Orc-Change Relic: Kunoichi

I, a Sister of the Shadow Blade, waited perched up against jagged rocks, cloaked in darkness. I could hear them coming. They were loud.

Orcs. A blight upon the world; Ugly and uncivilized brutes. Green-skinned, muscle bound, they towered over normal humans. They raided and ambushed anyone in their territory, even other orcs.

Unbeknownst to them, I would be the ambusher this time. My Cloak of Mists would hide me until it was too late for them, and protect me from their attacks.

I killed three with shurikens before I hit the ground. I slashed repeatedly with my katana, the Swiftblade Amnesia, which launched slicing crescents cutting multiple foes in half. Dozens were dead before they even knew they were under attack. They had no chance against my blade. I spun in a circle, bringing them a dance of death.

One orc had the brains to run, but there existed no mercy in me for this disgusting species. I tossed my dagger Shadowkiss after him, and it whizzed around to match his turns, tracking him. It flew faster and faster until it dug into his heart, extinguishing his pathetic existence.

Then there was silence; An entire warband annihilated in seconds. But there was no true victory here. Orcs infested this continent like weeds, and they multiplied endlessly. Whatever orcs lacked in humanity, intelligence, and weaponry they made up for in fertility and population growth. Slaughtering this many orcs only removed a few weeds from the garden.

***

I awoke under thick fur blankets. My heavy eyelids slowly lifted and my exhaustion twisted into confusion. The walls of a primitive hut surrounded me.

My memories after the raid on the orcs were foggy.

"Ouch!" I yelped. A pain erupted from my side and I rolled over...

"What orc tribe are you from?" An orc in a bone mask looked down on me and poked me with a carved stick. An orc shaman, an old and seemingly weak crone, but more dangerous than a normal run-of-the-mill orc. "Hmm?"

"I'm not... I don't... where is..." I stammered with a sense of dread. The words I spoke sounded wrong.

"You have no markings," the crone said and peeled back my fur blankets.

Green.   

My legs were green. I could not believe my eyes. Why would my legs be painted green?

"Which tribe?" She asked again. "You have no markings."

"I'm not in any orc-tribe," I said as I stared at my alien legs. The whole conversation felt like a weird dream.

"Feral then."

Feral. Feral orcs were tribeless. I knew that was an important distinction. Very important. But I was not sure how I knew that.

"I'm not feral, because I'm not an orc." I swam in a daze of confusion, but this one fact I knew for certain -- I am not an orc.

"You are mistaken," the crone giggled. She hobbled over to a green basket. After she rummaged inside she presented an oval hand mirror to my face. A crack down the middle and the ornate handle told me the orcs stole it from a better people.

No!

My reflection made no sense. An orc's face with wide nose and small protruding under-fangs. My skin was light green. My hair was now long and black.

"No," I looked away. I couldn't bare to see the monster's face. This was a nightmare, what type of evil sorcery was this? How could this even be real?

What orc tribe are you from -- the crone toyed with me. She hexed me, somehow. Shaman were known for simple primitive magic. She was clearly much more dangerous than she let on. This was beyond powerful magic. Not only did I look different, I spoke and understood the orcish language as fluid as my native tongue.

"Don't fret girl. I have good news. You will be taken in by us, the Haruk, as warmaster Kogath's notai."

~Notai~

I shook my head as a voice inside repeated the term 'notai' and the way it echoed in my mind. I knew (somehow) notai were feral (tribeless) or conquered orc women taken by a tribe to serve as lowly sex slaves.

As if this deranged nightmare couldn't get worse, the crone opened the hut's flap, and led in an orc male. The one she called Kogath.

"Here she is. This is the one I told you about," the crone said to him.

Kogath nodded, and then pulled off his belt, and tossed aside what little clothing he had around his crotch. In doing so he revealed his thick veined green dick. It hung down between his muscled thighs looking more like a battering ram than genitals.   

"I will take this one as notai," he said.

"Disgusting! No!" I spat, "I would rather die."

"You would deny this offer?" he asked.

"Yes! I would rather die than mate with scum like you," I said.  Kogath wasn't just 'offering' to take me once and let me go. He expected me to be his sex-slave, his notai, for the rest of my life.

Notai, ha! I could never imagine a worse fate. An orc's sex slave? I much rather they just kill me. A part of me hoped they would, and end this sick joke.

