Better Than The Real Thing: More Technorotica
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by M. Christian
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica/Science Fiction
Description: Two great things even better together: technology and sex! Welcome to Better Than The Real Thing: More Technorotica - a pocket-sized collection of some of machine-obsessive erotica. In these gloriously digital pages you'll find everything from sexcy robots to virtual reality lovers, from shameless science fiction to contemporary explorations of technological impact on our sex lives and our sexuality. And they are all event better than the real thing. Or are they? Decide for yourself. Charge up your own meat-machine processor for a wild and sparking ride into new frontiers of sexuality. In "State" a prostitute who is trained to behave like an expensive robot designed for sex; in "Hackwork" a high-tech form of possession allows a woman to hire her body out for sexual pleasure to clients that will feel her every sensation remotely; and many more outrageous and kinky stories! Pick up even Better Than The Real Thing: More Technorotica and you'll have your erotic world changed in all kinds of hot and interesting ways! "M. Christian is one hell of a writer. He paints his universes and characters in full, living color, thrills the reader with non-stop action. A no-holds-barred storyteller, he embraces his reader at the start and doesn't let go until long after the end." - Mari Adkins
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: August 2011
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [118 KB]
Reading time: 72-100 min.
EVEN BETTER THAN THE REAL THING
I love gadgets, gizmos, doodads, whatchmacallits, doohickies and thingamabobs ... and I mean I really love them.
Of course, I have a computer; naturally, I have an iphone; fer sure, I use buckets of flashdrives; and if this book sells enough copies I'm buying an ipad.
In short, if it beeps, purrs, clicks, streams, or 4Gs I'll cradle it in my arms and whisper sweet nothings into its 600 MHz processor.
Isn't it natural, therefore, that I'd mix, merge, blenderize, and fuse my lust for technology for my lust for ... well, lust?
Welcome to Even Better Than The Real Thing: More Technorotica -- a pocket-sized collection of some of my machine-obsessive erotica. In these gloriously digital pages you'll find everything from shameless science fiction to contemporary explorations of technological (and moist) impact.
So, to charge up your own meat-machine processor for the wild and sparking ride ahead, here's a little piece I wrote on this very subject:
Sure, the technology's kinda crude right now (bored executrix, sitting behind her desk, phone set to BUZZ between panty-hose painted thighs, waiting for a lover to call), but just let those horny ol' geeks and dweebs down in Silicone Valley work on it for a few more years and -- ZAM!
The hoary old cliché with a new twist tells of how fast things are moving: "When I was young, son, when we fucked we actually touched each other." Right now (aside from the executrix) things are at the "asking her out" stage -- we've got quite a while to go before first, second, third base, and SCORE! (clickity, clack on a keyboard: "[Are you naked?]" he types. "[Yeah, and my nipples are hard and my pussy's real wet]" a guy somewhere responds).
Right now, the science of what has been labeled teledildonics is still in it's masturbating under the sheets stage -- the subject of geek dreams, Adobe Photoshop pictorials, and a few hot zines. The electronic LSD wonderland of Virtual Reality is barely up and walking, let alone getting it on. Don't worry though, like the camera, the telephone, the VCR, and the PC, sex will be right there when the breakthrough is made -- there's something in human nature that right after instant the light bulb lights, a new invention is born, the next immediate thought is always "Can I fuck with it?"
Getting from peg A to slot B is not that far off. Right now the big push is getting the operator's hand into the VRverse, but you can bet other body parts won't be far behind. For those who've been living in caves, and who seem to have missed the hoop and holler about VR, the idea's simple: an operator wears a helmet equiped with teeny-tiny televisions over his eyes, a microphone so people can hear him, speakers over his ears, (and in the next few years) a jumpsuit with feelie and touchie capabilities, (and when the designers get horny) a "love machine" over his cock and balls -- and then our intrepid explorer enters a computer-generated environment where he (okay, I'm being sexist -- but do you really think a woman would come up this kinda stuff?) can "interact" with other similarly-wired folks, and entertainment programs -- in short "anything that moves."
The sky was blue, the hills Astroturf green. Clouds, lazy and perfectly stratocumulus, drifted by. It was a perfect day. But then it was always a perfect day -- here
"Hey, hunk," BYTEBITCH said to him, reaching out a reflective hand for his polished and gleaming cock, "wanna get it on? My rez is good, my OS's faster than a bunny in heat, my RAM's stacked and packed. I'm ready and wet -- better than the real thing, baby."
Her chrome tits bounced cartoon and firm, steely and ripe, nipples like, exactly like, flashlight batteries. Her hand on his cock was a slow, precise squeeze and a gentle, whirring stroke. Oh, man, she knew how to program!
"Let's get it on!" he said, putting his mirrored hand on her mirrored tit, reflexors giving the D-cup the pressure of weight, "My hard's up and running, and I'm ready to RAM!"
Somewhere else, linked, suited, wired, and wearing chrome tits, "Then let's get hacking!" a guy somewhere said.
What's cool and trippy about this next computer/sexual revolution is the way it will allow folks of every bent, kink, inclination, and obsession to get it on with their objects of affection. It could be a great learning tool, a way to exorcise sexy demons, test out new techniques, for homophobes to safely try it with someone of the same sex (or vices versa -- that sexy computer-enhanced bimbette could be a Bear named Bubba): Virtual Reality is either what you want to see, or be seen as. Of course it's also an excuse for the social inept, the geeks, the dangerous, and just plain too weird, to get their particular brand of nastiness down to a fine and navel-gazing art. Tech, the brand-new old saying goes, knows no morality --
And we're so close -- all it'll take is a couple of ground-breaking gizmos and gadgets (happening all the time, now-a-days) some clever marketing, and before you know it, we'll all be makin' virtual bacon! All you need to make an effective (and fun, mustn't forget fun!) virtually real environment is some kind of system that would allow you to touch something that wasn't there -- ideally so you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. In a few years, you could stand next to your handy-dandy home computer, all duded up in your VR gear, and fer instance, call up Carol Doda and swim between her mountainous breasts; have Mr. Right for a night -- with his kind, perfect hands, his long, luscious tongue, and really, really big feet; or you could dive headfirst into one of Caligula's more impressive birthday bashes and dog-paddle from one pussy, cock, asshole, mouth, to the next. You could ask a sweet young thing to sit on your lap. You could defeat the slobbering monsters from the planet Xxxys -- or fuck them all silly.