X-Filth - The Motion Picture

X-Filth - The Motion Picture
by the
Hoot Island Writing Collective

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

X-Filth - The Motion Picture
by the Hoot Island Writing Collective

11:23 a.m.
The Vernal Equinox

FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

Agent Fox Mulder, brilliant young investigator and teen idol, sat at his desk in his basement office examining a slide under a microscope. He focused, made a few notes, then looked again.

Finally he sat back and threw his pen down. "It's no use," he said. "I have no idea how to use this damn thing. I'll have to call Scully, my pert little partner that I can't have a relationship with." He reached into his jacket pocket and selected a cell phone, quickly speed-dialing one-handed while surreptitiously checking to make sure the right number of adorable curls were hanging over his forehead.

"Scully," said the voice from his cell phone, which Mulder had already misplaced. "Damn," he said, and stood up to go find her. The door to his office flew open to reveal Agent Dana Scully, over 5 feet of firmly packed federal succulence.

"I got your call, Mulder, and I've come to help you. Or is that ‘help you to come'?" And with that, she threw off her designer trenchcoat to stand before him in garters and hose.

Shocked, Mulder reached toward her in an attempt to close the coat. "But Scully, you delectable little morsel, you know that according to the premise of the show (and the codes of the FBI regarding fraternization) we're not allowed to make love or, indeed, form any sort of lasting interpersonal relationship!" Smiling, she caught his hand and brought it to her heaving 47" breasts, shuddering through 4 orgasms as she did so.

"So we'll just fuck," she said, unzipping his button-fly slacks and revealing his pulsing 13.5" pride. Mulder jumped onto the table and leapt into the air spinning to land on Scully, crashing both of them to the floor as he penetrated her to the hilt and inadvertently dislocating one of her kidneys. The force of their simultaneous orgasms cracked the mirror in the washroom next door and ignited Mulders beloved ‘I Want to Believe' poster.

Afterwards, as Mulder mopped the office floor, Scully sprayed the poster with a fire extinguisher. "You know Skinner won't let this drop," he said enigmatically, returning his 34-inches of tool into his tight fitting pants.

Scully nodded, shuddering with the last of her 1,013 orgasms. "We'll figure something out, but not here." Closing her trenchcoat, she went to the office door. "I'll see you in his office," she murmured, came twice and left.

The instant the door shut Mulder whirled and, grabbing an aerosol can from a nearby shelf, sprayed a bright orange "X" over the spot they had consummated their professional respect.

Moments later Mulder reported to Assistant Director Skinner's office, disrobed, and took a seat to wait. He observed the assorted restraining devices with a practiced eye and smiled as he counted the orange "X"s scattered throughout the room. Skinner entered the room, adjusted his cock ring and leaned on the edge of the desk. "Where is Agent Scully?" he said.

"She took time out to have another kid."

"Well, let's get started." Skinner reached across his orange-coated desk and selected a file folder, holding it up in front of Mulder in one huge hand. "There have been reports of people being attacked by the elements in Pennsylvania. One woman was blown into a car wash during the wax cycle, a young model was struck by a wave in water on a busy street and washed into, um, a wall, yeah, another... beautiful... lady burst into flames in front of, oh god, in front of several witnesses including the may... the may... the, oh, the MAYOR! AH! Oh, yes, yes!" Skinner fell back across his desk, exhausted and spent.

Mulder took the file, carefully so as not to get it sticky, and checked out the centerfold. Scully poked her head out from underneath Skinner's desk where she had been hiding. "Walter," she complained, "aren't you going to sit dow... oh, shit." Pouting playfully, she pointed at her employer's damp but still turgid whanger. "Look, dessert! And it's already got the icing on it..." She settled down for some happy slurping.

"To each his own," Mulder replied as he thoughtfully placed an open folder over Skinner's face before straddling it to mount Scully's wiggling posterior. He jackhammered her bouncing rump like a madman and still was hard-pressed to keep up with her gyrations as she went for the groceries.

"Take it, you vixen!" cried Mulder.

