The Bitch Queen: Betsy's Big Day

One minute, Scott’s team was trying to calm down Polaris, the next he was a dog running around in a grassy field. He halfway remembered a shock of pain in between, but mostly he remembered being a dog and was a dog. He ran through the long green grass, dived into ponds, dragged himself out and rubbed himself dry in tussocky patches. Abruptly, Madelyne was there, calling to him. He courteously shook himself as dry as possible before he bounded over to her.

“Scott, there you are. Are you okay?”

“I’m a dog,” Scott replied.

“That’s perfectly natural,” Madelyne said, and scratched him behind the ears. “Polaris knocked you for a loop. You’re unconscious now, but we’ve got her contained. You should be coming to any minute.”

“What’s the damage?” Scott asked her, his tongue panting out of his mouth.

“Not much. That hard mutant head is coming in handy. But you’ll probably be on medical leave for a few days.”

Scott’s brow furrowed—at least, he thought it did. He had no idea what his brow was doing as a dog. “Should you be keeping me company, even if the team did take Polaris down? She can be a serious threat if she breaks loose.”

“No kidding. You should see the goose-egg you’re getting back in the real. But it’s fine, Scott. I am an Omega-level telepath. I can multitask. And besides, I wanted to talk to you about Betsy.”

“Betsy?” Scott’s tail wagged, whumping against the ground. He hoped it didn’t make Madelyne jealous. “What about her? Did Polaris do something? If she did, bipolar or no, I’ll—“

“Betsy’s fine. It’s not like she’s pregnant or anything. That’s sort of the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, sure he felt his ears lowering.

Madelyne knelt down, patting her thigh, and Scott laid his head down on her lap. She petted him some more. “She’s trying hard not to let you catch on, but it’s getting to Betts that she isn’t pregnant yet, even with all our trying.”

Scott let out a whine, then realized what he was doing and spoke instead. “I know Betsy isn’t adverse to the idea of having kids, but I thought it was mostly a kink.”

“That’s what she wants you to think. That it’s not a serious preoccupation of hers. That way, when the time comes, we can all cross that bridge together.”

“But it’s not like I’ve been insisting on safe sex. If and when Betsy gets pregnant, I’ll be thrilled, just like I would be if you or Emma were pregnant.”

“That’s what she’s hoping. I think she feels a little… inadequate… that Emma and I have these long, serious relationships with you, and she’s… well, she’s closer to Mystique or Rogue.”

“She’s nothing like them,” Scott growled—literally. “They’re just flings, we all agreed on that. I love Betsy.”

“And she’s been hoping for a baby to prove that. Emma and I didn’t object because, well… as you and Emma discussed, babies were always going to happen. Every future we visit has a Summers. Betsy just wanted to have this be something only she shared with you… something personal… something intimate.”

Then Emma was there, in the way of dreams—Scott was too discombobulated to realize it more linearly. One moment he wasn’t aware of her, the next he was aware of her and she was there, with no real transition… he wasn’t conscious enough for that.

“Hello, Scott. You dog,” Emma said, as close to cheerily as she ever got… relieved that he was alright enough to be thinking anything, even if she would never say it. “Polaris is sedated. We’re taking her off to… what’s the heroic way of putting this?... ‘get the help she needs,’ I think. And I thought my in-laws were bad.”

“My family’s your in-laws,” Scott pointed out.

“I also wanted to discuss Betsy.”

“I already brought that up,” Madelyne said. “I explained the situation to him.”

“That’s nice,” Emma said dismissively. “Scott, Betsy’s getting frustrated because she wants you to knock her up, but you haven’t done it yet. I wouldn’t dream of telling the leader of the X-Men what to do, but it’d be terribly kind of you to breed the silly bitch already instead of stringing her along.”

“I’ve literally told him all this,” Madelyne said.

“Maddie, please, we’re trying to have a conversation. Scott, Betsy’s birthday is coming up. If I were you, I’d spend the day alone with her, packing that womb of hers full until even the most stubborn ovary has no choice but to pop out a firstborn. Madelyne and I will be happy to give up our share of your potency. For twenty-four hours, at least.”

Madelyne scowled at her. “What’s your game, Emma? You didn’t take it so well when Scott gave us up to dot every I of that stupid amendment.”