He stared at me, stunned by my disobedience, holding his cock in his hands.   

~The warmaster is strong~

Again a soft voice emerged from the back of my head. The voice was foreign, alien feeling, and I did my best to push it away. My head stung for a moment and a shiver ran down my spine.   

The warmaster grunted, picked up his belt and left the hut.

The crone tapped her stick and rocked herself in frustration. "You were not supposed to act that way."

Good. I smiled, "Ha, did you expected me to willingly become notai for your tribe?"

"Well yes, of course." More quietly she mumbled, "Something is wrong here."

"You're sick, keeping me here naked as your prisoner."

"Prisoner? You wish to leave?" she said as if the possibility had never occurred to her. She looked around. "Naked yes... first, let us get you clothing."

***

I had never experienced anything so lewd in my life.   

Outside there were hundreds of huts haphazardly built along the hillside. As we walked perverted moans echoed in the air. Not only were all the orc women topless, but nearly every one had a pregnant belly. Small bumps, and large gravid swells, and everything in-between.   

Breeders.

The whole tribe, they were all breeding. I knew orc reproduced quickly but observing it still shocked me. The air reeked of sex and orc cum. They all moaned and fucked, and bred without a care or ounce of modesty. Not a village, it was an orgy of impregnation to produce new orcs. They mated openly with no care of being seen like disgusting animals.

We paused before a hut with an orc female on he knees being fucked from behind. At first she stared passed us like she didn't notice (or care) we were there.

But then she made eye contact with me and gave me a strange grin. "His dick is so good," the notai moaned. Then her face once again glazed over, like nothing in the world mattered.

"Kas here," the crone explained, "is a notai taken from the conquered Bone Fist tribe. Defeating them costs us many orcs, but she is diligently making more."

I said nothing, for I already knew. I could tell from her markings she had been born in a different tribe. And I hated I could read an orc's markings. Just like I could speak and understand their words. And it disturbed me she acted like no captive I've ever seen. Eagerly breeding with her subjugator like an eager rabbit in heat.

Then I realized how I must look. I stood naked from head to toe, and casually watched two orcs mate. The transformation had given me a lewdly curved body, which was open for all to see. I crossed my arms to cover my nipples. "Lets go," I said in a hurry.

The crone hobbled forward, leading me on. She smiled and said, "The offer to be Kogath's notai still stands. That could be you, in Kas's position."

Before I could answer the alien voice whispered to me.

~I want to be like Kas, on my knees eagerly fucking an orc warrior to make greenskin babies~

No!

My forehead erupted in pain as I pushed the voice away, and I shook my head in disgust.

"You are despicable and lustful creatures," I said to both the voice and crone. "I hate you. All of you. Orcs are my enemies, I've killed thousands of you."

"Ha" she scoffed like she didn't believe what I said. Then she shook her head. "But why would you think hatred and killing would make you less feral? Less willing to submit? Hate only makes your submission more natural. Females from hated tribes are the best notai."

"I'm nothing like you."

"You are an odd one," she said with a nod. "But before we found you, I had a vision. I saw you kneeling before Kogath offering yourself to him."

Vision, bah. I would never!

Before I could retort, she pointed to a hut and led me inside.

"Here is your clothing," she said, and handed me a seed covered in huge leaves.

"I don't understand, what do I do with this?"

"Take the end of the leaf like this, and pull," she said, and tugged the leaf off.    "Husk enough of these seeds and you can make your clothing."

She expected me to craft my own clothing like a slave, but what choice did I have?

"I'll leave you to it." the crone said and hobbled off.

After I few tugs, I knew exactly how, like I had done it a thousand times before. I even started to stitch the leaves together without direction.

As I worked a little orc girl ran in and pointed at me. "They say you are the crazy one?"

"I am?"

"You declined being a warmaster's mate."

"Yes."

Her eyes widened, "Ooo, not even a lok'gol would that!" Lok'gol, I again mysterious knew, was a female orc that was born into a tribe, and had much higher status than notai.

"Why?"

"I am human."

"Human!" The little orc girl laughed. "You are funny!"

"Say, do you know where they would bring in plunder, weapons like swords they took from humans?"

"Of course, the red hut," She told me. She pointed the direction, far on the other side of the hill. Then she ran off.

