Create-A-Slut

Author's Note: I'm stunned nobody's ever thought to write a story about Taki with this premise. My first chapter with Setsuka was a fun silly detour based on a costume I made for her. In this case, it gets darker, and I went the opposite direction: I took an idea and tried to make it work with the Character Creation section of SCIV. It didn't go quite as planned. To create a version that fit the idea, I had to create a brand new character in Taki's image and with her fighting style, and sadly there are some aspects of the idea presented here that still can't be put into a created character. Many thanks to Anonelbe for his help as I did this, especially finding parts and reading a rough draft.


Ostrheinsburg Castle. That's what they called this place. The aura of Mekki-Maru hummed low and louder in her ear as it picked up the encroaching demonic presence. A squat, a leap, she rolled onto the wooden raft and floated in a downstream circle on the castle moat's unerring path. The instant she set foot on the vessel, she could sense in her soul the vibrant dark pulse that lingered on this spot.

She was Taki, Shadow Huntress of Demons, and she had found her mark.

"Show yourself," she shouted. The power of the unholy blade that led her here had lost its use as a guide, left to her own thriving senses to sniff out the evil that tainted this unusual setting. Her ears pricked. Her feet shifted. Her skin buzzed from the raw power that coursed here, a transport teeming with infernal strength. She glanced about for its source, high and low for the launch of a surprise attack typical of their honorless brood. Her two blades rang in alert from inside their sheaths, the splintering crack of one's metal filling her ears...

Her hunt for her prey turned to ripping a sheath off her back, eyes looking over Mekki-Maru. The magic cards that sealed its might slipped from the failing confines, the demonic blade's glow seeping through tears in her sole line of insulation between the Mekki-Maru and herself. Cursing herself under her breath, Taki reached for a peeling card on one end, yet as her hand touched a corner, a ripple and explosion of light consumed her sight. Shrapnel flew, its sound burned, and a force too powerful to resist impressed upon her the desire to change posture into a perfect and unaltered stand.

"Ugh. I can't... move. What demon magic is this?"

Taki tensed and struggled in her stasis to break free, vulnerable to the first assault of her foe. She fought worse, she reminded herself in the dark recesses of her mind. Years ago, Cervantes had fallen to her skill while her self-forged armor succumbed to blow after blow, a lesson learned that day to imbue her garments with more than spiritual protection. Her modifications after that fight and the many since included tougher alloys and lighter material, every toned muscle and accented curve so pronounced in the skintight suit that she scarcely looked clothed but for the distinct red hue. Her nipples poked through obscenely and the fabric ran up between her labia, exposing the tender shape of her meaty sex to all prowling lookers. The marked bounce of her breasts, large and unseemly for a ninja trained in the art of demon hunting, required the specially crafted support granted by her metal creation that wrapped around behind her back and tucked under her bosom. With its aid, the wild flail of her chest toned down to a manageable sway.

Ensnared by her unseen foe, the tiniest gripes of her body reminded her of their existence. Her bosom sagged. Her lip itched. Her ass begged her to dig in and pluck the suit out, so tight against her skin that it wrapped her buttocks separate. A heavy weight lifted with the loss of her shoulder armor, black metal surrounding her hazel eyes. Even in the fading light of dusk, Taki could see her reflection in the moat's water. The emblem on her forehead and the red-tipped growth of a mask's start came with the blood red horns of a creature that few outside her clan could claim to have seen and lived to tell.

"You've got to be kidding!" she shouted, a wave of understanding coming over her as she took in her demonic horns.

The force that bound her to this raft was testing her, the honorable soul of a demon hunter. Fear would not break her, not with all the training of the Fu-Ma clan instilled into her very core. She was a weapon against the evils of the demon world, and no measures could sabotage her will.

The imbalance caused by her new mockeries righted as her head and body adjusted. Adaptation was expected, yet a dark pit festered within her hardened warrior spirit when a change that should have taken years to accommodate developed into a perfect fit within seconds. Her sense of self extended to the pointed ends of her smooth, curving horns while the base bone melded with her skull. The outer mask that wrapped around each side hid her deformity, perhaps as an act of mercy...

No, she reminded herself. Demons know nothing of mercy. Cold-hearted and ruthless, monstrous beasts that kill any and all of the human world that they caught in their sights. Her rage boiled at their ilk, how they preyed on the weak and innocent. Her skin itched and burned inside her leotard, her well-defined curves showing clearer than if she had slathered herself with a layer of paint. Was it tighter than she thought? Its fabric seemed to crawl over her flesh, a thought she took as absurd until she felt it against the edge of her chin.

As if licked by the flames of Hell, Taki felt her sole ninja garment melt away, searing deep into her skin. Her nipples jutted their freedom. Her bosom sagged bare. Her pussy revealed the dark forest between her legs, sprawled in a landscape of red. Every inch of her now-naked form developed the same hue as the leotard she once wore, the pointed tips of her ears hiding behind a well-tied band of her dark black hair.

"Uuuugh," Taki groaned her disgust as a new aspect of her alterations made itself apparent. Her nose crisped and crinkled at the stink of demon wafting from her new physique, an added insult to her legendary skill. Her heightened senses made the smell nigh intolerable, magnified tenfold. "What pitiful efforts. You call yourselves demons? I was born to a world of conflict with your foul kind. The ninja master Toki raised me. He taught me how to take the skills I knew from birth and turn them into a blessing. I will escape this trap, and when I do, your kind will loathe you for the advantage you've given me in my fight."

She smirked. These were gifts, she realized. Gifts in the war against demons. Her form fit their nature, fangs forming in her mouth as the next step in her unholy transformation assaulted her.

Fingers and toes turned to rough, harsh bone as her nails became black claws fitting of her demonic appearance. Not content to stop at that alone, the evil force guiding Taki to her sadistic new form set to her gauntlets and greaves. The oni motif on what remained of her self-forged armor took on new life when re-structured with cursed alloy only capable from a land of fire and brimstone, horned protrusions at the knees and jagged humps at her knuckles. Though held tight by the supernatural grasp of her oppressor, she sensed the change as surely as she could sense each hair on her head, claws scraping the wooden raft and hanging on her hands.

"Show me your power!" Taki challenged. "Is this the best you have to offer? A bit of glamour? The woman who slayed your kind stands at your mercy, and your best efforts have done little more than provide the perfect cover for my work. I'm not impressed. You cannot hold me forever, and when I..." she faltered, "when I.... UHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

A deep, guttural groan accompanied the starkest change at the height of her pride-swilling soul. The gravest sin of seven laced deeply with the strong, defiant center of her spiritual essence, pulsing around it as the red thorns on her mask glowed. Black metal curved into an ornate design, warping over her nose to bind both sides together. Her red lips remained exposed to sight, shown between a pair of fangs on the upper and lower mimick of a much more powerful demon's mouth. Spying its make in the water's reflection, she remembered the mask from years ago. It was a gift from her master Toki, a guard protecting her from the powers of demons that sucked a mortal's soul through that coveted orifice.

At least, that's what she used to believe. One of her old master's lies. One of many, she suddenly realized as the truth unpeeled before her spirit mind-sight. It wasn't a memory, or a hazy dream-state. It was a secret at the core of her soul that only someone of unclouded vision could sense. She knew now why Mekki-Maru called to the dark recesses of her heart, the desire to master its immense power overriding her common sense to destroy the demonic blade. Her parents had been taken by sickness early in her life, leaving her an orphan with a heritage that Master Toki had tried, and finally failed, to subdue. There was no longer any reason to hide her real form, if such a desire even remained in her whorish heart.

She was a demon.

"Oooooooh YES!" Taki cried.

Her pussy flared like the undying firepits of Hell, eyes brimming with the vile lust of the succubus in her blood. She shook her ass with want as the power released her from her invisible binding. Every sight was one she scanned for opportunity in this new sinful world, a new object for her carnal needs and a new soul to condemn with her gaping maw wherever she chose to look.

The manly, muscled build of a strong samurai was the first of many mates to creep into her mind, and a quick shuffle of her options always jumped back to her one true destiny. Her claws teased her nipples with the threat of a piercing that would never come, her skin far tougher than the weak and frail human guise she used to wear. Hungry for torment, she pinched the tough nubs tighter in her sharp digits.

"Mitsurugi."

The mere calling of his name made her Hell hole steam with her juices, feeding her horny twinge with her own foul scent. Burning in pride and lust, Taki dropped to her knees, eyes falling on her blades as a curious transformation overtook them. Sturdy and razor-sharp were their traits, weapons well-suited to the genocide of the demon menace... was the thinking of Taki's old, ignorant self. Contrary to human logic, Taki lavished in the dark thought of slaughtering her own kind during her bout as a demon hunter. Their deaths at her blades, not an ounce of mercy in her self-righteous fight, had for so long laid her hideous soul bare. The mere knowledge of her depravity implying that humans could fall as low as demons made her shudder and arch her back as her first orgasm blasted through her fiery cunt.

