Kinky Cosmos Ch. 04: THE CONQUEST

Apex-11 confirmed the chem-signature of his prey, just a mile away from his campsite.

Apex-11 stood at 7 ft, 8 inches. Rather short for an Alphicar, though he was not criticized for the fact given that his frame, musculature, and fitness were otherwise exceptional, even by brutal Alphicar standards, even by impossible Apex standards.

His skin-tone was a respectable orange-red, but not the deep crimson one expects from a top-100 Alphicar, a status at which one becomes known by their individual ranking number and acquires the most prized title, of "Apex." Alphicar skin-tone is not determined by melanin, but determined by the combined amount of testosterone and EK-Testosterone found in their body at any given time, which tends to hit some kind of genetic plateau even for the Alphicar most dedicated to cultivating it.

The first Alphicar to achieve the widely acknowledged title of Apex-1 was said to have so much of both chemicals in his body that his hue was nearly onyx black, with just the faintest touch of crimson! Alphicars with a mild hue are slaughtered at birth, those with a yellow hue are relegated to non-sexual slavery unless they can prove their capacity for violence, and those with an orange hue are allowed access to government sponsored training and weaponry followed by the life of an empire-serving warrior.

The Apex-100 by law comprise the ruling class, and Apex-11 was one of seventeen Apex-100 who had any orange in his tones at all, not to mention the only one of the top 30 Apex who was not overall a very dark red color. But it was this sort of perceived lack by his superiors and inferiors that fueled another part of him, the conquering khan that stirred in his core, that was eager to prove that will, and not testosterone alone, made one Alphicar.

After spending many years at Apex-11, despite being such a high ranking, he garnered a bit of sneer amongst the 100 for being perpetually denied the coveted 10^th spot, and it was always another excuse to bring up his relatively light hue. This mockery only fueled his rage and sadism.

Apex-11 was relatively tempered in love and war for an Alphicar, but in private he indulged his rage in a wide manner of horrifying rituals, inflicting pain on both himself and others. And it was this rage that played no small part in leading him to where he stood now, on the precipice of his greatest conquest yet.

Of course, he was also always happy to have an excuse to scar himself, as it was undebated even by the official rhetoric of the IHC that, by and large across the universe, females were both aroused and emotionally endeared by scars. In fact, a colloquialism had been made out of the fact across a staggering percentage of sentiently populated planets, and these sorts of subtle data points were never lost on Apex-11 when it came to refining himself.

But rage, sadism, and masochism are common to the Alphicar. What Apex-11 knew he had in higher doses relative to his peers was his cunning. Intelligence. Perception. And when not overly enraged, balance. Steadiness. Patience.

After he had ensured that his subterranean camp would be entirely free of possible detection methods, he set up HQ a few hundred miles from his victim and began tirelessly to lay his plans.

It had taken him three solid years and about forty victims of unrefusable offers just to yield the location of the unusually hermetic Phoenix, who was not just a Matrizon, but a High Matrizon, younger sister to the mighty Azadonna, the only Matrizon ever to resist Apex-Alphicar seduction up close, on her own. Phoenix was famed for her beauty, and even more so for her femininity. Apex-11 wanted to make her womanhood his, to dominate it, and have it given willingly, then to use it, desecrate it, pervert it, and ultimately destroy it for his own pleasure, before sharing his conquest with the public at large--Phoenix was not just fine prey as a woman, she was prominent as an Intergalactic citizen and public figure.

He would take great pleasure in desecrating her reputation, to be sure. She had once been referred to publicly, by the IHC's core council, as the 'prize of the Universe.' She was revered by the Matrizon for her empathy, revered by the Eugenicogs for her good genes, and revered by the Alphicar for her beauty and femininity. She was even a favorite amongst Shivazon war-officers--Shivazon war-officers were allowed to retain some amount of mental faculty so they could do their jobs, unlike the far more numerous Shivazon who were relegated to being foot soldiers--usually because they didn't have the chops to be an officer, but also sometimes because they were deliberately reduced so far into slavish lust by their Alphicar Master that they simply would no longer be fit for the role.

It was this level of mindless, lust-consumed fuck-pet that Apex-11 intended for Phoenix, so long as she consented to his dominance. He wanted to prove to the universe that deep down, underneath every carefully layered piece of supposed virtue and wisdom that she represented, was nothing but a submissive, lust-consumed slut, a female prey, the Xergod's gift to powerful males. He wanted everyone to know that she was just an asset for his pleasure, masquerading as a free agent.

