Chapter 4

I was expecting hair-pulling or nail-scratching. What happened instead was an image that jarred me to the core. Two naked versions of Angelina Jolie slick with oil, one with blue sparkles, the other with clear oil launched at each other... and dug their fingers into each others sopping cunts. The other Coit'ii gathered in a circle and began to egg-on the combatants.

Snarling in rage, the two began to lick each others faces, necks and breasts as they both frigged each other's crotches with angrily-thrust middle fingers. Blue-sparkled abruptly bent down to fiercely suck upon the nipple of her rival. Moaning throatily, the clear-oiled Angelina mercilessly tweaked the engorged clit of her rival. And blue-sparkled Jolie-clone began to shudder... shudder with an orgasm that drenched her thighs noticeably, despite her body oil. Ribald shouts came from the clear-oiled cadre of random fantasy women, Singer-Celebrities, and Porn Stars. This section of the audience immediately bent over, displayed their gleaming asses, and began to spank themselves on their own bulging cheeks. I wasn't sure whether to snicker or groan. The motion was almost... celebratory? Ah... yes... in Coit'ii culture, rather than clapping your hands, you bent over and slapped your own naked butt to show applause.

My ear-implant warmed and buzzed, and I could hear the transmitted voice of Dr. Cox. "Our species instinctively employs a more advanced means of conflict resolution than the primitive fisticuffs common among your kind." There were so many jokes I should have told, instead I simply stared slack-jawed.

The two had collapsed to the ground, legs entwined as each struggled to bring the other to orgasm. By now, the already-impressive breasts of their Celebrity-template had begun to ripen and expand. Clear-oiled (The more tanned Angelina) had rounded assets large enough to contain a full bowl of cereal each, while her thrashing, blue-sparkled rival beneath her had swelled her mams to a little larger than grapefruit size. Clear-oil was on top, but blue-sparkly ground her fingers into the churning ass cheeks of her enemy as she began to grind their two naked crotches against each other. Their labia were so swollen with lust that they could be seen from my position. And it seemed as though Dr. Cox slowed her hovering over the battle site as if to afford me a thorough viewing of the pussy-moistening proceedings.

The competitors grasped each other under their arms, allowing their thumbs some space to tease and tweak the nipples of her rival. The Angelinas hooked their legs together to grind their slippery cunts against each other with more force, as each began howling loudly. A compound scent of bananas and pine needles blasted my sense of smell. I still couldn't be really certain of the significance of each odor. Their facial expressions were intense... harsh... competitive. It was in their nature; instead of inflicting physical injury, they did this... but why? And how do you determine the winner?

Clear-oiled, rugged Angelina was the next to gush. Her lips quivered and she made a slight gurgling sound as tremors of lesbian rapture detonated within her stolen body. Her breasts shook, as they plumped up three more inches, just surpassing the size of the heftiest grapefruits. And this time, it was the group of blue-sparkled alien sluts all sitting together that raised their dainty fists in triumph -

and proceeded to spank themselves on shapely asses stolen from diverse sexual fantasies. Hmm... the crowd gets excited when one of the contestants climaxes; were orgasms a way of... keeping score?

The lurid competition moved into high gear as the grunting, sweating, moaning rivals tightened their erotic embrace — thrusting their breasts against each other, and as each mammalian orb expanded with arousal, it deepened the cleavage and created rising swells of tit-astic splendor bulging sexily for every pair of eyes, also increasing the tension and friction upon their nipples. The Celebrity-duplicates licked one another's face and neck even as their crotches moved against each other yet tighter.

"Nnaaaaahh-hhh..." gasped clear-oiled.

"Urrrnnngkk..." grunted blue-sparkled.

The crowd edged in closer, as if a spectacular finale were at hand. It seemed to be important which one of the contestants orgasmed next. Sweat dribbled through and within the slopes of boobflesh, their asses rippled as naked groins spasmed in barely-checked ecstasy against the other and finally... at last...

"EYAAAAAAAUGH!!" It was blue-sparkled! The more elegant of the Angelina-clones. The tendons in her neck tensed as the rising tide of orgiastic fury claimed her. She made ragged, throaty sounds as her copied body shook like a doll with the strings cut — a very naughty doll. But her slick rival stood with a grunt, grasped the legs of her enemy and spread them wide open with a single motion — as if to make sure that all those present could behold the quivering cunt of her adversary — and smell the overpowering scent of pine needles. The Victor thrust her middle finger into the sweating, gushing pussy of her vanquished foe, then spread that finger over her own forehead, and tapped each of her nipples — marking herself with the essence of her rival? A trophy?

