mopedronin, posts by tag: cyberpunk - LiveJournal

Copyright 2008-2009, Made in DNA


Nutcracker Sweets... that's what I've dubbed those delicious Japanese SM mavens who punt the brainpans of rope-restricted men.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't go in for it.

Whether or not the ladies are a product of society is moot. They boot because it suits. The men deserve it. They deserve to deserve it.

And what of me? Do _I_ deserve it? ... Maybe. Maybe we all do.

Maybe it's part of the job of being a 'Man'. We men 'pound that pussy!!!!!' Yeah! YEAH! We do... But it doesn't make us gods. It shouldn't

Kurara. That's her name. No last name.

Her business card listed her as a 'Professional Sessionist'. WTF!? But what's in a title when you crush people's nuts for cold hard cash?

She claimed to be the byproduct of a society gone divorce dysfunctional, youth obsessed, and junk mad.

Mating that with incestuous parental units, designer drug binges, and petty theft arrests... she makes for a real gem.

Her days are filled by frothing, rabid, lunge kill-crazy, brand-name consumers. And her nights by power sickos lost in that lovin' feelin'.

I admit; I'm strung out on her. One step away from overdose, and three from a sharp boot in the 'nads.

Kurara has a body, and a body of 1700 AV titles. Each one a block ball buster. Her resume reads like a dirty magazine ad. As it should.

I don't know why she chose me. She's that kind of woman. Nothing for nobody but herself. Everything on her terms.

My invitation to the industry party was an afterthought. A spot filler. An applause-fluffer.

She leeched on to me at the catering table between the couscous and jambalaya. But I didn't know her from the faceless on the streets.

"Have you ever eaten sashimi from a naked woman's body?" Her tone was conversational, sincerely inquisitive, bizarrely honest.

I've heard better pickup lines from JunkDNA addicts trolling donation clinics for unsuspecting first-timers.

But in her clodhopper pumps, she was an Amazon. I didn't want to fit on her plate next to the yakisoba, and I was afraid to look at her teeth.

"I'm sorry?" was the stumbling lunacy that I coughed up.

"Sashimi off a naked woman." She popped a gyoza and cocked her head at me. "Frankly, I'd rather just eat the girl."

"There is that. But you have to watch for pubic hair." I tried to chuckle off-handedly. Non-chalantly? Can you do that!?

She eyed me. "She shaves first." Mental head-desk. "I would never eat a woman or off her, unless she shaved first." That's the fact Jack.

And that was that. She hounded me down the rest of the table, invited herself to my table, and helped herself to my plate. She bitched me.

When I tried to excuse myself to go to the pisser, she followed me down the long, twisting hall, and camped, cat-like in a tiger-print top.

I bolted! But tweaked to the gills, she had enhanced strength and speed. I fret-pondered if she'd installed a cannibal gene.

Her left hand reaches up under my neck and using my own momentum against me, she plows me into the wall, lifting me off my feet.

She rubs her body up against mine. A petite, dark nipple pops from her halter top as she leans in to phero-snif my mandible barcode.

A wet sigh betrays her lips. It is quickly followed by a creek of blood that rivulets down her neck after she takes a hunk of my earlobe.

---

MEDIA WHORES is short, minimalist fiction originally written for SMS subscription. SquarePlus is hosting a collected and edited version of the original with more material and covers by Japanese hentai artist 4D Heaven.

Full version on sale at http://www.squareplus.net (hentai manga section)

 

BATH DADDY
© 2008, Made in DNA

"Bath Daddy! Bath Daddy!" The toddler jumped up and down in joy at the prospect of bath time once more.

Daddy chuckled, pleased the little boy enjoyed bath time with him. It was, after all, the only time he ever got to see his beloved.

After his mother had undressed him, the little boy bound into the room that was a combination shower and bath. Swirls of lazy steam whirled dizzily in the boy's wake.

Daddy had prepared two plastic stools on which the pair sat down and began washing each other. Daddy took particular fatherly care to wash behind the child's ears, under his armpits and all the spots a boy the age of three himself would miss.

