About this commission

Author: Maskedmarmoset [ Hentai Foundry ]

Chapter 1: SeXual Protection

“Give me a drink, please? Nothing alcoholic.”

Christian Aangher drummed his fingers as the bartender fixed him a fruit spritzer, trying to be inconspicuous while taking in the sights.  He really wanted something stronger, but now wasn’t the time. Music just loud enough to insulate him from the rest of the boisterous crowd around him beat from hidden speakers.

Deep breath, dude. Deeeeeep breath!

A high-class bordello masquerading as an elite, old-fashioned society club wasn’t where he would imagine an important business meeting would take place, not outside of a shitty Hollywood movie, but this was where the other party had specified. The one-time pass that let him through the place’s impressive security had come with his invitation. He’d pictured a private club…but not a private sexclub. Doormen dressed as 18th-century footmen, in powdered wigs and frock coats, stood solidly at the various exits, clearly hired muscle, and just as clearly manfully ignoring the sights, sounds, and scents of their fellow female employees, who were dressed in far less.

But it is a bordello. A no-shit sex club in the middle of Manhattan, or at least partly under it, judging by the fact that the elevator went down instead of up. This place is like Mardi Gras on crack. Who do they think they’re fooling?! More importantly, I wonder who they’re bribing to keep the Hellfire Club open. Or a better question might be: blackmailing to keep it quiet?

Chris’s eyes focused on a pair of high heels going way, way up. The slinky red-head in the green teddy wearing them was entertaining a group of lawyer-types, gyrating on an ottoman hassock in the middle of their eagerly groping hands. Nobody paid any attention to their actions except occasional admiring interest….or imitation with their own trollops.

Damn, look where that guy’s putting his fingers! Look where she’s putting her fingers!!! Holy shit, this club is wild!

Soft lighting and rich leather seats dotted the broad expanse of the front of this club. The chairs formed little nooks where small groups of guys sat and talked, or drank and laughed. Without exception each of those men had a woman hanging off their arm. One statuesque blonde with a gym-body was gyrating on a low table before a hungry circle of men in tuxedos. Not far away, a tiny Slavic blonde girl and her latino companion were kittened on top of somebody that looked quite a lot like the current forward for the Knicks. Two couches over from him, Chris thought he recognized the City’s rich mayor, with a possibly underage asian girl who was energetically bouncing in his lap. There was an elderly guy in old-fashioned box-frame glasses and a ready grin who had a positive fanclub gathered around him! Guy had some moves, judging by the squeals. More girls were busy writhing around their…clients.

Yeah, definitely clients. Those girls were here to serve the club’s clientele, and serve more than drinks. They were all model-beautiful, all scantily-dressed, and all very friendly to the men they were with.

What was really wild was that many of the girls’ outfits, where they weren’t frilly lingerie or silky dresses, were instead the slick rubber or stiff leather of bondage gear, liberally sprinkled with snaps, cuffs, and select metal piercings. Others unconcernedly mouthed ballgags or horse-bits, many had their hands tied, cuffed, or otherwise restrained to their bodies. One laughing brunette in clinking bondage cuffs at ankles and wrists giggled her way up the stairs, her modest derriere and tight bust being squeezed and bunching upwards by the stiff leather of her corset/thong combo. The towering Slavic man (who was about as naked as the girl) escorting her clapped a broad hand to her inviting butt, holding her to him tightly as they disappeared up the stairs to the upper levels. The brunette’s toned ass clenched under his grip in anticipation, her whole attitude radiating a barely-restrained enthusiasm for what was about to happen.

Goddamn. She’s in for a ride. Possibly while suspended from the ceiling. Some real freaks here. Must be private rooms upstairs……..

Chris sighed, eyeing the other ladies eagerly prowling the packed club floor. There were some serious lookers, like a Victoria’s Secret shoot turned real-life, and not all of them had their own escorts/customers attached. He wished he had the money or the moxie to reserve some time with these strutting for-sale hotties.

“Perhaps you will, Mister Aangher,” a cultured voice whispered from close behind him, almost in his ear. He jumped.

A stunning older blonde woman slid into the seat beside him. Even for the Hellfire Club, she stood out. She was seriously stacked, with diamond-sharp features and lips and silvery/blue-gray eye-shadow that made her ice-blue eyes really pop.

“Uh, I’m sorry? I didn’t-”

“Your thoughts were very plain,” she said in amusement, “One would almost say I could see your thoughts, you’re so transparent.”

Her voice was a faux-British accent, pure ‘I-went-to-Cambridge-and-you didn’t’. Everything she wore was white, right down to her stiletto thigh boots and the laced bustier that held a plump pale chest. She was drop-dead gorgeous, model-quality but in her early thirties, and dressed even more lewdly than some of the younger talent wandering around. With him still sitting slack-jawed, she towered over him in her boots. She had great skin for an older woman. He wondered for a second what she cost a night.

Her lips quirked in cool amusement, “More than you can afford, even if I was still for sale. Thank you for the compliment, but I’m not that old!”

Again he felt like he’d stepped into a conversation halfway done, “What? Wait, how did you know my name, or-?! Look, I have-”

“-a meeting, yes, I know. I’m Emma Frost. I’m the one who emailed you,” she replied.

“Oh. Oh! Sorry!” he exclaimed in surprise, pushing his drink away to swivel around to face her on the bar stool, “I wasn’t expecting….,” he stopped, waving a hand at her appearance.

Chris wanted to smack himself. Ooooh. Smooth. Imply your potential fundraiser prospect looks like a whore. Good move, dummy.

Emma Frost still had the amused expression on her face, but it got incrementally harder as he watched, her lips very thin below her cold blue eyes.

“Money can buy nice things, Doctor Aangher, but I’ve found that the really important things need to be created, not bought. Which brings us down to you and me. Let’s talk about babies.”



Chris was a microbiologist, with a specialty in genetically-linked diseases. And he had one beaut of a discovery.

One more foreign exchange student in the busiest city in the world, Aangher had spent hard years as a graduate student at Empire State University. He’d begged and borrowed grant money, and wasted a great deal of time in a lab while the rest of the students were out enjoying the Manhattan night-life. But microbiology was the science of painstaking, unceasing effort, all in the pursuit of that one golden apple. Maybe it was Idunn and her apples. Maybe it was God. Hell, maybe it was Watson & Crick, but something had kept Chris on his line of research like a laser.

Intense, unremitting effort had borne fruit. Every day thousands of children were born across the globe. Of those, a very small percentage would develop super-powered traits when they hit puberty, sometimes with disastrously lethal consequences. These were the so-called “mutants”, Homo Superior, as called by some. Some feared they were the replacements for Homo Sapiens. Some gloried at the idea. Most people didn’t know what to think, and were just scared, waiting to see if puberty was going to turn their son or daughter into a super-powered issue. As a scientist, Aangher had looked at the biggest single issue facing mankind in the 21st-century – unanticipated mutation and evolution – and asked himself a very simple question:

“Hey! Why can’t we get a heads-up on that before it happens?”

It had been the subject of his doctoral thesis. He had graduated magna cum laude, with a full Ph.D., only six years into college, then scrounged money for a small start-up research firm that he had been partially running out of the college labs. Chris put a lot of quiet time and effort into answering his original thesis.

And I found an answer. Not Dr. McCoy, not Doctor Rao, not even Reed Richards. Me! Hell Yeah!

In six months, Dr. Aangher would be ready to go public with a small, portable, and most importantly cheap way for mothers to determine if their baby was going to be the next Magneto. An over-the-counter test for latent mutancy.

Chris wasn’t anti-mutant; no screaming crazy like those Friends of Humanity idiots that would show up on the news whenever somebody was outed as a mutant or Congress made another stab at getting a registration bill into law, but mutants could be bloody dangerous, and he honestly felt that parents had a right to know if they were going to be bringing that into the world.

Most of all, like any good scientist, he had developed the Aangher Test because he could, because the driving process of solving the puzzle had obsessed him, obsessed him to the point of ignoring virtually everything else in life with single-minded determination. Regular sleep, food, a social life; all had fallen by the wayside.

All he needed to do now was choose a big money partner to get it out on the street.

But now….ahhhh, now I can enjoy the finer parts of life! Schooling done, research done, riches await! Maybe I will even find a girl to spend my future with, one with long legs and flashing eyes, a real knockout! They say if you cannot find a beautiful girl in Manhattan, you are not trying!

He  knocked on wood, smiling. But not as good as a girl back home, although I don’t miss the winters. Americans here think a New York winter is bad, hah!

The best part was, the money had come to him. Before he could even tender offers, he’d received an email with a very attractive cost-estimate (that was a lot of zeroes trailing after the first number!) from Frost Industries. He wasn’t sure how they’d found out he was ready to put his product to market; he’d been very close-mouthed, even to the dean and the FDA. There was very little on the ‘net about FI. Almost zero, in fact, except for the usual front page puff pieces. They were big, however. Not Stark Industries big, but plenty rich, and heavily invested in bioscience, from peripheral clues, and they had no obvious ties with the government, or anybody else that might want to misuse or control his work. It seemed like a good bet as a money-partner for his start-up.

He hadn’t realized Frost Industries’ CEO was a blonde bombshell with a taste for leather bondage-wear. All thought of haggling and demanding answers on proprietary process privacy had gone bye-bye. Business was suddenly the farthest thing from Chris’s mind.


She smiled like she knew what he was thinking, or more accurately, thinking with. Sliding into a seat next to him, Frost cupped her narrow chin, looking at Christian thoughtfully.

“I reviewed your work, Doctor Aangher. Very sound research. Frankly, I didn’t understand the more arcane bits, but friends of mine who are more up on the chromosome business assure me it will work. Your work rivals Doctor Rao’s research into the so-called mutant “Cure”. I am quite convinced your little prenatal test will succeed in doing what you say it will!”

She said that last part with a brilliant, practiced, congratulatory smile, but there was a strange tone underneath her voice that drew Chris’s eyes away from her undulating, leather-clad chest and back to her eyes, trying to analyze what his hindbrain was hinting at.

It wasn’t the voice.  It was her smile. Like she doesn’t smile much, and for the wrong reasons. Watch her face idiot, not her tits: millions may be riding on what you do here tonight!

It was pretty hard. The half-closed lacing on her corset didn’t really close her front up as much as invite you to think about tit-fucking those huge, silky knockers. Her skin was almost as white as her snowy raiment.

Frost smiled knowingly, “Ah, but I sense your mind isn’t really on business right now.”

“Sorry,” he repeated nervously, shaking his gaze back to her face, “I just wasn’t expecting-,” he motioned to the sea of partiers, and the sexual morsels scattered around them, then her, “-a place like this. Or you, Miss Frost. You are, well, very beautiful, you know?”

She leaned back on the bar, chuckling, “I do. What a nice boy you are. Yes, these are my old stomping grounds. The Hellfire Club is dedicated to burning merrily, and you can’t do that without some very hot women, not so? I felt I should dress the part-!” she traced a thumb just above the stiff leather rim of her corset. He caught a flash of pink. Her nipples must be barely inside her top. Another motion at her hip caught his glance. She had a fucking riding crop thronged to her leather panties! She was an inducement to rape, but whose rape?!

Emma’s shark-like smile widened, “Even my boyfriend hasn’t seen me in this outfit in a very long time. Feel honored, Christian. May I call you by your given name? A first name is so much more…intimate?”

She leaned close, so close he could smell the lacy perfume on her neck. Her gloved hand stroked over his thigh.

“You’re quite an attractive young man yourself, by the way. I wasn’t quite expecting that. Not the college lab-geek at all. You can call me Emma, if you like….”

Chris’s heart rate went through the roof. Around them, the clink of glasses and susurration of conversation made her soft words intimately private.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we adjourn this meeting, and you can tell me all about your test after you’ve relaxed a bit? In private.” she said huskily.

Chris’s pulse hammered, heart in his throat. She hadn’t moved an inch closer to touching him than her hand resting on his leg, but he swore he felt her run her tongue over his ear….or like he remembered her running her tongue over his ear, if that made any sense! The physical sensation was as intense as it was phantomal.

He tried imagining touching back, of laying this cold/hot woman down on a bed and…..

Was she really proposing we…..

Chris knew he wasn’t bad looking. Unlike the stereotype of the college nerd, Chris was neither overweight or rail thin. He tended to miss meals while working rather than over-eat on fast-food, and he ran to burn off the regular frustrations of nature being a coy little bitch under his microscope. Plus, he had never succumbed to the local tendency to gobble down fast-food like he was being paid to do it. There was this thing called White Castle….He liked the U.S., but some traditions he could do without.

With soft dark hair, blue-grey eyes that recalled the North Sea, and a gymnast’s build, Chris knew he could be attractive to women, but he never had time. Especially with the never-fail approach of “-oh, I’m a foreign-exchange student. Ja. That’s why the accent. You like it?”

But he didn’t have time. Six years at university gone by and he could count his relationships on no fingers. Or five fingers. He was an American college cipher – the non-partier, in one of the most party-worthy cities on the planet.

His lab assistants and school friends thought him mad for declining so many invitations from willing local girls, doubly so with all his natural advantages. They called him a “wingbat”, an obscure bit of Yankee derogatory slang he had to look up. It meant “nuts, but inventive”, more or less. If they saw him here in this underground sex-club, making cow-eyes at an approach by a looker like Emma Frost, they would have laughed themselves sick, and be certain he really was crazy.

All that flashed through Chris’ head in a second. Having a mega-babe put the moves on had all those ignored hormones rushing back, and left him wondering if he needed condoms, or if she was planning to handle that little detail.

My research. Babies. Think about Emma and babies…..ARRRGH, not that way you idiot! Business first!

The worst part was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get in deep with her, sexually-speaking. She was attractive, yeah, but there was a jarring note to the woman, like admiring a dolphin cavorting in the water and suddenly realizing it was a shark.

I don’t think I want this woman he thought uneasily. She is too…mean.

