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Infiltration	By : Ovipositivity Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 4072 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Infiltration
- 1
Garona Halforcen cursed under her breath. She had been a fool to take this mission. She had struggled long and hard to free herself from the Shadow Council’s control. The vile Gul’dan’s hooks had been lodged deep within her soul, so deep that she had abandoned any hope of freedom. It had taken a miracle to free her. Why was she back here, skulking around the Nighthold, risking her hard-won freedom?

Because it took a miracle. Because the monster is still out there. Because the Legion has come here, to this world. Because if I run now, I’ll have to fight later… alone.

She shook her head to clear it. The best intelligence the Alliance and Horde had placed Gul’dan somewhere within the Nighthold, the bastion of the corrupted Nightborne. The creatures disgusted her; they had fought so long and so hard against the vile Legion, only to surrender. Too afraid to die on their feet, they would now live on their knees, servants and puppets of Gul’dan. They were almost too wretched to hate… almost.

Garona tried not to let her disgust cloud her thinking. The Nightborne were deadly opponents, each one of them from the cradle as magically adept as any Horde or Alliance battlemage. They tapped into strange arcane energies beyond imagination. They would not be easy to fool.

Fortunately, Garona was no ordinary orc. Slim and lithe, her limber body betrayed her mixed heritage. No full-blood orc could move with her speed and precision while remaining silent. She wore tight black leather that clung to her supple curves like a second skin. Even bound tightly to reduce her profile, the swell of her breasts was unmistakable beneath the leather, as was the rounded curve of her firm buttocks. She was not above using her sexual wiles to keep an opponent off-balance-- sometimes a second was all it took. Her blades were blacked with soot to prevent an errant moonbeam from giving her away, but they were still razor-sharp Horde steel. If any of Gul’dan’s lapdogs found her, she’d have to make sure they didn’t survive to report it.

She slinked through the aqueducts. The creatures that dwelt here were bizarre, twisted by the radiating energies of the Nightwell. Strange whorls and eddies of temporal energy barred her path. Chronormu-- Chromie-- had briefed her on these before her mission, but the gist of her advice had been “stay away from them.” There had been a lot of words about “instability,” “reframing,” “matrix crossover” and “quantum,” but the result was the same: stay away. Garona didn’t need an ancient bronze dragon to tell her that the rippling vortices were bad news. It complicated her infiltration, but no rogue’s job was ever easy. That would be boring.

She kept to the shadows, pausing as a rustling sound filled the tunnel up ahead. Something chitinous and shiny, with too many limbs, scuttled past, and Garona was grateful for the dim light. Some things she didn’t want to see too closely. She passed by unharmed and climbed by flickering torchlight.

The main structure of the Nighthold was far more civilized than the aqueducts below. Nightborne walked by in ones and twos, laughing and chattering. This was clearly still a fortress, and one on a war footing; guards patrolled with grim expressions, both armored sentinels and skilled war-mages. The Nightborne had created a number of elegant constructs, and Garona took care to stay far away from these. She didn’t know what kind of arcane senses they might have, what means of detecting her presence that she couldn’t shield from. Better to avoid.

The terraces above climbed over each other in a dizzying array, too complex even for Garona to map. She made for the outskirts. It was not hard to see where the Nightwell was-- the whole structure was built around it, and towered above it like a tree growing from a twisted seed. Somewhere far up there, Gul’dan was waiting with the Eye of Aman’thul. The thought of it made Garona clench her fists involuntarily. Her tormentor, the source of all her pain and humiliation, who had stolen her life… within reach at last. Her mission was just to observe and report, but she had promised herself that if she got a shot at Gul’dan she would take it. Damn Khadgar! He hadn’t suffered what she’d suffered. He didn’t know.

