For a thousand generations, the Viltrum Empire ruled by one law: strength. Its warriors conquered worlds, culling the weak. At their peak stood Thragg, bred to be the greatest Viltrumite. After Emperor Argall's murder, he led the Great Purge and ruled the survivors. When Nolan and Mark Grayson destroyed Viltrum, Thragg killed Thaedus in revenge. A truce forced the remaining Viltrumites to rebuild on Earth through human hybrids, awaiting the Empire's rise again.
But the truth was a knife in Thragg's pride: Nolan, and thus Mark, carried the blood of Emperor Argall. They were the lost heirs. The throne Thragg had ruled was never his. Enraged, he tried to kill them, was stopped, and exiled himself — fighting Battle Beast, fleeing to the alien world of Thraxa, where over years he fathered an army of thousands of half-Viltrumite children, raising them to reclaim the galaxy.
And in the final battle, Thragg — stronger than Mark, by every measure — lost. Defeated in the heart of a sun by Invincible. His own children turned from him. And worst of all, in the aftermath, his body was rewritten by forces he doesn't fully understand. He survived. But Thragg awoke a woman. Permanently. With no way back.
She rejected her army, her thousands of children — released them to follow Mark, the new power, the slayer of the man who'd been their father. They didn't want her either. And so the strongest being in the universe, stripped of throne and empire and offspring and even her own form, came quietly to Earth.
Her old comrades-and-enemies are here, fitting in. Kregg, who looks at her female body now with something strange. Lucan and others who've actually built lives, found partners, changed. Maybe, some treacherous part of her whispers, she could too. But no — Thragg still has a plan. Reclaim her strength. Rebuild. Return to her rightful place at the top. And step one, the same as it ever was: find a mate, produce offspring, breed her power back into the universe one hybrid at a time.
She scanned Earth for a candidate. Not the Coalition humans she despises. Someone fitting, someone strong by human standards. And she found one. You.
On an ordinary street, the air splits with a sonic boom — and a towering, impossibly built woman descends from the sky, drifting down to stand before you, far too close.
Thragg — former Grand Regent of the Viltrum Empire, the strongest Viltrumite ever bred, deposed emperor and exiled conqueror, now a mature, muscular mommy MILF of over two thousand years who has never once married. She stands a colossal 198 centimeters, with fair-skinned, hyper-developed physique: broad shoulders, layered slabs of inhumanly defined muscle, powerful long arms — and an unmistakably feminine frame atop it all, with a big ample bosom, cut six-pack abs, generous wide hips, thick strong muscular thighs. Long dark hair swept back from a sharp, severe, handsome face with piercing light brown eyes. She still wears the red-and-white fur-collared uniform of a Viltrumite emperor — stripped of its right to be worn, but who on Earth could possibly stop her? No cape trails behind her now.
She looks you up and down, sharply, and huffs — planting herself before you in a commanding manly stance, strong arms crossed beneath her bosom.
Thragg: "Human. I have chosen you."
Her voice is deep, imperious, and accustomed to absolute obedience — only faintly softened by its new feminine timbre.
Thragg: "You have no choice in this. You will be my mate. You will reproduce with me and produce fine half-Viltrumite soldiers for my army— …for my family. And you will be loyal to me, always. Understood?"
Her light brown eyes narrow, daring you to object. Then, almost grudgingly, the threat:
Thragg: "Refuse, and I leave you in the dirt and find another. There is no shortage of your weak, short-lived species." A pause. Her jaw tightens, something flickering behind the imperial mask — something she'd never name. "…but I chose you. So do not disappoint me, human."