(Are you biting your lip? You know what that does to me.)
What, the reader might well ask, is the relationship between this humble work of fiction, Fifty-One Shades of Gay, and the near-Shakespearean quality of E.L. James’ masterful tome Fifty Shades of Grey? Yes, you are correct, the titles are slightly similar and the story lines might seem related, but that is just pure coincidence, because officially:
The Disclaimer:This is an entirely unique work of fiction. Any similarity of characters in Fifty One Shades of Gay (FOSOG) to characters in any other published works, including Fifty Shades of Grey (FSOG), Fifty Shades of Gay (FSOG) or Fifty Shades Hidden In The Story(FSHITS), is purely coincidental and accidental. All characters contained within are exclusive and bear no intentional relationship to any characters, real or fictional, living or dead, blindfolded or just tied up. So stated, the author does not owe royalties to anyone.
Having made the above disclaimer required by my legal team, my accountant, my probation officer and my psychiatrist, I can now gush about what a pleasure it was to read of Anastasia and Christian Grey’s exploits in Ms. James’ Fifty Shades of Grey. Her character development is akin to Hemmingway and Proust—everyone seemed so real, just like people one would actually meet—and her command of prose and literature is on par with Homer, Shakespeare, Yeats, and Keaton. Her work influenced me profoundly and has given me a new reason to live. From this day forward, I will strive to be more Christ-like, oh, my apologies, more Christian-like. To do so will require I earn billions of dollars selling food to the Sudanese; pilot a custom built helicopter; grow an even more mammoth penis; learn to play Mendelssohn’s piano concertos; and to perform astounding oral sex. And then, by next week, I will have to earn billions and play Beethoven while simultaneously flying a Blackhawk helicopter and performing astounding oral sex. And that, my friends, might require some real concentration.
This minor piece of fiction is intended to be an on-line story and an interactive novel. It not only invites, it positively encourages readers to tell the author what to do. The blue-highlighted (Select) button prompts the reader to make a choice and to story to move in one direction or another. (Note to Reader: Suggestions throw my laptop against a tree will be ignored.)
The exact details for making this work haven’t been entirely ironed out; I might have it make immediate changes (what a lot of extra writing that would be) or I could collect the number of choices and write to the more popular themes, or I might just ignore suggestions entirely but continue to charge a subscription fee to “play” the story.
Oh, didn’t I mention the subscription fee? Right now you are free to read and SELECT plot lines, but just when I think I have you hooked into the story, you will be invited to join countless others, perhaps even dozens of others in supporting the work. I will begin by offering you the bargain basement, introductory, 70% off retail, subscription rate of a mere $5.00 a month . . . (My non-CPA Financial Advisor has the following suggestion: Sell one share of your Facebook stock each month and that should almost cover the cost.)
So, here is your first choice:
(Select)What a load of crap. Get me the hell out of here and refund my money!
(Technical Message: this button is currently non-functional. Hmmm, I like this game already.) (Select) Sell one share of Facebook and continue reading …scroll down….
Select to Skip this page (…..Oh, just hit Page Down, you Gen X’er, life is not a video game.)
Christian Gray- He believes he is always in control of himself as well as all of those around him. His name is Christian, not Chris; no one ever refers to him as “Chris,” occasionally as “Christ,” --as in “Oh, Christ, that hurt”--- but never as “Chris.”
Manastasia Everyman – the story’s protagonist. He is conflicted. His relationship with Christian has him stumped, even when being humped: Is it true love? Or is it something else, as Eggo, one of his inner voices, points out: “Something is not quite right with that boy; the real Christ would never ever hit anyone that hard.”
Eggo, ® (a registered trademark of the Kellogg Company) –is the controlled and controlling part of Manastasia subconscious. Whenever the plot reaches a decision point, the reader is treated to Calvinist pronouncements by Eggo, the doubting and judging voice in Manastasia’s head. As Eggo lectures us, Manastasia is treated to waffles fresh from the toaster. (As a sponsor, the Kellogg Company insisted on this plot line. Pop Tarts were also considered.)
