more smuttery

Melira held her chin up high as she was escorted to Urabrask's private chambers by two...well they were mirrans. Once. She could barely look at them without contorting her face in fear and fright. Twisted abominations of metal and flayed flesh, cruel jokes of what they were when they were born from their mother's wombs.

 

She would do anything to aid her people's survival, even if it meant meeting with a praetor. She tried to push the dark thoughts of what would happen to her. Not many mirrans had ever even seen the praetors before, and she knew of none that had lived. She tried to fill her head with the happy thoughts of the Mirrodin she once knew, knowing that whatever happened today, even if she died, she would be fighting for that vision, the goal of a reclaimed Mirrodin. When this war started it did not seem so difficult, but now... Happy thoughts Melira.

 

The room was more like a cavern, red spires and curved pillars that neatly elapsed towards the ceiling, with darksteel and wrought iron mounds that filled the room in various unnatural shapes.

 

"You may go."

 

A deep voice rumbled and Melira suddenly turned to see what could only be Urabrask. The great Praetor has moved incredibly silently for something so large. An incredible warmth seemed to emanate from his red steel body, something hotter than the already scorching temperatures of the Furnace itself. Melira shivered in fear, she could sense his power just by being this close to him. How would the mirrans have a chance against foes such as this? She held back tears as the two phyrexian priests left the room, the wrought darksteel door closing with a dull and heavy thud.  This was it. She was going to die.

Urabrask was silent as he stared into her eyes, his dull and glasslike face incapable and unwilling to betray emotion.

 

"Sit down please."

 

Melira flinched as he spoke again. Merely his manner of speaking sent shivers of fear down her spine, his slow rumbling voice sounding unnatural, it may have been soothing had those words come from a human man.  She took a seat on what passed for a chair in the Furnace, a large stump of cold iron and steel. They were both silent for another long while before she had the courage to speak up.

 

"Sir Urabrask...sir.." Melira tried to hide her obvious fear. She had to be strong for the mirrans. "You summoned me here...." She paused, waiting for him to fill in the gap, to give her some reason why she was sitting here before him, captive in a room of the Furnace never before seen by mirran eyes.

 

"Yes"

 

He wasn't helping her out. "I was um...wondering why you wanted to see me....sir!" She did not know what to address him by, but she certainly did not want to offend him. Another long pause from the great red praetor made her worried she had done something wrong, but eventually he spoke.

 

"I wish to know why I should keep your kind alive."

 

Melira's face drained of color. So he did know. He knew that the mirrians- or what was left of the mirrans were living in the Furnace. The last of the mirrans lived in fear, carefully avoiding his chancellors and whelps, and barely surviving in the horrid heat. "If I might ask...sir..." she swallowed hard as she met his unwavering, unblinking gaze. "Why have you allowed us to live so far?" Another long, contemplating pause before the Praetor's deep rumble filled the room again.

 

"I wish to know more about the mirrans."

 

Melira could not tolerate his passivity and un-insightful responses any longer.  Was he just toying with her? Something inside of her snapped, and before she knew, she was yelling at the Praetor.

"So we're an experiment for you? You want to figure out the best way to flay us? Study our habits before you turn us all into horrible mangled newts?!" she let out a small squeak when she realized what she had done. She dared not spill the secret that some mirrans, herself included, seemed immune to the corrupting oil of phyrexia.

 

This time, Urabrask's response was more immediate. His head shifted a little to the side, as if quizzical or annoyed."I am not Jin-Gitaxias." Another pause before he continued. "I want to learn more about what made you raise your voice just now. That Is what I wish to know." She could just barely see curved metallic lips moving beneath the plate that masked his head.

 

"You mean...anger? I'm sorry...I just got a little emotional."

 

"Emotion..al?"

 

"Yes...emo-" It suddenly occurred to her that he might not understand. "Humans...mirrans feel emotions.

 

They affect our decisions."

 

"Feel...with your hands?"

 

"No! You just...you just know. It's like a very strong thought." Melira was at last starting to relax a little, brushing her neatly combed fire-colored hair out of her yes. This was going better then she had anticipated, though she was not the best at explaining emotions to a being that did not feel.

 

"Strong thoughts. Yes. I believe that I have been feeling."

 

Melira raised her eyebrows in surprise, adjusting her tight fitting garb a bit better to shield herself from Urabrask's radiant heat. "Can Praetor's ...feel?"

