Doctor strange: The multiverse Breeder 1

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FOR FUN AND DOESN'T REPRESENT REAL LIFE. ENJOY THE STORY, YAH WHO WANT TO GO TO SEX PART READ FROM LAST PARAGRAPHS.

The Sanctum Sanctorum in New York was unusually quiet that afternoon. Golden sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the ancient wooden floors. Doctor Stephen Strange floated cross-legged three feet above the ground in the grand library, his red Cloak of Levitation gently rippling behind him like a living cape. He wore his signature deep blue tunic and pants beneath the intricate patterned robe, the Eye of Agamotto resting against his chest. A thick, floating tome hovered in front of him as he flipped pages with a lazy flick of his finger.

Wong entered from the side door, adjusting the cuffs of his dark red and gold-trimmed robes. He looked as impeccably put-together as always—practical, no-nonsense, with that faint air of perpetual mild disapproval.

"Strange," Wong said, clearing his throat.

"Hmm?" Strange didn't look up, still absorbed in the text.

"I need two hundred dollars."

Strange finally glanced over, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "Two hundred? Did the Ancient One's ghost start a GoFundMe for enlightenment?"

Wong crossed his arms. "It's for supplies. The protective wards on the third floor need recalibrating, and the last batch of dragon-scale incense burned out faster than your patience during traffic. Plus, I want decent dumplings from that place on Mott Street. The good ones. Not the ones you conjure that taste like regret."

Strange smirked, lowering himself gracefully to the floor. "You know, for the Sorcerer Supreme's right-hand man, you have suspiciously specific cravings. Are you sure this isn't a date?"

"If it were a date, I'd be asking you for money," Wong shot back dryly. "And I'd have better taste."

Strange chuckled, reaching into a small dimensional pocket and pulling out a crisp stack of bills. He handed them over with a theatrical flourish. "Here. Buy yourself something nice. Maybe a sense of humor while you're at it. And tell Mrs. Chen I said hello. I know you two have been exchanging looks."

Wong pocketed the money with a long-suffering sigh. "One day I'll let a demon eat you just to get some peace and quiet. I'm heading out now. I'll be back late—possibly very late if the line is long."

"Very late? Should I be worried you're finally eloping?" Strange teased, already rising back into the air, book in hand again.

"Only if she asks nicely," Wong muttered as he walked out, the heavy Sanctum door closing behind him with a resonant thud.

Strange grinned to himself and resumed his flight through the library halls, levitating smoothly between towering shelves while reading. The Cloak adjusted itself occasionally to help him dodge low-hanging lanterns. "Let's see... trans-dimensional resonance patterns... fascinating."

He was deep into a chapter on multiversal bleed when reality tore open.

A bright, jagged star-shaped portal ripped into existence in the middle of the main library hall. Books flew off shelves as wind howled through. A young woman was violently hurled out of it, tumbling across the floor with a pained grunt.

America Chavez.

She looked rough—her red-and-blue jacket torn at the shoulder, jeans scuffed and dirty, a few shallow cuts bleeding on her arms and cheek. Her dark hair was messy, and she was breathing hard. She scrambled up immediately, spinning toward the still-open portal.

"Close, damn it!" she growled, thrusting her hands forward. Another star portal began forming in her palms, but thick, slimy black tentacles shot out from the original rift, wrapping around her wrists and waist, yanking her back.

America gritted her teeth, kicking at them. "Let... go... you ugly cosmic squid!"

Strange descended quickly, cloak flaring dramatically. "Need help?" he called out, voice calm but laced with that signature arrogance.

America shot him a frustrated glare over her shoulder. "What do you think, wizard? I'm here for the tea party?"

"Point taken." Strange's hands moved in precise, glowing patterns. Two spinning golden disks—conjured from pure magical energy—materialized and shot forward like deadly chakrams. They sliced through the tentacles with surgical precision, green ichor spraying across the floor. The severed limbs writhed before dissolving into sparks.

