That evening the Xylotropic Lounge was bathed in a cold blue light. This done under the orders of none other than Masters McClain himself. The effect, he said fervently, was to be one of complete technical sensuality – everything was to suggest the beauty of the clicking, whirring machine.
The customers, or perhaps we should say – potential customers – were gathered by eight-thirty. That, as was the custom with McClain's affairs, was the time stated on the embossed invitations.
No one was admitted after quarter of nine.
Everyone was forced to wait in hard-backed chairs until eleven-thirty.
Lenny was understandably nervous, for she had never appeared in the Xylotropic Lounge before. It was her debut, so to speak. She had taken the precaution of calling Boss Carl from a pay phone in the ladies' room. He and Lenora had ample time to load the menagerie into a truck and sneak into the wings of the club.
Masters McClain was under the delusion that none of his people were bribable. In point of fact, practically every one of them could be touched by the simple promise of sexual intercourse with one of the harem girls. This simplified the Carl Industries scheme greatly. The animals were silently hustled into the wings of the Xylotropic Lounge in soundproof cages on fiberglass casters.
When needed, these elaborate cages could be pushed onto the stage by a mere girl.
Lenny spent most of her time in the dressing rooms, scrounging around for make-up, adjusting her skimpy negligee so that it hid absolutely nothing of importance, etc.
At eleven o'clock, Masters McClain came into the dressing room and tried to cheer up his nervous starlet.
"Baby," he boomed from his dwarfish physique, "everything is going to go just great!"
Lenny looked at the eunuchoidal little man shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Mr. McClain, I sure hope I don't let you down…"
"Let me down!" he squeaked charmingly, "why that's ridiculous. Don't even think about it at all – just remember this: the machine will do everything – you are just a bit of tinsel on the package!"
With that parting shot, the technology magnate slapped her heartily on the knee and walked from the room with a bounce in his tiny step.
A few minutes later a small bell rang over her dressing room mirror and thundering electrical bleeps began to assail her ears from hidden speakers in various positions along the wall.
"It must," she said grimly to herself, "be time to go on."
A squeaky voice piped up over the intercom next. It was the voice of the Xylotropic computer. "My dear Miss Morgan," it whined formally, "house is full and the lights are going down – I am programmed to tell you at this point that you must report to the stage at once."
"Thanks," she snapped back coldly.
"Break a leg, baby…" the mad computer squealed in reply.
Lenny threw a bottle of cold cream at the speaker and walked slowly to the wings. She was met there by a heavy-set figure in a trenchcoat with bare feet. Even in the darkness she could tell that it was Boss Carl.
"Screw 'em up, slash," he growled.
She nodded grimly and walked out onto the stage. The still somewhat haggard Cubbings was at the control panel of the Xylotrope. He began to twiddle with the dials. The machine which sat in a spotlight at center-stage, began to whir and grind ominously.
The audience, all of them in formal evening dress and wearing small masks that made them look like embarrassed Lone Rangers, became completely silent. The hush made every noise stand out, in her paranoiac nervousness Lenny thought she heard a muffled snort from Droopy, the giant sloth, who was supposed to be secreted in the wings.
She stood for a moment in the shadows directly behind the spotlighted Xylotrope. Then she raised her hand for the orchestra to begin.
As might have been expected, Masters McClain had arranged to have electronic music supplied by the Xylotropic computer. It lacked something in the way of beat.
Lenny swallowed hard and began to dance, making the best of the weird music.
Somewhere in the back rows she heard a distinctively polite snigger.
In order to squelch the Doubting Thomases, Lenny began to work at her filmy negligee. McClain had had his engineers equip it with an invisible zipper that was programmed to fly apart when the electronic music struck a certain note.
Disdaining that convention, Lenny began to grind and twist her full, lovely hips. The motion caused the negligee to fly up and bare her thighs and bottom. As the energy of her dance increased, her extraordinary breasts flopped free of all visual interference.
With a sudden animal-like screech – Lenny ripped her costume to threads – scattering the pieces like wild oats over the front-row audience. In his exclusive box, Masters McClain wiggled uncomfortably. He bent to whisper to a client, "What the hell did she do that for? I mean it's not clean. It's – it's crude and untechnological!"
The client, who happened to be the famous star of the silver screen, Lyle Montagne, turned to McClain and stuck out his tongue allowing a trickle of saliva to dribble down onto the polished aluminum floor.
Meanwhile, Lenny had approached the Xylotrope. She held it tenderly in her hands. She caressed the pulsating plunger. Finally she put the device into her mouth and rotated it wildly, passionately.
Masters McClain relaxed slightly in his box and commented to the actor beside him, "Well, that's better, I mean, that is real sex!"
Montagne turned to him with a sneer and chided, "Yeah, how come you never taught the fucking thing to curse?"
