Tess Black update (Patreon)

Hela gave Felicia her orders. What she’d have to do for more. And Felicia would do anything for more.

Breaking into Avengers Mansion was child’s play. Spider-Man had actually brought her there once, showing off his reserve member status, or maybe as part of one of those huge bust-ups that got even fringers like Felicia involved. It was hard to remember. They fought, they fucked, Tony Stark looked cute. What else mattered?

So she already had the place scoped out, just from memory—not that she’d been planning to rob Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, but clearly it was a good habit to be in—and they hadn’t done much to upgrade their security since then. Maybe they’d built stronger forcefields and reinforced the walls, but nothing to make their access cards harder to spoof or their wires rougher to splice. She slipped in and through and around, coming to Thor’s room with the slow, steady progression that teased her anticipation to the breaking point.

It was there she got her first surprise in a night that was almost threatening to turn dull. She’d expected Thor, one of the little bonuses of the job being the hope of walking in on him as he slept. Not that she wanted to be too much of a creeper, but if she was going to be breaking in anyway, why not enjoy one of the perks?

When she got there, though, it wasn’t Thor she found in the king-sized bed. It was one of Peter’s friends. Beta-Ray Bill.

Felicia was no dummy. She did keep track of all the Game of Throne-ing that the goodies and baddies of the world seemed determined to occupy all their waking hours with; she personally thought both sides could stand to get laid. 

Bill had once been your run-of-the-mill alien, a little weird-looking, but no more so than your average Star Trek guest star. Then there’d been a crisis. He’d been elected guardian of his people, and been bio-engineered and cybernetically enhanced within an inch of his life.

Whatever he once had been, he now stood—or rather, lay—an easy seven feet tall. His body was packed with muscles. It was hard to imagine even Thor having a better physique, though as hairy as the thunder god might’ve been, Felicia doubted he would have the down of fine, tawny-colored hair covering his body like the coat of an animal, turning it a glossy tan color rather than anything earthly. 

That, Felicia could live with. It wasn’t that different from Tigra or Beast, and Felicia had thought about that slash done more than think about it depending on how much she’d drunk that evening in February. 

It was his face where things truly veered off to the side. Hulk, Beast, Nightcrawler, Mystique—all the so-called freaks, they all had a face that was more or less human. Once you got used to it, you could even see some handsomeness there. Bill’s wasn’t. He had the long, sleek snout of a horse, protruding out into an exposed rictus-smile of fearsome teeth. No lips. No pupils, either. In the absence of those relatable qualities, his appearance became inhumane—threatening. Despite his unquestioned, untarnished reputation, it was hard for Felicia not to think of him as freakish. She knew it was shallow of her, but she’d never claimed to be deep.

Apparently, the superhero shell game of costumes and identities had given him Mjolnir someway, somehow. It sat handle-up on Bill’s nightstand, the heft of its head somehow possessing a portentous gleam, as if it could feel heavy despite resting apparently negligibly on an ordinary wooden furnishing. 

Felicia drew Hela’s seal—a ribbon of cloth with a foul smell and a wet feel despite the hours it had spent drying on her person—from a compartment on her hip. Obviously, she couldn’t steal Mjolnir. Not in the traditional sense. Hela’s plan was instead to… misplace it. With the magical seal over it, it would vibrate its way into a pocket dimension. Still there, metaphysically speaking, not having been lifted or carried away, but completely inaccessible. Invisible, even, to the naked eye.

A con, in other words. Felicia liked those too.

She crept to the side of the bed, idly casting her gaze at the sheet-covered lower half of Beta-Ray Bill’s body. His legs were as thick as tree trunks, the same muscular girth as his prodigious biceps and massive chest, but they didn’t curve backward like the hind legs of a horse or dog. Felicia was gratified for that much. She could also see a third impression in the sheets, an outline that continued down almost to Bill's knees.

Felicia stopped, froze, all but one hand traveling out to grasp the hem of the sheet and pull it down, see if he truly was as endowed as he appeared. Surely, it had to be just an errant fold in the covers, one with an impressively full, robust curve to it, one that traveled seamlessly down between his legs, and right where a member would, should be. Perhaps in transforming him into such a monster, his homeworld had been careful to make up for it in other ways.

