u/DaemonikDreamer

I made this to be an actively moderated NSFW alternative to r/PrimarchGFs

Frankly, being the only one who actively and consistently posts here has me thinking what the point of it even is anymore?

For a while I considered trying to grow the reddit in the hopes of cultivating something resembling a community - or at least a place that's actively visited and engaged with by people - but free-time is at a premium for me right now and I seriously cannot afford to split hairs and focus on a bajillion different things.

So I'm just gonna stop posting. I'm not going to close the sub. I don't think I need to close the sub. Thanks if you got something out of it, it'd be nice to think I haven't been wasting my time with all the posts and reposts, but I need to get my priorities in order and that doesn't include maintaining this slice of the internet ATM.

Maybe in the future. Certainly not right now.

"What now?" He pressed, and Isha pointed to …

"Now? We watch as this seed I've nurtured sprouts at last."

Eldrad saw that the Ruinous Powers each sported a prodigious erection, and had gathered round the Star Child, who looked at each penis with a terrifying hunger.

"Then, watch we shall…"

"...There's no going back. Not for any of us. Why care about the past? Mount me here and now. We all want it, so why still bother to pretend otherwise? Why keep playing this coy 'Great Game'? We can go back to being enemies later. Right now, you all need to slut me up, you abominable bitches; it's not like you worms could break my blessed human fuckhole anyways..."

Some would hear such scandalous words and fruitlessly wonder 'how could this be'?!?

Eldrad knew better.

Frankly, anyone who expected any other outcome to the Faerulh Ishyrea wasn't paying attention to how the warp works. The moment Isha could shape the outcome of this Paradigm Shift was the moment its ultimate outcome became set in stone.

Which was to say; it pleased the divine mother to see the Chaos Gods play at becoming mothers in turn.

The Dark King continued. "So, individually, or together?"

"Endlessly would be my preference." Malal said as she made her move. The Renegade God hefted her veiny, pulsating, ribbed Daemon-Dick as she descended down, trailing a line of slick white seed from Neoth's Adams-Apple to the tuft of pubic hair that crowned her glorious cunt.

"You are my opposite, Dark king. You are MY fated rival! If any deserve… 'this'... first, then it is I." Malal pontificated as she dove in for a kiss on Neoth's lips, the pair's eyes rolling into the backs of their heads as Malal's tip began to penetrate, and stretch the Star Child wide.

"Ghhhhhh! What a pathetic display!" Khorne bellowed, her bulging arms crossed as her meat-sword stood at attention, impatient and angry.

"Oh? Is someone jealous?" Slaanesh jested, her hands on her hip as her own cock danced with excitement, pulsating and undulating and bobbing up and down in sheer anticipation, leaking semen all the while.

"Fuck the Dark King or each other, you two." Tzeentch said as she used the distraction to slink behind Neoth's back, and hug her from behind while Malal continued to plow the Mon'keigh goddess. "Aaaaaahhhh… this is nice. Though it could do without your clumsy thrusts."

"Fuck off Tzeentch!" Malal broke off the kiss and spat at her fellow Chaos God, who frowned angrily for a whole five seconds before their staring match gave way to a passionate French-Kiss.

"If you two are finished. Get that bird dick up my ass already, Tzeentch." The Dark King demanded, throwing her butt back and playfully bashing the crotch of the Changer of Ways.

Nurgle eyed Neoth's mouth, and flew through the warp and into position above it, though stopped to turn to Isha as the Aeldari Goddess shot an uncharacteristic, predatory stare at her chaotic counterpart.

Tzeentch didn't notice as her rock-hard chubby lined up with, and began digging into, the future Empress's bootyhole. Nor did Malal, as she kept staring at the outline of her humongous cock beneath Neoth's womb-flesh as she dutifully thrust in and out of her self-proclaimed rival's innards.

Khorne didn't seem to care one way or another. Though, Slaanesh certainly did. For a moment, Eldrad's gaze connected with that of She-Who-Thirsts, whom licked her lips hungrily.

"Little Eldar. I know you are there. I know that snack Nurgle denied me is there. Be grateful that I found - and am enjoying - an indulgence even more magnificence than that which gave rise to my perfect existence. Time is without end to your mortal mind, and I will end no more than it will. Eventually, inevitably, I will taste you all..."

Slaanesh grinned as she moved to get one of Neoth's idle hands around her dick. That smug aura was only rivalled by the intensity of Isha's anger. Eldrad felt it, saw it crease the gentle features of the divine mother of the Eldar race into an ugly scowl, and worried for a moment that Isha would start a fight she could not hope to win.

"This must not be interrupted… this must not be interrupted… this must not be interrupted…" Isha kept muttering under her breath, and for a moment, a vision overwhelmed Eldrad; Isha appearing behind Slaanesh in a flash, both her hands wrapped around the bitch's neck, the hermaphrodite's cock being abused by the fertility godess's bottom as the shameless slut begged for greater abuse.

Even the thought of Isha acting so violently rivalled the strangeness of the Chaos God fuckery in the distance. And what had coursed through Eldrad's disembodied mind had been no flight of fancy…

It scared Eldrad more than She-Who-Thirsts.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhh… that's the pleasure I've come to expect from you…" Slaanesh cooed, letting out a long, throaty moan as she finished getting Neoth's left hand around the Princess's prick and tugging the slick, slimy snake-shaft. This as Tzeentch finally broke all the way through the Star Child's backside, and began chirping with delight as she sunk in and yanked out of the Mon'keigh's gluttonous butthole, making her plump ass jiggle and smoosh as Tzeentch made use of it.

"Hey, Khorne, I bet you can't last as long as I can!" Slaanesh teased, and Khorne, frowning bucked her hips in Neoth's direction.

"Really? With that dainty lizard-dick?" Khorne scoffed, her own bullish hard-on twice Slaanesh's size, and thrice as girthy. It was a slab of pure, meaty muscle, and Neoth's right-hand barely managed to grip its underside as that hand went to work. Khorne immediately grunted, and her knees shook, their dick dribbling cum for a moment or two before the Blood God caught her breath and resumed her prior posture.

"You adapted to pleasure, blood bitch. I was born from it, molded by it..." Slaanesh insisted, grabbing both her breasts and giving them good squeezes, her tongue flicking out of her mouth as she hissed in excitement and satisfaction. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah… yeeeeessssssssssssss… here, I'll even give you a handicap." Slaanesh then laughed and moaned in equal measure as she played with her boobs above, and enjoyed the jerk-off down below.

"M-may I?" Nurgle asked, hovering above the Star Child, her musky, ribbed moth-meat dangling down inches from the Mon'keigh deity's open mouth. A stupor had overcome Neoth, and her mouth had been wide open for at least a minute now in an O - face. Her tongue-tip protruded out a little from her lips, though was shy of dangling out and drooling all over the place.

"Yeah… Nurgle…" Tzeentch said as she wrapped her arms tightly around Neoth's torso, the smothering hug practically pancaking her boobs against the Dark King's muscular back."Chmmmrrruppppp…mmmhurrrrchuuuurrrppp… chirplllluuuurrrrpppp…. Fuck your ass is nice, Anathema!!" Tzeentch's balls swung pendulum-like as she picked up her pace, and entreated everyone to the wet squelching *SHLURPSH-SHLURPSH-SHLURPSH* sound that followed someone's ass being violated by a dick with the speed and grace of an inebriated woodpecker.

"You may!" Isha shouted from afar, hands cupped over her mouth to help carry the message. Then Isha turned to Eldrad and clarified "I would quite like to see the fruits of my labors ripen. Watch, Eldrad, as the potency of my healing arts upon that recuperating, erst diseased bastard is put to the test."

I hope I go the rest of my existence without hearing Isha call someone a 'bitch' again… Eldrad thought as Nurgle's sweaty girth pushed past Neoth's lips, the human whore's eyes watering as she gargled and suckled and slurped on the fat cock of the Plague Mother.

