"WHAT?!"
"Well, I know we'd be needing some lubricant for the fourth, so—"
Tantamount squirted from his grasp, assisted in the maneuver by the leaking lubricant, and stood on the floor quivering beautifully with fury. "Of all the—you, you—you MAN, you!"
"But for the fourth gout I have stuffed you with what you have always most desired. That's why it felt so good."
"But all I have ever desired is science, medicine, and—" she began plaintively.
"Precisely. And how do you propose to achieve all this?"
"I was setting up my laboratory to perform an exhaustive analysis of your penile smegma, to ascertain—"
Prior removed the Spire from his crotch where it had been fastened to his attachment-base, and set it upright in the center of the room. It was about a foot long, horn-shaped, with a gentle column of steam rising from its narrow aperture. "All you needed," he said gravely, "was enough of that unique smegma to spread out for your multiple tests. And 3.97 can't have been producing much, because naturally it doesn't like being isolated in the lab, fuckless. So you haven't gotten far, have you, saving mankind from a fate worse than abstinence?"
Her full breasts shook. "But in time—"
"You don't need time. You need smegma. Well, you have it now."
"I—?"
"Shit a little, Emdee. Find out what I put in there, that last gout."
Dazed, she squatted and strained. Her bottom extruded a waxy ribbon of substance. She caught some of it on her finger, brought it to her face, frowned and touched her tongue to it. "Smegma! You mean—?"
"Cheese, sister, cheese. My very own formula, proof against all venereal disease except amputation. All yours now."
"Smegma!" she exclaimed, brightening visibly. "How wonderful! There must be half a pound of it in me. I must conserve it all!" And she began straining in earnest.
Prior smiled indulgently. "Don't bother. I am giving you the Spire, set to that formula. It will produce as much as you need—maybe even more than enough." He twiddled with the great horn, and it began spouting more of the waxy stuff. The first sustained gout hit the ceiling and splashed down all over the living room, and more followed in a steady stream. It was a yellow fountain.
"Oh!" Tantamount exclaimed, running over and trying to catch it all in her hands. She was like a child in a candy store. "It's raining smegma! Oh joy!"
"Courtesy of Egg's cosmic dildo, the source of all potency." Prior sighed with satisfaction. "Now I'm going over to your lab and I'm taking back my penis—3.97 erect. It's a fair bargain. Have fun." He waved as he left.
She had already forgotten him. She was in smegma heaven. The stuff was pouring on her head, and she was smearing it over her exquisite body as though it were soap, transfixed by delight. "All I can ever use!" she cried. "I'll eat it, drink it, sleep in it—"
It took Prior about half an hour to get his precious penis disconnected from the lab setup and reconnected to his socket, but finally it stood proud and not too tall at his loin. Now it was just over four inches, because the socket added to its length, but he remained well satisfied. A long (or more correctly, short) lost friend had been recovered, and they were going to have a fucking good time together.
Of course he would keep the alternate members too, since variety was the spice of sex. And he would have to drop in on Oubliette to obtain a special fitting, so that he could handle the little errand he owed Black. A certain bunch of fat crooked policemen were going to get screwed—simultaneously. Compliments of a late noble man.
As he left the house he saw yellowish material pouring thickly out the window. It was excess smegma overflowing the confines of Tantamount's living room.
Prior chuckled. No one but he could turn off the Spire or change its setting, and he intended to lose himself. So unless the Eldest God of the Galaxy became aware of the situation and interceded, Tantamount would have more than enough.
In fact, this was the beginning of the formation of Mt. Smegma.