Xeno's World of Men

Clint on the life-feed watched with confusion, then horror, then rage as his bulge turned pure white, almost glowing.

And then he sagged before straitening, slowly, mouth ajar. He was basically a zombie, pliable and obedient with little going on between the eyes.

The effect would fade over the course of a week and by the end, when he was himself again, the bulge was going to come off again, no longer white. If he ever earned this punishment again, it would last longer every time.

This whole thing solved one mystery, though.

If my subjects thought fucking was going to incur my wrath or get them in trouble with their fellow hunks, well that were excellent reasons to stick to quick, manual unloads.

I had to broadcast that Lord Xeno was quite gay friendly.

How? Well, for one thing I literally broadcast it.

One of the more desirable jobs these days was TV host. I'd picked a diverse array of charismatic dudes, high-energy twinks and brutish hulks to do some lifestyle stuff but they also took turns reading the news when there was more than Overseers' eternal list of necessary repairs.

I had already figured I'd need to make sex more of a focus. No more jizzing about. I'd make an announcement, and I'd hammer a mindnumbing spike of horniness into every pair of balls around to hear it.

###

== IV. Our Assholes Are Only As Deep As Our Unity

== Day 20, about 130.000 men (aka Novans) woken up

== Sexual experiences yesterday: 8% anal top, 4% anal bottom, 12% oral top, 2% oral bottom

Most facilities were coming along nicely. We now had swimming pools, a mini golf course, and the lounges were increasingly outfitted with holo-foosball tables and the like.

I'd chosen to call us Novans, which had yet to catch on. Unlike my much more popular invention -- orgasm time.

Cumming was now officially illegal outside of certain times, areas and in company. Cocks were covered outside dorms and the alcoves Novans had quickly grown fond of.

Bulges had received a nano-slit that attached to the dick-slit and only opened when you pissed, allowing you to piss without "disrobing".

Novans could volunteer to serve as oral or anal receivers, getting compensated with a tiny trickle of preference tokens. About 1% of the population was game and soon manned the alcoves.

It was the middle of the day and I was having the best orgasm time yet.

With my dick inside a thick-thighed anal-volunteer and one hand in his blue mohawk I got my own hole pounded by a first-time top I'd brought along.

Flux gel let us pump into each other with perfect friction, deep breathing occasionally turning into moans that joined into the choir of twenty other Novans.

An aide with his bulge still gray -- on the clock -- was getting pounded into ass and face. I'd have to make Overseer remind him of his duty -- and offer him a volunteer position.

I was cumming once again, creaming a load into my bottom who quivered with pleasure as my legs and abs spasmed. It was my third one in a row. I'd nearly eliminated refractory periods so Novans could keep going.

My own top unloaded into my guts. The flux gel wasn't good at holding cum so as soon as we both pulled out, cum was squeezed from my hole and my bottom's.

Eager tongues dove into my crack and a bald head dug into my bottom's ass. Novans were rapidly discovering that I'd sneakily altered the experience of cum eating. Not so much the taste, although I'd tweaked that, too, but how it *felt*. Cum now registered like the most satisfying feast of fat, sugar and carbs. They couldn't get enough.

Day by day, Novans ere cracking and gave orgasm time a try. Yes, many waited for a quieter moment and jerked each other off as fast as possible, ignoring the willing holes, but the fun had only begun.

A tongue touched by rod and I dove into the throat, my moans and his gagging joining the ambient soundtrack.

###

Easy services from whole body massages to running holo-tabletop role playing clubs, the Novans could organize among themselves. Lounges and hangouts offered free "drinks" in the form of colored water and foam with taste receptors triggered according to, well, taste.

The "experience centers" offered what only full use of the brain implants made possible. Mental sensations, dreams, perception tricks, all stimulated through Overseer.

I couldn't have drugged swaths of Novans into permanent obedience if I'd wanted to, Overseer didn't allow that. But he agreed occasional intoxication was part of human culture.

I'd called it "auras" and announced the first "experience party" at select lounges. From conversations I'd had, not many of Novans had expected much and some grumped about it being mandatory.

The first aura on offer was Blue Chill, a calming depressant pretty similar to alcohol in various strengths. It loosened inhibitions but mostly made you drowsy and slow.

