Strange Case of the Quigley Twins

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Twin brothers with unusual sexual powers.
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Ryan and Mark Quigley lost their virginities nearly simultaneously one May night when they were both eighteen. Ryan had arranged the double date with the notorious Owens sisters for the express purpose of ridding himself of the burden of his innocence. His identical twin brother Mark's involvement was purely incidental.

Dana Owens, Ryan's date, was a girl of demonstrative compliance. Ryan personally knew four guys who had fucked her. She wasn't very attractive, to his eye. Dana had a somewhat piggish face, which she habitually coated with many heavy layers of make-up, and was voluptuous to the verge of chunkiness. But she did have the junk-food appeal of the unabashedly promiscuous and, to her credit, occasionally attended school braless. Ryan had no intention of making Dana his girlfriend. In his cooly pre-meditated plan she was nothing more than "practice." Ryan wanted to be experienced when he finally got with a girl he really liked.

There was a catch to dating Dana, though. Just one. Dana would only go on double dates with her younger sister, for reasons of safety. Tanya Owens, according to rumor, was as sure a thing as Dana, but whatever marginal allure she might have shared with her sister was negated by a couple of notable birth defects. For one, Tanya had a cleft palate, giving her a very pronounced hair-lip. As if this wasn't bad enough, her right leg was also shriveled and deformed, a full four inches shorter than her left. She wore a bulky metal brace on the bad leg, and walked with an awkward gait which had earned her the cruel high school nickname "Wobbly." It was said that were it not for the unique arrangement she had with her "normal" sister, Tanya would never date at all.

Ryan knew some guys overcame the problem of finding a date for the troublesome sister by trading favors. In order to take out Dana, a guy would have to find a buddy willing to have a go at Tanya. Then, as little as a week later, they could switch. Ryan had no intention of ever going with Wobbly Owens, though. This was how Mark got involved. Mark would go out with Tanya, and not expect to be re-paid by a turn with Dana. Mark did whatever Ryan told him to do.

Despite their nearly identical appearances- the same thick, wavy brown hair; the same intense blue eyes; the same sharply etched jaw line- there were vast differences in Ryan and Mark's personalities. Ryan was charismatic and out-going, a natural athlete. Mark was the scholar, more quiet and introverted. He was very intelligent, but tended to become a stuttering idiot whenever he found himself in conversation with a girl.

For the most part, Ryan was ashamed of his loser twin. But in the date he saw a mutually beneficial arrangement. Mark would take out Tanya, allowing Ryan access to Dana. In exchange, Mark would receive valuable experience he was not likely to find any other way. God knew he had little hope of popping his cherry on his own.

So the date was made. After the perfunctory dinner-and-a-movie prelude, Ryan drove the Quigley family car to a dark and secluded location outside of town. Ryan and Dana called dibs on the back seats. Mark and Tanya had to make do with the front, which was not well-engineered for the purposes of lovemaking. Their situation was made even more awkward by Tanya's cumbersome leg brace and Mark's fumbling inexperience. Despite these handicaps, soon Mark and Tanya were just as conjoined as their respective siblings in the back seat.

Then it happened.

Tanya was the first to notice something out of the ordinary. Her legs were spread at an awkward angle while Mark labored earnestly between them. The ankle of her leg brace had caught in the window crank, and the window rolled up and down an inch or so with Mark's every thrust. Tanya did her best to ignore this. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Brad Pitt grinding into her instead of pimply Mark Quigley. This mental trick had never failed her. The tension built until it was nearly unbearable. Tanya cried out when she reached her peak but then, instead of the familiar flush of orgasm, she felt a strange tingling sensation on her lip and in her right leg. The vibrations radiating from the points of Tanya's deformities were soon so intense it felt as though buzzing insects were crawling over her skin.

Mark pumped away at her, his mind consumed by the hundred conflicting thoughts and emotions of first-time sex. When he opened his eyes and looked down at the girl receiving him, Mark saw something very puzzling. The jagged line which divided her upper lip all the way up to her nose seemed to be erasing itself. This was surely a trick of the moonlight, but he did not know how to explain away the even stranger feeling that Tanya's shriveled leg seemed to be growing straight against his thigh. Mark was so distracted by these inexplicable events that his own ejaculation took him completely by surprise.