After rinsing well, the pair jumped into the waiting hot water of the tub with its flotilla of multicolored monkeys, whales, dogs and associated animal shape outlines of plastic.

They sang songs and talked of the boy's day. It was a good bath, as all baths are meant to be, but not all are everyday. On a scale of one to ten, Daddy rated this a ten. Bliss.

When the time was appropriate, Daddy pressed the Call button on the bath tub controls and the boy's mother came with towel to bundle the boy off to his jammies waiting in the other room.

Daddy stepped back into the water, sat and waited.

Half an hour later, when the boy's mother returned, his was there for her. And he was there for her.

With a sigh of contentment, the boy's mother stepped from the bath, kissed Daddy, and pressed the Drain button on the bath controls.

Gurgling contentedly the bath finally slipped away, Daddy lay down in it, and closed his eyes.

The boy's mother pulled the slide-top over the bath up to Daddy's neck. "Goodnight Bath Daddy. And thank you again."

Bath Daddy opened his eyes and replied, "This Bath Daddy is pleased to serve you Ma'am. May you have a pleasant tomorrow."

A smile fell on her lips, she pulled the cover over the top fully, and pressed the Clean button.

First Warren Ellis pimps me on his blog, then his livejournal, now Gene Generation writer/director Pearry Teo has been kind enough to as well. Thank you gentlemen, and thank you m1k3y for all the head-ups, kind words, and pimpage of your own!

MEDIA WHORES is now available at my Lulu store: http://www.lulu.com/dnafiction .

It features new material (ohlahlah!), an excellent 3DCG cover (included in the document itself) by Japanese 3DCG illustrator 4DHeaven Terrace (http://heaven4d.babu.com/) and retails for a whopping $1 USD.

MEDIA WHORES -- a bizarro story of sex, zombies, and a mediamatrix looking to step on your nuts -- now on sale at Second Life: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Publis…

Hello, and here's a bomb for you...

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Read the rest of the story at http://www.twitter.com/junkdnafict…

Hey, I've become a WEAPON OF MASS DISTRACTION over at Twitter for slits and wiggles:

http://twitter.com/mopedronin -- for the inane semi-daily blow by blows

http://twitter.com/junkdnafiction -- which gets mentioned at Warren Ellis Dot Com (Thank you Mr Ellis): http://www.warrenellis.com/?p=4394

He didn't even write anything. He let me speak all for my self. (Fear that!)

http://twitter.com/japaneseword -- a fun little Japanese/English SMS courier.

and last but not least,

http://twitter.com/harakirific -- my first EvAR short story in Japanese (currently on hiatus).

The emptiness of my darkened office always seemed that much more prominent when I returned from cases abroad. I just got back from solving a missing person's case that I'd been working for the past two weeks. One that didn't end so happily ever after. When do they?

A Mr. Bartholomew Netle had gone missing a month ago in Rochester City. A traveling salesman, it wasn't uncommon for him to be gone weeks at a time. But his wife described him as a punctual man and a good father--one that didn't like to disappoint his children--who could be counted on. Naturally when he didn't return home on the day he promised, or during the following week, she became quite concerned. She contacted the police. They put out a missing person's alert and expended the expected amount of manpower and hours. And got nowhere for their efforts.

Entering the picture, I'd finally tracked him to the Rochester City Morgue. John Doe Number Five--that week. All his personal items and there was actually currency in his wallet. The only other item was a woman's hairpin--a rather elaborate and expensive one. A gift for his wife. Or?

His corpse had not been found in the hotel his wife had claimed he was going to stay at, but in a rather seedy hotel on the lower west side where he'd been registered under the name 'Dingo Ficus'. Uh-huh. Give the man two points for originality. I ePayed the grisled night manager of the dive and she sauntered out a side door for a Brain.Stab. I accessed the hotel computer. A 'Mrs. Ficus' was also registered. Two more points for slickness. Perhaps it was her hairpin at the morgue.

