X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 9: Chickens and eggs
Training was pointless.
"We're going to test the limits of your synthesis
powers. Just create white cotton towels in a pile, right on that spot."
I created towel after towel, until it got hard to do any
more.
"Can you create any more?"
I tried. "Maybe a washcloth." I created that and
added it to the pile.
"Okay, we have ten point seven pounds. We'll measure
surface area and fiber count in a bit – maybe those are the limitation. Okay,
blue towels next."
What was the point? "Nothing. I'm out."
"Socks, shirts, shoelaces."
"No, I'm dry for now." But I'll create as many
towels as you want, just make it so that he isn't my brother. I want my old
life back. I want to be a man. I want to be *me* again. But I'll be Rogue, I
promise, if you just don't make him my *brother*.
"Okay. Professor X thinks you should be able to
synthesize wood and bone and other organic materials, too. Let's try some of
those."
I shook my head. "I'm empty. Let's try again in a few
minutes."
*****
"You don't look so good," Dr. McTaggart made the
mistake of saying.
"Well what do you expect? In one fell swoop I discover
that I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine, I can't get back into my own body,
Rogue doesn't want her memories to come back here! This is all just PEACHY
KEEN."
"It seems to me that you made out okay on the deal.
You have a whole new life ahead of you."
"But it isn't MY life, is it? Not only am I a mutant
freak, but I'm turning into a girl! An ugly, boney, sharp-faced scarecrow of a
girl! I get to enjoy being verbally abused by perverts, molested by every boy
with overactive hormones, periods every month until I'm old, babies, pregnancy,
all because I'm expected to become a stupid girl! Well I'm not going along
with the plan, okay?"
"I'm not asking you to become a girl today. I'm just
asking you to sculpt your neck to look a little more elegant and aesthetic.
Something like this." She swung the flatscreen around so I could see the display.
"See? It makes you look more thoughtful and artistic."
"Yes, fine. Whatever. It's not as if I don't know the
plan: chip away at me a bit at a time until you finally end up with the
scarecrow."
"Rogue, you're not a 'scarecrow.' And we're sticking
to changes you're ready for. Subtle things that your classmates shouldn't
notice."
"Yeah, okay." I looked at her earnestly. "Look,
I know I'm being hard on you. I'll let you do the whole thing – one big shot.
Make me into Rogue. I'll accept the job, I'll be her permanently. Just…just
don't make him my brother. There must be some way you can do that!"
"No, I'm sorry. If it's any help, I was as surprised
as you were. Charles had told me that Rogue was raised by a woman named Irene
–"
"Irene?" I gave a bitter laugh, trying to
remember the conversation. "Yeah, that figures. It sounds like Irene was
her best friend. I guess she got rid of all her children, didn't she?
Friends, farmers, whoever would take us."
"Rogue, I'm sure it wasn't like that."
"No, of course not. MY parents were decent and
loving. They've also been in the ground for forty years. I can see why Rogue
was so eager to abandon this life. It must have been a relief for her."
"Dr. Trautwein! The original Rogue had feelings of
abandonment – you *don't*. I don't see why you'd want to develop them, either."
I nodded to her, ignoring the argument. "You might as
well finish up. I have things to do."
"If that's the way it has to be." She spoke the
post-hypnotic trigger word. "Long, graceful neck: just like Rogue. Just
like normal. One step closer to home, girl."
*****
School on Monday was as boring as ever. At least I could
have lunch with Todd and Freddy.
"So, not that I'm complaining or anything," Todd
said, "but why are you over here with us, instead of with the prep-squad
X-dorks?"
"Well just look at them." Scott was tall and
athletic, well groomed and happy. He had a beautiful cheerleader practically
hanging on his arm. Jean, even worse, was smart, popular, had a perfect
figure, and had probably never had a pimple in her entire life. "Sometimes,"
I said, "I just don't feel like being too close to the popular crowd, you
know?"
"Oh, yeah, I hear you," Todd said, eyeing a fly
buzzing lazily overhead.
"I just feel like causing trouble."
"Sure," Freddy said. "I've definitely been
there. I know that feeling."
