Font of Fertility

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All Characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

This story is a continuation of the Font of Fertility series. I suggest starting with Chapter 1 if you have not already. This chapter includes Judgements, reference to domestic abuse, MF, and sex with a married woman.

Jeremiah and the crew handle some Judgements, good and bad.

Returning Dramatis Personae

- Jeremiah 'Jerry' Grant - Seat of Fertility, aka. Powerful Sex Shaman

- Angela 'Angie' Dawkins - Girlfriend/Concubine, Lindsey's friend from back in high school

- Lauren Baxley - Public girlfriend, Jerry's Prime in the magic world, closest friend and confidant

- Lindsey Parker - Girlfriend/Concubine, gal-genius, former neighbour of the Baxleys

- Annalise Stoker - Concubine/Girlfriend, Fire Mage

Referenced Characters

- Ezekiel - Former Seat of Fertility, his death caused Jeremiah's ascension

- Adama - Jerry's Seat mentor, magical obese black pixie

- Stacey Wilde - Girlfriend/Concubine, athletic, old family friend of the Grants

- Leandro de la Roca - Spanish Paladín of the Orden de la Espada de Piedra, protector of the Stone Sword, Sworn bodyguard to Jerry

- Maya Stoker - Annalise's younger sister

- George Stoker - Annalise and Maya's father, evil bastard, Plant Mage

- Aidra Allard - Petite goth girl from Jerry and Lauren's school, Fuck buddy, Witch

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"Anyone else feel like we're about to try and sell these people vacuum cleaners?" Angie mumbled.

"Knock-knock, hello, have you heard of our Lord and Savior, Jeremiah's Dick?" Lauren smirked.

I rolled my eyes at my two girlfriends, feeling about as awkward as Angie seemed to be. As planned, I'd spent a couple of extra hours at home that afternoon after school so that I'd have more leeway for the rest of the weekend. My mother had appreciated the face time, I think, and when I mentioned I was heading out to meet up with Lauren, all I'd gotten was a reminder to text if I was going to be out late.

A pointed reminder, but nothing worse than that.

Now, however, we were approaching a small home in the middle of a lower-middle class suburban neighbourhood halfway across the country. And even if I'd been a high school student and then a teenager with my Mom in the last few hours, now I had to be something else.

Jeremiah Grant, Lord-Sorcerer, Shaman of Fertility, ruling Seat of the territory from coast to fucking coast.

Sex wizard.

And in the house was a woman who had begged for help with her husband, who was allegedly using his 'wind magic' to torture her in a domestic abuse situation.

"This feels like something that should be above my paygrade," I sighed as we started up the path to the front door. The lawn was a little ragged, the driveway was cracked under two cars parked single-file, and the home had a sort of cloistered feel to it. Not ramshackle, butheavy. Like it wanted to fold in on itself. The light, patchy smattering of snow even seemed... greasy, like it had gotten spritzed with some oil or something.

"Except you've got the highest pay grade on the continent," Angie said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it sincerely. "I get this is... a lot for you, Jerry. But unless you find and appoint Judges or something to do this for you, it's up to you to take care of these things."

"I know," I said with a mild grimace.

"You can do it, and we're here to help," Lauren said, grabbing my other hand for a moment and leaning in to kiss my cheeks.

I took a deep breath and nodded. Judgements so far had been... weird. And the more I heard from Lauren and Angie about the requests that were coming in through the emails, the more we were seeing three 'tiers' and I developed a feeling that I really needed to get a reputation settled. Tier 1 were Nuisance Requests - people asking for things, and almost always including a low amount of information and almost never offering the customary sacrifice. Tier 2 were Civil cases, and we had a list of them already building up. They were almost always long-standing disagreements between magic individuals or groups, sometimes dating back to before Ezekiel did; apparently,hisreputation had been somewhat... medieval.

Reading that, even between the lines of some of the responses as Lauren and Angie gathered more information before setting a Judgement date, was a bit of an eye-opener. Up until now, I'd always sort of thought of Ezekiel as... like me. Except I still wasn't sure how old he'd actually been - he'd apparently had conversations with Jesus, so at least two millennia. That probably put him at least in contention for Top 4 oldest of the Seats while he was alive, and if the others were any indication, Ezekiel might have been a lot... weirder than I imagined.