 

"Phyrexians are perfect beings." he replied after much thought. "I am perfection. I am made to feel on purpose." His deep words were slow and labored, as though he had a difficult time coming to terms with what he had just admitted. "You must teach me more of emotion."

 

Melira tried the best she could to explain, still paranoid of her fate."Well...I already showed you anger..." she said with a nervous giggle, unsure where to go from here. "There is also happiness, sadness and love..." she paused, trying to think of other ones, taken a bit off guard by the direction of her meeting with Urabrask. At least she wasn't dead.

 

"Lovvvve?" He said slowly, pronouncing the word for the first time. "What is love?"

 

"Love is..." Melira flushed a little, regretting that she had mentioned the word in the first place. How could she explain love? She certainly was no expert, having never taken a lover. She thought back to her youth, the childish way that her own mother had explained it when she had asked such a question as a child. "Love is when you give yourself to someone else. Love is when you care for another so much that you...make each other happy. You desire to be near them, and...procreate with them" she tilted her head down, her ample chest and pale cheeks flushing at the mere thought of sex.

 

Urabrask seemed confused at the last part. "You do not proliferate through extensive use of vats?"

"No...we...copulate..." She was trying not to use any perverse terms, like she had heard many of the men at the camp say to one another in pride of their many escapades.

 

"I am aware of copulation. Several of Vorinclex's animals perform this act." He paused shortly. "Is this...love.. only present between two mirrans?"

 

Melira almost answered yes but then shut her mouth in horror. Not all mirrans were the same, and she did not want to think about the perverse fantasy of her and a leonin or a vedalken, even though it was physically possible. Many at the camp partook in such relationships, and it was impossible to ignore completely. More importantly, she couldn't lie to a Praetor. "It is....possible....for any two beings of flesh to copulate...and have love together."

 

Silence filled the room for a long while. It seemed as though Urabrask was thinking very hard before he spoke, though it was impossible to tell. "You will teach me of this love. We will have love together."

Melira stared at the Praetor with an expression of shock and horror on her face. He could not possibly know what he had just suggested. she shifted uncomfortable and tried to move away from Urabrask.

 

"I...um...don't think that's a good-"

 

"You. Will. Teach. Me." He interrupted for the first time, carefully pronouncing each word. "I have seen two beings copulate before. You must remove your false skin."

 

"Y-yes sir."Melira swallowed her pride. She was here for the mirrans fate, and she would comply with the Praetor's wishes for the hope of all the survivors. She stood silently before the great beast and shut her eyes, slipping out of the cloth that covered her slender, female form, brushing her long red hair back with one hand and letting her clothes fall to the ground. Melira had heard the mirran soldier's commenting on her when they thought she was not listening. She knew that she was beautiful. Her curved thighs and perfectly proportioned breasts now stood out for Urabrask to see, the first 'male' ever to do so. Her body flushed with shame and embarrassment, completely exposed. "Does this please you sir?" She asked the Praetor, meekly.

 

Urabrask slowly circled her standing, naked form once around before stopping in front of her, much closer than he had been when they talked. "Flesh is weak. Your form is pathetic to me." He spoke simply, as if it was a fact, and not an insult. He suddenly reached a tri clawed hand out to her face, his long nail tracing a neat scar down her cheek. She winced as he drew blood, not deeply, but enough that it stung with pain. "How shall we proceed? I believe I must insert myself inside of you." Melira opened her eyes and for the first time she saw Urabrask's cock. A huge phallus of red flesh that hung down, revealed beneath his metallic armor, bigger than anything she had expected from a man, and not even erect yet.

 

"Wait!" she practically shouted, as Urabrask mechanically tried to figure out where to thrust. "We need to...get ready first." She flushed again, realizing that she would need to start using perverse words, words that she had not spoken before. "You need to make me...wet. And I need to get you more...hard." She submissively knelt down in front of Urabrask, his large cock hanging limply between what passed for his legs. Melira couldn't believe she was about to do this to the mortal enemy of the mirrans, much less...something that was not even human. It horrified her to think of what must happen next, her precious virginity being torn from her by a Praetor. But while Melira had yet to experience such things, she learned an awful lot from listening to an army primarily composed of men talk about what they enjoyed when they were with a woman.