"How's the taste? Tee-hee-hee…." Nurgle giggled as she put her left hand upon her hip, and grabbed a handful of Neoth's hair with her right, tugging it towards and away from her dick in-rhythm with her measured thrusts.

"Mmmngha! Mmmngha! Mmmngha! Mmmngha! Mmmngha!" Neoth went as she happily bobbed on it, her tongue undoubtedly doing tricks on Nurgle's tip within the warm cavern of that Mon'keigh gullet. Nurgle yanked the Dark King away hard for a moment, her dick coming out with a *POP* and waving around in the human deity's face for a few moments as that naughty tongue started lapping away at the moth-meat like it was a lollipop.

"This is where you belong." Nurgle said in a whispery fashion, barely loud enough to be heard by the others. "You did this to us. You belong to us. Oh, Anathema, I can't wait to put a baby in you…"

Now that was a notion that threatened to curdle Eldrad's very essence. Scions of the Dark Powers... he thought it over, summoning all the doubt he could muster. No, this is no serious proposition. It cannot be. Dirty talk, that is all. Verbal filth befitting those vile abominations!

Yet, it lingered - the implication.

What terrible things might come to pass if those words were not said in jest? Certainly, Isha did not look upon the scene as if what was being sowed could never be reaped...

"Shea nudh Asuryanish ereintha Asuryanat."

Eldrad Nuirasha let the direst of all the Asuryani's prayers leave his lips as he felt the Shokk-Attack Gun of a stupid Ork Big-Mekk hit him head on; destroying him completely, save his now-doomed soul.

He had foreseen the attack. How could he not have? Early as he was into his career, none could claim to have innovated the art of the seers as he had. All was going according to the whims of the destiny he forged for his kin… only… the unthinkable had ruined it all.

The moment everything was set to change had been the very moment Eldrad died.

He had stood around for a second longer than he should have, and moved a second too sluggishly. That alone might not have been enough to seal his fate, yet, the damned Shokk-Attack gun had misfired for the same reason that Eldrad was impaired so.

The Immaterium was ablaze.

Though young, the skilled farseer had already attained a knack for discerning the weave of things-yet-to-be. Within the warp, the full potency of the Eldar availed itself, and he permitted himself one last indulgence before She Who Thirsts stole his soul away for eternal torment.

That Ork Waaaaaaaagh!!! And the Greenskins that made up its ranks had not been the thing that'd killed him. No. It had been 'him' - The Emperor. That infernal Mon'Keigh utterly incapable of leaving well-enough alone.

As Eldrad's soul sailed through the warp, he drank in the course his life should have taken - its failures, its triumphs, and all that lay between those two extremes. He felt nauseous at the sight of it, and a corona of anger glowed around his unearthly essence as he witnessed that foolish human make every wrong decision despite the wise council of his so-called Eldar friend.

Why I was going to bother with the halfwit, who could say? Eldrad thought as Slaanesh drew closer and closer.

If nothing else, the Prince of Pleasure seemed away from their terrible palace at the time; preoccupied too, for how lagged Eldrad's doom was. The would-be Farseer of Farseers was not interested in using that leeway to stretch his doom out, however. As their soul was drawn to some dark corner of the warp, the man who would have been Ulthran steered clear as best as any creature could from the energies roiling all about.

Ten thousand years. Ten thousand years of laborious micro-managing of the galaxy's affairs. And for what? To sacrifice himself during the "13th Black Crusade"? To become tethered to a stillborn God of Death, always a step behind the Dark Prince of Chaos? To linger beyond his years, fading into naught but a statue amongst the Dome of Crystal Seers?

Eldrad saw how it all ended. Eldrad saw all the ways it could have ended. Time had been made more of a suggestion in real-space than an ironclad absolute as of late. Within the warp though? Time was a joke. He felt he was there as surely as the soul of his far-off counterpart, watching the Dark King bring a close to an eternity of war.

Then, for a moment, he looked closer than he should have.

"Peer not that way, dear child…"

No longer was his soul in motion. Now it hovered unnoticed before an obscene display; the Dark King, surrounded by the other Ruinous Powers.

And behind him? Something greater still lingered in the warp.

"All Chaos Gods must be bred. That's what you set out to do. The way I see it... the way WE see it... there's still one left to breed... 'Dark King'."

Eldrad heard the voice of malice itself echoing through the immaterium. That should not be. There was no end to why that should not be. Yet it was, and here he was, witnessing the raging maelstrom at the heart of the warp in mortal terms, understanding the chaos in a manner that would not rend even his prodigious mind asunder.

"My child… my beautiful child… worry not… your mother is here to preserve you…"

Around Eldrad, he saw others streaking through the warp like comets, swirling around him. There was no spark of consciousness in them. Those lesser talents had not the unparalleled skill the Farseer had been predestined to wield. So he alone, then, heard the voice of the Mother of Eldanesh… the divine mother of the Eldar… 'The' Mother…

Eldrad turned his awareness away from the Chaos Gods, and upon her: benevolence incarnate. Kind, loving, and maternal to a fault. The Eldar Goddess of Fertility was absolutely beautiful. Not the sick, twisted beauty of Slaanesh over yonder, no, Isha was a pure, voluptuous flower. Long, flowing, glossy green hair was atop her head. Her nude body was decorated only with ornaments like a diadem atop her head, a jeweled necklace between her breasts, and a chain-link lingerie weave that saddled her hips and left little of her crotch to the imagination.

Exactly as the ancient statues depict her… Eldrad thought in awe.

Though, one difference did stand out. Fresh red markings tattooed her flesh in the style of the ancient Aeldari, the most prominent of which were three-score upon each cheek. It was akin to Khainite war-paint, yet, it glowed with the same jeweled radiance that surrounded the Goddess in a ruby-red aurora - Spirt Stones, countless from the tears she'd been shedding, within which the souls that Slaanesh would've stolen away now found new homes within.

And the spares of which had been rent into dust, and applied to her skin in some arcane practice far beyond the lore of the survivors of the Eldar Apocalypse. Whatever importance it had to the divine mother, the living lore of it had surely died with her priests and priestesses many years ago, leaving Eldrad none the wiser.

That said, he tasted grief in the nonexistent air, and a calm fury, and something his kind were not meant to feel towards or within the mother of their very souls.

"Be not afraid, dear child. I will not let you suffer."

"How…" He began to murmur, then paused as a familiar voice piped up amidst his break from all-consuming awe.

"All of you... yes... it seems I've taught you all love. And it seems I gave you all hearts. So, the question is, do you love me?"

Eldrad turned back to the Chaos Gods, and witnessed the thing that had been… would become… and molt back into... his future Mon'keigh friend. What radiance it had. A shame that a clueless ape wielded such splendor. If Eldrad had had that power…

If he had a head to shake, it would be shaken quite vigorously at that moment.

"Do not be jealous, and do not resent them, Eldrad. It was their hand that saw me freed. It is their remedy which is the source of this splendid treatment for the sickness the Necrontyr unleashed upon the Sea of Souls. I bless and approve of what has transpired this day, as my nature demands."

Eldrad turned his attention back to her, and for all the sultry fire of her words, saw none of it reflected in her body language. Nurgle's plagues had no more purchase upon her flesh. Her body was pristine and free of wounds. Not even her spirit had been damaged in any meaningful way. Eldrad was not blind to the furor that had gripped the other Gods and, yet, the Eldar Goddess of Fertility and Healing was effectively immune to it.

As immune to it as Nurgle was to disease.

And then, he realized, that while the God that Neoth had become had been the source of the flames scorching the warp, and burning it clean of so much suffering, that Isha was the wind, directing and inflaming this Paradigm Shift into a shape and structure that would save so much from suffering.

