Peter blinked as he woke up on the expensive, comfortable couch, rubbing away the sleepiness
from his eyes. The penthouse was dark, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the
floor-to-ceiling windows. He stretched, his muscular frame extending to its full length as he
worked out the kinks from his impromptu nap. The patrol earlier had been routine but
exhausting—three muggings, one attempted carjacking, and a domestic dispute that thankfully
resolved peacefully.
He got up and turned the apartment lights on, bathing the expensive decor and furniture in
warm light. The place was a perfect blend of Emma's sophisticated taste and his more practical
sensibilities—sleek white furniture accented with blue and red throw pillows, modern art pieces
alongside framed scientific journals. The photos of him and Emma on the wall made him smile,
reminders of just how happy he was with her.
He had come home after a patrol a bit tired and seeing as Emma wasn't back yet from Krakoa
yet or discussing the "Peter breeding program" with Storm. The whole thing still made him
blush when he thought about it—Emma and the Quiet Council essentially designating him as
genetically optimal for mutant-human hybridization.
The penthouse felt empty without Emma's presence. Peter had decided to have a small nap,
collapsing on the couch still in his Spider-Man suit minus the mask. Now, in just his boxers and a
tank top, he padded barefoot across the cool marble floor toward the kitchen. The silence of
the apartment was calming after the noise of the city.
He grabbed some cold passion juice from the expensive fridge, stocked with food from around
the world—perks of being attached to one of the wealthiest mutants on the planet. The fridge
itself probably cost more than his old apartment's annual rent. Peter took a long swig directly
from the bottle, something Emma would chide him for with an arched eyebrow and barely
concealed amusement.
The cold juice refreshed him as he leaned against the counter, wondering if he should stop by
the Parker-Frost labs to do some research. He was particularly excited about their current
breakthrough in rapid healing technology that could benefit both humans and mutants.
A knock came at the door, three precise taps that echoed through the spacious apartment.
Peter looked at the door then at his watch. 7 pm. Was it Emma? Strange that she'd knock rather
than use her key or simply telepathically announce her presence. Perhaps her hands were full
with shopping bags—going on a shopping trip after krakoa.
Peter quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and moved to the door. His spider-sense wasn't
tingling, so there was no danger, but he still approached with the cautiousness ingrained from
years as Spider-Man. He opened the door only to be greeted by Storm in an expensive and
tasteful coat, crisp white shirt and tight leather jeans, her flowing white hair cascading down
one side of her head while the other was elegantly slicked down. Her expensive heeled boots
added to her already impressive height, making her nearly eye-level with him.
"Peter," Storm said, her voice rich and melodious, with that hint of an accent that never failed
to sound regal. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Her eyes, those striking blue-white orbs,
took in his state of undress with an appreciative glance that was not entirely professional.
"Ororo," Peter replied, suddenly very conscious of his bare chest and low-slung sweatpants.
"Uh, no, not interrupting. I was just... I mean, I was expecting Emma, actually. Is she with you?"
He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter the penthouse, the manners his Aunt May had
instilled in him overriding his momentary awkwardness.
Storm glided into the apartment with the grace of a natural goddess, the scent of ozone and
exotic perfume following her. "Emma is still on Krakoa, finalizing some details with the Quiet
Council. She sent me to... brief you on some developments." The way she emphasized 'brief'
made Peter's spider-sense tingle in an entirely different way than usual.
"What developments?" Peter asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Wasn't Emma supposed to
be there with you discussing the..." His voice trailed off as understanding dawned across his
features. "Ohhhh." A deep blush spread across his cheeks as Storm nodded, her lips curving into
a knowing smile.
"I see Emma's telepathic abilities are rubbing off on you," Storm said, her accent rolling the
words deliciously. "Yes, I decided to get a head start on this whole breeding project while Emma
is otherwise entertained at Krakoa." She moved further into the apartment, her hips swaying
hypnotically with each step. "As soon as Emma sent word that you had agreed, I simply waited
until she reached Krakoa, used the gateway to New York, then waited until you returned home."
Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his mind racing. "I, uh... thought there would be
more discussion about all this. You know, logistics, schedules, that sort of thing." He was
rambling now, a habit that emerged whenever he was nervous.
Storm turned to face him, her expression serene yet determined. "I didn't see the need for
more discussion, Peter. The Quiet Council has approved, Emma has consented, and you have
agreed. The science is sound—your unique genetic structure combined with powerful mutant
lineages could create extraordinary offspring." The clinical way she described it somehow made
it even more arousing. "Would you like me to leave?"
"No! I mean—" Peter cleared his throat. "Can I offer you something to drink? I have some
passion juice in the fridge." He gestured toward the kitchen, desperate for something normal to
do in this decidedly abnormal situation.
"That would be lovely," Storm replied, beginning to unbutton her expensive coat. "Though I
must admit, the name seems rather fitting for the occasion."
Peter hurried to the kitchen, grateful for the momentary reprieve. He grabbed two glasses from
the cabinet—actual glasses this time, not drinking straight from the bottle—and filled them
with the sweet, tangy juice. His heart hammered against his ribs as he heard the soft rustle of
fabric from the living room.
When he returned with the drinks, Storm had removed her coat and draped it carefully over the
arm of the couch. Peter nearly dropped both glasses as he took in the sight of her. The crisp
white shirt she wore was tailored impeccably to her form, the buttons straining slightly against
the fullness of her breasts. Without the coat, he could see how the fabric clung to every curve,
the outline of her bra visible beneath the thin material.