 

Her hands grasped his large phallus and brought it closer to her face, Melira was relieved that it looked normal, other than the dark red color. Slowly she brought the tip of his cock to her lips and pursed them for a kiss. Odd sounds began to erupt from Urabrask as she kissed his large, flaccid cock again and again, sliding her lips and tongue up and down his shaft as she had heard described. His cock tasted of soot and ash covered skin, and emanated a animal heat that Melira could not begin to describe. Opening her mouth widely, she could fit the thick head of his swelling cock into her mouth and slide down his shaft. Her first blowjob...with a monster cock. Urabrask was making deep and guttural noises, though he refrained from moving, allowing her to proceed as she wished with the foreplay. It was not long before his cock swelled too much for her mouth. She gagged a little and spat him out, her eyes widening as now she saw his member in its true erect glory, even larger, practically the size and length of her arm. That arm was going to be inside of her.

 

Melira felt fear, combined with a tingling sensation in her nether regions. Her hands slid down her body, over her large natural bosom and swiftly hardening nipples, smooth stomach and reached her mound. A tuft of bright red hair was all that kept her slit from complete exposure. She glanced down at the hair  that surrounded her virgin pussy and wondered what it would feel like to be stretched, torn apart by the mighty Urabrask. She stood before him again, a little light headed, and for the first time in her life, aroused. "Now you must touch me, my lord"  She said, with mixed fear and desire in her voice when he did not respond immediately."Please...touch me..."

 

Urabrask paused as usual before reaching out his hands to grasp her body. His clawed fingers roughly explored her flesh, digging into her back, her thighs, her breasts. His fingers felt hard and often painful when he touched her, eliciting squeals of mixed pain and pleasure from Melira. She hated the pain, she told herself over and over that she did, but even as his clawed fingers scratched the sensitive flesh of her breasts, she could feel herself gushing, yearning for something to be inside of her pussy. She would have scars after this. So many tiny scars all over her body that seemed to remind her just how much more powerful he was. He could easily tear the flesh off of her bones in an instant, but he did not. This was Urabrask being gentle.

 

Melira  could take his urgent, inexperienced touches no longer. Not because of the pain, but because his rough touch had made her juice drip down her thighs with anticipation. She needed his cock, no matter how badly it would tear her. cried for him to stop and his arms fell, he looked at her with unmoving expression, waiting for her dictation.  Melira instructed him to lie back on the floor and he did so, his massive cock springing strongly upright towards the ceiling, the head still damp with her saliva.

 Slowly Melira moved to straddle him, not an easy task by any means. Her entire body felt used already, scarred over and over again by his fingers. It hurt to move.

 

Melira positioned the cock between her legs, its head pressing against her soaking, virgin womanhood as she stood still. "Place your hands...on my hips." She instructed, voice wavering. He complied and she moved her hands to her small and drenched pussy, gently spreading open her folds to accommodate his cock. She tried to take him inside of her, but she was too tight, and barely succeeded in taking his throbbing head into herself before gasping and squealing in pleasure.

 

Urabrask understood what needed to happen, and though she stopped, he slowly started to drive her hips downwards, forcing her to take more of his massive girth. Melira screamed in pain as she was slowly impaled and torn by the Praetor, unable to find the words to tell him to stop. It felt good, horrible as that may sound. With every tear, his hot girth sent waves of euphoria through her flushed, animalistic body. Part of her brain wanted to scream 'MORE'.

 

When she had taken half of him inside of her, he was met with too much to push any further, and with no penetration, Melira was able to catch her breath. "Ok... "she gasped out between small squeals that still accompanied her breathing. "Let's stop for aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-"

 

Urabrask, for the first time in his life, was in a state of sexual pleasure. He wasn't in the mood for Melira's requests to stop. Urabrask's clawed fingers tightened their grip on her hips and lifted her entire body upward, sliding his cock out of her before slamming her back down, each time a little deeper than before, wanting to fit all of his length into her tight hole. Melira screamed as she was forcefully impaled by his hot and throbbing cock, feeling her virgin pussy stretch and tear more with each new thrust.  Sweat congealed and dripped down from her forehead and over her bouncing breasts, covering her body with a slick glistening sheen as she was fucked. Melira's screams echoed throughout the cavern, her blood and love juice dripping steadily down Urabrask's arm of a cock while he mercilessly pounded. Urabrask himself was groaning in his deep tone along with her, though he was certainly not experiencing any pain, but the best pleasure that flesh could offer him.  His cock began to feel hot to Melira, like coals from the furnace being thrust rapidly into her womb over and over.

