Its Name Was Henry update

Henry heartily approved of the pictures Mephista had gotten out of Mary Jane Watson. The very first was a brag of how much she’d seduced her: it showed Mary Jane completely naked, her legs spread wide to reveal all of her juicy cunt. She was holding her full breasts up as if offering them to the viewer and her lovely eyes flashed with sensuality.

The rest of the stack lived up to the sample. Mephista had gotten her into every imaginable position, with her pussy always wet and her nipples always hard. In one, MJ was even pulling on the thick folds of her pussy with her fingertips.

“These are great shots,” he informed Mephista, who tittered. She, of course, knew how good they were.

Mephista did not greatly resemble the petite French photographer that Mary Jane had modeled for. Her hips and breasts were far larger than Mary Jane would’ve recognized, easily equal to She-Hulk’s godly proportions, though there was little holy about her visage. Although she had much the same features, she was far taller, with jet black hair, red skin, horns, and dark wings. But despite her nakedness, Henry wasn’t paying over much attention to her.

His focus, naturally, was on a naked Natasha Romanoff. She laid on the bed between Henry’s legs, her face down on his cock, her full ass lifted into the air. His prick was a good nine inches long and Natasha could hardly get her fist around it—at least, if her mouth weren’t stuffed full of the thing, leaving nothing for her hand to grip except his bloated balls. Bulging veins wound their way along the length of Henry’s rigid shaft, though Natasha only knew this by feeling them with her tongue.

Henry breathed hard. His head was pressed back against a pillow. His cock stood straight up, even if this were only revealed by how Natasha had to lift herself directly upward from his loins to allow herself breath before she went back down on it. There was plenty for her to swallow—his member was full, wide, and hotter than hell. With it in her mouth, her throat, Natasha felt the blood pounding in her temples as if in symphony with the energetic throbbing from Henry’s own hot erection. She wound her soft, wet lips around every inch of his engorged manhood in turn as she slid them back up, up, up Henry’s length… only to go back down and once more throttle herself with his full potency.

Yet despite Natasha’s lust, her eyes were dull, like her brain was not at all involved in this task. Only her cunt, sending signals directly to her mouth, making it give Natasha’s passion the taste it craved.

Of course, it made sense for Natasha to seem distracted. All of Mephista’s fist was inside her asshole, the straining sphincter wrapping around her wrist as best it could.

Mephista was almost purring as she stroked the inside of Natasha’s anal tract. “They’re only reflections of the remarkable ways your amulets have changed the world, my love.”

“Oh gee, you mean it?” Henry asked.

“I do. The whole world is yours. And they think you’re helping them save it. I almost feel bad for the poor dears. Almost.”

“They don’t—oooo—have it so bad… ah, Nat, that’s so good!” Henry moaned, his eyes slamming shut. Natasha nearly took his breath away, glutting herself with the taste of his prick as she was.

But Henry hadn’t put her under his spell because he would be contented with her body on autopilot, giving him a nice, long suck. He was just as horny and excited and full of sexual hunger as the boy he appeared to be.

Still groaning, Henry grabbed Natasha’s head and pumped hard into her mouth, his own lips open in a silent cry, until finally sound materialized from his gaping maw and he shot his load into Natasha’s throat. She gagged, almost choked trying to swallow all he gave her.

She did this as readily as she had listened to their conversation, not seeing anything out of the ordinary with any of it. Natasha did not even register what they were saying aside from orders to be obeyed. All she saw was what they wanted her to see and all she heard was what they wanted her to hear. Her mind was as much their plaything as her milky-white body.

“Good girl,” Mephista cooed, patting Natasha’s hip with her free hand. “Does all that delicious cum taste good enough to make you climax? I think it does—now.”

Natasha came, eyes rolling up in her head, moans shuffling past Henry’s still weighty cock. It was a shame that her mind was still vacant, unable to enjoy the unadulterated pleasure her body  was privileged to experience.

Mephista pulled her hand free of Natasha’s ass with a slurp and a bit of a pop. “Sit up, Natasha. Have a taste of your own ass.”

Natasha obeyed. It was really the same thing as how she had orgasmed. A biological response engineered into her body. Only in this case, the endorphins that Natasha had to respond to were really just the orders she was given.

She wrapped her plump lips around as many of Mephista’s fingers as she could get into her mouth and sucked.

“Natasha, call yourself something degrading,” Mephista mewled, as lovingly demeaning as she would insult a pet in a sweet tone of voice.

“I’m a cum-worshiping piece of fuckmeat who only exists for the cocks and cunts I get to service,” Natasha said, her voice without emotion.

Henry whistled. “I should write that one down.”

Mephista laughed and ruffled Natasha’s hair like she was a good doggie. “I have to go shopping. Be sure to thank Natasha for doing such a good job cleaning off my hand.” And she was gone in a burst of flames.

Henry snapped his fingers and as quickly as Mephista had left, ‘Natasha’ was back behind her own eyes.

“Oh, Henry. Ready for the briefing?”

“Whenever you are,” Henry replied, picking up her bikini to hold out to her.

As Natasha put it on, she wondered why her asshole felt so sore.