From the back seat came a startled cry from Dana, and Ryan's satisfied grunt. The Quigley twins were officially deflowered.

Tanya pushed Mark off of her. She screamed and tore off the hated brace, her leg burning with weird electricity. The leg was normal. Inexplicably, impossibly healed.

"Son of a bitch!" Tanya cried, realizing at once that she was not lisping, that she was in fact saying it without spraying it for the first time in her life. Tanya grabbed the rear-view mirror, in her frenzy ripping it right off the windshield. She held it up to her face. The defect was gone. The line which had always divided her face, which she had once tried to scrub off with a Brillo pad when she was very young, which had marked her and made her monstrous, was no longer there.

"Dana!" Tanya twisted around in her seat to share this astonishing news with her sister.

Ryan was still resting between Dana's legs, blinking with disbelief of his own. There was something very wrong. Dana's eyes had become dull and glazed. She wasn't breathing.

"Dana?" Tanya said.

Ryan sat up beside his motionless date and looked to Tanya, his lips quivering with mute apologies. Tanya leaned over the seat and grabbed Dana's naked arm. Her sister's muscles were slack and unresisting.

Dana was dead.

Tanya's mind reeled, unable to handle the two impossibilities which had occurred in the space of seconds.

"What did you do to her?" was all she could manage.

Ryan gulped hard, but could make no other response.

Tanya tore out of the car half-dressed and ran all the way home, four miles back to town, her mind wild with horror and joy. She had never run before, but the strong new leg carried her with impossible speed. When she arrived home, she tried to explain to her parents what had happened. She was out of breath, though, and could barely speak. Her parents had a hard time working past the apparent miracle of her healing, and the embarrassing fact of her near nudity. Finally, she made them realize the terrible price her healing had fetched. When they understood that their other daughter was dead, Mr. and Mrs. Owens called the police.

Back at the lover's lane, the Quigley brothers had got out of the car and were standing beside it, not knowing what else to do. They stood in silence, each boy lost in his own mind.

Ryan's first coherent thought was that now he would never get laid again. After that, he tried to figure out a way to blame this on his brother.

Mark spent this time reliving the moment when the energy had flowed from him into Tanya. He had felt powerful and whole at that moment. There had been an exquisite release. A pressure which had been building for his entire life, too slowly to be noticed, was instantly relieved. At the same time, though, he felt a nagging guilt about what had happened in the back seat. Mark felt that somehow it was his own fault.

When the police car finally arrived, painting the dark lane with flashing red-and-blue light, the twins were relieved. The purgatory of their thoughts, smelling the guilty reek of sex on their bodies and knowing there was a corpse in the back seat, had grown unbearable.

The Deputy Sheriff was a huge man, tall as a windmill and wide as a tank. "Where's the body?" he said, by way of greeting.

Mark pointed at the car. Ryan stared at his feet.

The Deputy Sheriff shined his powerful flashlight through the window, onto the blanketed mass which had once been Dana Owens. He climbed into the car and poked the body several times with a cigar-sized finger until he was satisfied that she was dead. Then he backed out of the car and shined the light back and forth between the brother's faces. Their identical features seemed to confuse him.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he boomed. The brothers were unsure if he was referring to the dead girl or their twin-ness, neither of which was a joke.

"No sir," Mark said when it became apparent that Ryan wasn't answering.

"Which one of you did this?"

Ryan hesitantly craned his neck to look the deputy Sheriff in the face.

"She was my date," he stated.

The Deputy Sheriff nodded thoughtfully. He asked the same question Tanya had: "What did you do to her?"

"I . . ." Ryan still didn't know how to answer. "I don't know."

"Did you fuck her?"

Ryan nodded. He felt like crying.

"Fucked her to death, looks like."

The Deputy Sheriff nodded meaningfully, then slammed each of the twins in turn on the hood of his police cruiser, clamping handcuffs to their wrists. He tossed them both into the back of his car and drove back to town.

On that long ride, Mark tried to lean his head against Ryan's shoulder, to offer and receive comfort. But Ryan pulled away. He was ashamed to show affection in the face of the Deputy Sheriff's overwhelming masculinity. The man would see it as weakness. So they rode to the police station sitting apart, each one alone.

*

The boys spent two days in jail. During this time, the coroner examined Dana and was unable to determine cause of death. She had no visible wounds, all toxicological tests had come back negative, and she appeared to be in perfect health.

