[F4A] Warmaids were meant to be too terrible to ever be deployed in battle, but fate had other plans. This is a chronicle of the destruction that was wrought and the women who brought ruin to our world.

“Sierra One, how copy?”

The radio bud in Astrid’s ear crackled out a message from her commander, causing the woman to shift her prone stance just enough to key her own microphone with a tap of the touch-pad on her neck. As she settled back onto the twin protrusions on her chestplate, her voice was professional-but-chipper, as if she’d been waiting all day for this specific conversation.

“Solid, ‘ya need something boss?”

“Eyes up, long-range is reading a new contact, Kaiser-Class and moving too quick to scramble aerial interception. Going to need you to set up for a shot.”

There was a hint of a tremor in the woman’s voice, the slightest waver as the tiny contact arced its way across the screen in front of her.

“On it, send coordinates, I’ll handle it.”

Astrid’s HUD lit up with the ship’s signature, and she started the mental calculations to determine where and when to take her shot. Its parabolic trajectory would bring it up at most to just below the horizon-line, perhaps the pilot hoped it was beyond her effective range, and she had no time to get to higher ground before they’d be right. She moved her elbows to lift herself off of her chestplate, then tried her best to roll in two directions at once in order to bring her rifle to bear directly behind her as quickly as possible. The long-barreled weapon and its attendant conduits swung in a pendulous arc before the feet of its bipod slammed down and anchored themselves into the surface of her perch once more.

Figures and diagrams flashed over before Astrid’s eyes as her suit helped her with the calculations necessary to finish adjusting her rifle. Her breathing slowed and deepened, her irises slowly tracked the movement of the ship, and a twitch of her fingertip toggled her weapon from safe to fire as she completed the last of her preparations. All around her the world fell away as her focus tightened on her target, then with a long and gradual breath out she squeezed the trigger.

The conduits feeding into her weapon glowed and pulsed before the length of the rifle thrummed and a blisteringly-fast particle beam issued forth. A fraction of a moment after the round cleared the barrel the entire gun kicked with enough force to crack the roof around Astrid. Downrange, though, the effect was a bit more dramatic…

The high-velocity projectile blasted through the water inbetween itself and its target with sufficient force to send a pair of waves outward from its impact point, slightly parting the sea itself with the sheer fury of its passing. The aircraft had the barest moment to register an incoming threat, but before its point-defense turrets could traverse to intercept it was already upon them. The pilots' brains didn't even have enough time to propagate the signal of what was about to happen to their bodies before a truly immense amount of kinetic and thermal energy transferred itself into the airframe they sat within.

The flying fortress was immediately jolted several meters to the side as if it had been flicked by a contemptuous wind spirit, but it took the shocked crew several longer moments to realize the true extent of the damage. They'd been hit at an oblique angle, and the new circular tunnel bored into the fuselage was easily wide enough to drive a pair of transport trucks through side-by-side from one end of the aircraft to the other. Worse, the glowing and molten edges of the hole seemed to be growing with each passing moment, as if whatever had struck them had left a powerful acid just to add insult to injury. Moments after they saw this, however, what remained of their ship erupted into polychromatic flames as the bombs they carried finally cooked off.

Astrid took a deep breath, sighing and disengaging the hardened pitons anchoring her to the roof. The barrel of her rifle was a sagging, glowing, smoking wreck from the sheer fury of the shot it had sought to direct, but the incandescent smile on its owner's face persisted even as her earpiece chirped her commander's voice to her.

"We're reading target down here, what's your status?"

"It's definitely down. I'm going to have to RTB though, my rifle's toast."

She smirked to herself as she gathered up the remains of her perch and jumped down to the ground, letting the shock-absorbers in her armor handle the drop for her. Then, with a casual jog that did little to suggest she was carrying a weapon that was longer than she was tall, she began to jog back to the rendezvous point.

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Astrid clomped her way through the door into her locker area and let out a heavy sigh, her entire posture sagging as she discarded her ruined weapon to the ground. The conduits disconnected from it with a soft hiss, allowing the cables running along her arm to fall free while she began the rather-involved process of removing her armor. She began with her helmet, pulling it free and discarding it to free her long black hair and allow it to bounce slightly into cascading waves when she shook her head.

