Soda, Chunks, and Cydroidobot were lost. After they left Dr. Slugg in Balzville they reached a succession of hills and valleys where constant climbs and descents were required. Up and down they went for hours, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the landscape, until finally, when they had topped a higher hill than usual, they discovered a cup-shaped valley before them in the center of which stood a chateau, built of purple stone. The chateau was high and broad and long. So far as they could see, there was but one small window on each side of the building and one large dead fleshwood door set in the south face.

  "I wonder who lives here?" asked Chunks

  "If people live here," said Soda, "maybe they have a bed or a couch I could crash on."

  "And if no one at all lives here," added Cydroidobot, "we can enter, and take possession, and make ourselves at home."

  While speaking he went nearer to one of the great doors where he discovered, engraved in big letters upon a big flat kaiju gallstone over the doorway, the words:

  "MINJ CHATEAU"

  "Why, this must be the home of the notorious murderer Maurice "Madman" Minj!" said Cydroidobot. “I guess his house shrunk when they captured him."

  "What’s a chestikull?" asked Chunks

  "Who’s Madman Minj?" asked Soda.

  "Madman Minj was a beastly serial killer that was captured and locked up in Quirk Prison a few days ago," replied the robot. "A chestikull is a sort of giant humanoid with pendulous breasts. If this is his chateau it’s likely to be empty and we may use it in any way we please. However, I had heard that Madman Minj was as big as a small kaiju, and this chateau seems made for someone only about twelve feet tall. So who knows."

  It took all three of them pushing on it, but eventually the door swung open, its great hinges making a groaning sound as if in protest. Soda, Chunks and Cydroidobot fell into a pile. Getting up and dusting detritus off themselves, the friends walked through the doorway into a big, bare hallway. Scarcely were the three inside, however, when they heard the door slam shut behind them, and this astonished them because no one had touched it. Moreover, the latch was on the outside, and the thought occurred to each one of them that they were now prisoners in this unknown chateau.

  "We’re trapped," mumbled Soda, "we are trapped in the house."

  "We are not to blame for what cannot be helped," said Cy, "so let us push bravely ahead and see what may be seen."

  It was quite dark in the hallway, now that the outside door was shut, so as they stumbled along a stone passage they kept close together, not knowing what danger was likely to befall them. They reached the end of the passage and before them was another huge door. This noiselessly swung open before them, without the help of anyone, and through the doorway they observed a big chamber, the walls of which were lined with commemorative plates engraved with images of mass murder.

  This room was also lighted, although they could discover no lamps, and in the center of it was a great table at which sat a twelve foot tall creature. It was pink and corpulent, with many skin folds and flaps. Her hair was rolled up in green curlers and she wore an old, ratty- but comfortable-looking purple bathrobe and green slippers. The table at which she sat was spread with a purple cloth and a big dish of biscuits, so the travelers saw that they had surprised the chestikull while they were eating their supper.

  The small giant had their back toward them and did not even turn around, but taking a biscuit from the dish they began to dip it in scroatgoat sauce and said in a voice that was big and deep but not especially unpleasant:

  "Why don't you come in and allow the door to shut? You're causing a draft, and it’s makin’ my nipples hard. When one has thirty-six nipples and those nipples get hard for the wrong reason, one tends to get cross, and when I get cross I'm liable to do something dangerous. Come in, little friends; come in!"

  Being thus urged, they entered the room and approached the table, until they stood where they faced the tall chestikull and her enormous cernuous breasts spilling out from the dingy white brassiere visible where her robe hung open. The door to the chamber shut itself silently. The pink, blob-ish woman continued eating, but smiled in a curious way as she regarded them.

  "Well," said the chestikull, "what excuse have you to offer for your trespass?"

  "A thousand apologies. We didn't know anyone lived here," explained Cydroidobot; "so, being travelers and strangers in these parts, and wishing to find a place for our meat friend to sleep, we ventured to enter your chateau."

  "You knew it was private property, I suppose?" said the chestikull, picking up another sloppy biscuit.

  "We saw the words, 'Minj Chateau,' over the door, but we knew that Maurice “Madman Minj" Minj is a prisoner in Quirk Quadrant, so we thought there was no one now at home and that we might use the chateau for the night."

  "I see," remarked the chestikull, nodding her head and smiling again in that curious way- a way that made Soda shudder. "You didn't know that Madman had a super best friend, or that after he was cruelly captured his partner Mallory shrunk herself and her house down and hid it in this valley."

  "Who captured your S.B.F.?" asked Soda, looking gravely at the huge pink creature.

  "Nefarious enemies. Humanoids who selfishly objected to my man accidentally killing a few people."

  "A few dozen," said Cydroidobot.

