XXXECIL's - Cock Out - 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. "I'm.... no, I - don't." Xavier attempted. But his hand reached for - no! He knew better than to eat anything offered by one of them - Greek Myths of the Lotus Eaters came to mind. "You must be under a great deal of stress;" cooed a strawberry-blonde runway model naked except for the chocolate syrup she was squirting from a bottle onto her own delectable tits. "Why don't you take a break for just a moment?" She advanced towards him; his heart pounding with each of her dainty steps. Her face had a Cindy Crawford likeness, but with fuller, bee-stung lips aching to be kissed. And her eyes. They... Xavier wasn't sure what color her eyes were - something about looking into them, they seemed to dance between shades and hues. Something compelling about her eyes. "W-who?" He was having trouble organizing his thoughts. "My name is Passion. My sisters and I are concubines for men's pleasure." Well, that alone told Xavier they weren't human! But there was something wrong, he was having a hard time remembering... "Don't be alarmed by what you see here. Just think about my eyes." The storied orbs danced with subtle colors. "And my body." Passion pushed him to sit down in a cushy chair he hadn't noticed before. She began cooing, those multi-colored eyes staring into his... Gentle hands - seemingly from the cream-cheese waitress began to massage his shoulders. "You know that your pants are too tight," Passion insisted, Strawberry-Blonde hair draping like flaming strands as her delicate hands fumbled with his zipper. "T-too tight?" Xavier murmured; lost in the flashing pools of color within her eyes. "So much better to have your dick free... your beautiful dick!" She drawled, stroking his face, smile angelic. "D-dick...." Xavier echoed without thinking - those eyes... "Your dick is too large, too powerful to fit into pants like these. Wouldn't you prefer the feeling of a beautiful woman's hands on your shaft?" her eyes boring into his, her head nodding; Xavier mirroring her own motions. "Don't you want my slender fingers pumping your shaft? That's what you want; isn't it?" "Pump... shaft," Xavier moaned - still trying to figure out her eyes... "You like the idea of a massive cock, so hard... long... you're hard for me, I can feeeeel it. Feel your manhood." Passion purred, Xavier's face between her hands. Those eyes - something... strange. "Look into my eyes, and feel your dick getting harder, and harder." Looking into her swirling eyes, it was as though he saw some miraculous secret of the universe, only to forget it immediately, compelling him to keep staring. "Your dick is soooo hard! Full and throbbing and bigger." One hand moved to tease his errant shaft. "When your dick is as hard as this, there's no need for pants." Passion argued. "N-need?" Something was wrong... but her eyes - "A hard dick needs to be freeee...." She cooed. "That's what's wrong with your society." "Wrong?" Something was certainly strange; but Xavier couldn't remember it. Just those eyes... "You are a virile male." Passion purred, bringing her lips closer. "Your society has males and females in close quarters, and you don't fuck them." "Fuck..." Her hands; her eyes... felt so good. "No, because you're afraid of hurting her. That's a mistake." She declared. "When you see a fertile female, your cock gets soooo harrrrd...." She drew out the last sound with grit in her voice. "Fertile..." "Yessss.... like me. My hips are wide, my skin so smooth and soft, my breasts so firm, and ripe and suckable. It's natural to want to pin me to the wall and fuck your sperm into meeeee..." She suggested; a kaleidoscopic gleam dazzling. "So natural; to slam your dick into meeee..." She cooed, stroking, caressing... letting the words sink in. "Because my body is beautiful; not just my eyes, but my lips. See how rich, full and plump my lips are? Like a mashed strawberry. Sooo kissable. You want to kiss these lips, don't you?" Xavier moaned, making a puckering motion. "As sweet as that would be, even better would be to force my lips onto your cock!" She suggested. "I know your nature, you want to face-fuck me!" "Face-fuck..." He drawled in his delirium. "The need... to grab me by the hair, and press these lips - this mouth onto your dick. And you get to cum. And cum all you want." Xavier shuddered with delight. "My sisters and I represent