XXXecil's: The CockOut Bk. 01

The Kid would never get laid at this rate. Xavier frowned from the booth where he nursed a martini intended to make him appear fun-loving. But he wasn't here to get wasted. This - watching men trying, and failing to pick up chicks was his job.

One he was normally better at.

His client, a stuttering and pimple-faced ginger IT geek blundered something about 'how did you dye your roots that-that color?" Xavier groaned. Negs had to be delivered with more confidence than that! Had the kid learned nothing from the two-grand he'd spent for the seminar? Leaning back in his chair, brushing his shoulder-length jet-black out of his eyes, Xavier went over in his mind the terms of his no-refunds policy.

Future reference, longer lectures maybe? No... What they needed was experience! Maybe he needed to hire a hot babe during the seminars... to demonstrate the techniques on. Would that help his clients visualize it better?

Still, despite the impending disaster; the hottie his guy was chatting up seemed remarkably patient. She was a perfectly tanned Latina lovely, muscled thighs that seemed to call attention to the sweeping curvature of her ass-tastic posterior endowments jutting from the confined of her fire-engine red cocktail dress. Her tits weren't the biggest he'd ever seen, but their perky perfection sized to cry out for a man's cupping hand to seize them in lust.

The midnight river of her hair so dark it shimmered; and she seemed bemused by ginger-boy's fumbling attempts at seduction, but was not pulling away as Xavier expected.

Yet Xavier was garnering attention of his own. The sizzling eleven on the chauvinistic ten-point beauty scale that hip-swayed up to Xavier's booth could have been Latina-lovely's twin. But she was in the proverbial little-black dress. Too little, to contain those tits, strategically bulging from their scandalous V-neck confines.

"Hi." She cooed.

Exciting as this should have been - Xavier actually wasn't here to get laid himself; the job was coaching newbies in the art form. Yet, the very nature of his business demanded a certain response. She seemed to be eyeing his martini.

"Sorry Pumpkin, I don't buy drinks for strangers, I'm not that easy." he replied with a wry grin.

"That's okay, I just need your opinion..." She beamed. He noticed her face for the first time, sharp - elegant nose, bee-stung lips; silvery eyeshadow contrasting with her deep tan. Definitely on the prowl. And yet - he had to keep an eye on his client's progress! (Or lack thereof)

But that was when Ginger-boy made a failed attempt to build touch-rapport, and spilled his drink down Latina-lovely's cleavage. Horrified; he jumped back as though he had scalded her - but Xavier shook his head: Even that blunder could have been salvaged - had he only appeared confident enough!

But realizing his mistake; Ginger's lip quivered and he actually ran away from the girl and his own shame.

What an amateur! But then... that's why he'd hired Xavier.

"It's like this," 'Pumpkin' continued. "My sisters all say that my Ass isn't big enough! I need a man's opinion!" With that, she turned to present the controversial posterior towards him! The hem of her black dress seemed to rise up of its own accord, permitting Xavier a scandalous vista of bulging buttocks beyond belief, slick and sleek enough to bend the strobing lights of the nightclub upon her bronzelicious skin.

Holy shit... this chick wasn't wearing underwear!

"You like my ass, mister?" She asked with apparent innocence - then in a sultry growl: "I think you'd better touch it. Just to be sure." Hips thrusting to give her rear that extra bounce. "I need to know for sure; that's why I need your hand on my cheeks. Touch me, squeeze me..." her voice lowered to a growl, buttocks settling into a rhythmic jiggle of suggestion. "I need to feel you... feeling meeeeeee!" Pumpkin moaned.

Okay, well - no doubts about it...

"Right Pumpkin, I get that you're a professional; but I'm not in the market tonight. So if you'll excuse me - "He rose and evaded the lurid proposal on display to rejoin his client. No need to be overly polite to a Pro - she knew the score.

Pressing through the seats with Martini in hand, he paid the hooker no more attention.

He found Ginger-boy panting in a corner.

"Okay, I won't pretend that was good; but we can let this be a learning experience," Xavier began. The nerdy client was too nerve-wracked to speak, but simply nodded in acquiescence. "See - if something unexpected happens; you have to show you can step up to the plate, and won't wilt under pressure," Xavier continued. "So if something like that happens again, just run with it! You've got to show more assertiveness if you -"

But his coaching was interrupted...

By Latina-lovely. She'd followed Ginger-boy back to his hiding place.

