BSU: Second Audition Book 01byxxxecil©
** A return to my days as a purveyor of quick, dirty smut, on behalf of a paying client, be warned! Smut ahead!!**
A Bodyshifter's Universe Story
XXXecil for Hire
With invisible hands the wind caressed the billowing folds of the flowing skirt of fire engine red as it hugged the curves of the scintillating beauty. Yes, this was the right hospital; Mercy General West. And today was the day. The woman was a leggy, caramel-colored vision of Gorgeous, seemingly more suited to a high-fashion runway in Milan or perhaps Rome.
She stood ready on the sidewalk near the area where family members most often picked up discharged patients for whom the operation of a motor vehicle was not recommended so soon after their hospitalization. And the woman was well prepared, so she thought. She had reached the right spot, so for a moment she stood as her eyelids fluttered – to see if she could sense him the way she normally could.
Just twinges, faintly warm pulses of fleeting desire burned in her belly, not quite enough to moisten her sex with desire. A mirrored desire. She felt the source of the warm energy passing rapidly on the street behind her, and her scarlet dress seemed to both rise and flutter in a way that afforded a scandalous glimpse of her athletically sculpted legs supporting the moon-like curvature of her firm buttocks. The wave of pleasure intensified for a moment, (Probably a family-man holdout) but then a sudden screech of tires brought it swiftly to an end. No crash however. That might've really boosted her spirits; in this town it was getting harder and harder to cause car accidents no matter what she did. It shouldn't be necessary, but while she knew she was gorgeous a little fender bender now and again was very encouraging.
But not this time, and not from the right source. Already, it took almost half a day of running errands in public before she might sense the sweet energy of male lust. Her nectar of the gods. And it was getting worse all the time. That's why the woman in a red dress had a plan, she had taken the time to learn and study and pick a target. Something she learned from a ... Friend of hers. If anyone like her could be said to really have friends. The chase, the hunt was everything.
But today should be easy; with all the prep time she'd put into this chase. Red was the color. Her ensemble passionate, yet teetering on the bosomy brink of titillation. Just the right blend of skin revealed from her mile-high-club legs, with cleavage a hair's breadth away from a wardrobe malfunction that she didn't need in order to be desired.
With any luck, when her man was revealed he'd be wondering why he hadn't seen her on a magazine somewhere? Her behavior... appearance tended to confuse a lot of men: Why would a woman of her caliber be here - in a fly-over-country town like this? It amused her - the explanations some men devised. Her favorite theory was that she was a fashion model banished from competition for getting caught fucking too many of the judges. If they only knew...
But few would make such a mistake nowadays; nor was mass-media much of an option - what with all the flux and uncertainty in fashion-modeling. There was talk that the bottom was going to fall out of the whole industry! But that only made it more imperative that she start nesting soon.
And... there! There he was! Despite the fact that his legs worked perfectly well, the short and pudgy man was pushed out in a wheelchair, per standard discharge procedure. To a... normal girl he would have been nothing special. One more pudgy, horseshoe-pattern balding accountant-type. Only remarkable in how short he was. Ordinarily, the only way he could attract the type of woman she seemed to be was through bank-breaking wealth to stagger a small country. But she didn't consider herself... abnormal. Not anymore. What happens when the abnormality becomes the normality? Who's the freak then?
Boldly, the woman in the scarlet dress stalked up to him, intending to take over from the nurse. But that nurse herself was only another reminder of the problem. She didn't really look like a seasoned, medical professional. Her fresh-faced beauty and scandalous curves cast in her in the mold of a sexy-gag nurse. The sexual caricature come full circle to actually perform the job for which she seemed to be a mockery of. But that was getting more and more common.
Her man, her mark turned towards her as she strode forward. There it was... a hot spark washed over and in her. His desire, his lust. She could feel it. She could inhale it. Her kind could detect the invisible, narcotic currents and bathe in the pleasure. She needed the ability to sense a man's craving for a woman. It was survival itself to her.
She knew how to tilt her hips to best effect, confident yet sultry. The seduction would begin before any words were spoken. He would plunder her with his eyes. This short, stubby little man. The leering that might have angered another girl was like mother's milk to her - if she'd actually had a mother. This pale, toad of a man was undressing her with his eyes.
