The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Exotix Bar

(located in a small parasite dimension illegally attached to reality by questionable methods....)

It’s Monday morning, and I wake up chained to a wall in the milking parlor. I guess I must have had a few too many Succubus Juice Slushies on Friday.

Ok, I know you are thinking cows, but that’s a different sort of establishment entirely. In this place it’s succubae they milk, usually the succubae are ex-customers who’ve had one too many and have been transformed into the source of their favorite drink. I’m different, I can get over my hangovers...eventually.

I’m Cupid Boy by the way... ok, my real name is Doug Saunderson...but I think the whole secret identity thing is kewl, so you can call me Cupid boy or Mr. Cupid.

Carefully, I check my crotch and nipples. good! No lingering female characteristics this time, my healing factor’s doing fine; which is kind of a relief, I have a drinking problem, I admit it.

I know it must have been quite a bender because I must have found time to have my legs waxed and my crotch hair trimmed...Succubae, even temporary ones, don’t normally have time to do that.

Glancing at the wall opposite I can see that that evil fucker Elvis won’t be bothering customers again. He... Now she... has obviously drunk one too many Slushies and is now a permanent resident in the milking parlor.

Like the other succubae Elvis is quite happy riding her milking pole, her juices dribbling down the phallus’ grooved sides and into the collection trough. Elvis won’t try to escape, her new top priority is to get fucked anyway she can, and the milking pole is the nearest cock shaped thing.

“Hey! Barkeep!” I yell.

Now that I no longer have a venomous vagina, I figure I don’t need to be restrained and can get on with my life.

The succubae hear my teenage male voice and become agitated, they like their milking poles but a genuine male, even a young looking one, would be a real treat for them. Fortunately they are chained or they’d be squeezing their tit-venom at me.

“Keep it down you little fucker!” growled Barkeep from the door, sounding pissed about something.

“Come on Barkeep! Lemme out.”

He stomps toward me, still looking annoyed.

“You owe me Douglas.”

Uh oh, he’s using my real name, not good, not good.

“What?” I reply with a weak ‘I’m innocent’ sort of laugh.

“Does the name Jeffery Lopez ring any bells?”

“J-Lo? That actor guy who thinks he can sing?”

“Yeah, the ex-actor guy... see anyone here you recognize Douglas.” says Barkeep looking meaningfully at an exceptionally fine succubus squirming on her pole.

“I didn’t...”

“You did. And his Manager is not happy; he’s having to sell the idea of a female action hero to Warner Brothers and is busy ordering a redesign of the cover for J-lo’s album.”

“Umm I don’t think he’s in any condition to do acting; other than bedroom scenes of course. Still, his singing voice will have improved” I jest weakly

“Not funny; and that’s not your real problem Cupid Boy. Your real problem is that Mr J-Lo’s Manager is ‘Family’. You now owe The Big Guy a favor.”

“The Big Guy?” I say pointing downward nervously

“The other Big Guy” replied Barkeep pointing upward and making a cross sign.

“Oh Boy”

Naturally my fucking friends thought it was fucking hilarious and make Big Guy jokes for, like, weeks. Fortunately The Big Guy doesn’t seem interested. But then the guys hit me with ‘He works in mysterious ways’ and I’m worried again.

Who are my so-called friends you ask?

Well there’s Mark the carnivorous Yucca plant, Morph, who looks like a giant erection and does impressions, Lambourne the ex-pony, Phil the Were-Hypnotist, you all know; Max and Buzz our ‘B-men’....and Vic the lizard boy of course. Good guys all of them.

So anyway, I guess you don’t know much about me yet either... I used to be your typical teen, then about six months ago I grew these wings. Turns out I’m a Cupid, I’m told most Cupids look about twelve years old, I guess I got lucky and was late maturing, I look fifteen and I have a genuine birth certificate says I’m eighteen.

On the down side within two weeks of growing wings I’d been chucked out of school and my mom had called an exorcist; fucking cheerleader bitches!

On the upside I now look really fit and everyone lusts after my newly perfect body. I also don’t need to pay for shit anymore, people just smile and give me what I need as a gift...mostly.

So, its a few weeks later, and I’d, like, totally forgotten about owing The Big Guy a favor.

Me and Phil were drinking at the bar when Morph shows up looking kind of flustered. Morph’s the one that looks like a 6ft tall erection remember.

“Dougy, Phil, I have a small job for you, If you’re interested.” he says quickly in a nervous sort of way, he doesn’t even do his mission impossible-Mr. Phelps impression, which was odd.

“My Dad has asked me to get a package delivered to Genon Corporation, trouble is it can’t be me that delivers it. Genon have detectors and I’m persona-non-grata with them.”

Me and Phil glance at each other, this is a bit of a surprise, Morph never talks about his family and usually comes across as a tough guy. Right now he sounds about my age and shit scared about something. Still, Morph’s a mate and I owe him a favor after that business with the soul eating cheerleaders.

“Ok” I say. After all this is simple.. right?

First problem, we are in Orlando, Genon Corp is based in New York, In the Genon building no less, the one that casts a shadow on the Chrysler building.

Second problem, it’s a full moon tomorrow. Phil needs to be out hypnotizing men and feeding on their cum... He tells me he once ‘Were’—ed out on a plane and hypnotized all the passengers turning them all into his personal slaves. He says it took nearly six months to find new jobs for all of them and was damn lucky the pilot compartment was locked.

So, there I am overnight guarding the package waiting for Phil to finish drinking the Orlando swim team’s cum. Ok, I admit it, I did break the seal on that vial of green stuff, I just wanted to see what it was that was so important...I was bored Ok?

Next day we fly, we don’t bother with tickets. I have this ability, I call it un-visibility, anyone near me will just turn and stare lustfully at my butt-naked all-over tan and, like, completely forget that I’m there; it’s pretty much a biological ‘access all areas pass’. We decide to sit at the back of the plane, no point flying with distracted pilots.

Naturally we had fun during the flight, Phil picked out a few fit looking guys to add to his collection and I played matchmaker.

I have these two ducts in my arms you see, they can shoot darts tipped with a lust venom. I just pick a likely couple, dart them up and watch the floor show. Given Phil’s preference for boys I focus on their ex-girlfriends creating a small lesbian legion.

Now I could go into graphic detail about each and every pair but I’ll limit it to describing just the one...as, like, an example of my work.

Phil was balanced with his feet on the seat-rests, crouched over his chosen boy, his trusty pocket watch drifting back and forth in front of the sleepy looking Mediterranean guy. His girlfriend, a Moslem, complete with burka and headscarf was ignoring this, her head twisted around so that she could look at me through her eye slit with those pretty dark eyes.

Down the corridor comes a stewardess; my influence doesn’t quite reach all the way to the front of the jumbo so I have a nervous moment. Fortunately she doesn’t notice anything wrong until she’s within range. The stewardess slows down and stops, her eyes running over my pure white wings and my perfect physique; without realizing it she licks her lips, clearly imagining what my Mr. 9 inch might taste like.

