[M4F] The Emperor Protects From the Horrors of the Warp Outside, But Not From the Sin Within

The mission was simple: an excavating outpost on the fringes of the Imperium expanse had gone radio silent. The dessert planet outpost’s objective was to extract a rare mineral that a single shard of which could generate millions of gigajoules per second. Consequently, a small division of the Sisters of Battle, accompanied by three psykers including myself, the sole male, were dispatched to investigate the outpost and restore order if necessary.

Upon docking our spacecraft and conducting a thorough sweep, we’d discovered that the mining team had been brutally massacred at the mine by a group of subterranean Chaos monsters, though the colony remained fully operational. However, while we had enough weaponry to venture into the depths and even keep them at bay, we had neither the manpower or firepower to cull the infestation or resume operations. Thus, we returned to the spacecraft in order to leave the planet only for a turbulent storm to materialize out of nowhere, interfering with the colony’s communications array and keeping us permanently grounded as the tempest persisted.

That first night, we discovered the creatures were nocturnal and feared the light. But whereas we could intrude onto their domain and conduct our business as needed, they could only linger at the edges of our territory once our nightly search beams were powered into action.

And thus, a daily routine was established. Come dawn, we’d venture into their territory, desperately searching for anything that could give us a hint as to how to abate the everlasting storm. Surely the miners must’ve encountered something, anything, that manifested the storm. After all, the colony had been running smoothly for years prior to our arrival: they must’ve triggered something. Come dusk, we’d retreat to our base where we’d hopelessly attempt to rest, with whoever on guard duty surveying the monsters watching from the horizon: shifting dunes with glowing red eyes that would flee from the base’s enormous high beams. After all, they were no more eager to meet our bullets and flame than we were to their fangs and claws. A permanent stalemate.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Before long, a fruitless year had slipped by with departure no closer than when we’d landed. Though we suffered no casualties, the same could not be said for our minds.

Cracks formed. Panic rose. Surely the Imperium would’ve sent a rescue team by now. But even if they did and were hovering just above the atmosphere. What if they never came? Worse, what if they did arrive, decided rescue was impossible, and left us to fend for ourselves or until the storm abated?

One of the psykers began unravelling. The strain had grown too great, and though she did not turn to the forces of Chaos, when she wasn’t holed up in her quarters she would murmur to herself that the end was near. Though we tried to encourage her and bolster her spirits, she remained convinced that we were at death's door, and that we should take solace in what we could before it claimed us.

My faith… wavered. It would be the simplest thing in the world, to extend a late night invitation to one of the Sisters, perhaps have a servitor bring wine. Whether it my own idea or the whispers of the Warp, I did not know. Air left my lips in rattling breaths as I strained to not think, only to think, of stripping down one of the Sisters with my bare hands. After all, they weren’t the only ones who hadn’t felt the touch of the opposite sex for what felt like an eternity. I’d close my eyes to banish such sin from my mind, only to fantasize of breasts, thighs, butts, and lips, all bunched, wrapped, or pressed against me.

Then one night, when the 10 of us are gathered in the mess hell, eating wordlessly except Jasmine’s quiet, incomprehensible rambling that even the Head Sister had given up on attempting to silence, the youngest Sister broke down.

Our imminent mortality. The uncertainty of escape. The endless monotony. And surprisingly most importantly, if she was doomed do die, she deserved to at the very least re-experience a man’s body. To live her last moments not as a Sister, but as a woman. When the Head Sister came to her senses and quickly spirited away the youngster from the table, nobody could bring themselves to openly object to the confessor’s words.

That night, the storm overhead rumbled louder than ever as we all stared at the ceilings in our individual quarters, listening to the rainfall and occasional thunder crack.

A council was held the next, although I was not invited. However, at its conclusion, the Head Sister decided that in this state of emergency, she would no longer forbid indulging in the pleasures of the flesh so long as we fulfilled our daily duties. She confided in me that ‘fucking their senses back into them was preferable to having them leave their bodies altogether’. Those who needed to be comforted shall receive it and may the Emperor have mercy on our souls.

And thus, our story begins.

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More or less a zombie apocalypse harem prompt set in the Warhammer 40k universe, since I recently placed Rogue Trader and found the setting quite interesting. Sorry WH40K fans if I bastardized your universe for my perversions. Think a la Lord of the Flies but instead of killing kids maybe we make some.

Do we escape or do we not? What relationships form between not only between the sole male psyker and the women, but amongst the women themselves? Is there a development that allows our protagonists to escape, or are they condemned to die with their only consolation being that of orgasmic bliss before the end?

Relevant Kinks: hatefucking, love-making, polyamorous drama, group sex, rough sex, ignoring one’s imminent mortality by being entwined in each other’s bodies, betraying our vow to the Emperor by indulging in pleasures of the flesh, finding out which sister’s freakiest because all that chaste devoutness to the Emperor must’ve left a couple screws ready to be loosed.

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