Her soul cry bounced off the stone moat and echoed in the distance. She gripped her pine ride, bit into her lip, blood sneaking in the camouflage of her new flesh tone. Through blurred vision, Taki saw her trusty blades shift starting from the handles, the magic working its way upward. The hilts turned to a flatter base. The blades spread wide, special designs in red and blue coloring them as the material went from metal to wood. Her claws were the real weapon against her threats in her true form, and the grand unveiling converted these daggers into something truer to the spirit that dwelled inside her. Recovering from the wake of her initial joy ride, she took the handle of one paddle in each hand and got up to her knees panting, looking them over with a dark, toothy grin.

"I shall call you Battledore."

The former Rekki-Maru glowed with demon taint, finally in synchronous vibrance to the Mekki-Maru that her soul-reflecting dagger once shunned. With a dirty thought crossing her mind, she settled in her classic fighting stance and held. Imagining herself opposite of Mitsurugi, she raised her paddle outward and did something so unthinkable of the stern, serious human Taki that she could see him staring at her with stunned perplexion. The wood smacked hard into her finely toned ass, the pleasantly biting pain wetting both sets of lips while she taunted the pretend Mitsurugi with words straight from the heart.

"Just come at me. I'm ready for anything."

A couple more swats to her free ass sated her lust for self-humiliation for the moment, though her admirably timed recovery from her last climax showed her true power as she found herself up to full strength in less than a minute's time. Her claws dove between her sopping, sweating legs, parting the red sex with her unholy drive. The deepest crevices of her sinful, soul-consuming puss received a harsh scrape that they so richly deserved. Much as she enjoyed the shedding of blood, Taki felt the tough insides withstand. Unsurprising, she thought, pumping with more might than a siege ram on Ostrheinsburg Castle's gates.

The succubi were a hardy race of demons, born and bred for one purpose: to fuck. Countless partners of man, demon and beast had shown their brood the need for more resistant loins. Between their open legs, succubi had no need to fear even the sharpest of swords. A simple catch and spasm could snap such twigs in two.

With her claws clenched by her inner walls, Taki dug and poked with abandon, occasionally stretching the lips. It hardly tested her size; no, it would take a full demon to spread them past her limits. Yet the playful tweak afforded her the chance to let loose, showing her the very surface of her carnal soul. Her hot, lusting breath poured out in a fine mist through her lips, the reek of her demon essence carried on the air.

Her ass throbbed as she shook it to ease its hunger. The fevered sway in her masturbatory glee had all the power to drive a male's hormones into overdrive and make him plunge his phallus into the sphincter between her full steel rump, even this prepared to milk a mate for all he was worth. This she knew, but without a single creature in sight to test her new gifts, she accepted her last resort to tide her over and plunged the hilt of a paddle between them. Quite as she desired, her round lumps acted of their own accord to suck the invasion in as far as the curving width, the cavern awaiting its reward of hot, gooey seed that wouldn't come. She mused, briefly, at how well the result of a good spanking would go unnoticed on the new pigment to her skin. Valley to her wet, aching sex appropriately pacified, Taki focused on the sweet spot with all she had left.

Grunts forced out tiny slivers of spirit taint, pushing her to harder thrusts to get another sample of what she had become. It was here, at the crest of another orgasm, where she found another truth that only acting on her demon nature could reveal. The mask that covered her blood red face copied her foster father's gift precisely, every curve and crook. It was protection, that much remained correct. But with her claws buried in her slit, Taki learned: it was to protect humans from her.

It was a seal, and a warning. On the fateful day she fell to her heritage, the mask would confine her sharp fangs and infernal tongue behind a cage of wrought iron imbued with spirit power. The dense mouth fog from her damned lungs burst out in small clouds, ninja magic converting the sex toxin into a harmless mist through the mask's slit. The seductive art of slut speak lost its potence the second each filthy word left her whorish mouth. Her victims, rather than fall to their knees at the sound of her voice, would watch as the double-edged gift from Master Toki turned one facet of Taki's powers against her.

Body swamped with arousal, her jaw dropped to its imposed limit as she moaned and came. Fanning a hand over her red tits, she set Battledore in proper place and stood, allowing her corrupted maw to drip free on the raft. Her ass expertly swayed for appeal as she stepped to the far end. Claw rubbing her lower lip, she nearly giggled, entire body sizzling with lust and clouding her environs with her sex steam as she mewled in disappointment. "That didn't satisfy me at all."

Her priorities scrambled by her many objectives, she honed in on a single path that made her pussy gush. In the deepest pit of her fuming cunt, Taki knew through her desires what she needed to break the hold of her mask, depravities unthinkable in her human form. She could sense him, a man who would know what it took with one look at her past complexion. Tan skin, dark eyes, a buxom figure and an opening in her mask just wide enough to accommodate. She leapt from the raft, ready to begin her search for the one who could bring her salvation.