Unchained Instinct ( Complete)

WARNING! Some pretty nasty stuff ahead...violent, yet inevitable.


Chapter 44


Logan jerked up out of a doze, the pain throbbing through his body keeping him from real sleep. Opening his eyes, he looked around at the dim room lit only by the glow of Mystique’s stolen equipment. Equipment that kept Charles and Jean at bay...and even Cerebro.

Mentally, Logan called out anyway, hoping for faulty technology, but his thoughts fell flat just as they had every other time he’d tried to contact Charles.

No one was in his head except Mystique and she was doing a damned good job of screwing his mind as well as his body.

Memories sent a wash of nausea through his stomach and bowels, of her turning into Scott and fucking him. She’d purposefully done it hard that time, almost as painful as Sabertooth all the while talking dirty to him in his ear.

How would he ever face Cyke again? How would he be able to look the kid in the face and not remember what Mystique had done to him in Scott’s image?

Logan dragged in a ragged breath and swallowed hard.

“Damned you to hell, you fucking sick bitch,” Logan growled. But no one was there to hear him and again, his words fell flat on the air.

A roar rose up inside of him, rage and something primal demanding a voice to this imprisonment. Logan jerked and thrashed and his own deep guttural voice filled the room, echoing and bouncing off the stone walls, as trapped as he was.

Blood flowed down Logan’s arms, covering the already dried blood from his last attempt at breaking the manacles and chains holding him.

Exhaustion caught up with him after several long minutes of futility and Logan hung in his bindings and waited for replenishment.

The healing was taking longer now, the exhaustion and pain, the lack of food and sleep, not to mention the torture, both physical and mental, taking a toll on him.

Logan closed his eyes and waited for Her to come.

He didn’t have to wait long, his hearing picking up her footfalls long before she reached his prison. He heard the key in the door and the bolts sliding back.

The desire to rip this woman’s heart out and devour the still pumping organ rose up inside of Logan, a low growl already rumbling in his throat. He wanted to taste blood, was beginning to crave the thick red essence of life. Particularly, Hers.

When the lights came on, Logan’s eyes stayed closed then slitted open little by little so as to not be blinded by the brightness.

Mystique was in her own form, checking the equipment.

A snarl shoved its way passed Logan’s clenched teeth and Mystique turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile on her mouth.

“Good evening to you too, Logan,” she said in her deep sultry voice. “I hope you managed a bit of sleep during my absence. You’ll need your strength for this evening’s festivities.”

The snarl broke free, becoming a full roar and Logan thrashed again in his shackles and chains, his mind oblivious to anything but escape.

“Very good,” Mystique purred. “We are making progress. No snappy, sarcastic retorts. Just a bestial roar...like some wounded animal.”

“Die bitch,” Logan snarled. “How’s that for a snappy retort?”

Mystique laughed, a low chuckle full of mirth and triumph. “Not bad. But I’ve known you to do better.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll think up some more for ya.”

She strolled towards him, reaching out to trace the line of his face, her fingers then snagging in his hair. “You don’t have a minute.”

Logan wanted to spit in her face, but he couldn’t manage enough saliva to do so. Instead, he snapped at her, her grip in his hair keeping him from getting a hold of her nose.

“Oh yes, we are definitely making progress,” Mystique said, releasing him and strolling away again.

He watched her open a bottle of water and pour the contents on a cloth. She was going to clean him up and the fear of such a simple act sent a wave of foreboding down Logan’s spine and into his gut.

She never did this in her own form, always transforming into one of the students. Standing before him, Mystique gazed into Logan’s eyes, trying to draw out his fears, his failures and weaknesses.

“Who should it be tonight, Logan? We’ve been through so many of your pupils. I know how much you enjoyed the boy, Jamie. Nothing like having some young thing on his knees sucking your cock, now is there?”

“I’ll kill you, bitch,” Logan snarled through his teeth. “I’m gonna hunt you down and rip you ta pieces.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I’m creating my own death, but right now, I’m enjoying myself so much, I simply can’t imagine that far ahead.”

Logan stared her down, but Mystique was too far gone in her own game to care.

A smile touched Mystique’s lips and she nodded. “I know...we haven’t done Kitty Pryde yet.”

“No!” Logan roared.

“You don’t get to choose.” The transformation began, Mystique’s tall form morphing into Kitty’s diminutive physique, hair in ponytail, bright innocent eyes and fresh youthful face. “How’s this, Logan?” The voice was Kitty’s. Only the smell differentiated from Kitty’s, but even that distinction began to fade almost instantly.

