Storm Grant Quirky fiction that's pretty, witty, and gritty!
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Cover art
Renee Rocco
TECHNO THRALL, novella-length erotic futuristic novella NOW AVAILABLE from Lyrical Press. (m/f)
This man's too hard, this man's too soft, this man's just...a robot?
Detective Deyla Reckard lives in a time of communication implants and spray-on condoms. Robots are common as workers, soldiers, and pleasure-toys. And sometimes as criminals. A case of an e-companion attacking its owner makes Deyla question her firm belief that humans are good and robots are bad. Then she meets the man of her wet dreams and begins to fall in love, although who's human and who's robot, she's not sure.
Warning, this title contains explicit sex, graphic language, and dark themes.
Ms. Grant has penned a very powerful short with Techno Thrall. This reviewer was drawn into Deyla’s life and her frustration from the beginning. I absolutely love sci-fi pieces and Ms. Grant has definitely delivered superbly with Deyla’s story and even added a twist that this reviewer wasn’t expecting. Way to go Storm! It normally takes a bit to surprise me. So if you love sci-fi and hanker for a story about a woman trying to find love and her place in her futuristic society, this story is a must. I am happy to give Techno Thrall Four and Half Delightful Divas.
Rated Four and half Delightful
Divas by Dakota!
http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2009/04/t
4 out of 5 Fallen Angels!
Storm Grant’s novella TECHNO THRALL takes the reader into a world where the lines between human and mechanical are beginning to blur. Once the plot... began to concentrate on the search for the rogue robot, I was hooked. Perhaps my fascination is based on just how human the MC1000 appears to be. He is certainly more humane and sympathetic than the humans who surround him. This is an interesting story that keeps the reader guessing about Deyla and her trouble with post-traumatic stress as well as her feelings about the missing robot.
Techno Thrall ends with a twist that is satisfying..., and when you have finished reading the story, you can’t help but look back and review it again from a slightly different viewpoint.
~Reviewed
by: Whitney
http://fallenangelreviews.com/2009/Febru
She mopped water from her face and hair, the puny dishtowel sopping
up the worst of it. "I'm going to change. Don't go..." She'd been about to
order him not to go anywhere, but why shouldn't he? He was just being a Good
Samaritan. Why shouldn't he get out of this whacko's house at the first
opportunity? "Uh, Malcolm?" She paused.
He turned and met her eyes.
She looked away, not wanting to get lost again.
"Thanks for everything. The getting me home last night, the overnight
babysitting." She hefted the dripping dishtowel. "The cold shower."
At this, Malcolm did two unexpected things -- he began to laugh, and he
reached out and hugged her.
She laughed, too, and after a moment, hugged back.
"I was so scared," he repeated once the laughter was under control. "Wow!
You've got one weird form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." He chuckled
softly, a sound of wonderment as much as amusement.
Deyla knew she had some pretty offbeat reactions to things - not your
everyday PTSD. The military shrinks had been evasive and cagey, but
eventually given her that diagnosis. "What else could it be?" they'd
deflected. She began to shiver, the cabin not being all that warm. Since her
senses had become overly active, she was easily chilled. Snuggling up to
Malcolm helped a lot. Pushing against her, he buried his face into her hair.
She sniffed, recognizing the primal smell of lust among other, more modern
scents. Instantly, instinctively, her sensitive body responded. Shifting
slightly, she insinuated her leg against Malcolm's groin, finding the
hardness she'd hoped for.
He flicked his warm, wet tongue over her throat, before raising his face.
She needed no further invitation. Their kiss was tentative at first, but the
moist warmth was overwhelming, made to feel all the more searing by contrast
with the cold, and soaked clothing they now both wore. She pulled away,
already panting.
He gazed at her, smiling, the very embodiment of lust. Recalling the
interior picture from the MC1000 brochure, her stomach pulsed. How could
they steal someone's humanity? How could one man be so sexy?
"Hey." He ran his hand down her cheek. "What say we get out of these wet
clothes?" His smile... pure sin.
"Good idea." Taking his hand, she led her guest upstairs to the cabin's
master bedroom. Senses fully aroused, she took in all the stimuli around her
as they went - the sound of their feet on the steps, the old pine boards
squeaking beneath their weight, the whirr-click of mechanical joints as they
ascended. She smelled pine and lust and mouse-droppings and sweat and dust
and lithium-based machine lubricant. She felt the damp clothing against her
skin, the roughly polished wood of the banister against her left hand, the
cool, smooth, perfect flesh in her right.
She was so glad Malcolm had convinced her he was human.
The story continues...