 

It was not long after that Urabrask let out a mighty yell, and with a final impalement that sent him deep inside of her, he let his orgasm loose. A liquid much hotter and thicker then cum was supposed to be spurted into her womb and filled her completely, leaking around the cock that snugly fit her twat and leaking down her thighs. when Urabrask finally let go of her hips, she practically fell off of him, unable to stand with his cock still inside of her.  She fell onto the warm, but hard metal floor next to him, which didn't hurt so bad in comparison to her violated body.  She could feel his warm ejaculate seeping out of her womanhood and splashing onto her thighs. Looking down, to her horror she realized that he had filled her pussy with nearly half a gallon of thick, black phyrexian oil. Mortified at how alive the substance felt inside of her, she quickly used her hands to spread her tight pussy open, allowing as much of the oil as possible to gush out of her pussy.

 

Urabrask stood up quietly, apparently not tired at all, and only lying down because she had requested it in the first place. He watched her make a mess of his floor as the oil poured out of her, her face choking back sobs as she watched it flow out of her defiled pussy.

 

"Flesh is weak." he said simply, reaching down to pick up a handful of the thick oil on the floor. He held it in his hand for a moment, as if feeling for its weight before violently pushing it into her face, spearing the thick liquid onto her cheeks. The oil might have been thick, but it flowed like water, some running into her mouth before she could stop it. Melira quickly ejected the foul taste, coughing on the thick smell of something that should never be ingested. Urabrask simply watched her, waiting for the oil to corrupt and destroy flesh, as it usually did. Melira wondered if he understood the sexual and humiliating implications of what he had just done. She certainly did, and it compounded onto the overwhelming feeling his presence gave her. She was weak, and broken. Melira had been used, her body ruined and scarred for any future man, and humiliated for pleasure. Urabrask was strong and indomitable. Melira let out a few choked sobs before he spoke again.

 

"Your flesh is strong. Unlike the other flesh."

 

Melira felt pride. Pride that a Praetor would recognize her strength even after she had been completely controlled by him. "Thank you...my lord." she managed to say between tearful chokes. Urabrask now knew that she was uncorrupt able, able to withstand the oil that had claimed so many mirrans.

 

Urabrask simply waited until she was finished coughing before speaking again. He was in no rush.

"I have learned much today Melira." he called her by name for the first time. "Let the mirrans know that they may stay here...for now."

 

He summoned the two priests that had brought her in, and had them escort the naked and scarred Melira back to the Furnace. She could not stop the tears that ran down her face, nor the oil that dripped from her pussy as she walked out of the chamber. A last look was cast at the Praetor, the abomination of metal and flesh that had defiled her...that had made her a woman. She shivered lustfully one last time as the darksteel door swung shut behind her.

 

 It was a long time before Urabrask moved from his quiet contemplation. It was clear to him that he was capable of emotion, empathy at least. He sympathized with the mirrans too much to actively destroy them. But such thoughts, such feelings were treasonous. Nobody would be able to know. He would gather power, and one day spread this 'emotion' to his siblings. Perhaps then they would understand...but not before.

Summoning one of his forge chancellors he gave the order: "Seal the furnace from my brothers and sisters. Let nothing in but the mirrans."

 

An odd request, but not one that needed questioning. Urabrask knew what was best for them all.

"Yes Lord Praetor. It will be sealed."

 

 

-*-

 

It was only seconds before the process engine knew that something was wrong.  Jin-Gitaxias  unceremoniously dropped the newt that he was shaping  back into the vat and hurried to the great machine. Something was always going wrong. Every day, every hour, something would interrupt his process. At this rate he would never reach Compleation.

 

"yEs YeS! wHat iS it? his mechanical rasp echoes through the halls of his private laboratory, silent except for the vats of bubbling oil and the weak, fleshy newts that lived inside them.

"The furnace has been sealed, Lord Praetor."

 

Jin was shocked. It was unlike Urabrask to do anything at all. Literal wheels in his head began turning and devising possibilities. "wHy? " he spat out unforgivingly to the machine.

 

"Unsure."

 

"LiSt pOssiBle rEasons"

 

"Urabrask is afraid of Karn."

 

A harsh, screetching laugh erupted from Jin's maw. "noBody'sss afRaid of KArn."