"I'm sorry; I didn't think we were finished." She announced, hair tumbling over the caramel wonderland of her bare shoulders and jutting cleavage. "What you did to me isn't fair..."

What? Was she coming back to complain? Why not just walk away? Xavier wondered.

"Not fair... to get me so aroussssssed..." The cocktail-dressed marvel purred as she arched her spine, bearing her throat to Ginger-boy in a primal gesture of surrender.

"Y-wh-wh-wh-uh - wah?" Her target stammered. The kid was hopeless. And yet...

"Look at my breasts..." She said in a voice that was more of a demand. That had to be a first! "See how hard my nipples are!" Amazingly, it was true: Her tenting nips were alarmingly blatant through the fabric of her hot red dress. Her arousal on display. "And it's your fault!" She accused her red-headed would-be suitor. "Look what you've done to me!" She continued in mock-outrage. "Feel... what you've done to me!"

She took his shaking hand in his, and pressed it to her amply jutting juggs! The fabric seemed to swim out of the way, and Ginger gave a yelp of surprise as this tan-tastic uber-hottie groped herself with his own hand!

"I can't walk around like this!" She protested; "My nipples so hard; my pussy so wet for you!"

"Wu - who - you - wh- uh - me?"

"Feel my nipples pressing into the palm of your hand; and think about what you've done to me! And how you owe me relief!" With that, she pulled him to his feet - and towards the EXIT!

"Per-FESH-unull!" Xavier hissed through clenched teeth in warning at his charge. But Ginger didn't even hear him - not surprising; given this working girl's aggressive approach.

Oh what the well; the kid had cash to burn, so this could also be a learning experience. Maybe it was time to cash it in. In about an hour, miss hot-thang would demand cash - he'd be shocked, and a lesson would be learned. They'd talk all about it tomorrow.

"I know what you do," Came a familiar voice from behind, once the groping couple had slipped out the back.

He'd had this discussion before.

"Look Pumpkin, I'm not making any promises I can't keep - it's all legal. Not like you're one to talk!" He rolled his eyes.

"Because you think I'm a Prostitute? That was my mistake, I realize." He arched an eyebrow. "You... Xavier Cecilman, you've made a career coaching men that can't find love - teaching them new ways to speak and carry themselves so that women will be impressed."

He raised a finger, prepared to defend himself and his business model.

"I want to be your next client."

"Say what?"

**********

Eight Years Later -

"I have to know for sure;" He insisted for the umpteenth time.

"Waste of time!" January hissed from the passenger seat of the Cadillac, where the former porn star cradled her pregnant belly. But Xavier didn't want to have this argument again with his... partner.

Business partner.

In addition to the excuses he gave about wanting to expand his new operation; well -

Truth is he was missing having other guys to talk to!

Yet as he approached the cement steps leading to the front porch of the modest two-story; there were already tell-tale signs of what was to come.

The surrounding houses - new construction. Expansions. A nearby townhouse was being renovated. They seemed to prefer circular chambers these days. Houses being expanded on a circular floor-plan.

In his heart, he knew the odds. Once a few houses in the neighborhood got this bad, the others wouldn't hold out much longer.

But he had to know for sure.

There was no resistance at the front door - there never was; especially not for a man.

The merest glimpse was enough. Had to be a dozen in the living room, among themselves they were mostly nude. But Xavier didn't stick around to do a head count.

He just shook his head, resolving to leave. No need to even ask, no need to engage them at all.

He tried not to look.

Yet he was noticed; like always.

Only two followed him back out the door - that told you something about the level of Infection.

"Don't leave yet!" She insisted, scampering after him in Lucite high-heels.

He shouldn't have turned to look.

Skin like buttermilk not-quite concealed in a gauzy travesty of an almost bath-robe. Not intending to hide, but to provoke a penetrating gaze. Her hair curled in frolicsome auburn locks around a glamour model face flowing down to cleavage beyond the most generous push-up bras.

"Wait! Don't you know that you can fuck me!?" Her tone incredulous.

"I get it." Xavier replied, even as he realized the danger of engaging them.

"Then where are you going?" The gauzy beauty wondered. Her voice dropped to a growl. "You know... that once you fuck me - you own me!" Her lip quivered as she began to fondle her own feminine melons. Posturing, she bared her body to his lingering gaze. Hands beneath her bosomy assets, she moaned with the need to offer herself to him - a stranger. A man she hadn't even known existed just ten seconds ago.