The Civil cases were at least fairly 'manageable' in terms of how we could schedule them - both parties were made aware of all expectations and could prepare for their hearing ahead of time.

It was the Tier 3 requests, the ones I was thinking of as 'Criminal,' that were the problem.

We'd only had threebigthings sent to us so far that I would classify as criminal, though looking back, I would have included Annalise's request in that category as well. The only reason I'd been free to give her father notification ahead of time was because she'd been under my protection. Of the three new ones we'd gotten, one had been an accusation of murder but Lauren's request forwhythe person thought there had been a murder had been met with 'I just think he's creepy and probably has bodies in his basement' so it was a dud. The second one horrified Lauren and Angie because it was a kid being mistreated by his non-magical Aunt and Uncle who were supposed to be taking care of him. I'd been all ready to go do something immediately, except when I stopped to read the email myself, I realised it was the exact events of Harry Potter with a couple of name changes. A strongly worded email had been sent off with no response.

That left the Domestic in front of us. A Judgement where letting the allegedly violent party know it was coming ahead of time would be begging for them to bemoreviolent.

"We've got this," Lauren murmured as I stepped up to knock on the door. "You'vegot this."

I knocked, sending a silent prayer up into the heavens, and for a moment was distracted as I wondered if technically I was supposed to pray to Fertility, or if Iwasa representative of the magical force so I was technically praying to myself? And Adama had been pretty dodgy about the existence of deities like God or Allah while being more open that the ancient pantheons were based on powerful Ascended. Thor, Ra, Hades, and even the Buddha and Hindu gods like Krishna or Shiva.

There was stomping on the other side of the door and a raised male voice. Then the door opened, and we were face to face with the man of the house.

He didn't exactly fit the immediate mental image I got when I thought 'wife abuser.' That picture in my mind was of a slightly slovenly man with unkempt facial hair, baggy or bloodshot eyes, and rocking a beer belly underneath a white tank top and exposed boxers.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice dropping from whatever he'd been calling back into the house. Looking at us in mild confusion and maybe a little exasperation.

"Trent Branche?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow at me, scowling a little. "Who's asking?"

Trent was a thin, fit guy. I could easily picture him being at home in some ridiculous, tight running gear and preparing for a triathlon as he was in the nice business-y button-down shirt and slacks he was wearing. His hair, tidily trimmed, was gelled back, and he was clean shaven. If anything, I thought he looked like a high-end car salesman and not the monster he was being accused of being.

"Jeremiah Grant, Lord-Sorcerer and Seat of Fertility," Lauren announced me.

Thatgot more of his attention as his face screwed up in confusion, then shock, back to confusion. And then settled on perturbed.

"What, um, can I do for, my Seat?" he asked, gulping lightly.

"We'll need to step inside," I said, gesturing past him through the doorway. "And we'll need to see everyone in the house."

"I- Would prefer not," he said.

"I bet," Angie murmured under her breath.

"I'm going to have to insist," I said, returning his grimace.

He screwed up his face a little, glancing back into the house for a moment, then back at us. "This is my home, and this is still the United States of America. You don't have the right to just barge in."

I blew out a breath, shaking my head. "I'm not the government or the police, Trent. I don't need a warrant."

"Says who?" he said, a bit of a growl entering his voice.

"Says tradition," I sighed. "Says the Council of Threes, of whom I'm themostreasonable by a mile. And says your wife because she invited me here to begin with."

"...What?" he demanded.

I slammed the shielding in place between Trent Branche and the Unreal faster than he could turn and do whatever it was he was going to do. It was possible he wasn't going to do anything heinous, but I also wasn't going to take that chance. I didn't know enough about his magic to know if he needed line of sight to cut off his wife's access to air.

The strangled, painful scream as he clawed at his throat and dropped heavily to his knees just inside the door drew out the other two people in the house. The first was a brunette woman, a little curvy and very pretty, wearing a tight turtleneck and slacks like she'd also just come home from work. The second was a blonde, clearly the younger sister of the brunette, and she was dressed down in a bulky sweater and tights.

