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The Savage Land Imbroglio	By : Ksennin Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 9884 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The following story is an adult-themed parody of the Uncanny X-Men comic book. The X-Men and all related characters are property of Marvel Comics. No profit was made from publishing it.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: This chapter contains dub-con and MC. Just letting you know...
Jean watched as Ororo tried to secure the skimpy towel around her body, with its curves that defied easy covering. It was a pointless struggle. Karl Lykos was waiting in the reeds ahead. Jean followed suit, sinking into the dark water of the lake up to her nose, only her eyes and a wet coiling of red hair staying above the surface to watch as Karl attacked.
The years had not been kind. Where once he was well-fed, with a full head of hair, a hermit’s life had made him emaciated; straggly hair and ragged clothes. Still, desperation gave him strength. He clung to Ororo with his bony arms like a barnacle on a ship. Jean sensed mutant power flowing from her to him, crackling under Ororo’s skin like lightning within a thundercloud. She could hear Karl’s thoughts, weak and meager—he was sorry to cause Ororo pain, he just wanted a little taste to sustain him, he was even embarrassed of becoming half-hard at the sight of Ororo undressed. And, most importantly, he would let go almost immediately.
Jean didn’t let him. She urged him on telepathically, emphasizing how good her power would feel, drowning out his remorse. By the time he realized how much power Ororo really had, what it would do to him… it was too late. Just as Jean wanted.
She had been wrong about a great many things in her life. The Professor had shown her that, and a long line of new ‘teachers’ had shown her more. The latest of them was Emma, who aside from being a heinous bitch, had shown Jean the meaning of ‘happiness in slavery.’ At the time, being suborned to the Hellfire Club had seemed frightening. It was scary being powerless, and no matter how much pleasure Emma had brought her, she still remained unsure that Emma could be trusted with her helplessness. But as time passed, nostalgia set in. As much unpleasantness as there had been, she had greatly enjoyed for once not being a mutant poster child, or the X-Men’s token female, or Scott’s devoted girlfriend. She had liked being a whore, if perhaps not Emma’s…
But Ororo had never known that pleasure. Everything was power and responsibility with her, from the birth of her mutant power onward. Her Oliver Twist childhood, living as a thief and orphan, had tainted powerlessness—making her forever associate it with being hurt and afraid. She needed to see that, without the specter of controlling herself, she could know true ecstasy. Being controlled by another could push her past the limits she’d unknowingly set for herself. And who better than Jean Gray, her best friend and the mighty Phoenix, to help her on her path to self-discovery.
She whispered once more in Karl’s mind. She wants you, Karl. You can make her want you…
At her urging, Karl’s manhood swelled from semi-erect to full hardness.
***
Shanna was tempted to watch as Scott dressed—he was a handsome man, and his obvious modesty gave him a bit of an allure. She sensed in him a certain restrained but predatory impulse, like the many hunters who stalked and crept and waited for their moment to pounce. Logan was a T-rex; big and lumbering, even though he was quite a bit shorter than Scott—somewhat as overt as Piotr had been. But he was willing. Already she could smell his arousal through the water dripping off him, as he stood up from his bath without an ounce of the self-consciousness Scott had… hairy where Scott was smooth, practically unshaven where Scott was soft as a baby, his eyes groping her whereas Scott’s were hidden behind his visor.
But soon, Scott was gone. Logan stood there. Shanna hadn’t had a chance to see Scott’s cock, but Logan’s was proportionate to his body. Short, but thick and powerful, with the same compact strength that extended through his entire physique. He was brutish to the point of ugliness, but there was something too appealing about him to dismiss. A savagery. Virility. She found herself needing him to rut with her, as he so clearly desired.
He made the first move, of course. Sauntering out of his bath, leading with his cock, giving her just enough time to flee for Shanna to realize she didn’t want to. She reached out to grab his cock, finding that it fit neatly in her hand, warm and hard despite the water. She knew what to do with it. She wouldn’t mess up like she had with Zar. Instead, as if Colossus, she would squeeze him as hard as she could.
***
Scott was glad Jean wasn’t around when he stalked out of the bathhouse. He was giving serious thought to going back in there, blasting Logan like he could’ve at any time, and taking that blonde supermodel like she was begging for. There had to be some way to end up respected as the leader—at the moment, that was all he could think of.
No, he had to control himself. Had to keep control. That would just make things worse. Sinking to Logan’s level might win some temporary fear, but he’d forever lose the others’ respect.
Assuming the other X-Men did respect him. Assuming they didn’t feel the same as Logan, that he was a prig, a buffoon, a mascot, and they were all just too polite to say anything about it. They let him play at strategy and tactics, but when the chips hit the fan, would they listen to him or the Professor, or Storm, or Jean, or even Logan?
Scott felt the beginnings of another tension headache. He wished he could just rip his visor off and stare at the sun, letting the optic blast escape him until all of this restless energy was gone. But no. Even that was too risky. Imagine he looked elsewhere for one second, or there was a plane, or a satellite even. He couldn’t chance it.
Every other mutant he’d met could control their powers. His power controlled him. And it was so… fucking… unfair.
Behind him, he heard a pained cry exploding from the bathhouse. Seemed like Logan was having a good time.
***
Karl felt a stabbing of guilt as he tightened his grip on the black woman’s arm, but it was easily forgotten. She was absurdly posed, trying to pull away with him with one arm still mindlessly holding her towel to her chest, but beautiful nonetheless. And powerful. So powerful. He had only intended to get a taste, to sate the appetite his other self was always growling through, but she was so strong. So strong. He had expected a mutant and instead leashed a god.
So he hung onto her and took her power into himself, felt the old familiar rush. His blood thrumming, his skin pulsing, his muscles pushing against each other to grow outward. In one press, he went from anemic to superhuman, and just barely stopped. The woman fell to her knees—this pose more attractive than the last. Karl didn’t want to drain her dry. She had something he wanted first, more even than all that delicious power.
He grasped her by that stunning white hair, forcing her face up to his. “Look into my eyes, woman. You are not looking into the eyes of a man. You are looking into the eyes of Sauron.”
Even as Karl Lykos would not be denied, Storm would not be conquered. However belated, her rage at this treatment peaked, giving her the strength to push back the irresistible. With one last spark of defiance, she said “The bad guy from the Lord of the Rings?”
Her words were defiant, not carefully chosen.
