An Obligatory Blue Mutant Sex Scene! [pt. II]

The rhythmic hum of the Markandan Royal Talon filled the decidedly spacious cabin for what was for all intents and purposes Markanda's premiere air superiority fighter.

It was a stark contrast to the tableau of subdued figures slumped in their seats all around. Captured X-Men and mutant students, their minds rendered blank by Professor X's mental powers being manipulated by Mark, were mere passengers on this journey back to the heart of his burgeoning kingdom.

Nightcrawler stood directly before Mystique, his mother and longtime adversary, in a scene that blurred the lines between primal desire and taboo fantasy. His blue, velvety fur glistened in the dim light, highlighting his lithely muscular build—a physique that combined the elegance of an acrobat with the raw power of a predator.
His enormous equine erection jutted out dramatically from his groin, a symbol of overwhelming virility and impossible proportions. The thick, veined shaft, slick with Mystique's frothy arousal, seemed almost surreal against his otherwise streamlined form. The tip, flared and broad like that of a Clydesdale, hovered mere inches from Mystique's lips, throbbing with urgent need.

Mystique lay back casually upon Beast's lap, her expression a mixture of calm control and latent hunger. Her azure skin, shifting and shimmering with every subtle movement, contrasted sharply with the fiery red of her hair. She gazed up at Kurt with a predatory smile, her golden glowing eyes reflecting both maternal pride and a dangerous, forbidden desire.

Beast, his mind-blanked and reduced to a mere furry muscular seat, provided the perfect perch for Mystique. His powerful arms and legs were motionless, his usually keen intellect now subdued to a state of passive servitude. He was little more than a living throne, his massive frame cradling Mystique with a surprising gentleness.

"Quite the performance," Mystique purred, her voice laced with amusement. She shifted on Beast's lap, the rise and fall of her azure form a subtle provocation, mammoth blue titties wobbling. "Though one might think a holy man like yourself would feel some… shame indulging in such a carnal act."

Nightcrawler met her gaze, his glowing yellow eyes devoid of any hint of discomfort. Mark's influence had rewritten his moral compass entirely. "Shame is a human concept, mother," he spoke softly. "God, in his infinite wisdom, created us with desires. To deny them is to deny his will."

A cruel amusement danced in her eyes as a wave of briefly manifesting blue inch long tentacles seemed to erupt from her skin, the effect not unlike the flipping of double sided scales leaving an intimately familiar beauty of Romani heritage, her flowing blond hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, a radiant contrast to her warm olive skin.

Her face was a study in contrasts, with high, sculpted cheekbones that give her an aristocratic air, framing her intense, almond-shaped eyes. These eyes, a deep and mysterious shade of blue, hold a mesmerizing quality, reflecting a lifetime of wisdom and mystical knowledge. Her lips were full and expressive, often curved into a knowing smile that added to her enigmatic charm.

Mystique's transformation was a spectacle of shifting flesh and form, a testament to her mastery over her mutant ability. Her absurdly curvy and voluptuous figure contorted and compressed, the exaggerated curves and enormous blue breasts diminishing rapidly. Her azure skin flipped to a pale Caucasian hue, transforming to a soft, creamy complexion that matched the familiar delicate features.

With a fluid ripple of blue skin, Mystique's hips narrowed, her impossibly large buttocks reducing to a more modest size. Her waist tightened, no longer exaggeratedly hourglass but still maintaining a subtle curve. The swell of her massive breasts diminished, shrinking from the exaggerated HH-cups to a more manageable C-cup, still ample but now in proportion to a slender frame.

The effect was dramatic—a complete metamorphosis from the voluptuous, larger-than-life Mystique into the slender, delicate beauty. It was as if Mystique had shed an entire body mass of flesh and allure, becoming a different person entirely, yet retaining the uncanny grace and magnetism that defined her shape-shifting prowess.

His breath hitched.

Amanda Sefton... Jimaine, his adopted sister and lover. Her face had been seared into his memory for years—the image of her luminous blue eyes, the gentle curve of her lips, the sound of her breathy sighs as they lay together beneath the stars. He could recall each touch, each caress, each lingering kiss...

"Perhaps, dear Kurt," his mother said, her voice now laced with Amanda's husky whisper, "it's simply a matter of preference. A taste for the forbidden, a yearning for the familiar."