Felicia shook her head, stopping and reminding herself of the job at hand. Christ, girl, you really are a slut, she thought to herself. She’d just had mindblowing, insane sex with Hela, putting her on this job in the first place, and now she was imagining what it would be like with this alien, this creature, this… horse.

Not even allowing herself to turn her head for fear of catching sight of that again, Felicia put all her attention on the hammer. She wrapped the seal around the hilt and watched as, like a Magic Eye picture coming into focus, an optical illusion came into being. It looked like space was curving around the hammer, like it was smaller than it had been before, no, like it was further away, and then suddenly—it just popped out of existence.

Felicia waved her hand through the air where it had been. Absolutely nothing but a vague and almost intangible stiffness to the air current, as if her hand were passing through a spider’s web. 

“What are you doing?”

Bill’s voice wasn’t at all the draughty thing she would’ve expected. It was slow, and commanding, and half-awake, dazed with confusion. Even then, it was shocking noble in its deep baritone, its rumbling bass. Maybe she was expecting Mr. Ed.

Felicia took a quick step to the left. She didn’t think he had noticed Mjolnir missing yet. If he had, there would’ve been all sorts of violence, or worse, jail. She still had time to distract him, while his eyes were on her and not his weapon. At least, not that weapon.

“I came to see you,” she said, lowering her voice to her most honeyed purr. She reached to the famous zipper on her famous costume and drew it down, rushing to beguile him, but also slowing enough to tantalize him, to make him take his time in looking at her and see every facet of her perfection. 

Her zipper traipsed down her voluptuous body. Already low between her breasts, it didn’t take long for the vee of flesh that was exposed to take in all of her cleavage. As if under insurmountable pressure, her breasts swelled at the loosening leather, peeling them to the sides of her well-rounded teats. The zipper continued to lower, taking the tautness off her catsuit, making it slack and loose as her breasts finally escaped, their full, vibrant lushness now taking prominence, dominating her sleek, pale flesh, already a temptation itself in its creamy softness. Her catsuit now hung over her shoulders, parted to the waist, with the beginnings of a tuft of white fur at the very point of the unzipped vee pointing between her legs. Every faintly excited breath she took sent a seamless ripple through her body, giving her breasts an enticing jiggle, leaving no doubt to their reality and their undeniable heft. 

Bill’s eyes were chained to her. Mjolnir’s resting place might as well have been a million miles away for how likely he was to take a look at it. Men. They were the same everywhere. Felicia smiled, her green eyes flashing within her intriguing mask, her hands moving sinuously to continue her disrobing. Now, poised between teasing and outright obscenity, was when she removed her gloves, then her boots. The costume would come last. She wore nothing under it. And the mask would stay on.

“I want to thank you,” she said, now that she had his attention. All of his attention. “For all that you’ve done. And to worship you, for all that you are. It’s shameful, isn’t it—everyone else has their admirers, their fans, but you… just because of the way you look… you have no one. No one but me.” She saw his eyes blink stoically and knew, through his godly visage, that she’d unmanned him a little. It always took that extra little touch. “Let me show you how grateful I am for your protection. Everyone else has theirs—let me be for you. I’m yours. Do anything you want to do to me.”

“Show me,” Bill said, his all-white eyes now gleaming with awareness. The act of setting out to seduce him had done something to Felicia—she wasn’t a robot, after all—and hearing his powerfully deep voice now dripping with a sensual enjoyment of her seemed to rumble deep into her, arousing her further, fanning the spark of her lust into a flame. 

He reached to the side of the bed—for a moment, Felicia panicked that he was going for the currently intangible Mjolnir—and picked up a 16-ounce glass bottle, empty and stripped of its label. Clearly Bill had gone to bed with something to drink. Now, he held it out to Felicia.

“Use this.”