Karl had been over this before. “It is a homage, a literary reference to the—“ He caught his temper and intensified his gaze. Once more he could feel the power within himself. The greatest power of all. Mesmerism—to impose his will over that of others. With it, he could control presidents and kings, priests and pimps, cops and criminals. But right now, most of all, he wanted just enough control over this woman for her to have no control at all. “Look into my eyes, girl. They are not normal eyes. Do you see the way they shine? Don’t you love how they shine?”
Ororo could only nod gently. Sauron was right—his eyes were like tiny jewels, and though it was day, it was almost as if milky moonlight was hitting them at just the right angle to make them glow. Like a silver light was coming right out of his eyes and into hers. For just one moment, like she was remembering a forgotten chore, it seemed incredibly important that she shut her eyes and not look at Sauron. But no. How could that be as important as looking into the depths of those amazing eyes?
“Keep looking into my eyes,” Sauron commanded, his voice lowering. “Look very deeply into them. What’s happening?”
“Getting brighter,” was Ororo’s weak answer. His eyes were like spotlights now, the light pouring from them painful to behold. Now Ororo tried to look away, but couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on the silvery light that was spreading from his eyes to become his whole face.
“It feels good to look into my eyes, does it not? It is quite relaxing. The brighter they get, the more relaxing it is.”
Ororo almost did not know that she said yes—she was mostly aware of thinking that Sauron was right (of course he was right), and that seemed like the same thing. It felt very good to look into the silver. The tension that had filled her body over her fight with Jean was gone. The lingering shame from escaping Emma’s ship was also gone. All she could remember now was the pleasure of that masturbatory episode; it had stayed with her all this time, and now she realized Jean was right about her. She wanted more. She wanted the real thing.
“You would do anything to keep looking into my eyes, would you not?”
Ororo leapt to his meaning like a high-jumper. “Please don’t take it away! Please? I need it.”
“It will not go away, so long as you obey me. Will you obey me?”
“Yes. Don’t take the good feeling away.”
“I won’t. The good feeling is getting better. You are getting more relaxed, even more at peace. You feel good. You feel better than you ever have in your life. You feel so good, so relaxed, so at peace that you could fall asleep right now. Sleep, girl. Let your body fall silent and feel nothing but the peace I bring to it. You want to sleep. I know you want it.”
It was true. Ororo had felt so relaxed, so at ease listening to his voice and looking into his eyes, that it only made sense she felt a wave of sleepiness wash over before. She hadn’t been tired before, she didn’t quite feel tired now, but she felt so lethargic that she couldn’t keep her eyes open. But she had to stare him into his eyes. She felt like she was waging a war. Her body’s need to sleep, to obey, versus the good feeling that could only continue if she looked him in the eye.
Her mind grew fuzzy. The world fell away—sound and scent and taste and touch—everything but the marvelously silver glow of those strange eyes. The only thing letting her cling to consciousness when she was so tired that she could pass out. She could not form a single thought. She didn’t even want to. Not when it was so important that she kept staring into his eyes.
“Sleep, girl. I will it. I command it. You must go to sleep. But not just any sleep. You are entering a trance. Your mind is becoming a void where there is only my words, my orders, your obedience. You will continue to know the good feeling in this void, but you will also be aroused. You will feel all the arousal that you hold back in your day to day life—all the arousal you feel in your deepest, darkest fantasies. I’m going to count down from five. As I count, from five to one, you will feel passionately aroused with each number I speak. The lower the number gets, the more pleasure you feel and the more you want. You will want to make love. Even if you have never been with a man before, this arousal will be like the good feeling. It is nice and relaxing. You will see nothing wrong with giving into it. This arousal is natural and good. I am counting now, and you are becoming sleepier and more aroused. Five.”
Ororo swayed slightly and grabbed onto Karl’s shoulder for support. Though she was usually quite reserved around strangers, now she saw nothing wrong with touching this odd man. She even thought of how nice he was, allowing her to hold onto him when her legs suddenly seemed so weak…
“Four,” he said, and Ororo felt such a powerful sensation that she stumbled. Karl caught her in his arms, observing with some amusement that she’d fallen so the towel stayed draped over her front. Her subconscious aversion to sex must’ve been incredibly powerful. Still, now he could look over her shoulder and see the wonderfully rolling hills of her ass, so ripe and buoyant. Even covered, they would be a temptation. Bare, they were begging to be touched.
“Three.” Ororo shook ever so slightly in his arms, from her hair all the way down to that amazing ass. Even that tiny motion was enough to make it jiggle. When she looked up into his eyes once more, seeking the good feeling, Ororo’s eyes were dilated. Her breasts heaved with each breath.
“Two.” Ororo gasped with another little shock of sexual pleasure. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. Karl could scent her now—smell her arousal even in his mostly human state. He broke the cadence he’d been using, making Ororo hang on the last sensation, and though she tried not to, she writhed with the need for more.
“One,” he whispered, and Ororo went limp, her head slumping down to spill white curls over her face and down to her abdomen. “Are you in the void, girl?”
“Yes,” Ororo breathed, and Karl could resist no longer. He reached for the towel preserving her modesty, thought better of it, and instead clenched his hand into a fist.
“Take off the towel for me. Show me your body. I want to see it. I am your master. You will obey me.”
The sense of lethargy, of relaxation, that Ororo felt had deepened to the point of forming an abyss for her to fall in. Everything Karl said went through one ear and out the other, impossible to focus on, leaving only echoes that might as well have been Ororo’s own thoughts. She wanted to be naked; but she also didn’t. It was bad somehow. Dangerous. Even though she liked the danger, even though the danger aroused her…
Sauron saw her hesitation, her hands rising to the top of the towel and then trembling in mid-air. He was still weak, his power unsure. He needed practice.
“Look into my eyes,” he commanded, and this Ororo obeyed almost needfully. “You like the glow from my eyes, don’t you? You especially like seeing the glow with your own eyes. But it will feel even better on your skin. If you remove the towel, you will feel the glow on your skin, and the good feeling will be there too. The more naked you are, the more you can feel the glow. Do you want to feel it?”
Ororo did not answer. She just lifted her hands up, took hold of the towel, and slowly lowered it down her body. First, her breasts were exposed. Firm enough to be high-set, but ample enough to be soft, the perfect thing for Sauron’s reintroduction to the female sex. He literally licked his lips, wanting to run his mouth all over them, but was unwillingly to end his dominance over her so quick and simply.
