1.47 – Rise

Spoilers below.

Because of the content category, I'll describe the entire thing. Sex zombies. It's not intended in an erotic way, but I wanted the tone to be slightly comedic, or a parody of zombie films. So they're not *rape* zombies, but they are sexual harassment or public indecency zombies, at the least. If you're sensitive to that kind of thing, you may want to skip ig. And there will be longstanding consequences of this event, as there would be if they were zombies that killed and ripped chunks of flesh off, instead.

The line is generally drawn before touching, and basically based around not going beyond what the affected individual would consider truly reprehensible. The proceeding chapters in this arc may have a brief mention of the people who had a looser moral standard being jailed, idk, I haven't written it yet.

Subjects more taboo than that won't be mentioned, and did not happen.

Also, a continuation of Maple's drug-like, addictive, dangerous skill.

Maple woke up in Sasha's bed the next morning, her compatriots in cum still next to her. She had disabled the Skill in her sleep at some point, thank god, and holy fuck. It had been a trap after all, one that none of them had had the willpower to resist.

More than one area was swollen, or rubbed raw—both, in all likelihood. There might be permanent damage. She was dehydrated and hadn't eaten much. Her portable shower was passed out, inoperable, leaving Maple covered in a layer of sweat and grime. She felt like shit.

Neither Emma nor Sasha fared better, and she'd probably have to apologize once they woke. Because on top of everything else, it was her fault—always her fault—when the Skills their dumb world forced onto her backfired. I never wanted this.

Even now, the itch to keep going persisted. She could go until bloody, and still wouldn't want to stop. Okay, maybe not that far, because, she was stopping now. Sasha and Emma were cut off, too.

She had been optimistic about her new Skill, for once, and what had it gotten her? Pain and addiction. She'd been ripped off, and now didn't even have her usable [Lesser Enhanced Pleasure].

"I hate this stupid world. I'm doing everything I can to get a new class, starting today."

...Just as soon as she could walk without wanting to die. And got some food. Her stomach was beginning to eat itself, but—she couldn't. At least not until she was clean enough to be seen, and then she'd tolerate the pain.

Relying on Emma for her hygienic needs wasn't always convenient—or fair, Maple felt, though Emma didn't mind—but the idea of going out in public in her current state, and walking all the way to a bathhouse...

She lay there and waited. How did I end up like this? Stupid [Slut]. Idiot. Dummy. I hate this. Baka... The last one was too silly for wallowing, but Maple whimpered it in her head. The shame of it all was the worst part.

"Ow. Is it over?"

Sasha sat up, groaning, and winced as she inspected herself. And then winced again as she checked out Maple's damage.

"Yikes. Well, I hope we all learned a lesson? I'd give you a speech about the dangers of pleasure doping, but I hope you understand for yourself by now."

"Yeah...Sorry. I didn't know it'd be like that."

All three were naked—Emma a technicality—but Maple was too angry, sad, and ashamed to feel any...shame about her nudity. Sasha shrugged and cowgirl-walked over to her dresser where she pulled out a red vial.

"Eh, it happens. I got a bunch of energy from it—orgones, if you wanted to call it that. But, do not put that Skill on me ever again. Even if—no, especially if I ask you to in the future. I'm not kidding, okay?"

Was that something that just 'happens'? Maple nodded, though.

"Right, okay. I promise. What's that?"

She watched Sasha dab the liquid onto her sorer parts. A healing potion. She knew that, of course, but didn't have any of her own. If she hinted at it...

Sasha took a few seconds to respond.

"What do you think it is?"

"Yeah, but...Mh. Alright."

She couldn't ask for any. Not when their relationship was already so lopsided, financially. She stared at it though, and put on the best damned imitation of Emma's puppy-dog eyes that she could.

Sasha ignored her.

tap. tap. tap.

The sound came from the window. Both of them jumped, and Maple shouted.

"What was that—Sasha, there's a pervert at the window!"

Through a crack in the curtains, she could make out the creepy grin of a Dragonkin. He was shaking slightly and rocking back and forth for some reason—oh, gross. Maple covered herself with a blanket, and yelled again.

"Sicko. Go get him, Sasha! Defend your territory!"

"I'm not a dog. But—ugh, men are the worst."

"Yeah, but it's your inn. Go get him, girl. Attack, attack!"

Maple couldn't say why she was suddenly in a silly mood. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. She cared about the pervert in the window about as much as the Cum Race thing—not much at all, anymore.

Covering herself with the blanket felt perfunctory. It didn't hold a candle to yesterday's blunder and lack of self control. An idea occurred to her.

"Or...give me some of that potion, and I'll go beat him up for you."

In exchange for pain relief, she really would have. Actually, if she could afford enough healing potions, she'd be able to keep using that Skill for as long as she—

Not giving in was difficult. Every other thought told her she was missing out, that she could be experiencing reality as intended—pure bliss.

Sasha tossed the potion over, and Maple flinched, too sore to react in time. It bounced off her, and landed on the bed. She carefully picked it up.

"You only had to ask. They're not that expensive. I'll get a guard to deal with this degenerate."

Maple sat up, and then had another brilliant idea.

"Ooh, wait! Watch this. [Enhanced Pleasure You and Me]."

She activated it through the closed window, and the creep's movements increased until he dropped below the windowsill.

If that seemed more like a reward than punishment—he would keep this experience for the rest of his life. He would never be able to reach that height of pleasure again. He'd search for it, crave it, and never find it. Every moment of his life would feel bland by comparison. On his deathbed, he'll remember this hour as the only time of his life he was truly alive.

That's how Maple felt, anyway. She might be projecting a little, but it did incapacitate him for the time being. Sasha spoke with mild concerned.

