The Spider and the Flower: Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts/SCP-105/Andrea S. Adams
rating: +26+x

Pepper’s enormous G-Cup breasts squished against Natasha’s equally impressive pair as the two women engaged in a furious bout of open-mouthed tongue-wrestling. She felt small but strong hands find her shapely ass and squeeze it hard, just the way she liked.

“Ohhh fuck, Nat. That’s just how I like it.” Pepper moaned, breaking the kiss. “Who knew showering with you could be more fun than showering with Tony?”

“Tony has no idea how to please a woman,” Natasha sighed with a smirk, giving Pepper’s big beautiful bootylicious badonkadonk another firm squeeze “Trust me, baby. I know what you like.”

With that, Nat moved her head down to between Pepper’s melons, and went “BRLBRRBRBLRBLRLBRLBRLR,” motorboating the hell out of them. Pepper tingled with euphoria as her chesticles jiggled to and fro from Natasha’s action, and she moaned again, even louder than before. This truly was heaven.

It was right at that point that two more women, considerably less naked than Natasha and Pepper, appeared in the middle of the spacious bathroom.

Upon regaining her bearings and catching sight of the two red-headed women in the shower, Adams cursed loudly. “Another fucking slash-fic universe!? Jesus! What are the fucking odds!?”

Iris didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the two naked bodies standing before her, beckoning for her and Adams to join in their fun. Her gaze was not one of lust, or even the slightest bit of attraction, but rather one of amazement and exasperation. “Just when I thought they couldn’t get any bigger. I mean, Scarlet Johansson’s got a hell of a rack, but come on.”

“You like what you see?” Natasha cooed as she caressed her figure, clearly attempting to entice the two new arrivals, but, as her body looked like the product of a hormone-addled teenager’s first attempt at writing erotica, the act was not exactly successful in this endeavor.

The same could be said of Pepper’s drawn out moan as she squeezed her large breasts. “Mmm, I’ve always loved the way you look in that suit, Andrea. Almost as much as I love the way you look when you take it off. How about you and Iris come on in and join us?”

Adams’s eyes widened in dawning horror when she heard her name. Then she punched a hole in the wall to her left and swore loudly. “She knows our names. She knows our FUCKING names, Iris. Do you realize what that means?” The two women in the shower paid little mind to what was playing out before them, as they quickly became much more interested in playing with each other.

“That…that we’re supposed to be a part of this story?” Iris ventured the guess in a tone of trepidation, clearly hoping against hope that she was mistaken. But unfortunately for her, the bathroom door opened, as if on cue, and two familiar-looking yet unfamiliarly voluptuous ladies walked into the room.

“Hey gals,” the new Adams purred. The suit she wore looked similar to the one her doppelganger was in, but there were a number of details that made hers distinct. For one, she left her head exposed, revealing a sly grin and a cocked eyebrow. For another, this new Adams’ suit was somehow so form-fitting that her nipples could clearly be seen poking out from beneath it.

The new Iris, dressed in a crop-top and short-shorts ensemble that promptly ruined crop-tops and short-shorts forever in the eyes of her counterpart, smirked as she took in the sight before her. “Well, this is unexpected. But definitely not unwelcome…” As if to punctuate this statement, she bit her bottom lip and twirled some of her hair through her finger.

The Iris wearing a ballistic vest and fatigues turned to face the Adams wearing the suit that wasn’t designed to be eye-candy. “We gotta get the hell out of here.” She cringed as she heard a particularly loud moan come from the shower. Nat and Pepper had rounded third base, and would slide into home plate any minute now.

“Noooo shit.” Adams concurred, already fumbling for the small device that got them into this mess. “Sayonara ladies.” She grabbed her Iris and pressed the button that would get them the hell out of there.

Nothing happened.

Iris shifted her gaze between the small gray remote and Adams’ face. “We…we should be gone now, right?”

