Nick Ranye disembarked from the large municipal dust-hopper transit along with about two hundred other members of the population on the planet that had come in from the surrounding countryside. He'd landed in the camouflaged hanger in the desert a couple of days before, smuggled in by a pair of off-worlders called Aeshey and Lynx. They'd been as good as their word and brought him down from the docking station in orbit above the planet and hadn't attempted to double-cross him, which was wise. He'd been circumspect, said his goodbyes, and hitched to a local agricultural conurbation a few miles from where they were based, before criss-crossing his way to the hive-city across the planet using an unobtrusive a route as possible. He was confident that he hadn't been followed, confident that he had so far avoided detection, and satisfied as far as he could be that no-one knew he was on the planet. The interplanetary blockade was holding up and he'd slipped through the net. Now for the hard part.

As he set feet on the plasteel gantry he stumbled slightly as his body readjusted to the different environment. People streamed by him, not noticing. That was good. He needed to blend in. Quickly he stepped into the flow of people and made his way towards the city.

Mainly though it was his head. It seemed to throb and pulse. This in itself wasn't particularly surprising. It was full. Full of information. He suspected that if he tilted his head a little too far left or right something would spill out of it like a vase full of water. He felt constantly dehydrated. The rigours of the journey hadn't allowed him to maintain his body as effectively as he ought to have been.

But his head...

Rayne was a courier. A smuggler really. The definition depended on who he talking to at the time. He rented out space in his brain to carry information. The information was uploaded into his brain at one point and he travelled to where it was needed, whereupon it was downloaded. Sometime this took him across the street, sometimes it took him across galaxies. It rarely took him anywhere that wasn't extremely dangerous. Darvon wasn't dangerous to him at present, but it could turn that way in an instant if he didn't watch his step. He knew what was at stake here, even if he didn't have the most precise notion of what was actually in his head.

Apparently it had once been thought that humankind only used about ten percent of their brains. Then that was debunked as a myth. But the scientists that had come closest of all to making consciousness uploadable and downloadable made some remarkable discoveries before they were all assassinated by the remarkably efficient, not to mention alarmingly brutal sect of the 'Wards of the Human Spirit'. Since then most scientists were too spooked to attract the ire of the cabal of (it was rumoured) supernatural assassins pledged to defend the secrets of the soul from those that would violate its mystery and sanctity. One straightforward application that the experiments had yielded, however, before the scientists had been despatched in remarkably violent ways, was that the brain itself could be altered to facilitate the storage of information. Vast quantities of information. Undetectably.

This was a development that had added a whole new dimension the universe of espionage, be it governmental, planetary, industrial, whatever. Rayne had been in on that game for over ten years. He'd carried the codes to disable the stealth shields of the Imperial Palace on K'th''n'argh'th'throg, which had led to the deposition of the terrifying At'at'rth'ngh'th'ngh regime. He'd taken the entire archive of the library of the lost civilization of Utoropia and uploaded it to the memory banks of the Crucible of the Amazing Repository. He alone had been the conduit for the leak of the confidential intergalactic tax haven Panamananarama that had toppled governments across whole galactic sectors. He didn't get much credit for these feats, but he did have a lot of satisfaction in his work.

In this instance it was fairly routine. Darvon was ruled by elites that liked things the way they were. But they were only big fish in a small solar system. There were a huge cartel of intergalactic institutions that wanted Darvon opened up for trade. You couldn't necessarily support a coup from offworld, even if it was for freedom and emancipation, but you could give insurrectionary forces a bit of a nudge. Presumably, that was what was in his head. A bit of a nudge.

So far, Darvon was a dump. It was a provincial backwater in the ass end of space that was generations behind the technology in most other areas of the galaxy. Travelling through the purple-tinged fields and the countryside, Rayne had been genuinely shocked at some of the archaic practices he'd glimpsed that passed for agriculture here. It felt good to set his feet down on plasteel and be back in a real city. And it was a real hive city, much like on other worlds, although a primitive one. There were only about three hundred million people in this one.

So it wouldn't be asking too much for him to find the one he was looking for.