I can’t have her wandering in and out of my influence so I quickly shoot her with one of my little love darts, aiming the other at the pretty Arab girl.

My mental senses catch the bright flash of love forming between the two girls. The stewardess’ uniform is of course designed to be lusted over, it shows everything. The first physical sign I see is twin nipples forming two bullet-like protuberances in the tight pink of the uniform jacket. Next she runs her hands down her sides until they reach the hem of her mini-skirt. Slowly she pulls her skirt up exposing old-fashioned suspenders and white thong panties that are already damp.

Jackpot. I think, giving Mr. 9 inch his first ‘rub-down’ of the day.

Meanwhile the Moslem girl seems almost to be resisting the power of love, almost; finally, she breaks.

“In god’s name there can be no sin in this!” she says.

Ok, she actually said it in Arabic, one of the advantages of being a winged X-men type mythical dude is that I can understand any language...can’t speak ‘foreign’ worth a damn though; I rely on the old fall back of speaking slow and loud when trying to tell a foreigner shit.

She stands and pulls loose a knot on her head-to-toe Burka thing.

Woh! So that’s how it works.

The Burka unravels and forms a heap of blue cloth surrounding her feet. She’s naked, no underclothes, no bra, no chemise, nadda, nothing. From deep brown ankles up shapely, legs and thighs around smoothly rounded hips and almost hour glass torso... she... is... totally... naked.

I have an instinct; I knew she’d be hotter than hot even before I shot her. Even Phil is distracted from his in-flight meal to take a look.

Kinky Arabians, all that ‘mustn’t show off the goods’ and its all really just a candy-wrapper.

Snikt!

That was the sound of the stewardess’ thong elastic snapping. Arabian Girl knows what to do about that and is soon on her knees cute little nose buried deep in pussy her tongue licking stewardess’s labia... interesting technique, I must try that sometime.

Stewardess is busy too, one hand is buried in Arabian’s hair, holding her in position, the other is fumbling with pink buttons that will soon reveal her bra and soft white breasts.

“Hey Britney! What on earth are you doing, honey?” says a voice at the far end of the plane.

It’s the airline steward, the stereotypical gay one; the sort that might get a straight guy in the mile-high club by the back door. For an instant I’m alarmed, he’s way down the other end of the plane, a tricky shot for my love-darts.

Fortunately Phil is on the case. His head snaps up sniffing the air and then he bounds down the aisle, kind of like Tarzan (in that cartoon), running on all fours.

“Fiforthreetwoo-one Sleee!” the cry of a Were-Hypnotist, turning a free-willed human into an entranced fuck-toy; And that’s that, no struggle, no resistance.

Our Steward follows Phil obedient as a puppy dog to the galley, where, after a while I can hear a rythmic clang of metal against metal.

Meanwhile our Stewardess has wrapped one leg over Arabian’s shoulder to give her lover better access. She’s still wearing the jacket and bra, but both now hang open revealing impressive breasts and a cute little tattoo.

Arabian’s not finished though, she replaces her mouth with three fingers and begins licking slowly upward, cleaning the stewardess’ belly button with her tongue before moving upward, leaving a glistening tongue trail between the stewardess’ breasts, up her to her chin and then on into a deep deep kiss.

I can see the stewardess’ eyes rolling up into her head, my love darts are severely potent and she’s near the edge.

A few moments later they both cry out in ecstasy, backs arching. Looks like Stewardess also has good fingering technique, both slump to the deck totally spent.

Conveniently orgasm is usually accompanied by blissful sleep. This is good as it usually allows me to leg it. Obviously that’s trickier on a long flight but Phil can hypnotize away any inconvenient memories.

Five minutes later Phil appears a wide grin on his face.

“You missed a bit”

“Oops, sorry, guess I’m a sloppy eater” he grins licking up the dribble of spunk that missed had his mouth.

“What’s got you so happy anyway?”

“Double cream, that Steward hadn’t jacked off for, like, a week; said he was saving it for his boyfriend”

“So, what’s next?”

“I figure, watch the movie and then a quick snack before we land”

“Sounds like a plan”

And that’s pretty much how it went, before you know it we’re in Newark airport looking for a taxi.

The Taxi turned out to be a problem. New York Cabbies, like Cheerleaders, turn out to be a non-human species. They are immune to my un-visibility effect and want real money...which is tricky given that I’m naked and therefore don’t have anyplace I’d want to store cash.

Phil scowls and digs into his own meager supply. I promise him that I’ll find him a nice gay hotel in the Village by way of compensation; that goes down well enough.

The Genon Building

Next day, after Phil’s visited a few guests for an early breackfast, we head uptown and there we are in front of the Genon Building. Judging by the holes in the grime, this used to be ‘Yakatomi Plaza’ before Genon moved in.

Phil is acting spooked in a ‘Were-ish’ sort of way, sniffing the air and repeatedly opening and closing his pocket watch.

“Will you just stop” Says I

“Sorry. Look lets just deliver Morph’s shit and get the fuck out. This place stinks of something rare.”

By ‘rare’, he means some sort of creature not covered by the Good vs. Evil Armistice. People like me, Phil and whatever is in there are unconstrained because the Big Guys forgot to include us in their ceasefire.

“I got no problem with that” I agree.

I look up longingly; as soon as the business is over I can get some flying practice in. Those that know me realize that I’m a couch potato by instinct, the idea of going gliding without needing to gain altitude first is very tempting....always assuming I get up the courage to jump off. I’m a real Lame-o, I can fly on my pure white wings, as long as I can work up the courage to step off the roof that is.

So… we go into the reception area, there’s a pretty Japanese girl behind the desk and a few ninja types looking nonchalant.

I shut one eye and bite my lip; that’s my way of seeing past any normal-ness illusion. The girl’s even cuter this way, her eyes are bigger, her nose and mouth proportionately smaller...in a word a living Anime babe complete with blue hair.

She smiles delicately and blushes.

Suddenly I’m blushing too. I’m real good at sorting other peoples love lives, when it comes to getting some myself, I crash and burn every time.

“I.... That is... Ugh.. I mean..”

“He’s Cupid Boy, I’m The Were-Hypnotist. We have a package for Sanami-Sama.” interrupts Phil

“You have really cute wings!” She blurts, her blush seeming about to go critical “Oh! Pardon me! I did not mean to say that out loud, what must you think of me? Here, here are passes, the lab is on level 89”

“.........” I reply (if you’re being unkind you can insert the word ‘drool’ just there)

Fortunately my gay companion is immune to the demure anime girl’s charms and drags me over to the elevators.

“Get a grip Dougy!” he hisses

Like a dope, I wave to the receptionist as the elevator doors close, she see’s and puts a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

“Remember when you looked at Cheerleaders that way?” he asked

Well that was as good as ice-water. I liked the local cheerleaders just fine until they grew 6-inch razor sharp claws and tried to eat my best friend’s soul.

“She’s not a cheerleader! I’d know!” I protest. Damn! I didn’t get her name.

