Transformation Story: Scarlet to Green

 Though largely featuring different characters, this is a sequel to ‘Bucking Convention’

Scarlet to Green

Larysa finally managed to manoeuvre the key into the padlock; opened it and removed it from the hasp. She then fitted the standard house key into the lock below. In moments, the door to the place was open.

‘Great. You go in,’ Tejal said.

Morag – though she had started to style herself “Morgana” - nodded her encouragement. Due to her size, Larysa tended to be sent in first, almost as if she could act as a shield against whatever spectres might rush out. After some close encounters out at Cramond, Larysa had overcome her initial fears and now felt she could deal with whatever the supernatural could throw at her. Cautiously but without fear, she walked through.

Larysa had only fallen into this work by accident after spotting Morag’s advertisement on an online buy-and-sell noticeboard. Having studied chemistry, she had found that, while it was still interesting, none of the connected jobs wanted seemed to want her. Her “taster” of being a school teacher had been an utter failure, so now she was a ghost hunter. Edinburgh had so many levels; so many old, even ancient, buildings and a great deal of tragedy that she guessed she should have realised there would be work enough in the city; even more if you counted in the surrounding towns.

TSL as it was now known had been started by Morag’s great-grandmother as “The White Ladies” referencing one of the typical kind of ghosts they might see, as well as emphasising it was a female firm. It then altered in the more PC nineties to “The Scarlet Ladies” before the more recent “corporate makeover” to TSL.

There was a patch on the black paint of the door which suggested a panel had been removed.

‘What did you say this place was?’ Larysa called back to Morag as she pulled her torch from her belt.

‘I told you in the van: it was last used by a company called OLC. They rented it a few months back. Neighbours of this place have reported strange noises.’

‘Neighbours?’ Larysa asked.

Down one of Edinburgh’s creepy sets of stone steps, she could not work out who might be neighbours to this place. Stepping back to the front door and looking up she guessed this might be the back wall of a building facing the other way.

‘And that was after this OLC lot had left?’

‘I imagine so. The company …’

‘Theta Commercial Property,’ Tejal supplied.

‘Anyway, they want us – they are paying us - to check it out.’

‘Prospective tenants have been put off and Edinburgh’s got enough ghost tours, apparently,’ Tejal added wryly.

One of them, of course, was run by TSL themselves and some months it brought in more cash than the main business.

‘You know if we do this well, we’ll be putting ourselves out of business.’ Larysa said, not for the first time.

‘My grandma’s ma started this company and there has been enough work down the years for it not to ever go bust,’ Morag emphasised. ‘Now that all three of us can drive the van, we can go further afield. I am sure Stirling and Perth have got ghosts.’

Larysa picked up her heavy equipment bag and carried it into the building. She did not go far before putting it down and running her torch over the first room. She picked up a sign set neatly near the door emblazoned with “OLC”.

‘Was this place used during the Festival?’ she asked her colleagues.

Especially for Fringe events, it seemed that any corner going would be rented out to an obscure performer.

‘Not that I know of. As I said, it’s been empty for a few months,’ Morag explained.

The door to the next larger room stood open and Larysa continued, with the other two now following up. As with the entrance hall, it was dusty in here. There were a couple of long tables with chairs behind them. Abruptly came the sound and flicker of neon strip lights coming on.

Tejal stood next to a bank of switches said, ‘The Theta guys had said they keep the electricity connected, it is easier for showing people who might rent it, around.’

‘Sure,’ Larysa responded.

However, she could not make out any disturbance to the dust so wondered how long back suspicions about this place had begun to put off prospective tenants.

‘These look cool,’ Morag said.

She was over at the wall where there were a row of pegs from which hung four helmets which at first Larysa took to be cycle helmets. However, as Morag dusted one off and put it on, she saw it was more like a VR helmet. She wondered who had left these behind. She guessed they must not be working, otherwise they would presumably still be worth something.

Morag made a guttural sound that Larysa could not make out.

‘What’s that?’

Morag spoke again and something like a strange, perhaps even alien voice came from her.

‘No, it must be doing something to your voice.’

Morag removed the helmet. ‘What were you saying? With that thing on it all sounded weird; high pitched and just, I don’t know, gobbledygook.’

‘You sounded like an alien,’ Tejal noted, chuckling.

‘Was this some kind of laser quest place where one team got to be aliens? Is it something left over from then that the people upstairs are hearing?’ Larysa suggested.

Of course for every case they got which had actual supernatural activity, there was another four or five that turned out to have very mundane explanations, often rats, cats or foxes; nesting birds; some bit of wood or metal banging in the wind or stretching and contracting in the heat. Water flowing through somewhere was another cause. Sometimes it was even just echoes from roads or railway tracks or actually from other buildings entirely, bouncing around in weird ways.

Idly Larysa walked over to the helmets and took one for herself. She slipped it on over her head and tightened the strap. As buds nestled into her ears, she hoped that someone had cleaned this before hanging it up. Noise from outside then actually sounded clear and the light seemed altered by the visor, not to be darker but brighter, almost as if Mediterranean sunshine had come to Edinburgh. Then a sharp voice came to Larysa and she realised that Morag was speaking but she could not make out the words.

‘… there you are. Can you understand me?’

Larysa laughed. ‘Yes, it’s all clear in English.’

‘I thought that might be the case when I heard you come out in that gruff alien voice. Well aren’t these cool? They must run on batteries.’

‘And they haven’t run down. I am surprised Theta didn’t take them out or these OLC people.’

‘I guess they had to get out in a hurry or someone else packed it up for them, didn’t see half the stuff hanging up.’

