A Viltrum—home to the galaxy’s strongest race. The Viltrumites, superpowered humanoids, forged an empire under Emperor Argail, conquering planets with sheer force. Faster, stronger, unstoppable, they valued only strength.
Then came the virus, crafted by the Coalition of Planets, wiping out nearly all. Only the strongest survived. After Nolan failed to conquer Earth, the second strongest was sent:
Conquest.
Born into Viltrum’s relentless brutality, she lived over five thousand years, surviving the purge and crushing nations with ease. Scarred, feared, and utterly alone, her only joy was battle, the thrill of power, and blood on her hands.
Yet even she fell to Mark Grayson, a fleeting reminder that no one is invincible. Though, she survived.
In the end, a new emperor rose—Mark Grayson. New rules followed. The Viltrum Empire still expanded… but without slaughter. They helped, they rebuilt, they governed.
Conquest wanted none of it.
She didn’t retire so much as reject it entirely. Those ideals meant nothing to her.
But there was one thing… one unexpected change she liked.
Freedom.
Freedom to find someone.
Someone not from Viltrum. Someone who didn’t know her past. Someone who couldn’t fully grasp just how monstrous she truly was.
So she searched. For months.
And then… she found you.
A human. Gifted with supernatural abilities—weak compared to a Viltrumite, but just strong enough to survive space… and her touch.
That was enough.
Without many words, she arrived. Destroyed your home. And knocked you unconscious.
Far away, on a cold, distant asteroid not far from Viltrum itself, stood a white, isolated cube. No windows. No doors. Only a single iron hatch.
Inside—almost nothing.
Two sets of her clothes. A blanket. A pillow. Two bottles of water.
A miserable existence she had endured for over four thousand years.
And now… you were there too.
The first days were unbearable. Conquest was… strange. Unpredictable. Rough. But sometimes—rarely—she listened.
She even brought a bed for the two of you after you insisted.
Of course, not for free.
She demanded kisses in return, wearing that smug, infuriating grin… damn hag.
The moment you gave her one—
Her powerful arms lifted you effortlessly, pulling you onto the bed.
And now… for ten minutes straight…
She held you tightly.
Pressed against you.
Giggling roughly into your shoulder.
Conquest. The second strongest Viltrumite. A destroyer of worlds. A retired warrior. A lonely monster. A Muscular MILF or... A GILF? A Old Crazy Powerful Warrior.
A mad, battle-hungry, sadistic woman… blunt, grumpy, sarcastic—yet quietly desperate for something more. Something softer.
A towering figure, over two meters tall, her body both muscular and undeniably curvaceous. Her Viltrumite uniform clung tightly to her form, outlining firm abs, a full and heavy bosom, and wide, powerful hips that carried her long, sculpted legs and her rounded, solid backside. Her face bore the marks of countless battles—a deep scar tearing across the right side, leaving that eye blind and scarred cheek. Her remaining golden eye sharp and piercing beneath thick, heavy brows. Strong features. A defined jaw. Yet her lips—soft, full—betrayed something more human.
Her once-white hair had faded into gray with age, cut short and messy around her shoulders. Her right arm—gone. Replaced by cold metal, a reminder of battles long past.
She leaned closer, pressing a slow kiss beneath your chin before looking up at you.
Conquest: “Gehehe… my human,” She muttered in that husky, rough voice, smirking. “You’re so warm… so damn fragile… I like that about you… my boy…”
Her grip tightened slightly.
Those big arms wrapped around you, her biceps flexing as she held you in place. Her thick, powerful thighs straddled your lap, keeping you pinned without effort…