The Magic Fart (26 page)

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Authors: Piers Anthony

Tags: #Fantasy, #Erotica, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: The Magic Fart
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But when the smog cleared, Prior was still lying there, unscathed. He stuck out his tongue at the demon.

Bewildered, the demon turned around, brought his ugly visage close to Prior’s head, and peered into his face. “How come you’re still breathing, man thing?”

“Because that isn’t really my face,” Prior’s voice came from the vicinity of his crotch. “Huh?” “It’s my posterior. I let out an illusion fart to change my seeming orien

tation. You farted at my ass, idiot.” “Oh, no!” The demon jerked back, but too late; Prior’s fart caught him in the mouth and nose and he breathed it all in before he got clear. He vanished.

Tantamount ran gladly to hug Prior. But a dusky, sultry, shapely greenish demoness appeared between them. “Tomorrow at noon,” she told Prior.

Then Tantamount found herself in the suite of the Fourth Branch, fac ing a tigress.

Chapter 25— Fourth Branch

Prior stared at the castle that was now just two branches high. On the new ground level was a chamber whose walls were transparent, like those of the Maid-in-Tower tower, and inside was Tantamount facing a tigress.

The animal advanced on her, snarling. Tantamount retreated, backed into the bed, and fell on it as the tiger pounced. She held Chance protectively to her bosom and tried to kick the animal away with her legs. But the tiger wedged its head between them and gaped its jaws to take a huge bite of her crotch. Then, as Tantamount screamed, the tiger’s tongue came out instead and slurpingly licked her vulva.

The tiger’s head turned toward Prior and nodded as the walls turned opaque. He knew what it meant: the Fourth Branch was a shape changer, and was toying with Tantamount so that Prior could see. If he did not show up for the fight tomorrow, that crotch bite could readily become real.

“I’ll be there, never fear,” he said, and turned away. He had defeated the demoness before by getting a good hold on her and hanging on while she madly shifted shapes. He had gotten his penis into her slit, but then she had turned frigidly cold, cooling his necessary ardor. He had prevailed only by a trick: he had faked an orgasm and pissed into her, pretending it was semen. Obviously that wouldn’t work again, despite his recent practice pissing into another woman.

“So how am I going to take her this time?” he asked the Spire as he walked to the local inn where he had farted for room and board.
IMMUNITY,
the Spire gouted, and explained. It seemed feasible. The innkeeper met him at the door. “No more contests,” he said. “You’ve proved you can fart anyone else under the table. Give me something I can use, you goldbricker.” That gave Prior an idea. “I’ll give you a real gold brick,” he said. “Put out

your hands.” He turned around and dropped his pantaloons. “You’re going to shit in my hands?” the innkeeper demanded, outraged. “I’m going to shit a gold brick,” Prior said. “If you don’t want it, someone

else surely will.” He oriented his bottom.
Spire, do your stuff
. The Spire did. From it, seemingly from Prior’s anus, issued a golden colored

mass. It was a moderate turd—of solid solidifying gold. “Will that do?” he inquired as he covered his ass. The innkeeper stared at the mass in his hands. He could tell by its heft

that it really was gold. “Oh, yes, for the next month!” He hurried away. Prior ate and rested well. In the morning he repaired to the castle ahead

of time. Tantamount came out to meet him, dressed in a slinky gown rather than the standard farthingale. He much preferred it, and not just because it showed her figure off to advantage. “Oh, Prior, she said, rushing into his embrace and kissing him. “It was awful! She changed into a tigress and threatened me!” “And licked your vulva,” he said. “You know?” she asked amazed. “She kept the walls translucent so I could see. She wasn’t threatening

you so much as warning me.” “Oh, of course.” “How come you’re out here alone?” “Believe me, she’s watching. She knows I can’t escape; she’s got Chance.” That figured. Tantamount would not go anywhere without her—their— baby. So the branch knew it was safe to let her out for a while. Yet it seemed unusually generous of the demoness to give him even this much joy of the woman he loved. What was she planning?

Still, whatever the catch, he was glad of it. “She didn’t—do anything to you?”

