SCARLET SONJA SPIRAL SILVER Chapter 12

Jean found them sleeping on their sides, locked in an embrace that Betsy was clearly luxuriating in, even unconscious. Scott was glued to her back, his belly against her ass, his cock in the gap between her lithe thighs.

The very sight incensed Jean and she cast her mind back to the Blackbird, reassuring herself that Ororo and Rogue were there, ready to assist her in her revenge. She didn’t know who to be more angry with—Scott for succumbing to Betsy’s temptation, or Betsy for tempting him in the first place. 

She also didn’t know who it would be harder to come up with a suitable punishment for. Scott, of course, she had to keep around, which limited the ways in which she could discipline him. With Betsy—well, a quick death wouldn’t be much of a punishment, and Jean hadn’t known very many X-Men who stayed dead either. So it was hard to think of something suitably extreme. 

For now, Jean relished her anger. It was so hot, such a heady feeling, addictive in its intensity. It threw her memories of Scott into sharp relief. She’d slept with Scott like that, not that they’d gotten much sleep. She wiggled her ass against him and they squirmed together until they were fucking. Then, when they settled back down, it was only a matter of time until they were making love again. When morning came, they weren’t exactly well-rested, but the longing for each other, and for that bed, was enough to keep them awake.

Jean climbed into the bed, sandwiching Betsy between herself and Scott. Betsy, Betsy, Betsy. She pressed her breasts against Betsy’s, feeling them tingle against hers. Was this the thrill Scott felt as he fucked her? Or was it lower? Jean slid down the mattress, down, down, down until she was at Betsy’s purple thatch of pubic hair. 

She sniffed. It smelled of her husband, and a little of Jean’s own musk after Scott had finished with her, his sweat mixed with hers, the scent of his cum perfumed with her cunt, but off. Obviously so. The key ingredient was missing, replaced with this… imitation.

Betsy stirred. She lifted her right leg, as if to make room for Jean. Jean let her tongue out, running it over Betsy’s slit, her clitoris, wondering if this was how Betsy had responded when it was Scott doing it to her.

In his sleep, Scott felt Betsy’s ass rubbing against his belly, the playful friction demanding a response. He worked his cock against her left thigh. Jean held her tongue in his path, letting his pumping run his prick across her taste buds. She picked up Betsy’s distinct flavor and the pungent aftertaste of Scott’s cum.

Jean levitated over the happy couple, lowering herself back down behind Scott. She kissed the back of his neck. He smiled in his sleep, his grin buried in Betsy’s hair. 

Inhaling his masculine scent, Jean licked his neck, his face, his shoulders, reaching around him to fondle the muscles of his chest. She even pressed her nose into his armpit and inhaled his scent at its strongest. Scott put a hand on Betsy’s right thigh and pressed it downward, squeezing her legs together on his cock as he racked it between them. He groaned and his cock moved faster.

Jean nibbled his ear. “On your back,” she whispered. “I wanna blow you.”

Betsy moaned remorsefully as Scott slipped away from her, rolling onto his back with his huge cock standing up from his loins. Jean went to it, wrapping her hand around its base and licking it even more ardently than she’d sampled Scott’s sweat. Scott sighed, his fingers digging into his pillowcase.

Jean sucked at him, cleaning away his fluids as well as Betsy’s from his cock, bringing every inch of it to throbbing erection in the process. She squeezed down hard on the base of his member, enjoying how it twitched against her hand, while his precum bubbled out of his cleft to greet her tongue. She licked it up, ran the tip of her tongue around the end of his prick to cajole out more. His manhood shook violently; Jean slid her lips over it, swallowing him to the hilt.

“Suck—suck—!” Scott moaned groggily. Jean didn’t know if he was awake or asleep anymore.

Jean bobbed her head, lips smacking on Scott’s cock, tongue whirling at it to extract more of a reaction from him. Scott was unable to hold out in his unconscious state; in less than a minute, he exploded, his hips pitching upward to skewer Jean on his manhood. 

