This is a story inspired by a drawfaggotry of an Eldar farseer in the midst of her transformative corruption by Slaanesh.
This article contains PROMOTIONS! Don't say we didn't warn you.
The following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.
 Chapter 1
Hil'ardil sighed, she was sore from combat. The farseer was aboard a fleeing falcon grav-tank, armor spattered with human blood and a helmet in her lap, a long crack running down the side from a blade that nearly took her life. For nearly half a decade she had been having skirmish after skirmish with the space marines who thought it wise to attempt to clean this planet to be colonized. She had sent them a message long before their first dance on the battlefield. Perhaps it was too subtle for the dim-witted mon'keigh? This message she was thinking of was of a chapter librarian who had wandered away from the scouting party. When these blue armored fools found him, they were met with his lifeless body staked up on a pole with still smoking holes from lance fire and deep gashes from vibroblades marring his armor. They didn't seem to think so much about the fact that the whole right half of his torso had been corrupted and twisted by the working of Slaanesh. His skin and bones were altered into vile perversions of the simple human's anatomy. Or perhaps they just attributed that to her as well.
Hil'ardil sighed again, and she wept silently for her fallen comrades. Her army had taken stiff losses at every battle. But every battle was of the most importance and they had 'won' so far, if that term could even apply to the already thinning population of their craftworld. Little did the bumbling blue armored brutes know that this planet held a force far more sinister than that perceived by the mon'keigh. Deep below the surface of this world was a buried city of the Eldar. A city that existed long before The Birth, but not after. The soil filled halls held the spirits of daemons and fallen Eldar of the most vicious attitude and most horrendous strength. There was no telling how much damage would be done if they were not stopped from eventually unearthing the relics. Actually, there was, and Hil'ardil had seen it. It was apocalyptic sights of chaos unfiltered, bloodshed, and things more vile than even Hil'ardil had ever foreseen before. She had to stop it.
She sighed a third time, she was weary. Oh so weary. She had been fighting for so long that she could not imagine a future where she would not be fighting, and she hadn't foreseen anything of that like. Why did she have to fight? Was it her who had given rise to their great enemy? No, she had not, but she still had to pay for her ancestor's mistakes. She and all her brethren and sisters had to. It was their duty, it was their charge. But it was so difficult. She knew she had to be strong, to lead her kind to a better future. If not for them, then for the universe. But why would the dull savage greenskins, or those even more naive blue skinned tau, or even those foolish simple minded Mon'keigh deserve a better life at her hand when she was doomed to a life of misery and then death? She just wished for a moment that she could take a break, to find something she could enjoy. She just wished for a moment that she could just quit.
A moment was all it took.
A bright flash of purple light flooded the cabin of the grav-tank. It startled the four Dire Avengers who shared the ride, and they rose from their seats. Hil'ardil let out a scream, her hands clasping her head as she curled up in her seat. "M'lady! What is it!?" The nearest fellow Eldar kneeled down by the troubled leader, concern showing deeply in his un-masked face.
"NO! GET AWAY!" The farseer yelled. One could not be sure from her words who she yelled at, the ones in the tank or the ones in her head. In the end, the repercussions had their own voice. A ripple of psychic force exploded out from Hil'ardil, throwing the recently unseated Eldar against the walls of the tight cabin with crushing force and rocking the grav-tank. The four bodies lay like limp toys around the cabin. None dead, but each unconscious and battered. The wave apparently reached the driver as well. The Falcon started to dip quickly, and crashed down on its belly, the skiff digging into the soft earth and bringing the tank vehicle to a quick halt, throwing most of the now silent passengers to the front.
"STOP!" She yelped again, a little more frantic this time, curled up in the corner she had been thrown to. The bright purple light flashed through the cabin again. Its source was obvious this time. The soulstones adorning her wraithbone armor shimmered and flickered as powerful energies combated inside them. In another instant the protective stones cracked, and then shattered into dust that glittered in the air for a few seconds before laying as a useless decoration on the floor.
Then came the pain. It wasn't like any other pain she had felt before. It wasn't the searing, burning pain of a glancing plasma round. It wasn't the crushing, brutal ache of being thrown by a crude Stikbomb. It was something else. Something she unconsciously welcomed as she sprawled out on the floor of the grounded Falcon and squirmed. It was like the pain of growth, not something to avoid, but something to embrace. It bent her bone and stretched her muscle, re-shaping her inch by inch.
