Chapter 5

Seedmaker Roberto didn’t know exactly when he woke up. Every single day up until his release into that paradise, the dashing stud always had such a perfect control of his organism: he needed no clocks or alarms to wake up on time, even as early as his earliest childhood, when he was merely a five feet tall, 600-pounds-of-muscle broad-chested and washboard-abs’ed rising prodigy. Even in his deepest of dreams—and the stud did indeed dream like no other creature could, getting more rest in one hour of sleep than any animal got in months of hibernation—the stud had a perfect grasp of the time. In the very middle of his sleep, one could whisper to him, in his ears, a new time for waking up—changes of schedule, for example—and he would wake up on the new time impeccably, never having missed one single beat of his own system.

Roberto, just like all Seedmakers had a perfect and flawless control of his organism. He could make his penis rise and ejaculate on command, as well as cease ejaculating even at the highest of horniest times. He could trigger orgasms in a female by merely touching her on the shoulders, as well as triggering on himself the same orgasms by just closing his eyes and willing them into existence. The stud’s complete mastery of his own self, predictably, led to his total dominion over others, and it wasn’t a surprise how, even when sex was somehow completely taken out of the equation, this stud’s near divine degree of self-knowledge and self-control, as well as his ever calm, ever confident demeanor made him the most attractive thing in the Universe—something that, like the sun, everyone sought to get close to and move around for the pleasure of bathing in his godly light.

A life-giving light! Seedmaker Roberto, just like all Seedmakers, was life itself. Many commented that females were the ones with power, for they had in their bodies the machines that literally born out life into existence. Next to a Seedmaker, though, all such reasonings came to naught: wombs belonged to no woman, but to a Seedmaker alone. He snapped his fingers, boom, the womb was his. The fact that females laid on their backs and spread their legs without ask or context just by seeing a Seedmaker from afar was proof of this: the Seedmakers were the ultimate disseminators of Life in the Universe. Women merely rented their wombs from them, and at any time, for whatever reason, the Seedmakers could always demand their wombs back—and they would have been completely in the right of doing so, no matter how much pain they caused a woman.

Roberto was god. On that planet, however, and with that newly acquired freedom, his godhood was tested. Roberto didn’t know exactly when he woke up. As soon as his consciousness returned to him, he felt, in the barometers and thermometers of his body, that many days had passed. More days than he expected to pass in unproductive freedom, just enjoying himself and delaying his task until he could no longer.

More shocking, though: the Seedmaker could not exactly pinpoint how many days he had spent sleeping. “Hmm ... hmm, gods ... gods in heaven...” The earth trembled with his murmurs. The god was conscious, but also ... weak?? He wanted to wake up, but somehow couldn’t. He felt more and more of his muscles returning to his control, the nerves and neural bridges being rebuilt and reconnected as more and more blood pumped at greater, faster speeds in his system. His body was literally booting up ... and such a painful, slow, long process never happened except with the oldest Seedmakers literally days away from their deathbeds.

A Seedmaker lived potently and studly until the end of his lifespan, which went from thirty-five to forty years old. Sometimes, more rarely, a Seedmaker lived past the forty. The oldest recorded Seedmaker (or at least the oldest Seedmaker they had been allowed to know) had lived to forty-six. ‘Til the very end of his days, a Seedmaker was wild and thick and broad and potent like a teenager, just as horny and fecund as his prime bullish years. Sure, yeah, there was a major drop in sexual activity (and potence overall) after those prime days were over, but after such a drop there was little decline thereafter, and if a Seedmaker wanted to stop breeding, he would stop breeding not because of lack of strength, but quite simply because of a lack of will. Even for the horniest, proudest Seedmakers, it was hard to keep on breeding madly and wildly past their thirty-five. The touch of death made them quite vulnerable, and nature herself seemed to ask them to cool down and enjoy their golden years in peace.

