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 mutante 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.