The Magic Fart

by Piers Anthony

  APOLOGY, the Spire gouted. She laughed. “I made you come, didn’t I! Who was the last woman to

  accomplish that?” EGG’S FAVORITE CONCUBINE, SEVERAL BILLION YEARS AGO. WHAT A

  CREATURE SHE WAS! A LOT LIKE YOU. “I am surely her direct descendant,” Oubliette agreed, not trying to conceal her satisfaction. “But you have ruined my carpet. Now clean it up this instant.”

  THAT’S WHAT THE CONCUBINE SAID. I SHALL HAVE TO WITHDRAW FROM YOUR DELIGHTFUL CHAMBER.

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” she agreed. “I would really like to keep you within me forever, you utterly divine implement, but to do that I’d have to retire and marry Prior, and the carpet would stink. I’m not ready for that.”

  “Let it stink,” Prior muttered. But Oubliette was already releasing the Spire; he felt it easing along her channel, inch by inch, as the two of them continued to float connected.

  “Farewell, dear,” Oubliette said as the tip of the Spire finally slid out of her belly. Her labia closed on it in a parting nether kiss.

  FAREWELL, DIVINE MORTAL. The Spire, also, hated to separate; it had not encountered a woman her equal in billions of years.

  “How can you clean this up?” Prior asked it, stifling his unreasonable jealousy. “I thought you gouted only outward.”

  TRUE. I SHALL HAVE TO GOUT A CLEANER. POINT ME AWAY FROM THAT PERFECT WOMAN. The Spire was out, but Prior was still embracing Oubliette, feeling her wonderful breasts against his chest within their mutual bath of thick fluid. “I have to let you go,” he said reluctantly.

  “Of course, Prior,” she agreed. She kissed him again, and it seemed to make his head float better. She truly could have been his ideal woman, had she had the inclination. But he had always known she was well beyond him in every respect that counted. Which increased the mystery of the succubus’ message: how could there be a woman anywhere near as good for him as this one, who would have any real interest in him? It seemed impossible.

  Then they parted and floated separately. Prior turned around and aimed the cosmic dildo toward the center of the filled room. “Ready,” he said, uncertain what was coming.

  A weird bolus fired out of the member, churning the fluid in its vicinity. Prior couldn’t see it through the opacity of the substance, but the surface dipped and formed a whirlpool leading into it. The level of the fluid descended. Soon they were able to stand, as the tide ebbed down past their chests to their waists. He couldn’t help gazing at Oubliette’s perfectly shaped breasts as they emerged from the bath; her hair halter had come undone in the throes of the rapture. They hardly needed such support, upstanding despite their mass. She saw him looking, and smiled understandingly.

  The level dropped below their crotches, uncovering the Spire. It was flaccid, an unusual state for it; it truly had climaxed and was quiescent, apart from the bolus it had emitted. That continued to draw in fluid, making a sucking sound as air also went into it. “What is that thing?” Prior asked. A SMALL BLACK HOLE, it gouted. “A black hole!” Prior exclaimed. “That’s dangerous.” “Do not be alarmed,” Oubliette said. “The Spire knows what he’s do

  ing.” “I hope so.” Prior retreated to the side of the room. He knew that a black hole had so much gravity that nothing escaped it, not even light, and indeed this one was a blob of darkness. Its event horizon was only about three inches across, but it was gulping in fluid at a phenomenal rate. It had been more like one inch before; it was growing as it fed.

  Before long all the liquid was gone. The black hole started to consume the floor. “My carpet!” Oubliette protested. “Do something,” Prior told the Spire. “Before it comes after us.” AIM ME AT IT. Prior lifted the limp member and pointed it at the black hole. Another bolus emerged, this one a blindingly bright pinpoint of light. It flew toward the black hole and circled it, caught in its gravity well. It spiraled in, ever more rapidly, until it disappeared into the event horizon. Then the black hole abruptly faded out. “What was that?” Prior asked, amazed.

