Author's Note: This is a slow, involved buildup, mentally and physically, but it is a 100% self-contained story. There are some obvious break points, but I wanted to give you guys all of it at once 'cause you're worth it.
Part 1: Descent
The sun was setting behind the buildings already in the crisp February air. It shouldn't be. I was late. Three hours late. All I had was a street and a number, but that's not why I was late.
I had to psyche myself up to come. It took forever. I thought putting on my shirt "I ❤️ 🐓" might help, but I just took it off. And put it back on. Covered with a jacket. The subway ride, I kept glancing around. Did he know? Did she? Did that guy want to know? Once I was done, would he want to use me?
I had to walk down the street like a fucking teen down a school hallway, covering my dick with my jacket, hands thrust through the pockets. I was rock hard. I should've worn a cock cage, but they said just normal clothes. As one hand kept my jacket down over my cock, my other hand played with the small black card. No logo, no text, no numbers, no design. A black card.
Jim handed it to me two nights ago, when I'd finally gone through enough Angels Envy to confess I was a bottom in theory only. I'd never told anyone before. I was too tight. I'd tried training kits that start at a highlighter thickness and go up to an inch or so: I couldn't even get the smallest in. My pucker pucked. I topped out at a pen.
I expected Jim to mock me, to laugh. He didn't. All he said was, "I know a guy." He handed me a card, the same one I was holding now. He also gave me a phone number to call, written in pen on the back of my hand like in middle school when the teachers took our phones away. "Don't chickenshit out. Make the call, go. Trust me." He shifted a little in his chair and stifled a sound – it sounded like a moan, but I was too drunk.
The door – I passed it at least twice. It was tucked away, and even though I'd been down here before, I'd never noticed it. Between a dry cleaner and Indian food market, there was another door. The number on it matched the number I'd been told. I walked up and was looking for some way to open it, it had no handle. Then, it opened itself.
Out walked a man, and I stepped back from the sudden exit. He was enormous. Built with muscles packed on muscles in ways I'd only seen and jerked off to in fitness competitions. Beneath a tight t-shirt that was way too sheer to be wearing in this weather was a very obvious leather harness, nipples encircled by its loops.
My mouth dropped open. He looked down at me – so fucking tall – and smiled. In a nice way. "You'll be glad you came." And he walked away. I watched his ass shift from side-to-side, perfectly framed by his tight pants.
I heard a buzz from the door, and I looked back, startled. It swung inwards, and when no one came out, I entered. I was met with stairs, because of course. It was clean, washed concrete, though the sterile fluorescent lights cast a medical, yet seedy glow. The hum of the ventilation was the only sound other than my feet. And my heart beating in my chest. My hands pushed farther to cover my cock. I could feel wetness in my underwear; I was leaking.
I passed by a door at one landing, and it was glass, I was facing it. I looked in and saw shapes and movement. A man was on all fours, but he looked ... odd. His back was just a little too long, limbs a little too thick, hair a little too even. I saw a leash leading from a collar around his neck. "Come!" and the man scurried forward in the direction of the leash, the sound of dog tags clinking from his neck.
I kept going down.
Two more flights, and another landing with another door. I peeked in and saw a man leaning back in a chair, eyes closed. His feet ... fuck! His feet were huge, and there was a man in front of him sucking on his toes. The man slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at me, smirking. I stumbled back and scurried down another three flights of stairs.
An archway was at the bottom, and I went through into what looked surprisingly modern, a reception room. A man sat behind a desk, leaned back, shirtless. His pecs were enormous, and he was idly flicking a massively engorged nipple. He moaned each time. He didn't notice me as I walked up. I looked up to him and coughed slightly.
The receptionist opened his eyes in surprise, looked at me, and sat up quickly. He reached down and pressed something, and a whirring stopped – it was like an HVAC sound where you only realize it was on once it turns off. I stood slightly taller and looked over the desk trying hard not to look like I was looking but I know he saw me looking. He pushed his chair back a bit and smiled at me. He had some device over his cock. He gently pulled it off, and a massive dick flopped out. Only four guys in the massive Forbian Cishner catalog from two decades of guys had a dick that big, just over 10" I quickly estimated, embarrassed I knew that and could measure dick so quickly.
"First time?" he asked.
I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. I nodded.
He peered at me, then asked, "Open your jacket a bit more?"
I lowered the zipper the whole way, cheeks flushing red.
He grinned. "You're in the right place. But rules are rules: Card please?"
My eyes never left his cock, but I managed to pull the now-sticky-with-sweat black card from my pocket, and I handed it to him. He took it and placed it on a device, like a card reader but one I'd never seen before. It glowed a calming blue.
The receptionist's eyes looked like they were reading, there must've been a screen built into the card reader. He looked from it to me and smiled wide. "Oh, you're gonna love it. Whoever signed you up, they must know you well."
"But I signed myself up."
His smile never faltered. "Through that door," he nodded to the side, handing the card back.
"Uh, thanks?"
He didn't reply. I walked to the door and it opened. I could still feel the spot of wetness in my pants, on my cockhead. I walked through the door and saw several more down a hallway. One glowed blue, none others did. I guessed that was where I'd go. I walked to it, and a sign next to the door read, "Present Card."
I held out the card again, and some sort of holographic display appeared on the door. "PATIENT CONSENT FORM" was written at the top. A pleasant male voice spoke out, "Please read thoroughly and sign at the bottom."
Fuck. I did not come all this way after being this late to spend another hour reading fine print. I scrolled quickly through it, skimming section headings. "Full-Body Access," "Permanent Modification," "Neurologi—", "Interna—" ... I scrolled faster. At the bottom was a signature block, but just above it was, "For full list of terms and conditions and full consent information, please read Attachment A."
Fuck! I scrawled my name with my finger. The hologram disappeared, the door slid open. I walked through, and the door closed behind me.
I was in a small anteroom, with one locker and a bench. The room was white, like ... really white. Like one of those futuristic sci-fi things that tries to be all high-tech this-is-the-future-so-it's-white but you feel sorry for the painters and custodians who have to keep it that way.
I heard the male voice again: "Remove all clothing below the waist, and remove jacket. Place in locker. Wear jockstrap from locker."
I looked around but didn't see any speakers and no other person. I gulped. I took off my jacket and hung it on the hook in the locker. I took off my shoes and socks, placing them in, and my jeans and boxerbriefs. I grabbed the jockstrap from the top shelf of the locker. It was pitch black. It felt good, high-quality. I bent down, and I heard the voice again: "You are erect. Would you like to orgasm before procedure?"
My dick immediately hardened more and throbbed as if to say, "Yes! Please!"
I grabbed it momentarily, my hand easily covering it in my palm. "Uh, no? I'm good, let's just do this."
The voice didn't reply, so I bent over again and pulled the jockstrap up. When I stood back up, another door in the opposite wall opened, one I hadn't seen before. I walked in.
In contrast with the white, this room was dark. I heard a loud click, and a light shone on a chair in the middle. I heard a different voice, the sound as though coming from a microphone piped through speakers in the room. "Please sit in the chair, Timothy."
My name. I flushed again. Despite my bare ass traipsing through the room, I somehow thought this would be anonymous. I looked around but didn't see anyone. I took a step forward, and I heard the man again: "Don't worry, you'll be in good hands. I'm your technician today, Orlando. I'll be making sure this all works well. Haven't had a problem yet!"
I tried to smile a little and got to the chair. It was a large contraption, with material like a gym weight bench. Just, more padded. It also had foot rests and armrests, and a lot of head support. Above the head that curved around, there was a mask, a rubber-looking corrugated hose coming from it and going off somewhere beyond the light. I turned around and sat in the chair.
From off to the side, a man came over and slightly shifted my limbs, repositioning my head. Unlike the others so far, he looked ... ordinary. Mid-40s, shaved head, shaggy scruff like he'd just forgotten to shave rather than it being intentional. A white lab coat hung over black clothes. He must've caught me staring: "The lab coat is just 'cause it gets a little cold in the booth. All this equipment runs hot, so we keep the AC turned way down. And it makes me feel a bit more important."
