Monthly Archives: December 2014

RAAAAAWR! (Was that sexy?)

I almost crashed the car, swerving back into my designated lane on the winding, potholed country road just in time to avoid the oncoming semi. I must have heard you wrong – what did you say?

“My last job was freelance editing pulp romances?”

No… after that.

“Oh, that there’s an explosively popular sub-genre of dinosaur porn?”

Yep, that part.

Approximately 96 seconds pass, endlessly silent, before I finally burst. “OK. Spill. I need to know about dinosaur porn.”

Disappointingly, it’s not anthropomorphized dino-on-dino action, but dino-on-human erotica. (I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.)

Apparently its market is predominantly “young earthers,” i.e., Christian whackadoodles who believe that the earth was created between six to ten thousand years ago and that dinosaurs roamed the plains during the time of early humans. Many of them involve girls “on the verge of becoming women” losing the fresh blossom of their virgin flower to some kind of lurching beast. In others, the protagonist is a modern (21st century) lass who is magically transported back in time. When she awakens, or shortly thereafter, she is ravaged by one of the massive predators, which apparently have developed an insatiable lust for white, middle-aged suburban women now that so many of them have started dropping out of the space-time continuum. (I certainly hope this isn’t spoilers for the lost episodes of Doctor Who…then again, alien/human erotica is an entirely different genre.)

Basically, the novellas follow the proscribed tropes of your standard bodice-ripping stranger-rape fantasy, but with the marauding macho man replaced with…a mastadon? No, no, my friend clarifies. There are three species of dinosaur porn star actors: the studly T-rex, the flying Pterodactyl, and the whip-smart Velociraptor.

But Velociraptors aren’t real, I protest…they made those up for Jurassic Park.


Okay, I concede that this is somewhere akin to taking issue with the science of Star Trek  because the Enterprise runs on “solid neutronium.” But why those three species? Why not the humble Brontosau…er, Apatosaurus, who, being entirely herbivorous and absolutely massive must have phenomenal oral endurance and articulation? Why not the stegosaurus, triceratops, or ankylosaurus, which could so easily milk the “horny” double-entendre?

Apparently the lure of the T-rex is his massive dino-cock. Again, I stupidly object based on science…there’s no agreed-upon scientific theory about how dinosaurs reproduced, much less evidence of the size of any dinosaur’s external genitalia if that’s even what they used. (She rolls her eyes again at my stubborn refusal to completely abandon any form of logical reasoning.) Apparently, the dino-porn genre universally agrees that the T-rex is proportionally endowed; since the scaly studmuffins averaged about 40 feet tall, any way you measure it that’s an extraordinary T-rection. Putting its genital gifts aside, though, I don’t know that I can get over its little, pointless arms flailing wildly while it roars in delight…perhaps I have just seen too many “T-rex making a bed memes” to ever really appreciate the king of dinosaurs as a sex symbol.


The made-up velociraptor, on the other hand, is usually portrayed as being actually into the romance of the coitus. (Actual quote: “Instead of tearing her to bits, the raptor begins to nuzzle at her nether regions.”) Contrary to its portrayal as  cunning, ruthless, brilliant predator in Jurassic Park, it’s apparently quite the snuggler…no word on the size of its jangly bits, but I’ll just assume that this one’s a hero for the “it’s how you use it” crowd.

I can’t figure out, however, how the leathery, clawed pterodactyl makes it into the top three, and I am immediately sorry I asked: apparently the combination of the jagged little wing-claws and the long, pointy beak…


Usually, I am fascinated by fetishes…what image or occurrence along the journey of one’s sexual awakening led someone to associate feet so much with sexual arousal that they become erect sucking on toes, or be unable to get off unless he’s wearing a bridle and horsetail butt-plug. (I generally sort of assume that some perfect confluence of events occurred that tangled up the association of my-first-erection with my-little-pony, and write the whole proclivity off to harmless kink-dom.) But this shit is disturbing. Not only does it have a whole lot of dom-y, rape-y, violent bestiality, it’s also chock-full of pretty ordinarily French-vanilla fucking that I’d sadly bet the theory of evolution they’ve never done with a real boy: ass-licking… cunnilingus that actually leads to orgasm… hell, anything that actually leads to lady orgasms… a partner that seems to notice their pleasure… In fact, all of the dinosaurs – even the most rape-y ones – seem to be very enthusiastic about the pleasure of the cave-ladies. They mostly communicate like dogs (licking, nuzzling, tail wagging, etc.), but occasionally have psychic powers, making them about a thousand times superior to the readers’ actual husbands, who can’t even figure out that no woman ever is dead silent and corpse-still when you’re doing the sex-things correctly. They also have a whole lotta really weird overtones of childhood abuse (almost obsessively dwelling on the girls’ experiences of their fathers’ sexual modeling) mixed in with the very standard domination fantasies (“Tear my clothes off, pterodactyl!”) and obvious antipathy towards their current human husbands and their mandatory wifely-duty sex.

But, you know, it’s not like they’re doing gay stuff or having premarital sex or actual sex they enjoy with humans. I think you still get to keep your get-into-heaven card if you’re getting off on getting raped by reptiles, even if you did wear that skimpy loincloth in that neighborhood. After all, it’s not like you chose to be transported back to pre-Noah days and get tongue-lashed by the thunder lizards!

As fascinatingly sad as these are, I think I’m going to wait for the movies. The dialogue should be phenomenal, and I think there’s no better way to induce simultaneous night terrors and giggle fits, especially after I eat those cookies that will be legal in June here in Oregon. Note to self: avoid the natural history museum for the foreseeable future after viewing.