CC Writes a Smutty Novel by Lucy M

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Chris Carter Writes a Smutty Novel by Lucy Marchmont

Title – Chris Carter Writes a Smutty novel (1/1)
Author – Lucy Marchmont
E-mail address – [email protected]
Rating – PG-13
Category – S, R, Humor
Spoilers – Fight the Future, All Things, Existence
Keywords – Mulder/Scully romance
Summary – Twenty years hence, Chris Carter decides to write an erotic novel, detailing Mulder and Scully’s first time, only to discover that the time delay has made it hard to find an original idea.

Distribution: Sent directly to Gossamer. I am more than happy for it to appear elsewhere, no need to ask permission.

Disclaimer: Clearly nothing to do with me, but I have my own multi million dollar fortune with which to fight lawsuits – Chris Carter, if he truly exists, belongs to himself.

Author notes: I discovered fanfiction very recently, and only came across it by chance while looking up the X Files (being overseas I was curious to find out how the baby issue was resolved), and this little piece is intended as a tribute to all those talented authors who write these stories. I have no idea if the following scenarios exist, so apologies if there is anything similar out there. Nor is this intended in any way as a literal portrait of Chris Carter, about whom I know very little, other than what I saw in a television documentary late last year which stated he was once a surfing journalist. And now, on with the story …

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Chris Carter Writes a Smutty Novel

Chris Carter was enjoying his retirement, no doubt about it. Life was good, and he was pleased and flattered that twenty years after its demise people still loved and remembered fondly the series that had made his name, ‘The X Files.’

Yet he was still asked to explain ‘THE TRUTH.’ How, the masses implored, did Mulder and Scully get their baby, and when did they do IT for the first time?

Ah, yes, IT. Few had equaled this achievement: one of the sexiest shows ever made, and yet – No sex.

God, how he’d teased them, and God, how he’d enjoyed doing so. He had laughed and laughed at the disappointment caused by the near miss kiss in the first movie, and the ‘they must have done IT’ after ‘All Things’ had caused him many a mirthful hour.

Patience, patience, he had mentally chided them. He knew that one day he was going to give the fans all the sex they longed for, but it was going to be on his own terms. No one was going to push him into doing anything, and that kiss at the end of ‘Existence’ would suffice for the time being.

A couple of years later he made a second film, and he felt generous and indulgent (well, he might have been thinking of box office sales as well, but he wasn’t going to admit to that) when he included a tender love scene, shot in soft focus, with Mulder and Scully doing IT in their new bedroom.

The reaction of the audience was a shock. Critics, audiences, message boards, and discussion lists were incredulous. They refused to believe what they saw. The verdict was that if Chris Carter had written this scene, there must be more to it than IT. After all these years, was it really likely that Chris Carter would allow the TRUTH to be visible? They concluded it was a drug induced hallucination on the part of Mulder or Scully (possibly both), or a dream sequence from the sleepy world of an envious Frohike.

Chris Carter was surprised, but not despondent. Well, if they chose to disbelieve, that was their problem, not his. Besides, now he would go back to his earlier idea, his retirement plan, and he knew it was going to include a heck of a lot of sex.

Now, as he looked across the expanse of golden sand which was the view from his office at home, he thought of his own long held ambition. He was writing a novel. A novel about Mulder and Scully and all the great sex they had after overcoming years of repressed handholding by hospital beds, and intense forehead kisses. If that wasn’t exciting enough, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be any ordinary kind of novel.

Oh, no, his gut instinct was telling him that it was going to be part of a much more important canon than the mythology of the X Files, that of The Great American novel. For this novel had all sorts of complicated themes, and subtexts, and there were some passages of such incomprehensible wordplay that it was sure to make the reading lists of numerous college courses (and that ought to bring in the royalties, he thought, doing a few swift calculations). Could he provide the fodder for essays following Freudian and deconstruction theory? Of course he could.

He spent many happy hours, mentally penning the congratulatory review in the ‘New York Times,’ and imaging his epic work cruising its way to the top of the bestseller list.

