Anton discovers you shouldn’t play with a masturbation machine unless you know what you’re doing.
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Wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit, Donald sat at the table eating his lobster thermidor. Opposite him was a man and his lawyer. Donald’s cell phone rang.
“Would you excuse me a moment. This is my emergency ring. Mind if I check who it’s from?”
“Of course not Donald,” his dinner guest said graciously.
Donald took the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was from Anton, the son of his live-in partner. He frowned. The young man had never called him before.
“Would you forgive me, it’s my partner’s teenage son. He never calls. I’ll be back in a moment.”
His guests smiled and nodded.
“You take your time Donald. We have this lovely bottle of wine to enjoy.”
It was a $500 bottle, and the meal was on Donald. He smiled and walked from the table to the restaurant foyer. It was a video call. He pressed answer and Anton’s face appeared on the screen. He had a pleasant, roundish face, with a rosy complexion, and topped with dark, loosely curly hair. The camera was at a strange angle above his head and he was looking up at it. Then Donald realised why it was strange. The boy was laying on his stomach with the camera in front of him.
“Anton, is everything alright? You know that I’m having a very important dinner with a client.”
The boy grimaced.
“N… no Donald. I’m in trouble.”
“What’s wrong boy are you in pain?”
“Promise you…. Unnnng!”
“Are you all right boy?”
Anton grimaced and grunted for a few seconds.
“Promise you won’t get angry?” he said, his tone a little more strained than before.
“I can’t promise without knowing what it is. Now are you going to tell me why you’ve disturbed my meeting, so that I can help you?”
Anton looked nervous but there was something else. He appeared to be shirtless.
“I… I tried out your machine,” he admitted.
“The one in my laboratory?”
Donald owned a vast, sprawling mansion. He had fallen for Anton’s mother after she had shown him kindness in an hour of need. Even though he was twice her age, she was struggling to raise a teenaged son alone, so when he invited her to move in to live as his platonic partner, it was an easy decision for her to make.
“Yes,” Anton replied.
“The one I expressly told you never to touch?”
“Yes,” he replied in a small voice.
“You and I are going to have a conversation when I get home young man.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’m stuck. It won’t let me out. I can’t turn it off.”
“No, it’s not designed to be user operated, and it’s still incomplete. I haven’t programmed the Stop button. I assume you activated it using the handset?”
“At the moment, the only way to stop it is by doing a sequential manual shutdown.”
“What does that mean? How do I do that?”
“You can’t. Not from where you are. I um, suppose it’s, um, stimulating you as we speak?”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s making you cum? Keeping you horny?”
Anton paused and blushed. It made his ruddy complexion turn crimson He looked like a Christmas cherub.
“How many times?”
“I dunno. I lost count. Maybe 20. More probably.”
“Hmmm. I imagine you’re feeling more than ready to stop then. Lift the camera up so I can see how your body is positioned.”
Anton lifted the phone so that it aimed down his body towards his lower half. The top half of his body was lying face-down on a padded table
His legs were also on padded arms, but they moved outwards on two pivots near his belly button. They were turned outwards to the sides, forcing his thighs vey wide apart, although his legs still bent at 90 degrees at each knee. A padded restrainer pressed down on the small of Anton’s back, keeping him pinned to the table like an insect on a collector’s board.
Anton rested on his forearms, looking pitifully up at the camera. And most revealing of all was the fact that he was completely naked.
“You can’t slide down towards the bottom, underneath the restraining arm?” Donald asked.
“Not with my legs apart like this.”
“No, I don’t suppose so. What about sliding upwards?”
“The thing on top is holding me tight.”
Anton moved the camera back in front of his face and whispered conspiratorially.
“And it’s holding my balls.”
“So how do I stop it?”
“You don’t stop it. It’s not designed for user operation. I didn’t get around to building a Cancel function into the remote yet.”
“So what do I do?” Anton asked, becoming increasingly alarmed.
“There’s nothing you CAN do. You’ll have to wait for me to come home. Or you can call the police and have them find you like that. That would be very embarrassing for both of us.”
