I Took My MulderClone Shopping!

a true confession by Foxsong


Keywords: Clone!Fic

Rated PG. Content Warning! This story contains frank and graphic descriptions of ladies' undergarments. If such things make you squeamish, bail now!

Spoilers: Is it possible that you don't know about MulderClones? Remedy that situation at http://www.geocities.com/maybe_aa/

Archive: Oh, sure. I'm shameless. I haven't said "no" yet. I just wanna know where, okay? And leave this link to my site at www.foxsongfiles.net

Feedback to foxsong@foxsongfiles.net will be answered by my MulderClone.

Disclaimer: "MulderClones" is a registered trademark of MulderClones 'R' Us and its parent corporation, Better Virtual Living. No copyright infringement is intended. If they wanna sue me, they can have everything else, as long as they don't repossess my Clone!

This is for MaybeAmanda, who gene-spliced my Clone for me, and for my beta-goddess Char, who inspired me to write comedy. With thanks to Alison, who stepped up to the beta plate, 'cause both of the other two had the nerve to go on vacation at the same time!

Summary: This is what happened when I took my faithful MulderClone (#21,108) out on a shopping expedition. Let it be a warning to you! <g>



I had just shut down my computer when my MulderClone came up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "Done so soon?" he asked. "I thought you had a lot to do today. I could bring you some lunch if you're hungry."

"Well, I still have a few things to do," I answered, tipping my head up to kiss him back. "But it's three o'clock already, and I have to run a few errands right now. What are you up to?"

"I've been very industrious." He smiled as he pulled up the next chair and sat down. "I defrosted the refrigerator right after breakfast, and scrubbed the kitchen floor afterward. Then I went out and weeded the garden. Then, after I watered it, I figured I might as well wash your car while I had the hose out, so I did. And I vacuumed the inside, too, because I couldn't leave it halfway done. Then I ironed and folded all the laundry I did last night and put it away." He looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, honey," I said, smiling approvingly at him, "you're so good."

He fairly glowed with a self-satisfaction that stopped just short of being smug. "And now," he announced, "I'm going to go down and wax the kitchen floor." He stood up and moved the chair over again, but I reached out and took his hand.

"Wait a minute, honey. Do you need a break from the housework? Why don't you come shopping with me? I only have to go one place. The floor won't go anywhere if you don't do it right this second."

It took him a moment to make up his mind. "Well... I guess so," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Although I had thought about taking apart the bathroom faucet and finding out why it's dripping..."

"Come on, Fox," I coaxed. "It's my day off, and you've been so busy puttering around here that I've hardly seen you. Come with me."

At last he looked up at me and smiled. "Okay. It might be fun. Let me change my shirt - I'll meet you out front in a minute?"

"Fine. I'll go get my purse."




"So," he asked eagerly, looking out the car window, "where are we going, anyway?"

"National Wholesale Liquidators," I answered, and he frowned.

"No Gap?"

"Fox, when did I say Gap?"

"Wel-l-l...." he drew the word out, "I was hoping for a mall with a Gap."

"You were hoping to escape to the Gap while I did the rest of my shopping."

He grinned. "I can't fool you, can I?"

"Not even a little," I smiled back. "Don't worry, honey. You'll love this place. It's got everything. It's one of those odd-lot warehouse kind of things."

The frown had returned, and had become something perilously close to a pout. "I don't know," he said. "There's no mall next door or anything?"

"You'll like it, Fox. I promise. There's all kinds of stuff. There's guy stuff - tools, hardware, electronics. You can play with that while I get the other things."

The pout was becoming more fully formed. "Housewares," I countered quickly, knowing it was his great weakness. "They have housewares, honey."

The pout subsided, but he wrinkled his nose just enough to show me he was unconvinced. He sighed his patented sigh-of-great-forbearance. "Is it far?" he asked glumly.

"Nope. Right down South Broadway here." He had slouched down in the car seat and I decided I'd do better to shut up before he turned snippy on me. He stared out the side window and sighed eloquently one more time.

"I could've had half the floor waxed by now," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I ignored him.




National Wholesale Liquidators did not meet Fox's exacting standards. After a look through the housewares, he said darkly, "If we'd gone to the mall we'd have had the Gap and Bed Bath & Beyond." He resigned himself to pushing the shopping cart behind me, looking every inch the put-upon male, pressed unwillingly into indentured domestic servitude.

"Just one more thing on the list, honey," I said, patting his hand on the shopping cart handlebar.

"What's that?" he asked wearily, sighing for effect.

"A couple of bras," I answered.

