X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 18: Girl's gym
The tide of girls swept through the gym and headed out the
back door to the field. I'd been swept away from Kitty and everyone else I
knew, and was surrounded by a group of girls I didn't know.
"I can't believe we're outside today!"
"Mr. Miller says the cold snap is finally over."
"How is it out there? Do I need to go back for pants?"
"It's not bad. I'm doing shorts."
"Me too."
A short-haired brunette turned to me. "You're new,
aren't you? I'm Cindy."
"Angel," I said, nodding.
"So, were you on any teams where you came from?"
"Not really." At least, not for the last fifty or
sixty years. "I guess I'll do some track work."
A couple of the other girls laughed. "Yeah, knock
yourself out."
"Huh?"
Cindy brought me up to speed. "I don't know about
where you come from, but around here the girls who go in for track are the
loners and losers."
"But I *like* track," I said. It just seemed sort
of appealing, somehow. Running your mind into a blank, pushing your body
harder and harder. I was actually looking forward to it.
"It's definitely no fun."
"*Way* too much work."
"There's no bennies to it," a blonde said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Where's the benefits?" she explained. "Bayville
never places well, even against nearby schools. It's not like you're going to
get trophies or medals or something. For that, you want one of the good team
sports, like basketball."
"Soccer's even better."
"Yeah, but cutthroat. And it's not like the guys are
interested in watching girl's track, so there's no bennies there, either."
I shrugged. "Sorry, girls. I've just got to run."
"Knock yourself out." For some reason, she was
staring at my chest.
Heading toward the track, I was starting to feel a bit
peppy. I'm not sure why, entirely. In my previous life I never was
particularly athletic.
The coach was giving some pointers over at the soccer field,
so I went ahead and joined the four girls and eight guys who were stretching at
the running track. Surprisingly enough, one of them was 'Rogue.' Since she
was just finishing her stretches, I pulled her aside.
"Help me stretch?" I suggested.
"Yeah, whatever."
Once we were slightly away from other ears, I said, "I'm
a bit surprised to find you on the track. It doesn't seem like your style,
somehow."
"It's not," she confirmed. "This is your
fault, you know."
"Me? How?"
"Rogue never goes out for any of the team activities,
she just likes to run herself into a stupor. So now Ah have to exhaust myself
every god-damn day, just to keep up the fucking appearances."
"Too bad you can't figure out how to switch places,"
I said. "I feel like I could use a good run."
She looked at me speculatively. "Seriously? God, Ah
could really stand cutting out. Hey, Angel's a new girl, no one's placed her
in gym yet. Why don't you?"
I looked at her speculatively. "You can't be spotted.
The prof would kill us if that happened. And we need a way to get back into
position afterward."
'Rogue' looked almost insulted. "Hey, I'm a *pro.* If
I fade out of here, no one's going to find me. And I'll just show back up for
my next class. Your only trick is switching from Rogue to Angel – I suggest in
a restroom stall, when no one else is in the room. A closet or empty room
works well, too."
I nodded. "Okay, how do we handle things right now?"
"Nothing simpler. Let's hit the can."
I followed her off the side of the field into the closest
restroom. We checked and ducked inside.
"So," she said, "can you do your thing? Wave
your hand or whatever, and put me back into what I was wearing?"
I nodded and ran my hands up her arms, down her sides and
legs, leaving her earlier outfit behind as my hands passed. The boots were the
worst – I had to stretch to pull in some extra mass.
"God, Ah am so jealous of that ability. Okay, now, do
your stuff."
I nodded, and grabbed the strands of power that pulled me
into different shapes. Yanking it loose, I relaxed, letting my body flow back
into its normal shape. Around me, Angel's bra and shirt sagged as I deflated.
My shorts were loose. With a thought, everything snugged back up again, and the
style changed to match Rogue's earlier outfit. I added the gloves. I even
managed to copy some smudges and rips that I'd noticed a moment before.
"Yeah, you definitely lucked out in the mutant powers
game," she told me. I looked in the mirror to see two Rogues looking back
-- one dressed for school, the other in shorts-and-tights and a long-sleeved
sweatshirt.
"Kind of weird being back in this body," I said.
