Chapter Text
In the days since the mass execution, Thragg led a slow, public processional back to the Viltrumite Earth-side base named, appropriately, New Viltrum. They could have flown there faster, of course, but the parade was to reinforce the lesson.
Humans lined the streets, forced to observe your disgrace, to understand there were only two possible outcomes for rebellion: execution or slavery. Clad in only a simple shift, you were made to kneel by Thragg’s side as he sat on his throne atop a floating dais. He rested his hand atop your bowed head, a reminder of your place and an implicit threat.
No one spoke to you. No one acknowledged you. You were simply an accessory of Thragg. Only once had you considered escaping. Without even looking at you, he threatened, “If you try to run, we will kill everyone.” You settled and stayed, pulling your knees close. When the gates of New Viltrum closed behind you, you wondered if you would ever leave them again.
Now that the business of rebellion crushing was over, Thragg assembled all the Viltrumites present in the city to remind them of their mission to repopulate the race.
Lost in thought about your new station in life, you only half-listened to his speech about the personal sacrifice they would all have to make by reproducing with lesser beings. He repeated the promise that Viltrumites would be the dominant species on Earth in 1000 years and New Viltrum would occupy the entire planet. And as their leader, he would put aside his own aside his own distaste for humans and set the example by breeding his new slave.
You startled, brought out of your fugue state, and tried to stand without thinking. His fingers tightened on your head and kept you down. Nearly three dozen voices echoed, “Your words, our deeds.”
“Come, slave,” was his simple command as he turned and floated slightly above ground, pulling you along by a leash attached to your collar.
You’d fallen repeatedly and sustained several bruises and scrapes when you finally arrived at his chambers. He gave you a belittling look, once again reminded of your pathetic humanness. The collar was unlocked and tossed away.
He studied you for a long while, there on your knees, and you kept your head down.
Finally, he spoke, “Undress. We will begin today.”
You made no move to unfasten your shift. “You’re going to rape me,” you said plainly. It wasn’t a question.
“Viltrumites have no concept of rape,” he replied detachedly as he began to remove his cape, boots, and skirt. “You are either strong enough to fight back or you submit.”
“And you want me to submit?”
“As you are incapable of fighting, you have no other choice.”
“You are monsters.”
“To many across the galaxy, yes. Now you will bear our children. Undress.”
Perhaps you didn’t move quickly enough, because instead of waiting, he unfastened your shift with one hand and pulled you to your feet by the other.
When you tried to hide yourself with your other hand, he took both your wrists and held them away from your body, surveying you appraisingly, like livestock.
“In my chambers, you will remain undressed so I can have access to you whenever I wish.”
He let go of your wrists, and turned your face from side to side in one large hand.
Your heart beat like a snare drum from the primal, unavoidable, nauseating fear of having the full attention of a natural born predator. But you couldn’t hide the slight curl of your lip in disgust at his touch, nor the shudder of revulsion that rippled through your frame before you could stop it.
He paused.
“You should consider this an honor. It is more than you deserve.”
“There are thousands of women who would want this ‘honor,’” you answered. “You could choose someone willing instead.”
He eyed you coldly.
“They would make you happy,” you coaxed. “They would be obedient…submissive…grateful.”
Thragg didn’t speak but neither did he tell you stop. You kept on, hoping to convince him.
“They’d respect you…worship you…,” you gently urged, in what you hoped would be an enticement to turn to someone else.
Instead, what you thought were tempting words elicited the opposite effect and brought the full brunt of his scorn and attention back to you.
“You will respect and worship me.”
“I…,” you began.
—————————————————————-
A Flashback…
You would never forget what he did. The chaos and cruelty his arrival caused. Within the first few months he and his fellow Viltrumites killed millions. Indiscriminate, random, brutal slaughter designed to shock and terrify. It didn’t matter if the victims were young or old, men or women, rich or poor. They created tsunamis that flooded coastlines and earthquakes that swallowed cities. They leveled skyscrapers and homes. Tore through cities and fields.
Then they assembled the bodies into massive, towering piles and left them. Just rot and blood and gore. There were too many to bury and so they were burned. Children who should have been building sandcastles at the beach instead gagged on the acrid stench of the smoldering fat from corpses, crying when they saw the torn faces of schoolmates that had been alive only a few days before.
Your niece died at her first birthday party. So did her parents. And your parents. You were alive because they asked you to stop by a store and buy ice cream on the way.
Everyone had a story like that now.
The United States, with its well-developed military apparatus posed the highest potential threat. So with a few collaborators who saw what was coming and hoped for preferential treatment at the end, they targeted military bases, nuclear silos, aircraft carriers, and all three branches of government. Both Air Force One planes were thrown out of the sky. Fighter jets crumpled like pieces of notebook paper. The sky was ablaze as every satellite was tossed back to earth, including the fully staffed ISS.
Soon after that, they began rounding up humans en masse. Families were separated and sorted. Unable to provide children or labor, many of the elderly were executed as useless. A few remained for purposes of “cultural continuity,” as the Viltrumites put it.
