X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 16: Goodbye Charlie…er, Jerry
I'd skipped training to attend my final checkup with Dr.
McTaggart. My final as "Jerry." Now, my head stuffed full of
hypnotic compulsions and images, I could feel my body ready to change. I was
trembling, desperately holding my current shape while I snuck upstairs to the
privacy of the bathroom.
I was terrified, and at the same time, trembling with
eagerness. I think "the girl" was thrilled that she was not only
about to return to her proper gender, but she was about to have the body of her
dreams. Well, the combined dreams of me and Madison Avenue. Close enough.
I was less eager to surrender my manhood, but I had
promised. I owed Charles, and he demanded that Jerry go. But it felt like
death.
And over it all, my body trembled with the suppressed need
to *shift*.
I finally made it to the bathroom and slammed and locked the
door. With a thought, my clothes vanished, and I turned to face the mirror. I
was going to do this slowly, controlled, unemotional. I looked at myself in
the mirror: Young, male, age fifteen or sixteen, slight stubble of a beard,
looking quite fit. Good biceps, nicely developing arm muscles.
That seemed like a safe place to start. I had to take this
slow and easy. First, I thought the beard away. It wasn't part of the
body-shift anyway – I had created it deliberated for my own satisfaction and
self-image. In any case, the power that shaped clothing reached to the hairs
embedded in the pores of my face and eliminated them, utterly disintegrating
them even inside the follicle.
That went okay. I felt my face. Smooth. It was a another
perk of the shapeshifting powers that I'd never have to worry about shaving.
One thought and I had a better shave than you could imagine. I could put it
back just as easily, which I almost did, before discipline clamped down.
I had to finish this before the rest of the team finished
training. I had to present them with a fait accompli. The arms seemed safe.
I let them relax, falling into Rogue's scrawny arms. I gulped, looking at the
strange picture in the mirror. Rogue was shorter than I was, so shouldn't her
arms be much smaller? Ignoring it, I pressed on….
The legs were next. This was harder, at least in a
psychological sense. Women's legs are more…shapely than men's legs. Even
Rogue's skanky poles were no exception. I let the change wash over me and
looked down to see the undeniably female legs. Now my torso and head looked
strange, supported by thin, slightly shrunken arms and legs. I let the control
lapse over most of my torso, keeping a hold only on certain notable regions.
This was much more noticeable in the mirror-image. My torso
suddenly blurred and shifted, shoulders and ribs suddenly collapsing in, waist
moving way in, hips expanding out. My chest hair also vanished, although I don't
recall doing that consciously.
We were getting down to the telling part. I had worn this
form before, so what was the problem? But there was a difference
psychologically. Never before had the change been a permanent commitment.
Never before had I been giving up my manhood – perhaps forever.
I looked at my chimeric body in the mirror. All that
remained was the head, the chest, and…down below. I was already most of the
way there. I think that the subconscious resistance I'd had for all these
weeks had already given up, because it was immensely hard to hold my shape.
The subconscious compulsion that forced me into Gerard Trautwein's shape was
gone. I felt things slipping. Looking down in terror, I saw my manhood began
to dwindle, slowly shrinking, about to vanish forever.
NO! I clamped down with my tentative control, clamped down
harder than I ever have before. I WOULD NOT CHANGE! And as I exerted all my
willpower, something different happened. It wasn't a click, it wasn't a mash,
it was pushing things too far, so that they came up against the other side. I
don't know how else to describe it.
Suddenly, I wasn't changing any more. I looked at myself in
the mirror. I was half-a-girl. My face was a supremely unattractive meld
between my face and Rogue's – somehow simultaneously unfeminine and
unmasculine. My breasts were just budding, slightly larger than my training-bra
size. And my penis was only an inch long. It protruded from a cleft – the
swell of the labial lips that my scrotum has turned into.
What had I done? I was now a worse freak than ever! I
tried relaxing…nothing. I tried tensing up…which seemed to work. At first, as
I "tensed the muscles" I shifted back into 'Jerry', but my mind got
confused and I began to move into a different form, but then I turned back to
Jerry, but then I shifted again. I quickly relaxed, before the whiplash could
hurt me. After relaxing, I was back in my half-way form again.
