Area 69: 'Code Pink'

"Good, good. You're awake. The memory loss should be temporary." Assured an aurburn-haired beauty with vivid green eyes that stood over Dick's bedside. She wore a rather comical looking black beret made of slick vinyl; which seemed to match the black, studded dog-collar around her throat. As Dick came around, the throbbing of pulse-pounding drums and saxophone music made for an indecently seductive atmosphere.

Thum-thumpa-thumpa-Thum....

It sounded a bit like the prelude to a sex-scene in a cheap, porno video. Which was by design, of course.

"I...I don't know......" Began Dick, rubbing his aching skull; not even daring to wonder about the dull throb in his crotch.

"Yes, but in time your memory should come back; we had a minor breach with a Mnemovore; they have mind-altering powers and can consume memories." The collared woman, who seemed to be nearing her mid-thirties, explained. What the F@$#!?....

"As for the rest of it, it would be better if I showed you, rather than try to explain it all now. It will help your memory if you can see what I mean for yourself." Dick found himself dressed in one of those flimsy, gauzy, hospital gowns, with briefs underneath to cover his manhood. He stood on tall, unsteady feet. He was over six-feet, with just enough height and stature to mollify the overall nerdiness of his thick glasses and lanky appearance.

His hostess, on the other hand was a statuesque amazon clad in a leather-fetish riot of dominatrix gear. Belts and straps adorned her lean legs and torso, with black cups capping her breasts complete with steely nipple-spikes. She opened a smooth, metal door as Dick stepped away from the simple, fold-out single-person bed he had slept on. He tried not to dwell on the mysterious stains on the sheets.

The open door blasted his senses with a rush of multi-colored lights, cigar-smoke, and the increased volume of the seduction sound-track as a vast panorama of sex-toys, and stripper-poles spread out before him. With morbid fascination, he entered the aisles of what seemed like a sex-fetish super-store. Whips, chains, blow-up dolls, and a veritable forest of dildoes. Near the walls further back were lighted stages, complete with poles in the center, where the men seated on plush chairs could watch as many as three strip-teases at once, from stages positioned at various corners of the vast chamber. In the corner behind Dick stood what appeared to be a bar and cash-register.

"Okay....." Dick began. "Mmm....not ringing any bells so far.... Do I...eh...work here miss...?" He almost feared the answer.

"That's Mistress Talia, and that's a good guess, we do work here, and yet we don't; you'll see what I mean in a moment. It shouldn't be long before it all returns to you."

For several moments, Dick seemed about to say something, then stopped and studied the lurid environment before him. He passed the Dildo aisle and nearly gaped at the largest array of pornographic magazines he had ever imagined. There were at least a dozen titles he'd never seen in all his salacious college days. He almost wondered if this....establishment was producing some of them in-house, with an operation this large it seemed not unlikely.

A brazen, mascara-painted stripper strutted onto the stage to his left. She wore a red, sequined bikini, and was barely wrapped in a gauzy shawl meant to tease the audience with her curvaceous form and jutting breasts. Her gorgeous face seemed to be a mixture of Hispanic and Eastern European features as pleasing as it was exotic. His attention was torn between her, and another red-headed sex-worker further back, already pantomiming the removal of her panties before an eager audience. Everywhere Dick looked there was bold, audacious tittilation to shock the sensibilities of even the most libertine of folk.

As he followed Talia between aisles of body-paint in a variety of flavors, he noticed on an upper floor what looked like a row of....hotel rooms? Men cackling with glee held luscious strippers on either arm as they entered the plain, small chambers; much like the enclosure Dick had awoken in. The employees included men dressed in leather suspenders with black hoods, and exposed chests, and other females dressed as Talia was; reminding him of dominatrix prostitutes from a Mad-Max rip-off.

"What you see before you is important, but our true jobs are far more....complicated than what you see here." Talia noted, as her ripe ass switched temptingly in a vinyl bikini-bottom meant to exaggerate the bulge of her butt. She led him behind the north stage, where the red-headed stripper with jiggling mountains of breastflesh larger than her own head was humping the well-greased pole in the center of the stage.