I finished the skirt, and the chain of large leaves hung down snugly around my hips. I was ready. With the crone off my back, and leaf skirt complete, this was my chance to escape.

Time to go.

But out in the open, the orcs' brazen mating assaulted my ears with loud moans. A few even made strange screams of pleasure surely only an orc could possibly make. These disgusting creatures never stopped mating.

~I want to fuck!~

I paused, my head flooded with pain.

I cupped my ears, drowning out the degenerate sounds and ran.

The were no guards at the hut. I walked right in, and it took me mere seconds to spot my gear.

The Swiftblade Amnesia, Shadowkiss, and my Cloak of Mists were right there out in the open. I had only been separated from them for some hours but it felt like a dozen lifetimes. The were as a part of me as my own hands and feet.

This nightmare ends now.

With these, I don't even need to escape, I can destroy the whole tribe. Then find a way to reverse this transformation.

I let out a sigh of relief. I picked up Amnesia, my savior, and balanced the blade in my hand.

~It feels wrong~

I flinched, and wanted to disagree... But the voice spoke true. The crone's transformation hex had enlarged my whole body. So in comparison to my larger hand the blade had shrunk. The perfectly crafted hilt now wasn't long enough for two hands, yet felt a little too big for one. Both too small and too big. The precise killing machine now felt unbalanced and unwieldy.

I gave it a swing.   

I expected the black slash of pure death that always emanated from my trusty enchanted blade. I expected the power of a legendary weapon. I expected to feel the mighty laceration that had downed thousands of my enemies.

"Nothing," I muttered. The blade felt weak and unpowered. Nothing more than a hunk of metal.

I put it down in frustration and picked up Shadowkiss. "Ugh." It was even worse. A little child's toy in my green hands. I gave it a try, tossing it against the huts walls.

"Nothing, again!" I grunted with anger. It's enchantments didn't activate. I picked it up and threw it again, harder. It flopped against the wall like a dead fish. "Damn it!"

~Leave this useless human trash~

No! I gripped the weapons harder through an intense wave of pain. These were my most precious tools. They were mine!

I had to abandon the idea of destroying the encampment though. I could only escape. I wrapped my two blades in my cloak and ran. The red hut wasn't far from the edge of the village. A line of trees, my freedom, so close.

~No! I want to stay~ 

The pain grew worse. My head splitting in half. I stumbled. The voice throbbed, ordering me to turn back. I knelt to rest. I didn't want to stay long, but the length of my temporary pause grew longer. My legs wouldn't move. I doubted I could stand. But I had to! I kept my breaths slow and steady, I focused on my goal, the line of trees, but my vision wavered.

I stumbled forward, only making another step before I knelt again. My orc body fought me every inch. I barely made any progress.

When I looked up, the crone stood before me, watching.

"Stay back!" I grabbed the katana and pointed it at her.

"Those will do you no good," the crone said.

"What did you do to me? Why is my gear powerless?"

"I think you know why."

"I don't! How? How did you do this to me? Rob me of my humanity and transform me into a feral orc?" I took a step forward, and the voice lashed out at me-

~Submit~

I tumbled down, and laid in the grass. "My head, it hurts, its hurts so much." The crone stood over me and reached out her hand. "What are you doing?" I croaked.

"Just a little healing," she said and placed her hand on my forehead.

I remembered.

I remembered the sleek black pyramid, the strange artifact I'd looted from the orc warband. I remembered studying it, this odd enigma. I remembered feeling its latent power, but its purpose alluded me.

I came to a river under a waterfall, and still I studied the device. As I waded across in the water, suddenly I knew its truth. "Open," I had said in a strange and ancient language. And it did.

Bright light, brighter than I'd ever seen had washed over me. It poured into me. It filled me. The light changed me, remade me. I was reborn. Then I had stumbled to shore, my empty green hands reaching out as I tumbled face first into the rocks.

I did this.

Not the Haruk, not the shaman. And the weapons, why they didn't work, I knew. Their enchantments only worked for humans. Their powers were for human hands, human souls. Which meant even deep down inside I was... I am...

~I am orc~  this thought started like a spark in my brain, but this time I didn't fight it. I gave in and let it pass. I let its truth flow from my mind directly to tip of my tongue, "I am orc."   

Yes. I am an ORC and these thoughts I had been fighting were MINE.

