The Wasp '64: Avengers' Predator

Giant toxic smoke monster over Cleveland. It is the mid 1960s. The classic Silver Age.

Of course the Avengers Assemble. Thor and his Hammer leap into the sky, but the toxic smoke monster swings a giant smoggy right hook, and Thor is swatted out somewhere over the flaming Lake Erie. He skids across the water, right through the flames. It hurts but he'll be fine. He's some kind of god-like alien, after all.

"That was the thunder, here's the lightning," Iron Man tells the Smoke Monster, but the energy beams which ol' tin-head blasts into the Toxic Smoke Monster do no good.

But then in comes Giant Man, who punches the smoke monster right in its giant face. But the punch sails right through the smoke. Giant Man stumbles, but before he can fall, a smoky fist from the toxic cloud of man-shaped-smoke hits Giant Man solidly in his Giant face with the enormous smoky fist.

"Ugh, it tastes terrible," Giant Man calls out, the rancid scent and flavor coursing through his Giant senses.

Down goes Giant Man, crumbling a few small buildings along the run-down part of Cleveland where they happen to be.

Iron Man scans the human-shaped cloud and reports that there's something human-sized in some kind of suit at the center of the blob. But as Iron Man blasts energy into the cloud, the cloud's arms move fast to block, turning solid and going up in thick, dark, toxic flames.

"Stop, Iron Man," calls out the radio voice of New York socialite Janet Van Dyne, better known as...

The Wasp!

"Your energy beam is releasing the cloud's toxic gasses, the Clevelanders can only breathe so many of those!"

"There's someone inside that cloud, Wasp," Iron Man radios back. "We gotta stop him."

Captain America has taken off on foot, heading to the base of the cloud that the toxic giant smoke monster emanates from, somewhere on the ground in the industrial Lakeside of 1960s Cleveland. He went into the fires trying to evacuate the people at ground level but he quickly saw it was too late. Blackened and charred and asphyxiated civilians everywhere.

If this was a Hydra trick against American industrial power, Cap thought, he had to hand it to them, it was a good one.

Since no one was going to need rescuing, and since the fire department could not move in against this toxic smoke yet, Cap was going to need to get to the source on the ground. Find out where this toxic smoke over Cleveland had originated from.

But up in the air, Iron Man was now dodging and ducking and weaving, as the Toxic smoke monster seemed to have the upper-hand, and was pursuing the Red and Gold Avenger over the skies of Cleveland, and now out onto Lake Erie.

Classic Iron Man gallows humor and banter. The nervous non-stop talking that Janet Van Dyne had learned always came out of this Avenger's mouth whenever he felt unable to control the situation his way. Janet had to tune out his voice over the radio, as she hoped the air filter on her Wasp helmet was strong enough to hold up as she flew her insect-sized self into the human-sized toxic cloud!

The Wasp was a veteran of insect flight in every kind of air type, and had learned the ways air currents felt and could be part-flown, part-surfed, by her tiny wasp wings. But this toxic cloud felt all wrong. Unnatural! The cloud had air currents that were unique and far out of the ordinary, with air pulsing through it like a human circulatory system. Janet felt air currents like veins and arteries, and only had to find a vein to start herself on a ride to the heart of the cloud.

Her helmet's sensors were picking up the form Iron Man radioed her about.

There was an iron-man-like suited figured at the heart of this cloud. The suit was bulky, and seemed to Janet to be the contraption that was most responsible for pumping out the constant toxic smoke. There was also a long tube that looked like it went at least a hundred yards back down towards the ground, like this floating operator was also tethered to equipment back on the ground.

Nevermind, Janet was here to stop this, quick!

Like she so often had to do, while the figure in the suit was focusing on moving the toxic cloud smoke monster to chase Iron Man out over Lake Erie, the tiny Wasp-sized Janet Van Dyne climbed onto the villain, found a weak point on the seal of the villain's helmet, hit the villain with her

Wasp Sting!

right on a sensitive neck point, and quickly got out of the helmet again, and then flew out of the toxic cloud, while the man in the suit began to spasm and seizure-out and the toxic cloud began to dissipate, out over to Lake Erie.

Iron Man flew in to grab the seizing-out villain, return him to land, pop him out of that suit, and begin rendering medical attention.

In this case, he administered the standard antidote to the Wasp's Sting that Iron Man carried with him. The decoy and sting was a standard Avengers play, and one they commonly ran on out-of-town villains. Villains, in the face of Iron Man or Thor or Captain America, usually forgot entirely about the Wasp, and it usually was their undoing.

Undone and on the ground, this new anonymous villain, now neutralized and slowly returning to a stasis state after the injection, withed beneath the heroes. Standing above and around him were Iron Man, the Wasp, a soggy Thor, a stoic Captain A, and a lumbering Giant Man, all looking to see if the face of this person looked at all familiar to them.

He didn't.