Seals and servos hissed as each piece of hardened plating detached from the form-fitting undersuit beneath them, starting with her feet, then her legs, then her hands and arms. The conduits to her weapon, previously carefully hidden and managed, now hung more freely from their origin point on her chestplate as she undid the armor on her lower torso and allowed it to join the rest of its companion pieces. Finally, the seals on her chest released and she gingerly began to separate the front of the clamshell assembly from the back. Unfortunately for her, without the assistance of the powered frame’s heavier materials the compressive strength of her bodyglove was simply insufficient to stop her breasts from returning to their full and unhindered size.

The larger-than-head-sized mounds forcefully tore the heavy armor from her grip, casting it to the floor and causing a few residual droplets of pearlescent white liquid to cast outward from the opened iris-valves that had covered her nipples. The sniper winced at the sight of the liquid sizzling and hissing as it ate through the armor’s inner electronics and outer plating with similar ease, the engineers wouldn’t be pleased when they found out what had happened…

Those thoughts swiftly disappeared as she stretched and rolled her shoulders, however, and a groan of satisfaction was joined by a chorus of pops and clicks from her muscles and joints resettling from their weighted-down positions into more natural ones. Now clad in only the black polymer bodysuit that covered every inch of her skin save for her head and nipples, Astrid strode more lightly and freely over to an unlocked cabinet to retrieve the neutralizing spray within and gave each of her nipples a spritz to counteract any battle-milk that remained from her less-than-graceful removal of her chestplate.

She felt delightfully light for once, the full-power blast had emptied her more than she’d expected, but even with their remaining compression her breasts had a ponderous inertia to them when she turned back toward her locker once more. A few taps against its surface allowed her to retrieve the clothes and towel within, and after drying herself off with the gentlest of movements to not trigger further milk release she began to dress herself.

Despite her status on base, her outfit of choice was hardly a uniform. Instead, a pastel miniskirt and matching cooling vest covered her sufficiently to preserve modesty in the ways that her undersuit were insufficient. The insistent chirping of her comm finally caught her attention enough to get her to answer, albeit with a halfhearted “This is Hagan, I’m listening.”

“Did you forget your appointment, Warmaid? Orientation is in ten minutes.” The clipped, somewhat-severe tone that answered her shocked her back into a state of coherence, and the living weapon bit back a curse before exiting the locker room.

“I’m on my way, you better not let them start without me Rhaya!” Astrid cut the call and took off down the hall, trusting in the materials engineering of her garments to stop her chest from becoming too unmanageable. With a preternatural speed and precision she weaved her way past those who weren’t in such a hurry, crossing the expanse of the base as if her life depended on it. Corridor after corridor passed in a blur until she reached her destination: a nondescript-seeming conference room door only made exceptional by the pair of heavily-armed guards standing on either side of it.

A hurried flash of her ID badge got her past the final obstacle, but the intense emerald eyes of the similarly-well-endowed redhead standing before a number of seated individuals froze her blood in an instant.

The woman looked Astrid up and down, mentally contrasting her own carefully pressed and tucked in dress Alphas with the newcomer’s far less professional ensemble, “Thank you for joining us, Maid Hagan. Let us get started.”

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Warmaids, a much-vaunted asset of the Wesvalic Federation that nonetheless possessed a jealously-protected secret. Beneath their cutting-edge powered armor and strangely-designed weaponry lies the true source of their frightening destructive potential. Capable of dissociating most molecular bonds on contact, occasionally superheated, and near-always propelled forward with incredible kinetic force the battle-milk carried by a Warmaid was often more than enough to allow one of the elite supersoldiers to singlehandedly turn the tide of many a battle.

As a result, a period of relative stability known as the “Pax Wesvali” began. With the power of the Warmaids serving as a fulcrum from where they could swing the levers of global civilisation, the Federation and its allies saw incredible opportunities to grow and expand their holdings. They were not invulnerable, however, and sufficient effort and sacrifices allowed one of Wesvalin’s few remaining rivals to create Warmaids of their own. Suddenly, the peace was broken. Battlefields began to see a new tactical use of the battle-milk-wielding siegebreakers. To fight one-another.