“Yeah…we should.” Adams pressed the button again. Then she shook the remote. Then she tried swearing at it. Then begging for it to work. Then she combined swearing and begging, along with some frantic pressing and shaking. Her doppelganger came up from behind her to give her a backrub, in an attempt to help alleviate the stress she was feeling. Said doppelganger was then soundly thrown across the spacious bathroom into a mirror, and toppled down to the floor, only to get up, showing no sign of injury, or even agitation. The only feeling her face showed was one of arousal.

“It’s not fucking working!”

“What do you mean it’s not fucking working!?”

“I mean the goddamn thing isn’t fucking working!”

“Well shit, isn’t there like, an instruction manual or something?” Iris asked, frantic, stepping away from the other-her, who had stripped nude by now and was getting a little too close for comfort. Speaking of comfort, Nat was getting comfortable while adjusting her large strap-on dildo (did they just have it in there the whole time, or?…) while Pepper bent over, asking for Natasha to “shove that thing so far up [her] ass that [she would] taste it.”

Adams shook her head “Black box tech. Even the eggheads weren’t entirely sure how it works. Just that, when they found it, it was carbon-dated back to a thousand fucking years ago, and worked perfectly fine until FUCKING NOW!” she kicked the wall next to her, making another hole. And speaking of holes, Natasha was positively drilling Pepper’s, the two of them making so much noise at this point that Adams and Iris had to shout to be heard over them.

“Look, let’s at least get the hell out of this bathroom so we can hear ourselves think,” and with that, Iris immediately strode to the door, shoving her counterpart out of the way when the latter went in for a kiss, and threw it open. To her surprise, there was no room on the other side of the door, but a blank white wall. “Oh shit, Adams!”

Already aware of the situation, Adams charged towards the door, barely giving Iris enough time to jump away before a fist enhanced with superhuman strength slammed into the white wall at nearly sixty miles per hour.

Said fist promptly bounced off the wall and nearly flung Adams across the bathroom. And speaking of fists, Nat and Pepper were-you know what? You can probably guess what was happening there. Apparently there’s a big ol’ jug of lube in that shower too.

“Oh dear God…” Iris went pale as Adams immediately reassessed the situation (While at the same time throwing the other Adams into the ceiling.) and decided to try the holes she had made before. Unfortunately, as she tore into the walls of the bathroom, she was greeted by that same white barrier. She kept up her efforts for another minute or so, the sounds of the walls being smashed and her profanity-laced pleading enough to drown out the sounds coming from the shower and from the floor, where the other Adams now lay, butt-naked and pleasuring herself (her suit, inexplicably enough, was nowhere to be found). Eventually, she (the angry Adams, not the horny one) gave up and slumped down onto the ground, defeated.

“What do we do? We’re fucking stuck in a lemon that stars you, me, Black Widow, and Pepper fucking Potts!” Iris said, throwing up her hands in defeat. “We can’t escape! We can’t do anything to them, can’t have an actual conversation, can’t kill them, can’t do anything except fuck them!” The other Iris came up behind her and began touching her neck. The clothed Iris promptly reeled around with a scathing glare “Oh go fuck yourself.”

Upon reflection of her choice of words, and noticing that her twin was about to make a comment, she immediately put a finger up to the other’s lips, and cut her off before she began with a sharp and vehement “SHH.”

The other Iris began to suck on that finger.

Normally, Adams would have been impressed of the stream of profanity that her companion let loose. However, Adams wasn’t exactly in the mood for anything of that sort at the moment.

“WOULD EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR TWO GODDAMN SECONDS?” With that, Adams popped up onto her feet and kicked her twin so hard that she went face first into one of the few walls left intact. Landing on the ground, she went right back to what she was doing before (that is to say, herself). “JUST LET ME FUCKING THINK, GOD FUCKING DAMN?”

Iris promptly shut up. The rest of the bathroom did not. Other-Adams and Other-Iris had apparently given up on seducing their respective doppelgangers, and joined Pepper and Natasha in the shower.

