A quick shout-out to bigupstotheravens, who e-mailed me because he noticed what all three of the titles in this story had in common. Very astute! I guarantee that no one else will figure it out, though. (And if someone does, I'll e-mail you an award!) How Long Must I Suffer? by Stormfreak Chapter Three: Don't Wonder Why <somewhere in Northern Africa> The soft breeze lifted Ororo Munroe's hair as well as her spirits. She walked barefoot through the small village, greeting children and parents alike. As the newest teacher here, she was primarily responsible for teaching French to the primary grades. Never mind that she was on the other side of the world - Ororo had never felt happier as she was right now. Small children constantly stopped her, begging to feel her giant belly. They always wanted to know, was the baby awake? Was it sleeping? Hiccupping? Boy or girl? Twins, maybe? Ororo always laughed gaily and answered questions to the best of her ability. She loved every one of her tiny children, and they loved her back. Of that, Ororo was sure. Unfortunately, that was the only thing she was sure of. The men in the village gave her long, lustful looks whenever she passed. The women were a little better; being that she was a teacher, she was slightly respected. The women actually pitied her a bit. Poor Mrs. Bradford - so young to be bearing a child, and her husband dead at that. What man would look at a woman with a child, even a widow? That was the story Ororo was forced to spin, here in this tiny village. Ninety-nine percent Catholic, women were bred to be one thing: wives. In a land where woman actually fled the country to escape harsh behavior, no way Ororo would have been able to tell the townspeople the truth; that her child was the result of a one-night stand. And a rather unpleasant one at that. Ororo shuddered at the memory, pulling her scarf closer around her body as she lowered her eyes and walked by a group of young men. Sometimes, she didn't know why she stayed in a land where women were so oppressed. Then, she would look in the eyes of one of her female students and know why. These little girls needed a role model, a beacon to look up to. They needed to see that women could hold a profession and still be respectable. She had stopped at a cart to look at a beautiful handmade bracelet when the pain hit. Sudden and savage, she felt the water streaming from her thighs first, then the tearing of her flesh. She collapsed to the ground, screaming. Bright Lady, no! It is way too early! The baby isn't due for another month and a half- But apparently, this child was as headstrong as its father. It wanted out. Now. The villagers began to surround her, concerned. An elderly woman took Ororo's hand and tried to console her. Others began to flee in terror, wondering where the ferocious storm had come from. Blindly, Ororo reached for her handbag, and felt around until she found her box cutter. She could hear the women beginning to scream as she flicked the blade open, but another contraction hit her, and the pain was so fierce that the blade fell from her hand. By the time the crowd could figure out what was going on, the elderly woman had pulled a strong-smelling cloth from her small bag. She held it to Ororo's nose, but before Ororo could protest, she was out cold. * Saint Cornelius' Parish for Widows Northern Africa When Ororo woke up, terror surged through her body. She could barely lift her head, and her legs were bound together, preventing her from walking. She had felt this way before…once…she shuddered, remembering that day, so long ago, and yet not long enough to push it from her memory. The nuns stood over her, whispering in Portuguese, glancing at her with worried looks. The woman who had helped Ororo in the marketplace walked over to her. "Do you speak French?" she questioned. "Y-yes…" Ororo mumbled, trying to gather her thoughts. Suddenly, she remembered. "My baby-" "Your baby is fine," the nun replied. "You had a little boy, m'aam." A boy! A damned boy! Ororo had hoped and prayed for a girl - anything but a damned Logan Junior! How would she ever look at him and love him, knowing that he was half of…him? At least with a girl, she could abstractly believe that she was all hers, but a boy? "Wh…where am I?" "You are at Saint Cornelius' Parish for Widows. I am Sister Mary Agnes, the Mother Superior." A younger nun handed the sister a tiny blue bundle. "And this is your son." Mother Superior placed the child in Ororo's arms before she could protest. I cannot see him…I was crazy to believe I could keep him. The second I am released, I will travel to an orphanage and…ohhh, Bright Lady. In her arms lay the most beautiful child the world had ever seen. His ivory-colored locks shone in the dim monastery, and his perfectly shaped mouth twisted to and fro as he cried. Wailed, rather. Screamed, to be honest. "I think he's hungry," the head nurse said softly. "I will leave you alone momentarily." She turned and left as quietly as she came. Hungry!? What am I supposed to…oh. Oh. Ororo blushed as she unbuttoned the modest gown the nuns had managed to slip on her while she was unconscious. She brought her newborn son to her breast. In an instant, the baby was sucking milk from Ororo's breast with such savagery that Ororo winced from the pain. "Stop being so greedy, Cornelius," she