The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their Manhattan apartment,
casting a golden glow over the breakfast nook where Peter and Emma sat. Peter absently stirred
his cereal, watching Emma across the table as she elegantly sipped her tea, perfectly manicured
nails tapping against her iPad screen. Despite the domestic tranquility of the scene, his mind
was still reeling from last night's revelation.
"I'm sorry, but can you run through this whole thing one more time?" Peter asked, setting down
his spoon with a clink. "Because I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that Professor
X and Magneto—two of the most powerful mutants on the planet—came to you with some
kind of... breeding program?"
Emma looked up from her device, those icy blue eyes holding a glimmer of amusement.
"Darling, we went over this last night. Rather thoroughly, if I recall." Her lips curled into a
knowing smile. "Though I suppose you were quite... distracted at the time."
"Yeah, well, hearing that the leaders of mutantkind want me to basically stud service their
population tends to throw a guy off his game," Peter replied, running a hand through his
disheveled brown hair. "Even if you did manage to make the conversation incredibly hot in the
moment."
Emma set her iPad down, leaning forward slightly. The movement caused her silk robe to part
just enough to reveal the swell of her breasts and the curve of her pregnant belly. "They didn't
use those exact words, of course. Charles and Erik are far too proper for that." She caressed her
stomach gently, a gesture that had become habitual as her pregnancy progressed. "But the
essence is correct. There appears to be a fertility crisis on Krakoa."
"A fertility crisis," Peter repeated flatly, watching her fingers trace circles over her swollen womb. "And they think I'm the solution because...?"
"Because, my love, you've accomplished what apparently no other human has managed in quite
some time." Emma's voice dropped lower, more intimate. "You've knocked up a mutant. Quite
thoroughly, I might add." She took another sip of tea, her eyes never leaving his. "According to
their data, not a single mutant couple has conceived on Krakoa since its founding."
Peter's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "Wait, none? As in zero babies? How is
that possible with thousands of mutants living there?"
"That's what has them concerned," Emma replied, setting down her teacup. "They've run
extensive tests through their precious Cerebro and Hank's laboratories. There seems to be
something about the island itself—or perhaps something else entirely—preventing conception
between mutants. The only exceptions they've found are pregnancies involving humans."
"And I'm special because...?" Peter trailed off, though he was beginning to connect the dots.
Emma's smile widened. "Because you, Peter Parker, along with perhaps Captain America and
maybe twenty other individuals worldwide, appear capable of impregnating mutant women.
The vast majority of human-mutant pairings are just as infertile. Something about your
enhanced genetics, they theorize." She reached across the table to take his hand, guiding it to
rest on her belly. "And as evidence, I present exhibit A."
Peter felt a kick against his palm and couldn't help smiling despite his confusion. "Okay, I get
that part. What I don't understand is how we jumped from 'interesting scientific discovery' to
'let's have Spider-Man fuck Storm.' That seems like quite a leap."
Emma burst into laughter, bright and genuine. "Oh darling, your eloquence never fails to charm.
And to think I used to consider you beneath my notice."
"Hey, I'm being serious here," Peter protested, though he couldn't help grinning at her reaction.
"Last night you casually mention that not only do the mutant bigwigs come asking you to stud
out your future husband, but they're suggesting I should sleep with Storm. Storm! One of the
most powerful and respected mutants alive. Former queen of Wakanda. Actual goddess to
some people."
"And apparently quite eager to experience your particular... talents," Emma added, her
expression turning mischievous. "When the Quiet Council learned of the situation and began
discussing potential candidates, Ororo reportedly volunteered herself."
Peter nearly choked on his coffee. "She what?"
"Volunteered," Emma repeated, clearly enjoying his reaction. "Really, Peter, is it so hard to
believe that other women might desire you? You're quite the catch, even if you do insist on
wearing those ridiculous pajamas while swinging around the city."
"They're not pajamas," Peter muttered reflexively. "But that's not the point. The point is—this is
insane! They're basically asking me to..." He struggled to find appropriate words.
"To help ensure the survival of an endangered species through thoroughly enjoyable means?"
Emma suggested, arching a perfect eyebrow. "I fail to see the downside, particularly since I've
already given my blessing. After all, unlike most men, you actually possess the stamina to satisfy
multiple partners." She lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. "Something I've come to
appreciate firsthand."
Peter's face flushed crimson, the heat rising so quickly to his cheeks that he had to look away
from Emma's knowing gaze. He fidgeted with his coffee mug, suddenly finding the ceramic
pattern fascinating.
"My, my," Emma purred, leaning back in her chair with a self-satisfied smirk. "And here I
thought I'd spent the last few years conditioning you to develop a proper mutant breeding kink.
