Wind in the Hoover Building: As the Rat Crows by Douglas Hathaway
This was written for another list in response to a challenge to write a story that begins, "As I sucked his cock..." The first line is the smuttiest. Thanks to Mitch for crime story elements. This is set in the Wind in the Hoover Building Universe, where Mulder the Fox, Scully the Squirrel, and Krycek the Rat fight crime in Edwardian children's clothes.
Wind in the Hoover Building: As the Rat Crows
by Jose Cheung
"As I sucked his cock, I squeezed his firm buns, before grasping his ball sac in my right hand and pulling down hard." Mulder the Fox read aloud from the book in front of him. "You know, Scully, we've seen a case like this before. Only it wasn't roosters, it was goats. And I doubt any of the Chupacabra ever left written accounts. Not in English, anyway."
Scully the Squirrel adjusted her reading glasses as she looked over Mulder's shoulder at the cheaply-printed text. "What's confusing are the other elements. The rooster should have put up quite a fight, unless he'd already killed it. Yet he was able to examine the freshness of the rooster's owner's baked goods, and apparently tried to steal some sports equipment, while exsanguinating the bird."
Mulder the Fox tipped back in his chair, and stared at one of the many yellowed newsclippings taped to the wall of their burrow. "Carnivore Stripped My Son!" cried the headline of an old Saturday Sport. The photo of an indignant rabbit in an apron scowled back at him.
"'Squeezed his firm buns,...'" Mulder read aloud again. "Scully, what if 'buns' is some kind of a slang? What if he wasn't squeezing a small loaf of bread at all, but a small rabbit? A *bunny* rabbit?"
"Mulder, what are you saying?," Scully's mouth parted slightly with concern.
Mulder strode across the room and snatched the clipping down. His nose twitched. He was on the hunt now. "Look at this, Scully!," he said, his voice rising with excitement. "Four years ago, on the other side of the Fairing Green, there was a police report about a," he paused as he skimmed the story, "Farmer Brown. A juvenile trespasser named Peter Rabbit accused Brown of tearing his coat off . His mother told the police that Brown killed young rabbits and cooked them in a stew. The police looked for a possible child molestation angle, but they didn't have enough evidence to make a case, and they didn't even investigate the allegations of lagomorphagia."
"Mulder, Peter Rabbit and his mother weren't the most reliable witnesses," Scully said drily. "The only remarkable thing about Peter was the length of his juvenile record. Burglary, vandalism, breaking and entering...If you recall, he didn't come up with the story about Farmer Brown taking his clothes until *after* he found out Brown was going to press larceny charges."
"But what if Peter's mother was right, Scully? What if he's been eating rabbits for years, and now he's on a spree, escalating to chickens as well? And what if this 'ball sac' is a slang term for another one of his victims? This could be his confession. He's *bragging* about what he's done. It's high time someone cooked his goose." Scully grimaced at Mulder's fowl language.
"I suppose you want us to drive out there," she said, resigned.
"I'll go sign out a car," he said, excited, as he bounded out of the burrow.
Krycek the Rat was scampering along the path, resplendent in his crisp new blue and white sailor's blouse and cap, thinking about how Mulder the Fox would appreciate the way their colors set off his sleek brown fur. When he saw Mulder emerge from the burrow, he broke into a run, leaping on his friend's neck from behind, which made Mulder lose his balance, and caused both of them to sprawl in the dirt. "Krycek!" Mulder barked, "What are you doing here? I don't have time for your games. I've got to catch a murderer!"
Krycek became serious. "Can I look at the case file?," he asked. Even though he'd never really been an agent of the Furry Burrow of Investigation, he was a crackerjack detective. Crackerjacks were among his very favorite foods, and he gnawed through any box of them he detected.
Mulder dashed back into the burrow, grabbed the weatherbeaten paperback off his desk, and ran back out before Scully could ask him what he was doing. He handed it to Krycek. "Blowjob Bugleboys," Krycek read the cover aloud. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it right here, beneath this hedgerow, this morning. I think someone left it there for me to find, but I can't imagine who," Mulder explained. "It looks like the account of some sort of barnyard Dracula-wannabe who drinks the blood of chickens. But we can't tell if the target was the rooster or the owner, and we haven't found any evidence of fowl play. *Yet*," he concluded.
"As I sucked his cock," Krycek read. His eyes took on a wicked green glow, and he smiled slyly. "Mulder, this isn't about *roosters*!," he snorted with rodentine laughter. "Don't you know what cocksucking is?"
"No, Krycek, I don't. Are you going to enlighten me, or are you going to stand there laughing at me while innocent birds die?" Mulder growled.
"*Mul*-der, tell Scully to go to the morgue or someplace for half an hour, so I can teach you all about sucking cock," Krycek said, grinning lasciviously.