Chapter 2

I stand in the observation room with my companions, and we watch the muscle god run through thousands of women in the blink of an eye.

Our jaws hang low. Our chins shiver. Our breasts heave.

"H-he's..." One speaks. Then stops. Then, she gulps, and after gathering her bearings (or her ovaries), she pushes through her stammer—and her arousal: "He's not going to stop, is he?"

No, he is not.

The room shakes and rumbles as the god devastates all those pussies:

Brrrm-Brrrm-Brrrm-Brrrm…

It is impossible for it to rumble, for this room, this whole space station, is the strongest structure in the Universe outside of the core of a neutron star (which actually powers this whole planet-sized thing!).

It is impossible for it to shake or rumble... yet it does.

Boom-Boom-Boom-Booom.....!!

The windows are cracking. We are **** to shut them down.

Iron curtains slide over the windows, encasing the room in darkness.

Artificial lights are turned on, then their brightness is turned higher the more we enclose ourselves in this seemingly safe space, though there are NO safe spaces when that bison is nailing his pussies.

Boom-Boom-Boom-Boom....!!

Even before the windows were shut, we couldn't see a thing. Every inch of their surface was sprayed with semen.

Booom!! Booom!! Booom...!!

The windows shouldn't have cracked at all. They, too, were made of an almost impossibly thick and strong substance.

It didn't matter. The whole Universe was bent and broken by the thrusts of that almighty being.

"Uuuurrhm! Uuurhm! Uuuurrhm...!"

Through the speakers, we hear his roars, his grunts, his groans. "Oh...!"

It's been weeks since he'd been fucking, but he isn't tired, and his grunts are mere breaths; they were powerful and deep enough to shake a planet, and we can hear them through the walls even without these audio devices. "Jesus... god…"

The women mutter and the demon runs through the scored and scads of pussies we throw at him. He isn't getting any weaker as the days go by. No: he's only getting stronger!

A powerful rope of cum hits the wall next to us: Bluuuuuursssshh...!! The room shakes harder than average. Booom!! There is a loud thud, and then we see the walls—the impenetrable walls almost as hard as the core of neutron stars!—getting bent and bulged by the **** of his sperm jets.

"Fuck, what a monster!"

Our pussies are dripping. No, of course not "dripping." We're basically pissing ourself on the ground, which is wet and sticky with our juices.

We are the strongest women in the Universe. The twenty of us in here, in this room, are almost the top 100 strongest bitches in the known Cosmos.

It matters not. Doesn't make a lick of difference.

"Uuurrhm! Uuurrhm! Uuuurrhm!! Uuuuurrrhm...!!"

Next to that bull, we're only barely more worthy than the bitches he makes collapse and pass out in violent, virulent orgasms in under a second with the mere flick of his fingers.

"By... the... gods…"

The twenty of us would mean only a few hours of fun for him. Quite impressive for us, in fact, given that he's beating women left and right in under a second.

"He's too strong. We're running out of women!"

We watch him through the screens, and we're **** to deploy almost as many sentries and floating cameras into that breeding room as the women he's devastating and annihilating with his dick.

"Uuuurrhm! Uuurrrhm! Uuuurrhm!! Uuuurrrhm....!!"

His breeding is spotless. Like a machine. He treats those pussies like neither he not them are humans. Just sticks his dick in them (when they're strong enough to even not pass out before he touches them), cums, and moves on to the next cunt while the previous one is gushing his semen out of her overstretched hole.

"What a god!"

We watch the monster brutally run through an ocean of women.

There's an ocean of cum.

An ocean of women and an ocean of cum. The number of women in that room, in this whole station, oh... it's plenty. It's a lot. Even then, it's only a fraction of the volume of semen he produces.

"How many are we on now?" One of the girls asks amid sweet and high-pitched quivers. "How many women did he breed?"

We check the counter. The counter grows insanely fast.

"Seems like he surpassed 120 million."

The number dances in our hands. It makes no sense.

"H-how...??"

Even though we see it happening, it still makes no sense, for it's too much power to be understood, and again, his dick and balls bend space and time.

"Most women are passing out before he even lays a finger on them. They just... smell him," I tell them. "And then on their knees they go." I shrug, trying to show strength by not shivering too much. "He's annihilating one thousand women per second now." I look at another monitor. "I suspect we're running out of prime breeders."

