One thing fixed in his mind: what the hell was a cherry demon doing with butterscotch in its generative tract? The eeg should at least be consistent!
The light and the darkness and the bit of red swirled through face and brain, dancing shadow-shapes of zero depth. White and black stretched and strove as though at war and shaped themselves into a silhouette, and the image was of an ebony head with red in the mouth.
"You two-bit, whiteassed, lily-pekkered shit!" the head said.
"Black!" Prior cried. "How good to hear your compliments again! I thought you were dead!"
"I am dead, you pale-faced mother-sucker! That whore-demon defucked me, may the Good Lord piss on her."
"The Good Lord didn't get around to it, assuming that He still lives. But if it makes you feel better, I—"
"Shut your farting face, bleachturd! I'm dead (that's how I know God ain't)—but you still got heat in your balls. Get up and fuck that fucker!"
"But the eeg is invulnerable!" Prior bleated.
And woke. The vision of Black was gone, and the eeg was hauling his torso into position for the final ass-sault.
Well, he had Black's posthumous advice, for what it was worth. All he had to do was fuck the fucker (to use the big dead Negro's quaint idiom)—when the eeg had no orifice for the occasion.
Then his mind cleared, helped by a jolt from the demon, and he understood.
The eeg was dragging him arsey-versey past the geyser of ice cream. Prior jerked and twisted and managed to fling one booted foot into that rising column. Instantly his leg was wrenched up, splattering peach ice cream over them both, and he and the demon were hurled sidewise. The eeg's grip was broken, the taffy on Prior's arms cracked with the cold, and he scrambled free again.
He got to his feet and ran. His toes were numb from cold and shock even through the sturdy leather, and his entire leg was coated with peach syrup, but it remained serviceable. He lunged for his pack and pawed through its contents.
The eeg caught up again and resumed hauling, feet-first. It certainly didn't have much imagination! The demon probably had more intellect in its scrotum than in its birdlike skull, at that. But Prior had what he needed: Pipecleaner.
No problem about removing Normal. That member was thoroughly flaccid and half-frozen again under the ice cream. He twisted it off as the demon continued dragging, threw it away and applied the spaghetti-limp substitute, warming it with his two hands. Then he relaxed and concentrated on concupiscence, while his head bumped along the cherry ice. Oubliette, now... and her sister Tantamount. There was a female who really needed some penile edification, and not in the operating room.
He waited for his opportunity while Pipecleaner swelled into raw macaroni rigidity. Just as the demon got him to the stalagmites, Prior wrenched around, slender phallus erect and eager. "What do you think of that, eggshit?" he demanded.
The eeg's monster penis creaked down like a drawbridge and sniffed. Then the demon began shaking with laughter. Prior's challenging member was no larger in diameter than the slit in the tip of the eeg's phallus!
And as the eeg quaked with its derisive emotion (it probably hadn't had a laugh like that in centuries), Prior took careful aim, braced himself, and thrust. At that slit.
Pipecleaner rammed straight up the giant urethra of the demon.
Prior was fucking the fucker.
The eeg pulled back, amazed; but Prior grabbed handfulls of its disgusting hairy scrotum and hung on. He continued to drive his knitting needle up the cannon-bore.
The eeg tried to scream, but it could only make sounds through its penis, and that was occupied at the moment. Anyway, it hadn't finished laughing, and it was too stupid to realize that the nature of the joke had changed.
When Prior achieved operative depth he fired off six stitches, knit three and pearl three.
Now the eeg's laughter turned to a vast shuddering. Then the massive penis split open, and the rest of the body separated along that same line of cleavage, becoming truly bifurcate. Both halves fell to the floor and dissolved into cherry-wood smoke with a butterscotch mist topping.
Black's final advice had been good. Prior had defeated the last demon in fair genital combat, and now the Spire was his to claim.
Part IV: Dildo
Chapter Thirty
Tantamount was as lovely as ever. "Why hello, Prior," she exclaimed, as though pleased. "I haven't seen you in months!"
Prior stepped confidently in the door, grasped her by a slender wrist, and drew her into her own living room. There was a considerable bulge at his crotch. "I have what you've always wanted, you charming specialist," he said, patting his too-evident genital region. "I'll give it to you in exchange for my natural penis—dear old faithful 3.97 erect."
She adjusted her hairnet halter with a lift of her classic chin. "But there's nothing I want more than the advancement of science, medicine, and human achievement," she said piously. "Human enlightenment is more important than any other mission. The member you so kindly donated is my essential key to all of these. Once I have collected enough of its unique secretion—"
Prior brought her to the couch and stood her there, his fly seeming ready to burst open. He reached under her skirt to check her posterior equipment. It remained in order: firm, lush buttocks undefended by anything so gross as panties. He sat down and opened his bulging fly at last, revealing the tip of something massive and absolutely rigid.
"Prior, whatever are you—?" she protested.
He ignored this and lifted her onto his lap, so that her skirt spread out and left her cleft open for business at his loin. "Little trick I picked up on the beach, long time ago," he remarked. "Have you any idea how long it's been since I had a real live human-type nubile female woman?"
"Prior, really I don't—" she began. Then the cool, iron-hard horn nudged into her shapely crevice, and there was something about it that silenced her.
"You," he said, "have never been fucked like this, baby."
Her brow wrinkled distastefully. "Must you employ such uncouth language? There is appropriate terminology to cover the situation." But she wasn't really upset, for that surprising member of his was caressing her nether regions, promising a fulfillment unlike any she had experienced before, and the contact sent a warm exotic languor radiating out to suffuse her entire body. It was as though she were in love, with him or with his member, and had craved this contact for a thousand years. If deity had a physical manifestation, this was quite possibly it.
"If you have terminology, use it," Prior said harshly. "Tell me what's happening. And no fair peeking!"
She was perplexed. It seemed this was a completely one-sided sexual act from which he received nothing. While she responded to the incredible magic of his member, he was defensive. He had changed, somehow, and not only genitally.
The member moved, sending electrical thrills through her. "Describe it!" he ordered.
She tried. "Your phenomenal penis is stroking my mons pubis," she murmured. "It hardly seems like a prosthetic! Now it is guiding around to my left sulcus labiofemoralis—ooh, that tickles! Don't stop! Now it is crossing my comissura labiorum posterior.... sliding along my right labium majus pudendi.... my right sulcus nympholabialis.... sulcus preputiolabialis.... preputum clitordis...."
"You mean it's circling right around your sweating cunt," he said gruffly, "and coming up onto your little man-in-the-boat. Why the hell don't you talk English? So let's just jog your pleasure button a bit, huh?"