"Can we, as a country, all
agree
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xmag.com
: December 2003: Fucking
Machines
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Round and
'round went the big fucking wheel,
In and
out went the prick of steel.
Until at
last his wife she cried,
"Enough,
enough, I'm satisfied."
--"The
Fucking Machine," from The Dirty Song Book
(Jerry Silverman, 1982)
A cyber-nightmare
stalks the American male's virility. The inevitable
collision of sexual perversion and technological
innovation has produced a new wave of "fucking machines"--motorized
devices designed to achieve tireless, high-speed
penetration of the human vagina and other even dirtier
orifices. And what's more unsettling, these electro-powered
metal-and-rubber monsters are being marketed to
women and gay men--the two most dangerous elements
of our society.
As a human
male with a human penis, I am offended. No matter
how many sit-ups I do or protein shakes I drink,
I still can't compete with the greasy, steely stamina
of these horny automatons. No matter how many handfuls
of Viagra, Levitra and Cialis I jam down my gullet,
I still can't muster 300 thrusts per minute until
the electric company shuts off the power.
This sense
of my relative physical frailty, the humiliating
knowledge that I can't satisfy a woman of my
own tribe with the same piston-pumpin' ferocity
as a pile of nuts, rubber and bolts, is what informs
and fuels my rage against the fucking machine. I
am jealous of its stamina and, yes, maybe even its
looks.
The granddaddy
of fucking-machine websites, www.fuckingmachines.com,
shows crude animated GIFs for a slew of motorized
hump-contraptions with scary names such as "The
Intruder," "The Trespasser," "The Hammer," "The
Predator" and--my favorite name--"The Drilldo."
Watching these perpetual-motion appliances pumping
away with locomotive fury was a shamefully emasculating
experience for me.
The home page
for www.fuckmachines.net only rubs more salt
in my wounds:
These women
experience pure penetration and unrelenting vibration
for the first time in their lives. They control
the speed of the penetration. They control the depth
of the penetration. They control the intensity of
the vibration. They fuck like they have never fucked
before. It's a beautiful thing to watch--orgasm
after orgasm!
A man who
builds fucking machines for a living describes their
technical advantages over the human male:
With fucking
machines...you can easily achieve more penetration
stimulation than possible in any other way. My normal
fucking machines might have a stroke up to 6", and
up to 300 strokes a minute....One based on a reciprocating
saw (my "Hole Saw") can easily do over 2000 short
(1-1/4") strokes a minute. Not a chance any human
can match any of that.....
The website
for a product called the "Jetaime," which resembles
a padded barrel with a dildo sticking up through
it, lists "REASONS WHY JETAIME IS BETTER THAN A
MAN," which they claim is "Adapted from the Cucumber
Book":
JETAIME
is at least six inches long ... JETAIME stays hard
for
as long as you need ... JETAIME never suffers from
performance anxiety ... JETAIME will never make
a scene because there is another JETAIME in the
house ... JETAIME will not leave dirty shorts on
the floor.
"My wife came
over and over again," writes a fucking-machine manufacturer
regarding his spouse's first ride on a mechani-cock.
"She scratched me 'til I almost bled."
"It saved
my marriage!" enthuses one satisfied customer's
online testimonial.
"[The machine] serves as the other male partner
my wife always fantasized about (double penetration,
a huge black cock, etc.), but that I would have
never accepted with a real guy. And much safer,
too (no STDs, no danger of her falling for the other
guy, etc.)!"
"My wife cannot
believe this machine," burbles another happy cuckold.
"She has ridden it everyday for up to 3 hours...wow!
Every orgasm is a "10." She's hornier than ever...."
In a discussion
of fucking machines posted on soc.sexuality.general,
one man shares my fear of imminent sexual obsolescence:
With all
these mechanical dicks hanging, lunging and/or pumping
all over the place, has the male penis, the actual
embodiment of straight and hard, become obsolete?