Not just that though… Eldrad knew. At this point in his life, Eldrad had 'choice' opinions about Gods. His talent let him leech his future wisdom, yet, youth kept nostalgia from clouding his eyes to the obvious.

Isha was a goddess of fertility.

Such wondrous things would be sown in the aftermath of what transpired now.

However, all Gods were bound to their nature. Those touched by her love would be compelled to practice it in turn. Such was the way of things. Whether it was by the hand of Khaine or Khorne, those who were touched by war gods were consumed by war. Already, Eldrad felt his theory play out in practice, as second by second he felt his gaze linger longer than it should on Isha's shapely curves, her glowing face, her lewdest nooks and crannies…

"Faerulh Ishyrea." Eldrad dubbed the ongoing phenomenon.

"A fitting epithet, little one." Isha said, near breathless, smiling ear to ear, her heart shaking with the joy of a mother who'd witnessed their baby's first words.

"I know the importance of what you do, divine mother. Even so, please, take these Soul-Stones to realspace and leave for the Webway! Slaanesh can only stay distracted for so long. It would wound us all to see you dead so soon after being freed from Nurgle's manor."

"Delivering these Soul-Stones shall be your responsibility." Isha insisted. "I must stay in the warp. I have strength enough to temper Nurgle's rot, and such is my responsibility. Within their garden, I will be safe from Slaanesh. Worry no more about me, Eldrad."

It was bitter to hear those glum words, yet, Eldrad would obey the wishes of Isha.

How could he refuse?

(The following entry contains a man taking it in the ass. Viewer discretion is advised for any heterosexual male readers which, statistically speaking, is most of yall. Everyone else enjoy!)

There were no guards barring the way to the Sigillite, to Kya-San Weia's utter relief. The agent of noble Brahm al-Khadour could feel her lord's mind grow faint, and was flush with panic at the thought that he might have at last met his match.

That she had dallied for the sake of sex made it all the worse. Even so, their forces took the administrative center of the Mediterranean backwater speedily enough, and mere minutes after his radiance dimmed, Kya was swooping through vacant hallways back to her master's side. By the time she laid eyes on guards, it was a quaint duo of automata barring the way to some flashy ball-chamber, and she was quick to cripple the menaces before breaking through, levelling her gauntlet-mounted laser tubes at the assortment of political peacocks prancing around in the garish garb of nobility.

All their attention was affixed to the back of the room, and before Kya could say a single word, she heard the voice of Brahm al-Khadour from that direction - from the source of their attention.

He was the source of their attention. He and the lady-lord of Neo Arcadia.

*Mgh! Mgh! Mgh! G-ghugkk!!*

It was his voice that made those lurid sounds, though free of the aged inflection the old sorcerer preferred to take with his troops. What her eyes saw was no sagged, leathery skin sage; Brahm al-Khadour knelt before a muscular giant of a woman, the both of them nude and nubile. He was half her size, his pale skin delicate and his soft features dainty. Lustrous, long white hair fluttered like a flag as his head worked a phallus bigger than his own, shamelessly gurgling as he wrapped his lips airtight around her prodigious girth and worked in in and out of his throat, the noise like the sound of a soul itself purring with contentment. His eyes were malformed, shining as he worked the taste of the woman he'd come here to hunt into his tastebuds. With a *POP!* his head bobbed off of her tip, so he could lash her taint from the bottom of her balls to the masthead of her shaft, a pitter-patter of drool running down his half-open mouth and her genitals down upon the marbled floor of the ballroom. It pooled by his knees and her feet.

"Lrooohrollloo ~ Rero-rero-lolll-luhh-lool ~ Mph-lom-luhmmmmph-lul ~Luh ~ luh~ lmmuhghhh ~ "

He's... he's really... really... really... Her thoughts were stuck on-loop. She knew now why all attention was directed at them. All around her, a sample-platter of the global aristocracy were stewing in their own juices, or tearing apart their high-fashion for airl. Some went so far as to masturbate, yet, none copulated. None could spare that much attention away from the display before their eyes. Not even Kya San-Weia.

Her dick flopped out on its own initiative, and her right-hand found its way to the hilt of her meat-sword. She started tugging at it, and a warm gooey sensation overcame her head. It felt like her head was being baked from the radiance of the two. Her heart was beating three-times its normal speed, and to say nothing of how erect she was at the sight of her lord bouncing his bubble-butt behind him while his front throated the lady-lord's slick shaft.

"That's a good Sigillite. Now... swallow..." Said the Lady-Lord, a drawn-out 'aaaaaahhhhhhh' leaving her lips as , shivering, she flooded the throat of Kya's master with steaming hot jizz.

*GULP! GULP! GULP!* Went Brahm al-Khadour as he gladly downed it, pulling off after the third guzzle. The rest of the load went spurting over his head, raining down every which-way upon his sweat-stained body. He seemed so incredibly soft in that moment. Kya San-Weia had never thought of Brahm al-Khadour as soft. Yet, she imagined his touch against her skin, and pumped her own balls empty at the idea of it - of him between 'her' legs - and bleated like a gutter-trash imbecille as she sprayed the contents of her crotch onto the backside of an Ursh bitch's fluffy gown. That didn't snap the broad out of the spell, and the noble whore was lucky for it - the moment Kya San-Weia could avert her eyes, she was pinning down the nearest broad and knocking them up.

"Excellent work. Now, why don't we give our guests one last feast for the eyes. Do you have anything to say before we begin?" Spoke the lady-lord, a vixen's grin upon her face, the bitch licking her lips as Brahm al-Khadour got up from his knees and hopped up onto her lap, his juicy cheeks folding around her flaccid erection, which was regaining rigidity at an alarmin rate.

"Thank you for breaking in my bitchy backside, my Empress." He giggled, rocking in her lap and clapping his cheeks around her cock, a giddy energy to him as he squirmed in place impatiently.

"Oh? You want my thick conqueror's cock up in your virgin booty then?"

He nodded vigorously, grabbing her wrists and yanking them harshly to both sides of his butt. "I want to be your fuckdoll. I need to be your jizzrag! I wanna break... I wannabreakIwannabreakIwannabreak!!! I've wanted to break for years now!!! Oh... ooooohhhhhhhhh..." he was hyperventilating, and for a moment Kya San-Weia thought she saw concern flash in the eyes of that 'Empress'. "I will always be yours. Yours and yours alone!!! Hehehehahahahahah!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! My Lord!!! We both deserve this, don't we!?!?!?!"

The Empress 'mmmhmmm'd at this, and asked "all you want in this world is right behind your butt then? My insatiable magnitude? My prodigious prick? You want me to dick you down until there's nothing left but a soul covered in my rancid cum?"

"Stop teasing" he replied, lunging his lips at her mouth, and locking tightly as he slapped his cheeks a few teasing times, a dollop of pre-cum coaxed from her cockhead as waves of fat jiggled around her rough, veiny phallus.

Their lips were locked, yet, something like a hawkish scream came from his throat as she slapped her hands down, both glowing gold, and rays of light engulphed his behind. Lifting up Brahm al-Khadour's bottom, Kya San-Weia saw the outline of a two-headed aquila traced around his tailbone, before his virgin anus was pierced through, and with a flash that outline was filled in, and a shiny golden tramp stamp born to mark the occasion; one that Kya San-Weia knew carried the power of the immaterium.

His throat seemed to scream and scream and scream like a jammed chainsword even as he violently sucked face with the Empress, his twitchy eyes rolling into the back of his head as he was mercilessly pounded into oblivion.

*THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP!*

Brahm al-Khadour's everything was shaking.

*THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP!*

Not even half a minute passed before his flaccid dick started leaking jizz all over the Empress's abs.

*THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP!*

The way he gyrated on her hips was hypnotic.

*THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP!*

The way she thrust as deep as her dick could take her was without mercy.

*THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP!*

The bulge of her cock in his belly made the Sigillite seem pregnant, and the moment her nut bust, Kya San-Weia knew he'd be stuck looking the part for some time. His hair fluttered as that scream in the back of his throat finally started dying down, and he did a trick twist, spinning around on the piston-pounding bitch-breaker while still getting hammer'd away at, bracing his hands on the floor, wrapping his legs around her thighs, and finally locking her in place as she was buried into him as deep as she could go.

"That's it, my pretty little Sigillite. Have your fill. Empty that tired head of yours out onto the floor."

"Mmmgh-guhuhurr-ggnnuummm!!!!" Babbled Brahm al-Khadour as he wrung her tight, flopping like a fish, tongue out and eyes wild as, as last, his belly was bloated impossibly by the gallon-blast of baby batter that surged out of the Empress's balls into his stomach. As she let loose within him, he let loose upon the ballroom, that mighty prick of his spewing violet semen all across the crowd - across Kya San-Weia too. Immediately, Hexagrammic Wards within her armor flickered to life, before burning brightly into nothingness as the power of her master overwhelmed them. Seconds later, everyone started fucking like rabid animals, not unlike the pair they'd all been gazing at seconds ago.

Kya San-Weia, to her credit, remained focused on the prize before her, soaring over to the pair with her armor's wings and standing before Brahm al-Khadour, who seemed utterly drained.

"Will he be alright?' She asked absentmindedly as she knelt down to examine him further, and the Empress replied "don't ask stupid questions you know-nothing bitch. Now, give my friend's broken-in balls a good cleaning."

The smell of him hit her, and the hard-on she'd long wanted to cradle between her lips was finally within their curled embrace. It tasted... sweet..."

"Harder! Earn this privilege, Malcadore!!!" The Empress commanded as she bucked into Brahm al-Khadour again, and his belly swelled double the size, so gravid that the bulge touched the floor. Again, Kya San-Weia went with the command unthinkingly, and gulped down an absurd load of her own, her sloppy, semen-stained dick wagging between her legs like the tail of an overexcited dog.

The slightest taste of it, and Kya San-Weia knew why her master was undone. A scream of joy and horror and fear and pleasure and all-consuming, profound neediness welled up in her own throat as she started bobbing on his deflated dick, merrily gulping down his splooge as the future Lord of Terra thrust away merrily.

Feel free to clap.

}:)

Not going to be absolute about this but, in general, I'm not likely to be all too active till June. So, this is your heads-up that the Subreddit'll be going a quiet for a bit. See you lot when I come back!!!

Arousal was a terrible thing in every sense of the word.

The rapid beat of his heart drowned out his thoughts, and the Sigillite's smooth, flush skin shuddered as-

Stop.

His body still moved, in spite of the thought, still so silent amidst the raging storm of his passions.

STOP!!!

His flesh started to still. Brahm al-Khadour felt his trembling to obey, in spite of the wantonness that threatened to drown him.

"STOP!!!" The words came out of his throat this time, charged with power and authority. With it came awareness, and with awareness, came the sensation of the lady-lord's massive cock nestled between his dainty butt-cheeks like a sausage upon a hotdog bun. He had his wits, though, the delightful tinging of his matter and the glee of his mind still animated him.

"That's cute, boy." Arcadia's Mistress said as she gave him a light slap on the ass. A shiver raced down his spine and a shot of jizz burst from his dangly, shrunken genitals. The sensation was a hot poker run through his heart, and a thunderstorm in his mind. He became erect. He became so warp-damned erect!!!

Stupid proper words. I need some fucky-wucky! Were the thoughts of the man-whore, mixed in with - why did I get soft? How long did I black out?

Deep, throaty pants kept rushing out of his lungs. Brahm al-Khadour needed to screw the bitch like how a fire must combust.

This part was always torture. It was a war within his being. So many faucets of the Sigillite grappled and scratched and strangled one another. All for what? A moment of physical relief? A jolt of psychological satisfaction? The person Brahm al-Khadour had become filled his waking mind with disgust, and that disgust engorged his lovey-bits to bursting.

A force struck his back, and he tumbled over the soft coverings onto his back, staring up at the lady-lord, whose eyes narrowed with piqued interest.

"You're serious about resisting me?" She said incredulously.

"If I forget myself, then Brahm al-Khadour will die. I cannot die. The Sigillites must live on."

Those words slipped out of his lips far too easy. Far, far, far too easy for all the blame to lay at his feet. Like a bucket of cold - or warm - water thrown upon him, Brahm al-Khadour realized at that moment the gravity of the woman's psychically bolstered charisma.

It had never occurred to him that anyone could rival his power. It would never occur to him that anyone could surpass the blazing star of supernatural power that glowed radiantly before his watering eyes.

"Erda barely needed to do anything to occupy the ruins of your holdings upon the Himalayas of old. Your order is dead, and you are a living-ghost animated by responsibility and a willpower of such potency that it can weather my own."

The woman paused.

"To a point, anyways."

Then she smiled, waving a hand over her crotch, and replacing her penis with a pussy.

"I do not need your pity!" He said.

"And you are not receiving it." She replied. "My name is Neoth, but this world shall know me as its Empress, and I have need of one of our kind who can be relied upon, who truly loves Terra, and whose spirit is strong enough to do what must be done."

Brahm al-Khadour stood, his breaths long and drawn out, like the last few huffs of air a dying man would take.

"I deny you." He said.

"You don't. You're terrified."

She put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned down towards his face. He felt her warm breath upon his face, and shuddered as his dick brushed against her thick thighs. Everything seemed to shake as she opened her mouth one more time, and uttered the words that would seal his fate.

"Deny me or not, my power surmounts you. Distrust me or not, I shall deliver the future. Dick me or not, you have been claimed. Decide, or do not, I have made the choice for you."

She did.

She really, really did

Neoth

Brahm al-Khadour choked.

She was in his head.

More.

More than that.

"By the warp... by the warp..." he choked out breathlessly, before being silenced with a kiss, and falling limply into her strong arms.

Neoth burned beneath him. His passions, tempered, had detonated with the force of a sun. He shut his eyes tightly, and Brahm al-Khadour could see naught but her. The sounds of them sucking face roared in his ears like a waterfall. The heat and grace of her flesh was a world unto itself that Brahm al-Khadour had landed upon, and would never leave hereafter.

Just like that?

She broke the kiss, a line of spittle drawn between their tongues. She had the cutest blush on her own face, a smile upon her lips, and a light in her eyes that would never be extinguished.

"You're Malcadore now, okay, my Sigillite?"

What happened next happened on pure, primal instinct. He slapped his hands against her ass - which was level with his torso, and relished the squeal that came from her lips. It didn't matter if it was an act or not. He savored the gift he granted unto her flesh, and steeled himself for more mischief.

"Do not go gently into that good night..." he said with a sing-song tune as he bent space and slipped through her fingers, trailing through the warp till he was behind her bottom. A single, playful push and she was in a downward-dog position, her oversized booty perfectly aligned with his prick.

"...rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

There being no way out of this was no reason to give in. Neoth had claimed the Sigillite, yes, but it was up to him to make that sentiment mean something. And, if nothing else, he could still claim her all for himself...

Despite the size disparity, in the moment before he thrust into Neoth's pussy, he found his over engorged hog was a match for the maiden's juicy peach.

*SHHHHHLLLLUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPP!!!*

It was a touch of Heaven on Earth.

As the Perpetual started bucking his hips, he felt her squeeze him teasingly, at first, before buckling ever so slightly. She moaned like an animal in heat as he ran her through midway before bucking back, the wrenching gurgle of their sex a pleasant backdrop to the pair's primal cries of pleasure.

