The Light – Part 5 – Conclusion

Abduction, forced milking, mystery

A father and son have an alien encounter

Patrons can access downloadable PDFs of most stories, 4K versions of many images, and content that I choose not to publish publicly here

Please consider donating to my Patreon in order to receive access. Click here to find out more.

 

The Light – Part 5

Harry lay on his living room settee wearing just his underwear. It did nothing to hide his enormous flaccid genitals. Now that he understood the precise schedule of his cycles, he no longer wore diapers around the house.

He was drenched in sweat, barely keeping his eyes open. His mother ran her fingers through his damp hair.

“You look exhausted darling. You’d be better off in bed.”

“It’s only nine o’clock. I can’t go to bed this early.”

“How many times did Sleepy come today?”

“All of them.”

“Oh Harry, you must be utterly shattered.”

“Yeah, I am.”

 

His body had settled into an implant-controlled routine. First cycle from 8-9am, with a 102-minute break, then another hour-long cycle, another break, and so on, with the sixth cycle finishing at 8.50pm.

There were three cycles, each of them utterly debilitating in their own way. Harry’s family had names for them; Fatso, Sleepy, and Sam; and the family acted as though they were unwelcome guests.

The first was the edging cycle, which consisted of being elevated to the very limits of their body’s orgasmic threshold, closer to an orgasm than either Harry or his father would have imagined possible; then held there, unable to satisfy what was an overwhelming need for release.

The implants stimulated more perfectly than an entire team of bordello experts, arousing the primary erogenous zones reactively, adjusting their programs in response to Harry and Steven’s arousal. And they had one enormous advantage over human or mechanical stimulants; the implant in their brains. Not only did it control the other five, but it also directly fed their brains’ erotic imagery that could not be blocked out or ignored; imagery that had been tuned over the past two years, for optimal arousal.

In fact, the aliens were not attempting to modify their unwilling subjects’ sexuality; that was simply a byproduct. They discovered centuries ago, that males had a greater empathy for the sexual sensations and emotions of other males like themselves, so, paradoxically, while most of their subjects were not homosexual, feeding them same-sex erotic imagery produced a far greater level of arousal. Their computers ran through a series of test sequences, quickly honing down on the kind of imagery that would produce the optimal stimulation.

For Harry, he was frequently in an orgy, being fucked by an endless queue of cool boys about his age or a little older, while he fellated still more.

For his father, he was fucking bears, body-builders, soldiers, and other alpha-types, while they all submitted to him, massaging his cock with their willing assholes.

Each of their digitally created fantasies was crafted to meet their own personality traits. Harry, the gentle submissive; competitive yet accommodating. It played off his adolescent need to be accepted, and to be perceived as one of the guys.

His father was a masculine, take-control guy who was more comfortable giving orders than receiving them.

 

Not only was this cycle exhausting, but an hour of constant stimulation with no release made their testicles swell, sometimes to as much as 50% larger. It was this swelling that prompted Harry and his father to name the edging cycle Fatso.

 

The second cycle was the most tiring, and the messiest: constant arousal, interspersed by orgasms every two minutes. Harry recognised this cycle immediately. It was the one that had caught him out so often the first week, surprising him with how quickly his body could elevate from complete disinterest to ejaculation. It was accompanied by an endless stream of orgasmic imagery. They footage was constantly being adjusted and refreshed, drawn from millions of pornographic videos being analysed by the alien central computer, timing the constructed scenes in their heads so that the protagonists always ejaculated at precisely the same time as Harry or his father. The age of video had enabled to aliens to quickly acquire a vast library of sexual references, ensuring that their sophisticated programs were unimaginably more effective than the ones they used when they first arrived and started harvesting human sperm.

 

This was the cycle that Harry experienced at a massively higher ratio than his father, experiencing as many as 180 orgasms in a single day if he was particularly unfortunate, as he was today. His mom called it Sleepy because she said that he looked like Sleepy from Snow White after one of these cycles. Even just one visit from Sleepy was enough to leave him weak, trembling, and unable to perform any other physical activities before the next cycle.