Have we, as men, lost our claim to the title of
pleasurers of women? ... It is my pride and joy
that I can get women off like they never have gotten
off. But what good am I if she can have all of the
above done by a machine?
IT'S DIFFICULT
TO MAP OUT a history of the modern fucking machine.
Although motorized sexual gizmos have existed as
far back as the late 1800s, a discernible trend
of electronic penetration devices only seems to
have emerged as recently as the mid-1990s.
In her book
The Technology of Orgasm, Rachel Maines chronicles
over fifty sexual-stimulation applicances developed
before 1900, all under the medical guise of curing
women of "hysteria." These ranged from small, hand-cranked
doohickeys all the way up to giant steam-powered
thingamajigs which necessitated a crew of laborers
in a separate room to feed them with coal.
But between
then and now, lost in a tangle of vibrating bullets,
magical eggs, and battery-powered marital aids,
there exists a sort of Dark Age regarding the genesis
of the modern fucking machine. The makers of the
"Sybian," which might be regarded as more of a high-tech
vibrator than a full-on penetration gadget, claim
the idea for their squirming dildo-on-a-barrel device
was hatched in the early 1970s and finally began
development in the mid-80s.
"I don't think
any specific invention started the modern boom,"
claims a man calling himself "Sartan," who began
building fucking machines in the mid-1990s and sells
models crafted from such items as toolboxes and
attaché cases. "There certainly aren't any
components involved that couldn't be found or swapped
at the turn of the prior century, if you didn't
mind steam as a power source."
Sartan is
the most articulate and passionate of the new crop
of fuck-machine builders, these pioneers who meld
sexual fetishes with tool-shop savvy, who mix the
Marquis de Sade with Bob Vila. They engage in a
kinky techspeak revolving around pivot points and
linkage, of converting rotary to linear motion,
of stroke length and thrusts per minute.
"My own fascination
with machine toys is twofold," Sartan writes on
a Usenet discussion board. "First (and probably
primarily) is the mental aspect...helpless before
the machine, as it were. A machine, as opposed to
a human, is relentless. Relentlessly consistent
and mechanical. It doesn't ever get tired (as long
as it has a continuous duty motor), doesn't quit,
you set--it goes. I routinely use my fucking machines
on my wife for several hours at a time (it's a power
trip thing for
me)....
It's a huge turn-on to watch Jenni getting fucked
by a machine."
This theme
of using fuck-machines to indulge sexual sadism
is even more evident in one post on a gay-bondage
newsgroup: I've heard stories of mechanical
fucking machines that you can attach a dildo to
and flip a switch--and fuck forever. Just imagine
the look on a poor boy's eyes when after he's
been tied down securely, the machine comes out--one
that never tires, and is always indifferent and
deaf to cries for mercy.
FOR REASONS
OF UNBRIDLED VANITY and a bottomless sense
of insecurity regarding my place in the cosmos,
I worry about these so-called "fucking machines."
I fret that the more these metallic beasts become
popularized, the less currency I will hold as
a sexual being. Painfully aware that I cannot
compete with these apparatuses on the physical
plane, I agonize over the fact that I will finally
have to develop personal charm and act nice to
women.
I asked
a female friend whether she was aroused at the
idea of these newfangled electro-studs, and, at
least for the record, she denied that they moisten
her lap. "I can't get turned-on by anything that
doesn't have a heartbeat," she told me, possibly
lying.
In an online
discussion thread regarding the socio-sexual implications
of fucking machines, other women tend to agree
with my friend's sentiment: "How can a machine
kiss you and hold you afterward?" one of them
gently asks. "It's the touch contact that is just
as, if not more, satisfying than sex and multi
orgasms. Only another person can provide this."
"You're
human," counsels another. "You have a warm body.
You have a mind. You can speak. You can smile,
laugh, massage, cuddle, whisper sweet things,
etc., things that a machine cannot."
That all
may be true, Toots, but I can't wiggle my pickle
300 times a minute and keep it up forever. And
that is why point, set and match go to those goddamned
fucking machines.
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