Saturday, December 20, 2008

Yes, Brodie, There Is An Orange Rock Dork

Once upon a time (1897), there was a little girl named Virginia. Virginia was eight years old, and having a crisis of faith, because her friends had been telling her that Santa Claus wasn’t real. So, she asked her dad if Santa was real. And her dad – as the story goes – wanted to neither lie to his little girl nor break her heart. So he passed the buck. To the New York Sun newspaper.

He told his daughter that she should write a letter to the Sun, asking them whether or not Santa was real, and then watch the paper for a response. Because if it’s printed in the Sun, then it’s true. So she wrote them a letter, and was eventually rewarded by an editorial (down near the very bottom of the editorial page) with the now-famous headline, “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus”.

Now that we’re closing in on Christmas, I thought that maybe I should start off a post with a similar headline. “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus” is an oft-referenced, oft-parodied piece of Christmas lore, and I think it only appropriate to commandeer it’s magic for my hinky little sex blog.

Fortunately, there’s been this piece (essay, column, blog post, what-have-you) that I’ve been wanting to write for years now, with a working title that parodies the “Yes, Virginia” headline. My intention was to create a piece in the tradition of Larry Niven’s classic essay “Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex” (wherein he examines the reasons why Superman could never had sex with Lana Lang, Lois Lane, or any normal human female). Only my subject matter hails not from the mythos of DC comics, but instead from their competition, Marvel.

The question I want to address has been asked by comic book fans since the dawn of time (well, more accurately, since 1961). It’s been asked on playgrounds, in treehouses, in comic shops, in (illicit) smoke-filled dorm rooms, in chat rooms, on message boards, and other likely places. But the most famous occurrence of the question was in Kevin Smith’s 1995 film “Mallrats”.

At one point in the movie, comic book fanboy Brodie Bruce (played by Jason Lee) meets Stan Lee – creator (more accurately co-creator, but that’s a tangent I don’t want to go off on here) of Spider-Man, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Iron Man, and countless others, as well as being the original architect of Marvel Universe – in a shopping mall. In between gushing bursts of hero worship, Brodie asks some of the questions that he has always wanted answers to. (Him and countless other perverted little fanboys.) Including this one:

“The Thing – Is his dork made out of orange rock like the rest of his body?”

Stan Lee, not really wanting to get into it, answers by simply saying, “It’s a superhero secret.” What a cop-out.

Well, just like the New York Sun in 1897, I’m here to give a definitive answer to the question. And my answer is, “YES, BRODIE, THERE IS AN ORANGE ROCK DORK”.

The (Sexual) History of Benjamin J. Grimm

Before examining the Thing’s sex organs, post cosmic irradiation, let’s take a quick look at his sex life, pre cosmic irradiation. Ben Grimm grew up in poverty on Yancy Street on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. His older brother Dan – whom Ben idolized – was the leader of the Yancy Street Gang. Ben snuck out of the house one night to follow Dan, only to watch him get killed during a fight with another gang. Ben later joined the Yancy Streeters, and eventually became their leader, just as Dan had once been.

Ben’s parents were killed in a car accident when he was still a teenager, and he was given into the custody of his Aunt Alyce and Uncle Jake. They lived uptown, which forced Ben to move, and abdicate his position in the Yancy Street Gang. It took awhile, but Ben’s new guardians finally won him over, and convinced him to shape up and try to make something of himself. He decided to finish high school, and discovered his football talents in the process – talents which earned him a college scholarship.

In college, he quickly became the school’s star quarterback. (College was also where he first met and roomed with Reed Richards – Ben’s future Fantastic Four teammate “Mr. Fantastic”.)

After college, Ben joined the military, becoming a pilot. He first flew combat missions, but then shifted from there to test piloting, becoming one of the best in the Air Force. Eventually, he entered the astronaut training program.

And, after being trained to pilot a spaceship, Ben got a phone call from his old pal Reed Richards, who was building his own spaceship and wanted Ben to fly it. (Originally, in the 1961 version, it was to have been the first manned expedition to the moon. The story has since been updated several times, and – last I heard – is now intended to have been the first manned flight to Mars. Although at one point in the late 80s, the original flight was to have been mankind’s first interstellar jaunt.)

This leads us to the origin of the Fantastic Four, but I’m not ready to jump right into that just yet.

Street gang leader. High school football star. College football star. Hotshot test pilot. Astronaut. When I look at this list of occupations, I see one commonality. (Well, two if you include the obvious “Positions Once Held By Ben Grimm”.) That commonality? Easy access to pussy.

