The Magic Fart

Chapter 15—Eden

Prior looked around. He was standing in a lush garden replete with flowers, berries, fruits, and nuts. Before him stood Veil, head still hidden in a blob of darkness but otherwise quite naked, holding her baby.

That remained a point of difficulty. He had never dreamed that his ideal woman, if she existed at all, would be a mother. That meant that some other man had had at her first, and there had been enough of a relationship to produce a child. Was that man still around? She acted as if she were free, but it was a question that needed an answer.

“The Garden of Eden,” Veil remarked. “It seems we are honeymooning as Adam and Eve.”

The TV set had spoken of Eden. Obviously this was it. They must have had to clear out the Tower to make room for the next week’s Maiden, who would be similarly put on display to attract contestants. He hadn’t realized that there would be an interim setting.

“I guess so. So we can get to know each other privately.”

“With our privates showing,” she agreed. She looked around.

“Well, I chose you, so now it’s time to deliver. Let me find a place to put Chance down, and I’m yours.”

“I told you, I don’t believe in slavery.”

But his penis thickened, desiring its lodging. He had intended to change to the Spire, but the immediate transition to the interview in the tower had prevented that. He still had Normal on, the nondescript standard model, while the Spire remained in his colon. That gave him considerably less control. Oubliette had told him to touch the Maiden with the Spire, to make her desire him; he hadn’t been able to do that, but had lucked out when she chose him anyway. But if she was really his ideal woman, he didn’t want to alienate her by making her a fucking object before she was interested.

“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing meaningfully at his lifting member.

“I wish I had a fig leaf!”

She laughed, and her breasts quivered in a way that hastened his erection.

“Let me see if I have this straight: your spirit is trying to be decent, but your flesh is rampant.”

“That’s it,” he agreed. He looked around. “Maybe there are some fig leafs, or the equivalent, that we can use to make skirts.” But he saw none.

“There are two ways to handle this,” Veil said. “Discharge your member, or ignore it.”

“I can’t ignore it.”

His way-too-obvious erection was an acute embarrassment, but it refused to subside.

“Then let’s discharge it.” She considered briefly. “I am not entirely ignorant of the ways of men, obviously.”

She glanced at her baby, who was now sleeping in a bed of leaves she had fashioned while talking. “A penis may be discharged by penetration or manipulation. Penetrable orifices are vagina, mouth, and anus.”

“Uh, no. I said not unless you want it.”

“Manipulation it is,” she said. She dropped to her knees before him, took his penis in her hand, and squeezed it. Before he knew it, his seed was jetting in an arc through the air, spurt by spurt. She had made it respond in a way he never had, knowing exactly where and how to press.

“You’ve done this before,” he said, amazed.

She shrugged as she returned to her feet.

“So it seems. Next time it rises, I will abate it another way, if you prefer. The choice is yours.”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, embarrassed. “But I will say that I appreciate your courtesy in not pressing the issue despite your right to do so.” His feelings were mixed. He was glad that she hadn’t freaked out at sight of his involuntary erection, sorry that she hadn’t wanted sex, glad that she had found a way to alleviate the condition, sorry that he had wasted his sperm on the ground, and glad that he had deviously pleased her. She was, it was turning out, some woman.

“I guess we’d better look around,” he said. “Find a way out of here, maybe.”

“I suspect there will be no convenient egress.”

“I guess we’re here to—to get to know each other better. As it was with the real Adam and Eve.”

“To be sure. I wonder whether there is a forbidden tree.”

“Forbidden?”

“One that bears the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil.”

“Oh. Yes. I guess there could be. Maybe we’ll have to eat of it to get out of here.”

“Or to be cast out.”

“Whatever. Let’s look.”

Veil picked up her baby and they browsed through the garden. They sampled the fruit, which seemed to be of every kind, all of it remarkably and tasty. They need never go hungry here.

But soon after eating, Prior found his erection forming again. Veil, too, seemed antsy.

“I believe this fruit has aphrodisiac properties,” she said. “You too? I guess they meant it when they said honeymoon.”

“You still prefer to avoid copulation?”

“I guess I look like a liar, with my dick rising. But I don’t want it unless you do.”

“The desire is upon me, but I confess I prefer to avoid it at this time, simply because I would prefer to know you better. A man can indulge in sex at any time, with any available woman, but a woman prefers to have more of a relationship.”

“So you’re in the same fix I’m in. Your flesh is rampant.”

“Correct. We are in this together. Shall we do the honors for each other?”

“You sure made me spew in a hurry. But I don’t know how to do that for you.”

“I will show you.”

She set the baby down again, sat on a convenient mossy rock, leaned back, and spread her legs.

“Wet your finger.”

He looked around. “No water.”

“With your mouth. Saliva is a fine lubricant.”

Oh. He put his finger in his mouth, wetting it thoroughly. Then he kneeled and peered into her open crevice. The sight made his erection swell valiantly.

“What now?”

“Slide your finger along the channel to the end.” He put the tip in her cleft and slid down to her hole, poking into it. As the warm flesh surrounded his finger, she reached across, touched his penis, and made it geyser. She certainly had the touch.

“Now the other direction,” she said. He drew his finger out and slid it to the other end of the channel. There was a small hooded knob there. “That is the clitoris,” she said. “Stroke it, very lightly.”

He did so, fascinated. First it swelled under his touch. Then she stiffened, breathing faster, and her body quivered. Then she closed her legs on his hand, pinning his finger there, while she writhed with orgasmic pleasure. Her climax took longer than his, but seemed no less intense.

“Kiss me,” she said. He moved his face to hers and kissed her mouth, finding it despite the blob of a hood. Her face seemed normal in that darkness. She met him with considerable passion.

“That was good,” she said. “But maybe we shouldn’t eat more of the fruit.”

“Until we get hungry? Let’s face it, as with the fart food, we’re stuck for it. Eat and abate; we’ll get by.”

They moved on through the warm jungle. Suddenly they came to a stone wall. Rather, it was a sheer cliff, rising a hundred feet or so into the sky. There was no way to scale it; it was, for them, an impassible barrier.

They followed it to the side, eating fruits as convenient. That led to another crisis of desire. This time they didn’t bother to lie or sit down. Veil took hold of his penis and made it jettison its load, and he stroked his finger along her cleft as she stood holding her baby. Soon she clenched her thighs on his hand and shook with her orgasm.

“But you know, there is a more direct way to do this,” she said.

“Yes, but—”

“Let’s agree that in this circumstance sex has no meaning other than the relief of a temporary condition. Once we get out of this conducive garden, we can revert to normal relations.”

That did seem to make sense. “Okay.”

“To make it quite clear, we’ll use the rear position. No kissing.”

That seemed to make sense of a sort. They walked until they came to another boundary. This one was the opposite: a cliff leading downward. It dropped into a dark gulf that seemed to have no other side.

“It must be that Eden is set into the side of a mountain,” Veil said. “Perhaps cut away to make a broad ledge. Thus we can’t go up or down.”

