Chapter 11

Cockzilla sat back and sipped his beer; his massive frame sprawled out across the couch. On the television in front of him was some sort of action movie, a mixture of explosions and buxom femmes who wore as little as the censorship board would permit him. It was a Saturday and, having no work, Cockzilla was extremely bored. His trailer was located on the back lot of Antipodes, behind a chain-link fence and some locked doors. He was the only one on the premises, as Henna was out courting investors for Cockzilla’s film and had chosen not to take him because he was “distracting. ” He guessed that it was more because she was going to fuck a bunch of old guys and didn’t want to be reminded of the young meat she had back home. Still, the more he sat and drank, the hornier he got. After getting laid almost constantly for the past two weeks, he was beginning to miss it, and right now he wanted nothing more than some pussy to fuck.

Shuffling across the floor to the door he upset a small mountain of beer cans he’d been accumulating since Friday afternoon. He was big, and it took a lot of beer just for him to get a buzz, especially when drinking watered-down American beer. The beer was just like the Americans themselves: all talk, no bite. Nothing like him, of course. Still, he was too buzzed to go drive, so if he was going to get laid, he’d need for the pussy to come to him.

He laid back on his couch a bit and picked up his phone, thumbing through his contact list. He’d bought the phone in the airport on his trip over because it was so similar to the one he’d left behind in Bali, but a lot of the buttons and features were still a mystery to him. It didn’t help that his fingers were so fat and thick, sometimes he had to tap the numbers with a pencil to get them to go in right. But he’d managed to accumulate quite a list of amateur porn stars and local sluts, mostly by promising them he’d get them more business if they were willing to do a little work on the side. Each name and number was accompanied by a photo, usually of the girl’s tits. Should he call that blowjob-loving vixen from the deep throat shoot? Or that slutty lizard girl who’d given him his tattoo? He mentally weighed his options, trying to figure out which one would be the most fun, and which ones would be too high or drunk to even show up.

As he thumbed through the list, he saw Nekkie, one of the few girls who was photographed from the shoulders up. He’d gotten a chance to catch her while she was smiling for the film camera, her eyes bright and cheerful. Cockzilla grinned. Nekkie didn’t do drugs and couldn’t say no, considering what he’d put her through. It had been too long since he last fucked her, and if he was ever going to conquer her, he’d better get back on it. Besides, he needed to see how things were going, now that Roland was part of the deception as well.

He pushed the button to dial and then waited. The phone rang seven times before Nekkie finally picked up. “Hello?” she said. Her voice was exhausted, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He grinned. She would be extra weak in such a state.

“It’s Cockzilla,” he said. He tried his best to sound controlling instead of drunk, but he wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. Still, she gasped, so he knew he had her attention. “I need you to come into work.”

“But it’s Saturday,” said Nekkie. If she was trying to plead ignorance, she wasn’t doing it very well. Cockzilla hissed menacingly.

“You fucking know what I mean, you cunt, now get down here or I’ll fucking call your boy and tell him what you’ve been up to,” said Cockzilla. “And I mean NOW!” As he yelled into the phone, he sat up straight, the rush of blood from his head making him woozy. He accidentally dropped the phone, making it bounce across the floor and snap shut. Cockzilla was frustrated at first, but then decided that ending the call there was best anyway. She probably thought he was preparing dirty pictures and sending them to Roland right then and there. It was frustrating to have to resort to blackmail, especially when he knew he’d given her orgasms unlike any she’d had before, but right now he needed to get laid and he didn’t mind using force if he had to.

Normally it took Nekkie about an hour to get to work, but that was during rush hour traffic. Since it was Saturday, she would probably only take thirty minutes or so, giving Cockzilla precious little time to wake up. He stumbled to his small kitchen, upsetting more beer cans and knocking over an ashtray as he went. He hissed again. He’d been so used to having a bitch to order around to clean up his place back in Bali that he’d forgotten how to clean up after himself. His trailer stank, the floor littered with food wrappers, empty beer cans, cigar butts and the occasional used condom. The smell was getting to him, even though he’d spent most of his life in the slums of Bali. Sooner or later he’d have to shove it all out to the garbage can. Maybe he could get that R.G. girl to do it. Now that he’d sexually conquered the lesbian, the fact that she was butt ugly by his standards made her unappealing.

Cockzilla hurriedly made coffee, dashing a few bits of hot sauce onto his tongue and then guzzling water. He had to get back into form if he was going to do this right. If he just played the angry drunk around Nekkie, she would just run out and leave, maybe even tell on him to Henna. As he looked at himself in the reflection of the stove, he realized that in the past few days, he’d let himself go. So flush with success, he had let himself go lax, and if he didn’t shape up and get back on track, the intricate web of deceit he’d woven would collapse. He needed to either win Nekkie over before she and Henna came to their senses, or break the bitch completely.

