Spreading

Meanwhile, in one of the secure export hubs near the southern coast of Krakoa, the afternoon sun bathed the organic docks in golden light. Towering living spires of coral-like wood pulsed gently with bioluminescent veins, while massive Krakoan transport vessels—sleek, sail-driven organic ships—bobbed at their moorings. The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, the sweet pollen of flowering vines, and the faint metallic scent of processed pharmaceuticals.

Hank McCoy—Beast—stood at the center of it all, his distinctive blue fur gleaming under the sunlight. He moved with scholarly precision, massive hands gesturing authoritatively as he reviewed glowing holographic manifests from a pad in his clawed hand. Workers, both mutant and automated drones grown from Krakoa’s own biomass, moved crates with practiced efficiency under his watchful eye.

“Careful with that batch, my dear colleagues,” he called out, his cultured voice warm and reassuring, carrying across the dock with effortless authority. “These pharmaceuticals represent hope for thousands of baseline humans suffering from neurological conditions. Debilitating health issues and degenerative diseases. We must ensure their purity and potency remain uncompromised. The world is watching us, after all.”

A few mutants nearby nodded with genuine respect. Beast had always been one of the more approachable members of the Quiet Council—brilliant, compassionate, and dedicated to bridging the gap between mutants and humanity. No one noticed the way his yellow eyes lingered just a fraction too long on the sealed containers, or how his nostrils flared subtly as if savouring a particularly delightful scent.

“Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food…” he murmured to himself with a small, scholarly smile. “Paracelsus would be proud.”

Crate after crate was loaded—vials, tablets, injectables—all carefully engineered, all now carrying a hidden gift. Every dose had been subtly laced with Mystique’s essence during the final production stage. A microscopic concentration of her blood, perfectly stable, ready to awaken something glorious in those who consumed it. Hank’s enhanced senses could practically taste it in the air.

The last vessel pulled away from the organic dock, its living sails unfurling like great wings as they caught the wind. It glided gracefully toward the horizon, carrying millions of doses toward major human cities—New York, London, Beijing, Tokyo. Only then did Hank’s friendly demeanour shift.

The scholarly smile melted away like wax under flame. His hunched, bestial stance straightened into a tall, regal stretch. A low, velvet-rough chuckle—far too husky and self-satisfied for the Beast anyone on Krakoa knew—escaped his throat. He tapped a single clawed finger to his temple, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as the psychic link bloomed open.

The latest batch is away, my Queen, he sent telepathically. His mental voice was smooth, dripping with shared satisfaction and unmistakable hunger. Laced exactly as requested. Every vial, every tablet carries your exquisite essence. The medicines will reach the major human cities within the hour.

***

Deep within the sprawling core of their territory, a living, ever-expanding structure that had long since outgrown its humble beginnings, Mystique reclined like a demonic empress upon her throne of silken cushions and writhing bodies.

The chamber was vast, its walls pulsing with soft bioluminescent light. Thick, luxurious fabrics draped every surface. The air hung heavy with the intoxicating scents of milk, sex, sweat, and satisfied power. Mystique’s towering twelve-foot frame dominated the space, her ocean-blue skin gleaming, three graceful sets of horns crowning her head, and a powerful tail lazily coiled around Illyana’s waist. The former Darkchylde purred contentedly against her side, new horns sensitive under Mystique’s clawed fingers.

Emma Frost and Selene Gallio pressed close to her thick, powerful thighs, their own enhanced blue bodies flushed and languid. Irene lounged nearby, one hand casually stroking the heavy swell of her pregnant belly, her yellow eyes distant as she watched countless futures unfold.

Mystique’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile as Hank’s message reached her. A deep, satisfied rumble vibrated through her chest.

Good boy, she purred back through the link, letting her approval wash over him like a warm, possessive caress. She felt him shiver halfway across the island. Soon, every baseline who takes their precious little pills will carry a piece of me. Their bodies will open. Their minds will soften. And when the hunger takes them… they will come to us. Or they will feed us.

In the den, Illyana’s tail flicked excitedly at the shared sensation. Emma’s icy eyes gleamed with wicked anticipation as she nuzzled deeper into Mystique’s side, lips brushing against blue skin. Selene licked her fangs, already imagining the coming feasts. Irene smiled knowingly, her hand drifting lower over her belly.

Hank—the thing wearing Hank’s face—let out another low chuckle, this one openly feral. Alone on the now-empty loading dock, he allowed himself a moment of indulgence. His form rippled visibly. Blue fur darkened to fiery crimson tones before smoothing back. His teeth sharpened into elegant fangs, then retreated. His posture shifted again, becoming taller, more commanding, more Mystique.

It will be glorious, Mistress, he replied, the mental link thrumming with raw devotion and dark hunger. Millions of little seeds planted across the globe. They will call it a miracle cure at first. Then the changes will begin. The cravings. The beautiful blue awakening. I can already imagine the first reports—confused patients suddenly feeling… stronger. Hungrier. More alive.

Mystique’s laughter echoed through the shared psychic web—rich, triumphant, and dripping with promise. The sound sent visible shivers of pleasure through every member of the coven. Illyana arched against her with a soft moan as Mystique’s claws traced one of her sensitive horns. Emma’s hand slid possessively up Mystique’s thigh, while Selene leaned in to graze her fangs along the Queen’s neck. Irene’s eyes fluttered, lost in the flood of pleasurable futures blooming before her.

Patience, my clever Beast, Mystique sent, her voice like velvet-wrapped steel, laced with affection and command. Let the first wave spread. Monitor the early cases. When the panic begins, and humanity turns to Krakoa for answers… we will be ready to offer them salvation in our image.

Hank bowed his head slightly, even though she could not see it. A warm wave of submission and ecstasy rolled through him at her praise. As you command, my Queen.

He allowed himself one final moment of private indulgence. Standing alone on the dock, he let his form shift more dramatically—blue fur receding into smooth ocean-blue skin, his body stretching taller, more voluptuous, more powerful. For a few glorious seconds, he stood as one of her—crimson hair cascading down his back, yellow eyes glowing with predatory delight, heavy breasts and wide hips filling out the tattered remains of his lab coat. His clawed hands roamed over his transformed body, savouring the sensation of power and fertility thrumming beneath the skin.

Then, with a **** sigh, he reshaped himself. The genial scholar’s mask slid seamlessly back into place—blue fur, hunched posture, warm scholarly smile. A group of workers returned from their break, chatting amiably.

“Excellent work, everyone!” Hank called out cheerfully, clapping his massive hands together with genuine-sounding enthusiasm. “Another successful shipment for the betterment of all. Now, who’s up for analyzing the latest Resurrection Protocol efficiency reports?”

The workers smiled and nodded, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the research pavilion. No one noticed the predatory glint that lingered just a little too long in his yellow eyes. No one saw the faint, satisfied smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Inside, the real Hank—the new Hank—savoured the secret. Millions of humans would soon taste their Queen. And when they did, the New World Order would spread far beyond Krakoa’s shores.

He could hardly wait.