“She wasn’t human though, and neither were those nice pretty boys she had playing guard-dog”

“Boys?”

“The Ninjas. You did see the Ninjas didn’t you Dougy?”

“Oh, them. I wasn’t really looking at them. What was up with them?”

“No shadows”

“Like Splinter’s dudes on TMNT?”

“No not like TMNT. I don’t know what they were, but I think she’s a Kitsune”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause and then I ask “What’s a Kitsune?” just as the elevator doors are opening.

The lab is exactly the sort of place they show just before some biological ‘it’ escapes and murders everyone in all those cheesy horror flicks.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” I tell Phil

A youngish human scientist approaches us; he’s wearing some sort of high tech goggles.

“Fascinating, fascinating!” he says looking me up and down.

It is quite clear that he can see my wings. Annoyed I switch my un-visibility talent full on.

He stops inspecting me and starts lusting after me instead; there much better.

“Dougy, how are we going to hand the package over if they are all distracted by your rather fine physique?”

“Alright, alright. I’m just not used to being examined like a lab rat.” I grumped.

The scientists blinked shaking their heads to clear away the feelings of desire that had held them immobile.

“We’re here to deliver the package. If you or your girlfriends want to admire my body, that will cost extra.” I say putting on my best tough guy voice.

I do a lousy job of sounding tough; I look too damn cute to pull it off.

“Yes young man, Sanami-Sensei must have the package.” replied the scientist. My universal translator ability made the name sound like ‘Doctor Sanami’

“Here!” I say thrusting the package at him in a rude, sulky way. I can’t help that I look younger than I am; it’s a sore point with me.

Very very cautiously he pulls out the vial. Suddenly the lab’s alarm starts blaring, the bio-suited scientists quickly slam the visors down on their suits...all except the guy holding the vial, who’s looking at it like he’s holding a snake.

There’s a dribble of green stuff around the seal of the vial from where I took a sniff earlier...Oops.

Turns out Genon aren’t taking any chances at all, I feel a sharp pain and look down to see a tranc dart protruding from my thigh. I hear two more chuffing sounds; in front of me scientist dude has also been doped and I’d guess Phil has been too.

Like I said I’ve got a pretty tough healing factor, I can feel the tranc stuff numbing a small patch on my leg even as Doc and Phil are hitting the floor.

Now this is the good bit... Where I do the whole X-men/Superboy thing. I flick my wrists sending a pair of love darts into two of scientists, change aim and hit another pair, and two more. My victims hesitate, looking dazed for a few seconds and then dive at each other ripping at their bio-suits so that they can get started with the kissing (and fucking) of their new sweethearts.

No punching and hitting when I’m in combat; make love not war is my motto!

Anyhow, just as I’m thinking I’ve got them all and that the tranc is wearing off, one of those sneaky Shadow Ninjas gives my head a good thump. Goodnight Vienna!

I wake up in a sealed isolation chamber that looks decidedly like Hanibal Lector’s cell with its glass walls. There are nine occupied cells, one each for me, Phil, Doc and the six other scientists I darted.

I glance over at Phil’s cell, I’m feeling wet and smelling of chemicals; they must have disinfected us. I admit it, I’m scared shitless.

“What the hell was in that thing?”

“We probably have nothing to worry about” reassured Phil “The way you drink Slushies, it would take something pretty damn severe to dent your immune system. Same for me... I don’t know about the others though, they’re only human after all.

I glance in the direction of the others wondering what will happen to them. The six I darted, three guys, three girls, are pressed up against their transparent cell walls trying to get as close to their would-be lovers as they can get. They are completely focused on the task ignoring everyone else as they lean against the glass. It looks like I’ve created a gay couple, a brace of lesbians and a regular hetro pair.

I watch fascinated. Usually when I love-dart a couple they get down to fucking each other right away and then lose consciousness when they’ve orgasmed. This is the first time I’ve seen what happens when they can’t get at each other.

Meanwhile ‘Doc’ isn’t at all happy, he’s busy rubbing his hand against the wall, like he’s desperate to smear off any of that green ooze stuff that might have touched him.

“Hey Doc!” I yell.

He looks up, wild panicky eyes, he’s close to loosing it completely I figure.

“So what was that green shit anyway?”

“Nnnnh!”

I turn to Phil “Hey Phil can you, like, hypnotize him from over there. Get him to calm down?”

“I can try. Hey! Hey scientist! DUDE!”

Finally the guy looks up, and Phil captures him with those yellow wolf-like eyes of his.

“Fivforthreetwoone sleee” croons Phil waggling that pocket watch in front of his nose.

I made the mistake of watching and found my own eyelids become heavy, my mind relaxed into a comfortable unthinking state.

“Deeper and deeper asleep, let the fear slip away, less and less fear, more and more relaxed....” He probably went on like that for quite a while, but then I was too relaxed to care.

“Awaken”

I blink my eyes, feeling refreshed and totally fearless. The scientist had also calmed down and was looking blankly in our direction.

“What’s your name?”

“Dr Robert Shiefel”

“What was that stuff? What will it do”

“Ultra-recombinant DNA. If any of it got on my hand, I will undergo a type three mutation, becoming a completely new entity.” Dr Sheifel replied as if he were discussing the weather or explaining ‘why’ to a kid.

Before we could ask Doc what the fuck a Type Three Mutation was, the door to the cell block opened allowing an entourage of scientists and shadowless Ninjas to enter.

An older scientist inspected us muttering to himself “Fascinating a Lupus Mesmericus and an Olympianus Cupidus. If they survive intact they will make a valuable addition to our collection.

“Make a note: Dietary requirements—we will need a supply of fresh human sperm for the Lupus Mesmericus at least a pint a day, three pints on full moon days. The Olympianus Cupidus will need junk food, KFC, McDonalds or Burger King, avoid salads and un-carbonated drinks.” Instructed the scientist moving on to the next cell.

Well that was a surprise, I didn’t know KFC was my natural diet, I always thought I just happened to like fried Chicken and hate salad.

“Sanami-Sensei” says Doc bowing in the oriental way.

“I am encouraged by your strength of character Robert. Under the circumstances a lesser man might become distressed and brought shame upon the company.”

“Thank you Sensei. I was a little nervous earlier but I seem to have overcome it now.”

“Excellent. Here is a memo recorder, please document any mental or physical changes that you feel occurring.” replied Sanami indicating one of his attendants to pass the recorder through a small airlock.

“Yes Sanami-Sensei” replies Doc obediently bowing again.

I frown; why am I putting up with this shit? I have nothing to fear from humans after all. Sure an unlimited supply of KFC is tempting, but I kind of prefer being free.

I switch on my un-visibility at maximum strength; every human in the room suddenly turns to admire my perfection. The male attendants sprout erections, the female ones suddenly have nipple-bumps showing through their lab-coats and are shifting awkwardly as if their panties are suddenly damp and uncomfortable.

“Fascinating” says Dr Sanami who appears totally unaffected. “A nice demonstration of your ability; utterly futile of course, as your cell is still locked.