He smiled. His hands were warm on my wrists, and he smelled faintly of '90s body spray. "Nice shirt, by the way."
"Thanks," I muttered.
He reached up, the coat's fabric grazing my arm and cheek, and he lowered the mask. It had an integrated headset, so once lowered, I couldn't see anything.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's just really dark in here."
"That's the point. You did read what you signed, right?"
"I ... yeah, of course."
He let out a noise that sounded a bit like Odo's "Hrumph." "Then you know that this is an immersive experience."
"Of course," I replied, more indignant than I probably should've been.
I felt him lower something else, and my ears were completely covered. Every little sound that I hadn't realized was there before was now gone. I shifted a bit.
I sat like that for I don't know how long. If he was talking, I didn't hear him.
Then I saw a flash of light in the visor. A low rumble from the headset. I felt rather than heard a hiss in the gas mask, a faint, sweet smell coming through, the air slightly cool. I breathed deeply to get more of it, like fresh strawberries.
It hit me hard. I'd had good blasters before, but this ... fuck me. Within seconds I felt like I was flying, with none of the usual headache. I barely noticed a moving sensation, my center of gravity shifted. Blood surged to my head, my feet felt cold: The chair had rotated. I felt my legs pull apart, my hole exposed. Then I felt cold metal over my stomach, wrists, and ankles.
I panicked. I tried to struggle, and the flow from the mask kept coming. The hum in my ears grew louder. My frantic wriggling lessened until I just lay there at peace, feeling like I was floating somewhere else, my body left behind.
"You good there, Timmy?" It was the technician in the earset.
My mouth felt weird and my tongue felt thick with the taste of strawberries. "Hate that name, I'm ... I'm fine."
"Good." I heard a click, like he'd turned off the microphone he was using.
I lay there and breathed for who-the-fuck-knows-or-cares how long, I could do this forever. The gas had warmed and I felt like I was floating through a summer field of fresh fruit waving at me, tasting the colors as I danced with giant cocks and felt their sweet cream rolling down my throat with the noise of strawberries.
The technician watched from his booth. The subject had definitely relaxed, his brainwaves calm, heart rate slightly elevated, breathing low, pulse-ox fine. Orlando smiled and looked over the list from the contract. They never read the whole thing. He pressed a button. The machine sprang to life. "This is going to be fun," he thought. "Wet, sloppy hole" was what the guy signed up for, that's what he'll get.
Part 2: Hole New You
The hum that filled my ears grew louder, and I came back to Earth to listen. It stopped, and I heard a voice. "Observation mode initiated. The system will now demonstrate modification procedures. At the end, you will be able to decide what you would like. Haptic feedback is enabled. Warning: This may be overwhelming. If anxious, just breathe."
I took a deep breath and relaxed. In the visor, I zoomed through a black void towards a man, lying in a chair much like the one I imagined myself being in right now. He was wearing a black jockstrap, just like mine. He looked a little younger though, like, maybe he could buy booze. Legally. Similar light build, thin but present muscles, nondescript brown mussed hair.
I zoomed around in the VR to look at his ass. It was so cute, tight, squeezed shut like mine. I felt sorry for him.
"Subject One: Rectal modification. Initiating. Progress: 0%." Four bars appeared in the VR space to my lower right, and they were labeled: "External Tightness," "Internal Width," "Depth," and "Sensation." The bars were outlined white, filled with black void.
The man's pucker clenched, and I felt the same in mine. It was like a cold breeze had just blown across it. "Calibrating sensations," the emotionless voice spoke.
It was amazing sensory input. I watched, and a small finger-like object approached his tight O-ring. It clenched; mine clenched. The object pressed against it, glistening with a liquid, and it just stayed there. I felt it, too. The most gentle of pressures from the most unassuming, small object. I saw the man's ring clench again, and mine did, too, in camaraderie.
"External sphincter contact. Resting tone is above average. Initiating relaxation protocol."
The finger gently circled around the hole, drifting over it and pushing a little harder each time. It felt amazing, and each time it seemed to almost get in a bit more, but it was like it was in no hurry to enter. I felt it each time, and at some level, I knew it was supposed to go in, the tight asterisk wanted that finger - and more – inside. I sighed, taking in a deeper hit of whatever they were pumping through the mask, and at that point I saw the finger go in. The hole didn't look violated, it just accepted that it was supposed to be opened, like a person knocking on a door and being let inside.
I felt it, and I watched the man gasp at the same time I did. The gas saturated my system, and another joint of the finger went into the man's hole. In the corner of my eye, I saw the first two progress bars inch higher, labeled "2%." Poor guy, barely anything.
I watched, and the finger seemed to excrete more fluid, glistening, dripping into the dark void. I felt more intrusion in my own hole, and it was painful.
"Pain response detected. Altering nerve response."
Immediately the pain left, and I could see the man in the chair visibly relax. Good. As I watched the finger leave, the man pushed down to try to keep it in. But, it left, and his tight pucker returned to puckering, glistening with the lubricant. Needy.
"External tissue is more firm than usual. Transition to interior enlargement and augmentation first."
What did that mean? I watched as a new device came up. It was what I imagined a balloon animal balloon would look like if just a teeny bit inflated, over a foot long and pencil-thin. It approached the glistening, wrinkled muscle and pushed in without problem. I felt it, too, and I breathed in more of the gas in a relaxed sigh.
"Initiating protocol. Internal widening commencing, nerve rearrangement commencing contemporaneously."
Nerve rearrangement?
I watched as most of the balloon stayed outside, but I somehow felt it inside me. It started to rotate, dragging the walls of my – of his – rectum along. The sensation was amazing, like getting a massage, but in there. I let out a soft whimper, or maybe that was the man in the chair.
A movement caught my eye, and the "Sensation" bar was up to 5%. I felt tingling in tiny places, like a tiny, impossibly small needle poking inside, and then moving, squirming, and then only pleasure left behind. Warmth, sensation.
I felt but didn't see the balloon start to thicken. The man groaned, and I groaned with him. A VR cutaway came up and snapped to the lower-left of my vision. It showed what looked like a balloon animal poodle tail: Thin balloon over most of the length, but a growing-in-thickness ball – then oval – at the end. As it slowly widened, a label appeared. Right now, it was 1 inch.
I groaned. 1 inch? This is what one lousy inch felt like? Was that it? I wanted to be able to take– FUCK!
Something new flooded my mask or it was finally really hitting me. The balloon was up to 2" wide and the thick part was now 4" long, still twisting inside.
"Internal tissue potential is significant. Re-calibrating. ... ... ... Increasing thresholds."
The technician watched the screens, making sure the subject was still okay. He saw a blue alert flashing. He raised a single eyebrow. Well, that hadn't happened in awhile. He glanced up to another screen that showed the probe's status. And another screen that had a close-up of Timothy's hole. This was going to be fun.
I had watched – and felt – the "Internal Width" progress bar go up to just past 60%. When the voice said that, the progress bar dropped back down to 29%. What? What did that mean? I couldn't think too long because I moaned again, the "Sensation" bar now up to 10%.
I looked over and saw the cross-section. It wasn't just the probe, it showed the guy's lower bowels. I could see the sphincter clenched tightly around the stem of the probe, but the walls inside were pressed tightly against it as it slowly twisted, expanding. It was up to 3" wide, 5" long.
I felt like I had to piss, the pressure was so great.
"Continuing to re-route nerves; adjusting response. Magnifying."
The sensation was gone, only pleasure remained. It was like I imagined it. 3 inches now? That was almost a hand. Some of the dildos I bought that I had never dreamed I would get in and sat now lonely in my toy box gathering dust. Fuck, this guy was lucky. He was squirming, and I felt his pai— no, his pleasure.
"Improving elasticity."
I felt my inner walls relax more, and the probe fill out more, gradual sensation. The progress bar increased, it was now back to 50%. Sensation was at 34%. I'd never felt anything like this before. I was definitely signing up for this when the simulation was done.
