The sunlight pinged off the diamond stud in the man's ear.  The pungent, sharp smell of new leather was everywhere, seemingly crawling right into the pores of his skin.  The constant hum of the air conditioner, protecting this store from the cruel D.C. summer, was loud in Mulder's ear.
    "But Sir, are you sure about this?" The man's sing-song voice was beginning to get on Fox's nerves.  "These pants are at least two sizes too s...."
    Fox cut him off sharply, "They're the ones I ordered.  They're the ones I want."
    The man admitted defeat.  He passed the pants to Fox—jet-black calfskin.  The clerk eyed them jealously and wondered if he'd really miss the three weeks', miserable salary he earned in this place it would cost to get himself a pair.  He idly thought of the necessities of life such as food and shelter, and let that thought slip quickly from his mind.
    Fox brought the pants to his nose and sniffed copiously.  He loved the smell of new leather and he'd love the way he'd smell when wearing his new clothes.   The only problem was how he was going to get them on.
    He looked at the clerk. The clerk looked at the pants.  The clerk looked back at Mulder and sighed.
    "Changing room—over there to your right.  Would you like some help getting into those?"
    Fox smirked at him, not exactly pleasantly, but the man got the message.
    Throwing open the door to the changing room, they both entered.  Fox was quick to strip himself of his jeans and pass them to the clerk, who hung them up on the nearest hook.  What surprised him the most was that his customer wore no underwear.  He looked at that prodigious appendage hanging between his customer's legs, slightly to the left, and he thought, with some acerbity, that some people are born rich and others are born smart—but some people are just born lucky.
    "You're going to make somebody happy tonight, aren't you?"
    Mulder didn't grace him with a reply.
    The expression on the clerk's face wasn't quite smug as Fox sat himself down on the bench, lifted one of his legs, and brought it toward the pants he held in his hands.  The clerk just clucked.  His expression turned almost to mirth as he shook his head back and forth.
    "Mr. Mulder, that will never work."
    "Why not?" Fox said with the slightest tinge of annoyance.
    "The pants are too sizes too s... " His voice just faded away.  "You'll have to lie on the floor, and we'll have to pull them up that way. "
    Fox looked down at the white Tee shirt he was wearing, and his eyes traveled to the floor, noting the state of its cleanliness. Mulder did what he was told, reluctantly, taking off his Tee and placing it on the bench he had just vacated.
    The clerk motioned to Mulder's feet and he elevated them, just a bit, allowing the man to slip the pants up to Mulder's knees.  He came around behind Fox then, knelt down, bracing his knees behind Mulder's shoulders.  Fox wasn't comfortable with this—didn't like it at all—it felt too suggestive, somehow.
    The clerk stretched himself over Mulder's body and grasped the pants.  "Lift up your behind," he said.
    Mulder felt even more uncomfortable now, with the clerk's head only feet— inches—from his cock, but he did as he was asked, telling himself—and even he could hear the uncertainty in his mind—that this would be over soon.
    The clerk didn't speak, but he looked like this was something he was called upon to do every day, and Mulder closed his eyes in embarrassment.  All Mulder could hear were grunts and the heavy berating of the assistant as he bent to his task.
    "This is not going to work, Mr. Mulder," he said.
Fox opened his eyes and looked down.  The pants were stuck—stuck just above his knees—and they wouldn't budge another inch, not even when Mulder added his efforts to the clerk's.  Mulder's body was coated with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat in the room, from his embarrassment, from the abject mortification he felt in this position.
    This is going to be a two-man job," the clerk said, throwing a questioning look at the agent.  "Do you mind?"
    Mulder shook his head.
    "Anthony...Anthony," the clerk called to another of the assistants.  "Can you come here for a minute?"
    The man lying on his back on the floor thought that nothing could increase his embarrassment, but he was wrong.  His olive skin was taking on a little blush as the other clerk knocked on the door.  He opened it without waiting for an answer.  In extreme moments like this, Mulder's mind made amazing leaps; he remembered a little poem he heard years ago: 'The chambermaids who work in Rome are very hard to shock, they wait until you're naked, then they enter, then they knock*'.  Despite himself, he had to chuckle.
    "Anthony, good, we have a...little problem," the clerk chuckled.
    Fox wished he had his gun so he could wipe the smirk off Anthony's face.