Adams and Iris remained silent for a long time, the reality of their situation sinking in as the gratuitous sexual activities continued on around them. Unless they could figure out a way to fix the universe-hopping device, they would be trapped there for the rest of their lives, stuck in the middle of a lesbian orgy conjured up by the mind of someone who only had the barest idea of what such a thing would even entail.

However, just as the two agents were trying to think of ways to cope (Adams took some solace in the idea of kicking the crap out of herself for the rest of her life. Iris took some solace in the idea of watching Adams do so for the rest of her life) the door of the bathroom, along with the wall surrounding it, burst open as a hovering saucer plowed through it.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Adams leapt up and took a defensive stance, immediately taking stock of what the craft looked like and of who was inside of it. The transparent hatch on top opened up, allowing the two figures inside to climb out. There was an older man with blue-gray hair next to a pubescent boy. The boy looked frightened. The man looked irritated.

“Godammit, Morty! You-urp¬-you said you were ready this time! Did we-did we kill the Simpsons again!”

“Uhh I-I’m sorry! I uh, I don’t think we did?”

“Well let’s figure out where the hell we are. Alright, it looks like a bathroom. Big and fancy, owned by some rich douche. That’s someone in a supersuit, who looks-urp-I mean, I can’t see their face, but they look pissed. That’s a girl who looks terrified over there. Aaaand that’s a… uhhh, yeah that’s an orgy going on in that shower.”

“Ohh, that’s pretty…that’s hot?”

“Trust me Morty, no it’s not. You see how big those tits are? That’s not-that’s not how tits work, Morty. This looks like some kind of fan-urp-fiction come to life. Written by someone who doesn’t know anything about sex except from what abstinence-only curriculums and the internet’s taught them. That’s not hot Morty.”

There was another period of silence (with the exception of the noise of the shower and its occupants.) If Iris had actually spent the rest of her life in that bathroom counting how many questions she had at the moment, she would die before she was halfway through the task.

But luckily, Adams, as usual, got down to brass tacks straight away.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“This thing.” The old man patted his craft.

“Can you get us the fuck out of here?”

“Yeah, sure. Hop in. C’mon Morty. Scooch over, make some room.”

Morty looked unsure “Uhh Rick, I don’t know if-I mean, can we trust them?”

“Morty, seriously, why you gotta be like that? Be a-urp- be a pal and scooch your -urp- pooch, god damn.”


With that, Rick and Morty climbed back into the saucer’s cockpit, immediately followed by Adams and Iris. The four of them just barely managed to squeeze in, and after a few moments, the craft hovered up into the air and spun around to smash into the same wall it had entered through. Within an instant of doing so, it vanished with a flash, and the four ladies in the shower were now the only inhabitants of that room, and thus, that universe.

“Yeah it sounds like-urp- like a really easy fix. I’ll take a look at your thing as soon as we touch down somewhere.”

“Thanks again. We really appreciate it.”

“Hey, no biggie. It’s like I always say: Gotta help a motherfucker out, man.”

“Rick you don’t always-I’ve never heard you say that.”

“Well shit, Morty, there’s shit about me that you don’t know about, god damn. Let’s-urp- we can get out here.”

“Hold that thought, Rick. Iris…is that who I think it is?”

“Who? I don’t-oh…ohhh…oh Christ I think it is.”

“What’s up? You know that fat bastards who’s fu-urp-cking The Doctor?”

“Next universe.”

“What? It’s not like they care, we can just-“


He hits the stopwatch and resets the counter. Then he takes inventory of his surroundings, absent-mindedly tugging at the cloth he’s using as a makeshift bandage on his arm.

He’s in a large, luxurious bathroom that totally pristine. He turns around and sees a large shower. In that shower are four women, who are very amorous, very naked, and very improbably-proportioned. They have not noticed him yet.

He stares for a moment, slack-jawed. If they notice him, they may pose a threat. They may be frightened. They may react in any number of ways. Maybe it would be best not to be noticed.
He mulls it over for a while, before his curiosity trumps his caution, and he clears his throat and asks a question.

“Excuse me… you ladies wouldn’t happen to know where I could find some dandelion wine, would you?”

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