The balloon continued to grow, and I saw the cutaway's walls keep pushing outwards. The probe seemed to release extremely thin tendrils that I saw spread out; I didn't feel them at all, maybe that wasn't part of the "haptic feedback" or whatever it said. I held my breath, waiting for the next twist or growth.
I kept holding.
It didn't come. I saw the guy squirming again. I had to let it out. I gave a massive exhale and deep inhale of breath, forgetting about the gas until it hit me again, blasting me into orbit.
Somewhere down below, I heard the computer voice: "Internal rearrangement, anatomy adjustment to accommodate width."
I watched while nothing looked like it was happening, interior or exterior. Come-the-fuck-on! Keep going! I screamed silently into the simulation void.
"Permanent internal rearrangement completed to accommodate maximum elasticity. Proceeding to widen."
Finally! I felt it grow as I came back down from my high, 4.25", 4.5", 4.75", 5.0" ... 6" ... 6.5".
All I could describe it as was pressure that morphed immediately into pleasure. Just immense, incredible sensation coursing through my – the guy's – hole, now a cavern. From the cutaway, it looked like something from Alice in Wonderland, with a tiny door you couldn't fit through that opened into a vast new world.
When I could focus long enough, my eyes darted to the cutaway on the left to the progress bars on the right. 7" wide, the bar was in the 90s. Fuck. The "Sensation" bar was still <50%. If this is what <50% felt like ... I inhaled deeply again.
"Initiating depth enhancement."
I felt it before I saw it, and the guy in front of me bucked his hips. The probe was wider than it was long now, but that was changing. It was 6" long, then 7" long, then 8" long, and I just felt it continue to grow and grow. The feeling was somewhere between my asshole and my stomach, it was like it was pushing up through and past things that it shouldn't be able to push past.
It just felt ... big. On the inside. A massive pressure growing up and through me. Warm, ballooning, and no pain.
"Sensing subject alarm. Initiate calming protocol. Continue internal accommodation procedures. Continue depth modification."
The smell shifted to raspberries and lemon, and I immediately felt calmer and relaxed. I watched, just feeling as the probe continued to slowly lengthen. The progress bar was a little above 50%, and the length read 8.5". Fuck, this guy was going to be able to take a forearm! I just felt the pressure, a pleasurable pressure flowing through me now, I felt like I would be swaying back-and-forth if I weren't in this hot-as-fuck VR machine watching this guy get this fantasy procedure done. It felt warm and soft, and I could feel it growing through my guts.
"Permanent internal flexibility completed. Elasticity optimal. Nerve density 6.9 times baseline. Permanent internal rearrangement completed. Rectum separated from digestive system per new specifications. Self-lubrication installed. Continuing growth."
I giggled. "Permanent." Heh. I think I also drooled a bit. I glanced down, the probe was now 14" long. Self-lubrication? I think that was part of the "wet, sloppy hole" package I had discussed.
"Initiating withdraw for final phase of anal reconstruction."
"Withdraw?" What? No! That cavern needed to be filled. I felt like I needed to be filled, I just needed to have a hole like that that could be filled! I watched as the thickness and length of the probe decreased, and I felt it decrease inside my own guts, and the man in front of me groaned and wiggled as though he, too, was trying to keep it inside, big and hard, dripping cock ... I slurped, I think I drooled again.
I glanced down: "Internal Width" at 99%, "Depth" at 98%, "Sensation" at 72%. I felt every bit of the withdraw, with my inner walls trying to clench it back, and with sadness in my heart. Not at 100% yet. "External Tightness" at a mere 3%. As the probe withdrew, the first two numbers went down, ticking slowly, settling near 90%. No!!!! They had to stay up! Get to 100%! Higher!
I felt hollow inside, like I'd been cored out, permanently, like I wanted. But now it was empty. It ached for sensation again. I wanted to cry.
"Internal modification complete. Initiate external modification. Tissue is denser, less compliant. System initiating rapid rhythmic dilation."
Orlando watched with fascination. This was a new baseline, this subject was remarkably compliant and moldable. He jotted down some notes. And couldn't wait to see what the next step could do.
What does "rhythmic dilation" mean? It sounded like a baby coming out; thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster I never would have to deal with that! Dilating to 10 cm and passing a baby through a ... I shuddered ... that would be ... ouch.
Mmmm. Flying Spaghetti Monster ... and his noodley appendages. I giggled again and breathed deeply.
I felt it first. The probe had completely withdrawn, the hollow feeling throbbing inside me, when I felt a punch. Not in my gut, but in my gut. I gasped, and the man I was watching jolted. It was like a bright light had exploded in his ass. I saw the probe pull out, the man's anal ring getting dragged until it popped the probe out and resumed its tight punctuation mark.
The probe was the shape of a cone-shaped buttplug, complete with abruptly thinner neck. I glanced over, and it was 0.5" wide. Fuck ... he was tight. I looked to the other side, "Internal Width" was at 85% now, "Depth" at 82%. No! We're losing ground!
I jolted again, the probe had popped in. And out. In. Out. It started slowly. Every few seconds. In. Then dragging out. In, then dragging out. The progress bar for "External Tightness" was at 5%.
"Tightness above estimated initial parameters. Increasing stimulation."
The probe thrust in quickly, still painfully. Half an inch dragged holeflesh out with it, only for it to pop back into place. The speed increased. Maybe once a second now.
"Initiating additional methods."
Still going in and out, at least once a second, the probe was getting thicker. I also saw it start to excrete a milky blue fluid. I felt my pucker start to tingle. The pain was going away, sensation increasing. Like a million of the tiniest microscopic things slicing away at the tightness that had been there, leaving only an amazingly smooth, impossibly elastic ring in their wake. I watched the man's pucker start to visibly relax, too. I inhaled again, deeply. Like a blueberry pie. The sphincter relaxed again, the probe punch-fucking it now at least twice a second, 120 bpm. The cross-section showed it thrusting over and over again, and the probe slowly got wider. And wider. Increasing in size, and the pucker – no, the hole – finally was relaxing with it. It felt ... good. Really good.
At 2 inches wide, the progress bar jumped down from 45% to 30%.
"Additional methods yielded above-average results. New threshold set."
New threshold? Is that why it jumped again? 3" across, the man's hole was glorious. The probe pushed through, popping in, and dragging out, the hole barely able to recover before the probe went back in. Flare. Grip. Hold. Release. Repeat. Repeat.
I watched in fascination. My own hole twitched and flexed and throbbed in synergy, admiring the probe's handiwork. Over and over again. It just felt used. Stretched beyond any stretching I ever dreamed of. Tingling, sweet release. Like my hole had finally decided, "Fuck it, I'm done being a tightass."
At 6.5", the probe stopped. Just hovering above the entrance.
The entrance was a hole. The sound reverberated in my skull. It was gaped open at least an inch, puffy, sloppy, after having been stretched for who knows how long this simulation ran. I wanted to run a finger along it, touch the puffy, touch the pink, dripping flesh.
"Sizes near desired thresholds. Applying completion measures to ensure permanent results are achieved."
The probe started to get covered in a slightly whiter substance and bashed into the man's hole, causing him – and me – to jerk up. It kept going in, enlarging, coating the entire cavern in the substance. Thick. Long. I felt the coating. I felt the probe. It was like both were putting in scaffolding, talking to the man's muscles, convincing them to not cave in again.
I saw the progress bars go up again. The sensation spiking. I could feel every tiny bit of the probe as it worked its way through the simulated man's bowels, the sensation magnified a hundred-fold. The probe started to vibrate, and I felt the vibration through my entire being. It increased in size. Just a little, but it felt so intense. So ... filling. And then it narrowed its base and excruciatingly slowly withdrew, dragging the hole with it until finally the base popped out, and then 14 more inches followed.
Then, it repeated. And repeated. I lost track of the cycles. I just felt ... open. The hole itself: open. My cavern: open. My depths: open. When it finally withdrew and didn't go back in, I opened my eyes. All four bars were at 100%.
The man's hole was a thing of beauty. I marveled at it. The wrinkled skin looking like it was breathing trying to close, but no– never ever again would that manhole close. I could even see inside a little, the flesh pulsing with need, desire. Restructured. That was a hole that knew what it wanted, and it was advertising exactly what it was, and it could never pretend otherwise.