Novans had gathered by the dozens in Alpha-1's various experience clubs to chat and get Blue, which had taken the edge off for a lot of them. Familiar enough to get everyone on board but not satisfying to me. Hunks standing around awkwardly, not even dancing? I could do better.

The next weekend had seen a new experience -- Green Joy. Available in a few subtypes it brought an effect similar to weed or stimulants, from calm pleasure to alert confidence. I'd have some engaging conversations that way, finally some sexy dances and oh so many complaints about being way too horny.

No bulges had come off, though. That wasn't allowed. Yet.

This week I finally introduced Yellow Fun, acting on the brain like an easy hallucinogenic or psychedelic.

A hundred hunks, twunks and cuties were crammed onto the dance floor of The Granite Jewel -- the space's solid rock walls intentionally visible between smooth runs of shimmering panels.

Blue, green and yellow arches were available to pass through for various types of Chill, Joy and Fun, with a button to clear the aura from your system within minutes if it got too much.

On the other side was a water wall keeping the place from overheating and getting too stuffy. A holo-lightshow raced over floor, walls and ceiling. I'd even managed to find some former gogo boys among the stasis pods and thawed them with priority to put them on pedestals here.

I held a fiberglass cup of Kiss My Ball, the sensation of tapioca bubbles in my mouth every time I sipped.

I rubbed my bulge on an ass of a guy I knew to be a regular volunteer. One head shorter than me, a triangle of hair on his head as dark green as his eyes, loopy smile, rapidly putting on muscle over the time he'd been here. He'd been called Marc, now went by Hole-18, even off the clock.

I glanced over at the club's soft-floor orgasm-time alcove where five men were jerking off skin on skin with little interaction. Hole-18 put down his pink liquid, the cloyingly sweet Gumdrop Ecstasy.

Wordlessly I dragged my "volunteer" over there and fingered his ass open while I squeezed between the masturbating Novans. I could have waited ten minutes for someone else to break the ice but why not be a trend setter?

The bottom sank onto my cock and within moments I was the envy of Granite Jewel, leading my men by example.

###

== V. I Want To Do With Your Ass What Spring Does With The Cherry Tree

== Day 30, current event: spring equinox parade

== About 250.00 Novans

With the Alpha-1 habitat filled, we settled Alpha-2 but also expanded into Beta-1, a different system of underground blocks and caverns reachable with a five minute vac-train ride.

I'd split the existing population among the locations and introduced a buddy system so newbies caught on faster. Being sent to a new city wasn't popular but nobody complained about the increased elbow room.

Aides waved smooth naked men through the transport system all day. With Novans being out of stasis for a whole month, already lean and lightly muscled, everywhere you looked was becoming more of a silver-era bodybuilder hangout. I was also well on track with a full additional kilo since leaving my pod.

###

As Terra Nova was tidally locked to its sun, there was little seasonal change even on the surface, but equinoxes and solstices still made convenient reasons to celebrate. With our first equinox upon us, I'd called for a parade or rather a party in the streets with booths for auras out in the open.

We had streamers, banners and confetti to welcome the new season, littering the void between pillars. We also had paint, both for some intricate, wild face make-up, and for lazy collective body-painting on massive sheets. We'd made some limited edition drinks, ran talent shows and come up with thematic songs.

Exhibitions, too. Scientists investigated the vanished aliens -- there was plenty of material to sift through and show off. Hobbyists created sculptures from surface sandstone, projected murals onto wall panels, built statues out of shifting gray goo. The only Xeno-forbidden motives were things that reminded of Earth too much, foremost females.

I'd used the day to introduce a new aura -- Red Charm. With an effect somewhat like empathogen drugs it invoked loving kindness and connection paired with a craving for skin contact. Unlike what I usually saw, today's fucking was accompanied by a lot of making out and other tongue uses.

I wove myself between the giggling dudes high on auras as they symbolically threw their worries into a bonfire. Overseer would read the worry-papers before they landed in the metal bowl and analyze them for me.

The false daylight from Beta-1's plazas' ceilings was dim. We hundreds of Novans brushed along each other's defined bodies, systems flooded with lust, joy and the craving for more.

But all this was a prelude to my grand announcement.

This evening's news-twinks introduced Lord Xeno's greatest gift -- the ultimate pleasure of "Magic".

Overseer had developed a dildo for me. Black, smooth, and heavy with technology.