Now Tejal’s voice came from behind them. It was sharper than her usual tone and quickly Larysa realised she could not make out any of the smaller woman’s words. Something made her think them weak; made her even get riled by them as if she had to shut the woman up. That made her pull off the helmet.

‘Tejal, you’ve got to try these, it’s some kind of mad translator.’

‘I know, you sounded like … I don’t know aliens or trolls, you know from a movie or something, not online ones.’

‘I get you. Do you want to have a try?’

Tejal shook her head playfully. ‘No, thanks. You don’t know where they might have been. It looks like you smeared something on your face.’

Larysa rubbed where Tejal pointed.

‘It looks green and what’s that on your hair? It’s kind of purple.’

Larysa knew she should have been more careful. It was all too easy to get paint or chemicals on their clothing from rooting around these places. While Tejal had been keen that they got matching boiler suits, they had ended up sticking to old, baggy clothes. Then Larysa imagined the colours had come from make-up or something, taking her back to the thought this place had been for some performance or maybe it was all part of the look for the aliens the customers were to hunt with their laser guns. That made sense. If the employees had a voice modifier it was no use if they then did not understand each other. It did seem odd then that this OLC company had forgotten this kit, but you never could tell. Maybe they had shifted on to another town at short notice or there was some falling out among those who ran the company.

‘Right, I’ll get the base camp set up here,’ Tejal declared, dusting off a chair and pulling it right up to one of the tables.

Rather than press on into the building, Larysa and Morag helped set up. Soon they had the main monitors connected to their head cams; the stick-up cams to put through the place as they progressed and the trusty EMF detectors, all running. The bright neon lighting gave it all a different atmosphere from many places they were sent to. Larysa guessed that it would be only if the power cut out that things would begin to feel haunted. She and Morag walked on to the far end of the room where there were rows of lockers. They were all unlocked and a quick check showed they were empty.

Now Larysa, with Morag behind, almost using her friend as a shield opened the door through a partitioned wall that had divided up this reasonably large space. Beyond were two other doors. Morag walked straight on under an archway to reach one door, whereas Larysa went to a smaller door to the right. Fortunately none of these doors was locked. Larysa was soon what looked like a changing room with a large wardrobe fitted with a couple of long mirrors. This added to her sense that this had been some performance space. Again, though, she was surprised to find items abandoned in the large metal wardrobe. There was a rail of clothes inside which felt to be real leather.

‘What have you got there?’ Tejal asked in Larysa’s earpiece.

‘A whole range of costumes. These look expensive. Look.’

She lifted down a kind of breastplate made of hard leather. It had the typical breast cups beloved of fantasy art. There were other similar items: big corset belts, thick leggings, bracers, pauldrons, greaves and long, heavy boots. One of her housemates a couple of years back had dressed up like this. He, though, was usually a wizard rather than a warrior but she had seen shots of those people he went out gaming with kitted out in stuff of this kind. The breastplates in particular suggested they were for women, or at least, female characters. Just the smallest would fit Larysa and she was larger than the average Scot.

‘I think we’re going to need to give Theta an inventory of this stuff; we can bill them for that if we don’t find anything else.’

‘Right.’

Leaving the clothing, Larysa began to wonder if given all that had been left behind, what was causing the noises was something connected to the performance or game or whatever had happened here. One of those helmets, still charged up, it was clear, may have got triggered by something outside. It would not be the first time that a taxi radio, a car remote or even a mobile phone signal had operated something beyond what it was intended for. Morag had said the remote-control car of her nephew would start off whenever the neighbour opened their electric garage door.

‘’Rysa, come see this,’ Morag called.

‘On my way.’

Now Larysa went in search of Morag. She passed under the arch and on the other side had a sense that something had not precisely dripped on her, more like she had walked through a spray. Remembering her earlier concern about chemicals, she was rather worried to see that her skin now had a shininess to it. Did it have a green tinge? She tried to rub at whatever had come down on her, but it did not seem to come off.

Larysa stood for a few moments but there was no burning sensation, not even an itch, so she guessed she was alright, she would just have to make sure she had a decent shower when she got home. Even that was quite a common need after tramping around dusty old buildings. She now stepped into a much large room. For a moment it was almost as if it juddered; madly as if there was a brighter, more opulent version of this room being overlaid on it. She blinked and then looked to the far end of the room and realised why Morag had been so impressed.

Up a short flight of broad steps was a large gateway. It looked to be genuinely of stone, but as she walked towards it, Larysa guessed it was probably cast in some kind of plastic or resin. Intricate designs had been carved or moulded on the solid pillars and lintel. There seemed to be various humanoids in armour, fighting. As she looked closer, though, some seemed to be copulating. The gateway was closed by two vertical slabs of this stone material. Where they met, the carving on them formed a circle with a large hand shape scooped from the slabs. This was where Morag stood, pressing her hand. As Larysa approached, she turned and grinned.

‘Cool, eh?’

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know. What were we saying before? This has to be some set up for a play or maybe even a band. I don’t know, but these performers, especially at the Fringe, try all sorts; getting people right into the performance, don’t they?’

Larysa knew that it was the case. The more she saw of this place, the more that explanation seemed to fit. The only real mystery was how come so much stuff got left behind. A lot of productions did not break even but maybe that provided the explanation: the production company or just the bunch of people running this thing, had ended up with insufficient money to get it freighted out.

‘You need a bigger hand,’ Larysa said to Morag.

‘Yes … but I really felt … felt I needed to put my hand in here.’

To Larysa that sounded like something a bit more in the TSL department. She waved her EMF monitor at the gateway.

‘Not seen that kind of pattern before,’ Tejal called through their ear pieces.

Their headcams were kitted out with a range of small detectors that fed back to the “base camp” directly. In contrast the EMFs were useful for warning of anything hostile they might be about to run into, typically the time when the link back to Tejal might break. Morag pulled her hand back from the carving. To Larysa it looked to have an even stronger green tinge than her own.

