The Magic Fart (6 page)

SHE WON’T TELL,
the Spire gouted.
SHE LIKED IT TOO WELL. I MADE SURE OF THAT.

It had nevertheless been a close call, Prior thought as the bus pulled away. The Spire could have gotten him into real trouble. Prior turned to go to his car, but the Spire made him pause.
WHAT IS

THAT?
Apparently it could see through his eyes. He looked. “It’s a hospital. For sick or injured people. Nothing of inter

est there.”
WE’LL SEE.
Oh, no! The Spire wanted to explore. “I really don’t recommend it.”
NOW.
So Prior walked toward the hospital. A businesslike nurse pushing a gurney intercepted him at the side entrance. “You can’t come in here. Go to the front.”

Prior stepped close to her. “It’s my hand,” he said. “Feel.” He caught her hand and drew it down to his crotch.

“What are you trying to do?” she demanded outraged. Then her hand touched the Spire. “Come on in,” she said, drawing him in through the door. The cosmic dildo really did have the magic touch. “I was just going to look around,” Prior said. “Lie down on this,” she said, pushing him onto the gurney. “They’ll

think you’re a patient.” “But I’m not—” She got him flat on his back, then climbed onto him, hitching up her

uniform skirt. “Don’t talk,” she said. “Just do it. Fast.” “But—” She stifled him with a fierce kiss, meanwhile squirming around to get her crotch against his. The Spire sprang up, a prehensile instrument, sliding between her legs and into her rear. It wedged past her underwear and into her cleft. “That’s it,” she said. “Put it right in deep. What a divine implement!”

The Spire obliged. It tunneled into her hole, and she held her place, making sure it had good lodging. The Spire had just spouted in another woman, but it was inexhaustible; it could do this, literally, indefinitely. And Prior had all its feeling. This vagina was tighter than the other, and firm throughout. This time the Spire had the wit to be smaller, so that it required no reshaping to bury itself to the hilt.

“Now! Now!” the nurse exclaimed, wriggling urgently, her effort to oblige the potent horn causing the gurney to start rolling down the hall.

Prior responded with a heave. He couldn’t help it; the Spire was working him up to another orgasm.

“Yes! Yes!” the nurse said as the Spire commenced pumping. She con tracted her bottom around it, getting all the feel of it she possibly could.

The Spire gouted. Prior felt the bolus pass through the penile length and pressure into the chamber like thick goo from a grease gun. “What’s going on?” a male voice demanded. “Emergency mouth to mouth resuscitation,” the nurse gasped, and pressed her mouth back on Prior’s mouth.

“Uh, okay,” the orderly said as the gurney rolled on past him. Fortu nately the nurse’s skirt was down behind, concealing the real action.

Meanwhile the Spire continued gouting, sending pulse after pulse into the hole. Prior felt each one as if it were his own, and perhaps he was contributing a driblet of semen, because he was certainly in the throes of an extended climax.

“Oh, I’m filled, I’m filled!” the nurse gasped in ecstasy. “What an erup tion!” She was hardly exaggerating; the Spire must have shoved a pint of viscous elixir into her. It was squeezing out and soaking his crotch. He knew what she was feeling, because it had a warm rapture throughout, making his skin tingle with delight. The effect would be magnified inside her distended vagina.

The gurney came up against a swinging door and barged through. “Oh, God, we drifted into the morgue!” the nurse whispered. “Play dead!”

“Hey!” a man protested, appearing form a recess. “What are you do ing?”

“Just delivering a fresh cadaver, doctor,” the nurse said. She scrambled off Prior, drawing the front of her skirt down. “All yours.”

“It stinks,” the doctor said. “What did it die of, suffocation in Limburger cheese?”

The nurse forced a laugh. “Something like that.” She shoved the gurney into a curtained alcove and drew the curtain across, hiding Prior for the nonce. “Do you have a moment? Let’s take a break.”

“From that stench? You got it.” Doctor and nurse departed; Prior heard the door swing closed behind them. Women, he realized, were naturals at covering up.

He got hastily off the gurney, ready to make his escape in the time and privacy the nurse had made for him. Of course she was covering her own ass, so to speak; she wanted him to get out so she wouldn’t have to explain anything. He was glad to oblige.

