This Story Ain't About You

This story might be a touch meaner than my usual fare, but it still has plenty of gender vibes from the protagonist's transformation! Corruption and Mind Control are a central theme, however, so heads up if that's an issue! Also featured is bimbofication, name theft, identity play, transformation, game elements being perverted, and of course, magical lactation-induced tramp stamps!

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It had been two weeks since the moment he'd been hit by the bus, and Mark was no closer to figuring out what had happened. He wasn't a physicist or an engineer. Hell, he had barely even completed his Bachelors in Fine Arts. But from the multitude of research into similar scenarios he'd performed (anime), pouring over dozens and dozens of accounts of similar events (erotic harem novellas), there was only one possible explanation.

He had been isekai'd.

Arriving with little more than the clothes he had been wearing when he'd gone on his late night fog-jog, he'd been told by the glowing orb responsible that it was his destiny to "Defeat the Dark One". Then, without ceremony or further explanation, it had disappeared. Typical isekai bullshit, he mused. Nobody ever got satisfying answers, especially in episode one!

His grip on the pitted and rusty iron sword was white knuckled as he swung again. This time, the slime simply glorped (?) out of the way, bending its form to create a cavern where his swipe glided through the air without making contact. Then it went back to doing slime things, totally ignoring him. These were supposed to be the easiest enemy to fight in this damn forest and they were kicking his ass!

Mark stepped back, huffing out his breath as he tried to regroup. Two weeks. Two whole weeks of being in a fantasy world and he hadn't gotten a single level up. It felt like cruel fate, or one of those monkey's paw wishes, where you get what you want but not in the way you wanted it. He'd always wanted to get sucked into a fantasy world, to be the guy with the hot monsterwives and the magical sword. But now that it had happened to him, he was stuck as his same mediocre self. And rather than a harem, all he'd gotten was sore muscles and frustration. Half the fun of these stories was becoming something else! An overlord, or a powerful warrior, or a girl! Or a girl warrior. Or a power girl overlord.

Frankly, getting stuck in a fantasy world but as an average guy was a bit of a letdown.

The only thing different about his body in comparison to how he appeared on Earth was the Implant. On the back of his left wrist, where a watch might have gone if he was a Boomer, was a strange black device. Its main body was oval shaped and smooth, like an opal, with a series of tendrils that clung to his skin, sliding beneath it without wound or seam. It looked like someone had permanently grafted a mechanical spider to his hand. How it had gotten there, he had no idea. Everyone in the village he'd visited had them too. Apparently, you got it when you reached the age of responsibility, whatever that was. His had appeared the moment he'd arrived to this world.

Its primary function was, as far as he could understand it, to enable an RPG-like stat system. Once tapped, a translucent screen the size of his old apartment's one and only window displayed a full layout of his decimalized personal attributes and inventory. The latter of those made a full accounting of the now pretty rank status of his jogging clothes, the backpack with the provisions he'd bought by trading his smartphone, and the sword he gripped in his hand. He'd found it on a skeleton on his first day, and without any currency beyond iron coins (nearly worthless) and plastic bills (less than worthless), it would be his only means of defending himself.

"Defending myself," he scoffed, turning to face the slimes. The blue and green dollops of goo had returned to doing what they were before he'd entered their zone, which was...just kinda mill around. He looked at the XP metre, at least that's what he thought it was, in the top right of his stat screen. After exploring the forest, finding the sword, discovering the local village, and trading for provisions, he'd gained less than 1/3rd of a full bar. Discussing the matter with the locals, they told him that it filled as you did new things or got better at doing something through practice. They'd also said, perhaps while chuckling at him under their breath, that the fastest way to gain points was to slay monsters. They'd pointed him to this part of the forest, where they said that fierce and terrible beasts had lurked.

Mark was about to shuffle off and see if he could find something easier to kill, maybe a rabid squirrel, when he heard a deep, but distinctly feminine, war-cry. His heart surged. Danger! But potentially reward. Fear leaked ice water down his spine as he thought about how unprepared he would be against a potential threat. But...this was an isekai! It had to be. And heroes didn't flee from danger, they charged towards it. Who knows...there might be a damsel in distress!

