Chapter Text
Izma was an average person, sure. She was apparently the lost child of The Empress of Mankind. Sure, she was quite literally bigger and taller than everyone else, and sure, she looked like an anthropomorphized shark. But she was average.
Bland.
There wasn't anything too special about herself; that's how Izma viewed it. She grew up on an ocean world, Oceanius V, with an average family. She had a loving mother who took great care in ensuring she stayed in one piece as a kid and a father who was considered a sort of tribal leader for her home island. The type of man that would go out to the primary continent of her homeworld and head into space to trade with the local habitable planets in the system.
She went to school, had friends, and had a boyfriend. There was that brief stint that changed her life where space pirates took over everything, and she found herself thrust into the position of leadership of a resistance. Izma considered that a small defining moment in her life followed by the transformation that led to her current state. A small snort escaped the shark woman at the thought; honestly, those had been a strange few years of her life. Which eventually led to her current position, which she had been in for about ten years.
A leader of a literal army of warriors using augmented enhancements derived from her genes. Gene-seed, as it was called. The IInd Legion, the Ocean's Fang.
To Izma, her legion was like an extended family, not by blood. And only because the legion was augmented with her gene-seed. But still family, nonetheless, they were gene-daughters.
A term used by the Empress and Izma's other actual related family, the Primarchs, of which she stood as the second of twenty but found third out of twenty other siblings.
So despite all of that, everything that Izma could call her life. She still found herself to be quite average. Anyone could’ve been where she had been; she wasn’t unique, special. She was just painfully average with a few quirks .
A few life-changing quirks, no matter how much she denied it or disliked it.
But that didn't mean she didn't put in the effort to do her job and do it well.
After all, that was why she had cut a swath through space, claiming world after world in the name of the Imperium. Like a blazing hot sun, she did quick work.
Enough work for the next planet to be of immediate notice.
The Ocean's Fang reconnaissance fleet had reported that a world known as Colchis by the inhabitants was in the middle of a civil war. It was the current established government versus rebels interested in overthrowing their rule led by what was reported to be a messiah-like figure. This figure stood far above your average human and had a certain radiance to her.
They were preaching about a golden goddess descending onto their planet.
There was no doubt to Izma that she had come across another of her sisters.
Admittedly, her name was pretty: Lorgaria Aurelian. Izma wondered what she was like in person.
She hoped that she was nice.
Izma looked at herself in the mirror, hands running along her face as she put in her best confident expression. Her gold eyes looked right back at her while her lips curled, revealing the toothy smile of her short snout. Slowly, her gaze fell as she looked at the attire she wore for today. It was a formal flowing dress fitted for her body.
It was lovely deep blue with a scale-like pattern and enough space for cleavage to be shown off. The blue matched closely with the primary coloration of her skin, and the secondary accenting white contrasted it. Finally, Izma’s hair was done up into a ponytail; bangs were combed to the side so Izma’s appearance was as proper as possible.
"Alright, Izzy, just go talk to the Empress and inform her of the situation," Izma spoke to herself, hyping herself out before leaving her quarters; she would be boarding The Empress’ flagship, The Bucephelus, for discussion regarding the situation going forward. Izma didn’t know if she dreaded or was nervous about being on such a ship; she knew that The Empress had strange feelings regarding her appearance.
~
It wasn’t long till Izma found herself aboard the Bucephelus. The halls of the ship were as grand as The Empress herself, with gold-plated walls and red tapestry displaying grand conquests images of The Empress herself and her legion of Custodes.
Izma knew where she was going; she had been on this ship quite a few times to speak with The Empress, and each time, the Battle Barge was only gaining new displays of The Empress's glory.
Upon entering a grand banquet hall, Izma spotted the Empress at one end of the room. To say that The Master of Mankind was breathtaking was an understatement; the Empress was a woman of unequal measure; she sat on a mighty gold throne wearing a velvet red dress that exposed her hard core of abs, the cleavage of her immense bosom which even had Izma envious of their perfect large size, each orb bigger than her head and capped with perky nipples which poked through the dress. In one hand, she held a glass of wine; the other rested at her side. Her arms themselves were powerful, packed with muscle but not enough to overpower the inherent femininity she possessed, a golden band with wings wrapped around her left arm.