Part 3: Outward Bound
"Optimum parameters achieved. Initiating next procedure: Chest modification."
My hole flexed like it was trying to close, but the man faded away from me. A new one took his place. This one was older than me, maybe the tech's age, early 40s. He, too, had on a black jockstrap, but his shirt was off. Instead, a leather harness was there, shiny metal O-rings framing each flat, nondescript, hairless nipple.
Orlando sipped his coffee. It had been a long session so far, the external hole widening had taken longer than normal, but the results were fantastic. He palmed his cock. He hoped to try it out. He watched the screens – everything still looked good. Nothing to be concerned about for moving forward. He brought up the consent form again and looked at Appendix A. He smiled. The subject got what he wanted, now it was time for Orlando to have a bit of fun. And, the subject would be happy he did ... eventually.
A progress bar appeared, then another. And another. "Nipple Size," "Surrounding Area," "Sensitivity."
Fuuuuuck. Was this like a bonus catalog? I felt so horny, and – woah! I felt a drip of liquid trail down through my cavern, accumulate on the rim, and drip off. It was like I was still feeling the first guy's mods. And the sensation was so real, so intense.
I'd never considered nipple modifications. Those were too outward-facing. Fuck, I barely made it here today, no way I'd ever get something that I couldn't hide.
I watched eagerly. A new scent entered my nose, this one of freshly mowed grass. I felt relaxed, my muscles losing tension, tingling. It focused in my hole, distracting me, but then migrated to my chest.
I saw twin devices descend down from the dark area around the VR sim'd man, and the stopped just above his nipples. My view shifted, and I was above his chest. His nipples were tight. Pale pink, just a smidgen darker than the rest of his chest. They were "innies," flat. I bet he wouldn't feel anything if someone tried to play with them. I felt sorry for him. And, a bit for myself. I always wanted to have sensitive nips, but I just wasn't wired that way.
A sharp bit of movement, and I felt a searing heat in my chest, concentrated right on the nipples. The man bucked, but a metal restraint across his chest and arms held him down. I felt it, too. It wasn't painful – or, it wasn't too painful. It was more real heat temperature, and pressure, a burning pressure pushing, doing ... something.
The man tried pushing again against the restraints, but they held him tightly. He thrust his chest up, and I followed suit, I couldn't feel the back of the chair anymore.
The heat was inside, not outside, pushing, pressure. And ... more?
I watched in fascination as his nipples stiffened, popping first, imperceptibly, from being below the surrounding areolae to above. If there was any sound other than my own moans, I expected there would be a pop as they broke through. Go, little nipple buds! Go! Be free! Stand proud!
I cheered them on as they stiffened, not from cold – they, or at least mine – felt hot. Growing, lengthening. Fuck, it was like an old morphing fetish vid from back in the day that I had saved, the nipples growing out and up, firm. They were just a millimeter, but already that was an improvement. Two millimeters. Three. They looked like mine now, pink, small, but at least there. The heat was still there, the pressure, the sensation that something was rummaging around in my – his – chest, changing it.
"Increasing vascularity to support increased tissue."
The flush heat feeling spread out, and now not only were his tender nipple buds growing bit by bit, but I could see the areolae grow, darkening, supporting the proud nubs that were now peeking out from the surrounding metal rings of the tight leather. Where before the areolae were maybe the size of my pinky fingernail, they were practically as wide as quarters, and the nipple was standing proudly from them. Maybe 3.5 mm now.
They pulsed. I felt a wave of pleasure emanating from my nipples, and I groaned, drooling a bit more. I didn't care, this was fucking hot.
I glanced down. To the left there was no cross-section to look at, while to the right I saw the progress bars. Yeah, I'd almost forgotten about those. Size was at 50%, Surrounding was at 70%, Sensitivity at 63%. Would they reset again, re-calibrate?
As if to answer me, I heard the male computer voice: "Subject responding better than anticipated. Recalibrating. New threshold set."
The "Nipple Size" bar went down to 28%, "Sensitivity" down to 13%. Fuck! 13%? I wasn't even touching them and they were on fire!
I watched, the areolae spreading out and now fully filling the O-rings. The nipples continued to grow, like they were being pumped full of air, but I knew it wasn't air. They were cylindrical, pulsing with need, and I felt that need. I wanted desperately to lick them or stroke them or pinch them, but I felt as restrained as the man I was watching.
He moaned with me as I watched, and as the Sensitivity slider went up, I felt something new: Contact. I looked down. The VR me had a shirt on, slightly ribbed, just like my "I ❤️ 🐓" shirt (ribbed for my pleasure, I'd joked). But now, it was no joke. As the slider hit 30%, I felt the fabric. With the sensitivity of a fingertip my nipples conveyed every stitch of that shirt through my nervous system, and every breath caused slight shifting, more sensory input to my core.
I watched as the man in front of me breathed, too, and with each rise of his chest, his nipples grew a little bigger, a tiny bit at a time. Wider, thicker. Taller. They stood proudly from his chest, not hiding anymore below the harness, never able to hide from anything again.
Begging to be touched. Squeezed. Nibbled. Aching. I felt the aching for them. My own nipples begged for the same thing.
As the sensitivity slider went up more, nearing 90%, I felt something new: Every second, the fabric of my shirt sliding just a little bit across them. My own heartbeat. It quickened, my breathing deeper, the scent of the fresh grass filling my lungs and the sensations across my chest. I felt the temperature difference between the fabric and air, the 1/2" nipple height pushing my shirt away from my body. The slider showed the size and everything else maxed out: 100%.
I shuddered.
Orlando put his coffee down. 'Bout time. He walked quietly into the room – not that Timothy would be able to hear him. Orlando reached over to his nipples: He wanted to try them.
The tiny twin needles withdrew. I saw a phantom, disembodied hand come into the light and reach over to the man's nipples. The hand flicked the left one. I shattered. The sensation was like nothing else. My hole tried to clench but failed as my tit sent flames of pleasure coursing through my body. I gasped, I moaned, I writhed. The man on the table did the same thing.
The phantom hand flicked the other nipple. I was prepared for it, mentally. My body still was not. It was indescribable, I felt like I was melting down, the throbbing of blood and sensation I could hear in my ears. The phantom hand withdrew.
"Optimum parameters achieved. Subject's nipples are permanently enlarged. Surrounding tissue suitably enhanced. Sensitivity increased by a factor of 20; original baseline target was 10."
I barely recovered, but I looked. The areolae were a dark blush red, filling the harness's rings, and the nipples were at least a third of an inch around and poked up half an inch from his chest. While the areolae looked puffy, the nipples looked swollen, but I knew they weren't. This was how they were now. They looked ... aggressive. Demanding, loud. It would be impossible to ignore them, impossible to not see them. Impossible to wear a normal shirt and not collapse from the sensation.
He made it back to the booth. Looked at Timothy's responses. "Damn, that guy's a natural." He thought about what else he could do. He looked over to Timothy – Timmy, he'd make sure of it – who was breathing heavily. Orlando could see on the readout that a feedback between Timmy's breathing and his nipples rubbing against his shirt was likely to keep going for awhile. What else ... . He pulled up some recent work, and then found it. He smirked. This one would be interesting.
"Initiating next procedure: Genital modification, accessories."
I was panting and didn't really hear what he said, but the man in front of me disappeared. A new one materialized. Maybe early 30s, just about my age, slightly older. Thin, twinky. He was wearing a t-shirt, and a black jockstrap. Like me! I giggled a bit. Then the jockstrap went away and I felt sorry for this guy, too, when I saw his dick. My own cock twitched in sympathy: It was "nice," below average, maybe 4.5–5" and hard. He was aroused for this, and I was hard. It was cute and totally suckable.
