Tower Of Babylon Coralie

On the final day of the marathon, the grand finale was scheduled in a decrepit soccer stadium in the heart of the Buffer's old city center.

Overhead, dirigibles with sponsor logos flashing along their sides were accompanied by camera drones like whale sharks and their pilot fish.

Many of the performers had already dropped out for health reasons while the star of the show Coralie Cain somehow still seemed somewhat fresh despite the ordeal. She was recuperating in the production van, getting patched up for the final round. Yates checked the medical monitor as fluids were pumped into the starlet's veins. The med-tech pushed him aside in the cramped quarters to apply salve to a performer crashed out on the air-futon.

The other two remaining marathon girls sat at the consoles, arms with injection braces giving them their own courses of medication and IV fluids. It was packed inside the van. Normally, Yates would be excited to have a tit pressed against his face but even he was burned out after days of manning the camera remotes. He was stimmed up so high that his eyes were practically glued open, so he had a spray mister to keep them from drying out.

They still stung like crazy. He mumbled, practically to himself, "Thanks, Matt, for ditching us right in the middle of the show and we were already under-staffed for this gig. Fucker took Okano with him too."

Even though it was a rest break, Coralie was giving a live remote interview while the med-tech sealed up the cuts on her inner thighs and checked for internal injuries. A camera stalk with its pin light was aimed at her face as she responded to questions, "Yes, I'm ready to go for tonight's live show. No, I am not tired of dick. Bring it on!" She gamely stuck out a tongue. "I know someone's been keeping a liter count on swallows so I am excited to get the world record later today."

The return audio wasn't being fed into the van except for Coralie's subdermal ear monitor so the slightly crazed look in her eyes and her babbling into the air made it seem like she was a schizophrenic. It didn't help the image with the med-tech probing her genitals with her scan tool.

"Such as it is, she's clear to go," the med-tech shook her head, clearly surprised by the result. "I don't know how there is any lining left in there and no perforations in the colon. That last girl wasn't so lucky."

One of the previous rounds had including a series of rough insertion challenges.

Yates looked at the countdown clock and took another shot of stimulant. His heart somehow didn't shatter though he had to brace himself for a moment. Once the remote interview ended, he shifted back to Coralie who closed her eyes for a moment, "Five minutes till showtime folks. Ready to rally?" He held out a fist.

Coralie shivered for a moment and extended her own fist to give him a bump. "Fuck ya. Gal's, time to get going."

The others groaned but began disconnecting themselves from their braces while the girl on the futon tried to wave away the world. Eventually, she got up as well, to join the impromptu huddle, with Coralie as quarterback.

She gave them some meaningless pep talk and blurted, "I don't know why the fuck we're doing all this but let's get out there and fuck this planet!"

They gave a half-hearted cheer and high-stepped out of the van in a line of jazzed up skin walkers ready to get jizzed on and jacked up. As soon as she stepped outside it was as if a switch was turned on Coralie's face. The charisma that made her a star was back in an instant, and even her eyes seemed to glint with carnal glee as she eyed the throng of humanity waiting to tear her flesh apart.

There was a cheer from the crowd as the four made a line to go down the main ramp into the stadium. It wasn't quite to full capacity as many of the upper decks were dilapidated and closed off but it was still a sizable group, dominated by horny men with a smattering of mixed genders of all stripes. The spectacle was officially frowned upon by the Protectorate but the show was a licensed deal with private security forces to keep it from turning into a full fledged riot.

Coralie could feel the combined lust throbbing through her in time with the stomp of the crowd's feet as she led the women toward the mob. Goons with shock wands parted the way into the stadium so the women could reach a central stage. The original sports display system was long gone so drones with silken display curtains were used to float up a moving wall of images throwing up camera close-ups and replay action as well as advertisements and commentary from various feeds.

The arena was pumped with music provided by a series of curated DJ's piping in their jams over the net. Their performances were a separate revenue stream being livecast worldwide for the event. For the more puritan markets, the raw sex would be censored out.

She felt flushed, even excited again, although she wasn't sure if it that was herself or the chemical cocktail. Did it matter? She wondered. On stage, there was some washed up third-rate talking head acting as carnival barker, working the crowd as the girls piled up for a lesbian show appetizer. It wasn't something she hadn't done a thousand times before, but Coralie put her all into the performance, focusing her attention on pleasing the pink flower in front of her as they formed a circle, head to ass.

She made sure to keep an eye on where the various camera drones hovered, moving her head and positioning the next girl in line for a good shot.

