I'm endlessly fascinated by fan fiction, and I swear it's not just because I'm cripplingly lonely. There's something special about an anonymous stranger dedicating their limited creative time and energy to making their favorite fictional characters bone in ways that would make Dan Savage blush.
But aside from the sex, most works of fan fiction remain true to their source material in spirit. Harry Potter may have been turned into an 8-foot-tall Asian woman who beats Voldemort into submission with her pendulous breasts and then marries a dragon, but she still saves the day. But sometimes a writer looks at a classic literary work and thinks, "Nope, they got that just all wrong," and takes it upon themselves to rewrite history. The results are ... memorable.
#5. Gatsby Is Alive, Horny
Warner Bros. Pictures
The official novelization of Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby is a landmark in American writing. A tragedy that ends with the titular character dead after his single-minded obsession with former flame Daisy Buchanan turns disastrous, Gatsby deals with themes of decadence and attending parties thrown by people who don't grasp irony. To some, Gatsby's death is a warning about the hollowness of the American dream. To fan-fiction writer Decipher Philosophy, it is very sad.
In "Gatsby Alive," narrator Nick Carraway stumbles upon the climactic murder with all the awkwardness of your parents walking in on you masturbating.
Nick walked in haste towards the pool to stand behind George who held a gun towards Gatsby. The only thing Nick could think of was to shout the name's name, "JAY!"
It wasn't a bright move. It surprised George that he turned around, and shot Nick himself.
Play this to truly capture the scene's tone.
Don't worry; Nick gets out of the hospital faster than it takes most of us to get our order at Chipotle. His actions turn Gatsby into a stalker who bombards Nick with clothes, cigars, servants, and a new car, all while staying more hidden than I did at prom. It's only when Nick decides that it would be best to leave town before Gatsby gifts him a suit made from the skin of his enemies that the man shows his face. Nick takes the opportunity to drop some truth bombs.
"Face it! The woman you love will never love you back! You are just her rebound!"
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"Now let's get crunk, boiiiii!"
After a brief argument, Gatsby drops his lifelong fascination with Daisy as though it was that month he got really into Pogs. Luckily, there's someone else in his life who means a lot to him.
That man walked out that door only to stop, turn around and then walk right back in to kiss Nick passionately on the lips. It was a full frontal assault that the bombs exploded in full force into foreign territory.
Nick kissed him back with more passion as if finding vengeance on the air force base that bomb his territory.
Their oddly specific aerial-warfare-themed loving doesn't stop there. We learn that Gatsby has a "big beautiful cock" and a "rich musky scent," two details it's shocking Fitzgerald neglected to mention. And Nick knows his way around big, beautiful cocks.
"Dang it, Nick. Where did you learn to be so good?"
"The army can make you desperate for a good time when most of the time there's men. Had my first blow job there."
Gatsby ain't half bad at sausage-sucking himself. Maybe that's how he really earned his nickname.
"Oh! Oh! G-Gatsby! OH WHOA! OH MY GOHD! WAIT! JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" The man came without any control as he shrieked a sound that wasn't human.
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"WHOA! BOY HOWDY! THIS ORGASM SURE IS THE BEE'S KNEES, GATSBY!"
After several rounds of sodomy, we cut to the epilogue, in which Daisy is disappointed that Gatsby now treats her differently, Nick wonders how she could ever give up such a hunk of a man, and Gatsby is finally content with life. Let that be a lesson, folks: There's nothing wrong with a five-year monomaniacal obsession over a love that could never be, because eventually you'll stumble dick first into a perfect relationship with your neighbor. That's the American dream, baby!
#4. Atticus Finch Gets Lucky In The Shower
As you may remember from your legally required school reading of To Kill A Mockingbird, Atticus Finch was a widower. Despite suffering a great personal tragedy, he resolved to fight tirelessly for righteousness, all while being a great father and inspiring Daredevil to pursue law.
But to one writer, Harper Lee's exploration of inequality, injustice, and the end of childhood innocence was merely an aside to the tale of a lonely lawyer who worked out his sexual frustration through impassioned court speeches. In "My Night With Atticus," we return to a simpler time, when future heart-attack victim Mrs. Finch just wanted to take a shower.
I turned around to find my husband standing there looking like he was filled with some sort of strong emotion.
A naked Atticus materializes silently behind his wife like a sex Terminator. Mrs. Finch reminisces about the great love life they've had, but notes, "We had never made love where it involved water." History is about to be made in the Deep South.
Better turn that to hot.