He turned toward Phil’s cell “And what about you Lupus Mesmericus? Would you like to try hypnotizing me?”

“No, I’ll pass. No point giving you data you can use against us later, ...whatever you are...Sanami-Kun” growls Phil sniffing the air.

my ears’ universally translate ‘Sanami-Kun’ as ‘Sanami-not worthy-of-respect’ ...personally I’d have just called him a shithead.

Ok, Now I’m feeling really dumb, clearly Sanami’s not what he seems or he’d be glassy eyed and lustful like the rest. I relax my hold on his humans, there’s no point holding them if I can’t use or grope them.

“Your escape plans are irrelevant in any case; if hybridization has occurred you won’t be nearly so self aware.” Sanami turned to leave, his attendants following like obedient ducklings.

There’s a long pause as both Phil and I wonder if this Sanami guy knows what he’s talking about. Not that I’m worried...I’m still totally fearless.

Well the next few hours were fun... Not! My six love-birds continue to claw mindlessly at the glass separating them and good ol’ Doctor Bob is giving us a blow by blow description of his symptoms.

So; the next bit doesn’t happen all at once, it’s what the Doc says into his fucking recorder over the next couple of hours, As you might expect way to much detail.

“10:15am—I am definitely infected. I have detected a rash on my right hand. Visually the rash’s manifestation is similar to chicken-pox or measles”

“10:30am—The rash has spread, I now have an itching discomfort over my entire upper torso and both arms”

“11:00am—Itching inside too, I have discarded my clothes, they are too uncomfortable against sensitive skin.”

“11:20am—The spots on my hands have changed, they look like tiny mouths now, leaking some sort of clear fluid. I am calling this stage two”

“11:35—The spots have gone to stage two over my entire body. On my hand each spot now has a wrinkle-textured deep red swelling at it’s base. Texture is similar to that of the tip of the human male’s glans.”

(he means they looks like a cockheads—Cupid Boy)

“11:50—thuth thpots coffver thuth ‘est ob my bu-ody haff altho thwollen to thtage three. Int-ernal, on thongue ath well.”

“12:01—Room prethure feelth wrong, feel conth-fined, irrethithtible urge to thtretcth.”

...And then, about five minutes later, he gave in to that urge to stretch he was talking about.

Each of those spots of his was the cockheaded tip of a tentacle. When he ‘stretched’ the tentacles shot out in every direction hitting the glass cell wall and rebounding back into the snake-pit mass. In five seconds flat the cell next to me had gone from mostly empty to totally filled from floor to ceiling with squirming snakey cocks, that smeared precum against the glass.

All the above was accompanied by a sort of ‘Sploodge’ sound.

Still being ‘Fearless’ I watched fascinated and didn’t even step back.

“Shit!” commented Phil

“Well that was unexpected; looks like Doc Bob just became Dr Cocktupus” I reply fearlessly

“Doug, I think we need to get the fuck out of here right fucking now.”

“I’m open to suggestions”

“Ok, here’s one... shoot out the glass with your love-darts”

I have one of those ‘Doh!’ moments. It never occurred to use my love-darts against a non-living target.

“If this works I’ll be able to practice using a dartboard”

“Anything that improves your aim gets my vote” say’s Phil earning him the glare I like to think of as my ‘dangerous look’

He smiles and points at the glass wall raising an eyebrow.. oh right... got distracted there for a sec.

I flip my wrists in that special way and two darts hit the armor-glass at bullet speed. My cell wall goes opaque, with the surface tension lost the glass has shattered into thousands of interlocking pieces; one good kick and the wall collapses.

Next set of darts smashes Phil’s cell and then I hit the dividing walls between the scientist’s cells. Finally released my three couples dive hungrily into one another’s arms; the lesbians go for a 69, the straight couple go straight for a homerun and the newly gay couple seem to be wrestling passionately, each trying to establish dominance over the other.

I hear a slight cracking noise and glance at the Doc’s cell, he’s still growing, his cocks are pressed tight against the glass, the cell is so full that the cocks are compressed, hardly able to wriggle.

With alarm I note a finger width cock has found its way through the feeding slot and is stretching toward my lesbians.

I glance at Phil who’s looking at all those cocks and licking his lips.

“Come on Phil, he may look like your fantasy date but he’s not! For all you know he’s a sexually transmitted disease.”

As I’m saying this, the wiener tentacle has reached my lesbians and has budded, splitting in two, one head slithering up each thigh. My girls ignore it; they are totally absorbed with the need to eat each other out.

“...besides, I think he’s Hetro” I add

Phil looks slightly disappointed, but does the sensible thing and heads for the door.

We are in a standard corridor, it looks like the glass cells were expected to be sufficient protection. With no further problem we walked to the elevator, got in and hit the button for ground level...looks like we were on 42nd floor.

“This is too easy” grumbled Phil

“We have to get some good luck sooner or later” I shrug, stretching my wings.

The elevator goes ‘ding’ and there we are in the lobby. There’s no sign of any of those ninja types. The receptionist sees me and blushes, I blush back and am about to go over and speak with her when Phil takes me by the elbow and pulls me toward the door.

I’m too busy looking over my shoulder at her to notice the problem with the door until I’m right next to it.

I look around and stop dead, there is a pure white energy field stretching across the doorway, it smells vaguely of lavender. Phil continues dragging me forward as if he doesn’t see anything.

Words form on the white energy, whoever is doing this is using a font called ‘Vivaldi’; it’s the one that is supposed to look like sophisticated old style hand writting, but actually just tells you that the typist don’t use a computer often and still thinks fancy fonts are cutting edge...and doesn’t understand the caps-lock key

DOUGLAS ‘CUPID BOY’ SAUNDERSON

Uh oh! Not good.

YOU WILL RESTORE ORDER IN THIS BUILDING. DO THIS PERSONAL FAVOR FOR ME AND YOUR TRANSGRESSION AGAINST MY FAMILY WILL BE FORGIVEN; CAPISH?

“Come on Doug” hisses Phil impatiently

“You remember that little problem I had with that guy that works in mysterious ways?… the one we all had a good laugh about?”

“Yeah; so? Do we have time for this?”

“Well He’s not letting us out until we tidy up the mess” I tell him despondently

“What?!”

“The Big Guy wants us to tidy up the mess… as a ‘personal favor’. Now I may be new at this shit but I’m pretty sure we don’t got a choice.”

“Crap! Mark told me a story once about a guy called Carlioto. The dude refused to do a ‘personal favor’ and woke up to find a horse’s head on the pillow next to him”

“Severed?” I ask, vaguely remembering hearing something similar.

“No. It was his wife... from the neck down anyway”

“Thank you so much for sharing that thought. So how the fuck are we meant to clear up this mess?... and don’t do that Tonto line”

“What’s this ‘we’ shit bird boy?” he replies as if on queue, in his best Native American accent.

I give him my ‘dangerous’ glare and give my wings a single flap.

“How about we warn Doctor Sanami and see if the dick-wadd can handle his own security” replies Phil.

