To his surprise, she nodded. “It wouldn’t work, unless you transformed into a merman. Of course that would happen if you nursed long enough.”
Her fresh air would transform him to half a fish? “Uh, thanks all the same, no.”
She didn’t fuss; she had expected his demurral. “But it’s been great. If you should ever change your mind, I’ll be here.” She caught his head and kissed him again.
At that point the Spire withdrew, and her lips hardened.
NO DEMON CAN GIVE YOU TRUE HAPPINESS, it gouted.
It was surely true. But Prior felt almost guilty about leaving the expressive mermaid.
They moved on, interacting with assorted statues. Then they came to a centaur filly. She was a problem, because her human fore section was well removed from her equine hind section. He wasn’t sure a gout in the rear would bring her to life all the way to the front. How could he talk with her?
IT IS FEASIBLE, the Spire assured him. IT WILL REQUIRE A FAIR INFUSION, BUT YOU WILL BE ABLE TO ANIMATE HER FACE.
“If you say so,” Prior agreed doubtfully. He approached the centaur’s posterior.
It was too high for him to reach. He had to scout for some separate stones to pile behind the statue. He stood on them, and was able to get there. He fed the Spire under her tail and into her huge vaginal orifice.
A small gout softened the stone, allowing further entry. A second gout animated the interior, and finally the Spire penetrated to its full length. Prior stood there, his crotch up against the statue.
Now the Spire started gouting in earnest. It sent surges in, filling the chamber. There seemed to be plenty of room for more. The furry flank softened and warmed. Color came to the hide, coursing from the tail on up toward the front.
The centaur bent. The frozen human section was carried around to the left. With each gout it moved farther, until the torso formed a huge U. The stone forelegs, breasts, and face came around to face Prior. But the eyes remained blank.
Oh. He leaned to the side and into her and managed to reach her face with his mouth. His groin remained attached to hers, so the position was awkward, but feasible. He kissed her lips at a slightly skew angle.
They warmed. “Thank you, Prior,” she said. “It is kind of you to animate me, however briefly.”
“You know my name!” he exclaimed.
She laughed, her huge breasts bouncing. “The Spire told me, with his gouts. They can be very communicative. The news reached my brain before you freshened my face.”
That seemed to make sense, in this context. “Then you know that we— ”
“Yes, of course, and I have already fixed the path. Your next statue will be there. I do appreciate this visit.”
“Uh, sure, welcome.” He was at a lost for useful words.
She smiled and kissed him again. “You are so pleasantly naïve. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to form before the Spire withdraws, so I will be a presentable statue.”
“That’s fine,” he said lamely. These statues had a lot more personality than he had anticipated, this time around.
She got straight, the Spire sent one more gout and withdrew. She smiled, then slowly congealed.
At last they came to a huge statue of a naked man sitting on a toilet, leaning forward in deep concentration. His right elbow rested on his right knee, his hand supporting his forehead. It was clear that he had some truly weighty matter on his noble mind.
THAT’S THE STINKER, the spire gouted. HE GUARDS THE ACCESS TO FARTINGALE. YOU MUST PUT ME IN YOUR RECTUM NOW.
Somehow this did not appeal to Prior. He didn’t mind using the Spire to fill other rectums, but he preferred to keep his own clear. “I’ll just walk past without activating him.”
YOU’LL BE SORRY. But the Spire did not try to stop him. Prior started to circle the statue. There was a sound like a cosmic section of cloth ripping, and a truly appalling stench wafted out from the toilet. Prior caught one whiff, gagged, and fell to the ground, retching.
After a while the potent gas dissipated, and he was able to recover enough to climb back on his feet. “I got the message.” He dropped his pants, unscrewed the Spire, screwed a six inch circumcised member on, then gingerly poked the tip of the Spire into his anus.
NOT THAT WAY, IDIOT, it gouted, jetting a jot of goo on the resistive pucker. I MUST POINT OUTWARD.
Oh. Of course. He reversed the implement. But now he had another problem: its substantial base was far too wide to pass the sphincter. But then the Spire shrank to much smaller size, and he was able to slide it in. Once there, he felt it expanding again, shaping itself to his rectum so that it was firmly anchored, with the tip just shy of the anus. It was oddly comfortable.
NOW I WILL SALUTE THE STINKER. Prior bent over so that his posterior faced the statue. The Spire emitted a whistling peal of gas that formed a small cloud and drifted up to puff into the statue’s face.
The effect was immediate. The face came to life. “The Spire!” the Stinker said. “What an honor.”
NOW TALK TO HIM.
Prior pulled up his pants, turned around, and spoke. “Uh, hello. I’m Prior Gross. I need to go to Fartingale to rescue my ideal woman.”
“And the Spire farts for you,” the Stinker said. “Of course you may pass.” He eyed Prior. “But waste no time in getting appropriate clothing. The natives don’t much like strangers unless they come bearing gold, sex slaves, or superlative farts.”
“Thank you. I will do my best.” The statue solidified. Prior walked by it. This time it let him pass. He had made it to Fartingale.
Chapter 10—Interviews
It was the fourth day of her confinement, and Veil was not optimistic about her fate. She was unable to tell whether the fourth qualifying candidate, a man of middle age, was intellectual, as the contest did not test that quality.
But perhaps she could find out. She would interview the first four qualifiers, and discover whether any of them were remotely acceptable. She hoped for one she would be able to tolerate, as a fall-back choice in case the three qualifiers to come turned out to be even worse.
She tackled them in turn. The first was a rather brutish looking man with a huge gut capable of generating formidable gas, as she had seen in the playback video. She did not ask his name; she thought of him as Gut. He was admitted to the residential intestine with the understanding that the interview was under the control of the Maiden, and any untoward move could disqualify him.
“May the farts be with you,” he said jovially, letting a moderately loud one out.
“And with you,” she agreed politely. She doubted she would ever be entirely easy with this social convention, but it was necessary to honor the local forms. She forced herself, and managed to emit a ladylike break of wind.
“You’re a great looking dame,” he remarked. “Good boobs, good buns, great ass.”
“Thank you.” He was truly meaning to compliment her. “I’ll fart with you anytime.”
It was time to get to business. “As you know,” she said delicately, “I am the anonymous Maiden in the Tower. I must choose one of seven to be my sex master for the coming year. I wish to know more about you, to determine whether we might be compatible.”
“Compatible, shmatible,” he said derisively, blowing out another solid fart. “I got a cock, you got a cunt, we both got assholes. What’s to compat? My pecker’ll fit, even if your pussy is small; I just have to jam it in hard enough.”
This did not seem promising. But she was determined to conceal her private reactions. “True, and I’m sure the fit will be adequate to satisfy you. But there are other things in a relationship than sex and intestinal gas.”