I looked at the clock on the wall. *Training would be out
in ten minutes!* I thought desperately, trying to figure my way out of this.
I remembered clamping down, harder than ever before. Perhaps
if I started there and eased my way out…
I tried again. I clamped, pressing hard (nothing) harder
(nothing) as hard as I could – finally something seemed to come unstuck.
Holding carefully, I gradually eased my way back down, gradually releasing my
hold on this shape.
I felt the breasts growing on my chest, as the twin weights
began to pull at me. I felt the last of my penis slip away between the outer
folds of my female sex. It was gone. I was a girl. I looked up in the mirror
to see Rogue's face atop Rogue's scarecrow of a body.
Not quite realizing what I was doing, I wrapped my arms
around my chest. This was better than being stuck as a halfway thing, but I
didn't want this! I was not Rogue, and I wouldn't BE her! Not EVER.
I closed my eyes, and even though I'm not religious, I
prayed. I prayed to my angel, or perhaps I prayed *for* my angel. I prayed
for a chance to be a girl on my own terms. I gathered the images in my mind's
eye, tried to focus on the hypnotic commands that Moira had given to me, and
concentrated on the girl of *my* choice. Then, tensing the power, I changed.
I felt it working. This time, it was divine. Flesh flowed,
shrinking here, growing there. I felt my other powers activating, changing my
hair, altering color and length and even the arrangement. The shape trembled,
complete, and I grabbed hold and held it. Scarcely daring, I opened my eyes
and looked in the mirror.
I gasped in wonder, and the girl in the mirror echoed my
action. She was perfect. Her nose was the slightest bit off – then it blurred
and was perfect, too. Her long honey-blonde hair hung down to the small of her
back, full and straight except for the beginning of a loose curl as it reached
the end. Her eyes were wide and the deepest blue, her skin flawless, both her
lips full and sensual. Her neck was long and slightly narrow. Her waist was
likewise narrow, contrasting sharply to the flare of her hips. Her legs seemed
to go on forever, almost half her body length, long and perfectly curved, the
thigh and calf almost sculpted. But probably what most men would notice first
were her surprisingly large D-sized breasts, impossibly standing firm on their
own with virtually no trace of sag.
I gave myself a cute crinkle-nosed smile, practicing the
expression. Then a wide-eyed smile, practicing that. She was perfect. And
now…was it possible? I clamped down, trying to duplicate the new technique
that I'd found, squeezing, squeezing…and once again it 'slipped through'
somehow bumping back up against the other side. Those are the best words I can
find. The power was locked, the form was locked. Almost afraid to try, I
slowly let go.
The impossibly good-looking girl in the mirror remained,
smiling in wonder. I felt myself falling in love with me. For the first time
since the incident with Mystique, the different parts of my mind were happily
in alignment. We all loved this body, and we were thrilled that we could keep
it without living through the daily headache.
I noticed the clock on the wall. Only three minutes!
Quickly I ran my attention over my body. So much to do! I
eliminated the pit hair, "shaved" my legs. I decided to give a "bikini
trim" to the hair on my mound. There was certainly no time to spend
learning makeup – that would have to come later. But I'd better get dressed
before Kurt decided to "pop in" for a shower. I giggled, not even
trying to halt the girlish mannerism, wondering what he'd think of his new
sister.
There was barely time to get dressed. But for once, I didn't
want to materialize the clothes in place. This body, this delightful body,
deserved to be dressed slowly and deliberately.
My panties were white satin, very high cut, and they needed
my bikini trim. I pulled them up until they were deliciously snug, and admired
the fit.
Next was a push-up bra. Not that I needed a push-up with
these assets, but I needed the style of the low-cut cups to show off the flesh
I planned to display. It took some limber fishing to fasten all three hooks
behind me, but when I finally pulled the shoulder straps up and into place, I
blessed the inventor of the brassiere. It felt *really good* being held firm,
held up, and restrained. The jiggle had been entertaining enough to start
with, but I knew I'd be growing tired of it pretty damn quickly.
