I was under arrest.
In the Hellions private gym outside Emma Frost’s private office of all places. Not really, as even in Frost Towers Emma Frost was simply a private citizen with no legal power to do anything. She was the second most powerful telepath on earth, former White Queen of the Hellfire Club, one of the top ten richest industrialists on earth, top three electronic security providers on the planet, and number one on the “Honey Badger does not give a f*ck” list.
So I was under arrest.
I mean I could leave, but she would broadcast to the world that I was not under her protection and leaving her front door at (time chop attached) and nature would take its course. SHIELD, Hydra, Kree, Skrull and now the Hellfire Club were all on the list of who would like to cut my tentacles off one inch at a time, deep fry them, and feed them to me in between questions they would really like answers to. So my imprisonment was completely volulntary from a certain point of view.
Then there was the little bit about me being gripped by the neck by Warpath, who was stronger in upper body strength than the Juggernaut, and a whole lot better skilled in hand to hand combat.
Are you really going to make me do this? You want me to break your neck Lovecraft?” Warpath’s low rumble would intimidate a block of iron, and you would expect Mirage’s look of stern disapproval to be about the possibility of my imminent death, but sadly it was not.
“Go ahead and break it. That way he won’t feel it when Miss Frost cuts his nuts off.” Mirage said, her own workout wear clinging to her in a way that should have made her sexy, if her eyes were not lit with that light that indicated she was looking at one death hung over like a shadow. You do not want a Valkyrie looking at you that way, not even a semi-retired part time Valkyrie.
A bright bubbling laughter came from the exercise bike where Magik worked out, pedalling her little bum off to “do something about all the convention food and too many caramel macchiatos”. “I can’t believe you got through a fight with the Juggernaut only short a little skin and blood, and you broke you neck in an ORGY! Echo, Marge and Destiny. Destiny doesn’t even like boys!”
I would have shrugged, but while I bench 650 kilos and can manage 1000kg with my legs, in Warpath’s hands I am as outclassed as I was against Juggernaut. Instead I twitched my tentacles in the Mind Flayer gesture that means “the universe is cruel, and suffering is infinite” (if you are curious, for a telepathic race, they have an entire language of body and tentacle gestures and pheromonal cues that argues they were visual/scent based before telepathic). I offered the defense that was, while probably not helpful to Mirages opinion of me, at least true.
“She doesn’t go for boys, but she goes for tentacles big time.” I offered.
Magik giggled, and Dani’s eyes went even flatter. “Break his neck.” Warpath flexed, and my C5 vertebra snapped.
Pain lanced through me and my whole body tried to flex to throw Warpath off, which he simply grunted and ignored. My mind would have lashed out at him with a reflexive killing move, if the White Queen hadn’t effectively psychically gelded me with a lock that was based on pain. Sure I could probably batter it down, probe enough to find the weak spots where my power might be able to pry at its edges and force a weak point, but the cost of doing so would be long term mental trauma. I was on a time out, and if I was a good boy there was a chance she would lift the block on her own. Being psychically gelded may also have contributed to my willingness to remain her prisoner rather than simply walk out the front door to find which among my growing list of enemies had the snatch team ready fastest. Warpath held me steady, and I could feel my Kree enhanced healing kicking in.
This time Warpath held my neck in anatomical/neutral, perfect C-spine alignment, and my bones began to fuse without putting compression on the nerve trunks for my neck and shoulder muscles. Last time when my neck broke, I was in an unnatural position and I healed wrong.
“Thanks Warpath. They fused right this time.” I said, and the big Amerindian warrior let me go.
“So, how do you break your neck in an orgy? What, were you going down on She Hulk or something?” Warpath asked casually. Mirage swatted his ass with a towel hard enough the crack sounded like a bullwhip not fabric, but he just blew her a kiss.
“Pigs, men are all pigs.” Mirage said.
Magik laughed harder. “Oh so virginal. When Echo got done telling us all in the sauna, you just about tackled Warpath in the hallway and everyone could hear you two. You guys did it in the conference room, not even a bedroom. I had to go kill some innocent batteries. I mean, this is the stuff of convention legends! Squid boy and even little Echo get to pop their V in a frigging orgy and I am still not allowed to date, how is that fair?”
Warpath grinned and shot me a thumbs up. Being tackled by Mirage and forced to play fireman to put out fires lit by Echoes telepathic overshare was apparently one he was willing to take for the team. Upstanding guy, Warpath.
