Have you ever noticed that Logan keeps getting drawn into fanfics full of tough broads with adamantium blades? Those folks up at Department H must have been very busy arming poor Logan and several hundred Weapon-X chicks. In response to these strains of universal commonality, I respond with what I would like to call "Generic Fiction", staring my heroine Generica Foxsilver.
Each generic story stands on its own, occupying a niche in the legend defined by some fanficcer or another. From each of these oversubscribed themes, I attempt to draw out the absolute essence of the story and reproduce it in a more streamlined fashion.
Of late, I've been reading a new and titillating strain of fiction. I found these stories both here on fanfiction.net and various sites elsewhere. In these fics, Logan's latest squeeze enters a new and special time of her adult life. I'm somewhat hesitant to approach this storyline, both from the challenge of making it tasteful and from a certain prudishness that permeates both my life and writing. I find this outing a little sillier and less stylish than my previous efforts, but do let me know if it works for you or not.
However, a certain short and hairy Canadian figment won't let me get away with evasion that easily. He appears on my shoulder occasionally, tugging at my ear, insisting that I owe him a really good time. After this sort of encouragement, I find myself blushing furiously red and refusing to look at some of the words I've typed.
Gotta feed that muse. Anyone have some raw meat?
Now
Generica wakes up cranky. Sunlight streams into her eyes, irritating her no end. Her mouth feels as if she's been chewing on napkins during the night and her head seems to be exploding.
This is not a good morning.
Only the persistant drumming of duty forces her out of bed and into her clothes. She looks longingly at the bedsheets before retreating to the hallway. The bedsheets remain tossed and tumbled in a room that appears like the aftermath of a cyclone. It was a bad night.
Even the chow line cannot cheer her up. She loads up on breakfast meats because the food service hasn't stocked up on raw beef. She gathers unsatisfactory strips of spam, scrapple and bacon on her plate and stomps off to a table.
Furtively, the academy students return and begin fetching their own breakfasts again. Generica's growls and prominent displays of overgrown canines have convinced them to give her cuts on the line and then, after seeing her claw-based bacon spearing technique, to abandon the line to her entirely.
Unsurprisingly, she sits at a table by herself.
The nearby tables, too, are recently vacant.
Generica is not a mutant these students want to mess with today.
Then
The smell was the first thing, but it wasn't the thing that clued her in. (That distinction belonged, incidentally, to the half dozen skinned and gutted squirrels). It started a few weeks after she arrived, musky and strong and compelling. For some reason, she rather liked it and refused to call the custodial staff. Generica could be rather stubborn when she set her mind to it, and visitors to her room were rather rare--even more rare once the smell arrived and her guests would quickly depart.
The squirrels arrived a few days later. They lay on a rumpled blue plastic Walmart sack that had seen better days. And they smelled...wonderful.
Locking her door and shutting the blinds to ensure privacy, she dug into the unexpected treat, gorging herself. Only when nibbling on the last carcass did common sense return. She slowed down and savored the last few bites of her snack. The squirrels had been utterly and unusually delicious. She carefully placed the gnawed bones and gristle in the plastic sack as she wondered.
As she picked small bits of squirrel from between her teeth, she set her mind on the matter of the gift. Logan. It had to have been Logan. No one else would have, could have thought of it. Satisfied, she emitted a loud, boisterous and unladylike burp.
Now
"There's something wrong with me," she says.
"Tell me about it."
"My head hurts and I feel funny."
Hank shrugs. "Sounds like you're coming down with the flu."
"I don't get sick."
He agrees to draw some blood and run a few tests.
Then
She caught him several weeks and a few gifts later. It was midday, during classes, hardly a normal time for anyone to be hanging around the dorms. She had only returned to pick up a home economics textbook that she'd forgotten. She busily cursed Charles under her breath. "To hell with the Regents and stupid state requirements," she said as she slammed open her door and bumped into Logan.
Logan had been caught in the middle of...something.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.
He shrugged, noncommitally and continued marking the wall for a few seconds more. Then he sighed in relief, tucked and zipped. "Establishing my territory, darlin'," he said.
Generica was about to lay into him and rip him to pieces when she caught sight of the hares on the bed. Torn between delivering a lecture and chowing down on jackrabbit, she succumbed to temptation and began to rip into the game. It tasted...gamey. Between bites, she quizzed him. "Are you trying to court me? Is that what this is all about?"
A pause. "Yeah."
"And what...", munch, munch, rip, "...makes you think it's going...", chew, chew, chew, "...to work, huh?"