I slipped into a faded denim miniskirt with a thin leather
belt, then pulled on a white sleeveless scoopneck cashmere sweater – very tight
and ending just half an inch above my bellybutton. And the sinfully soft
fabric felt sensually delightful against the sensitive skin of my back and
belly. Finally, I pulled on a light blue long-sleeved cotton overshirt to top
that. It was a deliberately sloppy look, but I hoped it all matched well
enough. Before I forgot, I whipped up a pair of white deck shoes. Finally, a
quick brushing of my hair and I was ready.
Taking a deep breath to steady my pounding heart, I headed
out to test my first few minutes of girlhood. We'd see what kind of impression
I made.
I opened the bathroom door and headed down toward the dining
room.
"…no, another day or two should be fine," Charles'
voice came echoing up the stairs.
"You sure?" 'Rogue' asked. "I could hang
around this crazy crew for another week or two, if you want. It's been kind of
fun, in a low key way. My jobs are usually a lot more stressful."
"No," Charles continued. "Rogue and I agreed
that she would return to female form starting this evening."
"We did," I said in my new soprano, "but we
didn't say anything about *which* female form."
I rounded the stairs and stepped in on a discussion in
progress. Jackie was talking to Charles, with Logan standing silently in the
background. Scott and Kurt were on their way past, heading upstairs it looked
like. I had the great pleasure of seeing jaws drop all around, including
Charles'.
"R—Rogue? Is that you?" Kurt asked.
"Silly boy! Don't you remember? I'm Angel Quinn,
Jerry Tratwick's replacement." I kissed him on the fuzzy cheek before he
could react, then spun around to face Jackie. "Surely you'd recognize me
if I were your own dear sister. Really, who could mistake the *lovely* cleft
chin, or the beanpole arms and legs, or that cute li'l skunk-head hairdo?
Honestly, do I look anything like that?" I looked at him and blinked my
cutest at him.
It was a roomful of open mouths, with all of them too
stunned to react. Only Jackie had the sense to reply to me. "Yeah, maybe
all that stuff you say about me is true, or maybe it's just a point of view.
Still, there's something to be said for honesty in packaging. At least Ah know
who Ah really am."
"Hmph!" I stuck my nose into the air and
announced, "I left my bag on the front steps when I arrived. I'll just
pick it up, and if Miss Moody here can show me to my new room, I'll be happy to
start moving in. That guy, Jerry whats-his-name, already took off. He grabbed
my cab, since it was here, and beat it out of here. I guess he must have
already said his goodbyes, huh?"
Jackie looked at me like she was suddenly relishing the
challenge. "In character, huh? Ah'm game. Provided that Charles is
willing to keep you on the payroll for this, Jackie."
Gauntlet thrown, and accepted. I smiled at her and nodded.
"That sounds just super! So why'd you call me Jackie? I told you, my
name is Angel." I held out my hands. Belatedly, I realized that there
was no buzzing in my head so my touch was dangerous. But 'Rogue' always wore
gloves and kept covered. She was maybe the only one around that I *could*
touch. 'Rogue' reached to take my hand, before stopping, thinking about how
she should react, and then following through anyway. I took her hand and
pulled her away toward the front of the mansion. Inside I was snickering.
This was going to be *fun*!
For the first time since I'd been dumped into this strange
new life, it felt like *I* was in control. It was a feeling that I liked.
I held out my hand to keep Rogue in place while I stepped
out to pick up my 'bag.' Once out of sight, I quickly whipped up a green
canvas duffel bag (I must admit to using my long-gone army bag as a model),
stuffed with wads of fluffy cotton for shape and bulk. I pretended to heft it,
then came back inside. Rogue narrowed her eyes at me.
"You really have a bag, huh? Nice touch. It'll keep
Kitty guessing, at the very least."
"Kitty?" I asked. "Pet, or girl?"
"Your new roommate," Rogue told me. "She has
the first bed, you…Ah mean *Ah* have the far bed, and you as the new girl, get
the roll-away." She gave me an evil grin.
"Sounds great!" I gushed, while cursing inside.
Darn that little weasel!
As we headed up the stairs, I was distracted by working on
the contents of my duffel bag. As fast as I could, I was replacing the fluffy
cotton filler with bras, panties, nightgowns, skirts, blouses, and so on. It
was adding considerably to the weight of the bag and starting to tire me out.
