Love Beyond Circuits, Love Beyond Flesh

Making fun of fan fiction is tricky. On the one hand, it absolutely deserves to be mocked. On the other hand, you’re absolutely an asshole for mocking it. For starters, a professional writer making fun of an amateur writer is generally considered punching down, and people frown on that, despite it clearly being the best direction to punch from. You get extra momentum from gravity! 

There’s also a level of protective irony inherent to the genre: Half of fan fiction is written to make fun of fan fiction, and the other half just uses that as an excuse if you happen to make fun of theirs. It’s called ‘troll fic’ — purposely writing bad fanfiction to get the internet to make fun of you for, I assume, sexual reasons. I am aware of these pitfalls, and I have figured out an ethical way to get around them: I don’t give a shit.

We’re going to talk about Love Beyond Circuits, Love Beyond Flesh

Egatro and Potimus sound like bit parts in Hamlet, and I’ll never call the good guys from Transformers anything but the Autoboys from now on. This is so bad that I immediately worry it’s on purpose, but here’s the thing — even if this is supposed to be terrible, we still need to talk about it. We need to talk about the important work it’s doing in Transformers lore. Specifically in detailing the sexual anatomy of a robot that turns into a truck. 

But before you fully explore an asshole, you must first care about that asshole. That’s what separates erotica from proctology, and why my proctology erotica can never seem to find a good audience. 

The setup for Love Beyond Circuits, Love Beyond Flesh is thus: 

That is some lean storytelling. We are a total of perhaps 200 words into this story, and we’ve already successfully merged the Transformers and Star Wars universes. Some fan fictions burn hundreds of thousands of words just trying to get their two properties to play nicely, and this motherfucker pulled it off in the span of like six fortune cookies. 

I mean, yes, all they did was say “fuck you, they’re the same universe, fuck you again” — but the simplicity of genius looks a lot like idiocy from a distance. Sometimes it looks like that up close, too. Like when Jabba announces that his pleasure barge is actually a fuck-barge, which never needed any clarification. When Steve Bannon drags a cringing young woman onto his mega-yacht, he never needs to specify “this is the boat where I give you diseases in terrible places.” It’s assumed.

Optimus Prime apologizes profusely for the horrible atrocities his robot cock is about to commit, which is the gentlemanly thing to do when one finds oneself to be an outsized robot on a fuck-barge, but there’s no need. Leia just soldiers the fuck up:

Here. This is what I’m talking about: The Transformers dick-building is both casual and astonishing. Of course Prime would have a crotch gate! The author is not just making that up out of thin air, there’s a precedent: On the original Optimus Prime toy, he kept his entire head in a flippable platform inside the cab. It was a silly but elegant solution — of course it would work the same way for both heads. This is how you do worldbuilding: The author actually takes the existing functionality of the toy design into account before extrapolating the location and functionality of his cyberdong. And let us not ignore the metaphor here: Optimus Prime’s dick is both lead and gold — the least and most valuable metals. Thus symbolizing the way Optimus Prime both treasures and is ashamed of his sex. This is literature!

And of course, graphite for lube. If you ever have to fuck or get fucked by a robot — and the way 2020 is going, you absolutely will be doing both before Christmas — you’ll remember this story’s advice and you will thank it with every fiber of your laser-targeted orifices.

I say again: Yes. The worldbuilding! The anal cavity of a sexually conservative robot like Optimus Prime would absolutely be neglected, even rusting. But he’s still a caring friend who knows people love to crawl up his asshole, so it’s also full of special lighting and even a little visitor’s center. Maybe a gift shop, to remember your special time inside his cavernous metal anus. 

Holy shit! True to his name, Optimus opted for every Prime add-on when kitting out his butthole. He’s got the Luxury Package, the Entertainment Package — motherfucker even sprung for the Comfort Package. Writing is about the words you don’t write. You don’t need to specify it: I know this robot’s ass comes with zoned climate control and a moonroof. 

Great art changes your view of the subject forever. Look at Optimus Prime again without picturing the special thrust elevator installed inside his butt. Hear his soothing, fatherly voice without recalling the special neon rainbow lightshow he gives visitors who tickle his “soft pinky pillows of pure petunia’s cotton.”

I defy you: Watch R2D2’s antics throughout the Star Wars films and don’t think “there he goes — the freak of the robot school.” 

Look, George Lucas, if you didn’t want R2D2 — the lovable inhuman jester of Star Wars — to one day be used for anal play by a bigger robot, then why did you shape him like that? This was inevitable. R2D2 has always been Chekhov’s Buttplug.

Sadly, after this section, Love Beyond Circuits falls apart. Things get stupid fast. Jabba grafts Jar Jar Binks’ penis to the tip of Optimus Prime’s shaft, then:

Optimus just makes a space long-distance call to the brother of the woman he’s currently fucking with somebody else’s dick, and that’s it. See, Jabba was too busy micro-managing the Dick Transplant Lab to install basic communication jammers, and the only reason Optimus Prime didn’t call for help before now was because he didn’t know a good number for it. Well, that and he’s getting double-teamed by what are, to him, basically just super horny lil’ elves. 

Fuckin’ Jar Jar lets us all down one last time:

In the end, Leia reveals that the entire Star Wars love triangle – already complicated by one of the participants turning out to be her secret brother roughly 40 years before our culture decided we were actually pretty into that — was bullshit and she was just playing both men, because once you fuck truck, you’re straight out of luck.

But listen, none of that is important. Remember: I didn’t bring you here to mock the character development, or the plot, or even the grammar — I came here to do one thing and one thing only: Introduce you to the complicated worldbuilding of Optimus Prime’s fully-loaded butthole and, in the process, forever ruin both Transformers and Star Wars for you.

Oh man, not for one hot second did I think you were actually George Lucas trying to set the record straight anonymously. But it’s so weird that you felt you had to specify you weren’t that I completely do think that now. 

Thanks for the expanded (butthole) universe, George!