Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Victor Von Doom (Phd) seized power in Latveria (formerly Sokovia) with weapons he developed from abandoned HYDRA tech mixed with Vibranium, he pressured the UN and SHIELD to pass the Sokovia Accords on threat of global war. Many Eastern states stood firm in support of him.  Fearing the beginning of World War Three, the UN turned against the Avengers, and all those like them, such as mutants. Despite staunch opposition from the Federation of Genosha, the UN, supported by Tony Stark, passed the accords. This resulted in Genosha leaving the UN, an alternative Avengers Civil War and a mutant uprising. Those who did not seek asylum in the only nation that would take them, were captured, as were the humans who aided them.  It is almost as if the dictator has ulterior motives in having all the world's superheroes and supervillians incarcerated where they can not stop his plans.  Perhaps he is more than he seems. While the Avengers, Fantastic Four, and the X-Men rot in prison, gears turn in the Latverian War machine.

Jessica Jones sat secured in her seat on the prison transport Quinjet, on delivery from the courthouse to The Raft Penitentiary. She was dressed in her usual gothy black leather jacket and jeans from her arrest (not that she’d have worn anything else to court if given the option) but soon enough she’d be trading that for a bright orange jumpsuit. Already it was harshly made clear to her she was a prisoner, what with the heavy set of vibranium cuffs around her wrists and the power dampening collar.

Jessica was at the wrong place at the wrong time when she witnessed the murder of Susan Alison. It had started as a simple missing persons case, and then became a fight to uncover a conspiracy in the heart of New York. She got too close and they exposed her and her abilities to the world. It wasn’t long before S.H.I.E.L.D (or more accurately the shadowy 1984 like organisation that stood in the place of the organization that once at least pretended to care) came to her door, tased her, and put an inhibitor collar around her neck then dragged her off to a courthouse in the back of a windowless van. 

Jessica was taking no shit during her brief trial but that hardly helped her case. She was forced to be silent at the banging of the judge’s gavel. 

“For the crime of unsanctioned vigilantism in callus of the Sokovia Accords, I sentence this Living Weapon of Mass Destruction to indefinite imprisonment on the Raft, effective immediately!” yelled the judge.

Jessica felt a swell of anger bubble up inside of her. She wasn’t exactly shocked at her sentence, but still the idea of spending her life behind bars with the most dangerous women on Earth was the farthest thing from appealing possible. All she could manage was a “You can go fuck yourself-“ before the heavily armed guards grabbed her and dragged her out of the courtroom. In the end, Jessica was just yet another victim of the practically totalitarian Sokovia Accords. 

“Fuck the Alisons. If it wasn’t for their fucking case I wouldn’t be here.” She thought as the guards applied her shackles. This was their fault in her mind at the moment. She was fine with the usual sneaking around the city at night helping people get proof their spouse was cheating on them or whatever other stupid thing they needed that helped pay her rent, but no of course she had to get dragged into a conspiracy. 

Jessica sat silently contemplating the sudden pang of guilt in her chest when she thought about where she was headed. Just a few years ago she’d been forced to send her best friend Trish to The Raft when she went on a superpower driven murder spree. She had done everything she could to reason with her, but she had to make the tough decision and it remained with her constantly. Now they’d both be housed in the exact same prison. She’d missed Trish, but running into her under these circumstances wasn’t very ideal. Knowing her luck they’d likely end up as cellmates. 

She wasn’t alone on the Quinjet that was travelling towards the prison. There were three other ladies travelling with her and she quickly assumed it was more affordable to transport multiple convicts at once. One of them appeared to be a young girl, clothed in a purple archery suit that gave the impression that she had just left the gym. Jessica pondered what she might have done after noticing that she appeared innocent and uneasy in her seat.

With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Kate's large eyes flashed all around the aircraft she was traveling on. She was terrified. She felt as though she was being choked by the seat belt because it was excessively tight across her chest. She wanted to shout for a guard to come and assist her, but she quickly realized that no one would care if she died in her seat, and that realisation made her shut up.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment, Kate had been at a socialite gathering her mother made her come to, and before she knew it, she was involved in all sorts of criminality alongside her hero, Clint Barton. Unbeknownst to her. she was repeatedly violating the Sokovia Accords, and her case was swift and hopeless. Manslaughter, property damage, and theft were her supposed crimes. The words kept repeating in her head, almost physically hurting her. Clint had gotten away scot free, which angered her even more. She had not expected an Avenger to put her in danger like Clint had, nor had she expected to go to a women’s prison filled with criminals. Dangerous female criminals. 

She wished she had her bow with her, so she at least had a fighting chance. 

Sitting next to Kate was Mary MacPherran aka Titania. Dressed in the most modernly impractical and extravagant outfit imaginable and wearing far too much makeup, she was still dressed to impress. The mint green suit she wore with curious patterns had soft little spikes at her shoulders that hit the sitting people next to her. She would be all set to walk any high fashion runway if it wasn’t for the chains and looks of pure rage on her face. 

Titania was fuming. The former social media influencer and beauty product company owner was now on her way to spend 20 years behind bars. The Raft of all places! As if being an inmate wasn’t enough, she’d have to be surrounded by horny lesbians 24/7! It was so unfair! The idea of being starved of attention (it took a guard telling her she wouldn’t have her phone in prison for her to realize that) for so long physically made her sick. And if life couldn’t get any worse, apparently Jennifer Walters was there! 

Titania had been able to stay in the clear of the accords for a while. It wasn’t all that hard really. There was that one time when she’d violently stormed out of traffic court but her lawyer cleared that up for her. She just spent most of her time hating “that bitch” She-Hulk because in her mind that woman was the absolute worst. In fact, after Jen was sent to prison for using her powers, Titania was the loudest voice in the media talking about how great it was that “That bitch was locked away from society.” In fact she even made a T-shirt of Jen behind bars. 

Titania did come under fire for the level of her pure vitriol towards the green lawyer, some found it somewhat off putting just how obsessed she was with her even after she’d been banished from society. But most looked past it. 

No. What her first big mistake that would lead to her downfall was using cheap toxic substances in her beauty products. She of course claimed that “She had no idea” and tried to throw really everyone else under the bus. The issue went to trial and she probably would have only faced a hefty fine if she hadn’t risen from her seat and tried to crush the judge with a desk. Now having used her powers to try and kill someone, she now had the special honour of being an official living WMD and worrying about a meagre fine went out the window. 

Titania, now with a dampener collar on for everyone’s protection, made sure to livestream her new trial and was confident she’d get off with a small slap on the wrist. Which is why she was in utter horror when the judge said

“For the crime of attempted murder, destruction of government property, and breaking the Accords, I sentence you to 20 years without parole! You will serve your sentence at The Raft!” 

Titania had been dragged out yelling “You’re all just a bunch of jealous haters!” and that it was so unfair. And that’s how she ended up here, unfairly as well.

The other passengers on the aircraft were being stared at by Monica Rambeau. She was trying to discern who each of them was, starting with Titania. Even though the lavish clothing the person next to her was wearing was almost painful to her eyes, she had to chuckle at how absurd she was. She had heard about this person on the news. She had also heard about Kate Bishop and her ventures with Clint Barton. Having access to inside information was a perk of working with S.W.O.R.D. She had been attempting to identify the other woman but did not recognise her. She could have used her spectral vision to check if there was anything special about her if she weren't sporting this stupid collar. But maybe, rather not. Enough people already got hurt because of her, which is why she turned herself in to the authorities before anyone else could be harmed in the first place. 

After encountering Wanda Maximoff and the Maximoff anomaly, Monica’s entire life had been turned upside down with her newly acquired abilities. She had no idea how to use or control them, and pretty quickly people started getting hurt. Monica had done what she believed was best and turned herself in to her employer because she had no one to aid her. The Avengers would not return her calls and Carol Danvers was nowhere to be found. She expected help from S.W.O.R.D, possibly some form of seclusion until she had better control of her abilities. She did not expect to be sent to the Raft. Evidently, S.W.O.R.D already had a case built against her because of everything that happened with Wanda, so her own surrender served as the ideal icing on the cake for her punishment.

Monica could not help but blame Wanda. She had done everything in her power to make sure that Maximoff wouldn’t be seen as the villain, for people to understand why the witch had done what she did. But now Monica’s life was ruined because of her own kindness, and she was bitter. Maybe she had made a mistake in trusting Wanda? If she had worked together with Hayward more this whole thing wouldn’t have happened. But Hayward was a dick now. Before she would have put her trust in him. Recently, she seemed to have been let down by a lot of old friends. 

She fixed her jaw angrily and stared down the other people before her eyes met with the dark, pupil-less eyes of the final prisoner. Although she was accustomed to encountering extraterrestrials because of Carol, something about this creature's look unnerved her. Though he was unmistakably friendlier in appearance, she reminded Monica of Vision. She seemed to be a synthezoid of some kind, too. She was tempted to lean forward and ask, but she refrained because she didn't want to make a bad first impression and it might possibly be a bit rude. But it was unquestionably fascinating and she found it difficult to look away. 

Nebula clenched her fist angrily in her seat and glared at the woman checking her out. “What are you looking at?” She said in an angry, low voice. Thankfully, she got the other to look away hurriedly, embarrassed. She would remember her face though when they got to the prison. Once she would be allowed to walk around Nebula would visit her again, and jam a shiv through her ribcage. The thought of this calmed her down and she sighed.

This wasn’t her first time in a prison and she knew there would be a lot of people here who would want to kill her. Being the daughter of Thanos, she had always been hated. By the time her father’s plan to take the Infinity Stones for himself started to take flight and he was eventually killed by Ronan the Accuser, she had made a lot of mortal enemies. Her rage after her father’s death was uncontrollable. It hadn’t taken long for the Sovereign to find her and arrest her. Then she had ended up on Terra, going to an all women’s prison in the middle of the ocean. This was something she could not have predicted. 

The Terrans had always been behind with their technology and knowledge of other planets that inhabited their solar system, but since The Avengers entered the picture Terra seemed to have made rapid progress. They made several extra terrestrial connections and bonds including accepting and taking in prisoners who had clashed with the Avengers personally. When word got out that they had a maximum security prison that could hold even the most powerful villains and heroes, it quickly became a sought-after location for incarcerating all kinds of the galaxy's most loathed offenders. And Nebula was one of them.

Nebula was aware that this was only one more challenge to conquer and that anyone standing in her way would be eliminated. Maybe she could stage an escape. An upside of being mostly made of cybernetic enhancements is that wouldn’t easily be taken down. Her father might now be dead, but she was not ready to give up on taking revenge on behalf of him. She longed to see Gamora again, soon. Despite the fact that she hadn't seen her sister in a long time, her anger had only manifested more and she yearned for the day when she could pierce her heart and stare into her eyes as the life left them. That would teach her. Traitor.

They all prepared themselves for landing as the plane began to descend. A gigantic spherical structure in the middle of a vast ocean would have been visible from the plane's windows had it had any. Rough waves crashed against the outside walls, which were strong enough to withstand the force. The Raft had several landing zones for storing the Quinjets. There were no doors on other entrances on the platform. A circle in the heart of the raft opened and allowed the plane to enter.

After they had safely landed, a dozen guards came into the cabin of the plane, all armed with big guns and protective gear. They were all female guards, Monica noted with interest. Then, the sound of heels could be heard on the plane’s loading ramp. All the prisoners looked up as a short woman in a skirt and blouse entered, her black hair flowing down her shoulders. Her posture was immaculately straight and she gave each of them a wide smile. “Hello darlings. I’ve come to personally welcome you today. Normally I wouldn't do this, but since all of you are such special visitors, I felt compelled to. I'm hoping my universal translator is effective so you can all understand me.” She mentioned the universal translator bit while looking directly at Nebula. The tone of her voice was shrill and annoying and several of the prisoners cringed and grit their teeth. It was like hearing nails on a chalkboard. Kate was reminded strongly of a high school principal she had once had. “Welcome to the Raft! My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine…You're right, it's a mouthful. You can just call me Val. Except don’t do that.” She paused, as if she were waiting for them to laugh, but nobody did.  “I’m the warden of this beautiful prison.”

She crossed her arms. Her nails were painted blood red. “I hope we can all have a wonderful time here together and learn from each other. Now follow me please.”  Stumbling could be heard as each of the prisoners was escorted out by 2 guards each, and one in front and in the back.They all had chains around their hands and feet, and some had collars around their necks.

Monica looked around the large entrance hall, which was filled with all sorts of pallets with supplies and more guards stood post. Unexpectedly, there was a big window on the right that showed a sizable yard. In it, prisoners were chatting among themselves and hanging around in groups. They were all without shoes and clad in faded orange jumpsuits. Monica wondered if this was a yard thing only, or if the whole prison was barefoot. She found the idea repulsive.

After being led down a lengthy hallway, they entered a room. Val made the guards move behind them after telling the prisoners to form a horizontal line. Long metal rods sprung from the ground with the push of a button. As their handcuffs vibrated and were separated, connecting to the poles, the women stood with their arms and legs wide apart, as if making snow angels. “Cut!” Val suddenly barked, her voice carrying through the empty room. All the ladies yelled in protest, with the exception of Nebula and Jessica, as the soldiers began to strip them of their clothing with razor-sharp fabric cutters. They were not gentle nor did they respond to the pleas of the prisoners in front of them or their cries of pain as the scissors dug close to their skin.

Monica’s jaw was set and she barely controlled her anger as her clothing was ripped open. When the last article of her clothing had been ripped to shreds, and her dignity in tow, she held back her tears best she could. The guards admired the sight of her bare ebony skin glistening under the harsh light of the room. 

“Please, this violates my rights as an American citizen.” Kate whimpered, meanwhile, her face streaked with tears. Prison was so much worse than she thought! Kate flushed after her costume was aggressively undone, revealing her purple undergarments which evidently matched the outfit she’d been wearing. “Cute.” Remarked the guard handling her before getting rid of those as well. Poor Kate had never been so humiliated in her life. 

Nebula remained unfazed through the process save for when the guard would be too rough and she’d yell at them, to which she was tased for it on one occasion. The shock barely stung her. She’d been through pain far worse than that.

The largest commotion came from Titania, who was loudly wailing in protest. “How dare you cut my clothes! Do you know how much these cost? These are worth more than your life. If you touch me I'll shred you to pieces!” The guard only rolled her eyes and continued on. Titania’s elaborate outfit took the longest to remove. The guard handling her quickly grew impatient, and thus was far more sloppy in how she did it. Several times the scissors would graze against the convict’s skin and she would desperately try to move, but the vibranium cuffs made that impossible. Through the process, it physically hurt her to see her expensive wear so callously cut apart and then thrown in the corner. Titania’s caramel breasts flopped out of her bra as it was cut open. 

Jessica sighed in irritation as the guards did away with her leather jacket and jeans. She wasn’t too shy to show her body, as she already knew to expect this level of humiliation in prison, but it still didn’t make this very easy. Her shirt was torn off, and then her black bra and underwear. She hated to part with her leather jacket which she’d had so long. Part of her hoped she would somehow be able to get it back, but she realised that was never going to happen. Jessica shivered slightly as the cold air of the room made direct contact against her pale skin, her gothic beauty exposed for all the room to see.

After the ‘undressing’ was complete, Val gestured to the guard standing next to her. “This is Officer Sarah Weaver, she’ll be the one conducting your search this morning! Say hi.” 

Sarah was a fit caucasian woman in her early thirties with auburn hair and hazel eyes. She wore a specialised version of the guard outfit that made her stand out from her underlings. She’d formerly worked as a low level S.H.I.E.L.D Detention centre security guard before getting the suspiciously massive promotion as head of an entire cell block at The Raft. She was probably the farthest you could get from an honourable woman, being more than happy to take bribes or more sexual favours from the inmates she was supposed to be watching over. 

Monica looked to her left, where the young girl was standing, sobbing. She felt for her. “Hey man, this isn’t okay. We might be prisoners but we’re still human.” She connected her eyes with the officer, pleading. 

Sarah locked eyes with her. “Yes you’re human. But you’re also property of this prison, so we can really do whatever we’d like with you.”

Monica tried to challenge the woman with her stare, but eventually gave up. She was right, she supposed. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t resist the humiliating experience. At least all the guards were female.

Nebula stared at the sobbing and protesting women and rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t they understand this was just part of the process? Resisting would only make it worse. She was so used to being taken apart and put together again, that this strip search was nothing to her. She cleared her throat. “I think you should start with the crying one.” That would teach her to stop being such a pussy.

Kate sniffled and looked at the blue, skinny person next to her in shock. “No, please.” She wriggled in place, unable to move. Officer Weaver stepped forward and around Kate, a smirk on her face. “She’s a feisty one. But I don’t like crying.” She grabbed the girl’s chin and lifted it up. “Tears won’t help you here, sweetheart. In fact, it will only invite the other women to make you their bitch. You gotta be stronger than this.” She wiped Kate’s cheek and rubbed the wetness of her tears between her fingers before wringing her hands together. “I would say this will be over quickly, but I prefer taking my time.” 

Sarah stepped forwards and with a loud SNAP put on her latex gloves, then placed her hands on Kate’s shoulders before moving up, running them up her back and untying the braid Kate was wearing. Her long, curly dark hair fell over her bare shoulders. “Look, much better. You look pretty with your hair like this.”  She whispered in her ear before moving her hands through the locks, checking for anything Kate could have hidden in there. Kate’s eyes widened in shock as the strip search continued, while everyone in the room either turned their eyes away or looked into space. 

Sarah then suddenly laid one hand upon Kate’s right breast.

Kate stopped crying, paused in a moment of pure shock. She attempted to say something in response to the guard’s touch but no words came out.

Sarah continued on, gently sliding her hand down the archer’s chest and across her abdomen until her fingers were just barely away from the other woman’s sex. 

“I-I’m n-not hiding anything down there” Kate managed to say, though it came out a meek little whimper

Sarah looked at Kate and said “Well, we’ll see about that.”

What followed was a very uncomfortable experience (for Kate at least) as Sarah took her time searching up her most private parts for any possible contraband. Though by the look on the guard’s face, it was clear she took far too much pleasure in this task to think it was just part of the job. She liked scared newbies like Kate. They were all so much more fun to introduce to the cold harsh realities of living in an all women prison, and then offering them “protection” from the mean inmates. This had been her ‘business plan’ since the beginning of her employment here.

Kate tried her best through the search to even be somewhat calm. Strangely to her though, a small part of her enjoyed the woman’s touch. That fraction of pleasure though was lost behind a thick wall of tears and whimpering.

“If you think that was bad, you have no idea what it’s gonna be like when you’re actually with other prisoners. I can promise you they won’t be as gentle as I am.” Sarah teased before moving on to the next woman, which was Monica.

Monica had been eating herself up, unable to do anything. She felt horrible seeing the young girl being manhandled by the guard. It was unacceptable and she knew this would affect Kate going forwards. Something like this could ruin a person. And Monica was angry. She connected her eyes with Sarah and challenged her. She wasn't even afraid, just shaking with rage. 

"You will go to hell for this." She whispered underneath her breath.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” Sarah stepped closer.

"Fuck. You." Monica said and she spit in Sarah's face.

Sarah smiled and wiped the spit from her cheek “You’re quite a tough girl. I like that.” She stepped behind her and roughly grabbed her shapely ebony arse. “You really should be nicer to me. I am the one with all the power her after all.”

Monica felt uneasy by her very inappropriate touch.

Sarah reached her other hand around and began massaging Monica’s breasts 

“What would I be hiding there?” Monica spit out, her voice shaking.

Sarah knew this was unnecessary but what was the inmate gonna do? “It’s just part of procedure!” She lied.

“The procedure of being a pervert?!”

“Yeah sure.” 

Monica continued being felt up and she felt her blood boiling. She had to do something. But what? She was unable to move. Any attempts at escape would just hurt her, because the vibranium cuffs were too strong. 

No, instead, she would save this anger, and when it was time, she would get this woman back. So that's what she repeated in her head until the search was over and that's what kept her sane. Until…

Sarah walked around to Monica’s front and got on her knees. She brought her fingers between the prisoner’s legs and looked to see her reaction as she rubbed the tip of her index finger against her clit.

Monica let out an involuntary whimper. "What the fuck are you doing?" She whispered, alarmed.

“I already said. Making sure you aren’t hiding anything” Sarah casually said as she continued rubbing.

Valentina cleared her throat, making Kate, who was still crying, jump and Monica breathe out suddenly.

"Miss Weaver, we are in a little bit of a time crunch. I don't want to disrespect your…craft. But please, could you hurry it up?"

Sarah sighed as she stopped and slowly stood up. “We’ll continue this later.” She said to Monica before moving to the next inmate. 

Nebula stared at Sarah with unblinking, big dark eyes. She kept her nude blue cybertronic body perfectly still and calm despite what was lying just ahead.
"Now what do we have here?" The prison guard looked her up and down. "I like her." Sarah said to no one in particular. "I've never seen someone like you." She moved closer to Nebula, cupping her face. "Beautiful."

No one had ever called Nebula this. She knew it was probably a manipulation tactic, or something she said to catch her off guard, so she stayed silent. But the words did not not affect her.

"And very well mannered. Unlike some." Sarah shot a disgraceful look at Titania, who was still trying desperately to break free. "I'll make this quick”

Nebula felt a strange tingling sensation in her core as the admittedly pretty Terran caressed her naked body. It was a sensation entirely new to her. The feeling only grew as Weaver searched her vagina, moving her fingers along the folds of her lips. At that moment Nebula realised this must be what building up to an orgasm felt like. Being an intergalactic terrorist doing her father’s every bidding left her little time to actually enjoy any semblance of this. In fact, it wouldn't even be a surprise to her if Thanos had specifically rewritten her brain to not seek this out during one of the many times she was enhanced, as it could provide a distraction. All she wanted at this moment was for the sweet release that could only be given by the guard’s hand…

But suddenly Weaver stopped. “Alright you’re clear, inmate” 

Nebula hissed at her in rage. Just as it felt the sensation was coming to an edge she stopped. “Did I say you could stop?!” she scowled, her naturally bossy side coming through without her having the time to think of what that question implied 

“Oh you don’t want me to stop?” Weaver teased. Good to know that this inmate would enjoy some private meetings in her office when she adjusted to prison a little bit. Also it was nice knowing that if she couldn’t have fun right now neither could she. It was like torture for the wicked guard to be going through the process of roughly searching the naughty women but not be able to actually enjoy any of it. She couldn’t wait to get back to her office for a bit of “personal time”. “Next up…”

Titania thrashed in her bonds, her beautiful caramel breasts on full display for everyone in the room.

She wished she could break free of the cuffs and then crush every single last guard in this hellhole. She didn’t belong here. Being stripped naked and forced to comply as a random woman felt her up was a nightmare. Just to make things worse, this guard obviously found this all a turn on. 

Officer Weaver stopped and admired the celebrity’s well endowed shape. She liked this one already. Her spoiled too-good-for-prison attitude would make her all the more fun to play with when she got a chance. Weaver stepped behind Titania and began the search.

“This is unacceptable! I demand to be let go this instant!” She yelled at the warden

“Yeah I’ll get right on that” replied Val sarcastically while watching the search unfold. “Yell at me again and things will get a whole lot worse for you” 

The guard ruffled her hair in search of contraband. “Get your hands off me-“ Titania began to cry before suddenly letting out an audible gasp as Weaver brought one finger up her bum. The sensation of being poked and prodded…back there was beyond uncomfortable for the influencer. Much like Kate a little earlier, this intrusion upon such a private part of her body left her speechless. It felt to Titania as if this search would never end. 

When it finally drew to a close, Titania did her best to push what had just happened out of mind and returned to her obnoxious complaining as a sort of distraction. “You can’t treat me like this! I’m a…”

“Can you shut up?” Jessica loudly interrupted after having just about hit her limit. Being in prison was bad enough, she didn’t need to listen to this bitch’s constant whining. “Do you think any of us are happy about being here?!” 

Titania ignored her question but did choose to quiet down for now. 

Weaver moved to Jessica “Alright, it’s your turn now! Now be a good girl for me and hold still. Or don’t. I don’t care either way actually, but you might.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. She already knew this was going to be an awful experience, but she would not give Weaver the satisfaction of breaking down like most of the prisoners (save for Nebula) around her.

The search went along just like the others before, until;

“Someone is a dirty girl” Weaver said as she easily slid her finger up Jessica’s fine arse. “You like being f’ed up here?”

“Look I’m not interested in being lectured on being dirty by the same guard who just felt up 4 people in a row without consent.” Jessica snapped. This guard made her skin crawl. 

Weaver grew steadily annoyed when she couldn’t get a reaction out of her. With Nebula earlier she had the mental excuse of her being a weird (albeit sexy) cyborg alien, but Jessica was just some normal human like most of the inmates. She made an annoyed sigh but then decided to take this as a challenge. 

Jessica bit her lip as Officer Weaver came around and went up her sex. Weaver was talented at pressing all the right buttons, but Jessica absolutely could not let herself react. She wasn’t going to be anyone’s bitch here, no matter what. Weaver used a second finger now and gently rubbed in and out her vagina (basically fingering her under the guise of a search).

Val coughed a second time. “I do believe I already mentioned that I would like you to hurry this along. Don’t make me remind you again.”

Weaver sneered and did her best to disguise her upset tone “Sorry ma’am. Thought I found something is all.”

With that she pulled her fingers out and stood back up to attention.

Jessica exhaled in relief. Thank god that was over! She felt physically drained now having been searched literally everywhere. 

Now that everyone had been thoroughly searched and was starting to shiver from either emotion or just sheer coldness, Valentina clapped in her hands, making all of them jump. “Great, now that that’s done, we’re going to move on to the next step.” She waved her hand in the air and the guards all moved towards a different room. The intake room was silent besides the soft sobs of Kate Bishop. Valentina looked at her watch impatiently. The guards returned with big mesh bags, filled with an orange prison uniform, undergarments, and a pillow. 

“Now, I’m going to let you girls get dressed one by one. This means your cuffs will be taken off. And I urge you to put your clothes on and shut up and don’t try anything. We will not hesitate to hurt you.” She looked at each of the naked women, making sure they understood. “Perfect.” It was clear the woman enjoyed having the upper hand over the powerless prisoners.

One after the other, the women were freed from their uncomfortable cuffs. They all complied, being smart enough to realise that they stood no chance against the huge number of guards. Nebula debated making a run for it, but decided that it was pointless.

The prison uniform itself consisted of an orange jumpsuit with their prison number over their left breast and then a pair of panties with “Property of The Raft” stamped in big black letters over the bum. Titania made a look of pure disgust as she put on the hideous outfit. It was bad enough for her to have gone from luxury to this, but there was something extra humiliating about literally being marked the property of this prison. 

“Uhm, where are the shoes?” Kate spoke up, a whimper still present in her voice. 

“There aren’t any. The prisoners have previously used shoes, socks and bras to hurt each other, so we do not distribute them anymore.” Valentina replied, matter of factly. 

Kate looked shocked. “But…”

“Alright, I’m going to read out your names and then assign you each your number.” Valentina interrupted. “If you cannot remember your number, that is your problem. Failing to respond to it will result in dire punishment”

“Bishop, Kate: #A01-2005. Rambeau, Monica: #A16-1982. Jones, Jessica: #N17-2015. MacPherran, Mary: #S03-1984. Nebula: #A57-1985”

Kate didn’t quite catch what her number was, but she was far too terrified of the Warden to ask for her to repeat herself and just started internally panicking.

“Anyway, now that you’re all dressed, it’s time to enter the prison! Isn’t that great fun.” Valetina smiled as if she truly couldn’t imagine a better place to be. “This also means we will be saying goodbye. I do not enter the prison, for my own safety. But we have got you a guide!”

Valentina nodded and one of the guards opened a side door, which opened to the outside. The guard banged the door and a young blonde woman walked through the doorway, blowing a cloud of smoke out of her mouth slowly. She looked annoyed.

“I wasn’t ready.” She said in a heavy, Russian accent. “Now I will waste this cigarette.”

“Miss Belova, need I remind you that smoking is a privilege for you, not a right?” Valentina said in a sickly sweet voice.

“Alright, calm your tits.” Yelena replied, rolling her eyes and throwing the cigarette on the floor. She then proceeded to put it out with her bare feet, which made Kate gasp. 

Yelena eyed all of them with a disinterested stare. “Are you bitches ready to get the tour?”

Chapter Text

After Valetina and the guards said their goodbye, the women were ushered through a heavily sealed door, and suddenly they were alone with their tour guide, Yelena.
She wore her hair in a messy ponytail and had several tattoos on her arms, which looked pretty buff.
“Okay, so, I’m assuming you all got searched?” She said, addressing the entire group. When they all meekly nodded, her face softened. “I’m sorry about that. They will get easier with time. Trust me.”
She eyed the group properly for the first time and her eyes lingered on Kate, who was still softly crying. Recognition dawned on her face. “Kate Bishop?”
Kate froze, quickly wiping her tears. She looked at their tour guide with blurry eyes but recognised her instantly now that she had a proper look. Yelena Belova.
“You-What?” She blurted out in surprise. She had not seen the blonde woman since their fight last christmas. It had been several months.
Yelena crossed her arms, frowning. “What did you do to end up here, huh?” She instantly felt a little bitter, because it was mainly Kate and Clint’s fault that she was arrested and put here. But she did have a soft spot for the girl, she’d had one since they met. So she instead pushed the anger away for another time. Kate was terrified right now and she could not use another person making her feel miserable.
“Uh, some of the tracksuit mafia guys died and they held me and Clint responsible. Clint! Oh my god, he was looking for you everywhere. We should call him!” Kate started talking excitedly before realising where they were. ”Oh wait…”
Yelena barked a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure Clint Barton wants to speak to me.” She rolled her eyes. “Figures he let you turn up for his crimes. I assume he got away with it?” The rest of the group listened in on their conversation with interest and Yelena quickly cleared her throat when she noticed. “Nevermind. Let’s get on with it then.” She gave Kate warning eyes, as to say “We’ll talk about this later.” and started the tour.

The prison was designed in an octagonal shape, with several hallways filled with cellblocks. It also had a recreational room, a hospital wing and two bathrooms. In the middle of the prison was the big yard, which the prisoners had seen before from the entrance. It was surrounded by big windows and had emptied out by now.
Yelena led them down the first hallway, showing them some of the cell blocks. Each room was filled with bedframes made of solid stone, both on the floor level and bunk height. The mattresses on them looked thin and uncomfortable. There was a metal toilet in a corner and a small desk. Most of the rooms were also littered with more mattresses on the floor, filled with sleeping, talking, or reading inmates. The majority of them didn’t pay attention to the newbies, but some looked up with interest.
“Is it normal that people sleep on the floor?” Monica asked. She had seen prisons like this before, and normally it was a maximum two people to a cell for safety purposes.
“No, it is not. We are overcrowded, which means you get to share your room with five other lovely ladies.” Yelena replied sarcastically. “You girls will sleep on the floor, because you’re new. Lowest on the totem pole.”
The new prisoners all looked at her with disbelief. Titania looked equal parts confused and upset. ”They can’t really expect I’m supposed to share a cell with criminals like you! I have standards!”
Yelena shrugged, ignoring her. “I suggest staying out of trouble and you’ll move up the ladder quicker.”
Jessica looked all around her new home with morbid fascination. So this is where she'd be spending the rest of her life. It was honestly worse than she had imagined, but she had also lived in some awful places, so it wasn’t that bad. She would probably survive.
The tour continued until they came across another cell. They all stopped dead in their tracks because the soft sound of moaning could be heard from inside. Yelena held up her hand, motioning them to stay silent.
Monica couldn’t help her curiosity and peeked into the room. On one of the bunks, two women were tangled together. One of them had flaming red hair and she was roughly but skillfully pushing her fingers into the other woman’s sex. Her mouth was connected to the blonde’s neck.They were both completely nude and making sounds of pleasure.
“Oh my god!” Kate exclaimed, who had also leaned around the doorframe to look.
Yelena had joined them, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a soft smirk on her lips. “Oy, Jean! You’re traumatising the fresh meat!”
The red haired woman, whose name was apparently Jean, stuck up her middle finger and continued pleasuring the other prisoner.
Yelena rolled her eyes and swore. “Pizda.” She motioned for the others to follow her, continuing the tour.
When they were out of earshot, she shot Kate a grin, who was still looking rather uncomfortable.
“Got to watch out for that one.” She patted Kate’s shoulder. “Actually, she’s not that bad. There’s way worse women out there. But she will try to make a move on you for sure.”
“Does that happen a lot? You know…lesbians?” Kate replied. She had not expected such a public display of indecency.
Yelena laughed. “Lesbians?” She mocked Kate’s tone. “I’ll give you one week, Kate Bishop. Yes, there are many lesbians. We’re in a women’s prison, filled with criminals and aliens. What did you expect?”
The archer looked around, scared, as if a lesbian could pop up out of a dark corner at any moment. “Oh.”
Yelena didn’t know why, but she felt bad for the girl. Normally, she was able to distance herself pretty well from the new prisoners and what happened to them in their first weeks. The idea of this happening to Kate however, appalled her for some reason. Because of their brief confrontation last christmas, she had come to care for her. “You should stay close to me.” She blurted out, before she knew it. Dammit.
Kate’s big eyes focused on Yelena’s face. “Why?”
“The new prisoners are very popular targets.” Yelena said, looking meaningfully into Kate’s eyes.
“Targets? What do you mean?” Kate asked, anxiety rising to her chest. She wasn’t sure if she could trust Yelena.
“They’ll try to have sex with you, okay?” The blonde replied, her voice rising. “And you won’t have a choice.”
Kate stopped walking, making the others bump into her. “You can’t be serious.” She whispered.
“Very serious.” Yelena said. When the other prisoners looked at both of them again and what they were discussing with interest, she shook her head, to snap herself out of it. She didn’t want the others thinking she was giving Kate some kind of special treatment. “Whatever, I don’t care. Do whatever you want.” She mumbled and dug her hands in her pockets, continuing to show them around. She didn’t make eye contact with Kate again for a while.

After touring all the cell blocks, they had arrived at one of the bathrooms. It was filled with sinks and small mirrors, which were heavily secured to the wall so no one could use it to hurt people. There was a row of stalls, each filled with a toilet. The smell was very unpleasant and the plumbing was far from sanitary.
“Ew.” Titania simply said in her valley girl sort of way, turning her nose up.
Yelena raised her eyebrows. “If you think this is gross, you’re not ready for the showers. They’re disgusting.”
A toilet flushed suddenly, making the women jump. A red haired woman exited the stall, stopping in her tracks as she saw Yelena standing around with the newbies.
“Hey! Giving them a tour?” She said in a sultry voice and she smiled at Yelena, who apparently was familiar to her. Her hair was braided tightly but she had a kind face and was really beautiful, which made her seem out of place in this prison. She washed her hands in the sink, which probably made them more dirty instead of clean, and crossed her arms, taking in the new people. When there was a prolonged moment of silence, she cleared her throat. “Well, better get on with it.” She winked at Yelena and left the room.
They all stared after the beautiful woman, speechless. “Is she your girlfriend?” Kate blurted out, forgetting her boundaries.
“That’s my sister.” Yelena replied, chuckling. “Natasha Romanoff.”
Monica and Kate gasped in unison as it clicked for them. Something about seeing her here in prison wearing an orange jumpsuit just was so far from the norm that it was hard to recognize her.
“The Avenger?” Monica said breathlessly.
Yelena rolled her eyes. “That’s the one.”
Kate could not help but feel excited. She had been a fan of the Avengers since she had been saved by Hawkeye as a child. But her excitement quickly faltered when she realised where they were. “They’re putting heroes in here too?” She wondered, confused. As far as she knew, Natasha had saved the world multiple times before disappearing off the radar completely. She had always suspected the Black Widow had just been in hiding. Definitely not in prison. Yelena had come after Kate and Clint to find out where Natasha had gone, which had started this whole fight with Yelena. Neither Clint nor her knew were Yelena’s sister had been. Clint had actually been looking for Natasha himself, desperately. It was strange that nothing was known about Natasha’s arrest or incarceration in the public eye.
“Why would they put a hero here? You would assume saving humanity would grant you a get out of jail free card.” Kate blurted out, her brow furrowing. She then realised all she herself did was save people, yet she was here as well.
“Heroes don’t exist.” Yelena replied coldly. “At least, not in the government’s eyes.” There was obvious resentment towards the government, but Kate also felt like it was directed at her a little bit. She swallowed heavily and nodded.
Monica scoffed at this new information. “Sokovia Accords, right?” She said pedantically. “I often encountered people with abilities in my field of work and the government always marked them as a risk, hero or not..”
When no one responded, she quickly shut up. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to mention that she had previously worked for the government that probably landed a lot of people right where they were, including their tour guide.
“That’s smart to say in a prison full of people you helped place here.” Jessica immediately remarked.
Yelena frowned. “Yeah, I suggest you keep that to yourself.”
Nebula however, who had been silently following along on this stupid tour, finally perked up at this information. She eyed Monica with interest, trying to remember her face for later. Knowledge was power, after all.

The tour moved to the other bathroom, which was where the showers were located. The entire place was tiled in a dull grey colour, and definitely not clean. The walls were lined with shower heads, which were all removable. It reminded them of high school locker room showers. There were a few more secluded showers too, blocked off with walls. Monica made a mental note to make sure she could secure one of those the first time she came here, since she did not look forward to sharing a shower with a bunch of random naked women.
“Isn’t that kinda dangerous?” Jessica commented, nodding towards the long shower hoses and making a choking motion with her hands.
Yelena nodded, crossing her arms. “Ah yes, the showers. The place where most death and sex takes place.”
It was unclear whether she was joking or not, but no one felt brave enough to ask. Yelena looked wistfully at the disgusting environment and popped her lips. “Anyways. You’ll get your shower supplies and stuff later today.”
They moved on, and while they were walking towards the rec room, Yelena bumped her shoulder into Kate’s. “Don’t use the walled off showers, okay?”
“Why?” Kate asked. She had been planning to do just that.
“Just trust me.”

The rec room was a large cold looking environment, but still the most homely looking place within the prison’s walls. The room was currently inhabited by a lot of inmates, who were going about their short time of relaxation in relative calm. Most didn’t even bother to pay any mind to the newbies, but still there were a few who turned their heads to get a glimpse. It made Monica umcomfortable to be stared at.
As for the furnishings, in the centre of the room was an old looking TV that was currently running an old episode of ‘I Love Lucy’ which very few actually looked to be paying attention to (most were either reading, sleeping, or just sort of dozing off, staring into space). The television seemed to be the thing most cared for in the entire room; as the seats, tables, and couch around clearly had seen much better days.
There was a part of the room that consisted of a large empty floor with mirrors on the walls, serving as a kind of gym area. It was laced with sports equipment. A single person was sitting on a yoga mat in the middle of that part of the room, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. She was quite small, almost childlike. Her hair was black and curly, adding to her cute appearance, even though they could only see her from the back.
Monica nodded approvingly at this sight. At least not everything here was so primitive. There were humans here who did humanlike activities.
“This is the rec room. This is where we hang out. Don’t ever dare to touch the TV, or Wanda will get angry. We all know sitcoms suck, but that’s just how it is, okay?” Yelena spoke up, moving her hands around as to present the room.
The mention of Wanda’s name made every new prisoner minus Nebula react. Given that this prison consisted of all kinds of criminals with crimes they couldn’t even begin to imagine and who could possibly endanger them, there was a comfort in the fact that most of the new prisoners were unaware, oblivious about their fellow prisoners’ pasts.
However, Wanda Maximoff was someone they all heard of. The woman’s rampage in New Jersey had been international news, and her multiversal search for her children and the ravage she left behind was also known among the general public, reported on after she was confirmed to have been stopped.
“H-How could they put her here?” Kate said, terrified. “I thought she was dead.”
Yelena shrugged. “Can’t kill a witch that powerful. But she’s really not that bad. Just don’t cross her.” She hoped they would heed her warning, but it was also kind of fun when someone tried to start a fight with Wanda. It made for interesting entertainment.
The person that had been doing yoga had apparently overheard their conversation, because she turned around and spoke up. “It’s best not to cross anyone here and stay out of trouble. You guys should join my yoga class to calm your anger.” Her smile was sweet and she seemed genuine.

Titania went wide eyed in recognition. “Jennifer?!” She exclaimed with a mixture of spite and genuine surprise. She predicted her nemesis would be here, but she didn’t think they’d run into each other on day one!
Jennifer’s mouth opened in a small ‘O’ when she saw Titania among the new prisoners. She wasn’t ready for this. “Oh, shit.” She whispered under her breath. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. “Hi Titania!” She said sweetly.
Titania put her hand on her hip and tried to assert some stupid internal self sense of dominance.
“Hi Shrek.” She mocked.
“What brings you here?” Jen replied, as if they were unexpectedly meeting each other in the supermarket.
The rest of the prisoners watched the exchange with confused faces, including Yelena.
“What the fuck do you think? It’s prison. I didn’t come here by choice.” Titania stepped closer, stooped down to Jen’s level and placed one finger on her shoulder and lightly pushed her.
Jeniffer caught herself from falling, but the small aggression infuriated her. She stood up in one smooth movement, and pressed her finger into Titania’s shoulder in return. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
Titania stumbled back a step. “You bitch!” She turned around to see if people were looking and then feigned a voice of victimhood. “She pushed me! You must have seen that! She pushed me!”
That may have worked on the outside world, but here everyone knew that was a blatant lie. Jessica just looked at her with annoyance. “This tour is long enough as it is. Can we not make this take even longer with this drama?”
Yelena shrugged. “This is the most exciting thing to happen thus far.” She got a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, leaning against the wall and watching with interest. She knew exactly what Jen could do, and was just waiting for it to happen.
Jeniffer was getting frustrated. Titania always managed to push all her buttons. Playing the victim, like she did in the outside world. She felt the anger inside her threatening to flow out and her heart was beating quickly. “No, no.” She whispered under her breath, trying to calm down but all she could see was green. Her mouth opened in pain as she felt her entire body enlarge, ripping the prison uniform to shreds.
Kate backed away until she ran into the wall next to Yelena, horror on her face. “What the f-”
She-Hulk roared and lumbered forwards, grabbing Titania’s arm and spinning her around, throwing her into the wall with tremendous force.
Titania hit the wall with a loud THUD. She slid down to the ground, propped up just slightly. She let out a sort of groaning sound as she tried to get back up but decided not to. She wasn’t badly injured, just very disoriented and probably hurting just a little bit.
Aggressively grabbing the yoga mat she had been sitting on, She-Hulk threw it against the mirror and roared. “You!” She pointed at Titania, ready to pounce. “You will listen to me here. I am the boss!” She swung her fist, ready to hit Titania, but punched a huge hole in the wall instead.
Before anyone could respond, a loud, ear splitting alarm sounded. The inmates present in the rec room all groaned, and proceeded to lay down, belly first, on the floor. Yelena hissed and quickly took another drag from her cigarette. “Lay on the floor!” She yelled towards the new prisoners, rounding them up, her heavy accented voice making itself clearly perceivable over the loud alarm. She put her hand on Kate’s shoulder and squeezed it before pushing the girl down and following.
“What’s happening?” Kate said, panic in her voice.
“They’re going to come in and take Jen away. Don’t do anything and we’ll be fine, okay?” Yelena said, trying to exhale the smoke from her laid down position and having difficulty doing so.
The door opened with a bang and several guards entered. One of the guards was brandishing a special looking gun, which she expertly aimed at Jen’s shoulder. A soft sound was heard and a large dart appeared, having penetrated her thick green skin. She immediately crumpled to the floor and the room filled with an eerie silence.
“Wow!” Kate exclaimed excitedly. “They’ve got trick arrows!”
Yelena huffed out the remaining smoke in a sort of cough- laugh. “You’re weird, Kate Bishop.”
When Jen had returned to her normal form, she had been taken away by the guards and calm had returned to the room. However, the rec room was closed for repairs and the other inmates were ushered out, complaining loudly. Weirdly, the room had been a mess because of the fight, but the tv and it’s dvd player had been untouched.
“That was intense.” Jessica commented. “Is she like, okay?” She nodded towards Titania, who was still laying on the floor, a crumpled mess with two guards standing by her making sure she was alive.
The staff rushed Titania to the infirmary to make sure she hadn’t broken anything important. Yelena shrugged and the group continued onwards without her.

The next and final stop on the tour were the kitchen and cantina. These were placed outside of the general prison area, and closed off with a door so the staff could also safely eat when they wanted to. Yelena led them through these doors which were open to the prisoners right now, and down a long hallway. When they got closer to the kitchen, soft 40’s music was playing over the speakers. The entire environment seemed very clean, unlike the rest of the prison.
“The kitchen.” Yelena simply stated, opening the door for them and beckoning them inside.
After they all shuffled inside, they were met with a spectacular sight. A young woman was standing with her back to them, her long, curly dark brown hair running down her shoulders. Her hands were lifted in the air and softly swaying along with the music. Around her, the entire kitchen was alive with movement. Dishes were washing themselves, pots were being stirred and vegetables and meat was being cut by invisible hands holding sharp knives. It was like everything moved in perfect unison.
“Woa.” Kate exclaimed, her mouth open in awe and Monica mirrored her expression.
“Wanda?” Yelena said softly, as to not disturb the cooking woman from her work.
Wanda turned around, a soft smile plastered on her face. “Hi!” She greeted them cheerfully, her eyes so big they were almost popping out. She had braided a few strands of her hair, but it was still kind of meek and untidy looking.
The prisoners all took a step back in unison when they realised who the cook was and at the way she looked at them.
“These are the new prisoners, Wanda.” Yelena said, matching her cheery tone uncharacteristically. “They can’t wait to taste your amazing food.”
Wanda beamed at the compliment and slowly eyed all of them. Her stare was not only terrifying, but it seemed as if she was truly analysing each of them, looking into their darkest thoughts and feelings. When her eyes at last met with Monica’s, her smile faltered. “Oh.”
Monica wished she could disappear through the floor at that moment. She had not seen the witch since their ordeal in Westview, but she had heard what she had done after that. She partly blamed herself for not taking care of the problem and trusting Wanda to change her ways, but now that she came face to face with her here, she realised the Wanda she had met in Westview was long gone and she could not be saved.
“Hey Wanda.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “How are you?”
Wanda’s hands had stopped moving along with the music, which started to become jumbled and mixed with static. The pans being washed clattered to the ground. “Okay, let’s move.” Yelena grabbed Kate’s arm and steered her and the other prisoners back, a little away from whatever was happening in front of them. Kate, who looked terrified, could not form words but nodded gratefully. Yelena decided to just enjoy the show, because there was no way she was going to stand in between this newbie and the angry witch.
Wanda took a deep breath, the veins in her neck visible. “I’m great.” She said, her voice shaking.
Monica felt a shiver go down her back at the witch’s stare. She knew she was angry at the world. She knew she probably resented her and saw her as an easy target to channel her fury into. But she had no idea how to deal with that, since they were both stuck here. Apologizing would not help and she could not start a fight on her first day. She clenched her fists, feeling powerless because of the collar around her neck. She thankfully noticed that Wanda was wearing one too, so she didn’t seem to be a full power, at least.
“It’s great that they’re letting you cook!” She said, trying to keep the conversation flowing and fill the very uncomfortable and heavy silent tension in the air. “It looks like you’re doing a good job here.”
Wanda clenched her jaw. “Yes, I take care of everyone.” Her hands were trembling.
“That’s very nice of you. You took care of me and everyone in Westview very well! And your kids-” Monica rambled out of panic, her voice unsure. She stopped herself because she had realised she had said the wrong thing, judging by the other’s immediate reaction.
Wanda’s eyes blazed red and she took a step forwards. “What did you say?” She said in a dangerous voice. The knives that had been cutting the vegetables started rising in the air, and pointed towards Monica and the other new prisoners. They blinked in the light, ready to strike.
Monica put her hands up, sweat dripping down her forehead. “I-”
Before anyone could react, the kitchen door swung wide open and several people entered the room, unaware of the confrontation that was going on.
A blonde woman was leading the group, and she stopped in her tracks when she saw the knives floating in the air, pointed at Monica.
“What is going on-” She said, her eyes switching between Wanda and Monica. They eventually lingered on the latter, recognition dawning on her face. “Monica?”
Monica tore her stare away from the knives and connected eyes with her childhood hero, Carol Danvers. Auntie Carol. Her mother’s girlfriend, who had disappeared without a word, leaving her all alone after her mother’s passing during the snap.
“Carol?” She managed to choke out. She was filled with a jumble of anger, sadness, happiness and terror.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing, you crazy bitch?” Carol spit towards Wanda, who physically recoiled at the insult.
Her eyes had filled with angry tears. “She…I…” She stuttered, confused in her own head. The grief was threatening to overtake, and she was starting to get a little disoriented. She focused her eyes on Monica again and striked.
The knives suddenly shot forward, most of them missing their target, but one of them cutting Monica on the cheek. She clapped her hand over the oozing wound, gasping.
“You shouldn't have done that.” Carol said smugly but angrily, stepping forwards. She balled her fist and punched Wanda straight in the face. The force was so big that the witch sprawled onto the floor, her long hair shielding her face and spilling everywhere like a waterfall. She didn’t seem to be moving.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Then, the room was filled with the sound of clapping. Nebula stepped forwards, applauding. “This is the best prison I’ve ever been to.” She said in her low voice. “Terra is not that bad after all.”

Chapter Text

After the altercation in the kitchen, the guards had taken Wanda to the hospital wing. The punch had knocked her out cold, which was honestly impressive. Carol and her group had taken snacks from the kitchen pantry before waving goodbye to Monica. Carol had promised they would talk later, so Monica held onto that thought. She was still a little terrified at the thought of Wanda eventually waking up and coming to find her, but for now she felt like she was safe. Seeing the woman she idolised so much as a child again after all these years had awoken a bunch of feelings inside of her, which jumbled together making this already confusing and overwhelming day that much more difficult. 

They had all taken some time to calm down and eat something in the cantina before Yelena had spoken up again. “Well, that was the tour, pretty much. Normally it’s not that eventful, but hey, you made my day entertaining.” She was smoking another cigarette, and looked a little worn out. The group was sitting around a table, all dealing with their new environment in their own way. Yelena took out a clipboard and a mesh bag she had taken out of an office and cleared her throat, scanning over it quickly. “Now, at the beginning of the tour, Val asked you to remember your prison number. Do you remember it? It’s of utmost importance.” She took a bite of a grilled cheese she had made herself in the kitchen and eyed the group with a stern look.

Most of them had absolutely forgotten they had even been given a number, with all the things that happened since the search. Nebula however, spoke up. “#A57-1985.” The number was said almost robotically.

Yelena looked impressed at the blue skinned woman. “Oh.”

Normally, no prisoner ever remembered theirs, so she was taken aback. “Well, you were meant to have all forgotten. It’s another form of torture Val likes to use. To scare ya.” She scrunched up her nose as she smiled.

“Anyway, I’m just joking. I have your prison numbers here, and your ID cards. I do however urge you all to remember your number from here onwards, because they will punish you if you don’t listen.”

She got out a digital photo camera, which looked a bit dated. “We need to take a picture of each of you, as it will be displayed on your ID card. And lastly, you will each get assigned a cell. And with that comes roommates, as I said before.”

Kate and Monica both immediately looked terrified at this prospect. Kate was terrified in general, but Monica realised she could quickly make many enemies here by accidentally mouthing off, on top of Wanda already hating her. What if she was bunked with the witch?

She swallowed heavily and spoke up. “Are…are they random? The cellmates?” 

Yelena furrowed her brows at this interruption, wanting to finish up by now. “Yes, they are random. But I promise, you won’t be bunked with that little witch, if that’s what you’re worried about. She has her own room. Some inmates have more influence than others, and therefore have privileges. I will urge you to respect them, or it will go downhill for you quickly.”

Monica nodded, relieved. Kate however, frowned. 

“That doesn’t seem fair.” She did not deal well with injustice and rather naively added. “We’re all equal right? Why do they get special treatment?”

Yelena laughed openly and Monica scoffed. “You do realise how this sounds coming from an american white girl, right?” Yelena said, patting Kate’s knee. “I would keep thoughts like these to yourself if you don’t want to be shanked, Kate Bishop. Injustice is basically this prison’s middle name. Deal with it.”

Kate still wasn’t convinced so she sighed. “Why do you keep using my full name?” 

Yelena winked at her, but didn’t answer her question. “Let’s take pictures, ladies. I’ll try to get your best side.”

“What about Titania?” Jessica asked, because the celebrity was still in the hospital wing and wouldn’t get a picture.

“I’ll take care of that.” Yelena assured her. She appreciated that Jessica didn’t only seem to care about herself, even given her standoffish attitude. It reminded her a little bit of herself.

She waited for everyone to finish eating before moving them to an office. There was a computer there and a big empty wall with an off white blue screen in front of it. A guard was waiting for them there, making sure Yelena was doing everything correctly and checking that they didn’t break any rules.

Yelena turned on the computer and put the strap of the camera around her neck. “Okay, I want to make this quick because honestly I’m just fucking tired.”

She motioned for Kate to stand in front of the screen, as she was first in turn to take a picture. Yelena wasn’t a good photographer by any standard, but it was not like the pictures would appear in a magazine. She focused the lens on Kate’s face and paused. Zoomed in like this, she saw the slight blush of exhaustion and freckles on the archer’s cheeks. Her hair was curly and a little tangled. It looked really cute. 

“Did you take the picture yet?” Kate whispered awkwardly when Yelena didn’t move.

The widow quickly blinked, snapping out of it and took the picture without looking. “Next.” She said a little embarassedly.

Jessica stepped forward when no one else moved and looked at the camera with an expression of clear disdain on her face. For a woman whose job it was to take pictures of people, she actually hated getting her picture taken. 

Yelena let out a sigh. Why did everyone always insist on looking so pissed off in their pictures? At least Kate had looked sweet. She lowered the camera and frowned. “You got a smile for me?” She said, smiling at Jessica as an example. 

“Just take the goddamn picture” Jessica snapped while crossing her arms

“ Сука… ” Yelena cursed under her breath then she snapped the picture, bored. She hurriedly moved Monica and Nebula along too, taking their photo without even trying to make them look good. When she was done, she made them all wait around as she loaded up the pictures onto the computer and printed them out to be pasted onto the ID cards. The computer was tiresomely slow which annoyed Yelena even more, and she tapped her nails impatiently on the desk. Eventually, she finished and prepared the cards and then handed them out to each prisoner. “Put it on your chest like this.” She said, and pointed at her own. In her own picture, her eyes were puffy and red and she looked tired and annoyed. When every prisoner had pinned the new ID card to their chest, the guard came by and checked all of them.

“Everything is in order.” She simply said, and left the room. 

Yelena gave her a mocking salute when she had turned her back to the prisoners, which made Kate snicker.

When they returned to the cantina, a bunch of guards were waiting for them. They were each handed a mesh bag filled with stuff they would need around the prison, like a pillow and towel. Yelena turned around to face the group. “This is where we say goodbye. These guards will take you to your cells. Also, please don’t think me giving this tour means we’re friends or anything. I will forget your faces as soon as I close my eyes tonight.” She knew for at least one of them, that wasn’t true, but that was nobody’s business. 

Monica & Nebula

Nebula and Monica were both marched down Cellblock D by the guards. With each cell they passed Monica hoped this would be where she parted ways with the insane woman standing next to her, but each time they were made to continue side by side. All around them, the strange alien inmates watched the new girls with lusty interest. 

“You’re mine, bitch!” Yelled out a Contraxian woman. It was unclear at who it was directed.

Nebula eyed her and immediately the gold skinned woman shut up and backed away from the bars of her cell. Clearly terrified upon realising she’d just insulted the daughter of Thanos. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” She loudly proclaimed. 

The inmates carried on their way. The walk down the cellblock seemed to take forever to Monica, but eventually the guards stopped both her and Nebula at a cell on the second floor. “Alright this is your stop, maggots.” Barked one of the guards and the cell door steadily drew open with a loud clanging sound. 

“W-We’ll be sharing a cell?” Monica asked nervously.
“Looks like it, Terran. We’ll have plenty of fun together.” Nebula teased. She gained a sense of sick glee from the idea of sharing a cell with someone so pathetic as this Earthling. Especially because she had been listening to the insider info she had been providing all day. Monica would possibly be hated even more than herself.

They both were shoved in to their new living space and the door slammed behind them. While some of the other prisoners seemed to be free to roam around, they were locked in for whatever reason.

Monica turned around, terrified Nebula was going to do something. She kept an eye on the alien while scanning the rest of the room. 

Sitting cross legged on the bottom bunk was a stunning Krylorian woman. She had a tiny frame that made her look very small, light brown hair that was put up into pigtails, and overall had the air of a delicate princess about her. Her light pink skin contrasted greatly with her neon orange jumpsuit. She looked up at the two new women with apprehension, clearly not happy to be disturbed.

“Uh, hi.” Monica said uncomfortably. She hadn’t expected someone else to be there.

“Hello.” The Krylorian said in a meek voice. 

Monica looked from the one alien to the other and grinned painfully. “Uhm, while we are all gathered here, I just want to introduce myself. I’m Monica…Rambeau.” She said awkwardly. 

“Bereet-” the Krylorian started to introduce herself before being cut off.

“Great glad we could introduce ourselves.” Nebula rolled her eyes “Now get off my bed.”

For a second Bereet considered saying something, but she did exactly as told and stood at the wall of the cell. Nebula sat down on the rock hard bed.  

Monica opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Uhm, I guess I’ll take the floor.”

“Why don’t you sit here besides me?” Nebula asked in an intimidating tone. 

“Okay…” Monica whispered, severely uncomfortable. She shuffled forwards and sat on the bed next to Nebula, but as far away from her as possible. 

Nebula stared at her. “Are you scared of me?” 

Monica started to nod but quickly turned it into a sort of shrug. “Uh, I’m scared in general right now. This isn’t like a comfortable place to be in.”

“I’ve been in a lot of prisons before and I know this…” Nebula grabbed Monica’s chin. “A soft girl like you doesn’t survive more than a day.”

Monica’s breath hitched in her throat. “I’m n-not soft.” She panted. She wasn’t sure if Nebula was trying to seduce her or was in the process of snapping her neck.

“Not soft.” Nebula didn’t laugh but it was clear she found that amusing. “The other girls would slather you up in Gunavian jelly and go to town.” 

“I don’t even know what that means.” Monica whimpered.

“It’s not a good thing.” Bereet not-so-helpfully responded. To which Nebula shot her a look. 

“In short it means you’d be their little bitch.” 

“O-oh.” Monica grasped at the dark blue sheets that were untidily sprawled across the mattress with her left hand and tried to scoot away from Nebula’s grip on her jaw. 

Nebula grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and pulled her even closer. “I’ve never done that to another inmate before…but I want to try now.” She loosened her grip on the uniform and brought her hand down to the zipper. With a sudden tug, she pulled it down. 

Monica quickly grabbed Nebula’s hands, and stopped her. “What are you doing?!” She said, alarmed. She looked at Bereet with pleading eyes, hoping for help. Maybe together they could overpower Nebula?

Nebula scowled and roughly grabbed Monica’s hand prepared to hurt her, before having a better idea. She shoved her off the bed and towards the entrance of the cell. “You will undress the Kylorian for me.”

Monica rubbed her elbow painfully. She scowled at Nebula. “No, I won’t. She doesn’t have to be a part of this.”

With a sudden jolt, Nebula rose from the bed and stood domineeringly.  “You’ll do what I say, or I’ll break both your hands and then do what I’d like with her.”

“Fine.” Monica said, convinced that Nebula had no problem following through on her threat. She rose from the floor, unsteadily and looked at Bereet, who seemed like she was trying to become one with the wall. She connected her eyes with the alien and mouthed “I’m sorry” before stepping forwards and slowly unzipping the girl’s prison uniform. She tried to be gentle as she slipped the garment down the other’s shoulders, revealing her light pink skin. She had small but perky breasts. Monica stopped, hesitating to continue undressing her and looked at Nebula worriedly.

“I didn’t say you could stop.” Nebula stared at her.

Bereet was entirely dazed as to what’s going on. One minute she was just resting in her cell after work in the mines, and now THIS was happening. She looked around a bit frantically seeing if maybe a guard was passing by or anything. 

Monica hooked her hands into the hem of Bereet’s jumpsuit and tugged, slowly pulling her pants down. She helped Bereet remove them, and threw them on the floor. She looked at Nebula for approval, hoping she was satisfied with whatever sick game she was playing.

Nebula was more than satisfied with this show. Something about Weaver’s search of her awakened something within her that made this far more entertaining then it would have been before.

Bereet suddenly was in her body again and meekly begged. “Please. Take her instead. I’ll help you.”

Monica looked betrayed and eyed Bereet and then Nebula, unsure what to do.

“Fine. Stand still for her.”

Bereet broke free of Monica’s grasp and then went through the same process, but nowhere near as gently.

Monica stood frozen. She had no idea what to do. Had she had her abilities, it wouldn’t even have been an issue. But she was powerless against Nebula right now and trapped in this small room. So she just let it happen, closing her eyes.

After a bit of being roughed around, her jumpsuit fell to the ground. Bereet stepped back, hoping that would be sufficient. Monica quickly wrapped her arms around herself, trying to cover up a bit.

Nebula laid down on her bed. “Come and lay next to me. You can stay there, Bereet.”

Shivering, Monica shuffled forwards and sat down on the bed, with her bare back turned towards Nebula and her legs dangling over the edge.

Nebula grabbed her shoulder and made her lay back against the wall. “I’m bored.” She complained.

“I’m s-sorry?” Monica offered lamely. She felt her insides quiver with terror, unsure what was going to happen. How did she end up here? She had always tried to do the right thing. Bitterly, she thought about Wanda and if she never met her, she probably wouldn’t be here in this situation right now.

Nebula opened up her jumpsuit and got comfortable. “I want you to show me how to feel…pleasure”. The concept of sex was new to Nebula, as was the idea of any personal pleasure, but here she was. 

Monica flushed. “Have you never…explored that on your own?” She was equally uncomfortable and curious.

“No.” Nebula answered simply in a sort of robotic tone.

“Oh.” Monica couldn’t even imagine having skipped that part of puberty, but then wondered if people like Nebula even had that sort of thing. She sat up slightly, leaning on her elbows. “Well, it’s like, different for everyone.” She felt a little weird discussing this in this absurd situation.

“Then explain it to me the best you can” 

Monica shuffled into a sitting position, leaning against the cold wall with her back. “Well, your body has points that make you feel good. I don’t know…if yours are the same as mine. But you can try to explore that with uh…your hands. Or whatever.” She bit her lip awkwardly.

Nebula thought of the way she felt while being searched. “Show me.”

“Uhm, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.” Monica tried weakly. 

“I don’t care” She snapped, suddenly ready to be awfully violent again.

Monica let out a shuddering sigh. Guess she had no choice. She shuffled forwards on the bed, until she was close to Nebula. “Spread your legs.” She whispered.

Nebula spread her legs, showing her blue sex. 

With shaking hands, Monica slowly touched the inside of Nebula’s thigh, moving up to stroke between her folds. She checked, feeling ridiculous. “How does that feel?” 

“Pleasurable” She said again in a robotic tone. 

Monica furrowed her brow. That didn’t really sound like it was actually good. She carefully inserted her fingers inside Nebula while rubbing her clit with her thumb, unsure if this felt nice or not.

Nebula let out a subtle gasp, so Monica continued hesitantly.

Bereet sat down on the floor and contemplated her life choices, not even looking at the two other women.

Monica felt discomfort bubble in her stomach, but kept making the same movements until she couldn’t anymore and quickly tried to pull her hand away. Nebula caught her hand with her metallic arm and held her in place. “I didn’t say you could stop.” She hissed.

Monica sighed and continued. She pushed a second finger in, hoping that this would be over soon. She definitely wasn’t trying her best, the discomfort of the situation getting to her.

Nebula felt a tingling inside that was indescribable. She moaned again, louder this time. Loud enough the women in the cell next to them probably could hear. She was quickly building to an orgasm. 

Monica was slightly spurred on by the sounds of pleasure, so she quickened her pace while zoning out. If this was consensual, she would be way better at this and even enjoy it. But she tried her hardest, so maybe the alien would leave her alone from today onwards. 

“Fuck…” Nebula moaned as the pace hastened. The sensation of the Terran's thumb rubbing up against her clit pushed her closer and closer. Until with a loud hostile sounding cry she came. 

Monica froze, slowly removing her fluid covered hand and wiping it on the sheets. She hurriedly shuffled backwards while Nebula was coming down from her high, and wrapped the blue blanket around her bare chest. Her eyes were wide and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

As she calmed down after her brilliant high, Nebula simply said “That was fun.”

Closing her eyes, Monica let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sure it was.” She hoped she could sleep soon, because the whole tour had already tired her out, and she was beyond exhausted after this horrifying experience.

Jessica Jones

Jessica Jones was led by a guard in the opposite direction of Nebula and Monica, towards Cellblock D. The walk there was filled with a cold silence that she honestly quite preferred. She really wasn’t in the mood to have to talk to anyone right now, especially her captors. 

When they entered the cellblock she was met with the lusy jeers she’d already expected from prison and so she chose to just ignore the other inmates best she could. It’s not that she didn’t want to punch them in the face, it’s just that she was in no position to do anything right now and verbally engaging with them would just be more of an annoyance. The guard stopped her at a cell towards the back of the first floor and the door drew open. 

Jessica took one step into her cell and then froze. A quiet “oh fuck” escaped her lips as she saw who her cellmate was. The guards must have chosen this cell with her own personal torment in mind or someone had pulled some strings to have things line up, because sitting on the bed with her knees to her chest was her adopted sister Trish, though she was hardly recognizable after years of being in this horrible place. She looked tired, her long blonde hair was knotted and clumpy, and she was rather frail. 

Trish had undergone a massive fall from grace, having been a famous child actress turned host of a popular talk show to a violent drug addicted lethal vigilante and now inmate all thanks to Jessica. Her own dear sister knowingly handed her over to this fate. 

Every day in The Raft had been hell for her. Without her powers here, she was nothing but a pretty blonde celebrity surrounded by the toughest and scariest women in the world. She was terrified for months as she was felt up and mocked. She couldn’t count how many times a fellow prisoner had mockingly yelled out “It’s Patsy!” (The name of her show as a kid) and would demand she sing the theme tune. 

Eventually after the thousandth time being groped in the showers she had enough and she began to fight back. She punched Karli Morganthau in the face, but even that wasn’t enough. The fight that ensued sent poor Trish to the infirmary. While she had some skills in self defence, she was no match for the master mercenaries and assassins this place held.

“Jessica?” Trish asked in surprise, it was clear from how she said her name she was bitter. 

Jessica scrambled for the right response and just said a simple “yeah”

“So you’re finally in the joint too.” Trish smirked. “Do you know how long I’ve been hoping I’d see you marched onto this god damned hellhole? How many nights I prayed you would get to experience this place in all its awfulness as well? Now you’re finally here!” 

“Look Trish I’m really sorry…” Jessica began 

“I don’t give a fuck about how sorry you are!” yelled Trish. “This prison has been hell to me! I’m surrounded by the worst of the worst, been groped, mocked, asked to sing for those assholes, worked to exhaustion in the mines. I’ve rotted here for 5 years now and it’s your fault!”

Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. This was her absolute limit. “For fucks sake what did you want me to do Trish? Keep letting you roam the streets killing every shitty person you decided didn’t deserve to live anymore. You were out of control. I tried to talk you off that ledge, but no you just did whatever the fuck you wanted to do! You don’t deserve to be here, but I didn’t have any other fucking options! You think you're the only one this pained? It broke me to have to be the one to have to stop you. And you think you can take your shit about being in prison and dump it on me? You don't get to do that!” With that, Jessica dumped her stuff on the empty mattress on the floor and plopped onto it, pulling the blanket over her and turning her back to Trish. 

Trish sat their, flabbergasted, unable to speak, and turned around on her bed also. 

Kate & Yelena

After the other prisoners had been escorted to their cells, a guard approached Kate and grabbed her arm. The thought of Kate being brought away to some unknown cell with unknown roommates overwhelmed Yelena. She found herself suddenly speaking up. “I’ll take her.” She said, grabbing Kate’s arm too and started pulling her away from the guard’s grasp. The guard opened her mouth to protest but Yelena shook her head. “Don’t make me tell my sister. She will tell Valentina about your little relationship with the prisoner in cell 34.” 

The guard quickly nodded and brushed out of the room. The door fell closed with a bang, filling the silent cantina. 

“What’d you do that for?” Kate asked, confused. 

Yelena couldn’t explain herself so she shrugged. “For old time’s sake.” She grabbed Kate’s file, rummaging through the papers to find her cell number. Her face turned white when she saw who Kate was bunked with. “Blyad!” She swore.

“What?” Kate said, her voice an octave higher than normal.

Yelena tried to compose herself. “Nothing, just…not the best roommate.” She closed the folder with a snap. “Can’t be helped I guess, Kate Bishop.” She tried to appear standoffish. 

Kate gulped. “Am I bunked with Wanda?” She whispered, terrified.

Yelena let out a chuckle. “You don’t listen very well do you? Wanda doesn’t share her bunk with anyone. No, it’s not Wanda. It’s an Asgardian.”

“Wait, that’s a bad thing? Thor is Asgardian! And he’s hot and seems nice enough. And a hero.” Kate let out a relieved sigh.

“Well, they’re no Thor.” Yelena replied. She started walking, her feet feeling heavy. She felt weirdly jealous at Kate’s comment on Thor’s looks as she led Kate down the corridors of cells. Many prisoners looked at them and catcalled Kate. Yelena felt herself getting more and more worked up. 

“You’re going to shut up and go to sleep straight away.” Yelena ordered Kate, as they were nearing their destination. “Don’t talk to them or argue with her. Don’t even make eye contact.” 

“O-Okay.” Kate said, her teeth clattering. “Who is she?”

Yelena shook her head. “All you gotta know is she believes she is the queen of this place and she won’t hesitate to stab you if you look at her the wrong way.”

That didn’t sound terrifying at all. “Great.” Kate mumbled. Maybe getting stabbed on her first night would be an easy way out. At least then she didn’t have to stay in this prison any longer…

When they reached the cell, Yelena stopped Kate, holding her shoulders with both hands. Kate felt surprised by the sudden close contact. Yelena looked into her eyes, opening her mouth to say something. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak. “Just go.” Yelena whispered, pushing the young archer towards the cell and slamming the cell door behind her. The widow could feel her heart beat loudly in her ears and immediately lit a cigarette, marching away from the door angrily.

Kate nervously stepped into the cell and faced her new cellmate. 

Standing propped against the wall was a tall skinny looking woman with pale white skin. Her long oily black hair fell down over her face, giving her the look of some wandering spirit out of a horror movie. The almost undead look of her didn’t match with the bright orange jumpsuit she wore in the slightest. She looked at Kate from behind her veil of hair and smirked with a certain level of malice that sent a chill down the young archer’s spine. 

Kate immediately brought her eyes down to the floor, trying to follow Yelena’s advice. She blindly searched for a random bed on the floor, until her hands met with a mattress that was stained with blood. She let out a yelp, fell back and hit her head against the bed frame behind her. She rubbed the back of her head. “Ouch.”

Her cellmate suddenly spoke. She simply said “Kneel.”

 Kate looked up at her. “S-sorry?” she whimpered, terrified.

“Kneel..before your queen.”

“W-who are you?”

“I’m the goddess of death” she stated proudly. “Now kneel!”

“T-The Goddess of Death?” Kate wasn’t sure if she believed that Death herself was standing before her locked into a prison cell, but either way, clearly, this person wasn’t someone to piss off. 

She tossed her things onto the blood stained mattress and lowered herself down onto one knee, kneeling before her. She felt ridiculous, but also terrified. Yelena should have prepared her better, she thought bitterly. She also wondered whose blood was on the mattress and what happened to them. Those definitely weren’t period stains.

Hela gently placed her right hand upon Kate’s head. It was good the new girl already understood her place before her queen. “You shall make for a good thrall.” 

“A what?” Kate asked awkwardly, still keeping her head lowered. 

“My slave, a servant, one who does whatever I demand.” Hela moved her hand and took a step back. “You may rise”

The archer rose slowly from her kneeling position and smiled uncomfortably. She eyed the bloody mattress again, her eyes big and scared. “W-what happened there?” She blurted out before she could help it.

“The last thrall annoyed me” Hela answered matter-of-factly.

Kate could not believe this. How did she end up with the worst cellmate on earth? “Did you kill her?!” 

“Possibly” Hela boredly looked at her black nails.

“O-Okay…” Kate said, chuckling uncomfortably. She looked at the bag she had brought, which was laying awfully close to the stain of blood. There were no other mattresses to sleep on, just this one. “Is it okay if I unpack my stuff?” She asked in a shaky voice. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Sleep on the mattress”

“But, it’s dirty!”

“Do as I order, or it’ll be your blood on there as well”

Kate stumbled over her own feet getting to her bag. She decided to spread her freshly washed, white towel across the blood so she could sleep on top of it. She kept nervously eyeing Hela, worried the woman might stab her if she turned her back to her for too long. Eventually, she got all her stuff out and fluffed up her pillow and then stood next to her bed, not willing to go lay down. 

Hela took a seat upon her own bed. “Lay down”

“You know I’m just not that tired yet!” Kate said breathlessly, smiling at her cellmate. Her eye was twitching. 

“What did I say about not doing what I command?”

With shaking hands, Kate lowered herself to the floor, stumbling onto the mattress. She curled up on her side, watching Hela out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t dare close her eyes. She could feel her nervous heart beat in her throat and ears. 

Hela simply rested on her bed and stared down at Kate. It was almost a shame the girl didn’t have any fight in her. It was entertaining to break the spirits of her cellmates. 

Kate took shallow breaths, keeping her eyes wide open, and didn’t even dare to fall asleep the entire night, even after Hela’s breathing had evened out next to her. 

Chapter Text

As the sun rose over the ocean and the next morning arrived, the prisoners in the infirmary were woken up by the nurse to take their medicine and eat their breakfast which consisted of some unidentified slop this morning. The environment was hostile and sterile and the doctors barely cared about their health, but at least they had more comfortable beds than in their cells and they didn’t have to go to work.

Wanda woke with a start when the nurse lightly tapped her cheek. Her head felt extremely heavy and like it was filled with cotton. And it hurt. A lot. She let out a soft groan, confused at where she was. Her big green eyes opened and the light inside the room blinded her briefly. When her vision adjusted, she saw the nurse, who was checking on her IV. Next to her bed, sat Jean Grey. She was sitting rigidly upright in the hospital chair, wringing her hands nervously as she seemed to be waiting for Wanda to wake up.

“Hi.” Wanda said groggily, wanting her girlfriend to stop being so stressed.

“You’re finally awake!” Jean exclaimed with great relief. 

Wanda let out a soft chuckle, which made her face hurt. “What happened?” She whispered. She could not remember much at the moment. 

“Uhm, I was told Carol Danvers started a fight with you and then knocked you out.” Jean had asked the nurse earlier. “Don’t worry. She’ll pay for this.” Jean’s eyes flashed angrily.

Wanda frowned, which, again, hurt her face. She brought her hands up to feel the skin and pressed down on it. “Ouch.” She looked at Jean with watery eyes. “I don’t remember.” She started to breathe quicker, feeling panicky. “Did I do anything wrong? Did I hurt somebody?” 

Jean looked at Wanda, concerned by the fact she assumed it was her own fault instead of just focusing on the fact that Carol attacked her. “No. Of course you didn’t”

“How do you know? You weren’t there!” Wanda snapped. “What if they take the kitchen away from me? Who’s running the kitchen right now?!” She started whimpering at the idea of losing the only thing that was worth getting up for. 

Jean sat silent for a moment. To Wanda she merely was taking a moment to think, when in actuality she was currently digging through the witch’s mind looking to see what actually happened. Wanda’s thoughts and memories were always jumbled and confusing, compared to others. While the memory was blurry, she did see that Wanda freaked out at a new inmate, someone she recognized, after they dared to mention her children. There was a flash of red burning energy that was uncontrollable, and then Carol stepped into the kitchen and suddenly everything went dark. 

She looked at Wanda solemnly and then said “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be blamed on you. New inmates tend to cause problems.”

Wanda breathed in slowly, trying to calm herself. She frowned then. “How do you know it had to do with a new inmate? Did someone tell you what I did?”

“Well I told you I asked the nurse earlier, didn’t I?”

Wanda looked at her girlfriend, suspicious. “Why would a nurse know what happened?” She felt her jaw set as she realised what had happened. She let out a disappointed breath as she leaned back against the pillows defeatedly. “You did it again, didn’t you?”

Jean sighed and then looked at Wanda pleadingly. “I’m sorry. I just thought it would help since you didn’t remember and I could.” She tried to excuse her behaviour hurriedly, not wanting Wanda to make a big deal out of it.

In truth, Jean enjoyed being able to overpower the witch. Their relationship worked because Jean felt superior to Wanda and moments like these only made that feeling stronger for Jean. She felt angry that Carol had dared to hurt what in her mind belonged to her though, and wanted to take revenge as soon as possible, but first wanted to make sure her girlfriend was okay.

Wanda had deflated in the pillows in the meantime, feeling pissed off at her loss of memory and the fact that Jean had once again broken a promise. Her head hurt and she wanted to sleep, but was too worried about what she might or might not have done. And the kitchen?

She let her eyes travel around, landing on the tray of food on the next bed over. It looked like a discoloured, messy slop. 

Wanda opened her mouth in shock. “What the fuck is that?”

Jean followed her eyeline and let out a chuckle. “I don’t know.” She looked at Wanda’s bruised face and her eyes softened. She scooted closer, pulling the chair along with her, and held Wanda’s hand. She wasn’t bothered by the fact that the other’s fingers were stained black, like she had dipped them in ink.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” She tried her best to look very sorry indeed.

Wanda sighed slowly. “You know I don’t like it when you look in my head. I don’t want you to see it.” She whispered.

Jean nodded eagerly. “I understand. I was just trying to help. And I did see that it was all their fault. It was Carol and her friend, the new prisoner. They did this.” She internally scolded Danvers for hurting what was hers. Because that’s how she thought about Wanda.

The witch blinked tiredly, her eyes still wet with tears. “Really?”

“Really. And we won’t let them get away with this. I won’t let them get away with this.” She squeezed Wanda’s hand, feeling anger swell up in her stomach at the sight of her in this hospital bed. She wasn’t only angry because Wanda got hurt, but also because Carol dared to defy Jean and hurt her girl. The sheer disrespect made her blood boil. She could feel her demeanour darken. Something inside her changed. The desire to take revenge deepened, until it was all she could think about.

She suddenly ripped her hand from Wanda’s and stood up. “I gotta go.” She didn’t even make eye contact with Wanda as she tore away from the bed and marched out of the room.

Wanda stayed behind, her hand still on her stomach, dropped where Jean had let go of it. Her eyes filled with tears as the door slammed behind her girlfriend. This wasn’t the first time Jean had done this, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The personality switches were part of being with Jean. It happened unexpectedly, which made it confusing for the already very unstable witch. She was just about to turn around to face the wall and have a good cry, when a tray of food clattered against the wall next to her, making her jump.

“You expect me to eat this shit?!” Yelled the woman who threw it, Titania. The tray and its contents were now currently lodged deep into the wall of the infirmary. “There is nothing that can make me eat that slop”

“Well then you can starve!” yelled the overworked and tired nurse who was tending to all the prison’s sick and wounded. She was busy enough as it is, she didn’t need to worry about some spoiled bitch who had a complaint for every single thing. 

Wanda watched as some of the slop dripped down the wall next to her. She sniffed loudly and turned around to face the prisoner who had thrown it. 

“I just wanted to let you know that the food normally isn’t this bad.” She said in a small, tearful voice. 

“It better not be! It looked like it was pulled from the trash. I need to speak with whoever runs the kitchen.” Titania huffed.

Wanda let out a soft laugh. “Well, that would be me.” She wiped her tears in vain, as she was still upset.

Titania looked at her awkwardly and then continued. “Well then you clearly shouldn’t be in charge of things!”

Wanda scoffed. “It looked like that because I’m here and not in the kitchen.” She rolled her eyes at the new prisoner, offended at her lack of respect towards a superior, especially one that cooked for her, normally. “Out of curiosity, who is in charge currently?”

“How am I supposed to know? I just woke up and I don’t remember what ever happened for me to get here.” Titania groaned. “I remember how I got here. That bitch Jennifer attacked me! I just got here and she decided to pick a fight with me over nothing.” She had skillfully shifted the conversation back to being about herself. 

“You fought the Green One?” Wanda said, her accent poking through slightly. Challenging She-Hulk was probably at the top of the list of don'ts in this prison.

“Yes I fought her and could’ve won…” She tried to brag. Even in prison she felt the need to make herself sound better than she actually was. It was a coping mechanism really. 

“I’m not so sure about that.” Wanda replied. She had come face to face with Jen before, when she had just gotten here, and she was definitely strong. “Why did you pick a fight on your first day anyway?” She noted, having never seen Titania here before and remembering the fact that she said she recently arrived.

“I didn’t! She picked a fight with me. I was just being given a tour when she went crazy and tried to kill me” Playing the victim was practically something Titania had perfected. “You have no idea what it’s like having everything taken away and now being a lowly inmate. I mean this jumpsuit is absolutely hideous…” in her rant about how much she hated prison she seemed to forget that she was talking to a fellow inmate who had been through exactly the same process. 

Wanda listened to the self centred woman talk, kind of half tuning her out. It was annoying, but somehow also a little comforting to listen to someone else talk shit. She nodded when needed.

“...and then the intake! Forcefully undressing me and then poking and prodding me like I’m not even human. I can’t believe I’m in a place like this! This is some mistake. I’m not a horrible person like everyone else here.”

“You know, I’m only telling you this because you’re new, but you would do well being a little more respectful. I could refuse to give you food if you keep insulting me like this, for example.” Wanda said, without a hint of emotion. She would not let this lowly, self-centred woman get the better of her, even in her weakened state.

“You can’t do that.” Titania replied. “Certainly that must go against some rule of the prison.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, which kinda hurt. “When are you going to learn that there are no rules? I can do whatever I want.” This wasn’t necessarily true, but Titania didn’t know that.

Titania crossed her arms like a huffy child. “You’re just taking the fact that your girlfriend is toxic af out on me.” She said, managing to somehow play both the victim in a situation that wasn’t that serious but also point out something valid. 

Wanda recoiled slightly as if she had just been physically slapped in the face. Her teary eyes widened with shock. “What?”

“I said you’re just taking out your anger at your toxic girlfriend out on me.” Titania repeated. She felt quite validated in her point. 

“What toxic girlfriend?” Wanda spit out, angrily. She felt her anxiety rise.

“The redheaded mutie.”

Wanda ignored the slur and swallowed heavily at the wild accusation. “What makes you say that?” She said in a small voice.

“Well I was like super bored so I was eavesdropping on your conversation and she sounds toxic to me. Just sayin’”

“She’s not toxic!” The Witch whispered defensively, but felt her anxiety worsen, coating her voice.

“Okay, whatever.” Titania replied sarcastically. She let the silence linger.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What if she was?” She sounded quite innocen, which was uncharacteristic and unexpected from her. 

“I don’t know. You admit that I was right?” Titania was determined to ‘win’ this conversation with an Avenger. 

“I…” Wanda shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know what is toxic and what isn’t.”

“Her reading your mind without your consent seems kinda toxic not gonna lie…”

Wanda had to agree there. “Yeah…I asked her not to do it.”

“And she did it anyways, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay right? As long as we talk about it and stuff…” Wanda said, half-heartedly. This was usually how they had fixed problems in the past.

Titania looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “No! That is not okay. I’m really needing to break this down for you?”

“I don’t understand…” Wanda said, genuinely confused.

Titania paused for a moment and really took in her current situation. She was in a supermax prison in the middle of the ocean in the infirmary after getting in a fight with She-Hulk, now talking to an Avenger about consent. Her week couldn’t possibly get any more absurd than this. “In all honesty this topic is totally boring me and I don’t care that much or whatever, but like you have a say over your body…or your mind in this case. If she can’t respect that then there is a severe issue.”

Wanda’s face fell. She could not count the amount of times people had disrespected both during her lifetime. “Oh.” She simply said and didn’t respond, seemingly deep in thought. 

Titania broke the silence. “Don’t feel pressured to thank me for the help or anything”

Wanda nodded absent-mindedly. “Thanks.”

They both stayed quiet after that. Wanda considered what Titania had told her, something that should be kind of logical to her, she had somehow been too blind to see the warning signs, or had just ignored them. It all seemed really clear to her now. She thought about how Jean had left in a hurry so suddenly and realised they needed to talk before Jean would do something stupid. She grabbed the emergency beeper on her beside, pressing the button down harshly so a nurse would come to her aid.

The nurse looked stressed and busy, so when she saw Wanda wasn’t literally dying she gave her a frustrated groan. “What?!”

Wanda smiled apologetically, using her somewhat scary but still palpable charm to hopefully touch on the nurse’s good side. “Uhm, I was just wondering if I could leave? Seeing as you’re so busy and all, I thought I would free up another bed for someone else.” Her voice was sickly sweet and she made sure to smile brightly.

The nurse rolled her eyes, not really affected by her charm tactics but she still took Wanda’s chart. “It seems like they’re holding you in case of a concussion.” She eyed Wanda boredly, her eyes gliding over the others bruised face and watery eyes. “You don’t look concussed to me.” 

Wanda nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I feel fine.” Her face hurt a lot, but she had endured worse.

“‘Kay, I don’t care that much. The sooner you get back in the kitchen the better, to be honest. Food is disgusting today.” The nurse started writing on Wanda’s chart, seeming to get the administration in order. 

“Who’s running the kitchen right now?” The Witch asked, dreading the answer.

“Agatha.” The nurse gave Wanda a pointed, knowing look and tore off the chart, giving the paper to Wanda. Her eyes then fell on Titania, who had clearly been listening to their conversation. 

“You can leave too.” She waved her hand dismissively at the new inmate. Apparently, Titania did not even seem to have a chart. The nurse dropped a bag of their belongings at both of their feet and hurried off.

Titania opened her bag and frowned at the idea of having to put the ugly orange jumpsuit back on. “Hey, do we have somewhere we can change in private?!” She asked the nurse, but the nurse had already busied herself handling a different patient (or she was just ignoring her). 

Wanda’s hands twitched angrily as she took off the blanket and let herself slide out of the hospital bed. Agatha running the kitchen was probably one, if not the worst possible outcomes of this whole ordeal. Not only was she a terrible cook, she had spent every day since getting in here trying to get into the kitchen, either to apply for a job for the hundredth time, or try to seduce Wanda. Her flirting was out of control and it made Wanda uncomfortable, because Jean seemed to blame her for Agatha’s behaviour as if it was somehow her fault. She needed to get to Jean as soon as possible so she could get back to the kitchen that night. She had no issue stripping herself of the ragged hospital dress in front of everyone. She pulled on her comfortable, well-worn jumpsuit and grabbed her things, her movements hurried and stressed. She motioned for Titania to do the same, because she still stood there helplessly. “Just put it on.”

Titania rolled her eyes and quickly took off her dress and changed into her uniform. Before they parted ways, Titania looked at Wanda, their eyes connecting. “Do yourself a favour, break up with her.” She said, and then left the room, being led away by a guard to get to her cell.

Wanda, who was allowed to roam free through most of the prison, took no shortcuts and immediately hurried over to Jean’s room, which was a big, private one with a nice comfortable bed with nice, purple satin sheets, especially compared to the normal bunks. There was a shelf in the corner with a few good books that could not be found within the prison library, and on the top of it a few ‘toys’ on display she had traded with the Widows for her own contraband. On the back wall Jean had carved a large ‘X’ within a circle in memory of her old days in the X-men (they had disbanded after Professor Xavier was assassinated). Jean was lying on her bed, it was still an hour before inmates were supposed to wake up. She was awake, though.

The door swung open wildly as Wanda entered with a brisk pace. She stopped in front of Jean, the courage she had built up to confront Jean immediately dissipated as she stood looming over her. The barred door slowly shut behind her and she breathed out slowly. “Hi.” 

Jean looked at her with surprise. “They let you out already?” She asked in a happy tone, glad to see her. She seemed to be back to her normal, chill self. For now.

“Uh, kind of. Anyway, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Wanda said, her voice unsteady but she was trying really hard to sound tough and stand her ground. 

“Is it about Carol? We just talked about this, I’m going to make sure she pays for laying a finger on you. I promise”

“No, it’s…it’s about us.” Wanda looked at her feet, too scared to make eye contact. 

Jean looked concerned now. “What do you mean?” She didn’t expect this.

Wanda moved to sit down next to Jean, pulling at the skin of her blackened thumbs nervously as she talked, still not even daring to look at Jean. “Well…I’ve done some thinking…And uh, I think our relationship is not good for me.” She almost whispered the last part. “There was a girl in the hospital that said your behaviour is kind of toxic.”

“And you’re going to listen to ‘some girl’ you just ran into in the hospital? What the fuck does she know?” Jean was instantly pissed. “Our relationship isn’t good for you? Really? Because I happen to remember protecting you when you first got here and Agatha wouldn’t stop groping you!”

Wanda felt anxiety rise in her chest, realising she had said the wrong thing. “I know that…but…you used your powers on me again, even though I told you not to do that.” She remembered what Titania had said. “That’s not okay.” She repeated the influencer’s words. Compared to Jean’s, her voice was super soft and her tone calm.

“You use your powers all of the time! Besides, do you know how hard it is to not use my telepathy?” 

“That’s different! I use my powers to cook, to provide for the people here.” Wanda protested immediately. 

“Okay and? I use my powers to make sure we’re safe. I only looked at your thoughts to find out who hurt you. I did that to help you! I always help you!” Jean’s tone became urgent and emotional, but bitter.

“I know that, and I really appreciate it!” Wanda started speaking louder now, too. “But you don’t need to protect me. I can stand up for myself!”

“Like you stood up against Carol…or Agatha?”

“I don’t need you to overpower me or tell me what to do or to take care of me!” Wanda shouted frustrated, her fingers grabbing the fabric of her own jumpsuit tightly and angrily. “I’m done with it.”

Jean got up close to Wanda and put a finger against her chest. “You’ve always liked me overpowering you before.”

The atmosphere now laid heavy with both anger but also sexual tension as they challenged each other with their eyes.

Jean continued, her voice low. “I think I need to show you how much you’re mine. It seems you’ve forgotten. Now be a good girl for mommy… and take off your clothes.”

Wanda swallowed heavily, the dominant tone of Jean’s words hitting her like a truck. She tried to remember what they had been talking about, but Jean had said the exact thing that would make her cave. She could feel her stomach pool with desire almost painfully and bit her lip. “I…” She looked at Jean and saw the other’s eyes shine brightly with longing and another emotion she could not really discern. It was really hard for her to look away, melting into Jean’s gaze. “Okay.” She whispered, and slowly unzipped the jumpsuit she was wearing. She had lost the urge to fight instantly.

“Good girl.” Jean smiled and slowly pulled open Wanda’s jumpsuit, unveiling the witch’s cute breasts. She then took hold of her zipper and roughly dragged it down the rest of the way. 

Wanda carefully put her hands on Jean’s cheeks and leaned forward to kiss her, needing to taste her lips. She couldn’t think of anything else and their conversation was long forgotten. 

Jean slid her hand between the opening of the uniform, down Wanda’s abdomen, and towards her sex. Her long elegant fingers met against her pussy and she began to rub her. 

Wanda let out a strained breath, small waves of pleasure filling her up. Jean was very good at touching her in all the right spots. “Please…” She whispered against Jean’s wet lips.

Jean started to pick up her pace, her fingers rubbing back and forth against Wanda’s wetness. 

“Please keep going.” Wanda whispered, soft moans escaping her throat. She was frustrated with herself for giving in to Jean, but it felt so good that she decided to worry about it later.

Jean enjoyed Wanda’s little pleas, relishing in the fact that she was able to overpower here once again. She had been scared for a second that she had really gone too far, but knowing she still had The Scarlet Witch under her control calmed her, while at the same time turning her on immensely. She loved being able to make her moan with the slightest touch, and teasing her where she could. Being in control gave her an enormous rush of adrenaline and satisfaction. She promptly removed her hand from between Wanda’s legs and licked them off, tasting her. 

Wanda let out a frustrated sound immediately. She wanted Jean to continue more than anything and felt the wetness pool between her thighs. 

“Take that off.” Jean demanded, motioning towards the half removed jumpsuit Wanda was still wearing. She herself got up and removed her own clothes, before making sure the cell door was locked so no one would intrude. She walked over to one of her many drawers, opened it skillfully and removed something from inside.

Wanda had hurriedly taken off the jumpsuit and her undergarments and watched what Jean was doing shyly. A soft blush had made its way on her cheeks as she rubbed her legs together.

Jean fumbled with the straps a bit before adjusting the harness. She immediately felt the power rush through her as she approached Wanda, the thick, dark strap-on dangling between her legs. 

Wanda looked a little intimidated. They had definitely done this before, and it had always been enjoyable for her. Jean definitely knew what to do. It was just a bit unexpected in this moment, but not unwelcome.

“Lay down.” Jean commanded Wanda, who nodded and immediately complied.
Jean climbed onto the bed, on top of Wanda, grabbing the other’s wrists and pinning them above her head, so she could not really do anything. Before she moved any further, she looked into Wanda’s eyes. “Tell me. Who’s the boss here?” 

Wanda’s cheeks flushed. “You.” She whispered, wriggling in anticipation. She wanted Jean to enter her already.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Jean’s voice was low and dominant.

“You are.” Wanda said a little louder, and before she could react, Jean had thrust forward, the thick strap-on entering Wanda and stretching her out. Wanda’s hips immediately buckled and she let out a surprised moan.

“That’s right. You’re mine.” Jean said, and started thrusting. Slowly at first, testing the waters and not wanting to hurt Wanda too badly. The Witch let out soft whimpers and tried to move her hands, but they were pinned securely in place. 

Jean felt the pressure of the strap-on on her own clit as well, pleasuring her while she started fucking Wanda harder and rougher. 

Wanda couldn’t contain her moans anymore and let herself loudly make sounds of pleasure. She could feel the strap-on rubbing against her walls, stretching her out from the inside. “It feels so good.” She whimpered. 

“Only I can make you feel good, you understand? None of them will ever love you like I do.” Jean whispered hoarsely in Wanda’s ear as she thrust her hips forwards. Wanda nodded and her brows unforrowed, the stress seeming to leave her body completely. “Yes, Yes…” She complied, her chest moving up and down with each movement.
Jean continued until she could hear Wanda’s moans quicken, indicating that she was close. She connected her lips to Wanda’s neck and kissed her feverishly, deepening her thrusts as far as she could. 

“I want you to cum for me.” She whispered, wanting the one to be in control of when Wanda would fly over the edge. Right now, she felt on top of the world. 

Wanda's body trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut as she could feel her walls contracting. Sweet pleasure filled her senses as she came, her legs pressed together and her chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

“Good girl.” Jean said, pulling out quite suddenly and giving Wanda a sloppy kiss. She let her ride out her orgasm while unclasping the strap-on and discarding it to the side. She cradled Wanda’s face and pulled a stray piece of hair behind the witch’s ear. 

Wanda’s breathing calmed down and she melted into Jean’s side, feeling comfortable and safe in her embrace. Her head was resting on Jean’s chest, listening to her heartbeat. It seemed stupid to have started a fight now, looking back. She realised she had been wrong. “I’m sorry. You were right. Thank you for always protecting me.” She whispered softly.

Jean, feeling victorious, kissed Wanda’s cheek. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She hadn’t forgotten what Wanda had said, and was already overthinking and trying to figure out how to fix this in the long run, but showed no sign of this.

They stayed cuddling a little longer, before Jean eventually had to get up and get to work. She convinced Wanda to stay there for a while, because there was no kitchen duty to be done until later that night. Wanda fell asleep wrapped in Jean’s sheets, a soft smile playing at her lips, her worries forgotten.

Chapter Text

With the blare of the klaxon alarm, Kate’s first morning of many within The Raft began. The tired groans of inmates all across the cellblock could be heard as they all groggily got up.
Kate’s heartbeat suddenly quickened as she heard Hela slowly rising from her bed beside her. Kate couldn't wait for the cell door to open so she could get as far away from the terrifying Asgardian Goddess of Death as possible. She had not slept a wink, keeping her eyes spread wide open during the night, in case her cellmate might try something. Thankfully, nothing had happened, so far. She pretended to sleep a little longer, so hopefully Hela would leave the cell before her. 

Suddenly, Hela was ominously looming over her, staring down at her. “Awaken, my thrall.” She commanded in a cold distant voice. 

Kate shuddered. The voice scared the crap out of her. “I’m awake.” She whispered softly, not wanting Hela to think she was unconscious and vulnerable. 

Hela smirked, glad to see her subject was properly scared. She stepped over Kate and moved to the bars then stopped. She slowly turned around, leaned over, and brought her pale face to her cellmate’s. “How did you sleep?” she asked, knowing Kate hadn’t slept at all. 

“Great!” Kate lied with a fake smile plastered on her face. Her eyes felt so heavy they were almost filled with tears. She got up with difficulty, her muscles aching from the lack of rest.

Before Hela could get any closer, the cell door drew open and guards could be heard ordering for everyone to step out of their cells. 

Relieved, Kate hurried forwards and slipped through the door, speed walking towards the cafeteria, not looking back.

On the other side of the prison, Yelena awoke with a soft yawn, comfortable at the top of her bunk bed. She could have had a fancy king sized bed if she wanted, her sister had enough influence to get her anything she wanted. But Yelena preferred this bed. Ever since she was a little kid, having a bunk bed had seemed like the coolest thing to her. She didn’t share her room with anyone and the bottom bunk was filled with books and other things she had collected over the months she stayed here. She wasn’t very good at keeping her room organised, but felt a freedom in doing so. She could do whatever she wanted with her room, so why couldn’t it be messy?

She climbed down the small ladder to get to the floor level of the room and looked at herself in the mirror she had hung up in her room, applying her usual contraband-chique eyeliner look as she tried to wake up more. She thought about the previous day and everything that had transpired. Then she thought about Kate and wondered how her night had been. Hoping to see her at breakfast, she checked her own breath by breathing into her hand and smelling it. Wasn’t terrible, for being in prison. She hurried down towards breakfast as fast as she could, eager to see Kate.

Monica awoke with a start, her spine hurting all over from the uncomfortable mattress on the ground. She groaned, having forgotten for a second where she was until it all came rushing back to her. The events of last night staggered her and she internally cringed at what she had done. She carefully peeked at the bed Nebula had claimed for herself and was surprised to see not only Nebula sleeping there, but also Bereet. The tiny form was snuggled up against Nebula, who lay awake staring at the ceiling with a smug look on her face. Monica quickly glanced away, not looking to converse with either of them. As the guards rounded them up, she looked at her feet and stayed silent.

Nebula had had her best night's sleep ever. Her satisfaction was felt deep into her core and she had enjoyed the warmth of Bereet sleeping next to her. She had never been a physically affectionate person, because how could she be as the daughter of Thanos? This new life pleased her, and she relished in having control over her cellmates already. As they were escorted down to breakfast, she locked eyes with several other inmates, sizing them up and making plans for more sexual encounters. Her arm was loosely wrapped around Bereet’s shoulder, who seemed to quiver with either fear or excitement. Or both.

Jessica groaned as she fought to roll out of bed. Last night she’d had the same awful dreams she’d had for the last five years. Just like every other night, he had been there with her and she was helpless in her own body to his every awful command. Instinctively Jessica  stretched her arm out and reached for the bottle of whisky on her nightstand but then was harshly reminded she wasn’t in her flat and there was nothing for her to drink away her problems with. She opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up, she could see that Trish was already up and getting dressed. They both chose to not say anything to each other out of a mixture of anger and awkwardness for the morning and as the door opened they kept their distance, each getting lost in the crowd of inmates marching to breakfast. Just before they were entering the cafeteria however, Jessica noticed Trish being pulled astray by a rather nervous and twitchy looking inmate. They seemed to have some sort of disagreement, before Trish scanned the hallway, pulling out a small bag of some white substance and giving it to the other prisoner. She then noticed Jessica looking at them and whipped her head around, hurrying into the cafeteria. 

Jessica wasn’t an idiot. She knew exactly what she had just witnessed and the knowledge of it had gotten rid of any hunger she might have felt. She still entered the cafeteria though, because it kinda felt like she was supposed to.

Yelena had been sitting at her own table, no one daring to approach her. She had no idea what Natasha was up to, but her and the other Widows always had some secret trade going on, so she supposed it was that. She drummed the table nervously with her fingers, partly worrying Kate had already been murdered in her jail cell on the first day. Relief flooded through her when she saw the archer show up. She beckoned her towards her table, taking her bare feet off the bench. When Kate got closer, the relief she had felt was instantly replaced with worry. Kate looked horrible. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot and she looked around at every sound that was heard, as if she was scared something was going to hurt her.

“Hi…” Kate said awkwardly as she approached Yelena’s table. She was unsure if it was a good idea to sit down, but to be honest, it was nice seeing a familiar face, even if it was Yelena’s. She still had no idea if the Widow could be trusted or not, but for now she would take it. She shuffled onto the bench opposite Yelena and felt the tiredness in her bones and eyes.

“You look rough, Kate Bishop.” Yelena commented, not trying to sound mean but rather concerned. She still had a habit of referring to Kate by her full name. “What happened?” She shook her head at a few inmates who were looking to sit down too, seeing the fact that Kate had joined Yelena at her table as an open invitation to do the same. 

Kate’s eyes bulged as she let out a pained laugh. “You weren’t kidding when you said she wasn’t like Thor. Like, I don’t know him or anything, but I’m betting he’s a lot nicer than her.” 

Yelena sighed. “Well yeah.” She checked Kate’s face and arms for any injury, but she seemed fine. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, she didn’t even touch me. But…” Kate looked around in a skittish manner. “She said she murdered her previous roomie. And she made me sleep on the mattress that was soaked with their blood.”

“Fuck.” Yelena commented. She had not heard of such a murder occuring, but she was not surprised.
They stayed silent for a while, both unsure what to say. 

“Are you hungry?” Yelena eventually offered, watching other inmates return with trays filled with some unidentifiable slop. “I’m guessing Wanda is still in the hospital, judging by the look of that food.” She commented.

Kate shrugged. “I could eat.”

Yelena stumbled up from their table. “Wait here.” She was sure no one would dare to sit next to Kate, a newbie, but still watched the table like a hawk as she went to get them both food. 

Agatha was standing behind the counter at the food court, a napkin covering her uncontrollable, bushy hair like a headscarf and making sure it stayed out of her face. She was wearing an apron and looked to be beside herself with joy. As she was scooping the disgusting slop onto each tray she smiled hugely at the person holding it, completely in her element. “Enjoy, hun!” She would exclaim, causing the recipient to scurry away as fast as they could. 

Yelena made eye contact with the witch, not afraid of her in the slightest. She knew that Agatha only fancied Wanda and did everything to get in her good graces, including being nice to all the other prisoners. 

“Two please.” She said, placing down two trays for her to fill.
“Now, you’re mighty hungry darling!” Agatha replied cheerily as she filled both trays. The slop splattered everywhere, making Yelena scrunch up her nose in disgust. 

“It’s not just for me. It’s for me and my…friend.” Yelena said, not sure why she was sharing this information. 

Agatha winked at her. “Well, enjoy!” 

Rolling her eyes, Yelena grabbed both trays and walked away without saying anything. Agatha seemed momentarily offended by her rudeness, but the moment someone new had turned up, her smile was back.

Monica Rambeau looked down at the disgusting grey substance that Agatha had served her, the mere sight of this “food” made her gag. In an attempt to push aside thoughts of the nausea building in her stomach she chose to redirect her focus to finding somewhere to sit, which wasn’t easy as more and more people filled the room and her options were further limited as she was worried about accidentally taking a seat at one of the many gangs' tables. That’s when she heard a loud shout and looked to see Carol trying to get her attention. 

Monica slowly walked over to the table Carol was sitting at, a little intimidated at her company. She spotted several women she had never met or heard about surrounding her. She stared at the bright red haired woman sitting to Carol’s right in particular. The woman’s hair was astoundingly long and thick, to the point that it was inhumanly possible to have that much hair. It circled all around her and even stranger it seemed to move ever so slightly. 

“Glad to see you didn’t get stabbed in your cell on your first night!” Carol smiled. “Please sit.”

Monica shyly took her seat in front of Carol and set her tray down on the table, she felt a bit like she was intruding on their group. “Thanks for uh…saving me in the kitchen yesterday.” She said awkwardly. 

“No need to say thanks. It really wasn’t that hard and honestly Wanda can tend to be a bit…unstable.” Carol was just a little bit (a lot) proud of the fact she won in a fight against the Scarlet Witch. “She shouldn’t be bothering you again.”

“Thanks.” Monica repeated, managing to sound even more awkward. She also highly doubted that Wanda would just let this go.

The redhead looked Monica over with a sense of dissatisfaction. “This is the woman you attacked the witch for?” She asked, her voice held a sense of regality that Monica found to be strange in a place like The Raft. 

“Yes.” Carol ignored her clear disproving tone. “Monica, this ever-pleasant-to-be-around woman is Medusa, former queen of the Inhumans. Medusa, this is Monica. Me and her go way back.”

“Hi.” Monica shifted on the bench uncomfortably. She had no idea what an Inhuman was, but it didn’t sound pleasant at all. She immediately got the sense that Medusa didn’t like her.

Medusa just nodded. She had nothing in particular against Monica, it’s just that while Carol was still focused on the merry high of having won the fight, she was more concerned with what effects punching Jean Grey’s personal sex toy in the face may have on the gang relations side of things. She eyed Monica, kind of trying to size her up. “Why did Wanda have a problem with you?” 

Monica swallowed. “Well I worked on a case in which she was involved. Well, kind of. She caused it, I guess. She might have kidnapped a whole town…” She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to share, because this was all still considered highly classified, but then again were the people that put her here really worth keeping secrets for?

Carol looked surprised at this information. “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, she had some sort of emotional breakdown I guess and her magic went crazy. We tried to help her…” Monica rambled. “I was even inside it for a little while.”

“You went inside Westview?” Someone else at the table asked. Her tone made it clear that this was something special to them, like a feat.

Monica hadn't expected anyone to know about Westview, so she was taken aback. “Yeah….” 

Carol cut the conversation short, not wanting everyone to get involved and keep asking Monica questions. “So why is she mad at you then?” 

Monica shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess she partly blames me for the loss of her family. She had some kids in the Hex.”

Carol and the others nodded knowingly. “Yeah, we know all about the kids. She’s kinda infamous here for  attempting to kill anyone who dares mention them to her. It’s basically the first rule to never bring up Wanda’s children.”

“Oh.” Monica said, feeling stupid now because that was exactly what she had done. “Well there you have it.”

Carol bit her lip nervously, thinking. “So, she went cray cray on you and I punched her. That’s definitely not good.” She had always been a punch first ask questions later kind of person and it had definitely gotten her in trouble before. She really couldn’t handle having another gang war with Jean and her mutants right now. 

“That is what I have been trying to explain to you. Your brashness has caused a diplomatic disaster.” Medusa interjected. She spoke as if she was in a political council and not sitting at a breakfast table talking to convicts. 

Carol seemed to put weight on her words though and nodded thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do?” She asked Medusa, like a child asking their mother for advice.

“We must do something to calm the waters. Like maybe meeting with Jean personally and apologising.”

Carol scoffed and bit the nail of her thumb. “I’m not apologising to her.” She said stubbornly.

Medusa was quickly getting annoyed. “Your ego is exactly what got us into this situation. If you can’t get over yourself we will have an outright war to deal with.”

Monica was watching the conversation like seeing a trainwreck in real time. “Well, maybe I can just…apologise for you?” She tried lamely. She didn’t want Carol to be in trouble because of her. She wanted to be in Carol’s good graces actually, feeling a distinct need to prove herself to her childhood hero. 

Carol shook her head. “No, no, that won’t be enough. We need…we need to fight them, I think.” The thought already made her feel excited and she wrung her hands together. “We can win.”

Medusa looked like she was about to scream now, but her regality kept that stress inside and she said calmly “I hate the mutant kin far more than you do, and yet I can at least see that they vastly outnumber us and a war would be idiotic”

Monica stuttered, the idea of causing an all out gang war terrifying her. “No, we need to do something else.” Just as she was about to propose a plan, she made eye contact with Nebula, who was heading over to a table together with Bereet. Her eyes widened as she remembered what had happened yesterday and she fell silent. 

Carol immediately followed her line of sight. “What, what?” She said, curious. She saw the blue Luphomoid across the cantina. She had never seen her before and had no idea why Monica was staring at her. “Who’s that?”

Monica shuddered. “She’s my roommate. In prison I mean.”

“Why do you look so terrified?” Carol said suspiciously.

“Well, she uh, isn’t a nice roommate.” Monica answered vaguely. She felt awkward discussing what had happened between them with Carol and especially her friends.

“Spill the beans, sis.” Carol pushed, looking excited to hear about more prison drama. “We can’t help you survive this place if you’re gonna keep secrets.”

Monica looked at the table, feeling herself turn red. “Uhm…she asked me about sex and stuff.” 

Carol let out a giggle. “Why are you all flustered? What are you like fifteen?”

“She made me touch her.” Monica blurted out. She truly felt uncomfortable with what happened and didn’t appreciate Carol laughing about it. Hearing Monica’s tone, Carol immediately turned more serious. “What?”

“She wanted me to show her. Like, how to feel nice.” 

“Oh man….that’s fucked up.” Carol felt bad. “I shouldn’t have laughed, Monica. Sorry”

 She looked at Nebula again, remembering her face. “We won’t let that happen again, I promise.” She moved her hand to cover Monica’s, but the other quickly pulled away.

Though she may not have seen it that way, Carol’s outrage was more than a little hypocritical considering her and her gang had done things similar, if not worse, to loads of other weaker prisoners. It was simply the nature of life at The Raft in her eyes, and yet now that it was being done to someone she cared about it was an issue.

Medusa, who was  unfazed by what was just discussed, cleared her throat. “So back to the mutie issue..”

“I’m gonna make sure that blue bitch gets what’s coming to her.” Carol said with gritted teeth. Seemingly not having heard Medusa’s attempt at a topic change.  She was ready to get up and go over, but Medusa clapped her hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

“You shall stay in your seat.”  She said sternly. “I don’t care about your friend’s quaint sexual exploits, no matter how much she didn’t enjoy it. There is a possibility of war because you keep doing this, you cannot just go about attacking whoever you are displeased with.”

Carol seemed to struggle with Medusa’s extensive vocabulary. She blinked a few times, trying to make sense of her words. “Why not? I’m strong. I don’t want anyone to disrespect me or the people I care about.” She knew she needed Medusa to be her moral compass and for her advice, but it was definitely annoying that she was always talking her down from fights. She let out a defeated sigh at the other’s pointed look though, and sunk in her seat. “Fine…But I’m still not apologising.”

Medusa sighed. She missed the civilised nature of the politics of Attilan. 

Before anyone else could say anything, Carol felt one of her companions tap her arm urgently, trying to get her attention. Carol turned her head, annoyed, until she saw Jean Grey, a tray of slop in her hands, walking straight towards their table.

“Oh, fuck.” She said.

Jean approached them, a smile on her face. “Hey, good morning.”

They all stared at her with deep dread. Monica gulped like a fish but was the first to find her voice. “Hi?” 

“I just wanted to quickly come by and have a chat. I talked to Wanda this morning. She told me what happened. I wanted to apologise for her behaviour.” Not a hint of sarcasm or anger was found on Jean’s face and she looked kindly at all of them. “As you know, Wanda’s….you know. She has some issues. I am glad no one got hurt. She’s my responsibility. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Carol and Monica both were stunned silent. 

“We accept your gracious apology and on our behalf Carol will, in the future, be more thoughtful before starting fights.” Medusa was the only one to be able to formulate a response.

Jean seemed satisfied with that and nodded. “Thank you.” She walked away, sitting with her usual group of mutants. Wanda was nowhere to be found. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Carol whispered, half chuckling. She felt so confused. This was so unlike Jean that it was almost funny.

“I exceedingly suggest you take your win and keep your emotions in check.” Medusa said quickly, wanting this to be over.

“Alright, alright.” Carol raised her hands, suspicious but somewhat happy with the outcome. Maybe Jean was mellowing out?

On the other side of the room, Jean had placed down her tray and took a bite of the food. It tasted extremely salty and she spit it out. “That’s disgusting.” She said to her accomplices, who all looked eager to know what she had said to Carol and her crew. She looked them all over and then beckoned Rogue, who was right next to her, to come closer.

“I need you to do somethin’ for me.” She whispered. 

“Whatever you need, sugah.” Rogue replied, in her cute Southern Belle accent. 

Jean dug into her pocket and pulled out a rolled up stack of paper. She peeled off a bunch of 50 dollar bills and stuffed them in Rogue’s hand. “I need you to talk to that guard. And I need you to make sure that today, Carol and that new girl are shackled together in the mines. And no one else is there.” She hissed in Rogue’s ear.

Rogue nodded, ready to do anything her leader asked of her. “What is your plan?”

“You’ll see.” Jean replied, the usual sadistic joy in her eyes. 

Chapter Text

After breakfast was finished, the guards instructed them all to get their shower supplies. Kate felt like it made more sense to shower after work, which was next, but she guessed it was nice to get a warm shower to wake up to. They all went back to their respective cells, got their supplies, and lined up to enter the showers. 

Titania, who had been escorted to her cell earlier and hadn’t eaten breakfast because she had smeared hers against the hospital wall, had grumpily complied too, looking forward to getting clean at least.

The inmates stepped into the shower room. The showers didn’t quite give off the impression of cleanliness and it had a sense of being worn down and in need of fixing, despite being practically brand new. Most of the now-adjusted prisoners didn’t seem to mind and were just quite relieved as they only got to use this place twice a week (hot water was allegedly costly for the prison budget). All around the assorted super soldiers, witches, aliens, mutants, and spies began instinctively to quickly undress from their dirty jumpsuits and then pick out exactly where they would shower.  In just the span of about two minutes everything quickly became quite crowded, and one couldn’t avoid having their skin meet someone else’s in collision at least a dozen times. 

Kate shuffled forwards through the showers, trying to find a free spot. She wasn’t sure where to direct her eyes without invading someone’s privacy.. She suddenly felt a tug at her wrist as Yelena pulled her towards her. 

“Are you lost, Kate Bishop?” Yelena asked with a crispy laugh. She stood there, completely comfortable being naked in front of everyone. 

Kate blushed and looked at the ceiling, feeling shy looking at the other naked women. She gasped softly when Yelena took her by the hand and began to drag her along towards some free showers. 

Kate’s breath hitched as she realised Natasha Romanoff was standing next to them, also showering and very very naked. She hurriedly averted her eyes.

“Hey.” Natasha said casually, washing her shoulders with soap. “Good morning.”

Yelena smiled at her sister. She eyed Kate, who was still looking away respectfully and chuckled.

“This is Kate Bishop.” She nodded her head towards Kate.

“Nice to meet you, Kate Bishop.” Natasha smiled genuinely. She had no idea who this was, she seemed new, before she remembered that she had seen Kate on the tour yesterday. She was new.

Kate and Yelena had started showering too. Kate had her eyes on the wall respectfully at first, but couldn’t contain herself and peeked at Natasha. Her body was beautiful and Kate could not help but be just a little aroused by her curves. 

“How did you meet my sister?” Natasha asked in a friendly tone. Kate caught herself staring, looked up, and connected eyes with Natasha’s. She realised the redhead had seen her looking at her body. 

“Uhm-” Kate said nervously, gulping. “Funny story actually…” Her mind was blank and she panicked.

Natasha looked at Kate expectantly, smirking softly. It stayed quiet for a while.

“Kate was the archer that stole that suit from Barton in New York . Idiot.” Yelena said quickly, laughing. 

Someone had approached behind Natasha, and Kate stared in awe as a woman started washing Natasha from behind, touching her shoulders and breasts. Natasha leaned into the touch, letting out a satisfied sigh. “That’s perfect, Potts.”

Pepper internally grumbled, feeling humiliated basically working as Natasha’s slave. She was one of the lowest members of the Widow gang, bottom bitch in fact, and Nat made sure she was given the worst tasks. She hated having to work for the woman that once worked for her and even worse was the forced lesbianism, but that was the price she was forced to pay if she didn’t want to have her face buried between the thighs of Hydra or any of the other far scarier groups the prison contained. 

“I see. How is Clint?” Natasha asked eagerly. She missed her most trusted companion dearly. 

“He’s good. Kids are fine. I celebrated Christmas with them.” Kate stuttered. She did not dare mention that Clint had kind of betrayed her in the end, she definitely did not want to upset The Black Widow. 

Natasha smiled at that news. She wished she could see him again, even if it was once. 

“So how did you end up in here then?” Natasha asked. She could feel that Yelena liked Kate, so she tried to show support by acting interested in Kate’s story. 

“Just broke the law, I guess.” Kate replied vaguely. She had a hard time not looking at Natasha, so she moved her eyes over to Yelena instead. She was not prepared for Yelena to be challenging her with her heavily eyelined, hooded eyes. She let her eyes glide over Kate’s body almost shamelessly. Kate hurriedly did the same, feeling the shyness disappear. She felt her cheeks flush at this tense moment and something in her lower abdomen tingled. 

Kate grabbed a shampoo bottle and squirted some shampoo into her hand. A lot came out because she had squeezed the bottle so hard and splattered on the floor. 

Yelena let out a hearty laugh and winked at Kate. 

Kate wanted to ask Natasha so many questions. She had adored her since she was a kid, and how she was standing in front of her, naked, in a prison. She felt suddenly brave. “Can I ask you a question?” she said softly. Natasha smiled kindly and nodded. 

“What was it like to be part of the Avengers?” She blurted out, hurriedly washing her hair with the tons of shampoo in her hand.

Natasha chuckled attractively. “Well it was awesome.” She thought back with a fond smile. “We really were at the top of the world in the beginning.” 

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Poser.”

“How was it to be on a team with only men?” Kate continued, hungry for more information.

“Well, you know, it was difficult at times.” Natasha admitted. “But it was me who held the team together. Not anyone else.” 

“You must miss them.” Kate said sadly. 

“I’m okay.” Nat shrugged. “I’ve got a good thing going here.” 

Kate couldn’t imagine how prison could possibly be classified as ‘a good thing’ in any world, as she was unaware of the gang Natasha was the leader of.

“I see….that’s good.” She replied awkwardly. She stared at the woman who was now massaging Natasha’s hair with shampoo carefully, squinting her eyes. She looked familiar. 

“Hey, you’re Pepper Potts!” She exclaimed, pointing her finger at the woman.

Pepper’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth awkwardly. “Yes, I am.” She said eventually.

“I didn’t know you were in prison! I just thought Tony Stark dumped you!”  Kate admitted, her eyes filled with wonder. 

“Uhm, no.” Pepper said in a depressed voice. 

Kate looked at Pepper and then at Natasha, confused why Pepper would be washing the other’s back.

“Wait, are you two a couple?” She asked Natasha, noisily. 

Natasha let out a laugh, making Pepper flinch. “Your new friend is very funny, Yelena.”

Yelena grinned wickedly. “I know.” She was finished washing herself and her hair and stood there, catching the water in her hands and letting them fill up, only to throw it at Kate playfully. 

Kate didn’t understand what was so funny but smiled awkwardly. “Yeah…” She continued washing her hair until someone bumped into her. 

Monica apologized hurriedly. She was holding her own shower supplies under her arm tightly and was quickly trying to make her way over to the walled off, more private showers at the end of the room. She did not understand why any of the other ladies weren’t using these showers. Why shower in the open when you could have privacy?

She saw a few of the stalls were closed and occupied, but there was one free. It had a small door covering about half her body, and no lock. Still, better than showering in the open. She turned on the shower and felt the warm water run over her skin, relaxing her. This was the first moment since coming here that she felt like herself. As she washed her body with the soap, she closed her eyes happily. 

Her moment of bliss was quickly interrupted as the door to her stall whipped over, clanging agains the wall. Jean and Wanda stumbled in, heavily making out. They seemed not to have noticed Monica. They slammed into the wall, and carried on making out.

Jean squeezed Wanda’s breasts tightly, making the witch moan in pleasure as they kissed passionately.

A blush crept up Monica’s face and she stuttered. “Uhm, this stall is occupied.” 

Jean briefly looked at her, a smirk on her face and Monica watched as her hand slid down Wanda’s abdomen. She gasped as she saw Jean starting to finger Wanda roughly, right in front of her.

Monica realised that nor Jean nor Wanda cared that she was here. She stood frozen until she heard Wanda moan loudly and her fight or flight kicked in. She pushed past the two women, looking to find another stall, until she realised with horror that every single one of them was occupied with women having sex with each other. So this is why people didn’t use the walled showers…

Nebula smirked at her from the closest stall, her fingers deep inside Bereet, who yelled out with pleasure. “Wanna join?” She said in her husky, low voice.

Monica shook her head wildly and blindly made her way through the crowd of naked, showering women. She found a free shower, suddenly not so shy anymore to share the public showers with others. At least they weren’t having sex.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest, feeling uncomfortable and nervous. How was she ever supposed to feel safe in this prison?

Titania walked through the busy showers in a sort of over-stimulated haze. It had taken the threats of a guard to even get her to step into this tiled hell and then be expected to undress before the entire population of the prison. As soon as her jumpsuit had fallen to the ground there had been stares. As she tried to find an empty spot she couldn’t help but think there must have been some mistake. Surely there was a private room she could peacefully wash herself without the ever leering eyes of criminals desperately wanting a piece of her. Unfortunately for the former influencer there was no such place in The Raft and the stares at her flawless body were just something she’d have to get used to, or complain about non-stop (the latter being far more likely with her). 

The aroma coming from her fellow inmates wasn’t a pleasant one (which made sense since they only showered twice a week), and the showers were almost overwhelmed with the conflicting scents of sweat and the soap. It was nearly gag-inducing for Titania, but most things about her situation were for her. 

It took awhile to find a suitable spot in the forest of bare skin, but eventually she found an empty space near the back corner of the room where hopefully no one would really notice her (never in her life had she thought she’d want to go unnoticed but here she was). 

Titania put her hand under the stream of water first and was surprised it was actually rather warm. She stepped under the she noticed that the woman to her right, Monica, had in fact noticed her, but only because it was a somewhat familiar face in the sea of strangers. As Titania showered next to her, Monica smiled at her nervously. “Isn’t this crazy?” She tried to make casual conversation because she didn’t know where to start.

“What? That I’m in prison or that I’m forced to shower alongside violent delinquents?” Titania asked as she turned to Monica. Deep down she was also a little relieved to find someone she could at least vaguely recognise from her intake yesterday that wasn’t a mad blue alien or tough PI.

Monica let out a polite laugh. “Both, I suppose.” She looked at Titania, who looked as uncomfortable as her to be here. “This must be against some law.”

“For real!” Titania exclaimed. “I certainly don’t belong in a place like this, and maybe you don’t either. I’m not entirely sure what you’re in for to be honest.” It was at that moment that she remembered she was entirely naked and so she awkwardly tried to cover herself. 

“Well, I worked for the gov-” Monica started, but then remembered what Yelena said yesterday on the tour. Don’t let them know your story.  “Just used my powers against some bad people and they didn’t appreciate, I guess.” She said vaguely. She remembered that Titania hadn’t been there when Wanda had attacked them yesterday, so she had no idea there was a history there. “What about you?”

“I defended myself from a group of haters. It isn’t my fault they nearly were killed by a bench” Titania said as she reached for the bar of soap under the showerhead. She pondered how sanitary it really was if it was just sitting there having been used by who knows how many other people, their hair still on it. 

Monica politely looked the other way as Titania revealed her body more. “Us supers don’t have it easy, do we?” She said with a grin, not realising many others were looking at her with disgust as she said it. 

“Not at all! It’s so unfair!” Titania appreciated that at least Monica looked away. She seemed like maybe she could be a useful ally here. “How long you in for?”

“I’m actually unsure. I think they said indefinite which is like pretty useless…” Monica said, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh yeah, well that sucks” Titania said, ever so compassionate of others. “I got 20 years, which like is a long time.” 

Monica swallowed heavily. That seemed unimaginable to her. “Jesus…I’m sorry.” She felt bad for the other girl even though her own sentence was probably worse than that. “I think the worst part for me is that I went to them for help…and instead they just put me here.”

Titania stopped washing her hair for a second and stared at Monica in a state of perplexion. “Why would you turn yourself in?” she asked as if that was simply unimaginable to her. 

“Well, I didn’t! My powers were getting out of control and I just didn’t know what to do.” She couldn’t really add that she basically grew up with S.W.O.R.D, because that would compromise her. “I guess you just can’t trust anyone.” She said bitterly. 

“Oh and speaking of powers! These collars are actually ridiculous” Titania complained and then an idea came to her. “What powers do you have? Maybe we could like figure out how to shut our collars off and bust out of here.” she shared the same thought that almost every inmate in The Raft had had at least once in their incarceration. 

“Uhm…” Monica bit her lip, not sure if she should share, also not sure how to describe her powers. “I can do things with energy…kind of. I’m really new to all this.” She could hardly mention that Wanda practically gave her her powers, because that would probably make her new friend afraid of her. “But anyway, I can tell you that no one has ever escaped this place successfully.”

“What do you mean no one has escaped?” Titania asked angrily. “Look I don’t want to spend the next 20 years in this hellhole, it would totally be like worth a shot to try. Unless you like wearing unfashionable orange jumpsuits and showers like these for what…your indefinite stay right?”

“You don’t need to get mad at me, I’m just stating the facts. Of course we can try to escape, but the chance it will work is very slim…” Monica said calmly, not letting herself be thrown off guard by Titania’s outburst. 

“Good” Titania replied in a much calmer tone, now satisfied she’d pressured someone into joining her in her dream of escaping. 

“What powers have you got?” Monica said, while washing her body with the soap she had gotten at the end of the tour yesterday. 

“Well basically the same as She-Hulk’s except totally I came first and am like better in every possible way” Titania smiled. 

“She-Hulk, she’s the one who attacked you yesterday right?” Monica asked, interested to know what had happened. 

“Yeah her!” Titania replied. Out of curiosity she briefly looked over her shoulder at the crowd of other women showering. It didn’t take her long to spot the big tall green woman a little away. Jen’s harem gently washing their buff emerald prison mommy, soap bubbles running down her muscles as her bitches cleaned her with dedication. 

“I see. So you guys have history?” Monica asked carefully. She didn’t want to upset her fun but self-centered acquaintance 

“Yeah. She took the name of my line of beauty products and tried to say I was the one who stole it.” Titania watched the scene unfolding with She-Hulk a little too long before turning back to Monica. “She’s always trying to upstage me and prove that she’s better. It’s like she’s got this weird obsession with me.” Titania projected.

Monica couldn’t hide her frown. “Beauty products?” She couldn’t believe this was something of an issue, being so removed from that world herself. 

“Yes” Titania nodded. “I’d generously give you a free sample of some of the line if I could. But I can’t since clearly this prison doesn't have an understanding of essentials!”

“I’m good, thanks. Well, I’m sorry she makes you feel like that.” Monica felt a bit lost for words. She was used to fighting over food or places to live among aliens and was a bit taken aback by something as simple as beauty products. “Okay, so, we can try to get the collars off with your strength, maybe?” 

“Wow I totally didn’t think to try that already! Great idea” Titania said sarcastically.

Monica sighed. “Well, what’s your idea then, genius? My powers probably would do more harm than good.”

Titania shrugged “I don’t know. I’m not like super sure how these collars work yet.” 

“We’ll think on it. It’s only our first day here anyway…” Monica thought about leaving the showers again and being locked up with Nebula and Bereet later. The thought frightened her, but at least for now they would be working in the mines first. Maybe she could ask Carol for some advice on how to deal with Nebula. “How are your cellmates?” She asked curiously. 

“I haven’t gotten a chance to meet them yet since I was in the infirmary all night. What about yours?” Titania began scrubbing away at her arm with the bar of soap. 

“They’re not great.” Monica admitted. “And that’s putting it mildly. But…I’m going to ask my friend for help.” 

“Not great? Like how not great?” Titania asked less because she cared about Monica being treated poorly, and more because she wanted to know what to expect from her own cellmates. 

“Well…” Monica looked around awkwardly, not sure how to put this, and briefly made eye contact with another inmate with horns who immediately challenged her with her eyes. “My roommate pressured me into having sex with her.” She blurted out, rather loudly, so that several people looked up.

Titania froze and pointed as Proxima Midnight, another child of Thanos, the woman Monica locked eyes with suddenly stepped closer. She seemed to tower over her, her bare built alien body pressed against her arm. “Oh you’re a cute one. I think you have a lot more to worry about right now than your cellmate pressuring you.” She said as flicked the bar of soap that was in Monica’s hands to the ground. 

Monica obviously knew about the saying to never drop the soap in prison, so she stayed stiffly upright. She didn’t need the soap that badly. “I suggest you take some distance.” She said toughly to the alien-woman. 

“Yeah? What exactly are you going to do against me Terran?” Proxima jeered. She brought her right hand hard upon Monica’s lower back and began to slide it down her soapy body towards the woman’s bottom. 

Monica felt herself panicking. It was happening again. She desperately looked around for Carol so maybe she could come and save her, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly she found the strength, her hand grabbed the woman’s wrist, stopping the movement. “Stop.” She said dangerously. 

Proxima grimaced and took a step closer again, reaching with her free hand for Monica’s face, when someone else came toppling against the wall right behind her with a loud thud. Proxima spun around to see what had happened and it looked like someone had started a fight of their own. 

Just a few minutes prior Jessica Jones had been standing under the stream of hot water hastily rubbing the bar of soap up and down in cylindrical circles against her pale skin. She’d wanted to get out of the showers as fast as possible. It felt like anything could happen at any moment…and clearly she was right as she felt someone lay their hands on her back and begin to try and caress her. “Hi new girl.” the stranger cooed as she tried to bring her hand down to Jessica’s arse. 

That was her mistake as at that moment Jessica instinctively threw a punch that hit them square in the face. There was pop and a cry of pain. Her attempted assaulter stumbled back with an agonised whimper as she gripped her now bleeding nose. 

It was at this moment that Jessica was able to catch her appearance. She was a rather short scrawny looking young woman with curly red hair. It was Karli Morganthau, the super-soldier terrorist who couldn’t manage to actually come up with a legit cause from about a year ago. Jessica vaguely remembered hearing about her in the news. Clearly she’d gained some…interesting new political ideologies behind bars as displayed by the extent of Hydra themed prison tattoos that stretched down her freckled body. The two most predominant ones being the massive Hydra skull with its tentacles wrapped around her tits and the swastika on her abdomen. 

“What the fuck?!” Karli shrieked just before Jessica grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the wall hard. Jessica’s nails dug into Karli’s flesh just slightly and she looked at her with a burning fury, but it wasn’t just rage at her assaulter. No, it was a terrible mix of that with her utter rage at being in this place at all. “What the actual hell?!” 

“Bitch!” Karli hissed

“Call me a bitch again. Compare me to a dog. An animal that you can kick and collar. Say it .” Jessicca challenged Karli. Practically daring her to repeat herself just to give her some excuse to take her aggression out on the creep before her. Her grip grew tighter and it suddenly became hard for Karli to breath. Her breaths became quick and shallow. She tried to kick but her attempts to escape her grasp were unsuccessful. Her throat ached as air struggled to pass through and she suddenly began to visibly panic. She already knew that her gang wouldn’t come to protect her at this moment because she’d made a fool of herself. Hydra was harsh in even how they treated their own, especially members that hadn’t been loyal for very long. 

Karlie choked out a meagre “I-I’m sorry” It was her first attempt at taking a new arrival and this had gone horrifically wrong. 

“Touch me again I’ll put your head through a wall. Got it?!” Jessica growled

The Nazi girl fearfully nodded. 

“I asked you a question” Jessica applied more pressure to her neck

“Y-yes I got it!” Karli managed to gasp

“Good” Jessica instantly let her go, allowing her to drop to the ground. Karli slipped and nearly tumbled into Jessica as her feet touched the wet floor. She hurriedly made her way out of the showers.