I didn't really notice when Rogue stopped.
"Oops!" she said, not sounding the list bit
apologetic. "Ah must have taken a wrong turn. And since there's no way
you could have known the proper direction, Ah guess you just followed me."
"Yeah, isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" I
only had to think a moment before answering, then Rogue's dodge became apparent.
I think I passed this one. I realized belatedly that everyone has their own
style of training. I was probably (and unofficially) now signed up for extra
hours training under 'Rogue.'
"Here we are. Ah guess Ah can clean out the bottom two
dresser drawers for you to use. Ah'm just going to be glad to get my own stuff
back again."
As she walked into the room, Kitty looked up, in the middle
of picking out clothes to wear after her shower. "Hey! Rogue? Is that
really you? They were talking about Jerry going this evening, but I thought at
least…" She spotted me.
I realized suddenly that Kitty was going to want to clasp
hands or make some similar gesture. What was I going to do? I needed to shift
something and hold it. Anything. Perhaps my left hand, perhaps I could shift
it back to Jerry's shape, or push back to my natural form.
Kitty stared at me. "Rogue? Or are you…" she
turned again to Jackie. "Okay, who's who?"
I could force my hand to shift back to "normal".
I felt the good old buzzing in my head. Hiding that hand behind my back, I
reached forward with the other to clasp hands.
"Hi! I'm Angel Quinn, formerly of Ohio now a student
at the prestigious Xavier Institute. Professor X told me that I'd be replacing
a student of his who just left – Jerry Tratwick?"
Kitty looked back and forth in confusion between the two of
us. "Okay, I'll play along. Yeah, Jerry's gone now. You can have –"
"Ah'm keeping my own bed, and that's final!" Rogue
said. "Miss Abundant Personality here can have the roll-away."
"Fine with me," I said. "Anything's welcome,
after Ohio."
"Ohio?" Kitty asked, oddly.
"Yeah. I have this…knack…I guess you'd call it.
Professor X says that it's actually a mutant ability. I'll probably have to
pick a superhero code-name and everything. Maybe I'll call myself 'Squeak.'
Anyway, I can touch machines and things and cause them to operate smoother, or
I can reverse it and make them run rough or stop. But I kind of got in a little
bit of trouble, people would start blaming me whenever something broke, and my
parents thought I might do better out here. Anyway, do *all* of you guys have
some special ability or something?"
Rogue crossed her arms under her breasts and looked disgusted.
"Oh sure. Ah got the ability to never touch anyone. That's just so
wonderful Ah could scream."
Kitty was looking from me to Rogue and back again. "Okay
guys, this isn't funny! What's going on?"
"Wow," I said, "is your code-name 'Hysteria'
or something like that? 'Cause it looks like you're about to blow a gasket!"
I hefted my duffle bag up onto the roll-away bed. "Did you say I could
have a couple of drawers in that dresser?"
The "lubricate / roughen" ability had been a
spur-of-the-moment idea. I could certainly materialize something like a
low-grade vegetable oil. It probably wouldn't be very good in a demanding
application. Likewise, I'm sure I could materialize fine calcium-enamel grit
on a machine I could touch, and even a bit inward through the small gaps and
joints. Hmmm, perhaps it would be more effective to create organic fibers that
would gum up existing lubricants…
By now Kitty had grown quieter, watching us both through
narrowed eyes. Rogue pulled clothes out of the bottom two drawers, jamming
them roughly into the top three. Then I squatted down and started to unload my
clothes, trying to be as neat as possible.
"Ah ha!" Kitty shouted in triumph. "It *is*
you, Jerry, or Gerard, or Rogue, or Angel, or whatever I should call you! It's
*you*!"
"What are you talking about?" I was wondering how
I'd given myself away.
"No girl on earth would squat like that! A *real* girl
always keeps her legs together! You haven't been wearing skirts for very long,
have you?"
"I mostly just wore pants, back in Ohio," I said,
hastily bringing my legs together. "Anyway, what are you talking about?
How could I be four different people? Two of them were guys! And 'Rogue' isn't
even a name, it's just a description."
Beside me, Rogue just hmph'ed and crossed her arm, standing
in that skewed-hip stance that just shouts "don't mess with me."
