The Magic Fart (19 page)

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 scoop ing 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 inno cent 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 no

where 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 man aged 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? An

other 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 sys tem, 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