Corrupted

The shadow-creatures. The denizens of the dark.

For as long as humanity has existed, a subset of the population has been aware of the malformed beings of evil that lurk around every corner. Their only desire is to eradicate humans and turn the mortal realm into their playground, but as long as the Warriors of the Light exist, they have sworn to prevent that - no matter the cost.

As technology has progressed, fewer and fewer profane places have existed for them to spew their evil magic from. As a result, the Warriors lessen in numbers, until the year 2013, when there are only a handful left. From a central bureau in France, instructions are sent out, leaving the Warriors able to act autonomously as they heroically move from country to country, striking down these demons wherever they rear their ugly heads.

###

For the past three days, Christa Quan had been traveling through the Roman countryside. Unlike most Warriors, she was able to make her own schedule: a relatively new recruit to the cause, she'd been given a shared jurisdiction. The intent was to allow her to learn at her own pace, never rush in exhausted or grow overwhelmed by the tasks she faced.

She had been a Warrior of the Light for almost ten years now, so she knew that soon she would be given a continent of her own to protect. Until then, she enjoyed the leisurely pace of her duties - rather than catch a taxi straight from the airport, she'd allowed herself to walk all the way to the Tiber.

Her mission was clear: the bureau had heard rumors of an ancient Pagan tomb (adjacent to the River Tiber) where the god Epona had begun resummoning its strength, preparing for yet another bid to take over the world of man.

Not if I can help it, she thought with a cocky grin.

Christa normally had no idea where the bureau got its information, but she'd dealt with Epona and her acolytes before, and the first step was always the same: for Epona to return, she needed blood.

Gallons and gallons of fresh horse blood. If unusual reports of slaughtered horses begin to hit the grapevine, odds are pretty good that Epona is involved.

Standing outside the reported temple site, Christa weighed up her options. It had been a long day of walking, but she was used to that - Christa enjoyed walking, and it was something she was going to miss when she was given her own territory to protect.

Walking was a solitary pursuit. She didn't get the stares, the questions, the assumptions. The outfit that her work as a Warrior required was not typical garb for the Roman countryside, and she would rather walk for three days than take a taxi and be subject to an hour of small talk and questions about her suit, her appearance, her heritage.

Her father was Asian and her mother had been Hawaiian, which had given her a gorgeous complexion and meant that no one could ever place where she was from - not that it stopped every man she ran into from guessing, of course. She unwillingly drew their attention not only from her face and unusual mode of dress, but from the bane of her existence: the double-d's she wore on the front of her chest.

They got in the way during combat, they made running more difficult, and - worst of all - they were (she was sure) the reason that every man she ran into insisted on stopping and having a conversation with her. "What's your name?" "Where are you off to?" "Why are you dressed like that?"

No, fighting the forces of evil was a solo venture, and Christa liked it that way. She'd never had a romantic or sexual partner - during her time in the academy, one of her instructors had clearly shown an interest, and Christa had spent a few restless nights thinking about her teacher, but nothing had come of it and so Christa had focussed on what she was best at - smiting demons.

At just over five feet high, Christa had almost been rejected as a Warrior. But her incredible hand-to-hand skills had won the bureau over, and her fierce intelligence had been a bonus. She could speak four languages fluently, had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the ancient gods who still had active influence in the world, and had dedicated her entire life to fighting evil.

On some level, she knew she was attractive - her work kept her fit, and her arms and legs had a sinewy strength to them. Had she tried to be a Warrior five hundred years ago, she would never have been accepted, but the days of swinging around broadswords were long gone. Everything she needed to get the job done could now be carried in a light backpack, and so her training regime focused more on flexibility than brute strength.

She had everything she needed for a good night's rest. She could sleep, wake up, and fight Epona at full strength.

But who knew what stage of the transition Epona was in? Those few hours could be the difference between "puddle of horse blood" and "goddess of fertility" - and Christa knew which one she would much rather do battle with.