Atticus wastes little time with pleasantries before trying to lick his wife's uvula. After a kiss that would make the French disown their claim to it, Mrs. Finch stands back to admire her husband's physique.
I loved his hands for their masculinity and how strong they looked. ... His chest was pretty muscular and he had practically no chest hair which was something I loved about him. Then again I loved every inch of him.
"There are eight inches she especially likes, if you know what I mean."
After the author makes it clear she wants to bang Gregory Peck, we get a sample of his silver tongue.
"Does my body drive you wild with desire?" he asked.
"More than anything in the world. You have no idea how much I love you Atticus. Hearing your name is the sweetest symphony to my ears."
"I feel precisely the same and I'm sure you're aware that I want to show you that at this very moment more than anything."
Atticus Finch: smooth-talker on the streets, stilted robot in the sheets. I was joking about him being a sex Terminator, but now I'm not sure. When the main event comes, it's not that raunchy, but something about discovering the sexual prowess of one of the most esteemed characters in literary history is uncomfortable. It's like discovering what gets your dad going.
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"Classic car maintenance and complaints about capital gains taxes!"
We learn that Atticus makes an "almost inaudible grunt" when he enters his wife and that usually they enjoy "hot animalistic jungle-like sex," but that tonight is sentimental, and that he lets out "the most seductive groan" when he ejaculates. Moments after bringing his wife to a thundering orgasm, Atticus outputs, "Perhaps we should get to bed now. ... It's probably past midnight and we both need to rest. I'd continue to express my love but I'm mighty tired and you look it too." Then he plugs himself dick-first into his charging station.
Interestingly, the story establishes that it takes place shortly before Mrs. Finch went to meet her maker and talk his ear off with praise for creating Atticus. The tone of To Kill A Mockingbird changes when you imagine there's a rumor going around town that Atticus accidentally fucked his wife to death.
#3. Big Brother? More Like Big Boner!
20th Century Fox
Nineteen Eighty-Four ends on a bit of a downer, with the forbidden love between Winston and Julia proving no match for the crushing might of an overwhelming government bureaucracy. But this reimagining of the second-most-iconic dystopian work in human history behind The Hunger Games asks, "What if love had triumphed? What if Winston and Julia escaped, and the most evil government ever conceived said, 'Aw, go have fun, you crazy kids!'?"
"Hey! Remember to use protection and be a generous lover!"
This version of Big Brother feels like he wandered out of Mary Poppins. People treat their oppressive government like a minor inconvenience on par with the store being out of soy milk; Winston and Julia are so happy they're raising a daughter that they don't care about living in squalor with the Proles, and the best part of escaping the Party is a sex life so awesome their neighbors always have to yell at them to keep it down.
"Ex-party members," they had heard, muffled by the wall.
"Ah, well I can't say I blame 'em, I seen their all bloody Anti-Sex rot all over the place! It's bleedin' ambitious, is what it is! Ye can't just get rid 'f it, iss natural-like, innit?"
As implied by the lisping Scottish pirate, ex-party members enjoying wild sex are as common as drunken frat boys in our world. "Don't mind the noise, it's just another horny couple that escaped a life where one wrong word can mean intense psychological torture!" With that established, Winston and Julia obviously go on to explore the wonders of erotic lactation.
With a brief spell of fumbling, Winston had established a steady rhythm of sucking. It struck Julia that he nursed like their daughter: ravenously, and seemingly without a care in the world for whoever was on the giving end of the milk flow. ... She listened to his quiet moans of contentment, the occasional smacking of his lips, and an unbidden stir of arousal reared its head.
So that's why some people get all worked up about breastfeeding in public.
Julia is so turned on she has no choice but to teach Winston the concept of oral sex.
Winston squinted at her. "Surely not! Who on Earth told you that?"
"That's irrelevant. Just do it."
He raised his brows at her, took a deep breath and did her bidding.
Winston instantly kills it, continuing our run of older, conservative literary men who are inexplicably dynamos in bed. Then, the "two trailblazers pursuing the dizzying highs of carnal pleasure with giddy abandon" end as they began.
She considered letting him know that it was over, assuming that he was unaware that despite the supply-and-demand system, there are intervals during which a mother can find herself effectively empty. But she looked at his sweet, sleepy face, the drooping eyelids, the slow, lazy sucks, and let him be.
Forty years it had taken him to learn that he wasn't plotting against his totalitarian government; he just wanted to score a little breast milk. Oh cruel, needless misunderstanding! Oh stubborn, self-willed exile from the leaky breast! He had won the victory against a reluctant girlfriend. He loved erotic lactation.