X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 13: The cost
"Rogue, talk to me! You can't, like, stay under those
covers forever."
"Yeah, Sugar, you're going to have to come out to pee
sooner or later."
Hah! I could evaporate organic liquids. I'd already used
that little talent to clean myself up the first time I had to use my new
plumbing. I could stay under here longer than they could wait. But just as a
precaution, I formed another layer of blankets and made sure that they were all
melded into a big cocoon. It still looked normal on the outside, but no one
was going to be pulling those blankets off me.
Yeah, they looked normal on the outside, but under the
surface, the blankets were about as different as you could imagine. Just like
me. Freakish weird.
With nothing better to occupy my mind, I created a
blanket-layer of armor-cloth around me, merged in with the rest of the cocoon.
And some more fluff, for insulation and sound deadening, and maybe another
layer of armor under that. And a few more layers of blanket. All sealed nice
and tight.
I could barely hear Kitty's voice now. Wrapped up like this
I was safe from them, and even better, they were safe from me. Maybe they
realized that because they grew quieter and quieter as I fell asleep in my stuffy
cocoon. It was warm and quiet, and I closed my eyes at last.
The cold air outside shocked me awake again.
Kitty was hugging me and we were on top of my bed. Someone
was stroking my hair. Why had I thought that layers of cloth and armor would
stop Kitty?
"You little idiot! Were you trying to suffocate
yourself?" It was my voice. Or rather, it was the body thief.
"Let me go!" I yelled. Were either of them
touching my skin?
Kitty looked up at me in alarm, then her big brown eyes
started to fill with tears, while her lower lip did this quivery thing.
"No, Kitty! Not you, too! I didn't mean to hurt you,
too!" My first impulse was to reach forward and hug her. She made a
tentative move toward me but I pulled back. "No! No touching." I
thought about it, and a moment later I was wearing a long-sleeved green shirt
and leather gloves. For good measure, I extended the fabric up over my face
like a desperado, with a neckerchief pulled up over the nose. It hid my stupid
man's face while making sure that no one would have to touch my skin.
Kitty looked at me and carefully took my hand, clutching it
tight while she stroked my forearm. I held my arm in close, because that was
the side with the rib, which was really burning.
"What's *wrong* with you, Rogue?" she sniffled. "Why
are you freaking out so badly? What happened to Kurt? Why won't the Professor
talk to us?"
"I…I killed them, Kitty. Four kids. I just killed
them."
I felt Jackie pressing up against my back. "Start
talking, kid," she said. "Start and the beginning and let it all
out."
I looked around, confirming that the we were alone and that
the door was closed. I was strangely happy that Jean wasn't there. Much as
she joined in with nightly gossip sessions, I wasn't really close to her the
same way I was with Kitty. And the body thief and I – that was a strange
relationship. I sometimes hated her, sometimes felt very close to her, and was
usually irritated by her, all at the same time. But Kitty – she was special.
Sure, she was an overly-spunky little twerp, and her mannerisms got on my
nerves sometimes, but she was also the sweetest person I knew. That was part
of why I didn't want her to hear this. Innocence is so easy to destroy. I
could imagine her next call home. "Mom, Dad, you'll never guess! My
roommate's a murderer! Yep, she slits throats in cold blood. And no
troublesome bodies either, 'cause after she looted them, she sunk them in the
lake. Well, bye now!" Yeah, that would go over *real* well.
"Okay, calm down. You don't want to hyperventilate."
Jackie spoke in soothing tones while she stroked my hair. It was an oddly
comforting gesture.
"Okay," I gulped some air while trying to figure
out how to tell it without telling too much. "I…Kurt and I…we were biking
back to the mansion. The bike path along the lake front, you know?"
Kitty nodded, concerned. "So we were just talking, I don't even remember
what it was about. Kurt made some joke. And then suddenly this car comes
crashing across the bike trail. It, like, just came smashing off the road and
landed right across the trail. We couldn't stop in time and both our bikes
smacked into it. Kurt rolled over the top and I went over the hood. But you
know Kurt. Mr. Acrobat probably did some mid-air flip and landed on his feet.
I was lucky to land without breaking an arm or leg. You know that falling
practice that Logan gives us? Keep up on it! It really works!