Marshaling his energy, he ran in the direction of the scream, which quickly devolved into a jog, then a ragged shamble. He was still desperately out of shape. He navigated around tree trunks the size of great redwoods, their vast canopies a veritable colour palette of pinks and purples that diffused most of the light from this world's sun, giving daylight the illusion of a perpetual twilight. They were the first of many Not In Kansas moments he'd had once he'd arrived. Don't have those back home.

As he closed in on what he thought was the source, he was forced to slow his pace further. Some of the colossal trees had been toppled over, others smashed into dozens of pieces that littered the densely rooted forest floor. He hopped over branches the size of drain pipes, then clambered over a half-shattered trunk that could have been used as a skateboard half-pipe should it have been smooth and hollowed out. Something enormous had made its way through the woods...something big enough to treat trees like popsicle sticks.

Mark came to a halt at the very edge of a clearing, near where a huge hunk of shattered wood leaned against a more alive member of its species. Bright light filled the scene, contrasting with the grim sight before him. A trio of red slime-beasts surrounded a woman and looked ready to consume her whole! Rather than the somewhat cute blobbies he'd been fighting before, these were pseudo humanoids the size of a draft horse, their mouths so big they reached to their navels. One had latched onto the woman as she screamed, thrashing to get away. In the process, her ragged leather top was ripped totally off! Enormous, emerald breasts bounced as she recoiled, adopting a new fighting stance with the great warhammer in her hands.

Wait, emerald skin?

He looked again. The people'd met in the village were all humans, or human-ish. This was the first truly fantastical person he'd seen! Her hair was raven black and wild, barely contained by a series of ornate braids. She was taller than him by a few inches, with muscled arms and abs straight from an MMA fight card. Two fangs on her low jaw protruded from her lips, giving her a somewhat feral appearance that was only added to by her leather skirt. He thought, with some excitement, that he'd just met his first Orc Barbarian!

"Well?" she asked, turning to him, "You just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna help me?" Her voice was something close to Scottish, and surprisingly melodic given her gruff appearance.

"O-of course!" he stammered, stumbling from the tree cover and into the clearing. He held his sword out like a defensive talisman, inching toward the closest creature and running scenarios though his head to find one where he wasn't instantly murdered.

She raised an eyebrow. "The gloomin' hell you gonna do with that toothpick?"

Mark looked down at his sword, then back at her. Her own weapon was a well used but equally well maintained piece of kit. Filigree on the sides of a swooping bird of prey had worn down over time, but it remained an impressive tool.

"It's all I got! I'm kinda new at this."

A slime swiped out with a sticky tendril, which the Orc woman gracefully dodged out of the way with a twist of her body. She snarled, retreated to her edge of the wood, and fetched a giant branch. Effortlessly tossing it through the air, it was all Mark could do to catch it without toppling over onto his ass. His sword dropped to the ground.

"Slashing and piercing does nothing to them. You must use a bludgeon!" she said, and then dived in to demonstrate. She smashed her hammer into the slime that had just attacked her, causing its membrane to deform out of the way. Just as he thought it might have been ineffective, the membrane holding it together popped, and the whole thing burst like a water balloon, showering red goo in every direction. Mark did his best to keep his focus on her superior fighting form and not her enormous breasts. God she was so pretty.

His leering was broken up by a lurching attack from the second of the slimes. It roared, goo-saliva dripping from his upper jaw onto its lower jaw, where it was reintegrated into its form. He dodged out of the way of its overhand swing of its mass, crushing the ground where he'd just been standing. He countered with a clumsy swing of the tree branch he'd been given, which bounced off the beast's membrane. But at least, for the first time, he'd attacked an enemy!

"I don't think I'm strong enough to wield this thing!" he said, dropping the branch next to the sword.

"Best think of something then," the Orc advised, "Or I'm throwing them your useless arse to distract 'em!"

He nodded, not totally believing that was a joke. But what could he do? He needed to deliver a powerful blow. An idea formed, looking back at the log leaning at the angle he'd hidden behind when he'd first spotted her. With the right gusto and timing, he had the makings of a deadfall trap!