The first thing that happened was that her body swelled. The entirety of her lithe frame grew more robust. It started in her hips. The wraithbone armor creaked as its infamous strength was put to the test. Her fingers grasped at the restrictive armor, managing to pry off the most rigid pieces. She groaned as her hips became wide and deliciously round. The changes continued up to her torso. Her petite bosom began pressing on the inside of her chest plates. Her hands clawed at the now painfully restrictive solid armor, prying it off. With a gasp, her breasts swelled forward with a rush, stretching the fabric of the clothing near its holding point.
She was feeling it. She was feeling pleasure. Pure, unlimited pleasure.
The rest of her body filled out as well, her thighs becoming just the right luscious size, her breasts a tad bigger yet, the soft lumps of tender flesh reaching a large D size. The previously comfortable non-restricting clothing she had worn was now a taught black suit stretched over her modified form. Small holes were torn in a few places where the fabric could just not take the pressure, and it showed off her perfect skin underneath.
Hil'adril panted, her hands shakily reaching up to her plump feminine lumps. As she rubbed her hands over then, she gasped deeply, a pleasure like she had never felt slammed into her consciousness. As she continued to fondle her immense bosom, her skin started to change colors. The white of her pale skin started to take on a purplish-blue hue and small bumps began to form on her forehead.
She felt a hot burning passion in another place on her body...a lower place. It was something that was completely foreign to her. She had been taught from birth that it was something one had to deny and not even acknowledge. She panted as she lowered her hand down past her stomach. She could feel the body heat radiating off of her. She moaned out in a high, strained voice when her fingers contacted the clothing over her groin. Every nerve was set on edge, just waiting for a stimulus to nudge it into the deepest euphoria. She rubbed slowly, and then faster and faster, massaging the part of her body she had neglected for over a century. She moaned out lewdly, louder and louder as the fabric got wetter and wetter with her hot feminine juices.
It only took a few minutes for the once pure Eldar to scream out in the climax of her unbridled ecstasy, her body tensing up and quivering. The bumps on her head cleanly opened up, short black horns sprouting through and her golden hair becoming stained from the root up with a light purple tint. She stuck out her hips behind her, as it pushing back against some imaginary force as a short but thick stub of a tail tore through the rear of her stressed garment. She stood there shivering for a moment more before falling back against one of the seat of the cabin, her breath raspy pants. She let out small groans as she squirmed softly, loving her new form, and she knew who had given it to her...Slaanesh. Hil'ardil thanked the vile being before standing back up, strangely renewed in strength and vigor. She had to have more.
 Chapter 2
A small shiver ran up Hil’ardil’s spine. She had to figure out what to do next. Then she had an interesting thought. There were 4 other people in this Falcon, not to mention the driver. She grinned widely, turning over one of the still armored Avengers. Ah yes, Dra’lith. She was quite the vicious warrior. She knew each one of them by heart, their souls as familiar to her as the corridors of their craftworld.
Her hands moved deftly across her armor, quickly releasing it and tossing the light material aside. She noticed her fingernails were much longer…In fact they seemed a little thicker and tougher than normal fingernails but they were smooth all around, not a sharp point on them. She paid it no attention and looked down at Dra’lith, her body now covered solely by tight fabric, her modest breasts finally released from the constricting male-formed armor.
Her heart raced slightly as she grinned widely. Her hand slowly traced the curve of the woman’s figure, barely touching the fabric. She grabbed the collar of the undergarment, quickly tearing it down the middle, with only a slight mumble of unconsciousness coming from Dra’lith. Finally, Hil’ardil could see the tender beautiful flesh. Each square inch of it was more enticing than the last.
Hil’ardil stroked her hand down slowly over Dra’lith’s shoulder and rounding her breasts. The woman let out a soft groan and writhed a little, finally beginning to recover from the earlier shock. The former farseer’s heart skipped a beat. She knew she would resist and fight her…She had to make sure that didn’t happen. Hil’ardil reached over to the pile of Dra’lith’s cast off armor, plucking a slender wraithbone dagger from its sheath on a thigh plate.
