Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 5)

So much to remember! Jimmy had never been the brightest fellow. He did well in school, but lacked focus on his studies. He’d always preferred sports and physical activity to sitting around and staring at books–or what everyone else seemed to call reading. When he’d talked to the recruiter, it had just made sense, right? But the memory was fuzzy, and the harder he tried to focus on it, more it seemed to warp. At first, he could remember the recuriter as a tall, handsome stud, the perfect soldier, exactly the kind of person Jimmy had always aspired to be–but was that right? He could remember something else. A stuffy room, a big man, reeking of sweat, stripping off his shirt, seeing how quickly Jimmy would fall under his spell…

The memory shifted then–it didn’t matter all that much, he had decided. He was here, at boot camp, where he was supposed to be. Where he had always wanted to be. He was eighteen, not very bright but diligent and appreciative of authority. He stepped off the bus with the other young recruits, most of them similar to him. Athletes, mostly football. Not particularly clever, but hard headed and plenty determined. They would all serve their…their country? 

He looked around, up at the flagpole, but it was empty–like a void in his memory. Who was he serving? What was he serving?

Jimmy thrashed a bit, in his sleep, perhaps realizing what had happened for a moment in some recess of his mind. He was sweating profusely, the smell more intense than his usual musk. It was starting already. The virus calmed him down, settled his body back into sleep–there was still so much to remember.

With the other recruits, he was filed through orientation. Their hair shaved down, their bunks assigned. They would see officers on occasion, and instructors, but there was something…wrong with them. Their uniforms were messy, if they bothered wearing something resembling a uniform at all. They were bulky, and obviously strong–but fat as well, big thick guts and chests and necks, all of them hairy as well. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, his mind said, but that was the way it had to be–it was the way he remembered it, right?  Eventually, they were lined up, and Drill Sergeant Maco strode up and down the line, stripped down to a pair of olive shorts and a sweat soaked undershirt, and this close to him, his musk was unlike anything he had ever smelled before (except for in that stuffy office, except for that man, that man he’d–served, no worshiped?)

Jimmy wasn’t the first one to give in–that was another recruit Jimmy had gotten to know by the name of Kingston. He snorted suddenly, and fell forward onto his hands and knees, drooling, crawling over to where Sergeant Maco was standing, nuzzling at the man’s crotch, obviously hungry for something. Without even addressing the rest of the young men, Maco opened his fly, and fed the eager recruit his cock. Jimmy was horrified, and couldn’t stop wondering if it might taste different from that…other man’s, wondering if it would taste better, or…

No, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t right!

Jimmy was thrashing again, trying to rebel, trying to force his way out of the dream. He was sweating more now, his clothes soaked through, his body thickening with muscle, remembering now how he had been when he’d been young, remembering how he’d stood in the hot sun, inches from the sergeant now, trying not to give in, trying to fight it as hard as he could, but he’d given in, hadn’t he? They all had, he could almost remember it, but maybe…maybe he hadn’t.

What happens next? You can choose two of the four options. Patrons can access the bonus poll over here as well!
Update: some people are having problem with the embedded poll! If this is you, go ahead and use this link–it should work over on the site.

Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 4)

Jimmy found his way to the new lab, still trying to shake off what he had seen in lab #76, when he’d arrived at his new home, now that his prior project was being reclassified. The massive blob, the sense that it had somehow been a person–it had to have been a person, right? And that other, smaller one, which was…more of a person, but no longer one entirely. The fact that he knew, right now, those things were being kept alive, and not being sent to the incinerator–it made him want to run screaming from the complex–but he knew, if he did, he’d be in violation of his NDA, and executed. Now he understood why security here was so tight–the science happening here…shouldn’t be happening here. But he was too deep now–what did it matter? He got to the new lab, entered, and found a researcher waiting for him, excited to give him the breakdown of what they were working on here, in lab #146. Jimmy hoped it would be more sane–but he was unsurprised to find this project just as ethically nightmarish as the last.

It had started as a simple question–could memories be converted into chemical form, such that they could be replicated, and spread between people? The answer, it turned out, was yes–though it has been years for the project to advance to this level, and the researcher skipped over, well, a good amount of history, and he was sure, a good amount of mistakes as well. This lab, he had noticed, was more tightly controlled than the last–though apparently the last one had not been controlled enough. Getting in was easy–of course, but getting out again required, well, he saw another researcher leave, after his shift, and it took a while–blood and sweat samples, questions about key memories, a thorough chemical scrub. The researcher told him, when he asked about it, that most of them slept in the bunks here, within the containment area–they only left when really necessary. 

The reason for such tight controls was this–building on some other work, they were able to discover the neurological sequencing of memories–how to build them, really. It was relatively easy, in fact–if you realigned some of the subjects neurons to the proper path, the subject would create a memory to match them on their own–with minimal effort required on the researcher’s part. But there were two wrinkles. First, the mind seemed…incapable of making a new memory without also warping the body itself–and the larger the memory, the more the body would warp. If you made someone believe that they had been a boxer in college, and they remembered losing a tooth, that tooth would fall out of their head–and they would be more muscular, and scar tissue would develop, and, and, and. No one understood how it happened–it should be impossible, but, well, it wasn’t. 

But the bigger problem was the fact that the only carrier they had managed to find to deliver these memories to the brain, was viral–a heavily warped virus that would force the neurons into their new alignment–but what that meant, was the state was…contagious. The individuals would become enslaved to the virus’ need to replicate and spread–and the body would change in a few key ways. This virus was…sexually transmitted, and so, the subject would become incredibly horny, and sexually flexible. The subject’s body would also emit a pheromone, which smelled like–in the words of those who had caught wind of it and escaped contamination–liquid sex. 

