Prologue

Deep in the crypts of Winterfell, the sound of fucking echoed off the walls, drowning out the soft crackle of lit torches.

It was the sound of hungry slurping; of meaty thighs slapping lustily against ample buttcheeks. Jon Snow closed his eyes and stroked his 70s pornstache. His manhood could scarce contain itself at the sight of Daenerys naked atop her Dragon. Winter is coming, he thought, as the queen took her swollen member between her slim, delicate fingers.

What had Ygritte’s fingers been like? Were they as soft as a freshly-flowered maiden’s? Or were they calloused hands of an archer? He tried to remember, but the memory somehow escaped him. Before long, he found himself spilling his seed on Dragon Queen’s silvery-pale locks.

Chapter 1 

Game Of Bones (GoB) is a pornographic parody of HBO’s award-winning television epic Game Of Thrones.

It is created by Wood Rocket, a Las Vegas-based adult entertainment company which specializes in smut of a satirical nature. Indeed, Wood Rocket has little else in its oeuvre. Previous titles include Legend Of Zildo: Cockarina Of Time, The Laygo Movie, Fap To The Future, Ten Inch Mutant Ninja Turtles, and SpongeKnob SquareNuts.

The list goes on but your humble correspondent cannot. The last item—SpongeKnob SquareNuts—was so funny and yet so deeply disturbing that I now require serious therapy.

Thankfully for my mental health, however, Game Of Bones is one of Wood Rocket’s more sensible creations.

The action begins not in Winterfell, but in that King’s Landing Brothel owned by the Littlefinger (Not-so-little Finger in this case).

There, we meet a nervous-looking Podrick Payne, who has been sent by Tyrion Lannister to -erm- do something. In classic porn tradition, the ‘something’ is promptly forgotten when he encounters an overly-eager prostitute. The reputation of Podrick’s magnificent penis precedes him, and this blonde sexpot can barely contain her excitement.

Mission? What mission? Clothes and intrigue fly out the window like Bran, and they commence boning with voluble enthusiasm.

For a while, this might seem like a standard porno, but what would GoT/GoB be without its twists? After twenty minutes of vigorous ‘plot’, Podrick pulls out for the money shot—‘Winter is coming, he declares—only to find himself incapable at the critical juncture.

Despite much coaxing and tugging from both parties, the prostitute’s face and hair remain lustrously un-despoiled.

So this is what they call Winterfell, Podrick sighs, giving his flaccid member a wistful shake.

Ba-dum-tish.

Cut to title screen.

From there on, GoB only gets sillier and sillier. Not that I’m complaining.

In a tent, Robb Stark gets down with Talisa, who brings me to tears by chanting ‘KING IN DA NORF KING IN DA NORF’ in-between mouthfuls of Kingly cock.

Meanwhile, Jon Snow and Ygritte’s lovemaking is interrupted by a ‘White Wanker’ pleasuring herself with a ghostly-pale dildo.

Across the narrow sea, Dany, the MILF of Dragons, wins new followers to the Targaryen cause—not with fire and blood, but by letting potential recruits ejaculate on her arse.

This absurdity reaches its climax in Winterfell. After being found guilty of murder, Littlefinger’s final request is to see a heavily-tattooed Sansa Stark pleasure herself with his Valyrian dildo. “Since this is a porno”, she obligingly spreads her legs, only to tear off her face at the last moment to reveal it was Arya all along.

Chapter 2

If I could choose one word to describe Game Of Bones, it would be ‘uneven’. Some of the lines are genuinely funny, while others are so off the mark they might as well have landed in Dorne.  

Robb Stark and Talisa (Episode 2) stand out from the rest because GoB’s caricature of Robb as a battle-obsessed mommy’s boy rings true. He is utterly naive in all things not related to swinging a sword.

Talisa also delivers the best pun in the entire series: “It’s time the king in the north gets what he deserves *dramatic pause* down south.”

Bravo, House Stark, bravo.

However, for every bit of innuendo that hits the spot, there are two misses. The jokes about ‘Making wildings pay for the wall’ is totally out-of-place, and much of the satire is just not sharp enough.

In lieu of actual puns or conceits, there is an awful lot of fourth-wall breaking by Sansa and Daenerys. ‘Since this is a porno’ becomes a tired refrain by the end, after getting nailed onto a variety of humorous observations which never actually turn into jokes.

