Plots and Schemes

By the time she returned home an hour later, her belly had already tightened, the extra biomass redistributed. She was noticeably taller, thicker — hips wider, ass fuller, breasts heavier — and her smile was sharp with satisfaction.

Mystique looked up from nursing the latest litter, yellow eyes gleaming with approval.

“Shaw?” she asked.

“Dealt with,” Irene purred, running a hand over her newly enhanced curves. “And deliciously so.”

Raven’s grin turned feral as she pulled Irene down into a deep, hungry kiss. The two women pressed together, blue skin sliding against blue skin, while Emma watched from the side of the room with dark, envious hunger. Mystique didn’t even have to speak. With a casual crook of her finger, Emma was drawn forward until she was sandwiched between them, gasping as invisible threads of control made her hands roam over both women’s bodies.

For several long minutes, the three blue women lost themselves in each other — kissing, groping, grinding — until the sounds of hungry infants finally pulled them back to reality.

Once the newest litter was fed and settled, the three women lounged together on the oversized sectional, naked and glowing. Mystique sprawled like a contented predator, one arm around each of her corrupted lovers. Irene traced lazy circles over Raven’s firm hip and thigh while Emma rested her head on Mystique’s shoulder, still subtly testing the limits of the mental leash now wrapped around her mind.

“So,” Mystique said, voice low and amused. “Shaw won’t stay dead. The Five will resurrect him within a day or two.”

Irene nodded, her yellow eyes distant for a moment as she skimmed possible futures. “He’ll remember everything. The seduction. The way I rode him. The moment my jaw unhinged and I swallowed him whole while he was still inside me.” A small, satisfied smile played on her lips. “He won’t be happy.”

Emma let out a sharp, elegant laugh. “Understatement of the century. Sebastian has the ego of ten men and the vindictiveness of twenty. The second he draws breath again, he’ll run straight to whoever will listen — or start plotting immediate ****.”

Mystique’s fingers played through Emma’s crimson hair. “Suggestions?”

Emma lifted her head, icy intelligence still burning behind her new predatory gaze. “We need insurance. If we’re going to go around gobbling up people we don’t want, we certainly don’t want them coming back to get in our way. We need someone who can circumvent the resurrection protocol. Someone who can make sure when they’re gone, they’re gone for GOOD!”

She let the words hang for a moment, then smiled with wicked delight.

“Selene Gallio,” Emma grinned. “Imagine her with our gifts. Eternal youth, perfect shapeshifting, and an endless feast of souls… She’ll kneel for that kind of power. And once she drinks from you, Raven, she’ll beg to serve.”

Irene raised an eyebrow. “The Black Priestess? The soul-eater?”

“Precisely,” Emma said, sitting up straighter. “She consumes life ****. She can devour memories and personalities, even extending her lifespan in the process. If we bring her into the fold — give her the gift — she could ensure we never have to worry about our prey coming back to haunt us. And we could do it forever.”

Mystique’s grin widened slowly, showing the edge of a fang. She could already feel the threads of possibility expanding through the link she shared with both women.

“Selene has always been ambitious,” she murmured. “And she hates playing second fiddle. Offer her real power — not just a seat at the table, but a place in our coven — and she’ll jump at it. Especially if we let her indulge her appetites the way we do.”

Irene leaned in, nipping at Mystique’s neck. “I’ve already seen several paths where she joins us willingly. A few where I see that all she needs is… persuasion.” Her hand slid down to cup one of Emma’s heavy breasts, squeezing just hard enough to draw a soft moan. “But once she drinks from you, my love, resistance becomes… difficult.”

Emma shivered visibly at the reminder of her own submission, even as dark pleasure flashed across her face.

Mystique pulled both women closer, her voice dropping into a velvet growl.

“Then it’s decided. While the rest of the Council is busy being shocked, wondering where dear old Shaw has gone off to, we extend a very special invitation to Selene. We add her to our pack. We show her the future WE have envisioned. Then we deal with that pompous prick once and for all.” She kissed Irene deeply, then turned and claimed Emma’s mouth just as possessively. “By the time Shaw crawls back into the world of the living… it will already be too late.”

The three blue-skinned queens lay tangled together, bodies pressed close, minds linked by blood and serum. In the background, their ever-growing brood of perfect, blue-skinned children slept soundly.