  A WHITE HOLE. THEY MERGED OUT INTO NOTHING. “I never heard of a white hole!” YOUR CULTURE IS SCIENTIFICALLY BACKWARD, FORTUNATELY. “I’ll have to replace the carpet,” Oubliette said crossly. Prior had a bright idea. “Spire—” AGREED. AIM ME. Prior held it up, pointing it at the center of the room. It convulsed, and from it shot a mass of substance. The mass flattened as it extended, becoming colorful. It reached the far side of the room, then broadened as it sank to the floor, showing a furry surface. It was a new carpet!

  The material kept spewing out, until finally it settled across the entire chamber. It wasn’t just a rug; it was an enormously elaborate Persian carpet featuring an intricately woven picture of an ancient sultan making out with six luscious bare concubines simultaneously. That was quite a trick; his penis, tongue, both index fingers and both big toes were embedded in their open vaginas. Complicating the picture was a handsomely garbed woman just coming on the scene, surely his wife, who would demand equal service. What did he have left for her?

  “That’s the famous King’s Dilemma carpet!” Oubliette exclaimed. “It was stolen a thousand years ago. It was reputed to be magic.” SORRY ABOUT THAT, the Spire gouted. IT WAS WHAT WAS AVAILABLE. YES, IT IS A FLYING CARPET. Prior repeated its message to her. “I’ll take it!” Oubliette said. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” She dropped to her knees and kissed the Spire. It quivered, recovering some erotic ambition. Perceiving that, she put her mouth around it and drew it in, farther and farther, while Prior stood in place, feeling rather left out. She kept working it in until almost the whole of it was down her throat. Only the thick base remained outside, too broad for her delicate mouth to compass. But she kept sucking and swallowing, silently urging it to perform.

  The Spire was flattered; Prior felt its feeling. Oubliette truly understood it and liked it for its history as well as its capacity to deliver sexual pleasure. It gouted. Prior felt a surge of bliss jet from it and forge into her stomach. She had indeed evoked its potency again. Joy surged into her innards, so much better than the finest food or drink, transporting Prior as well in passing. She was getting a meal of divine seminal fluid, filling her stomach much as the meter maid had gotten her colon filled. It would surely last her a long time, giving pleasure as it progressed along her alimentary system in the course of the next few days.

  The last gout faded. She drew her head back slowly, once again letting the long shaft slide out, adoring it on the way. Again, as the tip appeared, she kissed it. “Thank you, Spire,” she murmured. “For everything.” It gouted again, sending a thin stream between her lips. WHEN I AM

  DONE WITH PRIOR, PERHAPS I COULD RETURN TO BE IN YOUR LABORATORY.

  “Oh, yes, yes, Spire!” she said dreamily, licking the goo from her lips. “Welcome anytime. My business is artificial penises; you are the ultimate in that respect.” OF COURSE. It seemed they had made a date. Prior still felt somewhat isolated. “Maybe

  we should clean up.” Her fair visage clarified. She became aware of him. “Of course, Prior.

  This way.” She led him to her bathroom, where they had a steamy shower together and washed each other off. She paid him a lot of attention and hugged him several times, stroking her soapy breasts across him. He knew she was trying to make him feel better, and it was effective.

  She also cautioned him again about dealing with the anonymous Maiden in the Tower. “She surely resents being abducted and put on exhibition like that. She may be angry at the man who wins her. That’s understandable. Don’t give her a chance to reject you; touch her with the Spire. She will then want sex, of course, and you will oblige her. But remember she is your ideal woman; you want to win her favor, not merely use her. Treat her as you would the woman you love, so as to win her love. Only then will she truly be yours.”

  “Uh, sure,” he agreed, uncertain why she was orienting so firmly on this aspect. Why should she care whether he won his ideal woman? To make sure he didn’t decide he wanted Oubliette herself? But she knew he knew she was hopeless
ly out of his reach.