"Glub!" cried Scully.

"I can't breathe!" screamed Skinner.

None of them noticed the shadowy figure standing in the... in the..., well, in the shadows.

11:23 a.m.
The Age of Aquarius

East Buttfuck, Pennsylvania

The dark sedan pulled up to the curb and parked. It sat silent, rocking gently, before finally disgorging Agent Mulder. Smiling, he buttoned his jacket and made his way around the car as Scully got out, gracefully dabbing at her lips with a handkerchief and hocking out an errant hair in a ladylike manner. They strode up to the door of the innocent-looking ranch house and knocked on the front door.

"Which hapless-attractive-victim-who-looks-innocent-but-may-be-part-of-a-larger-conspiracy is this, Mulder?"

"This is the one who got blown."

Scully licked her lips. "How apropos."

The door opened to reveal Wilma Barrington, an average American wife and supermodel, dressed for her housework in a backless sequined evening gown and tiara. She raised a gloved hand to her face. "Oh! Who are you?"

The agents presented their identification; Mulder, his badge and Scully, her breasts. "Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions, ma'am." They began to enter the house when the music suddenly swelled up and a freak wind blew across the yard, enveloping all three in a whirlwind of leaves and debris.

"Oh, my God," exclaimed Scully, "the wind blew all our clothes off!"

Mulder nodded. "You know, instances of this can be traced all the way back to 1947 in the 16 mm film "Poon With The Wind", with Gracie Gabonzas and Spencer Tracy. There's also the concept of the trickster god who appears as a coyote in many North American mythologies, as a monkey in African ones and as Loki in Norse mythology."

Scully looked up at him. "How the fuck do you know all that, anyway?

"I wrote this episode. Why do you think you have so few lines?"

Wilma looked at them both solemnly. "We'd better have sex."

11:23 p.m.
State of Contentment

Mulder tossed the empty spray can onto the couch and leaned back against the pile of burst fruit, exhausted. "God, I was good."

Wilma looked up blearily from the hammock and began untying her ankles. "I have never, never had anyone do the things to me that you have, and I thank God for it. When you stuck your gun barrel up me, it was unloaded, right?"

"The safety was on. Where's Scully?"

"She said something about the People's Choice Awards. Can you unlock this?"

The tall, athletic agent quickly released her from her bonds before throwing her down again for a quickie and then asking her some important investigation-type questions. He quickly found out that she had been attacked by the same mysterious wind he himself had witnessed, that during the attack she heard faint laughter with an Oriental accent, and that she had been born with virtually no gagging reflex whatsoever.

Engaged as they were in the sweaty investigation, they failed to notice the shadowy character, even when he leaned over them and moved Mulder's shoulder aside to get a better look. Cigarette butts rained over them like carcinogenic popcorn.

Suddenly the front door burst open to reveal Scully, wind blowing through both sets of red hair, sun glinting off both her oiled, 75" hooters and the gun held in her delicate fist. "Look out Mulder!" She quickly assumed firing stance and emptied the clip as fast as she could pull the trigger. Mulder and a screaming Wilma dove for cover as bullets whined past them, shattering glassware and china, tearing apart the television and completely missing the unknown stranger who had left 10 minutes earlier. Scully stepped carefully over the wreckage to find the two behind the couch finishing up. "It was a mysterious, skulking stranger in a trenchcoat," she said to Mulder's ass as it pumped heroically against all odds. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her.

"On this show? No!" He drove Wilma through 15 more bursts of pleasure before finally allowing himself blessed release, whereupon he rose, dressed swiftly and sat down next to Scully to wait for her to finish Level 4 of Super Mario Brothers. "Which of our arch-villains could it have been? Flukeman? Well-Manicured Man?"

Scully kicked at an empty Marlboro carton. "I have no idea."

"Well-Dressed Man? Manfred Mann? Rain Man?"

Scully, having been completely sexually inactive for several running minutes, suddenly shuddered with repressed desire and began masturbating with the joystick. Her game improved noticeably.