Everywhere the War of Maidens reached was reduced to ruin, resulting in the Treaty of Erezik Pass beginning to regulate the overall power level and degree of autonomy afforded to Warmaids. Formalized indoctrination programs began, actively seeking candidates rather than waiting for them to be found. But the war cooled, and rebuilding began. Occasionally the wrong person may be given the chance to become a Warmaid and caused small-yet-tense local engagements, but overall the balance found itself in equilibrium once more.

Instead, the world turned toward a foe that all nations shared: Non-indoctrinated early generation Warmaids. Formerly disparate and prone to going it on their own, these uncontrolled elements banded together and manage to barter their protection in exchange for asylum in the nation of Rezosa. Now called the Rezosan Confederation, they had the potential to once again upset the balance and lead to another large-scale war. But the situation remained only primed, never truly detonating…

The already-reeling Wesvali, having managed to survive the War of Maidens mostly unscathed, found their good fortune reversed in an event known as “Open Source Day”. Every last remaining close-kept secret, every covert advancement and silenced misdeed, every file they had pertaining to their Warmaids was leaked to the greater world. Suddenly the technological advantage the Federation enjoyed over its rivals was gone. The resulting chaos was the backdrop for the Second War of Maidens.

This time, true total war was enacted by some sides. The Unity One international lunar habitat was destroyed and caused a cataclysmic seismic chain-collapse in its death throes, permanently scarring one of the world’s twin diligent watching satellites. Entire continents were rendered uninhabitable by unadapted organisms. Each and every advance in the danger and power of battle-milk was shown in its individual terrible glory. In the end, though, there was no winner. With both of their leaderships decimated in swift vicinity of each other, the last two great nations of the world fell…

(Dr. Elisa Asher, “Warmaids: Then and Now”)

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Now, the world persists despite the best efforts of those who came before us to end it. Sure, a combination of the Open Sourcing of Warmaid research and various industrial catastrophes and wartime atrocities have meant that everyone has at least a little warmaid in them but that doesn’t make up for the situation we were born into.

The world is broken, and the people who broke it are all long ago consigned to oblivion. Anyone with the right know-how and some halfway-functional gene-hacking gear can make their own Warmaids, nomadic towns and sprawling castle-cities evade or rebuff the hazards of the old world that remain in their own desperate ways. And the rise of Corporate States is its own bundle of worries… Still, we survive regardless.

There are rumors, though, whispers in the backs of the dens of information brokers and passed through chatter and gloating between traveling mercenaries says that something is out there in the Ruined Lands. It’s only rumors of course, but plenty of rumors have a kernel of truth at their heart.

That isn’t to say it’s all bad, though. With the fall of old powers came the spread of new ideas. Some are harmful, others beneficial, and all have their chance to spread. Those who wish to strive, whether by raiding old-world ruins or solving problems for people who need it, can rise far beyond their initial station. We all live in an era of unparalleled freedom and opportunity, for good or ill.

So if there is something that you wish to have, somewhere that you wish to reach, I encourage you to chase that hope. That is how we will return the world to how it once was…

(“The World The Maidens Made: A Survival Handbook For the New World”)

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If you’ve made it this far through this, you have my great thanks and deserve a healthy commendation. This setting is one that has been bouncing around in my head in various forms for a long time now, but it only crystalized into its true form very recently. I’ve tried to keep this as focused on setting the stage for the three ‘eras’ the world has gone through, but if you for some reason want more geeky out-of-character exposition and info you can check out the lore annex <here> (Insert link when lore annex is finished).

Though I am all ears for any story concepts of your own conception that you think would suit the world, I shall leave a few ideas of my own to consider as well.

First Era:

 

Maids Win Battles, Logistics Wins Wars:

The Warmaid Support and Logistics Division is a prestigious program that accepts only the most exceptional of candidates, pairing them (and potentially others) with a Warmaid to ensure a strong and reliable bond between a Maid and those who ensure her continued dominance upon the battlefield. Each year, a new flight of hopefuls go through a grueling training and selection process to even reach the point of being draftable, but the final hurdle is that each attendant is chosen personally by the Maid.