The path ahead wound through the Nightborne’s apartments. She took it slowly. Most of the city was abandoned; the Nightborne were a fading race, despite their prowess and the Nightwell feeding them strength. She never knew which apartments would be occupied. Most weren’t, and the few that were could be bypassed easily. Ever upward she traveled, making a note of the approaches: which were guarded, and which were in disrepair. Pausing at a balcony she crouched down and surveyed the courtyard far below. The gilded guardian that patrolled around it looked fearsome, and any raiding party that might make it this far would need to be warned. She tried to sketch a mental map of the approach, remembering the route she had taken through the aqueducts. So absorbed was she in this exercise that she didn’t hear the footsteps until it was almost too late.

Someone was approaching. Garona ducked behind a hanging curtain, the only cover she could find, and cursed herself internally. Despite everything, she was getting sloppy. The prospect of revenge was clouding her vision. This wouldn’t work as cover-- her feet were visible. It would only give her a couple of seconds. She reversed her grip on the knife and waited. It sounded like just one person approaching. Good. She could handle one.

The footsteps reached the entrance to the room she was in and paused. Garona willed them to keep moving, but instead she heard them grow louder as the intruder approached. From the sound of it, they were no more than five feet away. Three. Two.

With a single motion she twitched the curtain aside and sprang out. She caught a glimpse of a surprised face, narrow and dark, and eyes widening before her dagger was at the Nightborne’s throat. One hand grabbed the creature’s hair and pulled it back while the drew the blade across the exposed throat. The Nightborne opened its mouth to scream and a wash of dark blood poured out. It thrashed weakly in Garona’s grip and expired.

The half-orc laid out her kill and wiped off her blade on the curtain. The sticky blood smelled off, poisoned somehow. Everything about these creatures is corrupt. The one she had slain looked like a young female, but Garona knew the Nightborne was likely older than she-- they were elves, long-lived by nature and with their lives further augmented by their magic. This one wore the uniform of the home guard. That didn’t make Garona feel much better. She killed when she had to, but she took no pleasure in it. It was just a task. She dragged the corpse out of sight and shoved it under a chaise lounge in one corner. With luck, it wouldn’t be discovered until she was well out of here.

She continued her ascent. She did not dare infiltrate the main spire-- not yet at least-- but hopefully she could get a few good looks at it from one of these outer towers. If she made it that far, perhaps she could try to get into the Nightwell itself-- though it was certain to be heavily guarded. She passed more patrols, but none of them noticed her. Garona’s stealth had always been legendary, and under the harsh domination of the Shadow Council she had been forced to improve it further still. She had taken to training the best assassins of the Horde and Alliance, but none of her pupils could stand up to their mistress. Now she was like smoke, blowing along at ground level; now a leaf in the wind, now a shadow dancing up a wall. Her movements were fluid and graceful, with perfect economy of motion. Not a foot, not a hair out of place. Her silence was absolute. On the other side of a thin wall, she heard an urgently whispered conversation between two Nightborne. She did not speak their language, but it sounded heated. One of them spat a last rebuke and stormed off. The other, after a short interlude, started weeping. Garona ignored that and pressed on.

Something was happening to her sense of direction. This place was a maze, a labyrinth of dim corridors all alike, but Garona was normally an excellent tracker. She felt befuddled. She could have sworn that she had passed through this intersection before. How was that possible? She had only gone straight ahead. Had she stepped into one of those anomalies without realizing it? She turned around to retrace her steps and stared back down an unfamiliar hallway. She was sure she had not seen that chandelier before. Had she just passed through that door? No, that was a double door, and hers had been single. Well then, was it that room? But that would have meant she had walked across that narrow bridge, and she certainly didn’t remember that…

Panic rose in her breast. This wasn’t right. She was being mazed, deliberately confused and led astray. Some subtle arcana was working on her. She had to get out, now. There had been a staircase down a few rooms back. She just had to work her way back there--

She stumbled into a room she hadn’t seen before. It was an apartment, like the others, but the furniture had been cleared off the floor. Not gently, either. From the looks of it it had been shoved aside. Toppled chairs and torn curtains were heaped up at the edges of the room. The floor was dominated by a vast inscribed circle. It glowed a sickly green. The circle was lined with ugly runes, runes that Garona couldn’t read but recognized at once. As her breath caught in her throat, the runes flared with fel flame. The darkness in the corners of the room gathered, thickened, congealed, and grinned. Gul’dan stepped out into the middle of the circle.