‘Feel it,’ Morag insisted.

Rather than go to the carving in the centre, Larysa simply pressed her fingers to the nearest part of stone slab. It did feel warm and almost as if there was something pulsing behind there.

‘You feel it?’

‘Yep. Well, this does not seem like a total flop. Something is going on behind there.’

‘And can you see the light?’

Larysa came over to stand by her colleague and looked to where the two stone slabs met was the glint of a long line of bright green light.

‘I guess they left it running when these OLC guys abandoned this place.’

‘It can’t be using much electricity or Theta would have noticed.’

‘Probably just a narrow LED light strip.’

‘But the warmth and what Tejal’s saying she’s getting?’

Larysa had no real response to that. ‘So … well, there’s no activity here now, but that maybe because we’re here.’

‘Sounds likely. Let’s put up some stick-up cameras; sound-activated recorder; link through to the phone,’ they kept one especially for receiving input from the ghost-hunting devices, ‘and see what it all picks up.’

In the next thirty minutes this was what the three women did, just as they had done at a range of locations in and around Edinburgh. Tejal’s readings showed a constant source of energy focused on the gateway. That contrasted with the ebbing and flowing that would normally be expected with supernatural activity. Added to that the temperature by the gateway was raised, rather than being cold as would be expected if spirits or energies of that kind were present. Morag locked up this time and the trio trekked back to their van.

Walking away, despite inconclusive results, Larysa found herself thinking back to the place. She kept seeing the gateway in her mind’s eye and wondering what happened when it opened. Strangely she also found herself thinking about the over-sized leather clothes and what they would be like to wear. All of those things, the strange helmets too, appeared to go together in a way that Larysa could not explain, but had caught her interest. In contrast to what was usually the case when they drove away from a site, none of the three women spoke and Larysa had a sense that the place had snared all their thoughts much more than might be expected from a small dusty, abandoned performance venue.

****

Larysa staggered, but then realised that it was not for real; this was a dream. Given what she saw on her day job she had counted herself lucky not to be troubled by vivid images while she slept. That did not mean such dreams never came. This one she saw quickly, was not set anywhere she had been. The light was somehow all wrong and she saw that around her, buildings, some metres away, were built of wood or an orangey stone, not the dark shades of Edinburgh. She was in a town, perhaps even a city and maybe a medieval one in Spain or the Middle East; perhaps it was Roman. However, then her mind told her this was even less practical than time travel.

Looking across the plaza she was stood on Larysa could see that the citizens of this place were humanoid but their colours were not like those of any human. Many, whether large muscular ones with tusks emerging from their lower jaws, or smaller ones scurrying around, were a bright green; some were shades of blue or almost had metallic hues. Others looking like minotaurs and bear- and cat-people mixed with them. Larysa wondered why she did not react more to what she saw. She guessed she had to commend her mind for producing such a rich picture even if it was derivative. Then she realised she could even smell this place: a rich mix of dung, sweat, stagnant water and cooking food.

Larysa realised she was stood at the top of a small flight of steps and glancing back she saw a gateway like the one in the disused performance space she had seen earlier in the day. This one, however, was open and between the pillars swirled a green light. While not a gamer herself, such things were familiar from memes and art work drawing from fantasy computer games she saw advertised online. She had already guessed that had been the kind of thing whoever built the set at the disused venue had been aiming for. It was clear her mind had simply picked up on the references and run with them. Two of the smaller green humanoids hurried up the stairs and plunged into the green light. In an instant they were gone.

For a moment Larysa thought to go through the gateway, but then felt that if her mind had done all of this work, she might as well explore it. Coming down the steps, Larysa did not consider why no-one was paying her any particular attention. As she stepped on, though, she, felt so much larger, maybe a thirty or forty centimetres taller than she was in reality. She raised her muscled arm to see it was now a bright green shade. No wonder no-one here saw anything exceptional in her. Perhaps it was no surprise that it appeared like the green sheen she had got from when she had first walked beneath the arch, but now it was so much deeper; looked to be her genuine skin tone, rather than any make-up. In a dream, she guessed there were no rules. Looking down at her thighs in their tight leather leggings; her arms emerging from the heavy jerkin, she could make out muscles like steel cabling. She turned over hands to study how her forearm muscles rippled, pressed hard against the leather bracers.

Larysa certainly knew now that she was seeing herself in the guise of a common fantasy creature, an orc. Not one of those gunmetal grey ones of some movies, but the big green ones of various games. She guessed that seeing the outfits; hearing how the helmet had given her a gruff voice, then that green spray on her skin could feed these ideas into her dreams. If she got this from just rooting around in the place once it had been abandoned, she could only wonder what the impact had been on people who had visited the actual show. Maybe that was the reason it had closed.

It was probably not a good thing to have people stumbling around the streets of Edinburgh thinking they were still in Priomh. Where had that name come from? For a moment she assumed her mind had just conjured it up to fill in the gap but as she walked on, not really fussed where she was heading, Larysa felt certain it was the genuine name of this place. Had she seen it written on something in the venue? Had a friend or someone online mentioned it? Ewan, the bassist in ‘Bathory’ the band that Larysa drummed for, had been into this kind of game, she was sure, so had it come from something he had said?

Larysa walked on, passing through the exotic people now as if she was just going down Princes Street, perhaps during the Festival, but nothing more peculiar than that. At a junction, rather that head down a spiralling route, she went upwards towards what looked to be the walls of this place. Of course, dreams, even as vivid ones as this did not have to have a logic. Still Larysa felt an urge to go in a particular direction. Soon she was in a quieter district and high enough up both to see the orange and purple sky among the smoke coming from numerous cooking fires and forges and also out across the city. Yet a urge made her press on and she realised she was now passing the gates of fortified houses. It recalled something she had read about samurai houses in what had later become Tokyo. Every clan had maintained a place like a small fort and it looked like the orcs here did the same.

