Canoness Birgitte looked around, panting heavily, leaning heavily on her chainsword that had long-ceased functioning from the chitin building up along it's length. Her and her detachment from the Abbey of the Whispered Fury had been fighting alongside the PDF for the better part of the day against an increasingly ferocious, bestial horde. Many of her order had fallen, a distressing amount without being recovered. Too often, it seemed, those who fought would be struck but some bizarre ailment, either dropping them where they stood, or afflicting them with a bizarre delerium that left them with blank eyes and slack mouths.

Birgitte looked around for her retinue. Her hand-picked Celestians had covered her numerous charges, sometimes at the cost of one of their number. None had been recovered, buried beneath the chitinous masses. Birgitte herself had sustained slight damage to her armor, shedding both her pauldrons and taking some tears to the softer ceramite-brigandine that covered her torso, leaving her bodyglove revealed underneath.

As she surveyed the battlefield, Birgitte noted with unease that there was a lull in the fighting. The mixed-gender PDF had been trading shots all day with the Tyranids, with volume increasing and decreasing in equal amounts. Now, however, there was an eerie calm, enhanced by the mists that rolled over everything, covering the ground up to the tops of Birgitte's ceramite-covered thighs.
The calm was suddenly broken by a screech, mixed with a sharp report of armor plates changing positions rapidly. As Birgitte stood up (a small part of her mind noting that her fatigue must be getting worse, as her reflexes appeared to be noticeably slower than usual,) she turned towards the sound, in time to bring her chainsword up to guard her chest and face. A pair of powerful arms reached for her armored limbs, attempting to pinch them against a set of massive claws.

'Lictor,' noted her mind absently, the part that wasn't focusing on the immediacy of defending herself against it's surprise assault beginning to drift. This would have been distressing to Birgitte, had she not been working to keep her arms free. Interestingly enough, the lictor appeared to be attempting to incapacitate her, rather than slice her in half.

With a hearty FOR THE EMPEROR, which shook her mind back to consciousness, she forced herself away from the foul insect, it's tendrilled visage dripping some kind of fluid. The massive beast growled and gurgled, walking sideways and rocking back and forth on its haunches. The movement was accompanied by another motion, at the base of it's thorax. Birgitte allowed herself a moment to look at the potential new threat, and almost dropped her chainsword in shock.
Nestled between the lictor's massive insectoid legs was a proportionally large mass of stringy tissue, engorged with fluid. It wasn't completely turbid, but was full enough that it's momentum was ponderous. Birgitte paused for a moment, mesmerized, before she shook her head.

Moments later, she shook it again. Her mind was beginning to feel fuzzy, and she was beginning to consider the weight of her chainsword - wondering if it might not be best to set it down for a moment. Growling, she raised it again in a defensive pattern.

Then she caught herself having a thought which almost dropped her to her knees with its grotesqueness, picturing that massive slab of tissue pushing itself between her thighs, rubbing against her Sanctum Imperialis, pressing itself against the folds that she could even now feel becoming welcomely moist...
Horrified, she screamed, and charged at the offending member.
With almost contemptuous ease, Birgitte found herself knocked aside by the side-stepping lictor. As she fell, she noticed that where it passed, there was an almost-invisible cloud of particles in the air. Too late, she remembered that lictors secreted pheromones, normally designed to attract other members of the hive fleet... apparently, these were having some kind of effect on her performance.

Birgitte fell to her hands and knees, immediately attempting to push herself up and get back into the fight, before all strength left her limbs. Her final attempt was too little, too late, however, as she felt a massive weight press against her, preventing her from lifting up, despite the strength given by her blessed armor.

Armor which began to be peeled away with a savagery that shocked her pheromone-addled mind, panels screeching as they parted to the violating claws. This close to the beast, Birgitte's token resistance faded away, replaced by... anticipation? Birgitte shivered slightly, wondering was was about to happen to her, even as a sliver of fear entered her mind. If the creature intended to kill her, why would it open up her armor like a ration can?
Her mind drifted again to the grotesque phallus that dangled between the lictor's legs. That same drifting part of her mind did some calculations, and noted that it would be resting right-

With a final screech and a ripping sound, her groinplate parted ways from her brigandine, which itself was slit up the back when her backpack was ripped off, leaving her clad in her vambraces and boots alone. Her protective bodyglove underneath was shredding, and her bare skin goose-pimpled in the mists that still clung to the battlefield.

