In one of Parker-Frost Industries' many large and expensively furnished conference buildings,
Emma sat at the head of a sprawling glass table, dressed in an elegantly expensive white and
blue casual dress that perfectly accentuated her growing baby bump. The material was soft
against her skin, custom-tailored to accommodate her pregnancy while maintaining her
signature impeccable style. Her platinum blonde hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders
as she meticulously examined the holographic displays floating above the table's surface, each
showing the profile of a potential candidate.
Sitting beside her were the Stepford Cuckoos, five identical blonde telepaths dressed in
matching white ensembles that mimicked Emma's style in a more youthful fashion. Their fingers
danced across digital interfaces as they sorted through files and pictures showcasing males with
sculpted physiques and females with bodies designed to make anyone drool. The conference
room's floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Manhattan, the afternoon sun
casting a golden glow across the luxurious space.
"Phoebe, be a dear and eliminate anyone with suspicious gaps in their employment history,"
Emma instructed, swiping away a profile with a flick of her manicured finger. "Celeste, flag the
ones with genuine modeling experience. Mindee, focus on those with diplomatic training or
languages. We need beauty and brains for this event." The Cuckoos nodded in unison, their
telepathic hive mind allowing them to process information at an extraordinary rate.
The task before them was monumental—selecting entertainment staff for the three-day
celebration aboard the Aurora Invicta, Parker-Frost Industries' crown jewel of luxury cruise
liners. Both male and female interviewees were expected to be the pinnacle of sensuality and
handsomeness, contracted to provide companionship and potentially more intimate services to
the important guests attending Peter's bachelor celebration. Emma knew her future husband
would require significant convincing to partake in such indulgences, though she smirked
knowingly—Peter would certainly cave if she joined him in the activities.
"We've processed approximately two thousand applications so far," Celeste reported, her voice
perfectly modulated. "Based on our preliminary screening, only thirty-eight percent meet all the
qualification thresholds." The holographic displays refreshed, showing a curated selection of
faces and bodies that represented the cream of the global beauty crop—from former runway
models to adult film stars, high-end escorts to fitness influencers with bodies that defied human
limitations.
Emma nodded appreciatively at a particularly stunning male specimen on the screen. "And what
of our agreement, girls? I trust you're finding my... payment satisfactory?" She raised an
eyebrow, unable to suppress a mischievous smile. The Cuckoos had agreed to help with the
massive undertaking of sorting through eight thousand applications, but their price had been
specific and non-negotiable: intimate naked photographs of Peter Parker, which Emma had
amusedly provided.
"Oh, quite satisfactory," Phoebe responded with a smile that wasn't entirely innocent. The five
identical blondes shared a look that made even Emma—no stranger to sexual thoughts—
shudder slightly.
"We particularly appreciated the shower sequence," Mindee added, her eyes gleaming. "The
way the water cascaded down his—"
"That's quite enough," Emma interrupted, feeling a rare moment of protectiveness over Peter's
privacy, despite having been the one to share the images. "I genuinely don't want to know what
five telepathic young women do with those pictures in your collective consciousness." She
mentally noted to warn Peter about potentially receiving strange looks from the Cuckoos at
their next encounter.
Celeste's eyes widened with mock innocence. "But Mother Emma, surely you understand. It's
purely scientific curiosity about the man capable of impregnating multiple omega-level mutants
when others cannot." Her sisters nodded in perfect synchronicity, their expressions a study in
feigned professionalism.
"Scientific curiosity that requires images of him bending over to pick up a soap bar? I think not,"
Emma replied dryly. "Now, back to the task at hand. How many have we eliminated based on
age verification issues?" She tapped on another profile, examining the detailed background
check results that appeared.
The Cuckoos had already efficiently sorted through over two thousand applications of male and
female candidates from around the world, though there were still six thousand to process. They
systematically removed all who looked suspicious or who had misrepresented their age on their
resumes. Emma had been adamant about the age requirement—twenty-five and above for all
entertainment staff—old enough to fully understand the implications of the role yet still in their
physical prime.
"Approximately three hundred and seventy-two applicants have been disqualified for age
misrepresentation," Esme reported clinically. "Several attempted to use falsified identification or
digitally altered photographs. Quite amateur attempts, really." She dismissed several profiles
with a casual gesture, sending them to the rejection pile.
"Excellent. I want no young souls looking for a quick buck and shattered dreams aboard the
Aurora Invicta," Emma stated firmly. "This is to be a celebration of Peter's accomplishments and
our future together, not an exploitation festival." Despite her reputation for moral flexibility,
Emma had drawn a clear line in this matter. The role these entertainment staff would play came
with clear expectations and extraordinary compensation, but she wanted mature professionals
who knew exactly what they were signing up for.
The age restriction had caused considerable backlash among younger entertainers. Marvelgram
models, OnlyFans creators, and aspiring escorts in their early twenties and teens had taken to
social media in outrage upon learning they were instantly locked out from the massive payday.