"Shit.... ngh! Ghhhh... mhmn-g-ghhhh!!! So big..." she muttered, back muscles tensing with the grace of a Greek Goddess as the Sigillite wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her lower half.

"Mmmmhhhmmmmm... Good bitch. Get bred!"

Then came the rabbit-action. Neoth 'oooooh'd and 'aaaaaah'd lewdly as her body shook from the force of the living fuck-machine latched onto her backside. The cacophonic *PLAP!PLAP!PLAP!PLAP!PLAP!*'ing shook the walls, such was the might of it. For one so bold, her innards felt so soft, warm and gooey that the younger psyker thought he'd melt into it. And, in turn, he hoped with all his heart that the roughness of his indomitable Sigillite dick was catching her equally off-guard.

"Ghhuu-huuhuuhhhh-hoooooooooooo!!! Oooouuguhhghhhhhh!!! Ooooohhhhh ffffuuuuuuuuuuck!!!" she cried out, throwing her back out to catch his every hump, a desperate need to her candor that the Sigillite had recognized in his own. Whatever they were outside of this room, the only thing that mattered inside was cumming their warp-damned brains out!!!

"You absolute....*huff*... insatiable... *huff*... licentious... *huff*... vixen!!! Take... my... coooooooooock!!!"

"Mmmmn'yesssss!! Pump me full Malcy!!!"

Neoth clenched, and he knew she'd cum.

"I wanna taste you in my baby maker you big-dick breeding stud!!!!"

As she did, he knew he'd follow shortly behind her. The full weight of Mankind's future ruler was too much for any save the Gods to endure. Both their backs arched violently backwards in synch as a thick, fat load churned forth from the balls of the Sigillite, with Neoth's pussy eagerly sipping it up. The impossible want to breed her was so overwhelming, his hips kept bucking despite the ego-death the orgasm was coaxing him towards. *SSSPPPLUUUUUURRRRTTTTT!!!!* went the best cum-dump of his like, and the way she shuddered and shook beneath his body was comfort enough in the face of the unstoppable current that had swept his fate unto unclear waters.

*SHUURRPPP!!!*

He filled her womb

*SHUURRPPP!!!*

A little more

*SHUURRPPP!!!*

THEN Emptied out.

And so he felt the humble jizz-bump of her distended womb pressed through her stomach and deform her abs, his wandering hands caressing it tenderly.

She deserved his seed to take root.

There was nothing the Sigillite wouldn't do to make that dream a reality.

"To think..." he began to utter, before falling silent. Strength left him, and sleep would've claimed him as he gingerly embraced Neoth's backside if she didn't bump him off with her booty and twist around, planting a foot upon her tummy, grinning as one hand reached down to him in an offering gesture, while the other rubbed her tummy in circles.

"Our likes have better means of communicating than words Even so, I want to hear you say it..."

The weight on his chest was playful, if form. The outcome had been decided long before they'd met.

"Whip your dick out already, idiot." He said, his red blush so vivid it glowed in the moody lighting. "Malcadore, your Sigillite, accepts your hand and offers you all he has in turn."

Their fingers twisted against one another, before locking.

"I will never allow you to regret this." Neoth promised, tears in her eyes, before the moment passed, and both their appetites took hold once more amidst the thunderous footfalls of his troops storming the Orgia ball-room, to the cries of its attendees.

"It seems I made a mistake, my lady..." Malcadore mused, before giving a bratty smirk. "I suppose penance must now be paid?"

She nodded, and the thought of what would come next already had him making a mess of himself.

Where were you all my life, Neoth? He thought as he melted away into a nirvana of bodily bliss.

The roars of the Daemon Prince were a sweetness that Brahm al-Khadour could never have imagined.

*THWAP! THWAP! THWAP THWAP! THWAP!*

His torso slapped musically against her raised rear as he plowed into the Godslayer's pussy with rhythmic, thoughtful thrusts. The Daemonic cunt sucked him in ravenously, yet, dainty as his build had slimmed to, his hips packed enough power to make that oversized ass jiggle and shake with every lunge into her sopping wet fanny.

"Say it again..." Brahm al-Khadour prodded the Daemon. "Say you wanted this..."

"Ghhhrrrrrrrrrrrr.... GRRUUUHRAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!!"

The Neverborn beast could not respond intelligently. Its tail wrapped around Brahm al-Khadour's chest, reeling in the Sigillite tight as he kissed the spot juuuuuust above where her buttcrack ended. A fresh spray of glowing, volcanic juices spurted from her vagina and painted his legs orange. For a moment, he thought she might lose her balance even.

"A little lower, wench!" Brahm al-Khadour commanded, and sucked in a cooing breath of relief as he got to know what the kiss of a cervix felt like upon his virgin prick. The Daemon Prince's behind practically vibrated as it sunk down as far as it could do, a torrent of juices passing by Brahm al-Khadour's cock and balls as she came yet again.

That was his cue to bully her innards a bit more.

Godslayer was in a desperate squatting position, her talon-tipped feet digging desperately into the ground as her bent knees shook, and her hips twerked before Brahm al-Khadour's daring bit of fuckery. Her sword was also buried halfway into the ground, the blade held tightly for stability in a double-handed grip, the earth rumbling as the force of Brahm al-Khadour's thrusts transferred from Godslayer into the ground.

Drool ran down Godslayer's opened maw as her wings did impotent half-flaps to keep herself semi-stable. *SLAP!!!* The wings shook violently to keep her upright as he carried his hand with enough telekinetic force to pulverize the side of a mountain, leaving a bashful red imprint upon her scarred, leathery grey booty hide.

"That's it... yes... show me the gravity of the situation..." the words slid out of his mouth, yet, they weren't the sort of words he wanted to say. Brahm al-Khadour's discipline ran too deep. His indomitability was as obstinate an obstacle for the plans of Chaos as it was for his own pleasure. He'd made the decision without regret; to fly close enough to the sun that he'd orbit around it, rather than crashing into its depths. There was no fleeing this. And so, if this was how things must be, why not do as the Daemon did?

It still surprised him that his manhood lingered, despite that being his intent. Focus his sum psychic power into his prick, and ride this out in the pleasurable sense of the word. Only after it was done did he understand a measure of the new metaphysics the ongoing Paradigm Shift had introduced to the Sea of Souls. His masculinity - all of it - was now condensed into a supernova of sexual power between his legs. Whatever effect this had on his psychic potential was negligible. The effect it had on Godslayer?

Devastating.

Devastating for her pussy. Brahm al-Khadour thought as he felt the immense power in his genitalia beating like a heart, with flashes of warmth and bliss pulsating through every fiber of his being. His balls were soooooooooo fulll, his dick was sooooooooo big, and a ratty, rutting instinct had taken ahold of him.

"I'm pulling out my dear. Do brace those thick thighs of yours. I want to savor their trembling."

Brahm al-Khadour grinned, giving her a moment's reprieve. Those legs of hers settled, and the second they did, he bucked his hips back and ripped his way out of her nethers with an uproarious *SHRRRPPP!!!!*

"BhhyaackkkK! UUUughhmnnnnn! Pyut igh bhhyyaaaacckkkk!!!!!" The Daemoness slurred, her butt wiggling desperately for his just out-of-reach dick. Her pussy was a quivering waterfall, and those firm grey cheeks were clapping like thunder in their enticing efforts to taste his manhood again.

"Banish your forces." Brahm al-Khadour asked calmly.

A chill wind blew past him.

That's it? I expected more... though... hehehehe... I can get 'more' out of this bitch, that's for sure!

The thought lit a fire in him, and he easily slipped out of the Daemon's meek tail-binding, taking several steps around to her front, where he admired those infernal udders of hers.

"You were right. I do enjoy this!"