So it seemed.

“We should have known that they wouldn’t let us simply walk away from it.”

“There remains more to explore.”

They cut back into the forest, eating as they went. In due course the fruit got to them again. “So how do we do this, this time?” Prior asked, his member standing.

“You will climax before I do, especially if there is no clitoral stimulation. You will have to slow down.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“This may help.”

She took hold of his penis and pressed a nerve below its base. Suddenly his member went numb, but did not go limp.

“What did you do?” he asked, alarmed.

“It’s merely a temporary nerve block to detune you enough to match my pace. Now slide it in and pump.”

She leaned forward and braced one hand against the trunk of a tree. The other held her baby.

Well, if that was the way she wanted it, he could oblige. Prior set his anesthetized member at her proffered crack and found the entry with his finger rather than the dulled end of his penis. He slid the tip in, made sure of the lodging, and pressed the shaft on after it. Soon he came up against her buttocks. He was all the way in, though he wouldn’t have known from the sensation in his member.

He thrust, and felt some faint response. He pulled out, and pushed in, and got a little more. He repeated, pistoning constantly, and slowly, slowly, the feeling intensified. Then she reacted, her vagina clenching around him, relaxing, and clenching again. She was going into her orgasm, and that helped him, but he still had to pump hard to work it into a climax.

Her orgasm raged like a seizure, exploding around him. She rode his pole, squeezing its length, milking it, seeming almost to suck at it. Maybe there was some suction, as he pulled back his stroke. She worked on him as her orgasm ran its course and faded.

At last he came. He pumped harder yet, sensation returning, and finally, almost painfully, spewed out his substance. It felt as if he were putting a gallon of hard cider into her, though he knew it was merely a spoonful of apple juice.

“Well, that wasn’t easier,” she said. “Maybe we can find another variant, next time.”

They came to a glade that might be in the center of the garden. A single tree stood in its center.

“That would be the Tree of Knowledge,” she said. “Of whose fruit we must not eat.”

So it seemed.

“It’s getting late. We need to find a place to sleep.”

“Anywhere will do,” she said. “There are no hostile bugs or creatures.”

They gathered moss to make a bed, and settled down. The urge was on them again.

“Maybe if you start before me,” he suggested. “So you won’t have to numb me.”

“Good idea. Get behind me, but don’t enter until I tell you.”

She lay on her side, her bottom presented. He saw that she was nursing her baby. Probably that was what she had to do, to keep the child quiet, but merging it with sex was weird.

He lay behind her, his groin not touching. He reached around her hip, found her crevice, and stroked her button. He was getting better at it, and soon she reacted, her body shaking. But she didn’t tell him to enter. Only when she seemed to be well into her orgasm did she gasp “Now!”

He positioned his member and shoved. The first thrust got him all the way inside her, and it was like diving into a storm at sea. Everything was happening so violently that it was hard to tell how much of what he felt was his orgasm and how much was hers. But he must have gotten there, because his organ went limp and he had to withdraw it.

“That was better,” she said. “Some fine tuning, and we’ll have it.”

So it seemed, again. In the night they woke with a mutual urge. “I’ll start myself,” she said.

“Be ready when.” He lay behind her, stroking her fine bottom in the darkness, waiting impatiently.

“Now.”

His penis was ready. He rammed it into the rounded alcove, feeling her channel flex around it, and spurted almost immediately. She was right: the timing was good, and her clenching enhanced his jetting.

“But what about when we don’t get hot together?” he asked.

“Good thought. Actually we don’t have to climax together. When you feel the need, just enter me and do it; I’ll understand. When I have the need, I’ll nudge into you, and you enter, and there should be enough stiffness to enable me to finish mine.”

“Good enough.” They slept again. He had eaten more fruit than she, and as a male was faster to react, so he was the first to wake. He found her posterior in the darkness and set his member carefully in. She remained asleep. There was something special about that, and he proceeded to a powerful orgasm. Then, sated, he slid out and returned to sleep.

At some point he felt her bottom nudging his groin. Oh. He grabbed his penis and held it out, touching her flesh. It wasn’t even hard, but it wedged in. Then, as she embraced it internally, it stiffened, and held while she worked herself off. That was another interesting experience, and gradually the urge built up, and as she finished he went off too, though not strongly.

As dawn approached, he woke to find himself embedded in her again; she must have guided his member while he slept. Her flesh was warm and slick around him, but this time he didn’t build to a climax. He held as firmly as possible while she did. Then, as she subsided, the urge came on him, and he started thrusting on his own. It didn’t work very well, because she was lax after her orgasm, but she held still while he worked his way through it.

They got up. There was a small stream nearby, and they took turns scooping up handfuls of water for splash baths. Then they looked around.

“We’ve got to get away from this fruit,” he said.

“I agree. Sex should be fun instead of forced. We need to let it rest.”

He looked at the central tree.

“I wonder.”

“Let’s do it.” They went to the tree, picked two of its ripe pear-like fruits, and bit into them.

“All is observed,” a voice came from the tree. “This has been part of the show.”

Oops.

“You mean what we’ve been doing, even in the dark?” Prior asked.

A holographic picture formed in the air before them, as if made in daylight. It showed Veil stirring, holding her baby in front, backing into Prior, reaching back to catch his penis and guide it in to the cleavage of her bottom. It continued, taking them through the full sexual sequence. Somehow the camera had gotten in close enough to show the details of the action, including her pink vulva lips as his somewhat flaccid member was moved along the channel and crammed somewhat bendily into the hole. That was answer enough.

“We should have known,” Veil said tightly. “Put the animals in a setting, feed them aphrodisiacs, and watch them perform for the circus crowd.”

“Now you know,” the tree said. “You will no longer be useful as innocent entertainment. Knowledge destroys naturalness. You are therefore expelled from Eden.”

“We’ll be glad to go home,” Prior said. Somehow he doubted it would be that easy.

Chapter 16—Gulf

Veil opened her eyes, wary of what she might find. Her caution turned out to be more than justified: she was in a bleak stony wasteland. Micro was beside her, his eyes still closed. They had been drugged again, and dumped in what appeared to be the gulf they had seen before. They remained naked, as was Chance. There was a sound: an ugly snuffling or oinking. Something was coming.

“Micro,” she said urgently.

He woke. “Where are we?”

“In the gulf, I think. Something’s coming.”

Micro stood, somewhat unsteadily, and looked about.

“Damn.”

“What is it?” she asked, getting to her own feet, holding Chance.

“Pigs. Big ones. They smell us and are coming this way.”

She looked desperately around. There was some scrub brush, but nowhere to go to.

“I’ll try to distract them,” he said. “You get away from here.”

“And leave you to be overrun?”

“Better than both of us getting savaged.”

It became academic. The pigs saw them and charged. They were huge brutes, a boar and a sow, standing two thirds as high as a person. It would be difficult or impossible to outrun them.

“Stand still,” Veil said. “They may not bother stationary targets.”

