Ecstatic Transformation

Before we start- if you want information on updates, or if you want to pester me to update a fic or write something new (admit it, you do/want to do it...), go to either my online journal (http://www.greatestjournal.com/users/hentaiauthor/) or the erotica community (http://www.greatestjournal.com/community/erotic_stories/) that I'm a member of. You'll probably just bug me, but I don't mind- just make it funny (or rob Python routines) and I'll say your brilliant. You may find out more than you want to know about me, but that's your problem when you get to it, not mine. Oh, and don't expect me to assent to every demand...otherwise things will get really WEIRD...

IV- Treeshade Guerrilla Warfare

"I'm always ready to come to heaven or hell if you'd call so
I'm always ready to loose the beast that can't be my foe"

The windows lining the hallway, like all the others that adorned the walls of the school, were finally free of coatings of frost. February had come and banished the cold that tinged windows white, instead bring with it a cold that bit into exposed flesh.

Stalking along the hallway, a long coat bound round her waist, swaying round her shins, Rogue glanced up as the bells clamoured incessantly, sounding the end of this round of lessons.

Coming to a halt beside her locker, she found an uncomfortably familiar face had arrived at her own locker, right next to hers. Kitty was pulling books from her locker and dumping them into her bag, greeting Rogue as she did so.

"Hey." Rogue said in reply, tuning out her chatter that started immediately, instead pulling open her own locker and dumping books in there. She had no lesson next, and would more than likely spend it as bored as anything.

A piece of paper, folded carefully, fell out of her locker.

Rogue dashed to her knees, scooping up the paper quickly, but her movement had not gone unnoticed.

"And who could that be from, I wonder?" Kitty asked playfully, as Rogue shoved the paper into her coat pocket.

"Nothing." Rogue lied, but badly.

"I doubt that. So, who's it from? Is it from whoever's made you change this past month?" Kitty asked eagerly, curious as always.

"What are you talking about?" Rogue replied, hoping that if she ignored it, Kitty would get bored of the subject.

"Come on, you've been much more satisfied this past month. And you've been disappearing sometimes and then turning up again. And you haven't…you know…at night," Kitty, blushing even at the remote mention of masturbation, moved on swiftly, ng tng to regain her composure by saying, "So who is it?"

"None of your business." Rogue said bluntly, slamming her locker shut.

Kitty prepared herself to ask more questions, but the bells started ringing, and the crowds milling around the hall burst apart, everyone hurrying to lessons. Kitty disappeared along with the rest, but not without a promise to find out who it was Rogue was seeing.

Seeing the back of Kitty finally, Rogue now made her way into the female toilets, a last few leaving them to arrive fashionably late for lesson. They glared at Rogue with distaste, which she returned by ignoring them.

The cubicles were all empty, but Rogue chose a corner one, the furthest from the door. Locking the door behind her, Rogue dumped her bag in the corner, dropping the lid and then sitting down and fishing the note from her pocket. Unfolding it, she read the neat scrawl inside.

The old house. 4. Be there. S.

The old house she'd discovered months ago, wandering the outskirts of Bayville. She thought as she slid off her gloves. Abandoned and left like some set from a horror movie, dust clogged and full of animals, ne wne went there, hidden from view by overgrown forests that infested its grounds.

She'd shown him the way, the day after they'd consummated their secret relationship in the toilets opposite where she now sat, her breath caught in her throat, hand slowly sliding up her belly. She'd shown him all the rooms; the only marks in the dust on the floor her own footprints, both booted and bare.

Glancing about habitually, Rogue slid left her hand up her diaphanous top, sliding her left breast out of her bra, running her fingers over it, lingering on the nipple, teasing it erect. Doing so, she slid her other hand up her top, liberating her other breast, gently caressing, slowly pleasuring herself.

Abruptly, Rogue shrugged off her trench coat, Rogue stood up, placing her bag on the lid. Pulling off her gauzy top, she carefully placed it in the bag. She stood motionless for a moment, enjoying the painful sensation caused by her bra in such an unnatural position, digging in under her breasts, before reaching behind her back and unclipping the thing, dropping it in the bag too. Soon after, her undone skirt was dropped carefully in, followed by the slid off panties.