The face of The Empress was womanly, perfection made form. Strong but feminine, with muscles helping to accentuate the curvature of her body. Long locks of silky black hair framed her face, flowing down her back while a golden laurel wreath sat on her head. Warm chestnut eyes stared back at Izma while her Mediterranean-tanned skin glistened, giving The Empress a strong allure. Izma felt her rod stiffen at the sight of The Empress, as it had many times before when in her presence.
Not that The Empress ever minded, a slight, subtle smirk placed across the Master of Mankind's face, “Izma, Daughter,” The words from The Empress held a certain weight, gravitas to them.
Izma coughed into her hand, “My Empress,” She sat at the long table, sitting at a chair with the Romanized two carved into the head of the chair. Izma could not question the craftsmanship of the chair; It was beyond perfect for a woman of her size. It did leave a tiny bit of embarrassment that Izma needed chairs for her large size.
“It’s good to see you’re in good health; your Legion has been quite effective at expanding the Imperium’s borders,” The Empress controlled the conversation, placing her glass of wine down at the table, her eyes looking over Izma like a predator.
“Y-Yes,” Izma stammered; the nervousness in The Empress' presence was immense, “My Legion and I have been claiming more worlds in your name for humanity!” She put on the facade of bravado, emulating some of her more boisterous and confident siblings, “But, we’ve come across a situation as of recent into our push of the western regions, a planet to be specific.”
The brows of The Empress furrowed, her lips pursing as she mulled on what Izma had said, her eyes locking with Izma, “A planet? A simple planet shouldn’t be much trouble for your Legion and your tactics.”
That fear of upsetting The Empress was always heavy in Izma’s heart; she chose her words carefully, “I-It isn’t. Rather, it’s what my scouts have reported on the planet,” Izma's hands clasped together. She cleared her throat, “They have sent me information detailing the goings on of the world; Colchis, as the natives call it, is in a civil war, a highly religious war at that.”
“That doesn’t sound much of a problem at all; you understand how we handle such situations in the Imperium,” the Empress said in a matter-of-fact tone, neither displeased nor happy.
Izma bit back the feeling of worry pushing through to continue explaining the situation, “Well, it concerns the rebels, one of the sides engaging in the war. A woman, a massive woman, similar to a Primarch, leads them.”
“I see, continue.”
“We have a name for said individual, as well as reported characteristic traits from those we extracted the information from,” Izma's tail shifted slightly, her eyes focused intensely on The Empress, “They are described as being incredibly charismatic, with what could be described as a powerful aura around them a sort of air of authority they carry. A pair of golden glowing eyes, Lorgaria Aurelian, is her name,” Izma gnawed on her bottom lip as she observed her Empress’ expression.
A soft sigh escaped from The Empress, her lips turning into a small smile, “I see,” She stood up from her seat, showing her towering height. The Empress was big but not as big as Izma in more ways than one, “It appears you may have discovered one of your siblings, no doubt about it. No normal individual could ever manage such a feat, but caution would be advised.”
A soft nod left Izma as she followed the Empress’ movements, “Izma, follow me,” She spoke with a tone of authority, which Izma obeyed without hesitation, getting out of her seat and following her Empress out of the banquet room.
There was a silence that hung in the air as they traversed the halls of the ship. Izma could spot the members of the Custodian Guard on their flanks. Their movement was so precise that Izma often forgot they were around; they could be as still and stiff or fast and agile as needed. Sometimes, it was unnerving for the Primarch.
The pair entered what could be described as a small study, the room lit by a candle with a fragrant aroma wafting in the air. Izma noted the shelves of books upon books and the desk off to the side. But her focus was on where The Empress went, and where she went was to a chair, her hand gesturing for Izma to sit down.
The chair was similar to the one from the banquet hall; Izma had to admit that The Empress knew how to get good chairs. She only hoped that the person who made them was adequately compensated.
Izma’s eyes followed The Empress’ movements as she came to stand in front of her. Izma knew of The Empress' eccentric nature; she knew that everything that went through The Empress' head was complex, and questioning it was not worth the time. However, she couldn't help herself, "M-my Empress, may I ask why you wished to take this to a study? If it isn't rude of me to ask," She gulped.
