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  After that initial breakthrough, the anal sphincter gave up and the rest of the incubus's well-oiled organ slammed in to its full length and depth. Properly embedded, the demon started pumping. Again the piston-strokes made the floor shudder as their velocity increased. Again the orgasm gathered itself deep in the fundament, shaped itself into a missile, built up with fire-hydrant force. The bolus tore its way back into the body of its originator, doubling the diameter of penis and anus as it charged through. Now the satyr's belly bulged as it filled. Someone made a sound, half scream and half sigh, transfixed by the sheer magnitude of this fornication, and Prior could not tell whether it was satyr, incubus or audience.

  One complete round was done. But the contest was not over. Prior continued to watch with avid horror, though his shorts were sodden with his own spontaneity.

  The incubus began to change without withdrawing. The transformation took care of that: in a moment the succubus stood with her vagina plastered against the satyr's anus.

  He farted.

  “Touché!” the vampire yelled.

  Then they commenced the second round. Prior knew this one would be worse than the last, for the bolus had grown. Someone's tubing was sure to burst!

  Chapter 8—Tantamount

  Tantamount tapped Prior on the shoulder. “Come with me,” she murmured. She was excited. One look at her heaving, hair-bound bosom was all the persuasion he required. He had had a couple of emissions recently, but his suffering penis pointed the way. He could come again—with her.

  She brought him to her laboratory, to his disappointment, not to her bedroom. “The ejaculate is normal,” she said, “but the smegma is extraordinary! I tried the sample on two VD cultures, and it destroyed them both. Mr. Gross, I believe you have the specific antidote to all venereal disease!"

  “In my cheese?” he asked, astounded.

  “Please don't be uncouth. Your smegma is phenomenal, if that tiny sample is typical. I shall have to set up a foundation to study it, to isolate the active elements, to make confirmatory analysis, to distribute worldwide—"

  “My cheese?!” he repeated.

  “Your smegma. This is a great moment for civilization! My name will be known wherever venereal disease abounds."

  Her animation was contagious. “That's great! And I guess it explains why the cures were irregular. When I washed my penis—"

  “Precisely. No penis should be washed too often, but yours especially must remain in its natural state. So I'm sure you'll want to cooperate. The last great barrier to completely satisfactory sexual intercourse shall come down, thanks to your contribution."

  “Sure,” he agreed, not certain what she meant. “But I can only produce so much ch—er, smegma. I can't keep trotting in here to—” Though if, by any chance, she were part of the deal...

  “Oh, I'll analyze it and duplicate the essential ingredients in the lab and patent the formula,” she said confidently. “All I need is a sufficient initial sample. Half a pound or so should do it."

  “Half a pound! That would take me years!"

  “Perhaps less time, if you are properly stimulated,” she said. “Shall we begin?” She shrugged out of her microskirt and began to unbind her marvelous hair.

  Prior could hardly believe his fortune. “You mean sexual activity speeds it up?"

  “Not exactly. But what I have in mind should accomplish a similar objective.” Her two fine, vibrant, heaving breasts emerged like torpedoes from the liquidly swirling green hair.

  “Sign here, please."

  Dazed by the living splendors before him, Prior scribbled his name on the form she presented. He would have signed a pact with the devil, at this moment of dazzlement. Presumably doctors had certain formalities to honor before letting go. Had to do with the doctor-patient relationship, no doubt. Who was he to quibble? He had never before had access to such beauty, and her compliments about his unmutilated, world-saving penis didn't detract significantly from his ardor either. How could he even have desired the succubus, who was only a demonic facsimile of what was real in Tantamount?

  She cleared retorts and burners and slide specimens off a laboratory table, found a thin air mattress, inflated it from a pressure cylinder no bigger than his erect member, and settled it aboard the table. “Lie down, please,” she said.

  “Me?"

  “You, of course."

  He had somehow supposed she would do the lying. Ah, well. He climbed onto the elevated mattress. It seemed more reasonable when he saw her gaze concentrate on his midsection. She probably wanted to play with it first. Anyway, it was impossible to say no to a shape like hers.

