He hadn't trained for this--that much Scott Summers knew about the situation. He wasn't prepared for such a task as the one that lay before him. Ribbons of fire blazed their way up Scott's spine as he glared at the wall that stood before him like a monolith of evil. His compatriots in the deathtrap he had been so fiendishly lured into gazed at him serenely.
They had all been there before--that was plainly obvious. Why were they not worried? Why were they not afraid? Scott shook his head. That didn't matter now. All that mattered was getting past that wall to find what he needed to save his marriage. Time was running out.
Instantly, Scott's hand shot in front of him to grab the first package he could find. It was small, and he could smuggle it back to the entrance without anyone being the wiser. Focused, Scott started to move--slowly at first. One foot plodded in front of the other, methodical and slow, so as not to call attention to the frightened X-Leader.
Scott's breath was shallow and weak. Large beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead and across his tense limbs. He shivered. He had to remain calm; a clumsy mistake in this stage of the mission could be fatal. Scott waited for his opportunity--then went for it. He darted past intricate blockades, pushing his body to the limits as he swept past the huge silver hurdle that barred the entrance. As he flew past the tinted glass doors, Scott tossed a withered twenty over his shoulder to a small, confused teen in a garish uniform.
He took a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. He was outside. He was free. Scott gazed at the verdant package in his hand and marveled at how cool the plastic felt against his sweltering skin. He laughed--a good-natured easygoing laugh that drew smiles from everyone around him. Scott Summers had done it. He had saved his marriage. He had traversed a forbidden area and come out unscathed. He had run through the fire.
He had just bought his first box of maxi pads.
********
"First of all, these are tampons. Second of all, they aren't even Always. Scott, did you even look at the piece of paper that I gave you?"
Scott dug the yellow post-it note from his back pocket. He looked at it glumly. In Jean's meticulous script were the neatly inscribed words…Always Long Super Maxi--with wings. He sighed as Jean shook a soft white rod in front of his face.
"Does this look like a pad to you?"
"No, Jean."
"What does it look like?"
An immature smile danced at the corners of his mouth.
Jean sneered. "Ugh! Don't even think it."
"Too late."
"I know." She grabbed his coat from the chair in the hallway. "I'll just run over to the main house and see if Storm has some. We can go out to dinner when I get back."
Scott glanced quickly at Jean, his eyes darting back and forth as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar--as well as in a couple of other unseen places where goodies are kept too. "Did you say dinner?"
"Yes."
"I thought we were eating dinner at the main house tonight."
"What in the world would give you that idea? I've been complaining for two weeks that we never go out anywhere, and you said yesterday that you would take me out tonight, remember?" Jean dropped the jacket back onto the chair.
Scott wished she would drop the subject too. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Uh, I did? It must have slipped my mind." He wrapped a shield around his thoughts and prayed she wouldn't realize he was lying though his teeth. Scott remembered exactly what he had said--remembered it because Jean had nagged him for three hours straight, until he would have promised to saw off his own legs and feed them to his first born if only to get her to shut up. No, what Scott had forgotten was the Knicks game that would be on in the next thirty minutes--the game that every testosterone-laden resident of the mansion would be watching…and Scott would watch too if he played his cards right.
Jean smiled brightly. He's lying. "Well, husband mine, we could have dinner at the big house tonight and have a night on the town next week." She pulled his coat from the chair. "How does that sound?" You lying bastard.
Scott's sigh of relief was so strong the squirrels outside believed a storm was approaching. "That sounds great, honey! In fact, let me walk you over to the house. I want to say hello to Kurt and Peter now that they're back."
"Sure!" Jean let her husband take her hand as the two sauntered over to the house. She would let him slide this time, but only because she felt slightly under the weather and wasn't up to an elaborate dinner that night. She placed her head upon Scott's shoulder.
"I love you so much, honey." Her blazing red hair fell across his arm. Still, you're going to pay big time for that little lie, Scott. Oh yes, you're going to pay.
********
Earlier that day…
Get out.
Wolverine leapt out of bed that cloudy morning as if his hair was on fire. If he didn't leave the mansion in the next twenty-five seconds, it probably would be. He sighed. The saline smell of moon's blood seeped through the mansion's walls, teasing the raised hackles across Wolverine's neck. He breathed in deeply, sorting various scents in his mind.
One woman cycling was bad enough--ten women cycling was a disaster waiting to happen. Wolverine quickly pulled his clothes from the floor, taking care so as not to rouse the sleeping woman who lay beside him.