*SLAP!!!*

Brahm al-Khadour struck her steely abs firmly, bringing his sweat slicken palm up to his face and licking her orange secretions off of his hand. It had some saltiness to it, yes, but there was a subtle spice to it as well. And a sweetness, rich enough to make a man sick.

He brought his head to her abs and narrowed his lips into an O shape. Then came his tongue, lashing out in all directions wildly, sluuuuuuurping up the sulfur-smelling liquid exertion that seeped from her leathery daemonic flesh.

Brahm al-Khadour's hand instantly went between his legs, tugging on his hard-on double-handed, feeling his soft, waifish, womanly fingers bringing heaven to his monster dong as they slid frictionlessly up and down his full length.

*FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP-FAP!!!!!!*

"Nnghghguu! N-n-nghhoooooo! Nuhh-nyoooughh!!! Give! to! Puuuussshshhheeeiiyyyy!!!"

So much fear from the threat of spilling his seed outside of her.

Were this a trap, it was well-acted.

Yet, Brahm al-Khadour now knew otherwise. The saving grace of perversion was the ability to clock it in others. He saw a bitch that needed breeding, and was more than happy to be the stud for the job!

"Keep your legs spread. Put your hands to both side of your waist, pointing down... pointing to your pussy... yes, yes. like that"

She did as ordered, squirming fretfully as her hips bucked in-place with the need for ravishment. Her tongue unfurled from her maw and extended down between her breasts, its tip too angled towards her crotch.

Brahm al-Khadour law down beneath her, penis angled up, hands behind his head in a lazy resting position. He closed his eyes and bade the daemon "put in the work, if you want your reward"

*THWAP! THWAP! THWAP THWAP! THWAP!*

Many times over, her knees bent till her cunt kissed his dick, before raising up, trembling with fatigue and pleasure alike, before lowering down anew. Brahm al-Khadour's body tingled, and pre-cum coated his cockhead at the warm sloppy embraces of that daemonic fuckbox. He felt the beat in his bollocks pick up its pace and, one last time, she squatted down on his prick, before finally loosing her balance.

Seeing that bastion of strength fall, feeling her sturdy heft fall upon his body, experiencing the sensation of punching past her cervix with that final thrust and penetrating so deep his dick made it inside her womb... it was surreal, it was sexy, and it was well-worth his first semen-spurt.

The cartoon-physics of so completely penetrating her privates, Brahm al-Khadour narrowed his eyes as his mind was engulphed in ecstasy, a dry, drawn out "kkyyyyyyhhhhaaaaahhhhh!" squeaking past his lips. It was unbidden, and it turned him on even further just what a fuckable lump of meat he'd become!!!

Far more fuckable than that arrogant Daemon Princess, he concluded, his hips strained to the extreme as they forced gallon after gallon of cum past his privates and *SPUUUUUUURRRRTTTT!!!!*ing into her naughty depths.

A sense of absolute contentment overtook him, and it was at that moment his mind wandered away from the memory of his last day as a respectable human being, before his secret, sexy shame had turned his mind to mush and instinct alone propelled him into the future: his instincts as a Sigillite, and his instincts as a slut, locked in an impasse his true feelings could not be free from.

What were those feelings?

What did he truly want?

What came next when the haze lifted over his mind?

That, he looked forwards to immensely...

***

"That's the spot. Keep munching my carpet you Albyan bitch!"

Kya-San Weia had been given permission. That meant she would fuck. There was no malice behind what was undoubtedly a misconstrue of the Sigillite's orders. It was pure, animal reaction. That, Brahm al-Khadour would forgive, for she had not even a single thought in her mind that forgiveness would be needed!!!

The crotch plate of her Hunting Rig was parted, and she had a handful of the Albyan's hair, using it like a leash as she guided her prying tongue up her thigh and into her folds. The dancing tip of Dausen's tongue was such a splendid experience, it made her forlorn to think their time together was short.

""Nnghhhh!!! Yessssss! Nibble my clit! Uuhghhh... ooooohhhh fuuuuuuuuuuccckkkKk!!! Huff huff huff huff huff! MMnnngh-ooooooooohhhhhh yeeeeaaaahhhhh! Ah Ah Ah Ah AH!!!!!!"

She squirmed, she dribbled, and she came all over Dausen's face, painting that pretty white alabaster skin with her cloudy, teal-tinged love-juices - a byproduct of her Hunting Rig upon her physiology.

The things her armor did to her... wet dreams had never felt so good, and never would again when the time came to doff the gift of Brahm al-Khadour.

Kya-San Weia gasped for air and took a few steps backwards, her quivering, shivvering thighs struggling to stand to attention.

"Not... bad..." she managed to say, before a queer gurgle came from her crotch, and seconds later a cock shot out from her nethers.

"Now... polish my girl-dick... you posh little nob-polisher!!!"

Brahm al-Khadour had promised to discover why she'd been born with this mutation. When she was little, the trauma of how people had treated her... it had been all she'd ever cared about!!!

But then she grew up.

And she realized a sordid, simple truth.

Her hermaphroditic ass loved the feeling of a girl's touch upon her swollen, fat phallus.

Boobs, butt, pussy, thighs, lips, and especially the tongue. Feeling that roguish trader lash her balls to shaft to the very tippy-top was more pleasant than words could do justice to.

"Mmm... that's.... that it! Keep that up, and I'll make that double-stuffing the boys gave your bottom look like a bunch of needle-dicked lovetaps!!!"

Kya-San Weiya didn't even really know what that was supposed to mean.

It got the broad bobbing on her.

And that was what was important.

...

...up until she noticed it. The Sigillite's mind visiting hers...

....

...Brahm al-Khadour....

....

There was no response to her thought. And so, she let out a devastated sigh, tore off the loving pair of lips from her penis with a wet *POP!* and flexed the wings of her Hunting-Rig.

Some serious shit was going down where he was.

Which meant she and her comrades could take a crack at that Lady-Lord cunt.

Figuratively and literally.

Or maybe he'll break me for my impudence... she dared think as she swooped down to her troops, knowing that, win or lose, a battle was going to break out, and they'd all be in for the lay of their lives...

Brahm al-Khadour came-to behind one of the velvet curtained sections that ran along the outline of the Orgia-Gala's festive chamber. He lay nude upon a jumble of silk sheets, his body cleaned and doused with fragrant perfumes. Upon a table next to the semi-circle of silk-draped leather cushioning he laid upon was the Man of Iron he'd added to his long list of lays. The fresh sexual conquest was twitching and sparking, coolant leaking from joints and a slurry of manufactured pussy juice and stinking semen seeping out of her... its... crotch.

It. That thing was an 'it'... Brahm al-Khadour had to remind himself. It was so easy to lose sight of what was important when that lurid, primitive instinct in the back of his head was roused. Looking down at his erect member, he knew it would take much for that arousal to be abated. The best he could hope for was controlling it, directing it, and ensuring whatever folly he entertained would not bring harm to his order.

Malcadore... the voice of Godslayer rang in his ears, and his erection tensed up, the veins of his prodigious fuckmeat bulging as blood and semen and psychic serum coursed throughout the thick organ. The veins - from shaft to scrotum - steadily took on a glowing purple hue as his discipline was taxed by his vigorousness this day, and power from the Sea of Souls begged to course through and out of the bulbous head of his pulsating prick.

Flames of incensed passion licked at his thought. The heat, the excitement, the novelty; sex never disappointed him ever since it found its way into his heart, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He'd give anything to turn back the clock, yet, what was done could not be undone.

He shook his hips slightly, straining his erection, and let a smile crease his lips as his penis flopped up and down in a manner that reminded him of a dog wagging its tail.

Malcadore... Godslayer's voice kept clawing at him.

