Fruit of the Evil Loom Ch. 01


Myrna stood before the town council, hands tied behind her back. A throng had gathered in the market square to watch the trial.

“Myrna Skitts,” said Mayor Brundle, “you stand accused of panty theft.” His mouth twisted in disgust. Murmurs of disapproval rippled through the crowd. “Do you deny the charge?”

Myrna shrugged. “I guess not.” She wore a blouse that had once been white but now was beige, and a patched brown skirt with a frayed hem.

Mayor Brundle turned to his fellow councillors, seated either side of him at the long wooden table. They seemed contemptuous of this barefoot, dirty-faced woman with long, unkempt hair. Some gave him a doubtful look.

“Miss Skitts, this is not the first time you’ve appeared before us. In the past we have dealt leniently with you. Not so today.” He rose and addressed the crowd. “What would you have me do with this… this lesbian panty thief?”

“Burn her at the stake!” shouted one man, and the crowd took up the chant: “Burn her! Burn her!”

The mayor raised his hands, hushing the crowd. “Well, Miss Skitts, you hear what the masses want. Ordinarily I would be inclined to indulge them. But we live in dark times.” He resumed his seat. “Hiphthasa the Enchantress grows in power, oppressing every kingdom west of the Gorlush Desert. Just last month we received word that our own Queen has relinquished her throne to the witch. Have you heard of the Panties of Dominion?”

She shook her head.

“The Panties were woven on Hiphthasa’s magic loom. Whenever she wears them, she has power over the bodily functions of every woman in sight, to contain their urine or faeces or to expel it against their will. She uses the Panties to threaten and humiliate and manipulate the rulers of the world. Many a queen has brought low by public loss of continence. And they have a strange power over men too. For all she has to do is flash her Panties at a man and in his arousal his penis will become so engorged with blood that it will burst open and he will bleed to death.

“Clearly the Panties must be taken from Hiphthasa. And so we come to your plight, Miss Skitts. We would like to offer you an alternative. You are a panty thief. We want you to steal the Panties from Hiphthasa—and destroy them; don’t keep them for yourself, you pervert. Do this and you will keep your life.” He paused. “Will you accept this mission?”

“Well, I guess so. What choice do I have?” Pausing, she asked, “But where will I find her?”

“Word is that she lives far to the south, but she travels a lot, for she must be within sight of her intended victim for the Panties to work. That is all I can tell you. You will have to find her yourself.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

The mayor’s face became grave. “Myrna Skitts, I hereby banish you from Holston until such time as you have completed your mission to steal the Panties of Dominion from Hiphthasa the Enchantress. Iggart! Brolst!” Two toughs came forward from the crowd. “Set this woman outside the South Gate and send her on her way.”

Grabbing an arm each, they dragged Myrna through town. When they reached the South Gate, Iggart cut her bonds and gave her a shove. “Go on! Off you go!”

And so Myrna began her journey, taking to the dirt road before her. Iggart and Bolst watched until she had disappeared beyond the horizon. The sky was clear on this midwinter morning. The cold ground numbed Myrna’s bare feet. She had the road to herself. Holston was behind her, and to her left and to her right and ahead was nothing but farmland.

Naturally Myrna was worried about how she would survive. She had no food, no money, no idea where she was going. Her feet were already beginning to bleed. But she could only go on. Going back meant death.

The sun continued its ascent. The ground warmed and sensation returned to her feet, bringing pain, slowing her down. Myrna was hungry and thirsty and the tiredest she had ever been in her life.

Suddenly she heard someone calling. She turned round and saw a figure running up the road towards her. As the figure drew nearer, she could see that it was a woman, holding her skirt up so that she wouldn’t trip.

“Wait!” the woman cried. “Wait up!”

Myrna took a seat on a boulder by the roadside so that the stranger could catch up. She was glad of the rest.

When the stranger reached her, she stopped abruptly and doubled over, hands on her knees. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, she asked, “Are Myrna? Myrna Skitts?”

“Yes, I’m Myrna.”

“You don’t know me,” she said, forcing herself to stand upright. “But I stood trial before the Holston Council this morning just after you.” She gasped for air. “I had to answer for peeping. The mayor wanted to put out my eyes, but one of the councillors persuaded him that I should join you, be your eyes, kızılay escort since I was so good at spying. Will you have me?”