 

The third cycle was the only one that either of them would describe as tolerable, although it was still an ordeal. It comprised of eight minutes of slow-building arousal, with a final minute of intense stimulation, concluding with an earth-shattering one-minute-long orgasm that left them as helpless as newborn babies.

Harry had a still-healing scar on his chin that could attest to that fact. Recently, standing over the toilet bowl, he had literally passed out, falling and smashing his chin on the cistern on the way down, biting his tongue and hitting his head on the ceramic bowl with his head bouncing like a pinball off every object on the way down.

His mother came running when she heard his cries from the bathroom.

“Moooom!”

She tried to enter, but the door was locked.

“Unlock the door!” she shouted.

He complied and she entered the room to find him naked and sitting on the lavatory, his head and mouth drenched in blood.

“Oh my God, what happened?”

Then she noticed his left hand trying and failing to hide his erection.

“I passed out,” he said.

“Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.”

With the preliminary clean up completed, she wanted to rush him to the hospital.

“Not like this,” he said, looking at his groin. “Not while Sam is here.”

 

Sam was the name that he and his father had given to the third condition. Unlike the other two, it did not imply a specific effect of the implants. It was simply a neutral name that followed their naming schema.

 

“Harry, you’ve got a deep cut in your chin, and maybe even chipped the bone. You have another gash on your forehead that is bleeding like there’s no tomorrow and I’m worried about concussion. No matter what, you’re going to be in hospital when one of your friends is visiting. We can tell them you have a medical condition that makes you horny. It’s none of their business anyway.”

“But it’s so embarrassing mom!”

“So is dying of blood loss.”

She helped him to his feet, noting the huge puddle of cum that had hosed the bathroom floor, utterly missed the bowl…

 

“180 times in one day. What a stud!” his sister said.

He looked at her without amusement.

She continued, “I heard one boy in class did it 12 times in a day. On his own of course. He was really proud of it. That’s nothing compared to you!”

Her mother turned to her with irritation on her face.

“Could you please stop being obnoxious. We’ve already told you; this is not a game or something to crack jokes about.”

“Yeah,” Harry added. “And you better not have told anyone.”

She didn’t reply.

“You better not,” Harry repeated more forcefully.

“Well, only Zoe and Charlotte. Oh, and Theo, Adam, and Jackson.”

Harry stared at her coldly. If he was not so exhausted, he’d have leapt up and throttled her.

“Seriously Emma?”

She maintained a serious expression for five seconds, eyes locked before cracking up.

“Course not Harry. I know how stuff like that gets around. I wouldn’t.”

“Bitch,” Harry said uncharacteristically.

“Harry!” his mother exclaimed.

He glowered at his sister.

She said, “I’m sorry Harry. I know it’s not funny for you. To be honest, it’s weird for everyone.”

“Tell me about it.”

Steven came downstairs and glanced at his son.

“Jeez Harry, we need to start feeding you better. You’re all skin and bones.”

Harry did indeed look borderline emaciated.

“Maybe it’s something to do with all the ‘exercise’,” Harry said.

Steven nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll have to speak to Doctor Lam about improving your diet. We can see if he has anything new for us at the same time.”

 

 

A few weeks later, while his father drove them to the local store for supplies, Harry spoke.

“Dad, are you afraid that we might get taken again?”

Steven looked at the traffic all around them.

“Not here Harry. Too busy. From what Mr Reyes said, the aliens don’t like to get seen when they take people.”

“But what about the roads where we live?”

Steven paused, contemplating the question.

“I have to be honest; I don’t think I’ll be going out on empty roads at night anymore.”

“No, me neither. I feel like we’re being watched all the time.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Especially with the implants.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it ever freak you out that they could just go wrong at any moment and blow our nuts off. Or our heads.”

Steven sighed deeply.

“I try not to think about it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. Like, there’s these bombs inside us all the time.”

“If it makes you feel any better champ, a lot of things could kill you any moment. You could choke on breakfast, or fall and break your neck, or we could get into a car wreck.”

“Especially with your driving,” Harry said.

