Masquerade: Page 10

Here's another preview of a very special project: Masquerade was illustrated by my great pal, and a fantastic artist, Wynn Ryder, from a story by ... well, me ... for an upcoming graphic novel anthology called Legendary.

I'll be putting up more pages from the final over the next few months ... or you can read the entire thing on Wynn's Deviantart pages.

Padded Kinky!

If you're like me and (ahem) appreciate a kinky BBW, then check out the newly-opened Paddedkink.com by the one-and-only Kelly Shibari - and featuring stories by yours truly and my pal Ralph Greco Jr.

And, yes, it's a pay site (pornographers gotta eat, ya know)

Dark Roasted M.Christian

Here's a brand new Dark Roasted Blend piece on the mysterious Chinese pyramids:


Egyptian pyramids? Sure, everyone knows about the ones at Giza - and a few aficionados might know about the 138 others scattered around them. Mesoamerican pyramids? Okay, a lot of folks know about them, too -- or even that the great one at Cholula is considered to be the largest one in the world.

But, unfortunately, not many people know that pyramids have come in other flavors as well, including the mysterious and legendary ones in China.

“Legendary” because the story of the Chinese pyramids initially reads like something from a wild and woolly dime-store pulp serial: JAMES GAUSSMAN AND THE JEWELED PYRAMID OF CHINA!

It all began in 1945 – well, actually it started way before that, but for most folks out here in the West, that’s when they first heard that pyramids might exist outside Mesoamerica and Egypt.

While winging his way from India to China, the aforementioned U.S. Army Air Corps pilot Gaussman supposedly saw ... well, a jewel topped pyramid. Depending on who you talk to or what books you read, either his was the first sighting of this remarkable artifact or it was just part of a surge of woolly dime-store pulp serial mythologizing. Even if Gaussman wasn’t the first to spot the pyramids, it’s still interesting that many photographs of them were supposedly locked away in military files for decades.


Making the subject even more murky was Hartwig Hausdorf's book on the subject, which fueled fires of outrageous speculation – aliens, anyone? – but didn’t give a lot of accurate or verifiable info.

Despite Gaussman’s sighting (and Hausdorf's book), the pyramids definitely deserve at least the same recognition and respect their Central American and Middle Eastern cousins have received. Also like the pyramids in Giza, many of them are truly immense: the one at Mount Li, for example, is an impressive 250 feet tall; and the Great White one is a close runner-up.

Also like their kin in the Middle East, the pyramids in China were burial chambers and mausoleums, monstrous headstones for royalty and various courtly hangers-on: Mount Li was built for the legendary Qin Shi Huang and the Great White was constructed for Emperor Wudi.

But what makes the Chinese pyramids so interesting for many people – serious archeologists as well as passionate amateurs – is what isn’t known about them. Although we know they were crypts for Emperors and Kings, their construction details are a mystery. What makes them even more elusive is that while many of them are obvious and impressive, there are others you could walk right by – and many people have for centuries -- without realizing they were
anything but just slightly angular rises or low hills. The current guestimate is that there are around 38 pyramids, but both the serious professionals as well as the dedicated hobbyists believe that number is just a fraction of how many actual structures there are scattered throughout China.


But this knowledge just raises bigger, and more bewildering questions. Naturally, people know about the ones in Egypt, the legendary structures at Giza. Absolutely, a lot of folks have heard about the huge structures scattered throughout Central America, including the gigantic one at Cholula … but only until relatively recently had any of us Westerners heard that there were pyramids in China – and maybe a century or so before that, even many Chinese didn’t know what was dotting their landscapes.

See that hill? See that mountain? See that slightly angular rise? I wonder what’s under them? I wonder what other secrets are out there, laying just under the surface … or under our feet?

Nobilis Reads Dead Letter

This is wonderful: the great Nobilis reads my story, "Dead Letter", from my new collection, Licks & Promises, as part of his excellent podcast series.

A Guest Post

This is very nice: Lisabet Sarai asked me to guest post on her blog, Beyond Romance. So I took the opportunity to write a little something about the Coming Together project she and Alessia Brio are putting together and that they were very sweet to ask me to become a part of. Here's a taste, for the rest just click here to go to Lisabet's site.

Before I get started with this post I have to throw out not one but two very sincere 'thanks' -- to the same person.

Lisabet gets the first because she was so nice to ask me to writes something for this blog, and she gets the second because she's been fantastic to work with on a very special project -- which brings me to the subject of this post.

Alessia Brio and Lisabet have been working on Coming Together, a series of books by a wide range of writers, where the profits are going to be donated to charity. Alessia and Lisabet asked me to join in -- always a way to get me to do anything -- so I, with Lisabet's invaluable help, have put together a collection of brand new and never-before-seen as well as some of my (I say this with tongue firmly in cheek) "classic" short stories.

For my charity -- well, my charity is the reason for this post.

[MORE]

Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug From Licks & Promises

Here's a fun little story from one of my new collections, Licks & Promises. Well, I hope it's fun for you - but it might make you tear up a bit as well. It made me sniffle - and I wrote it!

Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug
By
M. Christian

We had played other games, this circle and I. Games of sex, pain, pleasure and everything betwixt, between, and off to the side.

Preface: San Francisco in a place called a dungeon to some, basement to others. It was just a typical Saturday night if you travel in the right circles. Yeah, you could call them gays, lesbians, straights, dykes, fags, hets, twisted fuckers -- whatever. They were just friends. And this was just a party.

The game was Kiss and Truth. Before we started, a hat was passed and we all dropped slips of paper into it. “Something very unique or very special about you” was what we were told to write. We did, diligently scrawling them on the black leather furniture and on the nearest convenient black leather friend.

“If you hear me say what you wrote, and then you get kissed -- or kiss, sing out,” the leader of this said, a large, lovely woman in a white dress, chiming finger symbols for our attention.

