Title - Misled by Spin
Rating - NC17 - sex scenes
Classification - X (kind of), H (of the warped kind), R (ish)

Spirits are on the move. Mulder and Scully go out to investigate 
a case close to the FBI Director's heart. The author's evil twin 
seizes the key board and things take a turn for the gratuitously 
erotic.

Rated NC17 for sex of some kind.
Safe for most models of shipper, also non toxic to certain 
brands of noromo...

Dedicated to Jenny, who has been hassling me to write a piece of 
uncomplicated filth for her as a Christmas present. Merry 
Christmas.

Joann's Evil Twin - jhumby@iee.org

---------------

Legally:
Sadly the main characters in here don't belong to me.
I have accepted, albeit reluctantly, that Fox, 1013, CC
own them and that DD, GA and a couple of XF writers
gave them life. In any case the ones on the show can't
get away with this stuff.

I'm happy for this story to be distributed 
uncommercially, intact and with my name still
attached.

========

Part 1/2


Dana Scully reread the autopsy report. Not that she expected to 
find anything new, not that she actually knew what she was 
looking for. She did know that she was not amused. Whoever 
thought it was appropriate to assign the review to her, had 
another think coming.

Dana Scully didn't bother to look up as she heard her partner's 
voice say hello from the doorway.

"Mulder. I assume these cattle mutilations are something to do 
with you?"

She looked up when she heard the grunt of amusement that came 
back from Mulder and the matching yelps of laughter from the 
other two men.

Mulder shrugged lightly. "You know, Agent Scully there are times 
when I wonder about the sort of gossip you listen to." He paused 
and waved a hand. "Special Agent Nick Parker." He waved the 
other hand. "And Special Agent Mark Roberts. If you want to pin 
the cattle mutilations on anyone,  I suggest you start with 
them. They sent you the file."

It took a few seconds for Scully to run through her options. 
Laugh, blush, move on. She opted to move on. "Since when has the 
Bureau investigated cattle mutilations?"

Mulder stepped sideways to allow Nick Parker to get the full 
effect of a head on Scully stare. Parker suddenly felt the need 
to stand to attention. "Err, well it's the latest victim. And 
the message, the letter that got sent."

"The latest victim?" Scully's eyebrow arched. "Daisy the dairy 
cow?"

Mulder took pity on Parker and handled the reply himself. 
"Daisy's owner is the Director of the FBI. He, or rather his 
family, have a farm in Virginia."

"The Director." Scully groaned. "And someone told him I'm the 
Bureau's resident livestock specialist?"

Mulder waved innocently at Parker and Roberts, with that one 
gesture absolving himself and nailing them. Then spoiling the 
whole effect by following up with the rhythmic beat of, 
"besides. Who you gonna call?"

Scully sighed then relented, a soft gleam in her eyes. "Cattle 
mutilation? Tell me there's something more to it. What was that 
about a letter? What did it say?"

"That the next corpse we'd be seeing neatly dissected and 
presented would be human. It claims that the animals have been 
experiments for the big one."

Scully could guess where this was heading. "The big one?"

"Apparently our man has been developing a method to transfer an 
animal's life force from one body to another."

"Life force?"

Mulder's voice became softly persuasive. "I chose the term 'life 
force' rather than soul because many religious and other groups 
deny the existence of souls, particularly in relation to 
animals. And a reference to personality could imply an 
unacceptable degree on anthropomorphism."

"Politically correct as ever." Scully closed her eyes for an 
instant and her hand moved briefly to cover her mouth before she 
spoke. "Well, I found the heart, lungs and kidneys, but I didn't 
spot a soul on the autopsy report."

"So the transfer obviously worked."

Parker laughed, Roberts groaned theatrically. 

A quick warning glare from Scully to her partner, she shook her 
head. "Why would this person write us a warning note?"

Parker took up the explanation. "She's the next soul donor. She 
didn't like the idea of dying to test the theory."

"Ok, I see the threat. But every psychopath in the land will 
tell you about their mystical powers. Why do you need us on the 
case?"

Mulder handed her the file of photographs. "The cow's soul was 
transferred to this racehorse. A prize stallion. It's a very 
expensive problem."

"Mulder." The tone was more than an exclamation, more than a 
question. It was a plea. Dana Scully was starting to visualize 
the assignment in its full Technicolor horror. She was going to 
write a report for the Director of the FBI on why his horse had 
decided to become a cow.