"We could put some rocks through windows," Toad
offered. "That's always a laugh. 'Specially with this freeze going on."
"Naw. I don't want to actually *hurt* anyone. Well…no
one that doesn't deserve it. Do you know anyone who deserves to get beaten up?"
"Duncan Mathews?" Freddy offered.
"I don't think so. Too high profile. Too many
friends. I'd like to be able to come back to school."
"Tony Amoretti?"
"No, I got him the other day."
"Hey, if you don't mind making a dangerous enemy, how's
about Slick Rick?"
Freddy shrugged. "Don't know him."
Todd nodded to himself. "Yeah, he dropped out last
year. Now he just hangs out over by the old coal silo. People say he's
dealing. Rumor is that he's real fond of his knife. Your, you know, powers –
they give you any special protection against getting cut?"
I smiled. "I don't think so. Right now, I don't
really care." So I got Rogue's body cut up a little. She'd told me that
it was mine now. *She* sure didn't seem to want it back.
"You're going to need some muscle to back up your plan,
whatever it is."
I put my hand on his massive arm. "Freddy, you *are*
the plan. Me, I think I'll serve as bait. Then, when I call, you can save my
butt. Sound good?"
He obviously liked it. I don't think anyone had ever given
him a chance to be the hero before. I didn't quite understand why. He was as
strong as a bulldozer, and damn near invulnerable. But maybe he just didn't
have the sharply defined jawline that people expected in a hero.
"Yeah," he said, "it sounds *real* good."
I spent most of the rest of my classes thinking about how to
keep from getting sliced open by a knife man. My biology studies came in handy
as I recalled one of the best natural armors ever evolved: chiton. Alternating
layers of calcium and a biological plastic made it light, tough, hard,
flexible, and incredibly tough. I experimented, materializing a coin-sized
piece in my hands during class. I pictured the inside of a abalone and created
the disk. Sure enough, it was very hard and really tough. Now, how to armor
myself?
First, I pictured little pockets along the inside of my
sleeve, holding little rectangles of the stuff. But once I tried that and then
looked at my clothes, it was obvious that I was wearing a chain-mail shirt.
That thought then inspired me. Today's involuntary underwear was a classic
bikini-bottom and matching top. What could be better for the fantasy princess
(ugg!) than a chain mail bikini? Best of all, since the lingerie was held
close to my skin, my baggy clothes would disguise it. Somehow, the idea of
armored lingerie made me feel particularly feisty.
I continued to fiddle with the design throughout class. I
was wearing the trench coat again today, and between that and my baggy
clothing, the items next to my skin shifted and altered as I experimented with
various armor designs. I fiddled until I wore myself out, waited a few
minutes, then fiddled some more. By the time I was satisfied, I had expanded
considerably on the chain mail bikini of my original design. Next to my skin,
all over, I wore silk. I had read somewhere about silk being strong and nearly
bulletproof. My bikini top and panties were solid pieces of thin chiton
modeled after lobster shell. This was layered like overlapping scales and
embedded in a single, solid piece of hardened leather. Bra top, panties,
boots, and arm guards were all formed rigidly in place and perfectly molded to
my body. Without me to "evaporate" them off, you'd need to cut them
away. I tried making something closer to a gladiator-style chest plate, but
something inside me just balked at the design. It didn't have the right "feel",
so despite my internal protests of masculinity, I was wearing an armored bikini
underneath my normal male clothes.
For the rest of my body I had a lighter mesh of
leather/chiton hexagons. They were tiny little things, like scales, bound
together in a silk weave. It took me a while to work out the pattern, but I
practiced forming it as a glove until I could get something flexible but
protective. I formed a large shark's tooth in my other hand and used it to
test my scale armor, trying to poke through the tough mesh.
Wrapped up in my armor and scale suit, there was nothing
different to show on the outside. I felt like one tough chick. I realized
that and it bothered me. Why in the world should I ever want to feel like a
tough *chick*? A part of me was whispering that I was one bad-ass bitch (a
term that I had been overhearing in the school). Instead of denying these
feelings, I tried a new tack. I tried to convince myself that being a tough
*guy* was even better. Being a mean *bastard* made me more powerful and threatening.