As Storm turned over in her sleep, Wolverine yanked on his jeans and cast one last longing look at his ladylove. Storm's breasts strained against the t-shirt she wore like a gallon of water in a thin rubber balloon.
Judging by the sky's fitful nature and Storm's swollen breasts, Wolverine assumed she was about a day or two away from her period. He cringed; Storm had the stealth and venom of a viper around that time. If the others were foolish enough to bear the brunt of her wrath, so be it.
Logan was going fishing.
********
"Now isn't this much better than fishing with Logan, maat?"
"Dat it is, mon ami. Dat it is."
Gambit and Maggott stood facing the southeast wall of Maggott's bedroom, eyes dry from staring so intently at the partition before them. Gawking at the bedroom’s blue wallpaper usually didn't provide too thrilling a scene--but on this particular day it was in a crumpled mess on the floor beside the one way panel once hidden beneath it. In actuality, Gambit and Maggott were staring directly into the women's shower. More specifically, they were staring directly at Rogue.
"So how you get away wit' dis one? Nobody caught you in de act yet?" Gambit arched his eyebrows in surprise and let a thin stream of smoke drift from his nose.
Maggott coughed politely. "Ag, you mind putting that zol out, maat? It's stinking up my whole room."
"Je regrette."
Maggott laughed as Gambit extinguished the flaming end of his cigarette. "Ta. Not a problem, boet. My mom was always riding my brother about his smokes. I guess some of it sommer rubbed off on me."
"Humph. Shame t' waste a silk cut. You sure you're not related t' Stormy?" Gambit tossed the cigarette towards the silver wastebasket across the room--and made the shot without pulling his eyes from Rogue. "Tell me more 'bout dis panel."
"Like I said, Eany and Meany need a lot of water during the night--I mean a lot. I didn't want to wake everyone up with the girls running back and forth to the lav every five minutes, so I just put a panel in the wall so they could slip right through from my room." Maggott grinned as Rogue's towel dropped to the floor. "Lekkerrr! One hell of a guava, eh? Anyway, since I was going to be doing all that hard work putting the panel in for the girls, I figured I should get some of the benefits too." "Stormy never found out?"
"Safe, my mate. I popped it in when Storm was doing all her remodeling. I don't think she ever noticed."
Gambit and Maggott remained silent from thereafter, neither wanting to disturb the visual experience of the other. Like two great art critics they stood side by side, appreciating the vision before them.
They weren't the only ones doing any appreciating.
The two men noticed too late. Gambit winced, Maggott cringed, and Rogue screamed as Eany and Meany launched themselves through the partition’s panel to plop down into the bathtub with Rogue. The enraged southern belle, furious that she had nothing nearby to cover herself with, slapped one of Maggott's slugs across her breasts and the other between her legs.
"What do y'all think yoah doin'!"
Gambit chuckled and held a loofah high in the air. "Offering t' scrub your back?"
Rogue's skin flushed bright red. This could not be happening to her. This could not be happening to her. She closed her eyes and racked her brain for the one word that could make the whole entire situation go away…
"STOOOOORRRM!"
"Pasop! Something tells me the flossie's gonna skop, skiet en donder now!"
"You want t' tell Gambit what de hell dat supposed t' mean?"
"We're screwed."
********
"STOOOOORRRM!"
"Wha…?" Storm shot straight up in bed; a bead of nervous sweat raced between her bloodshot eyes.
Whose voice? Rogue's.
How did she sound? Furious.
Life-threatening? Unlikely.
She slipped back into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Storm nudged the lumpy mass snuggled against her frame. "Logan, please go downstairs and see why Rogue is having a nervous breakdown."
No response.
She nudged again--and again. Annoyed, Storm flung the covers from the bed.
Her lover was gone--two pillows strategically left in his place.
Now she was furious. Storm leapt out of bed, eagerly greeted by a searing pain in her abdomen. She glared down at the small pool of scarlet that lay between her feet.
"Goddess! Of all days!"
Past furious and well into irate, the enraged mutant rushed to her bureau. Yanking open the top drawer, she hoped to pull out a fresh pair of panties.
The drawer was empty.
Well…somewhat empty.
Storm scowled at the plush Bamf doll that popped up to meet her. The thick smell of sulfur that burst from the drawer burned her delicate nose. She coughed violently as she read the note pinned to the toy. Nighties for a Nightie.
"Nighties for a Nightie?"
The dawn of understanding rose in the landscape of her mind. Panty raid.
"KUUUUUURRRTTTT!!!!!"
