#30 - "Ravished by the Triceratops," by Christie Sims

A Wonderful Cumming of (the Cretaceous) Age Story

(∞/10)

By Admiral Fartmore

(book chosen by Beau Dashington)

Editor's Note: When I was a kid, the Triceratops was my favourite dinosaur. Now I just feel sad inside.

I own two dogs, and picking up their shit each day is part of that experience. It’s routine, boring, and probably my least favourite part of dog ownership. But like any repetitive, thankless task, as time goes on you start to appreciate the little things; I’m relieved when my dog’s produce is firm, when it’s on the grass instead of the sidewalk, when it’s done with no one else around, and so on. There are bad times, too, but those help make the average shits more tolerable. And there’s even times when you come across a welcome log: one you quietly appreciate - like when it’s the dead of winter and the fresh poop gently warms your hands as you collect it.

  

Ravished by the Triceratops is one of those logs. We’ve covered Christie Sims’ unique brand of smut (the elegantly-named dino-erotica) before, when we invited a guest review of Mating with the Raptor by our very own Hotbot. I’d highly recommend reading her review, as it’s better than this will be, but to sum things up: she wasn’t too pleased about the whole experience, and we discovered yet another way to ruin sex for a woman. But I, in turn, loved Ravished by the Triceratops, because it was just so crazy.

I’ll start by recapping the story: our prehistoric protagonist, Bel, attempts to hunt a triceratops but ends up fucking it instead. Sims is thankfully brief on setting, character background, or whatever else kind of stuff you put in books, because she respects her reader and knows we all just want to get to the dino-banging. The complete lack of descriptive elements was a bit of a problem for me, though, because it forces you to fill in the blanks with your own images of dinosaurs and humans, and my only real experiences with this concept are The Flintstones and Sarah Palin’s church.

But since jerking off to Sarah Palin is soooo 2008, I was stuck with the Flintstones.

Speaking of which, I wasn’t actually allowed to watch The Flintstones cartoon as a child because of all the blatant misogyny. But I did see the 1994 live action film. The one with Rosie O’Donnell cast as Betty. God damnit.

I'll refrain from photoshopping this one.

To get back to book at hand, Rosie O’Donnell  Bel is sent out to hunt an animal as part of a coming-of-age ceremony (ha-ha-ha). She has chosen to hunt a "tri-horn," the deadliest of her available options. Her plan is to lure the beast into charging at her and then dodge at the last second, leaving it with its hard horns stuck in the mud (fantastic foreshadowing). But things go awry, and she finds herself lying on the ground, at the mercy of her would-be prey. In this moment of peril, her “life flashed before [her] eyes,” which strangely only consists of one memory: her dad getting an awkward boner once while he gave her a hug. Then she’s knocked unconscious.

She wakes up in the Tri-horn’s nest, and yeah, you can guess how things escalate from there. To his credit, the triceratops is both a talented and unselfish lover. He begins with a slow, cretaceous-length session of cunninglingus, during which the skill of his tongue matched only by our author’s own lush prose: “I came, writhing on his tongue as he growled into my asshole.” Here, I thought I’d found the greatest sentence I’d ever read, only for it to be outshone just half a page later: “I turned and saw his vast cock and his balls, both of which hung like the pendulous breasts of a pregnant woman.”

Awesome.

Re-read that.

AWESOME.

For what it’s worth, Ravished also has a strong message about self-acceptance, personal agency and womanhood. As she is banging the dinosaur, our heroine reflects that her joy is “not just in the physical feeling of having it inside me, but the elation of being able to take it.” Further, it is only after realizing that her "body was an amazing thing” that she achieves orgasm. After the sex is done, the beast leaves (presumably to make a sandwich) and at that point Bel is able to escape. In the final pages, she returns to her tribe and announces that she has discovered a new way to keep the triceratops from attacking them. This is the kind of monster-banging, strong female lead you don’t find anywhere in Flintstones, and I guess I understand now why I wasn’t allowed to watch it.

If only Wilma had left her abusive husband and run off with Dino.

           

Ravished by the Triceratops is awful – absolutely – but its existence is maintained by something beautiful: a kind of cooperative pact between parody and absurdity. These books are as widely bought as a joke as they are by people that really get turned on by it, and that means that Christie Sims sells books – dozens of them. Some people get off on it, some laugh, and some folks like myself are truly moved. Call me crazy, but this is just one of the Pieces of Shit that warms my heart.

- Admiral Fartmore