He nods. “Understood. Should be about ten minutes. I’ll call it in.”
“Thanks.”
He calls it in from my com panel and then leaves me alone. It takes me about three minutes to finally sit, because I can’t get comfortable, between the butt plug and my oversized cock and balls. That’s after staring at the chair for about a minute and realizing I need to sit.
I can’t spend the next five years standing up.
I mean, rationally, I know the sensitivity will go away, but this is not what I imagined when they said they were enlarging my cock and balls.
And we’re not even halfway there yet.
But once I pull the cover off the food and the delicious aroma hits me, I realize exactly how starving I am. I’m finishing the last of the fries when the valet returns with my second order, including a fruit smoothie and a large bottle of water. “Dr. H’looder asked us to remind you to stay hydrated. The smoothie has some added supplements to help your body adjust.”
“Thanks.”
I plow through that order, and the smoothie, and polish off the bottle of water, and sit there contemplating whether or not I’m still hungry. I should be barely able to move—from my stomach being full, not from what’s between my legs—but I feel like I’ve just finished a light snack.
I realize if I keep my thighs spread as wide as possible and sort of rock forward, it helps nothing get tugged or pulled on when I stand. Once I’m upright, I waddle my way over to the com panel and order an ice cream sundae.
Why not splurge, if it’s not going to count right now. Right?
Once I finish that, and more water, and another trip to the bathroom—my pee’s blue now, which is a little disconcerting—I realize I have to go back to bed. I’m exhausted.
I remove my robe and leave it draped over the foot of my bed. Moving slowly, I ease myself down and then carefully scoot back. I settle for gently reaching under my junk with one hand and cradling it as I carefully turn and edge sideways.
That actually helps a lot.
It takes me about five minutes to finally find a comfortable position, and I have to prop a pillow between my knees so I can lie on my side and not smash my balls between my thighs.
Had I thought this would be great, going up a few sizes?
I hope it wasn’t a mistake I can’t live with, not that I have much of a choice in the matter now.
One thing’s for certain—I’m probably not going to want to go any larger than the minimum H’looder recommends.
* * * *
Two days later, I’m wondering if my body is secretly becoming conditioned to enjoy being restrained.
I’m on my back on the table, strapped down and legs spread wide, my ass full of probe and what H’looder assures me is my last large infusion of bionanotech—for now—and I’m panting my way through an earth-shattering orgasm that I’m not entirely sure isn’t going to give me a stroke.
By the time we finish today’s session, my equipment will be at the recommended minimum dimensions, and I’m going to be good with that.
Hopefully Mohrn will be, too, because, honestly?
I am over this shit.
Forget pants. I mean, just forget them. I’m going to be wearing a kilt.
No, seriously. They got me kilts.
I don’t even want underwear, even though they’ve got me some of those, too. And I’ve never been a guy who enjoyed going commando before.
As the last throes of my orgasm finish echoing through my body, I slump against the table and try to catch my breath while H’looder and his techs examine the data.
“Excellent, Simon. The bionanotech seems to have completed mapping your pleasure pathways. How was that, by the way?”
He really expects me to answer.
“Can I go to sleep now?”
He turns from his screen and seems to process how exhausted I look, because I fucking am. I haven’t had more than an hour or two of sleep at a time since my first night back on board from Axind 5. If I’m not peeing, I’m trying to figure out how to get out of bed to go pee, or how to carefully get back in bed after peeing.
Or I’m eating. I’ve eaten more food in the past three days than I have in the past three weeks. Even after stuffing myself, there’s a constant, gnawing hunger that wakes me up if the peeing or thirst hasn’t.
“Do you need a break?” he asks.
I wearily shake my head. “Finish it,” I tell him. “I want to sleep.”
We haven’t even started the augmentation process yet, either, other than the translation ones I already received. And they still have to do the DNA pairing, or whatever it’s called.
“Very well.”
They make more adjustments, take more readings and measurements, and I find myself quickly caught up in the throes of yet another orgasm.
“That’s the last of that for now,” H’looder tells me once I’ve recovered. I keep my eyes closed and wince as they unhook me from everything except the control lead on my left pinky.
Then I groan—in relief—when someone gently applies the numbing ointment to my cock and balls. “Thank god!” I moan.
It’s like bliss.
I’m unstrapped, the table is reconfigured with me on it so I’m more or less sitting up with my legs somewhat together, although reclining a little, and I’m given another warm blanket and a bottle of water with a straw in it.
I down the bottle in seconds, and another is handed to me. I’ve actually gotten pretty good at trying to move around on my own two feet with my enhanced equipment, but it’ll be even easier now that I can’t feel it.
I damn sure don’t want to play with it.
H’looder studies some results on a monitor before turning to face me. “We’re done for tonight. I’ll have them take you to your cabin. We also need you to eat a substantial meal once you feel up to it, and we’ll bring you some high-calorie supplement bars to keep on hand as snacks.”
“Sure thing,” I say, exhausted.
“Also, you cannot masturbate tonight.”