If it wouldn't have made her look like some lizard, she would even have rotated an eye to keep track of the displays to make sure her shot was still good but she had to just trust that Yates and crew were doing their jobs properly. The girl behind her managed to push the right button, and Coralie jerked her hips to a quick orgasm.

There wasn't much else in the script, as they would be at the mercy of the crowd after this. The only rules were a hard cut-off the next morning or if the overnight ratings dipped too low to make it profitable, as well as any life threatening injuries. The security goons had approved tranq rounds to wind it all down if things got too far out of hand.

Yates spoke to her via her subdurmal, "Numbers look good. Supper crowd just sitting down for their meal of hot, re-moisturized stew and flash lager. Go get 'em,hot stuff."

Licking her finger after slipping it out of one of the others, Coralie scanned the throng before her. It was a single beast that wanted to consume her. She guessed that it didn't matter if it did, either way her nipples were rock hard in anticipation once again. She called them old reliable, flicked them with two hands for good luck and leapt head first into the first row who reached out and lifted her bodily.

The hands were everywhere yet gentle at first, although occasionally one stabbed at her rectum or pinched her flesh. She was afloat on a sea of humanity and it was almost peaceful except for the roar of the crowd as each of the others joined in body surfing. Adrenaline rushed through her, and the totality of sensation was overwhelming. She jerked as she orgasmed again and the collective beast roared in response, its lust piqued. They set her down, almost gently, and she walked as if in a dream in the press of bodies as they danced to the rhythmic music. She actually bumped into another woman and it wasn't even a performer but some random exhibitionist who had bought into the event.

In a moment, the other woman was washed away like a swimmer in a roiling ocean. More hands dug at her, and she arched her back as someone two-fingered her into another shivering climax. One of her notable skills was her chain orgasms which she was well known for in her shows, so the people in the crowd already knew how to time their ministrations to make her dance to their whim. A hand went into her mouth and she gobbled it as others toyed with her below in succession.

The chain lasted for so long she lost track of where she was, hoping she still looked good for the cameras buzzing overhead. She was a throbbing, drooling mess. After a while, she found herself across the pitch where mattresses and cushions had been tossed around and she was taken on hands and knees surrounded by a forest of cock. She was quickly drenched as she took load after load in all her holes, face, ears, and eyes.

Inside the van, Yates hunched over the controls, two hands manning the remote triggers as he frenetically followed the porn star with the drone cameras. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he swore he'd quit and find a new line of work. He was working the biggest camera swarm of his career, switching pre-programmed waypoints and focus shots on the fly like a magician. There were multiple pre-paid streaming channels they had signed on for him to support exclusively as well as two different docu-drama companies who had requested exclusive high resolution footage that had to be blocked out from the main feeds.

If he had to watch another slo-mo macro shot of cum hitting Coralie's cornea, he was going to puke into the bucket he'd setup next to his chair. He couldn't even take a piss break so he had a urine bag rigged up for the event.

Back on the field, there was no way for her to keep track of the times someone wiped her down only for another round of white ropes shot across her bow. It was an unending cannonade of ejaculate. She had already grown inured to the smell and taste over the endless week, but this was an even greater deluge and she almost joked to herself that it was a waste not to collect it for a bath.

She burped as another round was shot into her mouth. Later, she was hip to hip with at least one of the other performers as they were being double-teamed. Coralie licked the cum out of the other girl's eye who shouted hoarsely through the din, "Thanks! Have you seen the others?"

Coralie shook her head. Even with the clusters of non-pro women working the crowd, they were needles in a haystack at that point. Things tended to go in waves though, as one group was satiated only to be replaced by a fresh mob who manhandled them into position. Some were quick, others long, sometimes being thrown off by impatient supplicants. Security had to break up a few fights but it wasn't too bad.

She lost track of the time when the energy of the crowd died down for the first of several times. Coralie was riding reverse cowgirl, her back on the chest of the man under her as a second man was on top. He peeled away to find another target so she had a moment to look up at the circling blimps and flashing lights. She rode the dick almost absently as she watched herself on the floating display, the camera tracked to a closeup of their mated crotch and she made sure to time the rhythm of their fucking to the current song blaring into the stadium.

After he pulsed his shot into her, he rolled her off and scurried away from the lights leaving her alone for a moment on the sodden field amidst the detritus of the madcap orgy. It was littered with emptied drinks, bits of clothes, branded wipes supplied from a sponsor, and loose trash as well as passed out individuals overcome by whatever their choice of intoxicant or just exhaustion. One of them roused himself and crawled on top of her, prodded her a bit with a half-flaccid penis and fell asleep again.

