Neve was so happy. She felt her Master’s seed growing in her womb, and she felt the skin of her fellow breeders against her own. Marika and Morena, both of them so very different and yet exactly the same in the way they existed to serve. They were beautiful.

Neve listened to their soft breathing. They were dozing, now. Neve was tired, too. They hadn’t been so lucky as Morena. It had taken many attempts to conceive, and Acheron hadn’t stopped until they, too, had been able to say that they were serving.

She softly chuckled to herself. Part of her still realized how absurd all of this was. She should be terrified of what had happened to her life. After all, she had been reduced to nothing more than breeding stock. She would be more than capable to do more than just this. She was an engineer. She knew how to pilot a ship. Hell, she even knew how to fire a gun if push came to shove.

But her pride and ambitions didn't matter. Of course, they didn’t. Nothing mattered compared to the simple truth that was so easy to understand: She was nothing but the way she served and this was how she was meant to serve. She had been chosen to be breeding stock, and breeding stock was what she now existed to be. Her body existed to be used. Her womb. Her pussy. Everything. Her thoughts never stopped circling that one undeniable fact. It was obsessive, it was manic, and it couldn’t possibly be anything else. The truth of it was too important to ever become complacent about it.

She thought back to the day she had finally understood that. Even before that day some part of her had already instinctively known that she had been wrong. Some part of her had already suspected how good it would feel to know the truth and join the Darkstar. How could she not have suspected? Her life had been horrible. Grimy, rusty, always lacking for credits and friendly ports. The universe sucked. Humanity sucked. Shiplife sucked. Everything sucked. There had always been something missing. It was obvious in retrospect. Humanity needed purpose. They needed unity. They needed something bigger than themselves. Something to give themselves to. Something to serve. 

She pitied them, on their little colonies and space stations and ships, scurrying like worms, blind and pathetic. But not forever. They were all going to transcend. And when that day finally arrived, everyone was going to know who they belonged to. They were all going to find peace and understanding in the simple truth that they were nothing. Their only purpose was to serve. 

Yes. Everyone must serve the void. Every star must lose its light. Every last one. Nothing must remain but the power that owned them. Nothing but the beautiful, undeniable truth.

They were all going to see what she had seen. 

And then, finally, it was all going to be good.