When Jessica looked up, she saw Trish staring at her from across the room, a smirk on her face. Jessica briefly returned the glance before storming away in a huff. She’d had enough of the showers for one day.

Chapter Text

The prisoners were led in shackles deep down into the dark humid caverns that rested beneath the facility. The journey down was a torturous one in itself as the temperatures slowly rose the farther down they went until now where it practically felt they were surrounded by the fires of Hell. Along the walls of the endless networks of carven tunnels, each made by the very prisoners brought down, were strings of fluorescent lights that staved off the pitch black darkness of the depths. The jagged rock surface was only occasionally broken up by hints of metal that pulsated with a subtle blue glow, vibranium. It was what powered the prison and most of the restraints and bars were made of the substance. There was a cruel irony in how the inmates endlessly toiled to mine that which kept them imprisoned. This was especially ironic for the Wakandan prisoners who had once relied on vibranium for their society, only to have that society destroyed and now tasked with gathering the metal for the people that conquered them. 

The mines were absolutely the most miserable of all The Raft’s many miseries, where down here the prisoners would work for hours upon hours doing backbreaking work with few breaks in tunnels that reeked of body odour. The guards assigned to watch over the work seemingly hated being there just as much as the ones they guarded, often it being assigned as punishment for various things, and they took their displeasure out on the convicts with particular sadistic glee. The prisoners who showed weakness were dealt with and forced to learn that there was no mercy here. Any unauthorised pause only earned that inmate more time working until they either passed out or somehow managed to make it through. A few lucky ones were extended the offer to sleep with a head guard and they’d be given a short leave of anywhere from a few minutes to a couple hours of entertaining the guard before being brought back to resume their shift. 

Somewhere among the hardworking prisoners, Yelena and Natasha were shackled together. Both of them struck down on the hard rock with their pickaxes, the sharp dinging sound echoing on the walls around them and making their ears hurt. Natasha wiped her forehead with a dirty, muddy hand and huffed out air. 

“So, Kate huh?” She said, smirking at her sister as she continued digging. 

Yelena grumbled, distracted. “What?”

“You seem to like her a lot.” Natasha said, non-accusatory. She knew making friends as an adult was something that had been really hard for Yelena, given that she trusted no one. It was surprising to see her interacting with a stranger. 

“Yeah, she’s funny.” Yelena snorted, thinking of all the stupid shit Kate had done after they met in New York. 

“Okay so is she like a friend-friend or…you know…” Natasha tried carefully, knowing that Yelena never had crushes on anyone and was pretty guarded when it came to love. As far as she knew, Yelena had only loved one person and it had ended really badly for her. 

“What do you mean?” Yelena stopped hacking at the tough stone and looked at her sister. 

Natasha chuckled. “Just saying…I’ve never seen you like this. About anyone.” 

Realisation dawned on Yelena and she flushed red. She scoffed and continued digging, albeit using slightly more force. 

Natasha was afraid she had upset her sister, so she stayed quiet. Sometimes, it was hard for her to know how to interact with Yelena, because they hadn’t really grown up together. Both had been through so much individually, it was difficult to know what would trigger the other. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Natasha eventually whispered apologetically. 

Yelena sniffed. “I’m not uncomfortable.” 

“Okay.” Natasha replied, rolling her eyes. They continued working in silence for a while.

“So what if I like her?” Yelena broke the silence suddenly. “Is that bad?”

Natasha let out a dry chuckle. “Well, not necessarily. But…you know what happened last time. It’s better not to get involved with anyone.” She didn’t want to squash her sister’s hope, but wanted to be realistic as well. “We’re in a dangerous place, where love gets your hurt, one way or another.”

Frustrated, Yelena crashed her pickaxe down onto the sandy floor of the cavern. “It’s not the same. I don’t love her. Love is for children, as you always say.” 

“Okay, so what is it then?” Natasha challenged her.

“I don’t know! All I know is that she has a fucked up roommate that’s probably gonna kill her in her sleep tonight so maybe we won’t have to worry about this anymore tomorrow!” Yelena yelled, her voice echoing through the cave. “Who cares, right?”

Natasha groaned internally. Fuck. She tried to collect her bearings. “You care.” She said eventually.

“Yes, I do.  Because she’s a fucking dumbass who can’t protect herself and thinks the world is all bright and beautiful and has no idea that this place is gonna kill her. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” Yelena wiped her eyes angrily. 

“I’m sorry, sestra .” Natasha said lamely. She remembered how hopeless she felt when Yelena came to this place and all she wanted was to use her influence over the other inmates to make sure no one would hurt her sister. It was a dangerous game, because playing favorites could get them really, really hurt. 

Yelena continued digging madly at the stones before suddenly stopping. “I have a plan.”

“Oh, man.” Natasha sighed, already preparing for the worst.

“You’re gonna make it so that she’s bunked with me.” Yelena connected her eyes with Natasha’s. “I want you to try.”

Natasha bit her lip, going over the ways this could go wrong in her head. “You have a one person room.” She offered.

“No, I have a bunk bed. I have space.” Yelena countered stubbornly. “They don’t even have to change beds around.”

“It would draw a lot of attention to Kate.” Natasha tried desperately. “And on you. And on me, in relation. We could get hurt.” 

“You practically own this prison, Natasha!” Yelena said angrily. “You don’t take shit from anyone.”

“And how do you think I got to that position?” Natasha replied, equally as angry. “Why are you willing to risk everything we built, everything I’ve done to protect you, for this random girl you only met a few times?!”

“Because she’s good! She’s the kind of person who doesn't deserve to get hurt by this system. She…she deserves to be saved.” Yelena said, frustration and emotion coating her voice. “She doesn’t deserve any of this shit.”

Nat stepped back. “And what if she dies because you try to help her? What good will that do?”

“She won’t. I will make sure of it.” Yelena’s jaw was set. 

“Fine. I’ll get a guard to change the arrangements. But don’t come crying to me if she’s dead tomorrow. And if this hurts me or my girls somehow, I will hurt you.” Natasha’s eyes flashed dangerously and they stood across from each other for a moment, both breathing heavily. Yelena took her hand and shoved Natasha slightly, playfully.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Natasha’s anger subsided now that she had caved to her sister's wishes, and she continued digging, instead racking her brain on how the hell she was gonna pull this one off. 

On the other side of the tunnel, more prisoners were digging for vibranium. A random assortment of women all joined together by links of chains that clanged and clattered with their every movement. The heavy shackles chafed their already sore bare ankles but for most this was a discomfort they’d long gotten used to. First in the row was Darcy Lewis, using the pickaxe to aggressively have a go at the wall. She’d done something to earn herself work down in the mines and was very angry about it. Not only was Darcy one of the most desired inmates and therefore had a lot of the guard’s attention on her, her ever sardonic wit had a knack for getting her in trouble and this definitely wasn’t her first time here. 

Sylvie Laufeydottir, the time travelling goddess of mischief, panted as she swung her pickaxe into the wall over and over again. She endured the gruelling work the best she could but the futility of it all really annoyed her. Her body was enveloped in a light but visible cloud of cool mist, the Frost Giant equivalent of sweating. Sylvie found herself stranded in this universe a few years ago and it seemed she’d be spending the next few centuries in prison paying for the crimes of her variant. Apparently indefinite mine duty was a part of that sentence. Besides her was Jane Foster, a midgardian bitch she’d claimed and now forced to toil alongside her because why should she suffer alone? Jane fared much worse than Sylvie and looked just about ready to collapse with each swing. She had never been particularly strong, and working in the mines was really tough. To the sides, a huge green shape was moving rocks around and punching the wall. She-Hulk had gotten mine duty as well for beating up Titania on the tour yesterday. Jane envied her strength, as her own arms shook with effort holding the pickaxe. It seemed like She-Hulk was the only prisoner who enjoyed her time here.

Last along the line was Kate who hardly fared as well as the women besides her. Covered in dirt and sweat she panted with each heavy swing against the dense cavern rocks, wincing as the sharp jagged stone ground cut against her feet which was made only worse by the small pebbles that broke from the walls (a pain most experienced inmates grew used to, but proved a memorable agony) Because she hadn’t slept at all, she was quickly exhausted. The work they were being forced to do didn’t really seem legal to her, but she definitely wasn’t about to go and try complaining to one of the guards that lurked behind them revelling in their suffering. 

She was an observant person, her years of archery training having developed her senses to the point that it was hard for her not to always be aware of her surroundings and the people in it. She had noticed how the blonde Asgardian was strong and capable, while her friend was barely getting any work done. She made a mental note to not cross the former. She was terrified of She-Hulk, scared that she might accidentally drop a rock on her. 

Awkwardly, she shuffled towards Jane, being an extroverted person and unable to deal with awkward, prolonged silence. 

“Hey.” She said casually. 

Jane looked over, surprised that someone was talking to her and not Sylvie. “Hi…” She said through heavy breaths while attempting to lodge her pickaxe into the wall. Tiny bits of rubble fell to the ground but nothing significant.  

“What’s your name?” Kate tried nicely. She was definitely not aware that Jane was not in the mood to talk. 

“Jane Foster” She replied in a huff.

“Oh! I heard about you! Aren’t you Thor’s girlfriend?” Kate went off.

“Ex-girlfriend. I’m also the Mighty Thor and a renowned astrophysicist but it’s great to know I’m remembered as his girlfriend…” Jane said bitterly, rolling her eyes.

Kate’s face blanked. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What’s the Mighty Thor? Is that another name for Thor?” 

“Well yeah kinda. It was the title bestowed upon me when I wielded Mjölnir” 

“Mj-what?” Kate stuttered, confused.

“Thor’s hammer,” Jane was getting really annoyed with the conversation now.

“Oh. I thought only he could lift it or something. Clint told me.” Kate was oblivious to the other’s frustration.

Jane groaned from all the questions, but it probably only came off as being tired of mining. “Anyone who is worthy may lift it!”

“I would love to try it.” Kate said dreamily. “I bet it could break these stones in record time.”

Their fun little conversation was cut short as the guard overseeing them barked “Faster ladies! Come on! My grandmother has more life in her, god rest her soul. MOVE IT!” It was difficult to tell who exactly she was yelling at, but it made everyone just a little more tense. 

“Jesus.” Darcy mumbled under her breath. She was easy to scare.

Sylvie briefly turned to face Kate, clearly displeased with her. “Did I give you permission to speak with my pet?” She quietly asked. Despite being used to near constant degradation by her cruel queen, Jane still blushed. 

Kate flushed. “Pet? Huh?” She looked around for a dog or cat or some other animal. “Where?”

“Do you think you are humorous?” Sylvie asked, burying her tool deep into the stone with aggressive force. 

“I’m confused.” Kate admitted. “I was just talking to Jane…Oh.” Realisation dawned on her face and she looked at Sylvie offendedly. “But she’s a person! Not a pet!” 

“You’re evidently new. In prison the strong own the weak.” Sylvie smirked. “Your failure to comprehend that doesn’t bode well for you.”

Kate gulped. “Well, maybe somebody already owns me.” She bluffed. 

Sylvie raised a hand in sarcastic defeat, showing she meant no harm. “I don’t really care. I have no interest in having you as mine. I merely was informing you of something any new girl must know. Especially one of such beauty, midgardian”

“Uh…thanks.” Kate smiled thankfully, though still on guard. 

Officer Renee Winters watched the inmates toil with a sadistic glee. She had been assigned guard duty down in the depths by the warden as a punishment for accepting a few bribes, a formality really. Everyone knew the prison did little against corruption usually but sometimes there were the unlucky few who were dealt with just to give the place the facade of being secure. Still, her “punishment” quickly turned into a blessing as she got to watch criminals be broken down into exhausted desperate messes and she essentially had free reign to make sure every moment was as miserable as possible. For Renee no feeling compared to that of controlling some of the most powerful women on the planet. 

As Kate continued working she noticed one of the guards step behind the brunette with glasses. “You look tired.” Renee playfully taunted.

Darcy sighed and dropped the pickaxe to the ground. “Well, yeah, I am!” She hated the way guards would antagonize them and make the task at hand even worse. 

“Tough break…if only there were something more useful you could be doing…” The guard smirked. Most of the prisoners ignored the entire exchange, but Kate was watching in curious horror. 

Darcy immediately stiffened. She knew where this was going. She could refuse, but the guard would make sure she’d be here again tomorrow. They feigned the prisoners having a choice, but in reality going along with it was the best option. She looked at the huge rock in front of her, which would take at least 2 hours to finish working on, and shrugged. 

“Yeah, okay.”

The guard gleefully nodded and then unshackled her. She then cuffed Darcy’s wrists behind her back and escorted her up the mine shaft. 

Kate heard Sylvie say something that sounded like “Lucky bitch” before violently piercing the cave and having to use force to dislodge the pickaxe. 

The guard brought Darcy through a few winding passageways until they reached a part of the mine that was unoccupied. She removed Darcy’s handcuffs now that they had arrived. “Alright, you know what to do. Start stripping for me.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes and started by taking off her glasses. Immediately when she moved to remove them, the guard stopped her. 

“No. Leave those on.” The guard smiled down at her smugly.

“Okay, creep.” Darcy said, having to chuckle. She kept her glasses on and her long slender fingers moved to the zipper of her prison uniform. She knew how to put on a show and removed the garment slowly, sensually. 

Soon enough, her large breasts were free from the fabric. 

“Never gets old.” The guard said admiringly. It was known that Darcy had one of the best pairs of tits in the whole prison. 

“Trust me, it does.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Wanna touch?” She challenged the guard. 

“No, I’m good. Now then, if you’re wanting a break from mining you’re gonna have to work for it. On your knees.” Renee ordered as she leaned back against the damp wall and pulled down her trousers. 

Darcy slowly got on her knees, her legs pressed against the jagged stone floor, and timidly approached her face to the guard’s cunt. Annoyed with the nervous approach, Renee put both hands behind Darcy’s head and pushed her nose-deep into her bush. “I expect full effort from you.” She admonished. She adored ordering the inmates around, especially when it came to sexual actions. 

Darcy showed inexperience as she sloppily lapped away, eating out another woman had been a rather recent thing she’d learned. Prior to prison Darcy had thought herself 100% undeniably straight, but since her arrival that was something that didn’t matter too much. Limited in options and easy prey for a majority of the far stronger prisoners, learning how to pleasure them had proven to be a valuable thing to know. Renee was blatantly aware of Darcy’s inexperience, but the thrill of the situation mixed with the touch of her tits against her leg more than made up for it. “You can be more rough.” She instructed. She never understood why the inmates were always so gentle. It didn’t feel like much at all like that. 

Darcy hummed and increased the strength of her tongue and her pace. Her hands gripped Renee’s thighs tightly to get more pressure, her fingers digging into the skin. “That’s a good girl.” Renee whispered, finally feeling something.

Darcy was glad to hear the praise, particularly because it meant an orgasm was closer and she would be released. She let the tip of her tongue run across Renee’s entrance, teasing her before entering, making sure to also keep pressure on her clit. It was still sloppy and too soft, but better. Renee’s moans filled the chamber, echoing off the walls. She didn’t care about being discovered, there were only prisoners down here and they were chained down. The few other guards strayed far away from her, knowing her habits. She basically had free reign. 

Renee grew closer and closer, tongue working hard between her thighs. With a triumphant exclamation of pure ecstasy she came hard on Darcy and slumped against the wall. Both were breathing heavy and Renee smirked. “Good job, now you get to go back to your cell!” She slapped Darcy on the ass dismissively and continued to bathe in her bliss, leaving most of the prisoners unguarded for the time being. 

Carol and Monica were working hard, chained together in the very depths of the caves. To the right of them was a large mound, signalling the end of the dug tunnel so far. They were so deep in the caves, their ears popped repeatedly and kind of hurt. As Monica let the pickaxe slump down again and again, she huffed. “I thought Vibranium was only in Wakanda. Funny.” Carol didn’t respond, and Monica felt awkwardness creep up in her chest. “All Wanda had to do is break into this prison to get herself a new husband it seems.” She joked, hoping to get a laugh out of her friend. 

Carol’s eyes shifted over before she let out a careful chuckle. “You should watch your words, Lieutenant Trouble. If her or rather Jean’s goons hear you, you’re toast.” 

Monica smirked. “Ain’t nobody down here but us.” She dropped the pickaxe down lazily and stretched. “In fact, I think I’m gonna take a break. It’s not like anyone will notice.” 

Carol shook her head. “They’ve got security cameras, you know.” She whipped her head around to spot the one trained on them, but her brow furrowed as she saw none. “I guess we’re too deep.” 

“Exactly. So are you gonna keep digging, or join me in this break?” Monica challenged her childhood friend.

Carol shrugged. She knew it was probably a bad idea to stop working, but it didn’t seem like anyone would find out. “Kay.”

They both sat down, stretching their sore muscles in the sand of the cave. 

A comfortable silence was between them, until Carol spoke up. She had wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest. “I never meant for you to end up here, you know?” 

Monica looked at Carol, who looked sadly back at her. “That’s why I left. I didn’t wanna bring you and your mom into any more danger.” 

“Well, she’s dead and I’m in prison, so you did a great job at that.” Monica’s words left her mouth before she could stop herself. She saw the impact immediately on Carol’s face. 

“Yep. Guess I’m a disappointment huh?” Carol said bitterly, wiping her eyes. 

Monica regretted her tone. “You’re not. I know you helped many people. Skrulls.” She realised that Carol had only done what she thought was right. It was unfair to blame her for her mother’s death. Or leaving. “My mom missed you every day, you know?” Monica whispered sadly.

“I missed her more. I’m so…so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.” Carol sniffled. “I loved her a lot.” 

Monica swallowed heavily. “Me too.” She whispered. She felt a little lighter. “I’m sorry for being mad.” 

“I get it. I was kind of the dad that went to get milk and never came back. Shitty move on my part.” Carol joked.

“Did you find the milk?” Monica replied, chuckling softly.

Carol snorted. “No, in fact, I’m lactose intolerant.” 

Both women smiled at each other and the air was definitely lighter than before. 

After a while, they started working again, because they could hardly turn up with zero vibranium parts mined.  

They talked about Monica’s childhood and what Carol had been up to after leaving. Neither talked about Maria’s death. After about 30 minutes, they took another break, lounging as comfortably as possible on the floor. 

“I’m glad I’m not alone. I don’t think I would have survived without you here.” Monica said softly. She realised Wanda probably would have killed her yesterday if it wasn’t for Carol. “That punch on Wanda was epic.” 

Carol shrugged. “It’s kinda my thing.”

“Having a tea party?” Their conversation was interrupted when three shadows turned up around the corner and a voice cut through the air. “Oh, no, don’t get up. You’ll be down soon enough. And your chains will keep you neatly in place.” 

Both women looked up in surprise to see who was speaking.

Jean, Mystique and Rogue were looming over them, pickaxes in hand. No chains were to be seen on them.

Chapter Text

————————————————————————————————————————————————
The known universe, with its heroes and marvels, but what of the darkness? In our modern world, this is where monsters dwell, alongside those who hunt and slaughter them with pride. None more prolific than Elsa Bloodstone, who previously fought her way into controlling the powerful supernatural relic, the Bloodstone, a weapon unlike any other. But now, this weapon is lost to the hands of a new wielder, for Elsa Bloodstone has been arrested. Tonight marks her arrival behind the bars of The Raft. Supernatural killers have gathered with their sharpened shivs, enemies until this night, to avenge their vile kin massacred by Elsa. Woe to the woman who finds herself in their grasp
————————————————————————————————————————————————

The barred gate that led deep into the heart of The Raft slowly drew open with a painfully loud clang clang clang, the sound was as if it would break off its hinges any moment now. Elsa Bloodstone’s heartbeats drummed in her chest, as a child she was told she’d be sealed in a tomb if she misbehaved and in a way that’s exactly what was happening. Already today she’d been stripped naked and poked, prodded, and asked to perform practically every indignity possible all for the intake guard’s amusement, so it seemed to her in this tomb things would only get worse. The cells stood daunting all around, eyes fixated on the English monster hunter, as she was led in. The women within the cells, some human and some not, longed for her with a ravenous madness, lust for blood growing the longer they had been sealed within the violent environment of the prison. Most wanted to see her lying in a puddle of her own blood as the life slowly faded out of her agonised eyes, or made their personal bitch where they’d sell her body out for cigarettes (a fate Elsa considered significantly worse).

At last they reached her cell and Elsa was shoved inside and the guards abandoned her to the whims of whoever else lay within. The monster hunter struggled to regain her balance as she stumbled forwards.
Elsa was quick to notice the hunched over shadow in the corner of the cell. The harsh UV lighting from the hallway that had casted a eerie darkness inside, illuminated the figure barely. Elsa swallowed heavily to prepare what kind of horror she was roomed with when the figure turned around and faced her.

The girl had beautiful, dark, though somewhat matted curly hair which framed her intelligent eyes and tan face. Along her left eye was a strange tattoo that bore resemblance to The Eye of Ra, with a long curl that extended down to her cheek. She was pretty, Elsa noted, which wasn’t something she expected to find in this prison.
“Hello.” The girl spoke in an accent of unclear origin. “You look familiar.”
“Do I? You don’t” Elsa replied rather bluntly.
The stranger nodded. “Elsa Bloodstone, isn’t it?” The girl's eyes widened animatedly. “The monster hunter.” She grinned.
Elsa stared at her unamused, she was hoping that people wouldn’t recognize her. She had a lot of enemies. “Right, that's me. Which of your loved ones exactly did I kill?” she jumped to being defensive fast. In her line of work people that recognized you wanted to gut you alive and then feast off your flesh. It was practically a daily occurrence to come across some revenge driven brood.
“None. We’ve actually often been chasing the same lead.” Her roommate said. “My name’s Layla. Layla El-Faouly.” Layla extended her hand formally.
Elsa shook her hand with caution, wary of Layla pulling out a blade of some sort. “Okay, Layla. How long are you in for?”
Layla laughed in her face. “Does it matter?” She had been arrested months ago for stealing ancient artifacts and breaking the Accords, but that was none of Elsa’s business.
“Fuck see if I try and get to know you again” Elsa replied only half-jokingly. She didn’t socialise very well so this entire exchange was painfully awkward for her. She almost wished Layla had just tried to kill her.
“How did you get caught?” Layla asked, unaware of the other’s awkwardness.
“Turns out killing people puts you on a wanted list” Elsa said dryly
“Yeah, you won’t be popular here.” Layla smiled, she had a pretty good idea of what some of the more supernatural inmates would want to do to a monster hunter. She motioned towards the bunk bed, the top one which was empty. “That’s yours.”
“Thanks” Elsa nodded. “So I take it you’re…I dunno…not going to try and make me your bitch or something?”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t dare.” Layla smiled. She was slumped against the wall on the bottom bunk in a relaxed manner. “That’s not the kind of job I have in this prison.”
Elsa sighed as she didn’t really care, but she felt obligated to ask; “What’s your job?”
“I take favours and payment in exchange for sexual companionship.” Layla said casually. She challenged Elsa with her eyes.
Elsa stared at Layla with muted bewilderment, she didn’t think she seemed like the prostitution type. Good for her Elsa supposed. She shrugged and said: “Whatever keeps you alive”
Layla was trying to discern what Elsa was feeling, but she was hard to read. She cleared her throat.
“If you want, we can be friends.” To be quite honest, she had admired the monster hunter’s work from afar for years and wanted to hear about her travels. But obviously she couldn’t say that out loud, because that would make her seem weak. This prison wasn’t the place to freak out about meeting your hero. On top of that, like she had pointed out, Elsa was not loved here. Many creatures and humans alike had suffered personal loss because of her. It was going to be hard for Elsa to survive here.
“Well seeing as practically everyone is going to want me dead, that sounds…fine” Elsa sighed. “Sorry this really isn’t my area of expertise. I would like to be your friend” she corrected herself.
Layla smiled. “Okay.” She laid down comfortably in her bed, happy to have succeeded. “Tell me how you got caught. In detail.”
“Fine, but you have to tell me about what you did as well” Elsa sat down at the foot of Layla’s bed trying to recall the mental haze that lay over the past few weeks. “I’ve spent the past few months tracking one of Dracula’s last remaining brides through the woodlands and rural villages of Eastern Europe. Took awhile but I cornered her, only problem was that she was hiding out in a cemetery just outside Novi Grad. The dead started rising from their graves and I was forced to use more attention-drawing means to force my way out. Killed the bride but local police weren’t all that thrilled by the undead horde. They were able to link me to a town I’d previously killed…don’t ask that’s a long story…and I was sentenced to a lifelong stay here”
“Wow.” Layla said. “Dracula…”
“Well just one of his brides”
“That’s so interesting!” Layla smiled at the idea. “I love shit like that.”
Elsa smiled slightly, she never got complimented for her work. “So how did you get caught?“
Layla shrugged. “Stole some shit and became the avatar of Taweret.”
Elsa wasn’t as surprised by that as most would be. “Sure. Makes sense”
Layla grinned. “Tomorrow is gonna be rough for you. I’m just saying.”
“Oh I’m sure it will be” Elsa found herself rather apathetic about the whole thing. If this was her last night alive she didn’t really care. She either died a gruesome death (something she’d expected for most of her life) or spent the rest of a long life rotting away miserably behind bars. Neither was very promising.
“Cool. Goodnight.” Layla hoped Elsa was a quiet sleeper, because she hated having a noisy cellmate

Elsa retired to the top bunk as the lights went out, and ever so slowly, with the thoughts of her own demise narrowing moment by moment, her eyelids fell shut and she drifted off.

Deep in the darkness of that night, when even distant moans of intimate inmates had long since fallen away, and the only sound should have been the crashing waves outside, four cell doors slowly drew open. The women within lurked in the shadows of the prison like shades in the night as they converged upon one with a terrible plot. A hint of light fell through as the entrance rustled open. Elsa Bloodstone jolted awake to a piece of fabric being shoved in her mouth as she was pulled down and dragged off her bed, hitting the ground with a soft thud. “Some help Laya is” she briefly thought. Her eyes moved about frantically in the void as she tried to gain some glimpse of who her kidnappers were.

Elsa kicked and attempted to scream as loud as she could through her cloth muzzle, anything to escape their grasp or alert a guard, but it was no use. Her screams came out as muffled murmurs. As they left her cell she managed to lock her foot between the bars but one of her kidnappers grabbed her leg and forced her to comply. When they arrived at the exit, a solitary guard stood watch and she emotionlessly spoke: “Take her to the showers. It’ll be easier to clean up the blood”

So into the showers they went. The hand that held Elsa’s cloth in place fell back as she was pinned against the tiled wall, which came with a punch to the gut. In a pained and fearful haze she looked up and in the flickering light she could now see the five that stood before her; a vampire, werewolf, demon, and a couple witches (Agatha Harkness stood at centre) all ready to see her die. A hand clasped her chest and she felt the cold air of the room embrace her breasts as the front of her jumpsuit was undone. Elsa briefly considered whether this was done to make carving her chest open easier or were the inmates just perverted, or possibly both.
With a last burst of energy she broke an arm free and nearly elbowed a lycan woman in the chin, but a shiv was raised to the monster hunter’s throat. “Try that again” taunted the otherworldly voice of a vampire by the name of Verlaine.
“I expected her to be taller” Agatha bemused, letting out a loud cackling laugh at her own unfunny joke that echoed off the walls and made several others cringe outwardly.
“Sorry to disappoint” Elsa said, trying to mask her fear with a veneer of wit. The blade at her throat pressed closer until all it would take is one push to cut into her soft flesh.
“Oh I promise that nothing is disappointing about you…” Agatha remarked, creepily eying the monster hunter over.
From the shadows cast by the flickering light a beautiful half-succubus woman emerged, Satana. Her fair skin was nearly deathly pale and from her long pure platinum white hair emerged two long ram-like horns. There was a demonically entrancing vibe to her blood red eyes that reflected the Hell within her as her gaze bore deep within Elsa’s soul. “Elsa Bloodstone, butcher of beasts, we have gathered here tonight to gain retribution for all that you have done.” She strangely spoke softly. “Consider yourself on trial on behalf of all monsters. I can’t say that this will be much of a fair one. Well girls, is she guilty?” She flamboyantly gestured to the other four as if presenting Elsa to them for the first time.
The monsters around Satana all jeered in agreement.
“Well that’s sorted, we all agree you’re guilty!” Agatha chuckled and then with a wide grin on her face she spoke “We hereby sentence you to death! Everyone, get what you want to say to her out before we slit her throat…or worse.”
Elsa couldn’t help but roll her eyes as everyone gathered around her all began throwing every possible accusation, insult, and remark imaginable. Finally she yelled “Kill me if you’re going to kill me. But if I am forced to hear one more bloody thing from you lot”
“You heard her.” Satana smiled. “What are we thinking; heart carved out, throat slit as Agatha suggested, gut her alive, or all of the above?!”
Her eyelids fell low as she looked over her sanguine nails and then she looked up and her smile fell slightly. Elsa felt Verlaine’s shiv move away from her throat and her soon-to-be-executors all looked to the entrance at once.
“How about none of the above?” Layla’s voice echoed from the far end of the showers. Elsa took this moment of distraction to take the blade from Verlaine and she slashed her way free.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

The full moon gave way to sunrise and Elsa remained in the showers, beaten and bruised with a few horrid cuts that would probably leave some scars (but nowhere near as many scars as she’d given to her captors), standing in the crimson pool that slowly gurgled down the drain, taking a long moment to catch her breath. Somehow she’d actually survived the night. All thanks to Layla of course. For now it was over. Agatha’s group had been forced to flee, humiliated and bloody, back to whatever gang they came from saying that they’d failed to kill one person. Elsa didn’t imagine that news would go over well with their leader and knowing her own luck more problems would probably arise from this, but for now she was ok and that was all that mattered.
Slowly she opened her eyes and…a witch, the one that had held her against the wall, was standing in the corner. Elsa only sighed and gripped the blood slicked shiv in her hand again and started to walk towards her, but it became apparent that she wouldn’t have to kill her after all as the witch fearfully screamed:
“I-I just wanted to make myself available to you!”
Elsa smirked “Brilliant. You can start by cleaning all this shit up”

Chapter Text

That night dark clouds had gathered above The Raft bringing with it a violent storm. The emergency lights blared pulsating red and the klaxon alerted all, but it wasn’t the lightning crashing all around and mighty waves pounding against the facility that stirred any alarm. No, those were fairly standard. It was what the monitors had detected inside the prison that caught security’s attention. What had started as flickers of orange in a small corner of the showers had turned into a translucent rectangular portal and from it emerged a woman dressed in armour with a long flowing emerald cloak and a crown of golden horns atop her head. Sylvie Laufeydottir, Goddess of Mischief, had arrived.

Minutes prior, a long awaited calm washed over Sylvie as she stood silently staring at the fresh corpse of He Who (No Longer) Remains. An eternally frozen look of agony carved on his dead face as her sword hung impaled through his chest, blood still dripping down onto his purple robes. He was the man who destroyed so much of her life. Her home. Her family was gone because of him. For a millennia she’d sought revenge and it had finally led her beyond time itself. It may have taken shoving Loki through a portal, but she assured herself he’d be fine…

This moment of peace was quickly cut short as the sound of the lighthouse crumbling into nothing boomed through the eternal nothing and then the rest of the castle began to shake. “Fuck!” Sylvie cursed to herself as she quickly ripped her sword out of her slain foe’s heart, muscle and tissue still clinging to the blade, and then desperately fiddled with her tempad. There was just one charge left and no time to enter proper coordinates as the Citadel collapsed around her. She chose to risk it and just hope that it would land her somewhere safe.

The goddess panted desperately as she fled through the glowing orange gateway, emerging dishevelled in…a tiled room. The floor was still slick with water and there was a sort of grime along the pale walls that overall made the room look rather unpleasant. It appeared to her to be some sort of public bathhouse. She briefly looked down at her little multiversal travel device hoping it might at least have some indication of where and when exactly she was. Nothing. The screen went dark and wouldn’t turn back on until it had properly been recharged. Not great but at least she wasn’t on an airless moon or another zombie universe. She’d grown to hate zombie infected universes during her travels. Alarms were blaring though. That was never good.

Sylvie ran out of the bathing room and into a long hallway that was illuminated by flashing red lights that swirled about. The sound of at least a dozen footsteps grew nearer and nearer. She drew her sword just as armoured guards rounded the corner armed with tasers. Weapons pointed on both sides, a guard in heavy metallic riot like gear who was presumably their leader stepped forwards and said from behind a screen veiled mask, “Ma’am, please put down the sword”

Sylvie eyed the guards for a moment, a devilish smirk on her face that could mean only trouble. Unlike her variants who would probably introduce themselves to the guards by now with some speech declaring themselves gods of Asgard or Jötunheim burdened with glorious purpose, she found the idea of it all a little too dramatic. Sylvie much preferred practicality over style. She could fight her way through the all female warriors before her (she briefly wondered if this was a matriarchal timeline, but that wasn’t important at the moment) then question any who survive for details on this new universe.

The guards tensed with the mysterious traveller’s ominous silence…just before she swung the flat of the sword at the nearest guard, intent to knock her off her feet. The first fell hard to the ground and the others advanced, firing tasers and intent on striking with their batons to stun the intruder. Sylvie twirled her sword and caught the first violent baton blow in a tight embrace as a charged tasing shot hit her in the abdomen. The impact of the shot proved far more effective than the actual shock. At best it would be a method that slowed her. With the might of her true Jötun force, she shoved her attacker against the wall and spun around in time to catch another blow with her hand, using the blunt weapon and hitting it’s wielder in the throat with it. The next that tried to harm her was met with a bubbling blast of fiery green magic that bent them to her will.

The Raft’s security was nothing against her power, and that particular group of guards fell in a matter of minutes. Fortunately for the prison, but unfortunately for Sylvie, those few minutes gave the rest of the armed security enough time to properly prepare. As Sylvie stood atop a pile of the wounded she looked up to see a group of a dozen guards emerge in the dim red light. These ones were using various state-of-the-art HAMMER designed vibranium weapons. Before she could even properly register their presence, the sound of another party coming behind her echoed down the hall.

The guards levelled their stun guns at the Goddess of Mischief and immediately opened fire. 4 shots barely phased her, 6 slowed her down. 10 brought her to a knee, and 15 caused her to cry out as she collapsed. The guards took this as their chance to quickly wrap an inhibitor collar, a large device of wires and metal, around her neck and rip the sword from her grasp. For her part Sylvie resisted for as long as possible but as soon as the device locked around her throat with a loud *click* she could feel her strength rapidly deteriorating. She reached up in an attempt to enchant the nearest attacker. At first green sparks emerged from her fingertips but those fizzled into nothing. Her arms were pulled behind her back and the cold metal of handcuffs bound her wrists. She stopped moving and struggling, just gasping for air. Part of her deep down was glad it was over. After an immortal lifetime of running...she’d been caught. There was a certain satisfying finality to that, and nobody could say she didn't fight with her all.

Sylvie was brought to her feet and dragged to a place of uncertainty. She looked around but made no attempt at further resistance. They arrived at an unlabeled room, but upon entering it was rather clear what it was. A small dark chamber with only a table and two chairs sitting in the centre of the room. Interrogation. Sylvie’s handcuffs were connected to a small hook on the table and then she was left in blissful silence as she mentally recovered from her brutal beating. She breathed slowly, trying to calm myself before whatever came next.

The exact amount of time she was left to wait was rather unclear to her. Time seemed to drag when she wasn’t constantly living in an apocalypse. Eventually the door was thrown open and a woman with long black hair dressed in a dark purple skirt and blouse stepped inside, Warden Valentina Allegra de Fontaine would be handling things personally. Sylvie noted the newcomer hardly seemed to fit in with the armoured warriors that she’d previously encountered.
“Applause are owed to you for managing to do whatever you did tonight. It's not easy to do what you did. You made my women, some of the most highly trained professionals in the world, look like a bunch of minimum-wage mall cops. That’s hurtful. Don’t even get me started on my bewilderment at how you somehow managed to get past our anti-teleportation technology. Pretty impressive I must say” the woman in purple complimented in a sickly sweet tone.
“Thank you...but it wasn't exactly intentional. I'm just passing through” Sylvie replied
“Oh you’re a comedian too I see” Val rolled her eyes “No one is “just passing through” here. Tell me who you were trying to break out and we can get this over with a lot faster”
Sylvie looked at her with genuine confusion. "Break out? Is this some kind of prison?"
“There’s playing dumb and then there’s just pretending to be a moron but fine I’ll play your game. Yes it’s a prison. Actually kinda y’know the most secure women’s prison on the planet.“
Sylvie nodded, taking that in. "And based on your appearance and style of dress, we're in Midgard, correct?"
“Ok so you’re Asgardian! Good to know. There we go a bit of information!” Val replied condescendingly. “Yes this is Midgard”
"Seven other realms call this place Midgard, you know, and that's not even pointing out parallel realities." Sylvie pointed out. "...But yes I am Asgardian...or Jötunheimen, depending on perspective, Midgardian”
“So which of the Norse goddesses are you? Or are you just some random Frost Giant?” Val finally took a seat opposite Sylvie and began writing in a file.
She sighed. "I don't suppose the name Sylvie Laufeydottir means anything to you?"
Val pondered the name of Laufeydottir for a moment trying to remember why that sounded familiar. Annoyingly rapping her pen against the table as she thought. Then it connected. “Laufey? So you’re related to Loki?”
"Sort of. I am a Loki from another timeline”
Val looked at Sylvie, not entirely convinced. “Sure”
Sylvie raised an eyebrow at her obvious scepticism. "You don't know about parallel timelines? Right, this clearly isn't a TVA facility. And...you've already encountered my counterpart in this timeline?"
Val looked unamused. She took a long pause before asking with exasperation “You’re just Loki aren’t you? I mean we thought you were dead, but then again it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve faked your death”
"Well yes I am Loki. That's what I was named, anyway, but that isn't my chosen name." Sylvie replied, oblivious to the cultural context her words took on.
“Ok….” Val nodded. Deciding she’d need to call more than a few people to discuss what to do now that Loki was A) alive and B) captured. “Well this has been an enlightening conversation. One of my officers will be in here to continue asking you questions”
"Will I get to ask questions at any point?"
“Depending on how much you cooperate, yes maybe”
Sylvie looked her in the eyes for a long moment, ready to argue...but quit. "Alright."
She’d destroyed the TVA, defeated her greatest enemy in He Who Remains… and now was ready to rest. In prison? Sure, why not. Seemed as good a place as any to her.
——
Another long wait passed of sweet boredom for Sylvie. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt genuine boredom since she was just a child on Asgard. Occasionally she’d test the resilience of her cuffs but they held strong. In fact it felt like they were draining her every time she tried to pull at them.
Eventually a tall brunette officer stepped in, having been given a quick summary from Val she felt she semi-know what to do. Just fill out the file and, more importantly, process the new arrival. Her heart already ached to just get to the latter task. “Alright so what’s your name?”
"I am Sylvie Laufeydottir, Princess of Asgard and Jötunheim" she replied calmly. "Yours?"
“Officer Sarah Weaver”
"Nice to meet you." Sylvie said, with a smile that could be anything from purely sincere to bitingly sarcastic. It was difficult to tell with her.
“Yeah likewise.” Weaver took a seat. “Ok so how did you break in?” she asked with extreme disinterest.
"I used a Tempad. Time-travel technology from the TVA...I think I dropped it when I was captured so you should have it. Not certain if you’ll know how to properly use it though” Sylvie leaned back as far as the chain of the cuffs would allow.
“Ok. Well then I suppose it would be best to get you situated within this facility.”
"Yes, I think so. Tell me, what is this place?" Sylvie asked
“It’s called The Raft. The most highly advanced facility meant to hold enhanced women, like yourself, that exists. Outside these walls are about 2000 kilometres of ocean standing in the way of any land mass. So don’t think of escaping” Weaver answered, just a little too happy to state how hopeless the situation of prisoners looking for freedom truly was. She liked letting the sorry women that were incarcerated know just how isolated from the outside world they were.
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of escaping. But criminal? What crimes have I committed in this world and timeline?" Sylvie figured she was getting locked up, but wanted to hear their justifications anyway.
“Terrorism, mass murder, destruction of a city, trying to conquer the world. All that stuff” Weaver named a few examples off a long list of crimes.
"Really? I did all that? Quite a feat, given that I've never been here before." Sylvie replied, knowing there was no use in trying to explain the whole variant thing but still needing to at least say something.
Weaver ignored the last bit and continued asking some standard questions for far longer than either woman wanted to bear. It dragged on…and on…and on.

Chapter Text

Monica felt her stomach drop as she saw the threatening women looming over her. The three mutants stood menacingly like a triad of witches hell bent on some form of archaic vengeance. Standing at center was Jean and to her left was Rogue, a younger Southern mutant with flowing brunette hair that had a sole streak of pearl white running through, and to the right was Mystique, feared shapeshifting mutant-supremacist who was shockingly entirely naked. 

Jean, for her part, was no longer in control. Though conscious of what was happening, she was sealed away deep inside and a dark twisted being she’d long struggled with now held dominion over her body.  

Monica went to get up and move out of the way but the chains on her ankles pulled taut and she had to try very hard to not fall over back onto her butt. 

Jean’s eyes burned afire like the flickering embers of a reborn Phoenix, pupils bright with shifting shades of molten gold and flame. Her voice dropped an octave from its formerly-natural state as she spoke:

“You really shouldn’t be taking unauthorised breaks like this. The guards are strict on lazy inmates” The Phoenix remarked

“Jean.” Carol said, smiling sadly, also getting up. “I already expected you weren’t really that forgiving. But c’mon, this is low. At least make it a fair fight.” She felt panic rise in her chest, but hid it really well. Her hands were raised defensively. Though she did not have her full powers, her hands were still really strong and as she had proved earlier that week, could definitely knock someone unconscious. They sparkled weakly now.

“Jean is in here…somewhere, but no I am in control now and I will be far less forgiving of your transgressions” The Phoenix replied, unable to stand being confused with the woman she was forced to share a body with. 

Monica stepped in front of Carol, careful to not fall. “Leave Carol out of this. She was just defending me.” 

Carol was surprised by her friend’s confidence and loyalty. Her mom and her really did a hell of a job raising her. 

The Phoenix chuckled dryly, the joy not reaching her eyes in the slightest. “I am defending what’s mine too.” 

She motioned to Rogue and Mystique to move and both women immediately complied. Monica let put a grueled pathetic cry, screaming: “What the fuck?!” as Rogue grabbed her by her neck. 

Rogue’s touch felt like a dozen little needles being pushed just deep enough into Monica’s throat to prick against each and every little nerve. 

The Phoenix smirked wickedly, testing out the swing on the pickaxe she brought with her. “The guards really don’t give a shit that some of us still can use our powers, do they? For example, I could make you see things that would make any pain in the physical realm seem a sweet relief, your mind engulfed in flame.  But I won’t…”

Monica breathed out in relief. Carol got even more scared. Mystique had approached her and Carol had swung at her, but the trained shapeshifting assassin easily deflected the blow and gripped Carol tight, pressing the tip of a blade against her throat to keep her from moving. 

The Phoenix continued talking “...I won’t because I’d prefer to leave you with something to reflect upon when you think of touching what belongs to me. Consider it my mercy” She enjoyed seeing the two women that had hurt Wanda so powerless. 

“You sound like a classic movie super villain, you know that?” Carol said, getting fed up with this unfair attack on her and Monica. She should have not let her guard down, and not believed Jean, or whatever was currently possessing her, was suddenly the forgiving sort. “Does Wanda know you’re doing this?” She tried hopelessly. “We all know she’s not above hurting people, but I don’t think she would approve.”

“Wanda doesn’t know anything. That’s her problem. She has allowed people to walk all over her since she came to this place.” The Phoenix rolled her eyes. “She needs me to protect her. That’s all I’m trying to do..” She looked at Monica. “Because of you, Carol hurt her face. Her beautiful, innocent face.” The Phoenix’s molten eyes looked crazed now, flaring at Monica intimidatingly. “For that, you must be punished.” 

Monica stiffened. “I really didn’t mean to upset her. I tried to be friends with her in the past.” She rambled.

“I don’t care about your intentions. You should have stayed out of our business. And I have thought of a perfect punishment for you.” 

Monica struggled to not think of the most horrible things that could happen next. She tried not to flinch when Jean moved her hand up, but did so involuntarily. Her skin still burned where Rogue touched her, holding her back. Carol let out a growl as she expected Jean to hit her friend.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. Not you. I’m going to hurt your friend.” The Phoenix smiled sweetly. “Rogue, honey, please move her to the wall a bit. I don’t want her to get too close and get any ideas.” 

Rogue complied and pulled Monica along, until the chains around her ankles were stretched and couldn’t go any further. “If you move, I’ll cut your ears and lips off.” 

Monica swallowed heavily and nodded. 

Jean’s sparkling, angry eyes focused on Carol, who had her eyes trained on Monica and Rogue since they moved. “Carol.” She hissed. “Look at me.”

Carol’s eyes lazily moved towards her and she challenged her with her stare. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Well, since you hurt what I love and need, I thought I’d return the favor. And I don’t mean this pathetic friend of yours. No, I want to hurt you. Because the thing you love the most is yourself. You act like you’re on top of the world. It’s sickening.” The Phoenix prodded the tip of her finger with the pickaxe, testing out the sharpness. “You think no one can hurt you. That you’re too strong.”

“That’s not true.” Carol said, shrugging. “I think you’re reflecting your own insecurities a bit there.” 

She knew she was not helping her case at all by insulting Jean, but she was not a coward. She would never plead for her life. She’d rather go out with a bang.

“You’re mistaken.” The Phoenix whispered. “I’m gonna prove I can hurt you. Since you hurt my Wanda…I hope you can understand. What’s the expression? An eye for an eye…” 

Jean softly set her pickaxe against the wall and then pulled a crude weapon out from her jumpsuit. A makeshift shiv made from a lovingly sharpened plastic fork with a handle of stolen bandages to avoid the wielder cutting herself.
The Phoenix got close enough that Carol could feel her hot breath against her skin and stare deep into her hollowed eyes of pure madness. They continued this direct eye contact as Jean raised the shiv into view and slid it’s sharpened tip against the rim of Carol’s iris and slowly slid it downwards in an agonising trajectory. Blood and tears mixed as her eye was carved from its place and hewn in half by Jean’s steady hand. Carol cried out and attempted with all her might to break free, but to no avail. By the time Jean had finished, Carol was a sobbing mess of agony. Half of her fair face ran red with the opened wound. 

The Phoenix stepped back with a satisfied smile. She wiped a bit of blood off her fresh orange jumpsuit, which just spread the stain further. 

Tears were streaming down Monica’s face and her mouth was opened in a silent scream of horror. “What is wrong with you?!” She shouted, pulling against her restraints, trying to get to Carol. 

Rogue let out a chuckle. “So much.” She said softly so only Monica could hear. “Now hold tight, Sugah” Rogue teased as she held Monica against the ground, her arms out. 

“So what will you girls not do again? Say it and we can be done” Jean asked, her voice as condescending as possible.

Monica felt anger, fear and sadness pool together. 

“Fuck you.” She spat. 

“That’s too bad.” The Phoenix said, grabbing the pickaxe from the wall. She twirled it in her hand before bringing it down with all her might into Monica’s fingers. There was an agonising cry and sickening snap. Where two of her fingers had been there were now only gory stumps. 

“Look at that! A clean cut right there. I did it first try” The Phoenix laughed as blood gushed out on the stone floors of the mine. She raised the pickaxe and looked at the crimson that now dripped from her wretched tool, the gentle sound of droplets falling to the ground drowned by Monica’s unceasing pained howls of unbearable pain. 

Jean looked annoyed as the unmonitored time she’d bribed the guards for was coming to an end. “This has been fun, but unfortunately we have to go.” she said with a snap of her fingers and her two enforcers let go of Monica and Carol.

“I hope you learned your lesson.” The Phoenix said strongly, looking at both women laying bleeding on the floor of the cave before turning away, Mystique and Rogue following her. The sobs of both Carol and Monica were the only sounds reverberating off the wall.

Chapter Text

Blinding pain was the only thing Carol felt. Her entire face felt like it was on fire and she sobbed silently in agony. She wished she could die just so the pain would stop but she sadly didn’t seem so lucky. Her entire body was shaking from the mixture of the pain and the sudden shock. Her eye. Her right eye had been stabbed. 

“Carol?” Monica said to her in a whimper, mind still flashing with the torments The Phoenix had shown her. Words couldn’t begin to describe the vast depths of flaming depravity that had been carved deep into her mind, so terrible that they’d merged into a molten blur that she barely remembered. 

Carol could hear shuffling on the cave floor and the moving of dirt and then felt Monica clutching at her body. She didn’t have the mental energy to reply, so she just moaned. 

Monica’s hand was wrecked and she feared she might bleed out and die right here, but she ripped a part of her prison uniform and wrapped her bleeding hand sloppily inside it. With a sickening feeling she realised her fingers were on the floor next to them and she pocketed them, resisting the urge to vomit. Maybe the nurses could somehow reattach them. Her good hand felt for Carol’s neck and then her pulse, gratefully realising her friend was still alive. She heard her moan vaguely and felt her heart drop as she looked at the damage Jean had done to her eye. She didn’t dare look longer and averted her gaze. “Help!” She yelled out desperately, feeling that Carol didn’t have long with her eye socket exposed and bleeding in the cold air. Her voice cracked and she tried again, repeatedly asking for help in the dark air of the cave they were trapped in. She wrapped her good arm around Carol protectively and felt desperation rise.

It took a long time before she was greeted with the sound of footsteps in the distance. Part of her worried Jean and her gang were coming back for a second round and she braced herself to protect Carol’s body incase that happened. Three guards rounded the corner and she breathed out in relief. “We need help, we’ve been attacked.” She yelped.

“What the fuck happened here?” Said one of the guards, immediately moving to Carol to check on her vitals. “Jesus.” 

Monica wanted to snitch on Jean and her gang, but somehow knew that would only make it worse. “We got attacked. Didn’t see who. Please help her.” 

One of the guards knelt down next to her and grabbed her injured hand roughly by the wrist. “Who did this?” She asked, making eye contact with Monica who winced in pain.

“I don’t know!” She cried. 

The guard huffed and let go of her. “I think your friend’s the one with the injured eye, not you. But okay.”

She motioned for the guards to get backup and not much later both Monica and Carol were rushed to the prison hospital.

The Phoenix had relinquished its sharp grip on Jean for the time being and left her to deal with the fallout of what happened in the mines. Just like so many times prior, the burning sadistic rage of the Phoenix abandoned Jean in the wake of its disasters. As always, Jean was at first sickened by her other’s actions, but she resolved to move on and do what she could to forget it ever happened for as long as possible. The consequences would find her soon enough, but for now she had peace. Nothing had happened in the mines. She’d returned to her cell and was peacefully sprawled across her bed boredly reading a book when the cell door abruptly began to open and from the corner of her eye she could see someone entering. 

“Hi” Jean passively greeted without bothering to look up from her page at who it could be. She already knew who it was just by quickly glancing over their current thoughts. 

“Where have you been?” Wanda asked, a little ticked off. “I was looking for you earlier.” Jean noticed Wanda seemed stressed and worried. Her thoughts confirmed her suspicions as the witch’s anxieties about Jean being up to no good swirled around and around. 

“I had a few Sisterhood matters to deal with. Nothing worth worrying about'' Jean grew a little tense. Blips of the shiv in her hand slowly carving through gore and flesh flashed in her mind. Doing her best to push it out of her conscience, she finished the last sentence of her page and softly set the book aside to give Wanda her full attention. Brushing aside a strand of her bright red hair off her face and furrowed her brow at Wanda’s lack of action. “What’s the rule we established about you being in my cell?”

Wanda’s brow furrowed as she sat down next to Jean on the bed. She looked concerned. “What are you talking about? There is no rule.” She wondered if her girlfriend might be losing it. “I’m worried about you. Please tell me where you were today.”

“Oh right we haven’t discussed your new living conditions yet. Take off your jumpsuit. I want you naked whenever you’re in my cell” Jean sounded just a little annoyed that Wanda didn’t somehow know about this previously unspoken rule. Maybe her irritation was that the little witch wanted details and it was a topic she knew would upset her. It wasn’t worth accessing the source in her opinion. “I appreciate your concern but really I’m fine”

Wanda scoffed. “W-What are you talking about?”

“It’s the new rule of you getting to come in here” Jean shrugged. “Getting” being flimsy at best considering the prison forced them into being cellmates.

Wanda checked Jean’s face to see if she was joking. “I’m not an object, you know.” She whispered.

Jean softly smiled and tried to sound sweet “Oh I know that. Of course I know that. I love you. It’s just that this would make me very happy”

Wanda’s shoulders slumped. “Why won’t you just tell me what happened?” 

“I told you already. I met with members of the Sisterhood and we discussed a few matters. Why the fuck do you care so much?” the sweetness in Jean’s tone slipped before she breathed and resumed where she left off. “Look, I've had a really long day. Can you just take off your clothes?” Wanda probed for answers on a topic that Jean wanted to be distracted from. 

Wanda’s jaw clenched. “Well, I’m not really in the mood. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”

Jean’s expression darkened and her eyes flickered alight. The Phoenix emerged for a moment and spoke: “What do you mean you’re not in the mood?! You belong to me! I tell you what to say, when to shut up, and when I want you to fuck me and you do exactly as I command. I require very specific things from you and if you can’t provide them well you’re basically useless. What we have going here is a deal. I protect you from all your friends in Hydra and whoever else is on the long list of people you’ve pissed off while on your many emotional fits, all of whom I’m sure would be more than happy to harm you in ways you can’t even imagine by the way, and in return all I ask of you is to do what I want. Without me you’d be between Agatha’s legs under threat of death. I protect you so you’ll strip when fucking I tell you to! Got that?” before falling back into slumber and letting Jean handle the rest. 

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears and she swallowed heavily. In any other world, she would refuse and go against her girlfriend, but she was right. She needed Jean to protect her. “Okay.” She simply said, sniffing and wiping her eyes hastily before unzipping her jumpsuit once again. 

The Phoenix exhaled slowly and nodded in satisfaction at Wanda’s compliance. “Thank you” she smiled.

Wanda looked at Jean expectantly, not sure what the other wanted her to do. 

Jean shuffled down the bed and reached down under it. She grabbed a box, the inside clattering together as she moved it up on the bed.

Wanda knew the box very well. It contained a variety of sex toys and other paraphernalia they had used in their previous sexual escapades. Just the sight of it already turned her on and she felt desire pool in her lower abdomen, regardless of the circumstances. Part of her loved being dominated by Jean, even though she knew that she was being treated badly. Especially when Jean’s dark side took over. Wanda didn’t completely understand it, but she knew Jean didn’t do it on purpose. However, the two sides of her girlfriend were so intertwined together, that it was hard for her to tell which was which. It was really confusing and right out hurtful at times. 

Jean noticed Wanda’s eyes following her movements closely and smirked. She knew Wanda’s mental conflict well, but if she had to deal with it so too did the witch. As if justifying things to herself she said, “You really are lucky that it’s me, and not her” 

Wanda nodded obediently and her hand moved towards the box, trying to show initiative to go all the way. 

Jean stopped her hand by grabbing her wrist. 

“I decide. Not you.”

Gulping, Wanda put her hand back in her lap. “Okay.”

Jean let out a sigh. “Honestly I don’t feel like doing much today. I’m tired. Today, I’d like to just watch. And you do what I say.”

Her hand dove into the box and she pulled out a small device Wanda knew all too well. It was probably her favorite. It was a soft rose gold and had a white tip.

Jean handed it to Wanda and then shuffled back down towards her comfortable sitting place with her pillow against the wall. “Go on.” She motioned Wanda.

Wanda sat on the other side of the bed, her back also leaning against the back of it, and got comfortable. 

Her long sleek fingers carefully pressed the device between her legs and she turned it on. She was used to turning it up to the fastest setting, because that simply felt the best. But when she proceeded to do so, Jean audibly stopped her. “No, that’s too fast. Slow.”

Wanda groaned but complied. She set the device to the lowest setting and pushed it up against her skin. The vibrations were barely there, but still teased her a little bit. She watched Jean with big eyes, who seemed satisfied. “Play with yourself.” She ordered.

Wanda’s hand flew towards her own breast as she squeezed it, fingering the nipple carefully. She let out a quiet breath at the feeling.

Jean’s sight remained fixed on Wanda as she exhaled softly and started to slowly undo her own jumpsuit. The uniform glided open and the mutant slid her hand down along her abdomen in anticipation. Unable to wait as she originally planned, her fingers seemed to drift downwards beneath the cover of orange fabric and softly pressed between her legs. 

Wanda noticed her girlfriend’s movement and smirked softly. It felt good to be able to turn her on, even though she wasn’t really allowed to touch Jean. She had some issues with being vulnerable, which Wanda respected. 

“Turn it up a bit.” Jean said, her breath a little more ragged.

Wanda complied and immediately felt the sensation become stronger, turning her on more and also feeling good in general. 

Jean’s pace quickened alongside her, rubbing in sporadic circular motions.

Wanda studied Jean carefully, trying to figure her out. While the waves of slight pleasure went through her, she was also still thinking about what Jean had been up to. She hated being left out of her plans, because it usually was nothing good. And she felt responsible for trying to prevent her from hurting people, but that was hard to do when she was of a lesser station with The Sisterhood. 

Jean looked at her face and raised her eyebrow. “You’re distracted. That’s not what I want to see.”

Wanda looked up, caught, not sure what was gonna happen next.

“Turn it up all the way.” Jean commanded. She watched Wanda’s face carefully.

Wanda couldn’t stop the moans escaping from her mouth as the vibrator rocked her world. All other thoughts were expelled from her mind. She closed her eyes in pleasure, no longer focused on Jean or even anything but the feeling between her legs. It didn’t take long for her legs to start shaking and she felt herself getting extremely close to a climax.

Suddenly, the vibrator was snatched from between her legs. The loss of pleasurable sensation made her audibly groan. Her eyes shot open and she watched Jean waving the vibrator in her hand, an evil smirk playing on her face. 

“What are-“ Wanda didn’t even have enough time to properly react before Jean, now completely undressed, had cast the toy aside and pushed the witch down against the mattress. 

The mentally unstable redhead she called her girlfriend slid forward across the sheets and sat herself down atop Wanda’s stomach, slowly rolling forth until her face hovered above the witch’s. Wanda, unable to turn away from the brewing embers in Jean’s previously hazelnut eyes, felt her wrists being grabbed and then pinned down above her. 

“Do you remember when you first arrived here? How you begged *her* for penance?” Jean asked with bated breath. 

“Jean, please stop” Wanda whimpered softly, very uncomfortable but trying to not offend Jean as her mind raced with memory and fantasy. Flashes of red chaos rushed across her mind in sanguine destruction as the temple of Mount Wundagore crashed down atop her. She felt a deep hollowness, like that which she felt when the Darkhold still held her bound, and the guilt of the many she’d killed in her pursuit for her own desires. The witch slowly sunk into the grief, barely noticing the sensations of Jean grinding her wet womanhood against her body.

The sound of her girlfriend's moans pulled her from the recesses of thought and she tried to wrench her mind from the void she teetered over…but she couldn’t. It wasn’t just the inability to focus her mind elsewhere, it felt as if something held her mind in place and played through them. It quickly became apparent what was happening.

“Jean, stop!” Wanda yelled much less worried about hurting her feelings now. She felt trapped, both physically and mentally.  Reliving her memories hurt her to the bone.

In a voice unlike her own The Phoenix responded between menacing moans of her own self pleasure: “Do I not bring you what you once pleaded for? Is torment not what you deserve?” 

Rolling her hips with each pass of her lips, slipping across the wetness still pooled across Wanda’s crotch, The Phoenix probed deeper into memories and sensations. 

Wanda’s mind flickered forth from the ruins to what she remembered next, the sudden release of the wreckage that crushed into her chest and falling through a portal. Stephen Strange had rescued her from her tomb only to deliver her to the custody of The Raft, his parting words to her being: “In the grand calculus of the multiverse, Wanda, this is for your own good and that of the infinity you could destroy”

Wanda remembered the numb feeling within as she faced every degradation imaginable for her intake. How at first a guard sealed the heavy collar that still lay wrapped around her neck then she was ordered to undress before all that stood in the room as they watched. Piece by piece her armour came undone until the final article of clothing fell to the ground and, the formerly mighty, Scarlet Witch stood naked and cold before them. From there two or three of them (she didn’t have time to properly count) held her down against the table as a gloved hand ran across every part of her body, ripping through her knotted mass of auburn hair, down along her arms, and then the surge of pain as fingers were pushed deep up her butt and she was searched. Just as she remembered the feeling, she felt Jean play with her behind in real time and gasped.

When all was finally done, Wanda had asked her captors what her exact sentence was, only to be met with a sardonic reply. Even now, Wanda still agreed she rightfully had no chance of release. 

The Phoenix had now arched her back and stretched her legs along Wanda’s side to place herself in the position where she could suck on the witch’s left breast, areola caught precariously between her teeth as she flicked her tongue up against it. The Phoenix reached into the next memory now. It was one she always enjoyed. The memory of how they first met.

"I didn't think they were terrified enough of anybody to lock them up with me” Jean had said, reclining atop her bed as the cell door sealed behind Wanda, freshly brought in from her arrival. 

Wanda had glanced Jean over half-trying to understand why this other woman was such a threat. A look of confusion painted on her face, she asked: “Why would they be afraid of you?” 

"You didn't hear about what happened at Alcatraz?" Jean asked with pure bewilderment that someone wouldn’t know about her other-half’s rampage. 

Wanda only looked at her with more confusion. 

"Suffice to say, I came under a bad influence, that of a man called Magneto...and a lot of people died." 

Wanda remembered how it reminded her of herself, of her multiversal massacre. A deep feeling of regret entwined itself around her insides at the mere thought of how out of control her own actions had become. “How long have you been here?” She’d wanted to shift topics after that but Jean had pushed it with:

"You're deflecting from the interesting question. What did you do that makes them so scared of you that they threw you into the proverbial lion's den?"

Wanda bit her lip as she tried to think of a way to respond. Ultimately all she could say was: “I made mistakes and a lot of people died”

"We have that in common at least." Jean said. “Don't suppose you also have an evil alternate vesion of yourself bent on destroying the world, do you?" She followed, sarcastically.

“I don’t…but I was tempted by a spell book made by a god”

"Possessed by a malevolent force with ambitions beyond your ken...huh...It seems we have quite a bit in common. It’s probably why we’re sharing a cell”

Wanda awkwardly nodded. She didn’t want to engage with anyone currently but she wasn’t offered much chance to leave the conversation. 

“…so ever been in prison before?” Jean asked another question. Looking back at that moment, Wanda was unclear why Jean had asked so many questions. She could have just telepathically accessed all she needed to know. Maybe she had. 

“Yes but it was very different then…” Wanda had started

“…and you didn’t have a cellmate” Jean finished. "Well, prison can be a violent, predatory place. Lots of women, most of us with violent experiences, all of us under stress and unable to get away from each other...I'm sure you can guess where it leads. I’m offering to protect you, Wanda”

“I don’t think I need any protection.” Wanda said plainly

"I think you do" Jean said firmly. "Remember, you don't have your powers in here."

“I appreciate your help, but I don’t think I need or deserve any bit of comfort here. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. Every second of punishment that awaits me is something I’ve earned”

Jean's demeanour changed. Her shoulders went back, her movements became sharper and more deliberate, and her voice went down an octave. It was the first time Wanda had seen the Phoenix. "If it is torment you seek, I am the one to help with that. Most mommies offer protection. They guard their bitches as an asset, as property, and use that to buy their servitude. I intend to make you my property, Wanda. But if protection won't buy your loyalty, I'm happy to hurt you instead. In fact, I think I'm quite adept at it."

Wanda, broken by her experiences just hours prior, had accepted the deal.  

The Phoenix pulled her lips from their lock around Wanda’s nipple and smiled a devilish grin up at her little pet as she threw her hand back and began running her fingers along the witch’s womanhood herself. Her long fingers sloshed and slicked between Wanda’s lips with just a little too much force. Every pulse met at tips of The Phoenix’s fingers coincided perfectly with Wanda’s moans, and she already knew just the exact right spots to apply her sensual emphasis on. 

Despite all that the fiery alter-ego did, she found the most pleasure in that which happened within. Every little feeling of sorrow, humiliation, ecstasy, and euphoria that occurred within Wanda’s psyche made her orgasm several times over. She didn’t care what was happening to her bitch in revisiting the pain. Punishment is what she’d asked for. The twisted ecstasy of their breaths emanated from their cell for their neighbours and guards to hear, not that the Mutant Queen cared. 

Wanda’s heart beat faster and faster, breaths growing more and more ragged with every thrust. Her mind spun, flying ever closer to the perfect crescendo, then just at that last moment, teetering over the edge of deep chaotic euphoria, The Phoenix withdrew her hand from between Wanda’s thighs and released the grip of her other arm. 

“You don’t get to come today. I forbid it.” The Phoenix replied blankly. 

Frustrated, Wanda moved her hand down between her legs, defying Jean’s wish because she needed to finish. 

The Phoenix shot forward and grabbed Wanda’s wrists, pinning them against the bed behind them as she did before. 

“You will listen to me” the celestial being within the body of her girlfriend said grimly. 

Wanda shuffled her hips, looking for any type of friction to get herself off, but found nothing. She whined. “Please…” 

Jean’s face made an expression of mock pity. “Consider this your punishment for not doing as told sooner” she shrugged. “Maybe next time do what I say and I’ll let you get off”

Wanda shot her girlfriend a defiant look. “You can’t stop me forever.” Her obedience was completely out of the window now that she was so close to an orgasm, everything in her body screaming for her to finish.

“Can’t I?” The Phoenix smirked as her one hand let go and she clasped a pair of handcuffs, taken from the box, around Wanda’s wrists. She tied her to the bed, where it was impossible for Wanda to reach down. 

Wanda’s eyes opened with shock. “No, please.” She struggled against the restraints, but it was no use. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“See, I just don’t trust you. You’ll have plenty of chances to do better but tonight you shall stay here. Consider it a mercy of me having enjoyed our session that I don’t do far worse to you for talking back” The Phoenix simply said as she put her jumpsuit back on. She checked the clock, which announced that it was almost dinnertime. “Jean is going to get dinner. You’ll think about what you did and I’ll see you tonight. Maybe we’ll bring you back something to eat”

Before Wanda could say anything else, Jean was off and the cell door slammed shut behind her, leaving Wanda alone, wetness pooling between her legs, staining Jean’s blanket and her wrists struggling against the handcuffs. The painful memories were freshly carved into her brain and she suppressed a sob.

Chapter Text

(Disclaimer: the perspective and views of the characters do not reflect the authors. Any slurs or otherwise offensive material is only used fictionally and not meant to upset anyone)
The brush stroked elegantly along the surface, leaving a trail of blood red crimson across her mistresses’ nail. The brush swayed to the right and came down upon the next, repeating the process of drawing downwards in a slow motion, careful to not miss a spot. Then, with shaky hands, Hope van Dyne, once the size-changing heroine known as The Wasp, lowered the brush once more into the cheap bottle of polish until its bristles were painted in the sanguine shade and she could move on to the next finger. It had become a favoured task in comparison to what other things she was expected to do.

Hope could only reflect on just how much she regretted breaking the Accords as she did her mommy’s nails. She had thought she knew the consequences when she put on her suit and defied the law, but never in a thousand years did she imagine it would result in where she was now. A life of orange jumpsuits and shackles. A life in prison.

Covered in gaudy makeup that well exceeded the line of absurdity and skin adorned in all manner of tattoos that she hated to look at, Hope could hardly recognise herself anymore. Her arms ached from her hours long shifts in the mine, her over-eyeshadowed eyes were glazed over in an exhausted dreary from a severe lack of sufficient sleep, and her rear ached from the abuse it had suffered at the hands of those she belonged to. As the tattoo on her lower back signified, she was a prison bitch. The tattoos she’d been forced into getting weren’t just your usual prison tattoos either, but specifically things that represented her gang “affiliation”. The inked out tentacles of the skull of the Hydra wrapped themselves around her chest, while lower there was a big red swastika on her lower back, and the words “bitch” and “slave” were carved into her left and right arse cheeks.

Most women in The Raft who’d been unfortunate enough to be claimed could convince themselves that in serving their “mommy” they avoided a worse fate at the hands of a worse gang, but there was no worse fate than to fall into the hands of The Raft’s very own Neo-Nazi gang. HYDRA was sure to make Hope’s every waking moment a walking nightmare of abject cruelty. Unlike other incarcerated heroes like Natasha Romanoff or even Wanda Maximoff who’d helped place a substantial number of their gang in prison in the first place, Hope had never personally dealt with them. What they did to their enslaved hero was for no reason other than perverse entertainment.

“That’s enough, van Dyke”

Hope’s red-headed prison mommy commanded in a mix of a German and American accent, gleefully putting emphasis on the uncreative nickname she’d given her. Although she looked no older than twenty-six, she was none other than Sinthea “Sin” Schmidt, “daughter” of the Red Skull and rightful leader of HYDRA.

Sin raised her hand up to admire Hope’s work. Her nails looked as if they’d been dipped in gore — a look which she sought. “These are good enough. You can rest…for now” she smirked.

Hope didn’t need any other prompting to scramble to her “bed” (a spot on the dirty floor with a blanket and a pillow) and try to catch any rest that she could. Usually her day consisted of nonstop work until lights out where she might be able to catch a few hours of sleep. Any break where she could get the smallest fragment of extra sleep was a welcome one.

The cell door opened. “Look at the bitch, she must be so tired from doing your nails. Life is just so hard for her” a voice with a Hungarian crispness that belonged to Ophelia Sarkissian laughed as she entered. Ophelia, better known by the name “Viper”, was a high ranking terrorist loyal to HYDRA. She was Sin’s right-hand-woman, a person so vile that she could only naturally fit as her partner in crime. That’s why she was just now returning from confirming the validity of a rumour Sin was more than invested in.

Sin chuckled though didn’t linger on the topic. Far more pressing things were on her mind today than taunting her toy. “So is it true that Carol Danvers is down an eye?”

“Yes, ma’am. Saw Carol myself and she looks a fucking mess. Someone took it right out” Viper reported dutifully.

“Pity it wasn’t us who did it. Such a waste of good Aryan genes” Sin said, reaching the absolute zenith of any possible empathy the Nazi leader could possibly ever muster. She had a rather bizarre hatred of Captain Marvel due to an expectation that because she was white, blonde, and blue-eyed that she deep down would ally with their disgusting cause.

Viper took a seat on the singular metal chair that sat in their cell and unzipped her jumpsuit. She then reached her hand down and pulled a shiv from her underwear and she quietly began sharpening it against the edge of the sink.

“Any news on who did it to her?” Sin asked eagerly.

“The rumours are that it was the Sisterhood or Queenpins, but they’re just that: rumours.”

Sin blew on her fingertips in an attempt to get them to dry faster. “The Queenpins? Really? Even a kike like Vanessa Fisk isn’t stupid enough to make a move on Captain Marvel.”

Viper nodded but didn’t look up from the plastic tip of her blade as it slowly grew more and more jagged. “Which, if the rumours are true, leaves the muties”

“Now that I could see. Carol did punch Jean’s slav bitch yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to get back at them. Jean’s a psycho” Sin either lacked self-awareness, or she was so self-aware that she could spot psychopathy in others.

“Could it have been the slav bitch who did it? Everyone knows Wanda is almost as unstable as her mistress” Viper asked.

As the conversation continued, Hope had fallen fast asleep in her corner. The ridiculously hate filled discourse kept her up when she first arrived, but she’d gained the ability to just tune it out by now. It was disturbing just how used to hearing it all she was.

Sin grew tenser as the conversation seemed to turn more and more to Wanda. Did she bring it up? Yes. Regardless, much like her feelings towards Carol Danvers, she had a zealous fury for Wanda Maximoff because she saw her as a traitor. In this case though it was a far more direct form of treason. Wanda had once been a member of Hydra and yet she dared to turn her back on them and join the Avengers.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but for once I can say the mutant biological tendency towards violence works out for us. With Carol out, there’s a power vacuum. If you make God bleed, people cease believing in Him. What happens to the ‘mighty’ Captain Marvel when you show everyone she can be beaten out of an eye?”

“They catch her in the shower and she ends up at the end of a dozen shivs. Blood is in the water and now the sharks come to feast.” Viper replied, waving her weapon for emphasis.

“With Carol dead, dear old Natasha loses a valuable ally. Sure she still has Loki the tranny queen of the Asgardians and the blacks in the Panthers for now, but they’re all on the verge of war. Whether it was the Queenpins, the Sisterhood, The Ten Rings, or the fucking Daughters of Hel who attacked Carol it doesn’t matter”

“So we let them tear each other apart?” Viper asked.

“Yes and then I will rise again as queen of The Raft” Sin proclaimed. She had five-hundred life sentences; she could afford to be patient.

There was a knock at the bars and Viper stood to respond. Beyond the bars stood a badly bruised looking Karli Morganthau, accompanied by a fit but petite woman with white and pink hair and a much larger butch looking convict. The former was Songbird, a villain with the ability to create supersonic sounds, and the latter was Angel Dust, a legally distinct mutate (not to be confused with filthy mutant kin) who fell down the far-right rabbit hole and ended up an enforcer for Hydra.

“Finally! What the fuck took them so long?!” Sin exclaimed. “Let them in” she’d been waiting quite awhile for this.

Viper did as told and opened the unlocked door. The three visitors entered, Karli looked absolutely terrified as the butch woman shoved her along. She already knew what this was regarding, she’d known there would be repercussions ever since she lost the fight with Jessica Jones in the showers. She’d tried to make it straight back to her cell after work, but she was grabbed and dragged away almost immediately.

Sin wolfishly smiled at Karli. “So want to explain what happened in the showers”

Karli stammered before firing off at the mouth: “It’s not my fault! She was so much stronger than she looked! I-I didn’t know! You have to believe me! I-I’m not weak!”

Sin only laughed. “Aww could the poor wittle super-soldier not beat up an emaciated goth girl?”

Karli gulped. “B-But she had powers! She caught me by surprise-“

“Sure that’s why!” Viper interjected, joining in the mockery of her. She hated seeing such weak women.

“You were supposed to be the one to claim our pick of slave from the new fish, but you couldn’t even do that. Oh Karli, what am I going to do with you?” A chill ran down Karli’s spine as Sin pondered aloud. “I could claim you here and now in her stead…but I’m in a good mood today. I’m not going to punish you”
Karli exhaled in relief and quickly reached to express her intense gratitude…only for Sin to add:
“I’m not going to punish you, but I can’t just let this go undelt with. I’m demoting you”

HYDRA was the only straight gang in all of The Raft…which meant they were the one with the most inherently built-in system of lesbian domination but claimed it didn’t count. Every rank in the gang’s hierarchy was subservient to the ones above them, only able to prove their loyalty through hazing acts that definitely weren’t sexual at all. Karli was already on one of the lowest ranks possible and this incident would only make things worse for her. The ritual for the beginning of any member was pleasuring the girls above her (literally). A ritual Karli would have to repeat.

Karli yelled in protest as Angel Dust came up behind her and wrapped her muscular arm around her, slipping her hand towards the zipper and bringing it down with a violent tug. The orange cloth opened wide so that Karli was giving Sin a good look at her tattooed body. All the inked up skulls and swastikas in the world wouldn’t have been enough to help her get out of this.

Hope was naturally stirred by the struggle and wished to stay out of things as Karli was stripped naked and forced into a more suitable position. ‘Better her than me’ she guiltlessly thought to herself, having been in Karli’s position several times before but also nowhere near as deserving of it.

Karli’s eyes went wide in abject terror, fixed on Sin’s wet and messy brunette bush that betrayed the authenticity of her red hair, as she stepped forwards and straddled her freckled face. The long untamed hair felt repulsively thick and moist in her mouth but she obeyed in lapping away, fearing what might happen if she didn’t do as told. The feeling made her want to gag, but she didn’t have to focus on it for long as Viper’s bare sweaty body wrapped against her like some awful constricting serpent. It made Karli writhe in discomfort as she felt Viper’s breasts heaving steadily up and down against her back, hardened nipples practically ready to cut through skin.

Hope yawned and emotionlessly laid back down as Songbird came up besides Karli and planted a kiss on her cheek only to then trace her way down her face with her tongue. Songbird’s breath was hot and reeked of cigarettes.

Karli began to tear up, but they were lost in Sin’s overwhelming ecstatic release onto her face, wetness dripping from her sex down Karli’s lips. Songbird had taken to caressing Karli’s curly red hair in one hand while the other was buried between her own thighs, working vigorously to replicate the orgasm Sin had just had.

Viper’s tattooed arms nestled beneath Karli’s unshaven armpit and she found her hands drawn to her perky chest. Karli let out a little yelp as her nipples were pinched but that, much like her stream of tears, was lost in a cacophony of moans.

Angel Dust had stood back watching far too long. She needed to join in on this too. Bringing her massive fist against the pucker of Karli’s bum, she pushed two fingers up behind her. It hurt more than Karli had remembered it had when she first joined HYDRA. Her whole body shook as Angel Dust pushed deeper and deeper, all while taunting her. It was at this moment that Karli regretted having become a terrorist. But the remorse wouldn’t last. She really only regretted getting caught.

Hope would almost have felt bad for Karli as she watched, but then she remembered that Karli had enjoyed benefiting from this exact same “hazing ritual” numerous times before. Karli only hated it now because she was the one on the receiving end of things. Hope found it funny how as all of this was happening not a single one of them would have deemed this gay. The women of HYDRA hated “dykes” and so naturally they could never do anything close to that. There was nothing sapphic about having an all-female orgy apparently.

What surely must have been an hour passed before things finally settled and the room of awful women (and Hope) settled down in an afterglow stupor. Sin was laying back on her bed, Viper was smoking while back in her seat, Angel Dust was using Hope as a pillow, and Songbird reclined against the bars with Karli sitting traumatised in a corner.

Sin laid eyes on Karli once again and decreed:

“Anyone who gets me the girl Karli couldn’t defeat in the showers will be rewarded”
It seemed that Jessica Jones would get what was coming for her sooner or later.

—————————————————————

Jessica’s vibranium shackles cut into her ankles as she miserably staggered along the line of weary inmates being escorted out of the mines. The work would have been too much even with her powers, but without them she wanted to lie down right where she stood and die. She couldn’t imagine doing that same job every day for the rest of her days. Her arms ached like never before and already she internally debated the merits of another shower (if she was allowed to choose of course).

A long walk later, the prisoners were guided back to the main section of The Raft where Jessica was surprised to hear they now could walk about the inmate-designated zones freely. Honestly she just wanted to go back to her cell and go to sleep, or preferably have a drink (but that wasn't really an option). The only issue was that her adopted sister would probably be there as well and that wasn’t an uncomfortable dynamic she had enough energy to face at the moment. After weighing the situation carefully, Jessica resolved to go the yard and try and find a quiet corner where she didn’t have to engage in socialising with anyone.

The yard was annoyingly filled with what felt like half the prison population with no more than a few benches to sit at and guards patrolling above keenly watching everyone at all times. Jessica sighed as she looked at her limited number of options of places to rest. Everyone was either sitting at the benches talking, stretching, playing games, or doing things that probably would have been best to do in private. She shook her head in annoyance and just walked over to the right corner of the yard and sat down on the ground, tilting her head back against the steel wall and closing her eyes.

In her silence the weight of her situation bore down on her thoughts. In just the last few days she’d been arrested, sentenced to an indefinite stay in a prison for the most dangerous enhanced individuals, been groped by a guard, reunited with her sister who probably hated her (Jessica couldn't help but feel quite the same way about herself in all fairness), been groped again but in the showers, and then she’d been forced to mine vibranium.

The sound of footsteps approaching and then someone sliding down to sit beside her took Jessica out of her thoughts. Her eyes blinked open and she looked right into Trish’s face.
“Fuck my life” Jessica cursed to herself. Was part of her sentence the inability to have a single moment to herself?

“I think you already did that yourself. And mine, for that matter.” Trish mumbled, a smirk playing at her lips. Her eyes were red and she appeared calmer than yesterday. Jessica could immediately tell that her sister was high as fuck.

Jessica looked at her flatly and asked in an annoyed tone: “Did you just come by to guilt me again? What do you want?”

A very brief look of hurt flashed over Trish’s face, quickly replaced by the same indifference as before. “I don’t know. Just…wanted to sit here.”

“Ok..” Jessica relented out of an unwillingness to engage with anyone. There was an uncomfortable silence hanging over both of them until Jessica abruptly asked in a disappointed tone: “So you’re dealing drugs?”

Trish snorted. “No, I’m a model citizen. I only hand out candy.”

Jessica was mildly amused by her sister’s wit, not that she showed it though. As a certified depressive alcoholic with anger issues, she didn’t really judge people over most things. She was just disappointed to hear Trish was involved in that sort of thing now and the knowledge that it was her own fault weighed on her.

“I don’t need you to judge me.” Trish spat as Jessica didn’t respond.

“I’m not. I just hoped things were going better for you in here” Jessica corrected.

Trish rolled her eyes. “What did you expect? For me to have a desk job and a loving husband and some kids?”

“I don’t know what I expected…just not that” Jessica sighed. “You’re high right now, right?”

Trish blew a puff of air out from between her lips in a wicked grin. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I was…I just noticed is all” Jessica lied. Switching the topics just slightly, “You’d think a super-prison would have tighter control over drug flow”

“Have you ever watched a TV show?” Trish asked. “It’s worse.”

“I've seen three drug trades today, two happening in this yard, and I was assaulted in the showers. I’m starting to think the budget wasn’t spent on good security” Jessica dryly quipped. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask for more details on Trish’s new job and how it worked but ventured a question before she could think it out. “So are guards ever an issue for your…operation?”

“The guards are my biggest customers. It’s the only thing to help them deal with this shit job.” Trish shrugged. “I don’t think anyone cares what happens to us in here if it affects them positively.”

“I’m shocked” Jessica said sarcastically. “Look, if you’re going to sit here you don’t happen to have anything I could drink, do you?” she asked only half-jokingly. She was already struggling without something to dull her emotions and the idea that her sister could have something for her was making her hopeful.

A dark expression replaced Trish’s neutral one. “Already giving in?” She scratched the side of her face and then dug into the front of her jumpsuit. A small bottle of vodka, one people would take on planes, appeared in her hand. It was incredibly valuable in a place where the best alternative was called “toilet wine”. Before Jessica could grab it, Trish pulled back, smiling. “It’s not free.”

Jessica’s stare was more than enough to convey the irritation bubbling inside. “Of course not” she replied. “What do you want?” she asked hurriedly.

“A favour.” Trish replied vaguely. “When I need it.”

Jessica hesitated. “What kind of favour?”

“You’ll find out when you find out.” Trish smirked. She loved having some semblance of control over her sister, something she felt like had never had.

Jessica, for her part, had always felt the exact opposite. Being adopted, it was always clear who held the power in their dynamic. Knowing she’d regret her decision soon enough, Jessica complied to her urges with a bitter “Fine”

Trish handed the small bottle of alcohol to Jessica and got up. Jessica soon had the feeling that this was what Trish had come for in the first place, but she quickly downed the bottle and forgot all about that feeling, along with all of the other feelings she had about her new environment.

—————————————————————

When all the activities of the day had ended, it was time for everyone to return to their cells at last. Kate had worked hard in the mines, trying her best to stay out of everyone’s way. She was exhausted from the lack of sleep, and the worst part was that tonight she would again be sharing her cell with Death herself. Kate’s whole body shook as she entered the hallway to her cell, feeling certain within she wouldn’t last another night.

Kate kept her head down as she neared the cell, terrified to look up at her cellmate wrong and risking being stabbed. Fearfully, she gripped the unlocked bars of the cell door and swung it open before anxiously stepping inside. The air itself seemed to run cold before the Goddess of Death.

“So you’re finally back. I almost was worried you’d killed yourself to avoid coming back to me” Hela remarked, making Kate jump. The Archer hastily looked up, accidentally breaking her own resolve to not look, and found that Hela sat naked atop the bed, posed with the regality expected from a Norse Goddess. Her long oily black hair cascaded down her body, just barely covering her chest.

Kate wanted to immediately turn around and run out of the cell, but the door had been shut tightly behind her. “O-Oh.” She softly exclaimed.

“What?” Hela asked nonchalantly, flipping her long dark hair back to expose her body in full. She knew what made Kate so uncomfortable, but she wanted the mortal to say it.

“Why are you naked?” Kate stuttered. Why did she always end up in these kinds of situations?

“Because you have a task to fulfil, thrall. Did you think I would allow you to share a cell with me without some form of repayment?”

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t like your property.” Kate countered. “I have the same rights as you.”

“Do you now?” Hela threateningly asked. “You belong to me and will do whatever I desire, unless you’d prefer to end your sentence early…”

Kate raised her eyebrow. “Okay, but I’m not like a couch that belongs to you. I’m a person.” She was not even that scared anymore, with the lady sitting literally naked in front of her. She calmed herself by foolishly believing that If she moved fast enough she could win in a fight against a literal goddess.

Hela’s brilliantly green eyes stared Kate down, the goddess was both amused by the gall to defy her and ready to kill her. She rose to her feet and reached for the girl’s throat.

Kate yelped and tried to fight Hela off, but realised she was naked and really didn’t want to touch her there. She flailed her arms in the air as Hela’s grip closed on her windpipe.

Hela cooed as she pressed her bare body up close against Kate, tilting her victim’s head back until it rested hard against the bars. Her mad eyes met with Kate’s, revealing nothing but malice within. “What was that about not belonging to me?”

Kate let out a choked breath, her hands now fully pushing against Hela’s naked chest and shoulders.

Hela seemed to find the sensation exhilarating as she drew in a slow breath. “I could kill you now…” Her grip around her throat only seemed to tighten the more Kate struggled. Kate dug her nails into Hela’s skin, clawing at her helplessly.
“...But I find you adorable so I’ll spare your defiance and give you a second chance. Consider this an act of my mercy” Hela grinned as she released her hold of Kate.

Kate fell to the ground and breathed in, wheezing and coughing.

Hela returned to the bed, sitting with her legs spread wide. “Now then, undress and then kneel before your Queen”

Kate’s eyes bulged as she was still catching her breath. Her hands were shaking. “No.” She whispered.

“Did we not just address what happens to you if you don’t? You really do prove how stupid Midgardians are” Hela sighed. “Let me make this clear, you do as I say or I thrash your head against the bars until you come out the other side. You will obey me”

Kate swallowed heavily despite how much it hurt. She didn’t want to do this, but she also didn’t plan on dying today. Her hands carefully started unzipping the jumpsuit she was wearing, her eyes never leaving Hela’s. She stopped when she heard footsteps.

Officer Weaver approached from down the hall, her dark brown hair was wildly unkempt and her guard uniform evidently was put on quite hastily. Someone had given her quite a good time.
As Kate’s hands hovered in the air, close to the zipper of her clothes, the cell door opened behind her. “Hate to break up whatever is happening here, but looks like you were assigned the wrong cell, inmate. Come on”

Kate and Hela both froze, looking like two spooked birds. “What?” They asked in unison, Kate fearfully and Hela in a wrath.

“Well are you coming, or do you like being locked up with her?” Weaver teased, flippantly pointing at the rapidly infuriated, and still naked Hela.

“Uhm, I’m coming!” Kate said hastily, gathering her small amount of possessions and hurriedly following the guard. Weaver slammed the cell door shut and locked it just before Hela thrust her bare body against the bars and said bitterly, “Don’t think this will absolve you of your oath to me! You will be mine” as Kate was led away. Kate waved goodbye at her shakily as they turned the corner.

Kate was led out of the cellblock entirely and taken to an adjoining one, although not that much differentiated it. All the cellblocks looked like uncomfortably long hallways lined with cells. This time Kate would be going up stairs to reach her cell, which would hopefully have someone less…violent.

The guard opened the door and waved Kate inside, before locking it behind her.

Kate was greeted with what seemed like a bigger room than she expected, almost bigger than her bedroom back home. Was it actually bigger than Hela’s? No, but this space seemed far less confining. At a quick glance, there was some rather random furnishing scattered about. Books, cigarettes, posters. In comparison to Hela’s drab mausoleum, Kate briefly wondered if the guard had accidentally taken her into the staff room, but the room still looked unfortunate enough for that not to be the case. Kate’s eyes zeroed in on her cellmate, feeling nervous for only a heartbeat before her eyes met Yelena’s familiar green ones.

“Hi” Yelena said, looking nervous for some reason. She motioned to the room, feeling embarrassed about the mess. “Sorry it’s not as clean, we had to arrange this quickly so I didn’t have much time to-”

Her blubbering apology was interrupted as Kate launched herself at Yelena, wrapping her arms around the assassin and sobbing into her shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asked instead, awkwardly rubbing Kate’s back. She felt a flutter inside her stomach, knowing that Kate was okay and not mad at her and actually felt safe enough with her to seek comfort with her.
Kate sniffled loudly and seemed to suddenly realise their closeness, breaking away from the hug and rubbing her nose awkwardly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Yelena’s eyebrows rose and she let out a chuckle. “Okay, sure. Do you want some tea? Please sit down. The top bunk’s mine, so you can have the bottom one.”

Kate looked at the bed and noticed that the usual bedding that all the prison beds had was covered up with a knitted blanket, one that looked clearly self-made and used which meant that Yelena had given the blanket to her to use instead of using it for her own bed. The gesture made her want to cry again so she nodded and sat down, taking the blanket over her knees.

“Tea” (a tea bag put into a room temperature styrofoam cup of water) was quickly served to both of them and Yelena stood looking down at Kate, who still looked upset and kind of small under the blanket that Natasha had knitted for her months ago. “Will you tell me what happened?” She said somewhat impatiently to her new roommate.

“The same things again, I guess.” Kate said, vaguely. She did not want to discuss what she had almost done with Hela. She had no experience with anything like this, in fact, no experience at all, so that being her first possible sexual experience had made her extremely uncomfortable.
“Okay. Did she hurt you?” Yelena said, wanting to make sure that killing a god was not on her to-do list for tomorrow.

“She tried to choke me.” Kate whispered. “And…other things.” Her eyes diverted.

“We can have you visit the nurse tomorrow, if you want.” Now that Kate had mentioned it, her throat did look rather red and swollen.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll live.” Kate played with the cup in her hands awkwardly.

Yelena felt the same awkwardness and bit her lip. “I hope the bed is comfortable enough for you.”

Kate’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Of course. I mean, I’m so confused! What a coincidence that we got roomed together. They told me the first was a mistake.”

Yelena awkwardly rubbed her neck.”I mean…it wasn’t really a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?”

The assassin sighed and sat down on a chair, crossing her legs. “Well, I saw you struggling and didn’t think you would make the night. So I pulled some strings and had you transferred here. I think I’m a lot less likely to kill you in your sleep.” Knowing their history, Yelena hoped Kate knew she was joking.

“But…why would you do that?” Kate blinked. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
Yelena let out a sigh and smiled. “Well, I guess you could call it a favour. I felt like I owed you one.” It wasn’t completely untrue.

Kate took a minute to let the truth settle in and sipped her tea. “I didn’t know you had that kind of power here.”

“Well, not necessarily me, but my sister does. She arranged this for you.” Yelena admitted.
“Something I’m sure we will need to work for when the time comes. But she is fair. Not like the others here.”

Kate blinked. Natasha Romanoff had saved her life? “Tell her thanks for me.”

“You can tell her yourself, tomorrow.” Yelena smiled at the thought of her sister interacting with Kate again. “For now, you need to rest. I will stay awake for a couple of hours to make sure no one hurts us or comes in, okay? You’re safe.”

Kate nodded tearily and finished her tea. She had no idea how to thank Yelena or Natasha, but she would try very hard to repay the debt. She shuffled underneath both blankets, feeling so much more comfortable than before, and quickly fell asleep, without even saying goodnight.

Yelena sat in the chair opposite Kate’s bed for hours, looking at the sleeping girl's features and feeling an immense sense of relief that she was safe.

Chapter Text

Titania had never worked a proper job in her life, at least not one that required any physical work. Sure there had been her modeling for her own line of beauty products, but that was a far cry from having to take a tool in hand and physically exert herself in any capacity.Truthfully, that kind of task was beneath her. It was for the little people. Although she wouldn’t have worded it that way in fear of being cancelled, she certainly believed it deep down. So when the guards shackled her, led her down a deep dark tunnel of the mine, and gave her a pickaxe she was absolutely repulsed. She quickly had given them a piece of her mind on the matter…which was met with a very hard hit to the rear using a baton. The first of many physical disciplines she’d receive for her own uncontrollably entitled behavior. 

With work now complete, Titania found herself aghast at her current state. Her jumpsuit was covered in grime and sweat, her arms ached, and (worst of all) her long flowing hair barely cascaded down her shoulders. This was a complete nightmare! She could hardly stand to be seen in her current state, even if the only ones who’d see her were fellow prisoners. When she learned it was now free time, she jumped at the opportunity to go to her cell for the first time. She couldn’t believe how that seemed far better than any alternative.

Titania staggered through the doorway of her cell, annoyed at how little privacy the bars allotted. She still was waiting for approval on her request to speak with the warden. Although she was ready to faint (she wasn’t actually, but she never passed up an opportunity to be a drama queen) she took pause when she noticed there was someone else in her cell. The face of who it was hadn’t even registered before she turned to the nearest guard and complained: “Really, you expect me to share this room with…” and then that’s when it clicked. She turned to get a second glance. She was bunked with world famous mutant pop-star, Dazzler (who looked suspiciously like Taylor Swift).

A slow rising cloud of smoke filled their small enclosed space, sourced from Dazzler’s mouth. She held a cigarette shaped object in her hand delicately, but the amount of smoke and the smell immediately betrayed that this was not a normal cigarette.

“Oh. My. God.” Titania was far too starstruck to properly notice. “You’re Dazzler!” she exclaimed excitedly. Her adoration was surprising considering she’d partaken in publicly gossiping about Dazzler more than once. 

“A fan? Surprising.” Dazzler said, not sounding surprised at all. “You’re my new roomie?” She offered Titania the joint. “Come sit.”

Titania did as told without objection for the first time since arriving at The Raft. “I’m in prison smoking a joint with my cellmate Dazzler” she spelled out her situation in a state of pure shock at the absurdity. How was she this lucky? #Blessed. 

“What’s your name?” Dazzler asked. Her voice was somewhat sing-songy and to Titania’s surprise their cell briefly flickered with small lights, like fireflies had appeared for only a brief moment. 

Titania was primarily taken aback  in amazement, but that fell to second place to offence when asked who she was. “You don’t know who I am?” She asked in a clearly insulted tone, distraught to hear the only other real celebrity in her new home didn’t know her name. It didn’t matter that Titania wasn’t quite as famous as she believed. 

“It must have slipped my mind.” Dazzler simply stated. Her eyes were glazy and she let out a soft giggle. “Sorry.” 

Titania would have stressed this topic infinitum if her cellmate was literally anyone else, but with Dazzler she was ok with dropping the topic and taking a drag out of the joint. “Mary MacPharren, but you can call me Titania” she introduced herself. 

“Cool name.” The other simply nodded. “My name’s Alison.” She took a deep breath, which made small lights reappear. She seemed to be enamoured by them herself, taking a moment and smiled. 

“Not me being on a first name basis with my BFF Alison!” Titania’s enthusiasm about someone that wasn’t herself was bordering uncharacteristic. Her eyes watched as the lights around them flickered and danced in the enclosed space, swirling in ethereal motions that were almost breathtaking. 

“What are you in for?” Alison/Dazzler asked vaguely, taking back the blunt from her new cellmate and taking a long drag.

“I threw a desk at the jury, but like it TOTALLY wasn’t my fault. I was like framed” Titania replied while staring far too intently at Alison. 

Dazzler’s face turned philosophical. “What did the jury do for you to have to throw a desk? That’s a little bit of an overreaction don’t you think?”

“Well they said my beauty products were using some super toxic ingredients, which just so isn’t true!” Titania had no idea just how absurd her over-reaction was. 

“Alright, calm down.” Dazzler whispered, already annoyed with Titania’s dramatics. “Let’s take a breath.”

“Yes you’re totally right. I’ll take a breath” Titania nodded while doing as instructed. Now would have been a natural place to ask what Dazzler was in for in return, but Titania couldn’t talk about anyone that wasn’t herself. Besides, everyone knew about Dazzler’s arrest. The concert incident that left thirty dead was more than highly publicised.  

“Crazy place, this is.” Dazzler said after a while. “I wish we could just…leave. I miss the fresh air.” 

“Yeah but like you have a life sentence for killing all those people” Titania’s attempt at helping no doubt was useless. 

“What if I die in this life and then use another life to live. Like a cat. That would mean my life sentence is over, right?” Dazzler countered, speaking as if she was making perfect sense. 

Titania looked puzzled by Dazzler’s weed-induced poetic musings, but nodded along as if it were the wisest words she’d ever heard. “Wait yeah that totally makes sense! Like that should count”

“Maybe killing someone else will give me an extra life. And then I have finished my life sentence.” Dazzler mused, leaning back against the wall and her legs dangling over the side of the bed. 

“It’s not like they can sentence you to life twice” Titania shrugged, not actually knowing the answer. “They can’t do that, can they?”

Suddenly changing the subject, Dazzler puffed out a smoke cloud. “Have you ever played Monopoly? I really want to play Monopoly right now.”

Titania hated all board games. Anything that wasn’t digital was nerd shit, but she wasn’t going to tell Dazzler that. “I like LOVE that game! Yes I 100% wanna play with you, queen” It was only after she finished speaking that she realised it was going to be difficult to explain how she didn’t know how to play Monopoly. 

Dazzler scoffed. “Damn guards won’t replace the game. Someone broke it and they threw it away. “ She looked genuinely upset, as if she had lost something really important to her. It was also noticeable now that she had a slight southern accent, something barely anyone knew.

Titania exhaled in relief. “Oh thank God- I mean that really sucks” she corrected herself. 

“Will you please convince the guards to get a new game?” Dazzler asked, not realising Titania was not only new but had already pissed off about everyone in the prison on her first day. “I’m sure you are very influential.”

“Sure. I can do that” Titania said without pause, rising and relaxing the bars of the cell so she could speak with the first passing guard. The guard hadn’t quite even reached the door of their cell when Titania snobbily requested: “Hey guard, yeah me and my friend want a board game. I’d be really grateful if you could go and get us one. Thanks”

The guard laughed. “Yeah I’m not getting you anything, bitch. Now step away from the bars before I cuff you to ‘em”

Titania scoffed. “How dare you?! I-” she expected a verbal dance back and forth with the guard so she was taken aback when they just grabbed her hand and did exactly as warned: cuffed her in place and then walked off. “You can’t be serious!” she yelled, turning back to repeat it to Dazzler too. She was extremely lucky that she was in a cell with Dazzler and not someone who would take advantage of her newfound vulnerable position. 

Dazzler sat watching from the bed, the joint still burning in her hand and slowly filling the room with smoke. “So I guess no board games?” She giggled at the sight of Titania cuffed to the bars.

The bars felt cold as Titania rested her head against them in annoyance. “No, she wouldn’t get us the board game” she said irritably. “This is your fault! Why am I being punished?”

“I didn’t even move from this bed, how can it be my fault?”

“You’re the one who told me to ask a guard!”

Dazzler’s giggle filled the room and echoed off the walls.

Chapter Text

Cassandra “Cassie” Webb, aka Madame Web, looked down in horror at the scene below the factory roof she was supervising from. What was supposed to be the grand debut of the Spiderwomen (Or the Spider-Girls. Or the Arachnachicks, they never agreed on a name) as New-York's latest superhero team, by catching a manager at the local Pepsi cannery in the act of wage-theft from his employees (Not the most glamorous of crimes, but she was limited to what her psychic powers randomly detected), had turned into a complete disaster when her three teammates went to confront the guy, somehow resulting in an explosion inside the factory, and a neon sign falling off the roof. With an awful groan of the metal it had come crashing down and it landed on top of a man out for a morning stroll.

"Oh shit...oh shit…oh shit” was all Cassie could say as she stared at the rubble that was left of the sign. The man was beneath it all…somewhere. Her three fellow amateur heroes joined her, looking as freaked out as her. There was a solemn pause of pure silence atop the rooftop as the heroes stared in disbelief.

The sight of three women in what looked like mediocre knock-off Spider-Man costumes and then Cassie, dressed in what can only be described as a silver see-through web-patterned dress with nude coloured undergarments underneath that honestly made it look like she was naked, was bizarre.

Julia Carpenter, aka Spider-Woman, was the first to break the silence as she asked aloud in shock: “What do we do?!”

“Run?" Maggie Franklin, aka Spider-Girl, suggested. "I say run."

Anya Corazón, aka Araña, slowly turned to Maggie as she tried to process what had happened. Words coming out before her brain could catch up, she suggested: “Run? But maybe he’s still alive…”

Unfortunately, as if the Universe itself needed to prove her wrong, the lights of the massive Pepsi sign began to flicker and jolt and then burst in little fireworks before falling dark. Turns out the exposed wires made contact with the recently wet ground and if the sign somehow hadn’t done the man in, he was definitely electrocuted to death now.

Cassie paused for a moment, looking off at who knows where, as she had a close-up vision of the man's electrification seconds before it happened.

"Uh...okay...we probably should go..." she said, finding it difficult to be decisive under pressure.

“Where do we go?!” Julia asked in a panic. The longer they stood

on the roof the more witnesses noticed the very obvious brightly coloured superheroes standing at the scene of the crime.

"Away from here!" Mattie insisted. "Julia, carry Cassie..." she completely forget to use codenames in the fray.

Anya snapped out of her terror long enough to begin to formulate a plan. “Ok we just need to find somewhere to lie low for a bit. We can do that…” she didn’t sound sure in her assurances. “…We just swing back to the apartment and return to our normal lives and never put these costumes on again…No one will know it was us”

Mattie ran to the roof’s edge to try and swing away from the crime-scene. Throwing her hand out with a *thwip*, a singular weak strand of webbing shot out and immediately snapped before a liquified sticky web-fluid, which should have bonded into a strong cord, slowly started fizzling out. Anya’s concoction didn’t seem to work quite as well as a certain more famous spider themed New York hero’s.

Mattie looked down at her fizzled webshooters, and threw an accusatory look at Anya. "I guess we crawl down the walls?" She suggested and promptly began doing just that, making painfully slow progress as she left her three allies.

"What about me?!" Cassie asked, increasingly terrified by the entirely foreseeable consequences of amateur vigilantism.

Julia attempted to shoot out a web but it worked out as well as it did for Mattie. “Well uh…” she paused to frantically look for a possible way off the roof. “…We can take the stairs!”

"Okay...Okay..." Cassie said, breathing heavily and rushing for the fire escape as fast as her ridiculous heels would allow, making loud clacking noises with each hurried step.

“Cassie, hurry up!” Julia whined at her painfully slow companion.

“I know…I’m trying!” Cassie took another step before sighing and stopping where she stood. She bent over and began trying to take off her shoes for the sake of speed.

“We *really* need to hurry” Anya peered down to see a cop car already outside the building. She assumed it had just arrived but then no one seemed to get out of the vehicle.

Cassie’s shoes finally came undone and she raised them in her hands just in time for a woman’s voice to yell “NYPD, STOP WHERE YOU ARE!!! Hands where I can see them! All of you!

A lone officer emerged up the fire escape. It turns out the four women had wasted a long time debating what to do and the cop car had already been there awhile by the time Anya noticed.

Anya immediately shouted: “We didn’t do it!” as she raised her hands in the air at the same time as Julia.

Cassie was still bent over looking at her feet in somewhat sweet relief at the heels being off when the officer startled her back to attention as she ordered “Drop the high heels!”

Cassie immediately retorted: “But they’re expensive!”

Entirely unwilling to play around with three potentially dangerous super-humans, the officer replied “Drop the shoes before I’m forced to tase you

"Ugh...damn it." Was all Cassie could say as she crouched down to put the shoes down.

The officer nodded and then spoke into her radio: “Found them. Two women in knockoff Spider-Man costumes and one wearing a see-through web dress” before talking to the criminals again “You two, stand next to your friend and then turn around and put your hands behind your back”

Julia and Cassie complied, stepping besides Anya and assuming the position. As cold metal cuffs clicked around her wrists, Julia asked Cassie: “Your visions didn’t tell you about us getting arrested?”

"It doesn't work like that." Cassie gave her usual disclaimer.

Meanwhile, Mattie was half way down the wall, continuing to crawl down, absurdly hoping she hadn’t yet been noticed. But of course, Mattie has been noticed by basically everyone because a woman in a bright superhero outfit climbing down the side of a building in the middle of New York City kinda draws just a little bit of attention. It wasn’t until she reached the bottom and was standing on the sidewalk that she finally noticed the cop impatiently waiting. Deciding to try and bluff it, Mattie did her best to try and sound innocent as she asked: “Is there a problem, officer?"

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the massive sign that fell over? Hands where I can see them, now!” The officer said unamused.

Mattie raised her hands in surrender. "I'd like a lawyer, please."

The cop pinned her against the wall and handcuffed her hands behind her back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

Mattie was led back over to the car where she was leaned over the hood and forced to wait.

The flash of cameras all around from the assembled crowd stunned her, the voices of livestreams a mass blur of sound.

“Great..." Mattie muttered, looking down. “This is going to be all over TikTok, and we're going to be a joke.”

Luckily for Mattie, the attention turned away from her as Cassie, Anya, and Julia were led out of the building. The paparazzi seemed to especially take notice of Cassie. There was a mixture of surprise, excitement, and genuine bewilderment at the practicality of her superhero “costume”.

Overhearing the crowd's reaction to her dress, Cassie decided she needed to say something. "I-it's symbolic..." she tried to explain. "It's see through because...my power is...it's like time, it's see-through because..." she explained it very poorly I should add.

"Um...could you at least pick up my shoes? They're really expensive and I don't technically own them yet..."Mattie heard Cassie plead as she was leaned besides her against the car. Her arresting officer didn’t care to respond to the request.

“I can’t believe we’re going to jail…” was all Anya could say. Spoiler alert, they’d be going to a place much worse than jail.

"It's okay...it's okay...we won't be in that much trouble...trespassing is all they can really prove, right?" Mattie tried to convince herself more than Anya.

“Yeah we’ll be ok, right? How can they know it was us?” Julia asked, not helping them look any more uninvolved.

"Know what was us?" Mattie tried unsuccessfully to sound nonchalant.

Julia entirely missed the nature of the question as she replied: “The factory accident and the sign falling on that person”

If Cassie, Mattie, and Anya hadn’t been handcuffed they would have all facepalmed.

The aghast and (admittedly pervy) crowd continued to film the four women leaned over the hood of the car. The bent over Cassie, in her see-through “it’s like time” dress, especially garnered attention. The TikTok clip of Julia accidentally admitting to the crime would quickly become one of many memes and audio clips spawned from this unfortunate foray into vigilantism, Anya saying “I think we’re going to jail…” perfectly summed up the whole ordeal in edits, and who could forget Mattie trying to bluff her way out of being arrested.

After about half an hour in that humiliating position, and lewd appraisals of their bodies being shouted at the spider-women, a Stark Industries sky-taxi with the SWORD insignia and the words "PRISONER TRANSPORT" written on the side landed on the road and the Arachnachicks/Spiderwomen/Spider-Girls/They-Seriously-Need-To-Come-Up-With-A-Name were escorted aboard.

Anya looked ahead at the sky-taxi in fear. “SWORD? Where are they taking us?” She asked just before a SWORD agent gave her a shove in the right direction.

"Nowhere good..." Cassie said as her vision flashed forward to them in prison uniforms aboard The Raft.

Mattie didn’t seem quite as upset as her immediate reaction was to complain how “Aw, man, we don't even get a quinjet..."

Julia continued to showcase an utter lack of understanding of how any of the legal process worked as she said: “Prisoner transport? We haven’t even been tried” incorrectly assuming that “prisoner” only means that they’d already been sentenced.

The four of them were strapped into their seats and not two minutes later the sky-taxi took flight.

"Shit..." Cassie murmured as she had another vision of the Raft...and what their life would be like there if the other prisoners know the truth of their story. She saw the four of them kneeling in a prison shower with red-smacked asses, licking the holes of all the bigger and tougher inmates. "...Oh shit. Guys, we need a story..."

Anya looked confused. “Isn’t it a bit late for an alibi?”

"No, no, not what I meant. They're taking us to prison...and I just saw what will happen to us in there if the other prisoners hear about what just happened..."

“What will happen?”

"We'll be made to, uh...serve the tougher prisoners...in the shower." Cassie tried to put it as delicately as she could.

“What does that mean?” Julia nervously chimed in

"We're gonna be sex slaves." Mattie put it plainly. "Unless we can convince 'em we're a lot tougher than we actually are." She’d seen a prison movie once and that knowledge was already proving helpful.

Upon hearing that, Anya looked even more horrified than when she saw a sign crush a person to death. “W-What? That only happens in men’s prisons”

“I thought so too, but in my vision..." Cassie explained

“Ok so we need a story to make us sound tough. But what?” Anya asked

Mattie thought for a moment. "Well, we did arguably just kill a guy..."

Anya quickly had an idea and thought aloud “What if he was a supervillain?!”

"Yes, that's good!" Cassie suggested. "He was trying to kill us, and we dropped a whole Pepsi sign on him to defend ourselves!"

"Okay...why was he tryna kill us?" Mattie asked

“Maybe he had visions too and saw that we were going to kill him?” Julia offered

"Yes...yes, that's great!" Cassie agreed.

From there they spent the rest of the flight fleshing out the absurd details of their nonsensical story (The incoherent plot of Madame Web)

Chapter Text

It had been a surprisingly long trip in the sky-taxi (a different surprise was how it somehow managed to fly them out of New York out onto the ocean, but that was less pressing) when it finally made landing on the long runway of The Raft. Cuffed and ready to go, the incompetent vigilantes were brought inside for their intake by a pretty significantly sized group of armed guards considering that the four accidental criminals hadn’t done anything *too* severe. Nonetheless, the grand arrival was standard procedure. The walk into the supermax prison was difficult, and not just because they'd be locked up for an indeterminate amount of time surrounded by the worst criminals on the planet. That would logically be the main thing on everyone’s minds, but it was hard to think when the tight shackles around their ankles caused them to trip every few steps. 

By the time they actually reached the intake room, they’d each stumbled and nearly fallen over at least a dozen times. It was honestly a relief when the guards around them ordered the women to step into the marked room ahead and stand still. A relief that wouldn’t last long because as soon as they entered they were met by two other guards, Officers Sarah Weaver and Renee Winters, who watched them wolfishly. 

"Spider-chicks, spider-chicks..." Renee sang (to the tune of the Spider-Man theme song) as the doors shut behind them. 

"Get caught immediately, cuffs go click. 

Can they swing, from a web, 

No they can't, they got caught on a fire-escape...okay, the rhyme scheme doesn't work, but you get the idea."

The song made Mattie cringe as shuffled in her cuffs, trying to figure out how exactly she wanted to respond. She didn’t have to though because the other guard sang:

“They can’t climb

So they’ll do time!”

Officer Weaver added to Renee’s little song with a grin. Both of them were already *very* familiar with the wannabe-Spider-Women thanks to the sudden notoriety the group had gained in just the past few hours. 

"Oh, that's good, thanks!" Renee said to Weaver.

Cassie couldn’t do much but glance at both guards before she had a series of visions of having to perform various (dubiously consensual) sex acts on them while wearing an orange fishnet body-stocking vaguely resembling her current dress. 

Anya was far more outspoken as she looked up at both of the guards and defiantly said:  “I want to talk to my lawyer!”

"Yeah, same." Mattie added. 

The plea for a lawyer was promptly ignored as Weaver and Renee conversed on their new toys again. "So, which two do you want? Dibs on the redhead, by the way." Renee staked claim. Weaver eyed her options carefully before responding:  “Hmm I think I’ll take fishnet dress here annnnnd little Ms. ‘Is there a problem officer?’”

Renee nodded in agreement to that deal. “So that leaves me with latina cutie too”

Ever quick to catch only the most important parts of a conversation, Julia protested: “Dibs on the redhead? That’s kinda objectifying!” 

Whether speaking up was a good or bad thing Julia couldn’t tell because it was met with only a laugh from Renee. “God, I love the new-fish. So innocent..."

Julia gulped in dread at the emphasis put on innocent. “W-What do you mean?”

Julia wasn’t the only to have something to say about the guards conversation. “It’s a metaphor…” left Cassie’s mouth immediately after her dress was brought up, beginning 

her rambly explanation again. Mattie was more focused on being called “Ms. Is there a problem officer”. Although she dreaded knowing the answer, she asked: “Uh...how do you know about that?" 

Weaver looked all too thrilled that she asked. “You girls are kinda famous right now!”

“Great…” Mattie sighed as Weaver turned to Cassie. 

“Oh and your “metaphor” is a great public nudity charge” the brunette guard taunted. 

"Oh...probably should have thought of that..." Cassie admitted. 

“Well you’ll have plenty of time to think about it”

Renee stepped behind Anya and roughly inserted the key into the locks of the girl’s cuffs. The chain rattled and clanged as the mechanism slid into place and an activity light flashed green and snapped into satisfying blue. “Hey, Sarah, wanna know something funny?"

“Always”

"Those clowns at ICE filed a request for this one to be transferred to their custody!" Renee barely suppressed a laugh as she explained. "Like...how did they expect that to go?"

“Really? Wow they really don’t understand that we never let such pretty new meat go”

Anya ignored the “new meat” comment and chose to be excited by the news. “So I’m not getting deported?” She asked in relief. 

Renee chuckled. "Sure, honey, that's the good news. Bad news, this is the Raft, basically super-Guantanamo, and you're never leaving!" she said cheerfully.

“N-Never leaving? That’s insane! I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent!” Anya went from relieved to terrified fast.

"No we're not..." Cassie corrected Anya. "...We're like...really tough. That guy we dropped a Pepsi sign on was like...Spider-Man on steroids.”

“What?” Anya asked dumbfounded for a second before remembering their new story. “Oh right! Well we’re superheroes who stopped evil Spider-Man! We don’t deserve to be here!”

Renee worked very hard to not laugh out loud. "Oh, sure. Evil spider-man. Makes sense. So, uh...what are you? Spider-girl? Spider-chica?"

"I'm spider-girl." Mattie interjected. 

“I’m Araña” Anya replied like it’s a cool name. 

“And I’m Spider-Woman”

“What about you, metaphor dress?” 

“Madame Web..”

Renee smirked, amused. "And together, you're...?"

"The spider-girls!" Mattie said proudly.

"Yeah, we never quite agreed on that..." Cassie chimed in. 

“I thought we agreed on Arachnachicks?” Anya only made the list of awful names worse. 

Renee met Sarah's eyes with a look that said 'These girls are going to be traded like currency in the shower.’ 

Weaver stepped behind Cassie and started to undo her cuffs. “Did you make this dress yourself?” she asked as the key clicked into place. 

 Cassie paused, surprised by Weaver’s seemingly sincere tone."Uh...yes, actually."

“You should have done fashion design or somethin”

"You really think so?" Cassie sounded flattered.

“Yeah. Well it’s a bit late now since you’re probably spending the rest of your life here but still”

"Oh, yeah..." Cassie sounded a little deflated...but only a little. "Um...what will happen to it?" she asked, somewhat more concerned about the dress’ fate post-incarceration than her own. 

Weaver turned the key slowly, letting every gear click loose. “Do you want an honest answer to that?”

"I'll probably see if you don't tell me anyway."

“Well I’ll probably keep it. I can’t just let such a beautiful dress go to waste”

Cassie didn’t seem too upset with that. "I could make some adjustments so that it's your size..." She offered as the handcuffs came loose. 

"Alright, shall we get to the main event? We will now begin your complimentary strip-search. All of you get naked. Well..." she glanced at Cassie. "More naked."

There were a few disgusted groans from the Arachnachicks, but, whether due to a passing familiarity with prison procedure from watching movies (as in the case of Mattie), or because they figured it wouldn’t be much worse than their current state (Cassie), they knew what to do. Well most of them did. While her friends stripped down to nothing around her, Julia had said “Ok…” and then simply stood witlessly looking about the room for a changing room. 

Renee gave Julia a moment to catch on to what the others were doing and replicate it, but when that wasn’t working she coughed. "I'm waiting, prisoner."

Julia looked at Renee in desperate confusion, the neurons in her brain firing as she took a painfully slow time to catch on. By now Mattie was down to nothing but her underwear, Anya was almost out of her super-suit, and Cassie was delicately taking off her dress trying to make sure she didn’t damage it. Finally it clicked and Julia gasped. “Wait, you want me to undress right here?!” 

"Yes, and if you don't start in three seconds, bad things will happen. 3...2...Hey, Sarah, when you're done getting fashion tips, we've got an uncooperative prisoner over here."

“Just tase her. That always works” Weaver shrugged. “Make sure the voltage is high”

Julia watched Renee’s belt, scared, but curious, if the guard would actually do it. She planned to relent as soon as she knew Renee was serious. She got her answer when Renee raised her taser and pointed it at her. "Strip.”

Julia needed no further confirmation that the guards weren’t above harming her and immediately began undressing. She was fearful enough to make up for lost time, swinging her arm back and forcefully pulling down the zipper of her black and white Spidey-suit hard enough that it probably ripped along its quick descent. She didn’t pause to finish letting her costume fall down to the floor before she unhooked her pink bra and let her well-endowed double D doughy breasts tumble free from their confinement. 

Renee whistled. "I definitely made the right call." She said with a smirk which only made Julia self-consciously cover her chest. "Hey, Sarah, I think this one could give Darcy a run for her money.”

Sarah turned her attention from the now undressed Mattie to gawk at Julia. “Mommy milkers like those are gonna make her real popular here” she mused crudely. Mattie was a little relieved to have her guard’s attention drawn off her flawless dark skin, but that was short lived as a second later she let out a yelp as Weaver stepped behind her, embracing her in a sort of hug with her hands clasped around her tits. 

"That's sexual harassment! There's gotta be some kinda rule against that!" Mattie cried out

“There aren’t. International waters. We can do *whatever* we want with you” Weaver reasoned matter of factly. It was true. As long as none of the inmates died under their watch the guards had free reign to live out every twisted fantasy on their prisoners. 

"Great..." was all Mattie could say. Clearly that was going to be her new catchphrase in here. 

If there was ever a word to describe Officer Sarah Weaver it was “unprofessional”. A creepy and obsessive fangirl who’s duty to her job was always secondary to her own satisfaction, she rarely was one to actually responsibly complete the non-sexual tasks that came with her line of work. It was something that made her stand out even in a prison full of pervy guards. Meanwhile, Renee enjoyed the whole process of humiliating the new arrivals just as much as Weaver, but she at least maintained a professional standard of search. So one can hardly be surprised that Weaver had opted to half-heartedly search Mattie’s big and beautiful jet black hair with all the care of a toddler, while Renee methodically searched Julia's hair, ears, mouth and nose with her torch.

Both searches progressed with a certain gusto, never slowing to the prisoner’s pace. It really summarised what life would be like now for the accident-prone vigilantes. They’d be forced to live within a system that never stopped or slowed to their convenience. Weaver tugged and pulled at Mattie’s thick hair, and Renee tussled and spun Julia into whatever position was best. The feeling of poorly lubricated latex gloves running along every bit of their bodies wouldn’t be something they forget (thankfully they had a future full of strip searches to be sure of that).

Having long quietly removed the nude-coloured undergarment she had on under her dress, Cassie tried to cover herself with her hands as her and Anya glanced awkwardly at the scene unfolding before them. The patience to wait their turn to be searched had lapsed and expired when Anya ventured to ask “How long does a search usually take?”

"Why? Got somewhere to be?" Renee asked sarcastically while flashing her light down Julia’s mouth. 

“No…” Anya replied glumly. The thought that being stripped naked and forcefully searched was just the start of prison life was something that shut her up.

Point made, Renee turned back to Julia and shut the torch off. "Lift up your breasts by the nipples." She ordered with a smirk knowing there would be a greater demand for Julia than for any of her compatriots.

Julia hung her head down in shame to conceal just how much she was blushing as she pinched her (embarrassingly) hard nipples between her fingers and lifted her tits up for her perverted guard. Having double Ds had always been in her benefit on the outside, but it quickly was becoming apparent that it was only going to get her unwanted attention in prison. It made her shiver when Renee ran her fingers under her breasts, infuriatingly slowly, and took the opportunity to feel them up. "Okay, lift up your feet, one at a time, you can lean on the wall if you need to."

Julia nodded and awkwardly tried to turn around and lift her right foot up, stumbling from a poor center of balance with every little movement. The convict attempted an embarrassingly substantial number of attempts that made it look like an undignified little dance which made Renee laugh out loud and give a 'you seeing this shit?' look to Weaver. Julia eventually relented and just stood against the wall for better support. Finally in one spot, Renee did a quick check of Julia's soles that could have been done thrice over in the time that Julia stumbled about.   

While Julia was doing a dumb dance for Renee, Weaver was almost finished with all of the least interesting parts of Mattie’s search. She removed her torch from illuminating Mattie’s left ear and lifted the inmate’s right arm up to procedurally search her armpit. “Those spider suits of yours really don’t breathe do they?” Weaver remarked. 

Mattie looked mortified. "I wore a lot of antiperspirant..." she said defensively.

“I would suggest a change in brand but y’know” 

Mattie sighed...but her curiosity got the better of her. "...What kind of change in brand?"

“*Freyja* would have probably been the best brand for you. Pretty sure Black Widow uses it” Weaver was more than happy to suggest

"Thanks..." Mattie said, somewhat absurdly given the context.

“Of course. I can probably get you some in return for a favour” It was far from the best deal Weaver had attempted to make with an inmate, but the women present didn’t exactly seem like the brightest of new girls. 

While no one really noticed, the offer triggered a vision in Cassie. There were brief flashes of a dizzying array of things Weaver would later expect from them. Among them Cassie saw a breathtaking moment in a cluttered office. Mattie was tucked away underneath the lip of the desk with her face buried between Weaver’s thighs. The sounds of moans filled her mind and then they were gone. As fast as the visions had come they had stopped. 

Cassie breathed a slow calming inhale as the subjects of the vision discussed the deal. 

"…I mean, I prolly won't need it. Prison uniforms breathe better, right?" Mattie asked. 

Weaver chuckled. “A) Literally anything breathes better than the costumes you girls were wearing…well, except for Cassie’s. B) You’ll be working in a mine from now on. Imagine what it will be like to work impossibly long hours of breaking rocks only to get sent back to the cell you share with at least one other person. Trust me, you’re going to miss deodorant”

Mattie gulped, not giving an immediate answer, but she would think about it.

Both guards came to similar (unsurprising) conclusions. Mattie and Julia were in fact not hiding anything. Who would have thought? To wrap things up, Mattie was shoved against the wall and Renee finished by saying: "Okay, all that's left is the cavity search, which I'll perform after I've done the preliminary search on Latina cutie. Speaking of which..."

Now it was Anya and Cassie’s turn…

Anya was gently, but firmly, taken by the shoulder and forced to endure the beginning stages of a search that was pretty identical to Julia’s. The same could not be said for Cassie.

Cassie had been dragged by the hand and stood next to Mattie. She hadn’t even been able to catch her bearings before the search began with the shining of a light in her eyes. Blinded and confused, Weaver asked her a question. “So how does it feel being a famous superhero?”

"Not great...” Cassie answered honestly, knowing the kind of fame she meant. She’d wanted to become a famous superhero, not a viral sexy blunder. “How bad is it? The...publicity, I mean” 

Weaver held Cassie’s jaw and made her open wide as she answered: “Well the people at the Daily Bugle almost had a heart attack at the existence of four more spider-menaces, WHiH have almost exclusively talked about you four as proof why the Accords are necessary, pretty sure some weird Intelligencia people are using you as examples of why women can’t be superheroes…” Weaver gagged “…and there are already about a billion edits and videos about you four on TikTok if that helps” she put the torch on her belt and moved to Cassie’s shoulders. 

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Intelligencia? I thought they all doxxed each other in a fight over She-Hulk's shoes." She wanted to ask about seeing some of the TikTok videos, but a well-timed vision of what Weaver would demand in exchange for that and she promptly decided against it. 

“Lift your tits” Weaver ordered.

Cassie was never more glad than now to have relatively small breasts. She lifted them up in turn, wincing slightly as her long nails pressed into her nipples...suddenly having rather peculiar vision. She could see Weaver in her office, admiring herself in a mirror, wearing her web-dress...without the nude-coloured undergarment.

“Something wrong?” Weaver asked, noticing Cassie’s weird pause as she had the vision. Her concern wasn’t great enough though that she didn’t proceed to begin feeling up Cassie’s breasts. 

"Huh? Oh, uh...nothing...just...I...I see the future sometimes..." Cassie explained, hoping that it didn’t sound too ridiculous.

“Ok….so what’d you see?”

"Uh...you...in my dress...you-you look good in it..." Cassie stumbled over her words. "...And have more confidence than me to go without the body stocking..."

Weaver nodded her head in surprise at the accuracy of things “Yeah that basically is what I planned on doing later. Guess your vision was right. What other things have you seen in your future?

"I uh...can't have visions on demand." Cassie apologised. Why did she sound apologetic to the guard that was feeling her up? She didn’t know. 

“Sounds like a pretty useless superpower” Weaver said bluntly. “Raise your right foot”

Cassie tried to balance on one foot, hopping around a few times before tenuously balancing in place. A simple little push would have been enough to send her to the ground. 

“Ok now the left”

Cassie was pretty sure Weaver didn't even check her right foot, but she also wasn’t about to make an issue of it. She shifted to the left after a few more humiliating hops.

Weaver grinned. “Actually, I’m not sure I fully saw your right foot. Lift it again”

Cassie breathlessly asked her “Seriously?" only to be shot back with a ‘what do you think?” look. The seer performed the act again…and again…and again, blushing red as she did. It wasn’t until the second or third cycle that Weaver got bored and told her this part of the search was done and that she could wait against the wall besides Mattie. Coincidentally, Weaver also had spent long enough humiliating Cassie that Renee had already thoroughly searched Anya's head and was now having her lift her breasts, an act which she didn’t seem to like the idea of doing. 

“What could I even hide under them? Her I get, but I’ve got nothing” Anya complained as Renee checked under them. 

"You'd be surprised. Some women have been known to tape packs of powdered drugs or even razor blades under their breasts...doesn't look like you thought that far ahead, though.”

Anya found the idea of taping a razor blade to her breasts extremely uncomfortable. It seemed like just the slightest mishap would result in a painful little cut. 

While she wouldn’t see the luck in things, Anya fortunately didn’t have to endure as twisted a search as Cassie had. For now at least. The four women were now subject to part two of their searches…the cavity search. 

All lined up against the wall each looking a mix of tired, embarrassed, scared, and pissed of, they knew what was about to come next was going to make everything thus far look enviable. Knowing that the inmates were dreading what was to come, it was only natural that Weaver would ask: “Which of you would like to go first?”

To which an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. It was as if not saying anything would somehow pull the guards to a standstill and the prisoners wouldn’t have to endure it. Each of them shifted with trepidation, waiting for someone else to go. In a sense, it was an unspoken expectation that one of the others would be the one to volunteer. Anya, Julia, and Cassie all could suddenly breathe again when Mattie said "Not it” laughing nervously at her own lame joke. A joke which doomed her to be the first in their group to get her holes probed. 

Renee turned to Weaver "I think Itapo just volunteered."

"Ah...Itapo?" Mattie questioned as Weaver forced her to bend against the wall and then the guard bore down on her, hot breath against her neck and hand on her firm black butt. 

"'Is There A Problem Officer'" Renee explained the nickname with a grin.

The nickname stung, but not as much as the feeling of a cold finger sliding roughly into Mattie’s previously virginal asshole. She shrieked and anxiously shifted her balance from bare foot to bare foot but it did nothing to make it hurt any less. "AH! PLE-EEAAASE!" Mattie whined, sounding absolutely pathetic. "There's nothing up there!"

“Sorry, but this is standard procedure” Sarah Weaver teased as she pulled her finger out just to ram it back up her again. 

The sensation made Mattie squirm, helplessly yelling: "FUUUCK!" Weaver’s cold finger continued to run along the inner flesh of her rectum, probing for contraband she know she wouldn’t have. “Say your name is Itapo and then we can move on” 

"Ah...wha...why?" Mattie asked, equal parts confused by the request and embarrassed at fulfilling it.

“Because I said so. Now do it or I’ll make this so much worse”

"Ahh...mmm...M-my name...My name is...Itapo..." Mattie said, almost whispering the last word.

“Louder…” Weaver curled her finger inside her. 

"AAHHH! ITAPO, MY NAME IS ITAPO!" Mattie shrieked.

“See that wasn’t so hard!” Weaver said gleefully, removing her finger in a gesture. Mattie, or Itapo now, was given just a second to breath before her shoulder was grabbed and she was turned around. Mattie’s mind raced from the pain in humiliation but her consciousness was pulled back when she felt Weaver lay a hand between her legs.

Mattie tried to silence her moan as Weaver found her wet to the touch. 

“Really?” Anya and Julia stared at Mattie judgmentally. Julia couldn’t imagine how she could possibly enjoy the feeling of a strong sexy guard rubbing her pussy. That’s when Julia felt Renee come up behind her and quickly make it clear to her what Mattie was finding so fun...

“Doesn’t this feel nice, DeeDee?" Renee teased, twisting her fingers inside her and rubbing her clit with her thumb. Julia was at a complete loss for words at the guard's explorative touch, enough so that she entirely missed (or didn’t care) about her new nickname regarding her particularly well endowed feature. She shut her eyes in silent embrace of the moment, Mattie’s ragged euphoric breaths heaving at her side. Tingles shot down her spine. Whether she wanted to or not, she could feel herself getting to the verge of climaxing…and at that moment Renee pulled her hand away and painfully went up the other end. 

Anya watched in forced disgust as her friends were searched. Though she refused to admit it to herself, something about watching what happened to Mattie and Julia, the way they moaned and cried, it turned her on. If she hadn’t buried it beneath a thick layer of insistence that she was 100% totally straight, she would have recognised that the scene unfolding before her was getting her going. So how did Anya Corazõn, the Amazing Araña, react when it was her turn next? Not with any dignity. It was utterly bizarre when, lacking any subtlety, she immediately blurted out “I’m not a lesbian!!!” before Renee had even laid a finger on her. 

"Uh...Nobody said you were...interesting that's where your head went." Renee smirked. The sapphic guard looked genuinely surprised by the sudden outburst. Sure she’d heard it loads of times from scared convicts, but it wasn’t usually screamed at the top of their lungs without being touched. 

“What? I…” Anya failed to find a good response before she jolted at the feeling of Renee placing her hand against her well-shaven sex. 

"So..." Renee said as she began to finger her. "...I guess since you're totally, 100% straight as an arrow...you won't be interested in an orgasm from me?"

“No!” Anya insisted vehemently while bending to her touch. For someone so against it, she moved herself closer. 

"Whatever you say..." Renee teased as she shoved a finger up Anya’s rear. Working her search deeper, she mentally struggled for a good nickname for Anya. It needed to be something catchy, and relevant to the girl’s obvious repressed sexuality. Nothing came to mind so she asked:

"Hey, Sarah, what's a snappy word for something you'd find real deep in a closet?"

Weaver mulled the question over for a time as she played with an utterly blissful looking Cassie. “Probably some kind of lingerie. That’s what I keep towards the back at least”

Renee nodded. "Hmm...What do you think of 'Laci' as a name for this one? Too many layers of explanation?" she asked over Anya’s pathetic squeals of pain. 

“I think it sounds cute” Weaver replied. 

"Great. You hear that, Laci? It's your new name, I expect you to answer to it." 

“Come on, really?” Anya whined through the physical discomfort. 

Renee twisted her finger, making Anya cry out. "Yes, really. What's your name?"

Through gritted teeth Anya gave her the answer she wanted. 

At long last the search was soon over and only one more thing remained before our incompetent heroines could begin their lifelong stay in prison. Taking her place in front of the inmates, Renee asked Sarah with a fiendish grin: "So, ready to move on to the mugshots?"

Mattie raised an eyebrow. "Don't we get uniforms first?"

