Pact with the Devil
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/Ma, Mult, Consensual, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Mind Control, Magic, Gay, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Robot, DomSub, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Rough, Humiliation, Sadistic, Torture, Gang Bang, Group Sex, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Size, Caution, Violent, Transformation,
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapters 0–4 - "Careful what you wish for," and, "If it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is." Two clichÃ©es that couldn't be more fitting. When Martin finds out he's dying, the Devil steps in to make him an offer he couldn't refuse.
Ever have something that you've wished for greatly? Ever prayed to God (or the Devil, for that matter) for it to come true? Ever consider selling your soul to the Devil if your wish came true?
Sure, we all have. At one point in our lives or another. There was a movie back in the eighties called ''Hunk'' where a geeky nerd sold his soul to the Devil to become, well, a hunk. He got his wish all right, only he wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences.
This story chronicles several years of a dying man's life. He never (consciously) sold his soul to the Devil. He was offered a deal that was just too good to be true.
Problem is, most deals that are too good to be true usually are.
First and foremost, this is an ASFR story, so there's lots of talk about robots, androids, and other mechanical devices. There's also a fair amount of sex.
I hope you enjoy.
"I've got the results back from your tests, Martin," the doctor said, walking over to me. "You better sit down."
"What is it, Doc?" I asked, still standing.
"The cancer has spread. You've got maybe three to six months left. I'm sorry."
I stood there in his office, shocked. After all the chemo and radiation, I thought I was finally getting rid of this curse. As it turns out, it was finally getting rid of me.
"Thank you for your help," I said to him after a few minutes. "I think I have to get some things in order."
"I'll be here if you need me," he said as I walked out of his office.
As I left, I turned to walk down the street to the subway station to head home. My eyes made contact with a peddler sitting next to a building.
"Excuse me, mister," he said as I walked past. "Can you spare some change for some soup?"
I stopped and turned around to look at him. "I don't have any change, I'm sorry," I told him.
"That's ok, buddy. Thanks for at least acknowledging my existence," he replied.
I paused for a second. "I said I didn't have any change, I never said I didn't have any money."
I opened my wallet. I had about $400 in $50s and $20s. I reached in, and handed him all the money. He accepted the money, with the most solemn look of gratitude I've ever seen on a man.
"But," he said.
"No buts." I said. "Tonight you won't be sleeping on the street and you won't be going to bed hungry."
He started to break down and cry. "Thank you," he said. "There is a God."
"Trust me," I said angrily; "there is no God."
I continued on my way. A little while later, I realized that I had just given the bum all my money so I had none for myself to hail a cab or buy a subway token. I continued on down the street until I came upon a park on the other side.
I walked across the street and sat down at one of the benches, reflecting on my life and what little meaning it had.
I was an advertising executive, coming up with bold and brand new ideas to sell Viagara and new cars. I came up with new ways everyday for the masses to spend more of their money to further inflate their egos and perpetuate the capitalistic lifestyle this nation was so proud to embrace.
None of this seemed important now, though.
I just sat and watched life pass me by. A couple was taking their newborn out for a stroll.
Several men and women jogged by. Some kids were playing soccer in the field behind me. An old woman sat down beside me to feed the pigeons.
"Hello," she said.
"I saw what you did back there," she said, breaking off pieces of bread for the birds.
"The money you gave that man."
"Well, I don't have any more," I said, turning away from here.
"I don't want your money, Martin."
I was startled that she knew my name. "Who are you?" I asked.
"A friend." she said. "I also know you're dying."
"How do you know that!" I snapped at her. "No wait, never mind. Leave me alone!" I yelled, getting up to walk away.
"I can help you," she yelled towards me.
I paused and turned around to face her. "How?"
"Let's go back to your place," she said. I was nervous, and didn't know what to do; but what could I lose?
Slowly we walked back to my flat. She must be at least 80 years old since her gait was short and slightly off-balance.
About 30 minutes later, we made it to my apartment and I let her in. I set me keys down on the table next to the door. "Can I get you something to drink?" I asked.
"No, but I would like to use your bathroom," she said.
"In my bedroom at the end of the hall."
I walked into the kitchen and fixed myself a shot of bourbon. I was just finishing it off when she appeared out of my bedroom.
The old woman I escorted home was not old anymore! She was gorgeous! In fact, she looked like she was only about 20 or so. She had long, flowing, black hair; firm, supple breasts, and a perfect figure.
"Who are you?" I asked, setting my glass down. "What's going on?"
"Your guardian angel," she replied, walking over to me. "I'm here to take away your worries." I stepped back, scared. "The doctor said I had at least 3 months!"
"No, silly. Not that," she said with a smile. "I said I was your guardian angel, not the Grim Reaper."
"But how? How can you help me?" I asked.
"By giving you eternal life." she said.
"I don't believe you," I said; pouring another shot.
"Think about it, Martin! You'll never die!"
Quickly I finished my second shot and walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.
I felt weak and scared.
She followed and sat down across from me in my chair.