freedom. A man's freedom to feel his dick hardening; and seize any woman he pleases, to force his sperm into her. Freedommmm..." her voice lowering to a growl. "You want to sire your seed, into every woman you can grab!" His hands tightened around her hips. "Freeee your dick!" "Wanna... be free..." he murmured as his pulse raced. "Your dick is beautiful; even more than my tits. You love my breasts, don't you?" The mammalian spheres dangled tantalizingly. "See how high, full, and perky my breasts are?" Xavier gurgled. "Look at the rivulets from the chocolate syrup as they flow around and between my breasts. See how chocolatey my nipples have become?" "Nipple..." He answered with a groan. "Let your hands travel across my body, my wide hips, smooth skin, and my ripe breasts." She offered with a low growl. "You crave my body; I'm your type. Just the type of woman you want to bear your seed." "Seeeed." Felt so good. "My breasts can talk." Passion informed him, continuing her hypnotic bombardment. "Looking at them, touching them will tell you how fertile I am, how ripe my body is for your sperm." Her voice dropped to a manic whisper - eyes swirling in mind-bending sarabande. "Let's make a bargain;" The Strawberry-Blonde seducer offered. "You get to suck my chocolatey boobs allllll you like," She blew a hot breath against his throat. "And I get to suck your cock." "Cock?" That seemed fair. But there was something important Xavier was forgetting; something about her eyes... "Get rid of your silly pants, and stick your dick between my full, red, kissable lips..." As the Cindy-Crawford-esque beauty slithered over him, two others - a dusky brunette and the same freckly redhead that had just gotten inseminated minutes ago came to either side of him, cooing, caressing his hair. "Then you can cum," Passion promised, her finger tracing the line of his chin. "Mate with herrrr," Cooed the girls on either side of Xavier. "Mate with meee...All the women you wannnnnnt," Purred the waitress/chef as she cushioned her breasts against Xavier's shoulder. "Fuck your seed inside herrrr..." "Cum in my mouth as I suck your glorious cock!" Passion offered. "Cummmmm!!!" Xavier grunted, pulse throbbing as his hands began to plunder the curvy contours of his lusty abductor. "And I can tell..." She added, "That you've enjoyed us before! Why stop now?" Why stop now? "FUCK...SEED... INSIDE HERRRR!!!" Ironically, it was their previous captive that saved Xavier. For the moment, all the women near Steve-O had been inseminated; and were lounging in contentment; but their victim could not be satisfied. Apparently, the dirty-talk had backfired. Steve-O let out a roar of primal lust; if anything his two-foot dick was even harder, hornier from his virile exertions, and he surged upwards. His center of gravity was fucked up (literally) and he loped like an ape up the terrace of his remodeled living-room harem, his cock dangling, anchored to what seemed like a pair of bowling balls, his male apparatus mutated beyond all reason to gratify the alien's ongoing need for more and more human sperm. Steve-O snatched Passion by her hips; with a wolf-like howl as he plunged his fleshy torpedo into her confines with a lurid slurp. Her own squeal was a match to his desire. That snapped Xavier out of his trance; the certain knowledge of the price for temptation. The chocolate-dipped alien whore had over-played her hand; trying to seduce Xavier, her words had sent her current stud into a fever pitch. But the distraction allowed Xavier to regain his senses. Unlike Steve-O, who didn't even seem aware of the newcomer; all that mattered was blasting his seed into the women of his harem. Not women. An alien plague. Trying to stuff himself back into his jeans, Xavier scrambled for the door; shocked at how close he'd come to succumbing to them. Out in the car, he ignored January's grumblings; he wouldn't let her know how close he'd come. That house had almost become a double-harem. But January didn't grumble for long; she'd switched on the car radio: ".... Radio Free Earth; exposing the secrets of the Invasion!" rasped a quavering female voice. "Men think that these creatures are their loyal servants; but they are Loyal only to their most probable source of sperm! We know this much about their physiology; the alien's cell machinery is unable to produce their own DNA effectively. For all their powers, they