…staying at Scully’s, drugged to the gills. A Mulder-brand of paranoia and madness ensues. “I would scream, but my throat is clogged with their writhing mass.Choking, I roll back and forth in the bed, clutching at Scully’s hand for comfort. It’s soft and fuzzy…ahhh…Bobo Kitty.” A humor sick-fic.
Bugs, “GIMME SHELTER” (offsite link)
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