  Tantamount put her hand on his standing penis and caressed it fondly. “You are going to make my fortune,” she said, and it was almost as though she were addressing the member instead of the man. “You little beauty! Trim rather than fleshy, tidy rather than ponderous. Far more efficient than some of these elephantine slabs of meat some men display.” Her touch sent fabulous ripples of pleasure through him, as did her words.

  “But small,” he said modestly, loving it.

  “Petite, but no less masculine. Good things often come in small packages, as this handsome member demonstrates.” She circled the head of it with thumb and forefinger and began a gentle up and down motion. “You are just perfect, you darling! You are certainly more noteworthy than the partial members hanging from so many men.” Her eyes fixed on it as though hypnotized.

  “Uncircumcised,” Prior agreed. He was not inclined to argue.

  “Who?” she asked as though startled to find Prior still present. “Oh, yes, of course.” She stroked the penis again, and it practically purred.

  After a while she put her face down and lipped the tip. “Oh, I love you!” she breathed around it. Had Prior not been tapped so recently, he would have spouted right then. As it was, he felt a slow, delicious upsurge of pleasure.

  “Delightful smegma,” Tantamount said, running her tongue caressingly between glans and foreskin. The warm enjoyment extended down through the entire shaft and spread outward into his body. The world was tongue and penis and rapture.

  She eased off before an orgasm became unavoidable, and Prior knew that she was fully aware of his state and had it under control. Doctors had some impressive talents. Then she climbed onto the table herself and bestrode him, her resilient rounded breasts hanging near his face, her parted thighs embracing his hips. But she did not settle her luscious cleft on his ready member as he anticipated. She leapfrogged gracefully up over his stomach and chest until her dainty vagina hovered over his face. It was as appealing as the rest of her. Her labia were cleanly shaved, and looked as smooth and innocent as the genitals of a gradeschool girl. Her vulva smelled of disinfectant.

  “That device of yours, on the chair,” she began sternly.

  Uh-oh! “I can explain,” he said, speaking almost into the sanitary crack. He could see her cute clitoris wiggle as his breath brushed it, and he was most anxious to have no misunderstanding develop at this point. “I was testing this machine of mine, that—well, it—I just set it on the chair after the vampire—it's called the tamponer."

  “Interesting,” she said coolly. “You may retrieve your tampon now."

  He saw the small string of the tampon dangling like a firecracker fuse from her crevice, and was unreasonably jealous to think that it had penetrated her body before he could. He brought one hand up to grasp the cord.

  She balked him with a twitch of one thigh, the play of muscles shifting one buttock and making her inner labia slide against each other momentarily. “No hands."

  Oh. Well, it was a fun game. Prior hoisted his head and reached up with his teeth to clamp on the fuse. His nose nudged her clitoris and it jumped, and moisture appeared along the entire channel from clit to vulva. He finally got hold of the string and pulled down. The tampon slid out smoothly, moist but not bloody. It fell across his chin, a damp length of pseudo-cotton.

  “Consume it” she said firmly. He knew s
he meant it because her tight little anus puckered as she spoke.

  So this was her revenge for that mishap. If he wanted to get into it with more than just cotton, he would have to oblige. And he did want in—desperately. His penis would only stand for so much, before firing a warning salvo. So he tongued the soggy, half-collapsed cylinder into his mouth and began to chew. Actually, it had a certain flavor, as though mentholated.

  Tantamount nodded affirmatively, then slid down his torso to lie against him, her stomach crushing his penis flat against his own belly, her luxuriant breasts pressing down warmly.

  “I have been certain for years that smegma has been calamitously maligned,” she said, her breath tickling his shoulder. “Nature never produces a secretion aimlessly. Like the tonsils, like the appendix, every part of the body either has or has had its function, perhaps before civilization removed us from our divine intimacy with nature."

