The screensaver cut out, and the screen flooded with monochrome green light. It took up the whole screen.
"Uh, I think it might be broken doc."
A moment passed before he responded, "You're seeing green, right?"
"Uh... yeah, but isn't this supposed to be arousing?"
"Think of it as a calibration. The brain responds to color in a primal, evolutionary way. I'm basically checking for any unusual affinities."
I breathed a sigh and continued to look at the screen, before it faded to yellow, then orange, then red, then... you get the idea.
After the colors came a closeup of a woman's torso. Her breasts were exposed, and her waist narrowed before ballooning out at her hips. I wasn't aroused by women, but the head cage kept my vision trained on the screen. The picture hung for around ten seconds before it was replaced by the torso of a muscular man, complete with huge pecs and a set of hard abs. I felt myself pulse, but couldn't tell how erect I was getting without line-of-sight.
Another torso replaced it, again of a man, this time lanky and thin. A snake tattoo wound it's way down his torso, and up above towards his clavicle. His pronounced V lines were very symmetrical, and a happy trail led down offscreen. I definitely felt my arousal for this guy.
The next image took me somewhat off guard; it was a closeup of a tatted guy's cock. It took me a few moments to see the same snake tattoo running down along his hip; this was the same guy as the last image. His dick was flaccid, and a nest of unkept pubes adorned his sex. The next set of images were all cocks: shaved-smooth white guys, hairy Arab men with beer-can dicks, and Black guys with curly tight pubes. Their cocks ranged from cut to uncut, and a few were erect and dripping. I felt myself being pulled in by the pictures, excited by the appearance of each one followed by anxious anticipation of the next.
The pictures changed again: I saw a wide shot of a man, sitting upright on a canopy bed. He was muscular, with big pecs and a long, rock-hard cock. He was shaved smooth, and he wore a devious smile on his handsome face. I felt my mouth fill with saliva, a conditioned response from my new occupation.
What followed was a slew of male forms in various scenarios. There was a heavy-set older man showing off his hairy pits. This was replaced by a twink showing his puckered ass to the camera. Then, a guy with gauges in his ears and a PA through his cockhead, smoking weed on a couch. I felt my skin prickle with arousal.
As the images continued, I noticed they became hotter and hotter. There were virtually no more feminine forms, so maybe the TASTER was adjusting to my body's responses. The men still varied a lot in body type and age, but almost all of them included body hair now. After drooling over an Asian man's bubble butt, the next image was of a muscular stud showing his bare foot to the camera as he flexed his arms in the background. I was reminded of servicing the gym guys' feet, and I felt a perceptible increase in my heartbeat.
Next, I saw two men standing side-by-side, naked from the waist down and holding red solo cups. They wore frat t-shirts cut off at the shoulder, and were visibly intoxicated. Seeing these two frat bros sent goosebumps down my spine; I could almost believe they were those two guys who relished in embarrassing me on Monday.
The next was of two men, the older dressed in leather garb and the younger in a harness at his feet, mouth open and tongue out. The next was of a white-coat doctor inspecting a Hispanic otter's asshole, using the end of his pen to pry it open slightly. The otter wore an expression of nervousness and pleasure.
"Oh god..." I muttered. I felt a drop of precum fall onto my balls, and I raised my hand to wipe it away. Dr. Jones swatted at it.
"No touching. We can't risk a premature orgasm. Just go limp and let your body go through the motions."
The image changed to a muscle man hanging from ropes in a dark dungeon. A fully dressed bear was sticking a thick, lube-dripping dildo into his hole. His face was a mix of arousal and pain, and I found myself fantasizing about feeling something that intense.
A series of scenarios blended together: two men sucking each other off in gimpsuits, a guy deepthroating his buddy's cock over the edge of the bed, a naked man tied to a St. Andrew's Cross surrounded by onlookers, and a blindfolded guy getting spitroasted by a pair of pot-belied bears. They all served to increase the arousal in my mind, and presumably, my body. I could tell by now that my dick was filled with blood, no longer resting on my scrotum.