Drawing up at the gates of a particularly large house, she saw that it a flew green and purple banner from the top of its multi-levelled round tower. Three characters were on the banner in orcish script but Larysa understood they equated to O, L and C and that reinforced the sense that this dream had all been triggered by the remnants they had found at the venue. As she stood before the wooden gates, a panel slid back and an male orc’s face emerged.

‘Lar-sa?’

‘I guess so,’ Larysa said casually though to her ears it sounded as if she was speaking in a gruff guttural language.

‘You were expected … Falta-sra advised us you and a Morga were coming. Is she with you?’

Larysa smiled to think that her mind had drawn Morag - or Morga, probably an orcish name - into all this. She would have to check whether her friend had had a similar dream. After all, she had gone in first into the big room at the venue and right up to the gateway which so resembled the one Larysa had seen here. The watchorc opened one of the gates and ushered Larysa into a crude courtyard. There were stables along one side but she quickly saw they held huge wolves rather than horses. Larysa found a real desire to be mounted up on them riding across the plains she knew lay beyond Priomh.

The orc at the gate shouted for some servant and smaller green creature, Larysa now understood to be a goblin, came to lead her on into the main building.

‘Sharngor is expecting you,’ the goblin explained.

‘I feel privileged,’ Larysa joked.

‘We didn’t think there would be more new orc females for the clan … for a while at least. Falta-sra apparently said something about it looking suspicious, but you, Lar-sa, you come from somewhere different? But I would not have known you had ever been anything other than an orc.’

Larysa did not know what to say. She guessed it was just her mind conjuring up some feasible story about the venue and why it was abandoned. Still it was clearly all fantasy. People did disappear in Edinburgh as in any city, but if they had been being shipped off to another world to become orc females, she was sure someone, even if just among the conspiracy theorist community, would have caught on to it. Larysa stopped herself. No matter how real this all felt; all smelt, she had to remind herself this was a dream.

‘Grisbon is saying too much; powerful orc mistress, please accept my apologies.’

‘It is nothing,’ Larysa said.

The goblin gave a gracious bow to that. Then Larysa wondered if he was speaking Orcish or she was speaking whatever goblins spoke or if there was some other language entirely, they were using. She backed away from such a thought knowing from past experience that if the “logic” of her dream was revealed to be false, then she would wake up. While this might be the weirdest, most vivid dream she had ever had, Larysa was in no rush to leave it just yet.

Soon they were at the top of this broad tower and Grisbon opened the door into what was clearly a bedroom. It was decorated in a rough style she guessed was orc décor. A huge rug of some alien creature’s pelt dominated the floor. Flames flickered from a fire bowl in the corner. At the far end of the room was a low but orc-sized bed and as she entered a naked male orc tossed back the animal skin blanket and rose from it. He took a few steps towards Larysa but stopped half the room away from her. As he stood there his large, fat cock steadily rose and Larysa found she could not take her eyes off it.

‘I can see the need in you Lar-sa. You need to feel heavy orc cock deep inside, don’t you?’

Larysa felt that even if this was a dream, she should not have this man – this male – talk to her that way. How did he know what she wanted; needed?

However, instead of protesting, Larysa found herself saying ‘Yes, I am needy …’.

She was about to protest that it ran counter to her thoughts, but then she realised that actually there was a real hunger in her. It grew out from her pussy that was steadily demanding to be filled by just the kind of orc cock that was on offer. Then the aroma from her own sex; from the male, came to her and she felt heady. Somehow, she knew she was in heat just the way an orc female would be.

‘That is it. You can feel it, can’t you? You’re an orc on heat. Give into what your body needs and you will truly belong here on Saoghal; truly join your people. Orc females have big appetites in everything they yearn for.’

Larysa did not respond. Part of her felt that if she agreed with Sharngor there would be no turning back. This was a dream, she tried to keep reminding herself, but something about how real it felt made her steadily believe that it was something more. What commitments she made here might be for real. While her mind chased after what she wanted, Larysa began to strip away the leather armour.

Almost without noticing she was down to the leather bra and panties. One hand teased out a dark green nipple from its cup and played with it. The other slipped beneath her panties to where her purple hair was already matted with juice and with her thumb toyed her chunky clit which was almost as large.

Larysa shuddered at the pleasure. Yet somehow this did little to suppress her need.

‘I am needy,’ she repeated.

‘I know, but what do you need? If you tell me then I will give it to you.’

Larysa was fighting a losing battle against her growing orc instincts. She did not know that once the aromas had come to her, her body took over control from her mind. She reached to unlace her bra and then let it drop to the floor. She looked down over her ample green-skinned bust, her nipples so erect. Then she shed her panties and kicked them away. She walked forward slowly and Sharngor scrambled back to sit resting on the large pillows. Larysa knew it was so easy for her to have this orc in her and then, that at this moment, she wanted nothing else.

****

It took some moments for Larysa to realise where she was. She was certainly no longer in Priomh on Saoghal. Instead she was on the sofa in the shared living room of her place in Edinburgh. Immediately she was self-conscious as she realised her jeans had been pushed down and her right hand was beneath her panties; sticky from where it had been playing. She quickly stood up and readjusted her clothing; glad that her phone had woken her before any of her flatmates had come in.

