Odd Balling (2)

Ladies and gentlemen (and all the folks between), here's a taste of my brand new Odd Balling column for the great folks at YNOT.  For the rest just click here. 

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YNOT – While the first two weeks in February ushered in the Chinese Year of the Golden Rabbit, they may as well have been called "The Week of the Transvestite Platypus" for all the outrageous, bizarre and just-plain-weird things that have popped up.

Not to insult transvestites, you understand ... or platypuses, for that matter.

Take, for instance, Asia News Network’s report that Thai airline PC Air will be offering flights featuring cabin staff with ... well, “staffs”: transsexual cabin crews.

"We are the first airline to hire all the genders. This has brought us a positive perception," airline spokesman Chuthathip Ratanasophon said — though no one has commented on what passengers are supposed to pull in case of emergency decompression.

Protection seems to be the obsession of the week, beginning with the theft of 726,000 condoms. As reported by Digital Spy, the rubbers vanished on the way from the manufacturer, Sagami Rubber Industries, to Japan.

"This has never happened to us before, and we are very perplexed,” Norinari Wakui of Sagami Rubber said about the theft. “We are not certain if it was of a premeditated nature."

While it is not YNOT.com’s business to offer investigative advice, we suggest the Japanese authorities keep an eye out for a shifty-looking character with a suspiciously bulging wallet.

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Watch Out For The Mysterious "M"

Okay, I know I can be a bit of a character but this is beyond 'meta:' my sweet friend Fulani recently sold a book of his kick-ass erotica to a certain publisher I work with, and whom I am rather partial to, and in celebration he wrote this very cool little piece ... guest starring someone you may recognize:

He first saw me at the art exhibition. Would have seen a lot of me, I guess, since I was one of the exhibits. He left his business card with the organizers. Fulani, it said. Just the one name, or nickname.

People said he was genuine, but reclusive. They said he lived in a suburban house with a workshop in the back garden and did most of his business online.

He was older than I’d thought, but puckish. He looked at me as if to say “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

He read my stuff and said he wanted to introduce me to M. M would want to publish it.
Only thing was, I didn’t know who M was, and I’d only just met Fulani.

Fulani was supposed to be straight-up, a good reputation, a well-known figure on the fetish scene, a man of his word.

I told him I wanted to know more about his bona fides. He nodded. “You want to know I am who your friends say I am, that I’m not going to rip you off big time.” Also he noticed I was looking at the earthenware pot in the corner of the room. It contained a selection of canes and crops.

His outhouse had a big, heavy vintage flatbed press.

“I use it to make limited edition prints and books,” he explained as he tied my wrists to the top of the frame. “I could make a photo print of your journal and publish a hundred copies. But whether there’s a market for them in that format – that’s the question.”

I tested the bonds. They were tight. He knew his ropes. I made a sound that came out halfway between a purr and growl.

“My opinion is, as a new author you’re better off selling to a publisher who can move a lot of copies.” He unzipped my skirt and noticed for the first time that I hadn’t bothered with underwear. “Also,” he said, “my opinion is, you have a wonderful ass. I shall enjoy putting marks on it.” Judging by the way he ran his fingers over my ass cheeks, he’d noted that I had a few faded bruises on there. Tomas’s doing, from a couple of days previously.

He left me there while he went back to fetch the canes. It was a warm afternoon. The scent of honeysuckle drifted through an open window, mixed with the richer smell of printer’s ink. I planted my feet wide apart and tried to relax. He was probably five minutes. In my head it was about five hours: I was after all naked in a shed in a suburban garden, visible through the window, about to be marked up by a complete stranger.

It was that familiar, deliciously deviant feeling.

What can I say? He knew his stuff. Started gently and built up the sensation slowly, on the well-known principle that you can always go harder but can’t take back one that’s too hard. He began with a crop, then a longer, stiff riding whip that was moderately stingy. I wriggled. He chuckled. I started to get into the zone. He noticed my breathing changing, I think.

The cane he used was heavy, about as thick as his thumb. Made me present my ass. One stroke. I pulled against the cuffs, the sting of it reverberating through my body. He let me compose myself, slow down my breathing, present my ass again.

Six strokes. I felt all the little jumping, twitching, sizzling connections from ass to pussy to thighs belly spine back of neck and crawling into my brain. I felt fevered. I was ready for him to take me, then and there, in that position.

Instead he made me turn around, face out from the frame.

Through half-closed eyes I saw a wooden tray with pegs on it, and a length of string.