"Here you go," Peter said, his voice sounding strangled even to his own ears as he handed her a
glass. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, sending an electric current up his arm that had
nothing to do with her weather powers.
Storm took a long, deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass. A small
drop of juice lingered on her lower lip, and she slowly caught it with her tongue. "Delicious," she
murmured, setting the glass down on the coffee table. "Now, shall we discuss how we're going
to approach this project, or would you prefer a more... hands-on demonstration?" Peter gulped
audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes fixed on the way her shirt stretched
across her chest with each breath she took.
Peter set his glass down with a shaky hand, his mind racing. Despite the obvious attraction he
felt for Storm, something didn't feel quite right about the suddenness of it all.
"Wait, Ororo. Aren't we rushing this a bit?" Peter asked, running a hand through his tousled
brown hair. "I mean, Emma and I just talked about this yesterday, and now you're here and..."
He gestured vaguely between them, struggling to find the right words. "Are you really sure you
want to sleep with me? Just like that?"
Storm's eyebrow arched elegantly as she regarded him with those piercing eyes. "You doubt my
intentions?"
"No, it's not that," Peter said quickly. "You're beautiful, gorgeous even. Any man would be lucky
to have you. But surely just sleeping with me to have babies is... I don't know, beneath you?
You're Storm. You command the weather, lead nations. You could have anyone."
A soft smile graced Storm's full lips, her expression warming. "I'm actually heartened by your
concern, Peter. It speaks to your character." She moved closer to him, the scent of rain and
distant lightning enveloping him. "But you must understand, this is bigger than me. Bigger than
both of us."
She placed a hand on his bare chest, her touch cool against his warm skin. "The children you
could give me—and other mutants—might share your genetic virility and fertility, bypassing
whatever it is that's making mutants struggle to conceive, just as you did with Emma." Her eyes
met his, intense and serious. "We've been monitoring the pregnancy rates among mutants.
They're declining dramatically. Something is targeting our ability to reproduce."
"If you give me enough children," Storm continued, her voice dropping to a sultry timbre, "our
offspring would be powerful, beautiful, the ones to continue mutantkind, passing on my genes
and yours to future generations." Her fingers traced the defined muscles of his abdomen. "That
is an honor worth warming your bed for, wouldn't you agree?"
Peter's breath caught as Storm moved closer still, her body radiating heat despite her cool
exterior. "Besides," she murmured, "despite your annoying banter in battle, Spider-Man is a
hero. Who else better to father my children?" She paused, her eyes challenging him as she
added, "Or am I not good enough for you, Peter Parker?"
As she asked the question, Storm moved her body forward, deliberately showcasing her chest.
The buttons of her shirt strained further, revealing glimpses of dark skin and the lace of her bra
beneath. She turned slightly, giving Peter a clear view of how those tight leather jeans hugged
the perfect curve of her ass.
Peter's mouth went dry as he took in the sight of her. Storm wasn't just beautiful—she was a
force of nature personified, power and grace wrapped in a package so stunning it almost hurt to
look at her. The thought of her carrying his child, of creating something together that would be
both powerful and beautiful, sent a rush of heat through his body that settled low in his belly.
"Or is it I have annoyed you somehow?" Storm asked, her confident demeanor wavering slightly.
Her eyes searched his, seeking understanding. "I recall how sharp I was with you the last time
you taught at Xavier's. Perhaps that memory still stings."
Peter shook his head, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on her arm. "No, it's not that,
Ororo. Though I'll admit..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Since Krakoa was
founded, most of the X-Men have really gone hard with the whole 'mutants only' stance. That
stung a bit, you know? After fighting beside you all so many times."
Storm looked away, her magnificent profile outlined against the city lights streaming through
the windows. "I apologize for that, Peter. Truly." Her voice carried genuine regret. "It was a wave
of patriotism and possessiveness that overtook all mutants when we got Krakoa. After being
dogged, killed, and hunted by anti-mutants for so long, we wanted something that was ours
alone." She turned back to him, her eyes luminous with emotion. "It wasn't right to push away
allies like you."
The tension in the room shifted, becoming something deeper, more primal. Storm stood up, her
movements fluid and graceful. Peter's breath caught as she began unbuttoning her crisp white
shirt, revealing inch by inch of flawless dark skin beneath. The garment slipped from her
shoulders and fell silently to the floor.
"Maybe I need to make amends more... thoroughly," she said, her voice dropping to a husky
whisper as her fingers moved to the fastening of her tight leather trousers. She slid them down
her long, toned legs with deliberate slowness, revealing silk panties that barely contained the
swell of her ass.
Peter sat frozen, unable to look away as Storm reached behind her back to unclasp her lace bra.
The delicate fabric joined her other clothes on the floor, freeing her large, perfect breasts, dark
nipples hardening in the cool air of the apartment. The silk panties followed, sliding down her
thighs as Storm stepped out of her boots, now completely naked before him.
"Do you like what you see, Spider?" Storm asked, turning slowly to give him a full view of her
goddess-like body. Her breasts were full and high, defying gravity in a way that had nothing to
do with her mutant powers. Her waist tapered to flared hips, and between her powerful thighs,
a neatly trimmed patch of white hair matched the cascading locks on her head. She turned
again, showcasing her round, firm ass that seemed sculpted from the finest marble.
With feline grace, Storm bent over the couch, arching her back and presenting herself to him.