Jimmy found all of this, well, hard to believe. But the videos showing previous memory injections were, well, convincing. The researcher told him that, at this point, the study was two pronged. The most important part, was trying to reduce the virality of the injections, or at least find a way to reduce it and turn it off. If they could do that, the military and civilian options were obvious–a way to give a recruit boot camp in one shot, both mentally and physically. A way to rehabilitate prisoners and criminals in moments. But with the viral component lessened, the serum could also become a potent biological weapon, warping a whole cell of terrorists into something harmless over a matter of weeks.

So Jimmy was put to work. He decided to sleep in the lab, rather than deal with the trial of leaving the quarantine area. Mostly, he was working on trying to isolate the viral component of the virus, without rendering it less effective, but as with all things, violating the natural order of things, in was only so long before something went wrong–and that wrong thing, was this. Jimmy was in the storage vault. Here, all of the memories that had been sequenced were stored–some of them waiting to be tested, some of them from prior experiments, trying to understand how the serums even functioned. Even these old vials couldn’t be destroyed–it was worried that fire and incineration wouldn’t be able to deal with this virus–since nothing else seemed to destroy it easily. So here they were kept–and mostly well maintained, but one of them had been sealed inappropriately, and Jimmy had been lax with his PPE, and inhaled some of the serum on the air.

Injection was fastest, taking hold in minutes. Sexual intercorse required an hour or two. Inhalation also worked, but took six to eight hours to incubate. Jimmy continued his work, but began to feel a bit woozy–it was just about the end of his shift, though, and so he went into the bunk room to lay down for a rest. He was asleep almost immediately–and he dreamed–and the dream was so much more vivid than should have been possible…because it was a memory, too. He was in boot camp–that much he knew. He had been…recruited? Or had be volunteered? The memory was corrupted, and old, and there were so many gaps to fill, so many…things he needed to remember. What sort of memory does he recall?

Here’s the next poll! You get two choices. Patrons can find their bonus poll over here!

Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 2)

Todd had no idea what to expect, precisely. He knew that the research happening at Xigen Labs was cutting edge and wasn’t confined to one discipline, but not in his wildest dreams, could he image that he would witness something like this. The first day was devoted to onboarding with the study, signing a mountain of NDAs and liability waivers, and only then, towards the afternoon, did they get to sit down with one of the assistant researchers on the project, and learn what all of this study was about. It started with a basic rundown of genetics and evolution, some of the difficulties in studying evolving biology over generations, and then it descended into a who new set of science he had no background in. The assistant began talking about temporal vacuums, acceleration intervals–thankfully, Todd wasn’t the only one who was confused, and another intern finally raised their hand, timidly, asking the researcher to clarify what he was talking about.

It was hard to believe, but what the researchers were doing, somehow, was accelerating time–biologically–causing the beings in their study to age much more rapidly inside the field than they ever would outside of it. At last, it clicked for Todd–they were essentially brute-force hacking evolution. They would take embryos, bombard them with radiation designed to cause mutations, and then accelerate them. If the resulting sample was of interest to them for genetic research, it would be saved–and perhaps used for breeding. If it wasn’t…it would be accelerated towards its natural death in the temporal field. The interns were all silent, as they let that sink in–not only the nature of the science, but ethical quandary itself–but it wasn’t until they saw the subjects that they nearly all let out a gasp–the subjects of the study weren’t the usual mice or even monkeys–it was a human trial.

The researcher noted their surprise and shock with a rather disinterested look, and then kept talking, describing how the study had already found several promising advancements in medical gene therapies, that the subjects–due to the temporal field–rarely developed any real sense of self, and that the embryos they were using had all been slated to be destroyed anyway. Still, that wasn’t enough for some of them, and several interns asked to be dismissed and reassigned. The researcher reminded them all of the NDA, but allowed them to leave–until only Todd and two other interns remained, and the researcher smiled for the first time. “We only needed three anyway,” he said with a laugh, and continued the tour. They saw the temporal field in action, watched infants become children become adults in a matter of moments, the researchers investigating the resulting mature specimens for any interesting mutations, before sending them back into the field to age, and die.

Todd just watched it–fascinated. He’d had no idea something like this was even possible. This was science without limits; who knew what we were capable of doing down here? After that, they moved into what the researcher called “the menagerie”. The cells lining the walls were full of the most promising subjects whose mutations were most likely to yield further developments. Some of them had spawned entire new research projects themselves. Ethical quandaries aside–the possibilities were impressive. At the end of the afternoon, the three interns, Todd included, were assigned to different aspects of the project, and got to work. Things proceeded well for a few days–until something went wrong. It started with subject 86-X9.

86-X9 was a marvel of the program, a genetic jackpot. Human in appearance, his mind was capable of processing massive amounts of data in a relatively short time. The temporal field didn’t accelerate cognition–so most of the subjects never developed a mind beyond that of an infant, but 86-X9 was different. Within hours, he had begun to understand English, and could speak it by the next day. Within a week, he had learned ten languages. He was most likely smarter than the entire staff put together, and posed real danger, and so was kept isolated and confined in the deepest part of the lab. But 86-X9 was only beginning to understand his own powers, and it was on this day, that he decided to give them a test drive.

Todd heard the voice in his head, and at first, assumed it was his own. The work he had been assigned was relatively boring–sorting out data from the temporal field for research into physics–but the louder it got in his mind…the more he was certain that something was trying to talk to him. Something…wanted him to go somewhere, but where? Deeper into the lab, he realized, into the menagerie…but deeper. He knew he shouldn’t–he didn’t have authorization–but the voice…was insistent. He stole a key card at the end of the day, slipped inside, and then deeper, into the vault–where he found 86-X9. He looked like a normal person, sitting in a small cell, but Todd knew he was different. Important. The most important. This close, the voice in his mind was so loud, that it was all he could hear–his own mind was shutting down, and 86-X9’s will was all that mattered. Still, this would for, for 86-X9’s escape plan, he hoped–he was going to be taking Todd’s place, and Todd, in turn, was going to be entering the menagerie as a subject.