He didn’t want to follow the route they had taken, lest he encounter them again, so he went the other way, though a door into another chamber. This one was cold, with several curtained niches. In each niche was a corpse. He didn’t want to stay here long!

He was about to open the next door, but heard footsteps beyond it. He dodged back into the nearest niche and jerked the curtain across. He would hide, and resume his escape when the other person passed on by.

But the other did not go on. He—the tread sounded male—paused out side the closed niche. “What’s up, doctor?” he inquired. Yes, the voice was male. The closed curtain must signal that someone was there. “Just inspecting a new cadaver, doctor,” Prior replied.

“Good idea.” The doctor went to the next niche. “Might as well get a notion what we’re in for, next dissection class. This one looks good; how about yours?”

Prior looked at the corpse. It was a naked young woman lying supine in death, rather pretty, like a princess in a century-long trance. “Good enough,” Prior said.
NOW.
Prior froze for an instant. The Spire wanted to have sex with the ca

daver? “No!” he protested. “What’s that?” the doctor inquired. “Uh, nothing really,” Prior said. “It’s just that this is a young woman. It

seems a shame to cut her up.” “I know what you mean. But all the cadavers are here for the demonstra

tion lab. If we don’t carve them, someone else will.”
NOW,
the Spire repeated, and sent back a small dose that forced Prior to climb onto the woman. He tried to fight it, but could not; the Spire had control. Prior set himself full length over the corpse and the Spire angled down, seeking her genital region. “You okay there?” the doctor inquired. “Need any help?” “No, not at all,” Prior said quickly as his willful penis lodged in the cold

cleft and heated it. “Just—just a moment of nausea. It will pass.” “Occupational hazard,” the doctor agreed. The tip of the member found the frozen aperture and squirted out a jet of hot fluid, thawing it. Then it wedged into the crevice, melting its way inside. Prior realized that the Spire was going to complete the act regardless of the complications this could make for its human host. He had to cover whatever sounds there might be, and keep the doctor distracted until it was done and he could escape.

So he talked. His mind scrambled madly for something to say that might divert a doctor. He remembered a joke. With luck the doctor wouldn’t have heard it before. “Reminds me of a story,” he said. “I don’t know whether it’s true. The Dean of Doctors called in a handsome young doctor who was new to the hospital. ‘Smith,’ he said, ‘I have a special mission for you, if you are amenable.’ ‘Of course, sir,” Dr. Smith agreed, because he was as eager as the next for a promotion.” “Aren’t we all,” the adjacent doctor agreed. The Spire was a good inch into the frigid woman, and such was its power of persuasion that she seemed to be thawing throughout. Prior could almost swear he felt a faint pulsing in her tight channel. But he had to focus on his story, because it would be utter disaster to be discovered doing what he was doing. He hoped the phallic horn finished before the story did. “‘As you know, we have a strict health policy here,’ the Dean said. ‘Every member of our staff must pass an annual physical. But some are resistive. It is notorious that doctors often take worse care of themselves than they do of their patients. I don’t want disharmony, so rather than force the issue, I am resorting to a slight subterfuge. Do you know Dr. Jones?’ ‘The luscious lady internist?’ Smith asked. ‘I mean, the comely young doctor? We have a nodding acquaintance.’ ‘I am concerned that she has not performed her breast self examination regularly,’ the Dean said. ‘It is a matter I hesitate to broach to her directly, lest she assume I have some illicit motive.’ ‘Understandable,’ Smith said, glad to agree.”

“You wouldn’t be referring to Miss Johnson, the sexy plastic surgeon, by any chance?” the doctor asked.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Prior said piously. “‘I want you to ask Miss Jones out,’ the Dean said. ‘Funds will be made available for a really nice dinner date. Dine her, wine her, and cap the evening with an intimate liaison. In the course of that, give her breasts a thorough checking for untoward lumps or any other indication of incipient cancer. With luck, she will never catch on to your underlying motive.’ ‘She’ll think it’s my way of lovemaking!’ Smith said, understanding. ‘What a novel idea! Of course I’ll do it, for the good of the hospital.’ ‘Very good,’ the Dean agreed. ‘Report to me the morning after. I shall be most pleased if you accomplish this chore circumspectly.’ ‘I will do my best, in every respect,’ Smith agreed, visions or rapid promotion alternating with visions of the lovely Miss Jones in bed.”