To start, it was the size of an impressive human penis but could seamlessly grow to something that rivaled a leg. It could autonomously twist and develop ribbing or knots, and it suckered solidly to any surface you might find in the Terra Nova city.

A few cliques had formed among the volunteers and more occasional bottoms, who were quite interested, but 95% of Novans looked at Magic as more of a joke.

There were changes coming.

###

Lord Xeno had used the excuse of bulges sometimes coming off on accident to make alterations to the seams. Pulling them off was now impossible, once you had exited your dorm.

Nobody had been able to make use of the alcoves all day. For now, orgasm time was over.

At the experience club, the party had an undercurrent of tension. Everybody was horny to death and no volunteer could help.

Into that cheerful, tense chaos of Blue, Green and Yellow mind--haze came a delivery drone, dropping off a dozen pieces of Magic.

After some initial humor, and the dildos getting tossed around, the walls turned from lightshows into an announcement. A new experience -- Rush -- was now available in the milder white, the harder gray and the brutal black. There were no cabins for it, you could ask for it any time you were "magical".

I'd asked Overseer to dial up the horniness slowly but with basically no limit. Several Novans were *tearing* at their bulges, not caring about the pain, but with no chance of success.

Another load of dildos arrived.

I'd talked to the volunteers -- through Overseer of course -- and they finally remembered their orders. Grabbing their nearest Magics, they sat on the floor, ass filled.

Magic auto-expanded to whatever size most tickled the brain's pleasure centers. I saw the first few fingers going up, asking for White Rush by simple gesture.

The volunteers' moans and screams were enough to make some of the hesitant Novans give it a try. Magic was applied all over the club. Overseer kindly nudged their reward centers to reinforce behavior.

Skepticism reigned, but with Magic expanding by itself to fill each ass to just the right size, all it took was a hit of Rush to convince.

With word of moaning mouth traveling to the hesitators, Magic got accepted in waves. A third load arrived and I grabbed one for myself. I sank down, felt it grow, bobbed up and down and raised three fingers. A hit of Black Rush knocked my brain out for a minute.

About half the club was magical, the rest was feeling quite awkward and unsure.

I trusted Overseer to figure out the best moment to move onto the next phase.

Several of the aura arches switched to red. The music turned more sensual, ethereal. Red Charm was now available, especially for those who weren't feeling magical.

It wasn't exactly a stampede but it gave the non-riders something to do. They filed through the marble bends and soon fell over each other and the magical Novans, happier than ever to have man-meat to grope and cuddle.

Finally, the bulges came off. Overseer announced the return of orgasm-time. There was a tiny bit of fucking, a good deal of sucking and a whole lot of humping. With refractory periods gone, every top would find himself multiple orgasms beyond drained.

Two hunks fell over me, groping, grinding, humping, nibbling. I was anally cumming within seconds as Magic grew further in my guts. I requested another shot of Black Rush.

###

== VI. Intolerably Bright Assholes, Punched Into The Sky

== Day 36, about 400.000 Novans

I made sure newly thawed dudes caught up fast in terms of libido but Terra Nova was still a lot to get used to.

I'd introduced noob clubs as a gentler alternative to experience clubs that Neo Novans could visit in their first week before "graduating". It worked all right, in junction with the buddy system and opportunities to blow off steam, like the gyms' arenas for wrestling, swimming and other competitions.

Teams were forming all over the place. I'd joined the Runfuckrun club for morning jogs just ahead of morning orgasm time.

I was also delegating a lot more. Out of every hundred or so men, one was selected as monitor, their bulges marked in impossible--to-miss red. Many monitors were promoted aides but there were plenty of fresh faces doing community management for me.

Thanks to my red-bulged monitors, the gyms soon organized bodybuilding comps with various categories. Some of the more dedicated trainers and bodybuilders gained a casual following. Along with the news hosts, we were getting some wrestling stars regularly broadcast, engineers showing off alien artefacts and comedians doing skits.

Also, anyone could now request a special bulge in sparkling gold that never *ever* came off, marking them as anal sluts, even at the dorms.

Shortly thereafter, I offered a top-only version - black bulges that had the special property of coming off anytime the wearer wanted, just like they originally had. In turn these men were obligated to provide penetration on demand. To ensure even a spent top remained ever-capable, I had the black-bulge candidates try fisting willing bottoms.