Before an awkward let-down could tumble off his lips, that knowing smirk came back on her face.

“Oh, not me, my dear Christian! I told you, I have a boyfriend. I simply couldn’t look him in the eye if I went around bedding every adorable bio-geneticist that crossed my path!”

She laughed, as if at some private joke, showing perfect white teeth. The gene-doctor in him noted they were too perfect, as was the rest of her. Again he thought of the shark simile. She’d been the recipient of very high-quality plastic surgery, so high-quality he couldn’t pin down what was her and what was modified, not without an MRI. Surely those huge tits could only be silicone at the core, right?

He was body-watching her again despite his misgivings, and he could see she knew it.

Dang it! Focus, man!

“Miss Frost, ah maybe it would be better if we just met instead at your office, or, ahhhh…” Chris began, face heating.

She tut-tutted, “No, I can sense you need to unwind, Christian. It’s like I’m reading your mind, it’s so clear to me. You need a break, and very much a woman. And if you can’t find a woman in the Hellfire Club, you’re doing it wrong.”

Emma Frost smiled again, and there was something disturbing in those perfect white teeth, reminding him yet again of a remorseless predator. “Besides, I have the perfect little girl for you tonight.”

She snapped her fingers. Out of the crowd on the greeting floor a lithe, athletic figure came. She didn’t hurry, but she  padded rapidly up to the bar area, mounting the broad steps separating them with cat-like grace.

Where Emma was flashy and proud, this woman, barely more than his own age, was dark and reserved. Her hair was a solid black mass, falling straight down her back and around her shoulders until the tips brushed over her half-cup bikini top. She had small breasts tightly wrapped in an X-shaped pleather harness, each neatly defined in shape and as full around as an orange.

A bit of an ass and leg man, Chris was more interested in the way her legs were encased in an oh-my-god tight set of polished animal-skin jeans, so tight they were practically painted on her. She had a belt of gold interlocking rings looped around her waist for show, but she scarcely needed it. Her slim legs had every curved inch molded under the skin-hugging leather.

Just before she reached them, a boisterous and very drunk group of middle-aged men in suits and excited teenage escorts in much less plowed across the bar area, headed for the stairs.

Instead of stopping completely at the obstacle, the dark-haired girl rotated slowly around them in a graceful pirouette, like a moon sling-shoting its way past an annoying set of planets.

As she turned, Chris could see the rear of the jeans had snap-fasteners starting at the ankles, going up the back of her legs, and curving up the swell of her ass to meet at a buckle over the small of her back. With a good strong yank, you could separate those jeans from her in a heartbeat, or turn her whole backside into a set of ass-less chaps. Only a thin leather strap acted as a G-string.

Chris blinked. There were things on the hem of her jeans, right at the points of her hips. They bounced as she walked, and his jaw dropped a bit as he realized they were ribbed plastic grip-handles attached to metal swivel points.

The slinky girl was wearing fuck-me-handgrips.

Her ass was firm and round under the jeans, with wide hips flaring to emphasize her ass-handles, swaying hypnotically from side to side as she panther-walked over to Chris and Emma, one foot directing in front of the other.

She finished sliding around the interruption and stopped in front of Chris and Emma, head lowered so her hair hid her face.

“Christian, this is Laura. Laura, this is Doctor Christian Aangher, the man I told you about.”

“Uh, Hi! Just call me Chris!” he exclaimed quickly, reaching forward eagerly to shake her hand.

Soooo pretty!

She raised her head, looking out through her fine black hair. Laura had the most brilliant set of green eyes he’d ever seen. Not dark green like an Irish girl, but more like really ancient glacier ice exposed to sunlight, pale and slightly luminescent, almost cat-like. Her skin was pale too, very pale, but with a slightly golden umber undertone. With skin like that and her straight black hair, she could be from as far east as Siberia, or local enough to just have some very finely mixed Amer-Indian blood.

Regardless of her ethnic background, she was as stunningly beautiful in her own way as Frost, obsidian to Frost’s diamond features.

She had made no move to shake his hand. Instead, she was looking at him with all the emotional intensity of a china doll, face perfectly neutral.

Chris sat there awkwardly with his hand out, finally realizing she wasn’t going to shake. He put it back in his lap.

“Laura, you’re being rude,” Emma said coolly.

The girl, Laura, turned without expression to gaze at Frost, before turning back to Chris.

“Hello,” she said finally, in a soft voice. Her voice was like….

…like flowing chocolate, like running your hands through a fur rug…Ahhhh, I am getting romantic with what is probably a stripper for the club!!! Fool! Suck it up!!!

“Uhhhhh, yeah, hei,” he responded, accent thickening in nervousness, “I’m, uh, Chris.”

D’oh! I already said that!

“Yes,” she said gravely. She blinked, as if she had forgotten to do so. She was….really still, not the slightest random movement. The only movement she did make was the way the nostrils of her snub nose flared, regular as a metronome.

A doll that breathes.

Chris stared back, entranced. She was really pretty, features so regular she could be a doll, but with the tight body of a professional dancer or gymnast. Her beauty was both less and more obvious than Frost’s, and he couldn’t stop staring.

Breaking the increasingly awkward silence, Emma spoke, “Christian, why don’t you take Laura and get acquainted in solitude; the party is getting a bit wild out here. Laura knows which room. I have some other business to take care of beforehand. I’ll speak to you again in a few hours.”

She slid out of her chair and strode away on clicking high-heels before he could pull his divided attention together.

“Wait! Get…acquainted?! You mean-?!

Abruptly, Emma halted, her mink cape flaring behind her as she came back to him.

“Ah! I almost forgot!” she said cheerily, snapping her fingers in remembrance.

She had a small purse in white fur-trimmed leather hung on the inside of her cape. From it she pulled another leather product, this one in black bullhide, with polished steel studs winding around the band it formed. A strong but thin leather strap connected it to a looped handle. She tossed it to Chris.

He turned it over in his hands, blinking at it before the function became clear. He felt his face heating, and not just because he was slow on the up-take.

“A…A dog collar and leash? What the hell?!” he muttered in total surprise, examining it. There was a metal band under the leather, and a small but strong-looking lock to seal the collar. You’d need bolt cutters to get this off if you lost the key.

“Not for you. Her,” Emma replied in amusement to his unspoken question, “In the Hellfire Club, it is always a good idea to keep a leash on your demons. Laura, be a dear.”

The slinky brunette stepped up to Chris. She wasn’t as tall as he first thought, maybe 5’ 5” or so, barely to Chris’s collar bone. Silently, she pulled her hair up, exposing a pale length of neck.

“Put it on her. You’ll be glad for it later. Despite appearances, she’s quite the little animal,” Emma said with relish. She unhooked her riding crop and tapped Laura’s head, “Head down, dear. Make it easy on him, like we discussed.”

“Uhm, I don’t think I can…”

Laura spoke up. Her words had a precise diction, but almost no emotional content. She really was doll-like, he thought.

“Put it on me. Now. I need to be leashed,” she said quietly.

She flopped forward across his lap, dog-like. Just the warmth of her body was enough get him semi-hard.

“Uh…Laura, you don’t have to-YOW!” he yelped.

Chris wore thin black slacks. She had begun gnawing on his erection, straight through the cloth, much like a dog trying to get a grip on a bone.

Under her fan of black hair, she muttered, “Hurry. HURRY. Put the collar on.”

Chris hurriedly snapped the collar around her exposed neck. Laura was biting harder and harder as he clicked the lock shut. It was really painful what she was doing, not playing now at all, and he yanked back on the leash to throw her off him. She immediately closed back, face flushed and mouth open to bite.

“Are you crazy?! Knock it off!” he swore, jerking the leash to bring her up short.

Laura bent to the floor, laying down in again very canine fashion, legs tucked under her chest. She bent her head to look up at him, expression indefinably different. Less animalistic, more soft and biddable.

“Sorry…but you don’t go around biting people you just m-”

“I humbly apologize, Master.”

He got a spurt of heat, having her call him that. Shit.

Emma patted Chris on the shoulder, “That’s the way. Show her a firm hand! I shall leave her to your tender mercies, Chris. Or vice-versa, as the case may be. Remember, don’t let go of the leash now! Ta!”

He jerked around red-faced to watch Laura’s…boss? (Madame? Pimp?!)…disappear into the floor crowd. Even her striking appearance was camouflaged by the bright clothes and wild hair styles of the other female staff. Blondes, brunettes, redheads…there was even a striking purple-haired asian woman kittening herself in the lap of a young blonde college kid, both doing scandalous things to each other in very little clothing.

He sat there on his stool, wondering what to do with a teenage hottie on a dog-leash.

Privacy. Right.

Having an audience for this was too much.

“Laura, c’mon. Get up off the floor and look at me.”

He meant stand-up and take a seat next to him civilly, but she squatted on the floor instead, looking up at him.

“You don’t have to do what she says.” he said firmly, gently tugging up on the leash. Oops.

“No,” Laura agreed calmly, still on her haunches.

Chris beamed, “So what do you want? What do you think we should do?”, sure the kid was worried about Frost’s reaction. That must be why she was so-

“Take me upstairs and fuck my brains out,” she said with careful enunciation. Without waiting for him, she turned and headed for the stairs on all fours, dragging a befuddled (and extremely horny) researcher behind her. She was really strong for her size.

The only good part- Chris thought in bewilderment, watching Laura’s ass roll back and forth as she crawled along –is that this club is so “Eyes Wide Shut” nobody even gives a second glance at me taking away a sexy teenage girl on a dog leash!


Laura dragged him to their suite. It was as sumptuous as the rest of the club.

Opening directly into the bedroom area, there was a mattress beyond king-size directly ahead of the door, low and wide enough to sleep six comfortably. Its white comforter matched the white and black striped wall décor, and there was Victorian (and probably extremely expensive) furniture scattered around the room, rich wood and richer leather padding.

Chris blew out a breath, while simultaneously eyeing the generous curve of Laura’s backside. At least we’re out of the lime-light!

Despite his embarrassment, he was getting turned-on again. He’d never done anything this kinky before. He kinda wondered what her ass would feel like under his fingers, covered in that black leather.

Once he shut the door, Laura crawled rapidly forward, getting up on the bed. It nearly pulled the leash out of his hand. He snagged the loop with two fingers before it could drop. She looked behind her, around the swell of her leather-clad ass.

“Do not let go of the leash. It would be bad,” she whispered.

Chris dutifully double-wrapped the lead around his hand, “Look, why are you doing this? Is she paying you to-”

“I do what I am told, Master,” Laura interrupted. She kneeled on the bed, hands between her legs, again very dog-like, “Tell me what to do. I am your pet right now.”

Exasperated by her un-informative (but naughty) response, he yelled, “Why don’t you roll over then!”

Laura promptly flopped on her back, legs and arms curled up in the air. The limited length of the leash pulled Chris crotch-first against her butt.

Chris could feel the heat of her skin through the leather. It made him painfully aware of his erection trying to close the distance between them. Emma was right; he did like dark-haired hotties like this.

“Sit up, Laura,” he muttered, a bit less forcefully than he wanted to. “C’mon, quit the bloody act.”

Laura rolled back to her knees. Instead of sitting demurely, she draped her arms over his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair while she hovered her lips over his mouth.

“You want me. I want you to want me – to take me,” she said in a silky tone, “I am your pet, here to perform. Tell me what you want. Give me an order. I am very skilled,” she promised, green eyes glinting.

“So you beg pretty good. Full of tricks, huh?” he asked half-humorously, licking his lips. He was getting into this. “Can you play dead?”

She paused and frowned, face serious, “No. I don’t play dead very well. Pick something else.”

He laughed into her hair, holding her jaw and giving her a long kiss, “Okay. But a real pet wouldn’t be wearing clothes, would she?”

His heart was hammering. Oh hell. Fuck it.

“No,” Laura purred, face getting flushed. Her X-shaped halter had snaps at the corners. One side at a time, she pulled it loose, slowly revealing a plump set of tits, capped by dark, hardened nipples. She threw the top aside and offered one to Chris.

He reached with his tongue, hesitantly at first, then more strongly. Pebbled surface, slightly cool around her breast, but the nipple itself was warm and a firm length in his mouth. He lapped around it while Laura caressed his hair.

“Hnhhh. HhhhhHHHHH!!! Rrrrrrrhhhhharder. Harder!” she begged, breaking into a happy moan as he did so.

Chris pulled on it with his teeth, like he was removing a cork. He switched up, treating her other nipple the same. Laura panted, looking directly in his eyes as he molested her sensitive nubs.

She’s more…alive now? Yeah, more responsive now, for sure he thought, pushing her back. Switching hands with the leash, he disrobed awkwardly, finally letting Laura work his pants off. She took her time, nuzzling at the rigid cock inside the black cotton-nylon.

“No more biting!” he said warningly, giving a tug on the leash.

“Yes, master,” she whispered, easing his pants down, then very carefully grabbing the hem of his shorts with her teeth, easing them down an inch at a time until his hard-on sprang free to bop her in the nose.

The doll look was completely gone as she looked up, face bisected by his flexing cock. She smiled wolfishly, face intense, pink tongue teasing at his balls.

“Yes…it’s better when they’re big like this!”

“You like bigger cocks?” he asked lightly, feeling a little ego-smug. He was incredibly hard, but he’d always considered himself only upper-average. But when a sexy girl said it was so……

Well now! Fuck, I think she’s making me bigger than usual! Leaning back in bliss with closed eyes, he felt her warm, wet tongue slather up and down his cock, her hot breath puffing against the spit-coated skin.

“Yes,” she repeated,” licking up the length of his shaft, “I like the big ones. A big cock reaches the right spots inside me. Deep, deep inside.” Her left hand was busy down between her thighs, shlick-schlicking. “I want your big cock inside me. Now.”

“Well, if you want my big bone, be a good bitch and present, then!” Chris ordered huskily, pulling sideways on the leash.

