X Men The Beginnings Of Corruption 03

There were two kinds of New Year's parties at the Xavier Institute. The children threw their own, some chaperoned, some not, but all with the tacit approval of the staff. The twenty or so cliques of the school all commandeered various locations on the grounds and had whatever kind of soiree most appealed to them. An unlucky telepath or living computer on the teaching staff was always given the job of watching them all at once, making sure nothing got too out of hand, but otherwise, it was seen as a way for the students to let off some steam.

The second was the formal party held inside the mansion, celebrities, superheroes, and well-wishers showing up to see how civilized the mutants could be. Jean wished she was at the first. Underage drinking would at least offer her a respite from seeing Emma hanging off Scott, wearing perhaps her sheerest dress yet, letting everyone see why Scott had stayed with her while Jena was back among the living.

Jean felt like she was some Amazon tribeswoman as a tour group went through. Emma and Scott worked well together, showing off all the dazzling accomplishments of their mutant prodigies—the artwork, the inventions, the thankful mementos from lives saved. Jean wondered what any of them would say if they knew how the perfect mutant couple spent their nights: Emma a pimp, Scott a john, being sucked off through a glory hole by women who Emma had made a sport of debasing.

Jean had had no idea. No idea that Scott could be twisted into what Emma had made of him. This smooth, glad-handing man who still smelled of her, but who effortlessly manipulated, lied, killed, whatever it took. Emma's love had been like a scalpel. She'd gone in and removed all the things Jean loved about him. All traces of her in Scott, his redheaded girl who'd put the first fingerprints on his heart.

And she'd loved him. Loved him because no matter how she changed, how she evolved, how she became, Scott was always the same. Solid. Reliable. Stiff and square and everything they said he was, but not mutable, never mutable like Bobby or Warren or Hank. No wonder she'd chosen him. Her life had been flying apart from the moment she'd gotten her powers. She chose to build her new one on bedrock.

Her distress must have been so great, even Scott felt it across the gaping chasm where their psychic bond had lay. He detached himself from Emma with a kiss to her cheek, and she took over the frantic tour: like us, like us, please like us wonderful, useful, creative mutants, oh so pretty we are...

Scott brought her a drink. Cherry schnapps. Her favorite. He still remembered. He was with Emma and he still knew everything about her. "We can talk."

"We can not. You're good at that."

The tour moved on, milling and gossiping. They could catch up with them in the dining room, where they'd eat the finest mutant cuisine since Genosha had been wiped clean.

She took the drink before it hurt him. It tasted good. After all these years—still her favorite. "You're with her, Scott. You didn't choose me."

"That's not true."

"How is it not true?"

"I choose you. And I choose her."

"And whoever might kneel in front of a glory hole on any given night?"

"Yes." His ruby quartz glasses had never looked so blank. "I know what you have with Logan. It doesn't change what we have. Why should this?"

"Nothing happened with Logan!"

"Why not? Would it change how you feel about me?"

Jean tossed the drink aside, only her conscientious mind catching it and setting it on a chest of drawers. She walked away from him. He followed. "She's changed you, Scott. You're some... sex toy to her!"

"She was there when you left."

"I died."

"I didn't. And she didn't. She showed me how there's more to love than making things stay the same. Than going back to the way things were."

"What was wrong with being married to me?"

"We weren't happy."

"I was happy!"

"Then why'd you die?"

"Because you let me!"

Dinner was served then. Jean heard the telepathic summons.

All throughout the entrees, Jean pushed her mind through their psychic bond like she was needling a split lip with her tongue. She felt Emma's foot on his calf, the dainty toes traveling up, up, but never making it to his cock.

Saving that for later.

***

The first course, the second, on and on, then dessert, tea, cigars, drinks. All the way up to the countdown. Jean scrutinized what Scott had said, the thoughts woven into his words. He saw it as Emma having set him free, shown him a way to lose control while staying in command. If his 'date' with Emma had been anything like Jean's...

Jean tried to think of where she had lost control. When Emma had offered her the hashish? When she'd shown her Rogue, or Psylocke, turned into whores and strippers by Emma's subtle manipulations? At some point she'd given in, but Jean just couldn't remember it. No more than she could remember when exactly she fell asleep before having a dream.