“I wonder if that would work with Miss Johnson?” the doctor mused. “As far as I know, no staffer has bedded her yet. It seems a real waste.”

Now the Spire had forged all the way into the frigid channel, and was buried to the hilt. It began working up for the first gout. Prior had to admit that the shapely cadaver seemed receptive. Her breasts were quivering. That was probably just the effect of the throbbing in her vagina, radiating out through her stiff torso, but he wondered. The Spire had phenomenal magical abilities.

But he had to keep talking. “A few days passed. Then Dr. Smith reported to the dean’s office. ‘You will be happy to know that there is absolutely no evidence of breast cancer in Doctor Jones,’ he reported. ‘I am gratified to hear that,’ the Dean said. ‘You have done excellent work, Smith, and I will remember.’ ‘You’re welcome,” Smith said. ‘In fact it was a pleasure.’ He paused. ‘But I must say, she has a weird way of making love. It was fun, but a surprise.’ ‘We must learn to put up with oddities in the performance of our necessary duties,’ the Dean said.”

“If I got in bed with Miss Johnson, I wouldn’t care how weird she wanted it,” the doctor said. The Spire gouted. The liquid pressured into the aperture, giving Prior another phenomenal orgasm. Even the corpse seemed to appreciate it, closing tightly around the erupting member, enhancing the pleasure.

“Pleased, Smith departed. Shortly thereafter, the Dean had another visi tor. ‘Why hello, Dr. Jones,’ he said. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ ‘You will be happy to know that I have completed your assignment,’ the shapely lady doctor said. ‘There is no evidence of testicular or prostate cancer in Dr. Smith.’”

The adjacent doctor’s laugh coincided with the Spire’s final gout into the corpse. “Turnabout!” the doctor said. “I’ll have to tell that one to Dr. Johnson. Maybe it’ll make the luscious creature amenable.” He hurried away.

That gave Prior the chance to withdraw from the corpse’s heated cleft and get off her. She seemed to have a frozen smile on her face that he didn’t think had been there before. Now he could finally make his escape. Then he paused, observing the pool of viscous substance oozing from her genital aperture. “They’ll see that! It’ll incriminate me. I’ve got to clean it up.”

NO NEED,
the spire gouted reassuringly.
I FILLED HER WITH EMBALMING FLUID.

Prior had to laugh, somewhat shamefacedly. He found a sponge, mopped up what he could, tossed the sponge into a waste basket, and pulled open the curtain. He went out the door, and was soon out of the backside of the hospital.

And there was a uniformed meter maid ticketing his car for illicit park ing. She wore full length trousers; no way to touch her thigh with the Spire.
TOUCH A DAB TO HER EAR
the Spire gouted. Prior reached down to catch the dab of goo at the end of the member,

holding it on two fingers. “Don’t give me a ticket!” he called as he approached. “Tough beans, mister,” the maid said. “It’s done.” Prior extended his hand toward her head. She tried to pull away, uncertain of his intent, but he scored on her ear. The goo smeared into the auditory hole.

The change was instant. “Music to my ear,” she said in wonder. “Come on, mister let’s have it.” She put her hands to her belt, dropped her pants and panties, and bent across the hood of the car with her bared bottom toward him, the labia parting to provide clear access. “Now.”

That was the Spire talking. Prior put the tip to her open crevice, stroked it delicately along the channel, then paused. “About that ticket,” he said. She pulled it from her pocket and tore it in half. “What ticket?” That would do. The Spire found the place and slid in halfway, pulsing

like a motor on idle. “And no report on this incident.” “No report!” she said eagerly. “Give it to me!” He rammed the member home. It was gouting even as he pumped, driving thick substance into her. “Aaah!” she said, transported. “What a magic rod!”

She was literally correct, though she didn’t know it. Prior let her have it until the stuff was squeezing out as fast as it was gouting in, drooling down to soak her pants. Then he pulled out. The last gout spattered across her anus and slid down along her crack like corn syrup between steaming pancakes.