"She's too old. And ineligible. Hysterectomy. I can tell from here."

"She should be eager for it, then. And I want to see how you do it." And see what she did, and if she did, too.

"But the supervisor—"

"Your, ah, load isn't legitimate anyway, because I wasn't really asleep. So you might as well ditch it before you get in trouble for carrying contraband."

She looked angry, then shrugged. "All right, skeptic. You lie down on your side facing her and pretend to close your eyes, so no one knows you're watching. I'll set it up so you can see, but no one else can."

Prior nodded. Despite his cynicism, life stirred slightly in his loin again. He had called her bluff and she wasn't backing down; what sort of show would she put on now?

She walked away as he lay down. With each step she took she seemed to change. Her lovely broad hips became narrow, her hair shorter, her chest flatter. She paused to adjust her dress—and it was a pair of culottes or even Bermuda shorts, as much out of place on this beach as her skirt had been, but still unremarkable. Lots of people wore inappropriate clothing at the beach, and some walked the shoreline in full dress clothing.

Were there incubi among them, unsuspected? By the time she reached the supine matron, she was male. Prior had trouble believing this, but his eyes were quite positive about it.

The incubus kneeled beside the woman as though asking her a question. No one on the beach paid attention except Prior. The incubus then moved over casually until he was astride the woman, and still no one noticed and she did not wake. He must have put a small sleep-spell on her; no doubt incubi (and succubi, of course) had dependable ways to keep their subjects passive (except sexually) for the operation. Assuming such magical creatures really existed. Assuming that this was one such. Prior was still alert for some deception, though his disbelief was somewhat shaken. If what he had seen was a trick, it was one hell of an illusion!

Then the incubus brought out a tiny knife—or maybe it was merely a sharp fingernail—and sliced away a portion of her bathing suit, exposing the pudendum. He placed his body so that only Prior could see what was happening. Still, it could be an act, a farce, and the sleight-of-hand could not proceed much farther.

In due course the incubus opened his own apparel and brought out a massive phallic instrument. This was no trick; Prior saw it come erect while the incubus kept hands off. Had he not watched the creature every moment and been certain that no substitution had been made, Prior would not have believed this. Now he was convinced: the hungry female genitals that had sucked in his protoplasm were now aggressive male genitals eager to spew it forth again!

The incubus lowered this boom and brought it to bear on the fatty crevice between the matron's legs. It looked far too big to fit, but slowly he eased it in, pushing, stroking, sliding, jogging. The woman moaned, stirred—but the incubus touched her eyelids with one hand and she did not awaken. In fact, she was smiling. Prior wondered what dreams she might be having, half as phenomenal as the reality!

The tremendous penis hove to like a slow diesel into a tunnel, burying half its column in the tight aperture, then three quarters. Hoo!, Prior thought—that female would be sore tomorrow!

After that he couldn't see the detail because the incubus's thing blocked the view. But the motions of the merging bodies suggested that the rest of the shaft was finding or making its lodging. The woman's heavy torso shook with the impact of full penetration, and she writhed with something resembling ecstasy. Her knees came up and spread farther apart; her hands groped for the point of contact. She had probably never had so much meat inside her at one time before.

Ejaculation! The incubus plunged, withdrew, plunged again. The woman groaned aloud as the piston retreated, then she made a muffled scream as the spasm distended her. Prior was sure this orgasm dwarfed her previous experience—if, indeed, she had experienced orgasm before. That kind usually thought pleasure in sex was unpatriotic.

Meanwhile, beach activity continued. No one wondered what the strange man was doing to the sleeping woman; or maybe they just didn't care. Two girls walked by, glanced across, saw, and went on; it was none of their business. Prior realized that almost anything could happen on a public beach, including screaming rape, and nobody would react.

He glanced down at his own trunks, wherein his scant four inches throbbed with second wind. Certainly he was not one to bring a woman to life like that. There was no way four inches could match eight, except perhaps in endurance.

The incubus let it soak for a moment while an elderly couple walked by, then drew out the gross member. The fit was still so tight that Prior could see flesh stretching. Then the organ snapped out with a pop! that caused a passing child to glance curiously, hoping for bubble-gum. No such luck. The incubus stood up, shook off his flaccid extremity, fed it back into the shorts, and ambled away.

The matron remained as she was—legs spread wide, suit slit open at the crack, hands touching the greased labia. No one noticed except the child, who didn't care. And Prior, who had mixed emotions.

By the time the incubus reached Prior, he was female again. "The bitch had gonorrhea!" the succubus exclaimed, outraged. "Do you want to do it again?"

Prior's renovated erection abruptly died. This creature, by her own admission, was now teeming with activated venereal disease!

"I need another load, since that one was wasted on an ineligible receiver," she said. "You're handiest, since you put me up to it, though it's bound to be anemic so soon after my last collection. Now I don't mind how I get it—cunt, mouth, hand or whatever—or which form I take it in—male, female, neuter—"

"You mean you can get it as an incubus, too?" Prior was repelled and fascinated, the one feeding the force of the other. "And you have a neuter state?"

"Oh yes. Oral collection is invariably effective, and of course there's anal. Some men prefer neuters—they're like undeveloped young girls or castrates. Tastes vary. Sometimes we have to bugger the donor to get him to put out. I can show you—"

"I guess I'll donate in the normal fashion," Prior said quickly. He wasn't anxious to have that eight-inch member stirring up his twitching colon. He was dead set against buggery, anyway.

"I could suck you off," she said helpfully. "That little marvel of yours makes it easy."

"You'll take it in the pussy or not at all!" he informed her defensively. He didn't normally use lowbrow terms like that, but her condescending attitude was getting to him. "And not here. Come to my car."

She made another moue and followed him over the sand and across the weedy fringe to the parking lot. His dime had run out and there was a ticket on his windshield. He had tarried on the beach longer than originally intended. This ticket was particularly embarrassing, because he was professionally connected to the parking industry and this would look very bad on on his record. Like a dentist having a rotten tooth, or a grocery manager confusing the price of beans with that of caviar—though the latter was not hard to do these days, with the prices rising so fast that beans now went for caviar prices. "Shit!" he said, employing the basest expletive he knew, wondering if the succubus would be shocked.

"We supernaturals don't have to eat," she said equably, "so we seldom have to defecate. But if that sort of thing stimulates you—"

"I meant the meter. It stuck a ticket on my car. That's a dollar fine."

"Oh, I can fix that. We fuck up machines all the time. Let me get my ass on it, here—"

"I'll pay the fine!" he cried as she hoisted her skirt and lifted one shapely leg. There were whistles from a neighboring car. "Leave it alone!"