  “You seem doubtful of my motive,” she said. “Perhaps this will clarify it: you are the one who carries the Spire. If you don’t bring him back to me, I won’t have him.” That did make sense. “I won’t need it, once I have my ideal woman.” “Exactly. I want you to win her.” She gave him a last luxurious embrace

  and kiss, then stepped out of the shower. She had to find him new clothes, because his were sopping. Fortunately she had a fair supply, perhaps from male clients. “Maybe you should be anonymous, too,” she said. “You have grown a mustache, which changes your face; that’s good. Maybe some gray tint to your sideburns will make you look older.” “Why should I be anonymous?” “Because it could be a trap. Maybe someone there knows you have the

  Spire, and wants to take him from you. You must not give them that chance.” That did make sense. He let her tint his hair, and cut it so that it changed

  the apparent shape of his face. By this time it was late. “I shouldn’t ask, I know it,” she said. “But the Spire is just so—so—”

  He opened his new trousers and drew it out. She embraced him stand ing, feeding the Spire up under her skirt and into her pantyless cleft. It remained not fully erect, having been softened by her considerable prior attentions, but it stiffened as it encountered her flesh, and in a moment sent a nice gout up into her. She thrilled once more to its offering. Then she kissed Prior again and showed him to his room for the night.

  Tomorrow he would set out on the statue path. That was bound to be its own challenge.

  Chapter 8—Farting off

  Veil had seen more than she cared to of the ways of Fartingale, but realized that she had to learn more. The better she understood the contestants, the better equipped she would be to deal with them. So she would have to watch more of them coming up.

  She got Chance squared away, then watched that day’s contests. This time there were female challengers. The first one advanced on the male demon awaiting her. Both were naked, according to the competition rules. She was full breasted, actually more than full; her breasts sagged somewhat, borne down by their own masses, but were surely quite appealing to the male eye. She embraced him, pressing those big breasts against his chest. “You’re such a virile hunk of a man,” she said, farting enthusiastically. “I want to have a piece of you.”

  The demon’s penis twitched as he let an answering fart; she had pushed a male button. But it did not become erect.

  “Lie down here,” she said, taking him by the hand. He obeyed, lying on his back. She kneeled beside him, her long black hair falling to cover him like a blanket, and stroked her hands across his chest and belly. “Oh, yes,” she said. “You have a great big cock. I want to get it in my cunt.”

  Veil did not like the gutter terminology, but evidently it didn’t bother the demon. His member swelled to half mast. Many men did like to hear women talk dirty.

  “And handsome too,” she continued, stroking his face. She kissed him on the mouth, lingeringly, her hair forming a tent across his face. The penis grew another notch. Yes, he was indeed programmed to respond to certain key stimuli.

  The woman stroked his belly again, this time descending to his member. She lifted it in her fingers, admiring it, then put her mouth to it. She licked its tip, circled the glans with her tongue, and took it into her mouth. She sucked competently on it, and it swelled farther. “Your virility has got me all worked up,” she said. “Fuck me, before I die of deprivation.” She lay on the bed beside him, lifting and spreading her legs invitingly.

  The demon obliged. He got on her and inserted his penis an inch. “Oh, what a great pecker!” she said. “It just makes my pussy so hot. I’ve never had a better one in me. Give me some more, you manly man.”

  These were the correct words. The demon drove in another inch. Veil was impressed, not with the woman’s too-obvious ploys, but with the precision of the control of the demon. He was doing exactly what the manual required for a given stimulus, not more, not less. He was now in about halfway, his member half visible.

  “Oh, you’re teasing me with that monster,” the woman said. “Don’t make me suffer longer! Shove your big lusty cock all the way into my hot wet cunt!”

  The demon obliged. The woman moaned in simulated passion and wrapped her legs around him. “Fuck me harder!” she begged. “Pull it out, shove it in! Fuck me into my biggest orgasm. Jet your cum right into my eager crack!”

  Again the demon obliged, thrusting repeatedly while she expressed con tinuing delight at his prowess. Veil nodded; the average man would do that, enjoying the experience even if he knew she was faking. The average man hardly cared whether the woman got any satisfaction out of the interaction, just as long as she was comely and willing. Or even if she wasn’t willing. The mere availability of a vagina sufficed to put him into action.

  The demon climaxed, pulling his penis out at the last moment so the spectators could see it jet. The woman had made him come within the time limit, and had qualified.

  Except that there was another woman on the scene. She had long fair hair. That seemed to be a thing with the women of this culture: hair that was at least a yard long, worn loose. Veil realized that her own four foot long hair might have been an element in her desirability as a potential sex slave. Except that her captor had arranged to conceal it. That was an oddity; couldn’t he have masked only her face?