Steven glanced to his side. His son was staring ahead, wearing a deadpan expression.

“Hey!” Steven protested, and a smirk emerged on Harry’s face, quickly transforming into a grin.

His father punched him on the shoulder.

“Dad, dad! Both hands on the wheel!”

Steven laughed out loud, enjoying the moment of father/son bonding. Then Harry brought the mood crashing down.

“Hey dad, do you still have sex thoughts in your cycle. You know, like fantasies I guess.”

Steven answered slowly.

“Yes, I do.”

“Gay fantasies, like the doctor said?”

“Yes.”

“Me too. Can I… can I ask what you think about?”

This was deeply personal, but Steven wanted to help his son.

“It’s pretty embarrassing. You know, as I’m straight, and I love your mom, but… but… well, I imagine myself having sex with men. You know, kind of tough looking guys.”

“Are you fu… are you the one doing it to them?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you get turned on by it?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” Harry said shyly.

“Is that what you think about too?”

“No.”

“So, what do you…”

Harry waited a long time to answer, and his father gave him time.

“I think of orgies.”

Steven smiled.

“Nice.”

“Except everyone is doing stuff to me. Screwing me. Jacking me off. And I’m sucking dicks.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think that means dad? Why do you get to be a man still, even a gay man, and I end up being everyone’s bitch?”

Steven thought about it for a long time in silence. He had a strong idea what it meant but when he spoke, that wasn’t the thought he voiced.

“They’re not our thoughts Harry. They put them in there.”

“Are you sure?”

Steven frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“What if they just made us have the thoughts we always wanted to but never knew. Or admitted?”

Steven trod carefully. The last thing his son needed was guilt.

“Is that how you feel?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I was gay before. I never even thought of guys or dicks; well, except comparing in the showers,  but now…”

“But so what? What if you have always been secretly gay, and now you’re facing up to it? Wouldn’t it be a good thing that you are now coming to terms with it?”

“I guess so, but I feel like something has been stolen from me, you know? Like I really liked thinking about girls; being with Maya.”

“Look son, I really can’t say for certain if you’ve always been straight or gay or something else, but you always seemed contented to me. Personally, I think you were straight. I think you’re still straight, but those implants are hijacking your thoughts when you’re horny.”

“Yeah.”

They drove the rest of the journey in thoughtful silence. Harry didn’t feel the need to tell his father that he even dreamed about dicks when he slept now.

 

 

“I’ve got good news,” Lam said three months later, “but control your expectations. It’s a double-edged sword.”

Steven and Harry frowned, confused.

“What does THAT mean?”

“We’ve found a way to suppress the effects of the implants.”

Harry’s eye grew wide with excitement.

“Oh, thank fu… thank God. These things have been driving me crazy. I had to get a home tutor. And a soundproof bedroom. They completely ruined my life.”

“I can only imagine, but don’t get your hopes too high. We can’t completely neutralise them, but we can kind of short circuit them.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Steven asked. “I mean, isn’t there a risk of them imploding?”

“We don’t think so. We’ve done thousands of hours of testing on live subjects and on implants removed from people who passed away.”

“Passed away?” Harry enquired.

“Yes, some of natural causes, others… by their own hands I’m sad to say. And you may not be surprised to hear that a good number passed away from heart failure. Most are not as young or healthy as you Harry.”

“So how does it work?” Steven asked.

“Well, we target them with a sustained dose of precisely targeted electromagnetism. It sends them into overdrive for about nine hours, then they shut down for about six weeks. There appears to be a self-healing reboot process that takes that long to activate.”

“And then what?”

“Then we do it again, and again. We leave it until the cycles resume, then you can receive a new treatment.”

“And then the boners and all that other stuff will go away?” Harry asked.

“Yes. At least, the ones caused by the implants.”

“What about the other stuff?”

“What stuff are you referring to Harry?”

“You know, the weird thoughts.”

“The homosexual thoughts?”

Harry’s mouth pursed tensely and he nodded.