The Empress' lips curled into a smile, "Ah, Izma, my sweet daughter, you can always call me mother. Save the formalities in public or when the situation is far more serious," The Empress' hands moved up towards the straps of her dress, "Besides, I thought you'd enjoy somewhere from prying eyes, much better than having my Custodes stare at you down from the sidelines."
Izma tried to form a sentence, but her mind was drawing a blank.
As was known, the inner machinations of the Empress were far harder to read, and as such, the moment The Empress began to slip free of her dress was when Izma's hearts started to thump. The IInd's blood flowed faster as The Empress's nude figure slowly blessed her eyes. "M-mother!" Izma turned her eyes away, attempting to keep the dirty thoughts forming at the back of her mind.
It didn't stop the blood flow going south, however.
The Empress let out a hearty laugh and stepped forward, simply slipping out of the dress, her bare feet touching the ground as she approached Izma, "Daughter," Her voice commanded Izma's attention; the IInd’s head turned to face. Izma’s eyes widened as she got a grand close-up of The Empress' perfect nudity.
Izma's cheeks turned a shade brighter as her eyes looked down, seeing the erect shaft of The Empress, a mighty fine steed pulsing and throbbing, the tip of said cock drooling a virile substance along its length, "By the-" Izma didn't get to finish a word as she found her lips smothered by The Empress', eyes widening even further as she leaned back into the seat, a hand placed on her chest effortlessly keeping her in place.
The IInd moans were muffled; she was breathless as The Empress' tongue invaded her mouth, feeling the inside of her maw and dominating Izma's tongue with zero effort. Izma's nostrils flared, her heart's thumping louder and her adrenaline racing. The few minutes spent locked in a kiss with The Empress was a sensation Izma was sure never to forget; when they parted ways, Izma was left breathless and panting. While The Empress wore a smirk, her hands wiping away the saliva on her lip, "Your reactions are adorable."
Izma felt her core shiver at the words spoken, "Your reactions are perhaps the most interesting out of all the current daughters I have had the pleasure of doing this too," The tip of Izma's shaft drooled against her thigh, twitching as the thought of The Empress doing this regularly to her siblings aroused her to no end.
Another hearty laugh left The Empress, "You are my strangest daughter yet, from the day you returned to now," Izma blushed, her eyes darting off to the side, only for her attention to snap back to The Empress, seeing her climbing onto her lap.
Izma gasped as The Empress' weight settled on her lap, her breath rising as The Empress leaned forward, her finger pressing against Izma’s lip, slowly dragging across it, “Daughter, I know you’ve struggled since we've reunited. An effect of your upbringing and your,” She paused while her rear pressed against the raging bulge between Izma’s legs, the tip of the shaft drooling, creating a damp spot on the dress and gushing more pre-cum down her leg, “Unique nature."
Those fingers danced across Izma's skin, skimming across the straps of the dress, inching ever closer to the Primarch cleavage, "You will go to Colchis, you will handle the return of your missing sister, you will bring the world into the Imperial fold," The Empress leaned in her face inches away from Izma's, all the while a prominent bulge of her own pressed into the Shark Primarchs stomach.
Another nod left Izma as she was tense from the fact The Empress was teasing her, feeling that rear wiggling against her cock, bringing that urge to just fuck the nearest object she could, “But on the off-hand chance, it turns out the leader of this rebellion, isn’t one of your sisters, then handle it as any other world as you normally would," The Empress leaned in when she spoke, her hot words trailing across Izma's pointed knife like ears.
Their breasts pressed against each other, the Empress' shaft grinding against Izma's core and her rear squishing her shaft with their weight, "You can do that for me, can't you, my sweet daughter?" Each word The Empress spoke was like the sweetest of sweets. They made Izma feel weak in the knees.
“Y-yes,” Izma shuddered, feeling The Empress press down, her eyes focusing on the most extraordinary human ever to live. She wanted to grab The Empress’ hips and squeeze those comprehensive child-birthing tools; holding herself back from the rising lust was hard enough as is, and it didn’t help that The Empress did not stop.
The Empress leaned in, speaking softly into Izma's left ear, “It’ll be at your discretion; I believe you can handle this well. My Sweet. Strong. Daughter," Izma let out a groan, the drool of her shaft running down her left leg like a faucet, "It’ll do much for your confidence,” Slowly, the weight upon Izma’s lap lifted, The Empress pulling away, standing up and looking down at the flustered and aroused Izma with a smirk, “I believe that ends our discussion unless you’d like to inform me of anything else,” She sent a wink at Izma.