Warpath frowned again and went back to his original question. “Still, you are super strong, none of those women are over two hundred, Echo and Destiny are a buck fifty tops, I don’t see how you broke your neck.” He turned and made it clear he wanted an answer.
Magik hopped off the bike and leaned on the big Hellion on the opposite side from Mirage and the little shameless Russian spilled what all three of me was desperate to keep hidden. “It seems that when squid boy here reaches his happy place, his telekinesis quits working, and when he hits his happy place, his tentacles whip all over the place uncontrollably, even if they have girls impaled on them!”
Magik was waving her arms overhead madly like seaweed in a storm, and Warpath’s eyes went wide. Magik, then Warpath, then Mirage broke into gales of laughter. It wasn’t funny at the time.
To set the record straight, this is what actually happened. Marge, Destiny, Echo and I retired to my suite to order room service after my fight with the Juggernaut. To be honest, while I had defeated Juggernaut and Black Tom Cassidy, and while Black Tom was pretty badly off with both arms compound fractured, there was nothing physically wrong with Juggernaut. My telekinesis, my super strength, speed, and all that fancy Kree hand to hand were as useless as the Kree blaster that could shoot down F-35 and kill M1 Abrams with a single trigger pull. I didn’t so much as bruise his skin, but I really did some damage to his mind that will do more than leave a mark. My body on the other hand was down about two kilos of muscle and blood, I had a dozen bones that were filled with hairline fractures that had sealed but only begun rebuilding lost density. There was enough blue blood on the stones and pavement around here to make it look like Gargamel! finally caught and consumed the whole Smurf village. I had been beaten like a front doormat and it showed.
Echo was badly bruised from the concussive blast that knocked her out, had some muscle strains from my telekinesis tossing her like a football to Marge and Destiny, and even had some damage from me ripping her collar off. More deep was the damage done by being collared again, and the fear of being returned to the Hellfire Club for reconditioning. They had made her a weapon to use against her progenitor, but Emma Frost had colected the Stepford Cuckoos and adopted them, beginning the long painful task of turning them from slave-weapons to free thinking human beings, as she insisted all mutants were. Being forcefully collared and stripped of her mental defenses had brought back a lot of old trauma, and Echo was leaking a lot of emotions about that. Marge and Destiny were normal humans, but unlike Echo and myself, they were fully integrated personalities with a lot of life experience.
We may have fancy super powers, but they had coping mechanisms and a depth of experience at dealing with things they had no control over. When you are a telepath, measuring strength is automatic. When you are a telepath in pain, reaching for strength is instinctive. In a way, it is what makes Mind Flayers so sociopathic, that instinct had been cauterized shut, leaving a telepathic hive mind forever and utterly isolated has severe emotional and developmental effects that leave the best of them sociopaths and the worst of them a whole lot worse. Destiny and Marge were strong. Strong in mental and emotional depth. And horny. My Mind Flayer brain was still dealing with the trauma of fighting a mind it could not even sense. That mind blanking helmet Juggernaut had is a Mind Flayers worst fear. My Kree brain was basically cave man in space; won fight, have sex now! My human self that was supposed to be the voice of reason held out right up until we had the room service and got full. Then Echo broke down and started to deal with the trauma of what could have happened. She reached out and grabbed me and kissed me HARD, and the need from her lanced into all four of us like a tidal wave.
At this point, I should tell you how I manfully took the lead, but my Mind Flayer and my daring secret agent self were two blushing virginal chior boys trying to hold back a bellowing blue space testicle with feet. My Kree was screaming HAREM, as my Mind Flayer was trying to defend its chastity like a ninth century nun in a Viking raid, while my inner weeb thought maybe it was time to hold hands and begin to tell each other we really liked each other and maybe think about a kiss.
Destiny and Marge on the other hand began to stroke Echo’s hair and kiss her. All of us began to undress each other as hands and tentacles began to caress gently and explore. Mind Flayers are asexual beings, they have been deliberately mutilated mentally to deny them the hive mind their biology clearly demands and make them artificially emotionally stunted by isolation. Kree are physically superhuman, with minds that are so superior to humanity you would wonder how they could have such a pathetic range of expression. We were noble warrior heroes. Sure, we were weapons laser focused, even our science was a joke. We made better weapons, shields and drives, but my human self understood that the great strides in science came from general research, and the war time specialty applications naturally followed. Kree had their curiosity and innovation removed as cruelly as the Mind Flayers. Their emotional range was similarly stunted, love was directed to the race, not individuals, pride was individual and racial, rage and hatred were allowed by comradeship was suspect and love was weakness.
