The Magic Fart (8 page)

He kissed her, and she held for the kiss, but did not do more. “Something’s odd here,” Veil said. “She doesn’t seem to be participat

ing.” “She’s a demon,” the announcer said. “She is programmed to respond in a set way, and not to volunteer anything. He must make her climax within a set time, or lose.” Now it made sense. “Why did he whisper in her ear?” “He was trying to make her laugh. That’s a significant point; women like

men who make them laugh. But his joke was old, so she didn’t respond.” This contest was getting more interesting. The man laid the demoness on the bed behind her, lifted her legs, and did oral stimulation on her cleft. Veil noticed that her cleft was without pubic hair, clean in the manner of a child; that must be a signal of her demon nature, as she was clearly sexually mature. He licked her channel and tongued her clitoris. She reacted with a gentle sigh of pleasure. He was good at it; he had the right touch.

Then he licked her breasts and kissed her nipples. She reacted farther, visibly softening. He kissed her again, this time tonguing her. She sighed more firmly. Finally he got on her, inserted his hard penis, and drove it home. He thrust repeatedly, taking time to come. She writhed in ecstasy, and finally climaxed. Only then did he go into his own orgasm. “If he had climaxed before her, he would have lost,” Veil said. “True; that’s the trap. The point is to give her pleasure, rather than himself. He started slow, but improved, and brought her to a fair culmination. It can be done, played correctly. It is surprising how many men lack the skill or patience to make a woman react.” “Suppose he had failed?” “Here is the case of the man before him, with this demon.” The scene showed another moderately handsome man approach. He worked her up much as the other had, and penetrated her in good order, but when she started reacting it triggered his orgasm and he climaxed too soon.

At that point the demon’s fair mien changed. She blew out a fart of conquest, caught his arms as talons sprouted, and wrapped her legs around him, locking him against her. She kissed him, and fangs appeared, latching on to his lips as she sucked his breath. Her breasts not only flattened against him, they spread out to adhere to his skin, abrading it as if feeding. But the main action was at his crotch. A close up showed her vulva lapping at his member like a hungry mouth, the labia actually smacking together where they didn’t surround it. Then they closed firmly and sucked. The rest of his softening shaft disappeared into the hole, only to be pushed out again, then slurped back in. She was forcing thrusts, artificially engorging the member by means of the suction.

The man groaned as his second climax was drawn from him. But the demon didn’t stop. She sucked his air until he was almost unconscious, then bit him again, injecting a sedative so that he was unable to move. Then she detached, rolling him off her; raw red welts showed on his chest where the carnivorous breasts had fed. Her vagina spat out his doubly spent penis, which flopped limply. She turned him over, lifted him to hands and knees, pushed down his head, and parted his legs so that he formed a crude tripod. Then she slid her tongue into his elevated anus. It was a long tongue, and it extended farther, snaking sinuously in. The scene closed on the region, showing his hanging scrotum and penis as her tongue still coursed into his colon.

The penis quivered. Veil knew what was happening; that prehensile tongue was massaging the man’s prostate gland, squeezing it, forcing it to eject more fluid, and this was stirring the penis. It thickened in a weak erection, and finally jerked, dribbling out the product of another orgasm. The fluid was pale red.

The demoness reeled her tongue back into her mouth and pushed the man over. He fell, his face frozen in a rictus of agonized bliss. He was done for. It would take him weeks to recover potency, and longer to get over the memory of the experience. “Why do they risk that fate?” Veil asked. “For the prospect of winning a shapely maiden for a year of sexual

bliss.” “Don’t they know they lack the erotic skill to make the grade?” “Every man thinks he’s a champion lover.” “Every man is in denial!” She glanced at the scene, which had gone neutral. “So the ones that get past the demoness make it for the day. Are further applicants cut off?” “No, if there is more than one in a day, they must face off against each other in a farting contest.”

“I believe I’ll pass over that exhibition. I will consider what I have to say.”

She considered, and concluded that an appeal to the copulating, farting men who wanted her body would be less useful than a test of their mentality. She knew an intellectual puzzle that stumped most people who hadn’t encountered it before. The first part was easy, the second hard. Only a smarter or better informed man would realize what she had in mind.

