The Thing That Came On X-Mas Eve

X-MEN: THE THING THAT CAME ON X-MAS EVE

Loosely based upon the classic comic book story by Chris Claremont, John Byrne and Terry Austin, as published in Uncanny X-Men #143. Told now without any damn censoring.

*****

CHAPTER 1: SILENT NIGHT, UNHOLY NIGHT

It rained indoors.

Closing her eyes, the tall young woman threw her head back and opened her arms in a sweeping gesture of welcome, delighting in the feeling of the rainwater flowing through her long, silver hair and over the flawless dark skin of her nude body.

Her hands ran slowly through her flowing hair, over the tall forehead and high cheekbones, and down the long, graceful neck to the softness of her ample breasts, while the downpour localized around her grew to cover the full expanse of the attic.

The plants filling the large room were more than just potted flowers. Weeds and wild foliage had space as well, making the place seem like a small pocket of tropical jungle, surrounding the figure of their mistress with walls of luxuriant greenery.

The murmur of rain falling on leaves was music to her ears, she thought, and smiled, as warm water pooled at her feet faster than the floor drains could clear. She had probably needed this far more than her plants did.

For a moment, she could almost forget that both she and the plants were in an enclosed space, inside the attic of an old mansion in Westchester County.

For a moment, she could almost believe herself to be back in Kenya, back before becoming Storm, before becoming part of the X-Men, back when she was just Ororo, so-called weather goddess of the African veldt.

For a moment, she could almost be happy, and almost allow herself to relax; almost.

It was only rarely that she allowed herself indulgences like this. But no matter how tempting it was to surrender to the bliss of the moment, she had to remain focused, as always, to sustain full control of her mutant powers of weather manipulation. Only that made a tropical shower possible inside the attic in the first place, in implausible denial of the cold winter ruling outside the walls of the mansion.

She always had to be in control. Her subtlest shift in emotions, the slightest subconscious thought, could affect the weather around her in undesired fashion. She needed to be always aware, focused, keeping the balance of nature undisturbed.

Always.

**********************************************

Snow had fallen heavily, coating the land, but for a lone rocky clearing, free of anything but the myriad fragments of rock scattered over barren black ground. Even the air seemed to have a quality of stillness not present elsewhere.

The stillness was suddenly broken, by something that had not been there an instant before.

The thing stirred in the cold air. With long, sinuous steps, it left the clearing, driven by hungers much darker than the surrounding night.

**********************************************

"Ororo! I aced it! I totally kicked ass!"

"Congratulations, Kitten," Ororo said with a broad smile, adjusting the sash of her robe as she walked down the stairs, towards the thin teenager waiting below, all smile and shining eyes beneath a wild tangle of curly brown hair.

"I may have chosen a different expression," said the bald man in the wheelchair behind the young girl. "But indeed, Kitty performed quite well. She has an exceptional aptitude for science and technology."

"I knew you would do fine," Ororo said, taking the girl by the hand.

"Angel said not even Hank did so well in the computer rundowns!" Kitty Pride exclaimed, her smile almost bursting the limits of her face, as her hand fidgeted nervously in Ororo's gentle grip. "Oh, who's Hank, too?"

"Hank McCoy is a former pupil of the school. But the examinations are not over yet, young girl," Professor Charles Xavier said.

"Bring them on!" Kitty said, beaming broadly.

"Not right now, though," Xavier said, smiling warmly himself. It had been a long time since the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children had housed such a young charge, so full of innocence and enthusiasm. "I must go to town briefly, child. Give an old man a break, please."

Even the mentor of the X-Men could not help but be won over by Kitty's effervescence, Ororo noticed.

**********************************************

"Driving Charlie, are you?" Logan asked, lighting his cigar while reclining against the solid wood handrail of the stairs.

"Kurt is driving," Peter Rasputin said, looking down at his short teammate by necessity, given the dramatic difference in their respective heights. "But I will go, too. I wish to do some more shopping yet."

"Wait till the last minute, eh?" Logan snorted a laugh. "Never buy much in way of gifts, myself. Too much hassle. But hadn't you already sent stuff to your family in Russia, Big Guy?"

"Uh, yes, but..."

"PETER!"

Both men looked up to see Kitty and Ororo coming down the stairs, the former apparently embarrassed by her loud call, her cheeks reddening.

"Hello, Peter," Kitty muttered nervously. "You know, I passed."

