She had not been speaking metaphorically. Prior turned around, leaned over, and presented his posterior to her. She turned on the vibrator and pressed its horn into his quivering rectum. He was getting goosed by a professional! For a man who did not like pederasty, he realized his anus was getting a lot of attention. First the Eggers, then the enemas, and now this.
But the treatment was effective. His twisted organ jerked. It was as though the nerves of his colon connected directly to his penis. Maybe they did, now; how could he know the details of the surgery he had had? The S-shape began to straighten out, and the pencil-diameter swelled into fat crayon size.
Oubliette put more pressure on the vibrator. It nudged deeper into his anus, tugging at the membrane, one inch, two. It dilated the sphincter muscle and gave it a royal rubdown. It stirred up his bowel, sending a pleasurable and somewhat urgent warmth outward through his entire diaphragm. And the phallus expanded.
He felt the vibrator sliding yet further in. It reminded him of the enema tube, but this was three times as effective for arousal. This must be what it felt like for the woman, as the man's hard member thrust into her inch by inch! When his pulsing glans throbbed up against her cervix, did she feel—
The tip of the vibrator struck something. It added a new dimension of sensation. It was as though he were already ejaculating—but he wasn't. A phantom yet pleasant orgasm. "Prostate," she murmured.
Whatever it was, his erection was now complete. Some ten inches of serpentine penis bobbled under his belly. This one had not doubled in size; it had a different structure.
She withdrew the vibrator. It felt as though he were defecating, but it remained a most satisfying experience. His anus closed about the retreating horn as though to hold it in, but there was no holding it as it popped out. He straightened up and turned to face her, the organ waving like a slender tree before him.
"Now you control it by employing particular synapses," she said. "The muscular structure is built in; there is no direct tendon contact, of course. But once you get the trick—"
Prior tried, but the long thin phallus merely shuddered into a slight reminder of its limp S format.
"I think we can prompt control," she said. She brought out a shining hypodermic with a cruelly long needle.
"Now wait a minute!" Prior cried nervously, backing away.
"It only hurts for the first five minutes," she said reassuringly as she aimed the needle at his glans. "After that it settles down to a dull ache. Try not to scream; it might disturb the other patients."
Prior's buttocks spread against the cold wall, halting his retreat. "Can't we do it some other way?"
"This is fastest." She put her left hand against the wall to stop him from sliding along it. She reoriented the hypodermic spike in her right. "Now the first shot goes in the base of the glans, under the foreskin. Hold still, because the needle has to penetrate almost half an inch to reach the main nerve, before the spider venom is injected—"
The penis whipped to the side, away from the threatening needle. "Spider venom!"
"Yes, that's how," she said, taking the needle away. "Some organs respond more readily to threats than to promises."
Prior was shaking. "You mean you weren't really going to—?"
"Not unless your tool failed to perform," she said a bit smugly.
"What's in that pigsticker?"
"Sterile water. But of course I wouldn't puncture a prosthetic, since it can't heal."
Prior was still breathing rapidly. This doll was deadly! At her direction, he learned to wiggle the penis from side to side, to hook the tip around, and to make an undulating S shape. The motions were clumsy, but he could see that with more practice he would be able to put this member through an impressive array of tricks—in or out of a vagina.
"Now let's harness it," she said. She got on her hands and knees on the bed and presented him with a hole-shaped orifice. This was about the only position, he knew, where the hole really was a hole—when the weight of the body was pulling away from it, allowing air to enter and spread it wide. He wondered whether he could see down to the end of it, if he had a penlight.
But this was no time to dally. Prior kneeled behind her and formed his member into a crude corkscrew. He concentrated on her crack and lunged his penis forward like a striking snake.
He was not as proficient as he thought. The serpent caromed off one resilient buttock and sprawled ignominiously against her leg. He hoisted it again, no-hands, and drove for the center crevice. This time it was on target horizontally but not zeroed in vertically, and it came up against the puckered clean anus. He shrugged and applied torque; she'd been into his ass more than once, after all!
But the resistance was too great, and his control too fumbling. The glans snapped out and skidded down to the waiting vulva, where it sank in easily.
Prior gave it a ripple and watched the slender length of it tunnel in. Air escaped as the mass of his entry displaced it from her open vagina. Down, down he drilled, undulating against the hot walls of her channel. Three, four, five, six inches. He felt the mouth of her cervix, and angled the glans to stroke it repeatedly. He wondered whether it would be possible, with this unique organ, actually to penetrate the uterus itself. No, probably not—not without damaging the womb. That region was reserved for sperms and babies and intra-uterine contraceptive devices.
Oubliette sighed, and he knew he was accomplishing something. But he was determined to plumb the full depth of her this time. In he went, a greased piston. Around the cervix, beyond it, down into the very nadir of her cavity. Seven, eight, nine inches!
Then at last he felt it: that cushiony resistance that signified the end of the alley. He straightened out the python and wriggled in the last inch, thrashing the head back and forth rapidly. He was going to stir up her gut the way she had stirred his!
"Oh," she moaned. Her breathing accelerated.
Prior leaned against her cool derriere—so unlike her blazing interior!—and reached both hands around and under to titillate her hanging breasts. That was why they were called tits, he thought: for titillation. These were fine and full, their nipples erect. He took one in each hand, hefting it as though weighing choice meat, and corkscrewed simultaneously with his embedded penis. He caught each nipple between thumb and forefinger and rolled it back and forth while his glans chafed at the dent in her cervix.
She groaned and struggled and flexed her bottom against him, and her breath escaped with a slight whistle, but still she did not climax. Prior, despite his two preceding efforts, was close to making it again. But he was determined this time to take her with him.
He had an inspiration. He let go one breast and moved his fingers to the front of her cleft, reaching around her thigh to come at it squarely. He dipped his forefinger in the lubricant of her two parted inner labia and rubbed back until his finger struck his own buried shaft, then forward again to her clitoris. Then he pinched the clitoris and mashed it up and down several times.
Now at last her buttocks grew hot too. Her back arched, her body stiffened, and she panted. He hooked the tip of his finger into the little fold of the clit and squeezed it back into its base while he shoved Prehensile with all his might.
Oubliette climaxed explosively. He had punched the right button this time! Her hips bucked back into him, her breasts flopped against each other and her buttocks tensed convulsively against his loin, squeezing his organ from its base all the way in. She jerked back and forth, riding his shaft, pumping herself along so that naked inches showed momentarily, only to be swallowed up again. Her entire vulva tightened around him, the labia closing on the base of his member, and inside that peristalsis wrung him in waves and tidal waves, concentrating much of his blood and all of his sensation within her.