Of course, Izma didn’t respond; she simply got up and looked away blushing, "I believe that was all I needed to say," The tenting between her legs made her feel restless, craving a carnal release. She kept looking away from The Empress, hoping to keep the idea of simply pinning her down and going to town out of her head.
She had the intense misfortune of an active mind and a ‘mother’ who seemed more than willing to exploit that.
"Good," Izma heard her say as she headed for the exit of the study, "When you're done, do return to me; your reward will be waiting~" Izma stiffened at those words, holding herself back from making a potential mistake, and then proceeding to head out.
She swore that the Empress would be what killed her.
~
Lorgaria Aurelian was a respected name amongst The Declined, a leader, a revolutionary ushering in a new dawn. The Messiah, a Prophet, and a hundred more descriptors, she was seemingly infallible to the masses that followed her; she spoke with wisdom and grace, growing her flock in what amounted to a short period of time in the grand scheme of things.
What Lorgaria Aurelian was not, however, was a warrior, a tactician, a soldier. Yet she could fill those roles where needed, even feign that she was such things to others. She was so far above ordinary people that they couldn't tell the difference, yet she could.
She knew her limits all too well.
Seventeen years, seventeen brutal years of fighting a civil war, a revolution, and a conflict that had claimed many lives, had taught her well. It weighed heavily on Lorgaria, the sins of conflict like chains slowing her down. Never in her life had she imagined that she would be fighting for so long or so early.
This war wasn't supposed to happen at the time it did, but it did, and it lasted longer than it should have. Lorgaria knew this to be fact. She had visions, after all. The most recent foretold the arrival of a golden goddess and a red giant, respectively.
Yet doubt formed in her gut whether this would come to be. Doubts… They made the bulk of how Lorgaria felt, and she was good at hiding them from others, but it had limits. Lorgaria was thankful that her loyal flock hadn't noticed.
Lorgaria raised her head from the sink full of water, her golden eyes looking back at her from a mirror. Bags were under her eyes, deep from many sleepless nights and days, her unique biological makeup being pushed to its limits more often than not these past few years. Her long and unkempt white hair framed her face; she hadn't the time to bother keeping it tidy as of late. Otherwise, she would've cut how she preferred.
Her hands raised slowly up to her face, index fingers pressing next to the corners of her mouth. Slowly, she pressed up, forcing a smile before pulling back, leaving her to hold the smile altogether.
Lorgaria held and kept holding it for as long as possible; it wouldn't slip away. She couldn't allow that to happen, not when those in need needed her strong presence. After a few minutes, she relaxed her facial muscles and shoulders too. Slowly, Lorgaria backed away from the sink and the mirror to get a better view of her upper body.
To say she wasn't built to last was a lie; while she wasn't the most muscular of individuals, she had a great care of tone across her figure, and her height was nothing to scoff at either. She stood taller than the tallest men, and her body was perfectly proportioned to boot. Speaking of proportions, she wasn't lacking either; Lorgaria had curves that could make any woman envious. Large, full breasts capped at their peaks with sensitive nipples that didn't weigh her down or impede her movements. A smooth belly flowing into a firm waistline with wide hips, a juicy heart-shaped ass to boot, and a pair of succulent toned thighs that many often remarked they would love to have their heads between.
Unlike other women, she had one more part, something less scrupulous men liked to flaunt. A flaccid cock and a pair of heavily aching balls, far bigger than most men could dream of having. Lorgaria had never bothered to measure how big she was, though there wasn't time ever to do so. Despite possessing a set of male genitals, Lorgaria did not lack the other tool either. Hidden just behind her male set was a tight pair of lips, the tightest vagina one might ever meet in their lifetime.
Most importantly, untouched.
If Lorgaria hadn't been fighting for so long, she could've sworn she would've been a mother or father by now. Her body was built for such a thing; however, that was not ever to be.
However, despite that beauty, the face she put on for others' sake. Lorgaria was tired of this conflict, exhausted. She wished for it to end soon, not her life but the fighting on Colchis. But that was a Lorgaria she could never show to anyone, ever. Not even those closest to her could be allowed to know how she truly felt, how tired she was.
