Over the past several days, a certain Star Trek: The Next Generation prose piece has ensnared the popular imagination the world over. It's a story that's been recycled since time immemorial, due to its sheer cross-cultural thematic resonance.
I am, of course, referring to author Kitty Glitter's Amazon Kindle tour de force Wesley Crusher: Teenage Fuck Machine, an edifying fable in which the Enterprise's resident rascal has a sexual awakening during a threesome with a barbed-penised cat man. Also, Captain Jean Luc Picard is walloped in the gonads.
Very little is known about the narrative genesis of Wesley Crusher: Teenage Fuck Machine. In fact, Wesley Crusher portrayer Wil Wheaton was completely uninvolved with this radical redefinition of the character. "I don't have to read Wesley Crusher, Teenage Fuck Machine, Dottie. I lived it," opined Wheaton on Twitter. "Well, except for the fuck machine part."
Since debuting on Amazon February 15, WC:TFM has catapulted up the Kindle sales charts — as of this post's publication date, Wesley Crusher was the 47th most popular Action & Adventure Kindle book for sale. Its meteoric rise may have something to do with the fact that Amazon Prime users can download it for free — as happy reviewer April notes, "Clearly worth the $0.00 it took to get this thing onto my Kindle. I would have happily paid twice that amount."
Reviewers also found WC:TFM steeped in psychological symbolism. Would you expect anything less from the author of Michael Jackson: The Sequel, whose tagline is, "What happens when Michael Jackson must face off against three of the creepiest monsters ever?"
Amazon critic Gahvin deemed Wesley Crusher a routine affair, save for the author's bold addition of a new feline cast member who should tickle both Trekkies and those readers who enjoy a deep exegesis:
One notable exception is the introduction of an original character, the fearsome "Meow Solo," who is Glitter's representation of the primal drive of the human id (in contrast to Captain Picard's moralistic superego.) Solo's harrowing descent into the dark tunnel of collective memory is a stunning and unexpected moment in this otherwise dreary Psych 101 textbook.
Ultimately, the onus lies with the individual to interpret the true meaning of WC:TFM — I'm pretty sure the latter half of the title leaves us open to some ripping Marxist readings about "the commodification of the fresh-faced," et cetera, et cetera. Anyway, here's the free preview of Wesley Crusher. We haven't seen such Amazonian prose since Deadly Equines. All typos and narrative choices from this paragon of self-publishing are presented here unbesmirched: