Coco Dynamo Ch. 01

Ben was laying in bed with his lover. They had finished a grinding, heavy-petting-filled, make-out session which turned into a nap. He was in his underwear, she had on a pink thong with a little bunny on the front and candy striped stockings, alternating white and red bands covering her shapely legs almost to her pelvis. She woke soon after he did and pressed against him, her D-sized breasts giggled and mooshed into him. He looked deeply into her cat eyes and kissed her full lips. She sighed and returned his kiss, their tongues swirled together as they embraced.

He ran his hands up-and-down her shapely form, exploring the nooks, vectors, mountains, ridges, and valleys of her back, butt, and legs. He smiled and said, "how did I get so lucky to have you curled in bed with me?"

She knew he'd ask this, it was the question they asked each other every now-and-then. Neither of them had doubts of the relationship, but this made for average-to-good pillow talk.

"Let's review," she said, "you don't rage that much, you don't yell at me, you're gentle, open-minded, and you don't hit me, unless I ask you too. And why are you with me?"

She said this, pressing herself against him harder, arching her back and thrusting her breasts up and together, forming a round arch of cleavage. He just smiled and kissed her right there. When he moved down, his head cleared her view of the clock on the nightstand. It was 1PM.

"Crap! It's one already!" she exclaimed.

"Huh-wha," he turned around and looked, "well, guess we should get moving then."

They'd driven for almost six hours to get here for a convention, a gathering of various types of nerds, punks, otakus, and costumers. Coco Dynamo and Ben White were nerds, punks, otakus, and costumers, and Coco had a growing fanbase of nerds, punks, otakus, and costumers. She didn't have the following to get a signage and a table so she could autograph things in comfort, but the fans were loyal and enjoyed contact with her, mostly because she was a gorgeous Amerasian girl, usually in a latex outfit. But she was also becoming known for her rumored adventures with Ben, including public adventures, internet adventures, and private adventures. She and Ben also enjoyed conventions in general, so they drove here. It was a business-ish vacation, an attempt for Ben to make creative contacts, and give Coco public exposure.

They reluctantly crawled out of bed to get dressed.

"So, you're going as a puritan again this time?" she baited. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the strap of her panties, yanking them up hard, causing a yelp to come out of her throat.

"I'll show you Puritan," he exclaimed, pulling her against him, both of them laughing.

"Ok, ok," she said, pushing him back, "we'll save it for later," she eyed him through squinting, sultry eyes, giving him a promise.

Coco changed in the bed room of the hotel room and Ben changed in the living room. Ben was dressing in all black, a refined suit of sorts. Black slacks, black, button-down, collared shirt, black boots, black tie, but not a standards sport jacket. The jacket he wore was longer, it went down to the backs of his knees. Only his head and hands visible, he was indeed very priestly in this, the collar high and tight, the coat fitting his form nicely. He was around 5'9", his body was a tight roping of whip cord muscles...well...they would be...some time in the future. Well, they were whip cord underneath his smooth, fair skin, you just couldn't see them. His hair was long and black, a curtain that swayed on both sides of his smooth, sharp face. His eyes were dark brown, almost like two pieces of shiny black coal, penetrating and ethereal.

Coco threw open the doors that separated the two rooms of the hotel room. Ben almost fell over. Over course, her outfits usually had that effect on him, but this one combined several elements of her outfits he liked. She had a red latex tank top on, it lifted her round, soft tits, acting like a bra/corset, pushing some parts up and out, pressing other parts in. The neck of the top scooped down quite far, showing off a long, curved line of cleavage. She had a long black skirt going down to the floor, which had a slit running up its left side, starting from the floor, terminated at her hip bone. It was a heavy material that had a slight sheen, like water at night, rippling with every move she made. The skirt had a flowery, lacy fringe, running along most of its edge getting smaller as it went to her hip. The candy striped stockings were still there, with a small lacy garter on each leg, but now they entered into patent leather, high-heeled, platformed boots, all shiny and freshly polished the night before. She had on arm warmers, a deep red, two latex bands around her upper arms, and a thin string acting as a choker, wrapping around her beautiful neck several times. To carry things around, she had a silk sash around her waist. It was a long, light piece of fabric, folded in half so she could tuck things into. The ensemble was all topped off with a long duster that actually lay on the floor. It was a sleeveless, light weight trenchcoat of a sorts, with a huge feathery collar. He took this all in, absorbing all of the details, roving his gaze down, then up, her body, ending his examination at her head. Her hair, which was dyed with streaks of red and had strings of beads and braids running through out it, was pulled in a large, high ponytail, and it flared out like a feather duster. She had a pair of goggles on, resting across the middle of her hair, they had a complex look, several straps and tube running out of it. In seeing this, he moved his eyes back down, noticing a series of straps, cords, and tubes connecting and holding her rig together. Rig was a good word for this get-up.