I let the world fade, and spun fantasies in my mind where I swaggered over to
the greasy pusher, like some action movie star, and threatened him until he
lost his bladder control.
But in my mind, every fantasy went astray. I swaggered, but
my hips were swinging wide with each step. When I bellied up to the bad guy, I
was actually pulling my shoulders back and thrusting my assets at him, small as
the were, as if daring him to lay a hand on me. Although I grabbed his collar
and pulled him face to face, I didn't lift him *up* to meet my towering
stature, I pulled him *down* to face my short self. And when it was time to
start the mayhem, I didn't lay into the creep myself, I snapped my fingers and
said, "Take him down, boys." And my large following of loyal males
rushed in to do my bidding.
Hmmm, I guess I understand why Mystique only recruited
males.
After class, I managed to elude the crew from the mansion,
and connected up with Todd and Freddy.
"You still got the guts for this?" Freddy asked.
"I'm game. Let's make it happen."
Freddy had an oversized black pickup truck (I suppose I
shouldn't have been surprised), and the three of us headed for the old coal
silo. There was a little trouble, particularly moving through the snow of the
unplowed road up to the silo. We could see the tracks of several other cars
before us, but Freddy handled his truck well. Maybe the oversized tires gave
it better traction.
There were three cars already parked on the snow-covered
roadside. Some heads poked out around the corner as we pulled up, then pulled
back once they saw Freddy. Whatever else you might think of him, everyone knew
that Freddy was no cop.
I stepped out, letting the boys fall in behind me. "Todd,
can you check to see if he has any backup?"
"Sure, but I don't want to miss the show."
"Okay."
I shrugged into my trench coat, getting the fit just right,
and headed forward.
Yep. There was Slick Rick. He'd set up shop under an
overhanging bit of machinery which kept the snow off. He was dealing drugs out
of a briefcase, as blatant as you care to see it. I think the four other kids
around sensed that something was about to happen, so they pulled back to a safe
distance.
"I hear they call you Slick Rick," I opened.
"You looking for a good time? I recognized Tolensky
over there, and no one's ever going to have a problem picking Dukes out of a
line up, but you're a new one on me Trench Coat. You wanna have some fun?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do." I smiled. For
some reason, I was angry as hell, and I'd just found the perfect stress
reliever. "Actually, I'm looking for a dangerous time. I'm looking for
trouble. I think I'm going to have to stomp your ugly little business, and
confiscate your merchandise."
Slick Rick seemed only mildly surprised. He snapped his
case shut and pushed it behind him, then pulled a foot-long hunting knife and
shifted his grip so that the blade lay back against his forearm, not sticking
up parallel to his thumb, the way an amateur would hold it.
"Back off, shitface, and I won't have to hurt you or
fat boy there."
"Rick," I said, far too politely, "you just
made a *big* mistake. You see, Freddy here," I jerked a thumb over my
shoulder, "may look fat to you, but that's mostly because he's big.
Really big. As in, lots of muscle. I expect that Freddy has more muscle in
one arm that you've got in your whole pathetic body."
I saw Slick Rick's eyes moving back and forth, trying to
judge the truth of what I was saying. Just then, Todd made an impressive leap
down behind up. (Impressive, but not unbelievable. I don't think the crew
watching thought that it was anything other than careful planning on our
part.) Todd grabbed the brief case, saying, "Hey, look at what I found!"
Rick spun, and I moved in behind him. Rick turned back
toward me, and Todd leapt lightly up, then scurried up onto the overhead
machinery. Once again, impressively athletic, but not super-human. Rick spun,
then spun again. His eyes focused on me and narrowed.
"You son of a bitch!"
And faster than I expected, he slashed at me – high, then
low. My combat training with Logan served me well, I blocked the high strike
with my forearm. The knife thudded against my arm guard, but didn't
penetrate. The low slash against my belly was also stopped by the scale. I
was just congratulating myself when Rick unleashed another flurry of strikes
against my arm, a slash at my face, a quick spin of the knife to stab followed
by a stab to the gut and the groin. I blocked, tried to block, and felt the
two stabs. The groin shot was stopped by the solid plate of my armor (good old
bikini armor), but I felt a cut from the gut stab. It was also hard enough to
knock the wind out of me and knock me back and to the ground. Rick wasn't
playing around here – he'd been trying to kill me. If I hadn't been wearing
armor –
I wiped a gloved hand against my cheek and it came away
bloody. When had I cut my face? And now I was down and Rick was moving in for
the kill…but Freddy had finally stepped forward.
