TITLE: So Cruel: revisited AUTHOR: Katie Harris EMAIL: ktblle@aol.com ARCHIVE: You have a place for fiction like this?! Well, in that case, archive away! RATING: R for language, MulderTorture, and use of phrases like "pulsing lovehandle" SPOILERS: definitely for "So Cruel" and that had spoilers up till How The Ghost Stole Christmas, so I guess everything's fair game. KEYWORD: V, H SUMMARY: The *cruelest* revenge- Badfic DISCLAIMER: This was inspired by the very talented Isahunter and her story "So Cruel" (NC-17). It's a very erotic story with a new twist on an old tale, and I highly recommend it! You can EMAIL her at Isahunter@aol.com to request a copy! It is with her permission I bring you my first "badfic". This is all in jest. Do not flame me, telling me how great Isahunter (or her work) is. This I already believe to be true. She gave me great work to expand on Oh, yeah! The characters are CC's! Thanks to Nek once again for her help! For all the men who offered to help Isahunter with her love scenes ****************** So Cruel: revisited "I can't find that phooey file, Scully!" Mulder whined as he leaned back in his elegant desk chair. Mulder had inherited a lot of money several years ago from his great aunt Martha Mahoney Mulder. He didn't like great Aunt Martha much, but she *did* believe she had evolved from an alien race. You had to take your allies where you could find them, Mulder mused. He'd bought this desk chair with that money that he had inherited. He'd also bought a new car, not that he ever got to drive his own car. He usually had to drive the standard issue '95 Ford Taurus's the FBI insisted it's employees drive. He had bought some underwear too. Seems he'd lost a bunch of pairs of jockeys when he'd moved back to the States. He didn't believe aliens had taken them though. No sir. What would little gray men from Reticula want with his BVDs? But that wasn't the point. The point was he couldn't find the file that was imperative to solving a recent case, as only an old X-File could be. (Imperative, that is...not recent. Well, recent, too, but an X-File really didn't *have* to be recent. It could be old as mold in the back of his refrigerator (assuming he has a refrigerator...he thought it might be next to his bed), but if Mulder got a whiff of a scent about a case, (kind of like getting a whiff of the rotting food in the back of the refrigerator he was not sure if he had), well then, it was as good as the next X-File on his desk, which he couldn't find right now. (The file, not the desk...he was giving himself a headache))))))). He smiled apologetically at Scully, his big brown eyes, which sometimes were green and other times blue, looked just like a puppy dog's. A Dandy Dinmont Terrier, Scully thought. His desk was a disaster area, Scully noted with a wrinkled nose. Tornado city. I think we're in Kansas, Toto. Scully had never been to Kansas, that she could remember, anyway. She'd been to Oklahoma a few times. Flat land. Scully liked mountains. Mountains with snow is what Scully liked. Scully did not like flat land. Flat land reminded Scully of when she was in high school and had no chest. She'd hated high school. Because of her "flat land" Scully had never had a date in high school. She'd never had a dog named Toto either. She'd had a dog named Queequeg once. Who names a dog Queequeg? Scully did. She was Starbuck and her deceased father was Ahab. It only made sense to name her dog Queequeg. Besides, Ishmael was way over used in fanfiction. Her father, Ahab, had read to her from Moby Dick. No one knew why. Small children couldn't understand Herman Melville. She much preferred Dr. Seuss. He was her inspiration for becoming a doctor. Most people thought it was because her father, Ahab, had forced her to become one. She supposed it didn't matter since he'd gotten eaten up by an alligator. Queequeg, that is, not Ahab, her father. Poor Queequeg, she shook her head in remorseful repentance. She looked back at Mulder's desk. It really is a terribly messy desk she thought. She might come in here and clean it sometime when she was supposed to feed his fish, when he was off on one of his wild alien hunts. Okay, the next time she *remembered* to feed his fish. The last few times she'd forgotten. It sure was a good thing she once dated a guy who now worked at Fish World. Mulder never even noticed the replaced fish swimming rapidly around the tank. She was digressing, but not for the first time that day. "Mulder? Why don't you just leave the files at work? It's not like you ever take a break from your paramasturbatory illusions at night to get some real work done anyway." She politely pointed out only to be met with his pitiful pout. "Scccuuuullly! You prooommmisssed!" Were those tears in his eyes right then when he was whining like a two year old wanting a fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookie? Must have been the light shining off of his still poutingly plentiful lips. "You're correct, Mulder. I did promise to never bring up your paramasturbatory illusions again. I'm sorry I broke my promise. It was very uncharacteristic of me, wasn't it? That's more your style, like when you ditch me to run around town like a chicken with his head chopped off." Not that Scully had ever seen a chicken with his head cut off. But she'd heard stories. Scully's great uncle Samuel Scully had a chicken farm and he always