    "Yes, I see you do," Anthony said.
    The two men just smirked at each other, and turned as one to Fox and said, "Here's the plan: you put your hands around the zipper area...to protect your assets—zippers cause such a nasty burn, and Anthony and I will get on either side of you and try to pull them up.  So now lift your ass!"
    Mulder imagined what he must have looked like on the floor: naked, pants down around his knees, both hands trying to cover himself like some shy adolescent just caught masturbating in the woods by the girl next door.  No matter what he did, he couldn't completely cover himself, a little hairy flesh of his sack seeping out between his fingers, the head of his cock trying to march its way out from between his palms.  He wasn't shopping, he was in hell.
    Fox was mortified, but followed instructions.  He couldn't look; he just closed his eyes and waited, and waited, hearing only the sounds of exertion of the other two men, until all at once he felt the cool leather cover his ass. He yelped when the zipper scraped over his hands; it nipped the flesh of his sack sticking out through his fingers, tearing a few hairs from him as it went.
    Now Mulder wished he was dead as he felt the hot, sweaty hand of the clerk slap his own hands away from his cock. Offending digits lifted him, just like they had a perfect right to do so, his other hand taking his balls and squeezing the orbs of his testicles around the base of his cock.  Pushing and prodding him, stretching his assets to impossible lengths, the clerk was grunting with the effort of getting those things inside the pants.  For the first time Fox did think that maybe he had made a mistake: two sizes too small might have been carrying this a little too far.  He felt himself being squeezed, compressed and pulled down with a touch way too intimate for the agent's liking. Finally, the clerk found success and Fox felt the cool kiss of the leather against his abused flesh.
    "Suck it in, Mr. Mulder," the clerk said in that detested sing-song voice.
    The smell of sweat and leather mixing—a heady combination—was assailing Mulder's senses as he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled up, and he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
    The clerk was panting heavily from his exertions or from the sight of his customer encased in leather.  Could have been either, or a combination of both.  "All done, Mr. Mulder," he said but he couldn't drag his eyes away from the man.
    Fox tried to raise himself from the floor, slowly, but found he could not—the leather covering his knees just wouldn't cooperate, just wouldn't bend to his desire.  The clerks recognized his predicament immediately and rushed to his assistance.  Each taking a separate arm, they hoisted him to his feet.
    The leather was so tight, so constricting.  He could feel the seams pressing against his balls—slightly annoying and almost painful.  This auto-eroticism was not lost on him and his cock started to react.  He willed himself quiet.  He stood at his full length and rubbed his hands over his thighs; the pants were so snug, so clinging, that he couldn't figure out where he ended and the pants began.  He felt so damned sexy; the soft, subtle feel of the leather under his hands; each place he rubbed released more of the leather's aroma into the air, each new burst of smell assailing his senses anew.  The leather seemed to be caressing him, changing its shape to conform to his contours.  It felt like a lover's embrace.  He silently wondered why he had waited so long to make this purchase.
    As he turned to look at the clerk, he felt the leather molding to his ass, the seam separating his cleft and settling against his anus.  A new blush came to his face.
    "Sir, you look fantastic!" Anthony turned to look at his associate as though looking for agreement.  That agreement was there, in an instant.
    "You certainly do, Mr. Mulder," the nameless clerk agreed.
    Fox looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror behind Anthony.  He was pleased with what he saw.  The leather was so black, so soft, and so tight against his skin, he could see the mushroom shape of the head of his cock.  This time he wasn't embarrassed just supremely pleased.   Although he couldn't see it, the pants draped so tightly over his behind that the clerks would swear that they could almost count each individual hair covering his butt. An entirely pleasing effect.
    "Thanks, boys, for all your help," he said as he turned to leave.
    "Mr. Mulder, your shirt!" Anthony picked it up from the bench where Fox had thrown it and tossed it to him.
    Fox caught the shirt easily and looked at it in his hands as though deciding just what to do with it.  To the surprise of both the clerks, Mulder didn't put it on. Instead he just wedged it into the back pocket of his pants, letting a good part of it hang down his ass.
    Both clerks' eyebrows raised in surprise, simultaneously.
    "Your pants, too, Sir," they chimed in unison.
