Mad Atoms

It was like a perfect nightmare scenario. I came into my bedroom to find her standing there, the evidence strewn about her, undeniable proof of my dirty secret. I’d kept them hidden for so long, the things I shamefully stashed away and pleasured myself to when no one was around… but now here I was, busted red handed with it. 

I tried to reason with her, suggesting we all have strange little turn-ons that are too weird to tell anyone about in the harsh light of day. But the sheer size and volume of my stash tipped the scales. So she just stood there, looking hurt and confused, two storage containers vomiting all their profane material all over the floor: the complete Lord of the Rings DVD trilogy, a stack of Wolverine comics a foot high, a detailed bust of Iron Man with light-up eyes. And staring up at her from the carpet, a pristine statuette of Han Solo, mid-blaster shot (and looking pretty magnificent, if I do say). 

I love that statuette. Oh, the pleasure it has brought me over the years. But how could she understand, this woman with the Catholic upbringing and stodgy taste in fiction? She who had found the new Star Trek, “unrealistic,” and “pandering.” Unrealistic? She would never understand… but that didn’t make the look on her face any less humiliating – a mix of disgust and pity, mingled with disappointment. 

And that wasn’t all. With fresh horror it dawned on me that I didn’t remember to clear my browser cache, and once she had found the Batman novelties and Battlestar souvenirs, she went straight for the hard drive. And, of course, all my fetish sites were listed there: TheOneRing.net, Dark Horizons, the Stargate fan page…

I tried to turn it around. I put on my seductive smile, cooed a little bit. ‘Come on baby,’ I said. ‘Just give it a try – a lot of couples are into it. Let’s just give it a shot, we’ll go slow, and if you don’t like it, we’ll stop. I’ll play the first 15 minutes of ‘Aliens vs. Predator,’ and if you aren’t comfortable, we’ll just do it regular, and watch Letterman.’  

She called me, “a little twisted with all of this,” and mumbled something about her mother being right, but I wasn’t willing to give up, and within three days I was warming her back up. I started out easy, with ‘The Princess Bride,’ and left an extra copy of a magazine with Viggo Mortensen on the cover lying around the place. Lastly, I resorted to that gateway drug for all female fantasy haters – a rented copy of ‘Twilight.’ The hook was set. I bought her the book, and not two weeks later I was able to talk openly about the Hulk (both comics and movie) without reprimand, followed closely by an animated conversation about the upcoming Hobbit films.

When she actually said the words ‘Peter Jackson,’ my penis stood up a little, and the goal, I suddenly knew, was to complete the ultimate conquest: to get her into a replica of the Princess Leia bikini from ‘Jedi,’ and screw the bejesus out of her. 

The course wouldn’t be easy. First I’d actually have to get her to watch the film, and then introduce the notion of role-play into our sex routine. Simple was best, I knew, and I offered to do my Christopher Walken impression while feeling her up just to get things off the ground. I asked her to do Marilyn’s ‘Happy Birthday’ seduction from the Kennedy years, and I think it was my spot-on JFK accent that sealed the deal. Last would be the costume… 

Ebay is a wonderful thing. You can get a stuffed, mounted moose head from Alaska, and you can get finely-crafted faux-metal bras and panties from a fanboy in Scandinavia. And, more to the point, with the exposure of your nerd-porn, a few months work and a little persistence, you can get your girlfriend to pretend to be your love slave on a replica Tattooine slave barge and fuck her ‘til the Jawas come home.