Chapter 105(orphan)
The brood lord and his army of genestealer kin viciously tore the heads off daemonettes as violence filled the body strewn dark streets, hormagaunts laid clutches of eggs on every dead body they could find, and the newborn hormagaunt ripper larva were having a feast.
The genestealer force was currently ripping into it's third straight division of Slaanesh daemons, and still was not too badly mauled in the face of this truly intimidating level of violence.
Tyranid incursions were always shockingly fast and brutal affairs, and this one was no exception, with local daemon forces being savagely destroyed and the civilian body count growing every single second.
Under normal circumstances the multiple divisions of Slaanesh daemons would have easily defeated an entire soul farm full of lowly unguided hormagaunts escaping their cages, but these hormagaunts unfortunately had a brood lord synapse creature to control their actions, plus hundreds of elite genestealer allies, and this was an entirely different and more lethal situation to deal with.
Individually speaking, pure genestealers and first generation genestealer-human hybrids were some of the most peerless close combat fighters in the galaxy, at least for creatures of their size, easily more formidable than the average space marine in hand to hand combat.
HUNDREDS of these genestealers in a combined mass attack was one of the most dangerous close quarters forces imaginable, able to fight off entire divisions of the much more fragile Slaaneshi lesser daemons with ease, at least for a while.
On most planets this rapidly breeding hormagaunt incursion backed up by a mature genestealer cult would mean almost certain death for the planet, but Dark Tropic was not like most planets, and was uniquely defensible against tyranid attacks.
Dark Tropic was a Night World, with barely so much as a photon of visible light outside at any time. Plant growth was absolutely impossible on Dark Tropic except with the use of high technology, and the tyranids as a race were unique in having almost no technology whatsoever.
The brood lord knew this and knew from his brood brother spies how the planet would respond. With the escaping hormagaunts now detected, the planet would be enacting standard rehearsed tyranid containment policy to completely halt the spread of the infestation.
Step one of standard containment policy was to immediately stop all shipments of food or other biomass to the affected island, and to sink every single floating farm within a 300 kilometre radius of the island, dropping all the farm biomass down to the crushing depths of the extremely deep seas of Dark Tropic, deep enough for the pressure to kill even a tyranid attempting to dive down to reach it.
Every boat docked at the island would remain docked until the infestation was ended, air traffic would be highly restricted, and every boat out at sea would be pulled back at least 300 kilometres from the island, preventing the hormagaunts and genestealers from spreading.
Step two was to order all civilians to seek shelter indoors and remain indoors until the all clear was given, locking and barricading every door and other possible entrance, to make it as slow and difficult as possible for the tyranids to get at the biomass inside, thus slowing the growth of the infestation.
Step three was to endlessly completely flood the affected island with summoned daemons from the warp, completely expendable troops whose supernatural bodies contained no biomass that could feed the Tyranid swarm if killed. This would continue until the tyranids were defeated by sheer attrition and starvation.
The brood lord had a problem, but the genestealer cult had been preparing for this for years, and had planned for this.
Vast hidden underground silos contained vast quantities of stored food, years and years of carefully hoarded heavily salted dried fish and seaweed, salted and double salted to the point where even the decay of blessed Nurgle could not rot this food.
Huge warehouses contained stockpiles of everything needed for an invasion, from power generators to vehicles to weapons and supplies. Water canals and desalination machines provided all the swarm needed to drink when eating such salty food.
Even better, this particular genestealer cult had wisely cultivated allies and daemons of their own, allies in the warp who could help them. They had found a chaos god of their own to aid them, the great god Nurgle, lord of biological warfare in all it's most loathsome forms.
The genestealers were VERY loathsome creatures by the accounts of every non-tyranid, putrid disturbing monsters who infected their prey with a terrible parasitic infection as part of the genestealer lifecycle. This had greatly pleased the great Nurgle, and he had blessed them abundantly.
The brood lord surveyed his surroundings through the slightly diseased eyes of every member of the swarm, his infected brain rapidly processing vast amounts of information.
Swirling through the brood lord's heavily psychic brain was the gestalt collective brood-mind, a combined consciousness that encompassed every tyranid in range of a local Tyranid with a synapse organ. The brood mind saw through every member tyranid eye, heard through every ear, smelled and tasted and felt everything in the entire brood, knew all the collective knowledge of every brood member.
The brood mind was nothing like as large as the true hive mind of hive fleet Leviathan, not even close, the hive ships were all out of psychic synapse range, repelled by the chaos hells of the Maelstrom. In the absence of the true hive mind the brood mind would have to suffice.