"Where did you get these pictures? They're hot as hell."
"No need to worry about that. Just continue."
Ok... kind of weird. But the picture changed again, showing a bearded man's face covered with milky cum and surrounded by five creamy-coated cocks. My attention was diverted.
From here on out, there were more group pictures. Guys at sex parties, guys out by the pool with their speedos around their ankles, a wall of asses getting pounded by men in their work clothes. The body hair was different on each individual, ranging from sparse tufts under their arms to a coat of fur over their chests and backs. I found myself drawn to the hairiest guys, running my eyes up and down their exposed bodies.
The acts got more and more kinky. I saw a locked, shaved smooth man in his thirties taking a fist from a tattooed Indian dom. Next, an Asian man licking a leather daddy's boot as he smoked a cigar, followed by a pair of nude men wrestling in a mud puddle. I tensed and untensed my legs, restless in the chair. The following showed a pair European guys licking each other's pits, and then a trio of thick men's asses getting eaten out by an array of smooth, thin twinks.
I didn't make the conscious effort, but my hand started to drift down towards my cock again.
"Stop!" I heard, followed by the hurried rush of Dr. Jones crossing the room. I knew that I needed to stop, but my horny brain had taken over my impulse control. Just a moment before I wrapped my hand around my own length, Dr. Jones restrained my arm.
"I'm sorry," I said, half-assed. "I just... I'm so horny..."
"Yes, well, I guess I can't expect you to have self control. It really is vital to the experiment though."
The next image flashed, featuring a strong Arab dom in sunglasses pissing on a locked cub in the forest. I pulled against Dr. Jones' arm, but he held fast.
"I'm going to have to restrain you for this to work. Is that ok?"
In my hazy state, I managed, "will I get to cum?"
"Eventually. But right now, we need to ensure you'll last the rest of the test."
"O... ok." As the screen changed again--this time a closeup of a cock and balls resting on a twink's smiling face--I could feel a cold cord wrapping around my left wrist. Then my right. A sandwich of three guys fucking each other. Then, my left wrist being pulled back up to the armrest. Two guys sucking on a beefy man's toes. My right wrist. A group of bald men in office chairs jerking each other off. I went to move my arm, but the wrist was fastened down. I tested the restraints, as the eroticism of a sexy redhead jock fucking his tennis shoe while sniffing a jockstrap overtook me. No budge. I continued to flex my arms uncontrollably as I saw more spread asses, more erect cocks, more hunky muscles, more full bellies, more sexy men who I wanted to bathe with my tongue.
Then, the screensaver returned.
"That wraps up the visual stimuli. I grabbed some materials for the tactile part; you won't know when you're about to be touched, so its very important that you focus on remaining still. Can you do that?"
"Yes," I responded hurriedly. I wanted more.
The first thing I felt was a brush against my nipple. He started slow, but began to flick the brush back and forth more quickly. It was relatively benign, though I felt a bit more tense as the stimulation ramped up. Next, he ran a thicker brush in the cavity of my armpit. I flinched at this, to which Dr. Jones flatly chastised, "Don't move."
The brushing continued, beginning to tickle. I felt the urge to jerk away, but tried my best to remain level. Even so, I giggled at the touch. He continued this way until I was a ball of nerves begging to tense up, to move away, but I couldn't.
Then, a brief pause, and then a stroke on the bridge of my foot caused my leg to jerk away.
"I'm going to have to restrain your ankles as well." I felt the cord wrap around each ankle, fastening it to the stirrup. Once Dr. Jones was finished, he turned to my other foot and stroked the whole way up my foot. I writhed, but my ankle went nowhere. He stroked again, and again, and again. I was quickly reduced to a laughing, teary-eyed mess."