Yet this glam-tastic beauty goddess was groaning with the urge to surrender her sex to him. Fondling her jiggling assets as if to set an example for his own hands.

"N-not interested!" Xavier stammered; his heightened pulse putting the lie to his words.

"I can feeeel your lust..." she hissed; groping herself. "There's nothing to fear - from fucking me."

And that... was the biggest lie all day, Xavier knew.

"Just bend me over, force me to bear your seeeed... and I'm yours!" There was a part of him that forgot why he should be trying to escape.

Xavier didn't trust himself to speak, it was all he could manage to shake his head.

"You think you know... but you don't," the gauze-draped sexpot continued. "You don't know how much you would enjoy claiming me as your fuck-slave." She knelt down, crawling cat-like towards him, lips reddening - he could see the blush in her cheeks from her throbbing nymphomania.

"Too much pressure," came a cooler voice to his left. She was a black girl, smoothly supermodelish with the complexion of a chocolate-dipped anchor-babe. Her fire-engine red bikini tenting with her aroused nipples. "A man like you... not interested in another commitment. So just use me; just one fuck - just for release. Vent your male urges inside me." Her hands slid up her wide-hipped splendor. "Just sex, just for now."

That... was a lie, and a trap. Xavier didn't say. But it wouldn't stop there; if jaw-dropping beauty wasn't enough, there would be mind-games. They would say...do...become anything. Always experimenting with new ways to get men to fuck them.

"Won't... won't fall for it."

"Fall for what?" Auburn-hair wondered. "I'm promising the best sex you never dreamed possible!" She swayed her hips, hands trailing through her shining locks. "Own me, rule me, sire your seed inside meeeeee..." she breathed.

That was when her skin grew moist. Like body oil; almost on demand a wet rivulet began to trickle between her breasts. That was a clue to what was really going on...

Xavier ran. Back to the car. It could happen with anyone. Any man remotely capable of mustering a hard cock would have gotten the same treatment from those two. For a man like him - it was strangely demeaning.

But it wasn't over yet - he had to find the others. Even though he knew - without going any further, that his old buddy was lost forever.

**********

Eight years ago -

"So there's no mistake..." Pumpkin took a wad of bills out from within her cleavage, and slipped them into Xavier's breast pocket.

"I'm hiring you. To help me with a man."

"Seriously?" A chick looking like this?!? - What was she even doing in this town? With her looks?! Why wasn't she a movie/porn/fashion model/star?

"Tell me the words to say - words that will make you fuck me. What do I have to say to get you to drag me out of this club by my wrist...?" Her voice lowering to a hungry growl. "Take me... into an alleyway, to your car's backseat. Words that will send you out of your mind with desire, words that will get you to slam me hard against the wall - to thrust yourself inside me..." Her lips moving closer - hot breath singing his ears. "So hot and bothered; that you ravage me with your aching shaft - so harrrrd, your need so Hot; that you don't even know whether I enjoyed it."

Her hand was slipping into his pants.

"Tell me what words to say..." Was her cleavage deepening? Where those bronzed globes - constrained by a deliberately too-tight dress firming, ripening, enlarging right in front of him? No... Couldn't be - he was seeing things!

"Wha - I - I'm...' Now Xavier was stammering! "Are you trying to say you're not a... Working Girl?"

"That depends; if being a Prostitute means you won't want to pin me to the wall with your cock - then I'm not a Prostitute." She took an adventurous sip of his Martini. He swallowed.

*********

Eight Years Later...

January's hazel eyes blazed with an implied I-told-you-so. Hand upon her gravid belly - full of Xavier's child. He would focus on driving, didn't want to argue the point with her.

"There *could* still be one left who didn't give in."

"Uh-huh..." Every inch of her porn-star body skeptical.

"But you believe me, don't you? If I can hold out, there could be others!" She pursed her lips... about to speak - but stopped. January needed to believe that he could hold out; she wanted her child to have a father, he realized. To argue too stridently in the negative would put everything into question.

The next house didn't show as many outward signs; but... as soon as Xavier was in the door, he realized his mistake...

The interior walls of this house - not the outer ones had been renovated. It didn't make sense to build separate rooms for separate people - when it was all about one man.

The floor had been rebuilt into a series of circular terraces leading down into a bowl shaped indentation. Pillows and silken sheets draping everything.

And there were women.

Alone, and out of sight of their male victim they were nude. Nude, nubile goddesses of such glamorous perfection, that they simply couldn't be real. No living woman could be so perfectly flawless in her every feature as were these invaders.