A steely expression crossed her face as she pulled out her favorite sword. Different demonic forces require different materials to smite, but when she wasn't sure exactly what she was going to be facing, Christa always resorted to Darkslayer - like Frodo's "Sting" or a Jedi's lightsaber, it emitted a strong glow. It ensured that she could see the path ahead, but that wasn't why it was her first choice - it made her feel connected to the thousands of Warriors of Light who had come before her.

It made her feel like she belonged.

Holding Darkslayer in front of her, Christa opened the door, and began her trek into the darkness of the pagan temple.

###

There's a very short list of things that truly terrify a demon. They do not fear death, loneliness, or fear itself. They fear punishment - not from mortals, or the Warriors of the Light, but from their Gods. If you worship the God of Pain, spending months - or years - working towards his resurrection, and you fail him in any way, the wrath that he can unleash makes any human punishment seem like a mild tickling.

But as Christa Quan, Warrior of the Light slew her way through the half-horse, half-abominations that Epona calls her servants, a new item was added to that very short list: the look on her face as she raced towards the Goddess of Fertility herself.

"You've gone too far," she hissed, killing half a dozen demons without blinking an eye. "This. Is. Not. Okay."

In response, Epona just cackled.

"Foolish mortal," she screeched, and Christa would have rolled her eyes if they weren't busy making sure she didn't get overrun by the horse creatures. Gods were always so dramatic. "You don't understand - I am the God of Horses. Their souls were always mine!"

Until that day, Christa didn't realize how accustomed she'd grown to evil having standards. She'd seen towns full of slaughtered innocents, bodies defiled in every way imaginable, and families torn apart - and made to watch each other's torture.

But the understanding had always been that the soul was different. The soul was sacred. Once you die, your mortal body stays on Earth, and your soul passes through to the afterlife.

As soon as she'd entered the temple's main chamber, Christa had sensed something was up. Darkslayer had begun glowing in a way that she'd never experienced before, and rather than rush into battle, Christa had spent almost half an hour sneaking around, trying to work out what was amiss.

And that was when she'd seen it. Epona wasn't just slaughtering the horses and taking their blood; no, she was peeling away their very souls, and weaving them into her new bodies.

The horses would die, but they would find no rest. Rather, they would spend the rest of existence as part of her ghoulish form - whenever Epona was slain, they would live the pain with her. Whenever she killed, their souls would be tarred.

It was grotesque, and Christa couldn't let it stand.

She'd thrown subtlety out the window, and headed straight for the God, slaying anything and everything that stood in her way. Her Master could have stepped in front of her, and he would have fallen to her sword.

What Epona was doing was wrong, and Christa swore that she would make the Horse Goddess pay for it.

When she reached the centre, however, Epona held up her soul-woven hand, and her servants fell back. Christa suddenly realized she was in unexplored territory - they'd learned about the power that could be wrought from soul-powered magic, but she'd never experienced it first-hand. She'd hoped she would never have to.

"Perhaps your soul would like to join them," the half-formed God hissed, and Christa shuddered at the thought. Her training had prepared her for death, but nothing could train you for an eternity of servitude, involuntarily powering whatever God killed you.

Soul-magic was frowned upon even by the most evil of gods, and if the bureau had known this was what Epona was up to, she knew they would never have sent her alone. But this was not time to question herself - she needed to take Epona down now, before her power could grow any more.

The look of anger returned, and some of the more sensitive horse-beasts turned away. With a mighty roar Christa charged, holding Darkslayer above her head. Epona, even in her half-formed state, towered above the young woman, easily twice her size, but Christa was undaunted.

She approached the dark figure, and as she swung her sword into Epona's tree trunk of a leg, was shocked to see it shatter as it made contact.

"No," she whispered, dropping the hilt in shock.

"You have no idea of my powers, little girl," the God jeered, and Christa forced herself to reach into her bag and pull out Silvera, the silver sword typically reserved for the undead.

"It's not going to be that easy," Epona said as she tried desperately to hack away at the God's almighty limbs.

