The Chronicles of Altomaar

Story by Kizul Emeraldfire

I figured I'd been lurking and leeching and stuff enough, and felt it was time to contribute. ^_^ So without further ado, I present my first finished attempt at any sort of smut — enjoy. :)

WARNING!

This story contains explicit, unspeakable acts with CORN, and cooking with ‘special’ ingredients. That said — if you are of legal age (and you should be), and also don’t get grossed out by this sort of thing — enjoy! :)

“Rise and shine!”The man who spoke threw open the curtains.“Mmm…” Shiela pulled the blankets up over her head.“I said, wake up,” the man said. When he didn’t get a response, he took hold of her ankle and started to pull. “Up you get now!”Knowing she wasn’t wearing anything, Shiela quickly decided to comply. “All right, I’m up! I’m up!” Feeling him let go of her ankle, she turned over onto her back, uncovering her smiling face. “Good morning, Grandpa.”“Ah, there you are, Shiela! Good morning,” Shiela’s grandfather grinned. “I have some business to take care of outside of the village, so I won’t be back for about a week. I’ve put a large cauldron of stew on to cook for you, so don’t forget to mind it. I’ll see you when I return. Goodbye Shiela.”“’Bye Grandpa!”She waited for her grandfather to close the door before rising to her knees, turning to the window as she reached for her hairbrush.Shiela was sixteen years old and little over five feet in height, with light creamy skin (though she had a few freckles on her face). Her grandpa had been taking care of her ever since her parents had died when she was about four or five. At least she had been able to take her baths by herself — it had helped her keep her secret from being discovered by her grandpa — the secret that she was a hermaphrodite.She kneeled by the window, brushing her strawberry-blonde hair while she watched the birds flit about in the trees beyond.Living with her grandfather wasn’t bad. She’d learned a lot, like how to cook various dishes (mostly stews), how to clean and mend things. But after doing most of this for several years, she’d started to tire of doing these mundane tasks.Such as it was that when she was almost thirteen, she managed to convince one of the blacksmiths in the village how to swordfight. Of course, she knew that she couldn’t let her grandpa know that she was practicing how to use a sword, but he got suspicious when she’d sometimes come home covered in soot, and so it was that he found out. Much to her surprise, however, he allowed her to keep training and even encouraged her to keep improving.Presently, she put her hairbrush down and stretched, looking down at her crotch. Her milk-chocolate length was mostly soft, her morning wood having mostly worn off while she was reminiscing about the past, but she was getting hot as it started stiffening again under her gaze.Shiela stopped stretching and smiled, then started stroking her member, which twitched from the added stimulation as it hardened further.She got off her bed, slowly pumping her cock as she walked to the fireplace, where she lifted the large cauldron off the hook it used to stay suspended over the flames, carefully placing it onto the hearthstones in front of the fire. Shiela had placed some hooks in the ceiling directly above this spot, for the specific purpose of ‘seasoning’ the soup, stew, or whatever else happened to be in the cauldron at the time.Shiela put the pothook beside the hearth and walked to the woodpile to the left of the fireplace, her member bobbing and swaying as she moved, taking an old wooden ladder and placing it next to the cauldron of stew. She then went to her bed and lifted up the mattress, taking a harness made with ropes and soft leather from beneath it, then climbed the ladder and fastened loops of rope over the hooks above the cauldron of still-bubbling stew.Stepping off the ladder, Shiela made her way to several mostly-filled barrels that stood in a corner to the right of the fireplace, containing a variety of vegetables and fruits. She bent over a barrel that was in her way and reached into the one farthest in the corner, pulling out a long, fat ear of corn. Shiela slid it between her legs and rubbed it against her folds, lubricating the corn as well as she could with her juices, which were beginning to drip down her legs. She shivered a little from the bumps of the kernels as they glided over her most sensitive parts.When the ea

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