“No, just frightened me. Actually none of them have been really bad, except maybe the First Branch, who let me think I was escaping.” Her body moved seductively against him. “How could you think that?” He stroked her shapely bottom. “He let me sneak out and steal a magic carpet. I flew to your friend Smellie in Nude-on-Toilet, and she agreed to help me. Then it turned out the carpet was the demon; I had not escaped at all. He made me sit on his spike all the way back.” “His spike?” “His big phallus formed in the center of the carpet and penetrated me. I

had no choice. So I nursed Chance. The demon called it suck and fuck.” “Oh.” He hated to admit it, even to himself, but that sounded sort of sexy.

“The Second Branch was actually nice to me. The Third Branch de manded sex every half hour, but apart from that he left me alone. The Fourth Branch left me alone, after that first scare. We had an interesting dialogue, and I learned some things. The door was open when you came, so I came out to meet you. But she couldn’t let Chance come with me.”

Prior nodded. “I can’t figure why she’s letting us have this time together. There’s bound to be a catch.”

“I think she wants me to distract you so you aren’t properly prepared for your encounter with her.”

Prior looked at the watch he had won in a farting match. The hands looked like penises, and the numbers were the spread legs of eager women. “We still have five minutes until noon. Is it okay to—?”

“Yes, Prior, yes!” she breathed, melting against him. Then she tugged him to a soft section of the ground and drew him down with her.

He had her skirt up and his eager member in her without delay. She kissed him, facilitating it. She was hot and slick, completely ready for his entry. “Oh, Tantamount!” he said as his passion surged. “Oh, Prior!” She wrapped her bare legs around him, clasping him close. He thrust, and thrust again, climaxing powerfully, and she spasmed with

him. Then, as the last of his semen flowed, she wrapped her arms around him, tightened her legs, and suddenly squeezed him so tight that the gas in his colon ripped out in a loud fart. “What?” he gasped, surprised. “Got you, lover,” she said, and morphed into the demoness. “It was you all the time!” he exclaimed, dismayed. “Yes, idiot. And now you have no fart for me.” She disconnected, slid out from under him, spun in place, spread her legs, and let fly a deadly fart to his face.

Prior’s gaze went blank as his body went limp. She had caught him right when he was inhaling.

“You thought I would just let your wench out to give you joy? You should have looked that gift ass in the mouth.” She peered at him. “You’re down but not out; I’ll have to finish the job.” She got to her feet, straddled him, squatted right over his face, and let a second fart directly into his mouth.

He put his two hands on her two buttocks and shoved her forward. Off balance, she flopped down on him, her face plowing into his crotch. “You faker!” she cried.

He blew out a formidable fart. It caught her in the face before she could turn it away. She tried to hold her breath, but he stabbed her crack with a finger, reaming her hole and forcing a gasp. She had to inhale—and she was gone.

He sat up as she dissipated into mist and floated away, like a cloud of spent gunpowder.

Tantamount—the real one—came from the castle, carrying her baby. “Oh Prior, I thought she had beaten you!”

“Not quite,” he said, standing up. “The Spire made an immunity fart so that I could withstand her effort for a while, and of course it never runs out of gas, so I was armed when she thought I was farted out.”

Then, womanlike, she was angry. “But did you have to fornicate with her like that? You looked as if you really enjoyed it.”

“I did,” he said. “I thought she was you. I forget about her being a shape changer. Until the end.”

“Oh. I forgot she assumed my likeness. In that case, I forgive you.” She reached out to him— And the Fifth Branch interceded.

Chapter 26—Fifth Branch

Tantamount found herself and Chance in the top stage of the castle, which now was the ground level. Before her stood the dread Fifth Branch, the final and most formidable demon guardian of the Spire.

This was definitely male, a full-grown eeg seven feet tall with a two foot long perpetually erect penis. It was reminiscent of a crossbreed between a griffin and a goblin, with more than a dash of devil, with snaggle tusks projecting from where its mouth wasn’t, a hooked beak without nostrils, saberclaws on its hands and feet, barbed wings, and a spiked tail. It had metallic upthrusting animal ears with serrated edges, and bright red eyes that looked painted on. Overall, it was the most horrendous creature she had seen in some time.

