he had to get to and I tell him I'll sue and he says you'll never win because you know it's not admissible in any court of law, because of the top secret technology he's using these so-called modifications of my design, he's put them into some new model and now can cut me out. And I can't get access to it and my lawyer will never get access to it, to be able to establish that they're still using my design but not paying me any more. So I tell him, I've worked my whole life for these designs, they were supposed to be my retirement, I'm almost fifty, and then he shrugs and says you did it once you can do it again, and then he buzzes his secretary and the door opens and this pretty blonde lady is all ready to escort me out."

But people don't like his tale of woe at a Stag Party. They wanted to hear about him banging secretaries with Tony Stark, about bending them over the desk and double-teaming them.

Those cute secretaries with their up-dos and their tight pencil skirts and their nylons.

So Simon goes home sad and alone, and wakes up hungover and sad and alone with two months worth of bills piled up inside of his front door. Money he gave to help friends and family is now long gone and cannot be called back. The loans and mortgages he took on anticipation that his patent income would last for at least the low-end of the average lifespan for his type of aeronautical patents, all of those were now more underwater than the rumored Lost City of Atlantis.

It was a few days later that Simon realized, if Tony Stark was going to steal from him, he would steal from Tony Stark.

His stipend and his lab space gave him specialized access to certain rare earth minerals and other industrial-grade small electronic devices. These elements and tools were provided for the resident geniuses to use in building their next, new world-changing invention. Which, would of course be the property of Stark Industries, through a generous profit partnership plan, should any profits need partnering.

The elements and tools provided were high-quality all the way. Minerals and devices that were in high demand in the outside world. The luxuriousness of the lab space and the generousness with which Stark Industries doled out supplies and fulfilled supply requisitions at no cost or charge to the scientist, these were the perks that helped convince Simon Williams, like so many other engineers before him, to sign on with Tony Stark, to ideate in his bullpen.

After he turned to a life of crime, it took Stark Industries three weeks to catch Simon.

Like any genius, he started small, with tiny, high value things that could easily be consumed in experiments and that could easily be smuggled out in a pocket.

Finding customers for the items he smuggled out was more difficult than smuggling out the metals and transistors and diodes that he did exfiltrate. First, he tried other, independent inventors, then he tried machine shops in the wrong parts of town. When each had balked at coming up with the large but fair amount of cash that Simon was demanding so quickly, Simon relented and took less, often selling an entire vial of stolen chemicals for the price it would have commanded per-gram or per-unit.

But ready cash was what he needed, and finally he was getting it by selling from Tony Stark's own endless technological supplies. Simon's desperate and unprofessional criminality finally doing him in. Without a criminal network to draw upon, the formerly honest and upright Simon Williams offered obviously stolen Stark items to an honest and upright friend who thought Simon had every right to be dealing the Stark-branded machine he was unloading. But when the Stark sales rep happened upon that person's own lab for a regular sales call, the sales rep saw the machine which he knew was not commercially available yet, and when the sales rep asked about it, the friend innocently blabbed the name Simon Williams and by that evening, Stark Industries made sure that the New York Police Department were at Simon's door, and that by next morning, Simon was arraigned on charges of embezzlement, his name and story was on the front page of the Daily Gazette, and his complete personal and professional ruin was complete.

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