********
Later that day…
"Hey hon, you holding down the fort okay?"
Storm looked up from a large simmering pot of chili to glance at Jean. "As well as can be expected. By the Bright Lady, I have never seen the mansion this crowded! Where is Scott?"
Jean dipped her thumb into the pot of chili and stuck it into her mouth. "In the television room with the rest of the Neanderthals. Need a hand?" With a gentle nudge of telepathic energy, she picked up a stack of ceramic bowls from the cutting board. "Thirty bowls? Who's here?"
"Anyone who has ever been an X-Man it seems. X-Force is on its way, Jubilee and Penance arrived this morning, and Longshot and Alison arrived just before you walked in."
"My goodness." A dull ache throbbed in Jean’s abdomen. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Ororo, do you have any pads? Aspirin too?"
"You have none at home?"
"Don't ask." The redheaded telepath opened a large cabinet to find that a minuscule bottle of aspirin was the only item in it. She gasped. "Where's all the food?"
Chunks of tomato, aided by one strong gust of wind, splattered across the table. "Deathbird sent four Shi'ar envoys here at three o'clock this morning! Goddess, it seems as if they ate their weight in food before traveling back home!"
"Why were they here?"
"More technological gifts from the Shi'ar!" Storm spread her arms wide in a dramatic gesture, almost knocking Jean in the head in the process. Lightning drained from her fingertips. "It is more like bribes from the Shi'ar to me! And they have still given us no word on Bishop's condition!"
Ignoring Storm's sudden tempest, Jean chewed on her aspirin absentmindedly. "So is the Danger Room back up and running?"
"Why do you ask?"
Jean glanced in the direction of the television room. "No reason."
********
"So then the farmer's daughter says--why don't you put it in the hole!" Jean blushed bright red as Bobby finished up the punch line to his self-described 'world's best joke ever'. More like the world's nastiest joke ever, she thought to herself. Did anyone actually think that was funny? Jean glanced around the dinner table. The men, who were laughing in a raucous manner, shouted across the table as if they were attending a ball game rather than an intimate dinner gathering. The women, however, ostracized from the main conversation, could barely be heard over the din. After the punch line, the female X-Members flashed tense, polite smiles to those at the table, then returned to their quiet conversations with the ladies nearest to them. Jean sighed. It was worth a shot.
"Cecilia, you aren't having any chili?" She pointed to the small salad on Reyes's plate. "Ororo's cooking is excellent."
"Oh honey, I know, but it's that time of the month, so any kind of salt is gonna make me look like a float in the Puerto Rican day parade!" Reyes smiled and tapped the chili bowl with her fork.
At ease in familiar territory, Phoenix nodded and laughed. "Y'know, if you drink a big glass of water before you--"
"Do you mind having your Massengil moment somewhere else?"
Jean looked up. "What did you say to me, Robert?"
"Uh Bobby, maybe you should--"
"Your Massengil moment, your Summers Eve event--have it somewhere else!
People are trying to eat here! Jeez!"
The atmosphere hardened with condensed tension.
"Bobby, I cannot believe you have the nerve to sit here and lecture me about my dinner manners when you--"
"Honey, there's no need for you to get hysterical!" Scott threw down his napkin in disgust.
"Hysterical? Hysterical?"
Wings of fire burst from Jean's back. A pyrotechnic halo consumed her brow. She enclosed her fingers in a fist, and the dining table popped and twisted like kindling dancing in a flame. With eyes that glowed like hot pokers, Jean glared at the assembled men--her accusing looks an acid that ate away at their resolve and will. And as soft lids closed over the twin suns of vision that were her eyes, the men began to fall. Each clawed at his head as synapses fired at random within his skull--and each issued a silent prayer of gratitude as the sweet relief of unconsciousness finally overcame him.
Jean took a swig of bottled water. "Now that, husband mine, is hysterical!"
********
Lorna grabbed at Jean's arm, pulling her over the unconscious men sprawled out across the dining room floor. "What in the hell is wrong with you?" "Relax. I know what I'm doing." Jean broke free of Lorna's grasp to gather up the bowls of chili and bring them into the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed as she came across several rows of closed cabinets. "Is there any more popcorn left, Ororo?"
"Top cupboard." The X-Leader folded her arms across her chest and stepped smoothly over Scott. She frowned at the human carpet of male X-Men beneath her. "Jean, I would like to know precisely what it is you supposedly know you are doing."
"Just putting on a little show. Believe me, the guys are going to be just fine. Would this face lie to you?"