Silvera didn't shatter, but it also didn't make a dent. A booming laugh filled the cavern, followed immediately by the braying laugh of Epona's servants, and Christa realized the God was toying with her.

"You will pay," she muttered, pausing to put the tip of Silvera against Epona's leg and then pushing with all her might.

She was rewarded with a wail of pain, as the sword deeply penetrated the half-formed deity's leg. Before she could withdraw it again, Epona reached down and swatted her to the side, and Christa suddenly found herself halfway across the room, watching in a daze as Epona pulled the sword out and threw it aside.

As Christa got up and began running back into the fray of the battle, Epona reached into the pool of souls, and with a flick of her inhuman wrist, propelled one towards Christa. It hit her suit - to her surprise, it didn't bounce off, but instead slowly slid down the latex, settling between her legs.

The room suddenly grew dark, and Christa realized that she was now in completely unexplored territory. She could feel her consciousness slipping away from her.

"No," she mumbled, as her knees hit the floor. "You...you can't..."

"Farewell, my sweet Warrior," Epona gloated.

Before completely falling prey to whatever Epona had done, Christa reached around to the back of her pack. With the last of her strength, she pounded the bottom of the bag twice, as hard as she could.

As she passed out, Christa heard a loud boom and the anguished wails of a thousand horse-demons and their god.

###

Christa woke up.

This, she realized, was more than she deserved. She'd encountered the most powerful magic known to any Realm, and rather than hang back and call for backup, she'd let rage overtake her, and marched in.

She should be dead. No, worse - she should be stripped of her soul, forced to know that she was doomed to forever be a pawn to an evil God. And not just any God, but one so low as to use soul-magic.

Instead, she was in a room that smelled of horses. Horses and another smell that she couldn't quite place - it smelled salty, almost. Sweaty, perhaps.

Pulse bombs were a rarely-used tool in the Warriors of Light arsenal. In the decade she'd been fighting evil, Christa had never needed to use one, and in the 60 years that he'd been part of the guild, neither had her Master.

They were invented in the mid-30s - they weren't fatal, but they emitted a pulse that demons found unbearable. Christa had seen footage of an Apollic Demon, trapped in a cage while a pulse bomb had gone off. Unable to escape, it had resorted to tearing its own eyes out, ripping its ears off, and eventually pulling out its own heart.

The moment it went off, every demon in the room would have fled for the exit, including Epona. The bombs were harmless to some humans, and caused an instant, painful death in others - Warriors were instructed to use it only in the most dire of straits, as it could result in the death of innocent people...and perhaps the Warrior themselves.

Christa was exceptionally glad to learn that she was one of the people unaffected by the bombs, but a painful death was a sacrifice she would have been willing to make. An eternity as an indentured soul was infinitely worse.

Sitting up, she immediately noticed two things. Firstly, the pool of horse souls was empty. Presumably Epona had found the strength to scoop them up as she left - probably for the best, because Christa had no idea what she would have done with them.

Secondly, there was a huge cock between her legs.

For the next few minutes, Christa stared in shock at the fleshy new appendage. A few things quickly became clear: it wasn't just a stray phallus. It was connected to her...no, not just "connected".

It was a part of her.

She could see it throbbing slightly with her heartbeat - the veins on the side pulsating as the heart coursed through her body. More than that though, she could feel it. There was a slight draft in the chamber of souls, and along with feeling it on her forehead and exposed hands, she could feel it on her...

On her new cock.

Her training as a Warrior of the Light had been extensive and detailed, but she was certain that it had never, ever mentioned spontaneous growth of a huge phallus. Was this a side-effect of the pulse bomb? She knew there was a chance that she would be killed, but no one had ever mentioned an equine erection being one of the risks.

No, this was something more than that.

This was the work of Epona.

Christa went to stand up - as she did, her new appendage swung slightly to the side, brushing against her leg.

The moment it made contact with her latex suit, the young woman fell backwards in shock. Her eyes closed, and her entire body shuddered in pleasure.

It felt good. No, more than that - it felt great.

