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They deepen their exploration.

Had anyone desired to claim the bodies, no one would have been able to recognize them.

It was madness to expect constancy from a fleshcrafter. Dan loved her now, but the Tyrant had also claimed more than once to love some unfortunate girl, only to discard her as the seasons changed. If Dan ever decided he no longer wanted her, there were a thousand ways he could make her vanish--

"Hey, have you heard?" the new hire asked her.

"Heard what?" she tentatively replied.

"The Tyrant's dead! Someone finally managed to kill him! The brutes are trying to take control, but we outnumber them . . ." She shut out his words as she tried to think.

All it would take was a single accusation. "Dan is a fleshcrafter." Tensions would grow high in the coming days--she might not even need to prove it. He might be able to kill her, but he couldn't stop an entire mob. One accusation, and Dan would no longer be a problem.

And yet . . . The desert is harsh, and one cannot survive without companions. Do not betray those who trust in you, lest you find yourself alone. Many generations had passed since the soulcrafters left the desert, but the Word remained true, and she could not forsake it for her doubts and fears. Dan loved her now, and so long as he loved her, she would hide his secret deep in her heart.

For the moment, all she could do was to try and keep him entertained. When that failed, she'd think of another solution. Somehow.

---- ---- ----

When Dan returned that night, she was already bent over the stove. "Good evening," she called over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice calm.

"It's not your turn to cook tonight, is it?" he asked. "And while I'm asking, why are you wearing a dress?"

"I felt like doing this," she told him. "But I'd like to ask you to help me. Cooking takes skill and passion. I'll provide the skill, and . . ." She lifted the back of her dress. She wasn't wearing underwear. "You can provide the passion," she told him, praying to the Water that she sounded seductive rather than ridiculous.

"You're saying you want me to stick it in your ass."

"Don't spoil the mood, Dan." She felt she could risk that much.

"You know, I wasn't sure how you would take things. After last night, I was afraid you'd break up with me. I'm surprised you turned out to be so kinky, but if this is what you want . . ." He grinned evilly. "We'll need to clean it out first. I'll keep an eye on the pot while you deal with that."

"What do you--" A sudden urgency made her very grateful that the kitchen was just a few rooms away from the bathroom.

He was still smirking when she returned. "Now that's over with . . ."

She took her place at the stove, and she began to stir the pot.

Her anus was tight at first, but she felt it loosen around his probing finger. She stirred faster and faster, and grew wetter and wetter, as the hole began to reshape, new folds slowly forming. When he finally entered what should have been an exit, she came immediately and loudly.

He reached his hand around, feeling inside the unoccupied orifice, and she realized that the hole in back was now identical to the one in front. When he took it away, she looked over her shoulder to see him licking his fingers. "Dinner already tastes pretty good," he said, before he moved his hand back downward, stimulating both holes at once.

The second time she came, he came along with her, both barely attentive enough to watch the pot. The pleasure was far too much to hold, so she transferred a bit of it out of her soul, displacing it into the food. When they finally sat down to eat dinner, he remarked that it was the best she'd ever cooked.

"So, uh . . ." he began. "Do you want to do that again sometime?"

"Anytime you want," she told him.

As long as it keeps him happy, she thought. She knew he wouldn't hurt her yet--not while she was still fun to play with. And the way he'd felt in her . . . As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to feel it again.

---- ---- ----

As the end of the week approached, she could tell he was a

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