Depossessed

The effort was altogether disturbing. That was Mary Jane all right, the Mary Jane whose every inch Peter knew so intimately, but her vibe didn’t seem to fit inside the body that was displayed. The life and depth and vivaciousness Peter was used to, that he loved, were gone. Mary Jane was not even blank, though that would’ve been freakish enough by itself. Instead, cold malevolence radiated out of her eyes, her very skin. It felt like Peter was looking at a compound fracture—seeing his wife’s body holding itself in a way its spirit had never been meant to.

“Mary Jane is mine now,” Cassandra Nova said. “Her body belongs to me. And unless you want it damaged most… amusingly… you’ll help me to destroy the X-Men.”

Peter cocked his head to the side. “Who says I don’t want it damaged?”

With her finely honed senses, Cassandra keened what was coming. She turned to flee, but the body she’d forced herself into was merely human. It had no chance of getting away from a man of Peter’s power and skill.

He rushed behind her, cupping his hand over her mouth, pressing it down to gag her so hard that the inside of her upper lip cut against her teeth. As soon as she felt her captivity settling into place, Cassandra broke free, twisting her head from his grip and crying out for help. Peter spun her around as easily as he would turn a page and slapped her with his open palm, then backhanded her for good measure.

“You miscalculated,” Peter said, sounding almost as unlike himself as ‘Mary Jane’ currently did. “You think being in Mary Jane’s body means she’s your hostage. Actually, it means I can do whatever I want to that body, without causing my wife one little bit of pain. So if I were you, I’d vacate the premises.”

Cassandra decided to call his bluff. “What are you going to do? Beat me? Break my bones? Torture me? Mary Jane will feel everything you’ve done to her when she returns to this body, if she returns to this body! In fact, hit me one more time and I’ll let her experience exactly what you’re doing to ‘her’ body.”

That only made Peter grin. “So I have to find something to do to you that Mary Jane won’t mind, but that you’ll hate so much it’ll make you leave her body.“

“Exactly. It’s impossible!”

“Not that impossible. We try to have a date night every Tuesday and Thursday.”

In another blitz of speed, he dragged Mary Jane over to a couch and threw her down on it, pouncing on her before she could escape.

“Parker! What are you doing?!” Cassandra demanded.

“Baby, if you don’t know, you picked out the wrong body.”

Cassandra fought him off as best she could with arms that had no strength in them compared to Peter’s overwhelming power. He let her carry on for a moment before slapping her futile pawings away and slipping his own fingers into her halter. Cassandra gasped, eyes widening as she felt his fingers touching her—Mary Jane’s—breasts. No one had touched her there before, but Peter showed an easy familiarity with the flesh, instantly awakening it to swelling lust. 

Then he pulled outward, tearing the halter in two. Her full, round breasts jiggled out with their covering ripped away. Her pale flesh gleamed in the dark room while Cassandra beat her legs against the couch, trying to push her way past her ‘husband’ and get along long enough to regroup. Clearly, she should’ve taunted Peter over the phone, or maybe Facetime. She’d just been so worried about him calling her a Deepfake…

“Get off of me!”

Peter jammed his hand down between her thighs, rubbing Cassandra’s silken panties into her sex. The sensation was shockingly thrilling. But her anger over Peter’s treatment of her made Cassandra open her mouth to cry out.

“Make one more noise and I’ll gag you,” Peter growled. “Only reason I haven’t already is that when MJ is back, I don’t want to make her wait an hour for the webbing to dissolve.”

“Unnnn, no, don’t!”

“What, you have a headache? That hot little pussy’s getting fucked, lady. Your only choice is whether you want to be along for the ride,” Peter sneered, crossing his arms to pull off his T-shirt.

Cassandra gasped at his well-developed body. It was the kind of thing she might’ve fantasized about, if she’d had a normal life, not the half-life of being Charles Xavier’s shadow. And she’d never felt less normal than she did now, watching Peter fiddle with his belt, pull open his pants. Lust made her mind whirl, her body anticipate, but Cassandra was nothing other than shocked at what was happening to her.

“No, I… I’ve never done this before… I can’t…”

A cruel smile covered Peter’s lips. Cassandra blushed. 

“A virgin, huh?” His smile became a sneer. “You’re about to find out what it’s like to be a slut.”

“Oh God, God!”

Peter got on top of her, his weight forcing her down into the couch, pushing her legs apart with his knees. He kissed her roughly, bit her throat, nearly breaking the skin while his fingers dug and groped into her sensitive breasts, feeling like they were bruising them with every touch.

“Uhhh—ohhhh!”

Cassandra moved her hips from side to side. Her fingers curled, clawing into Peter’s muscular shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind—she felt his erection throb harder as she scratched him.

“Yeah, Mary Jane always was a bit of a spitfire. Believe me, you’re not going to hit on anything we haven’t tried ourselves on a long weekend with a lot of webbing. This is going to happen. I know what that body likes. If you hate it, that’s just too bad for you.”