Next came the cock and balls. This stimulation was much more typical, and I managed to endure the brush's manipulations until the doctor had decided that was enough. Then, a quick soft feeling against my hole. My cheeks clenched, but with my legs elevated and spread, my hole was still easily accessible. He continued, adding pressure and stroking down the length of my asscrack. It felt so erotic, I used all of my strength to try and break my hands free of their restraints, to no avail.
Next, I felt a prickling feeling down my leg. It was like a line of pins running up and down my legs. When he reached the back of my knee, I tensed with my whole body. He didn't seem discouraged, though, and continued to run the tool along my form. When he got to the sensitive part of my foot, I devolved into a panting, pleading mess. "Fuck that feels... so good. Please... please..."
"Then the stimuli are working. Please, try to contain yourself." As he said that, I felt the pinpricks move to my torso, spotting my body with acute sensory input.
"Huhhh... unhh..." As much as I wanted to comply with the doctor's orders, I felt the grip on my sanity slipping. The wheel of pins continued to run all over my body until I was convinced he'd pricked every inch of my body. Twice.
"Alright, well, I guess you're beyond sense. That's fine. Just focus on the stimuli." And with that, he ran the wheel up my cock.
The doctor continued for another agonizing minute, torturing my dick with the small pricks. Until, finally, he ceased. I took the few moments to breathe deeply, settling my body after the assault on my senses.
I felt a coolness spread over my hot hole. Now that I think about it, my whole body felt hot. I was almost sure that I was covered in sweat, and I was moaning at the attention to my ass. Then, I heard the doctor moving something along the concrete floor. A second later, I felt a firmness pressing against my cool, slick hole.
"Ready for insertion?"
"Uhhh... huh...."
The doctor moved the thick, solid toy inside my hole. My muscles contracted around the object, but the doctor continued to press it inside. I cringed and moaned and whimpered, but in reality I felt only pleasure.
Then, I heard a mechanical whirring. The object pulled out to the entrance of my hole, then rhythmically returned to the deep crevices inside me. It took me only a moment to associate the whirring with a fuck machine, a tool I only knew about through kinky gay pornos.
"Hnggggg... guhhh...Hnggggg... guhhh...Hnggggg... guhhh..." I moaned in rhythm with the fuck-bot. "Moreeee..."
"Give it a minute," he assured absentmindedly.
"Uuugh..."
The fuck machine carried on with its mission, pressing up against my prostate and squeezing more precum out of my cock. I calibrated my thoughts with the downstrokes, letting the machine direct my arousal. The pulsing of my cock was in time with the thrusts, and I could tell I was hard as steel. Eventually the rate jumped up, almost doubling the previous speed. I tried to adjust to this pace, attempting to ground myself in it's pattern, but as the speed increased and increased I lost more and more control, until I was once again a whimpering mess. I started to babble gibberish, asking the machine to fuck me hard, asking for it to go deeper and pleasure me more. But just as I felt my anal orgasm mounting, the speed dropped, then dropped again, and finally stopped at the edge of my hole. Dr. Jones removed it, to my dismay.
"No, more, I want more, please, please, I need it, I-"
"The tactile part is done, we're moving on to olfactory. I promise, you won't be missing the tactile phase after this. At least, according to preliminary results."
"O...Olfactory? Like, smells?"
"Yes. Like I said, I think you'll be more than satisfied."
The screen came alive again, this time showing a full body shot of a naked guy against a white background. He was muscular and smooth all over, his face set in a neutral expression. His cock stretched down below his nuts, a prominent ridge separating the peachy shaft from the light pink head. Then, I heard a robotic voice in my ears, like a pair of noise cancelling headphones.
"Johnny. 33. Bodybuilder. Worn briefs."
I heard a hiss of gas and felt a cool rush against the back of my neck. Then, my nose filled with light, sweaty musk. I couldn't believe it: I was staring at a full nude of this guy as my senses were flooded with his scent. I immediately forgot about the fuck machine, and focused on filling my nasal passages with the smell. Before long, a built-in fan blew air to evacuate the head cage of his scent.
