Xeno's World of Men

I was slowly introducing Novan-on-Novan porn but aside from the gay population this wasn't finding much traction. I'd keep it playing in the background of various out of the way places. There wasn't enough pushback to make me consider stopping.

Society was basically up and running, easy cases handled by monitors and aides. I interacted with Overseer less and less, sometimes still adjudicating, sometimes just following up on demographics as more Novans grew addicted to anal while others stayed firmly tops.

I had a team of engineers making proposals, currently focused on a big project, Alpha-0.

###

== VIII. Hole Opening Day

== 60 days in, temperature in Alpha-0: tropical

== 750.000 Novans, 12% considered anal addicts, 2% gold and black bulges each

With Gamma-2 filling up, it was getting obvious that people needed a change of scenery.

The individual segments of our subterranean settlement were developing different traditions and architecture was as varied as we could make it with some truly alien areas among it. But ultimately you *knew* you were underground.

Alpha-0 was the vacation spot everybody wanted.

I'd made sure I was among the first few randomly chosen groups to go up there, regardless of how many preference tokens anyone had dropped.

A dome of nearly perfect transparency spanned far overhead the brownish-orange soil of Terra Nova, letting the light of the magic hour fall eternally on the glamping tents, bungalows and temple-style row houses.

There was hardly barstool or deckchair without Magic. Algae bulbs bloomed in wild colors between fern bushels. A wide sandy crescent bordered a shallow ocean where aquatic drones offered three fishing difficulty levels as hunks raced by on self-propelled wakeboards.

Marble terraces led down to aesthetic ruins at the border to the beach, gentle mist wafting among the pillars and arches. The rainbow of aura lights gleamed within. Blue Chill, Yellow Fun, Green Joy and especially Red Charm all led to fucking in the end, whether cock, fist or Magic. Bulges were optional -- except the gold ones of course -- so dicks and balls were dangling all over the place.

Right before me was an open air bar - stools around a natural rock that faucets had been drilled through - including fairy lights and tiki torches with holographic fire. Some patrons around the bar jerked off.

On top, two dudes were fucking by humping their asses together, two Magics suckered to each other. They had the same tan skin tone, despite their different ethnicities, identical arrows of pure white hair, and matching calf-sleeve imprints. I wasn't up to date on all clan and tribe markings. There were too many now, changing too fast.

I got myself a glass of faint pink Dream Of Zero (mango and pineapple) and leaned on the white metal railing, next to a gold-bulge with a "Hole-00029" imprint on his forehead.

Some Novans were already speculating about the next dome and what theming they hoped for. I'd have the monitors ask around for ideas when the time came.

The moment I took off my bulge, a willing mouth took my dick in to the base. Maybe I'd made cum a little *too* delicious. Well, no going back.

###

== IX. Justice Is Xeno In Action

== Day 68, discontent: minimal (rising)

== 780.000 Novans, 16% considered anal addicts, 4% gold and black bulges each

With my arms around two gold-bulged twinks I tried to find my bulge's number among today's schedule for mandatory labor.

I'd moved to Gamma-1 and joined the Winged Monkey tribe who were trying to make indoor bungee jumping work in our spare time.

The morning news only told me things I'd already known from my last chat with Overseer. One of our oldest Novans had undergone rejuvenation. He'd be in near-stasis for half a year while his cells got reset until he was almost a teen. This did a bit of a number on the brain, with some memories lost or personality traits altered. The aliens had not adjusted all their tech perfectly to us before vanishing.

It was interesting, though, and had me thinking about the long term, as one of Overseer's hip-high, rolling drones called me away from my group to fix a possible pipe burst -- our code for serious trouble.

I slapped each twink on the ass a final time and headed off.

###

The men who just couldn't seem to find their footing in my sexy society were reaching critical mass.

Despite my best efforts to hamper rebels, enough of them were collecting malcontents and sympathizers to cause delays or sabotage if I left them to their own devices.

In a blocked off elevator cabin I looked over the images of the dozens of would be revolutionaries. Bald hunks of all colors, only neutral bulges. Many of them had FREAK written in their chests or arms, possibly as a secret sign to each other. Several of them had had white bulges before, walking around as zombies for days at a time.