The lights were put out, except for one on in the corner where she sat with her black leather beret on her head. The room was soft felt: a warm, comfortable, intimate kind of darkness. I’d done so much in that room -- traveled through pain to sex to pleasure to laughter and back again that I knew it like I knew my own fingers. I knew everyone else there just about as well -- maybe as well as my toes.

“I have a twelve year old son named Josh.”

Our mustaches met, bristly forests itching together. Faintly hiding silken lips, heated tongues, flashing whiteness of teeth, I kissed the man named Jack. From across the room a voice (female? male? Could have been both, or one, together. Many in the room were part way between the two) sang out, and giggled. “Here!”

“I’m pregnant.”

She was short, with breasts heavy and firm. Hair a mad burst of curls. Her feet chimed with tiny bells. Lips thin and hard, with a faint fuzz of hair. Mouth a furnace of heat, like she burned somewhere down deep and her tongue was a flaming anaconda, wrapping and constricting around my own. “Over here!” a light, sparking voice said from close by.

The room was bursting with laugher, with little clicking whirls of giggles and the silent light of smiles. “I had a bad day at work.”

I don’t consider Jay really between he and she so it’s hard to say it Jay was on the way to boy or girl. Jay was Jay, unique and himself: rail thin, face a perfect blend of hard and soft, full and not, Jay’s lips are strong (like both) and so soft (like both). We kissed hot, and long, even after half the room chorused with “Yes” “Right here” “Damned straight”. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter.

“I got a new tattoo.”

A mountain of mad fun. I didn’t know his name, but there was always a smile on his lovely lips. Ever since I’d seen him, smiling like a San Francisco Gay Leather Buddha, I’d wanted to plant one on his gorgeous face. It was a worshipful act, a divine act. Maybe not sex heat in it, but love all the same. He was next to me so I turned and looked him in the eyes -- matching intent with intent. His lips were spiced, a lingering bite of cinnamon and ginger from the cookies laid out upstairs. He didn’t offer me anything more than his velvet lips and I didn’t reach in to take more. This was a devout kiss, a spiritual kiss. My body remained limp meat, my mind soared at the sparks he brought into me. “Here!” someone sang very close, and all stopped for a few beats while she lifted her dress to show the serpent that ran, red and puffy from the recent needles, up her ankle to tickle her crotch with a brilliantly forked tongue.

“I got a new ring.”

When we’d made love at the last party I had almost been consumed by her. Ignited, our kisses had turned our tongues into tongues of flames. Sexual? Damned straight, but Dorothy’s hunger was almost scary, almost scalding. Our kisses seemed to last from foreplay, into sex, and into a still-warm after glow. Never did oral sex with my lover, Dorothy; couldn’t take our lips apart long enough to try.

Black like soot, not the kind of polished black some have. Her was a skin that looked like night rolled into breasts, belly, back and smile. Her lips -- how can I describe her lips enough? I can’t. You have to come all the way out to San Francisco and taste them. Words ... just ... will ... not .. work.

We kissed through the call of “Over here”: the young, slender reed of a man baring his chest to show his new nipple ring. We would have kissed even longer save for Dorothy’s insistence that we play “this game” a little more, first.

“I’m HIV positive.”

I knew Jerry. Knew him well. Friend, pal, something else -- very special. He mirrored me: long and lean, tapered and elegant. While mine was black, though, his was dirty blond. Look at pieces of Jerry and you would think him just another punk -- but I knew him from long nights of bad movies, tears (both of us) and many, many smiles.

Jerry’s lips were slightly scabbed from cruising downtown on his board, of biting them when he was nervous. His tongue was hard and strong, a vibrant touch that shivered me down to my bare toes.

“I am,” Jerry said, and I kissed him long and hard again.

The game lasted for a while more, before dropping away with the few remaining clothes. The toys game out: leather, latex, condoms, Saran Wrap ... the tools of our friendships. We played and kissed many times thereafter.

I could only wish that Jerry could have kissed me much, much longer.

Masquerade: Page 9

Here's another preview of a very special project: Masquerade was illustrated by my great pal, and a fantastic artist, Wynn Ryder, from a story by ... well, me ... for an upcoming graphic novel anthology called Legendary.

I'll be putting up more pages from the final over the next few months ... or you can read the entire thing on Wynn's Deviantart pages.

Pauline Likes Rites Of Spring, Chapter 2

I can't say it enough: I am very lucky to have some truly fantastic friends - and one of the most-fantastic is Pauline. Just check out this review she sent me for Chapter 2 of my "weird science fiction, bawdy adventure, sideways humor, and delightful strange" project, The Rites of Spring:

In this strange new world, Gazelle runs. Every beat is torture on her aching body. She is proud, she is the Messenger; stopping, pausing to catch her breath, never occurs to her. Her vocation as Messenger, dictates her raison d’etre. It is what she was born to do. Simple as that.

M.Christian opens chapter two of his serialized novel, THE RITES OF SPRING, with the pounding beat of Gazelle’s feet on the hard, unforgiving concrete. The vista of The City opens up before her, spell binding her, mingling with the endorphins racing through her blood; a rushing anaesthetic for her suffering body.

The Elders have whispered tales of the old City, around night time campfires. The mysteries, the mythologies, all the old stories mingle in Gazelle’s consciousness as the City opens up beneath the glaring sun. The City is haunting and holy; so is Gazelle’s run. The City is an infrastructure of totems, just as Gazelle herself is.

And then a shock. The scent of testosterone; the scent of man. Another totem. For the first time Gazelle is distracted from the world of the City. She wants to stop, seeing first one man, then another; then thousands. The men are wild, wanting her; Gazelle wants them too. But she doesn’t falter. The rhythm of her run doesn’t change, but Christian changes the pace into a frenetic frenzy. Gazelle’s imagination tips on the edge of insanity as she craves the naked, erect cocks in her every orifice.