86-X9 and Todd went to the radiation chamber. 86-X9 would have an easy enough job warping the minds around him to believe he had been Todd all along, and with access to the intern’d mind, he knew all of his deepest secrets. The problem was that there had to be a subject take his place–and for that, Todd was going to have to change. He stepped into the radiation chamber, and 86-X9 bombarded him with a sufficient amount to trigger mutations, and then led Todd to the temporal field–give his body an additional 20 years, and the mutations would develop just fine. What sort of mutations does Todd get?

Alright, the public poll is below, as usual, and your patreon poll is through here! Remember, you get three choices!

Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 1)

“Welcome to Xigen Labs, Todd. This compound is going to be your home for the next six months,” Kathy said, “As you know, the research we are conducting here is of the most sensitive nature. Only a select few students ever see the inside of this facility, where we conduct some of our most cutting edge research into the future of humanity. This is the sort of internship which can open all sorts of doors for you, as long as you perform well.”

The speech sounded a bit canned to Todd, who was more interested in trying to sort out what was happening in the labs he was passing by, but most of the windows were heavily tinted–most likely to avoid the exact thing he was trying to do. Xigen was one of the largest corporations in the world, and it seemed to have its fingers in everything. The founders advancements in geo-engineering were already looking to halt climate change within ten years, and perhaps even reverse it by the end of the century–but that hadn’t been enough for Doctor William Markos. Soon Xigen was on just about everything, and anyone who was anyone in scientific research, no matter the discipline, was sucked up into one of Markos’ labs or think tanks, like this one. “So when will I get to meet Dr. Markos?” Todd asked.

The administrator ignored his question, and continued with her introduction. “You will be staying with the other interns at this facility, and all of you will be shared by the various researchers in this compound. If a researcher feels like you are a good match to his study, you will likely be assigned to him permanently, and will then bunk with that research team. This is generally what happens over the course of your time here. As promised, Dr. Markos meets at least once with each intern over the course of the summer, but it isn’t clear on his schedule when he will be visiting this facility.”

They continued walking, and she continued talking about the various aspects of the facility, showing him to the cafeteria, recreational areas, and finally, to the bunk room for interns. It was…larger than Todd expected it to be, probably the size of half a football field, and filled with bunk beds–it looked more like a military barracks, than lodging at one of the most prestigious and cutting edge research centers in the world. There were a substantial number of other people there–all of them men, all around his same age. The administrator mentioned that the women’s internship quarters were nearby–and he realized that this must only be half of them, in all. How exclusive could this internship really be, if there were going to be hundreds of them here? The woman showed him to his bunk, his excitement at being such a select candidate dissipating a bit, and then she left–likely to introduce another candidate to the same speech.

Looking around, as he unpacked, everyone had the same dour look of slight disappointment on their face, but as they began talking, they soon realized that their pedigrees were all similarly impressive. Most of them had published research of their own by this point, in a variety of fields. Todd ever recognized several other men there from various conferences he’d attended, both as an undergraduate, and as a graduate student. The first day of work was set for tomorrow, so they spent their time in the cafeteria, getting dinner, and then in the recreational areas, before going to bed for the evening–every bunk full. Lying there, he felt more like a sardine, or a lab rat, than a member of an exclusive research internship. Hopefully that would change tomorrow, when he received his first assignment.

It was after breakfast, and the interns were all brought to a single, massive room, where they were to receive their first–and possibly only–assignments. There were a number of tables, sorted alphabetically, and Todd got in his line, and received his assignment–Lab #76, whatever that meant. He was given directions, told not to worry about bringing anything but himself–the lab had all of the necessary equipment already–and so he followed the swarm of other interns who had also gotten their assignment, and headed for the labs.

Lab #76 was buried pretty deep in the complex, and so by the time he got there, there were few people still walking with him. He used his keycard on the door, and it slid open for him–inside, he saw a couple of researchers in coats–most likely assistants, and three other interns dressed like him–all waiting for an explanation. The assistants told him there were five interns in all, and so they waited for the fifth, when they would be briefed on the research they would be conducting. At last, the fifth arrived–and the assistants started their explanation of the project.

Alright, so here’s how this interactive is going to work! The interns at this facility don’t realize that they are, essentially, cannon fodder for some of the strangest experiments that Xigen labs are conducting. As such, not all of them will stay as interns–more than a few will likely end up as test subjects! Only the best, brightest, and cleverest will make it through the six months, and have the opportunity to become researchers themselves. Below are a selection of key words–choose the ones that interest you, and I’ll combine the ones that people like into a “research study”, and we’ll see how Todd does. He may or may not come out of it unscathed–if not, we’ll follow another intern instead! I’d like to work through a few different studies, until it feels a bit stale. Below is the public poll, and the bonus Patreon poll can be found over here!

Winston’s Stable: Titpig (Part 3)

Winston double checked the monitors to confirm that Mark was unconscious–he still had a hard time believing that the match was so successful, that he’d fallen asleep so deeply with just a command. The few subjects he’d found before, they usually required at least a sedative, but Mark was by far the best match he’d ever seen. He went ahead and placed the anesthesia mask over his face, just to make sure he stayed out once he started the procedures he was planning, but first he had to wait and for some of his initial tests to finish.

He looked over the naked man’s frame again and felt his cock stiffening in his leathers. He hadn’t bothered changing after arriving home with his catch–he was much too excited to get underway. Instead, he’d led the young man down into the basement, strapped him in, and taken the first samples of blood, along with a basic health assessment. The young man was relaxing into the pheromones nicely, and adapting to them well. The initial grogginess had passed at this point, and he no longer seemed particularly troubled that he obeyed Winston’s orders without question. He stroked the boy’s cheek with one gloved hand, and saw his cock throb, and smiled. Even asleep, he knew what he needed. Still, after searching for so long for a proper match, it was thrilling to imagine one had fallen into his lap like this. Winston contained his excitement–the pheromone could signal a match, but false positives had happened before. The results came up a few minutes later, and he gave a sigh of relief, and a laugh. 97.8 percent–nearly perfect.