"No one messes with my friends, get it?" he
thundered.
Rick's knife arm was engulfed by Freddy's fist. Rick
transferred the knife to his off hand just as Freddy squeezed and the arm
cracked with the sickening sound of bone breaking. Rick stabbed desperately
into the back of Freddy's hand, but of course it had no effect. The knife sank
in a bit but didn't penetrate Freddy's skin. Almost casually Freddy reached
out with his other hand and grabbed Rick's remaining arm, then began to pull
him apart.
"Freddy, no!" I yelled. "Don't kill him!"
Rick screamed as both arms were dislocated, then fainted as
Freddy dropped him on the ground.
Freddy reached down for me. "You okay?" His hand
grabbed mine, and I felt myself hoisted to my feet as if a winch had pulled me
up.
"Yeah, I think so." I reached into my trench coat
and pulled out a handy (and sterile!) cotton handkerchief that hadn't been
there a moment earlier. I pressed it to my face, trying to figure out how bad
the cut was.
I distantly noticed the other kids making a hasty exit.
News of this was bound to be around the school tomorrow.
"Todd, my good man, why don't you hop on down and let's
see what we have for our winners."
The briefcase was one of those locking aluminum models, but
they apparently hadn't created a Blob-proof model yet. Freddy ripped it open
to reveal a mixed assortment of drugs and cash. We burned the drugs.
Marijuana, assorted white powders, and little vials of crystals all went up
nicely in the when doused with gasoline – but we were careful to stay upwind.
Under that cheery blaze, I divided the cash two ways between Freddy and Todd.
Seven hundred forty-nine dollars for each of them.
"Shouldn't it be three ways?" Todd asked. "Not
that I'm complaining, or anything."
"Well, my very good friend Freddy here just saved my
life. Without him, I would be quite dead now. That ought to count for
something. And you, Mr. Tolensky, pulled off one magnificent snatch on poor
old Rick there." I paused, dabbing at my face. "Also, I'm starting
to feel a little guilty. There's going to be more to it than this. I'm sure
both Rick and the kids are going to talk. Someone's going to come tracing this
back, which probably means more trouble for us. I'm sure Freddy can handle it,
but I'm starting to feel bad about involving you, Todd."
"Aw, I can take care of myself."
"Well, if you get in a tight spot, tell them I was the
mastermind and send them my way."
"Yeah, sure."
I suddenly sat down on the ground, not entirely of my own
volition. "What do you know? The adrenaline seems to be going."
Freddy stuffed the money in his pocket. "We'd better
get him back to Xavier's place. They got a doc up there."
*****
"What the hell were you thinking?" Moira yelled at
me, as she stitched up the small cut in my cheek – without anesthetic. I think
maybe Freddy's dump-me-and-peel-out maneuver didn't exactly score any points
with my X-friends.
"It's just like Danger Room training, only in real
life," I explained. "Besides, I was angry. This helped take the
edge off, a little."
Logan was there, looking insufferably pleased with himself.
"I was right, kid. You're a scrapper. I knew it."
Moira rounded on him. "Are you actually *condoning*
what she's done?"
"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Or maybe a
girl, sometimes."
"Look at her face! That's going to leave a permanent
scar! She could have been killed!"
"Maybe. But maybe that's the only thing that makes
life worth living, sometimes. 'Sides, the scar will fade once she can pull a couple
of real shapeshifts. Either that or we'll use Rogue's power and I'll loan her
a little healing factor."
As Moira looked at the insignificant scratch on my belly,
Logan grilled me.
"So, kid, what was your plan?"
I was starting to like him. This wasn't exactly a new side
to Logan, but it was a side that I'd never really appreciated before.
"Let's see. The plan was pretty much to make myself a
target until the pusher made a real move on me. I didn't feel right somehow,
unless he started things. Then I would keep from getting killed while Freddy –
I mean, Blob, took him down."