perish without a ready source of genetic material - and uh ... copulation with men is the easiest strategy..." "Ugh... heard it all before." Xavier complained. "Maybe you need to be reminded of the dangers!" January countered, turning up the volume. "... perfectly adapted to absorb sperm to sustain themselves! For them, Sex *IS* life!" The female announcer's voice seemed to teeter between exasperation and disgust. "Living only so long as they seduce a male donor on a regular basis, a competitive ecology has emerged where this new lifeform must evolve to seduce." "Can't we listen to NPR, or something?" Xavier complained. "You wanna go harem shopping, I get to pick the radio station!" "That's not what I..." but he shook his head. Not much point arguing. "...from an ancestral shape-shifter, they've speciated right in front of us! Evolving biological weapons as the need for increasingly scarce men accelerates the competition between different Strains. Sirens may be the most dangerous, with their ability to resonate directly with a man's pleasure centers; but any Free Men out there have to be concerned about the Medusa strain. It's the eyes; they're able to generate a hypnotic pattern that disables human reasoning faculties -" Xavier switched off the radio with trembling fingers. "It won't take long..." "No, it won't take long at all..." She responded cryptically. For them to seduce him? He didn't ask. ********** I should have known better than to hold out hope for G-Man, as the car parked outside his residence, and I timidly approached the door. Maybe it was more than just checking on old buddies in the hopes of them joining my business... A part of it was closure. Despite bitter experience, I was hopeful that the interior of the house looked... almost normal. Without the circular renovations the large harems preferred. But then I heard noise from the place where the backyard should be. It was a fairly large dwelling; dare I imagine that G-Man had been this successful on his own? But the backyard... had been replaced. It was not only a swimming pool, there were fountains, and a terraced patio adorned with two Jacuzzis. All for the pleasure of a single man. An onlooker could be forgiven for believing that Xavier's old buddy had somehow been awarded his very own, permanent swimsuit pageant in his yard. Apparent-women strutted and sashayed for his entertainment; when they weren't slithering through the bubbling froth of the hot tubs to regale their man with cooing kisses. But the illusion didn't last long. A busty blonde with a quarter-bouncing ass ran her fingers through her hair - which flashed into a fluorescent green electric color. Venus-Strain. Xavier knew their history - Descended from the same lineage that produced the Medusas. But Venuses had been thought limited to Latin America; but nothing would deter the quest for cock. But the more they succeeded; the more men they needed. This Strain was mostly flash and vanity; they out-beautied the competition with showy colors and festive behavior that other aliens had real difficulty emulating. They were a new species, evolving to compete by dispensing with human limitations in their appearance. Like fairy-land princesses kicked out for starring in hardcore. Flowing hair shimmered from darker, natural hues to ocean-blue, iridescent violet, to sunset red, bikini-clad bodies sparkling with the appearance of embedded glitter. Their Medusa cousins could stupefy a man close enough to look her in the eye, but a Venus could lure him in from afar. But either way, G-Man was doomed. Black men had been the first to disappear from public life in large numbers. The Scientists called it Libidovenom. Alien survival ensured. Just one fuck. Where was the harm? Nothing bad happened from screwing them; at first. But every little bit added up - death by a thousand cuts. You fuck one of them, your dick gets bigger. Never fails. Just a bit at a time. And of course, your sex drive amps up. And it feeeels good. Too good, Xavier knew. By the time a guy realizes the danger, it's too hard to resist. The throbbing hunger for pussy burns hotter than a high-school football team on Viagra. All too soon, every guy reaches his tipping point. G-Man's had come relatively quickly. He couldn't even close his legs from the girth of his mutated male apparatus; his meter-long manhood stood a good chance of impregnating a whale; as he shuddered