No less than ten million dollars per day, plus extravagant gifts Emma had personally selected—
jewelry from Cartier, watches from Patek Philippe, and custom clothing from the world's most
exclusive designers. Those chosen would receive their full compensation regardless of whether
they provided intimate services to any guests, and when the payment details leaked, the
internet exploded with commentary.
"Social media eruption in progress," Phoebe noted with amusement, projecting a holographic
display of various platform feeds. "The hashtag #TooYoungForInvicta is trending worldwide.
There are approximately twelve thousand posts in the last hour alone." The screen filled with
complaints from beautiful young people bemoaning their date of birth, many offering to provide
falsified documentation if it meant a chance at the position.
Emma laughed softly. "Let them rage. When they reach twenty-five, they'll understand the
wisdom in my decision." She swiped through more profiles, pausing occasionally to examine
particularly impressive candidates. "The suite accommodations alone would be worth the age
requirement. I've arranged for each selected entertainer to enjoy an Executive Stellar Suite
when not... otherwise occupied." These were accommodations that typically cost upwards of
fifty thousand dollars per night, featuring private infinity pools, AI-controlled environments, and
panoramic ocean views.
"Speaking of preferences," Celeste interjected, "we've been analyzing Peter's potential...
tastes." All five Cuckoos leaned forward slightly, their interest clearly piqued. "Based on his past
relationships and physiological responses, we believe he has a particular appreciation for
redheads and women with strong personalities." Their collective gaze fixed on Emma knowingly.
Emma's lips curved into a smirk. "A fact I'm well aware of, thank you. Though I've certainly
broken his pattern, haven't I?" She ran a hand lovingly over her pregnant belly. "Still, perhaps
we should include a higher percentage of redheads in the final selection. For... scientific
comparison." The teasing lilt in her voice made it clear she was quite confident in her position in
Peter's heart.
"What about his preferences regarding male companions?" Mindee asked, pulling up several
profiles of extraordinarily handsome men. "Our analysis suggests he has a preference for
authority figures and intellectuals when it comes to male friendships, though we have
insufficient data to determine if that extends to potential intimate partners."
Emma considered this, tapping a manicured finger against her chin. "Peter is more flexible than
most realize, in many aspects of life. However, I doubt he'll partake. He isn't gay, i should know."
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Though I do enjoy encouraging him to expand his horizons i
doubt he will be interested. Keep the males for the female guests."
As Emma and the Cuckoos continued their meticulous screening process, time slipped away
unnoticed. The conference room had transformed into a war room of beauty assessment, with
holographic profiles floating in three-dimensional space around them. They had begun their
task at eight in the morning, and now the digital clock on the wall silently flipped to twelvethirty. For four and a half hours, they had been immersed in an endless parade of physical
perfection.
"I must say," Emma commented, flicking through a particularly impressive portfolio, "the human
form truly is a magnificent thing when properly maintained." She rotated a 3D model of a
Japanese woman with flawless porcelain skin and curves that defied gravity. "This one has quite
the impressive resume. Former Miss Universe Japan finalist, speaks five languages, and has a
master's degree in international relations."
Phoebe nodded appreciatively. "She certainly knows how to work a camera. The video
demonstration of her... flexibility... is particularly noteworthy." With a gesture, she expanded a
clip showing the woman performing a perfect split while maintaining unwavering eye contact
with the camera, her expression promising far more than mere acrobatics.
The displays around them showcased an international catalog of beauty: Asian bombshells with
delicate features and surprising strength, blonde Nordic goddesses with ice-blue eyes and
statuesque proportions, redheads with curves that seemed to extend for days, brunettes who
looked as if they were created specifically for sin, and Black women with bodies so perfect they
bordered on architectural marvels – impressively fat, curvaceous asses and breasts that
somehow defied both gravity and proportion while remaining elegantly balanced.
"I believe Peter would appreciate this candidate," Mindee observed, highlighting a stunning
redhead whose profile bore a subtle resemblance to Mary Jane Watson—though Emma noticed
and deliberately ignored this detail. "Her background in biochemistry might give them
something to discuss between... other activities."
Emma arched an eyebrow. "I doubt Peter will be engaging in scientific discourse during his
bachelor celebration, dear. But flag her nonetheless." She couldn't help but smirk at the thought
of Peter's likely embarrassment when presented with such an array of beauty explicitly selected
for his pleasure. His adorable discomfort would only make his eventual surrender more
satisfying—especially with her participation to ease his conscience.
"Esme, pull up candidate thirty-four's demonstration video," Emma directed. "We need to
ensure our finalists aren't merely photogenic but actually skilled in the arts we're hiring them
for." The screen filled with expertly shot footage of a former Olympic gymnast demonstrating
precisely why flexibility was indeed a marketable post-athletic career skill. Emma watched with
clinical detachment, occasionally nodding in approval at particularly impressive techniques.