"Trent!?" the older sister said in a panic, rushing to him. She went to her knees next to him as he continued to whimper, holding his head with both hands. She looked up at me pleadingly. "What did you do to him?"

"Fuck," Angie muttered. I knew what she was thinking - here was a woman who was being abused by the man she still loved, however twisted that was.

"He's not actually hurt," I said, stepping up and into the doorway, reaching out to try and calm her. "He's just in shock because I've blocked him from his magic, and that's not something he's used to."

It did not help that Trent started openly weeping.

"Maybe we should all move inside," Lauren prompted and I agreed, making room for her and Angela to follow me in so we could close the door.

"Jesus Christ," the younger sister said, shaking her head.

"No, Jeremiah Grant," Lauren smirked. "You're thinking of someone else."

"Is there somewhere we can all sit?" I asked, ignoring my girlfriend's poor pun timing.

"What's wrong with him?" the woman asked, ignoring me and trying to soothe her husband. "Trent, come on, talk to me."

"Barbara," Lauren said, squatting down next to them. "I'm Lauren, Jeremiah's Prime, and this is Angie. You've been emailing with us. And I see your sister is here like we arranged. Are the kiddos at your parents?"

Barbara sniffed hard, seemingly remembering what was going on, and she swallowed and nodded.

"OK," Lauren said, offering to help her up as she looked over to the sister. "Meghan, right? Do you know what's going on?"

"Um," the other woman said. "Like... vaguely?"

"Do they have a living room or dining room with enough seats for everyone?" Angie asked.

"Suuuure," Meghan said, obviously a little confused. "Just, um, through here."

She led the way, and Lauren guided Barbara to follow, leaving Trent to me and Angie. The look on my girlfriend's face was one of distaste as she glanced down at the man.

"I got it," I assured her, nodding for Angie to follow Lauren. She huffed out a breath, gave me a look, and then leaned in and gave me a peck on the lips before following. That left me with the hyperventilating Trent. "Come on," I said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Get your shit together."

"What have you done?" he gasped. "What have you done?"

"I made you just like everyone else," I sighed. "And it doesn't need to last forever. It's just for everyone's protection."

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Now I grunted. "Because, Trent. Your wife has accused you of domestic abuse using magic and asked for a Judgement. You know what that means, right?"

He looked at me, his face a mixture of panic and anger.

"Yeah, you know what it means," I said. "Come on, get up. You'll get a fair shot to explain yourself or refute the accusations." I hauled him up to his feet and followed him as he trudged into the living room.

The place was nice, though I got the vibe that there was either a lot of thrifting or inheritance going on - all of the furniture had a sort ofvintagefeel, and not in a showy kind of way. It just kind of felt... Grandparent-ish. There were more modern elements as well, and it wasn't exactly cluttered or anything, but it just felt sort of uncomfortable. Like someone had tried to make it feel homey but had only accomplished a bad rendition of comfy.

Barbara, the wife, was sitting on a love seat next to her sister. Lauren was sitting on a couch next to them, trying to be patient as Barbara was sniffling a little. Angie had gone through an open doorway into a dining room, and she came back with an old wooden chair, setting it down firmly across the room from the wife and pointing Trent towards it. "You sit there," she said sternly.

I was surprised by the pained grimace he managed. "That'smy chair," he said, pointing at a recliner that didn't really match the other furniture in vintage or colour. It also happened to be right next to the love seat, commanding the best view of theothernon-vintage item in the room - the flat screen TV.

"Not today, it's not," Angie said.

"Trent,sit," I ordered him, a hand on his shoulder directing him towards the wooden chair.

He sat, looking like a kid who was about to be sick, and Angie made a point of sitting in 'his chair' while I went and sat next to Lauren on the couch. I almost thought my brunette girlfriend was going to kick up the footrest and everything just to rub it in, but she contented herself with smirking and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright," I said firmly, trying to make sure everyone was paying attention to me and not lost in their current emotional turmoil. I almost felt weird starting a Judgement without summoning Adama to give her advice, but this also didn't exactly feel like the kind of situation where whipping out my dick was anywhere near appropriate. "Before we get started, I think it's obvious not everyone is fully aware of what's going on. First, Meghan, doyouunderstand?"