That’s what I like about my Were-Hypnotist buddy, he actually has cunning plans that might work.

“Can’t hurt I guess” I shrug. (when you have wings shrugging can be quite expressive)

I walk back to the reception desk, this time taking a note of the girl’s name badge ‘Haronami Pris’

“Ummh Hi Pris”

“How do you know my name? Oh! My name badge! Ha ha, what can I do for you?” she blushes again.

For a moment I lose track of what I’m doing and have a little private fantasy that I’m not sharing.

“Uhm, c-could you phone Dr. Sanami for me?” I ask finally

“Oh! Of course. Who shall I say is calling?” she says sounding professional.

“Tell him Olympianus Cupidus“

“What a funny name”

“Actually my name’s Dougy, that other stuff is just what Sanami called me”

“Dougy is a nice name!” she declares decisively.

I nearly start daydreaming again looking into her large beautiful eyes.

We must have stood like that for a minute or two, looking into each other’s eyes, because Phil had time to go to the vending machine and get a pair of cokes and return before she finally blushed and turned her attention to the phone.

“Sanami-sensei. I have Olympianus Cupidus-sama in reception, he’d like a word”

Even as I’m taking the handset I fearlessly notice that the three feet of floor nearest the street are slowly rising up, with reinforcing bars telescoping out looking rather like a bank vault door.

“I just wanted to tell you, Sanami-Kun, Doctor Bob broke out of his cell about ten minutes ago” I say.

“Idiot! Don’t you realize what you have done!”

“Haven’t a clue mate, sorry.”

Sanami doesn’t answer but I hear him shouting commands to some people in the room with him.

“Bridger-kun, Prepare the shuttle for immediate launch; Crocker-kun delete the database and shred the hardcopy.”

I put the phone down. Phil looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Doctor Sanami has left the building.” I say in my best Elvis accent.

“So much for Plan A. I guess we go to plan B”

“We had a plan B?” I reply fearlessly, pulling the tab on my coke and chugging it down...ahhh nectar.

Then it occurs to me that the lovely Pris is in danger.

“Pris, Dr Sanami says it isn’t safe to stay in the building, you and the other workers should evacuate.” I lie

“The fuck he did!” replies Pris

“... ? ...” I reply; suddenly Pris is looking a lot tougher and a lot less cute.

“He sealed us in with whatever the hell escaped this time” she says

“So this, like, happens pretty often huh?” says Phil, stealing my line and earning himself a dagger-like glare from her beautiful large eyes.

“If you are going to be any use at all get up there and distract whatever the hell it is you released. I’ll sort out making an exit and come get you.” she snaps, sounding like ‘Ripley’ off of Aliens 2

“How’d you know we released anything?” I ask trying to sound innocent

“Do I look that stupid?” she snaps

I wanted say ‘actually you look pretty fine to me’ what I actually said was an indecisisive sounding ‘ummh’

Hear that sound? That was me crashing and burning. Pris stalks off toward the side door.

“Jeez, no wonder you get off on watching other people copulating. You have serious chat-up issues Dougy” says Phil

“At least I don’t have to hypnotize them into doing it with me”

“Ha! Even if I did pull a guy the regular way I’d still ask him if he’d like to try it whilst entranced.”

I feel a sulk coming on so I give up trying to bait him and ask a sensible question.

“So what’s plan B?”

“I figure we pop back up to the lab, rescue those scientists you love-darted, then I find some evil scientist type and hypnotize him... next you dart Doc Cock and the evil scientist. They fall in love, shag each other ‘till they’re unconscious and then we put them back in the cell.”

“I don’t like it” I say

“Why?”

“It sounds like it might work. Given your track record, that’s worrying” I say heading for the elevators

“Track record? What track record! Hey! Dougy, what track record?”

He races to catch up. I’m smirking, finally I’ve managed to prod him successfully.

Genon Building 39th Floor

We decided to get out on 39 and start clearing out any office workers we find.

The office workers won’t budge. Personally I think all this corporate loyalty bullshit is, like, bullshit. But then I’ve never even been to a job interview in my life, so what do I know.

We head up the fire-stairs toward 40.

“Why didn’t you hypnotize them?” I ask

“I’m saving my hypnotic energies for Doc; besides, they were all female” replies Phil saying the word female the same way I’d say ‘Ringworm’

“It’s kinda odd, I thought there’d be at least one or two males in there” Says I

“Ah well, at least Doc Cock hasn’t got this far.”

Next we hit 40th, and good ol’ Doc Cock hasn’t gotten here yet either. This level’s another lab complex with three Genon scientists and an experimental subject... A Mer-boy about 11 years old, kept in water tank with sensors stuck to his tail and torso.

“My turn” says Phil

He bounds into the centre of the room and does his hypnosis thing looking each of them in the eye one after the other, and then back to the first.

“....deeper and deeper asleep, more and more eager to serve...” drones Phil

Bored; I walk over to the lab bench and look at the various bottles while he’s busy; Basilisk venom, a Bee-man stinger, demon’s blood, aha! Succubus Juice.

I’m severely tempted to take a swig of Juice, but then think better of it, I have no idea what the scientists have done with it...and it probably isn’t very fresh.

If you recall fresh succubus juice turns you humans into a sex hungry babes… stale succubus juice, well I bet you have a pretty vivid imagination and it aint pretty.

“Now boys, who is gay enough to serve your new master, raise your hands?” says Phil

I glance around, all three scientists are sporting erections and are eagerly raising their hands as high as they can, almost on tip-toe in fact.

“Ok which of you is most evil?”

Two of them point to the third, and the third one is pointing at himself.

“Mister?” says a voice from the water tank

“Yes?”

“Can I go home now? I’m bored”

“I’m pretty sure they are finished with you kid. Do you have legs at all or do you always have a tail?”

“I only have legs if I dry out, mister”

“I figured that ‘Splash’ film used the real deal, Hollywood always was an equal opportunity employer.” Phil says nodding wisely

“That was My Mom in that film!” says Junior proudly.

I wonder if I can get to meet Junior’s Mom, I’m thinking.

At this point good ol’ Doc Cock makes his big entrance, or rather certain parts of him do.

The double doors at the far side of the lab smash open and a mass of cocky tentacles begin wreathing and side-winding into the room.

Phil reacts faster than me, were-creatures usually are pretty fast.

“You two, get the boy to safety. Dougy, do your love-darting thing.”

So I aim my arms and do the wrist-flick firing gesture, hitting both Doc Cock and Evil Doc. Despite Phil teasing me about my aim, I really am pretty accurate… mostly.

As expected, within seconds Evil Doc is ripping away at his white coat eager for sex with the new love of his life. Doc Cock on the other hand isn’t showing any particular reaction, that doesn’t really concern me; Doc Cock has grown up to be a big ol’boy, at least judging by the amount of cocks still squeezing their way through the double doors.

There’s a structural groaning noise and plaster begins falling from the wall around the door...seconds later the doorway shatters and a cockhead the size of an Abrahms Tank eases its way into the room.

