The Magic Fart (17 page)

That thought made Prior’s flaccid penis twitch. Seducia saw it, and nod ded. She wasn’t just talking; she had an agenda.

They floated over a fourth village. “That’s Sorry Ass, where people go to address digestive complaints, such as inadequate gas in the gut.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Prior agreed, and the Spire emitted a melodious fart.

“Next stop will be Maid-in-Tower,” Seducia said. “Now you can tell me your story, and I won’t touch you as long as it interests me. But when it falters or ends, you’re mine. See if you can hold me off until we arrive.”

So Prior started talking, telling the story of the news of his ideal woman being abducted and in need of rescue. He omitted the details of his penis socket and the Spire. Unfortunately that abridged his narrative, and he ran out of it before the balloon reached Maid-in-Tower.

“Give it to me,” Seducia said, clasping him and closing her thighs around his swelling penis. She pressed her breasts against him and kissed him as her buttocks massaged his member. Meanwhile the Spire let out a silent fart, almost unnoticed.

Prior’s will to resist evaporated. He re-angled his rod and thrust up into her slick tube. On the second thrust he spouted, and he felt her climaxing with him, her whole body convulsing with her passion. It was like wrestling a panther, except that she was not attacking him but stimulating him to further emissions. Their tensing bodies squeezed out their reserves of gas, and they farted almost in unison, thrust by thrust.

Soon they collapsed together, panting. “Oooh, you made me come too, you amazing lover,” she gasped. “That hasn’t happened in eons.”

Prior wondered, as he had not been trying to stimulate her. He had simply responded to his sudden need. She didn’t normally climax in sex? Evidently the challenge was all.
Was that you, Spire?

OF COURSE,
the Spire gouted.
I ISSUED A PHEROMONE FART THAT TURNED HER ON.

“You’re some man, Micro,” Seducia said. “If you don’t get your Tower maiden, I’ll still be around for a few days.” “I’ll keep it in mind,” Prior said. Then it was time to get dressed, for the next village was approaching and the balloon was descending. It had been aimed and filled remarkably accurately; the windmakers clearly knew what they were doing.

The balloon drifted to the ground beside the tower, which was a huge translucent statue of a nude woman whose intestines could be seen within her belly. There was a person in there: the Maiden. He wondered who she was. Well, with luck he would find out tomorrow.

“If you’d like a roommate for the night...” Seducia said, with one of her special hip flirts.

He was tempted, but knew he needed to recover what sexual energy he could overnight. “I’ll never be in condition to rescue the Maiden if I stay with you,” he said.

“Naturally not,” she agreed. “Well, your chances are only one in seven even if you win your day. I’ll be watching.” She turned and walked away, her rear view as intriguing as her front view, as she clearly knew.

He found lodging for the night, ate, and settled down to sleep. But there was something he had to settle with the Spire. “Where do I want you tomorrow?” he asked.

I CAN SEDUCE THE DEMONESS WITH ONE TOUCH,
it responded.
BUT IF YOU HAVE A FART-OFF, I WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP YOU. FARTING FROM YOUR PENIS WOULD DISQUALIFY YOU. BETTER TO KEEP ME IN YOUR COLON.

That made sense. “Fart me into a good sleep,” he said, not depending on nature; he was too keyed up. He heard the faint hiss of gas, then was out. He knew that in the morning he would wake refreshed and potent; the Spire had marvelous powers of restoration. But he also knew that that did not guarantee him any victory.

Chapter 14—Choice

Veil watched the final contestants with a certain unease. One, Micro, was not a large or flashy man, and she didn’t give him much of a chance. The other was a big brute of a man she detested at first sight.

Both seduced the demoness. Brute swung her about and thrust into her repeatedly without climaxing himself, until she yielded. Only then did he suffer his own orgasm. Might, it seemed, made right. Micro was far more sensitive, stroking the demoness and kissing her as if he really cared, working her up. It was of course an act, but Veil much preferred it. The rituals of sex might be scripted, but the urge itself was genuine, and what started as a script could readily become real.

Then the two men faced each other in the farting off. Brute soon wrestled Micro to the floor and positioned his big bare bottom over his face. Micro seemed lost. He was holding his breath, but eventually he would have to breathe.