    "No, you keep them—throw them out, give them to charity, whatever.  And thanks again."  Fox favoured them with one of his gut-wrenching smiles—as if they weren't already putty in his hands—and left the room.
    The clerks followed him out and stood at the cash register and watched the shop door close behind him. "That man has one sweet ass," Anthony said.
    The other clerk shook his head in complete agreement.  "How far do you think he'll get, dressed like that?"  The leer on his face showed just what he thought Mulder's chances were.
    "In this neighbourhood," Anthony chuckled, "one block, maybe two, and someone's going to drag him into some dark alley and treat that ass the way it should be treated."
    They both laughed, returning to their duties of sorting clothing and keeping an eye out for new commissions.
 

Assistant Director Walter S Skinner sat on his leather couch, bare-chested—a small concession to the heat of the day.  His air conditioner wasn't keeping up.  The mat of silver gray hair covering his massive upper body was beaded with sweat. Even his large, chestnut brown nipples were glistening with a slight covering of moisture.
    Walter's glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose, the result of trying of straighten up the kitchen, and the effort that took even made his nose sweat.  He pushed them back up absentmindedly.  His chest heaved with the effort it took to breathe in this heat.
    Skinner, usually a coffee man, had conceded to the day's god-awful heat and changed his drink of choice.  He raised the glass of iced tea with lemon to his lips, took a huge gulp and sighed his relief.  The look of pleasure on his face soon changed to one of annoyance with the sounding of the doorbell.
    Reluctantly, he hoisted his huge frame from the couch and answered its call.
    He opened the door just as his agent had raised his hand to knock.  The first thing he noticed was the hair.  Fox was usually so vain about his hair. It was always so superbly coifed—well except for that fashion faux pas of the buzz cut—but now it was soaked with sweat, plastered to his head.  His chest was bare, again quite surprising to Walter, and covered with sweat, glistening as though it was oiled.  Skinner's breath, quite literally, caught in his throat.  But  most surprising of all was Fox's pants—stretched to their limits with the way he was leaning seductively in the doorway—revealing everything he possessed.  Walter's cock twitched.
    The AD reached out to wipe some of the sweat from Mulder's brow and pushed some of the hair out of the man's eyes.  "You're late."  It was not an accusation, just a statement of fact.
    "I got...I got tied up," Fox replied in a small voice.
    "Dressed like that, I'm not surprised."
    Fox smiled at that and chuckled softly.  He felt relieved—he didn't know, for sure, how his lover would respond to his surprise.  He knew now, just from the gleam in Walter's eye.
    Walter moved away from the door to allow Mulder to come in, and as Fox passed him, he placed a huge hand over the agent's ass, squeezing lightly.
    He closed the door with a loud bang and turned to his lover. Taking Fox by the waist, Walter embraced him, sweat-covered chests and groins meeting, pressing, and grinding.  As Fox fused his body to his lover's, he firmly plating his knee between Walter's legs. The AD took him in a kiss, an Olympian kiss, a world-class, a soul-searing kiss.  His mind dissolved when Skinner stuck his tongue in his mouth and Fox tasted the acid-sweet flavour of the lemon.  They both moaned in unison as Mulder sucked that tongue into his mouth for all he was worth.  Mulder groaned anew when Skinner rubbed his hand over his crotch, bringing him, as much as he was able in these pants, to life.
    Their mouths disengaged, finally, and Fox lay his head on Walter's shoulder, his body still hugging him.  Walter kissed his ear and said in a low, sultry voice: "Beautiful."
    "What."
    "Beautiful," Walter said slightly louder.  "Those pants look great on you."  He rubbed both hands over Mulder's ass.  "But I have to say, " Skinner teased, "they feel better."
    Walter pushed him away for one more glance.  Mulder, with his sultry look, his kiss-swollen full lips and his incipient erection, appeared to be a man who needed to be fucked.  "Yep," Walter continued, "beautiful."
    Mulder's skin flushed just a little again.
    "Sit on the couch," Skinner told him, "I have to go to the bedroom for a minute. I'll be right back."
    Fox tried to sit, but with the tightness of his new pants and the added pressure of a half-swollen cock, he wasn't able.  So he threw dignity to the wind and just flopped, bouncing slightly when he landed.  He spied Skinner's drink on the coffee table and sneakily brought the glass to his mouth to steal a sip.  When the cool, sweet liquid rolled over his tongue and slid down his throat, he closed his eyes in pleasure; he hadn't realized how thirsty he was.  He looked around the room, wondering what was taking Walter so long. He was relieved when he heard the heavy footfalls on the stairway and looked up to see his man.