Bill sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard with his joined hands pillowed behind his head as Felicia finished slipping out of her costume. Still standing, Felicia spread her legs, reached between her parted thighs, and began fingering herself to start her juices flowing. Her in-and-out movements became more rhythmic, and she closed her eyes and moaned as she held the bottle firmly in her other hand.

When her juices were gushing steadily, she pulled her finger out and inserted just the head of the bottle into her spread cunt.

"It's not as good as your hot dick," she commented, "nothing could be."

Felicia moved the bottle in and out, gradually achieving deeper penetration until the neck of the bottle was enveloped easily by her enlarging cunt.

With each stroke she emitted a groan: "Oh, un, un, uh, un!" 

Bill watched intently. His cock was beginning to swell, a vast upheaval of the sheets at his legs so mammoth that for a moment, Felicia though he was lifting his knee. 

Felicia dropped to the floor on her naked ass and hiked her legs in the air. She fucked herself with increasing determination. Bill watched her close her eyes and shut him out of her self-induced ecstasy. She rocked back and forth on her round ass as she pounded the swell of the bottle against the lips of her sex. Gradually she spread her legs wider apart and shoved the bottle in farther.

"Oh, shit!" she cried in pain.

Felicia's expanding cunt accommodated the large part of the bottle, and a new flood of juices alleviated the temporary pain. She resumed the rhythmic in-and-out motion, deepening the plunges into her desperate cunt.

"Oh, yes!" she sighed as the pain turned to pleasure. "Oh, my God, yes!"

As Felicia hunched back and forth on the floor, lost in the ecstasy of her masturbation, Bill quietly rose. His cock flopped out hard and long. Bill reached down and grasped the bottle, but his efforts to take it from his visitor met resistance. Felicia clutched her new treasure tightly and held it deep inside her cunt, reluctant to surrender the pleasure it produced.

Finally Bill jerked the bottle from her pussy with a determined effort and jarred Felicia from her sexual trance. Upon seeing the hardened state of Bill's huge dick, she sighed loudly. It really was as huge as it had appeared under the sheets. Even bigger, with hot blood flowing through it and precum already dribbling down the cleft under the head. He may not have been the handsomest suitor she’d ever had, but his very strangeness made him alien, interesting, exotic. 

There was nothing obscene or even emotional about this. There was just him, his cock, and the wild animal lust it provoked in her. It was going to the depths of depravity, like participating in a donkey show, but without the degradation of lowering herself to a dumb animal’s level. Instead, the base of intelligence and decency in Bill made him entirely abstract. There was no shame in fucking him, no love, no thought of him as human or inhuman. He was just a cock. A cock she needed desperately.

"Oh, Bill, fuck me," she swooned. "Fuck me like that bottle never could!"

Bill eased himself down on top of Felicia, flattening her out on the carpet. He began caressing her primed body with his sure hands. He slid his hands up her sweaty legs and waist and grasped her full tits, which swelled to meet his palms as much as they had his eyes. He massaged the soft, resilient flesh strongly, and Felicia's nipples stood up erect and hard.

He slid one hand underneath himself and across her flat belly. He forced the hand on down through the white fleece Felicia had wordlessly promised him and between her parted legs. Felicia opened her thighs expectantly, and Bill rammed his hand into her hot pussy. He began finger-fucking her with one broad finger, then two. Felicia's cunt spread easily and Bill pushed all three massive fingers into the home she had offered them. His knuckles beat against the lips of her cunt like a machine.

"Oh, yes!" Felicia moaned. "Now give me your dick, honey! All of it!"

Bill pulled his hand out of Felicia's cunt and positioned his member for entry into her hungry sex. He shoved it in, and the large shaft fit her barely, snugly, until there was nowhere else for it to go and half a foot of his manhood still remained untouched at the lips of her cunt.

"Oh, Bill!" Felicia praised. "You have such a big, hard dick! I love every inch of it!"

She bucked up viciously at her strong lover, and he thrust her back down violently against the hard floor. Her soft round ass cushioned the blows, but she cried in sweet pain. "Oh, my God, Bill, I love it!" she moaned. "I love for you to fuck me!"