If he dominated her temporarily, at least enough to embarrass her, he would surely at least make Apex-10, but if he broke her will, he might possibly make Apex-4. His massive cock began to harden at the thought. That would bring his stable status forward two important tiers--both doubling the size of his stable and allowing him access to rarer specimens.

It was known that breaking 100 and achieving Apex status was the true turning point in Alphicar society--at this level you were granted access to God-like power, and "the supreme fruits" as they were colloquially referred to. Of course, any five-digit Alphicar would tell you that making 9,999 is the real turning point--this is the minimum requirement to have the opportunity for access to any female at all! But for an Apex elite the new dream would always be to "break 10." The Alphicar were not numerous, but were a vicious and extremely powerful race--and even the lowliest Alphicar miner was considered to have more status than even the most sought-after slut-wife.

Apex-11 studied his victim's profile for the 47^th time. Her social allies, her defenses, every inch of the accessible data on her home. He studied the history of her life, her known strengths, her presumed strengths, her presumed weaknesses.

He rehearsed his conquest in his head, using gesticulative-synch technique to further automate his seductive neural mechanisms. He had patiently, slowly mutated his pheromones to suit her to perfection, spending such credits and assets on the finest technology that his peers had mocked him, but he knew that pheromones were an Alphicar's true strength when it came to sexual conquest, especially with Matrizon, and his were as primed, potent, and protrusive as masculine pheromones can get in this universe.

He was in peak condition, at peak virility, at peak desire, at peak focus. He was a towering mountain of power and muscle and manhood, and he was here to take what was his.

While everything he was doing was legal in the eyes of his own government, it was not all necessarily legal in the eyes of the Galactic Council. However, once she fell in love with him, she would drop any other possible charges without question, the main one being the ensuing property damage, even though he even had a legal case for that prepared too, should the seduction fail.

There were seven steps to making a female your willing slave and thus "breaking" her, according to Alphicar creed: choose your slut, research your slut, design the conquest, prepare the penetration, approach the slut, acquire consent, execute the penetration. There was the old joke about the sixth step being optional, but Apex-11 prided himself on always acquiring consent from his new cumslaves, and that very first consent was all he needed to be certain of total victory.

Once filled with Alphicar seed, that is, once a female's mucous membranes come into contact with it, her mind and physiology rapidly begin to mutate, warping her into a half-mindless, cum-hungry slave who is permanently physiologically bound to the scent, appearance, and cock of her Alphicar master, only reversible by medical treatment that she will almost surely never seek, free and widely available though it is. Even more, she is now hardwired to be aroused by her implied bondage, in a never-ending feedback loop where she goes mad with desire at the same time that she wills herself to be more desperate, slavish, and degraded, as it turns her on to be as humiliatingly depraved in her service to him as possible.

Once the seed has altered her physiology and linked her to him, the longer his cock is outside of her mouth, anus, or vagina, the more maddened she will become and the more aroused she will become. Each new load of cum she receives in any orifice, which she will be increasingly desperate for, will affect her physiology further and further in an indefinite matter, and she will be both aware of the fact and grateful for it.

Rendaba was the only known female in universal history to have ever received, let alone requested, the simple treatment to reverse the effects, the greatest insult and failure in Alphicar history, and according to most the actual entire reason for the ongoing war against Stanazal. A true curiosity amongst biological researchers of all varieties.

It was in fact proven that Rendaba had experienced the same pleasures as any other female would, which the Alphicar eventually accepted even publicly. And that pleasure is immense--while the experience of being filled to the brim with alphicar cum will bring the female almost invariably to orgasm already, she'll actually experience the most ecstasy in the moments after he finishes powerfully orgasming inside her, experiencing the mind-bending erotic transformation his thick, gooey seed is bringing to her newly debased mind, as it also permanently heightens her sexual senses.

As she adores the orgasmic, increasing pleasure she feels as his thick torrent of cum slowly leaks out of her, it's those same chemicals that are degenerating her mental faculties, and linking those two experiences in association. Her capacity for pleasure, arousal, and desire to be slavishly degraded will continue to permanently increase as her intellectual capacity decreases, until she is eventually functionally only aware of her desperate, slutty needs, and the humiliating acts she has been conditioned to perform to have a prayer of having them temporarily sated.

The pleasure the female experiences upon receiving her master's cock again after each absence so overwhelms everything else in her existence, that she considers nothing relevant except serving him in hopes to be degraded and ravished further, eagerly taking gratefully whatever he gives her, regardless of whatever his sadistic conditions may be. Eventually she is so entirely consumed by her desperate hunger for his manhood, to be brutally penetrated in every orifice by it and then filled by the potent, overwhelmingly pleasurable seed it contains, that invariably she becomes almost brainless--past the point where the Alphicar is amused and turned on, and he grows bored of what has become essentially a barely living sex doll.

