SuperEgo Slash -- Comica Erotica

For our second anniversary Michelle and I decided to try our hand at slash fiction as comedy. The first video is my intro and Michelle's story. The second video is my story.

Dale's Night by Michelle Dobrawsky

Girl Talk by Dale Sorenson

SuperEgo Slash -- Behind the Scenes

For three months leading up to our second anniversary show neither Michelle nor I had any idea what we were going to do. We kept having the same conversation.

"You got anything?"

"No. You got anything?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"Now?"

We talked about doing another roast, but I felt like after my huge-boobed performance last year as Michelle I really had no where to go. Then this happened....

The Making of SuperEgo Slash
I was reading The Absolutely True Ball Story by Evan Jacobs. It's a charming and romantic tale of a boy who gets stoned, accidentally ties his balls in a knot and goes to the emergency room for this first homosexual experience and an anal probe.

Since we both know Evan I sent the link to Michelle as a laugh. My interest in the story inspired her to write a single line parody in an email....

"I felt his knit tie, soft but scratchy, rubbing against my bare heaving chest...."

This had me on the floor laughing. So I dared Michelle to write a slash fiction story about me and quickly decided to write my own about her.

And so, only 30 hours before the show, we finally found our theme.

We decided to coordinate our performances in a deadpan Masterpiece Theater style. But we did not share drafts.

So the whole time I was writing about her, I wondered what she was writing about me. Specifically I was worried about whether I was going to be the top or the bottom in Michelle's story. I could just see myself ending up at the bottom of some bitch pile.

---

The Show
We opened the show with our readings and as you can see in the videos it went well. I really liked the quick/slow rhythms and rising/falling tones of Michelle performance.

In his biography, Steve Martin relates how some years ago he changed the fundamental structure of his comedy. Instead of using obvious punch lines to tell the audience when to laugh, he left it to the audience to decide for themselves when to laugh.

A little nervous about how this whole thing would play, I decided to follow Martin's example and not telegraph any attempts at jokes. As far as I was concerned this was fine literature. This allowed me to relax and give exactly the performance I'd wanted to give. Although it wasn't easy getting there.

I had a lot of trouble with my rehearsals right up until the very last one. I was unable to resist my usual urge to ham it up, which is a form of begging for laughs. But when I put on the suit, everything just clicked right into place. Interesting how the clothes allowed me to finally get to where I wanted and knew I needed to be.

After our stories we put up 18 comics. There were a variety of themes to the reactions.

Several girls said they felt slighted at having been left out of the "lesbian montage".

Straight men and lesbians alike agree that I don't know a damn thing about lesbian sex. This is true.

I'd wanted to include female ejaculation in the story but didn't for two reasons. First, I wanted to keep it classy. Second, I had absolutely no idea how to get there.

The erotic parts of Girl Talk read like a 14-year-old straight, virgin male's first attempt at a letter to Hustler. This was intentional. But I still don't know anything about girl parts.

In my defense, Girl Talk is not actually a lesbian story. Slash fiction was invented by straight women and it's almost always about straight male characters, Kirk/Spock, Han/Luke, Frodo/Sam. It's called slash fiction because of the slash in the pairings. The top is always first. So in an Aragorn/Legolas story, Aragorn fucks Legolas. (That little blond bitch wanted it.)

But I digress.

So Girl Talk is not a lesbian story. Knowing I hadn't the foggiest clue about how to get a vagina into a narrative I consciously wrote it as a straight girl on straight girl boob domination scene. This subtle distinction may not matter to the casual listener, but it's the basis for the narrative.

Several phrases captured people's imaginations. Michelle's "Take those off, you're way sexier without them," was a favorite, as were her inspired lines about stubble and pleats in pants.

I particularly liked Michelle's poetic, "Male confusion of belts and buttons and underwear."

My utterly laughable, "moist erotic love knobs" seemed to be a memorable phrase repeated a few times in the show. Like so many lines, I wrote it to be as cliché and ridiculous as possible. Which was the point of the whole thing. Porn out of the context of arousal is ludicrous.

But the phrase that really took on a life of it's own was, "Boob Slave". Several comics, including Michelle, straight boys and a real, live lesbian said they'd all like their own boob slaves.

A new service industry is born.

---

Epilogue
Having watched the videos a few times now what sticks with me most is how flattering Michelle's story is. Not because I ended up on top (I did) or because it casts me in a positive light (it does). Rather, the effort itself is quite a compliment.

What better way to star in your own porno without the awkwardness of having to take your clothes off for the camera?