X

After a while the whole of the exercise area in Aeshey and Lynx's desert bolt-hole was getting to be a bit of a write-off, since both Gina and Lynx has teamed up in some style to coax a seemingly limitless supply of cum from the pair of cocksmiths and had spent the afternoon and more fucking their brains out. Cum was plastered everywhere in the room, floor, ceiling, walls and exercise equipment, and each of the four sexual athletes had long been covered in glistening sheen of sweat from their exertions, with the two sluts decorated in a hefty amount of cum. Aeshey and Lynx had paired up and were reduced through their exhaustion to nuzzling, provided that the definition of nuzzling extended to the gorgeous slut on her knees in front of him with her sucking lips mashed pliantly against his balls while the trunk of his fat cock rested on her face and projected over her head, the rest sticking up in the air.

Gina and Lucian were in an identical posture, except they were actually having a conversation and planning their next move.

'So what's next?' said Lucian to the gorgeous, monsterboobed spy as she sucked his cock.

Gina slipped her mouth of his drooling meatstick with a pop. She looked as if she were about to say something but instead ejected an operatic belch.

'Excuse me,' said Gina, regaining her composure, 'I've just swallowed quite a lot of cum.'

Lucian laughed, jacked his pc muscle vigorously, and got enough force in the movement to get it to smack down on Gina's face, which it contacted with a wet thwacking sound, 'come on Gina, what's next?'

'More anal?' said Gina mischievously.

'You know what I mean, Gina.'

'Well now I gotta get to the hive city, stud. Should be easy enough. And then I find our man.'

'Mind if I tag along?' said Lucian.

'If by "tag along" you mean relentlessly pound me with your amazing monstercock every chance you get, sure.'

Gina smacked the stud's cock against her cheek a few times to emphasise her comment. In response, Lucian's penis ejected a thick, transparent plume of precum that jetted though the air, launched over Gina's head, and landed on Lynx's gleaming, peachy asscheeks.

Lynx turned around to face them, Aeshey's cock bulging her cheek. She mumbled something.

'What did she say?' asked Lucian.

Aeshey volunteered, 'she said don't leave without checking the feeds from our security camera over the last couple of weeks. We've helped a few people down to the surface recently. Could be you're looking for one of the.'

Lynx popped the brawny, veined megacock out of her mouth with a slurping pop, and pressed down on the thick fuck piston so that it bounced up and down between the stud's thighs.

'I assure you I didn't say that. I said don't leave without putting that beautiful juicy cock up my tight little asshole again!'

X

On the outskirts of the Hive City, Rayne stopped for a while to survey his options. The city stretched out above and in front of him. The place was dominated by a profusion of immense towers that went up as high as he could see and then kept going. At the top of those towers, he'd been warned, were the Heliots -- the various clans of Grand families that claimed fiefdom over the towers and the surrounding area. He laughed at the medieval simplicity of it. The Godlike elites at the top of the towers and innumerable masses swarming around below. Since what was in his head represented an existential threat to the Heliots, he hoped he wouldn't be running into them too close. All he needed to do was to find the rebel elements, download the contents of his head to them -- it didn't matter what it was -- and then he could skip off this damn ball before things got hot. After that it was time for a holiday.

But he had better be prepared. He closed his eyes and activated his Roids.

Augmentations to his body that had been dormant for couple of days stirred into life. It was unnoticeable from the exterior, but something that improved his basic capacities far beyond the bounds of normal men. Roids itself was a byword for a plethora of improvements that had been made to his physique and biology. In fact it was a trimmed down portmanteau that stood for both Steroid and Android. He was part biologically improved and part synthetically enhanced. With the Roids engaged he was easily the equal of any human that had ever lived in terms of strength and stamina. He could make the muscles of his neck into steel-hard cords that would make anyone trying to strangle him be in for a real long session. He could leap six feet straight up from a standing start. He couldn't quite crush plasteel in his hands but he could give it a fairly impressive dent. He'd also been biologically and anatomically improved in less conventional ways.

All of his augmentations were military grade, except for one. It had been a present to him by the galactically-renowned augmentist Velicia Vonweh, for whom he'd once done some fairly low-key espionage. He'd been gracious enough to waive a fee and she had rewarded him with a once in a lifetime opportunity for someone that wasn't a liquid-credit billionaire -- to perform a custom augmentation of his choosing. Not that it took a psychic to guess where exactly he would want it applied, since Velicia was something of a genius in the 'enlargement' department.