Predictably, her clear-oiled compatriots expressed their enthusiasm with more shouts and further ass-spanking. In Coit'ii culture, it was apparently acceptable to also slap your neighbor's ass. But in moments the show was over, the competitive lesbian sex had produced a victor, and left the loser sprawled upon the matte-green floor, a panting wreck of post-coital exhaustion. So the match went to whoever inflicted the most orgasms upon their enemy. Best two out of three. But the show was over, and that left...

Oh yes, I suspected my intrusion would not go unnoticed for long. Some of the aliens could probably sense my male lust, and looked above them at the captured human, trapped under Dr. Cox's platform with Coit'ii sex-based magnetism that defied human physics. It was almost a given that my cock would be rock-hard, and the aliens pointed and shouted in lustful delight. Many made rude pointing gestures towards their own engorged cunts, while at least a dozen of them caught of whiff of one of my own fantasies and morphed into the image of a statuesque, platinum-blond fitness model with exaggerated hips and porn-worthy boobs. I know, perhaps not the most original fantasy, but there it was. It was strange how violated I felt, these slutty aliens pointing at my dick and dredging up from my own mind deeply personal sexual ideals and throwing the gorgeous image back at me. I suspected that the response was instinctive, but... perhaps a little like breathing. A human does it without thinking about it.

But from above me was a faint beeping sound. And then the voice of Dr. Cox, speaking in a semi-agitated tone.

"... authority grants me broad discretion in my psychological studies to perfect human-adapted Reality Simulators!" The red-headed alien scientist seemed flustered. She must have a live communicator device in her desk top.

"Yet your data indicates that the Awakened Specimen is among the top 5% in sperm count for his species."

"That is true, but I don't see what bearing that has on my neurological studies, Anjiiulliishsuzz."

"You will refer to me as Supreme Andrologist!" barked an imperious, feminine voice.

"Yes... Supreme Andrologist..." Cox seemed reluctant to use the title.

"You forget why we are here; the mind of Man is of negligible value compared to his virility! Homeworld's policy is clear; every human male is to be induced into as many ejaculations as possible without inflicting permanent damage! The Specimen in question is Awakened, and therefore a requisition was placed for an accelerated regimen of direct matings!"

"I understand... Supreme Andrologist." conceded Dr.Cox.

"Do you? Do you understand that the Breeding Dockets are overfilled with paying applicants of the highest status? Do you understand that it is a key function of the leading Andrologist to allocate males to fill this demand?"

"Yes... yes of course."

"And you... Senior Xenoneurologist will just have to scan his brain in between. You will cease using your administrative powers to stall the flow of semen — or else I have the power to strip your authority from you! The Sperm must flow!"

"The Sperm must flow." Dr. Cox echoed. "Do you require my station algorithms to screen applicants for maximized eugenic potential?"

"No," answered the Supreme Andrologist. "The first applicant has already been selected."

With the flick of a few buttons on her desk, the exotic physics that contained me had changed. I was now encased in a man-sized, pink bubble of semi-tangible energy, and I was sent shooting down a side tunnel with a slit-like opening suspicious in its design. I got my first glimpse of the true Coit'ii military. These females stood at firm attention beside a blue sphincter-door. They carried glowing staffs of hot, neon pink. Their faces were stern and disciplined, and the total package was something like Paris Hilton crossed with a blond version of Cindy Crawford, with body oil that was speckled with moisture, as though they had been dipped in vasoline, then sprayed with a hose to get little beads of water all over. They were both identical in appearance, and it seemed as though they were stoically resisting their instinctive urge to absorb sexual fantasies from me.

And both of them were mountainously pregnant. Each belly jutted outwards into what should have been the third trimester had they been humans, round and bulging with navels pushed out. I grimaced in confusion, to be honest they didn't look in the least intimidating. My force-bubble came to rest in front of the stern, pregnant soldiers. And I saw something flickering out of he corner of my eye. What the — they looked like... like cocks! Mobile, blue-colored floating penises hovered in the air nearby me, but I could tell from the flash of lights and circuitry that these were machines. Huh. One of the penis robots hovered in front of me, as if observing me through its cyclopean slit. It flashed and made a beeping tone.

"Registration acknowledged." said Cindy-Paris guard on the right in a bored monotone. The penis bot then swept downwards and thrust itself with a squelch into the pussy of the guard on the left. She gave a soft moan while her eyelids fluttered. The blue, mechanical member quivered inside and gave a few thrusts into her alien womb.

"Order Authenticity verified." declared lefty. The robot removed itself, gave a confirmation beep, then the blue membrane before me squeezed open, and the force-field rolled me inside.

It was a shower... more like a locker room really. I had somehow emerged into the cement-floored chamber with wooden benches and steely lockers to my right, such as one might expect to find in an athletics building. Through the gap in the walls to my right I could see the hard, white tiles and wall-mounted showerheads one might expect in a locker room. There was no doorway behind me, and I remembered that the Coit'ii are quite expert at simulating reality.