Mykola Dementiuk Likes Rude Mechanicals

(from M.Christian's Technorotica)

This is ... well, I don't really have the words for how wonderful this is: Mykola Dementiuk - who is a brilliant writer as well as a fantastic friend - did this very sweet review for Rude Mechanicals. Thanks, Mick!

It’s always a treat to read a new M. Christian ebook, especially at this holiday time of year, and though Rude Mechanicals isn’t Christmasy at all it has a lot of surprises and wonderment in its pages. I would even say it’s as surprising as his other books Me2 (body changes), Very Bloody Marys (hip vampires), and other books by this prolific author. He’s only getting better and better… 

In the one of the stories, "Blow Up," the theme of masturbation is prevalent throughout the tale until it explodes right in one’s hand or satisfied face, you might say. In "Billie" a female motorcyclist meets up with another female on the highway and the fun begins, if you can call it fun. While in "Beep" a machine orders a character to sexually respond, and he does so, by telephone to a mechanical voice. And by "Hot Definition" a pretty Japanese girl is sexually taunted by holographic images until she gets the better of them, in more ways than one. In "I Am Jo’s Vibrator" a woman, Josephine, gives her vibrator a good going over, until you have to question who is getting the working over, Jo or the vibrator. But by "Speaking Parts"…well, I think I will leave that up to you to see how great writing of a story can be…that is until you try it. The story is a marvel! 

Yet Rude Mechanicals is more than just stories about mindless dirty fucking it is sex with a living thinking brain, devious at times, soft and tender at others, or as good as a machine can do it. With Rude Mechanicals M. Christian shows us he is reaching the top with his creative power in that the writing is more complicated but also very satisfying as a whole. I can just imagine how high he will reach up as a prolific writer. The best to you, M. Christian, show us what it takes to be a great writer, because you certainly are one… 

Mykola (Mick) Dementiuk author of Holy Communion, Vienna Dolorosa, and Times Queer and others.

Patrick Califia Likes Rude Mechanicals

(from M.Christian's Technorotica)

This is a very special treat: a blurb from the legendary Patrick Califia - a great writer and an even greater friend. Thanks, Pat!


Here is the latest collection of M.Christian's insightful and original work. Fabulous! I have yet to read anything Chris has written without feeling that my own assumptions were challenged, and I was pushed to think about sexuality, politics, gender, and literature in a whole different way. There aren't enough people who can write from the polymorphous perverse perspective that he seamlessly adopts. He is a genuine ally of sexual minority communities and has walked the walk and talked the talk in dozens of different erotic and edgy experiences. If you'd like to expand your horizons and spread your wings (or your legs, or somebody else's legs), you couldn't have a better guide than the wise, wry, irreverent, and twisted M.Christian.
-Patrick Califia, author of Mortal Companion, Hard Men, and Macho Sluts.

Technorotica: Stories Shattering the Ultimate Taboo - In Dead Trees!

Here's a bit of extra-extra-extra-special news! Remember those two ebooks that the great folks at Renaissance/Sizzler recently published? The ones with techno/science fiction focuses - Better Than The Real Thing: Technorotica and Rude Mechanicals: Technorotica?

Well, Renaissance/Eros Editions have just published a very special - print edition only - edition of both ... plus extra-added content: Technorotica: Stories Shattering the Ultimate Taboo

“Love with robots will be as normal as love with other humans, while the number of sexual acts and lovemaking positions commonly practiced between humans will be extended, as robots teach more than is in all of the world’s published sex manuals combined.” -computer pioneer David Levy, in Love and Sex With Robots. 

Bondage, science fiction, fetishism, real realities and virtual realities collide in this unique collection by one of the most popular authors of erotica … ever!  

In the enigmatic M. Christian’s kinky new collection, two great things – technology and sex – go even better together! 

Welcome to Technorotica: a giant-sized collection of human-machine erotica. You’ll find everything from sexy robots to virtual reality lovers, from shameless science fiction to contemporary explorations of technology’s impact on our sex lives and our sexuality. Headlining this stellar collection are two unforgettable novellas: In “Hot Definition,” the story of a future just around our corner, Neko experiences the ultimate domination in a way she never expected; in “Speaking Parts,” two lovers, one with a camera-shutter eye, come together in a scorching, obsessive relationship that takes them both to the limits of sexuality – and beyond. Plus ten more provocative stories of sex and technosex. 