She looked over her shoulder, blue-white eyes challenging him as she wiggled her ass invitingly.
"If you want, Peter, you can punish me for how dismissive I've been," she purred, spreading her
legs slightly. "Punish this mutant ass for treating you badly as a non-mutant."
Peter gulped as he took in the sight before him—Storm's magnificent body bent over his couch,
her perfect ass swaying invitingly. She turned away from him with a knowing smirk, continuing
to shake her hips in a hypnotic rhythm. The goddess of weather was offering herself to him, and
Peter felt his body responding with primal intensity.
"Well, Spider?" Storm purred, glancing over her shoulder. "Are you going to make me wait all
night?" Her blue eyes glittered with mischief as she arched her back further, presenting her
glistening sex to him. The white tuft of hair between her legs was already damp with arousal.
Storm felt Peter's strong hands grasp her ass, his fingers kneading the firm flesh with
appreciation. It's always the ass that gets them going, she thought smugly. She waited to hear
the rustle of his sweatpants hitting the floor, anticipating his hardness pressing against her
entrance. Instead, she felt him sink to his knees behind her.
"Oh goddess!" Storm moaned loudly, her body jolting with shock and pleasure as Peter's hot
mouth found her center. His tongue delved between her folds with surprising expertise,
exploring her depths with deliberate, confident strokes. Her powerful legs began to tremble as
he worked his magic, his hands spreading her cheeks to gain better access.
"Fuck, Peter!" she gasped, her accent thickening with arousal. "Your tongue... by the Bright
Lady... so deep..." Her words dissolved into incoherent moans as Peter sucked her swollen clit
between his lips, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her toes curl against the
expensive marble floor.
Peter worked with focused determination, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue
and precise, targeted flicks that made Storm's thighs quiver. He devoured her like a man
starved, his hands gripping her hips firmly to keep her steady as her body threatened to buckle
under the onslaught of pleasure.
"Praise the goddess," Storm breathed, her head thrown back, white hair cascading down her
spine. "A man who knows to care for a woman's needs first." Her hand reached back to grasp
his hair, pressing him more firmly against her dripping center. "No wonder Emma has locked you
down. The White Queen... ah!... has excellent taste."
Peter hummed against her flesh, sending vibrations through her core that made lightning
crackle from Storm's fingertips. The temperature in the room fluctuated wildly as her control
over her powers wavered under the assault of sensation. Rain began to patter against the
penthouse windows, responding to the building tempest within her body.
"Yes, right there!" Storm commanded, her voice carrying the authority of someone used to
controlling the elements. Her hips bucked against his face as his tongue found a particularly
sensitive spot. "Don't stop, Spider... I'm close... so close..." The weather outside intensified,
wind howling around the building as Peter redoubled his efforts, his tongue circling and flicking
with precision.
The storm inside and out reached its crescendo simultaneously. "PETER!" Ororo screamed, her
body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Thunder boomed outside, rattling
the windows as lightning split the New York sky. Her juices flooded his eager mouth as Peter
continued to lick and suck, drawing out her orgasm until she finally collapsed forward onto the
couch, her legs no longer able to support her weight.
Storm collapsed onto the couch, her magnificent body trembling in the aftermath of her
powerful climax. Her chest heaved with each desperate breath, sweat glistening on her dark
skin like morning dew. Outside, the storm she had inadvertently summoned was already
beginning to dissipate, the rain slowing to a gentle patter against the penthouse windows. "By
the goddess," she panted, her accent thicker than usual, "that was... unexpected."
Peter, still on his knees behind her, didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently spread her
thighs once more, his tongue returning to her oversensitive flesh with surprising tenderness.
Storm gasped, her body jerking at the contact, but he held her steady with firm hands on her
thighs. His touch was different now—not the ravenous hunger of before, but something almost
reverent as he lapped softly at her dripping entrance.
"Peter," Storm moaned, her voice wavering as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her core.
"What are you... oh!" Her words dissolved into a shuddering gasp as his tongue circled inside
her, gathering the evidence of her release with deliberate, gentle strokes. The sensation was
overwhelming—not building toward another peak, but somehow extending the one she'd just
experienced, keeping her suspended in a state of delicious sensitivity.
His hands kneaded the firm muscles of her ass and thighs as he continued his ministrations, his
tongue tracing lazy patterns across her swollen labia before dipping back inside. Each slow circle
of his tongue sent fresh tremors through her body, making her thighs quake and her toes curl.
Storm felt herself melting under his careful attention, her usual regal composure utterly
abandoned in the face of such exquisite care.
As Peter continued his gentle aftercare, Storm's mind wandered to four years ago on Krakoa.
Emma had moved quickly then, hadn't she? The White Queen had always had an eye for
potential, and she'd recognized something in Peter Parker that the rest of them had overlooked.
Not his powers—impressive as they were—but something about the man himself. His heart. His
mind. His genetic compatibility with their kind. And now, Emma was carrying his child, their
DNA intertwined in what promised to be an extraordinary offspring.
"You're thinking too loudly," Peter murmured against her inner thigh, his breath hot against her
sensitive skin. "I may not be a telepath like Emma, but I can tell when someone's mind is
elsewhere." His tongue flicked teasingly against her still-throbbing clit, making her gasp.
Storm reached back to run her fingers through his tousled hair. "I was thinking about Emma,"
she admitted, her voice husky. "About how she saw what a treasure you were before the rest of
us did." She bit her lip as his tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. "If I hadn't been so
occupied with Cypher and his work on the Krakoan language at the time, I might have pursued
you myself." The thought made her clench around his tongue, drawing a groan from him that
vibrated against her core.