She crawled around, sinking down onto her arms and raising her ass high. Chris started at the legs, unsnapping the inner part of her…..they were kind of like cowboy chaps without the middle….and peeling the inner part off her one snap at a time. It left her naked, yet confined by a solid bar of leather and buckle over the swell of her butt, tantalizing the way it suggested confinement and still left her nude.

Sliding his hand over her cool rump, he examined the way her ass twitched as he got closer to her much hotter cleft. Reaching under her, he patted her pussy. His hand came away smeared.

“G-Good girl,” he chuckled, face heating as he guided his cock alongside his hand. He pumped his hips, rubbing against her wet pussy.

Laura grunted like an animal in heat as he prodded her clit, rocking back to join his motion. She dribbled onto his cock as the friction parted her pussy lips. She got faster and more urgent the longer it went on.

“You’re a hungry little doggy, aren’t you, Laura?” he asked, gripping the cross-strap of her chaps to jerk her faster and coordinate their fuck-motion.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Do you want the rest of it?” he teased, getting into being completely in charge of her.


Her voice was excited now, not remotely doll-like.

“Beg for it properly, doggy-girl!!!!”

“RRRRRR!!!!! Raaaaaaa!!!!” she howled, frantically wiggling her pussy over his length. Their position, and the good tight grip on her leash, meant she didn’t have enough slack to get forward and drop his tip against her slit.

“No!” Chris admonished, “Beg the right way! Speak!” he gave her ass a slap.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee, MAAAAAASSSSSSSSTEEEERRRRRR!!!!!” she hissed, gyrating on top of his cock.

Chris pushed her onto the bed, set his cock on her quivering pink entrance, and yanked her back up, one hand on her collar, one on her back handle. She proved insanely tight. So fucking tight…..

“Yaaaahhhh!!!” she cried.

Her black hair swished around his face while he pounded in short, hard strokes. She was wet, but very tight, and he thought he felt something resist his cock on the first stroke.

“L-Laura..don’t tell…you were…Was that your hymen?!” he grunted in shock, trying to hold her to him as she wriggled in his arms and on his cock.

“N-Not anymore,” she panted. Then she said something he would have found extremely odd, if he had time or attention to think about it: “The first time for me is always surprising.”

Chris was too caught up in their frenzied love-making to pay much attention, however. Once Laura had his cock inside, she seemed to take that as permission to fuck like a goddamn animal, shaking her ass like a dog and making her pussy spasm around his cock every time they slammed together with a squelch of wetness.

Chris was beginning to understand why Emma had given him the leash; she was a little sex monster under that pretty but bland exterior. Her muscles were similarly well-developed – he had to practically choke her to hold her still.

Giving up on the gentle approach, Chris shoved her forward. Laura flopped back on all fours, this time with a cock pounding into her pussy in a rapid tattoo.

She likes it deep, huh? Try this on for size, cutie! Chris smirked.

He grabbed the swivel handles attached to her hips.

Whoever thought of them was a genius. He’d give her a little slack with the leash, then slam her back with all the force of his upper body, assisted by the leverage of her built-in grips, practically impaling her on his cock.

“Guuuuh!! Ahhhhhh!!! Fuuuaaaaahhhhh!!!!!” Laura groaned, shakily holding herself up on her hands.

There was this sucking/popping penetrating feeling as he nailed her all the way down to the puckering end of her pussy.

I have to be getting inside her cervix. First her hymen, now this! Jesus, most girls would probably be screaming in pain…..

“More….Moooooore!!!” she called gutturally, ramming herself backward.

They set a serpentine rhythm: Laura undulating her body so her ass snapped down on his cock right when Christian yanked back, then let her bounce off his hard stomach to roll forward…but too far forward. The long, slamming strokes darkened the white comforter with her spraying juices, as the little barbaric fuck machine got wetter and wetter, hydraulic force working her juices out of her cunt.

Chris was out of control. In the moment, all his previous worries – hell, his multi-million dollar deal! – forgotten. He’d seen a psych study once in med school – a guy’s intellectual abilities went down almost by the square root in proportion to having a fuckable, available female in the vicinity.

Nothing wrong with that. We’re all built as animals, when you get down to it…..

He let the leash unspool as Laura rocked forward again, then viciously yanked it back. Laura gagged and grabbed at the collar, as she was pulled up against him. Chris reached around, holding her to him with a hand on her throat and his forearm stuck between her bouncy breasts.

Her hair was heavy with her perfume, a lilac-scent that almost overpowered the sweat n’ sex of her body. Chris was going a little out of his head with lust.

“Don’t fight me. Put your hands on your head. Just use your ass!” Chris grunted in her ear, “Show me how you can use that sexy ass, doggy-girl!”

“Unh!! D-Don’t let go of the leash, master! Annnnn-HHHH!!!” she moaned back, gyrating her phat little ass on his prick. Her hands went back, cupping his head to her, running fingers through his hair.

There was nothing like being right: she was even better with her pussy getting hammered in micro-thrusts that didn’t separate their skin by more than an inch, and she was talented. If she mis-timed her bounces, she’d pull off his cock…and neither of them wanted that.

“Unh! UNH!!! AAAKKKHH!!!” Laura half-screamed. Her fingers scrambled in his hair, snagging it, tensing his scalp painfully with each stroke of his cock.

Chris panted, amazing friction and heat coursing up and down his shaft. He wondered why he hadn’t been dating before, if there were girls like her. He wondered if he could date her, instead of….renting her.

He bent further, and their lips met. Hers were soft, slightly puffy. The kiss was soft, deep, loving, completely unlike the animalistic intercourse. Their tongues tangled, pushing back and forth from each other’s mouths. He was getting a bit uncoordinated with his thrusts, hips and head going light.

Getting close…Fuck….Fuck, I don’t want this fucking to end…..

Laura seemed to pick up on the change of tempo, changing her backstroke to stay with him with consummate sexual skill.

“You’re getting close, master?’ she asked, pinned against his chest. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, “You want to come inside me?”

“Yeah….” he breathed, entranced at the idea.

“You are not wearing a condom,” she noted, wiggling on his twitching cock to emphasize the point.

Chris’s eyes went huge as he snapped out of his lust.

Oh shit! Talk about lowering intellect! he thought in panic, impaled on the horns of a dilemma. He didn’t want to make her pregnant, but he certainly didn’t want to pull out.

“Let me forward, master. Just a bit,” she requested softly.

Massively reluctant, Chris loosened his grip and gave her some slack, presumably so she could pull out. Swollen purple-red and slippery with her juices, his cock slipped from between her ass-cheeks.

He grimaced in displeasure. Even blowing his cum on her bowed spine and pretty black hair wouldn’t be the same as the primal urge to release it inside her warm, clinging pussy-

Laura caught his cock from underneath, set it firmly against her cleft, and pushed back slowly.

That’s not her pussy! was the very un-original thought that bounced through his head.

Chris coughed in surprise as astronomically tighter, hotter girl-parts fought back against his burrowing cock. He grabbed her hip handles in shock, looking down just in time to see the last inch of his dick spread open (and into) her flexing asshole.

“I like anal,” she said in a normal voice, but with a lioness-with-a-fresh-gazelle-haunch satisfaction underneath.

Chris could only groan as her beyond-tight ass milked and squeezed his manhood.  Tight, so fucking tight and hot; he wanted to worship that ass as much the woman it was a part of. Wanted to hold her and screw her brains out forever and ever and ever….


Smell, feel, even the taste of her skin as he ran his tongue over the back of her neck; this was the best sex of his life. Chris tried counting sheep, reciting protein sequences, anything to keep him from falling off this amazing wave they were riding together. He wanted to make it last not just for his pleasure, but for hers, too.

I think…I think I love her? Is it supposed to happen this fast?!

That light, airy feeling in his body drew down to a point, becoming the heat before a lightning strike. The electricity focused in his balls, then shot outward.

“AaaaaaaHHHHHHH!! Yes, Chris, yes! Yes!!!!!! Inside!!! Spray it all inside me!!! Fill me!!!” Laura shouted, feeling him swell and start jerking inside her.

He grabbed Laura to him, curling over her with their bodies joined together as they both hissed and shook. Broad hands stroked small breasts. Head tucked in beside hers, he could feel the thunder of her blood, the way her soft, feminine body surged needily against his. Chris was left heavy-limbed, but somehow feather-light, rolling in countless endorphins.

That was….the best. I wish I could keep doing it with her….

To his pleasant surprise, he found he could. Laura spent what felt like hours squeezing and butting over his humming cock. She was as skilled as she was pretty, using her inner muscles to work him into hardness, and yet one more orgasm. He came again and again inside her, feeling like he would never stop. Every time he did, she’d do something unfathomable with her inner muscles to tease one more squirt out of him. The sheets got sweaty and messy, and so did they.

They stayed there as he finally finished, Chris draped around the pale girl in the remains of bondage leathers, both of them breathing hard. He could feel the trickling heat of his cum flowing around his groin as it worked back down and out Laura’s rear end.

Carefully easing out, he gasped as her puckering anal rim gave a final sucking kiss to the tip of his cock. A hard kiss; she wouldn’t let go! He had to work the swollen purple glans out, finally coming free with an audible pop!

Laura stayed still as he grabbed her silky butt, holding her cheeks apart. Her anal pucker seemed to gasp for breath several times before a heavy dribble of white milky cum ran down her crack, over her pink/tan pussy lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, watching in fascination as she continued to ooze his load out of her ass, “Good girl…”

He crawled onto the bed beside Laura, kicking the tangle of pants off his feet in the process.

He reached an arm around her shoulders to cuddle against her body-warmth, rubbing her back, “Thank you. That was amazing!”

“Yes,” she agreed, voice back in ‘doll-mode’.

“You’re really crazy when you want to be, Laura. Any guy would want to be with you,” Chris said, petting her hair, “I certainly would!”

Unexpectedly, she said in a low voice, “Yes, I am that crazy inside. No, many men would not want to be near me,” she disagreed.

With that agile swiftness of hers, she rolled on top of him, straddling him at the hips so her pussy pinned his sensitive cock.

“Hhhh!” he grunted, half in surprise at the weight landing on him, half in shock at the hot and wet folds mashing against his half-rigid cock.

Laura looked down at him, pale green eyes glittering between fallen strands of black hair.

“You let go of the leash, Chris. I told you not to do that.”

Chris blinked, realized the leash was dangling from her neck and grabbed for it. Laura yanked it away with a speed that made the motion of her hand look slow. She reached behind her head and there was an odd sound, a snikt/snakt. The collar parted from her neck, and she threw it and the leash aside. Her half-bra followed.

Oh. There must have been a trick catch to it, so she could pop it open in an emergency he reasoned. Play-restraints. I knew this was just a game!

He ran his hands up her sides, thumbs caressing the soft undersides of her perky chest. Looking at her fully naked showed a slim hour-glass frame outlined under the skin by powerful muscles that rose and submerged as she twisted in his arms.

“Heh, doggy had a secret, huh!” Chris laughed, fingers grazing her nipples. “You aren’t as submissive as you make out?

Laura cupped his hands with hers, sliding over his wrists, down his arms, “Yes.”

She was looking at him very strangely – strange even for this walking, talking doll. Very intense, but with the emotion locked back behind her mask-like face, only showing in her eyes, and the way she slowly panted under his touch. Part doll, part animal. Half and half her previous attitude.

“Well, since you’re on top, what should your master tell you to do noooow?” he asked playfully, reaching for her face.

Laura jerked his hands away, pinning them painfully together above his head on the pillow. He tried to pull free, and his whole hand went numb – a pressure point she was pushing on at the wrist.

Her face sank to within inches of his, wide green eyes becoming his whole field of vision.

“You aren’t the master anymore. You shouldn’t have let go of the leash, Chris,” she repeated quietly.

He felt her other hand touching  his neck. Not her fingers – she was gently rubbing her knuckles against his throat.

“Okay, you got me. Don’t push so hard on my hands, you’re kind of hurting me, Laura,” he complained, wriggling futilely under her. She really had him pinned; she was a lot stronger and heavier than she looked.

“C’mon, let up a little,” he said more forcefully, throwing his hips to try and dislodge her.

“No,” she responded.

She rode him as easily as a rodeo star, never losing her seat. He spent a minute thrashing, but no matter how he twisted, she stayed on top. It wasn’t bad – he could feel her pussy caressing his dick as they moved together, but he wasn’t comfortable with being the “bottom”, and she still had her painful grip on his hands. Chris dropped back, winded and weirded out by her behavior.

She sniffed down his chest, off fist still resting against his neck, right on his carotid artery. She came up with a pensive expression on her face.

“You aren’t bad. Not not-nice,” she wondered.

“No, but I am a little freaked out. Can you let me up?” he said plaintively.

“No,” she said again firmly, “You shouldn’t have let go of the leash.”

She sounded…sad. She was silent a while, contemplating him beneath her, running her hands over his face and body, examining him. Occasionally she leaned for a deep long sniff across his body, practically digging her nose into his chest. It tickled, and it was the strangest post-coitus behavior he had ever experienced or heard of.

Finally, she said, “You wanted to come inside me-,” her off hand came away from his neck, her long fingers caressing her smooth, flat belly, “- come inside the place that makes babies. You like doing that?” she asked.

Chris shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s only natural, right? You’re beautiful, and I’m a guy. What guy wouldn’t? It’s how we’re made as people, Laura. Heck, it’s how people are made!” he chuckled, amused at the double-entendre.

“Are babies better?” she asked.

He relaxed under her as he thought about it.

“Are you asking if I wanted to come inside you, or girls generally? Did Miss Frost explain my work to you? Laura, the answer is both. Sometimes you need to wear protection, or do things, uhm, differently, that’s all. Sometimes babies aren’t the smart play, and it’s a major decision for both partners. That’s why I freaked a little when I realized we had no condoms, sorry.”