his ecstasy on an inflatable raft, surrounded by swimming lovelies at every turn. Black men tended to be the first to Cock Out. Even had Xavier been able to get his old friend's attention; no pants in the world could fit him, much less the vagina of a human girl. But the Alien shape shifters could eagerly accommodate a cock that should have pulverized the insides of the loosest whore; with nothing but howling delight. Lost to humanity as surely as a victim of any plague of the past - welcome to the new epidemic. Xavier noticed a pattern to this harem; coffee or chocolate-skinned females, with a white girl thrown in at about a 1-5 ratio. Not unlike the most lurid rap music video in history. Aliens... adapting to the deepest cravings of their male target. A Caramel-colored hottie rolled her ass-cheeks as she gyrated upon the impaling potency of G-man's mutated member. Could be a stand-in for Jennifer Lopez in the right light; and until her jiggling G-cups bounced into view. Her dose of sperm sent her moaning in a narcotic ecstasy, as she slid off G-man; only to be replaced by an eye-shadowed she-devil with a rippling mane of hot-pink hair. Sexual madness that ended only with utter exhaustion; until their male victim was awakened by his own thermonuclear libido, to begin cycling through his harem all over again. But this time, there would be a surprise. The J-Lo knock off began groaning, as she struggled to emerge from the pool, then collapsed; clutching her belly. Xavier already knew what had to happen: The Alien had completed her life-cycle. Her belly distending into a rapid parody of pregnancy; breasts blossoming to match, rivulets of narcotic milk moistening the tantalizing tips of her nipples. Arching her spine, breath heaving - she rainbowed through the entire spectrum of colors, as her shape-shifting powers went into high-gear. But she wasn't giving birth - in the human sense. Soon, her gravid womb was larger than nine-months, full and throbbing with navel-popping life. Then, it began to contract. Tightening, sucking in. The dome of her womb began to shape itself... arms and legs in a fetal posture. Before his eyes, the pregnant belly took the shape of a huddled figure, and hair sprouted. Movement, a surge and a kick. The protean body of the Mother had now recast herself until there were two younger girls, joined at the navel! Hair and faces shifting in a rush of unformed identities, until the struggling pair pushed apart. Separating into a pair of pregnant teenagers; each shape-shifted into a different girl from their mother. Both moaned as they clutched their gravid bellies; neither seemed senior to the other. The Mother had become her own children, now that she had absorbed enough genetic material from a male donor. The twins caressed their bodies in orgasmic aftershocks as their bulging wombs shrank down into tight, teenaged perfection. Now, there were two. Two breast-augmented cheerleaders nude and yearning to be fucked. Identical, the girls had exceptionally long eyelashes, and raven-dark cascading hair glittering with multicolored sparkles that accented seeming-eyeshadow that rotated through the cooler color spectrums. "Getting crowded, Sister." The one on the right replied. An unspoken understanding passed between the aliens, and the sister on the left crawled towards me. "Concubine. The Word. It burns inside me," She bemoaned; violet eyes pleading. "My name is Kitten; A concubine. A vessel for a man's pleasure. His Possession; used and dominated by my Man! Hungering... for a man like you!" I backed away, wondering why I hadn't escaped sooner. "Cum in me, and you own me. I want to be yours!" Xavier shook his head, not trusting his voice. "It'll be different for you, better for you! I need a real man!" Kitten held out graceful arms seeking embrace as her sister lined up to await a chance at G-man's cock. "I need you!" Kitten pleaded. When that didn't work - "I'll serve you! I'll fuck you! Make me your plaything!" Her nymphomaniacal desperation was... alien. "Don't leave! I know you want me! You craaaaaave women! You can have your desire! All the women you want!" Twelve days. The scientists had worked out the math. With a little regular food to add mass, if she got a good dose of sperm every day for twelve days; that could be enough - unless she exerted herself. That was enough for an alien to Natalize. Replicating into younger