America shoved the remaining tendrils off and slammed her star portal shut just as more tentacles tried to emerge. The big rift collapsed with a thunderous *crack*.

The library was now a disaster zone. Books scattered everywhere, shelves knocked over, ancient artifacts trembling on their pedestals.

Strange sighed. "I just organized this place last week." He raised the Eye of Agamotto, its green light flaring. Time briefly reversed in a controlled bubble around the room—books flew back to their places, shelves righted themselves, and the ichor disappeared. Everything settled back into pristine order within seconds.

He turned to America, who was still catching her breath. With a small gesture, he summoned a soft blanket from another room and draped it around her shoulders. Then he waved his hand again, conjuring a steaming cup of chamomile tea with a touch of honey.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Drink. And sit before you fall over. What's up, Chavez?"

America took the tea gratefully, wincing as she sat on one of the restored chairs. She blew on it, then took a sip. "Thanks, Strange. I... I didn't know where else to go. The multiverse is in danger. Like, *seriously* in danger. Some weird phenomenon is ripping through universes—reality is glitching, dimensions overlapping in ways they shouldn't. Whole planets are phasing in and out. I barely punched my way out of one before it tried to eat me."

Strange's expression grew serious, though a hint of his dry humor remained. "Define 'weird phenomenon.' Last time someone said that, I fought a giant spaghetti monster with anger issues."

America managed a weak laugh but shook her head. "This feels bigger. Darker. Like something is *hunting* across realities..."

---

America took another sip of tea, her fingers tightening around the warm cup. The blanket was still draped over her shoulders, but her eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion.

“I’ve been jumping non-stop for days,” she continued. “I figured out how to track the pattern. There’s this... wave moving through the multiverse. It’s not random. I can lock onto the next universe that’s about to get hit. But every time I get there...” She looked down. “I’ve watched six universes collapse already. Whole civilizations gone. I punch portals, I scream for people to run, but it’s too fast. Like reality itself is being erased.”

Strange leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, listening intently. His expression was serious now, the usual sarcasm dialed back. “And you think whatever is causing this followed you here?”

“Pretty sure,” she replied with a weak smirk. “Lucky you.”

Suddenly, a small device on her wrist beeped urgently — a modified wristwatch glowing with star-shaped runes.

“Shit. Another one. Thirty minutes until collapse.” America stood up quickly, but her face twisted in pain as she put weight on her right leg. She hissed, nearly collapsing. “Broken bone. Must’ve happened when that thing threw me out.”

Strange moved instantly. He waved his hand in a smooth arc, golden energy flowing from his fingers. The Eye of Agamotto pulsed once. America felt a warm rush through her body as bones knit together, cuts sealed, and bruises faded.

“Better?” he asked casually.

She flexed her leg, surprised. “Yeah... thanks, Strange. You’re not just all ego and cape tricks, huh?”

“High praise,” he said with a theatrical bow. “Now let’s go save a universe.”

America nodded, determination returning to her face. She punched the air, ripping open a bright star-shaped portal. “Stay close. These places can get weird.”

---

**Universe 47-B**

They stepped through into a neon-lit version of New York — but everything was upside down. Skyscrapers hung from the sky like stalactites, and gravity flipped randomly. People screamed as chunks of reality dissolved into glowing particles.

Strange immediately cast a stabilization spell, creating a small dome of protection around them. “We need to find the source!”

America punched another portal to evacuate a group of civilians, but the collapse accelerated. Buildings folded in on themselves like paper.

In the chaos, they encountered a massive green figure in sleek armor — Hulk, but completely different. This Hulk was calm, articulate, and surrounded by floating holographic interfaces.

“Fascinating,” the green genius said, scanning them. “Dimensional intruders. I am Dr. Banner, head of Stark-Hulk Dynamics.”

Strange raised an eyebrow. “Banner? You’re... not angry?”

“Anger is inefficient,” the genius Hulk replied. “Now, who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of my universe. Is there an Ancient One or anyone by the name Strange here?”