Clearly, I haven't been thorough enough in my... education." She crossed her legs slowly
beneath the table, the silk of her robe whispering against her skin.
Peter cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I wouldn't say that. You've been very...
educational."
"Indeed?" Emma's eyes glittered with mischief. "Perhaps you need a reminder of last month,
when you had me bent over the balcony railing? As I recall, you were quite enthusiastic when I
commanded you to 'breed the White Queen like a conquering king.' I believe the neighbors
three buildings over heard your response."
The blush that had begun to fade returned with such intensity that Peter thought his face might
permanently change color. "That was... I mean, we were... that's different!"
"Is it?" Emma tilted her head, the morning light catching in her platinum blonde hair. "The way
you filled me that night suggested otherwise. I distinctly remember you growling something
about making sure your powerful spider genes dominated my mutant ones." She caressed her
swollen belly meaningfully. "Evidence suggests you succeeded."
Peter buried his face in his hands. "Why do you remember every embarrassing thing I say during
sex with such perfect clarity?"
"Telepath, darling. And besides," Emma reached across to pull his hands away from his face, "I
find your uninhibited moments quite... stimulating. But you're deflecting. What I don't
understand is your hesitation regarding Ororo. Is there some history between you two I'm
unaware of?"
"No, that's not it," Peter sighed, finally meeting her eyes. "I just don't understand why Storm of
all people would want this? She's... she's Storm! Goddess of weather, former queen, leader of
mutants. And I'm just the guy who makes bad jokes while punching Doc Ock."
Emma's expression grew slightly more serious, her fingers interlacing with his across the table.
"Is there some animosity between you two that I should know about? Some past conflict?"
Peter shook his head. "Nothing like that. Well, except for that one time I guest-lectured at the
school and the students seemed to prefer my teaching style to hers. She was a little frosty—not
Emma Frost frosty, just regular frosty—for a few days after that." He shrugged. "And obviously
not everyone appreciates how I make jokes about everything, but I wouldn't say we hate each
other. Far from it. I respect her enormously."
"Then what's the real issue here?" Emma pressed, her thumb tracing small circles on his palm.
"Because I'm sensing there's something more to your reluctance."
Peter exhaled slowly, trying to organize his thoughts. "It's just... this is weird, right? Being
approached like some kind of special breeding stud? And with someone like Storm—it feels
almost disrespectful, like I'd be diminishing her somehow by turning this into some kind of... I
don't know, transaction?"
Emma's expression softened, something rare and genuine flickering in her ice-blue eyes. "Peter,
darling, you're overthinking this as usual. Ororo is a grown woman making her own choices. If
anything, she sees this as a practical solution to an existential threat facing her people. And,"
she added with a hint of her usual wickedness returning, "perhaps she's curious about the man
who managed to tame the White Queen."
"I wouldn't say 'tamed,'" Peter quipped, a small smile finally breaking through his discomfort.
"Maybe 'temporarily persuaded to consider domestic life.'"
"Quite," Emma replied dryly. "The point remains that this isn't merely about biologically viable
breeding pairs. The Quiet Council could have approached this clinically, with test tubes and
sterile labs. That they've suggested a more... natural approach speaks to the importance of
more than genetics. And believe me when I say that Ororo Munroe does nothing she doesn't
wish to do."
Peter nodded slowly, considering her words. "So you're really okay with this? With me
potentially... you know..."
"Fucking another woman senseless and pumping her full of your superior spider-seed?" Emma
finished bluntly, her expression utterly composed despite the vulgarity. "Darling, I've had
centuries' worth of sexual experiences in my lifetime. I'm hardly going to begrudge you
exploring beyond our bed, especially when it serves a greater purpose."
Peter ran a hand through his hair, anxiety evident in the tightness of his shoulders. "It's not just
that, Emma. We're engaged now. After four years together, we've built something real. We have
Parker-Frost Industries to run, which is finally turning a profit that doesn't make me panic every
quarter. And in case you've forgotten," he gestured toward her swollen belly, "we have babies
on the way. Our babies. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"Of course it does," Emma replied, her tone softening slightly as she observed his distress. "But
that doesn't explain your visceral reaction. There's something more here, isn't there?" She tilted
her head, studying him with the practiced eye of a telepath who preferred to hear truths spoken
aloud rather than plucked from minds.
Peter's gaze dropped to the table, his fingers fidgeting with the handle of his coffee mug. "I
just... I don't want to lose you, okay? Not over some breeding project that Xavier and Magneto
cooked up." The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, raw in a way that still surprised Emma
after all their time together. "I've lost enough people in my life. And what we have—it's more
than I ever thought I'd get."
"Peter," Emma began, but he continued as though a dam had broken.
"Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper,
"and I'm convinced it's all been a dream. That you're not really there. That none of this—us, the
company, the babies—is real." His eyes met hers, filled with an earnestness that still caught her
off guard. "I have to reach for your hand just to make sure you're actually beside me. That's how
certain I am that something this good can't possibly last."
If Emma's heart could have burst from affection for Peter, it would have in that moment.
Despite her typical composure, she felt something warm and dangerous unfurl in her chest—an
emotion she'd once considered a weakness but now recognized as her greatest strength. She
rose from her seat, setting her iPad down on the table with deliberate care.
Emma walked toward him with the grace that had made men's heads turn for decades, the silk
of her robe flowing around her changed body like water. When she reached him, she took his
hand and placed it against the swell of her belly where, in just three months, their babies would
be born. "Feel that," she murmured. "That's real. More real than any nightmare or doubt."
As if on cue, there was movement beneath his palm—a gentle flutter, then a more pronounced
kick. Peter's expression softened in wonder, as it did every time he felt their children stir. Emma
watched the transformation, the way anxiety melted into reverence, and she carded her fingers
through his hair as he leaned forward to rest his head against her womb.
"They always seem to know when you're near," she said softly, stroking the nape of his neck.
"Your children already adore you, as does their mother, though she's significantly less inclined
to admit it in polite company."
Peter closed his eyes, feeling another kick against his cheek. "I just want you," he murmured
against her silk-covered belly. "All of you. I don't want to share this with anyone else."
Emma's fingers continued their gentle exploration of his hair, her touch uncharacteristically
tender. "I'm not going to leave you, Peter," she promised, her voice carrying a rare note of
complete sincerity. "Not like Mary Jane did with Paul." The mention of his ex-girlfriend's name
still carried a slight edge—Emma Frost wasn't known for her forgiveness of those who hurt
people she cared about. "She didn't know what she lost. I, however, know exactly what I have."
Peter looked up at her, gratitude and love evident in his gaze. "You mean that?"
"Have you ever known me to say things I don't mean?" Emma asked, arching an elegant
eyebrow. "Besides, I have certain... selfish motivations as well." A mischievous smirk curved her
blue-tinted lips as she leaned down, bringing her face closer to his. "I was thinking I might place
a camera somewhere discreet when you and Ororo finally get together. I'd quite enjoy watching
the famed Storm break on your nine-inch spider cock."
Peter groaned, dropping his forehead against her belly again. "And just like that, you've ruined a
perfectly touching moment."
Emma threw back her head and laughed, the sound bright and genuine in a way few people
ever got to hear from the White Queen. "Darling, if you wanted sentimentality without
impropriety, you should have married a nice, normal girl." She tilted his chin up with one finger.
"But you didn't. You chose me. And I chose you—every remarkable, infuriating, heroic, and
deliciously filthy inch of you."
Peter shook his head and sat back in his chair, looking up at Emma with a mixture of
exasperation and affection. Her ability to pivot from heartfelt sincerity to outrageous lewdness
was something he'd never fully get used to. "So you're really okay with this whole...
arrangement?" he asked again, still seeking reassurance despite her clear enthusiasm.
"Darling, I'm more than okay with it," Emma replied, running her fingers through his hair once
more before returning to her seat with graceful movements that belied her pregnant state.
"Besides, it would be entirely too thrilling to bully a pregnant Storm with the fact that the famed
goddess was cumming like a desperate whore all over my husband's cock when he put some
babies in her." Her blue lips curved into a predatory smile as she picked up her teacup again.
Peter nearly choked on his coffee. "Jesus, Emma! You can't say things like that about Storm.
She's one of the most respected mutants on the planet."
Emma's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Which makes it all the more delicious, don't you think?
The Weather Goddess, worshipped in parts of Africa, former Queen of Wakanda... reduced to a
moaning, wet mess by the same cock that's currently keeping me so thoroughly satisfied." She
traced the rim of her teacup with one perfectly manicured finger. "I wonder if she's a screamer.
The dignified ones often are, in my experience."
"Can we please stop discussing Storm's potential... reactions?" Peter pleaded, his face flushing
despite himself. "This is already awkward enough without imagining the details."
"Oh, but the details are the best part," Emma purred, leaning forward slightly. "And besides, she
likely wouldn't be the last mutant lady to get bred by you. If Storm is a success—and I have
every confidence she will be—then you would be expected to fuck and breed a whole lot of
other mutants." She took a delicate sip of her tea, watching his reaction over the rim of the cup.
Peter's eyes widened. "Wait, what? No one said anything about multiple women. I thought this
was just about Storm!"
"Don't be naive, darling," Emma replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "If you can solve
Krakoa's fertility crisis, do you really think they'll stop at just one? The Quiet Council is nothing if
not pragmatic." She tilted her head, studying him thoughtfully. "But don't worry, I'd only choose
the most beautiful for you. Ones with the largest tits and fattest asses for you to pound into
pregnancy."