"Girl Talk" by Dale Sorenson

“Sometimes I’m sorry I didn’t get the double Ds,” Stacy said.

She washed down her Zanex with a wine cooler and more whiskey.

“Oh don’t say that,” said Michelle. “Proportion is so much more important than sheer size.”

“Really?!” Stacy gushed. “God! That makes me feel just so much better. I’ve always been so jealous of your bodacious Ta Tas.”

Michelle nodded coolly as she sipped her vodka. “I’ve got this little tramp right where I want her,” she thought. "Time for a power play.”

“Here, let me show you,” said Michelle

In one rough, swift motion she ripped open Stacy’s blouse.

Stacy gave out a helpless little cry, but Michelle knew the little slut wanted it.

No bra? Hardly surprising. But no resistance? Intriguing.

Stacy’s round breasts curved up, each nipple pert and eager reaching skyward for attention.

Michelle caressed Stacy’s waist with one hand and bounced a playful tit with the other.

Continuing the facade of innocent girl talk Michelle asked, “See how the proportions go so well together?”

“Why yes. Yes I do,” said Stacy. She leaned forward and arched her back to offer better access to her taut supple features.

Michelle fingered Stacy’s moist erotic love knobs and they hardened. Soft moans filled the air.

“Now compare to mine,” said Michelle

“What?”

“Go on.”

Stacy fell into a trace, barely aware of her actions, yet conscious that each button opened brought her closer to those mountainous orbs of wonder. Slowly they came into view. She felt an almost divine presence. She’s dreamed of this moment for so long. She worshipped Michelle’s heaving, undulating melons with her eyes and felt pulsating envy and desire.

“They’re perfect,” Stacey said.

“Yes. I know. Feel them,” Michelle commanded.

Stacy did as she was told, like the good little girl she was raised to be. “My god!” she exclaimed. “They’re so pink. Your areolas are so dark and lovely. And just one of these weighs more than my last abortion.”

“You know it baby!” Michelle said with the confidence of a goddess.

Stacy’s willpower finally crumbled. She was sick of being the good girl. She wanted to be a dirty tramp. She plunged her face into Michelle’s heaving bazooms. She lapped, licked, slurped and squeezed like a mad jungle woman.”

“You’re good at that,” said Michelle with a faint sigh.

Stacy lifted her sloppy, wet glistening face and said, “Oh it’s the Botox. Keeps everything soft and relaxed.” Stacy went back to work, enjoying the role of boob slave.

Suddenly the door opened and a perky little face appeared. It was Emily.

“Is this the room for hip-hop Pilates?”

Stacy tried to look but Michelle’s hand kept her face firmly planted in Michelle’s magnificent womanhood.

Emily cocked an eyebrow at the muffled sounds of delight and submission coming from between Michelle’s ample cleavage. But she knew better than to say anything.

“It’s next door,” Michelle said.

“Ok thanks,” said Emily. “You girls have fun and try not to get anything on the carpets.”

She bounced off in her usual way with a little grin that said, “I’m a Jew with a secret.”

Michelle muttered to herself. “That little vixen knew we were in here. That’s it. She’s next. I’ll bet her asshole tastes like strawberries.”

Dear Bill, More Space Marine Man Ass in Video Games, Please. THX! Love, Dale

Microsoft has sheepishly admitted that due to an "obscure content error" (or perhaps a "wardrobe malfunction"?) the release of their latest space-marines themed video game, "Halo 2" for Vista, has accidental nudity in it.

I love it.

They didn't say what the nudity was, but the only girl in the entire game is Cortana, a 12" tall, blue hologram. Other than her, it's nothing by hyper-butch, space marines. And if there's one thing I believe in, on my personal quest to become the gayest nerd on the planet (or the nerdiest fag, either one), it's that video games need more space marine man ass.

Alas, Microsoft is delaying the release of the game so they can remove whatever it is.

I went looking to see if anyone has posted copies of Microsoft's little error and couldn't find any. However, I did find a few things I just gotta share.

These links are not safe for work nor for Mormons.

Cortana Doesn't Need A Man, She's Got It Covered
The Halo Sargent Gets What He Deserves
What Halo Aliens Do During Their Coffee Break
Who's A Bad, Bad Puppy?

Now that I'm blogging again, these images provide a sort of Rorschach Test for you, my dear reader.

If you find these images:

A. Hilarious ... you're my kind of nerd.
B. Hilarious and kinda hot ... you're my kind of kinky nerd, you should definitely send me email.
C. Offensive ... you should unsubscribe from my blog immediately.