Eroma

by Piers Anthony

  “Back to the pier for another load.”

  “Why expend the time? It’s bound to be a dangerous hassle there, because of the duffers. We’ll take the next island. When we’re done, we can exchange women with you for another round in a fraction of the time a full return trip would take.”

  She was right. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Agreed.”

  “Until then,” she said. The boat moved on to the adjacent island.

  The second couple emerged, and the third entered. “We made a deal with the next island,” Ailene informed the second. “Wife swapping.”

  “What?” the woman demanded.

  “Joke. We three women will join their men for more rapid exchanges.”

  “Oh. Yes. Good,” the woman agreed, disgruntled.

  Pedro realized that he had been wrong to be annoyed. Ailene did make sly jokes, but seemed to be sensible.

  Meanwhile, his exchange with Ailene was taking hold. He felt renewed vigor, and realized it was the enhancement of health. Good enough.

  Then his foot burned. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, jumping. He looked. There was nothing on his foot.

  Ailene laughed. “Magic hotfoot,” she said. “Just testing.”

  Pedro controlled his renewed annoyance. It did make sense for her to test her dawning magic ability. Minor pyrokinesis. Throwing a hotspot.

  The third couple emerged. Pedro glanced at the second woman, an Elf named Fanny, COURAGE/strength.

  “In a few minutes,” she said. “You may have had fifteen, but I've had only ten. I can’t do it yet.”

  She was right. “Say when,” he agreed.

  “I do appreciate the way you organized this,” Fanny said. “It helps us all.”

  “Yes,” the third woman said. She was a yellow-skinned Mongol, Zora, EMPATHY/magic. “We were hung up, unable to organize for privacy, until you stepped in. You have helped us all.”

  “I was helping myself,” Pedro said. Her traits were a problem for him, duplicating two he already had. What he needed was Appearance, Intelligence, and Strength, to fill out the halves he already had. There was no reason for him to exchange with her. But he didn’t want to tell her that. For one thing, she might need the traits he offered.

  “I’m just about ready,” Fanny said.

  They entered the pavilion. “Let’s not be entirely mechanical,” Fanny said, kissing him.

  “Ailene rebuked me when I patted her butt.”

  “I’m not Ailene.” She patted his butt.

  “Okay.” He realized that she might merely be playing for more time, to fully recharge for the exchange. Regardless, he preferred to make it more like a tryst than a business trade.

  They got on the bed. She took his head and brought his face to her breasts. They were fine big ones. In fact her whole form was extraordinarily feminine.

  “I exchanged for an Appearance,” she explained before he asked. “It is manifesting.”

  “That’s why you delayed!”

  “In part,” she agreed. “But I do like a little emotion with my sex. I feel if we are to do a thing, we might as well do it right.”

  “I agree,” he said, kissing her evocative breasts while she fondled his rising penis.

  They couldn’t delay long, lest it spoil the rapid schedule. Soon he entered her, and made the connection, and they were in the throes of the orgasm.

  There was a clamor outside. They hurried out.

  A third boat was coming. This one consisted of six men. That was mischief. They surely intended to drive away the men and take the women. Pedro hadn’t thought of that ploy. If the women didn’t like it, would rape follow? Would rape work for the exchange?

  “Need help here,” Pedro called across to the other island.

  The others quickly responded. They crossed, arriving just before the male boat did. They took up paddles as weapons.

  The male boat considered the array of a dozen armed defenders and reconsidered. It sheered off, looking for easier prey.

  Then they organized for the exchange of women. “But we haven’t finished!” Zora protested.

  “Another time,” Pedro said. “We need to facilitate the greater good.”

  She looked doubtful, but went along with it. Soon the original three women were rowing across to the other island with its three men, and the other three were remaining. Pedro saw with satisfaction that these ones had the recessive traits he needed. He had lucked out.

  • • •

  Fotina was in the crowd of players, but she felt lonely. She really did like Pedro. She had liked his look the moment she spied him coming down the path, maybe because he shared her Moorish game type. She knew it was just coincidence, but had acted on her inclination and arranged to collide with him. Their association had proved to be well worthwhile, for he turned out to be an experienced, or at least knowledgeable player, and had filled her in on most of what she lacked.

  He was also, she thought fondly, a nice lover. It was her first sex, in any venue, and he had been gentle and accommodating. What more could she have asked for? She had not been fooling when she said she loved him. Yes it was foolish, because there was no real basis; she had no idea of his nature in real life. But what she had learned of him, she liked.

  She had entered the Eroma game halfway by chance. Her father had facetiously suggested it, because he liked to watch the sex it featured. It seemed that every avatar was tracked, and every sex sequence pictured for the large TV audience. Men loved it, for the pornographic detail. So did a number of women, apparently, maybe for the underlying romantic theme. Fotina had never been interested in that sort of thing; the thought of public sex appalled her. She wanted to learn what she needed to obtain good employment and develop a nice career. She was intelligent, and could ace almost any academic course, though many of them bored her because they lacked imagination. Why should she waste her time on erotic TV games? She preferred to orient on the challenge of college. Then, degree and job in hand, she might consider romance. She liked men well enough, but this was not the time for them.