"Congratulations, Katya," Peter said. "Ororo, how do you do?"

"Fine, Peter, thank you."

"'Lo, ladies," Logan said, raising both his cigar and a thick eyebrow in greeting, while looking at the long robe worn by Ororo, its loosely tied sash allowing generous views of cleavage and leg. The white terry-cloth set off nicely her cocoa skin, he decided. "Not going over to town?"

"Not really. Are you?"

"Was about to ask Petey here to drop me off to pick up my bike. Will meet Mariko at the embassy later; must teach her to appreciate Canadian beer, among other things," he said with a mischievous smile. "Wanna come?"

"Oh, no. I'm staying with Kitty."

"Hell, the kid can come, too. I'll give you a tour of all the right wrong spots."

"You're a bad influence," Ororo said, walking past him. "On all of us."

"Proud of it," Logan replied, grinning.

"Let's go, Kitten," Ororo said. "We must get the appetizers ready before getting dressed for dinner."

"Bye, ladies. Take care."

"Until later," Peter added.

"Yeah. Bye," Kitty said with a shy smile before hurrying after Ororo.

Logan watched both walk away, and smiled broadly at where the eyes of his young Russian teammate were fixed upon.

"Quite an ass, eh? She can move it, too."

"What?" Peter gasped, shocked.

"Butt like that can get any man steel-hard, kid, mutant or not. Pity the cape covers it up most times, eh?"

"I wasn't-!"

"Big distraction during fights, though."

"No! I mean, I don't-!"

"Damn shame she stopped swimming naked, too. That's civilization for you."

"It's not-"

"It's ok to watch, kid. Big, round, firm ass, with long, solid legs. What's not to like?"

"You shouldn't-"

"Generally like 'em petite, but for a butt like that I'd make an exception. Jugs may be a bit too big for my taste, though. I'm more of a mouthful kind of guy."

"Logan, you-you shouldn't say such things."

"Why not? Lady's hot. Why pretend different?"

"It isn't proper!"

"Bullshit. She's hot, I notice, I say it."

"Logan, she's a lady!"

"Sure. She's smart, tough, capable, and has an ass I'd lick all night. Doesn't make me respect her any less. Why should it?"

"It's just not polite."

"I speak to her, I do polite. Still tell her she's hot anyway, just nicer. Anything else is bullshit. You should do it, too, kid."

"I'd never!"

"Why not? You don't think she's hot?" Logan smiled broadly. "Smells like you do."

"I do? I smell like-?"

"Sure. So why bullshit her or yourself?"

"Well, I just-"

"Just speak to her."

"I-I- couldn't-"

"Wouldn't turn you down hard, anyway. She's too nice for that."

"Really?"

"Take a chance, kid. She could use a good fuck, too."

"Logan!"

"The aloof goddess thing makes her more alluring and all, but she may be a bit too uptight for her own good, you know."

"I-I-"

"She's too tightly reined. Too repressed. Not healthy."

"I wouldn't know what to-"

"Now, Jeannie," Logan began with a wistful smile. "There was a woman who was classy, but knew when to let her hair down..."

Logan grew silent, and Peter, looking down, kept quiet as well, sadness and embarrassment in his eyes.

"Anyway, let's go, kid," Logan said after a while, putting out his cigar on the wooden wall paneling. "Charlie and the elf must be waiting."

"Yes, true," Peter said, glad that the discussion was now over.

"The young kid's hot for you, by the way."

"What? Who? Kitty?"

"Yep. Thought you should know."

**********************************************

"Oh, my-!"

"Damn!" the second policeman said, a grimace of shock and disgust in his face, as his hand trembled and the flashlight almost fell off. "T-These were people! People! What could have done this?"

The first policeman was already on the other side of the road, heaving loudly.

**********************************************

"He's so cute," Kitty sighed.

"Peter? Well, yes, I guess so," Ororo replied. "He's a good friend, soft-spoken and kind."

"And so tall and dreamy!"

Ororo smiled, basking in the glow of Kitty's clear excitement. Had she ever been this young herself?

"Here. Try this one," she said, taking a dress from the closet.

"Aw, no! I'll look like a dork! Mom must've picked that one out of Old-Maids-R-Us!" Kitty protested, twisting her face in a sour grimace. "Just help me with the make-up, please?"

"Kitten, you don't need make-up."

"You bet I do! All my friends back home-"

"You are too young to need-"

"That's the point! I don't want to look like a child!"

