Chapter 18: Margot, the Reporter

At the Xotaville farm, the midday Sun burned over the corral, and the air was heavy with the smell of hot earth and fresh manure. Pôia and Püia were enjoying their lunch break. Püia sat on a wooden stool, slowly biting into a cheese sandwich, while watching her sister with a resigned sigh.

— Sis, don’t you ever get tired of this? — she asked in a low, irritated voice — Every day the same thing ... your face buried in the cow’s ass.

Pôia lifted her face for a second, her mouth smeared with pasty diarrhea, her eyes shining with innocent pleasure.

— But it’s delicious, Püia ... warm, creamy ... like thick soup. Wanna try a little?

Püia rolled her eyes: — No, thanks. I prefer my dry sandwich.

Pôia giggled softly and went back to burying her face in the cow’s voluminous asshole, exploring deep with her tongue, sucking thick gulps that made her belly swell slightly. She moaned softly, almost humming with satisfaction.

Suddenly, a strange roar came from the sky. Püia looked up: — Here she comes again...

Putty appeared flying low, her naked body gleaming in the Sun, her flaming red hair fluttering wildly, and a powerful jet of pasty diarrhea shooting from her ass like a rocket thruster. In her arms, she carried Margot, who was holding on tight, eyes wide.

— Hold on tight, reporter! We’re here! — Putty shouted, laughing loudly as she adjusted the power of her fecal propulsion to land gently on the corral ground.

The jet of shit dissipated into a stinking brown cloud. Püia didn’t even blink at the insanity she was witnessing, she was already used to the alien’s weirdness.

— Welcome back, Putty — she said calmly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand — Brought company?

Margot jumped out of Putty’s arms as if she had been electrocuted. Her big brown eyes fixed on Pôia, who still had her face covered in pasty shit. Without thinking twice, she ran over, gently pulled her away from the cow’s ass and started bombarding her with questions:

— Oh my God, girl! Why do you have your face buried in that cow’s ass? What does it taste like? Is it warm? Thick? Can I try? Come on, let me taste just a little!

Pôia blinked, stunned, her face red with embarrassment and slime: — It’s ... it’s my lunch... — she stammered — Yes, it’s good ... warm ... creamy ... but ... who are you?

Püia was already on her feet, dropping her sandwich on the ground: — Hey, hey! Who the hell are you, you crazy woman? What’s with putting your hands on my little sister?