Behind the curtain was a plain, locked door. Behind that was an entire hallway of plain, locked doors. Talia chose the third on the left side, and after passing through another nondescript, metal door, the pair came to an elevator. Dick was shocked; yet there was a certain....rightness about the situation that set his nerves at ease. Perhaps Talia was telling the truth; he really did work here, and his subconscious mind was remembering impressions. Upon entering the elevator, Talia did not press any of the four buttons, but rather grasped Dick's hand, and her own, and pressed them against a blank, metal panel off to the left side.

"Umm...I-"

"Just wait patiently." Presently, there was a pleasant beep, and a computerized voice replied:

"WELCOME; AGENT TALIA; WELCOME AGENT BIGSWALLOW."

"Ooo, I bet we're not C.I.A., are we?" Dick asked impishly, the flourescent lighting of the elevator gleaming off his slick-backed, raven-colored hair.

"Not quite," Mistress Talia answered, as the elevator began a descent....then a faster descent....Dick grabbed the support railing as his stomach was unsettled by the rapid motion. He could sense them being conveyed at great speeds; similar to what you'd expect in an elevator for a skyscraper of nealy 50 floors; or for some clandestine, black-budget, government agency buried beneath the Nevada desert.

"The sex-store above us is jokingly named, 'AREA 69' but it is just a necessary facade for our true purpose. Which shall be clear in but a moment." Dick felt far less frightful anticipation one might expect after a series of revelations like this; did he really did belong here? The stomach-churning, controlled plummet through the elevator shaft ended after what felt like somewhere between 40 to 60 stories down before the doors swept open. The pair entered a plain, white, featureless room adorned only with suspicious looking security cameras, and a red, diffused light swept over them.

"More security scans?" Dick suggested helpfully, trying rapidly to adapt to this odd role. Talia nodded. Finally, the second security doors opened into a glass and steel, rectangular control center with an odd mix of sophisticated, lab-coat clad researchers, and attractive women dressed like Streetwalkers.

"Welcome back to the real Area 69."

**********

The many workers turned, regarded Dick and Talia, and began clapping.

"For me?" the lanky, semi-nerdy, 'agent' asked, chagrined.

"Welcome back; we were rather worried." explained Talia. But before further introduction could get underway, red-alert alarms blared with irritating shrillness as emergency sirens in the walls flashed brightly.

"Positive I.D." shouted a balding man in a lab coat who eagerly turned back to his monitors. "It's a Class 2 Supernatural Devourer; same one as last week.

"Now that we've let her enter and leave the place without being accosted, her guard is down. She's come back to feed this time." Remarked a Hispanic woman with an exceptionally wide ass dressed in skin-tight, fish-net stockings over her entire body. Larger monitors lit up above Dick and displayed an intimate scene from one of the private hotel rooms in the sex-center above them.

Immediately, the naked back of a young woman was visible on the screen. The toned muscles of her shoulder blades and lower back where undulating as she writhed on top of a willing man. She had a pleasant nest of coppery-brown hair styled in playful bangs that bobbed as she ground herself downward. Her taut ass and womanly hips wallowed rhythmically into the crotch of her mark, with unmistakable slurping sounds.

The camera angle switched to the front; her face had a coldly elegant perfection to rival that of a supermodel, and her breasts; before Dick's very eyes, the ripe mounds seemed to be...swelling?

"Oh yeah, she's going all out." noted a blond man clad in a leather body-sheath with holes for his arms, and what seemed to be a dog-collar around his throat. "She figures that there's no way for him to escape her, so she thinks she can let down her disguise and feast."

"Remember not to personalize the subjects; that creature isn't a human, isn't a woman; it's just a Class 2 Supernatural." Reminded a middle-aged woman dressed like a cocktail waitress as she attended her own monitor screens.

The de-personalized creature in question let out a throaty squeal as her restraints on her true form slackened. Her nipples were exceptionally pert; mounted high upon her firm, youthful breasts that jiggled like flesh-capped apples. But with each thrust, each grind upon the hardened cock of her intended prey; an unwholesome energy seemed to flow into her mammaries.

With a slow, subtle throb, those apple-sized teats had widened before the onlookers at least two inches in under five seconds, shadowing the center of her chest in the beginnings of cleavage while the outer edge of each boob inched closer to her arms.