  Now the new woman approached the demon. “Normal sex is so bor ing,” she said, farting sweetly. “I’ll show you some kinky fun.”

  The demon merely looked at her. If she failed to make him climax on time, he would surely have some kinky fun with her. After seeing what the demoness had done to the losing male, Veil didn’t care to guess what the demon would do to a helpless woman. So she found herself hoping that the woman would win through, despite her misgiving over the presence of any women in this contest. What would a woman want with another woman for a sex slave? She had to be an aggressive lesbian that other lesbians couldn’t tolerate. Veil did not want to be the plaything of a brute man, but she was more averse to being the plaything of a twisted woman.

  “Try some of this,” the woman said, taking the demon’s two hands. She planted them on her breasts, beneath her flowing tresses. “Squeeze them.” He did. His penis thickened a notch; men did like to handle breasts. “And this,” she said, taking his right hand and putting it to her mouth. She sucked on his thumb. His penis grew a bit more.

  Now that was interesting, Veil thought. The thumb was an analogy of the penis; figuratively this was penis into vagina. The fact that it made him respond indicated that the demons were programmed for figurative as well as literal.

  “And this,” the woman said as she lay on the bed and lifted her legs. She brought his hand in to her genital region and slid his damp thumb into her vagina. “How’s that feel, big man?” she asked as she worked it back and forth. She hardly needed to inquire; his penis had risen to half mast. The analogy was now only half analogy, as her vagina was the real thing. But where was she leading?

  “Now let’s get serious,” the woman said. “Lie there.” Obligingly, he lay on his back on the bed. She put her right thumb in her own mouth and worked it around. Then she put it to his anus, stroking it with saliva. “Loosen up that pucker, big man.” He did, letting a fart swish out. She pushed her thumb into his rectum.

  Well, this was different, Veil thought. But some men did like to be pen etrated by women, in a kind of turnabout. Indeed, the demon’s member stiffened the rest of the way. He was programmed for kinky sex too. But though his penis was now fully erect, she couldn’t get it into her without removing her thumb.

  She didn’t try. Instead she bestrode him, facing away from his head, and brought his hand around and forced his thumb up her own anus. “Push it in there, deep as you can,” she told him. He pushed, and it penetrated its full short length. Now they had exchanged asses, as it were.

  Finally she put her head down and sucked on his phallus, framing it with he
r hair. At the same time her thumb was pumping in and out of his rectum, and his was doing the same with hers. She hollowed her cheeks, applying strong vacuum.

  The triple stimulation was effective. In a moment the demon climaxed. His groin jumped as he thrust deeper into her mouth. His orgasm was manifest.

  As his member spurted, she spat it out, so that it jetted on his own belly. She had made him come; this was the proof. But she left her thumb in his rectum, and kept his in hers for a moment longer, evidently enjoying the feel of both. Yes, she was into kinky sex. But she had defeated the demon.

  Veil thought about that. The woman had never had the demon’s penis in her vagina. She had put his thumb in her mouth, then in her vagina, and then into her rectum, and her thumb into his rectum. But she had finished him off with her mouth. This could mean that she didn’t like having a man’s member in her key orifice. Yet the way she had indulged in other interactions suggested that she was turned on by penetration. She might be seeking a woman to penetrate, in her peculiar fashion.

  Veil had no intention of subjecting herself to that. Far easier to deal with a man, who generally lost interest after he jetted.

  Now it was time for the two women to settle with each other. They would not be having sex, according to the rules, but a farting off, as the announcer explained. The winner would be the candidate for the day. Veil watched with a certain fascinated aversion.

  They entered a spherical wire cage that rested on a wider floor. The door was latched. The two women faced each other, having room enough to stand but not to get more than an arm’s length away from each other. They grappled. There was no scratching or hair pulling; this was not a fight but a competition. The first woman, who had seduced the demon in normal fashion, was of slighter build despite her larger breasts, and seemed to be at a disadvantage. Indeed, Kinky soon wrestled Normal to the floor, holding her upper body down by the weight of her body.