M.Christian’s use of words, his instinctive use of language is a delight. I’ve used the words, ‘lyrical’ and ‘panache’ to describe his stories before. But I can’t think of better words to convey to a reader, what a breathtaking experience it is to read the perfection of a master storyteller. I want to know more about this strange city, that is at once, so familiar and yet so alien. And as with all the very best serializations, I want to know, what happens next in THE RITES OF SPRING?

OUT NOW: The Rites of Spring - Chapter 2

Here we go again, folks: What do you get when you cross weird science fiction, bawdy adventure, sideways humor, and delightful strangeness?

Frankly, I haven't the faintest idea, but if you want to see what might be might be pretty damned close, check out the second chapter of my serial story, The Rites of Spring - which was just published

So, if you like your science fiction weird, your adventure stories bawdy, your humor tilted, and your strangeness delightful then head on over to the great Paper Bag Press site and download the second chapter of my fun new project - or, if you want to pick up the story from the beginning, check out the first chapter.

And, naturally, if you want to write a review of either chapters drop me a line and I'll send you over a copy.

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.

Brushes ... In Paris!

I'm very jazzed that a chapter from my erotic romance novel, Brushes, was just picked up by Maxim Jakubowksi for the Paris edition of his "sex in cities" anthology series. Thanks, Maxim!

Dark Roasted M.Christian

Here's a brand new Dark Roasted Blend piece on the art of science and the science of art:

It reads contradictory, conflicted: the art of science/science of art – the mixture of the logical and methodical with the imaginative and emotional.

But science and art – or, if you’d prefer, art and science – have held hands, if not close friends, for a very long time. Greek and Roman artists followed often strict guidelines considering the correct mathematical proportions of the figures in their frescoes and sculptures, Japanese woodblocks were as much about mechanical precision as they were about the subject being printed, the Renaissance was all about using science to bring a literal new dimension to painting, and then you have the work of Leopold and Rudolf Blaschka.

No, you haven’t heard of Leopold or Rudolf Blaschka – but you certainly should have. Unlike the Greeks and and Romans, the Japanese Ukiyo-e artists, Michangelo and Leonardo, Leopold and Rudolf Blaschka aren’t well known outside of either esoteric or scientific circles.

Which is what makes them so remarkable: they mixed the staggering beauty of pure art with a precision and dedication worthy of great scientists.

Leopold and Rudolf were glass artisans – possibly some of the greatest, ever. But what they created weren’t just glass and goblets, lampshades and windows. Nope, Leopold and Rudolf created nature.


Simplified, here’s the story: Professor George Lincoln Goodale, of Harvard, wanted to teach botany. But the problem with teaching botany is that plants have a tendency to … well, die. Sure, you could preserve some specimens but lots of species just don’t look the same after being dried – the plant version of stuffed and mounted. Yes, you could try using paintings or even photography but plants are – and here’s a surprise -- three dimensional. So what Professor Goodale did was ask the Blaschkas to create glass plants to help him teach his students about real ones.

But the Blaschkas did more than just recreate plants: they created astounding works of not only scientific accuracy but pure, brilliant, art. Looking at even the simplest of their efforts is deceptive – a sign of their genius. Their reproductions don't resemble the original plants – they look EXACTLY like them, created by hand, in fickle and fragile glass. All from 1887 to 1936.

What’s even more impressive is how many they created: more than 3,000 models of some 850 species – many of which can be seen on display at Harvard while many others are being painstakingly restored.

But the Blaschkas didn’t stop at plants. Not to take anything away from their artistry, but plants are relatively simple subjects. In some cases the Blaschkas could even work from live, or recently plucked, models. But there are much more difficult subjects out there, creatures so rare and fragile that very few men have ever seen them in their delicate flesh – even more frail than the glass the Blaschkas used to recreate them.


When these reproductions were made, in the late 19th century, only a few marine explorers and a few lucky seaman had seen any of them. Octopi, urchins, sea cucumbers, anemones, jellyfish, cuttlefish – they were too rare, too fragile, to be seen outside of the sea. That is until the Blaschkas.

I wish there was some way to request a moment of silence. I wish there was some way to ask you to stop reading this and look at the pictures here and at other places of the web. I wish there was some way for you to have a nice glass of wine, put on some nice music – maybe Bach, who also mixed science and art – and just admire the care, the craft, and the pure art the Blaschkas created.


The Blaschka brothers left an inspirational legacy. Josiah McElheny – the recipient of a MacArthur Genius Grant – is a kindred spirit to the Blaschkas, another mind-blowing artist who works in the whimsical and temperamental world of glass … and the disciplined domain of science.

McElheny’s works -- like that of the Blaschka brothers -- finds inspiration in the universe around us, particularly with one sculpture that depicts a key moment. In many ways this is a perfect place to stop: the Blaschka brothers created perfect artistic reproductions of nature to teach science, and McElheny created a sculptural interpretation of the ultimate act of creation, as discovered by science: the Big Bang.

The art of science, the science of art … in the end they are both looking for the same thing: a way to show the nature of everything.

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.

Masquerade: Page 8

Here's another preview of a very special project: Masquerade was illustrated by my great pal, and a fantastic artist, Wynn Ryder, from a story by ... well, me ... for an upcoming graphic novel anthology called Legendary.

I'll be putting up more pages from the final over the next few months ... or you can read the entire thing on Wynn's Deviantart pages.

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!

What People Are Saying About -

- my collection of science fiction stories, Love Without Gun Control. Alas, I couldn't use all these wonderful blurbs for the book but I also couldn't just let them just stay in a drawer. Thanks, guys!

M. Christian is responsible for making me blush on the train: If there were ever a Nobel Peace prize for overcoming prudish sexual mores through acceptance, understanding, and racy literature, it would be won by M. Christian.
-- Brian Wanamaker: an arguably bilingual game developer who has made Osaka, Japan his home for the last 8 years. Like Snake Plissken, he has escaped from Los Angeles.

