April 2022 Story - The Finger Curse (Chapter 7) (Patreon)

Penelope was besides herself. While Agnes had gone off to continue planning her wedding, Penelope cleaned her room. But she was so distracted that she could not focus on doing anything properly. She forgot to tuck in the bedsheets and change the pillows. For the most part, she daydreamed by staring out the window.

Who knew that the most beautiful princess in the realm could break wind like that? Why did she play “pull my finger”? What was going on?

It took twenty whole minutes for her to finally make the princess’s bed. When she finished, a tempting thought crept in her mind. She ran her hands across the comforter and realized that the bed was still warm from Agnes laying on it. Without caring to check if anyone was approaching the bedroom, she crawled onto the bed and laid there, arms and legs sprawled. She closed her eyes and imagined Agnes there with her.

Penelope slowly reached down underneath her dress and began touching herself.

I shouldn’t do this, she thought. I shouldn’t do this. But by the gods I’m so…so taken by her!

She clasped her mouth as she moaned, thinking over and over about Princess Agnes breaking wind in front of her. How she would do anything to see that again…and to lay down with her on the bed and feel her as she farted.

Penelope, flushed to the point of sweating, finished herself with her hand tightly clasped around her mouth. She screamed into it, muffling her cries. She continued touching herself slower…and slower…until she let out a long sigh and stopped. She convulsed and sprawled herself over the bed, wishing she could hold Agnes to enjoy this sweet, ecstatic moment. She gripped a pillow and held onto it, relaxing and sighing.

“Agnes…” she whispered. “Oh. Agnes…”

The princess’s name felt natural to utter during her orgasm.

#

Agnes paid little attention to anyone or anything throughout the day. Lord Filmore had to snap her back into reality about discussing the music for their ceremony. They had been sitting in the castle living room for almost an hour as Lord Filmore discussed with a fellow composer the meanings behind different songs.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” Lord Filmore asked.

“Hm? Oh. A little lightheaded. Nothing serious. Will you excuse me? I have been sitting for too long. I need to walk around.”

Lord Filmore nodded. “But of course.”

Agnes wandered the castle halls, all the while still thinking about how she broke wind in front of Penelope. The two of them had run into each other in the hallway a moment before. Penelope squeaked when she saw Agnes and immediately walked the other way while keeping her head down. That did not make Agnes feel any better about it.

At the same time though…

Agnes admitted, however hushed in the back of her mind, that breaking wind without any reservation was the biggest guilty pleasure in the world. All these years she had held back. This was the one time she let everything out without any way to hold anything back. It was pleasant to breathe easy again after holding her breath for so long. It was a strange feeling to not want to be distended but at the same time be pleased by the relief of distention. Her bowels were finally at ease, and her dress fit. Her dress even fluttered as she broke wind. That was quite amusing and quite impressive.

Agnes then shook her head.

“Ugh. Disgusting,” she muttered to herself. She thought about the stench and wanted to gag then and there.

They were only fleeting, intrusive thoughts. It was one pleasant experience and nothing more.

She wished she could tell Penelope that everything was all right, but throughout the rest of the day she kept avoiding the princess like a scared little mouse. She was glad to have Penelope around to trust and wanted her to know that there was no shame in what happened between them.

A certain warmth filled her up deep inside when she thought about their shared secret. She realized that nobody else had heard her break wind before. There was some sweet solace in that. She thought nothing more of it and went about with planning her wedding.

Things took a turn when Agnes woke up the next morning with windy bowels.

She ignored it initially and continued having a lazy morning sprawled in her bed. Any moment now she would be able to break wind…

Any moment…

The wind only got worse.

Agnes sat up and said, “It cannot be…can it? I thought I broke the spell!”

She relaxed and breathed slowly. It had to come out. It had to.

Nothing happened.

She tried various positions that she would normally find disgraceful, but she was becoming more desperate by the second. She tried lifting her leg as high as she could, either standing or lying down. She tried pressing up her belly against the edge of the bed or her writing desk. She tried lying on her back on the floor and bringing her knees up to her chest, hugging them tight.

“No!” she then cried aloud. “This cannot be! No, no, no, no!”

Agnes stopped complaining and laid there on the floor, defeated. She had to test this out immediately. She got up and rang for Penelope, swinging the bell viciously like she was warning soldiers about invaders.

Penelope did not come.

Agnes rang again.

She almost had to ring a third time before Penelope finally showed up. She looked flushed and kept her head low.

“Y-yes, milady. Apologies for the delay.”

“Close the door. Now.”

Agnes paced the room. She had to tell Penelope about the spell. The very thought of it made her uncomfortable and anxious. She huffed and huffed as she paced the room, and Penelope asked, “Is…something the matter, milady? You seem very distressed.”