"Lead them this way!" he shouted, running back to the forest.

"I'm not fleeing from combat!" she declared flatly, her eyes darting between him and the two remaining monsters.

"Neither am I! We can squish them with that log!" He pointed at the one he meant, and she nodded. The Orc pumped her powerful legs, easily outpacing the slime monsters, circling around them to blast past Mark. The pair of creatures followed her, slithering forward on their indistinct bodies and leaving behind a slimy trail. She made it to the log he'd pointed out first, taking position behind it and bracing her feet.

"This'd take a lotta muscle to move," she said after a quick test shove. "You up for it?"

A confirmation was out of his mouth before he had time to think about it. "Of course!" He didn't want to look like a wimp in front of this beautiful woman! Besides, guys were strong. And he was a guy! So, ipso facto, QED, he could push this titanic tree limb.

If the slimes had the slightest idea what they were planning, they didn't show it. They shuffled forward into a single line. The moment the one in the lead entered the prospective fallzone, the Orc gave the signal.

"PUSH!" she screamed, heaving her powerful arms forward. Mark did the same, though with much less juice than her. Nevertheless, the pair working together was having an effect! It rolled out of the groove it had dug when it had fallen, but caught on a knot in the wood before it could roll further. The slimes got closer...and closer, but the log refused to budge from its position.

With a roar of frustration, his new companion motioned for him to continue pushing while she went over to the side opposite the slimes, hefted up her hammer, and slammed it into the side. The shockwave blew out several chunks of bark, dislodging the log and letting momentum and gravity take it the rest of the way, squishing the slimes in one fell swoop.

"Glorious victory!" she declared, thrusting her hammer into the air.

Mark was just glad the both of them were alive. And now, that there were no threats, he could ogle this Barbarian in peace. Women were so pretty. How come he had to be stuck as a guy?

He was jostled out of his reverie by a slap on the shoulder.

"Excellent work, small one. We are triumphant! And," she looked down to the implant on his hand, which was glowing! "It looks like you've received a boon for your efforts. What is your name?"

A tingle at the back of his mind. "Mark, my name is Mark. I'm...uhh...Human." He held out a hand. The green woman grasped it, then yanked him into a hug. He tried to return it, pointedly ignoring the enormous breasts pressed into his flesh.

"Well met, Mark Human! I am Grika. Let us celebrate our victory with a glorious feast!"

***

While he gathered up firewood from the deadfall surrounding them, she'd disappeared, only to return with a large rodent that sorta looked like a wombat trussed to a spit.

"These are brongos. Good eating!" Grika insisted, then watched with bemusement as he struggled to get a fire going. He'd done it plenty of times since getting to this new world, having traded for flint as one of his provisions from the village. But having such an obviously strong and competent woman overlooking his efforts made his hands shaky and unsure of themselves. He struggled for twice as long as he previously had, but managed to finally catch some kindling alight. With some nursing, the fire was soon roaring for the both of them.

While he mothered the flame, she butchered the animal. The casual ease with which she did so was both impressive and unnerving. This stranger was clearly no novice to the outdoorsy lifestyle of a fantasy adventurer, and Mark found himself somewhat in awe of her quiet competence. As the chunks of speared meat roasted over the fire, he took a look at the Implant's interface and struggled to plan his next move.

He was tired of being the weak link, the outsider. He wanted to be powerful! Feared! Desired, even. Now at Level 2, he'd have the startings of being a true murderhobo, or at least wandering sellsword. But where would he put his efforts? He'd seen little hints that there was an extant magic system in this world, but nobody so far had shown any aptitude.

The stat menu held a bunch of different numbers, each representing a physical or mental attribute. Strength and Agility were obvious, as were Willpower and Charisma. Wits was a bit nebulous, as was Stamina. Was that his ability to exert himself for long distances, or did it represent how much damage he could take before being defeated? There were no tooltips, so he was left to his own devices to try to figure out the answer.