"No disease," she said. "You'll never get sick again."
"What do I need to do?" I asked. "What do you want in return?"
"That's the easy part," she replied. "All you need to do is, every century convince your love to join me. It's simple!"
"But how will you make me eternal?"
"By giving you what will give you everlasting life," she said. "By turning you into an android."
She snapped her fingers, and out of thin air, a figure appeared in the middle of the room. It was a male figure. a little bit taller than me, and it had a much better looking body.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"That's soon to be you," she replied. "If, you agree to the terms."
She handed me a simple contract which I read. Just as she said, the contract stated that I would receive eternal life if I offered to her my true love each and every century.
"I think I can handle this." I said. "Let me get a pen."
"I've got one," she said, handing me a strange looking pen. I looked like a syringe at the top, and had a metal quill-tip at the bottom. She unscrewed the bottom half of the pen when held a needle within, and stuck it in my arm and drew blood. She then screwed the lower half back on and handed it to me.
I signed the contract which burst into flames as I lifted the pen up finishing my signature.
"Are you ready?" she asked me.
"Not quite," I said. "I'd like to make some adjustments to this person if I'm going to be occupying its body for all of eternity."
"Understandable." she said.
I got up and faced the figure, and proceeded to remove the shirt it was wearing.
"I can take care of that for you," she said. She snapped her fingers and the figure's clothes were immediately gone. It stood naked in my living room.
"Let's start with the hair," I said. "I always wanted to be blond. With another snap of her fingers, the figure's hair became blond.
"Give it a little body, a slight waviness to it," I commanded. Again, she snapped her fingers and the hair had some body to it.
"The eyes, could you make them blue?" I asked. She snapped again, and they were.
I continued, asking her to make the cheekbones a little more pronounced, a cleft in the chin, a more defined jaw-line. At my request, she made the shoulders a little more broad and the chest a little more pronounced. She made him 6'2" tall, made his waist just a little more narrow, and gave him a little more prowess.
"Are you done, now?" she asked, impatient.
"He's too pale," I said. "Make his skin tone just a little darker, and remove the hair from his chest, and stomach, and that will be it."
"Good enough to fuck, isn't he?" I said after watching the transformation.
"Yes, he is," she said with a grin, rubbing her hands all over his body. "You've got good tastes."
With one last snap, I started to feel extremely dizzy, and felt a darkness all around me. When I opened my eyes, I was facing the wall.
"What happened to me?" I heard myself say, but it wasn't my voice.
"Welcome to your new self," I could hear the woman say behind me. As I turned to see what was going on, I could see myself laying on the floor.
"What happened to me?" I asked.
"You're dead; or rather your old self is."
I knelt down to look at the lifeless body which once held my soul.
"Enough!" the woman yelled. "I've taken too much time already. Before I go, some last minute business."
I stood up and faced her.
"First, some clothes," she said, snapping her fingers. Immediately, I was dressed in a black Armani suit.
"Next, some money," she continued, handing me a leather wallet. "There's $5000 cash in there, along with identification, platinum credit cards, and instructions on how to access a Swiss bank account, in your name, with a $25 million balance. Don't spend it all in one place."
She also handed him a cell-phone. "This is a special phone," she said. "It doesn't talk to me directly, but by you talking into it; you'll be able to change yourself. After all, you'll probably grow tired of your body after a few hundred years."
"Last but not least, you need the mark." she said. Again, she snapped her fingers, and I could feel something extremely hot pressing onto my left shoulder.
"Ow!" I yelled, quickly tearing off the jacket and shirt. I ran into the bedroom to look into the mirror where I saw the brand; six triangles, and four lines, forming an upside-down cross within a box, about 2 inches tall.
"But," I said, getting my shirt and jacket back on.
"No buts, I'll see you in a hundred years."
Just like that, she vanished in a puff of smoke.
I sat down in the chair and contemplated my position. What was I going to do now? I was dead; or rather everyone will soon think I was dead.
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my new wallet. The driver's license said, "Michael Briggs."
I was just about ready to leave before I realized there was one thing I wanted before I left. I walked back over to my now dead body, gently rolled it over, and pulled out the wallet. Inside was a picture of my mother. I took it, and placed it in my shirt pocket, and walked out the door.
"Hello Mrs. Quinones," I said to the woman standing in the hall before realizing what I had done, then quickly walked out of the building.
What was I going to do?
Then I remembered the woman telling me she had given me money, so I set out to find an apartment.
I walked for sometime and made my way into the 'Village. I never ventured down here that much. My life was filled with deadlines, meetings, and new customer prospects. Here, most were carefree and truly enjoying life.
I walked up to a street market and was glancing over the produce, contemplating what I had just agreed to when I heard a voice.
"New around here?" the young man said.
"Yeah, you could say that," I said.
"My name's Paul, what's yours?" he said, extending his hand for a shake.
"Mar... uh, Michael. Michael Briggs."
"Well, Michael Briggs, do you have a place to stay?"
"Well, actually I don't," I answered.