“How soon can you get home?”
“I’m in the city. That’s at least two hours and I’m sorry but I cannot afford to curtail my meeting. It’s too important. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
“Plus my meeting.”
“I’ll never last two hours. I’m already going…”
Donald looked down at his phone. He waited a minute then called Anton’s number. It went straight to answer phone. He frowned, then returned to his dinner appointment.
Four and a half hours later, Donald walked into his laboratory. Anton lay on his stimulation table in the same position as he had last seen the boy. The teenager looked pitiful. Like a frightened animal trapped beneath a log. But Donald had zero sympathy. The damned kid had expressly been instructed to stay the hell away from his equipment. Seven hours of non-stop extreme stimulation would not kill the kid but it would certainly scramble his brain and his nuts for a while, and it would be a lesson he would not soon forget.
Donald walked over slowly, his dodgy leg slowing him to a shuffle. He stood in front of Anton, then lowered himself carefully to a knee. The boy was thoroughly subdued. He looked back with dark, nervous, puppy-dog eyes.
“How are you doing boy?”
“N…N…Not so good. Phone battery d… died. Can you please turn it off n…now?”
“What did I tell you about not touching this machine?”
“You s…s…s…said don’t.”
Anton was having trouble speaking. It was hard to have a conversation in the middle of a powerful orgasm. He grimaced.
Donald looked under the table. Two inches of penis protruded downwards, topped by a dark purple head.
“And yet what is that I see poking out beneath my machine?” Donald asked in his elegant New England accent.
At first Anton didn’t understand what Donald was driving at. He frowned.
“M…my dick?” he ventured.
“Yes, your dick. And what’s it doing in my machine?”
Donald spoke slowly, in no rush to curtail the boy’s misery.
“Sorry. I w…oo…wanted to try it out.”
“Yes, that’s perfectly evident. You’re a horny mutt. Most teenage boys are. I should have guessed you’d do something like this the first chance you got.”
Anton grimaced strongly.
“Good one?” Donald asked.
Anton didn’t answer.
“Tell you what, why don’t I leave you here just a little longer while I make a cup of coffee. Maybe the extra time will teach you the lesson that you are not to touch my things when I specifically forbid it.”
“Nooo,” Anton begged, his voice choking. “Please. No more.”
Donald stood and walked from the room.
Eight hours earlier
“I’ll be in the city until about midnight. No later. Williams will be with me, and it’s Molly’s night off so try not to get into any trouble. Please don’t have any friends over while I’m not here.”
“No problem Donald, it’s not my first time on my own you know!”
Donald smiled indulgently.
“Of course it’s not Anton, but it’s your first time in MY home. Do indulge an old man his worries won’t you son?”
Anton gave Donald a beaming smile.
“Sure thing, but you have nothing to worry about. Enjoy your meal.”
“I’m certain it will be productive son. Have a pleasant evening.”
Donald patted the boy on the shoulder paternally, then he slowly shuffled out to the car where Williams, his driver and general man-servant was waiting.
Anton waited half an hour just to be sure that Donald was gone before he crept into the man’s lab. He knew about the masturbation machine. He’d seen it several times and Donald explained the basics of what it did, if not the specifics of how it accomplished it.
“What’s it for?” he’d asked.
“It’s for men of a certain age who cannot achieve an orgasm in the usual way. It produces extremely intense orgasms. After a couple of sessions on this machine, the hope is that it will reactivate a man’s lost libido.”
“It’s another word for feeling horny. I’m sure you know all about that at your age?”
Anton looked to the ground shyly.
And now Anton was alone with the machine. He picked up the remote. It was simple enough. There were just three buttons: Calibrate, Stop, and Start. He took off his clothes. It felt strange to be naked in Donald’s lab and if Donald came in now, he’d never be able to excuse himself. Anton brushed the thought away and clambered up onto the machine. There was a table for him to lay on his chest, but once he was laying down, the lower half felt more like a motorcycle with his legs on 45 degree rests either side of a central void. His penis dangled down in between.
He took a deep breath and pressed the Start button. Donald’s voice came out of a speaker.
