Climax of the Sermon [pt.II]

Nightcrawler, a muscular blur of blue fur and sculpted flesh, squatted low before the young Markandan girl. His powerful thighs, like steel cables encased in fur, framed her ebony buttocks, offering them up for the divine anointing. His shoulders were thrown back, washboard abs gleaming with sweat, and his chest puffed out proudly. His long, prehensile tail swished back and forth with an almost hypnotic rhythm, mirroring the driving beat of the music a member of the palace staff with initiative had had pumped into the room to fit the mood.

The sight that greeted the assembled elite was both awe-inspiring and grotesquely beautiful. Every inch of his thick, blue shaft was plunged deep within the girl's welcoming folds, a stark contrast to the meager human members that were being viciously beat by their owners around the room. He could withdraw a full six inches of throbbing flesh, glistening with feminine creme, and still be firmly embedded with another full seven. The girl, her back arched in ecstatic surrender, met his every thrust with a reciprocating roll of her proud black buttocks.

The elite human men, their faces flushed with a mixture of envy and arousal, looked absurd. Mere months ago they had been distinguished and respected Wakandan elders, men whose influence extended to many areas of the nation. Their previous machinations of social climbing had taken a sharp turn – now, their sole focus was on securing the ultimate prize: having their wives sated by this magnificent mutant stallion. Dreams of mutant offspring danced in their heads, visions of powerful telepathic children or weather-wielding daughters or even sons with great big brightly colored horse dicks replacing their current lineage.

A sharp grunt escaped Kurt's lips as his powerful hips hammered away at the girl's rounded rump. "Let the power of the divine mutant seed flow through you!" he cried out. "Open yourself up to the blessing of God! Embrace the blessing of the X-gene! Become the bearers of His children!"

The girl moaned in response, her tongue lolling from her mouth like an animal's. "Yesss... " she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the blaring music. "Yes! Give me your mutant seed! Fill my womb with your holy child!"

Nightcrawler increased the intensity of his strokes, his palms cupping her plump buttocks and spreading them apart so that all could witness the miracle of mutant cock in human flesh.

The girl's father, a weathered warrior with a mischievous glint in his eye, beamed with pride. This wasn't just religious devotion; it was the ultimate social coup, his daughter chosen for the divine insemination.

A nearby palace servant, young and nimble with eyes wide with fascination, squatted mere inches from the epicenter of the action. Her neural implant capturing every intimate detail – the glistening blue mottled with pink mutant shaft, the impossibly wide spread of the girl's folds, the dangling blue scrotum slamming repeatedly against the backs of her thighs. This unfiltered view, a voyeur's paradise, would be beamed directly to the palace media center, edited, and disseminated across the Markandan internet for all to witness.

"Your God is pleased with your devotion," Kurt gritted out, his voice strained with effort. "And as such, has blessed you with his most sacred gift."

With a roar, he tightened his grip on her hips and rammed his cock into her deepest recesses with brutal ****, his entire body tensing as he unloaded a torrent of thick, syrupy seed into her waiting womb.

The girl gasped in shock, her eyes rolling back in her head as she felt his mutant sperm flood her insides, filling her with a sensation unlike any she'd ever known before.

The sheer volume was obscene and as the engorged tip erupted within her like a geyser, she found herself cumming immediately in response, a fountain of milky white fluid spraying past the tight seal of their joining.

The moment of climax had arrived with a crescendo of moans and cheers. Several women, thick black bodies adorned in little more than g-strings of silk and vibrant beads if at all, their faces contorted in a mixture of reverence and raw hunger, surged forward. Their nimble fingers caught dollops of the precious ooze, a stark contrast to the watery offerings of their human mates. This was mutant essence, a potential harbinger of extraordinary power for their future offspring.

With practiced grace, the girl was flipped onto her back, her hips propped high, legs dangling in the air like an offering plate. The palace servant, ever diligent, meticulously gathered any escaped pearls of seed, returning them to their rightful place within the girl's now-gaping womanhood. Nightcrawler, a picture of mutant kindness, reached out and stroked the girl's hair, murmuring words of reassurance. The image was comically marred by his now-flaccid horse sheath, a glistening blue tube dangling precariously close to her earlobe, a long line of ooze pouring from the loose opening.