The countdown began. Jean mouthed along like it was the words to an old song. Ten, nine... she saw Lorna Dale approaching Scott as Emma stepped aside, seven, Lorna had inherited Magneto's height, shared some of Wanda's statuesque physicality, but Wanda's impressive curves had come from her mother. Polaris was more slender, nothing to distract attention from the nest of green curls that ran down her back like ivy on a trellis. She put her hand on Scott's chest.

Jean had lost count. But all that mattered was the zero, anyway.

Lorna was dating Scott's brother. That didn't stop her from embracing him as the cheer of Happy New Year! went up. Their lip came together so passionately that Lorna began moaning immediately. Her tongue caress his with abandon, reached deeper to the root of his tongue, to the back of his throat, trying to gag him. She wasn't stopping. When Jean thought it was, it was just Lorna dropping to her knees.

"Your brother's going to marry me," she told Scott. "So if we don't do this now, it'll be incest."

That eager tongue of hers now reached into the fly her fingers undid. Flicked at Scott's swollen cockhead. His slit oozed a tempting drop of jizz and Lorna snatched it up before it could drip away. Her tongue flashed for more. She struck Scott's crown like a miner digging for gold, finding another drop of precum, then another and another. She gulped each down as she gathered them. Scott held onto her shoulders to keep steady. Then to force his cock deeper into her mouth. The entire room heard Lorna gag.

"And that," Emma said, "is why Scott's the leader."

Chuckles went up about a room that, a moment ago, had been deathly silent. Jean looked around. There was no gaping, no shock, no surprise. The cloistered masses regarded the act of fellatio as if it were a dance routine, an art exhibit, a public recital. They watched like it was normal. All but...

"Scott!" Alex demanded, cutting off a whipping gasp from his brother. He pushed his way through the crowd. "Lorna, you crazy bitch! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

In a way, Jean was relieved. Though she knew this might come to blows, at least it was a moment of normalcy—a wake-up call for Scott, for all of them.

But Lorna just held up a finger, signaling for time, and with Scott's dick still planted in her mouth, she undressed. Her blouse came off first, the entire room seeing she wasn't wearing a bra—and how erect her nipples are. Then, her lips remaining stretched around Scott's manhood the entire time, she unsnapped her shorts, lifted her ass, and pushed them and her panties down her legs. Jean felt a psychic flicker; the breeze from the AC winding between her legs and batting at her sex.

Naked, Lorna finally wrenched her head off Scott's cock. "Just wanted to see who the real swinging dick in the family was. Well, Alex? Don't tell me the sibling rivalry ends here." She went back to her sucking, eyes burning into Alex.

"It just got started there," Alex said, unbuckling his belt. His fly came down. "Where do you think Scott's whole inferiority complex started?"

A quiet gasp and even a round of applause went through the quiet room, like a cloudburst on a dry day. The difference in size was academic, but Alex was hard as steel, his cock shooting up like a sword. Scott's fell heavily out of Lorna's mouth, half-hard, as she swiveled her face back to her boyfriend. He stepped forward, on the other side of Lorna from Scott, and offered his rock-hard cock.

"And they call him Cyclops," Lorna snarked. "Of course, it's hard to tell how one-eyed he is from up here," she added, preening on her legs.

"It's a poor workman who blames his tools," Emma said, coyly classical.

"It's not my tool," Lorna retorted. She bowed her head to Alex. "This is..."

She pushed her nose against his cock, like she was sniffing wine, pushing it upward, then letting it flop down on her face. Her tongue came out, licked at the sensitive nerves on the underside of his cock. Alex gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair. She knocked his fat cock up with her stabbing tongue-tip, making it bop against his stomach repeatedly before laving her tongue up his shaft and circling his cockhead's wide grim. Alex's gasps became deep moans. Jean felt his pleasure as well as Lorna's inward smile. She let herself share Lorna's tongue as it viciously worked Alex's senses, torturing every nerve, tasting them. Alex's cock swelled up as large as Lorna had ever had it. Only then did she open up her mouth and suck it inside.

But she couldn't enjoy it. Emma had come up behind Scott. Her white-gloved hand rubbed his cock like a loyal pet, and it twitched energetically in response. The sight of its casual power was driving Lorna to distraction. She reached out, groping Scott's ass, and pulled him closer to her. His cock rubbed on her bare breasts, smearing precum across her cleavage. Even as her cheeks bulged more and more with every second, she squeezed her tits on Scott's manhood, forcing out more precum for her luscious skin. Jean just had to know what the two cocks smelled like—Scott's clean as ever, pleasant, Alex's musky, unwashed, potent. It nearly knocked Lorna out. It nearly knocked Jean out.