Dick checked a monitor that displayed a sideways angle. The supernatural slut had arched her back, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy while ripe, delicately-tanned boobflesh jutted outwards with smooth, steady growth. For the first three seconds, it was difficult to see more than her erect nipples from this side angle, concealed as they were by her smooth arms that gripped the wrists of her male prey. But mere moments later; high, tight nipples thrust into view, carried by an inexorable tide of growing, multiplying tit. In less time than it took to say it, the jiggling juggs had enlarged forwards and outwards until they extended forward a distance twice as long as the apple-sizes they had started at.....no....too big now; they were becoming more like overripe grapefruit with each pounding of her naked, cum-slicked pelvis.

The voluptuosness of the creature's feminine form was increasing at a deceptively calm, yet intense rate. When watching, it was as if your eyes were lying to you; greater extremes of grapefruit-sized titflesh unfolded before the viewer with perfect smoothness, belying the grunting fervor of the demon-slut's lustful rutting. No....they had become three inches larger than any grapefruit....more like four inches.

"Her...er...its prey is in mortal danger now," Talia announced, reminding herself that the lusty beast was not, and had never been human. This is a Class 2; an energy-feeder. During the sex-act, it drains the cells of its partner of all available chemical potential; leaving behind a lifeless husk; unless we stop it."

The sexual monstrosity unleashed an unearthly roar of predatory lust, her eyes glowing an infernal red; as a long, too long, sensuous tongue slithered from her mouth. Her coppery hair, bobbing in pleasant bangs was becoming plastered to her scalp from the pussy-impaling exertion of this furious mating. By now, her boobs were nearly as large as basketballs; her fecund orbs growing outwards, yet hanging lower towards the face of her deliriously happy prey.

"Y-your Tits! Holy Shi-mmph!" A taut nipple pushed past his lips, stifling his exclamations. She had lucked up this time; this was a rugged, calloused man with a heavy, five-o-clock shadow; the sort of man that this preternatural paramour favored above others. This was the best part of the feeding; when she'd sapped enough energy to overpower her larger, male mark. She was totally dominant now, totally in control. Even had he wanted to, at this point the man could not have forced her off, could not have resisted her. This one didn't even realize the danger; it was just the best Lay of his Life. The triumph, the ecstasy thrilled her like nothing else ever had in her centuries of existence like this magical moment; as she spread her naked body over his hairy form, reveling in her power, her lust, the validation of her attractiveness, the raw ecstasy of the feeding itself; as the hapless human's life-force pumped into her pussy, the spraying of white mists from the sprinklers overhead, the way her water-melon sized breasts jiggled when...hey!

Sure enough, a white misty foam blasted her from the sprinkler system, unleashing a toxin that left her disoriented and unsteady, and which put the man into a deep, deep sleep. As she struggled to regain her equilibrium, a red mist followed from the system. This triggered a potent jolt of stimulation to every nerve in her body: sexual stimulation. The intense ecstasy triggered an immediate, irrepressible cycle of orgasms in the sexual predator. She slid off her mark, collapsing to the floor as her joints and muscles turned to jello. Her body was pummeled by rocking orgasms; so strong she could not even stand; so numerous that her mind and thoughts were being buried in raw, animal passion.

A secret door in the back wall slid open. Six women dressed in red lingerie and plastic gas-masks entered the room carrying chains, handcuffs, and what seemed to be strait-jackets. They grasped the thrashing, supernatural whore by her legs, careful to avoid the oozing gush of feminine lubrication that poured from her spasming vagina. The demon-slut fought and kicked, but the orgasms from the erototoxin proved too strong for her to regain use of her full powers. As her pulsing cunt thrust into the air, a flood of girl-cum wetted her toned, inner thighs. But her crotch was covered by the thick cloth and straps of the strait-jacket-like binding, before she could unleash a spurt of cum onto her captors. Plastic suction cups where placed over the nipples of her ponderous breasts. Finally, one of the six, lingerie-clad agents strapped to the demon's belly a medallion with a whorled, swirling symbol of unknown origin.

"And that is..." Dick asked.

"Oh, that's an Evangelon; it's a mystical extrapolation we've invented to improve upon traditional holy symbols. People have been using the crucfix for centuries to ward off vampires and the like; but the Evangelon uses elements from multiple religions, and is proof against any supernatural evil."

"Sooo...you need a crucifix to fend off a European demon, but a Yin-Yang to protect yourself from a Chinese Demon?"

"Well, almost....but the Evangelon serves in any case." Talia said.

The lingerie-squad dragged the now helpless she-demon into the secret passageway, and the camera-feed was cut off.

