The Space Noir Bar, Michael Marino [people reading books txt] 📗

mates can be recycled in time for environmental reasons, and replaced at the local hobby shop.

 

Chapter Two - The Age of the Erotibots

 

Machina’s now were the mecha-goddesses of the galaxy. I, having never been with one, and preferring the flesh and body company of a real woman, Rertopolin or Venusian, I can’t honestly  say if they are sexy or not..it's all up to individual taste...sex appeal is all in the libido of the holder.

Development f  Femme Fatale Machina’s electronically laden with functional  operating sex organs began long ago when a forgotten German filmmaker, Fritz Lang unleashed the False Maria on movie audiences in the cult classic film “Metropolis.” She was not just your average sexually leveraged buxom mecha-bombshell. Banging her probably was similar to having sex with a Jamaican steel drum without breasts.

 

Amazon women from the moon, devil girls from Mars, and mutant motorcycle bitches from Outer Space and and assorted narco neco nympho's from the planet Necrophilias were common fantasy in the Old Days. Not quite dead, but the Voodoo Queens of Old war torn New Orleans had a certain charm along with sexual spells cast with the ingestion of erotic elixirs and potent passion inducing potions that promote promiscuity and palate pleasing libidinous feasting to treat the hot, humid senses of sultry sex of the deep penetrating groins of a hungry male. It was a volatile mixture of day of the dead gang bangs and your basic zombie love of lust and longing.  Getting screwed by a zombie with permanent rigormortis would be the attack of a perpetual hardon horror with a rigid mortis!!!

 

Humans ended up  lifeless, emotionless, and sexless so they weren't much of a threat however the film could have taken a delightful detour in a Pod Sex Parlor. That alone speaks volumes and overnight...Pods would be sexy...or at last..at least. The pods themselves could be disposable like a used Cerean condom giving  the pods a prophylactic nature that would  emulate a weird vaginal driven vehicle for genital gratification and vaginal victory!!!

 

Toss away the inflatable dolls and look to the skies....towards the constellations of consternation...there is Genital Gemini and Vaginal Virgo...so what's your sign? It doesn't matter…

 

The Machina class prostitute is a mechanical female...make no mistake. Sexy, great lines and enough tech power under her alloy frame to give you a nice in a lifetime  once over..they never get tired and have no sexual limitations as humans do.

 

Like all things mechanical they do break down. Then it’s time to bring "her" into the lab and put her on the repair rack. To examine her properly she has to strip for you and that is where the rack hoist comes into play. The rack itself is a hydraulic pole dance device for the machina to display herself with her bottom completely exposed, and her under carriage movable parts shamelessly and electronically forced to move and undulate to the audience of high tech mechanics with a voyeuristic bent. As she rises slowly on the rack..she is stripped completely with all her treasures exposed. Her microchip  alone is enough to make a rocket go off by itself..

 

Once she's doing the high tech pole dance on the Rack it's time fire her up her with a high tech dose of electrical stimuli, making  adjustments as diagnosed to guarantee the customer more bang for his space bucks. Her working area also has to be spacious, but small enough to be tightly packed with your goodies. A well charged rear end is crucial for optimum performance, a little wiggle action is good to have. Tuned up properly she will keep all her moving parts working smoothly when it comes to up and down and in and out action.Remember, a good tune up is like foreplay. If she needs a recharge just use the charger provided (cost is extra) and give her a jolt. The longer the charge the better will be your jolt and she'll go the distance for you down the fuel injected quarter mile track.

 

Her appetite you'll find is insatiable and her need for more action as well as yours is exciting! She's ready for anything. You can now play with her speed switches and cop a feel and check the different modes and settings. A good set of knobs will enhance the experience. It's nice to have a nice knob in hand to play with as the juice begins to  flow from both of you, machina and man.

 

Once she's fully charged and ready for  action, hit the switch to “ON”. Then begin to pump! She'll purr like a mechanical kitten and handle well. A machina with a full charge is like a nymphomaniac..she'll go and go for hours..until her charge runs out..then simply insert your male charger adaptor into the female electrical input one more time and you and she are off to the races!

Chapter Three - Ready to Rock Robotia

 

Asrini and I planned to leave the orbit of Retropolis in two days. That would give me time to pack for the trip , turn my case load notes over to Sandoz and get wasted on Retropolin Soma and laid by a human female with the normal number of body parts (no assembly or batteries required) one more time at the Noir Bar, my favorite Dystopian dive in which to drown delightfully dissipated in and deliriously debauched without having a life preservers of emotions involved. Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am!