Just another mad scientist, overachieving in the wrong direction. As usual, Captain America volunteered to write up the report.

Janet was back to full size, that is, human size, now. Thinking to herself about how this was yet another man she penetrated. Another man she made spazz out through her penetration of him. This villain took her sting and now he was weak and helpless at her feet. At her mercy.

She looked up at her boyfriend Hank looking down. This anonymous jerk laying on his back now, defeated, beat up her boyfriend Hank, punched him and knocked him down and out, but she Janet Van Dyne hit him with her sting, injected her sting into him, and saved her boyfriend.

For what? Janet thought. After penetrating a man with her sting, she always felt the same way. She felt that way right now, looking at his prone and prostrate body. She penetrated him with her hate, and so now she wanted someone to penetrate her with his love. Some hero.

Where was her hero?

Looking up at Hank: dazed, dilly, so much dumber since he switched from his original Ant Man identity to the new Giant Man one, which he seemed to get stuck in now for weeks or months at a time.

Weeks or months where his comically huge, Giant Man penis, could do nothing for Janet.

"There's such a thing as too big," Janet would have to remind Hank. "It doesn't even look like a human's," was the cruelest thing she told him. But science had always been a far higher priority to Hank Pym than Janet Van Dyne had ever been, and science was always far more important to Hank than Janet Van Dyne's tight and insatiable pussy.

She just saved Hank as Giant Man yet again, in yet another flyover town, but getting dopey Giant Man to save her from her horniness was impossible. She had needs but her boyfriend could not help her anymore. Sitting on Hank's face was unthinkable, too. Hank had made it very clear in their repressed relationship that going down on a woman was not something a man like him would ever do.

The high of shrinking with Hank when he was Ant Man, the high of going on adventures, the high of fucking while tiny--these highs were so good for Janet that they lasted years and she never even noticed that Hank was not giving her the kind of head that her past, preppy boyfriends did without complaint.

With great enthusiasm, for Janet's absolutely delicious little cunt. Eminently likable, suckable, and lovable.

I don't "do that," Hank said. All of his Ph.Ds in science but none in human biology. "That" because he refused to name it, refused to name any of the sexual acts they did, refused to call any parts of her intimate body by its name. It was always "that" or "those" or "down there." He never even called hers a pussy or a cunt or even any of the technical, latin names. Hank Pym could speak about obscure and cutting-edge physics, groundbreaking chemistry, but could not talk honestly about sex with his girlfriend.

And, with Hank so reliably fixated in his lab, or fixated on a long drinking session and the long hangover the next day, Janet had plenty of time to sneak out for a rendezvous with some dashing, sexy gentleman.

Whom Janet could make sure was the type of man who "did that."

Janet could lift up her skirt and sit down on his face, riding his lips and tongue and his chin and his nose, riding his face the way Hank would ride her when he was available and sober, the way he used to ride her after they would have one of their first, shrinking adventures together.

And once her one-night-stand had tasted the Wasp's organic honey, she could see how large her date's stinger was.

With Hank, pills made her bigger, pills made her smaller, until the experiments with actual wasp DNA let her control her shrinking without chemicals. But pills also made the come of strangers a neutral thing inside her, made sex with strangers a wonder and a pleasure. It was only 1964, but the Sixties were already full of pills that made her life better than ever before.

Like beating up bad guys and saving cities made her feel hornier than ever before.

But towering, dopey Giant Man with his python way too big and way too floppy (erections were tricky for Giant Man) to fit at all inside Janet's petite lips, were not going to save her day or her night.

Since the Avengers had defrosted him, Janet tried flirting with Captain A, tried joining him for one of his long, grueling workouts in the Avenger's Mansion's second-floor gymnasium. But Janet found herself treated like a kid sister, no matter how tight she cinched her sweat shorts, no matter how low she cut her sweat shirts. "It's so hot in here, Cap," Janet explained, "even for one of your famous midnight workouts." Even when Janet joined Cap for a post-workout shower. "Tony Stark offered to build a ladies locker room, but as the only female Avenger," Janet told Cap, "I told him no thanks, I'm a modern sixties woman, I'm not ashamed or embarrassed." She also told Tony that she knew he'd probably put some secret cameras in the ladies lockers anyway, and Tony laughed back but did not deny it. She did not share that joke with the shy Captain America. But when Janet dropped her towel then turned on her own hot water, all that was left for her eyes was Cap's back and his perfect bottom.

So shy, he would not even look at her in the shower.

"So, could I ask you to get my back, Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Wasp. I don't think that would be right."

"Because I'm Hank's girl?"

"Yes, and because I'm got a sweetheart myself."

The most platonic shared shower of Janet's life.

Janet knew by then that Iron Man was Tony Stark. At her Wasp size, she had followed Iron Man back to his skyscraper base one curious, early day and hid, watching while the armor come off and Tony Stark emerge.

