What if the Primarchs were Women?

At the heart of the Imperium of Man lied the throne-world of Terra, from which all of humanity was descended. Once, in a time remembered by a very few, Terra had been a place of great natural beauty. A planet of azure blue oceans and vast, diverse environments. Rolling green hills, towering mountain ranges, scorching deserts and bountiful forests. Those days were long gone however. In the 31st millennium, Terra's natural beauty had been long stripped away from war and greed. Its oceans had long dried up and its soil so soaked in pollutants that no life could ever purchase in it again. Even the very air had been left scarred, so choked with pollutants and smog that the very sun struggled to make it past the haze of smog and only the very tallest spires of Hive cities and the Imperial Palace itself could breach past it.

Yet, on some days, when the fog was at its thinnest, even below the towering spires of Terra's cities, a lucky few of the billions upon billions of lives that call the Throne-World home might be able to see the magnificence of Terra's open skies. During the day, you could see the luminescent majesty of the sun and feel its gentle warmth. At night, you might bear witness to the sea of stars, the distant sister-planets of the Sol System among them. Or, perhaps, you might gaze on the pearly light of Luna, Terra's oldest companion and from whom the Warmaster's Legion earned their first name.

Of course, depending on just where you're looking, you might be surprised to find that Terra has acquired a second moon. Moored hundreds of thousands of feet of the Empress of Mankind's very own Imperial Palace was what to the uninitiated might appear to be a massive asteroid, radiating with brilliant golden light. But this second satellite was no moon, nor was it a mere asteroid trapped in Terra's orbit like Phobos and Deimos of the Holy Forge-World of Mars. No, this was the Phalanx, a truly massive starship unlike anything ever seen in the history of the Imperium of Man. Built sometime during the Dark Age of Technology, before the Men of Iron rose against their human creators, the Phalanx had been left adrift in the cosmic void of the galaxy until fate saw fit that it be delivered just above the orbit of an ice-world known as Inwit.

As it so happened, Inwit had become the home of another of mankind's greatest creations: a Primarch. Regalia Dorn, Praetorian of Terra and Primarch-Progenitor of the Seventh Astartes Legion – the Imperial Fist, had been found amidst the endless glacial wastelands of Inwit and taken in by the human population. Like her mother before her, Regalia had risen from obscurity to become Inwit's Empress and from the Ice-World, she created an inter-planetary empire. And what better palace could there have been than the unyielding might of the Phalanx?

Despite all its might and the might of its empress, however, Regalia's empire was never meant to last. Its death did not come at the hands of another conquering empire, nor the slow decay of corruption and stagnation, but at the hands of Regalia's own mother. When the Great Crusade came to inwit, led by the Empress herself, Regalia bent the knee to her mother almost instantly. The Praetorian, stalwart and practical, recognized the superiority of her mother's empire and the strength behind it and new Inwit would remain strong under the Imperium's banner. As proof of her loyalty, Regalia surrendered her beloved Phalanx to her mother, believing the Empress of Mankind to be a superior master for the ancient warship. Much to Regalia's shock, however, the Empress declined her offer and instead returned the Phalanx to her daughter along with her Legion.

Thus Regalia Dorn's unshakable loyalty to the Empress and her Imperium was born. A loyalty that has been indispensable to the Great Crusade, as each planet the Imperial Fists encounter are not only brought to compliance incredibly quickly, but are rebuilt in mere months by the industrious legion. Indeed, Dorn's eye for architecture had not gone unnoticed by her mother, and so her and her legion have been recalled to Terra for a role almost as prestigious as being named Warmaster: the construction of the Imperial Palace and its defenses.

To the ignorant, this might not seem as glamorous a task as leading the Great Crusade, but Regalia knew better. She, above all her sisters, had been entrusted with the design and safety of the Empress of Mankind's very own sanctum. It was a task Regalia took to with a burning passion, a rare sight from the infamously stoic Primarch. For nearly two centuries, Regalia Dorn and her Imperial Fists had been completely reworking the sprawling palace from the ground up, turning the already formidable stronghold into a splendorous palace that could match the majesty of the Mistress of Mankind. As populous as any hive-city, the Imperial Palace encompassed nearly the entirety of the Himalazia mountains and was surrounded by walls that were thirty meters in width and taller than any mega-spire. Its majesty was coated in a golden façade that shone with such light that even distant, smog-covered Mars could see its light. Truly, under the painstaking care of Regalia Dorn, the Imperial Palace had become a worthy home for the Empress of all of humanity.

