Fanfic Time: Don't Pity Me part 3

Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:

Fracture Three: Girls Can Rape Guys

  Kurt murmured in pleasure as he woke up. His whole body was tingling. He didn’t really care if the Perfectionist and Hure had both got out to play. They’d had more than enough fun for all four of them, by the feel of things. He stretched and opened his eyes. He was still at the Brotherhood place, and it was late morning.

  _I’m in trouble. *Big* trouble…_ He made to get up.

  A solid {clink} and the sensation of metal on his wrist alerted him to the handcuffs. Tabby - she *insisted* on him calling her ‘Tabby’ - had evidently tied him down.

  She’d written something on the mirror in lipstick.

  “Decided to keep you. Will bring you food if you’re a good boy.” It was punctuated by kiss-marks.

  Kurt was out of the handcuffs in a record number of seconds. Good old Uncle Wolf. Teaching him escapology like that. Amongst other 'survival' skills that made Uncle Wolf the least reputable member of Kurt’s adopted family.

  A quick search of the room revealed that his things were gone. All of his things. There weren’t even underpants.

  Kurt tried the enormous wardrobe. Nothing that had even a hope of fitting. Both his mother and Tabby were petite women. He raced to other doors, finding a kitchenette and a luxurious bathroom. There was another lipstick note on the mirror there.

  “Told you I decided to keep you! No food for the naughty blue boy!" and a picture of a Gut Bomb burger with wings.

  Kurt began to hyperventillate. Flight was awake and screaming in his head to run, *now*, and not care who saw him indecently attired. Or as a fuzzy blue devil. He got Fight to wrestle the panicking mask back down for him.

  Think. Proof. He raced back to the bed and seized the photos. Two mother-and-child pictures.

  He was starving. He had barely enough energy for a long 'port, even if he *did* have clothes on. This was going to wreck him. His room was *just* in range.

  "I’m not your property,” he whispered to the empty air, and concentrated on his room.

  {Bamf!}

  He landed wrong, tumbling onto the floor and out of sight of the door. Then he blacked out.

*

  It was early afternoon when he woke up. Nobody had come in, because if they had, he’d have woken up in the hospital wing.

  So weak.

  Had to get up. Had to fix things. Food would come later, not that he felt that hungry. He felt sick.

  He made it to his wardrobe, and siezed the only garment in there that he could reach from the floor. The same thing that hid him on his first trip to America. To cover his sin.

  A bit of concentrated meditation gave him enough energy to crawl to his dresser and extract the papers associated with his cards.

  There was a phone down the hall. He could make it. He had to.

  All the aches and pains of the previous night were visited on him threefold, because of the teleport. It had been a rough trip.

*

  Kitty picked up the 'phone and started dialing Lance’s number. She put it to her ear and heard syrupy hold music. “Okay, who’s like, using the 'phone?”

  “K-katzchen?” He sounded *horrible*.

  “Kurt? What are you like, *doing*?”

  “Please, Katzchen. I need to use the 'phone for a while,” it was almost whispered. “I’ll try not to be long. I only have a dozen left.”

  “A dozen what?”

  “Please, Katzchen… please…”

  Where was he *calling* from? His room didn’t have a 'phone. Kitty peeked out of her room, and almost missed looking right at him. She hung up and tossed her extension back into her room.

  Kurt was huddled up under the telephone stand like he was hurt. There were two stacks of papers in front of him and he clutched at the 'phone like it was a life preserver.

  She rushed up to him. “Where have you *been*?”

  “Shhhh…” A pause. “Ja. I was pre-approved for a card with you. I want to report it stolen. Sometime last night. I can’t be more accurate. I was - distracted. Ja. Last time I remember using that card was - two weeks ago. I finished paying it off. Ja, you can cancel the account. Danke.” He moved one piece of paper from the small pile to the big pile, hung up, picked up, and started dialing again. “Eleven more.”

  His sleeve fell down.

  Kitty stared at what she saw there. It looked like - paint… She made to take his hood down.

  He blocked her and muttered, “Katzchen… please…” he feebly waved her off. There was more paint on his other arm. “Ja. Hello. My name ist Kurt Wagner; W-A-G-N-E-R. I was pre-approved for a card with you?”

  Kitty guessed he’d been at it for a while. How many people had passed him by and not noticed he was there?

  _Jean? Something’s up with Kurt. It looks like he was like, robbed or something._

  _Kurt? You *found* him?_

  _Don’t tell the Professor. Not yet. He looks like he’s in pretty bad shape. Just like, get the girls._

  _Why?_

  _I’ve seen victims of rape before, Jean,_ Kitty thought at her. _Kurt’s like, acting exactly the same way._ She knelt beside him and put an arm around his shoulder, not knowing if he knew she was there. Listening to the litany of pre-approved credit cards.

*

  He ate nonstop for an hour, as if he were starving. All they could see of him were glimpses covered in cloth.

  He’d been attacked by someone who knew him, otherwise they wouldn't have painted his fur.

  He was silent the whole time. Not crying, not talking, just eating. They let him, since he’d only said one word once he got off the 'phone. It’d been 'food’, spoken in a tone of hopeful inquiry to the girls who had come to surround him.

  Once he was done, he just sat there panting for a little while. Nobody said a word, but Kitty petted his least-drawn-on hand.

  “Rogue has to know,” he said. His voice was scratchy from not using it.