I wondered what was going to go on, and I shuddered as I shifted and my shirt rubbed against my nipples, my hole quivering. I'd never thought about this kind of modification. I mean, sure, practically every guy wants a bigger dick at some point. But really, my hole was my focus. It tried to squeeze in agreement, the contraction sending shivers through me. I felt another tiny drop of lubrication start to drip from somewhere deep inside me, slowly working its way over each bump and ridge, and then I shifted, my nipples lit up, and the drop fell out my open hole. The VR's open hole. Hot.
Super hot. I looked up at him, I was positioned now in front of his cock, slightly below. I had a twinge of voyeurism – should I really be watching this? Yes, of course! I mean ... fuck ... it's just a simulation. A really realistic simulation and after it my hole would be so tight it'd hurt passing a lima bean.
A new scent filled the air: musk. Was it his? Did his crotch smell like this? I relaxed again, all my concerns slipping away like a stain of breath upon a mirror.
Three progress bars appeared to my lower right, the format familiar now. "Penis Size," "Penis Sensitivity," "Firmness." Below those were two checkboxes: "Augmentation." That was new. And no separate bars for width versus length?
I looked closer: They weren't the same as before. This interface was full of surprises. "Penis Size" had notches and it was already filled to a little more than half-way between 4" and 5" on top, the scale going to 15". I gulped. My hole quivered. On the bottom of it was a different scale labeled "soft." It was currently half-way between 1" and 2". As I said: cute.
"Penis Sensitivity" was filled 1/3 of the way. "Firmness" was at 80%. He looked pretty damn firm to me. Throbbing, even. What was 100%? So hard it could go through metal?
Where the fuck was this going?!
"Genital enlargement commencing."
Of course. Grow, dickie, grow! I was giddy, and I think I drooled a little again. The musk filled my lungs and I breathed deeply. I saw his dick throb. Mine did, too. It was dripping with anticipa--
A device emerged from the side, a clear sleeve, looking a little like a SkinLite®. I'd tried them before, but they just didn't do anything for me and ... my dick was too thin to really feel them. Thank FSM no one's around ...
Orlando had stepped into the room again. He'd hit the manual override and grabbed the device. He wanted to do this himself. He pulled the device off the machine and came close to Timmy. He gently pulled the jockstrap pouch to the side. Damn, this guy's dick was still rock hard; the pouch was wet. Gotta hand it to him with staying power. After this procedure, though ... . He grinned and slipped the lubed sleeve down Timmy's cock. The sleeve was about 2 ft long, so he held it and re-attached the arm: Timmy would never feel the weight. He walked back to the control room.
I felt a slick on my dick, my rock hard dick, throbbing. It felt encased more in the jockstrap. I bounced it, watching the VR pouch representation of me throb. Heh. I'd be getting more use from my hole after I agreed to the mods after this. I'd come too far, this was awesome. I couldn't wait for my real hole to completely lack any pussy clench, it to drip wet with anticipa--
Fuck! I felt a suction on my cock and it felt intense. Like, that time I took the vacuum hose and ... no, I don't need to re-live that doctor visit.
But this, this was ... woah! I watched the device on the twink's – the man's – cock. It pulsed. It looked like it pulled. I felt the pulses, I felt the pull. It was agonizingly drawn out, like ... like ... I dunno. Just ... wow. It felt amazing.
I saw the wires leading into the device start to fill out, like they were filling with something. I felt anxious, my needle phobia not abated after the nipple events. I saw the man's dick throb again, and in sympathetic beats, mine throbbed, too. I felt the slightest prickling sensation, like when a limb starts to fall asleep, and then pressure and pleasure. Growing.
Not just a pressure in my own dick, the man's dick was growing. It looked like it was stretching out, a bit at a time, every throb I felt was an enlargement that didn't go down. I glanced to the bars to the right, under the twink's ass. The top part of the size bar was at 6". The bottom part at 2".
My dick throbbed again, in sync with his. His was filling up the tube more – or, whatever it was wrapped around his dick. I felt mine throb in what had to be a very slick jockstrap by now. I hoped the tech wouldn't notice.
His veins were standing out now, decorating his cock like a master cartographer would draw rivers on a map. Pulsing. I felt the constriction around my own dick, and it felt like bits of ... something ... were moving through it.
"Penis size is sufficient for sensitivity enhancement."
The bits of something felt like they exploded inside me in a glittery shower of sensation. Every little bit of my cock was on fire, my balls contracted, and I came. I shot my load in the VR sim while watching some other guy's dick get enlarged. I panted, my nipples shifting under my shirt and lighting my chest on fire. The contractions ... I felt them in my hole. Fuck! My hole. The thing I came here for was pulsing as if to say, "No! I'm here, too! Don't forget about me!"
But the sucking on my cock kept going, the whirring sensations as the sheath started to twist and turn, I threw my head back, my tits rubbing on my shirt and I felt like I had to cum again. The lower-right bars followed me. The top bar's penis size was at the 9" mark, huge by most standards, this big-dicked twink could easily be in porn. The bottom one was 4", almost as big soft as my cock was hard in real life.
Sensitivity was now at 70%. I believed it. I shifted and I felt every ridge of the jockstrap against my slick, hard dick. I don't know why it wasn't poking out of the strap at this point – right, I did. This was VR. Still, it felt so real.
His dick head was red, throbbing, engorged, crowning a thick shaft. 10" hard, 5.5" soft. How would he hide that in the locker room? The pool? I inhaled and the musk clouded my mind again, I relaxed, and I felt my penis relax and enlarge again. The bar was impossible: 11" hard, 5.75" soft. Sensitivity: 90%.
"Penis near optimum size. Initiating firmness adjustments."
I couldn't wait to see this one. Every fiber of the pouch titillated – fuck my tits were so sensitive – my cock. It kept growing, but more slowly now, the progress bar topping at 11.5" hard, 6.3" soft. I'd ne— he would never be able to hide that. It was beautiful, glorious. Sensitive. Proud. Standing tall. I watched it throb, and I eagerly felt mine throb as I looked to the "Firmness" progress bar, still at 80%.
I watched. I drooled a bit more and took a big hit of whatever they were still pumping into this gas mask. My brain zipped around my body and slammed back in my head. My dick, hole, and nipples throbbed.
I watched the progress bar. Something was wrong. It was going down. 74%. 71%. 69%.
I looked up to the twink. His beautiful dick was shrinking. No, not shrinking: deflating. I still felt it: The pull of the fabric against the thick, long cock; the beautiful head, red and angry, poking beyond the foreskin that was threatening to swallow it up now that it was softening. It still felt enormous, felt amazing. But somehow ... less. Firmness was at 57%. It was maybe 10" long now. Still, enormous. 9.7" Still giant. Heavy. Throbbing but not as firmly. So sensitive I felt the throb. The progress bar said it was 11.7" hard, 6.0" soft, though.
"Optimum parameters achieved. Subject's penis is permanently enlarged. Surrounding groin muscles suitably enhanced. Testicular size already optimum for this sized penis. Sensitivity increased by a factor of 9. Removing sheath. Firmness adjustment continuing during augmentation."
"Augmentation?" Fuck. What did that mean? I had an idea. Saline? No, they'd already enhanced the twink's cock. Balls? No, the voice said those were fine. My blood drained as I saw needles approach the twink's cock. I tried to look away, but for the first time, no matter where I turned my head, the cock was in front of me.
I tried to flex it. So did the twink. It gave a feeble shift, but it was slightly soft. It still felt rock-hard, but it looked ... deflated? No, it was still fucking thick and still twice as long as my real cock was. I glanced: Firmness was at 49%. Fuck. What did "firmness" mean? It wasn't soft, like, deflated, but it wasn't long and stiff anymore. It was like the structural supports were dissolving, or growing weaker, unable to hold the mass up.
I felt the prick, it broke me out of my deep, deep – my hole clenched – thoughts.
I looked at the twink, and one of the checkboxes filled. Thick, surgical, shiny metal. A shaft through the frenulum. An instrument drew gently across it, and we both shuddered, the sensitivity magnificent. But the cock, seriously what looked almost as thick as a beer can, was drooping under its own weight. The shaft curved down, a heavy, gentle arc. Magnificent. Useless. So sensitive.
"Firmness floor reached. At 42%, penis will thicken and lengthen to almost its full potential, but it will not be firm, it will be unsuitable for penetration."
