Natasha Romanov, the secretive Black Widow, peeked around the corner. Her expert eyes quickly assessed all the possible threats in the old mental asylum’s hallway, and found them lacking. That didn’t fill her with confidence. A trap she couldn’t see wasn’t necessarily a trap lacking. She jogged down the hall, senses deployed in every direction, gun at the ready.
The sounds of battle echoed from in outside. The Avengers tried valiantly to contain Gretta Rabin’s army of followers. But each of those foot soldiers were civilians, whose minds had been overcome by Rabin’s mutant abilities. They were innocent people who would fight to the last breath, unless Rabin herself was taken out. That’s where the Black Widow came in.
Natasha wished that she could wear one of the psionic scrambles that Tony designed, but unfortunately-
“-it throws off such unpleasant static.”
Natasha froze. That was Rabin’s voice, broadcasting at a distance, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Natasha reached to turn on the scrambler attached to the back of her neck. But her fingers refused to touch the controls.
“Please, Natasha, think of me as Gretta. I want us to be friends.”
Natasha grunted in frustration. “Lady, you got some sick ideas about friendship.”
Despite fighting the commands, Natasha reached up – arm jerking mechanically – and pulled the scrambler off her neck and tossed it to the ground. She grimaced at the effort. Her arm with the gun swung around and blasted the scrambler to bits. Her arm snapped out and threw the gun down the hall.
“Rabin, listen-“
“I told you to call me Gretta.”
“R-R-Raaaaahhh…” Natasha’s eyes fluttered. “Gretta, please, listen to me. You can’t win this. Your powers won’t save you. You can’t beat the Avengers. Give yourself up before anyone needs to die.”
“Ah, well, you probably are right. I can’t beat your little toys… right now. But lucky for me, I get to make my escape with a nice consolation prize.”
“Let me go!” Natasha tried to move. Her legs froze in place.
“Does the prospect horrify you? I’m hurt. Don’t you know that I can make this fun?”
A warm buzz traveled up through Natasha’s crotch to her belly. She gasped, knees shaking but feet still, as heat rocked her insides. She huffed and puffed. Everything inside her leather suit felt tight and tender.
“Then why not take it off? Enjoy yourself?”
Natasha groaned. Her hands, distant from her mind, undid the front of her jumpsuit. Her nipples responded eagerly to the cold air. She began to tease herself roughly. One hand clenched a nipple to the point of the pain, while the other tried to stimulate her groin through the leather. She began to slap at it when rubbing did nothing.
“Greta, oh god, please, no, stop this-!”
“Say that again.”
“Greta, oh god, please,” Natasha squeaked in a vapid, girlish voice. “No, stop this-!”
“That’s better. You sound so much cuter now. Don’t you want to be cute for me, Nattie?”
Nattie – Natasha? No – Natasha who was Nattie who was still pretending her name was Natasha, she felt so confused, so kept think in circles… It was so much easier to think wear adorable petticoats for Miss Gretta, glittery collars and sultry make-up and all those magic touches that little girls wore to make themselves into fuckable women… Nattie bit her lip until it drew blood. Maybe she could use this. She could use her horny, slutty body to keep the big, bad, sex supervillain distracted until the Avengers found them. Even a soft-brained lovepuppet like Nattie could let Mistress Gretta taste her naughty honeypot, kiss Mistress Gretta’s toes with her pillow lips, bury her pretty idiot face in Mistress Gretta’s perfect ass-
The elevator at the end of the hall opened. Gretta Rabin stepped out. Black Widow snapped to attention. Her mind went still and silent.
Rabin was a slip of a girl, barely into her twenties. The fashionable suit hung just a little loose on her waifish frame. She strolled over to wear Natasha had thrown the gun and picked it. Then, Rabin sauntered over to the blank-headed Widow. She examined Natasha’s exposed breasts with amusement. She kiss her finger and pressed it into the redden nipple Natasha had been manhandling, before zipping up the front of Natasha’s jumpsuit. She gave Natasha a smack on the rear with her gun.
“I trust you know a safe way out, Ms. Romanov.”
“Yes, ma’am. Right this way, ma’am.”
Spinning on her heels, Natasha led the young Ms. Rabin back the way she came. She in the back of Natasha’s head told her that Rabin was watching her ass and she put a little more roll into her hips. For some reason, her cunt screamed for attention.
MCM Drabbles 