Pegs in two lines, starting at each collarbone and running across my breasts, towards my navel, then to just above my clit and a couple on the inside of each thigh.

“I’m sure you can figure this out,” he said, threading the string from each peg to the next in a long line. I was more interested in the sensations from the pegs on my breasts, my belly, my thighs.

“This process tends to make victims quite vocal,” he murmured. Victims, plural, I noticed. There was a ballgag in his hand. Then it was in my mouth and buckled tighter than was strictly comfortable. I did a lot of mmmph-mmmphing just for effect.

He seemed to enjoy the effect. When he brushed against me I could feel his erection pushing on my hip.

He left the pegs on for a quite a while. Assured me this would add to the effect.

Certainly made me breathe harder, trying to put myself in the right mental space to handle the sensations. Trying to still my body, not squirm, not move my hips the way they really wanted to move.

Fingers moved gently over my tits, belly, clit. No fair. I’m ready, just fuck me.

When he pulled the cord that yanked off the pegs it was a massive headrush. You’d think it should be painful, but the sensation just disconnected my head from my body and cushioned me in endorphins.

I was dazed, limp and hanging in the cuffs, eyes refusing to focus. The ringing in my ears was the echo of me squealing through the gag, I think. And all I could think to say was the one thing I wanted to happen. Uck ee oww. No consonants because the gag prevented them, but he got my meaning and fulfilled my wish. Spread me over the flatbed of the press, opened my legs. And yes, I was juiced up.

This guy was, I’d say, twenty years my senior. Back where I grew up, that could have made him old enough to be my father.

I’d figured that before I came here. Was it, unconsciously, why I’d chosen the over-the-knee socks, the short skirt and cropped top? The deviant schoolgirl look? Had I wanted the age-play aspect of this?

These were thoughts I only had afterwards, because he was long and vigorous, and twenty years older or not, he kept going a hell of a long time.

When I finally came round, got mind and body back together, he was looking though my handwritten journal again.

“Interesting stuff,” he remarked. “It’s like a renaissance of erotica, in the classical sense of the term.”

“Huh?”

“Renaissance: a re-awakening of artistic and intellectual inquiry into the world and the human condition. Never mind. Let’s just say it’s good.”

***

I rewrote a lot. Put entries in date order, changed names and some details to protect the guilty. Rephrased the whole thing in the third person, so I was a character in my own stories.

Here’s what the mysterious M said: “Great news, sweetie – the publisher loves your book. Please sign the attached contract.”

I could have been fucked sideways.

Actually, I was. Fulani did. It became our regular thing. Especially after I threatened to write another book that would be about him.

He knows I’m not joking. Says he’ll have to make sure I have enough material for it.

Bibrary Bookslut Talks To Me

This was a LOT of fun: the fantastic Bibrary Bookslut just did an interview with yers truly.  Here's a taste and to read the rest of the great chat just click here.

♥ For those who may be new to your writing, and who haven't yet checked out your writing, please tell us a little about yourself.

Oh, boy, where to start?  Well, my usual pseudonym is "M.Christian" (though I have others) and I'm mostly known – if I'm known at all – as an erotica writer (though I've written many other things).  My primary writing site is at http://www.mchristian.com/ (though – you guessed it – I have others).

♥ The journey from 'aspiring' to 'accomplished' can be a long one (and you clearly qualify as accomplished!). When did you begin writing, and how did you feel when you first saw your work in print?

Oh, you (blush)!  Like a lot of writers I certainly don't feel 'accomplished' ... it's all kind of relative, I guess. 

You could say I've always been creative ... the kid in the back of the class drawing pictures of rockets and robots when he should have been listening to what the teacher was saying. I remember writing my first story in the 4th grade, though it wasn't until early high school that I heard that (maybe, possibly) there were people out there who wrote stories for a living. Shortly thereafter I went after that with a kind of (to be polite) pathological vengeance: off and on I tried to write a story a week, though it took me close to ten years to finally sell one.

♥ So, why did you choose erotica as a genre of choice? Is there something specific that draws you to it, or something you feel it offers that other forms of literature do not?

You could say that it chose me: that first story I sold was to a magazine called FutureSex, and then that same story was picked up for Best American Erotica ... and it all sort of took off from there.  I really never planned on being an erotica writer but, always the pragmatist, if someone's buying them I'm writing. 