But… that was then, and it was becoming more and more clear that in the civil war to come, there could be little room for things of such splendor. With the threat of the Warmaster Isis Lupercal and her growing rebellion against the greater Imperium, the threat that Terra – and be extension, the Empress herself – was made undeniable apparent. Much to Dorn's anguish, she now had no choice but to uproot two centuries of her life's work to prepare the Imperial Palace for a siege like none the galaxy had known ever before or ever again. That beatific façade she had spent decades upon decades perfecting was to be torn up as her Imperial Fists went to diligent work fortifying and refortifying the heart of the Imperium itself.

Like in all things, Regalia Dorn took to this new task with extreme and unyielding dedication and purpose, yet not even she could ignore the heartache such a labor caused her. From her personal chambers aboard the mighty Phalanx, Regalia Dorn watched thousands of miles above Terra as her daughters steadily refitted the Imperial Palace as per her designs. She watched until the sight grew to burdensome for even her to bare, and finally turned away from the viewing screen with a heavy heart. With her head so burdened, the Praetorian of Terra knew there was only one solution to her bout of melancholy.

Slowly, Regalia stripped away the immaculate golden power armor that she wore, piece by piece, until not a single piece of ceramite remained. Beneath the golden power armor was a black body suit, made from a thin but incredibly durable material that hugged every contour of the Primarch's curvy, amazonian body. This too was stripped away, leaving Regalia Dorn completely bare within her private sanctum, the brilliant light of the Imperial Palace itself bathing every inch of her powerful and voluptuous body in soft orange light.

Leaving her effects behind her, Regalia approached a large sarcophagus-like apparatus sitting in the corner of her sanctum. It resembled a massive, silver cylinder with a clear window in front. Within the cylinder hung a black body-glove not unlike the one that Regalia wore under her armor. This device was known simply as the Pain Glove. As the rather gruesome name implied, it was a Dark Age of Technology torture device that instilled in its wearer overwhelming pain through the use of electric pulses to stimulate the nerve-endings of the skin. As to why the ever straight-laced and dutiful Regalia Dorn owned such a device, there was a reason. Regalia was a firm believer in the idea that pain could scour the mind and body of impurities, leaving one clean and clear-headed for any tasks. It was a belief that she was not alone in sharing. The Khan and her White Scars practiced ritualist scarification and Vulkana and her Salamanders branded themselves as acts of devotion.

Yet, Regalia did not care to needlessly damage her body and so turned to the Pain Glove. The device in her chamber was a refined version of an earlier model that administered electrical discharges through the Black Carapace that connected her nervous system to her armor. Unlike similar models used by her legion however, this one did not need an external operator. Opening the hatch in the cylinder's flank, Regalia entered the glass chamber and, standing dead in the center and well away from the walls so they might not be damaged should she struggle, activated the Pain Glove. As soon as the device rumbled to life, the body-glove began to move. Under its own power, the black bodysuit wrapped itself around the Primarch's buxom body, gripping her every curve like a vice and hugging her chest so well that each massive breast was individually defined. Its grip compressed her ribs like a great corset, making each breath short and strained, yet Regalia adored it.

The bodysuit itself was made from a flexible but resilient compound of electro-fibers that were studded with bio-monitors. The only hard part of the glove was the neck-piece, a cumbersome collar equipped with more sensors and chemical injectors. The collar served as both a neck brace to prevent her from accidentally snapping her own neck when her muscles spasmed and as an opiate-blocker to keep her conscious and lucid throughout the experience instead of passing out.

As soon as the machine was activated, an electric current began to flow through the suit, stimulating each one of Regalia's nerve endings. The Primarch hissed, her breath bated and labored as her body came alive in exquisite pain. It was as if every inch of her body had been dipped in promethium and set ablaze. Her muscles spasmed, her teeth and fist clenched as sweat ran down her face, her mind clear of all distractions save the overwhelming pain brought on by the machine.