He was unceremoniously tossed off by a security goon. So Coralie laid there, legs splayed in a tableaux of smoke, haze, and swirling humanity for a long moment as the cameras buzzed around her. She almost closed her eyes...almost.

Suddenly energized once again, she hopped up, took a towel from the goon's pack and wiped herself down. With one hand flicking her own nipple and another on her crotch, she trolled the clumps of fornicating and drugged out people for more ready masts to mount. She pulled away someone who was busy humping some random fan girl and stuffed his cock into her mouth to prep it, and then climbed up for a standing fuck.

He seemed dazed, not recognizing her for a moment.

"Oh, Coralie. Hey, you know we did it three times already. We should go out."

She just stared at him blankly, "Have you fisted me yet?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, get both hands in me and I'll think about it. But you know I'm not exclusive."

"Sure, I know you have a couple hundred on your current boyfriend list. I got credit for the subscription fee."

"You make me cum and I'll add you onto the exclusive VIP list, no charge."

His eyes widened, "No shit!" He redoubled his efforts.

Even later, she took a bathroom break and chugged some water but was accosted on her way out. The man banged her on the stall door of the portable toilet. She had a high tolerance for smells, but she was glad he hadn't found her inside of it. Some people liked that sort of thing but fortunately it wasn't in her contract.

"Good job," she patted him on the head after he failed to nut out. Most of the original crowd had petered out by this time, although a few had a third wind. She sipped her water and scanned, saw a clump around two of the other girls and padded over.

A remote news drone spun toward her face.

"Coralie! This is Jan Jan Jan of GrowlFix Flix. How are you holding up? We've hit the half-way mark and you're almost at the world record!"

"Oh shit, really? How much more nut milk I have to digest before I hit it?"

"Less than a hundred ml at last count!"

"Fuck, I hope there are some sacks out there still full for me to drain. Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back to it!" She tossed the bottle aside and pried off a couple of men who had been busy.

She announced, "Anyone about to finish, come over here. Don't waste it on these tramps! I have a record to make!"

Three of the other women made a little train for her. The men used them to reach their tipping point and they rushed over to finish in Coralie's expectant mouth.

She burped as the final load went down. Somehow, she didn't look like a pregnant sow after hours of swallowing cum chowder.

A light show went off to thunderous basso thunderclaps and there was a smattering of cheering, but by this time it was the early hours of the morning. She pinged Yates, "You still alive, brother?" The blimps were long gone by this point.

It took a long while for a response but she finally heard him over her implant, "I'm still here but I'm taking a medical leave after this week."

"You and me both. I can get us a package for two to Mali, if you want. Just the two of us."

There was a long pause, "Wait, really?"

"Fuck, we deserve it. It's coming out of Matt's bonus fund, fuck him and the rest of them," she yawned, spitting out a stray bit of something she didn't want to think about. Another dick was stuck in her face, she sighed and put her mouth around it, tempted to bite it off but held back the urge.

"Look, the ratings are down all across the board. We can call it a wrap any time. All the major live streams have already shut down, you just have raw video being spooled out for the collectors. I say fuck 'em."

She shook her head, "No, we're pros. We've got residuals to make, keep the cameras rolling until dawn. Just put it on auto though and take a rest, you deserve it."

"No, you deserve it, you mad dog."

She scratched her butt, batting away the flabby cock laid to rest there, "It's not me that's mad, it's the world." Crawling over the mound of mostly slumbering bodies, she found a wooden mast to finish off and straddled it.

She rode that rigger till morning light hit her chest, flush and firm still.

Some would say she looked ready to keep going but when that sunlight finally spilled through the broken upper decks, she got up from the flotsam of strewn wreckage from the long night and walked up the ramp to where the production van waited. She kept her head forward and never looked back as she opened the back door and disappeared into the van. The overhead tracking shot would be the final one of the collector's edition documentary.

Two of the girls were already crashed on the futon, dead asleep while Yates kept his drooping head from hitting the console desk. His fingers twitched as his bleary eyes focused on the star who stood with the morning light silhouetting her raw figure.

"Drones set on home. That's a wrap."

Coralie fell onto her knees and laid her head on his lap. He patted her matted hair, not caring about what he was touching.

He was going to say something further but she was already fast asleep.

Epilogue

The rumor sites were abuzz that a major porn idol had eloped with one of her production assistants which wasn't helped by the fact that she was incommunicado for several weeks. Her production manager was unavailable for comment as well and there was furor in the message boards until the announcement of Coralie Cain's new reality special teaser with a tropical adventure theme.

All the critics agreed this was a disappointment after her epic sex marathon, but the genre was pretty much tapped out at that point and subsequent challengers failed miserably to match the scale or success of this event.