He grinned, “But I liked doing things differently with you even more!”

“‘Do things differently’” she repeated with a far-away expression. Her jade eyes came back to him, “But you like babies? You would like to try babies even with me?” she asked, that odd tone in her voice again.

Chris hesitated a moment, but he sensed this wasn’t the time for waffling semantics or more clever jokes. She seemed dead serious.

“I just met you, but yeah, sure, once we got to know each other.” And I think I’m in love with you an hour after we met, and I don’t want to scare you, or sound like a stupid john. Then there is whatever you are to that Frost woman. Am I just a job to you, Laura? he thought silently.

“I would like to know you more, but yes, I could see us, ah, being serious, if that’s what you want. You’re super-cute, and you seem pretty nice,” he said instead.

She frowned, face sad for a second, “No. I am not nice….”

She finally let go of his hands, pulled her knuckles away from his neck.

“…..but I am trying to be. Let’s keep going.”

Her now-free hands went behind her back. Chris stiffened as he felt her fingers probe in very strange places for a moment, caressing, massaging, twitching, and then he was as hard as a board again against her slippery pussy lips. Laura raised herself on her knees, straightened his cock into a impalement device, and dropped.

“UNH!” Chris grunted in mingled shock and pleasure as she slammed down. His cock was extra sensitive from having already come, and Laura’s trained cunt knew it from the way it gripped and released.

She took his hands in hers, bracing as she rocked back and forth on top of him. She moaned in happiness, black hair tossing.

Chris grinned up at her, “So a creampie this time? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Yes,” the sexy doll replied, bouncing them in the downy mattress.

“I just came. It might take some effort! I don’t want you getting tired while doing all the work.”

“I am very sturdy,” she assured him. She still didn’t smile, but he got the oddest feeling she was smiling inside.

“I can’t stay here forever either; I have to go meet Ms. Frost and settle our business-GAAAAAAH!!!!”

He thought she was tight doing it doggy-style. Mounted cow-girl, her pussy closed like claws around his cock, strangling it.

“No. You let go of my leash,” she repeated, twisting lasciviously to reinforce the message, “You are mine now. I can do whatever I want, however long I want.”

“H-how long is this going to take??!!” Chris gasped, grabbing onto her fuck-me hip grips for dear life, trying to keep her still, if only to prolong the sweet fire running through his body. He was minutes away from cumming again at this rate.

Laura continued to ride him vigorously, a veeeeeery faint smile finally appearing on her pale pink lips, “Until you are unconscious. Try to keep up.”

She wiggled her hips for emphasis.

Oh crap.” he squeaked.


Much Later

It was dark in the bedroom. She’d turned down the lights. The dark was soothing, like the cell she had grown up in. Laura sat on the bed next to Chris. Mister Aangher.

No. Doctor Aangher. The kind that heals. Strange that a healer would meet someone like me.

He looked very peaceful asleep, if a bit messy. He’d had more endurance than most of her lovers. Most men gave out at number five or so. Perhaps it was all the stored-up lust he’d had, or his runners’ build. Maybe it was his size; not just in his male parts, but he had such a broad chest, such thick arms to hold her….

Either way, it had been pleasanter than most.

She got down next to his head, looking in fascination at the way his carotid pulsed, thump-thump, thump-thump. Her fingers hovered over it, fairy light.

Suddenly, a pair of silvery claws shot out on either side of her middle knuckles with a quiet snikt sound. The faint light from the bathroom courtesy lamp shone from the razor edges. A tiny drop of her blood hit Aangher’s neck, before the skin re-sealed around the base of her extended adamantium claws. The tips gently grazed his skin, not even a prick.

It would be very quick. The tips of her claws were sharper than most well-made surgical scalpels. She knew how to make it quick, and easy, and he would feel very little pain before he stopped moving. She was very good at doing that sort of thing, and this man that smelled so good was a threat to the whole future. It was her job to end that threat.

That was what she had been told.


Much Earlier

Emma Frost held the collar and leash in front of Laura.

“-after he puts this on you, you will take all direction from him. That is, until he inevitably drops it, men being men. That will be your signal to take him out. Do you understand, Laura?”

“Why?” Laura asked, looking curiously at the leash, and the clothes that went with it. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing she had ever worn.

“Why what?” the White Queen asked, her scent giving off leashed frustration. Leashed. Laura found that quietly amusing.

“Why must I kill him?” X23 elaborated.

“We’ve talked about this: If that test of his hits the streets, we’re doomed. As a species, I mean. Not now, but in five years, or twenty, or fifty. We mutants are not a numerous people, Laura, and nobody loves us. If parents can cheerfully decide to stop having mutant babies, there will stop being a mutant-kind in short order. We have to end this development at its source, before unwise people can take it and turn it into a working product. I already have a team cleaning up his research. All that’s left is what’s in his head, and he has too complex a mind for me to selectively wipe him of that knowledge. Memory wipes aren’t 100% reliable in any case. That leaves…older methods. Doctor Aangher was too smart for his own good,” Emma Frost said, coldly judgmental.

“Does Cyclops know?” Laura said idly, examining the leather bondage wear with the multiple-grip handles and pull-away asspants. It actually looked kind of fun.

Emma was silent for a long moment, “Scott…knows what he needs to know. I do things like this so he won’t have to. That is what I’m made for, and so are you, Laura Kinney.”

She glared at Laura, “Don’t be obtuse, Laura. I know you are neither stupid nor slow, despite this doll-like façade you hide behind. This man will kill untold numbers of our fellow mutants without lifting a finger. Aangher is worse than any Sentinel, than any hate-crazed Purifier. He is a very bad man, and he needs to stop breathing. I can handle the aftermath much better at the Hellfire Club. That’s why we’re meeting him there. All I need you to do…is what you do, X23.”

Her ice-features softened for a moment, “Sometimes unpleasant things need to be done for the greater good, Laura. I picked you for this mission because you’re strong enough to do it, you can do it without making him suffer, and more importantly, you can do it quietly.”



One of the finest pieces of bio-weaponry ever created, Laura hovered her twin blades over his throat, other hand gripping a pillow to squash over Aangher’s head – to muffle the noise and suppress the gout of blood that would erupt. She stayed that way for long minutes, watching Chris snore on, watching his pulse beat. He was blissfully unaware of his impending death.

Her claws went back inside their internal sheaths with a snakt. She sat up, giving a quiet huff of annoyance.

Usually she didn’t hesitate. In battle, it was easy. And she’d assassinated scores more at the command of her Weapon X handlers before escaping to the X-Men. She had thought that being an X-Man meant less killing, not more. Besides, they had always been bad people before. Her nose would tell her that as soon as she was near them. Thinking was not required.

But Chris wasn’t bad, not not-nice. He smelled clean and without real fear. Those who hated hard and feared hard, who liked killing and hurting always had the stench to them – faint blood odors and the sour smell of leftover adrenaline permeated their bodies like acrid smoke. She smelled like that. That’s why she wore such heavy perfume, so she wouldn’t have to smell herself. She stank to high heaven, frankly.

Very carefully – so she wouldn’t wake him – she slid off the bed. She’d take a walk, think things over. Maybe a shower; the perfume was almost as bad as her scent. He wouldn’t wake for some time after the marathon he’d just been through.

Anyway, he couldn’t run from her even if he did wake. She had his scent now. She could track him to the ends of the earth, if necessary. That was the nice thing about killing: you could always do it later.

She stretched cat-like, then strapped herself back into her bondage gear. Snapping close the buttons on her asspants without making too much noise was troublesome, but at least it wasn’t noisy Velcro. She slipped out the door, silently closing it behind her.

Four men were walking down the lone hallway her room was on, faces set and calm, but body-language hurried and nervous. They were fit, dressed in expensive suits that still fit them poorly, as if they had never worn them before now. Their eyes were hard, and they slowed and spread out as they spotted her. They unbuttoned their jackets in unison.

The air conditioning pushed the smell of them to her. Her nostrils flared. They smelled a lot like her own stench.

“It’s the whore he went up with,” the lead man said in disgust. He was big and blonde. He looked military, and smelled of guns and gun oil under his cinnamon aftershave, “He was supposed to be alone by now!”

A slimmer brown-haired man beside him pulled a very black gun from under his jacket. It had a long tubular silencer affixed to its barrel.

“Too bad. She’s pretty.”

He pointed it at Laura’s face and shot her through the eye.

Everything went black.


Get the door open. We have a very small window here!” one man hissed. It was the same slim brown man who had shot her.

Laura woke slumped against the wall. She must have fallen there. She blinked against the blood occluding her newly re-grown eyeball. The blood was still kind of runny. It hadn’t had time to congeal, so she’d healed quickly, no more than a minute or two from being shot. Soft tissue always rebuilt faster in her experience.

The four not-nice men were not-watching her. Three of them were grouped around the door, while one watched the hallway entrance, gun ready but out of easy sight next to his leg. He kept most of his body behind the thick pillar supporting the archway, using it for good cover and concealment. He did not look carelessly around at his fellows in nervousness, keeping to his sector and covering the stairwell, very professionally.

They had military training all right. Soft clicks came from the huddled three. The sharp unpleasant smell of chloroform was coming from one with a wad of cloth in his hand.

It was a snatch team. They must be trying to jimmy the lock, break into Christian’s room, and take him. The door had auto-locked when she shut it. Bad luck for them. Worse luck was that they’d met her. She thought about asking them why they wanted Chris, but it didn’t really matter. He was hers right now, not theirs, and anyway, they were not-nice men.

She stood quietly, rolling her head to loosen up. Ready to proceed, she cleared her throat. All four of them spun towards her, giving that familiar, funny, wide-eyed look at someone they were sure had been very dead.

“Mutie!” the blonde cursed hoarsely, dragging his own silencer-equipped gun free. The brown-hair who shot her was already pointing his. They were all doing so. All their guns were equipped with sound-dampening suppressors.

Oh good. Guns are so noisy, normally. Just that whispery *PHUTT* sound instead.

Laura put her finger to her lips, “Shhhhh. Miss Frost said to do it quietly.”

She dropped her hands to her sides, and let her weight shift forward onto the balls of her feet.

Snikt. Snikt. Snikt. Snikt.

Her claws, two on each hand and one on each foot, popped free.

Laura moved.


“Watch it! WATCH the fucking claw-AAAAGH!!!!”



“Changing! Cover me, goddamnit!!!!”


“Flank her! Jerry, get out of my-NO!!! UUUUUGH!!! Unhhhhhh…Oh god, oh god…..Uk.”


Jesus help us. It isn’t human! Fall back! Fall baAHHHHH!!!”



Get away from me you fucking mutie witch! Just DIE! Why won’t you die?!”  


“You want some more, bitch?! You like that?! I got it right h-!”


They shot her again, many times. Healing factor now in overdrive, she regenerated even more quickly than before. Again and again, the familiar scorching tunnels of pain and heat went through her body, slugs piercing flesh, shredding organs, thudding against her un-armored bones. They broke and reformed with lightning speed. Blood coursed down and through her body, mixing with sweat and the flare of adrenaline. Growth, pain, re-birth, death, mixing like bursting fireworks in her hindbrain, then fading into the thrumming of her pulse as the bullet holes closed up and her claws sliced through her enemies. She felt transported, mind and body sinking into a blood-drenched paradise.

It would be wrong to say Laura enjoyed getting shot, enjoyed killing, but it wasn’t as awful as people thought, not after the first couple of hundred times it happened.

The real problem was getting the lead out later.

And the bodies. There were always too many bodies afterwards. You learned not to look in mirrors afterwards, too. It was scary.

Many hits were center of mass, despite how fast she moved. These not-nice men had very good training, were very skilled. One even managed to do a fast reload after he emptied his first magazine into her.

They fought hard. They died.

It was the same thing to Laura.


Emma Frost lunged up the final turn of stairs, went left on the gallery hall, and ran down the second hallway to the right. Negotiating the little nooks and crannies of the Hellfire Club had always been a trial. The fading mind-screams of the dying were coming from up-ahead, from far more people than she had planned tonight.

Disaster! A bloody fucking disaster!!! I am going to make the head of club security eat his

*To me, my X-Men!* she shouted telepathically. She yanked the quick-release at her throat and her mink cape fluttered off her shoulders. The seething violence where Laura was to deal with Doctor Aangher had been very quiet by sound, but the raw fight-or-flight emotions and shuddering death-screams coming from the ninth level of the club had fairly shouted across the telepathic medium.

*Emma, I’m coming up with Doug!* Psylocke broadcasted back.

Shit! Emma swore to herself.

*No! Stay and guard the stairwell!* Emma hissed urgently across their psi-link, cursing her moment of Scott-ishness when she thought-yelled that stupid battle cry. Superhero behavior was as contagious as herpes. *Betsy, don’t let anyone else up!* she countermanded. *I need a perimeter formed!*

*Roger. We also serve who stand and pose like bloody bimbos* the purple-haired telepath responded testily. Emma could see in her mind’s eye Psylocke and her boy-toy Doug Ramsey settling as casually as possible around stairs down on the club’s main floor, watching for further trouble. She caught a snippy snippet of under-emotion from Psylocke, something to the effect of Emma not being team-leader material.

That’s why I leave Scott to do the fighting, you snotty bitch! Emma thought privately. Should’ve had them guarding the stairwell from the start! Where the devil are my other two minions?!….No, it doesn’t matter. I rather think I don’t want them here now, either.

Emma definitely didn’t want the other half of her miniature squad of X-Men up here if she could avoid it. Given the danger Aangher represented, she had reluctantly brought the others along as security, telling them they were going to negotiate with Aangher, or at worst snatch him. The true wetwork she had given to Laura had been very compartmentalized. She didn’t need her compatriots sticking their altruistic noses in the affair if she could prevent it.

Coming level with the top of the stairs, Emma shifted to her diamond-form secondary power. Her whole body under her white Queen outfit turned to shining organic diamond. She was virtually indestructible this way. However, it also shut down her telepathy.