I’m sure that gang leader doesn’t really scream ‘sexy’ to everyone. But it does to people living the whole street gang life. Fiction always seems to depict the leader of the gang as having his either his own girlfriend (or even just moll), or sexual access to any of the girls affiliated with the gang. I have to assume that as leader of the Yancy Street Gang, Ben was having regular sex. Then he left that when he moved, and refocused on high school . . . to become a football star.

Can you say, ‘cheerleader’? Again, not necessarily in reality, but definitely in fiction, high school football stars (especially the quarterback) are just rolling in cheerleader pussy. And once the full ride kicks in and they become college football stars, they start getting the college girls.

In college, Ben met Alynn Cambers, who became his first steady girlfriend. We don’t know at what point he met her, so I’m going to assume that there were plenty of college cheerleaders, drunk sorority girls, and friendly party chicks that he went through before finding her. I couldn’t find my copy of “The Thing” vol. 1, issue #2 (although how much of a geek am I that I know what title and issue number her story was in from memory) to reread all the details, but she dropped out of college to go to Hollywood to chase the dream of becoming a movie star. Successfully, I might add. When she did, Ben followed her with an engagement ring, and proposed. But she turned him down. She loved him – but not as much as the lure of stardom. I don’t know when during Ben’s college years that happened, but I’m also going to assume that he recovered before school was over, and did some more dating before joining the military.

Test pilots are chick magnets, aren’t they? Don’t women love a man in a uniform? And astronauts are cooler than cooler. Again: rolling in chicks.

Recent revisions/updates/retcons give him another steady girlfriend/possible fiancée (Dr. Linda McGill) during his astronaut days right up through his transformation into the Thing.

The point that I’m trying to make with all of this is that prior to being Thing-ified, Ben Grimm got his fair share of sex. The man always seemed to be in a position to make the best use of his penis. Which, depending on the specific details on the answer to the whole orange rock dork question, makes his life as the Thing an even bigger tragedy than is typically depicted in the comics.

The Origin of the Thing (and Three Other People)

So Ben agreed to pilot Reed’s rocket, not knowing that it would be the absolute worst decision of his life.

Ben started hanging out at Reed’s rocket base in Central City, California to specifically train on the rocket his pal was building. He renewed his friendship with Reed, and even formed bonds with Reed’s girlfriend Sue Storm (who Ben actually had the hots for himself in most versions of the story), and her little brother Johnny.

Then the government decides to cut their funding of the project. And even with pouring the last of the Richards’ fortune into the project, it won’t be enough to finish what Reed is trying to do. He tries to get the government officials to change their minds, but they just won’t see things his way. So, Reed decides that something drastic must be done.

A test flight. An unauthorized, middle of the night, sneak onto the base and steal our own rocket ship test flight. Sue and Johnny insist on going along, and Reed lets them. (At first, just because it was sixties comic book storytelling. Eventually because the rocket needed a four person crew.)

Everyone was willing and eager . . . except for Ben, who didn’t think that the rocket was ready. His specific concern was the radiation shielding. He was worried about the effects of the cosmic rays.

But Sue called him a coward and goaded him into piloting the rocket despite his reservations. They flew up, and proved that the rocket had insufficient radiation shielding to protect them from the cosmic rays. Oops.

The rocket crashed back to Earth, and all four of the crew discovered that they had undergone mutagenic changes. Superhero class mutagenic changes. (In a comic book story? No way!)

Reed could stretch his body. Sue could turn invisible (and later on, developed the ability to project force fields). Johnny could burst into flame, control fire, and fly. Wow! How cool does it get?

And then there’s Ben. Ben mutated into a super strong monster, with thick orange dinosaur-like hide which would eventually turn into a set of scales that looked and felt like rock.

They vowed to become superheroes (Mr. Fantastic, the Invisible Girl, the Human Torch, and the Thing), and the rest is comic book history.

Common Speculation About Just What’s In Those Big Blue Trunks

I’ve had the “what do you think the Thing’s cock looks like” conversation with people before. (I used to run a comic book store. I’ve had conversations that you wouldn’t believe.) I’ve also read speculations on the internet about the state of Ben Grimm’s genitalia. And let me tell you, there are a lot of theories floating around out there.

One of the more common theories is that the Thing simply has no penis. Which always strikes me as an odd premise. We’ve seen him eat, we’ve seen him drink. He’s obviously got buttocks, and nobody’s saying that there’s not an anus in between them for the purpose of taking a dump. How do these people think that he urinates?