"The Universe is a big place."

I stare at the main screen and feel my eggs boil in my womb. "Perhaps, but it's not big enough for him."

In the outer layers of the planet station, ships are coming.

Well-ornate, beautiful, impractical ships built for pleasure and luxury.

From these thousands of ships, thousands of pussies each are coming. Their doors slide open, their ramps stretch into the docks, and the thousands of babes come. Tall, pretty, fertile things abounding with height, breasts, legs, ass, and sometimes muscles.

Bwoom-Bwoom-Woom-Woom-Bwoom…

The place shakes with their breasts and boom with the bubbly sounds of their ludicrously nubile bodies.

Thousands of beauties from across the universe. Thousands of victims to be consumed and devoured by the almighty stud.

"Come along! Come along, quick!" Our brave colleagues usher them in, and these women are arrogant and confident, having spent their lives being pampered by the richest magnates in the cosmos and bending all males to their will.

Impossibly beautiful women. All of them are crushed and devoured by our god!

As they approach the breeding dens, we see their confidence wane through the cameras. Their gorgeous faces are filled with doubt, and their bodies no longer shake the environment, but are instead shaken by it.

Brrrrrm! Brrrrrm!! Brrrrrrrm!! Brrrrrrrmm...!!

Even thousands of miles away, they feel the vibrations from our muscle god's breeding, and by the time they get to "mere" hundreds of miles from his breeding core, the whole station feels like it's coming apart, just how it feels now, here, in the observation deck.

"Jesus..." I utter. The doors of the breeding den are wide open. We keep an influx of thousands of women a second. This no longer feels like lovemaking, but sacrifice. "At this rate..." I gulp. "We'll needs dozens of millions per week."

"Can we supply that?"

I shake my head. "No." And I gulp. "We'll need to put him down again." I look another counter near the monitors, and the number informs me of time. How long he has spent breeding. "We're clocking in on thirty days now." I gulp again. "He hasn't slowed down. In fact, I think he's just getting started now."

I hear the many quivers around me.

"W-what??"

I look at them. I smile, but I'm also terrified. "I think... all this time..." I gulp one last time. "He's just been warming up."

BANG! BANG! BANG! BOOM.....!!!

Through the screens, we look into the room and see nothing but a sea of semen bursting and exploding with the **** of a planet being born, like the primordial Earth.

"Uuuurrhm! Uuuurrhm! Uuuurrhm!! Uuuuurrhm!!

Thousands of women are fed into the room. They are brough to him by small ships and drone. No longer can they just walk into the room, as there's just semen everywhere, and the tip of his penis produces enough loads to fill up rivers.

"Uuurrhm! Uuurrhm! Uuuurhm...!!"

Our monster is enjoying himself, but he is professional, methodical, rhythmical, even boring at times. He has no "skill" or special moves. He merely grabs the women, lines their cunt with his semen, and cums.

Their bodies are instantaneously filled with semen. In one second, we see their bellies bulge to the size of a yoga ball, then two yoga balls, and then, by the point he's about to "pop" them with his semen, the god throws them away and grabs the other woman.

Like a machine. A business man. Breeding is his business, and he practices it with near psychotic, cold, and ruthless professionalism.

"Uuuuuurrrhmm....!!!"

The bull breathes out steam with every grunt. We see his handsome face, and some of us kneel because of it. Out legs grow weak and out bodies sort of fall, but we support ourselves on the consoles and avoid falling down completely.

"Such a god!! S-such...!" Many of the pussies around me explode into loud, steamy gushes as the women behold his heavenly face. "God, he is such a stud!!"

Their eyes are rolling. We look at the stallion's face and try to read his emotions. He is... fully human. We can barely believe it, but we now that his genes are 100% natural-born human, with no genetic modification or artificial enhancement we know of.

He is a pure-bred, corn-fed, natural-born human... and he's a beast!

His face is indecipherable. We see pleasure on it, yes, but also... dedication.

"Uuurrhm! Uuuurhm! Uuuuurrhm...!"

A machine-like dedication in breeding for the sake of breeding, ignoring all pleasure for himself, simply picking up one woman after another and making sure they are all plump and swollen with his semen.

"Uuurhm-aarh! Uuurhm-aarh!!"

