What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine

8 hours later…

The Krakoa portal spat both women out at the edge of the island’s city just before dawn, stumbling through and leaning on each other for balance. Both women laughed as they began to walk down the overgrown path. Where the two lovers waddled side by side, laughing at the night’s events and what had led to their current states as they returned home.

“Who would have thought that there were so many easy men in late-night bars?”

“They make it all too easy, Irene.” Chuckled Mystique as she stopped to rest against a wall and rub circles around her swollen middle. “I feel like the fox that emptied the henhouse.”

Raven’s belly was a taut, glossy pale sphere that swayed heavily as she cradled it in both arms, a combination of her ravenous appetites, both for food and physical pleasure. She and Irene had ordered enough food between them for a family of eight. Irene’s was only slightly smaller; the skin stretched so tight that the faint outlines of kicking limbs were visible beneath it. Both women were flushed, sweat-slick, and grinning as they had already sated whatever appetites they had that night and then some.

“I think you might have broken that poor lad’s arm.” Irene grinned, remembering the passion Raven had when she dragged some slab of a man with her into the backrooms of the club.

“He knew what he was getting into. Not that he complained one bit when the deed was done.”

“I think he was in shock love…”

Both of them laughed at that as they waddled back to the front door of their home and made their way inside. Inside the house, the newest litter was already awake and hungry. Seven pairs of yellow eyes turned toward their mothers the instant the door opened. Raven laughed low, voice thick with milk and lust. Pressing her back to the wall as she let her disguise slip, her skin turning deep blue and he hair a fiery red. Seeing the hungry gazes of her children, Raven fluttered her eyes and moved away from the wall with a hand to her back.

“Later, little ones. Mama has to birth your siblings first.”

They barely made it to the wide sectional before the contractions hit in perfect, cruel sync. Raven dropped to her knees with a guttural moan; Irene followed, silk dress evaporating as her own belly clenched. Her skin turned blue as she fell to all fours with a gasp. Practically laughing as she arched her back, her laughter turned to groans of effort as contractions ripped through her, too. The births were faster now, almost violent—bodies sliding free in wet, ecstatic surges while the two women orgasmed through every push. Raven gripped the rug beneath her with such intensity that she ripped it clean from the wooden flooring underneath, crying out loud with a deep, throaty moan of effort as the first of her litter pushed out to be born.

A boy.

One who cried out for air as he rolled onto the carpet between her outstretched legs. She delivered three more perfect blue boys as their mother panted and laughed with exhaustion. Irene managed three girls; the woman collapsed face down on the floor, breathing hard and practically drooling from the overstimulation. Umbilical cords were bitten through with sharp teeth. Both women ignored the afterbirths as they regained their strength.

Within minutes, both women’s wombs had already tightened back to firm, athletic flatness, leaving not a sign of their excesses of the night save for a more robust figure than the one they left with that night. Raven rolled onto her side, chest heaving, and reached out to feed her newborns. Her eyes locked on Irene, who managed to gather up her own triplets and bring them to her chest as she got to her feet. Her recovery was astounding, as was hers.

Propping her head in the palm of her hand while two of her quadruplets nursed from her breasts, Raven found herself licking her lips, lusting after Irene’s changed body as the nude, blue-skinned woman opened the refrigerator and pulled a bottle of water from within, downing it almost instantly and reaching for another. She looked good with her skin and hair colour.

A small part of her felt envious. Simply ingesting some of her blood-spiked milk was enough to give Destiny her powers, all of them. It made her wonder what it would be like if she had Irene’s abilities. Closing her eyes while she nursed, she imagined she could make out what was happening around her and how time would unfold—seeing hours into the future, where her children would make a wonderful mess of their home after they got their fill of breakfast. The eventual meeting Irene would have to go to with the Quiet Council. And the way Shaw was planning something made her purse her lips in annoyance.

“Raven—!”

Opening her yellow eyes, Mystique looked up to see Irene paused mid-action in front of the refrigerator like a statue, staring forward motionless while still cradling her triplets in her arms.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I…” Blinking her eyes, but not moving a muscle, Destiny looked around and focused her attention on Mystique. “I can’t move, I can’t see… My powers are gone.”

Sitting up and ignoring the hungry protests of her children in her arms, Raven found that her mind was still pondering future events, all the way towards what looked like a coup d'etat plot led by Shaw with the aid of Orchis, when Raven exhaled. Almost like she was relaxing a muscle when the visions ended, and Irene caught herself against the fridge and regained motor control. Looking around, confused until she turned her attention back to Mystique.

“What the bloody hell was that?!”

Getting to her feet with her children complaining on the floor, Mystique crossed her arms and tapped a finger at her lip in thought. Concentrating, she focused on Irene again, and the woman gasped as she was frozen in place again, then released just as quickly. Tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, Mystique tried to see ahead into the future. She could see Irene later go to the washroom, explore different guises and appearances in the mirror, then head out the door for her meeting.

“Raven?” Destiny called out. “My powers are gone again.”

It all made perfect sense to her now. She could feel the invisible threads that now connected her to Irene—the blood-tainted milk did not just give the woman her powers. It made her wife an extension of her nervous system. And in that extension, make her a part of Mystique as well. With a lazy smirk, she approached her wife. Irene’s shapeshifting vanished mid-breath. Her body locked into its current blue-skinned, scarlet-haired form, unable to ripple or change. She gasped, eyes wide, suddenly ordinary in every way except the serum-enhanced curves when she was pulled into an embrace with Irene’s triplets cradled between them.

“Now THIS is an interesting development,” Mystique purred, voice velvet and steel. She released the link, and Irene’s powers flooded back. “Do you know what this means, love?”

“I have an idea.” The woman smiled with an eyebrow raised.

“It means what’s mine is yours… and what’s yours is mine.”

Irene shivered hard, pupils blown, and leaned forward to kiss her wife with something between worship and hunger.