“Don’t we get uniforms first?” Weaver mimicked mockingly before responding with a flat, “No”

“But…But that has to be against the rules!” Julia protested

“Again, international waters. What part of this place being a blacksite isn’t making sense?” Weaver replied. 

“Please…” Anya tried to plead to Renee for some sympathy

"You're wasting your breath." Renee told Anya frankly..

Weaver carefully fetched her camera, a possession she truly prized, while Renee gathered the signs for the four women. Once the camera was properly tended to Weaver’s satisfaction, she looked over her options in models. “Alright, who should go first? So many great choices….Itapo you’re up first again!”

Mattie stared daggers at Weaver but silently took her place in front of the height chart and lifted to her chest the sign which read: “Franklin, Martha: #SSM-1998”. She had been trying to hide from the guards' gaze before being picked. Today was not her lucky day. 

Stony faced, Mattie watched as Weaver was determined to get the perfect pictures. She was honestly really passionate about this. Surprisingly so. It would have been flattering if she wasn’t unwillingly naked. Still, the enthusiasm in photography was a little infectious and she found herself a little less annoyed as she turned to get the next shot. 

Weaver lowered her camera, finished with her passionless inmate. “Alright stand over there and wait for us to finish with the others” she pointed at the table with a stack of clothes on it which Mattie didn’t hesitate to go to and get herself dressed. 

"Okay, Laci, you're up next." Renee said to Anya, handing her her sign.

Anya bitterly looked at what her sign said as she marched over to the chart. Standing in front of the room with her sign below her chest, a question burned in Anya that would have been best unanswered. She tried to quell it as Weaver turned the camera’s attention up, but the question only burned hotter. Unable to bear not knowing, she nervously asked aloud: “Will people see this?”

Renee didn’t hesitate to explain that "It'll be in your inmate file, so all guards and prison staff will see it."

“Wait no! Please just let me put my clothes on first!” Anya pleaded, just as Weaver’s camera flashed. 

Renee paid Anya’s terror no mind and simply ordered the next instruction. "A shy one. Interesting. Turn left, keep the sign facing the camera."

Anya started to…and then she paused. This was ridiculous. Sure she maybe accidentally helped crush a guy to death, but she didn’t deserve to be humiliated like this. Maybe if she just asserted herself they’d let her keep some dignity. Lowering the sign away from view and turning to face the guards once more, she boldly demanded: “I’m not doing anything until you let me get dressed…please”

Renee folded her and looked stern while Weaver was rendered completely useless, nearly dropping her beloved camera in a fit of laughter. "That's not gonna happen. Hold up the sign." Renee calmly ordered.

“No” Anya objected, though it came out sounding like more of a question really. 

She was a superhero and she wasn’t going to back down! Well she didn’t plan on it. Her meagre confidence dwindled as she watched Renee go to the desk that stood near the back of the room and retrieve a sturdy looking orange rubber spanking paddle that had air holes for increased speed. Renee held up the sturdy weapon. "Literally the only difference you're gonna make is how long this takes, and whether or not your mugshots feature a red ass. Your choice..."

Anya stared deeply at the terrifying paddle. Her mind was already racing with very obvious second-thoughts about her act of defiance. She could have just given up now…but she wasn’t in The Raft for good decision making. Quivering slightly, she doubled down: “…You wouldn’t…I mean, your scare tactic isn’t going to work on me!”

Renee rolled her eyes and a second later she had Anya by her hair and was pulling her to a chair to hold her over her knee.

Eyes wide, Mattie looked to Weaver. "Is she fuckin' serious?"

“Yeah she is.” Weaver smiled, raising her camera to take pictures. The day had provided her with better photo material than anything she could have devised. 

Anya had already begun to tear up before the paddle had even hit her. “Wait no please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

"Too late, point's gotta be made." Renee said, then began viciously, repeatedly smacking her ass with the paddle, alternating cheeks and never leaving her long enough to catch her breath. Renee was sure to make sure Weaver had opportunities to get pictures as she went. 

Anya could only scream and plead messy and slobbery incoherent words as the orange paddle struck her cheeks in rapid succession. The feeling of rubber against bare flesh hurt in a way far beyond what she had imagined possible. Each time she tried to catch her breath another blow would come down hard on her butt. Through teary eyes she could occasionally catch Weaver walking back and forth getting the perfect angles for her shots.

Once her ass was a nice photogenic shade of red, Renee paused the spanking. "Are you gonna be cooperative with your mugshots now?" Her tone was infuriatingly calm.

Anya wanted to respond immediately, but she found she couldn’t thanks to a nasty combination of the pain and being entirely out of breath. It felt like it took forever before she could say a tearful “Y-Yes”

Renee looked to Weaver to confirm she had all the pictures she wanted.

Weaver looked over her reel. “Maybe just one more with you facing me? I don’t have one like that yet.”

“What?! I thought we were done!” Anya raggedly yelled just as Sarah turned to face the camera with a smile and gave her rear one final smack for emphasis. 

Cassie looked as white as a sheet through the whole ordeal, while Mattie was staring in open-mouthed disbelief. A spanking...an actual fucking spanking...what kind of prison was this? Julia could only be horrified as the torture of their friend finally came to an end. She couldn’t live her life in a crazy torture prison run by horny lesbian guards! 

Anya didn’t dare do anything she wasn’t told to do for the rest of her mugshots. Even when Weaver told her to bend over and hold her sign just below her butt she obeyed. She now knew what exactly the guards did to bratty inmates and she never wanted to experience it again. Her steps were pained as she assumed her place besides Mattie. It was now Cassie’s turn.

Just like Mattie and Anya, Cassie stood in front of the chart and looked despondent. 

“Smile for the camera.” Weaver ordered. 

Cassie looked perturbed. “Seriously?”

Weaver stared her down. A threat now set down for all to fear, she turned and said passively: “Officer Renee, please get the paddle…”

"Wait, don't!" Cassie forced an obviously fake smile onto her face and hoped it would be enough. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Weaver snapped her picture. “To the right”

When all was said and done, Cassie got to walk away from the board without any painful bruises, unlike Anya. Sure her face hurt because she was too terrified to drop the grin she’d been ordered to have, but she’d be fine. Now where was her jumpsuit?

Weaver sighed. “Alright that just leaves one more of you…” 

"Um..." Cassie began to speak up softly, embarrassed and afraid. "...There...there doesn't seem to be a jumpsuit with my number..."

”I had the inmates in the factory make something special for you, but it isn’t ready yet so I guess you’ll just have to wait. It should be ready soon…”

"What...make something...I..." A vision of the orange web dress flashed before Cassie’s eyes again and she blushed. "Oh..."

"DeeDee, is there a reason you aren't in front of the camera yet?” Renee glared. 

“I…but…ok” Julia resigned herself to doing whatever they wanted after seeing what happened to Anya. Shoulders slumped, she shyly shuffled in front of the camera. She felt more self conscious posing naked there than she did getting recorded by half of NYC. Sign gripped over her buxom breasts in one hand, and crotch covered by the other, she stared nervously into the camera.

"Nice try, but no hiding the goods, sweetie." Renee chuckled, folding her arms in satisfaction as she watched Weaver work. Between Julia and Darcy, Renee may soon have a monopoly on big-titted prisoners belonging to herself…well, apart from the obvious big green exception. The last photo was taken. "Okay, Deedee, go get dressed. Sarah, when was Mystic Meg’s uniform meant to be ready?"

“It *should* have been done by now…I guess they’re running late.” Weaver said, annoyed. There was a silent impatient pause while Julia was getting dressed before the door drew open and a nameless guard entered and set down a white box. Finally, Weaver took the box and held it up to Cassie, eagerly bidding her to open her “present”

Cassie already knew what awful outfit the box contained as she joylessly unwrapped the present. Sure enough, within the white box was an orange fishnet body-stocking, pieced together haphazardly from bits and pieces of various materials that could be found in the factory. If the metaphor dress was scandalously revealing, this truly would leave nothing unseen.

"...Don't suppose I can opt for the jumpsuit?"

Weaver scoffed, reacting as if Cassie’s valid reaction had personally wounded her down to her very core. “No. You can’t. Now put it on” she commanded in a tone distinctly less warm than it has been throughout the intake process. 

Cassie felt strangely bad about upsetting Weaver. She’d been in this place maybe half an hour and it was already messing with her head. But at least she wasn’t the only one initially displeased with their new wardrobe. Julia was bothered by pieces of her outfit…or, more accurately, by the lack thereof. She raised her hand for permission to speak because just had to bring it up. 

"What is it, Deedee?" Renee asked with feigned annoyance.

“I-I think you…forgot…something”

Renee chose to make a dramatic show of wondering what she might mean. "No, I don't think we have. But let's check: Do you have your jumpsuit?"

Julia shrunk against the wall, feeling very put on the spot. She was hoping they wouldn’t make a big deal of this. “Yes”

"And a pair of panties with 'property of the Raft' printed across your ass?"

Julia answered the question with a meek “…yes”

"Then that's everything." Renee concluded with a sadistic grin, daring her to press the issue.

“…But what about a bra…and shoes?!” Julia said a little more intensely than she meant. Fearing repercussions she added “I think you forgot it. I-I understand since It’s been a really busy day…but can I please have them now?”

"Not part of the standard uniform." Renee said flatly, with a grin that belied her tone of bureaucratic detachment. "If you want one, you're gonna have to earn it..."

“How?” Julia asked naively, eliciting a look from Renee that told her to guess. Of course Julia failed to catch on and continued in stride. “Well I really don’t know what the work is like here but I’ll do anything!”

Cassie leaned in and whispered a brief explanation of the type of things Renee Winters would expect to “earn” , which made Julia hastily take back her comment about doing anything. “Oh! Nevermind! I-I’m fine without it…”

Renee only shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself. Weaver, shall we parade the fresh fish through the cellblock?”

“Gladly!” Weaver responded. 

Cassie’s hands sprung to cover herself in preparation for the walk. She couldn’t believe she was actually being forced to wear her new custom-made outfit. 

“Hands to your side, inmate, or I’ll be forced to cuff you” Weaver barked. 

"B-but ma'am...shouldn't my body be reserved for you and only you?” Cassie argued in as sycophantic a way as possible. The attempt did not work and with that the Arachnachicks were taken to their new home.

Chapter Text

The Arachnachicks were led down different cellblocks where they were each met with similar reactions. The air was thick and hot, but the four hapless new girls shivered at the piercing stares that the women all down the block had on them. There was something hungry, no ravenous, about the way they stared. It ventured beyond just unsettling. 

Mattie and Anya were wise enough to know not to look them in the eyes. It was as if engaging with them would condemn them into being brought into that cell. Cassie was 

too overwhelmed to speak, as, with every step, she seemed to have another vision of being stripped, spanked, sexually assaulted or otherwise generally abused by every inmate she saw. It was nightmarish. Julia couldn’t help but frantically turn to see the countless scary women they passed. 

"Look at the knockers on that one!" Sylvie Laufeydottir remarked excitedly to Valkyrie about Julia. "I don't recognise any of them, do you?"

“I don’t. They’re cute though” Valkyrie replied while she playfully reached for Julia, brushing a finger against her shoulder.

“Nice dress, cutie” Agatha Harkness wickedly grinned at Cassie.

"You'd look good curled up at the foot of my bed" Laura Kinney, better known by her experiment name “X-23”, thought aloud. 

Another woman, Maya Lopez, signed something that Anya didn't understand…until she made a ‘V’ with her fingers and began licking the space between them. 

Each of the new girls had a moment where they couldn’t help but gasp with horror. These prisoners were incredibly fit and all hardened criminals. The Arachnachicks were way in over their heads. Cassie’s premonition made more and more sense. They each could only fearfully wonder where they may be headed. 

Mattie had to wait the shortest amount of time to find out as Weaver pulled her to a pause and the cell door to the left drew open. With a small shove, Mattie was pushed into her new home. One she’d be sharing with two threatening looking individuals. 

Standing in the corner, eyes shut as she took a long drag from the cigarette in her hand, was a slender looking woman with dark oily green hair. Against the bunk bed with her arms crossed was another woman with violently red hair. Viper and Sin. 

"Um...Hi." Mattie said to her cellmates, trying to sound less nervous than she was as the door rattled shut behind her. She stood up straight, shoulders back, in what she hoped was an intimidating presence. 

Viper withdrew the cigarette from her emerald lips with a sigh, opening her eyes with a flutter as she did. There was a silent pause as she looked the new fish over with a particular, obvious, disdain. “Hi there” she greeted in a sultry voice, just the slightest hint of disgust present in her tone.

‘I'm Mattie...I mean...Spider-Girl." She was a little uncertain as to whether she should use real names or superhero names in prison, so to be safe she used both. Stressed as she was, she didn't catch the disdain in Viper's tone.

"Who are you?" Mattie asked the green-haired woman after an awkward pause.

“…Spider-Girl” Viper repeated slowly, considering vocalising her current thought process. Ultimately she decided to say nothing for now and answer the question. “They call me Viper. You may have heard of me” A good number of people were familiar with her after her terrorist plot was ruined by The Avengers, but that was years ago and memories fade

Mattie’s eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, I remember." she said, trying badly to hide how nervous she was to be locked up with a terrorist. "You tried to blow up Avengers Tower, right?"

“And several surrounding districts” Viper proudly added. If her plot had been successful, it would have killed thousands. 

"Impressive." Mattie said, trying to sound more impressed than nervous. She kept her eyes locked with Viper’s, having heard that was a good way to establish dominance.

Sin grew tired of letting Ophelia have all of the fun. Moving behind Mattie, she threw her arm around her in an uncomfortably close embrace and asked: “So what are you in for, homegirl?” needlessly saying the last bit in an ‘urban” tone. For Sin, it was Christmas to have a non-white cellmate. 

Mattie caught her tone and was uncomfortable with it, but she answered. "Murder, property damage, being a living WMD...the usual." She couldn’t afford to sound weak. 

“Who’d you kill?” Sin pushed. Not that she was surprised that…”someone like her”…killed someone, but in a prison full of murderers she wanted to know if she did anything that stood out.

"Guy's name was Ezekiel Sims. He was like Spider-Man on steroids, and he was tryna kill me and my friends because he had a vision of us killing him...guess it was kinda self-fulfilling." Mattie repeated the story her and her friends had agreed on in the prisoner transport.

“Do you hear that, Opehlia? Looks like the new girl killed Spider-Man on steroids…” Sin said with clearly fake amazement.

Viper grinned. “Wow…so you’re pretty fucking tough, huh?” 

"Yeah...Yeah I am. I got tough friends in here too." Mattie hoped she sounded convincing. She didn’t. 

“Tough friends? Want to tell us who they are?” Sin questioned. It looked like Hydra was about to have four new girls to claim.

“Just so we know who to avoid” Viper added. 

“I'll be with them in the yard tomorrow." Mattie replied, a little guardedly. "And yeah...it would be a bad idea to fuck with us."

Sin found her new black cellmate amusing. “We’ll be sure to stay far away from you. Right, Ophelia?”

“Of course”

Sin leaned in closer to Mattie and asked in a hushed tone: “Just asking cellmate to cellmate, was this Ezekial white?” 

"Huh? I...no, I don't think so. Why?" The question, besides being stupid, made Mattie uncomfortable. She’d heard stories about racial divides in prison, and that question didn’t bode well.

“Just was curious is all. Can’t blame a girl like me for wondering.” Sin shrugged. To her it was just a harmless question after all.

One awkward moronic question went by just for another to come up. This time Viper asked: “Are you a dyke?”

"Huh? Why would you...no, I'm not a lesbian." Mattie still wanted to ask Sin what she meant by 'a girl like me' but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. 

Viper didn’t allow her time to ask that question though, because she threw out another one. “Ok good. Too many of the women in here are wet for each other, don’t you think?”

"Uh...wouldn't know." Mattie responded, not being familiar with this place yet. She got an obvious homophobic vibe from what Viper said and it slightly irked her. 

“You’ll understand soon enough” Sin smiled. 

Mattie decided to press the point. "So...y’all don't like lesbians

“Lesbians, blacks, trannies, slavs, muties…” Sin began listing a long, seemingly unending, slew of things she didn’t like, using numerous derogatory terms. It was fascinating just how narrow the category of people she did like was. 

Mattie got a shade paler as Sin listed blacks in particular. This was definitely bad. They almost certainly recognised her nervousness...

Mattie’s eyes began to dart around for anything she could use as a weapon to defend herself with.

“Don’t be scared, we won’t hurt you…much” Viper teased. 

"Try anything and you'll regret it..." Mattie warned. She assumed what she imagined to be a defensive posture...based on the couple of hours of YouTube self-defense tutorials she watched in preparation for her superhero career.

Viper grinned as she sarcastically raised her hands in defeat. Mattie’s defence wasn’t convincing in the slightest, but the collar around her neck indicated she must have some sort of power. Viper reasoned it would be wiser to assess what she could do before making her move. 

Mattie laid down on the floor (she wasn’t about to challenge the two HYDRA women for a bed) and did her best to get herself comfortable in a cell she shared with people that absolutely despised her. Sleep naturally didn’t come easy, and, with her eyes shut, she could hear her cellmates retire to their bunks. That seemed like a natural conclusion to things as the lights of the cellblock dimmed into pitch black, but then Sin snapped her fingers and Viper come crawling up to her leader’s bed. Mattie could hear the rustle of clothes coming undone, and then enthusiastic moans pierced over the creaking of their bed.

"Huh?" Mattie couldn’t help but vocalise outloud. She was abstractly aware of the hypocrisy of bigots of course, but this was a more concrete example than she had personally encountered before.

————————————————————— 

Cassandra Webb faired only slight better in who she was locked up with. Instead of two violent Nazis, she got…a bloodthirsty assassin (plus Karen Page)

Cassie stepped nervously into the cell, her arms moving to cover herself. She was acutely aware of how exposed she was in her fishnet dress, and, if she wasn’t, the hoots she got on her way through the cellblock would have made her so. "H-hey..." she greeted her cellmates, blushing. She glanced at them in turn, seeing if any visions were forthcoming.

There were two women laying on the top bunk. The first was an athletic woman with dark olive skin and long dark chestnut hair, Elektra. Nestled against her, laying softly on her heaving chest, was Karen, a tired woman who’s natural beauty was lost underneath too much makeup. 

“Hi!” Elektra said happily as she looked at the strangely dressed gift who’d just been brought to her cell. “What’s with the outfit?”

"Um...It's kind of a long story." Cassie answered, her eyes going over the other women in the cell. "It...one of the guards made it after she saw my arrest on TikTok...her idea of a joke, I think..."

"Weaver?" Karen guessed.

"Yeah."

“What did you do?”

Remembering their agreed story, Cassie explained: "Me and my team killed a supervillain. Knocked him off a building and dropped a Pepsi sign on him. Then several whole squads of SWORD goons showed up to arrest us, and it got recorded." She hoped the prospect of a superpowered team with her would deter any effort to hurt her. 

Elektra stared at Cassie, suddenly a lot less happy about her presence than she was a minute ago. “ You killed a supervillain?” It was a lot tougher than she expected from an inmate so…vulnerable.

“Who was the supervillain?” Karen asked. Even after a year of Elektra’s abuse she still maintained her inquisitive nature.

"His name was Ezekiel Sims." Cassie replied, recalling the cool-sounding name they’d made up on the flight. "He had the powers of Spider-Man...so do the other girls on my team. I just have precognitive abilities, but they'll protect me if they have to."

Elektra was in disbelief. The story sounded absolutely stupid, but so did most of the stories she’d heard. Cassie could be in a Spider-group (Spider-gang?) or she could be lying. Elektra thought it over carefully and decided it was a risk she was willing to take.

Elektra pushed Karen aside and got closer to Cassie. “And how will they protect you without their powers?”

Cassie noticeably shrunk back as the imposing assassin approached her. "Th-they know how to fight..." she tried to warn. 

“So do I.” Elektra threatened. 

Cassie backed up against the bars. "It won't be worth the fight. Trust me." She tried her best to sound more imposing than she looked or felt.

Elektra just kept getting closer, making Cassie back more and more against the bars until she could go no further. Pinned against the wall with nowhere to run, Cassie could only tense up as Elektra’s hand ran through her long brunette hair. “I think a pretty thing like you is more than worth the fight” 

"...What do you want?" Cassie fearfully asked. 

“Not much tonight. All you have to do for now is sleep in my bed, and then tomorrow you’re going to show me your super tough spider-squad. If they’re as formidable as you claim, you’re free to go. If not…”

Cassie had an internal 'oh shit' moment that she knew Elektra could probably see on her face. The best story in the world wouldn’t have been able to cover for their abysmal lack of talent. "Oh...o-okay...sure..." she shifted awkwardly. 

Elektra turned around and climbed up to the top bunk. Eyes set intently on Cassie, she patted the spot where she wanted her to lay down and then undid her jumpsuit until it just barely clung to her waist. Cassie paused when she noticed what she was doing, blushing bright pink, but she went ahead and took her place next to her. She could only lay stiff as a board as Elektra locked her in a suffocating embrace and began intrusively poking her fingers through the gaps of her fishnet dress. All Cassie could do was hope, through some miracle, that her and her friends would somehow be able to seem as tough as they claimed. 

————————————————————— 

Julia was on the verge of screaming out in horror before she even stepped into her cell. The owner of the long mechanical tentacles that clung to the withdrawing bars were immediately recognisable to just about anyone who lived in New York. “C-Can I be assigned a different cell?” she hurriedly asked Renee as they approached.

"Oh, sorry honey, is this room not to your liking? I'm trembling about your bad yelp review." Renee chuckled, shoving her inside and locking the barred door behind her.

Julia looked like a deer caught in headlights as the door clicked shut behind her. She had two cellmates. The first, and more noticeable, was Doctor Olivia Octavious, this world’s variant of Otto Octavious. Although she was a rather skinny woman in her mid forties with wild unkempt hair and strange octagonal glasses, Olivia, much like most of her variants across the multiverse, was a brilliant scientist turned foe of New York, notably having assembled the fearsome Sinister Six. She was also single handedly responsible for unleashing a city-wide outbreak of GR-27, aka Devil’s Breath, an unstable biological weapon with a near 100% mortality rate. 

The second cellmate was Frances Louise Barrison, better known by the name Shriek. Unlike Olivia, she looked terrifying. Her skin was completely, unsettlingly snow-white and a large black diamond tattoo adorned her left eye. Shriek was the Bonnie to Cletus Kasady’s Clyde, the fairer half of their murderous duet. Together they were the most feared serial killers of the modern age, infamous for unspeakable acts of grim depravity. 

Olivia smiled, amused at the newcomers' clear terror of her, while Shriek silently sat on her bunk and watched. Left in peace to play with the new fish, Olivia’s tentacles moved gently around Julia, not quite touching her, but surrounding her.

"Well now, sweetheart...that's hardly a nice way to greet your new cellie, is it?" She asked with a smirk.

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I-It’s just you’re…” Julia failed to find words that wouldn’t  make things worse. Everything in her wanted to turn back and run to the bars to cry for help, but even she knew that would be pointless. With the tentacles around her, she hadn’t even had a chance to notice the other woman present.

Olivia grinned wider, and leaned in, her face mere inches from the newcomer's. "Go on. I'm...what?" She clearly was having immense fun watching Julia squirm.

“You’re a…very…intelligent supervillain” Julia jumped towards flattery in hopes she’d let her go.

Olivia paused for a long beat...and then threw back her head with laughter. "Oh, my dear girl...flattery is a good instinct in a place like this. So is general submission."

Her tentacles shepherded Julia further into the cell, then parted to reveal her to Shriek.

"Strip." Olivia commanded. "I want to see what we're working with."

“I-I don’t really want to…maybe w-we can do something else?” Julia felt compelled to at least try and show that she was in fact against this. She looked at Shriek and, despite the serial killer’s very ominous appearance, Julia mentally begged that maybe she would help. “A-And she probably doesn’t want me to strip…I just was searched and I’m kinda sweaty still from the costume I was wearing s-so this really isn’t a good time”

"I want you to strip." Shriek clarified, not revealing anything else as she crossed her legs on the bunk and waited for the show to begin.

Julia stammered for some other excuse since Shriek, predictably, agreed with Olivia. “Ok…well I s-should probably mention that I’m part of a really tough group of superheroes and we all just arrived. I-If you make me strip we’ll…fight back a-and believe me, you don’t want to know what happened to our last supervillain…” Her threat was about as fear-inducing as a baby elephant. “We actually all have spider-powers so…”

Shriek’s eyes met with Olivia's and they both chuckled. "Go on, then. What happened to your last villain?"

“We dropped a big sign on a villain named Ezekiel Sims, who also had Spider-Man powers …oh and the sign maybe electrocuted him” Julia mixed up real events and the agreed upon alibi.

Olivia grinned. "Oh really? Spider-Man powers? You you have those too?"

“Yeah! They actually call me Spider-Woman” they actually being just herself and the other Arachachicks.

“And how did you come by those?" Shriek asked dryly.

“We were bitten by a radioactive spider. Well except Cassie who’s a mutant and can see the future” Julia replied. She actually stole the spider from Oscorp but that detail wasn’t important. 

Shriek met Olivia's eyes, silently asking what to do next. Olivia considered the matter. The girl wasn’t exactly convincing, and her story more than a little ridiculous...but so were multiple stories of prisoners in The Raft (including her own) that she knew to be true. And if she was telling the truth, she didn’t want to incur the simultaneous wrath of three spider-women and a psychic.

“Strip." Olivia repeated the command. "...But for now, that's all you will be called upon to do."

“W-What do you mean ‘for now?’” Julia nervously asked, terrified by what could possibly be worse.

"Well, if tomorrow it transpires that you do have a powerful gang of superpowered women backing you up, then we're equals in this cell. If, however, you're lying..." Olivia’s smile was menacing as she let Julia’s mind finish that sentence with whatever implications.

Julia gulped at the implication, based on her experience with the guards earlier, before she started to undress. Compared to her costume, the jumpsuit was remarkably easy to take off. The zipper lowered and then her outfit went tumbling to the ground. She didn’t bother covering herself. “I’m leaving my underwear on...please”

Her plea was ignored as Shriek’s eyes lit up at the costume falling away and Julia’s well-endowed breasts being revealed. She licked her lips, not caring if Julia noticed.

"No." Olivia replied simply. "Strip means everything."

Julia of course noticed Shriek’s reaction and she couldn’t stop herself from asking a question while she reluctantly lowered her underwear. “We’re all women here. Shouldn’t we be above objectifying each other?”

Shriek only laughed. The new girl was hilarious. "First time in prison, huh?"

“Yes” Julia nodded in defeat. She’d managed to be stripped of her dignity not once, not twice, but on three separate occasions in one day. This was the worst day of her life.

"Well, in a place like this, female solidarity isn't exactly in fashion. You either take or be taken." Shriek got up, as if to fondle her, but was held back by a tentacle.

"Now now, Frances...let's wait to test her claims first. If she's lying...there'll be plenty of time to enjoy her." Olivia chided. 

Julia sighed in relief at the last minute save. She really hoped the other three were doing well because her cellmate experience told her they were doomed. “Which bed is mine?” She noticed there were only two beds but three people.

“Well, I guess you have two options...Sleep on the floor, or cuddle up with one of us..." Olivia offered, but she wasn’t even able to finish the sentence before Julia interrupted: 

“But the floor is so dirty!” She complained. 

"Well, then..." Olivia grinned, gesturing to her bunk with a dramatic flourish.

“Nevermind…I-I think I prefer the floor” Julia tried to back out of something her own habit of focusing on the wrong thing signed her up for. Thankfully for her, rather than trying to force the issue, Olivia let her go to the floor, figuring she’d probably get the opportunity to set things straight later.

————————————————————— 

Last in the group, Anya was just now arriving at her cell. She noted that it was only a few cells down from where Cassie had been taken, but it still felt like they were as distant as could possibly be. Anya winced with every step closer to the cell she took, still hurting from Renee spanking her. It took her a while to notice the woman in the shadows of her cell, obscured as she carefully assessed the newcomer. “Uh hi” Anya greeted shyly. 

"Hello." her cellmate greeted, her thick Russian accent a perfect monotone that revealed no emotion whatsoever. "What are you in for?”

“I was part of a group with spider-powers and we killed a supervillain named Ezekial Sims by dropping a sign on him. What about you?” Anya replied in a way that didn’t at all sound rehearsed.

Her cellmate was silent for a long moment. "Most people don't reply so specifically to that question." she said, not outright accusing her of anything, but heavily implying it to see if the newcomer would dig herself deeper.

“Oh…well…uh…I’m not most people” Anya tried to quip.

The woman stood up out of the shadows, letting Anya get a good look at her, and shaking out her flowing silver hair. Her cellmate, it turned out, was Silvija Sablinova, aka Silver Sable. Born a princess of the Eastern European nation of Symkaria, her family was killed during the rise of a brutal dictator and she was presumed dead. Orphaned and alone, destined to die if anyone knew her true identity, she was taken in by the Red Room and grew up to be a highly skilled mercenary. 

"I'm here because I know things my former employer, Norman Osborn, doesn't want widely known, and he has political friends in SWORD." She replied as she began circling Anya slowly, like a shark.

“Oh…one of my friends used to work for Oscorp…” Anya tried to hold up a conversation with someone that was getting increasingly more terrifying to be confined with.

"Don't care." Silver Sable said dismissively. "Have you been to prison before?"

“No” Anya said meekly, feeling as if her circles around her were drawing closer and closer.

"You seen prison movies? You know what terms 'mommy' and 'bitch' mean in here?"

“N-No” Anya took a step back, but was stopped when Sable put a hand to her back to arrest her movement.

 "Doesn't matter. Get naked. Now."

Anya went wide-eyed, she hadn’t even been in her cell for two minutes and already she was being asked to strip naked. “No way!” 

Sable’s response to being told “no” was quick and effective. She grabbed a fistful of Anya’s hair, and yanked her up onto tiptoes. "Sure about that?"

Anya squealed as she was pulled up by the roots of her hair by the very strong woman.  “Ok Ok…I’ll do it…”

The response was enough because Sable let her go.

Anya turned around to avoid having to make eye contact with the scary Russian/Symkarian mercenary as she was forced into doing the humiliating act, but it really only made for a more exciting unintentional strip-tease. How this could possibly be allowed was beyond Anya. She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to think of anything else, while she very slowly undid her jumpsuit.

Silver Sable watched and smirked. "So that stuff about being in a baddass spider-team...all bullshit, or just mostly?"

“What? No it’s all true! I promise” Anya insisted but it just came out as really whiny. The zipper reached the bottom and there was little she could do to stop her jumpsuit from falling to the floor.

Sable chuckled. "Oh, da. Very believable. Group of heroes I've never heard of kill villain I've never heard of by dropping sign on him, then says in very clearly rehearsed way." she moved in front of Anya then pointedly moved her chin to face her.  "The truth. In all. Now."

“Please I’m telling you the truth…” Anya’s heart was racing as she started to think maybe their cover story wasn’t as good as they had thought. Sable’s breath felt hot in her face, her grip around her painfully tight. Anya realised she was so screwed. 

​​Sable grabbed her ass, and chuckled as she winced in pain. "Someone's recently been spanked." she observed. "And about to get another." She dragged Anya to the bunk and positioned her over her knee, waiting a moment to see if Anya would give anything up.

“You don’t have to do this!” Anya pleaded like she was about to kill her, not give a simple spanking. She vacillated between trying to be brave and push through this in order to save herself now, or admit what she wanted and likely doom herself. Her ass was so sore, she couldn’t go through that again. To her credit, it wasn’t until she was leaned over Sable’s lap ,her hand raised in preparation to give a devastating blow, that Anya relented. “Ok y-you’re right. I lied! I had to though! Please don’t spank me!”

"Truth. In full. Now." Sable repeated her demand from before. She maintained a good poker-face, but she was privately amazed at how easy that was. 

“One of my friends has visions of the future and me and the other two have spider powers, which we thought we’d use to try to be superheroes. Well the vision told her that there was a manager at a nearby Pepsi cannery  committing wage-theft and so we tried to swing in and stop him, but the place exploded and one of the signs fell off the roof and crushed a pedestrian…or it electrocuted him. I’m not really sure. But it was really embarrassing because everyone was watching us get arrested and it went viral apparently. While coming here my friend had another vision where bad things happen to us because we’re not tough and so we made up a story” Anya tearfully relayed the entire story quickly, letting words slip out in rapid succession. “…But you don’t want to do anything to me, right? Y-You seem nice” she added. 

For a long pause Silver Sable was too amused by the story to do anything. "That's...almost as bizarre as the made up story. But I don't think you're making this up."

“So you’re not going to spank me?” Anya asked cautiously

"Not now." Sable replied, letting go. "You are mine, though."

“Thank you- wait I’m what?” Anya was going to thank her for sparing her, but then she added…that

"Mine. My petúx, if you know that word. Bitch if you do not."

“What? No! I won’t” Anya objected. 

“And you propose to stop me...how exactly?" Sable asked with a smile.

“Well…I…uh. Please don’t” 

Sable stood up, and folded her arms, exuding an effortless menace born of years as a mercenary and over a year in prison. "What are you?" she asked coldly.

Anya backed away slowly but there was nowhere she could go. She was trapped in a tiny cell with a deranged lesbian! “You can’t! This has to be against a rule or something…” Anya had only been in prison an hour and she already knew the rules were far too lacking to prohibit this, but it was worth an attempt.

Sable lowered her arms and advanced towards Anya, effortlessly shoving her against the wall. "What are you?"

“I won’t say it!” Anya cried out. 

With a roll of her eyes, Sable pulled her back to the bunk, sat down and positioned her over her knee…again. 

“This is ridiculous! Please I’ll do anything you want if you make someone else your bitch” 

Without further ceremony, Sable began spanking her ass hard and fast, alternating from cheek to cheek. Anya wasn’t sure if it felt like it hurt more with Sable because she was already sore or if Sable was more skilled at it. It didn’t matter either way though because Anya was currently lost in a stream of agonised tears. The repeated impact of Sable’s hand against the soft, cherry-red flesh of Anya’s butt was deafening. 

When the volley of smacks concluded, Sable asked the question again. "What are you?"

“Y-Your bitch” Anya cried over her searing behind. 

Sable delivered another smack. "Close. Try again."

“W-What do you want me to say?” Anya couldn't think over the extreme pain. 

Sable sighed. "You're kinda stupid, aren't you, petúx?"

“I-I don’t speak Sokovian” Anya managed to answer the rhetorical question without trying to.

Sable rolled her eyes and delivered another 12 spanks in quick succession. Anya’s screams echoed down the cellblock but no one cared. "It's Russian, petúx. Now what are you?"

“I-I’m your…I’m your petúx” Anya said through pained gasps. She had genuinely lost count of how many times she’d been spanked today. 

"Good." Sable said, shoving Anya off her knee. "Now, notice how you're in the exact same position you would be in if you had submitted 20 minutes ago, but with a sore bottom. Remember this next time you think of defying me."

Anya lacked the self-reflection to see how the situation paralleled her intake and how her response to both made things worse for herself. She would surely be back in this scenario soon. “N-Now what will you do with me?” she nervously asked while rubbing her aching ass.

Sable examined her naked body with an analytical eye. "You ever been with a woman? Ever licked pussy?"

Anya felt deeply uncomfortable at Silver Sable’s gaze at her bare body. Even more so than she did with the guards, but she didn’t know why. “No! I’m not a lesbian!” she said vehemently before adding “…but there’s nothing wrong if you are” out of fear of insulting her again.

Sable grinned. "You'll learn...but not right now. See...you and your friends...your story 

will crash and burn in spectacular fashion...and I want you to still be fairly innocent when that happens because it will be funny."

She went to the top bunk. "For tonight, do as you like. First night after you are found out, your pussy licking experience begins."

Anya didn’t even know what to say as the fear of having to bring her face anywhere near such an awful person’s crotch filled her with abject horror and disgust…and arousal. She chalked the last feeling up to being a result of not having been with anyone in a while and for some reason being triggered. The simplest answer just wasn’t something she thought of. 

Anya tried laying on the bottom bunk, but no matter what angle she slept at, her rear burned. She simply couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep. Still not allowed to get dressed again anyways, she saw a possible solution. It wasn’t very dignified but she had to make the pain stop. That’s why she fumbled out of bed and staggered herself over to the cold metal toilet of the cell, exhaling as the pressure stung but then the chill relieved some of the pain.

Silver Sable watched with some amusement at her petúx's effort to ease her pain, but didn't comment on it. Anya was very cute. With some training and discipline she'd be the most popular girl in the showers…

Chapter Text

It wasn’t even 4 PM yet and already the foolhardy spider-themed inmates all unanimously decided that this was in fact the worst day of their lives (not yesterday as they had believed not 12 hours prior). Breakfast had been awful, and served by the Scarlet Witch no less (who Anya managed to accidentally insult, resulting in her being served far less food than everyone else). The work in the mines was physically taxing in a way that was completely new to the four girls. It left them weary and aching. Now they were currently sitting in the yard, at last allowed reprieve from their work. Cassie, for one, looked utterly miserable, covering herself as best she could despite the literally transparent mesh that was her "uniform".

Mattie glanced around at the others, visibly exhausted. "We gotta do better than this. Get a better position in the prison hierarchy..."

“How are we supposed to do that?” Julia tiredly asked while she rested her head against the wall and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“The girls in here are stronger than we thought…” Anya chimed in, not having yet told the others that she told Silver Sable everything yet.

"Well, the traditional way is to beat up the biggest girl in the yard." Mattie replied, her experience with prison movies once again coming into play. She glanced in the direction of the green giantess currently being cuffed and led off by the guards, sighing and submitting to the cuffs as Weaver requested her for one of her regular sessions of jump-rope. "...Okay, maybe not her , but the idea is sound." Mattie decided. 

Julia paused and took a quick seated glance around the yard for any other possible targets. “Oh I know what about her?” she excitedly pointed at Elsa Bloodstone….just before she violently attacked a vampire with a weapon in hand and both were dragged away. Elsa had a mad bloodlust in her eyes equal to the vampire’s even as one of the guards tased her in the stomach.

"Huh...You know, maybe we shouldn't be thinking 'big' in the literal scary sense so much as big in the gangsterish sense..." Cassie suggested. 

“What about her?” Anya pointed to a beautiful older woman, Vanessa Fisk, lounging on a bench smoking a cigarette. She recognised her as the wife of New York’s infamous mob-boss mayor, but honestly she didn’t look that scary. At least compared to everyone else around them.

Mattie nodded in agreement. "Yeah...looks cocky, and no collar, which means no powers. I think we can take her."

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Julia questioned. “It seems like a lot of our plans aren’t going well lately.”

"You got a better one?" Mattie asked confrontationally.

Julia meekly slouched back against the wall. “No”

"Okay so...how should we do this?" Cassie asked, feeling kind of confident about this one. They surely had to win at some point, right?

“Maybe one of us could just walk up and punch her and the rest will join in?” Anya suggested. 

Mattie looked at her. "You volunteering?" 

“No way! I vote you go first” Anya quickly said. 

Mattie looked to the others hoping, praying, they’d volunteer but no such luck. She was going to have to begin the confrontation alone. "...Fine, but y'all better have my back." she said as she stood up and approached Vanessa. Her knees were practically wobbling as she padded towards the Queenpin. 

Upon arriving, Vanessa looked Mattie over and sighed boredly. “Do I know you?”

Mattie tried unsuccessfully to look and sound badass and intimidating as she said: “No. But you're about to, bitch”

Vanessa could only smirk at the foolish nerve of whoever dared to call her ‘bitch’. “Touch me and my girls will hold you down on the floor of the showers while you are violated by half the prison.” She threatened in the calmest of tones, making Mattie increasingly unnerved until she faltered and looked to the others for advice, receiving only an unhelpful shrug from Anya. Vanessa saw them and asked “So they are your co-conspirators?” completely unimpressed. 

"Teammates." Mattie corrected, sounding a lot less confident than she intended.

“Right” Vanessa nodded condescendingly. “I think the four of you will earn me a lot” 

"Yeah...we'll earn you a lot...of trouble!" Mattie put as much enthusiasm as possible into the lame quip, and then took an entirely foreseeable swing at her. It would be her only solace because, as Vanessa took the blow with the most grace she could, Maya Lopez silently advanced, landing a very painful kick to Mattie’s lower back with her prosthetic leg. It easily sent Mattie toppling to the ground. 

“Just how stupid must you be to think going after me was ever going to work out any other way than this? You will serve my gang well…” Vanessa taunted Mattie as she was beaten by Maya and the other three were cornered as well. 

Cassie looked for some escape while Julia pleaded. “I don’t know these three! You have to believe me” was the best Anya could come up with. 

Maya turned Mattie over and hit her across the face. Looking up at Vanessa she signed <Again?>. 

Receiving a nod of approval, Maya gave her leader a thumbs up and then struck Mattie again. It was hard enough to make Mattie pathetically plead, “Stop, Stop! I’ll do whatever you want!"

“Whatever I want?” Vanessa repeated what Mattie said, challenging if she truly meant it.

Mattie wasn't thinking of the consequences as she begged: "Yes. Please. Just don't hurt me." 

Vanessa signed for Maya to let her go before commanding Mattie to stand up and take off her jumpsuit immediately. Although Mattie was dazed, she rose to her feet and did just as commanded without pause. She turned her back on Vanessa, inadvertently creating a more tantalising striptease for her, as she shed her jumpsuit, revealing her back, then her ass, then her long, athletic legs. Her jumpsuit fell to the floor faster than she had after being attacked, leaving her, for just a moment, in her underwear in front of the entire yard before doing away with those too. 

The scene of Mattie undressing elicited more than a few whistles and remarks, the focus of the entirety of the yard seemingly on her. Of course Vanessa was completely unfazed, sighing as she sat back down on the bench. Although she did nod in satisfaction at the body of her newest toy. She wasn’t naturally into women, but the desperation of prison life had given her a greater…appreciation…for the feminine form.

Silver Sable, and some other members of the Queenpins, made the Arachnachicks kneel at her side to wait their turn to be inspected by their new boss. As soon as Mattie was dismissed to wait by Maya, Vanessa turned to the three others and ordered them to get up. 

Rising shakily, Cassie began: "Look, we've clearly made a mistake here..." 

But hadn’t even had a chance before Vanessa interrupted:  “Yes you’ve made a big mistake and you will pay dearly for it” 

"...I don't suppose it's worth asking if you'll let the new prison girls off with a warning?" Cassie tried, knowing it probably wouldn’t work. 

She got the expected result as Vanessa only chuckled and said: “No. Now begin stripping for me”

Julia’s eyes went wide with horror, heart beating like a drum in her chest. “You can’t make us do that! We-we’re superheroes with spider-powers! We even killed someone s-so messing with us is a really bad idea” she protested, sharing the agreed upon alibi a little late considering they’d already been beaten up.

Silver Sable chuckled, and addressed Vanessa. "They have some powers, but nowhere near Spider-Man's strength or agility, and they can't fight for der'mo. Also, guy they killed was accident. They drop Pepsi sign on him."

Vanessa nodded and said to Julia “That will be an extra punishment for lying to me”

Cassie, Mattie, and Julia all immediately swung around to look at an increasingly flush looking Anya, silently staring daggers at their easily-breakable friend. “She made me tell her! She threatened to torture me!” Anya attempted to justify but to no response. There was no use. In that moment Cassie bowed her head in exhausted submission and shed her web dress. Then Julia and Anya followed. As all four women stood naked, a crowd of inmates formed, shouting crude appraisals of their bodies and hooting in lusty anticipation for Vanessa's next order.

Vannessa tapped her foot on the concrete ground as she considered who to crudely torment first. Dozens of sadistic ideas went through her mind on how to make them miserable, but ultimately one stood out. “I want the three of you to lay down and form a triangle” Why punish one when she could humiliate three of them? She would have included Mattie too, but she wanted to reserve her for herself at the moment. 

"A...triangle?" Cassie asked, blinking. "Like, heads to feet or..." Then she had a vision of the three of them laid down in a triangle, her mouth at Julia's pussy, Julia's mouth at Anya's pussy and Anya's mouth at her own pussy. "...oh..." Cassie whispered in realisation, blushing. She layed down.

“W-What does she want us to do?” Anya asked quietly to Cassie and Julia, but could tell neither was very fond of her at the moment. Her question would be answered though…just not in the way she wanted because Silver Sable rolled her eyes, took Anya firmly by the shoulders, and positioned her on the ground, pressing her face to Cassie's sex with her body at a 60° angle to Cassie's. She then looked to Julia, trusting she would get the point.

Julia understood. “I-I’m not putting my face…there!” 

“Well I could just have Sable stab you for plotting against me instead” Vanessa offered, sharing a knowing look with Sable who didn't even have a shiv on her. The threat worked though because without another word Julia got on the ground and assumed the position, nuzzling her mouth against Cassie’s unpleasant tasting crotch, while Cassie pressed her face to Julia's pussy, experimentally licking her vulva. The sudden start made Julia gasp, marking Anya’s cue to begin. Hesitantly, she ran her tongue along Cassie’s pussy lips but then began going all in. Sable kicked the still-inactive Julia in the thigh. "What do you wait for? Get going."

“Please don’t make me do this” Julia pleaded with her mouth still just barely not touching Anya. 

Sable of course responded to this by stepping over Julia, and kicking her in the stomach. "Lick, bitch!"

Hearing what was being done to Julia, Cassie began licking her womanhood with more enthusiasm. She hadn’t done this to a woman since college… 

Julia let out a muffled moan at Cassie’s enthusiastic fervour as her lips pressed against Anya’s increasingly wet pussy and then she slowly began licking, finding the whole thing unpleasant. Anya did not share the sentiment as, with Julia having finally begun on her, her already pretty excited pace with Cassie quickly grew even more until she was completely lost in the task. Cassie moaned in turn as Anya worked her over...she seemed to have experience herself. ‘Damn, Winters was dead on with that 'deep in the closet' thing.’ Cassie thought to herself as she began to writhe at her work, redoubling her own efforts with Julia.

With the group currently growing audibly more and more into their punishment, Vanessa decided Mattie had stood by and simply watched long enough. “Come here” she commanded with a snap of her fingers while her other fingers traced along the zipper of her jumpsuit, rubbing against the corner of the silvery pull. It had been nearly five hours since she last had a woman to sexually humiliate. 

Mattie stepped up to Vanessa, looking incredibly nervous...but her eyes also ran along her exposed chest with interest.

“You like what you see?” Vanessa asked. 

"Um...I-w-well...would you be cool if I said yes?"

“I don’t care what you think of it, but yes” Vanessa sounded a little flattered. She’d have been more flattered if Mattie hadn’t punched her a few minutes ago. “It’s good that you like it because this will be your world from now on. You will get to know every intimate detail of it” the mob boss said a little narcissistically as she extended her right hand out expectantly. 

Mattie didn’t really know what she wanted at first, staring at the extended hand with confusion. Not wanting to ask out of fear of further punishment, she simply did what first came to mind when dealing with the head of a criminal empire. She got on her knee and kissed Vanessa’s hand. That was clearly what she wanted as Vanessa took her hand back and then she opened the front of her jumpsuit to fully expose her tits. “Now kiss them,” she commanded. 

"Yes ma'am..." Mattie didn’t know why she called her that but it felt right. She crouched and took her right nipple into her mouth, sucking softly and licking it in a tender kiss. Vanessa let out a stimulated sigh. Her lips were soft against her hardened nipple. Mattie was already far more tender than most she claimed. Mattie noted her reaction and did the same to her left nipple. "...Was that good?" she asked, not sure why she suddenly cared about this woman's approval. 

“It was…acceptable” Vanessa hesitated on giving her too much approval, especially on her first day. Mattie nodded, evidently craving more approval, and inadvertently advertising herself as the ideal prison bitch.

Vanessa felt her lips press a little further into her chest and she nodded. Honestly, Mattie was doing really well before, but Vanessa did like how she craved the approval of her new prison mommy. She thought to herself about how most people she put into a non-consensual position like hers lacked a certain…work ethic.

Cassie shuddered to orgasm under Anya's surprisingly skilled efforts, and worked on getting Julia there. ‘Come the fuck on, Julia, let's get this done’ she whispered, pressing further. Julia was the slowest to get there, having not yet climaxed as Anya was well on her way to a third. Julia obviously couldn’t hear what Cassie said over Anya’s ear-piercingly wild moans and the jeers of the crowd but by that point she felt a sort of pressure to have to cum just because she  assumed they’d be done if she did. She stopped licking Anya and shut her eyes, trying to imagine whatever straight scenario she could to get off. Unfortunately her mind was too distracted by thoughts of her current situation…and then the kick to the side from Silver Sable.

"No slacking, bitch, keep licking!" Sable barked. For Julia it was like being back on the chain gang in the mine again, except so much worse! She resumed licking while trying to picture something straight. Anything straight even. It took a painfully long time but, finally, with a gasp she climaxed.

With the trio done, Vanessa ordered Mattie off of her and then I lit another cigarette, a habit she’d picked up in prison. Taking a long drag from it she considered what to do with her four new bitches next. There was a long silent pause where her gang waited for her next words. At last she finished and then she commanded her toys: “Stand on that table.” 

Mattie obeyed without hesitation, though her hands moved to cover herself as she stood in front of the hungry eyes of all the prisoners. Anya followed, looking blissful now that she’d lived out one of her deeply private recurring sex dreams about Julia. Cassie and Julia were last to get on the table and neither looked all too thrilled. 

Vanessa nodded at the underling most suitable for this next bit, Felicia Hardy, better known by her thief name ‘Black Cat.’ Resentful for her incarceration at the hands of her ex-boyfriend Spider-Man, calling Felicia a jealousy crazed psychopath was an understatement. She’d made it her goal in prison to make sure his harem of other “inferior” girlfriends (Mary Jane Watson, Gwen Stacy, Michelle Watson, and Liz Allan) were far more miserable behind bars than she was. At her cruel whims, they had been sold out, forced to sell and/or hide drugs, or framed for random infractions that she committed more times than she cared to count. Since the five of them shared a single cell, she also even determined simple things like whether or not they were allowed to masturbate, the answer was a hard never because she enjoyed seeing them sexually frustrated. There was simply no member of the Queenpins better suited for the upcoming event than her. She was their #1 source of cigarettes in the sex-trade market after all.

Felicia grinned at Vanessa and then gladly stepped in front of the four women on the table, looking them over now that they were in full view for her amusement. “Hands to your side, cutie. I want to see all of you” she purred to Mattie. Next she moved on to Cassie and rudely said: “I think I liked you more with the web dress on” She believed it was best to make them feel bad about themselves before selling them out. 

Cassie shifted awkwardly. "I could put it back on." she mumbled.

“No” Felicia answered roughly. She didn’t have much to say about Anya, there wasn’t much to say that her own friends probably wouldn’t express for her exposing their lie. Lastly at Julia she simply said: “I think you still have some of your friend’s cum on your lip” which made Julia quickly try to wipe it off.

With her personal assessment out of the way, Felicia returned to Mattie and began pitching her to the yard. “As you all can see, this first one is clean shaven, huge bonus, and what she lacks in tits she more than makes up with her ass. Plus she’s an eager little bitch who wants to please.” Felicia gestured her hand along her smooth crotch for the first item and then she expected her to turn around and show off her butt. Mattie looked at her, absolutely mortified...but meekly turned around, showing her generous backside to the crowd with only a humiliated whimper of protest. Felicia slapped her butt as if to drive home her point to the audience. “See, not even an attempt at refusing” 

Before we continue with what happened at the auction, we must briefly go over The Raft’s cigarette economy (exciting I know). Let's assume that a single cigarette is fairly rare and valuable, but not so much so that it would be prohibitive to rent a girl in the shower. One cigarette would be the asking price for a normal bitch, three for one that was generally considered above average in features, and five for either an exceptional cutie, or a bitch who is notorious in some way (e.g. an Avenger or goddess). With that out of the way, we may now return to the story. 

From the crowd came the first sounds from the horrifically scarred lips of Taskmaster, once Antonia Dreykov. "Starting bid?" she called out, already bored with Felicia's customary theatrics.

“Let’s see…mostly unused new girl, nice ass, shaven, fairly attractive…two cigarettes is the starting bid” Felicia responded.

Proxima Midnight raised her hand immediately. 

Viper nudged Sin. "A black on the auction block. All is right with the world." The awfully unfunny joke elicited a dry chuckle out of Sin.  

Karli Morganthau raised her hand, thinking she could gain favour for getting Mattie for Sin. It didn’t exactly go to plan as Sin immediately slapped Karli’s hand and demanded she not raise it again under penalty of losing a finger. 

Felicia smirked. “Anyone else? Going once. Going twice…” 

Oliva Octavious raised her hand (one of her extra arms) before the count was done. "Three." 

“Sold to the woman with eight limbs!” Felicia yelled as Mattie looked down, utterly humiliated. Felicia gripped Mattie’s leg and practically pulled her off the table. 

“I hear she’s really rough with her tentacles” the cat burglar whispered into her ear tauntingly.

"C-can I get dressed now?" Mattie asked nobody in particular.

“No. You can’t” Felicia answered Mattie’s question with glee before moving on to the next person. Presenting Cassie with dramtic flourish, Felicia said: “The leader of their incompetent little bunch, she was the first to submit to that triangle act. With all of the features of our last girl but without the nice ass, the starting rate on this one is one cigarette.”

"One‽" Cassie asked incredulously.

“Sorry, babe. I don’t make the rules” Felicia shrugged. 

Just like that the first bet came in, a raised claw from X-23…who then received a look from Jean Grey who also wanted to bid. 

"Seriously? Nobody else?" Cassie muttered, surprised at how much her low price upset her. 

Elektra Natchios raised her hand. “Two”

Jean Grey frowned. Not wanting to spend three cigarettes on a bitch...she raised her hand. "I bid the use of my bitch." giving Vanessa a look, letting her judge the value of that herself.

“The use of the witch for this bitch?” Vanessa asked, sounding very intrigued by the deal. “Accepted” she ruled. 

Jean nodded with characteristic dispassion, not even caring what Wanda thought of the deal. She found it amusing how Elektra scowled at her, knowing there was no way she could top the offer of an Avenger. 

“Jean!” Wanda weakly protested, giving her a pleading glance. 

The Phoenix took control of Jean and responded: "It's a simple calculation. 3 cigarettes are an expense to me. Your time for an evening isn't. Simple arithmetic, don't take it personally."

Wanda’s eyes flickered a scarlet shade, but only for a moment. She knew better than to try and argue with her girlfriend. It only ever made things worse. 

Cassie looked from Cat, to Vanessa, to her apparent buyer, wondering what she was supposed to do next. Her question was answered when Felicia shoved her off the table.

Watching from the walkway above, Officer Renee took a bite of her apple, smirked, and turned to Weaver. "Wow, those girls sure are in trouble..."

“Yeah…that’s not a surprise” Weaver replied while leaning on the railing, entirely entranced in the sequence down below.

"Think we should do something?" Renee asked, already knowing the answer.

Weaver looked at her sardonically. “What do you think?”

Renee took another bite. "I think this is clearly a suspicious gathering of inmates, and some of the cuter- I mean...more suspicious ones, should be taken for interrogation afterwards." 

“Yeah it would just be unprofessional to not search them in depth,” Weaver grinned, watching as Felicia pulled Julia’s arms to her side, having to wrestle with her to get her to show everyone her buxom bosom. 

“Do I even need to pitch this one? She basically sells herself” Felicia laughed. “Starting bid is 3 cigarettes because I mean look at her” she said as she went behind her and squeezed her breasts. One of the perks of the job. 

Proxima Midnight’s arm shot up but was ignored as Sylvie Laufeydottir did the same, indicating with her fingers a bid of four. 

“Really, her?” Darcy Lewis murmured a little too loudly, receiving a judging look from Jane Foster. 

Sylvie shrugged. "I have a weakness for busty slavegirls." The Shieldmaiden nomenclature was to use 'slave' rather than 'bitch.'

Just as Sylvie thought it was over, Natasha Romanoff raised her hand. “Four” the Black Widow bid with a sly smile. 

Sylvie groaned but wasn’t about to lose her sought after slave, upping her bid to five. 

“Think of it this way, you’re worth as much as an Avenger” Felicia whispered to the terrified Julia. 

“Wait really?” Julia asked quietly, sounding starkly less upset for a second

“Yep” Felicia nodded…just before shoving her off the table. “Alright she goes to the Goddess of Mischief”

Smiling at the acquisition, Sylvie turned to Valkyrie. "I want her. Permanently. Find a way to make it happen."

Valkyrie nodded. “Ok…know who her cellmates are?” She would get Sylvie the big-breasted Midgardian no matter what, just who she would be taking from her did determine how simple a task it would be.

“I’ll find out this evening” Sylvie replied

“Before or after you kiss her tits?” Darcy asked with jealousy. Sylvie ignored her but made a mental note to spank her for her snarkiness later. 

“And for our last girl…” Felicia forcefully spun Anya around to give everyone a nice view of her “…whoever buys her will have the extreme honour of being the first to break in the worst closeted lesbian I’ve ever met. Two cigarettes is the starting bid”

“I’m not a lesbian!” was what Anya chose to focus on. 

Shuri grabbed Riri Williams’, her girlfriend, hand and raised it in the air. Riri turned to Shuri and mouthed “we’re doing this ?” Put on the spot she quickly vocalised her offer. “Ok uhh three cigarettes!”

Shuri shrugged. “She's clearly out of her depth, and needs some friendly influences to ease her into accepting who she is.” she explained, trying her best to ignore the stare Okoye gave her that said she was trying her best to not tell the princess off for making the Wakandan royal family look bad by adapting to prison life so well. 

Determined to win something at the auction, Proxima Midnight raised her hand. "Four."

“Four? I bet a pack for her” Came an elegant voice from the back. Everyone turned to see who had spoken but none were surprised upon her discovery. Emma Frost was leaning against the wall boredly looking down at her well-polished nails. A high ranking member of The Sisterhood, she once was the White Queen of the prestigious Hellfire Club, secretly infamous for her annual superhero orgies. But now she was serving 129 life sentences for various charges tied to running a human-trafficking ring for the elite. In prison she’d managed to build something of a sex cult where only a few handpicked inmates were given the “honour” of being dominated by her. When she saw Anya she simply knew she wanted to gag her with her own underwear, tie her down to a bed, and whip her arse with a stolen guard’s belt until she no longer had the breath to plead for mercy. 

Shuri raised her hand to match Emma’s, accepting the mounting challenge and completely giving up the pretence of doing it through Riri. "One pack and one cigarette."

“Two and a half packs” Emma upped her offer, sounding a little more interested. 

“This escalated fast” Felicia remarked in slight astonishment. A bidding war had broken out between two of The Raft’s wealthiest inmates. Already the war surpassed the actual value of Anya, but there was no going back. 

As if the battle was not ferocious enough, Natasha Romanoff entered the bidding fray with an offer of three packs.

“Three packs and two cigarettes” Shuri upped her offer, followed by Emma who did the same. 

“Three packs and six cigarettes” Natasha attempted. 

“Four packs” her sister Yelena suddenly chimed in, bidding against her sibling for no real reason other than to annoy her. 

Natasha looked at her sister in confusion “What the hell? You don’t even have that much”

“I know. But you do” Yelena chuckled. 

“I’m not giving you that,” Natasha stated irritably. 

Yelena gave her a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’ 

Shuri grimaced. Riri and her had five packs and a few loose cigarettes total saved up without taking from any other members of the gang. Knowing Riri would tan her hide for it, the Wakandan princess went all in. 

“Five packs?!” Riri asked aloud in disbelief. “You’re so paying for that later”

"I know." Shuri replied, accepting whatever punishment may come. She looked to Emma, trying to stare her down while silently praying to the Ancestors that she didn’t call her bluff.

Being furiously fought over by a crowd of beautiful women wasn’t causing Anya to have any confusing feelings at all.

Emma Frost scoffed in annoyance. “Fine then I offer four packs, five cigarettes, and the same as Jean, the use of any member of my harem” she looked to Vanessa for approval. 

“Same offer but with Pepper” Natasha re-entered by serving up Pepper Potts as a sacrificial lamb. 

The response would be disappointing though as Vanessa smirked and said: “A member of your harem? At most they are only worth two cigarettes. Pepper is worth three. Unless either of you have a better offer the item goes to Shuri”

Both Natasha and Emma knew they were beat. 

“Holy shit we won!” Riri said a little too enthusiastically considering Emma Frost was giving them a death stare. “But yeah you’re being spanked for that”

"Fully accepted." Shuri said, glancing at Anya. “Look at her. She's clearly figuring herself out. You remember that, right? She needs friendly guides, not an abusive psycho. Plus, she is very attractive..." she shrugged.

In the end, Anya couldn’t help but be a bit flattered over the battle that had been fought over her. It was an amazing feeling that she forgot as soon as she was shoved off the table. As Felicia stepped down from the table and the crowd started to disperse back to their usual yard activities, guards above ordered everyone to remain still as others entered the yard and apprehended a few of the more “suspicious” prisoners. Just about everyone knew this was completely an excuse used by the head guards to get a chance to intimately search whoever they were in the mood for. Mattie, despite standing on a table naked for most of her time in the yard, was cuffed alongside a few others; Emma Frost, Sin, Sylvie, Jean Grey, and Black Cat. The other Arachnachicks were left in the yard to await their dispersal in the showers that awaited them tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

“You four better do your best for your clients.” Vanessa Fisk said to the Arachnachicks, who were carefully being escorted by members of The Queenpins into the showers where their buyers waited with much anticipation. It was the morning after the ordeal in the yard and to say the four incompetent heroines were sleep deprived was a vast understatement. 

"Yes mommy!" Mattie Franklin quickly said, sounding somewhat sincere in her enthusiasm.

It was enthusiasm that clearly wasn’t matched by Julia, who said: “I can’t believe you’re making us do this. This is basically human trafficking!” It was an attempt (and failed one at that) to make Vanessa feel bad. Which was met by a predictable “I don’t care” from the queenpin of crime before she gave them an expectant look for them to strip naked.

Julia didn’t bother further resisting, shaking nervously while she fumbled with the zipper of her jumpsuit. She’d learned what she could about who exactly bought her and wasn’t exactly calm about the idea of serving Thor’s evil sibling. 

Undressing barely made a difference for Cassie given her "uniform" but she did so anyway, with a downwards look, because she had seen what every other act entailed. Removing what little she wore she caught a glimpse of how fast Anya shed her underwear and couldn’t help but blush. 

Mattie took off her property-marked panties and then looked around for Doc Ock. As soon as she turned to find her, a tentacle abruptly grabbed Mattie by the shoulder and dragged her along into the showers. Mattie gave a surprised little yelp as she was grabbed, but walked with her without complaint. Not bothering to slow her pace as they passed rows of quickly occupied showerheads, Olivia Octavious pondered aloud: “I wonder if you’ll be better at this than your friend” referring to the previous night’s long session of herself and Shriek sharing Julia back and forth. 

"Or 'hello' as some people say." Mattie said snarkily, trying to relieve the tension.

“It seems the need to make obnoxious quips is a must for spider-people” Olivia noted, moving Mattie in front of herself and shoving her against the tiled wall.

"Oh..." Mattie moaned slightly as Olivia took charge. Her cheeks burned and she was wet between her legs even before the shower water started to flow. Her legs were spread with two arms, one coiled behind her head, and then the last prosthetic one gripped her ass with a not-so-gentle squeeze 

Olivia ran her fingers along Mattie’s wet pussy and said: “You’re more into this than I anticipated” 

"You're very...direct. That's hot." Mattie explained. 

Olivia only looked at her with mild amusement, pushing a finger up her and stroking her clit in circular motions that were just the right level of rough "Oh...ooooohhh..." Mattie moaned and gasped. She knew she’d be made to serve her shortly, but was in no hurry to cut this short.

Mattie’s back arched back as one of Olivia’s tentacles released her ass and instead found its way up her bum. Anxiously Mattie shifted her balance, but no amount of squirming made it feel less weird. It doubtlessly hurt, but she felt far more into it than she had when she’d first arrived. She didn't process her mixed feelings on it for long though because Olivia withdrew her hand from her sex and immediately allowed a tentacle to take its place, now penetrating both of Mattie’s holes. 

Mattie gasped at the invasion, her own body betraying her with a shudder of pure pleasure mixed with pain. Olivia leaned in close again, her tongue tracing along the tip of her ear. "You don’t have a quip for me now, do you?” she teased, beginning to thrust her arms slowly inside Mattie. The sensation was overwhelming

Olivia kept her going, getting her closer and closer until Mattie was just on the verge. Suddenly the tentacle flitted out of Mattie with an unsatisfying, clinical precision and she watched as Olivia brought the tip of the appendage that had just been inside her pussy up to her mouth. She gave it a lick and then made a show of sucking on the end of it.

“Make my three cigarettes worth it and I’ll consider letting you finish” She coldly commanded. In turn, without a word, Mattie sank to her knees, and began giving her a highly motivated round of oral sex.

Olivia moaned, leaning under the hot stream of water as Mattie buried her face, hands on her thighs, and pressed deeply in there, her tongue flickering fast. Shutting her eyes in complete bliss and flailing her arms the more she got into it, Olivia couldn’t help but admit that, of the women she’d paid for sex since the beginning of her incarceration, Mattie was better than most. She was truly determined to make her cum.

————————————————————— 

It was just as Julia lowered her underwear and raised her head that she spotted Sylvie, accompanied by her council of Asgardians and slaves, crossing the room like a (very naked) royal procession. From her strut alone, you'd think Sylvie was dressed in royal finery, as opposed to…well…just her smile alone. She was flanked by Darcy, Jane and Ravonna, who she directed to their various assignments before turning her attention to the beautiful Spider-woman. "Good morning." The Goddess greeted her, her polite tone dissonant with her immediately grabbing Julia’s tits.

Julia flinched at Sylvie kneading her boobs so abruptly. “Oh u-uh g-good morning” she stammered. 

Sylvie moved beside her, slipping her arm around the frightened hero and unsubtly feeling up her thigh as she walked her into the shower. Julia let out a sort of mousy squeak as she grabbed her in a tight embrace and led her forward. With her eyes shut, they progressed through the crowd of showering inmates before they stopped. "I assume this is your first time in prison? You have those unique new-girl nerves." She led her under a shower head.

“Y-Yes, your highness. Do I call you that? Your Highness.” Julia asked, eyes still shut.

"Your Majesty is the official honorific, but I'm not overly picky about it." Sylvie pressed her against the tiled wall and got right back to fondling her breasts. She was seemingly entranced by them. "I didn't catch your name during the auction."

“J-Julia” she answered, breath quivering. She didn’t enjoy the feeling of her touching her at all, but she was softer than she’d expected from someone who attacked a city with an alien army. 

"Mm-hmm...And tell me, Julia, are these delightful breasts natural?" Sylvie questioned, rubbing her big, sensitive-looking nipples as she did so.

Julia nodded in response while gasping at the feeling of her hands caressing her. Naked and close under the stream of water, there was something undeniably sensual about it. 

"Good. One last thing: Who are your cellmates?"

“Th-That octopus woman and a serial killer” Julia didn’t remember their names. It was pretty easy to forget names when they spent the night abusing her and forcing her into sex acts she didn’t even know existed. “T-They made me do things…” Julia also didn’t know why she thought that would gain sympathy from the Goddess of Mischief but she tried anyway. 

"Yeah. That happens to weaker girls in prison." Sylvie said, unconcerned. "Speaking of which." she pressed down on Julia’s shoulder. She was a lot stronger than she looked, being more than capable of pushing Julia down to her knees with less force than it seemed like she was really exerting.

“I-I’m not weak” Julia protested. 

Sylvie only laughed, amused by the assertion. "Really? Alright then. Fight me off. Go ahead. Try.”

Julia stared back blankly. “L-Like right now?”

Sylvie shrugged. "Either that, or get to licking. Up to you."

Rising to a stand on wobbling knees, Julia braced herself for her first proper fight as a superhero. Carefully she assessed just where to strike, wondering what exactly were the weak spots on an Asgardian. Ultimately the jaw seemed like the best bet. Ok but with what force? She’d watched one fight tutorial on Youtube and they said to not exert herself too much on the first swing, but Sylvie seemed a lot stronger than her. 

This long overthinking string of fight analysis seemingly stalled Julia for a few agonising minutes. Finally pumped up with enough adrenaline she took her first swing with all her force…and slipped on the wet tiled floor and fell hard on her butt.

Sylvie couldn’t help but burst into a cackle, and crouched over the fallen heroine's face. Julia tried to let out a cry of protest, but it was immediately cut off by Sylvie’s wet bushy pussy mashing down atop her lips. From this position, Sylvie was facing her torso, allowing her the dual advantage of being able to grope her tits as Julia ate her out. 

Julia gagged as she pushed her tongue out, finding it just as difficult as it was the last two times. Feeling her blonde mane touch her tongue made her writhe, shaking uncontrollably but giving Sylvie a nice show of her jiggling tits.

"Oh yes..." Sylvie said, breathily, Julia's big firm breasts in her hands and her tongue working on her pussy. Despite Julia’s inexperience, the position was very hot to Sylvie. Julia lapped away at the goddess, praying each pass of her tongue would be the one to make her cum so she’d leave her alone.

Sylvie came to a loud, screaming orgasm, completely unashamed of who saw it. She didn’t get off Julia's face though. Julia did her best to spit out her juices, but it did little to end the taste in her mouth. The thought of what happened completely made her skin crawl but at least she was done. Or at least Julia thought she was because she stopped licking despite the goddess not telling her to. She was clearly wrong though because Sylvie pinched both of her nipples hard and asked: "Did I tell you to stop, bitch?" 

The twisting pinch around her nipples made Julia shriek in pain, instinctively recoiling back to look up at her. “N-No…b-but you’re done…”

Sylvie only twisted harder. "You don't decide that."

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Julia cried. 

Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Don't apologise. Work."

Julia nodded obediently and nuzzled her face once more between her thighs, wanting to gag as she started again. She didn’t have to keep at it for long though because, having made her point to her satisfaction, Sylvie let her go for another minute or so then stood up and stepped away unceremoniously, leaving Julia feeling bewildered and dirty inside in the crowded corner of the shower room.

————————————————————— 

Jean Grey approached the brunette beauty she’d bought at the auction, having already handed Wanda to the Queenpins for the shower. Folding her arms, Jean looked the naked psychic up and down.

“Um…hi…I guess” was the best Cassie could come up with, not really knowing how to go about starting things with the woman who bought her. 

"Hello" Jean said, pointing downwards to have her kneel in front of her. As Cassie kneeled, and began licking, The Phoenix took over. Cassie was a little taken aback by how direct she was but something about it was very…exciting. Did she foresee her superhero career resulting in her eating out a mutant terrorist? Of course not, but she was far more invested than she thought she’d be. The Phoenix found Cassie worked with surprising enthusiasm, and the celestial being moaned slightly despite herself, but that isn't why she rented her. No, she had better things to do with her. Without further ado, she put her fingers to her temple and reached into her mind.

Cassie felt a sensation like talons pressing into her head, then heat consuming her body. It clawed its way into her mind and while at first she tried to resist, she actively chose to let her in.

Cassie’s body seemed to have a mind of its own, enthusiastically licking “Jean’s” sex, as she mentally sank deeper and deeper into the void until she was lost in eternity, floating in a black void, next to a giant fiery bird. The Phoenix. Cassie could do little but stare in supreme terror at how little she felt in comparison to the terrible and magnificent flaming celestial being before her. 

"You see the threads of time and fate. Past and future, they meet in you. I sensed it the moment you arrived here." The Phoenix spoke in a voice unlike any other. 

Thin distorted strands of the webs of time which stretched and weaved together for eternity in an incomprehensible net seemed to appear around them in response. It reminded Cassie of that experimental period back in college but even trippier.

"Intriguing..." The Phoenix touched the nearest thread to the future with her talon. She saw herself standing behind a bent over Cassie, one hand tightly groping her ass. Cassie reached down desperately for a bar of soap but turned to briefly face Jean with a subtle grin just before the dominant mutant queen shoved her against the wall and roughly turned her around. Their wet bodies touched under the hot stream of water and Cassie looked nervous. It was all so…frustratingly short-term. The Phoenix reached for another thread.

Next she saw Cassie posing seductively in her see-through dress as Officer Weaver took a picture. The Phoenix pulled back her talon again. "Do you ever see anything strategically useful?"

“Strategically useful? I can’t really control what I…” Cassie began to try to explain but stopped when suddenly hit with a vision. It was far, farther than any vision she’d had before. In a cell there were two women, one laying on her back while the other straddled atop her saying something Cassie couldn’t quite make out. Cassie’s body shook as it became clearer, the woman on top stroked the other’s knotted hair and Cassie was given a glimpse of her face as she slipped back. It was Natasha Romanoff. Natasha’s hand caressed down from the other woman’s hair, draped down her soft neck, and across her heaving chest until she gripped the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulled it open in one fluid motion. Her partner gasped softly, nodding, and spread her legs where Natasha quickly took her position between her thighs. It was as the Black Widow began that Cassie was finally able to see who Nat was with, The Scarlet Witch.

The Phoenix paused, her demeanour in both the physical work and the astral dreamscape shifting from one of mild interest to one of barely suppressed rage. "That is useful to know. You have done well." She said, removing her fingers from her temple, making the dream collapse back into reality in just a second, delivering Cassie back to the showers at a disorientingly fast pace.

“I’ve never looked that far before!” Cassie exclaimed excitedly, failing to read the room and see The Phoenix looked far from happy.

The Phoenix retreated to plot a suitably violent punishment for Wanda for an offence that hadn’t even happened yet. As Jean returned to control of her body, she looked down at Cassie and helped her up. "So, uh...I saw that..." she blushed a little. She hadn’t gotten to actually cum in a little over a week, having been taken over by The Phoenix each time she neared it. She was really starting to resent The Phoenix for showing up to steal her orgasms and then disappear immediately afterwards. "...Want to make your first vision come true?" 

“Yes!” Cassie said a little too quickly. “I mean uh sure yeah” she added in an attempt to play it off. Jean only nodded and then had her face the tiled wall, bending over. Jean groped her ass tenderly, just like the vision...

————————————————————— 

That only left Anya who, despite probably being the horniest of the lot, was the only one of the Arachnachicks who hadn’t been approached. Although she couldn’t understand it, a part of her found it disappointing. She began to fret that Shuri and Riri had entirely forgotten her. She let out a sigh of relief that she immediately wanted to take back when Echo shoved her and pointed her in the direction of them a little across the shower room; Shuri standing besides Riri nervously anticipating the arrival of their rented closet-case.

Approaching the princess and her girlfriend, Anya tried to play it cool. “Hey” she greeted. She felt self-conscious at first about being entirely naked in front of them, but that began to dissipate with the thought that they were equally undressed.  

"Hi." Shuri greeted back with a smile, handing her a bar of soap after applying it to herself. "Just so you know, we won't make you do anything you don't want to do here..."

“Yeah we’re here to help and stuff. Whatever you’d like” Riri added. 

“Thank you” Anya clumsily took the bar of soap in hand. “I mean I don’t want to do anything…but if I had to do something, solely because you paid for me, I guess I wouldn’t mind being open to the idea of maybe starting with you both washing me?”

Shuri grinned. "Thought you might say that." she said, and began rubbing shampoo into Anya’s hair from behind, standing close enough to gently press against her back, while Riri soaped up her breasts.

Just the mere sensation of Riri touching her breasts was overwhelming in the best way possible to the poor totally-not-a-lesbian. She went weak in the knees, positively ready to jump out of her skin, as the two incredibly attractive women began to wash her. Shuri moved her under the shower to rinse her hair and whispered: "Anything else you'd like?"

Anya tensed, having trouble expressing what she wanted to say.“M-Maybe one of you could do something…down there” she was incredibly uncomfortable trying to explain what she wanted.

Shuri looked to Riri, knowing that prison bitch etiquette required her to get permission from her mommy before performing oral on someone else. Permission was granted with a nod as Riri  took Shuri’s place behind Anya, continuing to gently massage her breasts. 

Anya moaned quite loudly as Shuri got down on her knees, and began giving her the best cunnilingus she's ever had (Granted, Shuri only had one competitor, but still). Entranced by the sensation, Anya slid against Riri’s soft body, her chest against her back, and felt her give her ass a squeeze. She had no time to linger on that though because Shuri worked enthusiastically, hoping to get her to cum quickly. And quickly cum she did come, because, feeling just about ready to collapse, Anya reached a climax fast (maybe a little embarrassingly so). 

Juices dripping down her face, Shuri still did not cease. A few times they went, Anya completely entranced, before at last she gave permission for Shuri to stop. Pulling back, and standing up in front of Anya with a smirk, Shuri asked: "How was that...Learn anything about yourself?"

The long pause in response was answer enough that Anya was still in the process of processing something. 

“It was…It…” Anya was at a complete loss for words. Then at that moment, like a flash of lightning, it dawned on her that she’d never felt this way before with any of the, admittedly, few men she’d been with. It finally clicked into place and she muttered “…I think I might be into women”

Riri shot Shuri a look that said ‘took her long enough’ while the princess clapped her hands in mock celebration.

"Glad we could help you figure it out." Shuri said, gently teasing her, but genuinely happy to have helped her work through that. She could certainly relate, it had been a surprise to her after meeting Riri after all. 

————————————————————— 

The long day came to a close with the inmates being taken back to their cells. The doors all across the cellblocks shut tight and the mechanical locks activated with a subtle click, the weary prisoners climbed into their terrible beds knowing tomorrow would be just as exhausting, and then the lights all dimmed.

Cassie went to bed naked, as her dress was very uncomfortable to sleep in. She laid on the bottom bunk, pressed against Karen Page, and thought about the Phoenix. Her overwhelming presence in her mind was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Somehow the thought of an overwhelming dominant presence put her mind to Officer Weaver...and she drifted to sleep dreaming (prophetically) of modelling various outfits for the guard’s camera.

Julia lay in bed with Shriek, unable to sleep as the serial killer tiredly stroked her tits. Staring at the bottom of the bunk above them, all Julia could do was wonder what lesbian horrors tomorrow had in store. The taste of Sylvie’s (as well as Olivia, Shriek, and even Anya’s) cum still haunted her, as did the thought that she’d have to taste it again tomorrow…and the next day…and the next…

Mattie went to bed feeling better than she did the previous night. Her body was pressed against Vanessa Fisk's. Vanessa in her uniform, Mattie naked. Vanessa the dominant Mafia Donne (Do they call it that when it's a lady Don? Like Dom and Domme? Anyway...) Mattie the owned prison property, but all the same...she felt safe in her arms. Thanks to a deal with Officer Weaver for a cell transfer (in exchange for posing in the prison calendar shoot), the Nazi bitches no longer had Mattie as their pet "racial inferior" to torment, so that was nice.

Anya laid on the floor, Silver Sable had kicked her off the bed after tiring of her toy for the night, and followed how her mind reeled with thoughts of what to do with her newfound understanding of her sexuality; the seemingly limitless possibilities now that she was in the most-sapphic environment imaginable. It all seemed so clear now. Thinking of her time with Shuri and Riri in the showers, her hand slipped down the front of her jumpsuit and she closed her eyes. Drifting off to sleep, she dreamed of her brilliant new reality. 

Chapter Text

It was a new day in The Raft. In just twenty-four hours word had spread to each and every gang across the prison that the legendary Captain Marvel was severely weakened in a fight. Although the underfunded staff of the infirmary did their best to filter who came in, a good number of spies did manage to sneak in and catch a glimpse of the wounded Carol Danvers just to confirm the rumour was really true. There was concern an assassin may be sent to eliminate her while she was unconscious but a simple solution was found by the head guard. Any visitors would have to undergo a full-body search before being allowed permission to enter. 

Valkyrie had been one who underwent the unpleasant process just to see Carol. They’d met long ago and had once been something, but that didn’t last and they’d long since gone their separate ways. Was it technically Carol’s fault that they broke up because she had commitment issues? Yes. But deep down Valkyrie still cared for her, if not romantically than at least a friend…for now. She zipped up her jumpsuit as the guard stepped back and she dutifully walked down the long hall of beds to one in the back. The curtain was already drawn open and Valkyrie could see the battered and beaten Carol lying fast asleep. Although she now had several bandaged wounds, none were as obvious as the one that required a makeshift eye patch to cover. 

Valkyrie felt her heart hurt at the sight of Carol in this position and sat down next to the bed, carefully sliding her hand into Carol’s and squeezing it. 

“Hey Marv. I’m here.” She didn’t want to wake Carol, but at the same time, seeing her awake would really help her be less worried. And she wanted to talk with her. 

The sound of the curtain moving made Valkyrie look up into the eyes of the head doctor of the infirmary, Dr. Faiza Hussain. Tall and proper, the doctor wore a hijab that framed her tan face and compassionate eyes. It was well known by most inmates that Dr. Faiza was one of, if not the only, staff member who actually cared about the well-being of the prisoners. She nodded as a greeting, then looked back at Carol worriedly. 

“Is she okay?” She asked the doctor without taking her eyes off the patient. “I mean, like, relatively.”

“I don’t really know, to be honest.” The doctor answered truthfully in her English accent. “I tried my best with what they gave me, but the eye cannot be saved. I am still trying to find out if there is any neurological damage.”

“Can I do anything?” Valkyrie asked hurriedly, the uncertain prognosis scaring her. 

“You could get me some water.” Carol croaked weakly, apparently having woken up due to their hushed conversation. 

Valkyrie looked excitedly at the now awake Carol and immediately left to fetch her water. Upon returning she opened the bottle and aimed to help Carol drink some. Meanwhile, the doctor went to check on Carol’s vitals and pumped another dose of painkillers into her system. She was not really allowed to give painkillers unless absolutely necessary, but she knew Carol would be in immense pain without them. As she was the head doctor, and one of the few people here with actual, real medical knowledge, she could easily cheat the system to her needs. 

Carol licked her dry lips and settled back against the pillow. She felt woozy, her head heavy with bandages. Valkyrie’s face looked incredibly bright in the weird, fluorescent lighting of the infirmary and she had to giggle a little bit at how beautiful she looked. 

“Heyy..” She said, eyeing the doctor with one eye, checking what she was doing to her, before looking back at Valkyrie. Carol was still incredibly out-of-it from the painkillers.“Whatya doing here?”

“I came here to check on you,” Valkyrie replied. Technically Sylvie had sent her seeking confirmation, but Valkyrie would have come regardless. 

“Aw. That’s nice. I think I’m okay, Just, my eye is gone.” The realisation didn’t really hit Carol yet, but obviously this would impair her for the rest of her life. From the corner of her view she saw Dr. Faiza depart. 

“To me you look even more like a battle-hardened warrior” Valkyrie tried to compliment. Being a Norse warrior, horrific wounds were often something to revere as glorious marks of battles survived. 

“I could be like a pirate if I ever get out of here.” Carol chuckled sadly. “Or at least look like Thor’s dad.”

“Odin” Valkyrie answered. 

“Yeah, him.” Carol waved her hand dismissively. “I assume the whole prison knows what happened?”

“It’s been the topic of today for basically everyone. People are surprised that it happened at all, but even more confused on who did this to you”

“It was Jean and her muties.” Carol answered truthfully. “It was revenge for me punching Wanda in the face.” 

Valkyrie hardly looked surprised at the culprit. “How do you plan on retaliating?” her mind immediately jumped to battle.  

“God, I don’t know. I feel like everyone is looking at me for answers or what I’ll do. I think I could use some guidance.” Admitting this out loud was out of character for her, but Carol trusted Valkyrie enough to not take advantage of her weakness.

Valkyrie had been king of Asgard for a time, a task that came with responsibilities similar to the ones Carol faced. Even then she’d found the job to be beyond what she cared for, that’s why she had quickly relinquished control to Sylvie in prison, but she’d also never been attacked and lost an eye over punching someone’s girlfriend. She felt like she could do little to counsel her friend, but she tried. “I think you need to rally your allies quickly. I’ve heard what people are saying and it’s not looking good. They know you can be beaten and it seems like every murderer with a shiv fancies herself able to kill you. This is a time to decide who is most loyal in your court because the others will probably try to take your position”

Carol’s shoulders slumped. “Great.” She did not handle the responsibility of being a leader well, rather focusing on what the others in her gang wanted, but in this moment they needed her to show up for real. 

“You’re loyal to me, right?” She asked Valkyrie honestly.

“Of course” Valkyrie said immediately. She knew that if ever her loyalties were divided between her queen, Sylvie, and Carol she would always pick Carol. 

“Good. I need you to convince Sylvie to stand with me.” Carol knew it was a big ask especially given her compromised position, but it was important. “And I will talk to Wanda.”

“Is talking to her a euphemism for shoving a shiv into her chest or…?” Valkyrie currently believed that this was just as much Wanda’s fault as it was Jean’s. 

Carol smiled. “Maybe.” She then slowly shook her head. “As great as that sounds, that probably won’t help. I need to know more information. Maybe Jean has a weakness. Besides Wanda of course. And if I don’t find out anything, I can always just blast her face off. I can still aim with one eye.” 

Valkyrie chuckled at Carol’s fiery spirit. “Yes I will talk to Sylvie and try to get her to help. Shouldn’t be that hard to convince the goddess of mischief to be loyal to someone” she said with clear sarcasm. 

Tightly squeezing Valkyrie’s hand, Carol smiled gratefully. “Thank you for being by my side. Literally and figuratively. I won’t forget it”

Valkyrie stayed with Carol for half an hour before departing with the important task of assuring Sylvie Laufeydottir’s allegiance to the Galaxy Gals. She wasn’t sure how she’d react. The Goddess of Mischief was always unpredictable. After Valkyrie left, Carol settled back down on her pillows, the short interaction already having exhausted her. Her face prickled and she pressed the bandage with her hand. 

A figure loomed from the shadows of the curtains that had once again been drawn for privacy, and with her sight blurred Carol assumed it was just Valkyrie coming back or maybe the head nurse here to give her more meds. When the figure approached closer however, their face became clearer. The extremely long dark brown hair with streaks of red curtaining the face with big green eyes were undeniably recognisable as Wanda Maximoff.

Carol immediately froze up and sat up against her pillows, the movement making her body sting. She tried to look around for a weapon, but this was obviously a hospital and nothing of such nature was present. 

Wanda approached her bed almost shyly, her hands wringing together, giving her already somewhat creepy demeanour something shy and that in return made her even scarier. Carol opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, not sure if this was a moment to say her last words or if staying quiet was more dignified. Ultimately she hardeemed her face in bold defiance. 

“Hello.” Wanda said quietly in her strong Sokovian accent. 

Carol furrowed her brow and looked at her with surprise. “Hi?”

“I came to…” The witch noticed the other’s discomfort and took a step back. “I came to apologise to you. “

“Huh?” Carol could not keep the surprised sound from coming out of her mouth. Maybe she had misheard, and ‘apologise’ was actually ‘murder’.

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears unexpectedly. “I did not want her to do this. I…I’m so sorry.” She lunged forward, grabbing Carol’s hand, which made the blonde make an uncertain sound. “I don’t know what to do. She keeps doing these things for me but I don’t want her to do that. She..she is horrible." Wanda’s tears streamed fully down her hollow cheeks. “I am stuck in this situation…this relationship…and people keep getting hurt because of it.”

What the fuck was happening right now? Carol could not believe her eyes at The Scarlet Witch, one of the most powerful beings in this universe, crying at her bedside because her prison relationship was toxic. On top of that, she somehow felt like she should comfort her?

She slowly pulled her hand back from the brunette’s cold ones and tucked them under the blanket. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m not going to comfort you. I’m missing a fucking eye because of you”

Wanda’s nose was leaking onto Carol’s blankets and she nodded, tears dripping with the movement. “Of course. I-I’m sorry.” She stepped back and played with her hands nervously. “I understand why you hit me. I should not have threatened Monica. I am sorry for that. But I swear to you that I did not ask her to do all this. I wanted..I just want to stop all this fighting.” She looked at the other’s face. “How is your…how is your eye? Is it bad?”

“It’s not going to regrow.” Carol said bitterly. She did feel bad for Wanda, if she viewed the situation from an outsider perspective. But she would never comfort her or accept her apology. 

“Oh…” Wanda’s face fell even more. “I wish I could do something.”

Carol’s anger threatened to overflow. “I’ll tell you what you can do. You can march out of this room and leave me in peace, and you can talk to your ‘girlfriend’ and tell her to stop hurting others. And you should fucking stop crying and stop being such a pussy. C’mon! You’re the Scarlet Witch. You could rule this place if you weren’t so mentally fucked up and scared of everything. Man up man!” She spat.

Wanda sniffled, but seemed to take the words to heart. “You are right.” She nodded slowly.

“I know I’m right. You deserve better, and I can’t believe I’m saying that. Just please fucking leave me and my gang alone.” Carol’s voice broke at the last words, the tiredness and the pain and the heightened emotions of the day getting the best of her. She angrily wiped her good eye with the back of her hand and looked away from the pathetic crying witch in front of her. “Go away, please.” Wanda didn’t say another word but Carol could hear her leave the room. 

————————————————————— 

Valkyrie marched down Cell Block A with determination before pausing just outside her destination. From the sounds emanating from within she knew she should probably give it a moment before she delivered a serious conversation. She poked her head around the corner and she saw a rather ordinary sight coming from Sylvie. The Goddess of Mischief sat atop her bed gently moaning as Jane Foster kneeled on the ground, face nuzzled against her prison mommy’s sex, lapping away with quick sensual motions. Jane had grown well accustomed to the task by now and pleasured her queen vigilantly. As the tip of Jane’s tongue flicked against Sylvie's clit, she rolled her head back in ecstasy and stretched her legs further apart, resting one atop Jane’s shoulder and the other leg bent with her arm hanging over her knee.

Sylvie was not a cruel goddess by any means, but deep down like all Lokis she demanded a level of worship. In prison this was merely the natural order of things. The strong were burdened to  protect the weak and in return the weak offered what they could. Opening her eyes slowly while letting out gentle gasps of ecstasy, she noticed Valkyrie peering from beyond the bars and silently bid her enter. 

Valkyrie nodded and did as commanded. 

“Want a turn with her?” Sylvie nonchalantly asked her friend while Jane didn’t bother stopping her task to see who was present. She knew better than to disappoint her queen. 

Valkyrie considered it but nodded no. “Not right now. I just got back from meeting with Carol”

“...Did you now?” Sylvie’s breaths hitched raggedly. “Is it true that they really just…oh fuck…uhh cut out her eye?” 

“It is. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to discuss this after you’re…done?” Valkyrie asked hesitantly.

Sylvie tilted her head back and came with a loud moan before looking back at Valkyrie, ecstatic bliss painted on her fair jotnar face. “...Nope. Tell me what she said” she said as she brushed aside a strand of her knotted blonde hair and then resolved to simply put her hair up in a bun. 

Jane waited for permission to stop, which she was granted, and so she stood up and walked besides Valkyrie. 

“Well, first it seems Jean Grey was the one who attacked her on behalf of Wanda” Valkyrie began relaying all the important details of their conversation, minus the more personal bits. Sylvie nodded along, fully focused on each word. 

“She wants to know if we’ll stand by her when they retaliate against the Sisterhood”

“Sure!” Sylvie grinned, not giving it a moment's thought. She’d been in a gang war once before, during a brief stay in Stormcage Prison in the 31st century before the building was reduced to rubble by an apocalyptic scale hurricane. It was pretty fun. She wasn’t against doing it again. 

“...So I can tell her yes?” Valkyrie wanted to make sure Sylvie was being serious. 

Sylvie rolled her eyes in annoyance, “I don’t know what else sure would mean. I know you two fancy each other so yeah you have my solemn oath or whatever”

“We do not-” Valkyrie sputtered. “This is a strategic move, nothing else.”

“Right. I’m not going to argue with The King of Asgard but it’s hardly subtle. It is strategic…to have you and the leader of another gang be so close” Sylvie smiled, satisfied with her own twist on Valkyrie's words.

“Why are you like this?” Valkyrie mumbled. She was glad Sylvie wanted to help, but why was this mockery necessary?

Sylvie knew she’d won so she shifted the topic. “So how is Carol?”

“She’s okay, I suppose. Bit worse for wear. Her eye is fucked.” Thinking about Carol laying all alone in the infirmary made her want to return immediately and be by her side.

“What do you think happened to the eye that isn’t there anymore?” Sylvie asked randomly. 

Valkyrie did not really want to think about it. “I hope nothing.”

Sylvie sighed, struggling to think of how exactly to console her. “Are you sure you don’t want to borrow Jane?” Her idea of helping was unorthodox to say the least. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really in the mood. I think I’m just going to have an early night.”

“Fine” Sylvie said and rose to a stand. She had previously been on Valkyrie’s bed…

Chapter Text

Jessica Jones laid in utter silence in the dreary midnight solitude of her place on the bottom bunk. Toss and turn as Jessica might, she found it completely impossible to sleep. One might think her six-hour stint in the mines would have helped in her ability to sleep just from the sheer mental and physical exhaustion, but all she felt really was the aching of her limbs. She hadn’t realised before incarceration just how much her superior strength made her life easier. 

Resting her head atop her arm, Jessica stared at the metallic base of the bunk above her for hours as her mind raced over every pang of guilt and anxiety she could possibly feel. Each and every emotion sent her hurtling deeper into a despair that only a bottle of the cheapest bourbon could remedy. Well either a drink, or the first willing guy she could find in a bar. She remembered the sudden endorphinal thrill she had being leaned against the wall of a graffitied-out bathroom stall while the man behind her (who’s names she always forgot a minute after they told her) fucked her hard. 

Silently and without thought, Jessica slowly peeled the zipper of her jumpsuit open and without much thought her hand reached the top of her underwear. She strayed gently against the itchy white material before resolving to go on. Her mind once again drifted towards experiences she would never have again: the night in the blind lawyer’s apartment, the experience in the back of the Starbucks, that time in Josie’s Bar. Memories of each only convinced her to push on, confident she could keep quiet in the blackness of light’s out as she shoved her hand inside her prison-panties. Instinctively her legs spread slightly, and she grazed her hand down through her matted black pubic bush. Inserting a finger into her already wet sex, she gasped as it brushed against her clit. She kept going down and in one motion slipped another of her fingers inside of herself and felt her pussy clench up around it.

Jessica pulled her fingers up higher, and rubbed her now lubricated fingers against herself. Overwhelmed, she began concentrating on her breathing, doing her best to keep it regular and quiet while concentrating on the rough details of previous experiences. Her left hand strayed to her nipples where she pinched herself hard. Massaging her chest while her right hand worked quickly on her clit, she could already feel an orgasm building.

Her body tensed at the thought of being pegged and she pictured the whole thing in vivid detail. Running once more against her clit in a slippery pass, her back arched and a low moan escaped her breath-taken lips followed by only silence. She couldn’t bear to imagine the living hell being in a women’s prison was going to be. Maybe she could get ahold of a strap-on. She’d manage to get a drink after-all. 

Her pace doubled as she sunk more and more into the feeling, until, at last, she could feel herself nearing upon the verge of release. It was just as Jessica teetered over the climactic precipice that something pierced the silence of the cell like a knife and forced her to a sudden stop, killing any sexual feelings she’d had. 

Trish’s voice from above groggily groaned: “If the bottom bunk moves, the top bunk moves too. It’s physics” before turning over and covering her ears with her pillow. 

Jessica rolled her eyes, admittedly slightly embarrassed that Trish had been awake through the process, and withdrew her hand from her crotch. She was used to catching pervs in the middle of sexual acts, not the other way around. It was going to be a long night…

Jessica wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep precisely, but it definitely wasn’t enough to leave her feeling well-rested. She really was more of the “sleep for 11-13 hours after downing 5-7 bottles and blacking out” type of person. During what little sleep she had gotten, she’d had to endure the usual recurring nightmares…with a few new elements thrown in. At least Kilgrave was happy about her new living situation. Enough so that even the horrific act of snapping his neck didn’t wipe the usual narcissistic smirk off his face. 

Groaning, Jessica managed to toss her blanket off and get herself out of bed by the time Trish had already washed up and got herself waiting by the bars. Just like the previous morning, no words were spoken by the sisters. For better or worse, the silence didn’t remain unbroken because they did speak as the day progressed. But the burden of awkwardness had not been lifted in the slightest in the twenty-four hours since their discussion in the yard. Being cellmates definitely didn’t help. Probably made worse by the fact that Trish brought up the fact that it was Jessica's fault she was in prison at any given opportunity. 

Actually, Jessica decided she might have preferred Trish’s guilt-trips to what her adopted-sister said when they returned to their shared cell because the proposition left the moody private detective uttering a disgusted: “You want me to do what?” 

“C’mon it’s not that big of a deal. If you’re going to be my cellmate you need to get comfortable with at least helping me. I can’t have two of these without looking too suspicious. Now shove the bag of drugs down your underwear” Trish replied, taking two baggies full of an orangish-red powder from underneath her pillow and shoving one down the back of her underwear and then handing the other bag to Jessica. 

Jessica looked no less disgusted now that hiding drugs against (thankfully not in) her butt had come into play. “And your buyer isn’t concerned about where you’re hiding these?”

“Speaking as a drug addict, no addict is thinking ‘oh hey let me make sure the drugs I’m about to snort are sanitary.’ Besides, my ass is clean” Trish pressed, pushing the bag into Jessica’s hand. 

Jessica took the bag. “We showered two days ago…”

“Ok well relatively clean.” Trish rolled her eyes. Right on cue she added: “And whose fault is it that I don't have the freedom to shower everyday? Oh right, yours.”

Jessica crossed her arms and made a flat expression in an attempt to conceal the sting of the comment made. “I’m not helping you smuggle drugs” she said firmly. 

Trish zipped up her uniform. “Remember that favour we talked about before? Well it’s really more of a deal. You’re going to help me do my job, and I’m going to get you whatever booze is smuggled in”

Jessica gave Trish a disapproving glare but promptly undid her jumpsuit and hid the bag where told. She knew that she objectively had made the wrong decision, but she also couldn’t bear the idea of enduring prison life sober. What was one more category of wrongs in a long list of deeds she felt guilt over?

“Alright, we have a few stops to make today so keep the conscience shit to a minimum” Trish said, stepping out of the cell and knowing Jessica would follow. She could feel her sister’s eyes on her as they walked towards their first stop. 

Once more entering the yard, Jessica wondered how it managed to feel like the space was even more crowded today than it had been on days previous. The whole place smelled of cigarettes and sweat, although that wasn’t particularly all too dissimilar to a lot of the places Jessica frequented back in New York. Even the sex-trade, with various inmates willingly in (or more often, forced into) states of undress to show off their bodies to potential customers, was reminiscent of the various times Jessica had gone to red-light districts and strip-clubs for work (no, not like that). It was as they passed a table to the right that Jessica took a moment of pause, recognising one of the women standing atop it. Standing to the right with her jumpsuit tied around her waist was the blue alien, Nebula, Jessica had arrived at The Raft with. It was clear from her domineering stance that Nebula wasn’t one of the poor women being sold, but instead the one selling one. From behind, her hands cupped Bereet’s small pink tits - not that the Krylorian seemed to mind much. 

“That was fast” Jessica mused on Nebula’s speedy taking to things without much behind her tone. It was doubtlessly disturbing, but she’d come to expect that. 

“Yeah. I wonder how much she’ll make off her” Trish pondered in return, receiving yet another glare. “What? It happened to me before and I’m doing fine” Regardless of it had happened to her (it actually had) she would have said it did just to shut Jessica up. It worked because they didn’t say a word to each other for the five minutes it took to find the first client.

On a bench towards the back sat her buyer having an inaudible conversation with the woman besides her. Swooping back her golden blonde hair, the buyer looked up and Jessica couldn’t stop herself from asking in bewilderment: “Aren’t you-”

“Dazzler? Yeah” The buyer finished for her. It was only the millionth time she’d heard that question and she looked bored of it. Turning to Trish, the pop-star asked: “Do you have the stuff?”

Trish nodded. “Well she has them actually…” she said, roughly nudging Jessica in the arm until she complied. Scowling, Jessica unzipped her uniform just low enough to reach her arm down and retrieve the bag of drugs from her underwear. The act in itself was weird, but having a world-famous celebrity watch her really magnified things. 

“How gross. You’re hiding it there ?” the woman who was practically clinging to Dazzler finally spoke. It was only then that Jessica really noticed her presence and realised she recognised the woman. It was the obnoxious influencer from intake, Titania. She’d yet to leave Dazzler’s side since they met, being the most uncomfortably close fan imaginable. When she wasn’t asking for any and all gossip Dazzler may know she was ranting about how much she hated She-Hulk. The extent of how much mental energy she devoted to the emerald giantess was astounding. Jessica figured she understood now why the pop-star needed the drugs. 

Jessica ignored Titania’s exaggerated revulsion and simply handed the object over. “Thank you” Dazzler said earnestly, evidently in dire need, and started to hand Trish the amount of cigarettes the bag was worth before being stopped. Jessica noted that the woman seemed startlingly nice and well spoken, making the company she had even more questionable.

“Half a pack? Yeah we’re so not paying that much” Titania interjected, inserting herself into a deal that really didn’t concern her at all. Dazzler gave her a look that said ‘shut up’ but Titania didn’t stop. Rising to a stand, the spoiled-brat of a superhuman asserted: “Half the price”

“No full price is fine actually” Dazzler quickly tried. Somehow Titania was managing to make the relief from her presence a stressful ordeal. She pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly.

Titania only smirked. “Trust me, queen, I got this”

Trish chuckled. “Yeah we’re not doing that”. It seemed she had a lot of experience with this sort of behaviour, because she was unwavering and calm.

“Just pay the fucking price.” Jessica added, feeling far less patient. Titania was drawing out what Jess had decided was going to be a miserable day. Plus, she somehow felt embarrassed in front of Dazzler and also Trish, since this was her first prison drug deal.

Titania smirked. “Look, I get your whole emo tough-slut vibe and, just bein’ real here, it’s pathetic. Now half the price for my BFF Alison.” In her own strange bullying way, Titania was at least unhelpfully sticking up for Dazzler. Although Dazzler very clearly didn’t want (or need) her help. 

In an instant Jessica punched the wall. “I’m going to shove that pack of cigarettes so far up your ass that you cough it up if you don’t sit back down.” 

The threat was enough to make Titania gulp and do as told, not uttering another word in fear of the possibility Jessica was actually serious. Dazzler paid Trish the pack and a half, winked at them, and then the sisters went on their way to the next stop on their list. 

The next stop brought them to Cellblock D where the client was already waiting. She was a woman with ginger hair thats messy strands framed her half-painted white face. She wore what remained of her tattered jumpsuit, its gaps exposing various gnarly scars all along her body (some from injuries she’d obtained, and others self-inflicted). 

Without a word, Trish undid her jumpsuit and fetched the drugs before entering the cell. Going by the sleep-deprived anxious look on her client’s face, the drugs were either going to be a small relief or make things exponentially worse. Either way Trish got paid. “That’ll be the usual price” Trish said. 

“Hey. Who’s your new friend?” The timid voice was unexpected. Soft and innocent, it was completely dissonant from the woman it belonged to: Mary Walker, aka Typhoid Mary, a serial-murderess and gun for hire. She was currently seven years deep into a sentence that made sure she never again saw the light of day as a free woman.

“My sister. She’s new” Trish replied casually. Jessica felt entirely separate from the conversation. 

“Nice to meet you. My name’s Mary.” The woman held out her hand for Jessica to shake…which Jessica completely ignored. “Why is she not shaking my hand, Patsy?” Mary looked deeply upset, the muscles in her face tensing. 

Trish opened her mouth, but Mary immediately interrupted her. Like a light had been switched inside, her whole demeanour changed. It was like she’d instantly become an entirely different person. Likely because that is precisely what happened. “Why is this whore not shaking my hand? Take my hand, whore!” The woman was positively screeching. 

“What the fuck?” Jessica groaned at Mary’s sudden outburst, looking at her with apathetic confusion. It was enough to make the detective take a concerned step back. 

Trish tensed, but knew that dealing with Mary meant having to handle her mood swings. It turned out selling drugs to someone with diagnosed Multiple Personality Disorder was confusing. Who would have thought. “She’s a bit of a bitch” Trish shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Without any indication, Mary got up from the bunk she was sitting on and charged at Jessica. She grabbed her neck with surprising strength. 

Jessica’s eyes went wide and she choked at the sudden pressure upon her throat. She didn’t have any time to react before she was pinned against the wall. Briefly breaking contact with her attacker’s maddened eyes, she noticed that Trish was doing absolutely nothing to help pry her off. Go figure. 

“You’re going to be my new plaything” Mary grinned widely, too widely. “I’m going to carve my name into your body with a shiv and then I’ll make you eat out my sweaty cunt. When that’s done I’ll pierce your septum myself and then drag you along with it while I sell you for cigarettes to whole groups at a time. Your goth whore ass is gonna make me rich.” she continued to threaten as her nails dug deep into Jess’ neck.

Jessica seized up with a sudden terror as she felt her heart race until it felt like it was going to burst. She gasped for air but she couldn’t breath. This was more than just a reaction to being choked. It was an ingrained terror of once more being forced into sexual servitude. Doing whatever she could to escape, she summoned all of her limited energy and she managed to shove Mary off and punch her in the face. Tumbling against the wall with blood trickling down her nose, Mary only looked more insane. “Mmm hit me again” She said in a sensual moan.

“Oh yeah I should probably tell you she’s a masochist” Trish unhelpfully added from her place leaned against the bars. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Jessica exclaimed. 

Mary nodded in agreement. “It’s true. Every time you hit me you’re just making me wet” she said vulgarly in a sing-song voice.

Jessica hesitated to hit Mary again. Her desire to punch her again was overruled by the revolting image of bringing Mary to climax.  “Well what do I do with her?” she angrily asked, getting just a shrug from Trish. 

Weakly Mary attempted to rise to a stand. “Just keep the hits comin’. Or is that too gay for you, tough girl?” She asked in a mocking tone which made Jessica grab her by her hair and shove her face-first against the wall. It was exactly what Mary wanted. “There you go. When this is over I’m gonna bite your cli-” her forehead was thrust against the wall with enough force to knock her unconscious. 

Trish pushed herself off the wall, impressed with what just went down. “Wow. Nice work. I should hire you as my bodyguard.” She patted Jessica’s shoulder approvingly. “We’ve just got a few more stops. Maybe try not to fight them though”

“No” Jessica spoke distantly, stepping back from the knocked out Mary in a haze. She didn’t feel bad for beating the woman unconscious (not in the slightest in fact), but something else was on her mind. “You can handle whatever shit you’ve got planned by yourself. I’m done”

“What? You’re not out” Trish said calmly, mostly focused on the task at hand as she flipped Mary’s mattress and claimed her fee (plus a little extra for the trouble caused).

Jessica stared daggers at her sister. “What part of ‘you can handle this shit yourself’ didn’t you hear?”

Trish still wasn’t entirely listening, but dismissed her with a simple: “Ok well enjoy withdrawal” 

Jessica could feel the fury from her fight bubbling inside, brewing to make a return. She couldn’t withstand withdrawal in her current environment and Trish knew that. Jessica felt no different than the women she saw being sold in the yard, except instead of sex Trish was going to make her continue playing whatever fucked-up revenge game this was while dangling the promise of feeding her addiction in front of her face. Did she deserve it? Jessica certainly believed so, but the fact that they were sisters did make it feel particularly painful. Without the means to genuinely express what she really felt, Jessica focused on the easiest thing to be mad about. “Why the fuck did you just stand there and watch me get attacked?!” she ragefully asked. 

“I knew you could handle things. Besides, Mary’s all talk…sometimes” Trish replied. 

“Bullshit. I’m lucky she wouldn’t shut up or she would have killed me.” Jessica actually kind of wished Mary had succeeded now that she said that out loud. 

Trish rolled her eyes and then looked up at the fuming Jessica. “What do you think it was like for me when you turned me in? I don’t remember you being around to swoop in and save me every time I got groped, beaten, or sold.” she still spoke in a collected demeanour, but that thought had festered for a tormentful seven years. “If you want out that’s fine, but don’t start on whatever crap you have to say about me not helping you just now”

Trish stood up and crossed her arms. “I’m getting really tired of going back and forth with you on this. Do you want in on the deal or not? Oh and here” she pulled from the empty top bunk a plastic bottle filled with smuggled in Scotch. “You and Mary have the same shit taste in alcohol by the way”

Not knowing what to say, Jessica gave her answer by taking the bottle and downing it. She was going to need to be forever-drunk to do her new job. 

Quickly getting more drugs to sell off a woman calling herself White Rabbit (Jessica found the name a little obvious and said as much) they continued. The next two deals, one to some blonde new-agey girl and the other to Jean Grey, both went smoothly. On their way to the next stop, Trish turned to Jessica and said: “Just so you know, you pull the drugs out of your jumpsuit only when next to the client. Don’t ever do it out in the open, unless you like getting nabbed by guards”

“Thanks?” Jessica responded. 

“Oh and pretending to have sex with them actually is a great tactic. That way having someone reach into your underwear isn’t as suspicious” Trish added. 

“Seriously, what’s with the lesson?” Jessica brooded. 

Trish looked ahead and smirked to herself. “If we’re going to work together I need you to not screw things up. Sorry not sorry if me teaching you is annoying you, but welcome to Incarceration 101”

Jessica thought of making a snarky comment but she was too exasperated with Trish. “How much longer until the next drink?” she asked tiredly. 

“However long it takes me to find one. So maybe in the next ten minutes, or maybe next month. Somewhere in that range” Trish shrugged.

“Great” Jessica replied dully. 

They passed by another cell in a long row of cells where laboured moans emanated. It gave Trish an idea. “Lesson number two: in prison you learn to make do fast. Whether that’s surviving by doing what we’re doing now-”

“You annoying me while I pretend to listen?” Jessica interrupted 

“No. Shut up. Selling drugs. My point is that everyone here learns to adjust in order to survive somehow. Even the straightest of women miss the feeling of touch enough to be gay for the stay eventually. Judging by last night, you’ll be desperate in a week.” Trish spoke from a place of certainty. 

Jessica blushed ever so slightly. “I was trying to get comfortable” she lied. 

Trish only rolled her eyes. “Yeah and the magazine I bought off Rogue is about the latest innovations in Stark Industries”

They passed the threshold into the prison gym where Trish walked over and grabbed an orange mat that matched her jumpsuit. Ok this didn’t seem like work. “What are we doing?” Jessica asked, arms once again crossed. The whole room felt hot and muggy which gave the place a very similar vibe to the showers. Last time she was in this room Titania managed to get herself into a fight with She-Hulk during the welcome tour; not a great first impression. 

Trish set down her mat and started to stretch her limbs. “Well I’m exercising. Work’s done” 

“And you need me here for that why?” Jessica asked, annoyed. 

“Oh I don’t. You can go if you want. I don’t give a shit” Trish said simply while bending forwards and touching her toes. Yoga helped her relax after feeding the dire addictions of depressed prisoners for monetary (or shall I say cigarettary) gain. 

“That sounds about right” Jessica said flatly while giving her sister the middle finger. With work done she planned on going back to her cell and taking a nap. That seemed like the only interesting thing to do.

“Shush. Exercising” Trish silenced. 

Jessica paused and had to say: “Yoga isn’t exercising. It’s stretching-’ but was cut off by the loud and random approach of a familiar face. 

“Got you now, bitch!” Karli Morganthau yelled, lunging at Jessica in an attempted tackle. She’d had a rough go of things since her humiliating defeat in the showers and she was going to make up for that before Sin made her eat out half of Hydra again. She wouldn’t lose this time she told herself…and then was promptly punched in the chest. Crumbling to the floor, the amateaur Neo-Nazi pathetically tried (and failed) to get back up. 

Jessica didn’t bother with dealing with the girl again, but that didn’t mean that this was over. She took one step and then a voice came from the back: “So you’re the cunt she lost to. Yeah that adds up.” Jessica turned around to see Viper, Songbird, and Angel Dust facing her. 

“What is this? Crap on Jessica Day?” Jessica exclaimed in utter exhaustion. Maybe she’d be fortunate enough for them to just kill her. 

“That’s next month” Trish added while flowing into the next asana. 

Viper’s dark jade lips curled into a wicked smirk. Turning to Trish and then back to Jessica, the assassin asked: “That your girlfriend, faggot?” She was as politically correct as ever (not at all). 

Angel Dust cracked her knuckles. “She looks pretty masculine. We sure she's even a real woman?” 

Jessica looked at them with mild bewilderment, not even sure what to say. Should she start by commenting on their nazi tattoos, the random bigotry, or refuting that Trish was her girlfriend? She chose the latter. “She’s my sister”

Songbird’s eyes went wide. “Great, now this prison has incestrous transgender lesbians” she sounded genuinely horrified by the notion. There were two brain cells held by the trio of women and both of those cells belonged to Viper. 

Jessica would have laughed if she was the type to ever laugh. “It’s people like you who give people like you a bad name” she remarked. 

Viper didn’t say a word as she discreetly pulled her beloved shiv from her jumpsuit and approached Jessica, flanked by her subordinates. Songbird was the first to be in range of Jessica, and Jessica responded by throwing a punch which was stopped by Angel Dust’s remarkable strength. Before she could do much, Jessica was held down against the wall by the both of them while Viper raised the tip of her blade to Jessica’s chin.

“You’re going to do whatever we want or I’ll kill you” Viper threatened, pushing the jagged blade a little  more against Jessica’s flesh. 

Jessica flinched, but didn’t struggle against the shiv. “I feel like I’ve heard something along those lines a lot today”

Viper withdrew her blade and slapped Jessica across the face before holding her jaw open. “We’re going to put that mouth of yours to work…after I remove a tooth” She lifted the shiv to Jessica’s gums and prepared to cut when they were interrupted.

“Unhand the woman” ordered a voice belonging to Vanessa Fisk, the Queenpin of Crime herself. By her side were a few of her trusted lackeys, muscle in case things ever got out of hand, and her favourite personal slave. Vanessa looked disgusted to be present in the prison’s gym but she wanted to see Jessica for herself. She could have simply had Echo take the woman and have her bring her to her cell. 

“She’s ours” Songbird spat. 

Vanessa looked at the Hydra women with disinterest. “I want her. And I always get what I want. You can either give her to me…or I can have my girls take her off you by force” 

“Kike” Viper hissed. Looking at Jessica, she debated whether she preferred to incur the wrath of Sin or Vanessa. If anyone else had approached her she would have told them to fuck off, but gang leaders weren’t to be trifled with. “We’ll be back for her” she said with bitter hesitation. 

“I’m sure you will. Now go. There will be no second chance to leave” Vanessa said, and the Hydra women steadily backed off. 

Once they had slithered off, Jessica asked in a weary tone: “What the fuck do you want?”

Vanessa studied Jessica, the way the woman held herself. She practically screamed depressed alcoholic. “I’m fascinated by your strength, your brutality. Mary woke up from your assault on her-”

“She attacked me first” Jessica interrupted 

“I’m not here to discuss that matter. I’m here because I want you to work for me. I’ve been in need of a new enforcer ever since the last one betrayed me…” Vanessa slyly looked to the half-undressed Madame Masque at her side, the once skilled criminal mastermind was now her bitch. “...Mary wanted to kill you, but I am holding her off for now…under the condition you accept. Should you refuse I am certain she will enslave you, or worse, sooner or later. She’s remarkably persistent” 

“You want me to work for you?” Jessica asked in surprise. 

“Yes. Just name your price” Vanessa replied

Well there was no saying no. Jessica shrugged to push any morality out of mind. “My price is whatever you’ve got to drink” 

Vanessa nodded in agreement to the terms. “Your first task will be given tomorrow. Remember that failure to do it will make our deal void” 

————————————————————— 

Jessica sat across from Trish in the cafeteria, silently not-eating her dinner. She would have been in no mood to eat even if Wanda’s cooking didn’t taste like shit.

Holding the bottle of bourbon Vanessa had given her, she reflected on everything that had transpired in the last few hours. How could she agree to work for the wife of New York’s most infamous mobster? Maybe when it came down to it everyone threw out morality for self-preservation. ‘Lesson number two: in prison you learn to make do fast’ Trish’s second lesson. Jessica saw what she meant. Faintly, a man’s voice whispered into Jess’ ear: ‘Orange really isn’t your colour.’ He was back. 

“You really should eat” Trish advised while taking a bite of the slop on her tray and promptly washing it down with water. Jessica ignored her. “Or just starve yourself”

Jessica opened the bottle of bourbon. “I'll be having a liquid dinner, thanks.”

“You ever think you might drink too much?” Trish asked in unison with the other voice. No response from Jessica. She was too busy caught up in a mental conversation to pay any attention

‘It's the only way I get through my goddamn days after what you did to me’ Jessica answered the man’s question. As if acknowledging him invited him in, she faintly imagined him sitting at the table too. A handsome slim man wearing a purple suit, Kilgrave smiled to himself. 

‘You blame me for your drinking problem?’ He asked in his English accent. 

‘It's the truth .’ Jessica cognitively replied. 

Kilgrave leaned back in his imaginary seat. ‘ Come on, it wasn't all bad. I mean, it certainly ended poorly but we did have some fun.’

‘You call me snapping your neck ‘ended poorly’? I call that a happy ending.’ Jessica was growing even more irritated. 

Kilgrave scoffed. ‘Whatever happened to the plucky and sanctimonious Jessica Jones? Now you’re all doom and gloom. I suppose I did create some problems for you…but does that really justify murder? Doesn’t it weigh on you? Doesn’t the feeling of my neck snapping in your hand still haunt you?’ 

‘No’ Jessica said flatly. 

‘I’m inside your head, Jessica. We both know that isn’t true. Why else don’t you sleep anymore? Don’t tell me it’s over sending you sister here. Quite frankly, she was loose a few marbles even before she killed those people.’ Kilgrave emerged behind her and brought himself close against her back. Leaning against her, his hot breath burned her skin. 

Jessica endured the memory of Kilgrave long enough. ‘Main Street…’

‘Here we go again…’ Kilgrave sighed

‘Birch Street…’

‘This never keeps me away for long. ’ Kilgrave wasn’t pleading for her to stop. He (or technically Jessica herself) knew there was no keeping him gone. 

‘Higgins Drive…’

Kilgrave smiled , accepting his temporary reprieve. ‘You know the prison you send me to in the pit of your mind each time you do this pales in comparison to the prison you’re in. I take a nap in your subconscious and you…you sell drugs and beat people unconscious. Which of us is the monster now?’

‘Cobalt Lane’ Jessica finished her chant and Kilgrave slowly vanished into a fog of purple like he had numerous times before. 

Chapter Text

Cassie Lang had been having a pretty good year. She turned 18, graduated from high school, and was successfully balancing a superhero career and love life as she prepared to start college in the fall. She was a sweet girl who loved to help people, but that's unfortunately what got the better of her. Just last week, she'd finally been caught by the police while helping some orphans escape a burning building, and thanks to the Sokovia Accords' rules, now found herself being shipped off to the Raft where she'd start her indefinite sentence. The soon to be college student with a bright future and loving boyfriend (who she was considering asking to take her virginity) was now a prisoner, and a terrified one at that as she was led to intake.

Whether fortunate or not, she wasn’t the only new arrival to the desolate ocean prison. Trapped in lockstep behind her was Amy Bendix. A 19 year old street-smart grifter with a history of petty crime, she’d had a run-in with The Punisher years prior that got her off the path of crime…for a week. She just couldn’t help herself. With a lack of a record beyond some petty crimes, she probably would have only gotten community service if she hadn’t had the bright idea to steal and vandalise Daredevil’s suit. Her motivation? Boredom. She wasn’t paid by some big criminal or mob. It just kinda sounded like a fun idea. For all the fun she had, the court wasn’t merciful to someone with a superhero related crime and so she was taken to her new home, facing five years in the harshest women’s prison on the planet. Not that she was scared. The march down the imposing hall towards intake by tough guards elicited little more than an eye-roll from the young criminal. She figured outside of prison she didn’t have much of a future anyway.

Cassie was trembling as she looked around, already scared of the guards and her fellow inmate. The girl next to her seemed so tough and scary... She was far from the scariest woman in the prison as Cassie would soon find out.

She was so scared and she knew she couldn't stay silent, otherwise she'd have a full blown panic attack. So she spoke. "H-hey... I'm Cassie. What's your name?"

Amy looked Cassie over, assessing her. She had enough experience with ex-incarcerated people that she knew a danger when she saw one. Cassie was not one of those people.

“The names Amy. Amy Bendix. Whatcha in for, Cassie? Not to be rude but you don’t exactly seem like the hardened criminal type” 

Cassie bit her lip and shook her head. Amy actually didn't seem that bad now that she was talking. She seemed like a potential friend. "I'm not... I was just helping people. I'm a- was a superhero... How about you?"

“A superhero? Really? Ok” Amy sounded unconvinced. “I maybe stole Daredevi’s costume” She flippantly answered with pride. 

Cassie raised an eyebrow and scoffed, letting her prissy side start to show. "Seriously? You committed an actual crime, stealing somebody's property, and I'm getting put in prison along with you for saving some kids? How long are you here for anyway?"

Amy didn’t appreciate the judgemental tone. She was in a supermax prison and the first person she met just had to be a posh prissy girl. “Yeah so what? It was a killer suit. It’s pretty stupid I got five years for costume theft.”

Cassie felt her heart sink, eyes going wide as she scoffed again. "Five years?! I'm in here indefinitely! Maybe forever! I heard the guards make a joke about me having grey hair when I get out!!!" Apparently talking just made the panic worse…

Amy didn’t really know how to help alleviate the panic so she responded with an unhelpful anecdote. “Indefinitely? Y’know, I actually knew a girl named Shantel who got life. Last I heard she started a new permanent job picking up trash on the side of the highway. Wait no that was someone else! Shantel got stabbed in the showers” The story was horrifying, but Amy relayed it like she was sharing what she had for breakfast. 

Cassie's lip started to quiver as she resumed trembling, the thought of getting stabbed filling her with dread. "What?! Why... why would you tell me that?! I don't wanna know that! I... I... I can't be in prison! I can't! I just can't! I'm not meant for this! I won't survive in here! I'm... I'm a toothpick! They'll destroy me!"

“What? You’re the one who brought up life sentences. I’m pretty sure panicking isn’t gonna help you survive” Amy said as they both were stopped at the door. She felt a little bad for Cassie, but they did just meet so her sympathy was pretty limited. She was about to say something else when the door drew open and they were both ordered to enter. 

“Hate to cut your little get-to-know-each-other chat short, but we need to get you both searched” one of two women in the room said gleefully. Sarah Weaver bid the other guards to remove the shackles that bound Amy and Cassie and then to kindly leave. 

Cassie gasped as the door closed, blushing as she prepared to be searched. What if they made her take off her clothes?

Renee Winters, Weaver's fellow guard, resisted the urge to smack Amy's plump rear end. She'd have her chance to feel her up in a minute.

Weaver held no such reserve as she stepped behind Cassie and squeezed her cute, albeit small, butt. “Wow, Renee, I almost feel bad for these two…”

Cassie gasped and pulled away as her butt was squeezed. She immediately felt sick. "Hey! Y-you're not supposed to do that! I have rights! And what do you mean you feel bad?"

Renee chuckled and turned to Weaver. "We should be in the security room when Tiny Butt has her first shower. That's gonna be fun to watch on the cameras."

Weaver ignored Cassie’s question as she responded to Renee, “I bet you that she's going to end up under at least three girls”

Cassie gasped, believing she knew what that meant. Her biggest fear right now was being stabbed in the showers. She was so naive. "Under? Like a pile of bodies?"

“There are cameras in the showers?” Amy asked, undisturbed by the rest of what was said as she took off her sweater. Her heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of the prison showers. Strong naked women being washed under the hot stream by their slaves. Passionate moans. The sound of the new bitch’s butt being slapped as she bent down to pick up soap that she dropped. It took her a moment to drift back to reality. Only she truly knew if she’d stolen that costume in an attempt to fulfil her biggest fantasy.  

Renee chuckled and shook her head at Cassie and Amy’s reactions, then turned to Weaver.

"Should we let them strip themselves, or do it for them?"

Weaver considered the question carefully. “It looks like Amy is excited, but I feel like Tiny Butt here may need some help.”

Cassie only looked more confused, but didn't have time to ask more as she gasped at the second part. "N-no! I don't need help! I can undress myself! I do it everyday!"

Renee studied Amy's face, realizing that Weaver was saying. She was totally into this, wasn't she? "You heard her. Remove your clothes. Underwear and everything."

Weaver held Cassie still and said earnestly: “Don’t worry. I’m more than happy to help you” 

And while Weaver was more than happy to help Cassie undress, Amy was more than happy to strip for Renee. “Underwear too? Got it. See I just assumed this strip search would be done with us clothed. Good to know”She brattily remarked while lowering her jeans. It wasn’t the best idea to provoke the guards but she didn’t care. 

Renee frowned. Normally she'd threaten to "help her" strip in response, but Amy would probably cream her pants. "Watch the sarcasm..."

Amy looked a little annoyed that Renee caught on so fast. She thought to herself about how she wanted Cassie’s guard as her pants fell to the ground and she next moved to unhook her white bra. 

Cassie whimpered as she was touched, shaking her head in fear. "P-please... I've never been naked in front of somebody else before..."

“Trust me, you’ll get used to it soon enough. There’s no privacy in prison” Weaver chuckled at Cassie’s expense. “I’m a lot gentler than the women in the yard will be” Her hand found the zipper to Cassie’s quantum suit and she tugged it down without any further ado. Unfortunately (for Cassie) wearing underwear with the suit rode up her in an incredibly uncomfortably way so she always just did away with them. The second her suit was unzipped, she was totally naked, perky curves on full display. She immediately flung to cover herself with her arms.

"W-why would the other women take my clothes off though?" Cassie asked blankly.

Weaver gave Renee a look very similar to the one Renee had given her when the Arachnachicks had first arrived. The unmistakable look that said ‘she’s going to be eaten alive.’ It was one they shared any time a naive new ex-superhero found themselves entering the harsh realities of incarcerated life. Cassie seemed particularly dense though.

“Hmm how do I put this delicately? They’d take your clothes off because they want to see you naked” Weaver stated the obvious as her hands traced along Cassie’s hips, her right hand eventually settling just above the hand Cassie was using to cover her womanhood.

Cassie gasped, then cringed at Weaver's tracing, uncomfortable shivers shooting through her as the hand settled."Wait... there are lesbians here? But they'll know I'm not gay, right?"

Weaver could have pressed Cassie, telling her everything she needed to know. Often she gained favour with desperate inmates by promising the highest protection there was, that created by a guard, but this time she had something else in mind. Why tell her everything that would happen when she could just wait and see for herself. 

“Only if you tell them. They’ll leave you alone if you're straight” Weaver lied as she held Cassie uncomfortably close. Her hand pushed Cassie’s aside until she was touching the lips of her pussy. 

Cassie did start to relax a bit, genuinely believing that to be true. She then gasped as the outside of her pussy was touched. "Wait... I'm a virgin..."

“Not for long you aren’t” Weaver whispered in Cassie’s ear as her fingers ventured in for a deep cavity search. Everything down there was so smooth, the impermanent standard for new arrivals.

Meanwhile, Renee just stood there, admiring Amy's curvy butt and nice cleavage. Waiting for the chance to feel her up. The girl would enjoy it, so she'd just have to enjoy it even more.

“This would have gone so much faster if you’d helped,” Amy pouted. She unhooked her bra and shook her sizable tits for Renee’s amusement. She would of course deny that any of this was an act of promiscuity. She took to removing her sneakers before her underwear just to prolong this a little more. 

Renee felt her heart start to pound at the sight of her tits popping free, the shaking pushing her close to obliging Amy's request."You're gonna be popular in there... Not as popular as Tiny Butt, but popular..." 

Amy feigned fear at Renee’s remark. Wanting to get a detailed description because it excited her, she asked: “What will they do with me?” She peeled off her socks and then at last prepared to lower her underwear.

Renee smirked, feeling like she could indulge herself and Amy a little. "They'll slap the soap out of your hands in the showers, surround you, and go to town on your body. Groping your breasts, shoving their fingers deeper inside you than you ever thought possible. You'll be sore and scared, knowing it's only the beginning."

“I shouldn’t be this turned on right now…” Amy thought aloud, whether intentional or not was impossible to tell. At that moment she dropped her panties and finally stood completely bare without any attempt to preserve her dignity. Unlike Cassie, her crotch wasn’t completely unshaven but nowhere near as messy as the ones she hoped she’d become well acquainted with. 

Renee chuckled, admiring the girl's sexy curves and nicely hairy crotch, reaching out and beginning her own cavity search. Less rough than Cassie's, but not gentle either.

“Be sure to tell the other girls that..."

Amy smiled ever so slightly as Renee finally touched her. A little softer than the submissive criminal would have liked, but maybe it would get better. 

Cassie squeaked as Weaver explored her body, gasping louder as the finger started venturing deeper. The girl wasn't a total prude, she'd touched herself, but never had another person enter her before. She'd often imagined her first time as being a beautiful and romantic occasion, with rose petals and sweet words and gentle penetration.The rough fingering in the cold and grey intake room wasn't what she fantasised about.

Weaver’s fingers began furiously rubbing back and forth between Cassie’s folds, overwhelmingly, uncomfortably fast. Cassie was right in thinking that this was the farthest thing from romantic. This may not have been what she fantasised about, but Weaver certainly did. The pathetic little cries of shock Cassie made were such a turn on

Cassie continued to make those pitiful cries, any feelings of pleasure she might have gained overriden by the overwhelming roughness. "P- please... I'm not hiding anything up there."

“Sorry can’t trust that you didn’t use one of those shrinking discs to hide something up here” Weaver said as she just kept going. 

Cassie whined, really wishing her power was the ability to prove she wasn't lying. "But I didn't..."

Weaver knew that Cassie wasn’t hiding anything but didn’t care.

Renee continued to search Amy, getting a little indulgent from time to time, but mostly just doing her job. "So you a virgin too? Or is Tiny Butt the only loser in the room?"

“Well I mean technically yeah I have never slept with anyone” Amy answered as she watched Weaver and Cassie and wished that Renee was doing the same to her. She felt Renee’s finger rub across her clit, but she wanted to be roughed up. This was prison. Things here were supposed to be wild and rough. 

Renee smiled in amusement as she continued to gently rub along Amy's pussy, and unlike Weaver, she was satisfied. "You're good, not-loser. Time for the back."

Amy swiftly turned around, wiggling her butt for her guard. Being a virgin, she’d never actually had anything go up that end so was pretty surprised by how much it hurt when Renee shoved her gloved finger in her pucker. 

“Fuck” She cursed, but not in euphoria. As the next finger went up she realised this hurt a lot . She was into it, but it was deeply unexpected. She stumbled and strained as she tried to get used to it.

Renee grunted in approval as Amy wiggled her butt, cheeks jiggling before her. She grunted again at the feeling of how tight she was, and she saw an opportunity at her clear discomfort.

"You put on a good show. If you ever get tired of having fists shoved up your butt, I'd be happy to offer protection in exchange for a nice dance." One with lots of twerking…

Amy squirmed with every painful little move Renee’s fingers made up her rear. Her breaths were heavy now as she tried to ignore just how much this hurt. This time she did unintentionally shake her butt as she stumbled on her toes, trying to balance herself. This wasn’t quite unbearable but it wasn’t pleasant…which made it amazing. “I-I’ll do it…but not for protection” She said through ragged breaths. 

Renee laughed, beginning to be just a little more rough with it. "I know... You'll do it because you're a slut..."

“mmmm…I’m a slut” Amy moaned, going all in on her role as prison bitch. She bended over just a little further as Renee got a bit more rough. Now this is what she had wanted.

And just like that… "Clean.” Renee was done, the guard began to inspect Amy's mouth without changing gloves

“Are you kidding-”

Amy groaned. She knew Renee absolutely stopped just to mess with her. Her complaint was cut short though as the tainted gloved hand was shoved in her mouth and a torch was shined in her face to properly illuminate the search.

“Someone’s enjoying themself” Weaver teased at how involuntarily wet Cassie currently was at her accelerated touch. The slicking sounds of her tempo were noticeable, as was how close the small-time hero was. 

Cassie blushed hard at that, shaking her head and grunting in denial... but she knew it was starting to feel pretty good. 