"Unsuitable for penetration" ... the words hung there in my ears. I was turned on. I don't know why. It was like I was participating in the twink's humiliation. I felt humiliated for him. A beautiful piece like that, just for show. Damn.
"Extraneous penile blood flow re-routed to support other sexual organs."
My nipples and my hole felt flush, both spasming. The twink didn't, he just lay there. Wait– that wasn't right. So far, we'd all had the same responses. This was all just supposed to be "haptic feedback" or some shit. My nipples felt harder, my hole puffier; I started to panic, and I felt the gas increase, the musk filling every fiber of my being. I floated, I felt wonderful ... at peace.
Another needle made its way to the twink's dropping cock, I felt a pinch, and the cold steel was hot like fire through my dick, sending a sensation ripping through me like a current to my hole – my open, gaping, restructured, virtual hole – spasmed hard in response. The curved bar that was left behind pierced the urethra and through the bottom of the penis, a Prince Albert. Thick gauge, heavy. The dick drooped just a bit more. I felt like I could feel the weight on my own cock.
I took another deep breath, held it, let it out, sucked in some more gas, held it, and let it out slowly. I felt no pain, only pleasure. The other checkbox filled.
"Augmentation complete. Firmness adjustment complete. Penis enlargement completed."
I breathed deeply, heavily. This had to be it. We were done, right?
Part 4: Observation Mode: Off
Orlando watched. The subject was a work of beauty. His hole pulsed, never closing, the nipples stood out, tenting his shirt. Timmy's cock was gorgeous, a work of art. Maybe his finest. But, there was another stage. He pressed a button. He put a key into a receptacle on the console, and he turned it. He pressed another button.
"Neurological recalibration commencing."
The twink in front of me was gone. I was alone, floating in a black void.
I felt a pressure. A tingling. Inside my head.
"Anxiety pathways are being re-routed, attenuated."
I inhaled. There was no smell this time, but I still felt like I was flying, floating. Drowning in sensations ricocheting in the triangle connecting my cock to my nipples to my hole. My cavernous, gaping hole.
"Modesty pathways are being re-routed, attenuated."
I didn't care what the voice was saying. I just wanted to scratch my itch. My dick wanted attention. My nipples were on fire against my shirt. My hole tried to clench but couldn't close.
"Reward pathways are being enhanced, amplified, to the following stimuli: Penetration via oral or anal; fullness; stretching; submission; physical availability; being watched; exhibitionism; humiliation; stimulation via anal, nipple, penile, or other; being used; being desired; pet names; belittling."
Yes! I wanted to be touched! Fill me! Fist me! Stroke me! Big Dumb Hole Play with me! I don't fucking care, just use me!
"Social inhibitions associated with body modification and sexual display: Attenuated. Subject will derive pleasure regardless. Humiliation pathways: Intact. Submission pathways: Enhanced."
I really wasn't paying attention anymore. I just wanted them to let my arms go free. Just let me enjoy this before I went back to being me. Please?
"Recalibration complete. Permanent neurological reconfiguration successful. Subject is completed."
Yes! Finally! Yes! I agree to the anal expansion! Whatever! Just ... just fucking do it!!
I squirmed and thrashed, still restrained like the guys in the VR. I whimpered. I felt like a wanton slut. A hole. On fire, linked to my cock and my nipples, begging for more stimulation.
I felt something: A weight, a pressure coming off my ears. Cold air rushed across them, and I could hear myself moaning. Groaning against the chair. I heard a voice, not the computer voice.
"Calm down, Timmy. You've been through a lot. Just, settle, let me get you out of this. Slowly ... easy does it."
"Damn," Orlando thought. "This guy's begging for it. You can build the body all day, and they're great to look at. Stretch a hole, wire the nips, weight and enlarge the cock. But it's all up there, that's the kicker. You can modify the body, but to actually be the modified body, gotta add the neural."
The cold restraints slipped off. I was panting into the mask. My ears ringing, my head slowly coming back, yet at the same time, it felt like things were missing. I shook it a bit. I breathed more deeply, wanting that scent. It was gone. They'd turned it off. The last thing to come off was the gas mask.
I moaned.
"Fuck, sorry little dude, I forgot to tell you to shut your eyes. You've been in the VR machine for over 12 hours."
The words didn't register. I squinted. Squeezed my eyes. I didn't want to open them, I didn't want to see my normal body again, my flat nipples, small cock that barely bulged in the jock, my ... I gulped. I couldn't go back, I was scared to see my tight little asterisk of a pucker again.
I heard wheels. They stopped in front of me.
"Okay Timmy, you can open your eyes."
I squinted. The lights were bright. There was a curved mirror in front of me. No, a few mirrors. Below, in front, above. I looked.
It was like the guys in the VR. This must be a movie, or a grafting of images, a projection.
The hole was ... it was beautiful. Magnificent. It winked at me. I winked back. But I felt it. I felt it trying to clench and failing, the sides of the O staying an O instead of a *. But that was impossible. It had to be. I looked at the mirror in front of me, and the jockstrap was still there. But spilling out from it to the left was a massive cock. Thick, long, throbbing, but I could see the pouch digging into it. It wasn't firm. Erect, but not hard. Two sharp, bright glimmers of metal shone in it. I shook my head and lay back. I opened my eyes again and there above me, staring back at me, was my chest. "I ❤️ 🐓" across my ribbed shirt, tented up by two massive-looking posts.
"Do you like it?" the technician asked.
I moved my hand, the hand in the mirror moved with it. I touched one nipple, and it threw lightning out to the other one, to my cock, and my hole. Both the latter two spasmed, my cock leaking a little. I moaned. My hole dripped a little liquid and I could feel it travel across every bit of skin.
"Here, let me move you." The technician moved the chair, reorienting me so I was facing forward instead of up, moving the legs more together.
I was panting at the stimulation. My hole finally started to feel a bit closed, but still gaping.
I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "I don't understand. It was all VR."
He smiled. "Not all of it."
I wanted to feel angry. But I couldn't. I loved it. Everything, every modification, every enhancement, every bit of it. "Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled. "No problem, Timmy. Here, let me show you what your hole is really about."
He walked around and knelt down between my legs, still a little spread. He looked up at me and held up his index finger. He went back down and he just touched my hole. It throbbed, purring like a lion, and was already so open that his finger slipped right in. Two. I felt a third. Fourth. He tucked his thumb under and ohmyfuckinggod he was fisting me and I felt every.single.bit of him as his fist went up through me. Every ridge on his fingers and hand and wrist, every single hair on his arm. The creases of his – oh my – of his elbow as they made their way into my hole. My abs bulged with his fist. He shifted it around. I felt so amazingly full. So impossibly full. This couldn't be real. The human body couldn't do this.
It was excruciating, him pulling out. I felt it again, and my hole never closed behind him.
"How'd that feel?"
All I could do was pant and moan.
"Your hole will never really close again. Here, take it, it's on the house." He held up an enormous buttplug, it had to be at least 4" around at the widest, and 3" at the base. I just stared. He dropped down and slid it in. My hole greedily accepted it, and I felt every tiny texture beat across its massiveness. My new natural lubrication helped it settle into place, the taper gentle, my restructured rim snuggling around it, like a puffy blanket embracing a stuffed teddybear.
He held it in. "Here, let me help you up. It'll take some getting used to."
I took his hand, my shirt shifting, and I gasped. I couldn't stand it anymore, I took my shirt off. My nipples pointed out like two red pens, angry, needing to be touched. But free from the shirt, it was bearable.
I took a step, and he let go. The plug was so large that I had to stick my butt out. I couldn't walk straight up anymore, it just ... I tried, and I failed. But I didn't want to look hunched over, so I had to stick my chest out. My enlarged nipples leading the way.
"I don't think you'll ever be able to hide those anymore."
I looked at my tits. I rubbed my finger across one of them. I shuddered. "Good."
Orlando smiled. "Okay, your body's been through a lot. Let's take you to the recovery room for a bit."