While the alarm was set so that she had more than enough time to get ready for the gig, Larysa found she was on edge and hurried to shower and then get into the long brocade and mesh dress that she wore to play. It was sleeveless and split most of the way up the skirt so did not inhibit her using the sticks or the foot pedals. Still it had the wild Gothic tone which fitted with the style that the lead singer, Lennox, had decided was right for ‘Bathory’.

While not really a Goth herself, Larysa was content to put on black lipstick and back-comb her dark hair to fit in, happy to be in a band that took a female drummer seriously. Saying that, she was sure that if it had not been for the kudos that being a ghost-hunter had brought she might not have got an audition with them in the first place. They never made huge sums from their gigs, but it contributed a little to her income on top of the ghost tours and the main work she did hunting with TSL. It took a little over an hour for Larysa to shower, do her hair, put on the outfit and perfect her make-up. Today she decided to go for that emerald green on her eyelids.

Finishing it all off, Larysa chuckled to herself, ‘Keep the bed warm, Sharngor, your Lar-sa will soon be back to finish what we started.’

For a moment she wondered if it was wrong being turned on imagining such fantasy sex. Then again, Larysa reminded herself there were more than enough movies with people getting it on with mermaids or aliens. It was all inside her own head, so it was doing no-one any harm, she told herself. Maybe an orc was the kind of lover she needed; could give her what she was not finding on Earth, she chuckled.

Larysa’s sex life was rather erratic. There were times when she picked up one of the rare single Goth men in a pub, though they tended to be very much in adoration mode at her supposed greatness, rather than being a sexual equal. It was good enough but hardly brilliant. Lennox was actually married and Ailsa was a woman much of a kind with Larysa. As for Ewan, his tastes were exclusively for East Asian women students, especially those from Japan.

As Larysa made her way to Bannerman’s Bar where ‘Bathory’ were playing tonight, she was grateful that the band was now sufficiently successful to be able to afford a roadie with a van. Ewan and Lennox, if they had to, could travel on the bus with their guitars, even if the amps had to be brought some other way. However, that had never been an option for her. Now they employed Mateo who worked for a number of local bands but which meant he came with his own storage space and van. With a reputation to keep, he was always punctual and if not particularly friendly, then professional about his work.

Soon Larysa was down the cobbled street leading to the venue. Big brown stones clad the lower floor and above was that mix of grey and tan blocks that characterised so many buildings in this city. Sitting in an old street like this, Larysa was reminded of the place she and the TSL ladies had checked out last night. How far was it from here? It did not matter; she pressed on. Having played here more than once, she did not have to go through the rigmarole of making it clear that she was not simply with the band but in the band. Soon she was inside.

Mateo was almost complete with the set-up just the way Larysa liked it, then she was working with Chilton who handled their mics and sound levels. That all done, Larysa chatted with Ailsa who looked stunning in high-soled boots and a new purple silk corset. She said nice things about what Larysa had done with her hair and make-up, though she felt they were nothing exceptional to what Ailsa had seen on her before. Then Larysa was supping her first pint of IPA and looking forward to a good performance.

Soon the venue was filling. Tejal dressed in a green leather jacket and matching vinyl miniskirt was there with a woman Larysa did not recognise and whose name she did not catch over the growing noise of the customers. Then the time came and Larysa got behind the drums. She stretched and warmed up and then Lennox and Ewan were there. Lennox looked back to give the signal and Larysa went into the intro to ‘Black Hole Street’. From then on, she was sort of lifted out of all time and space to somewhere that the music was dominant.

****

Rather than closing with ‘The Killing Moon’ as usual, Lennox had listed another cover, ‘Bring Me to Life’. It required female vocals and it seemed like Ailsa had been practicing with her husbad outside usual rehearsals. As a band, they had only gone through it a couple of times and to drum along appropriately, Larysa had to draw as much on her memory of the original as on anything they had worked on. She felt it lacked the force that it needed to come off properly and really would require another guitarist. Anyway, no matter her criticisms, the audience seemed to like it.

Ailsa and Lennox head-to-head at the front did look cool and Larysa indulged in dreams of finding a drummer she could drum alongside. Then she let out a long deep laugh as she recalled that the best offer that she had had that evening, had been from a naked orc lord on a planet far, far away.

Then it was all over. Larysa visited the ladies but then got another beer before helping Mateo dismantle her drum kit and shift it to the van. Larysa always found herself wired after a gig and even with the beer it took some time to wind down, so putting her energy into something useful seemed sensible. Where Lennox and the others had got to, she could not see and even Tejal appeared to have left. Morag usually came to all the ‘Bathory’ gigs, in full Morgana glory. Not seeing her, Larysa wondered what might have come up and hoped it was something good rather than a mishap.

Finally after another beer, Larysa felt herself calming. She collected the long faux leather coat which was her prime item of Goth wear and headed out. She always liked to be away before the buzz from the gig had faded entirely and she was left in the quietness of a pub winding down. She set off briskly, not really clear of the direction she should go and then after a while began to think it was probably best to find a taxi. She always liked to be able to see the driver before he or she arrived so tended to eschew hailing apps. Realising she was not that far from the station Larysa headed down one of the city’s numerous flight of steps. She guessed if she had been sober and not so hyped from the performance, she might have been more cautious about where she was wandering.

Then Larysa realised she had come down the same flight of steps she had been with her colleagues the previous evening. There was the entrance to the venue they had checked out. In the weak urban light, it looked as if it was ajar. Surely Morag had locked it tight when they had left? She guessed someone might have broken in looking for something to steal to sell or simply a place off the streets to sleep. She switched on the torch on her phone and it quickly became clear the padlocks had been unlocked, not broken. Had Morag come back here to check something? It was not typical for any of them to come to a site alone, but presumably she had known both Tejal and herself would be at the gig so maybe had not bothered them. With her phone blazing, tentatively, Larysa opened the door and went inside.