"Mother Emma, is it truly necessary to review all of these explicit materials?" Celeste asked with
a hint of amusement. "Or are you perhaps enjoying this aspect of your duties more than you're
letting on?"
Emma's lips quirked upward. "Due diligence, darling. Peter deserves only the best, and I refuse
to hire someone who merely photographs well but lacks... technical proficiency." Her eyes never
left the screen as she spoke. "Besides, one must maintain certain standards. The Aurora Invicta
represents the pinnacle of Parker-Frost luxury. Everything aboard must be exceptional—
including the entertainment."
By one o'clock, they had worked their way through all but the final hundred applications.
Emma's desk was now scattered with expensive takeout containers from Nobu—sushi, Wagyu
beef, and other delicacies delivered directly from the five-star restaurant that now counted
Parker-Frost Industries among its major investors.
"I must say," Emma remarked, delicately picking up a piece of otoro with her chopsticks, "this
process has been far more entertaining than I anticipated. Though I'm beginning to wonder if
we're being too selective. We've only approved sixty-three candidates thus far."
"Quality over quantity, Mother Emma," the Cuckoos replied in perfect unison, their hive mind
momentarily in complete synchronicity. The effect was still unsettling, even to Emma who had
grown accustomed to their peculiarities.
Esme suddenly straightened in her chair, her eyes widening as she opened a particularly large
file. The data stream was enormous compared to the other applications—background
information, skill sets, languages, and a staggering array of high-resolution photographs and
videos.
"Wait," she said, her voice rising with genuine surprise—an emotion rarely displayed by any of
the Cuckoos. "Isn't this Natasha Romanoff?"
Emma nearly choked on her sashimi, setting down her chopsticks and wiping her mouth with
deliberate slowness as she processed this information. "Excuse me?" she asked, her voice
perfectly controlled despite her shock.
"Black Widow," Esme clarified unnecessarily, projecting the application onto the main display
for all to see. "Unless I'm mistaken, which I'm not, this is definitely SHIELD's premier assassin
and Avenger."
Emma leaned forward, taking control of the holographic display with a gesture and expanding
the file. There, unmistakably, was Natasha Romanoff—her iconic features impossible to
misidentify despite the variety of looks she presented across dozens of photographs. The
images started professionally enough: Natasha in evening wear, in business attire, in casual
clothing—all expertly shot to highlight her considerable beauty.
But as Emma swiped through, the photographs became progressively more revealing. Natasha
in a barely-there bikini on what appeared to be a private beach, her athletic body glistening
with oil. Natasha in lingerie that cost more than most people's monthly rent. Natasha in a
modified, highly sexualized version of her SHIELD tactical suit, unzipped to reveal expanses of
creamy skin.
And then there were the fully nude shots—artistic at first, then increasingly explicit. Natasha in
various poses that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, showcasing a body honed to
perfection through decades of training and enhanced by whatever serum the Red Room had
used to preserve her youth.
"My, my," Emma murmured, unable to hide her appreciation for both Natasha's physical form
and her audacity. "The Black Widow certainly knows how to make an impression."
The Cuckoos had abandoned all pretense of disinterest, gathering behind Emma to view the
display. "For a woman in her mid-thirties, she's kept herself in remarkable condition," Phoebe
observed with clinical detachment belied by her widened eyes.
Emma's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Mid-thirties on paper only, darling. Our Ms.
Romanoff is significantly older than she appears, courtesy of her time in the Red Room. Their
enhancement program grants impressive longevity and vitality." She zoomed in on a particularly
provocative image of Natasha in a pose that would have made a contortionist envious. "Though
I must admit, even knowing that, her... flexibility... is impressive."
"There's video content as well," Mindee noted, highlighting a folder containing multiple files.
"Shall we review it?"
Emma hesitated, her mind working rapidly. Natasha Romanoff wouldn't submit an application
like this without an agenda—especially after their recent meeting regarding SHIELD's concerns
about Peter's children. This was a calculated move, which meant Nick Fury was likely involved.
"Not yet," Emma decided. "First, let's see if our ambitious applicant is actually here in person."
With practiced ease, she accessed the security feeds from the waiting rooms where candidates
were gathered for potential interviews. There were three large reception areas, each holding
hundreds of hopefuls who had made it past the initial screening process.
Emma cycled through the cameras methodically until she found what she was looking for in the
third waiting area. There, sitting calmly in a corner with perfect posture, was Natasha Romanoff.
She wore a simple but elegant black dress that managed to be simultaneously modest and
captivating. Her hair, currently dyed a dark honey blonde, was styled in sophisticated waves. To
anyone else, she might have appeared to be just another beautiful Russian model-turnedescort. But Emma knew better.
"There she is," Emma pointed to the screen. "Candidate number 6969. Really, Natasha? Even
your code number is lacking in subtlety."
The Cuckoos exchanged glances before Celeste spoke. "Shall we alert security to remove her?