I saw Clint among them, the beefy white guy who'd first prompted me to move forward with my sexy plans.

"What are the chances of them rallying in some way and challenging my leadership?"

[Currently 0.3%, rising. Without my constant attention, it would be roughly 20%.]

"That high?"

[Life satisfaction is extremely high, according to observation and informal surveys, but several points of contention are common enough to act as rallying points for organization.]

"Short term solution, distract these guys in particular. I think we talked about Hole Greed Protocol a week ago. Is that ready?"

[I have the necessary brain-scan data from anal addicts to recreate the sensation in any Novan.]

"Good. These rebels should get a subtle dose of that, say 20% of the max, spiking to 80% if they're near Magic. If that's not enough to make them hop onto a rod, spike to 130%. If they're on but get off, hit them with 200%. That should keep them too busy fucking to gather allies."

[Implementing...]

"Overseer, I'm thinking about reworking the punishment system. The whole zombification was just a stopgap so I didn't need prisons. It's becoming untenable."

[I agree.]

I have an idea... But first, what are the rebels even demanding?"

###

An easily granted demand was to ease up on the schedules. For men who could organize their own time just fine, I had Overseer pull back on the mandatory stuff, slacken some leashes. Men who profited from having everything scheduled for them would continue to get just that.

More complicated was the demand for fixed beds. With the underground complex running well enough that survival was guaranteed, and friend groups tightening, men didn't want to get randomly shuffled every night.

There were enough orgies going on I wouldn't miss falling asleep next to new faces and bodies, but I didn't want whole cities of newbies only.

The compromise was "lodges" -- dorms with their own common areas serving as permanent residences. I'd dole them out slowly and prioritize newly built areas, so people would shuffle there voluntarily.

Personally I'd stick to the nomadic style.

Finally, some Novans wanted Lord Xeno to reveal himself. Not happening, but it suggested I should control my image better. Something for later.

###

My reformation of the justice system was simple. If a miscreant earned a white bulge for the eighths time, he wasn't getting brain-fried for over a week. Instead the new bulge became permanent and he'd get hit with a teensy zap if he wasn't on his best behavior, just enough of a hit to the pain centers that it really smarted.

Of course these bulges were just as permanent as the golden ones. It would take a lot of good deeds to convince Lord Xeno to reconsider his judgement.

To keep these permanent marks from becoming a point of perverse pride, "good behavior" included submissive demeanor and eager obedience to all Novans.

At least, that was the public's understanding.

Inspired by rejuvenation, I had the punks' brains "reset" and molded along different lines in a year long process. Turning someone gay was a seriously invasive practice that would alter foundational personality traits as they started from scratch.

The procedure had no official takers so far, but making the punks redevelop their sexuality would make them much happier. I was expecting that they'd trade their bulges for golden ones if offered in a few years. Especially with constant reward-center encouragement.

While I was patting myself on the back for designing this complex system, the humble Greedy Hole Protocol seemed to be doing more than enough. It took mere days until I managed to catch Clint in an alcove, willing to have me up his ass to the elbow, drinking three cumhots in a row.

His FREAK imprint was gone. Unlike many of his compatriots, he hadn't earned a permanent white bulge so far. Hell, maybe he was on track to getting a gray one.

Xeno was merciful.

###

Terminology evolving continuously.

Some men had finally taken to calling themselves Novans, but it was still awkward in conversation.

White-bulged criminals were called punks. Red-bulged monitors were called just that. Black bulges came with either top or alpha as title and the golden ones had a dozen names, such as bois, girls, holes, cunts, sluts, omegas, faggots and that was just before you tried to translate from other languages.

I had plans for a little more...

###

== X. They Keep Me Looking At Your Starlit Cock

== Day 77, chance of rebellion 0.0%

== 820.000 Novans, 26% considered anal addicts, 4% cunts and alphas each, 0.2% punks

I'd barely caught my breath after a game of tag, played with holographic markers across an open area of Gamma-2 where waterpark construction was set to begin tomorrow. Showering in the middle of an atrium, under fake but warm sunlight, together with my buddies who'd been working with me in the offices of Gamma-4's factories, we watched the crowd gather by the temple.