"Well, yep, that's a weapon alright. Using it on people indiscriminately would be a crime, so you know. Not that this perv didn't deserve it."

"Oh. Yeah I mean, I wouldn't—not without permission...Or, I guess not at all. This was self defense."

She couldn't even use it for fun. Guilt became her primary emotion again, and she decided to try shaking Emma awake so she could at least get clean. Sasha finished dressing and paused at the door.

"I need a bath after all that. I'll be back."

"Ah, okay. Thanks for the potion."

Sasha left, and Emma hadn't budged from her sex-coma. It seemed now, she was finally exhausted. Maple conservatively applied the healing potion to herself in the meantime.

When she about finished up and was stoppering the bottle, the sudden shrill squeak of glass being rubbed made her jump. She spilled some of it, and looked up in anger.

"Haven't you had enough?!"

What was wrong with this guy? Maple yelled, but all she saw through the window was the flash of a hand. It left a print and trail behind it, from some off-white fluid, before dragging out of view.

Wait, that hadn't been a Dragonkin's claw. There are more perverts out there?

Maple shuddered and considered carrying Emma up to their room. It'd be like carrying a slippery wet sack, weighing at least as much as any adult Human, and that constantly slipped through your fingers. If she had her jar...where was that, anyway?

Probably inside of her, in that area only she could access. Maple shook her some more.

"Babe, wake up. There's perverts outside."

Outside the inn, all throughout Syber and the surrounding hamlets and farms—the city burned...

With lust.

Citizens fled, leaving entire streets abandoned and silent, but for them. The poor souls not yet barricading in somewhere could hear their moans coming from distant alleyways. A stench was beginning to fill the city.

On one deserted street, a loose bulletin note blew across the cobblestone. The ink was smudged, and the paper stained by a mysterious fluid. Its headline: The Horny Walk.

A woman's heel tore a hole through it as she ran down the street. Her long fluffy ears trailed behind her, pointing at—the horde chasing her. They gained on her while calling out obscene acts they wanted to do to her. Or have her do to them.

The red-haired Half-Elf in the group frightened her most; she was stark mad, and stark naked. She repeated the same thing over and over.

"Lick me. Lick me. Lick me. Lick me. Lick me."

The other ruffians at least still used sentences. She stumbled and lost one of her heels. They were catching up. She called out behind her.

"I remember names and faces! I'll sue each and every one of you for harassment! I am a—"

She tripped again and bit her tongue—made a mental note to add that to the damages—and managed to catch herself before falling.

"—very litigious individual!"

She kept running and looked behind her. About half actually gave up and dispersed. Huh, they hardly ever listen to that threat.

The rest then decided lewding each other was easier than sprinting across the entire city and trying to convince her to. But they did it right there in broad daylight!

She didn't understand. That group had been a polite bunch of early-morning bathers. Nothing was out of the ordinary, up until she returned to the lobby to collect their milk glasses—because everyone loved ice cold milk after a hot soak—and there she found them, doing the obscene. It's bad enough when that happens in the baths, but the lobby?

She, of course, demanded they leave. They refused, and instead, insisted she join them. They didn't touch her, but the things they said...The things they were doing to each other...

Karla had to flee her bathhouse. She couldn't believe this was happening in her own town. Where were the guards to regulate it? She could hear more obscene sounds coming from the next street over.

In another area, four adventurers navigated the city, armed with improvised non-lethal weapons. Dort, their Dwarf [Hammerer], now carried a clear crystalline phallus. If you squinted at the sight, it was because of the blinding sun reflecting through it.

"I sure hope you clean these. My hammer's never hurt no one I didn't mean it to."

He carried two more attached to his belt. One of wood, and the other of polished stone.

Alas, their Half-Elf with a bow and quiver on her back, grimaced and held her new weapon out at a distance. It was two-pronged.

"I'd ask how our dear Captain even has so many, but—yeah, none of us wanted to know they existed. Let alone touch them."

"It's embarrassing enough without you guys commenting on it the entire time. Trust me, I like this less than you do, but we can't kill them. Also—some of these were expensive. Be careful, please."

Captain Thera two-handed her own sex toy, and all of these weapons were 'her own'. The one she wielded was double-sided, long enough for two. She'd never even had a chance to use it, but now her entire team was looking at it—at her.

They'd finally returned from that tedious assignment they picked up, only to find the city like this. Thera was left with no choice but to pull out half her collection to arm her team against these—sex zombies, or whatever they were.

Her team already thought of her as unhinged, and she played into that a little, but this was going overboard.

The crisis made her remember that one girl they'd met on the road out. The one with the class she wanted for herself. She couldn't remember for sure, but they'd been headed here, hadn't they?

Sylla watched her team and giggled. She was a Lamia, and spared from re-equipping, thanks to already using a staff as her weapon. And thanks to the glowing constructs floating around her; four translucent dildos made up of condensed mana.

[Mancers] like her couldn't make anything they wanted just on the fly, the constructs were empowered by the belief and willpower of their creator. They had to be stabilized fully over the course of weeks or months.

Thera knew that, and made a mental note to tease her about the four different models she had readily available later. Sylla's body coiled around her staff as she spoke.

"Would you be happier if they were actual undead?"

"Yes."

Alas responded immediately.

It was a dark joke—half a town dying to a rogue necromancer was a tragedy that happened, occasionally—but it would have simplified things if that were the case here. There'd be a clear enemy. Something to kill.

As it was, both the town guard and militia were in shambles. Over half were affected themselves. The city was in chaos, and no one wanted to swing a sword at a comrade who was just overly-horny.

"It's better than dying. We'll help out as much as we can. Azure Bond, on me."

"Aye. But I'm quittin' if you turn into one of 'em. You're bad enough as it is."

Dort laughed, falling in with the rest of them as they continued deeper into the city.