Scott's cock between her breasts, Lorna deep-throated Alex's prick. Her lips squirmed all the way down to the base of his shaft. Only for Emma to drag her off with a hand in her hair, like a leash on a dog.

"Suck them both," Emma said, looking down into Lorna's eyes.

Lorna glanced away. "Yes, Mistress."

She wrapped her arms around both their waists, pulled them side by side, so close together that they had to put arms around each other's shoulders. Alex's cock slipped from her mouth and into her hand; her other jerked on Scott's, working his foreskin up and down. She licked them as she jerked, one then the other, the Summers brothers groaning and pumping, working their manhoods inside her grip. Her pussy was wet as melted butter; she would've rubbed it if she could. But with both her hands occupied, all she could do was squeeze her thighs together.

"Now, whore," Emma said. "Or is my Scott's cock too big for you?"

Lorna opened her mouth like she was trying to dislocate her jaw, then forced her lips over the pair of cockheads, forced them into her mouth, forced her mouth down further. She managed to swallow the first three inches before it felt like her lips would tear. Together the men grabbed hold of her, head and shoulders, to fuck gently within the ring of her overwhelmed lips.

That was all Jean could take before she let the room.

Emma followed her out, always following, always behind Jean, always breathing down her neck, waiting for her to fall so she could pounce.

"You brought the Club here," Jean said. She was panting like a runner. "You brought it... into the mansion, under the Professor's roof, where he taught us..."

"Scott's fucking the mouth of the woman who's going to be his sister-in-law," Emma said as if Jean hadn't spoken at all. "His brother's there too. They're both fucking that bitch's mouth and everyone is watching, everyone is wishing they were doing the same, sucking cock or having it eaten. They'll get to, Jean. Before the night is over, they'll get to. And you'll still feeling it, Jean, I can feel you in Lorna's head."

Jean tried to block it out but she couldn't. She felt all of Lorna's surprise as she managed to swallow another inch of the two cocks in her mouth, then the violent arousal of her uncontrollable gagging. The brothers eased off, letting her suck as much as she could, and Jean was Scott, feeling Lorna's spit running down his shaft, trickling over his balls. She was Alex too, even if she shied away from the affection he felt, looking down at Lorna's impaled mouth—how could he love such a slut?—but most of all she was Lorna. Hungry for two helpings of cum from the same vineyard.

The only thing Jean felt of herself was the tears in her eyes. "I hate you!" she hissed at Emma.

"But you love Scott. He's your soulmate. Your other half. The love of your life, your first kiss, your partner, the man who took your virginity, the father of your children, your husband..." Emma reeled them off like she was firing a machine gun. As if she were trying to escape, Jean found herself back in Lorna.

And her throat felt like it would buckle as two cocks swelled mercilessly in her mouth. She touched herself as she sucked them and it felt so good, being filled with fingers and cock. The brothers rose on their toes, their abs rippled, they groaned in unison and came at the same time. Lorna's mouth was filled, Jean's mouth was flooded, just one spurt! She knew Emma wouldn't be happy, but her mouth overflowed, their seed running off her chin and spilling onto her tits. She sucked and swallowed all she could, and the men helped, holding her head down on their bucking, erupting cocks, but it was too much for any one girl to take.

"That's not him!" Jean moaned, feeling cum that wasn't there fly from her mouth.

"Yes it is, Jean. The man you fell in love with, he lives for this. I didn't have to corrupt him, remember. He came to me. So what did you love, my dear? A lie? A mask? A shell?"

Jean's hands were on Scott and Alex's chests, feeling their muscles tense, their bodies shudder as their orgasm ripped through them. They grunted like bowls as they poured their cum down her throat.

"Or did you know, Phoenix, telepath, queen of the X-Men, that this is what he was all along?"

Drink it, Scott was growling, Alex emphasizing it with pumps of his hips, his cock going impossibly deep into her throat...

"Was that why you chose him? You could've had any of them, even the Professor, but you wanted him! Because of this! Because he could fuck you like you wanted, because you'd fuck other men, other women, and he'd watch! He'd enjoy it! Don't you see, Jean? He came to you for the same reason he came to me. We're the same."