It was perfect!
He was perfect!
The woman in red knew that he'd had a difficult surgery, and had needed extensive rehabilitation to build his strength back up. He'd scarcely left the hospital in months; and few of the nurses were... like her. So he knew only bits and pieces of the way things were changing. Single of course. He had enough of an income to be stable, but too nerdy and soft to attract solid girls. That was the way she wanted to think of them. Solid. Not like her. Soon, they wouldn't necessarily be 'normal' anymore. Just different from her breed.
Under the new rules, that made him a plum... a prize to be plucked. One of the last of the deliciously hopeless nerds that worked so well for someone like her.
But she wasn't the only one.
She should have known when the tires screeched from so close behind her this time. It was from a powerful engine; a glossy black shape streaked past her on the road, hastily intercepting the woman in red.
It was a limousine.
She gulped in fear.
Recklessly, the stretch vehicle backed up onto the sidewalk, as if to deliberately obstruct the competition. Her.
"Ciao, Professore Metzger!" cooed a sleek, jade-eyed goddess with raven black hair and a brown-sugar tan. Two others slid from the doors of the limo, each a leggy vision of the cream of womanhood.
"N-NOOO!!!" the woman in red muttered, eyes widening in shock. They knew! They knew that Ronald Metzger had long nurtured a secret, hopeless craving for Italian supermodels! It was an easy enough fetish to fulfill, but they... they had done the research too! Learned the language! Just like the woman in red. But their approach was less subtle; each of the seven sleek hotties was barely-clad in lacy push-up lingerie as elaborate as they were scandalous. "NOT....Again!?!" She'd been down this road before.
"Wh-who?" Metzger was utterly confused.
But the woman in red recognized the license plate. The car, and the girls were all part of the Renquist Nest. The biggest, richest, sexiest gang in town. They'd had the same sources of information she did! Probably better! Metzger's sexual weakness revealed, and played to the hilt.
"I am Bella; Che piacere vederti!" And with that greeting, a bronze-haired beauty with a gossamer-black garter (and little else) extended her graceful hand in the expectation of a gentlemanly kiss. Though thoroughly confused, Metzger did not disappoint. That clever little bitch! A demure greeting would give the man a comforting fiction that HE was the aggressor.
When in reality he was the Meat.
But the kiss had another purpose, the close contact would expose him to her pheromones.
The raven-haired goddess took the push-handles of the wheelchair away from the sexy-nurse.
"We'll take over from here," Assured yet another red-lace-wearing dream girl who looped Metzger's arm over her shoulder to help hoist him into the waiting limo.
"Whoa... what... I don't know who you - " He tried to protest, until Bella silenced him with a hungry, face-hugging kiss. Miss Raven hair caressed his bald head as though he were some precious little bunny about to escape in terror. Which was not far off.
"We just want to help you celebrate your recovery!" She decided.
"Mmmnggglllhh..." Metzger murmured against the lip-locked goddess. Finally, he yanked his lips from hers with a pant. "W-wait... I think I heard of this... rumors about some sort of - "
"Lies..." insisted a fourth girl, with especially plump lips. " You've no idea how handsome... desirable you are to us." The pudgy professor's face crinkled in stunned disbelief. "It's just for a little while;" plump lips assured. But that kiss; it was more than just a way to keep his lips busy, nor was it a result of any familiarity. They could practically bathe a man in pheromones that way, electrifying parts of the male brain even scientists barely understood. His every instinct would soon be screaming at him to breed.
"Just party with us for a few...hours." The one calling herself Bella cooed, as she and her dark-haired sister hoisted him through the door. Yeah, if a 'few' hours meant about 10,000 or more!
"But... this... this type of thing n-never happens to me!" Of course not, the woman in red mused - that made him more valuable. That line of reasoning soon seemed to fade away, as his eyelids began to flutter. A tangy, musky perfume he would have barely noticed was having its libido-supercharging effect.
Chemical attractants weren't the end of their plan. The Renquist Nest was well prepared for most any contingency. From the other side of the limo, a lingerie-goddess of truly Amazonian stature slowly rose to an impressive height, with amber hair down to the middle of her back. She wore skimpy red lace - but not to seduce Metzger; she headed straight for the competition.
