“Definitely not,” she said, wincing inwardly.
“You can’t juggle, or sew champion quilts, or cook gourmet?”
“None of the above.”
He sighed. “Then smart has to be it, though that’s a liability with some men. You must make a statement that will appeal to smart men.”
“But I’m confined to this bowel tower.”
“That is not a smart observation. You know that your every action and word is publicized. Your body may be confined, but not your words.”
Veil was mortified. He was right. She had been stupid. She hated that.
“I’ll ponder a statement,” she agreed.
“Do not take undue time. This is the third day of seven; two men have qualified, and the third is in process.”
Ouch! The sooner she acted, the better chance she would have of getting more than one good man in the lineup. But as yet she had no idea of a suitable statement. Maybe it would help to see what was already in the queue. “Please show me the first man.”
“Do you wish to interview him, or see him contesting?”
“I can interview them?” she asked surprised.
“Yes, of course. You can talk with them, question them, or have sex with them, whatever you choose, gathering information for an informed choice.”
This seemed almost too fair. Then she caught on to the catch. “And everyone else will be watching and listening.”
“Certainly. This is great entertainment for the masses. They will be judging you, and it could affect potential contestants, especially if you turn out to be sexually apt.”
Veil knew she could be as apt as any woman, but that was not the way she wanted to choose. “Show the contest.”
“A word of advice. You have been uncommonly silent of rectum. You will have to fart socially with any contestants you meet, or interviews will be pointless.”
Veil realized that this was good advice. “Thank you. I will do my best to reform.” She nerved herself and squeezed out an audible break of wind.
“Very good.” The picture shifted to the base of the huge female statue. A sultry nude woman stood there. In a moment a halfway handsome naked young man approached. “Several have tried before, this day, and been rejected,” the announcer’s voice said. “This is the one destined to succeed.”
“Actually he looks all right,” Veil said. “But it’s his mind and personality I’m more interested in.”
“For that you will need the interview. The challenge is purely physical.”
The man farted and put his arms around the woman, embracing her. She yielded to this, but did not smile. He whispered in her ear, but got no reaction. He stroked her body, cupping her full breasts in his hands. “You are the loveliest creature I have seen today,” he said.
Now she smiled and emitted a small fart. “Thank you.”
He let out a louder fart. “Your charms overcome me. I must caress you.”
The woman merely stood in his embrace, neither speaking nor moving.
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 participating.”
“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.