But Kitty had a gleeful grin. "Okay, if you're really
some girl named Angel Quinn, where'd you grow up?"
"Springfield, Ohio." That seemed safe. There was
a Springfield everywhere, wasn't there?
"Parents names?" "June and David Quinn."
"Brothers or sisters?" "Three brothers.
Robert, Sam, and Fred." I wasn't sure how long I could keep this up.
"Pets?" "Lots of dogs. German shepherds."
"Favorite color?" "Blue."
"Social security number?" "Oh, I can never
remember that. I have to look it up."
"Middle sister's name?" Damn, what had I said? "Sally,
like I said."
Kitty made a gun out of her finger and thumb. "Bang.
Gotcha. You said you had three *brothers*."
I hung my head while Rogue laughed at me. "Not bad for
a beginner. Still, I guess we'll have to work out details for you before
school tomorrow. Get ready for a pile of memorization. It's boring, it hardly
ever comes up, but it's part of the job. Welcome to 'Spying 101.'"
"I knew it!" Kitty said smugly.
"Okay, you got me, smartie. But you have to help me,
okay? You should have seen the guys in the hall. They were stunned. I mean,
they knew all about the shapeshifting stuff, and it still took them a while to
believe it. I think we should play with their minds some more at dinner
tonight, and you can help me, okay?"
"Uh," Rogue corrected, "I don't think it was
the whole 'new student' act that had them stunned. It was the hooters."
I looked down, realizing that I'd never see my feet again. "You
think so?"
"Yeah, probably," Kitty said. "I mean, like,
isn't that a bit over the top? What did you do, cut and paste from models in
Cosmo or something?"
I stared at her in shock. "How did you know?"
She pouted. "How could you do this to me? First it's
Jean-the-perfect-girl, now I'm rooming with a super model."
"Oh, come on, Kitty!" I said. "How can you
complain? You're the cutest girl in school!"
"Really?" She looked slightly mollified, but wasn't
ready to give up her sulk yet. "Still, I'd rather be stacked than 'cute.'
How am I supposed to compete with *those*?" She pointed toward my chest.
"Oh, come on, Kitty! You've got personality! You have
brains, looks, and everyone wants to just protect you and be your friend."
"Great, I can be the spunky kid sidekick to Wonder
Woman."
I collapsed onto my bed. "I'm sorry, Kitty." I'd
never intended this. I'd been think that if I had to be a girl, I would be one
who could be proud of herself. By virtue of my body, I wouldn't need
confidence of my own, my shape would supply all the confidence necessary. And
I hadn't even thought of how the other girls might react to me. What did they
see me as? A caricature? A sex-toy joke? But I'd just taken an amalgam of
commercial models. Surely the models weren't that out of line with real women,
were they? And if the products were sold to women, the shapes couldn't be
offensive to women, could they?
"I'm sorry." I said again. "I'll…I'll come
up with something else. I wasn't going to stay this way for good, just a
couple of weeks, until I got used to being a girl. Just, just don't make me
look like *that*." I pointed toward Rogue.
"Hey," Rogue said, "Ah'd be offended if Ah
didn't really know how pathetic and tragic this whole scene is." She
jerked a thumb back at herself. "First, the Rogue don't take shit from
nobody! Not even you, got it? Second, Ah've got *style*. Ah'm *real*, not
some plastic surgery dream spread! Third, the Rogue has confidence in
herself. She may be in on the sick joke of a world that we live in, but she's
confident enough to stand up for herself and what she believes in. If she has
to do that alone, then that's the way it goes. So just *fuck you,* bitch! You
don't have what it takes to be the Rogue!"
I stood there and stared at her, my eyes slowly filling with
tears. Was she serious? Kitty looked equally stunned.
"Heh," 'Rogue' said, only I knew it was really
Jackie this time. "Amateurs. You think I've just been relaxing these
past couple of weeks? I've been learning who Rogue really is. Bit of a loner,
but the girl's got some wicked attitude. And I was serious about everything I
said, even if it came across a little harsh. You aren't ready to be Rogue
yet. Hell, look at you. You barely even know what it means to be a real girl."
