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Kingdom Come 6

Homunculi Hoard

Warden Burrows had crafted his magnum opus of all creations. Born from careful cultivation and precision nurturing, his slime-based homunculus was complete. The creature had developed into a perfect specimen of adaptation. It was as creative as it was cunning and fiercely loyal to the dwarf. Bart was truly a masterpiece that weaves together engineering, alchemy, and magic. The dwarf raised his homunculus with love and care, then came the day for Bart's first royal mission.

The dwarf groaned as he laid on top of the muscular horned orc. The chieftain known as Kor was no more than a meat suit; the slime homunculus manipulated his body from inside. And boy did that slime make that muscular orc body work every inch of his thick green meat in and out of the warden's furry hole. The two had been going at it for hours, testing the warden's endurance to its limits. They moaned in unison as Bart pulled the muscular square ass all the way down onto his enormous shaft and deposited another load into the dwarf.

Normally Burrows would have stopped after four, but since it would be days, possibly weeks, before Bart would return from his mission. He knew he would miss his pet dearly, so the two made the best of their time before Bart's departure and they fucked until the sun rose. The warden held back a tear as the homunculus kissed his creator goodbye and started the long trek to the distant northern lands.

Bart had grown very accustomed to Kor's body. Inside the huge and hairy horned orc was a gelatinous goo that had seeped into every nook and cranny of the green brute's form. The orc's mind was broken, and nothing remained, but since the time he first occupied his current host, Bart had advanced magics and techniques at its disposal. The living arsenal reached the northern lands where the orc tribes resided.

A pair of ancient stone pillars, their surfaces worn smooth from centuries of wind, marked the border of the northern orc tribe's lands. Bart the slime did not fear the freezing winds and snow, nestled comfortably inside Kor. The horned orc ruled over these lands and his burly form was very accustomed to the harsh climate. He trudged forward until he came upon the encampment of the orc's clan. Crossing the fields of snow, Kor was approached by a lookout party. They all recognized the horned orc and looked in awe.

"Kor! You have returned to us," said one guard.

"Yes, I have escaped and returned. Now tell me, who has taken the title of chieftain while I was gone?"

"Grom has laid claim to the title and the council has agreed. Kor, much has changed while you've been gone," said the other guard.

"That oaf thinks he has what it takes to lead the clan? He must have bribed the council to back him and this will only start the cycles of infighting that have divided our kind for so long. Gather the warriors, tell them all that Kor has returned!" said the mighty orc. He beat his hairy chest and let out a roar, the heavens themselves shook with thunder as lighting crashed behind him. Even Kor's mastery of the elements were now at Bart's command.

The camp was abounding with commotion as they all heard the sudden storm though the skies seemed bright. Some hearts quickened in fear, others in happiness that Kor has returned. In the great bonfire in the middle of the encampment, the horned green orc roared for Grom to appear before him. The warriors all gathered around, shoving and pushing each other aside as their broad shoulders blocked the view for those in the back.

Another roar answered Kor's and Grom stepped forward to face his predecessor. Grom was an absolute brute of an orc. Kor was as tall as Grom's shoulders and just as much broader to the sides. The hulking green warrior's hairy hide bore the scars of countless battles. For anyone else to ever pick up a blade and fight for their clan, this warrior had no equal. Their meeting was bitter like the frost that bit in the winds surrounding Kor.

"I have returned to lead my people against those in the south, those who dare trespass into our realm and brazenly attack my clan!" Kor bellowed and beat his chest with a thunderous bang.

"You are no longer fit to lead. You who was captured in battle, who was taken a prisoner and denied a glorious death in battle. The council has spoken, and I am now chieftain!"

"Then I challenge you to ritual combat!"

Grom grinned and nodded. "So be it. You have been gone for a year now. Being imprisoned has no doubt made you weak. I will grant you a quick death, Kor. Now to the dark ring!"

They all roared in excitement. Ritual combat in the dark ring had not been seen in over a decade and reserved for the most serious of tribal rites. The dark ring was a small circular pit covered by a tent made of thick pelts. Inside was completely black and the combatants would fight in the darkness. Two warriors will enter and only one will walk out of the ring. They would each be given a dagger made from the fang of an enormous serpent found in ancient caves.

