WHAT A WOMAN, the Spire gouted.
“But what is on her mind?”
I REGRET I AM NOT A MIND READER. I CAN PICK UP YOUR THOUGHTS BECAUSE YOU ARE ATTACHED TO ME, BUT I COULD NOT PENETRATE HER UNVOICED THOUGHTS. JUST ASPECTS OF HER MOOD. I AGREE THERE IS SOMETHING. NOT BAD, NO ILL WILL, JUST CURIOUS. THERE IS SOMETHING SHE WANTS ALMOST AS MUCH AS POSSESSION OF ME, THAT PERHAPS YOU CAN FACILITATE. THAT IS THE LIMIT OF MY UNDERSTANDING.
“Well, I hope I can facilitate it, and make her happy.” They came to the first statue. This was a lovely nude woman, her arms spread invitingly, her lips puckered for a kiss. He had seen that expression before; it meant she was expecting him. “You know how to relate to the statues?” he asked the Spire.
OF COURSE. THEY ARE THE BASTARD OFFSPRING OF THE DEMONS OF THE FORMER CHERRY TREE, RENDERED INTO IMMOBILITY AND PLACED IN ASSORTED PARKS.
“Yes, of course. I mean, according to Oubliette I need their help in finding the way to Fartingale. That means—”
CERTAINLY. THAT MEANS ANIMATING THEM, WHICH CAN BE DONE ONLY SEXUALLY. LEAVE IT TO ME. I WILL ANIMATE THEM AS NEVER BEFORE.
“Good enough.” Prior unlimbered the cosmic dildo and let it project from the front of his trousers. He stepped into the lady statue. He kissed her stone cold lips, and they warmed slightly. Then the Spire found the place and slid into her hard cleft, which instantly softened. It penetrated her melting vagina and gouted, once. Suddenly she was fully warm and animate.
“Oh, you marvelous man!” she exclaimed, kissing him fervently. “You have made a woman of me.”
“It’s the Spire,” he said, knowing that the magic phallus had indeed done a job beyond the ability of any mortal man. When he had made out with her before, it had been a rather slow, difficult process, and she had spoken only one word before returning to stone.
“I know that, silly. I meant that you brought him to me. No one ever did that before. However can I reward you?” She hugged him closely, pressing her statuesque breasts against him.
“Just tell me the way to Fartingale.”
She made a stony moue. “Stay here with me, and I’ll give you much better sex than those smelly sluts.”
“I have to go there to rescue my ideal woman.”
“I could be your ideal woman, if you just keep My Lord Spire close.” She guided one of his hands down to stroke her firm bare bottom. She wanted to argue?
“I’m sure you could, but I fear my destiny is there.”
She pouted. “Oh, very well. I have put the path right. Go your way. But when you return—”
“You get another gout.”
“Exactly.” She kissed him again, ardently. It was almost possible to believe that she could indeed be suitable for him. Motivation was so important in a woman.
Then he drew the Spire out, and she reverted rapidly to stone. But there was a hint of rapture on her face; some of the Spire’s gout remained in her crevice.
The trail did not seem to have changed, but Prior took it on faith. The next statue was a man, as he remembered, but he thought might be a different one. The other had wanted anal intercourse, which was not Prior’s taste when it was his own anus in question.
I WILL DO IT, the Spire gouted.
Prior unlimbered the phallus of the Eldest God and approached the statue. He put the tip of the Spire to the statue’s rear crevice. It found the place and nudged in, issuing a gout. The statue came to life.
“I recognize that gout!” he said. “The Spire!”
“We’re going to Fartingale.”
“On your way,” the man agreed. The Spire withdrew, and the man became stone. His smile remained fixed as he reverted; his stone cold colon retained the hot gout. The next statue was a female goat. Prior was sure it had been a sheep before, so the path really was changing. He stood behind the doe and inserted the Spire. In a moment the gout brought her to life.
“The Spire is the best buck fuck in the universe,” she remarked, her interior squeezing it.
Prior was startled. He hadn’t expected her to speak fully human. But of course she was really a demoness. “We’re going to—”
“Yes, of course. It is there for you.” They moved on, encountering increasingly different statues; there was now no question that the path was changing. The original trail had led to the Eggers; this one led, he hoped, to Fartingale. And the Spire, with its eternal potency and conducive effect, was indeed making progress much easier.
Then they came to the mermaid. She was a stone statue with her tail immersed in a stone pool. How were they to get at her business end?
KISS HER.
He did, and her face softened and warmed. Then the Spire made a dropsized gout onto the water—and it clarified, becoming transparent in a widening circle. Soon the mermaid was floating in real water. She remained stone, however.
Prior doffed his trousers and climbed into the pool. He found the place under water just below the beginning of her scaled tail and infiltrated the tip of the Spire into it. It forged slowly into the softening channel there until it reached minimum operative depth, then gouted.
The mermaid’s tail flexed, and the member was suddenly forging twice as far into her. Her arms closed around Prior. Her lovely full breasts heaved. “More,” she murmured.
The Spire gouted again. The mermaid kissed Prior. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said. “Hardly anyone uses this trail these days. And you—you’ve got the Spire, you lucky man.”
“We’re going to Fartingale.”
“Where?”
“It’s a magic land where farts are common.”
“How uncouth.” She used her comb to straighten out his hair. “Whyever would a wonderful man like you want to go to a dreary place like that?”
Prior realized she was stalling, to make the Spire stay longer. But her breasts were very sleek and soft, her hands caressing his face and neck, and her hidden groin was stroking the embedded member. It was easy to allow this dialogue to continue. “I have to rescue my ideal woman.”
She frowned. “Don’t you realize that’s a miscue? What can she offer you that I can’t?”
“Legs?”
“Oh, who cares about legs! Nothing matches a great piece of tail.” She squeezed the Spire again, evocatively.
“Well, I’m really not a great swimmer.”
“I could help you there. Suck on my breasts.”
“Excuse me?”
She caught his head in her hands and bore it down to her left breast, just above the water line, setting his mouth against the nipple. “Breathe.”
He tried it, dubiously. Highly oxygenated air come into his mouth and lungs. He drew on it harder, and the breath of life flowed into him. This was wonderful!
She cradled his head with her arms. “All this can be yours, you nice mortal man. You can sleep in my loving embrace at the bottom of the sea, safe and warm and in perpetual erotic delight. What more could you ask?”
It was rather tempting. But he knew that the moment the Spire with drew, she would become stone again. It simply wasn’t feasible.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “That I have a heart of stone. But if you can get your friend the Spire to give me larger gouts where I can keep them for a while, such as in my other aperture, I can last a day or so between refuelings, and be everything to you.”
Is that true? he asked the Spire.
YES, it gouted, providing the mermaid with another thrill. BUT YOU WOULD STILL BE LIMITED TO THE SEA.
“But you’d be with me!” she protested.
He removed his mouth from her rich nipple. “And I couldn’t breathe underwater unless nursing from you.”