Sensational Sluts Pt 03

Sue Richards stepped out of the blacked-out SUV and stared up at the pulsing neon sign like it had personally insulted her. She read it aloud to herself in disgust.

"THE VIXEN'S DEN. Open late. Stay later. Ugh."

The air stank of cigarettes, spilled booze, and desperation. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm wailed. Typical Manhattan hellscape. Just being this close to the club felt instantly oppressive to her. She tugged her long coat tighter around her shoulders, covering herself as much as she could. Her unstable molecule jumpsuit might have protected her from all sorts, but Reed's functional approach did little to hide her ample figure. It was one thing to be on show in the heat of battle when no-one was looking at her, but the sort of perverts who frequented this club definitely would be looking.

If the outside was bad, the inside was worse.

The bass hit her first, low and obscene, rattling her ribs. Then the heat. Then the smell. Perfume and sweat and sex, thick enough to choke on. Sue pushed through the door, boots sticking to the tacky surface of the floor, jaw clenched tight as she scanned the room. She had one goal: find Rogue and Harley and get them back to the Baxter Building for treatment and/or detox. If she knew Rogue, her keen tactical mind would have pushed her to blend in - perhaps sneak into a back room where they could hide out - without comms she was sure she was going to have to look hard to find them.

And then she saw them.

Centre stage. Under a wash of pink and violet lights. Rogue and Harley Quinn - or whatever was left of them - grinding against each other like pornstars in heat. Glitter clung to their skin like it belonged there. Their outfits were nothing. Straps and scraps and smiles. Tits bouncing. Asses shaking. Moaning into each other's mouths like some common sluts.

Harley straddled Rogue's thigh, tongue out, hips rolling like she was trying to use her whole body like a dildo. Rogue just leaned back and let her, eyes half-lidded, mouth open, hair soaked with sweat, moaning in a state of semi-orgasmic bliss.

Sue's gut twisted. Not from the vulgarity - she'd seen plenty worse - but from the way it was happening. They weren't even putting on a show. They were just gone. Sinister's bimbo virus was eating them alive from the inside out - and making them love every second of it.

Sue stepped forward, pulling a small device from her coat pocket. A containment field generator. Light touch. No fuss. She keyed it to Rogue's mutant signature and locked it in.

"Rogue. Harley," she called, voice cutting through the music like glass. "We need to leave. Now."

They didn't even turn around.

Rogue just moaned and pulled Harley closer, grinding against her harder. Harley laughed - high, breathy, fucked-out - and threw her head back, tits bouncing as she rode Rogue's thigh like it owed her money.

Sue gritted her teeth. Fine. No asking nicely.

She hit the switch.

The containment pulse shimmered across the stage - barely visible, but enough. Rogue's body seized for half a second before she collapsed, gasping, onto her back. Harley blinked like she'd been smacked, then slumped over her, still moaning softly.

The crowd roared with disapproval but Sue was already moving. Up the side stairs, past the gawking punters, onto the stage. She dropped to her knees beside Rogue and scanned her with a handheld monitor. Vital signs elevated. Adrenaline, oxytocin, dopamine - all spiked through the roof. Brainwave patterns erratic.

"Still with me?" Sue asked, brushing a sweat-slick lock of white hair from Rogue's cheek.

Rogue blinked up at her, dazed. "Sue? That you?"

"Yeah, honey. You called for help. I'm here to get you out."

Rogue laughed, low and cracked. "Ah fucked Harley in front of a hundred people."

Sue smiled grimly. "I noticed."

Harley stirred, eyes glassy. "Oooh, if it ain't Mrs. Fantastic. Wanna join in?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "God help me."

Levitating them both with her forcefields, Sue threw both Rogue and Harley over her shoulders and headed for a side door. The manager tried to stop her - some oily creep in a too-tight suit who probably thought he was the next Hugh Hefner. Sue flashed her credentials with a hard stare. He backed off quick.

She got them into a private room upstairs - velvet curtains, gold poles, a faint stench of lube and body spray clinging to the furniture. A low couch lined the wall, big enough for three. She locked the door behind them and took a breath. It didn't help.

Rogue flopped onto the couch, legs spread, tits barely contained by her bikini. Harley collapsed beside her, head in her lap, giggling like a schoolgirl. Their skin still glistened, hot and damp, their bodies flushed with leftover arousal.