chided softly, and amazingly, the baby obeyed. For what seemed like forever, all Ororo could do was gaze at her new little boy, so lovely in his being that it was unreal. How could such a loveless act produce something so perfect? "Cornelius," she said softly, and then she sang it. "Cornelius. Cornelius David Munroe. Oh, oh, oh, how I love you so." She giggled at her silly rhyme as her child continued to nurse peacefully. It was then that he parted his snow-white eyelashes to reveal his slate colored eyes. Gray. Gray, like his father. The crown of hair on Cornelius' head stuck out everywhere, just like Logan's. He was a tiny child, but Ororo could tell that he would have a stocky build. Just like Wolverine. Oh, Goddess! Ororo choked back a sob. Must you be so cruel? Does he have to look just like Logan? I cannot even slip into a fantasy world this way! But she knew she would never give up her son. The door bursting open interrupted Ororo's thoughts. She hastily moved to cover her bare breasts, startling her son. Three nuns, including the Mother Superior, had all entered the small room where Ororo had given birth. Standing in front of them all was a large man, donned in a robe and a crucifix. Striding across the room, he ripped the blanket off Ororo's lap, revealing her bound legs. The priest's eyes bulged. "Sinner!" he screamed. "Jezebel! Lowest of the low! Foul woman!" He spat on Ororo's face, and in her shock, her child was removed from her arms. Ororo lifted her arms to protest, but the priest had grabbed a handful of her hair and slung her to the cold, stone floor. "You lied!" he screamed as his foot connected with Ororo's ribs. "You said you were a widow - you lied!" Kick. "You deceived the villagers!" Kick. "The children!" Stomp. "You are not a widow - you are a whore!" "Please!" Ororo managed to cry before she was lifted to her knees by her hair. The pain that shot through her lower body caused her to scream aloud. "SILENCE!" the cruel man thundered. "You will not lie in a house of our Lord and Savior!" He pointed a long finger at the Mother Superior. "Sister Mary Agnes, did you not rescue this young woman today in the village?" "I…I did, Father Viktor," the sister replied meekly. "And had she or had she not convinced the people of this sacred village that she was a widow? That her husband died three months ago?" Mother Superior only nodded meekly, her eyes not meeting Ororo's. "And did you or did you NOT deliver this woman's child today?" "I…I did, Father." "And were the stitches from her womanhood ceremony removed when the child was delivered!?" Silence. "ANSWER ME!" Father Viktor roared, veins knotting up in his neck. "No…" the elderly nun whispered. "No, they were not, Father…" "LIAR!" Father Viktor dropped Ororo to the floor, delivering a savage kick to her jaw. Ororo felt it crack, and the pain was so blinding that she grew dizzy. "You are a white man's whore, and your child is a bastard. But we will save his soul," the fanatic priest declared. "By sacrificing his life, he will have a small chance of entering the kingdom of Heaven." "Nooooo!" Ororo screamed. "Please, I beg of you! I will leave - tonight, if you want me too. But do not touch my child!" "Your child is the spawn of Satan," a cold-faced nun stated, holding her precious son. "But by sacrificing his mortal life, we will save his eternal life." She turned away from Ororo and began to unwrap him from his blanket. "No! Goddess, no! NO!" Mother Superior came to Ororo to calm her down, but a sudden wind knocked the elderly nun off her feet. Ororo's legs were still bound, but her arms were free. In her mind, she called forth every force of nature she could think of…and within seconds, the church of Saint Cornelius crumbled around her. * Dead. I am dead. Oh, Bright Lady. Ororo lifted her head to the best of her extent, realizing immediately that - fortunately or unfortunately - she was still alive. Every inch of her body was in major pain, but she was still breathing. Barely, though. The space she was in, with all the rubble around her, was rather cramped. Any minute and she would be too upset too - By the Goddess! She had leveled the church. There wasn't a soul alive - not the cruel priest, nor the kindly Mother Superior, nor the cruel-hearted nun that was carrying her - son!? Why can't I hear my son crying!? Ororo flipped herself onto her stomach and dragged herself across the spacious room, tearing her skin over broken glass and sharp rocks. Please, Bright Lady, do not tell me I have killed my son! Ororo pulled herself up slightly and glanced down at the tiny figure bundled in blue. Still, too still. He wasn't moving. "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" Ororo screamed, causing the sky to split apart outside. Tears streamed down her face. Her son…her son…she had just given birth to him…Ororo lay on her back and cradled her stiff baby boy to her chest, smothering him with kisses. "Oh, Cornelius!" she choked. "My dear, sweet Cornelius!" Ororo must've rocked and cajoled her son on that cold, stone floor for about an hour before she drifted off to sleep. The sound of a baby crying jolted Ororo from her sleep. Dazed, Ororo looked down at her dead son, who was anything but dead now. His caramel-colored face was screwed up in an angry expression, and the teeny child was wailing loudly