Life With Alpha: Unexpected Visitors, Further StoriesChapter 4: Marvel Divas free porn video

Codes: MF, MF+, MC, SciFi, anime, cartoon, comic book

Disclaimer: All artificial persons/dimensional visitors herein are based on characters owned by their creators, not the author. This chapter focuses on characters from Marvel, specifically the four leads of a little-known four issue series called Marvel Divas.

Author’s Note: This is not a canon Life With Alpha story, meaning events here happen in their own universe splitting off separately from the main story. This story begins over a year and a half after the first Unexpected Visitors, which itself is set after Chapter 15 in the first Life with Alpha series. I strongly recommend that you read the main story before reading this side story.

(shortly after Mighty Endowed’s arrival)

“So, if we’re being watched by someone or something from...” I waved my hands uselessly in the air, “ ... somewhere else, does that mean I can make requests? Like, send me someone whose powers actually work?”

“While it is possible such requests might be observed, I would not recommend trying. Even if the requests are granted, such wishes are likely to have unforeseen consequences and would also indicate that you are a willing participant in the situation.”

“Good point. I withdraw my previous statement,” I said out loud, speaking loudly and clearly for any listening entities to hear.

But it was too late. Two weeks later saw another set of arrivals and one of the two worst unintended results of the entire farce I call my life. Sorry, that was a bit harsh. My life is often awesome, but it feels like it’s no longer under my control, which causes frustration.

The arrival point was by the lake, and, in retrospect, if they had arrived at the house instead, it’s possible the worst of the problems could have been avoided.

At that time, I was at the office, where I got an arrival alert, as normal, along with Alpha’s best guess as to who they were: Monica Rambeau, Felicia Hardy, Angelica Jones and Patsy Walker. None of them were in costume, but Alpha guessed who they were because they were a known group of friends in Marvel comics.

I groaned aloud, glad that only Diana and Anna were with me at the time.

“What’s wrong?” asked Anna, who, since she didn’t yet have the new communications implants, hadn’t received the same message I had.

“Another new set of arrivals. Marvel’s answer to Sex and the City. I hate that show.”

“What show?” asked Diana, who didn’t watch much television.

“Hey, I love Sex and the City!” protested Anna.

“Never mind,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m not exactly the target audience for the show anyway...”

“True, but I think it’s still a great series, regardless of target audience.”

“What show?” repeated Diana.

“I’ll show you later,” reassured Anna.

“Anyway, I actually like the characters ... the Marvel characters, that is ... just fine. Heck, Nextwave is one of my top favorite comics ever, and I really enjoyed the early issues of New Warriors.”

“I’m completely lost. Would someone explain what you’re talking about?”

“Four new women arrived by the lake. Alpha thinks they’re the so-called ‘Marvel Divas’. Firestar, Black Cat, Captain Marvel...”

“Another Carol?” asked Diana, confused.

“I hope not,” muttered Anna quietly. She and Carol Danvers hadn’t gotten along ever since Anna had permanently absorbed Carol’s powers and memories and put her into a coma, which happened long ago in their home universe, before Anna joined the X-Men and became a hero.

“No, a different one. There have been a bunch of Captain Marvels. This one is ... or might be ... Monica Rambeau. She also goes by Photon, and I think she’s had a few other names. And I should point out that I have no clue what code name THAT version of Monica is using, it’s just that I first read about her under the Captain Marvel name, so that’s how I think of her.”

“Who’s the fourth?” asked Anna, trying to get me back on track.

“Patsy Walker. Sorry, Hellcat. And Firestar is Angelica Jones, and Black Cat is Felicia Hardy. But at this point we’re not even sure if that’s who...”

“Frank,” Alpha interrupted, speaking loudly on a public speaker, “one of them has just screamed and collapsed: Angelica Jones, if my guesses regarding their identities are correct.”

“Collapsed? Why?”

“Unknown, but her companions are attempting to revive her.”

“Who is on duty at the lake?”

“Karen, Jubilee and Kitty. They have been informed and are hurrying to the scene.”