"Then it's settled," he said jubilantly.
"You'll be staying with me!" he exclaimed with a huge grin on his face. "Come on," he said, taking the fruit out of my hand and setting it down as he guided me away from the stand.
We walked about two blocks to his apartment building which appeared to be an old warehouse.
I followed him into the freight elevator as he moved the lever forward lifting us up to the second level. Paul then lifted the gates which swung up revealing a huge studio apartment.
"Can I offer you something to drink?" he asked.
"No thanks, I'm not thirsty."
As he walked into his kitchen, I made my way to the center of the flat and looked around.
Scattered throughout, there were canvases and easels. Some of the paintings were unfinished, but for the most part there were stacks and stacks of portraits, drawings, and still-lifes. As I examined the paintings more thoroughly, a common theme began to emerge. Each painting had a familiar character; a central point of focus, and that character looked remarkably like my new self!
"Interesting subject," I said out loud. "Who is he?"
He walked over to me, drink still in hand. "I think it's you," he said.
I quickly turned to look at him. How could this be me?
We walked over to the futon in his 'living room' and sat down. Paul explained that about two years ago, he got a strange dream. The main subject of his dream looked exactly like me. Several weeks passed as he tried to get the image of me out of his thoughts and dreams when he succumbed to his own subconscious and started painting the scenes from his dreams.
"So you see, when I saw you at the fruit-stand," he said quietly, "somehow I knew all this would make sense; if not now, then eventually."
"Look, Paul," I said trying to sound comforting. "I don't think this is such a good idea."
"Please," he said genuinely. "I'll let you live here, rent free. Just let me paint you."
I thought about this for what probably seemed an eternity when I realized that I had an eternity myself.
"Okay," I said reluctantly.
"Excellent!" he said, coming over to give me a hug. "I've been looking for you for the past two years!"
"When do we begin?" I asked, squirming to get away from his hug.
"Now, if it's okay with you." he said.
I stood up, and raised my hands to shrug. "Sure, why not."
"Come over," Paul said, walking over to a window. There was a stool, and canvas set on an easel. "Would you mind taking off your clothes?"
"God, you know, I don't know," I said. I was feeling a little apprehensive.
"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he said. "You've only been filling my dreams for the past two years.
Reluctantly I took my clothes off and stood there naked in front of him.
"Remarkable," he said gazing at my naked self. "You're even more beautiful in person." Next, he positioned me on the stool, my feet apart, set on the rungs below, and sat behind the canvas.
I stayed like this for hours, but I wasn't growing tired. Through the night, Paul just painted.
Stroke after stroke, his brush met the canvas with fury.
Several hours later, I found my mind wandering, remembering my past; my life, my relationships, my loves, my family.
I tried remembering as far back as I could. Images of me as a baby filled my head. My parents, holding me, loving me.
I tried to remember back further when I felt extremely scared. Darkness surrounded me. Pain, and pressure. All of a sudden bright lights, strange noises. Screaming. I had remembered my birth.
I tried to remember back even farther. Bliss. Calm. Serenity. I was remembering my tiny, still undeveloped fetus still growing in my mother's womb.
Dawn broke above the city, and it's morning rays cast through the windows behind me.
"My god, I didn't realize the time," Paul said from behind the canvas. "Are you tired? Would you like something?"
"No, I'm fine," I said.
"Well, I think it's done," he said. "Would you like to take a look?"
I walked over to the canvas and gazed upon the image. "It's beautiful," I said as I looked at myself.
"No, you're beautiful."
Paul left the room to take a shower; I got dressed and walked over to the living room and flipped on the TV.
The morning news was on and the lead story was about me, or rather my old self.
"Metropolitan prominent advertising executive, Martin Phillips was found dead in his apartment this morning." the anchorwoman said. "Martin is best known for his work on the Atlantis Condom campaign which successfully bridged the public policy against sex-education in
I flipped the channel to watch something else.Some time later Paul emerged from the shower naked, his hair still dripping.
Paul was a very handsome man, with a swimmer's build, and overall very proportioned. He walked into his kitchen, still naked, and toasted a bagel.
"Are you sure I can't fix you anything," he asked.
"I really am fine, thank you," I said.
He finished spreading some cream cheese on his bagel and came into the living room with me.
"I'd like to do another nude if you don't mind," he asked.
"Uh, sure," I said.
We chatted for a few minutes as he finished off his bagel then he got up and motioned for me to follow him. I stood next to the bare easel as he got a two-foot high pedestal.
"Please, get on," he said. I disrobed, again, and stepped up onto the pedestal.
I could feel him breathing on me as he gently positioned me. His warm breath on my skin was beginning to turn me on. Carefully, he moved my arms and bended my knee into a stance he thought was right. He didn't say anything at the growing erection forming between my legs, either.
Just as before, he sat back behind his canvas, peeking out from behind every few seconds or so.
A couple of hours later, he got up.
"Well, it's done," he said; "and you've got some mighty libido there, mister."