"She just died," the coroner shrugged. There was nothing to suggest homicide, so no charges were filed. The boys were released into the custody of their mother.

The doctors who examined Tanya were similarly mystified. There was no precedent for her spontaneous healing. Tanya's case was written up in medical journals, generating fame in certain circles for the physicians who had worked on her case.

The same doctors also examined the Quigley twins. Here, too, nothing out of the ordinary was found. In the most humiliating of the many invasive tests performed, the boys were each asked to masturbate into a cup so their semen, the apparent cause of all this excitement, could be analyzed. Nothing lethal was found in Ryan's ejaculate, nothing rejuvenating in Mark's.

There was no scientific explanation for what had happened between the Quigley brothers and the Owens sisters.

*

Two months later and Ryan stood before his bedroom window with a noose around his neck. The other end of the rope was looped around the chimney on the roof. Rigging the means of his suicide had taken most of the afternoon, but Ryan was satisfied with the effect it would achieve. His mother and fucking miracle brother would arrive home in less than an hour to find him dangling from a broken neck in front of the living room picture window. Ryan had arranged the lights in the room for maximum dramatic effect. He would be nicely back-lit, his swaying corpse casting great shadows across the front lawn.

Ryan climbed out onto the windowsill. His legs dangled as he allowed the self-pity to steep. Just a slight shift of weight and he would deliver the most eloquent "fuck you" one brother ever said to another.

The story had spread quickly through the small town, dispensed mainly by Tanya Owens herself. Tanya told everyone she knew how the miracle of her healing had occurred, along with the circumstances of her sister's death. When the Quigley brothers had returned to school a week after the fateful night, there was a startling reversal. Ryan was ostracized. Even his best friends were uncertain around him. As for girls, he might as well have been a leper. Mark, on the other hand, now had girls throwing themselves at him.

What had happened with Tanya was no fluke. Marsha Patterson suffered from leukemia and was not expected to live past her nineteenth birthday. After her date with Mark, the disease went into a startling remission. Christina Schliecher, in a wheelchair since a car accident when she was five, actually walked out of the hotel room she had shared with Mark. Wendy Urlich's left pinky finger, severed years before, grew back within hours after her date. Debra Sanders, chronically depressed, quit Prozac the very next day.

Girls were hitting on Mark who had acne or who were near-sighted. Some of them weren't even bad-looking. Meanwhile, people whispered about Ryan behind his back.

At first, Ryan took comfort in fantasies of fratricide. Eventually, though, he decided that suicide would hurt his brother far more. Ryan's life was ruined. He couldn't rest until his brother's was laid to waste as well. If his own destruction was the means required to achieve this end, so be it.

Ryan rocked back and forth on the sill, on the very ledge between life and death. Soon gravity would remove choice from his hands.

Then the phone rang and Ryan's resolve faltered. Cursing, he tore the noose from his neck and crawled back into the room.

"This better be fucking important," he snarled into the phone.

"Is this Mark Quigley?" A shaking, middle-aged woman's voice came through the line.

"Yes," Ryan lied on impulse. The brother's voices were as alike as their faces.

"My name is Naomi Urlich. I'm Wendy's mom."

"So what?" Ryan snapped.

There was a long silence on the line, annoying Ryan to the point of rage.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"The biopsy," Mrs. Urlich said, her voice moist and heavy in Ryan's ear. It sounded as if she had been drinking. "It came back today."

Suddenly Ryan understood. The next idea to pass through his head made life seem worth living again.

"Two thousand dollars," he said.

"Of course," the woman's voice almost broke. "Of course, anything."

"I'll come over tomorrow at eight."

Ryan was grinning when he hung up. The ringing phone had been divine intervention, proof that God was on his side after all. Ryan made plans, plans with which his twin would have to cooperate.

"You owe me this," Ryan hissed into the empty bedroom.

*

The woman behind the curtain was young. Perhaps eighteen or nineteen. It was difficult to judge from her wilted body. She had a girl's face, though, pretty and sad. She looked curiously up at Mark.

"Does this really work?" she gasped, unable to breathe and talk at the same time.

Mark nodded. He smiled to try to put the girl at ease, but he was nervous himself. Through the curtain he heard hushed murmuring. The white curtain glowed from the bright lights on the other side.