To avoid drawing this out too long, yes, Alpha’s guess as to their identities was correct.

Waking and finding themselves transported to an unfamiliar landscape, Angelica was simply trying to fly up to get a bird’s eye view of the area. And astonishingly, her mutant power was functional -- which I blame myself for, given my wish from before.

The thing is that her power was the mutant ability to generate microwaves. In the comic book world, her powers would let her fly and fire off blasts of energy. Now that she was in the real world, this ability was simply extremely destructive to living flesh and provided no aerial lift whatsoever.

When she tried to use her powers to fly, she nearly killed herself. If the energy hadn’t been focused down, she might have killed one or more of the others.

It was fortunate that Jubilee and Kitty were two of the ones on duty, since they were quickly recognized by the newcomers and given a degree of trust without the traditional comic book first-meeting fight. This allowed them to rush Angelica into one of the lake house’s nanopods, which let Alpha save her life.

Given the situation (and my unspoken feelings of guilt), I quickly drove out to the lake house to greet the newcomers, something I rarely did anymore.

Upon entering the nanopod lab room, a very unfortunate smell of cooked meat permeated the air. Six women looked over at me as I walked up to the nanopod, and a couple of them moved aside a little to give me room.

Laid out before us was a woman with very short red hair, naked except for two thin white towels someone had strategically placed across her breasts and groin. Her legs and parts of her arms were a mottled brown and red, while most of her torso and her head were pale white. A breathing mask had been fitted over her mouth, and she took shallow but consistent breaths.

“I am so sorry this happened,” I said in lieu of greeting.

“Who are you, and what do you have to be sorry about?” asked a middle-aged black woman with her hair in ringlets.

“Monica Rambeau?” I asked. She nodded sharply. “My name is Frank, and I own the property. I ... Well, I didn’t cause this or bring you here, but I am sorry all the same. No one else’s powers have worked to this degree in this universe. Maybe we should have put up warning signs, but this is the first time anything like this has happened.”

“And what do you know about our powers?” asked a young, white-haired vixen who I assumed to be the Black Cat, aka Felicia Hardy, someone with minor powers at best. She was mostly just a skilled cat burglar, though I knew she had some kind of bad luck powers for a while. (I had mostly stopped reading Spider-man comics over a decade before, after the mess that resulted from the Clone Saga, so I didn’t have current details on her.)

“Just what I read in the comic books.”

“Comic books?”

“There’s a lot of information you need before we can have a full discussion. Right now ... Alpha, what’s her condition?”

“Miss Jones is alive and should remain so. I will need to completely regrow approximately 53% of the flesh on her arms and legs, and an additional 18% of the rest of her body will need significant repair. This will require a minimum of 81 hours in the nanopod. Additionally, I strongly recommend leaving her mutant abilities disabled to prevent a recurrence of this injury.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Disabling her abilities? I think that needs to be her decision,” protested Monica.

“If it only affected her, I would agree with you,” I said slowly. “But if we repair her completely, she could easily kill bystanders as well as herself if she cuts loose again. This time, since you told Kitty she was trying to fly, I’m guessing all the energy was focused down from her arms and legs. Next time, it might not be safely directed away from other people nearby.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said fiercely. “You don’t just do something like that without consulting her.”

“And if she panics when she wakes up? What then? Do you think she’d be happy if she accidentally kills...”

“If I might interrupt,” Alpha interjected loudly. “I believe you are proceeding from a misconception. I said I would prefer to leave her powers disabled, which I believe is their current status. Miss Jones has anomalous subcutaneous features running throughout much of her body, which I assume have been the source of her ability to emit microwaves. If that is the case, then her powers are already gone. Her initial use of her mutant abilities upon her arrival destroyed them all.”

“Gone?” asked the upright and healthy redhead. Patsy Walker, aka Hellcat, I assumed.

“Yes,” confirmed Alpha. “As it now stands, those anomolous features are receiving no blood flow and show every sign that they are nonviable tissue masses; effectively, they are cooked meat. She is most likely powerless. Since I am not familiar with how they work, any attempt at repair on my part would be purely experimental. Give her apparent capacity to create serious injury or potentially cause death, I am not willing to do so at this time.”