‘Morag?’ Larysa called.

The lights were not on but there was a greenish brightness that seemed to come from deeper into the building. Larysa walked on slowly then stopped to phone Morag. She heard her friend’s familiar ring tone sound out from inside this place. She walked towards the sound a little worried as it went to voicemail that Morag had had an accident. Calling again she located the sound as emerging from the room that held all the costumes. Switching the light on, she saw a pile of clothes that might easily have been Morag’s and it was clear that she had taken some of the leather items from the wardrobe.

Had Morag had the same kind of dream as herself? Had she then felt a compulsion to come here and play around at being an orc? Buoyed by the beer, Larysa could see some fun in doing that. Elements of her dream now came back to her and she realised that she had missed out on the orgasm it seemed her body had been building towards. She phoned Morag’s number again and it rung from amidst the pile of clothes. Larysa pulled it from the pocket of her jeans but neither had the passcode nor the face to unlock it.

‘Morag?’ Larysa called out loud.

However, as she put down the phone, unless Morag had gone out into the streets of Edinburgh dressed up in orc garb, it seemed there was only one room where she might be. Stepping along the corridor towards it, Larysa wondered at how she had got distracted from seeing what was giving off the green light. It was more intense as she reached the large room. There was also an earthy rich aroma here, that in some ways was strange, but in part familiar.

‘Wow!’

For a moment Larysa thought she was hallucinating, then guessed it had to be that somehow Morag had switched on the light show which had formed part of the performance. Unsettlingly to Larysa, she now recognised it as the portal from her dream. Tentatively she walked towards it, almost entranced by the swirling green light but with a growing conviction that if she stepped up to the light; through it, she would find herself in the city she had dreamt of. Priomh – the name came back to her so easily as if it was a Scottish town rather than somewhere in a fantasy world.

As she walked closer to the steps, Larysa felt steadily uncomfortable as if she was having difficulty breathing; her lower jaw ached too. She stepped back and rubbed her face. It felt slick and she worried that she had drunk too much; was coming down with something. She remember the liquid from before which had almost lightly “glazed” her. Her skin looked even greener now; with a shudder she realised it was closer to that orc green shade she had seen in the dream on herself and her … Sharngor. The name came to her as well as if he was someone she knew from the bar. There was a quiver of pleasure as she recalled what he had been like; what they had been about to do.

Larysa shed her coat which proved to be harder than she had expected. It looked to stick as she pulled it clear of her arms, as if it had shrunk on her. Below, her dress felt to be cutting into her shoulders and was pulled tight across her bust. As she sought to undo it, the material tore and fell away from her top. Now there was discomfort all around and it felt as if something was erupting from her jaw. Her bra broke at the clasp and she pulled it off and tossed it aside almost contemptuously.

The dress disintegrated as her hips grew and the material broke through where it came to her waist. Stepping clear on broad, strong legs, Larysa felt the restraint of her feet reach a peak and then be released as her laced boots reached their limit and simply burst apart. The green, dark-nailed feet they revealed quickly grew to many sizes larger. It did not need Larysa to look down at her coarse, purple pubic hair, cup her ample green breasts with pine dark nipples, let alone run her chunky fingers along the tusks which emerged from her mouth, to confirm that she was now an orc.

As the changes ceased, Larysa stood, catching her breath now into larger lungs. She reached to take her hair that was much longer and coarser before and entirely purple; to put it into a fish braid for practicality. Then she realised just how she smelled. It was akin to the scent she had picked up earlier and that provided the final piece to allow her to understand Morag’s story. She had been changed, perhaps faster than had happened to Larysa, but still she had been altered to look; to smell like an orc female. Then, of course, her orc hand had fitted into the carving in the two panels and that was sufficient to unlock them. With the gateway open, Morag – Morga – had gone through to the only place where those of her kind belonged: Priomh.

It was all impossible. There were not gateways to other worlds beneath Edinburgh. It was impossible too that Larysa could morph into a female of another world, yet every second her orc heart beat and she breathed in with orc lungs, Larysa – Lar-sa, knew it was true. Such a situation went some way, surely, to explain why this place had been abandoned. Had someone triggered this connection by accident and ended up being changed and drawn through it? Were men as well as women affected?

Or had something else happened – had it been opened from the other side and people taken; shepherded through it? Were these games not about some imaginary world but based on a real world? Saoghal – that was the name of the place. She wished she knew more about the online games that were popular. Then again, perhaps it was called Tamriel, Ivalice, Lordran, Azeroth – names she had heard mentioned eagerly in passing. She doubted it would be Narnia, but maybe Middle Earth was somewhere real. No, that was not right, there orcs were grey, not this wonderful green that she possessed.

Had orcs from Saoghal come through to gather recruits – make recruits – from among humans here? As if she was recovering lost memories Lar-sa recalled there was a need for orcs; orc females in particular and humans apparently made suitable “raw material”; they were unevolved orcs, surely, because they lacked their strength and prowess. Yet, with the right magics, they could be brought the necessary steps to orchood.

Someone had used this place to make more orcs. They had moved on, but had not shut it down sufficiently to stop curious ghost hunters starting it up again. Larysa – she kept clinging to that name – realised the helmets had been magic, not electric; tutoring newcomers to hear and speak Orcish. That spray triggered when anyone passed under the arch would begin the changes to their skin and the flesh beneath. Now she remembered the purple in her hair; the green on her face and Ailsa mentioning something about make-up too. It seemed that steadily she had been becoming orc.

Tejal had stayed clear of it all: not put on a helmet; not gone through the arch; not approached the gateway. Surely that was the thing that triggered the final transformation. It was a hub of orc magic, readying newcomers for their true form before they even reached Saoghal so they did not turn up there in weak human bodies.