    Fox's jaw dropped to his chest when he saw what Walter was wearing, or rather, what Walter wasn't wearing.  He was dressed only in a tiny leather vest, and a set of chaps, and nothing else, his assets open to full view and appreciation, carrying a bottle of oil and wearing a huge, come-hither smile.
    "Good leather, Mulder, requires the right preparation.  Treat it right, and it will last you a lifetime."  Walter's lecherous smile ratcheted this seduction up a notch or two.  He opened his hand and poured a large amount of oil in his palm.  He rolled it around a little bit, warming it up, and rubbed it into his vest unit it glistened, soft and supple.  He moved his and over a bit, and smeared the remainder of the oil onto his own chest, rubbing it in, slowly and seductively, until he moaned.
    "Such a little thing, Fox.  Cheap.  Easy.  Doesn't take any time at all." He never took his eyes from Mulder for one single moment.
    Fox was speechless, just staring at his lover like he was lunch and Mulder was a starving man.
    Skinner took the bottle, tipped it slightly, and dribbled the slippery liquid down the side of his chaps.  He bent quickly before the oil reached the floor and rubbed his hand the entire length of the chaps, working the oil into the thirsty leather.  He raised his face up a bit and smiled at Fox.  He moved his oil-slicked hand to his own cock, coating it and his balls with the liquid.  Reaching under himself, he stretched his hand as far back as he could reach to rub the oil into his own ass.  He groaned loudly as his cock responded and brought itself to its always astounding size.
    "And there are...added side benefits," he whispered to his lover.
    Fox's mouth went suddenly dry.  His tongue felt thick and heavy, its texture like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth.  He tried to lick his lips in appreciation of the sight before him, but found he could not – his mouth didn't even have enough moisture for that.  He reached out and took another sip of the iced tea.
    "Jesus, Walt!"
    Skinner chuckled as he raised himself to his full height and advanced on Fox.  "Shall I teach you about these side benefits?" he mock asked.  "Shall I teach you how to take care of those pants?"  Skinner didn't wait for an answer; he just stared into the depths of the hazel eyes before him.  He noticed Fox's increasingly heavy breathing, he could almost see the vein in his neck pulse. He could certainly see the vain attempt of Fox's cock to swell and lengthen in the tight confines of his pants.
    Fox couldn't speak—not if his life depended on it—and it very well might have.
    "Yes, " Skinner continued, "I think I shall."
    Walter dribbled a little of the oil on Fox's thigh and began a slow, deliberate massage of the leather, rubbing from the knee all the way up to the band at the waist.  He dribbled more oil on the other leg, giving it the same treatment.  Putting the bottle on the coffee table, he stepped between Mulder's open legs, put a hand on each thigh and dipped in for a thorough taste of Fox's mouth. Meanwhile, his fingers continued their seductive dance along his lover's legs.  Both hands meeting, occasionally, in the vicinity of Mulder's aching groin, rubbing the oil into the crotch, feeling Mulder's attempts to move into his touch.
    "See how easy it is to take care of fine leather products?" in a voice as smooth and deliberate as silk on silk.  "No trouble at all," he said as his oil-soaked hands reached up to his lover's chest and massaged the oil into his flesh.  "It feels good too."
    "Oh, it feels good!" Mulder finally was able to discover speech.
    Skinner laughed, that low, rumbling laughter that only large men can achieve.  "Roll over, Mulder. I'll do the back."
    "But the couch, Walter."
    "Don't worry about that.  It's leather, remember.  It'll enjoy this too. "
    Skinner took Mulder by the armpits and lifted him to his feet.  Turning him around, he helped him lay flat on this stomach then pushed Fox's legs together slightly and straddled him.  Mulder groaned when his partially engorged, over-sensitized cock was pushed into the soft leather cushions beneath him.  He rutted into them, seeking the friction he needed, but so far today had been denied him.  Above him, Walter laughed, and with a malicious grin reached for the oil.
