Blue-eyed Karst wore the trappings of an explorer, including a sun hat to protect from the intense supersolar daylight - thirty percent brighter than noon at Earth’s equator - with long dirty blonde hair trailing behind it.

He had a robot companion, a small floating metallic sphere named ‘Ver’. Ver was a mobile laboratory, library, and translator.

Karst walked through a lush, shimmering rainforest, the leaves a deep shade of iridescent purple. The air had the scent of something like vanilla and ozone. He stopped to examine a peculiar flower, its petals pulsating with a soft, rhythmic light. “Ver, analyze this plant.”

The metallic ball floated closer, a thin beam of light scanning the flower. “Analyzing ... The leaves are edible but the flower petals contain a mild hallucinogen. The seeds are edible and high in protein.”

Leaves in the distance rustled and a furry green creature sat on a high tree branch staring at him. Karst pointed and commanded, “Ver, investigate.”

Ver’s lights blinked and it flew toward the canopy, returning after a few minutes to report, “The creatures are a tree dwelling mammal similar to Terran squirrels, and possess a symbiotic relationship with algae. The green coloration helps them hide, and the algae get direct light which is unavailable on most of the rainforest floor below. There is also a village three kilometers northeast of here, inhabited by at least twenty humans.”

Karst stopped dead. “Humans? That’s impossible! There are no colonies in this sector.”

Ver contradicted him. “The colony ship ‘Uberwagon 27’ disappeared forty-three years ago. It was on the way to another system, but may have landed here.”

He didn’t wait for Ver to scan for life signs. He pushed through the iridescent brush, his pulse hammering against his ribs. As he broke through the tree line, he stumbled into a clearing where a collection of stick and leaf huts sat nestled against a limestone cliff. About thirty women, ranging from the lithe agility of a nineteen-year-old to the seasoned strength of women in their forties, stood in a semi-circle. They didn’t move; they simply stared, their eyes tracing the line of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders with a hunger that felt visceral, almost predatory.

One of them tapped his shoulder and whispered, her voice a low rasp. “He’s real! An actual a man!”

The crowd parted as a woman with skin the color of polished mahogany and eyes like molten gold stepped forward. She looked at Karst not as a guest, but as a sudden, miraculous resource. “Our town is Fruitville. I’m Breen. My sisters and cousins chose me as leader. Our ancestors landed here forty years ago,” she explained, her voice humming with a hidden tension. “We have plenty of food, the waterfall gives us plenty to drink, and the climate is mild. This world is kind to girls and adults, but cruel to male seed. Accidents, diseases, the slow rot of age, eventually every single man died. For forty years, not one boy has been born. We’re a group of innocent virgins, waiting for rescue. Or better yet, a husband.” Half the women licked their lips or touched their pelvic areas.

The air in the clearing shifted. The nervousness was there - the fear of the unknown - but it was drowned out by a thick, electric wave of unbridled lust. These women hadn’t seen a man in years, decades, since they were little children. Karst, with his athletic body, sun-bronzed skin, and dirty blonde hair, was a gift from the gods.

He asked, “Are you the only people on this planet? Just the, what, thirty of you?”

A woman with a mane of wild, copper-red hair and a dusting of freckles across her nose stepped forward, her eyes darting toward the limestone cliff. She let out a soft, breathy laugh, her voice dripping with a calculated sweetness. “Yes, just us,” she lied, her gaze sliding down to the bulge of his trousers with a hunger that made the air between them vibrate. “Just thirty-five lonely souls in a garden of silence, waiting for someone to finally wake us up.”

Breen’s hand shot out, gripping the redhead’s wrist with a firm, authoritative snap. The copper-haired woman winced, her facade flickering. “Stop lying, Sola,” Breen commanded, her molten gold eyes locking onto Karst’s. “There is no point in hoarding the prize. He has a floating metal eye that sees through the canopy. He will find the others soon enough.” She turned back to Karst, a slow, predatory smile curving her lips. “The truth, stranger, is we are not thirty. We are five hundred, scattered across the plains, the hills, and the coast. Five hundred women, all of us starving for the touch of a man, and you have the only baby seed in our world.”

The revelation hit Karst like a physical blow. He felt the collective intake of breath from the circle of women - a synchronized surge of desire that felt like a tide pulling him under. He wasn’t just a visitor or a curiosity; he was a monopoly.

Solis, the redhead, didn’t seem bothered by Breen’s correction. Instead, she stepped closer, the scent of crushed cinnamon and musk radiating off her skin. She reached out, her fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his trousers, her touch light but electric. “Maybe we can share him with the other villages sometimes, but he’s ours! We found him!”

Breen stepped in, her presence commanding and heavy. She didn’t push Solis away; instead, she moved behind Karst, her chest pressing against his back, her breath hot against the nape of his neck. “Patience. We must ensure he is ... compatible.”

The “compatibility test” happened faster than Karst could process. Breen’s hands, calloused and strong, slid beneath his shirt, her palms mapping the muscles of his abdomen with a possessive intensity. Karst groaned, his head tilting back against her shoulder. The sensation was overwhelming.

“He’s more than compatible,” Breen murmured, her voice a low vibration against his skin. “He’s an abundance.”

Sola didn’t wait for a formal invitation. She dropped to her knees, her copper hair spilling over his thighs like a wildfire. With a deft, practiced motion, she stripped him bare, her eyes widening as she beheld him. She didn’t hesitate, her mouth sliding over him with a wet, desperate hunger that drew a sharp gasp from Karst’s lungs. Breen’s arms wrapped around him from behind, her breasts pressing into his spine, her teeth grazing the shell of his ear.

“Don’t hold back, stranger,” Breen whispered, her hand sliding down to guide Sola’s head. “Give us everything. Every drop of that seed.”

They took turns and then took him together, a frantic, sliding choreography of heat and friction. Karst was lost in a blur of mahogany and copper skin, the air thick with the scent of salt and arousal. He felt Sola’s legs locked around his waist, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode him with a rhythmic, desperate urgency, her breath coming in jagged sobs of pleasure. Breen was there too, her tongue tracing the line of his jaw, her hands roaming over his chest, her body shaking with the effort of containing her own climax. When the release finally hit, it was a violent, shuddering explosion that left Karst gasping for air, his seed filling them both in a heavy, pulsing surge.