“So far as we can tell, ALL activity ceases. To the extent that sexual thoughts are produced by the implant in your brain, that will also stop. However; and I cautioned you about this when you first visited; up to two and a half years of homosexual imagery coupled with extreme arousal may not simply disappear.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your brain may have become habituated to the thoughts. They may not disappear completely even without the implants. You have experienced dozens of hours every week of extreme arousal and orgasms coupled to homosexual imagery. To complicate matters still further, the imagery appears to be adapted precisely to each subject’s personal tastes and triggers.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the visualisations you have experienced, mirror your personal predilections or tastes. One person may see only older men, another may experience spanking or punishment, and another may experience vanilla intercourse. It’s different for each person, but to be blunt, what you see is a reflection of your personality and tastes.”

Harry turned to look at his father and they locked eyes for a moment.

“So, you’re saying that we were gay all along?” Steven asked.

“Oh no, no, almost certainly not. But the alien fantasies do seem to adjust to fit your own perceptions of yourself and the role that you would subconsciously wish to play in a sexual situation.”

 

Harry’s cheeks glowed purple and he looked at the ground without speaking.

 

“Look, we are all complicated psychological beings,” Lam said. “We have a saying in my profession ‘There are no bad thoughts, only bad actions.’ Whatever imagery you’ve experienced was not by choice. You can feel embarrassed by it, or you can simply accept it and move on.”

“So, you just zap us, and that’s it for six weeks?” Steven asked.

“It’s not quite that simple. For a start, you’ll need to be clamped into a rigid frame to prevent you moving while the EM pulses are being delivered. We use high voltage emitters, and while they are being administered, you will feel constantly aroused.”

“How long does it take?” Harry asked.

“About nine hours.”

“Nine hours with a boner, for six weeks without one. I’ll take that deal.”

“It’s not just an erection,” Doctor Lam said.

Harry frowned a question at him.

“It’s nine hours of extreme arousal.”

“How extreme?” Steven asked.

“Think of the most powerful orgasm the implants made you experience. Now imagine that continuously.”

“For nine hours?!” Harry said.

The doctor nodded.

“Although it’s unlikely you’ll be aware of it after the first hour or two.”

“Why not?”

“Most males pass into an orgasmic stupor – like a sort of coma but without the negative effects.”

“But we’ll still be cumming for 9 hours? I bet that hurts afterwards. My balls feel like punchbags after an hour.”

“Actually, you’ll only ejaculate for about the first 30 minutes. After that, your genitals don’t even try. The orgasmic trigger is missing.”

“So, Fatso for 9 hours?” Harry said.

“Fatso?”

“Sorry, that’s what we call the cycle that keeps you horny but won’t let you cum.”

“It’s because our testicles get fat,” Steven explained with a sheepish grin.

“Ahhh, I see. No, not even like that. You’ll literally feel as though you are experiencing an orgasm, but your genitals will not be undergoing the physical process.”

“What’s it like?” Harry asked.

“Utterly exhausting. But everyone who’s experienced it says it’s worth it. They say it gives them their lives back.”

Harry turned to his dad.

“Let’s do it.”

 

 

Harry stood naked in the lab with his arms and legs spread, forming an X. His ankles, wrists and knees were drawn wide and held in place with padded strapping. His father looked at his son’s worried expression.

“I’m not so sure about this now,” Harry said nervously.

“Relax son. Just focus on the benefits.”

“Nine hours is a crazy long time.”

The doctor interjected.

“You’ll likely only be aware for one or two hours; after that you’ll zone out. I can even give you a sedative to relax you, or we can anaesthetise you entirely if you find the process too stressful. I don’t like to do that straight away because there’s always a risk when putting people under, and I don’t like to take unnecessary risks.”

Harry looked at Lam.

“I’ll try it without anything first.”

Lam gave him a supportive smile.

“Okay, but if you change your mind at any point, you only have to ask.”

Harry gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Right, we’re going to insert a probe into your bottom. This will help fix you in place, but it will also deliver the EM pulses to your prostate. The probe is lubricated, but most males find it a little unsettling. Just a heads up, it will give you an erection.”

Harry’s humourless smile turned queasy.

