Fleshy Headed Mutants

Monday, 6:32AM
FBI Indoor Firing Range
Bismarck, North Dakota

FBI Special Agent Samantha Douglas purposefully rammed the magazine into her Glock 19 9mm pistol that she used as a backup piece, racked the slide chambering a round and then took aim at "center mass" of the paper target 21 feet away. With rapid, dispassionate, mechanical precision she sent all 17 rounds down range to the target.

With the last round fired the Glock's slide locked back. Agent Douglas grabbed another magazine from her belt, rammed it home, thumbed the slide lock and squeezed off another 17 rounds.

She laid her weapon on the table in front of her, took off her shooting glasses and punched the button to bring her target to her. She was holding the target up with both hands examining it. There were smallish holes, one in the head and the other in the chest of the silhouette target where all her 34 rounds had gone through.

"That, Scully," said Special Agent Clarence Mulder, "is good enough to take home and put up on your fridge."

Agent Douglas put down her target and turned on Special Agent Mulder, "I've told you repeatedly not to call me Scully. It's not my name."

"And I've told you repeatedly, Agent Douglas," Agent Mulder said somewhat offended, "not to call me Mulder."

Agent Douglas rolled her eyes in exasperation, "But Mulder is your name!"

"Well, you could call me Bob. I would like that."

Agent Douglas rapidly thought through her mind as to why she would call Special Agent Clarence Edward Mulder, "Bob." She couldn't think of any reason and then got intensely angry that she had even wasted the few seconds contemplating the question. "Clarence..."

"Bob, please."

Barely able to contain herself Agent Douglas took a deep breath and said, "...okay, Bob, what brings you down here so early?"

"A case."

Agent Douglas brightened, "There's been a bank robbery?"

"Um, no."

"A kidnapping?"

"Sorry."

"They're holding terrorists at the border?"

"Well...in the loosest sense of the word "terrorist," you're getting warm."

"Ohhhhh," Agent Douglas moaned as she put her face in her arms on the table of the range cubicle.

No, damn it! she said to herself, she was going to serve out her tour here in the hinterlands and then apply to go back to Washington. She gathered her wits, squelched her anger and despair and stood up to face her partner, Clarence "Bob" Mulder - a middle aged man, originally from Nebraska, who was happier than a clam living in the God forsaken northern high plains.

"What is it then...Bob?"

"A sexual assault in Dunseith."

"That's local jurisdiction," Agent Douglas felt the walls closing in on her.

"It would be except that the alleged suspect is a trucker from Winnipeg and there are some special circumstances."

Agent Douglas still looked despondent.

"Oh, come on, Scul...er, Samantha, I told Caskey that we'd probably need to spend a few days in Winnipeg. He Okayed it." Clarence looked at the floor and scuffled an imaginary piece of dirt with his shoe, "Winnipeg isn't Washington or any of the big places on the East Coast you want to be but it isn't Bismarck, Minot or Grand Forks either."

Samantha smiled. "Yeah, Bob, thanks. You're right, thanks for thinking of me. Hey, we'll be in a foreign country, right?" Samantha said, brightening.

"Well, it is Manitoba in December." Clarence ventured sort of as a caveat.

"Right. I'll get packed."

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, 7:30AM
Boardroom, Spahn & Co., Consultants, Ltd.
Toronto

A tall thin man in an Armani suit was pacing back and forth at the front of the room. He was clearly angry.

"How...?" The tall thin man started to ask a question then stopped. He rubbed his forehead.

"Woul...would you like some water, Mr. Spahn?" One of the people seated at the boardroom table stuttered.

"No! I want to know how, in the name of all our gods, how you could let this happen?"

There was silence. Dead silence.

"Well?" Mr. Spahn glared at his staff.

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes," Spahn fixed his stare on a nervous looking man at the far end of the table, "uh, what's your designation?"

"Torusini12 from Briggert Colony, sir. Here I am called Rodney Peoples, sir."

"What is it, Peoples?" Spahn asked in irritation.

"Well, uh, sir, I think I can explain some of what has happened."

Peoples stopped speaking. Seconds passed. Spahn made a face and shrugged his shoulders, the universal body language for, "Well, get on with it."

"Oh, yes. Well, sir, the Biometrics Research Group wanted to expand their fieldwork. They wanted to research the apparent attraction of African-American human males to red and blond haired American Anglo-Saxon women; you know, to see if it were a mutual attraction or if one group or the other was the dominant initiator.