He already had a title, and it was a good one, pretentious and literary. It was to be called ‘Siege Perilous.’

Siege Perilous was the empty seat at King Arthur’s Round Table, reserved for the knight who was to find the Holy Grail. Perfectly suited for Mulder’s quest, but with just the right touch of literary allusion to appeal to college professors. Chris checked that no author had used the title, and was relieved to see that no published novel had.

Naturally, the novel contained an X File, that was a given. He had even incorporated some of the show’s mythology, to draw those fans in too. A little bit of intertextuality was always appreciated. He didn’t really understand all the minutiae involved by now, but that had never stopped him in the past either. Nor was he worried about the case file sections of the novel. He knew most readers would be thinking Blah, Blah, X file, X file, as their sweaty fingers flicked through to find the sex scenes.

The sex scenes. He was having more trouble with them than he had anticipated. He knew he had to get this aspect right, he was only going to get one shot at the target, because he was creating the definitive account of Mulder and Scully doing IT.

Over the years his aides had informed him of a phenomena called ‘fan fiction.’ In this fan fiction, so he was told, Mulder and Scully had sex, a lot of sex. He’d felt a little affronted on learning this; they were his characters, damn it, and only he knew their sexual needs and peccadilloes. What was more, no one but him was going to let them do IT, and he wasn’t going to allow IT anywhere other than his Great American Novel.

Back to the sex scenes. He had written down a few ideas in his ever present notebook, with lists of the hows and the whys that had tipped Mulder and Scully to face this final frontier.

His first idea was that Mulder was unable to get a date for his high school reunion, and Scully reluctantly had agreed to go along, posing as his fiancee. It was cute, he thought, thinking of Mulder infuriating Scully by flirting with his favorite cheerleader (and now model for ‘Playpen’), but maybe a little trite. Probably one of those damn fan fiction writers had had the same idea. He quickly used the search engine on a site his secretary had told him about, called Gossamer. Yep, thirty five fan fiction writers had come up with that little scenario.

However, he thought smugly, it was THEY who had copied HIM, for the X Files had had their own high school reunion episode with ‘The Rain King.’ He smiled when he recalled how he had had to disappoint the writer of that one, Jeffrey Bell, when he had forced him to remove the scene in the script where Mulder and Scully had sex on top of the dead cow.

Chris began to worry a little when he found a fan fic entitled, ‘How Mulder and Scully Came to Come While Fucking on a Dead Cow.’ Something about the original script must have leaked out, he consoled himself.

Still, it wasn’t his only idea, there were many others. Mulder or Scully, frightened by a nightmare, ended up having sex with the partner who was initially only trying to console them. Or maybe it was the repercussions of a case that ended up sending one or both over the edge, a case where a vampire was trying to suck the life blood from petite red heads and beloved younger sisters. Another one he really liked involved a blow to the head (‘no, not the kind of blow to heads favored by fanfic authors,’ he smiled), resulting in amnesia where neither partner could remember the great sex they’d had after a night boozing and marrying in Las Vegas.

Then there was the location to consider. A motel room, Mulder’s couch, Scully’s bed, the possibilities were endless. His personal favorite was the Basement Office.

‘Mulder swept the files and other debris from his desk, and threw his partner upon it, and began to remove her shoes, stockings, and panties. He did so with a mixture of lust and reverence.’

He liked the sound of that. He awarded himself some points for symbolism. For, as any self respecting English Literature student would observe, the Desk represented the Round Table. When they had recovered they would have some more sex in the elevator before leaving the building, and then again at a motel – their passion was so great that neither could wait to get to one of their apartments.

Let it be understood once again, it was only curiosity which made him check the Gossamer search engine. What he found was disheartening. Everything in his notebook had been done. Scenario after scenario was taken.

With a weary sigh he wondered if he ought to play dirty. He was as broadminded as the next man, and he was trying to write erotica after all. Perhaps he would have to think of something a little kinkier.

