A Tale of Bugs and Unrequited Love

Walter the lictor looked passionately into the space marine's terrified eyes. He wanted to love this man, but he knew it could never work. Walter flared his many tendrils surrounding his elongated mouth in cooing sound. The marine screamed, unsure of what was about to happen. Delicately Walter carried the man so as not to break him. He had a new toy for this evening  

"Walter watched from the shadows as a group of space marines drew closer. bigsby had stolen his last group of man toys, but these were going to be strictly his. walter often wondered why he and his brothers were so attracted sexually to humans, but it was a fire that could not be quenched. Plus, he enjoyed the numerous holes humans had as to which he could place his sexual organs. he watched with excitement as the group of marines grouped together to take a break, thinking they were safe. some of the marines stripped off the top layer of their armor, exposing their sweaty glistening skin. walter almost squeeled in pleasure. his mind was made up. these men would be his to enjoy. he flipped his pink scarf over his shoulder and melded back into the shadows."

"Deep behind enemy lines, Samson looked on with longing as the slender Eldar fought and bled with the burly, manly Space Marines. The graceful ways they moved filled his proto-loins with lustful delight. Deep in his alien brain Samson entertained a myriad of various orgies with these armies of pleasure. He knew this was unbecoming for a Lictor of his stature, but he could not fight the passions of his heart! It was not to be...for their battle was over, the Eldar fading out of view and the bedraggled Space Marines cheering and taunting. There would be no group love for Samson this day. Ah well...at least there was still all the dead bodies...."

Bigsby blended in perfectly with the piles of industrial waste littering the grounds. The Chaos horde passing by took no notice of the beast. With disappointment Bigsby inspected these warriors. Though strong and burly, these Chaos Marines, they were covered with far more spikes than Bigsby liked in a lover, and the blood leaking from the seams in their armor spoke of some unpleasant disease. That was last thing Bigsby needed, some foreign spore growing on his beastness! 
He was ready to turn away when HE cleared a pile of scrap....Bigsby was transfixed with passion by the beauty before him. He stood at least fifteen feet tall, as tall as a swollen Carnifex (poor lovers, those Carnies, never thinking of the needs of an affectionate Lictor!). A great long shaft of a battlecannon emerged from its torso, mighty grasping claws, and four long, long legs. Its brazen head gleamed in what was left of the dimming light. 
It was a Defiler....and Bigsby HAD to have him!

Continuing with his recon, Walter made his way across ruined buildings and tumultuous landscape with such ease it seemed as if he were flying. Grappling the side of a ruined transport ship from long ago, he hoisted himself to the very edge of skeletal wing, the exo-plates long since deteriorated or stripped away. A slightly warm breeze in the midnight sky sent his pink scarf flapping about his neck. Although it was late night, a red glow lined the horizon, tinting everything in sight with the color of blood. He disliked this new organism that dared to make demands of their hive mind, yet he was unable to disobey it. It was secretive, mysterious, and as far as he knew, a shadow. When consulting with Bigsby and Samson, they felt the same way, none of them having seen this commanding creature. Bigsby didn't seem to care as much as he and Samson did, but then again, Bigsby loved being ordered around and subjugated. 
In the distance small, dark figures moved against the landscape. Walter's many eyes sparkled with excitement as he climbed down and became one with the terrain. Without a sound he closed the gap, leaving behind the rest of the tyranid recon patrol. Most of them were mindless, drooling slaves anyways. The warrior brood with them acted as the only semblance of intelligence among the lot and Walter despised them all. When faced with such juicy enemies, as this planet and especially this city were ripe with, all they did was devour and maim. They had no idea of the higher pleasures that existed with these men and beasts. 
Cautiously he made his way to the advancing enemy. He couldn’t make out any details, but he could feel the enemy approaching: chaos marines. They had an aura that prefaced them, spilling over the land like a shadow darker than the night. Walter’s hyper senses easily picked up on their scent of blood, their twisted and deformed skin unable to entirely encase their demon bodies. As he made his way to a new vantage point, he noticed that these chaos marines appeared to be a small recon squad as well. A plague icon staff was held high by a marching warrior. The lictor recognized a chaos sorcerer simultaneously by sight and by the psychic energy he possessed. A chaos rhino tank followed slowly at a distance, far enough away not to betray the small group of men, but close enough for support. Walter knew that the sorcerer would have sensed the rest of the recon group by now, but with luck he was yet undetected. Slinking back into the shadows, a hunger grew inside him. His instinctive ability to hide and feast was taking over his thoughts. He needed to eat, but he also had to satisfy his unusual lust. With skill he made his way dodging in and out of ancient debris to the rear of the chaos rhino.
He could hear the sounds of battle beginning, bolter fire tearing through the silence. He heard the dying screams of the genestealer unit. Leaping from his cover, Walter charged the rhino, which had turned and was now facing him. With a speed driven by unnatural chemicals flowing through his blood, he raced toward the assault machine. It sat idle, the contents spilling out the rear to engage the rest of his recon brothers. Tears began to form in Walter’s many eyes as he feared he may end up denied of his violent raping fantasy. With a mournful cry, he sobbed and lightly pounded his fists into the side of the tank. Unable to face this sordid reality, Walter fled. He ran. Landscape was a blur, but he continued to run. Trails of tears followed behind. No one understood him. No one could feel the powerful lust he felt. Everyone reminded him of how wrong it was and that he must reel in his emotions, but it just wasn’t possible. This wasn’t something he could control! Stopping to catch his breath, Walter looked over his shoulder.