The god sometimes changes his pace, but that's very subtle and hardly noticeable. As I said, he's rather boring in a way, and he needs no special moves or particular "skill" in the bed when the sight of his face alone is enough to knock down, even knock up a woman.

"GOD!! You are such a... G-GOD!!"

Case in point: some of the girls fall around me.

"Pick yourself up, girls." I myself am only barely hanging on. My legs are wobbly and my pussy is melting. The drainage system in the room is working hot, almost getting clogged up at some points, but it can barely be compared to the **** situation down below, in the breeding damn.

"Warning! Emergency pipe system number 34 is unusable." We hear the warnings and see them flashing on the screens. "Expanding emergency system number 35, 36, 37, and 38 to 100% capacity. Systems 39, 40, and 41 not at 80%. Systems 42, 43, 44 at 60% capacity." And so on.

Each drainage system is designed to handle the volume of a small ocean from planet Earth. A few of these systems together hold the same volume as the Indian Ocean in its prime. Ten of these systems, the Atlantic Ocean.

"Dear... god…"

We watch, after thirty days of ceaseless, uninterrupted breeding, the god produce more semen than perhaps the total water volume of two planet Earths.

He's not merely a beast. He is a cosmic deity able to flood an entire world with his penis.

"Jesus...!"

I'm hot. I can't deny I'm hot... and I'm eager to join him in that abattoir.

Anyway, more women keep arriving. Whatever arrogance was left in their faces before they entered the room, it completely vanished once they got a very good look at him.

Their faces break. Their expressions melt. Their pussies explode.

Thousands of women fall every second. It's a good thing that the god doesn't actually get to "put them down" personally at first, as they pass out on their own, at the mere sight of him.

All those muscles…

All that power…

All that DICK!

Booom! Boom! Boom! Boom...!!

We see the stallion grab ten women from the ground with his two hands, wrap them around his cock like an improvised condom of ass and tit-flesh, and then fuck himself with their whole bodies like they're some kind of collective fleshlight.

His penis spews and spews and spews so much semen!

Bluuurssh-Bluuursh-Bluuurssh-Bluuuuuursssh...!!

Rivers emerged from his heated tip and travel a mile until the spherical ceiling of that planetoid-sized room. They splash on the ceiling with such **** that they run over the entire sphere, coating every inch of the ceiling, then the walls, with his cum.

BLOOORSSH!! BLOOOOORSSH!! BLOOOOOORSSH...!!

That's a single one of his loads. A single one of his pumps every time he drags those bodies up and down his colossal penis.

"Uuurh! Uuurhm! Uurrhm! Uuuurhm...!!"

For every grunt he gives, there is a pump, a mighty ejaculations: Blooooooorssshh...!! And then a whole ocean is born! A river system of cum!

"I'm joining them," I utter. Every inch of me is shivering when I turn around and prepare to leave my colleagues. "Prepare the tranquilizers. All the venom and poison. Everything." I crack my knuckles and shake my bosom as I step outside of the observatory like a model on her catwalk, shaking a whole planet with the power of my gait. "We'll need to put him down again. This cannot go on any longer."

The women, though startled, don't raise a single word of complaint. They all obey me and follow me. "Should we fuck him?"

I smirk. "Of course we shall!"

I flex my muscles. Boom! Boom! Boom! I feel my bicep bulge through the sleeves of my suit, then shred it: Thrash!!

My body rumbled and booms with power, and so do all the bodies of my companions. Mighty! Hot! Tall! Strong!

We are twenty of the top one hundred strongest women in the universe, and though we're close to the bottom of this list, it's still unfathomable power, and we stand on a scale that is simply incomprehensible for a loser like you.

After all the preparations are set, we head to the breeding den, the twenty of us, oh, making the room shake a little more as our stallion runs through those babies like they're made of wet paper.

We're mighty. We're strong. We're arrogant and haughty... and we're angry that we're not going to last more than a few hours with him. Collectively. That is, all of us put together!

Each and every single one of us is powerful enough to destroy a planet with our bare feet and our naked bodies... and still... next to him... we're nothing but above-average sex toys; noteworthy only in the sense that we don't pass out immediately upon seeing him.

Ding-ding! Ding-ding! Ding-ding!

On our way down there, we hear a different noise. "Hmm." I look at my tablet, my portable monitor. "Oh, wow. That's interesting."

"What?"

