The blue meanie

Ethan wakes to the sound of something moving in his room. A slow shift, like leather dragging across scales.

He sits up, heart thumping, glasses skewed on his face.

She’s there.

Blue. Naked. Her skin shimmering like a snake’s, patterned with subtle scales that catch the light. Yellow eyes fixed on him, glowing faintly in the dark.

Mystique.

She doesn’t smile. She prowls. Her hips sway as she circles his bed, head tilted like a cat playing with prey. Her tits hang heavy, nipples dark against the strange blue flesh, her thighs thick and firm, every curve exaggerated by that inhuman texture.

“Ethan,” she says, her voice husky, mocking. “So this is the boy who summoned me.”

His throat locks. “Y-you’re—”

“I’m whatever I want to be.”

And then it happens.

Her skin ripples, the scales melting, smoothing. Her hips narrow, her tits shift shape, her hair spills auburn and glossy down her back. In a blink she’s Jennifer Lawrence, perfect skin, soft lips, bare and glowing in the half-light. She leans down, grabs his jaw, and kisses him hard, her tongue shoving into his mouth.

Ethan gasps into it, half-hard already under the blanket.

She pulls back, smirking. “Cute. You’re hard just from a kiss. Pathetic.”

Her body ripples again, fast now, Emma Watson, Scarlett Johansson, Ariana Grande, women he’d jacked off to alone in his room. Each form grinds her tits against him, whispers filth into his ear, then melts into the next.

His cock twitches painfully, leaking already.

Mystique laughs, a cruel, sharp sound. She shifts back to her blue self, crouches between his legs, and yanks the blanket off him. His thin frame, his pale thighs, his hard cock straining in his boxers, all laid bare.

“Oh fuck, that’s adorable,” she sneers, her yellow eyes glinting. She presses a finger against his bulge, making his cock jerk. “So small. So eager. Tell me, Ethan, do you actually think you can satisfy me? Someone who’s had presidents, kings, gods?”

He moans helplessly as she stretches a hand, tugging his boxers down with a snap. His cock springs free, leaking, twitching. She laughs again.

“Mmm. Like a toy. A pathetic little toy. I could swallow this whole without even gagging.” She strokes him once, slow, squeezing cruelly, watching his eyes roll back.

Then she lets go. Stands tall, towering, her body rippling back into Jennifer Lawrence’s naked perfection.

She steps close, tits brushing his face. “Beg for it. Beg to cum, and maybe I’ll let you.”

Ethan’s cock throbs painfully, his body on fire.

But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out — just a strangled whimper.

Mystique smirks, bends down, kisses his forehead mockingly, and whispers:

“Not yet, little boy. You don’t get to cum until I’m done playing.”

Her laugh fills the room as she fades into shadow, leaving him trembling, cock aching, sheets damp with precum.