Then another sound cut through the night, the screams of dying warriors. They had encountered the warrior brood and the gaunts. Chaos marines were starting to die. Suddenly rage filled his body. Every talon, claw and chitanous plate trembled with rage! They were supposed to be his! For his pleasure and for his amusement! Instead his family chose to deny him and take his only pleasure and destroy it. They were insulting him, taunting him. Images of tyranid warriors, genestealers and even gaunts floated through his mind, their mandibles twitching in laughter. With a guttural yell, bellowing with every ounce of his being, Walter stormed back to the rhino. Nothing was going to deny him his pleasure! Lifting his giant scything claws high, he ripped through the front of the rhino. Sparks and a puff of smoke indicated the total destruction of all control. He leaped to the top of the machine even as parts of it started to explode. Roaring with an out of control fury, Walter could see most of the chaos marines dead in the midst of a pile of dead gaunts. The warrior brood fought on, engaging the contents of the tank. Five plague marines fought, charging the warriors. Jim, leader of the three brood warriors, delivered the death blow to the sorcerer. Allen, Jim’s most reliable warrior felled another plague marine. Jeff tumbled backwards, several gaping holes in what used to be his chest. 

Walter charged. He wasn’t sure if he was going to kill Jim and Allen, but that mattered little. His unstoppable anger was calmly turning into a precarious joy as he realized the plague marines were so busily engaged in melee that they were completely unaware of him. Perhaps he could fulfill his lust! Hovering from behind, he heard one of the marines comment about a pink scarf appearing on the shoulder of his friend. Walter smirked. They still could not see him, covered in mud and blending beautifully with his surroundings. With a rending claw, he made himself an opening in the back of a plague marine’s armor. Cautiously, Walter began to invade the chaos marine’s most sensual areas. With a yelp of surprise, the marine tried to turn to see what was violating him. Walter grasped him tightly with his rending claws, his scything claws hovering out in front. Ecstasy flooded through Walter as he felt the marine squirm and struggle with all his might. He loved it when they tried to get away after they realized what was happening to them.

“Demons of darkness, it’s raping me!” Ask anyone in the universe and they’d tell you that Chaos does not fear anything, but Walter and his two brothers could tell you otherwise. Chaos or not, there was nothing but fear and panic in the eyes of their lovers. This particular man had his eyes darting back and forth, sobbing and wimpering like a newborn pup. Walter was in control now. He loved the power he exhibited, the sheer thrill of stealing every ounce of being from the ones they loved and the ability to reduce anything they touched to putty. Walter’s eyes rolled in his head, pleasure flooding him. Grinning in pleasure, the tendrils of his mouth purred in contentment. He saw Allen go down, the combined melee finally inflicting mortal damage. Thrusting with such force, Walter heard the man’s back snap in half and Walter’s manliness erupt from the chest of the marine as he pulled back too hard on the now dead body. This is how most of his love making sessions ended, often leaving him unsatisfied. Jim felled another and a surviving hormagaunt ripped into one of two plague marines left. Tossing his unwilling lover aside, Walter turned to face the surviving man. Walter approached, stir purring. His throbbing sexual organs blatently displayed in all it’s glory. Babbling incoherently, the man placed his bolter under his chin and fired, cleanly removing his head before Walter reached him. Slowly Walter lowered his scything claws, probing the bodies that accumulated from the melee. Finding one that would soon be dead, but yet breathed, he stabbed his scything claw into it’s leg and dragged the unconscious man into the darkness with him.