5 Ridiculous Works Of Highbrow Erotic Fan Fiction

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.

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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!

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.

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"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.

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.

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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.

The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy is one of the most influential comedies ever written. Naturally, everyone who laughed at Betelgeusian Ford Prefect's alien antics wondered what would happen if this upbeat and resourceful character fell into incredible depths of despair. It's sort of like how after Harry Potter ended we all wanted to know what agonizing disease an elderly and senile Potter would eventually die from.

Arthur sighed as Ford stumbled into the kitchen area, completely ignoring the human, and grabbed a bottle of cheap whisky from one of the cupboards. His friend was in a permanent zombie-like state these days, trudging from one barren day to the next, endlessly out of his mind on booze and casual sex.

In "Descent," Ford drinks himself to death while feeling so sorry for himself that Marvin would tell him to get his shit together. Meanwhile, Arthur Dent does what he can to help while lamenting his inability to do more. Together, they fight crime! Just kidding. Together, they suffer existential despair!

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It's still happier than Mostly Harmless.

I know what you're thinking. I just finished getting you all hot and bothered with stately shower sex and The Theory And Practice Of Erotic Lactation, and now I'm going to pull the velour rug out from under you with a story that isn't sexy at all? Well, wait until you see what happens when an alien shows up to collect a debt from Ford!

"Listen, you pathetic excuse for a monkey," the creature snarled, its eyes sparking with rage and lust. "I'm going to fuck something on this bloody ship, and if its not him its you."

Said creature is a 7-foot-tall canine, which you'd expect to show up at an airport hotel convention center and offer you MDMA, not threaten to rape your best friend. But Arthur heroically takes one for the team.

The wolf-like beast lost no time in grabbing his shoulders roughly and pushing him onto the bed. It clambered on top of him, a delighted snarl starting up in its throat as it casually controlled him.

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Wait a second, this is just a blatant ripoff of my Attack Of The Gay Werewolves screenplay.

Shit, sorry, you were right earlier. This is about as sexy as an amateur colonoscopy. But it's all worth it when Ford wakes up unsodomized and resolves to get his life in order. What follows is a sort of Choose Your Own Adventure. In the happy ending, Arthur contracts a minor STD, which makes Ford realize his sacrifice. Arthur shrugs off getting raped by a wolf-monster like it's a mild hangover and confesses his love for Ford, and they live happily ever after.

In the gritty ending, the infection is much worse and Arthur soon dies of Space AIDS, leaving Ford alone and reduced to again drinking his sorrows away.

He turned his head to see the bottle on his bedside cabinet, kept there as a test of his will. ... He licked his lips, remembering how all the agony in the world would crystallise into perfect sense thanks to the blessed demon. He felt the dead weight of the lifeless body in his arms, felt the weight of his guilt grabbing at his spirit.

He reached out.

And an angel fell.

Comedy gold!

The door opened and in the doorway stood orange8724, and from behind her light flooded into the darkened room and made apricot2516 squint.

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He turned back to the soft glow of his monitor and the infinite sexual possibilities
that lay within its confines and within his own soul.

What are you doin on the computer at this late hour, she said.

Writin no country for old men fanfiction.

Why.

Why does any man do anything.

Aint being able to read hundreds of stories of luke skywalker laying with captain kirk enough for you.

apricot2516 turned and stared at orange8724 and turned back to his monitor.

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Sometimes I dont understand you, she said and she shut the door.

She's the one that dont understand he thought as he typed the words that were harbingers of the pandemonium that lay within his soul and his erection. The way that story ended just aint right. Anton may have been a personification of violence but that dont mean he dont have the desires of man. And Carla Jean may have been a widow he created and swore to kill but that dont mean she cant find him attractive. He looked at the story that had come out of him like a child birthed in the dark.

"Then why do you have to do it?" she asked softly, daring to lightly touch his cheek and hair.

"Because I am a man of my word. But ..." he trailed off momentarily, "I never specified how ..." Her touch was making him lose his mind.

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I reckon this is the stronger ending, apricot2516 thought, for what are violence and
broken promises against coital desire?

Carla's heart began to beat rapidly as she watched him retrieve the weapon from the corner. He turned steadily and she winced, expecting to be blown away, but instead felt the cold metal gently against her stomach. He was smiling and motioned for her to look down. In his other hand he held the bullets, proving the gun was not loaded and of no threat to her.

"So ... what about this quick and painless method of yours?" she asked hesitantly as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rested his hand cupped under her chin.

"You have to earn it."

Why, she asked. There are stories men want to tell and stories that eat their way out of their heads like an animal possessed by forces beyond its mortal reckoning. And so apricot2516 released his no country for old men romance to the internet like a young man released to the world and fanfiction.net gathered it up in its immense and terrible database and promised apricot2516 that his story would never die but that the men who pleasured themselves to it one day would. That was enough for him.

You can read more from Mark, or see his apology to Cormac McCarthy, at his website.

For more from Mark, check out 5 Ways Atheists Argue Their Cause (That Aren't Helping) and 4 Ways Growing Up Changes The Way You See Video Games.

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