Chapter 10

“Does that take care of your plumbing problems Ma’am?” said Cockzilla, milking the last few drops out of his shaft onto Laycee’s mouth. The dog had performed rather well, and while she was older than his other co-stars were, he felt a connection to the demanding bitch. She hated her job because she felt entitled to better things, and she felt no guilt about treating her underling, a semi-attractive gopher girl named RG, like shit.

“Mmm it certainly does,” said Laycee, licking her lips. Her wavy blond hair was teased and dyed, and her lips had obviously been given injections to make them plump. She wore an excess of makeup. Her breasts were real enough, but smaller than those of the other girls. Overall she fit the bill of the stereotypical plastic female, the sort who could only find a career in porn. Had he not felt a connection to her abrasive personality, he’d point out that fucking her felt like fucking a doll.

The director yelled cut and the crew immediately began packing up, the entire lot satisfied with the shoot for now. Laycee had shown up an hour late and was constantly taking breaks during the shoot, forcing things to go on well past five. Even Cockzilla was glad to see things end, Laycee was enough of a diva to keep even him waiting. He could be fucking Henna or Nekkie right now instead of Laycee, but they’d both gone home at five.

Still, being on set with her had taught him a great deal. She was a bitch and a diva, and what she said went without question. The staff cowered before her, especially RG, and it was up to him and the other male leads to stand up to her bitchiness. Even then, she got her way one way or another, and Cockzilla was able to feed off her success. She smoked on set, and so did he, she wanted to have martinis with lunch, so he was free to have a few beers. Watching her so deftly control and browbeat everyone answered questions Cockzilla had never even thought to ask, and already he could imagine himself doing as much once he was in charge. He’d have to keep Laycee around, and ask her for advice, even if he had no interest in adding her to his harem. She obviously knew the company politics better than anyone else, and had a knack for pushing it just as far as she could actually get away with.

Cockzilla had expected to get a chance to talk with Laycee after the shoot, but somehow she managed to slip past him, disappearing with R.G. in tow when he had his back turned. The crew was pissed at having to stay late and was already packing things up, or just leaving them for tomorrow. Cockzilla was effectively alone. He picked up his cigar from the ashtray where he’d left it and took a long puff, grinning. Now was the perfect time to make trouble.

The building was quickly becoming deserted, with employees locking rooms as they went. Cockzilla lamented the loss of an opportunity to steal things and drag them down to the pawnshop, but he had an infinite line of credit from Henna anyway. Besides, he was likely to get caught if he did it now, and he wasn’t sure exactly how much Henna could bail him out of.

As Cockzilla continued wandering the halls, he noticed that one of the changing rooms was ajar. It was Laycee’s, the only private changing room in the entire building. Everyone else was expected to share, either by changing communally or by having changing rooms change owners depending on who was coming into work that day. Only Laycee had one to herself. Cockzilla had always wondered why, and had a feeling there was more to it than just her tendency to be a diva.

Cockzilla knocked on the door and then opened it without waiting for a reply. The dressing room was small and standard; it had obviously once been a utility closet, with shelves for cleaning solutions still standing along the walls. The far end had been converted into a makeup bureau, the top of which was coated in makeup of all kinds. To the left was a large couch, with Laycee spread out across it. Some of her makeup had been removed and her hair was in curlers, making her look particularly old. She was dressed in her bathrobe, but had failed to tie it securely and her tits were falling out. Across from the couch was a small coffee table, with a large plastic bag in the middle. Inside were assorted drugs which, even from half a room away, Cockzilla could tell were Mexican contraband. He grinned. Now he had blackmail on Laycee without even trying.

“Excuse me, do you belong here?” came a voice from behind the door. Cockzilla closed it to see a glowering RG, who was frantically filling out paperwork. It looked official, at least in that it had the California state seal in the upper right hand corner. Cockzilla grinned, leaning forward a bit. He was dressed only in a bathrobe as well, and as he braced his hand on the wall above R.G. his shaft slid out a little bit. But the gopher didn’t break eye contact, continuing to carefully read and fill out the papers she had on her clipboard.

“Just checking up on my co-stars,” said Cockzilla. “I do so care about the health of my co-workers.” Cockzilla blew a big puff of smoke down onto RG’s face, emphasizing his sarcasm. But the gopher was unmoved, and appeared totally uninterested in the massive shaft dangling in front of her. She wasn’t even staring at it. “But seeing as she’s asleep, maybe we can have a little chat?” He leaned forward a bit, almost bumping her nose with his enormous shaft. She looked at it like it was a pile of used tissues.

“Look, I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t swing that way,” said RG. Cockzilla paused for a moment, something that R.G. took to mean he didn’t understand. “I’m a fucking lesbian, all right? Now get out of here, Laycee needs her beauty sleep, and I need to finish these papers before she goes into traffic court tomorrow.” Cockzilla thought a bit, then grinned, bringing his hand down to RG’s shoulder.