“Oh.”

“How long before she wakes up?” asked Felicia.

I noticed that none of them had any qualms or questions about conversing with an intelligent computer, which was common with comic-book-based visitors.

“I could bring her to consciousness right now, but she would likely be overwhelmed with pain...”

“No!” protested Patsy.

“Alternately, I could cut off all sensation below her neck, leaving her free from pain. I would also need to paralyze her, because any excessive movement or muscle strain would likely damage her body further and interrupt my repairs. However, if you are willing to wait 42 hours, I believe I can repair enough to fully stabilize her and wake her somewhat more naturally, though I recommend postponing until all repairs have been completed, which will require at least 81 hours, as I previously stated. Any interruption in her treatment will cause increasing delays in her bodily repairs.”

“Maybe...” began Monica, but paused in her comment long enough for Alpha to continue to expand upon her diagnosis.

“I have determined that she has recently undergone chemotherapy and surgery for breast cancer. While I am repairing the rest of her body, I can also remove the remnants of the cancer, repair the damage done by the cancer treatments and rebuild her natural breast tissue, though a full rebuild will add an extra day to her treatment.”

That seemed to cinch the deal. After a brief discussion, we all agreed to wait two days and then decide. Then we spent a couple hours discussing the newcomers situation. The pamphlets were kind of anti-climatic by the time we got around to them.

We were joined for a few hours by the rest of the Marvel contingent, who came to visit and show support for Angelica, but the lake house didn’t have the room to allow everyone to comfortably stay overnight, so most went back home shortly after nightfall.

About two hours before I went to bed, Alpha indicated she wanted to apprise me of some information, so I excused myself from the group for a few minutes.

“I wanted to inform you that Angelica’s physiology indicates a definite deviation from the comic book story line.”

“How so?” I asked.

“In the comics, she refused to get a mastectomy, instead opting solely for chemotherapy and removal of the tumor itself. However, this version of Angelica has breast implants and her body shows signs of chemotherapy treatments addressing cancer in other parts of her body.”

“So ... the cancer spread beyond the initial tumor for her, but not for the version of her in the comics?”

“Yes, though it is always possible that the cancer reappeared and spread further after the events of the Marvel Divas comic concluded. That is not supported by her occasional appearances in other comics, but no definitive timeline is available by which I can judge when various events took place in her lifetime.”

“Does the deviation make a difference?”

“Possibly not, but we do not know for certain.”

“Well, let’s go with the straightforward approach. I’ll let them read the comic and then ask. Heck, they were probably going to read all of their comics sooner or later anyway. Everyone always does.”

So saying, I gathered up three tablet computers -- two iPads and one Kindle Fire ... which meant very little, since all of our phones and tablets and desktops and laptops now used Alpha’s custom operating system -- and returned to the three conscious newcomers, along with the handful of other women remaining overnight.

“Hi, everybody!” I called out as I re-entered.

“Hi, Doctor Nick!” called out Jubilee in response. Everyone stared at her.

“It’s a joke from a popular cartoon series,” I explained. “And Jubilee’s response was perfectly used.” I nodded to the young mutant in appreciation.

“I have something for you three to read,” I said, handing each of them a tablet. “And when you’re done, I’d like to know how this comic deviates from your reality.”

“Comic?” asked Patsy.

“Well, you know ... that is, we’ve told you how, in this world, you’re all comic book characters, right?”

“Yeah, pretty weird, actually,” admitted Felicia.

“Well, specifically, there was a four issue limited series called Marvel Divas, which starred the four of you ... in addition to your various other individual and group comics. We’d just like to know how accurate it is,” I explained.

I then had to go and collect a few more tablets so Jubilee and Kitty and the others could read it too. I returned to hear common complaints being voiced while they read -- “I don’t look like that, do I?” “I would never wear that.” “I never said that.” “Who do these artists think they are?” and so on.

As they read, the comments became more specific, and the worst resulting argument went more-or-less as follows:

“Felicia, you didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?”