Since when did my voice have an accent?
"Yeah, it's about time you started getting used to it
again. Anyway, you head out. Ah'll wait and slip away in about five minutes."
I nodded and stomped out of the bathroom.
For some reason, I felt different in this body. Emotionally
different. My attitude was different. I made it to the track and looked at
the other runners. No one bothered trying to talk to me. I understood why: it
wasn't worth the bother, trying to say something to the sullen, ugly girl.
Which is part of what made it so nice to run.
I'd already stretched (even if I'd been in a different body
at the time), now I started on the track. I wasn't trying for speed, I wasn't
even trying for endurance (not deliberately). I was just running. Starting
slow, building up, and then running forever.
The body was half-familiar, half strange. I'd been stuck
mostly this way for three days, but I hadn't had the freedom of being openly
me. Being openly Rogue, I mean. Not me. The hips position was a little off
from Angel's, the legs were long – good for running. The boobs were more
reasonable sized, so I wasn't likely to pummel myself to death. Even so, I
devoted a tiny amount of attention to making my sports bra even tighter. It
helped. And it took a while to find my rhythm. Legs stretching, swallowing
the ground, shoulders swinging back and forth, arms moving for balance. Next
time I'd need to bring weights for my fists. Thinking, I added some wood
inlays to my gloves, but I couldn't add much weight before I was tapped out.
I had the pace. My breathing was in sync with my stride.
My heart was singing as the blood rushed through me. *This* was what I'd felt
calling for me. It wasn't as if I suddenly had tunnel vision. If anything, I
was more aware of the surroundings – I just didn't care. The only thing that
mattered was the path ahead of me and the pattern of my movements.
For that perfect moment, I was at peace. I didn't care
about powers or bodies or shapes or clothes. I didn't care about who I was or
who people expected me to be. I didn't even care about gender or age. I only
cared about the path ahead of me.
As I continued to loop around, I gradually lapped each of
the other runners. They couldn't see it as I sucked and blew, air passing in
and out of my mouth in a smooth flow, but I was smiling. It was a tight smile,
with perhaps a small, nasty edge to it. *Don't mess with me!* The wall of
fatigue was reaching up to claim me, trying to numb my limbs, but I didn't
listen to it, either. I pushed harder, ignoring the wall, keeping the same
pace. Each step pulling me forward, pushing me farther along the path. My
heart was hammering, but it was good. No god-damned wall was going to stop
me. I kept going, ignoring fatigue.
And suddenly, the wall dropped away. I wasn't suddenly
filled with energy, but the weights on my arms and legs seemed to let go. I
wasn't forcing my way through the fatigue any more, I was just moving. I felt
like I could keep running for hours. Maybe it was true. My focus became even
sharper. By now, everyone else was off the track. I had run them all into the
ground. Bastards. Served them right. I was grinning like a shark on the
inside. *Don't ever mess with me!*
"Rogue."
Don't you dare interrupt me. I'm running. I'm free. No
one can bother me while I'm running.
"Go talk her down. I haven't seen her like this for a
while. Make sure she walks it out."
"Aw, coach! You know how long that takes."
"You want to do laps with the rest, Watson?"
"Okay, okay."
About the same time, I heard a crowd hit the track. Yep, it
was mini-jocks. Not the varsity teams, but the lesser jocks that didn't
letter. A lot of them trained during the regular gym class. And like usual,
they'd been dumped onto the track to run laps for that final bit of conditioning.
Too bad, boys. It's my track, and my pace. Which means that you're dog meat.
The front edge of the mass reached me and passed me by.
Their pace was too fast, I'd pass then in two laps, at worst. Another group
came up and paced me.
"Rogue," one of the boys gasped, "coach wants
to see you. He says to wind down and walk it off, then go talk to him."
"Not…yet," it was harder to talk without
interrupting my breathing cycle.
Panting boy gasped out a little more. "He kind of said
he wanted to see you now."
"Not…till…they…give up." I was going to the be
last one off the track. Somehow, it had suddenly turned very important. This
was one thing that was all mine. No stupid mutant powers, no amount of "charm"
or personality, nothing to do with makeup or fancy clothes. This place was
MINE and I wasn't going to give it up. I would win or die.