After several cups of coffee and half a bottle of hot sauce, he felt ready to face Nekkie. He moved to the bathroom and grinned at himself in the mirror, flexing this way and that. He had neglected to work out lately too, and he swore he could see slight sags as he moved his arms this way and that, a sign that his muscles were losing their tension. He hissed, gripping the small sink firmly and pressing his nose against the glass, staring deeply into his own reflection. “All right Cockzilla, no more Mr. Nice Guy…”

There was a rap on the door and Cockzilla froze for a moment, then put on his most welcoming grin. He could do this. Despite all the garbage, the stench, the fact that he hadn’t showered since yesterday and was completely naked didn’t matter. He was going to bowl Nekkie over and make her his own, just like he had Fraga and Henna before her. He would ride her star to the top then kick her off, just as soon as he broke her of her boyfriend. That faggot was probably still lusting over Cockzilla’s enormous shaft anyway. “Get in here,” said Cockzilla, shoving some of the trash under the coffee table and the couch. He sat down on the couch, grabbing the still burning remains of his first cigar of the day, pulling hard on it for effect.

Nekkie looked different when she didn’t have her makeup and her slutty pornstar clothes on. She looked almost normal, except for her enormous tits. Her plumage extensions were draped modestly down her shoulders and back, and her pants were only moderately tight, enough to show off her hips and ass and nothing else. Her T-shirt was loose and comfortable, as opposed to the skin-tight ones she wore on set. Her face was tired and scared, and looked more like an attractive waitress or flight attendant than that of a professional pornstar. Cockzilla frowned a bit, almost feeling as though he’d been cheated. Didn’t she think he was worth getting dressed up for? He was Cockzilla, after all!

“Let’s make this quick,” said Nekkie. “I’ve got shit to do.” Cockzilla tried to hide his surprise at this statement. Shit to do? Had his orgasms meant nothing to her? Was his pressure and smooth, seductive charm not working? Clearly he’d let her lie fallow for too long. He had hoped that by abstaining from fucking her he would get her addicted, laying up at night thinking about him. Was Roland satisfying her? That couldn’t be the case, she’d gone from talking about him constantly to not even mentioning him. When Cockzilla saw that she had removed his photograph from her makeup curio, he’d assumed that he’d finally won her over and it was just a matter of time before they broke up and he was free to claim Nekkie as his own.

“Fuck right you do, me!” Cockzilla tried to remain tough, but it was hard when Nekkie was so committed to being compliant. She bent like a reed before the force of his personality, almost in a daze as she dropped to her knees in front of his massive, flaccid shaft. If he didn’t know better, he’d have wondered if she was high.

Her lack of enthusiasm didn’t extent to the sex, however. The moment she got to work she was everywhere at once, licking and slurping, working his enormous length with both hands at once. Cockzilla gasped, caught off guard by the amount of force and effort she was bringing to bear on his shaft. Why hadn’t she been so aggressive before? Why was she bringing this out now, instead of any of the other times they’d been on stage or alone together. He gasped, staggering a bit as she began to suck and throat him. It wasn’t just good, it was GREAT!

As she continued to work, though, Cockzilla began to regain his composure. The pleasure she was delivering became a frustration as he realized he wasn’t in control, that he was letting her lead, and that her lead would be quick and dirty at best. She wanted to get him cumming so she could get out of there, and so her sex was all about his pleasure and none of her own. How had he let her do this? Clearly it had to be the booze, the boredom, and the way he’d let himself go lately. He considered slapping her for a moment, roughing her up and intimidating her with brute force. But he knew it wouldn’t work. The only way he was going to win her over was by blowing her mind with overwhelming pleasure, getting her addicted to him so that she had to do whatever he said. It had worked with Henna, and it would work again, he was sure of it.

Just as Cockzilla was trying to figure out what to do next, he heard the ring of a phone. It was different from his, and the way Nekkie’s pocket buzzed and lit up, he knew it had to be hers. She ignored it, continuing to suck down more and more of the big lizard’s shaft as it rung again and again. But Cockzilla was curious, so he stopped her, reaching down into her pocket and yanking at it. This seemed to snap Nekkie to her senses, her dull, half-lidded eyes snapping open and grabbing at his arm with both hands. Her eyes pleaded with him not to yank out the phone and answer it, making him grin. Clearly, this was the leverage he needed over her, the force of will necessary to pin her in place while he brought her over to his side.