He perked up right away. "Bras?" he repeated.

"You said yourself the other day that all the beige and white ones had seen better days, and those are the only colors that won't show through my uniform shirt at work. So we'll find three or four more, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, but then he sighed again.

"What?" I asked.

"If we'd gone to the mall, we'd have had the Gap, Bed Bath & Beyond, and Victoria's Secret."

I laughed. "Not a chance. Have you seen their prices? We can get three here for the price of one there. Wait'll you see. I always find bargains. You know that peach-colored one, the one you like so much?"

His eyes narrowed and he grinned. "The one that opens in the front. With my teeth."

"Um... yeah, that one. It's a thirty-dollar Olga, but I paid five ninety-five for it here." Just then we came to the lingerie aisle. "Here, honey," I said, and took his arm, and he stopped, and stared at the panorama spread out before him.

The aisle was about thirty feet long, and the racks on both sides were easily eight feet high, festooned with a jumble of almost every imaginable kind of ladies' underwear. His eyes widened in delight, and a slow smile began to spread across his face, and I saw dawning on him all the heretofore unconsidered possibilities offered by such a grand assemblage of ladies' intimates.

I began right then to wonder whether I should have left him home and let him wax that floor after all.

I shook his arm a little to draw him out of his reverie. "Come on," I said, but he was staring, mesmerized, at something off to his left. I followed his gaze to a rack of incredibly garish bra-and-panty sets in a startling variety of animal-skin prints - zebra, and leopard, and tiger, and cheetah...

"No. No. No, honey," I said, steering him toward the normal ones. "Beige. White. ... Okay?"

"Yeah... beige," he said, casting the others one last longing look. He wandered up the aisle, turning over and reading the tag here and there on a likely prospect. Now and then he glanced over his shoulder again at the cave-girl undies. I studiously pretended not to notice the big sad puppy-dog eyes he turned on me after every glimpse of them.

Fox and I were almost at opposite ends of the aisle when we were joined by two matronly ladies of an age that straddled the line between motherly and grandmotherly. They began to sort through the sensible garments in the middle section of the aisle. I didn't pay much attention till Fox called me. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" I answered offhandedly.

"34C, right?" he called loudly down the aisle. The two ladies smiled at me and went back to their search. I looked sharply at Fox, and nodded curtly, but the grin I got in response to my withering glare was only pretending to be innocent.

"Underwires?" he went on.

"Yesss," I hissed at him, snatching a white bra from the rack. The two ladies tittered just loudly enough for me to hear. He came up the aisle toward me. "Next time I will leave you home to wax the floor," I threatened.

"But, baby," he pouted, "I'm just trying to help."

"Don't 'but, baby' me, Fox. Just look for 'em. Don't announce the size and the style to the entire free world."

"Fine," he sniffed, six-foot-one of wounded dignity personified. "Fine. I'll just look." He shambled away, affecting a carefully crestfallen attitude. The two ladies clucked sympathetically.

As he passed them, he saw that one of the ladies was stretching up on tiptoe toward something on a rack just out of reach overhead. He stopped and said, "Here, don't hurt yourself, ma'am - I can get that for you." He handed it down to her, and she smiled.

"Aren't you nice! Thank you, dear," she exclaimed.

Fox inclined his head toward her, smiling a very charming smile indeed. "Oh, it was no trouble at all. If there's anything else you can't reach, I'd be happy to get it down for you."

I swear he'll flirt with anyone. His new friend puffed up in visible delight as Fox went back to his perusal of the various wares laid out before him. I couldn't really be sure, but I thought she might even be blushing a little.

A few minutes later he came up beside me again and touched my arm. "Baby?... Look at this one."

I turned to see what he had found. He held it up and jiggled the hanger a little. " 'Lily of France'," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Ooh-la-la."

It was all slinky satin, covered in waves of lace, with little padded cups that wouldn't even begin to cover... Which was more appalling - the bra, or the thought that he might actually want to see me in it? I couldn't decide. "It's - um - lovely, honey," I said, as tactfully as I could. "But it's... fuchsia."

"I know. But I thought..." He shrugged, and even though I didn't see the pout, I knew it was lurking there, waiting for its chance to spring out again in all its petulant glory. I had to distract him.

"Honey, look at this one," I said, pushing the white one I'd already picked out into his hand and simultaneously whisking the fuchsia monstrosity away. "This is what I had in mind. See what I mean?"

"Hmmm..." He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it carefully. He flipped the tag over to read the care instructions. "Woolite."


"It says 'Woolite.' They recommend washing it in Woolite. We're almost out of Woolite."