"Keep on fucking!" Bill shouted as he rammed home powerful thrusts into Felicia's deep pussy.

Surges of orgasm rushed through her body as Felicia spread her legs wider and collapsed, overwhelmed, under the strain of Bill's hard fucking and harder pleasure. Bill continued to pound away at her mastered pussy with his own climax nowhere in sight. Felicia lay helplessly beneath him and moaned in pleasure.

"Oh, no, Bill!" she gasped. "I can't take any more! You're fucking me to death!"

"Keep on fucking!" Bill repeated.

Sweat popped out in beads all over his body as he kept up his desperate pace. A new supply of juices oiled Felicia's cunt, and she began once again to respond to the violent thrusts of her lover.

"That's the way," Bill urged. "That's it!"

Felicia's reserve of energy spurred her on anew. She resumed her upward bucking to meet the colossal cock. "You must be a god," she praised. "I never knew anyone could fuck so long."

"I never knew anyone could take so much.”

Felicia smiled broadly, not entirely believing the lie, but flattered by it nonetheless. She churned her pussy eagerly, determined to bring him to climax and milk every last drop of semen from him.

Finally Bill felt his load preparing itself for discharge. He accelerated his flailing thrusts, and Felicia, sensing his approaching climax, met him hysterically. A load of warm cum exploded into Felicia's exhausted cunt.

"By Asgard!" Bill swore in ecstatic release.

Felicia felt the liquid warmth enter her, and another burst of orgasm quaked through her body. She clamped her legs tightly around Bill's waist and held him inside her. Her muscular legs quivered as she tightened around him in every sense.

"Oh, Goddamn, Bill!" she screamed. "Oh, Goddamn! Oh, yes, honey! Oh, my God, yes! I love it! I love it! I love it!"

Felicia fell back in total fatigue, and Bill rolled off her. Within minutes Bill and his satiated conquest were asleep on the floor.

Felicia tried to stay awake, desperate more to cling to an idea that had just occurred to her than to get away, but her body was too sore and tired to keep out the sleep that seeped into it. As she beached herself on his chest, her head at its heaviest, she thought to herself that it didn’t matter one bit if Bill had the face of a horse.

Not when he was hung like a horse too.

***

“So hey,” Peter said, “not that that wasn’t great or anything, but I kinda have a rule that says when someone is possessed by a demon, it’s time to call it a night. I know, I know, I’m square…”

Tess… Morwen… silenced him with a look. “I am no mere hell-ling. I am Morwen, First of Chaos. It has been centuries since I’ve had a body. Centuries since I’ve known a touch, a caress… the feel of bodily fluids on my face.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Peter said. “But trust me, everyone does that these days.”

“My host has indeed good taste,” Morwen said, eying him up and down. Even diminished past orgasm, his organ showed considerable promise. “Tis a pity you betrayed me once before. But, all things being considered, I shall be lenient and give you an opportunity to make up for your misdeed. It shall be accommodating to all of us…”

“Like I said, sorry, but I’ve really got to get back. I’m married, you know, it’s an open thing, but still, I don’t want to hurt her feelings by staying out with someone who has a sorceress in her head, it’ll make her feel bad, she’ll think I’m into head-sorceresses…”

Suddenly, Morwen looked great to Peter. Really great. Moments after her… possession… she had conjured herself a black lace lingerie that betrayed just a hint of her fine figure, diminishing into a loincloth at her waist, where it otherwise ended. The loincloth was fine silk, as translucent as a wedding veil, and Peter fixed his eyes on the triangle of pubic hair faintly visible through it, as well as the two dunes of cleavage which were outlined by the thin material. It struck him as just about the sexiest thing he could imagine, save for his own cum running down her face in white dollops. That was sexy, but he could never have imagined it.

Lust spell, he thought absently, because Peter had seen a number of sexy women—you were bound to, working in his line, which was probably why there seemed to be a thousand guys in the business and then a minority of impossibly hot babes in tightly clinging costumes, doing their part for recruitment quotas—and none of them had made him feel like the star of some eighties horndog comedy, willing to go to assassinate-the-Fuhrer lengths just to see a boob or touch someone’s butt.