"Mmm, is that so?" Peter asked, finally pulling away from her glistening sex. He stood up behind
her, and Storm turned to see that his sweatpants did little to hide his impressive arousal. He
bent down, sliding his strong arms beneath her still-trembling body. "Well, better late than
never, right?"
With effortless strength—a reminder of the power hidden beneath his unassuming demeanor—
Peter lifted Storm into his arms. She draped her arms around his neck, still liquid and pliant from
her release, as he carried her through the penthouse. "Where are we going, Spider?" she asked,
though she already knew the answer.
"Bedroom," Peter replied simply, his voice deeper than usual, roughened by desire. Storm felt a
thrill run through her at the single word, at the promise it contained. He pushed open a door
with his foot, revealing a spacious master bedroom dominated by an enormous bed with crisp
white sheets.
Storm's lips curved into a knowing smirk as Peter gently laid her across the bed. "Is this where
you pounded Emma's mutant pussy into submission until you bred her?" she asked
provocatively, spreading her legs to reveal her still-wet center. "Where you filled the White
Queen with your seed until it took root inside her?" The crudeness of her words was deliberate,
designed to provoke him, to strip away the last of his hesitation.
Peter growled, his eyes darkening with primal hunger as he looked down at Storm's magnificent
form spread across his bed. "I might just do the same to you," he said, his voice dropping an
octave lower. "Fill you up until you're swollen with my child, just like Emma." The words came
out rougher than he intended, but the sight of the weather goddess offering herself so brazenly
had stripped away his usual restraint.
Storm just smiled, a knowing, confident curve of her full lips. "I would expect nothing less,
Spider," she purred, her accent thickening with desire. "That is, after all, why I came here. To be
bred by you, to carry your powerful offspring." She extended her arms toward him in invitation,
her eyes glowing faintly with power and anticipation.
Their bodies met in a crash of desire, mouths finding each other in a kiss that was far from
gentle. Peter's lips claimed hers with unexpected dominance, his tongue invading her mouth as
his hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. Storm moaned into the kiss, her
body arching up against his, her hardened nipples brushing against his bare chest. The kiss
deepened, becoming almost violent in its intensity, teeth clashing and tongues battling for
dominance.
Peter finally broke away, standing at the edge of the bed and looking down at Storm with naked
hunger. His hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down over his hips
in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled at his feet, and Storm's eyes widened as his manhood
sprang free.
"Goddess!" Storm almost screamed, her usual composure completely shattered as she stared at
Peter's exposed cock. Nine thick inches jutted proudly from a nest of brown curls, the head
swollen and glistening with precum. It was magnificent—thick enough that her fingers wouldn't
meet around it, with prominent veins running along its considerable length. Between his legs
hung heavy testicles that promised virility beyond what she had anticipated.
Storm felt her mouth water as she mentally praised the heavens. She had been with gods and
kings, but the sight before her was truly impressive. "By the Bright Lady," she breathed, her eyes
fixed on his member. "I understand now why Emma has been so... possessive."
No wonder Emma had fled Krakoa and kept him to herself for four years, Storm thought as she
reached for him, her fingers aching to feel that impressive length. Peter must have been blowing
the White Queen's back out daily with that cock until she couldn't take any more. The thought
of Emma Frost—the ice-cold, composed telepath—reduced to a screaming, begging mess
beneath Peter sent a fresh flood of arousal between Storm's thighs.
"It is actually a miracle you didn't get the White Queen pregnant earlier," Storm said, her eyes
flicking up to meet his before returning to his impressive manhood. "Though perhaps she was
simply being selfish, wanting to keep this all to herself before allowing others to sample what
she had discovered." Her hand finally reached him, fingers wrapping around his shaft, marveling
at the heat and hardness beneath velvet-soft skin.
Peter hissed through clenched teeth as Storm's cool fingers explored his length, stroking from
base to tip with deliberate slowness. "Emma said the same thing," he admitted, his voice
strained with the effort of maintaining control. "Said she was surprised it took so long, given
how often we—" He broke off with a groan as Storm's thumb circled the sensitive head,
spreading the bead of precum that had gathered there.
"By the size of these balls of yours," Storm murmured appreciatively, her free hand cupping the
heavy sac, weighing it with gentle pressure, "you must be packing near gallons of cum." She
looked up at him through hooded eyes, her expression hungry and reverent. "I look forward to
feeling every drop of it flood my womb."
Peter's control snapped at her words. The sight of Storm—goddess of the elements—sprawled
across his bed, speaking of being bred by him, shattered the last of his restraint. With spiderenhanced speed that left her gasping, he was suddenly looming over her on the bed, his
powerful body caging hers as he spread her muscular thighs with firm hands. Storm's eyes
widened at his sudden transformation from careful lover to dominant male, a change that sent
fresh arousal flooding through her core.
"Fuck, Ororo," Peter growled, his voice barely recognizable as he positioned himself between
her spread legs, the thick head of his cock nudging against her entrance. Despite the animal lust
coursing through him, he paused, leaning down to capture her lips in a surprisingly tender kiss.
"I'll give you everything you want," he murmured against her mouth, his eyes locking with hers.
"I promise I'll make this good for you. I won't disappoint you."
