"Sometimes there are emergencies. Or a client changes his mind during a performance."
"Hm." The possibilities were intriguing.
She reconnected the reamed member, locked it, and resumed stimulation. This time it swelled magnificently in her hand. At full elevation it had doubled its limp state: six inches long and perfectly formed.
Prior stared at it, bemused. He had never had a strapping lout like that between his legs before. It was like winning a sexual sweepstakes.
"Well, the proof of the pudenda," Oubliette murmured approvingly. She dropped her skirt.
Yes, indeed! Prior was suddenly so excited that he skipped the amenities. He bent her back over the work table and thrust his capacious member at her sweet cleft. It bounced off harmlessly. "Oops—forgot to allow for those two extra inches," he said, not particularly displeased. It reminded him of those bygone ads about the extra long cigarette and all the attendant disadvantages. Cigarettes, of course, were phallic representations; that was why so many people got hooked on sucking them, and liked them long and strong. Two extra inches were well worth some inconvenience!
Oubliette just smiled tolerantly. Obviously she had been through this sort of fumbling before.
Prior oriented more carefully and found the slot. As his big handsome glans nudged into her shaven slit he felt the pulsing warmth of her. He worked the tip of the member inside, finding the channel moist and slick, savoring every aspect. He was going to do big things with this big cock! He was really going to go to town! This clever female doctor was going to get a proper workout!
And as he forced the sensitive first inch into her luxurious and educated vagina—he came.
"Damn!" he wailed, but it was too late. The pump had started, and it would not desist until the entire cow had been milked, the pipe cleared. His angle was wrong, so that he could not penetrate more than that inch while the cream spurted. What an opportunity wasted!
"Slight oversensitivity there," Oubliette commented professionally, applying absorbent tissue as the member dropped away. "I'll detune it for you."
"No—no, I like it that way!" he protested despite his chagrin. "I'll get used to it. I always shoot off early when I haven't had a—when I haven't done this for a while."
"As you wish," she said with a suggestion of medical disapproval. "This unit seems to be fully functional, in other respects, and the foundation seems adequate. But we should try a reasonable selection."
She twisted the flaccid member so that it snapped off. Some blood dripped from its base, giving him a shock until he realized that even a detumescent organ would have some stuffing in it, particularly after use. At least the automatic seal on the base structure was functioning; nothing leaked from his body. There was evidently some very nice technology involved.
Oubliette washed off the unit at the tap, shook it dry, wrapped it in gauze and replaced it in its box. "These should be cleaned regularly, of course," she said. "And boiled in a salt solution once a week if used regularly. The prosthetic is never quite as convenient as nature's original."
That was an inconvenience he would gladly accept. Despite the prematurity of his ejaculation, the experience had been memorable. Six inches erect! It was like a wrestling championship, a bowling award, a grand prize in anything—and look whom he had wrestled with, look what he had bowled over!
She opened another box. "Now this is one of our most popular numbers," she murmured in sales-clerk tones as she broke the seal. She hauled forth a four-inch dangle and attached it. "Try it erect."
"But I just—I mean, twice in a row? I never—"
She removed her hair-halter and showed her fine bosom unadorned.
Prior's new penis climbed invisible stairs. At the upper deck it stood: a proud eight inches, slender but strong. He looked down at it, amazed and fundamentally gratified. This doubled his best natural erection. He felt lightheaded; could all the blood have gone into the member, lowering his blood pressure elsewhere? A trifling inconvenience!
"Sometimes a substitution of units restores potency quite promptly," Oubliette remarked casually.
"I think your breasts had more to do with it."
"Oh? They're prosthetic, of course."
"Prosthetic!" His erection wavered and threatened to collapse.
"My little joke," she said quickly. "I grew these naturally. See for yourself."
He saw for himself, with hands and eyes. His hard-on became mighty indeed.
"But it really shouldn't make any difference," she said with medical detachment. "Your prosthetic penis is as serviceable and esthetic as the natural one, and prosthetic breasts would be the same. I have a professional friend, Bovinia, who specializes in such procedure."
"Women want larger breasts?" he inquired, intrigued.
"Many do. But her main business is replacing injured mammaries—ones that have been beaten or bitten beyond repair—"
"Beaten or bitten! What sadist would do a thing like that?"
"Not necessarily sadism. Merely overly enthusiastic love-play. And some are lost through cancer, even today. Then of course she has a fair trade in the gay community."
"Men? Men with breasts?" Suddenly he remembered the last statue on the route to the Egglayers.
"Certainly. Bovinia and I exchange referrals. When a couple wants to change over, I take care of the penis for her, and Bovinia handles the mammaries for him."
"And they actually work?"
"Well, the ejaculate isn't potent and the breasts can't be used for actual nursing, but apart from that—"
"Yeah," he said, dazed. If the other doctor's breasts were as good as Oubliette's penises, no client should have a complaint.
Yet it didn't seem the same. His prosthetic member was big and handsome and potent, but it wasn't him.
"We might be more comfortable on the bed," she hinted.
They were. A cubicle adjacent to the laboratory had a firm bunk offset by large wall-mounted mirrors. It was ideal.
Prior spread her out on her back and lifted her long lithe legs so that her cleft parted. He kneeled appropriately and wrestled his member down to nuzzle the dark opening. This time the angle was correct, and the curved head pressed between the pink lips and slid inside without obstruction. He watched in the mirror as the long shaft disappeared: two inches, three, four. Probably his own previous ejaculation provided the lubrication, for this was almost too easy!
His legs felt cramped, and he had to pause in place to straighten them out. He braced his arms against her thighs, keeping her legs elevated, and leaned into his chore. Another inch entered, and another.
The Eggers had been correct about Oubliette being bottomless. Six inches deep, and he hadn't met resistance yet. Seven.
Finally his loins met hers, pubic bone grinding against pubic bone, and the mirrors were useless. That was the trouble with mirrors, as with pictures—a complete entry showed nothing! Cartoons always showed the cock half-cocked, with only a couple inches submerged, so that it was quite clear that fornication was occurring, but who in real life ever stopped there? (Except for the dolt who climaxed at that stage; he could think of one of those, alas.) If he wanted a picture, maybe some kind of X-ray photography, that showed a solid penis.... no, the X-rays would pass through the penis too; it just didn't seem feasible. Only Superman had X-ray vision that showed things X-rays did not, because Superman was a fantasy. Sex, unless carefully posed, was inherently private, for purely physical reasons. Unfortunately.
Meanwhile he had a situation here. Oubliette had absorbed all his eight inches without complaint! What good was it to double his phallic size, if he still couldn't touch bottom? Also, his first performance, truncated as it had been, slowed this one down considerably. He wasn't close to coming.