An assistant moved behind Harry and spread the cheeks of his bottom with one hand, and with the other, he lifted the probe into position. Harry felt its slimy tip touching his sphincter.

“Here it comes,” the man cautioned.

A few moments later, Harry felt it being pressed into his rectum. He squirmed instinctively as it pushed up inside him. It wasn’t thick, but it had an uneven head covered with a series of oblong bumps that ran longitudinally over the last inch. It started to very slowly rotate and he felt them touch him in a sensitive place. As promised, he instantly sprang a boner, but at least it wasn’t the insane hardness produced by the implants. Nevertheless, he lifted a wide-spread leg off the ground as though that would alleviate the sensation.

“Can you bring the hip restraint in now please Jason.”

Lam nodded to the assistant, and the man moved two large claw-like clamps in from Harry’s sides and pressed them against him. The soft vinyl-padded claw fingers closed just above and below the sides of his pelvis.

“This is to keep your hips absolutely immobile,” Doctor Lam explained. “Now a head restraint. This is the most important. It ensures that the emitters can target the implant with millimetre accuracy.”

Jason lifted a brace behind Harry’s skull. It looked like a car head rest combined with a 1950s dental headgear. It closed around Harry’s skull from the rear, enclosing him from three sides, its soft lining deforming and snugly securing him. The man wrapped a strap from the front, tightening it against Harry’s forehead.

“Now we need to lock your genitals in place.”

A frame was lifted from the ground, containing another, much smaller claw. This one closed around Harry’s erect penis. Harry’s penis naturally pointed almost vertically but the claw bent it down a little until it was inclined upwards at 45 degrees.

“Excellent, now all that remains is to position the emitters. Jason…”

Jason attached a large, complicated ray gun-looking device to the rear of the head restraint. It lowered from the ceiling and locked precisely into position. While he was doing that, the doctor wrapped a smaller clamp around Harry’s large scrotum. Harry’s testicles were riding so high that his scrotum was almost spherical. The clamp wrapped around it like a hand.

“Looks like the face hugger from Alien,” Steven commented.

“What? What does?!” Harry asked in alarm.

“That clamp on your balls. The way it’s wrapping around them. Nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t do that to me dad! This is already stressful enough.”

Steven pulled a humorous “oops” face, drawing his mouth into an exaggerated downwards clown frown.

“Sorry Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at his dad’s face.

“Jerk!” he said without rancour.

 

“Last but not least, the one on your glans,” Lam said.

He attached a much smaller ray-gun-style emitter to the clamp holding Harry’s penis. Below it, on a metal tray, he positioned a one litre glass bottle with a guide pipe over Harry’s glans. It looked like a small hookah pipe.

“I’m just going to give you an injection,” Lam said.

“What for?”

“It’s a beta blocker. It reduces your body’s release of adrenaline and stops your heart rate from rising too high.”

He jabbed a small needle into Harry’s thigh and delivered an ampule of bisoprolol into the muscle.

“Just going to attach a heart rate monitor.”

He attached a sensor to Harry’s chest using an adhesive pad. Two wires led to an ECG.

“Great, all done. Now all we need to do is calibrate and check the emitters. It’s almost completely automatic, but I like to double check just to ensure that everything is working perfectly. The amount of current is too low to damage human cells, but I take your wellbeing extremely seriously.”

“That’s good to know,” Harry said.

His father smirked at the hint of sardonicism in his son’s tone.

 

Raymond Lam walked over to a computer on a desk, alternating between mouse motions and key presses. As he worked, Jason hovered over his shoulder.

After a couple of minutes, Raymond turned to Jason.

“All look good to you Jason?”

“Yes, all well within normal parameters.”

“Absolutely.”

The doctor addressed Harry.

“Okay, we’re ready to start. Just try to relax.”