She turned and smirked at Kitty. "Think of it this way, Kitten. Take an
old geezer biologist, throw in a pile of insecurity, and then stuff him into
*that* package. Result: crash course in female studies."
Kitty nodded and then slowly began to grin. And then to
giggle. "Oh, this is going to be, like, too much!"
I was suddenly worried. "Okay, what are you talking
about?"
Rogue was circling around me, her hand cupped under her
chin, as if contemplating an interesting problem. "Well, here's the deal,
Trix. I've been telling you all along about Mystique's powers – the advantages
and disadvantages. See, the thing is, you've been a girl all along. Remember
the shape-lock when you ovulated? But I don't think you ever really *accepted*
that you're a girl, right? Maybe part of you, but deep down, you're still
resisting. Then you go and whip up a slobber-banquet body like that. Kitty's
right. It's over the top. Not as if the guys would be bothered by that. But
from now on, every eye will be on you, knowing, seeing, reminding you that you
are *extremely* female. Every move and jiggle that body makes will be telling
you that you're female. Shit, Toots, you're about the most female girl in the
whole damn city. And every girl and especially every guy will remind you of
that fact constantly. So maybe Kitty 'n' me get lost in the shadow cast by
those huge perfect hooters. After a week or two, I think you'll be more than
ready to go back to being Rogue. Hell, if you're lucky, maybe you'll be able
to pick up a little of the attitude you're going to need."
"I should have my head examined," Kitty announced.
"What?" Rogue said. I was still reeling too much
to respond.
"Well," Kitty said, "I never thought that I'd,
like, miss Rogue. And now I'm planning to take a perfectly normal person,"
she looked at me, "well, you know what I mean, and I'm going to help make
her, you know, more *Rogue*. It's just kind of twisted, isn't it?"
"Shapeshifters are always twisted," Rogue told
her. "It comes with the territory. The question is, if she's going to
eventually be Rogue, what should 'Angel' be like?"
"I don't know," Kitty said. To my alarm, she
sounded like she was really getting into this. "She could be sort of
half-way attitudinal. You know, maybe just a bit sour. Sort of halfway Rogue."
"Hey," I finally told them, "I *am* in the
room, you know."
"I don't know," Rogue said.
"I say we go totally the other way," Kitty said,
excitedly. "Super cheerful, naive, always volunteering, can't stand being
a loner. She'll do anything to be popular and with other people."
"Careful when you say 'anything,'" Rogue
cautioned. "Remember, 'Angel' can't help being a bit naive about being a
girl."
Kitty snorted. "No one's *that* innocent."
"What?" Kitty was calling *me* naive? That was
too much.
"Okay," Kitty said, "picture this. You're
sitting on a bench in the park. A guy sits next to you and compliments your
smile. Does he want to (a) meet a stranger, (b) get to know you, (c) engage in
conversation with a possible friend, or (d) have sex with you?"
"Uh…" I couldn't believe *Kitty* was asking me
this. "…I'd say (b) or (d)."
Rogue smirked as she replied. "For either Kitty or me,
it could be any of them. For you, looking like that, the answer will *always*
be (d)."
"Yeah," Kitty said, "she's right. Sorry.
You're going to scare away any of the normal guys. I'm starting to get a bad
feeling about this. Are you sure you can protect yourself? What if, I don't
know, what if you're walking home and six guys jump you? We should probably do
a Danger Room on that before we let you out in public."
I nodded, starting to get worried. I'd been a target as
Jerry – had I jumped out of the frying pan, only to land in the fire? "Okay,
set it up and we'll do it tomorrow. In the meantime…" I focused my
attention, remembering the shape of a cat-girl. I only changed my hand, and
mostly only my fingertips. I held up a set of sharp claws. "This should
discourage them."
*****
Something as simple as peeing continued to be a challenge.
I'd been doing it for three days as a girl, you'd think I'd have something that
simple mastered. You sit and flex your legs apart. Flexing just *so* pulls
wide the little folds you have down there and lets you shoot a stream straight
out. Doing it wrong (as I had done on the first day) leaves you with messy
spray all over the place and little dribbles leaking down your leg. It's not a
simple point-and-shoot, like guys have.
Trick two, as I had also discovered, was "how to wipe."