“Penelope, I…”

For once, she was at a complete loss for words. To think – the Princess of Dalria at a loss for words? Unheard of. She always knew what to say and how to say it. The whole experience made her feel so vulnerable that it was sickening.

Agnes gritted her teeth and went straight to the point.

“Penelope, I need you to pull my finger again.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. She looked down at Agnes’s finger but made no move to pull it.

“Penelope?”

“Uh. Uh….”

“Penelope! I order you to pull my finger at once!”

Penelope jumped at the outburst and did so.

They both heard a very audible grumble from Agnes’s stomach, and before Agnes could even try to let it out slowly, she broke wind loudly and uncouthly.

PPPPPPPPPFfffffFFFffffFBbbbBBBBbRRrRrrrrRRRttttTTTtttTTT!

“Gah!” Agnes said, sighing. But the relief was short-lived. She stamped her foot and cried, “Dammit all! That old crone tricked me!”

“The old crone? Milady…is…everything--”

“Excuse me, Penelope, but I need to be alone. I need to think through something. But I once again thank you for doing what needs to be done. And I trust you will not tell a soul of what I asked of you.”

Penelope bowed. “Y-yes, milady!”

#

It was late at night and Penelope found some time alone in the kitchen and needed a cup of tea to sort through the day. The king, queen, and, presumably, the princess had all gone to bed. There were only a few servants awake, and aside from that the guards out by the front gate.

The large halls and chambers of Dalria Castle intimidated Penelope. She preferred to be in the kitchen, which was much smaller but homey and cozy. It reminded her of the house she grew up in by the outskirts of the city, before her mother brought her to the castle to serve the royal family.

What in the realm was happening to the princess? Never in a million years would Penelope imagine Agnes to be a fan of the game “pull my finger”. Why now? And as if her life depended on it too! But why was she breaking wind so much in the first place? And so…loud too. So…messy and…and…

Penelope calmed herself down before becoming aroused again. She brushed her hair aside and made sure she did noy look flustered. She sighed and drank her tea in silence until it was time to go back to work.

Upon leaving the kitchen, she saw a cloaked figure in riding boots rush down the stairs to the main entrance. Penelope squinted and realized it was Agnes.

“Milady?” she whispered. “Where are you going? It is past midnight!”

Agnes swerved and looked haggard and disheveled. She huffed as she tied the cloak around her neck. “I must see to important matters in the city. Tell me, Penelope, the morning before my birthday party, did you remember seeing an old woman loitering with the vendors?”

It had already been nearly two weeks since the party. Even if Penelope met anyone new, she would have forgotten by then. Why was Agnes asking about it? “I do not know. I was inside the castle helping to prepare the decorations.”

Agnes huffed again. She seemed very distraught, to which Penelope asked what the matter was. Agnes looked as though she had much to say, but instead held it back. She stammered incoherently at first, but then finally said, “I believe she stole something important of mine on that day.”

Penelope gave a little gasp. “Dear me! Does the king know about this?”

Agnes eyed the halls. “No. I wish to leave him out of this. He only thinks I am going out for a ride. Tell me. Er. Penelope. Where do---I do not—I have not the faintest idea where curs and fiends loiter.”

Penelope, having grown up being familiar with the city, knew exactly the sort of seedy places scattered among town where one could find a thief. She grew excited. She could be alone with Agnes and go on an adventure! They had not spent time together like this since they were little. Plus…there could be another chance for her to pull the princess’s finger!

So, Penelope offered her services and fetched her cloak and riding boots straightaway.

She knew of a way past the guards so as to not alert anyone to Agnes’s disappearance. The decorate hedge at the edge of the castle grounds had an opening that the gardener overlooked. The branches were thin and able to be pushed aside easily with minor disturbance.

Agnes needed some coaxing in order to go through the bush. She really did not want her cloak to tear.

“Did you always know about this?” Agnes hissed, trying to brush off leaves once they were across.

Penelope giggled. “Yes, milady. I must confess that I have used it to get away from work sometimes.” She was not afraid of Agnes knowing that she shirked her duties sometimes. Agnes only hummed and nodded.

On the way to the stables by the servant’s quarters, Agnes yelped in pain and gripped her belly. She nearly fell over but caught herself on the stable wall before falling.

“Milady! Are you alright?”

Agnes gritted through her teeth, “I am quite fine. We must make haste!”

“Did you have breakfast? Did something not agree with you? Do you maybe need some of that tea again? Milady?”

“No, no, no, no!” Agnes cried, stamping her foot. “I said I am fine. Let us get a move on.” She mounted a horse and was already out of the stables before she had to stop and led Penelope guide her.

Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes, and led the way down the main road into the city.

#

Agnes would find a way to undo this spell if it were the last thing she did. She was determined to find that old witch and face her once and for all. Already by that night, Agnes became bloated and swollen with windy bowels. She could not keep coming to Penelope all the time to pull her finger. And she was going to get married soon! She had to resolve the issue before then.

She was so focused on the mission at hand that she did not realize that she took the furthest step she had taken outside the castle grounds. It was Penelope who brought it up.

Riding ahead of her, Penelope smiled and looked back to face her. “Milady, this is the furthest you have been, is it not?”

“Why, indeed it has.”

“How does it feel?”

Agnes was not sure. She grimaced as they approached the main city, because already she could catch a whiff of many unpleasant smells. Raw sewage, wild poultry, piss, and possibly vomit. The streets were busy with hundreds of pedestrians, both on foot and on carriage. The further they went in, the more polluted the air became, both thick with chimney smoke and tobacco smoke.

Agnes regretted her decision, but the pang in her bowels reminded her what was at stake. Her reputation. Her life!

“Do you know where we are going?” Agnes asked.

“Of course, milady!”

Agnes did not wish anyone out there to realize who she was. She rode closer to Penelope’s side and hissed, “Penelope, it may be better to address me by another term of endearment. I do not wish for anyone to suspect my identity.”

Penelope nodded. “Sure thing mi—er…mum.”

Agnes bent her head low and tugged her hood to cover her face entirely.

Penelope stopped in front of a miserable looking old building. It was worn and the sign at the front dangled precariously on one chain. Agnes raised a brow as she read it. The sign depicted a disheveled rooster with the words “THE WET COCK” written above it.

“What is this place?” she asked, grimacing.

“A tavern and brothel, mum.”

“Oh dear,” Agnes muttered.

Penelope grinned. “Best watch your step, mum. This place can be a bit rough, but here we could get some information if we cannot find your thief. What was it that she stole from you, by the way?”

Agnes shrugged off the question with a mutter, and then settled with, “It is a personal matter, Penelope. Now come. Let us go in.” She still held back from telling Penelope the truth. She still desperately clung to a sense of privacy.

The Wet Cock was appropriately named. The floor of the tavern had not been cleaned of water and whatever murky liquid was there in the corner of the room, and the walls had not been scrubbed of gunk in possibly a decade. Hundreds of grown men, all unshaven, unclean, and unbecoming were either passed out on the benches or drinking to themselves.

Agnes walked through the aisles uneasily, putting a handkerchief to her mouth and being careful not to step on anything or anyone. Meanwhile, Penelope strode to the bar as if this were her home and plopped down on a seat. Agnes stared at her, aghast. Penelope gave her a look, prompting her to come and sit next to her.

“What do we do now?” Agnes hissed upon sitting on the rickety stool.

“We drink. And we talk. Talking always leads to questions.”

The bartender was a ginger, heavyset, bearded man. He said little other than nods and grunts when Penelope asked for two ales. Agnes stared down at her mug of ale. The brew smelled awful. She made a face and groaned in disgust. After a while, the bartender looked at them and said, “Bit queer for a couple of pretty lassies like yerselves to be hanging around here.”

“Oh, we are here on business,” Penelope said cheerfully.

“And what business have ye here?”

“We are looking for…” Penelope looked to Agnes for help. Agnes said, “We have business with an old woman. She may be a witch, you see. Old, withered, a bit smelly. White hairs. We figured we would look in the more…unruly parts of town such as this to try and find her.”

The bartender sniffed. He seemed to take offense. “Unruly, eh?”

Penelope gulped and gave Agnes a side-eye.

The bartender wiped down the counter and scrubbed a couple mugs. He cleared his throat loudly and said, “Yea, I know who yer talking about.”

Agnes lit up. “You do?”

“Yea. She sits at the corner every so often. She does a lot of queer things that old bird. Tells fortunes. Scares people out of their wits. Never says her name.”

“Is she here? Right now?”

“Nope. Ye jus missed her. But she is known to live out in the woods towards Southwood. Leave the city by the southwestern entrance. Follow the old dirt path off the main road. It might be difficult to find since hardly anyone goes there. But you’ll find her.”

Agnes immediately stood up, nearly toppling the stool.

“Wonderful! Come, Penelope!”

The bartender then protested. “Hey, hey, now. I don’t just give these drinks all willy-nilly. Ye hardly drank anything. Ye just gonna buy two ales and not finish ‘em? They can’t go to waste.”