As mentioned the brood mind knew absolutely everything that the collective individual local tyranids knew, which admittedly wasn't very much. The brood lord himself had been born on one of the hive ships, and had once been privy to the vast ancient knowledge of hive fleet Leviathan, he had formerly known EVERYTHING, or at least what seemed pretty close to everything.
Now the brood lord knew barely a fraction of what he had once known. His individual brain had been too small to store the entire collective knowledge of the hive mind, and the hive mind itself had deliberately erased much of his former knowledge before deploying him onto a space hulk to await prey.
For long years he had stalked the innards of that giant nameless space hulk as it meandered through the warp, with only a few lictors for company. Those had been lonely years, eating the plastic wiring insulation as his only sustenance, frozen almost to death on that freezing cold dead space hulk, kept warm solely by his own plastic diet fuelled metabolism.
For how long he drifted on that hulk he could not say, but at long last his nightmare had been over when the "Triumph of Blasphemy", an iconoclast class destroyer in the service of chaos undivided human heretic pirate scavengers, had docked with the space hulk to loot it for valuables.
The brood lord had discreetly infected hundreds of these human heretics as they looted the space hulk, and these infected humans had then snuck the brood lord and his lictor comrades onboard their ship, hiding them all in one of the cargo holds.
The "Triumph of Blasphemy" had then departed once it's holds were full of loot, and had traveled towards it's home port. But the ship never arrived safely, being instead attacked and crippled by hostile chaos forces of a different warring faction.
The crippled ship had then been boarded by yet more looters, and the tyranids had transferred between ships again.
It had been a long journey from then on, transferring from one ship to another in the endless pointless warfare between the various forces of chaos. How long exactly it was difficult to say, as time moved strangely here, the brood lord may even have traveled backwards in time at some stage, few things made sense in the Maelstrom.
After an eternity of ship hopping, the brood lord and his infected humans had arrived by chance here on Dark Tropic, many many decades back before the Sevenson Night Lords had conquered the planet from it's original former owners, a warband of chaos space marines known as "The Sons of Midnight".
(Author's note, the Sons of Midnight are canon. They were one of the approximately 30 loyalist space marine chapters who fell to chaos in M37 (,the exact year was 37321 AD in case you really wanted to know), during the "Abyssal Crusade" when thirty entire chapters invaded the Eye of Terror. Only one chapter, the Vorpal Swords, retained enough sanity in the maddening chaos hells to remain loyal to the Emperor when they finally escaped fully 800 years later (time moves strangely in the chaos hells). The Sons of Midnight used to be a loyalist chapter called the Star Gryphons. Presumably this renegade chapter by now has at least a few forces in the Maelstrom as well as just the Eye of Terror, hence their former presence on Dark Tropic, I mostly chose them at random for not being Night Lords but having a Night World appropriate name.)
For nearly a century the genestealers on Dark Tropic had been breeding and growing their numbers, preparing for the eventual takeover of the planet on behalf of their hive fleet Leviathan.
This planet would soon become the capital world of a vast genestealer empire, they would capture and conquer every island one by one, hijack every space craft they could find, and then invade the vast orbiting infrastructure. They would capture warp capable ships and infect humans with the knowledge to use them, they would breed up their numbers and then spread to infest every other planet in the entire Maelstrom.
The brood mind currently encompassed slightly over a million tyranids, though this number were mostly ripper larvae of the fast breeding hormagaunts the cult had liberated.
The hormagaunts were rampaging through the city, inflicting as many civilian casualties as possible as the genestealers handled the daemons, and the hormagaunts were laying eggs on every dead body they created, exponentially increasing their numbers.
(BANG BANG BANG!)
The sudden sounds of brutally loud Night Lord bolters assaulted the sensitive ears of the brood mind!
The brood mind felt agonising pain as hundreds of hormagaunts were blown apart from the inside by the explosive penetrator standard issue bolter rounds!
It HURT!
The brood mind felt the screaming agony of it's members internal organs being torn open by the bolt shrapnel!
A collective hiss of pain and rage rippled through the entire brood, the member creatures focused their attention on the creatures causing them pain.
The hormagaunts were the closest to the Night Lords and saw them clearly in the dark.
The darkness was nothing to the tyranid eyes, they saw everything in the bright crimson red hues of infrared heat.