I hadn't noticed as my mind wandered again, thinking about how I was going to be spending the rest of eternity, but I had kept my erection throughout the entire painting marathon.
"It doesn't seem to want to go down," I said with a nervous chuckle.
I walked behind the canvass to see just about the whole area filled with a painting of my erect cock and balls.
"I couldn't resist," he said. "It's like your cock was calling out to me."
Seeing my cock transformed into an image of oil and pigment made me even more horny than I already was.
"Here, let me take care of that for you," Paul whispered in my ear.
I had never had sex with a man before. In fact, these lustful feelings I have been experiencing for Paul were all new to me.
Paul took me by my hand and gently led me to his bed where I layed down on my back. He gently pulled my legs toward him so that they were dangling off the edge. Next, he knelt down in front of me and started.
With great passion he brought me to an immense climax soon thereafter. I hadn't experienced an orgasm as strong as that which he brought upon me. While in a state of orgasmic bliss, I wondered if it was because of the forbidden way which I climaxed, my new body, or both.
He finished licking and devouring the remnants of my juices when he climbed on the bed to lay next to me.
"Now it's your turn," he told me with a grin on his face.
"But," I said hesitantly. "I've never..."
"Use your instinct," he said with a whisper.
I began to reciprocate what Paul had done to me just moments ago. As his cock entered my mouth, I felt a wave of forbidden passion flow through my entire body.
Paul was right; it was instinctful. Lost, primal urges. It seemed natural. Then again, sex was natural.
I soon brought him to orgasm and he spewed his juices in my mouth. They tasted nothing like I expected. The scariest thought to me was that I think I could get used to this.
He went into the bathroom to get clean. When he emerged, I followed suit, grabbing a clean washcloth from the linen pantry behind the door. As I stepped out after washing myself, Paul was talking to a woman in the living room.
"It's true!" she exclaimed when she saw me. "I didn't believe you existed."
"Michael, I'd like you to meet Jenna. Jenna's my sister."
"Uh, excuse me," I said quite embarrassed as I ran into the bathroom to put on a towel. As I emerged, she and Paul were staring at his latest work; the rather large painting of my cock and balls.
"You've got to show this," she told him. "You've got to show these all."
"I don't know," Paul said. "I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."
"Show what?" I interrupted.
"Well, you," she said smiling. "Or rather, the paintings of you."
"Oh," I said softly.
"Would you mind?" Paul asked.
"Well, do you think they're appropriate for the public?" I asked.
"It's art," Jenna said exuberantly. "And in the flesh or in oil, you are a work of art."
"Well, ok," I said reluctantly.
Jenna had successfully persuaded both he and Paul to show the paintings. Acting as Paul's agent, Jenna arranged a showing for that weekend at the Metropolitan Underground Art Gallery.
Paul and Michael stayed busy for the weeks prior to the showing; each-other contributing their part to the vast array of artwork produced.
Paul had acquired a new-found vigor in his paintings, choosing to paint Michael in a variety of styles and positions. All the paintings had one single theme however, they all pictured Michael as the central character; and they all pictured him nude.
That Friday, a truck from the gallery came to pick up Paul's work. Paul supervised the workers loading the paintings onto the truck and he and Michael followed it to the location.
Jenna was standing on the back loading dock smoking a cigarette with the gallery's owner, Patrick Haas.
Michael followed Paul out of his car and walked over.
"This must be Michael," said Patrick, reaching out to shake Michael's hand. "Come, come inside for a cappucino."
They all made their way inside to the main gallery where preparations were taking place for the next day's showing.
They all sat at the bar with Patrick tending to the offerings as workers brought the 50 or so paintings inside.
"My Lord," Patrick said as he caught a glimpse of one of the nudes. He set down his coffee and walked over the painting leaning up against the wall. "Exquisite," he exclaimed, holding it up to the light.
The nude he was admiring so much was the one of Michael, standing like Michaelangelo's David, fully erect.
"Come," he said, clapping his hands together after setting the painting down. "We must get ready for tomorrow's show!"
He, Paul, and Jenna, worked feverously into the night hanging the paintings and setting the lights. Dawn broke and they were all passed out on the floor, or against the wall, exhausted. Michael had decided to go to the donut shop across the street to grab everyone some donuts, bagels, and coffee. When he walked back into the gallery, the noise of the door chime woke everybody up.
"Ah, glad to see you're awake," he said sarcastically. "Breakfast is here."
He set everything out on the bar and leaned back against the wall while everyone ate.
"Michael," Paul said. "Have something to eat."
"I'm not hungry, thank you." he replied.
"You're very curious," he said, setting his donut down. "In the three weeks you've been staying with me, I've yet to notice you eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom other than to shower."
"You've got some peculiar habits of your own," he replied, trying to draw the conversation subject away from him.
"Yes, Paul," Jenna interjected. "Leave him alone."
"Mr. Briggs, will you be joining us this evening?" Patrick asked.
"You'll have to," Paul said. "You're the star of the show."
"I guess I don't have much of a choice then, do I?" he asked.