“Houston, we have a problem”

I don’t recall which of us actually said that; personally I was fearlessly shocked.

Meanwhile Evil Doc runs at full speed toward his lover and does a stage-dive into the wriggling cocky mass. Doc Cock pauses for a moment to wrap six or seven penises around Evil Doc and pull him deeper in. Soon Evil doc is out of sight and that part of Dock Cock is making wet slurping noises.

Doc Cock’s main cockhead is attached to an equally massive neck...and that neck is beginning to harden, veins bulging, and its cum-duct ‘throat’ swelling.

“You know, speaking as a dude with lots of sex observational expetience, I’d say if that were my Mr. 9 Inch he’d be about ready to shoot his load.” says I

“Given that his head is pointed right at us I think that would be an extraordinary bad thing” says Phil “Time for Plan C!”

“We had a Plan C?”

“Ruin his horny mood; throw stuff at him or something...and then run like stink!”

So I sweep up a load of chemical flasks from the bench and start chucking them in the sissy sort of throw that only a true non-sportsman can manage. None of them have any effect apart from the Succubus Juice, which attacks one of Doc Cock’s penises like it’s hyper-acid.

Unfortunately its not enough, precum dribbles from Doc Cock’s heads, which are all pointing at us now, and then his main neck convulses sending a fire hose like gush of sperm shooting in our direction.

“Run!” shouts Phil, leaping aside with wolf-like reflexes.

Instead of running I glance in his direction, completely missing the milky goo that splatters me back against the far wall. I’ve been slimed!

“Go! Get the kid out!” I yell heroically, stumbling to my feet and promptly slipping ass over tip in the slick cum-puddle.

I already know its too late for me; I itch all over and my skin feels tight. The Doc’s penises wrap gently around my legs and drag me toward him. I can’t prevent it, every surface is slick with his cum.

He doesn’t do anything to me, simply holding me close my vision obscured by a cocoon of tentacle. Soon the need to ‘stretch’ builds up, becoming unendurable.

Finally I give in and stretch myself in every direction sending all my cocks exploring the environment, sensing by touch alone. One of his cocks merges with one of mine and that’s the end of me as an individual.

At this point my mind is, like, totally out to lunch. I guess it’s a bit like Borg assimilation, cock-tentacle creatures only have a few basic thoughts and as we are identical in body and thought there is no point being individuals.

The only thoughts I have are a need to find/fuck pussy and the need to find/assimilate cocks. My memories of an office full of pussy make me temporarily dominant and one of my cocks expands to become the main ‘head’, blindly I feel our way toward the stairwell and all the babes.

I’m told it was easy to tell which part was me, my cocks had cute little wings just behind each head.

So anyhow my knowledge of where the girls are and the knowledge of the building layout known to the other parts allow us to infiltrate the air-con ducts and prepare for entry through every vent simultaneously.

How am I feeling about this? ‘Pussy imminent’ is about the limit of my thought process right then.

Sliding down into floor 39 I can sense the vibration of sounds, (screams?) against my soft sensitive flesh, I waggle myself around a bit until I touch the warm girl-flesh that some instinct driven part of me recognizes as lower thigh...I send other parts of me toward ‘thigh’, hoping to touch the rough prickle of hair that will indicate pussy is close...I dedicate twelve of my cocks to the search whilst another twenty wiggle around trying to catch another one.

And that’s pretty much all there is to being part of cock-tentacled mass.

Doubtless you are wondering how I’m telling you this if I’m just a happy bunch of drooling erections… I’ll get to that later. For now we’ll have to rely on what the others said happened during the hour I was busy with my pussy hunt.

Now I’m not saying this is accurate, but its what they said happened...

Vic stood in front of the mirror and tried again with the spiky hair look. Max had said it would look kewl, but then Max was just as likely to tell him that to get a laugh.

Frowning hard he forced his skin to mimic a quik-tan yellowy orange...it was the closest he could do to human coloration. In a bad light he could pass as a victim of plastic surgery, as long as he didn’t smile or accidentally flicker his forked tongue.

The phone rang, playing the tune from Jurassic park. Vic relaxed, letting his skin return to its natural green.

“Vic”

“Hey Vic; Phil. Listen I need a favor, a biggy... get over to Exotix and grab a couple of gallons of Succubus Juice, and we’ll need Mark’s weedol sprayer. Get them over to the Genon Building in New York by 2:30, If you can’t get in make your own entrance. Oh and if you run into that knob-head Morph ‘insist’ that he comes along”

Before Vic could reply the phone went dead.

Vic could tell from the tone of voice that this was something serious. Shrugging he pressed the quick dial for Buzz.

“Buzz izn’t in right now, ivv you’d like to leave a name and numver...” said the phone begining to play ‘Flight of the bumblebee’ in the background

“..Here” came Buzz voice breathlessly breaking into the recorded message.

“It’s Vic; Phil n Dougy are in trouble...”

The word spread fast after that.

Genon Building

The Battlesuit stepped into view around the corner, despite the chunky armor, weapons systems and servo-packs it was evident that the occupant was shapely and very female.

Phil skidded to a halt, hesitated, fight or flight? Was this another of Genon’s security measures? He sniffed the air.

“Pris?”

The Battlesuit dismantled itself retracting out of sight, revealing the receptionist’s naked body.

“Poor Dougy, he has no idea what he’s missing. I had you pegged as a Kitsune. Guess I was wrong.”

“A Were-Fox? Do I look furry to you?”

“I guess not, definitely a ‘Were’ something though”

“I’m a Were-Mecha, I was bitten by a Gundam. You have a problem with that?"”

“How the heck do you get bitten by a... No, scratch that... At least it’s got better kudos than being bitten by a stage hypnotist”

“Maybe. But that isn’t important right now. I’ve blasted a hole down into the subway; we can get people out now. Where’s the creature?” she says in a tough disciplined way.

“On 39, our plan didn’t work we couldn’t stop it... It absorbed Dougy”

“Dougy?! No!” says Pris sounding concerned (at least, I’m told she sounded concerned)

“He’s a tough old bird, getting turned into a slobbering mass of erectile tissue isn’t going to bother him too much ...in the long run”

Heh, heh, yeah he got that right, I’m up there on 39 wrapping myself around a dozen or so secretary babes getting them all slippery and giving them a nice cuddle. Apparently cock-tentacle cum is a potent aphrodisiac, none of the girls objecting to my attentions after I’ve given them an all over lube job. As far as my simplified brain understands it’s just an endless Part-ay time!

“So...what’s Plan B?” asks Pris

“Actually I’m on Plans D and E at this point” admits Phil

“Which are?”

“Plan D—call for backup, Plan E—figure out a way to separate Dougy from the rest of the creature so that his healing factor can kick in.”

“I saw that thing when I tapped into the security grid. How can you tell which parts are Dougy? Your sense of smell that good?” asks Pris

“Naaw, it’s easy, dougy’s tentacles are the ones with cute little wings on.”

