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Home / Fan Fiction / Fight Club / Consumer Masterbation

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of the original copyright holders, whoever the @#$% the copyright holders of Fight Club actually are. I make no claims on said copyrights. This is all in fun, try not to panic.

Fight Club: Consumer Masterbation
by: The Brat Queen

Rating: R for language and sexual concepts
Warnings: None I can think of. If you know the story, you should be fine with this.
Notes: I'm picking the best bits of cannon out of the movie, an old script and the book so my back story line might be a little tweaked from the one you're most familiar with. I don't anticipate this will make the story too hard to follow, but I'll mention it just FWIW. Also for the purpose of the story The Narrator will be known as Jack.

I woke up. Taking stock of it all I found the kid sitting in the dark and reading (most likely "I am Joe's High Blood Pressure").

Oh no. This is not gonna do.

I put in an appearance.

"Come on," I said, standing fully in front of him. He stared back at me in that vaguely cow-like way he stares at everything.

Although when he looks at me there's a bit of a light on inside. At the very least you've got to give the kid that.

"Where are we going?" he asked, putting the magazine down and standing up.

I gave him a quick grin. "Shopping."

With that I turned from him and headed for the door. I grabbed a pair of my sunglasses -- the purple ones that he hates but wishes he looked half as good in -- and went outside. A nice overcast sky hung over everything and I could feel the renewed smell of the paper mill clinging to our skin.

Looked like it was going to be a good day.

"Come on," I said again and picked up the pace. He followed (like he had much of a choice) and kept pace beside me as we slogged through the muddy streets. He kept quiet for most of it and, finally, feeling almost sorry for him, I gave him a look and let him toss me a line.

"What for, Tyler?" he asked. He was more awake now. I could see him taking in his surroundings, wondering what we would do and what I had in mind. He was ready for it, or so he thought. He liked to think he was ready for everything I did.

"Supplies," I said. I rummaged around and found a still-good cigarette on me that hadn't gotten lost in the shuffle. I struck a match off a parked car and took in a deep breath of smoke. Jack coughed a little. I shifted the cigarette in my mouth and changed my breathing slightly. Wouldn't do any good to make the kid so sick he couldn't hang around anymore.

"What kind of supplies?"

"Work supplies. You'll see."

I kept us at a good speed until we reached the city. Jack perked up immediately once we got there. He'd never been in this part of town before. Good. It would make his homework assignment that much easier.

"Have you found the Lord, child?" an old, fat woman asked me as we passed by. She shoved a pamphlet into my hand.

"Fuck yes, sister," I said, smiling at her from around my cigarette. "He's in my bed every night." I gave her a wink, shoved the pamphlet into my pocket for potential later use and steered Jack down the street, turning my attention on keeping his attention straight ahead.

Wouldn't do to spoil the surprise and have him discover just what part of town we were in. Not yet anyway.

It wasn't long before we reached our final stopping point. I mounted the front steps easily and tossed open the front door with a bang. The bell that hung above it clanked flatly then got caught between the door and the jam. Jack, ever himself, turned to fix it. I let him, because I wanted him to feel at home here.

"Tyler, how's it going man?" The shopkeeper, a middle-aged Puerto Rican by the name of Jose, gave me the high sign from behind the counter.

"Fine as always," I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets and easing my way into the store. "What's new?"

"Over there," he said, gesturing with a hand that was covered in more tacky jewelry than I could cope with while sober. "It's all in boxes. Haven't even unpacked yet, but it's all yours if you want."

"Thanks man," I said, giving him a nod of gratitude then heading over in the direction he'd indicated.

"Do we know him?" Jack asked softly, from his spot behind me. "He in Club?"

"No," I said, keeping my voice low as well. "Just a friend of mine."

The kid put two and two together. "From work?"


Jack nodded, attempting to be cool. He did that when he tried to think that he knew what I was doing.

I squatted down in front of the first box and began looking through it. Lacking direction, Jack stood beside me and looked around the store. Needing to actually get some work done, I let him take his time as I sorted through the new material.

Finally, when I had a handle on things, the shoe just began to drop. All in all I figure it took him maybe about fifteen minutes.

"Tyler," he asked, pitching his voice down to me on the floor, "are we in a porn shop?"

"Yep." I began to stack reels in front of me, sorting them by category.

Another shoe dropped. In his head, the kid had managed to put enough twos together to make four. Too bad for him that I can count higher than that.

"Ah, for the theater, right?" He came down to my level then, realizing that this was a project he had no problem helping with.