“What’s your name?”


“Elsteen. What a pretty name. I would be glad to have your company.”

Elsteen smiled. She was about the same age as as Myrna, with bright blue eyes, milky white skin and raven hair.

“Your poor feet!” said Elsteen. “Here. Wear my shoes for a while. We can take turns wearing them.”

Myrna tried them on. They fit perfectly. “Thanks.”

“The first thing we must do,” said Elsteen, “is find water. We won’t last long without it.”

“Where will we find water?”

“There are cattle grazing in the field behind you.” Myrna turned round. “Livestock must drink. There must be a water source somewhere in that field.”

That sounded logical to Myrna. The two young women climbed over the low wooden fence and took to the field. The grass was soft beneath their feet. The only challenge they faced was avoiding stepping in cow dung.

“So,” said Myrna, “you were charged with peeping?

“I was caught spying on my neighbour while she was taking a piss in her chamber pot.”

“Oh.” Myrna cast a sideways glance at her companion. She did have a nice plump rump and perky bosom. Myrna tried to imagine what kind of panties she might be wearing. Perhaps high-cut cotton briefs with floral print on a white background.

“Are you all right?” Elsteen asked.

Blushing, Myrna looked away. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I was staring.”

They soon crested a rise. On the other side was a dam ringed by drinking cattle.

“Well, that was easy,” said Elsteen.

The cattle ran away as the women approached. Getting on their knees in the mud, they drank their fill of the murky water.

They returned to the road and set out again refreshed.

“So,” said Elsteen, “what’s your plan?”

“I don’t really have one. I was told Hiphthasa lives to the south, and this road seems to be taking us in that direction. But apparently she travels around a lot, so she could be anywhere. But I guess if we keep following this road, we’ll eventually come to a town where we can ask for directions.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you married?”

“No. Still a maiden.”

“And how old are you?”


“Why have you never married?”

“I just never found the right… person.”

“I’m not married either. I don’t like men.”

The sun continued its ascent. The women felt its bite as their skin burnt.

“We’re going to have to find water again soon,” said Myrna.

“What we really need is something to carry it in, a skin or something.”

“Hey! What’s that over there?” She pointed to a low hill some distance ahead on the left. “The trees all seem to be growing in straight lines. I think it’s an orchard. Maybe we can find some fruit.”

“We can have a look, but it’s winter, remember. There’s not much in season.”

They took the shortest route, leaving the road and cutting across a fallow field. They followed a windbreak to shield them from view of a nearby farmhouse. At last they came to the foot of the hill.

“We’re in luck,” said Myrna. “Oranges.”

They made sure they were well concealed among the trees before they began eating. The oranges not only assuaged their hunger but also temporarily quenched their thirst.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Elsteen, throwing away some orange peel and wiping juice from her chin. If we climb to the top of this hill, we should have a good view of our surroundings. Maybe we will see a village or something.”

Elsteen was wrong. When they got to the top, the trees blocked their view. So Myrna climbed one, getting scratched by the thorns of a sucker as she went. From the top of the tree, she did have a good view of the surrounding countryside.

“There’s nothing much too see,” she called down. “There are no nearby villages. Just more farms. Although it looks like a nearby farmhouse does have a well. Maybe we can ask them for water.” She climbed back down. “Shall we head that way, then?”


They took as many oranges as they could carry and made their way downhill. When they reached the edge of the orchard, Elsteen grabbed Myrna’s arm. “Wait! I’ve just had an idea. That farm had a well, presumably with a bucket to draw water, right?”

“Well, I couldn’t see a bucket; it was too far away. But I suppose so.”

“And we need something for carrying water.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“We get as near the farm as possible without being seen and check it out. If it has a bucket or anything else worth stealing, we come back here to the orchard to hide till nightfall and then take what we need.”

“That actually seems like a kolej escort good idea.”

They crossed another grassy field then ducked behind a low stone wall. Elsteen raised her head just enough to see over the top. There was indeed a bucket beside the stone rim of the well, attached to a length of rope.