"So…"
Kitty looked at me as I tried to gather myself for the next
part. She squeezed my hand, urging me on, which only made me feel worse about
what I was going to dump on her.
"So all four doors of the car pop open. It was these
four greaser kids. Like that senior, Ricord, only sleazier if you can
imagine. And they all had guns. And one of them, the driver I think, points
at me as says that they have to make an example out of me or something like
that because of what I did to Slick Rick. But Kurt and I were both up by then
and we ducked back into the trees. We both climbed up – you know that Kurt has
no problem with even the toughest tree – so we got away from them for a moment.
"I—I guess it would have been better if we'd just run.
Kurt could have 'ported us both back to the mansion. But I think we both
thought we could take them. After all, Kurt's fought against supervillains
like Magneto, and I faced the Italian and German armies. A couple of punks
shouldn't have been too tough.
"So Kurt 'ported over to the car. Two of them hung
back at the car, while the other two came gunning for me. So I was pretty mad,
and I had this idea…" I held out my free hand and grew a set of
mini-quills on it.
"Oh, yuck! You hit someone with those?" God, she
was so innocent! How could I tell her the rest?
"Nasty, but appropriate." Jackie plucked out a
quill and fingered it, looking at the tiny barb. "Remind me not to get
you really mad at me."
"So I was in my armor by then, wrapped up in what Evan
calls my 'ninja suit' and I jumped out of the tree at the first guy. He got
quills all over his back and shoulder, and I got some slashes in on the second
guy –"
"Slashes?" Kitty asked, suddenly.
"Uh…yeah." I vanished the quills and grew out the
claws, an inch and a half long.
"Oh." Kitty gulped, looking a little queasy. "I
guess they deserved that. I mean, they were trying to shoot you, right?"
I nodded quickly and rushed through the next part. "There
was a shot, and I heard Kurt's voice. He was down, and bleeding. He'd knocked
out one of the guys at the car, but the other one shot him. He just – shot
him. They shot Kurt. My…my brother."
I didn't say anything for a minute, and they sat with me,
holding on to me. There was something about this body that made the eyes water
more. A lot more than my original body. After a minute I sniffed and tried to
continue.
"So I ran up, kind of trying to dodge. He shot at me,
hit me a couple of times, but the armor stopped that. I gave him a face full
of quills and checked on Kurt. He was bleeding and the only thing I could
think of was to 'port back here, so that Dr. McTaggart could help him. So I
got rid of the gloves and touched him, so I could 'port us both back. And it
worked. Ever since I got locked like this – a half-and-half freak – I've had
Rogue's wonderful 'gift' back full time. No skin contact for me, nosiree.
Anyway, I shouldn't have let myself get distracted, 'cause I was a sitting
duck. One of them had a perfect shot on me. He got me right in the side."
I reached my left hand around and touched my side gently. "Right here. I
think I broke a rib."
Kitty immediately dropped my hand. "Omigod! Are you
okay?"
"So before I knew what I was doing, I had 'ported over
to him and I was throttling him." I tried to suppress the shudder. "And
I'd forgotten about not having gloves on. And I saw everything he was
thinking, what they'd planned, all the hits they'd made," my voice was
getting quieter "all the rapes." In a whisper I said it. "They
were going to make a real example. Carve us up for real."
Kitty has eyes the size of saucers while she tried to jam
both fists into her mouth.
"What did you do?" Jackie asked quietly, from
behind me.
"I did what I always did, every time I kacked someone.
You do it by the numbers, that way there's no mistake. They were down, so the
first thing you do is take care of your own." I shook my head. "No,
that's not right. *I* made sure that Kurt was okay. I brought him back to the
medics. *They* would have iced everyone on the other side first." In a
whisper, I added, "I didn't get around to that until step two."
Kitty took her fists out of her mouth long enough to ask
it. "You *killed* them?"
I nodded, a sharp jerking motion. I was trying not to think
about pulling back on hair, or sliding a claw across a throat. "All four
of them. And I looted the bodies. And I dumped them in the lake, weighted
with rocks, where no one will ever find them. But that isn't the worst."
Jackie had stopped stroking my hair, but her hand was still
there on me. I took a breath.
