This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons or events are strictly coincidental. This is a work of extreme expansion and transformation kink; if that is not to your liking, close this now. It is also deeply weird; you have been warned. It is also, as you might imagine, sexually explicit. Please do not read if you are a minor in your country.
As a note: This piece is set in the universe of Warhammer 40k. It is a bit of a departure tonally from my usual work. I'm being serious when I say: 'If weird transformations aren't for you, don't read this.'
On the surface, it was an eerie calm after the storm. The kind of stillness that said no survivors remained. Slime, blood, and viscera--all coated by ash--was everywhere. The horrid combination hung off the shattered bulkheads of the Emperor's former fortification, suspending fragments of exploding metalwork and bits of Exemplar soldiers in mid-air. It blanketed inert power armor and dismembered otherworldly horrors in equal measure. Underground, however, in the labyrinth of chambers, tunnels, and reinforced doors, the noise of celebration was deafening.
There was music. There were chants. There was moaning. There was screaming. There was slithering, begging, and pleading. There was the sound of saws. In short, it was a magnificent chorus of hedonism in every sense of the word, taken to the extremes demanded from adherents of the Master of Excess in All Things.
Two such adherents, however, were drawn to a sanctum where a now defiled and ruined fifteen-foot-high statue of the Emperor sat at the head of two columns of what had been pews. Most of the room was decimated. Burned-out armor was strewn about, as were the still-twitching remains of Chaos Spawn sent in first to break through the defensive position.
Against the far wall, the surviving Sisters from the battle had gathered and were still putting up a last, desperate stand by chanting prayers, but it was only a matter of time before their embrace by Chaos. Their physical, skin-to-skin contact with Chaos Spawn meant they were already somewhat under the influence of Slaanesh. That corruption was taking root even as Ecclesiastical mantras tumbled from their mouths in unison.
At the head of the room, to the Sisters' right, two high-ranking Marines knelt before a sublime daemon whose beauty and perfection are almost too much to witness. Already sworn to Chaos, their actions were responsible for the attack's success. Their rewards will be great--and unimaginable.
The two adherents, observing the scene, feel the slightest pangs of regret that they are not only anticipating the outcomes of their one-time Sisters' inevitable downfalls but also feeling nostalgic for when the same thing happened to them.
"Reminds me of when we were blessed," said Irene. Once a beautiful soldier of the Imperium, her form had been warped into one that hinted at daemonic power churning deep within her. Standing over seven feet tall, Irene's short horns ended up putting her closer to her eight. Chaos' influence had turned her burnished bronze skin slate gray and her hair the purest white. Her other mutations had granted her a prehensile tail and a second set of powerful arms that bifurcated at the shoulder.
Irene's beloved, Anna, had experienced a less straightforward embrace. Even now, she remained split between a version of herself wholly corrupted by Chaos and one untouched, unwarped, and otherwise completely innocent. Pure Anna was usually withdrawn, sure that everything occurring around her was some horrid, lurid nightmare to test her undying faith. On the other hand, Corrupted Anna was ever-present except when she deliberately gave control over--or was too caught up in self-pleasure, like now.
"Oh, yes," Pure Anna said, panting as her hands toyed with the swollen lips of the mouths that had replaced her nipples. "I remember our commissioning like it was yesterday--such a proud day for my folks. Well, I assume so anyway--I never did get to ask them."
Where Irene had been reshaped into something inhuman, Anna's body had become something more akin to superhuman. Chaos mutations had brought her to the edge of sexual perfection and then pushed her off into true perversion. After months--or maybe even years--her breasts had become the size of her head, perhaps even bigger. Her nipples which had first become inverted, were eventually been replaced with fat-lipped mouths that could voice either Anna's thoughts. Her hips, also embiggened over multiple transformations, managed to equal her bust for size.
Then there were the mutations brought on by orgies--Anna had participated in too many to count. They repeated exposure to divine levels of pleasure seen her become near inexhaustible and almost insatiable. She was a dream and a nightmare for any who sought her as a partner for carnal pleasures. Only Irene, whose affection had been twisted into an undying sense of devotion deep enough to swallow Anna's appetites, could consistently satisfy her beloved's hypersexual existence.
Irene's tail rose to form a saddle-like shelf, and Anna didn't hesitate to mount and begin to grind against it. Irene's skin might have been tough enough to shrug off small arms fire, but something about her attunement to Anna made physical touch between them... distracting. Not to mention arousing. Irene's other mutation throbbed in sympathy.
"Yes, our commendation ceremony," Irene said, avoiding a direct rebuttal of Pure Anna's interpretation of what was happening. "That's what I was talking about."
"I wonder what happened to our unit sometimes," Anna continued, her gaze off in the middle distance. "I can't remember their names, and their faces aren't clear, but I hope they're doing well."
"They are, I promise." It wasn't a total lie. Sure, many of them had succumbed to Chaos' influence and become Spawn, but two of their sisters-in-arms had succeeded in becoming like them. They were out there, somewhere, not that she wanted to see them again--except maybe to ravage Mara's mouth as thanks for her betrayal.
"That's good," Pure said, patting Irene on one of her lower arms. She was quiet for a moment, listening to the prayers of the Marines. "Can I have a kiss, love?"
Irene complied and bent down to Anna's level. Pure might've asked, but the kiss was definitely from Corrupt. There was a hunger behind the connection that knew no bounds. Driven by that pleasure, Anna's hips moved towards the tip of Irene's tail even as her mouth tried to devour her girlfriend. Irene again anticipated her lover's needs and lifted her to allow them to keep making out while flexing the tip of her tail so that Anna speared herself on it, taking the thick appendage in her ass.
The penetration rushed through Irene and awakened another of her mutations, a cock worthy of a monster of her stature. Already bigger than any reasonable size while soft, it would only grow larger as it stiffened. Out of everything, she appreciated this "gift" from The Prince the most. Countless hours had been spent bonding with Anna at an elemental level as they fucked until the hard-to-reach point of exhaustion.
Pure gasped with something akin to glee as her body shuddered with anticipation in response to the mound swelling behind Irene's tabard. "Oh! You brought the strap I like! The one with all the veins on top..."