Agnes grimaced. She stared down at the murky ale, held her breath, and drank. The frothy liquid filled her up by the ounce. She wasn’t halfway finished, and she felt bloated beyond belief. She moaned aloud and slammed the mug on the counter. She heaved and unexpectedly belched aloud.

BRAAAAUUUURRRRP!

She clasped her mouth and shouted, “Pardon me!”

The bartender laughed. “I’ve heard worse.”

Agnes turned to Penelope. She noticed the maid was flushed in the cheeks and looked away, down at her drink. “Something the matter?”

Penelope stirred, as if waking from a dream. “Oh. What? Um. No. Well.” Penelope drove a finger in the counter, scratching it. “Ummmm.”

Agnes leaned forward. “I know it is not an ale fit for a king but just drink it and let us make haste once more.”

“No, it is not that. I do not really…drink, mum.”

Agnes frowned. “Oh.”

She found it a strange excuse. She could have sworn she had seen Penelope drink before, but it could have been her imagination. Then again, Penelope was one of the more reserved maids in the entire castle. It was entirely possible that Agnes mixed her up with someone else.

Agnes’s stomach churned, making a loud gurgle. She gripped her belly, but then found the strength to brave through it. She was close to confronting the witch who put this spell on her. It was only a matter of time before this suffering would end. So, she mustered herself and finished her ale, and then took Penelope’s mug to chug.

Halfway through, she stopped to take a breath. The ale was overwhelming. Penelope noticed her discomfort and bit her lip. She said, “Mum, you don’t have to drink the whole thing so quickly if you don’t want to.”

“Penelope, I wish to get out of here as quickly as possibBBBBBRRRAAaAaaaAAaAAAUuUUUUuuuUUrrrrp!”

Agnes clasped her hand again after the sharp, rowdy belch. It reeked of alcohol and almost made her want to puke. As a princess of great royalty, she had only really ever drunk wine. Ale and beer were considered much more…uncouth drinks, drinks meant for men. She was in no way able to hold back the intense carbonation of this particular ale. A great weight was lifted off her chest, and she was immediately thankful for still being able to eructate if not break wind. But she kept that wish to herself.

“My goodness!” she said. “Excuse me!”

She had caught the attention of a bald, burly man with scars near them. One of his eyes was missing, adding to his charming character. But he beamed and said, “Whadda we have here? A pretty lady drinking and belching? That’s a first!” He then signaled the bartender. “Oy, another one for the lady here! On me!”

Agnes waved her hands in protest. “N-no, no, no. I apologize, good sir, but I must protest.”

But the bartender filled up another mug and slid it down to her. Agnes protested but the burly man looked offended.

“Wot? It’s free ale! What have ye against free ale?”

Agnes moaned, trying to explain. Penelope then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Milady, it be best to do as he wishes. Just one more drink and we are out of here. It be best not to offend their ways.”

Agnes scowled. She snatched the mug and started drinking, slower this time, and also holding back the rumbling eructation by putting a fist to her mouth.

“Ugh. What do they make this out of?” she hissed.

When she slammed the empty mug back on the counter, the one-eyed burly man cheered and whooped. His friend did, as did his friend, and his friend’s friend, and so on…until the entire tavern had shifted their attention to the ale-drinking woman.

“Penelope,” Agnes hissed, hiding her face, “this place was a bad idea.”

Everyone had drawn interest in a woman drinking at the bar, so before Agnes and Penelope could leave, another mug was handed to them by someone in the crowd.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

Hands began clapping to the chant, and soon everyone at the tavern joined in and cheered her on.

Agnes was overwhelmed. They were completely blocked off from the exit, and half a dozen hands had shot out holding mugs overflowing with bubbling, frothy ale. She looked to Penelope for help, but the poor waif was almost drowning in the crowd and tried to reach out for her.

“Mum!”

Agnes did what she had to do, she picked the nearest mug and started chugging. The crowd went wild, cheering so loud that her ears hurt. She wanted to quit halfway through, but the crowd of smelly ugly men egged her on.

“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!”

She really wanted to quit but someone in the crowd tipped the mug up to her face and she was forced to down the rest in one go.

When Agnes finished, she raised the mug in the air for all to see, and then turned it upside down as proof of having finished.

“HOOORRRAAAAAYYYY!!!”

Agnes blushed with excitement. She had never seen so many people excited about her. Her opinion of the men around her changed suddenly. What she imagined was a hellhole of murderers and thieves was really just a hole-in-the-wall of friendly, harmless drunkards.

Someone then started to lift her. She panicked and screamed and cried out for Penelope. But then she unexpectedly laughed aloud as the crowd carried her across. She had never felt this much excitement in her entire life…and she was starting to feel giddy.