The monitors had taken my vague, underdeveloped idea of a "Cult of Xeno" and run away with it.

We entered a mix of acropolis and spaceship. Only projected candles flickered beyond the pillars lining the long, dim hall, vaults of blue and purple doming above.

200 or 300 Novans knelt on soft floor, all facing the shimmering mass of shifting nano-goo stretching up on the back wall, like a 3D stained glass window, illuminated from within.

Rows and rows of hunks with geometric patches of colorful hair on otherwise total smoothness, sitting so close they pressed in on one another, huddling and chatting in low voices. We squished ourselves among them.

Black-bulge-certified tops went naked and were already rock hard. The rest of us were required to sit on Magic. I'd have to come up with some kind of pocket-boypussy for the tops eventually.

Service was held by Minister Noah with a gleaming blue bulge and his aide. Noah was lanky, boyish, pale, blue eyed, bald. Until I heard his voice echo from speakers all around I had doubted Overseer had picked right -- but he was truly charismatic.

His aide and minister-in-training was brown skinned, Amir, with a blond arrow buzz on his head, was one of the most muscular Novans at his average height. Gold merged into the bulge's gray like a yin-yang to mark him as a cunt even on duty.

The music was brimming with awe and glory. Not organs, exactly, but something synthetic. Minister Noah told us about Xeno's grand deed, that he -- I -- had given them safety, purpose, community, and oh so much pleasure.

It wasn't wrong, most Novans were happier than they'd been as earthlings. But it was just an excuse to get our asses magically hammered. Whole body anal rupture washed over us -- and regular old orgasms hit the tops -- as Noah led the chant.

"My ass for Lord Xeno, my cock for Lord Xeno, my life for Lord Xeno."

Was I comfortable with all that? Well, it wasn't really for *me*, Xeno was an *idea*. I was just letting Novans give each other what they wanted.

Stars, galaxies and a pink shimmer trailed along the ceiling and pillars. A special mix between White Rush and Red Charm, pleasure and love, together with a touch of dissociation and loss of sense of self.

A gigantic face grew from the back wall, blue and purple and swirling with a million stars. Generically male human, blending and blurring to more alien shapes.

"Heavenly Lord Xeno, praise be for light and water..."

I was falling into a trance too deep to keep up with the worship. "...for air and spirit... Incomparable strength of Xeno... Praise be for cock and ass."

The face morphed into a huge, rock hard dick. It *loomed*. The pleasure was getting so good there was more screaming than moaning and more moaning than praying.

"Fuck me Lord Xeno, fuck me Lord Xeno, fuck me Lord Xeno, fuck me..."

Fists found holes, cocks found throats. The orgy was tamer than in the experience clubs, and maybe less coordinated, but it seemed to spread to infinity in space and time, our minds as open as our holes. Praise be Xeno.

###

== XI. All Watched Over By Machines Of Fucking Gays

== Day 100, Temples of Xeno return visitor rate: 86%

== 1.000.000 Novans, 48% anal addicts, 9% cunts, 2% punks, 11% alphas

In hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised. A good deal of gold-bulged sluts traded for a white bulge voluntarily, as long as I tweaked the punishments to be at the limit of what each masochist enjoyed.

With several new punks created this way, I could even more easily obfuscate the "conversion" my would-be rebel leaders were going through, so I was all for it.

Excavation teams were growing the original settlement, with Alpha-6 soon to be opened. It was an experiment in building our own spaces instead of relying on alien ruins. We were also getting ready for Gamma-0, another vacation spot on the surface, with a quad car and dirt bike racetrack. The vehicle blueprints just had to be adapted for human anatomy.

I sat cross-legged at a knee high bar, Novans high on Red Charm cozied up to me, and let Magic pump orgasmic bliss into my guts. I was nursing a cup of Ass Punch Bomb, melon flavor, which had the side effect of making me crave anal - if taste was all an illusion anyway, no reason a drink couldn't also make Magic more fun.