A laugh barks free. “That’s not going to be an issue. Just give me some of that numbing stuff, please.”
“No, I’m serious, Simon. No masturbating tonight, or in the morning when you wake up.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Because we need you to perform a manual test in the morning, here in the lab, while being monitored so we can capture results. I want to get readings to make sure everything is working properly. It doesn’t help you if you can orgasm from electronic stimulation but not with manual stimulation alone.”
I’m starting to understand, but I don’t like it. “I’ve got to jerk off in front of everyone?”
“We’ll give you a privacy screen,” he tells me.
I think about the email I had from Mom this morning. She’s decided she’s going to get a degree in literature, wants to teach writing. Hells is leaving for secondary tomorrow.
They’re beyond happy.
They’re why I’m doing this, I remind myself.
And it’s not like everyone in this damn lab hasn’t either seen me orgasm, seen me ass-up on the table, or had their hand up inside my ass.
Or all three.
What’s jerking off going to do, ding my pride?
Please. I think we’ve established I have none, at this point.
I wearily nod. “Okay, fine.”
I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty when they want to return me to my cabin via gurney. It’s less walking for me, and I’m exhausted. They help me to the bathroom first, and then into bed. Thank god for the numbing stuff. It’s a relief not to have the discomfort of feeling a constantly engorged penis.
Never something I ever believed would be an issue in my life, either.
I order my food and settle in to wait. They know now to just bring it in to me, and with a bed tray. I sit there, propped up against the headboard with pillows, my thighs spread wide.
Thirteen inches is…
Well, it’s
overwhelming. I stare at it, able to do so now that I can’t feel it for a little while, meaning it’s not aching or demanding attention. It feels almost alien to me, as do my own balls. I always thought getting larger equipment would be cool, and now I’m not so sure.
Seemed like a good idea at the time.
But then again, don’t they always?
After I eat I haul myself out of bed to the bathroom, where first I don a glove and then slather more of that numbing stuff all over me before I use the bathroom.
I don’t want to feel it tonight. I know tomorrow morning might be uncomfortable, but I’ll risk it.
Somehow, I do manage to sleep more than just two hours, but I barely make it up and to the bathroom to use it when I finally awaken during the night.
Purple pee. Huh. That’s different.
I also look and realize, yay, I’m no longer engorged. But flaccid, I’m far larger now than I used to be when I had a full erection. Still, I’m a grower, not a shower. Maybe pants will be in my future after all. My balls don’t feel as swollen as they were, either, but they’re still larger than before. The skin around my scrotum is looser now, allowing them to hang a little lower than before.
It’s still only 03:00 ship time, way too early to get up. So I wash up and return to bed after eating one of the snack bars to take care of the slight gnawing in my belly.
Sitting on the bed is easier now, too.
I can’t deny I’m feeling relieved. I really was worried what I’d do if it stayed like…well, that.
I know one thing—I’ll never bitch about having blue balls again.
Ever.
Chapter Fourteen
I awaken the next morning needing to pee—of course—and starving.
Ditto.
When I make it to the bathroom, I also see I have morning wood. Not full-on hard, but stiff enough to choke things off so I can’t empty my protesting bladder immediately. With one hand against the bathroom wall to brace myself and the other holding my super-sized cock for aim, I stand there and think about going soft.
And…I do, after a moment or two. Just like that day at the mall.
I’ll be damned.
After I complete my business, I stand there for several more minutes making my super-sized cock go hard…soft…hard…soft.
It’s the world’s creepiest party trick.
Except I suspect it’s going to prove very handy. Because I’m not feeling the slightest bit horny right now. Thinking about jerking off in a lab full of people waiting on me to accomplish that feat does absolutely nothing to help me get in the mood, either.
I opt to eat breakfast in my cabin and I order extra. What I’ve discovered is that I might think I won’t eat as much as I order, but I’ll actually be hungry for more than that.
H’looder calls me moments after my order’s in. “Good morning, Simon.”
“Morning, Doc. Yes, I remembered to keep my hands off the equipment except for serious business.”
He chuckles. “You do have a very good sense of humor about all of this.”
“Not like I have much of a choice.”
And I don’t. Why should I be a dick to these people? While I’m waiting for my food, I scroll through my email and find a message from Hells. She’s settling in at her new dorm and extremely excited about starting classes.
There’s my motivation.
After breakfast I make my way to the lab under my own power. I’m debriefed—pun intended—about how I did overnight, my state this morning when I woke up, and then…
They want measurements. Soft and hard.
And a demonstration on my…control.
Which in one way is good, because it means I can make myself completely hard without having to get into a stroke session yet.
With the measurements taken, now it’s time for me to do my thing. They erect the privacy screen, the finger monitor is hooked to my left pinky so H’looder can track the bionanotech while I’m wanking, and I’m given some lube and a blanket before everyone retreats behind the privacy screen. They have a video camera trained on me from above, though, for observation. So it’s not much more than an illusion of privacy.
But this is what I signed up for, and no one’s shooting at me, so I call it a win.