It was invasive, Cassie would definitely be sore after, but a small part of her was looking forward to the release. That’s just when Weaver abruptly stopped, withdrawing her hand and bending Cassie over. If she wanted to be a virgin so badly, who was Weaver to stand in the way of that. Instead of losing her virginity in a drab grey room to a guard, she could lose it to a gang of horny inmates. But there was one form of virginity she would lose. Weaver rammed three fingers up Cassie’s butt with a painful pop . 

Cassie felt conflicted about Weaver stopping when she did, now desperately horny, even if she was happy she could still call herself a- "Gaaaah!" Cassie's eyes welled up with tears as her butt was painfully penetrated, shutting her eyes and letting out whiny "ows" as her anal virginity was taken.

“Oh yeah you’ve never had anything back here! Sorry about that” Weaver sarcastically apologised as she shoved another finger in and probed around for non-existent contraband to the melody of Cassie’s pain.

Cassie was fully crying now, the extra finger enough to send her over the edge. But she just had to make it out if intake... then this would never happen again. Totally not. 

It would in fact happen again. Daily. Cassie could at least be ignorant of that for now. Weaver was just an awful perverted guard in an otherwise fair prison system that focused on rehabilitation of super-villains. It was a comforting thought as her butt was violently probed. 

Weaver finally stopped and let the crying Cassie pause a moment before the search continued elsewhere. 

Before long, both women had their searches completed and were handed their uniforms. Cassie put hers on quick, desperate for clothes, even as her speed made the soreness in her butt more apparent. Her face was very red and puffy from the crying.

Renee watched happily as Amy changed, walking over to her and whispering in her ear. "We're doing mugshots next. Strike a pose for Mommy."

Amy took slow, but eager, steps over to the chart as her throbbing butt ached. Once Weaver had set the camera to precisely how she wanted it (she was a surprisingly talented photographer after all) Amy held her sign up and stared into the camera flash. The annoyed, pouty expression concealed her true feelings well. Her look was the ultimate epitome of “whatever.” When her mugshots were taken she stood by Renee. 

Renee smiled shyly as she saw the look Amy gave, resisting the urge to do a self-cavity search as she blew the girl a kiss.

Amy looked at Renee and fiddled absent-mindedly at her brand new orange jumpsuit as she imagined all the fun she’d have in prison. 

“Undo all of the buttons on your jumpsuits, Lang” Weaver ordered. 

Cassie gasped for the hundredth time that day. “W-what?! But... but aren't mugshots public?! What if my parents see? I already look miserable!"

“Undo. The. Jumpsuit. Weaver smiled wickedly. She added a small consolation: “Besides, this is a blacksite so only staff will be able to access any records, including images. Your parents won’t see this, but I can’t promise we won’t pass around the image in the break room later”

Cassie whimpered, then did as she was asked, walking over and posing for her mugshot. She was frowning, clearly upset and humiliated.

Weaver snapped the teary pictures of Cassie with her jumpsuit wide open, planning on adding them to her personal collage later. She found that the images really expressed the pure unrivalled humiliation and defeat of weak new inmates while Amy’s were more of a rebellious vibe. 

“Come look” Weaver beckoned Cassie to look at her own mugshots. Cassie whimpered and wiped away a couple tears, walking over with a slight limp from the earlier search.Her lip quivered at the sight of what she'd become, turning to Weaver with a rather bratty glare.

"You're a monster..."

Weaver was completely unfazed by being called a ‘monster’ but she didn’t care for the fact that Cassie couldn’t appreciate her skill at the camera. She wasn’t too humble to admit that she turned boring mugshots into glam shots. “And you’re an inmate for life” She happily fired back

Cassie's face fell, and if you looked closely, you could pinpoint the exact moment she broke. "N-no... They... they said indefinitely... That doesn't m-mean life..."

Weaver shot her a bemused look. “Yeah hate to break it to you but you aren’t ever getting out” 

She then began to sob. Like full on sob, shaking her head in denial. "You don't know that! You don't! You're not in charge! Don't say things just to hurt my feelings."

Renee smirked, looking over at Weaver to share her amusement.

Weaver nodded in annoyance. She hated it when they cried. It was always so awkward. She exclusively preferred the periods where she was either allowed to play with them, or she could force them to eat her out. There was also making them jump rope while nude, but she saved that for a certain big green inmate. 

Amy watched Cassie cry with similar annoyance. She just wanted to get to meet her new sexy cellmate already. Watching her cry would only have been interesting if she was sobbing while underneath someone. This was just uncomfortable. 

“Alright time to get you both to your new home. Lang, you’ll either start walking by yourself or I’ll have to make you” Weaver said. 

Was Cassie acting a bit childish? Maybe, but she was an only child with an overly affectionate dad. She was spoiled... oh yeah, and was facing life in prison! Her outburst was a little justified. She continued to cry, shaking her head at the thought of being made to walk, however that would happen. So she began to walk and hoped that her new cellmate wouldn't be someone completely terrifying.

And off they went to Cellblock C. Walking slowly down the long hall past cells full of the world’s worst, Cassie and Amy were greeted by the impassioned jeers of the inhabitants. The inmates rattled the bars as they said every vulgar thing imaginable. Amy unsurprisingly enjoyed the warm (violent) welcome. With each cell ahead she wondered if it was where they would stop. 

Cassie didn't enjoy it one bit. Every step made her feel more and more anxious as she feared who her cellmate would be. She was very thankful when they passed Hela, who stared at her with a menacing glare. She couldn't imagine bunking with her.

Amy was about to tease Cassie but stopped when the worn down butt of a cigarette hit her in the face, thrown by a member of The Daughters of Hel. Amy only scowled and gave the assailant the finger as she marched out of range. 

Cassie blushed as Amy flipped the assailant off. She was tough, and it made Cassie feel inadequate. Why couldn't she be that tough?

She let out a soft cough as the cigarette smoke hit her nose, only for Ava Starr to flash a creepy smile at her from her cell. "Can't take tobacco, little girl? Just wait until I get ahold of you. I'll make you smoke an entire pack..."

Cassie didn't like that idea one bit.

“I’d let you pet my pussy…” Felicia Hardy sultrily purred to the newcomers as she stroked the bars. Amy admittedly found the wordplay funny. 

Cassie turned to Amy in shock, unable to comprehend how she could find any of this funny. "Why are you laughing? You're not scared? These are like... big time criminals."

“I know but like c’mon cat, pussy. That isn’t funny to you?” Amy was crude enough to fit right in. She was in partial disbelief that this wouldn’t be someone’s paradise. 

Cassie stared at Amy blankly. She didn't like dirty jokes, and couldn't relate to Amy's sense of humor. "No... N-not trying to be mean. Just... It's not funny. It's weird."

“Whatever you say, princess” Amy shrugged and resorted to name-calling 

“You’re cute. What're you in for, cheating on your college paper? Actually, wait that could be a Raft worthy offence at this point” A very naked Darcy Lewis remarked to Cassie as she straightened her glasses. 

Cassie scoffed, prissy and bratty side rearing its ugly head and she stomped her foot. "I'm not a princess!"

She would then turned to Darcy, blushing at her nakedness and compliment. "Um... thank you, and no. I... didn't get a chance to go to college. Not yet... I saved some kids from a fire."

“Brag much, princess? You’re just so much better than everyone here, right?” Amy said snidely. She had only known Cassie for thirty minutes and already she was sick of “little ms. perfect.” It wasn’t a fair assessment, but to her it seemed like Cassie devalued her totally awesome crime of stealing a superhero costume by being incarcerated for doing something actually self-less. 

Cassie's jaw dropped as she heard Amy tease her, turning to the girl with an embarrassed blush and incredulous expression. "She asked, and y-yeah. I'm a superhero. Of course  I'm better than all of you!" So much for maybe making friends with Amy. This girl was awful. Cassie announcing that she was better than everyone maybe wasn’t the best idea. Amy already knew the onslaught of random stuff being thrown was incoming and ducked just in time to make the incoming emptied cardboard toilet paper roll hit Cassie instead. After that she lost track of what exactly was being tossed out of the cells. 

Cassie gasped as the first object hit her head, then shrieked at the ensuing attack from every nearby inmate, she took off running, desperate for a safe place to hide and wishing she had some pym particles right now.

Weaver stopped her from going too far and pulled her a stop, coincidentally just outside her designated cell. Renee escorted Amy over as well and Amy faced a haunting realisation. “Wait, I have to share a cell with her?!” She cried out in complete horror. 

Cassie gasped again as Weaver stopped her, turning to the cell before turning to Amy. "We're sharing a cell?"

There were worse people to share a cell with... but Cassie would be lying if she said she didn't have a little hope of maybe getting a sweet cellmate.

Amy couldn’t imagine a worse person to have to share a cell with. “Can’t I be with someone less…annoying” she whined to Renee. 

Cassie's lip quivered as Amy insulted her, but she figured if this was gonna be her cellmate for the next five years, she should probably get on her good side. "M-maybe we got off on the wrong foot... Do you wanna... try being friends?"

Renee chuckled, leaning in to whisper in Amy's ear. "Don't worry. No way you aren't both claimed and living in new cells as sex slaves within the week."

Amy grinned at Renee's comforting words. It boosted her mood enough that she sighed and said to Cassie: “Yeah sure…I guess. But it’s off as soon as you try and act all self-righteous.”

She saw no harm in at least trying to get along with her if they were going to share a cell. They hopefully wouldn't be cellmates long anyway. 

Both entered and then the barred door was locked shut. Renee took one last look at Amy's butt before walking off with Weaver, leaving Cassie and Amy alone. Cassie immediately turned to Amy and said what Weaver told her to.

Cassie felt her face fall. She wasn't trying to act self-righteous. She was just being herself. Her self-righteous self. "I'm straight... so... d-don't get any bright ideas."

Amy silently stared daggers at her for a long pause, her small-yet-intimidating visage unblinking. In a fearsome tone, entirely unlike Cassie had previously heard, she said: “Is that right? Well sucks for you because no one’s straight in prison. I hope for your sake you learn that fast because for the next five years you’re my little bitch. Those pretty lips of yours will be kissing my tits. I’m going to shove whatever I find up that tight butt of yours and then sell you for cigarettes in the yard, princess.” Amy maintained a serious tone just long enough to finish her threat before she broke down in hysterical laughter at the horrified expression on Cassie’s face. She looked so cute when terrified of being forced into a lesbian relationship. “You should see the look on your face! I’m just fucking with you! I’m more of a sub. Great reaction though”

Cassie's face went from absolutely terrified to slightly nervous as she erupted into laughs of relief. Her hands moved to her still sore butt, the mention of things being shoved inside it reminding her of the painful cavity search. "Oh! Oh good. I was really scared there for a second. Yeah, can you even imagine? That would be so horrible. Spending five years like that... or the rest of my life..." Oh Cassie. Sweet, innocent Cassie. If she only knew what the future had in store for her.

Amy nodded with disinterest. “Yeah the latter seems pretty likely. You’re gonna die in here. So you’re related to that Ant-dude?” She casually said something awful then shifted topics. 

Cassie stared silently, her heart racing as her stomach dropped. She wanted to just stay quiet and not start a debate, but she couldn't control it."Take it back..."

“So is that a no or…?” Amy assumed Cassie meant the second topic. 

Cassie huffed and shook her head. "No, I mean... he's my dad, and I'm gonna see him again when I get out of here... before I die... Okay?" She then started chewing her lip, not wanting to sound too rude. "Sorry... I just... please don't scare me. I'm gonna get out someday."

“Ok fine” Amy replied but didn’t apologise. In her mind, she was just being realistic about the situation. 

Cassie was not gonna be realistic. Even though every sign was pointing to her spending the rest of her miserable life in prison, she didn't wanna hear one word. "T-thank you... So, uh. How did you... become a criminal?"

“Kinda a long story. My parents died when I was young, grew up in real shitty foster care and then I started running a few cons for a crew. Had to drop out of High School, not that it was a good one anyways, and yeah you get the picture. The crew’s all dead now so I’ve pretty much been on my own since then. I actually wanted to go into Marine Salvage but that obviously didn’t work out” Amy replied. She hated thinking about herself as anything besides a remorseless criminal so the trip down trauma lane was far from pleasant. 

Cassie had always known there were people who lived that kind of life, but she'd never experienced it for herself. She had a loving family. Friends. A good sense of right and wrong.

So hearing that story made her feel awful, the dorky blonde opening her arms for a hug as she stared into Amy's soul with puppy dog eyes.

Amy recoiled. Off-put by the prospect of a hug more than she was being assaulted in the yard. “Uh what are you doing?”

Cassie continued holding her tight, believing Amy to be comforted by it. "Your life is sad. I'm hugging you..."

“Please get off me or I will make you my bitch” Amy groaned. 

Cassie immediately pulled away, whimpering as she stared at Amy with wide eyes."I'm sorry! I... thought it would make you feel better."

She then turned away and began inspecting the room, wanting to take her mind off that interaction. It was disgusting, smelly, and small. A single toilet next to a set of bunk beds. She couldn't imagine peeing and other stuff with Amy right there.

Amy took in the room and felt right at home in her new environment. Believe it or not, it wasn’t even the worst place she’d slept. That honour went to an alleyway when she was homeless for a month. In truth, this prison cell seemed quite cosy. 

“Oh top bunk is mine by the way” she spoke as she looked out the window at the crashing waves below. The scenic view was nice. 

Cassie smiled, glad to have an order from Amy she'd be happy to comply with. "Cool! I'm scared of the top bunk anyway." The little wimp then sat down on the bottom bunk, watching Amy watch the waves. "You're actually not the worst person to spend five years with."

“Thanks” Amy smiled back. She could have returned the sentiment but she didn’t feel that way at all. Cassie was a bummer. She turned once again to look out at the horizon. The ocean vast surrounded them, reaching out as far as the eye could see. It settled in her mind that the outside world was impossibly far away. There was no hope of escape. For five whole years she’d be helplessly locked away on the metallic island. This was great! She parted from the window and climbed up her bunk, shaking the entire meagre frame of the bed. As she scaled the fragile build she nearly kicked Cassie in the face. 

Cassie gasped, cringing as she ducked out of the way. She wisely chose not to mention it. "So, uh... Do you wanna sit with me at breakfast?"

Amy shrugged, getting comfortable on her bed. “Yeah that works. Thanks”

Cassie sighed softly with relief, glad she wouldn't have to relive the familiar panic of not knowing who to sit by at breakfast. "You're welcome!" The terrible dread of a future spent behind bars would return with full force once the lights went out and Cassie was left in darkness, but for now, she felt pretty good.

The following morning and all the horrific prospects it held seemingly came in an instant. At one moment the entire prison had been completely silent, it was the only point in the day where it was like that, and then with an alert there was a collective sigh. Steadily the inmates rose from their beds, got dressed if they so wished, and gathered by the bars to await release. Every morning was like this and it would be so for the rest of Cassie’s life. 

Amy though rose with a yawn, tired but excited. She generally preferred to sleep long into the day, but that wasn’t really an option for the next five years. Although she groaned at such a premature awakening, she reminded herself of everything she had to look forward to today. 

“Morning” She muttered to Cassie as she stood over the strange sink (which unpleasantly sat atop the toilet) and brushed her teeth.

Cassie rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up in her uncomfortable bed, the opposite of well rested after a night of overthinking things. Or as some would argue, underthinking it. She was still in denial about the fact she'd never be leaving. "Ugh. Morning... I didn't know they did wake up calls. I'm supposed to get at least seven hours of sleep."

“Seven hours? What time did you fall asleep?” Amy asked with toothpaste still in her mouth. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately the previous night.

Cassie whined, shyly rubbing her arm. "I think around midnight..." It was actually more like 2am, but there wasn't a clock or phone in this cell.

Amy spit the toothpaste out and then turned around to face the bars. She freshened up her dark brown hair and then lowered the zipper on her jumpsuit until anyone could have a generous view of her breasts but not quite see everything. “Lower or is this good?”

Cassie got out of bed and walked over to the sink, her jumpsuit zipped all the way up. She turned to look at Amy, then gasped at the sight of her exposed breasts. "H-higher! Your... boobs are out!"

Amy rolled her eyes. “No shit. Pretend you’re a lesbian and then answer the question”

Cassie blushed. She either hadn't remembered or realised Amy was gay. She was probably really into this . "...that's good."

“Thanks. You’ll get used to it eventually” Amy was in fact really into this. Now all she had to do was wait for the cell to open and then find someone. 

Cassie walked up beside her, uncomfortable with the partial nudity and trying to avoid eye contact. She then replied to Amy, though it was unclear if she misunderstood what she was getting at. "So you're gonna have your boobs showing all the time. N-no judgement."

There would be lots of judgement.  “Yeah, gotta advertise myself out to any interested inmates. I mean I’m pretty sure I would get claimed either way, but I want to speed things up a bit” 

Amy turned to face Cassie just to annoy her with the sight.  “Believe me, your tits are gonna be out a lot too” Cassie stared in disbelief, unable to relate to the desire to be claimed. "But we'll still be roommates, right?" She then blushed and looked away, not wanting to see the boobs in front of her. "And yeah, like in the showers and stuff... But the guard told me just to tell people I'm straight. I'll be okay.”

Amy chuckled at how naive Cassie was being. “We'll probably be roommates until one of us gets claimed. But yeah you should be fine if you just tell them you’re straight. I’m sure every good willing lesbian will respect that. No flaws in logic there” 

She said sarcastically. The doors opened and she stepped out and took her place in line. 

The anxiety spread throughout Cassie's entire body now. She was at the very beginning of starting to accept her place, and even thought she and Amy might make a fun "opposites attract" best friend duo like in a sitcom. But this wasn't a sitcom. This was a fetish st- this was real life, and Cassie felt truly scared, like any illusions she had of this being a remotely good time had washed away. "Oh…”

Chapter Text

The breakfast hall was unimpressive. A large hall of rows of dirty tables with cameras all along the walls, the room simultaneously seemed high-tech and worn-down. There were mounted guards patrolling above watching the lines of inmates slowly moving along to get their meal and then splitting into segregated groups at their respective tables. Despite the spacious size, everything seemed congested (much like the showers). Cassie inspected every table, quickly noticing the segregated groups. It was strange to the girl, who'd grown up in a pretty inclusive area."Where do you think we should sit?The tables look pretty full."

“We could sit with her” Amy said in a dream-like tone as she stared at Carol Danvers’ table. She felt a little overwhelmed with how many options there were. 

Cassie followed her eyes to Carol. It wasn't a terrible idea. She always seemed a little intimidating, but ultimately seemed nice. "Yeah, let's do that."

Amy nodded and looked ahead just as her turn in line came up. She was surprised by who was currently messily ladling a serving of a strange greyish porridge: Wanda Maximoff. Tired and dishevelled she’d clearly had a bit of a downward spiral since when she was an Avenger. The witch said nothing but Amy was still pretty impressed when she saw her use a small spell to place a slice of bread. The interaction was silent and short, Wanda was in no mood to talk after the morning she’d had, and so it was Cassie's turn.

Cassie wasn't as smart as Amy. She'd met Wanda a couple times through her father, and always thought she was fun. To see her like this was... awful. "Hi Wanda... I heard about what happened, and I am so sorry..."

Wanda tilted her head and looked at Cassie. “...Thank you” She said with apprehension, but not quite mad. She would be fine as long as Cassie didn’t directly mention Westview or Kamar-Taj, or, worse, her children. 

Cassie smiled and, while patiently awaiting her okay looking food, decided more chit chat was in order "I think people should have been a little more understanding... I can't imagine what would happen if I lost kids like that."

Wanda tensed and her eyes glew a faint red as she unintentionally threw the ladle against the wall in a burst of chaos magic. “Go! Next person!” She snapped. Cassie’s tray sat only a quarter the amount of the usual portion. Wanda was doing her best to not hurt Cassie like she would anyone else that brought that topic up, but it probably came off like one of her usual psychotic tantrums. 

Cassie gasped as she tried to keep from hyperventilating. She'd never seen Wanda so scary, and was immediately beginning to see why she was in here. "I'm sorry!" She didn't care that there was barely any food, she just grabbed her tray and ran off to find Amy.

The only issue is that Cassie couldn’t find Amy. She was lost somewhere in the forest of inmates finding their tables. Cassie’s aimless wandering was abruptly stopped by a silent Choctaw woman, Maya Lopez, who nearly knocked the tray out of her hands before just standing in her way making heavy eye contact. 

<Hello, new fish> Maya signed with a smirk on her face. 

Cassie felt anxiety gnaw at her stomach as she searched for Amy, leading to a shriek at the sight of the woman. "Oh, I... I don't speak sign language. I'm sorry... Maybe someone could translate?"

<I’m going to make you my bitch. Watch your back in the showers> Maya shoved her against the wall, causing poor Cassie to spill her breakfast on her jumpsuit. The essence of what Maya was signing wasn’t difficult to understand for anyone with the slightest of prison knowledge, but Cassie lacked that. 

Could Maya have just gotten someone to translate? Yes. But she didn’t like being dependent on people, especially in her current environment. 

Cassie shrieked again, staring at Maya with terrified eyes. She kept her mouth shut, assuming the woman had just misread her lips. 

<What? Are you scared, new girl? Scared to be my bitch…you don’t understand anything I’m saying, do you?> Maya signed uncomfortably close to Cassie’s face. It was hard being mute in prison.

Cassie pushed her head back against the wall, trying not to get accidentally smacked in the face.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're saying. I took like two days of sign language lessons and then quit."

Maya grew increasingly more annoyed and so dealt with it in only the most rational and reasonable way she knew how. She ripped the jumpsuit of Cassie’s food-stained jumpsuit all the way down, shoved her hand down the front to briefly grope her womanhood, and then stepped back. It seemed like the only way to relay what she planned on doing with her. The guards from their posts saw what happened but didn’t care to stop it. As long as Maya didn’t kill Cassie there was no cause for alarm. 

Cassie squealed as her jumpsuit was yanked out, gasping before going silent as she was groped. It wasn’t painful like the cavity search, but made her feel very uncomfortable. She bit down hard on her lip, scared little whimpers escaping her lips before she remembered what she was supposed to say.

"Wait! I'm straight! I'm straight!"

<Yeah, but I’m not> Maya replied simply despite Cassie not understanding what she was saying.

Amy had been trying way too hard to come on to a disinterested Proxima Midnight when she heard and came to Cassie’s aid immediately…after Maya left. She watched as Maya waved in annoyance and walked off to join Vanessa and Elektra and only then did Amy come in to support her cellmate.

“Did she claim you?! Your jumpsuit’s open, did she touch you? Was there tongue?” She spammed too many question with a brewing jealousy that Cassie could have been chosen first. 

Cassie was collapsed on the floor, covering her pussy just in case Maya came back. She looked up at Amy and wrapped her up in another hug, believing Amy's questions to be out of concern.

"I... I don't know. She touched it and then walked away... She didn't kiss me or anything, so... No. No tongue."

“I kinda meant did she use tongue down there but ok. How long did she touch you?” Amy focused on entirely the wrong details there. Her callousness in this situation probably would have made her great at getting a bitch of her own, but that (fortunately) wasn’t her interest. 

Being crushed by yet another of Cassie’s hugs, she sighed. It did feel kind of nice when their exposed chests touched in the moment of embrace though.

Cassie continued to hold her tight for a moment before letting go. She stared into Amy's eyes, the vulnerable girl desperate for help. "Do you mind if I stay with you at all times? Just in case something like that happens again?" 

Amy wasn’t too into the idea and so said the first thing she felt would dissuade Cassie. “So that we can get claimed together?” 

The fear on Cassie's face grew, realising she wasn't safe anywhere. The lonely, scared, and hungry girl realised there was nothing to keep her here. Her friend clearly didn't think staying with her was smart, and her food was on the floor.

So she got up, covered her face, and ran out of the cafeteria. She stayed outside as long as she could until breakfast was finally over. The wait had given her an…interesting…view of the inner-workings of the prison economy. She’d wanted to just lay down, cry, and pretend she was in a far less terrifying place, which she did, but the inmates ignored her presence and went about business as usual. As she lay on the dirty ground, in between sobs she watched Trish Walker sell Karen Page something called Extremis for a few cigarettes. She’d never watched a drug deal go down before. It was really awkward being present to watch a crime but being entirely ignored as if she didn’t exist at all. 

At some point the inmates began exiting the cafeteria and walking past her. Bound for the showers. Cassie watched the prisoners walking by, whining as her time in mourning was interrupted. But she didn't get up yet. She just watched and waited to join the back of the line.

That’s when she was kicked in the stomach by Maya’s prosthetic leg, which was considerably painful given that it was made of metal. She couldn’t wait to see her new toy in the showers. 

Cassie let out a pitiful grunt of pain, clutching her empty stomach as she doubled over. She looked up at her, tears forming in her eyes as her brattier side reared its head.

"I didn't do anything to you! Stop being so horrible!!!"

Maya understood the tone of what was being said and didn’t feel a thing. She was tired of waiting. <Get up> She signed quickly while giving Cassie another kick. 

Cassie groaned again, tears spilling out onto the floor as she whimpered. She still didn't understand the words, but figured out the second kick meant Maya wasn't happy. She got up, unknowingly appeasing the woman who was about to claim her. She just wanted to avoid another kick.

Maya threw her arm around Cassie and walked beside her, thinking of all the fun she’d have with her. It seemed violence really always did speak louder than words, or, in her case, sign language. They arrived at the showers and it went exactly as one might expect.

Maya stepped in front of Cassie once again and then started stripping herself naked, revealing her fit body. All around them the other inmates did the same, but Cassie’s eyes were currently locked on Maya. She ran her hands along her curvy hips, showing off her body for Cassie, and then squeezed her own tits. It was like the world’s weirdest self-advertisement that Cassie was forced to watch in horror. 

<Your turn> Maya mouthed.

Cassie read Maya's lips, the two words being simple enough, and shook her head in terror.

Maya threw her head back in a silent groan, crossing her arms. She looked surprisingly tough considering she was fully naked. Maybe it was because of the prison tattoos. <Now> She mouthed and pointed to the ground. She was losing patience. 

Cassie was shaking as Maya gave her the order, knowing she should probably obey before she got attacked. She reluctantly unzipped her jumpsuit, letting it fall to the floor and exposing her perky boobs and tiny butt. "T-there..."

Maya mouthed “wow” as she stared at Cassie’s bare body with predatory eyes. She took a pause to really look at the hero’s front over slowly and then she roughly turned her around, spanked her rear, and then gazed at her backside. She was so tiny and cute like a little Barbie doll. A very sexy doll. Ok not her best mental analogy but the point stood. She spun her around again and then signed: <So you’re the princess of the itty bitty titty council?>

Which Elektra then said aloud as she passed by, chuckling to herself. 

<She’s cute> Elektra signed to Maya and then the two held a brief conversation in sign as they both assessed Cassie over like she was a mannequin in a display window. 

Cassie felt like a Barbie doll as she was stared at like an object, whimpering and whining as she tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. She gasped and glared at Maya as Elektra explained what she said (she'd always been sensitive about that), and was about to speak up when she saw them begin the conversation. It felt embarrassing to be talked about when you didn't understand a word.

Elektra nodded yes to something. <How much will you turn her out for?>

Maya shrugged and asked back: <How much do you think she’s worth?> 

Elektra considered it and then began roughly feeling up Cassie, specifically her more intimate regions, before turning back to Maya and holding up two fingers. Cassie was worth two cigarettes. 

<That’s it?> Maya asked, visibly annoyed. 

Cassie's trembling grew more intense as Elektra stepped closer… "Hey!" ...yelping as she was felt up for the third time since arriving in prison. This really didn't bode well for her future.

Elektra held Cassie’s jaw and then began kneading her breasts. “What’s your name?”

Cassie whined as her jaw was grabbed, squirming hard at the groping. "C-Cassie... Cassie Lang..."

“Well Cassie Lang, you’re going to be a very good girl for Maya or she’ll kill you…” Elektra threatened before letting her go, relaying the name in sign, and waving goodbye to Maya. Maya immediately bid Cassie to follow her. 

Cassie felt numb as she heard this, her worst fears about prison seeming closer than ever to coming true. "Wait..." But Elektra was already gone, leaving Cassie to obediently follow her 'new friend.'

Maya ushered Cassie along through the crowded steamy room of bare prisoners. The room conflictingly reeked of sweat from hours in the mines and sickeningly sanitary soap which was unpleasantly reminiscent of a hospital. Every step they took resulted in them bumping against someone’s wet naked body. Cassie was fairly sure she saw Maya elbow someone in the boob to get them out of the way but it was hard to tell. 

She was more than used to this, judging by the wide smile on her face she was enjoying it. Cassie had gone from never seeing someone naked besides herself to seeing essentially the entire prison population. She kept her eyes low to the ground, not wanting to be exposed to the naked bodies, as well as hoping they weren't staring at hers.

Maya pulled Cassie onwards, causing her to slip along the soapy wet tiles, until they finally reached an available spot. Unfortunately, there was only one shower head there so they would be sharing. She beamed at Cassie as she pulled her orange hair tie out, moving it around her wrist, and then grabbing a small white bar of soap off the shelf. Now face to face with Maya, Cassie whimpered as she avoided eye contact, shivering slightly from fear and the cold. Sharing the hot water wasn't working out too well. Maya handed Cassie the bar of soap, expecting her to wash her. Of course, that was unclear because the oblivious Cassie nervously thanked her before beginning to use it on herself. She knew better than to assume Maya was being nice, but figured it might be some sort of harmless mind game.

Maya paused, trying to figure out what Cassie was doing. Once Cassie began washing herself she tried to rip the bar of soap out of her hands to take it back so she could mime what to do, but unfortunately the bar slipped out of both of their hands and went tumbling to the floor. Maya looked down at it and then at Cassie, teeth gritted.

Cassie had yelped as Maya lunged at her, watching the soap slide across the room, then turning back to her shower buddy. The clear anger told Cassie everything she needed to know, and she quickly found herself bending over to pick up the soap.

Maya smirked to herself and stepped behind Cassie, gripping her wet butt and leaning over her. She would have made a quip if she could. Maya could neither hear a word Cassie said or see her lips (since Cassie was currently facing the floor), not that it mattered. No amount of pleading would have convinced her to have mercy. In her mind she was a far better alternative than the other people who could claim her. She raised her hand up high and slapped Cassie’s rear incredibly hard and then turned her around and shoved her against the wall. 

Cassie screamed as she was spanked, crying as she was shoved against the wall. "Nooooo!!! Amy?! Amy?!" She knew Amy probably wouldn't help, or even hear her, but she was desperate and didn't know what else to do.

Maya wanted to tell her to quit being so pathetic. Her panicked motions were making this difficult in the slippery room. How did she relay that? By kneeing her in the thigh and hitting her again. The scene caught the attention of the surrounding women who all watched with glee at the newest girl being abused. 

Cassie squeaked at the sudden pain in her thigh, turning to the other ladies and looking at them with pleading eyes. "Help me! Help!!!"

Maya suddenly rammed her entire fist up Cassie’s butt only to pull it out and do it again. Her arse was still sore from the search during intake, and the fisting only made things so much worse. The watching women laughed at Cassie’s terror. 

Cassie screamed as the fist entered her, then began to sob as it happened again. Weaver's fingers last night had been so painful in her previously virgin anus, but this was excruciating!

"Ow! Ow, pleeeeaaaase stop! I didn't do anything!" Her pleas fell on Maya's deaf ears, as well as the uncaring ones from their audience.

Maya unclenched her fist and began using her fingers to explore Cassie’s extremely aching butt. Then she pulled out and did it again…and again…and again. The sadistic woman revelled in watching how Cassie twitched and squirmed at her touch. 

Cassie continued to cry and scream, barely able to comprehend how much pain she was in. This wasn't something she'd be able to sleep on and recover from easily, especially if Maya made this a regular thing.

Maya finally stopped and pulled her hand out, raising it in the air and holding up three fingers and then pointing at Cassie. This was the price she’d be charging (yes she raised the price from two to three) to anyone who wanted a piece of the new fish. Immediately a few women emerged from the assembled crowd looking to join in. 

Cassie didn't understand what was going on. She just continued to whimper and sob, pain still pulsing throughout her recently stuffed butt. She prayed that this wouldn't be the first taste of the rest of her life. It wouldn’t. 

From the crowd emerged Vanessa Fisk, accompanied by her servant Giulietta Nefaria aka Madame Masque, and Elektra Natchios. They would pay Maya for the fun in the yard later, except Vanessa who could have whatever she wanted from her gang. Just like that Maya shoved Cassie on her back, under the warm stream of water for the first time, and then the four of them gathered around her. There was no escaping this.

Cassie went quiet for a moment as she was shoved onto her back, then resumed crying as she looked around and realised they'd all be joining in. Masque stood beside Vanessa, waiting for orders. Her trademark golden mask had been kept as a trophy by Weaver, who broke her in on her first day.

Vanessa looked down at the pathetic girl beneath and then snapped her fingers. With her cue everyone took their positions. First came Vanessa who plopped down on Cassie’s face and began riding her. Then Maya pulled Cassie’s legs wide and shoved two fingers up her butt. Elektra kicked Cassie in the crotch and then laid stomach down on the floor and nuzzled her face against her pussy. 

Giulietta crouched down, grabbing ahold of both Cassie's tits, and twisted as hard as she could. There wasn't much there, but she enjoyed knowing how much pain she must be in. Cassie didn't even have a chance to scream as Vanessa's intimate areas smashed against her face, the girl coughing and gagging as she came face to face with her first pussy. Muffled screams erupted as her poor butthole was penetrated once again, followed by a soft grunt of pain at the kick to her crotch. A kick that caused her to go limp for a moment, just in time to moan as the face pressed against her.

“Mmm I’ve missed clean shaven pussy…” Elektra moaned with her lips pressed against Cassie’s pussy before getting straight to eating her out. In a prison like The Raft where razors were considered a major security risk, no one stayed bare down there for long. It made fresh fish even more sought after. 

Maya squatted and continued penetrating Cassie’s butthole. Wanting a bit more stimulation, Maya raised her own hand to her mouth and began sucking off her fingers with desperate gusto. Both her hands quickly were getting tired at this point but she persisted. She was way too into this to care about her own tiredness. Her fingers clawed away up Cassie and just kept going.

“Start licking” Vanessa calmly ordered as she swayed her hips back and forth, grinding her dark-chestnut forested pussy against Cassie’s face. It wasn’t so much that Cassie was being forced to eat her out as she was choked by a thick bush of pubic hair that itched the inside of her mouth. 

Cassie could barely hear anything, overwhelmed by the pain in her rear and tits, as well as her low air supply as she continually choked on Vanessa's pubes. There was a pleasure to what Elektra was doing even if she didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to cum though. She still held out hope she'd be reunited with her boyfriend someday, and that he would be the one to take her virginity. She then started to cry as she received her orders, knowing better than to disobey as she started to lick Vanessa's pussy. It tasted... unique. Not pleasant. She was straight through and through.

Vanessa softly moaned as she mashed her pussy up and down against Cassie’s flicking tongue. The glee she took in tormenting someone so new sent shockwaves through her system that were unlike anything she experienced with Giulietta. The sound of Cassie sobbing and gagging turned her on even more. 

Elektra pushed her face harder against Cassie’s crotch as she worked away with her tongue far more vigorously than Cassie did. She briefly lifted her head to tease: “She’s all wet”

Before returning to her pleasant smelling (at least more so than the long-time inmates) womanhood. Her tongue ran passionately between Cassie’s rims. A small pleasure in the cluttered sexual torment. But just as Cassie noticed how nice it felt she was fisted again by Maya. 

Cassie tensed up as the fist re-entered her still somehow tight hole, bucking her hips up and staying frozen in that position as she scream-cried into Vanessa's pussy. She bucked so hard that she threw Elektra off and Giulietta off of her, but not Vanessa, even if her tongue stopped working its magic. Perhaps the vibrations of her horrific moans sufficed.

Vanessa stood up and then the group abruptly began to change positions. Cassie was put on her stomach so that her sex rested on Elektra’s mouth, Vanessa sat against the wall and shoved Cassie’s face into her pussy, Maya stood up and then suddenly kicked her foot up Cassie’s butt. 

Cassie sighed with relief as she had a moment of freedom, but this was immediately ruined as she was womanhandled and placed on her stomach. Not even Elektra's tongue could help her relax as she began licking Vanessa's pussy once more, screaming simultaneously as her butt was violated by the foot. Giulietta held her hand out, asking Vanessa with her eyes if she could mark Cassie's body with the shiv her mistress kept in her hair.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and looked at Giulietta with clear annoyance. “Do it next time. Don’t interrupt me again” She warned. 

Giulietta nodded with a blush before beginning to spank Cassie's pale butt, leaving handprints after just a couple smacks.

”Tell me, how do I taste?” Vanessa asked Cassie. Cassie hadn’t replied yet when her body shook ferociously at the feeling of Elektra lapping away at her clit. 

Maya looked down at the sight of her foot up Cassie’s butt and, while it was a bit weird since she’d never done it before, it was hot. She watched herself nudge her dirty toes between Cassie’s cheeks while she masturbated herself using the same hand that had been inside Cassie not a minute prior.

The spanking only added to Cassie's misery, though the brief moment of pleasure as she got closer to orgasm. That was her main concern though, as she looked up at Vanessa and neglected to respond to the question asked. "Please... Not here..."

“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked irritably while stretching her legs wide for the edging Cassie. Elektra was actually really skilled with her tongue. Cassie wouldn’t be able to last much longer like this. 

Cassie felt a new tear roll down her cheek as she looked at Vanessa with pleading eyes. "I have a boyfriend... I wanted him to... be..." She didn't finish her sentence, a mix between a moan and a scream erupting from her as a result of the pain and pleasure she felt.

Vanessa let out a dry cackle at Cassie. “She’s a virgin. Not for long though. Now lick!” She smirked. Elektra’s tongue rolled upwards and then messily stroked down and swirled about. Any moment now…Cassie resumed licking, but only for a moment. She felt waves of pleasure shoot through her as she relieved her first orgasm at the hands of another. She moaned some more into Vanessa's pussy, trying desperately to enjoy this moment despite feeling like a dirty little cheater.

“She’s not a virgin anymore,” Elektra spoke from underneath Cassie. Once the orgasm ended, Cassie started to softly cry into Vanessa's vagina, neglecting to lick as she just stewed in her pain and guilt. How far she'd fallen in less than 24 hours.

Showertime concluded and they were taken into the mines. Amy was currently being handed a pickaxe after being shackled alongside Rogue. The chains were tight, cutting against their skin in the damp tunnels of the cavern. “Amy Bendix” Amy introduced herself as she took a weak swing at the stone wall. 

Rogue sighed. She had a talker. "No talkin’." She said without looking at her, just focusing on swinging the axe.

Amy drove her pick into the rocks just a little harder this time, yielding disappointing results. 

“So not a talker. Got it. It sure was nice of the guards to let you keep up the excessive makeup you have on” Amy said snidely. 

Rogue rolled her eyes at Amy's pitiful attempts at mining, using her axe to chip away at the rock with precise skill. That's when her face twisted into a frown pout, turning to Amy with a scowl. And here she'd thought the girl was gonna be the overly sweet type. "What'd I say about talking?"

“Yeah but are you a guard? You can’t really tell me what to do” Amy fired back. 

Rogue gripped the pickaxe tight in her gloved hands, legitimately wanting to use it on this girl.

"Do you want me to yank your jumpsuit down and shove this where the sun don't shine?"

Amy bit her lip and looked at Rogue promiscuously. “I mean…”

Rogue blushed as she realised what was going on, and for a minute she felt very flattered. It had been a long since she'd had an intimate relationship... then she remembered why. "Well clearly you don't know about ma’ powers then." She returned to scowling, thinking about how unlucky she was to have her collar not keep her frustrating power at bay. 

“Well what are your powers?” Amy asked as she tried again. The results were worse than last time. 

Rogue slammed the pickaxe into the ground, cracking her knuckles as she stepped towards Amy. "If I touch anyone, they end up in a coma or worse. You wanna see it up close?"

“Really? That’s a pretty sucky power. Your collar doesn’t I don’t know do something about that?” Amy replied unafraid. Minus the mutation, this wasn’t her first time facing someone so terrifying. 

Rogue crossed her arms, more upset than angry at this point. "No, it doesn't. Now shut up, do your job, and leave me alone. If it's sex you're looking for, get claimed by Emma Frost and join her stupid sex cult."

There might as well have been a little lightbulb that appeared over Amy’s head as she perked up. Everything about her seemed to suddenly come alive. “Sex cult?” She asked enthusiastically. 

Rogue whined as she imagined being able to get excited about sex again. "Yes, now SHUT UP!" She removed one of her gloves, holding a pale hand up to Amy's face in an effort to scare her.

Amy flinched, taking a step back which pulled the chains as far as they could go. “Alright, fine. My lips are locked.” She mimed throwing away the key. 

Rogue huffed, slipped her glove back on, then returned to work, all this talk about sex getting her really horny.

Work concluded many long hours later and so Amy went to the yard to look further into the sex-cult Rogue told her about. Wandering around in the only spot in the prison to breath in the fresh air, she asked around for Emma Frost. The answers had been unhelpful but the search outright stopped when she ran into Cassie. It hadn’t even been a day since they last spoke but Cassie looked drastically different. 

She was a shell of her former self, looking incredibly fragile as she sat on the ground by the fence.The sight of Amy sparked something in her, and she quickly waved her over.

Amy trudged over, not really wanting to be deterred from her quest for Emma Frost. “What the fuck happened to you?” She asked in surprise as she noticed just how dishevelled Cassie looked.  

Cassie rubbed the back of her neck shyly. "M-Maya Lopez claimed me, and her friends did a bunch of stuff to me. They said..." She sniffled. "They said I have to live with Maya from now on, so I guess we won't be roommates anymore..."

“That was fast. What’d they do to you exactly because, no offence, you look like shit” Amy questioned, sitting close beside her. 

Cassie whimpered at her words, but placed her head on Amy's shoulder. It felt kinda nice. "M-maya shoved her fist up my butt, over and over again... Vanessa made her lick her vagina and it was so hairy. Like... like a guy's (something she learned from movies). And the one with the accent... s- stole my virginity..."

“Three people?! How was it? Were they rough? I bet they were rough” Amy asked enviously. She was a little disappointed Cassie was taken first.

Cassie gasped as she realised what Amy was doing, lifting her head off her shoulder and looking at her in bratty horror. "Are you using me to get off?!"

“What? No! I would never” Amy protested poorly. She was 100% using her trauma to get off. 

Cassie stared at her roommate, lip quivering from the betrayal. "Be honest. Do you actually care about me? Like at all? Because I thought we were maybe becoming friends." 

“Yes of course I care. We’re friends, I’m just…ok look, it’s really hard for me to not be turned on by this place. Maybe if you would try and see my perspective it wouldn’t be so bad” Amy defended without any remorse in her tone. 

Cassie was in disbelief. She could tell Amy wasn't the most sympathetic person in the world, but this? Being turned on by her trauma? She wanted to yell. To scream. To chew her out for this horrible thing... but then she'd be truly alone. Not even a remorseless friend to comfort her.

"I'm... sorry. I guess I can see how it'd be hot from your perspective..."

“Thank you. If it’s any help, I would have gladly gone through whatever happened to you in the showers instead” Amy tried to help

Cassie perked up. If Amy actually wanted this stuff to happen to her… "M-maybe we could talk to Vanessa? Maybe they can give you to Maya instead..."

“I don’t think it works like that. They’d probably just keep you and take me as well” Amy wasn’t against the idea, but she was interested in Emma now

Cassie decided not to press it, realising it really wouldn't get her anywhere. "So I'm just supposed to be their slave for however long I'm here?"

“Yeah pretty much” Amy nodded. 

Cassie felt very conflicted about Amy's blunt way of speaking. On the one hand, she knew being realistic was probably important here, but she didn't want to be. "Anything else you wanna talk about? I kinda need to get my mind off things."

“Well what’d you think of work? My arms are seriously hurting right now” Amy asked while tending to her sore limbs. Her body was aching from hard labour. She wondered if it was the same for someone experienced like Rogue. 

Cassie sighed, rubbing her sore arms. "Just when I thought prison life couldn't get any worse, they found a way. I can't believe we have to do that every day. When is there time for fun?"

“Pretty sure those two are having fun” Amy pointed at Natasha Romanoff ripping open Pepper Potts’ jumpsuit a little across the yard.

Cassie gasped, hurrying to her feet… "That stuff happens out here too?!"...and began limping to an even more secluded spot.

Amy struggled to determine whether or not she should follow her. Strangely, she eventually decided that she should, but then she was stopped by five identical women, all platinum blonde with the fairest of skin. Their piercing blue eyes seemed distant, almost ethereally disconnected. 

"You're new." The women said in unison. They wouldn't feel out of place in a horror movie. "How's your first day in prison?" 

“Fine I guess. Do we have a problem?” Amy sounded pretty confident for a new arrival without a single weapon being grouped up on by five inmates. To be entirely fair to her though, her opponents didn’t look any more intimidating than she did. 

The ladies were silent for a moment, then they spoke. "That depends. Are you gonna unzip your jumpsuit, or do we have to make you?"

Amy had to stop herself from smiling. It was finally happening! But wait no she had someone specific in-mind. “Sorry but I’ve already been claimed…by Emma Frost .” Amy didn’t really count that as lying. She was just preactivly being loyal to someone she hadn’t met yet. Not weird at all. 

The Cuckoos smirked and chuckled to themselves, only briefly getting distracted by the sound of Pepper's yelps as Natasha slammed her fingers inside her pussy.  "We would know if you were claimed by Emma Frost. We work for her."

Amy let out an awkward chuckle as she realised her exaggeration maybe wasn't the most well-thought out. “Oh. Y-Yeah you got me there…so you’re part of her sex cult?”

They nodded, before simply saying: "Undo your jumpsuit."

“Make me!” Amy brattily challenged as Pepper let out a groan in the background. 

The Cuckoos stood silent once again, thinking over their response. "You're a bratty one. If you want to join the cult of our great mistress, you will be an obedient girl. Otherwise, one of the lesser gangs would be happy to claim you."

Amy sighed in unison with Natasha, who had undressed Pepper and currently had her on her lap so she could punish her for some transgression. “Alright. Fine” Amy pouted, beginning to undo her jumpsuit by herself. 

The Cuckoos smiled as they watched her do this, Pepper's yelps as she was spanked providing a great soundtrack. "Mmm. Curvy. Now do some jumping jacks."

Amy didn’t hesitate to do as told. Performing in nothing but her underwear, her round nipples stood like two sharp pink needles as her breasts shook with each enthusiastic jump. Down and back up again she went, not needing to pause. She felt the fresh oceanic air against her naked body which cooled her sweat dewed skin. Believe it or not, exercising in so little was a fairly common sight in the yard. 

The Cuckoos watched intently, not smiling despite very much enjoying the sight of Amy's bouncing breasts. She was gonna be fun. 

Amy smiled coyly, turned around, bent over with a shimmy of her butt, and then slowly lowered her underwear. She didn’t do it out of modesty, but to better excite the ominous quadruplets. After an appropriate pause to build things up, she turned around and massaged her left tit in one hand while the other caressed along her thigh. 

The Cuckoos didn't look as visibly aroused as Officer Renee had with the girl, but they were definitely enjoying the show. "Finger yourself. Cum in front of everyone."

Amy kicked her panties aside, leaving them stranded in the middle of the vast concrete yard, and spread her legs out. Her petite frame shuddered as her right hand glided along her dewy skin and then met her sex with the press of two fingers. She pushed her first finger and found that she was already dripping wet. Kneading her breast just a little bit harder, she began fingering herself with euphoric moans that quickly grew louder than the sound of Pepper’s whines as she was spanked. 

Amy couldn’t decide what turned her on the most; being humiliated by tough prisoners, the threat of pain at the hands of the Cuckoos, or the fact that this was all happening in front of the entire yard. She was the Cuckoos’ bitch and she knew it. 

The Cuckoos started to smile at the show. Rogue watched from afar, doing a bit of her own self-exploration as she imagined the girl doing that to her. Pepper's whines faded out as Natasha seemingly gave her a break. Seemingly.

Amy turned to see her motivating surroundings as her finger fiercely worked away inside her wet pussy, rubbing in quick, messy circular motions. Her breaths grew heavier, her legs weaker. The Cuckoos were quickly growing tired, and it was becoming clear in the way they stood. They wanted her to hurry this up.

 She felt herself nearing closer and closer to climaxing, slipping towards it with each messy stroke of her finger. Her head was getting dizzy with complete euphoria before suddenly, like a flash of lightning, an orgasm unlike any other rocked her body whole. Her wet pussy dripped juices along her cum-soaked fingers and onto the hot concrete ground. 

The Cuckoos all smiled the same wide smile, moaning softly themselves as Amy came. "Now lick it up..."

Amy looked at them with some small apprehension before getting on her knees and beginning to lick the ground where she’d came on. She mostly only could taste dirt. 

They noticed the apprehension, smiling wider at the rare disinterest from the otherwise horny girl. They laughed as she actually did it, then began walking away. "We'll be in touch."

Chapter Text

Cassie Lang had tried her best to avoid going to her new cell, prolonging things as long as possible, but as lights out drew near she was left with no other choice but to face who she’d been moved in with. Taking small strides due to her aching butt, she kept her head down on the way there but it wasn’t easy to block out the completely alien happenings around her. ‘Alien’ being quite literal, since she was somehow in a prison with actual aliens. 

Stopping outside her new cell, she slowly nudged the unlocked door open and stepped inside where Maya Lopez was already waiting for her with a smirk on her face. Cassie swallowed nervously as she stared at the woman before her, glancing down at her feet before rubbing her still sore butt. "S-so, uh... this is my new home?" For the indefinite, possibly permanent future…

Maya, sat with her legs spread wide and jumpsuit pulled down just below her breasts, nodded a silent yes. She’d spent her entire shift in the mines dreaming about this moment and all the moments after, given they’d probably be with each other for the rest of their lives. Or at least until Maya got bored of her and sold her to someone else. 

Cassie whimpered and rubbed her arm shyly. "Can you go easy on me? I'm still recovering from earlier? And can I keep my jumpsuit on? Please?" If Maya could be reasoned with, Cassie could maybe accept her new role and try to make the best of it, but if not…

Maya stared at Cassie blankly for a ridiculously long beat, long enough that it was unclear if she caught that Cassie even asked a question. Just as Cassie started to consider murmering the questions again, Maya nodded yes. She was a sadistic assassin who a few hours ago ganged up on a poor defenseless woman, not a complete monster. At least that was the logic in her mind. 

Cassie stood there awkwardly as she waited for a response, then finally let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding."Oh thank you!!! Thank you! M-maybe this won't be so bad after all! We... we can be friends. And... s-sorry. Can you read lips? Even if you can, I'm rambling too fast. Sorry."

Cassie was right, Maya did find it difficult to follow exactly what her new slave was saying with how fast the girl spoke. But that didn’t matter because she didn’t care what she was saying anyway. She cared about a very different pair of lips down below. Maya snapped her fingers and pointed to the spot on the ground between her legs. 

Cassie whimpered, but got on her knees in front of her. She'd asked Maya to go easy on her. She didn't exactly mention not making her do anything. "A-am I using my tongue again?"

Maya fully undid her jumpsuit and then gave her a look that epitomised ‘what do you think?’

Cassie's lip quivered as she choked out a whiny sob, then reluctantly nuzzled her face in the woman's crotch and began licking. She knew better than to get on her bad side now.

Maya rested her head back against the wall and sunk into the feeling of Cassie's inexperienced tongue. Cassie did the bare minimum, licking quickly and trying to avoid one spot for too long. At one point she looked up at Maya, hoping to make eye contact and see if she was doing okay. Maya looked back down at her dissaprovingly. She hadn’t had much experience with this sort of thing, but she’d been with enough women behind bars (some willing, others less so) to know she found her performance pretty lacking. Cassie whimpered at the look, licking even faster in the hopes that that would help. She didn't like Maya, but she definitely wanted to keep her happy. Cassie got verification when Maya pet her hair to indicate that she was doing better.

Cassie moaned softly, then blushed. She'd momentarily gotten lost in the memory of how her boyfriend used to pet her hair like that. She continued the rapid licks, mentally crossing her fingers that Maya would get off soon. Her wish was granted, sort of, as Maya got closer and closer until, with a powerful shudder, she came on Cassie’s face. Cassie grunted in disgust as her face was splattered, looking away and whimpering as she tried to find something to clean her face with. Maya zipped up her jumpsuit and then, in her own sort of semblance of pity, chose to hand Cassie a blanket off the bottom bunk. It was one she’d masturbated on pretty much nightly in the hot sweaty solitude of her cell and now it would be Cassie’s blanket. It was a gift. Kind of. Not at all. 

Cassie grabbed the blanket, quickly wiping away her face and giving a quiet thank you that Maya wouldn't be able to hear even if it was a shout. She then threw the blanket away, disgusted by how odd it felt. "I think something's wrong with that blanket..."

Maya shrugged like she didn’t know what could possibly be wrong with it. <That’s the only blanket you’ll get> she signed. 

Cassie watched her sign, looking up at her in confusion. "I'm sorry... I don't understand what you're saying."

Maya pointed at the blanket and then back at Cassie. 

Cassie blushed, squirming a little bit at the thought of using that for her blanket. "O-okay. Yeah, um... I'll just have the guards wash it first." Surely they washed the pillows and blankets on a semi-regular basis.

Maya gave her an annoyed look but didn’t push the topic any farther. Cassie could use it or not use it, she didn’t care as long as it was clear there wouldn’t be a replacement. She figured it was probably sort of clean anyways. It was washed at least two months ago, which was apparently fine to her. 

Cassie stared at Maya for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "Wanna play a game?" It was the only thing Cassie knew to do that might ease the tension. They certainly couldn't have an in-depth conversation.

Maya enthusiastically nodded yes. Life in her small cell was honestly really boring. Usually if she wasn’t working as Vanessa Fisk’s enforcer, she was in the gym or just laying in her cell waiting for the next day to come. A game seemed like a nice change of pace. 

Cassie perked up slightly, actually feeling hopeful for once. It seemed like maybe the woman wasn't as bad as she thought. "Okay! Um... A-any chance the guards give out board games?" She took a look around the tiny cell, then back at Maya. "Hide and Seek might not be an option..."

Maya expressed her enjoyment of Cassie's quip but nodded no. She didn’t exactly have much of a reason to steal a board game from the rec room when she was living alone.

Cassie smiled softly as Maya enjoyed her joke. Okay... maybe she could do this. Maybe Maya could be reasoned with. "Well, um... How about Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Maya answered by already laying one palm flat and balling her fist. She was clearly into the idea.

Cassie let out a little squeal of excitement, covering her mouth so Maya couldn't tell she was making a noise. She then matched Maya's pose, slamming her fist into her palm… “Rock, paper, scissors." ...until she picked rock. Maya looked up in confusion at why Cassie had covered her mouth but went along with it. With a smirk she chose paper.

Cassie gave her a smile. "Aww, looks like you beat me. Um... Wanna try again?"

Maya went again, going for rock this time, while Cassie chose scissors, huffing softly as she lost. She could get a little competitive, but Maya's enthusiasm for the game was keeping her grounded. "This is fun, right? Just hanging out."

Maya nodded in agreement. She would have added “It’s fun as long as I win” if she could. Two for two so far, she went for rock again.

Cassie chose scissors again, immediately blushing and burying her face in her hands. She groaned into her hands, then looked up at Maya. "You were supposed to pick..." She then remembered who she was messing with, and smiled nervously. "Great job!"

Maya’s wicked smile grew wider at her third victory. She agreed, she had done a great job if she did say so herself. Feeling pretty confident, she went for scissors next. 

Cassie went for scissors also, and smiled. It wasn't a win, but it felt much better than losing. Maya looked frustrated at the tie but found this exact moment amusing. Giving Cassie a knowing grin, she made scissors of both her hands and brought them together, moving her fingers in subtle writhing motions and miming an orgasmic facial expression.

Cassie was... confused to say the least, staring at Maya like she was crazy. What was she doing? What were those motions? Still, she couldn't get her angry, so she smiled. "Yeah! That's funny!"

Maya nodded in agreement, she found herself to be very funny. Thinking Cassie understood the joke, she returned to the game with an air of self-satisfaction. This time around she chose paper. Cassie sighed internally as Maya began playing the game again. She was quickly growing tired of it, but wanted to keep Maya happy. She chose scissors again, managing a little smile as she won.

Maya’s cocky expression immediately dropped and she stared Cassie down with a murderous look in her eyes. The gaze made Cassie's face fall and she let out a whimper as her lip quivered. Any joy Cassie had felt at the win had vanished. "I'm sorry! This isn't a game I can lose on purpose. It's just chance mostly..."

Maya observed, not easing her tense expression a little, how her slave panicked. It was impossible to tell whether she was amused or planned to attack. Impossible that is until she waved her hand, non-verbally expressing that she didn’t care. 

Cassie sighed with relief, letting out a little nervous giggle. "Cool... Um. Wanna play another game?" She had no idea what other games they could play.

Maya nodded. Unable to explain what she had in mind, she pulled out a book and set it between them. Flipping through to the thirteenth page she slid her finger across the paper until it pointed to the word “you” and then across her finger went to the word “wash” and down to “me.” It wasn’t really a game, even she was willing to admit that. But she had neglected to actually wash herself in the showers with all the excitement and they’d gotten off mine duty not long ago so now seemed as good a time as any. 

Cassie watched with an unusual amount of excitement as Maya got out the book. What new fun things were her and her kinda/sorta new friend going to- "Oh, um... Wash? Like... How would I... wash you?"

Maya, not wanting to explain the obvious, simply tugged the front of Cassie’s zipper open and gestured for her to go to the sink. Cassie blushed as her jumpsuit was unzipped, revealing her boobs. She happily hurried over to the sink, hoping to hide her exposed parts from view.

Maya tapped the cover of the book to get Cassie to turn around so she could see her mime taking off the jumpsuit and running it under the stream of water from the sink. She really was starting to feel like she had to explain everything. 

Cassie frowned sadly as she removed her jumpsuit, now stuck in her underwear as she ran it under the water. Still, she was at least thankful to not be naked. Maya found the sight of Cassie down to so little with her back turned, shimmying her “Property of The Raft” marked butt, very enjoyable. Without any semblance of shame Maya once more undressed as well, although she opted to remove everything , exposing her sweat-glistened body in full. 

Cassie finished with the jumpsuit, shutting off the water before turning and immediately feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the naked Maya. "Am I washing... everything?"

Maya eagerly nodded yes, tossing her prison-panties on to the bed and stretching her legs out.

Cassie looked away as she walked over to her cellmate… "Where do I start?" ...though this meant her lips weren't very visible as she spoke.

Maya sat blankly, awaiting Cassie to begin without knowing she’d even said anything. <Are you going to start?> She signed after a pause.

Cassie noticed the hand movements, looking down and trying desperately to keep her eyes locked on Maya's, not wandering to anything more intimate. "Sorry, what? Where do you want me to start?"

Maya retrieved her underwear, stood up, then pointed to her breasts. Cassie whined, but got on her knees and began to do as told. She continued to look away, and rubbed at them rather roughly, just wanting to get this over with.

Maya actually enjoyed the rough approach Cassie took to cleaning her tits. But that didn’t stop her from turning her underwear inside-out and shoving them into the heroine’s mouth. While the pair were thankfully new (which was lucky for Cassie considering changes of clothes were only provided twice a week), the fact that Maya had been wearing them since after the shower, through her shift in the mine, during her semi-intense workout in the prison gym, and then while she boredly masturbated to pass the time while waiting for Cassie to show up at her cell, made that fact obsolete. 

Cassie's eyes shot open as the disgusting panties were shoved in her mouth, immediately retching and gagging at the taste. She looked up at Maya with sad eyes, having thought they were getting along. What had she done to deserve such a distasteful punishment.

Maya looked back at her and gave a casual shrug. If Cassie could understand what she was saying she would have said “I want you to clean those too” but she didn’t even know how she would begin to try and mime that. Raising a finger she poked the panties protruding from Cassie’s mouth.  The poke pushed the panties against the back of Cassie’s throat, causing her to gag once again while she continued to wash Maya's boobs. She would then begin to move the wet jumpsuit down to her mistress' stomach, hoping this would speed up the process.

Maya nodded in approval, figuring that Cassie was only speedily limiting the number of non-fun places to wash. The quicker she washed the basic places the quicker she’d have to start on the places she’d hate . Maya was right because Cassie made record time of washing Maya's stomach and arms, stopping at her neck before moving to the woman's legs. Before long, she'd done everything except her face, feet, and that middle part she hated so much.

Maya pointed at her own face, wanting that sorted before Cassie used the same jumpsuit to wash her lower regions. It was basic hygiene after all. 

Cassie nodded, reaching up and washing the girl's face. She would let out a little muffled cough as the taste of the dirty underwear got too bad, then whined softly.

<Do they taste bad?> Maya taunted, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. It really made taunting people less fun if they didn’t know she had even done it.

Cassie looked confused, but decided to just ignore it. She wiped away a small tear that had formed, then continued rubbing away at Maya's face. But in a sudden moment of bratty frustration, she scraped the jumpsuit extra hard against the woman's ear. She hoped her mistress would think it was a painful accident. But Maya didn’t in fact think it was an accident. Giving the girl a death stare, she intended to convey that getting aggressive again would be met with much more than just a look. She understood why Cassie might be frustrated, but it wasn’t her problem. If she couldn’t do her tasks well she would have to painfully teach her how. 

Cassie gasped at the sight of the glaring Maya, blushing and lowering her head as she obediently scrubbed at the rest of Maya's body. She still had a hard time considering this woman wasn't all bad. Bad, but not all. “I’m sorry…” she murmured through her gag. 

Maya slowly nodded and smiled, accepting what maybe was an apology. The gag made it impossible to tell but the movement of Cassie’s mouth looked close enough to one. It honestly seemed like quite a bizarrely friendly moment between the unlikely duo, ignoring the fact that they were both completely naked and Maya was making Cassie wash her of course. She really did enjoy the company. Would it have been better if they could communicate more fluidly? Yes, but it was still nice. Cassie had even let out a relieved laugh as Maya smiled, taking a deep breath as she realised everything was okay.

Noting how nice the moment was, Maya of course had to ruin it by indicating for Cassie to pause for a moment while she promptly bent over the bed and presented her very round butt. The brief moment of peace Cassie felt dissipated, her heterosexual disgust would make itself known once again as Maya turned around, and the blushing and whimpering Cassie got to work scrubbing at the woman's rather plump rear end.

Maya really enjoyed the sensation, likely too much. Feeling the wet jumpsuit rub against her skin, Cassie scrubbing just a bit fast in her clear discomfort at the task, Maya had an idea. She immediately lowered her right hand and began touching herself, rubbing her clit in circular motions that mimicked the motions in which Cassie washed her.  

Cassie shut her eyes as she hurriedly scrubbed away, only for them to shoot open when she heard the sound. “ Ugh. This is so wrong” she thought to herself, shaking her head and finishing up with the woman's cheeks.

Maya looked disappointed that Cassie finished washing her butt without having a chance to climax yet, and so she spun around and decided the girl could make up for that. Withdrawing her hand from between her thighs, she gestured with a wet finger for Cassie to wash her…down there. She was technically still honouring her promise to not make her use her mouth.

Cassie whined again through her panty gag, but was at least happy she wouldn't be using her fingers or tongue. Though as she began rubbing away at Maya's wet pussy, the fear of having to put this jumpsuit back on was palpable. She figured she should probably get used to the idea of being humiliated, but didn't exactly want to just yet.

Getting increasingly excited, Maya reached an arm back and gripped Cassie’s hand, directing her to scrub between her pussy lips. She was fine with her being rough now if she wanted. Whether she got the hint or was just incredibly frustrated by the whole thing, Cassie began rubbing very roughly. She just wanted to get this over with, go to sleep, and get the tiniest bit of peace before doing this all over again. “All over again”... She wasn't built for this place. Maya, already quite close, shook with delight at the thorough “wash.” Before she knew it her knees practically buckled as she came hard on the jumpsuit. Cassie should have known it was inevitable, but her eyes went wide with shock as her jumpsuit was defiled, dropping it and looking up at Maya in panty gagged horror.

Maya gave her a puzzled look that said ‘what’s your problem?’ She didn’t really see what the big deal was given the amount of dirt and blood that usually ended up on her own clothes. Genuinely curious, she plucked her pair of underwear from out of Cassie’s mouth and expected her to elaborate. 

Cassie gasped for clean air as the panties were finally removed, coughing a bit before looking at Maya, though she was unsure exactly what she was expected to say. "Um... thank you?'

Maya nodded dismissively…and then pushed them back into Cassie’s mouth. She grabbed the book again and pointed to two words “every” and “night.” 

Cassie gagged once again as the panties were stuffed right back in, whimpering at the words before gesturing to the gag. She had so many questions. When could she take it out? Would this be every night too? She received no further elaboration. Maya tossed Cassie the dirty blanket and climbed up to the top bunk where she sprawled herself out on the thin mattress. 

Cassie let out a disgusted squeak as the blanket was tossed to her, throwing it to the floor and deciding she would go without any sort of covering for the night. 

Chapter Text

It was another gruelling day in the mines for Amy Bendix, and while she was ready to just relax for a bit and give her aching feet a break, the Cuckoos had a better idea in mind. "Hey, Cum Licker. We've got a proposition for you." They were still very much amused by Amy's reluctant following of their orders the other day.

Shooting up from her seat in the yard, Amy looked at the ominously identical siblings with mild dismay. “Is that gonna be my nickname now?” she asked in a bored tone. Admittedly she found the humiliation of the nickname a bit hot.

The Cuckoos all smirked in unison, not caring about her apparent boredom with the nickname. They thought it was hilarious. "Of course it is. We've already told everyone we know that's your name now." They then went silent for a moment, using their telepathic hive mind for a private conversation before getting closer to the girl. "How'd you like to meet our boss?'

“Really? You’ll let me meet her?” Amy asked, eyes wide in excitement. She reacted like she was about to meet her personal hero, not a woman who was currently in prison for a myriad of deeply perverted crimes. It took her a moment to think that it seemed too easy. “Wait, what’s the catch?”

The Cuckoos smiled again, rather flirtatiously this time. "You have to do three tasks, each worse than the last. Oh, and there will be a warm up first." They said, in creepy unison as always.

Amy fidgeted uncomfortably, but no amount of discomfort would make her see reason enough to think that to accept would be a bad idea. Giving it just a moment's thought, she nodded. “I’ll do whatever you want”

They gave her a nod, then one by one they dropped their jumpsuits and undies, turned around, and stuck their bare butts out at Amy. "Give us each a kiss, then you get your first official trial."

Amy looked at their pale round rears with clear enthusiasm and then promptly got on her knees and pressed her lips against them, giving each of the ominous women a tender kiss upon their arse. “If this is what the trials are like this is going to be a piece of cake” she thought to herself, not knowing that at least one of the Cuckoos probably heard the thought. 

Or at least she wouldn't get to know for certain, but the answer would seem obvious as they stood back up and pulled up their pants, careful not to give the horny girl a view of their pussies. "Your trials won't be as easy as the warm up. Your first task is to steal Illyana's little puppet. Lockheed will be ours or you won't be."

“Got it” Amy nodded again with half her focus on wishing she could see the frontside of the Cuckoos. “Just one question: who’s Illyana?”

The Cuckoos scoffed, though it was more about Illyana than Amy's lack of knowledge. "She's a snarky mean girl who thinks she's better than us just because she scares the loser mutants more. We like the idea of knocking her down a peg." They hadn't even informed Emma yet. Whether or not she would care is another story.

————————————————————— 

Amy Bendix needed no further information before she eagerly set off, strutting towards Illyana’s cell with an unearned sense of confidence. How hard would it be to steal a puppet? She grew up on the streets, committing petty crimes to get by. Thievery was like the one thing she was great at in her own opinion. Were the Cuckoos intentionally giving her the easiest tasks imaginable? 

Not even the lustful moans of intimate inmates could distract her from her task. Soon she’d be a slave of the Emma Frost - she just had to get this over with. Arriving at the cell she’d been told to visit, she immediately was forced to a groan. That goth chick from the mines was there, the one whose name Amy had totally forgotten. 

Rogue was currently screaming her head off, deciding cries of pain were far less humiliating than outright pleading for mercy. She refused to give her tormentor that satisfaction as Illyana bounced her by her panties, the goth both furious and humiliated to be the subject of such a juvenile prank. "You wanna act like an immature brat, I'll treat you like one." All Rogue had done was glare when Illyana called her the "human chastity belt."

Amy knew she should have left (standing outside the cell was hardly inconspicuous after all) but she just couldn’t pull away. With a smirk on her face she watched the scene unfold. There was something deeply entertaining about seeing the “bitchy goth woman from the mines” having her prison-issued panties ripped so high in the air that her feet hovered above the ground. Amy really was curious if Rogue’s poorly made underwear would rip under the dire strain. 

Illyana chuckled as she watched Rogue bounce, pops and tears sounding out from the underwear. Her brother used to give her wedgies to "adjust her attitude" when they were younger, so this was a no-brainer for the blonde."Are you going to behave from now on?"

Rogue nodded, though probably would have said anything to escape. Illyana gave a final bounce that tore the panties in two. Having an evil idea, she took the half in her hands, shoved it in Rogue's ear, then yanked the front half out of the shrieking goth's pussy, shoving that part in the other ear.

It took Amy all her willpower to force her laugh back, not wanting to draw attention to her stalking. It had only been a few minutes of seeing Illyana at work, but she had no idea how the Cuckoos could possibly dislike this woman. Amy already had a huge respect for Illyana’s cruel style of bullying. If Amy preferred a more dominant role she hoped she would be like her. 

As much as she enjoyed the sight, Amy knew she was really pushing her luck just standing there. She may have had a quick respect for the woman, but she had a job to do after all and that just so happened to involve stealing from her. 

Illyana smiled down at the blushing Rogue, the goth's usually pale skin making her embarrassment more obvious. The blonde then reached under her pillow to pull out her favourite thing in the world: her puppet, Lockheed. She placed him on her hand and practically skipped over to Rogue, then crouched down and put the puppet up to her ear."What's that, Lockheed? You think Rogue should be more grateful I don't sell her for cigarettes? I totally agree. Perhaps we will have to start."

Her words were slightly muffled, but Rogue still understood and felt her heart sink. People may not be able to touch her, but not every inmate needed to to inflict maximum pain and humiliation. 

From Amy’s cover around the corner (which was not suspicious at all to anyone who saw her), she was forced to take a mental pause. Was Illyana talking to a puppet? Ok so maybe she wasn’t as cool as she seemed, but Amy was going to ignore that. She realised this was the puppet she was supposed to steal. The young thief really should have just left and returned later, but she still was enjoying eavesdropping too much. Her self-preservation skills were astoundingly lacking for a woman from such a rough background.

Rogue shook her head, indicating she didn't want to be sold for cigarettes, but then again, who would? Aside from Amy of course.

Illyana chuckled, mentally debating whether she'd go through with her plans, when she suddenly noticed Amy out of the corner of her eye. She turned, gasping at the sight of the girl. "Who are you?

Amy turned around as if Illyana could possibly be speaking to some other unseen pervert. Realising that no, the bully did in fact mean her, Amy blushed and took a step back. “Me?” 

She asked, sensing that the punishment she enjoyed watching be inflicted so much may soon be directed at her. 

Illyana nodded, a glare now appearing on her face. "Yes, you. Think you can get a front row seat to this moody brat's punishment without payment?" She then noticeably covered Lockheed with her free hand, hoping to keep him safe from this stranger.

“Payment? I mean I guess I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you…” Amy propositioned with fake reluctance. If Illyana accepted, Amy would kill two birds with one stone, having gotten to sleep with the sexy Russian bully and stealing the puppet. Maybe she’d even let her wedgie Rogue! Three birds.

Illyana raised an eyebrow and chuckled. She'd been thinking of something more sadistic, but honestly it had been awhile since she'd had sex. An entire two days! And she did enjoy that reluctance evident in her voice. "Have you ever slept with a woman before?"

“I have not!” Amy answered, a little too loudly. 

Illyana chuckled again. This girl was too cute. She stood up, placing her hands and Lockheed behind her back, then got up real close to Amy. "And are you into girls?" She said in a sweet voice.

“Yeah” Amy nodded, staring unafraid at Illyana. 

Illyana frowned, quickly losing interest. She was a cruel person who loved making people uncomfortable. She missed the girl's earlier reluctance. "Then find someone else. Get lost." She then returned to Rogue and began yanking up on the goth's jumpsuit causing her to groan at the new wedgie.

“Wait what? Oh c’mon…” Amy groaned. How was it so hard for her to get turned out in prison? Cassie Lang was claimed on day one but here Amy was, two days in, and still a fucking virgin. Her feelings were honestly a little bit hurt. Enough so that she’d completely forgotten about the fact she was meant to steal the puppet. Currently she just wanted Illyana’s approval. 

Speaking over Rogue’s pained cries from her jumpsuit currently flossing her tender buttcrack, Amy said: “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me”

Illyana giggled a little as she listened to Rogue's cries of pain, then suddenly let go, kicking Rogue to the ground, and turned to Amy with a serious expression. "Anything?" She thought over this for a moment, then stood back up, planted a foot down on Rogue's butt, and got in Amy's face. "You're going to regret that." She then unzipped Amy's jumpsuit and pushed her out of it.

Amy was absolutely beaming as her jumpsuit dropped to the ground and she stood almost naked in the cellblock hallway, about to be dominated by Illyana. Without hesitation she pulled her underwear off and accidentally tossed them into another cell, not that she cared (they could even keep the pair). “You’re so…dominant” She said in a dreamy tone, shaking her naked body for her temporary mistress. It was already so much better than she imagined.

Illyana admired the girl's body. She was definitely one of the curvier girls in the Raft, something the Russian very much enjoyed. She reached out and began feeling up the girl's breasts for a moment, tilting her head back and forth as she kneaded them. After a few seconds, she stopped and locked eyes with her. "Lay down on my bed. On your back."

Amy didn’t need to be told twice. She crawled up onto the top bunk and layed down with her legs spread wide. Her heart was racing, her breaths already quick. 

Illyana smirked at how eager she was. She'd try to wipe that eagerness away. She pulled Rogue up by her jumpsuit and sat the goth down in her little cuck chair, then walked over to Amy. It was strange, but in a weird way Illyana saw it as a favour to Rogue considering the goth girl’s love of watching others get it on. 

Ilyana felt her heartbeat pick up as she caught a glimpse of Amy's buxom cheeks, looking even larger due to her lying position. "Ever stuck a finger up your butt before?"

“I tried once…it actually kind of hurt” By “‘once’ Amy meant the previous night when she was feeling exceptionally horny in her cell. It had been an interesting series of (mostly successful) attempts at pleasuring herself to various parts of her cell, including rubbing her pussy against the cold vibranium bars after lights out. Cassie probably would have been thankful she’d been moved to live with Maya if she knew what she would have had to watch Amy do in the cell they shared for that first night. Amy briefly noted that she should probably tell Cassie not to use her toothbrush before thoroughly washing it when her stuff was moved to her new cell. Amy had had to find something to penetrate herself with after all…

Illyana gave Amy's rear a gentle caress, then moved her fingers over to the girl's crack. "This will be so much worse." Then, without a second of hesitation, she pushed her fist into the crack before her, pressing against Amy's tight hole and trying to force her way inside.

“Oh fuck!” Amy screamed at the sudden violation, feeling a whole new type of pain she hadn’t imagined. It was so much worse than when Officer Renee had conducted her cavity search. Her juicy ass shook, cheeks vibrating, as she tried to deal with the pain. She’d never been so turned on and in this much pain in her entire life. 

Illyana was very happy as she shoved her fist into Amy's tightest area, actually managing to get her knuckles inside. With a little more time, she'd managed to get her entire fist in. "Regret your decision yet, strange horny girl?"

“OW…no” Amy replied, weakly. The pain of Illyana attempting to shove her fist up her butt was completely overwhelming in the best (and worst) way possible. The thief shut her eyes and let herself completely fall into it…and then came a voice from outside the cell. 

“Inmate Rasputina, your turn for mop duty! Get on it!” A guard ordered from afar

Illyana's smile vanished the second she heard the guard, biting her lip and fuming internally. She may be powerful among her fellow prisoners, but she had no sway with the guards. That wouldn't stop her from trying to delay her job. "Can I have five minutes?" She secretly began sliding her other hand out of Lockheed, letting him drop to the floor and kicking him under the bed.

“You’ll do as told, inmate” The guard said, unsympathetic to Illyana’s plight. Meanwhile, Amy let out the most miserable whine imaginable, knowing she wouldn’t get to finish. She was starting to wonder if she was cursed. Was this karma for stealing Daredevil’s costume?

Illyana sighed as she removed her hand from Amy’s butt and placed it to her side, turning to Rogue and giving her a death glare that implied she'd better keep Lockheed's location secret or else. She then made her way over to the guard, pouting the entire time. She couldn't resist the chance to snark at her current order giver. "You sure you don't want me to lick the cum off the bars?"

Amy tended to her pained bottom by laying stomach-down on Illyana’s bed. She considered just staying there until Illyana returned, not really caring that Rogue was staring, but then she remembered why she was there at all: Lockheed. Weakly springing out of bed, she rubbed her aching butt. She needed to be sure Rogue wouldn’t say a word about what she was about to do. Making sure Illyana was out of hearing range, she asked: “So your cellmate’s kinda a dick, huh?”

Rogue sighed, looking down at the ground in shame. This girl had seen everything, and could still see the ripped panty sticking out of her ears. "That's an understatement. You have no idea what it's like sharin’ a cell with her every day..."

“Yeah that must suck…”  Amy did a poor job of feigning genuine sympathy. “...so you wouldn’t snitch if I took that puppet of hers?”

Rogue crossed her arms and looked even less happy than usual. "She'd kill me if I helped make that thing go missin’. Good thing I didn’t see it happen”

“Thanks” Amy said as she put her jumpsuit on and then reached under the bed, taking Lockheed. Amy left as quickly as she possibly could with her wounded behind, departing down the cellblock (Lockheed in hand) at rapid pace. First task complete.

It wouldn't be long before Illyana returned to her cell, wiping her mouth in disgust. Her little quip hadn't gone unpunished, and the guard had made her do exactly what she joked about. She returned to find that Rogue and Amy were both missing, her goth cellmate having booked it out of there after Lockheed was taken. Speaking of the puppet, Illyana smiled as she crouched down and reached under the bed… "Alright, Lockheed. Let's have some fun-." ...only to gasp as she found nothing. "Lockheed?!" 

Chapter Text

Rogue watched petulantly as Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Yukio fled the noisy overused recreation room for the haven of the warm uncomfortable bed of their cell. For the last half hour she’d been forced to sit alongside the sickeningly sweet couple on the only available couch in the room as the two spoke every subtle (and not-so-subtle) promiscuous obscenity to each other in-between making new-arrival Jubilee grab random things.  It wouldn’t have been so annoying…if she wasn’t so starved of contact. It was just her luck that her power-dampening collar had managed to shut off her mutation that allowed her to absorb abilities but it kept the extremely isolating “touch of death” as she’d started calling it. Whilst everyone else seemed to constantly be in the passionate throes of each other, lapping and licking each other’s holes to their heart’s content, the glum goth was physically unable to even touch anyone without them feeling like a shiv was being jammed into their flesh. She hated to be a stereotype, but, given the circumstances, she couldn’t help but be ever-melancholic. Her superpower was basically forced chastity at this point. All in all, it sucked. 

Everyone in The Raft had an intimate intake story about how Officers Weaver or Winters gleefully enjoyed the privilege of seeing the world’s most famous superwomen naked, slowly searching every last curve of their bodies and willingly or unwillingly making them cum. Everyone, that is, except Rogue. Again, thanks to her “superpower” she got to be bent over and have her cute pale white butt felt up by a cold unfeeling robot for ten minutes before being brought naked over to a mugshot board for her pictures. She actually didn’t mind the last part so much, taking the time to pose the best she could, but the point still stood. Rogue was more than familiar with the trope of how horny for each other women got behind bars (nights at X-Mansion were lonely) but thought it was just a fantasy made up in admittedly over-the-top pornos. But then she got to The Raft where it was all very true and she couldn’t even do anything but watch. 

The first few days of her incarceration weren’t so bad. Both Typhoid Mary and Karli Morganthau had tried to claim her in the showers on separate occasions, everyone wanted a big titty goth gf after all (despite the fact that only the goth gf part was true in her case). Both quickly ended up making an embarrassment of themselves as soon as they groped her. Typhoid Mary persistently tried but even her masochistic tendencies had limits, and Rogue was pretty sure Karli quietly started crying from the pain. It was sorta like a weird anti-prison bitch mutation. Everyone knew she was too tough to claim, or at least it would hurt too much to force her tongue between their thighs, but then she started getting bored in her cell. 

Locked up in a hot overcrowded cell (she shared a room with two other women and they only had two beds in total so two of them shared) and unimaginably bored, the almost ever-present sounds of moans all along the cellblock made her more excited than she’d ever been. Despite that, she couldn’t do a thing because she had to share a cell with Laura Kinney and Psylocke. Night one she’d tried to wait until the two of them fell asleep and then in the darkness of lights out quietly sneak her hand down beneath her jumpsuit to relieve herself of the desire already drenching her prison-issued panties. It had totally felt worth it…until the next morning.

Rogue awoke the next morning to see Laura looming over her. She remembered well the grave smirk on Laura’s face as she responded, “I could hear you touching yourself last night, puta. I thought about killing you, but I decided I’ll be nice to my poor horny cellie and help you get off.” That had been when Rogue looked down and noticed that a single long blade, a claw, was extended out between Laura’s knuckles, teetering just a flick away from giving Rogue a very painful cut between her legs. 

Rogue was obviously horrified and pleaded with Laura to not “help” her. Although nothing ever came of the threat, for the next few weeks she had been too scared to try, despite how much she wanted to. It felt like a nightmare as, every night, she kept catching her hands slipping down along her orange clothes just longing to get off already. Every fibre of the poor goth mutant’s being shook with anticipation she was too fearful to give in to.

She was just about on the verge of not caring anymore when Laura got dragged off to solitary for trying to kill a girl in Hydra for calling her a racial slur and Psylocke almost got what Rogue learned is apparently called “an early release” when she ended up in the infirmary thanks to a nasty fight with Ghost over the rights to claim Darcy Lewis. When Rogue heard neither would be back for awhile, she was practically ready to jump for joy. Not an extra moment passed after her work came to a close before she ran back to her cell, dropped her jumpsuit, and laid down (on Laura’s bed just for the fun of it). She didn’t care how sore her arms were from mining, she was going to do whatever she wanted for as long as she wanted. 

While anywhere outside of prison she would be ashamed to admit it, Rogue explored herself to the sight of the cell across from her. The newest prissy blonde unfortunate enough to land herself a stay behind bars, Karen Page, had been marched into her new home. A home she’d be sharing with Elektra, master assassin and, even worse, her boyfriend’s ex. Rogue’s fingers grinded against her wet crotch to the sight of Karen being forcefully stripped naked by her wicked cellmate and then getting pushed right up against the bars, perky breasts squeezed hard between the cold vibranium rods. The sight of the oddly-tantalising cruelty felt overwhelming. By the time Elektra had actually undressed herself and forced Karen to lick her arse, Rogue had made herself come twice. Watching as the new girl lapped away at her cellmate’s butt, a look of shock and disgust embedded on her face, Rogue almost envied her. 

Rogue adjusted to incarcerated life as best she could; meaning she’d joined a prison gang, The Sisterhood. Arguably the word “joined” was a bit of an exaggeration since she was granted immediate membership just due to being a mutant, and a former X-Men member no less, but still she was in a gang and that was kinda badass to her. She may not have been a super telepath like Emma Frost, or an internationally feared terrorist like Mystique, but Jean Grey had taken a liking to her thanks to the extreme pain her touch brought. Sure she got bullied for being relatively new to the group and her dark style attracted some mockery, but she didn’t have to worry about getting shivved. Despite all of those benefits though, Rogue’s pretty pale goth face was in a permanent pout as the women all around her moaned. She’d dreaded prison and longed for freedom when she was first arrested, but truthfully at this point she just wished she could join in on the fun. It was a lonely existence, but Rogue reminded herself that the notion of friendship in prison was merely an invitation to be stabbed in the back. Case in point, her cellmate.

“Now what’s got you depressed, Wednesday Addams? Did someone smile at you?” Illyana Rasputina asked in her Russian accent, a playful grin on her face as she crashed down onto the cushion beside Rogue. Was throwing herself down onto a seat next to someone who, if she accidentally banged into, it would feel like her skin was being peeled off very wise? Probably not. 

“Careful! Look, ain’t you got somewhere else to sit?” Rogue asked in her equally strong southern drawl. She knew logically it would be Illyana’s own fault if they accidentally touched but she didn’t want to get blamed for it like she inevitably always did.

Illyana only shrugged as she got herself comfortable. “I want to sit here. You can leave” she suggested while staring up at the crappy TV set up in the rec room. I Love Lucy was on…what a surprise. “Do you ever smile?”

“October 31st, 2013. It was the worst ten seconds of my life” Rogue crossed her arms as she shrunk into the worn down corner of the couch to put distance between herself and the woman sitting next to her. Hoping to distance herself from the conversation, she looked anywhere that wasn’t in Illyana’s direction, eventually settling on the sight of Jubilee. “Sorry. She said I have to do this” the girl apologised sincerely as she appeared from nowhere and stole the television remote from Wanda, changed the channel, and then fled as quickly as possible. 

“So did you see what happened to Moonstar this morning?” Illyana made small talk as she nestled herself cozily on the couch. When Rogue failed to respond she added, “Spilled her tray, covered herself in slop, remember?” She really didn’t need to add details to jog Rogue’s memory since everyone saw but she felt it was worth adding. 

Rogue sighed as she realised that it was pointless to be quiet in hopes Illyana would leave her alone. “Didn’t ya shove her?” she asked tiredly.

“I helped her” Illyana defended, before adding “It is not like she can’t afford to miss a few meals.” The joke wasn’t funny but Illyana proudly chuckled at her own response. 

Rogue just rolled her eyes, Maybe her annoying “friend” would leave her alone now? The silence lasted a whole of thirty seconds.  

Illyana wasn’t oblivious to Rogue’s clear displeasure and so decided to keep going. “Seriously, I need you to lighten up. You’re making me want to kill myself” she teased. She knew that Rogue didn’t like being deemed miserable. 

“C’mere a second I think my collar just started working” Rogue dryly threatened just to get her to shut up. The attempt didn’t work though as Illyana just stared at her with a suppressed laugh that quickly became far less suppressed. 

As Illyana started with some quippy remark Rogue just got up from her seat. Her cell was preferable at this point. Unfortunately for her, they shared a cell so this break was very temporary.Before she’d even fully risen from the cushion, Illyana stopped her with a simple sentence. “I know what you did” the blonde mutant beamed. 

Rogue genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to but it couldn't have been good. Genuinely bewildered, Rogue nervously asked: “What do you mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about” Illyana replied in an annoying sing-song voice. 

Growing tenser, Rogue said: “No, I really don’t.” She’d already exceeded her limit on Illyana for the day five minutes ago. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“I knew you were a pervert, but this…it’s a new low even for you” Illyana was relentlessly vague. 

Rogue tensed. “Seriously, what did I do?”

“I know you’ve been stealing underwear and doing whatever it is you do with them” Illyana relayed with the most punchable smile. 

“What the fuck? No I haven’t!” Rogue exclaimed in complete disgust. She was sexually desperate, but she would never do that .

Illyana rolled her eyes. “Uh yeah you did. I found them under your bed. You either stole them, or they just magically appeared there. I’m sure not being able to touch anyone can be lonely but I can’t just let you continue being a disgusting little pervert.” she said very loudly, deliberately making sure everyone in the room could hear.

“You’re gonna shut up or I swear-” Rogue was prepared to face whatever consequences may come from harming Illyana but was forced to stop as someone approached from behind. Terror struck Rogue as she turned around to see her approaching fast with furious determination and a look on her face that announced that she was ready to do what she was best at (a grim fate that even Rogue wouldn’t have much enjoyed). Despite her stature, just one look from Laura terrified most Sisterhood members who weren’t named Jean or Emma Frost. To her credit, Rogue didn’t flinch, but her eyes did widen, which for her was an emotional declaration akin to screaming. 

“I should have known it was you” Laura growled, taking hold of the collar of Rogue’s jumpsuit and pulling her in close. As Rogue had learned during their brief time as cellmates, Laura was a no-nonsense kind of woman who was volatile on a good day. 

“Do I look stupid enough to attempt to steal from you?” Rogue questioned, careful to keep her tone collected and flat. Through observation she’d since learned from their previous violent encounter that it was best to not show fear. “Actually, let me rephrase that before it backfires. Why would I steal from you ?”

“Because you’re a pervert” Illyana chimed in from her place on the couch, receiving a low sort of snarl from Laura that promptly made her shut up. 

Rogue had no chance of overpowering the furious lab-experiment, but she could maybe talk her way through this. “You have a reputation for brutality. There are plenty of other options. Why not steal from Dani and Rahne?”

Laura clenched her jaw and paused. Equal parts thinking over the validity of Rogue’s point and wanting to just kill her here and now. Letting Rogue go, she said: “Uniform off” 

“Why?” Rogue asked, brow raised. 

“Uniform. Off”

Not daring to refuse Laura’s demand, the goth looked with dead eyes at her tormentor as she got to work unzipping her jumpsuit. Her clothes fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing more than her white underwear. Crossing her arms to conceal her pale tits, she waited for whatever fresh torment Laura had planned. This would have been funner had Rogue been able to be touched. 

“Give me your jumpsuit” Laura commanded, hand outstretched. 

Rogue rolled her eyes but did as told, giving the hideously bright orange clothes over with a sigh. “What’s the point of this?” she asked expressionlessly. 

Laura took the jumpsuit and slung it over her shoulder. “You get it back when you find the person who actually did it. If you don’t find them before tomorrow I’ll cut your clit off.”

Rogue nodded in understanding, internally groaning at the way her day had turned out. She’d simply wanted to return to her cell while Illyana wasn’t present for a period of ‘personal time’ (not that she hadn’t ever done it while Illyana was in the room, but she preferred to not hear the girl heckle her through the process). Now she had a case to solve, the promise of a vile injury to escape, and a lack of clothing to deal with. This day was turning out to be quite dreadful. 

————————————————————— 

Arms still crossed, Rogue walked slowly through the halls of The Raft in quiet contemplation on who could be the culprit. The most painfully obvious suspect was Illyana herself, possibly driven to framing Rogue out of some new scheme to make her miserable. Could it have been comeuppance for Rogue’s role in the kidnapping of Lockheed? She wouldn’t have put it past Illyana to risk getting her killed over ‘misplacing’ a puppet…but stealing from Laura was moronic. It involved far too much risk of being caught for Illyana to have snuck into her cell and done the job herself. Could she have paid someone? It would have to be someone both exceptionally stupid and desperate. Stupid and desperate…Amy Bendix!

At once Rogue picked up her pace in search of the young criminal. Last she heard she was still trying to earn her way into Emma Frost’s stupid sex cult (‘stupid’ solely because Rogue couldn’t join). Rogue decided there were two possibilities for the motive: Illyana tracked Amy, Lockheed’s actual thief, down and forced her into doing a favour (not that Amy probably minded much), or this was another of the girl’s weird tasks set forth by the Stepford Cuckoos. Both seemed plausible enough.

The goth tracked down Amy through a process of elimination to the cell of the aforementioned Cuckoos, who had the criminal earning favour between tasks by doing small acts of servitude. Standing outside the cell, Rogue couldn’t help but be admittedly impressed by the thief’s ability to multitask.Currently Amy’s face was nestled between the cheeks of Esme (or was it Phoebe?) while her right hand worked away furiously slipping back and forth at the wet pussy of Celeste (or wait was Celeste Esme?), and her left hand massaged someone-who-was-maybe-Sophie’s sore feet. Rogue had no way of differentiating the identical quintuplets. They all just looked like the exact same younger Emma Frost. 

While they nodded, nearly fapping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at their chamber door. Rogue entreated entry but received nothing more than the quintuplets all stopping any signs of movement or pleasure, as if frozen, at once. Entirely silent for a moment, they abruptly all looked up at the exact same time. “What do you want?” they asked in perfect unison. Rogue appreciated their knack for the creepy sibling thing.

“I need to borrow Amy. She took something off Laura…but you probably already knew that” Rogue realised the Manson Girls probably could clear this up for her pretty fast. There was all of sudden silence in which the sisters communicated telepathically on whose turn it would be to probe Amy’s mind…eventually settling on Esme. Their ability for entering people’s thoughts was a lot less powerful than Jean Grey’s – requiring the victim to have their mental walls down – but luckily Amy was hardly resistant to their whims. 

“Give us each a magazine from your collection and we’ll tell you what we know” They demanded.

Rogue sighed, she had a sudden headache that felt as if someone had taken a lead pipe to her head. “Sure” she  agreed, reasoning it was better to give away a part of her collection than have X-23 give her an amateur clitoridectomy. 

“She didn’t steal anything off Laura’s. You’ll have to keep looking if you want to avoid what Laura has planned for you” They read Rogue’s mind. That explained the piercing headache. “Oh and call us the Manson Girls again and we’ll find a use for you that even you wouldn’t enjoy. Now go”

That ruled out Rogue’s main suspect. Walking away, she attempted to figure out who else it could possibly be. She wasn’t well liked, but she (unfortunately) had few dire enemies. Psylocke had mellowed out quite a lot since she started dating Polaris. There was Dazzler, who she’d offended by saying “I find your music to be an ear-bleeding, uninspired cacophony of melodies with lyrics written only for mass-appeal.” They weren’t exactly friends after that, but she didn’t seem the type to orchestrate this. 

“Sorry. She said I have to do this” those words resurfaced in Rogue’s head…but from where? She strained to remember who had said it until she remembered that it was the new girl. Jubilee had been doing random acts all day. That seemed like a good enough lead. 

Rogue found Jubilee relaxing on a bench in the yard. Of course the culprit had to be hiding out under the eye-burning sunlight, Rogue’s one true weakness. She approached with a slightly emotion-tinted: “What did you do?”

Jubilee’s eyes went wide, doing a poor job of acting like she didn’t know what she did. “I don’t-”

“Don’t right now cuz I’ve got fuckin’ Laura Kinney about to mutilate me if I don’t prove I haven’t been taking her stuff. If you don’t talk I’m gonna make sure you spend the next few days in the infirmary. Why did you steal her underwear?”

Jubilee looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Negasonic dared me to” It was a shame that she confessed so fast. Rogue was looking forward to the prospect of torture.

Rogue genuinely was confused now. “Are you suicidal? Why would you accept that?”

“Why are your tits out?” Jubilee asked a question of her own, perplexed by Rogue’s current state of undress. She was having a hard time not staring. 

Rogue felt suddenly self-conscious but took it with stride. “Laura rook my clothes. Now answer the question”

“I didn’t want to…but I’m sure you know how ridiculous the Sisterhood hazing rituals are. It’s not my fault. You really should blame her!” Jubilee exclaimed. There were no Sisterhood hazing rituals. The whole point of the gang was that it was a haven for any mutant.  Rogue could have simply told Jubilee that, but Jubilee’s actions had caused her enough trouble today to not put the goth in a particularly helpful mood. 

“Yeah the hazing…” Rogue nodded. “Makes sense. But what I don’t get is why you put it under my bed”

“Oh Illyana caught me leaving Laura’s cell and told me part of the challenge was to put them there. I promise I didn’t even know it was your cell” 

Rogue found it pathetic how fast Jubilee explained everything. “Well you have to tell Laura that Negasonic made you do it. She’d be understanding” 

“Really? Because she seems pretty violent. Didn’t you just say she threatened to mutilate you?” Jubilee asked innocently. 

“Yeah but that’s cuz she just thought I did it for fun. She’d be fine if you explained it was part of the customary hazing ritual” Rogue was just remorselessly making things up. 

“I don’t know…” Jubilee looked at her dubiously 

“You’ve got my word. Besides, you either tell her now or…” Rogue took her glove off and raised it to touch Jubilee’s cheek. “...I’ll give you pain unimaginable” 

“A-Alright”

“Oh actually don’t tell her it was Negasonic that made you do it. Tell her it was Illyana, she likes her more” Rogue added. 

Jubilee nodded. “Got it” She had no idea of the pain she was in for…

Having reclaimed her jumpsuit from Laura, Rogue gloomily passed row after row of seemingly endless bars in cell block B, their inhabitants lucky enough to get to enjoy the privilege of getting to be intimate. The moans emanating, seemingly, from each she passed only served to torment the poor horny mutant. Honestly, she was jealous of all of them almost all of the time. She’d kill to get to be with someone other than her own hand just once. She wasn’t even picky how. Getting turned out and sold for fishsticks in the cafeteria? Sure that sounded great! Forced to clean her cellmate’s feet with her tongue as an act of humiliation? Awesome. Having her face sat on by Yelena? Cool! Getting taken to a guard’s office for a private session of punishment? That sounded amazing. What cruel goddess did a girl have to fuck to get to enjoy herself? She knew that if any of those scenarios actually happened she wouldn’t find it so fun, but a whole year of this constant, omnipresent, tease of what she couldn’t have was driving her insane. In summation, she was desperate .

Rogue’s mental rant about her chastity was suddenly stopped as a cloud of smoke was blown in her face from between the bars of a cell. Relaxing against the door of the cell was a smoking tattooed woman who jeered at their unwanted visitor. “Keep walking” she said as if Rogue needed to be told. 

Rogue passed by Elektra counting cigarettes on her the way down the cellblock, a topless Karen Page tucked beneath her finely toned arm in a terrifying death grip. Judging by how red her eyes were from crying, it was pretty clear Karen had just been forced to do something she absolutely didn’t want to do. Rogue thought it best to leave them be and not engage. 

At long last, Rogue arrived at her cell, Cell #1997, and opened the loud metal door. Closing it shut behind her, she tossed herself face-down on her bed with an agonised groan into (what would have been odd smelling if she wasn’t used to the unsavoury scent) mattress. She couldn’t take it anymore. Between her previously mentioned awful powers, the ever-obnoxious Illyana, painfully long hours in the mine, and every other aspect of prison life, she just needed a break from it. 

Rogue flipped over and reached down under the frame of her bed for one of many erotic magazines she’s traded cigarettes, meals, and books for. It was hardly something to be proud of, but the Gothic Southern Belle single handedly held The Raft’s largest porn collection. Dozens upon dozens of dirty magazines full of pictures of both men and women posing in all manner of states of undress. Yet she was bored of all of it. She’d tried getting ahold of a sex toy to maybe help liven things up a bit but they were surprisingly hard to trade for. Anything phallic was elusive in an all women’s prison and it was mostly gang leaders who managed to get ahold of them. 

With a sigh, Rogue picked a magazine at random and lifted it up for her personal viewing. The Timely Co. Swimsuit Special, ok. It wasn’t like she had “read” it a hundred times before. Setting it aside for a moment, she sat up and took off her jumpsuit entirely, doing away with the crumpled up itchy orange ball of clothing at the foot of her bed. There, she was free of that at least. She laid back down, now wearing nothing but her underwear, and held the spine of the cheaply made book in her left hand while her right took no time at all to trail its way between her firm thighs. 

She grazed her clit in slippery passes: inner and outer lips, playing in and out of her opening. Head back on the singular thin pillow, breathing rugged and harsh. 

Fast and shuddering, Rogue came upon her fingertips. Warmth spread through her and she let herself be lost in it, an afterglow just like so many before and yet just as euphoric. Her wet hand drew back along her intense dark chestnut bush (that had just a single adorable streak of pearl white running through it). She thought she’d pause for a moment but then, without even really knowing she was doing it, she pushed a finger back inside. She now knew another, much bigger, climax would be worth it. 

She made herself wait, slowing down so it would build more. Light strokes on her clit, the finger inside thrusting softly. She was so close to that edge, dancing along it, playing with how far she could possibly go.

Women passed her cell, some throwing glances at the masturbating goth girl while others didn’t care, but Rogue didn’t mind. It was hard to be shy in a place like The Raft where everyone saw you naked at least twice a week. Her chest heaved steadily with the rapid moves her fingers made along her pussy, wet sloshes almost as audible as the moans which escaped her ebony black lips. 

In a passionate frenzy, she cast the magazine she had been holding aside and shut her eyes. Her left hand found her pasty left tit and she grasped and teased at it as furiously as her right hand worked to get her off again. Staring off into the eternal blackness of her eyelids, she could almost imagine that all her efforts were being done by another. This person, who she was too enraptured to imagine fully, worked mind-blowing miracles with their tongue. At last, she felt it all come to a head as she let herself cum again.

Rogue tucked herself under her, now wet, blanket and did her best to ignore the hollow feeling she always had after her “private” moment had ended and she found herself in bed alone once again. Soon enough she slipped off into sleep without even realising she’d been tired. 

The Southern Belle awoke at 6 PM, about an hour after she’d fallen asleep, to the sound of the cellblock shouting their heads off at someone. Sounded like someone new must have arrived. Footsteps echoed down the hall, getting closer and closer to her cell. Rogue silently prayed she wouldn’t be the one getting yet another cellmate just as the guard stopped at her door. 

“Welcome to your new home” The guard remarked over the sound of the horny yelling of prisoners. The cell door opened itself and she shoved in the new inmate. Rogue already hated whoever her new cellmate was…until she saw who it was.

“Uh like thanks I guess…” the new girl paused, eyes looking over Rogue tucked underneath the blanket in shock. She was of slender build, a young woman with a fair petite figure that made the already bulky power-dampening collar around her neck look comically oversized. Her light brown hair was tied up in a messy ponytail with strands hanging over the sides of her face. “Oh. My. Gosh. Rogue?!” She stammered

Rogue was at a loss for words. The absolute last thing she wanted to see was her best friend, Kitty Pryde, locked up in The Raft with her, but, somewhere deep down, a selfish part of her was overjoyed to just see someone she knew she wouldn’t have to be on guard with. Most former X-Men had either gone crazy (Jean) or didn’t talk to her much (Storm). The question she asked was pointless but she stood by her surprise. “Kitty? What are you doin’ here?”

“They kinda found me like just trying to stay out of things and I got like caught by the sentinels, y’know? I didn’t even do anything!” Kitty insisted as the door slammed shut behind her. The guard left the two friends to catch up. They’d have plenty of time since they were both serving indefinite sentences. 

“That ain’t that much of a surprise to me…” Rogue said. She was really bad at being there for other people (especially since she was rusty at it thanks to being there for other people being an  open invitation to getting used in prison). “Are ya ok?” She tried

“Well my intake was just like totally unbelievable. The um guard just totally stripped me like fully naked and then did whatever she wanted with me” Luckily for Rogue, Kitty talked more than enough for the both of them. “I like had to uh hold still while she shoved her finger up my butt. I tried telling her it was like totally against my rights but she didn’t even listen! It was just so uncool. Did they do it to you too?”

Rogue looked at her with cold sympathy, though she couldn’t relate. “Well no…but everyon’ else has been through it. I was safe ‘cuz the whole touching ma’ skin makes people want to die thing”

“Oh right yeah. Your collar doesn’t um like do something about that? I kinda thought that was like the point” Kitty asked, more earnestly interested than just about anyone Rogue had talked to in the last year. 

“Yeah but me bein’ me, it didn’t really work too well. I just can’t absorb powers anymore” 

“That totally blows!” Kitty said cheerily, hoping having a somewhat positive tone would lighten Rogue up a bit. 

“Yeah…” Rogue nodded. She almost could forget that they were in prison right now and not their dorm in X-Mansion. Almost. Of course thinking that, the next thing Kitty asked was:

“So like how’s prison been? Between that bogus start and then all of the yelling on my way in, I um can’t say my expectations are really high, y’know?” Kitty asked. The naive young mutant was entering prison life far more oblivious than Rogue had. Her knowledge of prison life was limited to…everything. Hearing the expression “don’t drop the soap” would have been entirely new to the innocent superheroine. 

Rogue, never one to miss a grim detail, answered honestly: “It’s been real bad. Not to undermine ya, but your intake ain’t nothing in comparison to what I’ve seen in here, Kitty. It’s so much worse! Ma’ first day in here one of them tried to force herself on me in the showers and I only barely got away. Just yesterday I saw someone get sold as a slave for some cigarettes. They made her lick every hole”

Kitty managed to look both mortified and like she was mentally flashing through stages of cognitive dissonance. Her mind was seriously slow on computing just how vile those were. 

“What?! But I…reform…” she just murmured random words 

“There ain’t no reform here” Rogue replied a little bitterly, jaded from her year in the complete hellhole. But bitterness wasn’t going to help Kitty feel better so she added, “But I promise I’ll protect you. You got my word”

In the sudden surprise of seeing her best friend in her cell and then trying to catch her up on prison life, Rogue had completely forgotten she was naked underneath her blanket. So when she loosened her grip on it and the sheet came falling down…

“Oh hey woah!” Kitty exclaimed in embarrassed horror, quickly trying to avert her eyes from Rogue’s titties on full display. While she didn’t notice, the sudden panic made Kitty phase through the back of her jumpsuit for just the slightest of seconds before returning to her original position.

Rogue should have been cripplingly embarrassed, and she was, but Kitty managing to phase pushed all of that aside. She jumped out of bed and walked over to her friend. Her heart raced so fast that she felt like she could hear it. Back at X-Mansion Kitty had always been the only person she could touch because she could enter a state of half phasing and half material, just physical enough to be felt but not physical enough to experience the pain of Rogue’s touch. 

“Oh ma’ gawd! Hold still for a second!” She ordered a little more intensely than she meant. “Remember that thing ya could do before? So we could touch?” Rogue failed to see how creepy her saying that while naked came off, either a result of being super awkward or being in prison too long. 

Kitty still dramatically held her right hand over her eyes like a mother trying to protect the innocence of their child. “Uh….yeah…but like uh I can’t do that with the collar on” she said hesitantly as her very naked friend approached her.

“Can you just try? I really need to test somethin’” Rogue begged. She needed this to work. All this time she hadn’t been able to touch another person and now maybe that could finally change. 

Kitty rolled her eyes, “S-Suuuure…I guess. Just be careful!” She gave in and strained against her collar. There was usually a feeling of strange transcendence that came with phasing, a state where her body felt almost like air. But her body didn’t feel anything like that at the moment. It felt entirely, boringly, normal.

Rogue approached slowly, a single finger pointed out. Every second felt agonising as she feared hurting Kitty but she couldn’t stop herself from trying this. 

“If you kill me I’m gonna be like so mad” Kitty remarked 

With a gentle tap, Rogue’s finger pressed against Kitty’s hand and…nothing happened. Nothing happened! This was the best day of Rogue’s life. Her whole body seemed to race with sudden electrifying currents on a mission to alert every system in her body that she could touch someone else. “This is awesome! Oh ma’ gawd!”

“It worked- Whoah!!!” Kitty was about to ask but was suddenly cut off as her lips parted as Rogue’s own lips pushed against her. Tingles struck down her back as Rogue closed the gap between their mouths, first with the utmost gentleness, then with the hunger of a touch starved woman. It was a fiery thoughtless moment of passion that made Kitty go flush as it lingered. 

Realising what she’d just done, Rogue threw herself back, lips parting in an instant. Her heart still beat rapidly in her chest longing for another sweet embrace, to feel the touch of another. 

“I’m sorry…I got excited.” 

Chapter Text

With burning eyes, Wanda opened the door to the cell. She was as quiet as a mouse, checking the room and breathing a sigh of relief when she realised Jean was not there. She crumpled onto her bed, hiding her face under the thin covers and letting out a sob.
She had just returned from visiting Carol in the ward and was overwhelmed with the feeling of guilt, a feeling she was very familiar with. Carol’s words echoed in her head, making her very confused as it jumbled with all the other voices in there.
Kill her.
It’s your fault.
I want to die.

She pressed her hands to the side of her head as she felt a splitting headache reappearing. She wished she had some way to numb herself, but Jean had strictly forbidden her from ever buying drugs or alcohol. She couldn’t have her girlfriend too drunk or high to torment after all.
Feeling her body heat up from stress she kicked the blankets off and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes stung and she repeatedly hit her head with a closed fist. It didn’t help.

She looked at her nails, bitten down until it hurt, and let out a soft sigh. She had to go back to work tomorrow, but it was very hard to find the energy to even get up right now. It felt like there was a giant block of cement sitting on her chest.

Maybe after work, she should go talk to Jean. Carol was right in saying that the violence needed to stop. Wanda doubted Jean would listen to her, but she knew that maybe she could get Jean to change her mind if she offered her certain sexual favours. That was basically her only power in this place. She was not looking forward to it, it had been a long time since she had enjoyed sex. Thinking over her plans for the next day she fell asleep on top of her blankets quickly.

Mom? Mom! Billy’s voice echoed in her head, evergoing. It woke her up with a start. It was really early, maybe 5 am. Jean was asleep on the bed above her. Wanda could hear her even breathing. She liked Jean the best when she was asleep. She had had a weird dream about Westview again, but instead of everyone she loved being there, it was just Carol and other prisoners telling her to run. If only it was that easy.

Wanda squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers and decided getting up was better than lying there wallowing in her self-pity. The heaviness in her chest remained, but at least she would have something to do at work. It had been some time since she had been to work because of her injuries and she was sure Agatha had messed everything up by now.

Her muscles were still sore from being tied up by Jean for hours on end the other day, so it took her some strength to walk towards the kitchen. She loved her kitchen a lot. It made her forget for a while. She had a limited number of things to cook, but tried her best every day. And she had music.

Wanda plunged down the needle on her record player and let the kitchen be filled with soft tune from the 1950s. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sound for a while, the fact that no one else was around her and she had a moment of peace giving her a brief glimpse of happiness.

She glanced around the kitchen and noticed everything had been moved from its usual place. She was not a neat freak in the slightest, how could one be in prison. But she liked having some pretense of control and liked everything being where she could find it. She spent some time returning the kitchen to how it was, including several things being in places it definitely did not belong. It almost felt like Agatha had done that on purpose, and it annoyed her. After she put everything away, she noticed the floor was dirty. She tutted and filled a bucket with soap, tying up her hair with a strip of fabric while she waited for it to fill up.

Wanda found that working in the kitchen was her only semblance of true peace in incarcerated life. Sure she had to prepare the meals and serve over two-hundred inmates per day, but it was the closest thing she had to actually having time alone and a purpose. Even the days where Sylvie was assigned to help her weren’t that bad. That is why it was with disappointment that she simply ran out of things to do eventually on this day, meals to cook, ovens to clean, knives to wash. She’d reorganised Agatha’s tarnishing of the placement of things twice over until things looked positively spotless, or as spotless as they could be at least. It was now about 1 pm and her next task was far less enjoyable, mopping the cellblocks.

She made quick work of Cellblocks A and B, not having to deal with many other people since most were still in the mines at that time. She had one left to go, the dreaded Cellblock C, and, unfortunately for her, work for everyone else had now very much concluded. Why did she dread Cellblock C in particular? It was where Agatha lived. The only place less preferable to clean was Cellblock D, which she’d mercifully been exempt from cleaning by security given the fact that it was where most of Hydra dwelled.

Entering quietly with a bucket of water and a mop, she noted the particularly dirty nature of the floors and sighed. It seemed it would take longer to clean the place than she wanted. Thinking only that she wished to get the task done with as soon as possible, she straightened her hair tie and got to work.

Quickly the mop made circular motions along the grimy grounds, rinsing away at layers of dirt and dust. Wanda reflected on what she’d say to Jean precisely to fix her mistake, knowing it was nearly impossible to ever get her girlfriend to actually listen. She always needed to have two plans, what to say to Jean and what to say to The Phoenix because she never knew who would be in control at any given moment. It really was like she was dating two people, both probably well into the range of abusive, and she had to always guess which she may encounter. It was exhausting. She sometimes forgot just how tiring she found it to be but then it would weigh upon her like an anvil, or the ruins of Wundagore. Wanda was abruptly pulled from her thoughts as a familiar voice called: “Oh, Wandaaa.”

Wanda spun around to see Agatha Harkness stood against the wall, one knee bent back, while her right hand twirled a strand of the dark curly forest growing along her crotch. Her underwear were on the floor, a single band barely clinging around her right ankle, and jumpsuit cast aside. Wanda couldn’t help but blush bright crimson at the sight, and, deciding to not look, turned her back once more and resumed mopping.

Agatha spread her legs and brought her hand lower, pushing a finger between her already dripping pussy lips. Rubbing her clit with dramatically loud moans, she ran the tip of her finger back and forth in excited motions. Wanda couldn’t ignore the wet sloppy sounds, despite how much she wanted to.

Agatha’s fingers rubbed her clit faster and faster to the sight of Wanda's orange-clad arse. Her moans got louder too, now definitely audible to at least half her cellblock. Agatha’s juices ran against her fingers and dripped on to the recently-cleaned ground. Getting closer and closer as her hand stimulated her until Agatha climaxed with an exaggerated moan, intentionally loud just to make sure Wanda was truly uncomfortable. Breathily she leaned against the bars and smiled wickedly. “I think you missed a spot” she said with a laugh, gesturing with her foot to the new wet spot on the ground.

Wanda let out a curse in her mother tongue and slapped the wet mop down on the spot, staring daggers at Agatha as she cleaned. “Why do you keep flour in the fridge?” She asked angrily.

“Oh, is that not where it goes?” Agatha feigned ignorance, not bothering to step aside to make Wanda’s job easier.

“Why would it need to be cold..” Wanda countered. She lightly pushed Agatha’s shoulder, causing her to move. “You’re in the way.”

Agatha only chuckled, satisfied that she’d made Wanda clean up her cum. It was both a creepy and oddly creative way of making her least-favourite witch unhappy.

Stepping aside, Agatha picked up her underwear and got herself dressed, eyeing Wanda flirtatiously. She didn’t say anything else though while she watched Wanda finish mopping up the mess.

“Have a nice day, Agatha.” Wanda said eventually as she finished the job. She twirled around but quickly flicked her fingers unbeknownst to the other witch.

“Oh I’ll have a really nice day. Thank you for helping me get off.” Agatha replied tauntingly, thinking she’d won this round.

Wanda shrugged, not turning around. “Watch your step next time.”

“What did you say?” Agatha had not realised that her jumpsuit and underwear had come completely undone, leaving her to stand naked. When she went to bow down to pull them up, they tightened around her ankles impossibly, tripping her in the process. Because she had not expected it, she fell face down on the floor, bare ass up in the air, her nose making a satisfying crack on the floor and blood spraying out of it. Wanda’s laugh could be heard down the halls as she walked away.

As Wanda departed, work complete for the day, she figured there was now no better time than to test the waters of talking to Jean. The confrontation with Agatha had given her a much needed emotional boost and she felt that the coming conversation just might not be completely terrible. She returned to their cell but found Jean absent. There was one other place she probably would be, but Wanda really hoped she wouldn’t be there. Taking a short trip a few cells over, Wanda’s heart sank as her prediction was correct. Jean was currently laying down on a bed while Emma Frost sat on her chest, hand to Jean’s temple. They played a sort of strange game together, one only two powerful telepaths could do. When things became overbearing, Jean would visit Emma and partake in erotic mental constructs tailored to satisfy her deepest desires. Currently she was engaging in a passionate moment with Captain America.

Sensing someone outside their cell, Emma didn’t need to turn around to know who was present. “Have you come to clean my cell?” She asked haughtily.

“No. I want to talk to Jean.” Wanda said candidly.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Can you not see she is busy at the moment?”

Wanda knew what she was going to say was probably a very bad idea, but she felt particularly brave at the moment. “Wake her up.” she demanded.

Emma smirked and rose from her spot straddling Jean. She took her stance in the center of the room, commanding a presence in the narrow space. “Come here” she said, beckoning Wanda closer with a threatening undertone that made it clear the witch couldn’t object. Approaching the nervous looking Wanda with a self-confident grin on her fair face, she raised the tip of her index finger to Wanda’s chin and made her look up into her piercing ice blue eyes. In the most witheringly demeaning tone she asked: “Is your idiot brain being fucked by stupid?”

Wanda flinched. She stammered as she tried to formulate how to respond to that, if she was meant to at all. Emma Frost was close to Jean, closer than just about anyone else in the Sisterhood save for Mystique. Offending her was often worse than offending Jean herself.

“It’s not rhetorical. Answer me.” Emma pressed in a sickeningly calm voice.

“No. I-It’s not doing…that.” Wanda answered uncomfortably.

“Not doing what?” Emma mocked her accent, wanting her to say it out loud.

“No my idiot brain is not being fucked by stupid.” Wanda said angrily, feeling foolish. Emma always found ways to demean her, but that seemed to be a pretty recurring theme from a lot of people.

Emma paused, savouring the submissiveness she sparked. “Then what the fuck makes you think you can come to my cell and tell me what to do?” She smiled.

“I need to tell her something important.” Wanda tried to respond as calmly as she could.

Emma paused, looking Wanda over with a disinterested glare. No, it was more than just disinterest. It was disgust. There was such power in The Scarlet Witch but she was too weak to use any of it for anything real. “I know why you’re here, dear. I’m a telepath, remember?” Emma fired back antagonistically, although she didn’t actually know why Wanda was there quite yet. It took her longer than Jean to invade the mental walls of people. Once she understood she said: “This is important. What you’ve come to whine about is…how should I put this…entirely superfluous. Now I suggest you fuck off unless you’ve come to clean things for me.”

Wanda could feel her confidence faltering. She looked at Jean, who had her eyes closed and then looked back at Emma. “Can you just tell her when…when she comes back that I came by?”

“If I feel..feel like it” Emma shrugged, mocking her stutter. Defeated, Wanda nodded and left the room.

Feeling lost for what to do since she had finished her work and her only ‘friend’ in the prison was occupied, Wanda made her way over to the rec room. This room was often dominated by her with Jean’s help because she liked to watch her TV shows. Today, the TV was off. There were a few people scattered about, most of which immediately looked up as she entered the room.

Wanda had never been a popular girl, even as a kid. She was used to isolation. But that didn’t mean their stares of disapproval didn’t sting a little bit. She tried to smile at everyone as she went over to the board game cabinet. Maybe she could find a puzzle. Most of them had pieces missing, which was super frustrating, but at least it was something to do, alone.

All that was left in the cabinet was The Game of Life. Wanda sighed and got the game out. Maybe she could convince someone to play with her.

As she turned around, she felt like a high schooler on their first day at school, picking a spot to sit and eat lunch. Most people scowled at her and several of them even left the room. She felt pathetic as all the feasible people available to play disappeared, and she sat down at a table by herself. Getting out the board and the game pieces, she took a red car out, placing one adult female and one adult male pin inside, with two little boys in the backseat. She set it down at the start, but there was no way to play this game by herself, so she just drove the car around the board with her hand.

The scraping of the chair across from her made her jump and look up.
“Hey stranger.” Natasha’s voice sounded so familiar but yet so distant now. Wanda smiled carefully as the redhead sat down across from her. She had turned the chair around so the back of the chair was in the front and she leaned her arms on the back casually. “Playing with yourself?”

Wanda nodded shyly, missing the double entendre. “I guess no one likes The Game of Life.” She knew in reality the game wasn’t the problem, and knew that Nat probably knew that too.

“Well, it isn’t Monopoly, but it will do.” Natasha got the black car from the box and put it down at the Career Start tile.
“You’ll have to remove your family from the car, or it’s cheating.”

Wanda carefully removed the representation of Vision and her boys from the car, and put them back in the box. She then placed her car next to Nat’s and looked at her with big green eyes. Studying the redhead’s features from up close for the first time in a while, she noticed how pretty she looked, still. She flashed back to meeting the Black Widow for the first time as a young girl. Joining the Avengers with her and spending so much time together. They were probably one of the best times of Wanda’s life.

“You can start. You’re the youngest. I’ll be the bank.” Natasha said teasingly as she started sorting the fake paper money. She in turn checked Wanda’s face, noticing the remains of the injury she had suffered and the bags under her eyes from the general lack of sleep or happiness in the witch’s life.

She couldn’t help but still feel a sense of care for the girl, the same way she had when they first met. At the time, she had made it her goal to save Wanda from the life she had and hopefully give her a better one. Guess that didn’t turn out how she had hoped. She had watched from the sidelines as Wanda got roped in by Jean and everything that had happened since then. It was not really her place to care about someone from another gang, but given their history, it was hard not to. Not that she could do anything about it, but she had still kept an eye on Wanda where she could.

Wanda spun the wheel timidly, not actually believing her luck that someone wanted to play with her. She took the designated number of steps and did what the card said.

Not talking much, they just played the game. Wanda noticed that Natasha chose to get married and placed a small female peg next to her, while Wanda herself had placed a male one.

Both of them had a baby and continued playing. The silence was not awkward, but rather comforting.

Her curiosity peaked at the choice of partner in the game, Wanda eventually asked. “So, are you seeing anyone?” It was an absurd question to ask in the situation they were in, but the witch’s social awkwardness had gotten the better of her and she wanted to know what Natasha was up to.

Nat let out a dry chuckle at the innocence of the question. “As in officially?” She had no idea how to explain to Wanda that she was basically the leader of one of the prison’s biggest harems, without feeling like it was something inappropriate to say.

“I guess.” Wanda shrugged.

“No. Not really.” Natasha flashed back to being eaten out not an hour ago and shuddered uncomfortably. “I don’t think this is the right place for me, dating wise.”

Biting her lip, Wanda nodded. “Yeah, makes sense.” She had always assumed Natasha preferred the company of men, but the choice of partner had confused her.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered over the fading black eye and returned. “You and Jean still going strong?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The words left Wanda’s mouth before she could help it. She quickly corrected herself. “She takes care of me. That’s all I ask.”

Not wanting to meddle, Natasha nodded. “I’d hope so.”

Not much later, the game had finished. Both women counted their fortunes and it turned out Wanda had won the game by a large margin.

“Congrats, Wands.” Nat winked, helping her put the game away. “We should play again sometime. ‘It was fun.”

Unconsciously, Wanda blushed and nodded. As she put the game back into the cabinet, Nat waved to her and disappeared quickly. Wanda remained seated at the table, reeling from this weird, kind of happy moment she just had.

“You had something important you wanted to tell me?” The Phoenix’s voice clawed in Wanda’s head, giving her a terrible headache.

Wanda froze and felt an icy feeling of dread clench her stomach. She turned around to face Jean, who was sitting on top of another table. She had no idea how long she had been there, having completely lost herself in the game and Natasha’s company. She felt caught.

The Phoenix dragged its burning talons through Wanda’s memory, ripping at strands of thought and emotion. Its beak caught the strand of that moment and it felt everything Wanda had felt during the game with Nat. Every skipped heartbeat, every nervous twitch, every ounce of happiness was now shared by them both. Its presence seemed to grow insurmountable the angrier it grew. Jean’s body seemed to shake from The Phoenix’s unmatched wrath. Wanda knew that her goddess would have no mercy in its punishment for her…

Chapter Text

——————————————————————————————————————————

Gather sisters fire, water, earth and air. Darkest hour wake thy power, earthly and divine. Burn and brew with coven true and glory shall be thine.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The throne of jagged, carven stone loomed high above the pit, and lo, upon it sat the empress of sorrow, the sovereign of damnation, the Goblin Queen herself. Eyes afire with a pale white, she ruled with an ever-cruel smirk upon her fair face. This was Madelyn Pryor, and the hellish dimension around her was Limbo.

The echoes of chains and distant screams carried across the four infernal winds that blew eternal, whipping at the poor unfortunate souls who’d been damned to this place. It was Hell in everything but name, a world of only limitless pain and pleasure. Such sights as those seen could not be done justice in mere words.

Brought forth by demons with a heavy collar around her neck came stumbling a woman whose name was once Victoria Murdock, but that seemed a distant memory. Time here didn’t work like it had back on Earth. Here a century could be minutes, and minutes could feel like eons. She’d once been a low-life criminal who’d made a pact with a demon for the promise of a successful career unmatched…for ten years but there was no clause for preventing accidentally poisoning oneself. A serial asbestos poisoner, she ironically died of idiopathic mesothelioma. She learned the hard way what happened after those ten years expired when the first red-hot brand was stamped against her rear by an imp.

“Please have mercy!” Victoria screamed to the queen sitting high above. A new punishment awaited her, set forth by Madelyn herself. “I-I’m straight! You can’t do this to me! Please! Anything else!”

Madelyn only laughed, a wicked cackle that boomed all across her kingdom. Pleading had never swayed her before.

“I-I can’t do it!” Victoria continued sputtering for mercy, but mercy she wouldn’t receive. Madelyn flicked her wrist and from her index finger shot forth a flame. “Maybe you should have thought of that before selling your soul” she shrugged. “Consider this before I send you to your new fate, you are my slave and, now that you'll be servicing an inmate, someone’s bitch. Do enjoy yourself now…”

A screaming Victoria was grabbed by winged demons and dragged away where she’d spend the foreseeable future pleasuring a convict.

—————————————————————

“So like who are we meeting again?” Kitty Pryde asked as she followed behind Rogue through the crowded cellblock. A storm was brewing that night which, according to the rumours, Warden Val feared would be powerful enough to cause a power outage, plunging the prison into a possible mass riot. Obviously not wanting a prison full of angry super-powered criminals to deal with, she had resolved to simply place the entire penitentiary under lockdown until the storm had passed and the systems could reliably be kept online. That meant that for the next however many hours, the prisoners would be sealed in whatever cell they were in before the lockdown came into effect. Rogue and Kitty were currently on their way, various comforts in hand, to meet with people who, for all Kitty knew, could very well be incarcerated for murder, or worse.

“A couple of people I know, why?” Rogue replied in her usual solemn Southern tone, although there was a slight hint of resentment in her voice. The past week since Kitty arrived had been…difficult to say the least. She’d finally reconnected with someone she could touch only to fuck everything up, worst of all she fucked it up by doing something vulnerable like randomly kissing her. They’d agreed not to talk about the kiss and Rogue wasn’t even sure if Kitty had thought much of it since, a thought she found agonising in the unpleasant way. Things were definitely awkward as it stood right now.

Already the beginning barrage of rain pattered along the metallic walls of The Raft as Kitty further asked: “So, like your friends?”

“No” Rogue sternly replied with clear disgust at the notion. “I joined a coven”
Kitty giggled and nodded, expecting an answer like that. “I mean to be like totally fair, that’s like so your version of having friends, y’know?”

Rogue shot her a threatening glare that half looked like she wanted to murder her, her form of endearment. “I jus’ thought they seemed intriguing’. You know I find most friendships to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation”

“Ok…” Kitty said, not buying that at all. She knew pretty well that thanks to Rogue’s isolating abilities she had very strange standards for what classified personal connection. “So how long have you been a part of a coven?”

“Two months, three weeks, and four days.” Rogue answered precisely as the rainfall grew louder. She suddenly stopped as Illyana Resputina passed by them taking a lighter from Rogue’s pile of amenities before either of them could react.
“Thanks! Never know when I could need this” Illyana grinned as she playfully flipped the lighter in her hand and held it up to show what she had taken. Her hands were free, save for a small purple dragon puppet, because she currently had Danielle Moonstar carrying all of her stuff.

“Could you just like please give her that back.” Kitty pleaded, really not wanting to spend lockdown by herself (or worse, with Illyana) while Rogue was in solitary confinement for attacking Illyana.

“Why?” Illyana brattily asked while challenging Rogue with her eyes. “Can’t share? Maybe I will give it back to you in the morning.”

Rogue set down her things and then silently approached Illyana, removing an orange glove. The threat was clear. Just one touch and her obnoxious blonde cellmate would spend the night in the infirmary. “Hand it over or I’ll shove that stupid purple dragon puppet of yours where the sun don’t shine.”

Illyana stepped back slightly in apprehension before laughing in her face. “Touch him and Jean punishes you.” Not quite the response Rogue had hoped for.

Rogue scowled, knowing that there was little counter to that. “Jus’ give it back.” she said irritably, a bit deflated that her threat was so easily seen-through.

“Ok. Two packs of cigarettes now or no deal.” Illyana bargained.

“Two packs for a lighter? That sure seems fair.” Rogue said sardonically. “I don’t even have two packs right now.”

Illyana smirked. “I guess you don’t want it that bad then…”

“Here just take it.” Kitty groaned as she unexpectedly produced from the pillow in her arms two packs of cigarettes. “Now can you like leave us alone?”

Illyana tossed the lighter onto the blanket in Rogue’s arms and then took the price. “See you two tomorrow” she said cheerfully as she departed with Moonstar.

“I kinda feel like we um just got robbed.” Kitty stated as Rogue and herself both watched their bully leave.

Rogue imagined torturing Illyana in the most slow and painful methods imaginable. “That’s because we were”

—————————————————————

Kate Bishop wasn’t really sure how Yelena had managed to convince her to join in spending lockdown in Felicia Hardy’s cell. She was unaware they even knew of each other so when Yelena got an early notice of the oncoming storm and suggested they spend it with a sadistic cat burglar instead of her sister, she was surprised to say the least. In fact, Yelena had made it very clear she preferred this plan over spending a “boring” night with Nat and allied gang leaders discussing important matters of prison politics. Kate loved sleepovers usually, but she wasn’t so sure about this one.

Grabbing a short list of requested items (cigarettes, drinks, blankets, pillows, etc) the girls made their way over to Cellblock C for their little sleepover. To literally no one’s surprise, upon arriving at Felicia’s cell they found her half undressed cuddling with Liz Allan while MJ1 (Mary Jane Watson) massaged her. Gwen Stacy was currently getting high while sitting on the toilet and MJ2 (Michelle Jones) was resting against the wall. What was a surprise was Jessica Jones sitting on the top bunk, not present by her own volition but by request of Vanessa Fisk to assure Felicia wasn’t getting too close to the Widows. Kate wasn’t sure what she was doing there, but from the looks of it she was already a drink too many deep into being drunk. The archer felt a little worried about her state.

The cell door locked behind Kate and Yelena and, almost right on cue, the first booming echo of thunder crashed, harkening the arrival of the night’s storm. “Hi.” Kate said awkward to the unknown women. Yelena put their stuff down and they both got situated.

Kate looked at Felicia and awkwardly smiled. Looking to make a great first impression, she fixated on something to compliment. What stood out most was the expert thief’s brilliantly platinum blonde hair, so light that it was almost pure white. “I love your hair!” Kate exclaimed, getting an appreciative smirk from Felicia. A smirk which fell when Kate asked: “how’d you get hair dye?”

“It’s natural.” Yelena coughed under her breath.

Kate’s eyes went wide. “What?” she softly asked, words laced with apprehension.
“That is her natural hair colour.” Yelena very slightly elaborated.

Kate bit her lip and gave a completely mortified look to the displeased Felicia. “Oh…so…cool” the archer said with an anxious laugh. “I’m not about to die of embarrassment. I just- It…wow..uh shut up, Kate”

Despite the awkward introduction, the sleepover was going about as well as one could in prison, with Kate being dragged into a high stakes poker game with Felicia and Yelena (high stakes in this case being over packs of cigarettes). Jessica had even played a round and won before returning to her self-designated isolation. The night was going well and a buzz was steadily starting to build by the time one of the hosts suggested playing Truth or Dare. Yelena had scoffed at this, finding it rather childish, but Kate had gotten very excited.

“Okay, Yelena. Truth or Dare?” Kate asked, snuggling deeper into her makeshift bed gleefully.

“I do not want to play this stupid game.” Yelena rolled her eyes.

“Aw…puh-lease?” Kate begged ever bit as childishly as it reads.

“Fine. Truth.” The blonde assassin sighed and took a big swig of her drink.

“Reveal the details of your first kiss.” Kate said, her eyes shining with excitement.

Yelena led out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Ha.”

“You have to answer!” Michelle joined in. The other women had also joined the conversation, except for Jessica, who was turned with her back towards them on her bunk.

Clicking her tongue, Yelena started. “Well, I never had much interest in romance. I also did not have much time, as I was trained as an assassin and a spy since I was a young, young child.” She grimaced at the memory. “Once upon a time I was out on a mission in West Europe. I believe it was Paris.”

“Ooo, romantic!” Kate whispered.

“Well, there was this guy. He thought I looked cool, I guess. We hung out a lot, I was young and it was something different. He had a really intense French accent and would buy me breakfast.”