"Emma!" Peter exclaimed, equal parts scandalized and aroused by her bluntness. "That's... I
mean, you can't just..." He trailed off, struggling to form a coherent objection.
"Can't I?" Emma countered, her smile widening. "Tell me you haven't imagined it. The powerful
Ororo Munroe, legs spread wide as you thrust into her. Perhaps Rogue after that? That Southern
belle has quite the impressive figure, and those pouty lips would look divine wrapped around
your cock." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Or maybe Jean
Grey? I'd particularly enjoy watching you breed that sanctimonious redhead."
Peter's face was now bright red. "I haven't—I mean, I don't—" He took a deep breath, trying to
center himself. "I'm not going to have a harem, Emma. That's not who I am. And besides, what
would we even do with all these... these..."
"Baby mamas?" Emma supplied helpfully, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "We'd accommodate
them, of course. I'm already thinking we'll need a bigger property. Something with multiple
wings, perhaps overlooking the water. Plenty of room for you and all the swollen bellies you'll
be responsible for." She gestured expansively, as though already envisioning this hypothetical
estate.
Peter groaned and buried his face in his hands. "This is insane. You realize that, right? We're
talking about me potentially fathering dozens of children with multiple women. How would that
even work logistically? Child support alone would bankrupt me, even with our company doing
well."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Really, Peter, do try to keep up. Money is hardly an issue. Between my
fortune, the resources of Krakoa, and the special arrangements the Quiet Council would
undoubtedly make, your offspring would want for nothing." She traced a finger down her
swollen belly. "Besides, these children would be extraordinary—possibly the first of a new
evolutionary branch. Homo superior meets Homo arachnis, if you will."
"That's not even a real taxonomic classification," Peter muttered, but Emma continued as
though he hadn't spoken.
"Think of it, darling. Your children could inherit the best of both worlds—your remarkable
abilities combined with the genetic gifts of some of the most powerful mutants alive." Her eyes
took on a dreamy quality that Peter rarely saw. "They would be glorious. Our twins are already
showing signs of exceptional development in utero. Imagine what might happen with Storm's
weather manipulation, or Rogue's absorption abilities, or—"
Peter reached out and pulled Emma into his arms, his hands gently cupping her face as he
brought his lips to hers in a tender, passionate kiss. He could feel her mind racing, generating
plans and scenarios at lightning speed—a quality he both admired and occasionally needed to
temper. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against hers as he felt her relax into his embrace,
her pregnant belly pressing against him as a tangible reminder of their connection.
"One step at a time," he murmured against her lips when they finally broke apart, his forehead
resting against hers. "Let's see how things go with Storm first, and then we can decide together
whether to continue with... whatever this breeding program is." His thumbs traced small circles
on her cheeks as he looked into her icy blue eyes. "This affects both of us, not just me. We're
partners, remember?"
Emma's lips curled into her signature smirk, though her eyes held genuine warmth that few
besides Peter ever witnessed. "Fine," she conceded, pressing another kiss to his lips. "I suppose
your irritatingly reasonable approach has merit. Though I do so enjoy imagining you spreading
your genetic material throughout mutantkind's finest specimens."
"So what's the actual plan here?" Peter asked, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips. "Do I
just... show up at Krakoa and ask Storm if she wants to have sex? Because that seems like a
good way to get struck by lightning."
"Don't be absurd, darling," Emma replied with an elegant roll of her eyes. "I'll be going to Krakoa
first to speak with Ororo directly. I want to ensure this is truly her choice and not some scheme
Xavier and Erik have pressured her into." She traced a finger down his chest, her expression
turning serious. "I may not share well with others, but I absolutely refuse to participate in any
arrangement where consent is even slightly questionable."
Peter nodded, his respect for Emma deepening. For all her provocative behavior and sharp
edges, her moral compass on matters of consent had always been unwavering. "That's... really
considerate of you," he said softly, tucking a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
Emma's eyes narrowed playfully. "Don't sound so surprised. I can be considerate when the
situation warrants it." She shifted against him, a knowing smile spreading across her face as she
felt his body's immediate response. "My, my... what have we here?"
Peter followed her gaze downward, suddenly aware that his eyes had wandered to her swollen
breasts. Her pregnancy had made them fuller, the delicate silk of her robe doing little to conceal
how they strained against the fabric, dark circles of her nipples visible beneath the thin
material. A damp spot had formed where her milk had begun to leak—a recent development
that never failed to arouse him beyond all reason.
"See something you like?" Emma teased, deliberately pressing her chest forward. She guided his
hands to her breasts, allowing him to feel their weight and warmth through the silk. "They're
quite sensitive today. Practically begging for attention."
