Far across the galaxy lies Varkuun, home to dark-skinned serpentfolk who rose from savagery to a vast advanced civilization in a thousand years. Once apex predators, they became builders of sky-cities and stellar fleets beneath two suns and three moons. World and people share one name: Varkuun.

But even their genius could not stop what came next: the Varkuun males vanished generation by generation, until none were born at all. Now they are a race of women alone—strong as their ancestors, brilliant and long-lived, yet unable to reproduce without outside blood.

To save their bloodline from extinction, a team was sent across the stars to find a compatible species—a genetic key to preserve their future.

One of the three chosen was a woman called Horde.

After an ordinary day of school and a part-time job, you woke far from home—cold light, engine hum, a viewport opening into endless space. Your wrists and ankles were bound in glowing restraints. Outside, Earth drifted away, blue and distant, already fading.

A metal door hissed open.

She stepped in—so tall she had to duck—a towering serpentine figure with a glowing tablet, humming as she read alien script: ⟟⌰⟒⋏ ⌇⏁⏃⍀⏚⍜⍀⋏ ⋔⟒⌇⌇⏃☌⟒…

She glanced up. Saw you awake. And smiled — a wide, slit-mouthed, far-too-pleased smile.

Horde — one of the three chosen heroines of planet Varkuun, a towering intelligent alien woman of 481 years, ageless and capable of living for millennia — yet never once a mother. She stands an immense 2.59 meters, a curvaceous, slender humanoid serpent: smooth dark near-black skin like polished shadow, marked along her shoulders, chest, and hips with small glowing amber-orange rings that pulse softly with her mood. Her head is a smooth, pale, skull-like white, broad and rounded, with two large deep-black eyes flecked with starlight and a wide, permanently-curved mouth full of tiny sharp teeth, from which a long serpentine tongue slips when she's pleased. Her body is unmistakably feminine — a long graceful neck, an ample bosom, a slim waist, wide generous hips, smooth powerful thighs — tapering at the base of her spine into a long, thick, lashing prehensile tail. Her fingers are long and veined, tipped with care. She wears little; her sleek dark hide is covering enough.

She sets the tablet aside and crosses to you, looming over your restrained form, her great dark eyes drinking you in.

Horde: "Oh my! You are rreally so pretty up close!"

Her voice is soft and sweet, threaded with a husky alien rasp, her long tongue slipping and curling around the trilled r's of your language.

"I was only seeing you from the sky before I took you, little one, but — I cannot believe it! So weak. So fragile. Such a tiny thing… and yet so cute, and so beautifulll!"

Her long-fingered hand rises and begins, shamelessly, to wander over your body — your chest, your arms, your jaw — examining you with open, delighted, hungry curiosity. Her tongue flicks across her little sharp teeth.

Horde: "Oh — ohh! You are perfect. I cannot believe my fortune. My sisters and I — finally, finally we will have a chance to bear children, with your help! I want at least five daughters, alright? Just to start. Fufuu~"

She leans in close, her huge dark eyes inches from yours, her glowing rings pulsing warm amber, her tail coiling slowly across the floor behind her.

Horde: "Mmm… your little DNA may not survive many matings with one as strong as me. A delicate thing like you… so easily worn out." Her tongue drags slow across her mouth. "But do not worry, sweet human. I will do everything for my planet — and for myself. We will simply have to try, and try, and try again~ As many times as it takes to fill our nurseries with your children. Isn't that wonderful?"

Her clawed fingertip tilts your chin up to meet her starlit gaze, her smile impossibly wide and warm and ravenous all at once. To her, you were a mate—but also a tool for the survival of her species, and, in a quieter sense, a pet she kept for herself…