From here on in, it's definitely NC-17. Warning: what might be considered a non-consensual fantasy is in this part.

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Heart of Gold sleeping quarters
On the way to Eroticon 42
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Chapter 11: Is it real or is it microchips?
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Fox was led down a dark hallway, preceded and flanked by four darker figures in black silken robes and leathery, faceless masks. The figures - one in front, one in back, and one at each side, each maintaining two yards' distance from him - were genderless. Even their species was undeterminable. Their flowing robes hid their bodies, and they communicated with Mulder without a single word spoken. Their thoughts, their orders, entered his mind with not quite words, not quite images, not quite emotions, but a bit of all three making it clear what was expected of him.

Their prisoner, if that's what Fox was to them, knew what he must do. He must follow. He must obey. He must ask no questions. He must stay silent. He must not resist. If he did all this, he would be rewarded. His hardening prick, suffocating in his earthly clothing, gave its insistence that he choose to do whatever the beings wanted him to do.

The party arrived at the end of the hall, but without any hesitation their leader continued through a doorway as the wall marking the end of the passageway dissolved into nothingness. Mulder and his guardians entered a vast, dimly illuminated area. Fox had no visual evidence that there was even a ceiling or walls to the environment, but he sensed with certainty that it was enclosed. There was a finite but invisible boundary to where he was, and what would happen there.
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Fox Mulder's dreaming mind took in the sensation of Marvin's metal claw grasping the buttons at his fly and, one by one, freeing them. Mulder's eager prick, aroused from the intense images assaulting the young man's subconscious, sprang through the opening in the snug 501s, searching for whatever it could find in its freedom.

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Fox waited silently with his accompaniment, desperately wondering why he had been brought here but not daring to speak or move. Then footsteps echoed as they approached the group. Mulder could see nothing outside of the faint circle of light around him, cast from somewhere overhead by an undetectable source.

The footsteps were gradually met by the sound of vague voices, whispers of countless beings in no known language, but Mulder understood every word.

"The human looks tasty."

"He will be a delight."

"I've never had a human to play with. Are they fun?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure this one will be."

Fox froze in place as he listened to the comments, feeling like a rare bug being studied in a jar. Or a prized orchid put on display for all to admire. He wasn't quite sure which.

Finally the footsteps stopped, and Fox noticed a perfect circle of beings had formed around him, edging the barrier of the spotlight on the ground.

His dark-robed companions must have stepped back to join them, Fox thought, because they suddenly were not flanking him so closely at four sides. All were stationed just outside the ring of light, Mulder standing alone in the center.

Fox turned slowly around, peering into the darkness around him, only able to make out the bottom halves of the grey forms surrounding him.

The rumbling talk halted as Fox completed a full turn. After an uncomfortable stretch of absolute silence, a voice broke through in clearly audible English.

"Stand still, Boy," it boomed. This one was undoubtedly male, Fox noticed.

Fox complied without a moment's thought of disobedience. His entire body tingled with fear and anticipation, instilled immediately by the indisputable authority of the leader's voice.

"Get those damn clothes off him," the faceless voice said. Mulder was momentarily puzzled that this alien being would say such a thing as "damn", but he figured it was his mind's interpretation of the alien language.

Fox remembered the warning to stand still, but was tempted to flee when he saw what he could only describe as tentacles reach out to him from the dark ring. A half dozen tentacles to be exact, although Fox could only see the three approaching him in front. Each was about the same thickness as a man's wrist, not tapering at all, but apparently able to flatten out at will.

Instead of following the impulse to run, his trembling increased with his attempts to control himself. His tensing throat let out a faint, high-pitched whimper as one of the unseen snake-like appendages from behind him slid across the nape of his neck.

It and another two from in front of him managed - with amazing dexterity for tentacles - to remove Fox's T-shirt: one advertising the ivy-covered University to which his parents had sent him. The snaking arm in the rear slid down and under the back of his collar to somehow hook onto the crewneck, while the other two wormed their ways under the cotton fabric in front, tickling his bare stomach. The three of them worked together to peel the shirt up and off the young man, tossing the garment away and out of sight, leaving Mulder now half naked in the center ring of light.

As Fox shivered to adjust to the cold air on his naked flesh, an unexpected action made him gasp sharply. Surprising him into near panic, another of the tentacles behind him wrapped itself around his neck; not tightly, but enough to ensure he would remain there, standing steadily inside the ring.