Winston might be a fetish freak by night, but by day he was much, much more than that. He was a medical researcher renowned for his work on genetics, but most of his research was conducted…under the table. Winston had longed for something his entire life, a proper slave to match his deepest fantasies, and now, with Mark here, it was finally within reach. He walked over to the cooler where he stored his various genetic serums and tests, groping his crotch as he did. All he’d ever needed was one. With one as a carrier, he could do so much more. He pulled out the first stage of the prime serum, and added it to Mark’s drip, watching the green liquid slide into his vein.

A 97.8 percent chance. Winston held his breath as the sleeping Mark laid there for a few moments. If his body rejected the serum, he’d be sick for a few days, but suffer no lasting effects. Winston, disappointed, would send him on his way with no memory of what happened. Still, if it worked, he should see some of the effects take hold in the first few minutes. He forced himself to leave the basement, set a timer on his phone for ten minutes, and paced around the floor of his immaculate house, stopping only to take a cigar from his humidor and light it for himself. The timer went off, and he returned to the basement, bracing himself for failure.

He let out a sigh of relief–it was working! The changes were small, but they were there, most visible in the chest, of course, where the most development would take place. It was clear that Mark had spent quite a bit of time developing his chest, but in a matter of minutes they had grown swollen and inflamed, his breath quickening. Winston pulled off a glove and touched the surface gently, feeling the heat of new developing tissue, his other hand unzipping the fly of his pants in order to free his cock, stroking it slowly.

“You’re going to be beautiful, more beautiful than you can even fucking imagine, Titpig,” Winston said over the sleeping Mark. He…shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. He went down the the foot of the table where Mark was lying, started pulling him down, his legs up in the air and resting on Winston’s shoulders until his ass was at the edge, and he rubbed the wet head of his cock against his hole. “I wish you were awake for this, I really do, but fuck, I can’t fucking wait, you fucking freak,” he said, drooling a bit of spit into his hand, which he rubbed on his head and shaft. He slid into Mark’s hole as gently as he could, his eyes glued to Mark’s pecs, watching them turn redder and swell larger as he fucked him. Winston didn’t last long–he pushed in deep and came inside Mark’s hole, and then pulled out, carefully returning him to his prior position on the table before cleaning off his cock.

He wanted him to know so badly, he wanted him to see himself–but he could wait. He wanted Mark to understand what was happening to him, before it was finished, he wanted to see the terror on his face dissolve into pleasure as his master used him. Still, it would be a week or so before that–he wanted to wait until the third stage was finished. But soon, Mark would see for himself. He’d see what he was really meant to be.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 1 & 2)

Missed my post yesterday, so here’s a double post to start the next story off! I’ve been giggling about this strange idea for a week now, so I hope you all enjoy it.

The two of them had been cruising each other for a few weeks at this point, ever since the cub had started showing up at the gym at the same time as Jules worked out after work. Jules was in his late forties, and while he wasn’t a muscle bear by any extent (though he did still harbour a desire to be one, maybe) he was in good, thick shape. No gut, but a solid belly, firm pecs, nice arms with a bit of tone–he liked to think he was a pretty sexy daddy, especially with his salt and pepper beard. Certainly the cub thought so–the younger guy had been staring Jules down ever since the first day he’d noticed him. At first, Jules had been rather embarrassed that someone was cruising him so blatantly, and the gym where they were was rather boutique–hardly the place where one would expect to hook up. The younger cub didn’t really seem like the usual client, but he afforded the pricy membership fee somehow, right? Maybe he had a trust fund, or he worked for one of the various tech startups booming at the moment. He looked more like the later–with his laid back attire, piercings and tattoos. Still, even though Jules was a straight laced professional by day…he’d always had a weakness for young rebels like that. So, after a few days of avoiding him, he–tentatively–began staring back. It was actually rather fun, and it was clear both of them were getting a bit turned on, even in the middle of the floor. Still, Jules was more of a looker and not a toucher, and the cub seemed to be too–so he was mildly surprised when the cub surprised him in the locker room, wearing nothing but his jockstrap.

Jules shook his hand, and realized a few seconds too late he’d been captivated by the ample bulge in the jock’s pouch. Whatever the guy was packing, it was massive–large enough for him to notice the odd bulge of a ring–likely a PA in the head. Kinky indeed. They chatted a bit, Jules got his name–Ari–the cub inching closer, both of them enjoying each other’s post-workout musk, but it wasn’t until a second meeting that Jules suggested they meet outside of the gym.

“Well, my schedule is pretty tight, with all of the product development I’m engaged in,” Ari said, obviously playing coy.

“Oh? What are you working on?”

“It’s a startup, but I don’t like talking about it in public–still rather under wraps. Still, I think you might find it interesting–maybe I’ll show you something if you come over to my place–how about tomorrow, after a workout?”

“I’m not a VC, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Oh no, if you were, I’d have to show up in a suit with my piercings out.”

After a chuckle, Jules agreed to the suggestion, and the next day, after their workouts, they walked the short distance to Ari’s apartment.

Or, what Jules had expected to be an apartment, probably with a roommate or two who’d have to listen to them fuck awkwardly. No, where Ari took him was a condo–a new condo, in one of the buildings that was actually out of Jules’ price range. “Must be rolling in some good seed money, if you’re getting put up here.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely got it’s benefits I’d say. Still, gotta keep chasing the money, you know? It’s amazing how fast you can burn through it when you get into a project.”

“I’m not sure how you start up guys do it–all that stress.”