The Pain glove hummed with power, pumping crackling jolts of electricity directly into Regalia's skin, her every nerve screaming from the unrelenting sensation. Yet, she did not flinch, she did not sob, she did not beg. Even in this, even under the affects of a machine that the Dark Eldar themselves would consider little more than a relaxation device, Regalia Dorn did not falter. The device made it seem as though a hundred-thousand white-hot needles were digging into her very bones. The pain was so overwhelming that Regalia could not even move, her joints locked and her muscles spasmed, unable to respond to any command her mind might give them. She was just barely able to muster up the energy to draw breath, yet the vice-grip the glove had on her chest made each breath short and painful.

Despite this, the Pain Glove served its purpose. With each stinging breath and with each new searing onslaught across her nerves, Regalia found her mind becoming clearer. The burdensome thoughts that accompanied the ruination of what had been her life's work were alleviated by the gruesome work of the Pain Glove.

Minutes slipped slowly by as Regalia sat wrapped in the excruciating embrace of the device. A mortal human would have long gone mad or expired from such arduous torture, and even an Astartes warrior might be straining themselves to keep their sanity intact at this point. Perhaps even a few of her sisters might not have lasted this long under the machine's 'care'. Even among the Primarchs, Regalia's endurance was a thing of legend, rivalled only by dread Morticia's forbearance, something long tempered by the hostile atmosphere of Barbarus, just as Regalia had been tempered by the frigid air and flaying ice winds of Inwit. Her meditation brought a strange peace to Regalia and even as her body was under a constant assault of pain, her mind steadily began to relax, free from all thoughts save pain. She fell into an almost trance-like state, her eyes closing as if in slumber as she let all worries wash away, save the pain and the peace it brought.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

Regalia's eyes snapped open as the sound of someone knocking on the glass of the chamber echoed throughout the cylinder. Through the glass window, she could just barley make out a humanoid shape standing in front of the Pain Glove, though she couldn't make out any further details as her vision was blurred from the pain. Before Regalia could even react, the figure reared its fist back-

SMASH!

And sent it smashing through the glass of the cylinder. Shards of glass spilled across the floor of the Phalanx as a clawed purple hand seized Regalia by the cumbersome collar and threw her bodily across the room. Dorn nearly collided with the massive desk that served as both her command station and drawing board, just barely managing to catch herself. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, still recovering from her prolonged period in the Pain Glove. Regalia realized with some alarm that she likely wouldn't be in any state to defend herself any time soon.

Behind her, she heard the intruder speak in a rich, seductive purr of a voice. "You know out of all your sisters," the intruder began conversationally. "I never would have pegged you as the masochist." Regalia turned with a quiet groan to face the intruder with a glare. Baren smirked back with an easygoing smile. "To be honest, my money had been on Curze."

Regalia said nothing. This was hardly unusual; words were far from the Praetorian's strong suit. They were tools for the likes of Guilliman or Sanguinia. Regalia spoke through her works or her sword. Seeing as neither were available to her at the moment, the Praetorian had no choice but to make do with her fists. Unfortunately for her, she was in no position to do so easily. Regalia swung her fist with all the strength she could muster, an attack that normally would be able to crack ceramite and plasteel. Right now, however, with her limbs feeling as though they were weighed down with iron, she was too slow to even come close to hitting the Daemon Prince.

Baren easily sidestepped her clumsy attack, letting out a condescending chuckle as Regalia stumbled past him. "You didn't really think that would work, did you?" he asked, all the while his eyes happily devoured the sight of Regalia's powerful and busty body wrapped tight in the body-glove. Moving with the reflexes that had made him a fierce combatant in his mortal youth and that had been honed by his divinity, Baren's arm shot out and snagged Regalia by the bicep, fingers holding her firmly but not too aggressively. Not like an attacker, more like someone trying to steady a wobbly friend of theirs.