I show it to them. "It seems like we have received... a special offering for the god." I chance course and head on a completely new direction. "To the teleporters, we go."

Some of the girls gasp when they see what's on the tablet, but others don't have either the opportunity or the patience to look, so they hop over to my side and ask: "What is it? Where are we going?"

"To the ports. The space ports."

"Why?"

I look straight in their eyes as I reveal the juicy happening: "The Elites have arrived."

Pussies are clenched. Bits are bitten. Jaws are dropped. Saliva is drooled. "Whaaaaaat????"

As we enter the teleporters, I continue to tell them: "Yes. It seems the goddess got our message."

"The... goddess…"

I look at them as the mesmerizing threads of light begin to swirl around our bodies at the start of the teleportation process. "Yes. At long, the truth about Jupiter and Galatea's son is revealed, and it seems that our goddess, instead of coming here on her own, decided to send her strongest warriors first to see if all the rumors are correct. Well, not rumors," I giggle. "But to see if our message is serious or if we're pulling a prank on her. Anyway," I sigh. "Even if the goddess believed us (and there's no credible reason why she wouldn't, it's not befitting of someone in her station to come here first. No. Someone lesser must come first and report their findings to her. Only then will the goddess decide if this matter is worthy of her attention."

There is silence between us girls are the teleporters are about to send us thousands of miles closer to the surface. "The goddess... huh?"

Some of them are slow to catch on, and her nearest friends give them a summary of what I just said: "The goddess has sent the Elites to see if this stud is all he's cracked up to be!"

"Oh, he is!" The others mutter, their legs dripping a lot of squirt on the teleporters, delaying the teleportation just a little. "He is! And he might even be able to break h-"

Whoooosh!! We're whisked away across the station.

We arrive instantaneously on Port Alpha, which is the largest, grandest docking area in our station. The size of a massive country. From where we stand, we can see hundreds of thousands of ships, and we can only see a fraction of it.

"Oh... hmm!" Some of the girls are a little wobbly as they leave the teleportation pods. Usually, a regular person would need twenty-four hours of rest and sleep to recover from the teleportation. All those women around us, the ones coming fresh from their ships, need only an hour, being so superior in every regard to a "regular" human being. "Oh, brrr! I'm going to barf!"

We, on the other hands, need no rest at all. At worst, we get a little discombobulated, a tad dizzy, but that's all. It would take hundreds of these trips in quick succession to do any damage to our bodies. Well, "damage" isn't even the write word. More like, "inconvenience." Yeah. Only hundreds of successive teleportations back-to-back would begin to mildly inconvenience us.

"Stay clear! Make way for the Alphas!" More women gather around us, and they're the highest-ranking members in that port. Many ranks below us, of course, so they bow and shiver as they stand before our taller, bustier, mightier frames. "My goddesses!" They salute us. "You..." Their leader turns her gaze to me, and her face is beautiful beyond description, like a angel—but an angel standing next to a god, who is me! "My goddess!" She bows again. "You have received my notice, I see."

"Yes, I have, and we're here to welcome our surprise guests." I look around, and fuck, the place is a war zone. As many women are arriving as they are leaving. "Oh, wow." Countless more women, from the tens of millions of supersoldier females we employ to keep the station running, are bring back the girls our god has devoured.

I see their bodies laying down on those hospital beds, those beds with wheels (I never bothered to learn how they're called; get used to this, btw, you pathetic worm, for my world is comprised mostly of FUCKING, and proper grammar or vocabulary is reserved only for pathetic, worthless nerds like you), their limbs quivering still from the orgasms that never really stopped, and their pussies, mouths, holes bursting with hot semen, building trails, no, rivers of cum along the way, and then more soldiers run after them with complex suction machines to clean up all that semen.

Hundreds of thousands of women are being rolled out of the station as hundreds of thousands more arrive. Here, in the mouth of the station, is where the sacrificial aspect of our god's breeding is more pronounced that ever: millions of pussies come in, millions of pussies come out.

At the rate of several millions of pussies a day, our god needs the total supply of prime pussies of the entire galaxy just to keep his dick wet. At the rate he's going, though, we're already consuming a steady stream of beauty from all twelve nearby galaxies—and again, it's not stopping, but getting worse!

"My lady?"

I hear the voice of my servant again, and it brings me back to the tasks at hand. "Sorry. Was looking around just a bit."

