If You Want Your Nut Milk, Come To This Address

It was a former pork packing plant. Sue Storm would have been a fool not to check it out ahead of time. Yet all was quiet, calm. No red flags in the ownership. No strange radiation signatures. Only a single lifesign, in the main office area. She surveyed the area on foot, invisible, first.

Sue was hungry. Not for food, not exactly. Yet she could feel the need inside of her. She wanted her nut milk. It was the longest she had gone without it in weeks. That in itself made her nervous. And it was what made her come in person to see what Porkum wanted.

She allowed her invisibility to end the moment after she stepped into the building. Sue wore her regular Fantastic Four uniform, which covered everything except her face, hugging every curve. The office was clean, devoid of furniture except for a single desk and a pair of chairs. A large man sat behind the desk, and stood up as Sue came into view. He was about as tall as Sue Storm, but broader, his bright pink suit straining to contain his prominent gut. The head was much like the head of a pig, complete with a snout, and small, dark eyes.

"Mrs. Storm," Porkum said and gestured toward a chair. "How wonderful you could accept my invitation. Please, take a seat."

"I'll stand," she said, arms crossed in front of her chest. Her heart hammered beneath the Fantastic Four symbol emblazoned between her breasts. Porkum hesitated for a moment, and then sat back down. Leaned back in his chair, his pink paws coming together over his swollen gut.

A moment of rude silence stretched out uncomfortably, their eyes locked in an impromptu staring contest. Vaguely, Sue was aware of a smell—a kind of barnyard odor crossed with a men's locker room, slight but detectable beneath the harsher edge of cleaning chemicals. Sue wondered if it was coming from him.

"What did you do to me?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"The organic nut milk is addictive," Porkum said, all pretended joviality emptied. "At a genetic level. You're already feeling the effects of the withdrawal, aren't you? They'll get worse. Weakness. Fatigue. Muscle loss. Eventually, organ failure, effects similar to advanced Alzheimer's. The cumulative effects of withdrawal are irreversible. There is no antidote. But, as long as you get your fix, you'll be fine."

Sue Storm's spine stiffened. His words had been slow, calm, evenly delivered. There was no hint of a lie. The room was cool, but Sue could feel a bead of sweat run down her ribs.

"You're lying," she said flatly.

"I'm not. Go ask any of your super-friends. They'll confirm what I just said," the pig-man said, without mirth or malice. "But if you tell them about me, no more nut-milk. I get arrested or end up dead, no more nut-milk. Like it or not, you need me."

Sue exhaled slowly, her heartbeat suddenly erratic. She felt a tremor run through her recently-healed leg. Was he bluffing? The Invisible Woman had no doubt she could capture him right now, drag him back to the Baxter Building, get some telepath to pry the secrets out of his brain. But curiosity made her ask:

"Why?"

His lips twisted into a slow smile. "Because you needed it. You keep drinking the milk, you'll be healthier than before. You felt it, didn't you? The way your leg healed up so fast. The sense of well-being. Your skin never so bright, even those little laugh-lines melting away. I can help you stay healthy and beautiful for a long time."

"In exchange for what?" Sue Storm said.

Porkum's smile froze. This is what it had come down to. The Invisible Woman, a junkie hooked on a **** only he could supply—and it was time to name his price.