 

"Urabrask is in love with his sister"

 

For a second Jin contemplated asking which one, but that too seemed ridiculous.  Jin, more intelligent then his siblings, was aware of human emotions, such as love, though he chose not to feel them himself."ThaT's nOt it yoU idioT"

 

"Urabrask is harboring the last of the mirran resistance, and will prevent Compleation."

 

"SSSStupiD prOcess enGIne..."

 

"Need I remind you, Lord Praetor, that I have a direct link to your thoughts, and am simply repeating back to you your own paranoid delusions."

 

Jin scowled as best as he could for a praetor, his jaw gnashing itself together angrily as he hissed. The process engine was the closest thing on new phyrexia to a being of his own intellect. He had designed it as a part of him, a way that he could speak to himself. Compleation was only going to happen through him. His brothers and sisters were grossly incompetent by comparison, and he was always worried they would screw things up, ruin his vision of Compleation. The process engine helped him manage the stress, the paranoia, and make sure that he fixed whatever went wrong.

 

"After performing probability calculations, we have concluded that Urabrask is likely to be protecting the resistance by a margin of 36%. By comparison, the odds of him plotting with Vorinclex to overthrow you and perform hostile takeover the labs is 39%. The odds that he has developed feelings for shelodred are 25%. The odds that Urabrask simply wants to be alone and hates all of the Great Praetors is 100%.

 

Jin waved a hand dismissively at the Engine, which seemed to rattle off his thoughts as they went through his mind. He would find out one way or another what was going on in the quiet furnace and what his brother was plotting. It would not interfere with Compleation. Of that he was sure.

 

Yawgmoth failed. His brothers and sisters would fail. Jin-Gitaxias would not fail.

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

       

 

    "Your resistance was almost admirable human," your escort began, "for one still plagued by flesh and sinew your dedication to your companions rivals those of our orthodoxy."

     

    Though your body aches to the point where you can nearly stand you muster up what little strength you have left to spit at the twisted masses of metal where your captor's feet should be. Its strange, pyramid shaped head tilts slightly as if trying to interpret the gesture. Not for the first time you feel a slight twinge of frustration at enemies that don't understand your courageous shows of defiance.

     

    The guard examines your spittle for a moment longer before dismissing it as irrelevant and continuing to jostle you down the macabre bloodstained halls of the annex. You pass horrors, a series of isolation cells filled with your mirran comrades. Some lie limply against the floors, staring straight ahead; others are being subjected to examination and varying stages of phyresis, cranks, drills and all manner of other sharp tools being prodded, forced and twisted into the soft supple flesh of the resistance; of all these horrors however, the one that stuck with you the most was the few mirrans who still held hope in their eyes as you passed. They would stare at you with their eyes, hoping that this was all some elaborate, death-defying plan to rescue them and obliterate the pyrexian scum that plagued your home.

     

    A chamber was prepared for you of course. A stalwart phyrexian roughly grabs your arm, the former leonin thrusts you into your cell, closes the door and leaves you to your own devices. The cell is barren and featureless. You suppose phyrexians have no need for decorum so it stands to reason that their captives would be given none of it either.

     

    You aren't sure how much time passes, the light is always the uniform dimness of the Orthodox and you haven't seen a meal yet. Your already battle bruised body becomes even weaker as your hunger only ever increases. You begin to black out to feverish dreams of metal blood and sweat.

     

    It is during one of these restless dreams that you awake to pure blackness. For a moment you wonder if you have gone blind and try to raise your hand to your face. Your wrist meets with a cool leathery restraint and a quick check reveals that both your arms and your legs have been securely fastened. As unsettling as this new development is you feel a sense of relief, your eyes are probably just covered by a blindfold of some sort.

     

    The relief is short lived however, as you suddenly feel dozens of fingers move across your body. As the cold, needle like digits dance across your chest and shoulders you realize that your armour had been removed. As the spidery fingers dash even lower you realize with a start that you are completely naked.  A hand closes delicately around your member and begins to gently crawl across it. You haven't been able to release any pent up sexual energy so it is not surprising that even in this horrifying situation your penis begins to grow as the slender hand gingerly pokes and prods with its sharp fingers. Though it doesn't actually affect your vision in any way, you close your eyes and imagine that the cold metallic fingers of the unseen phyrexian are the warm loving hands of Melira. Her pale breasts exposed as a nervous smile plays across the edges of her mouth.