Christa had explored her body before. Being a Warrior was a lonely vocation, and she'd spent many nights left with nothing to entertain her but her mind...and her hands.

When she was turned on, she'd learned that her skin was oversensitive, particularly her breasts, but also that there was no limit to the abuse her nipples could take. She could pull on them so roughly they were at risk of coming off and never grow tired of it.

After climax, however, she'd learned that they were so oversensitive that just looking at them felt like it hurt. The gentle breeze of a hotel's air conditioner was almost too much to take, and if she ventured forth to actually touch them, she would uncontrollably squirm with pain.

Pain and arousal.

The unwanted gift that Epona had bestowed upon her, apparently, was similarly sensitive...without the pain. As it brushed against the slick latex that covered her legs, she felt as though her body was filling up with joy.

And when she glanced down, she was alarmed to discover that the extremity between her legs had grown erect.

It's an erection, she thought, almost unable to believe what was happening. I...I have an erection.

To her alarm, as the penis got harder, it became even more obviously a part of her. She was almost overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensations - a sort of hardening and rigidity, an increased sensitivity, a sort of "roar" in the head as blood rushed into it.

It hadn't been obvious when it was flaccid, but the penis - her new penis - was a tannish brown color- except for the head, which resembled an angry mauve mushroom.

Part of her suit had been ripped in the battle, and so as Christa stared, she couldn't help but notice the contrast between her soft femininity, and the new ugly monstrosity growing out from between her legs. Where she was all curves and easy lines, the newest addition to her body was hard, incongruously jutting out, ruining a look that she hadn't even realized that she was proud of.

But what alarmed her the most was the size. As it hardened, it kept growing and growing, get impossibly larger, causing Christa's breath to catch in her throat as the head - her head - moved closer and closer to her wide eyes.

Finally, right before it hit two feet in length, it settled, and Christa was able to exhale in relief.

The size was still alarming, but now that it had stopped growing she could calm down, get a handle on what was happening. She could start to brainstorm a solution, and deal with the situation in front of her.

The huge, throbbing, situation in front of her.

And that was when Christa noticed her tiny hand was wrapped around the base, slowly sliding up and down.

###

No! she mentally screamed. Stop!

But she couldn't.

It was like she'd lost control of her body. All she could do was watch in horror as her soft, feminine hand teased the nightmare that had somehow grown from between her legs.

It felt amazing.

Even as she wanted the torture to end, she wanted more - she wanted to feel a pair of lips around her huge new head, she wanted to find someone to fuck. Human, animal, demon - she didn't care, she just wanted to feel herself sinking into a wet hole, she wanted every nerve in her new cock to be stimulated.

With a pang of guilt, she realized that if her old form was standing in front of her, she would tie herself down and fuck herself without hesitation.

But for now, all she had was her hand, and - even as she mentally willed herself to stop - she was getting as much pleasure from her hand as she could.

The cock was sweaty, and her hand used this sweat as a lubricant, spreading it all around the base. With every stroke, she could feel the slippery skin against her fingertips, against her palm. She could feel it in her hand, and she could feel it in her cock.

The sound of a rock falling caught her attention, distracting her for a moment, and Christa realized that she had to leave the chamber as quickly as possible. Who knew how many alterations Epona had made to the building's structure - it could have been primarily held up by magic, and now that the demon god had left, the whole thing could be on the verge of collapse.

But though the spirit was willing and keen to vacate the temple, her body refused to cooperate. As she focused her attention back onto her hand's unfaltering actions, the Warrior was filled with revulsion.

She wasn't stopping. She couldn't stop. For whatever reason, her hand had decided that getting off was a higher priority than getting out.

And as it got higher and higher on the huge cock, she realized that she couldn't blame it.

She'd cum before, but nothing had ever been like this - nothing had even compared. The pleasure the enormous phallus was providing was unmatchable. She'd had entire masturbation sessions, bringing herself to sweaty orgasm to sweaty orgasm that hadn't been nearly as pleasurable as a single stroke of her soft hand on her new, huge cock.