A sleek AI voice (Jarvis-like) responded from Banner’s suit: “Searching all databases... No records of any ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ titled Ancient One. No individual named Stephen Strange exists in this reality.”

Strange looked genuinely unsettled. “Of course I don’t...”

The universe ended before they could do more. The dome shattered, and America yanked them both through a desperate portal as the last lights blinked out.

---

**Universe 19-K**

The second jump brought them to a lush, jungle-covered Earth where magic and technology had merged. Dinosaurs with cybernetic enhancements roamed freely.

Here, they tried warning a council of leaders, but no one recognized Strange. When he asked about the local Sorcerer Supreme, a lizard-like shaman laughed. “Such a title has never existed. Magic is wild here, not controlled by one man.”

They fought shadowy tendrils similar to the ones that attacked America earlier, but the collapse was merciless. Strange unleashed the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, buying them mere minutes. America saved a group of children by punching them to a safer nearby universe, but the original world crumbled behind them.

“Damn it!” America shouted as they escaped again. “Why can’t I ever be fast enough?”

---

**Universe 82-Q**

The third was the hardest. A peaceful, utopian world where everyone lived in harmony. Strange tried a massive containment spell using the Eye of Agamotto, reversing time locally for a whole city. For a moment, it worked.

But the phenomenon pushed back harder. Reality tore like wet paper. No one here knew him either. When he asked a helpful android assistant about the Sorcerer Supreme, the response was the same: “No matching records.”

They returned through the portal just as the final universe winked out of existence.

---

Back in the Sanctum Sanctorum, the star portal closed with a tired shimmer. Both of them were exhausted. Strange’s robes were singed at the edges, his hair messy. He collapsed into a large leather armchair, levitating it slightly so it swung gently back and forth as he rubbed his temples.

America sat on the edge of a heavy oak table, elbows on her knees, head buried in her hands. Her jacket was even more torn now, covered in dust from three dead realities.

“I told you,” she said quietly. “I can’t save them. No matter what I do.”

Strange didn’t reply immediately. He just kept swinging slowly in the chair, staring at the ceiling with a rare look of hopelessness mixed with frustration.

The front door opened. Wong stepped in carrying several bags, smelling faintly of fresh dumplings. He stopped short at the sight of the two disheveled figures.

“What happened?” Wong asked, his tone shifting from casual to alert. “And who is she?”

Strange stopped swinging the chair and sat up straighter. “Wong... meet America Chavez. She punches holes between universes. America, this is Wong — my... everything, really.”

America gave a tired wave. “Hey. Sorry about the mess earlier.”

**Part 3: Seeds of Realities**

Back in the Sanctum, Wong set his bags of food down and looked around the pristine library. “Mess? What mess? Everything looks good.”

America gave a tired chuckle from where she sat on the table. “Oh yeah, Strange reverted them. Time magic cleanup crew.”

Strange nodded from his armchair, still swinging gently. “She’s been jumping universes trying to stop a collapse wave. I’ve been playing multiversal tour guide. Not going well.”

America took a deep breath and explained everything again for Wong — the glitching realities, the black tendrils, the way entire universes were being erased. She mentioned her ability to track the next doomed location.

Strange turned to Wong, serious now. “Wong… does the Sorcerer Supreme exist in all universes?”

Wong frowned. “In most of them, yes. Some realities are left unprotected — places where Agamotto and the first Sorcerer Supreme never rose to power, or the line died out. Why are you asking?”

“Because in the three we just visited, there was no record of me. Or the Ancient One. Nothing.”

Wong’s face shifted from mild concern to genuine shock. He walked quickly to the restricted section of the library, his robes swishing. He pulled out an old, rusty-bound book that looked like it hadn’t been touched in centuries. Dust floated off as he opened it, flipping carefully through brittle pages.