"Hon," she said, noticing this silence, "you've been standing there gawking for, like, 15 minutes. Were you describing my outfit to yourself in your head, again?"

He smirked and shrugged, still unable to form coherent sentences, his eyes absorbing the curves of her body. He stepped forward and, putting his arms into the duster, embraced her. Her boobs were on his collar bone, normally she was about two inches shorter than he was, but the huge, spike heels on those boots added about half-a-foot to her overall height. This brought her breasts tantalizingly close to his mouth.

"You're gorgeous, my cyberpunk queen," he said. He had to bend his head back and she brought her's down to kiss him.

And so, they were off to the convention. They wandered around, looking through booths, chatting it up with other goers, and Coco got her picture taken with several of the more lonely (or ronery, depending on otaku-level) guys (and a girl or two). Several t-shirt kiosks attracted Ben's attention. When he was lounging around not dressed as a pseudo-puritan, he tended to wear shirts with funny slogans. Coco was across the aisle, looking at some egg-shaped toy. They looked familiar, for some reason, to Ben.

"Why does it feel like I've seen these before?" He asked Coco, moving over to her.

"They were big a few years ago," she said bouncing one up and down, the cartoony face smiling at the baby-like treatment.

"Yeah, nothing scary there," he commented.

"Can I help you," the girl running the booth said, in a valley-girl accent. She was dressed as a nurse, in full latex regalia. Most things at this booth were all slightly off; weird trinkets, doodads, and baubles. Ben thought it all look like import stuff, but even for import stuff it was odd.

"Oh no, just looking at the egg thingies here," Coco said, putting the egg back, it's face returning to a neutral-bored expression, "they just look like a toy that was made when we were younger."

"Yep, we're remaking them," the nurse booth girl attendant said, "these are exclusive's for this convention only."

Coco actually looked as if she were considering buying one, but she was leaning towards no.

"You know," the nurse said, "speaking of looking familiar, why do I feel like I've seen you somewhere?"

Coco smiled, "I'm Coco Dynamo, have your heard of me?"

"Ohhhh," the nurse said, "I think I've seen you on the internet."

"Yeah, I do get around on that place."

Ben was moving on, so Coco thanked the nurse for the noticing and moved with him. The nurse shot a look towards the curtains at the back of the booth.

Coco and Ben gave the convention a quick once-over and decided to leave. When they got near the exit, they saw a couple panicked people running from the general location of the egg selling nurse's booth.

"What's going on over there," Ben inquired.

"Probably just some star," Coco said, only half paying attention.

"Well, why would they be running out of the convention's entrance, screaming."

Coco looked up, "yeah, actually, that is weird."

A loud boom sounded from the center of the convention crowd, the populous of the room flew into confused panic. Ben looked over at Coco, who just returned a questioning look. A group of furries was thrown high into the air by something on the other side of booths. A round shape appeared, an arch of off-white rising above said sales outlets, which were quickly emptying.

"You know what the one problem is with being with you?" Ben said, smirking up at Coco.

"I can guess..." she said.

He sighed, "it's the almost constant random monster attacks."

Above the booth structures and tables, a giant, poorly painted oval now stood. It nearly touched the ceiling of the center, it had large yellow, blood shot eyes, the pupils tiny and beading, looking over the crowds with malice. It's spindly black arms waved knocking some taller displays over and shattering a few of the fluorescents that lit the large room. Just below the eyes, a jagged mouth opened, a green glow behind a thick slimy black tongue.

The egg monster roared.