Carpe Phallum Ch. 01

Though the citizens had all benefited from the city's diversity, there was still xenophobic sentiment. Few would argue that they would be better off without access to Elvin magic or Goblin clockwork. This helped make the public more accepting of non-humans, to one degree or another but some still viewed them as a threat. Some neighborhoods were overtly hostile to non-humans and others merely covertly hostile.

The aristocracy, who mostly kept to the posh neighborhoods like Twatwitch and Knob-Goblin Hill, took the unfortunate and incorrect viewpoint that they were better than common humans and so logically, non-humans ranked even lower. This ignorant belief was mimicked by those who mindlessly emulated the aristocrats in a sad attempt to elevate their station.

The central neighborhood of Scroatsburg was called the Annulus or the Anus among indelicate circles. It was named for the ring formed by the old city wall. Most government buildings were located in this neighborhood, and it's where Trixie began her cross-city trek.

As she passed through the gate, she chuckled at some graffiti on the wall. It read Abandon all hope ye who enter the Anus and under it, someone had added, That's what your mom said last night. She liked walking around the neighborhood, but today it was all a blur as she hustled to get home. A couple of shortcuts and she was at her door in record time.

As soon as she got home, she wiggled out of her stolen shirt and threw it out the window. With her tits freed, she packed the essentials; underwear, toiletries, and lube. When she got to clothing, she had a problem. Her wardrobe was almost entirely slutty clubwear. She had some comfy stuff and innocuous work clothing, but since moving to Scroatsburg she hadn't needed formal wear. Showing up in Fossegrim looking like she had just fallen off the turnip wagon by way of the brothel was not the image she wished to project. There was nothing for it but to go see Marcy. Luckily, Marcy was on the way. She packed some comfy travel clothing and a couple slutty things, should the opportunity arise, and moved on.

There were many hazards on her travel route; yokels, polite small talk, pirates, and worst of all boredom. She fondled Agatha's shaft; Agatha was her glaive. If you were to picture a big, sharp, fuck-off blade attached to the end of a long, stout stick, you wouldn't be far off. Her mother hadn't believed in relying on others for self-defense so when Trixie was a child she trained with staves. As she advanced she moved on to spears and then polearms.The irony that she would prefer shafted weapons was not lost on her.

Showing up with Agatha strapped to her back might send the wrong message; this was a trade negotiation after all. Instead, she grabbed a short spear and some knives. She hastily scribbled a note to her landlord instructing him to send all bills to the Office of Weights and Measures, grabbed her bag, and sprinted off to beg Marcy for help.

- - -

Marcy Meretrix was Trixie's friend, occasional sex partner, and a clothier of note in the region. Her shop, Sacro-Sainte, was brimming with garments, fabric samples, and art from all corners of Uzha's Knee. Truly, it was a masterpiece of chaos. Paradoxically, her outfit was the picture of order. High heels, robin's-egg blue pantsuit, deep-plunge blouse, and lapis earrings.

"Trixie, you sexy bitch, what are you doing here?" Marcy squealed with delight and gave Trixie a big hug, kiss, and fondle.

"I'm totally fucked! I have this big formal event and I have nothing to wear!"

"Ohh sure, I can sort you out," Marcy replied. "By when do you need it, my love?"

"Err, now..."

"Now? Like, right this minute?" Marcy looked at Trixie as if she had just paired red and pink. "Do you think I'm some sort of clothing sorceress? That I can wave my magic wand and poof you're immaculately dressed?"

"I'm sorry, Mar! This just got sprung on me. I came to you because you're the best and I do think you're a clothing sorceress. You're my only hope in this fashion wasteland... please, help me."

"Flatterer! But yeah, okay, I'll help. Custom is out. No time for tailoring. Let me go pull some stuff from the back. You owe me big for this one, you're throwing off my whole itinerary!"

"Thank you! I'll make it up to you when I get back, anything you want."

"Anything? You delicious slut! I'll hold you to that," she called out from the back room as she selected and discarded various options. "What vibe are we going for?"

"Formal, high society stuff. I got railroaded into a trade negotiation in Fossegrim because I'm from there," replied Trixie.

"Ahh, so you're Grimen. Does that mean your dick is your fey-touch thingy? Put this on."

"Yeah--how did you think I came by it?" Trixie wrestled herself into the dress.

"What? Oh sweetie, some of us are born with the right anatomy and some aren't. I've made peace with mine, but I know people who've gone to great lengths to...find their true shape." Marcy trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. "So yeah, when a woman with a massive cock falls in my lap, I just enjoy the ride."

Trixie nodded and studied herself in the mirror. The jade green dress that Marcy had selected looked amazing and really complimented her hair, but it was very revealing. "Is this maybe too slutty for a trade negotiation? I feel trussed up like some sort of sexy Yuletide ham."

"Nonsense darling. Think of this as another weapon in your arsenal. Wear it with confidence, you'll distract and confound them. Their little brains flooded with primal urges," Marcy mimed a cat stalking "they'll make a mistake, and you'll pounce on them like prey." Marcy pounced on her.

Trixie giggled. "You make it sound so sexy. I hope you're right. I need all the help I can get." She stripped down and packed away her new outfit. "I have to catch the SLAG but thank you so much!" Trixie gave Marcy a big kiss and squeezed her ass. "I can't wait to see what perverted, degrading, things you'll demand of me when I return."

"You look hot, girl. Knock 'em dead."

- - -

Trixie had just enough time to grab some snacks. She routed her path through the market where she picked up some basic fare and treats to stave off boredom. As she approached the station she could see a giant sign that read Scroatsburg Locomotory Auto-boiler Gastram Station, commonly called SLAG Station. The SLAG was a large steam-powered transportation machine built and operated by goblins. In the early days, there was a pretty fair chance that something would explode or fall off and the machine would grind to a halt on its rails stranding its passengers until it was repaired. These days, with the Mark 105 model, parts only occasionally fell off, rarely exploded, and the tram seldom ground to a halt.

She hurried to the station. A sign at the entrance read, The SLAG waits for no one. This was their idea of a marketing slogan, and it sort of worked. You could be certain that so long as you were on time you wouldn't have to wait for any stragglers. Conversely, if you were one of those stragglers you knew you'd be left behind.

She found her platform and boarded the tram with only a minute to spare. Having made it, she took a moment to relax, watch the platform slide by, and take stock of her day. She did enjoy fucking Odette and the travel pay was good. If she didn't spend it all on blitz weed and hookers she wouldn't have to blow her landlord for a while. Still being forced to do her job and travel to her hometown was a shit sandwich she had not anticipated. Trixie went in search of the bar car.

She made her way through the cars, casually peeking in the compartment windows she passed. In one compartment she saw a couple having a heated argument about drapery. In another, there were six elves drunkenly singing. In the next compartment, she saw a mature, attractive woman giving a younger, attractive woman a rigorous, bare-bottom spanking. Trixie was enthralled and watched as the barrage of slaps turned into some gentle fingering. A few moments later they resumed spanking. The young woman's ass was the most lovely shade of red. They vacillated between fingering and spanking both growing in intensity until the spankee orgasmed dramatically.

As Trixie slunk away from the window, aroused and sporting a palpable erection, she wondered what had the young woman done to deserve such treatment.

Either she's been very bad or she's been very good...