"C'mon, Frohike. What's with all the mysterious hints you were dropping earlier?"
Byers turned to the little man reprovingly. "Haven't you got any shame? I told
you not to tell anyone. It was a reprehensible thing to do in the first place,
don't exacerbate it by making it public, please."
"Hey, lighten up. Mulder's hardly the public. He's our friend, he ought to be in
on the joke. Y'know he won't say a word to Langly."
And where was Langly? There was indeed a gap in the Gunmen's ranks. Langly's
sister, the one that lived on a hippy commune in Colorado, had demanded he visit
for a few days to celebrate his birthday with, as she put it, "A good
oldfashioned love-in". Muttering darkly, he'd reluctantly agreed to go.
"Remember a few months ago when we sneaked a look at Langly's diary, Mulder?"
asked Frohike.
Byers glowered at him and interjected, "Of course he doesn't, because I persuaded
you not to show him. And you mustn't show him the tape either."
Something interesting was definitely in the air. Mulder sidled along the couch,
right up to Frohike, and said cajolingly, "Ignore him, he's just a party pooper.
C'mon, give. What're you going to show me?"
"Well, Byers and I read Langly's secret diary." He began, in an intimate voice.
"Humph." grunted the other Gunman. "You read it, I had to endure your recitation
of the more salacious passages."
"Y'know, it's real traditional. Paper, pen, 'Dear Diary', keeps it under his
mattress. Kinda sweet really. It's in code, but that was childishly simple to
crack."
"Jeez, I gotta see this." said Mulder eagerly, his eyes lighting.
"He took it with him." said Byers flatly. "Frohike already checked."
"Aww."
"But that's not what I want you to see. The point is, it was full of his sex
fantasies. In great detail. And I mean great... some of them were really hot."
"They are private." interrupted Byers angrily. "It was despicable of you to read
them."
"Shut up, Byers." shouted the other two in unison. Byers frowned and subsided
into a disapproving silence.
"Was I in there?" inquired Mulder.
"Only in passing."
This was disappointing. Mulder liked to occupy centre stage in the lives of all
who knew him, and was not too proud to include the sex-lives of skinny
straggle-haired geeks in that category. Less keenly, he prompted, "So who was?"
"Numero Uno position went to Gene Simmons."
"The guy from 'Kiss'? All black and white make-up and the longest tongue you'd
see on anything other than an anteater?"
"That's the one. That tongue featured heavily by the way. You couldn't imagine
what Langly wanted him to do with it."
Oh yes, I could, thought Mulder, flushing.
"Frohike decided to make his dreams come true for a birthday treat."
"You got him a date with Gene Simmons?" whispered Mulder, awed. Wow, he had faith
in the Gunmen's abilities to perform miracles, but this was something else.
"I decided not to." replied Frohike. "I thought the make-up might come off while
they were getting it on and spoil the illusion. We went for his second choice,
instead. Batman."
"George Clooney, Val Kilmer... ?"
Frohike gave him an odd look. "Just 'Batman'. The one with the cape and the
Batmobile. We hired him a Batman."
Realisation dawned. "You got him a lookalike. Kiss-o-gram sorta thing. I see."
"Shit, Mulder, you didn't think I meant the real thing? How much d'ya think it
would cost to rent George Clooney to fuck Langly?"
"Not much, before he was in ER, I suspect." They all took a moment to contemplate
an opportunity, forever lost.
Frohike rummaged amongst an untidy heap of periodicals stacked on the floor, and
passed Mulder a folded newspaper with an ad circled in red highlighter.
"FANTASY FUCKS" it read. "The man of your dreams is just a phone-call away! Ever
wanted to go down on the President? Feel the Force with Darth Vader? Spend a
night of romance and poetry with William Shakespeare? Or maybe exercise the
springs on that famous couch with Homer Simpson? Make it all come true! Gay Men
only. All major credit cards accepted. Call toll-free 0800-WET DREAMS."
"So, was it expensive? Was the guy good? And how the hell did you persuade Langly
to go for it."
"That's a yes, and a yes, and Frohike drugged him." answered Byers, contriving to
look even more censorious.
"Oh, c'mon, it was only the teeniest dose of Rohipnol. Just enough to relax him
and make him suggestible. We told him we were going to a fancy dress party at a
hotel. We took him to a bedroom to get changed—he was supposed to be Robin,
part of the fantasy, y'see—and we slipped out while he was in the bathroom."
"Mr. Porno here had set up a secret camera to record the proceedings. I didn't
find out about that 'til later."
"Just wanted to make sure we got our money's worth." said Frohike, virtuously.
"Wanna see?"
"Me? Dirty video? What do you think?"
"Hmm." grinned Frohike, slipping the tape in the machine.
For a couple of minutes the hotel room was empty, then Langly wandered in,
wearing only a pair of boxers, in lurid shades of purple, on his thin frame.
"We'd told him we'd see him in the foyer in ten minutes." hissed Frohike.
Tipping the contents of a bag onto the bed, he dressed himself in the colourful
'Robin' costume it contained. The tight lycra outfit did little for his figure,
but he seemed to be satisfied, though it was obvious he was torn between wearing
his glasses over his face mask, or forgoing them for the sake of verisimilitude
and condemning himself to blurred vision.
Suddenly the curtains rustled. Langly span round, a startled expression on his
face. Climbing through the window was a muscular, black-clad man, his elegant
cloak swirling from his shoulders and his sculpted mask drawing the eye to his
beautiful mouth and firm chin. Batman, silent as a shadow, an ebon panther
stalking his prey, swept over to the frozen and dumb-struck Robin.
