Title: "Tales from the X-Bathroom"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: R
Summary: One of the items in one of the X-Mansion's bathrooms tells the story of one day in its bizarre life.
Disclaimer: Jean Grey-Summers; Professor Xavier; Scott "Cyclops" Summers; Ororo "Storm" Munroe; Hank "Beast" McCoy; Jubilation "Jubilee" Lee; Warren Joseph; "Angel" Worthington III; Betsy "Psylocke" Braddock; Logan/Wolverine; the X-Mansion; and the X-Men are © & TM Marvel comics and are used without permission. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes absolutely no profit from this story.

The door opened quietly, and the tall redhead tiptoed in. She's always the first one up unless something is greatly bothering one of the others or she's sick, and I knew that no other mutant throughout the entire mansion was awake from the silent way she moved. She paused in the doorway as she brought the door to a hushed close behind her. Her green eyes focused entirely on me, and I know she was thinking about how cold I always am in the early mornings and dreading the moment I would touch her naked skin.

Her stomach made a sound that almost sounded like whining; she pressed a hand to it and hurried to me. From what I understand, the redhead is one of the few true ladies of the house, but let me tell you -- no woman can remain a lady when they're with me. The sounds that came out between her gritted teeth were anything but ladylike, and they even chilled me more than I already was. Her hands and mind gripped me so tightly that for one terrifying moment, I thought I might actually fall through the toilet. Then, finally, she finished and began to clean up.

My next visitor arrived shortly after breakfast. From what I understand, such a trip is routine for the old man at that time of day, but this isn't usually the bathroom that gets his. I guess breakfast must have just shot through him faster this morning; I am the closest one to the kitchen.

"Professor, do you need any help?" a concerned voice asked from the other side of the door just as the bald guy's hand reached out and gripped the iron rail embedded in the wall next to me.

"Thank you, Scott, but I can manage." Despite his words, he barely got the answer out as he fumbled with his pants and just managed to drop them before collapsing onto me.

"Yes, sir." The man called Scott's footsteps faded away even as the Professor began to fulfill his purpose there.

I think it was around noon when my next visitor paid her call. Despite being beautiful, the woman with the black skin and white hair has been one of those I tremble in fear of ever since the first time she used me. She seems pretty composed when she first starts, but as she continues to empty into me, it always gets worse. Bright lights start to fill the room, and then thunder booms. I can't explain it, but tiny lightning bolts are suddenly swirling all around me. I thought those things couldn't come into a house, but they always do when she's on me. They only stop when she stops. They must have something to do with her, but I really don't know what. I don't think two-leggers are supposed to be able to control the weather, but these mutants are the weirdest two-leggers I've ever heard of.

I think it was sometime around that afternoon when the big, blue guy came running in on all fours with a thick book tucked under his arm. He hopped onto me and settled down with a soft moan of content as it began. "Finally," he murmured quietly, "peace." He then opened his book and began to read. I wish he'd read aloud. It's so unfair when people are always reading something around you but you can't read and they won't read to you!

The furry guy was still on me when a rapid knock came at the door. "I'm in here," he called back in response. He had barely taken a breath when the knob wiggled again. "Some one's in here."

"Come on!" a young voice pleaded from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for hours, Blue, and I need it!"

"Jubilation, there are other . . . "

"I know, but I can't make it to them!" she wailed. "Besides, all you're doing is reading!"

A soft sigh escaped Blue's lips as he shook his head. "Guilty as charged. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be out."

True to his word, he left me as soon as he could, and she nearly knocked him down on her impatient way to me. "Thanks, Hank!" I thought his name was Blue? Oh well.

It was early in the night when he came. He almost always comes, but it's never for the same reason as the others. He took extreme care with the lock before turning to me. He shut my mouth and sat on top of me. He pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees, and began to cry quietly. I don't know what his problem is, but sooner or later, he always speaks one name in a hushed sob: "Rogue." I also happen to know that he hates that Cajun that's always sneaking in here with a cigarette. I was glad I didn't have to look at him that day.

There are some people that I just don't understand, and in the dead of the night, two of those people arrived. One has these huge, white wings, and the other's got purple hair. 'Course that's not saying much. The color might be weird, but at least she doesn't have a white streak running through it like another of the babes around here.

They came in wrapped around one another, him holding her with her legs seemingly glued around his waist, and kissing like there was no tomorrow. There was one guy that filled me once with such heat that I thought I would explode, but that heat might as well have been the coldest ice compared to the way those two were going at it. "You sure you wanna go through with this?" the blonde asked her.

"Absolutely," she murmured against his lips, nodding, as her hands went to his pants and forced them down. She kept herself on him as his hands left her body and removed her clothes in two swift snatches. 'Course she wasn't wearing much to begin with. Just a little skimpy purple bikini. At least, I think that's what those things are called.

They never paused in their kissing as he sat down on me. Believe it or not -- and here's one of the most disgusting stories I've ever had to tell -- he began depositing in me even as he entered her! Some two-leggers are just sick!

It was even later in the night -- almost time for the redhead, I think -- when the one that those in my line of work at this place fear the most entered my room. Just the sight of him filled me with so much fear that I was almost trembling, and when he growled at me, every part of me screamed one thing: RUN! But then I remembered. Toilets can't run . . . and thus I was doomed to the fate of the Wolverine. This is my last tale. They're having to have me removed tomorrow.

The End