Putting the bag back in the corner, Rogue slipped on the trench coat, knowing with that and the boots and tights she still wore; appearances would be kept up should someone happen to look under the stalls. And if she had to leave swiftly, then she could keep up appearances. The thought of leaving clad only in that coat let a moan escape involuntarily from her throat, soon followed by voluntary moans as she thrust a pair of fingers into her pussy, thrusting them in and out fast.

Spreading her legs, Rogue now thrust a trio of fingers into her moist pussy, biting her lip as she fought to stop from screaming out in pleasure, thrusting into herself faster and faster.

Four fingers, slamming in and out fast, held in tight by her rapidly contracting pussy walls, her teeth drawing blood that ran down her chin, her eyes screwed shut. They preceded by seconds a strangled moan, edging onto an orgasm sourced scream.

Panting heavily, Rogue let her eyes slowly open, and stared up at the ceiling. Slowly shifting herself, she left her sweat slick skin slide against the material of the coat, before sliding herself off the seat, the coat clinging to her body for a moment before falling free as she stood up.

Wiping at her bloodied lip with the back of her hand, Rogue tried to control her runaway breath, calm herself down. As she reassured herself that she could herself properly quiet, she heard the door to the toilets swing open, and a pair of noisy, chattering students waltzed in.

Glancing about wide-eyed, Rogue pulls her trench around her, not having time to tie it round her waist in her usual, casual way of wearing it. Peering through the gap between the door to her cubicle and the wall between it and the cubicle next to it, Rogue sought a vision of what was beyond the tiny space she occupied.

A pair of girls, mere outlines blurred in her vision, stood side by side, checking their appearance in adjacent mirrors, chattering quietly but unceasingly, their voices a mere babble reflected about the tiled room.

Pressing herself close to the door, her ear brushing against the gap between door and wall, Rogue strained to catch their conversation. It revolved around pointlessly, going nowhere and remaining as meaningless as before, but still she strained to hear what they were saying, still she strained to hear them bitching about teachers and homework, to hear them swapping notes on boys, to hear them complain about bitchy girls who they wished they were rid of.

Then they were gone, still chattering as before, but before Rogue could even hear their names, before she could place the teachers they bitched about, the boys they liked, the girls they hated and the girls they emulated.

Resigning herself at the lack of information, Rogue turned away from the cubicle door, and picked up her bag, her hand reaching inside.

Panting with exertion, Rogue stopped at the edge of the ragged tree line, looking up at the house ahead.

One of the many old family homes of the rich here in Bayville this one, like so many of the others, was a grand, sprawling affair, now gone to ruin. Tiles had fallen off the roof, walls sagged near to collapse, scores of windows were broken. However, the house was mostly unknown, too far away from Bayville for the bored, youthful vandals to scrawl graffiti on, and too far away from their dealers for squatters to occupy the old house.

Leaning against a tree as she caught her breath, Rogue thought back briefly to how she'd discovered this place. She'd been with the Brotherhood bare days when she'd started wandering the outskirts of Bayville, keeping away from the brotherhood house, staying away for hours upon hours. Even so, it took her weeks until she'd found this place, cloaked in bushes and guarded by trees.

It had become a haven. Whenever she needed to get away, for either emotional or sexual reasons, she'd come to the old deserted house. Even when she changed over to side with the X-Men, she still retreated to the old mansion in times of stress and turmoil, to her own little corner of the world where she didn't have to keep herself covered for fear of draining another, where she didn't have to keep her curses muttered, where she didn't have to keep herself cut off from her emotions for fear of the damage they'd do.

Here, she was free.

Running up to the house, she pushed through the over grown vegetation and found the small side door that she'd used ever since discovering the place. Pulling open the door, she stepped inside the dimly lit building.

She was in a side corridor, probably once a servant's entrance. A coat rack lay empty and dust covered. A small table had a piece of paper on it.

Picking it up, Rogue read one word in a familiar handwriting. The word was 'kitchen'.

Making her way through the deserted rooms and corridors, heading toward the kitchen, Rogue eventually found herself in the kitchen, an old room with stone walls, a fireplace unlit for decades and a massive, dirt strewn wooden table. A plastic bag sat on the table.

Walking over to the table, her footsteps echoing loudly, Rogue peered into the bag. Only a piece of paper stared back at her.

She picked it up, read it, turned it over to check for any additional information. There was none.