  Prior grunted amenably, his mouth still full of the sodden mass. The tampon was infernally chewy, and this discussion did not mean much to him at the moment. Not with his poor penis wedged between his breathing body and hers, on the very verge of lubricating both tummies with wriggling sperm.

  “The practice of circumcision is an abomination,” she continued, squirming around just enough to keep his member at tortuously rigid attention despite its confinement. “Truly, it has been defined as ‘the unkindest cut'! It was conceived as a ritual mutilation, from the notion that the young man must suffer before being admitted to adult society and status. He had to pay a price in pain and blood, before indulging in the lascivious joys of fornication. Punishment before the crime! Often the same was true of the young woman—her clitoris would be amputated at puberty, in an attempt to ensure that she never received any pleasure from the reproductive act. In Judeo-Christian times the pagan ritual was continued with the claim that ‘God’ had decreed the act, and finally it was suggested that it was even beneficial to human health."

  Prior crammed the cotton into one cheek so that he could speak. “I've heard that, but—"

  She slid up, almost milking his penis by the motion, and jammed a classic pink nipple into his mouth so that he was silenced again. “True—circumcised men do have a lower incidence of cancer of the penis. But by the same token women with their breasts amputated have less cancer of the breast. You could eliminate cancer of the brain by amputating the head of every citizen."

  “Mmmph!” he agreed as she thrust her breast against his face by way of emphasis.

  “And some claim—falsely—that the wives of uncircumcised men have a higher incidence of cancer of the cervix, and the smegma produced by the prepuce has been charged with the crime. The fact is, it is the frequency and nature of sexual intercourse that affects the cervix-cancer rate, not the circumcision. But even were the charge true, amputation of the foreskin would be no more valid a solution than complete castration would be to prevent unwanted pregnancies. If you attempt to solve all problems by butchery, it would be reasonable to abolish all human illness and evil by decimating the species. Genocide would certainly solve—"

  “Okay, okay,” Prior muttered around the delightful but slightly suffocating flesh. “I'm an unmutilated male, remember. I'm on your side, and I'd like to be inside your—"

  “But now I have the key to set the record straight,” she continued, giving him a firm turn at the other breast and pressing down so that it was all he could do to breathe, let alone talk. “I shall prove that smegma—and therefore the foreskin that secretes it—has an important and continuing purpose, quite apart from olfactory stimulation. No wonder venereal disease is rampant today, when so many males are either circumcised or unconscionably clean! This will go down in the medical annals! A specific cure for the malady of our times, virtually unknown in prehistoric societies before soap and the knife rendered man's innate defense impotent."

  “But how do you know,” Prior gasped, almost gagging on her turgid nipple, “if VD was prehistoric, or wasn't? Maybe lots of men had it and didn't talk about it. And what about all the other unwashed uncircumcised men that have—"

  She slid back down and planted a smothering kiss on him. Then, putting her hand over his mouth and stirring up the cotton inside with one finger, she said: “The twin fetishes of cleanliness and mutilation over the centuries have eliminated smegma as a viable venereal disease prevention and made its effective properties irrelevant to survival, just as modern man's propensity for shaving his face has eliminated the beard as a survival aid. Any human capability that goes unused too many generations becomes obviated. Thus it is hardly surprising that few penises retain their ancient defenses. Yours may be a unique throwback; that's why it's invaluable."

  “It's valuable to me!” he mumbled between her fingers. Doctors had some very frustrating propensities! When was she ever going to quit talking and get down to business? He was, oddly, becoming sleepy.

  Tantamount jockeyed about until her satiny cleft caressed his much-discussed foreskin, sending more waves of titillation rippling out. “And of course we have yet to come to the primary purpose of the prepuce itself. Sensitivity! The greatest concentration of nerve endings is there."

  Amen! he thought, as those same nerves deluged his brain with thrust-and-spurt messages. Ready or not, here he came—any moment now. She was teasing his poor member as it had never been teased before. No wonder she was called Tantamount!