But I'll let you in on a secret: even though I mostly write erotica, I'm secretly not really writing it.  When I sit down to write something for an erotic market I'm actually writing what I want to write – mystery, horror, romance, science fiction, whathaveyou – and 'leave the lights on' when it comes to the sex scene.  Beyond that, though, I have to say that erotica is actually a very welcoming, supportive, and flexible genre – much more than a lot of others I write in.  A pal of mine once described erotica as being like science fiction back in the 50s, or mysteries in the 30s: where everything was still fresh and new and writers were having a blast creating everything from scratch.   

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An Early Birthday Present: Model of A Theo Jansen Strandbeest

It may be a month or so early but here's a cool birthday treat I bought myself: a model of a Theo Jansen Strandbeest (thanks J-List)

The Looking Glass - Thanks, Folks!

Just wanted to toss out a well-deserved thanks to the great folks at The Looking Glass and the fun folks who attended my Magic Words: An Erotic Salon class yesterday.  It was a real blast to do!

Love Without Gun Control - The Introduction

Here's a bit of fun: the introduction to my collection of fantasy/science fiction/horror and (believe it or not) very little smut, Love Without Gun Control.  This was a lot of fun to write ... hope you like!

Congratulations on your purchase of the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine. Utilizing the finest in Hack Technology, we at Write Way guarantee that if correctly used and maintained the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine can give you years of successfully written.

After removing the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine from its ecologically protective shipping container, place it in a convenient location where it will be away from direct sunlight, moisture, dirt or dust, or undue criticism. Next, attach the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine’s Driving Force inlet jack to the nearest source of creative energy. We are Write Way recommend a standard Emotionally Vacant Upbringing (EVU), or Societally Isolated Childhood (SIC) coupled with the optional Write Way Rare Parental Approval (RPA) module for efficient creative drive. Warning: Insufficient creative energy can result in repetitive, arrogant results (see Appendix A: MeMeMe Syndrome) or false modesty (Appendix B: Blush Syndrome).

After attaching your Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine to an available Driving Force, open the Inspiration Input panel located on the lower right section of the machine. Using a small, sharp instrument (such as your penis), activate/deactivate the appropriate DIPshit to assign the desired introduction inspiration input. Warning: Failure to activate the correct combination can result in various undesirable results, leading to arrest and criminal prosecution and/or Literary Awards.

Next remove the deebing support ring (located under the forelock wheel assembly) and carefully stipple the mantune cage until the blue light rotates into the green. With the loose pin in your left hand, then proceed to osculate the frandip to achieve maximum caustic relux feedback. If the frandip doesn’t achieve enough caustic relux feedback, consult the enclosed Troubleshooting Guide or kick the mantune cage wearing a size twelve steel-toed boot, aiming specifically for the wizzing input slot.After the caustic relux feedback has been achieved, it is time to select the Editorial Interface Mask (EIM). Please note that three pre- set Editorial Interface Masks have been preloaded into the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine, specifically the Father Figure (FF), the Tyrannical Ogre (TO), and the Uninspired Hack (UH). If you are interested in other Editorial Interface Masks, the Automatic Introduction Writing Machine Upgrade contains ten others as well as additional viewpoint features such as Alcoholic Blurring (AB) and World-weary Cynicism (WC).

To fully utilize the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine’s Deadline Matching Feature (DMF) it’s important to configure the Irresponsibility and Compulsiveness scale, located on the back of the machine, next to the Frustrated Author Input (FAI) and the Destructive Relationship Exhaust Fan (DREF). Turning the pip knob to the left will increase the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine’s dependability in meeting responsibilities (real or imaginary), though it will also affect the Spontaneity Output Mechanism possibly resulting in a creative, if predictable, column. Reversing the pip knob will diminish predictability but can also result in what is commonly referred to as Deadline Lapse Syndrome, which has been proven to be a leading cause of Writer Termination (WT). Correct balancing of these two forces is integral to the correct operation of the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine.

While we at Write Way understand that even after utilizing the excellent technology embodied in our Automatic Introduction Writing Machine there are other, unknown factors that can affect Creative Output (CO) and Monetary Input (MI), we must still insist that payment for the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine be received within one month of delivery (depending on location and volatility of local delivery personnel). Failure to expedite payment will result in financial and physical penalties, possibly including fines, levies, liens, testicular removal, spinal rearrangement, dental extraction, and colonic impaction.

