It grew harder and harder for Cultist to keep the foliage in hand without grinding it to a smear. Against the extent of her growing stomach and hips - creating a pit that was only a fraction of her 230-meter-tall body’s width - the ground itself was beginning to sink. Barren lands were inundated with moisture; trees gathered and tossed aside as she examined them for hidden outposts, or hidden fruits; and skies above her shaking rear, full of ships in retreat...

...Just as another set, guided out of the warp by the Emperor's light, arrived in the planet's atmosphere. From flashing Avengers and Lightings, to whirring Thunderhawks and Stormhawks, a much larger fleet of craft arrived; poised a distance above the 100 meters of black-clothed backside; still unnoticed amid heretical hums and laughs. The air force barely awaited the army's retreat before unloading their arsenal towards all visible targets. Marauders dropped bombs that landed perfectly in the crevices of her wiggling toes. Thunderbolt soared up the ramp of her foot to unleash the fiery wrath of autocannons upon the red tattoo on her sole. The roaring rumble of Heavy Bolters echoed up and down the extent of her legs, barely making an impact in the fabric. Chiropteran Scouts mapped out the dimensions of her ever-growing body, floating between a crevice leading up to her spine. Twin Lightning Strike Fighters flanked around to deliver a payload of scorching missiles onto her plush buttocks.

It made no marks in the pitch-black fabric.

The colossus of a cultist was not unlike an Imperetor-class Titan - and watching her shift slightly to see what was bugging her back was not unlike seeing one of their cathedrals' spires shift in the middle of the battlefield. To give her red eyes a less obstructed view, she temporarily unhooked her Chaos Star from the piercings on her back, and rolled it to the side - where it expanded at the same rate. Its static growth, on its own, generated ruptures against the mound it rested on; which paled in comparison to the trembling, destructive energy of its owner's excited movements.

"Zees plahnet has beeg bugs..."

As the purple strands of her hair swung back over her shoulders, it generated strong enough air currents to knock the Imperial crafts' flight paths asunder. Their continuous fire kept fizzling to nothing but minor itches in her olive skin. Orderly formations sent waves of fire to any bit of the gargantuan target, which just kept getting bigger. Even traces of gunpowder in the Khornate mark vanished, shrinking away as the chaos-powered growth made her skin cells beneath vaster.

In fact, from the sheer speed of the growth, the lowest-flying Avengers had a view of the Cultist's resting stomach at its sides; spreading further out, cracks forming from the slightly-raised belly as it applied greater pressure to the planet's crust, perspiration from sweltering stars continuing to irrigate the ruptures.

With Cultist's head turned back, the scale of her smile increased. "Naht bugs - loyalheests!" With a finger rising to her lips, she jolted a leg up on reflex - and found the Aeronautica Imperialis forces, large and small, scattering to escape the swing. Even those Sky Talons still incoming from a distance away experience turbulence; their wings swaying to adjust to the incredible windpower, kicking small clumps of dust up on their windshields.

Their engines buzzing around like insects around a Nurglite, she watched their flight patterns with twisted fascination. "Do hyuu really neehd ahll those flying theengs to puhrge wahn culteest? Eet feehls a leetle lopsided." She rolled over to swat at a ticklish Lightning Fighter blasting her left thigh; whose panting pilot only barely navigated through the multi-meter-spanning gaps between her fingers. The Imperial looked to the rear view with horror to see that her fingers were still chasing him; and a palm rose ahead of him to block his path. It took a harsh nosedive to escape the walls on either side; and even then, the rest of her body was slowly rolling about, to and fro, more and more of his comrades struggling to keep their aim steady.

"Hwee always wanted to catch a bug weeth chopsteeks!" At that, a few uprooted trees ended up in her hands; snapping and pinching towards scattering, rushing aircraft.

While she occupied herself chasing the fighters and bombers behind her back, trying to catch one, it gave the gunships the time they needed for their backup strategy. Huge masses of wire rope, enforced and blessed in a nearby forge world, dropped from their hatches; soldiers skydiving down to wrap the manifold strands around her. Many steel tendrils jutted out from the aircraft, spreading across fabric on her legs, flesh on her back, and hooking around the back of her bra. Either leaping down of their own accord, or scattered off by the wiggling movement, the guardsmen grouped at the ground below; risking being crushed by the looming stomach and knees, so they could bury the ends of the threads beneath the already-loosened soil, and wrap them together beneath the looming canopies of olive flesh.

Like a lost myth of the old world, they hoped to tie the raging beast down, halting her wild movement in a thousand knots. The ones around her ever-agile arms had the most trouble, trying to avoid getting sent off with a swoop before completing their mission; while soldiers gathered near her hips or knees had to match the motion of her idle twisting and rolling, lest they risk her squashing their squad altogether. More powerful Thunderhawk Transporters arrived, connecting to the ropes, so their mighty engines could work in tandem to transport the mass of moving heresy wherever their leader pleased. Some glared at comrades with the far-safer job of abducting her Chaos star by its eight points, only their sense of duty preventing them from giving in to envy.