"I'm an adult and I don't use any-"

"Like you need any!" Kitty dropped face-down on the bed. "Not everyone's born just gorgeous like you! Me, I can't even get my hair to work right! I hate it!" She sighed and turned, to stare at Ororo, wore only brief shorts and a white light sweater nearly matching her long silver hair. Kitty felt a deep ache in her chest at the sight of the long bare legs and the large bust clearly delineated under the sweater. She knew well that she would never, ever, look halfway like that.

"You are beautiful, Kitten," Ororo said, sitting by her on the bed. "Loving yourself is the first step to true-"

"It's easy to love yourself if you have your face and your hair and your body!"

"Appearances aren't everything-"

"Oh, sure, you're an ugly, shriveled hag inside," Kitty cut in with an impish grin.

The alarm filled the air before Ororo could reply.

**********************************************

In the backseat of the spacious luxury car, Logan frowned, and shifted uneasily.

Charles Xavier was engaging both Kurt Wagner and Peter in casual conversation, but Logan had no desire to join in. There was something bothering him, deep inside.

He had caught a strange smell just before getting into the car, the smallest hint of something out of the ordinary, something not right. Joking with his friend Kurt at the moment, he had paid it no heed, but it still lingered in the back of his mind, in the part of him that trusted his instincts more than any rational thought.

He opened the window despite the sudden complaints about the loss of heated air, and breathed deeply. There was nothing there anymore.

It could have been some long-dead animal in the woods near the mansion, he thought. It had indeed resembled the faint smell of old, musty dead things.

Maybe he should go back.

Maybe he just needed a cigar.

**********************************************

"Oh, shit! What's happening?"

"We'll know soon," Ororo said, opening the panel by the door and accessing the security monitoring system, while the loud ringing of the alarm continued to fill the mansion. "Something broke the security perimeter. At my attic," she added with a frown.

"We're the X-Men! How can we get burglars?"

"It may be a false alarm," Ororo said. She did not want to worry the young girl, but being X-Men meant that much worse than mere burglars could be involved. "Stay here. I'll check."

**********************************************

All were dead.

Snow had been blown in through the large broken gap in the skylights, and every plant in the attic had turned a sick shade of brown.

Even the winter cold could not have killed all her plants so fast, Ororo knew, disturbed. The attic appeared empty of intruders, but no night bird or blown branch could have broken the reinforced glass.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

With a shock, Ororo realized that she felt the cold. She never felt cold. Yet now she shivered.

"Ororo! Your plants! What happened?" Kitty cried out, stepping through the door.

The tall woman turned, about to chastise her young friend for having followed her, and froze.

Ororo, the powerful mutant codenamed Storm, new field leader of the X-Men, felt terror clutch at her heart.

"No," she whispered inaudibly.

It could not be. She had banished them that night, long months ago. They were gone. It was gone. It could not be back.

CHAPTER 2: LEST OL' AQUAINTANCES BE FORGOT

The elements raged around her in the night sky. Rain, wind, thunder and lightning performed a crescendo of Wagnerian proportions, reflecting the growing desperation of their Mistress.

The X-Man called Storm flew through a dark cloud that had nothing to do with the weather. Surrounding her, like a plague of demonic locust, the beings known as N'Garai swarmed, multiple clawed hands seeking holds on the young mutant's body. Several of the flying fiends blandished ethereal lances of solidified sorcerous energy, which all too often came close to spearing her through.

None of the N'Garai was over two feet tall. They had skeletal-like humanoid bodies with oversized heads of grotesque demonic features, but their frail-looking limbs belied their tenacious strength. No matter how hard Storm strained to fly clear, she was unable to shake them off for more than brief instants. The winds she generated to keep herself aloft had reached gale intensity, yet the powerful gusts could barely keep her attackers from grabbing onto her, no matter how fast and hard she banked and dove in mid-air.

Storm was growing desperate. Her mutant powers of weather-manipulation, which had labeled her a goddess back in Kenya, seemed practically useless against the cluster of small but vicious foes. She tried to strike at them with hands or feet as well, but they seemed to grow as insubstantial as fog. She could almost believe them to be illusions, if in the nearby mansion that was home to the X-Men a hideous monster of gigantic proportions, the self-proclaimed master of the demonic beings, was not engaging her teammates in a duel to the death.