Soon both Kor and Grom stood in the ring. Unable to see anything, they gripped the blood-stained fangs in their hand and waited. The larger orc's pointed green ears twitched in the dark, listening for the slightest sounds that would give away his opponent's position. Even the whipping winds of the north were silent inside the tent. Grom heard the faintest crunch of dirt and spun to slash behind him. His swing deftly cut through only air.

Bart could see his opponent perfectly. The homunculus made a gesture and another illusionary sound of steps caused Grom to strike out again at nothing. The slime could sense Grom's heart beating faster. Kor was not known for being a stealthy warrior, Grom knew some of his attacks should have connected. There was another crunch of dirt and a slight huff to the ruling chieftain's left. Grom instead lunged to the right, stabbing out with the dagger and felt the tip of the blade pierce into flesh.

"You are quite skilled indeed, Grom. However, you never had a chance once you were alone with me," Kor's mouth said. The voice was that of the horned orc shaman, but the way in which he spoke sounded strange to Grom. If he could see like the slime could, the dagger had stabbed all the way through Kor's hand. However, not a drop of blood spilled. Viscus green slime sealed the wound and his grip crushed Grom's hand painfully around the dagger's hilt. Kor's other hand shot out and wrapped around Grom's throat with fingers digging right into the thick and muscular neck.

The bulkier orc tried with all his might with his free hand but could not wrench himself from Kor's grip upon his neck. It was getting hard to breathe, so he tried to punch Kor in the face. He felt his fist strike the other orc in the darkness, but nothing seemed to phase the challenger. Bart could see Grom's frustrated and confused expression in the dark. The hand around Grom's neck let go and caught his fist mid swing. The next thing surprised him, exposing an opportunity for the homunculus.

As Grom opened his mouth to gasp for air, Kor's tusks bumped against the bigger orc's as they locked lips. Something thick and slimy started to gush out and push right down the warrior's throat. Kor's pushed his opponent onto the ground and straddled his hairy chest. Bart continued to force feed his new host with a homunculus seed. Its offspring will gestate and take over the former chieftain from the inside before seeking out others to spread.

With Grom disposed of, Bart would use Kor to blend in for a few more days. Over this time, Burrow's creation would corrupt the rest of the northern orc clan. The plan had just started, but this was the first domino in a chain of increasingly larger pieces. All Bart had to do was to maintain its disguise and wait for any opportunities to catch someone alone. Bart crafted another illusion to make Grom's body appear beaten and bloody and left the tent.

Once outside, the horned orc let out a bellowing roar of victory. The council bowed and crossed their arms across their chests, displaying the traditional gesture for acknowledging the ritual is complete and Kor the winner. They quickly disassembled the tent to find Grom's body, seemingly lifeless on the ground. They lifted his body to the spirit hut where a shaman or family member prays for the warrior's spirit as it leaves the body before cremation.

Kor's return and victory became cause for a great feast. That night while the village celebrated, the spirit hut was solemnly silent. In the center of the hut was a wooden mat where the body was laid upon. The surrounding walls would be adorned with the dead's prized possessions so their spirit may take their memories with them into the afterlife. The attending shaman or family member would adorn the warrior's body with wreaths and smudges as a symbol of purification. This would not ward off the impending corruption that would soon spread rampant.

Aapa was both a fledgling shaman and Grom's nephew. Having sired no children of his own, Appa was appointed by tradition to attend to his uncle's arrangements. The young orc had his uncle to ironically thank for pushing him towards shaman studies. Grom's harsh and unbearable training left Aapa only one other honorable path. He stared at the beaten body before him. A sight that used to frighten him as a child, now just as inert as the boards Grom laid upon.

The shaman left to fetch another wreath to adorn the face as the last right of the dead. Inside Grom, the piece of Bart implanted in the hulking brute had sprouted. The slime that now resided in Grom pumped him full of various alchemical secretions, making the orcs body a more susceptible host. It grew and spread, coating every internal organ and muscles of the hulking brute. It didn't take long before it had grown enough for the next phase of the slime's plan.

As Aapa returned, the young orc dropped the wreath as he discovered his uncle's body had disappeared from the middle of the hut. Immediately, Aapa tried to run from the hut and fetch an elder. He was stopped by a heavy wall of green flesh. He looked up in horror as there was Grom, now gripping him by one arm and another enormous hand wrapped around Aapa's neck.