"Ah, yes," she kindly giggles. "It's quite something, isn't it?"

"The bull is running through several galaxies all at once. This is not sustainable."

"Sure isn't. Oh…"

I see her blushing, then moaning, and I spot the trail of squirt sliding down her legs, staining her pants, making them darker and wet. The girl is having micro-orgasms, thousands of them, just at the mention of our bull's name... well, not his "name" (he doesn't have one, and if he has, he doesn't need one), but his presence, his being!

"Sure isn't... oh... oh..." She shakes her head, gathers herself, and continue: "It's a good thing the goddess..." She stops again. She yelps: "Eeeek!" A little squeak, she gives, and I see the ejaculation becoming more profuse, if only briefly, between her legs. "Fuck!" She strikes herself with another session of small, but countless orgasms at the mention of our goddess, the Supreme Woman in the Cosmos! "It's a good thing she's sending her private army, huh? The big ones?"

"Yes, yes." I can't hide my contempt as I say this. "Though we were about to take care of him ourselves." I huff. "We're weaker, sure, but it would have put a good fight."

"Still..." The lesser woman mumbles. "They're the Elites. They're..." I hear her gulp. "On a whole different level."

I can't deny this. No one can.

The Elites are the top 20 strongest women in the Known Universe. None other than the Goddess and Galatea themselves are above them.

We're strong, my girls and I, and we're at the top of the 100 strongest women in the Cosmos, I told you as much, but... even then, there is a chasm between us and the Elites as insurmountable as the space between galactic clusters.

If regular human are kittens, we are mountains.

If we are kittens, the Elites are mountains!

THAT'S the scale we're talking about! Between the 100th strongest woman ever and the 20th, there is a power disparity almost as great as between the 100th strongest and the 1,000,000,000th strongest. That's how life works when you plot things on a logarithmic scale: the difference between second and first places is the difference between life and ****.

I can't hide my jealously and my contempt as the ships of the goddesses—true goddesses compared to even I and my posse—lands on the bigger hangar available.

It is a golden-crimson shit whose beauty, once again, is impossible to describe. I won't waste your (or my) time with details, as all I care about... all we all care about... is fucking!

Brrrrrm... Brrrrrmm... Brrrrrmmm…

"Oh, shit."

All we can about is fucking, yes, and even here, in the outermost layers of the World Station, we can feel subtle vibrations from our bull-lord fucking thousands of miles deep!

The ship lands, and our hearts skip a beat. It is beautiful. It is MASSIVE. It is several times bigger than the biggest ship that had arrived before it, and for all we know, all that it carries is the twenty goddesses and her entourage—probably no more than one hundred people.

"It's something, isn't it?" My lesser comments.

"Hmm." I nod. We're no strangers to power and luxury, being recipients of tributes from literally the whole round universe, yet still, even we are humbled before that majesty, that masterpiece of a ship, which alone is probably more expensive than a tenth of this entire station, and—I hate to admit it!—more well-built than any part of this compound except the largest breeding dens where our Lord is now is now... well, breeding.

The doors open. Before we notice it, everything around us has stopped. No one else has been informed of that arrival, but OF COURSE everyone can feel it.

The goddesses have arrived. The personal entourage of the Goddess herself. The strongest women of the strongest woman in the universe. The twenty mightiest pussies in human civilization and, as far as we know it, all of life everywhere.

The Elites. The God Cunts. Here they come, and everyone—everyone! Everyone!—knows it, and instinctively, everyone bows as soon as they step out of their god-ship.

Booom!! Boom!! Boooom...!!

My heart jumps. All our hearts do.

Booom! Booom! Booom...!!

The place shakes as these titanesses leave their luxurious transport. My eyes turn into hearts and my hear turns to candy.

They're beautiful.

They're beautiful before anything that I can ever hope to... to...…

…

…

They're gods.

Before I know it, I'm on my knees. "It is an honor to have you here with us, my goddesses." I speak, and as I speak, I taste salty water on my lips.

I'm crying. I'm shivering and I'm crying as the goddesses, the monstresses, the BEASTS, stand before us, and after my heartbeat dwindles a little and the generalized numbness on my body subsides just a bit, I feel the intense pissing between my legs, and DAMN, I realize I'm squirting like a fire hose as well.