Logan looked away and shook his head.

“Aw, Logan,” Mystique/Kitty said. “I’m just here to help you. We’re going to get that yucky blood off.”

She reached up and ran the cloth from his wrist to his armpit, working her way from front to back. He felt a hand slide over his buttock and a breath on his neck made him think of Kitty on tiptoes.

“Oh Logan,” Mystique/Kitty sighed into his ear. “I’ve always wondered what you’d look like naked. Such strong muscles.” Hands ran down his sides, caressing his hips. He tried not to react, tried to remember this was Mystique, but in his mind, the voice conjured Kitty...pretty little Kitty who was like a daughter to him. But the hands didn’t feel like a daughter’s touch. They felt like an erotic nubile teenager, hot for his flesh.

“Not Kitty. Not Kitty. Not Kitty.” Logan breathed the chant over and over again while this Kitty dappleganger continued to clean the blood and sweat off of him with a sensuous touch.

“There,” Mystique/Kitty said, standing before him. Logan opened his eyes and the confusion inside his brain refused to clear. This facsimile of Kitty stood before him with a coy expression, doe eyes gazing on him with youthful lust.

“I want to make you feel good, Logan,” she said, pressing against him with suddenly bare perky breasts. The hands roamed over his body and that Kitty mouth surrounded one nipple and began to suck and nibble, tongue licking across the nub.

Logan let out a groan and tried to pull free. But Mystique held on, reminding Logan that this was not Kitty, the creature’s strength far outweighing Shadowcat’s. He thrashed again and Mystique/Kitty bit his nipple hard.

Logan let out a roar of pain and Mystique/Kitty stepped back and put hands on hips. “How am I suppose to make you feel good if you can’t stay still?”

“I want nothin’ from you, Mystique. Keep yer mouth offa me.”

Mystique/Kitty shook her head. “That’s not going to happen and you know it. Stop fighting it, Logan. Give in to your desire. Give in to the primal instinct for pleasure.”

“Never. I’ll never stop fightin’ you.”

“Tisk. Tisk,” Mystique said in her own voice. “We still have a long way to go and I have something very, very special in mind for you tonight. But for now,” she said, going to her knees and stroking Logan’s already hardening cock. “Kitty is going to make Logan feel oh so good.”

A tongue licked out, caressing Logan’s cock, running low under his balls. He drew in a sharp breath when Mystique’s/Kitty’s mouth wrapped around him, practically swallowing him whole.

Logan threw his head back and everything except the sensation of having his cock sucked disappeared from his mind, his body taking over, desire for completion all that mattered no matter who was doing the sucking.

Growling, Logan thrust into the hot wet mouth. Fingers dug into his buttock, spreading him and he felt a wet, slick finger probing his hole, pushing in...stroking out. He came with a howl, pumping hard. A hand squeezed his balls, rolling them and adding to his pleasure.

Winding down, Logan felt the mouth recede, Mystique/Kitty climbing up his body to press a kiss to his throat. Fingers in his hair pulled his face down and Kitty lips tasting of his sex kissed him, tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He gave in for a split second then jerked away with self-loathing and disgust filling him up to overflowing.

Mystique’s low, sardonic laugh drove through Logan like a spike through the heart. He’d played right into her hands. He’d fulfilled her desire to make him forget himself and give into primal lust.

“Oh, we have come so far in such a short time, my dear Logan,” Mystique said, no longer in her Kitty guise. She gripped his face with her hands, kissing him hard on the mouth and stroking her fingers down his neck until she had him by the throat. “But not quite far enough,” she added, hot breath in his face.

Another transformation began and Logan closed his eyes, his mind reeling, not yet ready to deal with another of Mystique’s incarnations of people he cared about. The fingers on his throat tightened, shoving his head back.

“Look at me,” the voice snarled. “Open yer eyes, Logan.”

“No,” he whispered. “Not this.”

“Do what I tell ya, darlin’ or I’m gonna hurt ya worse than what I even intended.”

“NO!” Logan roared, trying to jerk free, his eyes flying open involuntarily. “You can’t do this, Mystique!”

A smile unlike his own came over the face before him. “Watch me,” the voice said and once again, Logan could detect nothing different in the inflection or tone. His voice. His face. His body.

“God damn you, bitch! Just when I think you can’t get any sicker...any lower, you prove me wrong.”

Mystique/Logan pushed away from him and a fist lashed out, knocking Logan’s head sideways. Blood filled his mouth and he spat. Again, the fist lashed out, driving into his stomach. His muscles clenched into spasms, his claws snicking out without his permission. But they were useless with his hands trapped in inches of steel manacles.