"Your name's Becky?" he asked as he lifted her from her wheelchair to the bed which had been set up on the stage.

"Yeah," Becky said, her eyes not leaving Mark's.

He clumsily pulled off her clothes. Becky's lifeless body could offer neither help nor resistance.

"How did you become paralyzed?" Mark asked, only to fill the silence.

"A horse threw me," Becky said. "Just like that guy that played Superman in the old movies."

Now she was naked on the bed, still staring at Mark so intensely he had to look away.

"I'm a virgin," she said, then rolled her eyes because she could not shrug. "I guess it doesn't matter. I can't feel anything down there anyway."

"It's OK," Mark said. He undressed as Becky watched with frank curiosity.

Mark closed his eyes. Each time he did this now, it became more difficult to make himself ready. With the elderly and the very ill, he had to force arousal in the face of disgust. It was especially difficult when he had to lay down with men. The only way he could manage it was by remembering how it had been the first time, with Tanya.

When Mark opened his eyes, Becky was staring not at his face, but at his erection. Mark parted her dead-weight legs and smeared her with lubricant.

"Could you maybe kiss me or something?" Becky blushed. "It feels weird to just . . ."

Mark kissed her once, quickly. He couldn't lose his focus. He laid on top of her and slid inside. It didn't take long. The life sprang back into Becky's body and she pushed Mark off her furiously. She leaped from the bed, her naked flesh glowing with the ecstasy of re-birth.

"Jesus fuck!" she cried. Her blind clawing hand tore down the white curtain.

The studio audience gasped at the sight of the raving naked woman standing on legs unaccountably restored.

"Oh fucking God!"

The audience broke into wild, screaming applause. The cameras pulled in closer. When this astonishing image was later televised, electronic bleeps replaced the blasphemy and a digitally generated fuzz covered Becky's nudity. The studio audience, though, witnessed the miracle unfiltered.

On the bed behind Becky, Mark pulled the sheet over himself and tried to become invisible. No one seemed to notice him anyway.

"Unbelievable!" exclaimed Diane Redding, the show's host. She ran one hand unconsciously through her trademark red hair, ruining the hairdresser's work. For a moment she seemed to share Becky's mania. She could actually feel her Nielsen share rising, on her skin like a hot flash.

Her composure returned as she lifted the microphone to her lips. "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, a live demonstration. I wouldn't have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes. We're going to have to take a break now, let everyone calm down a little, but when we come back we'll talk to this young man with the remarkable ability. I'm sure you aren't going anywhere."

Becky's emergence from the curtain was replayed on the monitors, which then cut to the detergent commercials.

Ryan ran across the stage and sat on the bed beside Mark. He smiled and kissed his brother on the forehead. To Mark, this gesture made it all almost worthwhile.

*

Ryan dressed slowly in the dirty light of the cheap motel room. He checked himself in the mirror and the sight of his own face made him weep for several minutes before he got himself under control. He almost left then. His gloved hand was on the knob and he was ready to make his escape, but something made him stop. He couldn't let himself off this easily.

Ryan pulled the blanket off the woman on the bed. He forced himself to look down at her. Her bleached-blonde head rested on the pillow, her brown eyes forever fixed on the nicotine-yellow ceiling.

She had said her name was Corrina. Ryan hadn't asked, didn't want to know, but she'd told him anyway. Corrina probably wasn't her real name. She'd come to the room with him for the promise of a hundred dollars. Ryan wished he could still compensate her somehow but that, of course, was ridiculous.

Corrina had stretch marks on her belly and on her breasts. Ryan wondered if she had children, and what they would do now that she was dead. Kids probably gone, he decided. Corrina hadn't struck him as very maternal.

There had been tenderness between them, though. Ryan had cried as soon as he laid down beside her. Corrina held him in the dark and whispered, "Shh. It's all right, honey. Let me take care of that for you." The lines read without emotion, Corinna not bothering to act, but Ryan had sobbed into her naked shoulder anyway. She smelled sweet, like cheap perfume.

He had used to have to get angry before he could do it, but now he usually just cried.

Ryan gently closed Corrina's eyes. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking her in forever. He tried to tell himself that she was better off now, that he had freed her from what must have been a terrible life. But this was a lie he couldn't even pretend to believe anymore, like the one about how all his victims were social parasites whom no one would miss. None of the lies worked anymore.

12