Before we can even understand what has hit us, we're all on our knees, shivering and quivering and DYING in several states of shame and worthlessness.

We're bugs before gods. We can feel the soles of their feet on our heads, and all we can hope for... Gulp! Is that they let us lick their feet instead of squashing us with them.

I can't say anything else. The goddesses, thankfully, abound with love and generosity, and their thunderous, fertile voices put us all at ease: "Nah, the honor's all ours." They're friendly and lovely, but... yep, not even they can ignore reality and pretend that we all stand on equal level. "Take your time," they tell us. "It's been quite a while since we last met, my love, so I know the whiplash can be... disconcerting."

I hear them giggling as they watch the juices pour, no, sprout out of my pussy, and we all share a few giggles and many smiles, and by the end of fifteen minutes, I feel strong enough to look up at them and not go blind from the golden shine that naturally radiates from their perfect-beyond-all-measure faces.

"My goddesses," I bow again, and then I humbly stretch one hand to them, which they take up and help me up kindly.

"My love," the Alpha female of those Prime Alpha females embraces me. We share a tight hug, and I gasp as I feel the brutal difference in our physique and power levels displayed in that simple, harmless hug.

I can feel her holding back. In fact, I can her the star-strong levels of energy that she spends to try and NOT crush me to ****. She's using every bit of her power NOT to destroy me. One wrong move, and my body is split into dozens of pieces.

"You can gore me with a flicker of a thought, can't you?" I utter in her ear with utter sincerity and surrender, and the goddess purrs back, her smile becoming just a tad bit arrogant:

"I sure can." I pat each other's backs, and then she pulls back to look upon me and my posse like a mother very proud of her strong, grown-up children. "But you're the ones we came here to gore." She giggles. "If it gets so bad that goring is actually required."

Then, without any heads-up, she takes the lead and walks with us, and we're left breathless, dazed, and confused as we're guided by them through that station which we know so well, like our guests have become the hosts and us, the hosts, have been the guests all along.

"Tell me," the Alpha Goddess continues. "How long has he been fucking?"

I gulp. The other girls and I trade many anxious, lustful looks. "Thirty days. He completed thirty days just a few minutes ago... or was it an hour ago?" I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. Thirty days, my lady."

I notice something: she doesn't answer. Not immediately, that is.

Booom... Booom... Boooom... Boooom…

The ground is shaking, rumbling with their steps, and the combined march of those twenty superhuman females is enough to split a mountain on a regular planet. Every surface of this stations, as I have exhaustively explained, is almost impossibly dense, yet, when I look at their feet, I see a slight indentation on the ground; each of their steps bending the ground just a little.

"Holy shit..." I mutter, but I suck back my words as the Alpha... she looks different. Disturbed.

"Thirty days, huh?" She finally says something, and there's but the slightest waver in her voice; a crack betraying an emotion that I quite literally never heard from them before: FEAR. "Hmm. Impressive." Whatever vulnerability she has shown, she hides it almost immediately with a raise of her chin and a widening of her mountain-like shoulders.

BRRRRMM!! BRRRRRMMM!!

The place shakes as she seems to grow even bigger, standing at twelve feet compared to my "measly" ten feet of height, and as she recomposes herself, I notice the other Elites becoming tougher and harder as well, their muscles roaring like engines being revved: Brrrrm!! Brrrrrmm!! They're preparing themselves for battle!

"Impressive," the repeats. "I figure he's been fucking nonstop."

"Hmm." I nod.

"How many women has he fucked?"

"120 million per our last count, but he probably fucked another million since we left the observatory."

"Shit…"

"Excuse me, goddess?"

"I'm sorry, love." She touches the middle of her neck as she lowers her head and smiles candidly. "It's... impressive stuff. He's the greatest fucker... well, I guess I should call him breeder... yes: he is the greatest breeder we have known about, if these numbers are correct."

"They are, my goddess." I purr. "I'm afraid."

"It's fearsome stuff, indeed." We step into the teleportation pods, and the teleportation process begins as we converse: "His father... is an odd case."

"We know." I can't hide my smile. "Monogamous, would you believe it?"

"No." She curls her lips. "I always thought that god being monogamous was such a waste. Humanity might not have a lot left to improve (not if we are the starting point, that is), but still..." She purrs, and I can see the arousal traveling across her body by the way she sways her hips and shakes her legs. "Such godly semen... oceans of that sperm, hmm... they shouldn't be withheld like this. Oh, Galatea is one damn lucky woman!"

