Short Tau fapfics

"Wake up". Sho’La was repeating those two words from where she slumped against the opposite wall of the room, ten feet away. Tu’Ro blinked sleepily, looked upwards, and decided that "pit" was more fitting than "room" - eight feet above the floor, she could see the space opened up above them, illuminated with the blue glare of lamps hung from a much higher ceiling. Their surroundings were minimalist: the only features in the ten-foot square floor of their pit was a rusted central grate, and heavy manacles bolted to the walls, one set to each side. Apparently their captors had deemed them unnecessary for the girls, who had been left unrestrained. Atop a low metal bench along one edge of the pit sat a pair of tarnished metal containers. Tu’Ro hugged her knees to try and stave off the cold, wishing that either of them had any clothes.



"Sister..." Tu’Ro stood unsteadily and stumbled across the cell to drop by her sister's side, hugging her tightly. They remained that way for a few minutes, each finding the body of the other a small respite from the cold. "They brought us food". Sho’La gestured to the receptacles on the bench. Tu’Ro fetched the containers: metal bowls filled with ruddy-hued, thick paste, punctuated by occasional lumps. The flavour was strange - hot and sweet and entirely synthetic.



A few hours had passed after their meal when the light overhead was eclipsed by a moving gantry being brought into place above them. From the mass of girders was lowered a platform, hanging from chains at each corner. The girls had to crawl against the walls of their pit to avoid being crushed as it descended, and after it had been brought down, two of their captors stepped off the platform, burly, thuggish-looking men in white aprons and black leather gauntlets. They were tattooed to varying extents - in particular, Tu’Ro noted unmistakable shapes that signified allegiance to the chaos gods. One of the men bore a mark of Khorne on his forehead, comprised of pink scar tissue. Each of the jailers grabbed one of the girls, the first manhandling Tu’Ro onto the platform whilst the second picked Sho’La up bodily. She hung in his arms weakly, whilst the first placed his gloved hand on Tu’Ro's breast, laughing salaciously as he groped her.

In time the platform was raised and swung over to an elevated walkway, down which the girls were escorted. Over each side were visible numerous pits like their own, with occupants diverse in race and physical condition. Tu’Ro felt a sharp sensation in the small of her back as the guard jabbed at her with some sharp implement, and she tried to stumble onwards faster. A bare toe caught in the grating of the walkway and she fell forwards onto the hard metal.



"Useless creature". The guard tutted, grabbing her by her ankle and starting to drag her along the walkway. "Worthless slime, sometimes I wish we didn't have to bother with you idiots at all. Worm. Scum. Maggot. Filth". The guard continued to tax his imagination for demeaning things to call Tu’Ro as he dragged her onwards, every so often her head bashing into a bolt or rivet on the walkway's metal floor.



Tu’Ro had started leaving a trail of blood towards the end of their journey from a cut on her forehead, where she had encountered a door-tread. From her position on the floor she saw a change in the surroundings as they made their transition from corridor into a room, poorly-lit, with tiled walls and a scuffed, bare metal floor. The guards held a conversation with some third individual, and then they set to work roughly handling the girls into position whilst their interlocutor left to "prepare the equipment". Once the girls had been secured, the guards left the room. Tu’Ro considered their situation while they awaited the return of the third person.



Sho’La had been secured to a cross-shaped armature, upright against the wall, by her ankles and wrists. She bobbed up and down uncomfortably, trying to find some non-existent equilibrium between the pain in her arms and the pain in her legs as they took turns in bearing her weight. Tu’Ro watched this from her position beneath Sho’La, where she had been laid face-up on a wooden table, and secured there with coarse ropes around her chest, hips and ankles, her arms held to her sides. The rope scratched against her skin disagreeably as she tried to look around the rest of the room, sparing her sister's modesty by averting her gaze from her cunt, ten inches above Tu’Ro's face. As she swiveled her eyes about she beheld decay and disrepair. The yellowed, tiled walls were streaked with grime, and here and there, mould thrived within cracks. From a toolboard secured to the wall on her left hung rusted implements. Water dribbled along several cracks in the ceiling. The air was damp, and smelled of rot.



The man whom Tu’Ro had heard earlier returned to the room, pulling a trolley. The leathery material of his flesh-coloured lab coat creaked and rustled as he walked over to the table. White hair in thin, wispy strands cascaded down the sides of his head, although the top was completely bald. The weathered, ancient-looking features of his face bore a serene expression. Chugging, mechanical noises wheezed from machinery that clung to his back like some immense, complex backpack of tubes and articulated arms, although looking more closely Tu’Ro saw that parts of it interfaced with the man's flesh, several thin tubes pulsing with dark liquid that the machine pumped into his the carotid arteries either side of his neck.



"I hope we can enjoy our time together". He said. "You have been blessed with the good fortune to meet with none other than me, the brilliant scientist, Fabius Bile. What was it your names were, again..?"

The girls remained silent. Tu’Ro glared at him from beneath her sister's perineum.

