The three figures walked nervously along the sterile white corridor.
"Frohike, you realise the risk we're undertaking in coming here. " Byers whispered to the first and shortest of the trio.
"Mulder's our friend." Frohike said. "We owe him this. We have to get him out of this place, guys. I don't think he's going to last much longer."
"You really think they don't know we're here, man?" Langly asked nervously.
"We're not important to them." Frohike said, with more confidence than he felt. "I think we can get in and out without our minds being affected if we move fast enough."
Langly looked at the printout he was clutching sweatily in his hand.
"Room 42. It's got to be down here somewhere."
"Here!" Byers hissed. "This is the door!" Frohike elbowed him aside and peered through the bars at the pitiful figure that lay huddled on the narrow bed.
"Mulder!" Frohike called. "It's us! We've come to rescue you!"
Mulder limped to the cell door. His face was pale and gaunt and a bruise stood out darkly against his white skin. "Guys, you've got to get out of here before it's too late!" he hissed. "You can't get me out of here! They always find me and bring me back. If you stay here, you're only going to get hurt!"
"No, Mulder." Byers said. "We're not leaving without you."
"You don"t understand! Nobody escapes from this place!"
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"You have no idea where you are." Mulder said in despair. "You have no idea who runs this place, how powerful they are. These are the dungeon halls of fanfic, Slash division. There's no escape!"
"My God, it's worse than I thought." Frohike murmured.
"Mulder, what do they do to you in here?" Byers asked, appalled by the condition of his friend.
"You've read the fanfic." Mulder said wretchedly. "You know what they do to me. The pain, the degradation. The incredible, mind-blowing sex..."
"Is that what you do all day, man?" Langly asked, as he fumbled with the door lock. In just a second or two he had managed to open it, allowing the three lone gunmen to spill into the cell with Mulder.
"Not today." Mulder said, laying wearily back down on the bed. "Mondays I get off. Time to recover. Krycek comes round on Tuesdays. That's not so bad. At least I usually get to have sex and half the time I get to beat him up too."
"But Krycek's the evil double-crossing ratboy Russian agent who killed your father!" Frohike exclaimed.
"Yeah, but you've got to feel sorry for him. He gets tortured almost as often as I do. Even Chris Carter enjoys beating up on Krycek. Hell, you guys saw "Tunguska". At least nobody's hacked any of *my* extremities off with red-hot knives." He swallowed and looked around nervously. "Not yet, anyway. Anyway, Alex is kind of cute. Sometimes he calls me 'Moose'."
"He calls you *Moose*?" Frohike echoed in disbelief.
"Yeah. And then he betrays me horribly and vanishes into thin air. Happens every week, sometimes two or three times in one afternoon."
"Then why do you still let him seduce you?" Frohike asked in mystification.
"He's just so cute. I can't resist it when he uses the eyelashes. Though of course when he uses the handcuffs as well I don't have much of a choice."
"This is worse than I thought. What about the rest of the week?" Langly asked.
"Wednesdays are great." Mulder said with a tired grin. "Discipline with Skinner. He's tough but strangely gentle, and when he takes his glasses off and I see his eyes go dark with lust I know that there won't ever be anyone who can satisfy my needs the way he does."
Langly looked at his watch. Frohike barely smothered a yawn.
"Yeah, Mulder. Moving on..."
"Thursdays.. Thursdays are pretty bad." Mulder looked down at his shaking hands.
"You can tell us, Mulder." Byers said gently. "What is it? Unspeakable alien tortures? The consortium finally taking its revenge?"
"It's worse than that. So much worse." Mulder said in a whisper.
"Tell us, Mulder." Frohike said. "We're on your side."
"Thursdays are when mom and dad come to visit."
"Oh god." Frohike whispered. "Mulder, I'm sorry. I had no idea it was this bad!"
"Then on Friday Scully comes round and shouts at me. Sometimes she shoots me too."
"She shoots you? Don't you guys get to have sex?"
"No sex. The 'shippers have their own dungeon somewhere else. I bet that Mulder gets to have more fun than I do. Except on Wednesdays, when Skinner comes and shows me what the love of a real man means..."
