Chapter 2 The Equitable Distribution of Bruce
“Welcome back to the love dungeon, ladies!” Bruce cried out from his cocoon of poisoned heart vines.
It seemed like hours had passed since Gentle Ginger and Rough Annie landed him in their man trap only to abandon him in favor of important witch’s work. He was relieved they’d finally returned. Watching Temple’s first orgy on Ginger’s looking glass was better than staring at the ceiling, but his broomstick was revved up now. He was eager to prove his mettle to the renowned crones.
“I hope you were able to dial up some entertainment on that old gizmo,” Ginger said, nodding at the glass. “I haven’t kept the operating system updated.”
Bruce offered it to her. When Ginger stepped close enough to take the glass, he pulled it back, drawing the old witch nearer, a fly courting a spider. The crone cackled and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. She grasped his broomstick and fondled his family jewels. Bruce groaned. His cock grew longer and harder with each seasoned stroke. The poisoned heart vines had awakened, too, and their tendrils teased every inch of skin that Ginger failed to annex.
Rough Annie intervened with a shrill shriek. “Wait just a minute, you greedy gorgon! You don’t honestly think you get the first go at him, do you, you ravenous banshee?”
Gentle Ginger sighed and straightened herself, smoothing out her apron, much to Bruce’s dismay. “You’re right, sister. I apologize. It was inconsiderate of me. After so many centuries of working side by side, we should cum at the same time, too.”
“Two thousand-year orgasms at the same time?” Bruce said. His cock throbbed, muffling the alarm that sounded in his brain.
Rough Annie rubbed her hands together. “That’s right. Two thousand years of orgasmic energy unleashed in one go.”
“That’s not dangerous?” Bruce had some concerns. He also had a raging hard-on, and he was pinned to a wall by a lascivious vine. He hoped the old girls knew what they were doing because this was above his pay grade.
“Pshaw,” Rough Annie said and spit on the floor. A dandelion sprouted in the crack where her spittle had landed. It threw its seeds off, bloomed like a small sun, and curled back between the cracks. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Annie designed a machine for safely diverting the energy,” Ginger reassured him.
“That’s convenient,” Bruce said, admiring Annie’s intelligent profile.
“Not convenient,” Annie snorted. “I didn’t have it lying around just in case you wandered by our cottage, you epic dunderhead. I had a few minutes after we finished our new potion, so I invented it.”
“So it hasn’t been tested?”
“You insult me, muskrat! When I invent a machine for channeling orgasmic energy, you can take it to the bank. I’m a certified genius.”
“I’m sorry, Annie,” Bruce said sheepishly. “I’m just feeling vulnerable, I guess, trussed up here in your dungeon.”
Annie accepted Bruce’s apology and then came quickly to the next matter. “We’ll have to cut him in half. Lengthwise, obviously.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, and his staff shrunk into the vines as if it sensed danger.
“Stop it, Annie,” Gentle Ginger said with a warning look at her coven sister.
“Fine,” the crone conceded. “I would’ve put him back together, but I suppose we could clone him instead.”
“How long would that take?” Bruce asked. It wasn’t that he loved the idea of competition from himself, but he’d rather be two Bruces than half a Bruce if those were his only options. Pretty simple math, even for a woodsman who majored in lovecrafting.
“Oh,” Annie said, performing much more complex alchemical calculations in her head. “We could whip up another batch of Bruce in under an hour, I’d say. We’ve already got your goods in the bathtub, ready to go.”
“We just need to clear up some admin first, dearie. We need permission to use your DNA, of course,” Gentle Ginger said and then bit her lip. “And we need to discuss who’ll take custody of Bruce II afterwards. I’m afraid my sister and I are much too busy to raise a man, and really, you’re better suited to the job as he’s just a newer model of you. I’m sure you know all the shortcuts and workarounds. It only seems natural—”
Bruce didn’t like where this was going, but the alternative was still less enticing.
“Fine. I’ll take Bruce II with me,” he said with a put upon sigh.
Rough Annie grunted. She still wasn’t satisfied. “I thought we’d just split him in half. It’d be easier and faster and, frankly, more fun. I’ve already been working in the lab all day. I’m really not interested in spending another hour roasting up a new rooster when we’ve already got a perfectly good one here and now.”
“Sweetheart, my rooster is legendary,” Bruce reminded her.
Rough Annie shrugged, unimpressed, “I’ve seen better. They say you’ve mastered every technique in the lovecrafting manual, muskrat. Are you a cunning linguist? The master of many tongues? Do you possess the gift of glossolalia?”
“There’s only one way to find out, Annie,” he said with a sly wink and a flick of his pink tongue.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll take his face. He’s not much to look at anyway,” the curmudgeonly crone said. “We can make the pornographic pyramid.”
“Oh! The pornographic pyramid!” Ginger clapped. “I hadn’t even thought of that. You truly are a genius, sister. Why, that’s even better than two Bruces! Just think of the energy we’ll harness. Let’s get him hooked up to the machine straight away.”
Relieved by a compromise that didn’t result in either bisection or bringing up a new Bruce, old Bruce’s enchanted broomstick pierced the poisoned heart vines again.