"Pretty pathetic plan. And what exactly was your goal,
here?"
"Well, to stop this guy from pushing, but mainly I was
looking for a fight. I wanted to mess someone up."
"Yeah, I know how that is. If you're ever just
spoiling for a beating, come look me up."
"Maybe I'll wait until I've got a little more training."
I had no illusions about my chances against Logan.
"Good idea. Makes it more fun for me, that way. So, what
were your main attacks and offensive tactics?"
"Uh…"
"I think I get the picture. Any better on defense?"
"I whipped up some armor. We knew he was armed with a
knife, so that's what I had to protect against."
"Yeah, right, until he snatches his holdout. Trust me,
kid, you *always* want to have a holdout. So let's see this armor."
I'd vanished it before Moira could start examining me.
Among other things, I didn't want to explain the armored bikini. But I
materialized a bit of the scale cloth for Logan.
"Hey, pretty interesting. This your invention? Not
bad. What's it made of?"
"Chiton – sort of a lobster-shell material – over
hardened leather, bonded into a silk weave."
"You finished here, Doc? I want to take the kid into
the Danger Room and give her some pointer that might save her the next time she
decided to pull an idiotic stunt like this."
"Hey, I *am* a guy, you know."
"Just give me a second alone with her, Logan."
As Logan stepped out, she turned to me in fury. "That
was about the stupidest thing I've ever seen. If you *ever* go looking for
trouble like that again, I'll make sure you regret it, young lady!"
"Listen, Doc, I was old when you were just a little
grad student. I'll make my own decisions. And by the way, I'm still a man."
I pointed down. "I've got the equipment to prove it."
Her eyes took on a gleam. "Oh yeah? Maybe today's
change ought to fix that, to remind you of who and what you really are, *girl*."
My pulse hammered. Was she serious? This was my manhood,
in some ways, my identity. True, there was a traitorous voice insides me
chanting, *yes yes yes yes,* but most of my mind was screaming, *No! I am a
man!* With a voice that wasn't nearly as steady as I wanted, I said, "I
thought you could only make changes that I was psychologically ready for?"
"Maybe we should push that, hmmm? Maybe you're closer
to being ready than you think?"
"No!"
"Okay, then we'll compromise. Something to remind
you. Just a little adjustment to your waist. No one will ever notice under
those baggy clothes. We'll just give you the narrower waist that Rogue really
has and I won't threaten anything more severe – unless you pull another stunt
like this one."
"Do I have a choice? Agreed, for now."
She said the stupid word, followed by her stupid chant, "A
thin girlish waist: just like Rogue. Just like normal. One step closer to
home, girl."
The worst part was, I knew a part of me *did* feel like I
was moving back to what I was supposed to be. My traitorous body liked the sensuous
curve my slender waist gave me. It was pushing me to be a soft, silly, weak
girl. I was fighting every step of the way, but I could feel myself losing,
bit by bit.
*****
Logan showed me where we kept the bullet-proof vests and
discussed the benefits and disadvantages of armor.
"Two main problems: either you feel invulnerable and do
something stupid, like what you did, or else you get a fortress mentality and
get so wrapped up in protection that you never come out to threaten the enemy.
Remember, offense is more important than defense. A good offense can *always*
find a way around a defense, but a good defense alone will never win anything.
"Now, let's check out your scale cloth in this test rig
here. Can you whip up some for this practice dummy?" I guestured. "Good,
impressive little talent. I'm going to attack it with these knives."
Logan moved up to the practice dummy and began to slash and
thrust. The associated monitor indicated at least a dozen fatal wounds before
he stopped.
"Not bad, especially for a first try. I expected two
or three times as many fatals. The real question is what happens…now."
Before I could blink, he pulled out a huge handgun and fired
a shot that knocked the dummy over. By the time I got to it, I could see the
gaping hole in the chest (despite my armor) and the even larger hole in back.
"Don't feel too bad, kid. That was a .44 magnum,
loaded with Teflon-coated bullets. The so-called 'cop killers'. They're
*designed* to go through bullet-proof vests. Guess you're lucky that your
pusher didn't have one of those for his holdout, aren't you?"