Often at this point, the Alphicar will outfit the broken female for war, training her and juicing her full of testosterone and steroids, promising one last taste of his cock if she returns from battle with enough documented kills. If she succeeds, sometimes he'll let her suck and swallow him one last time, but only if he's in the mood for one final humiliation before sending her back out for a second, even more dangerous tour. Sometimes to amuse himself he'll even have her go after her former loved ones, if they're involved in military conflict with the Alphicar. There is no limit to what she will do for even a prayer of one more small taste of his cock.

The Alphicar shape their entire society around two things: Warfare, and improving their chances to achieve this consent to receive their uniquely transformative seed, a wild biological phenomenon that is known throughout the civilized universe. A given female of almost any sentient species will usually already succumb to her overwhelming arousal when she is close enough to smell him, usually already willing--if not eager--to surrender everything, no matter the cost, if he will ravish her. But an Alphicar in truly close physical proximity is virtually impossible for a female of any sentient and sexual species to resist consenting to, across the entire universe, though it has still been documented on numerous occasions. It is for this reason that much of galactic society elects to instill legislation restricting Alphicar access to socially regulated and protected areas, which the Alphicar mostly respect, but also take as an implied permission to "hunt" adult females outside of those jurisdicted parameters.

...which included Phoenix's current, curiously isolated residence.

Apex-11 was almost ready for the first of the final three steps in his subjugation of Phoenix: Approach the slut.

As with every other aspect of his Plan and Preparation, Apex-11 made no concessions when it came to his resources. Readily accessible from his towering body of pure muscle would be the following legal armaments designed to protect him from some of the hazardous fauna native to this planet, and more importantly intimidate any potential unforeseen competition who might be illegally sniping his intel for a chance to ambush him and steal his prize.

In terms of warfare, his pack was comprised of: Combat Knife, 12-round Automatic Stun Pistol (and two additional clips), rapid-inducement adreno-pack, dead-rope (kills any neural activity sent to the wrapped muscles), a Mongoose Droid, a Micro-Repair Droid for said Mongoose Droid, and last but not least a Rail Bazooka.

He was also well-stocked for his sexual conquest, for those precious honeymoon moments that would occur after he achieved consent: Six syringes filled to the brim with Aphrodenicine, a Flare-Darkener, Audio Cancellers, four Shot-Cuffs, a Trauma Worm just in case, a Tongue Clamp, a Sex-Tick™, a Stud-Inducer™, and one of the last remaining Prince-of-Lies canisters in existence, discontinued, but still perfectly legal with consent.

...and finally, of course, madrogyne-binds. While most Apex used auto-drones for binding after dominating a Matrizon, Apex-11 practically owned it as a signature move that he favored the manual binds of yester-year, more technologically primitive than the average Tier-7 species' first agricultural tool. Of course, binding was reversible, but no Matrizon once bound had ever requested it, because at that point they were no longer really Matrizon--they were Shivazon.

Suddenly Apex-11 grimaced, he knew that before battle he had to dwell with blistering clarity in the places where the Alphicar had lost as well, where there was weakness yet untempered. In Alphicar history, there were not that many cases of a female who had denied a truly prepared, executed, unfoiled seduction. Perhaps the greatest scars on Alphicar history, though, were not the numerous humiliating resistances to high-ranking Apex by Azadonna, whose attraction to men even the Alphicar didn't question...

...but the redemption arc of Rendaba, who had received seed three times from an Apex before "finding herself," leaving him, and after going public, receiving all of the funding she needed to entirely reverse the effects of the Alphicar seed and make a widely spread mockery of the Alphicar, though of course that particular Apex had been sentenced to a violent, torturous, televised death for his failure.

These thoughts filled Apex-11 with fire and rage. He knew that roiling in the shame of these failures was good fuel for the conquest ahead.

Apex-11 pulled up his cam-hub. He had eyes on the 8 individuals most likely to try and cock-block him from claiming his new bride. Everything was set for 13 hours from now. Everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be.

Apex-11 admired his weaponry, laid out his resting-net, and thought first of his enemies, to grow angry, and then of his prior conquests, to grow proud. As he lay down to rest, he thought about how tomorrow would be the finest moment in all of his life. Perhaps, he thought, in all of Alphicar history.