“Garona.” His voice crackled with malice and sick humor. “My old pet. How nice to see you again.”

She could barely speak. Rage welled up within her. Unconsciously she gripped her daggers tighter. “Gul’dan,” she hissed.

“I knew you missed me. Come back, my dear. All is forgiven. The Shadow Council has need of your services again.”

“Never,” Garona spat. It took all her self control not to lunge at him. This was a trap, as she well knew. To get out of it she’d need to be thinking straight.

“Nonsense. I know how scary it can be out there, thinking for yourself. Why not let me do it again? I know you were happiest as a tool. A knife is made for being wielded, Garona.”

That did it. Something snapped inside her. With a bestial howl, Garona raised her dagger and charged at the laughing warlock.

As she crossed the circle, pain flared up inside her. It felt like she was burning from the inside out. Her limbs jittered and twitched, her dagger clattering away across the floor. She managed two more half-steps before collapsing in spasms. Her momentum slid her a few more feet across the floor before she came to rest in a drooling, jerking heap. She felt warmth spreading from her crotch as she lost control of her bladder. Gul’dan loomed over her, grinning hugely.

“I knew it. You longed to kneel at my feet. Well, Garona,” he reached down and grabbed her by the neck. Fel-infused muscles pulsed under his skin as he lifted her bodily off the ground. “I welcome your return! And I have just the use in mind for you.” With his other hand, he held up a wickedly curved sickle. The blade flashed, but Garona felt no pain. It took a moment for her to realize he had sliced through her suit, the blade parting the toughened leather like cheesecloth. Somehow he had managed to part each layer of armor and underclothes with a single blow without touching her skin. Reaching up, he peeled the suit off of her and tossed it aside like a shed skin. Her voluptuous breasts, freed from confinement, nearly exploded out of the suit. Gul’dan laughed. “My, you’ve grown, my little Garona. You’re a woman now. I remember when you first came into my service. What a scrawny thing you were, and now look at you! I imagine if I gave you to my warriors they’d have quite a bit of fun with you.”

Garona’s heart pounded. Terror filled her veins with ice water. She knew it was no idle boast. Gul’dan occasionally let his captives entertain his Horde-- that was how she had been conceived in the first place. To face that fate now was a cruel irony.

“No, no,” said Gul’dan, dismissively. “I have better plans for you. You’ll notice you’re already in a summoning circle. That makes my life easier.” He dropped her to the floor and began to chant. “Manak kryek, manak shee-ath, ress amoga…”

A pool of darkness was growing on the floor twenty feet away. As Garona watched it expanded until it was about fifteen feet across. It was like a window in the floor, open to another world; through it she could see a cloud of dark green mist. She pulled herself up to her elbows with difficulty and stared. There was something approaching through the mist, some vast dark shape. Lacking the strength to run, Garona trembled in fear. Something was coming. Gul’dan’s chanting built to a fever pitch, his orcish throat contorting to make the sounds.

A hideous mass of rubbery flesh was erupting through the portal like a pustule. Its skin was rugose and diseased, with clusters of buboes and irregular tufts of hair. It hefted its bulk on thick, elephantine legs that terminated in gnarled hooves-- five legs, eight, eleven, Garona couldn’t tell. A frond of tentacles waved from its back like anemones. The smell was appalling, a fetid, decaying odor of corruption. As Gul’dan finished his chant, he smiled down at his captive. “You will be my offering, Garona, to the Legion. Behold! They have answered.” He stepped back out of the circle and called out. “She is yours, Great One. Do as you will.”