“Blow Up” alone makes it “worth buying I highly recommend this book.” -Fire Pages. 

“M. Christian is one hell of a writer. A no-holds-barred storyteller, he embraces his reader at the start and doesn’t let go until long after the end.” -Mari Adkins. 

“M. Christian’s stories squat at the intersection of Primal Urges Avenue and Hi-Tech Parkway … feral-eyed, half-naked … Truly an author for our post-everything 21st century.” -Paul Di Filippo, author The Steampunk Trilogy 

Cover art: Jade
Book design: Frankie Hill
ISBN-1615084479
Publication date: 4/03/2012
Pages: 170
List price: $15.99

Me: Erotica Readers & Writers Association Guest Author!

You may not know it but I am really, seriously blushing: the always-wonderful Erotica Readers & Writers Association (for whom I wrote my "Confessions Of A Literary Streetwalker" column for many years) just made me a guest author!  In addition to my bio three of my favorite stories are up there as well: "Hack Work" from The Bachelor Machine, "Billie" from Rude Mechanicals, and "Tinkling Of Tiny Silver Bells" from Licks & Promises.  Check it out here.

"Speaking Parts" Excerpt From Rude Mechanicals

Check this out: the very-great Gay/Lesbian Fiction Excerpt blog just posted a very teasing taste from my novella, "Speaking Parts," which is in my collection of technorotica: Rude Mechanicals. 

"Speaking Parts" is one of two novellas plus four expicit short stories of sex and technosex included in the collection Rude Mechanical: Technorotica by M. Christian. Two lovers, one with a camera-shutter eye, come together in a scorching, obsessive, edgy relationship that will take them both to the limits of sexuality and beyond.

Rude Mechanicals: Technorotica
Publisher: PageTurner (November 28, 2009)
ASIN: B002Z3Z9LA

Excerpt from "Speaking Parts:"

#

Pell remembered seeing Arc’s eye—it was the first thing she’d noticed.

Tourmaline and onyx. Silver and gold. A masterpiece watch set in a crystal sphere, the iris a mandala of glowing gold. Her blinks were a camera shutter’s, as imagined by the archetypal Victorian engineer but built by surgical perfection not found anywhere in Pell’s knowledge. The woman’s left eye was jeweled and precise, clicking softly as the woman looked around the gallery, as if the engineers who’d removed her original wet, gray-lensed ball had orchestrated a kind of music to go with their marvelous creation: a background tempo of perfect watch movements to accompany whatever she saw through their marvelous and finely crafted sight. Click, click, click.

An eye like that should have been in a museum, not mounted in a socket of simple human skin and bone, Pell had thought. It should have been in some other gallery, some better gallery, allowed only to look out at, to see other magnificent creations of skilled hands. Jare’s splashes of reds and blues, his shallow paintings were an insult to the real artistry of the woman’s eye.

That’s what Pell thought, at first, seeing Arc – but only seeing Arc’s perfect, mechanical eye.

Pell didn’t like to remember first seeing her that way – through the technology in her face. But it felt, to her, like it had its own kind of ironic perfection to deny it. So Pell lived with the biting truth that she didn’t, at first, see Arc – for her eye.

But later, right after she got momentarily lost in the beauty of Arc’s implant, the woman looked at Pell with her real eye, the gray, penetrating right one – and Pell forgot about the tourmaline, onyx, silver and gold machine.

She had finally seen Arc, herself – the woman, and not the simple, mechanical part. Next to her, the eye was cheap junk: a collection of metal, old rocks, and wires.

* * * *

She wasn’t Arc at first. She began as just the woman with the perfectly created eye. Then she was the beautiful woman. Then she was the woman where she didn’t belong. Seeing her eye, then seeing her, Pell lastly saw her as oil, the kind of oil you’d see pooling in the street, that had somehow managed to make its way into a glass of wine. Agreed, it was cheap red wine – something out of a box and not even a bottle, but, still – she was oil. She didn’t belong and that was obvious, despite the cheapness of the gallery. She could tell, cataloging her bashed and scuffed boots, noting her threadbare jeans, her torn T-shirt, that amid clean jeans and washed (and too black) turtlenecks, she was a discordant tone among the harmonious poseurs in Jare’s tiny South of Market studio.