The pain evaporated. Everything was so clear, both my vision and my thoughts. I transformed myself into an orc. In a way I'd always been orc, since the moment I was born, since the moment she activated the device. I'd been fighting it, resisting the obvious.

(I am human!)

The human passenger inside whined, but I could no longer confuse its voice for my own. The weapons knew who I was. They knew I was no human. And my hand in the grass matched -- same shade of green. My soul as green as my skin. This was my truth.

"I did this," I said. "The relic I found remade me... now I am orc."

"Yes you are." the wise shaman said as she pat my head. "What do you want?"

What would any feral orc want?

(Escape!)

"Please allow me to be claimed by your tribe."

"Yes. Come. It shall be as I foresaw."

I got up and dutifully followed the Haruk's honorable shaman. I left the useless human tools behind. They were no matter for me. They would be gathered by another, and then melted down into something useful.

(No! Do not follow her!)

(Fight this! You are human!)

(This is wrong!)

Nothing the human voice said affected me. My role as a feral was to obey any tribe willing to welcome me.

The shaman had me wait inside her hut.

(Run! This is our chance for escape!)

I had no interest in escape. I thought of Kas and the orc women along the hillside. I wanted to be like them! I want the pleasure I saw in their slutty faces! I want to be crudely fucked by huge orc cock! I want to become the slave of an orc warrior who will cum inside me without remorse! I want to be bred with orc dick and be used by the tribe to give birth to orc babies! 

These were my true thoughts. It was in my blood. My purpose in life! Why had I been resisting this?

Oh but I HAD foolishly resisted. I, a lowly tribeless feral had insulted and dishonored the warmaster. Why had I done something so STUPID? Not even a lok'gol would do that, the young one had said. My shame unbearable; my humiliation infinite.

When Kogath returned with the shaman, I threw myself at him in a frenzy of self-abasement and apologies.

"Please, please forgive me," I said. But words would never be enough. I placed my tongue on his foot and licked. Then again, and again. My tongue bathed the top of his foot in penance.

"I see you've had a change of heart," he said.

"Uhhh!" I moaned my agreement.

"True you were human?"

I paused, because to me, I'd always been orc -- the other, she'd been human. But this wasn't what the warmaster was asking "I... I was human, but no longer. The relic she found -- I found -- remade me."

The warmaster turned to the shaman and nodded.

"She told the young-one she was human," the shaman explained, "and we found her with equipment from the human-tribe. I believe this is why the vision of her came to me. Why it was so strong. Why I was shown this truth. I believe after she becomes yours, she will lead us to this relic."

"If I take you as notai, you will betray the humans?" he asked me. "You will lead us to the relic. You who rejected my offer to be notai? You will trade this great weapon for your chance to breed?"

Ah, of course, it was the relic they were after, not me. Why else would the shaman offer a pathetic feral to a warmaster? The relic stripped me of my humanity, made my armaments useless, and utterly defeated me. Their enemies would be helpless against its power. Their tribe would be near invincible with it. And now they offered a trade -- if I gave up its location, I would get to be enslaved by the warmaster. I would be allowed to be his notai.

(No don't! Its too dangerous in their hands!)

"I... no." This was beyond me.

"You will still defy us?"

(Yes! Resist!)

"I can not trade." I said as I pressed my forehead into the dirt before him. "I will give you the relic no matter what you decide. Even if you toss me aside like trash. As a lowly feral bitch, I am beneath asking anything of you. I only obey."

(What are you saying!?)

"This from the one who said she would rather die than mate with me? Sit up, let me see you."

I sat back and squatted down with my knees apart. I put my hands behind my head and jut out my breasts for him to examine. I had grown -- taller upwards, but also outwards. Wide hips and giant green globes on my chest.

(Ugh! Don't let him touch you!)

He ran his hands up my body. He fondled my butt, and ran fingers up my back. He gripped my breasts and squeezed. I moaned in appreciation.

I hope my body pleases him.

"Please forgive me for being so stupid before. I don't deserve a warmaster but please consider giving me to another."

"No," he said and I gazed at him in fear.

I whimpered. Did I not deserve to be notai?

"The shaman is correct," he said. "you belong to me. As a member of our hated enemy, the first stolen from the human-tribe, you are mine by right of conquest."

Yes!

(No!)

"I shall take this one as notai," he declared.