     

    Your feverish delusion continues as her sweat covered breasts swing up and down as her hand moves more and more quickly across your shaft. Melira's face moves closer to your now fully erect penis. She glances down, smiles mischievously at it and softly allows her breath to cascade across the head. The waves of pleasure create a ripple of ecstasy along your entire body and you let out a soft moan of grattitude.

     

    At the sound of this a flurry of metallic clicks and taps assault your senses and shake the smiling vision from your mind, the numerous unseen hands quickly withdraw their exploring digits, leaving small scratches across your skin. The near-simultaneous stimulation, pain and lack of release couple with your exhaustion and you fade into a welcomed oblivion of unconsciousness.

     

    ---

     

    You awake on your knees, staring ahead at a small staircase and the polished porcelain feet of a phyrexian atop them. A red, flowing shawl lies in front of you. Your eyes are drawn to the scarlet silk and travel upwards to see the creature that dons it. A slender feminine figure, forged from the same white porcelain as the countless other phyrexians you had slaughtered sits upon a pristine throne. Unlike their cracked and dirty carpaces, the being before you has kept its feminine body spotless. The porcelain skin is unblemished and unmarred. Your gaze follows the slender red cloth until it ends at the creature's waist. Her torso lacks a porcelain plating and her exposed veins and arteries create an almost lewd display. Her chest cavity and the empty spot where a heart would rest are covered by a simple breastplate and her red and raw face is half covered by an incredibly large and elaborate helm. You had heard stories of this thing before, the higher ups in the rebellion had spoken of the five praetors leading the charge of phyrexia and of the grand cernobite of the Machine Orthodoxy. You realize with an involuntary shudder that you are grovelling naked before Elesh Norn.

     

    Despite your attempts to conceal your fear a faint smile plays across the lips of the fearsome praetor.

    "Very good child" she says in a voice of cold ivory, "while it saddens me that you still possess the frailty to display humility, I am pleased that you have chosen to show it this day."

     

    "You open your mouth, no doubt to utter a blasphemous defiling of the perfection I seek. This will not do. Your defiance and dedication would be noble were it not directed against us. For those who stand against the Orthodoxy there is no semblance of respect or admiration. Only the inevitable fall."

     

    Your mouth hangs open in silence. The praetor's voice carries with it such a commanding aura and your body is so exhausted that you cannot even summon the energy to speak. Norn gazes at you and pauses for a moment before she continues.

     

    "You have been strong fleshling. You have refused to disclose the plans or whereabouts of your co-conspirators and have demonstrated a tenacity and unity not usually reserved for those of the skin. In fact, you have already been tried by our grand inquisition and found worthy of blessed perfection. You shall not become an underling or exarch, rather you shall become a personal priest of my chapter. What do you say to this child?"

     

    You shake your head as vehemently as your exhaustion will allow. Even this small action causes the blood to flood to your head and for dark spots to cloud the corner of your vision as you almost black out. Still, your message is clear. A momentary flash of distaste crosses the praetor's face but as it passes a smile forms across her gently oozing mouth.

     

    "Defiant to the end I see. Curious, I wonder how far this dedication of yours will stretch?"

     

    She begins to rise from her throne and descends haughtily down the small steps to where you are restrained before her.

     

    "I imagine you hold on to many misconceptions about us child." she says softly "We are not, as you may imagine, here to slaughter you. We are here to liberate you of the prison of flesh that you inhabit. Our goal is only to unite all into the blessed perfection of Phyrexia. Until all are one we must continue."

     

    Her footsteps echo across the hall as her words seem to linger in your mind

     

    "Just think, why did you lose your little war? It certainly was not the weakness of your spirit or your mind, no child, it was the fragility of your body. Of your flesh. We offer you the opportunity to be welcomed into a form that knows no exhaustion, knows no fear and knows no hunger. And you do know such hunger now don't you?"

     

    Elesh Norn stops just in front of you, a slender arm reaches downward toward your cheek. The quiet sound of blood dripping from between the gaps in her plating matches the pounding blast your heart beats into your temples. Her voice drops to a hiss and then to a whisper.

     

    "A hunger for nourishment of course. But also a hunger for victory, a hunger for power, a hunger for dominance."

     

    You shake your head, trying to block her icy voice from your thoughts.