"Eh?!" Regalia's eyes widened and she almost reached her chain-sword by instinct, only to stop once she remembered that she was not currently wearing it on her hip. "How dare you? Let me go you-" Regalia's voice was cutoff as Baren forcibly threw her forward. Regalia stumbled forward blindly, once again just barely managing to catch herself as her hands flattened against cool glass. Before she could right herself, Baren was upon her again. The Daemon pinned Regalia between him and the glass, one powerful hand pressing against her back, the other wrapped around her waist. "What is the meaning of this?!" Baren was just sort of staring at her, apparently waiting for her anger to wind down. And that, being seemingly ignored by someone so clearly her inferior, only made her even more upset. "Unhand me!" Regalia shouted out, in confusion and growing anger, only for Baren to interrupt her.

"Hush," The Daemon ordered, squeezing her hip tightly, sending sparks of pain up her nerves… and Regalia found herself obeying, red creeping up her face as her voice failed her. Baren smirked approving before directing Regalia's attention to the window. "Look down and see Terra below." Regalia did so and found herself staring at a planet shrouded in smog and grime, the only visible light was from the Imperial Palace itself, shining like a glowing gold scar across the mountain range.

"Not there," Baren chided, giving her hip another squeeze. "A little to the left." Regalia followed Baren's instructions and her eyes fell a small landmass far to the west of her mother's palace. Before the oceans had dried up, it may have been a peninsula, but now, it was only another barren mass of earth buried under a sprawling hive-city.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Regalia growled, still waiting for the numbness in her limbs to fade so she might fight back.

"Hellas, or what was Hellas," Baren said, his tone almost somber. The sight of his former home as it was now, left to rot under smog and squalor, offended him more than any insult. "There was time, before Imperiums, and Warp-drives, and Men of Iron, where that little peninsula was the height of civilization and culture. A place of beauty and art, of knowledge and politics, a land of city-states who vied for the attention of gods."

"There are no gods," Regalia recited her mother's words by instinct, even as her thick thighs rubbed together

Baren chuckled, "Not in those mountains, no." Baren sighed wistfully. "Its beauty should have been preserved forever." Regalia was silent, whatever Hellas had been, it had clearly meant something to the Daemon Prince. "I feel like you could relate," he continued. "You're mother's palace, that's your work, isn't it?" Regalia tried to stay defiantly silence, but Baren would have none of it.

Regalia gasped out, that stoic voice suddenly full of shock and outrage as Baren lunged forward, wrapping his hand around the bent over Primarch and grabbing a great fistful of her colossal tits, squeezing her breasts roughly as the Praetorian let out a shocked cry, as equal parts pleasure and pain ran up her spine from how roughly he was mauling her breasts

"See, we do have some things in common, Regalia," Baren teased, as he crudely groped and squeezed the Primarch's massive rack, feeling her struggling weakly against him. "An appreciation for beautiful things… and for the rough stuff as well." Baren wasn't lying about that, even thousands of miles above Terra, the light from Apokálypsi's astronomicon burned his warp-touched flesh, a delicious searing pain that the Daemon relished in.

Schriiipp!

"Ohhhhhh! Oh, you utterly vile filth!" Regalia whined, only to be rewarded by Baren cruelly seizing one of her nipples and twisting, causing the poor Primarch to let out a girlish squeal as another bolt of pain and pleasure coursed through her body.

The Daemon Prince smirked cruelly down at the Primarch as his powerful hands toyed with her massive bust. "Seems to me that you're enjoying this more than you want to admit," the Daemon said, dragging a finger against the thin material that covered the Primarch's soaking wet cunt. She shook her head weakly at this, legs straight as poles behind her, feet shaking angrily in her boots, like a pouting girl about to throw a tantrum. He sounded terribly amused with himself, and Regalia wished like hell she had her sword at that moment.

Even though he'd probably just take it from me and... whip my big fat ass sore and raw with the flat of it, or something, she thought. Perverted brute!

Held at a rough 90-degree angle, she felt another hand grabbing the back of her bodysuit, yanking it away. Given her sheer mountains of beauty, there was quite a bit of resistance from her rear end and finally the bodysuit was torn nearly in two with another heavy schi-riiip! The tattered remnants hung around her waist as her fat ass was almost fully exposed.

Smack!