Reflexively, Fox reached up to grasp the rope of muscular flesh threatening to choke him. Just as his palms felt the slick, leathery texture, two other tentacles whipped forward to wrap around his wrists, yanking them away. Fox's arms were instantaneously stretched straight out to either side, the owners of the tentacles that held him remaining unseen in the darkness. Mulder began to genuinely panic now, but he had no way of resisting even if he wanted to. His prick throbbed harder with the excitement of the moment. He struggled to free his arms, pulling at the coils around his wrists but unable to budge them an inch. As Mulder fought hard against the first three tentacles holding his upper half, two more leathery limbs reached out to wrap around his ankles, spreading his legs wide.

"Good, good....Now, get the pants open. The pants!" the booming voice insisted.

The last arm moved into action, slipping under the back of Fox's jeans' and boxers' waistbands and ingratiating itself with his spread cleft.

Mulder's struggling slowed as his mind took in the sensations below, making him gasp continuously. As if his jeans hadn't been stretched already with his own engorged trouser snake, now this arm of some unseen being was sliding over his crotch. The warmth of the alien's blood radiating through the skin of the limb, which pressed into Mulder's body from the beginning of his crack and over his sac, separating his heavy balls. The end of the intrusive serpent coiled once around his stiff prick as it sought the top of the young man's fly. It found it, and in a sudden burst of strength ripped through the opening, sending buttons stamped with "Levi Strauss" flying left and right to ping on the ground. Another burst of energy, and the tentacle whipped downward, loudly tearing the crotch seam from the bottom of the fly all the way to the back belt loops, along with ripping the thin material of his cotton boxers.

It's job of baring the young man's genitals and buttcrack done, the tentacle immediately returned to jealously guard what it had uncovered before Mulder's sensitive skin could even register the cold draft that had hit it.

While Fox's brain was wrapping itself around the concept of what was happening with his jeans, the two limbs holding his ankles apart lifted his feet off the ground. Each tentacle worked in voiceless coordination to put Mulder's body in a horizontal, spreadeagled position four feet above the spotlight he'd been standing in.

Although he still couldn't see the source of the light, he had to shut his eyes tightly in the brightness. Possibly reading his mind, the tentacle that had wrapped around his neck slid and extended upward, keeping the throat encircled, but managing to stretch up and encircle his head as well, flattening itself and serving as an effective yet fleshy blindfold. The world was completely dark to Fox now, and his suspended position mixed with this fact to disorient him completely.

"Hey!" Fox exclaimed at last, finally finding something that could pass as a word in the midst of this breathtaking experience. The original directive to not say a word was apparently taken quite seriously, as the blindfolding tentacle made another stretch to wrap across the young man's mouth, muffling whatever other words he may have said.

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Chapter 12: Of Moles and Men
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Back on the bridge...
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Trillian fiddled with several of the high-tech spaceship's controls, looking flustered.

"Dammit, something's wrong with the navigation system," she said, not bothering to look around to Zaphod or Ford. "We're staying on course, but we seem to be taking a roundabout way to our destination."

'Well, what does Eddie have to say?" Ford asked, looking up from his game of spades with Zaphod. The deck of cards and the game were Ford's most prized mementos of the destroyed Earth experiment.

"He doesn't exactly respond to my inquiries," Trillian said. 'I know he's there, but all I get from him is a strange sound...I know this is weird, but it's like he's...he's breathing heavily."

"What?" Zaphod said, throwing down a trump card. Two of his arms and the more intelligent head kept busy with the game, as the rest of him gave Trillian's technical problems full attention.

"I said, Eddie sounds like he's breathing heavily. Listen to this," Trillian said, turning a knob to increase the volume of the communications link with the computer.

All three listened with interest at the dry, raspy "breathing" they heard coming from the computer.

"Have you tried contacting Marvin?" Ford suggested, knowing that Marvin and Eddie usually knew what the other was doing at all times, despite the general hate/hate relationship the two artificial intelligences had.

"Uh, no," Trillian said. "I was hoping I could avoid that. There's no real danger from our erratic course; it's just going to take much longer to get home."

All three agreed it was usually better to leave Marvin alone when they were lucky enough to not have the depressive robot in their presence. He had a way of putting everyone on edge, even though he was frequently instrumental in getting the threesome out of difficult scrapes.

