XXXecil's: The CockOut Bk. 02

Traffic was backed up. Giving him time to think. Didn't really want to argue with January anymore. Nothing more to be said. Just thinking. Flipping through radio stations. A perky female announcer remarked on the latest government shutdown, he'd never paid much attention to politics before. But now? He brushed a strand of his long, raven-dark hair away from his sharp brow ridge.

Another show; someone claiming to be an Army colonel assuring the audience that they'd found a new weapon against the Mimeticus invasion, at a secret research base in an undisclosed location. Mimeticus, part of a complex, taxonomic designation for the aliens.

Xavier shook his head with a hearty scoff. Another secret research base. Made the crisis worse. The first purges had the aliens rounded up to those secret facilities; the Feds thinking they could be studied. Only made it worse.

It was weird how little things had changed from attempts to fight them - instead of busty beauty queens trolling the streets for men, you had busty beauty queens trolling the streets for men and using preternatural powers of seduction they'd evolved in order to seduce the men who'd captured them. The purges had simply removed the ancestral shape-shifters without special powers of attraction.

No one on the news seriously thought they could be eliminated anymore. Now, politicians were preaching tolerance - at least I hoped they were politicians; and not the SheMorphs that had replaced them.

*****

The coed-aged Hispanic-tanned sex-kitten slithered across the hood of the car, moaning sensuously as she dragged a wet ice cube down the shuddering valleys of her heaving, bikini-clad bosom. Rolling over, she writhed as though making love to Xavier's car hood while balancing the ice cube against the jutting terrain of her bubble-butt. Glistening rivulets of moisture trailed down the photoshoot oil sheen of her lubed-up skin.

On his side of the Cadillac, a saffron-complexioned Persian-looking girl turned her mesmerizing-ebony eyes on him, batting her calligraphy lashes flirtatiously, until she rose high enough to display oil-glistening tits bulging below and beneath a deliberately too-small pink bikini top that scarcely contained mammalian treasures just large enough to prevent his hand from encircling them without sinking into a creamy wonderland of jiggling titopia.

Which he didn't try.

Below her boobs was the - "FREE CAR WASH" hand-painted sign he expected.

"The NERVE of these bitches! January snarled; adjusting her pregnant belly against the seatbelt.

"Makes sense; they are Bacchanals, after all. Look at 'em." He reminded her.

"I know YOU'VE been looking." January razzed with a roll of her eyes.

"That's not... never mind." He shook his head. The Bacchanal strain first popped up in Miami, preying on horny beachgoers. Their lineage possessed a hyper-pheromone ability released through some kind of body oil that disabled human inhibitions. Every day was like a swimsuit edition lubed in glistening sex appeal. Like the auburn-haired whore at the first house he'd seen today...

"They're not really dangerous unless you're close enough to touch them." He told her. With car windows rolled up securely, the pair was safe from their lusty powers. All they could throw at him were curvilicious female figures sparkling with wet trails of dripping lust - not to mention beauty-makeover faces panting with their need for seed. The juicy mutants had utterly dominated Miami, supplanting the original SheMorph infestation after the second Purge. Down there, probably wasn't one man out of ten-thousand that didn't spend his days gurgling in ecstasy as he hosed his sperm into their slickened cunts. And now the overflow from their slippery harems was spreading like an oil stain through the warmer States, evolving faster as they feasted on the sperm of the unwary.

Xavier wasn't worried; knowledge was power. Just don't get within five feet of the bikini-licious hottie slick with body oil. You could see the danger, if you knew what to look for. Compared with other strains, they had the same mix of ethnicities, yet tended to be more muscular. Less like runway models, more like fitness models.

The word from government whistleblowers described a secret Army base built beneath the Everglades where thousands of their sultry ancestors were stored and studied. But the Brass fucked up - literally. They horribly underestimated the need for female guards... and the men were... men. Until they weren't.

With sufficient male admirers, a single SheMorph could natalize into eight offspring in a month. Any mutation that aided her ability to lure lusting cocks would ensure more and more replications from horny soldiers that took the posting as a joke. And she would beg for your dick. As it turned out; you could fuck her once, no real harm. Not only that, it was great. Best sex of your life. And since once was cool; why not do it... do her - again. Maybe once more. And she'd thank you like you were saving her life! You were. And there's only so much constant flattery a man can take from a jaw-dropping goddess that should have been Playmate of the Year. But once you made a habit of your dick in her cunt, you were doomed.

