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Ah, the traditional all-male shower after a group activity. This is my first such, here at the Institute, and I'm being whispered about. I wash my tail and wait for the inevitable. Right now, I don't have to be Jean to know what they're thinking, and soon enough the apparent ringleader asks the question.
"So, Brandolf, what's it like to have a tail?"
I rinse the suds from my favorite appendage and turn around. "Have you ever seen those Japanese cartoons where the monster has tentacles that he uses to-" Rude gesture. The assembled males break into a collection of smirks, snickering, and the occasional overly-enthusiastic 'OH yeah!'. I smirk back. "It's like that, only-" I snake my tail up between my legs and thrust my hips forward. "-*I* can whip it out in front of the girls without them screaming at me."
The guys chuckle and nod appreciatively.
"Is it that sensitive all over?" A random question from the crowd.
"Only at the tip," I sigh, and start drying off. "And not like that unless the 'man downstairs' is also feeling the love. Ah, but when I shake hands with myself...!"
A few of the guys nod and go about their business, thinking about the benefits of a tail like mine. Ah, tail envy! It strikes the best of men. One, however, gives me a glare that does not just *look* frosty. I'm guessing this is Bobby.
"Hey Brandolf!" He gives me a challenging look. "You better not touch my girl with your tail!"
"You mean Rogue?" I laugh. "Believe me, she is a nice girl, but I would be a happy mutant if I went my entire life without her touching me. You're welcome to whatever you can manage with her." I give him a mocking salute with my tail, gather my things, and jump out to the changing room.