Cockzilla pulled out the phone. The caller ID was proudly shown in its window, showing Roland’s name, number and a photograph of him kissing Nekkie on the beak. Cockzilla grinned and pressed the answer button before shoving his cock down Nekkie’s open maw, gagging her. She struggled, pushing against his thighs in an attempt to free herself, but all it took was one hand to hold her there. The power and control over her sent a rush through his body, filling him with vigor. It was as though he had been asleep for a long time, and his strength was rushing back into him. He was back, and he was ready.”

“Hello? Nekkie?” said Roland. His voice was surprisingly nonchalant.

“Sorry, it’s Cockzilla. Nekkie had to run into work, and she’s busy.” Nekkie writhed and fidgeted as Cockzilla spoke. She was clearly very concerned about what Roland might think, so at least Cockzilla could still play the blackmail card for now.

“Oh, okay,” said Roland. “Well when she’s not busy, could you tell her to come meet me at Shu Ju’s Sushi Palace? There’s something I wanna talk about…” Cockzilla hissed in frustration. Did Roland know? Was he taking Nekkie out to some place nice to dull the pain? Was the little bastard going to rekindle their relationship? Cockzilla hadn’t counted on Roland to be the persistent type, nor to have the same ability to resist Cockzilla’s influence that Nekkie seemed to have. His plans were falling apart, and he’d need to come up with new ones. He gripped the phone in his thumb and index finger, cupping the rest around his lips so he could whisper where Nekkie couldn’t hear.

“Enough about her, what about you and me?” said Cockzilla. “I’ve had enough pussy, wanna come by tomorrow for a second helping?” Cockzilla smirked as he spoke. Of course the little faggot would go for it! Didn’t all fags do nothing but think about getting fucked up the ass all day?

“Listen, that was just a one-off thing,” said Roland. “I’m really not into guys who blackmail me. If you’re going to show that shit to Nekkie, go ahead and I’ll just fucking deal with it. Won’t be the first time she caught me cheating, but you can bet that withered scaly ass of yours it will be the last.” Cockzilla outwardly managed to maintain his cool, but his hand squeezed down on the phone so hard the plastic threatened to crack and shatter in his hand. Roland was calling his bluff? That wasn’t supposed to happen! The little bitch was supposed to just roll over and play nice, like all other canids! How come nothing was working out as planned?

“No, you listen you little shit!” Cockzilla no longer covered his mouth, not caring if Nekkie heard what he was saying. “You do as I say or I’ll make things VERY HARD for your little girlfriend here! I’ve got Henna wrapped around my little finger and I KNOW she brings home the bacon. I can ruin your bitch’s career, you understand?” Cockzilla shook Nekkie’s head in his frustration, his whole body seething with rage. If Nekkie and Roland weren’t going to bend to his whims, he’d just have to destroy them, or at least their relationship.

“Yeah fine, whatever,” said Roland. “I’ll play your little game for Nekkie’s sake, you fag. How about I come over tomorrow afternoon and let you scratch your little itch? Then you can post photos of it on the Internet for all your friends back home!” Cockzilla hissed, killing the call and tossing the phone down on the table. He was determined to destroy their little love triangle now, and he’d just had an idea for the most humiliating way possible. He would do that, and then wash his hands of them.

“Your boyfriend is a real son of a bitch, you know?” said Cockzilla, hoisting Nekkie up onto the bed. She removed her pants, glowering at him.

“You two should get along great, then,” she said. Cockzilla took a drag on his cigar and blew it in her face, but she didn’t flinch. He considered grinding out the stump on her thigh, grinning and laughing as she writhed in anguish. But as he stared into her hateful eyes, he knew he’d get no satisfaction.

All pretense of seduction gone, Cockzilla rutted with Nekkie like a wild animal. He thrust his shaft into her without the slightest hint of foreplay, jamming and shoving and fucking her with wild abandon. His whole being was a tight knot of frustration and disappointment. How could this all have gone wrong? How could Nekkie and Roland resist him and choose each other when he just KNEW that he had given them the best orgasms of their entire lives? The frustration welled up in his stomach, making him feel weak and impotent. His confidence was cracking for the first time since he was a child, and the creeping fear that he might not be who he believed he was made him sick.

Cockzilla pushed himself over Nekkie, thrusting harder and harder as his body seemed to envelop her with sheer size. He drove his enormous shaft in and out of her pussy like a piston, sending her tits flying this way and that. But not once did she cry out in pleasure, not once did she beg for him to continue or ask for his touch to grace her most sensitive parts. Cockzilla came, Nekkie didn’t. He hissed with frustration, taking consolation that this would be the last time he fucked the bitch.