"Can we please skip the Skinner stuff?" Langly asked wearily.
Frohike licked his lips. "Yeah... and I want to know, do *I* get to have sex with Scully anywhere?"
"Even in here they're not that sick." Mulder said. "Besides, you guys are the comedy sidekicks. You're just not slashable enough."
"What about the rest of the week, Mulder?" Byers asked.
"Saturdays are usually crossovers. Those can be kind of fun. Getting to meet your fellow prisoners, socialising, swapping gossip, indulging in wild, multi-partner sex. Then there's Sundays. Pretty boring, really. Alien bounty hunters, the consortium. Mostly I just get beaten up. That's when I have the flashbacks and the angst."
"That's kind of rough." Byers said sympathetically.
"I'm used to it by now. Most people have flashbacks and angst on Sundays anyway. Too many repeats on TV."
"So, you get to have a lot of sex in here?" Frohike asked.
Mulder gestured towards a largish cupboard that stood in one corner of the room.
"Open it. Take a look."
Frohike gingerly opened the cupboard and gasped in amazement.
"What is all this stuff, Mulder?"
"Well the handcuffs are for when Krycek comes round. Most of the BDSM stuff belongs to Walt. The other shelves are all lube."
"This isn't lube!" Byers said. "Lip salve, olive oil, suntan lotion, washing-up liquid, margarine.. what the hell is this? This pink stuff with 'Mulder' on the label?"
"It's a bottle of thousand island dressing with my name on it." Mulder said apologetically. "One of Ethan Nelson's. At least I didn't actually have to use it..."
"Ethan Nelson too, huh?" Byers said sympathetically.
"He's not so bad. At least I get out and about, and the sex is great."
"Yeah. Wasn't that you and Skinner having sex bungee jumping from the Sears Tower last week?" Langly asked suspiciously.
"And the week before." Byers said. "In the orca pool at Seaworld?"
"And on the podium during the last presidential inauguration?" Frohike chimed in.
"That one was kind of hard to arrange." Mulder admitted. "But it was worth it just to see the look on Al Gore's face..."
He was interrupted as a distant series of clanging noises echoed through the corridors, growing closer and louder. The three visitors looked around nervously.
"I hate this." Mulder said softly. "They're bringing the guy who got done over this morning back to his cell and collecting whoever's pulled the afternoon session."
Frohike watched wide-eyed as a tall, slender dark haired man was dragged struggling past the cell by two armed guards.
"Who's that?" Langly asked.
"That's Adam Pierson." Mulder said grimly. "Apart from Mondays he doesn't have it too bad. Spends most of his time being spanked by Duncan Macleod, lucky bastard."
"And what happens on Mondays?" Frohike asked apprehensively.
A scream of unbridled horror echoed down the corridor, trailing off into a series of gasping sobs. Mulder shuddered and looked up the three gunmen with a face that told of unknowable horrors: "Mondays he has his flashbacks..."
A trolley with a writhing figure strapped to it was wheeled past in the other direction.
"I SO just can't take this any more!" the curly haired figure cried.
Mulder shook his head. "That poor Sandburg kid. He's the only one in here who gets it worse than I do. Looks like he's just had another session with that Stronach woman. Christ.."
A anguished voice carried down the corridor. "Chief! She made me do it! I'm so sorry!"
Mulder sighed. "I mean, hurt/comfort is all very well in its place, but it's all they ever get to do. It's like every insane criminal and drug baron in the entire northern hemisphere converges on this medium-sized town in Washington state for the express purpose of beating those guys up. It doesn't make sense! What do they do up there the rest of the time? Sell crack to moose? Smuggle maple syrup across the border? That's when Ellison isn't beating the kid up himself. I mean, it's so out of character, damn it! We've done some crossovers together! Ellison's a nice guy! He's almost as stacked as Skinner!"
Frohike sighed. Mulder was starting to lose control and he wasn't certain how much more the Agent could take.
"Mulder, it'll be over soon." he said, as calmly as possibly. "Even if we can't get you out there's going to be a couple more seasons tops before everybody gets bored with the whole thing."
