...a Hundred Back

The world snapped into focus with a jarring, almost physical lurch, and suddenly, Hisako wasn’t in the dormitory anymore.

The silence was the first thing she noticed. The deep, heavy, the kind of hush that only follows absolute satisfaction. The dim lighting bathed the room in warm amber, soft golden streaks of morning light filtering in through the vast windows. And there, at the center of it all, was them.

The X-Men.

Hisako barely had time to process the sheer wrongness of what she was seeing before the heat slammed into her like a tidal wave. It was instinctive, uncontrollable, her breath caught, her heart pounded, and a molten burst of unwanted arousal licked through her belly before she could suppress it.

They were all naked.

The massive round bed was a tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked bodies half-draped over each other, the unmistakable scent of spent sex still thick in the air. The sheets were rumpled, twisted carelessly around their sleeping forms, and at the center, like some hung, hairy Jesus on the cross, was him.

Logan.

Hisako’s mouth went dry.

Flat on his back, arms splayed wide as if he had been offered to this bed, to these women, Logan lay in perfect, primal ease. His thickly muscled chest rose and fell in steady, satisfied breaths, his powerful torso a sculpted bulging mass of muscle and thick, coarse hair. He looked spent, worshipped, the undeniable alpha in the pack. And sprawled against him, curled close, draped over his body like they belonged there, were the female mutants.

Quake, pressed under his arm, her leg hooked over his thigh in lazy possession. Rogue, turned away from him, but not really, her lush ass pressed invitingly to his hip, while her hand was curled possessively around Gambit’s much slighter package. And Jubilee…

Hisako’s pulse stuttered.

Jubilee lay nestled between Logan’s legs, against him, her cheek resting against the heavy nest of his balls.

And there.

There.

She had seen it before. Just once. A blurry, pixelated accident on YouTube, an old battle recording where Logan had been hit with some kind of energy blast, incinerating every stitch of clothing. The video had been pulled, but she had seen it, had stared too long before guilt made her close the tab.

But this... this was real.

His cock.

A thick, flaccid monster of a thing, resting heavily against his thigh, the broad, uncut head barely brushing against Jubilee’s dark hair. Even soft, it was obscene—heavy, thick-veined meat, so much that it seemed coiled, waiting. Hisako’s fingers curled involuntarily, and the heat in her belly spiked as a thought she did not want hit her like a gunshot.

My hands wouldn’t even go around it.

Her breath came sharp, her thighs pressed together on instinct. It was too much, the sheer masculinity of it, of him, sprawled there in spent indulgence, the women wrapped around him like a natural extension of his body.

This wasn’t restraint.

This wasn’t conditioning.

This was who he was.

And Hisako’s body, betraying her, loved it.

The room was an orgy aftermath. There was no other way to describe it.

Hisako's breath hitched, her body locking up even as heat curled deep in her gut. Every single one of them was naked.

The X-Men, the legends, the people she’d looked up to since she was a girl, were sprawled across the massive round bed, limbs tangled together in the perfect picture of raw, indulgent satisfaction.

She couldn’t stop looking.

Her gaze dragged helplessly from one exposed body to the next, drinking in everything too much, too fast.

Iceman was on his back, his normally smooth ice-form nowhere to be seen, revealing a lean, well-muscled frame. His skin was slick with sweat, glistening under the dim morning light, his soft cock lying thick against his toned thigh, his balls loose and spent.

Professor McCoy- Beast, all fur and raw bulk, lay with his limbs stretched out, a possessive arm draped over Shadowcat. His monstrous physique looked almost leonine, his wide chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. And between his legs... Hisako shouldn’t look, shouldn’t... but she did, and the thick blue cock that had been buried in someone that night was now slack against his muscular thigh, his heavy sack resting against the sheets.

Gambit ripped torso was underneath Rogue's tit, but Hisako’s attention was drawn downward to his dick. It was soft, unremarkable compared to his, but still thick, still undeniably male, undeniably mutant, Rogue’s hand was still curled around it.

But she hadn’t taken him.

Hisako knew.

Her stomach flipped as her eyes darted lower, between Rogue’s thighs.

Her pussy was battered.

Swollen, loose, her lips puffy and spread, filled with glossy, thick, spent cum.

Hisako’s breath caught, her body clenching involuntarily as the full, undeniable realization hit her.

That wasn’t Gambit’s.

That was Logan’s.

That was his seed, his work.

Hisako trembled, a shuddering rush of heat making her pulse hammer in her throat.

And then—Magma.

