\begin{Verbatim}[commandchars=\\\{\}]
/////Bizarre Bazaar entry if corruption too low.
[Fight] [Blowjob] [Leave]
///Blowjob. \PYZdq{}What man on Mareth can\PYZsq{}t be convinced by a little fellatio?\PYZdq{}
The red\PYZhy{}skinned guard [if (height \PYZlt{} 115) \PYZob{}looms over you, one so much smaller than his prodigious size|eyes you, a [man] so comparable to his stature\PYZcb{}]. His posture is still as stone, his expression inscrutable.

[say:Leave at once,] he repeats, voice deep and slow. [say:This is no place for your inhibition.]

Undeterred, you step closer, smelling some exotic spice in his tunic, close enough to brush your fingers along the thin fabric of his trousers. His brow raises. A light touch, an insinuation on its own, is followed by your [hand] trailing higher, toward his groin. Your gaze flicks upward, and you offer another reason he could let you through.

For a long moment, he doesn\PYZsq{}t react. His eyes, nearly as black as onyx, remain on your face, as though searching for deceit or mockery. [say:You are not yet ready,] he iterates yet again, but then drops his tone quieter. His hand shifts, loosening the tie at his waist. [say:But perhaps you may learn.]

The pants, airy and thin as they were, flutter down his legs, unveiling a heavy, crimson length already half\PYZhy{}hardened by your touch. He lets it sway in front of your face as if daring you to flinch. You steel your resolve, not shying away, only pressing on and slipping your [tongue] across the length. His cock pushes against your cheek as it rises to a full erection.

The caravan\PYZsq{}s guard [if (hasHair) \PYZob{}curls his fingers into your [haircolor] locks|clasps his large hand on your head\PYZcb{}] firmly, but not rough. He guides your mouth onto his dick and it parts your lips wide, but proportionally to his body, this girthy cock isn\PYZsq{}t that impressive. It sinks in further, the flavor coating every taste bud, carrying some lingering hint of strange foods that must waft around from the stalls and so forth beyond. The flavor then ceases as his dick has gone far enough that you can\PYZsq{}t breathe through your nose anymore. Still, he pushes in further. The guard groans and his stance shifts as his composure begins to falter. His grip tightens just slightly as he sinks deeper, testing how much of him you can take.

[say:You show promise,] he breathes, voice trembling with restraint. His hips begin to roll in small, deliberate motions. At this size, maybe some would struggle, but he\PYZsq{}s remarkably gentle.

However, it doesn\PYZsq{}t take long before his control slips entirely. The red giant thrusts his hips, his waist hitting your nose, and an unflattering grunt escaping you. You hold onto his muscular legs for some kind of control of this, but he drags himself out halfway and then fucks your throat once more, all in spite of your instinctive attempts at slowing down. His scimitars clink and shuffle as he fucks your throat yet again. Surely whoever pays him to stand guard is going to notice him doing this\PYZhy{}\PYZhy{}he\PYZsq{}s [if (metric) \PYZob{}three meters|ten feet\PYZcb{}] tall! Nevertheless, he plows into your esophagus like he could impregnate it! Drool and spittle coat his length and drip down your chin, cooling in the breeze.

With a final thrust and a guttural growl, he expends himself down your gullet. You swallow without flinching\PYZhy{}\PYZhy{}hardly even able to taste it with how deep his meaty tip is\PYZhy{}\PYZhy{}and meeting his gaze the whole time. When it\PYZsq{}s over, he takes a slow breath and adjusts his garments with deliberate care. His expression hasn\PYZsq{}t softened, but there is a flicker of something new in his eyes.

[say:Welcome to the Bizarre Bazaar,] he says at last. [say:Enter, but be mindful of your actions within.]

You clear your throat, adjust yourself, and take a breath.
\PYZob{}++corr +lib ++lust +satiety\PYZcb{}
[Next] //enter bazaar
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