"I, uh, told the group leader that Research Central would have to approve the funding. The group leader asked me how long that would take. I told him since our telemetry link with the home world was down it could be a while.

"He said, it wouldn't be a problem; he'd use 522 funding sources. I said okay and that's the last I thought of it until, uh, you brought the problem to our attention this morning. Sir."

"So Peoples, do you know what the 522 sources were?"

"Well, uh, sir, Biometrics had already been using 522 sources, principally what the natives know as "multi-level marketing" schemes via the Terran's global computer network.

"So, uh, well, Biometrics did a little research and came up with a compound - purely a harmless mix of native herbs and simple organic compounds - that purported to extend the length and girth of a human male's penis by at least three inches in length and two inches in circumference.

"Biometrics put it out on the global network and the results were astonishing. Money poured in. The group leader bought a new pickup truck and several of the group staff moved from homeless shelters and YMCA's to Canadian government low-income housing. Though, uh, those staffers who were living in psychiatric hospitals did not want to relocate. Apparently the food is pretty good in those places. Anyway, it was a boon to Biometrics. Uh, sir."

Spahn glared at the assembled group. Incredible, absolutely astonishing. After a long while of letting his mind boggle at the moronic actions of his group Spahn asked, "Do any of you know what CZ76a is?"

Peoples spoke up again. "Uh, sir, we're administrative and marketing staff. Biometrics is in Detroit this week doing some research."

"I do." The voice was not nervous. It belonged to a man who had been standing at the back of the room.

Spahn glared, "Your designation?"

"Gladius Zarcon, home world. I'm with project security."

"Zarcon, explain to these bleophs what CZ76a is please."

"CZ76a is a derivative of CZ7beta. A Biometrics researcher on a mission to planet P12709MC discovered it. It's what started the war between the Condominium and the Star Empire of the Plicusine that P12709MC belongs to 125 standard revolutions ago."

The administrative and marketing staff collectively gasped. They remembered the war. The Andal Condominium had lost a quarter of its space and nearly half its population in the war that lasted only two and a half standard periods before the Condominium sued - actually begged - for peace from the Plicusines.

While Planet P12709MC was populated by a variant of Homo Sapiens, it was the only planet in the Plicusine Empire of Homo Sapiens. They were classed as an endangered species and under the protection of the Plicusine Fish and Wildlife Service.

The Plicusines are of two principal species: The Plicutus - hyper-intelligent, giant crocodiles - and the Uru-sines, hyper-intelligent, 15 to 19 foot tall, four to seven thousand pound grizzly bears.

The giant crocs are the philosophers, lawgivers and artists of the Empire.

The giant grizzlies are the warrior caste. The Uru-sines take their position in society as warriors and defenders of the Empire with a zealous pride.

When CZ76a was released on P12709MC, the Empire took great and immediate offense. But none of the assembled staff in the boardroom that morning could remember exactly what CZ76a did.

Spahn said, "Very good, Zarcon." Then he fixed a malevolent stare on Peoples. "Peoples, CZ76a is loose on Earth."

Another gasp followed by the ringing of Spahn's cell phone. Spahn took the call, spoke only a few words, frowned, swore in Andalian, ended the call and looked at his watch.

"We'll reconvene at 10. We need to figure out how to stop this. We need to figure it out quickly. I've just been informed that there is a group of Uru-sines vacationing in the American Rockies.

"Release of CZ76a is a treaty violation. If the bears get wind of this and report back to the Empire, the treaty of Bla'a'ta specifies that those immediately responsible will be eaten and the Condominium will become the property of Plicusine and us their slaves or food - whichever we are best suited for."

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, 9:16AM
Headquarters of Size Matters, LLC.
Boissevain, Manitoba

Warren Neilson was in a foul mood as he sat at his desk reading his email.

What had Neilson is such a bad mood was a television program he had watched the night before: "Third Rock from the Sun." Neilson did not, as a rule, watch television and only went to movies when it was required as a prerequisite to sexual intercourse with his date.

"Neilson!" Neilson snapped as he answered the phone.

"Warren, hi, it's Karen. You sound in a bad mood. What's the problem, eh?"

"Oh, hi Karen. I'm just in a bad mood, eh. Something I saw on TV last night."

"Warren! That's wonderful that you're expanding yourself. What upset you?"

"This show, it's designated a comedy. I didn't find anything amusing about it. "Third Rock from the Sun" is what it was called."

"Oh, I just love "Third Rock," Warren. What upset you so, eh?"