"The horse won't run. He's taken to regurgitating and rechewing 
his food. He follows the cows to the milking stalls." 

"Don't tell me they have to pretend to milk him?" Scully almost 
groaned when she heard the opportunity for innuendo present in 
her words. "No. Don't tell me. Have there been any other 
incidents?"

Mulder smirked briefly but otherwise discreetly ignored his 
partner's slip up. "The duck was transferred to the cat. With 
obvious unfortunate results."

"No." She raised an eyebrow. "You don't mean..."

Parker leapt back in. "Yes, off a bridge into twelve foot of 
water. And there have been others. The dog transferred to the 
parrot. The..."

Scully waved her arm. "Enough. So, who is the woman who wrote 
the letter?"

Mulder started to read the file headlines. "Jane Durham. 23. A 
Biochemist by training. Her beloved, Daniel Grant, a student 
Veterinary surgeon has come up with the perfect crime. He's 
going to transfer Jane's soul into the body of Caroline 
Hatherton, a millionairess."

"And he hopes that Jane will invite him to share her new found 
wealth?"

"Absolutely."

"That's insane."

"I didn't say he was sane." Mulder paused and took a deep 
breath, a slight smile playing at the edge of his lips. "In the 
early cases an animal died. In these later ones, with the 
exception of the cat who wanted to play with the catfish, the 
animals all survived. I believe the dissection jobs on the cows 
were just him trying to find the soul. Now he's found it, his 
methods are less invasive."

Scully shook her head. "How long ago did Jane Durham write the 
note?"

"A month ago. While he was still perfecting his methods." Mulder 
waved his hand in the general direction of the other two Agents 
who stood mutely by the door. "Parker and Roberts spoke to her 
yesterday. She said she wrote it when she was drunk. And that 
everything's just dandy, now." 

--------

The grounds of Caroline Hatherton's "farm" had as little in 
common with agricultural production as Dana Scully's favorite 
Shakes had in common with milk. Grass so green and cut so tight 
it had to have been done with manicure scissors. A dazzling 
white gravel drive that could only look that way because it was 
swept again every time someone used it. White post and rail 
fences that looked like they'd been freshly dipped in cake 
icing. Caroline Hatherton was not just a mere millionairess, 
there was heavy money at work here.

Jane Durham and Daniel Grant were certainly going for the big 
one.

Dana Scully had reread the file as they drove. Unfortunately the 
file had still stubbornly told her that she was here because 
this woman's dog and parrot had swapped personalities. She tried 
not to look annoyed with Mulder.

"This is ludicrous, Mulder. Federal Agents following up a parrot 
and dog swap. Even if it happened, it wouldn't be a crime. And 
it didn't happen. Why are we here?"

"Because Caroline is an old friend of the Director. Her trainer 
trains the Director's racehorses. And because if someone's got a 
way to move souls between bodies we've got to stop them. After 
the event, proving this MO in court will be real trouble.

She half smiled, "I think that's an understatement. But, even 
when the parrot starts barking I don't see what we charge them 
with."

"Impersonating a canine?"

Dana Scully took a deep breath and got out of the car.

The maid escorted the Agents across the marble hall into the 
lush carpeting of the dining room. 

A large labrador was sitting uncomfortably on the back of an 
armchair apparently clinging onto his perch by a massive feat of 
balance and the strained efforts of all four paws.

Mulder started to open his mouth but was stopped by a glare from 
Scully.

Caroline Hatherton's arrival in the room came as a relief, to 
all its occupants. The labrador immediately launched itself from 
its place on the chair back, confidently anticipating a quick 
safe landing on Caroline's shoulder. Instead the dog crashed to 
the ground, looking up at the human occupants, apparently both 
disappointed and confused by this latest blow to its ego. 
Caroline Hatherton shook her head resignedly.

When Mulder turned to Scully he was wide eyed and smiling 
nervously. Scully simply shook her head before pointedly turning 
away to look first at the dog then casting exactly the same 
stare of appraisal over Mulder.

Mulder quickly recovered his poise and moved forward, 
introducing himself and Scully to Caroline Hatherton. He then 
looked back at the dog. "How long has he been doing that kind of 
thing?"

"Two weeks. Ever since the parrot started barking, chasing the 
cat and walking everywhere."

Mulder smiled innocently and lightly waved a hand. "Please. Tell 
me." 