Mind Flayer tentacles share touch empathy, and they have a range of pheromonal chemicals that induce, amplify, and share sensation between the affected. Our orgy was something that would confuse the hell out of a Hentai director, as its primary effect was a mental and emotional union between all involved. We merged. Forming a gestalt entity. Marge was a medium height mid thirties round woman who looked every inch the school teacher she was, yet the bright mind of a frustrated scientist burned within her. She had seen more dreams die than I had drawn breaths and had fought to win littlle victories to reach those kids she could in a system that seemed to care more about spinning truth than educating children. She had a passion for life, and a passion for people that was hard to express. She was emotionally open, but had been in enough abusive relationships to be cautious of her own choices. Destiny was a proud black business woman who had found whatever respect she won from her community for that success she lost for coming out as a lesbian. Being career driven, she found that her desire to focus on her business and her hobby left her little room for relationships, yet she had grown emotional tired of the hook up culture that seemed to be the alternative. She hungered for acceptance, for love, but one that didn’t want to take over her life.
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I was weaving us together into a meta-concert with depths that human telepaths could not equal, as with my tentacles we were becoming physically connected, our nerves and endocrine systems coming into synch as we became one mind. Then one flesh. The funny thing about wounds, they are attractive. This sounds bizarre, but when you come together, another persons pain is something you are drawn to, something you cannot resist. You must reach out to it, you must fill the gaping hole in the other with parts of yourself. You must cover their bleeding wounds with your soul as somehow you can never do with your own. There is a physical response to the cessation of pain. Heroine and the other narcotics cause euphoria in unwounded people by blocking the pain receptors and taking away the pain you live with every second of every day. Just that act, just shutting off the pain you didn’t even know you were in is enough to render you boneless in euphoria, a pleasure beyond pleasure that is a threat to yourself control and identity. Addiction is a very real and powerful effect of this.
The physical response to the cessation of emotional pain is arousal. As Marge and Destiny reacted to Echo’s wounds by embracing her physically and emotionally, and as I poured my power into her through Marge and Destiny as I had the howling need to address her pain but
the emotional range of a block of low fat cheese, I gave myself over to following their lead, letting their wisdom and experience guide my strength. When Echo’s lust drove into us like a spear piercing all self control, that is when my existing channeling through Marge and Destiny proved a godsent. Echo and I were both virgins in every consensual sense. She was not physically a virgin, some of her trauma made me understand that the Hellfire Club needs to die screaming, and that if I meet Juggernaut and Black Tom again, I will do worse than kill them. I had memories of sex, but both were not only false, but constructed by entities that had every intention of stunting and shaping my psyche, so they were not simply fake but suspect.
Marge and Destiny on the other hand were middle aged women who had come to terms with their own bodies, their own desires, and given up on caring what the world thought of them. While as physical different as two women could be, and not normally sexually compatible, their NEED to heal Echo caused them to drop their own defenses and bare their own wounds. When the arousal came, they had zero hesitation and the very well developed sense of their bodies and desires that allowed them to both slow us down enough to move our exploration into a mixed physical/mental/and emotional exploration and a set of sexual fantasies that blasted without any shame through all of us. Mouths fingers, phallus and tentacles all were in play. The ability to sense the pleasure of another, to feed off the pleasure you bring to another makes the line between pleasure and pain blur as you drive each other beyond the limits of the flesh to heights of passion that strip away all semblance of control or sanity. The Mind Flayer is an expert in mental torture, a skill you would think does not translate into lovemaking, but you would be wrong. It is a weapon, and the Kree are masters of every weapon. The Kree are space fuckboys. I seriously think their initial development of Faster Than Light travel (FTL) was a failed sex toy they simply used to conquer other planets as a way to pull chicks, or dudes, or any other gender that planet may have, Kree are fuckboys. Given a Mind Flayer’s ability to find weakness and excite the deepest and most profound reaction from sensory and emotional triggers found in their targets brain, and the Kree drive to seek pleasure as its own goal, shit got intense. Too intense.