Peter groaned, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples, feeling the wetness seeping
through. "Emma," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "You can't just... I mean, we were
having a serious conversation about—"
"About you fucking Storm until she's pregnant with your spider babies?" Emma finished for him,
her smile turning wicked as she felt him harden further against her thigh. "Yes, I'm well aware.
Which is why you should save this..." she reached down to cup his growing erection through his
pajama pants, "for breeding the mutant weather witch. No sense depleting your reserves when
you'll need all your considerable stamina."
Peter let out another groan, this one of frustration rather than pleasure, as Emma disentangled
herself from his embrace. She stepped back, retying her robe with deliberate slowness. "I
believe I'll take a long, hot bath before preparing for my trip to Krakoa," she announced, her
voice deliberately casual as though she hadn't just worked him into a state of desperate arousal.
"I have a rather important diplomatic mission ahead, after all."
"You're seriously going to leave me like this?" Peter asked incredulously, gesturing toward the
very obvious tent in his pants. "That's just... that's cruel, Emma. Even for you."
Emma's laughter echoed through their apartment as she sauntered toward their master
bathroom, the silk robe clinging to her curves in a way that only intensified Peter's discomfort.
"Cruel? Perhaps. Effective? Absolutely. You'll be practically bursting by the time Ororo arrives."
She threw a glance over her shoulder, blue-tinted lips curved in a smile that promised both
pleasure and torment. "Consider it preparation for your important mission."
Peter collapsed back into his chair with a frustrated sigh, listening to the sound of water
beginning to fill their oversized bathtub. She had left him hard, aching, and utterly consumed
with thoughts he was trying desperately to suppress. "Blue balls from the White Queen," he
muttered to himself. "There's probably a joke in there somewhere, but I'm too horny to find it."
I suppose I could make an exception just this once, Emma's voice suddenly echoed in his mind,
the telepathic communication sending a shiver down his spine. I've been meaning to test my
underwater oral skills in that new tub. The jets provide such interesting... sensations.
Peter was out of his chair in an instant, nearly knocking it over in his haste. "Best fiancée ever!"
he shouted, already stripping off his shirt as he sprinted toward the bathroom with spiderenhanced speed.
Emma's melodic laughter, both mental and audible, followed him down the hallway. Do hurry,
darling. I've already started without you. The mental image she projected—of her naked body
submerged in bubbles, one hand lazily circling between her legs—nearly made him trip over his
own feet in his eagerness.
"Coming!" Peter called out, practically tearing at his remaining clothes as he reached the
bathroom door.
Not yet, Emma's telepathic voice purred in his mind, but you will be.
...................
Emma's arrival through the Gateway portal in Central Park created quite the spectacle. She
stepped through the shimmering threshold with her characteristic grace, despite being heavily
pregnant with twins. Her outfit was a masterclass in adapting her usual provocative style to her
current condition—a flowing white cape draped elegantly over one shoulder, attached to a
modified white corset that accommodated her swollen belly while still emphasizing her
impressive cleavage. Crystal embellishments caught the light as she moved, her ensemble
completed with tailored white maternity pants and low-heeled boots that gave her stability
without sacrificing style. Her platinum blonde hair was immaculately styled, her makeup
flawless, with her signature diamond earrings and matching necklace completing the look of
mutant royalty.
The moment Emma's stiletto-heeled boots touched Krakoan soil, she was immediately
surrounded. The Cuckoos materialized first, their synchronized movements creating the
impression of a single entity splitting into five as they rushed toward their genetic template.
"Emma!" they exclaimed in perfect unison, their faces lit with identical expressions of joy as
they circled her like excited birds.
"Girls, please," Emma said with feigned exasperation, though her ice-blue eyes betrayed her
affection. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass. Though I appreciate the enthusiasm." She allowed
herself a small smile as Celeste and Phoebe each took one of her hands, while Mindee, Esme,
and Sophie hovered protectively around her.
"The babies have grown so much since last week," Mindee observed, placing her hand gently on
Emma's rounded belly. Without waiting for permission, all five Cuckoos synchronized their
thoughts, creating a telepathic connection with the developing minds within Emma's womb.
Their eyes glowed faintly as they communicated with their unborn siblings.
"Oh!" gasped Phoebe, her eyes widening. "They're so active today! The boy just sent me the
most vivid image of webs and crystals." The other sisters nodded enthusiastically, their
telepathic bond with the twins eliciting excited kicks that Emma felt rippling across her
abdomen.
Emma stroked Celeste's hair affectionately. "Yes, they've been particularly energetic since we
learned we're coming to Krakoa. I think they sense they're among their kind here." She placed a
protective hand over her belly, diamond-hard skin momentarily glittering beneath her palm.