“It’s not a big deal, as long as you know how to have fun on occasion,” Ari said, and gave Jule’s ass a slap. It surprised and unnerved him a bit, but hey, the cub knew what he wanted. Down a short hall, they entered Ari’s condo, and while it was minimally decorated and quite messy, the view of the city was wonderful. “Care for a drink?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure,” Jules said, and walked to the window, looking down at the people milling about, and towards the bay in the distance. “So, what exactly is your startup? You never did say.”

“Why don’t we hold off on that for now–let’s just say I like to mix my business with my pleasure. Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Where did you say you worked again?”

The two of them made idle chat on the couch for a few minutes, drinking their beers, hands idly exploring one another’s bodies, the conversation slowing as hands slipped down into pants, and they started making out instead. “Ready for that business and pleasure yet?” Jules asked.

“I think we can get started,” Ari replied, pulled Jules up, and led him down the hall and into a large spacious room, which made the older man’s jaw drop even further than the view had. What in the hell was this place? In the middle of the room was a massive, king sized bed, and two walls, facing the door and to the left, were mirrored, but to his right–from the floor up to the ceiling were racks filled with dildos, all of them carefully organized and arranged, in all sorts of shapes and sizes, colors and textures. “Welcome, to the headquarters of Asslickers Incorporated,” Ari said, “what I like to call artisanal dildo fabrication. What do you think?”

Jules felt a bit weak at the knees. He took a step forward, and nearly collapsed to the carpet, but Ari caught him, and helped him over to the bed, “Fuck, I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” Jules said, his words slurred slightly.

“Yeah, muscle relaxers tend to do that. Still, you won’t have to move much–you’re here to help me out with product testing, after all. I just finished a few new models, and I’d love to see what you think of them. Now let’s get you out of those clothes, and get that hole of yours opened up, eh?”

Ari took a few minutes to get Jules into position on the bed, with the help of a triangle shaped prop under his abdomen, forcing his ass into the air, and his face into the mattress. He kept trying to make his body move, but the best he could do was flop his arm slightly, and uselessly. The rest of his body was completely inert, but his mind was still in good shape, and the numbness in his mouth had subsided, allowing him to speak with less trouble. “I don’t…why the fuck did you drug me? You could have just fucking asked me to help you out! I’m not much of a bottom, but I’d be willing to give it a shot.”

Ari was over at the wall of dildos–Jules could see him reflected in the mirror. He’d stripped both of them of their clothes, but he’d pulled on a pair of heavy duty rubber gloves which extended to his elbow, before climbing up a stool to look at his collection of dildos and decide what he’d like to test. “Oh, trust me–it’s much, much easier this way. See, my products offer…some rather special effects, which make quite a few people reluctant to try them, unless they have some particular interests. Some of the less popular ones, well, bringing men like you here is the simplest way to see how well they work.”

“Special effects?”

“Oh yes, rather impressive feats. I even have a company interested in a substantial investment, provided I could produce products aligned with their particular clientele. Not my ideal…but they were rather persuasive…” he said, one gloved hand fiddling with the ring in his nose. Still, the kinks have all been worked out for the most part, so you can feel some relief on that measure–you won’t be leaving a monster or anything, not like some of my earlier tests!”

If that was supposed to ease Jules’ worries, it didn’t work at all. Instead, he redoubled his efforts to move, but had even less success than before, as the drug paralyzed his body further.

“Now, first things first, let’s get you lubed up, and then we’ll start you off with a Pelt Pounder, I think. I want to see if I’ve got the dosage a little better in this batch,” Ari said. He returned to the bed, holding a modestly sized dildo, about six inches long and average in girth. It was colored a brownish red, and the entire surface…it looked almost hairy. When he got a closer look, he saw that the look was achieved by hundreds of small rubber hairs that covered the dildo, making it appear almost shaggy. He would have been impressed, but little could cut through his state of terror. He tried to console himself with the fact that it was no larger than the dildo he had at home for himself, when he felt so inclined, but it didn’t ease his worries much, as Ari scooped a substantial amount of lube into his gloved hand, and began worming most of his fingers into Jules’ ass. The muscle relaxers were working wonders back there as well, and Ari met almost no resistance. Still, he brought in a basin and gave Jules several enemas, until he ran clean, and then determined they were ready to proceed.

Jules had never been much of a bottom, for a few reasons. First, though he’d never admit this, he held a deep suspicion that being fucked somehow robbed him of authority. He’d never managed to articulate this to any of his sexual partners, but it was a reason why many of his attempted relationships had crumbled after a few years. The second reason, however, was that the few times he’d tried it, he’d never really gotten much pleasure from it. That said, his few tries were with rather unskilled tops–had he perhaps had a more enlightening experience when he was younger, it would have done much to improve his relationships. That said, when the dildo slid into him, he didn’t expect to feel much, and was instead quite surprised at how…enjoyable the sensation was. It was almost like he was being tickled on the inside–like if getting a hair caught in your throat could somehow feel pleasurable. But the stranger sensation came when the dildo was almost completely inside him–his tastebuds lit up in his mouth, and he could…taste the dildo, somehow. It matched the color somewhat, like a chocolate covered strawberry, but with the strange burst of wet dog on occasion that made him gag, catching Ari’s attention.

“What’s wrong, how does it taste?”

“Like a…chocolate strawberry? But sometimes it just tastes like wet hair.”

“Gah, it’s been so hard getting rid of that! Maybe I should just embrace it? No, that’s ridiculous…hmmm…”

“I don’t…how in the world can I taste this thing?”

“It’s an asslicker. My own invention–the first line of candy dildos..and each one holds a special surprise as well.”


“Heh, you’ll have to lick it for a bit–shall we find out how many thrusts it takes to get to the center of an asslicker? I love that slogan, but the legal department tells me it’s too similar to the original to get past copyright.”