Then one day, the soldier would wake up, and find his dick didn't fit his camo-pants anymore. Before he knows it; he's addicted to her - and there's no hope of not fucking her... just one more time.

But then, on a top-secret black-box base, multiple shifts... and EVERYONE knowing they could have a quickie with the achingly erotic prisoner... All the sudden, she becomes pregnant; and in minutes there are two of them. And it's all downhill from there.

Each top-secret base became an evolutionary pressure-cooker where those that survived were the few mutants more seductive than their sisters. Those best able to arouse a man's libido beyond all reason could feed, and flourish - and escape.

Radio-Free Earth was back - "... with a special guest! We have here Agent X - whose prefers to remain anonymous - with his firsthand account of the true dangers of the SheMorphs, and the way that our government has failed us!

"Thank you Judy, I'll never forget her... it... the Subject. They kept her in a glass tube, the eggheads running tests all day; they were excited - learning all kinds of ten-dollar words about her biology, and... We let our guard down. The science-team, and then the guards... we all learned how to loop the camera feed, so no one would know that we were sneaking in quick fucks with the - "

"Please restrict use of graphic language as much as possible," The host admonished.

"Uh... right but, wow! She would'a stole the show if they'd made her the Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover girl! And we knew she was in there, naked - all the time. Getting so excited whenever a man was in the room. Tanned, leggy, those eyes, and the way her tits would -"

"Yes, we get the picture, how did the facility become compromised?" The host re-directed.

"Just a matter of time; she was a blue-eyed blonde when the scientists were there, then after hours - once I saw a janitor come in, and she darkened her skin and hair - started speaking Spanish. She'd become whatever she had to and... I promised myself I wouldn't but, I'd been arguing with the wife and...

"You surrendered to temptation."

"Damn, it was the best uh... sexual activity I ever had. No woman ever wanted it so much as when I was... uh... with her. She didn't mind being our prisoner, she just wanted us; wanted men. I lost track of how many times I'd... been with her. And she got pregnant, but it just took minutes! She split into two girls! God! So gorgeous! Can't stop thinking about them!"

"What happened then?"

"Had to hide her! We were only supposed to have one! Tried to smuggle her out! It seemed like such a good idea; she was persuasive, Bacchanal strain probably, the scent of her! Other guys... started doing the same. Just that one, with the men fu- erhh... engaged in sexual congress enough for nine Natalizations that I found out about."

"But you didn't report this activity?"

"No! I was guilty too! Too many of us were. The Brass; they didn't get it. Underestimated everything. It's not only that they're so... willing. But it's the idea of having one, possessing her as your own. Just too easy. Once containment was broken, there's no telling how many others slipped free..."

"And there were just enough female staff to get the project scrubbed," The Host announced; "But by then it was too late. The men assigned to protect us surrendered to the pleasure of their harems, all descended from the most seductive mutant."

Angrily, Xavier switched off the radio.

What made it worse was that people thought the problem was under control; the purges had removed them, so we thought. And the Army didn't admit the boondoggle until it was far too late. So by the time the first few flirtatious fugitives hitch-hiked their way to Miami (feasting from horny truckers the whole way) no one suspected alien infiltration - that problem had supposedly been fixed. So all the guys on the prowl thought they'd gotten lucky when the hottest babe in the bar went home with them. Next thing a guy knows, his dick won't fit in his pants; and he can't stop himself... with her. Easy meat. All you had to do was NOT resist the packs of predatory porn-stars dripping with supermodel glamour on their relentless quest for cock. Replaced with a doppelganger. Succumb to mind-shattering bliss in the arms of your replicating harem. The Bacchanal strain was multiplying...spreading...fucking. And that was just one species.

"Summer is ending, and with Bacchanals, their seduction strategy is less effective in the colder months..." I supplied. January scoffed.

"So this is their annual big push to get enough Cock to tide them over Winter." she sneered. But however much they got, they would always need more.