“Stimulator not calibrated for new user. Press Start to use previous calibration or Calibrate to calibrate for new user.”
“Hmmm, I wonder if Donald will know I messed with his settings if I choose calibrate for new user?” Anton pondered.
He decided that as Donald was unlikely to be using it on himself, having lost his testicles to cancer a few years ago. As a result, he was likely to recalibrate it each time he used it. He pressed the Calibrate button.
A series of blue scanner lights swept over Anton’s naked body, measuring his dimensions and the location of his hip joints, as well as the size and position of his genitals.
“Calibration complete.” Donald’s voice announced. “Press Start to begin.”
Anton took a deep breath. He was horny and eager to begin, but he had no idea what to expect. He pressed Start.
A large retaining arm with a padded base lowered over the small of his back and pinned his waist to the table. The padded base wrapped around his waist, preventing him from twisting to either side.
Soft restraints circled around his legs just above his knees, clamping his legs to the leg rests, then the leg rests, started to raise and open. Anton was nervous. There was nothing he could do to adjust his lower body. He hovered his finger over the Stop button in case the leg rests tried to part his legs too wide. At 135 degrees they stopped moving and Anton relaxed.
“Loosening scrotum,” Donald’s voice announced.
Anton felt a gentle jet of warm air blowing on his testicles. It continued for minutes and Anton disappointedly wondered if this was the full extent of the machine’s capabilities. Then the air stopped voice said, “Securing testicles.”
“Securing testicles! What the fuck does that mean?!” Anton wondered.
He didn’t like the sound of it. He was extremely apprehensive of anything in relation to his nuts. He’d caught a baseball in the nuts when he was 12 and it had put him in bed for almost two weeks. Now he didn’t take any chances whatsoever. He felt something soft gripping his nut sack, then gripping his left nut. That was it. He pressed the Stop button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again. Still nothing. He could feel the machine gripping his right nut now. He stabbed at the button repeatedly.
“Stop you stupid machine!”
It failed to comply with his commands, and now he could feel his testicles being pulled downwards. Visions of them being torn from his body flashed into his mind. He squirmed to get free of the machine, but it was only now that he realised how completely having his legs so wide apart restricted his ability to twist his body. He tried to reach past the arm that pinned him down but from the rear, he could not put either of his hands deep enough to reach his now stretched testicles.
He felt his testicles moving backwards and forwards as the machine gently established their range of movement within his scrotum.
It was a very disturbing thought that the lower half of his body was completely isolated from his upper half. He was free to move his arms and head as normal, but he had no ability to prevent whatever was destined to happen to genitals. His wide-spread legs made him feel totally vulnerable. Then the testicle manipulators stopped moving.
“Inserting anal stimulator,” Donald informed him.
“Anal? That meant his butthole!” Anton thought with alarm.
No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he felt two rubber retractors gently pulling his buttocks apart. A lubricated probe, just half an inch in diameter pressed with perfect accuracy against his hairless sphincter. He tensed but it slid easily up inside him, stopping only when it reached his prostate. The entire length of the probe was covered with ridges, and Anton felt his sphincter fluttering with unexpected arousal as the probe bumped its way into him. He felt a tingling deep inside and his penis grew hard, pointing downwards between the pivoted leg restraints.
“Erection achieved. Commencing stimulation cycle,” Donald’s voice announced.
The grips that held his testicles started shaking up and down, each travelling a quarter inch in each direction, but vibrating at ten oscillations per second. Anton gasped in shock, but far from being painful, the sensation was instantly and incredibly arousing. He would never have thought of his nuts as a source of please, but now that they were being shaken, he could never imagine anything else comparing in terms of its erotic intensity.
In his asshole, the lubricated probe started pumping in and out of him. The sensation was not as intense as the one in his nuts but it sent a different type of pleasure waves surging through him. Then he realised – he was being fucked by the machine. It was an unsettling thought, but what could he do but wait for it to complete its cycle?