"He was *in* me. His mind. His memories. I saw the
things he'd done. I panicked. I was thinking like him. He'd been in that
situation a lot. His name was Bo. He remembers killing eight people, six men
and two women, but he might have killed more. It's sometimes hard to tell in a
firefight or drive-by. Not counting the four women he raped. One of them over
and over. And I saw it. I remember it. I still remember it!"
I couldn't stop the tears.
Kitty reached for me.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I yelled at her. "Don't
anyone EVER touch me!"
And she and Jackie backed away, which was just what I
wanted, wasn't it?
*****
I felt better with my whole face covered by the mask. And
it was nice being able to make a bodysuit that even covered my hands and feet.
I had to vanish parts of it to let Dr. McTaggart look at me. There wasn't much
she could do. She taped up my ribs. Actually I supplied the tape, since I
didn't want any synthetics touching me. Kurt was next door, since he wasn't
allowed to watch while I was examined.
I was glad that he was going to be fine. The old X-costume
had some protection, at least. And the shot had cut through some muscle but
hadn't penetrated to the intestines, so Kurt was going to be okay, even if he
wouldn't be doing sit-ups for a while.
Once the taping up was done, Logan had come for me.
"Come on," was all he said.
I followed, silently. It was cold, so I made the cloak
appear. The hood covered my head and hair, and pulled forward, it hit most of
my face. The exposed parts, at least. The rest of the cloak helped hide my
body. It wasn't as if everybody in the mansion didn't already know, but Rogue's
body – boney scarecrow that she was – was still a bit too feminine for me. I
felt like an exhibitionist with her legs and hips and…other parts waving around
for everyone to see. I felt a lot better in the cloak.
"Chuck wants to talk to you."
Logan held the door while I went in, then he closed it
behind me. It was just me and a wheelchair-bound man, in a book-lined study.
We stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment. He sat there calmly,
hands clasped in his lap, while the light from the single window glinted off
his shiny bald head.
After far too long he said, "You seem a bit defensive.
Would you care to talk about it?"
I debated what to say. I wondered what would happen if I
just left. Finally, "Rogue's powers are back. So long as my body's stuck
like this, I can't block her powers. I don't want anyone touching me."
"I see. I've spoken with Kurt, briefly. Logan tells
me that there's no one remaining at the car. Would you care to talk about
that?"
"Not really."
He steepled his fingers. "I'd like to remind you how
important this is. An investigation could reflect on this school and the work
we're doing here. Exposure of the students, their abilities, and the mutant
population would be only the beginning. I understand that you may be carrying
strong feelings about this, but is the risk worth it?"
I said nothing, trying to think of a way out.
"Are you willing to risk Kitty? Or Kurt? Think what
exposure might mean to him."
"That's a cheap shot." I practically hissed it at
him.
"Perhaps. It's also the truth. I do my best to
balance the needs of *all* my students, including you. But I can't help unless
you'll let me."
"Then… damn it! Come into my mind! Use your powers!
Look at what I've done!" I could already feel him there. The moment I'd
given my permission. "See what I've become."
"Good Lord!"
"What am I going to do?"
For a moment he didn't answer. Then, I felt the telepathic
call. *Logan, step into my office please.*
The door opened a second later. Logan must have been
standing just outside.
"Logan, you looked at the site, correct?"
"Yeah, about forty minutes ago."
"Did you touch the car? Had anyone come to
investigate?"
"No one saw it, but it's been a while. What do you
want?"
Charles thought for a moment. "I want you and Rogue to
return to the site. Make sure no one sees you. If there are no people there,
you can use your senses to locate all traces of the incident. Rogue will be
able to disintegrate them so that no evidence remains. Then I want you to
drive the car somewhere far away and abandon it. I want no connection to exist
between that car, the incident, or this institute, understood?"
"Yeah, I got it, Chuck." He looked at me. "You
good with this, kid?"
I was so rattled that I didn't even object to the
diminutive. "I can hold up my part."
"Then come with me. And wear something non-descript."
*****
During the short ride Logan was quiet except to say, "What
about the attackers?"
"They won't be found."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
We arrived before the police, apparently, but Logan traced
the scents around the area.
"Yeah, there were three other bikers. One came around
this side, the other two came around here."