Storm pointed to Jean's red and gold Phoenix costume. "Actually…" "Clones don't count."
"How convenient for you."
"You'd be surprised."
"Do we have any more liquor here?" Psylocke's hand popped through a shadow in the cupboard.
"Psylocke, judging from your condition earlier at dinner, I am not so certain you--"
"Lighten up, boss!" Dazzler smiled as she stepped in front of Storm to hand Psylocke a bottle of Jack Daniels. She turned to Jean. "I set the TV up like you asked. Who says you can't learn anything from Mojovision?"
Jean clapped her hands wildly in excitement. "Good! Then I'll just get our stars ready for their close-ups!"
******** Ororo Munroe entered the den, surprised at how calm her teammates were with the fact that their partners and friends were detained and defenseless down in the Danger Room--with a woman who looked a little too much like Dark Phoenix for Storm's own comfort. She met their mildly interested stares. "I know no more than you do. All we can do is wait." That won't be necessary.
The X-Women jumped as the television clicked on and Jean's image flashed upon the screen.
Jean waved. "Hey, guys! I didn't mean to startle you, I just thought this was quicker than running all the way back upstairs. Sorry to take so long, our stars weren't quite ready to go on yet."
"Jean, this has all gone quite far enough! Now tell me exactly--"
"Can't talk now, the program's already started. I'll be up in a minute!"
Jean laughed as her figure faded from view. "On with the show."
********
Act One
The toasted glow of morning sunlight rose to meet Robert Lane and gently kiss the bridge of his pert and perky nose. The smell of pancakes, maple syrup, and honey glazed ham crept softly underneath his bedroom door. Iceman lifted his head from the valley of his plush pillow to enjoy the smell. Obviously, Rogue had been stuck with kitchen duty earlier that morning.
As Bobby shook his head in thanks, another seductive odor teased his nostrils--the faintest hint of lilies pervaded the room. The groggy mutant furrowed his brow and tried to pinpoint exactly where he had first encountered the scent. A beaming smile spread across his face like dawn across the horizon. Emma. Emma smelled like lilies. Bobby's smile grew even wider as he spotted a stray strand of ice-blond hair across his sheets. Had she been there? Why hadn't he remembered anything?
Bobby closed his eyes and padded over to the dresser, attempting to recall the events of the night before. Emma had dropped Jubilee and Penance off yesterday morning, but he distinctly remembered being paired with Lorna by last night's end.
"So how does Emma come into all of this?"
The mirror answered his question.
As he looked up, the White Queen's eyes met his. Bobby reached out to grab for the feminine figure, only to have his fist smash against cool glass. He yanked his hand back in pain. Tentatively, he touched his face. Emma touched hers as well. He smiled--as did she. They were one in the same. It was all there, and it was all his. The glossy blond hair, the full pout, the crystalline irises, the alabaster skin--he was firmly entrenched in the body of the one he desired the most. Fear gave way to fascination as Iceman shrugged his lace nightgown to the floor.
Perfect--just as he expected it to be. Bobby gasped slightly as his palms ran over Emma's full breasts…
********
"See! He grabbed the boobs! Didn't I tell you that would be the first thing he did? Reyes, you owe me twenty dollars!"
Jean Grey-Summers happily twirled around in a little circle as she held out her palms for the money she had just won. "Now…show me the money!"
"Ay, mira! Bobby's cost me twenty bucks already! How was I supposed to know he was a pervert?"
"He asked Lorna out tonight--that should have given you some sort of clue."
Several silver spoons suddenly shot across the room. Psylocke ducked; Rogue didn't.
"Ow, Lorna! Shit, Ah didn't even say nothin'!"
Psylocke dropped to the floor in a fit of laughter. She took another gulp from the bottle that fell haphazardly from the couch. "I'm sorry, Lor. I just don't know what's gotten into me today, love!"
"Two bottles o' Jack Daniels, Worthington, th' mailman…"
"Cross out the mailman and add another half a bottle, and that should be pretty accurate. Sex and Jack do wonders for the cramps." Psylocke raised her bottle cheerfully.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Ah'm not touchin' that."
"What did she say?"
Lorna sneered. "I'm. Not. Touching. That. I know how alien the phrase must be to you, Betsy."
"I don't believe I was talking to you, Lorna." Psylocke returned her attention to the viewscreen. She narrowed her eyes. "How does this program work?"