The Night Lords were hugging cover at the corners of buildings and doorway alcoves. They were wearing power armour that was mostly the same temperature as the ambient air, making them slightly harder to see.
The muzzles of their bolters glowed brightly in the infrared spectrum however, as did the heat vents on the backpacks of their power armour.
The space between the Night Lords and the hormagaunts was 300 meters long and filled with cowering civilians blundering around blindly in the dark, the bare skin of the civilians glowed brightly in the infrared spectrum, making them obscure the Night Lords in comparison.
The brood mind directed the hormagaunts to surge forward, using the civilians as cover.
The Night Lords shot straight through the civilians without hesitation!
Heavy bolter and auto cannon fire ripped through the civilians like air, mulching the hormagaunts behind them!
The hormagaunts leaped forward regardless of casualties, they numbered in the thousands and the Night Lords couldn't shoot all of them.
(boom boom boom)
What was that sound?
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
The hormagaunts were blasted to bits in a barrage of heavy ordinance fire!
The brood mind had members who knew what this was, it was "basilisk" heavy artillery fire.
The 300 meter long space was a deliberately prepared kill zone!
The brood mind pulled back the relatively few surviving hormagaunts, this was a trap.
The Night Lords were now almost out of sight of the brood mind, the hormagaunts were fleeing and no one else was observing the Night Lords.
The brood lord and his brood mind were not stupid, they knew that unseen Night Lords were pure death.
A small number of hormagaunts were directed to lurk behind cover to observe the Night Lords as the rest retreated.
The brood lord and his genestealers were now pulling back, shunning the open sky.
Night Lords with flying wings of fire were falling upon the hormagaunt lookouts.
The brood mind hissed in pain as the hormagaunts were ripped apart in close combat, it HURT to have your guts ripped out!
The brood lord and his genestealers were now safely underground in plumbing service tunnels, they were retreating to a safe house to regroup.
The hormagaunts were scattering in all directions now, commanded by the brood mind to escape underground and focus on killing civilians and laying eggs.
The Night Lords were out of view.
The brood mind waited tensely.
The ripper larvae were under attack!
Night Lords with flamers were burning the poor innocent tyranid children alive with gouts of burning liquid!
The brood mind wailed in dismay at the deaths of these infants, what a horrific crime to inflict upon tyranid babies!
More and more of these poor youngsters were burned alive!
Oh the horror!
Monsters in power armour were murdering so many tyranid children!
The rippers fought back, fighting for their lives against these horrible villains.
The daemonettes were now joining the terrible infanticide!
This was a nightmare!
Thousands of larvae were now dead!
The adult members of the brood could not help them, they needed to conserve their numbers until they had time to breed millions of adult hormagaunts.
They would avenge their children, but for now they must flee.
This crime would not be forgotten!
***...
Nurgle worshipping plague zombie woman Mrs Rat Abernathy felt irritated, as she used a knife held by her single remaining limb to remove the genestealer implant from her rotting neck.
Rat's body had been ripped apart by those blasted genestealer thugs, her left arm was the only limb that wasn't bitten off, her abdomen was clawed open and her guts were hanging out. To add insult to injury they had then tried to turn her into a genestealer host!
Rat cut deeply into her neck and worked out the genestealer implant like a splinter. The implant was utterly dead, killed by Rat's decaying flesh, and Rat simply tossed the unwanted dead alien implant away from her like trash.
Rat dragged herself awkwardly across the floor and found her wayward limbs.
Her right arm and both legs were partially eaten, and the floor around these limbs was littered with festering dead rippers who had died instantly from eating her Nurgle infested meat.
Rat used her rusty corroded knife to cut her festering robe into strips, and started stabbing holes through her bleeding limb stumps and the ends of her missing limbs. She also stabbed holes along the slit edges of the hole in her abdomen.
Rat then very awkwardly poked the strips of fabric through these holes and crudely stitched her limbs back on. She then pushed her guts back in and crudely stitched her abdomen closed with crude knots.
Rat lay still for a time, praying fervently to Nurgle to infest her wounds.
Pus and foul fluids wept around her wounds, and vile smelling bacteria instantly began to infest this fluid in a massive foul infection colony.
Rat felt the power of Nurgle flow through her, and she felt the bacteria become one with her flesh, replacing the lost cells and tissues with the bacteria themselves.
Bacteria adhered together in long sticky strands, adhering to severed muscles and bones and connective tissues and nerves and other tissues, taking over the function and anatomy of the lost flesh.