Doctor Lam pressed the start button and Harry felt the effects instantly. He inhaled sharply, as he felt all of the implants switch on simultaneously. He was used to that, but even on a Sleepy cycle, there was at least a few seconds of build-up. Whatever the doctor just did, took him from hard to instant orgasm. His stomach and buttocks tensed and contracted as he futilely endeavoured to pump his hips, but Jason had secured him well, and much as his body tried to assist his ejaculation, he was reduced to nothing more than a stationary participant in his body’s greatest, most fundamental urge; an urge so powerful that it had elevated mammals from primitive burrow-dwelling creatures, to the planet-spanning success story they now were. His body was driven to procreate, ejecting his precious semen with a vigour that only a young man assisted by the implants could achieve.

Time after time, his semen hit the single downwards curve of the glass pipe covering the head of his penis, before splashing down into the large receptacle below. His father watched in silent awe at the potency of his son’s orgasm. He saw the curve of Harry’s buttocks invert as his son tried to thrust, and the lithe muscles tensed. He’d seen his son’s orgasm many times since they returned, but he’d never been at liberty to study it. He felt mildly guilty for his fascination at what he knew was a private moment, but the opportunity to watch his son’s response was just too tempting. He told himself that he was just watching to discover his own imminent fate, but he knew better. He watched with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy.

His son bore an expression like a startled deer. His lips were drawn back, his eyes wide, his breath coming in rapid pants. And all the time, Steven could see that Harry’s muscles kept contracting as his body tried and failed to drive his cock deep into a body that was not there.

“Great abs Harry,” Steven joked, looking at the bumps that sculpted his son’s stomach.

“Ngggghh gnuuuuhhh,” was all Harry could grunt in response.

“He’ll be like for the next hour until his body settles into it,” Lam said to Steven. “Come on, let’s get you hooked up…”

 

 

Steven stood next to his son. If it was not for the restraints on his wrists, he’d have collapsed to the floor. They had both stopped ejaculating long ago, but still the implants kept telling their bodies to orgasm.

They were both used to experiencing 30 orgasms in an hour, although “used to” did not accurately reflect their experience. They had no choice but to endure the orgasms, and had become familiar with the cycle. But every single time was like the first, and every single cycle left them sleepy and weak as a kitten afterwards.

But even that cycle paled compared to what they were currently enduring; a single orgasm that went on and on.

Harry’s enormous cock and giant balls had responded at first, working in concert to ejaculate; to deliver the semen that the aliens deemed so precious. He’d spurt for a minute, then pause for maybe 15 or 20 seconds when his testicles were too exhausted to maintain the effort, then he’d spurt again; repeating, repeating, repeating until, despite their abnormal size, even Harry’s testicles were dry. And even then, for another 45 minutes, they pulsated like a still-beating heart removed from a chest in an Aztec sacrificial ceremony. And then, finally, all muscular energy utterly exhausted, they stilled.

 

For the first 10 minutes, Steven thought that he could simply tough the experience out, but by 15 minutes, sexual overload was changing his mind. His inner thighs, stomach, torso and arms, all trembled, his muscle control short-circuited by the pleasure that swept throughout his entire body. Knowing his son had been going longer than him, he wanted to turn to see how Harry was doing, but his head was as immobile as his hips.

By 20 minutes, his stoic hardiness changed into the desperate pleading of the girliest femboy, as he repeated the same mantra over and over in a voice two octaves higher than normal.

“Oh god please, oh god please, oh god please!”

If you asked him at that time, whether he was begging for the pleasure to stop or continue, he couldn’t have told you.

 

Next to him, his son was less articulate. Harry simply exhaled in a series of husky trembling whimpers as he did his best to withstand a level of physical arousal that was literally impossible to ride out.

He was determined to endure this ordeal so that he could experience 6 weeks of freedom from the constant, daily, life-altering arousal. His entire body trembled as though he been pulled from a freezing lake in winter. Even with the beta blocker, his heart rate remained constantly at an elevated 180 beats per minute. He could barely think straight. He certainly couldn’t marshal his thoughts enough to beg the doctor for a sedative, although he would surely have done so before, if he’d known how overwhelming the milking would be.

He was desperate to slip into the orgasmic coma that the doctor had promised, but it wouldn’t come, and he couldn’t force it. He felt like his horniness was being used as a weapon against him. Although he couldn’t look, his balls felt as big as ostrich eggs, and the pulsing felt like an electrical current was passing through them.

