I exchanged my clothes for a hospital gown that was mostly open on the front and back, and was led to the exam room. The gown made the exam a quick and easy process but the sexy nurse I had fantasized about never materialized, just a wheezing geezer of a doctor with ice-cold hands. Next was a waiting room where they started an informational video and set a huge pile of forms in front of me. They asked me to read them and asked if I had any questions about the psych exam (who cares what D-A-A-A means?) The only forms I read were the short ones about the financial compensation; those looked good, the rest was a blur.
After all, what was there to think about? If you turned out lucky in the DNA lottery, your balls are worth a mint and they will pay you a fortune to drain them for you. Worst-case scenario is you just land a job as a lab tech carrying specimen bottles; still a better than flipping burgers right?
Apparently I had done great on the tests; the extractor thing sort of looked like cross between a stainless steel torpedo, a crotch rocket motorcycle, and one of those mechanical bucking bulls. It had handles and buttons and stirrups and straps and one other unmistakable feature, a rubbery sphincter-like orifice that I thought looked incredibly inviting to my sick little mind. The techs said that the extractor program increased the specimen amount collected by the average male by over a thousand percent in an hour long session...but some people experienced some discomfort. They said the machine was designed to stress your various capabilities to determine specific recommendations for job assignment. One tech added that if I consented to this test I was officially hired, but placement would be determined by the following test.
I had a job! My head was spinning with anticipation, my cock was raging. But did that mean ten or twenty orgasms in an hour or just a few really big ones? I was really looking forward to that type of discomfort. The instructional pamphlets never even got opened. I signed the paperwork. The techs left the room to give me some privacy for the final exam.
The orifice was a little high off the ground, which explained the stirrups, I latched my feet in and got my balance, line up my cock and began to work it in a few inches. Cool and clinical. Ahh, it felt so clean, I love medical technology. I slid in a little deeper but the contraption was still awkward. I leaned forward and slid my hands down a set of cuffs to the handlebars. My center of gravity suddenly changed and the machine pitched forward. The stirrups on my feet cinched tight and kept me from flying over the top, I grabbed the handlebars for balance and I buried my cock in the thing balls deep. The blood rushed to my head, I was practically upside down and without warning I had a orgasm. That must have turned it on because now the whole contraption hummed to life and began to suction.
Then the machine pitched the rest of the way forward, for a moment I seemed to be supported by my cock. Then the cuffs around my arms tightened and the handlebars slid a few inches down the torpedo away from me as the stirrups pulled back, giving me a good stretch. The two opposing forces pulled me taught but my cock wasn't letting me go anyplace. My hips were pumping up and down automatically as the machine suckled on me, this was fantastic, and my second orgasm hit me just a couple of minutes later.
Suddenly, my legs shifted forward, spreading my ass, and even letting the machine suck me in even deeper. I felt something oily tickle my asshole just as the machine tilted, slamming me backwards. I had tunnel vision, my body shuddered and I screamed with a mix of surprise, pain, and pleasure. My scream became a groan as I was rocked back forward and my open mouth slid over a rubbery protrusion that had popped up from the smooth metal surface. Then without even a pause, the machine began to shake me back and forth between the two protrusions. I felt impaled. First I thought it was my imagination, but both ends began to extend and I began to squeal as tears welled up in my eyes. The one heading down my throat was a straight shot but the one heading up my backend was probing, twisting, feeling its way forward. It wasn't long before both ends actually met in my middle, I was now truly impaled. Everything paused, this was insane; I finally remembered to breathe, I was dancing along the edge of an orgasm and I wanted to savor everything.
And then everything began to happen at once. A wall panel slid open and the extractor glided down a tunnel of machinery. I guess it was sort of a cross between a spa treatment and a rape assembly line. Soon I was nothing more than a hairless quivering mess. I had been shaved as it cleaned my outside, inside, backside, front side, and sides I didn't even know I had. The machinery that had virtually gutted me seemed to send random orgasms pulsing across my body just to prove how helpless I was.
My mouth suddenly expanded with a flood of oily vile tasting fluids that began to foam up almost immediately. At this point I was in full blown panic, I felt like a shaken bottle of champagne, the foam spewing from my mouth, nose, and filling my stomach, it tasted like chalk and blood. I tried to scream, tried to break free but the machine had me so well secured and silenced that it probably barely showed. The foulness in my mouth heated up and as my tongue brushed across my teeth one broke free, they seemed to be disintegrating, eroding, and then I passed out.
Strangely I wasn't feeling any pain in my mouth when I woke up but I had absolutely no sense of how long I had been out. My tongue felt for the gaping sockets where my teeth used to be but I could only feel smooth rubbery-tasting gums without even the hint of a scar. The machine had stood me up and spread-eagled me. My manhood was painfully engorged and lengthened beyond anything I had ever dreamed. Then without so much as a polite warning, the machine electrocuted me. It took me a few seconds to understand the pain I was in as my muscles spasmed relentlessly, but it was unmistakable; I was being electrified. Nozzles began to spray an oily mist from the ceiling, as it fell it seemed instantly attracted to me. It found every exposed inch of my skin and it was painfully hot. It tried to burn its way through my eye lids. It invaded my mouth as tried to scream. Then came darkness and silence as I passed out again.