It seemed the Novans in love with Magic were at just the right stretch to appreciate the idea and some took to it like fish to water. I had to cap the top-volunteers at the current number of bottom ones to keep a balance.

Speaking of which, Magic was everywhere. In the alcoves and clubs, obviously, but now also in dorms, gyms, hangout spots. Few Novans were *addicted* to Magic after one or two experiences, but most of them just needed more time. And of course there were always newbies.

We were preparing Alpha-3 and Gamma-1 for habitation. They were more damaged and we were starting to run out of readily available building blocks, so I still needed more Novans to work forge and mine shifts down in less pleasant Alpha-4 and 5. Not terrible jobs with all the robots support but it remained tedious.

Things would stay crammed and I was fine with that.

###

After another exhausting day, I walked past a holo-mural of myself, well, of Xeno portrayed as an abstract blue and purple titan of a thousand cocks -- the resemblance was lacking but I felt flattered regardless.

Passing under warm waterfalls I let the day's grime run off me and entered a bar. A tiny, simple one without aura shenanigans, the walls filled with mosaics of Novan wrestlers and the extinct aliens in vague battle.

Barstools lined the bar on both sides, drinks coming from dispensers. A robot arm overhead wiped my seat before I slapped a rod of Magic on it.

Feeling the pole in my ass grow to optimal size I subtly rode up and down. I raised a finger for a shot of White Rush and observed the hunks all around while the faucet poured me a glass of toxic blue Nova Sludge (citrusy, minty with a hint of chocolate).

For five minutes I listened in on four hunks beating each other up in holo-table games, then two new arrivals sat down right across from me.

A tall, relatively thin hottie, bald with a strong jaw and tan skin rambled in Arabic. "I wouldn't mind it half as much but it's always so obvious who's magical."

I perked up and our eyes met. I gave him a nod.

"You don't mind?" he asked.

"That everyone knows I'm riding Magic?" I asked back. I sounded almost a little out of breath somehow. "No, why? It's just fun. See, my hands are shaking from anal orgasms. Better than any aura."

"Hm, I don't know..."

The other man was black-bulged, a dark-skinned south east Asian, shorter and wide-shouldered with a thin blue arrow of thick hair. He spoke in some tonal language. "Haven't tried Magic and not really interested but all the floor-humping everywhere is a bit obnoxious."

I was cumming too hard to retort, rolling my eyes like a perverted idiot. But he'd given me an epiphany -- subtler Magic. Maybe he'd give me something more.

"Congrats on getting a black bulge, sir," I said. "You have to be a really good fucker to be found worthy by Xeno."

"Ha, thanks, man."

"Any juice left?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "The moment I take off the cover, I get hard. It's part of the deal. But honestly, I'd rather fist, if you're up for that."

I rose from my Magic, feeling one last super-pounding in my guts. "All right, let's continue this chat with you wrist dep in me."

The first guy leaped off his bar stool. "Dibs on the second hand."

###

== VII. What's The Status, Lieutenant

== Day 48, Novans enjoying anal stimulation at least as much as penile masturbation aka "anal addicts": 8%

== 630.000 Novans, demographic note: 1% gold and black bulges each

Beta-2 and Gamma-1 were filling up, soon to be as crowded as all of Alpha had become. Naked, horny hunks everywhere.

My production schedule had finally given rise to "imprints", a mix of tattoo, makeup and jewelry. Sprayed onto the skin it could be kept permanently or cleared anytime without residue. Some Novans had gone for sleeves or full back tats, some got subtle "bracelets" or "collars" of reflective imprint ink.

Also popular were temporary club association marks. I'd joined the Lighting Bitches (a sports club, no connection to electricity), marking myself with a lightning bolt on the neck.

My proudest innovation, however, was the latest generation of Magic. Slightly longer and heavier, the suckering end was now able to expand in length, turning the rod into a fuckmachine, hammering a Novan ass without the need for bouncing on the spot.

They were popular enough to see the use of Magic shoot up.

I was making Overseer track who fucked how and when, so men could be directed to places with Magic when they most needed it. Depending on the person this was when he was stressed, tense, bored, happy or with certain buddies.

Yes, group dynamics played a huge role. Two men fisting or getting magical? Too intimate. Doing it with friends, even if they were just chatting nearby? Easy business.