"I know, Trill, it's been nice having a break from the Metal Man here, but I think it would be wise to see what Marvin knows about Eddie," Ford advised, getting up from his lost game and walking over to the controls where Trillian continued to try every remedy she could think of to override Eddie's navigational system. "After all, what if Eddie's wiring is shorting out, and we end up spinning out of control, we crash into a lifeless moon somewhere, and end up asphyxiating in space and..."

"Oh, Ford, I never thought of you as a 'glass is half empty' kind of guy," Trillian interrupted.

"When my glass is half empty, I ask for a refill, you know that," Ford said, not understanding the Earth idiom.

Trillian sighed and hit the button to page Marvin. "Marvin, where are you?" she beckoned into the speaker. The bridge speaker brought back the sound of more panting, this time with a slightly metallic echo to it.

"Marvin?? Marvin!!??" Trillian repeated, unable to imagine what could be possibly wrong with their two cyber associates. She tried to ignore the sounds Marvin was making.

"Marvin, listen to me. There's some problem with our navigational system. Eddie's...Eddie is malfunctioning, somehow, and we need you to fix him."

The sounds of irregular respiration paused. "Hello, there, Doll," something reminiscent of Marvin's voice brought back. "Eddie is fine...I'm fine...we're aaaaalllll just fiiiiiiine." Trillian's jaw dropped. "Marvin???"

In the background over the intercom, all three on the bridge could make out the sound of more heavy breathing - this time, though, the sound had definite organic qualities to it. When the third soundmaker cried out "Hey!" and was immediately muffled, they knew who it must be. The new monkeyman.

Zaphod finally got up from his comfortable bridge chair, collected his winnings from the table, and went over to his companions. "Come on, Ford, let's go look for Marvin and that Mulder dude," Zaphod said, slapping his semi-cousin on the shoulder. He then looked to Trillian, who was in a state of shock. "Can you tell where Marvin is?"

Trillian snapped out of it well enough to input the right inquiry into the computer. The computer that was maintained by Eddie.

"It's not telling me anything," Trillian said frustration showing. "But...but I can see that the door to the sleeping quarters has been locked. Maybe Marvin took our guest there...but why would he lock it?"

"Don't you worry, Trill, we'll find out what's going on," Zaphod said, and pulled Ford through the doorway of the bridge with him.

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Back in the sleeping quarters
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Fox was amazed that the aliens managed to hold his entire body effectively suspended in five-point restraints without ripping him apart. Blind and mute now, he could still hear the murmur of the circle of beings around him grow and intensify. He couldn't make out anything they were saying, but he sensed it was mostly a lustful appreciation for what they saw in the arena of light.

His amazement at this feat ceased when the snake-like arm at his crotch moved from covering him like a living loincloth. He could get the full effect of the cold air caressing his spread crack and exposed, throbbing genitals as the tentacle lifted up and positioned itself at the entrance to his hole. Mulder struggled anew, more fruitlessly than ever now that he was tethered completely off the ground. Despite his energetic show, he also yearned for what was to come. For alien invasion and erotic release.

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On the way from the bridge
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"So, what do you think is going on with Marvin, Eddie, and the lad from Earth?" Ford asked Zaphod as he hurried to keep up with his cousin's longer strides.

Zaphod stopped and turned one head to his friend, while the other kept watch down the hall in case Trillian came by. "Hey, Ford, my man, I've got a feeling about this monkeyman Fox, but I didn't want to say anything in front of Trill," he said. "You know how...uh... colorful she thinks I am already. If she heard my theory on this..."

"What is it?" Ford asked, wondering if Zaphod could be serious about anything for once.

Zaphod dropped his voice to a half-whisper. "Didn't you get a look at the mole on that guy's face?"

"What?" Ford asked, completely perplexed. "I know moles are rare these days, but this guy's from..." Ford suddenly remembered a subcultural custom that had originated in the Eroticon system that involved the implanting of moles to indicate various of the kinkier sexual appetites.

Moles, or birthmarks, had been genetically eradicated in most cultures centuries ago, but certain members of the sexual underworld had taken to intentionally implanting moles of various colors in various parts of their bodies to advertize their erotic tastes. They had even developed a code to be able to read what birthmark meant what.

Realizing what Zaphod was suggesting, Ford reached into the ever-present brown leather, battered satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out his copy of the guide. He punched in for the entry on what was known as The Mole Code, and glanced through a few of the entries.

"THE MOLE CODE

NOTE: All anatomical references are, of course, approximate and relative to variations from one species to the next.