Either because of the disorientation from suddenly getting cut off from the mind-sea around her, or the way her frictionless diamond feet turned in her stiletto boots as she swerved around the corner too fast, Emma was unprepared for the mess. She slid, slipped, and flailed comically as her feet went out from under her on the drenched floor, diamond ass bouncing off of Italian marble. It turned into a slide that smeared half her body.

“Bloody Christ!” she swore.

Bloody indeed. Her white leather and diamond skin was now covered in dripping red blood. She stared wildly at the carnage around her. Four large men were in four times as many pieces, with their blood spreading out across the floor. Spent brass shell casings dotted the smooth marble, making her footing even more treacherous as she struggled frantically to get away from the horror.

“The floor’s wet,” Laura said laconically, standing at the door to the suite. She was just as splattered as Emma, but it showed less on her black leather and sable hair. The bright red splash across the left side of her face made her pale skin and dilated green eyes alien and distant.

Frost stared warily at the blood-drenched teenage killing machine, slowly getting to her feet.

“You are truly Wolverine’s spawn, Laura. Have I ever told you that?”

“I don’t smoke,” Laura differed, squeezing blood from her hair.

Trying not to look at the torn-apart bodies, Emma asked, “Are you all right?!”

“I healed,” Laura said equitably, with a small shrug, “They should have used something bigger than nine-millimeter. They might have been able to knock me unconscious from blood-loss or ballistic shock if they had.”

“Yes….” Frost said uncertainly. She shifted out of diamond. Even with her telepathy back, Laura was still a closed book. Surface scans on her were nearly useless, just like her genetic sire. Unlike Logan, it was hard to tell verbally when Laura was joking, or even if she joked.

Instead of trading barbs with the little sphinx, Emma quickly stepped over to one of the gunmen. He was fading fast, but there was still a spark there. Making a moue of distaste, she reached out telepathically, diving deep into his mind the second before he died, gathering up as much of his short-term memory as she could in the time remaining.

Her body stumbled backwards as the man rattled his last breath, her shoulders shivering violently. Emma put her head down and took a deep cleansing breath. She hated doing a deep-dive on a deader like that, even when it was necessary……

Laura pointed towards the stairwell, drawing Emma’s eyes.

Two more people ran up, but they were street-wise enough not to slide into the abattoir Laura had turned the suite’s cul-de-sac into.

Bozhe moi,” Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin muttered in shock. The giant black-haired Russian reflexively and nearly instantly turned from flesh and blood to his towering organic-steel alter ego Colossus. The living statue twisted around, looking for additional threats as his steel fists opened and closed. Unlike Emma, he made no effort to distance himself from the carnage, quickly walking to the door, bare metal feet becoming tacky with blood.

“Is Doctor Aangher unharmed?!” he barked.

Laura interposed herself before he could reach for the door handle and forcibly invade their room.

She put her red-coated claws to her lips, “Shhhhh. You’ll wake him. He’s fine. He’s still sleeping.”

Over-topping her by two feet and outweighing her by close to a quarter of a ton, the metal man visibly re-considered shouldering his way past X23.

Khorosho,” he replied more quietly, stepping back and returning to his only slightly-smaller human form. It meant “Very good” in Russian. In English, it sounded phonetically more like “Horror Show”. Both were apt at the moment.

“I...*cough*…made sure…to be…*cough**cough*quiet!” X23 added lurchingly. Laura began coughing more and more violently.

The other newcomer, Kitty Pryde, rushed to Laura’s side, “Are you all right, Laura? Are you injured?!”

The girl made a wait-a-moment gesture. Laura gave the mother-of-all hairball hacks, then spit. Something hard and metallic tinked onto the red-streaked marble floor. Kitty bent to examine it with a fingertip.

It was the jagged flower of a hollow-point bullet, the mushroom of dull lead surrounded by brighter copper petals and bits of Laura’s blood. From the size of the un-exploded end, it was a hollow-point round from the chopped-up auto pistols and submachine guns scattered among the dead men.

“Sorry,” Laura rasped quietly, wiping her bloody lips, “I had something…in my throat. Hard to get the lead out.”

“Riiiight.” Kitty, a young brown-haired woman about Laura’s size, with a dancer’s body and an odd hard/gentle face, began carefully studying the now-deceased assailants, rifling pockets and tossing aside wallets after studying them. If the fact that her Hellfire Club “fun” outfit left her bare ass swinging in the breeze and her small B-cups were cupped by the front of her corset top until they were popping out bothered her, she didn’t let it show. She had on a deep umber lipstick that made her large brown eyes glow like liquid chocolate, but it seemed far too racy an outfit to go with her lived-in face, or the abattoir the hallway had become.

This wasn’t exactly her first visit to a slaughterhouse scene, not for someone who had hung out with Wolverine through her formative years. “Nothing here. Totally sterilized I.D’s.” Kitty glanced at X23, “Who were they, Laura?”

Laura just shrugged. It didn’t matter now.

Frost replied instead, rubbing her forehead tiredly, “Purifiers. One of Aangher’s research assistants blabbed what he knew to a blogger. He didn’t know anything substantive, but it was enough for the blogger, and the blogger was a Friends of Humanity supporter. From there it went to the Purifiers, they being so much better equipped and trained for this sort of thing. They sent these men to retrieve Aangher and get the proprietary knowledge, however they had to. Our old friend William Stryker keeps on giving!” she concluded acidly.

Purifiers were a quasi-military/religious order, drawn from the more dedicated (and extreme) members of the anti-mutant fringe. They were far more dangerous than the average run of hate-group vigilantes, because many of their members were either former military, or had been carefully trained and equipped to military standards. Their leader had been William Stryker, a former US Army officer turned demagogue televangelist, and a dedicated anti-mutant crusader. He was dead now, but the organization he had founded was both resilient and well-funded by those who feared mutants.

Now there were four less.

“They knew they had a reliable way to stop the ‘mutant scourge’ forever, and they wanted a close-hold on the process until Aangher could spill his guts. I suppose it never occurred to them that he would just do it for enough money. Violent, short-sighted bastards,” Emma sneered in anger, futilely trying to wipe the blood free of her garments. She succeeded only in smearing it more widely.

Et tu, Emma?” Kitty snarked, “Are we still on for kidnapping this evening, or are you just going to wipe the poor guy’s mind?”

Do grow-up, Pryde, and spare me your liberal fig-leaf hypocrisy,” Emma said coldly. “I didn’t force you to come along on this jaunt to hush up the good doctor.”

“I came because of you, Emma, not Aangher!” Kitty snapped. “Your idea of a ‘successful mission’ is…..is this!” It was not a comradely endorsement of trust. Neither woman liked each other very much. To put it mildly.

“I am doing what is necessary!” Emma growled back, “Unless you and Peter want to be having the only mutant babies for the next however-long, shut up and help me!

She took a writing pad from the small courtesy desk in the hallway. It was miraculously neither covered in blood or destroyed. Emma quickly scribbled a note and tore it off the pad. She thrust it at Kitty.

“You’re the least besmirched here, therefore the least likely to draw comment. Take this to the concierge at the front desk. His name is Rafael. Use my name. Tell him we have some ‘spillage’ on the third floor and need a clean-up crew. He will be discreet, and thorough with the bodies.”

Emma quirked a small unpleasant smile, “We have excellent incinerators down below. This is the Hellfire Club, after all.”

Kitty made no move to take it, looking at the White Queen angrily.

“You’ve never changed Emma. Kidnapping. Torture. Men killed. Bodies disappearing in the night….The Professor should have never let you in the Mansion!

Real anger of her own broke through Emma’s holier-than-thou façade. She cocked her head, doing a quick surface scan of Kitty’s recent memory. It was a reflexive, invasive act for a telepath, Xavier’s mewling pleas for personal privacy be damned.

Oh, I see! You feel dirty for being involved! Oh my! Did you ever demand that Wolverine be kicked out, Kitty?! That he stop doing what he does best, that he show mercy?!” she said furiously. “We both know Logan’s killed far more than I ever have!”

The note crumpled in her hand and she threw it at Kitty’s chest. It went straight through the younger woman’s torso, as if she were a ghost….or a shadow-cat.

“No, you did not! You closed your eyes repeatedly to the fact that your mentor and best friend is a bloody-handed killing machine whenever the mood strikes him! Why? Because he performs a necessary function!! Just like me! Just like Laura here!!!

She thrust a finger at Pryde.

Besides which, you and Peter were supposed to intercept any fools like this before they interfered! That is the only reason I brought you along! But instead of being the inner security perimeter for this operation, you both were enjoying yourselves in the Green Door Room like a couple of love-besotted teenagers!”

Kitty turned beet-red at the admission, hands suddenly showing she was conscious of her slut-wear after all, as they roamed from half-cup corset to teeny-tiny thong in an attempt to cover something of her nudity.

“We apologize, Emma,” Peter put in, looking embarrassed as well, although not because of the similarly revealing bare chest and slick leather codpiece he wore. It had a zipper down the front, and Kitty’s lipstick smeared over the hard crest of the cup. The male bondage gear really wasn’t that different in coverage from his normal hero-outfit, but it was considerably more risqué in design. When you spent your time crashing through walls and trading punches with super-strong opponents, you wore as little as possible to avoid excess ripped clothing. Having easy access tonight was merely a sexy plus for his girlfriend Kitty.

“We…We have not been together in a very long while and I am afraid the Hellfire Club worked its magic on us,” the Russian said ruefully, “We should have been more attentive or these men would still be alive. Badly beaten, yes, but alive.”

Emma snorted, “I don’t have a problem with you and Kitty enjoying your reunion, Peter. But NOT on company time!”

He dipped his head, accepting the rebuke, “As you say.”

Kitty retrieved the crumpled note, “Fine. I’ll go get the ‘clean-up’ crew, but what are we going to do about Aangher?” she asked grudgingly.

Nearly forgotten in the furor, Laura spoke up in a troubled voice, “Did you still want me to kill him, Miss Frost?”

Oh, fuck a duck,” Emma groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead. She recoiled in disgust when it came away bloody.

KILL HIM?! Emma, what the hell-!” Kitty started heatedly, fists balling.

“This was not the plan,” Peter said quietly, looking from Emma to Laura, “You said we would take Doctor Aangher into protective custody, and protect ourselves by doing so. Convince him to do the right thing. A gentle, sociable kidnapping mission, yes, not a plan to murder him.”

Colossus shifted back to steel. Laura’s blank expression didn’t change, but she faced him squarely, not moving from the door. Knife-blades winked from her knuckles. Her green eyes were flat and empty as an un-filled coffin.

“This was always the plan, Peter,” Emma said, suddenly weary, “This was on me and Laura. Not you two, nor anyone else. Just….go downstairs and get a drink or something, will you?”

“You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner, Emma! You don’t get to decide who lives and dies on a whim! I swear to God, I should stick you in a wall again, but this time leave you there!” Kitty Pryde yelled. A “ghoster” who could turn intangible and walk through solid matter, Shadowcat meant just what she said.

“Keep your voice down!” Emma said forcefully.

“We are not letting you kill this man, Emma,” Peter replied evenly, warily keeping his eyes on Laura as he dealt with the White Queen. Colossus was 500 pounds of organic steel right now, but Laura’s adamantium claws would still go through him like a hot knife through butter.

“You must be joking. I am one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet. I can stop you both with a thought. Don’t make me immobilize you,” the White Queen countered coldly.

“You aren’t fast enough to get past our mental defenses, Emma,” Kitty said with certainty, feet sliding into a fighting stance “Not fast enough to prevent me from bouncing your head off the wall!”

Cute and unassuming, Kitty was also one the dirtiest unarmed combat experts in all the mutant X-teams. She sounded like she was dearly looking forward to giving Emma a concussion.

“And if you shift to diamond, you will have to deal with me!” her looming metal boyfriend promised menacingly.

The four squared off, X-Man to X-Man, eyes flicking between each other. No one could say if matters would have went down a lethally cliché’d road, because just then the door flew open, revealing Doctor Aangher blinking at the brighter light of the hallway and wearing a bed sheet tucked around his waist for modesty.

“Hey, what is all the shouting about?! I-”

He stopped dead at the tableau. His eyes widened at the carnage, the very inhuman appearance of Colossus….and clawed and blood-splattered X23. She hunched away from him, putting a hand in front of her face. It raised her claws at Chris.

Colossus reacted instinctively, diving between them. A metal fist backhanded Laura down the hall before she could react. She bounced off the wall like a rag-doll, down the hallway, skidding across the floor and smashing into a courtesy table in an explosion of wood and glass.

Laura, Nyet!!!” Colossus shouted.Dr. Aangher, get ba-!!!”

Piotr Nikolaievitch never got a chance to finish. Seeing a seven-foot tall steel man charging him, and striking a girl he had gotten very fond of in a very short time, Chris reacted like his Viking ancestors, swinging in to meet a walking tank.

All he could think of was: SOMEBODY HIT LAURA!!

Get the fuck away from her!!!!” he was screaming in antiphonal chorus to Piotr’s warning shout. He threw everything he had into a puny right-cross at the charging statue-man.

But when he his fist connected with Colossus, it wasn’t so puny. It was the same size as Piotr’s upper body, and just as wide. There was a tremendous KA-THUMP, like a semi-truck hitting a wall of beef. Colossus smacked away from the impact, flipping through in-substantial Shadow-Cat to smash halfway through the far wall. Marble shards and concrete dust flew outward from the crater he made. Chris fell over on his ass…..

….Leaving Doctor Christian Aangher half-stuck in the doorway to his suite, nearly twelve feet tall. His arm stretched across the hallway, tree-trunk large, each finger as wide as Shadow-Cat’s waist (where they were currently pointing through).

“What? WHAT THE HELL?!” he shouted.