The light brown-skinned mutant lay tangled with Colossus, her body used, her thick, powerful thighs spread slightly apart, revealing the slick, swollen folds of her pussy: wet, glistening, and unmistakably marked.

But it wasn’t just a smear or trail.

She was coated.

Hisako could see the thick, pearlescent sheen of Colossus’ prodigious load glazing Amara’s inner thighs, dripping from her sex, even spattered across her lower belly. Her folds glistened with the volume of it; her pussy overflowing, clinging to her like warm, sticky paint. It shimmered faintly under the morning light, a lewd contrast against her molten tan skin.

And Colossus…

His massively brawny steel form gleamed, immaculate in most places except his crotch, which remained streaked and glossy with the remnants of his own massive orgasm.

His cock, still firm, was shaped not like a human penis but a smooth, thick cylinder of metal, devoid of a proper head. It jutted forward slightly from his groin, never fully going soft, instead settling into a dense, half-shrunken pillar, tilted to the left like a forgotten statue. His heavy, spherical balls hung low and still, metallic and unmoving, as though frozen in post-release rigidity.

His abdomen bore drying streaks of his own output, his groin slick with a glaze of cum that no amount of his natural armor could prevent from leaking across the scene of their union.

It was obscene.

Mechanical.

And yet utterly biological in its messy, potent truth.

Hisako stared, transfixed, shame burning her cheeks because nothing about it seemed romantic or tender.

It was just real.

Raw.

A mutant’s body and seed in total, unrelenting use.

Her mind was screaming.

But her body?

Her body was aching.

But her ogling eyes were always drawn back to him.

At the center of it all, like some primal, raw god of sex and war.

Logan.

Wolverine.

Sprawled like a conquering alpha, his massive, obscene cock still heavy and impossibly thick, even soft, draped over his thigh with its head resting just inches from Jubilee’s dark hair. His balls, massive, cradled close against his muscular frame, and Hisako felt herself clench at the undeniable, gut-punching truth.

She had never seen anything like this.

And she wanted to look away.

She couldn’t.

The scene shifted abruptly.

Hisako gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the world around her jumped forward like someone had hit fast-forward on a movie. The lighting had changed, the amber glow of morning fully settled now, and the bodies around her were no longer perfectly still.

They were stirring.

Her stomach clenched as she realized, Wensanga.

The realization struck like a lightning bolt. Of course she was controlling this. Of course the Markandans had neural implants. They could manipulate what she saw.

And now, Wensanga had decided to advance the recording.

A fresh wave of heat crawled up Hisako’s spine.

Because now she was watching something even more intimate.

They were waking up.

Her gaze snapped to the center of the bed, and her pulse skyrocketed.

Logan.

His breathing had deepened, his body shifting slightly as sleep began to recede. But the real shift, the thing that made Hisako’s entire body tense, her mouth go dry, was between his legs.

His cock, already obscene when soft, had begun to stir.

The thick, coiled mass of meat twitched, shifting from its lax, heavy state, swelling with slow, undeniable life. It was happening. Hisako watched as the thick length grew, inch by inch, rising from his thigh like some monstrous thing awakening from slumber. The sheer weight of it made the process slow, inevitable, as blood rushed into it, veins thickening, the foreskin drawing back ever so slightly to reveal the first hint of swollen, darkened flesh beneath.

It was huge.

The other men, they were stirring too.

Gambit’s cock twitched, thickening in Rogue’s hand even as she remained asleep, her fingers unconsciously tightening around him. His length was impressive, any normal girl would be more than satisfied.

But it wasn’t Logan’s.

Iceman let out a soft groan, his toned body stretching, his cock half-hard already, laying thick against his abs.

Colossus’ morning wood was undeniable, had thickened subtly, gaining an inch of length and straightening like a machine responding to a command. Now it stood at a perfect 90-degree angle from his groin, jutting from his sculpted abs like an architectural marvel-sleek, smooth, and gleaming, a flawless, headless shaft of solid arousal.

Even Beast, primal even in rest, shifted, his furred shaft thickening, lengthening, twitching against his powerful thigh.

Hisako’s head spun.

Every single one of them was getting hard.

But none of them compared to him.

Logan’s cock was a beast.

It had fully risen now, massive, thick as her wrist, the head broad and swollen, the foreskin peeled back just enough to show the ruddy, glistening flesh beneath. It pulsed, a heavy, undeniable weight on his stomach, its sheer presence overshadowing everything else in the room.

And Hisako...

Hisako was aching.