Should I just pat myself dry, content to dry off the outer lips of my labia, or
should I spread wide and really wipe out all the little folds? It turns out
that just patting off my labia always leaves a drip or three in the panties.
The answer turns out to be sort of half-and-half. You pat the outside, then
flex the knees out, and give a little wipe to the inside. But it doesn't stop
there….
Trick three is which *direction* to wipe. It turns out that
we girls have a vulnerable pathway to infection called "the vagina."
Urine is (usually) both clean and fairly sterile, so wiping front to back wipes
cleansing fluid past the vulnerable opening. On the other hand, there is a
dirtier opening which is far too close to the vulnerable vagina. Wiping
back-to-front and getting even a tiny trace of feces into the vagina is a
definite no-no and a minor health risk.
I don't recall having to worry about "that area"
at all when I was a guy. Now there were *rules* I had to follow!
And it didn't stop there. Trick four (and this was a new
one) was doing it in a skirt. The panties go down while the skirt goes up. So
one hand is holding all your clothing while the other hand is busy cleaning you
off AND, as I mentioned earlier, there's that vulnerable area. You definitely
do not want germs getting in there. So letting the panties touch the floor is
a definite no no, so the legs have to be positioned just right. This makes
peeing a slightly acrobatic activity.
And the last trick (so far) was trick five. That is: how to
do all of the above then your breasts are large enough that you can't see what
you're doing, and they get in the way if you bend over or try to reach around.
It was frustrating enough that I was tempted to use the old
mutant powers to dry myself off. But I thought that if I was so useless as a
girl that I couldn't even wipe myself off, that I might as well just end things
right now, because I was too hopeless to go on living.
Finally (after significant contortions) I managed not only
to wipe myself dry, but also to pull both my panties and skirt back in place.
Thank God I wasn't wearing panty hose.
*****
Dinner was beef stew with rolls. Evan was on one end of the
table, Scott and Wolverine were on the other. I mention this because of how
things began to develop through the meal…
Kurt was straight across from me, and he kept trying to talk
to me, but he'd get confused and lose his place. Actually, he wasn't staring
at my face, he was staring about twelve inches lower. It seemed like every
time I inhaled he forgot what he was saying. And once when I leaned back to
work a kink in my lower back, he dropped his fork. At first I thought it was
sort of cute. There was the whole forbidden aspect. True, he was my brother,
but I was still not completely over my feelings for him.
That caused me to pause. I had feelings for him? Even more
surprising, I was *admitting*, even in the privacy of my own mind, that I had
feelings for him? Feeling guiltily, I glanced at our two telepaths. Jean had
a mild frown that she was directing toward Scott, while Charles seemed to be
examining the front of my sweater.
Oh, Charles, not you too!
How did I feel about being in love with Kurt? (With a man?
Yes, admit it.) In love? Well, maybe it was just a very strong crush. Maybe
that was sour grapes, and I was trying to convince myself that it was only a
crush. Harder to admit, even now, was how much I wanted to touch him. I had
kissed him once, and run my fingers through his soft, sensual fur. What would
it be like to feel that fur rubbing me all over? I felt a tightening at the
tips of my breasts and realized that everyone could see. Even worse, everyone
was looking! I wracked my mind, searching for a distraction.
Kurt dropped his spoon this time. Evan started choking on
his bread.
"You must need more bread!" I said, brightly. I
grabbed the basket (to my right) and passed it toward Evan (to my left). Too
bad my arm stopped halfway there. Swinging my arm across, I'd forgotten that
there was a rather large obstruction in the way. "Oops." Passing
the basket *under*, I handed it off to Ororo. Of course, once freed, my pert
little breast (okay, pert huge breast) bobbed back into place. I could
actually feel the two of them jiggling for a moment.
God how embarrassing.
"Actually," Scott said, "I need the bread
down at this end of the table."
Ororo handed me the basket. I was careful to grab with my
left hand this time, but forgot again and reached straight across toward Kitty,
sitting on my right. Mashing into myself from the left side this time. "Oops."
I passed the basket under, again, feeling myself jiggle back into equilibrium.
"I never got my roll!" Evan yelled.
This time I coordinated the job. Accept from Kitty with the
right hand, underhand pass to the left hand, left hand passes to Ororo. I was
so relieved afterward that I relaxed and took a deep breath in relief.
