Quetzalcoatl Pt. 01

*****

Part 1 of 2

*****

Heaven. Elysium. Shangri-La. Nirvana. Valhalla. There are names and versions of a utopia once thought to be unattainable in the mortal plane. But it is in fact attainable, and I know because I live in it.

Quetzalcoatl is paradise, a paradise I'm lucky enough to call home.

I live in a small community, hidden away from the rest of the world. Only a hundred and fifty or so people live here, and none of us would ever want to leave. This area has advances in nanotechnology and stem cell research that leaves us wanting for nothing. From what I understand, it was named after a Mesoamerican creator god associated with arts and knowledge because we're given all we could ever ask for.

I've lived in Quetzalcoatl (pronounced like ketzel-co-ottle, it took me a bit to get that down myself) for about a year now and have been happy every single day. It's never boring, never sad, and the days just keep getting better and better.

It's perfect here.

Truly, utterly perfect.

*****

I wake up one Thursday morning in autumn to see only the barest hints of the approaching dawn out the window. That's unexpected, usually I sleep in a little more. Nonetheless, I find no particular reason to stay in bed for much longer; I have another wonderful day ahead of me.

I get out of bed, careful to not disturb my partner Foxie, before walking to a floor-to-ceiling mirror we have in our room. In the dim light, I allow myself a moment to admire my naked form.

I'm a 29 year old white man, 6 feet tall, with dark hair and hazel eyes. My muscles are well defined and toned without being too bulky save for a few places. While I have strong arms, shoulders, and pecs, due to my wide hips my torso has a much softer V shape than most other men as fit as I am. The bulkiest muscles on my body are my buns and thighs, which are thick and strong while still looking graceful. I have very little fat on me aside from my ample pubic mound and beefy bubble butt. I know my ass is my greatest attribute. It's well-shaped, huge, and looks like it defies gravity with how perky it is. It's definitely my most feminine asset, and it contrasts well with my huge, masculine dick. Truly a sight to behold, my cut cock is 6 inches flaccid and 9 inches erect, with two large, firm balls underneath. The only hairs on my body are my pit hairs and pubes, which are thin and wispy, almost transparent, very different from the dark hair on my head. The rest of my skin is baby smooth, spotless, and lightly tanned. Compared to my body, my face is more understated, having no facial hair and a softly defined bone structure. Overall, I love my appearance. I don't just look sexy, I look perfect.

One might perceive the detailed, proud description I've relayed as an exercise in ego, but it's really more an exercise in gratitude, because it wouldn't be possible without the technology of Quetzalcoatl. Every citizen is given specialized supplements made with nanobots that improves their lives in many aspects. Mine have done so much for my appearance and health, and with the help of my partner, I've grown to see myself as worthy of what I've been given. I really owe him a lot. He's always encouraged me to love myself and it's helped quite a bit with my confidence.

I look back at said partner. Foxie is fast asleep, curled up on his side. He's fucking adorable, as usual. I look at the shape his little ass makes under the sheet and am sorely tempted to pull down the cover and fuck him, which is one of his favorite ways to be woken up. Eventually I decide to let him sleep, he got a lot of work done yesterday and deserves some more rest.

I stretch my muscles a bit before grabbing my one article of clothing, the only one I ever need. The dress code is pretty relaxed here; a few men just have a loincloth, women go topless sometimes, and as far as I know Foxie doesn't even own clothes, but I don't want to distract anyone. Besides, I love the way my morph suit feels on my body.

Of all the genius inventions in Quetzalcoatl, this one article of clothing might be my favorite. If nothing else it's the one I get the most use out of, since I wear it every day. It's a smooth, tight jumpsuit that covers my entire body except for my head and hands, custom made to fit me perfectly. Despite its jet-black, shiny appearance that almost looks plastic, it's stretchy and soft enough for me to step into the neck hole and slip it on with relative ease. I love the way it smoothly glides over my skin before it seemingly locks in place. The suit hugs my body very closely; aside from softening the shape of my bulge and nipples very little is left to the imagination. The only bulk is padding to protect and support the bottoms of my feet.

