The Catgirl's dilated pupils stared blankly at the ceiling. As the Level 4 serum flooded her neck, a thin trickle of blood leaked from her nose, and her ferocious struggling ceased instantly. The sharp, predatory claws on her hands and feet sloughed off, replaced by blunt, harmless nubs. Her jaw went completely slack, hanging open to invite effortless throat-fucking, while her lethal fangs rounded into smooth ridges. She was now a living, breathing sex toy—completely paralyzed, yet her mind remained horribly, exquisitely active, trapped in a body that would only ever feel the brutal use of her new master.
Time dragged on. Bankrupt heiresses, conquered warlords, and exotic beauties were dragged onto the block, all reduced to barcode-stamped meat. Sitting in the audience, Diana's "Free Trial" clone was drenched in her own sweat and arousal. Watching the mind-broken slaves masturbating uncontrollably on stage pushed her over the edge. Hidden in the dim light of the auditorium, she slid her fingers into her own ruined, dripping cunt, vigorously stirring the mixed alien semen still trapped inside her as she waited for the main event.
Finally, the lights dimmed.
"Distinguished guests," the auctioneer's voice boomed, trembling with genuine awe. "This next lot is not just rare; it is a galactic anomaly. Many of you have heard the myths. A Galaxy-Level Powerhouse—an entity capable of cracking planets and ruling star systems. There are fewer than a hundred registered in the Cosmic Federation. They are gods."
The holographic sea of stars shimmered behind the stage. Five pedestals rose from the floor, each bearing a breathtaking, naked replica of the Earth Guardian.
"If she wished, she could tear this Star Ring apart like wet paper," the auctioneer shouted over the deafening roar of the crowd. "But do not panic! She has willingly submitted her flesh to the market. Behold, five specialized avatars of the Goddess!"
The bidding screens lit up with the catalog descriptions, each one heavily detailed by the Rota technicians:
* Clone #1: The Eternal Estrus. Usage period: 3 years. Her biology has been permanently locked into a state of hyper-arousal and heat. She possesses divine regeneration, but Warning: When not in active use, she must be kept in a medically induced coma. If left awake, the sheer volume of vaginal fluid and squirt she spontaneously ejects will exceed her body's regenerative capabilities, and she will literally die of dehydration from endless orgasms.
* Clone #2: The Living Flesh-Suit. Usage period: 4 years. This body has been hollowed out. Her internal organs and skeleton are compressed, leaving a skin-like sleeve. The buyer opens her from the spine and steps inside. The clone will autonomously wrap around the wearer, sealing them in divine flesh. You will become Diana, controlling her body while she acts as your second skin. Warning: Her sensory nerves are 12 times more sensitive than a normal mortal's. The wearer will feel everything the suit feels. Ensure your cardiovascular system can withstand brain-melting pleasure.
* Clone #3: The Broodmother. Usage period: 1 year. Her divine ovaries have been surgically implanted with SDF-03 parasites. She will autonomously gestate and birth 10 to 15 alien larvae every two days from her vaginal and anal tracts. The worms feed on her magic, making their secretions a highly sought-after beauty serum.
* Clone #4: The Modular Doll. Usage period: Indefinite. Self-awareness has been surgically scrubbed. She reacts purely on physiological reflexes—moaning, gripping, and climaxing upon penetration. Her limbs have been modified with synthetic joints; arms and legs can be popped off and reattached at the buyer's convenience for torso-only use.
* Clone #5: The Authentic Masochist. Usage period: Dependent on the buyer. Unmodified. Fully conscious. She possesses the authentic durability of a Galaxy-Level being and is fully aware of her surroundings. Note: She demands the most brutal, lethal torture your species can invent. If you manage to satisfy her depravity, she will serve you willingly.
The auction hall descended into absolute madness. Warlords screamed bids that could buy entire solar systems. The moment the gavels fell, the impatient VIPs didn't even wait for transport; they began using the clones right there in their luxury boxes.
Sitting in the lower auditorium, Diana was hit by the psychic feedback.
SLAM. Five different streams of extreme, mind-shattering violation flooded her brain at once. She gasped, her back arching so hard her spine popped.
Just then, her encrypted Rota comms beeped. Another auction branch was selling a newly discovered asteroid base in the Y-58 system—the abandoned headquarters of the Dark Legion. Trembling, Diana quickly funneled a fraction of her massive new wealth to buy the base outright, her mind already fantasizing about the biotechnology secrets left behind by her favorite monsters.
But the victory was overshadowed by the sensory overload.
In VIP Box 2, a buyer had stepped into her Flesh-Suit clone. Diana felt the horrifying, suffocating stretch of an alien body pushing into her hollowed-out skin, alien fingers rubbing against the inside of her actual heart and brain. In Box 1, she felt the endless, violent squirt of the Estrus clone. In Box 3, the wriggling of thick larvae hatching in her ovaries sent phantom cramps through her gut.
Diana couldn't function. She sat upright in her chair, paralyzed. Her vulva gaped open involuntarily, a torrential flood of clear fluid gushing out and forming a literal puddle around her high heels. She let out a continuous, unbroken moan, her hands gripping her own breasts tightly as thick, hot milk sprayed through her fingers and soaked her lap.
The overload was too much. The sensation of her internal organs being worn, pounded, and bred all at once was frying her synapses. After hours of convulsing like a broken toy in the dark theater, her consciousness began to fade.
Desperate, she violently severed the psychic tether.
The connection snapped. The five clones were abandoned to their buyers, becoming mindless, autonomous dolls. Diana's consciousness fled across the station, slamming safely back into her Main Body—the original Guardian, floating peacefully in the light blue fluid of the petri dish backstage. She breathed a sigh of relief through her oxygen mask, ready for the final day of the auction.
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