She clenched her thighs hard, her breath shuddering out of her in tiny, humiliated gasps.

This wasn’t right.

She shouldn’t be seeing this.

She shouldn’t be reacting like this.

But Wensanga knew.

The Markandan girl, unseen but ever-present, had guided her here, had led her to this moment not just to reveal the X-Men’s fall, but to **** her to feel it.

To make her understand.

That this was who they were now.

That this was their future.

And that, deep down, she was already losing.

The image shifted again, another seamless, controlled jump forward.

Hisako barely had time to recover from the sight of all those massive, naked, hard cocks before the scene changed, and her breath hitched violently.

They entered the room like goddesses.

Six Markandan women, utterly nude, their dark skin gleaming under the morning light, their bodies sculpted to perfection. They were not like the maids assigned to the students; these were royal attendants, older, more refined, with a grace and authority that made them feel like living avatars of sensual power.

They could have been black supermodels-the very epitome of the sexy African woman-each one blessed with impossibly large, perfect breasts and wide, prominent, round fleshy backsides that swayed like hypnotic pendulums with every step.

They moved slowly, swaying like lionesses, each step deliberate, hunting their prey.

Hisako could feel the shift in the air, even through the recording.

The X-Men were still sleeping but it didn’t matter. These women had a purpose, and they carried it out with languid, effortless confidence.

They climbed onto the massive bed, crawling with the grace of panthers, their curves on full display. Hisako’s eyes flicked down; their thighs, their asses, their glistening, black pussies bared completely, the slow flex of toned muscles as they positioned themselves over their chosen mutants.

And then...

They began.

A soft, wet slurp.

Hisako’s stomach clenched as one of the women took Iceman’s cock into her mouth, her lips wrapping around him with practiced ease. Another found Gambit, she kissed the back of Rogue's hand sensually before gently moving it aside and then her long, manicured fingers were stroking his length before her full lips descended, her cheeks hollowing as she took him in.

Colossus groaned in his sleep as a Markandan beauty nuzzled into the crook of his thigh, her tongue running up the length of his already steel-hard cock before she swallowed him deep, her round black ass lifting as she adjusted her position, putting her glistening folds on full display.

Beast shuddered as his attendant took her time, licking and sucking at his tip, her grip firm as she worked her way down his blue length.

But Hisako’s gaze was already locked elsewhere.

On him

Logan.

Two women had been assigned to him.

Hisako couldn’t breathe as they moved like synchronized dancers, crawling to their place between Logan’s hairy, spread legs. But they didn’t immediately go for him, not directly.

One of them leaned forward first and pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss to Jubilee’s temple. The younger mutant still lay curled between Logan’s legs, cheek resting against the heavy base of his cock, her dark hair tousled, her breathing slow and deep in sleep.

The attendant’s lips lingered, then drifted lower in a slow trail along Jubilee’s jaw before turning her attention to Logan’s massive balls. As she began to suckle and lick with sensual devotion, her other hand slid down across Jubilee’s side, fingertips brushing her hip, then lower still, gliding over her completely bare pussy.

She caressed the sleeping girl with almost lazy ownership, her hand moving in slow, idle strokes between Jubilee’s legs as if she were merely another part of the decadent scenery.

The second woman wrapped her lips around Logan’s shaft, working him with slow, deliberate precision, her mouth barely able to stretch around the monstrous girth. She took her time, tracing the ridges of the thick vein along the underside with her tongue, her movements perfectly in rhythm with her partner’s quiet worship.

Together, they looked like they’d done this a hundred times. Like this was their morning ritual.

The sounds...

Slurp. Suck. Wet. Deep.

Bobbing heads.

Hisako’s entire body reacted before she could stop it.

The way their dark hands traced along his hips, their fingers barely able to wrap around his cock, the way their lips glided down his length, slick and glistening. One lifted slightly, her plush, perfect lips popping free with a wet sound before she dipped back down, her tongue teasing his slit before swallowing him again.

Hisako ached.

Their bodies moved as they worked, hips tilting, backs arching, their black asses raised in perfect display, the soft gleam of their slick, waiting pussies glistening under the dim light. They weren’t just pleasuring him.

They were presenting themselves.

As if, at any moment, he might wake and take them.

And Hisako felt it. The heat, the unbearable, coiling pressure of her own arousal.

She shouldn’t be watching this.

She shouldn’t be reacting.

But her thighs pressed together anyway, her breath shallow and shaking.

Because deep down, a traitorous part of her whispered...

This is how it’s supposed to be.