Birgitte looked up, the mists clinging to her exposed body, combining with the pheromones to make her flesh sensitive to the slightest touch. She blearily struggled to focus her eyes, noting that shadows were growing nearby, and she was beginning to hear more sounds than those emitted by the grunting lictor.
As the shapes grew, she noticed that they began to form into more tyranids, mostly warriors. And that they were carrying other women, including her entire retinue of Celestians. All wore the same blank look that she could feel stealing over her face, all were loose-limbed. And all had been peeled out of their armor. The other women included both sisters from her order and what appeared to be PDF soldiers.

The beasts began to place their prisoners on the ground, with no rhyme or reason to their placement. Many were placed with their exposed posteriors in the air. A few were clutched to tyranid bodies, approximating a child sitting in an adult's lap.

All of these Tyranids were similarly equipped to the Lictor that was beginning to press against Birgitte's nether regions. All had stringy, knobbly, gnarled or thorny phalluses, beginning to swell. None of them were smaller than her forearm.

The tiny part of Birgitte's mind that was still cognizant began to scream in terror. All that emerged from her lips was a drawn-out moan.
The lictor emitted a growl, sending a frisson down Birgitte's spine. The warriors responded in kind, and with a bizarre symmetry, began to seize their prisoners with their primary arms, and thrust their stalky protuberences into their waiting moist folds.

The women began to keen, small sounds of mindless joy reverberating in time with the bestial growls. Birgitte was far enough gone to lick her lips and push back with her hips against the warm slab of meat waiting behind her, her Palace Gates placing a sultry kiss on the bug's hardened bone.

All she received for her attempt, however, was a clawed pinch to her bottom, which was quivering with anticipation, and a shove to her upper back, placing her face firmly, but not roughly against the ground.

It appeared that Birgitte had something special in store for her. She licked her lips again, whimpering as she watched her sisters-in-arms being bounced roughly back and forth by the beasts, their cries of ecstasy coming again and again as poles of flesh forced their pussies cruelly open.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of watching, several of the warriors began to screech again, their hips spasming. The captive women screamed as they were filled past overflowing with warm, sticky seed. When the pressure would build up, the warriors would withdraw, soaking their captives from head to toe. Wherever splatters would fall, the women would shake, shiver, and react towards, attempting to cover their bodies mindlessly, driven by some primal urge to be soaked in alien come.

Birgitte whimpered again, the pheromones heightening a desire she could not begin to contain. She rocked her hips back and forth, desperately seeking the alien phallus dangling just barely out of her reach. Her loins ached to be filled, her skin tingled excruciatingly in need of spunk to cover it. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to contain herself just from the visuals.

As if reacting to her need, the lictor began to move, but not how she wanted. Keeping her pinned down by placing her massive clawed arms against her shoulder blades, it moved to in front of her, then made a curious move, almost a bow to something that lay out of Birgitte's eyesight. Her lips moved up their own accord, her head twisting towards the fat, stringy meat dangling in front of it. As her lips finally, FINALLY made contact with the alien flesh, she felt another, much harder presence press against her Basilicum.

And another, much larger set of hands grasped her hips firmly, and began to drag her backwards.
Shocked, Birgitte turned her head, dragging her lips along the lictor's veiny shaft, causing the Tyranid to grunt and twitch. What she saw made the last rational part of her mind begin to gibber and twitch.

Crouched behind her was a massive Hive Tyrant, it's own phallus covered in knobbed armor, and about the size of one of her legs, with her buttocks attached.

The part of her mind that had become subsumed to the inhuman orgy that continued around her began to chuckle in delicious anticipation. That lovely monstrosity was pressing against her soaking wet hole, and beginning to press inwards! Oh, God-Emperor, if she didn't come just from it being inserted, she didn't know if she could remain conscious!

As the Hive Tyrant bellowed, the warriors around Birgitte screeched in response, and began redoubling their plundering of their captives. The human woman screamed and shouted, their violations and rough treatment not seeming to phase them.
Also in response, the lictor seized Birgitte's head with its hands, working the jaw down, and forcing it's ropey cockhead between her lips.

