Pornucopia by Piers Anthony

new?"
    "I guess so," Prior admitted. "I was told to look for the Egglayers."
    The man reassessed him, scratching his ponderous belly. "You
ain't
an Egger?"
    "I guess not."
    "Then whatinhell you doing
here
?" the man roared.
    "I don't exactly know. I'm supposed to stay here for a few days until..." He trailed off, not wanting to be too specific.
    The man let fly a sigh as though breaking wind. "Well, come in anyway. Maybe we can train you."
    Prior entered. The interior was every bit as humble as the exterior had promised. There were cobwebs in the upper corners and roach droppings in the lower corners. But he was hungry and tired and his crotch hurt and he wasn't looking for trouble or for palatial accommodations. He wasn't much for mystery, either; if the man cared to explain what the Egglayers were, fine; if not, who cared?
    There was bread on the dirty table—a monstrous brown loaf, partially sliced. Beside it was a frothy bucket of brew. Prior helped himself and eased into the chair. Almost with the first bite he felt the gases bubbling in his intestine; this was flatulent stuff! "Who told you about the Eggers?" the man demanded as though just thinking of it.
    "Oubliette Emdee. You see, she—"
    "Oubie! Whyinhell didn't you
say
so?" The man belched resoundingly, and a faint putrid vapor drifted from his mouth. "Anything that li'l pekkermender wants is just fine with us!"
    "She told me to come here for a while so my preliminary operation can heal. Because she has other patients, and it gets crowded."
    "She's busy, all right. But she's got plenty of space. Must've wanted you here... sure you didn't come to learn Egging?"
    "I don't know anything about—"
    "You'll find out!" He laughed with unseemly gusto. "Who's she got under the knife this time?"
    "A sultan had his member damaged by a—"
    "That camel-humping African? Haw, haw! He never learns! She must've warned him fifty times: stay clear of the camels, Sult; one fuck too many and they fuck you back. Specially the he-camels. But that old shitter, he—"
    "And a homosexual with allergies to saliva and fecal matter."
    "A fairy what don't like spit or shit on his horn! Cheese, Oubie really gets the cases! How's your maypole sliced?"
    "I don't understand—"
    "You don't see Oubie just 'cause your swinger don't stand, you know."
    "Oh. I was deprived of my member, so she—"
    The man crammed a slice of black bread into his big mouth. "Hmd y'oos yr motherfucking coch?"
    "Beg pardon?"
    "Who sawdoff yr stinkin' horseradish?"
    Somehow the question didn't sound much better the second time around. Maybe it was the mouthful of food that made it sound messier than it was. "I was rolled," Prior said with simple dignity.
    Black crumbs spewed violently out of the man's hairy mouth. "Prick-rolled? My bellowing asshole! You don't say! Ain't that a jock-popper!" And he chuckled roundly.
    It seemed best to get this mirthful loudmouth onto something more productive. "Do you know anything about prosthetic members?"
    "Dead stick sledders? Never tried it myself, but I hear Oubie's the best fuckin' cocklock in the business."
    "You mean there's no sensation in the prosthetics? She implied—"
    "You're farting through your yellow teeth, junior. Sensation? When Oubie sews 'em on, just pissing can jack up your bug juice."
    "Especially underwater, I understand." But Prior took this as a favorable report. "What do you do here, really?"
    "We lay the eggs." He pronounced it with a long e. "Didn't she tell you?"
    "Not in sufficient detail."
    The man perked up a hairy ear. "Clucker's comin' now. You just watch."
    Sure enough, another magnificently bloat-bellied man barged in. "Well if it ain't Plymouth Rock!" the newcomer cried. "But who's yer mistress?"
    "Oubie's threadin' his clapper to the rucksack," Plymouth explained. "What's your load, toad?"
    "Gimme the nest, pest," Clucker responded.
    Plymouth brought out a box filled with straw. It did look like a nest.
    Clucker touched his soiled buckle and