Storm's hands stroked his face, touched by the gentleness still present beneath his obvious
hunger. "I know you won't, Spider," she whispered, her accent thick with desire. "Now show me
what you've been giving Emma all these years. Show me why the White Queen keeps you so—"
Her words transformed into a primal scream as Peter suddenly drove forward, burying his entire
nine-inch length inside her in one powerful thrust.
"GODDESS!" Storm cried out, her back arching dramatically off the bed as lightning flashed
outside the windows, illuminating their joined bodies in stark relief. The sudden, complete
penetration sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain radiating through her entire body. Despite her
considerable experience, nothing had prepared her for the sensation of being so utterly filled,
stretched to her limits around his impressive girth. "Peter! By the Bright Lady!"
Her strong legs instinctively locked around his waist, her ankles crossing behind his back as her
body naturally shifted into the perfect mating press. The movement drove him even deeper,
making both of them groan as the head of his cock kissed the entrance to her womb. Outside,
thunder boomed in response to Storm's pleasure, the elements themselves resonating with her
heightened state of arousal.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Peter hissed through clenched teeth, his arms braced on either side of
her head as he began to move within her. Each withdraw revealed inches of his glistening shaft
before he drove forward again, bottoming out inside her with wet, obscene sounds that filled
the bedroom. "So fucking perfect, Ororo. Your pussy feels like it was made for my cock."
Storm couldn't form coherent responses anymore, reduced to gasping cries and fractured pleas
as Peter established a relentless rhythm, his hips slamming against hers with enough force to
make the sturdy bed frame creak in protest. Her powerful thighs trembled around him, her
ankles digging into his back as if afraid he might try to withdraw. "More!" she managed to gasp
between thrusts, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red welts. "Harder,
Spider! Breed this mutant goddess!"
Peter responded by shifting his weight, pressing her legs back toward her chest as he leaned
into the mating press fully, using his spider-strength to pin her beneath him. The new angle
allowed him to pound even deeper, his heavy balls slapping against her ass with each powerful
thrust. Storm's eyes rolled back as she felt him reach places inside her that had never been
touched before, his thick cock reshaping her inner walls to accommodate his size.
The minutes blurred into an hour as Peter continued his relentless assault on Storm's willing
body. His hips pistoned with spider-enhanced stamina, each powerful thrust driving his thick
shaft to her very core. Sweat glistened on their bodies, the sheets beneath them soaked with
their combined passion. Storm's white hair splayed across the pillows like lightning frozen in
time, her blue eyes clouded with ecstasy as Peter dominated her completely.
"Is this what you wanted, Ororo?" Peter growled into her ear, his voice rough with exertion and
arousal. "To have your haughty mutant cunt punished by the non-mutant you all looked down
on?" His words were harsh but his eyes betrayed a mixture of passion and lingering hurt from
years of feeling like an outsider among the X-Men. "All those times you commanded the
elements, ruled over Wakanda, sat on your thrones... and now you're just begging for my seed
like any other woman."
Storm's back arched violently at his words, another climax tearing through her powerful body.
"Yes!" she screamed, her accent thick and unrestrained. "Punish me, Spider! Show this goddess
what true power feels like!" Lightning flashed outside the windows in perfect rhythm with her
contractions, illuminating their joined bodies in stark, electric bursts. Her inner walls clamped
down on his throbbing length, milking him desperately as if attempting to extract his seed
through sheer force of will.
Rather than push him away, Storm's arms wrapped tighter around his shoulders, pulling him
closer as her legs locked around his waist with mutant strength. Her lips found his sweat-slicked
neck, pressing desperate, reverent kisses along his pulse point before moving to his jaw. "You
are magnificent," she gasped between kisses, her words punctuated by the thunder that rolled
across New York City. "Better than any king, any mutant, any god I have known."
Her mouth captured his in a kiss that was both savage and tender, her tongue invading his
mouth with the same determination he showed in conquering her body. As they broke apart for
air, Storm's eyes glowed white with power, small sparks of electricity dancing between them as
her control over her abilities wavered under the onslaught of pleasure. "I will give you as many
children as you desire, Peter Parker," she vowed, her voice carrying the solemnity of an oath
despite the circumstances. "My womb will belong to you alone. I shall be your mutant slut, your
weather goddess to command in bed and out."
Her declaration seemed to awaken something primal in Peter. With a feral growl that would
have made Wolverine proud, he redoubled his efforts, driving into her with enough force to
make the headboard slam rhythmically against the wall. The entire bedroom seemed to shake
with each thrust, the windows rattling in their frames as Storm's powers leaked out in response
to her overwhelming pleasure. "That's right," Peter hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes dark
with dominance. "Your mutant womb belongs to me now. I'm going to fill it up every night until
it takes, and then keep filling it anyway."
Storm could only respond with broken cries and fractured pleas in her native tongue, her mind
unable to form coherent English as Peter reduced her to pure sensation. Her fifteenth—or was it
twentieth?—orgasm rippled through her, leaving her limp and trembling beneath him, yet still
he continued, his impressive stamina showing no signs of flagging. The contrast between her
temporary weakness and his continued strength only heightened her pleasure, reminding her of
the power contained within his deceptively average-looking form.
Suddenly, Peter stilled his movements, withdrawing his throbbing length from her quivering
entrance. Before Storm could protest the emptiness, he was moving with that inhuman speed
again, flipping her boneless body until her back was pressed against his chest. His strong arms
hooked under her knees, pulling her legs upward and apart into a full nelson that left her
completely exposed and at his mercy. "Want to see what you look like when I breed you," he
murmured, his hot breath tickling her ear as he positioned her directly in front of the floorlength mirror on his closet door.