The woman was aware of her discrepancy. She wandered the tiny gallery with a very large plastic tumbler of vin very ordinare, stopping only once in a while to look at one of Jare’s paintings.

Holding her wine tight enough to gently fracture the cheap plastic with cloudy stress lines, Pell watched her, stared at the tall – all legs and angles, broad and strong – woman with the artificial eye. She tried not to watch her too closely or too intently, sure that if she let slip her fascination she’d scare her off – or worse, bring on an indifferent examination of Pell. Through a sad ballet of a slightly curved lip and a stare that was nothing more than a glance of the eyes, the woman would see Pell but wouldn’t – and that would be an icy needle in Pell’s heart.

Pell had already taken too many risks that night. She already felt like she’d stepped off the edge and had yet to hit the hard reality of the ground. Traps and tigers, beasts and pitfalls for the unwary loomed all around Pell. She moved through her days with a careful caution, delicately testing the ice in front of her, wary of almost-invisible, murky lines of fault. She knew they were there, she’d felt the sudden falling of knowing she’d stepped too far, moved too quickly, over something that had proven, by intent or accident, not to be there. Pell didn’t push on the surface, didn’t put all her weight, or herself, on anything.

But then everything changed. She’d seen Arc and her eye.

The plastic cup chimed once, then collapsed in on itself. Turning first into a squashed oval, the glass cracked, splintered, then folded, the white seams of stress turning into sharp fissures of breakage. The red, freed of its cheap plastic prison, tumbled, cascaded out and down onto her.

Pell had worn something she knew wouldn’t fit with the rest of the crowd. The official color of San Francisco, she knew, would fill the place with charcoal and soot, midnight and ebony. White, she’d decided, would pull some of their eyes to her, make her stand out – absence of color being alone in a room full of people dressed in all colors, combined.

"Looks good on you."

The shock of the wine on her white blouse tumbled through Pell as an avalanche of warmth flowed to her face. The decision to wear white that night had come from a different part of herself, a part that had surprised her. Now she was furiously chastising that tiny voice, that fashion terrorist who had chosen the blouse over other, blacker ones.

And so Pell responded, "Not as good as you would" to the tall, leggy, broad shouldered girl with the artificial eye. Which was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the rest of her.

* * * *

Pell’s reason for being at the gallery was Jare. Although she could never wrap her perceptions around the gaunt boy’s paintings, she still came when he asked. Jare, Pell, Fallon, Rasp and Jest. They weren’t close – but then foxhole buddies aren’t always. They weren’t in combat, but they could be. All it would take would be one computer talking to another – no stable job history, thus conscription.

All it took were two computers, passing pieces of information back and forth. Till that happened, they hid and watched the possibility of a real foxhole death in a hot, sweaty part of Central America fly by.

Foxhole buddies. It was Jare’s term – some fleck of trivia that’d hung around him. They didn’t have an official name for their tiny society of slowly (and in some cases not too slowly) starving artists, but Pell was sure that Jare would smile at his trivial term being immortalized among a band of too-mortal kids.

That was Jare. While the rest of them tried to focus on pulling their paintings (Pell, Jare, and Rasp), music (Jest), and sculpture (Fallon) as high as they could, there was something else about Jare – something, like his paintings, that refused to be understood. His techniques were simple enough, broad strokes of brilliant color on soot-black canvas, but his reasons were more convoluted.

Or maybe, Pell had thought earlier that evening (before turning a white blouse red and seeing the woman with the artificial eye for the first time) both man and his work were simple: broad, bold statements designed to do nothing but catch attention. He was like his paintings, a grab for any kind of attention – an explanation too simple to be easily seen.

In the tiny bathroom, Pell tried to get the wine out of her blouse. Contradictory old wives’ tails: first she tried cold, then hot water. The sink ran pink and so, soon, did her blouse.