Her target was the ancient stone cairn nestled in the thick woods below, a rune-covered artifact which had apparently given the N'Garai access to the Earth dimension; her destroying it could be the only way to stop their attack. So far her need for constant evasive maneuvers would not allow her the chance to strike at it with a focused lightning bolt, yet each second she was delayed could mean the death of a friend.

She could wait no longer. Gritting her teeth, she rammed through the creatures in a sudden swerve, and headed down, focusing her power, sweeping the damp, ionized air around her for the necessary energy.

Her dive was instantly cut short, and her mouth opened wide in a breathless cry, as a glowing, immaterial shaft suddenly protruded between her breasts. It pierced her for a fraction of a second, before vanishing into nothingness, its evil work done.

The sharp, multifaceted pain had been unspeakable. While no physical wound remained, Storm felt her chest burn with cold fire, and her concentration was broken. As she lost control of her flight, a dozen clawed hands grabbed her limbs, hair and clothing, securing her in viselike grips.

"NO!" she yelled, struggling in vain to dislodge the creatures, appalled at the cold, clammy touch on the exposed skin of her arms, legs, neck and midsection. The squirming creatures closed in, pressing tighter, seeming to compact around her into a dense single mass. Storm felt panic rise as her claustrophobia compounded her already mounting horror.

"GET OFF ME!"

Suddenly, while the N'Garai held her fast in their grasp, a blast of eldritch energy erupted from the carved piece of stone below, striking the X-Man in an eerie, silent conflagration.

Feeling her consciousness slip away, Storm could barely register anymore the myriad hands greedily pulling her down. Down to the dark woods. Down to the cairn.

The ancient tower of stone stood in a rocky clearing, a small, bare spot where the woods could not or would not venture. It was carved with complex patterns and indecipherable symbols, remnants of languages lost to the memory of the world. Each carved line now glowed with cold fire.

The massed creatures laid their captive face-up on the large flat stone at the foot of the cairn, a rough platform stained with faded blotches of dark colors of forgotten origins. They voiced strange incantations in tones below the threshold of human hearing, as they spread the young woman's legs and arms apart. The viselike fingers of several N'Garai gripped her ankles and wrists, while others ran sharp claws over her prone body, tearing apart the tough fabric of her distinctive uniform as if it were flimsier than paper.

Rain struck her face and body, now bare but for her thigh-high boots and the tattered cape spread under her, while rainwater flowed down the prominent curves of full breasts, muscular thighs and high cheekbones. Hands that had shredded her clothes began to slide over her smooth, wet skin with deliberate slowness. Still unconscious despite the pouring rain and the many inhuman hands boldly exploring her body, Ororo shifted in the grasp of her captors with a grimace of discomfort. Her mind seemed trapped in the strange rhythms of the mumbling voices, as they grew slowly into a kind of urgent, primordial chant.

The beings clustered over the fallen heroine, humming continuously while groping her firm flesh. Raking claws left small trickles of blood in their wake. Gnarled fingers kneaded roughly her soft teats or pinched sensitive nipples. Assorted demonic faces leaned closer, sharp teeth biting at the slowly hardening nubs and the tender flesh around them.

Storm squirmed at the rough caresses, yet arched her back slightly, leaning into them. The N'Garai chant, barely audible yet omnipresent, seemed to permeate her whole physical being, creating an undeniable sense of need that her clouded mind could not fathom.

A small N'Garai, hunched between her spread thighs, extended an inhumanly long tongue and began to lick a trail down her taut abdomen, before finally moving to the junction of her legs.

The chant grew in power.

She gasped as the slimy tongue began to work on her sex, first teasing the outer folds, and then probing into her wet depths. The daring ministrations sent an intense tremor through her frame, to join the rhythmic pulsing caused by the N'Garai chant.

The caresses in all areas grew more insistent, as did the chanting itself. Her captive body started to move in response, undulating sinuously, as if dancing to slow yet powerful beats, her fast, heavy breathing a disjointed counterpoint. The very rocks and ground under her seemed to echo the powerful pulses shaking her body.

Then, as the chant seemingly reached its point of no return, the cairn looming above the X-man and her captors released a sudden flash of cold, blinding light, and a dark towering silhouette appeared from nowhere, back-framed in the unholy light.

The throng of small N'Garai, their chant subduing to a low, constant humming, moved slowly away from Storm, except for the groups grabbing her ankles and wrists, and the one still busy between her legs, facing away from the newly arrived figure.