Feeling the glow from his eyes on her chest, Ororo’s breasts heaved and her nipples hardened painfully, the only thing that could make her cleavage even more perfect. Karl watched, his breathing deepening and quickening, as the towel was peeled away from her flat, trim stomach, off her thick but sleek hips, even from her tightly closed thighs. He could just see the dark red glow of her labia crushed between her legs.
Ororo had expected to feel the same shame that had marred her pleasure as she escaped from Emma Frost’s prison, but it never came. She loved the feeling of being naked and she loved the silver glow covering her body. It was like feeling warm sunlight on her naked body, but more intense, almost physical. She knew of only one thing that would feel better. Lying in Karl’s arms like a swooning bride, she inched her legs apart. She played her hands on her fit body. She brought her fingers down the length of her ebony skin, feeling the heat of the glow on her palms and on the backs of her hands. Far below was her destination. The glow-warm flesh between her legs, where her hands would feel the full heat of the silver.
“I am your master,” Karl repeated. “You must obey me. Close your eyes.”
Ororo did, the command easy to obey now that she could feel the glow on her skin and in her hands. Her palms continued to wipe at the lingering moisture of the lake as they wandered down her stomach.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes, master.”
“What is your name?”
“Ororo Munroe,” she answered readily. Her fingers dipped into her belly button in passing. “Also called Storm, of the X-Men.”
“Ororo…” Karl breathed, watching with bated breath as Ororo remained in control of herself enough to skate her hands down her hips. Or perhaps she had lost so much control that she couldn’t stop herself. “You will not touch your vagina. That is for me alone. You may touch yourself elsewhere, but not there.”
Ororo’s beautiful face contorted in dismay, actually whimpering like a dog as her hands instead clenched at her thighs, rubbing and kneading the firm flesh so close to the needed destination.
“Now, do you want to look into my eyes once more?”
“So much,” Ororo begged. “Please?
“You will stay in your trance. You will remain in the void. But I am allowing you to open your eyes.”
Full of gratitude, Ororo opened her eyes. Again, she looked into the silvery glow that had consumed Sauron’s face, eclipsed the whole world. Entranced as she was, she knew enough to smile. Looking into his eyes felt even better than feeling them on her body.
“Repeat after me,” Karl said softly, even as he almost panted with the power he had over her. “Sauron is my master.”
“Sauron is my master.”
“Karl Lykos is Sauron.”
“Karl Lykos is Sauron.”
“Karl Lykos is my master.”
“Karl Lykos is my master.”
Karl hissed in contentment. “Who is your master?”
“Sauron.”
“Who is Sauron?”
“Karl Lykos.”
“Who is Karl Lykos?”
“My master.”
“One last question.” Karl bit his lip. He was painfully hard by now. It hurt just having his cock confined to the tattered jeans he had worn since coming to the Savage Land. “What would you do for your master? What would you do for Karl Lykos? What would you do for Sauron?”
Ororo smiled. It was such an easy question. So simple. “Anything he wants.”
“I wish to know your darkest, most intimate fantasies. Tell me what you desire. Now.”
Ororo opened her mouth and the words poured out. Every wet dream, every sick fantasy, every passing crush. She’d had no idea there was so much of it. She hadn’t had to work on coming up with masturbatory fantasies of her teammates—she’d had to work to fool herself that she didn’t already have them. Not just them, but celebrities, Avengers, even supervillains. Her doing things to them, them doing things to her. As soon as her lips were parted, it was all ripped out of her. She wasn’t a goddess at all. She was a pervert who wanted to fuck and be fucked in every single way there was, from the most romantic imagery to the most dirty and depraved.
Finally, she caught her breath. “I want… to be kissed,” she finished lamely. That most of all. That simple gesture that she had barely allowed herself, because that one thing could lead to so much more.
Karl tightened his arms around her, crushing her naked body to his, and forced their lips together. There was no romance to it, barely even sensuality. Just his power. So much power that even a goddess could bow before it.
Ororo felt herself moisten. The glow was all over her body, but where she really needed it was inside her.
***
Jean watched as Karl kissed her unwilling best friend, hungrily, passionately, domineeringly. Just the kind of kiss Ororo never allowed herself, and so just the kind of kiss that Jean knew she needed. There was no love in it, no emotion besides an almost wrathful hunger, but honestly, Jean thought that just made Ororo respond more passionately. It was hard not to notice how she twisted and turned her body into Karl’s roving hands, how she moaned at each grasp he took of her offered flesh, how her inner thighs were now as slick and shiny as her core. It wasn’t Karl’s commands that had her responding so enthusiastically to his touch, nor was it at his order that she was so aroused by his lips on hers. It was just what Jean had always known—that Storm needed to be fucked just that badly.
And Karl needed it too, Jean sensed. He could feel the vast reservoir of Ororo’s power, still locked within her body. And what a way he had to get it out.
Jean watched, the feeling of the water swirling around her nude body suddenly seeming more powerful, as Karl’s hands roughly grasped Ororo’s hair. She gasped as he jerked her head back, but her face quickly filled with a sultry smile as he tugged her lower. Was it him that forced her lips to his bare chest, urging her to kiss and suckle at his skin, or was that Ororo? Jean couldn’t tell from a distance. She couldn’t tell if Karl was urging her on or holding her back, trying to savor the feel of her tongue against his toned stomach while she was determined to kneel.
Then Ororo’s hands were at his jeans, tugging at the waistband and zipper at the same time, anything to pull his endowment free of its confines. She succeeded, and Jean had to gasp. Karl must have siphoned much energy from Storm. He pressed down hard to guide her open mouth to his cock, but she was already falling upon it, and he ended up just holding Ororo’s head between his hands as she bobbed up and down on him.
***
Half of Ororo was sucking on Lykos’s cock and the other half couldn’t believe she was doing it. Somehow, she was both—this seething slut who enthusiastically catered to Karl’s every whim, and herself, Ororo Monroe, weather witch, still able to insist to herself how impossible this was as she forced every inch of him into her gullet. It was like having a sexual fantasy she couldn’t stop thinking about, because it was really happening. She was really taking him in her mouth, tasting his precum as it trickled down her throat, the taste bitter but somehow delicious to her. She had never had anything like this in her mouth before, and she wondered if it could truly be there. To her horror, Ororo found her tongue wonderingly bathing his glans, confirming to her that it was his manhood settling in her throat.