With great exuberance, the group responded in unison, "No!"
Michael stepped away and took one last look at the paintings throughout the gallery. After examining all the pieces, he walked back to the group and told them he was going to back to Paul's apartment to rest.
"I'll drive you," Jenna said jumping up.
"It's okay, really," he replied.
"I insist," she said with a grin on her face clutching her arm around his as she escorted him to the back of the gallery.
"He's quite a catch," Patrick said to Paul, as Jenna and Michael left the room. "Does his cock really look like what you've portrayed in your paintings?"
"Even better in person," Paul giggled as he responded. "He's quite unusual, though."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I was serious when I brought up the fact that I've never noticed him eat or sleep," he said. "And about two weeks ago, I forced myself to stay up for two straight days working on the largest piece and not once did he get up to go to the bathroom. I never saw him need anything to drink, either."
"That is strange," said Patrick, agreeing with him.
Later, while Jenna was driving them back to Paul's apartment, she was trying to get to know Michael a little better.
"Where are you from, Michael?" she asked.
"I'm originally from Arizona, but I recently moved here about a month ago." he said.
"Is that when you met Paul?"
"Yes," he replied. "He's very nice."
They made their way back to Paul's apartment. Jenna followed him upstairs. When he lifted the gates to the elevator he was struck with how barren Paul's apartment now looked without any paintings or canvases laying about.
"Thanks for the ride, I think I'm going to lay down for a few," he told her.
"Ok, I'm just going to use the phone," she said.
Michael walked over to the bed, layed down, and closed his eyes. He wasn't tired; in fact he no longer needed sleep of any kind, but he wanted to be alone and figured this was the best way to make it happen.
Across the room he heard Jenna hang up the phone. He was expecting to hear the doors to the elevator open signaling her leave when he felt someone get on the bed next to him.
"Jenna?" he said, opening his eyes.
"I heard you don't need any sleep," she replied with an evil grin.
"Uh," he replied nervously. "I do, and I'm tired."
She positioned herself so she was on top of his legs restricting his movements.
"Are you sure?" she asked sarcastically, running her fingers up his legs to his crotch.
The touch of her hands on his flesh and through the fabric of his shorts was starting to really turn him on.
Beneath his shorts, his cock was starting to grow, yearning to be freed from its confines.
"Uh..." he said again.
Jenna then proceeded to unbutton and unzip Michael's fly. His cock sprang up at attention, trying to force its way through the remaining barrier, his boxers.
"My, you're a mysterious man, Michael Briggs." she said with another giggle.
Michael laid on his back, his hands at rest by his hips, as Jenna proceeded to remove his shorts and boxers. His cock was now pushing firmly against his abdomen; its head resting up just past his navel.
She didn't say anything as she grasped his uncut cock in her hands and gently slid it inside her.
She then let out screams of ecstasy and excitement as she took him for a ride; his essence brought upon wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure with each thrust. This left her spent and exhausted as she collapsed on top of him, wrapping her arms around his chest.
"Fucking unbelievable," she whispered to him. "Thank you."
After she got dressed and left, Michael went into the bathroom to take a shower.
After finishing with his shower, he relegated himself into the living room to read a book. "War and Peace," he said outloud. "Guess I have an eternity to read this now."
Sometime later, Paul came home; without saying a word he walked over to the bed and collapsed out of pure exhaustion.
Michael had finished about half of the book when Paul woke up about 7 hours later, took a shower, and got ready for the evening.
The two headed for the gallery around 5pm. Paul was dressed in a white pirate short with black leather jeans while Michael decided to wear jeans and a t-shirt.
When they arrived at the gallery, Jenna, Patrick, and the caterers were already there getting ready for the evening's festivities.
The first guests arrived about an hour later and Michael excused himself to the back office where he proceeded to get undressed and put on a long robe. Patrick had convinced him to wear only the robe when they arrived earlier. The plan was to be that Michael would come out during the apex of the showing, disrobe so everyone could see what he looked like in person, and circulate through the gallery naked for the rest of the evening. He agreed to this because Patrick convinced him it would help sell the paintings.
He could see through the security cameras in the back office that things looked like they were going pretty well. About 100 people showed up for the first night, which was by invitation only.
Many of the elite were here admiring Paul's work.
He was reading an issue of Smithsonian in his robe when Patrick came into the back office to check on him.
"How are you doing," Patrick asked.
"Very good. Things look like they're going well out there." he said.
"Are you ready for your debut?"
"As I'll ever be, I guess."
Patrick winked at him as he turned around to walk back out.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please." he said to the crowd, which hushed rather quickly and turned to face him. "I'd like to introduce you to the subject of all these works, a masterpiece of art both on canvas and in person; please allow me this great honor of introducing to you Michael Briggs!"
Michael walked out from the back office in his robe and stepped up to the platform which was built earlier that day. He then turned around so his back was facing the crowd, and let the robe fall to his feet.
"What an ass," a patron whispered to his partner as his fell upon the naked man.