I’ve actually asked that question of people in the “The Thing’s Got No Penis” crowd, and their answers range from, “His urethera isn’t in tube form, it’s more like a girl’s” to “His bodily fluids just kind of seep out between the cracks in his rocks” to the much more common, “Oh – uh . . . hmm. Hadn’t thought of that.”

I’ve also asked why they thought that the cosmic radiation would have robbed him of his penis, and I get a variety of answers, most of which are so unmemorable that I honestly can’t remember them. One sticks in my mind, however. And while it makes pretty much zero sense biologically, it makes such great stylistic sense that I had to include it in this post. The theory is as follows: The average human male has five digits on each hand, five digits on each foot, and one digit between his legs. Poor old Ben Grimm, post cosmic irradiation, has four digits on each hand, four digits on each foot, and do the fucking math. If the cosmic rays are going to snatch one digit from each hand, and one digit from each foot, why wouldn’t they snatch one digit from between his legs? And since he only had the one digit there to begin with, he’d now have none.

Like I said, it makes no sense from any kind of physiological standpoint, but it’s a brilliant esthetic theory, isn’t it? (And just for the record: The cosmic rays also stole his ears and neck, and did a number on his nose.)

Other people think that the Thing does still have his ‘male part’ down below, but that it’s only remaining function is peeing. No sexual intercourse for the Thing.

Still others believe that – being made of rock – the Thing does indeed have a dick, and that it’s always hard. Not exactly the normal priapism aliment, but just a cosmic ray induced fact of life for Ben. The phrase ‘hard as a rock’ being a literal description in this case.

I’ve heard theories that the Things genitals were mutated more than the rest of him, and are now just . . . different. Such that he’d be able to have sex with a female version of his cosmic ray altered form, but not with a regular human female.

Like I said, lots of different theories among the people who sit around and ponder this sort of question.

This Month’s Creative Team . . .

Really, the true details of the Thing’s genitals can only be answered by the writer. Well, writer and artist, I suppose. The problem with this is that the creative team changes. More and more often, these days. And with each new creative team comes new theories on how all this really works. Subplots are abandoned in favor of new plotlines, character traits are suppressed to reflect how the writer thinks that the characters would really act, and the question of whether or not the Thing is capable of a fulfilling sex life shifts seemingly randomly from “yes” to “no” to “maybe” to “beats the fuck out of me”.

One writer will have the Thing wandering around the streets, thinking about his longtime girlfriend Alicia Masters, and internalizing a lengthy thought-balloon soliloquy about how he “can’t even be a man with her”. Another writer will imply that Ben and Alicia have sex. I have my own beliefs about the Thing’s sex life, and if I’m ever hired by Marvel to write the Fantastic Four, those beliefs will be how it really is. Right up until the next writer takes over the title.

Different writers depict Ben differently with regards to his relationships to women (especially the girlfriend – classically the blind sculptress Alicia Masters). Different artists even depict him as looking somewhat different than their predecessors had him drawn.

80s era FF writer/artist John Byrne said that his version of the Thing was built less like a human and more like a starfish. Still a bimanus biped – two arms, two legs – but a noticeably different body shape when running around. (And I always got the sense from Byrne’s stories that sex wasn’t a viable option for Ben, meaning that the orange rock dork either didn’t exist, didn’t work . . . or was mutated past usefulness.)

More recently, in the first issue of writer Mark Waid and artist Mike Wieringo’s first issue on the title, there’s a scene where the team (and an observer) are in an interdimensional transport en route to a routine scientific mission when this verbal exchange goes on between Johnny (the Human Torch) and the Thing in the ‘backseat’.

Johnny (more and more insistently over several panels): Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Ben: Ha! I knew it! Reed toldja t’drain the lizard before we left, Matchstick!
Johnny (with a hand raised): And this is your business how? All those who even remember owning a reptile, raise your hands.

I read this and thought, “Oh, no . . . not another ‘Ben has no penis’ writer . . .”

Several months later, Mark Waid appeared at the twice-yearly Portland Comic Show. This was about the time that my brother was starting to get into comics, so he decided he wanted to go, and asked if I wanted to tag along. I took a stack of comics with me for some of the writers and artists to sign, and as Mark Waid was signing a couple of the issues I’d brought, I asked him, “Just out of curiousity, are you writing the Thing as not having a penis?”

He lifted his pen up from the book and just looked at me for a moment. (Apparently not a question he gets asked often, I guess.) Then he smiled, and continued signing. “No,” he told me. “I’m just writing the Human Torch as being a complete jackass.”