"Pass that back when you're done," Logan said.
"Arggg!" Jean had finally had too much. With a
hand gesture, she floated the basket over the table and into Logan's hands.
Jean just stared at me in irritation and finally snapped out, "Men!"
before turning her head decisively toward her meal.
"Heh, heh. Good stew, isn't it?" I said, trying
in vain to cover the unpleasant moment. I reached toward the center of the
table to grab the stew bowl, for seconds. That is, I stretched my arms forward
and leaned forward slightly. Which pressed my breasts straight into my dinner
plate.
Damn.
*****
"I don't know," I said, pulling a chemise out of
the bottom drawer. "I don't think Jean's going to join us."
Kitty was just slipping into her pajamas. They actually
looked more lavender hospital scrubs, about two sizes too large for her.
Jackie – or rather, 'Rogue' – was pulling on my favorite green-and-orange
nightshirt. I pulled out a new nightgown.
"I think Jean, like, totally lost it when Evan offered
to help clean you off," Kitty suggested.
"Yeah," I agreed. "As if I *wanted* to have
him pawing all over me." I finished pulling the lavender chemise over my
head. It had a crossover design the held each breast in a separate little
sling. I adjusted the fit until everything felt in place, then gave a little
wiggle to make sure I stayed in place. "There. How's that?"
"My God," Rogue said, "I can't believe those
things are self-supporting."
"You know," Kitty was cupping her hands under her
own young breasts, "I used to wish I was bigger. But now after seeing all
the trouble you're having, I think I can wait for a while."
"You've got to be kidding!" I said. "You're
*perfect*! You're so cute I can't believe it."
"Oh, right. You probably chose that look, didn't you?
So why didn't you go for the cute-but-flat look, huh?"
"I don't know. I don't think I could carry it off,
being you." I gestured at myself. "With this body, most of the
personality, at least what people notice, *is* the body. With you, it's your
personality that makes you so fabulous. The way you talk, the way you walk,
your gestures and expressions. It's too tough; I couldn't do it. Maybe
someday." I shrugged. Now that I wasn't wearing a bra, shrugging lead to
a whole series of strange jiggles on my chest. "But I think I'm happy
like this. I mean, for all the problems I'm having, 'Angel Quinn' is probably
a pretty good choice for my first venture as a girl. Even if I do make some
mistakes, most people will never notice because they'll be so busy watching my
boobs."
"Frightening," Rogue said. "That almost made
sense."
It was a bit different, falling asleep. I'd gotten used to
having Jean over while we talked about things, and I missed that. It was also
strange to have a different bed and to see 'Rogue' in my bed. But it had been
a very long day emotionally, and I was plenty tired. I rolled over onto my
stomach, which is the way I usually fall asleep.
It is *not* possible to fall asleep while lying face-down on
a pair of D-sized breasts. First off, it hurts. You also get a crick in your
neck. I rolled over onto my back. That was actually a lot better, since it
finally gave some relief to my back. My breasts were a bit distracting,
though, since they tried to fall in different directions – left and right,
respectively. It also felt like my butt was on top of a pillow. I rolled onto
my side. You know, even held in the little sling-cups of my chemise, my
breasts still had a tendency to flop around, particularly as I rolled over.
This was *not* comfortable. So I lay on my side, acutely conscious of my left
boob lying on top of my right boob. But now my hips were causing problems.
Guy-hips are nice for sleeping: the proper width, and if you lie on your side
your torso, waist, hips, and legs are all properly positioned. You can keep
your spine straight and everything works. But girl-hips are too damn wide, and
that stupid girl-waist is too narrow, so it ends up that your hips try to cock
at an angle, and your torso isn't supported at all.
After more squirming, I finally found a position where I was
about a quarter face-down, hugging a pillow (with one breast on one side, and
the other breast on the other side – very important), lower leg held straight
and upper leg pulled up as high as I could to try to hood over the pillow. It
probably looked stupid as hell, but it was kind of comfortable.
I hoped I didn't have this much trouble sleeping every day.
Continued in Chapter 17, " Heavenly Bodies " appearing NEXT Sunday!
since 05/12/03