     

    "Your ambition would not be shunned by Phyrexia. Least of all by me. I enjoy those with drive. Those with motivation. In fact, let me show you exactly the type of dominance you would have were you to fall."

     

    At this she draws her hand away from your cheeks. You feel the faint traces of her crimson handprint upon your flesh.

     

    Wordlessly she signals to one of her underlings. It retreats down a corridor and returns shortly holding another figure by the hand. This new creature is as shapely as the praetor and just as feminine. Tattered wings flow elegantly from between its shoulder blades. Beneath the porcelain plating, her sinew and bone are both visible and pulse with a faint red tint. Her eyes maintain a vacant look within them and her dainty footsteps follow only where the underling leads her.

     

    "We managed to obtain one of your angels" Norn begins, "I have been made to understand that in your world these meagre beings were beacons of hope and authority. This one was a particularly fearsome warrior, damaging many of our legionnaires before at last she was brought into our haven. However, for all her power once she saw the true majesty of Phyrexia she fell to her knees and begged us not to eliminate her. I am a generous cernobite and thus I yielded to her request on one small condition. We released her back to her sisters and mere hours later she had returned to us with their lifeless bodies in hand."

     

    The porcelain praetor gently takes the hand of the angel from her underling and lays it upon your forehead.

     

    "Of course as an angel, no matter how powerful to your people, to us she was still simply incompleat. We improved upon her and now this angel, this paragon of power is nothing more or less than my faithful chancellor. Your kind cannot imagine what it is like to have dominion over such power. She will bend to my will without a second thought, she would blindly give up both her body and her life for me... and for you too if you were to join our Orthodoxy. Come, let me show you what it would be like."

     

    She clicks her fingers and the chancellor helps you to your feet. Her slender arms caress your chest and her face leans uncomfortably close to yours.

     

    "All it would take is a single little fall" Elesh Norn says quietly. She licks her lips as her chancellor brings its soulless lips to yours and kisses you,

     

    "And fall you will..."

     

    Despite the near featureless face of the chancellor, it seems that some shreds of the fiery passion of her former self linger deep inside her. Her tongue mingles with yours and dribbles a small trail of saliva down your mouth as she pulls her head back. With purposefully subdued movements she slowly places her tongue on your neck and as her hands begin to explore your chest and nipples she begins to lick your cheek and neck with a delicacy that only an angel could know.

     

    When she has had enough of your face she drapes her arms around your neck and allows herself to collapse into your form. As her kisses form a trail down from your sternum you are exposed to her once majestic wings. The bony structures still hold onto a handful of tattered feathers while the back of her upper body has been flayed red and raw, with only small pieces of porcelain plate to obstruct the view of her insides. Despite this horrific display the chancellor still manages to maintain a strangely voluptuous allure. Her slender figure flows into exquisite curves and ends in the delicious hips of the angels you had so long lusted over before the war had consumed your every waking moment.

     

    The memory of the angels you used to privately covet elicits a response from your lower regions. As your member rears up, it brushes against the cool metal plating of your fallen suitor. Though she pays it no explicit attention she brings one of her legs between yours and her hands began to cascade down your back to your inner thigh.

     

    Elesh Norn watches from her throne, a knowing smile stretched across the tendons of her face. As her chancellor began to slowly move her hands up your inner thigh and toward your gently twitching rod the praetor's smile broadens and you see a pair of small white fangs peak out from beneath her upper lip.

     

    Your thoughts are immediately drawn back to the former angel as she wraps her flawless lips around your penis. Her tongue slides down your shaft as she pushes her head down your penis, the sensation is almost overpowering. As she slowly draws her head back her skeletal wings gently trace lines down your spine, the movements of her wings synchronize with the rhythm of her head bobbing up and down along your cock. As she speeds up the skeletal pieces of porcelain dig into your skin like the arms of a lover. The ecstasy proves too much for your bruised body and a shockwave of pleasure rockets down your body, the lips of your personal angel begin to remove themselves from your shaft and gently ease off the head of your penis. She looks up at you with her cold smooth face and you swear you see an impossible smile upon her porcelain features. Her empty brown eyes reflect a tenderness and caring you have never seen in either the words or actions of the countless foot soldiers you so readily slaughtered. The fallen seraphim glances down at your now throbbing cock and inches forward just far enough to plant a light and loving kiss upon the very tip of your penis and something inside of you simply snaps.

