Attack of the Clones

BY : Citizenjess
Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 1157
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men: Evolution" or any characters therein. I am not making money from this work of fiction.

The porn, as it were, is in part two, natch.

It started on an otherwise innocuous afternoon at the Xavier mansion. Training had been accomplished early in the day, and now, in the late afternoon, everyone had lapsed into their own separate activities, a calm settled over the immediate area. That is, until –

“Professor?” It was Hank, and Charles looked up from the mounds of paperwork he was currently engrossed in. Across the room, splayed across Charles’ love seat, his feet hanging off of the edge, a dog-eared copy of The Once and Future King propped open in one hand, Erik looked up, as well. Hank, for his part, looked a tad nervous. “I think there’s something you need to attend to, sir. Downstairs, at the front door.”

“What is it?” Charles asked, his curiosity piqued. However, Hank refused to say anything more, simply leading the way towards the foyer, Charles and a suddenly alert Erik on his heels.

The commotion was already in full-swing by the time they arrived. “Come on, he’s dressed like Superman, don’t you think?” Sean was crowing. “Except those aren’t the right colors, man.”

“I am NOT Superman.” The retort was spoken in a deep baritone, and Charles blinked, trying to place it and failing. Also in the room were Raven and Alex, the latter appearing to be on the defensive and ready to shoot off one of his incredibly destructive energy blasts and probably take out an entire wing of Charles’ house while he was at it. Once the crowd of excited mutant teenagers had cleared a path for him, Charles stepped forward, glanced at the alleged Superman knock-off … and gasped.


The red-and-purple-clad figure turned fully to face him. “Charles,” he breathed after a moment, his face stricken in awe. Next to him, the real Erik – the other Erik, Charles mentally corrected himself – glared suspiciously at the intruder. As he continued to gawk, Charles realized with growing fascination that, in fact, aside from age – this other man was at least twice the Erik he knew’s senior – the two men had the same facial features and build.

As both Eriks continued to stare at one another in shock, Sean once again piped up. “Why are you wearing that dorky helmet?” he asked the elder Erik, and Charles sighed heavily as everything dissolved into chaos anew.


“Well, it’s definitely Erik Lehnsherr,” Hank announced, waving a couple of DNA samples in the air, his voice rather excited. “They’re identical in pretty much every way that counts. This Erik” – at this, he pointed at the older of the pair, now perched side-by-side in Charles’ sitting room – “is about three decades older, though.”

“No shit,” Charles heard the older Erik murmur. Next to him, the younger Erik smirked, apparently impressed that, in fact, his annoyance at Hank McCoy had never fully dissolved. “I did not come here to debate my identity,” the older Erik announced. “I was well aware of who I was when I was transported back in time against my will.”

“How?” Charles asked, not missing the way the older Erik’s eyes kept raking over him appreciatively, nor minding it, either.

At this, the other man frowned ruefully. “We had an … altercation,” he settled on, choosing his words carefully. “We disagreed on a vital aspect of our fight for mutant rights, and in retaliation, she sent me here. I’m not sure she intended it to be so fortuitous a visit,” he added, “but it was simple enough to seek out the mansion.”

Charles’ eyes are bright; a bit suspiciously so, the younger Erik thinks. “Of course. We’ll try to be of assistance in any way that we can, er, Erik.”

The older man smiled. “You can call me ‘Magnus.’”

Charles grinned widely. “All right, then, Magnus. You’ll need a room, of course, for the duration of your stay. If you’ll come with me, I’m sure we can find something suitable.” He turned to leave and Magnus traipsed after him, walking just a little too close for the younger Erik’s comfort. “I don’t know if I trust that guy,” he muttered once Magnus and Charles were out of earshot.

Alex outright snorted at this. “That’s not a good sign, then, is it?” he chortled, and Erik resisted the urge to float the refrigerator over and drop it on the other boy’s head.



Charles and Magnus were in the midst of an inordinately lengthy bed-making session when Raven pounded on the door, her transformed face flushed. “There’s more,” she gasped out, and Charles and Magnus jumped apart somewhat guiltily. “There’s … just come see.”

