Author: Chuck Tingle
WhatWhat: Carl starts to masturbate to a picture of a beautiful unicorn, and then his wife returns with the tabloid proof that the unicorn is, in fact, former dinosaur Bort Jenkins. Terrified and confused, Carl soon finds himself being fucked by the physical manifestation of his own bigotry, and his outlook changes.
I think we’ve all been there. Recently. Okay, maybe not THERE exactly, but in a similar though less manifest-y state of unexpected attraction. I myself am alarmed (though not entirely surprised) to find myself having to admit publicly that I am Conservative-sexual.
“He’s had a unichange.” Bambam says, disgusted. “He’s a unicorn now.” (loc 42)
“And while we’re at it, I guess you should know that you’re a repressed homosexual, too.”
Suddenly, the skull has gone a little too far for any of this to be believable. I crack a smile and stand back. “You had me going there for a minute, bu the gay male thing is just a little too much.”
“You were just at a bar full of male strippers.” The skull says flatly.
“Male unicorn strippers.” I explain. “Big difference.” (loc 190)
I close my eyes and let out a soft moan, reeling from the sensation of being held by a personified version of my own repressed sexual identity. (loc 211)
Verdict: The wife in this (Bambam) is awful, which would seem to be a trend in the Tingleverse. Oddly-named psychologically castrating wives have turned up in a few of these. It’s more bothersome than usual in this story, where various identities are celebrated but the one woman shown is awful.
But never since that one with the colour-changing dress has Chuck Tingle been so of the moment. And look, I’m not saying you should look for deep life lessons in bizarre erotic fiction, but…you could do worse, reader. You could do a lot worse.