Placing the piece of paper on the table, Rogue obeyed the instructions on the paper exactly. Carefully removing every piece of clothing, folding it and placing it in the bag, Rogue undressed.

Bag in one hand, boots in the other, Rogue walked over to a cupboard under the sink, placing the two in there, closing the door behind them, before returning to the table and picking up the piece of paper again.

Running her finger over her neck in lieu of fiddling with the collar that was usually there, but removed due to the orders, Rogue read over the words again. Eventually, she put down the paper, and headed to the back door.

Wrenching the thick door open, she padded out into the garden, once finely cultivated and walled, but now overgrown and fallen into ruin. Walking slowly through the garden, Rogue shivered in the cold. The sun was low, and there was no sign of anyone else.


Stepping over a tumbled down wall, she kept walking, her eyes darting about, clutching her arms to her sides in an attempt to keep warm. Eventually, she reached a cluster of trees that towered over her, vegetation thick around them but not under them.

Stepping into the shadow of the trees, she reached out to brush her fingers against the bark of one of the trunks. Turning round, she looked back at the house, squat and brooding.

"Don't move."

Her eyes snapping wide, Rogue fought the temptation to turn around. She thought desperately to remember what was behind her. Trees. Darkness. Both could contribute greatly to concealing a person.

"Get on your knees."

The voice was familiar.

"On your hands and knees." It added, once she had complied.

The voice she knew well.

"Good."

She knew it so very well.

Raking her hands through the leaves, keeping her gaze on the floor, she listened instead of looked. She heard the slight rustle of clothes, of zips, of a lid being removed and the familiar sound of gloves being snapped on.

She'd heard it all before, and she didn't want to just hear, she wanted to feel.

She felt his hands on her sides, gloved and controlling. She felt him press himself to her, sliding his hard cock into her ass, easing himself in. She willed herself to relax her muscles, and he was in, she was full.

He thrust into her, slamming himself against her. Every thrust rocked her forward, pulsing faster and faster, beating in time.

Her hands skidded in the dirt, and Rogue found her face in the ground, but the pulse like thrusts didn't halt. She pushed herself back up, freeing her dirt smeared breasts to judder and swing in time to each thrust.

Moaning low, the constant sensation of each thrust exciting her senses, Rogue lifted a hand off the ground, balancing herself precariously on one hand. Reaching with the lifted free hand towards a pussy she knew was ready, that she knew was slick, Rogue wanted to relive herself of the arousal.

A hand grabbed her wrist roughly, but no word was said. Understanding the message, Rogue placed her hand back, raking the dirt beneath her fingers at the unrelieved arousal.

His jeans are rubbing painfully against her skin, the fabric slowly but steadily rubbing her raw. The zipper scratches randomly across her skin, opening up skin around her asshole.

Pounding faster,ppedpped tighter. Slamming harder, sensations better.

Torn apart she screams for release. Sucked in, he screams in release.

Staring at the ground, her lip reopened, spilling blood gently down her chin, Rogue waited in the stillness until it was broken.

He pulled out of her ass, leaving his load to slowly dissipate. Fighting the temptation to turn around, Rogue listened. There was movement, and she heard him stand up, and move around her. Looking to the side he was on, not moving her heade sae saw him kneel, his cock free in the cold air.

Her head was forced down, her hair moved out of the way of her neck. Rogue stared at her breasts, hearing the rustle of cloth and the clink of metal, as they swayed in the air. Cold and arousal made them tender, and each nipple stood stiffly and readily erect.

She felt something being placed around her neck. A familiar material- leather. A buckle, tight on her throat, the metal cold against her skin.

A pull on the makeshift lead, and Rogue skidded in the dirt, scrambling on her hands and knees, looking up and seeing Scott moving slowly, the belt gripped tightly in his hand.

Crawling through the mush of leaves, banging her knees on protruding tree roots, Rogue followed, lead slowly in the direction of the house. Exiting the overn tan tangle of trees, and into the more open garden, tangled with bushes and an unkempt lawn, Rogue stumbled in the light, falling the the dirt.

Scott didn't wait for her to regain her nce nce this time, instead dragging her along the ground, dirtying her. Filthy, she scrambled to her hands and knees again, trying to keep up.