"Well, Beast designed the original version, I think. Maybe Forge…" An immaterial hand shot through a closed bag of Doritos to pull out a fistful of chips. Kitty Pryde froze in place as she saw Storm look at her disapprovingly. She smiled weakly--obviously her pseudo-mother had seen her take a few free samples from the supermarket earlier that afternoon.
"Kitten!"
Jean laughed. "Please! Like she didn't learn that directly from you!"
"As if I would steal something as common as tortilla chips."
"They're called Doritos, Miss Primadonna."
Betsy frowned. "Is anyone going to tell me how the damned program works?"
Shadowcat rolled her eyes and wondered if it was the British or the Japanese in Betsy that made her such an annoying drunk. "It alters the visual and tactile sensations of the individual in the program."
"So Bobby isn't really in Emma's body, he just thinks he is?"
The British…definitely the British. "Yes, Psylocke. Isn't that what I just said?"
"Just making sure. Soooooo..." Psylocke pointed to the screen. "Where's he putting his finger?"
The X-Women were speechless.
They got over it.
"Ewwwwwww!!!!!"
"Change the scenario! Switch channels! Switch chaaaaaannels!"
"That's it! I'm canceling our date!"
"Aw no, Lorna! Bobby's been lookin' forward to that date all day! He doesn't know he's bein' watched."
"Rogue, I'm not going date a guy who has his finger stuck in his a--"
"Act two is up for your entertainment, ladies!" Alison Blaire danced around the massive monitor in her best spokesmodel impersonation. "Introducing…Ms. Remiana LeBeau!"
Rogue finished off the rest of her coffee and prayed that Remy wouldn't embarrass her as badly that night as he had that morning--or during their entire relationship for that matter. As an afterthought, she grabbed Psylocke's half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
"This oughta be good."
********
Act Two
"I must admit, I'm proud to have been the one to capture you, Remy."
"Dat so?" Remy LeBeau let the unknown speaker drone on as he strained to take stock of his surroundings. He could just barely hear the faint voices of revelers drift throughout the dank and unlit room. His brow furrowed in concentration; he strove to determine the location of the muffled sounds. Were they on the floor above him? Below? Gambit listened closely as feminine laughter teased his ears. They were above him.
He smiled, recognizing his chance to escape. If he could reach a crowded area such as the party above, losing his captor might develop into a serious possibility. Moreover, to Remy, a room filled with laughing--and hopefully beautiful--women could be no more perfect a place to get lost in.
With a new scheme in mind, Remy struggled to break free of his restraints. He slipped his hands around the cords that bound him, determined to charge the oddly shaped shackles. He gasped in surprise when nothing occurred. Fear seized his heart.
Had he lost his powers? Gambit grabbed the cords once again; his nails dug into stiff ridges. Fluid rushed over his digits. He breathed a sigh of relief as liquid pooled underneath his nails. The cords were organic. It explained his inability to charge them.
"So tell me more 'bout how dis your greatest conquest. Gambit usually de one be doing de conquering." Remy's lock pick stabbed at the vines that twisted around his wrists and legs. He hoped the sound of his voice would be strong enough to mask the chopping sound.
The unknown voice hissed at him in response. "I know. I've heard similar tales from the all women you've loved…and left."
"Really?" Gambit smiled. He had already freed both hands. "And have you talked t' all of dem, ma chere?"
"Yes."
He laughed as the last vine fell from his frame. "Den you are a lair, petite. It'd take you years t' even count dem, let alone converse wit' dem 'bout little ol' me."
And with that final quip thrown over his shoulder for good measure, Remy LeBeau ran like exactly what he was--a thief in the night. And that was when everything went wrong.
He couldn't move--not with the speed and grace he was accustomed to. His gait was clumsy and stilted; he tripped over his trenchcoat several times and crashed into the wall. Gambit moved in unusual spurts, as if his body refused to be controlled by his mind. Stinging spasms burst throughout his calves. His waist was cinched with a belt of pain.
He had to stop and rest--and that scared him. The footsteps of the unknown speaker seemed to grow louder with each breath. Time to recuperate was a dangerous luxury. Quickly, he crouched by an elaborate fountain, dipping in his hands to take a cool draught of water.
The liquid spilled through his fingers as Gambit focused on the reflection of his face.
The devil's eyes, Gambit's well-known calling card, were still there. They lit up like warning flares in the darkness and cast a soft red glow over the image in the water. The glossy auburn hair was there as well. It was the face that was foreign to Remy. Smooth and feminine, a woman's face rose to meet him in the still waters. Remy's eyes grew wide with surprise. It was his face.
"How do you like your new image, LeBeau?"