I concentrated on evaporating all the dried blood residue –
both on the pavement and in the dirt and grass. Logan spotted a couple of
other spots I'd missed, including some drops leading back to my tree. I also
disintegrated any of the quills I found.
When we were done, Logan hot-wired the car and backed out
onto the road. With me following, he headed south. Twenty minutes later, he
parked on a deserted stretch of dirt road. I let him back in to the driver's
seat and we returned to the mansion.
*****
"So," Charles said, "in conjunction with your
earlier work, there should be no trace of unpleasantness. Three bicyclists
have seen the sight, perhaps reported it, but nothing suspicious remains. Both
the police and the sponsoring gang will find no leads. The police, I am
confident, will have no reason to pursue this. The gang will act more
cautiously in the future."
I stood there, accepting his summation. The interval had
given me time to collect myself. If he thought I was going to display my
previous weakness, he was sadly mistaken.
"You seem to be taking this pretty well, Charles,"
I told him. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost suspect that you were no
stranger to acts of violence, depravity, and murder."
He stared into my eyes for a moment, and I had a sense of
depths that I hadn't noticed before. "Being a telepath means…being aware
of things that you'd prefer not to know. In some merciful cases, it also means
having the strength of mind to hold on to your sense of self and your values,
despite outside influences. A strength that you clearly lack." The
disapproval was obvious. ">From now on, in addition to instructing you
in basic combat skills, we will begin teaching you to cope with the identities
you will encounter. This training will serve to protect you both through Rogue's
memory absorption skill, and as you deliberately adopt personas as part of
Mystique's shapechanging ability. Do you understand?"
I nodded. "Yes Sir." Was I acknowledging him as
my superior officer, or as the adult leader of the school? I wasn't entirely
sure.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"I'm – I regret what happened, Sir." I almost
started to say something else.
"What is it?"
How could I do this without breaking down in front of him? "In
the past…you've erased people's memories. When they saw mutants, or happened
to be in the wrong place."
"Yes, although it's far easier to do within the first
few minutes."
*Ah, short-term versus long-term memories again.* I was
beginning to understand that Rogue's power only absorbed long-term memories.
"Could you – could you look at the memories I got. The
ones from 'Bo.' They are…they are the source of considerable distress."
It wasn't what I'd planned to say, but it was good enough.
Charles nodded reluctantly. "I'll look. Both at what
you said out loud, and what I think is the unspoken request. I won't erase the
memories, but I think I might be able to dim their influence a bit. Lay down
on the couch."
He rolled over to me and reached his hand out, before
rethinking that idea. Touching his forehead, he concentrated and I felt a
sense of movement in my thoughts. Perhaps my fatigue had something to do with
it. I had no interest in resisting. The worst ugliness I might conceal was
already out in the open. Nothing else he might see would compare to that. And
if he could do anything to lance that ugliness, to diminish it in any way –
then he had my blessing to mess in my head however much he wanted.
I felt thoughts and memories thrumming. I don't know how
else to describe it. Imagine that thoughts are a linear thread of remembrance,
and that each thought could be plucked. And once plucked, it would not only
make its own presence felt, but resonate against other threads, near or far, so
that they vibrated in harmony. It was as if my mind were some great harp or
piano, and Charles Xaxier was playing it.
*Look,* he said, in the depths of my mind, *Do you see how
your ability works? You absorb a massive amount of information, but it's
temporary. Only those memories that you consciously trace or deliberately
choose to view get transferred to your own mind.*
*But what about the life of Gerard Trautwein?* I asked.
*That…was an accident which I hope is never repeated.*
There was more activity. I felt as if some things were
changing, but I couldn't say how.
*With discipline,* Charles said, *the mind can learn to both
enhance and suppress memories. This is a skill that I will work on teaching
you; I think you'll need it. It isn't perfect, but it helps.*
I was afraid of the answer, but I couldn't help asking the
question that worried me most of all. *What about his personality? His…soul?
Is there any trace of that?*
I could feel the pressure on my mind suddenly increase. I
did my best to ease the work, trying to hold myself open and receptive. After
a time, Charles "spoke" to me again.
*There are some images and scenes scattered here and there.
I've tried to fade them when I could find them. You may see them again in
dreams or nightmares. But a personality? A soul?* The contact faded as
Charles pulled himself away from me.