"What?"
"I'm telling you, ya dumb scientific bastard," Montagne went on, "I could do a better job than that thing any day."
McClain simply sniffed disdainfully and turned his attention back to the show.
"Say," Montagne whispered a little too loudly, "I sure would like to trade places with that machine!"
McClain squirmed uncomfortably in his aluminum seat. "Boy," he whined in a metallic voice, "you really are a perverted sonofabitch, Montagne!"
At this juncture, Lenny had already inserted the pulsating, whiffing, maple-syrup-secreting Xylotrope into her vagina. She felt its many surfaces stirring her to the very vortex of desire. She was playing it straight now – her face flushed with urgent need – her brow broke in diamonds of perspiration.
The audience was becoming truly excited; men and women were beginning to move in their seats restlessly. Hands searched and groped through evening clothes for telltale bulges and soft, damp yearnings.
Lenny ground her smooth hips down over the driving plunger of the Xylotrope. She was actually trying to come on the machine now; it had really excited her.
"Yummmmy!" she crooned, "Ummmmm! Hurry! Hurry!"
The audience was now on the edge of its collective seat. All eyes were riveted on her gorgeous, trembling body. They knew they were about to see the first public, Xylotropic orgasm.
But it didn't come.
And she didn't come.
"Make me come!" Lenny screamed out in sincere urgency. "Please make me come little machine! Please!"
But she could not get from it the little extra push she needed to send her flying over the brink of thundering climax. Her face began to contort in anger and frustration.
"What the Hell is wrong with this machine, McClain? It ain't got no balls!"
A low, threatening murmur rose up from the restless crowd. They were beginning to mumble something about balls.
Masters McClain sensed disaster forming around him. Desperately, pleadingly, the little man leapt onto the seat of his aluminum chair. "It has balls!" his tiny voice screeched out in fearful protest, "It does! It really does! It has a maple syrup solution designed to secrete in seminal bursts at the proper moment as determined by the xylotropic computer, guaranteeing simultaneous orgasm effects which surpass…"
His feeble cry was cut off by a growing murmur from the crowd. "Balls," they cried in unison, slipping easily into the rhythm of a chant. "We want balls! We want balls!"
Lenny's voice rose above them all, as Lenny was humping and thumping and grinding onto the throbbing Xylotropic plunger. It was to no avail that she strained. She began to scream bitterly, "Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!"
The crowd took up her chant, mocking the new-born Xylotrope as though it were a toothless old man trying to please the big star with its limp-sponge dick.
"Damn it!" Lenny screamed out over the rioting crowd, "I'll show you what you want! I'll show you something dirty and groovy!"
She cast the unfortunate Xylotrope aside carelessly and placed two fingers into her mouth, whistling loudly. The sound had barely escaped her lips when the blurred figure of a massive grey Great Dane shot across the stage.
Lenny hadn't expected this, but she welcomed it for the second time that day. The huge dog did not waste any time now; he knocked the young blonde woman to the floor and waited for a short second for her to begin to rise. When her buttocks came up from the floor, Horatio drove his quivering red prick deeply into her cunt.
Lenny screamed out for joy, knowing that she was coming in tremendous spasms beneath the romping advances of a three-year-old thoroughbred.
"Arghhhh!" Lenny screamed, "Ahieee! Cuntfucking dog! Screw! Screw! Hump! Hump! Or! Oh! I see stars! I see Heaven!"
Lenny was aware of very little from that fine moment on. She sensed basically that there was some kind of wild stampede on the stage. Lenora appeared from the shadows, thrusting the inquisitive boa constrictor in and out of her vulva. The red tongue probed and searched in the gypsy womb for some key by which to open the door of understanding to this peculiar, human ritual, but the cold-blooded eyes saw nothing.
Somehow the sleepy sloth piled onto our Lenny and pumped her briskly with his colossal prick. She noticed this because he was not wearing his customary sailor suit. Instead, he had donned the coat-and-tails of one of the more rambunctious customers.
For the unfortunate Masters McClain the evening was so diverting, however, he was aware of only one thing. The audience had become foul, lustful beasts. His whole concept of a new technological sexuality – clean metallic stimulation in the relative privacy of one's own home – this whole lustrous concept had been shattered forever by the wicked Lenny Morgan and her magnificent menagerie.
He even suffered the ultimate of indignities. As he rose in his seat, clambering to the top of the aluminum seat which he personally had designed to fit the contours of the gluteus maximus – as the proud owner of the revolutionary new Xylotrope stood to stop the wave of customers who were storming the stage – Lyle Montagne reached over and tapped the aluminum leg of the chair.
