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As for those of you who just read that content warning like a shopping list, repeat after me: The corn man can be a hot guy, but the corn man is not a good guy. We don’t want to date the corn man, ok? Ok.
In fact, she couldn’t even say with an honest face that they were a couple at all. They were more of a collision -- all bad ideas and bad timing coming together into an ultimately very hot but very disastrous combination.
He was fuckable. He was definitely fuckable. Yet at this moment if Liz could have crawled over to the pumpkin patch and fashioned a pile of dirt into her immediate and personal shallow grave, she might have.
…and he’s living underground, Liz. Like some scary fucking mole man with translucent skin. He probably eats raw fish from the river. And now that’s what you are! You’re just a big slimy fish for him to…
He sat down on the giant arm chair, dwarfing it in comparison with his sheer bodily girth.
Liz blinked. “So, you’re, what? A leaf…guy?” “That’s not the correct term.” “Then what am I supposed to call you?” “You’ll call me ‘Daddy.’”
Liz wasn’t repulsed. Clearly, she wasn’t repulsed. The kidnapping thing still bothered her, but this whole situation had become pretty weird overall. Maybe in the bigger scope of things, a little kidnapping, when paired with the mystical presence of a hulking corn man, wasn’t such an unusual tradeoff.
“It’s time for me to take a queen. Beings like me, we’re a solitary lot. We keep these comfortable dens until it’s time to mate. This is the most fertile time for me, and I must choose a bride and produce a hearty crop for next season.”
She was desperately horny and hanging naked from a crucifix made of cornstalks. This day had certainly taken a turn.
Liz knew all the things that looked like red flags, but it was kind of different this time. This was a corn man.
She wasn’t seriously considering it. Of course, she wasn’t seriously thinking about becoming his corn queen. That would be insane.
She dropped the cob into boiling water, because today was not the day that she would get vaginal worms, thank you.
Maybe this is too weird?
She stopped and considered the literal corn cob inside her body with the momentary clarity of a sober, unaroused person.
He owed her this orgasm. She was entitled to legal cum-pensation!
“Go on then. Shuck me.”
It was the sheer girth of his cob,
He tasted like sweet summer sunshine.In fact, he tasted just like… “…butter?” Liz asked.
“Yes, corn Daddy.”
The butter cum was hot inside her, and there was so much of it.
Liz’s corn had been successfully creamed.
As cadaver dogs sniffed overhead, Liz leaned into her corn man and playfully twirled one of his chest leaves. His sprawling arm casually draped itself around her belly, swollen with little swimming cornlettes.