The voice was close--too close--and it was obvious his pursuer knew his location from the words she spoke. Gambit moved to run. His leg jerked back in agony. He looked down; the spikes of his heels were caught in the grid beneath his feet. He realized the reason for his awkward gait.
Yukio's face came into focus as she moved within the soft red glow of his eyes. The barrel of her gun did as well. "I warned you about what would happen if you hurt Storm." She cocked the loaded revolver. "Didn't I?"
Gambit's eyes blazed.
A shot went off.
The room died in darkness.
********
Rogue roared with laughter.
"Good for him! Maybe now Mistah Cajun'll understand how hard it is to fight in heels!" The Mississippi mutant tripped in her heels as she spoke, the Jack Daniels she took from Psylocke having more of an effect than she had originally realized.
Storm patted her own boots appreciatively. "I really do not see the problem, Rogue. Both Jean and I wore heels with our initial costumes and we never had any difficulties with them in battle."
"Not a one."
"Yes, and we all know how that bloody hovering you two do can be so strenuous."
"You tell 'em, Bets!" Rogue took another swig of Jack Daniels as she wandered through her first alcohol induced flashback of the evening.
"Y'know, Remy useta loooove for me to hover right above him late at night--sure did." Her bleary eyes danced as she reminisced. "Gaaaaaal, Ah'd be naked as a jaybird and then he'd--"
"Goddess, Rogue! Be quiet! We do not need to hear all about your…ah…personal activities."
Rogue rushed for Storm, her double vision landing her face down in the couch. She sprang up again in a fit of fury. "Then Ah don't need to heah 'bout yoah asch…act…activ…yoah stuff neither! Ah don't know who ya tryin' to fool with that prim and proper act!"
Storm shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I have no clue as to what--"
"Yeah, Ah said it! Yoah bedroom's right above mine! Can't get a lick o' sleep with all that hootin' and hollerin' goin' on!" Rogue flipped back and clamped a large and lumpy stuffed pillow between the muscled vise of her legs. She sucked in on her cheeks, shoving out her lips like a third rate drama queen. "By the Bright Lady, Logan--it is so good! SOOOO GOOD!" Psylocke looked at Jean. "I bet she didn't keep her heels on when she was doing that!"
Jean looked back. "I bet she did."
"I-do-not-want-to-hear-about-this!" Kitty clasped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes to the world--particularly to Rogue grinding wildly beneath a pillow on the floor. The combination of Storm, Logan, high heels, and orgasms was too much for her delicate sensibilities to bear.
Rogue tossed the pillow at Kitty. "Jus' like walkin' in on yoah parents, huh Kitten?"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Kitty fired across the room, a large tapestry clutched in her right hand. She pounced on Rogue, wrapping the tapestry around the southern woman's head and yanking it tight.
Storm groaned in embarrassment.
"Er…ladies? How about we watch the next scenario now?" Jean stepped over the writhing Rogue and Kitty Pryde to pick up the remote control that had been kicked into the corner. "I believe our illustrious ladies' man Japheth is up next."
"So who are we turning Maggott into?" Psylocke peeked over Jean's shoulder at the controls.
Jean pushed a few buttons indiscriminately. "Um…I'll just feminize his features like I did with Remy. That should be enough."
********
Act Three
Maggott was dragged into consciousness by the sound of grinding gears. Ever stubborn, he still refused to open his eyes.
"What is it, girls? You can't be hungry sommer yet." His hands roamed across the bed to find the two sentient expressions of his mutant power.
They weren't there.
He groaned as he heard the familiar thwump against the wall. The 'girls' were trying to get through the panel between his room and the bathroom--the panel Ororo and Rogue had made him seal under extreme duress…to put it mildly. Maggott rolled out of bed and popped the safety lock at the bottom of the panel.
Storm and Rogue hadn't told him how long he had to keep the panel sealed, and finding loopholes to excuse his mischievous behavior had always been Maggott's specialty. He plopped back down onto the mattress.
Thwump!
Thwump! Thwump!
"Arrgh! What is it?" Maggott drew the covers from his body and the lids from his eyes. His gaze flew across the panel to find a stark naked woman standing directly in front of him.
Oh, this was going to be a good morning.
"You are a libidinous little girl, aren't you, flossie?" Maggott stood in front of the glass panel as his eyes poured over every inch of Storm's body. He arched his eyebrows in surprise as Storm did the same to his. He grinned--and so did she. Maggott chuckled at his incredible luck. This had to be even better than the rain shower shows she would put on out by the lake in the morning. This time the viewing was up close and personal.