I.e. Since this is a porno, I have to be a step-nephew! Or a plumber! (Jon Snow)

This unevenness applies to the acting as well. I’m not expecting Meryl Streep in her prime, but some of the sex scenes are criminally dull. Sound is the usual broken-radio moaning, punctuated by the Lorem Ipsum of pornographic dirty talk (‘I thought you like that’ / ‘Omg’ / ‘Give it to me’).

Positions change often, and we go from doggy-style to 69 to woman on top, but I find it hard to appreciate the acrobatics. Their dutiful, hydraulic pumping does not spark joy.

After 40 minutes, it felt about as erotic as watching the Olympic men’s 1200m relay.

The lone standout performance is Cersei Lannister, whose face is contorted into a rictus of pure ecstasy while Margaery pleasures her on The Iron Throne. Unlike the rest, her moans are varied in volume and pitch, going from piercing screams to guttural yelps to everything in-between.

She is also the only cast member who can pull off a convincing English accent whilst on the brink of faked orgasm. For the rest, it’s American dialects all around. You can put Jon Snow in a leather jerkin, but you can’t scrub the hilarious midwestern accent from his tongue.

But all of this is window-dressing. The real question is: Is GoB fap-worthy?

There is only one way to find out.

But for me, at least, the answer is no. As a diehard GoT fan, I have come to love many of its characters, who seem more ‘real’ to me than my colleagues or acquaintances. This intimacy is an illusion, but having grown up with the books and show, I can’t help thinking of Arya as a little sister, or Jon Snow as that good-looking muttonhead friend from Uni.

Watching them bone is therefore deeply unsettling. And even though I am only watching their facsimiles on GoB, there is still enough resemblance in their costumes and emotional connection on my part to make masturbation impossible.

After 10 minutes of baleful tugging, I gave up, closed my laptop, and went to bed.

Not today, it seems.

Epilogue

As a show, Game Of Bones is a deeply flawed work. As satire, the jokes are not biting enough to be genuinely funny. As porn, it faces the unique challenge of being less gratuitous than its source material. The rapes, the sexually-charged murders, and the barely-legal relationships of GoT are entirely absent from its pornographic cousin.

Whether you’re relieved or disappointed to hear this, it’s up to you. No judgment.

However, Game Of Bones does have one redeeming quality for literary wankers like myself: It has helped me to gain a newfound appreciation for George R.R. Martin’s craftsmanship.

Some of the dialogue from Game Of Bones (“The king in the north should get what he deserves down south” is really not so different from what HBO has written (“You want a good girl, but you need the bad pussy”). Even the gags have a point. If Arya can disguise herself as Walder Frey, couldn’t she technically turn into Cersei and castrate Euron mid-coitus?

Hence, the parody reveals an uncomfortable truth.

At heart, Game Of Thrones, with its dragons and ice-zombies and face-changing, is a deeply ludicrous show. If you stop to think about it, the army of fearless ball-less warriors is not just weird, but downright fucking hilarious.  

As is the idea of a teenage Dragon Queen saving the world, or a tomboy training to be an unstoppable Ninja-Assassin.

What holds the entire premise together is GRRM’s skill for character development and historical verisimilitude. Without his skill, this airy blend of Faulkner and Fantasy crumbles like a Souffle under Dragon-fire. His talent is to take these fantasy tropes and give them new life by means of a deep interiority and psychological depth.

This is HBO’s main problem, now that they’ve passed the books. Without GRRM’s seriousness, there is nothing to prop up the fantastical edifice of dragons, shadow babies, and Euron. Without his writing as ‘training wheels’, the show is now threatening to turn into a porn parody of itself.

Euron, the big-dick swaggering pirate, behaves like a stereotypical big-dick swaggering pirate, while Bran/Three-eyed Raven is creepy for creepiness’ sake. What were once living ‘characters’ have been reduced into fantasy cliches.

Game Of Bones is thus a worthy parody. Even though I failed to cum, I emerged from the experience with a greater respect for what makes GoT great. It’s not the CGI dragons or set-piece battles, but the precarious balancing act between high fantasy and high realism—a feat of tight-rope storytelling, the likes of which we will never see again.

And that, I think, is worth a million cumshots.

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