You are now almost ready to use your Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine to produce admirable and possibly noticable introductions. Before continuing, however, it is important to observe the three-stage Safety Feature Checklist (SFC):

• To ensure proper lubrication of the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine’s internal assembly, a fifth of cheap bourbon must be fed into the Inhibition GearBox (IGB) on a daily basis. If suitably cheap bourbon is not available, a bottle of cough syrup or rubbing alcohol can be used.

• If overheating occurs, the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine must be automatically switched into standby mode by turning the fiddle switch to the Moderate setting. This will cause the machine to “wheel-spin” until it cools satisfactorily. Failure to place the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine into this mode if overheated can cause the sensitive gibber line to vaporize, resulting at a ten x thousand foot-pound force explosion. This, naturally, voids the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine’s warranty, as well as any operator within three hundred feet of the device.

• Before final activation of the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine, the operator must completely fill out the attached Waiver of Responsibility (WoR), absolving Write Way of any damages – real, emotional, or imaginary – that the operator may experience during the operation of the machine. Failure to do so will result in the gibber line to vaporize, resulting at a ten x thousand foot- pound force explosion.

If you have followed these instructions carefully, you are now ready to use the Write Way Automatic Introduction Writing Machine and produce profitable and possibly entertaining columns for years to come. If however the machine fails to operate, place it back in its ecologically protective shipping container and return it to an authorized service center or convenient landfill.

If you are in need of an introduction in the meantime, we suggest that you simply retype this manual – god knows, manuals are just like introductions: no one reads them anyway.

A Nice Little Cybersex Pic

Amos Lassen Likes The Bachelor Machine

This is very special: my wonderfully sweet friend Amos Lassen just posted this very nice review of my science fiction erotica collection, The Bachelor Machine. Thanks so much, Amos!

 

Let me start off by saying that I am a huge fan of M. Christian and when he has a new book come out, I am on it immediately. Christian writes good erotica, something that is not easy to do. Anyway can tell a dirty story but not everyone  can put a story into prose and it is here that Christian excels (and that is true of all of his books—if you have not read him, you must). His casts of characters include a little something for everyone and he writes to us and pulls us into his sexual fantasies.

Finally this book is available to all of us and it contains eighteen very hot stories all pulled from the mind of M. Christian, a man who, in my mind, is a master storyteller. When originally published, Cecilia Tan wrote an introduction to the stories and that is reproduced here along with a new forward by Kit O’ Connell and a chat between Tan and Christian on how science fiction and erotica come together.

When I tell you that these stories are hot, I might be giving you an understatement. M. Christian’s erotica comes from the heart and I would love to spend an afternoon at a coffeehouse with him listening to how he comes up with the stories he writes. He manages to give us literary erotica or as I usually call it, literary smut but it is a notch above a lot of what I have read.

In this collection there is a lot of sex but the stories themselves are not about the act of sex but rather what sex means. Christian writes about humanity and being human and the sex is, like we said in Louisiana, lagniappe.  Christian is one of a kind and he again proves that here. By using satire and irony and combining that with science fiction and erotica, it is almost to say that he has created an entire new genre. His literary voice and style are uniquely his and every story here works. We go to places we have never dreamt of and Christian is our able and talented guide.

I have not singled out any of the stories for to do so would be to ruin a unique reading experience and I want all of you to find what I have found in reading M. Christian.

Can't Say It Better

War Is -

"War is God's way of teaching Americans geography."
~ Ambrose Bierce

Picasso on Inspiration

“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

- Pablo Picasso

Teasing/Tempting Taste Of Finger's Breadth

Here's a pre-pre-pre-pre release teasing/tempting taste of my brand new novel, Finger's Breadth, coming soon from Zumaya Books ... stay tuned.

Here's a (work in progress) blurb about it:

Look at your [WORD REMOVED]: four fingers and a thumb, right?  But what if you woke one morning and rather than four fingers and a thumb you were ... short [WORD REMOVED]?  How would you [WORD REMOVED]?  What would you do?  What would you become?

The city is terrified: a mysterious [WORD REMOVED] is haunting the streets of near-future San Francisco, drugging and amputating the fingertips of queer men.  But what's more frightening than this [WORD REMOVED] is how it transforms the [WORD REMOVED] of the city.  For what's worse, a horror or that it can, so easily, turn any of [WORD REMOVED] into something even more terrifying? 

Erotic.  Terrifying.  Fascinating. [WORD REMOVED].  Disturbing.  Intriguing.  Haunting.  You have never read a [WORD REMOVED] like Finger's Breadth.  You will never look your [WORD REMOVED], or the people all around you, the same way again.