Fantasist, futurist, eroticist, satirist, humorist, dentist drilling deep into the nerves of the here and now ... M. Christian wears a lot of hats in this multifaceted collection, and they're all a splendid fit.
— Brian Hodge, author of Mad Dogs and Lies & Ugliness

M. Christian's stories are both personal and visionary. He not only explores the outer boundaries of his imaginary worlds, but dives deeply into the lives and minds of the characters who live there.
-- Kit O'Connell is a writer, poet, and critic from Central Texas. He is a member of the Society of Voluptuaries and a founder of the Continuous Coast Project.

M. Christian is a chimera, an amazing combination of tour guide and magician. Whether he's writing science fiction, horror or erotica, he can take you to places you've never imagined, show you sights no-one else will get to see, introduce you to some fascinating people, and guarantee that the trip will be memorable from start to finish. Buy a ticket and fasten your seat belt: you're in for a wild ride!
-- Stephen Dedman is the author of The Art of Arrow Cutting, and Shadows Bite

M. Christian always writes like dream whether he's creating fantastic visions or ghastly nightmares. With this collection, you get both!
-- Paula Guran, DarkEcho

To enter into the twisted world of M. Christian is akin to entering into a nightmare realm from which you'll never awaken. As long as you keep turning the pages, the nightmare continues. Amazingly, you keep turning the pages...
-- Rick R. Reed, author of IM and Orientation

M. Christian's imagination and writing talent never cease to amaze me. Both are limitless and his stories can be addictive.
-- Cecilia Tan, author of Mind Games, White Flames, and The Velderet

M. Christian offers something in his writing that has become rare these days: art. His craft is elegant, captivating the reader's mind and then molding it like clay into whatever he desires. He plays rough at times, but it hurts so good.
-- Jerrod Balzer, author of Fear The Woods, contributor to I Was A Sasquatch Love Slave

Rude Mechanicals - The Commercial!

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

Sex In San Francisco (Update)

Just a little update (and an apology) about the anthology, Sex In San Francisco: I know I've been promising to read the submissions soon but (here's the apology) personal things keep getting in the way.

I really do plan on finishing the final selection within the next month or so. I ask all those patient folks who sent me stories to just hang on a little longer. Thanks!

Holy Moses! Have a look!

One of my heroes ...

Wiki:

Amanda McKittrick Ros (8 December 1860–2 February 1939) was a novelist born in Drumaness, County Down in Ireland. She published her first novel Irene Iddesleigh at her own expense in 1897. She wrote poetry and a number of novels. Her works were not read widely, and her eccentric, over-written, circumlocutory writing style is alleged by some critics to be some of the worst prose and poetry ever written.

Amanda McKittrick was born in Drumaness, County Down on 8 December 1860, the fourth child of Eliza Black and Edward Amlave McKittrick, Principal of Drumaness High School. She was christened Anna Margaret at Third Ballynahinch Presbyterian Church on 27 January 1861. In the 1880s she attended Marlborough Teacher Training College in Dublin, was appointed Monitor at Millbrook National School, Larne, County Antrim, finished her training at Marlborough and then became a qualified teacher at the same school.

It was during her first visit to Larne that she met Andrew Ross, a widower of 35, who was Station Master there. She married him at Joymount Presbyterian Church, Carrickfergus, County Antrim on 30 August 1887. She died after a fall in her home in 1939.

Ros was strongly influenced by the novelist Marie Corelli. She wrote: "My chief object of writing is and always has been, to write if possible in a strain all my own. This I find is why my writings are so much sought after." Her admirers included Mark Twain, Lord Beveridge, and Aldous Huxley. Her novel Irene Iddesleigh was published in 1897. It was reviewed by humorist Barry Pain who sarcastically termed it "the book of the century." Ros retorted in her preface to Delina Delaney by branding Pain a "clay crab of corruption," and suggesting that he was so hostile only because he was secretly in love with her. But Ros claimed to have made enough money from her second novel, Delina Delaney, to build a house, which she named Iddesleigh.

Belfast Public Libraries has a large collection of manuscripts, typescripts and first editions of her work. Manuscript copies include Irene Iddesleigh, Sir Benjamin Bunn and Six Months in Hell. Typescript versions of all the above are held together with Rector Rose, St. Scandal Bags and The Murdered Heiress among others. The collection of first editions covers all her major works including volumes of her poetry Fumes of Formation and Poems of Puncture, together with lesser known pieces such as Kaiser Bill and Donald Dudley: The Bastard Critic. The collection includes hundreds of letters addressed to Ros, many with her own comments in the margins. Also included are typed copies of her letters to newspapers, correspondence with her admiring publisher T.S. Mercer, an album of newspaper cuttings and photographs, and a script for a BBC broadcast from July 1943.

Nick Page, author of In Search of the World's Worst Writers, rated Ros the worst of the worst. He says that "For Amanda, eyes are 'piercing orbs', legs are 'bony supports', people do not blush, they are 'touched by the hot hand of bewilderment.'"

Aldous Huxley wrote that "In Mrs. Ros we see, as we see in the Elizabethan novelists, the result of the discovery of art by an unsophisticated mind and of its first conscious attempt to produce the artistic. It is remarkable how late in the history of every literature simplicity is invented." This is how she tells us that Delina earned money by doing needlework:

She tried hard to keep herself a stranger to her poor old father's slight income by the use of the finest production of steel, whose blunt edge eyed the reely covering with marked greed, and offered its sharp dart to faultless fabrics of flaxen fineness.

Her novel Delina Delaney begins:

Have you ever visited that portion of Erin's plot that offers its sympathetic soil for the minute survey and scrutinous examination of those in political power, whose decision has wisely been the means before now of converting the stern and prejudiced, and reaching the hand of slight aid to share its strength in augmenting its agricultural richness?