The heavy slap stung Regalia's backside, and was sure to leave a clear red mark. Her spine stiffened; heavy breasts pushed against the cool glass of the window as her hot breath fogged it up. "Your ass is amazing." Baren said simply, and Regalia made no response to this, she supposed he was only stating a fact after all.

"I'll...tear...your head off...for this...you..." Regalia began to weakly pant out only to be cut off, words replaced by a shocked squeak as she suddenly felt something press against her backside. Regalia's eyes narrowed for a moment in rage and then shot wide open as she realized where exactly this bastard intended to stick his big fat prick.

Regalia got just as far as opening her mouth to say something when her entire body froze, stiff and shocked as she felt him suddenly surge forward. Her asshole, tiny, as virgin as the rest of her (well before she'd met him, anyway) and completely untouched, was now being torn open by this daemon's nasty big fat cock.

"You know, I was going to let you suck my cock to get it wet for your tiny little asshole, Regalia, but I figured that I'd be nice and not spare you the pain." Baren was openly mocking her, adding insult to the incredibly painful and yet overwhelming full body sensation of his cock spearing deep into her asshole.

"Noooooo!" Regalia yelled, as her entire body was pushed and rocked forward by his forceful, rough thrusts. Her ruined bodysuit threatened to fall apart completely at any moment, and her legs shook and trembled, knees shaking weakly.

"You-oh fuck, that's deeep!-you fucking scum!" she yelled up at him, thrashing a bit but not really trying to dislodge his hard cock at all. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. His cock was already so far in her ass that her body seemed to have no choice but to welcome the invading cock, and fat ass cheeks hugged his dick sinfully as his fat prick sank deeper and deeper inside of her.

Wham!

As before, he was showing her absolutely no mercy, forcing her to get used to this brutal act of ass-fucking the hard way. Her ass rippled and jiggled behind her, and Regalia bit one of her fingers, partially to keep from screaming again and partially to hide her shame at how her lewd body shook and danced with a man's fat cock stirring up her insides.

She babbled around her digit anyway, the sensations ripping through her body were too intense for to stay quiet. Baren actually let go of her head so he could better grip her slender waist, using all his height and weight to slam into her fantastic, pale, wobbling booty.

Regalia Dorn was having her asshole ripped open in her own Phalanx, fucked like a drunken hive-city whore by some chaos-corrupted, daemonic piece of scum. Her mind reeled at the sensations, letting out little whimpers and moans around her finger that drove Baren absolutely wild and only spurred him on to fuck her that much harder and faster to wring more depraved and delicious sounds from her throat.

Wham!Wham!Wham!

"Fuck, your asshole is amazing, Regalia. So fucking hot and tight, it feels like you're trying to milk my cock! Your squeezing me so hard its like you don't ever want to let my dick go!"

Regalia had been praised many times in her life, though never enough by her cold mother, and on many different things. She had once been an empress herself before her empire had been annexed by the Imperium, and had excelled at both building fortifications and breaking down those built by others. Her legion had one of the best records in the Imperium, not only brining worlds to compliance in record time, but rebuilding them to be even grander than they had been found.

None of those grand accomplishments mattered to Baren, however. He was a bastard who didn't care about any of those other things and currently seemed to find her squeezing, grasping, greedy little asshole to be the most wonderful thing about her. How degrading!

This bastard is fucking me so deep it feels like he's trying to split me in two! U-unthinkable! How could such a big fat cock fit inside my tiny, perfect asshole.

She didn't know what was worse, the teeth-rattling assfuck, the way Baren praised her as nothing more than a hot piece of ass for him to fuck, or the fact that her mind and body seemed to soak up his praise. Her nipples so stiff they almost tore right through their bodysuit, which came more and more undone with every thrust, and her wet little tongue kept poking out past her finger to lick her lips lewdly.

It was all Regalia could do to stay sane, trying to focus her mind on something other than that cock. But with every thrust that became harder and harder, as it seemed Baren was not only fucking her asshole loose and open, but also pounding her very brain cells, hard, until she'd be a dumb brute who only cared about sex...like him.