The blonde looked at me with wide eyes. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Lauren prompted her. "According to our emails with your sister, you are both a witness and agreed to possibly be part of the sacrifice for this Judgement."

"Right, um... right," Meghan said, blushing a little. "Look, this is all kind of really new to me, OK? I just- it's all a little insane."

"She shouldn't knowanything," Trent muttered. Apparently, his shock was wearing off.

I took a deep breath, trying not to roll my eyes at him, and then focused on Meghan. She had to be in her mid-twenties, but somehow I felt older than her. Maybe it was her maturity level or her just clearly being out of her depth here, but it was kind of weird.

"I assume you've only recently learned about our world," I said evenly. "Do you have any questions before we get started?"

"Um... yes?" she hedged. "But I don't know..."

"The important parts are that Jerry is here to listen to Barbara's accusations and we'll have a mini-trial," Angie said. "And what he decides after is entirely up to him."

"OK, sure, he's the... magic judge cop guy," she said.

"He's the Seat," Barbara interrupted, murmuring beside her. "That's his title."

"Right, sure," Meghan said. "But isn't it kind of..." She looked around, obviously searching for a way to say what she was thinking.

"Your question is why does someone need to make a sacrifice for what happens here today?" Lauren guessed. Meghan nodded, and Lauren leaned forward a little. "Think of Jeremiah like... an ancient Greek god. Like Zeus, or Poseidon, or Hades - like the old Disney movie. He'sgood, but there are rules to how him and the other Gods do things. One of them is that if someone comes asking for his action, they need to make a sacrifice. Jerry only needs sex, which seems huge, but the other kinds of Seats either take entire parts of your life by eating your important memories, or literally require adeath."

Meghan gulped.

"Fucking a cute guy doesn't seem like such a big deal to save your sister now, does it?" Angie asked, still sitting with her arms crossed.

"Alright, please," I sighed, holding up my hands to them both. "Meghan, do you consent to be here as a witness in regards to your sister's accusations against her husband?"

"Um, yes," she said slowly.

"Do you consent to me using magic to ensure that you are telling the truth?"

She blushed a little bit but nodded.

I turned to Barbara. "You've made serious accusations against your husband, in detail. It's too late to take them back now if you were making them up - the truth is going to come out no matter what. Do you understand that?"

The older sister gave me a forlorn look and then burst into tears, and I honestly had no idea what was running through her mind.

I pivoted to Trent. "Any questions from you before we get started?"

"I don't even know what I'm being accused of," he grunted, shaking his head. "You're just ambushing me here, in my own house." Then he looked across the room at her wife as she was trying to get control of herself. "You'rejust ambushing me here with... what? Do you know what you'vedone?How did you evencontacthim? Howdareyou-"

"Stop," I told him firmly, pointing as a warning. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he shut his mouth. I let out my breath, a little harshly. "Alright, let's get this started so we can just get on with it instead of dancing around. Trent Branche, a Judgement has been requested against you by Barbara Branche. She's accused you of domestic violence using your magic, up to and including torture by asphyxiation. You will each have a chance to talk, but hear me when I tell you this - I will know if you are lying, and I willnotbe happy if you do. Once I'm satisfied with the process, I will make a final decision about what's going to happen."

"Where's my lawyer?" Trent demanded. "This is the United States of America. I'm guaranteed a legal representative. And what about a jury of my peers? Why should I accept anythingyousay when it should be a jury of fellow Ascended like me?"

Lauren looked like she wanted to say something, but I put a hand on her knee to stop her, and I took a slow breath before answering. "This might be the US, Trent, but this isn't a US court of law. If you weren't using yourmagicto do this, I would have likely referred your wife to the police - but this accusation involvesourworld, and you know that means someone from our world is going to be the one to deal with it."

"If anyone is threatening 'our world' then it's mywifeand now her bitch sister," Trent sneered. "This ismyhome,myterritory. I haven't threatened anything, and I have every right to use my magic outside the public eye. Maybe you don't know this yet because you're so new toour world, but what an Ascended does in our own territory is our business and no one else's. You don't have the right to just-"