“Can I get some music or something?” I snark. “Rock, or something with a beat. Just no opera, please?”
A couple of the human techs laugh from the other side of the screen, but someone starts some music. Nothing I can’t work with, a rock group from a human colony I’ve listened to before plenty of times while working on equipment in the mech bay.
“Thanks,” I say.
I squirt a generous amount of lube into my right palm and once again will my cock to get hard. I don’t know how long I can keep myself hard without actively concentrating on it if I’m not horny. I already know I can get hard without being horny.
But I’m not going to be able to climax without medical assistance if I’m not horny, so I need to stumble my way through this so I can perform.
I close my eyes and my mind spins a crazy roulette wheel, trying to find a fantasy to lock on to.
Then Mohrn’s face comes to mind and I freeze it there. I haven’t seen pictures of her…eh, privates yet, but I opt to go with a fantasy that they’re human-like.
Human enough.
I think about the first time we’ll be together—hopefully alone and without a room full of scientists watching us—and I want to make it a good experience for her.
As much as I can under the circumstances, that is.
It won’t be perfect, or some fairy tale union. I’m sure in her fantasies a human didn’t prominently figure there.
We’re in this together, for better or for worse, and I won’t let her down.
When my body starts to finally get into it, I feel physical desire kick in.
Yay!
This isn’t going to be a fun session—this is pounding my prick with a purpose. I don’t bother trying to hold back or build it up, either. I stroke quickly, which is another interesting exercise in trying to learn what my overhauled member likes best. It takes me a few minutes but I finally manage to get there, squeezing my eyes shut and explosions going off behind my eyelids as the blast pulses out of me with incredible force. I shudder as wave after wave hits me, wringing every last ounce of strength out of me before I lie there shaky, weak, and not at all emotionally satisfied.
But I did the thing.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m done.” I grab a towel they’d also left for me and I wipe my hand down and wipe myself, pulling the blanket into place over me. As they move in, I realize I’ve made a mess all over the freaking place. I managed to hit the privacy screen a good five feet away from me, and there’s a splattered trail on the floor, too.
A lot. Like, way more jizz than I ever used to produce. Like, maybe as much as I produced in an entire freaking year, and then some.
And now I’m really thirsty.
Someone brings me a couple of bottles of water, and another debriefing commences while they run the data gathered from the bionanotech. Fortunately, my improved equipment is deemed roadworthy. I’m shocked by how much more powerful my orgasm felt, too.
Honestly? As I think about it, it feels really weird handling my own junk now. Because even though I can obviously feel it’s mine, and attached to my body, it’s…strange. It’s thicker and longer and sensitive in different places—more sensitive—and the head’s larger. Like I have to learn how to use it all over again.
This morning, however, they don’t want me doing that again right now.
Thank god.
Now starts the next phase of the process—introducing Mohrn’s DNA and hormones to my body and to the bionanotech.
I’m allowed to put on clothes, though, because they’ll be doing this the old-fashioned way.
Through a needle.
I sit back and close my eyes as they start doing their thing. I’m instructed to tell them if I start to feel
anything unusual, but that’s all that’s required of me, for now.
By noon I’m starving again. I’m also sporting a temporary IV port to continue the infusions. I’m still wearing the bionanotech sensor on my left pinky finger for now, because it’s talking to the stuff already inside me and giving it instructions on how to integrate with what they’re pumping into me. They want it to remain in place to monitor me without having to wire me up to monitors in the lab.
I return to my stateroom to eat alone. I really don’t want to eat with people I know have stood there just a couple of hours ago and watched me orgasm. Nothing against them, I know it’s their job, but it weirds me out.
After eating, I try on clothes again.
Specifically pants. I’m relieved to discover I can now wear the sweatpants I bought, but underwear’s still a no-go. Way too tight around my balls. At least, the briefs I have are too tight. The techs said they will try to find me some that’ll work for me. And to wear the sweatpants commando, I need to shift my penis to one side of the seam, and my balls to the other.
Not to mention I have to be careful when I sit, so nothing gets bound up.
They gave me a pair of oversized scrub pants to try. While a little long, at least they’re baggy enough in the crotch that they’re comfortable. Not very fashionable, though.
The regular trousers I have are a no-go. Not nearly enough room in the crotch now. If my balls weren’t so damn big, they’d fit okay. Apparently I’m going to need the volume. So that is one thing maybe I’ll have undone. Maybe they can let me keep the larger cock, but shrink the boys to a more reasonable size. I could live with that.
The kilts are not a bad choice, actually, even though I hate feeling like there’s a breeze up there. Functionally, they’re going to mean I can wear something other than hospital scrubs or sweatpants.
After lunch I’m back in the chair again and receiving more infusions. Not just DNA, but hormones and other stuff. I tuned out. It doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t kill or maim me.
I signed on the line—I’ll do what they say.
I use the time to nap and to read on a tablet, buffing my language skills. It’s strange being able to read the Pfahrn language now, and to understand the spoken form of it. I can also read and understand Guyardien, Onyx, and Chel’ldar.
Jailmates Page 11