"That was somewhat draining," he said aloud. He
rolled away an rubbed his head briefly. After a moment he turned back to me.
"What *is* personality? What is a soul? As a
telepath, I have no better answer than anyone else. What I *do* have is a
unique chance to see the difference between a person and their memories. It is
*you* who have afforded me that opportunity, Rogue.
"Memories seem to convey identity, but I have learned
that this is an illusion. Memories also seem to bring personality and
behavior. This is half an illusion. The memories bring *patterns* and those
patterns can lead to certain responses, particularly if you allow yourself to
carry them out automatically, or without thinking them through deeply. In
novel situations, though, or if you devote deep consideration, there is a
different part of you which rises to take control. Call it the soul if you
will, or perhaps the core personality or the central values. This part of
Rogue has never wavered, not though the accident with Dr. Trautwein, not
through this latest incident. More than anything else, this defines who she
is, how she acts, her likes and dislikes, her goals. Her loves.
"When Rogue acquired Dr. Trautwein's memories, she
thought she was him. For the most part she acted like him. But under some
circumstances, such as when Kurt Wagner was involved, you could see the real
Rogue peering out.
"Likewise, when Rogue absorbed Bo's memories, she found
herself in a situation that was all too familiar to Bo. Her values came
through briefly as she acted to save Kurt, but then she followed Bo's pattern
because that was easiest, and because her anger allowed her to act against the
aggressors. In many ways the deaths of Bo and his companions were poetic
justice. Bo, at least, could be said to have killed himself. With what I have
seen, I can't bring myself to regret that. I don't believe in vigilante
justice, but it's hard to regret the passing of those four.
"All the same, you need to train in the use of your
powers. I had hoped that they could be controlled. Since that now seems
impossible, you will have to learn to manage them, even under crisis
conditions."
I'm sure he must have felt my fear from across the room. It
was fine and easy for him to claim that my identity was some hidden "core
personality." He was talking about the part that I had labeled "the
girl." Everything that *I* thought of as "me" was just so many
memory patterns in his belief. And now he was going to force me to dilute
myself, my mind, my soul, with impressions from other people. Each touch would
make me less me and more someone else.
But I could also feel what he'd done to Bo's memories. They
had faded. The memories were still there, but the emotional impact was
blurred. The memories were just…memories. They weren't trauma. And for that,
I owed Charles. I owed him big.
"I'm not going to be able to just roll over and pretend
I'm a good little high-school student."
"Of course not. Rogue never did before, why should you
now?"
I snorted, finally giving a half-smile. That had almost
made sense.
"One other thing," Charles said, his voice taking
on a serious tone again. "That gang will undoubtedly strike again. As
much as possible, I intend for the trail to dry up. There will be some distant
connection with the institute, but after Jerry Tratwick gives a public goodbye
on Monday, he will leave for greener pastures, never to return. Is that
understood?"
I nodded. "I should be unstuck by then but I still may
not have much control over the shapeshifting. 'Jerry' was a younger version of
me. I'm not sure that I'll be able to make myself look like some other guy."
"That won't be a problem," Charles said. "We
both know that you've learned how to 'relax' as you call it. That gives you
one option. But you have to move beyond the memory patterns that Gerard
Trautwein has given you. It's time to begin moving closer to the core
personality. So whoever you are when you go to school Tuesday, she won't be a
boy."
"But –"
"In the meantime, I believe Dr. McTaggart has you
scheduled for some medical work."
He pressed a button, and moments later the door opened. On
the other side, Dr. Moira McTaggart stood waiting, arms crossed under her
breasts.
"You made me a promise."
"I—" I looked at Charles. I was hoping that he
knew nothing about the exact nature of that medical work. But that meant that
I couldn't really protest, either.
"You promised," Moira reminded.
Trying not to flinch, I turned away from Charles and walked
away toward my doom, with Moira at my side. Each step felt like a step toward
the gallows. Finally, we arrived at the medical lab. After we both stepped inside,
Moira made sure to visibly and obviously lock the door.
"Now we won't be disturbed." She handed me a gown
and gestured toward the other room. "You can change in there."
In something like shock, I pulled my clothes off. I didn't
disrobe, I just pulled, letting the clothes flow around my body and off me. In
moments, I stood there in Rogue's body, wearing only a bra and panties.