Her eyes narrowed angrily at the woman in red, she was fantastically gorgeous, yes. But she was here to threaten, not entice. Her breasts were plump and massive; and they seemed to inch just a bit larger - as if to provide yet another barrier to a competitor. She was a Bouncer. A cunt-block, for lack of a better term.
"No room for strays..." she hissed from on high in a knife-edge voice that brooked no compromise. But... what could the woman in red say? There was no doubt she was after the exact same prize; but the Renquist nest had the money and muscle to stake a claim and defend it...him?
"It's temporary;" one of the Italian beauty-queens breathed soothingly, to comfort their prey. That was a lie; strategy of a conqueror - always obscure your true objective.
"D-doesn't make sense..." Metzger protested. He was thinking of the old rules, the old balance between men and women. So deliciously naive. That innocence made him vulnerable.
Yes, it was bizarre. Sudden, and confusing. But the simple fact of the matter was that he was a man. A simpler fact was that he'd fantasized obsessively over something like this ever since his first teenaged wet-dream. He should have been worried; but there was really no hope of him refusing. That was why the woman in red had come here! Researched his likes and lusts!
As they dragged him into the vehicle, fear warred with craving as his hands tried to fend off his capture, and yet grope the supple, supermodel-soft bodies crowding around him.
"You don't even have to fuck us all," said another of the beauties. "Only the girls you like the best!" Another lie; the Renquist nest was getting desperate; by nightfall Professor Metzger would feel like a mechanical bull at a rodeo-enthusiasts convention. Dozens of ravishing women would ride him like there was no tomorrow. The car door slammed shut on the hopes of the woman in red, locking in the hapless male prey for a week of the best sex of his life... after which sex would BECOME his life. Their prize secured, cunt-blocker got back in, as the limo unceremoniously pulled away.
Just like that.
The woman in red stood flabbergasted for a moment. Sexy-nurse nodded with understanding and gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.
The Renquist sluts. Not that she was much better. But them! Metzger's shelf-life just went waaaaay down. Now that they had a man again, they'd be the Renquist Harem... or more properly the Metzger Harem. How long would he last?
It was odd that the limo didn't have tinted windows. Most would, for a man like the old Renquist...had been. But not this one; as if the sluts wanted everyone to see what they did to their men.
The taller one, cunt-blocker didn't even wait until they'd cleared the hospital roundabout before she was on him. Being larger than the others, she was able to muscle her way past them, to be the first at the new man. She could be seen arching her spine, encouraging Metzger to fondle her spectacular breasts. She was straddling him, and though an outsider could not see the junction between them, she knew - she could see that perfect moment where the tanned beauty impaled herself on the rapidly hardening shaft of this man. The woman in red could see - even though the car was moving - that clarion flash of perfect ecstasy. Cunt-block's expression brightened as if plunging into a hot tub after an hour in a blizzard: A hot tub of boiling pleasure. When one of her kind has to do without for a while, a return to cock can be mind-blowing. The successful huntress slammed her palm against the window of the limo as cascading throbs of orgasmic thunder ravaged her - not to mention her latest prize. Sending out hunting parties in a limo was deliberate: The others not able to fuck Metzger would be either plastering him with kisses, or spreading their legs to wave their pussies at him. More musk. The large back seat and enclosure of a limousine allowed a gang of them to blast a man with concentrated mating musks all at once. Now that they had him, Metzger's higher intellect would be buried beneath a raging drive to inseminate these females no matter the cost. The sheer lunacy of their approach wouldn't matter - only the electric hunger to caress their tantalizing skin, suck their hardened nipples - and most of all give their steamy sexes the battering-ram treatment. Mind and body paralyzed by rapturous pleasure. But for the hunting party, the woman in red, and all their kind, pleasure and orgasms was not why they chased men.
It was about survival.
And after all of it, all that prep time - the woman in red was left with nothing. Well... not quite true.
As the car sped off, one of the windows rolled down, and an object - two objects fluttered out onto the wind. They were his pants. Pants and underwear. Because Ronald Metzger would never be wearing such garments again. All it took to capture him were seven pornographic goddesses matching his most cherished sexual fantasy, making him a willing captive in a prison of non-stop orgies. This stunted toad of a man who was now a prize worth fighting for.