Once I'm dressed I head downstairs for breakfast. Foxie has always been insistent that good food is meant to be savored, so on mornings like this when I'm eager to get out the door he whipped up some meal-replacement shakes he would allow me to finish in a hurry. Without looking I grab one from the fridge and break its seal. I take a sip and a creamy, sweet liquid fills my mouth. I look at the bottle and it's just labeled "G", which is a flavor I haven't tried yet. I taste peach, blueberry, almond, and...is that mint? It's really good, I'll have to ask Foxie about it later. After I've finished the shake and recycled the container I look down at my morph suit.

Some days I leave it as is, I do enjoy being a shiny black latex man every so often, but a majority of the time I want something more casual.

"Morph suit," I say in my clear baritone voice. "Outfit number...14, I think."

The whole suit shimmers, its nanotechnology shifting within the fibers to bend the light and create a new appearance. Now it looks like I'm wearing skin-tight jeans, a bright white compression shirt, and red sneakers. It matches the skin on my forearms flawlessly and there is no visible line where the suit ends and my skin begins.

I grin in spite of myself. Even after a couple hundred times, I still love seeing the technology in action. Not only can the suit change its look in dozens of ways, its nanotechnology keeps me warm in the cold, cool in heat, dry, and protected from scrapes and bruises. The morph suit was a gift I got the first day I moved to Quetzalcoatl and I've never looked back since. Now ready for the day, I leave for my morning jog.

It's not like I need to watch what I eat or exercise regularly to maintain my physique, even the most decadent food in Quetzalcoatl is highly nutritious thanks to genetic modification of ingredients and my personal supplements keep my body fat low and muscle building high. This is more an act of meditation, something to get the blood flowing and feel a rush of endorphins in the morning.

It's still early, so I don't see many people during my jog, but every person I do see I greet with a smile, eye contact, and addressing them using their name. It's part of my job to be friends with everyone in Quetzalcoatl, a challenge I take on happily.

The sun has fully risen in the sky by the time I finish my jog and I lay on the soft, cool grass to rest. After a bit I'm approached by one of the town's artists, a sculptor named Rodlán.

"Hi, Eros."

"Hey, babe." I pat my chest. "Wanna chat for a bit?"

"That sounds great."

She lays on my chest and I wrap my arms around her in a snug embrace. We talk for a few minutes, mostly her telling me about a huge art piece she's been working on. The cheeky woman also puts her hand on my bulge and fondles my package, causing it to thicken as I pretend not to notice. After our conversation runs its course she gives my dick one last squeeze.

"I'd love to stay longer, but I want to get my work started for the day. I'll see you around." She leans in and kisses me, slipping her tongue in my mouth. I arch my back and shudder, showing how much I enjoy her attention.

Once Rodlán leaves I decide it's best I follow her lead. It's time to get to work.

*****

The moment I enter the building I work at I shed my morph suit and put it on a rack next to the door. My job has a strict uniform: nothing at all. Thankfully my skin suit is easy to take off, leaving me nude and ready for the day.

As expected, the only other employee, Sapphro, is already here; she takes great pride in always being the first to arrive. Sapphro is a petite blonde woman in her late twenties who has a proclivity for tank tops and short skirts, sometimes with leggings, sometimes without. She raises her eyebrows and gives me her characteristic half-smile, almost a smirk.

"This is unexpected. Normally I need to wait on you for longer."

"Yeah, I know. Today just started early."

She pats my bare ass twice before grabbing a handful and squeezing.

"That's good. We can get a lot more work done that way."

Sapphro is one of my closest friends and loves sexually harassing me on the job. It's more of a teasing game than a sign of any particular feelings though, since she prefers the company of other women. Yes, we have had sex before, but only a few times, not even enough to qualify as friends with benefits.

Everyone in Quetzalcoatl is given a name to suit their personality and role. I was blessed enough to be named Eros, which is an old word for erotic, sexual love. As such, it's my duty to provide eros to anyone in the community who wants it. As one could imagine, even with a relatively small population, I usually have my hands full.

There are committed romantic partners around here (though no families, every person in Quetzalcoatl is 18 or older), but it's an unspoken rule that everyone is encouraged to have sex with me, and everybody really takes that to heart. I have sex at least ten times most days, giving and receiving from men, women, or anyone in between. I can be dominant, submissive, whatever my partner desires. I used to think that in order to please everybody sexually, there would have to be more than one person, but that apparently isn't the case. Nobody in this community, not the straightest of men, gayest of women, nor the least sexually driven, has been able to resist fucking me at least once. I know every person in Quetzalcoatl because I've made passionate love to all of them.