He jerked his head (which was now big as a beachball) and promptly cracked it on the doorjamb. His shoulders stuck. The unexpected impact hurt and frightened him, so he struggled in a panic, ripping out a chunk of the wall to get unstuck. He sat there, hyperventilating as he looked wide-eyed at a suddenly-smaller world. The bedsheet had become (relative to him) about as useful as a hanky, covering very little.

“Owwww! Fuck. W-What the hell…” he mumbled on in a choked voice. He cupped his bruised hand. Hitting metal men with a closed fist hurt.

None the worse for the wear, Laura picked herself up from the remains of the courtesy desk, blinking upward at a naked (and huge) Chris.

“He got big,” she observed.

Kitty stepped through Chris’s arm, trying to help him get untangled from the door, her eyes loyally trying to stay above the belt-buckle, “Uh, Yep. He sure did. Uhm, Emma, did you know Doctor Aangher was a latent mutant before you tried to have him whacked?”

Emma, equally stunned and for once at a loss for a witty comeback, mumbled, “I…Cerebro, it isn’t perfect, especially for latents…How did…I would never kill a mutant child….”

“Well, don’t you feel stupid?” Kitty supplied cattily. That earned her a glare, but it snapped Emma from her frozen state.

Laura stepped carefully over Chris’s sprawled leg (which was now the size of a tree trunk) and tugged Emma by her cape, looking to the taller woman.

“No more killing?” she inquired.

Emma nodded, still a little shocked at the turn of events, “No…not today.”

“Good. I like him. He’s nice.”

She walked over to Chris, carefully patting him on a leg. He was too busy opening and closing his giant hands in wonder to react to her claws.

“I am…a mutant?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Laura informed him seriously, her claws withdrawing into her forearms with a snakt.

I thought it only happened at puberty…” Chris whispered, face stunned.

“You do understand the definition of ‘mutant’, don’t you, Doctor?” Emma said with an aspersion that showed she was regaining her normal, sharp-tongued composure. A blonde eyebrow quirked: “As in ‘a one-off change from an existing species’? The unexpected, as applied to evolution? A genetic aberration? I am starting to wonder if you’re actually a doctor.”

She looked him up and down, sheer clinical appraisal.

“Hmph. Late-stage activation, completely undetected before now. Highly unusual, Christian. Apparently you are more of a grower than a shower.”

That got a surprised, nearly-hysterical laugh out of Kitty, “A grower– Oh shit, Emma! You’re gonna make me pee!”

“Katya? A little help first, spasebo?” came a muffled call. Colossus was still stuck halfway through the wall, his lower body the only part visible. He looked like a burnished steel Oscar award being used as a wrecking ball. “I could pull free on my own, but it feels like I’m wedged between some support beams. I do not want to bring down the entire floor busting out,” he said calmly.

He didn’t sound upset. If you were a superhero tank, getting smashed face-first through a reinforced wall was…probably just a bad Monday.

Kitty reached over and grabbed her boyfriend’s leg, pulling. As soon she got a solid grip, Piotr went insubstantial as well, and Kitty helped him ghost free of the wall.

Standing tall and solid again, Colossus brushed clean his chest and hair unconcernedly, “We are done fighting now, da? No more assassination attempts or deadly standoffs, da? Da, Laura?-” and, with more emphasis,“-Da, EMMA?

Emma glanced at lilliputian Laura, who was tenderly holding Chris’s gulliver-sized hand with both of hers.

“Yes,” she said pensively, gazing at Laura, “Besides, I don’t think Aangher was in as much danger as you thought…or I might have wished.”

Laura looked over and nodded firmly, “Nice.”

“Now what?” Kitty wondered, glancing around the carnage, the giant in the doorway, and the boyfriend-sized hole in the wall. It was said of the X-Men that no matter where they went, you could tell where they’d been….because it was on fire. Things were running par for the course.

The White Queen took a deep breath. “Now you go get the cleaner crew like I asked, I am going to change, Peter and Laura will wash down, and we will forget this silly escapade ever happened!” Emma said crossly. Her expression changed to a less-than-pleasant smile, “Save for the delightful elimination of a Purifier hit-team and the discovery of our newest brother.”

“Vhat about Aangher?” Colossus asked. “He is still…not travel-sized.”

Chris looked up, coming out of his daze, “I….I don’t want to stay this big!!!” he said, starting to panic, “I would never be able to hold a pen, or get on a subway, or type on a computer, …or…or…!!!”

“I could probably make you a really big keyboard,” Kitty offered innocently.

Emma shot her a look. “Do shut up, Pryde, there’s a good kitty-cat. Doctor Aangher…Christian…please calm down. Most megamorphs – giants, if you will – can adjust their size consciously. There is no reason to think you will be an exception. I suspect you are naturally generating your own Pym particles, which will be a first for science. It could be linked to your emotional state. If you can calm down and reduce your, ah, emissions, you might be able to shrink.”

“Most?! MIGHT?! What kind of diagnosis is THAT?!”

His vocal-cords were so big, it was like listening to a train shout. He might have grown a few extra inches in panic.

“Oh, for god’s sake!! Shut up!! This was supposed to be a covert assassin…I mean a rescue mission. You’ll get us in all sorts of trouble if other Club guests see this!” Emma swore, casting a nervous eye on the stairwell. Even in the Hellfire Club, a naked giant and a room full of bodies would draw comment.

“Can you use your telepathy to anesthetize him?” Colossus wondered. He shrank back to his own smaller, human frame.

“If I wanted to knock him the bloody fuck out!” Emma snapped nastily, “He’s almost as mentally-resistant as you pair of prats! I’d have to really slug him, psionically-speaking, and his trigger might be conscious! I don’t fancy trying to hide a quarter ton of naked college student! The bodies and the wreckage you lot caused are going to be problematic enough!”

Suddenly, Laura spoke up.

“Go. Clean up. Get rid of all the bodies. I’ll help Christian.”

The others looked at her in surprise.

“How can you-,” Kitty started to ask.

“I’ll calm him down,” Laura assured them. She fluttered her hands at them, shooing them away, “Go.”

Shrugging, the other X-Men left one by one, Emma swearing and mincing through the blood. By pushing and shoving with both of her small hands, and getting still-freaked out Chris to scoot his butt backward into their bedroom, Laura got the door closed.

Swallowing hard, Chris looked down at Laura. She was covered in drying blood, and those knives he’d glimpsed…..

She was busy peeling off her partially-trashed and totally-ruined bondage outfit. He noted absently that one of her fuck-me grips was torn off….and were those bullet-holes in her top?!

“Are…are you okay, Laura?” he asked hesitantly. Strangely, he didn’t think of the danger she obviously represented. He was just worried for her safety. She’d had knives in her hands!

“Everybody keeps asking me that today. Most ask it because they are afraid of me, not for me. But you ask because you are afraid for me,” she mused thoughtfully. She cocked her head, green eyes as opaque as ever, “Hmmmm. Should I ask you that? How do you like being a mutant?”

“I…I don’t know. I think it will depend on whether I am ever two meters tall again,” he admitted, trying to avoid smacking his head on the chandelier.

“I will help you,” she reassured.

She walked over to a wall dresser and rummaged in it. Even the sight of her naked, shapely calves, as she tip-toed upward to check a shelf, then bent over a nicely low drawer, couldn’t free Chris from his borderline panic.

Mutancy had been an interesting theoretical question until now, something to be discussed as causes and effects in the abstract language of science and genetics, among other clinical researchers like himself. His prenatal test had been a goal in itself, not something that would affect real people. He realized with dull shock that if his parents, good people though they were, had access to his formulas, he had a very good chance of not existing, wiped from life as a worrying, possibly dangerous inconvenience.

He wanted nothing so much as return to normal in that moment, to go back, for somebody to hold his hand and tell him it was all right.

A giant fist clenched. No, be a man. Don’t give in to panic. Panic won’t help. The worst that happens is that I need plus-size pants, and Laura….I have her to help me. No, that isn’t bad by a long shot.

“You, Miss Frost, that metal man…are you…X-Men, Laura? Mutant superheroes? Like on TV?”

“Yes.” Laura hmmmed distractedly. “No. Not here. Maybe in the bathroom? I need to clean off anyway,” She stalked off, waving absently to him, “Stay.”

Chris waited, see-sawing between nervous panic as he tried to picture the future, and wonder at his changed body. He looked down. Everything was huge. He tried to relax, to shrink like Frost suggested, but nothing happened.


Laura came back out minutes later, black hair heavy and shiny with water. Apparently she wasn’t a woman to monopolize the shower for hours on end. She carried a clear bottle of fluid with her, with a purple cap.

Unconcernedly, she crawled between his sprawled legs. Chris was forced to lean back against the bedframe, which creaked alarmingly. Laura took her time, carefully examining his tree-trunk legs, the way his thigh muscles shivered like a horse when she tickled the scattered dark hairs, the wide expanse of hands.

He felt himself calming down, feeling her nuzzle against a tabletop-sized palm. Her warm breath was the same as before. She looked up, green eyes startling bright in the low light of the room. He thought he saw her smiling.


“Shhhhh. I will help. I promised.”

With a gymnast’s grace, she hopped up on his right thigh, balancing effortlessly. Beam walking up his thigh, she stepped on to his chest. An ab rolled under her foot, making her sway.  He instinctively cupped her bottom, steadying her. She was warm and soft, and still damp from the shower, and the last of his nervousness faded.

His erection, however, came roaring back. Rearing Twice his normal size, his cock was a baseball bat thumping against her back, as Laura straddled his lap. Conveniently, it wedged tightly and firmly in her ass-crack. She took the opportunity to give herself a backrub on it, arching back so her spine rubbed over his swollen cockhead, much like a cat with a convenient post. She clearly had an itch to scratch.

“Mmmmmm. It is better bigger,” she purred. She reached back over her head, coursing her hands across the hot curves of his cockhead. She flicked him a glance, “Are you afraid?”

Chris was fascinated by her, her hair, the feel of her skin. His hands, giant and gentle, roamed across her body. She nibbled on a thumb as it grazed her cheek, still coursing her ass up and down his cock. It took Chris a second to realize she was talking.


“Are you afraid of me?” she elaborated.

“I’m the giant,” he countered, soothed by the up-and-down grind of her ass, “Fe-fi-foh-fuhm, right? Enemy of heroes, stomper of Englishmen, and all that. A giant freak of nature. Aren’t I the dangerous one?”

She shook her head sadly, “No.”

Raising her hand in front of him, there was a sharp snikt and a pair of metal claws slid out from between her knuckles.

He took her wrist gently, examining the silver metal, the way small drops of her blood smeared across the perfect sheen of the cutting edges. They looked insanely sharp, as good as any surgical scalpels he’d ever used in school, and they were inside her.

“These….they aren’t a mutation, are they? Somebody did this to you, didn’t they, Laura?”

“Yes. But I use them,” Laura said in a soft, troubled voice. She kept her eyes off his face. “I was supposed to kill you tonight, Chris. Quietly. Quickly. I am dangerous, Chris. I am…not-nice.”

He struggled with his feelings: the image of her standing in the pool of blood right outside the door, the soft feel of her body against him now. Intellectually, he knew he should be slowing down, drawing away from her. She was dangerous, in ways his own peaceful life had never prepared him for. But he couldn’t do it. He felt an overwhelming surge of tenderness for Laura whenever he looked at her.

He put an over-large pointer finger under her chin, making her look up at him.

“Not to me. You promised to help me, after all, and we’ve just met. That isn’t what a bad person would do. And it swings both ways. If you want to help me, I want to help you, Laura.”

He leaned down, kissing her carefully. She threw her arms around his neck, stretching up to meet him.

“I will help you get small. Later. Right now I want to want have sex with you,” she breathed, her body writhing atop him, her warm crevice greasing back along his tent-pole even more urgently. God damn, she was so wet!

“Unnnnnh! Y-yeah, uhm, we might have a scale problem with that!” Chris half-laughed, half-groaned.

His cock was curving up behind her, twitching madly. Proportionate to his doubled body, it was like a strong arm clutched between Laura’s ass-cheeks.

“I am very flexible. We can do it. And I have found tools,” Laura said in her normal, unemotional tone….but there was a furry edge of warmth to it as she pulled his dick to her.

The bottle in her hand proved to be lubricant. She squirted a generous quantity into her palm, then smeared it on her other hand. Like a potter with a prized piece of clay, she rubbed down his penis, starting at the monstrous, flared head. Calmly and gently, she glazed every fold, every vein, every crevice of his cock, until it was glinting with slippery lube. Periodically, she’d stop to squirt out another dollop, giving him a faint smile before she applied it. Chris’s member jerked up and down like a bronco as those slimy fingers reached out, then finally stroked down his shaft. The chemicals gave a faint warmth with friction, and between that and the feel of Laura’s strong, long-fingered hands coursing up and down his shaft, Chris was left shivering and panting in need. She slid a single finger under the curve of his frenum, and his whole pole twitched spastically.

“Unnnnnnh….” Chris grunted. He felt like he’d cum with the slightest extra stimulation. The mental image of splattering Laura with a cumload in proportion to his balls….He groaned again, shutting it out. Not because it was unpleasant, but because he wanted it to last!

“Not yet. Not yet! Now with this…..” she promised, breathing hard.

Laura stood. Facing him, she planted his cockhead between her thighs. Slowly gyrating her hips, she smeared her own wetness over his cock head, pressing down harder every rotation. Tight hips gripped and held his shaft steady for her. It was like getting another handjob, except every second he could feel her pussy sigh open, spilling heat and moisture onto his manhood. She was sooooo ready for him, and he was ready for her.

“Jesus, Laura…” Chris groaned, stretching backward. The bed frame broke with a crunch, hardly noticed.

She was panting hard, pressing down with all her strength, wet squelches at every contact. But both of them were so slippery now, she kept sliding off him.

“I can’t get it in! Start helping me, Chris!” she begged, tiny hands pulling his fingers. “Push….”