Roberto stood there, taking deep breaths, opening his eyes and seeing ... nothing! «This is bad.» The god of muscles and semen thought. «This is quite very bad.» He could feel his surroundings, yet not interact with them. He could feel a cold, rough, stony surface at the tip of his fingers and along parts of his palm, but he couldn’t close this palm and grope it for more information. His chest hurt and ached, like he had blades penetrating him from under his (huge and hard) nipples. The god breathed normally, effortlessly, but also felt that this breathing added no strength or actual control to his body. He could feel himself while not being able to do anything with his body. Uniquely, indeed; for the very first time in his life, that god of cock and muscles felt a total dissociation between his mind and his body; between his will and his capacity for action. «I hope I haven’t fried any nerve in me.» In so thinking, the god closed his eyes and ... waited. He simply waited. He waited for his strength to return and prayed that his capacity for action was not forever lost.

Time passed. He could count it: one hour, two hours, three hours and forty-six minutes ... he could count it precisely, and after these three hours and forty-six minutes he felt—«Oh, finally!»—the sapling of life returning to his fingers: he moved them, curled them, closed his hands into tight fists, then, a couple of minutes later (twelve minutes and eighteen seconds) he lifted up his arms and felt... “Oooooh!!!” Oh, the muscle! Oh, the delicious rumble and stretching of his huge, thick muscles! Though depleted and knocked out deeper than any time before (by a wiiiide margin!), the god still had the most amazing muscles ever! Opening his eyes, he saw something resembling shapes and rough primary colors. “Hmm. What a pity.” Bringing his right arm over his face, he moved his biceps closer to his nose and gave it many powerful, desirous sniffs. “Good morning, baby.” Kissing ‘em biceps, quickly at first, then deeply and loudly thereafter, one huge sucking, popping kiss after the other, the god moved on to the next arm. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Licking the biceps, Roberto felt its sturdy surface, harder than the walls of the heavens. The veins popped and curled around the immense, turgid surface. The beast stud plopped one of them in his mouth and munched on it; not lightly or kindly, like a very narcissistic bodybuilder would make out with his own biceps, but ruthlessly and violently, really biting the hell out of that vein and making a mess out of his arm. Still, however voracious were his eatings, the huge and swollen vein remained sturdy, godly. The titan stud could do no meaningful damage to his own body even if he wanted to, and the fact that he still stood there, fresh and bulging and muscular as a young bull even after an orgasm that (surely) would have sapped the energy off from an entire planet’s population was testament to his godly power.

“I am such a god.” He uttered calmly and gravely. Every utterance of his voice, of course, was graver than a whale’s call. He moved his massive hands to his abs and there he remained touching and fumbling the awesome muscles. “God, how hot my muscles are.” He slid his palm all over the crevices of those enormous, ripped abdominals, then raised them to the base of his humongous pectorals. “What a god ... god ... I’m such a god. A god stud. Fuck.”

Feeling the heat and the boiling in his crotch, he really desired he could make a copy of himself and fuck it. The desire to lay with another Seedmaker had always been there. The endless parade of virile, muscular bodies up and down, here and there, and the overflowing testosterone, oh, the smell of pure manhood of the common halls ... it was enough to “give ideas” to the manliest of them. “If the surveillance of the Masters wasn’t so absolute and their rules so restrictive, a Seedmaker would probably...” He lay there, talking to himself, and in talking he came to a realization: “Hmm. If given the option, us Seedmakers would only mate with one another. Whether our sperm is so powerful as to conduct the miracle of birth on a male body...” He fumbled his lower abdominals harder, groping the zone beneath which a womb should be. “Unlikely, but not entirely out of the question. Our semen is the most powerful thing in the Universe. I wouldn’t be surprised...”