  "I must admit that Madman had a bad temper, and had the habit of knocking over a few houses and a couple movie theaters, now and then, when he was angry. And maybe he got to like the taste of fresh flesh, what of it. So the other day the little folks came in a great crowd with pitchforks and torches and captured him, and carried him away to a prison in bung-fungle Quirk Quadrant. I don't know where it is, and I don't care. He treated me badly at times, forgetting the respect one owes to a fellow chestikull. Often he bit me on my boobs or buttocks, when I wouldn't do what he said. So I'm glad he is gone. I've lived in peace and comfort since, albeit in this shrunken state."

  Cydroidobot watched her thoughtfully.

  "There are no fields of grain in your valley," said the robot, who noticed boring stuff like that; "where, then, did you get the flour to make your biscuits?"

  "Ugga magugga! Do you think I'd bother to make biscuits out of flour?" she replied. "That is altogether too tedious a process. This afternoon I collected some fleshrocks and transformed them into hot biscuits for my supper. The scroat sauce in this pot was once a puddle of sewer rat vomit, but since being transformed it has become sweet and delicious. All I need do, when I wish to eat, is to take something I don't care to keep, and transform it into any sort of food I like, and eat it. Are you hungry?"

  "I don't eat, thank you," said Chunks.

  "Nor do I," said Cydroidobot.

  "I have still a little alien feces in my backpack," said Soda. "That’s healthier than eating sewer rat vomit."

  "Every one to his taste," said the chestikull carelessly. "I suppose you think that after I had eaten these biscuits they would turn to rat vomit again and make me sick," she paused to belch; "but that would be impossible. Nothing I transform ever gets back to its former shape again. That is why I have to be careful of my transmogrifications, for while I can change forms at will I can never change them back again. Now, tell me how you happened to travel in this direction, and where you came from and what your errand is."

  So Cydroidobot told her all about Big Fat Fanny, and how he had decided to find her and marry her. The story seemed to amuse the busty pink chestikull, and she laughed heartily when the trio related their adventure at Balzville.

  "Are we to consider you our friend, Mallory, or do you intend to be our enemy?" asked Chunks.

  "I never have friends," Mrs. Mallory Minj said in a matter-of-fact tone, "because friends get too familiar and always forget to mind their own business. But I am not your enemy; not yet, anyhow. Indeed, I'm glad you've come, for my life here is rather lonely. I've had no one to talk to, except the belchkin." A belchkin was a gremlin-class yokai about the size of a ghoulie or a critter, with tiny short legs and long thick arms. Their misshapen heads had mouths like venus fly traps and their short stubby tails were always flecked with doo-doo. Despite their names they didn’t just belch, but also farted constantly, emanated rancid B.O. and had zero bladder control.

  "I shall enjoy your company," continued Mrs. Minj, "for I mean to keep you here as long as you live, to amuse me when I get lonely."

  They didn't like this at all, so Soda frowned in a way that made Mallory smile, while Chunks looked so fierce that the chestikull laughed. The chunks golem said:

  "Do you know, Ma'am, who we are?"

  "Of course," said she; "a clown, a robot, and a little girl."

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  "I am not a clown, I’m a chunks golem, and we are very important people," declared Chunks.

  "I’m an emperor," said Cydroidobot.

  "We have powerful friends who will soon come to rescue us," added Soda.

  "Let them come," Mrs. Minj returned, with an accent of scorn. "When they get here they will find neither a little girl, nor a talking garbage pail, nor a crazy-quilt clod, for after I eat I intend to transform you all into belchkins. I’ve got a thing for belchkins and love to keep them as pets, although I always end up killing them one way or another."

  Our friends tried to think of some way to escape from the chateau before morning, but she seemed to read their thoughts and shook her head.

  "Don't worry your poor brains," said she. "You can't escape me, however hard you try. But why should you wish to escape? Be contented with your fate, for discontent leads to unhappiness, and unhappiness, in any form, is the greatest evil that can befall you."

  "If Tremorroid Titiana knew that you dared to work thaumaturgy without her consent, she would punish you severely," declared Soda, "This chateau is in Bonertania, and no persons in Bonertania are permitted to work thaumaturgy without a license!"

  "That for your Titiana!" exclaimed the chestikull, spitting a loogie the size of a small dog on the floor in derision. "What do I care for a tremorroid whom I have never seen and who has never seen me?"

  "But Titiana is a flatulenz fairy," said Cydroidobot, "and therefore she is very powerful. Also, we are under Titiana's protection, and to injure us in any way would make her extremely angry."

  "What I do here, in my own private chateau in this secluded valley- where no one comes but fools like you- can never be known to your fairy Titiana," returned the chestikull. "Do not seek to frighten me from my purpose, and do not allow yourselves to be frightened, for it is best to meet bravely what cannot be avoided."

  Mrs. Mallory Minj went back to eating her dinner. The biscuits were so sloppy she had scroat sauce dripping down all over her many chins.

  "Then please don't transform us into belchkins!" begged Soda,

  "We are quite satisfied to remain as we are," added Chunks.

  "I am not expecting to satisfy you, but intend to please myself," she declared, "and my pleasure is to give you new shapes. Belchkin shapes. For, if by chance your friends came in search of you, not one of them would be able to recognize you."

