Read The ‘Twilight’ Fan Fiction ‘Fifty Shades Of Grey’ Author E.L. James Wrote As Snowqueens Icedragon

The Fifty Shades of Grey book trilogy has sold over 70 million copies worldwide, and a movie based on the first novel, starring Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan, is on track for a $45 million opening weekend. Not bad for an author who got her start writing erotic Twilight fan fiction, which coincidentally, is quite bad! In 2009, E.L. James typed what basically amounted to erotica as “Snowqueens Icedragon,” who, surprisingly, is not the name of a character in a Game of Thrones ripoff. Her stories were posted on before moving to her own website, at which point the original title, Master of the Universe, was changed to Fifty Shades of Grey.

So, to recap, a fan fiction author, who had never published anything before Master of the Universe, was inspired by a Mormon, and made millions of dollars. That’s the American dream, folks. Anyway, the similarities between MotU and Shades are numerous and familiar.

In most instances, the personality traits, appearances, and familial relationships inherited from Twilight stayed intact in MotU (and hence, in Fifty Shades). Some characters’ minor details were altered for FSoG so that they wouldn’t be completely identical to their corresponding Twilight character. (Via)

Main characters Bella Swan and Edward Cullen were changed to Anastasia Rose Steele and Christian Grey, Esme Cullen became Dr. Grace Trevelyan Grey, etc. James has tried to delete copies of Master of the Universe from the Internet — can’t make money from something that isn’t slapped with a “soon to be a hit movie” sticker; plus, “Ff.n had Snowqueens remove MotU because of the NC-17 content” — but luckily, a PDF exists. And it’s wonderful.

It’s also 846 pages long (!), which is more Bella than any one person who isn’t a divorced middle-aged woman buying wine by the box needs. So I randomly scrolled through the document, stopping only when my BDSM sense was tingling. But first, the cover.

A promising start. Let’s fast-forward to page 93.

A tremor runs through my whole body… I am naked, in a bath with Edward Cullen Esquire… he’s naked… if someone had told me I‘d be doing this when I woke up in his hotel suite yesterday… I would not have believed them. Holy crap… was that just yesterday?

Did E.L. James…intern…for TMZ…before she wrote…this? I’m already exhausted, and we’re only one paragraph in. Here’s a fun idea: I’m going to type random, naughty words into the search and see what shows up. We begin with “orgasm.”

Holy crap… his hands are really gripping my hair… I can do this. I push even harder and in a moment of extraordinary confidence I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge he cries out and stills and I can feel warm, salty, liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly… ugh… I‘m not sure about this… but one look at him… and he‘s come apart in the bath…. because of me… and I don‘t care. I sit back and watch him, a triumphant smile tugging at my the corners of my lips. Well I don’t want to gloat.

His breathing is ragged… he opens his eyes and he glares at me.

“Don‘t you have a gag reflex…?” he asks astonished. “Christ, Bella … that was… good, really good, unexpected though.” He frowns. “You know, you never cease to amaze me.”

Please remember “don‘t you have a gag reflex…?” was said by this guy.

Isabella gazes at me, with what…? Trepidation? She‘s probably never seen an erect penis before. F*ck…

That is the only time the word “penis” shows up in the entire book. Unlike “cock”…

…except it’s always in reference to Edward’s head, and James uses it CONSTANTLY.

His hands are now on my waist, holding me… but I can‘t concentrate on them, what‘s inside me, and the clamps too… I can feel my body starting to climb, and his hands kneading, moving round, moving down… behind me… around my backside. And suddenly he gently pushes his anointed finger inside me… THERE! Into my backside. And it feels odd, alien, full… but oh… so… good. And he moves it slowly, easing in and out, while his teeth graze my upturned chin…

“Backside” is the classy “butt.” “Butt” is the classy “poop depositor.”

I feel his hands run down my body… over my breasts as he reaches the dip at the base of my neck. He runs the tip of his nose around it. And he begins a very leisurely cruise with his mouth, heading south, down my body following his hands, to my breasts, each one… kissed, nipped… nipples gently sucked… Holy crap…

It’s like I’ve always said, not enough Twilight fan fiction includes the words “holy crap.”

“Just here,” he murmurs and he rhythmically strokes the front wall of my vagina… whilst he continues the exquisite, relentless licking and sucking. Holy f*cking cow… I erupt unexpectedly into a mind-blowing orgasm that stuns all my senses, obliterating all that‘s happening outside of my body, as I writhe and groan… Oh my… that was so quick… I am vaguely aware that he has stopped his ministrations and he‘s hovering over me… sliding on a condom and then he‘s inside me… hard and fast.

And “holy f*cking cow.” Fun fact: this paragraph was proceeded by one explaining that vampire Edward put ice cream in the vagina of fang-banger Bella. Can’t believe True Blood never did that.

“Don‘t you like the butt drawer?” he asks innocently, amused.

I want to become a successful CEO, and while I’d allow HR to conduct the interviews for potential new employees, I’d sneak in at the end and ask the candidate, “Don’t you like the butt drawer?” Bella’s reply: “It‘s not top of my Christmas card list.” I was looking for “Hanukkah e-mail blast,” but I guess that’ll do.

I ache everywhere, my lungs are bursting, my head throbbing, and the yawning dull ache of loss eats away at my inside. F*ck it – I cannot run from this pain, though I am going to try. I stop to change the music. I want something… violent. Pump It, by the Black Eyed Peas, yeah… I pick up the pace.

I was on board (not really) with the sexual torture, the cocked heads, the nagging feeling that I’m wasting precious seconds of my life reading BDSM Twilight fan-fic. But a Black Eyed Peas reference? Every man and woman has a line they’re not willing to cross, and that’s mine.

I’m spent.