He grabbed my hand, and we walked through another door. The plug shifting made every step orgasmic. I don't know how I ever could have gone without this sensation of being so filled, so wonderfully full, with every nerve firing through me, the plug shifting and pushing agonizingly against my insides.
It couldn't stay like this, right? That's what recovery was for, to let it all settle down. Part of me hoped for that. A deeper, growing louder part of me was screaming for this to never end.
Part 5: Shove. It. In!
When we made it through the door, I saw a dimly lit room.
"This is the recovery room," Orlando explained. "I'm going to leave you here in the capable hands of other staff and patients. We have snacks and water over on the table if you need them, and we have ... well, lots of other things that you may need or others may need for you elsewhere around the room."
He pointed to a man with a name tag through a nipple piercing who was currently washing dildos. "That's Paul." He pointed to another who had a pup mask on and a collar, a name tag prominently etched on the bone-shaped piece dangling from the metal who was scrubbing a fuck bench. "That's John, but he likes to go by 'Spike.' He might show you why. Looks like there aren't any other patients here, so let these guys know if you need anything."
He turned to walk away and I stared around the room. I twisted and called out, "Wait!"
Orlando stopped and turned back to me, eyebrow raised.
"I want you to be my first."
Orlando grinned, though there was something else behind it, like he knew I was going to say that.
He started to walk back and replied, "Okay, Timmy." My hole clenched around the plug, like the name had caused a mini orgasm; I nearly collapsed, but he grabbed my hand. He brought me over to one of the slings. Every step my dick flexed just a bit, but it still hung down, compressed against my skin by the jockstrap. He helped me into the sling, and before I knew what was going on, he'd put my hands and legs up and cuffed them to the supports.
I wanted to stop him, to get out. I gave a feeble pull, but another part of my brain – a bigger, louder part – was taking over and told me, "This is hot, this is what you're made for, to be here, used." I stopped struggling after just a few light, half-hearted pulls.
He circled around me and flicked each of my nipples. I yelled out in pleasure, a scream. He kept circling and called out, "Yo, Spike! Get me scissors." By the time Orlando was between my legs, Spike was there with a pair of blunt scissors. Orlando proceeded to cut the jockstrap off. My cock lolled to one side, the piercings glimmering in the light and momentarily reflecting into my eyes.
Orlando handed the scissors back to him, then said, "Spike, I know you like bones. Why don't you suck his dick? He got the full package on penis enhancements, though I added a bit of my own flair."
I couldn't see Spike's face through the pup mask, but I saw his head immediately go down to my cock, and his big – really big – red tongue came out and licked all along the underside of my cock. I shuddered, and I think I came. My ass spasmed around the giant plug like it was trying to milk it, and I heard slurping from Spike. Then: I screamed. Orlando took that moment just when my hole was spasming to forcefully yank the plug out. There was no pain, only an insane heat of pleasure as that massive hunk of silicon was suddenly removed from my bowels; I felt every single bit of motion, the sensation of cool air rushing in, all while I felt every bump along Spike's tongue.
I was panting and I don't know how long I lay like that, but at some point I heard Spike: "He's a lot more sensitive than the others."
"Yeah," Orlando replied. "The system pushed pretty hard with this one, and his body responded beautifully."
Spike went back down to sucking my cock, the piercings being a new sensation on top of everything else. I felt Orlando slowly circle my hole with his fingers, flicking it and bending slightly inside. It was still open. Gaping. A hole, my brain told me. You don't care that it'll never close again, your puffy lips advertising what waits beyond. The voice in my head was me – but, not – but ... no, it was my voice. Reminding me I wanted this and I'd always been this, now my body just matched.
I heard a loud slurp and suddenly my dick was so much colder, dripping wet, the warm mouth had released it. "He's still kinda soft." Spike's breath sent chills along my cock, the tiny bit of air enhancing the cooling effect of the wetness he left behind.
"Like I said, 'my own flair.'"
"Heh. Hot."
Spike walked around to my head, and he looked down into my eyes. The black leather was bordered by blue accents, and I could only see his brown eyes and mouth. "You like that, don't you?" he asked.
I moaned. "What?"
"I said, 'you like that, don't you?' You got a massive cock, it's beautiful. Tastes absolutely amazing. Heavy, wide. Normal guys'll struggle even getting the tip in. But they won't be able to get it up. Hard. Giant cock ... soft. Limp. Never ever making it up to its full potential again, right? You're a limp-dicked slut now, and you love it, don't you?"
I moaned again. I tried to flex it. It rolled a tiny bit. I looked down at it, bending down towards my balls, thick.
He smacked my nipples. I screamed in pain/pleasure. "Answer me! You. Like. That."
I looked up at him, I nodded.
"What's that?"
"Yes."
"Louder."
"Yes! I fucking love it! Everyone will know. I can never fuck again, but my hole will always be there for anyone!"
I was so humiliated, but if I could get hard from it, I knew I would. Instead, I came again, the cum gushing between my legs from where my dickhead was aimed, pressure from the PA enhancing the pleasure, and I could feel the cum drip past my hole, every little bit of my hole. A tiny part of my brain was screaming at me that this was crazy, but Spike blew across my nipples and if they could've cum, they would've. It silenced that quiet, yelling part of my mind.
I don't think I'd ever been more humiliated. Nor more turned on.
"Come on, Spike. You gonna let that cum go to waste?" I heard Orlando. I could feel him pushing my cum up into my hole, coating my insides more.
I saw a distant, clouded look come over Spike's eyes and mouth. He sniffed. He ran around and started tonguing my crotch and cock, sucking up the cum.
"Yeah, that's right. Good doggy." Orlando stood up. "Are you ready to get fucked, Timmy?"
I just looked at him. Spike's tongue and mouth on my cock was ... fuck. How do people think straight like this? How can they hold a thought in their mind for even a moment?
"Yo! Timmy!"
That brought me out of my daze. "Yeah."
Orlando chuckled. I laid back. He must think I'm an idiot, but as humiliating as that thought was, my hole quivered at the idea, and I felt lubrication from deep inside start to leak.
I looked over when Orlando snapped in my face. "Here, Timmy. Feel." He looked up. "Oh right, you can't." He smirked at me. "Okay, just watch."
He took off his lab coat to reveal a tight, sleeveless black shirt. His pants looked tight, almost painted on, and he dragged his hand down his crotch palming his -- no, that couldn't be real. I'd seen that in those morph forums like before, but this was real life. He grinned, he must've seen my eyes. He reached his other hand over to my mouth. "You got a little somethin' there, Timmy." He wiped the drool off my face, then he smeared it over my nipples, sending me bucking into Spike's mouth. He was still palming what looked like a massive sausage stuffed in his pants.
He unbuttoned them. Trimmed pubes, no underwear. What could contain something like that? He slowly – agonizingly slowly – pulled his pants down, inverting them as he went rather than scrunching them. Each bit was a reveal of impossibly huge cockflesh. When he got at least a foot down, he paused.
"You know, your body really took a lot. I've never seen anyone able to take that level of hole modification." He reached around and ran a finger over my leaking cavern and I shuddered again, more lube leaking out onto the floor. "And your dick is a thing of beauty. But, I've done others. Bigger. Wanna see mine?"
I felt the drool drip from my mouth, but I was too gone to really care. He smirked. He continued to lower his pants, and finally the head came out. It had to be almost down to his knees. I looked up and down it. A solid 13". It was inhuman. But so was my hole now.
"Not sure if you can put it together anymore, Timmy, the neural recalibration keeps going for a couple hours after we finish in the machine. If you're still there, you should know that my dick is a nice, beefy 13.37" when fully hard. We had to do a few extra mods to the muscles around it to support the weight, but you very likely don't care about that, do you?"
Cock. The word flooded my mind. Any concept of rational thought was out the window. Stretch hole. Hoooole. Get used.
"Yeah, you're just a dumb hole now, aren't you?"
Hole. I turned red. A tiny, tiny part of me felt like it should be mad at being called dumb, but just a dumb hole made me have another anal orgasm. I loved it.
"A big, limp-dicked, big-titted hole." His smile was ... was ... fuck. I didn't care.