"She is."

"Her womb must have melted by now," she says this as a joke, but then she turns to look at me more earnestly as the lights begin to spin very fast around us. "Is he the only son? Truly?"

"Yes, I'm afraid." The teleportation begins. It's but a second until we arrive back at the observation room, or its vicinity. "Ooof!" I'm a little nauseated as I step out of the pod, but, as I said, my superior body and enhanced genes make the effects of teleportation nothing but a mild inconvenience.

"You were saying?"

After I piece together the broken parts of my mind after that brief moment of nausea, I look up to see the goddesses, the Elites, waiting for us as they walk ahead, and then again, I get another sense of the chasm that separates us: we suffer some headaches and a bit of nausea from the teleportation whereas they suffer... nothing. They walk just as casually and mightily as if they had walked through a door.

"Yes, my lady." I don't waste anytime thinking about this before I straighten my back and lead my posse behind them, accepting my position of lackey in the very station I'm technically, formally in control of. "As I was saying, Galatea has become barren."

The Elites stop. The wall rumbled with their sudden halt: BRRRRRMMM!!

I feel the incredulity in their gorgeous eyes, and before the Alpha even has to pop the question, I continue and answer it already: "The stud is their first and only son. It seems..." I pause for a moment, struggling to find the proper words to say it. "When he was born, he caused a lot of damage to her uterus, so..." I shrugged. "Galatea is infertile now, though you're excused for not knowing this, as they have kept it all a secret." I nod. "Just like their son."

"Huh." The Alpha utters, simply, and then…

One second.

Two seconds.

Three. Four. Five…

After fifteen seconds without saying anything, the Elites move again, walking with us toward the lower levels under the observation deck, where the doors to the god's breeding den awaits us!

"Huh. Galatea... is... barren," she utters the words with a palpable hint of SHOCK on the back of her throat. "How the fuck...?"

The place shakes. It shakes with their steps, it shakes with her gasp of shock, and it shakes, of course, with our god fucking and breeding.

Solid walls of neutron-dense, quantum-bound steel separate us from the copulating bison, but already we can feel the strength of his thrusts, the **** of his sperm-gusts, and the depth of his godly voice ripping the very fabric of the universe apart, just... like…

"Uuuurrhm!! Uuuurrhm!! Uuuurrrhm!! Uuuuuuurrhm!!"

A machine! Fucking and dumping seed on those bodies like it's no big deal!

When we arrive at the first hallways leading directly to the den, we meet the endless caravan of women who are herded (quite literally like cattle) towards the distant entrances. "Moving along, girls, moving along!" Strong women guide them, and when they catch a glimpse of us... "HOLY SHIT!" They fall to their knees and gush, cry, squirt…

Our presence generates a big commotion, and if I am to describe everything that happens until we get to the entrances of the god's damn, fuck, I'd need another ten pages.

"Tell them to either leave or stand their ground," the Alpha Elite utters, and her voice is like an angel singing in the middle of a raging, erupting volcano. Power and beauty walk hand-in-hand in every inch of these women and every fraction of their god-like beings! "They won't be needed. Not for the time being." They crack their knuckles, and OH GOD…

BANG!! BANG!! BOOOM...!!

Shock waves spring from their knuckles and smack us in the faces, like, they literally slap us with the **** of that simple stretching.

Most of the women around us—literally 100s of thousands gathered as an offering to the ever-hungry god!—are either on their knees or laying down on the floor, collapsed on their own puddle of squirt, as the Elites make way to the entrances. "G-gods... gods... they're gods...!!" They cry as they squirt. Poor girls. They were already so afraid and anxious as they neared the abattoir, and now their poor brain cells are fried as they get a little taste of true godhood: the vision of the Elites being followed by us, the lesser power-women of the universe. "Goddesses! Goddesses! Gods...!!"

We ignore their cries as we approach one of the vast entrances to the chamber. The walk takes one hour, at which point the stallion has probably bred another million women, if he's not taking turns breeding old wombs, that is, refilling wombs that he has already filled before.

"Hmm..." The Alpha Elite utters, and again, I see the same fear on her face as that of the lesser girls who are all passed out around us. "He is... impressive."