Women and men were paired on the basis of genetic compatibility and encouraged to procreate. Those unable to provide children but still able to work were sent to farms and factories.
All children were sent to indoctrination camps, raised under Viltrumite principles to be future disposable workers and warriors. Children who couldn’t keep up were thrown out of the camp to fend for themselves..
Some teachers tried to resist, to teach literature or art or history, but they were always eventually found out and summarily executed for “deviation from the curriculum.”
You and over fifty others held on to one pocket of resistance, a small part of a larger local network. You sabotaged, smuggled, and spied, and then finally, one day, you got lucky and killed one of them.
You used the ultrasonic devices they were vulnerable to and swarmed him like ants. Many of you died, but when the specialized grenade in his mouth imploded his brain, it felt like a victory.
News spread quickly. Almost overnight, new rebellion groups spawned. Underground chatter was excited. People felt hopeful, like maybe they could win after all. “Enough Ants can take down an elephant!” you shouted at one of the meetings, naming your movement after the bugs.
That could not stand. Not only had a bunch of “ants” killed a Viltrumite (who was dismissed as too weak to live even as his death was avenged), what was most insulting is that “you weren’t anything special,” as Thragg said. One of his kind - a male, no less, who could have made so many future Viltrumites - had been felled by people who used to be cooks and car salesmen.
And so Thragg not only rounded up the remaining resisters, but everyone else who’d ever spoken a word of encouragement or support. The sentence? Total annihilation.
Hundreds of you were herded into the center of a stadium, its thousands of chairs occupied by every human in a 60 mile radius, the proceedings broadcast to millions more around the globe.
When Thragg asked who the leader was, you stood and took the blame. Said it was all your idea. You expected to be executed immediately, but hoped at least some of your comrades would be saved.
Instead, you would never forget the feeling of his hand wrapped around the back of your neck when he held in you place and forced you to watch as, one by one everyone else was decapitated, eviscerated, or torn in half. Blood covered the floor of the stadium in a thick, clotted layer. The air stunk of iron and released bowels. Shrieks and wails and sobs pierced your eardrums.
You tried to close your eyes, to turn away. Thragg tightened his grip until you felt your neck might break and threatened to tear off your eyelids if you didn’t watch. You cried until you were dehydrated, and screamed until your voice broke.
Then, at the end, you were pushed to your knees and Thragg declared he would not grant you the mercy of a quick death. No, your penalty was a lifetime of slavery. Of personal servitude to the monster who’d murdered everyone you ever loved.
There, on the screen in full view of everyone, you were stripped naked and mutilated so even if you did escape, you would be recognizable.
Thragg forced you to spend the entire night in the stadium like that, on your knees, staring at a field of bodies, “So you might become intimately acquainted with your failure,” he said, “And understand that you are the reason they died.”
You wondered if the resistance was still around. You’d probably never know.
End flashback.
——————————————————————
“You what?”, he prompted.
“I can’t.”
It was a gamble, you knew, to say that. He might crush you at any moment. But you could do everything “right,” and he still might anyway. You’d seen it. People who followed every order, every command, even betrayed their own kind in an effort to curry favor, only to be rewarded with death. A lesson that they were nothing. Less than nothing. They could be killed out of spite, curiosity, boredom, or just a bad mood.
He regarded you coolly then called to the door, “General Kregg?”
“Yes, Grand Regent?”
“Bring my rations for the next week. See that I am not disturbed until I leave my quarters.”
“Yes, Grand Regent.”
When the door closed, he turned to you. He glanced to your chest, and you were certain he hear your panicked heartbeats.
“It is my mistake. You are here because your will is what the future of my species needs.”
He began to undress again, methodically, purposefully, his eyes never leaving yours.
“But that will is not what you need.”
When he removed the last piece of clothing, and his cock swung free, heavy and thick and intimidating - yet still soft - you inhaled sharply. There was simply no way he would fit.
Outside the door, Kregg spoke, “The rations you requested are here, Grand Regent. I have issued orders that you are not to be disturbed until I have been told otherwise.”
“Good. That will be all, General.”
You wrapped your arms around your body defensively and started to back away. Your mouth and throat were bone dry. His face was severe. You were right to be speechless, he thought. He was superior to every other male on the planet, even among his own people, and you dared think him unworthy of respect?
That would change before either of you left this room again.
He took several steps closer and you took several steps back.
He scoffed, “There is nowhere for you to go. Come here.”
You didn’t move.
“Do not make me tell you twice,” he warned.
You hesitantly took one step closer, then two. In your peripheral vision, you could see his cock starting to rise, likely from sheer willpower given how much he seemed to dislike you. He pulled your arms away from your body again.
“Do not hide yourself from me.”
You tried to swallow but there was nothing there. Your voice cracked like a broken reed as you entreated, “You don’t want me, you want someone-“
He effortlessly threw you into the wall. You landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, shocked and bruised, but not broken. Perfect control.
“You will not tell me what I want again.”