The limbs twisted about into the correct position and then set as bacteria hardened into a foul substance like bone. The muscles twitched as microbial foulness bridged the severed gaps.
Rat's wounds scabbed with a putrid layer of putrid bacterial mats, becoming a disturbing new skin for her.
Rat shambled to her feet, body whole once again, and she had a much needed drink of foul water from the putrid drinking caldron. Rat scraped the thick mould off the numerous festering dead rippers that littered the floor, and greedily ate this mouldy foulness to regain her strength and energy.
She looked around herself at her surroundings.
The soul farm she was in was a charnel pit of death and ruin, littered everywhere with dead rippers and hormagaunts.
Her Nurgle worshipping comrades were ripped to pieces, little more than festering bones, they were clearly more "edible" than Rat herself and had been eaten by hungry tyranids.
Rat sighed with sacred Nurgle despair at this loss of life, and shambled along to continue fighting for Nurgle.
Rat encountered a bloated ripper pupae up ahead, not yet moulted into an adult yet.
Rat tapped on the hard pupae shell experimentally with the point of her knife. It was hard as a beetle shell and the knife tip bounced harmlessly off it.
Rat shrugged and kept shambling along, looking for foes she could actually fight right now.
Rat found dozens of similar pupae as she continued on, but nothing else seemed to be alive in here.
Rat reached the front door of the building and poked her head out curiously.
BANG!
Rat staggered from some dull impact, she looked down at her chest with her multi-spectrum bionic eyes and was surprised to see a huge hole blasted in her chest from a bolter round!
"(Sucking wet wheeze), that was... Rude!" Rat complained in irritated indignation.
"Hold your fire!" A harsh deep Night Lord voice bellowed out of the darkness.
Rat raised her palms in peace and shambled out into the dark. Her chest hole was already festering with fresh infections to replace the damage.
"The tyranids got out, mean genestealer hooligans wrecked the place and stole Nurgle's offerings!" Rat called to the Night Lords.
"What is the situation inside?, How many hostiles?," a Night Lord demanded.
"Nothing but pupae inside, the ruffians left. They killed everyone and tried to kill me too," Rat explained sadly.
Rat was suddenly shoved aside as an entire army of Night Lords stormed the building at this news.
Rat crossly got back to her feet as gunfire sounded inside the building, rude Night Lords!
Rat sighed with despair and decided to head home to her husband, he was probably getting worried.
Rat saw her dark surroundings in a sickly green night vision of putrid hues, her corroded bionic eyes still worked despite their terrible state of decay.
She saw charred dead rippers and humanoid bodies everywhere, the short burning promethium favoured by the darkness loving Night Lord flamers having already burned itself out.
Rat shambled towards the nearest subway station entrance, almost tripping over the piles of dead, and entered a fire gutted tunnel, completely burned out from obvious flamer use.
Charred tyranid shells and human skeletons were everywhere in the ashy corridors, the shops were all burned out and smoke lingered in the air. Few lights still functioned, and the place didn't look like a great place to linger.
Rat met no one alive as she shambled through the station, everything remotely flammable was badly burned. It was a wonder that the ceiling still held up.
Rat found her platform and waited in silence, wondering if the trains still operated.
Rat was just considering leaving when a rune encrusted train rolled up to the station. The train was operated by daemons bound into the hull, and clearly no one had remembered to command these train daemons to stop travelling as per normal.
The doors slid open, revealing viciously hissing ripper larvae infesting the carriage.
Rat shrugged and boarded the train, wading through the swarm of ankle biters.
The rippers dropped dead like flies as they bit chunks of flesh out of Rat's legs, killed almost instantly by the terrible plagues she carried.
Rat ignored these irritating pests and sat down, the blessings of Nurgle would heal these bites no problem. The metal chair under her bottom decayed slightly from her creeping rot, but Rat ignored this too.
Within minutes every ripper in the carriage had died from biting Rat, and their bodies were rapidly going rancid and mouldy from her terrible supernatural infections.
Rat was technically speaking a Nurgle "plague zombie", she was not truly alive but not dead either, but was instead somewhere in between. Nurgle plague zombies were usually mindless and insane, but Rat was one of the tiny minority of plague zombies who retained their mental faculties.
Rat had at least retained *most* of her mental faculties at any rate, she unfortunately had a few gaps in her memory. For example Rat had once had a name, she couldn't remember it now...
The name "Rat" was really a nickname, named after what she most often ate, namely rotting dead rats. She didn't have any other name of her own...