Caroline Hatherton offered a matching smile and pointed towards 
the two most comfortable looking chairs. Mulder followed her 
across the room and waited until Hatherton had sat down before 
joining her. He leant back and smiled again, making careful eye 
contact with the woman, before relaxing the smile into a look of 
gentle but intent concentration. Listening without demanding.

Dana Scully studied the comfortably domestic scene for an 
instant, before turning and sucking in a deep breath, then 
turning back to face the householder. "Miss Hatherton, I hope 
you'll excuse me, it would be helpful if I could interview some 
of your staff while you talk to Agent Mulder."

"Whatever you need to, Miss..."

Mulder broke in carefully, with seductively softly spoken words, 
"Agent Scully."

"Of course." Caroline nodded appreciatively towards Mulder and 
smiled. "Agent Scully."

Dana Scully, duly dismissed, left quickly. She resisted the 
sudden impulse to place two fingers in her mouth and gag. Mulder 
could be such an obvious creep at times.

------

They met back in the driveway. 

Mulder grinned. "So. Did you talk to the animals?"

Scully frowned her reply. "I met the barking parrot if that's 
what you meant. I also spoke to the maid, the butler, the estate 
manager, the horse trainer, the stable cleaner, the gardener, 
the cook, the kitchen maid, the sous chef, the commis chef, the 
other maid, the other other maid and some other staff members 
whose job titles were more obscure. Did you finish your little 
chat with the heiress?"

"For now." 

Scully scowled, he was dead. "So, do you have any theories?"

"Not really. It looks like the victims really do swap 
lifeforces. A complete change of personality and behavior."

"Mulder." She rolled her eyes. "You'd have to do a brain swap to 
get this kind of result."

"So, have you got a theory?

"Yep."

Mulder turned to her, looking vaguely startled.

Scully decided to ignore her resentment that he was apparently 
so surprised that she had an idea. "Hypnosis. I've read of vets 
using it during treatment to calm animals. It also seems to be a 
factor in certain kinds of animal training and management. It's 
extraordinarily well developed in this case. So, first guess, we 
may be looking at drugs used to enhance the effect."

Mulder nodded his head. "Hmm. Good one."

They quickly planned their next moves and called Parker with 
their latest theories. Parker would arrange for blood tests of 
the parrot, dog and horse. Mulder and Scully would go and visit 
Jane Durham and Daniel Grant.

The suspects' apartment was empty, so the Agents settled down to 
an evening of surveillance. Evening drifted into night. 
Wakefulness drifted into boredom, drifted into tiredness, into 
sleepiness. First Scully would go to sleep, then Mulder. 
Responsibility cycling between the twosome until it was time to 
act again.

The first clue that the pattern of one asleep and one awake 
wasn't working was when the Agents realized that they were 
waking up simultaneously. If they were both awake now, then who? 
Oh.

Mulder shrugged apologetically, flinching slightly as he spotted 
that the movement seemed a little strange. When had he moved to 
the passenger seat? He looked down quickly and saw the pale 
burgundy trouser suit. He didn't own a burgundy suit, he 
certainly didn't own anything in this shade of. What? Plum? It 
was the hands that were the give away. Neat little Scully hands.

If he had Scully's hands then where were his?

Dana Scully stretched and was surprised as her knee bumped into 
the steering wheel and her fist collided with the roof. What? 
She'd been sat in the passenger seat and Mulder had been sat 
behind the wheel. She opened her eyes and saw an absolutely 
baffled Dana Scully staring at her from the passenger seat.

She closed her eyes, she was obviously still asleep. Another few 
minutes and she would wake up.

Dana Scully's voice intervened. At least it might have been 
Scully's voice if it wasn't for that cautious, slightly edgy, 
nasal intonation it seemed to have developed. "Are you feeling 
ok?"

Scully thought about it. Not a difficult question, not even a 
difficult answer and the answer was definitely no. Think 
rationally, she mumbled to herself, a little alarmed by the deep 
voice that seemed to be echoing her thoughts.

Logic. Someone had drugged them and hypnotized them. She was 
Mulder, Mulder's body. Mulder's voice. She was just a little 
confused. Mulder was just a little confused, she corrected 
quickly. I'm just a little confused, she said decisively to 
herself. Himself. 

Her confidence was dented when her own voice, albeit her own 
voice sounding rather badly abused, spoke again. "I know how 
this will sound, but I think you're Scully. Can you assure me 
that you aren't?"