“That was different. We were all suffering then. This is for Betsy’s birthday benefit. And besides.” Emma favored Madelyne with a raw smile. “I’m not the one addicted to his cum.”

“Bitch.”

“Yes, that reminds me.” Emma looked down at Scott. “My love, I think you may need to refrain from fucking women from behind for a while. It may be giving you a complex.”

***

The moment her morning duties with the X-Men were complete, Betsy went to check on Scott, still wearing her costume. She was sure he was going stir-crazy, placed on medical leave by Hank, with all his loyal lieutenants closing ranks to see to it he respected his doctor’s orders.

Well, she’d see to it he had a good nurse to give him some tender loving care in his hour of need. Whatever Scott wanted, Betsy would give it to him. It didn’t even occur to her that it was her birthday. There was no way she would’ve rather spent it than tending to Scott Summers anyway.

She had no idea how prophetic that feeling was about to become.

Walking into Scott’s room, Betsy was disappointed to find no sign of Scott. Had he slipped out? Maybe tried to sneak some time watching the Danger Room exercises to at least see how the team performed in his absence? Or was he just in the loo? Betsy stepped inside to look around and the door shut behind her. She whirled around, ninja instincts kicking up like a tornado, but the one thing she was in no way prepared to deal with was a naked Scott Summers.

Almost naked. He wore an Individual Digital Assistant… the latest toy from Forge, a multifunctional device that couldn’t just do anything a smartphone could do, while impervious to hacking, but that actually changed its shape with whatever function it was performing… around his neck on a leather cord. And, of course, Scott wore his visor. Otherwise, his skin was completely unadorned. He’d taken the simple expenditure of hiding behind the door while Betsy walked in and now that it was shut, he’d revealed himself in all his glory.

Betsy’s breath hitched. She had a hard time controlling herself under normal circumstances with Scott. So much about him… his chiseled physique, his handsome face, his commanding manner… drove Betsy wild. Being around him sent a strong pulse through her womanhood—she had to call on her ninjitsu training to suppress her craving to please him. But when he was naked, his girthy cock hanging down to his knees, Betsy felt lightheaded. She was glad her costume was so skimpy, because only reminding herself that it was already displaying so much of her own luscious body kept her from ripping it off herself in offering to Scott.

“Happy birthday, Betsy,” Scott said, and Betsy felt her mons physically quiver. She squeezed her thighs together; a little voice inside told her that her wetness would soon be showing through the crotch of her costume. She doubted Scott would mind.

“I take it this is my present?” Betsy asked, her usually glacial tones now cracking with emotion. Appropriate, she supposed, considering the heat she was facing.

“More of an opening course. I know what you really want, Betts. You want to be bred.”

“Ooh!” Betsy couldn’t help herself. When he said it like that, she let out a breathy little moan.

A faint smile showed on Scott’s face. “We’re going to be working on that. All day and all night. No Emma. No Madelyne. Just you and me. And this…” He shook the IDA around his neck like a cat-toy. “—is going to record the happy occasion. I take it you don’t have a problem with any of this?”

Betsy shook her head. “No. No, no, no. Wait, one second…” She dug out her own IDA—its pliancy and flexibility made it easy for her to stow it under her sash—and quickly dialed a number. “Storm? I’m not feeling very well today. I think we need to put off my birthday celebration. Could you let everyone know? I… I think I’m just going to spend all day in bed.”

As she spoke, Scott drew close to her. Her almond eyes grew wide at his approach. She struggled to keep her voice steady, which only made her woeful tale of being sick on her birthday more convincing. As she strained to keep her mind on the phone call, assuring Ororo that she didn’t need to be looked in on, just to rest, Scott brushed her purple hair back from her bare shoulder, fully revealing the high collar that ended the halter of her costume. He circled around her lithe body to kiss her shoulder, his hands caressing from her delicate jaw down to where her costume covered her collarbone. Betsy felt his stiffening cock brush against her half-covered ass. Her eyes rolled back a little ways in her head.

Seeing Betsy’s regal and measured manner, one might assume that her costume, revealing as it was, was some sort of armor. And it was, somewhat—Scott only let Emma go into battle so scantily-clad because he knew she could always change into her diamond form. Betsy’s costume was strong as spider-silk, while scant enough to allow her natural agility to keep her out of the way of most threats.