“Ya think yer the only one with that trick, bub?” Mystique/Logan said. Claws slid out from the backs of the imposter’s hands, perfect replicates of Logan’s own, just as sharp if not as strong as adamantium. “Ya wanna taste of these?”

Logan spat more blood and said nothing.

“Ya got nothin’ ta say?” Mystique/Logan asked with a menacing inflection. “Maybe I oughta just cut yer tongue out if you got no use for it.”

Words failed Logan, his mind jumbling with too many conflicting images, nothing to say in this moment of insanity.

His dappleganger laughed, his laugh, no longer any hint of Mystique in her perfect rendition of him. It was like looking in a mirror, except the other Logan looked much less worse for wear.

His double stepped closer, hands reaching out and running down his chest and sides with a cruel touch. Logan jerked, trying to avoid the touch, but Mystique/Logan pressed close, wrapping arms around him. A hand worked up his spine to grip the back of his head. The mouth caught his, fingers working his jaws, forcing his mouth open. He tasted the other’s breath and his double’s tongue worked it’s way around his mouth, kissing him long and hard.

Logan struggled against this invasion, struggled to break free of Mystique’s hold.

“Settle down, darlin’,” the voice growled in his ear, giving his hair a yank. “We’re gonna do this, so ya might as well enjoy it. Relax and let it happen. Maybe I won’t hurt ya so much.”

“Fuck you!” Logan snarled.

A low chuckle caressed Logan’s ear. “That’s just what I had in mind and since yer so eager....”

Logan let out another snarl, thrashing again, but that seemed to amuse his dappleganger, like this was some kind of game. And to Mystique, it was, the goal to make Logan forget that this replicate was Mystique and not himself.

“Yer gonna do whatever ya wanna do, Mystique,” Logan said, his breath thick with disgust. “But don’t think yer gonna fool me into believin’ I’m screwin’ myself.”

Dark eyes bore into Logan’s and the doubt and disorientation returned. He shook his head, trying to clear the web of confusion Mystique had woven around his mind with her sick tricks.

“We’ll see what you believe when I’ve fucked ya a few times, darlin’.”

Mystique/Logan stepped back and let long deadly claws slide out. Hands reached out for him, slowly drawing the blades down Logan’s chest. He sucked in air and threw back his head. His double circled him, claws drawing blood in long rivulets, flaying skin all the way around to his back. Again, the claws raked his flesh and Logan felt the blood flowing down his spine and sides.

A mouth at his shoulder sucked on one of the wounds, tongue licking blood from his skin. Logan squeezed his eyes shut when arms wound around him, stroking his chest and stomach, sliding down to his cock and balls.

He was limp with revulsion, tired beyond description. He forced a swallow, his throat so dry he felt as if he’d inhaled the Sahara.

The sound of the claws snicking safely away got Logan’s attention and he felt fingers, slick with blood perhaps or maybe just spit force their way inside of him.

“I can make it good, Logan...or I can make it hell,” Mystique/Logan growled into his ear. “Maybe we’ll do it both ways. Yeah, that’s it, both ways.” Mystique/Logan emphasized the words with finger jabs up inside of him. The other hand slid up his chest to his throat and forced Logan’s head back, grip brutally tight. “But I’m gonna rape you right now. I’m gonna hurt ya just like ya hurt Kurt.”

“Damn...you, Mystique,” Logan choked out a snarl, the hand squeezing his throat tighter. “I’ve...paid...for that...a hundred times...over.”

“You’ll never pay enough. Ever.”

Mystique/Logan shifted and slammed in, coring him to the hilt. Logan let out a strangled gasp and sucked in air through gritted teeth. Claws sprang out of the hand holding him around the waist and with the twist of a wrist, the blades sank into Logan’s side, anchoring deep. He let out another strangled cry while behind him, his double drove in with brutal thrusts, drawing out and slamming back in with jarring power.

Pain rode every nerve ending in Logan’s body and the agony reached a new level, one he hadn’t realized he possessed. His thoughts grew grey, pain the only thing keeping him conscious. Blood welled up his throat and out his nose, choking him.

And the pounding continued, his double growling in his ear, nipping at his neck and shoulders. The claws pulled out of his side and drove in again, deep into his stomach. Another wave of blood pushed up Logan’s throat, overflowing down his chin. He tried to cough, but the hand squeezing his throat tightened until darkness took Logan’s sight and thoughts and plunged him into unconsciousness.