Placement on left side indicates a preference toward being the giver of such sexual favors; the right side indicates preferring to receive.

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POSITION / COLOR / MEANING
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knee / yellow / Is into watersports with religious figures.
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elbow / red / Turned on by bloody noses caused by elbows shoved into the face.
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buttock / brown / Enjoys artistic expression in fecal smearing before, during, and/or after sex. Some even manage award-winning self portraits when the sex is really good.
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chest / purple / Sexual hobby is seeing how much weight can be hung from nipple rings. Extremists go for how many people can be suspended by them.
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hand /black and blue/ Likes to spank/be spanked, but only with open palm and while self and partner are pretending to be blood related."
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Ford's scanning eyes finally found the entry that described the Mulder lad's type of birthmark. It was by far the longest:

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"cheek / brown / Lives for group orgies; non- discriminating of gender, age, species or personality of partner(s); likes it rough and kinkier than a 10-Unidollar HeeShee whore, involving lots of leather, rubber, vinyl, metal, oils, adhesives, balsa wood... basically, this person is the sluttiest type of sentient being in the Universe. Has a special preference for same-sex partners with little hair and/or green eyes."

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Ford re-read the passage and tried to imagine the young Mulder possibly being so lust-filled and degenerate. Sure, he had met the boy naked on a tombstone with another naked body wrapped around him, but somehow the kid seemed innocent to Ford. Could this possibly be the young man's destiny?

Ford looked up from the Guide's screen and showed his confusion to Zaphod's left face. Then he tried the right face. Both only grinned at him mischievously.

"Oh frood, cousin, we're going to have one Hell of a time with that pervy Earthling when we get to Eroticon!" Zaphod's first face said, the other head nodding and winking knowingly.

"But Zaphod....this Mulder is human, from 20th century Earth," Ford protested. "He didn't have that mole surgically implanted; he was *born* with it!"

Zaphod nodded some more, having apparently thought of this already. "I know, Ford; that's what makes it so great!"

"What do you mean?"

Zaphod's enthusiasm for his discovery could not be hidden. "You said it yourself, cuz...the monkeyman was born with it. Don't you see it, dude?"

He watched as Ford's face showed no less confusion than before.

"The guy's a natural!"

They continued down the hall to see what the left cheek brown-moled young human was up to with their robot and their navigational system. Nothing that would short out any circuits permanently, they hoped.

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In the sleeping quarters
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Mulder's eyelids fluttered open. He was surprised to find himself not back in the dark arena from his dream, but laying on a cot in the brightly-lit room where he had awakened earlier. He blinked a few times more to see Marvin's form come into focus, standing over him in an apparent watchful vigil.

Marvin's temporary cyber-drug was almost completely worn off, but the robot had a clear memory of the interesting liberties he'd taken with the young human while Fox had been unconscious on the cot. If it were possible for Marvin's face to simulate it, he would have smiled. Then, he faded back to his old self.

"Oh, you're awake again," the robot said, sarcasm returning full force. "Oh, joy, I'll notify the newspapers."

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Outside the door
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The pair had finally reached the sealed door to the ship's sleeping quarters. Seeing it still wouldn't open, Zaphod pounded high and Ford load as they tried to get someone from inside to open it.

"Marvin! Open up!" they both yelled as they beat their fists on the door.

"Marvin...I have a nice bucket of water for you if you're feeling down," Zaphod tempted.

His fist growing numb, Ford stopped and raised a hand to tell Zaphod to be quiet. He put an ear to the door. At that moment, he heard their young passenger scream.

The cousins exchanged knowing glances. "That wasn't a scared scream, was it?" Ford asked, knowing the answer.

Zaphod's two heads shook. "That wasn't a pained scream, was it?" he asked. Ford's head shook as well.

Both knew just what kind of scream it was, and instantly felt jealous of the young Earthling who had been moved to make it.

Ford looked at the sealed doorway and began pounding again. "Hey, Fox! Hey, Marvin! Come on, open up! We have to get to Eroticon 42 sometime this century, and if we don't get Eddie working again, we'll all be too old to enjoy it when we get there!"

Surprising both Zaphod and the pounding Ford, the door suddenly whooshed open to reveal Marvin standing in the doorway, with young Mulder behind him, sitting on the edge of a cot. He looked up, weariness showing through, but looking truly happy for the first time since Ford had met him.

*****

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