Images of gay sex scenes flooded his mind, changing with the same frenetic rapidity as a Spongebob cartoon.

Harry had never been aware of his nipples before, but now they felt bloated, protruding monstrously from his chest like the teats of a nursing woman. Even his lips felt puffy and swollen as his blood coursed through them.

 

His father’s speech started to slur, then fell silent but Harry didn’t notice. He was lost in his own world of erotic torment. If he could… just… thrust… his… hips, it would give him some relief. Although he did not remember uttering the words on the alien craft, he truly was nothing but a human cow, his cock being milked and his balls drained, while he stood unable to move, much less do anything to prevent it.

The emitters fired at his testicles; his glans; his prostate; his spine; and his skull, and at each location, the embedded implants went crazy, sending erotic signals to his body. A single unified, unbroken instruction that his body was incapable of ignoring; “Orgasm!”

The command continued without pause or reduction. His body received the instruction delivered with the all the power the devices could attain. “CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!”

Like the victim bricked into the walls in an Edgar Allan Poe story, Harry could move his eyes and even make inarticulate sounds, but he could do nothing to impede the ceaseless stimulation that was driving him out of his mind.

His balls were churning. His asshole radiated pleasure, fluttering, puckering, and suckling on the probe that penetrated it. His glans felt as though it was glowing. His consciousness was all-but overwhelmed by orgasmic pleasure.

He experienced a brief few moment of lucidity, and in those moments, he tried desperately to concentrate on the room; the doctor; the comp…

But he was almost immediately pulled back into a consciousness-dominating awareness of the overwhelming, unignorable ecstasy in his alien-enhanced genitals.

 

And then, mercifully, he too was gone – not into unconsciousness, as he had expected, but to a different place. He was no longer unendurably tormented, but nor was unaware of his body; far from it. Now he floated in a space where the only things that existed were his erogenous zones: his balls; his prostate, and his cock especially. They were not appendages on his body; mere extensions; he inhabited them. They consumed his consciousness almost utterly. And drifting through the grey erotic fog, images of delicious gay sex tumbled, in orgasmic fragments through the haze; the taste of a cock here, a pair of penises in his palms there, his hole being drilled by yet another, in an endless parade of sexual moments that aroused his brain as much as the implants aroused his body.

Meanwhile, his eternal orgasm continued…

 

 

Nine hours after the treatment had begun, Doctor Lam turned off Harry and his father’s emitters. The moment the emitters stopped, each of them fell immediately into a deep slumber.

Four orderlies released the pair from their restraints and placed their limp bodies on gurneys, which were wheeled to an adjacent recovery room. Steven and Harry lay on their backs with their cocks facing skywards like a pair of sundials.

 

Harry came to first. He was covered in a thin hospital blanket but he was naked beneath. He blinked and lay still, too exhausted to move. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling, the after-image of thousands of sexual encounters flash-framing across his mind’s eye. Even knowing they were fictions created by the implants, he found them exciting. He thought about what the doctor had said. That they fit the way that he saw himself.

What did it say about him that he was horniest getting fucked and used by other boys? It was a thought that he would spend many, many dozens of hours agonising over in the coming years.

 

After ten minutes, he slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He immediately became aware of the deep aching sensation in the root of his penis and in his testicles. He pulled the blanket back to reveal his shorn genitals. They were utterly flaccid now, and his penis lay atop his testicles like a thick, sleeping python. He lifted his enormous testicles in their pale, smooth scrotum and gently palpated them, then winced. They were sore. He put them down and they lay on the bed, outlined by his soft scrotum. He massaged the root of his penis where it curled between his legs. It was no less uncomfortable.

He glanced to the bed next to him, where his father lay, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deeply.

“Hey dad.”

His father remained motionless.

“Hey DAD!” Harry repeated, still without response.

He padded over on bare feet, his genitals swinging heavily as he walked, and shook his father’s shoulder; gently at first, then harder. Finally, Steven stirred.

“Nnnmmmm, hey champ,” he slurred in a sleepy haze, looking up at his son. “You okay?”