The creature took a couple of unsteady steps towards Garona. She frantically scrambled across the floor, but she was still weak and uncoordinated. A pair of tentacles shot out and wrapped themselves around her ankles. She found herself being reeled in like a fish on a line. An anguished scream escaped her throat, but despite her desperate thrashing, the grip of the tentacles remained iron. One looped around both ankles, while two more found her lashing wrists and bound them tightly. Another wrapped around her neck, but with surprising delicacy. She sucked in a ragged breath.

The tentacles lifted her off the ground. The smell intensified as she found herself suspended over the demon’s body. She gagged and choked, fighting to keep her gorge down. Another tentacle snaked out and wrapped around one ankle, the four of them pulling apart until she was spread-eagled in midair. The cool air of the Nighthold blew across her body, raising gooseprickles on her skin. She twisted to try to hide her nakedness from Gul’dan, but he was watching avidly, and she could barely move. He cackled as the cold air stiffened her nipples. “Aha, you slut! Born from cross-species disgrace, I see it’s the only thing that gets you wet! Well, you’ll get your wish, you halfbreed harlot!”

Another tentacle was rising from the middle of the frond. This was one shorter and thicker than the others holding her, with a bulbous head. Garona tried to clench her thighs together, but she was being stretched as tightly as any prisoner on the rack. She wept in helpless frustration as the tentacle snaked between her legs, curling up one thigh before positioning itself at the entrance to her half-orc honeypot. It paused for just a moment before bunching itself up and ramming forward, burying five inches of thick, rubbery meat inside her.

Despite herself, Garona howled, as much at the humiliation and violation as at the sudden pain. She could see more tentacles rising towards her. The one inside her coiled and plunged deeper, eliciting another howl as its thick head battered down her defenses. Her nether lips were already sore and aching from this sudden violation. There had been no warning, no opportunity for her to loosen up, just a sudden shock and now this sustained pressure. The tentacle was leaking some kind of warm fluid, and it tingled on her skin as it pulled itself nearly all the way out before smashing back again. At least it was lubricated now-- but she could see her pussy bulging and distorting around the huge invader. It made a visible lump under her skin that moved as the tentacle pulled back and thrust forward again and again. She could feel it deep inside her, a rhythmic pounding against her delicate quim. Her once-tight passage was being stretched beyond recognition into a slick fuck-sleeve for her demonic lover. Her body deformed around it, her organs shoved rudely to the side to make room for the rock-hard battering ram.

Garona grunted as she felt her guts probed by the demon’s massive tentacle. Something was brushing against her back-- another tentacle, twin to the first, had snuck up behind her and was sliding between her butt cheeks. She barely had time to register its presence before it tensed and barrelled forward into her ass. Her O-ring held for a half-second before dilating, surrendering its tightness to the demonic intrusion. She felt it give as the second length of tentacle buried itself in her ass, instantly wrecking that hole beyond recognition. A tentacle thicker than her arm probed into her bowels, gushing forth a torrent of warm goop. The tentacles pistoned back and forth before settling into a rhythm where they matched each other stroke for stroke. When both withdrew, her holes gaped open; when they hilted themselves, her belly bulged tremendously, two bulges that blended into one. A hideous wet squelching marked each new attack, as nameless fluids squirted across her thighs and puddled on the floor. The tentacle in her ass pushed deeper, deeper, past her rectum and up in her innards. Her asshole flexed and strained around it, having somehow remained intact. As Garona’s mouth gaped open, a third tentacle planted itself inside, slithering down her throat and pumping torrents of fluid directly into her stomach.