“Get a loan from the Kingpin!”

“That’s in here? I guess I’m not there yet. Well, none of the banks would give me a loan and there was no way I was going to take money from Thomas...”

“You did? How stupid are you?”

“Watch it. I make my own decisions. And who are you to lecture me about bad decisions.”

“At least I never got in debt to the biggest criminal on the East Coast!”

“Please!” I said loudly, interrupting the burgeoning fight. “Stress levels and emotions are running high at the moment. Don’t say something you might regret later.”

“Stay out of this,” warned Felicia, turning to me. “You have no ... right...” Her voice trailed off.

While it’s entirely unfair to all other men in the world, I enjoy the knowledge that these women are usually unable to get mad at me, or at least, unable to stay mad at me for long. (Otherwise, I’d be an idiot to interpose myself between two women getting ready to fight.)

“My main goal is to help where I can and to get information,” I said, trying to sound contrite. “Remember, we have people here from all over the multiverse, including duplicates of the same person,” I looked over at Karen as I said this, since I was specifically referring to Kara and herself. “ ... So it’s important to know who people are. In particular, right now, I’m just trying to find out who you are, in relation to...” Here I held up my tablet, displaying a page from the comic book. “ ... who these people are. And the last thing I want to do is endanger a friendship. Okay?”

Monica spoke up. “For the most part, this is pretty close to our world ... to us. Not exactly, but close enough most of the time. From what I’ve read so far, our Angelica had it worse than this other version we’re reading about, but she pulled through all right in the end. Or ... well, your computer said her cancer wasn’t completely gone, so maybe she ... Who knows? Maybe coming here and nearly killing herself accidentally will turn out better for her in the end.”

“I think I’m a little less slutty than this other version of me,” offered Felicia in a voice that became more challenging as she continued. “And I had a lawyer go over the whole contract word-by-word. The interest rates were slightly higher than what I’d have paid at a bank, but it was purely a business loan. No funny business. All right?”

“You know I’m ... we’re ... just worried for you, right?”

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

More comments and objections were forthcoming, but overall, the three of them admitted that the comic was more accurate than not.

Though it took me over an hour to do so, I finally fell asleep in one of the lake house bedrooms. Anna and Jubilee slept on either side of me, and, as none of us were in the mood for sex -- smelling burnt human flesh for a few hours is kind of a libido killer -- we simply comforted each other.

Sleep provided no respite. I remember my dreams were disturbing, but I only remember one image specifically:

I saw Giganta arrive at the lake house portal at her full fifty foot size and height, then she began to scream as her ankles and feet turned to bloody pulp as they were crushed, unable to support her overwhelming weight in our world. This continued all the way down, her body collapsing in slow motion, crumpling and mashing itself to death as she continued to scream, even after her lungs, neck and head were destroyed. I was standing too close and was covered in a wave of smothering flesh and blood.

I awoke breathing hard, remembering the nightmare of how powers would work in the real world.

Anna and Jubilee continued to sleep next to me, so at least I hadn’t awakened them. I was unable to go back to sleep ... or perhaps it was more likely that I was unwilling to risk the dreams again.

After lying awake for half an hour, I gave up on trying to sleep, carefully extricated myself from the bed without disturbing ... or at least, without waking ... the others, put on some short pajamas and a robe, and headed down to the lab.

The AC and ventilation had finally drawn the burnt flesh smell out of the basement, making the room much more livable.

The newcomers had set up a rotating watch, so that one of them would be with Angelica at all times. At the moment, Monica was there, relaxing on a love seat we had brought in for comfort. She looked up from a laptop as I entered.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I explained succinctly. “You comparing the history of this world with your own?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s something everyone does after they arrive. You have to figure out what’s familiar and what’s different. Maybe where the time lines diverged.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Coffee?” She gestured to a rather old-looking Mr Coffee someone had set up. Come to think of it, it might have been the same coffee machine we previously kept in the old cabin.

“No thanks. How are you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess. It’s a lot to take in. A lot to consider,” she said, sipping her coffee. Without any other transition, she added, “You know, I’m terrified of trying to use my powers here.”