We have sex bots that look and feel real, but there's an invisible kind of interpersonal connection that even advanced artificial intelligence can't quite replicate. This means I'm always in high demand, and I would never turn down an offer. Despite that, I'm still just one man, so it's impossible to be with everyone as much as they want.

To keep up with demand Sapphro organized a reservation system so that everyone gets a fair turn, and when I'm not having sex I'm creating pornographic films under her direction. We can use the sex bots as other actors, but I'm always prominently featured in every video.

In a very real way, I'm a prostitute, but I see nothing demeaning in my work. It's my job, my duty, my purpose to give everyone sexual love. I'm making people happy and in turn it makes me happy. If a person is good and kind, I can see a beauty in them I'm fiercely attracted to, and one of the prerequisites to living in Quetzalcoatl is having a good heart.

"So, boss, what's on the schedule today?" I ask, half-jokingly.

Sapphro looks at her clipboard.

"I believe we have time for fourteen sex sessions and two videos. You think you can handle it?"

"Bring it on."

She laughs and pinches the head of my cock.

"That's what I like to hear."

*****

I have a long, eventful day at work, and as always have the time of my life in the process. The supplements I take let me be more than able to keep up with the demand. Besides keeping me fit and healthy, they also drastically improve my stamina and flexibility, as well as throw my virility into overdrive. My balls and prostate are now semen-making machines, allowing for dozens of thick white ejaculations every day, all without any fear of fertilization. I'm like a breeding bull, but instead of aiming to produce as much offspring as I can, I want to make as many people happy as possible.

That's where I get the real fulfillment from my line of work. I enjoy sex as much as most other people, but more than that I love providing a personal, intimate love to everyone I come across. No two sexual partners are alike and it's my duty to cater to what each individual desires. With the amount of practice I get, I'm an expert, bringing euphoria to anyone in my bed with me.

The last appointment of the work day is emotionally taxing, as are all sessions with this particular client. Andersen is one of our writers, and loves writing for video games in particular. I know him pretty well, he's one of Foxie's closest friends and the two hang out often.

Andersen is a cute East Asian man of 23 with a well-defined twinky body. He's very boyish in both appearance and demeanor, so much so one would never guess he's transgender. Trans and genderqueer folk in Quetzalcoatl use their supplements to customize their appearance so their presentation better suits their identities. By all accounts, Andersen is a boy, just a boy with a vagina (or as he and Foxie call it, his "bonus hole"). He's good in bed, but being such a sensitive, emotional boy he gets overwhelmed during sex and weeps tears of joy in the process. Whenever this happens I tend to get swept up in his emotions and cry with him, which makes him more emotional, and it becomes a feedback loop. Sex sessions with me normally last about forty minutes, but it takes closer to an hour with Andersen because we have to spend time afterward cuddling and calming down. It's certainly a lot to take in, but when it's over I can appreciate the catharsis of it all.

When we finish up today he grinds his pussylips on my dick and gives me one more kiss.

"Thank you, Eros," he says, still a little choked up. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby boy." I kiss his forehead.

Once Andersen is on his way I go back to Sapphro so we can finish up and leave for the night. I slip my morph suit on, set it to the same outfit I had this morning, and begin walking home.

When I get to my street I'm shocked by what I see. Just down the road from my home, on a previously empty lot of land, is a temporary encampment set up in front of several workers and builder bots in the process of building a house. They weren't there yesterday; they weren't even there this morning. Things really do move fast around here.

It quickly occurs to me that there could only be one reason why a new house is being erected: someone new has come to Quetzalcoatl! Nobody else has moved here since I arrived, making me the most recent addition to our community. I've been eager for the next arrival, the more the merrier as far as I'm concerned.

I walk up to the tent curiously and see a man I've never laid eyes on before. My new neighbor!

"Hi!" I try for my most charming smile. "Welcome to Quetzalcoatl."

The new citizen returns the smile, though a more subdued version.