Then, the image shifted. Another full nude of a man against the same white background. I guess that was the norm for the smell test. He was tan and tatted, and I noticed... the snake tattoo! This was that hot punk from before! His big bushy cock quickly excited me, and I moaned at the sight of him.
"River. 25. Musician. Worn boxers."
The new smell hit me, heavy and funky. I could tell he had a nest of pubes from just the smell. I could smell his ass too, a bit sweaty and spicy. I could almost taste his sweet, puckered hole. Then, the fan turned on again, and I eagerly awaited the next guy. A muscular bear with a big belly and a short, flaccid cock appeared.
"Adam. 44. Firefighter. Worn t-shirt."
The TASTER piped in the distinct smell of open arms was musky pits. There was a faint smell of deodorant and fabric softener, but also a deeper husky scent. I felt my cock pulse.
"Saad. 36. Professional dominant. Worn socks."
I recognized him as the watersports dom in sunglasses. His huge uncut cock was half-erect, with a rosy head peaking out from his brown foreskin. As the smell filled the cage, I relished in the view of this sexy dominant man. Unlike the others, who stood neutrally, he flexed his biceps at the camera. His expression was more pointed; it made me want to serve him.
"Josh. 21. Student. Cumrag."
The goofy frat bro stared back at me. His erect six inches curved up to the left. He was giggling in the photo, giving him a playful vibe. I felt the olfactory sample rush behind me, soon swarming my nose with the stale, salty smell of his dried cum. I drooled, wishing that he'd use my face as his cumrag.
Then, an all-too familiar face. A face I'd been thinking about a lot over the past couple days. The face of a man I could not wait to smell. I felt intense energy building up in my pelvis. My cock strained as my balls pulled up towards my body, only held down by the silicone cup which gripped them.
"Matt. 27. Personal Trainer. Worn jockstrap."
As the smell of Matt's sweaty, musky balls filled the chamber, I felt myself approaching the edge of my orgasm. I studied the image of him like it was life or death. His wide shoulders, his developed arms, his thick thighs, and finally the lax, large, uncut cock perched atop his big, pendulous balls. His chest was blessed with hair, radiating outward from his sternum. Lower, his thick happy trail led to his trimmed pubes, a neat triangle of dark brown hairs that framed his uncircumcised dick. As I breathed in his sweat-soaked jockstrap, laden with his precum and gym-stimulated pheromones, I relinquished control of my body to the intense, body shaking orgasm that took hold. I flexed against my restraints and grunted loudly, my eyes trained on Matt's masculine face. I felt my cock pulse once, then twice, then my load erupted from my urethra, splattering my abdomen with thick hot cum. I called out with reckless abandon. I pulsed again and felt sticky globs hit my chest and shoulder. Finally, a series of smaller releases coated my cock and balls, bathing them in my own warm fluid. I heaved deeply, completely wrecked from my incredible orgasm.
As I felt the cum melt on my body and run down my flanks, the fan once again turned on and the image of Matt's nude body was replaced by the TASTER screensaver. I felt Dr. Jones run a cloth over my body, cleaning up my cum.
After a minute, he opened the hatch on the head cage. I narrowed my eyes at the light in the room, and saw Dr. Jones standing over me.
"Well, I've learned a few things. I need leg and arm restraints, and something to catch the semen. I'm going to have to wash these electrodes."
I stared dumbly, letting my eyes adjust. "Sorry, I didn't know that would happen..."
"It's alright. An oversight on my part. If I subject someone to erotic stimuli, it's not reasonable to expect them not to have an orgasm. I really didn't think you would reach orgasm hands-free."
"Well, did I do it? Was it enough data?"
Dr. Jones paced back over to a computer. I thought about joining him, but I was still tied down to the TASTER.
"Yes, it looks like it got enough data to give preliminary results. To get a better read, multiple sessions might be better, but for now I can conclude with 80% certainty, plus or minus 10%, that you would agree to administer anti-Andro agent."
"You can tell that just from what makes me aroused?"