The woman with the eye stood outside the door, a surprisingly subtle smile on her large mouth. Every once and a while she’d say something, as if throwing a bantering line to the shy girl inside to keep her from drowning in embarrassment.

"Who’s he foolin? I can do better crap than this with a brush up my ass.”

"You should see this chick’s dress. Looks like her momma’s – and momma didn’t know how to dress, either.”

"Too many earrings, faggot. What year do you think this is?

"Hey, girl. Get out here with that shirt. It’s better looking than this fucking stuff on the walls."

Cold water on her hands, wine spiraling down the sink. Distantly, Pell was aware that her nipples were hard and tight – and not from the chill water. Down deep and inside, she was wet. It was a basic kind of primal moisture, one that comes even in the burning heat of humiliation. Finally, the blouse was less red than before. Planning to run to where she’d dropped her old leather coat to hide the stigmata of her clumsiness, her excitement in two hard brown points, she opened the door.

The tall woman smiled down at her, hot and strong. In one quick sweep of her eyes, Pell drank her tall length, strong shoulders, columnar legs. She was trapped, held fast between the hot eyes she knew must have been staring at her, pinning her straight to her embarrassment, and the presence of the woman.

Her eye, the eye, clicked a quick chime of precision – as if expanding its limits to encompass the totality of Pell. Pell did not mind her intense examination. It added, with a rush of feelings, to the quaking in her belly, the weakness in her knees.

"Gotta splash. Wait right here,” Arc said.

Of course she waited.

After a few hammering heartbeats, the door opened and she came out – butchly tucking her T-shirt back into her jeans – and Pell was again at the focus of her meticulously designed sight.

"You live anywhere close? I’m tired of this shit. You?"

"Down the block. Just on the corner," Pell said, trying hard not to smile too much.

The woman downed the small sample of red in her glass and, looking for a place to put it down, and not finding any, just dropped it with a sharp plastic clatter on the floor. "Show me. It can’t be worse than here. Too many fucking artists."

Zee Likes Rude Mechanicals and The Bachelor Machine

Here's a fantastic holiday present: a sweet review of my collections The Bachelor Machine and Rude Mechanicals by Zee, who also hosted a very great contest I am pleased and proud to be part of.

M. Christian is the most phenomenal erotic short story writer - ever! He is wildly diverse. Think heterosexual, gay, lesbian, threesomes, robots, technorata and other interesting objects against crazy settings, like historical, futuristic, present day and virtual reality. And the characters - immortals, robots, prostitutes, pornography photographer, spiritualists, technophiles, androids, police officers, and humans just like us. M. Christian redefines sex, love and bdsm. And the greatest part about M. Christian's work is that he has something for everyone and in perfectly crafted bite size short stories for every appetite. (I have previously reviewed Blow Up and Beep, both of which I found hilarious and on a light, funny side.) Every lover of romance needs to read at least one of M. Christian's books, and I have two fantastic recommendations for you today - The Bachelor Machine and Rude Mechanicals. 

The Bachelor Machine consists of 18 short stories. Some are light and funny, others are quite sexual, and others are somewhat grim. There are a wide array of characters, guaranteeing that no two stories will be the same. What I love most about The Bachelor Machine is the surprise. You finish a story feeling shocked, in awe, and thinking differently about sex, and when you read the title of the next short story, it gives nothing away as to the contents it holds secret. I feel like it challenges you in a way. "You won't know what this is about until you read me." Yes, that is how it mocked me. So I read the next story, having my world completely thrown into chaos over and over again. The same is true for Rude Mechanicals. This title features four fantastic shorts and two novellas. Just as hot, as provocative, and as daring as his previous work, M. Christian once again stretches your mind to its sexual limits. Perfect for those long, warm winter nights, or shorts spurts of lag time during your hectic day. Priced just right, you can grab both (22 shorts and 2 novellas) for under $12. That's definitely a steal. I promise these titles won't let you imagination down.

In the words of M. Christian, "Imagination is Intelligence with an Erection!"

Cheeky Mechanical

Winter Heat Week

Here's a great treat: my pal Zee, who reviewed "Beep" and "Blow Up" from my Rude Mechanicals collection, is having a holiday review and contest fest which includes a gift or two from yers truly. So check out her page for the event and maybe enter to get a treat or two from me in your stocking ...