Hil’ardil speedily, but carefully, excised the clothing from the still unconscious and now mostly nude elder. She left only the bits on Dra’lith’s lower legs and arms, figuring it too difficult to remove without waking the sleeping beauty prematurely. She sliced the scraps into strips, quickly tying Dra’lith’s wrists together and tying another piece that encircled her head, crossing her mouth as a gag. She moved Dra’lith so that she was sitting up against the side of the falcon, trying her bound wrists to a loop made for a cargo hook, then she stood to admire her work and the beautiful body that lay bound below her. She decided to leave her own tight clothes on for the moment, loving the snug feel they had on her sensitive flesh.
By now, Dra’lith’s soft blue eyes were fluttering open slightly. She let out a quiet, pained groan as a massive headache lingered upon her. Her sight was a bit blurry and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear it up. She looked up at the standing Hil’ardil, blinking still. “Unnhh…Mfffnn-ffu nuhh?” It took a moment to register that her speech was garbled by the piece of cloth. Hil’ardil leaned down and grinned widely, the white of her eyes now black as obsidian.
Even with her still slightly blurred sight, Dra’lith could see the changes that had come about in her once glorious farseer. Dra’lith let out a worried whine as she tried to inch away from the new daemonette. Hil’ardil let out a soft chuckle and straddled the helpless Avenger’s legs. “Shhhh…” She said with a deeply sinister tone. Hil’ardil gently kissed Dra’lith cheek, savoring the feel of the perfect flesh against her soft lips. Her tongue slid out, licking up the side of the captive’s face, eliciting another whimper and a renewed struggle against the tight bonds on her wrists. Hil’ardil found that her tongue, while feeling perfectly normal, could extend nearly six inches from her mouth.
“Shhhh…” Hil’ardil said again, firmly grasping Dra’lith’s chin and making her look into her eyes. Her hands traveled down the elegant feminine figure, stopping at her bosom. Despite the small size of Dra’lith’s B cup compared to Hil’ardil’s daemonically enhanced large D’s, the body made thrilled Hil’ardil more and more as she looked at it. Her hands rubbed and massaged the tender mounds while she grinning with excitement. Dra’lith let out another series of grunts and whimpers, squirming under the weight of her assailant. She was trying to tell her once beloved farseer no, to tell her to stop, that she didn’t want it. Even if Hil’ardil could hear her protests, she would give them no heed.
Hil’ardil scooted down Dra’lith’s thighs enough so that she could lean down to the hostage’s chest. She kissed the plump lump of flesh on her chest, receiving another groan from her subject. This groan was slightly different, however. Dra’lith was still fighting it, but now she was feeling what Hil’ardil wanted to give to her. She gave her prisoner’s short nipple a gentle nibble, after all, that’s felt natural to her now. Dra’lith’s chest arched out in reaction, another worried whine slipping past the cloth gag.
Hil’ardil scooted back even farther, ready to continue her invasive intentions. Dra’lith took this opportunity to try and free herself. She managed to slip her legs out from under Hil’ardil and went for a hard kick to the ex-farseer’s face. Hil’ardil leaned easily away, the kick missing her by several inches to the side. Hil’ardil’s hand quickly grabbed her ankle and held it firmly to her shoulder. Dra’lith quickly followed up this attack with her other foot, receiving the exact same result.
Now that Hil’ardil had her captive restrained again, she continued. She moved forward, sliding her head up between Dra’lith’s legs. She lifted Dra’lith’s hips, situating the prisoner’s thighs on her shoulders. Hil’ardil’s face was now nearly flush with Dra’lith’s bare groin. Dra’lith gave one last struggle, trying to squeeze her legs together to stop what she knew was coming. Hil’ardil easily held her thighs apart, her strength augmented by the daemonic power pumped into her.
Without a word, Hil’ardil pushed her lips up against Dra’lith’s slit, snaking her half foot tongue into her warm insides. Dra’lith tried to scream for help, her eyes clenching shut and her body tightening up. Her scream was almost completely muffled by the cloth in her mouth. The sound was music to Hil’ardil’s ears. She wriggled her tongue, pushing and sliding against Dra’lith’s wet walls, violating her innermost depths.
