Carlos and Neil Do Oku-con

Had the judging actually been based on sheer male-gaze sex appeal, the top prize would likely have gone to the busty Faye Valentine who engineered an "accidental" costume malfunction that freed her jiggling udders in front of a crowd of hundreds (and a livestream). However, that honor was instead bestowed upon the RX-93 ν ("Nu") Gundam, which in Carlos's mind was still unquestionably the sweetest, most amazing cosplay ever. The guy hadn't even registered for the contest; the judges had to go drag him inside to the award show. He was very confused. The Faye cosplayer had to settle for winning the hastily-added category of "Best Tits."

But we digress. Carlos, robbed of witnessing those memorable displays, cast one final disappointed gaze back at the cosplay competition line as they passed, then sighed heavily. Neil didn't often register other people's feelings, but this was enough to make him glance over at his friend.

"Geez, what's eating you?" Neil asked, seeing that Carlos was looking visibly downbeat. (A level of unhappiness equivalent to severe depression in your average person.)

"Man," Carlos complained. "This con has been awesome, but I've been seeing such fucking hot chicks all day, and I know I don't have a chance of getting with any of them."

"Ha! Is that all?" Neil boasted automatically. "Dude, stick with me and we'll be doing a couple of bitches in no time!"

"Seriously?" Carlos asked, credulously. Sure, he had never known Neil to have a girlfriend; or go on a date; or flirt; or interact with any attractive female in anything other than a perfunctory way. But he sure did sound self-assured!

"Sure, man!" Neil continued. Ordinarily, the fear of public humiliation in front of a hot girl would keep him in check, but he found himself bloated with confidence via Carlos's unconscious mystical influence. "I've been reading all about picking up women. It's all scientific and shit if you know what you're doing, they literally can't help themselves from letting you in their pants. Just be my wingman, and we'll get with a couple of chicks, no problem."

"Woah!" was Carlos's initial comment, neatly encapsulating his whole standard range of emotions. "So, like... those two?" He pointed to a pair of college-aged Latinas in anime t-shirts who were enthusiastically unpacking a blind bag of Demon Slayer goods on the floor by one of the halls. They were both perfectly cute, not to mention (unbeknownst to the two males) intelligent, kind, sexually unrepressed, and pleasingly geeky; and if they had been willing to engage with unkempt weebs like Carlos or Neil in any kind of courtship context, the boys should by all rights have fallen to their hands and knees and offered up prayers of gratitude to the deity of their choice. Or at the very least, offered truly heroic amounts of cunnigulus.

Neil, clocking only that they weren't a 10/10 on the hotness scale, dismissed them out of hand. "Nah, why settle? Let's go for... them." His eyes fell on an Instagram-worthy beautiful cosplay duo who were being photographed back to back; a curvy Asian Pyra and tall, natural blonde Mythra. They would have been gorgeous any day, but due to Carlos's effects on the local cosplayers, their bodies were now even more hourglass-shaped, and their tight, bright outfits clung even tighter to their shapely curves.

"No way, man," Carlos protested. "They've gotta be totally out of our league."

"Well yeah, which means they're used to dudes being all intimidated and acting like fucking betas around them. That's why you've gotta neg them! Like, not let on that you think they're all that hot, and stuff. Besides, everyone's had to be all masked up and careful and shit for like two years, you just know that now they're all thirsty as fuck."

"That makes sense," Carlos muttered, truly in awe of Neil's insight into the female psyche.

So, following Neil's lead, Carlos trailed behind him as they approached the duo. They were just putting down their oversized weapons, but half-posed again as they approached.

"Oh, would you like a photo too?" asked the Pyra, graciously. She made an effort to be polite even to scruffy-looking weirdos.

Neil didn't respond, at first, just running his eyes up and down each of the cosplayers' bodies in turn, critically. The two stood there, momentarily stunned that anyone would be quite so brazenly creepy. And then Neil opened his mouth:

"Nice cosplay. Shame you two aren't a little prettier, or they'd be perfect. You wanna come hang out in our room or something?"

There was a pregnant pause, full of disbelief from the two women, and childish, eager hope from Carlos. Only the latter had the force of the universe backing it up.

---------

Twenty minutes later, they were back in their cramped, cluttered hotel room, now considerably more cramped with the addition of two half-undressed cosplay chicks (and their discarded weapons, which occupied at least a fifth of the available floor space all by themselves). The Mythra was sixty-nineing Carlos, though admittedly she was giving considerably better head than she was getting: she was bobbing her head up and down along Carlos's twitching dick in deep, confident strokes, while Carlos's tongue just sort of wobbled enthusiastically around her nether region like an unusually moist drunkard.

As for Neil, he was sitting back against the headboard, fulfilling his previously-thwarted dream of having a hot Japanese chick riding his cock. And he didn't even need to leave the country to do it. Take that, JET Program! (His partner was Taiwanese-American rather than Japanese, but this did not affect his particular strain of yellow fever, since he hadn't asked. In fact, he didn't even retain her name.)

Once she got a rhythm going, she leaned in with half-lidded eyes and tried to kiss Neil, but he pursed his wide, chapped lips. No kissing, that was his iron-clad (and until now, completely theoretical) rule for one-night stands. Wouldn't want bitches to start feeling like they were dating or something.

"If you wanna make out, make out with each other," he demanded, an idea that was met with enthusiastic agreement by Carlos and coy acquiescence by the girls. This was so slutty, but it was somehow exciting to be bossed around a little by a real alpha man! Even if he did smell faintly of weed and Cheetos.

Soon the beds were pushed together, as were the lips of the two women as they knelt on all fours and presented their shapely rears to the boys. They wasted no time in working their throbbing dicks into their partners' clean-shaven pussies from behind. They felt just as mind-blowingly hot and tight as Carlos thought they would.

Carlos was not one to look a gift horse, or indeed any horse, in the mouth, but this was all so out of his life experience so far that he couldn't help voicing a certain thought that had been gnawing its way into his big brain, past all the static emitting from his little one.

"Hey, Neil," he began, slowly, while he settled into a fucking groove and tugged at the Mythra's dangling nipples with one hand. "Do you think us getting lucky here could have, like, anything to do with that psychic unlock thing I did earlier?"

"Don't be a moron, Carlos," grunted Neil, slapping the Asian girl's petite butt hard and causing her to moan into the blonde's mouth. "That was all crap. There's no such thing as psychic fucking powers."

"Yeah, you're right," Carlos readily conceded, his suspicions dispelled by the confident denial of his best friend. In the face of his momentary, sincerely-held refutation of the supernatural, Carlos's burgeoning psychic potential responded by shutting itself down, lurching his mystical resonances hopelessly and forever back out of sync with the universe. And that was that.

"This is just what goes down at anime cons," Neil concluded, decisively.

"Dude," moaned Carlos, gripping the perfect curve of the Mythra's hips and blasting his spunk deep into her tight, hot cunt. "Anime cons are awesome!"

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At their next anime convention, they got themselves kicked out within the first ten minutes.