    Fox let out a moan when the oil, now warmed from the heat of the room, dribbled down his back, not on his pants as he expected.  Walter's large hands began their attack on his flesh, stroking tense muscles, smoothing knots out of Fox's shoulders.  Under his hands, Fox physically relaxed, almost purred with contentment, as Walter reached further and further down his lover's back.  He shifted his ass a bit down Mulder's legs, and Fox moaned again from the different pressure on his cock.
    Skinner poured a copious amount of oil on Mulder's ass and began to work the warm liquid into the leather.  Mulder sighed when Walter's fingers raked down the leather seam lying directly in his cleft.  He moaned again when his boss's hand reached all the way down to rub against his heavy balls hanging trapped in the pants.  Walter's hands rubbed their way back the way they came, and Fox simply whimpered.
    Skinner got off him then, noting the expected state of his own arousal, the tip of his cock purple with blood and need.  His own slimy moisture forcing its way out of the head of his cock.  He poured oil onto Mulder's thighs and further down the pants, and quickly worked the oil into the leather, enjoying the sound of his lover's almost constant, pitiful need.
    He bent over quickly and kissed Mulder's neck and nuzzled his ear.  "How you doing?" he asked, solicitously.
    Mulder looked into the deep chocolate pools, that were his lover's eyes, and smiled lightly. "I'm dying here, Walt!"
    "Not for much longer, Fox, you'll be taken care of.  But now, we have to do the front of your legs ."
    Skinner knew that his lover probably couldn't move that far, so he took him under the arms again and lifted him to a standing position. When he pushed slightly on Fox's chest with his fingertips, the younger man fell back into a sitting position once again.
    Fox was slightly amazed, looking at his lover again, in that state, in that state of arousal—arousal just for him.  He reached out and slid his hand around his lover's cock and rubbed softly.  Skinner hissed his pleasure.
    The bigger man moved out of Fox's reach, took the oil in one hand and put his lover's legs together with the other.  He moved backwards so that his legs were outside Fox's, his ass almost directly in Fox's line of sight.
    "Lick me, Mulder!"
    Faced with this situation, Mulder wasn't a man who had to be asked twice.  He looked at the perfection of Walter's ass and licked his lips.  He moved his head and nuzzled his face into one of the globes and kissed it while his hand squeezed the other.  He spread his lover wide open, and with the tip of his tongue, he traced the entire cleft, stopping only long enough to suck at Walter's entrance. The large man's body trembled its approval.  Mulder's mind was awash with the taste and smell of the older man's dark essence.  Walter shouted when his lover's talented tongue breached the muscle, tasting him deep inside.
    "Fuck, Mulder, that's good!"  He dribbled the oil over each of Mulder's legs and tried to rub the balm into the leather, but he wasn't able—his hands were shaking too much.  The sounds of desire coming from his throat would not have been recognizable as any language he or anyone else would be aware of.  He placed his hands on Mulder's thighs to brace himself for the oral assault that he so loved.
    "Deeper, Mulder, harder, Fox...Fox fuck me with that tongue!"
    The younger man's cock leapt to attention with Walter's words.  He was amazed that the oil had allowed the leather to expand just enough to allow his cock to grow to its full length, standing almost straight up, nuzzling against the zipper of his pants, growing up toward his stomach.  But it ached. His balls ached. He was one aching ball of
arousal.
    Walter was busy fucking himself on Mulder's face.  "Oh my god, Mulder, that's wonderful.  Touch me, please, Fox, touch me!"
    Fox did, slipping his hand between his lover's legs, clasping his balls and rubbing them together, appreciating their size, their heaviness, their perfection.
    Walter shook his head with barely contained desire as Fox moved forward, his hand grasping the older man's cock and dragging it down while pumping it harshly from base to crown.  Skinner's whimpering grew more pronounced as he moved slightly away from Mulder's mouth and hand.  He supported his weight with one hand on Mulder's thigh.  He lowered himself down on his lover's fully engorged cock inside the pants.  Mulder went wild with need and bucked furiously as the older man fucked himself wildly on his cock.
    Walter was roaring his pleasure and need as he grabbed his tormented cock and began to pump it furiously.  "Fox, Fox, Fox...lover that's so good."  His hand pounded himself furiously as he pistoned his ass along the full length of his lover's cock.