"All this talk about the 'big giant head.' I can't say more, Karen, okay, eh?"

"Sure Warren," Karen dropped the subject and got down to her original purpose, the morning report. "Listen, the reason I called is that the morning figures are in. We sent 36 million emails out over night. I have point zero one percent as orders, 98 percent no response and the remainder are somewhat colorful threats and sexual propositions."

"Excellent, Karen. So we have another $360,000 U.S. coming then?"

"Yeah, give or take, eh."

For a moment Neilson's foul mood fell away. The Research leader could get another pickup if he wanted. The prospect of money, large sums of money, eased Neilson's worries over whether the people on "Third Rock" were competing alien researchers or they were mocking the Andalian's fleshy heads of their mating proboscis - what these disgusting humans called penis or cock or, the most offensive name, to Neilson's sensibilities was the British term, "wanker."

"Warren? Are you there, eh?"

Karen's voice snapped Neilson back to reality. "Yeah, sure."

"Can we meet sometime Warren? You know, maybe take in dinner and go to a movie, eh?"

"And then," Neilson said with a tone of certainty, "something might develop, eh?"

Karen giggled in that way peculiar to the people of the high plains, "Why Warren! Shame on you, eh! Hmmmm, something could develop if we wanted it to, eh."

"I'd want it to, eh. I'll call you, eh?"

"Sure Warren. I'll be waiting. Bye."

"Bye, eh."

Neilson hung up the phone, far happier than when the call started. He knew coupling with Karen would ruin her for any other man she would ever meet but the thought of her petite body and such huge breasts was more than he could stand.

Neilson put his head back, rolled his eyes back and howled as his mating proboscis unleashed a torrent of his vital fluids, soaking his crotch and flooding his body with blinding pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, 10:30AM
Boardroom, Spahn & Co., Consultants, Ltd.
Toronto

"So," Mr. Spahn fairly hissed, "anyone figured out why CZ76a is so dangerous?

"Peoples?!"

"Uh, well sir, I had to answer some emails after our first meeting so I haven't had anytime to do any research," Peoples quivered.

Spahn starred at the administrative type and shook his head in bewildered disgust.

A small, attractive woman spoke up. "Uh, sir. Mbemgna39, home world. They call me Mitzi here."

Spahn arched his eyebrows, "You know?"

"Yes, sir.

"CZ76a causes indirect sterility in Homo Sapien males."

"Very good...Mitzi. Define for your colleagues what 'indirect sterility' means." Spahn's voice dripped with contempt.

"Indirect sterility was the term developed by the legal department in the wake of the Plicusine war to make what happened not sound so, um, negligent and freakish, to those who survived the war.

"Males are not sterile but they are actually quite potent. The problem is that CZ76a increases the male sexual drive and concomitantly increases the female sexual drive."

Rodney Peoples didn't think that sounded like such a bad thing.

"The problem is that CZ76a causes only male sperm to fertilize the female ovum. Consequently, in a disproportionately rapid amount of time, relative to planetary birth and death rates, the ratio of males to females spikes in favor of the males, meaning that within a period of 100 standard revolutions or less, the planet is virtually infertile because no females are produced."

"Very good, Mitzi. And why are the Plicusine so bothered by this turn of events?"

"Because sir, within 200 standard revolutions, the Homo Sapien population die off since they have no ability to reproduce females."

There was a collective gasp around the conference table.

Spahn was agitatedly shaking his head, "You bet your ass people! If we don't stop this now we're going to be responsible for killing off another planet! Do you get it, Mr. Peoples?!"

"Uh...yes sir," Rodney Peoples flinched. But then he asked a question. "But why is sexual drive so rapidly increased?"

Spahn held out his hand to Mitzi.

"Because sir, CZ76a causes a random genetic mutation. In some Homo Sapien males it simply does as advertised, it increases the size of the male penis. But the random mutation creates a penis that has a disproportionately large glans or head of the penis, relative to the shaft. And this head, at orgasm, injects small shafts into the female vagina that will cause repeated orgasms in the female over a 24 to 48 earth standard hour period.

"Plus orgasm for the male is supremely enhanced. Consequently, males with this mutation become sexually addicted and want to copulate as much as possible and the females, experiencing copulation as never before, want the same. It can create social chaos. As the female population decreases, males will fight and kill each other in order to copulate with the available females."

"And, Mitzi, what is the rate of the 'random' mutation?" Spahn asked. This was really going to shock these bleophs, he thought with some satisfaction.