After a few minutes of reading, Wong’s expression darkened. “This… has happened before. A cosmic anomaly that devours realities. The solution used by a past Sorcerer Supreme was… unorthodox. He traveled to the affected universes and ‘planted seeds.’ He had intercourse with certain key women — anchors of reality in those timelines. His DNA, his mystical signature, introduced stability. The destruction stopped shortly after.”

The room went quiet.

Strange stopped swinging the chair. “So you’re saying I need to go fuck around with women across the multiverse?”

Wong closed the book slowly. “The text is cryptic. It doesn’t specify details, and it could be metaphorical. But given the pattern you described…”

Before they could continue the uncomfortable conversation, America’s wrist device beeped loudly again.

“Thirty minutes,” she said, jumping up. “Another one. We have to try. Maybe this time we can save some people.”

She opened a star-shaped portal. Strange and America stepped through together.

---
Universe 616

They emerged into a familiar but slightly different version of New York. The sky was already turning ominous — dark patches spreading like ink in water. Cracks were beginning to form in reality itself.

Suddenly, two women rushed toward them — America’s mothers.

“America! Where have you been, daughter?” one of them called out, voice filled with relief and worry.

America froze completely. “No… that’s impossible. No other version of me should exist here. This is… this is *my* universe.”

She recognized them immediately. Panic set in. She desperately opened a portal for them. “Both of you, go through! Now! Get to safety!”

But her mothers tried to step through and bounced back as if hitting an invisible wall.

Strange stepped forward, scanning with the Eye of Agamotto. “It’s the Destiny Barrier. The universe is locking down its anchors. They can’t leave.”

The sky darkened further. Black cracks spider-webbed across it. Distant screams echoed as buildings began to phase out.

America’s face crumpled. She grabbed Strange’s hand and pulled him urgently toward her childhood home nearby — a modest apartment. Once inside her old room, she slammed the door.

“Strange, we don’t have time,” she said, voice shaking. “Let’s have sex. Until it worsens if we have to.”

Strange’s eyes widened. “America… are you sure this is the way? We barely understand what the book meant.”

She broke down, tears streaming as she hit his chest with her fists. “What else can we do? This is *my* universe! My parents! Everything I have left!”

He caught her wrists gently, pulling her into a hug. “Hey… breathe. We’ll figure this out.” He consoled her, stroking her back as the room trembled slightly from the growing anomaly outside. The dark patch in the sky was expanding rapidly, cracks glowing with destructive energy.

America pulled back, determination mixing with desperation. She pushed down her jeans and underwear in one hurried motion, kicking them aside. Her hands trembled as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a small bottle of body oil. She sat on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs, her breathing shaky.

“Please, Strange… I beg you,” she whispered, voice breaking. She poured some oil on her fingers and applied it carefully between her legs, preparing herself. “I’m ready.”

Strange hesitated for a long second, then slowly pulled down his pants. His thick, 8-inch cock sprang free, already hardening from the intense situation and her vulnerable display.

She looked at it, eyes wide. “Go slow… I’m a virgin.”

---

Strange stood there for a moment, his cloak settling calmly on his shoulders despite the chaos outside. The room trembled faintly as another crack split across the sky visible through the window. America sat on the edge of her childhood bed, legs spread, glistening from the oil she’d applied. Her eyes were filled with desperate hope and fear.

He stepped closer, cupping her face gently with both hands. “America… if we do this, it’s not just about saving the universe. I need you to be sure. Not just scared.”

She leaned into his touch, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m sure. I trust you, Strange. You’ve been the only one trying to help me through all this madness.”

He kissed her then — slow, deep, and surprisingly tender. His lips moved against hers with care, tasting the salt of her tears. America kissed him back hungrily at first, then softened, letting the moment become something more intimate. His hands slid down her sides, stroking her thighs soothingly as he eased her further onto the bed.

Strange climbed over her, careful not to put his full weight on her smaller frame. He kissed along her jaw, then down her neck, murmuring softly, “You’re incredibly brave, you know that? Punching holes through reality itself… and still fighting for everyone.”