Then a visible fart squeezed out of his rectum. It formed a small cloud and floated slowly up behind Brute, following his body contours. It expanded as it went, until when it reached head height it was large enough to enclose the man’s head. “It’s a magic fart!” the announcer exclaimed, amazed. “Micro won a magic farting contest in Nude-on-Toilet; he has a remarkable power. But can this prevail before he has to breathe?”

Brute, unaware of the mist closing in around him, did breathe—and fell over unconscious. Micro got to his feet, the winner. Veil was hard put to it not to applaud.

But the victorious underdog could still be a shit. She needed to know, so she could choose between the contestants. “Send Micro up for an interview,” she told the TV.

Micro was just turning, about to return to his lodging, when her sum mons preempted him. She saw his look of surprise. “But I’m not dressed,” he protested.

It didn’t matter. He was borne upward into the tower, up one leg, past the crotch, and to the station at the anus. The sphincter dilated and he stood looking into her apartment. He was mussed and sweaty, looking as if he wanted to be elsewhere. That was fine with her; she could surely get a better measure of him while he was emotionally off-balanced.

“Do come in,” she said, forcing a bit of a fart. “May the farce be with you.”

“And with you,” he agreed, stepping awkwardly in, emitting a meek an swering fart. “I—I’m called Micro. I—”

“I saw,” she said. “You powered your way to victory with a magic fart. It was a remarkable achievement.”

“I do want to meet you,” he said. “But I wanted to clean up and change first. This—I’m not ready.”

“This is merely an interview,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. It felt good to be in control, even to this limited extent. “As you surely know, I am Veil, the Maiden in the Tower. I am required to choose one of the seven daily victors to be my sex slave master for the coming year. I want my choice to be informed.” “Uh, sure, of course. But I wanted to make a better impression.” She smiled, though of course it didn’t show through her shroud. She sat on her high stool opposite him and leaned forward so as to give her bare breasts better definition. She wanted to dazzle him if she could, again with the object of getting honest responses. “Why are you here, Micro?”

His eyes fixed on her breasts, as she had intended. “To rescue you, of course.” She laughed. “Rescue me? I assumed you wanted a sex slave.” “No. I mean, I’m sure that would be nice, but that’s not why I came. I—

I don’t believe in slavery.” This was certainly different. “You don’t even know me. Why should you

want to rescue me?” “I—it’s awkward to explain.” Especially if he was lying. “Make the effort.” “Well, for one thing, where I come from, women aren’t slaves.” “Where do you come from?” “I don’t know whether you’d understand. It’s—it’s beyond Fartingale.” “Try me.” “It’s called America. It—” “America!” “It’s like this, only with less, uh, farts. Not much magic at all.” “I know. I’m from America.” He stared at her veil. “You’re from home!” “I was abducted and brought here, with my son.” “Son?”

“You didn’t know?” Chance was stirring, so she went to the crib, picked him up, and started nursing him. If this turned Micro off, that was something she needed to know. “My son Chance is three months old. So obviously I’m not a maiden in the archaic sense. I can’t think why the beasts who run this ongoing lottery selected me to be their prize of the week. Maybe they didn’t realize I wasn’t alone, and then it was too late to find another. Is that a problem for you?” “I, uh, I’m just surprised. I assumed—” “That the Maiden in the Tower was a true maiden,” she finished for him.

“Normally I’m sure she is. If you’re looking for a virgin, I’m not the one.” “I—I guess it doesn’t matter.” “I can and will fulfill my obligation to be your sex slave, if you are the one I choose. Chance is well behaved, and sleeps more than he wakes. Any delays will be of short duration.”

“No, I mean I guess you’re the one, with or without a baby. It just takes some adjusting.” “The one for what?” “Well, I was told my—my ideal woman was captive, and I had only a

week to rescue her. So I got on it immediately.” This was curious. “Who told you that?” “It doesn’t matter. I believed it.” He was being evasive. “Who?” “A—a succubus. A magical creature who—” “I am familiar with the term. You had relations with a female demon,

before you came to Fartingale?” “Uh, yeah,” he said, staring at his feet. “Obviously you do not have a regular woman in your life.” “Yes, I don’t.” “So you thought you’d like to have a sex slave for a year.” “No! I mean, sure, I’d like that, but that’s not—” “Not why you came here,” she finished. “I believe we have already covered that territory. So the succubus told you where there was better sex to be had, and you decided on a rescue mission.”