"Uncle?!" the shaman cried out before Grom clamped his lips over Aapa's. The larger orc's mouth easily covered the shaman's nose and mouth. Something slimy bubbled and surged out from Grom's stomach and splashed against Aapa's face. The pressure started to force the goop past the shaman's lips.

Aapa struggled in vain against the much stronger orc's grip. Something bitter filled his mouth and he was forced to swallow the goo that continued to pour out of Grom. The taste faded and a wave of warmth and numbness began to spread to all of Aapa's limbs. His body had become limp, held up by the larger orc as the last few bits of slime slid past his tongue. The shaman passed out and Grom let his body slump against the ground. Now there was another to help spread the homunculus to the rest of the tribe...

With Kor's victory verified by the council, tradition called for a grand feast. All cheered for the return of their shaman chieftain and began to build a great fire in the center of their encampment. Soon they would roast slabs of meat from their recent hunts and beat on their drums and chest in song. A grand celebration that would make a bittersweet end to their life as nomadic warriors.

It was late into the night and Kor had singlehandedly out drank every other green skin except one. Bogun was a hefty sized orc. One of the tribe's council members and the best cook out of all the northern orcs. His heavy yet muscular belly reflected his enormous appetite for food and fight. Of course, those were not the only two things this husky orc hungered for.

"Kor, I cannot express in words how glad I am to see your safe return. However, I could perhaps show you?" said Bogun as he downed another drink while his other hand ran along Kor's hairy chest.

The horned orc chuckled and nodded. The two took a barrel of brew with them to the chieftain's tent. Once inside, Bogun's voracious tastes made themselves known. He began to strip Kor of his clothes while his chief kissed him deeply. Their tongues mashed against one another as the warriors' explored each other's green hides. Bart decided that this orc's body could house and produce enough of its special slime to take over the entire tribe in a day.

With such a fortunate opportunity, Bart mixed a special secretion into Kor's spit. Bogun drank it down while sucking upon Kor's tongue. Mixed with the sheer amount of alcohol Bo had already consumed, his buzz seemed to explode tenfold. The room began to spin around in jagged circles as Kor laid the heavyset orc upon his back. The chieftain's mighty rod was throbbing between Bo's smooth buns. Kor leaned over his gut while pressing the tip of his uncut meat right against his hot pucker.

Bogun looked up at the bearded orc as he mounted the council member. Kor let out a moan as he began to press into Bo. Something gurgled from the chieftain's throat and a soft glow started to spill out with a huge glob of slime. Bart pushed the beholder's eye out of Kor's mouth. Its powerful gaze struck the drugged orc, causing his jaw to go slack and his eyes became trapped against the mesmerizing glow. His thoughts were dominated by the homunculus and new orders were being etched into his subconscious.

Kor's head kept still while the rest of his body rocked and humped against the plump orc beneath him. His entire length pushed easily into Bo's relaxed tunnel. Buried deep and aided by Bart's slime leaking from Kor's tip, the slime started to pump him full of its spawn. Several round gel capsules spilled out of the chieftain's cock. They pushed in with ample amounts of thinner and slick slime deep into Bo's guts. It would take a couple of hours to fill the husky orc full.

Bart used this time to direct Bogun to infect all of the tribe's barrels with the slime's seeds. Without realizing it, the council member in charge of the tribe's food would jerk off in the store houses, spilling Bart's offspring to all those who do consume them. Kor finished pumping the last of Bart's load into Bo as the slime completed programming its new assistant. Bogun would wake up the next morning, unable to remember the wild night and left only with the fact that he was naked in the chief's bed with something slimy running out of his loose ass.

In the matter of a few days, the slime homunculus had spread its influence to every orc in the tribe. The northern orc clans were no more. The green brutes were now a hoard of puppets all controlled by their slime overlord. Dominated by a mix of powerful alchemical drugs and mental enchantments, the former warriors now only lived to obey Bart and his creator. With his hoard in tow, Bart journeyed home. Some of the rural farmers reported to see a line of orcs marching in the dead of night south towards the kingdom proper.

Warden Burrows' found his new farmhands made excellent assistance with the various 'needs' around the Farm. After business hours, the dwarf very much enjoyed his new harem of green skin men. However, he would always fall asleep only with Bart. Using his new labor force, they build a bedchamber that could fit all the farmhands as well. It was also a good time to have some sound dampening materials installed as to not keep the rest of the kingdom up late a night...