It was just as they made the finishing twists that an explosion rang out in the air. Cultist had snatched a Marauder Bomber between the hard bark; and grabbed it for a closer look, the nose crumpling like tinfoil in the tip of her index and thumb. Eyes following the crew as they parachuted out, her 800-million-joule giggles blew them into distant shrubbery. "Hwee deed it! Hahah, veectoree! Hwee cap-toored thees fly for Kay-oss!"

She got up.

Nobody could believe it.

Those who'd tied her down and rushed for shelter. Those still in the vehicles, held by rope from her wrists and ankles. Those who were ready to intercept and carry her.

Defying kilometers of wire bounding her to the soil, defying a fleet of the finest airborne machines designed by man pushing back, defying the tactical minds trusted with serving the Emperor's will, Cultist got to her feet, and performed a joyous victory dance.

Art by Hank88

Instantly, the precisely-calculated flight patterns, memorized from tactical guides, were replaced with uncivilized swinging, off waving arms and gyrating hips. Her body lifted higher than ever, muscles in her limbs and abdomen curling and uncurling; each untamed sinew outpowering their thrusters, and nearly awakening Sepsis from her third afternoon nap. It wasn't just dangerous for those around her upper body; the unpredictable, jubilant dance made her leap left and right, causing calamitous quakes all around the ground-bound Guardsmen. Thanks to the earlier pressure of the now 300-kiloton body, and their own efforts to dig the wires underground, new layers of soil eroded with every step; splashing them with mud in parts of their uniforms they didn't know existed until now.

It had taken much horsepower and manpower, many sputtering engines, but dropships were lifting her hefty chaos star decoration from the ground. Their unsteady sailing led it right into Cultist's clutches; where she eagerly grabbed it in one deft swipe, along with the rest of the crew. "Thank hyu!" With only one hand, she lifted the hovering decoration higher; and hooked it to the appropriate spots on her shoulder blades, wiggling it into place without even losing a beat. Those ships, once a safe distance away, now also joined in the quaking, wobbling display of success. Meanwhile, all the remaining members of the fleet, still unbound from her body, fired at it; hoping to break apart one of the very cables their forces designed to resist the strongest blows.

A few of the smaller Thunderbolts had the privilege of slamming into her sides, against her armpits, or into her legs' crevices; escaping the smoldering wreckage just as it disappeared into her skin, falling limply with crackling sensors and twisted tail wings. Others were tossed this way and that as the wire loosened or snapped against the continuously outstretching flesh; making crash-landings that stranded the crews on the planet's surface. Less fortunate machines were subject to sickening bopping and revolutions; witnessing firsthand, from windows and radars, groovy shimmying outright banned in most parts of their civilization; and between useless attempts at ripping free, their pilots prayed forgiveness for having their Emperor-given arms involved in such a heretical dance.

With each part of her waving, cheerful dance, she only appeared more frighteningly huge; and the ground only trembled more under her every strut and leap. As if, by waving the signal to the heavens and the regiments of tiny borrower-like soldiers below, the power of the warp channeled through her more intensely.

Or, as if all the stomping, burrowing, gunfire, and crashes into the ground were awakening dormant volcanic lines, shifting tectonic plates like a sliding puzzle.

By the time Cultist had stopped to realize the shaking, it was too late for her to stop. More and more magma bubbled beneath, making her look down in curiosity and worry. In a single spurt, the earth opened - and a geyser of gushing, violent lava erupted from beneath her, right at her tush.

"H-yaaaaargh!"

Such was the force of the eruption, and her leap of pain from the searing motion, it launched her out of the bounds of Brore S05's stratosphere. The remains of her rampage were left behind, barely controlled by innumerable dazed loyalists - struggling to make sense of the situation. They watched all around the de-captured base as their 460-meter tall foe took flight, ascending to a small flicker in the ashen sky.

***

"Thank the throne!"

"Oh, glorious day, the evil has destroyed itself!"

"Finally, I don't think I could've taken another moment of that assault-drill screeching!"

"Surely, the vacuum of space will consume her as punishment for the pure minds she's consumed."

"I still say Exterminatus. Just to be sure its presence is all gone, like, 100%."

Onlookers were taken with a mix of pride and suspicion, seeing the colossal threat blast off to parts unknown. Yet, their leader stood staring at the remaining images, and the prints her extremities made in the ground as they filled with searing magma. To be so close, and yet, this distant from seeing her right before him. He'd have to cancel the work with Ringarde, if it wasn't already-

"Pray, what’s going on in --- by the Emperor."

Mixed shouting took his attention as the commanders glared with growing bewilderment upon sensors, and responding in exasperation to incoming reports from their subordinates.

"What unholy magick plot armor can survive the heat of a volcano - AND the frost of space?"

"No, no, keep them evacuated! The *THING* is right there, in the middle of it!"

"How do we even mobilize our forces there?"

"That level of collateral damage, already - the beast!"

"At the very heart of Imperial safety and order... My liege, may I recommend Exterminatus."

He parted their pauldrons to look at the reports himself. With a slow nod of forced, barely-maintained somberness, he called for one of the Servo-skulls. "Tell Ringarde that the battlefield has changed. Brore S03. Yes, the Hive World."

***