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.