"Peter thinks they may already be developing powers in utero, though Dr. McCoy insists that's
impossible."
"Nothing is impossible with these children," Esme said with conviction, her hand joining her
sisters' on Emma's stomach. "They're going to be extraordinary—beyond omega level. We can
feel it."
Before Emma could respond, a new wave of mutants approached, led by Jean Grey, whose fiery
red hair seemed to glow against the verdant Krakoan landscape. Despite their complicated
history, Jean's face was open and warm as she approached. "Emma," she said, embracing her
former rival carefully. "You look absolutely radiant."
"Flattery, Jean? How uncharacteristic," Emma replied with a smirk, though she returned the
hug. "But I'll accept the compliment, given my current state of perpetual discomfort."
Jean laughed, placing a gentle hand on Emma's stomach. "May I?" When Emma nodded, Jean
closed her eyes briefly. "Oh, they're strong. So much like their father... but with your intensity."
She opened her eyes, meeting Emma's gaze with understanding. "Being pregnant with a mutant
child is challenging enough—I can't imagine carrying twins with Parker DNA thrown into the
mix."
Kitty Pryde pushed her way through next, her ability to phase making it easy for her to slip
through the gathering crowd. "Emma! God, look at you! Motherhood suits you way better than I
ever would have guessed." Her candor made Emma chuckle despite herself.
"Katherine, as tactless as ever," Emma replied, but there was no real bite to her words. "Though
I suppose I should appreciate your honesty, even if I'm currently the size of a small Sentinel."
She adjusted her cape with a practiced flick of her wrist. "The things we do for family."
Rogue approached next, her Southern accent thick with emotion as she carefully hugged Emma,
mindful of her skin making contact only with clothed areas. "Sugar, you're absolutely glowin'!
Those babies are gonna be the most stylish little mutants this side of anywhere." She stepped
back, her green eyes twinkling. "And the most powerful, I'd wager, with you and Spider-Man as
parents."
Even Mystique appeared, her yellow eyes assessing Emma with undisguised curiosity. "Still an
Interesting choice, Frost," she commented, gesturing vaguely toward Emma's midsection. "I
wouldn't have pegged Parker as your type. Too... wholesome." Her lips curved into a knowing
smile. "Though I suppose opposites do attract. And the genetic potential is... intriguing. If you
have survive four years together, there must be something you are both doing right."
Emma raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Not everyone makes reproductive choices based
on genetic optimization, Raven. Sometimes it's as simple as loving someone." She placed a
protective hand over her stomach, a hint of diamond hardness shimmering across her skin.
"Though I won't deny these children will likely redefine what we consider possible for
mutantkind."
As the group moved deeper into Krakoa, more female mutants gathered around, each wanting
to offer congratulations, touch her belly, or simply witness this new chapter in Emma Frost's life.
The White Queen, once feared and mistrusted, now found herself at the center of a circle of
genuine care and excitement. It was a strange feeling—this belonging—but as one of the babies
gave a particularly strong kick against her ribs, Emma found herself surprisingly grateful for this
community that would help protect and nurture her growing family.
The growing crowd of well-wishers began to move as one, guiding Emma through Krakoa's living
pathways. The flowered archways seemed to bend slightly as she passed, as if the sentient
island itself was acknowledging her presence and the precious cargo she carried. Her diamondhard palm occasionally rested on her stomach when one of the twins delivered a particularly
enthusiastic kick.
"The Quiet Council has been waiting since we received your message this morning," Kitty said,
walking close beside Emma. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Though I think
Magneto's been pacing for the last hour. He tries to hide it, but he's actually excited about these
babies." She grinned, phasing her hand through a low-hanging branch without breaking stride.
"Apparently, potential beyond-omega mutants are cause for even the Master of Magnetism to
get sentimental."
Emma arched an elegant eyebrow. "Erik's always had a soft spot for powerful bloodlines.
Though I doubt sentimentality has much to do with it." She adjusted her cape with a practiced
flick of her wrist. "Politicians rarely do anything without calculating the advantages first—a trait
I can hardly criticize, given my own history."
Rogue chuckled, her gloved hand lightly touching Emma's shoulder. "Sugar, you've changed
more than you'd like to admit. Four years with Peter Parker has softened those diamond
edges—just enough to make you even more formidable." Her green eyes twinkled knowingly.
"Ain't nothing more dangerous than a mama bear protecting her cubs."
"Perhaps," Emma conceded with the ghost of a smile. "Though I'd prefer to think of it as
expanding my strategic priorities rather than softening." She placed a protective hand over her
stomach as they approached the imposing structure that housed the Quiet Council chambers.