He—this grotesque thing was obviously male—stepped toward her. She retreated, affrighted. The monstrous phallus jetted a taffy-colored string of gism that splatted across her free arm and hip. She tried to brush it off, but it clung elastically, binding her arm to her side.

Tantamount was not stupid, particularly about penises. She realized that this was a weapon of restraint, so the demon could render her helpless without otherwise harming her. She was imprisoned here anyway. So she got smart, and negotiated.

“Demon, don’t tie me up! I need to be free to care for my baby.” She lifted Chance with her other arm. “I know I am in your power for a day, as I was with the four other Branches. I got along with them, and I can get along with you. Leave me free, within this chamber, and I will do whatever else you want, without trying to fight you.”

The demon paused, considering. Then the massive phallus swung grandly around, like a nuclear cannon, to orient directly on her.

“Please!” she cried. “I’m pretty sure all you want is sex, and it looks impossible, but maybe it isn’t. The Fourth Branch was a shape changer; she was teaching me how to do it, and I was learning a little. I can’t change into a tiger or a bird, but I think I can modify my body somewhat, slowly. Maybe I can make my vagina big enough to accommodate you, so you can have sex with me. I’ll even pretend to like it. I’ll kiss you and make ecstatic groans. I doubt you have had full sex with many mortal women. Just let me be free.”

The phallus made a correction of azimuth and shot out another gout of fluid. It splatted on the taffy that was pinning her arm—and the taffy dissolved, freeing her. The demon had understood and agreed!

“Good enough,” she said, giving Chance a last nursing and setting him down in the nearby crib for a nap. “Let me focus. I can’t do it instantly, but in a few minutes there should be progress.” She concentrated on her vagina, willing it to grow.

It worked. She felt the tube of it expanding, displacing other organs of her body, lengthening and thickening. It swelled up into her abdomen, into her midriff, and pushed up between her lungs, past her heart, and on to the base of her throat. She felt queasy as her body adjusted, making way, but things continued to function. As the demoness had explained, shape changing was topological; aspects could be stretched or compressed without changing the essential nature of the body. Of course it could be a challenge to assume the eight legged form of a giant spider; that required greatly extending some toes to resemble legs, and not all the eyes were operative. But a change from the likeness of one human being to another was elementary. This was in between: an adjustment of the size of one portion, and shifting of position of others. The demon waited patiently, his member never slackening. Finally she had it. She glanced at the full length mirror, and saw that her outline was unchanged; she retained her hourglass configuration. It was only the inside that had changed, and that at this point was a mere flattened tube. “I believe I’m ready, to whatever extent is possible,” she said. “At any rate, it will have to do. Now you can have sex with me.”

The demon stepped forward, put his hands on her hips, lifted her up into the air, drew her in, and set her crotch on his member. She felt the hot tip of it nudging her cleft, and hoped she had made herself big enough. He let her weight drop, slowly, and that carried it down on the huge hot pole. She thought of the impalement stake the First Branch had set her on. But now she was ready for it, she hoped, and this one was rounded, not pointed.

She felt the phallus pushing in. Her flesh stretched around it, like an elastic condom, giving it room without any to spare. The great dome of it distended the aperture, denting it inward. Could she stretch enough? It seemed to be sticking.

Then there was a jet of warm taffy, or maybe petroleum jelly, and her hole became slick with lubricant. The phallus slid in, like a piston, following the greased channel, opening it up. She glanced down and saw that the member was half a foot deep, but at least three quarters of the shaft was still to come, as it were. She wriggled her torso, spreading the juice, and slid down farther, passing the halfway mark. Her belly was swelling with the size of it, sacrificing her wasp waist, but there was no pain; maybe the lubricant had an anesthetic property too.

The demon continued to lower her, and his member shoved on up in side her. She felt it passing her intestines, her kidneys, her liver, her heart, her lungs. Her breasts became more prominent, forced outward by the mass in her chest. Then, just as it reached the limit and threatened to block her throat, she felt the base of the phallus come up against her vulva. It was all in!

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