Editing Hil'ardil

This is a story inspired by a drawfaggotry of an Eldar farseer in the midst of her transformative corruption by Slaanesh.

Involves mature themes, light transformation, and rape so far.


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== '''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 forseen 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 bretheren 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 sering, 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 unconsciouly welcomed as she sprawled out on the floor of the grounded Falcon and squirmed. It was like the pain of growth, not somthing 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 peices. She groaned as her hips became wide and delisciously 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 streched 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 forhead.

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 tought 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 exstacy, 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 garmet. 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 renued in strength and vigor. She had to have more.


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== '''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. Ahh yes, Drani’th.  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’ilth, 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’ilth. 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’ilth’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’ilth’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 feal 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 snuggly against her warm flesh. “My turn.” She said with a small, commanding growl.

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More will follow.