He squeezed her ass, clenching his fingers tightly in her pert buttocks. Then he was pulling down her shorts and panties, tugging them off her kicking ankles and throwing them down on the floor. Cassandra was nude, stripped naked.

Peter slowed a little, his hands flowing over the soft curves of her nakedness. She trembled, feeling his callused fingers tracing her firm thighs, up to her ribcage, over her full breasts and stiff nipples. When he touched her there, Cassandra felt a new feeling taking its place beside her hatred and ire. It was hot and itchy, taking over her pussy, sapping her of her will to fight. A part of her wanted to give in to Peter’s body, pressing hard and hot against hers—Mary Jane wanted to give in.

Peter was playing with her, scandalizing Cassandra while arousing Mary Jane, teasing them both by kneading her swollen breasts into tightening feelings of desire. The more he squeezed those feelings down in his clenched fists, the bigger they seemed to grow. 

He raked his fingernails over her soft inner thighs, making Cassandra squeal, her legs kicking out. And then he was rubbing her ass, shoving his fingers between her buttocks, rubbing them along the inner curves until she felt the pads of his fingers searching back, back around her anus.

“Noooo!”

Cassandra tried to twist her body away, raising her legs harder and slamming the balls of her feet into Peter. He was touching her asshole, running his fingernail along the grommet of her sphincter, his other hand holding her asscheek away to give him unfettered access.

“Yeah, MJ always liked a nice, long assfuck. But let’s wait until your pussy’s gotten my dick nice and wet first. Wouldn’t want to do any damage. Just some nice, healthy pain for that naughty wife of mine.”

“Uhhh… no, no, you bastard, you animal, stop it!” Cassandra cried, jamming her chin down into his shoulder, trying to squirm away from Peter’s locked-in grip. It was impossible. The more she struggled, the less room there seemed to be. His hold on her was getting tighter all the time.

“Of course, the one thing Mary Jane would never do is go ass to mouth afterward, but you wouldn’t mind, would you?” To emphasize his point, Peter pushed the offending finger hard and fast into Cassandra’s hole.

“Oooooohhh!”

Cassandra felt like her world had exploded. Peter’s finger speared into her ass, wiggling horribly around in her rectum. Shocks of strange heat trailed up her spine, making her clit stand up and sting hotly while Peter kept working his finger in deeper.

“God, no, don’t… why are you doing this to me?” Cassandra sobbed.

“Because you’ve got a hot little cunt. Hot little cunts need big hard cocks to make ‘em feel good. That’s what’s gonna happen here. Too bad for you. I guess you weren’t meant to have a tight pussy.”

His terrible finger went faster and faster, thrusting into her a second time before Cassandra had registered the first. Then Peter slipped in another finger and Cassandra gritted her teeth. They chattered from the pain and heat of being fucked in the ass by two fingers at once.

“Of course, Mary Jane is lucky. She has a tight ass to match that tight little cunt. Good for her. Bad for you,” Peter whispered, biting at her ear.

“Stop it… stop!”

There was more movement; Peter never seemed to stop. Cassandra felt his hand slip between their sweating, grinding bodies. It went to her pussy, squeezing her mound, then grabbing some of her pussy hairs and yanking them out painfully. Cassandra arched her spine, squaring her shoulders against the couch and crying out in agony.

“That’s another thing we should get done, as long as I have the chance. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to get with Mary Jane after a Brazilian, but she thinks I should settle for her shaving her legs and armpits. But hey, as long as you’re here, might as well…”

“Ohh… you fuck!” Cassandra’s eyes glazed over, her lips parting vacantly, drool gathering on her lower lip. It reminded Peter of his wife in the throes of orgasm, when he’d truly succeeded in pleasuring her. But when her eyes focused afterward, there was a peaceful serenity in them. When Mary Jane came to now, her eyes looked to Peter frantically. “Peter, stop, stop! It’s me!”

Seeing the brightness in her eyes, Peter instantly knew she was telling the truth. It was her. No one could be more herself than Mary Jane, and at that moment, she seemed more Mary Jane than ever. He hugged her tightly.

“Oh, thank God. I was starting to feel a little bad. Not that I’ve ever known you to safe word, but if you did, that’d have to be what you would look like.” Peter kissed her, and as if he needed any more proof, the way she kissed him was it. No one else kissed him like she was made for him. It couldn’t be faked or duplicated—when she kissed him like that, Peter felt like he was a part of her, she of him, and together, they were something higher than either of them could be on their own, fragile and flawed. “We’ve gotta get you to Dr. Strange, the FF, find out how she did it, make sure she can never take you over again.”

“Later,” Mary Jane said.

“Later?” Peter repeated dumbly.

“After you finish doing to ‘Cassandra’ whatever you were going to do. You really think the first thing I’m going to do with this body, now that I’ve gotten it back, is sit through a bunch of tests?”

“But what about…?”

“You using your ATM card?” Mary Jane quipped, eyebrows wagging. “Go ahead. I’ve been on a cleanse.”

“No shit,” Peter retorted.