Though it is not a life that is long on average, the prestige of the role is immense for a reason. Attendants are the ones who will be closest to a Maid (aside perhaps from her fellow living weapons) and thus have a unique opportunity and insight to interact with these strange beings.

 

Field Promotion:

The process to become a Warmaid is not a comfortable one, but it is at least relatively reliable endeavor in a proper medical environment with observation and proper surgical technique. So-called “Field Promotions” are a whole different situation entirely. Instead of a direct mammary-gland-to-mammary gland transfer of the seed battle-milk as would be done in a more ideal setting, the desperate gamble of a Field Promotion involves the direct transfer of battle-milk from source to recipient and the hope that the latter will be durable and willful enough to survive the unimaginable pain they will undergo. Still, survival meant one had become a Warmaid.

For one who survives a Field Promotion, the change in situation is sudden and stark. New regulations, new chains and commanders, but new privileges also…

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Second Era:

 

Wars in Light, Wars in Shadow:

The introduction of non-Wesvali Warmaids to battle began a pair of twinned conflicts: One overt and one covert.

Before the eyes of the world, Warmaids fought each other and conventional forces in battles that left the landscape scarred and blasted. Brutal attrition carved entire environments away while valuable resources were thrown away in the name of territory control and conquest. With each new advancement and development in weapons technology and Warmaid research, the scales only became larger and more fraught.

Meanwhile, behind closed doors and in heavily-secured facilities, another war was waged. Though less overtly flashy, the stakes were nevertheless equally high. Spies, diplomats, and even specially-engineered Warmaids designed for infiltration and assassination fought over research and resources alike.

In both cases, prototypes and experiments have been forced into the field regardless of their true readiness. Warmaids have been deployed in a scale unlike anything seen before in the world, and everyone is feeling the effects of these decisions. Whoever and wherever you might be, nothing shall ever be the same.

 

Those Who Walked Away:

The increasing destructive power and deployment scale of Warmaids led to the development of indoctrination and loyalty-enforcement procedures to help rein in the living weapons of mass destruction. Unfortunately for those in charge, while they could train new Warmaids with these new standards many existing ones were less willing to comply with these new requirements and regulations. Though some accepted the new way of the world the majority instead chose to go AWOL, causing various amounts of collateral damage to the bases around them as they did so.

Now, those renegade Maidens live a life on the run. Hunted by their former comrades, forced to maintain their high-energy metabolisms without the supply chains that allowed them to operate in the past, and primarily propelled by the knowledge of their fate if they were to be caught, runaway Warmaids have become just another thing that the inhabitants of the world must account for.

 

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Late Era:

 

Rise From Ashes:

The wars of the past have left their scars upon the world, but life persists regardless in small survivalist enclaves and larger quasi-cities alike. Warmaids often now serve as enforcers and warlords, demons of the waste wielding their immense power in the name of whoever is lucky enough to gain their loyalty. Some have even become the subject of religious worship in the spaces that retain faith despite circumstances.

It is a hard world, but not one without opportunity. The vestiges of the Open Sourcing have allowed far more access to Warmaid conversion technology than before. Ruins of the old world offer riches beyond imagination. As long as you can hack it, the world is your oyster.

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Bonus Content:

The Warmaid concept is designed to be relatively portable, allowing them to be added to other settings with the proper worldbuilding effort and focus. As such, if you want to have the lovely ladies and their terrifying titties into another world and you have an idea to do so feel free to suggest it! In addition, I've conceptualised built-in integrations for the following settings:

Borderlands Destiny Mass Effect Fallout

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Note: THIS IS A WAR STORY. Those opposing Warmaids will likely die in horrific and ignoble ways and the women themselves both could and should be considered villains, regardless of if they are protagonists.

This is by far the longest prompt I've ever written, so I hope you found something to catch your inspiration! Or, at least, I hope that you enjoyed! My kinks are many and varied, but the ones most salient to this are use of power, lactation (both weaponized and more mundane), genetic modification, tactical aesthetics, dirty talk, corruption, redemption, and really anything related to seduction.

My limits are incest, the colon and its assorted products, and anything whose depiction violates TOS.

I hope to hear from you all, and that you have a wonderful day!