Dana Scully was not the sort to cry, but right now. Three 
possibilities. She was still asleep. Or Mulder had gone insane 
and she wasn't Dana Scully, instead she was some kind of MPD 
alternate that Mulder had developed. Or she was about to make 
another appearance in the annals of the X-Files.

"Do I have to answer?" She froze. It had sounded almost as if 
Mulder's voice had given her reply. Damn.

------

Dana Scully was still not completely satisfied that she was 
awake.

Mulder had somehow managed to convince her just to work through 
it. Just go along to the local FBI office, pull off some records 
they needed and try and crack the case. The sooner the better. 
Just play along, until they could sort it out.

As they walked into the local Bureau office everything seemed to 
make sense except for the fact that the Agents who knew them 
there insisted on calling her, Mulder. 

She had to go to the bathroom, she'd tried putting it off until 
they got to a hotel and she had her own room but she was running 
out of time. Mulder studied her. "What's up? You look restless."

"I need to go." She said edgily.

"Aah. Then you'd better do something about it, that's an 
expensive suit."

The sudden rush of blood to her head was part fury but mostly 
embarrassment. How dare he. She strode quickly to the door. 

Mulder jumped to her side. Which wasn't easy, because with his 
suddenly little legs, his usual lazy stride really stood no 
chance against Scully's fast steps, particularly now they were 
enhanced by this height advantage. Nor were the high heels 
helping. Pure willpower got him to her side. "Remember. Use the 
men's room." He said in a quick whisper.

Scully groaned.

She decided to play along. Tentatively pushing open the door and 
looking around the room. The cubicles were on the far side, 
typical. She almost ran past the men standing facing the wall. 

She hauled the door quickly closed behind her, breathing heavily 
as she reached comparative safety. Then she heard a voice. "Hey, 
Mulder. What's up? Seen a ghost?"

Damn. As if she wasn't already self conscious enough. 
Fortunately there were no follow up remarks. She returned her 
attention to her more personal problems. It wasn't that she 
didn't know what had to be done. She was a Doctor. She was a 
sister. She was a babysitter. She'd had lovers. Her life was not 
that sheltered.

But this was not something that life or training had prepared 
her for. She was fighting the urge to put on latex gloves. After 
all, they weren't even her hands. She wondered if it was really 
practical to perform the task with her eyes closed. She would 
try. An idea, she undid the button and zip and pulled down pants 
and boxers, then dropped to the seat. It would have to be done 
like this. It could be done like this, provided she was extra 
careful. Just be careful.

"So Spooky. You laid the redhead yet?"

So much for careful, she thought unhappily.

She left feeling a little less physically uncomfortable, but 
mentally rather worse for wear. Of course it had to be then that 
Agent Joe Corrigan made a surprisingly blatant pass at her. 
Usually they kept that kind of conduct for when Mulder wasn't 
around. Usually one glare from her stopped them in their tracks, 
but not today apparently.



END - Part 1 of 2
==============



=====
Part 2 of 2



They finished the work at the office as quickly as they could 
and headed to the nearest hotel.

"Scully?"

She turned quickly, looking up to the expected source of the not 
quite familiar voice, then quickly adjusting her posture to look 
down on her partner.

"You need a shave." Mulder suggested helpfully.

She absolutely was not going to cry. If she could cope with 
death, near death and horror, she could cope with madness. 
Unless of course she was Mulder, then this over emotional 
reaction was absolutely consistent with her simply being one of 
his multiples.

They headed directly to their connecting bedrooms, meeting in 
Mulder's.

Mulder started the discussion, Scully was finding her voice, 
reinterpreted through his nasal mumble, profoundly annoying. "I 
suggest we finish reading these files that we pulled on Daniel 
Grant, get a decent night's sleep, then tackle it all tomorrow."

"How can you be so calm about this? We've gone insane and you're 
just sitting there like we're still working."

"We've been at work all day. How does that mean we're insane?"

Scully tried to keep her deep voice from distracting her. "That 
man has convinced us to see our bodies as if they are someone 
else's. It's like when a hypnotist convinces someone in the 
audience that he's a chicken."

"Everyone at the office, seemed to see things the same way." 
Mulder answered promptly and tried to resist the temptation to 
play with the swirl of red hair that had spilled over in front 
of his eyes. So that was what red looked like.

"Not quite everyone."

"Huh?"

"Agent Corrigan made a pass at me."

"So?"

"So, he wouldn't make a pass at you."