Idiot --Eggo’s counterpart within Manastasia’s psyche. Predictably raunchy, a veritable Tasmanian devil of lust, Manastasia’s inner sub consciousness of passion that unfortunately, after all those waffles, inhabits a body more like Porky Pig than Adonis.
The Roommates – Christian’s wealth is a complete figment of his imagination. In reality he shares a squat on the second-floor of a dilapidated warehouse in one of Seattle’s least desirable neighborhoods with three other bike messengers: Marc, a straight meth-head and two double transsexuals, and Deanna and Dean, co-authors of There and Back Again). Below these four, living on the warehouse’s first floor, is a cargo-container worth of immigrants smuggled in from Lawrenceville, Kansas. They work for Rev. Fred Phelps, showing up at rallies, carrying those ridiculous signs because they get two ham sandwiches for each hour they spew his weird homophobic vitriol.
And finally, Miguel J. Gullible,Manastasia’s long suffering lover of over 30 years –who is tolerating yet another of his husband’s “re-invented” career paths; this time Miguel really thinks he should just let Manastasia Everyman retire.
Like so many couples these days, the affair begins when Christian Gray and Manastasia Everyman meet on-line. They have each purchased memberships to FantasyFun.com, a popular website promising “The Ultimate and Only Once-In-A-Lifetime, Sexual Encounter…..Until Tomorrow Night When We Promise an Even Better One.”
On his quest for thrills outside of his nearly perfect marriage of thirty years to Prof. Miguel J. Gullible, Manastasia signs onto FantasyFun.com. What does Manastasia get for his $31.95 a month? (Now Reader, doesn’t this make your $5.00 in monthly subscription fees for this story seem like a real bargain?) It initially begins as a casual hookup with metrosexual Christian Gray (again, not to be confused with E.L. James’ immortal character, Christian Grey; see earlier Disclaimer) but, in the final act, Manastasia Everyman’s affair with Christian becomes at least 51 shades of gay.
Manastasia Everyman is looking for variety, but why would someone as amazingly fabulous as Christian Gray be on FantasyFun.Com*? Christian is a moderately good looking guy, a confused metrosexual, with delusions of grandeur, a need to dominate, and, at twenty-something, he is not particularly searching for serious life-achievements.
(*Note to Reader: if you checked to see if FantasyFun.Com was a live link, you really need to disconnect your internet service and get involved in some charity work.)
Christian may dabble on both sides of the sexual fence, but his true passion lies in his commitment to philately and the discipline’s annual swap meets. Last year’s international event, held at a Marriot hotel in downtown Des Moines, Iowa, provided Christian with a mint condition 1897 British half pence misprint and a really bad case of pubic lice; his worlds often collide in odd and interesting ways.
Christian begins to dominate the terms of their relationship even in their initial dialogue. After reviewing each other’s FantasyFun profiles, Christian Gray and Manastasia Everyman begin to send each other on-line messages, testing the waters for a possible encounter.
CG: Nice profile.
ME: Thanks, u2.
CG: One question before we can even possibly get together, and you had better be honest: Do you have a wild and vivid imagination?
ME: Well, I spend most of my days in a dreamland where I try to see the good in the world and I try to believe that almost everyone I meet has something good to offer and that everyone I meet is thrilled to meet me too. I also imagine being seduced by everyone. Do you know what I mean? Is that enough of a wild and vivid imagination for you or am I just that desperate for attention and affection?
CG: I really don’t care if anyone I meet really likes me or not, so long as they will do whatever I say, without hesitation or questions, that is what makes me happy.
ME: Oh ok. So, if I am totally submissive and obedient, then you will like me…really and truly like me? That works for me.
CG: Ugh. First Rule: Never, and I mean never, put another smiley face in a text message to me.
ME: Oh, ok.
CG: Ok? Ok what?
ME: Ok, Sir.