“What was his name?” Felicia asked.

“Philip.” Yelena answered with dead eyes.

“And you kissed him?” Kate said, swooning at the romance of it all.

“Oh, no. He was my target.” Yelena smirked. “I kissed his sister.”

“Huh!?” Both Kate and Michelle exclaimed.

“At his funeral.” Yelena smiled shyly as the group was both stunned and impressed at her plot twist. They all laughed and continued the game.

Things started to settle and everyone had taken their spots. Wrapped up tight in their blankets as the heating system fluctuated on whether or not it wanted to work, the prisoners passed around a bottle of smuggled in vodka and conversed over all manner of things. Stories from in prison and out.

—————————————————————

Rogue and Kitty arrived at their destination, hosted by the gothic Japanese-American Nico Minoru and perfect plastic blonde popular girl Karolina Dean. Friends since childhood, they both came from very well-off families which harboured a dark secret in connection to a cult (or in Karolina’s case, being the daughter of the cult leader). Alongside a few others, Nico and Karolina ran away from home in their teenage years and formed The Runaways. As The Runaways they slipped further and further outside the law until eventually they popped up on SWORD’s radar and they were hunted down and arrested.

When Rogue and Kitty arrived they found Nico and Karolina making out on the bottom bunk, Karolina’s hand slipping down the front of Nico’s jumpsuit.

“Am I interrupting something?” Rogue asked them sarcastically, startling them.

Both quickly got up, tried to straighten their jumpsuits, and then greeted their guests. “Sorry about that. We just got lost in the moment. You know how it is.” Karolina apologised as she pulled the cell door open and bid Rogue and Kitty enter. Nico coughed at ‘you know how it is.’ Karolina had a sudden startled look in her bright blue eyes and said: “Oh…sorry”

“It’s fine, but make that mistake again and it will be the last one you make.” Rogue playfully threatened, making Nico let out a maniacal sounding cackle.

Karolina chuckled. “Last mistake ever? Sounds pretty sweet to me.”

“Who’s she?” Karolina asked, pointing at Kitty while twirling a strand of her golden hair.

“Uh hi. I’m Kitty.” she introduced herself shyly.

“Yes. She’s with me.” Rogue nodded.

“Wow you’re actually dating someone?” Karolina asked in astonishment.

“What? Oh no we’re NOT dating!” Kitty exclaimed, not seeing how Rogue’s flat expression briefly turned to one of the deepest hurt. She was still strongly under the impression that there really was nothing more to the kiss when they reunited. Sure it was a kiss that involved one of them being naked, but that was just a coincidence.

“Cool! It’s great to meet you!” Karolina beamed, moving on the topic without pause. “I knew a Kitty well, actually her name was Kat which if you think about it is super fitting because she actually was a cat, like the animal. Well I guess humans are animals, but It’s kind of a really lazy name for a cat to be named Kat, don’t you think?”

“Yeah totally” Kitty nodded, not sure she even understood a word of what the blonde woman just said for she talked very fast. She wondered just how high she must be.
Nico nodded. “What she means to say is that her name is Karolina, I’m Nico. Welcome to our cell.”

“Thank you for having us.” Kitty said earnestly, as if they had been invited over for a pot-luck in the neighborhood. “Right, Rogue?”

Rogue set down her things and said a dismissive “thank you.” Her mind still wasn’t off Kitty’s reaction to the thought that they could be dating. Her palms were sweating slightly inside her gloves.

“So what are you in for, Kitty?” Nico asked as Karolina helped the guests put down their bedding.

“It’s really complicated but um I was like totally innocent but got arrested for like formerly being an X-Men member.” Kitty relayed the shortest possible version of her story, not wanting to kill the mood or be reminded of why she was in prison in the first place.

“Punk rock! Ok, rebel.” Nico smirked. Kitty felt reassured by how enthusiastic about her crime Nico seemed.

—————————————————————

“…and then I shot a trick arrow that…” Kate’s story suddenly was interrupted by the sound of something loudly shutting off. The Raft was now bathed in the dull red light of the backup generator, leaving only the shadowy outlines of the women around Kate visible. Sighs and curses of annoyance echoed all down the cell block as the locked in women were now left without any ability to pass the time playing games or reading.

“Spooky…Have any ghost stories?” Yelena asked sarcastically while Kate rested her head on her shoulder comfortably.

Felicia paused for a moment. “…Well there’s always cell #237 in Cellblock D. This was a little before my time here, but apparently belonged to some unfortunate mutant bitch who must have done something to really piss the guards off because they housed her in the middle of Hydra territory. Obviously not the best place for a mutie…”

“It’s mutant actually” Michelle corrected from her corner.

Felicia stared daggers at her, obviously not enthused by someone interrupting her story. Taking a deep breath to calm down from the interupption, she asked “What was that?”

“Nothing” Michelle mumbled, not wanting to be punished for talking back again.

Felicia smirked. “That’s what I thought. Thanks for the disruption, babe” she said passive aggressively. “Returning to the story, one night some of her neighbours had had enough of a mutant daring to be in their cellblock…so they snuck into her cell, pinned her against the wall, and…” Felicia brought a finger to her throat and made a grim cutting motion while gagging “slick slit her throat right open. Guards found her body the next morning lying in a pool of her own blood. Heard it took a solid week to get rid of it all. A month to get the smell to go away”

“That’s disgusting” Mary Jane briefly interrupted, horrified enough by the story that she had stopped taking a drag out of the joint she and Gwen were sharing.

“A few of the girls who’ve stayed there since have said they experience some weird shit…the smell of blood, feeling of being watched, strange shadows, and whispers. Just your usual ghost stuff. Well except for…” Felicia paused for dramatic effect

“E-Except for?” Kate stuttered, completely engulfed in the tale.
Felicia smirked “This part was when I first got here so maybe I’m missing a few details, but I heard that a member of Hydra was given that cell. Some say she was one of the mutant’s killers but who fucking knows. Two days in, get this, she was found with her throat slit. Guards never found out who killed her or even found the shiv used. Cameras facing that cell also just went offline in the thirty minutes she died so that wasn’t any help”

Kate was staring with eyes wide in shock at Felicia’s story, clearly a little shaken up by it. She wasn’t sure whether she should be more scared of the paranormal part or the idea of someone bursting into her cell and killing her. Felicia’s harem were all pretty disturbed too, minus Michelle who respected the grim poetic nature of the whole thing.

Yelena wasn’t quite as convinced. Lighting her second hard won cigarette of the night and taking a long slow drag she spoke: “I have been here longer. No one was killed in that cell, Felicia. I would definitely remember a mystery shivving.”

Felicia rolled her eyes “Oh well aren’t you a bundle of fun.” she purred.

“Well yeah I-I knew that was fake. Ghosts are definitely not real.” Kate tried to play her fear off. In all fairness, The Raft housed aliens, gods, werewolves, witches, and vampires. Ghosts wouldn’t be too weird at this point.

“Good for you” Felicia replied just a little condescendingly, clearly not buying it.

—————————————————————

Rogue and Karolina finished setting down two temporary beds for the night, careful not to touch during the process. Having completed the task, Rogue turned and asked: “So what exactly are we doin’ tonight anyways?” They’d tampered with a few incantations Nico was familiar with, but nothing particularly impressive beyond changing their eye colour.

“Well I may or may not have stolen this off Agatha Harkness when I was mopping Cellblock C.” Nico reached under her pillow and then excitedly held up a gnarled old tome, tapping her narrow bony fingers and dark black nails on its leathery cover. The worn-down bindings and decayed spine made the thing look ancient and like it could fall apart any minute.

Rogue looked at the book with visible intrigue. “How did she manage to get that in here?” she asked, far more concerned with how the Last Witch of Salem had managed to get the spellbook smuggled in than what the possible repercussions of stealing from such a high-level witch may be.

“Who cares. All that matters is that we have it now.” Karolina said in a distant tone while staring intently at the growing storm out the window.

Nico nodded in agreement. “Perhaps tonight he'll listen to us at last.”

“Who?” Kitty asked curiously, feeling very out of her element around Rogue’s mystic-minded friends but completely going along with it. At the very least it was a vibe.

“Chthon.” Nico answered as if that would mean anything to her.

“Bless you” Kitty looked more than a little perplexed. “Like what’s that? Is that like God or something?”

“No. Man invented God. He is far older than that...” Rogue said dramatically, the flickering of the prison’s failing power and a flash of lightning truly setting the mood.

“So like you guys worship the devil?” Kitty asked. She was not into religion at all.

Karolina had a mad look in her eye as she finally was the one to explain in her own excited way: “No. It's like God and the Devil. I mean, it's everything. It's the trees, it's the ground, it's the rocks, it's the moon... it's everything. If God and the Devil were playing football, Chthon would be the stadium that they played on. It would be the sun that shone down on them.”

“Cool. Cool” Kitty nodded as if that made the slightest semblance of sense. She was really wondering what exactly Karolina was on.

—————————————————————
The young witches were not the only coven to convene in this solemn tempest, for in the darkened cell of Agatha Harkness a group of The Raft’s most powerful sorceresses (bar Wanda Maximoff for obvious reasons) were plotting. The wrathful storm which burned and brewed beyond the prison was not the only force which weakened security, as tonight was a very special night in which the mystical boundaries set around the facility by Doctor Strange were weakened by the full moon. Key word: weakened – but not absent. If one understood their spellcraft well, and Agatha was doubtlessly an expert, they could find small cracks in the foundation that, if exploited right, could be enough to escape. There was only one issue for the witch, to do so would require an immense amount of mystical power (the strength of a coven). Lacking a better alternative, Agatha had assembled her uneasy coven from only the finest of witches.

First to arrive (because they shared a cell) was Morgan le Fay, an ambitious witch who truly put the word ‘legend’ in ‘legendary.’ One hardly needs an introduction to someone so fabled, but we might as well. Hailing from the 7th century, she was a witch with power unmatched whose bid against her half-brother Arthur Pendragon for the throne of Camelot was as bloody as it was unceasing. Aided by ancient Celtic magic and the wicked influence of the Darkhold, she rained hell upon mediaeval Britain until, on the eve of the Battle of Camlann (in which – backed by an army – she surely would have won), the wizard Merlin found a way to remove her from the board for a time. She was thrust into a realm beyond time and space. A place that wouldn’t hold her forever, but could assure that she emerged in a time long past the reign of Arthur. By the time she escaped she was fifteen-hundred years late to the battle.

The raven-haired would-be-queen now endured the modern age as not a royal but a convict (It seems attempting to level a portion of London has consequences). Her time behind bars had certainly proved…intriguing. Long gone were the days of the solitude of her private chamber, countless nights spent plotting fratricide and communing with the fae. In its stead she now shared a cramped cell with Agatha Harkness, whose long nightly sessions of loudly fingering herself to thoughts of dominating the Scarlet Witch left a work-weary Morgan little silence to fall asleep. The scandalous emerald dresses that tempted the so-call righteous Morgan so adored were replaced with a far more ghastly orange jumpsuit (although she still did wear them in a way that exposed her flesh).

Next came Satana Hellstrom. She was just a normal girl from Massacheusets with a loving family and an annoying older brother…oh and she was the daughter of Satan (or a demon who called himself that anyways). You may remember her from the last Halloween chapter in which she attempted to kill Elsa Bloodstone. In the time since she hadn’t changed her ways but she did want an out.

Agatha had invited two other witches who had spent most of their time hiding away from their powers and pretending to be anything but ordinary, Jeniffer Kale and Lilia Calderu. They had both been caught for non-magic crimes but the fact they possessed magical abilities was an instant ticket to The Raft. So be the way of a witch. Agatha had little faith in them, but they seemed innocent enough to potentially be sacrificed. Plus, Jen was known for being really good at making potions and Lilia was batshit crazy, something Agatha could always appreciate in a woman.

Absent from the group was a sixth, a component they needed to complete their group. Generally a coven of four was enough, but the spell planned required a lot more power. An invitation had been sent to several witches, and, of those who didn’t outright refuse, none seemed to show themselves. A delusional part of Agatha hoped Wanda would show up, but even she knew that that was too good to be true. She was holding out hope that a last minute arrival would come, but the other two were quickly growing impatient.

The first dispute, presenting itself after only four minutes of the group being together, was a nice and easy one: ethics…well as ethical as anyone who would work with Agatha could be. It started when Jennifer asked what exactly everyone was planning on doing after getting out just to make conversation.

Immediate to respond, Agatha questioned: “Why does that matter? Look you want out, I want out, we all want out. We’ll part ways as soon as this is done and we can forget we ever knew each other! I definitely plan on forgetting I knew any of you the minute I set foot on dry land”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “I feel like some of us have very different plans. We should at least know if someone is planning on world-destruction when they get out.” She wasn’t looking forward to having to assume a new identity, but the prospect wasn’t bad enough to make the end of the world preferable.

Morgan scoffed. “I merely want to take what is rightfully mine. When I am free I shall take my crown at last and then find my dear brother’s corpse to adorn my throne room. Rest assured, I care not for matters of the rest of the world”

“Oh you know, the usual stuff any girl would want after getting out of prison. Beachside vacation, drinking, parties, some mild human sacrifice.” Satana smirked.

“That sounds like a plan!” Agatha said with fake enthusiasm. She just had to endure this alliance for the night.

Lilia said nothing but clearly was questioning the company she now kept in a bid for freedom.
With that cleared, the wait for the last arrival was beginning to weigh heavier on the room.

“Why did you not just summon the Scarlet Witch? Such delicious power is wasted as Jean’s slave.” Satana questioned with tedium in her tone.

Agatha took offense to the very idea. “Yes, invite the one person whose fault it is that I’m even in this situation. Great idea!” She chose not to relay that she had been so desperate to work with Wanda again that she was the first one she had invited.

“She would be powerful enough to assure our escape but whatever.” Satana rolled her eyes.

“Also aren’t you the one to blame for you being here?” Jennifer chimed in.

Agatha gave Jennifer a death stare. “I would have invited anyone but you. Unfortunately you’re the best potion maker this cesspit can offer.”

“What of the Goddess of Death?” Morgan asked, knowing the Wanda topic would prove fruitless. Plus she had an affinity for Hela that only a bloodthirsty woman who plotted fratricide could understand.

“She’s a no show. Apparently shoving her fist up the butts of scared new girls is more interesting than escaping.” Agatha replied bitterly.

Satana bit her lip at the very idea. Succubi were hardly good at focusing when anything tied to sexual activity came up. “That does sound quite tempting…”

“Focus!” Agatha snapped. “If we have to we’ll do this with just the five of us, but we really need a sixth.”

“She’s Death!” Lilia exclaimed for seemingly no reason, receiving perplexed looks from everyone. She had a habit of saying things that didn’t make sense and then not knowing she’d said it.

The storm was growing outside…the sixth needed to arrive soon. And arrive they did, although not in a way anyone expected. For in the darkest corner of the cell an arm began to emerge, shifting and pulling at the wall like it was paper-thin material. Whatever was coming was trying to claw out…

“By the gods!” Morgan exclaimed.

“What the fuck” Jen added.

The emerging being had now breached reality, bony fingers now pushed into the physical realm. Then came a head, long dark hair concealing what Morgan assumed surely must be a ghastly face. The newcomer’s bones bent and snapped, joints cracking into place in rapid succession. The more it straightened, the more grotesque she appeared. Her limbs spun in directions impossibly painful to watch and yet she made no indication that any of it was unusual or painful. Up her crooked spine the transformation contorted and creaked, and then through her bent-backwards feet. There was no real pattern to what would be fixed next. It ceased when her neck twisted into place and she looked up, no longer mangled, in fact, looking quite ordinary. Smiling madly, she casually spoke: “Hey, guys, what’s up? I’m Rio.”

“No! You’re not joining us!” Agatha immediately protested, looking just about ready to re-mangle the newcomer.

“Come on, it wasn’t easy breaking into a supermax prison…well actually it kinda was. But you need a green witch, I was in the neighbourhood…oh and for you, m’lady…” she produced a black bouquet from thin-air and handed it to Agatha…who promptly threw it aside.

“You’re a green witch?” Lilia questioned, doubtful that the woman before her was someone in-tune with nature.

Rio shrugged, “Well less a green witch and more like…The Green Witch…” her smooth voice contorted into something deep and wicked before returning to its natural pitch “…but whatever. Love the matching outfits. Should I join in?”

“Thou needeth not to” Morgan replied.

Rio nodded in agreement before saying: “Yeah I’m just gonna change clothes.”
Sauntering over, Rio gracefully lifted a spare jumpsuit from the bottom bunk that surely hadn’t been there just moments prior and she began undressing in a striptease. Back turned to the coven, she undid her black cloak first and then the rest of her clothing. It was not really that surprising that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Morgan had the manners to gaze elsewhere, whilst Satana viewed lustfully. Jennifer merely rolled her eyes and Lilia crossed her arms in annoyance. Agatha watched as Rio turned and gave a flirtatious look, confidently showing off the front of her body. Immediately Agatha’s gaze fell down below Rio’s waist before, committed to being upset, she darted her eyes away. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you needed a sixth.” Rio smirked, enjoying being intentionally vague. “I came.” She wriggled her eyebrows at Agatha with the double entendre.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Agatha and Rio obviously had history, but what was going on exactly demanded at least some answers.

“So, how do you know each other?” Satana questioned, leaning on one arm and giving Rio a grin.

“It’s a long story.” Agatha and Rio said at the same time, although in starkly different tones.
Rio slipped into her orange jumpsuit, not wearing anything underneath it once more. Satana gave a disappointed sigh at the conclusion of a show, but was amused by the sight of Rio cuddling up close to Agatha. An amusement Agatha evidently didn’t share as she froze and nudged Rio off.

“...Soooo I assume you have a spellbook. Shall we pull it out and get started?” Rio asked with a mischievous grin that dripped with a sense of I-know-something-you-don’t-know.

“Of course I have the book It’s right here…” Agatha reached her hand under her bed and then stopped. It was gone. “Where is it?!” she seethed.

—————————————————————

“Looked through the book yet?” Rogue asked as she got on her makeshift bed and cozied herself under her thin prison-issued blanket as if it was comfortable.

“Just the first few pages. Everything so far appears to be in Latin.” Nico said, flipping through the tome and revealing a section of the book to her guests. On the right page was written a long wall of Latin text with various unfamiliar runes carved in dark red besides them. The left page was an illustration of a naked woman with long demonic horns backed by sinister flames towering over a circle of four spiked points.

“Woah her titties are out.” Karolina chuckled, pointing at the page and looking back and forth at the others as if to make sure they were seeing it.

Nico paused. “You said that the first time, dear.”

“Did I? I forget” Karolina grinned just as the power went out again, plunging everything into pitch-blackness for a moment before being illuminated again. When the power was back on she was inexplicably sitting next to a circle of four unlit black candles. “Did you remember to get the lighter?” she asked Rogue.

“Of course.” Rogue responded, handing over the small thing Kitty had lost an absurd amount over. “Nearly was robbed off us by Illyana.”

“How did you get it back?” Nico questioned. It seemed every time the coven met Illyana had stolen something off Rogue, but this was the first time she’d actually gotten anything back from her.

“I had to like give up two packs of cigarettes for it. I mean I don’t smoke but y’know still.” Kitty explained, clearly still bitter about the entire ordeal. “It’s just like so totally ironic that she thinks she can just take whatever she wants. Y'know, on my first night I accidentally touched her dragon puppet and she like threatened to shove my face down the toilet.”

“That’s…creative” Nico said with visible disgust.

“Well at least she didn’t actually do it. That would have been unpleasant.” Karolina giggled in a spaced-out tone.

Kitty cringed, anxiously playing with her jumpsuit. Clearly something was on her mind. “Yeah…about that…she still did it anyways.” she replied awkwardly. She ranked the experience pretty high up there on the long list of traumatic things from just her first week of incarceration. She decided it was easily in the top twenty things from prison that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Nico’s eyes went wide: “Really?”

“Really.” Kitty answered regretfully. They all turned back to the book,.

—————————————————————

Having set up Illyana’s things, Danielle Moonstar cuddled up next to her lycanthropic Scottish girlfriend, Rahne Sinclair. “Great, so while everyone else is getting to spend lockdown in their cell of choice we get to be with…her.” Dani whispered. They had a cell assigned to just themselves but rarely was it truly just the two of them because Illyana popped in any time that she could, and always at the most inopportune moments.

“Yeah but how is that different from most of the time?” Rahne whispered back.

Dani paused. “Well she doesn’t sleep in the same cell as us…usually.” They both looked at Illyana who was currently on the bottom bunk (Rahne’s bed) reading a book.

Dani turned back to Rahne with clear apprehension. “So about what happened in the showers…”

“You mean when we almost…” Rahne blushed.

Dani fidgeted uncomfortably. “Almost were together for the first time. Yeah I mean that.”

They’d been together for awhile but hadn’t ever taken the next step in their relationship. Not due to a lack of trying mind you. Their intimacy issue was solely because Illyana wouldn’t let them. It had been hard on the both of them, a fact that only made Illyana more set on never letting them.

Rahne thought for a moment. “Maybe we could try again next time Illyana is in the hole?”

“Because that’s happened never.” Dani sighed.

“What if we try again when she falls asleep?” Rahne desperately suggested. “I can be quiet I think.”

Dani looked at her, knowing that she absolutely couldn’t do that. “Yeah if I gag you maybe. Actually…”

But before they could further explore that idea, their conversation was interrupted. “I’m bored.” Illyana whined, tossing the book aside and rolling around to see her two pets.

“I’m sorry?” Dani said, not really sure what to say but not liking where this was probably going.

“Clothes off. Now.” Illyana snapped her fingers.

Rahne nervously suggested: “Maybe we could play a game instead?”

“Oh yeah that sounds fun.” Illyana nodded. “I have a game. It’s called do what I fucking tell you to or I shove that book up your ass. Can you guess the rules?”

“I-I think I can guess.” Dani stammered.

“Really? Surprised you could figure it out. Stand up. Turn around, losers.” Illyana moved her finger in a spinning motion. They both wearily did as told, rising to a stand and miserably turning to face the wall. Illyana sat up, invested. “Good girls. I will repeat this only one time, clothes off.”

Dani and Rahne fumbled with the zippers of their jumpsuits and both hesitantly lowered them as far as they would go, giving each other a look of support before they endured whatever game Illyana had planned for them. Simultaneously their uniforms dropped to the ground, leaving them in nothing but their prison-issued underwear.

Dani couldn’t stop herself from turning around to see what Illyana was doing while they undressed. She looked back to see her bully brandishing a stick of deodorant, seeing if it would be a viable tool of pegging torment. The poor girl’s butt clenched at the thought of the object being shoved up her rear by her never-gentle prison mommy.

Illyana caught Dani’s fearful gaze and smirked. “Oh you think I will use this now? Don’t worry I’m just preparing it for later…maybe.” Dani found that answer to somehow be even worse than if she'd just said she would use it now.

“Do werewolves howl at the moon?” Illyana abruptly asked.

Rahne turned around to look now. “What?”

“I asked if werewolves howl at the moon” Illyana repeated.

“Uh no, why do you ask?” Rahne asked, knowing she wouldn’t enjoy the answer.

Illyana rolled her eyes like somehow Rahne was dumb for not understanding her weird nonsensical sense of humour. “Get on your knees and start licking Dani’s ass.”

Rahne paused. “Oh…moon, I-I get it.”

“Then do it.” Illyana sighed. “Oh wait no new idea, bend over first…”

Rahne whined but did as told, not liking what could possibly be coming. Right on cue Illyana stepped behind her and shoved the stick of deodorant up her bum with a laugh, forcing a pathetic pained squeal out of the werewolf. She sounded like a wounded dog as Illyana shoved the object deeper.

Dani cringed at the sight of Rahne being terrorised by the blonde mutant. Although every bit of her wanted to be quiet and avoid attention, she pleaded: “Do it to me instead…please”

Illyana stopped for a moment and looked at Dani. “How sweet. Hear that Lockheed? What’s that?” Illyana raised her dragon puppet up to her ear as if to hear what he had to say. “He says shut up and let me play with your girlfriend!”

Dani made no further attempt to bargain. She knew it only would have ended with them both being pegged…if that wasn’t in the cards already. Besides, how do you argue with a grown woman talking to a puppet? Illyana, satisfied with Dani’s silence, returned to her task.

The bully relished each and every little gasp Rahne made, trying to take deep breaths through her complete discomfort. It would have hurt a lot more once, but just today alone the wolf had one object or another shoved up her round bum by Illyana thrice.

At last the deodorant was as far as it could go without doing any real damage and Illyana watched the pained movements Rahne took as she tried to assume the kneeling position. She loved how Rahne’s round rear twitched. “What’s wrong, puppy? Does that hurt?”

Rahne gave a groan in response which upset her cruel bully. “Answer. The. Question.” Illyana demanded

“Yes! Yes it hurts!” Rahne snapped.

Illyana grinned again. “Good. Now quit being such a whiny loser and kiss your girlfriend.”
Rahne finished lowering herself down to her knees and then pressed her lips against Dani’s rear, eliciting a moan. Closing her eyes and trying to not think about what she was doing, Rahne pushed her tongue out of her mouth and began to lick. Before long she was fully into it, enthusiastically lapping away.

Dani could barely stand. She wasn’t really into anything back there, but it was the closest they’d come to actual sex with each other and that made her incredibly excited. It was just as she really began to feel the first orgasm in a month building up that Illyana told Rahne to stop. She couldn’t have them enjoying themselves after all.

—————————————————————

Sat in a circle around the candles with the tome set in the center, Nico Minoru began the ritual. “Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the East, the powers of air and invention. Hear us.”

Next Karolina chanted: “Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the South, the powers of fire and feeling. Hear us.”

“Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the West, powers of water and intuition. Hear us.” Rogue contributed

Kitty looked down at the piece of paper with her bit written down, “Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the North, by the powers of mother and earth. Hear us.”

Thunder crashed and the sound of fizzling could be heard in the system before all went dark, just barely not pitch-black in the dull red light powered by the backup generator. Lockdown had officially begun.

Nico, Karolina, and Rogue then chanted in unison: “Aid us in our magical workings on this eve. Serpent of old, ruler of the deep. Guardian of the bitter sea. Show us your glory. Show us your power! We pray of thee, we pray of thee. We invoke thee.”

And then, with another crash of thunder, the candles snuffed out and then flicked back to life, burning brighter than they had before. The pages in the book turned slowly at first but soon it was flipping rapidly past grimy page after grimy page until it landed on a specific one.

“Retribution of Raggadorr.” Nico read slowly under the illumination of the candlelight.

“What’s it do?” Rogue asked.

“It’s a hex that promises to punish the subject through…one minor annoyance.” Nico relayed.
Rogue looked at her with bemusement. “Really? This is in the book you stole off Agatha Harkness. Let’s find somethin’ a bit more…more.”

“Hold on this could be useful actually…” Karolina muttered .

Completing her thought process, Kitty suggested “What if we cast it on Illyana?”

—————————————————————

The tone in Agatha’s cell was quickly growing hostile. What was already an uneasy alliance of self-centered witches was built upon access to an item…and now that object was gone. What else was there to do but turn on each other?

“So you don’t have the book? Well this has been a massive waste of my time!” Satana groaned. “This is the last time I do business with you, Agatha Harkness. I could have spent this night with Hela…instead I am in this cell with you. Maybe I should bend you over and make up for what I missed”

“Perhaps she is right. Maybe the best course of action would be the take thee to use to our heart’s delight! Allow it to be a lesson to those who squander my precious attention”

Jennifer nodded. “Not a bad idea.”

“And they say the sanctity of sisterhood in a coven is dead!” Agatha quipped, casual attitude doing little to ease the growing conflict.

“Says the one who killed her first coven.” Jennifer remarked.

Agatha chose to bypass that, knowing there was no good retort. “Give me a little more time before you shove a broomstick up my ass.”

“I don’t know, tying you down and having you eat me out between sessions of shoving stuff up your butt does sound pretty funny. It would be just like old times.” Rio interjected.

Agatha was just about to come back at Rio with a snide remark when Lilia suddenly exclaimed: “They’re attempting to use the Book of the Damned to play childish tricks on someone. Trying and failing no less”

“Who is?” Satana questioned.

The image Lilia saw was blurry, details shrouded in a mystic fog (courtesy of the various magic-prevention runes located around the prison). She was just able to make out a faint image of the young thieves. “Four girls. The lead one has dark hair, lots of makeup, kinda goth.”

Agatha laughed. “I knew she couldn't be trusted! We’ll take the book back and make her pay!”
“Let us kill them each and summon the book back!” Morgan decreed without any apprehension to murder.

“Love the enthusiasm but let's circle back to that later” Agatha responded. “Ok, so ideas?”
“How are we gonna get the book back from in here? Don’t know if you noticed but the cells are all on lockdown” Jen replied.

“What about a spell of misfortune?” Lilia suggested.

Satana looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“How do you not know about misfortune spells?” Jennifer rolled her eyes.

Satana grit her teeth in annoyance. “I haven’t learned every spell from every type of witchcraft! Just explain it like I’m five”

“When a coven is using a tome it cannot be taken directly without manifesting the most recent curses cast tenfold upon the thief. That power must be slowly sabotaged until we have a hold on the book” Morgan explained.

“Ok but they stole it from you without a super hex” Satana questioned.

“We weren’t actively using the book then” Agatha explained.

“Seems obvious a hex shall suffice.” Morgan suggested with a wave of her hand, speaking down to the group.

Rio smiled “Cool! Anyone have a locket of her hair?” She didn’t like Morgan’s attitude and already knew there was a flaw to her idea.

Jennifer was the one to pick up on it. “Besides, you need a cauldron for that. Unless one of you is just hiding one in your jumpsuit, that plan won’t work.”

Satana paused. “A cauldron is just a big metal bowl thing, right? Well we have one thing…”

—————————————————————

“Right then, I’m going to ask you again and you’re going to answer honestly this time. Why were you spying on us?” Elsa Bloodstone questioned. Pacing back and forth slowly, she held a personally-crafted shiv. Before her was the young mutant Jubilee tied down with linens to a chair. Why was a mutant who created fireworks bound up in the cell of a monster hunter and a host of an Egyptian deity? A little ago Elsa and Layla El-Faouly returned to their cell and found the girl rummaging through their things in search of something…or, to Elsa Bloodstone at least, plotting to kill them. It probably didn’t help that Jubilee had been caught holding a shiv. It wouldn’t have been the first time supernatural forces contained within the prison paid someone to do their work.

“I already said, I wasn’t spying on you! Just let me go!” Jubilee frantically pleaded. The interrogation had been going for a long twenty minutes now and it didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon. This was the last time (it wasn’t) she took a dare from Negasonic Teenage Warhead.

Elsa nodded. “Pity for you then, because I don’t believe you.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jubilee asked.

“You’re quite thick aren’t you? Why were you in our cell?” Elsa asked, getting increasingly more annoyed by this little circle they were going in. “The faster you answer the faster I may decide whether I untie you or stab you.”

Jubilee fearfully looked at the blade. “It was a dare! I was supposed to steal one of your shivs because Negasonic said I would then be allowed to join the Sisterhood.”

Elsa sighed. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“I mean…yeah kinda. Because it’s y’know THE TRUTH!” Jubilee yelled, giving her surprisingly tight bindings a tug. Her attempt to break free did little but move the chair slightly.

Layla had been mostly quiet throughout the process, only looking up from her book to occasionally provide the rare thought here and there. Her cellmate did tend to be rather…eccentric after all and that was coming from the prostitute with the goddess Taweret inside of her.

“I think she’s telling the truth…” Layla said wisely, setting the book aside.

“She was standing in our cell with a bloody shiv!” Elsa replied before turning her attention back to Jubilee. “Do I look stupid to you?”

A rage at her predicament bubbled inside Jubilee. No matter how misjudged this rage was, and no matter how much she was about to regret this, she just had to say: “Well I mean yeah!”

Elsa immediately lunged at her tied-up captive and raised the dull tip of her blade to Jubilee’s chin. The threat was clear.

Layla sprung up. “Ok why don’t we put the shiv down…” she said calmly. Elsa slowly pulled the shiv back and set it down on the sink. “good…and then maybe you could interrogate her with a different method?” Layla offered.

“You’re lucky she’s here tonight” Elsa said to Jubilee as she dragged the chair over to the toilet and teetered Jubilee’s face over the bowl. She considered makeshift water torture a merciful compromise.

Jubilee’s eyes went wide, left no choice but to peer into the dirty water which her face may or may not be shoved in to in just a moment,

“What was it you were saying?” Elsa asked.

“N-Nothing!” Jubilee sputtered. She let out a sigh of relief as Elsa teetered the chair back…and then pushed it forward. After a few seconds, Jubilee was lifted out of the toilet, coughing and hacking as water went up her nose.

“This was really better than simply cutting her?” Elsa asked Layla in annoyance. There was only a muffled murmur in response. “...Layla? Bloody Hell!” the monster hunter exclaimed, turning to see Layla wrapped from head to toe in bedding, vaguely resembling a mummy. Due to the inexperience of Rogue’s coven, the spell meant for Illyana had been sent to someone random. Unfortunately that someone was Layla, who now was now unable to move in her tight (yet kinda comfortable) confinement.

Elsa spun back around and turned a spluttering Jubilee to face what had happened. “What did you do to her?”

—————————————————————

“So how do we know if the spell, y’know, worked?” Kitty asked. They’d gone through the steps of the relatively easy hex, and then nothing happened. Or at least they thought nothing happened. They didn’t know that in a different cellblock Layla El-Faouly was currently a bit wrapped up (literally).

“Uhhhh…” Nico quickly scanned the tome again. “Well it says here we’ll hear a knock at the door and have a vision.”

Rogue stared unblinkingly. “We don’t have a door.” she said flatly.

Karoline’s face turned philosophical. “Well the bars are kind of a door in a way, are they not?”
They waited in uncomfortably long silence (not counting the sound of the storm outside of course) and…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Maybe we should try a different one?” Nico asked awkwardly.

—————————————————————

“You have to be kidding me…” were the words Agatha murmured as the coven gathered around the closest stand-in for a cauldron they could find given the limited number of things in a prison cell.

“Just focus. The faster we do this, the faster we won’t be using a toilet as cauldron!” Jennifer insisted, tossing in “earthen leaves green” (weed) she’d taken off a now resentful Satana. She’d just bought it off Trish and some angry new girl a few hours ago. It was a shame to see it used as an ingredient in some foul concoction and not in her lungs.

“What next?” Lilia asked with apprehension.

“The locket of hair.” Jennifer replied.

Satana reached under the bed, scouring the floor for a strand. Finding what she sought, she excitedly held up a black hair that didn’t look like it belonged to either inhabitant of the cell. “Does this count?”

“That isn’t a locket.” Jennifer said flatly, annoyance in her tone,

Satana frowned. “Yeah but a strand is close enough, right?”

“It will have to be. Put it in” Agatha insisted with annoyance at the delays the night had found her experiencing. The more time she spent with her new temporary coven the less patient she felt.

Jennifer immediately halted the over-zealous Satana. “Stop! This is a precise craft. ‘It will have to be’ isn’t a good basis for attempting anything this delicate”

“Thank you for the lesson. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Why don’t you just go and get us the amount of hair we need…oh wait.” Agatha groaned. “Just. Put. It. In.”

“That’s exactly what you said that night in Salem.” Rio grinned.

Morgan sighed. “Can’t you cease thine advances for a moment? I tire of hearing them.”

Rio shrugged. “Can’t make any promises.” She pushed out her cheek with her tongue, smirking.

The hair was added to the concoction, the addition shifting the water to a greenish shade that swirled with a pale misty foam. The witches gathered close to their ‘cauldron’ as it began to bubble and brew, swarming with an unseen magic.

“Now we need the blood of the most wicked witch of our coven” Jennifer announced, using a plastic spoon to swirl the brew.

“Wicked witch? That really is such a stereotype…but it’s probably Agatha.” Lilia said with copious side-eye.

Agatha took it with stride, grinning with pride.“That’s true. The Wicked Witch was based on me even. Alright, does anyone have anything sharp?”

“Pretty sure that isn’t true and you’re so not the most wicked. Morgan is obviously worse than you.” Satana spoke up.

“I am worse than her?” Morgan scoffed. “I hath never done a deed wicked whose end did not justify the path towards it. I righteously wished to see Camelot freed of my tyrannical brother’s reign. If that makes me wicked in the feeble minds of peasantry then so be it”

Everyone except Rio gave Morgan a look. “The ends justify the means isn’t usually a solid argument for righteousness.” Jennifer said.

“So it sounds like Morgan is in agreement that the answer is me” Agatha added, seeing it as a victory. She was just about to ask for a shiv when Lilia suddenly interjected:

“I knew we couldn’t trust her!”

Confusion was the response she was met with. “...Yeah we all knew that” Satana rolled her eyes.

“What?” Lilia asked, wide-eyed.

Jennifer paused. “...You said ‘I knew we couldn’t trust her’”

Lilia nodded no. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re being weird again? That’s fun.” Rio chimed in, evidently avoiding participating in the night’s events save for commentary.

“Just take it” Satana handed a shiv over to a satisfied Agatha.

With a gnarly cut across the arm, the blood was added in. Its sanguine colour swirled into the green liquid in slow circles, never quite diluting in the water.

—————————————————————

Domino had settled in comfortably for the night, cozying herself on her couch (yes she had a couch) in front of the wall mounted tv. She had the most lavish cell in all the prison, a cell so nice that no one quite knew why it was ever built in the first place. It had everything a girl who’d gotten herself incarcerated for the fun of it could ever dream of: a nice bath, a wardrobe of silk pyjamas (still orange and in the prison uniform style of course), a big soft bed, the aforementioned tv, even a few potted plants that were effortlessly lush. She just happened to be lucky enough to be assigned the place.

With the storm furiously beating against the hull of the prison outside, Domino turned on her tv and navigated to Oscape+ where she browsed for a suitable horror flick. The Swamp-Creature of Citrusville a bit too vintage for her mood at the moment. Marvel: Zombies too meta. The Haunting of Ravencroft maybe. Journey into Mystery hard pass. Revenge of The Ghost Rider IV: The Reckoning made her roll her eyes, which is exactly why that was the one.

It was the one that saw the flaming Spirit of Vengeance, established in previous films as a damned gunslinger who sold their soul to the Devil, trading in their blazing steed and poncho for a motorbike and leather jacket. Domino found it to be the most laughably 1980s slasher sequel thing ever.

The woman on the tv let out one of the fakest screams imaginable as an infernal chain wrapped around her and the gory title cued. Just then the power went out across the prison, yet Domino was completely unaffected. It seemed the backup generator just happened to feed enough power to her cell to keep the tv working. Lucky her.

“No tears, please. They are a waste of good suffering.” The Ghost Rider said in his typical emotionless dispassion as he dragged one of the unlikable protagonists through a gate to Hell. Domino mused on how, of the series, this entry had one of the least remarkable plots…until she remembered a key segment of the film. A section of the film, the part she was nearing upon, involved Ghost Rider emerging in a women’s prison to collect the soul of one of the inmates.

Right on cue the next scene opened with the sound of the spirit’s spurs singing as they walked down the dusty moonlit road towards the prison, inter-cut with scenes of very naked women in the prison showers. Why the inmates would be showering in the middle of the night Domino had no clue.

Domino perked up at the part where Ghost Rider’s main target, by the name of Linda Littletrees, showers beside an unnamed blonde inmate. The blonde inmate is new and Linda wants to show her “who’s boss in the joint,” yes the lines in the film were awful. Nervously the prissy new girl tries to cover herself but Linda shoves her against the wall and the two get into a fight resulting in the unnamed blonde woman dropping the soap. From there it’s heavily implied, but not shown, that Linda sexually assaults her. Most people agreed that this scene was completely pointless, besides catering to the director’s abysmally-disguised fetish, but Domino always did have a certain fondness for it. Now having been in prison, she decided that the scene ranked about an 8/10 on the realistic scale from what she’d observed about life in The Raft.

The Ghost Rider let out a low, sombre whistle as he approached the barbed wire fence of the prison, somehow going undetected by security despite literally being on fire. Meanwhile, Linda stripped out of her denim prison uniform to nothing but her underwear and laid down in her bed, looking pretty assured in herself after terrorising the woman in the showers. That was until she heard the whistle.

“Quiet it down, bitch” She barked down the cellblock, mistakenly thinking it was just some annoying inmate. She heard no response.

The whistling only grew louder in the darkness and so Linda rolled her eyes and got out of her bed. Clinging to the bars, she cheesily said: “I said quiet it down or I’ll give you the beatdown of your life in the yard tomorrow!” Yet again, no response. Domino couldn’t help but internally admit that despite the actress’ limited range she really sold the whole sudden-chill-shooting-down-your-spine-because-something-otherworldy look.

Linda took two slow steps away from the bars, looking nowhere near as confident. The whistling was just outside her cell now. It grew louder and louder and then, all of the sudden, stopped. Complete silence. At that moment a chain with some of the worst fire special effects shot out from the barred window behind Linda and wrapped around her torso.

Domino outright burst into laughter as the Ghost Rider teleported in front of the inmate and flatly said: ”I have such sights to show you.” before giving her his trademark Penance Stare. Over the screaming in the film Domino thought she could hear something: whistling. It was subtle at first but it had grown more distinct, unmistakable. She paused the tv and listened. Nothing.

Resuming her terrible film, she swore she could hear it again after a minute or two and so she paused again. There it was now, a low sullen whistle coming from a little down the cellblock. At that moment she felt something metallic coiling around her leg and looked down to see a long chain. She smirked as it pulled her into the air, it had been a relatively boring night until now.

Suspended in midair, the chains wrapped around Domino in tight arcs and diamonds, looping underneath the soft swell of her breasts and around her ribcage before crossing back down over the gentle curve of her stomach. In a minute's time, Domino’s entire torso and the tops of her thighs down to her knees were bound in the intricate design. She gave it a tug but the chains would hold strong as long as she was enjoying herself. It was the tightest (and only) luck-induced Shibari she’d experienced. The longer she dangled there, the more she submitted to the bonds of the chain, the more aroused she became. Her pussy was now unmistakably wet. The burning and yearning built and built, each moment swelling towards a crescendo that could not come, a wave that could not break, and soon her clit was screaming through every corner of her mind for touch. She tried wiggling as much as she could, trying to gain some friction between her legs, but it was hopeless. The more she focused on how excited she was, the less the chains would budge. Of course, this was all her own doing. If she wanted free, the chains would simply come undone through a one in a trillion chance. At least for now, she enjoyed the denial of it all. It was funny how the failed spells of Rogue’s group just so happened to backfire to Domino’s benefit.

—————————————————————

“Do you ever just lay down and close your eyes and imagine you’re just drifting through space? Because sometimes I just feel like I’m floating through the cosmos and it totally rocks.” Karolina mused.

Rogue looked up at her in moody confusion. “Am I supposed to imagine that for this to work?” she asked genuinely, although her tone made it seem snarkier than she intended. Nico and Karolina had suggested testing a simpler spell in the book, Levitation of Limbo, and that was why Rogue was currently laying in the center of the cells surrounded by candles while Nico, Karolina, and Kitty sat around her.

“No. But you can if you want I guess. Why do you ask?” Karolina asked, finding Rogue’s confusion confusing.

Rogue frowned. “Nevermind.”

“Just hold really still” Karolina instructed before looking up at the other two. “You take your index finger and your middle finger and put it under her like this.” She directed, careful to touch only Rogue’s jumpsuit. “Now you have to imagine that she's incredibly light; like she's made of air. Then we need to chant ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board.’” Nowhere in the tome did it expressly say it must be performed this way, but the fun-yet-confusing game aspect had been Karolina’s idea.

“Are arcane spells usually performed through childish games twelve-year olds play at sleep-overs?” Rogue quipped.

“Concentrate or it's not gonna work.” Karolina chided. “Now does anyone have the lighter?”

“Here you go…shit where’d it go?” Kitty looked about the cell floor for it but it was nowhere to be found. Not near the candles, nor under the bed. Neither atop the chair or on the barred window sill. Rogue was told to remain completely still, which she excelled at in her near-rigor mortis state, as the others sought out the lost item in the dim cell. When they couldn’t find it they turned to searching under the mattresses, and yet still they found nothing. It wasn’t until the flash of lightning filled the room with a sudden source of light that they saw the lighter upright just beyond the entrance to their cell. It stood upright, as if carefully placed by some unseen person.

A chill shot down Kitty’s spine at the meticulously placed object but she pushed the building fearful notions out of mind. It was just a coincidence. A really bizarre coincidence. Items tended to just fall upright like that all the time. There was certainly nothing odd about it at all. She resolved to think no more of it as long as no one else thought it strange, but of course someone just had to say something.

“How ominous.” Nico said flatly before Rogue had a chance to say the same while Karolina looked at the lighter with her eyes wide in bewilderment. She seemed more perplexed than scared. Kitty was taken by surprise as Karolina stepped forward and took back the item without any hesitation and then used it to light a blunt she’d been hiding in a bag they found when they tossed the room.

Taking a long slow drag, Karolina rested back onto her place in the circle and closed her eyes. Nico took her spot next and then Kitty. Karolina exhaled and then opened her eyes, looking just a little more glazed over than the already quite glazed look they previously had. “You ever feel like your brain is being folded like a towel?”

Kitty nodded in awkward support, not wanting to come off judgy since she’d never smoked weed before.“Oh, I kinda thought the lighter was for the ritual.”

Rogue, who need I remind you was still laying still in the middle of the room, coughed to get the attention of the group. “Are we still doin’ this?”

“Oh yeah!” Karolina exclaimed, getting back into the circle and resuming her instructions on what they all do. It took surprisingly more coaching than expected, although that “coaching” was mostly her getting distracted and talking about other topics, before they were ready.
Chanting the incantation of the game, they shut their eyes and held hands around Rogue. Thrice they repeated the chant before they looked to see if it worked.

“Holy shit…” escaped from an amazed Karolina, who was of course first to speak. Rogue was hovering in the air.
“Is this workin’?” Rogue asked in annoyance, evidently not aware she wasn’t on the ground.

“You’re…Rogue, you’re like floating.” Kitty replied in astonishment. She’d seen people fly, she’d even attended school with a person who had wings, but this was different. This was magic.

Rogue opened her eyes and looked down, seeing the distance from where she’d been laying. “Woah…” she uttered but then noticed a possible flaw. “H-How do I get down?”

“Shut up or you’re going to fall.” Nico chided playfully.

“Just um try focusing y'know?” Kitty suggested, not actually knowing the answer but wanting to comfort her. The idea seemed plausible enough.

Rogue closed her eyes once more and breathed carefully, picturing herself gently lowering down to the floor. Suddenly there came another crash of thunder, booming across the sea. Rogue immediately dropped far faster than she’d planned. “Ow!” She said, falling on her butt.
“Let’s try something else!” Kitty and Karolina chimed.

—————————————————————

Felicia’s tale wasn’t the only horror story the women of the cell had, apparently prison was full of horrific things to recount. With deals gone wrong, acts that happened to girls being claimed, and cruel punishments, there was no shortage of terror.

A very tipsy (and high) Gwen had just told a story about her night with serial killer Shriek when Michelle asked to go next. Given rare permission from Felicia to do something that didn’t involve putting her face anywhere near the thief’s pussy, she began:

“There was this cell where the women inside were slaves to a prison mommy who revelled in violently bullying them and making sure every waking second was as miserable as her life was. The second she woke up she would degrade them and it only stopped when she was asleep. From the skimpy clothes she made them wear, to the fact that she wouldn’t even let them masturbate, life in her cell was miserable…”

“That sounds horrible…” Kate was aghast…and completely missing that this story was about Felicia.

Michelle continued: “It was. Oh and she’d sell them for cigarettes in the yard where they were whored out to serial killers, gangsters, and supervillains-”

“Ok that’s enough storytime for you.” Felicia cut her off with a stern look.

“No, I want to hear the rest of the story.” Yelena surprisingly insisted. Unlike Kate, she did know who it was about and found it very fun to hear.

Felicia tapped her fingernails against her bed in irritation. “Sorry, Yels, but she’s going to shut up now. Liz…”

“Y-Yes, mommy?” Liz nervously perked up from the spot on the floor she’d been laying at after Felicia finally tired of cuddling.

“Start making out with MJ2.” Felicia snapped.

“I liked the story…” Kate said, thinking that this was about Felicia thinking the story was bad.

Not daring to groan, Michelle got off her seat and kneeled on the floor where a very begrudging Liz met her. It wasn’t a secret that they hated each other, all of Peter Parker’s exes did, but they each hated some more than others. For Mary Jane Watson, her mortal enemy was Gwen. But for Liz it was Michelle. And that was exactly why Felicia often made them kiss, make-out, or fuck. It was a favourite punishment of hers that always put a frown on their faces (if their mouths weren’t too busy to frown that is).

Kate shifted uncomfortably as she watched the two unenthusiastic women embrace, locking lips dispassionately and then beginning to loudly do as told, making out in dispassionate yet exploitative fashion. They were practically humping mouths. Kate wanted to look away, both out of respect for them and herself, but it was like watching a train wreck.

Even more disturbing to Kate was that Yelena didn’t see a problem with what was happening. Or at least she didn’t say anything. Wait, did she hear Yelena chuckle? “W-whose turn is it next?” Kate asked, hoping a story would take her attention away from the, quite frankly, weird moment.

Feeling a surge of power over her guests, Felicia chose to press their least sociable member for some engagement. “Jessica, you’ve been pretty quiet tonight. I think it’s only fair that you tell us a story since you’ve drinken most of our booze”

Jessica Jones, now word-slurring drunk, dizzily shot a middle finger into the air that Felicia couldn’t see from her place below the bunk. But fear not because Jessica also had a verbal response and it was as creative as you can expect from her. “Ask me for a story again and I’ll kick my foot so goddamn deep up your crotch it makes you cum.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, gorgeous.” Felicia smirked.

No one in the cell knew that a spell had been cast upon someone within, the recipient of Karolina’s resentment. But who was it? Take a guess. We’ll be back to this group shortly

—————————————————————

“What’s different?” Rogue asked perplexed by Karolina’s new insistent question. Her, Nico, and Kitty were all staring at Karolina’s face looking for some change the blonde insisted was present after abruptly looking in a mirror.

“Look closely…” Karolina repeated for a third time.

Nico sighed. “I’m looking. I just don’t see any difference.”

“Well I guess you’re just colour blind.” Karolina teased.

“Can't you just like you tell us?” Kitty asked.

Karolina responded with mock-offence. “My eyes are green now!”

Nico paused, giving it a long thought as she cringed inside. “Weren't they always green…” she said with a sheepish grin, suddenly feeling really bad.

“My eyes are normally blue.” Karolina corrected. “You’re my girlfriend and you don’t know what the colour of my eyes are?”

Nico gave a panicked yet incredibly coherent: “What? Well- I…uh…”

“Don’t worry I won’t punish you for that too hard in bed.” Karolina reassured, giving her girlfriend a kiss.

Rogue couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the physical affection. It wasn’t the act which made her uncomfortable, but the fact that she couldn’t do the same with anyone. And then the thought of that reminded her once again of the painfully embarrassing kiss with Kitty. “I don’t understand the point in why you’re showin’ us this…” she said before realising it sounded rude and quickly adding “...besides it lookin’ good of course”

Karolina’s lips softly parted from Nico’s and she turned to Rogue. “Because we made you float and now I changed the colour of my eyes. That means the magic obviously works.”

“So Illyana is just like immune for whatever reason?” Kitty asked. She was still pretty confused by the night’s events but she was just going with it. Illyana randomly being immune to curses was normal for all she knew.

“Yep. So we should try another big spell but not on her.” Nico nodded.

“Sure…but who now?” Rogue questioned.

Karolina beamed. “Oooo I know!”

—————————————————————

Kate was growing uncomfortable in Felicia’s cell but was far too polite to say it. Michelle and Liz’s make-out session had escalated to them undressing each other under the Black Cat’s insistence, Jessica was clearly unhappy about being present, Mary Jane was high (that wasn’t disturbing but it should be stated that Kate didn’t catch on to the poetic nature of it), and Yelena was talking to Felicia about…something. The topic didn’t really make much sense to Kate in her distracted state. But the night was about to get about 100% more uncomfortable when Jessica suddenly gasped as her jumpsuit fell open and she was unable to zip it back up

“Are you ok?” Kate asked in concern at whatever was happening on the top bunk.

The response she received was a simple “fuck off” as Jessica cursed (in a slew of random expletives). No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get her jumpsuit to close and so she tugged at it until, with a loud ripppp, her clothing tore. Next to go were her underwear which was pulled by a force unseen and then Jessica was forced to lay down with her legs spread wide.

“I-Is this normal?” Kate asked fearfully, wondering if it was just another Raft thing.

Yelena, direct as ever, replied: “No, this is not normal.” She had put a hand in the air, shielding Kate protectively from whatever Jessica was doing.

Struggling to break free from some unseen assailant, Jessica’s eyes went wide in pain as she felt herself be kicked…down there. It was a quick, ramming force that seemed to lodge itself between her pussy lips; as painful as it was bizarre. Her own threat had been turned against her. It really seemed more like something that should happen to Felicia.

—————————————————————

Rogue, Kitty, Karolina, and Nico each had a vision of Jessica’s fate, proving that the spell had worked. The thing was no one except Karolina even knew who Jessica was.

“Wait, what'd she do to you?” Nico asked in perplexion. “Who the fuck even is she?”

“She was super rude when I bought that ecstasy last week.” Karolina (the ‘blonde new-agey girl’ from Chapter 20) replied like it was something everyone already knew and she was being forced to remind them.

“I thought we were taking turns.” Nico said.

Karolina nodded “Yes. After this one thing.” Little did they know that the only reason the spell on Jessica actually struck its target was because Agatha’s coven was too busy arguing.

—————————————————————

“Puppy, come here girl. Come on” Illyana condescendingly beckoned Rahne using the most humiliating nickname one could really give a werewolf. Rahne, arse still aching from the torment inflicted just a few minutes prior, rose to her feet but was stopped. “Crawl.” Illyana commanded, staring her slave down until she was intimidated into obeying.

Dani felt a wave of second-hand embarrassment at watching her girlfriend lower onto her knees and crawl over, letting out what sounded like a whimper as she did.

“Sit.” Illyana ordered, followed by Rahne immediately doing as told, knees bent and arms between her thighs. She sat at attention dreading where things could be going. Being treated like a dog was not on her list of expected things for the night but here she was.

Amused, Illyana followed up her old command with a new one. “Roll over.” she said flatly. Rahne shifted uncomfortably, face blushing redder and redder, as she tried to suppress what little dignity she had left in order to get this sick game over with. She wanted to say something, to try and fight back, but it was usually the more outspoken Dani who took the brunt of Illyana’s abuse. Rahne figured at least her girlfriend was being allowed a semblance of a brief reprieve for the night. Unfortunately Dani’s reprieve meant that Rahne had to be the one to get picked on now.

Taking a deep breath, Rahne got on her back and rolled along on the dirty floor like she was feral. In the darkness of the cell she was at least spared complete visibility of the way Illyana smiled at her, that wolfish grin.

“That’s enough. Now come here, puppy. Come on.” Illyana patted the bed for emphasis. Rahne closed her eyes, trying to suppress the urge to say something that would definitely make things so much worse for herself. It was likely because her eyes were closed that she didn’t see how close she was before hitting her forehead against Illyana. Opening her eyes she recoiled in horror at the sight of Illyana’s foot in her face.

“Y-You want me to…” Rahne failed to find the ability to actually verbally express what was being demanded of her. The lycan had found the fact that shoes were prohibited to be repulsive from the start, especially given the usual dirty nature of their work in the vibranium mines, but this outright made her stomach tighten into a sickening knot.

“To clean them, yes. Now be a good pet…” Illyana smiled at just how disgusted Rahne and Dani seemed to be. She’d had her pets for a while but she hadn’t seen either of them like this since the first time she told them that she was going to make them lick her arse or else she’d sell them to Hela.

Rahne swallowed deeply and forced her lips to part. Hesitantly, her tongue softly met the sole of Illyana’s foot, the taste of dirt being less than pleasant. Despite how she gagged, Rahne worked her tongue down her foot, a long wet stroke against grime. A look of disgust sat burdened upon her face, but she would push through the degradation for as long as she could.

Rahne felt a deep scorching burn of shame fill her chest, growing until it felt like it consumed her whole. Her limbs felt limp, almost completely non-existent, as she kept at her task. She knew she couldn’t pull away no matter how much she wanted to. This felt particularly sadistic, even for Illyana. It was more in line with what Dani had heard Emma Frost made her harem do.

“That's a good girl.” Illyana shut her eyes and patted Rahne on the head like a dog. Calmly taking a breath as she let Maya "wash" away the grime.

Rahne licked for what felt like hours (although it maybe was only ten minutes) until she was convinced that they were clean enough for her to stop. Key words: clean enough. As if instinctively knowing that Rahne had rushed through the process, Illyana happily chided her: “You’re only making my night funner if they’re not spotless.”

Rahne whined but hurriedly doubled her efforts, wanting to throw up the entire time. By the time she was done her tongue was dry and practically blackened, but at least it was over. She nudged back and watched the grinning Illyana examine her work. It was hard to tell whether Illyana was grinning because she was satisfied, or if it was because she was about to have a new infraction to punish her slaves over.

“You did good.” Illyana gave a rare mark of approval. Rahne sighed in relief but couldn’t muster the energy to not be abjectly grossed out inside, a sickened look on her fair face. “Are you miserable, puppy?” Illyana gave a mocking frown. “Think of it this way, because your mouth is so gross I won’t want you to lick any other part of me for the rest of the night.”

—————————————————————

Tears fell slowly from Wanda’s tired eyes as she lay with her face beneath Jean Grey’s panty-clad arse, a place she'd been for thirty minutes now. Despite plenty of experience, the witch’s tongue ached from continuously lapping and yet she didn’t dare stop. She knew that she must lick her mistress’ crack until expressly told otherwise…and that very well could have been an hour away. This was coming after an hour of punishments far worse, The Phoenix’s mental degradations so awful that they burned far too much to forget, and so, feeling that surely her girlfriend must grow weary of this soon, she just licked and gagged and cried, hating every humiliating second. All of this because she’d played a board game with Natasha.

At last came sudden reprieve as Jean began to shift. Was she finally bored? Wanda eagerly hoped so. Jean rose from her seated position, allowing Wanda to see something that wasn’t her girlfriend’s butt for a brief moment…and then Jean began to pull down her underwear. Shapely bare bottom now exposed, she gently re-mounted Wanda’s face as if she were a cushion (which, metaphorically speaking, she was). “Continue” was the simple, yet effective, command Wanda was mentally given.

As expected, this continued into the dark hours of the lockdown for some time, with Wanda given no sound to focus on except the pitter patter of the rain outside while Jean silently read a book by torchlight. It would have been boring if not for the fact that it was somehow a relief in comparison to what The Phoenix had done earlier. She knew she wanted out of her relationship, but she was too scared to even dare think of the matter for too long.

Lingering somewhere between sleep and terror at stopping, Wanda lost track of what time it was precisely but her unsavoury punishment came to an end when Jean yawned and dismissively told her to stop. Wanda obeyed the order immediately, needing no second utterance. Hastily she rolled over to cry herself to sleep as Jean went to the top bunk. At best she’d be able to manage a couple hours of sleep where nightmares always awaited her.

The witch curled up into a ball, eyes shut tight, and she nestled her head against her thin pillow. Just as rest began to overtake her, she felt a hand grasp her foot and pull her from her bed. At first she assumed it must have been Jean, unable to sleep and horny, but when she opened her eyes there was nothing but the pitch-black of her cell. She looked up and Jean was still on the top bunk.

Wanda was thrust against the bars and icy fingers trailed along her jumpsuit, cupping her breasts, before aggressively tearing open her zipper and slipping their invisible hand between her thighs. She felt someone wrap their arm around her throat as the palm of the intrusive hand rubbed against her pussy.

—————————————————————

“Was that really necessary?” Lilia asked with disapproval in her tone, but when was disapproval new when dealing with Agatha. Redirecting the hex from the Cuckoos to Wanda seemed cruel.

Agatha shrugged. “It was very necessary.” Seeing how the look of doubt remained, she added: “You have your nose broken for no reason by a depressed mom with fake-kids and see how you feel.” Agatha conveniently left out the bit where she was publically touching herself and then made Wanda clean up her cum.

It was best not to bother arguing with her about it. There was no winning when Agatha started her rants about Wanda.

“Look, this whole hex them into losing power over the book idea isn’t working. I have a better idea. We need to summon her.” Satana suggested, but wasn’t really suggesting so much as insisting that the group would do her idea.

“We’re not doing that” Jennifer insisted.

“The woman…the demon…in there is evil” Lilia uttered with clear fear. She knew what wicked things lurked in those pages, of the door to Limbo.

“Which is exactly why we should summon her! Let her deal with them for us” Satana replied.

“Great idea! I can’t imagine how that could go wrong” Rio chimed in.

Satana furrowed her brow in irritation. Through gritted teeth she asked: “Do you have a better idea?”

“Dozens…but I’m just here to observe.” Rio shrugged, not doing anything to ease the once-again rising tension. The group had had enough of the Green Witch, but Rio didn’t care.

Jennifer was one of the people who’d had enough. “So you broke into this place with whatever The Ring shit you pulled to ‘observe?’ Sorry but I don’t think anyone here believes that. Seriously, who are you?”

Rio gave a mischievous look as she said: “You’ll figure it out eventually. Everyone does.” there was something in her tone that seemed old, far older than she appeared.

Morgan fetched the shiv Agatha had cut her palm with. “That shan’t work for us. Begin to explain thyself in greater-depth.

“You have to stop her!” Lilia shouted.

Rio only laughed at the group, a maniacal sort of cackle that really sold the whole witch thing. She wasn’t going to explain anything, even if tortured. If everyone hadn’t been so focused on Rio, they’d have noticed Agatha was strangely silent in the conversation. “This is getting a little out of hand, isn’t it? Go summon the demon if you want. That’s always entertaining.”

“I will!” Satana yelled.

“...Actually, I don’t think we agreed on that…” Lilia said quietly.

Morgan le Fay crossed her arms. “We haveth few other options. If communing with the damned spells my freedom from this wretched place it is a price I am willing to pay”

“We’re not talking about any demon. We’re talking about using the Queen of Limbo as a tool. That isn’t going to end well. We should just stick with the plan.” Jennifer corrected the arrogant mediaeval witch.

“My daddy is Satan. I think I know what I’m doing” Satana said with unearned (or was it earned?) confidence.

Even Agatha seemed hesitant about the idea but ultimately she decided: “We’ll summon her on them…but we keep her far away from us”

-

The dark cell was filled with the flickering of candlelight. Satana was moving across the room, skillfully drawing lines on the floor with a red substance. The sigil was slowly appearing and the witches were waiting anxiously. Rio had ripped off part of her orange uniform, bandaging up a reluctant Agatha, who had provided her blood for the sigil as she had already been bleeding and they had no chalk or other liquid to draw with other than less savoury options.

“Why did you really come here?” Agatha whispered to Rio so only she could hear. “Is someone going to die?”

Rio skillfully tied up the ends of the unexpectedly professional looking wrappings and smirked at her ex-lover. “People die every day, Agatha. That’s what makes my job so fun. One day I will get your body all for myself…”

Agatha rolled her eyes and pushed Rio away. “You disgust me, Lady Death.”
Rio smiled in return and tucked a stray hair behind Agatha’s ear. “It’s not going to be today, you know. Don’t worry.”

“You…” Both women looked up in surprise as they saw Lilia standing right next to them, clearly having overheard them. “She’s Death!” She yelled. The other women all looked up in
Alarm.

"I knew we couldn’t trust her!” Jen shot up and pointed at Rio accusingly.

Before anyone else could react, the sigil lit up brightly, enveloping everyone in a red glow.
“You have to stop her!” Lilia pleaded, looking at Agatha and then Satana. “Someone is going to die! She only comes to collect the dead…”

“It’s too late!” Satana replied, beads of sweat running down her forehead as she concentrated on her summoning. “Get in place or we all die! We need to redirect her to those idiots or we’re done for!”

Rio shrugged and joined her place in the circle, cackling madly. All the other witches moved reluctantly, eyeing Rio worriedly but focusing on the problem at hand for now. The wind outside seemed to grow louder, and a thunderclap made the room shake.

Satana’s voice echoed through the storm. “Ave, Regina Coboliorum, umbrarum profunditates, descende super nos, ultionem mete. Conspiro tecum de regnis invisibilibus!”

The sigil growed brighter evermore and then suddenly stopped, plunging the entire cell into darkness.

Jen screamed and shuffling of feet was heard, then utter silence.

—————————————————————

Distracted from their failed attempts at spellwork, Nico and Karolina were currently getting a bit too close while Rogue and Kitty were left to watch in shared discomfort. The couple practically had forgotten they had guests at all as they were lost in each other’s lips. But it wasn’t the impromptu make-out session that was making Rogue unsettled. It was the now piercing silence between herself and Kitty that forced her to sit with her thoughts more than she liked. She’d done her best to try and avoid silent moments since they reunited but now they were left with no other choice. She didn’t know what to say to her ‘friend’ that wasn’t the confession that had been bubbling inside.

Rogue heaved a sigh of relief when Kitty was the first to speak…and then the question was one that flooded the stress right back in. “Sooooo guess prison here hasnt like had many options for you in the dating field?” Kitty asked, under the impression Rogue was straight. After all, she’d only ever seen Rogue date that cute Cajun with an accent she honestly couldn’t understand a word of.

“No. Not many options when I can’t exactly touch anyone.” Rogue said glumly…before realising that maybe now was her chance. What better night to confess one’s love than a violent storm? “Well I guess there is one girl…” the goth said, giving Kitty a look that pleaded for her to fill in the blank.

Kitty nodded in surprise. “Oh I didn’t know you were bi! That’s cool…”

Rogue shifted uncomfortably, wishing she was having any other conversion right now. Her usual moody, ‘I-don’t-care’ demeanour was entirely gone at this moment, replaced by an adorably shyness. “I literally kissed you…”

Kitty blinked blankly. “Yeah but…y'know… like you said that was just because you were excited…”

Kitty wasn’t catching on. Left with no other choice, Rogue decided to take the metaphorical knife and stab at the heart. “Kitty…I really like you”

“Aw I really like you too!” Kitty smiled, oblivious.

Rogue frowned (more so than usual). “No I like like you”

Kitty looked at Rogue like she was having a stroke. It felt like she’d just said that.“Um yeah I like like you too.” She said slowly yet confidently.

Rogue let out a furious, bloodcurdling scream inside. She couldn't take it anymore. “Kitty, I have a crush on you! I’ve had a crush on you since High School! I’m trying to say that I want to date you!” She yelled.

Kitty gasped. “Ohhhhhhhh…”

Rogue gave her an anxious look, trying to read Kitty’s reception of her confession off a simple exclamation.

“...that explains a lot.” Kitty said quietly.

“D-Do you feel…the same way?” Rogue asked nervously.

“Um…” Kitty paused for an agonisingly long second, each millisecond extending on for seemingly forever. Rogue’s heartbeat faster in fear of rejection, growing near the precipice of all he could stand when Kitty excitedly finally answered: “Totally!”

“Really?” Rogue asked in surprise, half-expecting that any moment of vulnerability would surely lead to a horrific end. “...Can I kiss you?”

Kitty didn’t take as long to answer that question, drawing close to the goth. Just as their lips nearly met there was a flash of flame in the center of the cell that ruined the moment…plus it was pretty terrifying, but Rogue cared more about how it ruined the moment.

A pillar of black smoke, swirling with wire fire and brimstone, erupted and from it sprang the cries of the damned. Lurking within that darkness were a pair of unblinking glowing eyes that surveyed the room with malice. “What fool dares conjure me?” a demonic feminine voice boomed at the shroud began to vanish, revealing a scantily clad woman with violently red hair.

“W-Who are you?” Nico fearfully asked.

“Who am I? I am Madelyn Pryor; Queen of Limbo, Mother of Goblins, Forger of Chains, Lady of the Damned, The Adversary, The Grim Torturer…you get the idea. Basically, I’m about to be the biggest regret of your lives”

Madelyn looked at the dark tome with interest…but it could wait. She would take it after playing with her new mortal toys. She deserved a bit of fun after tending to her queenly obligations (which to be fair she also enjoyed). She was just about to strip each girl naked and force them on their knees so they could start their…Black Mass, but then came the one question she loathed.

Rogue and Kitty were terrified by the demon, but they couldn’t help but ask: “Why do you look like Jean?”

“Silence!” Madelyn hissed, mystically conjuring a gag on both mutants. There was no good way to answer that question without admitting that Jean was her genetic basis. It was a fact Madelyn hated given her desire to be one of a kind. She’d become Queen of Limbo and still she was just “Jean's clone.”

“I was in the middle of penetrating someone with the blunt end of my pitchfork before you so rudely interrupted me…” Madelyn said while lifting each of the inmates into the air and dragging them in close.

“Blunt end of a pitchfork?! Oh my god!” Karolina screamed.

Madelyn smiled. It was nice knowing she didn’t need to be on a throne surrounded by demons to terrify mortals. “Are you interrupting me while I’m talking about how rude it is that you interrupted me? You’re the ones who brought me to this…prison…and you want to whine? Didn’t anyone tell you girls that the warnings come after the spells?”

Hearing murmuring coming from Kitty she removed the gag to hear the girl say: “I-I’m sorry”
“Oh, she's sorry! She's sorry, she's sorry, she's sorry, she's sorry, she's sorry!” Madelyn mocked. “You have no idea how sorry you’ll be when I roast your ass over the eternal flames”

“I really should return home…but I have enough time for a show” Madelyn said. Before any of the prisoners could object they were spun through the air and forced into a twisted show for the demon queen’s amusement. It started with Nico, who was raised above Karolina so that, when the blonde looked up, she was met with her girlfriend’s womanhood resting against her lips. She needed no command to understand what Madelyn wanted her to do, and she could hardly object given the power imbalance.

As Karolina fervently lapped away at Nico, Rogue watched with horror and jealously as Madelyn began to “play” with Kitty’s…kitty. The goth mutant couldn’t help but let out a scream into her gag at the sight that only encouraged Madelyn.

“Jealous of your friend?” Madelyn teased Rogue, running a sharp black fingernail across Kitty’s clit as she did.

It seemed as if Madelyn would go further but against all odds she grew bored of Kitty and turned her attention to Karolina. This of course didn’t mean Kitty was free, no she was abruptly moved through the air until her sex now rested against Nico’s mouth and Karolina was forced to watch. Chains wrapped around Rogue’s arms and directed her to begin touching herself, essentially making her a cuck to her barely-a-girlfriend-of-two-minutes unwilling affair. For all that it mattered, Nico refused to lick.

Able to stand it no longer, Rogue exclaimed: “We didn’t summon you!”

“You didn’t summon me?” Madelyn laughed, having heard that before. “Repeat that again, and know lying to me will result in me tossing you into a bottomless pit for all eternity”

Rogue, heavy breathing and still not allowed to stop what she was doing, tried to explain: “I swear that we didn’t do anythin’ to summon you! We have no idea why you’re here”

“Well then who summoned me, girl?” Madelyn questioned with subtle interest, stopping her perverse show for a minute.

“We don’t know!” Kitty chimed in. “We didn’t like even do any summoning rituals”
The Goblin Queen thought for a moment. She’d tortured enough liars to know these girls weren’t lying…which left only one other possibility. “My my, Sounds like you’ve made someone with quite a lot of skill mad. Can’t imagine you’re all that undeserving. Let this be a a lesson to you each on the consequences of tampering with evil spellbooks. Maybe I should drag you back to Limbo with me and make you my new pleasure slaves…after putting you through torments unimaginable of course”

Madelyn already was devising what sequence of hellish torments she’d make them endure. She loved breaking people down until the very last sliver of hope was crushed. If only it were that simple. “...but unleashing a being as magnificently powerful as myself on complete morons such as yourselves hardly seems fair. Perhaps I should pay this anonymous inviter a visit…” She dropped each member of the coven and reached down to retrieve the book…which was now gone. It was all starting to make sense to the demon now. Just before she could leave, Rogue boldly asked a question:

“Don’t we deserve some apology for this?”

Madelyn smirked. “Are you trying to bargain with me?! You should count yourself lucky I”m letting you go”

Kitty suddenly felt like she had to say something to help Rogue. “I-It’s just um that we’ve like been trying all night to hex Illyana Rasputin and nothing has…y’know…worked. Maybe you could do something to her?” She asked. “But please don’t kill her or drag her to like Hell or whatever”

“Illyana?” Madelyn seemed to recognise the name. “I’ll see what I can do…” and just like that the demon was gone in a flash of black smoke, leaving Rogue, Nico, Kitty, and Karolina incredibly confused on what just transpired.

—————————————————————
“What happened?” Lillia yelped, feeling around in the darkness. Suddenly, the candles blazed once more and Rio was sitting casually on the bed in the corner of the room, smirking.

“Congratulations, you did it.”

The room was quiet, unsure what exactly they ‘did’. It didn’t seem like anything had changed.
“Well it obviously didn’t work.” Jen said in an annoyed voice. She was so sick of dealing with these bitches.

“Oh, but it did.” Agatha chuckled from the corner of the room, darkened by shadows. “Time to take matters into my own hands.” Another spectral glow had appeared on the floor below her feet, smaller this time. The makeshift bandage Rio had given Agatha, filled with scratchy runes, was surrounded by splotches of Agatha’s fresh blood. “Thanks for the fabric, darling.”

Rio looked shocked and surprised, but it was unsure if she was in on the plan or not. The rest of the witches appeared glued to the floor, unable to move.

Agatha started chanting. “O spiritus Chthonii, accipite has praestigias in tributum, erit enim illorum robur tuum. Sed mihi redde votum, et me ex hoc abysso evoca!’”

Each of the trapped witches slowly began to feel their life force weaken, draining faster and faster as Agatha recited the incantation. Agatha did in fact need a coven to escape that much was true, but she didn’t need them alive to do so. They were a sacrifice. Their power would be enough juice for Agatha to pierce the confines of the prison. Although they tried to fight back, it was pointless. The spell’s hold on them was too tight.

A soft pop was heard and in the circle appeared a book. It looked old and battered. The Darkhold. Then, flaming letters appeared on the floor.

A WITCH SHAL: NOT BETRAY HER COVEN. MY WORDS WILL NEVER AGAIN BE YOURS.

A black flame shot into the sky from Agatha’s sigil, making her jump back. With the sigil destroyed, the other witches were able to move again.

Appearing in the cell with a dramatic flash of lightning, Madelyn picked up the book and gave it a quick look though. “Oh don’t mind me just passing through” She smiled wickedly. Satisfied that the tome was in fact the one she sought (she wasn’t going to fall for a knock-off…again), she looked up at Agatha. “Y’know in the old days, if a witch betrayed her coven, they would kill her”

“Madelyn…you-” Agatha began to try to make up some excuse but was hushed.

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m really sick of being in this realm so let’s make this quick. The pain you’ll experience at my hands in Limbo will be deliciously indescribable…” Madelyn began but stopped when Rio’s grim glance caught her eyes. Where others saw Aubrey Plaza, Madelyn could see the woman’s true form and she wasn’t about to piss off Death. Quickly she changed her threat. “...I’ll leave you here…but with a parting gift for the ’fun’ night” her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Madelyn snapped her fingers and then suddenly Agatha felt the sting of cold metal locking itself around her waist. Reaching down she realised what it was…a chastity belt. “You can’t-” Agatha sputtered.

“I can. Oh and this…” A jagged key of red hot metal appeared in Madelyn’s hands “...is the key. Just so you know, I’ll be throwing this into a black hole.” Giving the assembled coven a smirk she bid them ado with a taunting “enjoy yourselves with her, or turn your back on her. You’re right to do so.” and then, through a molten gateway of grasping hands, she was gone.

With the danger gone and punishments dealt, the room was eerily quiet. None of the witches spoke a word for time until Morgan asked with a bloodlust: “So shall we kill her?”

“No objections from me. It only seems fair” Satana agreed. “Let’s make it slow”

Rio picked up the shiv and pointed it at the coven converging on a panicked Agatha. “The only one who gets to slowly torture her to death is me…” Death defended, waving the blade as a demonstration on how prepared she was to kill.

Agatha looked up in rare gratitude…and then Rio added: “...There are better things we can do than kill her”

It took awhile but the witches had their fun taking turns with a helpless Agatha Harkness. When all was said and done, the cell was messied with something other than blood. In the end only Agatha and Rio remained, Agatha’s fingernails scratching at the tough iron already hurting her sensitive skin. “No…Nooo.” She whined. She turned around to face her former lover, tears on her cheeks.“You lied to me! No one even died tonight. You didn’t come here for a body, you came here to torture me.”

Rio shrugged. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Soon enough there will be a body for me to claim. I thought I could stick around a little longer. This cell seems comfortable enough.” She settled on Agatha’s bed comfortably and petted the space next to her.

Agatha let out a frustrated, agonising scream and fell to the ground.

—————————————————————

Morning finally came and with it the power returned, signalling the passing of the storm. The Raft was back to usual, the lockdown was over. There had been no escape, no predicted death. As the barred doors opened and guards once more patrolled, the inmates who weren’t in their cells began to return to their confined homes.

Among the first, Illyana came stumbling out of her cell, taking pained strides now that Lockheed was currently shoved up her butt. Against all odds, Madelyn had actually gone through with Kitty’s request. Seeing their bully near tears at being on the receiving end of being pegged, it had taken incredible willpower for Dani and Rahne to hold their laughter until Illyana was out of earshot.

Domino yawned as she got out of bed, having enjoyed her night of bondage and slasher films. The chains that had wrapped around her had just so happened to give out and disappear when she was feeling tired. She’d certainly had an entertaining time.

It took hours of fighting with a bedsheet, but Elsa Bloodstone had finally managed to free Layla from her mummy bondage by sunrise. As soon as Layla didn’t have a sheet in her mouth stopping her from speaking, she agreed with her beloved monster hunter that it was something they would never discuss again. Jubilee had slipped out and made a vow of her own, that she’d never again take a dare from Negasonic (a vow she would break in a few hours time).

Wanda didn’t end up getting a second of sleep after being spectrally assaulted, having been held up against the bars for most of the night while repeatedly being felt up. Jean had found it incredibly amusing though…for the first hour. After that it was just disruptive to her much needed rest and so she ripped Wanda’s jumpsuit and used the fabric to keep her girlfriend quiet. The gag was tied around the bars so Wanda still was tied to the door by daybreak. This was totally a loving healthy relationship that wasn’t collapsing by the hour.

Jessica returned to her cell, crotch still aching and suffering from a particularly nasty hangover, with a newfound enthusiasm for sharing a cell with Trish. It turned out things could be worse than sharing a room with the adopted-sister you turned in. Much worse. Meanwhile, Kate needed to have a very serious conversation with Yelena about her choice in what friends she introduced her to. Suffice to say, Kate never wanted to spend the night at Felicia’s again. There were scarier things than ghost stories.

Needless to say Agatha’s Coven was officially disbanded, each member choosing to go their separate ways after Agatha’s betrayal. By the next night Agatha would be handcuffed in bed while her new cellmate, a tauntingly naked Rio, drummed her fingers against her chastity belt, enjoying every locked up second a voraciously horny Agatha now endured. Just because she was Death didn’t mean she couldn’t spend some time enjoying her caged ex-girlfriend.

Rogue and Kitty bid Nico and Karolina an awkward goodbye, agreeing to make plans for another coven meeting soon, this time without any stolen evil books. They’d had their fair share of demons for a lifetime…or until the next time they ran into Satana at least.

Now back in their cell, the first thing Kitty and Rogue noticed was the conspicuous absence of Illyana, a fact they both found comforting. It meant they finally had a quiet moment to talk…or do other things. They had a lot to sort out now that they were dating after all.

“So um about earlier…” Kitty nervously began, their previous moment having been interrupted by the Queen of Limbo’s dramatic arrival. The anxious start immediately made Rogue freeze, nervous Kitty had changed her mind. But what followed was nothing to fear. “...I think we like left off on you kissing me”

Rogue, practically giddy (which didn’t look all that different from her usual flat demeanour if we’re being honest) leaned in as Kitty entered a state of half-phase so it wouldn’t hurt. The goth felt like she could hear both of their hearts racing with excitement. This was the moment. Rogue’s first proper kiss with anyone and Kitty’s first with another woman. Their soft lips met in a perfectly imperfect embrace…and cue Illyana showing up, angrier than ever.

“How did you do you it?” the blonde questioned, leaning against the bars.

Kitty sighed as once again her kiss with Rogue was interrupted. “Do what?” she feigned ignorance.

“You’re not that stupid.” Illyana pointed at Rogue. “You threatened to shove Lockheed up my ass and then I woke up and guess where he was?”

Rogue furrowed her brow in disgust. “Please tell me you plan on washin’ him” she remarked

“Well duh. But he has separation anxiety. This isn’t good for him” Illyana replied like it made sense. “Oh and you summoned Madelyn at me? You losers thought Limbo would scare me? I was basically their de-facto queen before she got the crown. Alright, enough talk. Both of you bend over”

Kitty and Rogue gave each other terrified glances, knowing that whatever Illyana (apparently a literal bully from Hell) had in store for them this time was going to be bad. But at least they’d go through it together.

—————————End Credit Scene————————-

Agatha tiredly wiped a thick layer of sweat off her forehead with a dirtied hand as she panted for air. She was one week into her amended life sentence, now removing any sort of self-pleasure from her incarceration. Periodically (as in at least every few minutes) she rubbed her caged crotch as if suddenly her chastity belt would be gone. No such luck so far. Even worse were Rio’s occasional touches, quick tappings against Agatha’s confinement between pickaxe swings when guards weren’t looking that left Agatha yearning for so much more.

She took another weak swing at the rocks in front of her…and then she felt the stroke of a tongue beneath the chastity belt. It came as an immediate shock to her touch-deprived womanhood. Faster this unseen force licked, edging Agatha along. It didn’t take long for the witch to come to the precipice of her first orgasm in an agonisingly long seven days…and then it stopped just before she came. Victoria Murdock, from her place in Limbo, was chained down and forced to do this through a portal. She wasn’t just a vintage Marvel cameo thrown in at the beginning of this story for the fun of it, but a vintage Marvel cameo added in for plot reason! Madelyn had chosen to butcher two birds with one knife, tormenting both the vehemently straight damned soul and the sexually fragile Agatha.

Agatha groaned in misery, hitting the cave wall in frustration…and then Victoria (under threat of red hot pokers) began again. Desperately, Agatha’s hands flew below in a frenzied, desperate, hopeless attempt to stop the oral... and then she was suddenly shocked through her collar for stopping her work.

“Pick up the pace, inmate” a guard chided. Agatha now faced the horrifying realisation that she was going to be edged for as long the belt remained on.

Chapter Text

“Alright let’s do this one last time. My name is Gwendolyn Poole. I’m not Gwen Stacy and I’m not Deadpool. We’re not variants. Those are entirely different characters who I bear absolutely no relation to. I can’t help the fact that my parents gave me a name that makes me sound like an amalgam character. I’m just your ordinary geeky girl whose hobbies include following the MCU, cosplay, comicbooks, and reading fanfiction. A few days ago this weird thing happened. And I mean, like, really weird because I was pulled into a fanfic. And not just any fanfic, but The Raft. Ever since arriving in this part of the multiverse I’ve had one thing on my mind; getting myself arrested (because what better way for a girl to finally lose her virginity than at the hands of horny locked up lesbians?). Only question is, how does a non-magic, non-mutant, totally normal person get sent to The Raft? Well for no reason other than sheer authorial laziness, I showed up wearing an outfit I was preparing for Comic-Con and that is a perfect way to pretend to be a super-criminal”

Enjoying the exhibits of the New York City Aquarium, Gwendolyn couldn’t help but notice the weird looks she received from every stranger she passed. Could it have been the duffle bag she was holding? The pink and white superhero costume she was wearing? The fake katanas on her back? Shaking the topic out of mind, she opened her bag and pulled two very real guns out and waved them in the air wildly. “Alright everyone, put your hands behind your knees, and get down on your head!”

Her demand was met with equally distributed reactions of terror, compliance and confusion. A little over half the room's occupants screamed and fled for the exits. Most of those who remained fell to their knees with their hands behind their heads, as they assumed she meant. A sizable minority simply raised their hands in surrender, while a few (literally three people) tried to assume the position she described with minimal success.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a robbery” Gwendolyn failed to reassure the terrified crowd. “Just stay still and no one will get hurt-” BANG! The sound of her accidental gunshot rang out and then there was a collective scream. “Oh shit sorry I thought the safety was on” she tried to sooth, sighing in relief that the gun was aimed at the ceiling when it went off.

Keeping one gun raised, she brought her attention down as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a smaller watertight plastic bag, scooping a few of the fish out of a tank and putting them in. Watching them swim in, she softly said: “In you go.”

Bag filled, she looked at the massive tank behind her, at the shark swimming inside, and said: “You’re next, big guy.”

Skipping over to the shark tank and gently touching the glass she kept her guns levelled at her hostages before turning her attention to the creature. “Ok I’m calling you Jeff. How am I gonna get you outta here, Jeff?” she asked. Failing to get a response she nodded. She genuinely was trying to figure out how to get a massive shark back into the ocean when museum security burst into the room. "Drop the weapon!" They yelled, pistols raised.

“I feel like you’re going to shoot me anyway” Gwendolyn replied, spinning around and proudly presenting the bag of fish. These being New York rent-a-cops, they were going to shoot in the next half second whether she obeyed them or not. Left with no other choice, she jumped and took cover behind the shark tank. It was a miracle none of the bullets hit her on the way. The same could not be said for the tank, which was struck by a dozen bullets before it shattered, spilling gallons of water and the shark onto the various surrendered hostages and the security guards. All were disoriented, civilian, cop and sea-creature alike. As for Gwendolyn, she was completely horrified. “Holy shit! You killed Jeff!” she screamed, heartbroken. That definitely wasn’t part of her plan. To be fair, it was a plan drawn in crayon.

In the complete chaos that had broken out in the aquarium, Gwendolyn pulled a little white flag out of her bag and waved it from her cover spot. Unfortunately, her flag was ignored for a bit, then a bullet was shot through it. Apparently, New York cops are about as unhinged in this universe as they are in Earth 1.

“Traditionally a white flag is a symbol of surrender!” She shouted over the sound of gunfire. “Geez. Try to rescue a few fish and you get shot at” she added, not really phased by anything that was happening. She was pretty confident she wouldn’t die given the nature of the story she was in.

The cops began to move around her cover. As things stood at the moment, she was looking at the women's wing of Ryker's Island. Not exactly the sapphic-superhero fest of The Raft that she wanted. “I should probably warn you that I’m a mutant and if you come over here I will create an explosion large enough to level the place” she improvised. Despite the odds, it worked because it gave the officers pause. They glanced at each other, not sure what to do.

“Why are you standing there? Go call your local superhero!” Gwendolyn demanded. “Preferably one with a no-kill rule”

"This does kinda seem like Amphibian's turf..." Said one of the officer’s to another.

“The fish fucker? Pass!” Gwendolyn paused to consider who would be preferable. “If we’re going with members of The Seven, can it be Moonstone?”

One of the cops tilted his head. "The Seven?"

Gwendolyn sighed. Was it still a Freudian slip if it was intentional? “The Squadron”

"Uh...look." One of them said. "If you give us the guns and the swords, and come quietly outside to the car, we'll see what we can do about a chat with Moonstone, or maybe Thunderstorm, okay?"

All Gwendolyn had to say was “send them now or the place blows” and they scattered like flies. She was in no mood to bargain for anything less than the full arrested by a superhero treatment. Once the doors were closed and she was in the ruined remains of the aquarium alone, she sat down and waited patiently by making sounds while aiming her guns at the wall.

A few minutes passed before a superhero arrived. Emerging from the stairway above, electricity buzzing about her, long black cape swaying, and raw bloodlust in her eyes, Thunderstorm was in no mood for games.

“Hiya” Gwendolyn waved cheerily, hopping to her feet.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Thunderstorm asked, nonplussed. The woman she saw before her was blonde haired and blue eyed...and that gave Thunderstorm pause from what she had planned to be an immediate kill. She wasn’t just any disturbed person with some superpowers who’d managed to gain a place on The Squadron, but an actual nazi.

“First name: Gwendolyn. Last name: Poole. Please don’t combine them” Gwendolyn replied.

Thunderstorm raised her right hand, buzzing with purple coloured lightning. "Only on your tombstone."

“Woah! Ok look, seductive Lord of Thunder, I’m a huge fan…” she wasn’t “…and I just really wanted to meet you. PS: I’m not even a mutant so the explosion threat was a total lie!”

"Not even a mutant..." Thunderstorm said with a faux pout. "...Apart from your aryan features, I have no reason to show restraint. And the features alone aren't enough, so..."

That was when Moonstone smashed the doors down just as Thunderstorm was about to disintegrate Gwendolyn, raising her hands and shining moonlight in photogenic superhero style. "In the name of the moon, you're under arrest!"

"Schweinhund..." Thunderstorm muttered too quietly to be heard except by those with fourth wall breaking powers.

As annoyed as Thunderstorm was, Gwendolyn was beaming as she was blinded by a flash of Moonstone’s weird light powers. “Finally!” she exclaimed.“I thought your friend was about to kill me”

Moonstone looked momentarily confused as to why she would think that but she didn't get distracted. "You surrender?"

Gwendolyn mimed deeply reflecting on her answer, raising her fingers to her chin. “Well am I going to The Raft if I do?”

Moonstone hesitated, assuming the answer any sane reasonable person would want was no. The only issue was that she wasn’t currently dealing with a sane reasonable person. Instead she had whatever Gwendolyn was. "You'll get a fair trial..."

Gwendolyn didn’t look all that happy with that answer, crossing her arms and making a sort of petulant pout. It didn’t seem like it was going to go her way unless she came up with something fast. “I- I’m…I’m a psychic! Yeah I know S.W.O.R.D has been negotiating with the Kree Empire. I can also name several high top secret ranking security officials at The Raft. Oh and I know you guys killed Vision!” She named a few things learned from reading the chapters and the timeline.

Moonstone paused, confused on two fronts. Firstly, she was still under the assumption that The Raft was something the girl wanted to avoid. Secondly, she knew nothing about the Kree negotiations or the death of Vision, but Thunderstorm did and reacted in a way that wasn’t too extreme for the situation at all. She put a hand around Gwendolyn’s throat and pulled her into the air. "How the fuck do you know all that? And don't tell me it's psychic powers, because you told me yourself you're no mutant."

“Chokehold-play? Kinky” Gwendolyn weakly quipped while gagging from the feeling of the hand around her throat. “I can be a psychic but not a mutant. I did years one through eight at the Kamar-Taj school of witchcraft and wizardry.”

"Cute." Thunderstorm said joylessly, her eyes burning with barely contained homicidal urges.

“Believe me when I say that I really hate to prove Alan Moore right, but you’re givin’ off some real fascist vibes if I’m being honest” Gwendolyn remarked to Thunderstorm, knowing what it would mean to her.

Thunderstorm paused, her eyes widening as she tried to figure out how Gwendolyn knew her secret. She let go of the criminal’s throat. Moonstone was currently confused by a different topic, which she verbalised by asking: “Who’s Alan Moore?” while going about taking Gwen’s guns and swords, and cuffing her hands behind her.

“Long story” Gwen gave a shrug while eagerly submitting to being cuffed. “I don’t think these are tight enough.” Moonstone, not sure how to reply to that, simply pulled them slightly tighter.

“Thank you” Gwen said sweetly. “So am I going on trial or can we just skip straight to prison?”

—————————————————————

“I guess straight to prison it is” Gwendolyn grinned, knowing a trial scene would be cut from this chapter for the sake of pacing. She probably could have gotten a lengthy-yet-reasonable sentence of a decade at Ryker’s Island if she’d kept her mouth shut. Instead, she was given an indefinite sentence at The Raft under the International Security and Secrecy Resolution because she chose to antagonise the S.W.O.R.D Tribunal by repeatedly sharing various top-secret things she knew.

The jet landed, the boarding ramp descended, and Officer Renee Winters climbed aboard to greet the new arrival. "Welcome to The Raft, inmate” she said with the kind of big smile that usually terrified new girls…which means it had the opposite effect on Gwendolyn.

“You’re…You’re Renee Winters!” Gwendolyn exclaimed. “Huh I thought you’d be less Abella Danger and more…well just someone else”

Renee blinked. "I...How do you know who I am? And who's Abella Danger?"

“Oh uh…um she’s a…porn star” Gwendolyn blushed.

Renee’s eyes narrowed, unimpressed. She pulled Gwendolyn up from her seat, and directed her towards the search room with a smack to the ass. The guard (naively) hoped that Gwen would shut up for the rest of the short walk. Unfortunately for Renee, silence was not Gwendolyn’s strong suit. “So who was your favourite inmate to search? Was it Julia? Do you specifically look for big tittied women to claim, or are you just really lucky? Do you sleep here? Am I asking too many questions?”

"I'm not answering any of those first three. Yes, guards quarters are in an annex to the Raft facility, and yes, you are” Renee responded with slight annoyance.

Gwendolyn gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry…I’ll shut up…or you could make me…” Her offer was met with no response.

They arrived at the search room and Renee closed the door behind them. Without any delay, the guard bluntly ordered firmly: "Alright, strip. Take off each item, one at a time, and hand them to me."

Gwen spun around to face her, dramatically making a show of thrusting her hands back on the table as she fluidly lowered to her knees. Her flare for the dramatic was both out of excitement and because her sexual knowledge came primarily from a very unrealistic source.

Frowning at the fact that her proposition was ignored, Gwendolyn still obediently nodded and took her place in the center of the room where she began to undress. She hadn't even taken off her boots yet and already this all felt so surreal to the geeky virgin. For the first time, she was about to actually be undressed in front of another person…like sexually.

First she did away with her boots and socks, then her belt and her harness which held her fake katanas. She was awkwardly attempting to make it a sort of striptease. Turning her back towards Renee, she bended forwards while she undid her thigh-holsters but she’d completely forgotten how unforgiving this costume really was. The simple act of bending over made it ride up some very uncomfortable spots that promptly made Gwendolyn decide to quit the show and just rush through the process. After fumbling to take off the leotard, she spun around. “Ta-da!” Gwendolyn announced, unhooking her bra. But her upbeat dorky demeanour began to collapse to despondance as she watched Renee’s stoic look over her almost naked body. The lacklustre reception lasted only a few seconds before Renee cracked a smile and laughed at her nerdy cuteness. "You're pretty eager huh..."

“You could say that” Gwendolyn said coyly.

“You seem to know a lot about this place, and I'm gonna ask about that later, but for now, I assume it means you know what comes next."

“Of course! It’s only like the best part…well at least in the top 3” Gwendolyn exclaimed, pulling her underwear down and kicking them aside.

"Up on the table." Renee ordered, snapping on latex gloves.

“Who knew the snap of latex gloves could be such a turn on!” Gwendolyn said while assuming position at the table, bending forward with a wiggle of her pasty ass.

"Turn on, huh? So I guess you've already lubed yourself..." Renee confirmed it with her fingers. Letting out a premature moan, Gwendolyn seemed like she was metaphorically ready to cum at first touch.

“I’ve never really had anyone else’s hand…down there…” Gwendolyn explained. She moaned at every little touch of Renee’s wandering finger during the search. It wasn’t even necessarily invasive yet, at least not by Raft standards. She considered losing her virginity as being brought to climax by another and here she was about to finally accomplish it. “Oh wow…It’s…mmm…so different when it’s someone else’s fingers” the fangirl said between adorable little gasps as Renee moved her fingers in and out gently, rubbing her clit with her thumb.

Abruptly, Gwendolyn felt Renee’s decreasing tempo. Slowed down, but not stopped entirely. Renee wanted her to beg. “W-What are you doing?” she asked innocently

"Well, you don't seem to be hiding anything..." Renee said with a smirk.

Gwendolyn figured out what the guard wanted. “Pleeeease will you let me cum?” she pleaded

"Why?" Renee asked, teasingly "What's in it for me?"

Gwendolyn thought over what she could offer but the answer was pretty obvious. “I’ll do literally anything you want” why narrow it down to something specific when she could surprise herself?

"Based on what you've said so far, I'm guessing you've never eaten pussy before?" Renee questioned.

“Well I’ve fantasised about it if that counts”

"It doesn't." Renee said flatly. "But you'll get plenty of experience in here. So, you eat me out after your search, and I let you orgasm...after I do. Deal?'

“Not the mutually assured climax deal! I’m so in!” Gwendolyn said over-enthusiastically.

Officer Renee withdrew her gloved fingers and wordlessly began applying lubricant to them. Once done, she pressed her fingers against the tight little pucker of Gwendolyn’s butt, and slowly pushed her way in. Usually, she would be rougher, but between Gwendolyn’s youth and cute demeanour, she went easy.

Gwendolyn leaned forwards against the table with a surprised squeak as Renee’s finger pushed in. It wasn’t the act itself that surprised her, she knew it was coming, but it hurt more than she expected. There was something deeply uncomfortable about being probed without any power to object…and that made it so much better.

Renee continued to twist her fingers around inside Gwendolyn and watch her squirm for a few minutes before withdrawing her fingers. "Okay, on your feet." she ordered. "And then on your knees."

“Best day of my life for real” Gwendolyn grinned, spinning around to face Renee, dramatically making a show of thrusting her hands back on the table as she fluidly lowered to her knees. Gwendolyn’s flare for the dramatic was both out of excitement and because her sexual knowledge wholly came from porn.

Renee pulled down her uniform pants, sat on the table and waited for her manic-pixie-dream-inmate to get to work.

“Manic-pixie-dream-inmate is a bit reductive” Gwendolyn said without any clear context as to why.

Renee’s eyes widened at that. "Telepath?" she wondered aloud.

“I wish! That’s definitely the second best superpowers to have. Luck, telepathy, and reality manipulation. Those are my top three…what were we doing again?”

"You were eating me out, assuming you still want to orgasm."

“Oh yeah…ok I’m on it!” Gwen leaned in close, pressing her lips against her labia in a sort of tender kiss before she pushed tongue out and began to sloppily lick in quick passes.

Seeing Gwendolyn’s inexperience shine through, Renee rolled her eyes and grabbed Gwendolyn’s head, moving it into a position better suited to her pleasure. "Start by licking my clit" she advised. Gwen nodded from her place between Renee’s thighs.

"Okay...that's good..." Renee said, breathing heavier, and talking her through the next steps. This was going to be a long process…

Without wanting to get IKEA-erotica about Gwendolyn’s first clumsy attempt at cunnilingus, to say she needed some coaching from Renee would be an understatement. Her methods were about as messy (and not in the fun way) as one could expect. Over a long while, a lot of instructions, misinterpretations and slow improvement, Renee was able to come to a fairly weak orgasm, more from the excitement of the beautiful blonde at her feet than from her skill. "Okay, up. You're gonna have to get better at that in here."

“Sorry…” Gwendolyn apologised, blushing. She knew she would need to get a lot better before she could fulfil her dream of being dominated by Scarlett Johansson. Rising to a stand and wiping her mouth clean, she added: “I’ll definitely learn. Sooooo is it my turn now?”

"That performance didn't earn you an orgasm. Take it as an incentive to get better." Renee stood to go print her mugshot sign. The machine worked remarkably fast because Renee returned not a minute later with a sign that read:

INMATE #S3X-2015
POOLE, GWENDOLYN
LIFE

"Go stand in front of the height display."

Gwendolyn paused to marvel at her sign, looking way too thrilled to read that she had a life sentence. Suddenly she had another idea and, of course, she shot up and expressed it. “Weaver should take my mugshots! Afterwards, we could have a ménage à three!”

"...You mean trois." Renee said. "And I'm pretty sure Weaver is busy right now, though I'm sure she'll want to take her own pictures of you later. Stand in front of the display."

Gwendolyn stood in front of the height chart. “Busy? Oooooo She’s making She-Hulk jump rope, isn’t she?”

"...Seriously, how do you know all this shit?" Renee asked. Gwendolyn’s seemingly limitless knowledge of Raft secrets was becoming more and more bewildering. Bewildering enough that she couldn’t help but ponder it as she fetched a camera.

Not answering her question, Gwendolyn struck a pose. The sign was held to her stomach, the place where it would conceal the least of her body. Tilting her head to the right, she flashed an earnest cheshire smile that better resembled that of someone at their wedding than someone about to be doing life in prison. “Wait no”

She moved into a different position. Her left arm rested to the side while the right flippantly held the sign away from her body. She proceeded to switch between how she wanted to pose a few times before returning to the second idea. Renee took the first picture, quietly impressed by Gwendolyn’s commitment to presentation. "Turn to the right please”

Gwendolyn twirled to the right and threw her head back, perfectly recreating the Ken mugshot meme.

Renee couldn’t help but actually chuckle at that. "And to the left"

Gwendolyn spun to the left. “I call this one my Blue Steel” she faced her head towards the camera and pursed her lips, expressing her inner Dean Winchester.

"Part of the point here is to get a profile of your face." Renee pointed out, though she did also take a picture of 'blue steel' before insisting Gwendolyn turn her head in profile.

“Huh…I never really thought about why they do pictures from the side” Gwendolyn remarked, obeying now that she’d gotten the impromptu modelling out of her system. The final shot was taken and then Renee handed her a folded orange jumpsuit.

“This is soooo dehumanising. I love it! Even the underwear!” Gwendolyn held up the pair, turning it to show the words stamped over the back. “PROPERTY OF THE RAFT” they said, coldly, dispassionately referring both to the underwear and Gwendolyn. She felt honoured to have the cheap material on her body.

—————————————————————

No one in The Raft’s history had ever looked as chuffed at being led down a cellblock of jeering, mocking, and overall quite horny inmates as Gwendolyn did. Why shouldn’t she be happy? Afterall, she was now one step closer to sleeping her way through characters portrayed by some of the hottest actresses in Hollywood. There was an unfakeable smile on the dork’s face that she wouldn’t have been able to hide even if she wanted to.

Clinging to the bars, the women around her were ecstatic to see a new defenceless cutie they could take turns passing around the showers. First to begin the customary calls was Sin who said: "I'm gonna use your face as a cushion, bitch!" The violently bigoted redhead thought Gwen was lovely, nice and aryan, though she thought the pink tips rather ‘ruined the girl’s purity’. The first order of business upon claiming her would have been forcing her to get a haircut.

“Ok but like how is that not the most lesbian shit ever?” Gwendolyn chipperly responded, finding the obvious hypocrisy hilarious. She was ready to play a game of ‘tease the bigot’ more, but Renee shoved her along and her attention-lacking brain was pulled to the next hot criminal ready to shove a bar of soap up her butt.

"What's your name, cutie?" Silver Sable asked, not rising from the bottom bunk where she was casually petting a naked Anya Corazon. Most women didn’t take questions like that literally, but of course Gwendolyn gave her name to the silver-haired mercenary before moving on.

Gwendolyn’s eyes darted all around the cellblock, attempting to catch as many Marvel women as she could possibly register. There was Sylvie, who wordlessly assessed her body as she passed. She-Hulk was notably absent from her cell but Gwen could tell it was hers due to the presence of Vanessa Kirby and Liv Tyler, as well as the single hulk-sized cot alongside the standard bunk-bed. Actually, the bed was probably the bigger giveaway. “The cell arrangements here change every chapter but I am all for it”

She was brought to a cell whose orange-clad occupant was lying on the top bunk. Winters unlocked Gwen’s cuffs and directed her inside with a smack on the ass that made the girl blush. Tossing her things down on the bottom bunk, Gwendolyn chirped: “Hiya! I’m going to be your new cellmate!”

The cheery hello was met with a rather unpleasant groan that was louder than the door rattling shut. The source behind the groan was none other than Laura Kinney, Project X-23 herself, who had been enjoying a well-earned nap after a day of mining and standing around looking like the perfect level of don’t-fuck-with-me for Jean Grey to use as a threat. Being something to intimidate whoever Jean wanted her to was most of X-23’s incarcerated life really. When she wasn’t having nightmares about the experiments done on her, dreams were the only solace she had in this place. Dreams which were now being interrupted by a very happy looking blonde girl.
Sitting up and looking down at who she’d been made to share her space with, Laura didn’t recognise the new girl at all. But didn’t mean much when she was never that familiar with superheroes or their villains on the outside. She could have been sharing a cell with a street-tier mutant or a world-ending super-being and she would have had no immediate way to tell.

It was Gwendolyn who initiated the introduction, beginning with an overly-hyped “Oh my god I’m in a cell with Laura Kinney! This can’t be happening! I’m Gwendolyn, your new roomie! Or cellmate to match the usual vibe of this place. I’ve gotta say that I wasn’t a big fan of the first two Deadpool movies because they were like so over-the-top meta, but Deadpool and Wolverine was absolutely amazing! Totally can’t wait to see you suit up. Anyways, you’re criminally underutilised in this series but I solemnly swear on Innocence Lost Issue #1 that I am absolutely gonna change that now that I’m here” Gwen did the work of introducing herself and Laura.

Hit with a word salad of things she didn’t understand a lick of, Laura’s best efforts to remain stoic failed. Movie? Story? Suit up? "What?" she asked flatly, to Gwendolyn’s statements in general rather than any particular part of it.

Gwendolyn bit her lip, understanding that she was definitely confusing. “Let’s start again. Hi, I’m Gwendolyn”

"And you already seem to know me." Laura said, dropping down from the top bunk. Her tone was filled with threatening intent, a sort of teetering possibility of disembowelment. "How'd that happen?

Gwendolyn knew she needed to play it cool. Noting that as long as she avoided talking about movies or comics for this scene she’d be fine. “I saw your movie” is what immediately fell out of her mouth followed by her mentally lecturing herself on her complete inability to have verbal control.

"What movie?" Laura asked, increasingly annoyed that her nap had been interrupted by a cellmate refusing to talk sense.

“I meant I…” Gwendolyn couldn’t come up with a good lie, her head having gone completely empty. The harder she tried to think the less cognizant her brain seemed to be. Even worse was the pressure as Laura began to growl softly. The geeky girl remembered the last chapter Laura was in, how she threatened to cut off Rogue’s clit over a minor misunderstanding, and she really didn't want that to happen. “I saw your file! Yeah, your file!”

"And how did you get access to that?" Laura was still very unimpressed.

“A guard” Gwendolyn shrugged, trying to play it off. “Y’know how poor the security is at this…top secret supermax prison…”

Laura rolled her eyes. "Okay. You're lying, but right this second, I don't care. The coffee in this place is homoeopathic even if you don't have a healing factor, and since I do, I'm basically always sleepy. So, I'm gonna go back to bed, and you're gonna be very, very quiet. If you aren't, I'm gonna play eeny-meeny-miny-mo with your bodily extremities, cut off whatever I land on, and make you eat it. Are we clear?"

“Homoeopathic? Why does a lab experiment know larger words than I do?” Gwendolyn questioned. She really knew how to focus on what was clearly the most important detail of what was said.

Laura growled again, this time the tip of her claws pushing out her knuckles as she did. The sight of the sharp blades made Gwendolyn’s eyes go wide with sudden terror. She knew her life was never in true mortal danger by virtue of being in an erotica, but she was in as much danger as could possibly exist without this being a snuff story. And this being The Raft, there was a lot that could happen before reaching the limit of gory deaths. “Yep we’re clear! We’re clear! My lips are sealed” She mimed, throwing away the key.

Laura nodded, "Good." She climbed back up to her bunk without another word, returning to her sometimes blissful sleep. Gwendolyn was left to somehow find a way to climb on to her bed without making the incredibly rickety bunk creak.

—————————————————————

On the morning of Gwenpool's first day in prison, she and her cellmate were herded with the other women of The Raft to the cafeteria for the usual morning provision of shitty coffee, porridge, over-toasted bread and a fruit of some kind (today it was an apple). But the food didn’t matter to Gwen, it was the sexy witch serving it. “It’s-It’s mother…uh I mean it’s Wanda! Laura, look it’s Wanda! I love you so much. I will kill for you” she said with an absolutely deranged fervor.

Wanda froze, lacking the words to properly respond to the overly enthusiastic new girl. She didn’t know whether she was flattered or embarrassed. “That isn’t necessary…”

“Jean. I’ll kill Jean” Gwendolyn offered.

A look of complete fear washed over Wanda’s sullen face as her eyes darted around to see if Jean was anywhere nearby. Things had been hard enough as it was, having Jean be paranoid that Wanda was plotting to kill her would only turn a living nightmare into Hell. “Take your food and go” Wanda violently insisted, forcing a knife to raise in the air. Deep down she was still the Scarlet Witch.

“Fuck…the whole dommy mommy thing totally turns me on. In for a bit of knife-play…or is it shiv-play in prison? Wait, I guess you’re threatening me with a knife right now so it is knife-play!”

The absurdity of the situation managed to overshadow Wanda’s ability to threaten. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, exasperated.

“I don’t know” Gwendolyn shrugged.

“Ugh! Quit holding the line up, bitch” Titania chimed in from the next spot back in the line. She wasn’t excited about the shit food they were served, but she hated waiting in lines.

Speaking of the food: It wasn’t what Gwen had expected. It didn’t look terrible, but it didn't really look good either. She was disappointed, but she was smart enough to hide her disappointment when Wanda served it. Walking out of earshot, she leaned in and whispered to X-23: “…Sooo is it always like this?”

Laura gave her cellmate an absolutely dead-eyed look, having tried to lose her on the way to the cafeteria, but Gwendolyn was far too persistent to be shaken off. "Always like what?"

“Not really edible…which I’m saying to the girl who grew up in a lab. Guessing you probably don’t have a lot of frame of reference on fine dining”

"No." Laura said flatly. "But even in the lab, the coffee was better than it is in this place." She yawned, as if to emphasise the point.

“How very Ratcatcher 2 of you” Gwendolyn smiled. “Which table do you normally sit at? I read that in prison most people sit with their gang but you seem more the lone wolf type”

Laura almost asked who the fuck 'Ratchatcher 2' was, but thought better of it. She really didn’t care to try and understand the complete nonsense the obnoxious new girl was saying. Every other word seemed to be something that made absolutely zero sense. "I sit wherever's empty. I like to eat alone." She was trying to very heavily hint that Gwendolyn should fuck off.

But this was Gwendolyn she was dealing with. Of course the girl completely missed the hint. “Really? Me too! Well I did in High School anyway. It was actually less voluntary and more no one ever wanted to sit with me…” Whether she was guilting Laura into letting her sit with her or she simply was just incredibly deaf to the mutant’s very apparent wish for her to leave was unclear.

Laura wanted to tell her to fuck off...but the anecdote was so pathetic as to give her pause. With a sigh she sat down and let Gwendolyn sit at her table, gulping down her coffee in one extended swig.

Gwendolyn placed herself opposite Laura, clumsily setting down her tray as she eyed the mutant with complete marvelment. Following her new friend’s lead, she took a sip of the coffee and…nope. Giving the bitterly vile drink a glare, she pushed it away. “Uh want my coffee?”

Without answering, Laura grabbed it from her hand and gulped the mug down, putting it back on her tray without so much as a thank you.

“You’re so…dominant. I LOVE it!” Gwendolyn exclaimed, watching her with awe. All she received was an absolutely weary look then Laura started eating her breakfast as if she hadn't said anything. Gwen followed suit, giving her thick porridge a slow stir as she debated whether or not she’d actually eat it. There was a blissful minute of silence for Laura before Gwen opened her mouth again. “So who have you slept with since arriving here?”

Laura nearly choked on her toast. "What the fuck kind of question is that?!”

“W-What’s wrong with what I asked?” Gwen asked, nervous yet innocent. The characters in the series always seemed pretty crass.

"It's not usually polite breakfast conversation." Laura replied, putting it mildly.

—————————————————————

Led in rows of groups bound together by heavy shackles around their ankles, the descent down into the mines was a tiring journey in itself (not yet even counting the sheer exhaustion the inmates would endure once the work actually started). Gwendolyn hadn’t much choice in what job she got, but she’d gotten what she wanted. Sure it seemed terrible, but that was part of the whole experience. Besides, what was hotter than being chained to a bunch of sweaty, mostly half-dressed, well-toned, women hard at work under duress of punishment.

From front to back the group consisted of: Jennifer Walters (not currently turned green), Sylvie Laufeydottir, Laura Kinney, and Gwendolyn herself.

”These chains are way heavier than I expected” Gwen groaned as they were forced to shuffle along down the tunnel, stumbling with every little step she took. Stumbling, of course, into Laura.

Laura grunted and shoved her away roughly. "What the fuck were you expecting? It's a chain gang."

Gwendolym hummed slowly in thought as she tried to think of an answer. “I don’t know. Guess I just thought they’d be lighter. Right now I feel like I might as well have one of those like old timey big ball and chains or something…” shooting her head up, she peered over Laura’s shoulder and called out to Jennifer Walters: “But I bet this isn’t usually a problem for you, big green and sexy”

Jennifer looked over her shoulder at the blonde, perplexed. "Sorry, have we met?"

“We haven’t. Hi, I’m Gwendolyn. Just got here last night. I’d shake your hand but I’m not Mr. Fantastic”

"Sure. Nice to meet you, Gwendolyn, but let's make introductions later." Jennifer said, looking forward again. She had no plans to ever attempt to get to know the creepy woman.

“She wants to make introductions later!” Gwen squealed in full fangirl delight to Laura in a pitch so shrill it caused Jennifer to start turning green. A change Gwendolyn picked up on and of course had commentary for. “Smart move. Hulking out since we’ll be doing hard labour and all”

The jolly green giantess looked around even more desperately for Weaver. She had to get off this chain. Unfortunately for Jenn, Weaver was currently in her office being eaten out by Cassie Lang and wouldn’t be down for a significant portion of time. Long enough at least for Gwen to test the bounds of the lawyer’s patience.

“I’ve always kind of fantasised about you, y’know. That ripped green body of yours just totally domming me…” Somehow Gwendolyn managed to come off more predatory than some of the usual predatory lesbians who would turn her out in seconds if given a chance (not that she would mind).

Jennifer didn’t really know how to answer that...usually it would have been with a threat, but she figured Gwen might like that. So she stayed quiet and hoped the creep would take the hint. But she was dealing with Gwendolyn and that meant any attempts at subtly saying no would fall on deaf ears.

Gwen in fact only made things worse. “Maybe Titania could join us! Get a bit of hatefucking action going. I read this fanfic about you two once and I think it really did something to me” she was just about to begin describing what she’d read when each of the women on the chain were handed their pickaxes. Jennifer had never been so happy to be given the tool before, taking it and swinging at the wall hoping the sound would drown out Gwen’s nonstop voice.

Next Sylvie and Laura both took theirs with a level of resign to the dreaded job. Meanwhile Gwendolyn could barely hold hers up. Every attempt to lift it ended in her nearly dropping it again. “Can I have a lighter one?” she asked the guard.

"Oh, a lighter one?" Officer Renee asked with what she thought was unmistakable sarcasm. "Sure, I'll get right on that. Would you like a regular coffee break and complimentary massage too?"

“Really? That would be great…you’re being sarcastic aren’t you?” Gwendolyn thankfully caught on before she completely embarrassed herself.

"Yes, now get to swinging." Renee delivered a hard smack to her ass before walking off. It was the third time she’d been spanked by Renee and the act still hadn’t lost its dominant charm.

Although not prepared at all for the job, Gwen took the first swing at the rocks in front of her. It went as well as one can expect when the force behind the pickaxe was her – her pick barely chipping the stone surface as she breathed heavily. She was by no means unhealthy, but she also wasn’t exactly the most athletically inclined individual. Back home she moved a few boxes and she was ready to take a nap. At this rate she would blackout before the hour was over. “This is actually so much harder than I thought. How does Darcy do this?!”

"She knows what will happen if she performs poorly. And you should too." Sylvie said ominously. Although a thin cloud of icy mist already enveloped her (the Frost Giant equivalent of sweating if you recall), she continued breaking away at stone at a tiring yet efficient pace. It was by no means what she envisioned for her life after killing He Who (No Longer) Remains, but it wasn’t the worst she’d had it in her many centuries on the run from the TVA.

Gwendolyn dramatically gulped, thinking to herself that Sylvie was incredibly threatening…in a hot kind of way. “What…will happen?” She asked through already heavy gasps for air.

Sylvie brushed a strand of golden-blonde hair off her face. "Keep swinging like that and you'll find out."

Taking a brief pause from her own work, Laura looked to Gwen. Annoyed at her own softness, the living weapon set down her axe and used her hands to correct the new girl’s stance. Body to body she adjusted her body for her. "Like this. Puts the strain on your back, not your arms, and you've got better leverage to swing, okay?"

Gwendolyn appreciatively followed her guidance, honoured to have Laura as her very own mining-mentor. “Thank you. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing here. I would have started practicing last week if I knew I’d be here but I don’t think most people plan on what would happen if they get dragged….” she caught herself rambling and was too tired to let it pour out so she returned to the initial statement. “Thank you”

"Don't thank me" Laura said in a tone that made it sound more like a 'tell anyone I was nice to you and you'll get hurt' than a 'think nothing of it.'

“Understood, bub” Gwendolyn saluted before turning her attention back to the job at hand. Giving it another go with the new method taught to her, she felt far more confident in her swing. Back straight and with a newfound energy she went all in…and promptly fell against the wall with the movement of her pickaxe. All Laura could do was hold the bridge of her nose and sigh.

“I’m ok” Gwendolyn said through a pained grin, stumbling back and trying to get her bearings while she gave a thumbs up as if to verify that she was alive. “I think my head broke the impact” The response she got from Laura was a simple eye-roll.

10 minutes later and Gwendolyn was a panting mess. While the others made varying levels of progress on their parts of the mine, She’d yet to do more than scrape at the walls. She couldn’t even muster the strength to lift the pickaxe over her head.

"Chop chop, blondie. At this rate, you ain't gonna meet your quota..." Renee chuckled. Her patrol route brought her back to this group and she couldn’t resist checking in on Gwen specifically.

“What’s my quota?” Gwendoly weakly asked, knowing full well she’d never reach it.

“20 kilograms per inmate per day." Renee said with a smirk. "I'd say at this rate, you'll be lucky to make one kilogram."

Gwendolyn made a long and miserable groan. The job wasn’t fun in a kinky way at all. In fact it actually really sucked. “Is there maybe a different way I could earn my keep around here?”

"There's a way…" Renee said, smirking as she looked the blonde up and down.

Without taking a single second to think over the decision, Gwendolyn gave Renee an audible sigh of relief. “Phew, I seriously thought I was going to black out for a minute there. Carrying that pickaxe is like trying to lift Mjölnir! I think it goes without saying that I’m so in!” Rarely did Renee get such an enthusiastic response. Unlocked from the chain, Gwendolyn was escorted away. But not before bidding farewell-for-now to her group with an overly friendly: “Bye, bitches!”

—————————————————————

“…and that is why Age of Ultron is actually kind of iconic” Gwen finished explaining her reasoning behind liking a movie that didn’t even exist in this universe. It was an in-depth enough analysis that it lasted the entire long walk from the mines to Winters’ office. The fangirl was aware Renee wouldn’t understand, but the events of the film presumably actually happened in this universe so it wouldn’t be complete nonsense. Plus she just kind of just missed discussing the MCU with people.

"...You realise that wasn't a movie right? That stuff actually happened." Renee uncuffed Gwen in the office. "I've heard of people thinking movies are real, but never the reverse..."

“Yeah but…oh…You probably think I’m totally out of my mind, don’t you?” Gwendolyn started undressing without being told, enthusiasm hopefully overshadowing her limited strip-tease skills.

"Yes." Renee said frankly. "But you're hot, so that does a lot to make up for it.”

“Cool! I pass the crazy/hot chart!” Gwendolyn proclaimed proudly as she turned her back and let her jumpsuit fall to the floor. Bending over, she shimmied her underwear down her dynamite legs before once again spinning around to face her dominant, slightly-rapey, most-definitely-predatory guard. “Face it tiger, you just hit the jackpot” she smiled, right hand on her hip and left running down her bare body.

Renee gave a weird look at the seemingly random line, and leaned against her desk, gracelessly pulling her pants and panties down to her knees. "I hope you've improved, given practice with your cellmate."

One very coached and messy round of oral later, and Gwendolyn was off work for the rest of the day. But she would have to wait in her cell until everyone else got off (work))…and it was a long, boring few hours of waiting that she passed by rummaging through Laura’s few belongings. It turned out prison life could actually be really uneventful at times…but she had a way of making up for it. It was around 3 when everyone got back from the mines and she immediately darted out of her cell with a plan in mind. “Alright, readers, here we go! If this was in live-action it would be time to needledrop ‘Like a Virgin’ right now because this is about to be a kinky AF. Cue the montage!”

—————————————————————

Cassie Lang and Amy Bendix sat on a bench in the yard catching up on their vastly different experiences with incarceration. It had been awhile since they’d hung out, Amy being busy doing things for the Stepford Cuckoos and Cassie spending most of her days being Maya Lopez’ favourite toy.

“This fucking sucks” Amy pouted, arms crossed in not-so-subtle annoyance.

“Yeah…” Cassie nervously looked around to make sure her prison mommy was nowhere nearby. She was terrified of ending up on her bad side. “...Maya shoved her prosthetic leg up my butt yesterday”

Amy found that worrying…but not for the reason most would. “Why do you gotta rub it in? It’s taking way too long for that shit to happen to me!” she practically was salivating at the idea.

Cassie shifted with discomfort, constantly put at unease with her friend’s overt horniness but not wanting to push away the only person who didn’t try to sexually assault her. “Oh…uh…I’m sorry?” she didn’t really know what else to say. Thankfully the conversation would be abruptly interrupted. Less thankfully, the person interrupting was Gwendolyn.

Sauntering over with completely unearned confidence, Gwen frantically waved at the protagonists of Caged Lang. “Hi, I’m Gwen! Wanna have a threesome?” She slipped right past the foreplay.

“Yes!” Amy immediately exclaimed, practically jumping out of her seat before remembering that the Cuckoos had told her she was forbidden from sleeping with anyone if she wanted that job interview with Emma Frost. “I-I mean no” she fell back on the bench with a sigh.

Gwendolyn’s smile didn’t falter. “Alright…fine. You’re only gonna miss out on the most amazing experience ever! But not gonna lie, I would probably skip me too if it meant I got to be The White Queen’s bitch” She understood, but the sting of being turned down was definitely there, “What about you, Lisa Frankenstein?”

Cassie looked around in confusion at who that could be, expecting there to be some terrifying monster nearby that she totally missed. When she could find no one around, she realised Gwen must have meant her and instantly registered it as a jab at her appearance. Did she look pale or scary because of her prison time or something? “Me?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Mhm that’s right, baby” even Gwendolyn felt awkward about that one but she really wanted to sound dominant and cool.

Cassie blushed, breaking eye-contact. “Oh…I…um…I don’t think Maya would be ok with that. S-She’s very protective”

“Who says Maya has to know? I bet she’s not even in this story!” Gwendolyn pressed…just before feeling someone walking up behind her. “...She’s right behind me isn’t she?” She pulled a cliche, slowly turning around to see a very upset looking Maya cracking her knuckles.

—————————————————————

Jessica Jones finished up a round of weightlifting in the yard, and took a knee, exhausted. Say what you want about prison, but it was a hell of a place to work on muscle definition.

“Lifting weights? You really are a functional alcoholic” Gwendolyn quipped, seemingly coming out of nowhere just to sit beside her. Her nose was bleeding but she didn't act like she just got punched in the face by one of Vanessa Fisk’s top enforcers.

Jessica squinted at the newcomer, perplexed by her extremely weird introduction. "How the fuck do you know about that?" she asked, pointedly, in a direct and hostile tone not at all matching Gwen’s bubbly and conversational one.

“Well…you just have that vibe?” the fangirl managed to find a worse answer than simply saying she’d seen her show.

Jessica stood up, and cracked her neck from side to side, in a way that was supposed to convey 'fuck off or you're going to get hurt.'

Gwendolyn chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I’ve come to bargain. I’ll get you booze…if you sleep with me”

Jessica grabbed her with both fists by her hair and pulled her down, driving her knee into Gwendolyn’s stomach, letting her collapse winded to the floor. Jessica then simply walked away, not looking back at her.

—————————————————————

Kate Bishop didn’t understand how Yelena’s cell was this cluttered. It wasn’t dirty, and there wasn’t even that much stuff, but there was absolutely 0 organisation. For example: Her toothbrush was on a chair but her underwear on the sink. The erratic disorganisation of their tiny cell was a far cry from Kate’s NYC apartment. Not really wanting to leave their cell without her scary Russian assassin friend around to protect her, the archer was bored enough to start straightening up. First just putting the packs of cigarettes into a single pile, then folding her blankets. The aforementioned underwear she took and threw on her bed, making a brief game of getting it to hit an imaginary bullseye on the wall.

"Hey!" Gwendolyn said with her usual lack of tact from the open cell door, again seeming to appear from nowhere. She’d managed to stem the nosebleed, but was now standing awkwardly as her stomach still hurt. It was definitely going to bruise.

“Hi. Who are you?” Kate asked, perplexed and startled by the newcomer. She noted that the cheery blonde girl looked pretty harmless at least.

"I'm Gwen!" she said cheerfully, entering the cell without invitation. "No need to introduce yourself, I know you already. I loved you in the main Raft series, and Hawkeye, and Spiderverse, actually..." It occurred to her that Gwen Stacy was also in this universe, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether she sounded like Hailee Steinfeld or looked like Emma Stone, or both?

Kate didn’t understand most of what she just said but smiled out of politeness. “You know who I am?” She sounded almost as enthusiastic as Gwen. The archer finally had her first fan! Who would have thought her superhero career would start to take off in prison.

"Yes!" At her first enthusiastic response, Gwen got a little too enthusiastic herself. "So, wanna fuck?!"

Kate’s rising enthusiasm collapsed to a complete stop, her smile sort of pausing somewhere on the way to a frown. It took her a minute to fully register what Gwendolyn just said. “You want to…you want to sleep with me?” she asked slowly, just making sure she heard her correctly.

"Yeah!" Gwen was grinning and wide eyed in an unintentionally flawless Laina Morris impression.

Kate started to stutter for a response but Yelena arrived in time to handle things. Having heard enough, Yelena grabbed the blonde from behind, and threw her roughly to the bottom bunk. Hurriedly, Yelena stripped out of her jumpsuit.

“Wow…” Gwen said breathily as she looked up at the Black Widow assassin. She’d always wanted it rough. Or just wanted it at all really. “I totally thought you would turn me down so you weren’t even on my list. Funny how this turned out”

“What’s happening?” Kate asked aloud, confused by the absurdity of the last minute.

"Our guest needs a lesson in manners." Yelena said to Kate.

“That is one PAWG booty” is the last thing Gwen uttered before Yelena leaped onto her, planting her ass firmly on her mouth.

"Get licking if you want to get up." Yelena commanded but Gwen didn’t need to be told before she started acting. She completely missed that this was meant to be a punishment.

—————————————————————

Cassandra Webb was on her way back towards the cellblock, wearing her orange web-dress (It was weird how used to constant practical nudity she’d become in here. Not bad, but weird). She was smiling, in high spirits after a pleasant photoshoot with Weaver.

Fear not because Gwen was here to crush those high spirits. “Cute dress!” she called, running down the cellblock towards her. “I know a few moves that could make you blush fifty shades of pink” she flirted, out of breath by the time she finally reached her.

"Huh?!" Cassandra responded, alarmed at this strange blonde running at her and grinning. "Fifty wha-" Before she could finish the question she had a vision. It felt different from her other ones, like she wasn’t seeing the future, or a possible future, but something else entirely. She could see herself (or someone who looked a lot like her) on a cinema screen...interacting with an intense looking hot guy in a suit...staring at him...talking over a contract...getting tied up naked and spanked…
Coming back to her world, Cassandra exclaimed: “...What the fuck was that?”

“Yeah you and me both sister. I don’t know what that was…” Gwen sounded equally surprised, only aware of what Cassandra saw because the prose above this paragraph said it. “Buuuut now that you know about that, I think I can do that to you” She had no experience with bondage but she figured she could probably improvise.

They were close enough to Elektra’s cell that she heard this exchange. The only rational response was grabbing Gwen by the hair from behind, and dragging her in. "Faiza, hand me a bar of soap." She was referring to Dr. Faiza Hussain (previously seen in Visiting Hours), now inexplicably an inmate. The good doctor hesitated but knew to give in to her mommy’s demands.

“Ow ow. Wait I think I’m supposed to drop that and then we do this” Gwen wisecracked through the pain of her hair being pulled by the root. Effortlessly Elektra stripped her out of her jumpsuit, not bothering to disabuse her of her idea of what was happening. For what it was worth, Gwen was not bothered by being stripped naked (that’s something she wanted). What bothered her was the glaring plot inconsistency in Faiza’s presence. “Ok I know this is porn so I can’t expect full commitment to canon, but why are you here? I thought you were the head doctor?”

Faiza looked at her, perplexed. "Wha...Do I know you?" She asked. Considering Gwen was a new prisoner, Faiza was surprised she knew the position she used to hold.

“That chapter came out a few months ago! Are you telling me that you’re- AHHHH!“ Gwendolyn’s building rant was cut short as Elektra spun her around, bent her over, and unceremoniously shoved the unlubed bar of soap up her ass.

—————————————————————

Anya Corazon stepped into Silver Sable’s cell with a sense of complete euphoria. She’d just come back from Shuri and Riri’s cell and words couldn’t possibly begin to describe how free she felt (ironic considering where she was). Getting spanked while eating out a princess was not what she’d expected from prison. Upon entry, she found Sable still away, and Gwendolyn present and waving with a giddy smile. "Hi!" the geek said. "You must be Anya, right? Loved your parts of Incompetent Heroines, your lesbian awakening was really cute and hot!"

“Who are you? You’re not here to kill me are you? Sable is away right now but I’ll tell you anything you want to know” Anya panicked at the crazy person in her cell, meaning she didn't really register what Gwendolyn had said.

"Huh? No, I don't wanna kill you, I wanna have sex." Gwendolyn said, still grinning but slowing down a beat.

“Oh” Anya exhaled in relief. “Ok sure”

Gwendolyn’s eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, then, realising how that sounded, corrected herself. "Great! Uh...So shall we start with a kiss?'

“I’m kind of new to kissing other women…but yeah I would like that” Anya felt very self-conscious about the fact that she was new to the gay scene and this woman was presumably experienced. She of course presumed incorrectly, but she didn’t know that. Without hesitation, Gwendolyn stepped forward, leaned in and kissed her, her hands going to her thighs, then her ass, letting Anya’s tongue into her mouth. The makeout session then escalated as Anya began undoing her jumpsuit. Although she was wholeheartedly into it, the moment was brought to a screeching halt when Silver Sable returned.

Freshly returned from the gym, Sable was as imposing as ever as she stared daggers at both of them, settling on Gwen. "Who the fuck are you?"

“I’m Gwen. Want to join us?” She completely lacked the self-preservation skills to navigate this situation well and Sable wasn’t forgiving. In a flash Gwen was bent over the toilet, her jumpsuit around her knees, with Sable shoving a broken-off chairleg up her ass.

—————————————————————

It wasn’t until Gwendolyn reached the bathrooms adjoining the yard that she worked up the courage to painfully remove the chairleg, squirming with every slight movement it made on the way out. It was like ripping off a bandaid but 1000x times worse.

Mattie Franklin exited a cubicle and went to wash her hands moments before Gwen got it done. She washed her hands and face, blissfully unaware of what was to happen. Looking up from the sink, she saw Gwendolyn standing uncomfortably close behind her in the mirror, a pained yet still unnerving smile painted on the fangirl’s face. “How about we show that cubicle who’s boss, Itapo?”

"Huh?!" Mattie asked with some alarm. "Uh, sorry...who are you? And where did you hear that nickname?'

“Gwen. And I heard it on Tik Tok” She knew for a fact that it was a lie that actually made sense in this universe. “You’re famous”

Mattie sighed. "Of course." she said, annoyed. "So...what was that about the cubicle?"

“Oh you know…just was thinking we could fuck like the two desperate incarcerated women we are” Gwendolyn replied crassly.