In under a minute, Anton ejaculated hard, firing his semen at the large glass collection tray positioned beneath the machine. He gasped as he came, and momentarily collapsed from his forearms to his face, overwhelmed by the powerful orgasm. His legs were pulled apart; his hole was invaded, and his nuts were shaken like a couple of ball-bearings in a ball sorter. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. He lay, stunned whilst his orgasm passed. The machine continued stimulating him; not giving his body a moment to recover. He could feel his excitement already growing again.
He wondered how long the program ran for. It was making him unbearably horny. He got frustrated at school with boners that arrived at inopportune times and stuck around for half an hour at a time, but at least they were not accompanied by this nut-churning, asshole-trembling sense of arousal. Anton would never have believed he could feel so horny.
He waited an hour before he decided that the machine was not going to stop milking him. He’d already had 22 orgasms.
He had to get out of it. He tried everything he could imagine. Taking the batteries out of the handset and switching them around, pressing different button combinations, addressing the machine directly as though it was voice controlled, squirmng against the restraint. Nothing helped.
He looked at his phone. He put it in on the bench in case of emergency. He had a number of options: he could phone his mother at the hospital where she was currently working the night shift. That was out of the question. The thought of her finding him in this state was intolerably embarrassing. He could call the police or ambulance, but he ruled them out for the same reason. That just left Donald. It would be humiliating to admit his disobedience, and far more humiliating to be found in this position, but it was the least-worst option. At least Donald was a scientist who worked in the field of human sexuality. It would be kind of like visiting the doctors.
He waited another hour and 25 orgasms before finally deciding to go through with his decision. He picked up the phone and called Donald…
90 minutes after he had returned home to find Anton being milked by his machine, Donald ambled slowly back into the laboratory holding a cup of coffee.
“Sorry I took my time; I got distracted by the news. Do you know a category 2 hurricane is going to hit Miami? I hope it doesn’t swing north.”
Anton looked at him disbelieving. He was going out of his mind, and the man was watching the news?! He realised that Donald was deliberately tormenting him for his disobedience, and he knew that he deserved it.
“Now then, let’s see how many orgasms you’ve had.”
Donald looked at a read-out on the arm that held Anton pinned.
“Oh, 168! That’s extremely impressive. Did you know that the world record in 24 hours is just 26. I wonder if I should contact the Guinness Book of Records?”
“Donald please. I nnnnn…nuh… I know I shouldn’t have touched it but it’s d…driving me crazy.”
“Oh come on. Little bit of horniness is nothing to a healthy teenager like you. Let’s see, 168 orgasms in 7 hours, that’s um, somewhere between 2 and 3 minutes per orgasm. Have you transitioned to a continuous orgasm yet?”
Anton nodded. Donald looked at an electronic graph that recorded Anton’s brain activity.
“Ah yes, here we are, you entered it 68 minutes ago. How does it feel to have the longest continuous orgasm in history?”
Donald looked under the table and a thin trickle of semen was dribbling from Anton’s penis. He looked at the glass tray. It looked as though someone had poured two pints of semen onto it. Anton’s penis twitched and bounced, but the dribble continued.
Donald reached out and ran his finger across Anton’s glans.
“Ah, ahh, stop!” the boy yelled.
Donald stood up.
“A little sensitive are we?”
Anton nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, we were surprised to discover that the testicles could be stimulated into increasing semen production by a thousand-fold simply by shaking them. You’re going to be severely dehydrated after this and you’ll likely have a migraine for a couple of days. I’m afraid you’re also going to have a problem with your libido for the next few months; even a year or more. You’ll blow your load at the drop of a hat. Even a slight breeze on your glans will do it. I think you’ll need to be careful about your choice of underwear for a while.”
“Donald pleeeease,” Anton begged.
“Still, enough talking. Let’s get you out of there.”
Donald reached up on the restraining arm and pressed a button. The machine stopped stimulating Anton. The boy collapsed to the bed, relieved.
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Language young man.”
“Sorry but… but….”
“Yes, the feeling of being stimulated won’t stop right away. It will last for some time yet.”