"All the way, please."
Needing those precious extra seconds, I took these last
items off manually. Reaching behind me to unclasp the bra, I gasped anew as my
– as *her* breasts came free. In comparison, it was far easier to step out of
the panties.
If only I had known.
Dr. McTaggart finished running some hot water in a tray, and
arranged some items. "Sit on the edge of the bed, there. Good."
She finished snapping on her rubber gloves. Of course – she couldn't touch my
skin.
"I am definitely not in the right mood for this,"
I tried. It was a weak opening, but the best I had at the moment.
"Speaking as a woman who had experienced more than a
few pelvic exams," she said, "I sympathize. But then, there's really
no right mood or good time for this. If it helps, try to see this as just a
clinical procedure, which it is. If you can emotionally distance yourself,
then more power to you."
She began by pulling the front of the gown off my arms,
leaving me bare from the waist up. She went through the usual routine, taking
pulse and blood pressure, temperature and heartbeat, listening to my breathing
and peering into my ears, nose, and every other hole in my head. Then she
calmly reached over and touched my breast. That is, Rogue's breast.
"It is important to check for lumps," she
explained, while stroking her hands firmly over my right breast. "Who
knows how this shifting power might affect you? At the very least, it might
leave you with an obstruction in one of the ducts."
"Ducts?" I asked, stupidly.
"Milk ducts," she explained. "Like any
woman, the purpose of your breasts is to produce milk. Please raise your right
arm. Place your hand behind your head."
I couldn't help feeling how I shifted – that is, how my
breast moved – in her hand, as I raised my arm. Now I was higher and a little
flatter on the right than on the left.
She continued the stroking, the rubber glove feeling odd on
my sensitive skin. Then she reached my areola and nipple. She took my nipple
in her fingers and began to squeeze gently, rolling it between her thumb and
finger, and then squeezing again. Although my eyes shot wide, I tried to stay
in my seat and show little reaction. I think I did well, despite the fact that
a not-unattractive woman was feeling me up in ways that no man should ever be
felt up.
"Good. No problems there. Now for the left breast.
Raise your left arm."
Again she performed that too-intimate stroking.
"Excellent. And, although girls all develop at
different rates, you are certainly showing plenty of breast development for a
fifteen-year-old girl. And from an aesthetic sense, so far as the boys are
concerned, you have a good shape, you're about equal on both sides, and have no
trace of sag – not that I'd expect any at your age."
I breathed out in relief that it was all over.
"You can lie down now."
I did, falling back on the bench. That hadn't been nearly
as bad as I'd feared. And those nice comments she'd made at the end were
somehow almost comforting.
She picked up my left foot, raising my knee and setting the
leg and foot down in a holder that I had not previously noticed.
"Wh-what are you doing?" I demanded, in sudden
alarm.
"Finishing the exam, of course." She now took my
right foot, and strapped it in. "The stirrups will hold you open, so I
can conduct the examination. You may cover yourself on top, if you wish."
I quickly complied, while trying to reign in my terror. I
was now lying on my back, with my knees drawn up, but my legs spread wide.
About as far wide as I could go. I looked down in desperation, realizing that
I had to peer between the twin mounds of my breasts to see her. I couldn't see
exactly, but she was sitting down and swinging a light into position. Then she
reached toward me.
I swallowed, again and again, my fingers clawing into the
leather of the examination couch. Then she *touched* me. I could feel her
hands, her fingers, as she moved through my privacy, my secrecy, my most
personal area. She was touching my folds, touching the skin over that
strangely-sensitive bump, touching my vulnerabilities, pulling me open.
"Surprisingly clean. No trace of yeasts or other
concerns. I suspect that your shapechanging has something to do with that."
Her fingers moved down. "Vaginal opening appears
normal, if somewhat tightly closed. Don't worry, we have jelly for that."
Her hands moved up, touching me in ways that were far too
intimate.
"Urethra is fine and clear from blockage. Clitoral
hood… appears normal. Clitoris has the proper size and appearance."
Her hands finally withdrew. I looked down, between my
breasts again.
She had something long and metal in her hands, and appeared
to be greasing it up.
"Oh, god, no!"
