The Magic Fart

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Prior was bored. It had been a year since his great adventure on Mt. Icecream, where he had challenged the five deadly branches of the Cherry Tree, won the remarkable Spire, and finally recovered his small natural penis. He would hardly care to do that again, but had to admit that ordinary existence was downright dull in comparison.

Well, there was nothing wrong with dullness that couldn’t be cured by a good outrageous fuck. He would have to go out to the slots, though he really craved something a bit more romantic. But he had no girlfriend, and high quality call girls were beyond his means. So he girded his loin for something considerably less enticing.

His doorbell rang. He sighted through the peephole and saw a comely but moderately severe young woman holding a rich bouquet. What was this? He hadn’t ordered any flowers. It must be a mistake. He opened the door. “I think you have the wrong—”

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