Mulder shrugged. "Why not? Ok, I'll admit, it's unusual. You 
must have looked more his type than I normally do."

"He's gay?"

"You know, you said that like I'd just told you he was a 
reticulan."

"Oh." She squared her shoulders. "Then we really are insane."

Mulder smirked, thus creating a strange deformation of Scully's 
usually neat features. "Why?"

"I'm Mulder, but I think I'm you. That's insanity."

"Nope. If you were Mulder, you'd think we'd done a body swap, 
like I do."

Scully groaned and pushed herself to her feet. Mulder watched 
her. Tall figure, head held proudly high, shoulders neatly 
squared. Mulder could see how Agent Corrigan had spotted the 
changed man. Scully left quickly to retreat to her own room and 
research hypnotism and hallucinogens.

Mulder couldn't resist the parting shot. "Don't do anything I 
wouldn't do." Some hope, he mumbled under his breath. 

A long night of reading and research had followed, but 
eventually even people who'd sooner not go to bed have to sleep. 
If only because tomorrow could be hard work.

Mulder surveyed the room. They'd done everything they could to 
make the room organization as painless as possible. Scully had 
left him a change of clothes and a shampoo. He'd left her with 
fresh clothes for tomorrow. He still couldn't quite believe that 
she'd actually challenged him on the tie. As if it mattered to 
her what tie he got spotted wearing. He'd also left her his 
shaving kit. The rest of the luggage in the room was his, from 
the now hopelessly oversize running shoes to the slightly grubby 
baseball cap.

Too weird.

He'd spent the day trying to pretend that this was not his 
partner's body. That he was merely a temporary resident of 
another life form, impersonal. Nothing worked. His gun was 
sticking in his back. His feet were aching from those heels. His 
bra had this habit of digging in.

He smelt like Scully. When he looked down he saw Scully's small, 
careful hands. When he hummed, it was her voice that echoed in 
his ears.

The cold shower had not improved the situation. The big bold 
well lit mirror had almost wrecked his control. So he'd turned 
off the lights. The soft brush of soap against his skin had 
threatened his determination. So he'd stopped the lathering 
process and just hoped the water cascades could do the clean up 
job unaided. He'd reveled in the touch of his fingertips as he'd 
massaged shampoo into silky red hair. So he'd rinsed off 
quickly.

Surely no mortal man could be expected to do better? So why was 
the torture continuing. It wasn't fair.

If he touched her, she would kill him. The pernicious little 
voice that had been nibbling at his sanity all day came back to 
taunt him, how would she know? How would she ever find out, 
unless he told her. Which he wouldn't. Unless he was an idiot.

If only he could be sure that if they swapped back, when they 
swapped back, she wouldn't know. Would she? Damn. She might have 
some secret Doctor way of knowing.

Without conscious intervention his hand drifted to the scanty 
cotton that covered the warm soft mound that he sensed contained 
the source of his problems.

Wah. A sudden contraction of muscles, a sudden spasm of need. He 
wanted to pull his hand away from the focus of the heat, but it 
wouldn't oblige. Instead it forced him to linger for long enough 
to feel the moisture building.

Wrong. Wasn't it? If he did something, anything, it would be 
wrong. Right? There wasn't even a word for it. Auto erotic 
hardly seemed to fit. Yet Dana Scully could hardly give informed 
consent and she was the body's rightful occupant. 

Legality was a bit of a redundant concept in this instance. 
After all, how would you ever take a case like this to court? 
Morality was the key to this. Whoever claimed that men's 
thoughts and moral judgments were controlled by their balls was 
wrong. He had conclusive evidence. His balls after all were in 
the other room under the control of Dana Scully. Fuck.

Fortunately a little voice of reason that would be forever Dana 
Scully, even though today it had sounded like a rather stubborn 
version of Fox Mulder, arrived in his memory. Either he was 
hallucinating this body, he really was still all Mulder and 
merely thought he looked like Dana. Or he had gone mad, he 
really was Dana Scully and the body was his anyway, his 
delusions no more valid than if he'd decided that he was 
Napoleon.

Thank God for Scully's rational explanations. Guilt free, he let 
questions of morality float off into the ether.

Just a little innocent scientific exploration. Surely, if he was 
Scully he could do this in the interest of scientific 
exploration? Curiosity had been known to kill cats. Wasn't this 
the lowest risk way of making sure the cat never got out of the 
bag? 