Donald walked behind him and moved between his legs. He looked down at the boy’s skinny waist. Anton was not a child, but he had the thin, almost frail frame of a youth who spent none of his free time engaged in sporting activities. Donald patted both of the teen’s small butt cheeks.
“Anton, Anton, Anton. What have you gotten yourself into eh?”
Anton was only too well-aware that Donald had a front row, close up view up his junk. His hard dick was pointing straight at the ground, but the shakers were stretching his nuts backwards at right angles to it.
“You look like a frog on a dissection table boy.”
Donald removed the shakers from Anton’s testicles. He looked at them and they dangled low, in a loose bag that looked as though he’d been in in the bath way too long. He cupped them both in his fingers and rolled the boy’s nuts. They were very hot to the touch.
“Who’d have thought that such small organs could produce such pleasure hmmm?”
Anton looked straight ahead. There was still nothing he could do until Donald chose to lift the restraint and release his legs. He was as vulnerable below the waist as he had been for the last 8 hours.
His testicles were still thrumming with reproductive potency as they worked like factories set to overdrive to produce the semen that still dribbled in a small but constant, slow-moving sticky stream from his penis.
“Just a head’s up Anton, your testicles will be quite different from now on.”
It still took all of Anton’s concentration to converse whilst he was experiencing a constant, mind-scrambling orgasm.
“Well, I don’t know how low your testicles hung before, but they’ll hang considerably lower from now on.”
“Hhhhhow much?” the teenager asked with a strained voice.
Although he was experiencing a non-stop orgasm, every few minutes, the intensity rose, like an orgasm within an orgasm. Those moments, lasting 10 to 15 seconds, left him light-headed at their intensity. He let out a whine as another passed through his body. Donald didn’t notice.
“How low did they hang before?” he asked.
Anton didn’t answer.
He waited a few seconds.
“Uh uhhh. Sorry. What?”
“How low did your testicles hang before?”
“I dunno,” he gasped. “N…not far. Maybe an inch or two.”
“Well I think you can expect them to hang at least 4 inches now; maybe even 6. And they’ll be much smaller.”
“How much smaller?”
“At least half their previous size, perhaps even a quarter as much.”
Anton struggled to think. The image of his nuts dangling like two tiny beans popped into his mind.
“How long. H… how long will it last?”
“How long? Son, I’m afraid it’s permanent. I warned you to stay away from my work, and now you’re going to pay the price.”
He bent Anton’s straining cock towards him with his index finger. It was rigid. He released it and it twanged back where it had been pointing. The boy’s glans was a deep purple colour, bloated and shiny. Small veins stood out along the length of his shaft, decreasing in size as they rose behind his glans.
“Donald, please,” Anton said.
“It’s a little late to get self-conscious now don’t you think son?”
Donald reached down and allowed the dribbling semen to fall onto his right index finger tip, he slowly rubbed the sticky finger in a circle over Anton’s arrow-shaped glans.
“Ahh haaaaa,” Anton yelled, but Donald ignored him.
For now, Anton had given up his right to compassion. Until he was released from the machine, he was just another test subject.
“You know your glans is really quite extraordinarily hard. I realise that young men of your age tend to get more aroused than older men, but even so, the glans usually remains considerably softer than the shaft – quite spongy in fact.”
He squeezed the teenager’s shaft between the finger and thumb of his left hand.
“Oh yes, your shaft is hard as steel. That’s really quite impressive.”
He gripped the glans again between the finger and thumb of his right hand and rubbed lightly as though he was rolling tobacco.
Anton let out a long shuddering groan.
He was starting to suspect that Donald was taking some kind of perverse pleasure out of the fact that he could torment him sexually. It somehow compensated for the fact that Donald no longer became aroused at all. It was something that Donald had once confided to him in a man-to-nearly-man conversation.
“Tell me Anton, and please be completely honest, are you gay?”
“Hmmm, well I think you may be now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, almost 8 hours of continuous prostate and sphincter stimulation may rewire your brain. You’ll find it extremely difficult to satisfy yourself without anal stimulation. After the recovery period of course. The easiest way is a penis.”