The doors are closed. They have to be, lest this whole damn place is flooded!

The antechamber shakes. It shakes. And it shakes.

Booooom... Booooom... Booooom... Boooooom…

There's still one hundred feet of pure neutron-steel separating us from the next chamber, and then another one hundred feet of this chamber to the very last door of the breeding them, but already we can feel his thrusts in our womb, and his roars and grunts shaking the atomic bounds of the particles that make up the structure of this station, every surface of it.

"Dear... gods…"

We stand back, my friends and I, and for once, we're allowed to feel cocky about those goddesses. "Afraid?" I ask the Alpha, simply, and she answers:

"A lot." There's no shame between the strong. Every word that flows out of our lips is sincere, and the more sincere the higher-ranked we are. "He's destroyed the second strongest womb in existence... just by his being born!" She mutters, and we all hear her deep, rumbling gulp.

GULP!

We feel her fear, and she vocalizes it elegantly: "One month fucking hundreds of millions of wombs." She shivers, and the arousal is visible through her trembling limbs. "He appears to be every bit the beast you have told us about. If he is only a fraction as strong as his father," she trades a few nervous, but also excited looks with her friends. "We're doomed. His father, Jupiter, was the only man to have brought our goddess some kind of sustained pleasure, more or less. He was the only one to have come close to making her feel... weak. And ****."

The room continued to shake: Booom! Booom! Booom! Booom...!!

"By our own reckoning," she continues. "Knowing what we know of our lady; having sparred with her so many times already, if Jupiter's son is only one-tenth of what his father was, then we're all, all doomed." She clears her throat as the arousal seems to be getting her words stuck in it. "We have laid if our goddess many, many times, and never have we lasted more than three days with her. Combined." They looked at each other as if they haven't made their point clear enough: "The twenty of us together couldn't last more than three days with the goddess, and Jupiter nailed her for a whole month until he, too, had every last drop of energy (and seed) drained his almighty balls." She shivers and stammers. "If he's son is just one-tenth of his father, he will still beat us in three days time, which is... which is…"

Drip. Drip. Drip…

I look at their pants and see that, yes, they're dripping.

Damn bitches, strongest cunts in the cosmos, are just as aroused and sexually defeated as we are!

For once, I stop feeling any of the reverence I have for them. I even feel spicy enough to reply after the goddess finishes her sentence: "...which is... which is... unbelievable!"

Then, I quip: "Oh, dear goddess!" I bow sarcastically before I say: "He will have you beat in no more than a day."

The Elites turn to us and, at long last, there's little love or kindness in their eyes. Like goddesses aggrieved, they look at us—at me!—like they're about to smite us for our insolence.

I avert my gaze and yelp. The Alpha, however, is both colder and more resolute than her companions. "We shall see." Before they venture into the chamber, they sate the last of their curiosity: "How tall is he?"

I answer it straight, whimpering a lot as if to make up for my insolence and heresy: "Fourteen feet and six inches."

There are groans and quivers amid the Elites. I hear a few teeth gritting, some pairs of thighs wobbling.

"Fuck..." The Alpha mutters, and then she asks further: "Weight?"

I gulp. "With his balls full of cum or…"

"Drained. Just his weight in pure muscle."

I gulp again. "Last measurement put him at 148,000 pounds."

"Inc... credible!"

"Yes."

"Body fat?"

"0.5%."

"Jesus…"

"Yep."

Silence. We all know the question that will follow, but it seems like no one, not even the Elites, have the strength to ask it.

"Cock?" The Alpha, of course, eventually does. "His length, that is?"

I can't hide my smile as I share the stats of his holiest attribute: "Our bull is four feet (or forty-eight inches) flaccid, and six feet (or seventy-two inches) hard."

There are gasps and whispers amid the Elites. "He is sooo much bigger than his dad!"

They're all quieted down by a brisk gesture of the Alpha's hand. "So be it." She gestures again, commanding us to "Open the doors. Now. It's time we see what Jupiter's son is made of."

I bow, we leave, and the doors open. The smell of semen infests the antechamber, enough to raise the hairs on the skins of even the Elites, who mutter: "B-by the... gods!"

Seconds later, they enter, and the girls and I start taking bets as he hurry back to an observation room (a much closer, if smaller one) to watch the SEXUAL CARNAGE that ensues!