told her about the chickens with their heads cut off when he called her on her birthdays. Scully didn't really like Great Uncle Samuel (any more than Mulder liked his Great Aunt Martha. But neither one of them knew this, because they never talked about anything personal. It was an unspoken rule, that not speaking about things. It might not be an unspoken rule, if they even talked about it, but if they ever talked about it, then it wouldn't be unspoken, would it?). Besides, she wasn't real fond of chicken after that one case a few years ago. She liked shrimp a lot, though. She liked shrimp soup. She liked shrimp gumbo. She also liked shrimp souffles, shrimp pancakes, shrimp pasta, shrimp sandwiches, boiled shrimp, steamed shrimp, shrimp with sauce, shrimp with ketchup. . . She could eat shrimp any time, any place. "Let me make it up to you Mulder." His eyes loomed leering and large in the light luminescence coming from the overhead lamp. She swatted him in the chest like all women do at men who are making lecherous comments in their presence, and then turned him around so he was looking at his desk. "Look at your desk," she commanded. She began a massage so thrilling on his upper-back anatomy that he was writhing in his chair under her massaging ministrations. It was a good thing she was a medical doctor, and knew all the right spots to massage. Even though she only practiced forensic stuff, Scully knew everything about every other medical thing as well. She knew more than the text books. She could recall that information at the drop of a hat too, which was also convenient, as well. "Put your hands behind your back here, and wrap your hands around the rungs in the chair." Mulder was so enthralled by the touch of her fingers massaging away the tension in his back he almost failed to notice the clink-clink of Scully's handcuffs connecting his hands to each other as well as the rungs of the chair he was holding onto. He almost did. But he didn't (fail to notice, that is). Alarmed, instantly, Mulder pulled and pulled against the handcuffs, but it was to no avail. Those handcuffs and Mulder's chair that he bought with his money from Great Aunt Martha's inheritance were a good restraint against his futile efforts. Scully almost snorted when she saw the bulge growing in his pants. She didn't want to sound like a bull though, so instead she sounded like a kitten when she purred, "Mulder? Do you know how mean you are?" He closed his eyes, trying to think of a good comeback. He'd originally thought he was going to get to have sex with her, now he had to actually communicate with her. "Scul-" "Because you are such a meanie." He opened his eyes and looked into hers. Her gaze reminded him of a blue-green sea with specks of gold and brown in them, like chunks of driftwood, or seaweed, or dead, bloated fish bodies, and when the light hit them just right they were also violet in nature. He loved her eyes. They went so well with her face. Right now though they were teasing, and evil-looking. "No, Scully, I-" "Mulder! No talking! You talk all the time, and you never listen to a word I say. But I'm going to make you listen, you Big Blue Meanie." "Are you calling me a Smurf?!" Scully's searing gaze dropped to his lap where his own Big Blue was standing proudly, ready to pledge the American flag. A small, sneaky smile spread on Scully's lips. Mulder's eyes grew in fright, well they didn't actually grow, but widened, in shock. "I have a plan," She announced mightily. "I've planned this for a long time, Mulder." And with that she stuck her nose in the air and turned around towards his desk, where she began to rummage through his drawers, the drawers of his desk, looking for what he did not know. She continued her thorough search, stopping only to look at pictures of Mulder as a child, making the occasional comment on his nose or ears, ignoring the hurt look on his face, until she finally found what she was looking for to begin with. She smiled proudly at him, like a little girl seeking out encouragement from her big brother, or maybe her father, or even a third cousin, who was also male, and she displayed an open hand with a rubber band dangling from each finger, and three from her thumb. Mulder's eyes, which had previously returned to their normal size, again grew in alarm. "You're. . . you're not going to. . . wrap those around my throbbing manhood, and. . . pull them off with your tongue. . . are y- you?" Scully laughed as she moved to remove his tie, using only one hand it was difficult, but she finally managed and then attempted to gag him with his own tie. Which of course, wasn't hard (unlike his throbbing manhood) since his mouth was hanging wide open in shock, but before she could get the tie in it's appropriate place, Mulder bit into her hand, causing her to laugh with mischief, which only infuriated the now-gagged Mulder. "Don't be a loony gooney, Fox." He struggled again against his bonds and mumbled something through the tacky silk in his mouth. Something which sounded familiarly like "Fuck you", or maybe it was "alligator shoes". It could not have been, however, "I love you", because even Mulder should know this would be neither the time or the place for that, though, maybe the *next* time she had him tied up. . . If there ever was a next time. It wasn't looking so good for Mulder, because the more Scully thought about his meanness, the