Pornucopia (8 page)

He woke. This time he found solidity at his crotch. Not a penis—a base structure, part flesh and part plastic. The region around it hurt, of course, but he took this as a sign that the nerves were still functioning. Nerves that could bring as much pleasure as pain, when the occasion presented. To this ugly substructure would attach the penis proper—and he hoped fervently that it would perform as specified. It had, he thought with a half-bitter internal smile, been a real pain in the ass to get this far.

"One more procedure will do it," Oubliette announced briskly, looking amazingly clean and chaste and smelling the same. She was a marvel! One would think shit had never come within a mile of her person. "Come see my little eeg."

She already had a special enclosure for it. The eeg/egg had indeed hatched, and in the warm nursery toddled the eegling. It looked a little like a griffin and a little like a goblin, but more like a walking phallus with priapism: a perpetual erection.

"I don't see any mouth under that beak," Prior remarked. "How does it eat?"

"It's demonic," she explained. "It doesn't eat."

"Well then, how's it going to grow? I mean—"

"That's a hell-lamp," she said, gesturing to what looked like a complex sun-lamp. "The radiation gives it all the energy it needs. Demons are creatures of hellfire, pretty much."

"I guess so." He shook his head dubiously. "What does it do, when it grows up?" He was glad the thing hadn't hatched in his colon, for it had snaggle-teeth (despite the absence of a mouth) and wickedly hooked beak and saber claws and spiked tail and barbed wings. Not to consider its supremely massive (proportionately) phallus.

"It fornicates," she said.

Ask a silly question....

The next operation was minor. In fact it was not an operation at all, but a series of intricate tests. Oubliette connected his stub to a computer input and manipulated dials and settings and made what he presumed were significant readings. Sometimes he felt twinges in his crotch, sometimes irritation, and finally a testicle-bursting smash of erotic convulsion.

"Tests out well," she announced as he stopped thrusting. "We'll give it another day to set, then we'll run it through some practice exercises."

Prior was getting tired of surgery and testing. "When do I get my penis?"

She merely smiled obliquely and went to attend to her next client. He had to satisfy himself with watching the eegling sporting in its enclosure. Oubliette had given the thing a bit of Swiss cheese, and instead of eating it the eegling rammed its comparatively monstrous member into the holes and sawed away with indefatigable vigor. It never ejaculated, but of course it was only a couple of days old. Prior imagined that there would be copious ejaculate by the time it attained its full growth—and if it became man-sized, its phallus would be about two feet long. But he didn't see what there was about the ugly little demon that was worth over a thousand dollars for shipping charges alone.

The practical exercises, when they came, were well worth the wait. Oubliette opened a sealed package and lifted out a limber three-inch artificial penis. Three short stiff prongs emerged from its base. She aligned it and plugged it into his genital socket. "You lock it on this way," she said, giving it a twist and snap. "Reverse the motion to remove it. You'll get the hang of it with practice."

"I don't feel anything," Prior complained, eyeing the dangle. Had he gone through all this, just to wind up with a member even smaller than his original?

"This unit is factory fresh. It hasn't been activated. Here." She ran her finger under its glans.

There was a pop! and sensation coursed into his groin. The organ quivered.

"Now to test it," she said matter-of-factly.

She began to manipulate the organ by hand, paying special attention to its sensitive tip. Prior felt the stimulus, but the member remained flaccid. She put her lips to the glans. Still no physical reaction, though the sensation was enough to make cooked macaroni stand stiff.

"Something's wrong," she said, brow furrowing attractively. She wrenched the organ about, giving Prior a shock of agony. Then the lock released and the penis came loose.

Oubliette inspected it closely. "No wonder! The artery profunda penis is blocked. You couldn't pump any blood into the erectile tissue. Darned sloppy quality control at the penis plant these days."

"You mean the thing can't get stiff?" he asked, disappointed.

"It will stiffen after I adjust it, or I'll have its head," she said confidently. She reamed it with an instrument resembling a pipe cleaner. "Remember, when you change members ordinarily, do it in the flaccid state. Otherwise you'll lose blood, and it could be messy and embarrassing."

"The valve cutoff doesn't work?"

"No trouble there. But in the erect state the member is engorged with your blood. If you remove it before that fluid reenters your body—"

"Oh." He saw the problem. "Why would anyone want to remove an erect penis?"

"Sometimes there are emergencies. Or a client changes his mind during a performance."

"Hm." The possibilities were intriguing.

She reconnected the reamed member, locked it, and resumed stimulation. This time it swelled magnificently in her hand. At full elevation it had doubled its limp state: six inches long and perfectly formed.

Prior stared at it, bemused. He had never had a strapping lout like that between his legs before. It was like winning a sexual sweepstakes.

"Well, the proof of the pudenda," Oubliette murmured approvingly. She dropped her skirt.