Page comments: "I first read this sentence nearly three years ago. Since then, I have read it once a week in an increasingly desperate search for meaning. But I still don't understand it."

The Oxford literary group the Inklings, which included such luminaries as C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, held competitions to see who could read Ros' work for the longest length of time while keeping a straight face.

Northrop Frye said of Ros's novels that they use "rhetorical material without being able to absorb or assimilate it: the result is pathological, a kind of literary diabetes".

A poet as well as a novelist, Ros wrote Poems of Puncture and Fumes of Formation. The latter contains "Visiting Westminster Abbey," which opens:

Holy Moses! Have a look!

Flesh decayed in every nook!

Some rare bits of brain lie here,

Mortal loads of beef and beer,

Some of whom are turned to dust,

Every one bids lost to lust;

Royal flesh so tinged with 'blue'

Undergoes the same as you.

As of 2004, none of her works are in print. Her books are rare and first editions command prices of $300 to $800 in the used-book market. Belfast Central Library has an archive of her papers, and the Queen's University of Belfast has some volumes by Ros in the stacks.

The Frank Ferguson-edited collection, Ulster-Scots Writing: An Anthology (Four Courts, 2008) includes her poem, 'The Town of Tare'.

On 11 November 2006 as part of a 50 Year celebration, renowned librarian Elspeth Legg hosted a major retrospective of her works, culminating in a public reading by 65 delegates of the entire contents of 'Fumes of Formation'. The theme of the workshop that followed was 'Suppose you chance to write a book', Line 17 of 'Myself' from page 2 of Fumes of Formation.

Dark Roasted M.Christian

Here's a brand new Dark Roasted Blend piece on huge musical instruments: magnificent pipe organs


The jokes pretty much write themselves: ‘organ,’ ‘blowing pipes,’ ‘wind,’ etc., etc., so on, so forth …. But the giggling stops when you start to investigate the history, science, and simple magnificence that has gone into the creation of some of the world’s most incredible pipe organs.

As with a lot of important technological – as well as artistic – achievements, trying to determine who made the first one of these things is a bit fuzzy. Some experts give the ancient Greeks most of the credit – specifically the genius Ctesibius of Alexandria. Those early Greek organs were simplistic compared to the height of organ science … stop giggling … but the basic principle is still the same: force air through a pipe and you get sound. Make the pipe smaller, tighter, and the note that comes out is higher. Make the pipe larger, wider, and the note that comes out is lower.

What’s interesting is that portable organs were not just created but common in certain parts of Europe during the Middle Ages. They were probably about as mechanically simple as Ctesibius’s early invention, but it’s still remarkable that the technology was there and transportable by horse and wagon.

But when you want to talk about big organs … I asked you to stop giggling … you have to talk about the permanently installed ones.

As with astronomical clocks, large organs quickly became the blockbusters of their time. If yours was a town of any notoriety then you pretty much had to have one – the bigger the better. The fact that they were used by churches, like the aforementioned fancy clocks, couldn’t hurt either, as they had the deep pockets to afford them.

Here’s another bunch of interesting organ facts … what are you? 12? … the organ created for Halberstadt, Germany was a monster for its time. Its bellows had to be worked ceaselessly by ten men – who were, no doubt, music fans. The technology is impressive today, and was simply astounding when it was created in (ready for this?) 1361.


Because the technology of a pipe organ is relatively simple, making them bigger was pretty much a matter of just scaling them up: bigger pipes, bigger air supplies, etc. While there were a lot of monster organs … now you’re just embarrassing yourselves … there are some that took the musical instrument from noteworthy to astounding.

One of the largest is still played today: created in 1911, the Kotzschmar Memorial Organ in Portland, Maine, is a beautiful piece of engineering as well as musical artistry. Although much of its technology is hidden – which is often the case with organs – what is visible is simultaneously elegant and powerful, which also perfectly defines the music of its haunting notes.

Another great organ … are you finished? … can also still be heard. Created in 1904 for the St Louis World’s Fair, the Wanamaker Grand Court Organ in Philadelphia is a monster among monsters. Everything about the instrument looks like it was designed not just to make sound but a LOT of VERY BIG sounds: it has not one, not two … but, to get to the point, 28,482 pipes set in 461 rows. Its keyboard looks more like something used to launch a space shuttle rather than create music. But the organ definitely creates music – on a scale commensurate with its standing as the second largest pipe organ in the world.

Okay, get your giggles, guffaws and chortles out of the way. You ready to hear about the world’s largest organ? Unfortunately – as with a lot of big organ claims -- you’re likely to be disappointed.

Next time you’re in Atlantic City, swing on by and check it out in the Boardwalk Hall. Built in 1932, the organ makes that beast in Philadelphia look like a sickly kitten. While the Wannamaker Organ boasts those 28,482 pipes, the Boardwalk Hall organ has – ready for this? – about 33,000 pipes. I say ‘about’ because even the owner/operators of the machine aren’t sure. Even the engineering for the organ looks like something that might have been built to power the Muzak in the Tower of Babylon elevators.

The Boardwalk organ holds a total of three Guinness World Records: largest pipe organ in the world, largest musical instrument, and – it must have been a literal blast to have been there when this was set – the loudest musical instrument ever constructed. When asked how he felt about winning this last award, the keyboardist was heard, barely, to answer “what?”


Alas, the organ remains … you were waiting for me to make another joke, weren’t you? Well, I would if we weren’t talking about such a legendary musical instrument. The Boardwalk organ, alas, is largely silent: having been damaged by weather, water, budget cuts, and poor attempts at repair, it can still be heard but at only a fraction of its true potential and power.

And there’s nothing funny about an organ that isn't operating at full capacity.

I Am Spotframe

Even though I'm a diehard Apple fan, I have to admit I'm thoroughly enjoying my xbox 360. If there are any other gamers out there, look me up. My handle is Spotframe (don't ask me why, it was the name they assigned me).