Lorgaria clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and began to pray softly, not for herself but for those of her flock and her people. For the ones she bonded with, cherished with her giant open heart, for those that had already passed on.
She prayed for her soul as well.
Slowly, Lorgaria's eyes opened up, a solemn expression briefly on her face. She glanced at the mirror one last time, then turned around and left her bathroom, her back reflected in the mirror and the scars it bore.
Lorgaria's nude form moved with precision and grace as she entered her private quarters. The room was decidedly simplistic, with nothing of grandeur, only scriptures and the bearest of necessity. To have more than her flock would betray the ideals she had fought so hard for; Lorgaria simply wouldn't allow it.
Making her way across the room, she approached the opposite end, where a stand displayed the armor she wore into battle.
To call it strapped together was an understatement. The armor was a hodgepodge of various other bits of metal and armor welded together; it was far from comfortable, hard to get in and out of, and fit in the very loosest sense of the word. But it protected her many, many times over and over.
And while it was not of the finest of craftsmanship, it was made with the finest of hearts put into it. Something that cold factory machinery could never reproduce. Lorgaria cherished the armory every moment she could. Her flock was too kind.
Lorgaria let out a deep sigh, a thankful prayer before she turned her attention to the dresser next to the stand.
It wasn't long before Lorgaria had slipped into a body glove and begun putting on her armor. It wasn't long until she was done and had slipped her mess of hair into a ponytail, keeping it out of her face before leaving the private quarters altogether.
The outside air of Colchis was cool, the sound of crashing waves against sand providing comfort and the moon in the night sky illuminating the darkness. To the residents of Colchis, It was the rest-eve of High Night, the coldest the planet got due to its extended rotation. It was not a horrible time, but that was if you lived in the cities along the coastline.
Otherwise, the deserts that spanned the planet were some of the harshest environments the world could provide.
Lorgaria lived in both, first in the desert as a nomad and now in a captured city liberated from oppressive overlords.
It was one of many freed from the oppressive Covenant, their rule no longer welcomed, those enslaved freed of their shackles. The battle for the city was hard fought, and the city had to be rebuilt before Lorgaria's flock aimed to take the next one. It would be some time before the city was fully repaired, but Lorgaria hoped they could accomplish that sooner rather than later.
Lorgaria stood on a balcony overlooking the vast desert outside the city; two torches on each side of her cast her shadow across the railing as she looked out into the desert. Unlike an average person, Lorgaria could make out details and shapes far better without using tools; her eyesight was inhuman but a blessing that she used well.
A frown spread across her lips while they liberated this city months prior. The cost of life on both sides had been high; the marks of battle in the desert outside the city that Lorgaria saw stood as a reminder. The blood paid in the land gained was high, and it would continue to rise as her flock continued their march forward.
Grueling was that which came to mind for Lorgaria, and she didn't like it one bit. However, this was the reality she was faced with, and one she could never deny in its entirety.
The loud crack of a rifle ripped through the silent night, and Lorgaria's attention snapped to the source, the sound coming from a watchtower. The spire had been converted into a sniper and lookout nest; clearly, they had found something.
Lorgaria leaned onto the railing, a hand raised to her ear, pressing it as she spoke into a small vox communicator. She wished that things could be peaceful, better than it was now.
With a sigh, Lorgaria spoke.
"What did you find?"
Notes:
As you can guess, this is far from an average Warhammer fic; I won't lie, I've had this idea in the back of my brain for a long time in some form or another. It wasn't until I read the Isis Insurrection by Evnogena that I considered writing this story, but here we are. As you can guess, this is a bit of a smutty story, but it isn't driven by smut; there is smut, but I still aim to be semi-serious, not super serious, but serious enough. If you're familiar with my other work, Your Long Shot of A Destiny, don't worry I haven't abandoned that fic. I am still working out the next chapter. I just struggle with writing a fight scene.
As for when new chapters drop for this story, it'll depend more on my mood than anything. I can't give a super consistent date, unfortunately.
Anyways If you'd like to join a creative writing server, click the link to join Goblin Industries, especially if you want to talk about the story.
I've been Firestarter09, I hope you enjoy and please remember to leave a review I love knowing what you guys think about my writing. It means a lot you know?