Yes, indeed! Prior was suddenly so excited that he skipped the amenities. He bent her back over the work table and thrust his capacious member at her sweet cleft. It bounced off harmlessly. "Oops—forgot to allow for those two extra inches," he said, not particularly displeased. It reminded him of those bygone ads about the extra long cigarette and all the attendant disadvantages. Cigarettes, of course, were phallic representations; that was why so many people got hooked on sucking them, and liked them long and strong. Two extra inches were well worth some inconvenience!

Oubliette just smiled tolerantly. Obviously she had been through this sort of fumbling before.

Prior oriented more carefully and found the slot. As his big handsome glans nudged into her shaven slit he felt the pulsing warmth of her. He worked the tip of the member inside, finding the channel moist and slick, savoring every aspect. He was going to do big things with this big cock! He was really going to go to town! This clever female doctor was going to get a proper workout!

And as he forced the sensitive first inch into her luxurious and educated vagina—he came.

"Damn!" he wailed, but it was too late. The pump had started, and it would not desist until the entire cow had been milked, the pipe cleared. His angle was wrong, so that he could not penetrate more than that inch while the cream spurted. What an opportunity wasted!

"Slight oversensitivity there," Oubliette commented professionally, applying absorbent tissue as the member dropped away. "I'll detune it for you."

"No—no, I like it that way!" he protested despite his chagrin. "I'll get used to it. I always shoot off early when I haven't had a—when I haven't done this for a while."

"As you wish," she said with a suggestion of medical disapproval. "This unit seems to be fully functional, in other respects, and the foundation seems adequate. But we should try a reasonable selection."

She twisted the flaccid member so that it snapped off. Some blood dripped from its base, giving him a shock until he realized that even a detumescent organ would have some stuffing in it, particularly after use. At least the automatic seal on the base structure was functioning; nothing leaked from his body. There was evidently some very nice technology involved.

Oubliette washed off the unit at the tap, shook it dry, wrapped it in gauze and replaced it in its box. "These should be cleaned regularly, of course," she said. "And boiled in a salt solution once a week if used regularly. The prosthetic is never quite as convenient as nature's original."

That was an inconvenience he would gladly accept. Despite the prematurity of his ejaculation, the experience had been memorable. Six inches erect! It was like a wrestling championship, a bowling award, a grand prize in anything—and look whom he had wrestled with, look what he had bowled over!

She opened another box. "Now this is one of our most popular numbers," she murmured in sales-clerk tones as she broke the seal. She hauled forth a four-inch dangle and attached it. "Try it erect."

"But I just—I mean, twice in a row? I never—"

She removed her hair-halter and showed her fine bosom unadorned.

Prior's new penis climbed invisible stairs. At the upper deck it stood: a proud eight inches, slender but strong. He looked down at it, amazed and fundamentally gratified. This doubled his best natural erection. He felt lightheaded; could all the blood have gone into the member, lowering his blood pressure elsewhere? A trifling inconvenience!

"Sometimes a substitution of units restores potency quite promptly," Oubliette remarked casually.

"I think your breasts had more to do with it."

"Oh? They're prosthetic, of course."

"Prosthetic!" His erection wavered and threatened to collapse.

"My little joke," she said quickly. "I grew these naturally. See for yourself."

He saw for himself, with hands and eyes. His hard-on became mighty indeed.

"But it really shouldn't make any difference," she said with medical detachment. "Your prosthetic penis is as serviceable and esthetic as the natural one, and prosthetic breasts would be the same. I have a professional friend, Bovinia, who specializes in such procedure."

"Women want larger breasts?" he inquired, intrigued.

"Many do. But her main business is replacing injured mammaries—ones that have been beaten or bitten beyond repair—"

"Beaten or bitten! What sadist would do a thing like that?"

"Not necessarily sadism. Merely overly enthusiastic love-play. And some are lost through cancer, even today. Then of course she has a fair trade in the gay community."

"Men? Men with breasts?" Suddenly he remembered the last statue on the route to the Egglayers.

"Certainly. Bovinia and I exchange referrals. When a couple wants to change over, I take care of the penis for her, and Bovinia handles the mammaries for him."

"And they actually work?"

"Well, the ejaculate isn't potent and the breasts can't be used for actual nursing, but apart from that—"

"Yeah," he said, dazed. If the other doctor's breasts were as good as Oubliette's penises, no client should have a complaint.

Yet it didn't seem the same. His prosthetic member was big and handsome and potent, but it wasn't
him
.

"We might be more comfortable on the bed," she hinted.

They were. A cubicle adjacent to the laboratory had a firm bunk offset by large wall-mounted mirrors. It was ideal.

Prior spread her out on her back and lifted her long lithe legs so that her cleft parted. He kneeled appropriately and wrestled his member down to nuzzle the dark opening. This time the angle was correct, and the curved head pressed between the pink lips and slid inside without obstruction. He watched in the mirror as the long shaft disappeared: two inches, three, four. Probably his own previous ejaculation provided the lubrication, for this was almost too easy!

