Erotic Fan Fiction from Kristen Schaal

Sexy rewrites of Alf, Golden Girls, and Knight Rider by the comedian and Daily Show Correspondent.

By Kristen Schaal and Rich Blomquist

Slash Fiction
Despite countless reruns of The Wizard of Oz, television is no friend of Dorothy. Gay characters are few and far between, and they’re definitely not getting any action on the screen. This is the driving force behind slash fiction, a genre that reimagines well-known TV characters as homosexuals with raging libidos. Today, anyone with a computer and the willingness to read television instead of watch it can experience their favorite characters living in an alternate universe devoid of silly hang-ups about things like sexual orientation and plot.

“WET WILLIE”
Series: ALF
Pairing: Willie/ALF
Submitted by: HungAngel12

[. . .] ALF spotted Willie approaching the garage and his green heart skipped a beat. Willie had been his friend and protector ever since his spaceship had crashed in the Tanners’ backyard. Sure, Willie lost his temper every once in a while, but for the most part, you couldn’t ask for a better companion. Except maybe a delicious tabby cat with a side of Melmacian mayo.

The screen door squeaked open. Willie looked even more frazzled than usual.

“Hey, Willie!”

“What is it, ALF?” Willie braced himself for bad news. Coming from ALF, it always was.

“I found some old leather chaps in a box under the workbench. Are they valuable?”

“Yes, they have a great deal of sentimental value. Why?”

“Because I ate them.”

“ALF!”

“How was I supposed to know?” ALF replied, instantly on the defensive. “Besides, if you didn’t want anyone touching them, you should have put your name on them.”

“They did have my name on them. They were hand-embroidered.”

“So you’re ‘Big Bottom Bill,’” ALF surmised.

“That was a long time ago, ALF.” Willie spotted the last remnants of his carefree, leather daddy days scattered about the workbench. “Oh, they’re ruined!”

“I think they were ruined when you bought them,” ALF said, recalling the chaps’ shoddy workmanship.

“Why do I even bother?” Willie lamented, slumping down on the ratty couch. ALF could see he’d really done it this time.

“I’m sorry, Willie.”

“Oh, you’re always sorry.”

“Not always,” ALF deadpanned. “Come on, Willie. Let me make it up to you.”

“How could you possibly make it up to me?”

ALF could think of a few ways, but he wasn’t sure Willie would like any of them, especially since most involved slow-roasting Lucky with shallots and a succulent port wine sauce. He had to stop thinking with his eight stomachs and do something Willie would truly appreciate. Suddenly, it dawned on him. “Hey, Willie!”

“What is it now, ALF?”

“Have you ever had a Melmacian Tickler?”

“No, ALF. I’ve never had a Melmacian Tickler. How in the world would I have had a Melmacian Tickler?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’d been to the rest stop just outside Neptune?”

Willie had had just about enough of ALF’s foolishness. His face was flushed and his eyes burned with annoyed passion. “Willie, please,” ALF pleaded, placing a fuzzy hand on Willie’s knee. “Trust me.”

“Oh, all right, ALF,” Willie sighed. “I supposed there’s nothing left for you to ruin.”

ALF untucked Willie’s shirt from his belt, revealing a taut set of abs. All that pent-up anxiety had given Mr. Tanner great muscle tone. Willie felt ALF’s strong, three-fingered hands unfastening his belt.

“ALF, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

For once, ALF didn’t have a wisecrack at the ready. He was totally focused on the task at hand. ALF yanked down Willie’s boxer shorts, revealing his benefactor’s rigid human cock. It made his mouth water more than reading “Garfield.” ALF greeted his benefactor’s penis with uncharacteristic savoir faire.

“Hey, Willie.”