more she wanted to hurt him real bad. It just wasn't fair what he did to her, or rather, in some cases, what he *didn't* do to her, being as Scully had had a particular fantasy about her partner Mulder for a long, long time, even longer than she had Queequeg, though to be honest that wasn't that long of a time. But she had loved Mulder for longer than that. Of course, it wasn't as if he noticed. He was too preoccupied ditching her for someone or something else. He had been cruel to her. And now it was time for her revenge. She pulled a rubber band off her left hand (they had been on her right hand, but being as Scully was right handed, it made more sense for her to put them on her left hand, and so, being the sensible person she was, she did). Smiling, she looped one rubber band around the dip of her pointer finger, where is pointer, where is pointer, here I am, here I am, and then doubled the rubber band and looped it around her thumb. She folded her other three fingers that were not in use, so that they would be out of the way, resulting in a "gun" formation with her pointer finger and thumb. Impossibly though it seemed, though obviously it was possible because he was able to do it, Mulder's eyes grew yet again, as Scully raised her "gun" at his chest. "This is for Phoebe," she announced as she bent her thumb and sent the blasted band into Mulder's chest, a soft plumph when the rubber made contact with his cloth-covered chest of something less firm than steel, but pretty darn firm, nonetheless. Scully always wondered about that chest. When did Mulder have time to work out? He certainly didn't have time when he was off running around in haunted houses and chasing goat suckers. "This is for Detective White," she announced as she bent her thumb and sent another blasted band into Mulder's chest, a soft plumph when the rubber made contact with his cloth-covered chest of not-quite steel. He groaned a low groan of tortured pleasure as he felt the blasted band connect with the steel of his chest. He loved it when his Scully played dirty. She was his Scully after all. He was her Mulder. They were each other's Scully and Mulder. But that wasn't really the point. The point was Scully was aiming her next rubber band at him. Or rather, she was aiming two rubber bands at him this time. "This is for *Bambi*, " she announced as she bent her thumb and sent two more blasted bands into Mulder's chest, a soft plumph-plumph when the rubbers made contact with his cloth-covered chest of almost steel. Ah, that chest of steel she thought. What a chest. Almost comparable to his pulsating joystick bulging through his pants. Oh, what she would give to see that lovehandle of passion! But not at the moment. Right now (there's no tomorrow) she was teaching him a valuable lesson. "*This*, My dear Fox, is for Diana," and with that she bent her thumb and sent the last remaining three blasted bands into Mulder's chest, a soft plumph- plumph-plumph when the rubbers made contact with his cloth-covered chest of quasi-steel, followed closely by an ow-ow-ow from the chest's owner. But Scully wasn't finished. No, siree, Bob. She still had plans for this man. She turned around again to face the desk (the same desk Mulder was facing), and began rummaging through his desk drawers again. Hadn't she seen- Oh yes. There they were! She pulled out a large handful of even larger rubber bands. And these weren't just larger rubber bands, no ma'am. These were those super huge elastic rubber bands postal workers used to bind together large bundles of letters, and children used to operate their coffee can cars they made for the science fair, which she had never won as a child, even though her Foldger's Porsche had obviously been better than Alma Trickle's hydroelectric plant trimmer. Upon seeing Scully's new weapon of choice, Mulder's eyes again grew like cookie saucers and he began frantically rubbing his cheek against his cloth- covered shoulder trying to dislodge his Marvin the Martian tie Skinner's secretary had given him for Christmas three years ago, that was now gagging his open mouth. Scully stepped backwards, away from the jerking Mulder, and raised her fingers again, this time using both pointer fingers to stretch the rubber band tautly. "This is for all those 'nice trips to the forest'." He barely had time to respond before the huge rubber band came flying into his shoulder. He jumped high off the chair, but his handcuffed hands quickly acted as an anchor, pulling him back to the antique chair he no longer loved. He redoubled his efforts, trying four times as hard to get the tie out of his mouth so he could try to sweet talk her into stopping this harsh punishment. He used his multitalented tongue to push the tie as his cheek was rubbed raw against his shoulder. Scully giggled at his vain attempts and launched the next rubber band without warning, and this surprised Mulder even more as the elastic connected somewhere around his left nipple. Scully continued to shoot several more rubber bands in this manner, laughing with glee each time one hit the bull's eye and Mulder thrashed around on his chair. Band after band thumped forcefully into his sore chest and his obscenities became clearer as the tie began to slip. He was almost startled when Scully again began to speak once more. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Mulder? How long I've dreamed about you at night while you were off at some porno movie? How often I touched myself, wishing I made you hotter than those damn aliens?" He paused for a moment, his attention suddenly riveted on the ravishing redhead in front of him. "Do you even care, Mulder? Do you even know how cruel that is?" He nodded, once, but it wasn't any use because another rubber band hit him square on the chest, which then reminded him he had lapsed in his efforts to spit the tie out. Scully raised another ridiculously large rubber band, aiming it towards his lower chest, slight aggravation showing on her face when the blasted band slipped and she had to bend over to pick it up. She doubled the band across her fingers, frustrated with the size of it, and cursing the US Postal service at the same time. Why couldn't they make these things with better traction so they wouldn't slip? Was it necessary to sacrifice efficiency for size? God knows she had done that many times with her past lovers. They had all been huge but none of them, no, not one of them could make love the way Scully had always dreamed of being made love to. She wondered if Mulder-- who definitely had the size, if the tent in his pants meant anything-- would be able to satisfy her throbbing desires. Perhaps that's why post office workers were always going postal, because the size of their rubber bands reminded them of their own shortcomings in the bedroom. That was so typically male too. To try to compensate for their lousy lovemaking skills by pulling out their big guns, so to speak, and, in a moment of he-man power, blowing people away. The US postal service probably didn't want people to know that either so they probably released a statement to the press claiming their workers were under much duress, which is why they kept raising the price of postage too, and thus the increase in hostility among government employees. Suddenly Scully dropped the rubber bands in surprise, her eyes suddenly darting to Mulder who had looked up at her sudden hesitation. The government was behind it all! Mulder had been right all along. The government *was* hiding something from the people. If they could keep their dirty little secret about male inadequacies, they certainly could conceal their efforts to form a union with an alien race and take over the world through colonization! "Mulder!" Scully exclaimed enthusiastically. He looked at her with alarm, afraid what the next stage of her torture would be. She ran towards him, her arms outstretched, perky little breasts bouncing. Was that "Chariots of Fire" Mulder heard in the background as his Scully came closer and closer, and why was she running in slow motion? All too suddenly she was there in front of him, plopping herself down in his lap, raining kisses on his face. Mulder mumbled something that sounded like her name, but was muffled through the tie *still* residing in his mouth. "Mulder you've been right all along! The government *is* behind a conspiracy to take over the planet! How silly I've been the last six years arguing with you!" Curious as to her sudden attitude change and puzzled by her admission, Mulder tried to ask her where she had come up with this new insight, but the tie still prohibited him from speaking clearly. Scully gave him a quizzical look, momentarily confused by his ramblings, and then she laughed a delightful laugh as she pulled the tie from his mouth. Before she was capable of saying anything else he had leaned up and captured her mouth in a bone-numbing, earth-shattering, soul-splitting, saliva spitting duel of tongues. No damn bee was going to deprive him of this opportunity again. Not that there were any bees around, it was the middle of winter, and D.C. was especially cold this year, but his point was their first kiss wasn't going to be disrupted. She tasted salty and tangy and her own Scully taste as her tongue slid around his and tickled his soft palate. She was bouncing up and down on his lap like an eager poodle performing tricks for a Snausage, agonizing him with the feel of her plump little derriere pumping against his pulsating manplank. He groaned into the kiss and she pulled back with a smile. Her smile, which was so rare, was like a rainbow in his gloomy world, every color gleaming forth through his clouds of despair. ROYGBIV he thought, an acronym to help him remember the colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet came streaming through his black world, and he felt his heart flutter at the thought of it. "Untie me, Scully. Let me make love to you like we've both always fantasized about." She climbed off his lap, the smile on her face getting bigger (you're never fully dressed without a smile, but to be honest, Mulder was hoping she'd be a little less dressed by now, period). To his relief she pulled out a small silver key and dangled it in front of his face. "That's it, Dana. I'm going to make all your wildest dreams come true." "Oh, you are, Fox. But not today." She threw the key at his messy desk (he'd never find it there), and headed toward the door. "But, Scully, Dana! C'mon! Where are you going?!" "This is for biting me earlier." And with that the love of his life opened the door to his apartment and stepped into the hall, turning to blow him a kiss, before shutting the door behind her, and leaving him there to fend for himself, never telling him she'd return in the morning. THE END.