Hil’ardil groaned deeply. She loved the taste of the slick juices inside Dra’lith. She loved how her captive still squirmed and fought. She loved how she was in complete control.
Hil’ardil continued to work her tongue in Dra’lith’s tight sex. The dexterous and long appendage touched every nook and cranny, searching for the spot that elicited the best responses. As she persisted, Dra’lith’s muffled screams mumbling and struggles began to die down.
It was getting harder and harder for Dra’lith to deny the signals her body was sending her. She found herself no longer squirming to try and escape, but her body writhing and twisting, trying to get that tongue to hit the right place again. It was as if she couldn’t control it. Her screams and protests melted into groans of pleasure. Her mind still refused to acknowledge the feeling, but her body was rebelling.
Hil’ardil grinned as she watched the once rejected feelings begin to have more and more effect on Dra’lith. She accelerated her efforts with vigor, her tongue quickening its pushing, sliding around and even pumping in Dra’lith’s pussy. Dra’lith was starting to give up on trying to get out of the situation she was in.
And that’s when it started.
Dra'lith's skin began to take on a hue much like Hil'ardil's. Additionally, with each moan and delightful shiver that Dra’lith accepted, her bosom expanded. It took no time for the hostage of pleasure to gain a chest whose size was much like that of her captor. Dra’lith panted and groaned, her will finally broken. Her hips pushed up eagerly to the daemonette’s lips, wanting more, and Hil’ardil obliged.
It took only a few more minutes of lewd workings by Hil’ardil’s tongue to push the transforming Dire Avenger over the edge. She howled out in delight, still nearly muted by the gag. Her golden, shoulder length hair became raven black along with her finger and toenails.
Hil’ardil let the corrupted Eldar warrior's hips down. She let her pant, groan and squirm in delight as she basked in the afterglow. Hil’ardil licked her lips, grinning widely and looked down at Dra’lith for a few second before leaning down to slip off the ribbon of a mouth gag.
Hil’ardil grabbed at the fabric still covering her own needy slit and tore it open to expose her hot lips to the air. She pushed her hips up in Dra’lith’s face, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her nose snugly against her warm flesh. “My turn.” She said with a small, commanding growl.
Dra’lith let out a small groan as she felt her lips pressed up against the smooth skin of her leader. She nodded obediently at the implied command. Her tongue gently slunk from her mouth and brushed over Hil’ardil’s warm flesh. She gasped and moaned as the wet tongue caressed her hot folds. Dra’lith eagerly kissed and continued her marvelous attentions, her tongue gently diving into her leader’s flesh.
Hil’ardil groaned and bucked her hips up against Dra’lith’s wonderful tongue. She would have to do this more often...MUCH more often. Dra’lith’s tongue explored Hil’ardil’s warm wet walls, finding the texture, the warmth, and the taste absolutely marvelous. Her tongue pushed deeper, seeking more approving groans and gasps from the woman who had complete control over her.
Hil’ardil panted and reached her free hand up to her own large breast. She grabbed herself firmly and squeezed and massaged her beautiful chest mound. She wanted to find anything that gave her that one step up of pleasure. Her slit dripped with her love juices. Her arousal grew with each passing moment. “Deeper.” Hil’ardil commanded with a growl.
Dra’lith obliged, grinding her nose against her leader’s, now slave master’s, clit. Her tongue pushed as deep as she could get it, snaking around and stimulating each and every nerve she could get at. Hil’ardil moaned out louder and louder, her knees quivering slightly with the immense pleasure until she finally climaxed. Her inner walls throbbed and squeezed on the tongue in her. Some of her hot love juices spilled out onto Dra’lith’s face as Hil’ardil’s hand grabbed the back of Dra’lith’s head, pulling it even tighter against her groin.
As she let out a loud howl of pleasure, the horns on her head lengthened several inches, as did her stub of tail. Her nail became longer, hooking slightly as they began to look like claws.
Eventually, Hil’ardil came down from her wonderful orgasm. She released the corrupted female Avenger’s head, panting deeply as she grinned down as the still tied girl. “Mmm…Well done.” She looked around her as she heard a little bit of shuffling and a scattered groan or two. It looked like the other two Avengers were waking up. Oh what fun.