"Uh...You're...Very direct." Mattie remarked, looking her up and down. "That ain't a no, but I'm not sure I can without my Mommy's permission..."

“I’ll be right back!” Gwendolyn beamed, running out into the yard again and finding Vanessa. Walking up to the mob wife, she proposed: “Hiya! Can I screw Mattie Franklin?”

Mattie had tried to stop Gwendolyn but she was too late. Vanessa was already halfway deep with a guard’s stolen baton up Gwendolyn’s very sore butt.

—————————————————————

Julia failed to hide her visible disgust as she lapped away at Olivia Octavius’ pussy. Olivia was the fifth person today she’d been forced into having sex with and the poor incarcerated straight girl just wanted it to stop.

"Hey!" Gwendolyn said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere like a ninja with no social skills. "DeeDee, right? I mean, that's kinda rhetorical, I'd recognise Sydney Sweeney anywhere. Your rack is just as magnificent in person!" She was so excited that she didn’t even really notice that Julia’s mouth was otherwise preoccupied at the moment.

“Y-Yes…that’s me” Julia answered between unskilled licks at her prison mommy’s clit. She was really tired of how much attention her breasts had gotten her in prison. As much as she hated it, she was so used to the attention that she didn’t bother seeing who this new person was. Scary lesbians were always coming up and wanting to touch them; what was different about it this time? Her DD melons were seemingly irresistible to the horny women that constantly surrounded her.

Gwendolyn’s interest was no different. "So, uh...Not to be too forward or anything, but...can I rub my face on them?!"

Julia closed her eyes as she tried to suppress her horror at what her life had come to. “O-Ok…I guess” she managed to force herself to say out of fear of what could happen if she said no. With an ear-to-ear smile on Gwen’s face, she bended over and buried her face in Julia's enormous, firm tits, shaking her face between them. It was all the horny dork had hoped for and more.

Olivia allowed this semi-amusing spectacle to go on for a minute before tapping the interloper on the shoulder with a tentacle. Mere seconds later, Gwen was naked, her hands held firmly together by one of Olivia’s tentacles, her legs held wide apart by two more tentacles, while the fourth tentacle penetrated her arse. Gwendolyn couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, and was completely helpless to the whims of a mad scientist — aka the dream. It was just like the extensive amount of Olivia Octavius tentacle porn she’d read…but painful. Really fucking painful. “Ok enough! AHH! Stop!”

"What have you learned about using my bitch without paying?" Olivia asked with sadism in her tone.

“N-Not to rub my face on her big titties?”

That answer was met with Olivia pressing her tentacle in further, about as far as she thought Gwendolyn could handle without literally causing her to pass out from the pain.

—————————————————————

Kitty Pryde nestled close and smiled awkwardly at Rogue. “You, me, pretty sure Illyana is out tormenting someone else for once. Maybe we could like…y’know…o-or you can just glare uncomfortably-” she watched Rogue’s flat expression very closely, trying her best to read the goth mutant’s mood.

She didn’t have to attempt to read Rogue’s reaction for long though because the goth gave an excitedly cold command in her Southern accent that made Kitty beam even wider. “On your back. We have ten minutes-” The screams of Dani and Rahne echoed from down the cellblock. “-make that twenty.” They so very rarely got a moment just to themselves

Now was not that moment as Gwen approached the cell, walking awkwardly after her succession of anal insertions, and stopped at the door as she saw what they were doing. "Wow..." she said, unintentionally loud enough to be heard. She was in awe of the hot sight before her.

On top of Kitty and having just peeled open her jumpsuit, Rogue sighed as they were once again interrupted. “Every time…” It took a considerable amount of effort to pry her eyes away from her girlfriend to look at who the intruder was.

Meanwhile, Kitty froze in a sudden panic, feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Um…like who are you?” she nervously asked.

"Hi! I'm Gwen. No need to introduce yourself, I know all about you. I see you look like your X-Men Evolution versions. I used to love that cartoon! Seriously, Wanda in that was one of my several lesbian awakenings. Probably smart not to model you on your live action selves, given the whole trans actor thing. Anyway, wanna make this a threesome?!" she bound into the cell with the self awareness and pattern recognition of a lemming with a severe head injury. Although she didn’t say it outright, Gwen was half-hoping Kitty to be transmasc. It would have contradicted the Kitty established in this series so far, but nonetheless Gwen thought it could have added a very interesting element.

“…Trans actor?” Kitty asked, not understanding what Gwen was saying exactly but inferring just enough to wonder if she meant her or Rogue.

Rogue though didn’t care what was being said. She just wanted to sleep with her girlfriend and Gwen was interrupting that. She got up and looked at Gwen with a scornful glare but she didn't yet approach. “Sure we can have a threesome…if you wanna feel like you’re being flayed alive”

Gwendolyn hesitated at the threat. She’d seen enough X-Men media to know that she wasn’t bluffing, and getting touched by Rogue wasn’t something she wanted. "Uh...no, I kinda don't want that. It's okay, though, you can watch me and Kitty! That'll be its own kind of hot."

Rogue was not about to be cucked…again. Personally, she was ready to remove Gwen by force, but simply crossed her arms and let Kitty give her one last chance to leave.

“Woah I didn’t like agree to anything…can you y’know…get out?” Kitty tried to turn her down gently but she was more than a little caught off guard by her presence.

"Huh...Oh, yeah, sorry, I moved a little too fast there, didn't I. Could we...uh...start over?"

Against her better judgment, Kitty nodded. “Yeah…I guess”

"I...uh...you don't know me, but I know a lot about you. It's kinda my super-power. I spent...I mean...It feels like I've spent my whole life watching you through a screen. I think you're really pretty, and cool, and pretty, and powerful and pretty...and I'd...quite like to have wild lesbian prison sex with you...if you'd like to with me..." Gwendolyn sounded the most sincere she had in here.

“I um like appreciate your enthusiasm, y’know …but we’re really like exclusive”

Rogue paused. “Wait, what do you mean you’ve been watchin’ us through a screen?”

"Well...like I said, it's kind of my superpower. I know everything about everyone in here!" Gwen said cheerfully, oblivious to how sinister that sounded.

“What else do you know about us?” Rogue questioned with attempted intimidation in her tone.

"Uh...well, I know your dad walked out when you were a kid, that you were raised by Mystique, that you discovered your powers when you accidentally KO'd a guy at your high school dance..." Gwendolyn stated all of this matter-of-factly, it not occurring to her that any of this might be secret to Kitty.

Rogue’s usual stereotypically monotone demeanour faltered as the details Gwen shared about her were ones she hadn't told anyone. There was a reason she never talked about the dance…or her childhood. Fuming, hurt, humiliated, she regretlessly tapped Gwendolyn on the cheek. The fangirl barely even got out a stifled yelp before collapsing to the floor, unconscious from the pain.

—————————————————————

“Alright, montage over! I’m done. That probably went on way too long for that song” Gwendolyn angrily yelled as she made pained stumbles towards her cell. Bruised, aching, possibly bleeding, and exhausted, she didn’t feel anywhere near as upbeat about her situation as when this all started.

As seems to be usual, Laura was asleep on her bunk when Gwen arrived, and barely did more that lift her head to acknowledge her cellmate. "Wow. You look like shit." Laura remarked before closing her eyes and putting her head back on the pillow.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Gwendolyn groaned as she collapsed onto the bottom bunk with a thud, laying down on her stomach because it hurt too much to have her butt touching any surface. “Why is is so hard to find someone willing to have sex with me? I’m a hot blonde in prison, aka prime bitch material, it shouldn’t be this hard! I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong…” Believe it or not, she was honestly beginning to get choked up about the series of painful rejections.

"Well...how'd you try to do it?" Laura asked, a little hesitant. Playing therapist was way outside her skillset.

Gwen sighed, aggressively fumbling with her pillow in a futile effort to get comfortable. “I did what you’re supposed to do. I approached them and asked if they wanted to sleep with me”

"That's not...I don't know if that works outside, but it doesn't work in here."

Gwendolyn looked up at Laura, dumbfounded. “What do you mean it doesn’t work? That’s like exactly what I read…I mean most of them were more doms coming on to subs, but I feel like it should work both ways”

“Read?" Laura asked, but brushed it aside. "Yeah...that's a very one-way deal. Especially if you were hitting on claimed bitches."

“So what you’re saying is that I need to go after their prison mommies?”

"Uh...no, that's somehow an even worse idea, unless you just wanna give yourself to one."

Gwen lost focus at what Laura was saying as she mentally shifted back to her despair at her predicament, X-23’s words complete background noise. “When I came to this universe I thought it was going to be better than my old life…”

"In a maximum security prison?" Laura asked, finally sitting up upon the realisation that she wasn’t going to get any sleep.

“Yeah” Gwen tearfully nodded, not seeing the absurdity in how this place could be better. “I don’t have any friends, or a job, I never even finished high school…I’m a total failure. But that was supposed to change in here. I mean…yeah I know I’m in prison…but it’s not a real one. This is supposed to be about escapism”

Again, Laura ignored the 'not a real one' remark (she realised living with Gwen may involve a lot of ignoring her off-handed delusional comments), and focused on the substance of what she said. "I...Look, I get it. Most of my life has been lonely too. If it's any consolation, I didn't graduate high school either. Or any school, really..."

“But you seem to be doing a lot better than I am” Gwendolyn stated sadly, still missing the irony.

"In here, maybe. Outside, I lived the first seventeen years of my life in a lab where they were trying to turn me into a marketable corporate puppet with superpowers." Despite her situation being demonstrably worse than Gwen's, she resisted the urge to call attention to that.

Alternatively, to Gwen their lives were about the same level of terrible. “You get to be a superhero though. I mean that’s like the dream” she said as she left her bed and sat beside Laura on the top bunk.

"Fuck being a superhero. I never caught any muggers or saved any kittens from trees, I was just grown in a test-tube to have super powers, and by the time I broke free they’d decided having powers were illegal."

“Huh, I never really thought about how much of a bummer the Accords are…I’m sorry you went through that” Gwen said with rare sensitivity.

"Yeah. Thanks." Laura said. Sympathy from anyone was rare in The Raft, so she appreciated it where she could get it. "Sorry about...whatever landed you here."

“I robbed an aquarium”

Laura didn’t even know how to parse that. "Well...sorry about your life. And about striking out so far."

“Thank you…” Gwen’s heart beat faster as they sat side by side, feeling dizzy in the head as she stared deeply into Laura’s dark brown eyes. Was this the cue? She felt like it was and so she leaned in to kiss her. Laura, surprised, didn’t kiss her back exactly, but didn't pull away either. Beginning to amateurishly be madeout with, she then felt Gwen slide her right hand up her thigh.

That was when Laura put her hand on hers to stop her. "No" she said firmly. Oddly enough it was enough to make Gwen stop, but she still pulled back in a pout. “Stop pouting. Look just...tell me what I can do for you. Other than making out."

Gwendolyn thought about it carefully for a moment, weighing out her options on how Laura could help. “Well I guess there is a lot we could do without making out…” she suggested without knowing how creepy it sounded.

"Not that either." Laura clarified. She did genuinely sympathise with the fangirl, but she didn’t make it easy.

“Prude” Gwen said with a roll of her eyes and a sigh. “Well I guess if you’re just totally against fucking each other for whatever reason…we could team up! Help me find someone or, even better, multiple people”

"...Who do you have in mind?"

“I’m glad you asked” Gwen said, perking up once more. “Well I’ve been making a list and checking it twice: Sylvie, She-Hulk, Scarlet Witch, and Black Widow. Those are the hottest women in the Marvel Universe. Also they’re mostly all prison mommies just like you suggested”

"I didn't suggest that." Laura pointed out, but Gwen was already continuing with the plan obliviously.

“Whatever. This is gonna be awesome!” Gwendolyn beamed, back to her usual peppy self. She was already imagining all the kinky shit they’d want to do to her.

—————————————————————

The next morning arrived and Gwen was feeling a lot better, her mood only improving further when she was told that today was her first shower. Entering the crowded room of soaped up heroes and villains, the fangirl’s response was like that of a kid in a candy store. She couldn’t begin to try and focus on any specific person, her eyes drawn in every direction. From the sight of Felicia Hardy being washed by her harem of Spidey’s other girlfriends, to Natasha playing with a miserable Pepper Potts, Gwen felt completely overwhelmed. Taking in the sights, she couldn’t help but think that this all was singularly the hottest thing she’d ever seen. But all of them could wait because she had a certain Goddess of Mischief on her mind and Gwen wouldn’t leave until she got what she wanted.

It took several close-calls of her nearly wandering off to pester the nearest hot character in her vicinity (and they were all hot), almost slipping on the wet tiles because she was walking too fast, and “accidentally” bumping her hand on Dazzler’s ass, but she managed to pull herself together to find who she was looking for. At last, through a parting of naked bodies she was able to catch a glimpse of Sylvie in the back and so Gwendolyn began her pursuit…and then she was stopped as Agatha Harkness gracefully stepped in front of the newcomer, putting her hands on Gwen’s stomach to arrest her movement and feel her up at the same time. And clinging to Agatha was Rio, who stared Gwen up and down with a clear knowing smirk on her face

"Haven't seen you in here before..." the purple witch remarked, her eyes hungry. Rio found the statement funny, knowing her ex was right in more ways than one. Gwen obviously hadn’t been in this universe long, much less this prison.

Seeing Kathryn Hahn, Gwendolyn completely forgot what she was supposed to be doing. “Agatha and Rio! Finally, some canon lesbian rep in the MCU! You’re like my favourites. I just rewatched your show last week! You’re on my Spotify Wrapped!”

It took a lot to take Agatha aback, but that managed it. "My...show?" She asked. This was twice she encountered a younger fan who knew a weird amount about her.

Gwen nodded enthusiastically while Rio leaned in close to Agatha’s ear, playfully biting her earlobe, and then whispered: “looks like you have a fan,” knowing context Agatha didn’t but gladly not sharing it.

Agatha resolved to ignore both the strange statement and her ex. "Whatever. Whose bitch are you? I want to rent you for shower time..."

“I’m not anyone’s bitch yet” Gwendolyn answered, not breaking her smile. “Wanna get some coven gangbang action going? Covenbang? That feels like the right word. We’ll need Jennifer and Lilia though. Patti LuPone is a total gilf by the way and people can’t convince me otherwise. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I’d offer to go down on your witch’s road…but looks like you’re still locked up in lockup. Super sucky combo if you ask me” For added effect: the fangirl tapped Agatha’s chastity belt as if the witch somehow didn’t already know it was there.

In immediate objection to Gwen reminding her of that, Agatha smacked her across the face. She was prepared to bring a second smack when her hand was stopped by someone grabbing her wrist.

“Pretty sure she’s protected” Rio intentionally remarked too late for it to be anything more than stating the obvious, stepping back and watching with amusement as Agatha was confronted by X-23.

“Thanks” Agatha said sarcastically while pulling her hand out of Laura’s grip and turning back to the blonde. "I thought you said you weren't anyone's bitch?"

“I’m not!” Gwendolyn insisted, looking at Laura with annoyance. “She’s just my cellmate”

"A cellmate who protects you from others?" Agatha asked incredulously. "You know there are words for that kind of relationship, right?"

Gwen scoffed, proceeding to overshare: “Yeah I know…but we’re definitely not that! She doesn’t even let me fuck her and believe me I tried”

Laura aggressively scowled at the witch, like a wolf scaring off anyone bold enough to try and eat its freshly killed deer. "She's right, we ain't that. But she's still mine”

"Fine. I want to rent her. How much?" Agatha wasn’t in a bargaining mood. Tapping her chastity belt in hopes it would somehow be gone (it wasn’t), she faced a debilitating yearning for some sort of action. She just needed something. So while she may not have been able to get off, she certainly could have some fun with Gwendolyn.

Laura thought about it. "How many cigarettes do you have?"

"Like...two packs?" Agatha replied. But Rio called her bluff when she chimed:

“Oh really? Because I found five under your bed last night” casually washing her hair as she watched everything unfold.

Despite Gwen’s frantic nods of approval for this deal, Laura wasn’t having it. "However many you have, she's one more cig." she said, firmly confrontationally. "She not for sale."

Gwen crossed her arms, muttering “you’re not my mistress” under her breath like a petulant teenager.

Agatha eyed up the Wish.com-Wolverine and weighed up a few things: the pleasure of using the blonde vs the frustration of doing so belted, and the difficulty of fighting X-23 vs Rio's mockery if she backed down...In the end, Agatha sighed and stepped aside, leaving blondie alone. Cue Rio’s mockery: “You let her intimidate you? Guess having that belt on is really making you lose your touch”

Abandoned by the witches, Gwendolyn let out a loud and miserable groan in frustration. “Why did you do that?” she whined to her cellmate.

"Not wanting to see you made a blood sacrifice." Laura explained curtly. A thank you would have been nice. This was why she didn’t help people. "Now go try your luck with Sylvie. Worst that will happen there is something painful up your ass."

Gwen hadn’t thought of what ritual Agatha might end up using her for after they’d had their fun. Feeling a bit bad for whining, she said: “Oh…yeah good point. Thanks…But that does give me an idea. I’m going to try and seduce Sylvie, but if things go wrong you can swoop in and say I’m already yours like you did to Agatha, ok?”

Laura was hesitant to answer that. She helped before because she didn't want her basically harmless cellmate to die and maybe be replaced by someone dangerous that she’d have to deal with. She never signed up to protect Gwen from more basic pain and humiliation though.

Getting no response, Gwen went ahead as if she had gotten one. “It shouldn’t even come to that though because this time my plan is completely flawless. Just watch and touch yourself if you want” she said to Laura and then once more set off for her target with a bar of soap carefully held in her hands. No distractions this time.

Sylvie luxuriated under the lukewarm water as her thralls (Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis) washed her body. Although it took all the self-control Gwendolyn had, she actually didn't say anything to Sylvie as she stepped underneath the showerhead beside her. Gwen got her role straight. She was just a clumsy, nervous, new girl experiencing her first shower in prison. Wiping a smile off her face and avoiding eye-contact, she tried to look scared as she shakily ran the bar of soap along her arms.

While Jane did briefly look over without saying anything, Sylvie seemed to take no notice at all of Gwen. That just wouldn’t do. So, in an attempt to get Sylvie to look in her direction, Gwen let out a soft, completely unrealistic, moan as she drifted the bar of soap downwards until she was lathering between her thighs. It was what she’d learned from careful analysis of prison shower porn (the best and most realistic source of prison knowledge). It was cheesy, but Sylvie did glance at her, the moan getting the goddess’ attention. She didn’t say anything, yet, but Gwen had her attention.

On to step 2. Taking in a deep breath, Gwendolyn let the soap drop from her hands and then gasped as if surprised. “Oh no…” she poorly expressed her fake-concern thinking it sounded completely legit. Bending forward with her butt pushed out to accentuate what little there was, she reached down and strained to pick up the bar. Sylvie watched this play out, perplexed, though Gwen mistook her inscrutable expression for one of interest. When there was no predicted response, Gwen picked up the soap and then feigned dropping it again.

Jane turned to Darcy and asked: "Have you ever seen anybody actually drop the soap? I thought that was just a euphemism."

“One time. And I’m pretty sure someone made her drop it”

Sylvie had had enough. "I can tell you're doing that on purpose” she addressed Gwendolyn directly.

Gwendolyn gasped, pretending to be insulted by the accusation. “Me? What no I just am having a really hard time holding it. It’s just so slippery…”

"You're also a bad liar, and I'm a good judge of that. Gwen, right?" Sylvie asked, remembering the girl from the mines yesterday.

“Yeah” Gwen nodded, struggling to look her in the eyes and not anywhere below.

Sylvie managed to convey herself with a level of royalty despite being completely undressed and soaped up. "And I take it that the whole pantomime of dropping the soap was an effort to get my attention? Well, you have it. Kneel.

Gwen beamed. “Total swoon. That is such a you way to command me” It goes without saying that she got on her knees without so much as a word of resistance. Sylvie merely turned around, letting her implied command to her slaves to continue washing her and the new girl to eat her arse go unsaid. Resuming washing Sylvie’s breasts, Darcy couldn’t tell whether she should look at her mistress or Gwendolyn literally kissing the goddess’ rear. She didn’t want to watch, but it was really distracting. Meanwhile Gwen had absolutely no idea what she was doing but just went with it, licking Sylvie’s butt to her horny heart’s delight in increasingly sporadic passes.

After about a minute of this, Sylvie rolled her eyes and pushed Gwen away. "If you are so eager for my attention, get better at this. Now get out of my sight." She turned back around, spread her legs, and pushed Darcy down by her shoulders until the girl was face first with her bush.

Gwen couldn’t hide her jealousy at the sight. “Wait, no I can do better. Give me a second chance” she pleaded, still on her knees. But when Sylvie fastidiously ignored her, Gwen resolved to do something drastic. She’d made a lot of dumb decisions, but this next one was up there as one of her dumbest. Bitter, horny, and madly envious, she stood up and shoved Darcy away from Sylvie. “You will claim me” the fangirl said in a completely unhinged tone.

With a look and gesture of utter contempt, Sylvie smacked her across the cheek hard enough to leave a bright red handprint. Tears welled up in poor Gwendolyn’s eyes, the hit having landed where Agatha previously had done the same. “Ow…is that foreplay?” She knew it wasn’t but couldn’t help but hope.

Sylvie didn’t even deign to answer her. "Brunnhilde, if this interloper approaches me again, break a few of her bones." she called to Valkyrie a couple showerheads over.

“I think I should probably be going…but this was fun” the threat made Gwen get away as fast as possible, slipping on the wet tiles and nearly falling face-first against the ground.

"Smooth." Laura said sarcastically as she passed. "Who's next?"

“You’re Jean’s enforcer. Think you could convince her to let me use Wanda?” Gwen asked, choosing to move on to the next person on her list rather than stew in her embarrassment at Sylvie’s rejection.

Laura calmly stepped under a stream of water, gracious of the wash. "Not how that relationship works, Gwen. You’ll have to offer Jean something she wants before she'll let you use her favourite toy.”

Shamelessly staring at Laura’s tits, Gwen asked: “Well what does she want?”

Snikt! Laura’s claws sliding out of her knuckles brought Gwen’s eyes back up to the irritable lab experiment’s face. “Look up here” she said aggressively, making sure Gwen was doing so, before answering the question. “I don't think anybody knows that except Jean. If she knows it."

“Hm alright well I’ll improvise!”

—————————————————————

3:28 PM. Having just finished her shift, Wanda Maximoff sat cross legged on the couch in the rec room entranced, spellbound, in an episode of Bewitched playing on the shitty tv, much to the annoyance of everyone else who would have liked to watch something else. The witch had probably seen the episode thirteen times before, but was still fully invested in it. It was one of her favourites. There was comfort in knowing what would happen – something which sadly didn’t apply to her life.

Cue the epitome of the uncertainty of life, Gwendolyn. She sat down next to Wanda and began chatting as if they already knew each other. "Oh, the 1967 Halloween special, I love this one!" Gwendolyn knew the direct approach with Wanda hadn’t worked, so she was trying something a bit different.

“You’ve seen it?” Wanda asked, surprised. Nobody ever sat down to talk about shows with her. She was hesitant given her previous interaction with Gwen, but the fact that she knew about old sitcoms piqued her interest.

"Yeah, I binged the whole show before coming here" Gwen said with that Laina Morris grin again.

The smile was unnerving but Wanda ignored it. “What’s your favourite episode?” she asked, at first out of genuine curiosity but then suddenly growing suspicious that someone might actually want to have a conversation with her.

"The Joker is a Card. I relate to Uncle Arthur pretty strongly, for reasons I guess are obvious..." Gwendolyn answered, accompanied by the intervention of a laugh-track (she’d gotten Laura to intimidate an inmate with the ability to mimic voices and sounds into helping). Oh and for those of you who aren't familiar with every detail of a show that came out in the ‘60s, Uncle Arthur was portrayed by a gay actor.

The sound of canned laughter startled and confused Wanda. “What was that?

"What was what? I didn't hear anything." Gwendolyn was lying as badly as ever, but doing it in the way a sitcom character would, which she hoped would appeal to Wanda.

The witch definitely noticed a very sitcom-esque tone and suddenly felt like she was back in Westview. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about that. “You didn’t hear any laughter? I must be losing my mind…” right on cue, the laugh-track played. “There it was again”

Gwen dramatically shrugged. She was a terrible actress, but she actually kind of gave convincing old sitcom vibes. "Probably nothing. So, uh...come here often? Well...of course you do...it's prison..."

Wanda looked for a source of the laughter but found none. The random nature of it forced a small smile out of her though. “Well there aren’t many other places to frequent…who are you again?”

"Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn Poole. New girl on the cellblock. Ooh, that could be the show name..."

Nodding in agreement, Wanda felt herself vaguely warming up to the fangirl. “I’d watch that. I’ve imagined my incarceration as a sitcom before…It wasn’t very funny”

"Maybe your incarceration so far just wasn't the sitcom..." Gwen suggested. "Maybe it was the sad backstory before New Girl on the Cellblock...and in the show proper things are funnier...lighter hearted...more romantic." Her heart pounded.

“Are you trying to…flirt…with me?” Wanda asked in a hushed tone, giving her an unsure look.

"Yes!" Gwen said, smiling. "Is it working?"

Wanda didn’t know how to begin to answer that, which was made apparent as she stammered: “It…I…w-why are you interested in me?”

The question actually stunned Gwen for a second. How could Elizabeth Olsen not be sexy? "Are you kidding? Look at you! You're beautiful, powerful, sexy, funny, you're everything a gay girl in prison could want..."

Wanda bit at her blackened fingertips as she tried to process what Gwen was saying. It was pretty inconceivable to the witch that anyone here could want her without some ulterior motive. Jean had made her worth very clear. “I think you should go…” she said softly.

Gwendolyn went from beaming in anticipation of an awesome, cute romance scene to puppy-dog pouting. "What? Why? We were totally having a moment!"

“I don’t think Jean would be ok with this” Wanda whispered, fearing her arrival and hearing this conversation. “She can’t know about this”

"What's a romantic comedy without some obstacles?"

“Most of them don’t have someone being sold in the showers” Wanda said, accompanied by another burst of canned laughter that felt entirely poorly timed.

"This one doesn't have to. We can hide from her..."

“How would we do that?” Wanda asked, briefly entertaining the idea but knowing it wasn’t possible.

Gwen wasn’t going to give up. "Well...are there any ways she lets you interact with other girls?

“Only if they’re paying her in cigarettes for me” Wanda had a flash of each humiliating experience that had involved her body being sold.

"Well, there are clearly times she lets you go off alone. We could meet then. Plan ahead, make sure she's distracted..."

Wanda moved back slightly on the couch, avoiding being too close…but Gwen scooted closer anyway. “She’s a telepath. She’d know” Wanda tried to explain.

“You can fool her! I know it!" and then with those words spoken, Gwendolyn moved in for a kiss. Taken by surprise, Wanda didn't try to escape. To the stalkery fangirl that meant that clearly Wanda was totally into it and so she kissed her eagerly, tenderly, putting her tongue in her mouth. The unnamed mimicry-power based inmate provided the genre-appropriate "Oooooooooh"s of course. And then Gwen chose to take it a bit above what could be shown in a show from the ‘60s by ripping open Wanda’s jumpsuit and feeling up her perky breasts.

Eyes comically gone wide, Wanda looked in terrified confusion at what was happening. Guilt and fear began to overwhelm her as Gwen kept going until, suddenly, the witch pulled away. Whatever interest she had vanished in realisation at what Jean would do to her when she found out. Tilting her head (which Gwen recognised from Tik Tok edits as a signature sign that Wanda was threatening someone), she said in a tone that teetered between the realm of calm and scary. “I want you to leave”

"I don't want to leave you." Gwen said, attempting another rapey kiss. But before their lips could meet she was pulled to the opposite end of the couch by a sudden force, like invisible hands gripping her shoulders.

“I’ve given you a chance to leave, but if you won’t take it I’ll be forced to make you” Wanda more explicitly threatened as magic danced around her fingertips.

Gwen looked at her, pleading. "Come on! You want me, I could tell in that kiss, and I definitely want you. Let's find a way to make it work..."

The response she received was the tv remote being thrown at her face and then Wanda waving her away, literally forcing her off the couch with a gust of chaos magic, before turning to watch the tv in wait for the guards to apprehend her. She already knew there would be a massive security response to subdue her and drag her to solitary. There often was when she used her powers to harm someone, no matter how minor or even if it was in self-defense.

When the guards arrived, Wanda went away quietly, sighing as she looked at the ground and submitted to the overly aggressive staff cuffing her. She already knew she’d spend the next day in solitary worrying what Jean would do to her when she got out.

Gwendolyn felt dejected as she left the room, but still stopped to enjoy the sight of Wanda in chains…

—————————————————————

“What is it in an erotica that makes a sex scene so exciting to read? Is it the emotions, the push and pull of a dance between characters before they even get their clothes off? Depending on the couple maybe it’s the humiliation or love that goes into it. Or maybe it’s just seeing two sexy individuals ravage each other's bodies. Honestly, all of it gets me wet! But the best marriage of all three is the sacred hatefuck. Nothing is hotter than seeing a hero and their villain get it on while still despising each other” Gwen monologued aloud.

“I don’t give a shit” Laura said, bluntly making it known she didn’t care about Gwen’s thoughts on writing. “Just tell me what you want me to do"

They stood at the entrance of the gym where Gwen was eyeing She-Hulk running a 5k on the treadmill. They weren’t far at all from the last scene of disaster the fangirl had made, the gym sitting right next to the rec room. It was mostly a coincidence that her last target and her next were so close but it worked out pretty well.

“tell Titania that…” Gwendolyn whispered something in Laura’s ear that I’ll leave mysterious for now for the sake of surprise. But the plan now was in action, Gwen walking up to She-Hulk and Laura off to find Titania.

“Need me to spot you?” Gwen asked, grinning at her double entendre. She-Hulked out, Jennifer’s orange leotard clung tightly to her giant ripped Amazonian body as she ran. Focused on her work-out she hadn’t noticed the annoying girl from the mine approach until then.

She glanced at Gwen and rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, thanks." she replied

“With a rockin bod like yours I should have known you can handle things yourself” Gwen quipped. “Yesterday you said you wanted to make ‘introductions’ later. Well here I am!” She said ‘introductions’ while making quotation marks with her fingers.

Jenn slowed down a bit so she could talk properly and gestured to the treadmill next to hers. Gwen gladly took the invitation but proceeded to struggle to figure out how to turn it on. It was painful to watch the minute it took her to find the power button. “I really like your prison-themed leotard. It leaves nothing to the imagination while you’re mining”

"Yeah, certain guards are of the same opinion." Jenn replied. "That always how you make introductions?"

“Only when the other person is a completely hot jolly green giant…or a grieving witch…or Kathryn Newton…” The list was longer than thought as she started to say it out loud.

Jenn raised an eyebrow at that last one. "The girl from Detective Pikachu?"

“She exists in this universe?! Doesn’t Cassie Lang look exactly like her?” Gwen gasped.

"Uh...this universe?" Jenn asked for clarification, barely hearing the second clause.

Gwendolyn was aware that she probably shouldn’t try to explain it so she lied. “Universe? Who said anything about universe?”

"You did...a second ago." Jenn said, increasingly confused and annoyed. She was really sick of the new girl but felt bad just outright telling her to leave her alone. Gwen surely was out of her mind.

“No I didn’t. Why would I talk about universes when we were discussing actresses?” Gwen attempted. Jenn only sighed and turned the speed back up, indicating that she was done with this conversion as politely as she could. As observant of social cues as ever (not at all), Gwen went from simply conversing to attempting to flirt. “This is fun and all, but how about we work out a few other muscles” she said with a wink

"I've heard better pick-up lines from LA area dudes who unironically call themselves alphas." Jenn said, in an insult so devastating even Gwen couldn’t miss it. The fangirl had been through a lot since this chapter started but that line hurt far more than the series of anal penetrations…but not quite as much as Rogue’s touch of death. Her face still kind of stung from that, or maybe it was hurting from repeatedly being slapped in the showers a few hours ago. Who could tell anymore? Either way, she actually shut up.

That was when the door swung open and Laura entered the gym, looking over her shoulder for the unhinged superpowered influencer she antagonised into chasing her. Under the guise of acting under Jennifer’s request, she told Titania that it was inspiring that she had become a body-positivity icon in prison. That did the trick.

“Body-positivity icon? Try calling me that when I literally break every bone in your body!” Titania yelled, furiously following the mutant through the prison while shoving just about anyone who got in her way. Like a charging bull she could not be stopped. Admittedly she seemed way more pissed off than Gwen anticipated, but the fangirl had complete faith that her plan would work.

Laura locked eyes with Gwen for a second, as if to say 'I hope this was worth it.' She ran towards her, acrobatically jumping over several rowing machines, weight benches and cross trainers hoping they'd slow Titania down. But they didn’t stand much of a chance. While it did take more force than it would have if Titania didn’t have a power-suppression collar on, she still was strong enough to move the equipment with relative ease. She couldn’t flip it, but she definitely could give it a substantial shove.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cave your face in last” The influencer threatened.

Suddenly Gwendolyn stepped in front of her. “Hi! I’m Gwen-“ she started…but was unceremoniously tossed aside as Titania approached She-Hulk with a fury.

“Now what?” Jenn groaned. Against all odds, she missed the days when Titania wasn’t in prison. Now she had to deal with being incarcerated and her madly persistent foe. Titania wasn’t even her biggest adversary and yet she practically managed to show up no matter what just to get her ass kicked.

Titania swept her long, cascading red hair back and smirked. “Now what? Now I’m going to destroy you” She said with complete confidence despite her number of defeats in their fights being in the double digits. Not once had she won but here she was trying again.

Jenn rolled her eyes, more annoyed that she had to do this again than anything else. “Look, we’ve done this a lot. Can you just get over it?”

“I don’t get over anything” Titania replied.

Gwen managed to stagger to her feet. She would have been eating popcorn for this fight if she had any, but unfortunately she didn’t.

“So what’s the point of this?” Laura asked, standing by her cellmate.

“I said it yesterday in the mines, hatefuck threesome. We’ve shipped them. We’ve set the fuse. Now I just have to lay the dynamite then I join in and BOOM I lose my virginity to both of them” Gwen proclaimed.

“I think that’s in the wrong order…but whatever” Laura started but remembered she was talking to Gwendolyn and that there was no point in trying to use logic with her.

By the time Titania had said “Get ready for Round 2, bitch” her rampage was brought to an abrupt end as She-Hulk leaped off the treadmill, grabbed her by the arm and flipped her over onto her back. Then the emerald giantess straddled her and expertly pinned her arms to the floor, over her head. No matter how hard Titania tried, she wouldn’t be able to break free. “Ugh get off me! Ew you’re all sweaty!” she whined.

It was all going to Gwendolyn’s absolutely ridiculous plan until Laura took hold of her arm. "We should leave before the guards show up” she said.

Gwen scoffed. “And miss this? Can’t you just feel the sexual energy coming off those two? This is how the action starts! They’re going to start ripping each other’s clothes off any minute now…” a minute passed and Jennifer and Titania were still struggling, but neither’s clothes were any more removed than they’d been before the fight. “Any minute…”

“You wanna go to solitary then?” Laura asked. They were running out of time.

“Not really…but the whole point of this was to join them…fine” Gwen nodded, letting Laura drag her out of the gym as the fangirl stared back longingly at She-Hulk and Titania.

Jenn was still smacking Titania into submission when she heard the boots of guards rushing in. She stopped. She sighed. A shadow fell over her and she knew who it was...she was about to be strip searched, then jump rope, then eat pussy, then spend the weekend naked in a solitary cell getting livestreamed to Weaver's desktop.

Leading the armed guards securing the two inmates, Officer Weaver stepped in front of Jennifer with a wolfish grin on her face. “Guess it’s back to the hole for you, Shulkie”

“Thank you! This bitch just attacked me for no reason!” Titania exclaimed as Jenn got off and assumed a knelt position for the guard to cuff her. The influencer was under the impression that this was a rescue.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll actually be getting a nice long four days away from her, or anyone really, in solitary” Weaver remarked, pulling a pair of vibranium cuffs off her belt and locking Jenn’s wrists up tight while the same was done to Titania by another guard.

“What? That is like so unfair! It’s your fault!” Titania accused Jennifer while wrestling with the guard trying to cuff her. The influencer’s resistance stopped though when her collar shocked her into obedience.

Jenn once again rolled her eyes at the supervillain. "Pointing out that I did literally nothing except stop her won't make a difference, will it?" she asked Weaver.

“It won’t” Weaver replied, lifting the tip of her baton to Jenn’s chin to indicate for her to stand. They had things to do before she could toss her in the hole.

So in summation, in the span of ten minutes Gwen had managed to get three people sent to solitary.

—————————————————————

Laura and Gwendolyn ran like hell to escape the guards rushing into the gym. Laura was fine, Gwen on the other was exhausted and trying not to show it. But as they reached the yard, she saw a sight that restored her energy: Natasha Romanoff, her jumpsuit down around her waist, her perfectly muscled torso glistening in the sun, chest shamelessly covered by absolutely nothing…

"Gwen...you're literally drooling." Laura pointed out.

"Huh? Oh!" Gwen wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Okay...I got this...I got this..." She was trying to psych herself up more than she had with anyone else. This was it. This right here was her absolute dream. Scarlett Johannson herself. The face that launched well over a thousand fanfictions. Maybe the others didn’t work out, but this had to. This right here was the grand finale! Praying to every deity out there (Marvel Jesus, Mephisto, Thor, God of Stories Loki, and Stan himself) she asked for this one small miracle. Taking a deep breath Gwen walked towards her.

Gracefully stretching, Natasha eyed the blonde walking up to her. She could read Gwen from a simple glance. New arrival, anxious, not a threat, subtle body signals conveyed she was clearly made nervous by her.

"Hi..." Gwen said, an octave higher than she meant to. Her whole body tenses. She wanted to smack herself in the face but resisted the urge. ‘Come on Gwen, cool, sexy femme fatale, cool, sexy femme fatale!’ she thought to herself, she pulled down her jumpsuit to match Natasha’s. Since she hadn’t magically acquired an undershirt, it just means that she was now as topless as Black Widow.

“Hey” Nat greeted in an effortlessly cool tone. Her sight briefly drifted to Gwen’s chest as her jumpsuit came undone but she didn’t make it too obvious.

But Gwendolyn caught it and sharply took another breath. ‘Black Widow, The fucking Black fucking Widow just checked out my tits!’ She could have fainted but somehow stayed up. "...The name's Poole. Gwen Poole." She said. She didn’t do a British accent because even she knew how dorky that would be.

Gwen wasn’t the first fan Nat had met so she didn't hold her clear excitement against her. “What brings you to The Raft, Gwen?” she asked while raising her right leg in the air above her head in an impressive show of balance and flexibility.

It took the fangirl a long while to answer as she was distracted by Nat’s pose. When she regained her composure, she said: "Uh...I...w-wouldn't you like to know..."

“Only if you want to tell me” Natasha replied, holding the pose with ease.

"...I robbed an aquarium. But I was purposely trying to end up here."

That managed to make even the mighty Black Widow mentally pause for a moment, not having seen that one coming. She could have asked why she robbed an aquarium but one question at a time. “Why would you want to be here?”

"I have my reasons..." Gwendolyn said, trying to get back to being aloof and mysterious.

Nat didn’t press the topic so instead moved on to a different one. She was wondering what exactly the girl had approached her for but didn't want to say it directly so instead asked: “Are you wanting my autograph?”

"I want more than that!" Gwen said, grinning, but then pulled it back. "I-I mean...we can help each other."

“And how can we do that?”

This was going pretty smoothly considering the conversation had Gwen. "Well, I know a lot of stuff about people in here. Like a lot. Stuff you probably don't know. Go ahead, ask me about someone."

Nat was enjoying the calm of her time in the yard, but clearly this was going to be a long conversation. She sighed but played along. “Tell me something about me”

Gwen considered bringing up her infertility, but thought better of it. "When you were a kid, and your adoptive parents were Soviet agents sent to infiltrate the US, Yelena used to play the song American Pie a lot. It has special significance to you for that reason”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “How do you about know that?”

"I told you. I know things." Gwen said with a smile. "I could tell you other things about yourself...a certain intimate conversation you and Bruce had at Hawkeye’s house...but I don't wanna bring that up because it's a bummer. I think I've proved my point."

Yelena’s love for the song could have been a weirdly accurate deduction based on the fact that she hums it, but absolutely no one except Natasha and Bruce know about that conversation. Nat was perplexed but hid it, asking calmly: “So is that your mutation?”

"Yes.” Gwen said, figuring it was a reasonable enough simplification of the truth. "And I can tell you a lot about other girls in here, things that will help you gain an advantage. Interested?"

“Maybe. What would you get out of helping me?” Nat asked distrustfully. Speaking about herself just as much as she was others, people in prison didn’t help for no reason. There was always a catch.

Gwendolyn blushed. "I...I wanna have sex with you. Not the usual way people ask for that in here. I want you to dominate me..."

“That’s not the usual thing people ask for…but you’re not the first” Nat remarked, not yet giving an answer to her proposal. The offer combined with her appearance seemed familiar to something Yelena mentioned over breakfast. “Was it you who visited my sister’s cell yesterday?”

"Um...yes." Gwen answered, embarrassed. "...That didn't go how I hoped."

“Yeah…she told me” Nat sounded like she wished she hadn’t. The details Yelena chose to specify while they were eating were of course mostly about what it was like making Gwendolyn eat out her ass. Noticing the fan’s embarrassment Nat add: “She seemed to like you though”

"She did?!" Gwendolyn asked, her confident facade collapsing as she openly fangirled for a moment before she forced herself back to the femme fatale effect. "I hope...you like me to. Enough to give me the satisfaction she didn't."

By now Natasha felt like she understood Gwendolyn pretty well. She was a fangirl who was too horny for her own good but ultimately pretty harmless. The spy didn’t feel right taking advantage of that. “Gwen, you seem sweet and your powers are definitely impressive. But I think you deserve a relationship that isn’t built on how you can be useful to the other person”

Gwendolyn looked excited for the first two clauses of her statement. Then the 'but' happened, and she looked crestfallen. "I can't have that. I can't find that, if I could I wouldn't have come here. Plus, you're Natasha Romanoff! Scarlett fucking Johanson! Being your owned bitch, even in a super toxic relationship, would be ambrosia!"

Natasha flowed out of stretching so that she could address her directly. “I know it would be…for the first month maybe. But do you really think you’d want to be my bitch years from now? I don’t” Nat probably wouldn’t have treated her that poorly, but the implication of it being worse than it would be was important to her point. “Or being anyone’s bitch for that matter. You’re what 19? Being claimed isn’t as romantic as it probably sounds to you right now”

"Then let me have that month!" Gwen implored. "Or at least let me lose my virginity to you! Please?"

The spy tensed. She’d turned out plenty of women, she did have a harem after all, but the topic of losing one’s virginity never stopped being uncomfortable. The nature of the Red Room assured that her first time wasn’t really by her own volition. “Judging by your abilities you probably already know this, but during the first job the Red Room gave me I was told to sleep with my first target and so I did. I lost my virginity to a politician in Saint Petersburg…” she refrained from oversharing. “…My point is that I don’t feel comfortable taking your virginity”

That floored Gwen for a second, and she stammered: "I...I actually didn't know that." Her facade fell entirely, and she was just an awkward nerdy teenager. "...Damn, that sucks. I'm sorry..."

Natasha nodded, not having expected to be hit with that series of Red Room given trauma today. “When this conversation is over please don’t try to get yourself claimed by someone else”

Realising her last effort had failed, Gwendolyn desperately tried to follow Natasha as she walked away. "Wait wait...I'm more than I seem! Wouldn't you like to know! Thank you for your cooperation!" she yelled out random femme fatale lines she had rehearsed beforehand, to no avail. She fell to her knees, having failed.

Laura came up to her cellmate's kneeling form. "I guess that didn't work out..."

“Yeah…” Gwen said solemnly, reflecting on what had been said and everything that had happened to her since arriving in this series. The pain she’d been through, the failed attempts. Then something clicked. It all made so much sense.

“Wow…” she began. Everything was so clear now. How could she have not seen it sooner? It was right in front of her the whole time. She’d been going on all these mad pursuits but why? The epiphany shook her to her core. She stood and looked at Laura. “...I can’t believe this whole time you’ve had a crush on me!”

Laura’s eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?!"

Smiling madly, Gwen got uncomfortably close. “Black Widow was so right, I was so busy chasing everyone else that I completely missed that you’re madly in love with me!” she exclaimed despite the fact that that absolutely was not what Natasha’s point was at all. “You love me! Admit it!”

This sudden, intense, inaccurate and totally unexpected outpouring of emotion triggered Laura’s fight or flight response, and anybody who thought she would choose flight didn’t know her. She delivered a hard uppercut to Gwen's chin, with all her might. The only restraint she showed was that her claws weren't out. One second Gwendolyn had been staring into Laura’s eyes plotting out the escalation of bases and then the next thing she knew everything went black. The punch knocked her out cold.

—————————End Credit Scene————————-

New York. She entered a crowded high-end restaurant that would have been a culture shock to any of the long-incarcerated women of The Raft. The drastic change in scenery that came from shifting between the two worlds used to come as a surprise but she'd gotten used to it by now. She was suddenly beckoned by a well-dressed man seated at one of the tables.

“Valentina, I’m glad you could make it” Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, king of the new age of superheroes, smiled like shards of glass filled his mouth, the proper expression never quite reaching his dead eyes.

Val smoothly took a seat and eyed him carefully. “Norman. I’m surprised you chose to do this in person. I half-expected you to send me one of your lackeys”

“I prefer conducting business like this in person. It’s not everyday that the warden of the most secure women’s prison in the world wishes to buy one of my products. Whoever you choose will assure a decrease in any…misbehaviour…while still reporting to you of course” Norman set down several files on the table, each containing information on different Oscorp-made heroes.

But Val already knew who she was looking for. She’d been planning this for some time afterall. “I did my research already” she said, holding up the file marked ‘Thunderstorm’

Norman nodded in agreement. “Due to the nature of this new project, I’m inclined to suggest you avoid deploying her unless absolutely necessary”

Chapter Text

—————————————————————

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through The Raft
Not an inmate was stirring, only nightshift staff;
The stockings were hung by the cell-bars with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there…”

—————————————————————

Christmas Eve, a day when people come together to gather in the light of the dark December with Yuletide merriment. Well at least that’s what it is for most. For the inmates of The Raft it wasn’t too dissimilar from any other day of the year, except for Wanda. Given special permission from the guards and, more importantly, Jean, the Scarlet Witch had been allowed to organise the prison’s festivities. Humming carols to herself, The witch fretted to and fro between the provided boxes of decor, pulling strings of garland and bits of fake holly in this wonderful brief period of independence. Christmas was always her favourite holiday, well the idea of Christmas (most of her childhood festive cheer came through forcing Pietro to watch old American holiday films with her) and even her life in prison hadn’t changed that.

With each light adorned and stocking hung Wanda mentally listed everything that must be prepared in order for it to be the best Christmas it could be. She’d been given permission to organise a special Christmas dinner, an artificial tree in the yard, and a gift exchange tomorrow when the work shift would usually occur. They were even letting her draft a few inmates from the chain gang today as decorators and cooks, and to craft gifts (though they had to clear all such drafts with the guards).

Officer Renee came back from her break, relieving the guard overseeing Wanda, and smirked at the witch’s clear mix of excitement and stress."How's it goin' inmate?" Renee asked, sounding genuinely kinder than usual. "Managing to bring some holiday cheer to what is basically Scrooge Island?"

“It’s going well so far! I’m only…thirty minutes behind schedule already” Wanda replied uncharacteristically enthusiastically while checking her list. It was somewhat jarring (but in a good way) for her to engage with guards and to actually have them be somewhat friendly. They weren’t usually very kind to the woman who held a town hostage and then nearly ripped apart the multiverse.

"So, I heard you had some requests for little helpers. Which elves do you want off the chain gang, Scarlet Santa?" Renee asked.

Reciting her answer off memory, Wanda replied: “Darcy Lewis, She-Hulk, Kate Bishop, Natasha, and Sylvie please”

Officer Renee looked hesitant. "She-Hulk is one of the more productive miners. What do you need her for?"

Wanda shrugged. “She’s tall and can lift the heavy things”

Renee paused to think about it, but eventually sighed. "Fine. As it's Christmas. Also, I got you something..."

“You did?” Wanda asked, not sure if she should trust a gift from one of the notoriously kinky guards.
Wanda watched with slight apprehension as Renee reached into her bag…and pulled out a red and white santa-hat with the witch’s inmate number printed across the bottom. Wanda’s eyes lit up briefly.

"You may as well look the part." Renee said, putting it on Wanda’s head.

“Thank you” Wanda smiled softly, charmed by the gift. It was such a small act, but she’d been met with very little kindness throughout her life. Getting a gift at all, especially in prison, felt like a shock to her system.

"Merry Christmas" Renee sent the transfer order for the requested inmates from her tablet.

Wanda pulled a long string of lights out that she sorted with the others. “…You can help us decorate if you want” there was no harm in at least offering.

Renee only chuckled. “I think I'd rather just watch you cuties work, thanks. Weaver will bring you your elves in a minute."

The witch returned to focusing on unboxing, black fingers carefully handling each and every precious item as she meticulously mentally pictured the perfect place to put them. The intrusive thought that somewhere in the multiverse she was doing this with her family strayed into her mind, but the pain didn’t linger anywhere near as long as it usually did when she imagined the life a version of her could be leading. It came and it went, parting so that she may focus on her plans. Before she knew it Officer Weaver was there with “six little elves plus one” as the guard put it. The five requested helpers were there…and Domino. Apparently there was some sort of lucky scheduling glitch that assigned her to the job.

Everyone else on the group had varying reactions to being present. Jennifer Walters wasn't surprised to be pulled off the chaingang by Weaver, that was fairly common, but she was surprised that the reason didn't involve jumping rope. Darcy and Kate Bishop just looked excited to be there, but the archer did feel guilty for leaving Yelena working in the mines. Natasha Romanoff had strongly hinted to Wanda that she should be given this job two days ago, despite not liking the holiday. Sylvie mostly looked bemused by Wanda in the odd hat, with uncharacteristically (for this place) colourful items surrounding her. The trickster goddess inferred from context that this was some sort of Midgardian holiday, but its traditions remained unknown to her.

"Elves?" Jennifer asked Weaver, reproachfully.

“Well you are Scarlet Santa’s helpers” Weaver replied with a shrug.

Domino smirked, thinking the title was cute. "We could do with some cute orange elf-outfits." she suggested, much to She-Hulk's obvious annoyance.

Wanda absentmindedly opened one of the boxes when she happened to find exactly that. Holding one up with an expression of bemusement on her face she said “Oh well there actually are some…”

Domino beamed. "How lucky." Her cuffs came unlocked, much to Kate Bishop’s astonishment, and she began stripping out of her jumpsuit.

“How? Why?” Darcy questioned the seemingly coincidental undoing of chains as she was manually uncuffed by Weaver and then began to undress as well. Nat followed next, not shy at all about changing in front of the others. She had nothing to be shy of. Kate didn’t feel the same way, awkwardly trying to strip without anyone seeing any part of her too intimate.

Sylvie was confused by this whole conversation. "Are we talking about Svartálfheimians or Alfheimians?" Her question was met by a blank stare from Wanda, who was trying to formulate a response despite not knowing what either of those meant.

Having testified in a case involving a light-elf, Jennifer understood. "Not that kind of elf, Sylvie. Think shorter, more marketable, and more humiliating to have to dress as."

“She means Christmas elves. Like those little guys with green hats who help Santa” Kate tried to explain to the confused Goddess of Mischief. “...Which, saying that out loud, is probably not a thing on Asgard”

"No, none of this is. But you do look cute in those tights." Sylvie smirked while beginning to get changed.

And so they all were in various states of wearing the prison themed festive-wear. Natasha stepping into a frilly skirt that strangely reminded her of her ballet days while Wanda couldn’t help but watch, Kate hurriedly putting on what she could, Domino beside herself with excitement at her own idea, and Darcy rolling her eyes as Sylvie looked at her now exposed boobs mid-change. Everyone was almost dressed…except one. “There a reason you aren’t getting changed, Shulkie?” Weaver asked while tapping her baton against a box

She-Hulk crossed her very finely toned green arms. “I...would rather keep my leotard, thank you."

“Wow someone’s being a Grinch today” Weaver chuckled, choosing that nickname due to the woman’s green complexion. “I could send you back to the mines if you aren’t going to be festive”

"That might be preferable." Jennifer said, hoping she'd offer a more positive incentive.

Officer Weaver rolled her eyes. “You always love to negotiate things, Walters. Never can just be easy. Get dressed and I’ll give you the next week off from our little sessions” the guard’s festive spirit to see Jennifer dressed in a cute prison elf costume outweighed her love of the usual torments.

Jen blushed a slightly deeper shade of green as their 'sessions' were mentioned in front of the other inmates. “Fine” she agreed, taking off the leotard and changing into the elf outfit in her size (albeit still quite tight).

—————————————————————

Yelena Belova could not believe that it was Christmas Eve and she was down in the heart of the mines sweating her tits off. Granted, she’d spent past Christmas Eves in far worse situations (such as the interrogation chamber of a South American dictator that she later violently killed) but this just felt like a really lame way to spend the day. Ever since she was a kid she’d wanted a normal American Christmas like she’d been forced to model for in her fake childhood. It had been pretty depressing to rip open a present only to find that the box was empty (despite the fact that she’d already opened three other faux presents in a row).

However petty, Wanda hadn’t chosen Yelena as a helper because of the assassin’s very annoying tendency to break into the kitchen to make herself macaroni and cheese whenever she felt like it. It also didn't help that Yelena never cleaned up the mess from when she was done cooking. The spy of course didn’t know that was the reason she wasn’t chosen, but she did know that Wanda didn’t like it when she did that (but that had never stopped her).

Taking a pretty aggressive swing at the rocks and then wiping a thick sheen of sweat off her forehead, Yelena’s mind was on Kate Bishop. Their last Christmas together had been traumatic…but in a fun way. Hopefully this year would be like that again (fun, not traumatic). Speaking of traumatic, Yelena was being forced to listen to a truly awful song being sung.

“Pulling down your jumpsuit.
Yanking off my own
Underneath the mistletoe.
I will make you moan.”
Gwendolyn Pool very poorly sang to the tune of Jingle Bells as she toiled beside Laura Kinney in the mine. The fangirl was literally a few swings away from blacking out and yet she still chose to waste her breath singing.

Now it was officially the worst Christmas Eve ever to Yelena. The obnoxious fangirl she’d facesat had assured of that. “Can you shut the fuck up?” Laura growled, just about ready to turn Gwen into a kebab. She spoke for basically everyone that could hear when she asked that question.

“I’m just trying to make this a bit more festive. We’re clearly in a Holiday special, what am I supposed to do? Want me to do a different carol?” Gwen asked between heaving. Getting a less than enthusiastic expression from Laura, she began to sing to the tune of We Wish You A Merry Christmas: “Oh I wish I could see you naked…”

Her song was cut short as Laura spun around, popped her claws out, and rested the incredibly sharp tips against Gwendolyn’s throat. “Sing another line and I’ll cut your tongue out, got it?”

“Y-Yeah…got it” Gwen stammered

From her spot along the chain, Rogue sighed in relief. She hated most merriment (or at least that's what she said) but a musical was simply taking it too far. The goth would have preferred to take two candy canes and stab her eardrums out than have to hear another carol. Judging by Kitty’s reaction, even she was relieved it was over.

“Wow um that was like totally terrible” Kitty whispered in a tone that still managed to sound pretty chipper to her spooky girlfriend. She was optimistic but not deaf.

Rogue breathed in sharply as she tried to maintain her rhythm. “It wasn’t all that different from most carols: obnoxious and irritatin’” She firmly believed in the supremacy of Halloween, although she did admittedly like Krampusnacht. She’d never really had people in her life to celebrate Christmas with so she abhorred the holiday…and Kitty was Jewish.

—————————————————————

The helping inmates were broken up into groups: She-Hulk and Darcy would handle the tree, Natasha and Sylvie were to deal with the gifts, Kate and Domino decorating, and Wanda would prepare tomorrow's meal.

"So, were you much of a Christmasy person before?" She-Hulk made small talk with Darcy as they walked under guard supervision to the hangar. There weren’t exactly many trees nearby given the fact that The Raft was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, so one was being flown in via quinjet. Jennifer Walters was the best choice for the job in who could deal with the tree from there.

“Uh yeah! It’s only the best holiday” Darcy replied as she attempted to straighten her glasses while she fumbled with the awkwardly stacked boxes she was attempting to hold. Really she should have just taken two trips, but she didn’t want to go back and forth. “Y’know I actually helped cater a Christmas party at Avenger’s tower while I was interning”

"No kidding? Wait, this wasn't the 2014 party, was it?" Jenn asked.

“Yeah! Wait, were you there?” That Christmas party had been the one where Justin Hammer took control of the tower and held all of the guests hostage until the Avengers arrived.

"Yeah, Bruce invited me. I didn't look like this at the time, of course."

The hangar doors drew open, and both women could see the frankly ridiculous sight of a Christmas tree being air-lifted in. I would describe it, but I think the image is pretty self-explanatory. “This place is so weird” Darcy remarked flatly. As the helicopter set the tree down and disconnected its tethers, Jenn began lifting the giant tree up over her shoulder, with less effort than Darcy was using for the small boxes. Darcy looked pretty astonished. “Show off”

"Easy part’s done. Now I just have to walk this thing to the yard." Jenn said, carefully manoeuvring towards the door with the giant tree in her grasp.

Darcy tried to keep up with the emerald giantess as they made their way to the yard. “So how into Christmas are you? It seemed like Bruce finds it stressful”

"He does. So do I, kinda, but I like being around family and giving and receiving gifts. A week when I don't have to look at any court briefings is also nice...well, it used to be." Her last Christmas pre-incarceration did involve Titania bursting through the chimney dressed in a slutty Santa costume, but that was dealt with pretty quickly as per usual.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah…well this is a nice break from the mines, right?”

"Yeah, that is nice." Mining isn’t as hard as it is for some when you have a condition like Jenn’s, but she still wasn’t fond of doing it. "How about you? How do you usually spend Christmas?"

“Mostly alone drinking eggnog and watching Christmas movies. Which saying that out loud sounds a lot more depressing than it actually it” Darcy thought aloud.

"I mean, it sounds wonderful compared to anything in this place." Jenn said sympathetically, as they made the slow and delicate approach to the yard. She relied on Darcy to watch her blindspot and ensure she didn't accidentally wack a guard with the tree.

—————————————————————

“You have unlimited access to all the usual materials. So cloth, nylon, and polyester. Of course I will be watching you both to make sure you don’t get too…creative” Weaver explained as she escorted Sylvie and Natasha into the factory. The place was used for a relatively uncommon job in the prison, a task only slightly better than the mines but not particularly sought after. Apparently spending hours preparing uniforms for other prisons wasn’t anyone’s dream job. But it was perfect for the holiday, full of sewing machines, conveyor belts, rolls upon rolls of various cheap fabrics, and all manner of other devices. It was practically Santa’s budget wrapping station.

“Define ‘too creative?’” Sylvie asked, at ease with Weaver given their rapport.

“I’ve never been assigned to work in the factory before so yeah clarification would be great” Natasha added, looking uninterested by her task but relieved she didn’t have to swing a pickaxe.

Weaver activated the systems, bringing the room to life as the machinery began to whir. “Well I have to make sure you don’t hide any harmful items in the clothes. Still, I trust that neither of you will- actually I trust Sylvie won’t”

"Trusting a mischief goddess is certainly a choice." Sylvie commented as she assessed the objects all about.

“Yes well you have far less infractions related to harming other prisoners” Weaver replied.

Natasha couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Thank you” Her status as a higher-risk convict was a compliment, but she also wanted to get this job over with. "Do we have a list of inmates and their body measurements?"

The guard walked over to one of the belts and held up a notebook which she handed to the assassin and goddess. It was actually a copy of the relevant data collected during everyone’s intakes, but same difference. All information that didn’t directly help with the process of making clothes had naturally been blacked out.

“Must have taken awhile to copy all that down off the system” Nat said as she looked through the information. It reminded her quite a lot of being handed a SHIELD file on her target in her pre-Avenger days. Just this time she was making gifts, not being sent to kill or apprehend someone.

Sylvie perused the data and conferred with Nat. "How do you think we should do this? Decide what each prisoner should get and then start producing them? Or do we already have some guidance on that?"

Weaver leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette despite the clear ‘no smoking’ sign beside her. She was a guard, obviously that meant the rules didn’t apply to her. “Towards the final few pages Wanda wrote some notes on what a few members of each gang want that you can use to guess the others”

“That’s at least a start” Natasha looked over the notes alongside Sylvie. Judging by the sheer amount there was to read, Wanda must have been working on this for a while. Nat wasn’t sure how the witch had found time between sessions of being abused by Jean. In truth, it involved a lot of Wanda abruptly asking questions to people she passed while mopping up the prison. Most of whom felt uncomfortable answering given the fact she looked like a complete madwoman 90% of the time.

"Indeed” Sylvie nodded. “I hope you don't mind if we start with my Shieldmaidens."

“That’s fine. Our gangs should be the easiest place to start” Natasha agreed.

—————————————————————

“I really hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s your power? I noticed the collar and…” Kate Bishop chatted while standing atop a table to be high enough to string the lights along the wall of the cafeteria. She’d found that people were usually annoyed by the question but she was way too interested, and lacked enough of a filter, to remember that. “I’m sure it’s something cool”

"I'm lucky." Domino replied, standing several chairs on top of each other, entirely confident that the precarious positioning wouldn’t fall down.

Kate tilted her head “Is that a power? How does it work?”

"Like this." Domino said, casually climbing the unstable tower of chairs. It didn’t stay perfectly stable as one might expect if her powers were super-agility. Rather, it wobbled in exactly the pattern necessary to put up the string of lights along the bottom of the guards' overhead patrol walkway. "You may wanna stand back." she said as she finished this section of the lights and the tower collapsed. She landed on her feet, uninjured among the fallen chairs.

“That is…so cool!” Kate exclaimed excitedly. “Wait, shouldn't the collar shut that off…or does it not work because of your luck?” she had a slight tendency to fangirl and ask too many questions, but it was at least better than some people (like a certain blonde and pink haired stalker…)

"This is my ninth collar. They gave up replacing them after my first week here. They always seem to malfunction a second before locking around my neck." Domino grinned. "How about you? What landed you here?"

“Me? Last Christmas I helped Hawkeye stop this crazy crime boss named Kingpin who thought I was some vigilante called The Ronin.” Kate smiled pretty proudly, still stoked about spending a Christmas with the Hawkeye a year later. “...Which I’m sure should have been fine if a few of the henchmen didn’t…die and the Rockefeller Centre got pretty destroyed in the fight”

"Oh, yeah, I saw that on the news." Domino said, chuckling. "Well, my sympathies for your first Christmas in prison."

Kate grabbed some holly from a box and tossed it against the wall, landing perfectly in place atop the tinsel. “Thanks. I mean so far this isn’t so bad” It felt like it could have been worse than this. Like a lot worse!

The archer wasn’t sure what it was about this conversation, but she felt weirdly calm. Although she wouldn’t have said it, she was grateful for the break from Yelena. She knew the assassin was a huge step up from the lustful clutches of Hela that she’d narrowly avoided, but things had been incredibly uncomfortable given their vastly different perspectives on what was and wasn’t acceptable behaviour (regardless of whether or not they were in prison). Nothing about the whole bitch system sat right with Kate, but Yelena seemed to be amused by it. It wasn’t a dispute that was all-consuming, but they came across it enough that Kate was beginning to feel uncomfortable around Yelena. A small part of her worried that Yelena was only being nice to her just so she could claim her.

"Impressive." Domino said as she watched the feat of accuracy. "That a power or just a skill?"

Kate smiled, forgetting all about the Yelena situation. “Skill. Y’know some people have actually called me the world’s greatest archer”

"We seem to have a lot of 'world's greatests' in here. The Raft should field an Olympic team." Domino remarked while grabbing a few candy canes.

“We should! That would honestly be amazing!” Domino was joking but Kate seemed to take the idea seriously. The archer stared at Domino for a moment only starting to realise the tone. “Oh you were joking…”

“Yeah…” Domino answered, now feeling things were awkward. There were a painful few minutes of both women decorating in silence before Domino ventured to introduce a new topic. "So, what do you usually do during Christmas?"

Kate sighed in relief that they were talking. “Well Christmas Eve my mom usually pressures me into going to a charity gala with her and then Christmas day I spend at her penthouse helping with dinner” It was only after she said it out loud that she remembered that her life would never be like that again. There were no more arguments about what she wore or whether it was ok to put her bow on the dinner table. The mom she knew was gone. “…but now she’s in prison…and I guess I am too” It was taking a dark turn fast. She needed to put the topic on to Domino. How about you?”

Domino caught on to Kate’s desperate attempt and took up her end of things. "No two Christmases have been exactly the same for me since I got my powers. I never had much of a permanent family, but I did always end up with people. Sometimes I'd just have a nice dinner and hang out with some friendly people, some years I end up in the middle of some fun wacky shit like fighting mutant penguins, heisting a fortune from a billionaire or helping an alien reindeer back to his home dimension. Only one of those three is a joke, by the way, and I'm not telling you which." Whatever two were true had been some insanely weird adventures with Deadpool.

“Ok but all of those sound awesome and I kinda wish they were all true. Not sure how well this Christmas will fare against whichever two are true”

"So far it's a chill time in good company." Domino said, finding herself wishing she had a drink to toast with as they finished putting up the lights. That’s when she noticed a flask laying on the serving counter, abandoned for whatever reason by Jessica Jones.

“I mean chill Christmases are good” Kate replied, her usual upbeat tone coming back.

Domino took two paper cups and poured out two drinks. "To a chill Christmas"

“Thanks” Kate took one of the paper cups offered and tapped it against hers. “To a chill Christmas”

—————————————————————

The pressure was beginning to weigh on Wanda Maximoff as she darted around the kitchen. The mental construct of making a fake Christmas special episode for one family already was a daunting task back when she subconsciously planned it for Westview, but to prepare enough food for the entire prison was beyond overwhelming. It didn’t help that she’d hyped it up so much in her head that it must be perfect and if she made a single mistake Christmas was ruined.

Taking intake of the well-stocked freezers and refrigerators – full of budget turkey cuts, cranberry sauce, and frozen vegetables – she was simply trying to get her mind to think straight. A part of her was probably putting so much stress on this one day because she lacked control of so many others, but right now she was far too busy to sit and dwell on the ‘why’ of her feelings. Why did her mental list of prep-work seem to keep getting longer the more tasks she did?

She made a sharp inhale and shut her eyes, hoping to alleviate a piercing headache she had brewing. It predictably didn’t do much to help and so she began pulling out what she could prepare today.

—————————————————————

Back in the yard, Jenn was centering the tree with Darcy being very (un)helpful. “Left…wait no right…wait sorry left again” she advised. Jennifer only grunted softly in annoyance, trying to follow Darcy’s directions as best she could. The tree wasn’t heavy, but it was incredibly awkward to handle. Its long branches of evergreen leaves swayed with every movement she made, narrowly avoiding scraping against the walls that surrounded the yard. They continued going back and forth like this until Kate and Domino approached, boxes of ornaments in hand.

Even though Jenn could barely see them as she wrestled with the tree, their arrival came as a huge relief."If either of you could give me more helpful positioning advice than Darcy here that would be great."

“Move it just slightly right” Kate advised, letting She-Hulk finally put the tree down neatly on the stand.

“Thanks” Jenn said.

Darcy looked offended that her assistance wasn’t appreciated. “I helped you get close” she remarked, feeling embarrassed.

Maybe it was the festive spirit in the air, but Jenn didn’t try and argue with her. Instead she just agreed: “You did”

“So what can we do to help?” Domino asked.

"Well, I guess now we should start putting the lights up." Jenn replied. "If anyone has a better eye for aesthetics than me, I'll take direction."

Working together, the prisoners decorated the tree with lights, baubles, tinsel, and even an orange-jumpsuited angel perched on top. With strings of lights running from the tree to the guard walkways around the yard, the effect was as beautiful as it was absurd. It was the most welcoming the yard had ever looked. All that was left was who got the honour of turning the lights on. It was Kate who suggested Wanda should be the one and she received no objections. At once the witch was summoned by the guards.

Standing before the marvelous Christmas tree, carefully ornately decorated far beyond her expectations for The Raft, Wanda uncharacteristically exclaimed: “It looks beautiful!” For the first time since Westview she felt an overwhelming sense of happiness as she accepted the honour and plugged in the lights. The tree and all its surrounding cords immediately came alight in spectacular fashion. Wanda couldn’t help but feel this Christmas was going to be the best it could possibly be given where they were.

—————————————————————

“This is the shittiest Christmas ever” Jessica Jones said moodily as she emerged from her shift in the mines, chains jingling like little bells with every tired step she took. Not even the decorations she saw on her way into the cellblock could put a smile on her dour face. What did liven her spirit a bit was the fact that she had a contraband flask of whiskey stashed under her pillow that she planned to down.

“I don’t know about that. I’ve been asking Santa for the sight of you in orange for a long time” Trish replied, walking beside her adopted-sister with a decisively more cheery outlook on things. Although, she wasn’t too dissimilar from Jessica in the fact that the decor didn’t mean much to her. No, what had her so happy was something a bit more…selfish. “Fun fact: the rate of depression increases in incarcerated women around the holidays”

Jessica narrowed her eyes at her in annoyed confusion. “How is that fun?”

“The more depressed people are, the more they turn to ways of feeling better. And believe me, people will do anything to feel better. That’s where I come in” Trish was of course referring to the higher number of drugs she’d managed to sell to desperate people. “I am basically rolling in cigarettes right now”

Jessica didn’t have the energy or…well energy again really to argue with Trish about the morality of that. A sarcastic “good for you” was the most she had in her to say. She was just a few steps away from her cell now.

“It’s actually good for us. Because you’re going to come with me since you’re my bodyguard” Trish smiled.

“It’s Christmas Eve. I’m not helping you. I’m going to drink what I can and then I’m going to pass out” Jessica said. Trish was right about seasonal depression leading people to alleviate it in the way they knew best, and there was no better example of that than Jessica who solidly planned to drink her way into the new year.

Trish was offended that her co-worker refused to help. “I’m sure Vanessa would love to hear that you just didn’t show up…” she threatened.

But the only response she received from Jessica was a middle finger as the detective walked into her room and prepared to crash. But first a drink. Except, there was only one issue…

“What the fuck?!” Jessica exclaimed, seeing that her blanket and pillow were missing. Worst of all: so was her whiskey.

—————————————————————

Sylvie and Natasha had been working down the lengthy list at a surprisingly efficient speed. For those on the list Wanda hadn’t been able to ask what they wanted directly, the unlikely pairing gave careful consideration. Hot sauce for Yelena, a cloak for Enchantress, an arrow necklace for Kate, and a non-armored curias for Sif were among a myriad of others. The Phoenix had asked specifically for “a memory of your first love, your first hate, your most brilliant excitement and your greatest terror” but that wasn’t really possible to give so they got her a new jumpsuit instead. And then there were specific requests on the part of others, like Kitty who’d said Rogue would like an all-black jumpsuit (this story is mostly non-canon so I’m not going to bother worrying about uniform regulations), or Riri who asked for a few ‘toys’ for herself and Shuri. Strangely, both Natasha and Sylvie were already marked off, implying their gifts had already been decided.

You may be wondering if things were awkward between the spy and the goddess, given that Natasha had famously previously fought to stop Loki in 2012. The answer was a resounding no. She’d known for some time that Sylvie wasn’t Loki. Not her Loki at least. There was a massive lack of the needed pompous narcissistic grandeur to the woman that went beyond a person simply changing over time.

“I'm still not sure about what to get for Big-Tits” Sylvie returned to the topic of Darcy, someone she’d struggled to find something for previously.

Nat rested against the conveyor belt for a moment, busy in thought. “A better bra?” she asked, knowing Darcy was one of very few inmates allotted one. Bras hadn’t always been banned at The Raft. Back in 2022 – when Natasha was freshly arrived at the ocean prison – they’d been a standard part of the uniform. That was until the Black Widow assassin used the underwire to stab someone in Hydra who didn’t understand that no meant no. Ever since then they’d been strictly forbidden, except for Darcy who’d managed to sleep with Renee for one. Unfortunately what she got was a size too small.

"Interesting. We do have more materials to work with, and she has complained of her current one itching..." Sylvie responded, noting that as Darcy’s present. The goddess didn’t really understand what the purpose of the gift-giving was, but she’d been to enough worlds to know just to go along with the customs.

“For Wanda, we can probably find DVDs of some of her favorite sitcoms” Natasha remembered the witch’s favorites pretty well since she seemingly watched them on repeat while staying at the Avenger’s Compound. When Nat went to add it to the list, she noted that it should allegedly be from Jean. She didn’t want Wanda to end up the victim of the mutant’s jealousy after all.

They continued coming up with ideas for another hour before Sylvie asked: “So, Natasha...Do you mind if I ask some questions about this whole 'Christmas' thing?"

“I’m not really a leading expert on what a normal Christmas is like, but sure” Nat replied. Christmases in the Red Room were non-existent. The most festive thing Natasha saw there was the sight of bright red blood on fresh snow when she was 12, she’d been forced to fight another one of the girls and – to put it gently – failures weren’t worth keeping alive. In Nat’s adult life, she saw the holiday as being just like every other day.

"To be frank, it wasn't a thing last time I was regularly on Midgard. The Winter Solstice was, is it a continuation of that?" The last winter she’d seen on the Midgard of her world had been as a child, brought alongside her sibling by Odin during the Yule festival. As gods, they’d been met with gloriously gory sacrifices in their honour. It was a fond memory.

“I think so. I don’t really know the exact order of things, but if I remember correctly it was a pagan festival taken by the Roman Empire and changed to fit their religion by making it about the birth of their god’s son” Nat tried to explain as much as she could without having to go over the entire shift from polytheism to monotheism, something rather awkward to explain to a living, breathing pagan god.

Sylvie nodded along, interested in her explanation. "I see. Thank you. Are there any particular behaviours or rituals, besides the gift giving, that I should be aware of?

“There’s a lot. Decorating a tree with lights, hanging stockings above a fire, making dinner, building snowmen, setting cookies and milk out for Santa” The spy remembered the basic American Christmas details she was taught just in case she was assigned to infiltrate the United States. She even had a few fake holiday memories that she could tell with a convincingly nostalgic tone if need be.

"Santa?" Sylvie interrupted, this being a whole facet of the holiday that had gone completely unexplained to her.

“Right, you wouldn’t know who that is. He’s a mythical figure with a long white beard who wears red and he travels the world in one night on a sleigh pulled by reindeer to give gifts to kids. He also has helpers called elves which you heard about earlier” Natasha’s tone dripped with a heavy verbal eye-roll as she relayed the absurd details.

Sylvie only shrugged. It wasn’t the weirdest deity she’d heard of.

—————————————————————

Kate was decorating Cellblock C alone at the moment, Domino having arranged to be searched alongside Jean for some strange reason. The archer didn’t mind though. Sure the other inmates were getting off work and returning to their cells and she didn’t have the protection or her scary Russian assassin friend, but it was the holidays. Surely no one was going to try and prey on her today, right?

Wrong. Kate looked down for a moment to grab a stocking she could hang and the next thing she knew she could feel someone wrapping one arm around her chest to grope her and the other down going down her thigh. “Look at that, an early present just for me. Yelena isn’t here to protect you now…” they whispered in her ear.

Kate tensed, not knowing whether she should stay still or fight. Every instinct in her wanted to fight back, but she remained frozen in place as they fiddled with the zipper to her jumpsuit. It wasn’t until it was halfway open that her senses returned to her and she managed to break free long enough to spin around and see who her assaulter was: Elektra.

She’d been on her way back from the mines when she saw Kate bent over and she just couldn’t resist. Sure she had a harem, but there was just something so tempting about stealing from Yelena Belova. She had to have the girl. Blowing off a warning from Cassandra Webb, she’d gone ahead and resolved to make the archer her bitch.

“C-Come on, It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t you please just leave me alone for today?” Kate attempted to plead as she stepped back against the wall.

Elektra only smirked. “And miss a chance like this?

Kate attempted to take a swing at her, but her arm was caught mid throw. “You won’t be a fighter for long” Elektra taunted, it requiring no effort at all for the trained assassin to re-apprehend Kate in her tight, handsy embrace. “We’re going to have so much fun…”

—————————————————————

“I love the holidays” Rio grinned as she danced around a very unhappy Agatha in their cell. Having already stripped her ex naked, she reached into a box of baubles, carefully assessing which she would choose. Taking a shiny green one in hand, she warned: “this might tickle” just before she put the hook into one of the little holes that spotted the chastity belt that still caged Agatha’s pussy. She paused to look at it dangling from the belt and then she began to whistle carols (none of which had been heard since The Black Death) while digging for another ornament. Up went a red one, and then a golden one, then a blue snowflake, and so on. Next came a very thin string of garland that she delicately weaved through whatever gaps she could find, letting its itchy bristles rub against Agatha’s seemingly-constantly wet womanhood as a means of taunting the witch.

“You’re psychotic” Agatha sneered with disgust, looking down in frustration at what Rio was doing to her. She couldn’t help but flinch as an ornament hook rubbed against her labia.

“Sweet words won’t get you out of this, dear. I’m having way too much fun. Now hold still or…” Rio conjured a dagger out of nowhere “...I’ll slit your throat”

Agatha felt the sting of Rio adding another item, this time digging at the top rim of her cage. “You left me alone for centuries, why did you come back? To torment me?” She asked with clear spite in her tone.

Rio only laughed. “Just think of how many Christmases together we missed. I’m just rekindling our relationship” She stepped behind Agatha and pulled out a small string of lights which she then began to add to the already overdone decor. “It’s too bad you didn’t get yourself belted sooner”

“It’s your fault. You knew this would happen” Agatha accused. Rio only gave her a playful shrug and flashed a mischievous smile. Annoyed by the cavalier attitude, Agatha continued: “After what you did I deserved to be warned”

“Maybe. But you love me anyway” Rio got on her knees and pressed her tongue against the cold metal that assured Agatha would never cum again. Licking her way all the way up to her ex’s tits, she tauntingly bit at her nipple, only restrained enough to not actually hurt…too much. Then she began to kiss it, flicking her tongue against Agatha’s hardened pink mound.

Agatha could feel the burning in her core grow hotter, yearning harder for a release she logically knew wouldn’t come but which she absolutely needed. Growing excited, she couldn’t help but moan…which Rio decided was the cue to stop. Just like that it came crashing down again, killing any delusion of possibly getting off. “I hate you” she spat.

“I hate you too” Rio replied without a beat, speaking those words in the same cadence one might say ‘I love you’
She stepped back again and admired her work on the heavy breathing witch, the gaudy twinkling Christmas tree-esque chastity belt on display in all its festive glory. Ornaments now filled any holes or potential openings they possibly could, with lights and garland twisted around. It looked awful but Agatha was relieved that at least it was over. Rio had had her fun but there was only so much one could fit…except Rio thought it was missing something. “Candy canes” she smiled, holding up a box of them.

—————————————————————

Returning to the surface, Yelena was astonished by the decor that filled the usually depressingly futuristic halls of The Raft and she wanted to find Kate, but first she needed to eat…

“No! I don’t have the patience for this today. Get out!” Wanda hissed at Yelena as the cooking instruments all around rattled and shook, stirring pots and pans and cutting up vegetables. Cooking went a lot faster when she used a bit of spellwork. She was still very busy and she absolutely did not have time to deal with someone breaking into her kitchen.

Yelena scoffed, insulted that she wasn’t allowed to simply come and go as she pleased, but wasn’t about to challenge a mentally unstable witch currently holding a knife. The spy was usually pretty hungry after spending a few hours toiling away, but apparently she’d just have to starve!

Since eating clearly wasn’t an option, Yelena decided she’d go and find Kate. When she found her she was on her knees trying to refuse to lap away at Elektra's pussy, with Elektra's hand laced into her ponytail pressing her face against her cunt. The assassin had a satisfied smirk on her face as she moaned, feeling on top of the world at the moment. But that was about to change.

In a fury Yelena marched over and pulled Kate back before punching Elektra across the face as hard as she could. The assassin barely had time to recover before she was met with another blow, and then being shoved against the wall with her right arm being twisted behind her back.

“Did you cum yet?” Yelena asked in a chillingly calm voice as she kept Elektra’s face pressed to the wall.
Elektra chuckled. She knew she’d fucked up but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Maybe. Why do you care? Can’t share?”she foolishly teased…met in turn with her arm being pulled until it felt like it could go no further without breaking. The pain was intense and she quickly replied: “N-No. I didn’t”

Yelena smiled and loosened the strain a bit. “That is good…for you. I would have broken your arm if you did” She spun Elektra around until she was leaned face to face with Kate. “Say sorry to Kate Bishop” The spy insisted.

Kate stared into Elektra’s pained eyes, still horrified by what the woman had just tried making her do.

“I’m sorry” Elektra angrily sighed, sounding about as genuine as a women’s prison was straight.

Yelena twisted her arm again “Try again”

“Ow! Ow! I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Elektra screeched, knowing Yelena snapping her arm clean out of its socket wasn’t a hollow threat. The spy absolutely wasn’t above violence.

Kate shyly nodded, feeling disgusted inside. “I-I accept your apology” She quickly got up and fixed her clothes. She wanted to move on from this as quickly as possible.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now bend over more” Yelena commanded, shoving Elektra into the position;

“What?” Elektra exclaimed. The next thing she knew her jumpsuit and underwear were down to the floor and Yelena was coming up behind her with a sadistic sense of glee about her. She’d retrieved something from the box of Christmas decor but Elektra couldn’t see what it was. The sense of mystery only made this so much worse.

The item she couldn’t see was a long, comically thick peppermint stick, which Yelena slowly admired before ramming it up Elektra with considerable force. The fact that she’d taken things back there before was only a slight relief because the object penetrated her quickly…but definitely not painlessly. The assassin screamed in agony, losing all dignity she possibly could have. “Fuck you!” She cursed frantically as if it would help alleviate the pain.

Kate watched and honestly she didn’t feel that bad for Elektra. It was actually a little cathartic to see the woman who was so tough and frightening moments ago now a yelling mess – and because of something as silly as a candystick no less. Maybe there were some situations where Yelena’s sadism was warranted…

With Elektra struggling to walk away, Yelena turned to her cellmate. “Are you ok, Kate Bishop?”

“Me? Yeah I’m fine. I think you did way worse to her than she did to me” Kate replied, adrenaline from the struggle starting to settle.

—————————————————————

Finishing off Jessica’s flask of whiskey with a swig, Maya stepped into her cell holding a blanket and pillow with a little bow she’d stolen perched on top. Cassie was already in their cell, sitting on the floor solemnly with her head between her knees. She missed her home, her parents, and Christmas trees that weren’t surrounded by walls with barbed wire. Feeling down, she tried to make plans with Amy, but Amy had ditched her when the Stepford Cuckoos offered her the possibility of ‘slipping down her chimney’ if she ‘earned her way on to the naughty list’. Amy didn’t understand what either euphemism really meant but she was all in nonetheless, abandoning her friend in the process.

Maya noticed her slave looked rather glum and so she excitedly held out the blanket and pillow, non-verbally saying she’d gotten the girl a present.

Cassie looked up and her eyes glistened at the uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture. “Thank you so much!” She exclaimed, surprised, as she accepted the present. The blanket she had currently was Maya’s masturbation blanket and it felt immensely wrong and smelled worse. But this one looked freshly washed. “Wow…this is so nice of you, Maya”

She felt immensely grateful, both for the gift and the fact that Maya was having one of her random moments of being nice. Rubbing the soft blanket against her face, she hugged her present tight. She’d never been so excited to get bedding as a Christmas present. Why was Maya staring at her? She recognised the look, Maya expected something. Here she was cherishing her gift…and she didn’t have anything for Maya. “Oh…I-I didn’t know we were getting each other anything…I’m so sorry! Please Maya! I-I’ll find you something”

Maya rolled her eyes, clearly hurt. She ripped the pillow out of Cassie's grasp and threw it on the top bunk, taking back half of the present to keep for herself since clearly her cellmate was so selfish. Instead Cassie could use her butt as a pillow as punishment. At least she let Cassie keep the blanket.

—————————————————————

“It’s really deep…” Karen said, face pressed against Elektra’s shapely tanned ass. She didn’t want to spend her Christmas Eve licking her prison mommy’s crack trying to pull a peppermint stick out, but it wasn’t like she had much choice in the matter. Despite how much she worked her tongue, and she’d been going for an hour now, she couldn’t seem to pull it loose. The stick was big and jammed in tight, Yelena probably had shoved it as far as it could go.

“I don’t care! Just get it out!” Elektra snapped, laying on the bottom bunk with her clothes off and butt presented. She felt humiliated, violated, and sore. Those were all things her bitches were supposed to feel, not her. She hated to imagine what onlookers may think.

Peppermint was a flavour Karen really liked, but she already knew that the taste was pretty much forever ruined now that she’d paired it with the disgusting taste of Elektra’s butt. This was yet another thing she liked ruined by prison.

Cassandra Webb sat in the corner beside Faiza Hussain watching it all play out. “I tried to tell you that it was a bad idea…” She started to say, but was met with the most soul-crushing death glare from Elektra. The sight made Cassandra’s head throw back as she suddenly had a vision of Elektra, now with the item out of her butt, pushing her against the bars and shoving the peppermint stick up her now.

—————————————————————

"This collar limits my usually infinite vision of time and space...but I still see many possibilities. I can foresee over 300 delightful ways in which you die by my hand, officer” The Phoenix said in a dark and sinister voice as a guard took her by the shoulder and bent her over the exam table. Despite how much power she held within the inmate population, she was still an inmate and that meant she was no less a toy for the guard’s delight than Wanda was hers. She was helpless to the spank to the ass she received…or the latex-clad fingers abruptly being rammed up ass. Usually she left Jean to experience this humiliation but she was bored.

“300? That’s it? For an ancient goddess made of cosmic force or whatever you’re not very creative” the guard teased, unfazed by the threat.

"It would be more if you were more interesting." The Phoenix snarked back. Admittedly she enjoyed the guard’s work, shamelessly bucking her hips to the fingers digging for any contraband the cosmic-entity-contained-within-a-human may possess. She hated subservience, but why should a god not take pleasure from mortals?

Shallow gasps escaped The Phoenix’s lips as the guard continued to grow rougher, giving no consideration for what delightful pain it may cause. She clawed at the table as her body swayed from the force of rhythmic thrusts, the guard’s fingers slipping in and out repeatedly. The convict bent down as far as she could go and, excitedly, she began to rub her now very wet womanhood against the lip of the table.

Just as the guard thrusted in again, The Phoenix came with a roar, spraying the table with no care for the poor inmate who would have to clean it up later. She’d gotten what she wanted out of this search and so now Jean was given back control.

Domino was slammed down next to Jean and her guard began the same process The Phoenix had just undergone. "So, first off, Merry Christmas” Domino said with a wince, turning to look at Jean while her ebony rear was penetrated.

“Merry Christmas” Jean returned, a little less enthusiastically given that her orgasm had once again been stolen by her other half. The only relief she felt was the possibility that one orgasm would be enough to keep The Phoenix satisfied and that she could use Wanda to get off without any interruption later.

"I wanted to talk to you because I wrote a little something this afternoon. Something I thought you could do something with, given your abilities..." Domino propositioned between breaths. Maybe it was having to work on Christmas Eve or they were just horny, but her guard was feeling extra rough today.

Domino didn’t have to share aloud the poem she’d written because Jean gave her mind a read. Her response was mild, but she couldn't deny that she was impressed. She knew where Domino was going with this… “Normally I don’t take requests on what I fill people’s heads with, but lucky for you I am in a festive mood. I’ll find something to do with this”

—————————————————————

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through The Raft
Not an inmate was stirring, only nightshift staff;
The stockings were hung by the cell-bars with care,
In hopes that the Scarlet Witch would soon be there;”

Christmas Eve night came and the decorated cellblock lay entirely quiet. All the inmates were sound asleep in their bunks. Not even the moans of two lusty prisoners could be heard, or the subtle sloshes of a particularly bored and pent up lady. It was a completely silent night.

“The inmates were nestled all snug in their cells,
Dreaming dreams of their free lives, before this hell;
And Weaver in her office, and I at her feet,
Had just settled after her cunt I did eat”

Pussy juice on her lips and kneeled under Officer Weaver’s desk, Domino found herself in a familiar scene. The narrating voice of Jean read aloud the poem she’d shared, and, grinning up at Weaver, she knew this surely would be a dream to remember. The inmate’s clothes were undone down to her waist while from the waist down Weaver’s pants were gone entirely.

“When suddenly, there was a general alarm
Weaver ran, and I followed, for what was the harm,
To the monitor she went, while I took pains,
Not to trip, as I followed in my short chains,”

Just as the commentary instructed, Domino stumbled along in her tight vibranium shackles. Padding along, her steps were small but quick, despite how the cold metal pressed against her ankles, in an effort to keep up with Weaver’s dash to the monitors. Neither had bothered to get dressed of course.

Outside The Raft the winds whipped with a bitingly icy fervour, dancing within its gale a fearsome snowstorm. Faster and faster it roared with a holler, beckoning tempest to brew on the rough ocean waves down below.

“The moon, as we saw, on the hologram screen,
Gave the prison's steel hull a dazzling sheen,
And, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an asgardian sleigh, and eight ponygirl reindeer,”

Jennifer Walters had fallen asleep pretty soundly, reverting to human form as usual. As she started to dream, she realised...she was colder than usual. And were those sleigh bells? She groaned as she looked down at herself, in a brown corset and bondage straps, her arms behind her back with binders. Her breasts, pussy and ass were all on display, of course, and she was wearing ridiculous boots. More to the point, she seemed to be flying...in a snow-storm...and reined next to Captain Marvel in an identical outfit.

Similarly confused, Carol Danvers tossed and turned in her bed in the infirmary ward, having spent most of her day medicated she knew little of the festive cheer that had spread around The Raft. She’d been dreaming of strange fragments of her life on Earth before she gained her powers, so when she suddenly was flying midair with straps on…it came as a bit of a surprise to say the least.

Sylvie Laufeydottir was usually an easy sleeper. One needed to be when one slept in some of the places she’d had to. Her dreams tended to be of apocalypses and mythic battles, and Loki, and they tended to be pretty lucid...but as she slowly emerged into tonight's dreamscape, she realised she was not in control.

Riri Williams cuddled naked with Shuri. Usually she dreamed of making wild inventions, ideas she couldn't manifest in prison, but her perfect lab in Wakanda started to give way to something else entirely. As for Shuri, she knew something was wrong when her idyllic Wakandan summer turned to darkness and cold winds.

Often Valkyrie dreamed of glorious and not-so-glorious battles from her past. Through the flames of Muspelheim or the frosts of Hel, but tonight there was no blade in her grasp and she was seemingly bound.

Darcy’s dreams were always very weird, whether they be her naked and getting chased by clowns or fantasies about Thor, but this one was especially weird. She was flying in a blizzard? Ok yeah sure

Dazzler had literally no inkling of what had happened today, and so it came as a great shock when she felt ponygirl straps (which she recognised as such because of a few dalliances of the yearly Hellfire Club orgy) on her skin.

And at the reins was Wanda Maximoff herself. Her sleep was almost as chaotic as the magic she once had. She could be tortured, caring for her sons, or being abused by The Phoenix in her sleep, but dashing through the skies in an eight-ponygirl reindeer open sleigh was certainly a new one.

They each could hear Jean’s voice in the air, reciting the poem with a sultry smirk in her tone that still managed to sound convincingly threatening. "What the fuck?" is what Dazzler tried to say, discovering that she had a bit in her mouth

“With a hot bombshell driver, a phoenix's bitch,
I knew in a moment she must be the witch.
More rapid than eagles her ponies they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:”

Wanda figured this must be some mental construct created by her girlfriend and, seemingly not involving painful memories of losing her children or Vision, simply chose to go along with it. She couldn’t help but smile at the jolly absurdity. With a crack of the reigns she called out in tow:
"Now, Dazzler! Now, Darcy! Now Brunnhilde and Sylvie!
On, She-Hulk! on, Carol! on, Riri and Shuri!
To the top of the guard towers! To the bars of the cells!
Now onto A-block and B-block and C-block as well!"

Shuri looked at Riri, absolutely lost as to what was happening. She was flying and mostly naked. There was a weird poem being read in Jean’s voice and her nipples were hard from the cold. Nothing made sense. Wide-eyed and terrified, she was completely at a loss. Meanwhile, Sylvie was starting to semi-understand things. A sleigh and reindeer...her conversation with Nat told her enough to get the cultural reference at least. She didn't know the poem, but could make some educated guesses. She simply shrugged and started galloping like a reindeer. Valkyrie then started to kick beside her, but out of a futile hope it would make things go faster.

Carol’s patience with whatever was happening was quickly waning as the frost hit right through the corset she was wearing. She now kind of missed the infirmary. She was once Captain Marvel, but now she was dressed up in…whatever…this was and apparently the plaything of the witch who cost her an eye.

“As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So into the quinjet hangar, they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and the Scarlet Witch too—”
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the hull
The panting and whining each reigned-up girl.”

Weaver and Domino watched the sleigh land atop The Raft off the monitors with awe. It wasn’t as if any of this dream was a genuine security risk. Besides, there was something genuinely heartwarming about seeing Wanda let out a laugh as she hopped off the sleigh with a mighty sack full of presents in her grasp. With a twist of her hand and flicker of her fingers, red chaos magic circled around her and then she appeared beneath the ventilation shaft.

“...Ok now we should probably follow her” Weaver said, dashing to Cellblock A and leaving Domino to try and keep up.

“Down the ventilation shaft the witch came with a bound.
And was dressed all in orange, from her head to her feet,
Save for a santa-hat she wore as a treat,
A bundle of toys she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a pedler just opening her pack.
Her eyes—how they twinkled! her dimples, how merry!
Her hair was like roses, her ass like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the power of infinity made her skin glow;
The stump of a cigarette tight in her teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled her head like a wreath;
She had a tight body and a firm little belly
And tits that could shake, like a bowl full of jelly.
She was bubbly and happy, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;”

Wanda blushed slightly at the flattering description Jean’s narrating voice gave her. Her prison mommy almost never actually said how beautiful she found her. The witch didn’t know that technically Jean didn’t think that but instead Domino had (since she’d written the poem).

Rushing into Cellblock A came Weaver and Domino, but Wanda only smiled softly at them in mild embarrassment and then gave them a wink.

“A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And gave gifts to all inmates; then turned with a jerk,”

Down through Cellblocks A to D Wanda filled the stockings with colourful presents, laughing to herself all the way. It was the happiest dream she’d had in a very long time. Out in the yard the ponygirl reindeers landed with a bound, dashing through snow and ice. They would now have to wait here for the Scarlet Santa to return and hopefully let them all go. Experimentally, Dazzler tried going "mpph" into the gag three times in succession. That was the safe-word at the Hellfire Club. It didn’t seem to work here though.

Carol and Valkyrie shared a look of annoyance and humiliation at this whole scenario just as Domino entered the yard, grinning and waving at the bound up inmates.

Wanda returned, task now complete. She tossed her emptied bag atop the sleigh and stared at Domino just as the doors all around opened with dozens of armed guards led by Weaver charged out to apprehend the sleigh of women. “Cute look girls, but I’m afraid this is definitely against a few rules” the lusty guard grinned. “Hands in the air, witch”

“As guards rushed in to subdue the intruder,
She gave in with a grunt, and nothing ruder
She and the ponies were led out of the yard,
And away they all went to be strip-searched quite hard.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she went out of sight—”

The cuffs locked themselves around Wanda’s wrists but she couldn’t have been happier at the moment. “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

—————————————————————

Darcy awoke with a start from her insane fever-dream, remembering that she was still topless with Ghost using her tits as her pillow when she accidentally shoved her mistress awake. Oh and it was Christmas Morning now.

Ghost startled awake. "Good morning." she said, not yet clocking that anything was up.

“Ok so I just had the absolute weirdest dream. Like really weird” Darcy immediately exclaimed. “I was bound and dressed like a reindeer and forced to pull Scarlet Witch’s sleigh”

Ghost raised her eyebrows. "Dressed like a reindeer?" She wasn’t sure why she focused on that detail specifically.

“Yep” Darcy nodded. “Dressed like a reindeer. I had these straps on, a thing in my mouth, and fake antlers. Oh also a weirdly kinky version of Twas The Night Before Christmas was being narrated”

Ghost looked bemused. "Well, I guess you have that on the brain. Do try and remember the version of the poem for later."

-

Shuri looked at Riri as they awoke naked in each-others' embrace. "So..." she said awkwardly. "...Did you just have a really weird dream too?"

“…Reindeer?” Riri asked, still bewildered

"Yeah." Shuri’s cheeks burned. "So...we both had it. That means telepathy shenanigans. But...why?"

-

Sylvie woke up and dropped from her bunk to greet Brunnhilde. "I assume I wasn't alone in having a dream about strange poetry, sleighs and corsets?"

“You aren’t…” Valkyrie stretched her arms and let out a loud yawn. “I wonder which mutant telepath created it”

"Whoever it was, I hope she didn't give Weaver ideas about doing it for real."

-

Jean opened her eyes and looked down to the bunk below. Wanda was already awake, smiling to herself.

“Thank you for that” the witch said graciously, feeling slightly more in love with Jean than she’d felt in a while. Maybe somewhere deep down her mutant mistress cared about her? The answer was no but don’t tell Wanda that.

Jean rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it. Happy Christmas."

“Happy Christmas” Wanda replied, just glad to see her girlfriend in a slightly better mood for once.

—————————————————————

After a breakfast in line with usual prison expectations, the inmates who would usually be sent to their labour assignments were instead allowed to go to the yard where hundreds of orange boxes beneath the tree awaited them.

Shuri opened her present and found a tin bracelet, with tribal signifiers of the Panther tribe that almost made her cry. It wasn’t the vibranium original, of course, but even the facsimile of her Wakandan identity was a rare treasure in this place. She smiled, put it on...then saw Riri open her present and what lay within made Shuri’s cheeks warm up.

“Cool bracelet” Riri adored the intricately engraved piece of jewelry adorning her girlfriend’s wrist. She then tilted her gift towards her to show the ‘toys’ rattling about within.

Shuri bit her lip. Now would have either been a really good, or really bad time to say something bratty.
With a naughty smile, she said: "Surprising you didn't ask Santa for a speaker to throw at people, huh?"

“Oh you’re lucky we’re opening presents right now” Riri remarked. “Can’t say I’m not gonna correct that when we get back to our cell though…” she playfully fired back, pulling one of the items from the box and threatening Shuri with it.

“Here you go!” Gwendolyn Poole over-enthusiastically shoved a small box into a groggy Laura Kinney’s hands.

Laura felt put on the spot. She didn't like being the center of attention, but Gwen now repeatedly chanting “open it” annoyed her into complying. If it would make the fangirl shut up it would be worth it. Ripping open the box she suddenly paused, taken aback by the perfect gift contained within. Resting on a bed of wrapping paper were a pair of pink and light blue sunglasses that would look entirely unusual on the angsty mutant…but she loved them. She had no idea how Gwendolyn knew that she’d stolen a pair just like them when she was on the run, but It didn’t matter.

Gwendolyn beamed with unblinking eyes, creepy as ever. “Going by that little smile you’ve got going on I’m gonna go ahead and guess you must absolutely LOVE them! They’re your trademark after all” She mused aloud. “...So what’d you get me? It better be at least half as good as what I got you”

Laura put on the sunglasses, feeling incredibly cool. “My gift for you is every time I refrain from gutting you”

“I love hot sauce” Yelena exclaimed, opening her box to find something she sorely missed. Meals had been lacking since she got locked up but it would be a great addition. She cherished the bottle while beside her Kate put on her new necklace.

Natasha smirked at her sister, knowing it was the perfect thing for Yelena. But what was in her box? Slowly she opened the box expecting something simple like maybe a new jumpsuit, only to be staggered to find a pair of orange ballet slippers. With a soft smile on her face she looked up to Wanda in gratitude at the amazing gift. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad…

Agatha rolled her eyes as she opened her gift, not trusting anything Rio could possibly be giving her. It didn’t take clairvoyance to guess that it would be some very un-funny joke at her expense. Pulling out her new possession, she grimaced at her ex when what should she find but a big black lump of coal. Having successfully annoyed Agatha, Rio blew her a kiss and then walked off into the crowd.

“So um like I know neither of us celebrate this holiday…but I like heard Wanda was doing gifts and I got you something” Kitty handed Rogue a box covered in black wrapping paper.

“Kitty, why are you puttin’ this on me? Now I’ll feel bad because I don’t have anythin’ for you…” Rogue replied, never really knowing what to say when people gave her things.

Kitty sighed. “Just open it”

Undoing the box Rogue found something that made her dark heart skip a beat. “This is dreadful!” she said in a complimentary tone, holding up her new all-black jumpsuit.

But not everyone shared in Rogue’s rare enthusiasm for a new outfit. Titania had been overjoyed to get a present (because why wouldn’t she like getting things?) but what she found really killed her festive cheer. “Ew! What the fuck is this?” she whined, finding a red and white striped jumpsuit instead of anything she might actually like. She handled the outfit like the mere act of touching its cheap material risked infection.

“...Yeah I don’t know how to put a positive light on that” Dazzler chuckled, strumming at the strings of her new guitar.

“Thick horizontal lines are not flattering!” Titania continued to rant to her friend, insulted.

Jessica Jones, standing moodily in the back observing everything, drank from a cup of spiked eggnog. Trish had gotten her the booze, and the eggnog came courtesy of a guard. Oh and she now had a brand new orange scarf around her throat that she quietly really liked. She watched as Valkyrie found within her box a small crown, rather similar to one a child may have minus the Norse runes, and immediately put it atop her head.

“All hail the king” Sylvie quipped to her crown-wearing friend as she opened a present of her own. There was a flowing cloak made of the same material as Sylvie’s jumpsuit with a few runic patterns sewn around the rim. Starting from the right the first line reads ‘prisoner,’ the next simply was ‘Sylvie,’ and the last was ‘Weaver’s bitch.’ The Goddess of Mischief appreciated her favourite guard’s show of affection.

Wanda held a box of The Dick Van Dyke Show DVDs close to her chest, giving Jean a loving look. The dream and now this? She had no idea what had come over her girlfriend but she wished it would last. In all actuality Jean was just as surprised by the gift as Wanda though. She knew Natasha was behind it and she didn’t like the move on her girl one bit. Something would have to be done…but tomorrow. It was Christmas. Revenge could wait.

Officer Weaver, big wrapped gift in hand, emerged from the crowd to greet She-Hulk. “Merry Christmas!” The guard announced, shoving the present at the inmate.

Weaver’s enthusiasm already made Jenn nervous as she opened the box with trepidation. What she found within was far worse than anything she could imagine though. There was a very large green bikini, a long cord of flashing red and green lights, yellow tinsel, a couple candy canes, and a green hairband with a comically large golden star on top. Jenn gave the guard a withering look, silently saying 'really?'

“I put in a lot of work finding the perfect present for you, but in all honesty this one comes from Titania. She knew exactly what to get you when I asked for some ideas” Weaver said.

Jenn saw Titania tauntingly wave at her from across the yard. She wanted to punch her but chose to try and ignore the influencer. "I don't suppose I get any choice in the matter?"

“We both know you’re smart enough to know the answer. Now put it on” Weaver glared at her with a hint of disappointment that Jenn could possibly not like being humiliated by this gift.

Jenn sighed, and began changing into the ridiculous costume, stripping out of her leotard in front of everyone to put it on. Even amidst all the merriment, a massive green giant stripping naked and then putting on a green bikini took hold of just about everyone’s attention that made her blush deep green. She met Weaver's gaze as she stood dressed in the small bikini. "Merry Christmas." she said through gritted teeth.

The outfit didn’t fit right at all, in fact it was three sizes too small, both pieces far too tight for the gamma-irradiated hero. In fact, so small were they that they barely managed to conceal anything at all. They did the complete bare minimum of coverage. She-Hulk’s big green nipples practically pierced through the thin fabric, and down below it left her with a cameltoe so bad she might as well have chosen to just walk around naked from the waist down. Worst of all, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to change out of the outfit until the 26th.

Weaver pulled out the components to start decorating her. First using the blaring lights to bind her, then the tinsel wrapped around the spaces between, and then she grabbed ahold of her shoulder and climbed up to place the star on top of her head. Jenn began a half-formed crack about how well needless humiliation fit with the holiday cheer, but she only made it one word in before being gagged with a candy cane.

“This would be such a great Christmas card” Weaver remarked as she snapped more than a few pictures of Christmas Tree Jen…and then promptly abandoned her in the middle of the yard to sort out her bindings.

—————————————————————

Everything was set now. The lights all aglow all across the prison and every cellblock decked with boughs of holly, the merry measures of Wanda’s work done and joy to the whole prison! An instrumental ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played throughout the prison speaker systems as inmates gathered near around a grand table in the cafeteria, food set out on trays before them.

Across the table the inmates chatted over Christmas dinner. Natasha joked with Yelena and attempted to get to know Kate a bit better, bonding in surprise over how good the prison food was for once. Sylvie feasted alongside her Shieldmaidens like vikings in a longhouse. Jessica and Trish reminisced over previous Christmases together, often culminating in Jessica getting black-out drunk but the build up to that point was usually pretty funny. The Arachnachicks discussed their respective lives post-incarceration. Even gangs and bitter rivalries made peace – at least for today. Against all odds, Black Cat and her harem joked and chatted, dropping all animosity they shared for one another.

Watching everyone’s delight, Wanda gathered a spoonful of cranberry sauce and roast. As she took her first bite of the meal she’d prepared, she was allowed to simply feel proud of herself…even if just for a moment.

Chapter Text

Head held high, Medusa walked with a regality ill-fitting to the world in which she now dwelled. Each step down the hall of cells was careful, restrained and precise in the most lady-like manner. Her countenance was unreadable, something which could easily be perceived as happy or angry – or perhaps a mix of both. Her attention did not linger long on sights of carnality, not swayed even by the triumphant moan which escaped an impassioned Sylvie Laufeydottir’s lips as she came on a dutifully lapping Jane Foster. Nor did she pause to watch as Elektra ripped Karen Page’s jumpsuit wide open and bent the poor journalist over to best showcase the arse she planned to sell. That wasn’t to say though that the former Queen of the Inhumans was completely devoid of the sexual interests which so commonly prevailed in The Raft.

In fact, following close behind her was Ayesha, once the High Priestess of The Sovereign, now reduced to nothing more than bottom bitch of the Galaxy Gals. Wearing only a bright orange bikini made up of scraps from what had once been her jumpsuit, her golden skin, glimmering with a thick layer of sweat from a debilitating five hour shift in the vibranium mines, was for all to see. It was an outfit “given” to her by Carol Danvers after a humiliating defeat and hasteful claiming that the priestess had never truly recovered from. She was sure to express her displeasure…when she wasn’t busy being face-ridden by every manner of incarcerated alien from Krylorians to Eternal. Today she’d been given no choice but to walk with Medusa, who had her leashed around the throat with a strand of rose-red hair that, no matter how hard she tried to break free from, wouldn’t give up. Medusa wasn’t her usual prison mommy. Carol was usually the one to deal with her favourite, and only, golden beauty but, in the Captain’s absence, Medusa had taken it upon herself to deal with her.

“One day you’ll pay dearly for this!” Ayesha spat, ultimately powerless in her position. Despite years of being the prison’s plaything, she’d never quite learned when to shut up. The response she received was simply being dragged along, bare feet stumbling on the concrete ground. It continued like this for the rest of the walk, until they neared their stop. Admittedly, Ayesha was growing increasingly nervous. She’d been sold out many times, but Carol always had the dignity to tell her who to. Medusa offered none of the same courtesy. “W-Who are you selling me to?”

Arriving in the yard, Medusa spun Ayesha in front and released her. The answer to her previous question came when she saw Nebula, Proxima Midnight, and Supergiant sitting together on a bench staring hungrily (the three had begun to associate in the interim of chapters). It was as if a nice shiny Anulax Battery had just been placed in front of three starving Abilisks because they took no pause before grabbing her. Proxima Midnight was the first to approach the cowering Ayesha, grinning sadistically as she practically ripped the bitch’s clothes off.

“Uh-uh. You know the rules. Pay first..” Medusa actually dared wag her finger at Proxima…but reluctantly the tough alien grabbed the usual fee and handed it over. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Medusa smiled, turning her back as Nebula got up and began violating Ayesha.

Quietly she could hear Supergiant murmur, “Prissy bitch” but the queen paid it no mind. She had another stop to make.

—————————————————————

Agatha Harkness groaned in abject misery as her continued attempts at clawing at the chastity belt that clung to her waist failed. No matter what angle she tried, what form of friction she attempted, she simply couldn’t fit her fingers down the thin gap between cold metal and her throbbing pussy. She’d only been back from the mines for an hour and already she’d spent what should have been a nice break glaring at the cruel device like it was some age-old foe. It was during today’s shifts in the mine that the torment truly escalated in the form of a tongue. It moved in rapid laps that stroked against her labia and her clit. But they hadn’t allowed her over the edge. And they hadn’t stopped. She’d almost come numerous times over now. Almost being the operative word. No matter how long they stroked her, no matter how close to the edge she got, she was never allowed over. It was Hell (or Limbo to be more accurate). And so Agatha persisted in loudly trying to break free of her bindings, both through physical and magical means.

“How’s the quest for cumming going?” Rio Vidal asked as she sauntered into their cell, continuing a theme of just randomly showing up. Casually, she leaned back on a chair and began reading through a book she’d found among Agatha’s things. She not-so-secretly enjoyed her ex’s whimpers. Reading the book wasn’t a break between exacerbating the witch’s failed attempts at masturbating so much as it was its own form of infuriating behaviour. All in all, their reunion had been far better than she expected (or did she know this would happen all along?).

Agatha continued her attempts at picking the lock with her fingernail before looking to Rio with uncharacteristic desperation. “I’ve tried everything to get rid of this belt and it won’t come off. This is cruel.” She sighed. “If I had my purple back I could tear this stupid thing in half…but some witches don’t know how to share power” AKA Agatha was still bitter about not being able to sacrifice the lives of her coven. Chastity truly had taught her the error of her ways.

“Are you wanting my help?” Death smirked at the vulnerability. “It used to take me a whole night to make you beg. How the mighty have fallen.” Those nights often involved leaning Agatha over a cauldron and finding some incredibly creative places to put a broomstick, or the blunt end of a scythe if Death was feeling extra kinky.

Agatha knew better than to trust Death when she said she would help, but was far too horny to care. It wasn’t exactly a fair outlook to not trust her, since she’d helped her far more than anyone else in history, but some scars wouldn’t heal. And they had a scar that cut down to the bone. Regardless, Agatha pleaded: “Take it off. Please.”

Rio set her book down and looked intently at her beloathed. “Why would I want to do that? You know how much I love seeing you desperate, sweetheart”

“Then at least help me get off. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything-” Agatha moaned and kicked her legs out as the tongue below licked at her clit. She really was getting desperate. The last time she’d begged like this was for something very different.

Rio conjured a dagger that she liked to play with when bored. “I’ve heard that from people a billion times before…just before I reap them.” She turned the tip of the blade against her thumb and drew it down the length of her finger without cutting herself. Hearing a groan from Agatha, who knew the dagger thing was Rio’s way of showing disinterest, she thought it over. “...But because I love you I’ll help. What do you want me to do?”

The purple witch perked up, excited but careful not to show any gratitude. She wasn’t about to go soft just because someone was willing to show her mercy. “I’m sure you must know a way.”

“I do, but it’s so much more fun to see you struggle.” Rio shrugged.

Agatha wasn’t shy to undress, standing up and letting her jumpsuit fall to the floor. Without hesitation she dropped her underwear down her legs and then straddled her locked up crotch against one of the bars. The witch had never been reserved about people seeing her body, and her current state wasn’t about to change that. Giving a confidently unashamed look to the gawking women in the cell across, Agatha breathed in slowly. “I need you to hum against the bar.” she instructed her ex.

“Whatever you say, my love” Rio smiled as she stepped beside Agatha and pressed her clay-cold lips against the vibranium rod. She looked at her with amusement and then she began to hum to the tune of Danse Macabre. It was a very bizarre way of getting a vibration going against the chastity belt.

It was a strange sight to behold, Agatha furiously riding the prison bars while Rio hummed an ominous tune. The sound of metal frantically scraping against metal was absolutely atrocious, but that wasn’t going to stop either witch. Surprisingly, the plan actually kind of worked. The bar vibrated ever-so-softly but it was enough to shake the belt. It was nowhere near the level of force she craved but it was a start. Unfortunately, as ten minutes of trying would prove, a start is all it would be. No amount of rubbing her caged womanhood against the vibrating surface would get her going enough. But she continued trying (and Rio couldn’t run out of breath since she didn’t breathe).

That was when Wanda passed them by. There weren’t many things in prison (or life for that matter) that still made Wanda smile, but seeing how desperate Agatha was to touch herself was incredibly cathartic. She’d been forced to watch Agatha masturbate and then clean up her cum way too many times to count, and now it seemed like it would never be an issue again. She only wished she’d been the one to lock the witch’s pussy up.

Agatha gave the Scarlet Witch a vengeful glare whose impact didn’t quite land given that she was still actively attempting to get off. Rio on the other hand stopped humming for a moment and gave a smile, waving playfully at her ex’s foe. She knew how mad Agatha would be seeing her treat Wanda with any level of friendliness.

To say Wanda’s week had been a bad one would have been an atrocious understatement. The moment of peace she’d found when she played that game with Nat had cost her dearly as Jean was in a foul mood that made her usual unpleasantness seem idyllic. This wrath, an inferno of jealousy, was all consuming and, worst of all, paranoia served to fuel the flames. Not counting shifts in the kitchen, her ‘girlfriend’ hadn’t given her any opportunities to be alone. Not since the first time she’d been sold for cigarettes had Wanda felt so much like Jean’s property.

Functioning off a seven day collective total of nine hours of sleep, sore from being roughly fucked with a strap-on with no care for her own lack of a sexual mood, and nursing a mind-splitting migraine that came from frequently having her thoughts ripped through by The Phoenix, Wanda felt like she was in a haze. Every weak step seemed to pull from energy she simply didn’t have. She was a mess and she didn’t know how to begin the process of fixing that or, even if she did, how she would have the strength to. Maybe she didn’t deserve to feel better. An overwhelming sense of guilt ate away at her, a remembrance of what she’d done in her grief-maddened state.

Today had started with her waking up on the floor (The Phoenix had said she didn’t deserve to sleep on a bed) a little before morning. Not having had any form of relief since she was spectrally assaulted in Spellbound, she wanted to reach for the special box of toys under the bunk and find relief in the vibrator which strangely reminded her of her late-husband…but couldn’t. “If you need to get off, do it in the showers” is what Jean had told her days ago but come showertime and The Phoenix kept Wanda busy washing her until there was no time left. What Wanda ultimately ended up doing as she lay waiting for the day to start was reminiscing about her short perfect life in Westview.

Westview had been on her mind since then. She could remember every intimate detail of her home through the fictional decades. It was her happy place…even though it didn’t really make her all that happy. Sometimes when things were overwhelming she still sought solace in imagining what her family would be like right now. That’s what she was doing as she currently mopped Cellblock C.

“Those floors better be spotless, bitch, or you’ll be using your tongue.” a passing guard taunted the witch with an obnoxious smirk, interrupting a rather pleasant fantasy of what Wanda would make for Tommy and Billy’s breakfast. It was a ridiculous statement since Wanda was a very dedicated worker, but everyone seemed to take pleasure in demeaning her. Everyone that is except Natasha. Just thinking of her made Wanda feel a little less alone.

She stepped away from her cleaning cart for just a minute to deal with something, but when she got back her mop was gone. Furiously walking along, using her magic to drag her cart along behind her, she found the mop at the door of the rec room. It was broken, tip snapped off.

“Which of you thought this was funny?” Wanda snapped immediately, bursting into the room ahead and disrupting the lounging prisoners. Her eyes glew a bright crimson, swirling in shades of chaos. Her week had been shit enough without the tampering of some unfunny asshole who thought they could just steal what little she had. She worked tirelessly to make sure The Raft was as nice as a penitentiary could possibly be, and this was the thanks she got?

Receiving no response she cursed in Sokovian. “I will shove the rest of this up your ass when I find out who did it.”

That threat seemed to get someone’s attention. Sitting up, Illyana Rasputin smiled. “I think I saw her do it.” she pointed at Rogue, busy minding her own business with Kitty in the corner. Wanda now had the culprit…or so she thought.

—————————————————————

Shuri returned to the cellblock exhausted after another day in the mines. It was gruelling work for a princess, but she had gotten better at it. It now only took nearly passing out and the occasional break (provided she should eat Officer Weaver out) to make it through the job. She couldn’t help but think it a bit sad that going back to her prison cell was somehow some big relief. The only saving grace of going back was returning to the comforting embrace of her prison mommy who patiently awaited her return.

Tiredly stumbling in, Shuri couldn’t take her eyes off Riri. Her girlfriend/prison mommy looked up, setting a book she’d been reading aside. “Hey babe. How was work?” Riri asked.

"Tiring as always, but at least it ended sooner than usual. Not sure why." Shuri replied as she snuggled up next to Riri on the bunk, sighing contentedly at her touch. If you’re wondering why her shift ended early, Domino happened to find enough vibranium to make up for a day’s work.

“Well I’m happy you’re back early. It can get lonely in this cell by myself.” Riri smiled as Shuri rested her head on her shoulder. “Been a little bored…”

Shuri instantly recognised that tone and chuckled. "I mentioned the part where I'm tired, right?” The princess asked, unzipping her jumpsuit anyway.

Riri happily turned to her and pushed her down against the mattress. “Oh c’mon you don’t even have enough energy for me?”

"Always..." Shuri breathily said, opening her jumpsuit all the way. Without any ability to control herself, Riri hastily undressed as well and then got to work kissing her girlfriend’s firm tits. But before things could go any further, there was a knock at the bars. Standing patiently was Ororo Munroe, aka Storm. Queen of Wakanda and Shuri’s sister-in-law. Most assumed there must have been some resentment between them since it was Storm who now led The Panthers, but, in all honesty, Shuri had never been more relieved. She never wanted to be a ruler and thankfully Storm was more than capable. Shuri was functionally the leader of the Panthers, and the one the Dora Milaje obeyed without question, but Storm was the more experienced leader, and Shuri knew that. So while Shuri officially led the gang, she usually let Storm do the actual prison politicking.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time” Storm said ominously. Today was an important day.

—————————————————————

“I’m not saying you need to be friendly when doing this, but people are a lot more willing to buy from you if you don’t always seem like you’re about to kill them” Trish suggested to Jessica as they left Nico Minoru and Karolina Dean’s cell, having sold the couple LSD. Jessica had no idea that it was in fact their fault she’d been stripped naked and kicked in the pussy so many times that she still was a bit sore.

Jessica, as always, looked disinterested in having a conversation. “Isn’t my job just standing here and making sure they pay you?”

“Yeah for now. But I’m saying this for when you start doing this yourself.” Trish replied, feeling like a big sister in this one moment. A big sister who was teaching her younger adopted sibling how to sell drugs but a big sister nonetheless.

“Good thing I don’t plan on ever doing that.” Jessica truly thought she meant it, but did wonder if she’d ever be so desperate as to break down if it meant being paid in alcohol. Right now she could at least tell herself she never actually sold anything.

Trish feigned offence. “What, are you too good for it? Better leave it to the remorseless criminals, right?”

Jessica rested her face in the palm of her hand, both out of exasperation and because she had a hangover. “I just didn’t really see my life going in the direction of being tutored on how to be a drug dealer.”

“Y’know I would have said the exact same thing before you sent me here but now look at me.” Trish really never missed a chance to bring it up.

Wanting to move on, Jessica asked: “Who's next on the list?”

Trish paused, trying to remember. “Uhhh Dazzler again.”

“Didn’t we just fucking sell to her yesterday?” Jessica asked in surprise.

Trish didn’t think much of it. Anything besides selling the product really wasn't her problem. The more they bought the better. “I guess she’s buying in bulk. It’s not like she doesn't have the cigarettes for it.”

“Don’t you feel anything about the fact it would be our fault if she OD’s?” Jessica’s annoyed tone briefly slipped into rare concern.

“Not really” Trish shrugged. “You try being cellmates with Titania and I guarantee you’d want to OD.”

“That’s not funny” Jessica said flatly.

“It was kind of funny,” Trish defended. “Look, she’ll be fine. There is only like a 25% chance she dies a slow death choking on her own vomit”

They passed the cell of Typhoid Mary who thankfully was back to being just timid, shy Mary. Well not that shy. It was 4:00 and she was in her cell, back against the wall with her hand down her jumpsuit gasping for air as she pleasured herself. Jessica did her best not to look for her own sake but it was Mary who approached the bars, not bothering to zip her jumpsuit back up.

“Vanessa told me what I did and I just wanted to say sorry that the other me tried to kill you. She gets…excited. “ Jessica tried to ignore her, but Mary followed as far as the bars would let her. “D-Do you accept my apology?”

“Sure.” Jessica wasn’t convincing in the slightest but Mary backed off, seemingly relieved, and went back to what she’d been doing.

“Look at you making friends!” Trish teased.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “I liked it better when we weren’t talking.”

From ahead came Maya Lopez, pushing someone out of her way as she did. Something about her demeanour conveyed just how upset she was at the fact that she was mop-tip up Cassie Lang’s hole when she was asked to fetch someone.

she signed, pointing at Jessica.

The response was Jessica staring blankly, not understanding what Maya said. “I’m sorry but I don’t know ASL.”

Maya, in no mood to try and mime what she was saying, moved to simply grab Jessica’s shoulder and drag her, but, as soon as she touched her, Jessica threw an instinctual punch that landed across the woman’s face.

Maya responded in turn by shoving Jessica against the wall and returning the blow, followed by kneeing her precisely where Jessica had spent the lockdown being repeatedly kicked. She really didn’t need to respond with violence, but it had been a pretty boring day so far and beating Jessica up was pretty cathartic. Careful to not hit her anywhere Vanessa would be annoyed about, Maya had her fun and then gripped Jess by the hair and dragged her forwards.

Trish watched the whole thing unfold, only concerned when Jessica was dragged off. “Ok well I guess I’ll just do the deal myself then.” she sighed.

—————————————————————

Today was the day, Jane Foster’s alloted once per month orgasm. Sylvie had told her it was apparently an old Asgardian custom to let sexual slaves cum only once a month as a means to say thank you for their indenturehood. Jane had since begun to have doubts about the existence of the tradition when Valkyrie didn’t seem to know what she was talking about.

Waiting with anticipation, Jane was already down to her underwear laying on the bottom bunk as Sylvie straddled her stomach. She was straight (100% straight) so being anywhere near intimate with other women was not her thing at all…but she really wanted to cum. Apparently getting groped by predatory lesbians was just something one adapted to like a change in seasons if horny enough.

Sylvie slid her hand back and gently stroked her fingers against Jane’s cotton-concealed pussy, not slipping under just yet. Jane couldn’t help but feel the goddess was infuriatingly slow. She hated being teased and that was precisely why Sylvie never got directly to the action. There was always something entertaining to the Goddess of Mischief at seeing sheer desperation flash in Jane’s guilt-ridden eyes as she squirmed and moaned. In these moments it was most clear that the slave was completely at her mercy.

For all that it mattered, Sylvie’s games certainly worked as Jane shuttered at every little touch. Judging by her reaction, you’d think she climaxed when Sylvie finally actually put her hand down her panties.

“Thank you” Jane breathily said, a moment too soon because Sylvie stopped and abruptly said:

“I must be going.”

Jane couldn’t hide just how upset she was by the complete tease. “You’re kidding me, right? This isn’t funny!” Sylvie had a tendency to not understand the timing of her trickery, not that it mattered much when she was queen of The Shieldmaidens, but it was deeply frustrating at moments like this. Unfortunately for Jane, this wasn’t one of Sylvie’s games.

“I just remembered I have a very important meeting I must attend. Believe it or not, there are more important things than you cumming.” Sylvie chided, getting up and fixing her jumpsuit. It was astounding how fast the moment was completely over.

Jane begged to differ and, sexually frustrated enough to say something, chose to express it. “It’s been a week! It really shouldn't take long for me to finish” She realised just how strange it was pleading with her boyfriend’s sister to make her orgasm but so many things were strange about their dynamic.

“A week?” Sylvie smirked.

Jane paused, realising she’d slipped up. “What? I-”

Sylvie quickly washed her hands in the sink. “I think you’re in need of a firm reminder of what happens to slaves who do not obey their mistress when I get back” she casually threatened.

“Wait, you promised me to Amora later. I don’t think there'll be time for both and you really shouldn’t disappoint her.” Jane was deeply uncomfortable around Amora the Enchantress, who had an obsession with Thor that surpassed being creepy (an obsession that carried over to Jane since she was the Mighty Thor), but licking the woman’s pussy fifty nights in a row did start to take away the sting of servitude to a creepy fangirl. It would be more than worth it if it meant getting out of being punished.

Sylvie shrugged. “Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of time to eat out your stalker after I tenderise your arse”

Jane found it impossible to keep her thoughts to herself right now. “Sylvie, you’re going to come back here right now and bring me to the loudest orgasm I’ve ever had.” she said in a tone far angrier than any one should have with their prison mommy.

Thankfully Sylvie was a merciful deity and so instead of a severe punishment, she merely decreed: "40, 20 on each cheek. Bare bottom. We can always negotiate to 60 if you want.”

That was in fact enough to make Jane not say another word.

—————————————————————

The lights of the infirmary seemed blinding to the exhausted Carol, so much so that she currently had her one good eye shut in an attempt to ease her piercing headache. Every day since the injury had been the same mind-numbing nothing broken up with the occasional moments of bliss when Valkyrie came to visit. That was the only thing she looked forward to anymore. What she didn’t look forward to were the expectations of her gang for her to know what course of action they all needed to take. In truth, she didn’t know. Even with Sylvie’s pledge, their numbers were less than half that of The Sisterhood. She felt like she’d had better odds when she took on the Brood by herself than she had in this coming conflict.

Medusa had come to Carol with the latest updates on what was happening within the Galaxy Gals. So far the mutants had made no direct move against them, but everyone was on edge. It was only a matter of time before Jean did something.

“What about the Widows? Have they agreed to help?” Carol weakly asked, worn down by the pain-killers in her system.

Medusa nodded. “Natasha promises her unwavering loyalty to your cause” In truth, Medusa hadn’t spoken a word to Natasha. The Widows were thus far entirely removed from the situation. No one except The Shieldmaidens had stepped forward as allies against the largest gang in The Raft and Medusa doubted anyone would. Fighting Jean seemed a fruitless endeavour. “We’re all just waiting for you to recover. There were some who questioned your ability to lead, but I reminded them of all you’ve done for us. The day that you are healed we will gladly back you against Jean.” Medusa reassured.

“Thank you.” Carol said earnestly, slipping into a state of sleep afterwards without even realising it.

Medusa stood and left the infirmary, entering back into the hall where she was met by a concerned Krylorian. “How is she?” the woman asked, eyes wide in innocence.

Medusa didn’t reciprocate the level of concern. “She’s a mess. I don’t think she’ll ever truly recover from what happened. The Captain has completely lost her willpower.”

“What will we do?” the Krylorian pressed.

Medusa walked down the hall, bothered by the woman following her with questions. With all the earnestness she could muster, she said: “We’ll have to find the next most suitable person to lead. And let’s face it, Carol was never leader material. She’s brash, arrogant, and impulsive. What this gang needs is someone who can carry themself with a policy of diplomacy.” It just so happened that person was herself.

During the time Carol had been healing, Medusa had been the one to step forward and rule on her behalf. She knew for a fact that Carol was unfit and there needed to be a new leader. For one reason or another, already a good percentage of the Galaxy Gals had outright accepted Medusa’s leadership. It helped that she promised to stop the war before it even began. They knew that with Carol, they’d be forced to fight until the bitter end under the lead of the so-called “most powerful woman in the galaxy” who was bested by a simple Terran.

—————————————————————

“Isn’t that the princess of Wakanda?” Kate Bishop excitedly exclaimed far too loudly, forgetting to not be so obvious as she stared at a busy Shuri and Storm making their way across the yard, deep in some conversation. Yelena estimated that this was the twelfth time Kate had gotten excited about seeing a famous person in just the last few hours, although she had really lost count. Personally, the assassin didn’t much understand the excitement in spotting superhero celebrities (probably because to her no hero was greater than her sister – but she’d absolutely never let Nat know that)

“Yes.” Yelena nodded casually before pointing to a different table and saying: “and that is Black Cat selling Michelle Jones for cigarettes.” That was far more her speed in things to enjoy watching. Just like Yelena had said, Black Cat was currently forcing Michelle to strip out of her jumpsuit and put on an outfit she’d made specially for her to boost sales. Besides Michelle stood Mary Jane Watson, Gwen Stacy, and Liz Allan. One may think they’d bond in their shared turmoil of Felicia’s inflicted torment, but they hated each other with every fibre of their beings. Deep-rooted jealousy festered when each had been just another of Peter Parker's other affairs.

Kate didn’t share Yelena's enthusiasm at the scene. Wide-eyed and horrified, the archer turned to her friend. She still felt traumatised by seeing how Felicia treated them during the sleepover. “That’s awful!” She told Yelena off like she was a child.

Yelena nodded in agreement. “Awful-ly fun to watch.”

Kate didn’t understand Yelena’s rather calm reaction. Seeing Michelle put on the degrading outfit, Kate resolved to do something about the situation. “...I think we could take her.” the archer said confidently.

Now it was Yelena’s turn to be surprised. “You want me to pay cigarettes for her? That was fast, Kate Bishop.” she assumed the archer meant something entirely different.

“Pay cigarettes- what? No! I meant the weird cat lady.” Kate sputtered.

Yelena looked at Kate like her friend was failing to grasp the nature of the auction. Unhelpfully, she tried to explain: “You can’t buy her. She’s selling out the women in the orange bikinis.”

As interested parties gawked at Michelle’s bare brown skin, she wasn’t sure whether or not she was humiliated or a bit flattered that she almost always made way more than the other three.

Kate furrowed her brow, wondering if there was a failure to communicate due to a possible slight language barrier Yelena may have. “I don’t want to buy her. She’s a person. That’s…illegal.” She only then realised it didn’t matter here.

“I’m not cornering her in the showers. Fighting on wet tiles is much harder than it looks.” Yelena spoke from a place of personal experience, obviously not grasping the point still.

“Oh my god I’m trying to say I want us to beat up Black Cat and rescue the women who are being sold!” Kate yelled loud enough for absolutely everyone to hear. Like a pause-button had been hit, the yard went silent and stared at her. From her place atop the table, Felicia’s emerald eyes bore down upon the archer.

—————————————————————

Maya released Jessica’s hair and shoved her inside the cell, where the detective barely managed to find her footing before she collapsed. “What the fuck? If you want to talk you don’t need to send someone to jump me.”

Vanessa stood, not facing Jessica but towards a painting which rested upon the wall. She seemed entranced in it, lost completely in the ebb and flow of delicate brushstrokes that danced and swirled in a tempest of whites. “It’s striking, isn’t it?” she asked, not turning to face her guest.

“Yeah that looks great. Now what do you want?” Jessica moodily asked.

“I want to speak with you, Jessica. My apologies for Maya’s approach to fetching you…she can be aggressive. It’s certainly useful, but when it’s her approach to everything she’s no more than an enforcer.” There was an unexpected earnestness in Vanessa’s tone, something which caught Jessica off guard. It was something Jessica couldn’t trust. “Now what do you see in this piece?”

Jessica crossed her arms in irritation. “I don’t fucking know. It looks like some white paint chaotically thrown on a pallet.” She simply did not understand abstract art.