They reached the tumbled down wall, the stones once forming a grand looking, low wall. Now it had fallen, in many places overgrown by plants. Scott stopped, and looked at the wall.

Staring at his back, Rogue feverishly wished he was contemplating fucking her on the wall. The stones, the roughness. He may have already spent himself once in her ass, but she could make him recover. She always could. She always would. She prayed never to lose the ability.

Pulling at her lead, Scott made Rogue clamber on top of the wall. She mounted it eagerly, sitting split-thighed. Pulling on her lead again, Scott sat astride the wall, and Rogue clambered up to him. She found herself rubbing against a stone that jutted up from the wall. The lips of her pussy against the cold stone, she thought in an instant that perhaps she could fill herself with it. But no- it was too big, she realised as she rubbed herself up and down against it. She could fell her clit rubbing against it, a thousand tiny sparks of pleasure in an instant.

Scott, not noticing or not caring about her pleasuring herself against the wall, said to Rogue, "Work your magic."

Looking down at his cock, flaccid but with a slight hardness to it, Rogue saw it smeared with his semen. Bending her neck to take him in mouth, Rogue fancied that there were traces of herself there, but she tasted only salt.

Taking his entire length in her mouth, something she couldn't do when he was erect without difficultly. Running her tongue over what she held in her mouth, Rogue swallowed what she gathered.

As he grew in length, she let his cock slip out of her mouth. Then, as he stood erect in the cold, she took himk ink into the warmth of her mouth, sliding in and out, her tongue wrapping around him. Doing so, she rubbed her wet self agt tht the cold stone, seeking warmth through movement.

Lips of her pussy sliding against the stone, Rogue rubbed herself against it faster. Her clitoris, hard and full of blood, shot thousands of signals of pleasure back to her, faster and faster. She took the head of Scott's cock in her mouth, the foreskin pulled back by her previous ministrations. Hergue gue wrapped around, licking and lashing, faster and faster, faster and faster.

Abruptly, Scott pulled her away from him, clambering over the wall. Pulling Rogue after him, she stumbled, moaning at her still unattained orgasm. Crawling after him, she came to the back door of the house. The door still hung open from when she'd come out of there.

Taking the end of the leash, Scott tied it round the frame, loose in places, gaps between it and the brickwork. Tying it tightly, Rogue watched him, fascinated. He was still hard from her ministrations. Not about to burst into orgasm any second, nor as hard as he could be, but still…

Kneeling on the dirt encrusted flagstones, Rogue spread her legs slightly, leaning back and supporting herself with her hands. She licked her lips as he turned to face her, and then let her mouth hang open slightly, as if in hunger.

He stood watching her, hies ues unreadable behind the red lenses that shielded the world from him.

He turned and started to walk away, saying over his shoulder, "Don't come inside. Don't want mud in the kitchen."

And then he was gone.

Looking around her new domain, Rogue tried to crawl about it, but the belt was too short, and she could barely move. But the sensation of tightness around her throat was intoxicating.

Many of the flagstones were missing, dirt in the places they used to be. Dirt and grass. The others were cracked, and weeds grew up from them, forcing the cracks wider.

Sitting in one of the patches of dirt, grass rubbing gently against her skin, the belt stretched between her and the door. The brickwork was rough against her back as she spread her legs.

Eschewing the temptation of the thrust, her fingers went straight for her clit, rubbing the swollen and erect cluster of nerves, barely taking a single stroke before she was swelling up with pleasure.

Her free hand, her left hand, groped her breasts, rubbing and pulling at the already erect nipples, adding to the sensations of pleasure. Moans escaped her lips, and her fingers slipped over her clitoris, at a faster and faster rate.

Her back scraped against the wall, feet skidding through the dirt. Gasps edging on screams as she thrust her head back, eyes staring wildly, leather and metal tight against her throat. Her breath steamed in the cold air, hanging momentarily before a new puff of hot air dispelled the old. Her chest rising and falling in time to her ragged breathe, to the strokes of her clit.

Screaming in a rush of shudders and spasms, Rogue bucked in pleasurable contorts restrained only by the belt tight around her throat.

Panting heavily in the frigid air, Rogue's eyes panned in their sockets, taking in the surroundings. Finally, they roved to the doorframe.

Scott stood there, silent.