Storm's eyes widened at the lewd display—her magnificent body suspended and spread open,
her sex glistening and swollen from their activities, Peter's powerful frame supporting her
entirely as if she weighed nothing. She barely had time to process the erotic image before Peter
thrust upward, impaling her once more in one smooth motion that had her screaming his name.
The new angle sent him even deeper, the head of his cock pressing directly against spots inside
her that made stars explode behind her eyes.
As Peter established a new rhythm, bouncing Storm on his cock with powerful upward thrusts,
the weather outside responded dramatically to her pleasure. A torrential downpour lashed
against the windows, lightning split the sky in continuous, brilliant forks, and wind howled
around the building with hurricane force. Inside the penthouse, small objects began to levitate
as Storm's telekinetic abilities manifested involuntarily, her control completely shattered by the
overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. "Yes, Peter! Fill me!" she cried out, her
head thrown back against his shoulder, white hair cascading down his chest as New York City
experienced the most intense summer storm in decades—all because Spider-Man was fucking
the goddess of weather into absolute oblivion.
Hour after hour melted away as Peter continued his relentless upward thrusts, his superhuman
stamina showing no signs of fatigue. Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, slick with
sweat that glistened in the flashes of lightning still illuminating the New York skyline. The storm
outside had developed into a full-fledged hurricane, winds howling around the penthouse as if
the elements themselves were screaming in ecstasy along with their mistress. Peter's powerful
arms held Storm firmly in the full nelson position, leaving her completely at his mercy as he
bounced her on his thick shaft with relentless energy.
"Peter! By the goddess!" Storm gasped, her once-commanding voice now a hoarse, ragged
whisper from hours of screaming. Her powerful body, which had weathered countless battles
and commanded the very forces of nature, now trembled uncontrollably in his grasp. Multiple
orgasms had left her limbs feeling like jelly, her mind floating in a euphoric haze as Peter
continued his methodical invasion of her inner sanctum. "I cannot... I cannot take any more,"
she pleaded, though her body contradicted her words as another climax ripped through her
core, her inner walls clenching desperately around his length.
The weather goddess was utterly transformed—no longer the regal, composed member of the
Quiet Council, but a woman consumed by primal need, her usual eloquence reduced to
fractured pleas and desperate moans. Her head lolled back against Peter's shoulder, her once
pristine white hair now damp with sweat and tangled from their exertions. "Please, Spider," she
begged, her accent thick with exhaustion and arousal. "I need your seed. I need you to fill me
completely."
Peter growled against her ear, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive lobe. "Is that what you want,
'Ro?" he asked, using the familiar nickname that only her closest friends used, the intimacy of it
making her shiver. "You want me to pump you full? Make you swell with my child?" His pace
never faltered as he spoke, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her
overstimulated body. "Say it again. Tell me what you need."
"I am yours, Peter Parker," Storm gasped, her voice cracking with emotion and exhaustion. "My
body, my womb—all yours to claim. Please..." She turned her head, seeking his lips with
desperate need. "Fill me with your seed. Breed me as you bred Emma." The confession seemed
to liberate something within her, the proud goddess finally surrendering completely to her
desires. "I want to carry your child. I want to feel your cum flooding my womb until I cannot
hold anymore."
Her words ignited something primal in Peter. With a sudden movement, he shifted his grip, one
hand snaking up to tangle in her sweat-dampened white hair. He pulled firmly, angling her face
toward his as their eyes locked in a moment of raw connection. "Then take it all, Ororo," he
growled, crushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was both brutal and tender. His tongue
invaded her mouth as his cock continued its relentless assault on her inner sanctum, claiming
every part of her body simultaneously.
The kiss seemed to break the last of Peter's control. His rhythm faltered for the first time,
becoming erratic and desperate as his balls tightened against his body. "Fuck, Ororo, I'm
cumming," he groaned against her lips, his arms tightening around her trembling form as he
thrust upward one final time, burying himself to the hilt inside her welcoming heat. His cock
pulsed violently, the first thick rope of his seed shooting directly against her cervix with enough
force to make her gasp.
Storm's body responded instantly to the hot flood of semen bathing her inner walls. "Yes! Peter!
YES!" she screamed, her hoarse voice cracking as a final, devastating orgasm crashed through
her body. Her pussy contracted rhythmically around his erupting cock, milking every drop of his
virile seed as if desperate to ensure conception. Outside, lightning struck the building's lightning
rod with perfect timing, the thunder that followed drowning out her screams of completion.
Storm's eyes glowed white with power as electricity crackled around the room, the overhead
lights flickering and dimming as her control over her abilities shattered completely.
As the initial intensity of their shared climax subsided, they remained joined, Peter's strong
arms now cradling Storm tenderly against his chest as they both fought to catch their breath.
His softening cock continued to pulse inside her, depositing the last few drops of his seed deep
within her womb. Storm's legs, still held in the full nelson position, trembled uncontrollably as
aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her exhausted body. "I can feel it," she whispered, her
voice barely audible as she placed a hand over her flat stomach. "So much of you, so deep
within me. I swear by the Bright Lady, I can feel your child taking root already."
