TWINS THEY WERE

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Tankred awoke. Not to the normal monotonous chanting of robed technophiles, but something his long inactive brain insisted was much, much better.

Giggling intermingled throughout the darkened engineer's bay along with the gentle hum of machinery.

Under a single lone light, on top of a hastily cleared engineer's desk sat a single Sister of Battle. Tankred frowned mentally as he noticed her top half was devoid of robe, a breach in Imperial regulation right there! He waited for the familiar white-hot rush of rage to fill him but instead felt a numbing sense of calm. His brain gave him yet another nudge and he was reminded that in his past life, he would have thoroughly enjoyed this.

The Sister of Battle had her head turned upwards, eyes closed, biting her lip to stop herself from making anymore noise. Her exposed breasts moved up and down with a firm, hypnotic rhythm that even Tankred found hard not to stare at, her hips grinding slowly on the table.

Her lips parted for a second to let out a quiet, satisfied moan and then Tankred spotted the second Sister. She was planted on her knees while her hands firmly gripped her companion's hips, her head down between the first Sister's thighs.

Tankred was pretty sure this constituted heresy of some form but couldn't bring himself to stop them. He would watch them further. If only to document their vile act in its entirety.

He willed his on-board visual encoder to activate. It came on with a quiet beep that was lost amidst the growing noise the pair where making. He set it to record. For proof of acts most heretical.

The encoder began to whir just as the Sister on the table lay back on the table, back arched. She moaned once and before she could do it again, bit her lip firmly again, drawing a drop of blood.

The other Sister came up from the floor, a wide grin on her face. She used her fingers to continue the work her mouth had been occupied with. She brought herself up onto the table, legs spread to allow Tankred a clear view. He was pretty sure that anyway you cut it, what she was doing with her hand was enough to warrant Exterminatus.

She laid her own body across that of her shuddering Sister, holding her firm to the cold steel tabletop. She brought her face to hers and using her tongue licked another drop of blood from her companion's lips before kissing it fiercely. She withdrew her hand, dripping wet, and pinned the other Sister down. The table began to shake violently.

As he watched them grind each other, his brain fumbled. It was pretty sure something was supposed to rise in this situation but rage seemed hardly appropriate. So it improvised.

An inactive light came crashing down to the floor as a single fist whipped up with a speed Tankred was unused to.

He watched both women jump off the table. In a matter of moments both had donned their robes off the floor and were looking somber again. It was done so fast Tankred deduced this was something they had practiced before. Only a widening puddle under the robe of one Sister was proof of what had conspired.

They looked at him apprehensively. "Maybe he's broken?" One ventured. The other shook her head. "They don't break."

He managed to bring down his fist.

"And he's definitely active." She scowled. The other one, more timid, blushed. "Did...did he-"

The other one noticed the blinking encoder. She laughed. "Not only that, he's been recording us."

The timid one let out a despairing moan.

Tankred hurried to switch the thing off, but in his haste did something far more damaging.

His fist began to vibrate as actuator motors malfunctioned. However, it didn't crackle with a deadly nimbus. Power lines showed it wasn't hooked up appropriately. His brain cackled in delight as he tried desperately to shut it off. No use, it was locked in combat mode.

Both Sisters looked shocked but slowly, their grins returned.

The commanding one led the timid one to his fist. She began to rub her through her robe, eliciting yet another groan.

"St-stop!" The timid one cried though she made no real move of resistance. The other one grinned wickedly.

"You've been a bad girl. And bad girls are punished."

Tankred almost chimed in with the cliché 'The Emperor wills it!', but felt this was neither the time nor the place.

She pushed her Sister onto the stubs that fashioned Tankred's fist. She placed one nub on each breast, the last to the crotch. The victim struggled half-heartedly, but the drool from her now open mouth and the wet gleam on her thigh told Tankred he was far from done.

The commanding Sister, far from content, attacked her from behind. Tankred felt the sensor on his finger stubs report a further hardening of the nipples. Any harder and you could've cracked a Space Marine on them.

The timid one, stuck between Tankred and her would-be Battle Sister, was lost in a sea of ecstasy. She had given up completely on trying to keep silent and only shortness of breath kept her from screaming in delight.

The violent vibrations carried through the one body into the next, a fact not lost to the first Sister who had pressed herself tight against her shuddering comrade.

Tankred noticed that she too now had wet thighs and was struggling to keep her own moans in check. In a rare flash of opportunity, he moved his top two stubs out of position. He rose the other one, offering it to them like a seat.

Ah well, better they were closer so he could document it in more detail.

This time the timid one took the lead. Mounting the stub, she pulled the other Sister on. Both discarded whatever robing hadn't already fallen off and both held tight to each other, kissing at each other passionately.

Tankred noted that his stub was getting increasingly wet now that the two had mounted his finger like a saddle horse. He would have to get that cleaned.

They gripped tightly to each other, both breathing heavily, mouths locked. They separated suddenly, mouths forming a silent moan that went unheard but not unnoticed. Tankred noticed a sudden influx of fluid on the finger stub. It leaked into the joints and internal sensors noted it wasn't as clean as he thought it'd be.

Tankred felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. His brain called it satisfaction. It confused him.

But so did the extent of the fluid they had offloaded on him. And now, too, there was hair. He raised his voxcaster to speak to them but paused.

They were speaking to each other, mouths stretched open forming words that were not human.

And that's when it hit him.

They were whales.

He finally noticed the internal warning klaxon indicating extreme stress and struggled futilely to move his finger under their extreme weight. No success. A few moments later it snapped off completely.

Both whales wallowed in a pool of their own making. Laughing at him in their own way. He felt the rage rise again. He had been tricked! By animals no less!

It fueled him and with a mechanical screech he tore himself away from the loading rig that had held him still. His autocannon whirred to life and the remaining fingers clicked together with a deadly buzz, energy now flowing through them.

"Fool!" The words bashed through his unprotected mind, uninvited guests that they were. "Know the true power of Chaos!"

He found his voice again. "FOUL BEASTS! LET US BE RID OF YOU."

His autocannon roared into action. Bullet after bullet slammed into their meaty frames, tearing chunk after chunk of corrupted flesh off their frames.

A hollow laughter filled his head.

"Fool! You cannot defeat us!"

Both whales rose into the air, levitation no doubt another gift from their dark gods. He kept his autocannon trained on them, ready to unleash another salvo once it had cooled down, advancing at a steady pace.

He would never have the chance. Crooked spires burst forth from their eyes and laser beams raked his entire metal body. His autocannon arm was sheared off in the initial blast.

He roared in anger. They were laughing at him! They thought him weak!

"TANKRED IS NOT WEAK!"

He built up speed, gaining ground as they floated away.

"TANKRED IS STRONG!"

He listened to the steady pound of his feet as they gathered in momentum. He lowered his fist, closing it into a tight ball and aimed it like a lance.

"TANKRED WILL PREVAIL!"

They tried to float away, borne on evil wings, but they were not fast enough. Tankred reached critical speed and was running towards them faster than they could retreat.

One last final effort from his legs, a clashing scream of metal and gears as they finally gave out, he leaped at them, power fist flying towards them like a deadly missile.

"TANKRED'S FIST IS THE FIST THAT WILL PIERCE THE HEAVENS."

Their psychic screams were lost to the Warp as they exploded into so much bloody gore.