America shivered under his touch, her hands gripping his arms. “Just… go slow. Please.”

He nodded, positioning himself between her spread legs. His thick, 8-inch cock rested against her slick, oiled entrance. He rubbed the head up and down gently, coating himself, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. America’s breathing grew heavier, a mix of nervousness and building arousal.

“Relax,” he whispered, kissing her again as he began to push in — very slowly. Just the head at first. She gasped sharply, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Ahh… it’s big,” she breathed, eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“Easy. Breathe with me.” Strange stayed still, letting her adjust, one hand gently stroking her hair while the other caressed her hip. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, their tongues sliding together in a slow rhythm that helped distract from the stretch.

After a few moments, America nodded. “More…”

He pushed in another inch, then another, groaning softly at how tight and warm she felt around him. “You feel incredible,” he murmured against her lips. “So strong… yet so soft right now.”

The emotional weight hung between them — this wasn’t just lust. It was connection born from shared desperation, respect, and the strange intimacy of trying to save an entire reality together. Strange moved with deliberate care, rocking gently, giving her time with every shallow thrust until he was finally buried to the hilt.

America let out a long, shaky moan, her legs wrapping around his waist. “Stephen… move.”

He began a slow, steady rhythm — deep but gentle strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. The bed creaked softly beneath them. America’s hands roamed his back, under his robes, feeling the muscles there as pleasure gradually overtook the initial discomfort.

Outside, the black patches in the sky seemed to hesitate, the cracks slowing their spread.

Strange picked up the pace slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot that made her cry out in pleasure. “That’s it,” he encouraged softly, voice husky. “Let go, America. I’ve got you.”

Their bodies moved together in a building rhythm — skin against skin, breaths mingling, soft moans filling the small room. He reached between them, rubbing her clit with his thumb in gentle circles. America arched, gasping his name like a prayer.

The romance deepened in the quiet words between thrusts: “You’re not alone anymore,” he told her. “Not in this fight.”

Tears of overwhelming emotion mixed with pleasure as she pulled him down for another passionate kiss. The pleasure coiled tighter inside her. Strange’s thrusts grew deeper, more urgent but still controlled, his own breathing ragged.

“I’m close,” America whimpered, her walls starting to flutter around his thick cock.

“Come for me,” he groaned, thrusting firmly.

She shattered first — crying out loudly as her orgasm hit hard, body trembling beneath him, inner muscles clenching rhythmically. The intensity pushed Strange over the edge seconds later. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself to the hilt and climaxed outside, pulling out at the last moment and spilling thick ropes of cum across her stomach and thighs, his cock pulsing against her skin.

At that exact moment, something shifted.

The dark patches in the sky outside began to shrink. The glowing cracks in reality sealed with soft golden sparks — not fully disappearing, but stabilizing. The destructive energy that had been devouring the universe seemed to pause, then slowly recede as if a new anchor had taken root.

America stared at the window, eyes wide with disbelief and relief. “It… it’s working. The sky… it’s clearing a little.”

Strange collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, both of them breathing heavily and covered in sweat. He grabbed a towel from nearby and gently cleaned her stomach. “The book wasn’t lying. My presence… my essence here… it’s countering the anomaly.”

She curled against his chest, still trembling from the intensity. “Thank you, Stephen. For believing me. For doing this.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We’re not done yet. This might only slow it down. But it’s a start.”

---

They returned through America’s star portal, stepping back into the quiet warmth of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Both were still flushed and disheveled — Strange’s robes slightly rumpled, America adjusting her jacket with a shy but determined expression.

Wong was waiting, arms crossed, sipping tea like nothing had happened.

“So,” Wong said dryly, eyeing them both. “You two look like you just saved a universe the old-fashioned way. Should I disinfect the library floor, or did you at least use protection across dimensions?”

Strange cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual dramatic composure. “It worked, Wong. The book was right. My… mystical essence anchored her universe. The collapse slowed significantly.”