He stopped, then chuckled. The ground shook and shook and shook! “Anyway, doesn’t matter. If we were given the option, we would probably only lay with one another. It’s been such a long time, basically since forever, since I laid with any creature worth my mighty penis.” He spoke more often and more openly about himself in grandiose terms. No grandiosity, of course, would ever come to match the true reality of a truly godly body. Still, it was an uncommon thing to him. The airs of freedom acted in ways deeper than merely the carnal temptations. “A Seedmaker is so hot. So hot! Often I wondered what it would be like to challenge one of my brothers to a sexual battle and ... finally ... go all-out on each other.” His heart throbbed more slowly, yet much more powerfully. He gulped heavy and hard. A fire was rising. “Those hot, hard bodies.”

He bit his lower lips. What a fat, juicy, gorgeous lip it was! With his huge tongue, he moistened that lip, and sucking it and biting here and there he felt, once again, as he did feel with every little inch of his body... “The pure power and masculine wealth of a Seedmaker.” Raising one arm, he gave it the gentlest flex. BROOM!!! Every gorgeous muscle of that veiny, virile thing boomed, enough to make his heart pound and his breath lose its pace. “What I wouldn’t do to fuck one of them. To kiss their arms—arms like this one—to fondle their cocks, to lay kisses on them...”

Wroom!! The giant stud smiled. “Well, hello there.” A powerful surge of energy came from his crotch. “Finally awake I see.” His immense mega cock, flaccid as it could be, answered with the emission of a huge arm-sized pellet of precum. The god closed his eyes and shivered, experiencing those immense bursts of power that flowed throughout his body like waves of condensed testosterone.

“Hmm! So good!” Lowering his hands, he gave the base of his penis a mighty grab. “Looking strong and sturdy as always.” With his enormous pectorals bulging and roaring, the gorgeous male began to fumble his almighty penis at its base, encircling its girth whole with his hands and seeing that another full hand would have been needed to fully encompass the massive thing. “I wish one Seedmaker could penetrate me with such a mighty penis. To get their semen deep into my guts ... to overflow with them...” Flashes of hundreds of thousands of breedings came to his mind. “To make my belly swell as they pump gallons, so many gallons of the thickest, most virile seed inside of me, to the point of making the cum surge to my throat...”

He moved one hand up, groping the immensely thick neck. “And then keep cumming and cumming and cumming until the hot semen flowed up to my mouth, made it full and my cheeks bulge with the hot stuff, and then forced me to puke it up as load after load after load kept coming, endlessly virile, so powerful and mighty.” He smirked. “I did that with so many women when I was finally authorized to breed. Only problem, of course, was taking care to not kill the poor things when transforming them into glorified extensions of our mega pricks. Of course...” He bit his lips, breathed in deep, and groped one pectoral hard, pinching his enormous, hard nipple while his other hand stroked his cock. “A Seedmaker has no risk of dying. We’re gods, each and every one of us, and only gods can fuck gods. I wonder...”

He felt (or feared) it was futile letting his mind float into dreams he knew were unlikely to become a reality. “I am here.” He answered, defiantly. “In paradise.” A paradise that, due to his blurred vision, he still quite couldn’t see again. “Against all odds.” Then an idea came to his mind; “If I perform well ... if I catch this invader quickly ... I wonder if I can ask the Masters for three or four Seedmakers to make me company in this paradise. Us boys always wanted to breed and make love to one another.” His mind traveled fondly to the hard, ultra-mega-muscular bodies of his companions. “Ricardo. Reynolds. Stronda. Leo. The only thing that kept us apart from each other ... that kept us ... from...”

A deep breath. The monster shivered. Wroom-wrooom-wroom...! The stony surface under his back creaked a little. It was too much power, too much weight even when the stud was only experiencing a very slight orgasm. “God, how savagely we would have torn through each other’s bodies if we could! Stronda and Leo are in their thirty-five now. They’re rebellious, like me, and no longer perform to the Masters’ expectations.” So thinking, he went on dreaming, and the base and upper half surface of his mega prick was always warm under the intense fondling of his hands. “The Master have little use to them. They might fear a union of three (old) Seedmakers, but what fear can resist their strength of at least four thousand uber-strong super males—including all the Great Fifty who are undyingly loyal to the tyrants.”