Work Load
I checked the clipboard; personality-B-D-A...that meant he was really going to enjoy this...he would just never admit it. Amazing how what dudes say they like and what really kicks up their production is almost never the same thing. I scanned the paper work; he gave full approval on the short form, and no one ever reads the long form. The long form gives you the “safe word” options. Without that, you belong to the extractors for the agreed to terms of the full contract.
The techs had left him strapped down on the exam table with his feet locked into stirrups more than an hour ago. By now the "vitamins" he had in his lunch would have him just about ready to burst. He was in for a three day milk run to get the "free" company-offered health insurance. He probably didn't know the company had slated him for the aggressive run (maximize those profits) but his psych profile suggested he should recover after a few days and that he would surely be back. That's probably why the company hired him. It would be their dirty little secret that he was worth more as a milker on the weekends than as a data analysis clerk during the week. It is amazing how a few discoveries in biomedicine can turn the world on its head.
Lizzy was my partner today and she was looking good in her fantasy nurse outfit. It complimented her surreal skin perfectly, her machined body proportioned perfectly for sex. She was applying a new coat of red lipstick to the inviting "O" shape that passed as her mouth when her face muscles relaxed. She liked to be called a doll and it fit her perfectly.
I preferred the term "extractor," most of the men did. More macho I guess, sex dolls sounded too passive. I checked the mirror by the door, my open lab coat made no attempt to hide the permanently gloved phallus that proudly parted it. I picked up a few props from the shelf by the door, stethoscope, rubber gloves; speculum, the usual. Lizzy took her lipstick, lifted my chin, said "relax" and outlined my own rubbery lips. The chemicals reacted with my muscles almost immediately and my lips quickly popped into their own default "O" position. Then without a word she turned me around, bent me over her knee and did the same at my back door. I tried to hold still but my erect cock brushed against her leg anyway; my eyes rolled in pleasure. Lizzy was anything but passive. I had a huge crush on her and she had to know it.
I felt the chemicals in the lipstick tingle; I tasted cotton candy, my asshole unpuckered.
"New flavor?" (I always hated the way I sounded speaking through my "O-face").
"Yes, sweet tarts, it will go sour in a minute... with a kick."
Yep, there it was, my head spun for a moment, my cock throbbed even more than usual, I felt like I was breaking out into a sweat even though my synthetic skin was incapable. She always got the best drugs.
"You think we can pull 30 ounces from this guy quick, I have company coming over tonight?"
"He is scheduled for the trough tonight; you can head out early and I can rinse and repeat a few extra times before the shift changes... he might even like it."
"I don't know how you guys get off in that thing; I get claustrophobic just looking at it. It just makes me think of getting swallowed and shit out."
"It is an acquired taste I guess..."
"So is this "company" a date," I asked, nervously?
"Side work. I'm doing a bachelor party."
A surprising pang of jealousy hit me. I turned away hoping she didn't notice. My unwiltable penis suddenly felt slightly less taught. Our skins tended to camouflage anything but exaggerated facial expressions to others but we could read each other like books. I rarely left the company campus and here she was running a side business; I felt like such a loser.
She put her hand on my shoulder, "hey, I have an idea, I'm booked for a bachelorette party next Friday. Why don't you do it with me? We can tie you up and do an abuse show maybe? It will be fun, we can call it a date!"
"A date?"
"Sure, I'll even let you buy me dinner before we meet up with the girls."
"Yeah, that sounds great, let's do it."
"Ok, great. Friday at 7:00. Now let's get busy. Give me ten minutes before you come in."
With that she disappeared into the patient’s room.
I waited until the door shut before I nearly swooned. We had a date! A date, a date, a date!
An hour and a half later my patient was begging me not to run him through the trough again, he swore he couldn't take it, he begged for mercy. But we had time to finish out the evening so I increased the suction and let the machine slurp him back in for another cycle. He was almost at 40 ounces and that seemed like a nice round number to stop at. The sound of his whimpering was quickly muffled.
Then in the relative silence it hit me, I needed to find the perfect restaurant, I had a date! A date! A date!
The Start…
I was nervous even being off campus. I could feel people staring at me at every red light. Why was it socially acceptable for women to be sex dolls but everyone seemed so revolted by the men?
When I arrive I got lucky and saw a spot opening up right in front. I was just starting to parallel park when I saw her come bounding out of the front doors of her condo building. It was weird; she was wearing real clothes, not some costume and she looked great. I on the other hand felt trapped in my street clothes. My cock ran straight up my belly and was cinched down with my pants and belt to keep it in check. My shirt was tucked in over it but was constantly threatening to untuck when I got in and out of the car.
Half parked, I jogged around the car and opened the door for her.
"Ooh, a gentleman."
I ran back around the car and got in before anyone in traffic could start honking.
"So much for being the gentle man; what kind of girl do you think I am?"
I was confused, then I looked down, if I could have blushed I would have. The top six inches of my penis had worked its way free of my untucked shirt. I was mortified and began to stutter.
"Relax, don't be nervous, it’s just a date,” I can handle this with my eyes shut.
And then she closed her eyes, seductively leaned over and... totally went down on the car's gear shift... I was speechless... she took it deep...I giggled...she giggled. Then she came up for air and we broke into crazy laughter as people behind us began honking their horns.
"Come on, let's go eat; I'm starving." She was still giggling.
I put it into gear and pulled into traffic, I would never look at that stick shift the same way again. This was going to be a great date.
The END?