Right now I'm into GTA4 multiplayer. Join in if you have the game ... but be warned: I'm a "bad ass mofo."

More Sexy Yet Spooky Fun

Keeping with the season - and nicely dovetailing with my article that just appeared in Forum UK - the great folks at Phaze Books just released a pair of my stories, "Begging Ivory" and "Thicker Than Ink" as part of their HeatSheet erotic horror line. Click here to order this mini-collection, and here's a quickie description of the stories:

From an acclaimed author of erotic fiction comes two tales of titillating suspense. Begging Ivory: An antique object not only brings pleasure to it new owner, but assists in freeing her from an abusive relationship. Thicker Than Ink: Some tattoos are beautiful, others intricate and ornate. Still others provoke a variety of emotions - arousal, ecstasy, even a desire for revenge.

A Sexy Yet Spooky Article In Forum UK

If my fans in the UK run out to their nearest newsagent they can pick up the newest, October, issue of Forum UK (Vol. 43, No. 11) and find an essay by yours truly on sex and fear called BOO! Why A Good Scare Can Be Great For Your Sex Life.

Here's a teaser:

You can't run. You can't hide. No matter how hard you try, it creeps up on you, tenses, pounces, and then traps you in an terrifyingly inescapable truth: a good fright –a really nightmarishly fine bout of terror – can really put the libido into overdrive.

There are as many theories about why scares and sex go hand-in-bloody-hand as there are movies featuring unstoppable forces of demonic fury. In other words, a lot. In fact one popular idea about why we have such a strong connection between the two is because for many folks, the first time they are introduced to anything really sexual, it’s thanks to a horror flick. Or, to put it in UK terms, because they'd watched a video nasty.

And no wonder it's a popular idea: From Jason to Freddy to Michael (that silly fisherman guy in the pathetic I Know What You Did Series), the formula is the same: boy meets girl, girl gives boy head, boy (and then girl) loses head. For lots of teens, these kinds of films are the first time they'll see anything really sexual, even if it's just the first sight of bare boobs. You don't have to have a degree in psychology to figure out that if the next scene has those same jiggling tits sprayed with arterial blood there might be a connection between getting rabidly turned on and getting totally freaked out. Add to this that, for a lot of people, a horror film was the first chance to get really close to the opposite sex, even if the embrace was one of terror. Think of it this way: no one ever got lucky after a Disney matinee.

[For the rest yer gonna have to buy the mag]

Masquerade: Page 7

Here's another preview of a very special project: Masquerade was illustrated by my great pal, and a fantastic artist, Wynn Ryder, from a story by ... well, me ... for an upcoming graphic novel anthology called Legendary.

I'll be putting up more pages from the final over the next few months ... or you can read the entire thing on Wynn's Deviantart pages.

Redux: Eros Ex Machina

Now and again, I'm going to post little bits on some of the fun projects I've done ove the years. Just a little trip down memory lane. Hope you enjoy!

Eros Ex Machina: Eroticising The Mechanical (anthology)

Rhinoceros Publications (March 1, 1998)

As the millennium approaches, technology is not only an inevitable, but a deeply desirable addition to daily life. Eros Ex Machina: Eroticising the Mechanical explores the thrill of machines our literal and literary love of technology. Join over 25 of today's hottest writers as they explore erotic relationships with all kinds of gizmos, gadgets, and devices. Featuring stories by: Kim Addonizio. Bill Brent, Pamela Briggs, Pat Califia, Rene Charles, M. Christian, Stephen Dedman, Jack Dickson, Janice Eidus, Amelia G, Paula Guran, Gerard Houarner, Maxim Jakubowksi, Kevin Killian, Nancy Kilpatrick, Marc Laidlaw, Marc Levinthal, Anita Mashman, Carol Queen, Stephen Mark Rainey, Shar Rednour, Mike Resnick, Thomas Roche, Chadwick Saxelid, D. Travers Scott, Simon Sheppard, John Shirley, Cecilia Tan, and Lucy Taylor.

Sage Vivant's Intro To Licks & Promises

Here's a special treat: Sage Vivant's intro to my new collection of erotica, Licks & Promises (from Phaze Books). It's no secret that I adore Sage, but this intro touched me tremendously.

WARNING: The stories in this book may make you cry. There. I’ve said it. I know that’s not the best way to introduce an erotica story collection, but I can rarely read an M. Christian story without some kind of visceral reaction. So, I just wanted you to know up front that if you can get through this book without developing a lump in your throat or wiping tears from your cheeks, I honestly have to question your humanity.

Christian knows that sex is not purely about bodies, desire, and sex toys. He goes deeper, much deeper, dispensing with the puerile, predictable situations so common in erotic literature these days. He entreats his readers not to settle for the obvious clichés and the usual storylines where two (or more) people end up with their clothes off. Instead, he forces readers to consider the behaviors and thought processes that got those people naked in the first place — because that’s what the story is really about. The trembling, sweating, engorged body parts are just a bonus.

In the process of taking you on an emotional journey, however, Christian leaves you plenty hot and bothered. The man seems to instinctively know the perfect spot in his narrative for a well-placed nipple. He recognizes when a wet pussy needs filled and when it’s better to have it ache. He sends your libido careening on a roller-coaster ride that he alone controls. You’ve never been so grateful to be in such skilled hands, even as the landscape blurs by at lightning speed.

Along with intelligence and maturity, empathy abounds in these stories. Even when the characters make mistakes, stumble through circumstances, and generally screw up, Christian manages to show us their vulnerable side. He is not content to point out only how nasty or foolish people can be — he wants us to understand their motivations, learn what it feels like to trust or have trust revoked. He will show us where someone hurts and how sex healed the hurt. Or caused it.

In Christian’s world, lust is the springboard to passion, not a synonym for it.