The higher-ups of the community made the hard choice long ago that most people would use Quetzalcoatl's technology for selfish purposes, so in order to keep the wonders safe, only a choice few are invited to live in this paradise. Status, wealth, and power are irrelevant, the only thing that matters is a sense of altruism and a love for one's fellow man. That's why I know that me and this person will be able to get along.

"My name is Eros." I hold out my hand.

He shakes my hand with his own, which feels strong and rough.

"Call me Wallace. I'm an architect."

"Oh, really? That's great." I look over his shoulder. "Wait, don't tell me you drafted up your own house already?"

Wallace shrugs. "I had an idea, and when I got a feel of the environment it didn't take long."

I whistle. This man is a genius, no less than I would expect from those chosen.

He's also handsome, though in a way different from what I'm used to. Wallace is very tall, maybe 6'5", and has deep olive tinted skin that looks Mediterranean or Middle Eastern. His hair is a dark reddish brown and his features are sharp under narrow glasses. While not weak in appearance, his muscle tone is very lean, making him look more lanky and wiry than buff. His aura is that of strength and quiet authority.

"What do you do around here, Eros? Not something involving sex, surely?"

"Sex is my purpose, Wallace. I live to please. If you ever want to do anything," I gently put my hand on his chest. "Let me know. I am but a humble public servant, eager to give back to this wonderful community."

Wallace chuckles and lightly touches my lower lip with his thumb.

"I may have to take you up on that offer. But not yet. I have a house to build."

"I'm sure your house will be as perfect as everything else in Quetzalcoatl."

Suddenly he has a look on his face I can't quite identify.

"Is something on your mind?"

"I mean, everyone I've met here has been so kind, but I still have so many questions about this place. I'm confident we're provided with all we want, but what if it comes at the cost of what we need?"

I tilt my head. "I'm sorry, I don't think I follow."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just thinking out loud."

I almost press further when I hear another architect call Wallace over for something.

"I have to go now. I'll see you around."

"Of course."

He walks off and I find myself standing still for a few seconds, feeling unsure, and unsure about what it even is I'm unsure about, at least until I snap myself out of it and head to my own house.

*****

Foxie is in the kitchen when I come home. Excitedly he takes off his apron, revealing a naked body, before scampering up and giving me a hug.

"Hey, Daddy!"

I grope and squeeze his soft little ass.

"It's great to see you, baby."

He beams that cute little smile of his, leaning into my hands.

"Wanna fuck?"

I laugh.

"You bet I do."

I pick him up and he clings to me with his arms and legs, nuzzling into me. I can feel my cock come to life almost immediately. He always knows how to get me excited.

I place Foxie down on our giant couch and undress. Once I'm bare the two of us make out, hands going everywhere.

Foxie is an interesting specimen. He's a 24 year old boy that perfectly encapsulates the "twunk" archetype, given how he looks like a hunk from the front and a twink from the back. His face has nice structure to it, with a good jawline and a pop-star smile. Lower down, pecs and abs are decently defined and his dick is 7 inches, with large nuts to match. When he faces me head on, he looks like a hot young stud, radiating masculinity.

Everything changes when he turns around.

In contrast to his chest and abs, his back has no muscle tone to speak of; it's just a long smooth back so skinny his vertebrae make little bumps down it. The ridges form a trail, pointing to his best feature: the bubble butt to end all bubble butts. It's round, perky, soft, and smooth as satin. Between his two pillowy cheeks lies the tightest, hottest little hole I've ever encountered. I could fuck him for hours and hours, and have on multiple occasions.

Today is a day I want to receive from him, though, so he takes the reins and pounds my ass with his long, thick cock. It's yet another effect of the supplements that my colon self-lubricates like when stimulated, so once my hole is wet and slick Foxie goes to town, not stopping until he's milked out two loads from me.

My partner collapses on my back with his cock still buried in my hole, panting like a tired little puppy.

"I love you so much, Daddy," he murmurs into my ear.

"I love you too, baby."

When I tell other people I'm with that I love them, I mean it, but everyone else in Quetzalcoatl I see as a friend. Foxie is the only one I think of as a lover. He knows about all the sex I have with other people and encourages it, saying that him trying to keep me all to himself is selfish. Still, no matter how many people I make wild love to, at the end of the day there will only be one Foxie.