America nodded, cheeks still pink. “Yeah. It was… intense. But it bought us time.”

Wong raised an eyebrow, deadpan as ever. “Intense. That’s one word for it. I leave for dumplings and return to find my colleague has become a multiversal sperm donor. Marvelous. The Ancient One would be so proud. Or horrified. Probably both.”

Strange smirked despite himself. “Save the commentary. We need a plan. America can track the next targets. We’ll have to do this… methodically. Find the key women in each reality — anchors — and stabilize them before the wave hits.”

America looked between them. “You mean you’re actually willing to keep doing this? With different women?”

Strange met her gaze, a flicker of something softer passing between them. “If it saves lives… yes. But we do it together. No more solo jumps.”

Wong sighed heavily. “I’ll prepare extra towels and stronger wards. Try not to bring back any angry multiversal husbands.”

---

Their next jump came faster than expected.

America’s watch beeped. “Universe 616-W. We’ve only got ten minutes before full collapse.”

They stepped through the portal into a crumbling version of Westview — but twisted. The sky was already fracturing, houses flickering in and out of existence.

Scarlet Witch — Wanda Maximoff — stood at the center of it all, chaos magic swirling around her in red tendrils. She looked wild, grief-stricken, and powerful. This variant clearly didn’t recognize them.

“Who are you?!” Wanda demanded, eyes glowing crimson. “You will not take what’s left of my world!”

“Wanda, wait—!” Strange started, but she attacked instantly.

The fight was epic and brutal.

Wanda hurled a wave of scarlet energy that Strange barely blocked with a shimmering shield of golden runes. He countered with the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, trying to bind her, but she shattered them with a scream of rage, sending him crashing through a house.

America punched star portals to dodge blasts, trying to reach civilians, but Wanda’s chaos magic warped reality around them — turning streets into illusions of her lost children calling out.

“Enough!” Strange roared, levitating high and summoning two massive spinning disks. He hurled them at Wanda while channeling the Winds of Watoomb to pull her off balance.

Wanda responded by creating duplicates of herself — each firing hex bolts. One caught Strange in the side, sending sharp pain through his ribs. He retaliated with the Eye of Agamotto, freezing time around her for a split second — just enough to close the distance and grab her wrists.

For a moment they were face to face, magic clashing violently.

“You don’t understand!” Wanda shouted. “I lost everything!”

“I do understand,” Strange growled. “But this isn’t the way—”

Before he could finish, the sky tore open completely. Massive black tentacles — thicker and more monstrous than before — erupted from the void, smashing through buildings. One giant squid-like appendage slammed down, devouring entire blocks in swirling darkness.

Time was up.

Wanda’s eyes widened in horror as a tentacle wrapped around her. She was seconds from being pulled into oblivion.

With her last strength, she looked at Strange. Recognition seemed to flicker for a brief moment — perhaps a multiversal echo.

“I’m… sorry,” she gasped, voice breaking. “Sorry for not obeying you… for everything in my madness…”

She thrust her hands forward. A massive surge of scarlet chaos magic poured into Strange — raw, powerful energy flooding his body and the Eye of Agamotto. It burned like fire but carried the essence of her power.

Then the tentacle yanked her away. Wanda vanished into the devouring darkness as the entire universe collapsed around them.

America screamed and ripped open a desperate escape portal. Strange, now glowing with combined magic, dove through with her just as the last light of that reality winked out.

---

They stumbled back into the Sanctum, breathing hard. Strange’s body crackled with residual scarlet energy.

Wong rushed over. “What happened? You both look like you fought God and lost.”

America slumped against a table. “Wanda’s universe… it’s gone. But she gave him her power before the end.”

Strange flexed his hands, feeling the new chaotic magic humming inside him. “We’re running out of time. The wave is accelerating. We need to find the next anchor — fast.”

He looked at America, the weight of what they were doing settling heavily between them.

---