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 Sex spurred the Internet’s growth in the late 20th century. In the middle of the 22nd, sex drives the automaton industry. Seventy years after the Holy Wars officially ended, ?tons are needed. The world is a smaller place; its population has climbed back to over a billion, former coastal areas are under water and much of the Pacific Rim has disappeared into the Pacific.
This is the world Frank Deadman is reborn into, in a body gene-crafted as a plaything for the rich. He’s an undersider, responsible for enforcing industrial law. He’s uniquely equipped for the job.
 
?Tons of Sex straddles both genres; Erotica with one foot and Science Fiction with the other, what happens in the middle is both titillating and mind blowing. It satisfies both the die hard Science Fiction fan as well as the person looking for a little non-mental stimulation. This is quite possibly the best book I?ve read in a long time! - F. MacBeth 
Rider of the Purple Paige
Someone I didn?t remember was snuggled against my back. I had no idea where I?d met her or, for that matter, where we were. The previous night was a blank. As was the previous day, and all of the days preceding, right back to my birth. Assuming I?d been born.
A vibration and hum in the wall I identified as motors. I opened my eyes. The room was painted that peculiar pink the pretentious call salmon. The two windows, high on the wall I was facing, were round. So we were in a ship, most likely an ocean liner. Where was it going? For that matter, where had it been? Essential questions, both of them.
Nothing came to mind, at least not an answer to either of those questions. They could wait. The body pressed against me felt wonderful. I might not know where I was in the grander scheme of things, but I knew where I wanted to be within the next couple of minutes.
Before I turned to the woman I searched every corner of my mind, as hard as I could, and still found nothing. Not her, and not me. For all I knew I could be a butterfly dreaming I was a man. I didn?t seriously think that likely but it made as much sense as anything else. I rolled to face my bed mate.
She smiled. "Morning, Frank."
Her face was pale blue and her hair, silky vermilion. Her body was hard and soft in exactly the right places. It should be, considering her price tag. She was a ?ton, a Macbeth Industries Earthquake to be more exact. That I did know. I also knew that whoever I was, I was travelling first class and that there was no point asking my companion for answers. She was expensive, but all the money had been put into her chassis. Her control centre was oriented to physical, not computing, functions.
"What’s your pleasure?" she asked.
"You know what I like," I answered, by way of experiment. I didn?t, of course.
She had no doubts as to my preferences, however, and what she did was nothing any automaton would do unbidden. They were programmed, primarily, to simulate basic procreative sex. Kinks needed verbal orders. Even eighty years after the Holy Wars most people had pseudo moralistic hang-ups gumming their brains. From the evidence, I didn?t. After a while she squeezed me into the tightest slot of all, then shook and quivered until I reached a heart-stopping release. She matched her final shudder to mine.
"Thank you," I said when I could talk without gasping.
"At your service, Frank."
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