enough to wake every corpse in the church to life. "Cornelius!" Ororo shrieked, sure that she was dreaming. It had to be the lack of food, or the ether she had inhaled, or - "OW!" Cornelius had found his mother's nipple, and was sucking away, pacified at least. Ororo felt her entire body tremble. The Bright Lady had spared her son. * For the longest time, Logan stared at the ceiling fan whirling around and around, too shocked to speak. Ororo had stopped speaking a good fifteen minutes ago, but Logan was absolutely speechless. "Ro…" he said breathlessly. "Are you telling me you were…circumcised as a girl?" Ororo nodded silently in the moonlight. "Achmed practiced a faith that believed in female mutilation. I…I wanted to make him happy," she stated softly. "You…well, where I lived, an uncircumcised girl could not be married. She was considered loose." "But-but-" Logan sputtered, rage constricting his speech. "You and I - I mean, I couldn't have-" "Logan." Ororo's voice interrupted. "Listen. During the ceremony, I was terrified. At that time, I didn't know about my powers, or that my emotions were connected to the weather. So during the time I was being…cut…a terrible storm was looming in the horizon. The midwife looked at me at one point, and she was so startled, she dropped her rock-" "Rock!?" "-I guess my eyes might've whited over, maybe? Anyway, she had halfway finished, but she grew so scared that she simply put the stitches in without removing my entire clitoris. She also didn't pull them as tightly as they should've been." Ororo sighed low in her throat. "It allowed for your…entry." Logan's mind began to race. He remembered laying her on the bed, kissing her breasts, her stomach, fondling her…wait. Fingering her…hold on. Touching her…her… Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Suddenly, he knew why Ororo ran. It struck him like lightning. Until the moment Logan had entered Ororo, he never touched her vaginal area. Not once. Had he thought of her for just two minutes, caressed her womanhood instead of being so quick to just want to get off…"Ororo, I'm so sorry," Logan said, not meeting her gaze. "I swear t'God, I never meant t'hurt you." "I know," Ororo said. Logan looked up then into her blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight, and Ororo smiled shyly. "I should've said something, mentioned it, but to be honest…I never expected it to go so far. I thought one of us would stop. And to be honest, Logan," she added, reaching out and taking his mammoth hand in hers, "I simply forgot about the stitching. It slipped my mind." "Slipped your mind!?" Logan bellowed, so loudly that Neil stirred in his crib. Logan lowered his voice. "Ororo, how can you forget a thing like that?" "The same way you can forget that you have adamantium in your bones," Ororo said evenly. "You…you got used to it," Logan whispered, horrified. Suddenly, he felt a connection with the ice princess. "Yes," Ororo replied softly. "I was circumcised at age eight. It has been well over fifteen years. I have grown accustomed to it." "How…how did they deliver Neil?" Logan asked, still shell-shocked. "They removed the stitches," Ororo answered. "Good thing, too, because I had pulled out my razor and was about to do it myself." She chuckled low in her throat. "I delivered so early, I hadn't had the stitches removed yet." "Are they…are you - I mean, did they-" "No," Ororo shook her head, causing her hair to shimmer in the pale light. "They were supposed to, but in the chaos, they never got around to it. I will probably have them replaced-" "WHAT!? Why?!" "Because it looks like hell down there, Logan. You have to understand the procedure - certain parts of my vagina are no longer there - it doesn't look right." "Ororo, it couldn't be that bad-" "Logan, you know not of what you speak." "But how could you-" "Logan, this is not up for debate. I won't let you challenge my decision." She rode from the carpet and left the nursery. "You're crazy to do it again, Ororo - that's nuts!" Logan followed Ororo into her bedroom. "Logan! It will be done professionally, in a hospital." "I don't give a shit if the Bright Lady herself does the surgery, it's a crazy idea!" "Can't you just drop it?" Ororo demanded, growing agitated. "NO! It's a dumb fucking idea! Whatever you think is wrong with…down there, I'm sure a doctor can fix it-" "LOGAN, LOOK AT IT!" Ororo suddenly ripped off her skirt, revealing nothing underneath. "Isn't that why we're at this crossroads, Logan? Because you didn't look?" But Logan was looking now. And the great Wolverine, who had seen some god-awful things in his life, nearly lost his lunch. Because where there should've been smooth, chocolate skin, there was monstrous scarring. Where there should've been vaginal lips, there was nothing but keloids. And where there should've been a clitoral hood, there was nothing there. Nothing. TBC A/N: What Ororo experienced is called infibulation. Basically, this is where just about everything between a woman's legs is removed, leaving lust enough skin to sew it together in a little line. This website (http://www.cirp.org/pages/female/lightfoot-klein1/) is a good source of information, including diagrams (no real pictures, so don't worry). Forgive me for not naming a specific city and country in Africa, but I didn't want to offend anyone.