This is clearly some sort of infiltration attempt."
Emma considered this for a moment, absently stroking her pregnant belly as she thought. "No,"
she finally decided. "If we reject her, she'll simply find another way onto the Aurora Invicta.
Natasha Romanoff isn't known for accepting 'no' as an answer, and I'd rather keep my enemies
where I can see them." Her lips curved into a predatory smile. "Besides, I'm genuinely curious to
discover why SHIELD's premier assassin is suddenly so eager for a chance to sleep with my
fiancé."
"You think that's what she wants?" Esme asked, sounding skeptical. "To seduce Peter?"
"Of course that's what she wants," Emma replied, her tone suggesting the question was absurd.
"The question is why. SHIELD is already aware of everything regarding the mutant fertility crisis.
They know about Storm and Jean. There must be something more." She tapped her fingernails
against the glass table thoughtfully. "Something Fury didn't mention during our last
conversation."
"Perhaps she simply finds Peter attractive," Phoebe suggested with a hint of mischief. "We
certainly do, based on those shower photographs."
Emma shot her a withering look. "Let's not be naive, girls. In our world, nothing is ever that
simple, especially when it involves Nick Fury and his favorite spider." She closed Natasha's
application file with a gesture and turned back to the Cuckoos. "Mark her application for
approval. Schedule her interview for the final slot today. I want to speak with her personally."
"As you wish," the Cuckoos responded, efficiently updating the system.
Emma returned her attention to Natasha's image on the security feed. The super-spy appeared
perfectly at ease, chatting amiably with a male model beside her while maintaining complete
awareness of her surroundings. Emma had to admire her professionalism, if nothing else.
"You know," Emma mused, almost to herself, "part of me is tempted to simply approve her
application without question. Can you imagine Peter's face when he discovers the Black Widow
is among his bachelor party entertainment options?" She laughed softly. "The poor dear would
probably short-circuit entirely."
"Would you actually allow her to be with Peter?" Mindee asked, genuinely curious. "Given
your... territorial nature regarding him?"
Emma's expression hardened momentarily before melting into something more calculated. "I've
already agreed to share him with Storm and Jean for the greater good of mutantkind. What's
one more powerful woman in the mix?" She absently traced the diamond engagement ring on
her finger. "Besides, Peter remains mine regardless of who else may temporarily enjoy his
company. The question is whether Natasha's motives align with our interests."
Emma pushed aside her half-eaten sushi roll and closed the holographic display with a decisive
gesture. "I believe we've seen enough applications to begin the interview process," she
declared, standing with the elegant grace that belied her advanced pregnancy. "No sense in
prolonging the suspense for our eager candidates."
The Cuckoos exchanged glances, their telepathic communication invisible to all but Emma, who
ignored the flurry of thoughts passing between them.
"But we've only processed seventy percent of the applications," Celeste pointed out, her tone
carefully neutral. "There might be other candidates of... special interest... in the remaining files."
Emma's smile was razor-sharp. "I'm quite certain we've found the most interesting candidate
already. The rest can wait." She smoothed her white dress over her prominent baby bump and
walked to the intercom system on the wall. With perfectly manicured nails, she pressed the
button that would broadcast her voice to all three waiting areas simultaneously.
"Good afternoon, prospective entertainers," Emma's voice purred through the speakers,
carrying with it the subtle influence of her natural charisma enhanced by a touch of telepathic
suggestion. "This is Emma Frost, CEO of Parker-Frost Industries. I'm pleased to inform you that if
you're currently in one of our waiting areas, you've successfully passed our initial screening
process."
A chorus of excited cheers erupted across all three waiting rooms, the sound filtering back
through the intercom system. Emma waited for the noise to subside before continuing.
"The personal interview phase will begin immediately. Candidates will be selected at random, so
please remain alert. Those who impress during their interviews will receive formal offers before
leaving today." She paused for effect. "I expect nothing less than excellence from each of you.
Parker-Frost Industries represents the pinnacle of luxury and sophistication. Remember that
when you step into this room."
Emma released the intercom button and turned to the Cuckoos with a sly smile. "Let's start with
candidate 6969, shall we? I find myself suddenly impatient to hear what the Black Widow has to
say for herself."
Mindee tapped on her tablet, sending the instruction to the security team. On the security feed,
they watched as two imposing guards in sleek black suits approached Natasha's corner. The
redhead rose gracefully, accepting congratulations and whistles from nearby candidates. A
particularly muscular male model gave her a high-five while a statuesque blonde blew her a
kiss. Natasha played the part of excited applicant perfectly, her genuine smile revealing nothing
of her true purpose.
"She's quite good at this," Phoebe observed, watching Natasha's performance. "If we didn't
know better, I'd swear she was genuinely here for the job."
"That's precisely what makes her dangerous," Emma replied, settling back into her chair at the
head of the table. "The best lies contain elements of truth. I suspect Ms. Romanoff wouldn't
mind the opportunity to seduce Peter, regardless of her mission objectives."