"Shove. It. IN!" I yelled at him.
"Not the tight-ass you were before, are you?" He walked around, and without any fanfare he drilled it in. I bucked and saw stars. Every single tiny bit of his dick I felt on my loose cunt, every single bit drawing across the layers and folds of my cavernous hole. Whatever they had done to me, I don't know how I even existed before this. My entire world was centered around my hole now.
"Hey!" Spike dropped my cock. "Do you mind? You keep pushing my head up with that log." He looked over. "Fuck, Orlando. You're really fully inside? All of it?" He put his hand just below my pecs, and I felt Orlando's cock slide under it. "Fuck that's hot. You did a number on this one."
"Yeah, but he wants it, just look at him. I finally found one I could mold to take me all the way. Glad the bosses don't look too closely."
My eyes were closed, my head was as far back as I could in the sling, I was totally slack. I tried to grip his dick but my hole in its new state just laid back there and took it. Take it. Made for taking dick. Sloppy hole. Big, dumb hole. The humiliating thoughts ricocheted around in my head, never landing, pushing everything else away, it was the only thing I could think of.
"Damn, you mind-fucked that one, too?"
My head rolled to one side as I felt Orlando keep stretching and fucking and twisting and rubbing inside me. I just heard the words, nothing landed, not against you're a hole. Any sense of embarrassment from other people seeing me was gone people should watch and know what you are.
"Paul, you know better than that. It was the standard neurological recalibration. If I happened to lean against a dial and move it accidentally more, they can't blame me for that."
I should feel ... I should feel ... I felt calm and at peace. I was serving my purpose. I was getting fucked for the very first time and my hole was loving every bit of it and my hole is my world now.
I lost track of time. I lost track of everything. Even my enhanced dick and nips couldn't keep up with the amount of sensation and heat radiating from my hole as Orlando fucked me. Eventually, I think he came. I know my hole spasmed around his at least ... fingers on one hand time. At least that many times. Big, dumb hole. I smiled.
There were more cocks. I think the receptionist was one of them. He called my hole beautiful. He caressed the edge, my puffy asslips. They kissed him back with their own lub and my attempt to close them. They didn't close. He shoved his dick in. I felt it near my stomach. It wasn't as big as Orlando's. Then I felt something else with it and I gasped, and I came from my soft dick from the pressure. I looked down: His fist and half his arm was in my hole with his dick. Then he wiggled his fingers and I felt it in my guts, my two cock piercings clinked together, and I came again.
At one point, I looked over and saw a door on one wall that had a large piece of glass in it. I saw a face up against the glass, looking. When he saw me, he quickly left. Advertise what you are.
Another person came in. Then another. At one point, four people were on me, one fucking me with a massive dildo – my abdomen bulging out from the welcome invasion – one playing with my dick, and one each on my nipples. Coherent thought was gone. Just sensation, heat, texture, pressure, pleasure.
I think one said, "His cock won't get hard."
The one with the dildo replied, "Never again."
I wanted to curl up in a ball at the idea in shame – my cock was broken – but that thought quickly popped away and a new, recalibrated one took its place: Humiliation is pleasure. Big, dumb hole. Just a hole.
"Big hole! Fuck hole! Big, limp cock! Doesn't need to get hard! Fuck me! Use me!" I blathered words, I didn't even know what I was saying, but the pleasure continued so I must have said the right thing.
At some point, the last cock pulled out. I felt empty. A massive hole. Needing to be filled. Someone brought me some cookies and water. They undid my wrists and legs. They hurt. Hurt so good.
It was Orlando. "How was your recovery?"
I looked at him, eating the third cookie.
"That good?" he asked. "You know, I feel a bit guilty. Well, not guilty. Responsible. Here." He pulled out my pants, shoes, socks, jacket, and my "I ❤️ 🐓" shirt. Seemed like it was from a lifetime ago.
"I got rid of your underwear, I don't think you can wear that kind anymore. I suggest thongs, jocks, or commando. Normal thongs won't fit your new cock, but we have some special made for guys like you. You'll also need this." He pulled out a massive butt plug, like before. This one was a little more gentle on the flare, but still easily 3" around at the neck.
"Also, here's my number." He pulled out a pen and wrote it on my palm.
"I think you've had enough recovery. It's time to go back into the real world. It'll take some getting used to. But you'll love it. Trust me, I made sure of it. I'm sure you'll get along fine. But, if you want, I would be interested in seeing you again. You're some of my best work. Think about it. Maybe call me."
He smiled and stood up, walking out of the room. I watched him go. I looked at my underwear, then the plug. I put the plug on the floor, and I squatted over it. My eyes rolled back in my head and I moaned, and then when it popped in, my pussy lips closed around it and sucked on it, like a pussy pacifier. My cock felt cold: It was maybe 9" long now, and the piercings were touching the floor, the cold transferring through.
I gingerly stood up and tested it. This plug was shorter, which meant my hole still felt empty deep inside. But I didn't have to stick my ass out quite as far. I put my socks on, then my pants and shoes. I maneuvered my penis down a pants leg. I'd have to figure something out, I was too fucking sensitive. My cock leaked down my leg. I didn't know how I'd walk like this. How I'd be able to hide it. You're on display wherever you are, people will know, that's what you were made for. I smiled. That's right, this body was made to be seen. Everyone would know what I was.
I put my shirt on, and my nips lit up, so hard, I nearly came in my pants. I managed to stop myself. Barely. I put my jacket on. If I pressed hard with my hands in my pockets, my arms kept my shirt stable, preventing it from rubbing too hard on my nipples. Nips that are made to be seen.
I gingerly walked out of the room and looked up the long staircase. I took a deep breath.
Every step was like a mini orgasm, the stretch of my legs forcing the plug to rock back and forth, rubbing against my hole. My cock in my pants shifting, the piercings rubbing up against my leg for added pressure. This was crazy but sooooo good.
I finally made it up to street level and to the bus stop. I got on the bus and sat down. I stifled a moan as the plug re-settled. An older guy stared at me. Then looked down at my leg. I'm pretty sure he saw my dickprint, his eyes went wide. I tried not to look at him or anyone else.
My eyes focused instead on the bus window across from me, the people around a blur. I looked the same ... but, different. i looked closely. Something was definitely different. My hole throbbed. I shut my eyes to stifle a moan. I opened them again and then I saw it. That's what was different: My face. Or, my expression. Staring back at me was a man who looked like he wanted – needed – to be seen. Needed to be used. And I liked it.
I got on my phone and downloaded Humpr. Made a new profile. I couldn't wait to add pics to it later. I also opened my contacts and put in Orlando's number. You know, just in case.
The bus went over a pothole and I nearly cried out from the sensation from ... everything. A guy younger than me, maybe not even old enough to drink, holding onto a pole, looked at me with concern. Asked if I needed help. I looked up to him and managed to eke out a "No." He still looked at me with concern, and then his eyes went wide. I was covering my cock at that point so I wasn't sure wha— oh. My shirt. My jacket was part-way down, and the top of the "I ❤️ 🐓" was visible, tented from my hard nipples. Made for use. Can't hide it. You want it. Everyone will know.
"Seriously, I'm fine. My stop's next, though. If you're concerned, maybe you can help me up to my apartment."
His eyes grew wider. I saw his thick Adam's apple bulge out as he swallowed.
"Uh ... yeah. Sure. I can help you out. Just in case."
I smiled, looking forward to the promise. Just a hole. Made to be used.
When the bus stopped, I gingerly stood up, and the guy swooped in and took my hand. I thanked him. I carefully got off the bus with him, bending over slightly. As the bus left, he noticed my pose and asked if something hurt.
"No. But ... I think my keys are in my back pocket. Could you grab them for me?" I looked at him with the most innocent expression I could muster.
His neck throbbed as he gulped again. "S-sure." He reached around, and I shifted slightly. His hand pushed into my plug, and I squirmed and moaned as it sent shivers through me. I expected him to back away at that.
Instead, he pushed again. I twisted and looked around at him. He was grinning. I couldn't wait for what would come next.
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