“My junk is killing me, and I feel like I just did the world’s hardest workout.”

“With your junk?” Steven mumbled sleepily. “Doing it wrong.”

Harry smiled broadly.

“Nah, my whole body. Especially my stomach and legs. How are you feeling?”

Steven continued to lay still on his back. He mentally interrogated his body.

“Same.”

Every word was an effort. Harry put his hand tenderly on his father’s arm, and stood for a few minutes, watching over him as Steven slowly gained strength. Steven slowly sat up. He winced at the strain on his stomach muscles.

“Gotta say Harry, I’m not a fan of your new workout routine.”

“You sounded like a little girl!” Harry grinned.

“Yeah, not my most macho moment. Not like I had much control over what I was doing. You sounded pretty desperate yourself there kiddo.”

Harry grinned bashfully.

“It was intense.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Yeah. Do you think the doctor will mind if we get dressed?”

“Nah, it’s over why would he?”

Harry picked his father’s clothes off the chair next to his bed and passed them to him, before picking up his own clothes and slowly dressing.

 

As Steven tied his sneakers, Doctor Lam entered.

“Hey guys. Good to see you up and about. How you feeling?”

“Shattered,” Steven said.

“Yeah wrecked,” Harry added. “Feels like someone used my nuts as a punchbag,” he said, using his favourite line since the abduction.

His father nodded.

“Are you in pain?” Lam asked.

“Well, maybe not pain like a kick, but they’re really aching,” Harry clarified.

“And my muscles too,” Steven added.

“Ahh yes, well that’s all perfectly normal. Internal vibrations or whole-body tremors occur when your nervous system becomes hyper-stimulated. The effect goes away the second the stimulation ends, but you’ve basically had an intense workout lasting 9 hours. You’ll be tired for a few days, and will certainly suffer delayed onset muscle soreness the day after tomorrow and for a day or two after that. But it’s worth it to get your lives back wouldn’t you say?”

Harry and Steven nodded.

“So, the cycles won’t come back for 6 weeks? It worked?”

“That’s correct. We’ve verified that the implants are producing erratic field levels now. That’s exactly what we were looking for.”

“I’ll be able to go back to school,” Harry said. “And see my friends.”

Doctor Lam nodded.

“Damn, it’ll be good to get my life back,” Steven added.

“I can only imagine. If you plan to drive home tonight, please be extra careful. The last thing you need is to crash due to fatigue.”

“Actually, I think we’ll take you up on your offer of a room for the night.”

“That seems very wise,” Lam agreed.

“Just one thing sir,” Harry said, “How soon till I can get a boner again?”

Lam stared at Steven for a moment, then they both burst out laughing.

 

 

Steven and his son left to stay at the small hotel adjacent to the PSC building. On Doctor Lam’s desk, a small printer churned out two adhesive labels. He passed them to agent Reyes.

“Stick these on the samples please. The father’s is on the right.”

Reyes took the labels and opened the large chiller. It was filled with hundreds of one litre glass bottles, each filled with white fluid.

“Busy week,” he noted.

“Yes, over 600 litres.”

“Kid on the left you said?”

“Yes please.”

Reyes looked at the two new bottles. The one on the left contained 750 millilitres of semen. The one on the right, considerably less.

“Jeez, the kid’s a shooter.”

“He certainly is.”

“How long do you think till you get them up to 24 hours?”

“Hmmmm, a year maybe. Pretty sure I’ll have the boy at 48 in 18 months.”

“Damn, he’s gonna have nuts like soccer balls.”

“Bigger maybe.”

“Poor bastard. Imagine trying to stuff those in his pants.”

Both men laughed at the thought.

 

Reyes looked at the label as he stuck it to the bottle. It read

Subject 8957: Harry Wallace.

Modification date: June 2024

Alien hybrid sperm sample collected: May 2027

 

“I wonder what technology our friends will trade for this?” Reyes mused.

“I’d settle for a longer phone battery,” Lam said.

“Yeah, Apple has gotten rich off this little arrangement.”

“Definitely. Spunk money.”

They both laughed again.