"Bat-man? David Letter-man?"

Neither paid attention as Wilma, being a supporting character, died tragically.

11:23 PM (a different one)

Yet another morgue,
this one in Washington DC

"See the size of the breasts, Scully? The relative slenderness of the waist? The full, pouting lips? She MUST have been an alien abductee! Physiological modifications are a common factor in abductions," Mulder exclaimed.

Scully sighed, adjusting her Wonderbra self-consciously. "Most of those physiological changes are performed on cattle, and they are exsanguinated and mutilated."

"Female cattle have big breasts. Come to think of it, you had some big'uns when you got abducted that time."

"That was when I was probed, had strange things implanted in me and woke up with no idea where I was. It was like nothing I had ever experienced."

"Couldn't prove it by me..." Mulder said, grinning at Scully as she put on her latex gloves with an audible ‘snap' and a delighted sigh. Grabbing a tube of surgical lubricant in one hand and the 5 feet of solid mahogany that is Agent Scully in the other, he shoved Wilma's corpse onto the floor and lowered the smolderingly seminude MD onto the wheeled table. "ARRH, Starbuck, me proud beauty. Prepare to be boarded!" He fumbled at his crotch and unfurled his manly battle-standard.

"Harpoon me, Ahab!" she cried.

Sure enough, within minutes, Mulder had penetrated Scully and was lashed to her with many yards of stout hawser. He rode grimly as she broached and sounded, the both of them blissfully unaware that they had not applied the gurney's brakes and were now rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue. The Marine standing guard near the White House popped to attention and saluted as the wriggling agents went by.

Unnoticed by any of them, a second gurney was rolling by with a shadowy figure atop it, nearly obscured by bilious tobacco smoke. Suddenly, there was a piercing scream from the lead stretcher as Scully wrapped her powerful thighs around Mulder's waist and bruised him with her shuddering megagasm.

"POLYVALENT ANTIBODY PRODUCTS FOUND IN A STATISTICALLY SIGNIFICANT NUMBER OF VOLUNTEER CASES FOUND TO INCREASE ERECTILE FORCE IN ..." At this point her voice went into a higher register and was no longer audible, though she still seemed to be chanting the Physicians Desk Reference through lust-bruised lips. Seconds later, Mulder's head snapped forward and then back as his lone gunmen fired his high-powered rounds of love into her grassy nether-knoll.

"JFK!" he screamed in conspiratorial ecstasy. Spectators began fleeing in panic as the medical motorcade passed by with the exception of one man carrying an open umbrella, which protected him from the gouts of bodily fluids. The cigarette-smoking gurney hit a pool of secret agent baby juice and skidded sideways into the reflecting pool.

Later, as their bed tooled down the beltway, they lay side by side looking up at the passing unmarked helicopters.

"You know Scully, when you get into that textbook talk you fuck so hard I can't see straight."

She smiled sweetly, licking away a drop of fluid containing Mulder DNA. "Guess I blinded you with science, huh ?"

"If I wasn't all sexed out, I'd spank you for that. Oh, well, I can always do it in Skinners office."

"You'd better."

Mulder struggled back into his FBI blues. "Well, I gotta go have a supernatural experience while you're not around. Not that this wasn't an X-file in its own right." He stepped off the rapidly moving bed and tumbled into the night, losing his cell phone in the process. A searing beam of light filled his vision as the sound of the huge vehicle bore down on him. Mulder stood, shaking, as he marshaled his courage and readied himself to face the unholy alien terror that had followed him all his life. A door in the vehicle opened. A figure appeared in the softly glowing light.

"Get the fuck out of the road, you asshole!" Mulder complied, and the truck sped off into the night. Mulder stood there in a puddle of his own urine, contemplating the night's events. Footsteps alerted him to a presence, but it was only Agent Scully stumbling up towards him.

"Mulder? Mulder, what happened? In a freak accident my top and bottom eyelashes stuck together, preventing me from seeing any of the events that transpired. What happened? Was it aliens?"