After a long moment in which to catch his breath and appreciate his mother's God-given ability to mimic perfectly the form of any she laid eyes on, a dark chuckle rumbled in Nightcrawler's chest, the sound resonating with a primal confidence that sent shivers down Mystique's spine, a thrill that had nothing to do with the aftermath of their coupling. "There is no shame in the love shared between siblings, especially when sanctioned by the Lord God: Mark. After all, didn't Adam and Eve populate the Earth?" His cock twitched in front of her face in emphasis, "Through ****."

Mystique smirked, "Ah, clinging to your 'good book' again? The notion that all of humanity sprang from just Adam and Eve is laughable. Surely even you must realize that there had to be a host of other 'broodmares and bulls' to make sense of such a tale."

"Passages of scripture are never meant to be followed so literally. Especially when Lord Mark's desires hold such higher priority in my heart." As ever the gallant priest, he picked up 'Amanda's hand and gave it a light peck, "Dear Amanda will be Mark's soon enough. Until then, I am perfectly content with seducing my mother in her original curvy blue form."

"Oh boo, how mundane." She teased, though her face showed her true enjoyment of his words. It wasn't her last play though, once more her body morphed and shifted, with bigger hips, much bigger boobs and darker hair with a familiar white splash, "What about this, Sugah? Sure ah can't tempt ya with a different adopted sister?"

"It doesn't matter what form you take, mother." Nightcrawler's voice was thick with conviction as he locked eyes with 'Rogue'. "God wills it, therefore I shall obey."

This wasn't the reaction Mystique had expected. A part of her, the part that had always held a sliver of maternal concern for Nightcrawler, had hoped to see a flicker of the old shame, a chink in the armor of his unwavering faith. Disappointment curdled into a dark amusement. This new son, this pawn of Mark's, was utterly predictable. Azure scales flipped and wavy brown and white hair became bright ruby red as she became her preferred jiggly and utterly feminine blue frame, a smirk playing on her lips. "As you wish, then," she said, "But remember, dear son, God may work in mysterious ways." A beat of silence, then a glint of malice in her eyes. "Perhaps He would find your… endowment more… pleasingly utilized elsewhere."

With a flick of her wrist, she gestured towards the dazed and unseeing form of Illyana Rasputin, ironically the new ruler of Limbo as his dear Amanda had been the old one. "There is your reward. A young Russian's slut's mouth and throat for your magnificent stallion's cock."

That got him going.

He shuffled over to the nearby young woman who was still and nothing more than a seated mannequin before this moment, his tremendous equine-like cock swinging obscenely between his legs.

"Open your mouth, Magik. Wide. Open." commanded Mystique with the expectation that she would be instantly obeyed clear in her voice and demeanor.

Mind-blanked and body slaved to Mystique as a ranking member of Mark's hierarchy Illyana complied with her new mistress' wishes instantly without any hesitation or delay. The nineteen year old ruler of Limbo was **** to open her mouth as wide as she could go, stretching her lips into a wide "O" shape as she did so.
The redhead mutant queen's laughter was cruel as she watched Kurt slide his incredible phallus into Illyana's open mouth and start pumping his hips, thrusting his thick meat deeper and deeper down her throat with every thrust. "Look at her! Taking it like a true slut," she taunted. "Now suck on it like you mean it!"

The once proud ruler of Limbo was obediently bobbing her head up and down on Kurt's long, thick length, sucking and slurping away at the monstrous equine-like shaft like it was the greatest gift she had ever received. Her lips stretched impossibly wide around Nightcrawler’s enormous blue shaft. The mottled pink patches of his cock glisten with her saliva, each rhythmic thrust into her mouth created obscene wet sounds that echoed through the cabin. Her throat bulged visibly with each inch she took, the effort causing tears to stream down her cheeks. The musky, heady scent of his arousal filled her senses, mingling with the recycled air of the aircraft.

Nightcrawler’s cock, a massive monument to his corrupted worship, glided in and out of her mouth, the slick surface sliding against her lips. The leathery sheath at the base bunched up, forming a fleshy barrier that her nose and chin pressed into, the smegma-filled tube adding a pungent note to the already charged atmosphere. Her lips form a tight seal, her cheeks hollowing with each powerful suck.