The lust slammed into the woman in red like a fuzzy tsunami to set her pulse racing and her pussy to moisten - the raw magnitude of the male desire she sensed staggered her. But she didn't need her special sensitivities to detect the triumph, the exultation of the Renquist hunting pack with their quick, timely capture that would sustain the Nest/Harem through many more viable generations.
Then again, perhaps one of their promises hadn't been exactly a lie: The Renquist hunting pack had promised this was temporary; but Metzger's body would face a challenge like never before; how long before he joined the elder Renquist...
Heart failure from a catastrophic orgasm.
They'd burn through every lonely geek in this town with a fornication-feeding frenzy of open thighs and bared breasts in no time flat.
And after dozens of ravishing supermodel-look-alikes had fucked him to death - the problem would be even worse. Harems should never grow so large; most of them would start kicking out members at about half of Renquists' size. But they found a way to make it profitable...manageable from that huge mansion on the edge of town. Now, their large numbers gave them more power, more money.
But with her, Metzger could have lasted so much longer! She was just a good as they were; every bit as seductive!
But there was only one of her.
For several hopeless moments, she actually chased after the speeding limo; as hopeless as Metzger's romantic prospects would have been - as little as a year ago...
But something in her peripheral vision brought the beauty in red out of her anxious tantrum: A squat office building about a block away from the Hospital.
It was a man.
A non-assuming black guy of thoroughly average stature. He had a pack of cigarettes and was evidently heading off to the back for a smoke break.
No, she didn't know him, hadn't prepared for him, but he was still a man; she should be able to snag him! Breathing heavily to calm her nerves, she strategized for a moment on how best to prepare. Should she try a celebrity?
Stepping into the shadows, her skin darkened, her face seemed to blur, and her clothes grew sparkling sequins. Was Beyonce' the way to go? A partial reflection in a nearby shop window revealed the pop-superstar in all her blond-styled glory. A few months ago, yes. But the sudden appearance of a world-renowned celebrity could prove so distracting, that it might trigger other emotions than the ones she wanted. Better to get a feel for the man first. Then she'd have a better idea when and how to fulfill his deepest yearnings.
Who then? Perhaps someone anonymous to start with... to feel him out. She returned with a blurring motion to her Italian beauty-queen Woman-in-Red persona, then contemplated some alterations. Her skin darkened several shades from caramel to a rich milk-chocolate complexion. Her hair darkened to a midnight ebony color, but with sharper gold highlights dangling in seductive strands down her swan-like neck. Then, her 'you're-gonna-score-tonight' flowing red dress...
The fabric contracted as if being sucked into itself. The texture shifted into a rough, blue denim. Suddenly she was wearing outrageous booty-shorts to expose the sweep of her toned hot-chocolate legs. Her top had become a see-through white athletic bra, assailed from within by delicious, squeezable breasts just large enough to allow the suggestion of nipples to poke through the white fabric. But why stop there?
With a pleasant jiggle, her boobs filled out just a bit more, enough to strain the straps of her top, to give that lusty impression of bosomy fertility straining to break free. But this was a black guy! What about her ass! That already pleasingly round derriere blossomed suddenly into jutting twin planets to challenge the female undergarment industry and set to drooling the most woman-jaded Hip-Hop celeb.
As she strode down the alleyway towards her hoped-for mark, she willed her pussy to release a potent pheromone musk with honey-suckle undertones. To most men, it wouldn't be much more noticeable than store-bought perfume. She knew the Renquist girls preferred a cocoa-butter scent that worked well in close confines to turn men into rampaging pussy-maniacs; but she thought her floral scent was excellent for drawing men in close.
What to say? Often didn't matter. She just had to come up with some excuse to get in close... and his male nature would do the rest! Yikes! As hot-to-trot as she was, he might do her right here! Up against the wall! Her nipples throbbed at the thought.
But now, the moment of truth.
"Excuse me, do you have the - Christina Hendricks?!?"
Sure enough, it was the spicy red-headed sextress herself; or her spitting image. Her fiery hair coiffured as though in preparation for the glitziest Hollywood gala. But her creamy flesh was otherwise naked. She smoked the exact same cigarettes that the false-man had been holding. Christina shrugged, and took a puff.