He cracked a glance up at her, a dark mass of wet hair framing her pale face and starry green eyes. He glanced at the impossible length of his shaft, bigger than a damn stallion.

“I’ll hurt you…I…I’m too big,” he breathed, both frightened and turned on by the idea of forcing himself inside her.

“No. It’s okay. Push hard.”

He took a firm grip on her waist, just as if he were using tweezers in the lab for a delicate procedure, and slowly tugged her downward.

Laura threw her head back, face concealed by her silky black hair, all except a wide-open, quivering mouth. Chris kept pulling her down. At first nothing happened, then there was a giving/parting sensation, and Laura slipped onto his cock with a long hoarse, feminine cry: “Oh. OHHHH GOD!!! UnHHH!! EEEEK! Yes, Chris!!!! Further. Deeper!! HARDER!!!”

Inch by inch, he worked her onto his cock. Laura whimpered and cried out hoarsely, but every time he slowed, she started humping him, twisting to get more into her hole, not less. Her eyes were wild, the same as when he had her down with the leash, so…vibrant…as the mask she wore came off. It was like seeing her naked all over again, the girl under the doll.

Finally, she was sitting back down on his body, thighs to his thighs. Her legs were trembling in convulsions, but she had a blissful smile on her face as her hands roamed her slightly-distended belly.

“That’s nice. That’s sooooooo nice….”

She had taken every last inch of him, like there had been a spot for him there all along, just for him.

Chris could see the faint ridge of his cock distending her flat stomach. More, he could feel every pull and surge of her pussy as she pressed inward. A full-cock massage. The lube and her juices made his cock turn even then. It was excruciating, but in a good way. The enlargement seemed to be making his skin more sensitive. He was having trouble seeing straight.

Jesus fucking christ….I can feel every part of you” he swore in a low, wondering voice.

Laura nodded drunkenly in reply, twisting side to side, “Better bigger. Sooooo. Much. Better. Let me do it now.”

Mewling softly, she managed a slow, rocking rhythm, vaginal walls pulsing and contracting over his cock. The heat of her body flowed into him. Her love-making had a needy urgency to it, like he’d get away from her if she let him. She leaned back, still moving like an ocean swell. Delicate fingers stroked over his balls. He could feel his nuts swelling and rolling under her ministration. His hands seized into the soft flesh of her hips, moving her with the down stroke. Laura keened, head tossing backward. Chris was even more excited, huge hands clutching her, huge cock thrusting up as she rammed herself down. Tight didn’t begin to describe it: he felt like he was pushing his cock into a vagina-shaped keyhole, one that shaped itself in exact proportion to the outline of his big key.

Chris was shaking, every time he hilted her.

“Mnh. Yeah, fuck yeah, Laura….”

“Harder. Faster!!!” she cried, slapping his tightly-gripping fingers to urge him on.

He took a full-hand grip around her waist and pumped her faster, yanking her up and down his shaft. The motion turned his little doll into a human-sized pocket pussy.

Ugggh!! Yes! Like that!” she groaned, eyes rolling in ecstasy, “Fuck me, Chris, fuck me!!!”

“You, too!! More!!! Get on it, get fucking on it, girl!!” he urged, twisting her side to side as he shoved her up and down, which elicited a tiger-scream from Laura. Her pussy snapped shut, tightening enormously, like sticking his dick in a surgical clamp. The shock made him let go. She picked up the pace without missing a beat. Laura had her toes on his abs, hands braced on his forearms, hips slamming up and down with a reckless urgency. Something stretched, then grabbed his cockhead. More tightness, unbelievable wetness sliding around his dickhead.  He was past her cervix, deep inside her most important place. She left him dribbling wet and slick with every bounce in reply, hair flying.

The erotic feeling was too much. He was going to cum! Right in her damn baby-maker!!!

Wait, shit! No condom again!!!!

“Laura!!!!” he grunted, trying to get the warning out, to get out! God, he’d just met her! Cumming the liters in his expanded balls would get her pregnant for sure!

She understood. Or maybe it was just feeling his cock swell warningly inside her womb. But she sure didn’t care…or get off his swelling cock.

“Nnnnhhhhhh!!! Not yet!!! Not yet!!” she said hoarsely, slowing, pumping now in inch-wide increments. Her heels clapped to his waist, riding him like a bronco. Her breath was getting short, too.

“Please! I’ll help you!”

With a viperfish speed, she came off his cock with a sucking pop! Before Chris could draw breath, she slammed down once more….right on her other hole. Both of them shrieked, Chris in surprise, Laura in a pantherish agony/delight as she got nailed in the ass in one stroke. Thanks to all the lube, his precum, and her slippery vaginal fluids, he slipped in like a salmon going upstream.

Forget her pussy, her asshole was insanely tight, and hotter than hell. He grabbed her silky cheeks, squashing them on his cock, riding her forbidden hole, helping her along as she squeezed him in reply.

Her ass. She’s giving me her asshole. he thought dreamily.

Chris knew he had a real fixation on a plump, hard ass on a girl, but no girl had ever consented – let alone offered – to take even his normal-length cock. They kissed sloppily, lips sliding as Laura refused to stop her pumping rhythm. He didn’t doubt this time that she couldn’t do it. His dick was strumming like a guitar.

It was the best sex of his life. But he wanted one more thing out of his lover.

“Unnnnnnh…shit, yeah…..Sh-show…Show me your ass, baby!”

She looked up quickly through wild strands of black hair. A little of her previous demureness peeked out, surrounded by the smiling wild child he had let loose.


She slowed her frantic ass-bucking, throwing a leg over and around, so she was ass-on to him. Chris swore as her slippery anal tunnel twirled around his dick, until he had an eyeful of that tight baller ass. She pulled her crack open, showcasing a perfect little pucker stretched ridiculously wide around his girth. The way plump paired asscheeks framed his plunging rod made her irresistible.

That shaking butt wobbled up and down his cock, practically in his face. Of course he grabbed it.

Huge fingers sunk into supple flesh, mauling it. Laura looked over her shoulder, moaning as his large hands dictated the pace, sliding down, all the way down, until her cheeks flattened against his thighs.  Now he knew how a nail felt, going into wood. Stuck and stuck good, with the whole interior surface gripping him tight! He’d thought her virgin pussy was a gripper!

The intermission while he got into her butt had given him some kind of second wind, and he used it, controlling her movements with the grip on her hips, pacing his strokes until Laura was the one grunting and moaning, every time he splayed open her anal ring. She was trembling like a leaf after a couple of minutes of asswork, flopping senselessly back against his body.

She’s sensitive there. REALLY likes anal! he thought mischievously. Have to remember that for later.

He looked down at her and grinned, and she grinned back up, nuzzling his neck.

Works for me. I like doing her there, too!

Chris’s hands, which had (reluctantly) given up their grip on her ass, were roaming her body now, cupping a pert breast, slowly massaging a nipple. He drifted back down and found her slit, leaking wetly over her thighs. Leaking a lot.

“Somebody likes it in the ass,” he murmured in her ear.

She was staring hypnotically at his fingers, as they teased open her pussy, “Yes…..It….it hurts good. Is that bad. Am I bad?”

“Not in my book,” he breathed, kissing her.

Very gently, he began rubbing her there, in counterpoint to their hip rotation. Just the palm at first, stroking her whole labia with one broad palm. She groaned and thrust her pelvis to him, seeking more pets.


“Good doggy-girl, good doggy….”

It’s kinda fun, being a giant-sized…giant. Hehehheheh!!! Oh shit, I’m so out of it…..

He had to stop himself from laughing aloud. The mood was building back up to something serious and hot; he didn’t want to ruin it. He switched to using just a single middle finger to diddle her clit.

Gentle, gentle. She’s a small girl….small girls break easy….

Laura mewled, “Harder, Chris…..Put it in me…..Oh god, do it harder!!!!

….Then again, she’s not a typical girl!

He dipped his middle finger inward, digging deep. He could feel his cock, moving just on the other side of her walls. Her pussy made nasty, soppy noises as he dipped in and out. Laura stopped moving, was making low-screams, impaled at both sides.

“You’re so wet, honey. So tight,” he panted, “Jesus. Keep going, move your fucking ass, Laura!!!”

“Ohhh. Ohhhhhh, yeah,” she whispered, voice tight. Trapped in his arms, she twisted her groin mightily to get the maximum pleasure from their connection. He curled his trapped finger inside her cunt. She gave a low scream.

“Oh. Oh yes. Like that,” she begged, “More. Both, Chris, at the same time! Harder. My ass! Do me in my ass HARDER!!!!”

He fingered her with a curving stroke, while his balls bounced against her ass. Both of them were gripping the other in their arms. The erotic tension twisted tighter and tighter, the same way his cock got tighter and harder inside her lubricated asshole.


Suddenly she went from pretty tight to painful around him. Her sphincter turned into a tourniquet, binding the base of his shaft at the edge of ecstasy. Chris roared, caution forgotten, maddened with lust. He grabbed her throat, holding her still as he stabbed up into her again and again and again, short, frantic – ­BRUTAL – strokes, desperate to finish now, kissing her hard while she came and screamed in his mouth. The couple crushed themselves against each other’s bodies, sweat and slippery juices making them slide in each other’s arms.

“It’s so good with you…It’s nice,” she muttered.

Chris cracked his eyes open. Laura lay upside down, facing him from where she sprawled on his chest. Black hair drifted through his own curly chest hair, her face flushed, mouth wide in shocked passion. She was dark, and beautiful. Dangerous and wounded. More than the strangeness, more than simple sexual excitement, he felt a deep pressure inside him, pushing him. It wasn’t his body…or if it was, it was his heart.

Laura stretched backward to meet his lips. They kissed hard, Chris holding her head still.

Then he came like a dam breaking.


The orgasm lasted a long time, and no time. Laura, her tiny body writhing in his grip, the feel of her  asshole and anal ring flexing around his cock, the nasty, sexy sound of cum jetting out of her, into his lap, lacking any space left inside her……

But I didn’t make her pregnant. Gotta remember the important th-th-th…..Shit, I forgot what the important thing was.

The titanic arch they went into finally collapsed, and Chris was left panting for breath, Laura curled on his chest.

He blinked, things turning fuzzy, darkness closing in.

Did she just fuck me unconscious again?

“I think….I love you, Laura,” he muttered stupidly.

Somewhere far away, he heard her whisper, “I….I don’t know what that means, Christian. But I want to learn.”


Chris woke up blearily, rubbing his face. The room was still dark, but his eyes adjusted after a second to see Laura sitting tailor-fashion next to him on the bed, contemplating him with hands on her chin.

“Hey, sexy!” he greeted her, rubbing her leg. Her pale body glowed slightly in the semi-dark room. Her skin was still damp, and he got a whiff of strong soap. “Take another shower?” he asked, sitting up and yawning.

“Yes. I was…stinky,” she replied inscrutably. She rubbed her tummy. “And full.”

He pulled her into his lap, giving her a kiss, giving a goofy male laugh, “Ooops! Sorry! How about we order some room service, a new door, and I can apologize to you properly?” he asked with a leer, libidio already growing again. He blinked. Growing. His lips hadn’t kissed her whole lower jaw like he had before. He felt along his face.  His lips were the same size, more or less, as hers. He thrust a hand in front of his face, wiggling normal-sized fingers.

“Hey! I shrank! Hell Yeah!!!

He blinked at his hand, examining the fingers.

Ouch! It’s a good thing I don’t wear rings, or a metal-banded watch. THAT would have been painful!

Her own hand lifted a large (but normal-sized) cock, slumped between his ordinary-sized legs.

“Yes.” she agreed, eyes twinkling. “I made you small. I’m a hero. A giant-slayer.”

Chris fell back laughing on the busted bed.

She stroked his erection like a friendly animal, then carefully set it back between his legs with a moue of regret. Despite her doll-like features and frisky words, he got the feeling she was sad. She sniffed, then sniffed again. The lack of tears and her unchanging expression somehow made the reaction more painful to watch.

“Hey, don’t cry! What’s wrong? Are you sick? I don’t….I mean, if it’s a sex thing, if you give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can get it up again…..”

“No, not that.”

She didn’t reply further, slim fingers toying with his jaw and neck. Her expression was still enigmatic, but he noticed she always replied to what he said, even if was just a single word. (or a howled happy shriek) Something was definitely bothering her.

Chris cast around. He was soaked with sweat and their shared pheromones (and other things!).

Whefff! Yeah, the way she’s sniffing like that. I think her nose might be more sensitive.

“I’ll take a shower. I’m sure I stink, too,” he offered, at a loss on how else to comfort her.

“You don’t stink,” she replied finally, green eyes shining in the darkened room, “I stink. Do you like me?” she asked unexpectedly.

Chris shrugged, “I wouldn’t be here in bed with you if I didn’t. The sex was….well, adjectives fail me. The best.”

Laura shook her head, frustrated, “No, not sex. You should go away. I will hurt you. That’s why I exist, to hurt and kill.”

The claws went snikt/snakt, in and out, to emphasize her point. He’d sort of forgotten about those; it was easy to, she was so un-threatening in appearance. Good thing they hadn’t come out during sex. She waved them in front of his eyes, the air cleaving with a soft wfffftt!!!

“I killed those men outside. I was here tonight to kill you.”

Chris licked his lips, previous concerns streaking back suddenly. That metal guy….he’d been really scared of Laura, hit her like she was a real threat, not a girl. Then there had been all the blood on the floor, like a bad horror movie. It occurred to Chris he was metaphorically juggling ginsu knives, having Laura next to him.

But a knife didn’t have a conscience. A knife didn’t help other people, or worry about what it cut. She was a person, and she seemed upset at what she’d done.Just gotta grab the knife by the handle, that’s the trick.

“Why did you kill them?” he asked quietly.

She seemed to really think on it, “They were not my mission. I could have played dead, let them have you. But they were not-nice. And they wanted to take you, hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But you were here to kill me,” he asked reasonably, “Why not just let them? It would have made it simple for you, right?”