Mulder stood silently, thinking. "Yes. Yes it was, Dana. And they have something they want you to do..."

Scully sighed. "Again? I swear, I'll never understand why it's so important to these aliens that you have a blowjob every day."

"It's the only way, Scully. Who knows what evil schemes your velvet throat may be helping to contain?"

11:23 a.m.

An abandoned, dark warehouse
with no working lights anywhere at all

Mulder worked his way through the hallways, his powerful flashlight beam sweeping eerily throughout the dim. Finding an office door, he used the light to compare the office numbers with a slip of paper in his hand before nodding and silently letting himself inside.

"Is anybody there?" He closed the door behind himself and reached for the light switch.

"Please, Agent Mulder. I'd prefer to remain anonymous for the time being." The voice was deep and raspy. There was a strong tobacco odor in the air. Mulder pulled his gun and, with cat-like speed, lost it.

"And where is the lovely Agent Scully this evening?"

Mulder smirked. "Another magazine interview. I think she's wearing hubcaps this time."

"No matter, we can handle this amongst ourselves."

"When I got your note, it said you could clear up this whole mystery. How do you know what's going on?"

He could almost hear the shadowy character smile. "No one really knows what's going on, Agent Mulder. Everyone just knows their own little piece of it, the bit they're starring in. Think of it as a series of blind ringleaders. Each of them directing the circus, but none of them realizing the others' actions."

"You do realize that doesn't make a bit of sense."

"Ah, but it doesn't have to. You see, on this show, the more cryptic the pronouncements the better the fans like it. We don't even have to keep the facts straight because the little dears will knock themselves silly forcing new, even contradictory events to fit into the ongoing mythos. This very episode is a perfect example. I know that tonight's mysterious forces are a secret government effort to mimic Japanese kappa (elemental demons) with cheap Taiwanese knockoffs, but I haven't the faintest idea why. Are you listening?"

Mulder jerked awake with a start. "I am too worth more per episode than she is! What? Oh, yeah, the shadowy guy. What was that?"

The cloud of death-smoke sighed heavily. "I was saying that this is another one of those annoying episodes where you don't catch the guy and the audience never really finds out what happened. And then something tragic happens to a main character." The sound of a gun being cocked cut through the dark.

"Oh, shit. You know the mail I get every time this happens?"

Suddenly the world seemed to explode as a truck burst through the wall and came to a screeching halt inches away from the shadowy character's face. Unfortunately they were on the other side of his face, and he lapsed into nicotine-laced unconsciousness.

Mulder picked himself up, shook himself off, and started all over again. He climbed up to the door of the truck and peered into the window, frantically looking for his partner. "Scully? Are you... oh, sorry." He climbed back down and waited patiently.

Moments later Scully let herself out of the steaming cab to step daintily down by Mulder's side. "Where are we?"

"You mean you weren't using the truck in a daring, last-ditch effort to save my life?"

"No, I just like truck drivers."

"Hey, he's the guy that almost ran me down last night." Mulder looked up at Scully. "Uh, right before my alien experience. Yeah! So, he was an agent after all?"

Scully smiled. "No, I just like truck drivers. So what's his story?" she asked, pointing at the cigarette-smoking body.

"Haven't gotten there yet. I mean, come on, we haven't had Skinner shot, or seen me with my shirt off, or been harassed by a small-town sheriff who knows everything that's going on, you haven't been abducted, kidnapped or put into a messy and humiliating situation, or any of our stock plot-movers."

She stalked over to the shadowy lump and kicked it. "Get up! Who the hell are you, anyway?" She produced her flashlight from under her skirt and shone it on the supine form. Both agents stepped back involuntarily.

"I don't believe it!"

"But how could it possibly be..."

The form roused itself, shook itself a bit, farted, then stood erect. "Yes, it is I, J. Edgar Hoover. I'm not really dead, merely in hiding to ferret out hidden corruption in the FBI halls. I find I'm more effective this way. I see you're still staring, does my appearance startle you so much?"

Mulder cleared his throat. "Actually sir, it was the dress. Not that it isn't fetching, mind you..."