I saw my opportunity and seized it. "They have Woolite here. Why don't you go pick some up right now, while you're thinking about it?" With any luck, there'd be something in housewares that would distract him for just the few minutes I'd need...

He was too clever for me. "Oh, no," he said, a cunning light in his eyes. "We can grab a bottle on the way by after we're done here... can't we, baby?"

Checkmate. "Um... sure," I answered flatly. He held the white bra out to me with a Cheshire-cat grin, and I took it back.

Next to me, the lady that Fox hadn't flirted with said helpfully, "You don't have to use Woolite on that. Delicare works fine, and it's only half the price."

This was too much for Fox. "I like Woolite much better," he piped up.

"Oh!" the lady asked him, "do you do some of the laundry?"

"I do all of the laundry," he said proudly, drawing himself majestically up to his full height. "And the Woolite gets the white things really, really white."

Both the ladies' heads swivelled toward him in fascination. The lady he'd flirted with before managed to pull herself away long enough to say to me, "You're such a lucky young lady. My husband won't even help clear the table, much less do laundry!"

Fox caught my eye with a triumphant expression as I said weakly, "Well - yes - he's very helpful around the house..."

Fox is never happier than when he's the center of attention, and now he'd found himself an audience. "With the Delicare," he opined, "I have to use hot water to get things really white, and cold water's so much easier on the elastic, don't you think?" His new friends, plainly overwhelmed with awe at this handsome, well-mannered specimen of laundry-enabled manhood, murmured their assent. Don't get me wrong - the friendly-and-outgoing thing is great, and I don't blame the people at MulderClones 'R' Us for being so proud of it. But there are definitely moments when I feel nostalgic for sullen-and-withdrawn.

Still, as long as he was holding forth on laundering technique to his rapt little congregation, he was out of my way. I slipped away and walked hastily back over to the rack and pawed furiously through the bras until I had found three more appropriate ones, and I was just drawing a breath of relief, thinking I'd gotten away with it, when I heard his voice right behind me.

"Baby?" he said in that unmistakable tone that only ever means one thing. "C'mon... look at this. How can we possibly go home without it?"

He'd picked out one of those God-awful, unthinkable, leopard-spotted disasters. I stared at it. "Fox. When have you ever, ever seen me wearing a thong?"

He dropped his gaze. "Well - never. But - "

"And I'm not about to start now," I snapped.

"Aw, but, honey - Baby..." He dangled the offending garments plaintively before me. He tilted his head and gave me his best disingenuous, pleading, half-pout. I could have withstood it, but it wasn't wasted on the one of the two matronly ladies who was now right behind me, and she tapped me on the shoulder.

"Oh, buy it for him, dear," she said conspiratorially, woman-to-woman, leaning toward me. "After all, he's so sweet." And then, to my horror, she winked at me!

My mortification was complete. I glared at Fox. "Find the panty set," I said tersely," because I will. Not. Wear. The thong."

His face lit up. "Okay," he said, knowing he'd won, and hastened back to the rack full of jungle-motif unmentionables.

Never, I swore silently, watching him hurriedly going through the ridiculous things in search of his prize. Never, never, never will I bring him here again. Never.

"I found one!"




On the way home, he kept opening the big pink shopping bag, reaching in, happily stirring the contents around, and then closing it up again. He was obviously pleased with himself.

"National Wholesale Liquidators, huh?" he said. "Pretty cool place. How often do you go there, anyway?"

It used to be my favorite store. "Once in a while."

"Cool store," he repeated. "You were right. They have everything there."

"Mmmph," I grunted. He reached over and rubbed the back of my neck with his hand and found the tight knot of corded muscle there.

"Baby," he cooed, "you're so tense. I thought shopping was supposed to be relaxing for you girls."

"Uh-huh," I said shortly, keeping my eyes on the road.

In a few minutes he tried again. "Hey, baby," he wheedled, patting the shopping bag on his lap, "Me Tarzan - you...?"

I couldn't stand it, try as I might. The giggle escaped me. When I heard him chuckle, it turned into a laugh. What else could I do, but laugh? "We never looked at the men's things. I'm gonna get you something awful next time."

"Ha! Do your worst. I'm not afraid."

"You will be. What if I find... fuchsia satin boxers?"

That sobered him up right away. He glanced at his watch as we turned into the driveway at home and muttered something about floor wax. I parked the car and we got out.

"I'm not sure you'll have time for the floor right now," I grinned, "...'Tarzan'..."

"Oh! Is that right... 'Jane'?"

He slipped his arm around my waist as we went into the house.