Alone on a crowded island

Kurt Wagner stood at the edge of the Krakoan shore, massive, hulking, and broken.

Days of **** feedings — gallons of rich mother’s milk and worse — had swollen him into a towering, heavily-muscled prisoner in his own body. His cock throbbed helplessly against his belly, heavy and aching, while invisible threads of his mother’s will kept him rooted in place. He could not teleport. He could not run. He could barely even clench his fists unless she allowed it.

And still, he fought.

“There you are, sugar,” a honeyed Southern voice purred behind him. “Still starin’ out at the ocean like a sad little puppy?”

“Naughty, naughty,” Jean’s voice joined in, playful and cruel. “Our Goddess doesn’t like it when her favourite pet presses his face against the fence.”

“Good thing she sent us to… entertain you,” Storm finished with a dark chuckle.

The three women circled him like sharks. Jean trailed clawed fingers down his chest, tracing the deep grooves of muscle. Rogue pressed against his back, her breasts squishing warmly into him as her hands roamed lower. Storm sprouted elegant wings reminiscent of her old cape and lifted herself until her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her ankles behind him. Her fangs grazed his neck as she ground slowly against his trapped cock.

“Look at you,” Jean cooed, wrapping her fingers around his massive, throbbing erection. She gave it a slow, firm stroke, smiling as Kurt’s breath hitched. “So big… so hard… and all of it belongs to Mommy.”

Rogue nibbled his pointed ear, one hand squeezing his heavy balls while the other stroked his shaft alongside Jean’s. “Poor little Kurt. Still tryin’ to fight? Still think you’re better than us?” She laughed softly as he shuddered. “You belong to her. Just like we do.”

Storm kissed his neck, then bit down hard enough to draw a bead of blue blood. “Submit, Nightcrawler,” she whispered, her voice like rolling thunder. “Those tiny thoughts of rebellion are cute… but there are so many better things you could have on your mind.”

“Namely us,” Rogue husked. “Just imagine it, darlin’. Me, Jean, and ‘Ro swollen round and heavy with your brats. Little blue polecats bamfing all over the island, spreading Mommy’s gift even further…”

We are ALL Mystique, Kurt.

The words slammed into his mind like a chorus of velvet thunder, thousands of voices speaking as one through the three women.

And you can be too. All you have to do… is let go.

They used him for hours.

They rode him mercilessly, one after another and sometimes two at once. They smothered his face between heavy leaking breasts, forcing thick streams of milk down his throat until his belly bulged. They teased his cock with tails and tongues, bringing him to the edge again and again, only to deny him until he was sobbing with need. When they finally allowed him release, they laughed — bright, cruel, mocking laughter — as he roared and pumped load after load into their eager bodies.

Even as he came, Kurt’s mind screamed in defiance.

Mother… I will never—