     

    Your cock spasms violently and your head goes blank. As if possessed you lunge forward and throw your arms around the angel's torso. The strength of your embrace knocks you both to the ground but you don't notice. You madly plant kisses all across the cold breasts of what was once a proud and noble angel of Mirrodin, your cracked and dried out lips leave small red marks on the otherwise spotless body. As you entwine your arms between her legs your fingers explore her taint. Her once divine snatch is covered only by a small piece of porcelain and your eager fingers quickly find the slit into your heavenly partner. At this stimulation the former angel twitches and spasms in a strange inhuman way, as if the responses for such physical stimulation have been forgotten but not erased from what was once the noble and reserved mind of the purest of all the Mirrans.

     

    You feel a cold spidery hand upon your back. At some point previously Elesh Norn must have left her ivory throne for now she is directly behind you, as you and her chancellor writhe beneath her she speaks softly into your ear.

     

    "Your old world would not have allowed this. To deface so pure a creature as this so called 'angel'. She would never allow herself to be displayed so lewdly before you and bend to your will so easily. Even now you seem to reluctant to enact your true desires out of some sort of organic stigma. Such weakness and humility does not become our Orthodoxy. Let your hunger out and take from this creature all that you hunger for."

     

    At the sound of her voice you realize that her words ring true. Why should you respect what was once so beautiful but is now simply another phyrexian? You remove your now bloodstained fingers from your angel and insert your swollen cock. Despite the cool metal coverings the inside of the angel is warm and moist. As the two porcelain plates close around your shaft an overwhelming sense of ecstasy courses through your rod and you need to steady yourself or risk ejaculating all over her right then and there.

     

    You begin to pump your hips, your pelvis thrusting relentlessly into hers all the while listening to the praetor's words as she stands above you.

     

    "She feels no pain and you house no sympathy to her. She is perfect and soon you shall be as well."

     

    Even as you ravage the angel her hips begin to move in time with your own thrusts. As her body rocks and twitches she reaches up a cracked porcelain arm to your head and brings your lips to hers. The two of you embrace like lovers and your mouths try to swallow each other to the rhythm of your thrusts and jabs.

     

    "She is beneath you. She does not deserve your mercy. She exists only that you may reach perfection. Listen to me now."

     

    The angel's cunt oozes a strange red mixture of blood, oil and other fluids you cannot identify. While normally you would be disgusted by this sight, now, entering her so feverently and so forcefully you see it as nothing less than beautiful. To have such power over what was once so noble a creature. The feeling of domination combines with the ecstasy of the sex and a pleasure like nothing you've ever felt before courses through you.

     

    "Already you begin to reach perfection. The flesh that would act as a barrier is being overthrown. The two of you have joined to become as one. Now accept the rest of our Orthodoxy into you. Let us penetrate your being that we may spread our glory with you."

     

    Norn's words mingle with your sweat and the faintly sweet smell of the angel's sex; with your pleasure, your pain and your lust; finally you can take it no longer and surrender your will to the words of the praetor, allowing them to bore into your mind and penetrate your very soul, all the while thrusting as hard and fast as you can into the beautifully broken angel that lies before you.

     

    "This has gone on long enough," Norn begins, her mouth inching closer and closer to your neck, "there is much work to be done if we are to spread Phyrexia's majesty to the rest of this world. You must finish here with this now."

     

    Eager to appease her you find yourself endowed with renewed vigor and pump away even harder than before. The obscene wet sounds that emerge from your twisted union of flesh and blood and metal and sinew is something the likes of which Mirrodin could never have witnessed without the glory of Phyrexia to aid it.

     

    "Perhaps you require additional motivation." Norn muses to herself, and just like that, she plants a kiss upon the nape of your neck, her sharp teeth digging softly into your skin. As the praetor draws back and licks your blood from her lips the last vestiges of restraint snap and semen bursts from your cock. You shudder involuntarily as burst upon burst of your seed erupt from your penis into the once sacred body before you. After you have allowed a significant amount to ooze into your angel you pull out and run your hands down your shaft, splattering the rest of your semen onto the face, breasts and stomach of the chancellor. She slowly begins to rise, her mechanical legs shaking slightly and allows your seed to drip down her face, as she stands before you she makes no effort to remove any of the ejaculate from her voluptuous form. Your semen rests upon her figure marking her now and forever as yours.