Another incarnation of Erik seemed to have arrived, this one with long, long white hair and wearing a rather strange suit with an “X” symbol embroidered on the arm. “He says his name is Joseph,” Hank offered, “but again, same DNA as Erik.”

Soon enough, more Eriks followed: One, roughly the same age as Magnus, wore a mustache and a checkered shirt. “If only,” Magnus snorted in disdain, but this Erik simply stared at him placidly. A short while later, Charles pulled open the front door after someone rapped at it briefly and let out a small scream, having come face-to-face with … himself. “Oh my … terribly sorry,” he bit out, and then squinted. “Ah, you’re … in a wheelchair,” he finished awkwardly.

“It’s a long story,” the older Charles shrugged. Later, another Charles showed up, somewhat younger than Magnus, and dressed as though he spent a lot of time swinging from jungle vines. “Oh, Magnus and I know each other well,” he commented after what had become a rote round of questioning about everyone’s origins. “We met in India while he was volunteering at a hospital during the war.”

The youngest Charles’ brow furrowed. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said politely. “Erik and I met while he was trying to lift a nuclear submarine from the ocean. It nearly killed him. I saved his life, and we’ve been working together ever since.” He ignored Erik’s vaguely uncomfortable shuffling at this.

The influx petered off after an hour or so. Hank, up to his neck in DNA samples that he was now labeling with tiny pieces of scotch tape and a magic marker, sighed, his voice frazzled. “I’m not sure when or how we’ll be able to get them all back to their correct time periods and universes,” he said honestly. “I don’t know if we’re working with a rip in the time-space continuum or what.”

Charles, who had been fingering Joseph’s long, shiny mane, waved his hand absently. “Of course, Hank. Take your time.” He stared around at the collection of Eriks and gestured towards the hallway leading to the house’s collection of bedroom suites. “If you’ll all follow me,” he smiled, “I’ll help you get settled in.” When he and the elder, handicapped Charles made eye contact, he shifted a bit uncomfortably. “I’ll, ah, see about getting you something on the ground floor,” he said quickly, and then hurried off, a crowd of Eriks in his wake.

Left behind, the younger Erik eyed the elder Charles. “So you lose your legs, huh?” he asked, arms crossed protectively over his chest.

Charles just smiled placidly at him. “Yes; and you lose your mind,” he added.

Erik considered this and nodded. “Sounds about right,” he muttered.



By the next morning, all of the clones had dispersed as quickly and mysteriously as they’d arrived. Hank, previously intrigued by figuring out how they’d all gotten there, heard the news and announced blandly at breakfast that he had “other things to do,” and then tossed the DNA samples he’d collected in the trash. As Raven came downstairs to the breakfast table, she noticed the original Charles, unsuccessfully trying to cover up a bevy of newly-formed hickeys with his high-collar shirt, and glared.

“Just how many of those Erik clones did you end up sleeping with, Charles?”

“Most of them,” Charles replied blandly, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“Ugh,” Raven replied. In truth, she had been miffed that, of all of them, only Joseph had bothered to say much to her, and even then, it was only because Charles had sent him downstairs to fetch more alcohol for what, judging by the noise she’d been hearing overhead, had to be preparation for round four. Now, she glanced at the original Erik, who was drinking a cup of black coffee. “I suppose you were part of the festivities, too?” she frowned at him.

Erik shrugged. “We may have all taken some, uh, measurements. It was for research,” he offered. “You know how it is.”

“Uh-huh.” Raven walked around the table and swiped a piece of untouched toast from Charles’ plate. “I’ll be around, pretending that I could walk around naked and someone might actually give me the time of day,” she muttered, though neither Charles nor Erik were paying attention. “Later, jerks” she added, and stalked off.

After several minutes of pleasant enough silence, Charles looked over the top of his paper at Erik. “Raven’s been awfully concerned with her looks lately,” he noted. “Do you think she’s sick or something?”

“Maybe,” Erik shrugged, and thanked Charles when the other man handed him the funny pages.

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