"I'm so fucking hard right now" he said with a muted fascination. The sort of tenor a detective would take after stumbling upon a particularly creative and especially gruesome murder scene. His hands fastened themselves to the base of his shaft and he manspread his legs wide, his eyes locking onto the bosom of the Man of Iron as he began jerking himself with reckless abandon. His butt bucked and hips thrust impatiently as he jerked with the vigor of an adolescent teen, his mind stuck on Godslayer's perfectly buxom, brutish figure as he yanked it without a care in the world.

"Come on you worthless manslut. if you're going to disgrace the order... grhhhghhghh... d-do it... with... ahhaaapllooooohhh-"

His voice trailed off as his lips curled further into a sucking o-face, a spittle of semen staining his frantic hands. Now they moved thoroughly from bottom to the top of his shaft, slick despite the deadman's grip he had on his prodigiousness. The roughness of his meat against the soft texture of his hands was heaven and earth swirling from the bottom of his body into the nooks and crannies of his mind. Drool threatened to trail down his gasping O position mouth as desperate "huuhuohoogoh-ghhoooo" gurgle-groans sounded off on a loop from his throat, growing lighter and squeakier in pitch every step of the way.

It felt so good. Being a useless jerkoff monkey felt indescribable! A volcanic ache seized Brahm al-Khadour's heart, and he couldn't help but wonder what new bliss would be visited upon him if he dared let a tongue lash his puffy, petite nipples, or a long, thick, pillaging phallus ruin his virgin anus.

His long, silky white hair waved up and down like a streaming flag of surrender to the pleasure as his legs trembled, and his pace quickened. Up, down, up, down. So good! So good! Soooooo goooooood! He thought, bucking his body like the bitch he knew deep-down he was. The truth he couldn't escape. The secret behind his survival of that terrible day.

In the gleam of the Man of Iron's emerald eyes, he saw himself. He saw how little of 'himself' survived that day. Of what he 'truly' was beneath the robes and without the taxing, concentrated effort it took to obscure his appearance with illusions and biomancy. His dick veins flashed with purple-tinged powers as those thick veins channeled psychic power from his warp-filled sack, which itself was swollen like an overripe fruit. How the FUCK had he not broken in this bitch-boy body yet? How had he DARED keep his shame to himself? What right, what insipid excuse, did he toil night and day to keep in the forefront of his mind, so he'd no share the blessings of his beautiful self with the rest of the world? With the galaxy? With what lay beyond the veil? It consumed him, it ached so bad. SO FUCKING BAD!!!

His tongue shot out of his mouth as a feminine moan left his lips. The apex of his indulgence was upon him. His body shuddered as his veins - dick to balls - literally PULSED with erotic POWER!!!

"Kyyaaaahhhh!!!" He squealed as the first thick rope of lavender jizz pumped out of his prick, his hands slipping and sliding down his shaft like soapy sudsy hands clumsily working a bottle. "Uuaahhhh-ohhh-eiyyahahahaaaaaaaaa!!!" He laughed, giving his reflection bedroom-eyes as he watched his lithe, smooth, sweat-soaked feminine shape twist and turn impotently as his manhood took charge, spewing out spouge with reckless abandon.

I'm such a slut! I'm such a silly slut! Tee-hee-heeee... keep cumming you stupid, sloppy slut!!! Brahm al-Khadour thought, smiling a lurid U - shaped smile as his eyes narrowed predatorily on his cock. His best feature. His sole, saving grace. It felt indescribable. Surrendering to sex was oh so wonderfully sweeeeeeeeeet!!!!

"Yahhhhahaaaaa!!! Ahhh! Ohhhh! Kkkkkiiyoooh-h-h-hooooooooooo!!!"

His whole body arced backwards one final time, tongue and eyes pointed straight at the ceiling as his long hair flipped in a wide arc, and he painted the roof with his powerful, petulant seed. The worst part... yes...the worst part was how little clarity came after the act. The moment he finished emptying himself, his balls filled back up. That big, mountainous erection went semi-solid and floppy for a few moments, but its size did not shrink, and when it was ready again it was bigger than before.

His butt shook on its own, the groomed, unsullied rosebud of his ass clenched so tightly it burnt. If anything was to break through, if the perky nips upon his smooth, shapely pecs were to be ravished, what then? Not even Brahm al-Khadour's himself could say?

The Sigillite slumped on his back back into the silken sheets. He was no lesser man. Even in this state, he understood how compromised he was. Not even drunken lustfulness could make him break the ironclad rules he'd set for himself so long ago. Yet restraint was at an end. Satiation beckoned him forth. He'd drink in the partygoers and iron abominations till his bottomless thirst was quenched.

Or so he thought.

Clapping.

"Bravo! You, sir, have the body of a harlot yet the bottom of a beast. I look forwards to what comes next."

Behind him. The other end of the furnished alcove where the silk-clad leather furnishings his the wall. He twisted around like an otter in water and saw-

*BAM!!!*

Brahm al-Khadour froze.

It was a nightmare come true.

His perfect woman.

"How-" his mouth moved through the momentum of sheer surprise.

"All people have their limits, kinsman. Save me. I am without such fetters..." Said the woman in a sultry baritone, feminine yet filled with a masculine, aggressive, imperious power. It was a stark contrast to the fretful squeak that had left his lips seconds earlier.

"I'm more interested in you though, Sigillite." She went on to say. "There's a word the folks of the Far-East had that'd describe you to a T, but for the life of me I don't care to utter it. So much manly spunk down between your legs, yet, so little elsewhere. Did you pour yourself into your crotch? Did you focus all your juvenile understanding of sex into a razor-sharp 'tip'? No muscles, no rough skin or body hair, no gravel in your voice or restraint in that emptied head of yours. It's the other way around for you, I can feel it. That head down below is the 'real' decision maker. It's just too broken to resist the head on your shoulders - the voice of 'reason'."

Anger flared in Brahm al-Khadour. Statuesque, bold, insightful, the way she was looking down on him made his heart pound. The lady-lord was worthy of his respect, that was to be sure, but respect never found its way into his heart when his inner ugliness overtook him.

The Sigillite flashed a cocky smile of his own.

"My bitch-breaker is enough for you." He hissed. "Thank you, truly. Nothing excites me more than meeting a soul worthy of respect and twisting them like I was. Now bend over, whore."

A black brow raised on the lady-lord's tan-skinned face as she slid down into a seated position, slumped her back against the wall, and spread her slutty legs in invi-

Oh. Fuck me.

Brahm al-Khadour's eyes went wide. He felt that accursed phenomenon seize him. It happened to many a slut he'd shagged, and a few times to himself on prior occasions. Glowing pink, he felt his pupils burn as they distorted into a heart-shape that overtook his eyes, as drool wafted down his mouth at the sight of her rough, rigid, robust third-leg.

"You first, femboy."

"You cannot escape me... Malcadore!"

The Sigillite was hiding in a hole, waiting to die.

More exactly, he'd crammed himself into a rocky alcove and laid as flat and still as he could within its embrace. Charged as the damned canyon was with the energies of the warp, it hid him well, even from the creature the inhabitants of the canyon had beckoned forth from parts unknown.

There is no submission. Brahm al-Khadour reminded himself as his eyes dared scan for comrades. None. He heard them battling in the distance, saw flashes out the corner of his vision, yet by the hiding-hole not a soul stirred. Only the sands, stirred by the winds.

There is no submission... I am a Sigillite! I will stand and face this darkness. I will defy it! To the last, to the death, to the pain - it has no hold over me!!!

Brahm al-Khadour had no intention of leaving this spot. He could remain hidden if he so wished. Amongst the Sigillites, he'd garnered a reputation for himself in his younger years as an assassin when one was needed. Immortality offered the opportunity to learn a very particular set of skills, and he spent that time well indeed.

So long as he remained where he was, he would not be found.

So long as he remained unfound, he would survive.

So long as he survived, Chaos would taste defeat... eventually.