This cannot be happening. I am Storm, deputy leader of the X-Men! Not some wanton whore who would suck a man off without even knowing him!
Once again, her body double-checked what was being done, hands roving over his hardened midsection and powerful legs while her head continued to nod against his crotch, as if saying yes to this continued degradation. His muscles seemed larger than she remembered glimpsing, his skin colder, smoother. No, that wasn’t important! She had to fight this! She had to find a way to overcome this devil’s control!
Karl moaned in awe as her lips sunk to the base of his cock, angling his hips toward her in helpless ecstasy, and Ororo felt a flush of pride. He was a hateful villain who was taking incredible liberty with her, but then, she was rocking his world. Almost helplessly, her mind returned to the chilly heft of the phallus in her mouth, the way it fit down her throat so rightly.
It seemed to be getting longer.
***
After he let loose a bit of a girly screech, Shanna backed away from Logan. Judging from the way he was wincing and hunching over himself, he hadn’t liked her handjob as much as Piotr had. She’d never understand men.
“I hurt you,” she said flatly, and Logan thought he could detect a hint of pride in her voice at paining the dinosaur-slayer. He’d been wondering whether blondie wanted it sweet or sour, and after this, he was pretty sure the dial was tuned to sour.
“Yeah,” Logan muttered, when he was satisfied his voice wouldn’t squeak. “But it’s okay. I’m all better now.”
And just like that, he tackled Shanna, hustling her to the floor. She instinctively tried to scurry out from under him, but her caught her by her flailing limbs and flipped her over, now pinning her down with both of his meaty hands on her shoulders and his body holding down her legs. Her arms pedaled, pounding on the ground and scratching at it like an animal, but he had her good and caught.
“Hold still, darlin’. Need you quiet for you to make that up to me.”
Shanna fisted her hands in the grassy carpet of the bathhouse, but the howl he’d felt building in her sternum disappeared. She was playing ball. “How?”
He decided to show her. Letting her up, but giving her ass a hearty slap to tell her to stay put, Logan’s hands went to his cock. His mutant healing factor had dulled the pain, even brought his erection back up to snuff, but he didn’t feel like testing it out in pussy just yet. Then he looked down at Shanna’s ass—damn fine for a white girl, just the right mix of muscle and curve, so it was soft but not flabby, firm but not hard. Still tending himself with one hand, Logan cupped his other palm over a smooth cheek and felt his fingers sink in like warm silk. That was damn promising.
Now he tightened his fingers, pulling her cheek out and away from the crack it hid. Giving his crank one last stroke, he slotted his semi-hard member between Shanna’s buttocks, took hold of those lovely mounds of flesh in either hand, and closed them over his cock.
“Hell yeah,” he breathed, feeling himself surrounded by warm flesh, his own hands holding it shut on him so he got just the right amount of pressure. If he could just persuade a few of those native girls to hold a cigar for him, maybe another one to be a cupholder for the local brew, this’d be one hell of a vacation. And almost immediately, his cock was up to adamantium hardness, with only a lingering trace of soreness to make the whole thing a little sweeter.
Shanna wasn’t looking too comfortable with the arrangement, throwing her hair around to see what he was doing over her shoulder. Logan had guessed it wouldn’t go down easy with her—nothing a frail hated more than their man getting off without taking them along. But it served her right after using his cock for a stress ball.
He kept right on relaxing into the warm feel of her ass around his cock, a nice lazy fuck, just rubbing himself into that beautiful butt. It seemed like nothing more than a fun warm-up before the big game, but he found himself really liking having Shanna facedown while he rutted with her in completely selfish pleasure. A bit of the chauvinist in him, maybe, the caveman. And getting to squeeze that pretty ass of hers at the same time, feeling it yielding to and resist his groping all at once… well, he wasn’t complaining about that, either. He even gave it a few spanks for good measure, sending a jolt through his cock and making Shanna yowl in outraged tension. Oh yeah. Damn fine way to spend an afternoon.
He had been intending to give Shanna a front-row seat to her own fucking, jam himself in and show her what he really did best, but fuck it, this felt too damn good to stop. Logan sped up, holding her butt so tight he could barely move, but his cock was nice and slippery with precum, and it dug between her cheeks like a bar of soap in the shower.
“You bastard,” Shanna breathed, able to feel how big and hard he was but not do a damn thing to get him where she needed it. “Fuck me already!”
“I am fuckin’ ya,” Logan replied amicably, “we’re just doin’ it Japanese style. The man comes first.”
The growl of dissatisfaction Shanna let out settled the deal. Definite caveman spank bank stuff, hearing and feeling her all disgruntled but wanting it too—submitting to him, all wolf pack like. Logan drew back until he might slip out, then dove back in, a full-length stroke that ended with his cockhead poking out at her tailbone just in time to spurt. One of them mighty big ejaculations his mutant condition left him with, the reserves a normal man would take months to build up and Logan had gotten laid only last week. His cock pulsed quite a few times, getting it all out, shooting thick ropey streams that settled in that cute little dimple at the small of Shanna’s back—filling ‘er up like a dish of soap.
Shanna’s mouth dropped open, both at the power of his cumming and at the knowledge that once more it wasn’t inside her. She still didn’t know what it even felt like to really get fucked!
“We’re done!?” she cried in dismay, reaching behind herself to dip her fingers into the pool of cum he’d left for her. “I barely even got to feel your manhood this time!”
“Done?” Logan chuckled. “We’re done when I say we’re done. Uh-uh, sweetheart. My genes zigging where they should’ve zagged’s given me a lotta problems over the years, but that ain’t been one of ‘em. One, two, three… and the ol’ Canuckhead’s ready for more. Sometimes, having a mutant healing factor is a realllll bitch.”
Shanna looked over her shoulder once more—and gaped. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’d gotten even bigger.
Logan guessed her thoughts. It was easy enough. “What can I say, darlin’? I’m a grower, not a shower.”
***
Jean could only watch as power once more ran from Ororo; she could’ve been exhaling it into Karl like one would inflate a balloon. A literal blowjob. Karl, tall to begin with, grew taller, leaner, his shoulders broadening while the rest of him stayed to scale. He held out his wiry arms to the side and they sagged like melting rubber, before Jean realized those were the membranes of wings being formed. As his skin changed color, hardening into a fertile green, and his hair fell off like dirt in a shower, the most startling change of all occurred. He snapped his teeth out in a horrid smile, his jaws going further and further until they were outside his lips, elongating into a long, hardened beak.