progeny that retained mom's knowledge. Harem gets big enough; the newbies split off, try to seduce men of their own. A Demographic Doomsday one orgasm at a time. "You want bigger tits! I can do that! Look at me; my boobs - they're growing larger right in front of you!!" Kitten alerted him, as he turned his back to her. "You WANT big tits! I know it! Look, look at the way my titflesh bulges between my fingers as they grow! Bigger than apples; getting close to grapefruit size! Look at them grow! Don't you want to see!? See how big my tits are!" Never. He dare not look. Dare not see how big her tits were. G-man, face buried in the tits of a peacock-green haired surreal sex-goddess, took no notice of the concubine he'd almost lost, amidst the tantalizing tangle of feminine bodies. He could only gurgle as his latest climax detonated. ********** He wanted to carry on, but decided to be cagier. Sure, January could pull me out if need be; but the last thing Xavier wanted was the nagging that would result. Still, he had high hopes for Jacque. When the true nature of the invasion became clear to my old community of pick-up artists, he'd always assured me that the kind of mindless eternal orgy the aliens promised just wasn't his cup of tea. Jacque always favored classy types - plus the Chase was everything. Xavier used to think so. He found himself on the verge of Chasing Jacque himself, walking under his own power through the front door of an art-deco style home. And yet; He had his suspicions. Instead of barging in the front door, better to case the joint. So Xavier stealthily slinked around the windows. No worries about the cops being called for a Peeping Tom; the few police left had neither the patience nor manpower for any kind of public decency enforcement. And there, in the window looking into the kitchen, He saw Jacque. A smile was about to cross Xavier's face when... Jacque's own face melted. The wiry baldness of the forty-ish fellow blended into a new form reminiscent of a transformation scene from a Michael Jackson video from way back in '91. Business suit melting back into smooth, feminine flesh. That was how they'd spread so far, so fast. The Aliens copied the men they'd replaced in the outside world. Their victims writhed in fuck-madness back in a seraglio, while alien Doppelgangers assumed their public identities; unless and until the chance for sperm outweighed the risk of discovery. Otherwise, each of them began as female. SheMorphs. That was the name on everyone's lips. For the entire alien order of life that had come out of nowhere. The name that would have been spoken on the radio had Xavier listened longer. Verb and Noun. His friend from the old days had been replaced by a toned fitness model with coppery hair bouncing in playful ringlets. She swayed her hips in pleasure at resuming her true state. But it seemed the party would have to wait. The next window (A very large window) revealed the rounded chamber he'd expected, but there was no orgy: The real Jacque was exhausted. His baseball-bat cock was half-limp, and his eyelids seemed to flutter in a hypnotic trance. One of his lover-captors would whisper something; he would whisper back - while a gang of them crowded around. There were numbers. Mundane descriptions. It was daily life. When a man's mutated cock grew too large for him to ever move around in public; the SheMorphs seemed able to post-hypnotically ply him for intimate knowledge of his work and world as his body recovered from sweat-drenched hours of explosive ejaculation. Until he awakened finally - dick first. Meanwhile, they would mimic him, with none the wiser. Except Xavier. Wiser? Wise enough to know the dangers. Hmm.... what Strain was this? The women were of a variety of shades and ethnicities; but all shared eyes of a striking cobalt-blue. Very distinctive. Charybdis. They shared a common ancestor with the often feared Siren Strain. They would be less dangerous at a distance; He should be fine so long as he didn't get a blowjob from any of them. But for the men who went willingly into their insatiable embrace; the captivity was absolute. Those not listening to Jacque's hypnotized narrative sat around in the nude, reading.... reading? Poetry. Classical History. Philosophy? That must have been his weakness. Moaning nymphos would not have truly captivated this man; he wanted more out of a woman. And the SheMorphs had