"These children will have every advantage I can provide—including alliances with Krakoa, should
they prove beneficial."
When they reached the ornate living door of the Council chambers, the Cuckoos formed a
perfect half-circle around Emma. "We'll wait here," they said in unison, their blonde heads
nodding as one. "The Council prefers privacy for official discussions."
"Though nothing stays private with five telepaths listening in," Kitty added with a wink. "Call if
you need anything, Emma. And I mean anything. The rest of us will be in the habitat preparing
for tonight's welcome dinner." One by one, the female mutants dispersed, each offering final
congratulations and touches to Emma's belly, until only Jean and Mystique remained at her
side.
Jean placed a hand gently on Emma's back. "Ready? Charles and Erik can be overeager when it
comes to planning for the future of mutantkind." Her emerald eyes met Emma's ice-blue gaze
with understanding. "Just remember, you're holding all the cards here—quite literally." She
glanced meaningfully at Emma's pregnant form.
The living door parted silently as they approached, unfurling like petals to reveal the circular
chamber within. Seated at the grand table carved from Krakoan wood were only two figures:
Charles Xavier, his bald head gleaming in the soft bioluminescent light, and Erik Lehnsherr, regal
in his customary burgundy armor and cape. Both men rose as Emma entered, their expressions
warming despite the formality of the setting.
"Emma," Charles said, stepping forward to greet her with genuine warmth in his voice. "You
look radiant, as always. Please, sit." He gestured to a specially prepared chair—wider and more
cushioned than the others, clearly designed with her comfort in mind. "We're delighted you and
Peter agreed to our proposal so quickly. Two days is quite efficient, even by your impressive
standards."
Erik approached more slowly, his piercing eyes taking in her condition with undisguised interest.
"Indeed. We expected weeks of negotiation, knowing your protective instincts." His lips curved
into a rare smile as he gestured toward the chair. "Your fiancé's sense of responsibility must
have aligned well with our arguments for cooperation."
Emma settled into the offered seat with practiced grace despite her unwieldy form. "Peter has
always been amenable to doing the right thing—it's his most charming and frustrating quality."
A sly smile played across her perfectly painted lips. "Though I'll admit, I have my ways of being...
persuasive when necessary." She delicately rested her left hand on the table, allowing the light
to catch the remarkable ring adorning her finger—a massive diamond set in vibranium, the
metal's distinctive dark luster contrasting beautifully with the brilliance of the stone.
Charles' eyes widened slightly as he noticed the ring. "Ah, congratulations are in order then. The
engagement is official?" He took his seat across from Emma, his expression genuinely pleased.
"A wedding as well as new additions to the family—this is indeed a season of celebration."
"About time," Mystique commented dryly, taking a seat beside Emma without waiting for an
invitation. Her yellow eyes fixed on the impressive ring with calculating appreciation. "I was
beginning to think you'd deliver those twins before locking down the father. Four years is
practically an eternity in relationship terms—especially with Spider-Man's track record with
blondes." Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Though I imagined you dragging him to the altar
the moment the pregnancy test showed positive."
Jean shot Mystique a warning glance before taking her own seat. "What Mystique means is that
we're all happy for you, Emma. Peter is a good man—one of the best. The engagement is
wonderful news."
Emma rested her hand protectively over her swollen belly, watching as Jean took the seat to her
right while Mystique settled on her left. The arrangement felt deliberate—flanking her like
elegant sentinels. "I'm curious," Emma said, her voice cool and measured despite the warmth of
the chamber, "why you two are staying for what I assumed would be a private discussion about
the arrangement between Storm and Peter." Her ice-blue eyes flickered between Charles and
Erik with practiced nonchalance. "Unless there's something more to this proposal than you
initially suggested?"
Erik cleared his throat, exchanging a brief glance with Charles before responding. "Word has
spread among certain circles on Krakoa about the... difficulty many mutants are having with
conception." His deep voice carried a gravity that filled the chamber. "Despite our resurrections
protocols and advancements in medicine, fertility issues persist among our kind. When your
pregnancy became known—particularly with twins—it raised significant interest."
"We made a private announcement to a select group of trustworthy mutants," Charles
continued, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Those we knew would be discreet and whose
judgment we trust implicitly. The response was more enthusiastic than we anticipated." His eyes
briefly met Jean's before returning to Emma. "If all goes well with the initial arrangement with
Storm, both Jean and Mystique have volunteered to participate as well."
Emma's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched as she turned toward Jean, a slow, knowing smirk
spreading across her face. "Really, Jean? Don't you have enough future children running around
the timestream already?" She tilted her head, diamond glinting briefly beneath her skin as one
of the twins delivered a particularly energetic kick. "What do Scott and Logan think about this
generous offer of yours? I imagine the Summers-Grey-Howlett dynamic is complicated enough
without adding Parker DNA to the mix."
