It would be best to choose well the first time. They had their system pretty well worked out; maidens were not expected to balk. “You said I am on display?”
“In this manner.” A new picture appeared. This one was of a standing woman, naked, her flesh translucent. As the camera approached, it became apparent that this was a glassy statue, with the innards visible. There were bones in the limbs and organs in the torso. And in the center, in the looping intestinal tract, was a suite of rooms. And a woman with a baby. Herself.
Appalled, she watched herself of the prior day, nursing her baby, dressing in transparent clothing, exploring the chambers, eating, hurrying to the transparent toilet. She saw her own bottom from below, and heard her amplified breaking of wind. She had no secrets from the public, other than her face. She was the prize maiden, on display for every man who might be interested, and evidently some were. Nobody cared about her background; she was comely and available, perforce. She would be completely amenable to whatever sexual inclinations the man of her choice had. She would also openly piss and shit and fart at his command, for this was the land of open natural functions. For a full year. Or else. If this wasn’t hell, it was a reasonable facsimile.
Chapter 5—Now
Prior walked away from Mount Smegma, wanting a shower. It might be his own formula, but it stank. He’d have to launder his clothes, and maybe his car too. There was a woman standing at a bus stop.
HER the Spire gouted.
“But she’s forty if she’s a day,” Prior protested. “And getting stout. You can do better.” The truth was he wanted to clean up before getting into any complications.
SHE’S CLOSE.
“No, she’ll have to wait. My stench would drive her away.”
NOW. And the Spire gouted something into him that robbed him of his volition. He had to do it, on his own or as a zombie.
“Okay,” he muttered, and his volition returned. “But she’s going to flee, I tell you.” He strode toward the woman. She winded him and turned to stare disapprovingly. He nerved himself and spoke. “I—” he said, fighting his inclination to flee himself. “I want to— to have sex with you.”
“Never, you stench that walks like an ape. Stay away from me.”
“She doesn’t want to—” Prior murmured.
NOW. The Spire was expanding to its full length, projecting from his clothing. Prior stepped toward her.
The woman, alarmed, stepped back. “I’ll call the police!” He reached for her. She turned and ran, but was hobbled by her high heels. He lunged and caught her from behind.
“Unhand me, you filthy pervert!” she cried. Prior hauled up her skirt and jammed the erect Spire against her thigh. She froze for an instant, then melted.
“Quickly, please.” She hoisted her skirt up the rest of the way and labored to get her panties down. He was still behind her. It didn’t matter. The Spire quested across her thigh, up into her stout posterior, and found her crevice. It nudged to her suddenly eager vagina. She leaned forward and shoved back as it did so, facilitating the connection. In a moment it was buried half its length, which was all any normal woman could accommodate. But she was still pushing, trying womanfully to take it all in. The Spire had a marvelously conducive facility.
Prior had full sensation. The woman’s bottom was solid, but the anatomy was all there, and he felt the vagina closing around the Spire as if it were his own flesh. He also felt the Spire changing shape, shortening and thickening, so as to be able to fit all of itself into the woman. She was a bit loose, but the added thickness made her become tight. The tip nudged her cervix, massaging it; sensation was so specific that it was like a map of the interior.
“More! More!” she gasped, still shoving back as ably as she could man age in this standing position. Then she spied a telephone pole, grabbed on to it, and used it as a brace. “More!”
Prior was now into it himself, experientially speaking, and did his best to oblige. He reached around her, caught the pole, and hauled his crotch hard into her. Now, suitably anchored, the Spire did its business. It sent Prior a gutwrenching orgasm and gouted so forcefully that the woman was lifted partway into the air. But she jammed against the pole and brought herself down to take it all in again. Only to be met by another gout, that not only lifted her, but squeezed seminal fluid out around the tight connection.
“Ooo!” she groaned, going into her own orgasm. Her vagina clenched spasmodically, squeezing out more fluid. But as it relaxed, the third gout come, distending it yet again.
This was too much. She rose right off the Spire and came down on her feet, the pale jelly pouring out. She had been heaved clear of the member. She scrambled to get back on it, her crotch dripping. There was a honk. The bus was coming! “Oh, dear!” the woman said. They hastily covered up. The Spire disappeared into Prior’s pants, and the woman jerked up her panties and jerked down her skirt. Gunk was still drooling from her, pooling in the panties, but she didn’t seem to notice. By the time the bus stopped, she was looking prim.
“We must meet again, soon,” she whispered to Prior as she stepped into the bus. Then, to the front passengers who were staring, not quite sure of what they had seen: “I had a fainting spell. The kind gentleman managed to catch me and hold me upright. I’m all right now.” She paid the toll and took a seat. Prior almost thought he heard a squish as she did so; the Spire had really filled her up.
SHE WON’T TELL, the Spire gouted. SHE LIKED IT TOO WELL. I MADE SURE OF THAT.
It had nevertheless been a close call, Prior thought as the bus pulled away. The Spire could have gotten him into real trouble. Prior turned to go to his car, but the Spire made him pause.
WHAT IS THAT? Apparently it could see through his eyes.
He looked. “It’s a hospital. For sick or injured people. Nothing of interest there.”
WE’LL SEE. Oh, no! The Spire wanted to explore.
“I really don’t recommend it.”
NOW.
So Prior walked toward the hospital. A businesslike nurse pushing a gurney intercepted him at the side entrance. “You can’t come in here. Go to the front.”
Prior stepped close to her. “It’s my hand,” he said. “Feel.” He caught her hand and drew it down to his crotch.
“What are you trying to do?” she demanded outraged. Then her hand touched the Spire. “Come on in,” she said, drawing him in through the door. The cosmic dildo really did have the magic touch.
“I was just going to look around,” Prior said.
“Lie down on this,” she said, pushing him onto the gurney. “They’ll think you’re a patient.”
“But I’m not—”
She got him flat on his back, then climbed onto him, hitching up her uniform skirt. “Don’t talk,” she said. “Just do it. Fast.”
“But—”
She stifled him with a fierce kiss, meanwhile squirming around to get her crotch against his. The Spire sprang up, a prehensile instrument, sliding between her legs and into her rear. It wedged past her underwear and into her cleft. “That’s it,” she said. “Put it right in deep. What a divine implement!”
The Spire obliged. It tunneled into her hole, and she held her place, making sure it had good lodging. The Spire had just spouted in another woman, but it was inexhaustible; it could do this, literally, indefinitely. And Prior had all its feeling. This vagina was tighter than the other, and firm throughout. This time the Spire had the wit to be smaller, so that it required no reshaping to bury itself to the hilt.