I nodded, dumbly.
"Still, keep up the good work. If you get much better,
we'll want to import the lightweight flexible parts into the X-costumes. After
all, we want every edge we can get."
Then he decided that what I really needed, right now, was
some more work on the basics of hand-to-hand. He ran me through the drills of
blocks and punches, concentrating on how to fight a knife-wielding opponent.
"One more thing," Logan said, as he left. "I
don't trust you to look after yourself any more. So I'm assigning someone from
the team to stick close to you – both during and after school. Someone who
will watch you close, who can call for help fast, and who get you back here in
a hurry if you get hurt."
"What? Who? Not *Jean*!" *No,* I thought, *Don't
saddle me with the cheerleader! But that won't work anyway. Doesn't she have
practice and games? Then who…?* "Oh, no. You wouldn't!"
"I would."
"Not him, please!"
"Uh huh. From now on, 'Crawler is watching your every
move."
I decided that I hated my life.
*****
"But those guys are, like, so *icky*!" Kitty
whined. "Why would you want to hang around with them? Particularly Toad?"
We were all back in the room I shared with Kitty, now that
the window had been fixed. Jean was next to Kitty, her robe as immodest as
ever.
"Blob's the one that scares me," Jean admitted. "Sometimes
I still have nightmares where he grabs me and takes me away. Who could stop
him? Last time he even stopped Wolverine. It took Rogue to stop him, and I
think she absorbed some of his power."
"Scott could take him," Kitty insisted, loyally. "It
was his power that took Blob down that time."
"Guys, you're missing the point," I said. "It
shouldn't be us versus them. We should be trying to work *with* them. Sure,
their style is a bit different, but I can't believe you were never so
frustrated that you didn't want to just let loose. We *did* that, and in a way
that shouldn't expose anyone, and we took down a pusher. A *pusher*! That's
good, right?"
"Shit, Trautwein, you really are naïve, aren't you?"
It was a considerable shock hearing my old name,
particularly issuing from my body. I mean, from fake-me. Make that,
fake-Rogue.
"What?"
"Drug dealers aren't independent operators. It isn't
some freelance business, like selling paintings out of the back of your car.
It's an *organization.* You just spit on their reputation. Now they have to
make an example out of you."
"Yeah, I knew that."
She looked at me and snorted. "I can't believe this.
Every day you sound more like her, and act more like her. This is the sort of
idiotic rebelliousness I expect from a *real* fifteen-year-old, not from a
veteran soldier."
"So what are you saying?" I asked her, angrily. "We're
mutants! We have special powers. Are you saying we shouldn't help to clean
this place up? And maybe for once Freddy and Todd got to do something on the
right side! The got to feel good about themselves! I know the 'organization'
is going to come back for us! Todd…everyone knows that he isn't the brains
behind this. Freddy is damn near invulnerable. *I'm* the only one that has to
worry, and I can live with that on my conscience."
"Not quite," Jackie said. "Isn't 'brother
dearest' going to be around you all the time now?"
I growled at her, clawing at the bed and preparing to
spring.
Kitty almost fell over backward, yelling, "Shit!"
A ripple splashed in the air between Jackie and me, and I
knew that Jean had popped up one of her telekinetic shields.
"What?" I growled angrily at Jean.
"Look in the mirror," Kitty managed to choke out.
I leaned back, catching my reflection in the vanity mirror.
A tiger-striped cat-girl looked back, with slitted eyes and pronounced
canines. I looked down at my hands, noticing that my fingers were suddenly
shorter by about one knuckle length. But when I flexed to slide my claws out,
they reached out to normal length.
Noticing the contours of my T-shirt, I pulled the neck open
(harder to do with cat fingers) and peeked down my front. Yep. Definitely a
cat-*girl*.
"Uh…oops. Any idea how I get out of this? Unless you
think that from now on *I* should get to keep the name 'Kitty.'"
"Well…" Jackie began.
I glared at her. You can do that *real* well with
cat-eyes. "You better not say one bad word about Kurt, or you're cutlets,
body-thief!"
"You think I'd rather be some skanky teenager, when I
could be my own curvy self?"