"They've got no choice after driving the Strip clubs out of business." You used to get a lot of their kind in places like that." Xavier reflected; "Rub a pair of pheromone-oil tits in a guy's face - and it was all she wrote. But now? Any man these days that would've been into that sort of thing got just what he wanted, and cocked-out years ago.

"Their kind, Bacchanals... that was when I first realized how serious this was," January offered, eyes far-staring. I knew what she meant. Years ago, we'd all been glued to our TV's when the South Beach feeding frenzy made the news.

Hundreds, thousands of oil-slicked alien whores rutting with animal abandon upon the raging cocks of every man in sight. Their kind were the first to screw naked, in public. No shame. No restraint. No condoms. The South Beach Frenzy was their breakout moment. Hundreds of procreating pairs, shuddering in orgasmic ecstasy. The newscast tried (almost successfully) to blur out the bouncing breasts and torpedoing cocks of the copulating couples. Near the shore, there was a line of glistening female asses like a stadium wave undulating rhythmically as the Bacchanals rode the cocks they'd lured with bra-busting beauty, as well as mind-bending sex-musk.

No one knew what they were facing then. Including the male cops that attempted to arrest the slippery law-breakers; but to arrest them - you had to touch them. Be close to them. Smell the hyper-pheromones that did things to the male human brain scientists hadn't thought possible. Xavier still remembered the sight of that Miami P.D. cruiser- wrapped around a telephone pole. The cop actually thought he could arrest three of the glistening beauties, and put them in the close quarters of a squad car - and remain in control of himself. In moments, wrecking his vehicle ceased to matter compared to the lust-musk from the she-devils that fucked him. Men trying to arrest them only added to the orgy, which spread on the backs of besotted men being screwed from on top in broad daylight.

But not Him. They wouldn't get to him.

"They think they can get me to leave my wife for..." I stopped myself - of course January wasn't my wife, but the aliens didn't know that - or care. I detected a blush from my pornstar-girlfriend-business partner. "Er... that's what they're thinking." I added unnecessarily.

January muttered something under her breath about home wrecking alien bitches. This from an ex call-girl with the politician-ruining client list. Always easier to see the mote in the other (wo)man's eye. It was hard to see the expression on her face, with Ice-cube girl waving her string-bikini barely-clad crotch at him from the hood of the car.

"Does a lioness care about breaking up the family of a gazelle?" I wondered out loud. To live for love. Sex was both desire and survival: Too long without fresh DNA and a SheMorph would lose control. Of everything. It was... quite a sight. But in the end, they'd die. How could such a creature feel guilty, when the sperm of some married man could save her life?

"You... you don't need them." January insisted, but then she got a mischievous grin in her long-lashed eyes.

"What do you..." But I was interrupted. We'd been sitting in traffic for quite a while; and she wanted to stick it to the SheMorphs... in moments his pants were unzipped and for the first time this week - it seemed she actually enjoyed sucking my cock.

It was a cruel, womanly revenge - January feasting on my manmeat in full view of the hungry seducers. Outraged shock chiseled on their beauty-queen faces. The Persian girl actually moaned with frustration as she saw the rigid prize she was denied. Bikini tops vanished and swelling boobs pressed against the glass of the windows like raisin-studded pancakes.

"Oh, nice..." Jan went to her fellatio with unusual enthusiasm. But I didn't need to let the SheMorphs in; their lurid enticements enhanced the experience of having my dick sucked by my ex-porn star girlfriend. They'd already demonstrated their sex-sense; the way a shark could smell blood from miles away, alarms went off in their heads whenever a man was aroused. So a moistened beauty with chestnut hair and dimply cheeks did not surprise me as she scampered up to the car. The newcomer panted with hysteria at the hunger kindled by the blowjob she was sensing. The passenger side window began to fog with her frantic breath as she looked in on the sex denied her. It was interesting; to push the aliens to their limits; as velvety waves of undulating delight washed over my member. January purred between my legs; heightening the sensation.

In between the writhing beauties in front of me, I happened to notice a balding, 40-ish cubical wage slave in a Camry in front of me in the gridlock. 'He' doused himself with bottled water while unlocking the Camry's driver-side door. The door opened to reveal a dripping wet jail-bait sex-kitten with slicked-back chocolate hair twining playfully near her kissable lips. In the old world; every million-dollar modeling agency in New York would be beating down the door of this aching beauty - but in this sex-drenched present; she was about to beat down mine. As well versed as the aliens were at masquerading as the men they replaced; they could never ignore the possibility of a fresh fuck.