No, Jean took it back. The most startling change was his phallus, which grew large enough to push Storm away from his groin, where she’d been nestled, and leave her gagging on the ground below the saurian monster that had replaced her master. Jean knew him; a man whose mutant evolution had somehow fallen on a parallel track to that of the extinct Pteranodon, a humanoid beast in the lineage of Hank or Kurt. “But you’re dead!” she couldn’t help herself from crying.
Karl ignored her, but not her words—he spoke as if the world itself had whispered to him and he could answer it in kind. “Dead, you say? I am evil incarnate—I cannot die! Behold, world, the rebirth of Sauron! And know that as I claimed this she-mutant, so shall I claim all that I desire!”
Midway through his speech, Ororo spread her legs and began to touch herself. She hoped the monologue wouldn’t take long. He had barely ravished her at all yet.
***
Logan flipped Shanna over, pinned her down again with his hands on her chest. Total coincidence. Honest. He looked over her now that he had her on her back—good-lookin’ frail. Great-lookin’ frail. More curves than he knew what to do with, and now that her cunt was in open air, he could smell her need like he was havin’ perfume sprayed in his face. And it sure was tempting, that pink slit almost turnin’ to red, but he had to be honest, at the moment, he had a hard time taking his mind off how those tits felt in the palms of his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking of how they’d feel around his cock. And, truth be told, he was getting’ to like frustrating Jane of the Jungle.
He straddled the blonde, parked himself right over her ribs and laid his cock between her tits. Got a firm grasp of ‘em with his paws and brought ‘em together, a nice little sandwich with his junk in the middle. It felt good in his hands, felt great on his cock, and looked damn pretty too. Softer than her buttcheeks had been, but no less firm. Just less muscle. Fuck, he couldn’t explain it—it just felt perfect. Growling with contentment low in his throat, Logan began to thrust into the warm valley of her cleavage.
“I need you inside me,” Shanna said, growling herself, all need and want, “I need it!”
“All good things, blondie. All good things. Figure you owe me another little bit of fun from that handshake ya gave me below the belt. Don’t worry ‘bout it; I’ll be quick.”
True to his word, precum was seeping down the slope of his cockhead to leave a slimy trail under his dick, out of her cleavage and up to her swanlike throat with his cock. Shanna’s tongue peeked out of her lips, breathing so hard that her exhales wafted over the knob of his phallus. If she couldn’t have him inside her, she wanted to taste him—but even tipping her head forward and sticking her tongue out, she couldn’t quite reach his cock. Logan laughed at the show.
“Here, darlin’. Try this on for size.” And he cupped her plump tit with one callused hand, lifting it up to Shanna’s tongue. It was so big that Shanna was easily able to lick the slope of her own breast, even reach her areola with the tip of her tongue. It felt good… offered some relief from all the teasing Logan was doing.
He couldn’t resist anymore. His cockhead was rapidly turning a shade of purple he wasn’t used to. His balls dragged up Shanna’s taut stomach as he worked his way through those gorgeous tits one more time, until his cock was squeezed through her cleavage and ran up her clavicle, up to her waiting mouth. She stopped licking her tits and opened her mouth as wide as it could go. The sight of her, eyes intent on his cock, lips wide open, all submissive and willing but with just a hint of fire in her eyes—that did it.
Shanna literally felt his shaft throb as his cum sped out of his balls. A thick jet of it shot against her parted lips, so hard that her head jerked back and the next burst sloshed into the fluttering hollow of her throat. She whimpered, shocked at how hot it was—part of her feared it would scald her and part of her didn’t care. He spurted again, onto her cheek, and again into her hair, and again, and again. Logan seemed to have an unlimited supply, a floodgate in him that had finally burst. He roared as he grinded her tits together on his cock, bucking his hips as if he were squeezing the cum out of himself, buffeting it into Shanna’s face.
“More, more!” Shanna demanded. Unbelievable as it seemed, he still hadn’t come in her mouth. “Don’t stop!”
Logan felt one more dollop waiting to go. He slapped her tits a few times, sending warm ripples up his cock, then took a deep breath and sighed in contentment as one last geyser erupted from him, right past those gleaming lips. Shanna took so much that it spilled down her chin; then her throat moved with a weighty swallow. Her face had so much spunk on it that she reminded Logan of his last trip to Japan.
Not that Logan could do much thinking then. Everything but his cock had gone limp; it was still rock hard where it nestled in her cleavage, twitching erratically. But the rest of him… Christ almighty, he felt like he’d lost blood instead of cum. When he tried to stand, his legs shook, and he staggered back down to one knee, his cock landing on Shanna’s belly—soft-hard like the rest of her.
Licking her lips, Shanna reached down and grasped Logan’s cock and balls, squeezing the latter like she wanted them pumped absolutely dry. The last dregs of his current batch floated out of his knob in a trickle. Shanna gathered it up like she was petting him down there and rubbed it on her lower belly, from groin to belly button. When she’d finished, her womb gleamed dully, like she was painting him a target.
“Now inside me?” she asked, eyes up at him, lashes batting all innocent-like. Girl was going to be the death of him. But Logan felt his mutant healing factor, his warrior spirit, his animal instincts all pulling him up for another round. He breathed hard, soaked in the scent of her want cut with his cum. Nothing more for it—she was his mate and he was gonna give her what she’d asked for.
By the time he’d finished, there wouldn’t be a frail within a hundred miles half as well-fucked.
***
For Jean, watching Ororo being taken was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Sauron had locked his arms around her, his membranous wings wrapped around her like a shower curtain. They were thin enough that Ororo’s abundant curves could be seen through them, her ass most especially sticking out, shaking and shimmying with each thrust Sauron gave. It was nice, but nothing compared to the sight of Ororo in all her nude glory.
On the other hand, now that Sauron was inside her, Ororo had become much more talkative.
“OH FUCK!”