Peter lowered her legs gently, repositioning them so that Storm lay comfortably across his lap,
her back against his chest as they shared lazy, tender kisses. His hands roamed her sweat-slicked
body appreciatively, cupping the weight of her perfect breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples
still sensitive from his earlier attention. One hand slid down to caress her stomach with
surprising tenderness, as if already protective of the potential life they might have created.
Eventually, his softened length slipped free from her well-used entrance, followed immediately
by a gush of thick, white fluid that pooled beneath them on the already-soaked sheets. The
sight of his abundant seed flowing from her conquered body made Peter groan with primitive
satisfaction, while Storm smiled with feminine pride at the sheer volume he had deposited
inside her.
As the thunderstorm outside gradually subsided to a gentle rainfall, Storm lay nestled against
Peter's chest, their bodies still slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion. Her fingers
traced idle patterns across his muscular torso, occasionally brushing against a scar or two—
testament to his years protecting New York City. "By the goddess," she murmured, her accent
thick with satisfaction, "if I am a storm goddess, then you must truly be a spider demigod.
Entrapping beautiful women as mates for your potent seed." Her hand drifted lower, fingertips
brushing against his softened manhood with reverent appreciation. "First Emma, now me... how
many more mutant wombs will you claim, I wonder?"
Peter chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. "It's not really all that serious," he said,
his hand idly stroking her white hair. "I mean, Emma and I... that was complicated but
something i needed. And this—" he gestured between them, "—this was unexpected. Amazing,
but unexpected."
Storm propped herself up on one elbow, her magnificent breasts pressing against his side as she
gazed down at him with knowing eyes. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk that
would have made Emma Frost proud. "Oh?" she asked, one eyebrow arched imperiously. "Then
pounding my pussy until I swore to be your woman was just something you do for everyone?
Just another Tuesday night for the Amazing Spider-Man?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a
hint of genuine curiosity beneath the playfulness.
"No! That's not what I—" Peter began, his face flushing slightly before he caught the glint in her
eyes. He laughed, shaking his head at her teasing. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't
you?" Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling
her down into a deep, possessive kiss that made her moan against his lips.
Storm melted into the kiss, her body responding instantly to his touch as if he'd flipped a switch
inside her. When they finally broke apart, her eyes were half-lidded with renewed desire.
"Perhaps I do," she whispered against his lips before placing a gentle kiss on his chin, then his
throat, then the center of his chest. Each kiss moved lower, her white hair cascading across his
torso like a waterfall as she worked her way down his body with deliberate slowness. "Perhaps I
simply wish to ensure that my god of fertility understands the depth of my devotion."
Her journey downward continued, lips pressing against his taut abdomen, tongue dipping briefly
into his navel, before finally reaching her destination. Storm's blue eyes flicked upward, holding
Peter's gaze as she found his resting, sated cock. "I vow to worship this magnificent weapon all
night," she declared with solemn reverence that somehow didn't sound ridiculous coming from
her lips. "To prepare it for the sacred task of filling my womb again and again." Her full lips
parted as she took him into her mouth, the warmth and wetness instantly causing him to stir
and begin hardening once more.
Despite his recent release and her obvious exhaustion, Storm's technique was flawless. Her lips
stretched wide to accommodate his impressive girth, her tongue working skillfully along the
underside of his shaft as she took him deeper with each bob of her head. Her hands weren't idle
either—one cupped and massaged his heavy balls with expert pressure, while the other stroked
what her mouth couldn't yet reach as he returned to his full, intimidating size. Peter groaned,
his hand instinctively moving to tangle in her white hair, not forcing her down but simply
establishing a connection as she serviced him with surprising submission.
"All night?" Peter questioned breathlessly, his eyes darting to the clock mounted on the wall.
"It's only nine o'clock." His voice hitched as Storm took him particularly deep, the head of his
cock nudging the back of her throat as she moaned around him, sending vibrations through his
entire length.
With obvious reluctance, Storm released him from the warm prison of her mouth, though her
hand continued to stroke his now fully erect shaft. Her lips were slick and swollen from her
efforts, her eyes hooded with desire as she looked up at him. "The night is young, Spider," she
purred, her tongue darting out to collect a bead of precum from his tip, "and I want to make
absolutely certain you leave me with plenty of mutant babies in my belly by tomorrow." Her
words were crude but spoken with such elegant confidence that they seemed almost regal. "I'm
certain Emma would not begrudge me this gift, especially after keeping you selfishly to herself
for so long."
Peter nodded in wordless agreement, his head falling back against the pillows with a groan as
Storm once again swallowed his cock, taking him even deeper than before. Her throat relaxed
around his considerable girth, years of control over her own body allowing her to suppress her
gag reflex as she worshipped his manhood with single-minded determination. Outside, the rain
continued its gentle patter against the windows, a soothing counterpoint to the wet, obscene
sounds filling the bedroom as the weather goddess devoted herself to preparing the Spider for
another round of breeding.
.............................
Meanwhile, on the island nation of Krakoa, Emma Frost reclined on her plush white couch, one
delicate hand resting on her visibly swollen belly while the other held an iPad displaying the
explicit scene unfolding in their New York penthouse. The five identical blonde telepaths known
as the Stepford Cuckoos clustered around her, their eyes wide and cheeks flushed as they
watched Storm—their dignified, regal Storm—taking Peter's massive cock with abandon. The
sound of Storm's hoarse screams filled Emma's private chambers, the weather goddess begging
to be bred like a common whore. "My, my," Emma purred, her ice-blue lips curving into a
satisfied smile. "Our Spider certainly knows how to reduce even the mighty Storm to a quivering
mess. I trained him well, didn't I, girls?"