Garona’s eyes rolled back into her head. She was no longer fully conscious. She had ceased to feel the individual thrusts; they overlapped and rolled together into one big sensation. Fel ichor was suffusing her system, cross-wiring her synapses and unfolding a whole new set of unfamiliar sensations. A sickly pleasure crept over her, one quite unlike any sexual fulfillment she had experienced before. She moaned and gurgled around the tentacle filling her mouth. Her pussy, stretched and abused as it was, spasmed around the tentacle as the pleasure filled her. It destroyed any remnant of rational thought, as the last shreds of her personality crisped and burned away in the fel heat. In their place rose a primal, swampy arousal, a torrid lust that would have put a Shivarra to shame. Garona groaned as orgasm after orgasm crashed over her like breaking waves. They shook her whole body life a leaf, curling her toes and clenching her fingers. As she came over and over, the demon followed her lead, its tentacles contracting with peristalsis to shoot load after load of thick, sticky demonic cum deep into her belly and bowels. The liquid spurting was audible even to Gul’dan, who grinned at the sounds. Garona’s womb quickly filled up with demonic seed, but even as stretched and broken as it was, her pussy formed a tight seal around the thick tentacle. With its only egress blocked, more demon sperm flowed into her uterus, filling her fallopian tubes and drowning her ovaries.

As more and more jizzum packed into her womb, it stretched grotesquely, plumping out her flat tummy into a gravid orb. As her womb was defiled, so was her colon, the tentacle in her ass pumping gallon after gallon of fel cum into her packed shitpipe. Simultaneously the third tentacle in her mouth began to fill her stomach, depositing its load directly down her throat without waiting for her to swallow. The backflow filling her intestines from below met the torrent coming from above, and something had to give. That something was her much-abused anus-- unable to hold back the pressure, it surrendered, and with a loud BRRRRRRAP a waterfall of demonic cum poured out of Garona’s asshole. More shot out of her nose as her sinuses backed up, and she retched out a thick bubble of it that popped across her chin, but the lion’s share of the cum in her overstuffed body was flooding out of her annihilated ass. When the tentacle withdrew with a wet plop, that just widened the hole. The sound continued, a truly gargantuan cumfart that coated her thighs in sticky semen and formed a widening pool on the floor. After what seemed like ages, the flow slackened. Garona’s stomach and guts were still full of seed, but at least she no longer felt like she was about to pop. Her stomach was obscenely bloated, a sphere fully two feet across with veins clearly visible below her green skin. Her pussy lips drooped as the last tentacle withdrew, but it was a testament to the fucking she had undergone that they did not close back up all the way. The demon lowered her to the floor and let go, letting her drop the last three feet. She landed bonelessly in a puddle of leaked sperm, splashing the last few inches of her body that weren’t already covered in fel bukakke. Bored, the demon began to wander off.

Gul’dan wasn’t quite done with her yet. He crossed the floor and crouched above his erstwhile puppet, stroking her cheek with one hand. Garona’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus on him. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she reached out one arm weakly, which Gul’dan clasped hand in hand. “Garona, my child, it is truly good to see you have returned to us. You know that I missed you.” He stood, and his voice hardened. “You should never have come back. I told you I would give you to my warriors. I have new warriors now, but their tastes are the same. You will entertain them for many years to come.” He raised one foot over Garona. “We just have to empty you out.” With a single, vicious motion, he stomped on her belly.

Garona tensed, then vomited up a massive flood of demonic cum. Her cheeks bulged as she fought to control the spray. It painted her breasts and upper arms, a wild explosion of fel semen. At the same time, her much-abused pussy and ass each disgorged pressurized sprays of the stuff. Her body evacuated itself from all three holes at once. The demonic goo sprayed across the floor, adding to the puddle that was already there. “BLAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHH!” Garona groaned as she spewed out the chowdery gruel. The wet squelching, farting sounds coming from her lower half are best not described. After nearly thirty seconds of this, the sprays trickled off. Garona rolled onto her side, clutching her reduced-- but still swollen-- belly and moaning in pain and fear. Gul’dan spared her a look and stomped off chuckling. He had a group of upstart adventurers to prepare for. As he left, the second demon was already emerging from the portal.
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Infiltration