    Fox was crying with want and frustration, the sensations in his body way beyond belief and description. Anchoring himself with one hand on Skinner's hip, he used the other to stroke each of his nipples, painfully and repeatedly, into heightened sensuality. His whole consciousness focused narrowly on his cock and that muscle stroking him faster than he ever thought possible.
    "Fuck, Mulder, I'm coming!"  With a final shout of triumph, Walter shot his seed high into the air, landing in long, stringy strands on the coffee table, his hand still wildly pumping his cock, milking himself to completion.
    Mulder could feel the strong contractions in his lover's ass, his poor, abused cock seeming to absorb the sensation of Skinner's orgasm. He watched as each successive convulsion shook his lover's body less and less, to the point that Walter was shooting sperm into his own hand. He raised a wet, salty finger to his mouth for a taste of himself. He groaned a bit with pain as he lifted himself off Mulder.  His legs just didn't want to cooperate with him and he collapsed on the floor, his butt coming to rest between his lover's legs.  His chest heaved with his need for breath; he closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to quell his beating heart.
Fox reached out his hand and caressed his lover's head—his lover's bald head.  Gentle and loving, slowly passing his palm over the flesh, gathering up the sweat.  This sent shivers through Walter's system, as it always did. Each time Mulder touched him like this, it touched him deeply—during sex or not, it made no difference.  Skinner just sighed in enjoyment, the smile on his face bright enough to light the room.
    Turning slightly, Skinner got on his knees next to the couch.  He raised a finger to Fox, who snaked out his tongue and brought Walter's semen into his mouth.  He groaned at the sensation of it.
    Skinner tugged at him until Fox was lying flat on his back on the couch.  Mulder saw the look of bliss on his lover's face and smiled.
    "So beautiful," Walter said as his tongue licked at his lover's lips.  Skinner took his mouth in a full kiss, their tongues doing mock battle.  Mulder groaned as he sucked Walter's tongue deep in his mouth.  He stopped breathing as Skinner's hand grazed his nipple and continued southward.  Mulder heard the telltale sound of his zipper being lowered.  Walter deepened his kiss, claiming Mulder, claiming Mulder's mouth as his own.
    Fox almost screamed when Walter's hand cupped his balls, kneading them softly, rubbing them lovingly.  He almost cried when his lover brought his hand to his nose to smell Mulder's dark, musky scent.  He was beyond himself when Walter kissed and licked his nose and said again: "So beautiful...so beautiful, and all mine."
    Mulder's breath left him completely when Skinner claimed his mouth again, loving him with his tongue and lips.  When the AD grazed his hand over the full length of Mulder's cock, he felt he would surely die.
    Tears of joy and relief were streaming from Fox's eyes when Walter stroked him, rubbing his cum-stained fingers over the head of Mulder's cock.  Still joined at the mouth with his lover, Mulder squirmed in abject delight with each downstroke of Walter's hand, knowing that he could never, not in one lifetime, get enough of this, enough of this man.
    "Krycek," Walter said softly,  picking up a little speed with his hand, squeezing Fox just a little harder.
    The younger man's eyes flew open, clouded by bliss; Walter could still see the puzzlement in them.
    "You have to tell Krycek, Mulder. It's only fair."
    Fox could feel his balls churning in their sack; his ass was clenching and on fire from within, lit with his pent-up desires.
    "Tell him what, Walter" Mulder managed to say.
    "He wants you, Fox, he's got it bad for you."  Walter's hand was almost flying up and down Mulder's cock; the older man's own semen mixed with the oil on his skin was giving Mulder the hand job of a lifetime.
    "Tell him, Fox, tell him.  Tell him that we're sleeping together, that you belong to me!" Walter's voice softened somewhat as he bent to kiss the younger man's forehead.
    Fox bucked into the hand that held him, once, twice, and came with a shout and a roar. The echo that was slowly dying in the room was the sound of Walter's own name.
    Mulder fell back on the couch, relaxing, his breathing still heavy and laboured, but otherwise looking like he had died.  He opened his eyes and looked at his lover.  "I will, Walter, at the first opportunity. "
    "Promise? " Skinner asked.
    "Yes, promise."
    "But, Fox...lover, " Skinner's eyes sparkled with warmth, "when you do, please don't wear those pants."
 

* Victor Buono

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Continued in BBC 6 First Impressions