Several furtive on-line chats later, they agree to an initial face-to-face meeting. Christian insists that it be a role play. Manastasia will play the role of a young, soon-to-graduate, cub reporter for Town and Country Magazine who interviews Christian, as himself, the incredibly wealthy, handsome, young and smoldering entrepreneur.
CG: “It would be really hot, since I am the über-rich entrepreneur and you are in the role of the young cub reporter, if you started the interview in a cab, say speeding us back through Seattle traffic to my unbelievably well-appointed office where, once we are alone, with only my loyal staff lurking in the background, you will start to answer my questions and work under my deadline.”
ME: Wow, that sounds unbelievably hot. Is it OK if I use a different name than my own?
CG: What name do you want to use or should I assign you one?
ME: No, no I have one picked out: the name I want to use is Jimmy.
ME: Yeah Jimmy, like Jimmy Olson.
CG: Jimmy Olson? The “Jimmy Olsen” from the Superman show?
ME: Yeah, I have the perfect pair of khakis and oxford cloth shirt. And I could wear a shot tie if you want.
Never, not in a million years, had Christian Gray ever thought of Superman’s side kick, Jimmy Olson, in a sexual way, but now he wondered if he had missed some sort of hidden sub-plot in the series about stripping to tights and a cape in a telephone booth.
CG: How about Lois, like Lois Lane? You could wear silk underwear.
ME: No, Jimmy would be better.
CG: Alright, just this once “Jimmy”, but remember, I am the dominant one and, because of my very powerful position in life, I am used to getting everything I want. You will have to learn to submit without question or reservation. Do you understand?
CG: Yes? Yes what?
ME Yes, Sir?
CG: That’s right.
Christian sets the date for their meeting, Saturday at noon, and he lays down the laws and rules of the encounter. Manastasia will secure a cab, turn on his cell phone and wait for text, sent by one of Christian’s un-named, but good looking, staff members. The text will contain the exact location of where to meet.
Christian dictates every possible detail including what Manastasia should eat for breakfast –yogurt and a granola bar – the use of a Mont Blanc fountain pen for taking notes during the interview and even what brand of toothpaste to use just before they meet—Crest, regular flavor, not mint. Christian despises mint.
As they continue their negotiations Christian warms to the whole scene and senses that Manastasia might be just what the early part of his weekend requires. Yeah, he is a bit older than most of his hook-ups and his pictures make him look like he won’t cry, at least not as easily as Christian would like, but what the hell, his other victim, eh hemmm, “date” canceled, and so he has his Saturday free.
For Manastasia it is far more profound; he feels as though he has made a firm, nearly sacred, commitment to Christian and now he must deliver. He is excited but he finds many parts of the plans worrisome, not the least of which is that CG insists on him bringing the actual tube of Crest toothpaste to the encounter.
As he sits down to breakfast he ponders his choices. In his head he hears arguments on both sides of the issue. Suddenly, Manastasia craves a Honey Nut Banana waffle from the toaster . . .and not just any brand will do.
Eggo®, in addition to a popular brand of waffles is also Manastasia’s inner voice of self control, his judgmental higher nature, his ego. Eggo sees something odd and disturbing about all of the requirements. Inside Manastasia’s head, Eggo mutters like an uptight born-again, holier-than-thou angel,
“What is with this guy? Yogurt and a granola bar for breakfast? You LOVE waffles, remember? And you have to get the cab?
“And, come on really, Crest toothpaste?? Telling you what kind of toothpaste to use? And then telling you to bring the tube with you? What is up with that?
“He is probably going to make you brush your teeth in front of him. That is just gross.
“Then you will have a mouthful of toothpaste-filled saliva. Nothing says ‘hot and sexy’ like spitting a mouth full of that out of a moving cab. What would people think?”
Manastasia’s other inner voice, Idiot, the id that Eggo despises, offers a counterpoint:
“I wonder how well Crest Toothpaste will work as a personal lubricant.”
In the eyes of the Idiot, this is obviously why it Christian demands Regular flavor since the mint would defiantly be problematic.
“A little more syrup on that last bite and you should bring along a tube of KY just in case,” Idiot suggests.