A regal woman, her face etched with the wisdom of years, her silver dreadlocks coiled in a magnificent bloom around her throat, surprised everyone. Dragging her hesitant daughter along by the wrist she was a woman on a mission, determined to secure her family's future with the potent contents of those hefty blue balls. Eyes burning with ambition and with a predatory grace that belied her age, she dropped to all fours before Kurt, her pendulous brown teats grazing the tiles with their fat nipples, her gaze fixed on her target. With a practiced expertise gleaned from years of marital duty (and a healthy dose of telepathic encouragement from Emma Frost), she expertly 'baby-birded' the tip of Kurt's sheath, resolutely determined to secure the future of her bloodline with her lips and tongue.

The effect was immediate. With a wet slurp, his mutant virility reasserted itself, his glistening pink and blue shaft telescoping out like a reborn god.

The room erupted in cheers.

The revitalized Nightcrawler wasted no time, burying his equine manhood deep within the eagerly offered haunches of the matriarch's shy daughter. His kindness, however, knew no bounds. As the young woman writhed in ecstasy, his powerful prehensile tail lashed out, its spade-tipped end plunging into the surprised but ultimately delighted matron herself. The contrast between the mutant appendage and the withered human male organ was stark. This was a piston of pure power, its spade-shaped tip delivering a level of pleasure the woman had never dreamed possible.

The scene devolved into a joyous frenzy. Elite women crowded around Nightcrawler, their lips trailing fire across his sculpted body, their tongues tasting the sweat of their priest. His mutant form, once a thing of terror and alienation, was now worshiped as a symbol of power, fertility, and the divine will of Mark. In this new Markanda, diversity and celebration of the mutant form, in all its glorious variations, reigned supreme. And at the heart of it all stood Nightcrawler, a testament to the boundless possibilities that arose when mutant and human embraced as one.

As he ground away at the woman beneath him, his body awash with a feverish heat, Nightcrawler knew that this was God's true will. The other religions were paltry shadows of Markandan worship. Their practitioners were mere humans, weak and prone to mortal failings.

How could they understand the true power of mutantkind? The divine spark that blazed within Mark and now flowed through Nightcrawler himself?

No, it was clear that only Markanda held the key to the future. It was only here, under Mark's guiding hand, that mutants and humans could truly achieve their potential. Only here could they build a better world, a world free from fear and prejudice.

Kurt grunted with effort as he continued to plow away at the woman's eagerly awaiting cunt, his tail pistoning in and out of her mother's cunt with equally impressive vigour. This was the true heart of Markanda, he thought, the ultimate expression of mutant power and humanity's ability to embrace it. This was the beginning of a new era, one in which mutantkind and humanity would work together to create a better world for all.

As his orgasm approached, Kurt could not help but smile. He knew that Mark had chosen him as the vessel for this important message and he vowed to do everything in his power to spread the word to as many people as possible. For this was not just about faith or worship or even lust. This was about hope, hope for a future in which all people could live together in harmony.

Nightcrawler had brought the assembled faithful to an orgiastic frenzy. The room was awash in naked bodies writhing in ecstasy, black flesh intertwining atop the scattered seats, cushions, and couches. Many solo, some paired off in wild and pointedly not penetrative sex as the thought of polluting their wives' wombs with merely human seed was unthinkable now.

Emma Frost stood off to the side, a satisfied smirk on her lips. This had been a masterful performance, one worthy of her own genius. Her telepathic tendrils had wound their way into each member of the congregation, amplifying their already heightened arousal to levels beyond belief. Mark himself would have been impressed, had he not been occupied by Storm at that very moment in another room of the palace. She'd ensure he saw the footage and recognized her worth. Or perhaps she'd manage to navigate the psychic guard dog of Jean to invite him into her mindscape and truly experience it in the most truly intimate of ways...

She allowed her gaze to roam over the crowd, taking in their fervent worship of Nightcrawler's mighty mutant cock. It was an intoxicating sight, one that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. The intensity of their desire was palpable, a potent cocktail of lust and reverence that threatened to overwhelm even her formidable mental shields.