She stood and faced the mirror-wall, knowing it was transparent from outside. She doffed her clothing and did a few jumping jacks, knowing that they made her flesh bounce enticingly, especially her breasts. That should attract the attention of any men in range, and of course it was being recorded so they could watch it again. “I am Veil, the Maiden in the Tower,” she said. “I will choose the man who correctly answers two riddles. The first riddle is this: Where in the world can a person walk south a mile, east a mile, north a mile, and be back where he started? The second riddle I will ask of those who answer the first, not announcing it in advance.” Then she did a few more exercises, including leg lifts and bicycling on her back that proffered a good view of her genital region. She had the sexual equipment; she was making sure they knew it. Men were such fools about bodies.

“That should do it,” the announcer agreed. “Top it off with a good fart.”

Oh, of course. She had been automatically stifling her gas; now she blew it out as loudly as she could. It seemed that hearing a woman fart was similar to seeing her urinate, in this feculent culture.

Part 2: Contest

Chapter 7—Oubliette

Prior woke early next morning, invigorated. He had taken a thorough shower and cleaned up, but forgotten to remove the Spire from his groin. “Did you facilitate my rest?” he inquired.
YES,
it gouted.
YOU FACE A CHALLENGE BEYOND YOUR MEANS. IT WILL BE EASIER TO SAVE YOUR SORRY ANUS IF YOU ARE IN GOOD HEALTH.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
YOU WILL NEED TO WEAR ME IN YOUR COLON, SO THAT YOUR FARTS SEEM

GENUINE.
That did not appeal phenomenally. “Let’s wait until the time.”
YOU MUST TAKE THE STATUE PATH.
“But that’s three thousand miles away!”
WHAT IS YOUR POINT?
Prior sighed. He made the arrangements and shut down his house. He was fortunate in being able to catch a flight for the following day. He was afraid the Spire would want to seduce every woman they encountered along the way, but it, oddly, seemed as eager to get there as he was, and behaved.

In due course Prior arrived at the home/office of Oubliette Emdee, who had set him up with the socket and assorted prosthetic penises. It wasn’t her fault that he had had little use for them the past year, because of lack of a girlfriend.

It was late when he arrived, even allowing for the time change, but there was a light on at her house. He knocked on the door, hoping she would not be annoyed by the intrusion.

She recognized him instantly. “Prior Gross! So good to see you. How’s the plumbing?” She was as luscious and businesslike as ever, wearing a kneelength skirt and her halter formed from her own long tresses. That was a trick her sister Tantamount had had too. It was marvelous the way her fine breasts bobbed with the motions of her head. “Uh, yes,” he said, feeling awkward.
I WANT HER.

Oh, no! The Spire had come to life. “What’s the matter, Prior?” she asked, concerned. “Is there a malfunction? Let me see.” She led him into the house and sat him on her patient’s table. “Not exactly,” he said.
NOW.
Meanwhile she was opening his fly. The Spire sprang out, its full length

standing tall. “You have the Spire!” Oubliette exclaimed, delighted. “Oh, I must sample

him!” “But I’m here on business,” Prior protested. “I need to walk the path.” “You can catch me up on everything while we share the Spire,” she said. She touched the tip with a finger, and was rewarded with a trace gout. “Set yourself on slow small pulses,” she said to it, and kissed the tip. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” She led Prior to a couch, pulled his pants off, drew her skirt down and off, and joined him on the cushions, expertly fitting her contours to his.

The Spire entered her immediately, sliding slowly into her deep vagina. It was a foot long, and broad at the base, so was more than any normal woman could handle. “Slowly dear, slowly,” she said to it. “I’ll accommodate.” And she did. The Spire penetrated a careful nine inches, then commenced slow pulsing as her interior gradually adapted to its expansive pressure. She intended to take it all in, but would have to stretch somewhat. Prior suspected there was some softening element in the gout substance that enabled her to take it in without discomfort.