“Winged cocks? I am definitely going take a photo of that.” says Pris.

And she did too! The others bring the snapshot out every so often, thinking to embarrass me with it. Secretly I think I looked pretty handsome in a phallic sort of way.

After a moment’s thought she adds “If his umm parts have all got wings it should be easy enough to dissect... I mean separate them”

So there I am partying happily, just getting ready for a simultaneous ejaculation into twenty vaginas when I sense the vibration of voices.

“Shit! There are two clumps of him” says a babe voice.

I lift up a few of my cocks pointing them in the direction of the voice and blindly squirt some cum hoping the aphrodisiac will provide an extra pussy to explore.

“Well cut them both loose!, start with the bigger clump” says a non-babe voice

And then there’s pain, big nasty unromantic pain. My wreathing mass of penises go limp and shrink a bit now that I’m suddenly no longer in the mood for lurve.

The pain slashes out again and then I can feel a metal hand reaching in and grabbing my core like I’m a handful of noodles and pulling me loose.

I lost consciousness at about that point.

38th floor Genon Building

“Ouch, that fucking hurt” I say, opening an eye.

Suddenly I’m back to having a normal level of brain activity in a regular shaped brain. I raise a hand before my face inspecting it, a small and fading part of me is regreting that I’d reverted.

Next priority, check my wing feathers for damage.

“How you doing?” asks Phil from where he’s standing, keeping his eye firmly on the landing above.

“Better than I was. I think I’ll just rest for a while though. How’d you know I’d revert?”

“When you threw that Succubus Juice at Doc Cock it hurt him; you’re practically addicted to the stuff, so I figured your healing factor was tougher.”

There’s the sound of phaser fire and the metallic thud of mechanical boots coming down from above, it’s some sort of battle armor, painted in metallic red and chrome, it’s holding a squirming nest of cocks in it’s oversized hand, the other arm seeming to end in smoking weapon tube.

“Well you don’t see one of those every day” I say in a dazed sort of voice; reverting to being a cupid has really exhausted me.

The Battle armor chucks the limp mass of cocks onto the floor and turns back using that fancy cannon on a mass of cock-tentacles that are beginning to find their way into the stairwell.

I want to tell it… (her?) to stop being mean to Bob, but I don’t have the energy.

I guess I drifted off for a moment, when I opened my eyes I could see another me slumped against the opposite wall gradually absorbing the last few remaining tentacles.

Phil is looking from him to me nervously.

“Ouch, that fucking hurt” the other me groans. Then he see’s me. “Hey! You’re me”

“No I’m not! You’re me!” I reply belligerently.

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

Just assume that we repeated that exchange several times whilst we weakly struggled to our feet ready to go mano-e-mano on which of us is the ‘real’ me.

Technically of course neither of us was the ‘real’ me. As soon as we were physically close our body decided it really preferred being in one piece and merged.

All I remember is a sort of ‘sploodge’ sound and then I’m no longer feeling drained of energy...good as new, and only one of me.

Phil looks like he’s going to throw up though...and the robot babe doesn’t look well either, despite having no discernable face.

“Don’t ever...ever... do that again, least ways not when I’m looking.” says Phil sounding worse than he looks.

“So. What’s the plan?” I say in a bouncy energetic tone. My memory of being a sex obsessed bunch of tentacles is fading fast, but at that point I definitely recalled having made at least a dozen homeruns, finally I’ve lost my virginity and it felt...damn! I can’t remember what felt like.

Phil check’s his pocket watch, actually using it to tell the time for once.

“Plan D should arriving just about...now”

The wall behind our robot babe glows with pentagram like squiggles and turns into the familiar portable entrance to the Exotix Bar. The entrance has a Lord of the Rings theme this time, looking exactly like the entrance to the Mines of Moria.

The floor grows some slimy tendrils that wrap around the door handles and yank it open...a nice touch that, I thought.

“What the?!” says the robot in Pris’s voice raising her weapons arm and painting laser targeting dots on the new arrivals.

“Easy!” say Phil “They’re on our side”

It takes a moment or two to sort this lot out and give explanations. Pris doesn’t know about the extra-dimensional Exotix Bar, I don’t know about Pris being a were-robot, Vic n’ Buzz don’t know nothing. ...And Morph, well Morph is looking like ‘Malcolm in the middle’ and hoping that big cute eyes are going to get him off the hook.

“So, Morph, why didn’t you mention that stuff was dangerous?” asks Phil dangerously

“It’s not...not to you two, anyway” he says evasively.

“...Or that the recipient wanted to add us to his Zoo” I add

“I didn’t know that! How would I know that?” he says looking like Sgt Bilko and sounding plausibly distressed.

Meanwhile Doc Cock must have fucked all the secretaries into blissful unconsciousness and is just beginning to feel his way down the stairwell.

Pris having returned to her guard position lets off a barrage of cock-vaporizing energy bolts. The smoldering stubs retract hastily.

Collectively Buzz, Vic, Phil and I wince. Being female and a mechanoid she has absolutely no understanding of just how distressing that sort of damage looks to us males.

“Don’t do that! He’s only a baby!” gasps Morph sounding shocked by Pris’s actions.

Morph is so shocked he reverts to his ‘natural’ form as a 6ft tall erection... which almost gets his ‘head’ blown off by Pris.

“That ‘baby’ has absorbed every male human he’s encountered and is playing hunt the beaver with the secretarial pool” grates Pris dangerously.

“Bad baby! Bad!” says Morph in the direction of Doc Cock’s wriggling erectile bulk. Even though he has no limbs he has this hands-on-hips-angry-parent aura about him.

The cock-tentacles that are groping their way down the stairs begin slithering back up as if Doc Cock understands he’s been a naughty baby.

“If that mass of sex obsessed spaghetti is just a baby I’m not going to hurt it.” I declare folding my arms and giving my wings a flap for emphasis. “I don’t care what The Big Guy says. If he thinks I’m going to kill a newborn he’s wrong; If I’m being ‘disrespectful’ well that’s just tough!”

The others look at me nervously, wanting to agree and at the same time morbidly curious about how big a thunderbolt The Big Guy will use.

The atmosphere became oppressive, the way it does before a storm. Unobtrusively my friends take a step back.

“Look!” says Vic pointing at one of the walls where incandescent letters are beginning to form.

OI VEY! HOW PRECISE DO I HAVE TO BE WITH THE COMMANDMENTS? DID I MENTION A BABY, EVEN ONCE? JUST STOP WASSISNAME... (hey Mikey what’s the guy’s name?) [Sanami Boss]...

STOP SANAMI FROM DOING ANY MORE BLOODY EXPERIMENTS; THERE IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH

“But Sanami did a runner, he’s not here” I object reasonably

BUGGER! IN THAT CASE YOUR DEBT TO ME STILL EXISTS. I WILL CALL IN THE FAVOUR ANOTHER TIME.