  But things changed. The economy had crashed. Her father lost his job. His unemployment benefits were running out, they were in default on the mortgage, and foreclosure threatened. Her mother, ill with a chronic condition, could keep house, but was unemployable. Her sisters were too young. Suddenly college was out of the question. Fotina had to go to work wherever she could, to pay for food. She had gotten a job at the local grocery store, as a stock clerk. She was good at it, because she could rapidly catalog the myriad of products together with their assigned shelving, but there was no future. Pay was minimal, but guaranteed, and it helped for the food and utilities. It wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage payments, however.

  Her father’s joke took root in her imagination. She knew nothing about the Eroma game, but she applied at the last minute. She filled in the routine form, which concluded with a request for a statement on why she wanted to play, and asked her to state a number. She paused at that point. Why did they want either, if selection was purely by chance? There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of applicants for every avatar role; they had to winnow them down ruthlessly.

  Meanwhile the clock was ticking. A corner of her application screen listed the number of roles available, evenly divided between male and female, restricted to ages 18-29 to preserve the suggestion of potential young romance. The 32 female positions were being filled rapidly. Most of the applicants had filed ahead of time, but she had come late and was in the two-hour qualification window. As she paused, it was down to 5, then 4. When it got down to 0, there would be no point in completing the application. Yet she hesitated. Why even show the progress of placements, if it was simply a matter of randomly taking 32 of thousands? That suggested that there was something else.

  Her father had mentioned before, he’d noticed patterns in the selection of players for each game. He had said there were probably odd formulas mixed in with the randomness, that a smart applicant might figure it out some day. But it
was different for each game, and there never was much time, because all the positions were filled within two hours of the game’s opening.

  Fotina touched the STATEMENTS section of the screen. There were all the statements of the qualifiers so far, and the numbers. The key must be here, because it was the only non-random thing listed. What was it?

  The roles remaining dropped to 3.

  What was the hint here? The statements were generally about the Eroma game, how much the applicants liked it, how they loved fantasy role playing, sex, and money, and would make great players. The numbers were generally small, no ten billion and one, or square roots of infinity.

  The spots dropped to 2.

  Then she saw it. The numbers matched the number of words in the statements. That had to be at least part of the key!

  But, maybe not all of it. The qualifiers were anonymous, but listed by gender and age. Did that relate? Why bother with such incidental information?

  Now only one spot remained.

  Age! The number had to match the applicant’s age!

  She wrote her statement. “I am young, innocent, smart, pretty, and desperate to help my family. All I want is a chance.” Eighteen words, maybe not the most persuasive or sophisticated, but that wasn’t the point. Followed by her age: 18. She had had her birthday earlier in the month. She clicked the Enter button.

  CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE QUALIFIED. THE ROSTER IS NOW COMPLETE.

  She had made it, barely. The very last female entrant. She felt light-headed.

  YOU ARE PLAYER #32 FEMALE. SELECT AN AVATAR NAME FROM F.

  Because they had run through the alphabet and gone six letters into the second cycle. She typed FLORA.

  THAT NAME IS TAKEN. SELECT ANOTHER.

  Just her luck. Who had gotten her name? But what did it matter? She was in the game! She reviewed the offerings, and selected an odd one: FOTINA.

  WELCOME FOTINA. SELECT AN AVATAR RACE.

  She chose Moor, because it was closest to her Latina background. She went on to choose hair color—dark –and height—average—eye color—brown—and features, from a group of template pictures. It was foolish, but she was trying to match her avatar to her real appearance as closely as possible. Soon her avatar was complete.

  Her father was amazed. “I didn’t mean it literally,” he said. “The game is fun, but the thought of my sweet daughter in with all those sex perverts—”

  “We need the money,” she said. “It’s not real, only avatars.” That ended the discussion because he could not deny any of it. All he could do was shut up and let her try.

  She had entered the game, and was learning how to play it on the job, as it were. She was a quick study, but she had never studied sex, so it was a challenge. Pedro had been an enormous help, which she really appreciated.

  Now she had to find other men to mate with, soon and often. But here too, Pedro had helped prepare her. She assessed the situation, saw that privacy was going to be the big hurdle, and probably safety too. There was a lake with islands that looked private, but there were monsters in the water that interfered with crossing. She saw Pedro organize a boat, but she was no good at that sort of thing.

  She spied a man with a trait she very much wanted: Intelligence, and a recessive of empathy, which was fine too. But she wasn’t sure she could just go up to him and ask him. She was a bit shy, and he was an imposing Nordic.

  Unless she could draw on the traits she had acquired from Pedro. Magic and Arts.

  She quickly drew on the magic of illusion, because that was what she had practiced. She used it to enhance her form, so that she looked twice as shapely and sexy as she had any right to be. Then she tried to use the Art of Dance. She bounced her hips. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

  She approached the man, who stood slightly apart gazing at the throng around the boats. “Excuse me, sir,” she said.

  He turned, and she saw that his name was Norris. “Yes?”

  “Have you—do you want to—exchange?”

  “There’s no privacy,” he said shortly.

  “There’s a pavilion up the hill.”