"All Is Full of Love" by Björk

Björk-All is Full of Love from baris yaman on Vimeo.

More Rude Mechanicals

  
Via my fantastic friend, Kit O'Connell

Just For The Hell Of It -

- and because it kind-of, sort-of ties to the re-release of The Bachelor Machine, my science fiction erotica collection, I have just started a little Tumblr site called Rude Mechanicals, full of images of sex and robots and sexy robots and robots having sex and stuff like that ... it ALSO kind-of, sort-of ties to my very-fun collection of erotic stories, Rude Mechanicals. 

Zee Likes "Beep" From Rude Mechanicals

This just keeps getting better and better! Not only did the great Zee write a sweet review for "I Am Jo's Vibrator," and "Blow Up" but she just did a review for yet another story from my Rude Mechanicals collection: "Beep!" Yer the best, Zee!

M. Christian does it again with another fantastic short story from Rude Mechanicals. This title is worth buying for Blow Up alone, but Beep makes this even more worth the purchase!

Imagine you are a man walking through a doorway, peeling off the layers from the day, and hitting the play button on your answering machine. There is a Beep! and you hear a woman’s voice. She is calling you a slut! She accuses you of being a bad boy in need of punishment. Through a series of back-to-back messages, all preceded by a Beep!, this woman tells you in detail how she will punish you. Listening to each recorded message, you begin to sense her power, her control, and her dominatrix ways of punishment. What’s a man to do beside listen to each and every erotic message?!

I will admit that M. Christian completely surprised me with the ending (I’ll let ya’ll read about that!). I never saw it coming. I really like two things about M. Christian’s writing style.

(1) He is diverse. He can write a BDSM short like Beep, a sexually humorous piece like I Am Jo’s Vibrator, and a fetish short like Blow Up in the blink of an eye.

(2) His writing style conveys sexually explicit details, but it is never vulgar. He really knows how to keep his work tasteful.

Absolutely worth the purchase ladies! I highly recommend Rude Mechanicals.

Zee Likes "Blow Up" From Rude Mechanicals

This is so sweet! Zee previously reviewed my story "I Am Jo's Vibrator" and also just reviewed "Blow Up" from Rude Mechanicals. Thanks so much, Zee!

I am thrilled to tell ya’ll that M. Christian is an absolute sweetheart. After my review of I Am Jo’s Vibrator, he so kindly sent me Rude Mechanicals. Isn’t this cover insane! I’m sure ya’ll know about my love of the short story, and I must say that M. Christian is a phenomenal short story writer. It really takes talent and a keen eye to compact essential details into only a few pages! I am truly excited to read and share all of the shorts with ya, but today I will just be talking about the first short: Blow Up.

To be completely honest, Blow Up is laugh-out-loud hilarious as well as sensual and erotic. Blow Up is about a man with a fetish for… a blow up ball. Picture an exercise ball, but smaller. Written in the first person, we get to travel with our man to the local Toys R Us to purchase his plastic ball, and then travel back to his house where he decribes his prep for and execution of his next orgasm.

I made the mistake of reading this short at work. My cubicle-mates were definitely looking at me when I would shriek with laughter one minute then have my mouth drop the next minute. I find his fetish so amusing because I know there is someone out there in the world who really does this! What I like best is how M. Christian’s writing style reminded me of reading someone else’s diary, peeking into their most secret habits, truly being a fly on the wall.

Well done! M. Christian. I can’t wait to dig in to the rest of your shorts, and I will never see a plastic ball the same way again! If you want a sneak peak, read an excerpt here!

Grace & Beauty

I'm very excited to have some stories recently posted to the very-fun Grace & Beauty site. So head on over if you want to read "Blow Up" from Rude Mechanicals, and "Nighthawks" from Licks & Promises.

Be sure and keep an eye on the site as even more stories and such will be going up very soon!

Mykola Dementiuk Likes Rude Mechanicals

This is ... well, I don't really have the words for how wonderful this is: Mykola Dementiuk - who is a brilliant writer as well as a fantastic friend - just sent me this very sweet review for Rude Mechanicals. Thanks, Mick!