Sue stayed standing. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Professional to the bone.

"This is a temporary containment," she said. "We'll get you out of here and back to the Baxter Building. Reed's prepping a decontamination protocol."

But neither of them were listening.

Rogue licked her lips, slow and deliberate. "You look good in that coat, Sue," she drawled. "Bet you look even better outta it."

Harley giggled, sitting up and crawling across the couch toward her. "You always this bossy? It's hot."

"Sit down," Sue warned.

Harley pouted - then knelt in front of her instead. "Make me."

Sue should've zapped her. Should've thrown up a field and ended this now. But something ached inside her - low and shameful. The virus in the air, maybe. Or just the way Rogue was looking at her, pupils blown, lips parted, knees spreading wider like she was begging for attention.

"C'mon, Sue," Rogue whispered, voice syrup-thick. "Just a little. We're so fuckin' needy."

Harley's hands slid up Sue's thighs. Her mouth followed. Rogue stood and pressed in from behind, breath warm against Sue's neck.

It felt good. Better than it should. Too soft, too wet, too much - hands and lips and heat pressing against her until Sue let out a low, helpless sound and Harley moaned in response.

Rogue's hands slipped inside her coat. "We don't wanna hurt you," she murmured, kissing just behind Sue's ear. "But this thing... it's not gonna stop until we get it outta us. And every minute it's in our blood, we just wanna fuck and suck and melt into whoever's closest."

Sue shuddered - half in pleasure, half in fear. "What is it?" she rasped, barely able to think as Harley licked along her inner thigh.

Rogue's lips brushed her jaw. "Sinister cooked up somethin' new. A virus. Twists your body. Makes you wanna give in. Turns your brain to syrup and your cunt to lava."

Sue gritted her teeth, clinging to what was left of her composure. "You should've led with that."

Harley pulled back, looking up at her with wide, glossy eyes. "We tried, puddin', but you're just so kissable."

Sue stepped back - fast and shaky - pulling her coat tight around her again. "No more. Not another fucking touch. You're sick. Both of you."

Rogue nodded, slowly. "We know."

For a second, none of them moved. Then Sue crossed to the door and unlocked it.

"I'm getting you out. Now."

Neither woman argued - the bimbo virus stripped them of their resistance as much as their restraint, and Sue's domineering tone meant they felt compelled to obey. Their eyes followed her like cats watching a dangling string - hungry, lazy, dangerous - but something in them understood. For the moment, at least.

Sue slammed the door to the stairwell behind them, one hand braced against the wall like she might collapse if she let go. Her breath came fast. Rogue and Harley stumbled behind her, giggling like they were drunk, barely able to walk in their ridiculous heels.

She keyed her comm and hit the secure line.

"Reed, it's me."

A pause, then static, then his voice - crisp, calm, full of questions. "Sue. What's the situation?"

She pressed a hand to her temple. "I've got them. Both alive. Infected. Cognition is compromised but not fully lost. The virus is-"

She broke off. Swallowed. Her throat felt dry.

"Is what?" Reed prompted.

"-it's intense. Some kind of pleasure-driven neurological rewrite. Physiology's... mutated. They're extremely aroused. Constantly. And it's not fading." She tried to keep her tone flat, clinical. "I should be able to extract but you need..."

Her fingers were twitching.

Her coat felt too hot, her jumpsuit suddenly clinging to her skin like sweat-soaked latex. Her nipples tightened, hard enough to ache. She shifted her stance and felt a throb between her legs - sharp and sudden and completely wrong.

"Sue?" Reed said. "You still there?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."

But her hand had drifted lower. Resting against her hip, then her thigh. She didn't remember moving it.

Rogue was watching her. Mouth slightly open. Cheeks flushed. "You feelin' it too now, sugar?"

Sue snapped her gaze away. "No. I'm fine. I just- I just need a minute."

Harley was already giggling, licking her lips. "Oh babe, you so not fine."

"Sue," Reed's voice crackled in her ear. "If you're experiencing symptoms-"

She hung up. Fast. Thumb jamming the button like the phone had burned her.

Her hands were shaking.

Fuck.

She turned, back pressed to the cool concrete wall, heart hammering, breathing ragged.

The virus was in her system. That room - the sweat, the spit, the skin - she'd let them touch her. Let them lick her. Just for a second. But it was enough.