  “I saw it. It would take too much time to get there.”

  “Maybe we could use a shortcut?”

  “Too dangerous. There are monsters in these woods.”

  This wasn’t going well. She applied her illusion, making herself look sexy, and did her little dance. Pedro had said this would help. “Maybe there’s a way.”

  His pupils expanded as he looked at her. He licked his lips. It was working! Men really could be corralled by their inordinate interest in sex. “What way?”

  She thought rapidly. “I—I can do a little magic. Maybe enough to fool a monster.”

  “Can you do pyro?”

  Pedro had mentioned that. Pyrokinesis. Fire magic. “I can try.” She made another flirt of her hips.

  Norris decided. “We’ll try it.”

  They went to the edge of the glade. Signs said: BEWARE MONSTERS. That meant there was no protection beyond this point.

  “This way.” She strode ahead, making sure her bottom was fully enhanced. Yet again she appreciated Pedro’s advice; she would not have thought of this device on her own. Would it work?

  He followed. She did not need telepathy to know his eyes were fixed on her flexing buttocks. Oh, Pedro, she thought. You truly advised me wisely!

  It was an open forest, and progress was rapid. There was a roar.

  Both of them paused. “What was that?” Fotina asked nervously.

  “A dragon,” Norris replied. “Fire should stop it. Get your pyro magic ready.”

  Fotina focused on pyro. The dragon appeared. It was a huge winged serpent with legs. It spied them and roared again, clashing its teeth so hard sparks flew.

  Sparks? Why should this creature fear fire? Even if it wasn’t a fire-breather, it should not be superstitious about flames.

  Norris was getting a similar reservation. “I fear we miscalculated,” he said nervously.

  Had she come this far, only to wash out by being eaten by a dragon? Fotina hated the thought, but could not realistically banish it. “We had better retreat,” she said, with about ten times the confidence she felt.

  “Or hope we can outrun it,” he agreed.

  They turned and started back toward the central glade. And stopped.

  Another dragon was barring their escape. It was just as big and scary as the first.

  “Magic,” Norris said tersely. “Make fire.”

  She decided not to argue. There really wasn’t time. She focused on a clump of dry grass before the second dragon, willing it into flame.

  Nothing happened.

  “Hurry,” Norris said.

  She tried again, with all her force. A tiny wisp of vapor rose from the clump, but no flame. “I don’t have enough heat,” she said. “I guess I haven’t had enough time to practice.”

  “Now she tells me,” Norris said, disgusted.

  Fotina thought desperately. “Maybe we can climb a tree or something.”

  He looked as though he thought that suggestion was too idiotic for words. But then each dragon took a step forward, closing in. She noticed with a background portion of her mind that they were taking measured paces, as if giving the players time to think of something, if they were going to.

  They ran to the side, toward the biggest tree nearby. It looked like a huge gnarly oak, with large limbs radiating out in all directions. As they reached it, Fotina saw the lowest limb was out of her reach. She couldn’t climb.

  The two dragons converged, then turned almost as one and stalked after the two morsels of prey.

  “Get up there!” Norris said. He put his hands on her hips and heaved her up.

  Fotina grabbed the branch. For a moment she hung from it. Then she swung her legs up, got one over, and scrambled to the top of the branch.

  She looked down just in time to see Norris leap and catch the branch himself. In moments he was on it with her.


  The dragons were closing on them, evidently not concerned. “Can dragons climb?” Fotina asked.

  “I don’t think so. But their heads can reach this high.” Indeed, the dragons were already lifting their heads, and they were high enough to snatch a morsel or two from the branch.

  Fotina noticed other branches twisting out and up, not far above the first. She scrambled along to get within range, then leapt to the next. Norris followed. They were another level up. This branch was smaller, but they were able to wrap their arms and legs about it and hold on securely.

  The two dragons' heads could not quite reach this far. They were safe. The dragons did not seem annoyed. What did they know?

  There was a squawk from above. “Oh, shit!” Norris said.

  “What is it?”

  “Raptors.”

  “What?”

  “Birds of prey. Hawks, probably.”

  “Well, this is a tree. They probably live here.”

  “We’re the prey.”

  Uh-oh. How would they defend themselves, with their arms and legs occupied with holding on to the branch?

  The birds appeared, flying down from above. They eyed the people. One dived right at them, screaming, beak open for a bite.

  Fotina did something, and the bird sheared off. Surprised, it flew up, circled, and dived again.

  And sheered off again.

  “What’s going on?” Norris asked.

  “Tele—telekinesis,” Fotina said. “More magic. I’m pushing it to the side, just enough.”

  “Good show,” Norris said. “But we still have a problem.”

  “I’m getting better at it. I think I can hold them off even if more than one dives.”

  “That’s excellent. But we can’t go anywhere.”

  “Not with the dragons below,” she agreed. “But at least we’re safe.”

  “Here is the problem: if we stay here too long, we’ll both wash out of the game, because we won’t get to exchange for traits.”

  He was right. They couldn’t win this way.

  Fotina scratched her brain again. She got a notion. “I can do only one kind of magic at a time. You watch for the hawks and glare them off. I’ll try to handle the dragons.”