"My Robin," he growled, in a husky voice that sent shivers down Mulder's spine,
"they said you'd be waiting here for me."
Enveloping the other man in his cape, he pulled him close and took his lips in a
deep, passionate kiss. Langly moaned and slumped in his arms.
"My God," whispered Mulder, "has he fainted?"
"No—shush—it gets better."
Pulling away from Langly, the man hitched his cloak back over his shoulders,
affording the watchers a clear view of his perfect body... every muscle, every
movement, emphasised by the skin of black latex that enclosed it. He took
Langly's hands, and pulled off the green gauntlets by teasing each finger with
his teeth until his hands were freed. He placed Langly's naked palms on his
torso, and encouraged him to smooth them over the silky rubber. Already Langly's
mouth was slack, his breath coming in short gasps, and the Robin outfit did
nothing to conceal the erection tenting his groin.
As they caressed, as Batman slowly unclothed his partner, murmuring endearments,
scattering kisses on his neck and shoulders, Mulder grew uneasy about the
black-clad man. There was something familiar in the way he moved, in his voice,
and as the figure turned to the camera, giving Mulder a longer view of his face,
it clicked.
Batman was Alex Krycek.
The Gunmen obviously hadn't recognised him, but Mulder was sure. What the hell
was going on? What devilish trick was the Rat-bastard pulling now? He glanced at
the others. Frohike was rapt, and, despite his protests, so was Byers. They'd
seen this before, and seemed unconcerned, so presumably nothing bad would happen
to Langly. He sat back to enjoy the entertainment.
But for his mask and green boots, Langly was now nude. His cock, nestling in
sparse golden hairs, was leaving silver trails of pre-come on Batman's sleek
clothing as he was fondled and kneaded, his flesh starkly white against the
spurred black gloves. Batman sank to his knees, his supple cloak pooling around
him, and sucked Langly's shaft right into his mouth. The other man groaned and
writhed, working the stiff little ears on the top of Batman's head with his
fingers.
Batman looked up. "I want to love you properly, Robin." he sighed huskily. "I
want to possess you, to be inside you. Do you want that too?"
"Yes, Batman, yes." Langly croaked, the first coherent words he had spoken since
the start of the tape.
Batman stood, and placed Langly's hands on the moulded codpiece that covered his
genitals. "Free me, my Robin. See how much I desire you."
After some fiddling, Langly worked out the fastenings and removed the stiff
shield. Batman's cock sprang out, impressive in its length and width,
frighteningly organic against the abstract artifice of the superhero costume.
"Holy hard-on, Batman." declared Robin, reverently, finally recalling who he was
meant to be.
Batman grinned. "Just a little preparation with some items from my utility belt
and I'll be ready for action, Robin. Jump in the Batmobile and get set for the
ride of your life."
As Langly pulled off his boots and scrambled onto the bed, a translucent black
condom was rolled onto the Batprick and lubricated. Then, with a swirl of his
cloak, he swooped onto Robin and tenderly kissed his lips.
"Jeez, why did Langly pick himself a superhero that wears a cape?" grumbled
Mulder, for the next few minutes of love-making could only be guessed at by
observing the motions occurring under the inky cloth. Eventually a steady rocking
was established, inching the cloak to one side, until it eventually slid off
Batman's back and restored their view of the couple. Batman was obviously fully
in possession of his Robin, because Langly was doubled up on his back, legs drawn
up, and Batman was resting between them, his rubber-sheathed ass undulating as he
pleasured his partner.
Langly was far too aroused for more role-playing, only a steady chorus of moans
and grunts issued from his lips, and what could be seen of his skin was tinged a
delicate shade of pink and sheened with sweat. The effort of fucking in a rubber
costume was all too evident from Batman's face, which was nearly scarlet, and a
steady drip of moisture fell from his chin onto Langly's stomach. Mulder wondered
how it would feel to make love totally encased in a waterproof suit, and
mentally put it on his 'to do' list.
Now the crescendo of the performance was fast approaching. The superhero's
powerful thrusts were shaking the bed, the jerky motion of the arm that was
trapped between him and his slighter partner an indication that Robin's cock had
found a sheath in Batman's fist. With a final heave and twist of his hips, Batman
sent them both over the edge. Langly threshed wildly, and with a piercing shriek,
passed out cold.
Withdrawing from the unconscious man, Batman cleaned himself on the discarded
Robin outfit, and quickly redressed, leaving the room conventionally, by the
door.
At this point the screen blanked. "Langly was fine, in case you were worrying,
Mulder." said Byers. "Frohike had another drugged drink waiting for him when he
came round, in case he got hysterical. But, thank God, he didn't need to use it,
because Langly woke up, really groggy, about five minutes after Batman left, and
by the time we got him home he was asleep. We reckon he thinks it was all a
dream."
"Jes-us, that was really something else, guys. You have got a note of when my
birthday is, haven't you. Excuse me, I gotta go to the bathroom."
Mulder walked stiffly from the room, his progress followed by a sniggering
Frohike and a disdainful Byers. Slumped on the toilet, his pants bunched round
his knees, painfully erect prick in hand, Mulder replayed the tape in his mind.
Two important actions required his attention. Firstly, put the image of Krycek's
body, sheathed in black latex, right at the top of his "Jerk-off Fantasies Hall
of Fame." That could be taken care of right now. Secondly, dial 0800-WET DREAMS.
Mulder decided to postpone that one 'til the morning.
Fantasy
by Sebastian
The last crumb of pizza had gone, and more than a few beers had been drunk before
Mulder broached the subject again.