The taste was intensifying, as Ari thrust the dildo in and out, and the sweetness melded with the wet hair into something quite unappealing, making him feel a bit nauseous. He was thankfully distracted by a new sensation–an odd tickling, this time on the outside of his body, all over his skin. His head was turned towards the mirror, and it wasn’t too long before he noticed something odd about his beard–it was longer. His usually short hair was growing as well, and even the hair on his body was growing in thicker. At first, he thought it was just the light, but there was something odd happening to the color of his hair as well. It had always been a very deep brown, almost black, but it was lightning, and soon matched the color of the dildo in his ass–a dark, burnt red. It was…actually quite sexy, especially with the white hair that remained behind. Still, the hair was growing in…surprisingly thick at this point–too thick even. “Uh…is it…supposed to be this thick?” he asked, “Wait, how the fuck is this even happening right now! Hair doesn’t just grow like this!”

“Heh, you’d be surprised what a bit of biology can do these days. And no, it’s still too thick I think, so I still haven’t got the dosage quite worked out for these. Maybe I should just sell them as a two pack of butt plugs. Two for you, or share with your buddy! I like that, actually…”

“You sound so fucking easy going about this, but I look like a yeti!”

“Well, you are a guinea pig…”

“Fuck you–when I get out of here, you’re going to be ruined, you do realize that, right? I have fucking powerful friends–you’re going to jail for the rest of your life, and we’ll see how many asses you lick in there.”

Ari just ignored the threat, and pulled out the dildo–or rather, the plastic stick that remained of the dildo. He hadn’t really been paying attention, but the dildo had dissolved inside of him. He stared at himself in disbelief, as Ari set aside the stick to be cleaned and reused, went back to the wall, and pondered which dildo to use for testing next.

Medical Trials (Part 3)

He knew he should be more shocked than this. He tried, as hard as he could, to make himself *feel* shock. To convince himself that because things like this didn’t usually happen to bodies, what he should be registering is shock, alarm, fear, terror, but beyond a general sense of unease, Evan mostly just…looked at himself, like he’d appraise an object. As something he didn’t have much attachment to, emotionally.

Before becoming a police officer, Evan had served in the army, serving two tours in Iraq. He’d never really enjoyed his time in the army, but he had always appreciated the routine it had instilled in him. As a teenager, he’d been a bit of a troublemaker, and he appreciated the fact that the military had helped him get past that. He’d kept up his exercise and diet even after leaving the army, moving through a few jobs before he ended up in law enforcement. He’d always been told, by the various women he’d dated, that he had a strong jaw, and a stronger body, with a six inch cock he knew how to use. Beyond his muscled frame, he was moderately hairy, with more than a few tattoos he’d picked up with his army buddies.

Looking down at himself now, however, it was clear this drug–whatever it was–had already ruined him, substantially. It was the gut which disturbed him the most. It made sense, to some extent, given how much cum he’d eaten, and how full he’d felt each time. The skin was paler though, and even the stretchmarks from such rapid growth were a mild pink where they should have been violently red. He ran his hands over the surface, feeling how soft and flabby it was, and noticed that his body hair was less thick than it had been, and appeared lighter than before. He’d always kept his face clean shaven, but brushing a hand over his face, he couldn’t even feel stubble there, and even the hair on his head seemed too fine, and thinner than it had been before.

Everywhere, he’d lost muscle and replaced it with fat. He felt weak and tired, lifting his arms was tiring, and he could see several of his tattoos looked like they were fading away somehow. His skin was smooth and pale–he couldn’t have been in here long enough to lose his tan, but he looked like someone who never went outside. He’d forgotten about his cock, in all of this. He…didn’t really want to think about it, or feel it. The pain and agony of the sessions had made him slightly afraid to touch it, but he did, eventually. It was swollen and red, but also smaller–only about three inches, and his balls had shrunk quite a bit as well, each the size of a large grape. Touching himself for the first time in…days?…weeks?…he felt nothing, beyond a vague sickness in his gut, and he pulled his hand away, happy to just let the calm wash over him. Though he would feel better, if he had some cum to eat–but it wasn’t worth the pain.

He was in a room similar to the one with the chair–the same white walls, the same mirror, the same door–but this one had a small bed, a simple chair and small table, a sink and a toilet. More like a prison cell, which wasn’t exactly much of an improvement. He heard a buzz, and the door unlocked. A man stepped into the room, dressed in a well tailored suit. Evan couldn’t recall his name in the haze, but he remembered interviewing him about Trinq’s missing employees. A vice president of…research and development? He wasn’t sure, but he had a disarming smile, not that Evan cared that much. Of all the questions he wanted to ask:–“What am I doing here?” or “What have you done to me?”–the one that feel out of his mouth was, “Can…can I have some cum?”

It was the first time he’d heard his voice unmuffled in all this time, and it was higher, thinner, than it had been.

“Ah, straight to pleasure, detective? No time for business?”

“I’m just…hungry, is all.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are. We’ll get to that, don’t worry. Still, I’m mostly here to check on your progress, in our Calmura trials. Are you enjoying them? We’re working with some private prisons to develop new systems of inmate management, though we’re still trying to work out some of the side effects. Still, in your case, I don’t see anything wrong, do you? Do you like some of the changes? How do you feel?”

“I…” Evan started to say, but he didn’t know how to talk about his feelings. After a moment of silence, he just shrugged. “I don’t…like it. I think.”

“Not sure?”

“Just don’t feel much of anything, really.”

The man sighed, “I was worried seven doses would take too much fight out of you–this would have been more fun after four or five. Oh well, next time, I suppose.” The man pulled a vial and a needle out of his pocket and set them on the table. Even in the dull world his eyes were registering, he recognized the blue in the jar.

“I don’t…want any more.”

“No?” the man said, smiling. “How about we make a deal. You inject yourself with the next dose of Calmura, and I let you suck my cock. You did say you were hungry, right? Still, if you don’t want anymore, you can leave–all you have to do is walk out that door–it’s still unlocked.”

