All that I could think about was the supreme irony of it all. How many times when I was just a little girl had I seen stories on the television about heroes taking down villains in epic, superpowered battles and wished with all my might that I could have some special ability of my own? One could say it was my naïveté that caused me to want such a thing, but, in my defense, who could ever have predicted the strange set of circumstances that now defined my life? When I was just a child I might not have understood the responsibility that heroes have on their shoulders or the pressure that trials that they have to face, but I could not have known that having superhuman abilities could put me in this position.
The position in question was missionary, and the person on top of me was a fat, sweaty, neckbearded man more than twice my age whose breath smelled of beer. I had long since given up trying to close my eyes and pretend that he was some muscular European hunk (the weight of his beer gut on my body was a persistent reminder that his was not the case) and had decided instead to just mentally check out and wait until he was done. To be fair to the man, he was not technically doing anything to me against my will. My choices were to have sex with him or to not have sex at all today, and given what not having sex would mean I found the idea of letting this man mount me and get it over with to be preferable. That was the curse that my mutation had placed on me, and it was just something I'd have to deal with for the rest of my life. It had taken me more than a year, but I'd finally accepted this fact. Still, I fervently hoped that someday in the future I could have a more attractive man tend to my needs.
I wondered if this was my father's way of getting back at me for being a mutant. He had been prejudiced against mutants for a long time before I had ever started to display powers. I could still hear the echoes of his long drunken rants in my ears. "The damn muties", He would say, "they're going to be the death of us all one of these days, you mark my words. They just can't wait to get all the humans out of the way so that their race of freaks can rule the planet". I always met these tirades with a nod and an "mhmm". I had never thought that mutants were any more or less dangerous than any other form of superhuman, and my father always seemed happy that teams of superpeople like the Avengers or the Fantastic Four were around to save New York (and by extension himself) from whatever the threat of the day was. It was pointless to argue with him when he was like this, however, and so I just let the tide of mutant-hate wash over me. Now that I was one of those "damn muties", I supposed I was just lucky that he kept me sheltered and fed, especially given what my powers were and how they worked.
The man on top of me finished with a grunt, clothed himself, and left without saying a word. That was what all of them did, most likely at my father's instruction. I supposed I was glad for that. I didn't want these middle aged losers trying to talk to me, I didn't want to know their names (although for some I already did since they were all friends of my father, which made things incredibly awkward), I just wanted them to come in, inseminate me, and then get the hell out. That was what was required so my powers didn't go haywire, and I suppose it was one of the few real favors my father had ever done me that he was making sure that was all that happened. Perhaps somewhere in him there was some form of paternal instinct that the alcohol and mutant-hate hadn't stamped out yet, but then again if that were true it would be nice if he would at least ask some younger men to come have sex with me. As inappropriate as such a proposition might be, it paled in comparison to how inappropriate it was for a father to let his friends take turns fucking his daughter. I guess I shouldn't have expected any better, though.
I lay there in the bed for a second, then got up and looked at myself in the mirror on the closet door. My long brunette hair would definitely need some attention. For the thousandth time since I had developed my powers I scrutinized my body. I was only nineteen, but I had the appearance of a woman in her mid twenties. Just a year ago I had been kind of a beanpole, tall and scrawny without any curves or fat to speak of. I had been one of those people who had trouble gaining weight, a problem that a lot of women would kill for. I, on the other hand, had always wished I could be a little bustier and look less like a straightedge. I had definitely gotten my wish. My hips were now wide and my legs were set far apart. My breasts were probably triple D's, but I wouldn't know. I hadn't worn a bra in a long time. I had pretty much given up clothing altogether. I didn't need it since I was cooped up in my room all the time, and taking it off every time I wanted to use my powers was tedious. Besides, none of my old clothes fit me anymore.
I sighed, and walked over to my chest of drawers. I opened it up, and I my mood lightened considerably as I saw Tink looking up at me. She was maybe three inches tall, and her skin was a luminescent green. Other than that, however, she bore a strong resemblance to me. After all, she was my daughter.
"Hey Tink, mommy's finished up so you can come out now" I said, smiling at her.
Tink smiled back. It was times like this that I wished she could speak. I'm sure she would have known just what to say to make me feel better about my situation. She flew up and took her usual perch on my shoulder, and I walked back and sat down on the bed.
"So what do you want to do for the next twenty-four hours?" I asked her, "We could watch TV..."
Tink flew up in front of me with a "meh" look on her tiny face. I had a fairly good sense of what she was trying to say: "We do that every day. Let's try something else".
"I'm sorry." I told her, "We've been stuck in my bedroom for more than a year, and I'm officially out of ideas".