As you might expect, Velicia herself was not so very hard to look at and really spectacularly glamorous. Added to this she was a notorious size queen of some repute. Every time Rayne had met her she was collectively wearing less clothes than you could make into the size of a handkerchief and perched on ridiculously tall heels. Velicia's hugely inflated tits and taut, rippling physique were absolutely breathtaking, the amazingly statuesque augmeticist smiling voraciously when Rayne put in his request for one of her patented, state-of-the-art penile improvement procedures. Her office was awash with printouts, models, displays and other such paraphernalia that all in some way represented hulking, huge images of the make organ.

'Well well...' said Velicia, 'you're certainly bold... I may even break my record for you. Ordinarily I might balk if just anyone asked me for these measurements...'

'But since this is a favour for a friend?'

'I might be persuaded,' said Velicia, 'provided you are able to... fully... demonstrate how it works afterwards...' Her eyes gleamed naughtily.

Rayne's prospects had received a further unexpected boost when one of Velicia's nurses, a stunning black-haired beauty, had developed a keen interest in Rayne's procedure, and had secretly taken it upon herself to add some more dimensions to the initial plan. So between Velicia's designated enormous measurements and the horny nurse's own secret enhancements to that same planned operation, Rayne ended up with some seriously, seriously, seriously huge equipment. Thanks to nanotechnology and other improvements in medicine, most surgery at a high income bracket was barely invasive, and the procedure had been completed in the blink of an eye in Velicia's laboratory.

The nurse's transgressions were detected and she was punished with having to clean the lab after the three-way fucking session that had taken place afterwards and Rayne's spunk had been distributed wildly over all the equipment. Velicia, after getting up close and personal with the absolute behemoth she had created first hand, decided it wasn't worth apologising for jacking up Rayne's penile enhancement to a larger size than had been originally agreed, and her distended asshole had been so comprehensively demolished by Rayne's enormous dick that she couldn't so much as wink him goodbye with it as he departed her surgery. It was a quid pro quo, but Rayne noted with some satisfaction that Velicia had sent him a couple of messages asking when he was next in the area. After this mission maybe he would suggest a little holiday to a hot moon, just the two of them. That was if the nurse didn't stow away on the ship.

Rayne opened his eyes again, feeling the internal flaring inside his body of the Roids slipping into gear, breaking the reverie of his tryst with the sexpot augmeticist and her slutty nurse. His dick was currently hanging down past his right knee. He smiled.

As he looked up, he saw something that made him start with surprise.

Suspended over the bypass where he was walking was an enormous advertising hoarding. Something of a relic, it was a pseudo-holographic projection about two hundred by one hundred and fifty feet square, roughly the type that had been outlawed galactically about a century ago for making unusually harsh demands on the retina (health and safety was a large and lucrative galactic industry).

The advertising hologram features a gigantic graphic of a titanically jugged woman, an archetypal tits-on-a-stick knockout with black hair gazing lustfully out with her hands held outwards horizontally at her sides. Laying on each of her slender, artfully tattooed arms, were two humongous schlongs that rivalled her arms for both length and girth, each of the fat heads coming to rest over her biceps. A running strapline along the bottom read: 'Tonight!!! Holo-Vee Forty-seven!!! Horny Slut Kittykat Lust takes Maxxx Jaxxxon and Bomber Boomboy in every hole!!! Don't miss!!! Shown live from the Whoreslut arena!!!'

Rayne was impressed. So this was what the hive city on Darvon was like. Wall to wall filth. Perhaps this job wasn't going to be boring after all.

Rayne smiled and looked away from the massive screen and the equally massive slut dominating it. As much as he enjoyed looking at her, he needed to make contact with the local rebels and he wasn't really in the mood to shred another pair of trousers just yet. Instead, he kept moving, letting the energy soar throughout his body as his enhancements continued to stir back to life. The stiffness was still there, serving as a sort of physical background noise as he moved, and would take more than just a nice meal and a good night's sleep to get rid of.