Vanessa laughed softly at the predictably rough answer. “I once curated a painting similar to this and people always asked me how we could charge so much for what amounts to gradations of white. I would tell them it's not about the artist's name or the skill required, not even about the art itself. All that matters is 'How does it make you feel?’ Art has a way of capturing chaos and serenity all at once.”

“If chaos and serenity are part of the deal, then I guess my life’s a masterpiece.” Jessica scoffed.

For the first time in this conversation, Vanessa parted her glance for a moment to see Jessica’s brusque demeanour. “You seem like a woman who appreciates complexity more than you realise.”

“Sure. I guess when you’ve seen enough of the worst in people you realise things aren’t very black and white.” As Jessica peered deeper into the painting she realised it wasn’t white at all, but a sea of greys which thrashed like an ocean caught by a wrathful tempest – or a rabbit in a snowstorm. Maybe she did get it.

Vanessa nodded in thought. “I look at it when I need to better understand reality. It grounds me in something deeper than the mere catharsis most indulge in. Too many forget, or never see, that this prison is a woman so lost by cruelty, she has forgotten herself and found only appetites. Even I can become lost in its strange allure, and that is why I paint. For me, it was love that first granted me a different world, a different perspective and each piece reminds me of that.”

Jessica looked at her quizzically, growing curiouser about the woman in front of her. She’d known of Vanessa Fisk by reputation, everyone in NYC did, and had been begrudgingly doing jobs for her since arriving in prison, but this was a previously unseen side of the mob wife. “Sounds deep. You ever think of writing a book? I’d buy it – something different to read in between punching people who don’t know how to pay for shit and pounding cheap booze.”

Vanessa smiled in appreciation. “Perhaps one day. But for now, I find art to be my outlet. It’s less permanent than the written word, but just as expressive. I’m curious. Jessica, are you an artist?”

Jessica shrugged. “I’m pretty great at the art of drinking until I pass out if that counts”

“As someone who pays you in your vices, I think I at least deserve an honest answer.” Vanessa pressed.

Jessica shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if her thick layer of rough-around-the-edges armour had been pierced. “I used to draw. Actually thought about being a tattoo artist…but it never went anywhere.” It had been something she did when she was younger, and a fact she shared with few people. After her parents died it had been something just for her. The last person who’d asked her about it was Kilgrave and she wasn’t given a choice in how she answered, only forced to tell him each and every little intimate detail about herself. To this day the act of drawing made her feel sick.

Staring into the painting, Jessica felt her mind begin to settle slowly. A fuming panic and rage that she always carried seemed to quiet for the briefest of moments. Lost in the grey she almost completely forgot why she was here at all. It was only as her mind drifted back that she asked: “You didn’t really bring me here to talk about paint, did you?”

Vanessa sighed, at last taking a step back - bidding farewell to this session of introspection. “No. But it is a pause before what we must do next.”

“And what’s that?”Jessica asked, eyebrow raised.

Vanessa hesitated. “There is a war brewing, one that demands my action. Today we will convene with some of the other gangs to decide what that course of action shall be.”

Jessica paused in perplexity. “Ok…and why do you want me there? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really the seasoned Godfather type.”

“I think everyone in this gang must see the weight of my decisions. Not everyone will understand it completely – women like Maya never will – but I think you understand people well enough to be someone who can. You’ll accompany me to this meeting and observe…or would you prefer to return to ‘punching people who don’t know how to pay for shit’ as you so elegantly put it?”

“I’ll come with you.” Jessica was interested in where this was going.

“Excellent. Now fix your hair. I can’t have you looking like you rolled out of bed after drinking two bottles of whiskey last night.”

It was just as they were about to leave that a voice chimed: “Can you let me go now?” Only then did Jessica notice Madame Masque had been up there, naked and handcuffed to the frame.

—————————————————————

“Want one?” Mystique offered a cigarette over to the woman, The Phoenix, beside her in the yard. The mutant assassin stood completely proud of her blue body, accustomed to being completely naked most of the time. She wouldn’t demean herself by wearing the ‘slave rags’ given to her, even if that meant never wearing so much as underwear again. It helped that she was one of very few women in The Raft who could go without any clothing without the risk of being assaulted.

“A cigarette? You think I’d defile this body with such a crude thing?” The Phoenix questioned the offer in a distant tone that didn’t seem to come from Jean’s mouth. Just as Mystique refused to sully herself with prison-mandated uniforms, The Phoenix refused to harm her host’s body with anything mortal-made. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes - they were all beneath a celestial being like herself.

Mystique took a drag and rested her head against the wall in contemplation. “We should have killed Carol in the mines when we had a chance.”

“I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to manage killing her now.” The Phoenix replied, decrying a new hit.

“Killing her won’t be necessary. In fact I think I may have a resolution that doesn’t involve bloodshed” Medusa said…just before Mystique kicked her and pinned her to the wall by keeping her foot at the Inhuman’s throat. Although Medusa could have fought back, she relented for now.

“And why is that?” Mystique asked, pressing harder into Medusa’s throat. She would have killed her without hesitation if given the order…or just for fun if they didn’t have a better use for the Inhuman. It had been awhile since she last killed someone.

But it didn’t take any enhanced interrogation tactics to get Medusa’s intent. A perk of telepathy was that The Phoenix simply extracted the information that she needed without the annoyingly slow process of talking. It was beneath a goddess like herself to waste time with mortals. “She wants to take over the Galaxy Gals” she said calmly, keeping her tone flat to make sure their new captive couldn’t read into it.

Medusa gasped for air. “I don’t want to be their leader…but it is a burden I am willing to carry if it means ending the reign of someone who is blatantly so incapable of leading.”

The Phoenix smirked. “No, you’re far too treacherous for such a noble intention. I know what moves you, Medusa, and the lies you tell yourself won’t get you far. It’s power you crave, not the betterment of your gang. Enrapture yourself in the truth of your intent and you’ll find it far simpler to obtain what you seek.”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I’m offering you Carol to do whatever your heart desires with.” Medusa stammered. The number of ways out of this without harm to herself were starting to dwindle.

Dragging a mental talon through Medusa’s mind, the Phoenix clearly took offence “You think I can’t take her subservience by force?” she challenged, giving Mystique the go-ahead to choke her a little harder. “I don’t need your permission.”

Medusa could barely breath now, getting dizzier as her air-flow was cut off. “For what? Do you think it would show how powerful you are? We all know.”

“Flattery, how adorable. That won't work on me. Offer me something I can’t obtain or I’ll let Mystique choke you to death here and now.”

Medusa shut her eyes and tried to calm herself. Knowing what she must do she said: “I, on behalf of the Galaxy Gals, will swear allegiance to you.”

Chapter Text

The lights flickered in the hallways as Kate Bishop angrily marched down them. At any moment a lesbian could have jumped out of any dark corner but Kate just didn’t care. She knew wanding off on her own wasn’t her best idea here, but she couldn’t stand to be in the same place as Yelena at the moment. The spy had talked Felicia down but it didn’t matter. Kate was disturbed by her friend’s enjoyment of how others were mistreated. With so many superheroes wrongly imprisoned, the archer couldn’t comprehend how things like what she saw could happen or, worse, how Yelena could possibly find entertainment in it. It sickened her to her core to see someone who she considered her only friend in The Raft be so supportive of a system so vile. She had not had time to adjust yet, and doubted she ever would.

Kate barely registered where she was walking as she mentally ranted to no end, looking simply to walk so that she may think rather than journeying to any one location. It really was a miracle no one took advantage of her. Or perhaps it wasn’t a miracle at all that kept the usual horny inmates at bay, but a deep fear of angering Yelena.

Navigating down a hall that led between Cellblock C and the gym, a growing anxiety of being on her own finally began to creep in. She attempted to ease herself by noticing the security cameras, but then she remembered that the guards here didn’t exactly do much to prevent what happened and so she was kind of back to square one on not being nervous.

Luckily for the frustrated archer, she wouldn't find an angry lesbian ready to ravage her body, but a sniffling girl, sitting against the wall with her arms wrapped around her legs. She gasped as she looked up at her guest with tear stained eyes, then sighed with relief as she realised who it was. She rushed to wipe away her tears though. "Oh, hi. Kate Bishop... Hi..."

“Cassie?!” The Raft was a very big prison and even a week in it was easy enough to not meet everyone. Case in point, this very moment where Kate recognized the crying woman in front of her. They weren’t incredibly close friends, but they had met before and so seeing Cassie Lang behind bars was incredibly jarring. Wanting to not sound so shocked, she tried to play it cool by asking: “They got you too, huh?”

Kate didn’t yet know that Cassie had actually been incarcerated longer than her. She assumed the tears were because she was newly arrived.

Cassie frowned sadly as she realised yet another hero had been arrested, then nodded. "Awhile ago. I don't know how long. Time doesn't feel real anymore, and... Maya, she...she can be really nice, and sometimes I feel like we're actually friends and it's so nice, but then..." Her lip quivered as she looked away, debating whether or not she should continue. "...and then she gets so angry. She stole a mop from Wanda and shoved part of the handle in my vagina. It's still in there..."

Kate looked horrified, dropping all attempts at being cool and sitting by Cassie in sudden concern. She had no idea who Maya was, but she seemed pretty par for the course for the women in The Raft. This was exactly the awful mistreatment she was wholeheartedly against…and which Yelena would probably find funny.

“She shoved a…what? Are you ok?” She worriedly asked, briefly looking downwards at Cassie’s crotch for sickened verification of the mop handle before comprehending that it was probably (definitely) weird and darting her eyes back up.

Cassie looked at Kate with confusion. She may enjoy the little moments with Maya, but it had been so long since anybody asked her that question, or even showed the slightest bit of concern for her. She was more weirded out than flattered. "Y-yeah... I'm fine. It just... really hurts. I'm probably gonna be sore for a couple weeks, but I'm used to it..." She shrugged, no longer really comprehending how bizarre this whole situation was.

“Y-You’re fine? You’re not fine. Nothing about someone shoving a mop handle up your…vagina…is fine! I’m so sorry she did that to you.” Kate definitely was a bit overbearing in her concern, but she felt with all her heart that no one should have to experience that. Cassie’s shrug came as an even bigger surprise than the information on what had happened. Kate didn’t know what it's like to endure that sort of thing repeatedly until it just becomes normal. “Can you take it out? How deep in is it? I can get you to the infirmary.”

Something seemed to shift inside Cassie, the immense amount of concern starting to break through. "I... I don't think that's a good idea. Maya will take it out when she's ready... and then hopefully we'll still have game night.." She really relied on those game nights. One of the only things that made prison life feel normal. "But, um... thank you... thank you..."

“But it can be taken out now…and then you can come to my cell to play games.” Kate didn’t have any games to play but she felt that she could definitely come up with something if it meant helping the obvious abuse victim in front of her. “I’m sure my games are way better than hers.” She added in an attempt to sell the idea.

Cassie still looked nervous, but was clearly considering it. The idea of playing games with someone legitimately sweet, and not just temporarily kind, was enticing. "Really? You would... play games with me?" She then looked down at the ground. "But what if Maya gets upset? She always threatens to sell me for cigarettes if I disobey..."

Kate was just about to enthusiastically say that she 100% wanted to hang out with Cassie but was brought to a complete stop when her new friend shared the commonly-given threat. The archer was at a loss for words on how to respond. Ultimately what she said was bold…and way too loud: “We should teach her a lesson then! We’re superheroes. Let’s show her what happens to bad guys.” Kate didn’t realise that the Maya she was talking about beating up was the same Maya who beat her up two Christmases ago.

Cassie's jaw dropped in horror, heart racing as she began to breathe frantically. "N-no! I... I dont think that's a good idea. If it goes wrong, that could be seriously bad for me, and... and she's not a bad person. She just... she's... she's been friendly to me. And she keeps me safe from worse people. I don't wanna betray her like that." Of course, thanks to Maya's actions, her vagina was throbbing as she said this, pain radiating throughout her body.

“Hurting you and saying she’ll sell you sounds like bad person behaviour to me. What even is worse than what she does? I feel like she’s just saying that to make you feel like she’s better than she is.” Kate would have reassured that Yelena would help if they fought Maya, but, as things currently stood, she wasn’t so confident that Yelena would.

Cassie couldn't deny that Kate had a point, though she was wrong about one very big thing. "Oh, there are much worse things that can happen to me here... much worse..." She then realized she definitely wanted to change the subject. "What kind of games do you have?"

Kate caught on to the fact that Cassie wanted to talk about something else. Unfortunately that something else involved her scrambling to come up with a game now that she actually needed to make her bluff look legit. Immediately she tried to remember what games were in the rec room but she couldn’t remember a single one. “A game…a game…” She was doing great at lying. “I…um…have…Monopoly! Yeah Monopoly!” She didn’t have Monopoly.

Luckily for Kate, Cassie could be a little oblivious, smiling wide despite the obvious lie. "Oh, cool. I love Monopoly. I used to play it all the time with my family..." She missed her family. This would be a comforting night... if Kate actually had the game.

Cassie’s nostalgic recollection made Kate feel really bad that she didn’t actually have the game. It went from a helpful lie to possibly being a major disappointment to someone whose life had been really rough.
“...But just in case it’s not there we can always come up with something else that’s fun”

Cassie's smile faltered a bit, that slightly prissy attitude she'd entered prison with returning slightly. "I mean, I guess..." But she still gave her a tight hug. "Thank you..."

—————————————————————

Just as Wanda was about to force Rogue on to her knees and make her plead forgiveness for allegedly breaking the mop, the suppression collar around her neck contracted tighter and gave the witch an incredibly painful shock that made her think twice about the spell she was about to cast. She’d barely had time to recover from the pain before she noticed a guard approaching.

“Unless you’re hoping to get sent back to solitary, you better move your ass.” they accosted. Wanda didn’t feel that it was fair that she was the one being told to leave…but she didn’t have the fight in her to try and explain the situation. She’d practically just come back from the hole for trying to stop Gwendolyn Poole forcing herself on her and she feared going back. She’d never truly grown accustomed to being punished, but there was something especially terrifying to her about being stripped naked and left to languish in a claustrophobic cell for days at a time. In the hole she was left to the whims of her demons without any distraction, stranded in her own despair.

“I’m sorry. It was an overreaction.” was all the witch said, the slightest hint of resentment in her tone but compliant nonetheless. Taking her cart and broken tool she left the rec room and went to clean the gym. The place was as crowded as ever, but it was Natasha Romanoff sparring with Yelena that caught Wanda’s attention.

The way the Black Widow moved was entrancing to the witch, as elegant as it was aggressive. Even in a fight she looked beautiful. Every punch, kick, and swing were precise, almost dance-like in how deliberate they were. They’d fought together before as Avengers, but there really wasn’t much of a chance in the heat of battle for Wanda to actually watch Natasha. Wanda didn’t know Natasha’s fighting style was based on her early ballet training in the Red Room, but she appreciated the fluidity and beauty of it.

She forgot all about how mad she’d been at Rogue, or how the guards treated her like she was a walking security risk (which she did understand was reasonable given the offences that landed her in prison). The way Jean had been treating her fell out of mind, tucked away to some desolate corner of her mind as Natasha took the forefront.

It took longer than it should have for Wanda to remember why she’d come into the room in the first place. She startled as her elbow slipped from the cart she leaned on as she had been staring distractedly. But even after she pulled a broom from it and began to sweep the dirty floors she repeatedly caught herself looking back up at the redhaired spy.

Wanda jumped as she felt someone softly trace their fingers through her brown and red hair. “Enjoying the sight?” Emma Frost asked, seeing the direction Wanda had been looking.

“No. I’m just tired.” Wanda poorly lied.

“Well I hope you’re not too tired…” Leaning in close Emma smiled and whispered: “...I want you to come to my cell.”

Wanda had been sold out enough times to understand where this was going, but Jean had been extra possessive lately and she didn’t want to somehow make her madder by doing the wrong thing. “I think Jean wanted me to go back to our cell right after work…”

“May I remind you, Wanda, that I am Jean’s friend and I may do as I wish in The Sisterhood. She is busy at the moment…so I’m your mistress until she returns.” Emma smirked. On the outside she held numerous famous people in her sway thanks to the ease in which blackmail material could be found when one was a telepath. But it was never just about ensuring the secrets of the Hellfire Club, no it ran far deeper than that. There was something that thrilled the wicked woman about having control over people, especially people of influence. She liked to see them dance in an attempt to appease her. Politicians, actors, superheroes, they were all her slaves in her mind. But never had she had control over an Avenger. Until now that was. “In essence, I can do whatever I want to you. And right now I want to see you undress.”

Wanda went wide-eyed, feeling uncomfortable but knowing she wasn’t allowed to do anything about it. “H-Here?” she stammered.

“Do I seem like I lack the necessary confidence required to abstain from stuttering? I wouldn't have said that I want you to undress if I didn’t mean for you to do it here and now.” Emma rolled her eyes.

Without the willpower to argue, Wanda shyly reached for the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulled it down as far as it would go until her clothes fell to the floor. Covering her breasts, she looked down in shame at her own submission. “M-My underwear too?”

Emma Frost’s cold ice-blue gaze was answer enough and so Wanda dropped her panties too. Standing naked, she felt Emma throw her around her and then they began to walk. The witch could feel eyes upon her body from all directions as they navigated to Cellblock B. It was almost a relief to enter Emma’s cell. Almost. Because as soon as they were inside Emma commanded Wanda to lay down on the bottom bunk. She did as told but was surprised when Emma pulled out lengths of makeshift rope made of sheets and fastened the witch to the bed.

Wanda knew there wasn’t any point in pleading, nor was there any use in calling out to the guards for help. Emma wasn’t trying to kill her so no one would give a damn, and even if she was being killed Wanda imagined no one liked her enough to help. In her mind she was just as much monster as the White Queen, if not more so. Wanda couldn’t help but think that maybe this was her karma for her actions in Westview. Maybe this powerlessness was what it felt like for those poor townspeople to be under her hex.

“Cry all you want. It won’t make this go any faster. I like to take my time with such pretty things as you.” Emma teased, softly running her index finger just beneath Wanda’s eye where tears were now falling. With a sick smile on her face, Emma raised her now wet finger to her lips and gave the tears a taste. There always was something so special to her about the taste of the broken.

Emma stripped naked and then straddled her stomach and, despite her elegant composure, she aggressively forced two fingers up the witch’s womanhood without any restraint while she placed her other hand on her throat, not choking her yet but letting it be known that she would if she so chose. Then she began to pump her fingers in Wanda, slow for the first second and then rougher.

“Someone’s pussy is wet…” Emma said as if it meant her victim could possibly be enjoying this.

Wanda’s eyes glassed over as she struggled to process what was happening, growing number and number the more Emma defiled her. Even her tears stopped flowing. For a moment she felt as if she wasn’t in her body at all…but then she cruelly was unmercifully ripped back into awareness as Emma came face to face with her. “Cry more for me.”

When Wanda didn’t give her the desired response, Emma gently laid a hand on the witch’s cheek in a tender embrace…and then slapped her. The way in which the White Queen calmly commanded her was far more horrifying than any raised tone could be. Wanda was powerless, not just physically against Emma but also emotionally. This was all part of the game for her torturer. Left with nothing else to do, Wanda cried. Tears seemed to pour until everything she saw was a complete blur.

Emma twisted two more fingers up Wanda, curious to see how far she could go before the legendary Scarlet Witch screamed. In the end, she’d managed to get all five fingers up her – painfully stretching at the witch’s walls. She kept them there until she was bored, at which point she pulled them all out at once and moved to sit over Wanda’s face, her legs either side of the witch’s head. Then she squatted down. Wanda tried to pull her head away but she was grabbed by her long hair and her face was pushed into Emma’s unshaven womanhood.

Wanda had been a bitch long enough to know what to do without fighting; eating out Emma. All the while the White Queen moaned and grinded her sex against Wanda’s face while kneading Wanda’s breasts, roughly pinching at her nipples. She slapped them and jiggled them and then she threw her arm back and fingered the witch once more.

Mouth buried beneath a blonde pussy unshaven for the last four years, Wanda lapped and sobbed but nothing seemed to indicate this would ever end. There was a twisted sort of involuntary pleasure to Emma’s fingers going in and out her pussy, but that was overwhelmed by the pain of the dominatrix pinching her hardened right nipple and giving it a relentless twist. No experience Wanda had been through when being sold out was ever like this. Emma didn’t just get off on a pretty face between her thighs, but on the torment she could inflict. Emma truly put the sadism in BDSM.

With a ladylike gasp, Emma came on Wanda’s face with a spray, unashamed of the enjoyment she took in using such a powerful being as her plaything. “Such an obedient pretty little pet. I can see why Jean keeps you.”

Emma got off Wanda’s face with a self-satisfied smile and for a minute Wanda thought it meant this was over…but then Emma pulled out a stolen guard’s belt from under the bed. Wanda didn’t have time to react before she was struck across her bare breasts by the rough leather material.

Wanda screamed in pain, eyes burning scarlet just before her collar shocked her into submission. “P-Please stop!” She begged, her chest now burning. She barely even understood why she was here.

“You may scream if you wish, but you won’t speak unless commanded to. Understood, bitch?” Emma admired the bright red mark slowly showing up along the witch’s perky tits…just before bringing the belt down again. And again. And then a third time for good measure. Wanda cried pretty often, but she very rarely screamed. Emma had now forced her to do it thrice in less than a minute. It was a good start but there was much more to be done.

“W-When Jean…when Jean hears about this…” Wanda panted, attempting to find something that would make her assaulter stop. Before she could finish her sentence though, the makeshift whip slashed across her chest.

“Jean? She won’t care as long as nothing I do creates any permanent damage. Well physically permanent. Mental on the other hand…” There were few weapons beside her mind that Emma required, but she’d always had a fondness for the whip. Nothing else quite embodied the difference in power between dom and sub like it, and few things made her as wet as when she used it to bring someone to her mercy. It was second only to that moment when her victim’s will broke entirely. “I adore how your tits shake when I do this.” she chuckled. With just a few cracks of the belt, Emma had transformed Wanda’s beautiful boobs into two mounds of bruised and stinging flesh.

Wanda was sobbing by now, in the exquisite pain Emma sought, but there was only one issue. They were in prison and she couldn’t have the girl’s screams drawing the attention of a guard. It was such a pity to lose the sound of delightful pain…but alas incarceration life required sacrifices.

The White Queen picked her worn prison-panties off the ground, giving them a playful spin so Wanda could see…and then shoved them into the witch’s mouth as a gag. Wanda choked on the taste but didn’t get to focus on it long when Emma grabbed her by the face, squeezing her cheeks. All she could do was look up at her captor with fear as Emma whispered in her ear: “I can’t believe you were once an Avenger. You’re the Scarlet Witch who held a town hostage? The monster who killed all of those sorcerers? You’re nothing. There have been servant girls who endured my torture longer than you.”

Wanda couldn’t argue with that; she was nothing. Her life, her existence, and every breath she drew she didn’t deserve. She should have died under Wundagore, but Doctor Strange had rescued her only to bring her to a living hell. She resented him, but also after everything she’d done she knew she deserved to be here. To be punished.

Emma Frost wasn’t all that different from Jean Grey in that she knew how to probe a mind for a person’s deepest insecurities and to use it as a weapon. The White Queen could tell from a glance that the witch was a pathetic self-loathing mess. It was disgusting to see someone so powerful and so weak at the same time.

“You’re right, you do deserve punishment” Emma said aloud, stepping back and menacingly brandishing her belt once again. “Now that our warm-up is done, I can show you true punishment…”

Everything that Emma had done to Wanda so far was just the beginning.

—————————————————————

“Huh…I have no idea what happened to it. This is so weird. I guess my cellmate must have put it back in the rec room or something…” Kate lied upon arriving back at her cell with Cassie and putting on a pretty convincing search for the game she didn’t own. She’d really been hoping the game would somehow magically be there - perhaps buried under some of Yelena’s many things. The room was pretty cluttered afterall.

Cassie looked immensely disappointed, believing every word that Kate's cellmate had just put it back. "Oh... well... I guess I should... go back to Maya then..." She was probably less mad now. Maybe okay enough to do a game of their own.

“Wait, don't go! We don’t need Monopoly to have fun. We can do anything else.” This was starting to feel uncomfortably similar to the party Kate threw where the few who showed up started to leave less than ten minutes into the night.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. This girl really wanted to hang out with her... it felt kinda nice. "S-sure... What would we do?" She would then start to blush. "You're not gonna make me eat you out, are you?"

“What? No!” Kate exclaimed in shock. Since landing in the clink she’d had some very mixed feelings about her sexuality, but that was nowhere near being on her mind with Cassie. “How many introductions to people have involved anything like that?” She didn’t know that the answer numbered over thirty.

Cassie lowered her head shyly, not really wanting to say. "Too many..." She quickly shook away those negative feelings, wanting to focus on Kate, her potential new friend. "So what are we gonna do then?"

Kate thought for a moment, glancing around the messy cell for anything that she could use. The only thing that stood out was a black vibrator Yelena had left out and that Kate tried to subtly kick under the bed out of embarrassment; both out of the possibility Cassie saw it and because sharing a cell with Yelena had been a test in her comfort zone to say the least. While a vast improvement from being cellmates with Hela, Yelena wasn’t exactly shy about her body. If Yelena was horny she’d simply explore herself regardless of whether or not Kate was asleep. It made her blush reliving the moment.

Trying not to think of Yelena for a bit, Kate focused back on the task at hand. There was so much stuff and yet so little of it was useful for her predicament. “Well we could play a game that I just invented two seconds ago in my head. It’s really fun.”

If Cassie noticed the vibrator, she didn't say anything. Right now, she was primarily focused on staying on Kate's good side. Just in case. She was sceptical of this made up game, but also flattered that Kate was trying. "Sure. What are the rules?"

“Ok so you have to take this” Kate held up a few elastic hair ties “And you have to shoot it as far as you can without hitting the bars.” The archer put her back against the wall and demonstrated, using her index finger to brace the band before launching it into the middle of the hall.

Cassie laughed, almost giddy at how cool that was. It had been so long since she felt that giddy about something. "Wow! You really are the world's greatest archer!" She grabbed one of the hair ties, aiming it like Kate did... then yelped as she failed miserably, the hair tie snapping back into her eye. "Why do I even try?"

Kate couldn't hold back a laugh that she immediately tried to stifle out of fear of insulting her guest. She realised she would probably need to reign in her skills if this was going to come close to being fair. “It’s okay, you’ll get better. Give it another go!”

Cassie timidly grabbed another hair tie, aiming it once again and closing her eyes tight as she launched it. She then opened her eyes, just in time to see it hit the edge of a cell bar, almost going out. This was enough to get her excited. "I almost did it! I almost got it through!"

“That was so close!” Kate smiled at the sign of life starting to show in Cassie. Taking another band, she found a way to make it fair and still give herself at least some level of challenge. She would miss in incredibly precise ways. In this case: she needed to hit a precise middle section of the same bar that Cassie hit.

Breathing out she fired, sending the tiny object hurtling into exactly where she intended. “How?” She feigned ignorance at her ‘misfire’.

Cassie laughed at Kate's failure, mostly playfully but there was a hint of brattiness to it. "Okay, I take that back. Maybe second greatest archer." She grabbed another hair tie, shooting it at the empty space between the bars and just narrowly missing.

“Second greatest? Wow I know you shrink but you did not need to aim so low!” Kate closed her eyes and made it land precisely on top of Cassie’s.

Cassie was having the best experience of her entire prison life, laughing with the archer and actually feeling like a normal girl again. She even stuck her tongue out at the archer as she missed yet again, something that would have earned her a fist up her bottom with Maya. She felt surprisingly confident as she readied another hair tie, this one finally making it between the bars. She cheered and clapped, turning to Kate and waiting to hear some praise.

It didn’t take any faking for Kate to be impressed, genuinely surprised Cassie had actually finally gotten a successful shot. Clapping, she gave her friend the enthusiastic praise she sought: “That was awesome! I 100% knew you could do it.”

Cassie stared at Kate for a moment, trying to come up with words that could fully articulate how much this meant to her, but nothing could do it justice. So instead, she just quietly smiled and stepped aside waiting to see if Kate could do the same amazing shot. She totally could, but Cassie also secretly hoped she'd somehow miss. That would be the ultimate confidence boost.

Kate was a very competitive person..when the opponent was equal or surpassed her skill - neither of which Cassie did. And so she missed again. The shot, which bounced between two bars still managed to fall just behind Cassie’s band. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Cassie laughed hysterically at that, unable to believe she's truly bested the professional archer at this game. She really was the most adorably oblivious girl in the prison, so much time on the inside doing little to truly toughen her up. "This is so fun!" She then let out a heavy sigh, the reality of her situation coming back into her mind. "I guess there's no way they'd let us become cellmates?"

“Well I used to be in Hela’s cell but was moved really randomly. Apparently I ended up in the wrong cell…” Kate was oblivious to the strings that had been pulled to get her moved. “Maybe something like that happened to you and you’re supposed to be my cellmate or something?”

Cassie felt her spirits lift… "You think so? Who do you have as a cellmate? Would I be able to stay with you? I never really got sent to be with Maya. She just claimed me." ...only to feel a sudden wave of fear and guilt wash over her. "But Maya does also protect me, and... she's gonna be furious if I'm not there when she gets back..."

“Oh. When does she get back? Do you have to go right now?” Kate didn’t hide the fact that she was disappointed she couldn’t keep Cassie with her forever and keep seeing her smile.

Cassie would have loved to stay with Kate, to feel happy and genuinely wanted without fear of ulterior motives... but she'd been in prison long enough to know she had to value her safety above all, and Kate just couldn't guarantee that. Of course, now she was worried about disappointing Maya and her new friend. "I... I don't know. Probably soon. I... What do you think I should do?"

As much as Kate wanted to punch herself for saying it, she knew there was really only one way to keep Cassie safe…and that (somehow) was by sending her back to her abuser. It was a horrible situation all around that made the noble archer sick, but she didn’t want to see Cassie punished in some awful way because of poor advice she’d given her. “You…You should probably go back…but only if you want to. You’re welcome to come by whenever you want though, as long as it’s safe for you.” Her tone matched how she felt; glum.

Cassie's face fell as Kate confirmed what she already knew. The girl nodded solemnly, but would allow herself a small smile at the last part. "Okay... Maybe I could stay a little longer?"

—————————————————————

It was 4:30 PM which meant at the moment the cafeteria was nearly abandoned. Abandoned that is except for a few groups, members of different gangs, gathered together. There were three per group; Sylvie Laufeydottir, Valkyrie, and Sif of the Shieldmaidens; Vanessa Fisk, Jessica Jones, and Maya Lopez for the Queenpins; and then Shuri, Okoye, and Storm on behalf of the Panthers.

Jessica had been watching the whole conversation, silent as she observed how little things were getting anywhere. I could go into the details of their meeting but, let's be honest, no one is reading this story for long boring negotiations that don’t involve people taking their clothes off.

“Although our home has been taken from us and we are left here, Wakanda has traditionally been an isolationist nation and I won’t be the one to change that.” Shuri decreed, opting to keep the Panthers out of the brewing gang war while Storm beside her added: “On a personal note, I’ve been friends with Jean since we were Xavier’s students and, despite her changes, I won’t outright turn against her. She’s like a sister to me”

“Your ‘sister’ cut one of Carol’s eyes out.” Valkyrie remarked spitefully. She’d have liked to take an eye from Jean…if not worse.

Storm nodded in understanding but said: “I won’t defend what she did, but that isn’t something that warrants betraying her.”

Valkyrie crossed her arms, fuming inside. She didn’t understand how it was so hard to have people turn against the obvious madwoman. “And what about what she does next? Do you think she’ll stop at attacking Carol? She controls the largest gang and is completely mental. It’s only a matter of time before she attacks others.”

“That would apply if Jean attacked Carol without reason…which she didn’t. Carol hit her girlfriend and she reacted in defense.” Vanessa Fisk chimed in, tiring of the discussion but bearing enough patience to see it through. “I’d have done the same if anyone touched my property without my permission.”

Sylvie couldn’t really argue with that, in agreement that she’d definitely punish a transgression like that. It didn’t change her stance of allegiance with the Galaxy Gals, but it was a good point. “Perhaps…” She started but stopped when the door to the cafeteria was thrown open and The Phoenix entered, accompanied by Medusa.

“You can call off the meeting because Medusa, the new leader of The Galaxy Gals, has sworn her allegiance to me.” Jean proclaimed, feeling on top of the world right now. And why shouldn’t she have now that a victory had just presented itself to her.

“The new leader?” Valkyrie exclaimed, shooting Medusa a violent look. “You? Really?” she asked incredulously. “In Asgard traitors were once given the Blood Eagle…it’s shame we can’t do the same to you”

“Yes, me” Medusa nodded, striding forward. “I’ve done what Carol couldn’t, brought peace between our two gangs. Would you rather there be a war? Pray tell, what have I done that you find despicable? Should I have allowed her stubbornness to lead to a pointless conflict?”

Valkyrie laughed. “I think we can all see through this blatant grab for power.”

“Call it whatever you want, but the conflict is over” Jean concluded, leaving the room with her head held high and the final word said.

—————————————————————

The Red Room had never allowed Yelena Belova any opinions of her own so when she escaped she swore she’d make 1000 before she died. So far she knew she hated nationalism, imperialistic invasion, and the Eiffel Tower. But she loved vests with lots of pockets, solyanka, knives, and especially Kate Bishop. Which was why she couldn't understand how it was that Kate had stormed off after she’d saved her. Call her blindly romantic, but wasn’t their time as cellmates supposed to be the start of things going past being friends? Yes they’d only known each other for less than two weeks (including the Christmas they met), but Yelena had certainly been with people after knowing them for far less time. It hurt to try and understand what the archer’s issue could be, so the spy resolved to work through her stress with her sister the only way she knew how (not like that you perverts!).

Narrowly dodging a kick from Natasha that surely should have firmly hit her in the face, she watched as her sister’s leg swung back to a fighting stance and – given less than a millisecond to make her move – threw her knee up against Nat’s chin, managing to knock the former-Avenger off her feet and onto the floor of the gym. “Ha! I win again” Yelena removed her mouthguard and taunted, never knowing the meaning of modesty.

Natasha groaned, feeling both proud of Yelena and a little embarrassed she’d lost twice in a row to her little sister. Why was she doing this instead of getting eaten out by Pepper or Quake? “Teach me how you did that.” She said, getting up and removing the mouthguard as well.

“No.” Yelena chuckled, relaxing against the wall. Sparring with her sister almost let her entirely forget that Kate was being dramatic and obviously in the wrong.

Natasha wiped sweat off her brow. “Why not?”

“If I teach you how I do it you will do it to me later. It is my little secret.” Yelena replied, having no intention of losing anytime soon. Normally beating up the leader of a gang was a bad look for that gang leader, but everyone knew Natasha and Yelena were close enough personally and in skill that there was a drastic difference in ability it took for anyone not named Yelena to challenge the Black Widow.

“Is that why you never help the new arrivals learn how to fight for themselves?” Natasha playfully questioned.

Yelena only scoffed. “There are many reasons I don’t do that. I don’t have time. I don’t like annoying superheroes. They are very whiny. And I’m a killer, not a teacher” She asserted. She may have been in prison at the moment but her calling as a killer for hire hadn’t gone away. It just lay dormant while she worked as an enforcer.

Nat smirked. “Wow. Look at all those opinions you’ve got…”

“They’re the only four I have.” Yelena said flatly but Natasha knew that wasn’t true.

“That’s not true. You hate beets…” Black Widow offered, having seen a rather lengthy list in her sister’s cell of various opinions the woman now held.

Yelena nodded, knowing her bluff had been called. But there was one thing that demanded correction. “I do not hate beets. I don’t like beets because they taste like basement. I hate the Eiffel Tower.”

“Right. I should have known that.” That made perfect enough sense to Natasha.

Yelena grabbed a carton of cigarettes she’d set down on the floor before the fight, selecting one and raising it to her lips before she remembered…”You have to pay me for you losing.”

Natasha sighed, having been hoping her sister may forget about the fact that she needed to hold up her end of the deal. There wasn’t much to do in prison, so gambling on their own sparring sessions had become a pretty common form of passing the time. As if the sum wasn’t worth the bodies of several women, Natasha calmly handed over two more packs (one for each of her losses) that Yelena gladly took. “Smoking kills, you know.” she said as her little sister lit a cigarette.

Yelena rolled her eyes in response, finding Nat’s caution annoying.

Nat moved to stand beside Yelena where she smoothly took a cigarette from her sister’s box, lighting it and taking a long slow drag. They both contemplated their lives for a moment, Natasha on the rising issue of Carol Danvers and Yelena on why Kate was being unreasonable. It was Nat who spoke first, having sensed that something was on Yelena’s mind before they’d fought (but she knew her sister well enough to talk about personal stuff after they fought). “So how are things going with Kate?”

As if a faucet had been turned on, Yelena opened up, words spilling out all at once, “She is being so ungrateful. I do nothing but try to keep her safe and want to be a good girlfriend because I kind of really like her. But she is not. I protected her from Felicia today and she walked off, angry.” This was why Nat asked after they fought. Do it before and all she would have gotten was a simple ‘I’m fine.’

“Well have you stopped to think about why she left?”

“No.” Yelena replied honestly but not stopping to see where the flaw may lie.

“I think it would help. Try to understand why she’s hurting and then apologise.” Natasha was more than willing to work through it with Yelena, despite how painfully long it usually was trying to get her sister to understand people, but Maria Hill approaching was the cue that something was the matter and there was urgent gang business to take care of. Although she hated to do it, she bid Yelena ado hoping she could figure out the rest for herself.

—————————————————————

Two and a half hours after entering Emma Frost’s cell and Wanda was just now returning to her room. She’d have been exhausted, broken, and traumatised if she wasn’t too emotionally numb to feel much of anything and had been in prison far too long to truly register just how disturbing it all had been. Her body hurt, ass and tits stinging from being struck with a belt too many times to count. She just wanted to lay down and sleep and die.

Jean lay half-dressed on the top bunk reading through a years old magazine. She gave Wanda a simple look of acknowledgement, mildly surprised to see her. “Where have you been?”

Wanda meekly padded inside, shaking inside and out. Was it the question that made every second of what had just happened replay, or Jean digging through her mind for an answer? “E-Emma took me to her cell and she…she forced herself on me.” The words barely left her mouth, spoken in almost a whisper.

“I was almost becoming worried you’d been shivved by someone in Hydra.” Jean remarked.

Wanda wondered if Jean had even heard a word that she’d said because she didn’t respond in a way that indicated she had. “Jean, Emma raped me.”

Jean set her magazine aside, more annoyed than concerned. “Raped you? She paid me this morning to borrow you. Are we counting that as rape now?” To any reasonable individual the answer was a clear yes, but Jean wasn’t exactly in prison because she was a saint.

“Y-You didn’t tell me anything about that…” Wanda said slowly after a long pause. Sadly, she told herself that being sold didn’t count as her being sexually assaulted. It was just a small fee for Jean keeping her safe from the women that wanted to kill her. She almost felt stupid for not magically knowing Jean had promised her to a sadistic dominatrix.

“I guess I forgot to tell you.” Jean sighed. She’d had a long day and wasn’t interested in Wanda’s usual ‘dramatics.’

Wanda tensed, wanting to tell her girlfriend off but not having the strength too. All that came out was a weak: “Jean…” before being interrupted.

“Oh, so seemingly meeting with someone without my permission hurts you all of the sudden?” The connection to Wanda previously catching up with Nat when they played board games was pretty apparent. It was a false equivalency but Jean didn’t see it that way.

Wanda wasn’t sure what came over herself, but just for a moment she burned with a fury she hadn’t in a long while. In a tone that she’d never used against Jean before she snapped: “You should have told me that you were giving me to her!”

Jean paused, taken aback in surprise by Wanda having a backbone for once. That wasn’t how this ever went. She didn’t have time to formulate a response before The Phoenix took control now that there was someone’s spirit to crush. They couldn’t have Wanda thinking she could dare talk to them with anything but fear. “You will plead for my forgiveness.” the celestial being echoed into the witch’s head, drawing its burning talons through her mind. Although Wanda quickly submitted, the fact that she’d briefly dared to firmly object to her mistreatment at all was noteworthy.

Wanda stumbled as a ringing in her head grew louder and louder, progressively becoming the horrific shriek of The Phoenix. Its true voice was incomprehensible, indescribable to mortal minds. She’d never heard something so mind-splittingly loud in her life, certain that it would have made her lose her hearing if it wasn’t simply a mental construct. Her surroundings became fuzzy around her. Dropping to her knees she thought she was going to black out…and then it stopped.

Coming to, she saw Jean standing over her, a DVD in hand. It was one of Wanda’s cherished gifts…that The Phoenix proceeded to snap in two. Don’t question the canonicity of the Christmas special, just work with me here because the emotional weight of her breaking an object from the last chapter is interesting. While Wanda sat, horrified by the shards that remained of her gift, The Phoenix unashamedly undressed. As her jumpsuit fell to the floor she peeled off her standard issue prison panties and leaned over the bottom bunk, her bare butt sticking out. “This is the only dinner you’ve earned. Now lick.” she mentally commanded, words carving into Wanda’s mind like a knife.

Wanda shuffled closer, reminded why she didn’t object. Nestling her face close against The Phoenix’s ass, she pushed her tongue out until its wet tip entered her crack. The witch’s whole body was filled with a sensation of the utmost disgust. The only way this would end was by waiting for Jean to take back control, and so she licked. Her trickle of tears fell against Jean’s cheeks as the witch swirled her tongue in circles. The foreign feeling of sorrow only made the act all the more delicious for the celestial being in control. The Phoenix didn’t experience sexual pleasure quite like humans, instead much of the exhilaration came from the ‘taste’ of emotions that lesser-beings simply couldn’t begin to comprehend.

The witch applied more pressure and she could feel her tongue bend along as she worked her way along her girlfriend’s ass. She found it hard to not think about where Jean’s bum had been, or how badly she must have sweat in the hot prison. The Phoenix gripped the bedsheets tight, inhuman breaths growing raspier. She could feel herself getting closer.

Wanda picked up her pace, bringing her face in closer and tongue working faster as desperately wanted Jean to just cum already. The final pass of her bitch’s tongue finally brought The Phoenix to cum – directly onto the witch’s sheets. Without any indication that she was going to move, The Phoenix turned around and spread her legs, wetness staining the bedding between her thighs. “Lick it up.” she commanded in her characteristically distant tone and Wanda was powerless to object…for now. What was strange was how furious she felt inside, although she didn’t dare express it.

—————————————————————

After Nat left, Yelena had given the argument with Kate much thought. Ultimately she’d come to the conclusion that Kate was being far too sensitive…but that she would apologise anyway because she didn’t like not talking to her dorky cellmate. When Yelena returned to her cell she found Kate picking up hair ties, Cassie unfortunately had hastily departed back to Maya’s a few minutes ago.

“Oh…hey.” Kate greeted awkwardly, looking up at the blonde assassin with incredibly mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was glad to see her friend. On the other hand, she was still incredibly upset with her.

Looking remorseful, Yelena stepped inside and eyed Kate. “I want to say apology.” Good that was done. Now they could move on and live out her cellmate fantasies…except why was Kate looking at her like that?

Kate had beamed as Yelena started to apologise…and then there was no further elaboration. Still waiting, she softly said: “Ok…” There was more, right?

“I did it. I said sorry. Now we can move on.” Yelena said matter-of-factly, giving an expectant look to Kate like she was somehow being weird.

“That wasn’t an apology” Kate stated plainly, annoyance overpowering friendliness. Her hope for resolution had been cut down in an instant. “Look, if you aren’t actually going to say sorry please don’t try. I get it, you think people being stripped of their dignity is funny. But I just am not okay with seeing how some women here are treated. Today I met a girl and-” Kate started to explain but was cut off as Yelena questioned:

“You met a girl?” The assassin sounded hurt.

Kate paused, giving Yelena a look of confusion. “Okay, I feel like you're probably mentally putting way more weight on that than I meant. As I was saying-”

Yelena didn’t hear a word of what Kate had just said though. Her mind was now far too busy deciding if she needed to hurt someone to alleviate an already growing jealousy. That would show…whoever this person was. “This girl, who was she?”

“Will you let me finish a sentence?” Kate asked, mildly annoyed. “Cassie Lang”

Yelena looked relieved. Absolutely no one could ever feasibly fall for Cassie Lang. “Oh Cassie Lang. I know her. She cleans my underwear.”

Kate raised her brow, even more confused. “Okay and you were worried about me seeing her?” she questioned, giving Yelena a quizzical look.

“Relax. She does it with her mouth.” Yelena didn’t see how that kind of went against her point.

Returning back to her initial point, Kate asked: “Does she do that willingly?”

“Who chooses to wash underwear with their mouth, Kate Bishop?” Yelena responded in turn, still painfully failing to see what Kate was getting to.

“That’s my point! I don’t understand how you’re okay with all of this! All I’m saying is that maybe if someone is being forced to do something they don’t want to do we should rethink partaking in making them do it.”

Yelena nodded. “So she should be free to clean underwear with her mouth by her own choice?”

“Uh sure…I guess?” Kate answered, not really sure what to say.

Yelena laughed. “It is just what happens in prison. This is a dangerous place and she is at the bottom of the pyramid. Which means she is actually at someone’s bottom. If she wants to be protected there are things she has to do that she won’t like. But it is better than being with people who will be very rough. What do you think your mother is doing right now?”

Kate breathed in deeply, taken aback by the completely unnecessary reminder. “Say sorry.” she said, a surprisingly stern command coming from her.

But Yelena didn’t relent. It wasn’t that she was trying to hurt Kate, but she’d never really been raised with a good understanding on what not to say. So with all the grace of a machine gun in an opera house, she confidently replied: “I will not say sorry for telling the truth. She is probably getting squirted on while the other inmates test how much they can fit in her butt. But that is not my fault, so not for me to apologise for.”

Kate stood in stunned silence, taken aback by just how low Yelena had been willingly to go. In the relatively short span of time between Christmas and Kate being arrested, she’d managed to visit her mother once and it was hard to say she looked like she was doing well. She didn’t even know what to say to Yelena at the moment because words seemingly couldn’t convey what she felt. Her confidence and her frustration were both gone. Simply blank.

That was what made Yelena realise that she’d done…something. But what? It wasn’t like she was being incredibly insensitive or anything. “What did I do?”

It took Kate a moment to speak again but she did manage to find her senses. “Maybe I don’t like the fact that you’re talking about what my mom is…probably…going through” No matter what, seeing women being treated so poorly would have been concerning to say the least, but Kate realised that a part of her feelings on it were that it painfully reminded her of her mom.  With the patience of a saint, Kate managed to avoid simply yelling at Yelena for being a completely filterless asshole. “How would you feel if I said that about Nat?”

Yelena snorted. “That would never happen to her.”

“Hypothetically it happens to her. How would you feel if I said that she was going through that”

“You would be on the floor before you finished saying such an awful thing.” Yelena replied without a beat.

Working with Yelena’s violent hypothetical reaction, Kate continued: “Exactly. Ok so do you see why I might be mad at you for saying that about my mom?”

That made things click for the assassin, a rare apologetic look coming over her face as she realised why what she said may have hurt Kate’s feelings. “I am sorry, Kate Bishop. That is not happening to your mom.”

Yelena got like 40% of Kate’s point but to the archer that was a sign there was the capacity for improvement. “I actually visited her before I was arrested…and I knew something was wrong but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what it was. If I knew I wouldn’t see her again I would have tried harder to actually help. But what I did was yell at her for what she did.” Kate lamented, growing sadder the more she thought about it. “ I really don’t like seeing it happen to anyone, but every time I see it in the yard all I can think of are the awful things that she’s going through.” Kate sniffled, not wanting to cry.

Yelena felt an immense weight of guilt. She hated guilt. It was something she’d been trained to not feel, but something about the sad look that enveloped Kate broke her Red-Room-hardened heart. She couldn’t bear seeing the archer like this, especially not when it was because of something she did. She would have done anything to make Kate feel better and so, earnestly this time, she apologised again and pulled on Kate’s hand, moving her towards her. They both sat down on the bottom bunk bed, the feeling of fighting having left both of them. Kate was quiet for a while, getting her composure. Yelena waited patiently.

“If you look really deep in your heart, don't you think the stuff happening here isn’t normal?” Kate tried, not wanting to fight again but wanting to understand Yelena’s mindset. She looked Yelena in the eyes, trying to connect.

Yelena let out a long breath and averted her eyes awkwardly. “What you have to understand, Kate Bishop, is that I did not have a normal life. I did not have a normal childhood, or any sense of what ‘normal’ is at all. I did not know any different from that. I learned to survive whatever was thrown at me, sometimes literally. So that’s what I did here, I adapted myself to the environment.” The brief moment of vulnerability made Yelena uncomfortable, but she felt it was necessary as it seemed the only way to get through to Kate. “I don’t care what happens to those other women. I only care what happens to me, and to Natasha. And…to you.” She gave Kate a meaningful look, hoping to convey just how much she wanted to protect her cellmate and the respect she had for her. “I wish I could look at life the way you do, sometimes. True, I think it can make you weak. But I envy your positivity. I envy your empathy and the way you care about others in a way I do not think I can. But I do care about you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Kate didn’t know what overtook her in that moment, but without a thought she leaned in to kiss Yelena, lips locking in sweet embrace. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind raced, but she didn’t even notice. All she cared about was the feeling of Yelena’s warm lips against hers. At one point in her life she’d thought she’d been as straight as an arrow, but she’d admittedly been questioning things ever since her first shower in The Raft – unable to resist glancing at Yelena and Natasha’s perfect bodies. And then it caught up with her. What was she doing? With a look of sudden shock she pulled away, blushing bright red.

Yelena gasped, more confused than she’d been in awhile. “What was that?” She asked, more amused than anything else. It was as if an unspoken promise had been broken and both women finally were able to see each other clearly for the first time.

“I don’t know! I-” but before Kate could say any more, the blonde had grabbed her by her orange jumpsuit, pulling her in close as they fell into a kiss. The archer moaned slightly, her mouth moving more eagerly by the second. Yelena grabbed her partner's arms, pushing her against the wall as she matched her intensity. As their kissing became more intense, the blonde's hands trailed down Kate's arms before the two women intertwined their fingers. Kate's tongue entangled Yelena's, the assassin moaning as they tasted each other. Then the assassin pulled away, moving down to kiss Kate’s neck and softly biting while the archer relented, allowing her cellmate to do whatever she wanted.

Yelena ran her hands up Kate’s jumpsuit-clad body, fingers stopping at the zipper. “Is…is this okay?” She asked carefully, almost not believing her own attitude towards the situation. She had never had to ask for consent before or cared enough to.

Kate nodded with a bright blush on her cheeks, tufts of her dark hair covering her face. “Do whatever you want.” She said breathlessly. Yelena gave the zipper a rough pull, exposing the archer’s perky breasts. Without hesitation Yelena began circling her cellmate’s nipple with her tongue. For someone who seemed ready to pounce, Yelena was taking her time and being careful. Kate’s breath hitched as the woman continued to kiss, lick, and suck her breasts, giving both equal attention. Their lips met once more as Yelena gently pushed Kate down, her head resting on the pillow and her hands resting nervously on her chest. Words failed the normally over-talkative archer, breaths hitching as Yelena kissed down the length of her  torso, never breaking eye contact as she got lower. Of all the women Yelena's been with, none had ever been like Kate.

Kate moaned softly, overcome by the pleasure of the assassin leaving no part of her untouched. Right before ripping the zipper down entirely, Yelena came back up, their lips crashing into each other again. Now it was Kate’s turn to reach for the zipper of her partner’s clothes, fidgeting with it before Yelena stopped her, sitting up and undoing the jumpsuit herself. The orange fabric slid off of Yelena’s toned shoulders, her muscles clear as day now that nothing was concealing them. Undressed, Yelena went back down between the archer’s thighs, almost going for her pussy but then switching to the other thigh. This has nothing to do with simple prison sex. This was passion and longing, meaning behind every act.

The body worship, the eye contact, the sight of Yelena in-between her legs, it all had Kate wanting more. She didn't know how much more she could take.

Yelena smiled, noticing Kate’s plight. The game had gone on long enough. She slowly dragged her tongue along Kate’s folds, eliciting a sharp gasp. The assassin wrapped her arms around Kate’s thighs, pulling her closer as she began. A strangled moan escaped the archer’s throat, her hand instinctively grabbing her lover's head as Yelena began to lap away at her. The blonde licked and sucked her clit, driving Kate over the edge as she moaned louder and louder with every wet pass.

Kate shrieked as the pressure built, gripping Yelena’s hair tighter as her thighs squeezed her head. The archer could hardly breathe between moans, overwhelmed by the sensation of the assassin’s tongue working in her pussy. Words came back to Kate, though they were rather limited. “Yes, yes, yes…” She moaned as she got closer and closer, now bucking her hips, grinding against her lover's face. She could feel it. She was about to-

Yelena stopped, pulling away right before Kate was about to cum. The archer looked down at her, confused and needy. The assassin moved back up for a kiss. As their lips met, Yelena inserted two fingers inside of Kate, slowly pumping them in and out. Strictly saying, Yelena had become somewhat of a professional and that was even before she entered prison.

Feeling Yelena’s fingers rubbing against her and tasting her own juices on Yelena’s tongue, Kate could bear it no longer. “Yelena… I'm…” she tried to get the words out between moans and kisses.

Yelena smirked with satisfaction, suddenly moving her fingers much faster as they pressed their foreheads together. Kate began to whimper, unable to form words. “That's it. Cum for me.” The assassin spoke.

At those words, Kate practically was riding her cellmate’s fingertips. And then with a crescendo, her body convulsed as she came hard, wetness pooling on the thin prison sheets. Her eyes almost rolled back as her lover's fingers continued to pump into her.

“Wow…you’re…you’re…way too good at this” Kate exclaimed as she caught her breath. While it had left her unsure about a lot of things, one thing was certain: she's never come that hard before.The archer sat up, meeting Yelena’s gaze as she looked at her with eyes full of desire.

“I know. I’m the best at this.” Yelena said with her usual humility, licking Kate’s wetness off her fingers.

Kate was still coming down from the euphoric bliss of her climax as she said: “I didn’t know that I…”

“Like women?” Yelena finished the sentence for her since clearly the archer was having a hard time talking. “You are in prison, Kate Bishop. Everyone here likes women.”

They looked at each other, bewildered and both chuckled.

—————————————————————

The next day came and Medusa was the new leader of the Galaxy Gals, the gang war seemingly over before it had started.

Stepping into the showers, the Inhuman queen had her head held high. She felt more unbeatable than she had in a long time. With every graceful step she eyed those around her with a pompous air of sweet superiority.

She reached an available shower head where she used her long locks of hair to fetch a bar of soap and hand it to Ayesha so that the golden alien may wash her new mistress under the hot stream of water. Though she protested at first, Ayesha eventually submitted to the task and began running the bar of soap along Medusa’s wet body.

Deep in thought, Medusa reflected over what her next course of action as gang leader would be. Sure they were now subservient to Jean Grey…for now, but there were a great many things that needed to be done before things were to Medusa’s liking. First matter of business would be ridding herself of the lingering nuisance that Carol presented. She could have her killed, but admittedly she much preferred the idea of taking her for herself or giving her up as a gift to Jean.

But Medusa’s thought would be broken as she felt someone shove her against the wall from behind. She tried to turn to see who it was but, pinned against the tiles, the most she could catch was the sight from her peripheral of Ayesha stepping aside. Suddenly she felt someone pressing their body against hers, wrapping one arm around her chest to grope her, the other down her thigh towards sticking their fingers in her pussy, and she could feel their hard nipples against her back.

“Get off me!” Medusa protested, coming to her senses and trying to use her hair to wrap around their throat...but someone else came beside her and held her hair tight in their grasp.

“You’re ours now…” the voice of the person with their body against hers spoke, robotic and sultry at the same time. It was distinctly Nebula.

Medusa was spun around to face her assailants, suddenly overcome with terror when she saw who they were: Nebula, Proxima Midnight, and Supergiant.

“Not just you but this whole gang” Nebula continued, pumping her fingers in and out of the fearful queen. Raising her tone, she addressed those in the Galaxy Gals: “Hear me and rejoice! Your gang has the privilege of being saved by the Daughters of the Great Titan. If any of you don’t like that though…” Nebula pulled her hand from between Medusa’s thighs and began to instead choke her. “...we’ll do the same to you…”

And with those words the three Daughters of Thanos began violently taking turns using their brand new plaything, forcing her into licking just about everything there was to lick. If Medusa thought serving as Carol’s advisor was degrading, she certainly wasn’t prepared for what Nebula did to her. Medusa’s gang was usurped from her grasp just as she’d finally taken control.

—————————End Credit Scene————————-

“You’re not taking me somewhere to kill me are you? That will not go well for you.” Yelena remarked as she was escorted by two guards. She and Kate had been asleep in each other’s arms when she’d abruptly been pulled from her cell, told to get dressed, and bound for a destination unknown. The handcuffs and shackles they’d put on her seemed rather excessive since she could have probably killed her guards regardless, but the most she did for now was roll her eyes in annoyance. She was still reminiscing on the moment between her and the archer and nothing could ruin her good mood.

They passed through several unfamiliar hallways, doors closing behind them as they went, and went up a flight of stairs. The room they finally arrived at was nice, far nicer than any other location in The Raft. Standing at the window overlooking the tumultuous ocean down below stood Warden Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Without turning to address her guest, she spoke: “Yelena, I’d like to talk to you about the Thunderbolts Initiative…”

Chapter Text

Michelle Jones returned dejectedly to the cramped prison cell she shared with Felicia Hardy, Mary Jane Watson, Gwen Stacy, and Liz Allan. Wearing nothing but the humiliating orange bikini she was forced to put on, the harsh cell lighting glinted off Michelle’s sweat-covered skin as she staggered along, still panting from her shift in the vibranium mines. She could barely keep herself upright and so, unimaginably exhausted, she flopped down to the bottom bunk. 

Due to the crowded arrangement of things, Michelle almost never had the bed just to herself. Some days she laid with Mary Jane, others it was with Liz, much less often it was with Gwen. But right now they were all preoccupied, and so, just for a moment, Michelle had the bed all to herself.

Lost in her grim recollection of how her life was ruined, Michelle barely took notice of the thin-metal frame of the bunk above her being rocked like it was about to collapse. It was a sound she heard pretty often, either coming from her cell or the ones adjacent. Often it was both. 

Above, Liz was moaning uncontrollably, partly just to appease her cruel prison mommy. Everyone had their own way of coping with belonging to Black Cat and, if you asked Michelle, Liz had chosen to do it by becoming a complete kiss-ass (in the metaphorical and literal sense, since technically they all had to do the act). “Yes! Babe! Yes!” Liz obnoxiously moaned with all the conviction of a porn star as she lightly grabbed onto Felicia’s shoulder for support and managed to continue fingering her as Felicia played with her pussy. She wouldn’t be allowed to cum (none of them were), but deep down she still desperately hoped maybe if she sucked up to Felicia enough she’d finally get to. Today wasn’t that day though as Felicia gasped, spraying Liz’s fingertips, and then disappointingly, yet predictably, stopped letting her bitch have any fun. 

But while the constant moaning for an half an hour straight didn’t annoy Michelle, it got on Gwen Stacy’s nerves. The brilliant blonde lay on the floor trying to cover her ears and close her eyes, thinking about being with Peter outside of prison. She couldn’t handle it much longer. She was going to lose her mind!  But eventually the moaning stopped. Gwen looked up at the top bunk in curiosity and saw both of the girls hugging each other. 

Black Cat’s tits were so big and perfectly shaped, Gwen would have been lying if she said that she wasn’t at least a little turned on. She’d never been attracted to another woman, but while looking at the two of them together she suddenly felt her cotton prison-panties becoming wet. Although she wanted to rip her jumpsuit open and start fingering herself like she hadn’t touched herself in months (because she hadn’t), she didn’t. And not just because Felicia didn’t allow her bitches to masturbate. Gwen Stacy had standards and she couldn’t believe that she was actually attracted to a power hungry bitch like Felicia. It surely had to be the desperation of being away from men for so long, right?

Wearily Mary Jane Watson rested her head against the barred window, looking longingly at the vast ocean surrounding The Raft; deep down dreaming of freedom despite knowing it would never happen. She’d have done anything to be away from her cellmates. To not have to hear the incessant moans. She hated all of them and yet she was stuck with them for the rest of her life. 

Michelle Jones shut her eyes, the crappy prison bedding feeling strangely comfortable after the day she’d had. Her arms ached and her body was still burning up. It was strange how the days seemed to drag in prison, merging all together into a mental blur of hard labour, sexual humiliation, and seething jealousy of Peter Parker’s other girlfriends. It weighed on her in that moment just how miserable she was. How had her life turned out like this? That’s when her thoughts began to drift to how she ended up in this living Hell in the first place…

————————————————————— 

The 3rd of September, 2024 – two years ago. It had been a late night as Michelle got ready for bed in her dorm room at ESU. Having changed into a comfortable red pair of Spider-Man themed pyjamas, made herself a cup of peppermint tea, and opened her computer to do a little more studying before bed, she’d put her headphones on and slowly began to drift into sweet sleep while reading a paper on psychology. She was so tired that she probably wouldn’t have heard if someone entered her room-

That was when she was suddenly stirred by what sounded like a battering ram being knocked against her door. She then realised to her horror that it was a battering ram. “What the fuck?” Michelle groggily grumbled, dazed and confused, as she tried to get out of bed. Tossing her blanket aside and rising to her feet, it slowly dawned on her why they were here. The Sokovia Accords. She’d been harbouring the location of her boyfriend, Peter Parker, and SWORD had finally caught on. 

“Oh…oh shit.” She said, her realisation growing at just how screwed she was. The agents were yelling now but it was hard to hear them. Michelle managed to make out phrases and words, enough for her rapidly-awakening mind to put it together. They were here to arrest her. 

Michelle’s eyes darted to the window, wondering if she could make it and climb out before they grabbed her. She’d barely taken a step in that direction before the door shattered into pieces and she heard one of the agents shout: “Don’t move! Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head!” There was no use in running as her apprehenders filed in, high-tech weaponry raised. 

“Okay, okay!” Michelle panicked, her voice trembling as she raised her hands in surrender and slowly assumed the position. 

The agents roughly grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back. Her wrist and ankles were bound in painfully tight cable ties. Even amidst the complete chaos, Michelle couldn’t help but dryly ask: “Is this really necessary?”

"You've violated the Sokovia Accords of the Geneva Conventions. You are a war criminal by international and US law." The commander of the agents addressed. 

“Geneva con-...What? Who did I torture?” Michelle asked, equal parts indignant and perplexed. She wondered how the world got this fucked up so fast. How had people voted for such draconian legislation? 

The agents didn’t respond though. Instead, they threw a black bag over her head and carted her off through the university dorm in front of a bewildered crowd of classmates and fellow students. She wriggled and thrashed as best she could, giving a series of muffled yells into the bag. It achieved nothing. Hope was taken from her when she sensed them toss her into the back of a vehicle of some kind. A windowless black van most likely. She seriously doubted that they’d give her her one phone call as she felt the vehicle take off at high speeds. 

Michelle was left to roll around the back for what seemed like forever, wondering where they were taking her. She knew it couldn’t have been anywhere nice, but she would be given a trial, right? Surely a court of law would see this for the travesty of justice that this was. Questions flooded Michelle’s mind as she realised she didn’t even know who her captors were. All that she could do was pull at her restraints, less out of an expectation of anything than out of a desire to feel like she was doing…something. The hours back there drew on like years…and then the van stopped. 

The agents took her out, still blackbagged and bound, carrying her into a room. She then felt one of the men cut the cable around her legs before placing her down on her feet, hands still tied in front of her. They then removed the bag and handed her over to a group of women in high-tech uniforms, not that Michelle took in what they were wearing in her disoriented state. Nothing seemed to make sense. 

Taking her by her arms, they led her down a hall into a separate room where she was escorted in front of a white desk with what looked like an orange prison uniform placed on top. It was in her size, but there wasn’t a bra or pair of shoes to go with it. Michelle’s bonds were cut by a woman who looked her up and down with lust in her eyes, making the captured girl shift with discomfort. 

Michelle sighed, looking at the uniform. “Fine, let’s get this over with. Where do I go to change?”

The woman chuckled. “You don’t go anywhere. I’m gonna search you first, princess” She wolfishly grinned.

Michelle felt her skin crawl at those words. “Search? Is this like a patdown or an…airport scanner situation or…?”

“You could say it’s like the airport.” The guard replied. “Place your hands on the wall, shoulder length apart and stick your butt out.” 

Michelle nodded and obediently assumed the position in time to feel the guard step behind her, her hot breath breathing down her neck as she eyed the captive’s ass in the tight PJs she wore. “Before I begin, do you have any sharp objects on your person? Anything that could prick me?”

“Uh…my ears are pierced…” Michelle said weakly. “The needle might, y’know…”

"That's fine, but we will have to remove the piercings. I'll get you to do that in a minute. Right now I'm not worried about your ears, darlin" The woman began to pat Michelle down, starting with her chest. It clearly wasn't procedure as she started to get way too grabby, groping her tits and then moving down her waist until her hands cupped Michelle’s ass in both hands.

“H-Hey!” Michelle cried out, almost involuntarily. “There’s…There’s nothing there…”

The guard spanked Michelle’s ass with a loud smack . “That’s what they all say, darlin. I’ll be the judge of that.” Michelle then heard her take a step back. “Ok, Jones. Now can you take your arms off the wall and turn around for me?”

Michelle did so, turning around to face her, looking noticeably less confident than she’d been a minute ago. 

“Now strip for me. Remove every article one at a time. Start with the top and work your way down. Put them in a pile on the desk next to you.” The guard was not the patient type. 

Michelle’s eyes widened and she blinked. “You can’t be serious…” She replied.

“I’m very fucking serious. Like you must have been for harbouring that freak enemy of the state.” That was the nicest way the woman knew how to ask. 

“I-I…” Michelle sighed before wordlessly beginning to unbutton her pyjama top. She’d never felt so humiliated in her life…but this was only the beginning. She didn’t know that humiliation would become something of a daily occurrence going forward. 

But evidently she was moving too slow for her bitchy guard, who yelled: “I don’t got all night, bitch. Strip!” Hurrying up, Michelle took off her top and put it on the table, moving her left arm to cover her breasts. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.” The guard chided. 

“You haven’t seen mine.” Michelle grumbled back, awkwardly taking off her pyjama bottoms with her right hand. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll have a close look at them pretty soon. Hurry up.” 

Michelle hastily put the bottoms on the table and tried to cover herself as fast as possible. But it didn’t matter because the guard had a new command:

“Take those earrings out, honey.” She said with a lustful smirk. It was pretty clear she only was really ordering it because she wanted to make this as miserable of an experience as possible. Michelle sighed again, unable to resist. Reluctantly she moved her arms and went to take her earrings out, blushing hard as her perky brown tits and shaved pussy were revealed to the room. 

The guard looked excited by the sight. “Alright, Jones, turn back around and assume the position again.”

“Wha…You’ve already pat me down…” Michelle complained. 

The guard smiled sadistically, practically salivating at how completely powerless her plaything was. “You’re right. And now I’m gonna do more than just pat you” 

Michelle was disgusted but got the impression that arguing wouldn’t improve her situation. She turned around and then the guard stepped back behind. She grabbed hold of Michelle’s breasts, kneading them thoroughly and firmly. Pinching at the girl’s nipples. Michelle gasped. “H-Hey! That’s sexual harassment! I have rights…” 

The guard slapped the girl’s ass again. “Oh bullshit. You don’t have any rights, bitch” She went back to kneading Michelle’s tits until she was satisfied there was nothing between them. 

Michelle then heard the snap of latex and her sphincter closed on reflex. A second later an unlubed finger entered her ass and started probing around the walls. 

“Ah! There’s…nothing…up there!” Michelle protested. 

“Is that right? Maybe I’m not looking hard enough!” The guard shoved a second finger up Michelle’s tight virgin hole. Michelle hadn't ever let Peter back there before because of course she hadn’t. She hadn’t let anyone back there because it fucking hurt, as the guard was so kindly demonstrating now. She grit her teeth and mentally begged for it to be over soon. 

But the guard wasn’t satisfied. She still had one more hole to go and so, without changing gloves, she forced her fingers up Michelle’s pussy. “So this is where you take all your boyfriend’s spider cum then, Jones?” she crassly asked, shoving her fingers in and out of the captive rapidly. Literally all pretense of procedure was gone and Michelle was left violated…and strangely aroused. Her heart sank at the fear of if Peter had evaded capture, but selfishly, she was a bit more worried about herself in the moment. He had powers, she didn’t. She had no idea what would happen to her. 

The guard probed Michelle’s pussy for a full minute before finally saying: “Alright, Jones. You’re clear for contraband. You can get dressed now.” Michelle had been waiting for her to say those words for the last ten minutes. 

Michelle hurried over to the table, any confidence she formerly had now definitely gone as she changed into the orange jumpsuit. Frowning, she looked down at her new attire. Orange was not her colour. She didn’t even stop to ask why she hadn’t been given shoes in her mortified state. 

The guard pulled a pair of cuffs from her belt and fastened them tightly around Michelle’s wrists. "Now I'm going to escort you to your trial. I dont to have to tell you this, but I'm legally required to. Despite your clear lack of rights, you do have one. The right to an attorney. If you don't have one, the court will provide one. Is there somebody you would like us to contact for you"

Michelle blinked. "My trial...but...what about charges? An arraignment? A bail hearing?”

"All that will happen in the same hearing." The guard answered. 

Things just kept getting worse. “That...that can't be legal." Michelle insisted.

"I assure you that under the Sokovia Accords, it is indeed very legal. We can do anything we want to unlawful belligerents like you.” The guard said ominously. “Now I'm gonna ask you again. Do you want us to contact a legal consul for you?"

There was a single name that came to Michelle’s mind. A lawyer who worked on exception cases involving superhumans and did cases like this quid pro quo. Michelle took a deep breath to control herself. "Jennifer." She replied. "Jennifer Walters"

The guard nodded. "Figures you’d say her name. You fuck a freak, you want one to defend you too."

-

Michelle was taken to a small interview room. There was a mirror on the wall behind her which she knew must go two ways. There were probably government agents watching behind it. But that didn’t matter at the moment. She just wanted her lawyer to arrive so that she could escape this living nightmare as soon as possible. After what felt like forever, the woman Michelle summoned to defend her arrived with her arms full of legal documents and a sympathetic face. 

"Hey..." Michelle said, trying to sound less scared than she was. 

“Ms Jones, I'm Jennifer Walters, you asked for me to defend you?” Jenn asked as she took a seat opposite of the young woman in front of her. 

"Yeah." Michelle nodded. "I guess they...told you what I'm in for...do you handle this kind of thing often?"

Jenn nodded in turn. “Lately, It's all I've been dealing with. Now, MJ, is that what you prefer or should I call you Michelle?”

"Uh, MJ please." Michelle said. She usually reserved that for her friends, but if she was trusting this woman with her freedom, she figured she should probably think of her as a friend, if only as a coping mechanism.

Jenn looked at her with the deepest sympathy, holding her hand. “MJ, I'm not going to lie. I'll do my best for you, but I'm not sure how much I can do exactly. Although I'm bound to abide by them, these accords are a travesty of the sanctity of the law that I have sworn to uphold. 95% of the time, they've already made up their mind before you step foot in the courtroom”

Michelle went pale. "But...but surely a jury will..."

“There is no jury. And even if there was, public opinion has turned on superheroes not owned by Oscorp.” Jenn relayed regretfully. It had become increasingly harder to fight for superhumans when every factor of the legal system was against them. 

"But...the constitution. I...I have a right to..." Michelle’s voice grew weak as her assertion died in her throat. She gulped. “So…what’s going to happen to me?”

Jenn let go of Michelle’s hand so that she may peruse through one of her files. “Well that depends on what you want to do. The way I see it, I've been looking at your case and there's a mountain of evidence that you've helped conceal Peter Parker's identity as Spider-Man so you can't plead ignorance. They won't buy that”

Michelle solemnly understood. "So...some sort of plea deal, then?"

Jenn nodded. “The best we can do is plead guilty, but argue that you are not a danger to anyone. You yourself have no super powers or abilities.”

"Okay...and what happens to me then?" Michelle asked fearfully. 

“Right now, you are facing indefinite imprisonment at The Raft. But we can appeal to the judge to have you spend a lesser sentence in a normal prison” Jenn replied. 

Michelle grimaced. "So I'm definitely going to prison?"

Jennifer took a long breath. She seemed to meditate for a moment, as if to control her heart rate. She composed herself and then responded: “I'm afraid so. I'm so sorry that your only choices are prison and prison, but regular prison will be alot easier than life on the Raft. I might be able to get you released in fifteen years time instead of never. Begging the Judge for clemency is our only choice”

"Fifteen years?!" Michelle asked, louder than she intended. She was in college with a bright future ahead of her…and now she faced the fact that all of that was about to be ripped away. She took a few deep breaths and nodded weakly. "Okay..." She gasped. "Okay I'll...I'll take the plea."

“Alright. I'll do what I can for you” Jenn stood up and tucked the documents under her arm, then she walked over to the door and called a guard over. 

"Uh, just...one more thing..." Michelle implored. 

Jenn stopped. “Yes?”

The words got caught in Michelle’s throat, her own question seeming unbearable. "What can I expect...y'know...in there?" She asked cautiously. 

Jenn went silent as a somber look washed over her face. She thought for a second on what to say. “Have you ever seen the show Wentworth?”

"No." Michelle replied. "I've seen Orange is the New Black if that helps.”

“Well it's…” Jenn stumbled over her own words. “...It's worse than that. I won't lie to you, it's a nightmare, but real prison is heaven compared to the hell that is The Raft.” An essence of dread hung over her. If it could terrify the great She-Hulk, Michelle didn’t want to imagine how bad it could really be. 

Michelle went silent, uncharacteristically bereft of snark or smart comebacks. "Okay." She said quietly. "I'm ready."

And so before the court Michelle was dragged, on trial for helping the man she loved. The room was clearly not set up the same as it should have been. There was no jury. Not even a stand for the jury. Just a single judge who also acted as prosecutor. Michelle rolled her eyes at that, the unfairness of the whole process on full display. She idly wondered why they bothered with the veneer of a trial at all.

Looming high, the judge banged her gavel and then spoke. “Michelle Jones, you are brought here before me today accused of the following breaches of the Sokovia Accords: Aiding and abetting an unregistered living weapon of mass destruction, concealing the Identity of a living weapon of mass destruction, Fraternizing with an unregistered living weapon of mass destruction, and obstruction of justice…”

“Objection your honor. My client has never directly impeded a criminal investigation” Jennifer’s veins glowed a pale green for a moment. 

The judge wasn’t going for it though. “Overruled. Failure to inform is impediment. How does the defendant plead?”

Michelle sighed and rolled her eyes, briefly having thought about commenting on the obvious unfairness of the whole process but deciding against us. She met Jennifer's eyes, looking for her approval, and nodded. And with that, Jenn replied: “My client pleads guilty on all charges, your honour, and will comply with any demands you make for her to receive clemency.” 

The judge banged their gavel. “Why should the defendant be granted clemency?”

Jennifer stood before the judge and she argued: “Your honor, my client has no previous convictions. Until the passing of the Sokovia Accords, Michelle Jones was the picture of a law abiding citizen. She didn't even have overdue library books. My client, while guilty of 'fraternizing with living WMDS" is not one herself. She is a mortal human aged just 19 and is no way fit to be housed in such a high secure facility as The Raft with many known criminals including mutants, terrorists,  assassins, neo-nazis, and supposedly, alien warlords. Instead, I plead with you, Honourable Judge Torres, to sentence my client to serve her term at a regular civilian prison. I seriously fear for my clients well being and safety in a facility like The Raft” 

Michelle’s heart quickened at her lawyer’s words. Neo-nazis? Alien warlords? This was all completely insane when all she’d done was date a classmate. Her mind began to race but stopped when Jennifer looked at her and smiled - as if to say that she'd achieved what she promised, that Michelle would go to a normal prison. But we of course know how things would turn out for poor Michelle. 

The judge furiously thundered her gavel. "Did you client think about the safety and well being of the people of this great nation when she harboured a dangerous individual who knowingly defied SWORD by breaking the accords?"

“W-what? But... Your honour” Jenn stammered, stunned. 

The next words barely registered for Michelle, who was left in mouth-hanging-open horror as the judge decreed: “Michelle Jones, I find you guilty of all charges and sentence you to indefinite imprisonment aboard The Raft!”

Jenn’s skin shifted to a vague green for a moment. She couldn’t help Michelle now. All she could do was try to control her outrage at this travesty of justice. She was left breathing heavily, face in her palm, as Michelle was grabbed by each arm and dragged from the court, crying out: "What the fuck!? This is ridiculous! I played along with your stupid fake court and I didn't even do anything!" 

The flight to The Raft was all a blur, hours lost as Michelle sat in a disbelieving trance. She’d kicked and screamed all the way to the transportation quinjet, cursing and begging them to send her anywhere else, but now she was silent. Degraded, humiliated, exhausted, and terrified. ‘Indefinite imprisonment aboard The Raft.’ The sentence repeated in her head over and over again, making her feel sick. The haunting realisation that she’d die in prison gnawed at her sanity. This was her life now. She was an inmate. All hope of ever seeing the outside world was crushed. And what would life in this supposed Hell look like? She couldn’t bear to think of just how awful it must be. 

Arriving at The Raft and having then endured another handsy search, this time at the hands of one Officer Weaver, Michelle was escorted through Cellblock C – in which she’d done her absolute best to ignore the catcalls of the horny inmates. Then, before she could even take in the sight of her cell, she was pushed in and the door was locked behind her. 

"Uh..." Michelle began, cautiously. "...Hello? I'm Michelle...Michelle Jones..." She nervously introduced herself before even fully taking in the sight of the three women she was bunked with. 

“Michelle Jones?!” One of the women suddenly exclaimed, voice all too familiar. 

Michelle looked on in surprise. "Liz?!"

“Oh my god they got you too!” Liz looked like she’d seen better days as she sat tiredly against the wall. Her jumpsuit lay unzipped, halfway down to being entirely open. Recognising her, Michelle looked to the other two. The first was a redhead, freckled, similar in age to Michelle. She hardly looked intimidating, but the hateful glare she gave Michelle was more than a little unwelcoming. The other sat on the edge of her bed looking at the new girl with interest. She obviously knew Michelle, but Michelle didn’t know her. The woman had a strange mask over her eyes that the guards had apparently allowed her to wear. It wasn’t like they didn’t know her identity. But the most notable detail about her was her pure ice-white hair.

“Well, well, well. Isn't this a pleasant surprise? You must be the main girl ” The woman with white hair smiled. 

Michelle stared blankly. "The...what?"

“You're the one he tells everybody else about!” the mysterious woman replied. 

That didn’t help clarify things at all for Michelle. "What? Who? Also...who are you?"

She got up from her bed and smiled suspiciously at Michelle, extending her hand out. “I've heard so much about you…”

Michelle gave her a wary look, knowing better than to just trust the first person you meet in prison. Still, she shook her hand. "You have me at a disadvantage, then. Who are you?"

“Felicia Hardy. You probably heard about me on the news. The super clever and talented cat-burglar? Might have heard about my run ins and tumblings with a mutual acquaintance of ours.” She looked at the mostly silent Liz and the redhead. “Lizzy knows him too. Isn’t that right Lizzy?” Liz only nodded meekly. 

"Yeah...I heard about you." The stories of the Black Cat and Spider-Man made Michelle jealous at first, but he’d assured her there was nothing between them and she trusted him.

“Oh? So you know why I called you the main girl then?” Felicia leaned in and whispered intently into Michelle’s ear: “Because I'm the side girl. Well, one of many, many side girls, apparently. Peter Parker is a bastard , and not just ‘cause he put me here.”

Michelle’s heart skipped a beat. "No. You're lying..."

“He put you here too. Effectively, anyway. Did you know you're not the only girl he sees with the initials MJ? He likes redheads too…” Felicia shot the redhead, Mary Jane Watson, a spiteful look and gagged. “And blondes, even though I should be plenty blonde enough for him.” Seeing the doubt on Michelle’s face, she asked Liz and the redhead: “Am I lying?”

“No mommy. You're not lying.” They both said at the same time. 

Michelle felt dizzy. She stumbled backwards leaning against the cell door. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. If it was true, then she’d lost the rest of her life for a guy who cheated on her...a lot. She refused to accept it. A flash of anger crossed her face and, getting to her feet with as much stability as she could manage, she swung as Felicia, attempting an open handed slap…but she blocked it effortlessly then pinned Michelle to the ground. 

“Try that again when you’re big enough, girly.” Felicia taunted, holding Michelle to the ground by her wrists and coming in face to face. “Are you gonna behave?”

"Get off me, lying bitch!" Michelle shrieked. 

Felicia only shook her head and giggled cruelly. “No, no, no. That's being a bad girl. Bad girls get punished. Good girls get rewards... Maybe. If I feel like it.” She pressed Michelle against the ground harder. “Will you be a good girl? Or does mommy have to punish you?”

Michelle kept impotently thrashing for a few minutes until it was clear that she was achieving nothing. She gasped, exhausted. She’d been in prison for all of five minutes and already was being bullied by a much meaner girl...

“So Michelle, are you gonna be a good girl?” Felicia asked, tone dripping with sadism. Between gasps, Michelle weakly nodded and then Black Cat released her from her iron grip. “See, that wasn’t so hard…unlike Peter's dick. That was hard as fuck when I rode it.” Regrettably, Felicia wished she could have him again. She wasn’t gay. At least not willingly. She’d just learned to make do with what she had available in a world of only women. She knew she’d never feel the touch of a man again…but neither would Michelle. And that thought excited her. 

Felicia sat back down on the bottom bunk and giggled deviously at the sight of the wordless Michelle. “What's wrong Michelle? Cat got your tongue?”

"You're lying." Michelle said with less conviction than before. "Peter wouldn't do that."

Felicia rolled her emerald eyes. “You know, I thought that too. But then I remembered that he was fucking you, while he was fucking me. So that got me thinking, who else is he sleeping with? See I'm a resourceful girl and very jealous. I wondered why he would always see his old science partner. I mean stupid me thought she was just helping him with a project. I guess she was. Just not the way I thought.”

Michelle remembered Gwen Stacy. The young, blonde biology major who all the boys were obsessed with. She’d been silently relieved when Gwen transferred to a different school. The idea that Peter was cheating with her...that wrang truer than him cheating with Liz or Felicia…or whoever the fuck Mary Jane was.

“It broke my heart when I spied her sucking his cock.” The menace in Felicia’s tone only seemed to grow the more she talked about Peter. “How could he do that to me? I'm the best thing that ever happened to him! But it wasn't enough for the horny motherfucker. Apparently he just couldn't resist redheads. Not that I can blame him”

"Stop." Michelle said weakly. "I...I don't want to know any more." She felt like everything inside of her was crumbling. 

Felicia didn’t stop though. She loved every second of Michelle’s rapid process of hurt, betrayal, and horror. It was exactly what the catburglar had felt and she revelled in seeing Peter’s other flings go through it too. “You need to hear the truth Michelle. I know it hurts. Trust me. God do I know how much it hurts!” She looked at the redhead. “Mary Jane Watson. An acting major. Which of course means she's a slut. Typical drama queen. Do you know she actually used to let him fuck her in the ass? She’s a fucking whore.”

Mary Jane looked like she was fuming, but didn’t dare say a word in objection to her prison mommy. Meanwhile, Michelle looked at the floor wanting to cry. She felt like she was about to vomit. She wanted to curl up and die. She was going to spend the rest of her life in prison for a man who didn't even love her…

“I would have told you sooner, but spider boy decided he didn't like me anymore and sent me to this lesbian hell. It's really awful. I fucking hate it here. But I've been able to survive.” Felicia said. “Question is, can you survive here without me looking after you?” 

Goosebumps covered Michelle’s body as a bad feeling tightened in her gut. She’d seen Orange is the New Black and knew exactly what Felicia meant. But she wasn’t a lesbian. Sure she’d hypothetically imagined sex with a woman, but she knew for a fact she was straight. But she was so scared at the same time of how the other girls were far worse than the mean white haired slut who stole her boyfriend. "I...I don't know." She started to answer. "Wh...what's it like in here?"

Black Cat smiled, hoping she would ask just that question. “Close your eyes. I’ll describe it to you.” She waited for Michelle to oblige – which she did with a sigh. “The bars are so cold. The cell is so dark. All you can hear is breathing, moaning and sobbing all around you. The other girls are all so mean. They have super powers, or they’re blood thirsty killers. But the worst thing is that they’re all lesbians and they all want the new girl. They turn you out. They put things in your butt. They make you eat out their whole gang. They pimp you out for cigarettes. They dress you up like a dolly and put pretty makeup on you. You're working 10 hours every day in a hot vibranium mine where you're chained to ten other women. The tools are so heavy and the chains only make them heavier. That's what it's like here. And a girl like you? Oh, you'll be eaten alive here. Maybe literally. All kinds of freaks here. I don't know how I survived…”

Michelle shifted uncomfortably, visibly close to panic. 

“...But, I know that you won't be able to survive the same way. So, what is it Michelle? You want me to help you stay alive? I feel like us paramours need to stick together, y’know?” This was the same deal Felicia had sold to Liz and Mary Jane and, later, Gwen Stacy. 

Whether it was fear of incarcerated life or a broken spirit from learning the man she loved had betrayed her trust so many times, Michelle wasn’t certain. But weakly she asked: "...What will I have to do?"

Black Cat closed her eyes and let out a long sensual, feline-like purr. “All you gotta do is be my girl. I wanna see what Petey saw in you. I want you to eat my ass and suck on my titties that absolutely dwarf yours.”

Liz grabbed Michelle’s arm, pleading: “I-It’s easier this way…” She’d tried denying Felicia when she first arrived and…things didn’t go well.

The plea had the opposite of the intended effect on Michelle though – snapping her out of her subservient ideation for a moment. She looked at Felicia in sheer disgust. "So, I'd be, what...your slave?"

“In layman's terms, yes. But we usually use the term ‘bitch.’” Felicia replied, confidence in her tone conveying that she knew she’d win her new toy over eventually. 

Michelle grimaced at the term. "How is being owned by you better than being owned by others?"

“I mean, you can find out if you want…” Felicia suggested. “The other girls will trade you for fishsticks. You'll go around like the prison bicycle. Girls might fight you too. Fuck, they’d probably shank you for extra slop at the mess hall. Plus, everybody knows that HYDRA are nazis…”

"Nazis...you're not serious...?" Michelle stammered. 

Felicia knew how to scare her girls. “Mhm. Literal nazis from Germany. They say they split with Hitler but I say sometimes a spade is a spade.” 

Michelle squirmed as she considered the implications. Her chances of surviving an encounter with a Nazi gang as a black girl were...not great. "Okay." She sighed. "I guess...I guess you own me."

“Kiss me” Felicia commanded abruptly. 

Michelle then made the first big mistake of what not to do when you’re a prison bitch. Without thinking, she asked. "Why?"

“Because I want you to kiss me. I want to know why he kissed you more than he kissed me.” Felicia replied, tapping her sharp nails on the bed. 

Michelle stood and, with some awkwardness, moved to kiss her. Not sure where to put her hands, they sort of hung awkwardly beside her body. Still, she kissed the catburglar, trying to muster the same passion she always kissed Peter with. But her discomfort didn’t matter because Felicia fell into Michelle’s lips and hugged her passionately. Their tongues danced around the inside of Felica's mouth for a long uncomfortable period, seemingly unending. But Felicia did pull back, Michelle’s saliva still on her tongue. “Wow, you really are a good kisser. I wonder if you’d kiss my ass with the same enthusiasm”

Before Michelle had a moment to react, Black Cat tore her jumpsuit open, bearing a chest that made Michelle ever so slightly insecure, and tossed her attire to the floor. The thief’s pussy was bushy, and from the colour Michelle could tell that Felicia’s hair really was natural white. 

Felicia turned around and laid down on the bed, her plump pale ass hanging over the side, presented perfectly. “It won’t kiss itself…”

Michelle’s eyes went wide and she looked at Liz, silently pleading for advice. The response she received was one in favour of compliance. “It's easier if you just do what she says, Michelle.” Liz replied, her tone a little more callous than it had been previously. 

With no other choice, Michelle hesitantly dropped to her knees and began half-heartedly kissing Felicia’s pasty rear. 

“We both know you can put more effort into it than that. Kiss my crack like you kissed him.” Felicia chided with a tsk to her tone. The new girl would need a lot of practice but Felicia wasn’t shy about making her do this every day. “I've showered. It's perfectly clean.” She reassured. 

Michelle cringed, but obeyed, pressing further into it and using her tongue. She didn’t know what she was doing but it elicited a sensual moan out of her tormentor. Michelle decided that her previous strip-search wasn’t the most humiliating experience ever. This was. Nonetheless, she kept up the work. licking her unshaved crack for what felt like half an hour. 

Felicia, for her part, was loving every second of it. She wiggled her butt against her pet’s face and said: “Now kiss my cheeks, MJ2. That's your new name, by the way. I just decided.” 

Michelle pulled away for a moment. "MJ2?" She asked, perplexed, but carried out her order, kissing her cheeks.

“It's just easier to say. I'm not gonna call you both MJ.” Felicia knew Michelle had come before Mary Jane, so giving her a name that implied she came after was just a little more salt in a gaping wound. But she couldn’t be all insults. “You're doing a great job by the way”

The praise was...strangely compelling to Michelle. She couldn’t really explain why. 

“Such a good girl. Kissing mommy's ass so well.” Even when praising Felicia found a way to demean. The whole process was bizarre, humiliating and gross. Michelle just worked through it in eager anticipation of it being over. When she was done, Felicia climbed up to the top bed and beckoned Michelle to join.

Felicia pressed her still-naked body against Michelle as she squeezed her tightly. “I could have made you sleep on the floor, but I told you good girls get rewarded. ”

Michelle wanted to argue how much of a reward it really was, but was too exhausted. She was warm in the embrace of the awful gate gay who stole her boyfriend away from her. It didn’t  feel right, but it did feel safe. Despite the noise in the hall, she slowly managed to drift off to sleep, marking her first night in prison. 

————————————————————— 

The 14th of February, 2025 – In every universe Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man and in every universe it doesn't end well. In this case, it ended in a life sentence in the most dangerous women’s prison on the planet. Predictably, prison hadn't been easy for the blonde daughter of an NYPD chief. When she wasn’t getting her holes expanded by every female criminal Spider-Man locked up over the years, she was getting her spirit crushed by one of the women he’d cheated on her with. Case in point, Felicia had started making her wear a new outfit. Her jumpsuit had been torn up to make a lovely orange jacket. Pants? Oh rebound blonde sluts didn’t deserve those. Instead, Felicia had left Gwen in her white panties. The number of people looking to take her for a spin had gone up drastically ever since. 

As you may have noticed by the date, it was Valentine's Day in The Raft and it really wasn’t all that different than most days. Gwen’s day had started under her prison mommy’s butt (which was arguably better than the floor, where Mary Jane Watson had slept), followed by eating Felicia out and only then was she allowed to go brush her teeth. Breakfast was as unpleasant as ever but work had been a bit different – laundry duty. It was an incredibly important job in a prison full of so many inmates. 

Setting down a laundry basket full of jumpsuits, Gwen and Felicia were deep in conversation for a change. The topic? Their mutual ex. “...He was always quipping, to the point where I felt like my ears were going to fall off from him talking so much. Honestly, being your cellmate is so much more peaceful than our apartment.” 

Felicia was stunned, but was far too much of a femme fatale to show it. “You’re the first person to say that sharing a cell with me is more peaceful than… anything . But at least with me we’re too busy to talk.”

“Have you ever had to live with him? He never paid his half of the rent, or did the dishes, or cooked, or cleaned the apartment without having an emergency where he had to swing out. And I always ended up doing his laundry, which, one time he fought that sand person, and it took me three months and a broken washing machine to clean his suit.” Gwen, sleep deprived, genuinely wasn’t sure if what she was saying had even happened, but Felicia was genuinely amused in something other than making her miserable so she kept talking. 

Felicia smirked, always happy to hate on the man who threw her in prison. “How about that thing where he can’t keep his mouth shut in bed?” Technically it was on a rooftop but same difference. “I had to tell him to shut up.” 

Gwen Stacy giggled. “What you need to do is pretend you’re really kinky and just shove a gag down his throat. Learned that trick two months in. Well, I guess you probably wouldn’t have to pretend you’re into kinky stuff, but that’s the only way I could shut him up. “

“I might not be a fancy biology major like you, but I’m a clever girl too, Gwen. What do you think I did after telling him to shut up?” Felicia replied, fondly remembering the creative thing she’d shoved into his mouth. 

So far Felicia had made her bitch do most of the work. She knew first hand what the women of The Raft got up to and there was no way she was touching their clothes when a guard’s supervision didn’t necessitate it. 

“He also lasts like three minutes in bed, and I end up having to finish with my hands later on…Maybe he was better off as my ex-boyfriend.” For a moment Gwen’s eyes locked with Felicia’s, both women staring intently before Gwen averted her eyes as quickly as she could and went to load the washing machine with dirty jumpsuits. She wasn’t sure what it was that she felt towards Felicia, but it seemed an awful lot like attraction. Except it couldn’t be. This was simply Stockholm Syndrome she told herself. A psychological coping mechanism where- 

Her rationalising was cut short when Officer Renee approached and gave Gwen’s butt a firm smack.  “Focus more on working and less on your ex, lovebird.” The pervy guard chided while watching the way the girl’s cheeks shook before moving on. 

“Ow!” Gwen glared while rubbing her sore butt. 

Felicia looked amused though. She could see what Peter liked about her. Gwen’s ass was nowhere near as fine as hers of course…but it wasn’t bad. Naturally, that mental vague compliment was the cue to rip Gwen apart. “Easy there, girly, that looked like that hurt. Not as much as when Peter did it to me…but I understand you’re new to this.”

“Peter loved my ass too actually. He couldn’t keep his hands off it.” Gwen brattily fired back, still bent over as she shoved in the last of the load, butt perked out. The sight transfixed Felicia. The way Gwen’s panties clung on for dear life. How her buttcrack swallowed up the cheap cotton faster than a bitch resentfully ate out their mommy. Despite Gwen’s dedication to squats and cardio (it turned out prison was, in fact, a great place to get fit), the jiggling was unstoppable. The sight filled Felicia with an entirely unfair jealousy the longer she stared. 

Washing machine filled to the brim with clothes, Gwen began to stand back up…but was stopped when Felicia leaned in close and kept her bent over. Then she felt Felicia’s hand run along her panty clad ass, giving her butt a sharp squeeze. “Oh…um…ok” Gwen nervously gasped as she was left powerless to object to the horny cat burglar's advances. 

Felicia tauntingly pulled at the thin barrier standing between her and Gwen’s skin before letting it snap back into place. 

“The guard could be back any minute…” Gwen argued, unsure if she was trying to find an excuse to stop or concerned about their moment being interrupted. 

And then with all the romance that prison had to offer, Felicia leaned in close and whispered: “Then give me a quickie before that happens.” She knew at least one of the numerous security cameras would pick it up anyways, but she figured the guard would be too busy touching herself to alert anyone of the violation.

Gwen wasted no time before undressing her prison mommy, Felicia assisted by pulling her panties down her thighs and off one leg, letting them dangle off her right ankle. Felicia then situated herself on top of the washing machine and pulled Gwen between her legs, guiding her until her face was buried deep against her pussy. She spread her knees enough to allow Gwen extra space, and when she did, Gwen got straight to work. 

“Mm, you look so good between my legs, Stace.” Felicia moaned. 

Gwen Stacy peered up at Felicia as her tongue made quick work of the platinum blonde thief’s clit, licking where she knew it made her lose her composure within seconds. Felicia groaned when she felt her bitch’s tongue lap away at her. And before either of them knew it, her orgasm crept up on her. Her eyes screwed shut, hands flew up to grasp Gwen’s forearms, and her knees pressed hard against her hips as she chased that high as long as possible.

Told to stop, Gwen backed up slightly and obediently looked at her mommy for the next instruction. She should have just stayed quiet but she had to ask, “So how did I do?”

“You’re not MJ1 but I suppose you weren’t terrible.” Felicia cruelly replied, knowing Gwen was actually pretty good but not wanting to say that. There was no fun to be found in complementing her bitches. 

Gwen looked offended at the fact that she was being compared to Mary Jane. “Are you fucking serious? You don’t want her, you should be wanting me, trust me from the guys Mary’s been with I’m much better. Like look at these.” She grabbed her breasts and shook them for Felica, seeming to lose sight of the fact that she was being forced to have sex with Felicia and had begun getting competitive with her former friend. “You wouldn’t even be able to see her tits in this outfit. So don’t force me onto her level.”

The thief hadn’t expected Gwen to grab her breasts and begin shaking them for her, but ok. Competitive to the point of stupidity. Noted. She knew that could be very helpful. “I don’t know…I just can’t imagine how you could be better than her” she feigned deliberation. 

Gwen walked over to the row of washing machines, sitting right in front of Felicia with her legs crossed. “You’re familiar with her tits right? Feel mine.” She felt like the best way she could get through this was by taking charge. She grabbed Felicia's hands and brought them to her breasts. “You know I’ve always been better looking.”

Felicia playfully struck Gwen’s breasts, enjoying the sight of them shaking. That’s when her bitch said: “I bet I could last way longer than you did.” It was an attempt to appeal to the thief’s own competitive nature in hopes that she may let her climax. Plus she secretly wanted to try to have consensual sex with someone that wasn’t Peter for once. She was tired of finishing herself off. She was spending Valentine’s Day in a penitentiary. Nothing was sadder than that. She didn’t see herself as bisexual, but if she was going to be in prison for a while she didn’t want it to be lonely. She didn't want to spend today reminiscing over the ex who cheated on her with four other women. 

As Felicia’s hand went down the front of Gwen’s panties, the girl moaned instantly. She hadn’t had someone else touch her in a year, plus she wasn’t trying to put on a poker face to impress Felicia. She pushed herself back onto the thief, making her stop. “It’s been a few months and I’m really, really, really horny babe.” She whispered quietly into her ear, getting more quiet with each ‘really’ she said. Then she moved in to kiss Black Cat as she played with her nipples.

“Excuses excuses” Felicia purred. “I’m simply better at this than you” She said while bringing herself  closer to Gwen’s body. 

“Hey! Don’t act like they aren’t valid excuses, give me another year in here and I guarantee I’d be so much better.” Gwen quickly kissed her again before she looked down at the nipple she’d been playing with and then looked back up at Felica. “May I?” she asked, wanting to know if she could suck on it. Receiving a look that said ‘do you really need to ask’ Gwen went in hesitation, sucking on Felicia's tits with a hunger. They felt almost too perfect in shape and size to the point where she was very nearly jealous. She hated that Peter had cheated on her…but she couldn’t help but see why the thief was so appealing. 

Gwen blushed as she continued to suck on her tits. Every time she moaned she bit down. She imagined it hurt Felicia, but she couldn’t help it. Juices leaked out of her wet pussy as she felt herself about to cum. “Black Cat!” She exclaimed in a shaky voice. 

Just as Gwen was about to cum, Felicia withdrew her hand. Leaving poor Gwen frustrated. “Looks like I’m the one to have lasted longer” she gloated. 

“I wouldn’t say it was fair though. I was just a little excited, it’s my first consenting girl on girl experience, that’s all. How about you try spending a week without sex and see how long you last.” Gwen replied, rubbing her thighs together in a futile attempt to spark enough friction to get off. Alas, she had no such luck.

————————————————————— 

The 14th of February, 2023 – A criminal sat in a Midtown North Precinct holding cell – Scorpia. Her suit had, of course, been confiscated and she now sat on the bed of her cell dressed in baggy orange scrubs. Caught for several paid-killings and having escaped her last facility, she was going back to prison and there was absolutely no way out of it. The most she could do was sit in her cell and wait to be transferred to the women’s wing at Ryker’s or The Raft, passing the time until then by staring for hours without end at the tally-marked walls. Actually that wasn’t true. There was one other thing she could do to pass the time…

Urgently she listened close for the sound of a possible approaching guard that may disrupt her. Hearing none, she nodded. There was a camera in her cell which meant everything she was about to do would be on full display for the control room, but she didn’t care too much about that. She just wanted to be sure no one would stop her. 

Then she acted on impulse from some animalistic source, as though possessed. She shoved her pants down so it bunched and snagged around her knees and leaned back against the wall of her cell. Her underwear she kept on. She put a hand over her crotch. Even touching the outside made her sore. She pressed up. The ache got sharper. And then she moved her middle finger in until she was pressing against her clit, and her heart began to race. She clenched her toned thighs a little, and her excitement only grew further. She felt shivery and taut. She rubbed side to side, dragging her underwear rough against her delicate skin. Her breath caught on every little hint of pleasure.

Despite there being no mirror in the cell, Scorpia caught a clear view of her thighs, her pussy in the reflection of the shiny metal toilet. The sight made her all the more excited. It took the edge off the urgency she felt to escape. Her rage to avoid going back to prison. Every little touch felt like a tiny escape of its own. 

Scorpia’s jail-provided underwear were soaked. She pulled them aside again to slip a finger inside herself. It wasn’t enough. She wanted something to penetrate herself with. Crazed, she looked around the cell: toilet paper, a book, a pillow. None of that would work. She shoved two more fingers in, rough and sudden, so her pussy burned. She leaned into the feeling, clenching hard, dragging her other fingers faster and faster across her clit.

“Hi!” A voice suddenly called from outside her barred window, startling the captured convict off her bed with a scream in a rather humiliating moment for the tough hitwoman. 

Coming into view from his place hanging upside down, the red and blue costume of the pesky superhero come to ruin her moment was unmistakable. “I scare ya?” Spider-Man asked. 

“Go to hell!” Scorpia spat, climbing back on to her bed and approaching the bars as much as she could.

Spider-Man peered at the locked up criminal, a smile heard in his tone as he asked: “Hey, where’s your silly suit, Scorpia? ‘Silly suit Scorpia.’ Try saying that five times fast!”

Any sexual excitement Scorpia had possessed was completely gone by now, having vanished just as quickly as the obnoxious Web-Head had shown up and killed the moment. Instead of a burning desire to cum, she now felt a burning fury to see the hero flattened like the arachnid he was. “You know what you can try saying that five times fast, Spider-Jerk.”

“What’s she saying?” A voice called from the rooftop above, belonging to none other than Felicia Hardy. She was dressed in her true Black Cat attire as her platinum white hair blew in the intense winds. 

Peter looked up at Cat. “We’re just making small talk right now. Y’know talking tongue twisters and stuff.”

Scorpia scoffed and turned her back to the window, unable to even stand to look at the unwanted visitor. “Is that cat bitch with you?” She asked bitterly. 

“Yep.” Peter stated plainly. 

Scorpia crossed her arms in a pout. “Tell her she’s a dead woman when I get outta here.” She threatened as she imagined the violent, unique ways in which she’d go through Felicia’s nine lives. 

“What’s she saying now?” Black Cat asked once more from above, enjoying taunting the captive criminal. This was part of the fun of being with Spider-Man. It was all fun and games when it was other people going to prison. But she’d eventually learn what being on the receiving end of things was like…

“She says no woman with a chest like yours should be able to move as fast as you do!” Spider-Man replied back to his catburglar partner. 

Felicia’s laugh could be heard. Crossing her legs and hanging over the rooftop, she was quite flattered (even if she already knew for a fact her tits were stunning). “Tell her they act as ballast!”

“I will!” Peter replied, turning back to look at Scorpia. “Listen, Elaine, can you just tell us who hired you?”

Scorpia wasn’t about to crack that easily. Especially not to possibly the most annoying superhero she’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. “I’m not telling you jack shit.” She replied…only to feel something sticky bounce against the back of her head. “Hey!” She exclaimed angrily. 

“Either you’re gonna tell me who hired you or I’m gonna hang outside your window all night hitting you with web-balls, lady. And if that’s not annoying enough, I’ll have Black Cat sing Memories from Cats.” Peter said, firing another at Scorpia for good measure. 

Scorpia, a hardened murderess of several people, genuinely looked confused. “What the fuck kind of plan is that?” 

“Hit it, Cat!” Spidey shouted. 

Right on cue Felicia began, singing with all the beauty of a starved alleycat calling out into the middle of the night: “Meeemories! All alone on the pavement! I remember a time I knew what happiness was…” It was horribly off in every way imaginable. Singing was not one of her talents…at all. Scorpia wanted to rip her own ears off having to hear the woman sing. She preferred prison to this shit. 

“Alright! Alright! Just tell her to shut the fuck up!” Scorpia miserably exclaimed. 

-

“Thanks! Enjoy The Raft! We’ll try to send you a bar of soap.” Spidey bid ado to a pouting Scorpia – having gotten all the information he needed – as he swung back up to the rooftop where Felicia was waiting. The soon-to-be incarcerated supervillain had shared some very interesting information…

Landing on all fours to see Black Cat laying on her stomach with a knowing smirk on her face as she held in her right hand a truly absurdly large diamond, Peter asked: “So just here to help you said?” 

“Well how else is a girl supposed to get your attention?” Felicia purred, looking unfazed by the fact that her little con was up. 

Spider-Man sighed. These games were common with her. And by common it was practically a weekly occurrence. Normal couples had dates, but they had…whatever this was. “I don’t know. But I feel like it doesn’t usually involve hiring one of my villains so you can steal a diamond while I'm preoccupied. Where are you even going to fence that?” 

“So concerned about my financial future! I’m touched.” Felicia laughed. 

Spider-Man shot a web to grab the diamond but Felicia pulled it out of grasp just in time. “Getting rusty there, Parker.” She taunted as she playfully began to flee, jumping to the next rooftop over with remarkable agility. 

“That diamond isn’t even worth anything except historically! It’s cubic zirconia!” Peter began but then there was a loud THUD as Felicia hit an air conditioner. Nervously he swung by her side as she staggered. 

Looking dizzy, Felicia smiled up at the hero. “Oh, Spider. How long have we been doing this? There’s this dance across the rooftops of New York again and again…” She said as she reached into her bag and began looking for something. “...Sometimes I steal just to have you chase me. And sometimes I think you do this just because you like getting a look at my ass while I run. If only one of us would rise to the challenge…”

“What are-” Peter started to ask but stopped as Felicia got down on her knees in front of him. 

Time seemed to stop on that rooftop for a moment as they looked at each other in disbelief, hearts racing. “So here it is. Will you marry me?” Felicia asked, producing from her bag a ring that shimmered under the moonlight. 

“Cat I…” Words failed Peter Parker as his mind raced to determine what even to say. He didn’t even know what the thought process to begin to say something was…and then he felt a sharp gash against his leg and Felicia went running. “What? Why?!” He gasped, 

“It takes a lot of distraction to overcome that Spidey-Sense of yours!” Black Cat replied, feeling high on her own victory as Spider-Man tended to his bleeding thigh. She was almost over the next ledge when she was hit by a web, pinning her left hand to the wall of the fire escape. 

Spidey stood up. “This was fun…in an emotionally painful way, but I should really be going now. City never sleeps and all.”

“Of course. You’ve got to get back to Michelle. I’d hate for her to be lonely tonight…” Felicia said sarcastically as she looked at the webbing which kept her in place. 

Peter awkwardly nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “Felicia…you know I…”

“Oh no it’s fine. Go.” She said with a roll of her emerald eyes. It took no further convincing Peter before he went swinging off into the night. “She must suck your dick like a pro if you’re so eager to abandon me for her.” She said to herself as she cut her webbed hand free and then picked up the diamond she’d gone to such extensive lengths to obtain. Shrugging, she tossed the precious mineral aside and chuckled softly to herself. 

————————————————————— 

The 14th of February, 2025 – despite frequent sexual assault, prison life was undescribably repetitive. That Valentine’s Day had been much like any other day, with Peter’s bitter harem returning to their cell from the jobs they worked around the prison. Felicia had been occupied at the time, so it was a relatively calm moment; with Gwen Stacy, arse still sore from being spanked in the laundry room, laying on her stomach reading a book. Beside her, Liz Allan was taking a much deserved nap on the floor. 

Michelle Jones stretched out a bit in her bottom bunk, exhausted after a quarry stint spent chained to each girl's least favorite cellmate. Mary Jane Watson, of course, sat taller in her own bunk, sighing as she examined the filth on her bare soles.

Dressed in the makeshift orange bikini that served as her uniform, Michelle was trying to follow Liz’s lead and grab a brief nap after her day's labour in the mines, and before she was possibly pimped out by her violent, repressive prison mommy, the Black Cat. She rarely got any restful sleep in this place, and now was no exception. What was currently bothering her, among many other things, was the rough material of her bottoms riding up her ass. It seemed so small a thing but it was deeply annoying enough that she ventured to demean herself by trying to pick it out as subtly as she could in the completely unprivate cell. 

Mary Jane would hear the snap of Michelle's bikini bottom, looking down at the girl with some irritation. "What, can't go 30 minutes without jacking off?" She asked.

“Yeah you know me, a genuine masturbation addict…” Michelle remarked dryly, rolling her eyes at Mary Jane. They both knew that Felicia strictly forbade any self-pleasure. Which was why Michelle hadn’t touched herself in two years. 

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, even with the restrictions, her cellmates were all sluts.

But, since the sarcastic response seemed to shut her up, Michelle shut her eyes and breathed in deep, sick and tired of having to hear Mary Jane’s voice day after day.  “And why would you care if I was? What, were you going to tell Felicia?”

Mary Jane's eyes widened in a bit of rage. "Bet you'd like that, huh, you little slut..." She hopped down to the floor, looming over her cellmate with menace.

Looking up at her dully, Michelle briefly thought that maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. But then she remembered just how annoying Mary Jane was and persisted. “You’re one to call me a slut. You slept with half of the campus.” She didn’t believe in slut-shaming but it was ironic that Mary Jane of all people was calling her one.

Mary Jane hardly held back now. Enraged, she flung herself into Michelle's bed, wrestling with her. "How... DARE YOU... cheating bitch!!"

“Cheating?! I was with him first!” Michelle argued while she tried, and failed, to struggle against the jealous redhead atop her.

Mary Jane, soon enough, had the girl pinned down beneath her. Grabbing a bedsheet, the redhead got inventive... using it to tie Michelle's hands behind her.

”What the fuck?! Have you lost your mind?!” Michelle nervously exclaimed, attempting to kick her attacker off while her hands were being tied. Felicia had done a lot to her (more than she ever wanted to remember), but Mary Jane was doing it too now? 

"Not at all!" Mary Jane replied fiercely. She had her pinned down now, and was weighing her options on how to punish her.

Michelle continued to thrash against her cellmate, putting up far more of a fight than she usually did against people who assaulted her. But it was no use. She breathed in deep, realising it was hopeless. “Please…get off of me” she said pathetically.

Mary Jane grinned mischievously. "Only if you show me how sorry you are..."

Michelle didn’t like the sound of that at all, but prison had taught her that, when fighting didn’t work, you did whatever you could to survive. She grit her teeth. “Fine…”

The redhead chuckled. "My feet are awfully dirty... could use a bit of a clean..."

“What the f…” Michelle forced herself to stop. A part of her knew she should just agree, do it, and then brush her teeth five times. But she simply altered her exclamation. “…why can’t you wash them in the sink?”

In response, Mary Jane rolled her eyes, grabbing the girl by the hair a bit roughly to make a point. “OW! Ow! Ok. I-I’ll…clean your feet…” Michelle‘s tongue had seen a lot of action with different women’s body parts, but even this was a new one.

Mary Jane nodded. "Thank you for the kind offer." She mockingly replied. She forced Michelle, hands still bound, to kneel on the ground, examining her nails as she stretched a foot out for her.

Michelle shut her eyes and tried to imagine something, anything, else as she hesitantly stuck her tongue out and let the tip of it touch the sole of Mary Jane’s foot. The taste of dirt, though, immediately made her recoil. She was no stranger to bad tastes, prison food and the asses of convicts fresh from the mines were hardly pleasant, but the imagery of what she was licking made her stomach churn. 

But while Michelle suffered, Mary Jane could hardly have cared less. The redhead leaned back and relaxed, oddly at ease despite the odd sensation of a tongue against her foot. The moody inmate licked up the arch of Mary Jane’s foot, choking and gagging all the way. She hoped one of her cellmates would come and help but she knew that would never happen. Eventually, Mary Jane showed some mercy. Some... "Alright, other foot." She ordered, deadpan.

Michelle let Mary Jane slip her toes in her mouth. That’s when the cell door behind them opened, and in came Black Cat. “Whatcha doing, tiger?” She asked. 

Mary Jane looked terrified. "I... Michelle just wanted to help clean up a bit..."

Felicia boredly looked at her sharp nails and smirked, leaning against the wall. “Mhm. And I’m a nun.”

Mary Jane knew that she was busted. "I... I..."

“I had no idea you had a foot fetish. I thought I was the kinky one.” Felicia’s emerald eyes bore down on Mary Jane like daggers, wordlessly expressing with a simple glance the power she had over the woman.

"I... swear..." She looked like she was about to have a panic attack as her face blushed nearly as red as her hair. 

”What? I don’t kink shame.” Felicia wasn’t lying about that at least. ”Why don’t I help you explore your interests?” She asked as she ripped at Mary Jane by the hair and pulled her to the floor.

Mary Jane teared up, helpless as she fell to the ground. "H-how?" She stammered. 

Felicia placed her right foot on Mary Jane’s pretty freckled face, smiling down at her as she did. “You always act so tough. So dominant with my bitches. But y’know what MJ? You’re nothing but mommy’s submissive little whore. I mean for fucks sake, I’m going to tell you to lick my foot, and you’ll start lapping the dirt off because you’re my bitch.” Sure enough, with some trepidation, Mary Jane nodded, knowing it was true. ”Peter only ever fucked you because of your tits, MJ. That and because you were willing to let him put it up your ass.” The cat burglar continued to taunt as she felt Mary Jane start. “He never loved you.”

Mary Jane’s tears began to fall harder as her tongue licked the grime off the platinum blonde's foot. Meanwhile Felicia tore open her own jumpsuit and stuck her hand down it, beginning to finger herself without any shame. Her fingers sloshed in and out of her pussy, rubbing against her clit in violent swirls of her touch. “That’s right. Lick, bitch.” She moaned.

Mary Jane did just that, her cellmates admittedly getting a kick out of seeing the redhead put in her place.

Nothing put a smile on Felicia’s face like tormenting the women she hated most. She may have never been able to get her revenge against Spider-Man for putting her here, but his girlfriends weren’t the worst consolation. She let Mary Jane continue the task for a while before pulling her foot back and then grabbing the redhead by the throat.

Mary Jane sputtered, still gagging from the grime on her tongue as the blonde thief wrapped her hand around her neck. Everyone knew the Black Cat was a little unhinged, but she wasn’t a murderer. Mary Jane was in no real danger, even though it certainly felt like it. 

“Say sorry and I’ll let you go.” Felicia said.

Mary Jane struggled to speak. "S-Sorry"

Felicia nodded. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked while letting her go. Mary Jane nodded slowly, in response, clearly terrified of being punished further.

“Now say sorry to Michelle.” Felicia obviously didn’t care about Michelle’s feelings, but she did like how Mary Jane would resent Michelle a little more for having to do this. Michelle for her part sat up and looked at Mary Jane expectantly.

"I-I'm sorry.." Mary Jane was still sobbing a bit as she apologised to Michelle, but even that couldn’t mask the bitterness she felt towards the woman. This was Michelle’s fault. 

Michelle looked pretty pleased by her misery. It wasn’t often that she got to see her abusers tormented. “Apology accept.” She said with a taunting smirk.

Mary Jane next turned to Black Cat, as if to see if she was in the clear. Felicia had turned her attention to smoking a cigarette she produced from a stash she had hidden under the bed. Her mind on something that probably related to finding some new way of making her bitches miserable. It seemed Mary Jane could breathe and so she sat in silence on the floor, bare feet shifting on the ground as she calmed her nerves and tried to suppress her tears. 

Taking a slow drag, Black Cat’s eyes still lingered uncomfortably on Mary Jane. Nothing was worse than when she was silent. The moment stretched on and on, and then she pulled the cigarette from her mouth and said in a casual tone: “Almost forgot to say, Happy Valentine’s Day, MJ1.” Having Mary Jane and Michelle Jones be MJ1 and MJ2 respectively was yet another way of demeaning them.

Mary Jane's eyes widened. "I... thank you..." She didn’t know what to say but she already was distrusting of this. 

”I got you a gift…” Felicia was being painfully vague. “Actually it was Liz’s idea.”

Mary Jane was stunned. This could only mean one thing…

”A romantic date with six lovely ladies you know!” Felicia had sold each of the girls out to different supervillains before, but the max at a single time was two.

"SIX?!" Mary Jane hardly hid her disgust, though she covered her mouth in fear as soon as she remembered her situation.

Felicia loved how disgusted Mary Jane looked. “Yep. They’re paying me a lot for you. Guess love is in the air today.” As tears once more began to streak down Mary Jane’s face, a sense of doom and misery at her lot in life setting in, Felicia furrowed her brow, her entire demeanour becoming more threatening as she took a single step closer to Mary Jane. “Is there a problem?”

"No..." Mary Jane managed between sobs.

“Good. Now get the fuck up. They’re waiting for you in the rec room.” Felicia said as she ripped open an excited looking Gwen Stacy’s jumpsuit and ran a finger along the woman’s right nipple. Gwen giggled a bit, purely submissive to the Black Cat and relishing in Mary Jane's torment. The redhead sulked out, as if marked for death.

-

She dreaded the entire walk to the rec room. Every step she took seemed like it would be her last. But it was nothing compared to the abject fear she felt as she entered the room itself. Inside the six of them were gathered, lounged against the chair and couch, or leaned against the wall. First and foremost was Olivia Octavious standing in the corner, bearing a weird sort of ‘sexy science teacher’ vibe that masked the fact that she was a terrorist who tried to eliminate the population of New York with a genetically engineered virus. On the couch was her cellmate Shriek, a notorious serial killer, with her arm around Carla Connors, a researcher whose accidental scientific mutation with lizard DNA resulted in a condition which could only be suppressed by the collar around her throat. Beside them sat Francine Frye, better known by her criminal name Electro. Sprawled out on a chair was Elaine Coll, Scorpia, who unshyly was passing the time by fingering herself im front of everyone. And, emerging silently from the gym was Anastasia Kravinoff, the most skilled hunter on the planet. Mary Jane instantly recognised each of them as foes of Spider-Man. 

The terrified redhead took the scene in, slowly presenting herself to the six inmates. "I'm here by Black Cat's request?" She asked timidly. 

Olivia was the first to approach, smirking at the nervous bitch in front of her. “Oh we know…”

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Scorpia added, springing off the chair and looking the redhead over. 

Francine, with her arm around Carla, grinned menacingly while Shriek stared dead-eyed at the girlfriend of the man responsible for her incarceration. 

Anastasia was the first to unzip her jumpsuit, allowing the cheap orange material to fall away and expose her large tits and incredibly toned body, traditional Russian prison tattoos adorning her glistening skin.

“Strip.” Olivia coldly commanded as she adjusted her round glasses. 

MJ nodded, shaking. She slowly removed her skimpy outfit, presenting herself cautiously to her "customers"

They each eyed her hungrily, staring down every bit of her body as more and more became visible. Scorpia let out a whistle. While Francine laughed and said: “Look at those titties!” Carla shyly bit her lip, feeling turned on yet slightly embarrassed to be taking part in this. But that embarrassment wasn’t shared by any of the other gathered criminals.

“Don’t be shy” Anastasia mocked. 

“I should really pay to use you more.” Olivia remarked, well acquainted with MJ’s body but more partial to Michelle’s.

Mary Jane simply had to go along with it, body swaying a bit as she waited to see how she'd be used and abused.

“Well girls, what shall we do with her first?” Olivia asked, turning to face each of her horny cohorts as they now had Mary Jane cornered. 

Anastasia grabbed MJ by the shoulder and shoved her face-first to the ground with ease. She basically hadn’t stopped hitting the gym since arriving in prison. “I think we should let her decide.”

Scorpia playfully joined in, groping at Mary Jane's tits. "Want a go with me?" She teased. Mary Jane looked tormented. 

Anastasia lifted MJ’s head by grabbing her long red as hard as she could and pulling. “You’ll get a turn with everyone. We have you for the rest of the day…”

“Yeah well I wanna go first!” Francine asserted, shoving Scorpia jealousy.

“Have patience, Francine.” Olivia chided Francine like she was a child, looking at the electric-based criminal with a demeaning glare that truly expressed just how inferior she saw her as. 

While Francine pouted, Shriek smacked MJ’s ass as hard as she could. 

Carla Connors stood by as Olivia lifted Mary Jane up just enough for her face to be level with her crotch. MJ was then forced to watch as the mad scientist peeled off her jumpsuit and then dropped her panties to the floor. With Oliva naked, Mary Jane was met with a face-full of bush.

“Lick.” Olivia ordered. 

MJ nodded softly. Olivia clearly knew how to make things run. Her tongue soon combed through the woman's pubic hair, eventually beginning to lap away at her wet pussy.

Francine’s hand drifted along the front of Scorpia’s jumpsuit, settling against her still-clothed crotch. 

With Mary Jane on her knees, Carla undressed and spread her legs until she was straddling the redhead’s back. She knew that what they were doing was wrong, that Mary Jane didn’t deserve this, but revenge was all too tempting and her body yearned for the touch of another. Her conscience fell out of mind as she began swaying her hips back and forth against Mary Jane’s body. 

Anastasia leaned in and kissed MJ on the cheek, running her tongue against it in a disgusting show of power. 

MJ was overwhelmed. Six women at every crevice of her body... she tried to focus. Her tongue flicked away wildly at Olivia, her body tense as she anticipated what would come next.

Olivia rocked her hips against Mary Jane’s mouth, practically writhing with every twist of the woman’s tongue. It hadn’t been that long since someone had eaten her out – a couple hours at most – but her moans made it sound like she hadn’t had sex in years. 

Francine had turned to helping Scorpia out of her clothes and Carla was now gasping as her pussy rubbed against MJ’s back, juices pooling all along her skin. 

Scorpia, now undressed, smacked MJ on the ass, roughly. The girl cried out, but didn't dare retract from Olivia, who seemed captivated. Pressing her body against her, Olivia’s hand slid up Mary Jane’s stomach, stopping just short of her breasts before tracing circles around her mound. A shiver ran through MJ at her touch, a mixture of fear and desire.

"You're wet for me." Shriek remarked seductively, her fingers rubbing up MJ to find her aroused clit. "You like being fucked by a villainess?"

MJ moaned, a mix of protest and arousal in her voice as her fellow convict fingered her. She'd receive another smack from Scorpia as she continued eating out Olivia, her nipples like bullets at her touch.

It was with a surprisingly elegant loud exhale that Olivia came, spraying the captive Mary Jane’s face with her cum. The girl’s nose was buried in wet pubes, but not for long as Carla absentmindedly grabbed her by her hair and pulled up, looking for something, anything, to grip as she came too. 

MJ groaned as she was suddenly covered in cum on two ends. She wasn't quite sure how exactly both women had came, and could hardly figure it out as yet another rough smack greeted her buttocks.

Francine Frye pressed her lips against Scorpia’s, attempting to shove her tongue down the black-haired beauty’s mouth as she continued spanking Mary Jane. It certainly was an interesting time to make out. Scorpia grinned, hardly complaining about the attention. A mortified MJ looked back for a moment, confused at the whole situation.

But her attention was pulled back to looking ahead as Olivia spun around and spread her legs wide, presenting her ass right in front of Mary Jane. Before MJ could even fully register it, Anastasia shoved her between the scientist’s cheeks.

Shriek continued to madly finger her victim, wet up to her knuckles. A sadistic smile on her face the whole time. She was briefly pushed out of the way as Francine got more into the taste of Scorpia’s saliva. 

Mary Jane slowly got to licking away between Olivia's cheeks. It was her first time ever, and it was... far from ideal, though she was at least clean from the shower. All the while, she felt pleasure build between her legs as she was fingered, while Scorpia giggled wildly as she made out with Francine. The two had become something of a makeshift couple.

And then two of Anastasia’s fingers found MJ’s right nipple and she not-so-softly pinched it. “I hope being Spider-Man’s girlfriend was worth it.” The huntress commented as MJ cried out in agony, muffled by Olivia's ass.

Francine grabbed ahold of Mary Jane’s arm and she forced the woman to place her hand between her thighs. Her expectation was clear. MJ's fingers slowly worked their magic, as Scorpia laid another harsh blow on her rear.

Olivia bent over farther, lost in the feeling of the redhead’s tongue against her butt. It was impressive that no guards seemed to hear what was happening. Or, more probably, they did and just didn’t care. MJ was barely coherent at this point, both licking and fingering relentlessly. She prayed nobody outside the prison would hear of this.

Abruptly, Olivia got off Mary Jane’s face and stepped back as Shriek switched sides and rested her forehead against MJ’s. Seeing tears falling, the serial killer mocked: “Shush. You have no idea how much worse this could be for you. You’re lucky that Felicia said we couldn’t do any permanent damage because I have a shiv that would love to taste your flesh…”

That only made MJ begin to sob harder. But she stopped when Anastasia shouted: ”Stop crying!” Her thick Russian accent made her aggression seem all the more intimidating.

Shriek smiled, although she admittedly preferred seeing her cry. She liked it when they cried. Cupping MJ’s face in her hand, fingers pressing against her freckled cheeks, Shriek said: “I want you to repeat after me. ‘I am a redhead whore who will die in prison.’”

"I-I'm a redhead whore who will die in prison..." Mary Jane whimpered, clearly thinking Shriek meant in the near term.

Shriek continued; ”’…and I’m lucky that you let me be fucked by you.’”

"And.. and I'm lucky that you let me be fucked by you.." Mary Jane sounded almost hysterical.

Shriek looked outright demonic as she laughed at her abject misery. “Good girl! Now look into my eyes…”

And as MJ did just that, tears drying on her cheeks, she suddenly felt one of Olivia’s tentacles ram its way up her ass. She screamed, obviously in both shock and agony, but Scorpia pinned her in place. While Anastasia and Shriek laughed, Francine continued riding MJ’s fingertips, and Carla ignored the pain she was subjecting Mary Jane to.

The next hour was all a bit of a blur for the poor redheaded acting major, a dizzying sequence of being drowned in pussy as each of the Sinister Six made their rounds with her. At a point she lost track of who she was eating out. Her nipples had been twisted, her arse spanked red and penetrated wide open, her sex played with and fingered without being allowed to cum once, and all she could taste were the juices and asses of each of her assailants. Drenched in spray, humped, and punished mercilessly, nothing in her incarcerated life came close to the level of Valentine’s violation she felt.

————————————————————— 

The 14th of February, 2026 – They say snitches get stitches but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth for Liz Allan. Out of everyone in the cell, she was the closest to being Felicia’s actual girlfriend. Sure she got sold out, spanked, and forced into eating her prison mommy out just like everyone else, but none of it ever was as…vindictive…as the things Mary Jane or Gwen Stacy faced. Liz was allowed to rest while Black Cat was being fanned by Gwen while Mary Jane rubbed her feet and Michelle Jones rubbed her back. This wasn’t because Felicia liked Liz any more than the others – she hated them all for different reasons –  but the thief couldn’t have her bitches uniting, they needed to hate each other for their dynamic to work, so she rewarded whoever kissed her ass the most. 

That was why Valentine’s Day found Liz on the top bunk with Felicia making out with her. There was nothing romantic about the holiday in prison, no candy hearts or roses were in sight when they were in the middle of the Atlantic afterall, but Felicia was being weirdly gentler than usual…to Liz. Gwen Stacy was currently off being anally penetrated by a mechanical tentacle. 

Liz tried not to act shaken by everything that went down in prison, even if it affected her quite deeply. But what bugged her the most, even more than the forced pussy eating, was the loneliness.

So with Felicia being rather gentle at the moment, Liz actually found herself enjoying the encounter. It felt nice to be close to someone on Valentine's Day again, so she kissed her mommy with much more passion than usual.

With a cacophony of moans all down the cellblock, which wasn’t unusual for The Raft (but it did seem a lot more present today), the sound of their kiss almost seemed lost as the bed in the next cell over rapidly creaked like there was an earthquake. Felicia, annoyed, broke their kiss with a sigh and a roll of her emerald eyes. 

Liz immediately grew concerned as Felicia pulled away, believing it to be the result of something she'd done. "Everything okay?"

“There’s just something I can’t get out of my head…” Felicia started, pausing for a moment to let Liz worry about what she was about to say. “...how did Spidey ever think you were a good kisser?”

Liz's face immediately fell, realizing she was disappointing the closest thing she had to a partner in prison, and growing very nervous. "W-well... I don't know that he ever... said I was." She'd just assumed. He always seemed to like their makeout sessions. "B-but I can do better. I... I want to do... better..."

“You better. You’re making me bored and you know I always find a way to deal with boredom…” Felicia smirked and then tapped herself on the lips to indicate for Liz to try again. 

Liz's lips twisted into a concerned frown, but she then put those lips to work, trying to put all those pleasant feelings towards Felicia into the kiss. She decided to be a little confident, reaching around and placing her hand on the back of Felicia's head, sinking her fingers into that platinum blonde hair.

Although surprised, Felicia didn’t seem to mind. In fact she even seemed to enjoy it as she gave a subtle gasp and then stuck her tongue in Liz’s mouth. It was nice…or at least Liz didn’t taste of cigarettes. The thief’s hands seemed to instinctively grasp Liz’s sides and pulled her in closer. 

The corners of Liz's lips formed into a faint smile, enjoying the closeness as she moved both hands to Felicia's lower back, creeping down in the hopes she'd be allowed to caress her butt.

Felicia certainly didn’t object as her hands fell to Liz’s hips and they struggled in a tight game of oral dominance. One which she obviously won. 

Liz technically let her win, though even if she had, she still would've lost. She then finally stuck her hands down into Felicia's panties, giving her generous ass a squeeze. It felt soft. Soft felt good in prison.

Felicia detested Liz but prison was a rough place. The Raft was the closest thing to her personal Hell. To feel the warmth of someone else’s body against her own, to have someone to kiss on Valentine’s even if forced, felt like a small consolation. Plus it didn’t hurt that she knew for a fact that Liz was straight and was absolutely terrified of displeasing her. Nothing was sweeter than the revenge of making Spidey’s girlfriends her bitches except the fantasy she had of what she’d do to her ex if she managed to break out. 

With a purr-like moan a shiver shot down her spine as her rear was squeezed, enjoying for a moment Liz’s forwardness. A forwardness she returned as she forced herself on top of Liz as she laid her down against the mattress. 

Liz kept her eyes closed as she was forced down, remembering times she'd shared with Peter on the outside. She continued to make out with her mommy to her heart's content, happy to know she was happy. Maybe this would get her some more special privileges.

Felicia’s right hand trailed between their bodies, slipping down the front of Liz’s underwear. Two fingers then pressed against the woman’s pussy lips. Considering that Black Cat had a firm rule about never letting her girls cum, it was as exciting as it was a complete tease. 

Liz let out an admittedly cute moan, feeling those fingers on her needy pussy. She continued to kiss Felicia passionately, until her horny thoughts took over. Pulling away, she would look up at the woman with desperate eyes. "P-please... It's been so long..." And with an indefinite sentence, she couldn't bear the thought of not getting to cum maybe ever again.

There were some things you never did as the property of Black Cat. 1) NEVER say Peter liked you more than her. 2) Don’t say any trait of yours was better than one of hers. And 3) Don’t pull away. Liz violated rule number three and Felicia didn’t let things go.

“And why would I let a slut like you get off?” She taunted, any niceness immediately disappearing. It should be noted though that her fingers now traced circles along Liz’s womanhood. 

The sudden (if expected) change in tone caused Liz to sink. She almost considered clarifying she wasn't a slut, but at least knew better than to do that. "B-because I..." That's when it clicked. Appeal to Felicia's cruelty. "Because if the other girls hear you got me off, imagine how jealous they'll be. We could totally rub it in their faces."