  “That is why so many conservative prudes favor circumcision,” she said. “Their real reason, not their spurious meanderings and maunderings about health and esthetics and religion and manhood. Imagine proclaiming official manhood by unmanning the masculine member! Circumcision cuts down on the sheer, rightful pleasure of the sexual act. It—"

  It seemed to him she was beginning to repeat herself. “Speaking of which—” he gasped, spitting out the masticated tampon as his member went into its climactic effort despite the strange lassitude of the rest of his body.

  “Oh very well,” she snapped crossly. “Have your sinful pleasure. You men are all alike."

  She positioned her crotch above his own and used her hand to angle his organ in, barely in time. The first spurt smashed into the hot chamber like water from a sluice opened at flood-stage.

  Prior fought to remain awake, but somehow, frustratingly, his consciousness departed along with his seminal fluid. One impulse, two, three ... it was a countdown to oblivion. “Instead of coming, I went!” he thought with despair.

  And thought no more.

  Chapter 9—Donation

  He woke in his own apartment, his penis itching furiously. He reached down automatically to rub it, trying to remember how the past evening had finished—and found a bandage.

  A bandage! Had he come down with VD after all?

  He sat up groggily, yanking at the dressing. It came away with a flash of gruesome pain. For a moment he stared at his crotch uncomprehendingly.

  He did not have VD. The reality was much worse.

  His penis was gone—all 3.97 inches erect.

  It had been amputated.

  Dazed, he sat on the bed. How could such a thing have happened? He still had his testicles—but what good were they without the delivery system?

  He thought back to the party. He had seen the satyr making out with the succubus. Then Tantamount had summoned him, and—

  “Why, that thieving bitch!” he exclaimed, and the effort made his nonexistent penis hurt again. She hadn't been attracted to him at all, but to his penis! So she had drugged him somehow and stolen his masculine member. For the smegma she so worshipped. She had talked so long before coming to the point in order to distract him and keep him quiet until the drug put him down; only when she had been assured she had him, had she allowed him to have her.

  But he had taken no drug—not since the werewolf elixir, and that was not exactly a sleeping potion. He had put nothing in his mouth except Tantamount's lovely nipples....

  No! He had chewed on that tampon!

  He saw it now
, with an awful, betrayed clarity. She had removed the tampon after his machine had raped her with it. She must have dosed it with something, then reinserted it. That was why it had a menthol flavor. What fiendish female cunning! He had supposed it was a ritual punishment, but it had been far more sinister.

  And the paper he had signed during his bemusement as she bobbled her fine breasts, her matched and matchless breasts under his nose—that document was surely a release for his penis. He must have unwittingly—but legally—donated it to the cause of venereal research. Brother!

  And what was he going to do now? Storm back to Tantamount's house and cry “Look here, Miss Emdee, I demand my penis back!"? And she would show him the signed release and that would be that. When someone donated a kidney for transplant, he could not storm back after the surgery and demand it back. How could it be otherwise with a penis?

  But was he to go through the rest of his life with an effeminate hole where his meat should be? What would that do to his love-life? He was no succubus, to convert that hole to an impressive man-sized member at will.

  Prior dressed and drove to Tantamount's house. He didn't know what he was going to do, and knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try.

  She opened the door promptly. ‘Why hello there, Mr. Gross! So nice to see you again."

  This set him back. She was absolutely ravishing despite the mundane dress and conventionally bound hair. Now her tresses were ordinary brown—had the color been a trick of the night lighting?—and her bosom was demurely de-emphasized under a laboratory smock, and her fair face was innocent of any sign of any thought touching on anatomical matters between the shoulders and the knees. Yet he felt his absent penis stiffening, hoist by its own imagination, and he could think of nothing appropriate to say.

  “Do come in,” she said, as though he were an old friend. And when he was in: “Are you in pain? Let me check the dressing.” She kneeled before him, opened his fly and ran her slender fingers over his smarting crotch. “Oh, you removed the bandage. That won't do. This will heal nicely, but it has to be protected for the first few days. The operation was a success.” Sure, he thought laconically. The operation was a success, but the penis died. “I—"