The richness of language, the complexity of emotions, and the mysterious role of sex characterize M. Christian’s remarkable erotica. They celebrate life and castigate it at the same time. They explore disappointment and erupt with joy when you least expect it.

I defy you to get through this volume without shedding an appreciative tear, even if you’re touching yourself as you do it.

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

Ashley Lister Likes Licks & Promises

This is very great: Ashley Lister's review of Licks & Promises, from the always-great Erotica Readers & Writers site:

It’s not an understatement to say that M Christian has a well-deserved reputation for excellence. He is the author of more than 300 short stories, the editor of 20 anthologies, four collections of his own short fiction and the author of four (or five) novels. (There is, as yet, no official confirmation as to whether he is the M Christian behind ME2). M Christian’s Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker column is one of the most popular parts of ERWA and this is probably because he speaks with authority about erotica as an author who knows his craft.

However, for anyone needing proof that Christian knows what he’s talking about, they need look no further than Licks & Promises. Licks & Promises is a collection of Christian’s scintillating erotic stories, published by Phaze books, and the contents will not leave the reader dissatisfied.

Sage Vivant provides an Introduction to this collection, relating her appreciation of Christian’s work and acknowledging the breadth of his skill. As Vivant explains:

Christian knows that sex is not purely about bodies, desire, and sex toys. He goes deeper, much deeper, dispensing with the puerile, predictable situations so common in erotic literature these days. He entreats his readers not to settle for the obvious clichés and the usual storylines where two (or more) people end up with their clothes off. Instead, he forces readers to consider the behaviors and thought processes that got those people naked in the first place — because that’s what the story is really about. The trembling, sweating, engorged body parts are just a bonus.

My favourite story in this collection comes early in the book. ‘Dead Letter’ is a tale about an author, which is probably why I enjoyed it so much. Filled with humour, irony and a richness of character, ‘Dead Letter’ introduces us to the story’s protagonist/writer through the eyes of his bored-but-besotted wife. The complexity of their relationship is vividly relayed, without hampering the pace of the story. The humour is sharply observed, only a little cruel, and tinged with empathy for the human condition. The denouement is as clever as it is moving. The following passage illustrates the depth of character, detail and humour.

Helen of Troy — diaphanous, luminous, and ethereal — glided into the room and banged her shin on the coffee table.

Dammit! She bit her lip so as not to put speech to it. Hopping, balancing with a hand tightly around an ornately carved bedpost, she vigorously rubbed her barked ankle.

“W-what —?” came Randolph’s sluggish voice from a point somewhere below a mountain range of goose-down pillows.
Crap! Both feet down, ankle clearly more painful than damaged, she smoothed her sheet, adjusted her dime-store tiara, took a deep breath, and crooned out a melodious “Oooooooooooo!” Then she whispered down low near her husband’s ear, “From the great beyond, I have come!”

“W-who is there? Who is it?”
The lights in the room were dim, so much so that everything seemed washed with a brush dipped in inky shade and shadow. The bed was a pale rectangle, the pile of pillows a gray smudge, her husband’s face a pale mask haloed by silver hair — and that damned coffee table completely invisible.

There are lots to be enjoyed in this collection. The quality of the writing is outstanding and the depth of characterisation is enormous. For any serious aficionado of erotic fiction, Licks & Promises is a necessity for the bedside bookshelf.

Ashley Lister
September 2009

Dark Roasted M.Christian

Here's a brand new Dark Roasted Blend piece on keeping very special time: beautiful astronomical clocks and such.


Because that’s what everything was to them, many believe early man saw the universe as a living thing. Each flash of lightning, every star in the sky, the rain that fell, the ground beneath their feet – everything around them was part of some huge, living and breathing creature.

But then that changed. The Greeks, and their intellectual ancestors, looked at the world and while they saw life they also began to see a mechanism to it all, a precise and ordered regularity.

Alhough we know the ancient Greeks were extremely intelligent, just how smart was hinted at in 1901 – and then confirmed many yearsnlater. At first the hunk of rusted iron that was pulled from the sean near the African island of Antikythera was just a curiosity, a bitmof archeological weirdness. It was only decades and decades later that modern science was finally able to pry apart the secrets of ancient science. Very, very ancient science.

The Antikythera device, as it’s called, is a meticulous and precise assembly of 72 gears – a simply staggering work of craftsmanship.nWhat’s even more astounding is that scientists think the device wasman astronomical calculator: an elaborate, incredibly accurate computer that was built in 150 to 100BC.

What’s even more chilling -- as well as exciting – isn’t that the Antikythera devicemexisted but that it could very wellmbe the first hint at how technologically advanced the ancient workmengineers were. The device is certainly miraculous but it was also a common working machine; not a rarity but instead what could be something that navigators used everyday. Who knows what other mechanisms and devices have yet to be found?

A few hundred years later the universe was still a mechanical place but the engineering that went into creating machines to predict and understand it became even more complicated and elaborate. Clocks got a shot in their developmental arm because they – when used with star charts and sextants – were essential navigation tools. It wasn’t long until clock mechanisms were used to track not just the hours, minutes and seconds of commerce and shipping but also the stars and planets in the sky.

One of the more incredible astronomical clocks – and there arem certainly a lot of very incredible examples of such things – is the legendary Prague Astronomical Clock. To say that it’s elaborate would be a ridiculous understatement. The clock is an insanely complicated instrument to not only tell the time but also to track the movements of the stars and planets – at least the ones they knew about in the 1400s when the clock was built. It's easy to think that making something as complicated as the Prague clock was a one time, supremely rare thing. Although the clock wasn’t a common working gizmo like the Antikythera device, it also used technology and craftsmanship that existed in many other Medieval cities – and even, a century or so later, insanely miniaturized to the point where, if you were rich, you could carry what was basically a tiny version in your pocket.


