"It hurts!" Prior protested, objecting on more than one level to the violation of his anus. "My operation—"
"Can't be helped. Just think of it as shittin' backwards. This ain't fairy stuff, now; this is an eeg." He rapped on Prior's lower spine with a calloused knuckle. Prior jumped—and in the moment his sphincter loosened, the eeg slurped in.
"Easy as bittin' a balky horse," Clucker said, satisfied.
"Work it around in there so it's comfortable," Plymouth remarked. "You don't want it down too close to the asshole, case you sit down hard or pop it out with a fart. Up around the curve of the gut is better."
"Um," Prior said, making swallowing motions with his anal canal. "What happens if it hatches early?"
"You got a morbid sense of humor," Clucker said, unsmiling. Prior decided not to pursue that matter farther, since the eeg was already lodged.
He departed on his puttery golf-cart, feeling the mass of the eeg in his bowel. What a profession!
The roadside statues remained. He could have sworn that some of them had changed their positions. If he ever came this way again, he would make exact notes and discover whether the various scenes of copulation were in fact in slow-motion progress. But right now the weight he carried and the ominous warning of the Eggers reduced his inclination to tarry along the way.
He made it without trouble. "Back already?" Oubliette inquired. She didn't seem crowded or busy—but who was he to question her? Maybe she had simply felt he needed the kind of education provided by the Eggers. "I brought you an egg. Eeg."
"An eeg!" she gasped. "Prior—you didn't steal it?"
"I'm no thief. More'n I can say for some people," he said, thinking of Tantamount and his bygone penis. "Clucker and Plymouth Rock sent it to you as a gift. It's pipping."
"Oh!" Hastily she brought a nest. "Lay it before it hatches! You're too young and innocent to die like that."
What shook him was the fact that she was perfectly serious. Prior squatted over the box and strained, not really caring that she was watching. She'd seen his crotch before—hell, she's operated on it!
The eeg, funneled well up his large intestine, refused to come down on demand. Oubliette poked her finger well up his tract but couldn't reach it, though the act did start a throb in him that would have been a hard-on in other circumstances.
"We can't wait," she said, alarmed, and he believed her. She brought a tube and inserted it into his rectum, driving it deep. He wondered whether this was what a woman felt like during intercourse, as the male member probed her vestibule. Then the warm bubbly water gushed into his colon, bloating him, and he wondered again. The sensation wasn't half bad, actually. She must have put something into the enema-rinse to relax his innards. She brought a metal potty and aimed him at it. "Push it all out," she said urgently. "I'll catch the eeg."
Prior strained. A jet of pale brown water shot out, splashing against her fingers. She had her hand right there, caging his anus, to make sure the eeg didn't slip by her and shatter in the pot.
Prior pushed and pushed, and the water squirted down endlessly, filling the pot and splashing Oubliette's hand, arm, bosom and face, but the eeg didn't come. Finally he trickled to a halt, unsuccessfully drained.
Well, not entirely unsuccessfully, he noted as he examined the container. There were several mangled chunks of fecal matter that had evidently been caught and sifted through her fingers along with the fluid. The smell was about normal for the situation.
"It's too far back," she said. "We have to get it out quickly. I may have to operate."
Prior looked at her brown-stained hands and arms. He didn't like the sound of that. "It's up here somewhere," he said, touching his abdomen.
"Let me see." She threw back his shirt and probed his belly, feeling for the solid egg. "Yes, here it is! Maybe I can work it down."
She pressed and pulled at his gut, squeezing at the object within it. Prior contented himself with studying her flexing cleavage as her arms worked. If he had a penis, she'd be almost in position to suck it now, he thought wryly.
"I have it down some, but not enough," she said. "Maybe I could reach it with forceps—"
"Another enema might carry it down, now," he suggested quickly. He certainly could do without hard metal forceps wrenching around within the tender folds of his intestine!
"Well—perhaps a thorough one," she decided. "But if this doesn't do it—"
"It will do it!" he said prayerfully.
She fetched a longer, larger tube and about twice as much water as before. "Lie back—I want this all in there without leakage."
Prior lay on his back, knees lifted, while she screwed him again with the spurting tube. This water was cool, and it pumped in interminably, chilling him from the inside out. This time he didn't just feel bloated, he was bloated; he could see the bulge of his abdomen, and knew that his insides were being shoved around by the ruthless torrent of water. As the bodies of succubus and satyr had been distended by their exchanged bolus of ejaculate. Just so long as none of his piping sprung a leak!
It became urgent that he squirt it out again, but she used her knees to press his buttocks together and seal off the leakage around the outside of the hose. She kept pouring in more water, holding the feeder-tube as high in the air as she could to increase the pressure. It felt as though there were three gallons inside him already, yet still it came, distending every conduit available within his torso. Now it was more than bloat; it was agony.
"Close it up!" she said at last, hauling out the hose and ramming his legs tightly together. His sphincter barely cooperated; the dike was about to burst! "I'm going to maneuver the eeg down while the water lends support."
Prior struggled and sweated and finally managed to constrict his protesting anus so that only a trickle of fluid emerged, though his whole urge was to let fly. He had never labored so hard at anything in his life before; the cold liquid seemed like a solid battering ram as it hammered at that puckered portal with every breath he took. Part of the urgency was sexual—except that now the desire to fuck was as nothing compared to the plain need to shit!
Oubliette probed his gut again, kneading his belly, and Prior almost blasted a liquid round from his rectum. She worked the eeg around and down; he could feel its sloshy progress as the hydraulic pressure translated directly to his anus.
"It'll come now!" he gasped. "It'll come. Let me at that pot before I explode!"
Slimy fluid was already dribbling down his legs as he got into position. "Ready?" he panted.
"Ready," she said, squatting behind him and cupping both hands under his tense nether orifice.
He let fly. Water blasted against her hands and sprayed across the room in a steady torrent. It was like letting the air out of a balloon: he deflated visibly as he pressed that column of water out. He imagined that there was a phallus attached to his anus, and this was the world's champion ejaculation, coming and coming... and he felt a genuine orgasm coming on.
The pot filled and overflowed, but still he jetted. Then the flow diminished, hesitated; his imaginary penis grew climactically hard, and—
In a spurt of yellow juice and a transcendent orgasm he laid it: a sparkling, rapidly-pipping ovoid. Oubliette caught it with a little shriek of delight and held it gingerly. "Whew!" she sighed rapturously as the fury of Prior's anal climax abated.
There was more water to shit, but the impelling need to evacuate was gone. He slacked off like a spent thunderstorm and stood up, shaking his dripping legs. He looked at her.