“What? Shooting laser beams? Or turning into ... oh.”

“Right. Back home, I can convert my body into living energy. Make myself into an intelligent gamma ray laser, for instance. Here? Who knows.” She put the small laptop down on a nearby table.

“Well, you’re talking about turning solid matter into electromagnetic radiation. We do have something similar here. We call it a nuclear bomb,” I said as I sat down in the open spot to her left.

“That’s not quite the same thing...”

“I know, but you know that’s a comparison a reporter would make.”

“So ... you going to run back to your other home now, in case I blow myself up?”

“Nah. If you do explode, it would probably be powerful enough to wipe out all life in a much larger radius than that.” Alpha later assured me that I was way off base with that estimate. If she turned into pure antimatter? Sure. But exploding like a nuclear bomb? Nope, we’d probably be safe from the initial blast, if not the fallout. (Human flesh is MUCH less dense than radioactive elements like Plutonium or Uranium, making the discussion rather uncertain anyway.)

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t done anything to be sorry about. Yet.”

In a bit of personal familiarity that we did not have in the slightest, she put her coffee mug down, scooted over a bit and leaned back against me, nestling her head under my chin.

Seriously, THIS is a good example of what I have to deal with. There was no reason or relationship to support her actions, but snuggling up to someone she had known for less than a day apparently felt perfectly natural to her.

On the other hand, at least she wasn’t flashing cleavage or actively trying to seduce ... nope, hold on. She moved one hand to rest on my inner thigh, stroking me a bit through my pajamas. Thank goodness my member was down the other pants leg. Uh oh, not pants. Short pajamas. If I became erect, it would be very obvious. Or to be more accurate, WHEN I became erect.

Not having any ice water to dump in my lap, I decided to turn the conversation back to something more practical.

“If you’re seriously worried about the possibility, you can put yourself in the other nanopod and let Alpha take a look at you. If she can find any anomalies, she may be able to ... I don’t know ... disable them. While you’re here.”

She stopped stroking my thigh for a moment. “I ... I don’t know. I suppose it’s the responsible thing to do. I just don’t like the idea of losing my powers.”

“Playing the odds, you probably don’t have access to them right now anyway. On the other hand, if you had asked me yesterday if Firestar’s ability to generate microwaves would work in this world, I would have bet money she couldn’t do a thing.”

“I’ll play it safe for now.” She resumed stroking my thigh pensively, then drew in a deep breath and turned her head to look up at me from very close range. “Look, I don’t want you to think I do this all the time, but I think I could really use a ... ummm ... a distraction.”

With that, her hand moved to my other thigh and started stroking my cock. Obviously she had noticed its presence previously, because her hand went straight to it without even glancing down.

Mentally, I sighed. It wasn’t as though I was looking for more conquests. Not that I disliked her at all. Yes, she was somewhere in her late thirties or early forties, making her older than most of the women I hosted, but certainly not too old. Look, overall, I wish women would stop showing up, but on a one-on-one basis, I had no reason to refuse her. And she was attractive with a nice body.

“A distraction, huh? Let me think about it.” I moved a hand up to stroke her scalp, wiggling my fingers alongside her ringlets. While women don’t like it when you mess up their expensive hairdos, her hair style allowed me to lightly scrape my fingernails along her scalp, and I felt her shudder a bit as my fingertips brushed her forehead.

She turned her face up to mine, and I naturally bent down slightly to meet her lips. Despite the slow start, she definitely felt more hungry than romantic, as the kiss felt a bit like having my mouth devoured from the inside.

She swung herself over so she was sitting on my lap, her knees on either side of my waist. As I put my arms around her, her hands started pushing up my pajama top, then shifted to unbuttoning it instead. Since it only had four buttons, I was quickly bare chested.

My own hands pulled her blouse from from her pants in the back, and I moved them up under the fabric and against her skin. Her back was smooth and tight, and I could feel enough musculature to know she kept herself physically fit. When I came across her bra strap, I snapped it open fairly easily, demonstrating the experience I’ve accumulated when it comes to undressing women.

