Charlotta called again and again to her perfect love. She hated who she'd been. A silly, useless know-it-all who dared to try to stop her wonderful stepbrother from doing what he wanted. Cain Marko was her vision of manly perfection - Big, Strong and Dominant - and Charlotta dreamed of a world where Cain would impose his will on her. Charlotta imagined that she was a sultry little latina MILF slut, mincing and flouncing around Cain Markos office He'd come in and she'd bow to him. Submitting to his demands for sex and letting him rule over Marko Mansion just as he always had. Charlotta saw in the minds of some of the mansions inhabitants that they falsely remembered this place as belonging to a man named 'Charles Xavier' , so she reached into their minds...and deleted that information, implanting in each that 'Charlotta Xavier' was a servant, and nothing more. No. Not just a servant. A slutty, stupid, greasy little wetback puta who cleaned the toilets and hid whenever USCIS came around, so she didn't get dragged back to Mexico.
Then...drawn by her constant calls...Cain Marko walked into the mansion. 'Markos' Mansion'. HIS mansion. Cain saw Charlotta, and just for a second he had a different image in his head. The idea of a dignified, genius telepath in a wheelchair.
Then he remembered who she was.
"Charlotta, you idiot 'beaner' whore! What are you doing in my office? Are you trying to get into my locked drawers? Are you trying to steal?"
Suddenly terrified, Charlotta turned and gave 'Senor Marko' an eye-full of her huge, wobbling tits. Dressed in her skimpy French Maid's costume, she was flaunting all that her mamma gave her. Though she was getting old - obviously in her late 40's and flaunting a streak of theatrical silver in her hair - she knew just how to flaunt her curves. She began to grovel before him "On Puh-lees Mees-ter Marko! Ju know Charlotta jus' cleanin' up de place like she all-the-time do! I yam jus' a dirty, leetle puta, an' ju are zo beeg and strong. Charlotta do whatever ju wan' her to do!"
Cain Marko smiled, pulled his pants, and asked "Anything?"
Charlotta smile and crawled to him on her knees, licking her huge, pouty lips - already glossy with red lipstick. She took him into her mouth, and her own powers backed-up on her mind, burning out any remaining 'Charles Xavier' thoughts, and leaving a bawdy-yet-submisssive old slut who wanted nothing out of life save the right to serve Cain Marko. She looked up at him as she sucked - nearly dislocating her jaw in an effort to take all of her mans magnificent dick down her throat. She loved him...worshiped him...and expected nothing from him...
Through his magical nanites, Tim Torres read the thoughts of the new Charlotta Xavier and smiled. Charlotta would actually be much happier than Charles Xavier ever had been - no more worries or troubles, other than pleasing her man. She would love Cain Marko forever, and as he knocked her up again and again, she'd love raising the squalling bastards that she'd give birth to. Tim Torres saw her magical 'life line' - her potential for change and growth - and as he had with 'Maggie', he ended it right there. Charlotta and Maggie would never be anything but what they'd become. He did like the idea of them being friends though, so he changed Cain Markos memories she he thought he was a member of the Toads 'Brotherhood of Evil', and made sure that Maggie and Charlotta were total 'gal pals' when their men were together. They'd gossip and gab in the kitchen, while Juggernaut and Toad planned some big caper. The rest of the X-Men should really join the Brotherhood as well. On big happy...family?
Tim Torres saw a television on the wall with the sound off, and noticed that some news bulletin was running. Something about the Blob (Tim had seen him running off, but hadn't stopped him, because it wasn't as if they wouldn't meet again) and some bunch of equally fat, loutish women who were robbing banks. The media seems to have creatively dubbed them the 'Blob Squad', and as soon as Tim saw them...he knew that something must have gone wrong with his powers. The voice had told him that his abilities were capable of 'organic growth' and that 'prolonged use would result in some odd reactions', but this was still unexpected. Closing his eyes, he sent a pulse through his magical nanites that contacted Fred Dukes...but somehow wasn't able to control him. That was worrisome, until he looked deep into Freds simple, greedy soul...saw it was reflected in each of his henchwomen...and smiled. Dukes and his Blob Squad would be more entertaining and useful that dangerous.
meanwhile...
"An keep dose cummin', buddy! We gots plenty o' money t' spend in dis place, y'knows..." snarled the obese, sneering slut as she took the cases of cold beers from room service. They were in an exclusive hideaway for rich villains that catered to only the most exclusive clientele. An entire floor of the building was taken up with the Dukes party, and Fred was reveling in his new life...with his new girlfriends. Each had once been an Avenger, and though he tried to figure it out himself, he just didn't have the brainpower to work it out. It was simple really. The nanites had been changing him in ways he couldn't control, and the two Avengers had been amused by it.. In rage, he'd tapped into the nanites...and his secondary mutation suddenly evolved, allowing him to turn others into twisted versions of what he'd been changing into...but only if his mind had identified them as 'Avengers'.
And as they'd come for him - searching for their missing members - they'd found him...and he'd taken from them, and replaced it with...himself.
Clarabelle Dukes (a bottom-heavy blond babe, dressed in a skimpy purple spandex and armed with a bow and specialized arrows, and called 'Ballista' by the press) and Bobbie Dukes (similarly built, though her white-blond hair was cut short, her spandex was blue, and she carried a pair of 'battle-staves' and had been dubbed 'Double-Hitter') carried the beers into the main room, where the divine Fred Dukes was being cuddled and snuggled by a dozen other obese women. Some were just chilling out, like the black-clad Wakandan goddess who called herself 'Fat Cat', and the massive, bleached-blond vixen who wore the red, white and blue bikini and went by the name 'Miss America'. They snuggled with each other, drinking beers and smoking cigars. The felt wonderful. They were felt like real 'Dukes', and knew they'd never be anything else. Everyone else felt the same.
Toni Dukes sprawled naked next to her suit of armor - a massive globe of spiked, red and gold destruction that gave her the name 'Iron Maiden' - while Jan Dukes ('Bumblebee') sucked Freds dick like a bee taking nectar from a flower. Thora Dukes (or 'Thora, Goddess of Pillage') kissed the man she worshiped, while other gaudy, slutty blimps ate, drank, smoked and fucked around him. Gone were their heroic personalities and dignified attitudes. In there place were a dozen and a half of the raunchiest, earthiest sluts. They all seemed like a fun-loving bunch. Not the smartest villains in the world, but a jolly, brawling mix of over-sexed bimbos with no desires other than pleasing their man.