"Um," Jean broke in, "maybe this isn't the
best time to play bait-the-pussy."
Jackie and I snickered together.
"What?"
Jackie and I shared a look. She broke first: "You said
a dirty word. Huh, huh, huh."
Jean looked perplexed, then cross-eyed, then very
irritated. "You two ARE men, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "That's what I've been telling you."
"Oh, just shut up and change back!" But she also
tied her robe shut.
I looked back at Jackie.
"I don't know," she said. "My abilities don't
work that way. I guess the best I can suggest is to reach out and feel your
body. You should have some sort of image or pattern or something. Once you
can see it, you ought to be able to change it to fit your own image."
I closed my eyes and felt. "Nope. Nothing like that."
"Well, imagine what you want to look like. Try to make
that happen."
I tried. Nothing.
"Well, try relaxing."
Nothing. We talked about it for another minute, when I felt
myself changing. I took a quick look in the mirror, patted my chest, took a
quick pat to my crotch.
"Ah, thank goodness. Back to normal. A proper man
once more." Inner voices had mixed feelings about that, but I ignored
them.
"Well, uh, you know that's not exactly true, don't you?"
Jackie asked, tentatively.
"What are you talking about?"
"Well…Mystique's power, remember? I *told* you that
she can't create organs that she didn't originally possess. Likewise, she can't
remove organs that she *does* possess."
I smiled. "Yeah, I remember thinking at the time that
you weren't quite correct. After all, depending on how you define things, men
possess a couple of organs that a woman like Mystique never had." I said
it somewhat smugly.
"Er, yeah. Well, you see, *men* do, but *you* don't."
"Is she talking about what I think she's talking about?"
Kitty asked Jean.
"Oh, for goodness sakes child! 'Penis' and 'testicles'!
Come on, you can say it!"
"Eww, gross!"
"Grow up!" Jackie chided. "But don't worry
about it right now. There's none in *this* room, at least."
"I beg your pardon!" I told her. "We happen
to have an anatomically correct man over here."
"No," Jackie corrected, "we have a woman who
has been stretched into the *shape* of a man. Instead of the vulnerable
testicles a man has, you probably just have two lumps of flesh. And your penis
is just a lump of flesh. It doesn't get erect, it doesn't have the same
sensitivity, and you can be darned sure that it'll never get a woman pregnant."
I just stared at her, aghast.
"I'm not listening to this! This conversation is just
too icky-freaky!"
"But, I…"
"Sure, if you were in control of Mystique's powers you
could make yourself *seem* erect, but it would be shapeshifting, not what
happens to a man. You mean you hadn't figured it out? I told you back at the
beginning – you can change your *shape*, but you can't really change what you
*are*."
"You're lying." But I said it in a whisper.
"Don't believe me? Go check it out."
"I…I will." My voice sounded like the voice of
defeat. I grabbed my bathrobe and trudged down the hall to the bathroom.
Inside, I pulled up my T-shirt and looked at the old manhood.
Everything *looked* right, but that was the point, wasn't
it? I felt my testicles, squeezed them, crushed them. Nothing. It was like
pinching an earlobe. With trepidation, I touched my own penis. I urinated
(which worked fine), slapped at it, rubbed it, manipulated it. But there was
no stimulus, nothing sexual. Actually, that's not quite true. At the base of
the shaft above my penis, somewhere *inside* me, there was something
sensitive. Something that responded sluggishly to my ministrations. Something
that wasn't in any way male, and caused a brief echoing tingle in my nipples.
I trudged back to the bedroom silently, wrapped in a black
depression. *I wasn't a man.*
I closed and locked the door, while the girls watched me
silently. I hung up my robe and climbed into bed and pulled the covers up,
then pulled the pillow over my head so that maybe they wouldn't hear me cry.
As the soft sobs came, I felt my body relaxing back into
*her* shape. That was good. Girls could cry, men couldn't. But I wasn't a
man, was I? I'd never been a man, I'd only been fooled into thinking I was.
I felt the bed sink under three different weights, as the
girls all came to my bed. As one of them touched my shoulder I twisted around
and sat up, yelling at all of them. "Don't touch me! Look, I'm back to
*normal*! I can't touch you! I can't touch *anybody*!"
