He thrust into her like a beast, with no tenderness and even less romance. She cried out in subdued pain, yet also moaned in lustful desire. She was so happy she'd finally found the man of her dreams. The man who filled all her needs and desires. Granted...it
had cost her much. As the former Kitty Pryde threw her head back and gasped out another scream of passion, her mane of dyed-blond hair cascaded out like a waterfall of gold. She opened her eyes and laughed in lusty delight, her bright blue contacts shining.
Again her new husband tossed her to the bed and flipped her over, plowing deep into her bottom with his enormous cock. She screamed and grabbed the bed sheets in her hands, her long, dagger-like nails glittering with blood-red polish...the wedding ring he'd
given her (a heavy golden band set with a swastika of blood diamonds) winking in the light. He plowed into her like a Hun, conquering her instead of loving her. She groaned and cried out "Oh, Albrecht Krieger!" in a voice that dripped with Germanic accents.
She always spoke German these days, unless she had to speak English...and if she did, she husked and growled her way through it like a smokey-voiced Cabaret singer. She'd been told she sounded just like Marlena Dietrich, and with her new surgeries 'correcting'
her facial imperfections (that big, ugly nose...her eyes...thinning her lips) she now looked much more like Marlena Dietrich than Kitty Pryde.
Finally, her husband finished again, and she moaned in pained delight as he drew out of her, standing over her and gloating. "You fuck like an honest, German woman now, mein wife. Und you look...perfect."
"Danke, mein husband..." she said throatly, lighting a cigarette and slipping it into a long, black holder. She drew the rich smoke deep into her lungs, and smiled at him. The smile was curel. Naturally cruel. She'd spent so much time trying to be worthy
of Albrecht Krieger - the infamous 'Captain Nazi' of legend - and part of that had involved scrubbing out all her simple, silly 'Jewish' flaws. She'd undergone deep hypnosis, extensive surgeries and long weeks of training with voice and language coaches...all
to correct her. And now...
She was muscular and strong, but still very womanly...her huge, surgiclly constructed breasts looking just perfect. She rose and slipped into a sexy, vampish costume that looked like one half her old 'Shadow Cat' and one half 'Nazi Dominatrix' and she
went to him, pressed her lush, sexy body against him, loved him...as only she could. He'd been so good to her...helping her 'correct' her flaws so she'd be worthy of him...helping her abandon her old identity and construct a new one. She smiled...no longer
simple, foolish 'Kitty Pryde', but rather coldly sadistic 'Katheryne Krieger'. the infamous 'Frau Schatten' or 'Madame Shadow'.
Her parents didn't understand...nor did her former teammates...only her husbands friends understood her. The Red Skull. Baron Zemo. Baron Strucker. Such heroic and wonderful people. She stroked her belly, knowing that a child would be growing there
A tiny corner of her mind was disgusted by her actions...ashamed and horrified...but it was shrinking. Most of her was her husbands loyal, devoted Nazi wife...
Her husband was so handsome. So very handsome. Carol Cobblepot snuggled close to her husband, his body delightfully round and soft. She loved everything about him. His proud nose. His stately waddle. Even the cute way he'd chortle and 'wak' as he spoke.
She'd started to do the same thing these days, and as she lounged around their house, eating (she was starting to get plump) just like he did, dressed in her costly, feather-trimmed gowns and smoking the same cigarettes her husband smoked, she'd think that
she had finally found happiness. Few people understood the joys in surrendering your identity to your husband so utterly, that the life between 'wife' and 'twin' became blurred.
Granted...she had a few friends. Diana Fisk and she often met for huge lunches as they gossiped about their wonderful husbands, and when she'd seen Katheryne Krieger at a villains mixer, she'd found that the girl totally understood how she felt. They
parted as friends, and it was amusing to see the huge-breasted, Nazi-themed villainess slinking around in her tight, leather costume, always hanging on the arm of her tall, handsome husband.
"Good morning, Pengy." she chortled as her husband came down for breakfast.
"Good morning, Ducky." he said with a grin, and the two of them chuckled "wak-wak-wak" as they sat down to eat. Carol did nothing for herself, allowing their servants to bring the platters of food. She ate like he did, mirroring him in a way that an
observer might have found creepy. She chatted with him casually about crime and corruption, no longer seeing anything wrong with breaking the law. Why should she? Her husband obviously didn't mind...