I looked at the door. I suppose "stuck" wasn't really the right word. I could leave if I wanted to. It was just that there was nothing for me outside except a lot of hatred, not to mention the possibility of devastating consequences if I couldn't have sex regularly enough. Then again, my new body was definitely pretty hot, so it couldn't be that hard, could it? I shook my head to drive the thought away. No, I couldn't take the chance. I couldn't let things get out of hand again.
Tink floated down and pointed at my vagina.
"You want me to make you some sisters?" I asked "I guess I might as well. Let me think, though, I want to come up with something new".
Tink flew up and started flexing.
"Hmm, I guess I've never tried super strength before. I'm not sure what use I'd have for it. I can lift pretty much everything I need to in here, but you never know, it might come in handy,".
I spread my legs and concentrated. I tried to focus on the idea of strength, on the ability to move things regardless of their weight. Almost instantly I felt something moving inside me. I gave it a push, and my new child came out into the world. She came out fully formed and without any blood or other bodily fluids, just the same as all of my daughters. That was one of the few convenient aspects of my power. I had never found any pattern to the colors of my children, but this one was hot pink. Other than that, she looked almost exactly the same as Tink did. As I looked at her, I felt a wave of maternal love rush over me, but I struggled to fight it down. If I allowed myself to have those feelings I would drive myself insane. Most of my daughters had a life span of only a few hours, and the sole reason that Tink was any different was because I had specifically created her to have powers of longevity. This other girl, however had been engineered for strength, and so her time in this world was going to be very short. As hard as I tried to emotionally distance myself, however, my eyes began to well up. Dammit, I had done this so many times, why couldn't I just become jaded already? My daughters floated up and tried to comfort me. After a few minutes, I forced myself to calm down a little and tried to get back to business. I turned to my newest child.
"Alright, let's see what you can do" I told her.
She floated down to one of the legs of the bed and tried to lift it. It rose only about a centimeter, and it was pretty clear she couldn't fly while holding it. That didn't surprise me. It always took me a long time to figure out a new power.
"Good job", I said, smiling at her, "that was very impressive".
She beamed with pride. My children always seemed so happy. They didn't care if they were successes or failures. They didn't care that their time was so limited. I envied them that. I was usually pretty miserable. It would be nice to be so carefree.
I gave birth about seven more times, trying to work on making my daughters stronger each time. I didn't make much headway, however, and eventually I decided that I'd put my emotions through the wringer enough for one day. I sat back and watched the little multicolored girls fly around playing tag with each other in the air. They were so innocent, so cheerful. I wished I could keep all of them around forever, that I could be the mother to them that I so desperately wanted to be. At least Tink would still be there in the morning. Maybe one day I would have some more long-lived daughters. I had tried to limit myself to one in order to form a stronger bond with Tink, but maybe having some permanent siblings would be good for her. I would give it some more thought.
When it finally got dark I turned out the light. I slipped under my covers. The little lights that were my daughters descended and lay down on and around my pillow. Tink took th spot of honor right next to me. I lovingly stroked her back for a while with my little finger, and then closed my eyes and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I looked around, hoping against hope that all my children from the previous day would still be there. They weren't, of course. They must have passed hours ago and vanished into nothingness. Tink was still right next to my head however. I scooped her up, and clutched her to my chest. Her eyes fluttered sleepily, but then she went back to sleep in my hand. I rocked her back and forth, feeling her little body in my palm. It was warm and soft, and knowing that she was there and wasn't going to go away made me feel better. Having children always hit me very hard emotionally. Sure, I needed to do it if I wanted to figure out my powers, but I often wondered if it was worth the strain on my feelings. I resolved right then that as soon as I was finished having sex today I would make some new long-lived sisters for Tink. Developing super-strength could wait.
There was a knock on my door, and I jumped in surprise. This caused me to squeeze Tink a little harder than I intended, and she woke up with a faint cry. I quickly set her down, apologizing profusely. She didn't seem to be injured however, and she stretched and smiled at me. Sometimes I almost wished that she would get angry when I did something wrong. I certainly felt like I deserved it, but I didn't even know if anger was on Tink's emotional spectrum.
I looked at the clock. It was nine in the morning. Usually nobody showed up to have sex with me until twelve. Was it my father? Unlikely. He hadn't visited me since I had disappeared into my room about fourteen months ago. The only interaction he ever had with me was to push food through a dog door that he had installed for that purpose. I walked over to the door and started to open it. Then I jumped back in surprise.
The man in my doorway was pretty obviously not here to have sex with me. That would have been rather difficult for him, considering that he was paralyzed from the waist down. That wasn't the part that surprised me however. The part that surprised me was that I recognized this man. How many times had I seen his face in the news? He was a civil rights legend, and now here he was, standing (or rather, sitting) in my doorway!
"Well, I must say, that is probably the third most interesting way I have ever been greeted by a prospective recruit" Professor Charles Xavier said dryly, "You might want to put some clothing on, Sicily, you and I have much to discuss".