She did not like Tony Stark, hated the mustache and the scent of liquor that always hung around him. The only man she had ever known for whom alcohol really was some kind of genius fuel.

No wonder Iron Man always seemed to be half-tipsy and wisecracking all the time, Janet thought. She felt guilty as soon as she learned the secret, and got out of there immediately. Trying to be as quiet as possible, lest Tony or his audio sensors pick up the sound of her buzzing insect wings.

Janet kept Iron Man's secret to herself for a long time, not telling anyone, not telling Captain A in the shower, not telling Hank even in bed, not even writing it down in a diary.

Janet had been curious about Iron Man, who was really in the suit. Iron Man was sexy to her, she would admit to herself. But she had met Tony Stark through Iron Man, and because the Iron Man suit had a person in it during that introduction, and was talking with the same Iron Man voice filter as always, when Janet as The Wasp was introduced to Tony Stark, she was sure the real Iron Man was there introducing him, and that Iron Man really was just the bodyguard for Tony Stark and not Tony Stark himself.

That Tony Stark would need a bodyguard made perfect sense to Janet. He was ultra rich and even more famous for being an ultra-asshole. Any fancy charity dinner he might be invited to had a higher than zero chance of turning into a drunken food fight by the dessert course. Tony made it a point to insult the pompous old person most likely to throw a drink, throw a pie, throw a punch.

She hated him by reputation, but in person she hated him even more. He smelled of liquor like a functional alcoholic. His mustache looked cheap and scummy and his hair looked greasy. He looked like that despite his height and his expensive suit (always wrinkled), and his hair looked like he probably had not showered for a week or more. The alcohol smelled like it was covering a heavy body odor.

So when she learned that this was the slimy weasel inside the heroic Iron Man suit, the last thing she wanted to do anymore was fuck Iron Man.

Even their flirty banter during missions and battles took a nose dive, now that Janet's heart and mind was no longer in it.

Her only remaining option, Thor, talked and acted like he had no genitals at all. Janet had checked him out, but there was never even a bulge in his tight battle clothes.

Back on shore, Thor is still dripping from the polluted Lake Erie waters, the angriest of all of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Iron Man asks the questions while Thor's big boot breaks one of the anonymous villain's ribs at a time, as he fail to answer questions. Name. Who sent you. What is your Hydra name. Captain A always wanting to know about Hydra. Did Loki speak words in your ear, mortal? Each one pursuing their own arch-nemesis.

But Janet stood there for awhile, watching the torture.

She had not been hurt in the fight, she had no desire to punish this rogue. It was time to shrink and zoom off. She knew it would be an half hour before the boys in the club decided they had Interrogated long enough. They would figure Janet had to do girl things. Captain A probably would not even mention it in his report.

By the time they do notice, Janet has showered and changed and bought an entire new set of clothes at one of downtown Cleveland's last fine clothiers, and she is checked in under her secret identity as Janet Van Dyne, New York Socialite, into one of Cleveland's last truly five-star hotels.

Janet sends Hank and the boys in her "special club" a radio notice that she's fine, attending to some "girl things" and then she turns her radio off, goes down to the hotel's bar, and sips dirty martinis slowly, looking over the successful businessmen in town for the evening. Listening to the banter percolating around the room as the evening goes on.

"Did you hear about that smoke monster?"

"Nah, probably some trick."

"By who, the commies?"

"Nah, that team in Ann Arbor."

But, after three martinis, Janet has found someone who has the right suit cut on the right bias, the right banter, the right smile, and after her fourth dirty martini, she accompanies him up to his room, where she sits herself on that smile and rides his handsome face until she is grunting and screaming and coming coming coming.

His cock is nice, and hard, but she does not want to play anymore. That pent up orgasms was just so fulfilling, so satisfying. So while she cuddles her lover, holding his nice cock in one hand, nuzzling his neck with kisses and warm loving words, relaxing him and releasing any of his defenses, Janet gives him just the tiniest, littlest

Wasp's Sting!

right into a vein, the tiniest microgram dose, and Janet watches and feels this sexy man's body slowly fall into deep, blissful sleep. His cock firm and stiff in her hand as he drifts off, and still at full attention in her hand as his eyes begin to show the rapid R.E.M. patterns.

She slips herself out of the bed, pulls the blanket up over him, dresses perfunctorily in her clothes, and leaves him there in his hotel room. Breathing softly, still tenting the blanket with his unsatisfied erection.

Janet takes the stairs up to her sweet on a higher floor, and falls asleep instantly in her large hotel bed.

She'll catch a commercial flight back to New York tomorrow, she thinks. The morning papers have been delivered when she wakes up, and room service breakfast follows shortly after. There's a brief, gossip article that notes that Johnny Storm, better known professionally as

The Human Torch!

has enrolled at Metro College.

"Johnny Storm, all grown up," Janet thinks, sipping her coffee and nibbling her toast and eggs. "Johnny Storm, a college man," she thinks, and cannot wait to get back to New York.