The Spire pulsed, like the beating of a heart, sending out tiny gouts, and each pulse delivered a surge of bliss to Prior and surely to Oubliette too; he felt her channel matching the cadence. “Oh, you darling creature,” she breathed, still speaking to the Spire. “I have longed for you all my life, and now at last I feel your glory in my center. You are every woman’s fondest dream, you most marvelous of members.”

The Spire was pleased with the flattery; Prior felt its pleasure as his own. Oubliette wasn’t just praising it; she was serious.

“Now tell me all, from the start,” she said to Prior, kissing him. He knew the kiss was really for the Spire, but it was nevertheless wonderful. She was man’s dream of a woman, and it was great to have her so affectionate and obliging, despite his knowledge that it was really his member she loved rather than him personally. The cosmic dildo. “Give it to me. Take your time.” That was addressed to both man and phallic instrument. She surely knew that the Spire could communicate directly to her via its gouts, but was doing Prior the courtesy of letting him tell it. She was nice in a way her sister Tantamount hadn’t been. She also wanted to extend her session with the magic phallus, knowing that he would soon be moving on.

So while the Spire pulsed and the woman’s deep well responded, Prior talked. “The succubus who started it all a year ago has been visiting me every few weeks. I call her Suzie. She’s been sort of a girlfriend, because she knows I’ll deliver a load and not tell her supervisor that I wasn’t asleep. She’s not supposed to come to conscious men, maybe because then news of what her kind is doing would spread and people would be on guard. But we have an understanding. She gives me a really good time, and I give her a load or two, and we both pretend it never happened.”

“Or two?” Oubliette inquired, internally stroking the organ within her while distending elastically to take more of it in. She had very special anatomy.

“She’s learned to use a condom, so she can take my emission without having to change to incubus form and deliver it to a sleeping woman. That way she can stay the night, drawing a second or even a third from me in the course of a few hours, and I get the feel of a loving woman. Sure, I know it’s pretense, but that’s her role, to be my lover in exchange for the extra loads. It’s not that she’s nice, because she isn’t, but that I recover faster and deliver more if I have the illusion it’s a loving relationship. She’s getting good at it; sometimes I do think she cares.”

“A demoness? I think not. They have no souls, no conscience, no love. They do what they have to, to get what they need.” “They don’t need love?” “All the sexual demons need is semen. But they are good actors.” “Well, I guess it’s an act I need. I really crave a woman to love, who loves me back. She makes a decent substitute. She assumes different appearances, pretending to be women or girls who find me irresistible. I go for that. It’s an association of convenience.”

“Poor man,” she said sympathetically. “But with the assortment of members I gave you, you should be able to impress women.”

“I want a woman who wants me for myself, not my fancy penis. A woman like you.” He paused. “I mean, not you yourself, but—”

“One who matches my appearance, intelligence, and personality, but who isn’t all tied up in her profession. Who would have time for you.” “That’s it. I know it’s a foolish dream.” She sighed, and the motion extended into her vagina, generating another wave of feeling around the Spire. “Prior, you’re a decent man, and you have considerable courage, as your adventure on Mt. Icecream demonstrated. You’d make any woman a good if dull husband. If I were looking for a regular man, I’d consider you. But I’m not, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to pretend otherwise.”

“I understand. But decent men don’t get the girls. It’s the big, strong, handsome, rich men who have girl appeal.” “Yes, of course. It’s our nature to desire that sort of thing, just as it is

the nature of men to desire women like me and my sister.” “Tantamount,” he agreed. “I could have gone for her, if she hadn’t

ripped off my penis.” Oubliette smiled. “But you repaid her for that, didn’t you! She had to

vacate her practice and relocate.” “So I gathered. There were trucks loading smegma at her house.” She smiled again, the expression seeming to reflect internally as her flesh caressed the member pressing into her. “I must confess it was a fitting revenge. She wanted your smegma, and you gave her more than she could handle. That did alienate her.” “I guess so. Maybe I overdid it.” “Put it this way, Prior: if you were the last man on Earth, and she the last woman, she would chain you to a wall, rip off your penis, stuff dirt in your socket, and do a sexy striptease just out of your reach. Then she would consider how best to humiliate you.”