Jean let him hilt himself in her throat, drinking greedily as his cock surged with cum again and again. She cooed with satisfaction, draining his cock into her belly. Then she pulled away, leaving him emptily discarded beside Betsy, who continued sleeping apart from his splayed body.

“That’s all for now, lover.” Jean backed out of the room, wondering if the naked couple would resume their old embrace, or if Scott had finally remembered who he was married to.

***

Inside the Sanctum Santorum, Wong had just finished scrubbing the ectoplasm from the tiles and was settling in to enjoy his stories. In New York, the only place to watch a Tibetan soap opera was at 2AM on public access and he relished finishing his chores in time for the opening credits. However, as soon as he sat down, the phone rang.

Wong considered casting a spell to slow the passage of time, but Stephen would probably think that was petty, no matter who the father of Tsangmo’s baby turned out to be. Instead, he muted the TV and, eyes following the closed captioning, picked up the phone.

“177A Bleecker Street,” Wong answered.

“Wong, good, great, I need your help, I mean, Doctor Strange’s help. I’m—” He paused, and Wong could imagine why. The voice had quite the energy of one of the superheroes the good doctor associated with. Naturally, he would be reluctant to give away either of his identities over the phone, especially in this age of caller ID.

“Before you go any further,” Wong interrupted, “I should inform you that Doctor Strange is currently unavailable. His path has taken him into the Dark Dimension and it will be some weeks before he returns. May I take a message?”

“No, no, I—look, can I get a referral?”

“For a magical problem, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“The Avengers would seem to be your safest option. The Scarlet Witch is quite a skilled magic-user and Thor—”

“No, that’s not an option. Let’s just say I’ve already tried that.”

“Very well.” Wong briefly took his eyes off the TV set, consulting his inner recollections for someone else who might be of aid with a problem that would otherwise demand Stephen’s attention. “What about the X-Men?”

“The X-Men?” the voice asked incredulously. “With the hairy guy and the laser beams and—”

“I am aware of several magic-users on their roster. I can only imagine one of them is available to lend assistance. Amanda Sefton, Magik, Meggan, Forge, Shaman…”

“Geez, you really know your stuff. What are you, a fanboy?”

Spider-Man. It had to be. Either that or the man had a clone. “I assume there’s no need to tell you how to contact them. You already know how they can be reached.”

“Yeah, I’ll hit them up. Thanks, Wong. Tell Doc Strange to give you a raise.”

“I have no need for material possessions,” Wong replied, and hung up. He unmuted the television.

“Tsangmo, him? Of all people to have a baby, him?”

Wong grinded his teeth together. If he had to go on some online forum to find out who it was…

***

Peter hung up the phone. He, Wanda, and Mary Jane… Sonja… were all dressed again, which did surprisingly little to make the situation easier to manage. Sonja had insisted on only wearing the most workmanlike of Mary Jane’s clothes: a durable set of jeans, calf boots, the top she exercised in, and a leather jacket Sonja said would make suitable armor. 

Of course, it being Mary Jane’s body, she still looked incredible. And while Peter would never say anyone could wear MJ’s body like MJ, there was an intriguing newness to the way Sonja stood in it, looking like the Mighty Thor stuffed into Mary Jane’s svelte frame. Or maybe Lady Sif. There was still a lot of femininity in there, no matter how tough Sonja was. It made for an interesting contrast with Wanda, who was all-woman, not domineering at all—but then, thoughts like that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

“I tire of watching you talk into your magic rectangle!” Sonja said. Her indoor voice was not what Mary Jane’s was. “Let us find Kulan Gath and put an end to him!”

“Like we’ve been saying, there is no Kulan Gath! You’re not here to do anything. It was just an accident. We need to get you out of my wife’s body and back to your own time. That’s it.”

Sonja crossed her arms. “I doubt this greatly. Where Sonja goes, danger has always waited.”

“I know the feeling,” Peter muttered.

“I should have a sword.” Sonja started for the door.

Peter grabbed her by the shoulders. “No, no, no swords! I remember the last time and all the bareknuckle brawling is bad enough. If you’re going to ride around in my wife, the least you can do is refrain from putting together a rap sheet until you get your own body.”

