For a mortal woman, the giant's relentless, spiked pounding would have been a death sentence. But Diana's clone possessed the Guardian's boundless endurance, taking the brutal, womb-wrecking thrusts for a full hour. The hotel bed was a disaster zone, soaked through with a mixture of her own slick arousal fluids, sweat, and copious amounts of breast milk that had sprayed all the way to the floor.
Finally, the giant reached his limit. He drove his massive cock to the hilt, the synthetic glans burying itself deep into her bruised, yielding uterus. A torrential flood of scalding alien semen erupted inside her, the sheer volume and pressure actually pushing the thick shaft slightly outward.
As he finally withdrew, the barbed ridges scraped painfully against her stretched, trembling flesh. Her vagina didn't snap back; it remained a gaping, pink cavern. A massive wave of viscous, steaming semen cascaded from her ruined cunt, dripping heavily onto the sheets. Due to the alien biology, the thick seed reacted with the air, quickly forming a semi-congealed film that blocked her vaginal opening, sealing the rest of the hot cream deep inside her belly.
Diana lay spread-eagled in a helpless 'M' shape, her lower half completely painted in alien filth. Her loose, overused pussy twitched, trying to contract, but the congealing semen held it open like a plug.
The giant had taken too long. The line of aliens in the hallway was growing violent with impatience. A Rota handler peered into the room, ignored the dazed, dripping clone, and simply waved the rest of the mob inside in batches.
Her vagina was temporarily out of commission, but to the intergalactic scum, her nipples, mouth, anus, and even her urethra were prime real estate. The men organized themselves by cock size. Two brutes hoisted her limp body into the air, while others swarmed her remaining holes.
The gangbang devolved into a viral spectacle. One alien live-streamed himself brutally fucking her breasts. He forced his cock into her dilated nipple ducts, the sheer friction and stretching transforming her perky, peach-like nipples into fat, gourd-shaped fuck-holes. Globs of milk and alien semen burst from the openings with every thrust.
Worse was the diminutive, fanged dog-alien that climbed onto her swollen belly. It aimed its thick, two-finger-wide cock directly at her urethra. It shoved the blunt head into her urinary tract, stretching the delicate tube to its tearing point. It couldn't reach her bladder, but the swollen shaft perfectly plugged the exit. The dog-alien grunted, piston-fucking her pee-hole while her bladder, already bursting from the constant production of orgasmic squirt, swelled into a hard, painful mound just above her pubic bone.
Time lost all meaning. By the time the final alien blew his load and the mob dispersed, the eve of the auction had arrived.
Diana's immortal clone lay in the ruins of the hotel room. She was intact, but utterly mindless. Her limbs were sprawled, her chest covered in reddish-purple friction burns, her nipples permanently stretched into gaping ovals leaking a mix of milk and cum. Every orifice she possessed was slowly oozing a rainbow cocktail of intergalactic semen. Her belly remained obscenely bloated, her uterus packed to the brim.
The Rota handlers returned, holding their noses. They grabbed her by her semen-crusted arms and threw her roughly into a bathtub, ignoring how her head drooped and her legs dangled. They turned on the water. As her face submerged, a few bubbles rose from her nostrils, her body twitching one last time before going still.
The Auction House
Sensing the clone's incapacitation, Diana's true consciousness snapped away, transferring instantly to the pre-processed clones waiting in the auction house's holding bays.
The galactic flesh market was a marvel of ancient architecture mixed with hyper-advanced tech. A massive, circular auction platform sat in the center, surrounded by tiered VIP boxes floating in anti-gravity. The most powerful warlords, CEOs, and syndicate bosses of the universe occupied those rooms, while billions of lesser buyers watched the holographic streams online, sparing themselves the risk of transporting high-value slaves through pirate territory.
The event was a three-day festival of depravity. Because Diana was the marquee item—the "Galactic-Level Guardian"—her main body and premium clones wouldn't be paraded until the climax of the second day.
For now, the Rota were relegated to the backstage viewing screens. Diana peered through the eyes of her conscious clone, watching the first block of the slave auction begin.
"Behold, stock from Planet E!" the auctioneer's voice boomed. "These sex slaves have undergone Level 3 training and brainwashing. Self-awareness has been scrubbed. They operate purely on command. Note: their heat cycles are 80 cosmic days apart and last for 25 days. Do not use them outside of their heat cycles without nutrient vats! Bidding for Batch 1 starts now!"
A line of humanoid women with long, prehensile hair-tendrils was led onto the stage. By Earth standards, they were gorgeous, but their eyes were dead.
Diana watched with morbid fascination, quickly deducing the grading system of the galactic slave trade.
Sex slaves were categorized by their heat cycles—only the rarest, untamed beasts could be fucked continuously without dying. The brainwashing levels dictated their price and function.
* Unbrainwashed: Kept in heavy cages, their faces twisted in futile rage or despair. Highly prized by sadists.
* Level 1: The lightest touch. They retained expressions and basic desires. Those currently in heat were visibly squirming on stage, clenching their thighs and desperately masturbating in front of the crowd.
* Level 2 & 3: Completely broken. They stood calm and motionless, dolls waiting to be used.
* Level 4: The absolute extreme. Reserved for the most powerful buyers, these slaves had their limbs amputated or their bodies heavily modified, reduced to nothing more than living, breathing sex toys with no agency whatsoever.
The VIP boxes remained dark, their occupants waiting for the real prizes. The Rota attempted to bid on a few exotic species but were quickly out-priced. Because Diana had forced them to send their human cargo back to Earth, the Rota had nothing to sell today.
It was a quiet first day... but Diana knew tomorrow, she would be the one on the block.
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