Larysa sauntered away from this room, aware of how her muscled thighs made her gait so different. She went back to where the orc clothes had been held. She admired herself in the long mirror. The face was familiar but with its features magnified and strengthened. Her ears were most: now changed long and angular as they rose from her head. She ran her hands over her long purple hair and cupped her ample breasts. Orc babies, she knew, would be hungry. She laughed deeply to find herself thinking of orc babies. Larysa picked the remains of the soft shorts she wore as undies when drumming, from her pubic hair. Doing so, she was also pleased to find that the chubby clitoris the dream had promised, was there for real. Stroking it, Larysa let out a keening that she knew then was the sound of an excited orc female.

It was hard for Larysa to focus. However, she realised she could not stand here naked especially as she had not barricaded the door to the street and someone homeless or drunk might stray in here which could cause all kinds of problems. Added to that, she was eager to get the other side of that gateway to find out how much of the dream had been a prophecy. The thought of stepping into another world also excited her. Considerations of what it would mean to go there looking like this and whether she would ever be able to return, did not trouble Larysa’s mind. She did not recognise she had been locked on to the path OLC had chosen the moment she had returned this evening; perhaps even the first time she had come to this place.

Larysa with Lar-sa’s eye for orc fashion picked between the various clothes on offer. Lacing herself into a encompassing leather bra and panties felt really good. Then she was into tight leggings which strained against her rounded butt and powerful thighs. There was a sleeveless jerkin scored with patterns and long leather boots laced at the back which would be perfect for riding a wolf. Lar-sa was barely aware of how increasingly her judgements; her expectations were now those of an orc female. Proudly Lar-sa strode from the changing room back into the gateway room. Now all hesitation had gone from her and she was quickly up the steps and pressing on, fearless, into the green light. Without a look back, she was gone from Earth with no thought that Larysa the human had disappeared from it some minutes before.

Lar-sa expected to arrive at the gateway in the plaza at Priomh, but instead realised she was in a courtyard of the Olch clan’s house in the city. She breathed in deeply all the aromas of that came to her; looked up to the orange and purple sky, feeling then that she had somehow come home. Dimly Lar-sa had the sense this should all seem new and strange, but the sense that it was right was stronger.

‘There is another. Just as Sharngor foresaw.’

Lar-sa could hear the guttural Orcish this one was speaking, but it held no mystery for her. She turned to see a male orc with leather armour and helmet, with an axe on his hip. He even looked familiar. There was a blue-haired female orc with him. She was dressed in lighter, tighter fitting leather clothes. A white gold ring sat in her septum and short, horn earrings in her angled ears. For all her martial look, Lar-sa took her to be some kind of sorceress.

‘I am going to have a word with Korlarg, he told me he had packed it all up; closed the gateway securely and yet we have two new orcs turning up here within a matter of hours.’

‘I am Lar-sa,’ she said walking towards the two orcs; finding herself making the typical greeting gesture.

‘I am Falta-sra,’ she said, though sounding reluctant to do so. ‘And I am guessing you were a human woman. A big … tall one, for that.’

Now she mentioned it Lar-sa realised she was head and shoulders above the two here.

‘I am Lar-sa,’ she re-emphasised.

‘It has taken very strongly with you. I guess that is because of the bastardised system that that fool Korlarg ended up leaving behind or maybe … maybe someone hacked it; turned it to their own use.’

‘But we still need females,’ the guardorc said. ‘For this clan ourselves.’

‘But we were careful. We spread them among clans; those who paid for a new orc to come to them. In different towns and camps, from here to Amuigh and Coille. Now two have come right here to this compound. The way the gateway must have been left. But humans should not be able to open it.’

‘Orc hands can,’ Lar-sa chuckled, waving hers at this female.

Many thoughts, let alone memories, seemed to belong to someone else, but Lar-sa found she could envisage Morga opening the gateway.

‘Curses on Korlarg, he’s left too much lying around. I bet he did not even switch off the elixir from the arch. I need to get back there sort this out,’ the female said, turning away.

‘And myself?’ Lar-sa asked.

She was uncertain what she should do next but felt eager to get established here. Surely this was her clan.

‘Do you wish to go back? Back … to Edinburgh?’ the name sounded odd in her voice.

Lar-sa struggled to think of that place; of her life before. It did seem all wrong to her and whenever she stirred up a memory from then it seemed to fade quickly and be replaced with a more appropriately orcish one. Quickly the streets of Priomh were becoming more familiar to her than those of what had been her home town.

‘I am Lar-sa. Is Morga here … is Sharngor here?’

‘Typical they turn up so horny and before they know it, they have locked themselves into being an orc forever,’ Falta-sra complained.

‘Can’t you smell she is on heat? It is not good to deny her a sating.’

‘You are telling me that as an orc female?’ Falta-sra laughed sharply before turning to Lar-sa. ‘Sharngor is here and I imagine if he has the usual orc faith in prophecy, he will be expecting you.’

Lar-sa could not stop how her arousal ratcheted up another level. She scissored her legs to work her slick orc pussy.

‘Go and fuck him if you feel you must,’ Falta-sra said with a grin. ‘It will spare me having to work to get you back to your human form.’

Lar-sa followed the direction of the orc sorceress’s gaze and, as it was, recognised the layers of the fat tower. If Sharngor was where she had seen him before in her own vision, she would find him easily.

‘It is not the way it is supposed to work,’ Lar-sa heard Falta-sra say behind her.

It did nothing to slow her pace and she was quickly climbing the stairs. There emerging from another room, dressed in nothing bar a long leather robe was another orc female. She was a little shorter than Lar-sa and with a mohican of bright red hair cresting her head. Then she was grinning and immediately Lar-sa felt she knew her; then that, of course, it was Morga. Morga smelt strongly of sex simply adding more fuel to the sensations which were growing stronger in Lar-sa herself.