Echo finally reclaimed her wounded sexuality and found acceptance of the self she had hidden most deeply, even from her mother and sisters. Being raised in a mental collective with other tortured copies of yourself as little more than psychic attack dogs, who were then sexually abused by their creators/captors out of the rage and fear they had towards the original Emma Frost left sets of mental and emotional scars that cannot be described in words. That Emma Frost was able to slowly bring the Stepford Cuckoos into independent and functional sanity is the greatest expression of her genius, of her skill, her discipline, and willpower that I can imagine. I would not know where to start, and know that I would fail horribly should I have attempted to wade into that pain and shame filled quagmire on my own. I was not alone. Marge and Destiny were just women who had lived long enough to be hurt deeply and often, and found a way to keep going. Strong enough in themselves to live with the wounds and dare to still care. When the parts of her she hid from Miss Frost, ashamed for her adopted mother to see that parts of her she hated for fear of being rejected, did not cause Marge or Destiny to draw away, but draw closer, she broke down and her acceptance broke her last barrier and by the luck of the Kree-Flayer, so far always bad, shattered the barrier between her and her true psionic potential. The Stepford Cuckoos were Emma Frost’s clones, but in a case of nature versus nurture, had never showed even a tenth of the power of their progenitor. What made Emma Frost the White Queen was a will hard as diamond, cold as the ice in the Asgardian Hell.
Echo tapped into that true power for the first time as she hit a mind shattering orgasm while impaled on my big blue Kree smurf-maker, while Destiny and Marge were both rocking on two tentacles apiece. Echo’s orgasm shared inside the metaconcert drove all of us over the brink, and the psychic blast of Echo’s scream blasted the wards I had placed on the hotel room like Juggernaut through the Waffle House Wall.
This is when I discovered a few things.
Thing one. Emma Frost can transform into a living diamond. I know this because as a living diamond she punched through my door. A security door a normal human SWAT team would have to use a breaching charge or battering ram to pound down, she just shattered with a kick and punch to storm into the room. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY DAUGHTER!” Her transformation back to flesh was accompanied by a lance of psionic energy that only didn’t kill me because she realized the pain was flowing into Destiny, Marge, and Echo as well as me. This is when my Kree reflexes, Mind Flayer tentacles, and yes, the loss of telekinesis that comes with orgasm did me wrong. Do not whip your head around if you have two women impaled on your tentacles, or you will break your own neck. At C5 vertebra if you are interested.
As my neck snapped, and all three women cried out in sympathetic pain, four other Stepford Cuckoos, Ann, Bernadine, Charline, and Deborah all piled into the room and stopped in shock. Destiny and Marge leaned forward and embraced Echo, tears of joy on all three faces as Emma Frost began to massage her forehead and mutter to herself something about being “Too old for this high school drama, did anyone ask me if I wanted to become a parent? No. They did not.”
That was when I was saved by the bell. Or telephone call. “What is it, I am on do not disturb for a reason.” Emma snapped into her phone. She listened for a second. “My office, give me ten minutes then send him up. Send me Warpath, I need him to babysit.” She turned to us and stated. “Ladies, you will forgive me, but I have to have a few words with my daughter, and a few more with your little tentacle friend. It seems they will have to wait because dear Professor Charles Xavier has sent his pet attack dog Logan to give me his wisdom about what I should and should not do in my own house. Please, accept the hospitality of Frost Towers until I can return your dates to you, in one condition or another.” She said with a glance that actually wilted my otherwise unshakable Kree sidearm. That is how I came to be waiting in the Hellions private gym with Warpath while Emma Frost talked with Echo about what happened, and did a deep dive into how her mind and personality were reacting to shocks and changes she had intended Echo to be a whole lot farther along her therapy before encountering.
I was still in the Gym with Warpath, doing leg workouts as my neck hurt too badly to use my arms or core, when Echo was taken by Mirage, Magik and her sisters to the sauna for “girl talk.” This had been about the time Wolverine stalked into Miss Frost’s office, stopping to glare at me. Normally being glared at by a murder machine like Logan would be intimidating, but I had just been caught by the White Queen balls deep in her daughter. Honestly, Galactus couldn’t intimidate me more than she could at this point. Logan was so far down the list he was in the footnotes. I was left alone until a smug Warpath, generally irritated Mirage and smirking Magik eventually came back. After Warpath had rebroken my neck and I had begun to heal, he started to talk to me seriously. The man was a warrior born, I began to appreciate how the Apache got their reputation.