My Possible Theories

First of all, it’s important to note that the Thing is not ‘made of orange rock’. He is, according to Marvel, “covered in an orange, flexible, rock-like hide”. This is usually expressed by the writers as Ben’s flesh being covered in scales with the look and texture of stone (although we do occasionally hear other interpretations).

The early evolution of the Thing had his skin start out looking like dinosaur hide, which slowly (over the course of many issues) refined itself (as Jack Kirby slowly refined how he wanted to draw the character) into the craggy, stone-based character we all know and love.

(Also, back in 2002, Marvel revealed that the Thing was Jewish. So thankfully, we don’t have to concern ourselves with what an orange rock foreskin would look like, and how it would function.)
I have my own theory as to what the effects of the cosmic rays were on the Thing’s cock. (Which I’ll get to when we reach the next subheading.) But I’ve also got some back-up theories.

The cosmic rays mutated the Thing. The most obvious (clothed) mutation was turning his skin into an orange rock looking hide. But as I noted earlier, that was the end result of an evolutionary process. The first immediate change to Ben Grimm’s flesh was to turn it into what amounted to dinosaur hide. That early version of the Thing was also big on rage. Now, obviously, anyone going from handsome chick magnet astronaut to monster is going to be a little pissed off. But were the Thing’s early rages just his inner human trying to cope with his outer monster . . . or was it something more? Could the cosmic rays have mutated his brain a little, giving him the kind of propensity for rage that wild animals have?

Dinosaur skin, wild animal rage, . . . why not animal penis? The kind that retracts inside the body when not in use. We’ve never really seen much of a bulge in those shorts he wears (of course, most superheroes are prancing around in spandex with no tell-tale bulge, so that really doesn’t mean much). Maybe the Thing actually doesn’t have an orange rock dork all the time . . . just when he needs it. I accept that it’s possible that the cosmic ray transformation left him with interior testicles, and a retractable penis that dangles when he needs to pee or when he’s aroused, but crawls back up inside of him otherwise. That’s theory number #4.

Here’s theory number #3: The Thing’s got a big cock, covered in the same orange rock-like scales as the rest of him. Probably the more flexible type of scales, like the ones on his face surrounding his mouth. And while there’s a difference (mainly in weight, firmness, and the direction it points) between it’s flaccid and erect states, it’s pretty much the same size and shape either way.

I went to school with a guy who joined the military after graduation. He ended up stationed at a base on the east coast, and while there, he befriended one of the civilians in town. This guy was described to me as being a big beefy cabdriver, and during this little story, I’m going to be calling him Fudd (not his real name).

Fudd was openly bisexual. My friend was straight, but wasn’t homophobic, so they had some interesting sexual discussions. When talking about his own endowments, Fudd said that he was a little under four inches limp, a little over seven hard. Fudd once told my friend that he knew a couple of guys who were between nine and ten inches when erect. But that the most interesting thing about them was that they were also between nine and ten inches when limp. Arousal made them harder, but not bigger. Not really even that much thicker.

I don’t know – and it doesn’t really matter – if that’s the kind of equipment that Ben had pre-transformation. The little cosmic radiation storm evolution that worked its magic on him would have (according to this theory) altered the Thing’s cock to that format when it covered it in his trademark rocky hide so that it would function properly. Otherwise he might have ended up with something like . . . well, something disastrous, like the penis from theory #2.

“What’s so bad about theory #2,” you ask? Hmm. Take one flaccid penis. Completely cover it with a series of interlocking stone-like scales. Then arouse it’s owner.

Ben gets excited. Blood rushes down to his groin, and starts to fills his corpora cavernosa. Pre-transformation, this would result in an erection. But post-transformation? Post-transformation those interlocking scales covering his penis define it’s size parameters. Not it’s minimum size. Not it’s maximum size. It’s ONLY size.

So now the Thing is standing there with his rocky hide keeping him from getting an erection. The same exterior effect as being impotent. But oh-so-much worse in reality, because he’s still physiologically able to get hard every step of the way right up until the actual expansion of the penis.

The interior of his penis is trying to become erect, and ends up trapped inside the now-too-small exterior formed by the scaly exterior. Blood may be thicker than water, but it’s not stronger than orange rock.

It’s like those cosmic rays were into some serious BDSM, and transformed Ben into not just a monster, but a monster with a built-in male chastity device. Only the ‘gates of hell’ have nothing on the Thing’s little predicament.