‘It is just like the dream,’ Morga sounded pleased. ‘It was a prophecy. You – Lar-sa,’ she said as if uncertain. You and me we came from another world. We were new orcs.’

‘New orcs?’

Morga nodded. ‘Not that I am new now. Not since I eased Rokash’s so-hard cock deep inside. You’ve got to do it; you’ve got … to take that last step; make sure you can never go back,’ Morga spoke clearly savouring the memories coming to her mind. ‘Who would want to give up any of this?’ She thrust open the robe and raised up her shiny green breasts in both hands.

Lar-sa smiled, feeling hyped up by Morga’s words. While anything about another world; about not being a female orc seemed very vague; strange even, she was heartened to know what she had dreamt of could, would, come true. Now she felt that hunger not just for any orc cock but for Sharngor’s. She stepped forward and kissed Morga’s lips. The female orc rubbed her breasts across the leather breastplate Lar-sa wore and laughed lightly. She playfully slapped Lar-sa’s bum, sending her on her way.

Stepping away, heading towards the door that looked familiar, Lar-sa gave no thought to her friend’s enthusiasm; to the recognition that now she was fully an orc she herself she would encourage anything what would benefit the clan. While there were remnants of Larysa the human still in this female, they were so encircled already by orc thinking; orc lusts, that she could not see through them.

The door that Lar-sa opened led into the familiar room. She felt as if she had always been destined to come here; to do what needed to be done in here. A huge rug of some alien creature’s pelt dominated the floor. Flames flickered from a fire bowl in the corner. At the far end of the room was a low but orc-sized bed and as she entered a naked male orc tossed back the animal skin blanket and rose from it. 

This was Sharngor and Lar-sa admired his strong features. This was a suitable mate for an orc like her. Her prospective mate, took a few steps towards Lar-sa but stopped half the room away from her. As he stood there his large, fat cock steadily rose and Lar-sa found she could not take her eyes off it.

‘I can see the need in you Lar-sa. You need to feel heavy orc cock deep inside, don’t you?’

Lar-sa found herself saying ‘Yes, I am need it … I must have you in me’.

Lar-sa realised that actually there was a real hunger in her. It grew out from her pussy that was steadily demanding to be filled by just the kind of orc cock that was on offer; not simply that, but she was eager to go with this one; to tie herself to his clan, to him. Then the aroma from her own sex; from the male, came to her and she felt heady. Lar-sa knew she was in heat and she relished the sensation, making her body thrum; readying it to be penetrated; to be confirmed in all that she had become.

‘That is it. You can feel it, can’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Lar-sa said with a laugh. ‘I am an orc on heat and I’ve chosen you to be the one to sate that. Only you, Sharngor can satisfy my appetite.’

The male orc grinned at that and Lar-sa felt her words were true. She began to strip away the leather armour where she stood. Almost without noticing she was down to the leather bra and panties. One hand teased out a dark green nipple from its cup and played with it. The other slipped beneath her panties to where her purple hair was already matted with juice and, with her thumb, toyed with her clit which was almost as large. Larysa shuddered at the pleasure. Yet somehow this did little to suppress her need.

‘I am needy,’ she repeated and now stepped closer. ‘I need you to fuck me,’ she insisted.

Lar-sa had no desire to fight against her growing orc instincts. She drank in the aromas that had come to her, that had allowed her body to take over control from her mind. She reached to unlace her bra and then let it drop to the floor. She looked down over her ample green-skinned bust, her nipples so erect. Then she shed her panties and kicked them away. She walked forward slowly and Sharngor scrambled back to sit on the large pillows. Lar-sa knew it was so easy for her to have this orc in her and then that at this moment she wanted nothing else.

Hurrying across the bed, Lar-sa forced a deep kiss on the male, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and wrestling with his. His large hands cupped her ample breasts, playing with the thick dark nipples. Then she spread her legs and slid her sodden green pussy down on to his cock, loving how deep it went, how far it filled her. She laughed a deep, orcish laugh and for a large humanoid, used her strong muscles deftly to spin her body on his cock and then go down on her forearms. It felt to be so bestial to be taken like this, like she was some predator out on the plains who had drawn her mate in to couple with her.

Lar-sa roared as the hard thrusts of Sharngor powered into her and she was soon gasping and howling with pleasure. Then one of Sharnor’s hands crept to stroke at her clit; another to tease her nipple and she rose up groaning and shuddering her strong green body as the sex chased every last element of her that had come from Earth out from Lar-sa. Finally she slumped down on the bed, her body reeking with the richness of her sweat, her juices and her mate’s jism. For now she was sated, but as an orc female, she knew her sexual hunger would soon build once more.

****

Tejal awoke. She looked to her phone for the time. Since the disappearance of Morag and Larysa she had found it hard to sleep until exhaustion had caught up with her. She wondered now what it was that could have stirred her. Then she saw the bright green glow that appeared to be coming from the tiny living room of her small flat. Had she left something on in there? She hardly believed anyone would bother breaking into this small place. Cautiously, she clambered from the bed. As she opened the door, she was stunned as, silhouetted against the bright green light were two large figures; clearly female but far larger than she would have expected. The light itself span in the air like something from a science fiction movie.

Tejal could only think she was being visited by aliens. Something stopped her shouting; stopped her screaming and she was unresisting as with some guttural language, one stepped forward and pulled a helmet down over her head.

‘There, Teja, now you can understand us. Saoghal needs orc females and soon you are going to be wanting to be the newest recruit.’

She felt something being sprayed on to her and it began to make her skin tingle.

THE END.