 Chapter 3
The two physically warped Eldar worked quickly and swiftly, their lust filled minds driving them to go further and further for pleasure. They quickly took off the last shreds of their clothing and set about stripping both the remaining warriors of their armor and undergarments. Brakel and Fineath were their names, two of the more skilled Dire Avengers in their assault group… And two of the most handsome males as well.
As those two continued to awaken, the Daemonettes worked quickly. Brakel was laid flat on his back, his wrists tied above his head to a power conduit running up the wall. Fineath’s hands were tied above his head to a loop on the roof of the cabin and he was stood up against the side of Falcon’s interior. As both of their eyes fluttered slightly as they woke up, each were met with a wicked grin from a depraved and transformed Eldar: Hil’ardil to Fineath and Dra’lith to Brakel.
“By the Old Ones…” Fineath muttered under his breath. Hil’ardil let out a small chuckle, pressing herself up against the standing Eldar. “They can’t help you here.” She said, wiggling her shoulder a little and rubbing her large breasts up against the male’s toned chest. Brakel just stared in disbelief at the nude Dra’lith who was straddling his stomach. Both of the males had athletic figures, their muscles well toned, shown off even more by their lightly tanned bodies.
 Part A
- “Release me you corrupted whore!” Fineath commanded. Hil’ardil smirked and chuckled again. “Not a chance.” With that she got down on her knees, so she could get level with the part of the male that held her attention the most. She kissed softly up and down the currently flaccid length, her mind hot with desire and anticipation. Fineath bit his lip softly, blocking the thought of pleasure from his mind. “Stop!” He shouted again, his legs trying to rise up to kick at Hil’ardil. She smirked and grabbed his thighs firmly, her daemonic strength making it difficult for the powerful warrior to move his legs even an inch.
- Hil’ardil found it surprisingly easy to get Fineath’s above average shaft rigid. It was easy to get the body to betray the mind. Now to get the mind to betray itself… That’s what she wanted. Hil’ardil wrapped her lips around the tip of the Eldar’s shaft, suckling softly with a light whoreish groan. Fineath let out a grunt as he tried to put his mind as far away from this situation as he could, but she didn’t make it easy on him.
- She slowly lowered her head, drawing out another grunt from her bound subject as she took every bit of him into her mouth. She grinned to herself. After all, it was just a matter of time. With her tongue pressed firmly up against the underside of the warm meat she began bobbing slowly and deliberately. Fineath began struggling again, but was completely unable to change his position. He kept his mouth closed, afraid to let out a moan on accident.
- Hil’ardil groaned more as she worked Fineath’s shaft, the vibrations from her throat reverberating down the solid appendage. Fineath leaned his head back as he continued to refuse the thought of receiving satisfaction from this perversion of his leader. Hil’ardil kept at him, his body unable to reject what his mind did. It did feel good. Oh GOD it felt good, but he wouldn’t accept it, he refused it, and Hil’ardil wasn’t about to give up: breaking the will was one of the most fun parts.
- Her tongue shifted around and licked at his shaft as she bobbed faster, trying to draw the stubborn Eldar closer and closer to his pinnacle of pleasure. Fineath’s mind was strong, but unfortunately that’s not the only thing that mattered. His body reacted naturally to the attentions, sending more and more waves of pleasure to crash against his consciousness.
- It built quickly, each second bringing him closer and closer. He growled and struggled again, but she shifted as well, her tongue tickling in just the right spots to bring out more feelings of delight. He refused it, but it was still coming. He couldn’t stop it, but he could refuse to enjoy it. He even let out a tiny stifled moan as she sucked firmer and rolled her tongue more against him. Just when he thought he was about to his peak, he clenched his eyes and braced mind… but he felt her pull off.
- Hil’ardil grinned up at him, licking her lips as she stood back up, leaving the wetted shaft hanging in the air. He panted softly, glaring at her. She knew she could take her time. She was going to work him up, over and over, always stopping one step short of the finish line. She wasn’t going to let him orgasm until she knew she had broken him.
