Tyler Rivers was a walking contradiction—an 18-year-old with the body of a linebacker, the mind of a nervous teenager, and the baggage of a lab experiment gone wrong. A.I.M. had meddled with his DNA, splicing in traces of Hulk genetics, leaving him with a temper that could turn him green and a libido that sometimes had a mind of its own. Today, though, his mission was mundane: grocery shopping. With Emma Frost’s sleek, black credit card burning a hole in his pocket, he pushed a wobbly cart through the fluorescent-lit aisles of a suburban grocery store, his broad shoulders hunched as if he could make himself invisible.
“Protein shakes, protein shakes,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the shelves. His cart was already a chaotic mess of frozen dinners, bags of chips, and enough energy drinks to fuel a small army. The safe house—where he and a cadre of the fiercest women in the superhero world were laying low—needed supplies, and somehow, he’d been volunteered as errand boy. He grabbed a dozen jugs of chocolate-flavored protein powder, nearly toppling a display of canned soup in the process. A middle-aged woman in yoga pants shot him a curious glance, her eyes lingering on his biceps a little too long.
“Need a hand, sweetheart?” she asked, her tone teasing as she adjusted her ponytail.
Tyler’s face flushed. “Uh, no, I’m good. Just… stocking up for a, uh, fitness thing.” He fumbled, nearly dropping a jug. Smooth, Rivers. Real smooth.
She smirked, pushing her cart past him. “Well, don’t hurt yourself, big guy. Looks like you’ve got enough muscle to carry the whole store.”
He groaned internally, steering his cart toward the checkout. The weight of the safe house dynamic was heavier than any protein jug. These women—Emma Frost, Rogue, Domino, Storm, Psylocke, Black Widow, Captain Marvel, Spider-Woman, and Susan Storm—were legends, each one a force of nature. They’d taken him in after his latest escape from A.I.M., but living in a single-room hideout with a massive bed and nine alpha females was… complicated. He was drowning in estrogen and authority, and part of him craved something deeper—a family, a connection. The other part? Well, that part was a hormonal mess with a green tint.
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Back at the safe house, a nondescript ranch-style home in a quiet suburban neighborhood, Tyler hauled in the grocery bags, sweat beading on his forehead. The single room was a paradox of chaos and order—weapons stashed in corners, tech gadgets on a cluttered table, and a king-sized bed that dominated the space, a necessity for their rotating sleep shifts. The air was thick with the scent of leather, gun oil, and the faint floral of someone’s perfume. Nine pairs of eyes turned to him as he kicked the door shut with his heel.
“Well, well, the prodigal son returns,” Emma Frost drawled from her perch on a chair, legs crossed, her white corset and cape somehow pristine despite the cramped quarters. Her icy blue eyes dissected him like a specimen. “Did you manage to buy out the entire store, or just the junk food aisle?”
Tyler dropped the bags on the counter, scratching the back of his neck. “Got everything on the list. Plus some extras. Y’know, protein shakes for me. Gotta keep the, uh, gains up.” He flexed awkwardly, immediately regretting it as Rogue snorted from her spot on the bed, a paperback in hand.
“Darlin’, you keep flexin’ like that, you’re gonna pop a vein before you pop a muscle,” Rogue teased, her Southern drawl dripping with amusement. Her green-and-yellow bodysuit hugged every curve, and she didn’t bother hiding her smirk.
Domino, lounging against the wall with a knife twirling in her fingers, chimed in. “Or something else. Kid, you’re a walking disaster. Lucky for you, I like a mess.” Her black-and-white eye patch gleamed under the dim light as she winked.
Tyler’s cheeks burned, but he squared his shoulders, deciding to dive into the deep end. “Speaking of luck… I’ve been thinking. You all—y’know, you’ve been looking out for me. More than I deserve. I was wondering if… maybe… you’d be like my family. My… moms?” The word felt ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but there it was, hanging in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled.