"So our job is to capture succubi that are hiding amongst the general population; and... SlutWorld above us is....what? Bait?" Dick surmised.

"You're getting it," Interjected the Hispanic woman clad from head to toe in fishnet stockings. "Give it time; your memory should recover fully. I'm Inez; since you've probably forgotten."

"I..uh...I guess you know that I'm Dick; nice to meet you...Inez...again....I think." Both women chuckled before Talia continued.

"What common myth understands as the Succubi is just one of a multitude of parasitic, sexual species that feed upon mankind's lusts. Sex is our greatest weakness; when we let down our guard, both rich and poor, genius and dullurd, the powerful and the helpless are vulnerable. And we're at war, essentially, and have been for centuries. Entire civilizations have been consumed and destroyed by their own lusts in the past; aided by these creatures." Talia adjusted her spiked breast-cups as she led Dick down a bright, metallic hallway.

"Collectively, we call them Nymphoids; after the old Greek word for a young, fertile woman. But they aren't human; there are dozens of Strains that copy the form and behavior of sex-starved, young women of spectacular beauty the way certain insects use mimickry to gain an advantage. It's a full-time job keeping them bottled up and under wraps. And there are most likely thousands more in this country alone we've never come close to capturing; but our tactics so far have helped immensely."

"Do those tactics include dominatrix gear and lingerie?" Dick asked, pulling down his hospital smock to help fend off the cool, air-conditioned breeze of the facility.

"Sure," Inez added. "If we looked like your regular Mulder/Scully federal agent team; with dark glasses, dark suits, flashing badges everywhere, then anyone with someone to hide would be long gone. By creating 'Area-69; Sex-Superstore', no one guesses our true purpose, and Nymphoids by the hundreds have been enticed to come right into our clutches over the years. Since all of us pass through the Store above, and work there to keep up appearances, it's often convenient to wear the same outfits down here." Dick was finding it extremely difficult to remain professional; struggling not to steal glances at Inez's pleasantly plump C-cups suspended in stocking.

"How utilitarian. But...where did they all come from? You say there are dozens of species? Where have they been all this time?"

"They've been all around us, for all of history. You're looking for some simple, pat answer for their origins; There isn't one. We've documented dozens of strains with magical, technological, and alien origins. But there are any number of Myths and Legends that obscure the truth; that's largely their own doing. Many Nymphoids have perpetuated deceits and false histories over the centuries so that mankind would never fully appreciate the nature of the struggle. And now, in this modern, skeptical age, many of them have been able to feed freely and with impunity. Even if the truth were known, almost no one would believe it."

"But...but...someone should at least TRY to spread the word; if there are so many - "

"We can't;" Talia cut him off. "At least not yet. Our own government, and that of the Old Soviet Union are responsible for many of them."

"Lemme guess; Cold-War 'Honey-Trap' sexpionage?" Dick surmised.

"Exactly; while there's no one source for the Nymphoids, while they come from many different locations, and have very different natures, Cold-War genetic experimentation has created many new varieties in recent decades. The Soviets started out by capturing a Class 3 Supernatural; known as a Rusalka in Old Russian Folklore, turning her....er...it into a Communist Agent and sending it to seduce politicians in Washington." Talia said.

"And our side couldn't be left behind," Inez continued; "We found ancient Nymphoid predators that had fed upon Native Americans centuries ago, and we've used them for the same purpose in retaliation."

As Mistress Talia spoke next, she arrived at a sealed, secured, automatic set of double-doors and began typing in a security key-code. "But these beings are untrustworthy, volatile, and always dangerous. Experiment after Experiment went out of control; their lusts were too extreme; their need to feed upon men's sexual energies overwhelmed any other incentive or threat. Now, it's all we can do to seal them away; contain them, try to study their powers for the good of mankind, or at least to keep them bottled up." The secured door slid open into what seemed to be an airlock. The room was smooth, white, and sterile-looking. A panel in the side wall slid open and produced a rack of bluish, translucent, gelatinous material in syringes.

"Libidinex; like a Cold Shower in a test-tube." Inez joked. "For personel of all genders, it's a requirement before contact with a Nymphoid." The reality of the situation and the awesome implications of this facility hadn't quite sunken in until Dick injected the cool, tingly fluid into his arm. In moments, his crotch felt.....crowded....like some great weight was blocking his normal, sexual response.