"Depending on planetary conditions and the gene pool, the random mutation can be as low as 1 in 5. Those conditions exist here so we can be safe in assuming that the mutation rate on earth will be 1 in 5."

There was another collective gasp which pleased Mr. Spahn immensely.

"So. We need to find these renegade researchers that unleashed this here, feed them to the damn bears and stop this CZ76a before it wipes out the planet and the Andal Condominium itself.

"Now let's move! Mr. Zarcon will be in charge of the crisis. Until further notice, you all work directly for him."

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, 3:52PM
Dr. Ralph Pike's house
Dunseith, North Dakota

"Uh, she's in here," said Dr. Ralph Pike, M.D.

Dr. Pike led Agents Mulder and Douglas to a large room at the end of a hallway.

As they neared the room they could hear a woman crying; desperate, pleading, inconsolable and then, just as Dr. Pike opened the door, the cries turned to moans and shrieks of pleasure.

When the doctor opened the door, the sight and smell was incredible. On a bed, bathed in sweat, lie a naked young woman, back arched, one hand pulling a nipple as hard as she could while she masturbated with the other hand.

The room reeked of sex and sweat.

The three stood at the door of the room, watching the woman writhe on her bed as Dr. Pike tried to brief the agents.

"Damnedest thing I've ever seen in my 35 years of doctoring. By the way, in case you're wondering, I can't keep clothes or blankets on her. Her temperature is running between 101 and 102.

"Anyway, Ernie Thompson, the district highway patrol trooper brought her here after he had processed the paperwork. She didn't appear to be have been raped in the classical sense."

"Classical sense?" Agent Douglas asked.

"Um, yeah, up here, rapes are few and far between, at least the ones that get reported. But there's a definite pattern. Usually the woman has been roughed up; black eyes, bruises, the like. And usually the prime suspects are high school seniors or truckers or an occasional Indian. All of them tend to get all liquored up, find a female, sometimes willing and sometimes not, and then act like an bull elk in rut. Real rough.

"You're not from around here are you uh, Agent..."

"Douglas. No, I'm from Manhattan."

The old doctor smiled, "Know a couple of fine vets down at the veterinary school at K-State."

"Uh, Dr. Pike, that's Manhattan, as in New York City not Kansas."

The old doctor's smile went away, "Oh. Figures," he mumbled under his breath but then he went on, "Well, anyway, poor woman doesn't have a mark on her save for a hickey.

"I had Ernie go pick up Mrs. Dalton, my nurse, and with Ernie and Mrs. Dalton as chaperons I did a pelvic on her. That was really the damnedest thing.

"Didn't appear to be any trauma per se. There was the presence of semen. Copious amounts."

"So she was gang raped?" agent Mulder asked.

"No. No, the woman claims one man did her in his sleeper cab in about 20 minutes, give or take. But my God in heaven she was full to overflowing.

"When I finally could see inside her after evacuating all that semen she looked like she was still aroused. She was all swollen and every few minutes there'd be strong vaginal contractions like she was having an orgasm.

"I got a scope in there and looked very closely at her vaginal walls and her cervix. There were these little tiny soft barb like thingies stuck in her walls and the mouth of her cervix."

Agent Douglas arched her eyebrows, "Thingies?"

"Well, yeah. Sorta like bee stingers only soft. If I hadn't scoped her I would have never seen 'em."

"Did you take them out?"

"Well, yes and no. I took most of them out but I think I left the tip of them embedded in the flesh so I quit trying to get the rest out.

"If she doesn't stop this caterwauling soon I imagine I'll need to have her airlifted to Minneapolis cause it's likely those little thingies stuck in her that's keeping her so uh, aroused."

"Is she in pain?" Agent Mulder asked without taking his eyes off the writhing body of the young woman.

"Um, Ginny, you in pain?" Doctor Pike called to his patient.

"No doc but please god, make it stop; you gotta make it stop!"

The doctor motioned the two agents close to him, "I know you heard her moaning and crying when you came in. She's not in any pain that I can tell but she's damn near exhausted from the continual, um, stimulation and in between orgasms I think she's a little desperate for it all to stop. Either that or she's desperate to have another orgasm. I can't bring myself to ask, if you must know.

"Weird thing is, I've got enough sedatives in her that would make most people comatose by this point and they don't seem to phase her. I suppose I could get Sandy Franklin over and we could intubate the girl, put her on a vent and gork her."