"Right," I said. I handed him a reel. "Hold this." I let him take one of the canisters from me as I put out my old cigarette and lit another one. I could see him reading the label on it, but knew the words weren't registering. Not quite yet. It was enough, though, and I took the reel back. "I need some new material," I said, letting him use that to fill in some of the gaps I knew his squirrel-like brain would be working over. "It's Thanksgiving, you know. Big movie season coming up."

The kid thought about it, trying to remember when he'd last read a newspaper and kept anything practical from it. He laughed, accidentally. "Toy Story?"

"Woody and Buzz, my friend," I said, standing up and moving some of the movies onto the countertop so I could keep track of the ones I wanted. "Tell me that doesn't have porn potential. Hell, the animators do it anyway, I'm just helping them along."

"What are we looking for?" he asked, standing up and leaning against the counter, really trying to make a study of this. "Good crotch shots? Tits? Maybe a nice ass or two?"

"Gay orgies," I told him, then immediately turned and got the attention of another patron by waving one of the canisters in front of him. "Hey, this any good?"

"What?" Jack asked, his voice rising a half-octave.

I ignored him and instead grabbed the cover box off of a nearby movie to flash in front of the other customer's eyes. "Seriously, I want to know if this has action half as good as the original." When the guy looked at me with blank panic I just smiled and said, "Well, you know sequels are never as good as the first, but I figured maybe this was a Godfather-type thing."

"I... haven't seen it," the guy said, backing off a bit. His eyes flickered over to Jose, who was busy reading a stroke mag himself and ignoring the whole thing.

"What do you recommend then?"


"I'm getting something for a friend of mine here and I'm wondering what you would recommend that would especially get his dick hard. Honestly."


I was impressed. Normally the kid can't speak up when I'm on a roll. "What?"

The kid's eyes were blazing. He was totally fucking furious. "What are you doing?"

"Just getting a little something for the two of us. Why should the kids have all the fun?"

"You're getting GAY PORN?"

I shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes it matters!" he snapped.


"Because... because..." he floundered but tried valiantly. He picked up another cover box of a greased-up, muscle bound guy, "because this isn't real! Because this is someone else's idea of what sex is. That's why."

"So what's your idea of sex?"


"What's your idea of sex?" I asked again, speaking just a little slower this time around to make sure he heard every word. "Come on, tell me, what in your heart of hearts gives you a hard-on."

He looked around and backed up a little. Lucky for him the other customer had fled, giving him and me both a wide berth. Other than Jose, we were totally alone. "Do we have to do this now, Tyler?"

"No time like the present. Come on, man! Sex, fucking, making it like sheep in the field -- making it WITH sheep in the field! This is as basic as it gets and you're going to tell me you don't know? You don't know what makes you horny?"

"Of course I know!" he snapped. "I just don't see why we have to talk about it is all."

"How aware are you of your own self if you can't look this in the face? Men get hard-ons. You said so yourself when you were in those therapy groups of yours. So, as your life has moved on, have you stopped getting erections or have you just been using them in different ways?"


I just stared at him, letting the smoke from my cigarette curl around us. There was a long, long pause.

"I don't wanna talk about it, is all," he said, finally, still not looking at me.

"This gets me hard," I told him, meeting his eyes relentlessly. "Naked bodies fucking are a turn on. Men and women turn me on. I get off on sex and sweat and cramps in the backs of my legs and messed up hair and clothes you probably shouldn't wear to work the next day. That turns me on. Now are you going to sit there and tell me that none of this affects you or should we both ignore Mr. Happy right now?"

I expected the whole thing would get a rise out of him. Luckily for us I was the one standing in front right now.

Again he got flustered. He tried to back up and regain some control.

I took a chance.

"No," I said, putting my hand over it and wrapping my fingers around the shaft. "Don't. It's the first honest thing that's come between us."

Again another long, long moment of quiet. Under my hand, I could feel him twitch.

"Yeah," I said, finally, nodding at him and slowly releasing my grip. "Better. Not great, but definite improvement."

"Was this a test?" he asked, suspicion shaping his face and turning it almost ugly.

I gathered up the film reels. "Yeah," I said, making sure that he was really looking at me this time. "Looks like I passed."

With that I felt he'd thought enough for now. I slammed myself forward again, paid for the movies with his credit cards, and brought us home, enjoying the porno movies of me that were flashing through his sleeping head along the way.

Probably wasn't the safest thing I'd ever done so far, but what the fuck did I ever care about that?

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