Mystique watched with a predatory gleam in her eyes, one hand caressing Nightcrawler’s heavy, leathery blue balls, the other teased her own dripping folds. The sight of her son railing his cock into Illyana's mouth filled her with dark delight, stoking the embers of her twisted lust. Nightcrawler had always been her favorite, a bit of a rebel who resisted her teachings but held potential. Now, his potential was realized in its full glory—a divine pawn in her hands, eager to serve her every whim.

A wry smile played on Mystique's lips. She could feel it, a faint thrumming in her core, a psychic echo of Mark's gaze upon them. Approval, raw and primal, fueled a fire within her. This wasn't just about dominance over Nightcrawler, her wayward son. This was about demonstrating her worth to Mark, showcasing the prize he possessed in her.

Unlike the other Queens, restricted to birthing children the old-fashioned way, Mystique possessed a unique advantage. Her shapeshifting prowess, honed over years of deception and survival, allowed her to not only carry Mark's offspring as a woman but to implant them as a man as well. A surge of pride, hot and primal, flared in Mystique's chest. Unlike the others, the omega-level telepath and that weather witch, her value wasn't limited to brute mutant power. She was the crucible, the vessel that could transform Mark's essence into a legacy that would echo through generations.

Her mind drifted back to Azazel, the memory of his demonic seed sparking a wicked grin. Her womb, a canvas of endless possibility, had taken his offering and sculpted it into something magnificent with her dear Destiny's foresight: her darling Nightcrawler. She'd implanted the seed, a blend of both Azazel and her own potential within Irene's womb and the result was this beautiful massively well hung mutant stud before her, with his mutant power and his religious devotion he'd spread her own genetic legacy alongside Mark's throughout the overwhelming mutant paradise Wakanda would become.

"That's it! Fuck her throat," Mystique commanded with relish as she watched Nightcrawler slam his monster cock down Illyana's throat. She was captivated by the scene before her—the sheer carnality of her son's display filled her with a perverse sense of satisfaction. She could feel his arousal and power radiating from his body, the effect intensified by Mark's overwhelming presence. "Take what you deserve. Take her like you want to take me!"

Minutes passed as the Royal Talon continued its journey, and the visceral, primal act between Nightcrawler and Magik continued. The rhythmic 'gluck gluck gluck' of Magik's throat accommodating Nightcrawler's immense cock filled the cabin, a stark contrast to the stoic, armored Markandan Royal Guard and hypnotized mutants surrounding them.

His glowing yellow eyes were fixed on Magik's face as he cradled it with his three fingered hands, taking in her tear-streaked visage and swollen lips stretched wide around his thick shaft. His massive balls slapped against her neck with each thrust, a reminder of his **** virility that nearly seemed to match Mark's.

Mystique's fingers kneaded and stroked her son's spade tipped tail as she held it to the canyon of her cleavage while Nightcrawler violated Magik's throat. "Good boy," she cooed, her voice laced with dark amusement. "Do you not find it immoral to make use of a body when its owner is not present? Poor Magik, so entranced, so unaware."

Nightcrawler's eyes met hers with the gentle certainty of a true believer. "Nein," he replied, his voice soft yet unwavering. "My member, large and blessed as it is, is a holy symbol, akin to the Christian's cross. It is an act of worship for Magik. This is why her mouth and throat were created by God."

Mystique's laughter was low and throaty, filled with dark amusement. "Oh, my dear boy, you are so wonderfully corrupted. Your God's touch has reshaped you into an instrument of his will, a champion of his divine vision."

He was too busy grunting his pleasure while he face fucked the mind-blanked Illyana Rasputin, his instinctive understanding of his 'divine will' not at all challenged by his mother's mockery.

Soon enough Mystique's own desires **** her to demand another turn and she crossed around Nightcrawler to climb onto the lap of a petite and quite flat-chested Asian girl on the other side of Magik. She squat upon the armrests of the seat and wrapped her arms around the petite mutant's back, pulling her face deep into her blue cleavage.

Each of Mystique's massive tits dwarfed the girl's head, the soft, warm flesh enveloping her as she breathed in the scent of Mystique's skin, a mix of sweat and a unique, primal aroma. Mystique's well-rounded blue buttocks shook enticingly, the motion drawing Nightcrawler's attention.