"Damn you," he puffed, finally dropping back. "Crazy
bitch!"
Tough luck, loser. I never wavered from my pace. Another
lap, and another. The sprinters had fallen by the wayside. I passed them like
they were standing still, which many of them were by now. Another lap. The
rhythm was burned into my bones now, so solid that I couldn't stop even if I
wanted to. I rounded the curve. The field was down to six other people: two
girls and four guys. I wanted to sprint, wanted to plow them into the dirt,
but I had to keep the pace.
The next lap, as we passed the finish line, both girls and
two guys dropped off. The last two guys had a faster pace than mine. They
slowly pulled up on me. I recognized Evan and Tim Donaldson, from the track
team. They were obviously in competition, but as the reached me they matched
my pace. For a hundred yards, perhaps more, we were in perfect
synchronization.
"Next lap – last," Tim breathed. "Race."
Evan nodded on my left. I nodded. We kept our matched pace
around the curve, then evened up, nearing the line. Exactly even, we crossed
the finish line.
Tim suddenly shot ahead, Evan after him. It took me a
moment to break off from The Pattern and push myself up to speed. God they
were fast! I suddenly realized that I was on the verge of collapse, but I'd be
damned if I was going to let them win. I focused on all my anger and hate and
pain and rage and any other emotion I could pull together. *Kurt. Mystique.
MY GOD-DAMNED BROTHER.* The adrenaline was flowing a little better now. I
started to gain on Evan. We were all rounding the first curve, all in line,
hugging the inner ring.
Evan made the mistake of looking back and saw me gaining on
him. He put on a quick panic burst of speed. Sucker. Briefly he passed Tim.
His mistake.
I stoked my hatred of Mystique, pushing the anger into my
lungs and legs. I was gaining on Tim now.
Evan started slowing, even before he'd hit the far curve.
Tim passed him. Then I passed him. Now it was just me and Tim. I tried to
convince myself that he was Mystique in disguise, and that when I reached him I
could beat his face in. As we entered the curve, he glanced back and noticed
me. He showed a bit of surprise, then sped up just a little. Not enough to
burn out, but enough to keep ahead of me.
"Arrrr!" I couldn't help it. I pushed into a full
sprint, running like my life depended on it. I focused on Tim. He gave me a
single smirk and then started his own sprint. Coming out of the curve, we both
shot toward the line. For just a moment I thought I had a chance on him, but
then I felt it leaving me. And before I knew what had happened, I burned out.
Tim sped ahead, passing first over the line. Evan passed me
next. It was also I could do to jog-stagger over the line, before swerving
aside to collapse into the grass.
"Shit, girl!" it was Tim, looping back around to
gloat. "Get up! You have to walk it out, you know that! But damn, that's
the best you've run since before the break. Nice to finally have you back."
Confused, I staggered to my feet, trying to force my leaden
legs to clump forward in a weak walk. What was he talking about? Had he
realized that Jackie had been taking my place these past two weeks?
The three of us staggered past the coach. He looked up and
came to walk beside me.
"Glad to see you've finally pulled your head out of
your butt," he told me. "I don't know what the hell you've been
doing since you got back from the break, but it's nice to see you haven't
totally lost your touch."
I just nodded as I walked. In our discussions, Rogue had
never mentioned that running was important to her. And what had Jackie been
doing these past weeks?
The Coach was harsh. "So unless a miracle has occurred
I don't expect you've discovered any new genius at hurdles or relay. But I
still think you've got a shot – just a shot – at the 10k and maybe the 5k. But
you still need to shave about three minutes off your 10k time. If you're
finally willing to work, and work like hell, we might have you in shape by
spring. Are you willing to put in that work?"
My arms and legs felt like lead. I was gasping for breath.
But my heart – my heart wasn't pounding, it was singing. The spirit in my
chest felt so good I almost felt guilty. A chance to run? Everyday? Run
until I could drop? I nodded to the coach, wondering where these strange needs
had come from.
"Okay, then. Do your stretches then hit my office and
drink some carbs. And if you're still interested in weight training, I think
we might be able to work that in on your 'off' days. I'll talk to you about
that tomorrow."
