The question of whether I would fuck Megan Fox is, well, not really a question. Megan Fox is a bi-con, she seems to dabble in a bit of vamp play, and the woman feels like today’s more sinister answer to Pamela Anderson and the beach tits of Baywatch. However, this question is complicatedj when we consider one slightly more terrifying iteration of Fox: the undead succubus in Jennifer’s Body.
The 2009 horror film, starring Fox as the titular character, Jennifer Check, had something for everyone: gore for the horror fans, high school hotties to eyefuck, feminist undertones which relegate the jocks and sadbois to the background or to the grave, and queer awakenings for baby femmes and people who’d never seen bisexuality so unmockingly present on the big screen. And, for me, it provided a true pondering of how fornication with one maneater demon might work.
To properly ponder whether or not I’d fuck Jennifer, let’s forget for a moment that boning a corpse is illegal in most states minus a few (Google now thinks I’m a loophole necrophiliac)—since Jennifer was technically murdered by evil Adam Brody in a Satanic sacrificial ritual gone wrong. Then, the remaining barriers to demon-fucking are actually not insurmountable: unseemly body parts, a tendency to vomit ectoplasm, and the imminent risk of death.
Although Jennifer is a bombshell cheerleader demon, she is still a fucking demon who snacks on humans to hit her food groups. To do so, she’s developed what appears to be an unhinged jaw that rips the skin at the corners of her smile displaying a mixture of wolf canines and shark dagger teeth, sort of like if Edward Scissorhands lived inside your mouth. She is known for greeting her bestie (who she lovingly calls Vagisil) with a blood-drenched grin, shrieking from time to time as if mid-exorcism or orgasm by Satan, and has been caught vomiting spikey goo that could, in theory, make things a little slippery. She has almost no table manners, instead slurping blood from her victims directly from a gaping wound in the stomach and climbing atop furniture to crouch like a constipated gargoyle. AND SHE NEVER KNOCKS BEFORE ENTERING. Would not recommend bringing her home to meet the parents, but that is besides the point.
I suspect that succubus Jennifer “not even a backdoor virgin” Check is a top bitch, and that she would, without hesitation, eat my box.
The Jez staff has mostly vehemently disagreed with me on demon fuckability, citing the following reasons:
- Kady Ruth Ashcraft: Megan Fox hotness is predicated on her being sort of sly and evilish, so if she went full demon, the mystery is gone. Would not F.
- Caitlin Cruz: TBH seems like sex with the demon would involve too many liquids…there will simply be too many.
- Gabrielle Bruney: I think I’m a no too. But getting into Adam Brody’s van? Sadly, maybe.
- Rich Juzwiak: It’s a no from me.
- Jenna Amatulli: Yeah no. Not worth it. She doesn’t seem like she’d be a giver.
- Laura Bassett: Hard yes. What a way to die!
I’m confident that my fellow staffers, while probably more logical creatures, are also weenies. I know how it sounds: The threat of imminent death is enough to make you dry up and hang some cobwebs in your vag, but you just have to get a little crafty. You could, in theory, catch her on a day in which she’s already gobbled a goon and you’re bound to get the “lesbi-gay” version of Jennifer that makes out with Anita “Needy” Lesnicki, played by Amanda Seyfried, while taking on the role of power bottom. All the liquids could also be good for lubrication (maybe???) in the case that general pandemic dread has popped your libido like a balloon, and you could venture to guess that her inclination to shove Needy in the film might also spell some advanced BDSM techniques. And don’t forget that fear is erotic, y’all. The adrenaline rush of fear is not unlike the rush of adrenaline that engorges a dick. I can’t imagine anything more hot than being lured to a haunted house!!
Plus, if you’re the type who likes being denigrated in bed, I bet this demon would knock the shit out of your confidence. She has a god complex, lights her own tongue on fire, and will likely whisper cringe one liners in your ear, like, “You give me such a wettie.”
Perhaps my colleagues (besides Bassett) are right, and all of this teasing might just result in being shredded into “lasagna with teeth.” But if I have to choose between a boring life or sexy death, my morbid ass is choosing death in the name of good fuckery. I’d rather go out with a literal bang by riding a levitating demon all the way to my grave than croak in my sleep. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll even ask me to show her my “breast stroke” in a swampy mausoleum. So yeah, sorry, I’m choosing glory, torn limb to limb by the hottest demon ever to walk the earth.