While complicated, one of the greatest things about the Prague clock is that it isn’t just a working clock; it almost deserves to be called a monumental kinetic sculpture. It ticks and tocks and ticks its tocks in ways, to quote from the Bible, that are “a wonder to behold.” So wondrous, in fact, that you can find computer models online demonstrating just how elegant and beautiful the mechanism is – which says a lot that we use 21st century technology to appreciate the skill of a 1400 clock maker.

Another beautiful example of astronomical clock engineering is the famous Wells Cathedral clock. Begun a few years before Prague’s, the clock is another accurate and heavenly (literally as well as figuratively) mechanism. Like its Prague kin, the clock is a beautiful as well as accurate view of the world as an enormous clockwork machine, a carefully assembled, meticulously crafted, creation.


Unfortunately, the growing ubiquitousness of these clocks’ technology spelled their doom. As more and more people could afford to carry watches there was less and less of a need for a huge, central – and, naturally, elaborate, town hall clock. It simply didn’t make financial sense to keep building them – which is a sign that humanity's growing, view of the world was mechanical: tocks and tocks as well as dollars and sense.

What’s ironic is that with the coming of the 21st century – and, living in a world ruled by the careful calculations of software -- humans are starting to understand, and even plan to use, the uncertainty of a quantum universe: an existence where things are never quite what they seem and chaos is part of How Everything Works.

Still, the incredible Antikythera device, the Prague and Wells Cathedral clocks, are beautiful in their antique mechanisms – as well as the nostalgia of when the world was as precise and orderly as the back and forth swing of a pendulum.

Pauline Likes Rude Mechanicals

This is very, very, very, nice: my great pal, Pauline, just sent me this review for my soon-to-be-released new collection, Rude Mechanicals. Thanks, sweetie!

In his latest collection of erotic short stories, RUDE MECHANICALS, M.Christian excels himself. He gives us stories that allure and arouse; stories that are so exquisite that we are compelled to keep turning the pages. Christian is a wonderful story teller; he takes us gently into areas we would probably have never ventured into. Places we never dreamt existed; strange, sometimes dark habitats, that scare and delight. And as if the superb stories weren’t enough, Christian loves, absolutely adores, words. He’s a poet. Using the right word, in the right place, economic where it matters, flamboyant when it’s appropriate; he’s a master craftsman, always dancing ahead of the reader, teasing, even taunting; follow him if you dare.

In “Blow Up,” Christian is writing about one of my favourite things. Fetish. The protagonist isn’t interested in Betty, the curvy shop assistant in the toy store. She makes a pass at him and he notices, and admires her round bounciness, but only in relation to his purchase. He makes a note of her phone number, mentally acknowledging that it will be useful to him later, when new stocks of his fetish arrive. Here, Christian places the reader in the position of voyeur. We see that this man is a connoisseur; he has established his ritual into a fine art. Christian paces the writing carefully and we watch as the narrator prepares himself, in a routine long established. He knows which shaving creams work best for him, and buys them in bulk. The ones which sting and chafe the skin. He knows which oils to anoint himself with. Which are too sticky, or too thin. His fetish is intriguing, and a reader can’t help speculating on the well travelled paths he has walked along, to arrive at, what is for him, perfection.

“Billie,” reads like a ‘road film.’ Billie, is a biker, tough and butch. She and her Harley conquer the Pacific Highway. It’s a love affair; Billie is a top. No-one tops her. Not even the open road. She brandishes the Harley like a weapon, daring, intimidating the road, challenging it. “She is a Daughter of the Open Road, a disciple of Harley Davison.” Adrenaline rushes, it’s overwhelming. Billie cries out at the road -- then someone overtakes her. The shock; the anger, is almost too much for Billie to deal with, and what follows is a crazy race that will almost certainly end in death. The roar of the bikes is all consuming -- then Billie sees the biker’s face and everything changes…

In “Beep,” Christian takes a playful look at those messages left on our voice mail. They could be from anyone. You’ve won a holiday! the lottery! Or more likely, will you please call your bank about your overdraft! This message is none of these; it’s from a Mistress, and she wants his cock. NOW! His cock belongs to her. She sadistically purrs her instructions, and tells him what she’s going to do to him. Her intentions, are wild and erotic, even pornographic. His cock is instantly hard at the sound of her voice; steel wrapped in satin. It’s both chilling and hot and very, very sexy -- with a wonderful twist at the end.

Those gadgets have feelings too. Spare a thought for the lonely vibrator, discarded, abandoned, unloved and probably, unwashed, beneath your bed. In “I am Jo’s Vibrator,” the vibrator tells its story. It tells us about itself; it sells itself to us. Then, it tells us about its experiences with Jo and Patrick. Jo and Patrick approach the ‘Rabbit Pearl Vibrator,’ with trepidation and apprehension. They are nervous, Patrick more than Jo. Would Jo like the rabbit more than him? The rabbit knows better. Sex toys are for the pleasure of men and women. Jo and Patrick are very happy and so is the Rabbit Pearl Vibrator.

M.Christian’s writing is meticulous, but there’s nothing forced about it. It flows easily, from a lively mind, to his fingertips, to the keyboard. RUDE MECHANICALS is a big accomplishment, from a very accomplished writer. These erotic stories make us laugh, like in “Beep.” Sometimes, sex can be intimidating and the anticipation can almost overwhelm, as in “Blow Up.” There’s the dark side of desire in “Speaking Parts,” as Pell yearns for the enigmatic Arc. This story is like a lament, for a future that probably will never be.

But, for me, these erotic tales tell me that sex, in all its forms, is something to be celebrated. It’s joyous, it’s fun; it’s also hilariously funny. Well it is, isn’t it?

Masquerade: Page 6

Here's another preview of a very special project: Masquerade was illustrated by my great pal, and a fantastic artist, Wynn Ryder, from a story by ... well, me ... for an upcoming graphic novel anthology called Legendary.

I'll be putting up more pages from the final over the next few months ... or you can read the entire thing on Wynn's Deviantart pages.