***
Ororo Monroe had no compunctions about lovemaking. She’d enjoyed many lovers since reaching the cusp of womanhood—but always on her own terms. She believed in being wooed, being charmed, being romanced. It was not that she put a high value on physicality. Indeed, it was because of the low value the Western world put on it that she was so ‘repressed’. A physical connection was nothing compared to the emotional and spiritual one she sought, and she would not indulge the former at the cost of the latter. She would rather put off any physical expression of love until a relationship had truly been built, body and soul.
“OH YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME, YOU DAMN MONSTER! FUCK ME WITH YOUR MONSTER COCK!”
And now, she could still not believe this was happening to her. It was like a dream—a nightmare. Being dominated, utterly possessed, by this cold, unfeeling brute! It was like one of her worst fears come to life!
“HARDER! FUCK ME HARDER! YOU HAVE TO FUCK ME HARDER!”
The only comfort was the thought of getting revenge. She’d make Sauron pay for this if it was the last thing she did. He couldn’t just use her with impunity. Once this was over, she’d hunt him down and give him what he had coming.
“HOLY SHIT, THAT’S GOOD! OH, YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER! YOU KNOW HOW GOOD IT IS!”
It was humiliating—traumatizing. Being made to feel this way by such a repulsive creature, and all while Jean watched too. Jean seeing every embarrassing moment of her debasement, her corruption, her violation. And with just the slightest use of her psychic powers, she could feel what Ororo was. The cold, scaly feel of the creature’s skin, the harder-than-human girth of its phallus as it raptured Ororo again and again, even the sleek leathery weight of the wings that closed in around Ororo like a cool blanket. She might not be able to look Jean in the eye after this.
“DON’T STOP! DON’T STOP! MAKE ME COME! I NEED IT! I NEED YOU! FUCK!”
She would need therapy, for sure. Perhaps medication. She might even need to leave the team to work out what was happening to her. Would she have nightmares about this? Every night recalling the sinister details of the assault on her, remembering each moment vividly, waking up screaming.
“YOU CALL THIS A FUCK? YOU EVIL, HIDEOUS BEAST! YOU HAVEN’T EVEN MADE ME COME YET! YOU HAVE NOT EVEN—OH! OOH! YESSS!”
This really was the kind of thing that could stay with her for the rest of her life.
***
For what seemed like a long time indeed, Logan just watched as Shanna smeared his cum all over her face, most of it getting worked done to her mouth, where she smacked her lips greedily on it. He’d worked up a good head of steam, and two cums were usually nothing for his eternally youthful body, but something about this frail made him weak in the knees. He had a feeling this would be it, so as much as he would’ve liked to make her sing a bit more for her supper, it was time for the main event.
He gave his cock a few last pumps, just so it’d be as hard as it could possibly be—he wanted this smug bitch to think she had a length of rebar up her hole. Shock and awe, all the way. Shanna watched his cock go in and out of his hand like she was expecting a magic trick; she licked her fingers clean.
“You want something?” he asked, his face contorted with vulgar lust. “Might wanna ask for it nicely. All sweet-like, too.”
Shanna took in a hard breath. “Fuck me. No more waiting. No more games. Fuck me now.”
“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”
“Please,” she said, her voice half desire and half loathing, hating him for making him beg but loving what she was begging for. Logan loved that voice. He got it from Jeannie sometimes. Never failed to make his cock hard.
“Please what?” he asked, though his cock was hard enough already.
“Please fuck my cunt!”
That did it. Logan grabbed her by her haunches, pulled her closer to him, and parted her legs like she was about to ride a horse. “Get ready for some Canadian bacon, girlie.”
Shanna shut her eyes, almost in fear. Then Logan came down on her. No preparation, no foreplay beyond him using her like a sex toy. He was hard as steel and he wanted her.
It was that exact thought that made Shanna so ready for him.
The first thing Shanna felt—distinctly felt—was the coarse black hair that covered his midsection, along with nearly all the rest of him. It bristled against her belly, became matted with the cum he’d sprayed there earlier. They stuck together a little, a pleasantly unpleasant sensation just before Logan dove into her cunt. Not slipped, not slid—he penetrated her. Shanna vibrated with the familiar electricity; he wasn’t as big as Colossus, Shanna wasn’t sure anyone was, but she wanted it more now and so it felt even better. She cried out louder than she would at a dinosaur’s claws, feeling him thrust into her even more madly than he had into her tits. He’d been anticipating this too.
His berserk rutting was so intense that it actually hurt a little; a new sensation for Shanna. Not the pain, but pain that felt good. It felt like she was being split in two, and as much as it hurt, she liked it.
She was so statuesque and he was so stocky that by hunching over only a little, he was at eye level with her breasts. Mouth level. For a moment, he just let them jerk about his face with the motion of his fucking, liking the way they filled his nostrils with Shanna’s sweaty scent and his own faded musk—the smell of ownership. But his natural urge to claim, to mark and dominate, had reached its apex. With a growl in the back of his throat, he clamped his teeth down on her left breast and held it in his jaws. Shanna gasped breathily for every moment he held it in his teeth.
At first he only kept it still; her jiggling breast trying to tear itself away from Logan’s grip twinged in a way Shanna liked. Then he bit down, his sharp canines digging into the meat of Shanna’s tit. The pressure was painful enough. Then he opened his mouth just long enough to snap his teeth back down, hard enough to draw the slightest trace of blood—a sharp, dizzying pain.
This Shanna enjoyed. And all the while his hips bucked hard into her, short quick stabs that felt like he was kindling a fire within her. It was violent, primitive, savage. And this too Shanna enjoyed.
She started to cry out. “Please, please!” A symbol of her surrender, her enjoyment. Her legs wrapped around Logan, bodily telling him the same thing. But it was her fierce pride that made her dig her nails into his shoulders and bloodily rake them down the flesh of his back. He had to realize that though she was surrendered to him now, it would not always be so.
His reaction was immediate and petulant. He grabbed her hands, now dug into his hairy ass, and wrestled them up over her head, pinning them down in her cum-clotted hair. The two outside claws on either three-piece set slotted out of their spaces between his knuckles. He staked them into the ground with Shanna’s wrists between them, pinning Shanna’s arms down. “Sorry, darlin’. Only one of us gets ta draw blood this time.” And he laved his rough tongue over the faint marks of blood on her bitten breast.
His words, his hold on her, sent hot lava coursing through her veins, lightning through her bones. She was more aware than ever of his cock’s mad motion in her cunt, his balls twitching with release against her ass. His seed was demanding to escape. The only place to go was deep inside her.