They stood still. The pigs charged up and stopped. They put their snouts to the human crotches and sniffed, just like unmannerly dogs. Veil was terrified, but remained absolutely still, holding Chance up out of danger, as the boar nudged his snout up between her thighs. The sow seemed to be doing something similar to Micro.

The boar jammed harder. Veil lost her balance and stumbled. She managed to turn, flinging out her right hand to catch her fall as she shielded Chance with her left. She landed clumsily on hands and knees, her baby safe.

And the boar mounted her from behind. She couldn’t scramble away because his forepart was on her, holding her down, while his corkscrew penis rammed into her posterior. It was all she could do to hold her position, so as not to collapse and crush her baby under her. All she could do was scream, and even that was more like a gasp, as she couldn’t get enough of a breath.

The boar pizzle twisted like a screw being driven into a tight hole. It was small considering the size of the animal, but was distending her vagina awkwardly. She heard an urgent grunting. Then the semen came, like water from a firehose, flooding her aperture and pressuring out to slide down her legs.

Something moved. Blearily she saw a figure, maybe the other pig. There was a swishing sound, and a horrible smell.

The boar oinked and fell to the side. Veil was left on knees and one hand, her head spinning, her bottom soaking. What had happened?

A hand reached down to help her up.

“Are you all right?” It was Micro’s voice.

“What happened?”

“I farted.”

“Come again?”

“The magic fart. My power. The sow was about to chomp my testicles, so I let her have it in the snout with a stunner. Then I came to stun the boar similarly. Did I get it in time?”

“Almost,” she said, with a bit of a smile. What else was there to do? “I did get raped by a pig.”

“I’m sorry. If I’d reacted faster—”

“I am familiar with sex, including the forced variety. I haven’t freaked out. But I must say I’m angry.”

“If I’d realized, I would have stunned them faster. I—I don’t yet know all my powers.”

“I’m not angry at you,” she said. “I was caught offguard too. It’s the damn rapist hog I’m mad at.”

He considered. “We’ll need food. Suppose we butcher it and eat it? Another magic fart will kill it.”

Veil looked around. “I can gather some flint and make a knife, if you gather some wood for a fire. But I’m not sure how we’ll light it.”

“I can handle that.” She took him at his word. Carrying Chance, she foraged for the special stones she sought, while she saw him squat by the boar’s head and blow out a visible cloud of vapor. The boar stopped breathing, while the sow struggled to her feet and fled the scene. He did have a remarkable nether talent.

She found several stones ranging from volcanic glass to chert, and cracked or chipped them until she had a crude blade. Meanwhile Micro fetched in several armloads of dry branches and twigs. He formed a small pyramid, then squatted, aiming his rear at it. What was he up to now?

A jet of flame shot from his anus, igniting the fire. Veil was so startled she dropped her stone knife. Those farts were truly magic!

She carved off a huge haunch. Micro came to help her, using a second crude knife she had made.

“You’re no helpless female,” he remarked.

She didn’t want to reveal the source of her expertise with knives, so demurred.

“Merely kitchen skill.”

They set the severed haunch on the fire. Soon the odor of roasting pig permeated the environment.

“We seem to make a good team,” Micro said.

“We do,” she agreed. In time they carved the roast and fed well. She nursed Chance, and set him in a comfortable declivity to nap.

“One thing about this meat,” Micro said. “It doesn’t supercharge us sexually.”

“That’s a relief,” she agreed. “I have nothing against sex, but I do prefer to indulge in it when I choose, rather than as an aphrodisiac forces the issue.”

He nodded. “Actually I like it any time. But that fruit made me hungry for more too soon.”

She saw his penis stirring. There was still some of that fruit in his system, as it was in hers. Despite recent events, she felt the urge. Nursing the baby sometimes had the effect.

“If you wish to do it now, I’m amenable.”

“But you just got—”

“Raped by a pig,” she repeated. “I did get somewhat uncomfortably stretched. Therefore I ask you to be gentle.”

He looked as if he was trying to demur, but his penis was thickening. Penises had little regard for finer instincts.

“If you’re sure. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Let’s do it this way,” she said. “You lie supine and I will mount you. That way I will be in control, and can avoid discomfort.”

“Great!” he agreed, and lay on his back on the ground, his member rising stiffly against his belly.

She straddled him, her thighs spreading outside his. She lifted his penis and fitted it carefully into her vagina as she lifted her body. She let herself down on him carefully. It was all right; the boar had stretched her, but Micro’s normal sized member did not. Her buttocks came to rest on his groin, the connection complete.

“Oops,” Micro said. “We’re facing each other.”

She had forgotten.

“Perhaps this is no longer for purely sexual relief.”

“I guess not,” he agreed. “I like you a lot.”

She remained there a moment, making sure. This was nice, but she needed more stimulation.

“If you wish to fondle my breasts, you may.”

“But they—you—”

“I nurse my baby,” she agreed. “Is that a turnoff?”

“No! I mean, your breasts must be tender.”

She smiled, knowing that he could not see the expression. She reached down and caught his two hands, lifting them to her breasts, which were very full.

“They are, so stroke rather than grab. Do you wish to kiss them?”

“I, uh—”

She leaned down until her breasts were near his face. But she would have had to disconnect below to put them at his face, so she didn’t. “Another time, perhaps.” He licked his lips. “Okay.” She sat back up, and he fondled, keeping it gentle. That helped, but still wasn’t enough to work her up.

“I will seek my own satisfaction,” she said. “You will achieve yours in the course of that, I think.”

“Sure. It’s great just being in you.”

She put her finger down and touched her clitoris, as she had when they had abated their drives the prior night. She titillated it, and felt desire spreading from it to her vagina. The clitoris was analogous to the man’s penis, the most ready source of sexual response. Men, and many women, thought that female orgasm derived mainly from the vagina, but that was not true. It accounted for the difficulty many women had achieving orgasm; they were depending on the wrong stimuli.

She worked herself up, then went into the throes of her climax. At the height of it she felt Micro’s member spurting; she had brought him off by her motions, rather than his thrusting. That had spared her most of the aggravation of the flesh caused by the pig. She was also satisfied to have erased that foul intrusion by overlaying it with a normal sexual event.

“You’re great!” Micro gasped. “You didn’t have to do it, but you did it for me.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed.

“I think I love you.”

Such a reaction was fairly common with men during sex.

“I care for you too,” she said. Then she lifted off him, and used some dry moss to mop herself clean.

“No, really,” he said. “You are my ideal woman.”

“But you haven’t seen my face.”

“I admit it will be a shock if you turn out to have a face like a crone. But you’re competent, and nice. I’m glad I came to rescue you, even if I’m not succeeding very well.”

She was touched.

“I selected you because you seemed to be the least objectionable of the candidates. But you, too, seem decent and competent.”

“Well, I want to be, for you.”

“But I do have my baby.”

“I’m getting used to that. I don’t have any experience as a father, but I’m willing to learn.”