A beat of silence. Then Storm, regal even in tactical gear, arched a perfect eyebrow, her voice a low rumble of thunder. “Mothers, Tyler? That’s a bold request. Do you think we’re here to tuck you in at night?”
“Or change your diapers?” Black Widow added, her Russian accent sharp as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her red hair a fiery cascade. “Because I don’t do baby duty.”
Captain Marvel, arms crossed and hovering an inch off the ground, let out a bark of laughter. “Kid, you’ve got guts. I’ll give you that. But ‘mom’? I’m more likely to bench-press you than bake you cookies.”
Susan Storm, ever the diplomat, softened the blow with a gentle smile, though her eyes held a steely edge. “Tyler, we’re here to protect you, guide you. Family? That’s a bond we can build. But ‘moms’ might be… a stretch.”
Psylocke, sharpening a katana with deadly precision, didn’t even look up. “Speak for yourself, Sue. I’m not above adopting a stray. As long as he doesn’t chew the furniture.”
Spider-Woman, perched on the ceiling, grinned down at him. “I’m in if I get to web you up when you misbehave. Deal?”
Emma Frost stood, her heels clicking on the hardwood as she approached Tyler, her presence suffocating. “Oh, darling, we’ll play your little game. Surrogate mothers it is. But let’s be clear—I don’t coddle. Step out of line, and I’ll have you on your knees begging for mercy. Understood?”
Tyler nodded, a grin tugging at his lips despite the warning. “Understood, Emma. Thanks… all of you.” Emboldened by their acceptance, he took a risk, stepping closer to Emma and Susan, who were nearest. In a moment of reckless affection—or sheer stupidity—he let his hands drift, resting one on Emma’s backside and the other on Susan’s, a playful pat meant as a joke.
The room froze. Emma’s eyes narrowed to slits, her telepathic presence brushing against his mind like a cold blade. “Tyler Rivers,” she hissed, her voice a venomous purr, “did you just touch my ass, or are you simply begging for a lesson in manners?”
Susan, less amused, stepped back, her force field flickering briefly around her. “Hands off, kid. I’m flattered, but I’m not your playground. Try that again, and you’ll be invisible—permanently.”
Tyler yanked his hands back, palms up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean— I was just— damn it, I’m an idiot.” Frustration clawed at him, his pulse racing. He felt the familiar heat under his skin, the tinge of green creeping up his arms as his muscles swelled slightly. Worse, the uncontrollable side effect of his Hulk DNA reared its humiliating head—a spontaneous release that left him mortified as he turned away, trying to hide the evidence.
Rogue let out a low whistle. “Well, sugar, that’s one way to make an impression.”
Domino cackled, twirling her knife faster. “Kid, you’re a walking hazard. I’m almost impressed.”
Emma, however, wasn’t laughing. She stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Oh, Tyler, you poor, pathetic beast. Look at you, turning green and making a mess of yourself. What are we going to do with you?” Her tone dripped with mockery, but there was a glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Control yourself, or I’ll control you. And trust me, darling, you won’t like my methods.”
Storm’s voice cut through, calm but commanding. “Emma, ease up. He’s still learning. But Tyler, you need to rein it in. Now.”
Captain Marvel hovered closer, her photon energy crackling faintly. “Yeah, kid. Green’s not a good look on you. Breathe. We’ve got your back—unless you keep groping it.”
Tyler clenched his fists, the green fading slowly as he fought for control, his jaw tight with embarrassment. “I’m trying. I just… I mess up. Every damn time.”
Emma sighed dramatically, grabbing him by the ear with a grip like iron. “Enough of this pity party. You and I are going to have a little chat, darling. Privately.” She tugged him toward the corner of the room that served as their makeshift bedroom area, her heels clicking with purpose. The other women watched, some smirking, others exchanging wary glances, as if waiting to see if the beast would break free—or if Emma would break him first.
Tyler stumbled after her, his heart pounding, unsure if he was in for a scolding, a lesson, or something far more dangerous. The tension hung thick, a promise of chaos just out of reach.
And as Emma’s grip tightened, the room held its breath.
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