As he turned around to face his audience, a roar of cheers and applause reverberated throughout the gallery.
"What I wouldn't give to spend an evening with him," a woman whispered under her breath.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Michael Briggs," Patrick said; as more clapping followed.
Michael got off the stage and began circulating through the crowd, introducing himself and meeting everyone in attendance.
Sales of Paul's paintings were happening at a frenzied pace! The 36" x 48" painting of Michael's erect cock, and balls, was turning into a semi-auction between three potential buyers.
"$15,000," one man said.
"$17,000," said a woman.
"$25,000," said another man.
Michael walked over to see what the commotion was about.
"Isn't it great, Michael," Paul said, clutching his arm.
"Wonderful," he replied. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen... madam, I've got some more mingling to do."
He left to circulate back through the crowd when he was stopped by a rather tall man with a goatee.
"Hello, Michael," the man said. "My name is Augustus Ramsey; have you ever been interested in making movies?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Michael replied.
The two chatted for a while where he learned that Augustus was a porno director. Augustus wanted to make Michael the next John Holmes.
"Sounds interesting," Michael said to him. The fact was, just talking about the possibility was getting him visibly turned on and before he knew it, he was standing in front of Augustus, holding his cappucino, with a raging hard-on.
"Come with me, back to L.A." he insisted.
He agreed, and the two men walked out the door.
"You look troubled," Augustus said to Michael as they were flying west to L.A.
"I'm worried about Paul," he said.
"Don't be!" Augustus exclaimed. "Your 'showing' netted Paul roughly $10 million for all the paintings he sold. He's set for life."
"Really?" Michael said.
"You're very popular."
They arrived in Los Angeles several hours later. Augustus drove Michael to an apartment complex on Melrose Place and showed him where he'd be staying.
It was a bungalow-style apartment. There were 12 apartments, each opening up to a central pool. The front was gated, and it seemed pretty secure.
"Welcome to 1969 Melrose Place," he said, escorting Michael into his apartment.
"It's gorgeous!" Michael said, turning to look around. "Do you own all this?"
"Yes," he said. "This is where all my stars live. It also dubs as a convenient set."
"How many people live here," he asked.
"You're number 12. We've got 7 girls, and you make the 5th guy."
Michael walked through the apartment, checking things out. His was furnished quite contemporary; with a black leather couch, lots of black mica with chrome trim furniture.
"I noticed there's no locks on the door," he said to Augustus.
Augustus brought Michael's bag into his bedroom.
"Yes, it's designed that way. There's adequate security with the front gate."
He also couldn't help but notice there were remote controlled video cameras all throughout the compound, and inside the apartment.
"What's with all the cameras?"
"Like I said," Augustus replied, "this doubles as a set, too. The surveillance cameras are primarily for your safety, but they're also broadcasted live on our website."
"So people can see everything that goes on in here?"
"Absolutely, and people are watching as we speak. Although, they can't hear us."
"Cool," he said.
"Well, I'll leave you to get situated." Augustus said. "I'll see you at 10am on Monday for your first shoot."
"Bye," he replied; as he closed the door behind him leaving Michael's new apartment.
Michael went into the bedroom and started to unpack his clothes and put them away.
Several minutes later, he heard the front door open and light footsteps coming towards him.
When he turned around to accost the stranger who had just entered, his eyes fell upon a rather voluptuous redhead, standing naked in his doorway.
"You won't be needing a lot of those," she said.
"Excuse me?" he replied.
"Clothes. You won't be needing a lot of clothes." she replied, walking into the room. "I'm Trixie, by the way."
Michael set one of his sports coats down on his bed and turned to face her.
"We've heard an awful lot about you," she said; running her fingers down his chest.
"Nice to meet you."
"I'm your welcome wagon." she continued, running her fingers through his hair.
Without warning, Trixie leaned forward and took Michael's head in her hands. Forcing her tongue into his mouth, her hands traversed down the android's body, gently undoing the clasp of his jeans.
Michael wasn't wearing any underwear, which was just fine for Trixie as she nudged her way into his pants. Her small hands grasped the artificial member yearning to escape its confines.
Slowly it grew, responding to the sights and smells of her which were filling Michael's senses. She knelt down in front of him, slowly pulling his pants down, releasing his shaft from its denim jail.
Trixie caught a glimpse of Michael's 11 inches for the first time. "Mmm," she cried out. "Lovely!"
Without wasting any time, Trixie went down on him, taking in his entire organ; slowly at first, but eventually succeeding.
Michael was eventually brought to orgasm; and with several powerful actions, thrust his juices — made with artificial and natural flavors — inside her mouth, the contents spilling from her lips very slightly.
"Delicious," she said, ingesting the last of it.
"You're going to be a star."
Trixie was one of Augustus' starlets who found her hooking the streets when she was just 17.
He gave her a place to stay, got her boobs fixed, and gave her a job. That was 8 years ago, and now Trixie is one of Augustus' most popular featurettes in his films.