Casting his gaze up to the skies, he wondered what time of the day it was. His sight was still blurry and mostly monochrome. He could see, however, a very dim blue covering the entirety of the dome. “Must be day. Hmm.” He realized it was useless trying to force his body beyond its limits. “Oh, look at that: beyond its limits!” His heart pounded. His penis squirmed so hard it cracked the stone it was resting on. “I, a Seedmaker, have exhausted myself to the point of invalidity!” Though his senses were all scrambled, he felt instinctively that... “Fuck. Three days!” His eyes became wide and big. “I have slept for three days?”

He cast again his gaze towards the sky. The blue was dim, but ... a little less dim than before. “I wonder if they’re spying on me.” He smiled. “If I rebel, they will send Seedmakers after me. Powerful ones. Seedmakers who outrank me in power and strength (as well as breeding capabilities) by sometimes twenty to one. It would be a bloodbath, but...” He bit his lower lip. “Also hot. I wonder ... before the Seedmaker killed me, I wonder...” He groped his tits harder and harder. “Fuck, my pecs are so swollen! Fuck, I am so hot! So hot! Such a stud!” He cleared his throat. The stone was creaking and cracking with every stronger throb of his enormous penis. “I wonder if we could grope each other’s bodies and ... I don’t know...” He dreamed and smiled. “Feel each other’s muscles before he killed me. I don’t know, I...” Biting and biting lips! Again and again and again! “I could even strike a bargain with him: I go down without a fight ... so long as you fuck me in the ass.”

The grip of his heavy hand on his cock became tremendous once more. “You can kill me, I would say, by fucking me. By pumping so much seed into me even I, a Seedmaker, would die for lack of air. Oooh...!” Unbeknownst to him, his strokes were becoming less fondles and more open jerkings of his mega prick. The beast cock throbbed and hardened, but overall remained mostly flaccid—yet what an awesome sight it was, oh, that enormous prick getting even just slightly more enormous, fatter and heavier beyond any person’s comprehension.

An anatomy such as that one should not be possible! “Hmmmrm...!” The earth rumbled as the God enjoyed himself. “Imagine one Seedmaker like Stallion, that god stud, fucking me so hard he tears me up limb by limb. I’m a Seedmaker, therefore a supreme male. Therefore ... I love violence. Even if this gory violence is turned against my body.”

He heard his breaths. It was intoxicating! “I want to be fucked so hard in my anus by such a massive, more powerful cock that, after a single hour of the most thorough breeding of my life, I will feel my hips crack and my legs go limp. Thurst after thrust, the giant will sap the energy of my limbs, then tear his way through my guts, fucking me like a machine gun, and then...”

Wroom! His penis jolted. Crack! The crevice on the rock it laid upon grew bigger and wider. “Then he ejaculates. And given we’re talking about a man like Stallion, his ejaculation sure would pierce my body whole like a laser. Actual lasers, of course, can never do this.” His muscles shivered and rumbled with expectation. “His semen, a single load will!” He bit his lips and jerked himself off more voraciously. “I never touched a superior penis. Never touched a penis at all. Imagine a giant stud like Stallion, with his nine feet of height and more muscles in one buttock than I have in my entire body ... oh, god, imagine! Him and his fifty-inch super cock ... pounding me and pounding me ... ooorh ... and fucking me rough until he tears me up limb by limb oh my fucking...” He shivered. “FUCKING!!!”

Gluurgh! Hot semen erupted from his prick. The snake was very flaccid, yet it made little difference: after (probably) three days of unconsciousness, his superb balls were brimming with semen, and the thought of homosexual breeding with one of the mightiest Seedmakers around brought them to pump and expel about three gallons worth of semen onto the rock. Splat! Splat! The hot stud listened to his hot stuff splash on something sturdy, rocky ... and dry.