The Cuckoos arranged themselves in a perfect formation behind Emma's chair, five identical
blonde guardians presenting a united front. The conference room door slid open silently,
revealing Natasha Romanoff flanked by two security guards whose bulging muscles suggested
enhancement beyond normal human capabilities.
"Candidate 6969," one of them announced formally before stepping back.
Natasha entered with measured confidence, her honey-blonde waves bouncing gently against
her shoulders. The simple black dress she wore was a masterpiece of understated elegance—
modest in cut yet clinging to her athletic curves in a way that drew the eye precisely where she
intended. Her makeup was subtle but flawless, highlighting her striking features without
appearing overdone.
"Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Frost," Natasha said, her voice carrying just the right note of
deference mixed with self-assurance. Her eyes flicked briefly to Emma's pregnant belly before
returning to meet Emma's gaze directly.
Once the door closed behind her, Emma let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, let's dispense with
the charade, shall we? What exactly does Nick Fury want me to do with you, Natasha? Have you
perform a striptease right here while my girls throw dollar bills at you? Perhaps a little twerking
demonstration to prove your... qualifications?" Emma's tone was acidic, her blue eyes cold
despite her smirk.
To Emma's mild surprise, the Cuckoos perked up at the suggestion, exchanging glances that
suggested they wouldn't mind such a display. Esme even went so far as to open her purse,
fingers brushing against her wallet with genuine interest.
Natasha's expression never faltered. Instead, a small, amused smile played across her lips. "If
that's what it takes to secure the position, I'm happy to oblige." She reached for the thin strap
of her dress, fingers poised to slide it down her shoulder. "I've been told my dancing skills are
quite... memorable."
For a fraction of a second, Emma was tempted to call the spy's bluff, but she waved her hand
dismissively instead. "As entertaining as that might be, I'd rather not waste time on
performances when we both know you have no intention of actually serving as entertainment
on the Aurora Invicta." She rubbed her temples, feigning annoyance. "Let's cut to the chase.
Why are you really here? What possible reason could SHIELD have for wanting their premier
assassin to sleep with my fiancé?"
Natasha dropped the seductive act instantly, her posture shifting subtly into something more
businesslike, though no less graceful. "Has Peter ever mentioned the Web of Life and Destiny to
you?"
The question was clearly not what Emma had expected. She blinked once, then shrugged. "In
passing. Something about fighting alongside other Spider-people to protect it from beings called
the Inheritors." She waved her hand dismissively. "Inter-dimensional nonsense that fortunately
hasn't required my attention. for some time since krakoa was founded."
"It's far more than 'inter-dimensional nonsense,'" Natasha replied, her expression serious. "May
I?" She gestured toward the holographic display controls.
Emma nodded, curious despite herself. The Cuckoos tensed slightly, ready to intervene if
Natasha attempted anything beyond accessing the display.
Natasha's fingers moved expertly across the interface. Instantly, the room darkened as a
complex, three-dimensional web of light appeared in the center of the conference table. It
pulsed with energy, countless threads stretching in all directions, each connecting to glowing
nodes that represented different realities.
"This is the Web of Life and Destiny or at least what we think it looks like," Natasha explained,
her voice taking on a lecturer's cadence. "It's a multiversal construct that connects all realities
where Spider-Totems exist. Think of it as the nervous system of the multiverse, with each strand
connecting to a different reality."
Emma leaned forward, her interest genuinely piqued. "And what does this have to do with
Peter?"
"Everything," Natasha replied simply. "Peter Parker of Earth-616-S, our earth designation—our
Peter—is the primary conduit of the Web. The central node through which all its energies flow."
She manipulated the display, zooming in on a particularly bright intersection of threads. "He
doesn't actively use it or even fully comprehend his connection to it, but Dr. Strange has
confirmed what Fury suspected—Peter is essentially the living heart of the Web."
"Fascinating," Emma murmured, studying the display with newfound interest. "But that still
doesn't explain why SHIELD thinks you need to sleep with him."
Natasha met Emma's gaze steadily. "Because of what your children will be capable of." She
adjusted the display again, highlighting several smaller threads branching from Peter's node,
threads that pulsed with unusual intensity. "The children Peter fathers with omega-level
mutants won't just be beyond omega-level themselves. According to Dr. Strange's analysis, they
will be able to actively tap into the Web of Life and Destiny at will."
"Meaning what, exactly?" Emma asked, though her expression suggested she was beginning to
understand.
"Meaning they'll be able to make changes to reality—not just in our universe, but potentially
across the entire multiverse." Natasha's voice remained calm, but the gravity of her words hung
in the air. "They will have the ability to reshape existence itself, to rewrite the fundamental laws
that govern all realities."
The Cuckoos gasped in unison, their telepathic link flaring with shared shock and excitement.