Orgasm Entertainments is one of Hollywood's most successful adult media production and distribution companies and caters to all lifestyles.
Trixie spent the night at Michael's apartment that evening, but the two didn't get much sleep.
For hours, the two's trysts went on endlessly. One after another, throughout the night he brought her to orgasm as they tried just about every position in the Kama Sutra. When dawn broke, she was exhausted, asleep on his chest.
She must have been having an intense dream; as he looked down upon her, he could see her masturbating herself under the sheets.
She awoke several minutes later to find herself still resting on his chest. She didn't say anything, or open her eyes as she let her hands wander over to his thighs. Michael thought she was still asleep and didn't say anything for fear of waking her.
Slowly she caressed his leg and thighs, moving her fingers farther up towards his waist with each stroke. When she reached his shaft and balls, she was pleasantly surprised to find him again, hard as a rock, and ready for more action.
She grabbed the top of his shaft with her right hand and slowly begin to jerk him off. Not wanting to stain the sheets with another eruption, and thinking she was still dreaming, He let her do this for as long as she wanted.
Twenty minutes had passed, and Trixie was beginning to get frustrated. Faster and faster she stroked him, hoping to find a warm eruption would soon follow. When it didn't, she altered her rhythms and played more with the head of his cock.
"Aren't you going to cum," she said, quite disappointed.
"You're awake!" he cried out.
"I have been," she exclaimed, sitting up to look at him. "I've been trying to jerk you off for the past 20 minutes or so."
"I, I thought you were still asleep. Dreaming."
He reached down and kissed her on her forehead. "But if you want me to cum, I can do it right now," he said afterwards; and without warning spewed his juices all over her.
"Oh my God," she cried out, fingering up the juices which had fallen on her and him. "You've got some amazing control!"
He went into the bathroom to take a shower.
Trixie followed soon after and joined him.
The two faced each-other, letting the jets of water flow into every nook and cranny of their bodies. Michael picked up the bar of soap and ran it all across Trixie's neck, breasts, and stomach.
He paid careful attention to her breasts, kneading them gently in his hands. Massaging them. Caressing them.
When he finished washing the front of her, she took the soap from him and began washing him.
Slowly she ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the sharp ridges of his seemingly defined pecs. Further down she went, gently caressing the nodules of his abdominals. She continued further, cupping his balls in her hand while she washed them and his shaft. She couldn't resist milking his long, soft shaft as she gently pulled back it skin to pay special attention to his head.
All this was getting Michael excited again, and slowly his member was getting long and firm right beneath her fingers. She wasn't about to let him get off just yet; before she had a chance to wipe his ass.
Next, she rolled the soap in her palm creating a thick lather as she reached under him with her soapy fingers, paying careful attention to his anus. Gently she inserted two of her slippery fingers into his anus, getting them clean.
This startled him since he's never had anyone play with his anus like this before. Without warning, he couldn't resist coming at that very moment as he spewed himself right into her face.
"Oh my God," he said apologetically. "I'm so sorry!"
Laughing, Trixie stood back up, wiping the artificial semen from her eyes. "Guess we know what turns you on, you kinky pervert." she said as she moved her face under the water to wash her face off.
They both left the shower as soon as she had cleaned her face.
Michael walked into his bedroom to put some clothes on after drying off when he noticed Trixie leaving.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his towel still around his waist.
"I'm going to go lay out by the pool," she said. "Wanna join me?"
"But you have no clothes on."
"Honey, at Melrose Place clothing is practically prohibited."
He followed her outside to the pool where Jeff, Kyle, Alex, Roxy, and Christy were already catching some rays.
"Hey guys," said Trixie. "I'd like you to meet Matthew."
"Michael," he said.
"Michael? I thought it was Matthew." she said.Jeff and Christy chuckled at the societal faux pas Trixie had made, and the trench she was digging deeper and deeper.
"Anyway," she said; "He's Augustus' new prodigy. And a great fuck, I might add."
"Well pull up a seat, darling," Roxy said. "Take your towel off and enjoy the rays."
He dragged a chaise closer to them and took off his towel to lay down on the lounge.
"Whoa there, honey," Roxy said when she caught a glimpse of his member.
"Good God," said Alex noticing his prowess as well. "I've died and gone to Heaven."
"Turn around for us," Christy said. "Let's get a good look at you."
Michael smiled and posed for the five sunbathing out by the pool.
"That thing is not going to fit inside of me," exclaimed Roxy.
"It's not that bad," Trixie said. "He's actually very gentle!" she finished, giggling. "Plus, he comes on command," she added.
He laid down on the lounge chair at this point and was watched a flock of birds fly through the sky.
"Are you a top or a bottom," asked Kyle.
"Do you like to fuck or be fucked," Trixie interpreted.
He thought about his answer for a moment. "I like sex, period," he said.
"Well, how 'bout us sampling the goods before we all go into work on Monday?" suggested Alex, walking over to him with a wry smile on his face.
"Sounds good to me!" said Michael as he reached up and gently grabbed his balls.