"Well. It's not as if it matters anyway". He smiled then, and patted Tu’Ro on the thigh. His hands were aged, somehow frail but without having lost any strength. He turned his attention to Sho’La.

"The remarkable thing about the physiology of you Tau", he began, a pair of arms blossoming from the machinery upon his back, "Is that your cellular biochemistry is so remarkably efficient". The arms swung forward, each tip bearing a thick-barrelled syringe with a gleaming needle-tip.

"For example", he continued, as the arms whined forward under the control of dozens of precisely-controlled motors and pistons, "once I introduce this retrovirus into your tissues, the effects will be visible within minutes. I can specify all the changes that I want to happen in my little piece of DNA, package it up in a protein capsule, and then it will go to work just as soon as it hits your bloodstream. Of course, injecting it closer to the target areas always helps". As if to emphasise the last word, the needles darted forward, one plunging into each of Sho’La's breasts, delivering their biochemical payloads. Sho’La gasped at the sudden pressure, although the pain soon passed, leaving only a tender feeling in her breasts. Her nipples perked up, erect.



"As to why I do things like this, I have no particularly good reason", Bile explained, rooting through the equipment he had pulled in on the trolley. "Maybe I like to exercise power over biology just because I can".

He turned round with his hands full of devices of unfathomable purpose, depositing some of them on the table but keeping hold of a pair of harnesses linked with a transparent tube.

"Maybe it's because, after thousands of years of this sort of thing, it's because I'm growing a little bored".

He walked around behind the cross to which Sho’La was bound, and adjusted straps and buckles on an elaborate harness which he proceeded to fit around her chest, one conical aperture capping each of her nipples and attached to lengths of transparent tubing, which met in a Y-shape.

"Maybe", he said, appearing in front of her from the other side, "I'm just a crazy old man".

He stooped down and grabbed Tu’Ro's face with his left hand. She was surprised at the strength of his emaciated, ancient hands as he forced open her mouth and introduced the other end of the tubing, which passed through a wide leather band. This he secured around the back of her head, cinching the straps tightly, the gag holding the tube firmly in Tu’Ro's mouth.



He stood up, grunting with the effort. "Feeling any different?" he asked Sho’La, who was. "Let's take a look... ah". Bile cupped his hand around Sho’La's left breast, gently, expertly massaging his thumb over its upper surface. Sho’La cringed at the hideously improbable feeling that his hands elicited: like having to sneeze, but from her tit, rather than her nose. She fought the feeling growing inside her chest as Bile's hands caressed her skin, holding herself on the brink.

"Why don't you just... let it go?" Bile whispered into her ear, giving her breast a short, forward tug.



Sho’La gasped and let out a shuddering cry as the first jet of white fluid squirted forth from her nipple. She saw it spatter against the sides of the cone, surging down into the tubing. Below, Tu’Ro cringed and screwed her eyes shut at the sight of the milk's inexorable advance, trickling down the walls of the tube, and soon pursued by more as Bile started to massage Sho’La's other breast. A few seconds after that she felt the first drops of warm, sweet liquid drip onto her tongue. What Tu’Ro found most appalling of all was that it did not taste entirely unpleasant. She tried in vain to push the gag out of her mouth with her tongue, but her jaws were held open and immobile. The milk continued to trickle down into her mouth and, accepting her fate, she grudgingly started to swallow it, with some difficulty due to her horizontal position.



"Tasty?" enquired Bile, leaning down to grin at Tu’Ro whilst he continued to knead her sister's breasts. Tu’Ro narrowed her eyes at him. She was obliged to continue gulping down mouthfuls of her sister's breast-milk to avoid suffocation, and this continued for some time. On a few occasions, Tu’Ro mis-timed the swallowing with her breathing and nearly choked, sneezing milk out of her nose in the process. All the while she heard her sister moaning above her, at first crying in frustration and helplessness, but Tu’Ro had noticed a worrying shift in the timbre of her voice latterly, her moans becoming more drawn out and breathy. Surely she couldn't actually be enjoying this. What vile neurochemical manipulation was Bile subjecting her to with his horrid serum?



Tu’Ro's suspicions were confirmed when she happened to look up again at her sister's genitals above her, and saw that her labia had reddened and swollen slightly, and was slick with vaginal exudations. Apparently she was enjoying the process very much, as some of the exudate gathered at the lowest point before the drip detached itself and fell. It was as if time slowed down for Tu’Ro as she saw the droplet descend towards her face, inevitable, unstoppable. The glob of vaginal juice spattered against her left cheek. She blinked some of it out of her eye.



Apparently Bile had tired of the milking by this point, as he ceased fondling Sho’La's tits and detached the harness from her. Then he removed Tu’Ro's gag as well, and she gasped as she was once again able to breathe unimpeded.



Bile crouched down besides Tu’Ro and grinned. "And now, my girl, it's time for you to take the spotlight. With my serum, your sister's mammary glands were modified to produce some quite interesting chemicals. But first, a little re-arrangement is in order". He left the room and returned with the pair of guards, who removed the girls' restraints and escorted them out of the room.