Feeling bold--as he felt quite often--Maggott beckoned Storm, hoping she would join him in his bedroom. Once again, Storm did the same, gesturing for him to enter the bathroom with her.
There was no hesitation on Maggott's part. Logan, off on his fishing expedition, was nothing more than a very distant memory. Maggott pushed open the panel to enter the bathroom--and enjoy a nice hot shower with a naughty hot woman.
She wasn't there.
Maggott's eyes inspected every inch of the bathroom. Disappointed, he turned back towards the panel to return to his room. Storm's image greeted him once again.
"Jislaaik, what a little tease you are, doll! I can't handle much more of this!" Maggott's hand reached down to cup his favorite organ. That wasn't there either.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!" He ran to the mirror in his bedroom.
"AAAAAAHHH!!!!!"
Beast. Beast could fix this, couldn't he? Maggott pulled 'the girls' from his bed, wrapped them around his frame, and dashed towards the doorway. He paused in mid-dash. He was stark naked, and looked exactly like Storm.
When was he ever going to get another chance like that again?
Maggott slipped back into his bedroom and rifled through the knapsack resting next to his bed. It had to be in there somewhere. After a few moments, he pulled his hand out of the knapsack and cheered with success.
His brother's old camera lay within his palm. Maggott held the lens up to the mirror and grinned.
"Say cheese, donder woman."
********
Storm flailed her arms wildly. Espresso sputtered from her lips like water from a rusted over pump. She pointed at the screen in anguish. "He is seeing me naked!"
Psylocke shrugged. "Who hasn't?"
"Well then, he is feeling me naked!"
"So has Forge, Logan…"
Storm frowned at the violet-haired beauty. "I have had very few sexual experiences, thank you very much, Psylocke."
"Then how do you explain the stick up your--"
"That is quite enough, Elizabeth!"
Psylocke leaned over to whisper to Jean, though still ensuring she was loud enough for the whole group to hear. "Well, Storm was in Emma's body for a time--"
"Since when does a telepath need to go around whispering?"
Psylocke's tongue shot out at Lorna. The British and Japanese beauty turned back towards Jean without missing a step--speaking even louder this time. "And Emma was in Storm's body too. Who knows what went on then?"
Jean giggled and nodded emphatically. "The possibilities are endless." With a snap of her fingers, Storm energized the air in the room, igniting a fury of flyaways in Jean's perfect tresses.
The act was petty, but satisfying nonetheless. "Considering that you are so quick to jest, Jean--perhaps I should remind you that you were in Emma's body for a time as well. And so was Robert."
"Jeez, Frostie'll just let anyone in her."
Storm's head whirled towards the open doorway. "Jubilation! I thought you were downstairs!"
"I was bored, so I--Ewwwww! You did porno movies, Storm?" The young girl crinkled up her nose and turned her head sideways to focus on the screen. "That is not me! Alison, change his features this instant! Jubilee, go downstairs!"
Dazzler giggled. "I still think it's kinda funny."
"He is still feeling me naked!"
"I don't care what you say! I'm staying!"
"Ororo, you did laugh along with the rest of us when Bobby felt Emma up."
"Goddess, Alison! Even I have felt Emma--Jubilee, why are you not yet downstairs?"
Psylocke poured herself another espresso. "Let her stay. She's old enough to know about this stuff. I did at her age."
"Why am I not surprised, Elizabeth?"
"Can I stay or not? It's not like I haven't seen Frostie in action before."
"Just what are you implying by 'in action', child?" Storm's eyes narrowed. Just what was Emma teaching these children?
"Jealous, Ororo?"
Storm smirked. "Elizabeth, if you would like to know who in this room has lesbian tendencies, you need only look at yourself."
Kitty waved a Hershey bar triumphantly in the air. "Touché!"
"That is such a bloody lie!"
Jean smiled. "Is not. Methinks you're eating crow, Bets."
"Among other--"
"Rogue!"
"Well, it's not like y'all weren't thinkin' it!" Rogue peered at Jean suspiciously. "An' how do you know 'bout Betsy's tendencies, anyways?"
"Hello? I read minds for a living."
**An' here Ah thought ya brown-nose Xavier for a livin'**
Jean clicked her tongue in reproach. "I heard that, Rogue."
Caught in the act, Rogue curtsied gracefully. "Mah apologies, Jean. Ya don't brown-nose Xavier for a livin'."
"Thank you, Rogue."