That was a significant hurdle being overcome. There were others.

“Yet at such time as we return to our own culture, your amazing farts will not be of much use. I happen to be a woman of some means. That may deter you.”

“Well, I sure never planned to marry for money. But if that’s the price of you, maybe I can do good works, volunteer stuff, so as to have some self respect.”

“Perhaps you can,” she agreed.

She did like him, as she came to know him. They could surely work something out.

He fidgeted. “Um, could I—kiss you?” He was still feeling the emotion.

“You may.” She stepped into his arms. He kissed her, his lips finding hers within her shroud. Then he kept his face close and whispered in her ear. “I think we’re still be watched.”

“I agree,” she whispered back.

“We’re still entertainment. But how to we escape observation?”

For surely the swine, trained to rape, were part of it.

“We go somewhere they don’t expect.”

“I agree,” she said. Then they parted. They carved more of the roast pig. Veil fashioned a crude basket of branches and twigs, and Micro hefted it.

“I’ll carry this, and we’ll have food for several days,” he said. “But we’ll have to find water.”

“Maybe downhill,” she said. They walked downhill, and in due course came to a small stream. They drank thirstily; the water was sparkling clear.

“Let’s camp here for the night,” Micro said. He had something in mind? They foraged, and thus time fashioned a small lean-to of deadwood. They made another fire, ate more roast, performed natural functions downstream, and as darkness closed, lay in the lean-to, embracing for more sex. Actually it was a way to talk privately.

“I see the stream flowing away,” Micro whispered. “But I don’t see where it comes from. There must be a spring—or a cave.”

“A cave system!” she whispered back. “They might have trouble putting hidden cameras in there. We might be able to hide.” She wasn’t sure of that, but it was better than nothing. “They can see us in the dark, and would know where we go.”

“I thought about that. I can make an obscuring fart, so they can’t see us.”

She laughed, in a whisper. “How did you ever develop such a talent?”

“I didn’t. I have a—a device.”

“Ah, so you came to this realm prepared.”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go seek our cave,” she said. “While they think we’re indulging in sexual intercourse in the lean-to.”

“It may stink some. Try not to cough.”

She held Chance close and waited. She heard the faint hiss of escaping gas. There was an odor, not unpleasant, and the air around them seemed to thicken somewhat. The fart was taking hold.

They climbed carefully out of the lean-to and made their way upstream. There was just enough starlight so they could see; she hoped their accompanying cloud of mist prevented them from being seen.

Their guess was good: the stream emerged from the steepening slope of the edge of the gulf. Over the millennia it had widened its channel, and there was room for them to walk beside it. But there was no light at all in the cave. They would quickly get lost in it. Then Micro farted again, and this time the mist he issued glowed, faintly illuminating the cave. Truly, his farts were magical! They followed the meandering stream channel upward, navigating dark pools and rapids as necessary. They were bound to reach the surface some time, and then, with luck, they would be free of observation and could try to return to their own realm.

There was a figure ahead. It seemed to be a woman, clothed in diaphanous gauze, of unearthly beauty.

“Come to meee,” she called.

“I don’t trust this,” Veil said. But Micro was already walking toward the figure. He embraced her, kissed her, then bore her to the floor of the cave, which in that region was a cushioned bower. He was having sex with her already!

Then he wrenched up his head and looked back at Veil. “I’m stuck—in a—perpetual orgasm,” he gasped. “She’s a—a sexual vampire! I can’t quit.” His effort of free will exhausted, he returned to his long kiss.

A vampire! Veil figured it out: some vampires sought blood. Others were like deadly succubi, using pheromones to take over a man’s testes and prostate, forcing him to keep generating and ejaculating the seminal fluid on which they fed. Until the victims expired.

She had to stop this. But how? Once the vampire got a man’s member into her hole, she clamped on it so securely that if she were hauled away by brute force, she would rip off his penis in the process. She could not be persuaded to stop; she was a feeding mechanism. The accompanying kiss was the mechanism to feed in the pheromones, keeping him charged.

Veil reviewed her information, seeking an effective approach. Then she thought of something. It was truly weird, but just might work. She set Chance down. Even the baby had an erect penis in the present of this sexual monster.

She approached the vampire and put her face down by the thing’s head.

“I’m going to kiss you,” she said to it. Then she took hold of its hair and wrenched its face away from Micro’s face, breaking the kiss. Before the connection could be reinstated, she put her own mouth on the vampire’s mouth. But there were two differences. First, she was not a man, so the pheromones did not affect her the same way, though they did make her clitoris twitch. Second, she was not inhaling, she was exhaling. She blew her air into the lungs of the creature. She breathed in through her nose, and blew more air out through her mouth. When some leaked out of the vampire’s nose, she pinched it shut with her fingers, and went on inflating the body. The creature tried to struggle, but was locked on Micro and pinned under both him and Veil. It had very little play.

Veil continued to pump air into it. The vampire was not a regular person; her flesh was elastic, and almost boneless. It had no urethra or colon, only the business aperture, so there was no place to let the excess air out. The pressure was blowing it up like a balloon. It swelled, becoming fat, then rounded. Veil kept breathing, forcing ever more air inside.

At last the internal pressure was too great. Micro’s intruding penis was popped out as the rubbery hole inverted. He rolled to the side, and lay there, staring upward. He was out of it for now.

Veil removed her mouth and let go of the vampire. Air whistled out of its mouth. The figure skidded along the cave floor, propelled by the escaping gas, then disappeared down the cave, involuntarily flying. She focused on Micro. “Wake! We have to get out of here.” He lay there, moaning. A tired dribble of goo leaked from his subsiding penis. The pheromones had not yet cleared his body. She got another idea.

“Fart!” she said. “Magic fart. Fart out a nullifying gas. I know you can do it.”

There was a small hiss as his colon got busy. A sweetish gas spread around them. It quelled her clitoris, and soon the man’s penis shrank. But he remained too tired to move.

Well, that anti-pheromone gas was probably enough to keep the vampire away. She recovered Chance and lay beside Micro.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured soothingly, holding his head against her breasts. He recovered slightly.

“You saved me!”

“A little late,” she agreed. He laughed weakly.

“Just as I saved you from that pig a little late.”

“So we’re even now.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t even know who I am. I don’t know who you are. We can’t speak of love.”

Yet her heart was yearning toward him.

“My name—my name is Prior Gross,” he said. Veil froze. She knew that name. This was the man she hated. The discovery was like a bucket of ice water, chilling her dawning affection for him. What a despicable pass!

Chapter 17—Escape

Prior emerged from his orgasmic horror to find Veil cradling his head on her soft bosom. He loved her; he knew it now. The succubus had not been fooling about this being his ideal woman.

“We don’t even know each other,” she was saying.

“I am Prior Gross,” he said.

She was silent. Probably the name meant nothing to her.

“I fetched a magical instrument called The Spire, so I could rescue you. That’s what makes the magic farts. By myself I am nothing. So I can’t blame you for lacking feeling for me.”

