Unnatural Desire

Krycek slammed the door behind him as he walked into the latest in a long string of seedy motel rooms. He slung his leather jacket over the worn and stained sofa and deposited the fifth of vodka he's just purchased at the corner liquor store on top of the tv.

He stepped into the bathroom and rinsed the sweat and grime of another job well done from his face and hands. When he was finished he noticed that the water didn't run clear, but rather a little brown and with a slightly foul smell.

<Fuck!>

Krycek had more money than he knew what to do with at this point in his life and he still had to live in shitholes like this one for fear of anyone taking notice and maybe deciding to do a little digging into his finances or his police record.

He returned to the bedroom and flicked on the television, grabbed the bottle of alcohol and collapsed on the sagging, lumpy bed. It took a supreme effort to block from his mind the fantasies of all the myriad sex acts that must have taken place on this bed over the years to leave it in such a state. He had contributed to its demise himself in the few weeks he had been here. Not tonight though, tonight he had other plans.

Krycek had just settled into a comfortable position, taken a long swig of vodka straight from the bottle, and found a rerun of his favorite show -- Baywatch -- when he heard a thumping and rustling sound coming from the closet.

He slid silently from the bed and drew his gun from the waist band of his jeans. He pressed himself as closely as possible to the wall next to the closet door, and then flung the door wide, quickly peering inside and then pulling his body back from the line of fire.

What he saw crouched in the bottom of the closet made his heart stop for a moment until his brain had a chance to catch up. Mulder, handcuffed and crouched on the floor, looked up at him beseechingly.

"Oh, its you," Krycek said, bored, as he returned his gun to its customary location and stood away from the wall. "Look, no offense, but I'm just not in the mood for this tonight."

Mulder looked disappointed for a moment and then something strange started to happen. Mulder's brown hair, hazel eyes and full lower lip, morphed into a exact replica of Scully, complete with black lace bra peeking through her ripped blouse.

Scully rose from the floor of the closet and stalked Krycek into the room, her eyes raking his body from head to toe with a rather long and lingering glance given to the snap of his jeans.

Scully licked her red lips, "Are you in the mood for me?"

Krycek had to swallow hard before he could answer, "Look, I'm just really tired tonight, maybe tomorrow..."

But before he could finish, Scully's petite feminine body had morphed into something almost twice as large and with less than half the hair.

"Get on your knees, boy," Skinner growled.

"Uh, I'd really rather not," Krycek mumbled, but Skinner ignored his protests, grabbed Krycek by the arm and dragged him to his knees. While holding him there with one hand, Skinner went to work on his own belt and zipper with the other hand.

But before Skinner could claim his trophy, Krycek wrenched his body away and half-crawled, half-ran to the opposite corner of the room.

"I said no!" Krycek insisted.

Skinner quickly morphed into Marita, cool and aloof in a white silk robe. Krycek shook his head.

Marita became Spender junior, nervous and anxious to please. No.

Spender senior, cold and sadistic. The odor of nicotine filled the room.

"No!" Krycek shouted.

After Spender senior came Pendrell, then Byers, then Langly, then Frohike.

No, no, no, no Krycek insisted.

Diana Fowley, became Melissa Scully, become Phoebe Green, who morphed into the Well Manicured Man.

"No," Krycek sobbed.

"Then who would you like tonight, Alex," the cultured British voice asked him.

"No one!" Krycek shouted. "I've been busy killing people all day and now I'm tired and I just want to get drunk, pass out and not wake up until next week, ok?"

"The Consortium just wants you to be happy Alex," the Brit assured him. "You're one of their most valuable assets. Just tell me who you want tonight?"

"Don't you understand? I've already done everyone and everything. Twice! And none of it turns me on anymore! Now get the fuck out," Krycek practically screamed as he collapsed sobbing onto the bed.

As he lay there shoulders hunched and trembling with tears, Krycek felt firm hands begin to massage his tense flesh. He shuddered and pressed his face more tightly into the musty pillow. He was afraid to see what form the shapeshifter would take next.

But the massage was beginning to have its intended effect. In spite of himself Krycek found his tense muscles relaxing. He stretched out more fully and the hands which up until now had been focusing on his shoulders and arms moved lower to caress his lower back and ass.

Krycek turned his head to the side so he could watch tv. He was disappointed to find that Baywatch was over, but when he saw what was coming on next he was elated. His favorite movie, a cinematic tour de force as far as he was concerned -- Barb Wire.

"You said I could have anyone, right?" Krycek asked.

"Yes, of course, Alex," the British accent assured him.

"Ok, then, I want her," Krycek said turning on his side and pointing to the tv.

"Her?" the Well Manicured Man turned and questioned from his position on the bed, straddling Krycek's thighs.

Krycek nodded happily.

"The blonde with the big..." the other man said unable to believe it.

"Breasts," Krycek confirmed.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have me?" asked Mulder, who was now kneeling on the bed over Krycek dangling a pair of handcuffs. "I do bondage ya know?"

Krycek shook his head and Mulder morphed into Scully once more.

"How about me, Krycek?" Scully asked. "A nice little rape fantasy is always entertaining."

Krycek shook his head again and Scully morphed into Skinner.

"Looks like you're in need of a little discipline, boy," Skinner said.

Krycek continued to shake his head.

"It's no good," Krycek told Skinner, pointing once more at the tv. "Her...I want her."

Krycek watched as Skinner's chest began to fill out and brassy blonde hair began to grow on his head. It was truly grotesque, but over in seconds, and when it was, Krycek found his dream girl kneeling over his body on his ratty hotel bed.

<Cool!>

"Is there anything in particular you like," she asked breathlessly.

"Missionary position, now," Krycek growled.

<It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it,> Krycek thought to himself with a grin as he rolled and pressed her body into the bed with his own.

<And the perks were, well...more than ample.>