 Part B
- Brakel still didn’t say a word. He just looked worriedly at the daemon infused woman sitting atop him. Dra’lith giggled and slid back softly, grinding her luscious hips down over his. She rubbed her hot, wet slit over the man’s limp shaft, groaning to herself as even the simplest touch made her mind reel in bliss. Brakel struggled silently, squirming on the ground, trying to get his hands free, trying to remove the stimulating massage, trying for anything.
- She let out a pleading groan, her hip rubbing up and down his as she kept him pinned. “Come on….” Her supple breasts bounced softly as she rubbed her wet netherlips over his rod. In no time, he was at full mast. His throbbing length squeezed between him and her waiting body. “Ooooh, that’s more like it.” She grinned as she gyrated her hips down a little more to tease the tied avenger.
- She leaned forward, her breasts just inches from Brakel’s face, and lifted her hips. She reached a hand back, pointing the pulsing shaft upwards. With a swift, smooth motion, she slipped the head of his hard member into her wet slit and pushed down. As she took in every bit of him and ground her hips against his, her chest arched and she let out a sharp moan. Brakel bit his lip harder, his hips involuntarily bucking up at her.
- Dra’lith grinned as she let the wonderful feelings wash over her. She knew Brakel wasn’t as ‘tough’ as Fineath, and she was going to have some fun with that. She slowly started bouncing on his lap, her wet walls hugging tightly against the warm meat inside her. She moaned lewdly, her plump, soft breasts bouncing with her as she rode the helpless Eldar. Brakel let out a small, restrained whimper as he tried to do what he knew he was supposed to do, but it was tough with so much feeling rushing through his body.
- She plunged him in and out of her faster, groaning out gently and coaxingly. “Oh…you feel so good inside me.” Brakel wasn’t able to keep his eyes off of her bouncing, curvaceous body. She was so incredibly enticing. It was only the threat of eternal damnation that kept him from taking joy in his situation. And the Great Enemy could work through even that small of a conduit.
- Dra’lith’s body worked Brakel’s, chipping away slowly but surely at his will. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly and repeatedly, her hips still rising and falling rhythmically. Brakel turned his face away from the tainted woman. She smirked and kissed down his neck, biting gently now and then as she took full advantage of him.
- Before long, Brakel was nearing his high point and it showed. He grunted and groaned, biting his lip and squirming. The Slaaneshi whore moaned in his ear, showing him how good he made her feel. Brakel whimpered softly, his mind silently begging her not to continue, but his body saying the opposite. Dra’lith saw it coming and she worked him closer and closer to it. And just when he thought she was going to force it on him, she took it away. She slipped her hips up and off his still throbbing member and sat back up, straddling his stomach. Her wet slit pressed warmly against the Eldar’s firm stomach. She grinned down at him wickedly, knowing that currently he was her toy and playing with him was fun.
 Part C
Hil'ardil pushed open the door of the Falcon's cockpit. She found Al'vair, the driver, shaking off his unconsciousness. When he saw the daemonette smiling wickedly in front of him, he pulled out his shuriken pistol, only to have it kicked out of his hand. He threw himself backwards through the Falcon's broken windshield, intending to escape, but Hil'ardil moved like lightning and caught his leg, dragging him back inside. She pinned him down and stripped him. Laying down on his torso, she stroked his meat with one hand while playing with her nipples with the other. Al'Vair started murmuring colorful oaths and swear words, struggling to get out. She ignored him, sliding his man-shaft into her cleavage and squeezing her breasts together around it. She kept thrusting his hard cock between her soft breasts and licking its tip, driving Al'Vair to arousal against his will. She could tell, because he started shouting his frustration, using some very creative language to express what was going on.
Inspired by the perseverance of his fellow, Brakel found the strength to tear through his bonds. He picked up the shuriken pistol Al'Vair had dropped and primed it.
More will follow.
- > And lo, Brakel's meaty man-shaft shuddered forth gouts of pubescently-honed semen, and at that precise instant the sound of familiar Eldar cries rose from outside the Gravtank's bent outer hull door. It was Elathrililil, Elder Eldar Farseer, who had fought his way the entire time to this freshly-befouled den of Slaanesh; the locks hissed and whirred and the Farseer opened the door, got on the floor, everbody walk the dinosaur.
Er, hopefully something more satisfying.