“There are also clothes hanging out to dry. Maybe we can make something useful from them. Wrappings for your feet, or headscarves to stop us getting sunburnt. Or maybe a pouch for carrying oranges. And there’s a toolshed as well on the other side of the yard. Maybe we can find a knife or something.”

They returned to the cover of the orchard. Myrna pulled down her panties and squatted, releasing an audible torrent of urine. “I probably should have asked you earlier, Elsteen, but how much did the council tell you about my mission?”

“Just that you had to steal the Panties of Dominion from Hiphthasa the Enchantress.”

“Had you ever heard of them before?”

“The Panties? No. But they sound like an instrument of worst kind of evil.”

Queen Tentril of Gisturia lay quivering before a tall figure in a black robe whose face was hidden under the cowl of a hood. The stone floor of the dungeon was cold beneath her. She had been held here for three days, since her abduction from the palace, and in all that time she had not urinated. The figure towering over her wouldn’t let her.

“Please,” said the Queen, sobbing. “Why are you doing this?” “You know why. All you have to do is swear fealty to me and then you can return to your kingdom as my vassal.”

“No. I will never do that. I can’t.”

“I think it’s time for another drink.”

“No! Please!”


Keys rattled. The lock clicked. The door opened. In came a large man carrying a water skin.


The guard pinched her nose and made her drink. When he took the skin away, the Queen coughed, gasping for air, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her now-dirty silk dress.

Minutes passed in silence. The Queen could feel her captor’s eyes on her even though she couldn’t see them. She felt another pang from her bladder. She grabbed her crotch.

“Please! Let me go! You could make me piss myself right now if you wanted.”

“You know what you have to do.”

She pushed herself up into a squatting position and strained. Nothing came out. “Please! I have to go right now. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

No response.

The Queen screamed, grabbing her abdomen, curling up on the floor. She gave her captor one last pleading look before her eyes glazed over.

Her bladder had burst.

The sun had set and a full moon had risen. It was getting cold. Myrna rubbed her arms to keep warm.

“The lights have gone out,” said Elsteen from the top of the orange tree. “Let’s go.” She climbed down.

They descended the hill and crossed the field, dewy grass soaking the hems of their skirts. Scaling the low stone wall, they tiptoed across the farmyard. Elsteen drew water from the well and set the bucket on the ground. She tried to untie the knot on the handle.

“See if you can find something in the toolshed,” she whispered to Myrna.

Elsteen watched the farmhouse. Myrna retuned with a pair of shears.

“Was that all you could find?”

“It was the best I could do. It’s dark in there.”

Taking the shears, Elsteen cut the rope. “They’ve taken the clothes inside. I don’t think there’s anything else worth stealing.”

“On my way to the shed, I saw a pair of boots sitting outside the front door.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Myrna tiptoed over to the farmhouse, up the wooden steps and across the verandah, floorboards creaking beneath her weight. She picked up the boots.

Someone inside the house coughed.

Myrna sprinted down the steps and across the yard. Elsteen reached the wall before her, sloshing water as she climbed over. The farmhouse door opened. Without looking back, the young women raced across the field back to the orchard, where they flopped on the ground laughing.

There was hardly any water left in the bucket, but they shared what was left. Myrna tried on the boots. They were oversized and uncomfortable without stockings yet serviceable. In her haste Elsteen had left the shears behind.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Myrna said, lying down on the dew-sodden grass. Elsteen settled herself down a few feet away.

The clear night grew colder. Frost set in. The women got no sleep. Myrna crawled over to Elsteen and put her arms round her.

“We need to keep warm.”

Elsteen rolled over and snuggled up to Myrna. Their legs interlocked. They lay like that, sleepless, shivering, till the eastern sky grew grey.

“Time maltepe escort to get up,” Myrna announced. “I guess it’s oranges for breakfast.”

While Myrna picked fruit, Elsteen squatted for a pee, panties round her ankles. Myrna smiled. White cotton, high-cut, with rose prints.

They returned to the road, carrying the bucket, filled with oranges, between them. Myrna slid her hand along the handle so that it was up against Elsteen’s. She didn’t seem to mind. The sun rose. Their clothes and hair, wet from lying in the dew, began to dry.