“Traffic court huh? For driving under the influence?” Cockzilla’s words made RG’s back stiffen. He took another long drag on his cigar, knowing he’d struck a nerve. “Yeah, I can read shit that’s upside down… You have very pretty handwriting. ” He took another long drag on his cigar, blowing the smoke in RG’s face. She was frozen still, not daring to look up at him, but not daring to move either. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the bag marked ‘Pharmacia’ over there would it? That’s some serious shit in this country, smuggling drugs over the border and taking ‘em without a proscription.” It was a hunch, of course, Cockzilla was only going by what he’d seen in the movies. But it seemed to have the desired effect.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but you shouldn’t be here.” R.G. made eye contact as she spoke. She was trying to talk tough, but Cockzilla could see the fear in her eyes. He had her. “So get the fuck out before I call the fucking night watch. I’m sure you’d really enjoy going down to the police station with your green card and your no pants.”

“Fuck you,” said Cockzilla. He squeezed his hand down on RG’s shoulder, making her wince. “You’re fucking bluffing and I can fucking tell. Just give in and play nice and nobody needs to know.”

“Look, if you need money-“

“I’ve got money,” said Cockzilla. “You know what I want. So are you going to give it to me, or do I have to take it from you?” Cockzilla took another long draft on his cigar. The thing was burned almost to the stump now, and he could feel its heat against his thin lips. R.G. hesitated for a moment, staring at Laycee, then sighed and slowly leaned forward, grabbing Cockzilla’s enormous shaft with her hands. He smirked. “I knew ‘lesbian’ just meant you hadn’t found a dick worth loving yet…”

R.G. gave him his most hateful stare before slowly working his length into her mouth. He knew that she was doing this for Laycee, out of either love or some sort of misguided decision to save her immediate employer. Either way, Cockzilla was getting what he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

R.G. began sucking lightly at first, more humoring Cockzilla than actually pleasuring him. He grabbed her head firmly, pressing down and hissing. “Do it right or I’ll make you do it again!” He was a bit shy about raising his voice at first, but as Laycee was passed out cold, he gained confidence. He began to push into her muzzle, gripping her head in both hands as he began to fuck her more and more.

R.G. gagged at first, then began to cry as he forced himself into her mouth over and over again. She hated this, and it didn’t even feel all that great, but the sense of power and control he had over the pathetic little gopher filled Cockzilla with a sense of satisfaction. R.G. was submissive to a fault; even now she was giving in more and more to Cockzilla’s demands as he forced himself upon her. Quickly he shifted his thrusts rougher and rougher, jamming his length into R.G. insistently. She let out muffled squeaks, but no resistance, her body limp and giving as a ragdoll.

Cockzilla took one last tug on the base of his cigar before tossing it onto the tile floor, where it erupted in a brief moment of sparks and cinders before slowly fading out. He grabbed R.G. and roughly tossed her to the floor, making her gasp and cry out as she hit it with a thud. She was trembling now, afraid of him. He lost no time in getting rid of her pants, in lifting up her shirt and exposing her breasts. He caressed her roughly, slipping down between her legs to lick and lap with his long, forked tongue. She hated him, but he was pleasuring her whether she wanted to admit as much or not. He worked her clit hard, making her writhe even as she averted her eyes and writhed within his grasp.

Cockzilla plowed ahead, knowing he couldn’t keep it up forever. He dug his long, monstrous length into her wet sex, shoving it in slowly. She was agonizingly tight, and as he began to press she gasped, her eyes going wide as he forced her to open and stretch for him. Cockzilla put his hand over her mouth, but no scream came, instead he just found her impossibly tight. He hissed with satisfaction as he felt her tight sex slowly give way to his penetrating length. “I’m the only one who’s ever been in here, aren’t I?” he asked. But R.G. just turned her head, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to block him out.

Cockzilla huffed, frustrated that she wouldn’t quite give in to him totally just yet. But he had her in his power and for now that was all he wanted. He shoved his length into her hard, bending forward to lick and lap at her nipples, nipping and licking her this way and that. Though she continued to avoid him, he could tell that she was getting worked up, 70something that evidently made her all the more furious. Her chest heaved, her sex fluttered, and her breath now came in gasping pants. Cockzilla grinned, getting great satisfaction out of her frustration.

The big Komodo knew that he could easily work himself up to a frenzy and be done with it, but now that he saw he could break RG’s resolve he decided to push it, working her as hard as he could with his shaft, fingers and tongue. She writhed on the floor, trying to deny the sensation, but making no effort to stop Cockzilla as he teased her more and more. Though his own orgasm was approaching, he was determined to get R.G. off, and he brought everything he could spare down on her chest and her clit.

It was enough. R.G. bit her lower lip, whimpering in humiliation as her sex exploded with juice. Her rage turned into embarrassment as she reflexively squeezed down on Cockzilla, making him grunt with tension. He quickly pulled out his length and gripped it, groaning as he sent out jet after jet across RG’s face and tits.

Cockzilla knelt there; panting a bit while R.G. also fought to catch her breath. He hissed with satisfaction, but she just stared at him, her eyes filled with hate and despair. He pulled another cigar from his robe, cut it and lit it, staring intently at RG. “I want your phone number,” he said, blowing out a slow ring of smoke. “You’re mine now, bitch…”