In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

The flames of war rage on the galactic scale, swallowing star systems whole, taking untold numbers of lives with it.

Humankind does its best to survive in this cruel universe, persevering with courage, zealot, and a pinch of madness.

Hive cities, the backbone of the Imperium Of Man, dot the many planets under its control, fueling the immovable and unstoppable war machine.

You were the resident of one, forced to live in the megastructure that sucks everything of value, air, water, and everything in between of this lifeless rock.

A low-ranking servitor engineer, your boss barks orders at you to keep the half-mechanical abominations in working order - the servitors.

They were once men, like you, but committed a crime, heresy, or just were low lives at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Crudely mixed with circuits and metal, forced to do the most menial tasks in the Imperium.

Those dull, clumsy tin cans are probably the only ones that are below you in this district, far away from the civilians.

You and your boss are the only living things around, aside from these... things. entrusted to maintain the infinite kilometers of tubes, wires, and random machinery.

Your overweight, lazy, and downright disgusting supervisor does nothing but watch the wall of monitors, checking the readings of the systems and reports of the servitors.

Scratching his fat belly, he tells you that one of the servitors broke for good, not even worth picking it up for scrap, and you need to pick up the other one waiting in the maintenance bay.

You heavily sigh, already working unpaid overtime for the seventh time this week, he could've just pressed the button, but he loves too much kicking you around to do it.

Walking down the stuffy, metal tiny corridors, their oppressive atmosphere sucked any life out of you years ago, but still, you march on. For the Emperor as they say.

Reaching the dirty, messy room, the living quarters of the servitors by the loosest definition.

Just metal boxes for the cyborg servants to sit until they're needed, connected to the support system that charges and feeds nutrients through the tubes.

You see the only free unit, a female.

She was a grey Felinid, a human-cat hybrid, barely accepted by the Adeptus Administratum as a part of the glorious humankind, and silently ignored by the society.

Chained to her place, servitors aren't known to be obedient all the time, especially when not doing any orders, she shifts her weight from one leg to the other as she looks up to you with her teal eye and the mechanical yellow artificial one.

As she did it, you noticed her two big breasts wobble under her rags, and her plump, thick thighs, the cyborg still had a body of a woman intact, despite it being violated by forced enhancements.

Nervously gulping to yourself, you haven't seen a woman for weeks, forced to work deep in the Hive City away from the civilization and other humans.

Your pants already feel tight in the crotch, and your heartbeat spiking, as your nose caught the unmistakable feminine fragrance, almost drowned in the smell of metal and oil grease.

What are you gonna do?

***

Another version of Hochune Meowku, but this time she is from the Warhammer 40,000 universe, as a felinid servitor.

e621 link:
https://e621.net/posts/3356521

Art by  HlebushekUWU

Character belongs to  Kelnich