I didn't know, and scarcely cared what man-eating mutation the newcomer boasted. And yet... I groaned as the fellatio continued, smiling as I reveled in the spectacle. The SheMorphs' desperate seduction only enhanced the stimulation of the blowjob...

But that was when the traffic jam let up.

"Give you something to look forward to," January teased as she disengaged with a wet pop.

Xavier hit the gas immediately, despite his erect frustration - heedless of the squeals of the displaced SheMorphs clinging to the car. He also tried not to think about the pair of men's pants flying in the breeze after being jettisoned from some other vehicle on the road.

**********

His car was more than a Cadillac; and in the end, Xavier was optimistic - confident he could avoid the fate of ... damn! They were getting bolder! Near the south side of town, he couldn't help but stare at a pack of Sirens and the prize they'd snagged.

The radio warned about their strain quite a bit; and he'd taken the information to heart. Unlike the poor bastard at the stop sign to the right of the street where he and January drove. But Xavier's ride had protections built in.

This guy, he seemed like a Japanese businessman driving a rental - and odds were, he'd never drive again. That was the furthest thing from his mind right now, undoubtedly. But closer to his cock was a Siren. The moaning she-demon squeezed shut her eyes in a rictus of rapture as she pistoned herself upon the cock of the man she straddled, even from afar - the wetness of her sex still gleamed. This strain had a signature look serving as a warning; they mostly resembled ivory-skinned Slavic beauties with glossy hair blacker than the night sky. Light and dark in dick-hardening contrast. Though a SheMorph could adopt virtually any human form, Sirens most often assumed this appearance when not exerting effort. Some genetic relic from the sexy mutant that seduced her way out of whatever black-ops lab had failed to control her ancestors.

The rumors were true; their shapeshifting ability had adapted to the point where they could modulate their voices to produce exotic sound waves that could affect human emotions. If Mr. Tokyo made the mistake of driving past with the windows rolled down, it would be just a matter of time.

As the first Siren pumped up and down upon her man's hidden cock upon the hood of the rental car, her sisters slithered around him, caressing - cooing. Mouths open as they sang haunting arias that set his nerves a-tingle. A few altered their bone structure to resemble Asian women; perhaps to make him more comfortable - but their willing victim scarcely noticed; as his lover moved his hands with her own to encourage him to grope her delectable breasts. Bending over, she put a nipple into his mouth. But this milk wasn't for nourishing infants; it was another chemical weapon to make a man a prisoner of ecstasy.

Watching closely were roving orphans spilling out from harem overflows; watching - hoping for a shot.

Xavier has seen this before.

The Nature Channel. Lions on the Serengeti. Crowding around their kill. Jackals and vultures lurking on the fringes, hoping for a turn.

But it was not to be. Three larger sirens, close to the end of their Natalization cycle stood guard to repel street-dwellers that might try to horn in on the catch.

The first Siren threw back her head, releasing a blast of sound that cracked nearby windows in her reactive orgasm. They came from cum. In more ways than one. Nothing else mattered once a man erupted his seed into her aching cunt. Sperm was passion, pleasure, paradise.

Shuddering as she slid off his member to quake in her own feeding-orgasm, their target was not left alone for long. Another dark-haired sister immediately inhaled his dick and began to pulse her throat as she sucked him off. By constantly exposing his cock to their alien hormones, he would gain length and girth just a little faster, the reports indicated. Others, crooning as they slowly dragged him towards the backseat of the car. Their man lost in a toe-curling world of scintillating sin that left him delirious with delight. Dick a little bigger, harder, on his way to become as much a sex-monster as they were.

The whole harem would work his cock, fuck-sucking him as they sang him to sex night and day. Each time; a little bigger, little hornier. Just to feed the aliens the genetic material they needed; all day every day. If they kept the pressure on, poor bastard would cock-out in a week; and not even care.

But Xavier did care. As did a lot of other smart scientists still trying to do something, anything to resist the Invasion. Sirens were a known threat. And there were safety measures.