Even before he’d worked out the logic, he was sitting in the chair, readying his next dose. It was simple really. He loved cum. He needed it. If someone offered him cum, he’d do anything to get it. The man was a bit disappointed to see how well the subject had responded, the police officer finding a vein and injecting himself without any apparent reservations, and he set the needle down. “Can I suck you off now?”

The man shrugged, and pulled his cock out of his suit pants, Evan getting down in front of him and sucking, hard, eager to get his next dose of cum. Still, he wasn’t very experienced, and eventually he just let the man fuck his throat roughly, until he came, and he swallowed all of his cum down, feeling…better. It would hurt, cumming again, but this had been worth it. Cum was worth anything. Cum was priceless.

The man just shook his head, and set a beaker down on the table. “There’s probably not much left in those balls of yours, but that will give you a snack for later, right?”

He left the room, and watched Evan position the beaker under his cock, the first orgasm building, and he shot into the glass, over and over again. “Well, that was so successful, I’m almost disappointed,” he said to the scientists observing Evan, “When will he be finished?”

“Another few weeks, at least. We’ll begin his final stage of programming today, once he finishes the ejaculation phase.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

“Yes sir.”

Medical Trials (Part 2)

The feeling of calm indifference only lasted for about half an hour–but the tank had only been drained by about a third, when he felt like he was finally free of whatever strange mental state that drug had left him in. As disconcerting as it had been, he actually missed it in a sense, as he kept swallowing his own seed, desperate to not drown on his own spunk, his gut aching, because at least for that short window of time, he had genuinely enjoyed this. The speakers in his mask continued to repeat the message, however, about once a minute, and the repetition wore on him, and he fought it for a while. Now however, he was sobbing, about an inch of cum remaining in the tank, his gut feeling like it would burst at any moment. He’d gagged a few times, spewing cum out his nose, where it ran down the outside of his mask and dripped onto his chest and swollen gut. He let out a cry of relief when the flow eased up, and the tank was dropped back down to the floor, out of sight. The machine beside him administered something else to him, and he feared he’d see that ame blue liquid, as before, but all he felt, after a moment, was pleasantly floaty, and he fell asleep in the chair.

When he woke up, he was once again in the chair, though his gut didn’t ache as bad as it had, and he felt less stiff, like he’d been out of the chair for a bit, while he was asleep, and then returned to the same position. He tried to beg and plead through the mask attached to him, but he saw the drip once more turn blue, and he fought harder against his bonds. Fifteen minutes later, the first orgasm ripped through him, and he just focused on his mind, on maintaining his focus, but he was broken, sobbing and whimpering after an hour, and after two, when his cock was merely spasming weakly, the fact that the mask was pulling his head back to the chair was the only thing keeping his head upright. Once more, the tank was raised up to the ceiling, and the flow began again. The world was dull, meaningless, aside from a slight bright spot. The tank. He…enjoyed cum. He could remember that, somewhat, but little else.

“You love the taste of cum, officer Timmons.”

The tank grew brighter in his focus, and once the flow began, he drank it down hungrily. He drank, and the messages continued, though with greater variation than the last time.

“You crave cum, Officer Timmons.”

“If a man offers you his cum, you will do anything he demands of you to obtain it.”

“Cum is priceless, you will never have enough of it.”

The dullness lasted longer than it had the first time, and was more difficult to shake off. Or was it just that the tank hadn’t been as full as it had been the first time? He wasn’t sure, everything felt like a blur. He pushed the sensation away as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a more lasting effect this time, a…craving for more. The taste of cum lingered in his mouth, and he didn’t want it to fade. His gut ached, but surely he could fit in another load or two, right? Oh fuck, what in the world was he thinking? It was a relief when the tranquilizer flooded his system again, and sent him to sleep, it was easier than trying to understand what was going on with his mind.

He was forced to endure five more sessions like this. He would wake up in the chair, once again. As soon as he was awake, the strange drug would be administered. He would cum, violently and repeatedly, for several hours, after which he would ingest every drop of cum he’d just expelled. The voice would repeat in his mind, and he was no longer certain whether everything he thought was his or not. One thing he did know, as the sessions wore on, was that, more and more, he looked forward to eating the cum. He could…survive the onslaught of orgasms (though they had become so painful, he was certain that if he ever left this lab alive, he would never cum, or have sex, ever again) so long as, when they were over, he could eat the cum. He loved cum, after all. That much he knew for sure. They wouldn’t be able to take that away from him, that was just…just who he was, right?

It was difficult to compare from session to session, but Evan thought that he was orgasming less and less each time. Certainly the cum he was fed wasn’t enough to sate his desire, and the tank never looked as full as it had that first time. He also wasn’t sure…but his body felt different, somehow. Of course, he hadn’t been able to see his body since waking up in the room, with his head pulled tight against the back of the chair, but he…sensed something was wrong, or at the very least, different than it had been. Most worrisome, however, was that the world really was beginning to lose some of it’s color, even after the drug had worn off. It was hard to care about anything beyond drinking more cum. He felt dull…but even stranger, he felt calm. Relaxed and at ease. Rationally, he knew that what was being done to him was terrifying, but the emotion attached to the thought was losing force. Every emotion was losing force. He’d think of his girlfriend naked, but only received a dull throb of arousal and love, nothing like he could remember feeling.

And so, when he woke up after that seventh session, and he wasn’t strapped to the chair, he didn’t really know what to feel. Or rather, he knew what he should be feeling–relief, happiness, anticipation–and all of those things were there to some extent, but mostly he just felt…calm, as he looked down at himself, and saw for the first time what the drug had done to his body.