“I have feeling,” she said. “Strong feeling.”

“That’s good,” he said, relieved, and sank back into sleep. He woke later, significantly recovered. He didn’t feel much like having sex for the next decade, but the rest of him seemed healthy. Veil and her baby were sleeping beside him. He let out another illumination fart and looked around. The cave was quiet except for the trickle of the stream. They had gotten this far; they could surely make it the rest of the way to the surface.

He went to the water and scooped up a double handful to drink. He felt depleted, but the water seemed restorative.

A figure appeared, walking beside the water. The vampire!

“Spire!” he said. “Blow her away!”

The Spire responded with a blast of gas. The vampire smelled it and fled.

Veil stirred. Her body was smudged with dirt, but she was a lovely creature. Even her baby was handsome for his age.

He still knew very little about her, but was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and not just because she had saved him from the vampire.

He went to help her up. She brushed away his hand.

“I’m not helpless,” she snapped.

Prior retreated. “Sorry.”

She looked at him with an unfathomable expression. “You really don’t know me,” she said.

“I really don’t,” he agreed. “Just that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She paused before speaking again.

“We must make our way out of here. I want you to tell me about yourself as we do.”

“Sure.”

And as they made their way, he told her of his larger background, encountering a succubus, discovering that his smegma had anti-VD properties, and having it stolen by a lady doctor.

“Who did that?” Veil asked sharply.

“Her name was Tantamount Emdee,” he said. “Lovely creature, and I liked her. But that changed when she stole my penis. Oh, she sent me to her sister Oubliette, who made me a versatile prosthesis. But I wanted my real member back. So I went on a quest to find the Cherry Tree. I fought five demons, and won the Spire, the Cosmic Dildo, that jets anything it chooses to.”

“That’s where you got the magic farter, then.”

“Yes, at the time. I left it with Tantamount for a year, spouting my formula of smegma, so she could have all she wanted.”

“She must have been delighted.”

“At first,” he agreed. “Not later, when it flooded her out of her house.”

“That was your revenge for the theft of your penis?”

“Yes.”

“You must be very satisfied.”

He considered. “I guess I was, at first. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I got my penis back. I didn’t really need to do that to her. It was pointless and unkind. If I ever see her again, I’ll apologize. But her sister says she wouldn’t talk to me.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“Oubliette made that very clear. Anyway, I don’t know where she went.”

“So you might as well forget it.”

“Yes, if I can.”

“Why can’t you?”

He shrugged. “I did her wrong. I know it now. I can’t make it right, but at least I could apologize, for what little it’s worth.”

They continued on up the stream cave. At length they reached the surface, where the stream encountered a blind gully and tunneled its way down into the gulf. It was still night, so they settled down to sleep until dawn. Veil cuddled her baby and turned away from him. But then she did something odd.

“Micro, I mean Prior, I have to catch up on a natural function. Will you mind Chance for a while?”

Prior was astonished. She had never let him touch her baby before. He sat up.

“I’ll try. But I don’t know anything about babies. Suppose he cries?”

“Cuddle him,” she said, and put the baby into his hands. Then she disappeared into the darkness.

Prior held the baby, who remained blithely sleeping. There was some thing nice about being trusted like this, though the little boy might well scream in protest when he discovered he wasn’t being held by his mother.

There was an unearthly scream close by. Prior jumped, and the baby woke yelling. Something must have attacked Veil!

Prior found himself on his feet and hurrying toward the sound.

“We’ll help her, Chance,” he said, trying to cuddle the baby without quite knowing how. There was faint light as dawn thought about coming; he could see well enough to avoid holes and rocks in the landscape.

“Veil! Veil!” he called. “Where are you?”

“Over here,” she answered. He saw a dim shape.

“Where’s the animal? I’ll stop it with a magic fart.”

“No need. That was me.”

He stopped where he was.

“You?”

“My primal scream. It releases tension and helps me sort out my feelings.”

He was relieved and annoyed. “I thought it was a beast attacking you. It scared me and woke Chance.”

“Chance is quiet now.”

So he was, Prior realized. His desperate reassurance had somehow worked, and the baby was resting quietly in his arms.

“Uh, so did you get your business done?”

“That was my business.”

“Then you can take Chance back now.”

“No you keep him. We have to talk.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, in due course.”

They returned to their campsite and sat facing each other in the gloom. The baby was satisfied to return to sleep against Prior’s shoulder.

“What do we need to talk about?”

“Tantamount Emdee.”

“I already told you about her.”

“Not enough. You like her, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said. You say you love me, but it’s her you’re thinking of.”

He was amazed.

“You’re jealous of her?”

“Do I have reason?”

He started to protest, but was overcome by a confused rush of feeling.

“I—don’t know. I did her wrong, and she hates me, and I have to try to apologize, but I have to admit she’s been on my mind some.”

“So I have reason. You have unfinished business with her.”

“I guess so,” he said. “I do love you, but she’s there in my background. I wish she didn’t hate me.”

“And if she were to stop hating you, you’d go back to her.”

He laughed somewhat weakly. “There’s no ‘back’ to go to. We were never together. We had one bout of sex, then she drugged me and stole my penis, and later I got back at her. Now I’m sorry. She never cared for me. She’s not a caring person.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Well, she cares about her research. She has all these ideas about making sex safe for the masses, forwarding science, and so on. Maybe she has a boyfriend; I don’t know. She’s smart and talented and dedicated. I was just a—a means to an end. So there’s nothing there.”

“There’s enough to interfere with us.”

He pondered. “I guess there is. I’m sorry. But you know, Veil, you’re available and she’s not, so—”

“The hell I am! You think I want to be someone’s second choice?”

He nodded. “I guess not. Damn.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I’ll see you safely back to our realm, then I’ll go find Tantamount and try to apologize. Then I guess I’ll be on my own.”

“I guess you will,” she agreed. “What of the Spire?”

“I’ll take that to Tantamount’s sister Oubliette. She wants it, and it likes her. She’s a great woman.”

“You like her too.”

“Yes. But she’s even farther out of reach than Tantamount. She tried to help me win you.”

“She what?”

“The thing about the Spire is it can make a woman desperately eager for sex, when it’s set for that. Oubliette told me to touch you with the Spire.”

“The bitch!”

“No, because you’re my ideal woman. The Spire would make you want me. I wasn’t able to touch you with it, and really, that’s just as well, because that would not have been love, just passion. As it happens, you can make up your own mind, and that’s best.”

“Even if it means I don’t marry you?”

He smiled in the dim light. “Best for you, not for me. That’s the way it has to be. I really fouled it up.”

“Perhaps.” She looked around, her long dark hair flaring as her head turned. “We seem to have used up the night. We need to plan the rest of our escape.”

“Yes. I figure I can fart us to food and lodging as we travel.”

“No. Don’t use the magic fart. That would be a dead giveaway, and they’d recapture us.”

“But we have nothing, not even clothing. How can we make our way?”