Any time that the Thing gets aroused, it’s not just frustrating. Not just sexually frustrating. I’d have to imagine that it’s incredibly painful.

And that’s what’s so bad about theory #2.

My Actual Theory

Which brings us to my actual theory. Theory #1. The explanation of how the Thing’s penis would officially function if I was writing the Fantastic Four.

Take one flaccid penis. Completely cover it with a series of stone-like scales. Not interlocking stone-like scales, just stone-like scales. What we’re talking about here is the effect of covering the dork in question with individual orange rocks instead of a flexible single sheet of orange rock. Then, once you’ve covered the penis in the stone-like scales, arouse it’s owner.

Blood flows into the corpora cavernosa, which has the physiological effect of making the penis expand in size. It gets longer. Thicker. Harder. And as it does this, the ‘rocks’ covering the cock – the rocks which provided perfect cover for his small, limp penis – push apart from each other like a rapid form of continental drift triggered by a massive expansion of the Earth. (It’s normal to reference geological phenomenon like continental drift and the expansion of the Earth in essays on sexuality and penis size/function, right? Sure it is.)

Ben’s penis, now fully erect, still has orange rock on it, but – depending on his flaccid-to-erect ratio – they’re either evenly scattered little islands of rock on an ocean of dick, or a landscape of orange rock containing a great many canyons and chasms where they separated from one another during the erection process.

(Either way, it doesn’t seem ideal for a potential partner. If ‘ribbed’ is for her pleasure, then what the fuck would ‘jagged’ be for?)

And as for what the dork looks like in between the orange rocks? Hmm. If I had to guess (and since I’m writing about this, I suppose I do have to guess), then I’m thinking that we’d be looking at red raw meat. Those orange rocky scales function as his hide – his outer layer. On the occasion that he’s lost one in battle (depending on who’s writing the story, and what the plot purpose is in him losing a ‘rock’) he either starts gushing out blood, or is simply left with an exposed section of meat that looks like body tissue with some of the flesh (at a minimum the outer layer of skin) removed.

Ben Grimm, more than most men, is going to need a condom. Kevin Smith tells a story on “An Evening With Kevin Smith” (can’t remember if it’s Vol. I or II – you should watch both anyway, they’re hilarious) about having sex for the first time with his future wife while sporting a open ‘zipper wound’ on his white flesh dork. I seem to recall a hearing the phrase, “it felt like dipping my cock in battery acid” or something similar during the story. With lots of his normally completely rock covered dong now exposed to the elements, protection is a must. Of course, I’d imagine that getting a condom on over that field of craggy rock without it ripping or tearing might be next to impossible.

I suppose what he might actually need is a custom fitting appliance of some sort that fills in the gaps. Turn his ugly and dangerous cock into a far more usable sex tool. Of course, you’re probably asking the question, “Where would he get such a phallic add-on?”

Gizmos, Doohickeys, and Frammistats
“I Get Off With a Little Bit of Help From My Friends”

(My spellchecker doesn’t recognize the word ‘frammistat’. It offers no spelling suggestions. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually seen the word used outside of the Fantastic Four comic book, or other comics in which the Thing appears. In Ben Grimm’s vocabulary, the technological results of Reed’s genius tend to be gizmos, doohickeys, and frammistats.)

One of the key character element of Reed Richards is his guilt over having been responsible for turning his best friend into a monster. Reed’s main research project (under most writers, anyway) is finding a way to reverse the transformation that turned Ben Grimm into the Thing.

(Of course, I said main research project, not only research project. Reed’s always multitasking multiple experiments at once. Saving the world with technology. Building devices as the plot develops a need for them. Maybe even building actual plot devices. Who knows?)

In addition to trying to find a way to turn Ben human again, Reed also tries to find ways to make Ben more comfortable as the Thing to improve his life until that cure can finally be found. And while I very much doubt that Ben ever came up to Reed, pointing down at his crotch and saying, “I can’t fuck anybody with this – can you help me out?”, I’m equally sure that Reed has built his best friend some kind of gear to ease his sexual tension.

The previously mentioned appliance to smooth out the surface of Ben’s cock and protect the raw penile meat left otherwise exposed would be a good example of this. Reed’s always making Ben stand under scanners for hours at a time while he takes various readings and measurements and runs tests of all sorts. He could easily have found out everything he needed to know about the state of Ben’s manhood without ever asking a question, built the appliance, and left it in a box with instructions in his room. No need for either to ever mention it. But suddenly Ben can look into getting his groove back.