Compared to the naked and dirt smeared form of Rogue, panting heavily and tied up, he seemed the model of humanity compared to the animal lust, restrained physically from roving, of Rogue. Clothes immaculate. Poised perfectly. Only his cock, standing perfectly erect through the undone zipper, indicated any sense of emotion, of lust.

"Nice show."

She said nothing in reply.

"You want it again, don't you?"

She nods.

"Or do you want me…again."

She nods, again.

"Are you atavistic, or have you ensured against consequences?" He asks, kneeling beside her.

She nods.

"Good." He says, running his gloved hands over her breasts, teasing the nipples, erect from cold and arousal.

Spreading her legs, a gloved hand runs over her pussy. The other hand pulls her forward, away from the wall, the belt pulling tight against her throat.

Kneeling, legs spread, pussy moist, and in the space of a breath Rogue had before Scott descended, a moan of anticipation escaped her lips.

Anticipation turned into pleasure of mom moment as Scott descended upon her, his rigid cock sliding easily, readily, into her pussy, easy thrusts turning inapidapid and hard ones.

Gasps at the pulling belt- tightening every time she moved forward eagerly, slackening every time she was thrust back- were indistinguishable from the ones taken from the constant shifting, moving, presence inside of her, thrusting deeper, deeper, deepest.

Slamming together, a moment of tiny clarity- she knew he always took longer the second time. She would enjoy more in number, but he, dominating, would thrill the same as she. She had him in a vice. A vice of flesh, rather than metal, a vice of raw emotion rather than raw strength, physical and brutish.

Slamming forward, she came screaming. Slammed backwards, she still screamed, bucking against her lover, pulling him against her, fingers raking his back. The thrusts halted, for bare seconds, as she bucked and screamed, raking her fingers through his clothes, her legs tossing wildly, kicking against his.

Panting, breath steaming, Rogue started to slam into Scott the same instant he started to thrust into her again, a gloved hand reaching down her belly, a fabric coated finger teasing her erect clit. The other hand on her lower back, gripping tight.

Thrusting into her, Scott fingered her clit wildly, out of tune to his thrusts. A finger slipped inside her pussy momentarily, trapped for seconds by his relentless thrusts. Sliding free, slick from them both, he slid the finger across her clitoris. A moan of pleasure was his reward.

Faster, faster, faster, faster…stop.

She screamed, and he moaned deep bare seconds later, her contractions taking him where his thrusts first started to lead to.

They stayed perfectly still for a while. The sensation of being penetrated, the sensation of being engulfed. A slick, pleasurable series of sensations.

Carefully unbuckling the belt round her neck, Scott slowly slid out of her. Her neck was raw and red from the belt. It would fadon, on, but the sight was none the less enjoyable.

Bending in favour, she slowly, languidly, cleaned him as before. Sighing in enjoyment, and at the same time at the futility of it, Scott then pulled away from her mouth, standing up.

She pressed close to him a moment later, holding her body tight against his. His flaccid cock stirred against the warmth of her belly. Her lips close to his ear, the warmth of her breath intoxicating, she spoke.

"Love." An inward breath, then an exhalation against his ear. "Do you have it?"

"Of course I do." Scott breathed, the skin-to-skin contact between cock and belly draining him. "You know." He said, stepping away.

"Powers are nothing without asking." She replied as he tucked his cock away in his trousers. Stepping past her a step, he undid the belt from the gap in the doorway, looping it round his trousers again.

A hand raised in farewell, and then he was gone.

Rogue stood in the cold for a moment, lost in thought. Then she turned, and went inside the kitchen. Retrieving her watch from the pile of clothes under the sink, she sighed upon seeing the time. It was too late to stay here without attracting attention.


Her skin still smeared with dirt and sweat, still full from mixed sexual fluids, she got dressed. Panties, tights, boots. A moment looking out from the open door with longing at the tumbled down wall, wishing to fulfil herself there. Skirt, dog collar, bra. Doing the clasp at the back of the bra, looking at the hole between doorframe and wall. Gauzy top, gloves, trench coat. A glance at the flagstones outside the door. The bag, shouldered.

Jogging now, the long trek back to the Institute. Cleansed by sweat, sweat tracks in the dirt on her skin. Underwear stained by their double congress. Sodomy. Buggery. Forbidden.

Forbidden. Seized eagerly.