I nodded and finished plodding through the walk. Then I
followed Donaldson's lead in the sort of stretches to do. I was pleased to see
that I was a hell of a lot more flexible than he was. After that I followed
him into the coach's office. He grabbed a couple of high-carbohydrate drinks
and tossed one to me. Other athletes were wandering in and out, doing the
same. I guess Donaldson was used to me not talking, because he seemed to
expect silence from me. Without a word, he turned and headed for the guys'
lockers.
I headed in to the girls' locker room.
Somehow, the experience was utterly different from my entry
less than an hour ago. I began to head over toward Kitty and realized that
*my* locker – Rogue's locker – wasn't over there. In fact, I didn't have the
slightest idea where it was.
After a moment of panic, I headed toward Kitty. She was
undressed, just holding a towel in front of her.
"Kitty!" I hissed.
"Oh, hi! You really got into the running today. Hey,
have you seen Angel?"
"I, uh, forgot my combination again," I
improvised.
"Huh? How could…" her eyes said that she was
trying to put the pieces together.
I spoke more slowly. "I was hoping you could help me
with my combination lock."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess." Her eyes finally lit up,
like she was getting the idea. "Rogue?"
I nodded.
"Oh. Okay." She lead me to my locker, then,
while we both shielded her action with our bodies, she phased the lock out of
the locker. With a little more work, she was able to push a finger inside the
lock and click it open.
"Thanks, Kitty. I'll make it up to you tonight."
"Actually, I'm going out tonight. Oh! Riiiight."
With that, she headed off to the shower.
Maybe the run had burned the perversions out of my mind,
maybe it was something else. But as I trooped into the shower was the throngs
of teeming girlflesh, all I could think about was not touching anyone. I
latched onto the idea of altering my belly button. Just a little deeper,
nothing noticeable. I thought about it, pulling it in just a fraction. I'm
not sure if it worked; I couldn't see any difference. I did feel the merest
hint of buzzing in my head. Next to holding my entire body, it was almost no
effort. I prayed that it would be enough to block my draining powers.
How had Rogue ever survived in the showers?
Now that I looked, it wasn't like the girls were rubbing
soap on each other's bodies. In fact, they seemed to take extra care not to
press the flesh, if you catch my drift. Still, there was the occasional
hand-to-shoulder. That would have been more than enough.
Sliding under the hot spray and soaping up was a bemusing
experience. If anything, I expected myself to react even more strongly to the
presence of all these soapy nubile female bodies as we clustered in the
showers. Instead, my mind kept repeating that I was Rogue. I was in Rogue's
body. I was correct and proper. And for once, even if I was an ugly, gawky,
butt-faced, skunk-head, it was alright. Maybe it was the satisfaction of the
run. Maybe it was the thought that being in this body, not a fake invention
like Angel Quinn, in this body I belonged in the girls' locker room. I looked
around and felt satisfaction and contentment. Or perhaps the thought of my own
appearance distracted me from the appearance of the other girls in the room.
Either way, I felt almost like I belonged and I put on Rogue's clothes.
Ugg. Rogue's clothes. I mentally cleaned each item before
putting them on. After all, Jackie had been wearing this underwear less than
an hour ago.
The black leather miniskirt felt almost familiar,
particularly with the green tights and comfy old clunker shoes. The halter
felt nice. Both comforting and daring, feminine and tough all at the same
time. A bit of see-through over that for protection, then the gloves and
collars.
It felt oddly nice. I almost wanted to stay. If I didn't
have to be such an ugly butt-face, maybe…. No. If I had to be a girl (and I
reminded myself that I did NOT want to be a girl) then I was going to be a
babe. So, shortly after gym, I ducked into a bathroom. There was no one there
(for once) so five seconds later I had long blonde hair and filled a cup that
was two sizes larger. I noticed that the outfit had changed automatically,
without having to think about it.
Now, if only I could sink into the fascinations of biology
for my next period, maybe I'd be able to ignore the fact that I had actually
agreed to a date this evening.
Continued in Chapter 19, " Dating Games " appearing NEXT Week!
since 05/26/03