Medical Trials (Part 1)

Evan looked around at the desks around him, all of which had emptied out my now, leaving him alone in the precinct, chasing his own tail on this investigation into several men over the last few months. There was no real connection between any of them–not age, neighborhood, habits…well, except for one. Every single one of the men was employed at a massive health conglomerate in the business district, Trinq Incorporated. The company was trying to claim that all of the disappearances were all likely to have been done by one of their chief, international competitors–and initially, that’s what had seemed like the most likely possibility. Now though, he wasn’t so sure. The evidence the company had provided had just enough holes to make it look reasonable, but also impossible to prosecute, and in two of the cases, he’d found evidence that the men in question had actually been preparing to blow the whistle on what was looking like some serious ethical issues in Trinq’s R&D department. But as soon as he’d started asking questions along those lines, the company had started stonewalling him. His boss was pressuring him to close the file as a cold case if necessary, but Evan’s detective instincts were telling him he was on the cusp of something big.

He heard the elevator ding, and assumed it was just the janitor, coming up to clean the floor. He didn’t have time to react when the two massive men attacked him, one of them holding a rag soaked in chloroform to his nose. He fought as hard as he could, trying to reach his sidearm, but he was out before he could do anything to fight back, and the two men carried him down to the basement parking garage, threw him in the back of a van marked with Trinq Incorporated’s logo, and drove off through the city, arriving at an unmarked office building, and disappearing inside.

He was trying to scream, but all he could manage was a muffled cry, with the strange tube shoved in his mouth, and held in place by the mask secured around his head and neck, holding it immobile. The only things exposed were his eyes, allowing him a limited survey of the room–white tiled wall straight ahead and to the right, a white door in that corner, and to the left, a wall with a large mirror. In his experience, he figured it was likely one way. Where in the hell was he? The last thing he could remember was sitting at his desk, and then everything else was a blurry haze. Had someone kidnapped him? He didn’t know if it was Trinq or some foreign company, but he was willing to bet he’d stumbled on a hornet’s nest, and hadn’t been smart enough to know it.

The rest of his body was immobilized as well, and all of his clothes had been removed, leaving him naked, though there was something on his cock, or perhaps more precise, inside it–a tube, almost like a catheter, though he couldn’t see where the tube led outside his range of vision. In his arm was an IV, and some sort of complex machinery which was pumping something into him–probably saline–though he had a feeling that he’d be subjected to something else before too long. Sure enough, now that he was awake, he heard the machine whirring to life, and a blue liquid was added to his drip. All he could do, was try to scream and struggle against his bonds as the drug–whatever it might me–slipped down the line and disappeared into his arm.

For what felt like a long time, but which in reality was likely only fifteen minutes or so, nothing happened, beyond Evan panicking and hyperventilating. Then, without any warning at all, he felt his cock stiffen all on it’s own accord in a matter of seconds, and a massive orgasm ripped through him, leaving him shuddering and shaking in the chair, and he only had a few moments to heave for breath through his nose, before a second orgasm, even longer and more intense, followed right on the first’s heels.

He had no idea how long it lasted–he quickly lost count of how many orgasms he suffered through in rapid succession. At first, it was pleasurable, but the euphoria dulled away, and soon every shot of cum was simply excruciatingly painful. It felt like his balls were being crushed in a vice, milked endlessly–and somehow, every time, more cum came out of him. He’d heard somewhere, that after a relatively small number of loads, a guy would just begin shooting dry, but not him–he could see his cum flowing through the tube lodged in his cock, flowing to some unknown destination below him.

After an hour of this, the time between orgasms began to lengthen again, and he did indeed begin to shoot dry–which hurt even more, somehow. His balls were throbbing, his cock felt like it was on fire, but after the intensity of the experience, those sensations felt so distant, and as the last few orgasms shook through him, what Evan actually felt was a surprising sense of calm. Or more than just calmness, also…indifferent. Like the world had emptied of meaning somehow, or he’d simply lost the capacity to grapple with things going on around him. And as the tension left his body, he saw something rising up from below him–a massive tank, full of at least four liters of his own cum. At the top of the tank, which was being slowly raised up into the air, was the end of the tube attached to his cock, and at the bottom, the end of the tube leading back to his mouth.

“Officer Evan Timmons, you will eat all of your own cum. You will enjoy it.”

The words came through speakers in the mask itself, and they lit up the grey, featureless world around him, broke through his indifference, and he found himself focused on the command, as the tank began to empty down the tube, and into his mouth.

Caption Day – 1 of 2

In the end, it had been easier than I’d thought to get the nanobots into Mac and his two chubby sons, Eric and Kyle. A good dose in their family pool took care of the two boys while they were swimming one afternoon, and Mac was more than happy to take a beer from me that same day while we chatted across the fence. And now–well, now I get to have all the fun I want with the three of them.

All of them know something wrong, but none of them can quite articulate what exactly. Besides, who would they tell? It’s not like Mac can tell the police that sometimes when he’s with his sons, he becomes uncontrollably horny and rapes whatever hole he can stick his cock in the fastest. Sometimes, they even seem to want it more than he does, jacking off in the open, Kyle pinning him down while Eric sucks his cock. And his sons seem to spend more time fucking each other than anything else anymore, and sometimes Mac will just sit and watch, milking himself to orgasm after orgasm, over and over again.

But this last week, well, this has just been me testing what the bots can do–I haven’t even introduced them to me yet. I think that will happen tonight. I’ll go over, and all three of them won’t be able to help themselves–but we have plenty of time, they can spend all night worshiping my body. By morning, I’m sure all three of them will be more than willing to call me Master, and do anything I say, like proper bear sluts.

Still, emotions are easy–thoughts take a bit longer to embed in my three subjects. Still, I’ve been wearing them down. All three of them have already become complete nudists at home, without even being consciously aware of it. Mac went and got his first tattoo yesterday, a bear paw colored like the bear flag across his ass, without even questioning it, and he’s going to be getting quite a few more in the weeks to come, I can tell you that. In a few months, the whole family will be sponsoring orgies off of Craigslist, and then all of my friends will have access to every one of their kinky holes. Anyway, I’d better get going before it gets totally dark–I have a long night ahead of me after all, and I can’t wait to get started.