CoC: Corruption Pump - Day 4 - Part 1: Preparations
Story by NaughtyThorn on SoFurry
Kora prepares to confront the challenges of Mareth.
I woke to the morning sun at the edge of my camp feeling sore, but rested and full. Cleaning up my mess I closed up the lower straps of my armor. <Only here would they design armor so easy to get fucked in.> I found tied to my bandoleer a small pouch with 15 gems and a wax paper wrapped brownie. On the wrapper was a simple note: ‘Thank you, cum again.’ The message served only as a shameful reminder of the dirty deeds I had both participated in, and which were done unto me against my will. However, surely the money and the food I had eaten... food?
Demonic body fluids were both corrupting and transformative according to Whitney. I had not asked whether or not other beings fluids could be transformative as well. Aside from the slight bulge of my belly, which was reducing at a noticeable rate, I appeared unchanged.
<He said it was protien, I sure hope his fluids are as nourishing as normal foods. Perhaps he could keep providing transformation free meals for me?> I was shocked, horrified even, at how easily such a lewd thought came to mind.
Looking upon the central phallus, er, rock, of the camp I saw that some of the images I had mistaken for demons were transformed people like I had seen at the city. One of them, a mouseman, seemed to be dressed in white robes like those from the temple back home as he sat on what appeared to be a depiction of this very rock, religious items all about him and his little carpet.
Examining its surface I saw small grooves that formed a crude ladder. Attempting to climb I found they lacked surface area enough to support me. I removed the large metal boots and pulled out my dirks. Using them to simulate the narrow fingers of the rodent I assumed had made the grooves I climbed, but near the top it grew too narrow still. I was able to see something on top of the rock, probably the carpet the monk had once sat upon while keeping vigilant watch over the camp.
I stowed the dirks, leapt from the rock face and grabbed the overhanging latic. Crying out in pain I learned that its thorns were not only of the large variety I had seen from the ground, but also miniscule and razor sharp. Holding on with one hand I pulled out some bits of leather and used my teeth to wrap it around my free hand, then did the same for the other. Thus prepared I continued back toward the rock, hand over hand, pulling myself along the strange structure which protected the camp from aerial assault.
I swung my legs up and secured my place atop the phallic head. The carpet was elaborately embroidered, probably the most valuable object the monk had owned. But of greater import was what the embroidery displayed. Following the instructions I sat, crossed my legs, and held out my hands. Clearing my thoughts I could feel the sexual influence of the realm loosen its hold on my mind and body. Looking out upon my camp I no longer saw everything in a sexual light, even the meditation and observation pillar looked less like a giant cock and more like a holy shrine. This made me feel much better about shimmeying down what I had previously seen as its enormous girth.
Just as surely as the magic of the carpet aided in this meditation I could sense that the hardship of getting to it had prepared me to receive it, so simply bringing the carpet down would do no good. Furthermore, I could feel that its power would only aid me but once per day, to meditate more I would need to learn to perform the techniques unaided.
Feeling ready to face demons I doned the large boots once more and approached the weapon racks. The large axe and hammer were each far too heavy to lift, let alone to wield. Ignoring such useless weapons as the riding crop and the lead pipe, I donned a single spiked gauntlet in my off hand, attached several wingsticks to my back, the whip to my hip, and contemplated the remaining weapons. Keeping the dirks I figured I could only carry one more without encumbering myself. Claymore was out of the question without ditching other stuff, and the staff appeared useless for my needs. It came down to the Katana and the spear, both excellently crafted weapons with long histories in my own world. With further contemplation, I felt the spear’s combat style required more agility than my current accoutrements would allow should I face a fast opponent. Settled in my choice of armaments I set out once more into the barrens.