Rogue stepped closer, slow and soft. "Ain't your fault, darlin'. The virus, it... it wants us to spread it."

Sue stared at her. "How long do I have?"

Harley pressed against her other side, lips brushing her shoulder. "Depends how long you wanna fight it, baby."

Sue closed her eyes. Her panties were soaked. Her skin felt electric. Every breath brought more heat. And somewhere, behind all that rising lust, she could still think. Just. She could feel herself getting hornier and more desperate. She wanted - needed - to fuck Rogue and Harley.

She did the only thing she could to prevent that: she ran. Didn't think. Just moved. Out of the stairwell, down a hallway that blurred into pink and gold and flashing lights. Her boots skidding on the tile - wait, not boots. Too high, too slutty. They were heels now. The unstable molecules of her costume being subconsciously rearranged by her mutating psyche - but she didn't stop. Couldn't. She needed to get out.

Behind her, Rogue and Harley followed like wolves in heat. Giggling. Calling her name. "Sueeeey," Harley purred. "You forgot your dignity!"

"You're lookin' real good, sugar," Rogue drawled. "C'mon. Let us help."

Sue shoved through a curtain and-

"Oh god." she said, as she found herself back on stage in front of all those men - Leering, horny, worked-up, animalistic...

The crowd roared the second they saw her. Cell phones came up like lighters. The beat dropped - slow, sticky, pounding. A song she didn't recognize, but her hips did.

Sue froze. Her body trembled. She wanted to run, but her legs didn't listen.

Instead, she stepped into the light.

The heat of it hit her skin like beach sun. Her coat slid from her shoulders, showing off her figure. The gazes she had only recently tried to avoid where now her sole focus. Her hands drifted upward - helpless - tracing the curves of her own body like they belonged to someone else.

And then the changes started. Deep. Forceful. Like something inside her had started to stretch and swell and bloom all at once.

Her tits puffed up, straining against her jumpsuit until the seams popped open, exposing teasing glances of her flesh. She knew it could have stretched - on some level she wanted it to tear, and the suit responded to that. Her waist cinched tight. Her ass flared, hips widening, thighs thickening. She moaned - loud, unfiltered - as her clit throbbed like a second heartbeat.

She smiled as the virus finally took root deep inside her, and started to dance.

The Invisible Woman shimmered - quite literally - flickers of forcefield dancing around her in sync with the music. Her suit dissolved in segments, vanishing with a little pop of light as she used her powers to make it disappear. The crowd howled. First she showed off her new legs, long and tight. Then created a cut-out "4" on her cleavage, a grim, horny parody of her old outfit. She bared her midriff. Turned around to shake her ass.

She was doing it.

She was stripping.

Like a... her knees almost buckled at the thought... like a stupid fucking bimbo.

A glowing cage of forcefields formed around her, refracting the light into rainbows. She stepped inside it, arching her back, sliding her fingers through her golden-blonde hair - when had it gotten longer? Shinier? - and dragging her nails down her chest with a dramatic moan.

Rogue and Harley joined her, crawling up the steps like sex-drenched demons. They pressed against her, licking her shoulders, her neck, her new tits. Her hands found their hair. Her hips rolled.

She was a goddess.

A slut.

The fucking main event.

She twisted midair, suspended by a disc of light. Spread her legs wide. Ran one glowing finger down her belly to the place that pulsed with need. The crowd lost their minds as she splayed her cunt for everyone to see.

Sue arched her back at center stage, body glowing under the forcefield lights, tits heaving, legs spread like an offering. Rogue and Harley flanked her, grinding against her thighs, mouths hot on her skin, eyes glazed with hunger. The music throbbed through the floor, and the crowd - packed wall to wall with sweat and phones and money - roared like animals.

But inside her head, Sue was thinking.

Barely.

One thought, repeating like a siren through the flood of desire:

Cum. You have to cum.

The virus had rewired their brains, flooding every second with arousal, making it impossible to think straight. But when they came - really came - the haze cracked. For a few moments, they could remember who they were.

Sue gritted her teeth and reached for her powers.

Invisible energy shimmered in her hands, delicate as glass - then thickened. Lengthened. Took shape.

Three translucent dildos formed midair - huge, slick and perfectly contoured, pulsing faintly with forcefield energy. Weightless. Seamless. Custom-built by the mind of a super-genius turned cock-hungry exhibitionist.