I made no immediate move to explore other parts of her anatomy, contenting myself with the feel of her skin, lips and tongue.

Monica was less content. After running her hands over my chest and lightly tweaking my nipples, she lifted her hips enough to reach down and free my cock. She raised her shirt in front and allowed my hard-on to slip inside it, so my member was rubbing against her belly, awkwardly masturbating me by pressing it between our bodies while she moved up and down.

While the idea was erotic, the buttons on her blouse were rubbing uncomfortably against rather sensitive parts of my skin, so I made enough room for my arms between our bodies to allow me to unbutton her shirt, then slide it off, followed by her bra.

Her breasts appeared to be a nice C cup, topped with perfectly round, dark pink nipples. When she saw me look at them, she cupped them and raised them to my face. With such a lovely offering, I couldn’t refuse. I spent a couple minutes sucking and licking and playing with her nipples while she ... actually, all she did was hold her breasts up and move them around for me. Once I realized that, I took control of the boob lifting and adjusting jobs, allowing her to do her own thing. She used the opportunity to caress my face and play with my hair.

That went on long enough that I started to worry that something might be wrong. Then, while I was simultaneously sucking one nipple while circling it with my tongue and running my thumb across her other nipple, she shuddered slightly and pulled my head against her breast tightly for a minute. Finally, she released me and sat back on my knees.

“Wow, that was ... I’ve never come just from tit play.”

“Really?” I asked. I had considered it to still be foreplay, and I was pretty sure we hadn’t taken moe than 10, maybe 15 minutes.

“Well, it wasn’t a huge orgasm or anything, it just kind of ... built up.”

“That’s neat, but I bet we can do better.”

“Damn right, you better,” she agreed rather forcefully.

Maybe ninety seconds later, we were both naked, and I was kneeling on the floor between her legs as she sat on the love seat. The cunnilingus was her idea, since once we were naked, she had grabbed my hair and forcibly guided my head to her pussy. Or I suppose you could say it was mutually agreed upon, since I probably would have started out that way regardless.

As I remembered, her various superhero outfits didn’t show as much skin as most costumes, but they were skin tight, which was one of the common reasons why female superheroes tended to keep their pubic regions shaved. (If I may break from the eroticism briefly, the skin near her pussy was a bit prickly, meaning she needed another shave.)

Her vagina had thick outer lips, with delicate-looking pink inner lips pushing out. As I gently pulled it open, I couldn’t help but notice that the classic description of a curtain was completely appropriate in this case, and I used my tongue to push between those curtain-like folds in search of treasures inside. I quickly found the vaginal opening and, shortly thereafter, discovered a surprisingly small clitoris peaking out up top.

While her clit might have been small, it was very sensitive, as evidenced by the way she pulled me tightly into her when I began playing with the little nub. If I hadn’t been in need of a shave myself, I might have rubbed and pushed my chin against her lower lips while my mouth focused on her bud, but as it was, I was left using my tongue, lips and fingers as the only real sources of stimulation. Still, it was enough. With some dedicated work and focused attention, I had her coming in less than five minutes. Then again a minute later. And again another minute later.

While her orgasms didn’t flow together into a single climax, as with some women I’ve eaten out, she was definitely multi-orgasmic. I finally stopped after her fourth come.

“Be right back.” I let her recover while I darted away, looking for a condom. I was met on the stairs by an Alphadroid carrying a box. A quick hand-off and thank you later, I was back in front of Monica, hurriedly rolling a rubber onto my very hard penis.

“Ready?” I asked.

I think she was still mentally foggy, but she responded by spreading her legs wider, which I took as agreement.

Even though the love seat wasn’t an ideal fucking couch, her hips were at approximately the right height for me when kneeling, so I knelt in front of her and slid into place inside her.

That first entry inside a woman is always special, as the man discovers a new wet, warm home for his manhood, and this time was no exception.

She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me in close, so I was fully seated with a single smooth stroke. As soon as I hit bottom, she leaned forward and rather aggressively pulled me into a deep kiss, with her tongue seemingly trying to grab onto my own and pull it loose.