Now the Spire had forged all the way into the frigid channel, and was buried to the hilt. It began working up for the first gout. Prior had to admit that the shapely cadaver seemed receptive. Her breasts were quivering. That was probably just the effect of the throbbing in her vagina, radiating out through her stiff torso, but he wondered. The Spire had phenomenal magical abilities.
But he had to keep talking.
“A few days passed. Then Dr. Smith reported to the dean’s office. ‘You will be happy to know that there is absolutely no evidence of breast cancer in Doctor Jones,’ he reported.
‘I am gratified to hear that,’ the Dean said. ‘You have done excellent work, Smith, and I will remember.’
‘You’re welcome,” Smith said. ‘In fact it was a pleasure.’ He paused. ‘But I must say, she has a weird way of making love. It was fun, but a surprise.’
‘We must learn to put up with oddities in the performance of our necessary duties,’ the Dean said.”
“If I got in bed with Miss Johnson, I wouldn’t care how weird she wanted it,” the doctor said. The Spire gouted. The liquid pressured into the aperture, giving Prior another phenomenal orgasm. Even the corpse seemed to appreciate it, closing tightly around the erupting member, enhancing the pleasure.
“Pleased, Smith departed. Shortly thereafter, the Dean had another visitor. ‘Why hello, Dr. Jones,’ he said. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’
‘You will be happy to know that I have completed your assignment,’ the shapely lady doctor said. ‘There is no evidence of testicular or prostate cancer in Dr. Smith.’”
The adjacent doctor’s laugh coincided with the Spire’s final gout into the corpse.
“Turnabout!” the doctor said. “I’ll have to tell that one to Dr. Johnson. Maybe it’ll make the luscious creature amenable.” He hurried away.
That gave Prior the chance to withdraw from the corpse’s heated cleft and get off her. She seemed to have a frozen smile on her face that he didn’t think had been there before. Now he could finally make his escape. Then he paused, observing the pool of viscous substance oozing from her genital aperture. “They’ll see that! It’ll incriminate me. I’ve got to clean it up.”
NO NEED, the spire gouted reassuringly. I FILLED HER WITH EMBALMING FLUID.
Prior had to laugh, somewhat shamefacedly. He found a sponge, mopped up what he could, tossed the sponge into a waste basket, and pulled open the curtain. He went out the door, and was soon out of the backside of the hospital.
And there was a uniformed meter maid ticketing his car for illicit parking. She wore full length trousers; no way to touch her thigh with the Spire.
TOUCH A DAB TO HER EAR the Spire gouted.
Prior reached down to catch the dab of goo at the end of the member, holding it on two fingers. “Don’t give me a ticket!” he called as he approached.
“Tough beans, mister,” the maid said. “It’s done.” Prior extended his hand toward her head. She tried to pull away, uncertain of his intent, but he scored on her ear. The goo smeared into the auditory hole.
The change was instant. “Music to my ear,” she said in wonder. “Come on, mister let’s have it.” She put her hands to her belt, dropped her pants and panties, and bent across the hood of the car with her bared bottom toward him, the labia parting to provide clear access. “Now.”
That was the Spire talking. Prior put the tip to her open crevice, stroked it delicately along the channel, then paused.
“About that ticket,” he said. She pulled it from her pocket and tore it in half.
“What ticket?” That would do. The Spire found the place and slid in halfway, pulsing like a motor on idle. “And no report on this incident.”
“No report!” she said eagerly. “Give it to me!” He rammed the member home. It was gouting even as he pumped, driving thick substance into her. “Aaah!” she said, transported. “What a magic rod!”
She was literally correct, though she didn’t know it. Prior let her have it until the stuff was squeezing out as fast as it was gouting in, drooling down to soak her pants. Then he pulled out. The last gout spattered across her anus and slid down along her crack like corn syrup between steaming pancakes.
“There too!” she cried desperately. “Put it in, put it in!” She put her two hands back and pulled her buttocks apart, making her sphincter fully accessible.
Oh? Very well. He set the tip at the wet pucker and pressed it in just far enough to make the connection. Another gout pumped through the tight closure, shooting its ejaculate inside. Prior almost thought he heard a splat as it struck the farther wall of her chamber. The shaft followed it in, lubricated by its own production, until it was fully embedded, still jetting gout after gout. He held it there, waiting for her to cry enough, but she didn’t; she would take all he cared to give. The rectum was far more capacious than the vagina, extending on back into the colon, and the stuff was infusing her lower intestinal tract. He was satisfied, because each gout was another surge of his own extended orgasm; the Spire was delivering the sheer joy of sex to both of them. Never before had he had a climax as long as this.
“Oooh!” she sighed as the deific spigot filled her up. Her anus clenched convulsively with her own continuing orgasm, swallowing the input, and her plump buttocks flexed as if she were running up an endless flight of steps. All of it helped his effort; this was a living, tensing ass. It was a pleasure to stretch it, quite apart from the long climax.
Finally it would take no more; driblets were squeezing out around the shaft. “Pucker it,” Prior said. “I’m pulling out.”
She did so, closing as the Spire slid slowly clear of the hole, and only a little was lost. “Thank you!” she gasped, and straightened up. Her belly was distended as though she were pregnant, from the sheer mass of protoplasm she had taken in, but she was smiling. “I’ll never let this go!”
Prior suspected she would have to, eventually; her body could absorb only so much, perhaps digesting it, and the rest would come out in a series of exotic defecations. But she had certainly had her joy of the occasion; it was a fancy price for the destruction of one measly parking ticket.
She pulled up her pants, not even noticing their sopping condition. “What’s your address? I want to spend the night with you.”
“Sorry,” Prior said. “I have to get home and clean up.” He got into his car and drove off, leaving her standing there trying to get her belt to fit around her bulging midriff. He was curious. “Will all that stuff make her sick?”
NO, the Spire gouted. IT WILL LEAVE HER IN ECSTASY AS LONG AS IT LASTS, AND EVERY DEFECATION WILL THRILL HER ANEW.
Prior was satisfied with that. He didn’t wish the woman any ill. Let her have all the orgasmic shitting she wanted. But it was time to put his foot down, as it were. “You’ve had your fun with four women and gouted a lot of gout. Tomorrow we go to Fartingale.”
AGREED. WE’LL FORNICATE THERE TOO.
Prior was sure they would.
Chapter 6—Plea
Veil struggled with herself. Now she knew she was on display all the time, day and night, her every action open to public view, even her natural functions. It was horrible, but she was stuck with it. She was the Maiden in the Tower, the prize for one of the men who won the privilege of taking her in sexual slavery for a year. What was she to do?
First she would stop putting on a show for the monsters. She had to eat, so as to be healthy enough to nurse Chance; she was not going to let him suffer. That meant she would continue to expel clouds of intestinal gas. But she could do that silently, and when she had something of greater substance to do on the toilet, she could make it quick and without any flourish. The rest of the time she would simply sit still.