But within immediate reach of their target, they adopted a variety of enticing affectations. Jewelry, this bunch preferred. The man at the center was surrounded by dangling tits and cooing lips graced with golden necklaces, filigreed bracelets, and diamond-ish earrings. That was a quirk the invaders had adopted from real women.

What had always surprised Xavier was the fact that the men never got fat. Because so much energy went into his cock.

"Steve-O? Is that you?" But the man in the center no longer responded to his old nickname from his old days as a pick-up artist; he had all the women he could want. The pale, balding former accountant snarled as he arched his hips, pumping from beneath into a freckled redhead, honeydew melon rack jiggling with each orgasmic thrust.

And there were nearly two-dozen others that Xavier could see in this room alone. On either side of him knelt a pair of sunny-blonde fitness models baring perky breasts covered in whip-cream and adorned with suggestive, sliced strawberries. Steve-O howled, shuddering with a thunderous climax that seemed to drag out to the point of absurdity... hell, the way he was coming - he might have filled a soda can; as long as it took for his detonation to finish.

And with good reason.

The redhead ululated her ecstasy, hips shuddering as she slid off... off -

A two-foot sausage of baseball-bat thickness sprang free. And this raging perversion of manhood was still hard. Still aching.

Xavier wasn't sure what was more fucked up; that a cock could be so large - or that these women could take such a beast inside themselves? It was a mutual relationship.

Steve-O reached over with quivering hands, to pluck a whip-creamed strawberry from the left breast of a honey-haired supermodel with a pointed nose.

A coffee-skinned Mediterranean beauty queen moved from the surrounding gallery, cooing as she wrapped her grapefruit-sized boobage around the rampant shaft of her lover-victim; treating his cock as a stripper pole with her undulations, bending the shaft towards her moistened cunt before impaling herself.

The others contributed to the overall ambience.

A milky-skinned Asian with a body for Hentai and unusually plump lips cradled Steve-O's head and whispered something about 'Your virility is god-like...' At the same time, a chestnut-haired cover-girl with high-nippled breasts lavishly kissed his belly, moaning: "You are a god to us, great Sire!"

Steve-O's reply was lost as the coffee-skinned beauty thrust herself upon the outrageous shaft amidst wet slurps of cunt-drenching arousal. It was all he could do to moan with whip-creamed lips.

"Oh...oh... fuck... fuck so good... so...fuck!" Steve-O managed in his eroticized delirium.

And the others postured, hair cascading as they bared their bodies - a queue of sex-crazed sex-kittens each clamoring to be next on the cock.

But others were tending to household chores. Sweeping, dusting, and cooking. A beauty-marked blonde with the face of a movie-star was wiping down a table in the nude, with an absurd French-maid lace bonnet upon her head.

But it wasn't 'so good', despite Steve-O's mutterings. His mutated manhood had become a non-stop sperm factory; and that was the whole point. In the depths of his limitless libido, Steve-O would groan, make a crude hand gesture, and the next achingly erotic glamour-goddess would line up to receive him for yet another insemination; eagerly surrendering to his grunting sexual whims.

Because these weren't women...

Weren't human. Something alien...

- That feasted on sperm.

An apparently well-fed one was reclining on a bean-bag chair, reading a COSMO, with a copy of Playboy on the floor as she fingered her own sex. As she studied the air-brushed lovelies, her hair brightened from raven-black, to burgundy, to platinum blond. The curls whipping about of their own accord into various hairstyles, from Bob-cut, to beehive, to Bun.

She tried out different breasts - too; from high and perky, to heavy and hanging, to conical and erect-nippled. Teasingly, she stuck a finger between her melons as they ripened before Xavier's eyes to completely obscure the finger within a plumping canyon of growing cleavage.

Not Good.

It wasn't good; because now Xavier's buddy would never again work, never travel, never produce anything but cum - never wear pants again. A sex-drive so consuming; all he could do - even think to do was wallow in the pleasure of his harem.

By design.

That was how the aliens wanted it. Every man able to muster a hard cock lounging in ecstasy and feeding them the sperm they needed to survive.

"Would you like one?" Offered a wide-hipped lovely with hair the color of chocolate, she offered a platter of cream-cheese hors'deuvres. She sported an apron which read "FUCK THE CHEF" and nothing else. "Cheese, Quiche, or me?" She offered cheerfully - and sincerely.