“Come for me,” she commanded, or begged, it didn’t matter. “Give me your seed. Give me your child. Fill my womb with it!”
He growled hard around the weight of her breast in his mouth, the animal in him eagerly reciprocating her offer. Her legs tightened around him to a point that would break a normal man in half, trying to keep his cock within her and failing as he broke her grip each time and pistoned back fiercely to fulfill her body’s demand. The hair on his chest madly teased her electric skin, his teeth worried at her nipple like a dog with a bone, she arched her back to take him even deeper inside. They fucked with all the strength in their superhuman bodies, all the brutality in their savage natures.
“Make me a mother,” Shanna panted in Logan’s ear, her bold voice stolen away by the impossible pleasure she was feeling. “I want my breasts to swell with milk. I want life to grow inside me. Use me as much as you like. Come in me all you want. Don’t stop until I’m pregnant. Breed me, you fucking animal. Breed me!”
Logan was almost there, her words speaking directly to the most primitive side of him. He was so close he felt like his cock would burst. His coming orgasm was gripping him tightly, paralyzing belly, thighs, cock and balls. He was all tensed up, ecstatically suspended in those long seconds before climax, body primed for the pleasure to come. His cock was still, buried to the balls in Shanna, all of it locked in her wetly clutching need.
Just one more thrust, then he’d be givin’ her all the cum she’d ever need. The only thing that stopped him was a lightning-fast thought; a voice that sounded a lot like Cyclops shouting one of his dinky orders, the kind that annoyingly ended up being dead-on.
Kids? With some jungle floozy he barely knew? And kids? What if he had a daughter who ended up as a prostitute? Or a son who wound up bisexual? He didn’t need that shit in his life. It’d cut into time he could put into beer and cigars.
Shanna protested for the first time that night as Logan pulled out of her. She bared her teeth in rage, she hissed in disappointment, her hips flapped wildly against the restraining weight Logan placed on them, her juices now flowing freely from her cunt. With Logan’s claws extended, she couldn’t move her hands no matter how hard the muscles of her arms flexed. Logan had to grin at the irony. Blondie was well and truly fucked. She whimpered, gyrating herself to try to get him back inside her, left an instant away from orgasm, fucking herself on nothing.
“No, no!” she screamed in frustration. Logan admitted to himself that he had some issues as that set him off, a gorgeous throbbing burst to clean out his congested tubes. Shanna was a passive receptive to him, the dazed woman powerless to stop him as he came. His cock seemed to recoil, maybe just in comparison to the foot-long jet of cum that shot from him and splattered across Shanna’s left breast. It hung there for a moment like a white brand before splitting into several streams flowing down the tantalizing slope of her cleavage. He just had to look at that bit of her painted white and his orgasm kept going and going.
Seemed like he had a gallon of jizz packed away somewhere, just waiting to be dumped all over some lucky broad. He shot it all out of him till he tapered, then gave his junk a shake so the last drops dripped onto her. One spray went high, into the hollow of her neck before it ran down her tits. Another soaked both teats, forming a rope that dangled between her nipples long enough that Logan could’ve taken a picture if he’d had a camera with him. Shame he’d only be able to take a mental Polaroid with him. His memory wasn’t the best.
He came longer and more powerfully than ever before, as if his balls were producing new sperm even as the old was pumped out. As if her breasts were drawing his spunk out of him. He gushed over her chin and neck, letting Shanna feel it running down her cleavage, and she squeezed her thighs together trying to give herself the same pleasure. But the only comfort to be had was his jizz splattering on her tits like boiling oil from his shuddering shaft. It excited her more than ever. She felt like she was taking a bath in his hot cum.
Logan’s balls drained off slowly and lavishly. His body sagged, but his cock remained indefatigable. It shot as strong as ever, only pointed now directly at her breasts by his sagging body. He fired over her nipples, onto the upper curves of her breasts, into the valley between them. Soon the jets of white were running together, pooling in a river than ran down her stomach as well like melting candle wax.
Shanna was quick to accept the untenable situation. If she couldn’t have him in her cunt, she wanted him elsewhere. Where he’d taste the best. She tilted her head toward him. “More. In my mouth,” she bargained, then opened her mouth and closed her eyes to wait passively.
Logan’s cock was beginning to flag, dribbling cum into Shanna’s belly button more than anything else. He ripped his claws from the ground, retracting them even as he grabbed Shanna’s head in his hands and brought his phallus to her gaping mouth. The heat and hunger of that yearning hole brought him back to life. He had one last spurt that felt like a cum all by itself, and he reveled in it for eternal seconds—the jerking, the clearing—he even could’ve sworn he felt his oily semen being swept down his throat and into her belly. He absolutely did feel it back up and wash over his cock, having overflowed Shanna’s mouth to the point of escaping those sweet lips. She tried to swallow and keep her mouth open at the same time, half-gagging, but that wasn’t Logan’s problem. He just glowed with the good feeling of being emptied, drained to the dregs to leave a frothing mess pretty much from Shanna’ s nose on down.
Logan sank back, his balls slack, his prick still tense but hanging down by his thigh. He was done. Could’ve done more if he felt it, but honestly, he’d cum on Shanna so much that it’d be like making it with Frosty the Snowman. He let his cock sway a little, semi-stiff, Shanna watching it hungrily until it finally went limp.
Girl didn’t give up easily, he’d give her that. She arched that strong back and thrust those big tits out, so glazed with cum that they could’ve been cakes, and the first thing she did with her freed hands was work his jism into her globes. Grinned appealingly as she ran her finger over an engorged nipple, scooping up the cum that hung off it, and sucked it off her fingertip like it was a little cock. Then she cupped her hands under her tits, webbing her fingers with spunk, and held them up and out, like she was offering them up as a target for Logan. She stared into his eyes, then gazed down in amazement at the literal shower of cum that was slithering down her breasts—then her eyes went anxiously to his cock, wanting more. The both of them hypnotized by her dripping, glistening breasts.
“So much seed. Your seed all over my breasts,” she breathed, licking at her painted cleavage daintily—
And that did send a throb through Logan, but hell, he was feeling contrary. Grabbing his costume to throw on right over his own cum-splattered body—it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to smelling funny—he gave her his most feral smile. "Good thing you're in a bathhouse, sweetheart."