“No way! You’re fuck…” This time it wasn’t a continuous orgasm that made him stutter. He checked his language. As long as he was still locked into the machine, who knew what Donald might do? “You’re kidding,” Anton said, omitting the profanity.
“No, I’m afraid not, but it doesn’t have the stigma it once did. I’m sure you can live a perfectly happy life playing for the other team as it were.”
He slid the probe out of Anton’s rectum and Anton was disturbed by the pleasurable sensation as it bumped its way out of him, and the feeling of emptiness once it was gone.
Donald looked at the boy’s sphincter. The probe was not large enough to leave it permanently enlarged, but just the sheer amount of time it had been thrusting in and out for him left the lips of Anton’s sphincter bruised and loose, and there was a quarter-inch aperture. Donald looked inside and he could see the redness of Anton’s rectum. He pulled on a plastic glove and gently pushed his index finger inside. Anton’s inner thighs trembled at the touch.
“Oh yes, I think you’ll find it difficult to achieve this level of stimulation again without some kind of anal stimulation. There’s no shame in a homosexual relationship, but I suppose if you are uncomfortable with that, you could always come down here and use the machine. It would be under my supervision in future, but you’d be helping me with my studies as well as satisfying your needs.”
He pushed his finger in and out of Anton’s hole a few times just to see the boy’s reaction. Anton’s trembling increased and the boy let out a shuddering moan.
“Speaking of which,” he said, withdrawing his finger and stepping away, “You don’t mind if I take a few measurements before I release you do you?”
Anton’s orgasm was finally decreasing to the level where he could think more clearly. He knew that it was not a question he could decline. His legs were still pulled wide apart and he could do nothing to stop the 67-year-old man from doing almost anything he wanted. Anton crossed his arms on the table beneath his head, and rested his head on them, turning it to the side, waiting now for Donald to finish whatever he was going to do. He watched as the man shuffled over to a set of drawers and rummaged around inside. He withdrew two objects. One was a ruler and the other was a set of plastic beads of varying sizes connected to each other along a thin cord. Anton correctly assumed that they were something to do with his testicles.
Donald shuffled back behind him. Anton felt the old man pressing the base of the ruler against the top of his pubis and against his penis.
“4 inches annnd three quarters,” the man said to himself.
He wrote the word “Anton” in slow, perfect cursive on top of a sheet of paper, then wrote beneath it, “Penis – Erect 4 ¾”
“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to allow me to measure when you are flaccid?” he asked. “For comparison.”
“I just want to get out of this thing and go to bed,” Anton murmured sulkily.
“I’ll take that as a maybe then.”
Donald put the pen down and picked up the plastic beads, then he lightly gripped Anton’s left testicle. His scrotum was quite extraordinarily withered: not so much cold-shrivelled, it was more like the scrotal skin of a nudist after a day playing on the beach in 100-degree weather – droopy, soft and thin, yet moist and bumpy.
Donald compared various plastic balls against Anton’s left testicle. None of them was a perfect match.
“Hmmm, 8 millilitres.”
He measured the right.
“A little smaller. 7 mils. Of course, they’ll get quite a bit smaller over the next couple of weeks.”
Anton listened quietly. He felt like a specimen in a lab.
“One last question, and please be honest with me again: how many times a day do you usually masturbate?” Donald asked.
“None of your business,” Anton answered sulkily.
“No problem. I’ll just reconnect everything and we can stimulate you for another 8 hours then.”
“No don’t!” Anton said alarmed. “I’ll tell you I’ll tell you! It’s two. Sometimes three. Except at weekends.”
“How many times at the weekends?”
“More,” was all Anton would admit to.
Donald wrote the figures on his chart, then finally came the thing that Anton had been waiting for. Donald pressed a button on the restraining arm and Anton’s leg’s closed. A second button lifted the restrainer and then Anton was free at last.
The insides of his thighs ached from being pulled apart for so long, but he immediately rolled onto his back and sat up, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
“Careful, you’re likely to be weak and a bit woozy from so long on the stimulator, and after so many orgasms.”