"That's Storm's job."
"If the only thing you all are going to do is ridicule me…" Storm grabbed at the remote control. An uproarious protest by her peers followed. "Change Maggott's scenario for the big baby."
"Can we get back to this 'in action' thing? I just love gossip!" Kitty handed Jubilee another Hershey bar.
The young girl smiled through a mouthful of chocolate. "No biggie. I caught Jono and Ange down in the cellar watchin' a tape of Frostie and Shaw gettin' their groove on. Been blackmailing 'em ever since!"
Psylocke raised her mug of espresso towards the sky. "And that, my dearies, is the true art to being an X-Woman!"
"Uh, Guys?" Lorna peered over her shoulder at the monitor. "I don't mean to be a downer, but the VR program ends in about an hour. What are we going to do when the guys get out?"
Jean's eyes jerked open. "I never thought that far ahead, Lor! I don't know! I'd hate to do a memory wipe--you know how I feel about those…" Jubilee raised her hand. "I have an idea."
"Maybe we can tell them it's some sort of psychological training program we've been working on…"
"I said I have an idea."
"Or how about we say it was a malfunction in the image inducer?" "Hello! Gorgeous teen with perfect plan here!"
Exasperated, Jean turned towards Jubilee. "What is it, kiddo?"
Jubilee smiled. "Road trip."
********
Emma Frost issued the visiting troop a dazzling artificial smile as she ushered them into her foyer. "Of course, you see that I have more than enough room for all of you. I'm just glad I didn't send my servants out to my summer home yet."
Cecilia Reyes sniffed disdainfully at the extravagant mansion. One vase would have paid off her entire student loan for medical school. "Oh yes, what a travesty that would be."
"Shut up, Reyes. It's either here or what's waiting for us back home."
"Do you have to be so bitchy, Psylocke?"
"Do you?"
"Psylocke has that Braddock bastard gene. I don't think she can help it."
"Why don't you just go to hell, Kitty?"
"Why don't you just--"
"Not to interrupt, but exactly what is waiting for you back home?" Emma Frost whirled around to face her visitors.
Before Psylocke could spit out a scathing retort, Storm stepped in front of her smoothly. "It is a long story--perhaps one that can be better discussed over coffee?"
Emma smiled. "Certainly, Ororo. I'll have Rupert set out the china. It's been a long time since I've been visited by friends."
Giggling, Rogue leaned over towards Reyes. "Maybe that's 'cause she nevah had none."
********
"So we're just gonna sit on our asses and let them get away with this? We know where they are, man! Let's go get 'em!"
Like paroled inmates, the X-Men had been sprung from their virtual trap to stomp and swear around the mansion in traditional barbarian fashion. After searching for the women in vain, each mutant retired to his own room to find a videotape of his feminine excursion sitting on a nearby
dresser--Maggott being the sole exception. Instead, Japheth discovered a small sheet of scented paper resting on his mattress. In flowery script were Storm's words:
Maggott,
If you even think I am going to allow you to keep a videotape such as the one you made today, you are surely mistaken. I left a letter for Logan explaining all that has transpired this evening--including your little show. I believe that is a strong enough punishment, do you not?
Storm
P.S. I erased the file from the video archives as well. Do not bother searching there.
He had searched there anyway--just in case. It wasn't there. Maggott grumbled to himself. Like many of the other men, he ignored Angel's voice of reason.
"Are you crazy, Bobby? They're at Emma's house. We can't go barging in there. That's like Switzerland--neutral territory. We'll just have to wait until they come back--then we'll get even. Right, Cyke?"
Scott refused to answer his old friend. Instead, the X-Leader let his eyes fall forlornly upon the flickering monitor. The women hadn't bothered to hook the television back up to the main satellite, and only the faintest hint of the after-game show could be seen underneath a thick blanket of snow. Knicks 97, Pacers 93. Scott blinked, tears welling up in his eyes. Knicks 97, Pacers 93. The most important game of the season--a double overtime bonanza--and he hadn't seen one minute of it. One minute. Because while they were trapped in the Danger Room--playing out psychotic estrogen-induced simulations--the women were in their room, eating their chips, and watching their television. Scott grabbed the remote from the table. He could feel the testosterone bubble in his veins. They weren't going to get away with this one. Not this time.
Scott's gaze swept over his troops. "No, Warren. This one calls for payback--immediate payback." He held the remote high in the air and watched as the dim lamplight cast a halo around the holy control. "Suit up, men…we're going for a ride."
~~~ ON GOING ~~~
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