  “Know what?”

  “Upstairs,” he whispered. “Near my bed. Two photos. From Mystique's bedroom…” Kurt fell silent again.

  When Rogue came back with the frames, she looked shocky and a little withdrawn herself. “There was paint on the carpet,” she said. “I could tell where he fell. He must'a dropped these before he passed out.”

  She put down the frames. One was Kurt, age sixish, clearly unaware that his own mother was holding him on her lap. The other was Mystique - and a baby with red hair and a white forelock.

  “I was older than that when Irene adopted me. I’m practically newborn in this picture…”

  “That means that you and he–”

  “Ja,” whispered Kurt. “Just what I need. Another sister.”

  “I’d denied it before. Buried it under the realisation that she was Principal Darkholme,” Rogue wiped away tears. “But it’s true. She’s my Mom. She’s *our* Mom…”

  Jubes risked, “Did Mystique – hurt you?”

  “Nein. She’s sick, but she’s not that sick.”

  “This one,” Rogue picked up the portrait of Kurt. “She told Magneto she’d do *anythin’*… fer just one day with her son.”

  “At least that was true,” Kurt murmured. Then he broke down.

  “Who *was* it?” Kitty wondered.

  “Exactly how many female mutants do we know?” Rahne said. “Daftie. 'Tis *obvious*…”

  “Boom Boom.” Jean growled. “I aught to give that little – *RRRR*! I aught to give her a taste of her own medicine!”

  “Nein. Don’t.”

  They stared at him.

  “What? You’re not going to *do* anything?” Kitty demanded. “You were like, raped.”

  “Girls can rape guys?” said Jubes. She was instantly shushed.

  “It’s harder to define, for guys,” Kurt said. “I didn’t even know until after. When she’d stolen all my things. And left that *note*… She said she wanted to *keep* me. Chained me up like an *animal*. But I’m not. I’m not. Not an animal…”

  “So this is where all the girls went,” said Scott as he entered the kitchen. “What’s… up…”

  They threw him out by force of their mutual glare.

  “It’s going to come out, now,” Jean sighed. “Everyone’s going to know, soon. Do you think you’re ready to show us - what she did?”

  Kurt looked at her. “I didn’t even look…” he said. “I was hiding because I was ashamed of myself.” He pulled the hood down and uncovered one arm and shoulder.

  Everyone flinched.

  Kitty could see half a rude word shaved into the fur on his chest. There was paint *everywhere*. Spots. Patterns. Drawings. All in neon colours. All over him.

  “Ach. At least she was creative…” He pulled himself back into the coat.

  “Uh,” said Jubes. “When you said she took *all* your things…”

  “That included clothes, ja. This is all I could grab.”

  “OmyGod,” whispered Kitty.

  “It’s just fur, Katzchen,” he said. “It’ll wash out and grow out. I'll be back to normal in no time. Good as new.” He was shaking like a leaf, everyone could see it.

  “You still need to get looked at. Like, make sure you’re like, not injured.”

  “And counselling.”

  “Nein. I just need time. I’ll be okay,” He repeated those last three words until he fell into something below a whisper.

  Only Rogue heard him when he said, “It was the nicest rape I’ve ever had.” She knew her brother didn’t want that information out, so she buried it, right along with all her other unpleasant memories. The Professor had taught her how.

*

  Kurt went out for a walk around the estate at the earliest opportunity. He was thoroughly sick of people trying to be understanding when all he wanted to be was left alone. He was fed, warm, clothed and washed, now. That was all that should have mattered. He even had a holowatch to cover up the painted fur.

  People kept wanting him to talk about it. They were *everywhere*. In his room, in the kitchen, in the theatre… He just wanted them to go away. He just wanted to be left alone.

  But since they couldn’t see that, he sought solitude himself.

  The west wood was a little patch that people avoided. Most people, that is. He liked in there. It was the one place in America that he could pretend he was at home in Heirelgart.

  There was even a big rock he could perch on, think, and sometimes, talk to God. He liked being close to nature when he talked to God. And it helped keep the Monsters down.

  On days like this, he could feel the Monsters scrabbling at the barriers in his mind.

  He needed peace.

  Trouble was, he wasn’t going to find it.

  Yes, the squirrels he’d befriended were there, searching his person for treats before scurrying into the trees. But there was more to the scene than the chattering of squirrels and the harmonies of the birds. Someone was crying. Crying in distress and fear, and telling someone to stop, please, it hurt.

  He knew that sound, and was frozen by it.

  The memories of Hess bombarded him.

  Kurt only got the barest glimpse of the scene inside his little patch of holy ground, but in that glimpse, he saw more than he ever needed to. More than he never wanted to.

  Kitty was pinned to the stone by the weight of her quasi-boyfriend, Lance. He, in turn, was thrusting against her in the final throes of lust. He exhausted himself against her, and laid his body against hers with a self-satisfied hum.

  Kitty was still crying.

  Kurt could smell blood.

  Their pants were crumpled around their ankles. Kitty’s top was scrunched up to her neck. One side of her bra was blatantly askew.

  If he’d only been quicker, coming here, he could have stopped it. He could have saved her.

  _My church is a temple, now,_ Kurt thought as he ran away from reality. _It’s just had a virgin sacrifice._

  And the Wild One leaped into the wood, away from the Bad Man before he could hurt *him*, too.