Emma, however, showed no surprise at all. Instead, a slow, proud smile spread across her face,
her hand moving to caress her pregnant belly where her twins—Peter's children—grew stronger
each day.
"I suspected they would be special," Emma said softly, "but this exceeds even my expectations."
Her eyes gleamed with something that might have been maternal pride, ambition, or perhaps a
combination of both. "My children will be gods."
"Which is precisely why SHIELD is concerned," Natasha countered. "The concentration of this
much power in one genetic line poses unprecedented risks and opportunities. Cosmic entities
are already taking notice. The Watchers, Galactus, even the Living Tribunal—all have begun
observing Earth more closely since these pregnancies began."
Emma's smile never faltered. "And so Fury decided humanity needed its own stake in this new
power dynamic. Hence your application." She laughed softly, the sound tinged with genuine
amusement. "He wants you to bear Peter's children too, providing SHIELD with its own realitywarping assets."
"It's a matter of balance," Natasha replied, not denying Emma's assessment. "Currently, all of
Peter's children are being born to mutants. If Earth is to have any hope of maintaining
equilibrium in the coming decades, humanity needs representation in this new paradigm."
"And you volunteered for this mission?" Emma asked skeptically. "I was under the impression
you couldn't have children. Something about the Red Room's enhancement program."
"That was true," Natasha acknowledged. "Until Strange discovered that Peter's connection to
the Web might override those limitations. There's a significant chance that his... unique
abilities... could heal what the Red Room took from me."
Before Emma could respond, Phoebe stepped forward, her lips pursed in an uncharacteristic
display of emotion. "This isn't fair," she declared, her sisters nodding in agreement behind her.
"You've been keeping such a man all to yourself, Mother Emma."
"Excuse me?" Emma turned to face her pseudo-daughters, one eyebrow arched dangerously
high.
"If Peter's children will be capable of manipulating the multiverse," Celeste continued, "then
you have no right to monopolize him. Think of what our offspring could accomplish!" She
gestured to herself and her identical sisters. "Five perfect telepaths, each bearing children with
the Spider-Totem? The possibilities are infinite."
"The combined telepathic and reality-warping abilities alone would be unprecedented," Mindee
added, her eyes gleaming with ambition barely distinguishable from Emma's own. "They would
be beautiful, intelligent, and essentially omnipotent."
Emma's expression turned amused as she regarded the Cuckoos. "I sincerely doubt Peter would
do anything with you girls, even if all five of you threw yourselves at him completely naked. He
thinks of you as siblings or his own children, no doubt." She ran a hand over her pregnant belly
possessively. "Besides, he has more than enough female attention as it is."
Her confidence wavered slightly as the five identical blondes exchanged a collective smirk, their
blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Then, in perfect synchronicity, they shifted their postures to
something decidedly more provocative.
"Oh, Spider-Daddy," Phoebe purred in a voice dripping with sensuality, her hands trailing down
her body suggestively. "We've been such naughty mutants. Why don't you punish us with your
big, hard cock?"
Before Emma could respond, Celeste joined in, her innocent face transforming into something
far more carnal. "We promise to take every inch like good girls," she breathed, biting her lower
lip.
"Oh, stepbro Peter," Mindee moaned, bending slightly at the waist and pushing her ass out.
"We're all collectively stuck in this washing machine. I hope you don't think dirty thoughts and
fuck us until we beg for more."
Esme and Sophie giggled, adding their own sultry suggestions. "We could all take turns, or you
could have us all at once—"
"That's quite enough!" Emma snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. She grabbed the nearest
object—a half-empty container of spaghetti from their lunch—and hurled it at the Cuckoos with
surprising force for a heavily pregnant woman.
The pasta sailed through the air in a graceful arc, marinara sauce trailing behind it like bloody
raindrops. The Cuckoos expertly dodged the impromptu projectile, moving with the
synchronized grace of dancers who shared a single mind. The container crashed against the
wall, leaving a wide splatter of red sauce and noodles.
"You missed, Mother Emma," Phoebe taunted, her voice lilting with amusement. "Your aim is
getting rusty. Perhaps pregnancy has affected your coordination?"
"It's only a matter of time," Celeste added with a confident smirk. "Peter will eventually have all
of us carrying his babies. Five perfect telepathic wombs, ready to bear the next generation of
reality-warpers."
"After all," Mindee purred, "variety is the spice of life. And we could offer him quite the...
variety pack."
The five identical blondes dissolved into a fit of giggles that somehow managed to be both
innocent and deeply unsettling at the same time. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, looking
as though she was contemplating throwing something considerably more dangerous than pasta.
Instead, she turned back to Natasha, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely
concealed amusement. The spy's lips were curved in a subtle smile, one eyebrow raised as she
observed the domestic drama unfolding before her.
"Children," Emma sighed dramatically. "They grow up so quickly, don't they? One day they're
looking up to you for guidance, the next they're plotting to seduce your fiancé." She waved a
dismissive hand toward the Cuckoos, who were still giggling amongst themselves. "Ignore them.