***
Jean was Ororo, being taken and hating it and loving it, and she was Sauron, doing the taking, and then she was just their orgasm… Sauron screeching out his release like a true predator letting out a hunting cry, his phallus roaring into Ororo’s wet sex with spurts of white so extreme that they flooded out of her pussy and covered his own manhood like whipped cream.
Jean was both—a Mobius strip that included Ororo feeling the spasm within her, the heady sensation of being filled up and then overflowing, Sauron in near-perpetual climax as he simply came and came and came, till it had dripped back down to his balls and dropped to the ground beneath them. His call died down shrilly and the overpowering silver light faded from his eyes, leaving them a surprisingly human blue.
“Oh God,” Karl Lykos cried, suddenly finding himself imprisoned in his alter-ego’s fell body, “what have I done?”
He opened his arms and Ororo fell out, spilling onto the ground, her breasts jogging, her thighs inundated with his seed. She groaned weakly—the sunbaked ground overwarm after she’d grown used to being skin to skin with his cold-blooded flesh.
“I’m sorry!” he screamed, flapping his wings to take flight, not able to bear the accusing vindictiveness of the woman’s eyes that he knew was coming. “I’m so sorry!”
He disappeared up into the sky, scattering a flight of smaller flying lizards—in seconds, he disappeared as if rejoining a primal world, fitting it like a missing puzzle piece.
Ororo sneered after him. If he was really sorry, he would’ve stayed until she’d had her orgasm.
She was considering finishing herself off, but on a second thought, was wary of touching the mass of ejaculate that Sauron had left all over her lower body. In fact, she was wondering if a dinosaur could get her pregnant when Jean emerged from the lake, naked of course, hair a dark blood-red from the same water that dripped off every inch of her perfect body. Was it any wonder that Ororo didn’t resist or even question as Jean strutted up to her, fell to her knees before her, and parted Ororo’s trembling legs?
“Let’s clean you up a little,” she said, and fell between Ororo’s literally creamy thighs to lick every inch of them clean.
Nearby, Zar hid as best he could in the bushes. To think, he had hated the thought of being tasked with delivering the women’s clothes when all the village girls were occupied with preparing for the feast. Now, he was witnessing a sight almost more erotic than seeing Shanna bared.
This completely made up for the time he'd happened upon Doc in that lagoon.
***
Afterward—long minutes later—Ororo relaxed into the pillowy soft grass and let the sun warm and dry her, Jean doing the same at her side. She had a hard time believing how equally and how differently she had enjoyed the two sexual acts that had happened in the past hour—far more sex than she’d had in months. She had liked the rough, almost violent submission of her body to Sauron—as large a trespass as she had found it, much like her humiliating escape from Emma’s trap, she had to admit that it had been shockingly pleasurable. No expectations, no ‘spiritual connection’, just their bodies meeting. Not even a pretty body, in his case. But as ugly and alien as it objectively was, it had caused her a very great deal of pleasure.
As had the later action with Jean. As much as Jean had changed, theirs was still an old friendship, and she had greatly enjoyed the lovemaking that built on that foundation of sisterhood and companionship. It had been intimate, joyous, and though Ororo guessed Jean would’ve liked it to have some of the savagery of her encounter with Sauron, the redhead had put Ororo first and given her the perfect pleasing antidote to the orgasmic brutality of earlier.
Now, with some regret, her mind was free to fixate on something other than her own ecstasy.
“Jean,” she asked gently, trying her best not to cast any judgment. “Why did you simply sit and watch while that creature had me? You could’ve stopped him with a thought.”
“You needed it,” Jean said simply. “If the only way for my friend to relax and get a good fuck is for Mr. Jurassic Park to violate her, then that’s what’ll happen. Besides, it made for a good show.”
“You… enjoyed watching it?” Despite the confessions she’d made to herself, Ororo was still a bit aghast.
“You enjoyed feeling it,” Jean replied. “And we both enjoyed tasting it.”
Ororo flushed at the memory of Jean kissing her after that first cleansing pass with her tongue—sharing the taste of Sauron and, later, her own. Even so… “I’m going to have to tell Scott about this. I’m sorry, but you’re practically engaged.”
Jean nodded, almost to herself. “I know you will. It’s alright. I would consider that a true act of friendship.” She stared up at the sun and did not blink. “It’s so hard for me to talk to him now. He’s so… small.”
“And I’m not?” Ororo asked, rushing to the defense of her other friend.
“You at least know what it feels like. You’ve thought of yourself that way. You’ve answered to that name.”
“What name?”
“Goddess.” Jean smiled at Ororo. For the first time, Ororo thought there was something frightening in that lovely perfection. Something missing. “Zar!” Jean called out. “Bring us our clothes already! It’ll be cold soon, and we can’t go naked forever!” She smiled at Ororo once more, one last grin. “Goddess or no, we’re still ladies. We must hold something back.”
Zar came out of the bush, heating with embarrassment, the village seamstresses’ work slung over his shoulders. Ororo scowled as he neared.
“He was watching us the whole time?”
Jean kissed Ororo’s cheek. “It was a spectacle.”
***
Shanna didn’t know why she cried. She had faced far worse situations than being left high-strung and frustrated while covered in a stranger’s cum. Her resolve had never faltered then. But being rejected so many times in a single day seemed to twist her world around. She knew she was sexually attractive, and ideally suited for survival in the Savage Land. Why did so many not want to breed with her, preferring instead all manner of strange copulations? She had always known she was different from both soldiers and Fall People, but was she so different that none would have her as the mother of their child? Was she, in the end, just some kind of freak?
“There you are,” Zar said, entering the bathhouse, heedless of the fact that Shanna might be nude, given the location. It simply didn’t occur to him. Nor, for obvious reasons, did he think he would find Shanna dripping with cum, front and back. But that didn’t surprise him nearly as much as her tears. “What’s wrong?”
She stared at him. She would not have cared if he saw her covered in mud, or gore, or leeches even, but him seeing her red-eyed like this made her feel even more freakish. “He didn’t make me come,” she said, with a hitch in her voice that had never been there before. “Why can’t anyone make me come? If they won’t give me a baby, they could at least make me come…”
Zar knew what to do. He had seen exactly how the outsider Ororo did it for the outsider Jean. Going to Shanna with long, confident strides, he fell to his knees, parted her legs with his hands, and tasted her for himself.
Shanna soon stopped crying.
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The Savage Land Imbroglio