About midmorning a horse-drawn hay cart pulled up alongside them. “Would you ladies like a ride?” the driver asked.

“That’d be much appreciated,” said Myrna.

“Where are you ladies going?”

“To the next town.”

“Frieth? I’m not going that far, but I’ll take you a good bit of the way there. Hop on the back.”

The bails of hay were piled so high that they couldn’t see the driver from where they sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the cart, their feet just inches above the dirt road. They ate oranges and giggled whenever Elsteen farted, which she did with increasing frequency as the morning wore on. Elsteen should have taken her excessive wind as a warning, but she didn’t even heed the warning her gut gave her when it started gurgling.

“Ooh!” she said, “I’m hungry for some real food.”

Then the urge hit her and she grabbed Myrna’s arm. “How far do you think we have to go?”

Myrna detected panic in her voice. “I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

“I have to poop.” She let go of her arm. “I think I ate too many oranges. Or maybe it was that dam water we drank yesterday.” She started swinging her legs. “Maybe we should ask the driver to pull over.” She massaged her tummy.

“If we get him to drop us off early, we’ll have further to walk. We don’t know when an opportunity like this may come along again. Try to hold it.”

Grunting, she doubled over. She took a few deep breaths then sat upright again, her eyes watery. Myrna giggled. Sweat beaded on Elsteen’s brow and she clenched her fists, grunting in frustration, sending Myrna into a fit of laughter.

Regaining composure, Myrna blew a raspberry. “Too late!”

“Don’t even joke about it!” She pushed herself up so that she was squatting on the bed of the cart.

“What are you doing? You’ll make it come out.”

“I can’t sit still.” She started bobbing up and down.

Myrna succumbed to a fit of unvocalized laughter. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I just wet myself!” she squealed. She had dribbled in her panties.

Elsteen clamped a hand over her mouth and muttered something Myrna didn’t catch and then, more clearly: “I’m pooping. I’m pooping my pants.”

Falling over on her side, Myrna struggled to breathe. She lost control of her bladder, wetting her skirt.

Elsteen clenched her fists. “I can’t… I can’t stop it!”

Her laughter subsiding, Myrna pushed herself up. Wiping tears from her eyes, she grabbed the hem of Elsteen’s skirt and lifted it up so that she could see her panties. The gusset was stained brown.

“You just shit your pants!”

“It’s not funny! I warned you!”

“You’re so cute!”

A serious expression came over Myrna’s face. She leant forward, putting her head between Elsteen’s legs, and began licking her pussy through the shit-stained gusset of her white cotton, rose-print, high-cut panties. She got shit in her mouth but she didn’t care.

Elsteen pushed her away. “I might poop in your face. I still need to go a bit.”

“I don’t care.” She resumed licking the bean.

Elsteen surrendered, leaning back against the hay, moaning. Another cramp hit and she unashamedly pooped a little more. Myrna didn’t skip a beat. She kept licking, faster and faster. Elsteen grabbed fistfuls of hay, squeezing as she vocalized her climax, oblivious to the driver or any traffic on the road.

Satisfied, she leant back against the hay, eyes closed, biting her lower lip. Myrna raised her head. Shit was smeared round her mouth. Her teeth and even the tip of her nose were brown. She knelt there for several moments looking longingly at Elsteen.

Finally Elsteen opened her eyes. “Right. Your turn.”

“But I’ve peed my pants!”

“I don’t care.” She stuck her head up Myrna’s skirt and licked her silly through through the fabric of her plain white cotton panties. She enjoyed the pee flavour. And Myrna enjoyed the best orgasm of her life.

After the women had had a chance to recover, Elsteen stood up on the bed of the cart and, supporting herself against the hay, pulled down her panties. Stepping out of them, she threw them onto the road. She grabbed a fistful of hay and, while Myrna held up her skirt, wiped herself clean.

“I’ll steal you a new pair of panties when I get the chance,” Myrna promised.

Elsteen grabbed some fresh hay and wiped Myrna’s mouth. They spent the rest of the hayride sitting on the edge of the cart, holding hands, kissing, both immensely grateful that fate had seen fit to unite them on this journey.

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