In the last few months I’ve been hearing quite a bit about naughty books that fall under the label ‘monster erotica’. These are stories that feature intimate encounters with dinosaurs, Bigfoot, and other critters one doesn't typically associate with getting sexy.
The raptor cover makes me laugh. Is it just me, or does that dino look like a drunk frat guy saying, Oh boy. Boobies!
This is certainly on the fringe of what one would expect to find titillating. Of course, I write about double-donged aliens, so who am I to judge? Yet I just can’t figure out who would be excited at the thought of being frisky with a T. Rex or Sasquatch. For one thing, when I’m fantasizing about getting eaten, it rarely includes the threat of actually getting eaten. And getting it on with a hairy, smelly creature that makes me think of an unwashed Chewbacca? Um, no. But that’s just me.
Put your pants on, boys. So not gonna happen.
I can’t even summon the curiosity to read one of these books. I have no idea if they’re well-written and edited. I don’t know if there’s a good story behind it. Does Bigfoot offer his human sweetie a bouquet of flowers he picked for her in the meadow? Is there a heartwarming scene in which they make s’mores in his cave over a roaring campfire? I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Ditto for the dinos.
The truth is, we all have different things that turn us on. As the Wiccan saying goes, ‘An it harm none, do as ye will’. Hey, if you want to do the Triassic tango with a velociraptor in your wildest fantasies, have at it. You’re not hurting me or mine, so go right ahead. After all, I’m the chick watching the skies in the hope of hitching a ride on a flying saucer. We’ve all got our thing.
Wrong ship. Wrong alien. Oops.