Kitty gingerly touched my back, then snaked an arm around
me. I pulled up my oddly long legs and hugged them against my short torso,
feeling them pressing against my *breasts*.
"Okay…" Jackie finally said, "we could try
this. You could touch me, right now, and drain my powers. Then you could use
that to change your body for real – back into Jerry, or Gerard, or whoever you
want. We'd probably have to keep working at it all night, but who knows, it
might be permanent."
"You'd…you'd let me touch you?"
"I'm willing to try."
I reached out to touch her lightly on the cheek. She almost
flinched, but held it in check. I felt just the first tingle of a drain, then
pulled my fingertips away.
"I can't. This is *my* problem. I have to face it on
my own, for real."
Jackie pulled in a breath and let it back out, shuddering
slightly. She'd been scared!
"Okay, then there are two other things you need to get
ready to face."
I nodded quickly, face pressed once more against my legs.
"First, whatever shape you're in, you're still a woman
inside. That means that in a week or two you're going to have to face your
first period."
I clutched my legs tighter.
"Like, do we have to *talk* about that? Besides, this
is hardly her *first*."
"It's not the first for this body, but it is the first
for this new *girl*. Remember, she thinks she's a man. She's never had a
period before."
Jean gave a quick laugh, and then patted me on the back. "Sorry!
I'm not laughing at you. I'm just thinking that I wish I could put *all* men
through it, once or twice. I bet they'd all be just huge babies."
"So Kitty," Jackie asked, "when are you due,
and were you and Rogue in sync?"
"Well, we've only been rooming together for about a
month, and she even moved out for a week. But last time she started a day or
two after me. Not like we ever talked about it out loud, like *some* people."
"And when are you due?"
Kitty gave a theatrical sigh. "If I *must* tell, I
should be due on the 18th, about ten AM."
"You keep track to the *hour*?" Jean sounded
incredulous.
"Like, if you come up with a better use for a
predictive algorithm, I'd *love* to hear it."
"Well, yeah, good point."
"Okay," Jackie continued, "and Rogue's been
changing to girl-shape every night, hasn't she? I know she's been a man during
the day."
"What does *that* have to do with it?" Kitty
asked. "Does it screw up her hormones or something?"
"No, no, nothing like that. It's just that if she's
still on schedule, she's due to ovulate any day now."
"So?" Kitty asked. "Why would that matter.
It's not like she's going to be 'doing it' any time soon. I mean, we're all
still in high school, right? No one's doing *that* yet. …Are they?"
I poked my eyes up above my knees to see this.
"Are they?"
Jean shook her head furiously.
"How would *I* know?" I said in disgust.
"Uh…Rogue, remember?" Kitty said gently, stroking
my back. "You found your powers during your first kiss or something. And
since then you haven't even been able to hold hands, so you could hardly –"
"I get the picture, thanks so much."
"Just trying to help," she said in a huff.
"You are, Kitty," I said quietly. "I'd hug
you if I could."
"Yeah, I know Rogue. It's okay. So anyway, none of us
has…you know." She stared at Jackie. And stared.
"Hey…" Jackie protested, "I *am* a grown
woman!"
"But…" I was in shock "…you're a GUY!"
She shrugged. "You'll have to try it for yourself. I
found it a very persuasive experience. Just make sure to find a guy who is
both gentle and patient. And nice and slow, mmmm." She closed her eyes
and gave a smile that was almost evil.
"You mean…" Kitty was aghast "you're telling
us that you're *pregnant*?"
"What? No! What gave you that idea?"
"But you were talking about ovulation and everything…"
"Oh, yeah." Jackie turned serious again. "But
I want you guys to keep quiet about this, okay?"
We all nodded.
"Shapeshifters, that is, female shapeshifters, have a
particular weakness. Right around the time of ovulation, we tend to freeze up
in whatever shape we're in. Over the course of about sixty minutes you just
freeze up, locked in your current form. It's like trying to move through
molasses, and then you can't even shift at all. A couple of days later, if you
aren't pregnant, you loosen up again. But if you are pregnant, you're stuck
until a week or two after the baby is born."