It’s always a treat to read a new M. Christian ebook, especially at this holiday time of year, and though Rude Mechanicals isn’t Christmasy at all it has a lot of surprises and wonderment in its pages. I would even say it’s as surprising as his other books Me2 (body changes), Very Bloody Marys (hip vampires), and other books by this prolific author. He’s only getting better and better…

In the one of the stories, "Blow Up," the theme of masturbation is prevalent throughout the tale until it explodes right in one’s hand or satisfied face, you might say. In "Billie" a female motorcyclist meets up with another female on the highway and the fun begins, if you can call it fun. While in "Beep" a machine orders a character to sexually respond, and he does so, by telephone to a mechanical voice. And by "Hot Definition" a pretty Japanese girl is sexually taunted by holographic images until she gets the better of them, in more ways than one. In "I Am Jo’s Vibrator" a woman, Josephine, gives her vibrator a good going over, until you have to question who is getting the working over, Jo or the vibrator. But by "Speaking Parts"…well, I think I will leave that up to you to see how great writing of a story can be…that is until you try it. The story is a marvel!

Yet Rude Mechanicals is more than just stories about mindless dirty fucking it is sex with a living thinking brain, devious at times, soft and tender at others, or as good as a machine can do it. With Rude Mechanicals M. Christian shows us he is reaching the top with his creative power in that the writing is more complicated but also very satisfying as a whole. I can just imagine how high he will reach up as a prolific writer. The best to you, M. Christian, show us what it takes to be a great writer, because you certainly are one…

Mykola (Mick) Dementiuk author of Holy Communion, Vienna Dolorosa, and Times Queer and others.

Patrick Califia Likes Rude Mechanicals

This is a very special treat: a blurb from the legendary Patrick Califia - a great writer and an even greater friend. Thanks, Pat!


Here is the latest collection of M.Christian's insightful and original work. Fabulous! I have yet to read anything Chris has written without feeling that my own assumptions were challenged, and I was pushed to think about sexuality, politics, gender, and literature in a whole different way. There aren't enough people who can write from the polymorphous perverse perspective that he seamlessly adopts. He is a genuine ally of sexual minority communities and has walked the walk and talked the talk in dozens of different erotic and edgy experiences. If you'd like to expand your horizons and spread your wings (or your legs, or somebody else's legs), you couldn't have a better guide than the wise, wry, irreverent, and twisted M.Christian.
--Patrick Califia, author of Mortal Companion, Hard Men, and Macho Sluts.

Rude Mechanicals - The Commercial! Part 2

To go along with their commercial, here's a special solo spot the great folks at Renaissance E Books/Sizzler books put together for my erotica collection, Rude Mechanicals!

Rude Mechanicals - The Commercial!

Check this out: a very cool commercial from Renaissance E Books/Sizzler books, including my own Rude Mechanicals!

Adult eBook Shop

Here's some great news for all my fans - both of them - living in the UK: the great folks at the British-based Adult eBook Shop has a page featuring a lot of my new books, including my very recently released Rude Mechanicals collection!

RUDE MECHANICALS Is Out!

I SO love this new world of publishing! Remember how I mentioned that Rude Mechanicals, my new erotica collection from Renaissance E Books, was going to be published soon? Well, 'soon' is right now! Below is the description, and here is the link to buy it.

Bondage, science fiction, fetishism, real realities and virtual realities collide in this unique collection by one of the most popular authors of erotica - ever!

"M. Christian's stories squat at the intersection of Primal Urges Avenue and Hi-Tech Parkway ... feral-eyed, half-naked ... Truly an author for our post-everything 21st century."
- Paul Di Filippo, author of the Steampunk Trilogy.

Two unforgettable novellas highlight Rude Mechanicals: In "Hot Definition," the story of a future just around our corner, Neko experiences the ultimate domination from the woman who is her master; and in "Speaking Parts," the second novella, two lovers, one with a camera-shutter eye, come together in a scorching, obsessive, edgy relationship that will take them both to the limits of sexuality and beyond. Plus four provocative, physically explicit short stories of sex and technosex.

"M. Christian writes like a dream!"
- Paula Guran, DarkEcho