“What book say?” asked the kobold holding Troy’s leash.
“I no read, you?” replied the one with the book.
They both just grunted. That’s why the master had chosen these kobolds, Troy realized. They had no idea what the book could do and couldn’t read it even if they did.
The kobold gave Troy’s leash a tug and her body plodded behind.
Troy didn’t want to follow the kobolds. She wanted to push past them, to walk back to the house, back through the door. She wanted to go to Rusty, to make sure he was alright. She wanted to be with him, even if the two of them were stuck like this forever, even if he didn’t know who she was. She didn’t want to go back to the mines, to the kobolds. But she didn’t have a choice.
The kobold had given her leash a light tug and her body obeyed. As the kobolds began the trek back to the mountain, her body followed behind. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, to pull her leash free of the kobold’s grasp, to run away and never look back.
It wasn’t as though she was too weak to do so – she was following behind 2 kobolds that probably weighed less than 40 pounds if you added them together. As pathetic as her new body was, it still towered over the small reptiles leading her on. A single good kick was probably all it would take to shatter their bones or even just a light tug enough to free her from their grasp. But no matter how much she wanted to do that, to fight back, to resist them in any small way, her body refused to cooperate. It just plodded on, ignoring her mental protests to follow submissively behind them.
Submissively. That word resonated in Troy’s head. She felt so submissive, so pathetic, so worthless. Her arms had shifted into something that was between an arm and a leg – they let her walk on all fours without feeling as though she was crawling but, at the same time, her arms were just a tad shorter than her legs. That caused her to walk with her ass pressed up into the air while her chest was lowered into a permanent bowing position.
And then there was her tail – it was sticking straight up behind her, exposing her puffy, flaring sex to anyone who wanted to see. She could lower her tail if she focused hard enough, she could even bring it down enough to cover up and give herself a small measure of decency. But it would just shoot back up the instant she let her mind wander to something else. Given her new walking posture – head down, ass up – she was forced into a permanent, submissive position as she presented herself to world. Her body had no choice but to invite itself to be used.
Speaking of her wandering mind, the kobolds made no attempt to hide as they walked down the city streets. It was like they were parading her in front of the city’s residents. And every time she saw someone, whether it be a man, a woman, a dog, a cat – her mind raced back to her needy pussy. All she could think about was getting fucked by everyone and everything that she saw. Her mind was filled with images of them using whatever equipment that had to take her, to penetrate her, to violate her, to help relieve an unending ache that had been with her for her entire life. But it was a futile thought.
Everyone that came near her reacted the same – with complete and utter disgust. They would hold their nose, they would gag, they would turn around or run to the other side of the street. An unfortunate few who got too close even threw up. And then there were the comments.
“Disgusting!”
“I can’t believe they take that thing on walks!”
“Why do they even keep that thing around?”
“Its breasts are leaking all over the place! Who is going to wash that away?”
Even the kobolds, who seemed more tolerant of her smell, complained.
“Why we get stuck with stink monster?” one said.
“You no beg hard enough!” chided the other, “beg for miner next time. They smarter, move quicker, smell less terrible!”
No one was going to help her, much less fuck her. No one wanted anything to do with her. To them she was worse than sewage as she spread her stink and left a trail of wet, milky concrete behind her. She wanted to whimper, to hang her head and apologize that her presence had ruined their day. But she was so humiliated, so pathetic that she couldn’t even do that.
“Rrrrgghh!” Troy yelled internally, squinting her eyes as she tried to push those thoughts from her mind. It was so hard to get them out, and even if she could, they just kept pushing their way back in. It was this body, she realized, she was trapped in a slave’s body, in a slave’s life.
It was like when Rusty turned her into his boyfriend, how quickly she had adapted to being gay. Or when she had been turned into a pregnant woman, how quickly she had adapted to being a mother. Even though Troy remained Troy, even though she retained her old memories, the new memories, the new instincts of whatever body she was in kept forcing themselves upon her. Troy may be Troy but she was currently stuck in Stinkbitch’s body, in Stinkbitch’s life.
Stinkbitch was submissive to such an extreme that Troy had no choice but to obey any order given to her. She had no choice but to be ashamed of her existence. The mere idea that Stinkbitch could act on her own was so foreign to her, so alien, that the idea of independence had stopped feeling natural to Troy – each thought was an unfathomably wide canyon that Troy had to leap across.
She kept telling herself that she had to fight back, to stay herself. The kobolds had no idea she’d ever been anything other than Stinkbitch, they had no idea that there was a person trapped inside of this filthy prison. A person that could imagine a better life than the one they had given her. If she could just hold onto her mind until she got back, until they left her alone, then maybe she could get away, find one of the books and try to fix herself.
Scanning over her memories, she didn’t remember being led through any doors on the way out of the mine. The passageways worming their way through the mountain were completely open and largely unguarded – the only thing that had ever kept the miners in place, or herself, was that they had known what that place was. But Troy wasn’t Stinkbitch, not yet. So while Troy knew Stinkbitch’s place, there was still a chance that Troy could escape from it.
Eventually they reached the mountain. Troy was exhausted. Her body was heavy and her limbs were weak. With every step her arms and legs had pressed into her breasts, causing them to sway back and forth while milk dripped onto the ground below her. All the while the baby kept moving, kept squirming, its scales painfully cutting into her. Troy knew she needed to be thinking of a plan to escape, to be mapping out the route they took back to the mines. But she also just wanted to lie down. To let her stomach be cradled by the muck in her stall, to go to sleep and deal with escaping tomorrow. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t going to happen.
Troy had expected to be led straight back to the mines, but as the kobolds leading her reached the mountain’s entrance, a new kobold stepped out in front of them blocking their path.
This new kobold wasn’t like the rest. He was slightly taller, more muscular, and unlike the dirty green scales of her previous captors, this one’s scales were polished, shiny and dark red. Also unlike the kobolds that had led her here – who were clothed in cheap leather rags – this new kobold was decked out in an expensive looking set of half plate armor, with a fancy, gold hilted sword hanging from his waist. The only thing that didn’t look expensive was the wet cloth he had draped over the front of his snout – an attempt to protect himself from Troy’s smell no doubt.
“Master want to talk to thing, give to me!” it menacingly demanded.
The bluster was for show, to let the other kobolds know where the stood in relation to the new one. It was also unnecessary – the kobold holding her leash joyfully handed it over, relieved to be free of the burden she imposed on him.
“Ahhh nose cloth do nothing! You stink so bad!" the kobold angrily cried out, "Follow me but keep distance, don’t want to get covered in you filth, never be able to wash off!”
With another tug on her leash Troy started walking deeper into the mountain, always following the path that led up.