This story is posted under an adult header due to adult themes. It is
intended for adult audiences only.

Permission given to archive at fkfanfic website, the FTP site and the
JADFE archives. No other permission is granted to
repost/reprint/reuse. If you're interested drop me a line. As always,
feedback is welcomed.

This story is based on characters and situations that aren't mine. Thanks
to TPTB for their use.



"Tainted Love"
by S. Clark


Natalie stood at the door to Nick's place. She'd rung the bell several
times, but no answer. She knew Nick was home. It was daytime. The caddy
was in the garage.

She punched the security code into the lock and entered the loft.

When she was almost to the lift, she heard a loud "Bang!" Scared for
Nick's safety, Nat ran to the stairwell and threw open the door.

She raced up the stairs, two at a time, her heart pounding from the
excitement as she reached the landing. Nat shoved open the door, making
her way into the loft, and found Nick seated on the sofa.

He was facing away from her, and didn't turn as she entered.

Natalie bolted to the couch. "Nick!? What was that? What happened?"

Nick just gave her a slight shrug. He was wrapped tightly in a blanket, so
a slight shrug was about all the movement he could accomplish.

"Nick?" She asked. "Is something wrong."

He made no motion. She walked around the couch to face him.

"Nick, what's going on?"

He merely offered a weak smile.

"Nick, something just made a loud noise, right?

He shook his head no.

"Something in this loft."

He emphatically shook his head no.

"Nick, you're not going to move, are you?"

He even more emphatically shook his head no.

At this point, Natalie figured whatever was going on, she should have been
hearing noise because she was now convinced Nick's skull was definitely
full of gravel.

Nat sat next to Nick on the couch. He pulled the blanket even tighter
around himself.

She edged closer.

He didn't move.

She edged even closer.

Still, no movement.

She lunged towards the coffee table and grabbed the remote control.

"Tell me what's up," she threatened.

Nick didn't budge.

"Tell me, or you'll have to watch nothing but morning television. I'll
tape it, and you'll have to watch it all day long."

She spit out the last words slowly. Nick winced on every word.

"Ah nah hahm," he said, speaking so softly she could barely hear him.

"You're not a gnome?" She asked.

"Hahm! Nah hahm!" he repeated, louder.

"You've lost your comb?"

Nick closed his mouth so hard his lips were thin little lines.

Natalie switched on the television. "Is this the tape with 101 sunrises of
Hawaii? I'm sure you won't mind if I tape over it."

"Let's see," she continued, fumbling with the remote. "Which of these
buttons do I push?"

"Do we want bad American tv? Or bad Canadian? So many choices." She
flipped through the channels.

She could tell Nick was near the breaking point. Especially as he lit off
the couch and flew, literally, up to the landing.

But as he departed, blanked still tightly wrapped around his body,
something that was under the blanket remained tucked into the couch.

Natalie looked at the item and began to scream!

Nick heard Nat, looked back to see what she was screaming at, and started
to scream himself.

(Well, scream the best he could, given the fang problem and all.)

Natalie found herself face to flattened face with a life-sized, latex,
presumably inflatable version of herself.

Except, of course, for the fact that her doppelganger was nekkid, and had
two puncture wounds in its left breast.

Nat screamed again and dropped the thing, jumped from the couch, and
sprinted from the apartment.

Nick frowned, and slowly made his way back down to the couch, this time
using the far less efficient method of the stairs.

He looked at the door Natalie had just left. 

Then he looked at the recently departed 'inflate-a-date'.

And he wanted to cry, because the thing had cost him a lot of money, and
it was the fifth once he'd had to replace this year.

And it was only February.

Nick went to the storage area and pulled out his bicycle repair kit.

He'd figure out some way to get LaCroix to work on Nat (again), and have
her forget this little incident (again).

In fact, he'd go visit LaCroix this very evening. 

In the meantime, he had some inflating to do.

It was so much easier than trying to explain.


<fin>


This story is in honor of Knightowl. Who, sadly enough, gave me the
idea. And, to sum it all up, paraphrasing her words, "the flesh was
willing, but the spirit gum was weak."

(Please don't hurt me, Hooty.)

<sclark@best.com>


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