The skills portion of the window was a little less ambiguous. It detailed a list of his trained attributes, things he'd gotten over his life by practice. His highest skill was in Art History (Earth), which is what he had a degree in. That would be particularly useless in a world without that very history, he mused grimly, so he moved on down the list. A smattering of points in Cooking, Device Repair (Electronic), and Persuade, then a single point in Athletics, Swimming, Perception, and a dozen other things. That longer list was made of all the things he either did on a daily basis and didn't notice or hadn't done in a long time, but nevertheless retained some knowledge of.

His Level Up had given him three points to spend on stats, and five points to spend on skills. Right away he increased his Stamina and his Athletics by a point each; that run through the forest had been eye opening. Already he felt the soreness of his limbs recede, new muscles forming to give him the stamina to carry on. Beyond that, however, his path eluded him.

"Any advice on levelling?" he asked the Orc.

"Specialize. Try to do a dozen things at once and you will be beaten by warriors who can do one thing twelve times better than you."

He thanked her, but he wasn't quite sure he'd listen to that advice. Back in the day, RPG levelling could be merciless. Put all your points into one skill and it might be one that was totally useless at higher levels or if the game didn't consider it to be important beyond including it as an option. Jack of all Trades-ing might be risky, but it would mean a shallower hole to climb out of if he found out melee combat was a dead end around Level 8. Or that putting all his points into Swimming turned out to be a bad idea when the planet he was on had no lakes or oceans.

Frankly, putting points into Swimming was always a bad idea.

He tried to put all the chaos of his mind to the side and home in on what he wanted his build to be. But as he pictured the melee fighter he assumed would be a good starting point, there was another thing holding him back. Part of him knew he should be putting points into Strength, but at the thought of becoming a buff Adonis, his mind recoiled like a snake from a mongoose.

But why?

This was a brutal world. The savage slimes had shown it was not for the faint of heart. He needed the ability to defend himself! He couldn't rely on his new Orc companion forever...could he?

"Where are you off to after this?" he ventured, hopefully subtle enough.

"The slime creatures were on a bounty list. My Quest for the favour of my Goddess takes me to many strange places. This was one of them. I was expecting fierce monsters and demons...but not weak strangers. You were lucky I was here."

He gave a deep, exasperated shrug. "And I thought I was the one saving you."

She barked a laugh. "I'm sure you did! And what of you, Mark Human? Why were you out in the forest, likely to be eaten by a goo?"

"I'm from another world, one without monsters or adventure. The orb that brought me here only said I was to defeat someone named 'The Dark One'. No other specifics, no idea how to do that. And I've been struggling to even get started becoming a powerful warrior."

Grika's expression lost some of its mirth. "The Dark One is a a mighty foe. Many stories of travelers who thought they could triumph against such forces facing total obliteration, or worse, corruption. For someone with your..." her words faded as she looked for a word that didn't sound too much like weakness, "Lack of experience, that could prove challenging. But I accept that when the Gods call us to serve, they rarely give us trifling chores. They assign the big things, the legendary quests, to test and try our mettle. Either we fall, or we are forged and strengthened into weapons of their will."

For a Barbarian, she was chock full of some potent wisdom. "What about your Quest? Are you seeking to forge yourself?"

She nodded, but bit off a huge chunk of meat before elaborating. As she spoke, fat flew from her gob and sizzled in the fire. "Korath Skara, Goddess of the Fury, came to me in a dream. She bid me in the Soul Auction that I would drain the blood of my enemies to such an extent that it would fill a sea. So that is my cost. To earn her favour, and to pay my tithe, I must slay the fiercest enemies, drain their vital fluids, and become worthy of the title of Bloodquencher. And if you are on a quest to kill the Dark One, we may have common cause."

"I'm still not sure that's...I mean, I'm just an average guy from Earth! What hope do I have against a powerful evil doer like that?"

She tossed the stick with the meat into the fire and knelt beside him, putting her eyes at his level for the first time in their interaction.

"I am prepared to pledge myself to your training. To your protection. I see great potential within you, meek and small as your body may be. Would you agree to enter into such a compact?"

Mark gulped. This powerful, beautiful Orc woman was about to pledge herself to him?! Maybe...maybe there was a chance that he could have his very own adventure party harem anime after all...