Regalia tried to stay silent and ignore his taunts, but she opened her mouth anyway-using her first name like that was almost more of an affront to her than anything else he'd done so far.

She tried to issue a denial to this (increasingly obviously true) statement, but instead let out a high-pitched, throaty noise.

"Ah-eeee!" Her body almost squealed like a pig or some other low animal as he continued to absolutely rip into her, ravaging her ass over and over again. Her legs already felt numb, and her fat ass continued to shake and sting from the constant slams of his strong pelvis and ab muscles into her cushy, pillowy butt.

Her strength, both physical and mental, was failing her, and Regalia could only stare ahead. Unable to meet the gaze of this brute who was turning her asshole into his personal plaything, her eyes instead landed on the signs of her achievements hanging from her walls and in throughout her chamber. Her eyes flitted from various scale models of her past constructs, her adoptive grandfather's cloak -(oh what would he think to see me getting fucked like a cheap whore! Oh Terraa!)- and the glass of the window was reflective enough for Regalia to see a reflection of herself.

From the polished, near-indestructible glass Regalia could see the entire sordid scene - Baren's large looming body behind her (she realized he was entirely naked and despite herself she was impressed by his muscled arms and broad, almost hairless chest and stomach), her face wearing an expression she didn't recognize, equal parts pleased and shocked, and above all, her big fat ass rippling behind her, hips seeming to swell up out of her waist and taper into an enormous, heart-shaped ass that was perfect for him to grab and slap and fuck. She'd never seen herself so defeated or in such a physical position, and it only made Regalia understand better just how big her ass truly was.

Baren grunted behind her again and sank his cock deep into her ass. His fat balls crashed into her ass, which had long since come to accept and almost relish in the sensation of getting slapped by the by his powerful hips. Holding himself still, Baren ground his cock into her.

"EEEEE!" Regalia's head shook and her ass wobbled as her pussy clenched and then squirted, her legs shaking and her eyes almost going blank for a second, mind completely lost. Being fucked in her own ship like a slut had driven her to an exhausting two-hole orgasm that threatened to steal the very breath from her lungs.

She arched up, still yelling...and Baren slammed her head back down against the glass.

"Just...ahh fuck! Just lay there and enjoy your first anal creampie, Regalia." His words sounded like a death sentence to her ears, while the sounds of his balls emptying themselves into her ass filled the room.

Spllrt! Splllrt! Splllrch!

Her asshole was being filled by nasty daemon cum, and that thought drove Regalia mad, prolonging her twitching, arm flopping orgasm. Her thighs were soaked with her juices and the remains of her bodysuit had come undone; breasts almost completely exposed. The tatters of the body-glove drifted on the floor as her stirps of fabric nearly fell loose, vast swathes of creamy titflesh on display, and even that was only the merest glimpses of her buxom beauty.

After what felt like at least five minutes (keeping perfect time in her head was also one of Regalia's talents, though she was less sure now, with her body and mind completely fucked) of nonstop jizz, Baren began to pull out.

Regalia's asshole was completely destroyed, gaping and pouring come out like a busted fire hyrdant. There seemed to be end to the mess that ran down her fat ass cheeks and legs, getting trapped in her torn bodysuit. They clung to her damply and Regalia simply lay against the glass, legs limp and being held up by Baren as she could feel his cum soaking into her skin.

Baren reached out with one hand, cupping her fat ass cheek and marveling at the fact that even one was far too large for his grip. He was holding her in an almost respectful way, reverent of her ass in contrast to his prior brutality as he openly admired her sexy, made for fucking body.

"Well, don't worry about your future career as a architect, you greedy little anal whore."

She whimpered a bit at the insult, but mostly because it felt very true.

"No matter what else happens, you'll always have a job as another one of my harem girls. You'd certainly fit in with your sisters."

He might have said more, but Regalia wasn't sure. Hearing his receding footsteps, the last sight she saw was her own blissed-out face in the reflection of the glass as she passed out in a puddle of her own drool, with jizz absolutely stuffing her asshole full and crusting along every inch of her lithe, slender legs.

Never seeing as Baren stopped at her work desk before he left, and took a small, seemingly innocuous data disk from the surface before disappearing into a Warp-portal.