Back to the City and Mrs Netle, after which followed the tragic story of a faithful husband who died of natural cause: brain aneurism. That much was true according to the coroner’s report. I didn't see any point in making a bad situation worse. I don't believe clients pay me to do so. They already have their versions of what's happened. It's just up to me to ply the facts into a working lie. Lies which I always ground in truth. Makes them that much more plausible.


So my empty office welcomed me back. Silently but true enough. Warming my desk out of sleep -mode, I gave the vending machine-bot down the hall a good whack to which it protested vehemently, but gave up a warmed can of green tea. Warmed? It had to be eighty degrees outside. I eyed the bot, suspicious that it had had quite enough of my pilfering ways, and snort-chuckled. At least it had a sense of humor.

Back at my desk, sipping my ill-gotten gains, I worked through the load of email that had built up while I was gone. Most of it crap, I tossed a good three-fourths of it. The rest of it was bills, bills, and more bills. Oh, and hate email with a bomb attachment from my ex again. When was she going to learn that these kinds of things only turned me on? Can't blame her for trying though.

I whipped off a couple of the bills, the ones that couldn't wait anyway, and flopped onto the battered leather couch I kept in the office for clients and sleepovers. I set the wallviewer at my feet for the livecam on the outside of the building. Fifteen floors up, I was accorded a fair view of the mayhem below. The evening was just getting started and the City was ready to play.

Towering nefreon buildings blinked spectacularly--simultaneously keeping the whole building cool as a cucumber--against equally sterile-bright hospitals, depressed gothic bank structures with their robo-gargoyle guardians, city-run project-archologies housing the poor, and the rather phallic stations of industry.

I didn't care for the pandering slop on TV that passed as entertainment. I had enough drama in my life as it was. The city was my reality. It burned and fornicated, squirmed and shimmied, loved and died. It was Ourorboros, devouring its own tail in a vicious circle.

Rendition of the heroine of my upcoming novel HARA KIRI by the fantastic Colombian artist zfura

UPDATE: It is my proud duty to inform you all that zfura has agreed to do a HARA KIRI comic/manga! No release date or format has been set yet.

set in a future, alternate reality Japan (Greater Nippon) where the Shogun and the Emperor rule two separate, yet friendly, states (similar to two Koreas). The heroine is Hara Kiri, a young bounty hunter, whose job it is to track the criminal elements of New Edo.

A combo of samurai chambara (sword play) and high-tech. No release date is set yet.

For those of you wondering what happened to ZIPPER... I wish I could say more. It seems to be in a limbo state. Frankly, I feel I am going to have to make some very hard decisions about it. I AM NOT cancelling this project!!! NO NO NO NO. I will not allow this to happen. Zipper is something I have spent the good part of more than a year on now, including writing the script and coaching the illustrator. So, I *REFUSE* to give up on it.

I have published three works; a comic/script combo about a body-for-hire (ZIPPER: BOUNTY), a short story collection featuring news stories from the future (NOT NECESSARILY THE FUTURE), and a short story of the future of love in a very heartless, future Tokyo. All available at Lulu.com. At $1.00 apiece, they are valued for ease on the e-pocketbook! PayPal accepted, immediate download!

http://www.lulu.com/dnafiction

Not Necessarily the Future
Not Necessarily the Future is a collection of five humorous short stories featuring news from the future. Tune into the future of news: from A.I. robots to zombies. Also features 4 superb illustrations from horror comic author/illustrator Jerem Morrow.

Zipper: Bounty
Zipper is an "AnyBody" -- more specifically a body for hire -- who, together with her A.I. dragonfly companion, will take on any job for any one. Set 700 years into the future where humans have excelled at the sciences, taking them to the stars as well as allowing them to manipulate their world in a variety of mediums. This is an original short 6-page comic in rough ink, and the working script from which it was illustrated.

Now I Lay Me...
Greater Kanto City--the sprawling amalgamation-megalopolis that consumed Tokyo, Yokohama and Kawasaki--doesn't give a damn who you are or what your dreams are. It shallows everything without remorse. But a promise is a promise, and sometimes the only thing one can do is recite half-remembered verses from childhood prayers.

UPDATED!

Two more short stories, and a short story collection on the way soon!