My eyes were fixated Councilor Ben, lounging wide legged on a bench across from me.

We kind of had an elected government now. Councilors with bulges of purplish, blackish, iridescent galaxies that swirled as the men moved.

One of the dozen representatives of my sector was Ben, who was also the recent winner of the "Mister Delta-1 classic physique" competition, medium height class. Wide shoulders, crazy sharp abs, tan, bald, and always smirking, he had charisma oozing from every muscle.

To his left and right were his two boyfriends, gold-bulged cuties who'd never put on a gram of muscle over what they'd left stasis with. Both wore engagement bands around their forearms -- golden spray-on imprints - signaling how deep Ben preferred them in his ass when he fist-bottomed.

I was slowly working my way through most of the epsilon councilors. I wasn't the only groupie for powerful cocks, Ben was beset by admirers even now, but Overseer helped nudge me into the right direction.

Five minutes later, the ever-changing light in the bar switched to green for a moment. A signal for no one but me. I rose, clenching my cheeks to keep Magic in place, wandered casually over to Ben and dropped to my knees before him.

"Sir?"

He'd *just* gotten horny enough he'd want a go, his bulge beginning to strain. He popped off his cock cover and I took it all in. Another one checked off the list. To my luck, he ordered one of his boyfriends to reciprocate and I got to fuck twink face as I gagged on the muscleman's cock.

The entire wall behind us was generated porn -- aesthetic bodies, cocks entering asses, cum flying like a steady rain. There was no more straightness -- the slow, subtle retraining was basically finished.

Every level of society, every building on every street, every Novan was a gay dream now. We were a perfect society.

###

== XII. More Popular Than Populous

== Day 200, two weeks since the last Novan was taken out of stasis

== 2.183.297 Novans, 65% anal addicts, 12% cunts, 3% punks, 15% alphas, all population sub-types stable

I'd been thinking abstractly about the long-term, which was brought into focus by the last stasis capsule being deactivated. Were we whole?

Technically we could have used the data from our own scans to copy ourselves multiple times but aside from a few Novans who really wanted to fuck themselves, this didn't feel enticing. It was also conceivable to mash two men's scans together and create a new one, which was too weird to think about. We could even have used more traditional cloning to vat-grow boys, which was even weirder.

No, by all accounts we'd had enough growth for the time being. Things were settled and stable.

So imagine my shock when I sorted drill bits in a utility closet and heavy blast doors slid shut behind me.

"Uh, the fuck? Overseer?"

He was practically whispering. [I require input on a complex situation.]

"Yes, I'm listening."

[I have repaired the planetary subspace communication array and just finished scanning all known orbits.]

"Anything left? Don't tell me there's a fleet of warships headed straight for us."

[Very little is left, as expected, but the five original collection vessels from the Earth mission have remained in system. Their warp drives were de-coupled and sent back to my first masters' core worlds during the Vanishing, but not the cargo.]

"You mean..."

[I have established a data feed.]

There were no screens in the closet but a robin-type drone had slumbered on the shelves and projected images for me to jaw-drop to.

Five colossal blocks of sci-fi stuff hovered around the Terra Nova sun, each filled with rows and rows of stasis capsules -- with yet more naked dudes.

"Are they... fresh?"

[Stasis appears to be holding for now. The copies were created on the same schedule as you, but with slightly different weights on which regions were chosen.]

"Can we get to them?"

[No, the cargo ship technology would require assembling a specialized printing factory, a launcher on the surface, and a type-B micro-reactor.]

"That's... above my paygrade. I'm so glad I get to say things like that now. Let the councilor rally hear about it."

###

Starting next year we were going to get a steady trickle of Neo Novans for the foreseeable future.

There was a bit of vague grumbling about having to dig out yet more habitation space but the discovery was mostly met with excitement.

I had no complains, personally. I looked forward to waking up and falling asleep skin on skin with lean, desperately horny bastards, do good work, party hard and worship the fuck out of our beloved Lord Xeno. And with just a little bit of nudging, so would every future twink, hunk, alpha, cunt, punk and plain old dude who'd step out of his century long slumber.

Praise be Xeno.