Sue Lets Malice Out To Play

Sleep came fitfully to Sue Storm that night. Guilt can be insidious. It upsets the equilibrium. As she tossed and turned, memories surfaced. Dark memories that she had long sought to bury. Of a part of herself that she had cut away from her psyche, years before. A psychic surgery that had left scars...

Sue remembered the feel of the latex mask on her face. How dangerous the spikes had made her feel. How sexy she had been in her costume, so much of her body exposed. Years of repressed emotions finally found release, and Sue hadn't felt any guilt at finally acting out.

Because she hadn't been Sue anymore. That new personality had overtaken her. A name that better suited her new attitude. All the anger and dark emotions she had been forced to swallow, all the trauma that she had sought to bury, had bloomed forth, and only one word had seemed fit to define it.

Malice.

What was left of Malice inside of her now? Was it the part of Sue Storm that wanted to have sex with Nairobi? Or the part of her that hated Reed for driving her to this through his neglect? Sue Storm's breathing slowed, her breasts heaved up, and her brain, so subtly manipulated by Moonstone's powers and words, blossomed as she lay on the edge of sleep and wakefulness.

Everything that had made Malice come forth in the first place was still there. The emotions and desires that Sue Storm still repressed. The stultifying marriage to a man with less emotional intelligence than the Man-Thing. Just a little betrayal was all that was necessary to get the ball rolling again. To push her mind back towards those paths of thought.

As sleep finally claimed her, something broke through. Or perhaps, Sue Storm simply ceased fighting it. She felt herself relax as she let go of the guilt, and embraced the possibilities that this new relationship offered.

When Reed Richards arrived, he found Sue Storm smiling. Her eyes closed. She had kicked off the sheets, and her nightgown was drawn up to her stomach, legs spread lewdly, but not in invitation. He noticed, with a worried frown, that there was a soft schlick-schlick as something invisible slid in and out of her pussy.

He had never seen his wife like that before. Yet what truly upset him was the name that Sue whispered. The name of the masseuse she had been seeing after her therapy appointments.

"Nairobi," Malice whispered in her sleep.

Something about the way she said it, the tenderness and need, made Reed Richard's own night sleepless. He could not remember Sue Storm ever saying his name like that.