Most writers interpret Ben’s condition as having limited tactile senses. Not a lot of sensitive nerve endings in orange rock. While he might be able to learn the alphabet and become fluent in it’s use, I doubt that the Thing would ever be able to read Braille with his senses-deadened fingertips. So: Is his cockhead in the same sensory boat as the rest of him? And if so, what would Reed’s technological response to that be?

I envision a high-tech cockring that emanates a sensory augmentation field, flowing down past the scales to find nerve endings, and transmitting sensations from the form-fitting energy field surrounding his penis down to them, giving him back sexual pleasure.

(Of course, I also imagine Reed building a series of sex toys with similar sensory augmentation equipment. It’s hard to masturbate if you can’t feel your cock.)

What Does He Do On Dates?

Ben has had several girlfriends since his transformation into the Thing. The longest (and seemingly default) girlfriend is the blind sculptress Alicia Masters, daughter of Fantastic Four villain the Puppet Master.

He fell for an alien (humanoid, but officially extraterrestrial) named Tarianna on another world, and upon his return to Earth from that series of solo adventures, met a woman named Sharon Ventura who was Tarianna’s exact duplicate.

He chased after Sharon for awhile, but didn’t actually become seriously romantically involved with her until after a cosmic ray storm (temporarily) mutated him even further . . . and mutated her into a female version of the Thing that they ended up calling the She-Thing.

[And that’s all that I’m saying about the She-Thing here. I’m already over 5000 words, and talking about Ben’s sex life with Sharon would make this already long-assed post just ridiculously longer. Anyway, even though I’m not even finished writing this post, I’ve already started considering this to be just the first draft of a more involved work somewhere down the road. An illustrated essay, if I can find the appropriate collaborator. An illustrated essay with scary, scary pictures of orange rock dorks. There will be room for weird biological theories on Ben mating with the She-Thing in the longer version of this piece.]

He dated an executive from Damage Control (this is the company that keeps rebuilding New York after the big super-hero brawls keep tearing parts of it down) named Kathleen O’Meara. And Ben flirts with (and is flirted with by) a whole slew of other women.

So, according to my theory, Ben has a functioning (albeit problematic) penis. Ben has a good friend who’s a scientific whiz capable of building all sorts of sexual gizmos to deproblematicize the penis. Sex with the girlfriend should be no problem.

Of course, I could be wrong. My theory could be in err. The orange rock dork could be non-functional, or too dangerous even for Reed’s tech to render usable. So what happens if that’s true?

Well, he’s got fingers and a tongue, doesn’t he? Depending on who’s drawing him, his fingers are huge. Some artwork depicts his digits as being bigger than the average penis in length and girth. For safety’s sake you’d want him to wear a rubber glove so that no delicate vaginal folds end up getting pinched between his rocks. But he could definitely give most women a thrill just with a simple fingering.

And I don’t know how long the Thing’s tongue is, but we’ve seen it in his cosmic ray altered mouth when he yells and hollers, and it’s both thick and wide. Could make for some interesting oral sensations.

The Inevitable Stupid and Sophomoric Musings

Among Ben’s ‘titles’ (mostly self-granted) are: The Idol of Millions, Mama Grimm’s Baby Boy, Aunt Petunia’s Favorite Nephew, and – by far the most common – The Ever-Lovin’ Blue-Eyed Thing.

Ever-Lovin’: Could this mean “always making love”? A subtle clue to all and sundry that once the big blue trunks come off, he’s still all man, and ready to fuck at the drop of a hat (or more likely, the drop of a pair of dampened panties)? Or is it an ironic nickname, like calling a huge man ‘Tiny’? Something to ponder, I guess.

And finally, when Ben is at the brink of orgasm, does he holler his battle cry? When he’s balls deep in Alicia (or getting that accomplished sculptor’s handjob, or whatever) and just about ready to cum, do the neighbors suddenly get to hear that “It’s Clobberin’ Time!”?

Anyway: Yes, Brodie, it does exist. Orange. Rock. Dork.


Anonymous said...

That was some serious geeking you went through for this and I can appreciate it a great deal.

The Superman/Lane gave me a flashback to a con event where I overheard the same conversation. Back and forth so I just went "artificial insemination" as I walked by. The geek arguing against lane ever surviving a pregnancy simply sneered and said "the fetus would kick and kill her" so I replied "with what sunlight?" and kept walking. It was oh so funny that his sparring partner laid into him then.


Zeitgeist the Clown said...

"With what sunlight"? That's brilliant! (Pun not intended). I've heard the artificial insemination argument before, but I never thought about it being dark in there.