He'd always wondered what she looked like under those neatly 
tailored suits. He'd seen her in bra and pants, but that was way 
back. Besides, that had been candlelit and not the entire 
picture. He would get some of these fantasies out of his system. 
Three seconds later he was naked again.

The bathroom, bright lights and bold mirror.

Took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Quickly closed them 
again. It's just a naked woman, just a naked woman, she doesn't 
even know you're looking at her. He turned away and looked out 
into the bedroom, then moved back to the bathroom and locked the 
door, carefully avoiding looking in the mirror until he'd 
settled his nerves. Ok, again.

Wow.

He allowed his eyes to luxuriate in the vision. Very nice 
indeed. Better than nice. The best. Studied the image until his 
breathing stabilized.

Best comb her hair. He dug around in his travel bag and found a 
comb. Did she use a brush? Probably, but she hadn't left it for 
him, so he'd have to make do.

There was something wrong. She was slouching. Oh. He stood up 
straight and neatened the shoulder line. That was more like it.

More like it indeed.

This was madness. Madness or a dream. His hands drifted across 
her body. Carefully inspecting the responses as fingers moved 
gently over her earlobe. Then down, silky drift of fingertips 
along her neck. A hot spot just below her jaw that made him jump 
and feel warm.

Casual butterfly steps over the collarbone, he watched as her 
neck arched to expose more throat. God, he wanted to kiss that 
soft white skin, dip his tongue into the hollow of her throat.

That thought proved too much. If he could do that trick in his 
present physical condition, he'd be able to get a job as a 
circus contortionist. He snorted out a quick laugh and was 
surprised by its unfamiliar melody. He calmed down and got back 
to work. Only his hands were available, so this had to be a hand 
job. A giggly groan of embarrassment. He was obviously mad he 
decided, laughing alone was not normal.

He decided to move the action to the bedroom. Lights on low, he 
checked the locks on all the doors and windows, checked the 
curtains were completely closed. He looked around for props.

There were times when his expensive taste in clothes was 
rewarded, now was one such occasion. The silk tie was just about 
ideal. All in the interest of science, exploration and 
discovery. He'd read the books, watched the videos. He was not a 
novice when it came to live action. For all the flaws in his 
previous relationships with women, sexual disappointment had 
never been a factor in their decline. But, this was different. A 
chance to really feel it. Not just to look and listen. This was 
real up close and personal, virtual reality par excellence.

Female sexual response unmanipulated by the gaze of a camera. 
Reactions unmoderated by the desire not to hurt a lover's 
feelings. Responses seen without the filtering haze of his own 
needs and arousal. Instant feedback on exactly how well he was 
performing. The ultimate sex education.

The silk was like a waterfall on her skin. Soft champagne 
touches on her nipples. Then changing in an instant, not water 
anymore, suddenly her nipples awoke and the brush of silk felt 
like hot demanding licks of flame. Mulder tried to ease off, 
slow down, he pulled the silk away, but the loss of contact 
almost made him whimper. So he forgot to slow down.

He let his hands drift down to study every inch of her body. 
Quietly examining skin texture, muscle tone, bone structure, 
nerve endings. Every touch, another reaction. Seeking out the 
hotspots. So many, so much to remember. Why did he need to 
remember? Would he ever be able to put the knowledge to use. 
Live for now. Behind the knee. Yes and that the area just above 
the wrist on the inside of her arm. Her ears were too sensitive, 
they sang at first touch.

His hands shifted to outline hips and thighs. Smooth solid 
strokes, she leaned into his pressure. Soft spider steps that 
carried his fingers to the inside of her thighs. Her back 
arching to chase the contact. Her breathing growing ragged in 
anticipation.

He slipped his fingers towards the source of heat. Suddenly 
shocked by the humidity as he approached the soft curls. She was 
so wet and so hot. He threw back his head to collapse deep into 
the pillows. Soft experimental touches, avoiding the issue. If 
he was her, he'd be begging by now. Another strangled snort of 
laughter as he recognized the incongruity of his thoughts. 

Another skin texture to learn, he slipped a finger over the 
inner folds, nearly flying off the bed when he identified the 
focus of the need. Backed away to make the pressure more 
indirect.

Whirls of warmth, swirls of pleasure, more need. Now what?

