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Auto Erotic Humiliation (1 3)


10 more steps to go, she thought. Maybe I didn't need to talk to
Mulder that badly...

Agent Dana Scully, Federal
Bureau of Investigation, currently assigned to the X-Files
division, halted at the top of a narrow stairway and took a deep
breath before setting off down the hallway. I hope he didn't
decide to turn in early tonight, I want to get our reports ready
before tomorrow.

She knocked twice and called
out, "Mulder! It's me." Almost immediately a scream
came from within the apartment. Scully started, surprised, and
began pulling at the doorknob. "Mulder!" she yelled.
Abruptly the door flew open, knocking her off-balance just enough
for a frantic blonde woman wrapped in a trenchcoat to push past
her and down the stairs. Scully pulled her gun and moved quickly
into the apartment.

"Mulder? Where are
you?" Gun at the ready, she moved from corner to corner
rapidly searching the rooms until she burst into Mulder's bedroom
and nearly screamed herself. His bed was in disarray but Mulder
himself was in the middle of the room, nude, handcuffed and
apparently unconscious, held up only by a necktie attached to the
ceiling fan. "Mulder!" she cried as she shoved her gun
in its holster and ran to her partner's side.

He wasn't breathing.

Horrified, Scully began
desperately searching for something, anything sharp and grabbed a
letter opener on his desk. She slashed the necktie and barely
managed to catch him before he collapsed to the ground. Scully
straightened him out and began artificial respiration, trying to
see any other possible injuries while blowing life-giving breath
into his mouth. No obvious bruises, no visible bleeding. A small
part of her mind noticed some results of his condition and
marveled at how the human body fights to reproduce itself even at
the point of death.

After a few timeless moments
Mulder began to stir and breath on his own. Scully rose
immediately and observed him carefully as he coughed and fought
to draw in air. She let him settle down after she was certain he
would continue breathing and performed some quick reflex checks
before talking to him. "Mulder? It's Dana, can you hear me?
Just nod if you can." Mulder nodded and began struggling.
"Oh, right, hold still for a minute," she said, and she
jumped up to find the handcuff keys. Fortunately they were on the
bedside table and Mulder was soon lying still underneath a
blanket, breathing deeply. Scully looked at him for a second,
considering her words, before speaking.

"Mulder, I'd like to call
an ambulance and get you to a doctor, but I need to ask, was this
a suicide attempt?" Mulder shook his head violently no, then
winced and held his head in his hands like a basketball and
groaned. "Was it torture? Was... oh my God, that woman who
ran by me!" Scully leapt to her feet and began to run for
the door when Mulder's voice stopped her.

"Scully," he rasped.
"Let her go, it's not her fault. Oh, my head." He sat
up and she stooped to help him, confused beyond reason. As he sat
there, groaning softly, she started putting hints together and
looked at him with new eyes. "Mulder, what the hell were you
doing?"

He struggled to get up and
after realizing he meant it, she helped him stand. He steadied
himself by holding on the bedpost, then looked at her. "No
hospitals, Scully. And I'd really rather not go into it right
now." He took a few staggering steps towards the bathroom
before turning back slightly. "Thanks." He disappeared
into the bathroom.


Scully stared at the bathroom
door for a few seconds in open-mouthed amazement before turning
away and thinking furiously. Sure, fine, whatever. She looked
around the room searching for anything that could shed some light
on this new and unsettling aspect to her partner. What the hell
did I just walk in on here? Dirty magazines are one thing, but...

Sheets and Mulder's clothes scattered about, the remains of the
silk tie a bright spot in the middle of the floor, two empty
glasses on the nightstand next to a half a bottle of whiskey,
obviously the setting of an abbreviated romance. Scully suddenly
felt extremely out-of-place. Keeping herself firmly in the
"agent" mode, she looked a bit more carefully. One of
the glasses had lipstick on the rim, most likely
"hers". Or maybe I shouldn't make assumptions
anymore... she thought to herself. She sniffed it; whiskey. On a
hunch she checked the other glass and caught a whiff of something
decidedly non-alcoholic. Nothing else in the room looked likely
so she tried under the bed. Bingo! Looks like Blondie's purse
spilled. A lipstick, an envelope and a small empty vial. Scully
opened the vial, carefully brought it to her nose and immediately
recognized the distinctive odor of chloral hydrate.

******

Mulder emerged from the
bathroom to find Scully sitting on his bed waiting for him.
"Um, Scully, I'm okay. I'd just like to get some rest."
His voice was a bit thick, but at least he was breathing
normally.

"She tried to kill you,
Mulder."

"It's not like that, it
was just an experiment." He pulled his robe a little tighter
and thudded heavily on the bed next to her.

"Whose experiment?"

He sat quietly for a few
moments. "It seemed to be a good idea at the time," he
said finally.

Scully held up the vial.
"I'm sure it did. Chloral hydrate makes a terrible
chaser."

"What?" He reached
for the vial but she pushed his hand back easily.

"I think you've had
enough, Mulder. You didn't know this was in your drink?" He
shook his head. She took a deep breath. "I think maybe you'd
better tell me what happened."

Mulder sat still for a long
time, arms on his knees, head hanging down. She looked away to
give him a little time. Finally he shuddered. "She came over
and we had dinner. We came back here and talked for awhile. We
had a few drinks and started sharing... stories."

"Stories?" One
eyebrow arched into her hairline.

"All right, fantasies. She
told me hers, I mentioned a few of mine, don't you do this on
your dates, Scully?"

Scully, momentarily distracted
by speculation on Mulder's "stories", was caught off
guard. "What? Yes. No! All due respect, Mulder, my fantasies
don't generally require life-saving measures."

Mulder smiled ruefully.
"Neither do mine, usually. I mean, I don't think they
do."

"Who's idea was the... um,
necktie?"

"It was all we could
find."

"Mulder..."

He rubbed his hand over his
face. "I honestly couldn't tell you. We were talking, and
she was getting, you know, interested, and... I really don't
know." He sat up straighter, a look of concern on his face.
"Scully, I really don't know."

"You were drugged, you
weren't in control of your actions. What was she doing while you
were, you know, up there?"

Good Lord, he was blushing.
"Well, she said I needed something to watch, so..."

"Never mind. That's all I
needed to know. Mulder, you need to see a doctor."

"You are a doctor. And you
have definitely seen me." Pause. "Are you blushing,
Scully?"

"No. We need to get you to
a hospital and get you checked out, there could be permanent
damage." She stood up and turned back to help him.

He laid back on the bed and
began pulling blankets over himself. "I'm all right, I'll be
fine. I just need some sleep."

Scully hesitated, then said,
"Okay. I'll be in the next room if you need me." She
walked to the door and paused, then turned back. "Um,
Mulder?"

A sleepy voice.
"Yeah?"

"We have to report this,
you know."

continued in Part Two


End of Story