Ever since I first learned of the inimitable Chuck Tingle on this very website I have longed to explore his works. It was very difficult to choose an introduction in the the world of erotic supernatural bestiality, so I dithered. Should I start with Space Raptor Butt Invasion? My Billionaire Triceratops Craves Gay Ass? Pounded in the Butt by My Own Butt? But(t) finally the Month of Scares arrived and I knew what I had to read.
My Ass Is Haunted by the Gay Unicorn Colonel is the story of a young man named Roger who travels the country visiting supposedly haunted residences, in search of a link to the Other Side that can put him in contact with the spirit of his deceased unicorn lover, Paulo. He finally hits pay dirt at an old plantation house deep in Georgia called the Blue Bayou Bed and Breakfast where he meets Colonel Peach, the ghost of a Civil War Unicorn Colonel. Peach comes to him in the night to deliver a message from the great beyond: Paulo has not yet achieved peak ghostliness and cannot manifest as a corporeal being, but in his stead he wants Peach to make sweet, interspecies love to Roger. A night of physically improbable passion ensues.
I had high expectations for this book. First, that it would be a book. Or at least a short story. But it’s actually about ten pages long. But hey, brevity can be a good thing! Get out while the getting’s good! But this was just the first of many disappointments. The most obvious is that the title is completely misleading. Roger’s ass is haunted, but not by the Gay Unicorn Colonel. His ass is haunted by Paulo, a sexy Spanish unicorn who died of “hoof-heartedness,” a unicorn-specific affliction wherein the unicorn’s heart is too small to sustain him for a normal life-span.
The story also left many avenues unexplored. I, for one, would have appreciated a little buildup in Roger’s search for ghosts. We know he spent years visiting haunted dwellings; what was that like? I would feel more emotionally connected to our protagonist if I could feel the frustration of thwarted hopes. The joy of meeting Colonel Peach would be much more sweet coming after years of failure and disappointment.
I also would have really enjoyed learning more about the innkeeper, Melody. For an old southern lady running a business out of a plantation house she is surprisingly open-minded about homosexual human-unicorn relations. What’s her story? Was she born in Georgia? Does she have a family? Why does she rarely have visitors at her establishments when she’s such a bomb-ass hostess?
Melody sits down in her chair and I follow suit, smiling graciously as she dishes up some of the creamy soup into a bowl and hands it to me. Even if I don’t see any colonial ghosts on this trip, this is still one hell of a bed and breakfast.
And most importantly, has she ever met/had relations with the ghost of Colonel Peach? I suspect yes, since her reaction to hearing that Roger saw his ghost in the upstairs window when he arrived is this:
Melody freezes as she hears this, a smile slowly creeping across her wrinkled old face.
Yeah. She got the unicorn D.
Returning to Roger, some important historical context seems to be missing as well. When he tells Melody about Paulo, he mentions that “back in those days unicorn and human relationships were looked down upon, but we didn’t care.” This was allegedly only a few years ago, so there must have been some recent landmark social and legal changes regarding these sorts of relationships. I would happily read several chapters dedicated to a grieving Roger’s bittersweet involvement in the movement to end the unicorn/human stigma, to watch him march in the Gay Interspecies Pride Parade, to see him cry the day that human/unicorn marriage becomes legal. What must Roger have been through in his short life? He has seen the world change.
Furthermore, I felt that Roger acquiesced to the ghostly tryst a little too easily. He mentions that since Paulo died he has lain with neither man nor beast, and describes Paulo as the great love of his life. Though he spends three seconds expressing trepidation and mild confusion about his boner, about ten seconds after Colonel Peach propositions him this happens:
I smile and slowly drop down into a squat before the beast, so that his shaft is pointed directly at my chiseled face, and then look up at him with my soulful gay eyes.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” I ask playfully. “For Paulo?”
If I were the ghost of Paulo I would have serious reservations about Roger at this point.
One must approach the sex scene by forgetting that what is being described is essentially paranormal bestiality. Luckily Tingle makes this easy by anthropomorphizing Colonel Peach to the degree of physical impossibility (and failing to bring Peach’s horn into the equation in the manner I was
dreading expecting). I have sincere doubts that the following acts could be remotely pleasurable for either party:
- “I grab his hoof in my hand and then force it down the front of my boxer brief’s [sic], letting him feel the hard thickness of my massive rod.”
- “I take Colonel Peach’s hooves and pull them above his head, controlling him completely as I make my way down his ripped chest and abs with a series of sensual kisses.”
- “Colonel Peach’s hooves are on my hips, helping to pull me up and down across him in an incredible pulsing rhythm.”
- “There’s a loud crack as Colonel Peach slaps my ass with a hoof, hard, then he grabs me by my hips and pulls me back towards him with ease.”
Sadly the most believable aspect of this liaison is that a man who has not engaged in sexual relations in literally years experiences no discomfort when being penetrated by an “enormous unicorn cock” without any lubrication.
But of all of the issues in this work, one stands out above the rest. Consider the following passage:
The unicorn colonel sits atop his powerful steed in full uniform, looking up at me as I gaze down at him.
How the fuck does a unicorn ride a horse? What does this look like? Where do all the legs go? What??? This has tormented me since the moment I read it. I have thought and thought and can only conclude that it looked something like this:
At the end of the day, I suppose that (despite the false advertising in the title) My Ass is Haunted by the Gay Unicorn Colonel lives up to its promise. There is an ass that is haunted by a unicorn. There is a gay unicorn colonel. The gay unicorn colonel and the haunted ass spend some time together. Plus, nobody can match Tingle’s ability to use “gay” as a modifier. To end this review, I have collected each instance of this. Please vote for your favorite.