Scully stepped forward, skidding slightly. "And what ‘corruption' have you uncovered, sir?"

Hoover smiled. "Yours, Agent Scully." He clasped his hands behind his back and beamed at her as Mulder stared in shock. "Agent Mulder, it seems that your cool, collected partner here has been selling bootleg nude pictures of herself on the Internet. Our combat accountants have traced her personal holdings at well over 7 million dollars."

"But I've seen those pictures, they're all fake," Mulder protested.

Scully sighed. "It's true, Mulder. I scanned nude photos of myself and then superimposed stock pictures of my face over them and graphically combined the two. Everyone ‘knew' the pictures were faked, but no one knew they were real fakes. People out there are so desperate to see my body that they snapped them up. This way I got to realize my exhibitionistic tendencies and flaunt my hooters across the globe without worrying about damaging my career since no one know for sure if they were really mine. It was perfect. And I guess now it's over. I would have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for that meddling transvestite!"

Mulder stood rigid in shock. "You mean the picture of you swallowing that..."

"It was me."

"And the monkey?"

"My ass was sore for a month."

"Surely not the..."

"Two months. Mulder, it's over now, there's nothing anyone can do." A thought struck her and she looked at the shadowy Hoover appraisingly. "Or is there...?"

Hoover smiled expansively. "Scully! I'm not going to turn you in! You've done more for bureau enrollment than any recruitment drive since "The Untouchables" came out. Oh, that Eliot Ness..." he muttered, fanning himself. "Anyway, what I'm really here for is to pick my replacement. Agent Mulder, I'd like you to be that man. You have drive, you're obsessive to a dangerous degree, and you look great in taffeta."

"That was Twin Peaks, I don't do that sort of thing anymore."

"Yeah, right. What do you say?"

Just then the truck driver rose up out of the cab and addressed them all. "You fuckers are crazy! I'm gonna..." He stopped as he felt his feet leaving the ground. The redneck looked up to see a brilliant light cutting through the hole in the warehouse roof and the hovering ship drawing him in. "Aw, shit, not again!"

Mulder stared up at the majesty of the alien spaceship as it rose impossibly swiftly into the air and shot off at a right angle. "Scully, did you see that?"

Scully looked over at him. "See what?"

"Never mind."

11:23 p.m.

Scully's Apartment,
oh god, oh god, where she sleeps,
oh god yes, and, and, washes her hair, oh jesus...

Scully sat at her desk typing on her laptop. She adjusted her glasses and sipped a mug of tea before continuing. She read aloud as she typed, for some reason.

"While this particular X-File remains unsolved, the investigation itself seems to have interfered with the phenomenon as it has not repeated itself since. In the sciences of the paranormal, reproducible results are the only reliable source of... source of... dammit, Mulder, let me finish this!"

First a diving snorkel, then Mulder's head appeared from under the table. He grinned from underneath his goggles. "Hey, I finished my report. Besides, I've got to get this Lifesaver out before you get an infection..." He dove back under.

Scully stared off into space, concentrating and wriggling a bit as the unseen Mulder got settled. Finally her eyes crossed slightly and she smiled as she returned to her report.

"...the only reliable source of concrete evidence that we may use, ooh, to begin building a framework of... uh... a framework of rules governing the world of... oh yeah, right there, right there... the world we live in that accounts for... ah, that accounts, ah, ah, ah yeah! Suck it dry, you ghost-jockey, for I am a scientist! Oh, oh, I'm gonna hemorrhage..." Her laptop exploded in a scintillating shower of sparks.

So did her computer.

Drifting on a sea of squishy bliss, Scully barely heard the happy voice coming from underneath her table. "Hey, the truth is down here!"

X-Filth - The Motion Picture by theHoot Island Writing Collective

X-Filth - The Motion Picture by the Hoot Island Writing Collective

X-Filth - The Motion Picture
by the
Hoot Island Writing Collective

X-Filth - The Motion Picture
by the Hoot Island Writing Collective