Rat's train pulled up at Covfefe Station and she exited the train in silence.
On the platform she found holy daemons of Nurgle hacking apart ripper larvae who had departed the train, dead rippers lay rotting all over the platform.
"Nurgle... Loves you..." A bloated plague bearer daemon rasped at Rat in greeting, making her smile wonderfully with her festering reeking mouth.
"Blessed be the name of Nurgle," Rat replied happily.
Rat hugged the wonderful daemons when they finished off the rippers, and then shambled through the station heading home.
Covfefe Station clearly hadn't fallen to the tyranids, the businesses were still open and armies of Nurgle daemons patrolled the station in shambling hoards to protect against tyranids.
Rat exited the station and moved down the sewerage flooded streets of this subterranean district, greeting the festering inhabitants she met along her way.
Rat lived in the most squalid backstreets of Covfefe, right in the heart of gang territory, heading home was always an interesting experience. You never knew what to expect in her neighbourhood.
The entire district was wonderfully hot and humid, perfect microbial growing conditions, and Rat felt strengthened as her bacteria thrived in this environment. The very warm sewerage she waded through was soaking through her skin ulcers, adding power and biomass to her body, gloriously revitalising her.
Rat sighed in contentment as the sewer bacteria became more of the substance of her festering body, making her slightly stronger and more energetic as her earlier damage from today's injuries was completely replaced with foul supernatural bacteria.
Rat had a spring in her step as she entered gang territory, she felt so good after a good wade through sewerage and oppressive humid heat!
The district of Covfefe was a bit hard to describe geographically, it was deep underground but still had a "sky". It was basically a floor and a ceiling of bedrock held aloft by a combination of strong pillars and warp magic. On top of this floor was built buildings and roads, the buildings were putrid multi-storey hovels of pestilence, but not quite tall enough to reach the rock ceiling overhead.
A very dim greenish brown supernatural glowing haze filled the air above the buildings, forming a sky of sorts that let everyone see, it looked really nice.
The festering mouldy outside walls of the hovels in this gangland part of Covfefe were festooned with gang graffiti proclaiming this area the territory of "the Black Pill Incels", a bunch of despair filled extremists known for shooting up public places when their despair got too great.
Rat soon saw members of the cult/gang of the Black Pill Incels patrolling the streets. They were all carrying excessive amounts of firearms and were all surprisingly attractive (for Nurgle worshippers), yet thought they were ugly for some reason, caught in a bizarre cycle of despair for being "too ugly to get girls", despite being some of the most handsome Nurgle worshippers Rat had ever seen.
Rat personally knew that extremely hot Slaaneshi women were actively trying to have sex with these men, but the Incels were so lost in despair fuelled insanity that they drove women away at gunpoint for "mocking them".
Rat cautiously walked towards a group of Black Pill Incels who were in her path, eyeing their drab black gang clothes and high velocity firearms fearfully. They were all quite handsome as Nurgle worshippers went, young and strong, with nothing but poor hygiene and dour attitudes to make them at all unappealing sexually.
The Incels saw Rat and immediately blocked her path.
"Well if it isn't Rat... Off to see your Chad HUSBAND are you?!" One of the Incels said with a strange combination of angry accusation and utterly wretched sorrow filled bitter despair.
"I, um, I have been married for almost 30 years, you weren't even born when I was last single..." Rat attempted diplomatically.
"(Wailing), Married to a CHAD! You are SO ugly but you couldn't even date at your own beauty level! How will we EVER get girls if even the ugliest ones date only the Chads!" The Incel bawled.
Rat flinched in horror and looked down at herself, feeling so hideously ugly right now.
"You owe it to your own kind to ditch that handsome Chad and be with us instead! I will date you right now, you say yes?" The pushy Incel demanded.
"I am married..." Rat explained diplomatically.
"(Angry wailing), REJECTED AGAIN! How could you do this to me?! You are just SO ugly! Why can't you be with an ugly man like me?!" The man shouted at her.
"Calling women ugly to their face while trying to seduce them is not very romantic..." Rat said quietly.
"We are ugly too! We get to use that word!" Another Incel snapped indignantly.
Rat looked down at her skeletal, half-bacterial, plague zombie body in all of it's festering nightmarish pestilential horror. She then looked at the perfectly normal looking, young and relatively healthy Incels, attractive young men who were lacking only a shower and a smile to look enticing.
"You look nothing like me," Rat informed these idiots.