 

As I was packing up, “it” suddenly hit me! The “it” was where I had seen Asrini before. In the dense mind numbing fog of my drunks, deliriums and tranqs the media events almost eluded me, but, now it rushed at me with the impact of a Norman Mailer one page left hook description of a vagina.

 

It was during the recent rebellion..the one where a race of Lesbians, the Sappho’s tried to break away from the Retropolin government to declare autonomy and create their own sector. The short lived insurrection was given the government code name “The Lez-Erection.”

 

The “rebels” were infiltrated by a beautiful alluring agent of the Com-reds from the Asian Red Sector to obtain information and use it to crush the revolt. The dykes were doomed.

Retropolis was after all a Com-red Planet. Com-red was bastardized from the old term for Comrades..those merry men and women of Communism. Communism, Socialism and its offshoot -isms had not been wiped off the face of the planet after the cataclysmic Draconian Satellite Drone War of 2598. In fact, they grew proportionately larger and stronger as the Gulag Goliath devoured their former adversaries faster than a speeding laser ray shot from a satellite in space!

 

Western democracies that had reigned supreme cloning third world colonies for centuries folded like a cheap Sears suit after getting trampled under the heavy boots of the Eastern Sphere of Influence of the Red East and it’s army of mechanized mercenaries. Fighting machines supplied by the planet Robotia it turns out, arms dealers to the stars, (literally!) and the highest bidders from Triangulum to Centaurus A. Roboia was also the planet I was about to venture to in search of Asrini’s lost or abducted and in any case missing younger sister feared being transformed into a Robotian Machina prostitute. Forget Robo Cop. These were mechanical sex machines who could overload the libidinous circuits of a human male or female at the speed of sexual light.

The victors of the RED East, with the help of Robotian intrigues and arms became a virus of the vanquished Western leaning planets. Over time both became one as borders disappeared, absorbed by the Com-Reds, rendering global geo patterns vanished into an invisible vortex. Strict regulations and global government swallowed whole ideologies as smooth as a cheerleader gives a blowjob under the bleachers. The “left” was all that WAS left...as the right gave up it’s right to exist thanks to liquidation, sedation, re-education, intimidation, coercion, firing squads, and exile.

Today in the 30th Cent politics and sex, as always, still makes the merry world go on a merry go-round romp, and when you do it by political leanings I find the left as a governing body is as strict as a Mother Superior with PMS but the yang to the yin is that sexually the left is so much sexier than I could imagine the right could ever be! The Left has always been and still is a striptease act with as many costumes as there are fighting factions. The Com-Red female is a sexy Minsk minx stripped down on a rim-shot runway to a g-string Hong Kong Viet Cong King Kong thong exposing a hint of a super nova pubic clit cluster t come. The thong once removed can induce an orbital orgasm on the mental, physical and spiritual planes.

 

Liberal Democrats will straddle the fence, and being of a cautious nature will not spread their legs too far apart, and those madcap Libertarians will talk about sex, but still will be more comfortable masturbating. The liberal Democrats will only let you down in bed.

 

In the Solar System of Planetary Socialism, I find that a socialist from Saturn will talk all the way through the sexual act to the point of orgasm, thereby ruining any mood that may have tried to bubble to the Saturnalia surface for erection eruption, but on the upside they will want to include as many people under the covers to share the sexual wealth! You know, a sense of Plutonian Utopian Community. So forget a threesome….you might end up with ten alien participants in perfect sexual alignment, each and all with 10 different theories of how to achieve a sexual climax that is fair for everyone!

 

At the far-out far end, you’ve gone too far off the political spectrum, a damned Andromedan anarchist will want to explode an Asteroidal suicidal device first to get in the mood and then make you read hefty lefty leaflets on how to screw an anarchist in 10 easy steps. However Comrade, do you want an erection as vast as the Rings of Saturn? Do you want to have a Super Nova explode in your bootleg spacesuit in the Kremlin?

 

If the answer is Yes..then get in your time travel pod and head on back to the old, ancient, forgotten former USSR! Those Moscow Girls will knock you out…

 

In the 20th Cent Das Kapital was not exactly the Kama Sutra and the ABC’s of the KGB did not add up to a romp under the hammer and sickle bed covers. You could