A (soon to be) Genestealer Patriarch

You draw yourself up to your full height, roaring your satisfaction to the heavens, or rather to the roof of the cargo container you're currently in. Beneath you, there lies a woman, already blessed with the Genestealer kiss and with your cum, a thin strand of white fluid leading from her pussy to your ridged, still-hard, cock.

The first Genestealer cultist on this world, and the beginnings of your ascention to Patriarch-hood.

It wasn't so long ago that you were newly-born, climbing out of the Norn Queen and being lead off into the depths of the Hulk your Hive Fleet was hidden in. The prey would call it a splinter fleet, or a remnant. It's not much of a fleet, small enough to hide within a single hulk, but it's enough to doom this entire sector.

You grin, all fangs and no humour, and roar again, gesturing with all four arms. The landing was rough, as you'd expect when you're landing in metal containers, with no engines and minimal cushioning. At least they dropped you from within the atmosphere, so the containers didn't burn up.

Only a half-dozen of your broodmates survived, but again, it's enough to doom this entire sector...

There's a knock on the side of the container. "You okay in there,