delivered. A few, or just one - had figured him out; become what she needed to. What he needed. Now he was damned. Xavier saw it all, through this long window that took up nearly half the wall in this bedroom. Even as he watched in morbid fascination; a bathroom door opened amidst a gush of steam. A voluptuous bombshell-blonde fantasy strode forth, nudity moistened by wet rivulets from the shower, her aquiline face somehow still bearing the appearance of mascara and blush. Against the curving wall stood what should have been a spice-rack, but which instead held an array of rubbery, doubled-ended dildoes, seemingly well-used. Unceremoniously, the Bombshell grabbed a thick, black instrument and impaled her own hungry cunt with the false shaft. Moaning, fingering her high-nippled F-cups as she did so. A nut-brown she-devil of apparent Indian descent cooed as she approached, kissing Bombshell's other nipple. The two nuzzled each other as though to commune in some secret language with lesbianism as a vocabulary. Their stud drained for the moment; the sexual beings took to other means to gratify their relentless urges. The brown girl could have been India's Miss Universe contestant; had her breasts been smaller. But here, she was content to take the dildo in hand, and work with lurid vigor into the drenching cunt of her moistened sister, as the Bombshell backed into the wall, birthing hips swaying with the raw, feminine pleasure of this phallic violation. Perhaps it was the sucking sound of Bombshell's cunt being reamed; the wet sound that told the story of how soaked with arousal her pussy was - but Xavier had reached his limit. "Shit! Back in the day; horny old men would've paid top dollar for this kind of action!" But those frustrated men had no use for porn in today's world: They were living it. That did it. Xavier had been confronted with a never-ending deluge of feminine pulchritude these days; yet this lusty display affected him like a teenager stealing a Playboy for the first time. And they knew it. Twenty cobalt-blue eyes suddenly riveted on the corner where he was spying on the proceedings. Shit; the legends were true - SheMorphs had a Sixth sense; a Sex-sense. When your life depended on dick, it made sense to sense it. Some SheMorphs; they would change in the presence of a probable male target - bigger boobs, tighter clothes - or ripe, cherry-red lips. Each girl's mouth grew pouty, redder, kissable. But it was worse than it seemed; He knew. Xavier had to assume that each SheMorph in the house immediately knew that a man was lurking by the southeast window on the first floor. An Aroused man. Apparently, they really could sense when your cock was hard. It turns out that the windows for this SheMorph house could open in sections; and Xavier found himself longing for the days when women actually resented Peeping Toms. They gauged his mood. "Please don't run!" entreated a supermodelish black beauty with eyebrows like wings in flight. Her naked, chocolatey breasts dangled like cocoa-covered melons in the air. "This man has a rare, medical condition!" Explained the Indian dildo girl. "We're... nursing him!" Was that the latest lie? They WERE the 'condition', a plague. "I'm not even thinking about sucking your dick," denied the blonde bombshell as she climbed gracefully out the window, one sculpted leg at a time. "It's alright;" assured a freckled red head with the largest tits of the group. "We can just talk." Her lips plumped as she spoke. "I'm not thinking about running my tongue along the tender underside of your cock head..." "...Until you cum in my mouth, in spurt after glorious spurt," finished Black Beauty. "We're not thinking that at all," The Blonde affirmed. "We can talk. Be friends. We like to read." She held her hands out gingerly, as one might behave towards a skittish kitten. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, Xavier surmised. "Uhhh..." Four naked women, baring their fuckable bodies in broad daylight, trying to keep *him* from being afraid! Was this how it began with Jacque? Did they befriend him? Act intellectual? Build trust? Until he let his guard down enough? Allowed them to unzip his pants - to suck his cock within those ruby ripe lips glistening with damnation? Until he Came. And Came again. Until the orgasms consumed him. Swallowed by Charybdis. "N-no, I won't let you suck my dick. I won't allow it..." Pants tightening, chest heaving. "You won't?" The Indian girl sidled up to the Voluptuous Blonde, licking her earlobe. "You're not interested in a blowjob from my sister here? Her name is Luscious. You don't want Luscious' lips to kiss the head of your cock?" "You don't want to feel my plump lips sliding up your dick, as the back of my throat ripples against your rigid shaft?" Luscious wondered with a facetious grin. "You don't want to grab my head," Black Beauty began, "Piston me against your dick as you lose yourself to the wet swirling within my mouth?" "... As you allow the pleasure to wash over you; face-fucking me as my flickering tongue bathes your rod in liquid pleasure?" Luscious queried, hips swaying. Next, the red head with boobs like honeydew melons sashayed closer. "So you have no interest in my mouth gulping air around your cock to produce contrasting sensations; as my lips slide back and forth along everrrrry inch of your moistened shaft?" Her wide eyes made her seem almost innocent. "You won't allow that?" Xavier bolted. Nothing more to see here. "Don't Run!" Luscious pleaded. "We don't have to deep-throat your cock!" “- or swirl your dick with my tongue until you explode with cum!" Black Beauty added. "We'll TALK!" It all added up; the dildoes. The Windows. They would flaunt their bodies whenever they could; able to detect in an instant the lusting glance of a man they needed to survive. There was a copse of trees out back, good place to get lost - and to bump into January... "Oh! There you are! I'm so proud of you!" Xavier's partner wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her pregnant belly brushing against his. Her wide-eyed, dimpled smile radiant as ever. "You're a good man; with real integrity!" She assured him. "I am..." she punctuated her compliments with kisses to Xavier's chest. “So glad... to have a husband like you!" She smiled impishly, hands cupping his balls. "I.... wanna go down on you!" Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, tugging at his pants. "Yeah... thing is," Xavier paused. "I never actually married you." "What?" January looked up from her efforts at his zipper. "Miss January; an actual, prize-winning Playmate hung out to dry when our world was invaded by porn stars who would fuck any man for his sperm. Nowadays; a girl worth a million-dollar modeling contract can't even get a guy to open a door for her. Even after making headlines for toppling a U.S. Representative in a saucy sex-scandal." Xavier mused. "What does it matter? Today, any man who wants it can live out his days surrounded by supermodel sex-bombs aching to suck his dick." 'January' moaned with yearning at that thought. "But that's not what you want?" came a new, yet familiar voice. And there were two January's. One much madder than the other. The 'original' shrugged sheepishly. "You lying, man-stealing whore!" The newcomer accused with pointed finger. "Your whore!" She turned back to Xavier, from where she knelt on the ground. "Or your wife, lover, or fuckslave." "Just tell me what you want me to beeeee..." She crooned, her features blending like a Hollywood special-effect. She was a platinum blond with a bob-cut, wiry nude body. "Any kind of woman," Plumper, with bigger tits. "Whatever you dream of!" A pale, hauntingly elegant Asian." Xavier could tell that she was trying out various bodies, gauging what shape would most arouse him. "I prefer honesty." Xavier answered, wrapping an arm around the real January. The creamy redhead kneeling before him SheMorphed again into a caramel-colored Eva Mendes look alike, fresh from a makeup commercial, but with bigger boobs. "We won't hurt you; never hurt a man. Please..." The gorgeous goddess pleaded. "Just let me suck your cock! You have no idea how sweet it would be!!" Arms outstretched, skin glistening with lust. It all made sense. These aliens didn't seem to be.... evil. They were just hungry; which was the same as being horny. Nothing was off limits. "Just one blowjob!" She pleaded. "I just wanna suck your dick until you have the best orgasm of your life...in my mouth!" They would say, Do, Become, Anything, or anyone for the chance to suck his cock. Or anyone else's. But as they sped away, Xavier caught a glimpse in the rear view mirror of the achingly blond SheMorph Luscious standing in the middle of the street. Nude. Horny. Licking her lips at him. ********** END BOOK 1 **********