"In a way. But more accurately, the response of your entire body. Your biological functions indicated that many of the stimuli were not preexisting affinities of yours, but they also did nothing to hinder your infatuation. Rather, you remained open to various stimuli: in other words, you're curious. That is a significant factor in certainty calculation, and those that display such openness are more likely to accept service roles where surprises and disruptions in the routine would not deter them from fulfilling to duty. In my new classification rubric, I want to move away from factors like socioeconomic status and personal life, favoring curiosity and bravery instead. And, given that you did accept the offer, this preliminary result doesn't disagree with what we already know. In short: it works."
"Cool. Care to untie me?"
Dr. Jones made his way over and clipped each of the four cords with a pair of shears. I flexed my muscles in the chair, shaking off the pins and needles. Dr. Jones turned back to results on the computer. It was angled away from me, but I saw the lines of data returning in the reflection of his glasses. I looked down at my body, seeing my cock deflate. Beads of cum still hung in my bush, pearly white against my brown hair.
"Uh, can I ask a question?"
"Maybe," he responded, eyes still on his computer.
"I recognized one of those guys. Matt, he was a personal trainer at SkyGym. Why would he take a picture like that of himself? And how did you get it?"
Dr. Jones swiveled around in his office chair. "He didn't take the picture, we did."
"We?"
"The Water's Bridge team. Months ago, I mean. Here, let me show you the other pictures."
He turned to a different computer, searching files until he found what he was looking for.
"Here, this is your guy. Taken a month before the one you saw in the TASTER."
Another image of Matt opened on the screen. Like the other photo, he was standing against the white backdrop. What was different, though, was his massive cock. It was engorged and sticking straight up, ruddy red all over. What's more, there seemed to be a pockmarked rash around his arms and stretching towards his chest. His expression was as neutral as before, though a slight cringe in his features betrayed his pain.
"Andro," I remarked.
"Yes, all of the pictures and scents I used for the TASTER were of previous patients, ones Water's Bridge treated before the vector procedure went public. They were selected for one of our--sorry, their--studies. All presented with advanced stages of Andro and worked in sectors at high risk of skin-to-skin contact. Remember when I said the initial stages of the program were conducted by prisoners? Well, these men were the beneficiaries of those efforts. The patients provided material containing the men's fluids for study, which is why I have samples of their chemical makeup that I can replicate on demand. Essentially a sequenced genome for their scents."
Woah. So Matt had Andro. I bet that was why he agreed to help Vettera roll it out: he knew that the benefits outweighed the weirdness, because he'd already come to terms with that months ago.
"Do you have their permission to use their info like this?"
Dr. Jones seemed genuinely upset by this question, like he had been afraid of it coming up. "They all signed a waiver when they joined the study allowing Water's Bridge to use their information on further research. This applies... in a way. And besides, I was pressed for resources. These files were on hand. But, just to be safe, don't tell your friend what happened here. Yet again, I'm trusting you Mr. Bray."
More secrets, joy. The rest of my visit with Dr. Jones was rather uninteresting. He gave me a replacement pair of clothes, and offered me a shower before I drove back home. Getting a whiff of my musky pits, I decided to decline his offer. He showed me out, but not before giving me his personal contact. "If you ever find someone to 'do something', give me a call. I'm eager to help, I really am. That's why I'm doing this research. I'm just not the person to lead it."
"I understand. Thank you, for answering my questions and... yeah. Thank you." I walked away and Dr. Jones closed the door behind me. The sun hung low, I stepped into my car, only now feeling the exhaustion from Dr. Jones' test. I rested my head against the steering wheel. The image of Matt still swam around in my mind, along with the deeply satisfying musk of his jockstrap. It was everything I'd been imagining and more. I felt bad for the guy: Andro was not comfortable, at least according to the few patients I'd met through the course of my Masters thesis. And yet, we're to believe the answer is this crazy extortionist government conspiracy.
"Someone to do something," I mused to myself. I put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road for my long trip home.