Anton stared at Donald with his puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that young man. I warned you not to mess with things that don’t concern you, but you ignored me.”
“Yeah but you didn’t have to leave me on there so long once you got home.”
“I felt it was the best way to express to you my displeasure. You and your mother are guests in my house, and you went against my express instructions not to touch my equipment. An extra hour of stimulation was the very least that you deserved.”
Anton wanted to tell him how brain-frying a continuous orgasm lasting well over an hour was. How it almost stopped him from thinking at all. How he was reduced to nothing but his asshole, his vibrating nuts, and his pumping dick.
But he couldn’t. He knew he had no right to complain.
“I felt like an animal in a science lab,” he said lamely.
“I’m sorry, but once you were here, the opportunity to collect data was just too good to miss. I don’t suppose I’ll ever have another teenaged boy to study, and I’m certain that I’ll never get someone who will volunteer to be stimulated for 8 hours!”
“I didn’t volunteer for that,” Anton said sulkily.
“Then you should not have touched things that you have been warned away from.”
Anton couldn’t argue with that. He looked down at his groin. He assumed that his huddled position hid his genitals but in fact they were plainly visible to Donald from the bottom of the table.
Semen dribbled down the back of the boy’s penis and off his scrotum onto the table.
“How long will…”
It was not his continuing orgasm that robbed him of his words now. Anton was shy about sexual talk. Even when Donald had confided to him his own emasculation, whilst Anton felt very adult that the man had trusted him with the information, he also felt self-conscious to be having the conversation
“How long will I still be hard?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Usually 15 minutes to an hour, but I never had anyone go 8 hours before. If you still have an erection in the morning, let me know. In the meantime, I think it’s best if we keep this entire incident to ourselves. Unless you want to inform your mother?”
Anton pursed his lips into a tight oval at the thought. Nobody else must ever know about this! He shook his head curtly.
“Good. I think that’s for the best. If you experience a lot of pain, I can give you something to help. I AM a fully certified doctor after all. I’m going to need to examine you a couple of times over the next few months just to make sure there are no permanent injuries.”
“What about my nuts?”
“That’s not an injury. They’ve just produced over a decade’s-worth of sperm in one day. They won’t grow bigger but you can still father children normally if that’s your concern. Although you’ll get aroused very easily, I don’t think you’ll be in the mood for any sort of, um, solo activity for a great many months.”
Anton looked at him puzzled and Donald made a masturbation gesture. Masturbation was the absolute last thing Anton cared about at the moment.
He turned and lowered his legs off the table. His penis was facing towards his head. He covered it with his hands, pulling it to his belly.
“Bit late for modesty,” Donald said.
Anton turned and looked at him, thinking about what the man had said. He dropped his hands and allowed his rigid cock to spring free. He looked at Donald, daring him to comment about his small dick. Donald smiled. There was a defiant attitude to the teenager that he really found endearing.
Anton slid off the table and his legs buckled under him, but he saved himself by reaching back to the padded table.
“Whoa, easy Anton! I told you your legs will be wobbly for a while. You can’t orgasm that many times and expect to walk normally.”
He was right. It was more than the bloodless, stretched muscle, pins-and-needles feeling of having his legs pulled apart for so long. His inner thighs were completely robbed of all strength, as though all the muscles in his groin were completely exhausted. Anton tottered over to the clothes he’d left in a pile, walking as cautiously as Donald usually did. He pulled on his Tshirt, then his hoody jacket. His dick was still leaking. He pulled up his grey briefs. Before he got as far as pulling his jeans up, there was a large dark patch on the front of his briefs. He looked at it with disgust, stuffing his erection inside his jeans. It rested to the left side like an incriminating wagging finger, pointing to te wet patch now seeping through the denim.
Anton looked back towards the table. Underneath was the tray containing all of his semen. It was awash with his jizz.
Donald followed his eyes and looked at the glass tray.
“Yes, it’s quite incredible that you can produce so much. You can clean that out tomorrow. You must be very thirsty.”
Anton nodded and Donald shuffled over.
“Let’s go to the kitchen and get you something to drink.”