It was evident that the Big Guy expected no argument; two burly cherubs popped into existence and rolled up the glowing words as if they were a scroll and then vanished with an audible pop

“I thought he was supposed to be omniscient” muttered Phil

“Go figure”

“So uhm what are we gonna do about Doc Cock? Even if he is ‘only a baby’ we can’t let him keep all those secretaries.”

“Its OK...I have a plan” says Phil

“That would be Plan F?” says Pris firing her arm cannon at a small cock that has stealthily slithered down the farside of the handrail

“Dougy, take the weedol sprayer filled with succubus juice up to 39 and give Doc Cock a soaking.”

“Me?? Why me?”

Why is it all his best plans involve me going into deadly danger? Who does he think I am Lou Costello?

“Because you’re immune to his cum. Vic’s far too human, Buzz...I have no idea about him, the juice would poison Morph, Pris is a girl and I haven’t developed an immunity yet.”

Damn! I hate it when he has logic backing him up.

Phil glances at Morph “Will it work?”

Morph takes on the appearance of Dr ‘Bones’ McCoy.

“I’m a polymorph not a physician!” he shrugs and then sighs “I guess it might work. Right now he’s bulked up with all the guys he absorbed, if you turn them into succubae he’ll be reduced to a more manageable size. The problem will be the succubae...they are going to want a piece of you...probably the peice dangling between your legs.”

“...and that’s what the rest of us will be doing...making sure Cupid Boy doesn’t ‘get lucky’ " adds Phil

I glare at him on general principals.

So that’s what we do, I go up the stairs dragging the (very heavy) weedol sprayer with its gallon of juice.

At first Doc Cock surges toward me and sprays me with his cum, hoping to add my winged distinctiveness to his cocky collective. but when his cocks touch my skin he pulls back like he’s been stung...With this proof of my invulnerability I strike a ‘heroic’ pose and begin pumping the sprayer’s stirrup handle.

It works, the erotic snake nest hisses and steams, the cock-tentacles retract, most retreating upstairs but some retracting into a human sized clump that quickly resolves into a naked male.

He staggers to his feet, I recognize him, its the one I turned gay earlier on.

“Andrew? Darling?” he says, his voice rising an octave even as he’s speaking.

With the amount of juice I’ve pumped and him only being human, things move pretty quickly, even if ‘her’ mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. The ex-guy’s hand moves to cup one of his growing breasts, with the other hand he uses a finger to poke his cockhead, pushing it back up into himself like he’s telescoping it back up inside.

“I already darted that one, I can’t do her again” I warn, dragging the sprayer up another couple of steps.

“I’m on it” says Phil, leaping forward and dangling his pocketwatch in front of the succubus, who is just checking her hair before launching herself at a male.

“Fivefourthreetwoone Sleep”

I won’t bother you with a blow by blow account and just skip forward to the finale...turns out succubus juice is just as effective on secretaries as it is on Doc Cock, leaving us facing not five or six sex hungry vixens...but closer to thirty… now its looking grim for the guys, Vic has proportionate strength of lizards but can only hold off one or two, Buzz is airborne but can do little more than distract, Morph has shifted so that he looks like Hulk Hogan and is also having difficulty with the numbers.

It’s looking grim, but then Pris steps in and does her thing. She starts in human form and dives into the center of the room doing a tucked roll so that she comes out on her feet.

Metal gizmos emerge from her spine and coat her in a thick, figure-enhancing layer of equipment; her size C bust now looks closer to size DD.

(ok I admit I have no idea how bra sizes work… but DD sounds about two sizes larger than a C so that’s what I’m calling it)

“Engage Riot Control Nipples!” I kid you not, that’s what she said.

As announcements go, that’s a showstopper. Naturally I became totally distracted by my natural curiosity and am nearly swamped by charging Succubae-Secretaries.

The edges of Pris’ areola crackle with energy and her metallic nipples slowly detach from her Breasts, sort of like two vertical flying saucers; red colored energy crackle between the two nipples and the sockets in her armor.

Pris strikes a hands on hips, legs apart pose that, like, totally distracts me (again). Meanwhile the energy field is increasing in power, sort of crackling with a background sound like a transformer’s hum.

“Mesmerize!” shouts Pris; looks like her nipples are voice activated.

The energy crackles outward striking everyone in the room... and then ...and then ...and then. I can’t remember what happened next, all I remember is being awoken by the caress of cold metal fingertips against my beardless cheek.

I look around, everyone else is stood to attention with their heads bowed except for the lovely Pris and Phil the Were-hypnotist who’s stood with arms folded looking like he disapproves of something.

I watch as Pris taps each of our guys on the shoulder waking them up. Her battlesuit has folded itself away apart from a polished chrome bikini set and hard ski boot-like metal shoes. I’m pretty happy just standing there enjoying the view, she’s pretty fine

She somehow looks softer now, more like a cute receptionist than a Battlemech.

“I think we should start clearing up” she says conscientiously.

Is it just me or are all girls obsessed with tidying. I mean, we just trashed the place and she wants to start dusting.

“Hang on! Where’s Doc Cock? I thought we were supposed to leave his core-self intact” says Vic

“There he goezz!” says Buzz pointing toward a pile of upturned desks.

I glance just in time to see a miniature version of Morph...a 3 inch long weener cock running on its gonad-feet, headed toward the safety of the dislodged furniture that had been swept aside by Doc Cock’s previous bulk.

“Get him Dougy!”

I was about to say ‘Why me’ but then remembered all the immunity stuff. I launch myself into the air and glide on over.

Doc Cock is a fast little bastard and gets into the pile before I can get there. Have you ever tried to catch an escaped Hamster? Well that’s exactly what this was like. It takes a good ten minutes with my arm buried up to the shoulder before I finally grasp the slippery little blighter and drag him out wriggling desperately.

“Gotcha!”

Morph walks over looking like The Judge from ‘fresh prince’ and then morphs back into his natural form, I now realize there’s a definite family resemblance between the two phalluses.

“Behave!” snaps Morph parentally

Doc Cock stops struggling. Carefully I release my stranglehold on the little blighter and let him stand on the palm of my hand.

“You know you’ve been bad don’t you”

Doc Cock nods and then looks at his gonads, which he shuffles like they are feet.

“And you’re going to be a good boy whilst I take you home?”

Reluctantly Doc Cock nods.

A quick rummage in the debris turns up a plastic lunchbox into which Doc Cock is placed.

“Why didn’t you tell us we were transporting a baby?” asks Phil

“You weren’t. You had a sample of Dad’s sperm...the little wiener came about because you got some poor human pregnant.” says Morph sternly “Which brings up the next question. How’d that stuff get out, that was a hermetically sealed container?”

Suddenly all eyes are looking at me. How do they know its my fault and not Phil, that’s what I’d like to know!

“I just wanted to see what was in it” I mumble

“Think carefully Dougy, have you touched any guys with the hand you used to open the container with”

I think back to the hotel stopover before the trip....

“Ummm...how well does that stuff keep?” I wince recalling wiping some of the gunk off on the complimentary towel at the Orlando Palms Airway Hotel and Sauna.

“Its good for decades”

“Umm”