  Her tone was so positive that they knew it would be useless to protest. Mallory finished her biscuits and let out a huge belch.

  "Now, let’s whip up some new belchkins!" She stood up and pulled open her bathrobe to fully reveal her dingy white brassier, which began glowing. Immediately the form of Cydroidobot began to change and in a few seconds Cydroidobot, the Robotic Emperor of the Mukuses, had been transmogrified into a gremlin-class yokai. But he was still made of metal. He was a green molybdenum belchkin.

  The chestikull seemed much amused by the molybdenum belchkin's appearance, for her laugh was big and jolly, and her massive cleavage jiggled and rippled.

  "Madam," Cydroidobot belched hastily. "I consider this action very impolite. It may even be called rude, considering we are your guests."

  "You are not guests, for I did not invite you here," she replied. Again the fat finger pointed, this time in Chunks' direction, the brassier glowed brighter and at once her form began to change. In a few seconds she had become a belchkin made out of the chunks of various humanoids and yokai.

  Soda was amazed, but he was also thoroughly frightened.

  "Did it hurt?" she asked the little stitched-and-stapled belchkin.

  "No, it just tingled a little," belched the transmogrified golem.

  "Well," remarked the chestikull, "I'm very well pleased with these new forms, for my part, and I'm sure you will like them better when you get used to them. So now," she added, turning to the girl, "it is your turn."

  "Don't you think you'd better leave me as I am?" asked Soda in a trembling voice.

  "No," she replied, "I'm going to make a belchkin of you too. I love belchkins- they're so cute and perform such amusing antics!- and since you are neither metal nor chunkwork I think I will make you a cyanotic belchkin. That will be pretty and amuse me when I am sad."

  Soda shivered, for again the plump pink finger pointed, and pointed directly her way. She felt herself changing; not so very much, however, and it didn't hurt her a bit. She looked down at her limbs and body and found that her clothes were gone and her white skin was becoming rubbery and bruise-speckled. Her hands and feet were now clawed like those of a belchkin. She realized she really was a belchkin, about the size of a chimpanzee, and her first feeling was one of anger. She began to chatter and belch as belchkins do. She peed on the floor without even knowing she was doing it.

  Then Mallory closed her bathrobe, went into the next room and soon returned bearing a golden cage in which sat upon a swinging perch a four-armed green belchkin who had a mandible mouth instead of rows of pointy yellow teeth.

  "Edwige," said the chestikull, "permit me to introduce to you a cyanotic belchkin, which used to be a girl called Soda, and a molybdenum belchkin, which used to be a robot named Emperor Cydroidobot, and a little stitched-and-stapled belchkin which used to be a woman-shaped chunk golem named Chunks. This is Edwige Kenchington, a chigger who made my sausages slap me around so I transmogrified her."

  “We know Edwige!" belched Soda.

  “She’s a good friend of ours!" added Chunks

  “Well she’s no friend of mine. I expected she'd cavort and tell jokes and we'd have good times together; but she has proved no company for me at all. Ever since the moment of her belchkin transmogrification, she has refused to belch a single word.

  “Now, you are all helpless and in my power, so you may as well make up your minds to accept your fate and be content. Remember that you are transformed for good, since no thaumaturgy on earth can break your enchantments. I am now going out now to milk myself. Amuse yourselves while I am gone, and when I return I hope to find you all reconciled and happy."

  So the chestikull waddled to the door by which our friends had entered the great hall and spoke one word: "Open!" Then the door swung open and after Mallory had passed out it closed again with a snap as its powerful bolts shot into place. Soda rushed toward the opening, hoping to escape, but she was too late and only she got a bump on her nose as the door slammed shut.

  "Hello, friends!" belched Edwige Kenchington the Belchkin. “I’m distressed to see Minj has transformed you too! Perhaps together we can figure out a way to escape."

  "Open!" belched Soda, still facing the door; but her command had no effect and she slowly rejoined the others, farting sadly.

  "You cannot open any door or window in this enchanted chateau unless you are in posession of the enchanted brassiere," belched Edwige. "I have been her prisoner, in this cage, for several weeks, and she hangs my cage in her bedroom every night, so that she can keep her eye on me. I have discovered that it is the brassiere that opens the doors and windows, and nothing else can move them. When she goes to bed, Mallory hangs the bra on the bedpost, and one morning she forgot to put it on when she commanded the door to open, and the door would not move. So then she put on the bra and the door obeyed her. That was how I learned the thaumaturgic power of the brassiere."

  "I see- I see!" belched the little stitched-and-stapled belchkin, wagging her lumpy head. "Then, if we could get the brassiere from Mallory, we could open the doors and escape from our prison."

  "That is true, and it is the plan I was about to suggest," replied the four-armed belchkin. "Perhaps one of us could hide in her room at night and get the brassiere while she is asleep."

  "I'll try it!" belched Soda. "I'll try it this very night, if I can manage to sneak into her bedroom."