He scribbled furiously: Mulder and Scully discover they are hiring the same male escort. Best friends, partners, and now sharing the favors of a male prostitute. Social embarrassment abound, but through the angst they admit their love for each other, and the escort is no longer needed. It was a bit seedy, but he thought he could deal with it in a subtle and classy way, and there would be the great sex when they got together.

He logged on. It had been done, only in the fan fic Skinner was also sharing ‘Brad’s’ services, before the inevitable threesome with his two favorite agents.

So had the next twenty scenarios he came up with.

In the course of his research he read a lot of fan fiction. He began to feel a little insecure. Not only had everything been done, but, well, some of the sex was explosive. How was he to compete with this? It was all smuttier than anything he had come up with thus far.

In the realm of fan fiction every character combination seemed to have been tried. Was there anyone Mulder hadn’t slept with? He had slept with Krychek and Skinner just for starters, not to mention Melissa and Margaret Scully, and even Scully’s Irish aunt Olive. It was fortunate, Chris Carter thought, that he had killed Scully’s father off in the first season, and had never introduced her brother Charles, for, no doubt about it, in this world Mulder would have banged them too.

At long last Chris had his first time and his location. There was nothing like it on Gossamer, and it involved passions close to his own heart. At least he didn’t have to waste more time on research with this backdrop.

His synopsis for his agent read, ‘Mulder, modest at his achievements in a certain sporting arena, had never told Scully he was a surfer. So it was quite a surprise when Scully, while vacationing in California, came across him at a surfing convention.’

He flicked through the four hundred pages of his half completed typescript, his eyes drawn to one line on page two hundred and forty two, ‘As Scully watched Mulder ride the crest of the next wave she knew she wanted to ride him likewise.’

Was that line a bit corny? he wondered, briefly. Oh, well, he liked it, and he skimmed the following couple of paragraphs which were devoted to Mulder’s chest.

Chris closed his eyes and thought what a terrific film it would make, with its beautiful surfer locations as Scully followed Mulder round the world to the best surfer gatherings: California, Australia and Newquay in Cornwall, England. Scully was looking pretty good in her green bikini too. He had written a rather lush description of Mulder removing the bikini, ‘as Scully’s cobalt (azure, turquoise, aquamarine, sapphire-like all had to be rejected because of fan fiction) eyes darkened with desire.’

Now for the sex. Well, he thought he could handle that without any trouble. He knew what the punters wanted, and, whatever they thought of him, he knew he could deliver. Could he spell cunnilingus? he laughed. Actually, no he couldn’t, but helpfully the spellchecker alerted him to the double n. At last, it was finished and perfect. Could he hear his Pulitzer prize acceptance speech? Absolutely.

Despite his pleasure at completion, Chris was still troubled by a few paranoid thoughts. Not even his secretary, not even his closest friends and family, had been afforded a glimpse of his masterpiece, so the chances of anyone stealing his ideas were remote. But what if? No, he had checked, it was fine.

But – just to make sure – he typed a few key words into the search engine Google, only to find a story of some ten thousand words, with almost identical story and themes, housed on the website of some little upstart calling herself ‘Special Agent Dr. Dana Katherine MSR Forever Scully-Mulder.’ So much for her disclaimer, ‘Oh, but I wish they were mine.’ She’d fucked up his millennium, that was for sure.

To add insult to injury, not only had she written a terrific X file, her sex scenes were – well – hot. Damn hot. Chris found himself loosening his collar as he read about moist pulsating tunnels and throbbing engines of love.

If this was not bad enough, to crown it all, Dr. Dana had concluded her story with a wedding on a beach after Mulder had won Olympic Gold for surfing, and the epilogue described the elation of the happy couple on the birth of quintuplets thanks to IVF. How could he top that?

Chris Carter sighed. He had always been a secret ‘shipper,’ even when no one would believe it of him.

Had he left it too late?

As a writer, he knew that a moral could be drawn: that those who don’t let their characters have sex for years and years may find all the best first times taken by others when they finally get round to it.

It was no good. He was going to have to ask for help.

He reached for his address book. Now, what was the name of that retirement home where Vince Gilligan lived?

End

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