"Just a notion. See ya later, right?" He slipped out of the room between bites, leaving her, the hares and the textbook communing on the bed.
Now
"The bloodwork shows a definite spike in certain hormones not typically found in humans. I did a little research and discovered that these sharp rises generally preceed the onset of estrus in preovulatory mammals."
"In English, Blue Boy. What's going on?"
"Madam," Hank says, "I believe you are about to go into heat."
Then
"Are they being punished?" she asked.
"Right now? No." Charles pushed back from his desk and wheeled around to join her on the other side.
"Well they should be. How dare they break into my room, prank or no."
"I suspect once the sedatives wears off and they're ready to rejoin us, we'll have thought up an appropriate remedy. All right?"
She nodded.
"Then," he continued, "let us move on to the matter of this... carcass. Although it is clearly not the remains of a slaughtered baby..."
"It's a racoon, Chuck. Just a racoon."
"Nevertheless, what exactly was it doing in your room for these miscreants to discover?"
"It was a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes."
"And this doesn't....disturb you?"
"Why should it?" said Generica
"It seems," Charles replied, "like a fairly unlikely and, frankly, unsettling thing to find in your room. Are you sure that some of the students aren't trying to harass you or threaten you in any way?"
"C'mon, Chuck. You of all people ought to know better. Don't judge mutants by human standards."
Now
She runs through the corridors, tracking him, intent on how exactly she will make him suffer for this. Many schemes are born and then tossed away as other, messier ones take their place.
The only thing clear in her mind right now is how this is entirely his fault.
Then
In the sharp chill of moonlight, they returned from the local bar. She felt the last warm glow of the alcohol fade from her self-healing system.
He helped her down off the bike. "Thanks," she said.
"For what?"
"For the lovely evening out. I needed the break from grading papers."
"My pleasure, darlin'. Let's enjoy the moonlight."
They sat in the darkness, far away from the dorms and practiced howling.
Now
She finds him in the garage, waiting by the motorcycle.
"Going somewhere?" she growls threateningly.
"Just waiting for you," he says. "I thought you'd show up soon."
"How did you know?"
"Sensed it."
"Smelt it, you mean."
He shrugs. "Whatever. You ready to go?"
"Where?" she asks.
"Charles has a cabin a few hours north of here. Owns the whole mountain in fact. I borrowed the keys."
"Does he know?"
"Yes. I also signed you out of teaching class and me off the team for the next few days."
"Oh."
The two head north on the highway. A growing sense of urgency forces them forward at rates that somehow escape detection by the New York State Police. And the cabin is, as promised, remote and isolated.
"I'm hungry," she says.
"Well, go out and kill something."
"What about the whole 'let's court her with food' bit?"
He laughs. "Seems to me that it's already done it's job, darlin'"
With a frown, she disrobes and furs out. Hungrier than she's ever been, she leaves the cabin and follows the scent of deer.
By the time he catches up to her, she's cutting large chunks of fresh liver with her claws and eating fast. Bits of blood run down her chin. To Logan, she's never looked lovelier.
He approaches to cut himself a snack but she growls and swipes. Logan jumps back, just in time. Perhaps now might not be the best time to insist on a meal.
Generica continues eating until she's absolutely gorged. Then she steps aside and allows Logan to have his share. He cannot concentrate. She smells...incredible. Soon, he abandons his snack to move closer to her.
As soon as he starts to move, she bolts.
The chase ensues. He's stronger with better endurance, but she's fast. Very fast. But she's working on a full stomach and that slows her down just enough.
Small creatures duck out of the way, clearly not willing to get involved in this expression of natural selection.
It takes a while, before he can double round on her. But when he does, he catches her and throws her to the ground.
"Took you long enough," she says, smiling.
Later
"Where's Logan?" Storm asks.
Generica pauses for a second, brow furrowed. A strong sense of dreaming fills her head. "Still sleeping." She pauses for a second. "Okay, I just woke him up. He'll be down in a few seconds."
Jean shook her head. "That's just weird. I mean, the two of you aren't telepaths. And I should be able to tune in, but I can't."
"Nature of the beast, I suppose," Generica agrees, pleasantly.
"And this mating thing, it's for life?" Jean continues.
"Don't worry, Darlin'," Generica smiles. "Given his girlfriend history I betcha get another shot at him before long." She laughs while the others clear their throats uncomfortably.
Fortunately, Logan arrives before too long and they get onto business as usual.