“Look stud, you are a mutant. Your physiology has potentials that are as dangerous to you as they could be useful. You broke your own neck. Look at you. Your legs and abs are strong as all get out, but your upper body and neck are weak. In a normal fighter that is survivable, you will probably be speed focused, maybe a weapon user and rely more on kicks for hand to hand damage, but you have those dammed tentacles, and with a weak upper body and neck, you are going to break your neck again.” He pointed to my tentacles. “Sure it’s a funny story now, but you genrated enough power with those to snap your neck. Instinct rules in combat, and you will do it again, and die because you put out force with an extremity your core could not handle.” Warpath told me. I tapped my washer board blue abs. “My core is blue steel, you can grate cheese on these abs.” I protested, causing Mirage to roll her eyes and Magik to leer openly. Warpath on the other hand was not diverted. He poked my arms and legs in sequence. “These pull inward on your core here,” He said poking me in the abs, but he continued. Now he poked my tentacles. “These, on the other hand, or tentacle, pull here.” He poked me in the still healing neck, then at my back and upper chest.
“Which is supported here, and you are so weak, I am surprised that big squid head of yours doesn’t fall off if you nod hard. Not surprised you broke your own neck, although if you have to die by breaking your own neck making two women cum at the same time, I will tell the story of your death around the campfire when I am old and grey.” We fist bumped and Mirage thew a water bottle at him, which he caught out of the air without looking and took a long drink. “So, starting tomorrow, your ass is mine, and we will put that body into shape. Next time you face Juggernaut, well you will still probably die, but you at least won’t break your neck at the after party.” Warpath finished, somewhat unhelpfully. At that point my mind felt a blast of pain as a mental scream lanced into it. “YOU WILL NOT TELL ME HOW TO RUN MY OWN HOUSE CHARLES!” Mirage also winced, confirming that her powers were at least psi-adjacent.
What followed was the sound of something slamming into a desk, sounds of combat and an bestial howl pain. Wolverine was limping from the office, blood streaming from his eyes and ears.
“You are going to regret that bitch!” Wolverine said, doing up his belt. “You are the one with a phone shoved up his ass Logan, that makes you the bitch. Next time either bring a smaller phone or lubricant if you want to be in the room while your master tries to tell me what to do in my own house!” Mirage and Magik looked shocked. Warpath snickered and traded an amused glare with a death glare from Wolverine, who was still walking funny, but at least his pants were done up. Don’t cop an attitude with the second most powerful telepath in the world in the room with you, if your back up is in another state. Emma Frost, the White Queen, leader and instructor of the Hellions and mother of five clones looked at me long and hard before nodding. I felt the blocks placed in my mind fade slowly and gently so my returning power did not damage me. “So, it seems Charles Xavier thinks I am not to be trusted with an alien telepath of unknown potential, nor am I permitted, permitted! To allow you contact with, in his words, ‘the clones in my care’. As if that bald has been has the right to tell me how to handle my own daughters. I have changed my mind. You are now under my instruction. You have your own conflicts to deal with, and I will not have you dragging my other students into them. That being said, you are not without potential, and your training thus far is pathetic. To allow you to walk free as you are is to send a toddler wrapped in dog treats into the hellhound pits. You are now my student. You, Echo and I will have a long and thorough therapy session along with your two paramours to make sure that what you are doing is healthy, sustainable, consensual or if I am required to mitigate the damage you hormonal mental infants have done to each other.”
I had a home. Mind Flayers cannot cry. Kree can, and my body wanted to. Emma Frost’s eyes went wide as my emotions hit her like a brick. She looked at me with
ancient and weary eyes before slowly shaking her head. “Warpath, see to his physical training, and try to beat some sense into him. I will not have him broken by brain dead mercenaries before I can begin his actual education.” She was cold as ice physically, but her mind bathed the raw emotional chaos pouring out of me and gradually brought my shields back up to coherence. The protective embrace of her ice cold intellect should not have been comforting. One third of me reproduced by cerebral parasite, one third of me was grown as vat clones with mental conditioning that emerged as a physical adult with imprinted memories, and the remaining third was a fake personality that knew it was fake. I get how Echo and the Stepford Cuckoos imprinted on Emma Frost. In the world of psychic predators, she is something of a mother figure. In a goddess of wrath and ice sort of maternal way.
Fuck me. I think I am imprinting on the White Queen. I really am going to need therapy.