There was something beautiful and graceful about this. It was 
something that Mulder had considered before. Women could bring 
themselves off so elegantly, men were messy and clumsy and 
rather comic looking in comparison. He sighed at that, men and 
women were such different creatures. He basked in the knowledge 
that if he was watching this he would be aroused merely by that 
difference, by her catlike elegance that marked her as woman.

Elegance was about to lose out to a deeper need, an 
inquisitiveness, a longing. He knew that his motivation was 
perhaps sexist. He'd read that penetration was unnecessary, 
maybe even a distraction. Which was ok, but he needed more. This 
body that was singing under his touch was asking for more. 
Wasn't it? Didn't it feel empty?

Who cares. He slipped a finger into the heat. Was shocked by the 
wet resistance he met, like a tightly fitted glove clenching and 
gripping his finger. Alarming, not even his finger. Her finger, 
her much smaller finger. Scarcely any room. How could? He slid 
deeper, rocked it gently in and out, created a soft rhythm of 
strokes.

Felt the tightness yield, suddenly demanding more. He withdrew, 
shivering as he did. He delayed as long as he could bear, just 
circling, teasing at the opening. Felt its need grow, soft and 
giving, slipped two fingers quickly inside. Moved slowly at 
first, then a little faster, careful, then a little less 
careful. Let his other hand fall back to stroke over the 
neglected knot of nerve endings that was by now insistently 
demanding his attention. Thought for an instant he could feel 
himself flying, then suddenly remembered the need to breathe.

Not nearly such an elegant pose now. Frustrating, reaching hand 
over hand. Hunting for the perfect angle. Like patting your head 
with one hand while you painted spirals on your stomach with the 
other. Impossible, infuriating. If only he had longer fingers. 
God, yes, longer fingers, he did have longer fingers, his 
fingers. Where were his fingers when he needed them? When he 
needed them so bad he was going to scream in frustration.

Of course, he recalled, on the videos, things never went so far. 
Pretty, elegant movement and then some good samaritan to the 
rescue. God, yes. The solution to the whole problem. A hand 
keeping these nerve endings jangling. A cock delivering firm, 
unrelenting, pulsating pressure to her demanding warmth.

Or maybe lips just kissing away her frustration, a tongue 
lapping away her hesitation.

His brain filled with images. Of relaxing into the rhythm of 
another body. Maybe of a warm mouth. Maybe of penetration. First 
one, then the other until all thoughts disappeared and only 
sensation remained.

What was he thinking. Who was going to play the good samaritan? 
He was going to pick up a man? Hardly. He had no desire to 
actually get fucked by some man. He wanted this experience all 
for himself. What? 

His brain disappeared into a sea of fantasy and confusion. Yeah. 
His cock, his mouth, his hand. Where were they when he needed 
them, when he needed them so bad he wanted to cry. Wanted to ask 
Scully to bring them back and make this work. 'Here Scully, come 
and fuck yourself.' A chuckle of madness.

Felt it all. The soft heat and wetness of his mouth. The firm 
pulsating pressure of penetration. The rhythm of long fingers 
playing over those jangling nerve endings. One after another, 
pulse after pulse of pleasure.

Aargh.

Felt it arriving like a tidal wave. Toes curled, feet stretched 
flat, back arched, thigh muscles cramping, breathless. Then 
stepping off the diving board and not even looking down, just 
floating for a few seconds. Knowing that when he landed the 
world would seem brighter, softer, more brilliant, more alive.

Fingers less anxious now, easing off. Felt like he was melting. 
Or somehow becoming very thin and flat until he just knew that 
he could blow away in the next breeze. A dreaming and floating. 
Then at last a shudder that chased along his spine. Another and 
another and another all just chasing away, just a sea of waves 
breaking then fading away, until finally everything was still. 
Collapsed into the softness of the bed linen.

It was a few minutes before Mulder regained the power of 
thought. His brain replayed some of his closing thoughts. 'Here 
Scully, come and fuck yourself.' He really was mad. That was the 
only explanation. If it had played out like in his fantasy then 
what would that have meant? Mutual masturbation. He bit the 
pillow to keep from laughing too loud.

He woke up after only a few minutes. He thought he could hear 
himself groaning. Huh. There was a man in Scully's room? Then he 
remembered. Scully. Was she in trouble? He moved to the door, 
grabbing her gun from the nightstand as he went. Noted the 
slightly uncomfortable bruised sensation as he moved. Noted that 
feeling of high humidity, he was still awfully wet.