"It's not fair," Phoebe pouted, her blue eyes never leaving the screen as Peter flipped Storm into
the full nelson position. "We called dibs on him months ago. We told you we wanted to share
him." The other Cuckoos nodded in unison, a synchronized movement that highlighted their
hive-mind connection. "But then the Quiet Council discovered the fertility crisis," Celeste added
bitterly, "and suddenly every powerful mutant woman will want her womb filled with his
superior sperm." Mindee leaned closer to the screen, her lips parting slightly as the camera
captured Storm's face contorted in ecstasy. "We would have pleased him better than the
weather witch. Five of us, five times the pleasure."
"Sweet Bright Lady," Esme gasped as the camera angle shifted, providing a clear view of Peter's
enormous manhood pistoning in and out of Storm's soaking entrance. "Look at the size of him!
That's... that's impossible!" Sophie's eyes widened in disbelief. "No wonder you kept him hidden
away on Earth all those years," she whispered to Emma. "If the Quiet Council had known what
he was packing, they'd have put him in the breeding pits immediately." The Cuckoos watched in
fascinated horror and arousal as Storm's stomach bulged slightly with each deep thrust, her
usual composure completely shattered as lightning flashed outside Peter's windows. "He's
reshaping her," Phoebe observed clinically, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her arousal.
"Her mutant pussy will never be the same after tonight."
Emma chuckled, her laughter like the tinkling of crystal as she watched her protégé perform.
"Peter has always been exceptional," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "So innocent when I
first took him to my bed, yet so eager to learn." Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with mischief and
memory. "It took me weeks to train my throat to accommodate his full length, yet look at our
Storm—taking him like she was born for it." On the screen, Storm began to scream as Peter
pumped his seed deep inside her, the camera capturing the moment of their shared climax with
perfect clarity. "Good boy," Emma murmured, as if Peter could hear her encouragement across
the distance. "Fill her womb just as you filled mine. Show these mutants what a real man can
do."
As Storm's screams of pleasure echoed through the speakers once more, Emma's hand moved
in slow circles over her distended belly, feeling the twins shift restlessly within her womb. Her
thoughts drifted to the other women on the Quiet Council—particularly Jean. How would the
mighty Phoenix look, pinned beneath Peter's powerful body? Would her red hair fan out across
the pillows as she begged for his seed? Would her telepathic powers shatter under the
onslaught of pleasure, broadcasting her ecstasy to every mind on Krakoa? The World? Emma
licked her full blue painted lips at the thought, a delicious anticipation building within her. "Rest
well, my darlings," she whispered to her unborn children as she felt them settle. "Soon you'll
have many more siblings to play with. Spider-Man's breeding program has only just begun, and I
cannot wait to see who falls to his web next."
...........................
OMAKE
Paul had been walking for days since Venom and Deadpool had placed him under the trash
heap. His designer jeans—once worth three hundred dollars—were now torn beyond
recognition, and the stench of sewage clung to him like a second skin. Even the rats scurried
away as he trudged through the city outskirts. "Keep it together, Paul," he muttered to himself,
trying to ignore the flies that had made a home around him. "Just get back to Mary Jane." His
phone was dead, his wallet gone, and his dignity somewhere back under that pile of garbage.
"Where the fuck is Spider-Man when you need him? Was all this Peter's doing?" The thought
made his blood boil even as his stomach growled with hunger.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a massive black figure landed on the pavement before him with a
sickening crack of concrete. Paul froze as Venom straightened up, towering over him like a
nightmare given form. "What do you want n—" Paul's question died in his throat as Venom
began to... twerk? Oh No! It was twerking again! The alien symbiote's massive form shook and
gyrated, its posterior bouncing with disturbing rhythm while its long tongue lolled from its
grinning maw. "What the actual f—"
In horror, Paul tried to run back the way he came, only to skid to a halt as another Venom—this
one bright orange—landed behind him and immediately launched into the same grotesque
dance move. The orange symbiote's twerking was somehow even more aggressive, its hips
moving at speeds that defied physics. "This isn't happening," Paul whispered, backing away
sideways.
He turned left only to face a pristine white Venom, its pearl-colored form gleaming in the
streetlight as it too began twerking with surprising grace for something so monstrous.
Desperately, Paul spun right, but there waited a green Venom, moss-colored and hulking,
already mid-twerk with what appeared to be a symbiote version of jazz hands. "What is this?"
Paul cried out, spinning in a circle of twerking alien monsters. "What do you want from me?"
The first black Venom paused its disturbing dance just long enough to speak, its voice like gravel
in a blender. "Peter is not to be disturbed by trash characters and their fetish for man buns and
the looks of kid predators," it growled, somehow making the ridiculous statement sound like a
death sentence. The symbiote's massive head leaned in close enough that Paul could smell its
breath, like roadkill left in the sun. "Get him, boys!"
Paul could only scream in horror as all four Venoms descended upon him, a rainbow of
symbiotic fury and inexplicable twerking. The beating was swift and thorough, each Venom
taking turns to slap, punch, and occasionally continue dancing while striking him. His last
conscious thought was the sensation of flying—literally flying—through the air as the Venoms
collectively hurled him kilometers away, his body describing a perfect arc before landing with a
squelchy thud right back in the exact same trash heap where his journey had begun. A banana
peel landed delicately on his forehead as the world went mercifully black.