“Yes…” Morwen drawled happily, observing as his cock spurred its tiredness to respond to her. “My body and I are in agreement. As is yours.”

“Yeah, strange story, but of the, ah, four of us, it seems I’m the one who just has to veto down my body on this one…”

Morwen drew inside her loincloth, showing him the golden ratio of her bare sex, its succulent seashell in perfectly portioned shades of pink, an irresistible curving and splitting that demanded to be traced, like a maze he could only hope to solve.

Lust spell, Peter thought again. But it wasn’t like that meant he wouldn’t enjoy it.

He dropped his face between her thighs. He started stroking her tits as he pressed his face close into her moist pussy. Morwen felt his tongue sliding between her cunt lips, moving in and out of her as if continually unable to believe her taste, her tightness. She had thought she’d been wet before, but now her pussy was flooding his mouth with her arousal.

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “Pleasure me! Worship me!”

He started ramming his tongue a little faster into her wet cunt. His hands cupped her tits and roughly squeezed them. He knew what he was doing to her. She knew he could feel the wild tension in her body.

Peter raised his head. She felt his tongue moving back up her body. His tongue flicked at her nipples through the negligee that served as what might jokingly be referred to as a costume. Then his body was on top of her as he bore her back onto the bed and she could feel his stiff cock against her pussy lips.

“I’m going to fuck you good, crazy pants,” he said. “I’m going to give it to you so good, you won’t need a fuck for another millennium!”

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “Delight me! Fuck me! Fuck me like you did my host!”

He moved forward and she felt his prick stretching her cunt walls. He thrust again. Her pussy was so wet that this time his cock went easily all the way into her cunt. She closed her walls tightly around his cock. She could feel every swollen inch of it. She started moaning as she kept her pussy lips closed tightly.

His cock felt so good—so fucking good!

Peter started to fuck her with quick thrusts. She could feel his balls bouncing against her with every thrust. His lips covered hers and he started driving his tongue into her mouth with the same hot rhythm he was using to fuck her. His hands slid beneath her. He grabbed her ass. His fingers slowly spread her asscheeks apart. She felt one finger stroking her asshole. She felt him making her squirm with hot desire. She started lifting her ass to take his cock deeper into her cunt.

“You’re fucking me well, my pet, my toy,” she moaned. “Oh, it feels so good to have that big cock of yours!”

He was really driving his prick deep into her sex. He was giving her more than he had promised her, more than she would’ve believed possible. Morwen felt herself shivering with every hard thrust. She wanted to keep from coming, but she could feel her pussy beginning to boil with embarrassing promptness. It had been eons since she had had a man, but now, with Peter, it would be mere seconds until she was sated.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “I’m coming. I’m going to come. Oh fuck, I can’t help it. I can’t fucking help it. Give it to me! Oh fuck, give it to MEEEEEEE!”

Peter rammed her even harder as she felt her juices flooding his cock, his prick getting even thicker inside her. He rammed her a little deeper with every stroke. His balls felt so heavy and she knew they were filled with cum for her.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she screamed. “Your seed! Give your seed unto my pussy!”

He held her ass tightly as he rammed her harder and harder. She felt his prick starting to jolt inside her. Her pussy was making wet sounds as he pushed into her. She gave him everything she had. She let him please her as much as he could.

“My queen,” he groaned. “My queen!”

He rammed her again and she felt his prick exploding into her pussy. His jism was like a soothing balm shooting into her sore pussy. Morwen worked her ass a little faster as she milked every drop of his thick cum. Without a body, she would not have believed that she could love the feel of cum so much. Now it was different. Now it seemed like she couldn’t get enough cum.

“Very good, my love,” Morwen purred, digging her fingernails into his skin as she held him tightly. He made the most amusing sounds of discomfort. “I see now that my host has not overrated your skills. But it’s only fitting that such a portentous act as returning me to this world would have such a fateful player behind it. If your work retains this quality, you shall make up for your crime to me in short order. Perhaps even within the confines of your mortal lifespan, my plaything.”