Woke himself up, got his concentration back. Prepared to bash 
down the adjoining door if necessary. Sighed a little at that, 
it hardly seemed practical, not with these little feet. He heard 
more groans, then a sudden yelp.

"Scully, are you ok?" He quickly called.

A delay, then a fast squeaky "yeah", then he heard gasping and a 
breathless, "I'm fine."

Groans and a yelp and breathless? Mulder grinned and headed back 
to bed.

----------

Scully decided to leave Mulder with the job of finding a bay in 
the crowded parking lot. She walked swiftly up into the area 
office. 

"Mulder." A loud voice that sounded like Nick Parker.

She turned. "He's p...." Stopped. "Hi. Scully's putting the car 
away."

"I thought you said her feet didn't reach the pedals."

Scully cringed. "Do you have some news for us, Agent Parker?"

"Oooh you been getting lessons from Miss Strict again, Mulder?"

Scully glared and stood up very straight, relishing the 
movement, taking great pleasure in the sensation of being taller 
than Parker and making sure he knew it.

"Jeez. What's up, Mulder? PMS?"

Just at that moment Mulder arrived, hobbling slightly 
uncomfortably on his heels. He looked up at Scully and Parker. A 
strange and unpleasant sensation he noted, a sudden deja vu of 
being surrounded by giants on a basketball court. "Nope. Full 
moon." Mulder suggested with a shrug.

Parker looked shocked for a minute then grinned. "You nearly had 
me there, I almost thought you two had swapped bodies as well."

Scully tried again. "Do you have some news for us, Agent 
Parker?" 

Parker laughed. "It's great. You two should be on the stage."

Mulder took over. "Tell us what you know, or I'll let Agent 
Corrigan know your little secret."

Parker squealed with delight. "God. Agent Scully. Mulder always 
claimed you had a sense of humor but..."

Mulder sighed. "Please."

"Yep. Great news in fact. The parrot has stopped barking and is 
now doing whatever parrots do, I dunno, Long John Silver 
impressions or something."

"Monty Python dead person sketches?" Mulder offered helpfully.

Parker grinned again. "Just wait until I tell the guys back at 
the Hoover Building about this. Agent Scully makes jokes."

Scully glared at Mulder, then a hard stare designed to dismember 
Parker.

Parker looked at Scully. "Mulder. You should get an Emmy for 
this."

"Anything else?" Scully said carefully, using her height 
advantage to control the moment.

"Yep. You guys were right on the money with the drugs. We found 
them in all the affected animals. They have both sedative and 
hallucinogenic properties. So, used in conjunction with 
hypnosis, they'd be very effective. Looks like once we get them 
drug free they'll recover. Anyway we've got a vet who knows 
about hypnosis and stuff handling it."

Mulder turned to Scully. "You were right."

Parker chipped back in. "No, Agent Scully, you were right. 
Hypnosis and drugs, you're just being modest. Mulder's theory 
was that the soul's moved." Parker giggled at the taller man.

Mulder nodded sheepishly.

Scully stood unmoved until the now puzzled stare from Parker 
suddenly reminded her that she ought to say something. "Scully's 
so used to me being wrong, she likes to tell me I'm right 
sometimes, just to reassure me."

Mulder glared up at her, then his expression softened to a 
smile.

Parker looked on bemused, shrugged his shoulders and carried on 
talking. "We're ready to issue a warrant on Daniel Grant now. 
Not a lot we can charge him with. But the drugs are home made 
and we should be able to hit him with something on that score."

They made their farewells and headed back to DC. Mulder drove, 
hating how uncomfortably close to the wheel he seemed to be. 
Apparently, in a crash, the air bag could break your nose if you 
were this close to it. Best not crash then, else Scully would be 
really angry with him. Or was it with herself? The sooner these 
drugs wore off the better.

"Where should we go?" He asked nervously. He couldn't really go 
to his apartment, not if he was really Scully. He had things 
there, in cupboards and stuff, that she shouldn't see. 

Scully had obviously been considering the problem and found a 
solution. Her voice was rich and deep, "my place, that is to say 
your place, that is Scully's place. We both stay there until 
this unravels." She paused. "Maybe we should stop off on the way 
though. Are there any things I'm going to need from your place, 
my place?"

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect plan. Trust Scully to 
be the practical one. He just wished that she wouldn't wear such 
gaudy ties.




END 
Aw come on, I did warn you right at the start...
It wasn't that bad was it?

Why are both twins called Joann?
jhumby@iee.org