"That's enough playtime with the little girl. It's time to fuck your mama again. I'm sure you're getting a little overdue for releasing all that cum too."

"As you wish mother," Nightcrawler answered with a demure grin, Mystique smirked, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as Nightcrawler pulled his glistening, slick cock from Magik's mouth, the extraction long and slow until with a wet pop his engorged cock head slid free, raining thick globs of pre all over her shirt and lap. Magik's mouth stayed a wide open hole in her face, a mess of stringy saliva dripping down her chin and onto her chest, her eyes blank and unseeing.

Nightcrawler came over, positioning himself under Mystique, casually joining his mother in treating the girl as a mere prop. His nuts resting heavily on Hisako's stomach, the leathery sac warm against her skin as he guided Mystique down onto his member. Her entrance stretched to accommodate his girth, the slick heat of her enveloping him inch by inch.

Mystique moaned in satisfaction as Nightcrawler's monstrous cock slid deep inside her, filling her like only Mark could. "That's it, that's it," she cooed as he buried himself to the hilt inside her azure depths, his leathery sheath pressed flush against her ass. "Take me. Let me feel all of you."

Mystique ground her hips against Nightcrawler's, relishing the friction of his mammoth equine cock against her walls. She wrapped her arms even tighter around the girl's smaller torso, forcing the two of them into an even more intimate embrace. Her azure breasts smothered the girl's head, engulfing it in their soft warmth as she rolled her hips on Nightcrawler's monstrous manhood. She treated the girl like a sex toy, a living doll, and made no attempt to disguise this fact. Her blue hand found the back of the girl's head, fingers tangled in her hair as she **** her deeper into her cleavage, a silent command for her to service her royal tits with her mouth and tongue.

And the confirmation of her husband's telepathic presence came when the girl began frantically licking and kissing as best she could even as both hands came up to sink into the voluminous boobs engulfing her.
Mystique moaned and shrieked with delighted laughter, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd embrace such debauchery!"

Nightcrawler's response was reverent, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. "For you, mother, and for Him, I would do anything. I feel His approval in my very soul, in my balls," he groaned, each word filled with conviction. "A new world is being born and we shall be part of it."

Mystique rocked back and forth on Nightcrawler's throbbing member, grinding down on him with an intensity that matched his own. She reveled in his words, in his devotion, in the warmth of his flesh against hers. She knew Mark was reveling in it too. Her pussy clenched around him, the pressure building within her.

She could feel his arousal growing as well, his equine cock swelling within her, the shaft pulsating with increasing urgency. Nightcrawler's massive balls were squashed beneath her plunging hips against the girl's stomach. The bulk of that leathery scrotum beneath her ass was a testament to his potency, a promise of the potent load to come.

Soon enough Kurt could no longer hold back. He came inside his mother's azure form with a surprisingly high-pitched cry. The first spurt of cum filling her to the brim before the next sent it all squeezing out from the tight seal of their connected bodies and gushing down onto his sac and the girl's skirt.

The release of tension in her son's body against her back was palpable, the pleasure and satisfaction rolling off of him in waves.

Mystique tightened her grip on the girl, pulling her head up from between her tits so that she could take possession of her mouth with her own. The tongue inside was sluggish but it slowly picked up its pace as her remotely watching husband relayed commands through one of his telepath pawns and the girl began to eagerly return the kiss with lust-drunken enthusiasm.

A satisfied sigh escaped Mystique's lips as she broke the kiss and hefted one giant blue tit up with one hand while plugging the Asian's mouth to the nipple with the other. Nightcrawler's softening cock remained a pleasant sizeable mass trapped inside of her pleased pussy. She had always been a survivor, an opportunist. In this new world, she had found another way to turn her unique abilities into a tool for power and influence. Mark's favor, the key to securing her place in Markanda, was hers. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, now shimmered with possibility. The game was afoot, and Mystique, the ultimate shapeshifter, was ready to play.

With a wicked smile, Mystique settled in for the long flight to Markanda and let the girl's ravenous mouth nurse at her tit while she rode her son's member back to hardness and then proceeded to fuck him like a champion until they landed on the tarmac of Markanda's Royal Palace.