Back to business. Is the summit still being planned? And would allowing you to carry Peter's
children help calm things down with SHIELD and other agencies?"
Natasha's expression shifted back to professional composure, though her eyes still twinkled
with humor. "It wouldn't hurt to have SHIELD firmly on your side during the talks. There are
numerous nations and private interests that view the combination of Parker genetics and
Krakoan mutant abilities as a potential threat." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice.
"Fury believes having a stake in this new paradigm would align SHIELD's interests with yours,
creating a natural alliance against external pressures."
Emma tapped her manicured nails against the glass table thoughtfully, her blue eyes calculating.
"And what guarantee do I have that SHIELD or the American government won't simply take any
children you might have with Peter and raise them as weapons against Krakoa? Or turn them
into attack dogs against other nations?" Her voice had lost all traces of playfulness. "I won't
trade one threat for another."
The temperature in the conference room seemed to drop several degrees at Emma's words. The
Cuckoos ceased their giggling immediately, their collective attention focused intently on
Natasha's response.
Emma had assumed Natasha possessed no powers beyond her extraordinary skills as an
assassin and spy. But as the question hung in the air, something shifted in the redhead's
demeanor that sent an unexpected chill down Emma's spine—and through the telepathic link
she shared with the Cuckoos.
Natasha's eyes darkened, not with mutant power but with something more primal and
terrifying. Her expression remained calm, yet somehow communicated a promise of violence so
absolute that even Emma—the White Queen, a woman who had faced down world-destroying
threats—felt a momentary flicker of unease.
"Anyone who tried," Natasha said, her voice soft yet carrying perfectly in the silent room,
"would beg for death long before I was done with them." Each word was precisely measured,
delivered with the absolute certainty of someone stating a fundamental law of physics. "And
those who merely heard whispers of what happened to the first who attempted it would never
even dream of coming near me or my babies."
The statement wasn't a threat—it was a simple declaration of fact, delivered with such
conviction that questioning it seemed as foolish as questioning gravity. For a brief moment,
Emma glimpsed the true Black Widow behind the carefully constructed façades—the living
weapon forged in the Red Room, whose capacity for calculated violence exceeded even Emma's
darkest imaginings.
The silence stretched for several seconds, broken only by the subtle sound of five telepathic
young women collectively holding their breath.
Then Emma shrugged, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had formed. She reached for a
digital stamp and pressed it firmly against Natasha's application file, marking it with a glowing
"APPROVED" watermark.
"Well, that's settled then," she said briskly, as if they'd been discussing nothing more
consequential than lunch options.
Natasha blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt shift. "That's it? That easily?"
Emma's lips curved into a wicked smile as she leaned back in her chair, one hand resting
protectively over her pregnant belly. "I really just want to see you get your brains fucked out by
Peter, darling. The political advantages are merely a bonus." Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Besides, Peter needs to properly enjoy his bachelor party. What better way than with a
legendary super-spy whose flexibility is quite literally the stuff of SHIELD legend?"
Natasha's lips curled into a knowing smile as she leaned forward slightly, slipping effortlessly
into flawless Russian. "Ya vysoshu yego chlen tak sil'no, chto kogda on vernyotsya k tebe, u nego
ne ostanetsya ni kapli spermy," she purred, her voice a sensual promise. "I'm going to drain his
cock so thoroughly that when he returns to you, there won't be a drop of cum left."
Emma's eyebrow arched, both impressed and amused by the spy's audacity. "Bold words from
someone who hasn't experienced him yet," she replied in equally perfect Russian, stroking her
pregnant belly pointedly. "I've claimed his best already. These twins are just the beginning of my
dynasty." She switched back to English, her tone businesslike once more. "Your uniform and
contract details will be sent to you. Report to Dock 94 on Thursday at 08:00 hours. Don't be
late—the Aurora Invicta waits for no one, not even SHIELD's favorite spider."
Natasha nodded respectfully before turning toward the door, her walk transforming into a
deliberate, hypnotic sway that drew every eye in the room. The gentle pendulum motion of her
hips was a masterclass in subtle seduction—not overtly sexual yet impossible to ignore. Even
Emma found herself momentarily entranced before shaking her head with grudging respect.
The woman knew exactly what she was doing, wielding her body like the precision weapon it
was.
"Next candidate," Celeste called through the intercom system, her voice betraying a hint of
eagerness as she consulted her tablet. "Number 765, Kasumi Hatano." The door slid open
moments later to reveal an absolutely stunning Japanese-American woman in her mid-twenties.
She entered with perfect posture, her curves threatening the structural integrity of her simple
yet elegant black dress. Her waist was impossibly small in contrast to her generous hips and
truly remarkable breasts that seemed to defy both gravity and proportion.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Frost, honored Cuckoos," Kasumi greeted them with a slight bow, her
voice melodic and cultured with just a hint of a West Coast accent beneath the precisely
enunciated syllables. She straightened, subtly adjusting her stance to showcase her figure to its
best advantage—a movement so practiced it appeared entirely natural while being deliberately
calculated.