“Bah! How good a wife can this ‘MJ’ be if she has no sword of her own? How does she defend you?”

Wanda giggled behind her hand.

“Not you too,” Peter moaned.

Wanda flushed. “Sorry. I know this is all my fault. But it—well—it can be fixed. One day we’ll look back on this and laugh.”

Peter doubted it. He couldn’t picture himself going to the Brooklyn Bridge and having a chuckle over old times. “I hope so, Wanda, I really hope so… Can you talk to her? Please? Woman to woman?”

Wanda’s succulent lips formed a frown. “How much do you expect me to have in common with a barbarian woman from the dawn of time?”

“Or I with a witchwoman?” Sonja asked disdainfully.

Peter kneaded his temples. “Sonja, look, you remember being here before, right? The cops, the pollution, the public indecency laws? It’s not your cup of tea, is it?”

Sonja’s mouth prepared a growl without actually voicing it. “This time has much people who deem to tell me what to do. I dislike it.”

“So let’s get you back home. It’s only a few hours’ drive to the Xavier Institute. We can take MJ’s car.”

“The X-Men?” Wanda barked in surprise. “We’re going to see them?”

“Strange isn’t available and you said yourself that you don’t know exactly how to reverse this. So either we get Thor to take us to Asgard—“

Wanda looked downcast. “He is not on this realm at the moment.”

“Uh-huh. So we go to the X-Men. They have like five teams now. One of them must have someone who can help.”

“If they had real power, they’d be on the Avengers,” Wanda muttered. Then she noticed Sonja staring at her. “Sorry. I have a history with the X-Men.”

Sonja swiveled her head to Peter. “We take her to entreat her enemies?”

“They’re not enemies—not right now, at least—no one stays enemies with the X-Men long, I think Magneto is on the team now.”

“Perhaps I should return to my own time,” Sonja said. “Your world and all the many things you do instead of chopping your enemies’ heads off…”

Peter pointed a firm finger at her. “No decapitations in my wife’s body.”

“Do not tell me what to do, man-spider!” Sonja retorted hotly.

Wanda stepped between them, separating them with her hands. “Whoa, whoa, let’s everyone calm down!” Being in a group without Cap’s leadership sure has a way of making you appreciate the Avengers. “Peter, I know you’re worried about your wife, but Sonja didn’t ask for this and it’s not her fault. Don’t take it out on her. And Sonja, you have to appreciate how much Peter cares for Mary Jane. Right now, you’re responsible for her well-being.”

“If he cares for her so much, why was he inside you?”

Wanda’s jaw dropped. Then, before she could think better of it, she saw red. “What, are you jealous?”

“Okay!” Peter cried, pulling Wanda back out of Sonja’s range. “You know what? That is a long story and we can cover all of that in the car, on the way to the X-Men, to send Sonja back and wrap this whole thing up. We can talk about it there and everyone can argue all they want, because it doesn’t matter, cuz when we get there, Sonja is going home and I’m getting MJ back. Can we all agree on that?”

Wanda and Sonja spoke at the same time: “I was just trying to—“ “Never trust anyone who uses magic—”

“Hey!” Peter clapped his hands sharply. “That wasn’t a question! This is my wife we’re talking about, which means I’m in charge. Wanda, I need you to cast the spell that whatever X-Men we find is going to add their power to. Sonja, I need you because that’s my wife’s body and I’m very fond of it. So you can either sit in the car willingly or I can web you up and take you there in the trunk. And believe me, there is room for both of you in there. We move around a lot and Mary Jane was sure to buy a car with a lot of trunk space.”

Wanda put her hands on her hips. “You’re right, Peter. We shouldn’t delay.”

“I suppose it could be said I was brought here at your behest. I will behave as a sellsword should with a sack of gold in her girdle.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Peter said. “Come on then. Off to see the wizard.”

They trailed behind him as he started for the door, Wanda and Sonja exchanging glances. From what little she knew of Spider-Man, Wanda was surprised at his outburst, while Sonja seemed almost pleased by it.

“I wonder how he is at single combat,” Sonja whispered.

“What was that?” Wanda asked.

“None of your concern.”