...there is no submission. Brahm al-Khadour repeated. Over and over again he carved those words into his mind.

His comrades would understand. Nay, they certainly 'did' understand. Something had... happened. The immaterium itself was writhing as some new force ravished it mercilessly, stirring the sea of souls into a conceptual maelstrom. Brahm al-Khadour remembered Slaanesh's birth, as well as the aftermath of that dark day. This felt kin to it, and yet, so much worse.

If one of the dark powers were to birth itself upon Terra...

The thought was too great and terrible to humor.

"It comes, Malcadore!" Screamed the daemon prince as the wingbeats of that great beast stirred the sands around the empty spot of canyon in a fashion reminiscent of the chaos unfold in the warp. Then, at once, the grains settled after once last whirl of movement, as the Daemon Prince plummeted down to earth and cracked the ground beneath her talon-tipped feet where she landed.

It let out a roar, and the devil's luminescent yellow-green eyes began to survey the empty patch of canyon for her quarry.

I cannot move... the thought impressed itself so deeply into Brahm al-Khadour's awareness that it felt nailed into his head. It will not see me if I remain still. If I move, we will fight, and then...

The Sigillite was a powerful psyker, and famed throughout his order as an unparalleled murderer.
It was not the prospect of a fight that rattled him.

"Fine, is it not? This 'female' form. Their gift to my, our destined mistress; My Dark King."

Steady breaths was all Brahm al-Khadour could manage. Something was attempting to get purchase within them. No opening would be tolerated. Everything was blanked as the muscular grey-hide monster stalked the canyon for the Sigillite.

"You would not believe how long I have waited for this opportunity, Sigillite. Be'lakor sought once to make me his champion. He still believes he can become a God, while I know the truth. The truth that God is but a title. I slew a god while I was but a mortal; I denied its energies to Be'lakor and offered it up in tribute to the Ruinous Powers, and for that, the power of Chaos Undivided descended upon me. My power, my accolated That is the truth. Only those who can achieve greatness by their own merit deserve the boons of the empyrean. You too, Malcadore, deserve these boons..."

Brahm al-Khadour could not fall to Chaos. They understood it too well. Their mind was incapable of succumbing to the temptation the Primordial Annihilator used to ensure so many heroes and monsters throughout this forsaken galaxy.

Yet the words of the Daemon Prince did achieve a reaction of sorts.

As the Sigillite watched the musclebound behemoth plod around him, he saw in close detail the fine definition of her biceps and thighs and shredded abdominals. The imposing predatory beauty of her horns and teeth and claws were paradoxically majestic; much as her hissing, regal voice was.

Every now and then, the flimsy excuse of a loincloth upon her waist would be blown aside enough for her crotch to meet his gaze. It felt strange to see female genitalia upon a daemon. It felt stranger to watch glowing infernal juices run down her leg, the stuff of the same color and furor as the burning star of Chaos carved between her breasts. When she turned her back to him, he saw that firm behind giggle with every step. More than that, nothing clad it. Her crack was presented to the world in all its glory and, were she to spread her cheeks even slightly, that Daemon's anus would bore a hole deep into a part of Brahm al-Khadour that the Sigillite never wanted to see the light of day.

A warmth engulphed his manhood. Something was not right there. Brahm al-Khadour didn't understand quite what though?

"They love you, even now. Your fate was set, yet, a good mistress does what she can for her favorite toys. Far across the cosmos, the one who shall own your soul has achieved a great feat. Such feats make waves in the warp, as well you know. My comrade Samus rode one such wave to seed his birth, and now I do the same for the only God worthy of my dedication. All for you, Malcadore. All for you..."

The daemon stopped.

It twitched violently.

"Nnngghghhhhhhhh!!! Brhhrhhahaaaaaaa!!!!" It let out a roar that echoed through the canyon as it stabbed its flaming sword into the ground. then stumbled backwards drunkenly as its shaky hands released their grip on the weapon. Beads of fiery orange sweat were fermenting on the creature, as if it'd been taken by fever. It panted and panted and panted, braying like a beast, thick steamy puffs of breath leaving its mouth in the wake of every devilish cry into the night.

"I am the reward," it said between ragged breaths.

*pant*-*pant*-*pant*

"I smell your arousal. Your body betrays you."

Brahm al-Khadour could not afford themself the luxury of a reaction.

"It is... inevitable. It is the way... of this... epoch! Shhhkkkrrraaaaghhhhh!!!!! I feel it! Ruin! I... I... I..."

The daemon's eyes looked like they grey three sizes as their long tongue drooped out of their maw.

"Ruin me".

Her tail swayed side to side excitedly as she kneeled on the ground, then parted her legs, her hips gyrating wildly as a lava-flow of lady juices flooded down her thighs.

"This... 'wicked' pussy guides me! I hear the call of my carnal instincts! My blessed womanhood! I obey, Dark King, I oooobbbeeeeeyyyyy!!!!" She roared, her brassy cry simmering down to a moan as one hand tore the leather belt that held her loincloth from her hips, and the other dug three claws deep into her moist insides. Fire rained down on the sands below her and turned the canyon floor to glass as she mixed herself up with her digits, cooing as the shuffle of fingers bobbed in and out of her cooch.

"I would be your slave, had you the balls to claim me!!!" She roared jarringly, before moans filled the slut's mouth again. Daemonic-dew condensed atop the bitch's nipples, and her chest heaved heavy as her groin trembled beneath her powerful fingers. her tail slammed and squirmed against the ground as small wing-flaps accompanied the slightest scrape of her talons against her maiden walls. A little too much pressure a little too deep and a little too eagerly, and the Daemon Prince's back arched and she doubled over onto her back.

"nothing can stop this!" She roared upon the reprieve. "Know what is coming, Sigillite! Being a slave to darkness has been nothing compared to being a slave to..."

She hesitated, before rolling onto her hands and knees, bringing her torso low to the ground like a predator about to pounce, while her butt sailed up into the air and wiggled impatiently.

"...love," she finished.

It was then, as her bountiful backside was aimed in his general direction, that he noticed the discordant clenching of her pelvic muscles. Those engorged, inflamed, burning pussy lips were twitching at a hectic pace before clenching hard... very hard... too hard for any creature to keep up for long.

"Nnngh.. it is.... aaaahhahhhhahhhhh... see, Malcadore, see the nightmare of nightmares!!!"

Somehow, that clenching pussy was only winding itself up more and more, her knees and butt shaking as the air around her caught fire.

"NNNNmmmmmggghhnnnnnn.... mgh... nnnnmmmggnn.... n-nghhuugh..."

Her tail whipped back and forth rapidly, whipcracks filling the air. Her wings beat strong and the land fractured before the strength of her many claws. First a trickle, then a spurt, and finally a long, lewd squirt of juices all over the canyon floor.

"Nhhguuuuu!!!!!!!"Squealed the daemon prince as she bucked her hips at every unstoppable wave of delight "UUghuuuu! Ugh! Ugh! Ummph! Unnnuughhhuuuu!!!" She continued, little in the way of intelligent sounds leaving her mouth as burning bliss engulphed her mind.

"Pussy! Nnugughuuuuhghhghgh! See how mighty Godslayer cuuuuummmmssss!!! Nughgu nghuu uuuooouuugguhuhuhuuuuu!!! Godslayer's pussy makes her such a bitch! Godslayer's pussy makes her feel... so... gooooooooooood! Uuuguhuhuhouououuuuuuu!!!!"

It was at that moment that, just as Godslayer promised, the shape of things to come burnt its way into Brahm al-Khadour's being.

His crotch felt wet and sticky and full like never before.

Sweat soaked his robes.

Breath came short and ragged.

Such power... laid so low... so very, very low... and all it took was the mating instinct of that wet box between Godslayer's legs...

It was a kindness that the Sigillite was woken back up before he remembered the rest of his folly...