"Light as a feather," Lyle commented dryly. "That's quite interesting. Why, a small breeze would probably move it. It's such a fine alloy." With that, the famous actor puffed lightly on one of the legs and sent the erstwhile inventor tumbling down onto his plump bottom.
"Damn!" the fat little man cursed mournfully. "Pride before the fall…"
"Yup," the actor added. "But after the fall – life! That's the way it happened in the Bible. You know – after the fall came rich, fertile, life!"
The tiny dwarf-like scientist and promoter seemed confused. He rubbed at his sore fanny and watched as the charging crowd trampled the Xylotrope to bits and pieces with a raucous chorus of cheers and curses. They then whirled in noisy delight to sample the physical joys of the menagerie and each other.
A fat woman in a low-cut evening gown ran clumsily after the scampering burro.
Another man enjoyed his wife from behind for the first time in twelve years, while she enthusiastically sucked on the mammoth prick of a hirsute gorilla. They suddenly screamed out in earsplitting harmony, and then fell exhausted into each other's arms.
In the light-booth, Boss Carl had successfully overpowered the technicians by opening his raincoat and laughing like a sex-crazed hyena. He then quietly shifted the dimmers from cold blue to lusty, warm red.
Lyle Montagne stood over the wounded McClain, laughing heartily with arms akimbo. After a moment or two, he took pity and looked down with understanding eyes.
"You had a question, I believe, Mr. McClain?"
"Yeah," McClain continued to rub timidly at his sore bottom as he stared dizzily up at the actor, "I wondered about that word you used before – uh – fecund. What does fecund mean?"
Lyle Montagne looked out over the chaotic scene below and laughed genially, "To you – my technological friend – it simply means dirty."
"Oh!" McClain commented self-righteously. "Is that all?"
"Yes that is all."
"Well, I guess it's not such a bad word in itself."
"Oh fuck you, you bastard. Look what you have done to this place. And then you talk about a word like fecund."
"What do you mean what I have done. Don't you think what I have done is good?"
"Yes but we're not enjoying any of the fun. That is my trouble."
At that McClain stood up and started unbuckling his pants.
"Well, let's go find us some girls then."
"Now wait, I don't want a girl," Lyle Montagne said stepping toward Mr. McClain.
"What do you want?" McClain asked ignorantly.
"Why some of that fat ass of yours," Montagne replied.
Then he lunged at McClain and caught him around the neck.
He began stripping the older man's clothes off of him.
McClain, of course, protested. But to no avail.
Soon Lyle had McClain's clothes off of him and was preparing to take his own off.
"How am I going to hold you while I take my clothes off?" he asked laughing.
Just then a pretty young girl stepped out of the crowd and said, "Hey, listen this looks like fun. Can I help in any way?"
"You sure as fuck can. Hold this unwilling asshole while I take off my clothes and then we will get to some good loving."
"Okay, let's get to it," the girl said eagerly.
"Listen you two, don't do this," McClain said lying on the floor.
By this time Lyle had his clothes off and his big nine-inch cock was hanging out in front of him.
The girl grew terribly excited at the sight of the huge cock and started to let go of the man.
"Now hold him. You'll get yours."
"Okay," she said.
Lyle got down on his knees and began massaging the ass of McClain. "I'll bet you have a nice asshole, asshole."
With that he turned the man over and ran his finger up his asshole. He continued to do this until he was sure that the ass was what he wanted.
Then he leaned down to McClain's cock and began sucking it. Faster and faster he sucked and the more he sucked the more McClain moved his hips.
The girl was terribly excited now and had to let go of McClain to run off to find herself a lover. She did not have to run far until she ran into an ape that was waiting to fuck somebody.
She grabbed the small ape and began masturbating him. The ape squealed with delight.
Faster and faster she jacked him off, and the closer she came the more he wanted her to continue.
Then she stopped and reached down between her bare legs and stuck a finger up her twat.
This finger she then stuck in the ape's nose so that he could get the message.
Then she fell down on the floor and he fell down on top of her. He began by licking her cunt with his long powerful tongue that flicked in and out, in and out, causing her to reel back and forth and grab his head, forcing him further down into her cunt.
The ape sprung up and grabbed his own tool and began beating it off.
The girl was afraid that he would relieve himself so she grabbed his cock and poked it into her mouth and began sucking on it.
She loved the warm fury feeling of his dick in her mouth.
But she had to stop, as she wanted him in her cunt not in her mouth.
She pulled him down on her and he entered her and began fucking her.
Meanwhile Lyle had put his dick inside of McClain, who now was panting with desire and telling Lyle to fuck him faster and faster.
This Lyle did.
Faster and faster, until he felt his nuts tighten and the come working into McClain's asshole.
His body jerked and reeled in the orgasm. On and on the come squirted into the ass.
And McClain had dropped his load on the floor. He too was screaming in delight at this new found happiness.