They were finished. Their cocks softening enough for Jean... Lorna... to pull her mouth away without spraining her jaw. She laid back on her ass, lifting each breast but not licking them, just watching the creamy cum run over her skin. Then she reached down between her legs and made her hand wet with her own juices. Rolled over and reached up to Alex, his cock drooping slightly, throbbing rhythmically. She rubbed at his cock, smearing her wetness on it like she would give a bloodhound a scent.

"Fuck me," she said, and Jean wasn't sure whose mouth it had come from.

"Of course, dearie," Emma replied. "That's what I do."

***

Emma let Jean smoke a cigarette—she didn't know what was in it—as she gently unwound her from her garments. Then she herself disrobed. She was wearing her corset and panties under her dress.

With both of them suitably undressed, Emma led Jean by the hand back to the party. The lights had been dimmed and it was even quieter than before, moans and gasps like crickets chirping in the night. Couples were in obscene embraces, indistinct in the smoky darkness, but their restless undulations showing that they were paying homage to the act Scott and Lorna and Alex had performed in one way or another. All of them were losing control of their passions. A warning bell sounded in Jean's subconscious. It told her that she'd already lost control, but she knew. She knew the urges that were pulsing and pounding in her flesh were hers and hers alone.

At Emma's nod, she got up on the table. Knowing they could see her ass, her tits, her cunt. Everything of her. Her naked desire was so obvious...

"Ladies and gentlemen," Emma called, bringing a preambling halt to the evening's festivities. "I have here a very generous young lady who's decided to donate all three of her holes to the cause. For just a twenty dollar donation to the Mutant Education Fund, you can have whichever of her orifices you so desire."

"Twenty dollars?" Warren Worthington cried. "I would've paid a hundred times that back in the day!"

"You had a hundred times that," Bobby Drake replied. "I didn't and I still would've paid."

"I got a twenty," Logan said. "Don't know if that'll cover my whole dick. I need some space to move around, you know."

"You'll have plenty of room," Emma assured him. "The lady in question is not vacuum-sealed. Now, seeing as I doubt many of you have access to your wallets at the moment, we'll just handle payment on the honor system. Bobby, age before beauty. Lie down on the table."

With a slap to the ass from Emma, Jean moved as well. She straddled Bobby, grinding her pussy against his cock. She thought one last time to get out, to run, to flee. Instead, she sank onto his cock, taking in all eight inches of it, wiggling her ass on his balls.

She would've expected to ride Bobby then, start a rhythm like she had with Scott, but Emma put a gloved hand between her shoulder blades and ushered her down against Bobby's chest, where the Iceman embraced her and held her tight. Then Warren grabbed Jean by the hips, forcing her snowy buttocks apart.

"Christ, I would've given anything for a shot at this ass back in the day," he said, his voice still obscenely cultured. His shirt was off, his wings fully extended. He taunted her crack with an outstretched finger. "I would've given you the full-court press, Jeannie. Dates. Private jet. Red convertible. All just to get in here."

"Well, now all you have to do is find a twenty," Emma said. She unzipped him, drew him out of his boxers, lubricated his shaft with a few quick yanks of her glistening glove. "Perhaps between your couch cushions..."

In quivering, delicious dread, Jean felt Warren's soft hands opening her cheeks, drawing her ripely full buttocks open even as she automatically clenched them, trying to hold them together. It was useless. Warren pressured them further, making her feel the cool air of the room on her tightly clenched anus. She felt more naked than ever, completely unprotected. Tears gathered on her cheeks as she realized what Emma had in store for her.

She gasped, feeling a finely manicured fingernail at her opening, then the abrupt pain of his entry, the worming feel of his first knuckle going in. Her muscles jerked automatically, grabbing at his finger, but Warren kept going, all the way to the palm of his hand. Jean grunted painfully as he reamed out her ass, stretching her in the most obscene way.

She was fully conscious, fully awake, feeling the leering thoughts of everyone in the room, seeing through their eyes as they stroked themselves, entered themselves, men and women equally enjoying her surrender. The whore that was her laid flat on her stomach, Bobby deep inside her, rocking gently to pleasure himself up inside her as behind her, Warren pulled back the heavy foreskin of his cock, displaying the bloated head and pointing it at the tiny puckered hole he had so thoroughly stretched and prepared.