"Ms. Hatano," Phoebe began, leaning forward with undisguised interest, "your application
mentions expertise in traditional Japanese tea ceremony as well as... other cultural arts. Could
you elaborate on your specific skill set?" The question was innocent enough, but the gleam in
the Cuckoo's eyes suggested she was already well aware of the answer.
"Of course," Kasumi replied with a serene smile. "Beyond tea ceremony, I am extensively trained
in the traditional arts of shibari, nuru massage, and several disciplines that don't translate well
to English but involve pressure points most Westerners don't even know exist in the human
body." As she spoke, she produced a length of red silk rope from her small clutch purse and,
with a flick of her wrist, demonstrated a complex knotting pattern between her fingers that
somehow managed to be both artistic and suggestive. "Perhaps a brief demonstration would be
more informative than mere words?"
The Cuckoos exchanged excited glances before Mindee nodded enthusiastically. "We believe a
practical assessment would be most appropriate, yes." She gestured to a clear space beside the
conference table. "Please proceed."
Emma rolled her eyes at the Cuckoos' transparent eagerness but made no move to interrupt as
Kasumi began a mesmerizing demonstration. The woman moved with liquid grace, her body
bending in ways that should have been anatomically impossible while she narrated in a soft,
professional tone. "This position allows for maximum pleasure with minimal strain," she
explained, arching backwards until her hands touched the floor behind her feet, her impressive
breasts straining against the fabric of her dress. "And this technique," she continued, flowing
seamlessly into another pose that showcased both flexibility and strength, "guarantees multiple
orgasms within minutes."
While the Cuckoos were thoroughly distracted by Kasumi's increasingly explicit demonstration—
which now involved the strategic removal of just enough clothing to remain technically decent
while leaving very little to the imagination—Emma took the opportunity to review the
remaining applications. She swiped through them rapidly, barely glancing at the parade of
perfect bodies until she reached the final two files. Her finger froze mid-swipe, her eyes
narrowing as she instantly recognized two very familiar faces.
The first showed Mary Jane Watson posed on a pristine beach, wearing what could only
technically be called a bikini—the sheer material left absolutely nothing to the imagination,
clinging to her curves like a second skin while the Caribbean sun highlighted her fiery red hair.
The photographer had captured her signature thousand-watt smile, the one that had graced
countless magazine covers and, Emma knew with absolute certainty, had once made Peter
Parker's heart skip several beats. The second application featured Felicia Hardy in skintight jeans
that showcased her perfect ass as if it had been painted on, paired with a crop top that
struggled valiantly but ultimately failed to contain breasts that rivaled Kasumi's impressive
endowment. Her platinum blonde hair, so light it appeared almost silver, cascaded around her
shoulders in a deliberate tousle that screamed both "I just rolled out of bed" and "I could
destroy your life with a smile."
Emma's first instinct was to delete both applications instantly—to erase any chance of these
women coming anywhere near Peter during his bachelor celebrations. Her finger hovered over
the rejection button as a symphony of jealousy, possessiveness, and outright territorial rage
blossomed in her chest. Then, slowly, her full blue-painted lips curved into a smile so beautiful
and so vicious it might have made Magneto himself take a step back. With deliberate
movements, she pressed "APPROVE" on both applications, adding a special note to have them
scheduled for private interviews—with her personally.
"Girls," Emma called, interrupting Kasumi's demonstration just as the woman had somehow
managed to bend herself into what appeared to be a human pretzel while explaining the
advantages of this position for "deeper penetration and G-spot stimulation." The Cuckoos
turned toward Emma reluctantly, their expressions suggesting they'd been thoroughly enjoying
the educational display. "Ms. Hatano is obviously hired. Send her contract details immediately
and schedule her for the Imperial Star Suite orientation."
As Kasumi straightened herself with impossible grace and began readjusting her clothing,
Emma's attention returned to the two applications she'd just approved. She stroked her fingers
over the images, her smile growing ever more predatory. "And could you be dears and arrange
for candidates 8889 and 8890 to be scheduled for private interviews in my office at Parker
Tower? Tomorrow evening, one after the other. I'd like to... personally assess their suitability."
The Cuckoos peered at the applications Emma had highlighted, their eyes widening in perfect
synchronicity. "Mother Emma," Celeste whispered, genuine surprise in her voice, "those are—"
"I'm well aware of who they are," Emma cut her off smoothly, her tone dripping with honeycoated malice. "And I intend to make absolutely certain they understand exactly what role
they'll be permitted to play in my fiancé's bachelor party." She caressed her pregnant belly
possessively, the enormous diamond on her engagement ring catching the light. "It's time these
two learned that the game has changed, and I'm the one who makes the rules now."