"Yes we do, we lack a few millimetres of bone in our faces, so we will be virgins forever!"
"Why don't you join those big pitch dark orgies in the streets or hire a prostitute or something?," Rat suggested.
"Don't mock us you bitch!"
"I'm not mocking you, I'm serious. If even *Chris-Chan* can lose their virginity to a hooker then you can too!" Rat insisted.
"Chris-Chan is a CHAD!"
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Rat exclaimed in complete bewilderment.
(Author's note, Google Chris-Chan or Christian Chandler or Christine Chandler, if you dare).
"Just get out of our sight you horrible femoid!" The Incels cursed her.
Rat was utterly flabbergasted but shambled past without another word, utterly insulted by these lunatics.
Rat was still feeling hideously ugly from the Incels' words as she reached her own pestilential hovel, and she wretchedly shambled inside.
"My BEAUTIFUL bride! Oh my Slaanesh you are so SEXY!"
Rat was pressed up hard against a wall and kissed passionately.
Rat gazed in slight surprise to see her husband, "Glans Abernathy", kissing her so frantically that it was almost scary.
"I love you! I love you I love you I love you you utterly PERFECT woman!" Glans proclaimed between frenzied kisses.
"Oh Glans, I love you too," Rat said romantically, feeling utterly tender.
"Too many clothes! Hiding your sexy body from my sight!" Her husband exclaimed passionately.
Rat gasped as he tore open her chest covering, baring her cadaverous massive fake breasts!
"Oh GLANS!" Rat moaned as he buried his face between her tits.
Rat was overwhelmed as she gazed down at the sweaty seedy balding head of her overweight and quite amazingly ugly husband, Glans Abernathy.
Despite what the Incels said, Glans was no "Chad", he radiated seediness like a light bulb radiates light, his penis was too small, he had a sweat problem, he was genuinely ugly, had almost nonexistent hygiene, and he didn't even worship Nurgle despite all that!
"Moan for me beautiful, do that moan I like!" Glans begged passionately.
Rat drew on the plague zombie part of her mind and gave a loud nightmarish gasping undead zombie moan.
"Oh Slaanesh!" Glans moaned orgasmically and seemed to cum himself prematurely in excitement.
Rat held her husband tenderly as he gasped to catch his breath after his premature ejaculation, she felt so incredibly loved.
Rat giggled as her husband suddenly scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, he was so naughty!
She was carried through their mouldering biohazard of a home, past shrines to both Nurgle and Slaanesh, past gardens of mould growing out of every wall and other surface, past stacks of Glans' decaying "Slaanesh Necrophiliac Weekly" porno magazines.
Rat and Glans were a mixed faith couple, Rat worshipping Nurgle and Glans worshipping Slaanesh. Rat was a plague zombie, but Glans was a Slaanesh worshipping necrophiliac with a MASSIVE zombie fetish, making Rat his perfect wife.
Glans was one of the only non-Nurgle mortals that was completely unharmed by Rat's terrible plagues, the plagues that made up so much of the very substance of Rat's flesh were intelligent and symbiotic and they recognised Glans as being "their" husband.
By marrying Rat as a zombie, Glans had married her many plagues too, and the plagues romantically adored their extremely loving and attentive husband, he was their beloved darling and completely protected by them.
Rat and her plagues giggled delightedly as she was deposited on the putrid reeking bed. Glans paused only to strip naked and then pounced on her in a frenzy of passionate kissing.
Rat gasped as he tore her rags apart to expose her pestilential loathsome flesh completely naked, she was completely overwhelmed.
"BEAUTIFUL!" Glans proclaimed in worship of her naked body, he made her feel so utterly sexy.
Rat moaned as his small penis entered her, his relentless romance was just utterly intoxicating to her feminine heart.
"Oh," Rat gasped as he began tying her wrists to the rusty bar at the head of the bed with decay resistant nylon ropes.
Rat was too wet to protest, and just gasped and moaned as she was fucked in bondage.
Rat lost count of her orgasms as the time went on, this was just PERFECT!
Hours later Rat and her plagues were utterly cummed out satisfied puddles of pure bliss, they loved their husband so much.
"You are UTTERLY beautiful," Glans told her tenderly, giving her a kiss.
"Oh Glans, you make me feel so good. I almost forgot about the tyranid invasion," Rat sighed contentedly.
"TYRANID INVASION!?" Glans squawked in horror.
"Yeah..." Rat confirmed sadly.
***...
