Exoskeleton part 1

Forced milking, humiliation

A disabled teenager is forcibly milked.

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Exoskeleton part 1

16-year-old Felix stood looking down at himself with a scowl. He knew what lay ahead: 8 hours with the hardest possible boner, his testicles shaking violently, making him feel so horny that it almost drove him out of his mind, completely unable to resist the orgasms as they were shaken from him again and again.

He knew better than to plead for mercy. Michel had already made it clear that pleading would only increase the intensity of the vibrations, shaking the cum out of his balls even faster; even more frequently, elevating his sense of sexual excitement to such a fever pitch that he could no longer distinguish between his constant excitement and his orgasms, and the orgasms all blurred into one.

Felix wore a hooded sweat top and very thin cloth sweat pants, but they were pushed halfway down his thighs along with his briefs.

His body from the chest downwards, was strapped into a robotic frame that his father called an exoskeleton. Three years earlier, when his father had still been alive, Felix called it his robot suit “Like Ironman!” he joyfully proclaimed. In reality, it was a high-tech pair of heavy-duty robotic metal legs, each one essentially consisting of little more that two pieces of tubular steel, with machines at each joint to move them as his own legs would move if they worked properly. The legs were attached to heavy metal feet at one end, and a sturdy hip piece at the other. Rising from the hip was a back support.

Claudio was an engineer, and the exoskeleton was his gift to his disabled son. The boy was born with a genetic neurological condition that left his brain unable to communicate properly with his muscles. As a result, Felix’ muscles were not capable of supporting him without assistance.

When his father first showed Felix the exoskeleton, the young teenager cried hysterically, seeing it as liberation from his broken body. But now, strapped into it, and about to be relentlessly milked dry for the third day running, Felix saw it as a prison.

It all started three months earlier…


Felix’ parents were nine months dead; lost in a tragic car accident just outside Nantes. Thanks to the fact that he was a very late child, his grand parents had all passed away before he was even born, leaving Felix with nobody. In the worst time of his life, he was saved when Michel, his father’s business and engineering partner had stepped forwards and offered to be the boy’s legal guardian. Felix had known with him for several years, both in and out of the lab, and given the alternative, it was an offer that the boy had gratefully accepted.

He was completely dependent upon Michel. Felix could move his arms, legs, and torso, but he was too weak to stand or walk around the house without assistance, much less go to the bathroom, or take bath unaided. Although he’d grown familiar with Michel before he lost his father, it was quite another thing for the man to have to see him naked. At first, Felix felt humiliated, especially as the man dressed him each morning, while he lay naked on the bed like an infant awaiting a nappy change.

But he quickly overcame that feeling, and soon enough, settled into life living with Michel and his girlfriend.


Every morning, Michel would waken Felix, dress him, and half carry the teen as he went to the bathroom, then he would strap the boy into the exoskeleton, which they had dubbed “Ironman” so that he could enjoy some semblance of autonomy.

Michel noticed on multiple occasions that Felix would develop an erection as he held the boy’s penis to help him urinate. They both ignored it, acting as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. It was the only way that Felix could deal with the embarrassment.

He was too weak to attend school, but he had a private tutor, watched TV, lots of youtube videos, and had occasional friend over, so he was not particularly disconnected from the modern teenage zeitgeist.


The wet dreams started in earnest when Felix was 15. They came late, but, Michel reasoned, the boy had no sexual outlet. It was his girlfriend Adrienne who pointed them out. The boy slept on a rubberised mattress cover due to his poor bladder control – another side-effect of his condition. He wet himself rarely, but then wet patches started to appear daily, with the tell-tale yellowing around their circumference.


Then one day, Michel walked into the hall that connected the lounge with Felix’ bedroom. Whenever the boy was in there, the door was left open in case he ran into an emergency, such as falling over in Ironman. It weighed more than he did, and with his weak muscles, he would not have been able to right himself.

Michel intended to call Felix for dinner. The boy was sitting at his desk with his voice-controlled laptop in front of him, and Michel noticed a distinct bulge tenting the loose joggers that the boy always wore. He could see the boy’s hand in his lap, on the other side away from him. He was not masturbating in the usual sense, but there was definitely some rubbing going on.

Michel grinned but gave the boy a respectful distance.

“Dinner’s ready he called.”

Felix immediately dropped his hand away.

“Yep, yep, um, okay!” he said in a fluster. “I’ll be there in five minutes okay?”

“Sure, take your time.”


Ten minutes later Felix had still not arrived. Michel wandered down to the boy’s bedroom.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I um, had an accident,” Felix said looking at the dark circle on his grey trousers shamefacedly. “I was waiting for it to dry.”

Michel smiled kindly.

“No problem. Let me go get some kitchen towel to fix that for you.”

A moment later, he was back carrying a roll of paper towelling. He tore off a couple of sheets and pulled Felix joggers and pants away from his stomach. It was a sticky mess inside.

“Ahh,” Michel said.

Felix looked down at himself. His penis was now softly curled amongst the slimy mess.

“Sorry,” he said bashfully.

“No problem. You’re that sort of age. You’re bound to get excited sometimes. Perfectly normal.”

Michel dabbed the semen away from Felix’ groin, until he was clean.

“Shall I change you for dinner?”

“Yes please,” Felix answered, looking at his still-wet underpants.


Five minutes later, he was in a new pair of pants and joggers, and strapped back into Ironman.

“Michel,” Felix said.

“Yes little wolf?” Michel said, using a French term of endearment.

“You won’t tell Adrienne will you?”

Michel smiled.

“Of course not.”

He conspicuously placed the roll of paper towel on the floor by the desk.

“I’ll just leave this here. In case you need it again.”

Two weeks later the roll was empty and then the wet dreams resumed until Felix shyly asked for a replacement…

One comment

  • Micheal is an “iron man” in more ways than one.

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