As Rayne switched from walking along the byway to instead follow along the side of a sixteen-file superhighway sunken into the ground and leading off towards the heart of the hive city, the absurdity of the situation really struck him. Darvon might have been a dump, but he was there and about to enter a hive city -- on foot, no less -- while right next to him autonomous road trains rolled past on their way into the city. Each big, great behemoth -- rolling along on at least a dozen pairs of wheels as tall as Rayne -- had a decal on the front of their windowless cabins and on their sides, like heraldic marks, and were painted in recurring schemes, perhaps a dozen in all. Spread in amongst them were normal passenger cars going along at a steady and uniform pace, suggesting that they were on auto-pilot as well, which in turn explained how a 200-foot Kittykat Lust could be suspended above them without half of them crashing into each other.

Meanwhile, Rayne remained far from alone in walking on the wide, poorly patched up stretch pavement directly adjacent to the far wider road, as people surrounded him on all sides, all of them trundling along towards the city. When he glanced around, he could see signs of the sharply hierarchical nature of Darvon society, and not just because a substantial portion of the wandering masses were dressed in little more than rags. More telling were the many who wore signs of old injuries that could easily be healed with normal medical technology. Rayne was accustomed to the loss of an eye or a finger being an easy thing to rectify through lab grown replacements, but the man currently next to him was sporting a patch over his left eye, and in front of a young woman in a dirty dress was clutching a cloth bag with a hand that was missing its pinkie and ring finger.

The foot journey went on for another hour, and brought Rayne into the city and into the shadows cast by the huge towers stretching their way into the skies. Stopping close to where the superhighway dipped into a tunnel that would allow the road trains to deliver their cargo directly to the towers' subterranean levels, Rayne stepped out of the stream of pedestrians and walked up to the wall of the first big transit hub that he'd encountered. As the sound of the elevated trains up above mixed with those of the subway trains below and they were both mixed in with the steady tapping of feet and the cars and trucks going past.

For the last fifteen minutes, the crowd walking into the hive city had slowly been shrinking as they passed several points where armed, uniformed guards and bright young men and women in expensive clothing were stationed by large hoverjets that mirrored the trucks in their paint schemes and markings. At each station, dozens would leave the stream of pedestrians and step up to join the line of people leading up to the ostentatiously well-dressed functionaries. At the front of the line, each would be questioned and checked with hand-held bioreaders, and either be allowed onto the hoverjets or be sent off to rejoin the crowd with a dejected look upon their face.

Closing his eyes again, Rayne slowly turned his first right, then left. Taking the form of a small bump -- barely thick enough to be felt with one's fingertip, the size of a small birthmark and just a shade darker than the surrounding skin -- was a biological compass, another of the enhancements that he'd undergone. As it activated, it began sending out soft pulses down his spine, becoming stronger as it located Darvon's magnetic north pole, then stronger still as it guided Rayne until he was looking north. Good, now he knew which way he should be facing, and all that he needed to do next was to make sure that he could be spotted.

Walking round the back of the transit hub -- which had its second, third and fourth storey walls covered with a row of holoscreens pumping out commercials to compete with the bigger ones that flickered against the sides of the towers -- Rayne found that the crowd thinned out substantially as he came upon a small square next to a large and largely abandoned parking lot.

The square was little more than a flat, open stretch of concrete dominated by a plinth in the centre from which another pseudo-holographic projection rose up, and although this one was a more modest twenty feet in height, it too was depicting a huge-titted, sexy woman. Her looks, especially her face with its high cheekbones, narrow eyes and plump lips collaborating to produce an expression of raw, scorching lust and which was framed by straight strands of hair so pale as to be almost white, made it so abundantly clear that she was a complete and total slut that the patchwork of cum-ropes on, around and beneath her round, perfect tits as they protruded out far from the rest of her lithe, toned body almost seemed unnecessary. Apart from the jizz mesh top, the woman was wearing precious little, just a gold belly chain encircling her teeny waist and a pair of transparent platform sandals with their stiletto heels facing each other as she stood fixed in a proud stance that involved her chest being thrust out even further than normal and her dainty hands resting on her wide hips.