One thing her costume didn’t do, though, was feel like the vinyl or latex it somewhat resembled. Instead, it was soft and smooth as silk, as Betsy’s creamy skin itself, and Scott could almost only tell the difference by the body heat. The costume was cool to the touch; Betsy was anything but. He cupped her breasts, relishing their chilly feel while inside the skintight material. He knew once he’d gotten Betsy out of her costume, she’d be all but on fire.

“I have to go, Storm. I have to… oh God… I’m, uh, cramping… need relief…”

“It’s alright,” Scott heard Ororo’s mellifluous tone coming over the phone. “I know when someone’s too polite to go into detail. I’ll inform the others. You simply—attend to your needs.”

“I—I think I will… bloody hell…” Betsy hung up, wincing at the rudeness of the abrupt disconnection. She looked at Scott over her shoulder. “Bastard of a man… do you have any idea how it feels for one’s nipples to get hard in a costume this tight?”

“I have bad news for you, Betts. You’re not going to be taking it off for a while. First, we’re going to set the tone for the day.”

Scott took the IDA from her and set it down on the nightstand. Despite herself, Betsy felt a pang of arousal ring through her already sensitized body at the simple, easy dominance of the action. She was so very glad to have sorted out her submissiveness to Scott—not to have it chafe against her like it did Madelyne and Emma.

In the bedchamber, he was her master. Betsy enjoyed it. She didn’t know why it was so difficult for the other women. She’d seen how hard they came when he dominated them. Was all their posing and posturing really more important to them than that?

Betsy tickled her finger at the collar of her costume, where a securely hidden catch would let down a zipper. She could render herself naked in seconds, aside from gloves and boots, but she rather liked the thought of a frenzied, feverish mating with her still in some of the accoutrements of her uniform. Hell, she liked the thought of a frenzied, feverish mating, period.

“And what if I want to be naked? Isn’t it my birthday? Don’t I get what I want?”

Scott smiled condescendingly at her—a sneer that might earn a strike from her if it were any other man, but with Scott, it only further buried her under her feelings of submission and surrender. “You’ll get what you need, Betsy. But I think you misunderstand. Your gift isn’t getting to be fucked. It’s getting to be my bitch. Now, kneel down. On all fours, I think. It’s time for you to thank my cock for letting you be its holster.”

Betsy trembled—the mix of offense and arousal running rampant in her—barely cooling with her reminding herself that Scott was playing a part, deliberately tripping her yen for bottoming, and in reality the man loved her more than life itself.

But that was reality. This was a dream. And in her dream, she was nothing more than Scott Summers’ bitch.

Swaying almost drunkenly with her devotion to Scott, the rush of obeying him, Betsy got down on her knees. Then she fell forward onto her hands, placing herself on all fours like a dog. Her thick ass jutted out behind her in this salacious pose. Betsy could only imagine how it looked to Scott as he stood over her. He was already four inches taller than her—now he towered over her, Betsy trembling in his shadow.

“Good girl,” he cooed to her. “Very good girl. You want my cock now, don’t you? You want to get it nice and hard so that it can fuck you—reach your womb—fill you full of my seed.”

Betsy twitched, little rushes going through all of her supple body. She licked suddenly dry lips. “Yes, Scott—yes, master,” she corrected herself.

His prick was already massive, nearly ten inches and thick enough to be a challenge to her small hands. But she knew that Scott could grow more. Between her, Emma, and Madelyne, they’d elevated him to states of lust where his cock was more of a club, beating them into insensate pleasure. Betsy grinned moonily at the thought. This time, it would only be her enjoying that. Enjoying it over and over again, until her womb finally submitted as the rest of her had and gave Scott his firstborn son…

“Nnh…” she moaned haplessly, a thrill of delight running through her at the thought.

Scott smiled. Betsy knew it pleased him how malleable she was, how eagerly she submitted to his control. Maybe after her victimization by Mojo and the Mandarin, she was simply used to the idea. Maybe she trusted Scott as only a psychic could when a man was just good down to the bedrock, as her fellow telepaths Madelyne and Emma did. Maybe, between his possession by Apocalypse and her experience with the Crimson Dawn, she knew that he would never take advantage of whatever state she was in, only use it for her own greater enjoyment. Maybe she was just a submissive little tart and Scott was the biggest dom she could find.

When it felt this good to submit to him, did it really matter?