“There are other contests. Farting is out, and I don’t go for defecation. So it will have to be urination.”

“Pissing?”

“There are contests for volume, color, and distance.”

“Well, with the Spire I could—”

“No Spire.”

“But I’m not that good a pisser.”

“Fortunately I have a fairly tight bladder. I should be able to get some distance.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to—”

“We’re not where we came from. Here women can urinate as freely as men.”

Prior looked at her, out of sorts. “But your hood is as much of a giveaway as the Spire. Neither of us can—”

He paused, astonished. “Your hood is gone!”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh!” She sounded oddly dismayed. He peered at her face, but it wasn’t yet light enough to get it clear of shadow.

“Not that it matters. I’m sure I don’t know you anyway.”

“It matters,” she said. “You’ll know soon enough. I’m Tantamount.”

Now his own jaw dropped. “But she doesn’t have a—” He glanced at the baby, on his shoulder. “And Chance is your son. Why did you think I was so angry?”

“But—but I never—”

“You certainly did. You seduced me with the Spire, and deliberately impregnated me. Not to mention burying my house in smegma. I had to give up my practice and hide, lest my reputation be destroyed.”

Now he remembered. He had done that.

“I suppose it’s too late to apologize,” he said.

“Way too late,” she agreed with controlled fury.

Chapter 18—Trap

Well, now it was out, Tantamount thought as she worked her hair into a halter. Now that the secret was gone, she could afford to be comfortable to that extent. Of all the men who might have come to rescue her, this was the worst. But she was stuck with it.

One thing that really bothered her now was that she should have recognized him when she numbed his penis. His artificial member fitted very well, and there was no obvious juncture where it connected to his living body, but she was a doctor specializing in penile malaise. She should have caught on immediately that his member was artificial. She had been distracted by their situation, and had never thought to inspect it. The more fool, she.

“Well, I’ll still do my best to get you out of here,” he said. “Then you’ll be free of me.”

“Not so fast, you jerk. You can’t just kiss off your son. You have legal responsibilities.”

“My son,” he echoed, as if just realizing. “He’s quiet when I’m holding him. Does he realize?”

She shrugged. “You like holding him?”

He considered only briefly.

“Yes.”

That was one point in his favor. She had tested him by having him hold Chance when she did her primal scream. The baby had firm notions about who was all right and who wasn’t.

“There was one thing I couldn’t decipher,” she said, as they ate the remaining roast pig Prior had hauled up through the cave. “Why was I kidnapped? At first I thought it was random, but I did wonder why they took a woman with a baby, surely a drug on the fresh maiden market. Then they arranged to notify you. That didn’t make sense either, as long as you were anonymous. But now it is clear that this was set up from the start. The question is why. My sister evidently caught on, and thought it was a good match, the canine, but she didn’t set it up. Who did that?”

“I don’t know. Someone with a sadistic sense of humor. Putting you together with the man you most despised, and watching the action.”

She nodded. “The ancient Romans had some similar entertainments. On the other hand there’s the analogy of The Magic Flute.”

“The what?”

“It’s a literary reference. Naturally you wouldn’t know.”

She was punishing him with her contempt.

“I’m an ignorant guy,” he agreed, accepting it.

“It is an opera by Mozart, dating from 1791. The Queen of the Night gives a magic flute to a young prince so that he can rescue her daughter from the palace of an evil high priest who has abducted her.”

“I’m the prince,” he agreed, laughing weakly. “You’re the kidnapped daughter.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Some prince!”

“But you were the one with access to the magic fart.”

“The Spire,” he agreed. “But this can’t be an old opera.”

“That depends on the whim of whoever set this up. There does seem to be a certain devious logic.”

Chance woke and began to fuss.

“I guess I’d better give him back to you,” Prior said. “He’s been great.”

He held the baby out.

“He’s hungry,” she agreed, taking Chance and putting him to her breast.

“How does it work out, in the opera?”

“The prince goes to the castle of the high priest, protected from danger by the music of the flute, and discovers to his surprise that the man is not evil, but merely protecting the girl. The prince gets to know the girl, and likes her a lot, and she him. So the prince undergoes the ordeal of the search for truth. This prevents him from speaking to the girl, who thinks he doesn’t love her.”

“So much for the parallel.”

“Parallels can be figurative as well as literal. We met each other anonymously, here in Fartingale, so had our misunderstandings.”

“Like my thinking you could love me,” he said.

“I confess to being severely stressed with respect to that. I was coming to like you, before I discovered your identity.”

“That’s the opposite of the opera.”

“Opposites are parallels too. Here is what I am faced with: you are the father of my son. I don’t love you but I do love Chance. I want what is best for him. So I am obliged to consider you seriously.”

“This is hell for you.”

“Yes. I am trying to fathom who hates me enough to do this to me.”

Prior spread his hands. “I really am sorry. I do like you a lot, love you even. I’ll do anything to make it right, if I can. I just don’t know what that is. So—whatever you decide.”

“Thank you,” she said tightly. “First I want to escape this awful culture and return home. Thereafter I’ll decide.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “But maybe you’d better let me use the magic fart.”

“No. I think urine is our best bet, and I’m the one to do it. Now that my hood is gone, I’m essentially anonymous. That will help.”

“Except for Chance,” he said. “They’ll be alert for a woman with a baby.”

She put her hand to her forehead. “Oh! I forgot about that. You’re right.”

“Maybe I can use the magic fart after all. I can made a little cloud that conceals the baby, making him invisible, if I’m carry him. Then we’ll look like an average young couple.”

“That might work. We’ll have to act like it, kissing and such.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she snapped. “It’s a necessary act.”

“Not for me.”

She paused. “You really thought of me during our separation?”

“Yes. You’re such a smart, beautiful, motivated person—all the things I’m not. Now I understand why you took my penis. It was for the benefit of mankind.”

“Don’t praise me for that! I let the ends justify the means. My sister told me that, and now I realize it’s true. I did wrong you.”

“We were pretty mean to each other.”

“We were indeed.”

What was getting to her was that she found herself softening toward him. They had offsetting wrongs, and with that cancellation, what was left was an ignorant but decent guy, and her need for legitimacy. She didn’t want her son to be a bastard.

“Let me see what I can do,” he said as Chance finished nursing. He took the baby back, and there was the squeak of a narrow fart. A trail of vapor floated up from his posterior and clung to his upper section, surrounding Chance. And Chance disappeared.

“But can he breathe?” she asked, alarmed.

“Sure. Take a breath and see.” She put her face to the cloud and inhaled. The mist was faintly sweet, like dilute perfume, and made her feel satisfied and sleepy, but not out of breath. It was a rather special magic. She put her hand in and found Chance, nestling peacefully.

“I have to acknowledge that the Spire is apt,” she said. “This will do. Very well, let me see whether I’m fit to pee, as it were.”

She found a rock as the light brightened, sat on, it leaned back, and let fly a long jet of urine. “Measure that.”