“I guess it does sound sort of stupid. Maybe it’s a cruel hoax I fell for. I just thought—if it really was my ideal woman, how could I not try to save her, somehow?”

He seemed sincere. She softened. “At least you had to investigate the situation.” “Yeah.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor. “So am I your ideal woman?” “Well, I don’t know. In appearance, sure.” “You can’t even see my face.” He blushed. “Apart from that, I mean. And I don’t know your personal

ity. So probably I shouldn’t have come here.” He seemed to be an ordinary, fallible man, with some exceptions. He was from her homeland, which counted for a lot. But that raised a serious question. “How is it you have the ability of magical farting?” “I—can’t explain that.” “You’re being evasive.” “Yes. I’m sorry.” Curiouser and curiouser. “You mean you could explain it, but you won’t.” “Yes.” “How do you expect to win my favor if you aren’t candid with me?” “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m not the brightest bulb on

the chandelier.” She smiled again, though the expression was wasted. “Somehow you got hold of a magical ability and used it to get you here. Now you want to take me home with you.”

“Yes, if you want to come.” He shrugged. “I know there’s not much chance.” “We could be totally incompatible.” “Yes, I suppose the succubus would really laugh if she got me hooked to

the wrong woman. But I guess it’s a gamble I’m ready to make.” “Because I have a good figure?” “That, too.” Yet he was from her homeland. If she went with him, she could go home immediately. That truly tempted her. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?” “I’m a file clerk.” “You expect to maintain a family on that level of pay?” His eyes had strayed upward. Now they fell to the floor again. “I guess

not.” “You know there’s no market for magic farts where you live.” “No more farting,” he agreed. “Were I to choose you, we might be better off remaining here in

Fartingale, where you seem to have some renown as a farter.” “I don’t want to stay here.” “But back in America, I would have to support you.” He flushed. “I guess I see the joke. Maybe you’re my ideal woman, but

I’m not your ideal man. I guess I’ve made a real fool of myself.” He had, yet there was something endearing about it. There were worse things than being with a man she could manage. As a sex slave, she would have to support whatever man she selected, at least for a year. In that sense, Micro was no worse than the others.

Veil suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to follow up on her riddle challenge. None of the other contestants had mentioned it, and this one might not even know of it. Perhaps now it would help her make her decision. “Where can you walk south a mile, east a mile, north a mile, and be back where you started?” Micro smiled. “I’ve heard that one. The north pole.” “Agreed.” Now she sprang the second riddle. “Where else?” “That one really stumped me when I heard it. I talked it over with my friends, and we finally figured it out: draw a one mile circle around the south pole, then start from a mile north of that. That will do it. Or draw a half mile circle, and walk twice around it, and back.” He glanced at her hood. “Is this supposed to be a test? Because if it is, I flunked it. I know the answer only because my friends figured it out, and I remember.”

So much for selection. Yet his candor appealed. “Tell me a story that will make me laugh.” If a demoness could be won over by a man who made her laugh, maybe it would be true for a captive Maiden. “You like storytelling?” “Sometimes.” He pondered a moment, then obliged. “There was this famous, arrogant bachelor celebrity. A friend came to him and said ‘Hey, Hal, I’ve set up the perfect date for you.’”

Veil listened as Chance nursed, letting her mind get into the story so it seemed she was seeing it first hand. She pictured herself as the date, mentally substituting her own name for the one in the story. Hal was interested. ‘Who is she?’ ‘She’s called Veil. She’s really a great girl.’ Hal was suspicious, because his so-called friends were always trying to fix him up with stray women whose faces and figures were not their fortunes. For some reason they thought that the best women for him were intellectual types. ‘So how did this great date get set up?’ ‘Well, that doesn’t really matter. You’ll like her, believe me.’ ‘It matters. What brings her here?’ His friend fidgeted, then grudgingly came out with it. ‘She entered this contest, and she did really well, but she didn’t actually win. So she got the consolation prize: a date with you.’ ‘Consolation prize!’ Hal exclaimed, outraged. ‘Me?’ ‘It’s not how it sounds. When she learned who you are, she was all for it.