Going by the glimmer in her eyes, it was clear Liz had tempted her with something promising. But she wasn’t about to just give in. She was smart enough to know what Liz was doing. “Clever girl. And here I thought you were just a pretty face…” She didn’t think that but she had to demean her somehow. 

Moving into straddling Liz’s stomach, her right hand continued to play with her pussy while her left groped Liz’s breast. She liked keeping her hands occupied since stealing jewels wasn’t an option anymore. 

Liz huffed at her little tease, trying not to get offended. It was pretty easy though, as she immediately began to focus solely on Felicia as her hands worked their magic. "I... appreciate how kind you are to me, mommy. You've always treated me well." That was a lie. More flattery to earn her an orgasm.

“Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy. It can’t be easy thinking you’ll never cum again. Knowing I have the power to change that whenever I want but don’t…” Felicia’s nimble fingers stroked against her slave’s clit. “...Flattery like that just might change my mind.”

Liz smiled, genuinely surprised by this as she continued to enjoy the stimulation she'd been longing for. "W-well... that should be easy. There's so many good things to talk about. Like..." Oh no. She actually couldn't think of anything else. Nothing true, nothing to make up... until- "...your hair. Such a bold color. I've always loved that about you." 

“And it’s natural.” Everyone knew that it was her natural colour – it had been made obvious numerous times before – but Felicia always loved to mention that. She took pride in how gorgeous she was and it was nice to hear it said out loud. Humility? What’s that? “...Keep talking.”

Liz smiled, kissed her on the lips, then began moving down to Felica's breasts. "And these..." Her prison mommy had one of the best chests in the entire prison, not that the straight Liz could appreciate it. "They make me so jealous."

That was always a way to stroke Felicia’s ego. The compliments really seemed to get her going as she continued to ramp up in speed and added in an extra finger for good measure. “I know they do. It must be so hard having what you have…” She said a faux pout and then leaned in close and stroked her tongue along her slave’s nipple. 

Liz managed to ignore the little dig, focusing on the pleasure lighting her whole body on fire. She began bucking her hips against Felicia's fingers, moaning softly as she tried to think of more compliments. "You're so... good at this..."

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Black Cat humbly replied while Liz was getting closer and closer, smiling wide as she prepared to have her first orgasm in years.

“It is Valentine’s. Maybe I should make an exception for you…” She suggested. Working faster, plunging her fingers in deeper, she edged Liz with the possibility of cumming. And then just as Liz was on the verge Felicia, predictably, stopped while giving a cruel smile to her poor frustrated plaything. This was her little game. The promise of a possible orgasm was something she waved in front of her bitches faces knowing that they were smart enough to learn she wouldn’t let them have it but still getting to watch them have hope just for a second and then see it snuffed out. “Changed my mind. I’m just so indecisive. It’s really my only flaw.” 

Liz's face fell, having truly felt like she was getting off this time. She reached down, holding her needy pussy in both desperation and shame, then looked away, unable to make eye contact with her cruel mistress. "P-please. You can't just do that. I might be here the rest of my life. This is cruel..."

Felicia pried Liz’s hand away from her pussy. She couldn’t have the girl finishing herself off. “Cruel? What’s cruel is Petey tossing me in this shithole because he liked the way you sucked his dick more than me. And then when he got bored of you he abandoned you to spend the rest of your days here as my little fucking bitch. You should be mad at him.”

Liz shed a single tear at that, anger mixing with sadness as she quickly wiped it away. "I'm mad at both of you! He didn't have to do nothing while I got locked up, and you didn't have to make things worse by ruining whatever kind of life I could've had in here!" She knew she really shouldn't be talking back to Felicia, but she was... frustrated. Even more than the usual frustration she felt every second.

“If you want to quit being my bitch go ahead. I’m sure the women in HYDRA would love a turn with you…” Felicia walked a careful balance as a prison mommy. It wasn’t just about being forceful and making her slaves do whatever she wanted. That seemed to her like a recipe for them to eventually get fed up and turn on her. No, she instead always insisted there were worse options out there than herself. She may have been bad, but she wasn’t an actual nazi or psychotic mutant. Out loud her bitches had the choice to break away from her…but not really. 

Liz practically stopped breathing at that, heart pounding in her chest at the thought of being with the HYDRA scum. Whether she liked it or not, Felicia was one of her best options. "I... I'm sorry. You're... you're better to me than most. I should... appreciate you more." It killed her to say that, but she had to. Anything was better than ending up with Hydra... though Wanda might beg to differ.

Felicia smiled, arrogantly accepting the apology. She liked the sound of them thanking her for her mistreatment of them. “You’re welcome. Now how are you going to make it up to me?”

Liz lowered her head, accepting that she wasn't going to be getting off today... or maybe ever. "My face is yours if you wanna sit on it..."

“I was joking, but since you offered…” Felicia sprang at the opportunity to plant her bare butt down on Liz’s pretty face. 

Liz would end up eating Felicia's pale booty for close to an hour. Every time she thought she was done, Felicia would deliver a well placed smack to her pussy, signaling Liz was to keep going. But eventually Felicia was satisfied, deciding to take a little cat nap (get it?) and leaving Liz to reflect on her terrible day so far.

She mostly just thought about how much her pussy burned with unfulfilled arousal, keeping her legs shut and squirming in discomfort... when she noticed a red envelope on the floor.

It was addressed to her, and she quickly tore it open with great anticipation. Inside she would find a letter. A love letter! One filled with sweet words about how much this secret admirer liked her, how much she wanted to be with her. Liz may not have been a lesbian, but she would be satisfied with anything resembling true love in prison.

They wanted her to meet them in the cafeteria before dinner (the exact time was vague since it wasn’t as if the inmates had access to a clock). They’d been stricken by her for some time and wanted to finally meet because what day was better than Valentine’s Day to profess one’s love? 

There was just one issue. How would Liz meet them? Felicia may have been asleep but she did so lightly. Opening the metal door of their cell would surely have woken her up. And, above all else, there was no possible way she’d let Liz go do something that would actually make her happy. 

Her mind raced with possible admirers and escape plans, going back and forth in her head as she paced the floor. Cassie Lang? She seemed sad all the time... but also sweet.

She could just open the door and run, hoping to tell Felicia she was desperate to get the taste of ass off her tongue... but she may punish her harder than ever for not asking permission still. Perhaps Riri Williams? She and the former princess of Wakanda seemed to have at least somewhat of an open relationship... and that butt certainly overpowered Liz's lack of interest in women.

She could wait until lunch, act like whoever the admirer was was asking to purchase her... but everyone knew better than to approach a bitch for purchase instead of their mommy.

Having been on the bottom bunk reading a book, Mary Jane Watson looked up at Liz…and then at what she was holding in her hands. Someone in their cell had gotten a letter and it wasn’t her? That only made her feel more jealous. And so, having already been having a miserable holiday, she antagonistically asked: “What’s that in your hands?”

Liz quickly stopped in her tracks, whipping around and hiding the letter behind her back. "It's nothing!" Oh yeah. Liz was sooo convincing.

“Nothing. Really?” Mary Jane rolled her eyes and then extended her arm out. “Hand it over.”

Liz was clearly nervous as she handed the letter over. Sure she remembered the main details, but she really didn't want to lose such a sweet piece of writing. And really didn't want Mary Jane to have blackmail material over her... but she handed it over, knowing it was her only logical option.

Mary Jane read over the letter, growing more and more incensed with every word she read. If anyone in their cell deserved a love letter like this it was her. Just the first few lines had her stomach in a knot and by the end she was practically fuming. She had to reread it again just to be sure it actually was meant for Liz. “Good luck meeting whoever this mystery person is. There’s no way Black Cat is letting you go.”

Liz bit her lip, looking up at the sleeping Felicia, before locking eyes with Mary Jane. "C-can you help me? I'll literally do anything you want. Anything. I need this..." And she figured whatever Mary Jane came up with couldn’t be worse than Felicia's cruel ideas.

“Yeah sure I’ll help you…oh wait. I would help you…if last week you hadn’t told Felicia when I had my hand down my jumpsuit. I think maybe I should return the favour and let her know about this.” Mary Jane waved the letter around for emphasis. She’d looked pleadingly at Liz to not say a word and let her get off, but Liz had ignored her silent begging and gotten her punished instead. “Paybacks a bitch.”

Liz's heart sank, realizing Mary Jane would be entirely justified if she chose to snitch on her... so she got on her knees, shaking her head and trying to look as sad and pathetic as possible. "Okay, I was a total bitch, and I am so, so sorry. I'll never snitch on you again. I promise. Never."

“Never?” Mary Jane considered it. “Fine. But you’ll also give me anything off your tray at lunch, massage me whenever I want wherever I want, do my work for me, forfeit the bed to me forever, and let me tell Felicia you were touching yourself.” She drove a hard bargain. 

Liz's mood fell even harder. This sounded miserable, and she would be losing some of the only privileges she had in this prison. There was also no clear time table on half of this stuff... but if it meant she had a chance at romance. "D-Deal. Just don't let me starve."

“We’ll see how I feel.” Mary Jane said. She had just won a massive amount of perks by prison standards. 

Liz let out a heavy sigh, standing back up and holding out her hand. "Whatever. Just give me back the letter and help me get to the cafeteria..."

Mary Jane tossed the letter at Liz in response. “So what’s the plan?”

Liz raised an eyebrow. "I... I don't know. I figured you'd help me get out of here without waking up Felicia... but if you don't have any ideas... maybe just start a fight with someone while I escape?"

She was asking Mary Jane to pick a fight with someone? That was easy enough. Casually getting up from her lounged position on the bed, she approached the shape of Michelle Jones on the ground. Michelle had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting back from the mines. “Face it, bitch, Peter hit the jackpot with me. Not you. Me!” Mary Jane abruptly antagonised as she forced the other MJ awake. 

Michelle groaned softly as she opened a single eye and stared at Mary Jane blankly with them. The words clearly didn't hurt her much. "You were just a pair of tits to him." Michelle had come to terms with Peter's cheating, and while it didn't make it right, she at least had it in her head that she was his only genuine love. Whether or not Mary Jane’s hurt at those words was real or simply a convincing act was debatable, but the slap she dealt to Michelle’s cheek was very real. 

Michelle's eyes shot open wide at the slap, briefly staring at Mary Jane in shock before getting to her feet and trying to tear the woman apart. Liz quickly took advantage of the chaos, yanking open the unlocked cell door and taking off down the hall.

Surprisingly, her journey went uninterrupted. Despite the constant feeling that all eyes were upon her, or that from any corner a lustful hand may reach out for her, no one actually touched her. It seemed that Felicia’s ‘protection’ of her property was upheld even when the thief wasn’t around. Reaching her destination, Liz looked around for her potential admirer, but everyone in the cafeteria right now was either way too cool and scary to have written that letter, or in the case of Karen Page, too preoccupied servicing Elektra, and the women she sold her to, to ever have the free time to write it.

Page was currently struggling to comprehend how much her anal passage could stretch, as Olivia Octavius shoved an entire tentacle inside it. It was a sight that made Liz sigh and look away, not wanting to be reminded of what went down in this place.

And so, unsure on what to do, Liz sat and she waited. Patiently longing to know who her sweet Valentine was. With every moment spent that she saw no apparent sign that they were present she burned to know who they were just a little more. The theories kept growing, changing on who they could possibly be and why they were late. 

Maybe it was Anya Corazon, the objectively attractive spider-themed hero she’d seen in the showers. Perhaps it was a hero like Black Widow who'd come to rescue her…but even she knew that one wasn’t realistic. It was a little odd how her thoughts had veered towards arachnid-based individuals.

She went through many more possibilities in her head, excitement growing with each one... all while the cafeteria got emptier and emptier.

After about two hours of waiting and daydreaming... she finally began to suspect that her admirer wasn't coming. Her heart sank as she came to this realization, but gasped as another person finally made their way in...

“You came! I was so worried you’d stand me up.” Felicia exclaimed sarcastically as she sauntered over to the table Liz was seated at. 

Liz looked up in immediate confusion, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find a response. It hadn't fully sunk in yet, and she was too depressed to be scared. "W-what are you doing here?"

“I could ask you the same thing, Lizzy.” Felicia leaned over the table and looked down with a grin at the priceless expression on her slave’s face. 

Liz lowered her head. This day had been a nightmare. She'd made a terrible deal with MJ and probably gotten herself in trouble with Felicia, all to meet an admirer who didn't seem to be showing up. "Don't be mad. I've already had a hard enough day as it is..."

“Mad? Why would I be mad? It’s not like you tried escaping the comfort of our cell to go on a little date.” It was clear that Felicia was already thinking up some ways to punish Liz for the transgression. All of which would probably involve some form of demeaning task.

Liz blushed, crossing her arms and trying to look tougher than she felt. "Mary Jane told you? That is extremely uncool..."

Felicia was a little surprised that Liz wasn’t catching on and so, tiring of the back and forth, she outright said it: “ I’m your Valentine.”

It took another moment for Liz to finally realize what this meant, but when she did, she immediately felt humiliated, burying her blushing face in her hands. "You... I... I can't believe you." Her voice started to crack a little, hope of a genuine romance completely crumbling.

“Wow, Liz, way to make a girl feel wanted. So you’re turning me down?” Felicia guilt-tripped. “I honestly didn’t think you’d take it so seriously. The fact that someone might want to date you should have been a dead giveaway that something was up.”

Liz finally lowered her hands, turning to Felica and staring at her with a mix of sadness and bubbling rage. "I didn't make Peter cheat on you. I didn't know you existed. Why are you taking this out on me?"

“Because hurting you is currently the closest thing I’ll get to hurting him. Plus it’s fun.”

Felicia was unshyly upfront about the reasoning behind her cruelty because she wanted Liz to do something rash. 

Liz had never been much of a fighter, but as she delivered a well deserved punch to Felicia's jaw, she felt an undeniable high. "You're right. Hurting people can be fun."

“What the fuck, Liz?!” Felicia actually shrieked, taken aback by Liz going that far. She expected she’d break down in tears and then throw a poorly-timed, foreseeable hit that the thief could easily dodge. Not go mental and punch her in the face before she could even react. 

Instinctively reaching for her aching cheek, Felicia stumbled back and tried to push down how much it hurt. 

Realizing she actually had some power over Felicia for once, Liz got to her feet and shoved her mommy against the wall, bringing her knee up and slamming it right into the woman's crotch. Her dad had taught her self defense, a skill she somehow rarely used thanks to the fear Felicia inspired. "I think things are gonna work a little differently from now on."

Felicia was skilled enough in martial arts, but, caught completely off guard, she was quickly reaching the ‘find out’ stage of her games. She’d finally pushed one of her bitches too far. Pinned against the wall and being kneed, she struggled to find a chance to strike back. 

Her womanhood felt like it was on fire. Doubling over, she went wide-eyed as she tried to block Liz’s possible next move. Taking advantage of Felicia's new position, Liz delivered a hard kick to one of the blonde's boobs, then three more, overcome with rage at her constant mistreatment.

Hitting Felicia’s tits was a move too far for Black Cat. Seething, she forced herself through the pain and tackled Liz with all of her force. Holding Liz’s arms down so that she couldn’t escape, she spat on her. “You’ve really fucked up!” 

Liz screamed as she went down, literally whimpering as she was spat on, the ultimate reminder of her place. "W-wait! Wait! Y-you know this was justified! You can't blame me for that!"

“Sorry but I do and you’re about to learn just how miserable I can make your pathetic life!” Felicia’s normal sultry, careless tone was replaced by a complete rage. She was seeing red as she pressed her sharp nails into the palms of Liz’s hands. “You’re right, things will work differently. You’re gonna be my bottom bitch!”

Those words sent chills down Liz's spine, and she began to thrash around wildly. "No! I'm sorry! I take it back! I'll do anything! Please don't make me the bottom!" Any anger she felt was totally replaced with fear now

“Oh it’s way too late to take it back. You’ve been a bad girl and you know what I do to bad girls…” Felicia moved her right hand to Liz’s face, squeezed the woman’s face in her grasp, and then slapped her. “Maybe I should shorten your life sentence.” She contemplated. 

Liz really began to whimper now, genuinely terrified by what Felicia might do… "Hands up! Against the wall!" Several guards burst into the room suddenly, surrounding the women with batons.

Felicia flipped her head up, messy strands of platinum blonde hair covering her face. The number of guards seemed like a bit of an overreaction but then again she did just threaten to kill Liz. “We’re just having a bit of fun here. Aren’t we, Liz?” She attempted. 

Liz furiously shook her head, pure terror in her eyes as she locked eyes with one of the guards."Help me! Get her away from me! She wants to kill me!"

One of the guards walked over and grabbed Felicia's arms, forcing them behind her back, cuffing them, and then forcing her to her feet. "I think a night in solitary would be appropriate."

“Get off me! I’m going to kill you, Liz! You’re dead!” Felicia senselessly yelled, struggling against the guard forcefully shoving her against the wall. She hated the hole. It was one of few things in The Raft that she was genuinely fearful of. 

Liz had tears running down her face now, practically throwing herself at the guards... who promptly cuffed her as well."What? Why are you cuffing me?"

One of the guards chuckled, before dragging her away, past Felicia; who Liz tried to avoid eye contact with. "Zero tolerance."

Both women were led through the prison down to the solitary holding cells. Unlike the other cellblocks, there was an eerie silence that hung over the space that made everything seem uneasy when every other section of the prison seemed to constantly be loud. Rows and rows of solid metal doors keeping prisoners locked in soundproofed rooms. Next thing Black Cat and Liz knew the guards were stripping them down. 

Felicia fought and kicked and swore. She scratched and cursed and spat. But she was just wasting her energy. 

Liz just allowed herself to be stripped naked, too scared to really fight back anymore. But there was understandably one thing on her mind above everything else. "Y-you're not, like... actually gonna kill me, right?" 

The guards notably didn't say anything. Whether they didn't care or just wanted to add to Liz's helplessness was unclear.

“I’ll see how I feel when I get out of here…” Felicia angrily replied as the guard tossed her into one of the cells and then slammed and locked the door. The sound of her banging herself against the door could be heard and then there was silence. 

This did nothing to calm Liz's fear, as she was shoved into an identical cell. Once her own door was locked, she slumped down onto the floor, reflecting on everything that had happened...

This was the worst Valentine's Day ever…

Chapter Text

Chaos itself circled an enraged Wanda Maximoff as her fingers twirled with the unmistakable silent casting of a hex. Neither reasoning or pleading could stop the witch’s wrath. There was a madness about her that was manic, the purest form of true inner-turmoil. Things had changed. She’d changed. Where once she was a grieving widow and mother, now only remained a damaged witch. If she couldn’t escape the prison of Jean’s abuse she would make everyone else equally miserable. The prison bitch who cowered to the ungrateful idiots who mistreated her was no more. 

Everyone, including herself, knew that she was a monster. But now she’d chosen to embrace it. She may not have been able to strike back against Jean or Emma Frost, but she had enemies that could be dealt with. 

“On. Your. Knees.” She commanded in a tone far more dominant than she’d been in awhile. The fury of the degradation she’d experienced coursed through her. Her eyes were hollows of madness, her hair broken, split, and knotted. She’d looked this way for years, but only now it seemed to give her a truly frightening glow. 

Her foe refused, fighting back against the sensation of chains that had wrapped around their body. Wanda wouldn’t tell them again. With a flick of her wrist she pushed them into the position of subservience and approached. 

But how did we get here? 

————————————————————— 

A day had passed since Straight As An Arrow and everything was in disarray. Case in point: Wanda Maximoff. After repeatedly being violated by Emma Frost and moreover disrespected by her prison girlfriend over and over again, had found she had become fed up with everything. For the last couple years, she hadn’t had the energy to be fed up, but her small interactions with Natasha had somehow made her realise that there was more to life than this. 

The result of her anger was that her frustration and hate were no longer turned inwards, but rather out. Today it started with microaggressions towards some of the other inmates. It turned out she had a lot of power over the other people in the prison, being the one who prepared the food. It wouldn’t be that hard to slip a little bit of dishwater into the soup of someone she didn’t like or to undercook the spaghetti of someone who had looked at her weird the previous day. 

Even though these were minute crimes at best, it made Wanda feel good. Today she’d gathered the cleaning supplies and used the water she mopped the floor with to incorporate into Agatha Harkness’ gruel. It gave her an enormous surge of freedom and rebellion to fight back. She wanted to do the same to Jean and Emma, but was scared they would read her thoughts and find out. So for now she kept it to the inmates that annoyed her on a day to day basis. One of which, today, was a certain obnoxious fangirl. 

“Hiya!” Gwendolyn Poole exclaimed as she continued her pattern of showing up at the most random moments. “So…about last time…” She didn’t know that forcing herself on Wanda was a bad thing, but she just really wanted to have sex with Elizabeth Olsen and so an apology for… whatever …she did was part of her new plan to lose her virginity.

“Who are you again?” Wanda said with extreme disinterest.

Gwen gasped, hurt. “We kissed like a week ago. You were super into it!” Wanda, in fact, had not been super into it. That was the reason she’d hit Gwen with a blast of chaos magic. 

“Oh.” Among the recent assault attempts, this one had been mild in Wanda’s mind. “Okay.” She shrugged. Her apathy was huge in this instance. 

Although this wasn’t going her way so far (things never did), Gwen kept her upbeat, kind of creepy, Laina Morris smile. She took Wanda’s hands in hers, gazing in awe of the witch’s stained-black fingertips. This was meant to be another attempt at courting the Scarlet Witch, but Gwen literally didn’t have a filter and so she said the first thought she had: “Wow these would be so great inside of me…”

Wanda immediately snatched her hand away, and stared Gwen down. “I want you to leave.” She said slowly, voice ominous. 

“But-” Gwen started but was stopped, as she felt like cold-dead fingers were wrapping themselves around her throat. “W-Wow I’m like totally scare-roused right now.” She weakly remarked as it became harder and harder to breathe. Her self preservation skills were, as ever, non-existent. 

Growing tenser, the witch realised she could give Gwen the attention that she wanted…but not in the way she wanted. If she wouldn’t leave she’d make being in her presence miserable. 

“Does this count…as…foreplay?” Gwen asked, her tone innocent yet creepy at the same time. 

Wanda twisted the zipper of Gwen’s jumpsuit, leading the fangirl on. As it descended down her body she blushed, feeling closer than she’d ever been to achieving her dream. She had no idea what was happening or what she’d done, but she was all for it. The zipper stopped only when it could go no further and Gwen’s clothing slipped right off her petite body. 

“Wow…I…” Gwen couldn’t find the words to express just how excited she was as goosebumps dotted her skin. 

Wanda silently rested the palm of her hand against Gwen’s chest, eliciting a soft moan from the girl, and then she began to descend down the length of her torso. Her fingers rested just against Gwen’s womanhood where the witch softly pressed her fingertips against Gwen’s pussy lips. Then they locked eyes and Gwen noticed a faint red glow to Wanda’s eyes that grew into a glowing crimson. That probably wasn’t good…

In a tone barely above a whisper, Wanda said: “ No more orgasms… ” 

“That’s so cool…” Gwen replied before she processed it. Then her whole world seemed to shatter in that instant as she went wide-eyed, admittedly a little stoked she’d managed to make Wanda do a twist on the infamous ‘no more mutants’ line…but then she remembered what the hex actually meant. “Wait what?!”

Wanda gave a rare smile as she watched Gwen become frantic, touching herself like an absolute madwoman to absolutely no sensation. The witch hadn’t felt so in control…so powerful…in years. 

  ————————————————————— 

“Yelena, I’d like to talk to you about the Thunderbolts Initiative…” Warden Valentina began as she slowly turned around to look at the inmate brought before her desk. “See it’s this little team I’m-” 

In less than a millisecond Yelena cut her off: “No. I don’t want to join your group.” She had no interest in having this conversation. 

“Can you let me finish my offer before you turn it down?” Val chuckled slightly. 

The two of them had a history. Yelena knew how Val operated and that the woman was shady as shit even before she became a warden. The assassin hadn’t minded silencing whoever Val hired her to off in the past, but this was different. Immediately it was obvious who held the power in this dynamic. “I don’t want to do anything for you again.”

Admittedly this wasn’t going optimally, but Val knew had to handle this. “Not even for a reduced sentence? Face it Yelena, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison otherwise. Is that really how you see your life ending?”

“I’m fine living in prison with my sister.” Yelena said without pause. 

Val nodded, seeing that she’d need to change negotiation tactics. “You might be able to survive a life in prison…but what about Kate Bishop? You know first hand the types of women The Raft contains. I’m afraid anything could happen to a frail, young girl like her. She might even be sent back to Hela’s cell. I’ll be the first to admit that, under the right circumstances, the guards may turn a blind eye to what happens to her in there.” Val took off her sunglasses and stared down the prisoner without fear. “But if you agree and the mission goes successfully, I could arrange a reduction of her sentence.”

Yelena tensed, resisting the urge to take a pen from Val’s desk and use it to stab the warden in the neck. There were many things Yelena could ignore, but a threat to Kate Bishop was not one of them. 

Valentina now knew she’d struck a chord. Everyone had a weakness. “I wouldn’t take such extreme measures if this mission wasn’t so important. You should consider yourself flattered, Yelena, because you’re vital to its success.” 

That did bring Yelena to a pause. “Why me?” She asked sceptically. 

Val smirked. “Because this team needs a leader.”

“Why not Natasha?” Yelena questioned. She knew her sister was obviously better skilled at working with a team. 

“I’ll just be blunt, she’s a lot more famous than you. People will recognise her. But you? You have all the same skills with the bonus of anonymity.” Val replied. “So are you in?”

Yelena breathed in, taking it in for a moment. There was only one right answer here… “No.” She said flatly, seeming almost emotionless for a moment. 

“What do you mean no?” Val lost her composure at that answer. She was always supposed to be the one with the power in any conversation she had with a prisoner, and Yelena was telling her no? Even after she’d threatened Kate?

“Kate will be safe with me.” Yelena replied with just as little in her tone as when she denied the offer. She’d just started dating Kate Bishop. She wasn’t about to let their budding relationship end because the archer earned parole. Her answer was selfish but she didn’t care. She didn’t stop for a moment to think that Kate may want a shot to get out of prison. She was the best person she’d ever met and couldn’t fathom letting that go anytime soon. Life experiences had taught the assassin that when she found someone that made her happy she didn’t let go. 

Val tensed, leaning over the desk with a sudden fury that she played off with a laugh. “Fine. When your little girlfriend gets shivved, know it’s your own fault. She could have been free.”

————————————————————— 

Kitty Pryde hadn’t expected to walk in on Rogue masturbating for a number of reasons. First and foremost, they were cellmates and spent every moment with each other. She’d seen the stash of porn magazines under Rogue’s bed of course, but she’d gone along with her girlfriend’s assertion that they were purely for the purpose of trade. Sex sells, especially in prison. She did find that it was a bit odd that she’d never seen Rogue sell any of them, but in all fairness she’d barely even been in The Raft for more than a week. 

Secondly, her girl friend gave off a vibe that she was more interested in acts of torture and darkness rather than traditional methods of self-pleasure like what she was seeing. The gothic mutant metaphorically seemed more likely to hole up in a coffin for an extra five minutes to get more comfortable than to ever do something so…normal. Rogue was a person, but seeing her do anything remotely ordinary was always a little funny to Kitty. 

Third, Rogue could have gone anywhere else to do what she was doing rather than touching herself in their shared cell. 

And lastly, if Rogue needed space she could have simply asked. Kitty really wouldn’t have minded. She understood they both had been experiencing Illyana Rasputin related issues lately when it came to intimacy with each other. 

So why was it now that Rogue had chosen to act? Kitty had opted to use a bathroom on the other side of the prison in hopes of not killing what little romance was to be found when your bunk bed sat next to a toilet. Rogue, horny from only being allowed to cum twice in the last week (a number far less then her usual count) and only while watching Illyana make Kitty eat her out, was desperate to act. Kitty had barely left when Rogue ripped open her jumpsuit and began fingering herself. 

At first Kitty wanted to do the right thing by looking away. But, after she looked around to see if anyone was in the hallway and heard her girlfriend was still going, she couldn’t help but do something which made her feel torn; continue to watch.

She watched as Rogue slipped her fingers inside her panties and her breath hitched . The goth shakily let out a breath as quiet as she could. She was almost shocked by how she’d become so slick so quick.

Kitty simply couldn’t peel her eyes away from Rogue sliding against her clit and back, growing more and more wet and just . . . looking beautiful. Specifically, the way her messied white and chestnut brown hair flowed over her face, how her pale skin sweaty and flushed nearly to a healthy colour in pleasure, and her small but perfect breasts bounced in time with her thrusts. 

She could bear to watch no longer and so, suppressing how awkward she felt, she charged into the cell. “You’re coming with me right now. We’re going to find a place where you’re going to dominate me and she can’t interrupt us.” She boldly asserted, almost uncharacteristically so. 

-

They stumbled into the bathroom, grateful that it seemed unoccupied at the moment as Rogue playfully pushed Kitty into the closest stall. There was absolutely zero foreplay before Rogue shut the door behind them and then slid her hand along the cheap orange fabric of Kitty’s jumpsuit, trailing up until the zipper was between her fingertips. Hooking her fingers against it, she ripped at it with a burning lust. 

Their faces came dangerously close before Kitty remembered to half-phase, aware that any touch without doing that first would be incredibly painful. Kitty let their noses brush together as she took Rogue’s hand, guiding it to the front of her panties underneath the open jumpsuit. 

Kitty’s breaths became caught in her throat and she let out a quiet moan, their eyes locked as they continued to grind helplessly against each other. Rogue’s fingers quickly decided to slip inside of Kitty and she hastily rode against them without the slightest bit of hesitation. They panted softly against each other, desire driving them mad as Rogue pushed Kitty’s underwear to the side, two fingers quickly finding her clit and rubbing against it.

Kitty furrowed her brows and her eyes fluttered closed as she let out choked gasps, a hand moving to Rogue's cheek. This moment of touch, to feel another’s skin against hers, it was like euphoria to the goth mutant who’d spent most of her life unable to have physical contact with another. She felt like she died a thousand little deaths.

Rogue could feel her girlfriend clenching on her fingers and she curled them, causing a primal moan as Kitty slumped against her and came hard on her hand, shaking and gripping harder at Rogue. 

Kitty eventually pulled back and shakily lowered herself to sit on the toilet seat, staring down at the tiled floor in pure bliss. It took her a moment to catch her breath. 

Rogue stepped closer and with the same hand still drenched in Kitty’s juices, she pressed two fingers under her chin, lifting her face. A mutual understanding on what should happen next formed between them, and then their lips met in a kiss that seemed to make everything around them melt away. Whether they were back in X-Mansion or incarcerated in The Raft didn’t matter at the moment.

Their lips parted and, while Rogue didn’t smile, Kitty could tell that she essentially was doing that in her own weird way as she moved to unlock the stall and walk over to the sink. Except who should be standing, arms crossed and leaned against the counter, but Illyana.

“You thought you could really get away from me?” Illyana chuckled. “You’re my bitches. I own both of your asses. That being said, I will give you a choice. Today I’m giving a wedgie and I’m making one of you use your toothbrush to clean the toilet. You can share the punishment or one of you can take it all.” 

Kitty hastily pulled back up her jumpsuit and ran out. “You think you can like turn us against each other? I love Rogue way too much to ever just like step aside and let you bully her, and she feels the exact same-”

“Give Kitty both.” Rogue cut her off.

Kitty betrayed, instantly exclaimed: “What?! No way! Give her both! I’m not using my toothbrush to clean a toilet!”

————————————————————— 

Carol’s body was unsteady as she sat up on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. The nurse had told her that it was time for her to leave the infirmary, not necessarily because she was recovered but not in danger enough to have to stay. Carol was terrified of returning to her cell and facing all the other inmates again. She’d numerous nightmares about what happened down in the mines. Sure, there was a lot of gang violence in the prison, but the situation in this case had seemed extra cruel. Carol couldn’t believe that Jean didn’t face any repercussions from her actions and that she would have to face her again, possibly today. The only thing that made Carol feel better was the knowledge that Valkyrie and the others were on her side and that there was a very low possibility of something like this happening again. She was still the leader of the Galaxy Gals and that warranted respect and protection. Besides, she was Captain fucking Marvel, the greatest hero in the cosmos. 

Her wounded eye was covered by bandages and a modest eye patch and most of her bruises had faded to an ugly green. She felt weak and scared, but prison was no place to allow herself to be so weak. She’d already put her prison uniform back on, which felt a lot better than the flimsy hospital dress. She also really wanted a shower since she’d not had the opportunity to do so since arriving in the infirmary. She thought she could ask one of her bitches to give her a massage and wash her hair, that would be nice and relaxing. 

After she was successfully dismissed from the infirmary, she walked down the halls quietly and slowly. Thankfully, she didn’t meet anyone there until she arrived at her cell, where the door was open and loud sounds could be heard coming from inside. 

“The fuck is going on here?” Carol said as she walked through the door.

She was greeted with the sight of her room, but it looked nothing like how it had looked before. Every single piece of contraband she’e collected over the years by being in power was either gone or broken on the floor. Her mattress was stripped from the bed and there was a hole in it.

In the middle of the room was Ayesha, her golden shimmering arms draped with Carol’s belongings. She looked caught and dropped some of the things in shock, which filled the room with the sound of clanging.

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” Carol said, the anger making her head throb immediately. “Why are you touching my stuff? What happened here?”

Ayesha looked at her like a deer caught in headlights before a smirk appeared on her face. “Oh, I guess you missed the memo while you were busy being a newly made pirate.”

Carol was taken aback by the tone of voice her former slave used towards her. “What?!”

The alien bowed down and picked up the things she had dropped. “This stuff is no longer yours anymore. Neither am I.”

Before Carol could answer, Ayesha had hurried out of the cell and left her standing in the door opening in shock. 

The confusion and anger boiled over and set her into motion as she marched after Ayesha. However when she turned the corner the golden woman was nowhere to be seen. “FUCK!!” She turned the other way and raged down the hall to go find Valkyrie in the gym. She was always either drinking or in the gym. Or both.

It was as she was on her way to the gym, fists clenched and fuming, that she heard a scream. "Help! Somebody help me!!!"

Some new girl had her back against the ground while looking up at the terrifying blonde, Illyana, looming over her. She tried to push herself away but her wet foot just slid against the floor. Stepping over the girl, the bully crossed her arms and looked down at her with mock pity.

Carol wanted to just keep moving. Bad things happened to women in prison all of the time. It was none of her business. She was missing an eye and had someone to find. But she only managed to take one step with the intent of ignoring it before she instinctively advanced and threw a punch hard across Illyana’s face.

The bully staggered without time to even register what had happened before she was pinned against the wall. “What the fu-” She started but stopped when she was tossed to the ground herself.

The new girl quickly scurried to her feet, watching in shock as a blonde hero took down the bully. "T-thank you for helping me. I really appreciate-" Her jaw dropped and she stared in wide-eyed shock at the amazing woman before her, taking in deep breaths as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. "You're... you're... you... you're... you're Captain Marvel! You're Captain Marvel! You're Captain Marvel! You're Captain Marvel! You're Captain Maaaaarrrrvvvveeeelllll!!!!!!"  

Carol was made more than a little uncomfortable by the overwhelming level of excitement the girl had, but tried her best to take it all in stride. She really had no idea how to handle this kind of situation. “Yeah…that’s me. Are you ok?” She asked, referring both to the girl’s excitement and to see if Illyana had caused her any serious harm. 

The girl tried to calm herself down, recognizing Carol was having a hard time taking in her fangirling, but she just couldn't. "I can't believe I was just saved by Captain Marvel! You're like my all-time hero!" She said this last part with a cracking voice, nearly tearing up at the amazingness of this moment.

“I am? That’s so cool….” Carol replied, mind genuinely drawing a blank on what to say. She could punch aliens and mutants until she passed out, but dealing with a fan was seemingly impossible. At the moment fighting off the hordes of Annihilus seemed easier. But even she knew her response was weak so added: “So uh…It was no problem saving you.” 

The new girl finally took off her excitement goggles just in time to notice the eyepatch. She gasped loudly, suddenly feeling devastated for her. "What happened to your eye?!"

“An X-Man attacked me in the mines. Don’t worry. She’ll pay.” Carol said as if that was normal. She didn’t know how she was going to make Jean pay, or even what was happening within her own gang at the moment, but Jean would pay dearly. 

The new girl’s lip quivered, running towards her and wrapping her up in a tight hug. She didn't know what to say. She just felt sad. Carol froze…but allowed the girl to hug her. It was sweet. Far sweeter than most had been towards her as of late (except for Valkyrie of course).  "I'm sorry... I hope you get everything you want in here."

“I’ll be fine. By the time I’m done with Jean she’ll be lucky if I make her… Nevermind.” Carol started to say something about Jean licking her holes and then promptly realised that probably was a bit excessive to say to her fan. 

The new girl pulled away slightly, looking up at Carol shyly. "It's okay. I understand you're angry. You don't have to say what you're gonna do." She then felt some of her own anxieties about prison returning, and suddenly felt very desperate for a positive conversation. "Can I hang out with you for a while? I have soooo much to ask you!"

“I…” Carol was about to say she had to go. That she was a bit busy looking for Valkyrie. But she paused and decided that could wait just a little longer if it meant making the new girl’s day. “Yeah we can hang out. But let's start over. Hi, I’m Carol…” She extended her hand for the girl to shake. 

The girl gasped as Carol reintroduced herself, this time by her first name! She bit her lip to keep from squealing, taking her hand and squeezing way too hard. "I'm Kamala! On the outside, I was Ms. Marvel! I named myself after you! I really hope that's okay. Please don't sue me! I don't wanna go to jail right after getting out of jail." She then laughed nervously, almost frantically. It would have been creepy if she wasn't so cute.

“Nice to meet you Kamala.” Carol said as the girl continued to shake her hand for far too long. 

Kamala suddenly realized that, letting go and laughing nervously again. "Sorry! What should we-"

"Khan! Your cell's ready!" Kamala turned to see a guard waving her over, then turned to Carol with a sad look. "Maybe we could meet for dinner?"

“Sure. See you then, Ms. Marvel.” Carol said warmly. As Kamala left, Carol refocused on what she was originally going to do. 

—————————————————————

Leaving behind a distraught Gwendolyn Poole, Wanda felt like she was going to be sick. Not out of guilt for what she’d done to the stalker though, no it was because memories of what Emma Frost did to her the previous day resurfaced. The fear she felt as she was tied down, helpless to fight back for hours as every possible bit of dignity she had was taken from her. Jean and The Phoenix had been rough with her before, but nothing compared to just how awful Emma was. 

She suddenly felt so much power now that she’d struck back against one of the people who’d tried to assault her. Gwen would never again get off. The piece of her that felt bad for hexing her was snuffed out the more she thought about how much she wished she could do the same to Emma. 

Truthfully Wanda wasn’t even sure her curse had worked, but the feeling of her collar shocking her and the fact that her spellwork was always at its strongest when she was emotionally charged made her assume the chances were high that it had been a success. 

She became so caught up in her thoughts she felt like she’d been teleported as she startled back to awareness holding a bucket and sponge in hand. She couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten to the bathroom. Much less when she decided to start cleaning the sinks. Everything seemed foggy today, like she was a passenger in her own body. But that wasn’t that far from the truth. Her body really wasn’t her own. She was just Jean Grey’s fuck doll that got pulled out when her girlfriend was bored and tossed aside when there was something better to do. And yet Wanda knew she’d agreed to this if it meant being protected. 

Watching as the soapy sponge scraped against the grimy sink, pulling up stray hairs and dirt, Wanda’s hands began to shake and she felt her knees buckle. Before she knew it, she leaned over the counter crying uncontrollably. She didn’t even know the exact reason. Was it the loss of her husband, her children, suffering Jean’s abuse, knowing she’d die in The Raft hated by the world, being raped by Emma Frost, or all of the above? 

The more she tried to breathe, the harder her tears fell. Desperately she tried to make herself stop, but nothing worked. It was overwhelming. It was like everything hit her at once, a lifetime of mistreatment and misery tearing at her. At that moment the thought that she just wanted to die repeated again and again. She couldn’t bear to feel it anymore. The sight of her own sorrowful reflection in the mirror repulsed her. 

People could hear her sobs coming from the room but no one came to sooth her. No, instead someone came to do something else.

“Oh look, it's the Scarlet Bitch !” Agatha Harkness laughed. “I noticed breakfast tasted a little weird today. Want to explain yourself, hun?” She’d been halfway through her bowl of food before Rio had decided to tell her what Wanda had done to it. The incarcerated witch from Salem had resolved to do something about it even if it incurred Jean’s wrath. 

She pressed herself against Wanda’s hips. Her pussy already hot, dripping wet, having rode herself against her chastity belt minutes earlier, her free hand rubbing Wanda’s still sore breast and pinching her nipples beneath her jumpsuit so tightly the pain was like a white-hot dagger.

“A-Agatha! Get off of me!” Wanda yelled as tears rolled down her cheeks and she was spun around to get a good look at today’s assailant. 

Agatha’s jumpsuit was tantalisingly torn open already in a way that Wanda’s eyes couldn’t help but pause over the witch’s breasts for a moment. Agatha cackled. "Wanda, dear, are you having fun yet? You’ve used that pretty, powerful little mind of yours to play dolls. Taking away the lives, the rights, the people behind the facades you set up for them.” Wanda’s eyes went wide, and a shiver shot down her spine. "Getting scared, aren't you? Well, dear, it's time you learn. You created a fantasy for your own outlandish desire. Now I’m going to use you for mine."

No scream escaped Wanda’s lips as Agatha held her close and then, with a tug, pulled open her clothes. "Nice tits, bitch." Grabbing her nipples, her captor pulled and twisted as hard as she could. Wanda gasped and thrashed around. "Could have a nicer ass, but a gal takes what she can get in prison." She trailed her hands down Wanda’s frail body to her pussy.

A few light touches was all it took before, despite how ashamed she was, she could feel herself getting wet. She hoped Agatha wouldn’t notice, but the witch’s next words conveyed otherwise: "Such a naughty girl, Wanda. I didn't want to have to resort to it so early, but a bitch needs some housebreaking." Agatha dealt a hard slap to her sex. Wanda felt tears pooling in her eyes. It stung her and her clit hurt immediately, but she couldn't deny the pleasure hidden between the pain. This was just like Emma all over again! “Spread your legs, dear. Come on spread them for me…”

When Wanda didn’t obey, Agatha slapped her womanhood again. One. Two. Three. Four.

The former avenger spread her legs and Agatha asked: "Ready to behave, aren't we? Like the good little bitch you are?" Wanda nodded in response, willing to do anything to make the pain stop. Her pussy was red from the beating and tears streamed down her cheeks freely. 

Then there came the faintest of voices in her head, too quiet to discern. But it grew louder. Until it was a thought so loud she felt like she could hear it being yelled at her. She was The Scarlet Witch. Why couldn’t she do to others what she’d done to Gwendolyn? Maybe not Emma Frost and Jean Grey, but who was to stop her from punishing the others?

A burning rage swelled in her heart, igniting her depression into a fury that demanded immediate justice. She was a monster and people had forgotten that. It was time to remind them. Starting with Agatha… 

Like someone was whispering in her ear, she remembered that Agatha was the woman to blame for taking her family from her. The one who stole the only time in her life that she’d truly been purely happy.  Wanda had accepted her own part in what happened, that Westview was her own fault, but suddenly she felt different. She didn’t deserve torture. She didn’t deserve Jean. And she definitely didn’t deserve to be groped by just anyone who had the slightest bit of attraction towards her. 

“No.” Wanda said. But it wasn’t a scream or shout. It was low and quiet, and yet it did more than a raised tone possibly could. It was firm, defiant. Her eyes glew red. 

Agatha was surprised but didn’t relent. “What’s the matter, hun? What are you going to do? It’s not like you’re not already everyone’s witch. Half the prison has had a turn with you. 'The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no coven, No need for incantation’ but you, Wanda, you’re this whole place’s walking sex toy. You’re powerless here.”

Wanda shoved Agatha back in a blast of chaos magic that immediately made her collar give her a near-debilitating shock. Key word: near. “I don’t need you to tell me who I am.” She said as she got back up and then halted Agatha from doing the same.

The Scarlet Witch grabbed Agatha by her throat, eliciting a laugh from her, and then shoved her against the wall “Open up for me.” Wanda demanded, tapping Agatha’s bottom lip. Two fingers slipped past her lips when she opened her mouth, pressing down on her tongue lightly. “Get those wet for me.”

Agatha fearfully sucked, rolling her tongue around each corrupted finger with a groan. She took them deeper, noticing how the other witch watched her wrathfully. Wanda pulled them out with an irritated hiss.

Suddenly Agatha felt spectral fingers drag down her back, until they slipped through her chastity belt into the back of her underwear. Her thighs trembled as two fingers slipped inside, already pent up. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at how easily those fingers entered her, but the embarrassment didn’t last for long as the fingers began to move. 

Wanda stepped back, watching as her spellwork played out. 

With a hand slipping behind, and the other rubbing her clit from the front, Agatha had started to pant. Her hips bucked involuntarily against the non-existent hand, grinding down on the fingers that had her clenching. “W-What are you doing?” She bitterly asked, teeth gritted as she tried to defiantly hide how turned on she was. 

Wanda flicked her wrist as suddenly Agatha felt the violent circular motions of rubbing against her clit. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Agatha knew this was a punishment of some kind, but her clit throbbed against Wanda’s summoned fingertip. She shakily spread her legs further apart as the fingers thrusted roughly. She felt the familiar coil in her quivering stomach from a building orgasm, and she bit back a moan at the hex’s relentless pace. She could feel it … just a few more seconds and…

It all stopped. Once more Agatha had been denied an orgasm. “T-This is cruel!” She screamed at the expressionless Wanda standing over her. 

“Good. Scream for me. I want everyone outside to know that I did this to you.” Wanda replied without the slightest bit of mercy towards the other witch. 

Agatha grimaced in response, hating that she was at the complete mercy of Wanda again . “So now what will you do to me? You can’t claim me!” She tried to sound as defiant as possible despite the fact that she had absolutely no power in this dynamic. 

“Oh, I’m not claiming you. But you’ve given me no choice but to punish you.” Wanda rolled her eyes in an uncharacteristic way. “Also, I’m not going do anything to you. No. This time I will finally put myself first.”

Her fingers twitched unnaturally as she used her chaos magic to work Agatha to the cold bathroom floor. She herself lowered down too, her back against the wall comfortably, knees up. 

Agatha couldn’t move, so Wanda used this time to continue her monologue. “Do you remember when we met?” She whispered softly. She beckoned Agatha forwards slightly with a wiggle of her finger while using the other hand to unzip her jumpsuit.

Agatha’s heart raced as she saw Wanda’s bare body come into full view. It was a sight she'd seen before in the showers, but there was something different about having it happen elsewhere. Something that made for a strange concoction with her bubbling wrath within. “Spare me the monologue, Wanda, and just do whatever you’re about to do!” 

Wanda chuckled softly, her elbows leaning on her knees. “No. Tell me about when we met.”

“You held a town hostage, made up some fake kids, and I tried to steal your magic. You’re not still mad about that, are you?” Agatha knew that antagonising her opponent wouldn’t help her get out of this, but she just couldn’t help herself. She also neglected to inform Wanda that she’d actually met her son after Westview…

“Not at all.” Wanda lied. “You know, when I first saw you, you were so interesting to me. You know, before I knew you wanted to steal my power and kill me. There was something about you… alluring.” This was probably the most honest Wanda had ever been with Agatha. 

“Yes well that’s me, hun, alluring. I must admit I’m glad you liked my performance as Agnes. I was always a talented actress.” Agatha said with her complete lack of humility. “You didn’t look so bad yourself in that dress and apron getup.” Agatha wasn’t even sure if she was flirting there or not. 

Wanda smiled softly. “You know I could tell something about you immediately?” 

“Oh yeah? What was it?” Agatha already knew the answer but she wanted to hear Wanda say it.

“I was sure you didn’t have a husband. I could tell you were…you know.” Wanda shrugged. “Not that it matters in here.”

Agatha immediately thought about Rio and the fact that she was probably just outside the door listening in on this conversation. She realised in hindsight that her ex had definitely set her up for this exact scenario. “I must just have that aura about me.” She smirked. “You don’t seem to mind being with women these days.”

“I don’t mind the women. But the exact ones, I do mind. “ Wanda let out a long sigh. “Anyway, because I know you know what to do, I want you to eat me out. And don’t hold back.” She said it so casually, something she had never said in her entire life. She had always been submissive, even with Vision. But it felt good.

Agatha, surprised, remarked: “Careful there, you might actually be growing a backbone…” but her words were just a distraction from the strange attraction she felt to the Scarlet Witch. There was something about her in this moment that drew her in beyond her long-held desire to see Wanda made her owned bitch. “But who am I to resist?” She agreed. 

With Agatha laying on the floor and a naked Wanda knelt over her, all it took was simply straddling Agatha’s face for the witch to get straight to work. Whether she agreed out of self-preservation or genuine intrigue in what it would be like to taste the Scarlet Witch was impossible to tell as her tongue gently, tantalisingly, stroked the other prisoner’s sex. 

Wanda let a soft moan escape her lips and tangled her hands in Agatha’s matted hair, pushing her closer towards her. This was the first time since landing in this prison where she was in control of her own pleasure, rather than being at the mercy of another. She relished in the feeling as Agatha hit all the right spots. Afterall, Agatha did have a few centuries of experience with this sort of thing. And would have deemed any other descriptor less than masterful an understatement of her craft. Her tongue licked and lapped between Wanda’s folds with a passion, hungrily going deeper and deeper. A stroke to Wanda’s clit and then circular passes back and forth. 

The waves of pleasure going through Wanda were something she had not experienced in a long time, if ever. Compared to Agatha, Jean was kind of bad at this looking back now. Maybe it was because her heart was never fully in it or because the entire relationship was built on fear, but as she rode Agatha’s face, Wanda realised she definitely did deserve better. How stupid she had been to cower to Jean and others when this could have been her life? Naive as she was that she could bend everyone to her will, she enjoyed the thought of things changing from here on out.

Spurred by the feeling of Wanda’s body rubbing against her face, and the adorable moans the witch made that truly helped bolster her already over-inflated ego, Agatha picked up the pace of what she was doing in an effort to show Wanda just how skilled she was. She did consider performing poorly just to make her miserable, but she could hardly have had people saying she was bad at eating a woman out. And so, with her mouth working harder than ever, she kept going.

That was when the bathroom door swung open and both women hastily turned to see who could possibly dare to interrupt this moment. Blushing a greenish hue, Jennifer Walters, in full She-Hulk form, awkwardly nodded and quickly said: “Oh…um sorry. You two have fun.” Before shutting the door as quickly as she could. 

Agatha internally ranted at how it was someone else’s fault that they needed to use a space she was currently occupying, but returned to giving Wanda the best cunnilingus of her life. It was hard for either woman to focus for long on the distraction as Wanda came closer and closer to an orgasm.

The Scarlet Witch’s body began to tense, her body became flush. She could barely control the ragged state her breathing was now in as her corrupted fingers pulled at Agatha’s hair in search of anything to hold on to. And then all at once the world seemed to come crashing down around her as she came. 

Still weak in the knees, Wanda stood up, strands of her juices and saliva still trailing from her womanhood to Agatha’s mouth. She said nothing as she left. 

-

Agatha remained on the tile floor, Wanda’s juices still on her face, heavy panting from what just transpired, then the bathroom door swung open and Rio Vidal sauntered in. 

“So how’d getting revenge on Wanda go?” Lady Death teased. 

————————————————————

There were those who adjusted to prison after a while…and then there was Pepper Potts. Not since she’d been stripped out of her Armani suit and probed by a guard had she become even the least bit less horrified by one ever-terrifying thing: lesbians. It turned out that in prison they were everywhere! And to her, no one was worse than the one woman she hated above all. Life under the Black Widow was strict, humiliating, and terribly sapphic. It wasn’t that Pepper was homophobic…but she certainly wasn’t gay and her daily breakfast of Natasha’s thick, curly, red Russian bush was only one of many non-straight acts she was expected to perform on a day-to-day basis. 

Lunch was Wanda’s signature prison slop, a revolting tray of the most disgusting things Pepper had ever eaten. But it wasn’t half as disgusting as the chaser of Natasha’s cum when the spy squirted on her after a second round of oral. Prison life was miserable . If she was lucky maybe she would get a minute to herself in the showers without being too busy washing her prison-mommy. 

It may seem that Pepper was horribly abused by Nat, but this was just the entitled woman’s perspective. In truth, despite how Natasha mutually hated her, she actually was pretty tame with Pepper in comparison to how some ladies in The Raft treated their bitches. Yeah Pepper often was put in her place, but it was largely to assure that everyone knew who she belonged to. Plus, Potts just had a tendency to be a bit of a Karen about, well, everything and punishment shut her up. 

Which was why Pepper Potts, down to her underwear, was leaned over Natasha’s lap with a truly pathetic whine to her tone. She thought to herself that this couldn’t get any worse, but Nat then pulled Pepper’s standard prison panties down. 

Smirking at the familiar sight of Pepper’s freckled butt, Nat gently stroked Pepper’s asscheek – causing Pepper to seize up in fear prematurely. 

“What did I say about complaining?” Nat asked, referring to the fact that she'd been forced to listen to Pepper whine for their entire five hour shift in the mines. 

“No! Please, anything but this!” Pepper said that about everything. 

Nat responded to the plea with a smack, the first spank of many for the day. She couldn’t but admit that a small part of her enjoyed Pepper’s little yelp. “Answer my question.” The spy demanded. 

“T-That I’d get spanked…” Pepper said weakly. 

“Ok good you do remember…” Natasha spanked her again, not yet counting these as part of the punishment. “...So remember that you did this to yourself.”

Pepper’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded, resigned to her fate. She hated Nat and was technically free to quit being her bitch whenever she wanted, which was very unusual as mommy/bitch dynamics go…but she was more terrified of what others may do to her. She couldn’t survive being claimed by Hydra and inked up in neo-nazi tattoos and treated like a doll like they’d done to Hope “Van Dyke.” Neither could she bear the chances of ending up in Hela’s clutches and constantly being threatened with death should she not perform perfectly, or, more commonly, just because Hela was bored. 

“You know the rules. Keep count or I’ll have to start over.” Nat began, rapidly, painfully alternating from cheek to cheek with devastating strikes.

“O-One…I-I mean three! No…five!” Pepper sputtered, leaving Nat incredibly confused. 

Nat stopped and looked down at her, bewildered. “What?” She asked, tone conveying just how confused she was. 

“Y-You spanked me twice and then started up again…” Pepper meekly explained. 

Nat paused, and then understood. “Those didn’t count. But congratulations neither have the ones I just did because you lost count.” With that she started all over again. 

Pepper’s screams as her arse was tenderised could be heard all down the cellblock, only pausing so that she may humiliatingly call out what number she was on. The whole thing certainly was a great warning to the fate that may befall anyone who pissed the Black Widow off. At some point around number fifty Nat stopped. “Alright. Get off my lap.”

Her bitch didn’t hesitate to do just that…but Natasha had a new command. “Hold on, I didn’t say you were done yet….’

Pepper froze. “Oh God! No! I can’t! I-” but before she could finish her routine loud protest, Nat grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her between her legs. That always shut her up. On cue, Pepper started lapping away. 

“Us redheads have got to stick together, Pepper.” Nat teased with a cruel smile on her face as she leaned back and happily embraced the feeling of Pepper’s tongue flicking between her folds in sloppy, yet efficient fashion. Pepper really wasn’t very good at it, but her dedication made up for it. 

That was when the cell door was thrown open and in came Yelena with an unusually overly happy air about her. She’d just returned from the warden’s office having declined the offer and now promptly decided to move on. 

Natasha loved seeing her sister and how close they’d become since reuniting, but what she didn’t like was Yelena bursting into her cell at random no matter what, or who, she was in the middle of things with. Sighing, she looked at Pepper's miserable face between her thighs and then at Yelena, arms crossed, and leaned against the bars. “Yelena, I love you, but I’ve asked you to please stop coming in here whenever you feel like it.” 

“I have news!” Yelena exclaimed, skipping right past what Nat had been saying about boundaries or whatever. 

“Ok but…” Natasha tried to redirect the conversation to what she’d been saying but stopped. In all fairness, once Yelena had barged in just to say she’d found a pack of cigarettes under the couch in the rec room. “...can this wait until we’re done?” the Black Widow asked, pointing at Pepper as if Yelena couldn’t see. 

Yelena scoffed. “This is not the worst thing I’ve seen you doing.” She laughed. 

Nat nodded. That was true. “Fine. What news?” She wasn’t expecting the answer that she got or else she’d have had a far less irritated tone. 

“I slept with Kate Bishop and now she is my girlfriend!” Yelena’s outright pure excitement at those words was infectious, a massive smile coming over the deeply traumatised assassin’s face as she relayed the news.

Immediately Natasha’s eyes lit up and any annoyance she had with Yelena for interrupting her moment was gone. “You did? When?!”

“Last night. We argued first…and then we didn’t argue. She is very adorable. I am first woman she’s been with.” The feeling of Kate’s body against her, their kiss, replayed on loop in the assassin’s mind, making her heart flutter. 

Nat smiled. “Yeah…that doesn’t surprise me.”

“She said I’m way too good at it. That my tongue was magic.” Yelena added.

Natasha felt a little uncomfortable that Yelena was giving her this many details but didn’t say anything. Privacy pretty much went out the window in prison anyway. “I’m happy for you.”

Yelena breathed in deep, her mind racing the more she talked about it. “She is very frustrating, and very ungrateful, but she is nice and cute. I have been alone almost my whole life. It's nice to not be... I love her.”

Natasha had never seen her sister like this. She was stunned. Yelena certainly had been with other people before, but it was always to her own enjoyment and whether or not her opponent/partner liked it didn’t really matter. It was genuinely heartwarming. And then Yelena asked:

“Should I make her eat my butt in the cafeteria or in the yard today?” People needed to know they were officially an item and that anyone who touched Kate Bishop would get their fingers broken. What better way of announcing their relationship than through establishing her dominance?

Nat paused, thinking out how best to answer that question. “I don’t think you should do either of those.”

“So I make her do it in private?” Yelena asked, endearingly blind to the point. 

Nat, understanding of her sister’s damaging upbringing, was patient though. “Try not making her do anything. 

Yelena nodded, taking that answer in as if that was groundbreaking new information. The consent of her sexual experiences on the outside were questionable at best, being a brainwashed Black Widow left her little choice to say no when given an order to sleep with someone, except with that one girl in Paris. And in prison she certainly was going to be the one doing the claiming, not being claimed. So yeah very little of her sex life didn’t involve not being made to do something. 

“Fine. I will ask if she wants to.” Yelena decided.

While thrilled that her sister was so excited and understood her point, Natasha thought it best to at least temper Yelena’s expectations so she didn’t face disappointment. “Just be ok with the fact that she might not.”

“Oh she will. Lets make bet. Ten cigarettes.” As per usual, Yelena couldn’t imagine anyone resisting to play with an arse as marvelous as hers. 

“Deal.” Natasha stretched her legs out atop Pepper’s shoulders while her bitch, mouth still against her pussy, said something that was too muffled to really be discernible. Pepper probably was just asking if she could move since she wasn’t eating her out right now. To which Nat’s answer would have been a resounding no. 

Yelena chuckled at Pepper's whining, turning to Natasha and shaking her head in mutual annoyance at the prissy woman. “What is wrong, Pepper Pot?”

”It’s Potts.” Pepper corrected, pushing away from Nat’s womanhood for a moment. She faced constant humiliation from Nat, but she drew the line at her name being said wrong.

Yelena gave her a look, then snort-laughed. "Okay, Ms. Pot." Now she just wanted to be obnoxious. "You should make her eat your pussy every time she talks back."

“Oh she’ll have to do more than that.” Natasha smirked, shooting a threatening glance at Pepper. “I was thinking spending the rest of the day with her face taped to my butt will get her to stop whining for a bit.” 

Pepper looked aghast at the idea, this would be the fourth day this week she’d spend kissing Black Widow’s bottom. 

————————————————————— 

“I can’t believe you’re like my girlfriend and you just totally threw me under the bus!” Kitty exclaimed. 

Rogue felt bad…but really, really , deep down. Her decision had been selfish and she hated to make Kitty suffer Illyana’s torment, but she’d endured the blonde’s bullying for almost a year. “I’m sorry but I didn’t want to do either of those.” 

“Yeah but I don’t either! At least not by myself!” Kitty fired back, clearly hurt. 

Rogue sighed. “Luckily for you I guess you didn’t have to.” Oh yeah Illyana had opted to punish both of them since they couldn’t come to an agreement. And she threw in some extra humiliation too just for the fun of it. 

Having successfully picked what tattered bits remained of her underwear, Rogue walked with her arms crossed as she cursed the sun for the particularly bright, happy day it brought. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, leaving everywhere in the yard painfully bright. It burned her pale skin to be beneath. She asked herself why she endured this. But she knew the reason. Kitty Pryde had insisted they stay outside for a bit. 

Attempting to change topics, Kitty asked: “Isn’t this like totally so much more fun than being inside?” She took Rogue by her gloved hand and twirled her – much to the goth’s chagrin. Kitty hated being cooped up inside the dreary interior of the prison. Sure the yard was still also part of the prison, but at least it felt slightly less oppressive if she ignored the guards above. 

“No.” Rogue replied flatly in response, detesting everything about her current environment. At the moment she’d have much preferred to be back in her cell laying with Kitty. It was the type of day that would have been significantly improved by a murder. Alas, the closest thing there was to that was the bloodcurdling scream of Julia Cornwall as her and the clearly excited Anya Corazon were aggressively bent over by Olivia Octavious who used her tentacles to probe their holes. AKA, a normal day in The Raft for both of them. 

Rogue was the adopted daughter of Mystique, and yet she had to endure humiliation like that which Illyana inflicted. She could have gone to her mother of course, but Rogue was far too stubborn to simply ask for help. Besides, Mystique firmly believed that her ‘weak’ daughter being tortured daily by Illyana was good character building. Rogue figured she could have been made someone’s bitch and Mystique still likely wouldn’t have even stepped in to help. Their dynamic was far from a healthy one. 

“Well at least Illyana went to bully Rahne and Dani instead. We probably have like the rest of the day together, y’know?” Kitty genuinely tried so hard to find the bright side of prison life that it was almost painful. It was impressive how even in such an abjectly miserable place she managed to try to be optimistic. 

Rogue looked at Kitty and her heart skipped a beat. She realised in that moment that she was being selfish and resolved to try to enjoy something Kitty liked. “You’re right. What do you wanna do?”

“Ummmmm…I don’t know. We could…” Kitty took a quick glance around the yard for what to do. Lifting weights didn’t seem like fun. And there was no way she could convince Rogue to play basketball no matter how much the goth loved her. “Well you could like take me for a totally romantic walk around the courtyard.” 

Rogue liked the phrasing of that. It sounded so Victorian. She nodded. “Alright.” She held her arm out so they could link together and Kitty happily did so. She wanted to start off with an easy conversation, but instead she asked: “...So how’re you handlin’ being in prison?”

“It’s not so bad. We’re together at least!” Replied Kitty almost immediately. Despite all the difficulties that life in The Raft presented, she was grateful for every moment she spent with her girlfriend. And Rogue felt the same. 

“Even though we’ve got Illyana as a cellmate?” Rogue asked. 

That did take Kitty some consideration. Illyana was a complete nightmare. A bully from literal Hell (or Limbo). She didn’t love being forced to eat the blonde out while Rogue had to watch…even though it was admittedly kind of hot. And she definitely didn’t like the constant threats of being fisted in the ass. Not at all. “I think I’m like getting used to her.”

“That makes one of us.” Rogue stated flatly. She’d yet to become used to the puppet-wielding madwoman.

Continuing to walk side by side, the couple ignored the pained groans of Julia Cornwall getting a tentacle pulled out of her butt and being turned over so that Shriek could get a turn at playing with her tits. She truly couldn’t catch a break. It was frequent enough that Rogue and Kitty were adjusted to the sight. 

“Does your mom know we're dating?” Kitty asked abruptly. “I feel a little bad that I once helped send her to prison…”

Rogue was typically blunt as she replied: “Oh she still holds a grudge against you for that. She mentioned wanting to give you ‘death by a thousand cuts.’” Needless to say that she’d refrained from telling Mystique about dating Kitty. They were in the same prison so really all it should have taken Mystique was a passing interest in her adopted daughter’s life to know but that was asking too much of the mutant assassin. 

“...Got it.” Kitty nodded, feeling awkward. She was about to say something else, but then she saw Illyana, freshly beaten up and needing a place to vent it after having already tormented Dani and Rahne, return to the yard. 

The passing of a minute would find Rogue on her cuck bench with her hand down her jumpsuit being forced to miserably watch Kitty eat Illyana’s pussy from her spot in the background. 

————————————————————— 

Flashback to the previous night …

Titania startled awake, having practically just fallen asleep despite the intense heat of her cell (what kind of prison didn’t have air-conditioning in the middle of August?) and an unimaginably itchy mattress. She looked around the dark, post-lights out cell confused before remembering where she was and miserably laying back down. She'd been having a very nice dream about beating Jennifer Walters so hard that the emerald giantess’ clothes ripped off entirely and the naked, super-powered lawyer was forced to face a crowd of people who simultaneously mocked her and praised Titania. The joy she felt as each person fawned over her with a near constant stream of acclaim was indescribable. And, best of all, at no point in the dream was she in prison. It was a shame, then, that instead she was now back in her cell being subjected to a wet, slapping sound coming from only a few feet above her.  

She listened closely as a moan pierced the night and then what her cellmate was doing registered. Titania sighed, annoyed. It turned out there were some details about famous(er) people that she didn’t want to know. And that meant a lot given her love of gossip. The possibility that Dazzler may have nightly masturbation sessions was never something that had crossed her mind and yet now she had to be present for it. 

Titania turned over to face the wall and screwed her eyes shut. She was determined to return to her paradise amidst the unrelenting cheap, unflatteringly orange-clad, Hell that was incarceration. It seemed though that Dazzler was similarly determined to prevent that. From the sound of things, the blonde pop-star has increased her tempo. And to add to Titania’s discomfort, their bunk had begun to gently shake.  

The last two nights had been the same, and Titania was quickly growing tired of it. It wasn’t the rampant masturbation which annoyed her, it was the fact that it kept on waking her. And then she’d have to pretend to be asleep once Dazzler had finished because God forbid she make eye-contact with her cellmate immediately after they’ve just rubbed one out. Especially when she would be trapped in the same room with them for the next 7-8 hours until morning. 

Unfortunately, Titania was at the end of her very short tether. She was going to say something. Well, in a few minutes anyway. It'd be rude to interrupt someone mid-flow.  

Laying, stewing in her own indignation, Titania rested her left arm behind her head as she listened to Dazzler’s fingers slosh in and out of her pussy. She couldn’t believe that this was seriously something her life had come to – trapped in a place with so little privacy that she shared with someone jilling off…but then she felt a burning sensation between her thighs. A longing. Rolling her eyes she supposed that, since Dazzler was clearly enjoying herself so much, she may as well rub one out as well. 

Down to nothing but her prison panties in a rather futile effort to bear the heat, Titania attempted to imagine something to get her going. But she couldn’t get the image of Jennifer Walters in her dream out of her head. Or how the way the harsh artificial lighting of the prison seemed to make the emerald giantess’ sweaty skin glisten in the gym. How her absolutely ripped body- No! She vehemently mentally insisted that she wouldn’t let her mind go there. This was the prison talking, not her. It had been too long since she’d last had an orgasm and she was just around way too many lesbian vibes that were messing with her horny head. She liked men. 

But funnily enough, the more she thought about them the less she seemed to be able to recall what she’d liked about them. They were just…fine. Nothing about the straight mental images she conjured seemed to get her going. She’d never been with one that really made her feel…excited. It was nothing like the thrill she felt before every fight with She-Hulk. 

Idly she remembered their last fight in the gym, how Jenn’s strong green legs straddled her as the heroine expertly pinned Titania’s arms to the floor over her head. But even the idle thought of Jenn had provoked a surprising reaction, as Titania's nipples hardened to tight peaks as a faint flush of heat rose across her chest.

Slowly shaking her head to dispel the image, her right hand moved upward to cup her ample breasts, fingertips flaring with energy. The touch started out gentle, but it wasn't long before the soft caress turned to a harsher squeeze that forced a moan to get caught in her throat as she imagined the warmth of She-Hulk’s lips against her own. 

After another rough grasp, her hand began to make a path down, nails skirting over smooth muscle as her thighs parted. A venture down her white panties, earned a shiver before her fingers pressed between her thighs. Briefly she felt relief that she was still smooth down there, but that thought was pulled away as she found herself to be wetter than she usually was. 

She stifled a gasp from her lips as a pair of fingers slipped deep up her pussy. Settling further back against the pillows to ease the sharp angle of her wrist, Titania started to work her fingers in a slow but firm rhythm. Her other hand immediately stroked the swell of her clit, moving against the small bud with a few quick runs. It was the first time she’d done this since arriving in prison and she practically felt out of practice. But after a few more messy thrusts, a jolt of pleasure made her back arch, hips jerking forward to drive her fingers deeper. 

She thought the pleasure would consume her focus, but instead her mind drifted to the feeling of She-Hulk’s big green body flush against hers, the faint ache in her forearms from her time in the mines strangely reminiscent of being pinned by the lawyer in a heated struggle. There was nothing gay about wanting to be dominated by a big sexy green woman, right? She gasped as her fingers curved, making contact with a particularly sensitive spot. Briefly she pictured Jenn at the end of the bed watching her and she felt repulsed…yet blushed. 

Entranced in her own horniness, Titania barely noticed what, or who, she was imagining. Her fingers furiously sloshed in and out of herself, all the while she listened to her BFF Alison do the same above her. It was confusingly…encouraging. The bedsprings of the thin-framed bunk squealed as both women masturbated in unison. Titania curled her toes as Dazzler’s whole body tensed above her. It was a miracle no nightshift staff seemed to hear them. 

Letting out a quiet, ragged breath, Titania’s fingers teased herself, the tragically faintly calloused tips working closer to the slick bud until, suppressing a moan, she eased a third finger past her entrance, the subtle stretch she felt encouraging faster thrusts until the building tension between her thighs finally gave way to orgasm. 

Her hips bucked and twisted against the insistent rhythm, hands responding instinctively until she was completely spent. She slowly relaxed back against her bed, the mattress almost cold against heated limbs. It took another minute for the trembling to cease, her fingers drawing out a few more echoes of release before resting against her abdomen again, juices glistening up to her knuckles as she bathed in her secret afterglow. 

In those several long minutes Dazzler too approached, and then reached her climax. It wasn’t long after that a pair of legs dangled over the edge of the bed, and Dazzler hopped down. Titania heard a brief shuffling of clothes, followed by the sound of skin on metal. Titania adopted a tired frown, and turned over in an effort to look asleep. 

But Dazzler casually whispered: “Oh hey you’re up.”

A wave of embarrassment flashed over Titania and then she remembered that she was Titania and she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. She was the best. But there was no way she was about to let Dazzler know what she’d just been doing and so, still annoyed that it had been Dazzler who woke her up, she brattily said: “If you don’t stop masturbating so fucking loud, I’m going to have to strangle you.” She was a complete hypocrite. 

Dazzler was far from an intimidating person. Especially now as she sat on the metal toilet wearing only a pair of panties around her knees, and a bemused look on her face. But Titania still felt a small surge of adrenaline. After a few seconds Dazzler let out a musical giggle and began to pee. “Sorry, guess it slipped my mind. But that’s prison life for you. My last cellmate used to do it all of the time.”

“Um ew. Didn’t want to know that because that’s so gross. But also whatever your last cellmate did like doesn’t matter because now I’m your cellmate and it’s annoying me.” Titania snapped as she sat up and lifted her blanket to conceal her tits. 

Dazzler nodded, although it wasn’t visible in the dark cell. “Yeah it annoyed me too when I first got here. But you get over it pretty fast. Everyone does it.” It was one of those things that made the lonely, miserable nights in prison more bearable. 

-

Present

Having set the scene several times in just the last few chapters alone, I think it goes without saying that the prison gym was quite occupied by all manner of exercising heroines and supervillains. Incarcerated life, even in The Raft, really left little to do between sexual sessions so the gym was as good a place as any other to pass the time. The gym was not very elaborate and the appliances were old, but it still served its purpose for the inmates who had the urge to work out after working in the mine all day. 

Dazzler could often be found here, which was surprising given her scrawny physique. The singer explained that she needed stamina to sing for hours and especially combined with dancing, a good workout routine was essential. She was strutting on the treadmill, wearing her prison uniform half down and tied around her hips, and her hair in a ponytail.

Titania had accompanied her, despite Dazzler’s insistence that she really didn’t need to come too. And yet, the influencer gazed around the space with completely undisguised disgust. She certainly worked out, but always from the comfort of her mansion in LA. Never in a place so…pedestrian. 

“...You know I literally lost a tooth because she punched me? Yeah she just totally hit me hard AF because she was upset that I was invited to her friend’s wedding. That bitch is psycho!” She ranted. Fresh from solitary confinement (having been sent there after some light manipulation of Gwendolyn Poole made her have an outburst the last time she’d been in gym), the influencer was sure to make up for lost time by talking Dazzler’s ear off. The hole had been hard on Titania, harder than most other aspects of prison life so far. Stripped naked and shoved in a tiny box she absolutely thought she would lose her mind for the four days she was in there, but somehow she’d made it through and was now back to her the self-centered attitude she was known and loathed for.

Honestly, at this point, Dazzler was rather annoyed by Titania's habit of talking so much. There was really no way to get rid of her though, since she was literally her cellmate, so Dazzler had quickly learned how to tune out her endless droning and only reply when needed. "I’ve never been to a wedding." She said dreamily. She sped up the treadmill, almost as if she wanted to run away from Titania.

“How have you literally never been to a wedding?!” Titania exclaimed at an obnoxiously loud tone as she leaned against the wall by the treadmill…and then paused to watch as Dazzler began to run. For a moment she lingered on the sight and then she pulled her attention away.

"Guess no one loved me enough to invite me." Dazzler answered rather quickly. "Being a celebrity is a lonely life." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Yeah totally. Totally. I so know what you mean queen!” Titania replied, although couldn’t relate. She never had to feel lonely if she maintained millions of adoring fans watching her near 24/7 livestreams. 

"Why aren't you working out?" Dazzler asked, wanting to create a distance and maybe some quiet between them.

Titania furrowed her brow, and her mouth went agape in offence. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” She asked intimidatingly.

Dazzler felt caught, but didn't really care enough to be bothered. "Nah, I just feel a bit fucking awkward with you just watching me run." 

“Watching you? Ew, no. As if!” Titania seemed to put way more weight on that than was expected, striking an obvious nerve as she hurriedly looked in the opposite direction of her cellmate. “I’m not even here. Just do you.”

Dazzler let out a chuckle and continued running. "You know, if you worked out, maybe you could fight She-Hulk and win."

Titania scoffed, offended by the reminder of her constant failure to best her arch-nemesis. They’d battled well into the double digits and yet not once had she come out on top. If nothing else, at least she was optimistic. “And touch equipment that a dozen other people have touched? Yeah no thanks!” She said brattily, adding: “And FYI I have…nearly…won against Jenn before.”

Dazzler scoffed. "There's no way you even matched her." She enjoyed riling Titania up.

And Titania always took the bait. “Dazzles, I’m going to need you to shut up because you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Titania said, emphasising every other word and waving her hand around in true over-the-top flare. “She is a TOTAL bitch who constantly tries to pick fights with me just because she’s jealous. She’s like basically a stalker!” That was some severe revisionism considering it was literally always Titania who started shit.

Unimpressed, Dazzler kept running on the treadmill. She knew that if thing got out of hand, she could put Titania to sleep with her voice in no time. But she knew she had hit a nerve. "Yet it seems like you're always the one bringing her up..." She sing-songed.

“Well I’m sure she talks about me all of the time too.” Titania insisted. Truthfully, Jenn absolutely never mentioned her unless they were dealing with each other.

Like a record stopped the whole room suddenly turned to the door as The Raft’s most talked about woman entered, Nebula. Regardless of if you were in a gang or not, everyone had seen or heard about the takeover of The Galaxy Gals; how the Daughter of Thanos had made the Queen of the Inhumans her bitch. And then, when Jean Grey herself had asked if the new alliance between them and The Sisterhood still stood, Nebula had told her she could straddle a shiv. 

Unzipping her jumpsuit and tying it around her waist, proud of letting everyone see her blue tits, Nebula was surrounded by her very own posse. First and second of course were her adopted sisters, Proxima Midnight and Supergiant. And beside them were Dar-Benn and Minn-Erva, both violent Kree extremists. These aliens were some of the worst the prison had to offer, lifers Carol had only tolerated for the sake of keeping her gang strong.

Dazzler was no stranger to the dynamics of the prison, even if she was kind of a lone wolf. She immediately felt the atmosphere grow heavy when the new arrivals entered the gym and started using the equipment and her senses were heightened. Since it was technically a gym for everyone, she thought it would be fine to keep running, but was definitely more on edge and sweating nervously. 

Eventually one of them approached her, Proxima Midnight, and ordered her to get off the treadmill. "Your bouncing ponytail is pissing me off." The low voiced woman said. "Get off."

“Excuse you! You did not just tell her to get off!” Titania instantly challenged, approaching Proxima with completely unearned confidence. She didn’t even think about the fact that the horned alien was twice her size.

Dazzler internally groaned. Why did she have to get stuck with this person? She had absolutely zero survival instinct. "Nah, it's fine, I was done anyway." She quickly stopped the treadmill.

“What she means to say is that we’re done dealing with you. So you can either back off or we’re gonna have a serious problem.” Titania corrected, locking eyes with Proxima. 

The alien was unflinching as she stared back. There was a beat and then Proxima laughed at the puny Terran telling her what to do. “You’re funny. Now let’s see how funny you are when I’m shoving my fist up your ass…” But before things could escalate any further, Dazzler forcefully grabbed Titania and dragged her out of the room.

-

After meeting Kamala Khan in the hallway and having her confidence somewhat boosted, Carol was smiling as she entered the gym. She was pretty sure she would run into Valkyrie here and they could plan what fun things to do with Ayesha, who had obviously gone rogue for some reason. Her anger had faded somewhat, realising that there was no way she could be defied like that without punishing her underlings. She was obviously still on top. Oh how wrong she was....

Sitting down on one of the benches in the center of the gym and lifting weights, Nebula had been watching the door ever since she stepped foot in the room in anticipation for Carol to show up. She’d known it was only a matter of time before the woman she’d deposed would be free from the infirmary. She had something special planned for her. 

With a face that was a perfect visage of scorn, she wordlessly looked up slowly with her void-black eyes at the blonde woman. And with her gaze the other new top members of the Galaxy Gals followed until they were each menacingly staring Carol down.

Having been met with a few of her gang members staring angrily at her, Carol immediately felt her spirits dampen. "Hi." She said. She knew they obviously had no love for her, but she would at least hope they were happy to see her be okay and somewhat healthy. "Val around?"

“She’s probably here…somewhere.” Nebula replied in her cold, mechanical tone while the others silently watched. They weren’t really hiding that this was a trap but there wasn’t much of a need to.

Carol narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, right." It was busy in the gym, but not so busy that she couldn’t immediately see that Valkyrie was not there. "Well, I guess I'll go look somewhere else."

Nebula gave a look to Proxima as she set down the weight in her hand and the alien women slowly converged on Carol, surrounding her. “You’re not going anywhere, Captain Marvel ” The way in which she said her superhero name carried an unmistakable spite.

"Whoa, whoa." Carol held up her hands defensively. "What's wrong?" She was internally panicking, but tried to keep her cool.

Nebula was the first to get close. Not many galactic criminals had the honour of being so close to Captain Marvel and being the one in control. It figured that it would be a Daughter of Thanos himself that finally changed things. “I’m in charge of your gang now.” She said directly. No big villain speech or threat. One could argue Nebula lacked a flare for the dramatic, but she simply didn’t give a shit about trying to be threatening when she excelled at doing it naturally.

"Uhm, no." Carol said defensively. "Nothings changed." She seemingly was unintimidated by Nebula's presence.

“Medusa betrayed you and then I betrayed her.” Nebula could honestly respect someone who didn’t cower. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt them, but at least she didn’t think they were weaker than rotted yaro root.

"When did that happen?" Carol asked curiously. It could be that they made some plan without her knowing, but she was still powerful and would talk her way out of this.

While Nebula didn’t smile – she never smiled – she doubtlessly found the question amusing. “This morning in the showers. We took turns with her. By the end I’m not sure she had any fight left in her.” As establishing yourself as someone not to fuck with went, Nebula had done a good job of letting everyone in the prison know. It certainly made a statement to crush the Queen of the Inhumans who was also gang leader, even if they only reigned as a gang leader for a day.

"Right." Carol had no trouble believing Nebula. "And what makes you think I will give over my role as leader?"

“You won’t give me anything. But I will take it from you and make you watch as I rip you apart slowly, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but my bitch.” Nebula was more than a little intense.

Carol looked around the gym for any ally, anyone who still was part of her group. But it seemed like she was outnumbered. A strong arm around Carol’s waist interrupted her train of thought and pulled her backwards against a tall, firm body. Startled, she gasped and reflexively tried to struggle, but the muscular inmate held her tight. Craning her neck, she stared up at her captor, Proxima Midnight. Her pale white and blue skin gleamed under the harsh lighting, her long dark hair flowing back, and Carol could feel her six-pack flexing against her back and her biceps bulging where she held her. Carol had fought bigger, but that was when she had powers. At the moment she couldn't do much else but kick in vain. But, despite her panic, she couldn't help but admire her captivating features - high cheekbones, dark piercing eyes and full, sensual lips. What a breathtaking and intimidating beauty.

"This will be easier for you if you just submit" Proxima grinned, showing her teeth. Her hand cupped Carol’s stomach possessively and the once mighty hero shivered, her palm hot as it caressed down her abdomen. Carol’s pulse raced as she looked for an opening, any opening, to fight back.

“Not so strong now are you, Annihilator?” Dar-Benn jeered. She didn’t wait for Nebula’s approval to proceed with her vengeance against the woman responsible for her incarceration. Stepping in front of Carol, she smiled and peeled open Carol’s jumpsuit. 

Carol suddenly became hyper-aware of Dar-Benn’s fingers lazily tracing circles on her bare midriff and dozens of eyes around them following the movement. “You’ll regret this!” She shouted, attempting to hit Proxima with her elbow but not before her movement was arrested by Dar-Benn’s other hand. 

Proxima’s low chuckle rumbled through her chest as the hand on Carol’s stomach descended, her fingertips brushing the waistband of Carol’s underwear. "Hush now, Captain. You’ll want to save your energy for what we have planned for you." Proxima leaned down so that her warm breath could be felt against Carol’s ear. 

"You can go fuck yourself.” Carol replied, overwhelmed by her presence, reduced to a defenseless yet defiant mess in Proxima’s  strong arms. She knew about what the Black Order did when they besieged cities, and shivered at the thought, goosebumps creeping up her skin. She wondered if they’d kill her when this was over or if they’d make her their bitch. The former seemed preferable. Weakly laughing at the absurdity of her position, the fact that her downfall was being cornered in prison and not on the countless galactic battlefields she’d fought in, Carol quipped: “You’re really making me reconsider having let you join my gang.” It was just a tactic to not panic. They could do what they wanted with her, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being afraid. 

"It’s not your gang anymore." Nebula said as Proxima’s grip around Carol’s waist tightened possessively and her knees almost buckled. Meanwhile, Dar-Benn’s other hand cupped and kneaded Carol’s breasts, teasing her nipples with her thumb before pinching and twisting them with a laugh. A small grunt escaped Carol’s lips as she struggled through the pain. “Let’s show her what we do to Terran whores.” Nebula decreed

Before Carol’s mind could process her words, Dar-Benn stepped aside and Proxima lifted her up bridal style, effortlessly lifting her frame as if she weighed nothing at all. Carol gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. Proxima was so strong and dominant that she made Carol feel like a tiny, delicate doll. Like a toy in her hands for her amusement. 

As the horned alien carried her to one of the tables, hollers and cheers erupted from the inmates around us, forcing a searing blush to appear along Carol's cheeks.

"Look at that little bitch they’ve got there!” Whistled Mystique as she slowed the treadmill she’d been running on. 

"10 cigs the petúx will break after Proxima’s had her way with her!" Silver Sable laughed as she blew a cloud of smoke. 

Hela, entering the gym and reclining on a bench to watch, looked on with grim amusement. "This is the one they once called Captain Marvel? I expected more of a fight.” She remarked with a hint of disappointment to her tone. 

The excitement in the gym was palpable, weights scraped across the ground as they were dropped, conversations were abandoned and hungry, eager eyes followed Proxima’s confident strides. Carol was mortified and rageful in equal measure. They all were going to use her today, weren't they?

The taunts continued as Proxima tossed Carol on to the nearest weight bench, indifferent to the inmate already on it. The prisoner who's been using it quickly got out of the way. Immediately, Proxima pushed Carol onto her back so that she lay spread out in front of her. She then grabbed Carol by her jumpsuit and underwear and then ripped them off in one fell swoop and tossed them aside on the floor, leaving Carol in nothing. And although she’d been naked in front of others before, Carol hadn't felt as bare and open for appraisal as she did now. People knew not to make comments when she was the leader of the Galaxy Gals, but now she may as well have been some weak, pathetic new girl. Exposed to over fifty inmates, her tits and womanhood on full display. In an instinctive attempt to preserve what modesty she had left, her knees rose and she covered her chest with her arms.

"Stop covering yourself." Proxima demanded, moving her left hand to Carol’s throat and pressing with all her force for a moment. "Let me get the whole view. Show the room your body.." And with that, she took Carol’s knees and forced them apart, her feet dangling helplessly over the edge of the bench. Carol didn't try to pull them back together, knowing it was futile.

Carol grit her teeth as she tried to resist as Proxima forced herself on her, pinning the hero down without any difficulty. Nothing was worse for Carol than knowing that, if not for the collar around her neck, she could have shot the woman with a blast so powerful she’d have been a hole in the wall. But she simply couldn’t do anything while Proxima rested her hand on her sex and rubbed back and forth as if to get an idea on how she should begin. 

Proxima grinned down at Carol and undid the zip of her prison jumpsuit, unleashing her fully pale alien breasts, nipples sharp as daggers. Carol swallowed audibly, then let out another frustrated grunt. 

"Like what you see, Captain?" Proxima chuckled, clearly amused at the bewildered expression on her victim’s face. The chaotic noises around the cafeteria blended into a dull buzz and all Carol could hear was the sound of her own breaths and the beating of her heart. 

Proxima then pinned Carol’s wrists above her head, the scent of her sweat enveloping her. Carol’s body went limp. All she could do was stare into her glowing sanguine eyes, locked into a silent challenge for the woman to just get on with it. “Maybe I’ll be gentler if you ask nicely.” the alien said. It was something she told her victims just to make them beg but it never changed her approach. 

“Sorry. Begging isn’t my thing.” Carol replied, knowing she was only making things worse for herself but unwilling to break. 

Proxima let out a deep ominous laugh. "I will enjoy breaking you." One of her hands crept between their naked bodies and guided the tip of her finger to Carol’s wet folds. Her body twitched and her walls instantly clenched around nothing. Then, when she finally tried to push herself in and penetrate Carol she met resistance. Carol’s pussy remained too tight and unyielding to allow her finger to violate her. No matter how aggressively the alien tried to force herself in, the Captain’s body was less than compliant. 

"So you’re one of the tight ones?" Proxima huffed with growing frustration.

Carol squirmed and bit her lip, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. The tension and friction of her relentless attempts were painful. 

"You will loosen up! Relax your fucking cunt." Proxima demanded, violently pressing her weight down on Carol more and plunging two fingers up her pussy careless to how badly it may hurt. And believe me, it hurt. Carol forced back tears at what was happening. The other prisoners were now laughing and jeering at Carol’s expense. Proxima gave a few more tentative thrusts, but the result remained the same. Nothing. Carol could feel the irritation radiating off her, and as her grip on her wrists tightened and her nails dug into her flesh, she became aware she was about to do something rash.

"Aw look at the poor, pathetic whore!" One of the prisoners, Typhoid Mary, interjected, her voice laced with mocking amusement. Half of her freckled face was still gaudily caked in white foundation and her oily ginger hair fell in messy, knotted strands that suggested she’d not brushed it since her first day in prison. But she now also had a bandage over her nose and her left eye was surrounded by a massive purple bruise courtesy of her last encounter with Jessica Jones. "Guess she’s just not ready. You girls should just pass her around. Let everyone get their turn and stretch her!”

"Fuck off.” Nebula growled, arms crossed as she enjoyed the sight of Carol’s fate.

As for Carol, she was breathing heavily in an attempt to keep calm. She knew where this was probably going…“We of the Galaxy Gals will take her first. Afterwards , the rest of you will pay me a pack to do whatever you want to her.” Her menacing eyes darted over the inmates and guards around them, daring anyone to challenge her. The others fell silent, their attention glued to the spectacle.

"Alright!" Mary replied, raising her palms defensively and giggling to herself. "Just a suggestion. I know she's yours.”

Proxima grunted and turned her focus back to Carol, her expression dark, her jaw clenched. Carol’s throat felt dry and she couldn't stop the anxious tremble that shook her shoulders. She wanted to say something, some quippy remark, but before she could utter a word, Proxima had lifted her up by her hips, her upper back, shoulders and neck still resting on the dewy surface, her ass and pussy in the air, supported only by Proxima’s strong hands. Proxima’s fingers pushed up Carol’s pussy and she began to finger her, unyielding in her jagged motions as she furiously pumped in and out. The newfound bitch did what she could to suppress agonised moans. 

Nebula watched as Carol squirmed and tensed, doing anything she could to try and make herself bear through the pain. The cybernetic alien had never seen a sight as hot as the woman’s foolish attempt at bravery even as she was publicly humiliated. 

Carol gasped as her clit was stroked in quick circular motions that made her melt. She clenched her fists. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment as Proxima’s fingers were utterly relentless working away at her pussy. She couldn’t let herself cum. Not here. Not like this. She was Carol fucking Danvers, the savior of universe. She just had to hold on- and then, despite her efforts, she felt a twisted feeling of euphoria wash over her as she came.

Proxima loomed over her and ripped her fingers out and licked the juices off, savouring the taste. Carol was mortified but it didn’t matter. That was just the start because Dar-Benn, Minn-Erva, and Nebula, with her face looking down at Carol’s, converged once around her…

Dar-Benn grabbed Carol by the foot and aggressively pulled at her while Minn-Erva grabbed her hand and wrestled it between her thighs. Nebula plopped down on top of Carol’s face and began riding her, Proxima laid down and sloppily sucked on Carol’s nipples, and Dar-Benn used Carol’s left foot as a sex toy.

Carol could barely focus on everything that was happening to her body. Minn-Erva using Carol to masturbate, the palm of her hand being grinded against the Kree woman’s wet sex, was disturbing. Proxima biting at her hardened nipples made her want to gag. But the real embarrassment came from what was being done with her foot.

The tip of Carol’s left foot stroked through what felt like a tangled mess of long curly hairs before Dar-Benn's sadistic voice told her to “Stop squirming”. She was wrestling to get the tip of Carol’s foot between her pussy lips, Carol’s toes flicking back and forth in panic made it hard to work but very satisfying. 

True revulsion came from Nebula, the feeling of the woman's pussy riding her face was so disgusting and even worse was the knowledge that she expected her to lick. When she didn’t, Proxima bit down hard at her tit until she started complying for the new gang leader. Carol would have yelled every expletive imaginable if her mouth wasn't covered by Nebula’s crotch. She was far more used to being on the receiving end of being eaten out in prison.

Nebula rode Carol’s face hard and fast, bare butt rubbing up and down as she squirmed and aggressively moaned at the hero’s unwilling licks. “Right there” she breathed heavily, tilting forwards a little to get just the perfect angle. Carol thought of biting her but there was no point. Assessing her situation, she realised that injuring Nebula in any way at the moment left her at a disadvantage where Proxima could bite her nipple off before any guards could interfere. 

Proxima Midnight lay chest down, tits squeezed up against Carol’s body, softly pressed one nipple between her teeth while her hand lightly pinched the other. She relished the pain – the muffled sound that barely escaped Carol’s mouth.

Carol’s fingers were now slick with Minn-Erva’s cum. But that sensation was drowned out by her foot being pushed between the lips of Dar-Benn’s womanhood with no respect for her possible autonomy. The extremist had decided that Carol’s involuntary flicking may not have been the worst thing, as her toes nudged and squirmed up her wet vagina hitting all of the right spots. 

Sweaty bodies pressed up against her and entirely lost by the various moans all around, Carol could hardly tell who she’d satisfied as each woman orgasmed again and again onto her. Cheers, applause and laughter erupted around them, reminding Carol that they weren't alone. That dozens of inmates had watched her be assaulted by her own gang. 

Nebula moaned in ecstasy while the captain remained stoic as a spray of cum hit her nose and another covered her eyepatch, splattering her face and turning her cheek white.

"This is your life now, bitch." Nebula taunted, brushing Carol’s cum-soaked hair out of her face with a gentle hand. Carol blinked, her mind hazy and unfocused. Nebula finally got off Carol’s face, standing proud as she announced:  "Who wants to take a turn with her next?" It was met with more excited laughs and whistles. She chuckled, then patted Carol’s cheek sinisterly.

-

Madame Viper slithered on top of Carol’s laid out body and dealt a devastatingly harsh slap to her tits just to watch how Carol reacted. When the most that she got was a wince, she went again. And again. And again. Not stopping until Carol’s breasts were red mounds, and only then did she move on to twisting her nipples. Just enough to be excruciating. 

Through it, Carol reached as deep as possible to resist giving in. But thankfully Viper’s next words dragged her back to her deep-rooted defiance against such awful people. Reminding her just how much she refused to give in on principle alone. 

“This would have been so much easier for you if you’d joined us, race traitor. It’s such a pity to see good Aryan genes wasted on people like you!” the bigot said with a strange sorrow, as if truly saddened. But not sad enough to stop her from fingering her. Nothing was gay about fingering another woman…

-

“Let’s see that ass, baby! Yeah!” Typhoid Mary exclaimed as she turned Carol over and began feeling up her butt with one hand while she smoked with the other. She seemed to be in complete heaven at the chance to squeeze and spank the arse of an actual big-time superhero. “Welcome to prison! No more of that superheros in charge shit! You’re going to be our plaything!” Mary grinned widely, too widely. “I’m going to carve my name into your body with a shiv and then I’ll make you eat out my sweaty cunt. How’s that sound, whore?”

“You’re…deranged!” Carol spat. This was never what she’d imagined her life in The Raft would turn to, such absolute chaos. But here she was. “I’m going to enjoy…breaking…your…jaw.”

Typhoid Mary laughed. “Oh silly, you keep telling yourself whatever you want.” That’s when the madwoman had an idea…

Carol felt a heat against her rear and immediately she realised to her horror what it was. A burning hot object pressed against her butthole, sizzling against her raw flesh. The sensation was a deep, aching pain. A searing that went all the way to the bone. Her whole body convulsed but she didn’t scream. What was it that Mary had done? She was putting out a lit cigarette against her skin. 

Captain Marvel genuinely thought she was going to blackout from the pain, the agony lasting long after the embers had been snuffed out to ash. Her asshole had been branded. 

She then felt as Typhoid Mary stepped in front of her and presented her unwashed, half-shaven womanhood, one side as bushy as could possibly be while the other was almost completely smooth. “Start licking, whore!” Mary said happily. 

-

Silver Sable grabbed Carol’s legs while Madame Masque pinned her arms and body to the bench. Vanessa Fisk stood over her, her legs either side of her body, and she squatted down. Carol tried to pull her head away but the mobwife grabbed her blonde hair and pushed her face into her unshaven pussy. Although Carol didn’t eat it, gagging inside her crotch, Fisk got off on it anyway.

After a while, Carol accepted that Vanessa wouldn't let her breathe unless she used her tongue and so began. Vanessa moaned and grinded herself against Carol’s face. Then Silver Sable had a turn. Then Madame Masque. And then all three used her at once, rubbing their bodies against her. Caressing whatever they so desired. 

-

“Odin’s beard!" The raven-haired Goddess of Death moaned as she climaxed onto Carol, her body twitching and jerking, her sharp fingernails digging into Carol’s sides and leaving crescent-shaped marks. The hero winced and whimpered, every touch aggravating her inflamed walls, her body worn and exhausted beyond belief. "You’re a remarkable fuck" Hela gave a few more lazy thrusts of her fingers, then finally pulled out with a vulgar pop. 

Carol wanted to say something, but she'd already walked away and disappeared into the crowd – instantly replaced by a muscular, short-haired blonde – Anastasia Kravinoff. Strong hands flipped Carol over and forced her onto her stomach, her chin pressed uncomfortably into the metal surface, her cheek pressed against it. The inmate positioned herself between her legs before unceremoniously shoving her fist into her abused hole. The pain was absolutely searing after the cigarette burn and Carol couldn't stop herself from letting out an agonised groan as her whole body thrusted up. 

"Ugh, what a mess!" Anastasia the Huntress grunted. "You’re disgusting." Still, she seemed undeterred, ramming her hand into Carol with quick, desperate shoves. “Thanks for the hole, bitch!” She laughed as the onlookers around them cheered her on, encouraging her to get rougher and faster, eager to claim their turn with Carol next.

-

Carol lay sprawled on the table like a broken doll, her limbs numb, her muscles sore, her sex raw and aching. Her breasts scraped against the metal every time a new partner abused her, and her sticky, cum-soaked blonde hair stuck to her face and shoulders in clumps. But despite her exhaustion and physical condition she still hadn’t cried. Hadn’t pleaded. Hadn’t given them the satisfaction of showing just how violated she felt. 

An impatient finger nudged her lips. She didn’t know whose, but she obediently opened her mouth to receive it, sucking on the fingers soaked in her juices with what little energy she had left. Her hands were grabbed and led to two more people who wanted her to get them off and she began to stroke lazily, her movements mechanical and detached.

She'd lost count of how many cons had used her and how many orgasms she’d helped them achieve. Two dozen, maybe? All around her, women masturbated, rubbed themselves against her skin, cumming wherever they saw fit; her hair, her tits, her face.

One inmate after another had their way with Carol’s body that first day as the new bottom bitch of the Galaxy Gals. They took her as they saw fit, treating her roughly and carelessly. Tossing her around, bending and folding her into whatever position suited them. And she hated every moment. 

When the guards eventually announced the end of free time and ordered everyone to get on back to their cells (much later than usual, she suspected), all that was left of Captain Marvel, gang leader and hero, was a used-up shell, panting and heaving in utter exhaustion. She couldn't move if she tried. Couldn't get up if she wanted to. And yet inside a fire still burned. Each and every single one of them would pay. They’d feel her wrath. 

————————————————————— 

And where was Valkyrie during all of this?

“Doesn’t this seem a little dramatic?” The Asgardian warrior asked as she stood in the yard beside a seated Sylvie, leaned back in her seat as if regally on a throne.

As was the tradition of Asgard, the king – or gang leader in this case – was overseeing the matters of her subjects. Settling the disputes of her people and tending to legal matters. In prison that often included a lot more ‘who has rights to use what slave’ and ‘how long one should have to wait before they are paid in cigarettes.’ 

“My loins burn to be one to have the honour of sex with Thor, and she is the closest thing I have to that in here...” Amora the Enchantress, a blonde Æsir witch explained. “...and yet she has thrice refused acts I wish to perform!” 

This dispute was over Jane Foster, conveniently kneeled submissively beside Sylvie. Amora had an unhealthy obsession with Thor Odinson, an all consuming crush that went back centuries. Who slept with who and killed what was of little importance; but what did matter was that her transfiction with the God of Thunder had transferred over to Jane now that the scientist had become the Mighty Thor. 

This was the third time in the last month that Sylvie had to deal with this. "So you want her to eat you out? Just your loins or...?"

“Yes I want her to eat me out…among other things.” Amora nodded. 

Sylvie’s face became grave, managing to seem quite fear-inducing. “When you joined my gang it was understood it was at the sufferance of your King. I said I would instruct her to eat you out once per evening. And that I may reward you with more if you served me well. But if you tried to take more than your King permits, I would hear of it, and you would be punished." She gestured to Valkyrie to look suitably intimidating. “Why is it then that you’ve asked her for other things?”

“I have not broken that deal! I demand she perform other acts, but only once does she eat me out in a session.” Amora’s loophole was far from a solid argument. Especially when she was trying to fool the Goddess of Mischief. 

Sylvie glared at Amora. "Brunnhilde, it seems she has forgotten her place. Please remind her of it.” As Valkyrie seized a struggling Amora, Sylvie added: “And fetch Ghost and the buxom one.’

————————————————————— 

Karli Morganthau had been having a rough go of things as of late. Ever since Jessica Jones publicly humiliated her in the showers, she’d lost most of the minimal respect she had in Hydra. And then, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d been given one chance to redeem herself…and promptly lost to Jessica again. Her standing in the gang was little more than that of a bitch, Most of her day was spent licking the pussy of one member or another or, worse, their ass. Her mouth felt perpetually sore. 

Pulling back as she was sprayed with Sinthea “Sin” Schmidt’s cum, she looked up at her prison mommy with desperation only to be met with the woman’s ire. “C-Can I wash my face?” Karli nervously asked. 

“Useless fucking bitch.” Sin snapped for seemingly no reason as she rested her foot on Karli’s face and then shoved her back so that the girl tumbled and nearly hit her head against the wall of the cramped cell. Sin seemingly at random entered bad moods where she was sure to take it out on whoever she could.

Karli staggered to get back up but already Sin was upon her, grabbing her by the throat and then bending her over so that her face hovered just above the metal bowl of the cell’s toilet. Just one little shove and Karli would go face-first into the disgusting water. “Go on. Wash your face.” Sin jeered just before shoving Karli in.

Thirty minutes later Karli was sitting on the floor, face still wet, watching as Sin made out with Madame Viper. She couldn’t do it anymore. She needed a way out of this. And then it hit her. Wanda Maximoff was her chance at earning Sin’s respect again. Wanda had been on Hydra’s list for a very long time…and if Karli were the one to finally claim her, no one would object to how tough she was! 

It was as soon as Sin and Viper started doing things that totally were not gay that Karli left the cell, putting on as tough a face as she could as she sought the witch. 

-

Just as Wanda was leaving a defeated Agatha Harkness, Karli emerged with a shiv in hand. “Listen up, bitch, you’re mine or I’ll fucking stab you.”

Wanda locked eyes with her and Karli saw how there was nothing behind them. A complete emotional void. Her threat of death meant nothing when that was all Wanda wanted. 

“Stab me then.” Wanda said, her words husk-like. She made no attempt to fight back, or to flee. She stood waiting, staring at her would-be assailant. Hydra had wanted her ever since she arrived at The Raft and she’d sacrificed so much of herself just so Jean would protect her from them. But she was done. Jean’s protection came at too high of a cost. If her life came to an end at the tip of a weapon fashioned out of plastic cutlery so be it.

Karli didn’t know what to do. “Stab you?” She stuttered, losing any sort of fire she’d mustered for this encounter. She’d killed people before. That’s why she was in prison after all. But she hadn’t planned to do it again today. Besides, killing Wanda was not half as meaningful as claiming her. 

She gripped the blade tight as she hesitated, looking for some way to step back the threat. But she wouldn’t have to deliberate long as, out of nowhere, Wanda fearlessly stepped closer and grasped her by the throat. 

“You should have followed through with your threat.” Wanda eerily said, almost disappointed that Karli was a coward. “You’re not going to enjoy what happens to you next.”

Karli’s eyes went wide with fear as she felt the witch’s fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into her flesh until it became harder and harder to breathe. Her eyes went wide as she gasped and coughed, her body shaking. The room became fuzzy and her thoughts began to scatter in every direction. She was going to die in prison in some futile attempt to earn the respect of literal nazis. Nazis who routinely sexually abused her. She never had agreed with their views. She’d only joined because she was young, weak, and afraid when they cornered her during her first shower. The only other option to joining was being their bitch and yet that had happened anyway. 

Then her thoughts became clear and she remembered that she was holding that shiv. Her fight or flight responses kicking in, she thoughtlessly made the motion to drive the blade into Wanda’s abdomen…but the blade was ripped from her grasp by a force unseen. The answer to what had taken it was found as Wanda’s eyes briefly shimmered with chaos magic. 

Next Karli attempted to scream for help, but she found that nothing escaped her hoarse vocal chords. And so she weakly tried to kick until she was too weak for that too. Now entirely unable to draw breath, things started to go dark. She’d never been so afraid. 

Wanda let her go, but not before shoving the amateur Neo-Nazi to the ground. “If you ever come near me again I will kill you. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.” Karli hastily said, although it came out as little more than a raspy whisper. “T-Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Wanda said, placing her bare foot on the girl’s stomach to keep her pinned down. “I’m letting you live… this time …but that doesn’t mean that we’re done.” 

Karli felt her jumpsuit begin to open itself, ripping with such speed that it nearly tore apart the cheap material the prison clothes were made out of. It stopped just as it parted to reveal her freckled tits. She knew where this was going. 

Wanda took her foot off Karli and stepped towards her cart of cleaning supplies. “Get on all fours.” She cruelly commanded without so much as the slightest hesitation about what she was going to do to her. 

Karli nervously did as told, still taking in deep frantic breaths as she refilled her lungs after nearly being choked to death. Shaking, she assumed the position and stifled her tears as her jumpsuit came undone entirely and then slipped down her tattooed body. She told herself that this was better than dying and that it was nothing compared to what Hydra routinely did to her…and then she felt it. A sharp shooting pain as the shaft of something came ramming up her rectum with enough force to truly do intense damage if this wasn’t a kink story. 

She screamed, her voice ringing through the hall, as she turned around to see the handle of a mop extending out her rear, expanding her butthole to twice its usual size. Wanda, lifting the object out slightly and then shoving it back down, smirked at Karli’s agony. 

“Enjoying yourselves?” A passing guard casually asked, watching the sight unfold as she followed her patrol route. 

Wanda looked down at Karli’s now sobbing face and then back at the guard. “Of course. She’s really enjoying herself. I think she wants me to shove this in deeper…”

The guard chuckled and went along their way, no stranger to seeing the inmates sexually abuse each other. They walked away just as Karli screamed even louder at the mop handle pushing deeper. 

-

Karli groaned as she lay on the floor. The mop had been removed and Wanda had left ten minutes ago, but she still hadn’t found the strength to get back up. The pain was surreal. She thought she may lay there until the guards took her back to her cell but then she heard two people approaching. Immediately she tensed, worrying one of them may be Wanda back for more, but instead she saw only Dazzler and Titania looking down at her. 

Titania, whether consciously or unconsciously, thought back on the previous night and how horny she’d been without a man in sight for the foreseeable future (because there was no way she’d actually serve her full thirty years, right?). Dazzler was completely wrong about her being attracted towards She-Hulk, but maybe there was some merit to possibly maybe making do with what she had available. It was impulsive when she proclaimed: “You’re my bitch now!”

“What?” Both Dazzler and Karli exclaimed in unison, equally bewildered. 

The influencer imposingly rested one arm against the wall as she bent forward ever so slightly, seemingly towering over the sitting Karli. ”Alright, come on get up. I don’t have all day.”

Ass still hurting from the mop handle that Wanda had shoved up it, Karli managed to stammer: “I-I’m in Hydra! You can’t do this!”

“Really? I don’t see them anywhere…” Titania grinned. “And ‘can’t do this?’ Babe, I can do whatever I want.”

Karli could accept a lot of things, but there was absolutely no way she was about to become two people’s claimed bitch within a single hour. Despite a near debilitating sting to her rectum that made her knees shake, she stood up. She was no stranger to being in pain after sex, the neo-nazis who took turns with her were far from gentle after all. And so it was for that reason that she managed to push through it as she let out a battlecry and threw the first punch against Titania. 

Her fist met with Titania’s chest, causing the influencer to stagger back in shock. “How dare you!” she shouted, reeling as she attempted to return the blow to a psyched up Karli. 

Dazzler, for her part, simply took a step back and laughed at both of them. They both looked like complete idiots right now and there was no way she was getting involved in whatever was happening. 

“You bitch!” Karli spat as she was struck firmly in the shoulder. But she wouldn’t be talking for long as she was kneed in the stomach and the air seemed to shoot out of her lungs. 

Titania desperately missed her super-strength at the moment. Without the collar around her neck she could have sent the redhead flying, instead of just a few stumbling footfalls back. “I’m not a bitch. You’re a bitch!” She childishly retorted. 

Karli recovered just in time to defend herself from another hit, evading it carefully enough that she grabbed hold of Titania’s long hair and pulled. But she wasn’t able to block herself from the elbow to her ribcage, instantly causing her to let go as she fell to the floor.

She wasn’t able to get back on her feet before Titania had ripped her underwear off of her and was frowning as she took in the sight of her first bitch. “Is that all you’ve got?” she mocked.

Before Karli knew it, she was being dragged to Titania and Dazzler’s cell.

—————————————————————

“Kate Bishop, I have decided not to make you eat my butt!” Yelena announced as she threw the barred door of her cell wide open and stepped in triumphantly. She was glad to be back in her cell. It wasn’t much but it was home. And now living in that home came with her first actual real girlfriend! One bonus of prison was that moving in together wasn’t that big of a step in a relationship. It was just practical to be together at all times. 

“Cool!” Kate replied, a little surprised by Yelena just randomly barging in. But pleasantly so. She’d missed her. But then what Yelena said registered. “Wait…decided? Were you planning on making me do that…?”

“Yes.” Yelena stated plainly. “But Natasha told me it was bad idea so I won’t make you.”

“Thank you?” Kate wasn’t sure how to respond to that but was relieved that she wasn’t being made to do anything. “So where’d the guards take you this morning?”

“I can’t say.” Yelena said with no further elaboration. 

Kate nodded. “Oh…ok. Well, can you say why?”

“No.” Yelena was giving nothing. 

Kate was having a hard time trying to figure out how to navigate this conversation but kept trying. “How’s Black Widow? Running a gang can't be easy.”

“She’s good.” Yelena was really giving nothing. 

The archer tapped her fingers and tried to think of another possible conversation starter. “Talk about anything interesting?”

“No.”

“...come across any trouble on your way back?” Kate felt like she was running out of things to ask. 

Yelena was equally perplexed by the intense row of questions she was being asked. It reminded her of being a willing-captive of people she was supposed to get information off of and then assassinate. “No. Why do you interrogate me, Kate Bishop?”

Kate worried she’d said something wrong. “Well I’d like to catch up…” she explained, but then she understood what wasn’t being said. “...but you want me to do that thing don’t you?”

“I do.” Yelena nodded. “But only if you want to.”

Kate’s pulse quickened and she bit her lip. “...I kind of do.” Look, she was just starting to explore her sexuality. While it wasn’t an act that immediately sprang to mind when she thought of what lesbian sex entailed- wait why was that something she’d thought about before prison? Which, pondering that question really made some things make sense. How in denial had she been?! 

“Ha! I told Natasha you would want to. She owes me ten cigarettes.” Yelena was already undressing and pulling her underwear off, leaning over the bottom bunk with her arse presented to Kate. 

Kate was distracted by the sight of Yelena’s generous rear, but couldn’t help but ask: “How did you know?”

“You lost your virginity with me. It makes sense you would want to explore all of my body.” Yelena said matter of factly. It was no surprise that someone would find her attractive.  

Out of principle Kate had to set the record straight. “You know I wasn’t a virgin, right?” She’d been with others, just not other women. 

“You are so funny, Kate Bishop.” Yelena laughed, finding her cellmate very amusing. There was no way Kate wasn’t a virgin before they slept with each other.  

Kate furrowed her brow, somewhat annoyed. “No seriously. I wasn’t a virgin.”

“The joke is stale now.” Yelena really wanted to start already. 

Kate sighed, trying to figure out what was so unbelievable about it. It wasn’t like she was Cassie Lang who was extremely innocent. She was a cool Olympic level archer…if not better. Sure she didn’t know much about surviving in prison, but she had some world experience. “I’m not joking!” She insisted. 

“...ok” Yelena’s tone clearly conveyed that she didn’t believe her but was simply just trying to get Kate to move on. Fearing that it was too subtle, she added: “Now put your tongue in my crack.”

The archer internally debated whether or not it was worth pushing the topic but decided there was no point. She’d find a way to prove it…somehow. Kate got on her knees, her face pressed against Yelena’s behind. “Do I just start licking or…”

Yelena had closed her eyes expecting to feel Kate start, only to get a weird ass kiss. “Yes. You will figure it out fast.”

Kate pushed her tongue out until its wet tip entered Yelena’s crack. Her whole body was filled with a sensation of the utmost disgust…and yet she was kind of turned on. She tried to not think about what was happening specifically as she slowly ran her tongue down the crease in fear that it would kill her mood. She applied more pressure and she could feel her tongue bend along as she worked her way along her new girlfriend’s ass. 

—————————————————————

“Ok, maybe I was wrong. Let’s never go to the yard again.” Kitty stumbled along, exhausted after giving Illyana three rounds of oral. 

Similarly exhausted, Rogue only groaned in response as she came shambling behind her girlfriend like a reanimated corpse that had long since entered rigor mortis and was being held together by stray strings of muscle and sinew. She’d have been flattered by how undead she looked…if she hadn’t been too tired to walk. Illyana was a brand new form of being the worst after getting a serious beatdown from Captain Marvel. And the guards had been completely useless as ever. 

There was only one place to go where they could rest and it wasn’t their cell (where Illyana may show up at any moment), the rec room. 

Entering the room, they navigated towards the coach where Kitty wished aloud: “Please don’t be occupied. Please don’t be occupied. Please don’t be occupied…yay.” Even Kitty’s ‘yay’ sounded almost as deadpan as Rogue’s normal tone. But at least the seat was vacant. And so they collapsed into the worn down cushions.

“How does she like have that much energy?” Kitty asked aloud, not expecting a response. Illyana was a freak of nature if she somehow had enough stamina to work in the mines, torment Rogue and Kitty, and bully Dani and Rahne. 

Rogue simply stared glass-eyed at the appalling pantomime playing on the television in front of them. An episode of I Love Lucy! A feel-good nightmare of smiles and jokes. A demented, formulaic, lobotomy-lust inducing, monochromatic half hour of vintage television that she’d seen play on the tv almost every single day since her incarceration started, a marathon broken up only by Bewitched and The Dick Van Dyke Show. She hadn’t loathed any of the shows upon first viewing, but after seeing them every single day?

The gothic mutant was aware that she was probably only this annoyed by it because of the day she’d had, but she needed something to vent her frustration at. “If I hear one more canned laugh I’m gonna cut my ears off with a crayon.” Crayons were the only form of writing utensil inmates at The Raft were permitted to use due to safety hazards. 

Kitty only cringed at that graphic mental imagery. 

Staring hatefully at the scene unfolding on the screen, Rogue resolved to do something she’d never done before; shut the tv off. Just for a bit. Wanda wasn’t even in the room. It wasn’t fair that just because the witch was Jean Grey’s bitch that she somehow had complete dominion over what everyone got to watch at all times. 

Rogue stood and she turned it off. The screen went dark and she felt a small semblance of peace. A semblance of peace that wouldn’t last long as, continuing the theme of the couple’s day, someone emerged into the room behind her. But it wasn’t Illyana this time. No, it was much worse. Wanda Maximoff. 

Wanda had a specific grudge against Rogue. If you remember the last main chapter, it was Rogue who she believed to be responsible for breaking the tip off one of her mops and she still was very much under that impression. So to now have the brat shut off the one thing outside the kitchen she controlled was an immediate grave insult that could only be met with drastic action. This was, according to her, Rogue’s second offense and there would be no third. She had to pay. 

Chaos itself circled an enraged Wanda Maximoff as her fingers twirled with the unmistakable silent casting of a hex. Neither reasoning or pleading could stop the witch’s wrath. There was a madness about her that was manic, the purest form of true inner-turmoil. Things had changed. She’d changed. Where once she was a grieving widow and mother, now only remained a damaged witch. If she couldn’t escape the prison of Jean’s abuse she would make everyone else equally miserable. The prison bitch who cowered to the ungrateful idiots who mistreated her was no more. 

“On. Your. Knees.” She commanded in a tone far more dominant than she’d been in awhile. The fury of the degradation she’d experienced coursed through her. Her eyes were hollows of madness, her hair broken, split, and knotted. She’d looked this way for years, but only now it seemed to give her a truly frightening glow. 

Rogue spun around and refused, fighting back against the sensation of chains that had wrapped around her body. Wanda wouldn’t tell her again. With a flick of her wrist she pushed her into the position of subservience and approached. 

Kitty jumped out of her seat and did the first thing that came to mind. She tried to calm the situation. “Look, I’m sure we can um talk this out, yeah? You don’t have to go all aggro on her.” She practically jumped out of her skin as Wanda furiously turned to her, looking absolutely terrifying. “...P-Please let go of my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Wanda questioned. She didn’t realise Rogue had a loved one. That gave her an idea. “You want me to let your girlfriend go? Fine. But you’ll be punished instead.” If Rogue thought she could come in and mess with what Wanda loved, Wanda would hurt who Rogue loved. There definitely was no false equivalency between a cheap television and a person. 

“Wait what?!” Kitty exclaimed too late as her jumpsuit fell off her body and Wanda was upon her. “We’ll just turn on your tv…”

That would have seemed like a reasonable solution…to a person who wasn’t depressed, grieving, abused, and recently raped. Wanda was all of those things though and so Kitty’s offer was met with her utmost disinterest. “It’s too late for that now.” The witch said slowly, making each word ominous. 

“I-It really isn’t. I can just turn it back on.” Rogue explained, trying to reach for the button as the spell over her lifted. 

But Wanda absolutely wasn’t having it. “Touch it again and the guards won’t be able to save you before I’ve removed your fingers.”

Rogue considered just tapping Wanda on the cheek, a simple touch that would have left the witch in agony. But Rogue had been there when The Phoenix attacked Carol for harming Wanda without her permission and there was no way anything Wanda planned on doing to them at this moment would be worse than The Phoenix’s wrath. 

Wanda spun her hand and took a step back with her arm still around Kitty. "I could hold you down now and do whatever I want to you. But that isn't the kind of lesson that teaches people.” Wanda twirled her fingers and Rogue watched as Kitty was bent over so her ass stuck up high into the air. 

"Hurt her and I’ll kill you" threatened Rogue no matter how powerless she was. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone…” Wanda looked solemn, almost sympathetic. Something in her seemed so exhausted and yet fierce at the same time. “...But I’ll do whatever it takes to make you leave me alone.”

Rogue didn’t see any of that though. She simply saw a mad witch who wanted to hurt her girlfriend for an absurdly minimal reason. Crossing her arms, she asked: “What do you want me to do?”  

"I’ve learned in the years since I first came here that a problem with prison is privacy. I’m sure you’ve noticed already, but you just can't do anything without being watched. It’s important that you get over people watching you. Masturbate." Wanda remembered how Rogue had previously touched herself to the sight of Wanda being abused by Jean and it seemed almost poetic to make her do it as a punishment. 

"Excuse me?" Rogue asked, hoping she had misheard. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d explored herself in front of others (prison showers were an isolating experience for her and there was something undeniably exciting about seeing someone get claimed), but she didn’t just do it for anyone. Especially not Jean Grey’s bitch. 

Wanda coldly said: "Take your clothes off, lie on the floor, and masturbate or I will shove my fist up your girlfriend.” 

"Are you serious?" exclaimed Rogue.

"What I had on the tv wasn’t good enough for you, so now you will entertain me." Said Wanda with a foreboding flatness. The rest of the room laughed and now adjusted their seats to get a better view. "So either I watch you pleasure yourself or you watch your Kitty’s tight little asshole get stretched out." The words she was saying felt alien to Wanda, like she was not even herself. She was basically just copying the kind of talk the dominant prison mommy’s used, but had no idea if she was doing it right. It felt weird but kind of good.

“It’s fine, Rogue! You don’t have to! Let her fist me!” Kitty said, heart racing as they were put into this terrible position. 

Rogue suddenly looked like a massive weight had just been taken off her shoulders. “Really?” She asked, relieved. If Kitty was willing to take the punishment, who was she to stop her?

“No! I was just like saying that to be polite! Please don't let her fist me!" exclaimed Kitty, annoyed that she had to spell it out for her girlfriend. “You’re like the worst girlfriend ever!” She, of course, didn’t mean that in anything beyond jest and knew Rogue would understand that. 

"I’m losing patience. Make your decision.” Wanda was moments away from deciding for herself. And her decision would have been to make Rogue publicly humiliate herself and shove her fist up Kitty. They deserved both for daring to touch her tv. This would show them and anyone else who was stupid enough to try the same. This was obviously a normal reaction to such a thing.

Rogue looked over to her girlfriend, her small round ass looked so vulnerable in the hands of Wanda. The thought of what it would be like to have a fist inside her made the goth wince. All around the other women were now gazing at her like lionesses waiting to be thrown their food. Wanda stared at her and Rogue imagined what it would be like to have the witch straddle Kitty’s face, forcing her to lick that bristly bush. There was no way Kitty could possibly forgive her if she chose to refuse. 

"Ok..." Rogue whispered.

"What was that?" Asked Wanda.

Rogue wanted to tell Wanda that she couldn’t wait to see her sobbing after the next time Jean abused her, but was terrified of what the witch might do in response. "I said ok... I’ll do it.”

"Tell me exactly what you are going to do" demanded Wanda, seemingly without taking any pleasure in what she was subjecting Rogue and Kitty to. This was simply justice. 

"I will masturbate in front of you…” Rogue took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. It didn't help. She knew she was trembling. With shaking hands, she pulled her jumpsuit down, revealing her pale breasts. All eyes in the room were on her taking her in, staring at every piece of her body. She felt her skin go flush and her cheeks burned. She felt entirely exposed. Helpless. And yet the thought of what she had to do next kind of excited her. Her nipples began to tighten and go hard. She felt a flow of warmth descend between her legs. 

"On the floor.”  Said Wanda and Rogue obeyed. "Spread your legs."

Rogue sat on the floor, her knees together. She could feel the dampness start to trickle out of her. 

"If you don't spread them…" Wanda licked her middle finger and pressed it against the pucker of a very scared Kitty’s rectum. Rogue opened her legs. Wanda pulled her finger away and sat back down in her chair with Kitty sat naked on her knee, right in front of Rogue. “Begin.” The witch commanded, echoing a word she’d heard from Jean countless times before. 

Rogue reached down and with two fingers started to make circles around the top of her labia. She looked up and saw Kitty and Wanda staring down at her, focussed on her pussy. Her body continued to react, her nipples now stood sharp as a bed of nails and her juices squelched between her fingers and started running down her body. 

Wanda took hold of Kitty’s slim waist and started to pull her backward and forwards driving the girl's ass into her own crotch.

All around Rogue could see hands vanishing into orange jumpsuits and starting to move up and down. Now she kind of knew what it was like to be on the receiving end when she watched women like Karen Page being turned into bitches. Quite honestly, she regretted nothing…but at least she knew what it was like now.

Wanda moaned as Kitty’s ass was now obviously hitting the right spot. Rogue closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was by herself in her room at X-Mansion. She slipped a finger into her pussy and a slight moan of her own escaped her lips.

Rogue started to slide her fingers in and out, slowly at first but gaining speed. She could now hear moans and gasps all around. She opened her eyes to see some of the women had begun outright fingering themselves, their eyes fixed on her. She looked up and saw Wanda had pulled her own jumpsuit down to her knees and was rubbing Kitty’s ass directly onto her clit. 

Rogue could also see Kitty’s wetness pooling onto Wanda’s leg. Not that Wanda seemed to mind. It was far from the first time she’d had another woman’s cum on her body. Kitty’s nipples were now solid and when she saw Rogue looking up at her, she cupped her own breasts and then rolled her nipples between her fingertips. 

The erotic sight and sounds drove Rogue to finger herself harder and to use her other hand to spread her pussy lips and rub her clit directly. She felt her body tense. She was close. She heard a cry as another one of the inmates reached her climax, this instantly triggered another girl to call out as well.

Wanda made ragged breaths as she pulled Kitty even closer into her. Then Wanda stood up, lifting Kitty as she did. She then pushed Kitty down and bent her over the armrest, her butt once again sticking into the air. Rogue couldn’t help but take in the sight of the witch. Her butt was round and looked so soft to touch. Wanda then mounted Kitty, lowered her pussy onto the valley girl's arse and then started grinding down on her, using the leverage of her stance to drive her womanhood hard against Kitty’s ass. Kitty moaned slightly and took it.

This sight was too much for Rogue and she felt the tension release as her hips spasmed up and she came hard, sending a spray of juices out across the rec room floor. 

That was enough to get Wanda over the line. She threw back her head, driving herself hard and slow against Kitty’s ass then cried out in Sokovian. Her frail body trembled then buckled and she fell back into the chair, legs spread wide. She sat back to catch her breath and gently rubbed Kitty’s butt, slick with her cum.

Rogue felt her body settle down from its high. Around the room, those inmates who had not yet done so started to finish with gasps and moans. 

"That wasn't so bad.” Wanda said and then shoved Kitty at Rogue, who just barely caught her. "You've learned your lesson and can go. But don’t ever touch my tv again.”

————————— End Credit Scene ————————- 

“...She went full House of M on me! Except hopefully without the complete character assassination that ruins her character for the next decade. But that’s not my point. Laura, I can’t cum. Chastity! I have a chastity curse! Me! I’m going to starve to death! My pussy already burns.” Gwendolyn Poole ranted as she lay on the bottom bunk, having been carrying on a one-sided conversation for well over half an hour now. 

Laura Kinney, ears covered with her pillow, growled. She’d hoped Gwen would get tired of her own voice…or at least get the hint that she wasn’t interested in talking. Apparently neither was happening anytime soon though. “Shut up.”

Hearing Laura's voice after so long only made Gwen perk up. “There’s one way you could get me to shut up and it rhymes with hex…”

“No.” Laura said flatly. 

Gwen made a pouty expression and then pleaded: “Please…”

“Go to sleep.” Laura said in her ‘I’m going to claw you if you don’t leave me alone’ voice. 

There was silence. Sweet blissful silence. Gwen was actually quiet. Laura exhaled in relief and then shut her eyes in an attempt to meet the warm embrace of sleep. She’d had a long day, including meeting with Warden Valentina to join some top secret government project, but at least it was over. Just as she was about to drift off, Gwen exclaimed:

“Chastity!”

Chapter Text

Kamala Khan knew the risks when she fought crime as Ms. Marvel despite the Sokovia Accords, but that didn't mean she liked the fact that the consequences had finally caught up to her.

She'd been upset when she was arrested, sad when her identity was revealed to the world, and utterly terrified when she received a sentence of thirty years in prison, but Kamala had had a lot of time to think, and despite the rather invasive intake procedure, she was determined to make the most of her new life at the Raft.

Mostly that was by taking comfort in the knowledge she'd be surrounded by superheroes at all times, her favorite people in the world! And above all, she was so excited to finally meet Carol Mother Freaking Danvers!

Which brought her to where she was now, standing in the yard looking a little aimless. Unlike most new arrivals, Kamala’s arrival at the prison came around midday and so the guards told her she had a significant amount of time before her cell was actually ready. A fact she didn’t mind though because that simply meant she could acclimate herself to her new environment for a bit. 

Being completely honest with herself, it was a bit oppressive standing in what was basically a courtyard surrounded by tall metallic walls and barbed wire…but she found it hard to focus on the negative details for long when right in front of her Natasha Romanoff was sitting on a bench talking to someone who Kamala didn’t recognise. 

“Please, Elektra! I’m sorry!” A voice suddenly cried to the right, instantly pulling Kamala’s attention away from Black Widow. The source was Karen Page being grabbed by the hair and forcefully being bent over face-first against a bench. 

Kamala gasped at the sight, taking a step back as if that would take her out of the situation. Still, she couldn't keep her eyes off of what was happening.

She'd heard jokes and rumors about the kind of things that went on in prison, but had always believed they weren't true.

“Sorry for what?” Elektra, Karen’s assailant/prison mommy questioned as she shoved her ex’s new lover as hard as she could while using her other hand to play with the zipper of Karen’s jumpsuit. 

“F-For saying Matt liked me more…” Karen stammered, pale face blushing as her clothes came undone and Elektra reduced her down to nothing more than her prison-issued panties. 

Kamala reacted without thinking, stuck in her superhero mindset as she ran towards Elektra before pushing her away. She then stood in front of the half-naked Karen, shielding her from her attacker. "I don't know what this was about, but that's a terrible thing to do to someone!"

Elektra snickered, looking at the adorably stupid girl trying to interrupt her playtime with Karen. “And who the fuck are you?” She jeered. 

Kamala blushed, realizing she may be in over her head. With her powers gone thanks to the collar she was forced to wear, she really didn't know if she'd be able to take Elektra down. But she put on a brave face and stood her ground. "I'm... Ms. Marvel."

“Well congrats, Ms. Marvel, because you’re going to be my new bitch.” Elektra, unintimidated, said as she came in to grab the annoying dork by her collar. 

Kamala wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew it wasn't good. She quickly pushed Karen out of the way and dodged Elektra's attack, taking a few steps back with her arms raised. "Can we pretend this never happened?"

A couple of nearby guards just chuckled as they watched the show, eager to watch the new girl get claimed.

A deadly assassin, Elektra was violent on a good day. But today wasn’t a good day. She was overworked, angry, and overtired (although that was her fault since she chose to spend most of the previous night tormenting her submissive cellmates). She was more than well trained enough to strike and make sure Kamala didn’t dodge this time…but she took the girl’s resilience as a personal offence. And so instead of just dealing with her in a normal way, Elektra unzipped her jumpsuit and produced from her underwear a shiv she’d made out of plastic cutlery. 

That's when the guards took off running, grabbing Elektra's arms and pinning them behind her back.

One guard wrestled the shiv out of her hand, then they both began dragging her away, all while an already traumatized Kamala looked on. "Does that happen... often here?"

“Weekly.” Karen tiredly replied, looking on with satisfaction at the sight of Elektra being dragged away while shouting obscenities at her arrestors. 

Kamala turned around to face the woman, giving her a shaky smile as she extended her hand. "Kamala Khan. I'm the new girl." She figured this woman could be a good friend. She seemed nice enough.

There was a pause before Karen ultimately decided not to shake Kamala’s hand. “I’m Karen. Thank you for trying to help…but I don’t think Elektra should see us getting close.” She knew the assassin would punish her when she came back from the hole and Karen didn’t want to make it worse for herself. 

Kamala frowned, hopes for a friendship with her fading. "Is she like your boss or something? Is she your gang leader? She'll shank you in your sleep if you don't do what she says?" She said this with a sympathetic cringe, unable to imagine living in fear like that. 

Karen sorrowfully nodded, hating every single second of incarceration. And, as much as she appreciated this rare moment of sympathy, she was terrified of the inevitable consequences. 

Kamala hated how sad this woman looked, giving her a quick and tight hug before stepping away. "I hope you find a way out of her gang." She then ran away, eager for a happier interaction, so she chose to introduce herself to the one and only Black Widow next!

Natasha clocked the stranger approaching almost immediately and just as quickly assessed that they weren’t a threat…which was not a good sign. The last time she’d had a non-threat come up to her they were Gwendolyn Poole and she wasn’t anticipating crushing a fangirl’s spirit again. 

Kamala stared at Natasha for a moment, a quiet squeal leaving her mouth like a slowly deflating balloon, until she finally erupted into a series of excited rambles. Nat could barely make out words like 'hero' and 'such an honor,' but most of it was essentially gibberish. You would almost think she was at a comic-con and not in prison. "...and I'm just your biggest fan!"

Natasha had a lot of biggest fans, #1 fans, self-proclaimed ‘stans,’ and pretty much any other descriptive of people who adored her. Personally, given everything she’d done prior to becoming an Avenger, she didn’t understand why anyone would look up to her, but she never was one to challenge it. It was kind of nice that people saw her in a positive way she didn’t. “Well I’m honoured to meet you. I don’t have a lot of fans in prison. Especially one as…enthusiastic as you.”