In the year 2370, Varla Vix was one of the most popular sex entertainers in the galaxy. She was beautiful, had apparently no limits sexually, and more men had flung rope watching her on-screen than just about any other woman in the known universe. But at the same time, Varla was shrewd, ambitious, and intelligent. After years of dancing, porn stardom, and every other kind of live XXX "performance art", she hung her stilettos up and launched her own sex club.
'The Vixen' sex club was one of the most reputable clubs in the galaxy. Being female-run, it had a certain luster and sense of security for the girls who flocked to work there. Membership was heavily sought after for the males too, since she was quite stingy with the men she allowed entry, screening for only the most attractive, well-behaved, and well-endowed men.
Things had been going well for Varla and her club for a while. They were in a good location, and trans-galactic criminal gangs stayed largely away. The only real friction she had was the occasional tantrum from a female performer, a male guest getting tossed out, and of course some civil competition from the other legitimate sex clubs; i.e. competing for talent, poaching girls, etc.
Varla had a meeting scheduled at her club with Boris Nagus. Boris owned the Wet Diamond, another fairly reputable sex club, well known for throwing legendary orgies. It was admittedly trashier than the Vixen, but still popular and in good standing with galactic authorities. Boris had contacted her about a "business proposal" he believed would be lucrative to both their clubs, but insisted he had to show her, and refused to elaborate over the phone. She agreed to meet with him mostly out of curiosity.
It was a typical night, and by "typical" I mean packed to capacity with unbelievably attractive, horny, barely clothed revelers. They were mingling, coupling up in pairs, threesomes, and large groups, indulging in hardcore carnal festivities anywhere they could find a spot. The music was pumping, and nude dancers gyrated on stages, on elevated platforms, and in hanging cages. It was pure, naked debauchery - yet still somehow classy - and surprisingly clean for a no-holes-barred sex den.
Varla greeted Boris and they sat down together. He looked around impressed.
"Pretty good for a Wednesday night, Varla." He said, as a nearby male bust a gushing nut onto his lovely partner's bare tits.
"Wall-to-wall, around-the-clock sex. That's the idea, and that's where the money is." She replied coolly."
"Agreed." He said, still looking around like a kid in a candy store.
Varla got to the point. "So are you going to tell me why you wanted this meeting? If it's about poaching my girls, you can stop right there. I employ the most beautiful women in the galaxy, and they want to work for me, a woman who's been in their platform heels. They don't want some man bossing them around, mismanaging their talent, and taking their beauty for granted."
"That's not it, I can assure you." Boris said in a calming tone.
There was another man who came in with Boris. He was tall, attractive and amazingly well built, covered only in a loincloth. He stood there still and quiet between the two where they sat. Varla smiled when she saw him.
"Who's this handsome man? I'd offer him a seat, but it looks like he'd do well out on the floor. Did you bring him to party?"
She placed her hand gently on his back, then pulled it away. 'Oh my God.' She thought. His back was a wall of rigid muscle. He really was a specimen. Varla looked him over, admiring him.
"He's gorgeous. I hope he gets "acquainted" with one of our girls before the night's over."
The quiet male turned to her and said with minimal emotion "Thank you, ma'am."
Varla smirked. That was about as much personality as she'd expect from a man that beautiful.
"He's part of this negotiation." Boris said. "Just listen, I'll tell you more."
Varla leaned back in her chair and listened to Boris' pitch:
"As you know, there's been lots of experimentation with female replicants. Some believe they'll take the industry to the next level if the product is perfected."
Varla rolled her eyes. "Ugh, don't remind me. Such a stupid idea. Even when they get a good one, she's fun to look at, but always malfunctioning. They always go on the fritz! Their heads explode mid-orgasm, or their tits spring a leak. They're high maintenance, and messy!"
Boris calmed her down. "I'm not talking about that. I'm not interested in overpriced sex dolls."
"So why bring up replicants?" Varla implored.
"There's an angle everyone's been missing until now: Men."
"Men??" Varla shot back. "Who would want a male replicant?"
"You seem quite enamored with this one." Boris replied with a smirk.
Varla's jaw dropped as she realized that handsome muscle-bound stallion she'd been admiring was a replicant.
"He... HE'S a replicant??" She thumbed the chain of her necklace nervously.
"Look for yourself." Boris invited her.
Varla gently furled his loincloth to the side and exposed an absolutely mammoth cock. It hung there like an elephant trunk, dangling halfway down his quads.
"Oh SHIT!" She blurted out. Her jaw nearly hit the floor and she covered her mouth. She sat for a moment staring at it with stars in her eyes.
"Yes! His every detail is identical to a real human, except of course for the bar codes etched onto his DNA. Imagine what he could do out on that floor with your girls. Imagine the audience it would draw from the voyeur crowd. Now imagine a whole fleet of them. The looks, the superhuman stamina... Your girls, the most beautiful women in the galaxy, under hot lights getting fucked on stage by these magnificent things."
Varla was still hypnotized by his gigantic love slab and had to shake it off.
Boris kept the pitch going. "And the porn you could make with them... No more flimsy male actors who can't perform. No more missed money shots. Raw, hard male talent always ready to work on command."
