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Made in DNA
26 April 2009 @ 08:24 am
©2009, Made in DNA

It was the year I turned seventeen; late summer, sometime at the end of August. The night air under a moonlit sky had that heavy, intoxicating smell of festivals, high spirits and the onset of fall. Officially the obon season was finished and school activities had begun once again, yet there was a pervasive recklessness in the season that would not be contained and regulated to next year; as if our ancestors were still drunk from all the sake offerings left at family alters and gravesides.

Being a weeknight, I was on my way home from cram school, still dressed in my summer school attire, one of the retro sailor uniforms in powder blue and white so popular until near the end of the century when blazers came into fashion. In a fit of youthful flirtatiousness and rebellion, I had rolled the waist of my skirt up into several folds so that the hem of my skirt teased my slender, fair thighs and more than a few of the boys practicing baseball on the school fields earlier that day.

I walked through the dead of the business district to a large park, where upon reaching the opposite side, I would catch a bus home. The city was quiet as I approached the park and the interior still quieter. I often enjoyed my silent walks through the park despite my mother’s worried warnings of perverts. It was true that there had been an incident or two every year, but volunteer patrols of older men in the neighborhood had reportedly brought those numbers down. I was hardly worried.

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Made in DNA
This is probably what we would really seeing if our brains were polluted with blipverts.

Please visit Fuba Recorder's Flickr blog for over 90 pages of similar hi-res images. It's absolutely gorgeous.
Made in DNA
10 February 2008 @ 10:33 am
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)


Made in DNA
© 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.
Made in DNA
13 December 2007 @ 02:00 pm
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!
Made in DNA
12 December 2007 @ 09:39 am
I passed one of my (Japanese) coworkers in a tight area between desks today and we both said 'Sumimasen' (Excuse me) at the same moment. The first thought that came to my mind immediately after was 'Jinx!' I was rather delighted that I had dredged up that old childhood memory that I wanted to share it with her. However, I had no idea if there was a Japanese equivalent. Most likely not as those kinds of gems are cultural, not essentials like saying you're sorry.

I hit my English-Japanese dictionary and looked up jinx. Lo and behold, there it was. And not only was it there, it was listed in katakana as ジンクス! SAY WHAT!? Could it be possible Japanese people might know this word in its original form? No way.

Jumping over to a collegue fluent in English, I asked her. 'Oh sure,' was her reply. 'Jinx is jinx. I know what it is.' An older coworker next to her, said she did too! Get out of town! The older lady could have been my mother!

So we looked it up in one more dictionary, and sure enough, there it was... jinx. Listed as an American slang term in reference to superstition. Holy cow.

But that wasn't the best part. I then began to explain to the younger coworker how I used to use it as a kid to solicit free favors from people ala 'JINX! Buy me a Coke!' (Or simply 'jinx'. There are probably as many ways to say it in the US as there are Americans.) And she then said, 'OH! HAPPY ICE CREAM!'

Come again?

'Happy ice cream' is what people in this part of Japan say in lieu of the word 'jinx'. The idea being that the loser must pony up said ice cream.

Happy ice cream. Indeed.
Made in DNA
19 November 2007 @ 12:04 pm
According to the article (below), 35% of the tourists to Japan could give a rat's ass about the culture; they wanna shop!

Well no kidding. And while Japan has some cool shopping going on (can't deny it) here's my opinions about why:

EVERYTHING IS TOO FUGGING EXPENSIVE - Japan, yo, you gots to figure this out... by the time people have finished paying for their airfare and hotel accomodations, no one has any money to jump on the Bullet Trains that lead out of the greater Kantoh metropolitan area. Thus, tourists figure, fuckit, let's shop. PLUS, after the first day of shopping in Tokyo, they don't have any money left anyway! CLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE FONE.

And now a word for those of you coming to Japan to shop? Are you stupid?!?!? This is not Thailand, China, Taiwan, Korea, or any other part of Asia. This is Japan. You can't just drop in and buy anime and manga and go see the sights. It is NOT a vacation spot. Never has been, never will be. Sorry. CLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE FONE for you too.


Made in DNA
19 November 2007 @ 11:50 am
Oh man. I've been here a decade now, and I know about Japanese suicide websites*, but I have never heard of a REVENGE website. That shit is crazy!

Read more from the Mainichi Daily News site:

* - sites where registered users can seek out others willing to commit suicide WITH them (or in one case, take their life).
Current Music: "Love American Style": Battle Without Honor or Humanity Remix
Made in DNA
14 November 2007 @ 10:45 am
Okay... where can I get (or who can I pay do design) a flash scroller that reads an RSS feed? This is the technology I have been waiting for.

Something a little like this: http://www.metrolyrics.com/rasetsu-koku-lyrics-dir-en-grey.html
Made in DNA
03 September 2007 @ 11:30 am
Police man's family COULD have collected his retirement pension even after he fatally shot a woman he had been stalking for months, and then took his own life. Thankfully they were smart enough not to. But check the reasoning. It's a real kicker:

Under the regulations, [the officer] was considered "retired" the moment he died and could not be fired, which would have allowed the police department to refuse to pay the retirement allowance. -- From the Japan Times Online, http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/nn20070903a5.html

So let me get this straight, this guy stalks a woman for months on end (crime) and fatally shoots her in her own apartment (crime), yet is still eligible for retirement pension because he killed himself (does firing his weapon outside the line of duty constitute another crime?) before he could be fired. Would it sound weird if I said I wanted a job with bennies like that?