Alex's grin never left him as he climbed up onto the lounge and thrust his throbbing cock into Michael's mouth. Not wanting to miss out on any of the action, Kyle walked up behind them and stuck his cock into Alex's.
"Why should the boys have all the fun?" quipped Roxy as she climbed onto the lounge, sticking Michael's now fully engorged cock in her pussy. "Oooh!" she cried out as it filled her up inside.
Meanwhile, upstairs; next to Michael, was Brad's apartment. He had the reputation of the biggest cock in the industry. A full 13 inches uncut, and about 6 inches around at the base.
He was actually bred this way. His great, great, great, grandfather was a legend back in the late 18th century in Tennessee. Everyone back then used to call him "Horse". His mother back at the time told him that if he ever wanted to keep "it"; that he best marry only "women from good stock".
This began Brad's ancestor's quest to only find women who's father's and brother's were also of "good stock."
Brad's great-grandfather (x3) found such a girl in Georgia, married her, and had 4 young studs who were also of "good stock".
An edict was passed down in the family that the children were to only do the same. Generations later, Brad was born, and the men in his family now rank as the family with the largest cocks in America.
For those who are wondering, Brad still abides by his family's ancient edict and is continuously searching for women who have fathers and brothers with "good stock" themselves.
He's already fathered 8 children, and all show promises.
"What's all the commotion?" he said, sleeping stepping out onto the walkway yelling down.
From above, he could see the lustful writhing taking place downstairs.
"Mmmm," he thought outloud. "Fresh meat!" as he walked downstairs.
The troupe was too engaged in what they were doing to notice him. Roxy was busy bouncing up and down on Michael's shaft having one orgasm after another with each few thrusts.
Slowly Brad kneeled down in front of Michael's shaven ass and gently pushed his hips up and back revealing the virgin hole. This startled Roxy as she opened her eyes to gaze into Brad. She reached over and put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her to kiss him, as he thrust his enormous member up Michael's ass.
As Brad's cock entered Michael, it sent a wave of sexual energy through him which all the other's felt. Unable to contain himself, Michael came with such force and vigor inside Roxy that she actually felt his cum, deep inside her.
Alex couldn't hold back any further as he spewed his jism down his throat.
Kyle was soon to follow, shooting his into Alex.
While just joining the party, Brad wasn't about to cum yet as he pushed his cock deeper into Michael with each thrust. Again and again, Michael shot his load deep into Roxy. So much in fact that it was beginning to spill out of her, back onto his cock.
"Hey Rox," Trixie yelled, noticing the mess that was starting.
"Unh... what... what... ungh..."
"I think you better get off."
"Ungh... Why?" she said stopping.
"Take a look," Trixie said, pointing to her crotch.
Roxy looked down and noticed the white, sticky goo which was flowing steadily out of her, and down Michael's cock. She quickly got up, and even more glop fell out.
"Christ! I've never seen anybody cum so much."
Alex and Kyle had already left Michael and were each taking laps in the pool. With one final thrust, Brad jammed his cock deep inside Michael, spewing his juices deep inside him. Not to be outdone, with a wave or orgasmic delight, Michael shot his load one last time with it flying well over his head.
"That was great," Michael said.
Not amused at the mess Roxy was literally in, she balked back "Yeah, well I still have cum dripping out of me! How much did you fucking cum?"
"I dunno, pretty much every time this guy thrusted his cock into me."
"Fuck," she said, scooping up the dripping cum from her crotch with her hands. "I need to take a shower."
Meanwhile, back at Augustus' office, he and his partner were keeping abreast of the fun times which had just taken place at the pool.
"Gus, did you see that?" Lenny said walking into Augustus' office.
"Yeah, fucking unbelievable!"
Lenny Smitz was Augustus' business partner, camera man, editor, and office queen.
"The guy's got the combined prostate of Jeff Stryker, John Holmes, and Peter North," he replied. "Wonder what drugs or herbs he takes?"
"I dunno," said Gus, "but we're gonna make a killing off of him!"
Back at the pool, Roxy had gone upstairs to shower. All the screaming and moaning which had taken place at the pool woke Amber and Linda, the only lesbian couple that lived at Melrose Place.
"What the fuck's going on down here?" yelled Linda.
"Oh God," she thought to herself gazing down at Michael's still semi-hard dick. "More cock."
"Hi," Michael said to her.
As if she could get any more pissed off, Linda stormed off back into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.
"Was it something I said?"
"She's a vegetarian," said Christy.
Michael just looked at her perplexed.
"A lesbian!" said Jeff.
"Oh, well on that note I think I'm going to go upstairs and take a nap." he said.
"Have fun, studboy," cried out Trixie as he walked away.
He walked back upstairs and proceeded to take a shower. Downstairs, however, he was still the talk of the pool.
"Have you ever seen a guy cum so much," asked Christy.
"It's not natural," said Brad. "He's going to put us all out of business."
"Now, now," said Trixie. "Unless Gus plans on shooting nothing but jerk-off videos, he'll still need a partner."
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