His legs felt cramped, and he had to pause in place to straighten them out. He braced his arms against her thighs, keeping her legs elevated, and leaned into his chore. Another inch entered, and another.

The Eggers had been correct about Oubliette being bottomless. Six inches deep, and he hadn't met resistance yet. Seven.

Finally his loins met hers, pubic bone grinding against pubic bone, and the mirrors were useless. That was the trouble with mirrors, as with pictures—a complete entry showed nothing! Cartoons always showed the cock half-cocked, with only a couple inches submerged, so that it was quite clear that fornication was occurring, but who in real life ever stopped there? (Except for the dolt who climaxed at that stage; he could think of one of those, alas.) If he wanted a picture, maybe some kind of X-ray photography, that showed a solid penis.... no, the X-rays would pass through the penis too; it just didn't seem feasible. Only Superman had X-ray vision that showed things X-rays did not, because Superman was a fantasy. Sex, unless carefully posed, was inherently private, for purely physical reasons. Unfortunately.

Meanwhile he had a situation here. Oubliette had absorbed all his eight inches without complaint! What good was it to double his phallic size, if he still couldn't touch bottom? Also, his first performance, truncated as it had been, slowed this one down considerably. He wasn't close to coming.

Then her interior muscles began to operate. She squeezed his organ, kneaded it, milked it, without laying a hand on it. Prior had never experienced the like! Peristaltic ripples traveled up and down her slick canal. Pressure, suction, pressure, suction, squeeze and draw and stroke—and before he knew it he was spewing his essence with an imperative abandon he had never experienced before. It did not seem to be dulled because it was the second; rather it seemed to reach farther into the roots of him, extracting pleasure from hitherto untapped springs.

She let him subside inside her, and that was another kind of bliss. "Yes, I'd say the operation was a success. No doubt your technique will improve with practice."

Prior didn't answer. He had thought he had done a bang-up job, but evidently he operated in a lesser league. Oubliette must have been screwed by experts.

"Now," she said briskly, "for the next exercise—"

"You're joking! I never came twice that soon in my life before. The orange has been squeezed dry."

But she had little patience with excuses. "This one is special. It's prehensile."

"Come again?"

"You will, you will. And this time I will too, and we can call it a night. Wouldn't want to overdo it for your first workout, after all."

"No...." he mumbled agreeably.

She affixed the member. It was S-shaped, about eight inches long even when flaccid, but no thicker than a pencil. It looked unnatural on him, and he didn't trust it.

"Let's have an erection," Oubliette said crisply. "This will require a little practice, but you'll find it is worth it."

"I'm spent," he said regretfully.

"You have not yet begun to spend. Do you think I went to all this trouble just to have you poop out for the main event? Now let's get this crate into the air."

Prior tried valiantly, but the crate only twitched and hung its snakelike head.

"This is insubordination," she said, irritated. "I'll goose it into action." She brought out a douche-shaped vibrator. "Bottoms up."

She had not been speaking metaphorically. Prior turned around, leaned over, and presented his posterior to her. She turned on the vibrator and pressed its horn into his quivering rectum. He was getting goosed by a professional! For a man who did not like pederasty, he realized his anus was getting a lot of attention. First the Eggers, then the enemas, and now this.

But the treatment was effective. His twisted organ jerked. It was as though the nerves of his colon connected directly to his penis. Maybe they did, now; how could he know the details of the surgery he had had? The S-shape began to straighten out, and the pencil-diameter swelled into fat crayon size.

Oubliette put more pressure on the vibrator. It nudged deeper into his anus, tugging at the membrane, one inch, two. It dilated the sphincter muscle and gave it a royal rubdown. It stirred up his bowel, sending a pleasurable and somewhat urgent warmth outward through his entire diaphragm. And the phallus expanded.

He felt the vibrator sliding yet further in. It reminded him of the enema tube, but this was three times as effective for arousal.
This
must be what it felt like for the woman, as the man's hard member thrust into her inch by inch! When his pulsing glans throbbed up against her cervix, did she feel—

The tip of the vibrator struck something. It added a new dimension of sensation. It was as though he were already ejaculating—but he wasn't. A phantom yet pleasant orgasm. "Prostate," she murmured.

Whatever it was, his erection was now complete. Some ten inches of serpentine penis bobbled under his belly. This one had not doubled in size; it had a different structure.

She withdrew the vibrator. It felt as though he were defecating, but it remained a most satisfying experience. His anus closed about the retreating horn as though to hold it in, but there was no holding it as it popped out. He straightened up and turned to face her, the organ waving like a slender tree before him.

"Now you control it by employing particular synapses," she said. "The muscular structure is built in; there is no direct tendon contact, of course. But once you get the trick—"

Prior tried, but the long thin phallus merely shuddered into a slight reminder of its limp S format.