Mulder gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. "No way, guys. These women won't let that stop them. You remember the Professionals? Bodie and Doyle? They've just over the hall. They've been in here since 1978! I'm never going to get out!"
"Mulder, you have to stay calm." Frohike said. "We're working on it."
"But you don't understand!" Mulder wailed desperately. "There's no escape! Not as long as there are women who write about rough male/male sex to create an environment for themselves where characters can enjoy being sexually submissive without conforming to male/female sexual archetypes and in the process using the hurt/comfort mechanism to break through social taboos against homosexuality by creating a stress/pain situation where male sexual contact is both punished and permitted!"
"You think that's why they do it?" Byers asked.
"That's not why they do it, Mulder." Langly said, with an evil grin.
"They do it because it's fun, Mulder." Frohike said, with a nasty smirk. "Just like we're going to do it because it's fun."
"No, guys!" Mulder said desperately. "They're messing with your heads! You've got to fight it!"
"It's too late for that, Mulder." Frohike said. "Much too late. You're at our mercy now. We're getting our revenge for four seasons of 'geek' jokes. We're going to prove we're slash material and have some of this great sex that everyone except us is getting!"
With an evil grin Byers pulled a ghetto blaster from his shoulder bag.
"But first, Mulder, there's something we want you to hear..."
"No! Please, don't do this!" Mulder cried in anguish. "Don't play me some tedious song with trite lyrics that maybe one in twenty readers is going to know the tune to! Please guys! I'm begging you!"
Frohike smirked sadistically as he slowly pushed the play button.
"The slash writers have no mercy, Mulder. You know that. BWAHAHAHAhah!"
The tones of an organ recording of 'I enjoy being a girl' echoed through the little cell. Frohike gave Byers a cold stare.
"Damn." Byers muttered. "Wrong CD. Langly, have you seen my "Sickly Sounds of the Seventies" compilation anywhere?"
"Sorry man." Langly said apologetically. "I listened to 'Seasons in the Sun' one too many times and put it through the shredder."
"Oh well." Frohike said impatiently. "I guess we can do without the musical interlude. Byers, tell him the real reason why we're here!"
"You must have know, Mulder that for all this time we work for the consortiom." Byer's said "For your final torture we are telling you all the secret that will break your spirit for good!! We are Cancermans triplet's! And Alex is really an alien! And so is you're dad! And Samantha!! You will never escape from this cell you're final resting place!!"
There was a sharp knock on the door.
"OK in there, this is JoAnne," a stern voice called. "You know the rules. No bad characterisation, no unlikely family relationships, check your grammar and spelling and work on improving that syntax!"
"Sorry!" Byers called through the door. "Don't know what came over me."
"She rules this place with an iron fist." Mulder told them shakily. "Of course there's stuff that goes on that she doesn't know about, but you have to feel sorry for the ones she catches."
"Sheesh." Frohike muttered. "Can't a guy have a little fun?"
"I think if we're careful with the spelling and the grammar we can get away with it." Byers mused. "I mean, she didn't spot us before now. Let's face it, the whole premise of this story is pretty unlikely."
"You mean we can carry on?" Frohike asked with a grin. "Hot damn. Someone pass me those handcuffs!"
Mulder backed away desperately as the three unlikely protagonists approached him with lust in their hearts and smirks on their faces.
"No guys!" he cried in a pitiful attempt to halt the inevitable. "Don't do it! It's the fan-fic writers! They're messing with your minds!"
But it was far, far too late...
Langly, Frohike and Byers left the building with satisfied smirks on their faces.
"I think the best bit was when his lower lip started to quiver." Langly said.
"Those little whimpering noises were pretty good too." Frohike said with a contented smirk. "I still think you went a bit far though, Byers."
"Someone had to use up that thousand island dressing." Byers said, with a shrug. "Comedy sidekicks my ass! Did you manage to speak to the management, Frohike?"
"Yeah. They think they can fit us in Fridays after Scully's finished shouting at him. I still don't get to have sex with Scully though."
"Don't worry about it, man. Muldertorture is much more fun."