She stopped, looking unsure, “Yes. I….couldn’t. You smelled nice. They made me…angry. I usually don’t get angry at people. I just react, kill. You’re mine,” she rubbed her knuckles, where the knives…the claws came out, “But I was told to kill you. I had your scent, and I had my orders. But you’re nice. I don’t understand this. It’s not simple anymore, clear. I was…raised….not like other people. I don’t feel right. I don’t feel like others do.  I don’t understand. It hurts here.”

She touched her chest,Not like bullets going in. Deeper.”

He leaned forward and picked her up, setting her in his lap and cupping her head to his. It felt…right.

“Laura…maybe you’re more like other people than you give yourself credit for. That’s why it hurts: you care. Same for me – I care for you! I want to find out what it means, too, why it hurts you inside. I want to ease that hurt, Laura” he whispered, kissing her pale throat. Her arms wrapped around his head, tightening with need, with solace. His were sliding down her body, “Trust me. I’m a doctor.”

She went supple in his arms, lips going to his, “Ah. I like doctors. They’re nice.”

She nibbled at his lower lip. “Again?”

“Sure. But no biting this time!” he said quickly.


They did more – lots more – and finally, when Chris was wrung out like a wet towel and Laura was (mostly) satiated, they started to talk.



“Give me a bloody drink!” Emma demanded in irritation.

Pierre, one of the Club’s long-term publicans, poured her preference, cognac, neat, with flawless skill, and withdrew at once like a good menial. She looked warily over the rim of her glass as she sipped. She had discarded her ruined White Queen outfit for casual white slacks and a coat/vest look, what she thought of as her “Professor Frost” outfit, complete with a small pair of decorative glasses. It was part of her “respectable” wardrobe she had started using since taking Xavier’s offer. She actually preferred her old White Queen outfit more. It made her feel naughty, but it was hell getting blood out of white leather.

“Can I order something for you, Peter?” she asked in a frigidly polite tone.

“Some water, spasebo,” he responded, equally politely. A perspiring tumbler magically appeared before the X-Man.

They sat at the bar. In the same stools, in fact, that Emma had lured Chris to at the start of the night. Emma glared at Colossus while they waited, but it cost nothing to be polite, even if you really wanted to play the “Stop Hitting Yourself” game with a certain brawny Russian. Peter watched her just as warily.

But Pryde was right. His psychic defenses are astronomically stronger than when he was a teenager, and so are hers. I am not quite fast enough to take them both solo at close range, and Scott would ask awkward questions if this isn’t handled delicately. Ditto the doctor.

What to do? Aangher was a deadly threat, but he was also a mutant brother, and that was a line she would not cross. Now all that was left was hoping her little clawed ax-murderer would do something clever.

Ha. That’s a laugh. How on earth did I ever end up on the other end of the leash from X23?!

It was a mexican standoff that had gone on for three hours now. Neither party would interfere with whatever was going on upstairs, but neither was really sure what Laura would do.

Emma toyed a slip of moisture off her glass. If Laura does him in, it’s not on MY hands. Scott couldn’t blame me; it would all be tied up neatly…No, stop that. That’s old thinking. I’m an X-Man now. I’m supposed to save mutants. But Aangher is a threat and a victim. Why can’t the world be simple? Nevermind. My hands are tied now. Oh. That’s witty, Emma, sitting in the middle of the Hellfire Club!

Kitty had gone to brief Betsy and Doug, and check for any remaining Purifiers that might have infiltrated the Club. The uptight bitch also had a whispered word with her boyfriend before leaving, while glaring mightily at Emma. Emma caught only a fragment. It sounded something along the lines of “Peter, if she moves or thinks too hard at somebody….squish her.”

For a girl who advocated peace, Kitty could be remarkably practical. Laura was even more practical. Or she was supposed to be.

What in the name of all that’s holy is taking X23 so long?! How much time do you need to cross off a naked geek?! What did she mean, making weird goo-goo faces at Aangher and saying he’s nice, while the man plots our doom! This is the last time I use that rabid, laconic, nymphomaniacal sphinx for a “black” operation! Emma thought moodily, looking at Peter. He misinterpreted her pissed expression.

“Kitty will let Laura make her own choices, Emma, and they will be the right ones. Have no fear,” he said placatingly. “Besides, as you said, I do not think Doctor Aangher is in the kind of jeopardy you desired.”

“Oh, spare me your concern! If I was worried about Katherine Pryde’s ethical standards, I wouldn’t be on the X-Men, Piotr Nikolaievitch,” she said in an acerbic voice, “I am content to have your bed-warmer far away from me at the moment, and that is enough. What I find amazing is that you two, who I would vote “Most Likely To Have Babies Together” in our genetic fraternity, are opposing me on this issue. Frankly, I had you here because I thought you would be least likely to ask awkward questions about Aangher’s permanent disappearance…..”

She looked at Peter out of the corner of her eye, “….or even help finish him off!” she suggested silkily. “All it would take is one punch, Peter, darling. I’ll sit here quietly while you go do it, mum’s the word! We could call you ‘giant killer’!”

Peter looked at her coldly, as cold as the proverbial Russian winter, “I am not a killer, Emma.”

“Bullshit,” she declared crisply, “I’ve read the mission reports, Peter. I’ve seen you at work. You’re the proverbial Russian tank, a bloody armored engine of destruction. You’ve killed more enemies over the years than anyone except Logan. There is a fair head of steam inside that placid artist’s façade you affect, my metal friend.”

He deflated a bit, looking haunted, “There has been too much death,” he said softly, “Far too much. I will not abide it. It is also why I am sitting here and guarding you, instead of helping put body parts in rubber bags with your Hellfire Club minions. I have no wish to see more death if I do not have to.”

His face hardened, handsome Slavic farm-boy good looks turning older and more dangerous for a second, “It is terrible that a sweet girl such as Laura has been made so good at dealing death. The people who made her into this…weapon…she is now are monstrous.”

The glass tumbler cracked in his still-human fist, “And you are a monster for encouraging her to continue as such, Emma Frost!”

Emma toyed with her own glass, gazing down at her image reflected in the cognac, then tossed back the shot, savoring the warm fire coursing down her belly. “I was always a monster, Peter. I never pretended otherwise. But monsters have their uses. The Professor saw that long ago. Charles Xavier’s methods don’t always work in the real world. Why do you think I was asked to join the X-Men in the first place? Or Wolverine? Or Laura? We must all play our parts.”

“Now it is I who claim ‘Bullshit’, Emma!” Peter said fiercely, “You would not be in the X-Men if some piece of you did not believe in a better world! And the Professor would certainly not condone this nefarious behavior! You betray our dream by organizing assassinations, and instigate killings not even by your own hand. I find your hypocrisy sickening. You make me sick, Emma Frost! At least Logan gives fair warning to those he slays, and he does it himself, like a man!”

“YOU THINK I ENJOY BEING THE ONLY ADULT IN THE MANSION, PETER?!” she blazed back angrily, “And do I look like a bleeding man to you?!” she snapped, thumping the side of one her plump tits.

Several people looked in their direction until she sent hurried mental suggestions that told them the scale-skinned brunette mutant, Stacy-something, at the center of a floor show was about to do something extraordinary with two double-ended dildos at once. It drew their attention away from Emma nicely. The crowd drifted away from the bar to follow the show (that slut really was worth watching, flexible as a snake), and Emma refocused on Colossus, who was still glaring at her. Pierre refilled her glass silently and withdrew.

They stared at each other, teammates by choice, but not by preference. Emma moodily sipped at her cognac, ice blue eyes level over the rim.

“Peter, do you remember how we met for the first time? Back when you were the same armored help you’ve always been, and I was White Queen of the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle, instead of White Queen of the X-Men and all that is good and pure?” she asked sardonically.

“You had your mercenaries ambush us with heavy weapons, knocked us out, stripped us naked, put us in cages, and tortured us telepathically,” he said flatly.

“Yes, not one of my more sterling moments,” Emma agreed, “Tell me, did you ever wonder why I simply didn’t kill you all? I mean, I am one of the most powerful telepaths in the world. You had been utterly beaten. I had you at my mercy. Surely it would have been child’s play for me to turn you X-Men out like a light, including a very young and irksome Kitty Prude?”

Peter looked at her warily, “Jean or the Professor would have…”

“Protected you? Not at the time, not quick enough to stop me from shutting down every neuron in your thick head. I’m being serious. I’m the Wicked Witch of Westchester. Why stop at mur-ur-der?”

She drew the word out into three syllables, British-fashion.

Colossus pursed his lips, unwillingly turning the idea over in his head.

“It would have ended your fun. You are a sadist,” he said finally. “You enjoy giving others pain too much to make it quick.”

She waved it away, “A personality flaw to be sure, but I’m talking mechanics here. Mental defenses only go so far; they make you resistant to people like me, not invulnerable. For that matter, why don’t other people – normal people – who cross telepaths drop dead from unexplained aneurysms in job lots?”

“You are asking me why I think you involved Laura in this despicable business tonight,” he intuited, “Why you didn’t just take care of Aangher yourself.”

Emma nodded, “Exactly right. And the answer is quite simple: I can’t kill, Peter.”

He looked at her in surprise, “You mean you don’t have-,”

“What Laura has in her? What Wolverine most certainly does? What you do, my brutish, Slavic friend? No, not precisely. I’m quite evil in my own charming way. I mean I can’t kill with my mind for very strong psionic and psychological reasons, no matter what my personal desires. Believe me, there are quite a number of times over the years I wish I could’ve just struck someone dead, no muss, no fuss. But the cost….”

She took a shuddering breath, cool exterior suddenly a little lost and vulnerable, “You have to be inside a person’s mind when you kill them with telepathy, Peter. It is a shattering experience. The slower and the more painful the death, the worse it is for the voyeur. And the death, it drags you down with the unfortunate soul. All the shock and horror and fear running towards this…this….I don’t really have words. It’s slow, too. There is no time-sense on the mental plane. Suffice to say I don’t even like being in the same room when someone kicks it. It sticks to you. Like tar. Murdering someone with my telepathy might well render me unconscious in shock. Doing it repeatedly would most assuredly drive me permanently psychotic.”

Her lips skinned back from her teeth, “Believe me, I’ve met examples of what happens when you do use your mind with lethal intent on a regular basis. They are among the most vile and insane creatures you could possibly imagine. Getting a ‘listen’ on that Purifier goon before he toppled off into the abyss was almost enough to make me lose my lunch, and he was already dying, nearly dead. Not nearly so fresh as if I’d been in his head when Laura was chopping him up.”

She sniffed, as if she’d lost a hand of cards, the cool and arrogant White Queen once more, “God does not play dice. We psi’s have enormous power, but also built-in limitations. Hardly seems fair.”

“So that is why you use others for your dirty work?! Because you know – intimately– what a crime needless death is?! And you still arrange killings??!!” Peter said incredulously, “Emma, I think you are even more of a monster now!”

“Yes, well…join the club,” she replied dryly, lifting her glass in a sarcastic salute, “But keep in mind that it wasn’t me who slashed those men apart, Peter. It was our dear little L-”

“I’m done,” Laura whispered from Emma’s shoulder.

Thousand dollar-a-bottle cognac jumped out Emma’s glass and splattered across the bar top. Pierre was already there with a towel.

Would you please not DO that!” Emma hissed as Laura walked around her.

Laura seated herself primly on a bar stool alongside Peter, tiny compared to his bulk. He looked down at her in concern.

“Laura, is Doctor Aangher…..?”

“He’s alive,” she began softly, rubbing her forearms where her claws were ensconced. “He’s small again.” Her lips curved into a tiny, satisfied smile, “Smallish. I helped him. I can help. I can do things like that. Told him I was a mutant, an X-Man. Told him I was supposed to kill him. For Miss Frost, if he tried to help people make less mutant babies.”

She got a thoughtful look on her face, “. I…think…that’s not nice. I don’t know. I don’t have babies. I never tried to ask people to be nice before instead of killing them. There’s a lot more words. We talked lots.”

Emma sighed miserably, “So our foolish giant’s still alive then? And still on track with his research? Congratulations, you’ve doomed us all with altruism, Mary Sue Machete.”

Laura shook her head, “No, he said he wouldn’t. Promised to start research on something else instead. You still have to give him lots of money, though, Miss Frost,” Laura added, speaking in her deadpan voice. “To keep it quiet, I mean.”

Pierre set a bottle of expensive custom rootbeer down for Laura. Extending one claw, Laura slashed the top off with finicky precision, glass and cork all, and drank. The claw went back in with a snakt. Pierre didn’t even blink, except to slide her a coaster.

Colossus was shaking in mirth by now. Emma looked pole-axed. Metaphorically speaking.

“We had lots more sex afterwards. That’s what took me so long. He has good stamina. And a big cock. He tastes good, too,” Laura Kinney continued innocently, smacking her lips in happiness from more than the rootbeer. She got up and started to walk away.

“Where do you go now, Laura?” Peter asked.

“I’m going to hunt steaks for me and Doctor Aangher. Chris, I mean. He said he needed protein, too. Then I’m going to fuck him some more,” she replied calmly. “I’ll see you back at the Mansion later.”

She paused, “He asked me for my phone number. Miss Frost, can you get me a phone? I need to have a phone so I can give him my phone number. Oh, and he said he wanted to be an X-Man. I want to call him ‘Big’. He laughed and said he wasn’t Tom Hanks. I don’t get it. He said he’ll use ‘Wingbat’ as his code name instead.”

Sniffing the air, Laura was headed to the kitchens before Emma could get her magnificent brain to work properly: Any codename imaginable and he chose…..?!

“Laura!” Peter called out.

She paused, looking at him questioningly. Colossus raised his cracked tumbler of water in salute.

“Welcome our new friend Wingbat to the X-Men properly! Let us hope he survives the experience, Da?” he said merrily.