Prior paced it off, from her feet to the wet landing spot. “About six feet.”

“I doubt that’s good enough. These folk are competitive pissers. But with practice and a full bladder I’ll improve. Let’s go find a clothing shop.”

She was privately amazed to hear herself talking like this, but this did seem the best way to travel anonymously.

“We’d better tank up,” Prior said.

“Agreed.”

Prior lay on the ground by the steam and sucked in water, man style, while she scoped handfuls up to sip, woman style. They both drank until their stomachs were full. This was uncomfortable, but she, at least, needed the ammunition.

They walked across the terrain, following the stream upstream. Water was usually a good place to find human habitation. After an hour they came to a small settlement. A sign identified it as Piss Creek. Good; a urination contest should be quite in order. Her bladder was already filling.

She took Chance back and nursed him, then returned him to Prior. Not having to carry his weight made her walking easier.

“Here’s our situation,” she told Prior. “We were out walking and lost our clothes in the stream; they just disappeared into the ground. We were part of a tourist tour, and missed our transport. We need to get some clothing.”

“They won’t just give it to us.”

“Correct. So we’ll piss for it.”

They came to the central privy, always a social center. It was posted with ads: MULTI-COLORED TURDS, GUARANTEED. EMPOWER YOUR FARTS: FLOWERY SMELLS, GREATER VOLUME, MELODIOUS SOUND, IMPROVED VELOCITY. MASTER THE POWER OF PISS: THE FAMILY THAT PEES TOGETHER, SEES TOGETHER. While she read the notices, Prior spoke to a likely man, telling the story Tantamount had suggested.

“Nothing’s free,” the man said sourly. “Where’s your money?”

“Lost that too. We’ll have to piss for it.”

The man nodded. “We’re always up for a good pissing, here in Piss Creek. Folk who piss together, have bliss together. What stakes?”

“Clothing for each of us, versus a fast fuck with my wife, who will be the contestant.”

The man looked at Tantamount, seeing her shape. “My wife’s got spares, and my son needs a good fuck.”

“She’s not going up against a man,” Prior said quickly.

“Naturally not,” the man agreed, though evidently he had had it in mind.

“My daughter will take her on.” It was playing out pretty much the way Tantamount had planned; her research in the Tower now stood her in good stead. Soon the villagers gathered for the spot show; pretty women were more fun to watch urinating than men.

The man’s wife showed off a good used farthingale dress that looked as if it would fit, and a pair of pantaloons. The son and daughter come out.

“First pissing,” the man announced. “For the dress.”

Oops—they wanted to contest separately for the items, instead of making it a package deal. They were stuck for two contests. The daughter, who was a halfway comely teen girl, removed her dress, sat on the pissing stool and let fly with a good stream that cut off abruptly. The spectators applauded. Trust the villagers to know how to do it well. It was necessary to have a sufficient amount to maintain a steady flow, however briefly, and the girl had done that.

Tantamount took the stool, held her breath, compressed her bladder, and forced out a powerful stream. It splashed just beyond the girl’s effort. The villagers applauded again.

“You won it,” the man said, handing Prior the farthingale. Now for the pants.”

The daughter let fly with another jet, the same distance as the first. But Tantamount, her pressure diminished, fell short. She had expended too much urine the first time, her inexperience costing her.

“Well, now,” the son said, stepping forward, his member stiffening.

“Hey, we didn’t say public,” Tantamount protested. She knew she was stuck for the fuck, but there were limits. There was a sigh of regret among the villagers. But they went along, allowing Tantamount to take the young man into the closed privy. She put her hands on the seat, presenting her bottom.

“Hey I want it from the front,” the boy protested.

“You can’t feel my breasts from the front,” she pointed out. “This way you can reach around me.”

“Say yeah,” he agreed. Without further argument he stepped up behind her, put his stiff penis to her cleft, reached around to grab her breasts, and rammed home. He jetted on the first thrust, being young.

That was it. One advantage of doing it with a teen boy was that it was fast. He was out in a moment, and she grabbed some toilet paper and wiped herself dry.

But they still needed the pantaloons, and she had little urine left; she had let too much flow in the contests. “Let me consult privately with my husband,” she said as they returned to the plaza.

The villagers smiled. Women paid off their bets, but often preferred to have follow-ups with their own men, to erase the feel of foreign intrusion. Prior joined her in the privy. “Give me Chance,” she said.

“Oh.” He obliged. She nursed the baby as she talked. “I need more urine.”

“That will take time.”

“No. I want it now, so we can win the pants and be on our way. You have it.”

“I’m no good at power pissing.”

“I need you to give it to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Put your penis to my urethra and urinate with sufficient force to transfer it to my bladder.”

He stared. “You can’t be serious!”

“You do want clothing?”

“Yes, but—”

“We don’t have time to debate this.”

She took his penis and lifted it as she sat on the potty hole. “Do it.”

“I don’t think it’s possible.”

“I’m a doctor, remember? This would be much easier with a catheter, but we don’t have one, so will simply have to make do. Hold it tight to the mark and urinate, hard.”

“I can’t. I’ve got a hard-on.”

True; his penis had swelled with her manipulation, and that blocked off the avenue. He had recovered from the vampire depletion.

“Very well, abate your lust,” she snapped, and directed his stiff member into her vagina. She clenched on it, then used her hand to draw his bottom forward so that he entered her without delay. In a moment he caught the fever and thrust on his own, and in another moment his orgasm sent his semen surging into her. Good; that was out of the way.

She drew out his softening penis and set it against her urethra, but the fit wasn’t tight. “Hold Chance,” she said.

He took the baby back and stood there, his diminishing penis at her cleft. She used both hands to hold it there, actually forcing the lubricated tip part way into her urethra. “Urinate. Now.” Still he hesitated, his reactions not cooperating.

“Piss!” she snapped, slapping his bottom. That jolted him into action. The urine started. It squirted wastefully out around the edges. She mashed the rounded head against her vulva lips and pressed the tip farther in. It was a messy connection but the leakage stopped. She tried to relax her own channel, so as not to oppose the reverse flow. Still it balked, the pressure equalized. Then she got smart, and tried to urinate herself. That opened the channel with the pressure higher on his side. Gradually, the urine coursed down through his tube and up hers, and made its way to her bladder. She felt it slowly filling. The sensation was weird but not unpleasant. She was thankful that as a woman she had a short urethra, facilitating the transfer.

“Good,” she said. “Keep the pressure on. Squeeze it all out, into me.”

He did, and the flow strengthened, now that the channels had been opened. There was a lot of it, because he had not urinated recently. She felt her belly distending uncomfortably, but this was exactly what she wanted.

“It’s like spurting,” he grunted. “Only with piss.”

“You are sending your substance into me,” she agreed. “There’s a parallel. Keep it coming.”

He bore down, forcing it out. “This is weird. I’d be coming now, if I hadn’t just come.”

“Lean down so I can kiss you.” He did, carefully so as not to press on the baby. She kissed him ardently, surprising herself.