As Birgitte's oral receptacle was opened, so to was her most holy of Holies. Never before had she felt pressure like this - but then, never before had she been as dripping wet as she was at this moment. Furthermore, the Hive Tyrant seemed to be oozing some form of ichor, which served to lubricate her further, whilst taking most of the pain that the massive stretching incurred and dulling it. It also seemed to be loosening her muscles, which began to accept the monstrous protrusion joyously. Birgitte sighed, shook, then screamed as the bony head popped into her, her mind wiped blank by an orgasm of equally monstrous proportions.
As her mind slowly recovered from it's initial, earth-shattering come, Birgitte was ironically much more aware of herself. Enough so that she was able to begin working her tongue around the alien cock that was beginning to work itself in and out of her mouth. Her hands reached up to wrap themselves around the length that she couldn't take, rolling the flesh back and forth beneath her hands almost tenderly.

Her pelvis, however, ached with the intense pressure being forced into her. The paws that gripped her hips were somehow moving them in a manner that worked to accept the Tyrant's massive bone. She could feel each individual ridge of the bone that covered the head as it worked into her, her muscle squeezing and moulding itself around the shaft. Behind the armored tip was a series of knobs and bulges that pulsated, causing Birgitte to shiver and groan. This causes the lictor to keen and grip her hair, forcing his shaft down her throat.

Tears came to her eyes, which widened as she gagged. Then an overpowering wave of pheromones washed over her, and she felt her throat muscles relax, and allow her to take more of the shaft down. It wasn't long before her lips were pressed against the cartilage at the base of the lictor's cock. The beast gave a triumphant call, then began to work itself faster, in and out of her mouth.

The Tyrant set its feet firmly against the ground, and lifted her bottom into the air, using the lictor's thrusts as leverage to work more of itself deep into her pit. Finally, she could feel the insistent pressure of the armor-plated tip against her cervix.
Birgitte's eyes shot open to their widest yet, as she felt the Tyrant's cock twitch, and with a sharp pain, she felt her cervix being forced wide by the armored head, which split slightly, allowing a narrowing, knurled tip to penetrate into her womb.

She screamed, muffled by the flesh into her throat. The lictor responded by twitching, shooting a gooey, viscous mass into her gullet. The effect was dramatic: her eyes rolled back into her head as the fluid, which tingled all the way to her stomach, spread a warmth throughout her whole. She felt a minor shudder emanate from her nether regions, the smallest orgasm yet, but brought on by nothing more than swallowing what the lictor gave her.

This orgasm in turn loosened up what tension had been brought on by the pain of her womb being penetrated, which allowed more of the Hive Tyrant into her. As the lictor withdrew from her mouth, the Tyrant lifted her up and began forcing her up and down on its shaft vigorously. Birgitte knew she couldn't stand against this treatment for long: either her body would break, or her mind would, from the bolts of lightning shooting from her Sanctum Sanctorum, up her spine to her brain.
With a bellow that reverberated throughout her entire body, the Hive Tyrant locked its body. Throughout the site of the orgy, the warriors all responded to it with cries of their own. Their captives shrieked with pleasure as they were filled again, and liberally coated with alien seed. The lictor shrieked, its phallus hardening instantly as it seized Birgittes head and crammed it onto its shaft, which twitched, danced, then filled her mouth and covered her face in one fell swoop.

Birgitte felt none of this, as she was too busy shrieking in pure bliss, her mind caressed by the psychic shock of the Hive Tyrant climaxing. Its shaft, buried deep in her, pulsed and shook, and she was dimly aware of the intense heat of its seed filling every empty space in her reproductive tract. The meat filling her slowly withdrew, to be replaced by more spunk. Her bottom was scraped by the Tyrant's claws, the weals produced then soaked in the off-blue spunk of the Hive Tyrant's regal seed.

Finally spent, the Hive Tyrant growled, screeched once, then turned and tramped away, followed by the warriors and the lictor, which emitted one last cloud of pheromones. Birgitte's last image before she lost consciousness was of the lictor's cock, swaying back and forth as it stalked off.
Epilogue:

Birgitte came too, feeling beyond sore in ways that she had never experienced before. All around her were her Celestians and the surviving female PDF troops, looking as though they were in a similar frame of mind, and clutching at themselves. Her mind was a blur, the experiences she had undergone before she passed out beyond her ability to retrieve. All she was aware of was a lack of energy, and a bizarre craving for sweet foods, high in calories.

And an odd cramping in her slightly swollen stomach...