Jean's expression remained serene, though a flash of something—perhaps irritation or
amusement—passed behind her emerald eyes. "I make my own choices, Emma. Always have."
She brushed a strand of fiery hair from her face with practiced elegance. "I'm not married to
Logan, whatever rumors you might enjoy spreading. And Scott..." she paused, a small smile
playing at her lips, "Scott understands the need. The future of mutantkind has always been his
priority, even above personal feelings."
Emma's smirk widened into something almost predatory. "I'm sure he does understand. Scott
always was accommodating that way." She tapped her manicured nails lightly against the table's
surface. "Must have been quite comfortable in that cuck chair, watching you with Logan all
these years." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced toward the Cuckoos' distant
mental presence. "Perhaps my girls could fashion a similar one for him while you're being filled
with Parker seed. They're quite skilled with Krakoan furnishings these days."
Mystique made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "Always the diplomat, Frost."
Her yellow eyes gleamed with amusement as she shifted in her seat, her blue skin catching the
bioluminescent light. "Though I'm more curious about the practical arrangements. When is this
breeding program of yours supposed to begin?" She glanced around the chamber with obvious
skepticism. "And where is Storm? Seeing as she's supposedly the number one volunteer for this
intimate diplomatic mission."
Charles adjusted his position, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time since the meeting
began. "Ororo had a rather urgent engagement in New York that required her immediate
attention. A matter she's been monitoring for some time related to changing weather patterns
over Manhattan." His voice carried the careful neutrality of someone navigating sensitive
terrain. "She'll join us on Krakoa once that situation is resolved."
"An engagement in New York?" Emma repeated, her tone deceptively light. She studied the two
men's faces, noting the subtle tension in their expressions. A laugh bubbled up from her throat,
genuine amusement replacing her calculated facade. "She's gone to see Peter, hasn't she? While
I'm sitting here discussing theoretical arrangements, the Weather Goddess is already positioning
herself for a private demonstration of his abilities." She shook her head, platinum blonde hair
swaying gently with the movement. "How delightfully presumptuous of her."
Erik shifted in his seat, his usually commanding presence momentarily diminished by what
appeared to be discomfort. "We thought it might be... better if the initial contact proceeded
without your direct involvement, Emma." He gestured vaguely with one gloved hand. "Given
your condition and the emotional complications that might arise, a certain distance seemed
prudent. Storm volunteered to approach Peter first, to explain the proposal from a perspective
he might find less... personally entangled."
"What Erik means," Charles interjected smoothly, "is that we wanted to respect both your
current state and the delicate nature of such an arrangement. Having Storm present the idea
independently allows Peter to consider it without feeling pressured by your presence or
influence." He offered what was clearly meant to be a reassuring smile. "It's merely a
preliminary discussion at this stage—nothing will proceed without full consent and
transparency from all parties."
Emma simply shrugged, her diamond-hard palm caressing the swell of her belly in a gesture that
somehow managed to appear both protective and triumphant. "By all means, let them have
their little tête-à-tête." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure
Storm will be very... thorough in explaining the benefits of the arrangement." The babies shifted
beneath her touch, as if responding to her amusement. "Peter does have a way of making even
the most complicated situations seem straightforward. It's one of his more useful talents."
Mystique's gaze narrowed slightly as she studied Emma's surprisingly relaxed response. "You're
taking this remarkably well, Frost. I expected ice sculptures and diamond rage when you
realized Storm had essentially jumped the queue to proposition your fiancé." Her tone carried a
note of suspicion. "What are you not telling us?"
A look of serene confidence settled over Emma's features as she leaned back in her specially
prepared chair, every inch the queen despite her currently ungainly form. "Let's just say I've
learned to be prepared for every contingency during my time with Peter. His particular brand of
luck tends to create... interesting situations." She allowed herself a small, private smile.
"Besides, I've always believed in visual learning. Sometimes seeing is believing—and recording is
even better."
Jean's eyes widened fractionally as understanding dawned. "Emma, you didn't..." she began,
her telepathic senses picking up on the edges of the other woman's smug satisfaction.
"Cameras, Jean? In our home?" Emma's expression was one of mock innocence, though her
eyes glittered with mischief. "What kind of paranoid, controlling person do you take me for?"
She adjusted her position to better accommodate her pregnant belly, wincing slightly as one of
the twins delivered a particularly enthusiastic kick. "Though I will say, if—hypothetically
speaking—such surveillance measures existed, they would provide fascinating documentation
for future reference." Her smile turned knife-sharp. "No way I'm missing the opportunity to see
that haughty weather goddess break on Peter's cock. Some moments deserve to be preserved
for posterity... and personal entertainment.