Harley squealed when hers floated into her lap. "Ooooh, a Sue-per toy!"

Rogue moaned, already sliding down to the stage with hers between her thighs. "You're a damn genius," she breathed. "Ah could kiss you."

Sue just spread her legs wider, floated hers into place, and sank down on it.

The crowd went feral.

From their point of view, it was just the three hottest bimbos on the planet writhing against nothing - their bodies bouncing, their mouths open, moaning and gasping and begging for more. Phones lit up the darkness. Bills fluttered to the stage. Somewhere, someone was chanting Sue's name.

She didn't care.

She was riding hard now - back arched, hands gripping her tits, hips slamming down over and over. The dildo was perfect. It filled her, stretched her, hit the exact spot inside that made her cry out every time.

Harley was flat on her back, legs in the air, pumping herself like a madwoman. "I'm gonna explode!" she wailed, toes curling, glitter smeared across her thighs.

Rogue had hers on her knees, fucking it like a feral thing, head thrown back, hair flying, big tits bouncing.

Sue looked at them - her partners in shame, those fucking bimbos, those dumb, sex-hungry fuckdolls - and something snapped inside her as she realised... she was just like them.

She clenched.

Screamed.

Came.

It hit like a shockwave. Her whole body locked, then shuddered - forcefields crackling, lights shorting, knees buckling. Rogue and Harley followed seconds later, their cries tangled together in a storm of breath and sweat and wetness.

And just like that - the world shifted.

For a breathless moment, clarity returned. The fog lifted. The pounding between her legs dulled to a throb. She could think again.

Sue collapsed onto the stage, panting, heart jackhammering in her chest.

"We need to get out," she gasped. "Now."

Rogue crawled over, kissed her shoulder. "Ah know."

Harley giggled, half-drunk on orgasm, mascara streaked. "I vote we cum one more time and then escape."

Sue almost laughed.

Almost.

But the heat was already rising again.

And outside the cage of light - the crowd screamed for more.

--

Reed Richards stared down at the silent comm. The line had gone dead ninety seconds ago.

Sue hadn't called back.

He clenched his jaw and tapped furiously at the console in front of him. Her vitals had spiked, then flatlined into a pattern he'd seen already - twice. First Rogue. Then Harley. Full neurological override. Euphoria-motivated regression. Personality suppression. Libido dominance.

Sue was gone.

Not physically - not yet - but her will was gone.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, then let out a long, tight breath. Pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose like he could squeeze the shame out.

Then he pulled up a number he kept buried at the bottom of his contact list.

Emma Frost.

He hit call.

She answered after one ring. "Reed," she said, voice already smug. "You finally called. I was starting to think you didn't like orgasms."

He ignored her taunts. Their history was an embarrassment to him, and one he hoped Sue never discovered. "I... I need your help."

"Oh, darling," she purred. "Say that again. Slower."

"This is serious." His tone sharpened. "Sue's compromised. Rogue and Harley too. Some kind of virus has infected them. It's pleasure-based - neurochemical loop with erotic behavioral dominance. They're stuck in a feedback cycle. They... they can't think."

Emma's voice didn't change. "And you think I'm the cure."

"I think," Reed said, forcing the words through his clenched teeth, "you're the only telepath currently on Earth powerful enough to anchor them. Especially Sue. If there's any trace of her left in there, you might be able to pull it forward. They're in the Vixen's Den. I'd go myself but any man entering that environment would be quickly overwhelmed. You're the key to stopping this."

He heard her sigh - long, slow, like she was smoking something expensive.

"I don't like your tone, Richards. Like I'm a wrench in your toolbox instead of the woman you call when your science fails. You could at least say please."

"My science didn't fail," he snapped. "This isn't science. It's filth. It's... fantasy. You walk into that club and you'll see what Sinister has done."

Emma laughed. Cold and musical. "You don't think I've been to clubs like that? You don't think I thrive in places like that?" A pause. Then: "This is my domain, darling. I know exactly what Sinister built. And I know exactly how to break it."

Reed hesitated.

Emma waited.

Finally, he said, quietly, "Please."

Silence.

Then the sound of heels on marble. A coat being shrugged on.

"I'm on my way," she said, then the line went dead.

Reed stared at the blank screen. Emma Frost was on the case.

God help them all.