"I'll make this as painless as possible," she
said, not reassuring in the least. "But I have to take a pap smear, and I
need to examine both your vagina and cervix."
"Please don't do this!" I could actually feel my
eyes tearing up.
"Rogue, whatever your memories are telling you, you
*are* a woman. You need to be examined. Particularly after what you've been
through."
Again her hands touched me, pulling me open. Then I felt
things. First, a gloved finger, covered with something cold and slick. Her
finger poked INTO me. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was all just to make
way for THAT HORRIBLE THING. The metal. She'd been warming it in hot water,
but it was still cold, and covered with some kind of grease. And then… I felt
it slide INTO me. I yelled, and would have lifted off the table if my legs
hadn't been strapped down. Oh yes, I was also held firm in one other location,
as well.
"Don't be such a big baby. I've had this done, too,
you know. It isn't that bad. Alright, this may feel a bit strange, I'm going
to open it up a bit."
She did something and that metal thing grew larger. There
in that impossible opening that I shouldn't even have, it was stretching me
open in a way that my male mind could not cope with. The couldn't be happening
to me!
"Vaginal walls are in good shape. I'm surprised to see
that you still have your hymen. It's surprisingly thick, but not worrisome.
Still, your first time may be painful. I could go ahead and cut it now, if you'd
like."
"NO!" I shouted at her.
"Calm down. Just thought I should offer. Still, you
should be aware of it, when you decide to become sexually active." She
snorted to herself. "Sorry, forgot for a moment who I was talking to."
I wasn't sure if she meant Rogue-who-couldn't-touch, or me,
the man-with-a-vagina.
"Alright, I won't get past that hymen, so I'll open
here and try to take a smear through the gap. There may be some discomfort."
Again, I nearly levitated off my seat, as that damned metal
thing opened wide inside me. I looked down to see Dr. McTaggart taking a
cotton swap on a stick that was nearly nine inches long.
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked, in
a higher pitch than I had intended.
"Pap smear."
"That won't fit inside *me*."
"Oh, no?"
I couldn't see, exactly, but it looked like she passed it
between my legs, and then up inside. I gulped, trying to ignore the
implications. I felt a jiggle, deep within. Then, a moment later, something
touched me, practically at my center. It felt like she was poking me in the
navel, almost, but from the inside. Not quite the navel. It was my *center*.
More deep within, more intimate than I had ever imagined.
"Yeah, there's the cervix. Can't really get a good
view, but I can manage a swab."
It was finally dawning on me that she was touching MY
cervix. That these were parts of MY body.
"There. That's good. Now a few swabs of your vaginal
mucous…"
There were more touches, not as deep, but definitely in ME.
In that part. In a womanly area that was so secret that even I couldn't see
it.
"And that should do it. Congratulations, you're done.
Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
It was with immense relieve that I felt that metallic horror
slide *out* of me. Even with it gone, I felt an uncomfortable awareness of an
area that I didn't even want to think about. But I couldn't help *feeling*
that part of me, as I sat up again.
She looked at me cheerfully. "I haven't done the lab
work, but based on the inspection so far, you're fully cleared, and ready to
resume life as a female."
I looked at her in confusion, still too dazed to begin
dressing. Is it any wonder that I was still disoriented? "What are you
talking about?"
She gave me the stern look. "I know that Charles spoke
about this with you. Your obligation to him for the work he just did. The
elements searching for 'Jerry Tratwick.' Rogue's long-term health. All of
these require that Jerry vanish. This –" she gestured at my barely-clad
body "—proves that you have both the ability and the psychological
readiness. So we will give you until Monday. You can make whatever
psychological preparations you need, and that will also allow you to withdraw
from school without attracting so much attention."
I sat there on the edge of the bed, feeling the alien weight
of Rogue's breasts on my chest. Feeling a throbbing down below, where I
shouldn't have any of the parts that I was currently feeling. I sat there,
terrified of the things I was feeling and experiencing – things that couldn't
possibly be me.
"I can't – You aren't serious!"
"Charles and I are in complete agreement. Maybe you
will refuse to honor your promise to him. But one way or another, by Monday
evening, 'Jerry' will vanish and you resume a female form. Full time."
Continued in Chapter 14, " Desperately male " appearing NEXT Sunday!
since 04/20/03