“I like it when you come through for me,” she told him. She felt his penis twitch in response; indeed he would have gotten an erection if she hadn’t just taken his edge off. This was a whole lot like sex. They would have to try it some time just for fun. Would it be possible to reverse it again, and have her urinate into him? Suppose they tried it when he had a full erection? This was an aspect of male sexuality she had never had occasion to explore. She was interested as a scientist, and perhaps as a woman too.

Finally he ran out; he could pump no more. She released his penis as she clenched her urethra closed. Urine spattered out and on them both. She cleaned them up, quickly.

“Now we go out and conquer,” she said. “Keep Chance concealed.”

“Oh,” he said evidently bemused. “I never did that before, exactly.”

He issued a small fart that rendered the baby invisible again.

“Obviously.”

She took his arm and urged him outside.

“We consulted,” Prior said, gesturing at his limpening penis. The villagers nodded understandingly.

“He recharged me,” Tantamount said. “Now I’m really ready to piss.”

The daughter let fly a third time, having rationed herself to keep pressure up. Then Tantamount jetted, readily outdistancing her. The villagers applauded again.

“He really did recharge you,” the man said, handing over the pantaloons.

“He’s more of a man than he looks,” she agreed. “Now we’d like some food to travel on.”

“We’ve got food,” the man said. “But my son’s fucked out. You really took care of him. Will you take me on?”

“Yes, if your wife agrees.”

“I want to see her piss again,” the woman said. So it was agreed. The daughter pissed once more, making the same mark a fourth time. Then Tantamount did, matching her third mark. This time the applause was considerable; the villagers were impressed, because her volume was much greater than the daughter’s had been. Only the man looked disappointed; he had wanted that fuck.

“Come with me,” the wife said, leading Tantamount into her hut. She made an efficient bundle of assorted fruits and breads. “A good fuck can satisfy a man, but I never saw it help a woman to piss better. I’ll trade you for your secret.”

“What do you offer?”

“Information of likely interest to you.”

“Give it.”

“You are being watched, your actions recorded. My guess is you’re a Tower Maiden.”

“Damn!” Tantamount swore.

“I thought we’d slipped that noose.”

“There’s no escape, just new settings, as they wring the last bit of entertainment from you. Ordinary folk aren’t in on it, but I was a Tower Maiden in my youth, and I learned how it was. They let you think you’re free, and a selected paying clientele gets to watch. So they know what happened in the privy; I don’t.”

“I took his urine,” Tantamount said, and explained the process.

The woman whistled. “That’s a new one! I’ll tell my daughter, but I don’t think she’ll go for it unless there’s a really big prize on the line.”

“I thought our prize was anonymity,” Tantamount said.

“I’d like to make another deal, to explain to the others what we talked about,” the woman said.

“Not the pissing secret.” She lifted a small bottle of wine, as if pondering whether to add it to the bundle.

“That fuck for your husband,” Tantamount said immediately.

The women smiled. “That will do. You’re a lovely woman. He’s a good man; he deserves an occasional nice piece.”

“You’re a very understanding wife.”

“The Tower experience broadens one’s perspective.” She put the wine into the bundle.

“It certainly does,” Tantamount agreed fervently. In this land, sex was an open commodity. “I’ll make your man glad.”

They returned to the public privy.

“Honey,” Tantamount said to Prior. “I made another deal. For a bottle of wine.” She opened the bundle to show it.

“What deal?” Prior demanded, playing the part of the possessive partner.

“That fuck for her husband.”

“The hell!” Prior exclaimed as the husband’s face lighted.

“Taste the wine.” She opened the bottle and proffered it to him.

“Agree,” she murmured. He tasted the wine. “Damn, that’s good. Okay, but make it quick.”

Tantamount took the husband into the privy. “How would you like me?”

“How’d you do it with my son?”

“I bent over,” she said, demonstrating. “So he could fondle my breasts at the same time.”

“I don’t want to step in his tracks. Give it to me front face.”

“Hold me close,” she said, stepping into him as he doffed his pantaloons. She lifted one leg high so he could guide his penis in, then clung tightly, wrapping both legs around his body as he stood. He put his hands on her bottom, squeezing her buttocks as he held her up.

“Hoo!” he gasped, loving it. He thrust, lifting her body, then relaxed and thrust again. The play wasn’t great, because she was supported in large part by his pole within her, but it was enough. Soon he was pressuring out his fluid.

“God’s fart!” he swore blissfully.

She knew he had had his best climax in years. She kissed him as he faded. “Your wife bought it. She said you deserve it.”

“I’ll thank her every day!” She dropped her feet to the floor and disengaged. She cleaned up again, but let him drip.

“Go show your neighbors,” she said. They went out, and the man showed off his spent penis, advertising his enormous satisfaction, while Tantamount assumed an air of innocence. The villagers applauded again, understanding everything, and the men (plus a few women) looked appropriately jealous. They would remember this visit a long time.

Soon Prior, Tantamount, and Chance were on their way, walking the path that led to the next village.

“Something I wondered about,” she said. “What made my hood fade out?”

“It must have had a time limit.”

“I don’t think so. It seems we’re still under observation.”

“We’re what?” he asked, startled.

“The wife was a Tower Maiden in her youth. A lot of the local women were, considering there’s a new one every week. She told me, and I believe her.”

“So we’re still monkeys in a cage.”

“We still are. We’ll have to keep performing, assuming they don’t know we know.”

He laughed ruefully. “After that sex vampire, I thought I wouldn’t want sex for weeks, but you got me hot in a minute. You know how to make me spout. If you want to.”

She avoided that. “So the reason for the hood fading out was to let us think we had escaped. Unless there was some other trigger.”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “When I spoke your name.”

“My name!” she agreed. “That would of course be it.” She paused, thinking it through. “But you didn’t actually know my identity in the cave.”

“The program’s not smart enough to know the difference. It figured I spoke your name because I knew you. That washed out the hood, because it was supposed to make no difference then.”

“So it would seem.”

“So we’re not out of it yet. Whatever happens, I have to say that you’re a great woman, and you proved it yet again in the village, doing what you had to to get us clothing and food. Whatever you need of me, you can have, even if it’s just urine.”

She smiled without having to force it. “Thank you.”

They moved on, eating the food, drinking the wine, nighting at villages. They might be under observation, but there was no interference. Would the Tower authorities allow them to walk right out of Fartingale?

In the evening, in a nice room in an inn she had won by expending more of Prior’s piss, her head tingling with a bit more wine than she should have taken, facing the prospect of a joint bed, she came to a conclusion.

“I believe you will do.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“You’re a decent man, down deep. I can’t say I love you, yet, but I do like you. My hate for you was evidently a function of my feeling for you, because you had seemed to dismiss me with contempt. It seems best simply to recognize this and accept you. I could do worse.”

“Accept me?”

“When we return home, I will marry you.”

He gazed at her. “Oh, Tantamount! You really are my ideal—”

Then things changed.