The Derrick

--

"Sir, I have logged your complaint, but I am not Technical Support."

It was the refrain he'd gotten used to hearing from the disembodied voices on the phone. He had a laundry list of issues:

1) The remote made his hand hurt too much to masturbate, and he couldn't switch-hit without using Mojo.

2) No one posted about the device anywhere online. Was he in a pilot program, or something?

3) Trying to get some help at the hardware store, he'd clapped his hands multiple times at the inattentive clerk. Realizing his mistake immediately, he ran to the bathroom to change his dick back to its original color, but the lapse had cost him 10 Mojo.

4) The most important issue. He had been masturbating in the most private place he could find when the urge struck him, a stall in the Walmart men's restroom. Someone had walked in, and without warning, the penis itself blared an alarm: "MINOR DETECTED! CEASE SEXUAL ACTIVITY IMMEDIATELY!" as the dick went limp in his hand. It continued: "MINOR DETECTED! AUTHORITIES WILL BE NOTIFIED IN 30... 29..." He'd crammed the soft dick back into his pants and sprinted out of the bathroom. Passing the mystified 4-year-old and his shocked father, he bolted out of the store to escape imprisonment. He'd never show his face there again, or anywhere, until he figured out what was considered a "safe" distance.

5) Microtransactions. Not a technical issue, but if he ever found the guy who'd invented them, he'd strangle his rich ass with The Derrick.

Ugh, gotta stop using that name, he thought.

--

Oliver shivered, standing alone in the moonlight outside the Bodyaug consultation center. The shining orb lit his frail body, which was emaciated by months of neglect and malnourishment.

Without steady income, he had slowly destroyed every "relationship" he'd forged, if you could call them that. He surfed couches, stole food and gasoline to sell, and allowed himself to go unwashed for days to save money for his payment, and extra Mojo Minutes.

He had become accustomed to the beast by now, and he was equally addicted to its powers. He couldn't achieve orgasm without using Mojo. Faced with a lack of coinage, he would "treat" himself as often as he could, with a hooker or a whispered command to The Derrick's remote: "Come for me."

But he'd been out of Mojo for a long time, and his weeks-long "dry spell" had only been interrupted by unsuccessful attempts to relieve himself.

Girls had come to his apartment; he'd found them online. They were from a "cock worship" group. Takes all kinds, he'd thought. It was an opportunity for which, by definition, his old cock would not "fit the bill." Not anymore. He was gonna be the talk of the town, now. Anyways, he was desperate, and the girls didn't charge him anything.

But while these women all left very satisfied, none were able to help him achieve the orgasm he so desperately sought. No matter what demeaning positions he talked these girls into, nothing made him feel powerful like 15.375" of stiff pole did.

He'd finally measured it, of course, disappointed to find out that it wasn't a record setter. Oh, well. Mustn't be greedy, Oliver. He wished it hadn't cost $20 to test, though. Especially since he couldn't even enjoy it after measuring before the minute had run out.

The Silver Mojo Package really was a one-time deal, like the man on the phone had said. His payment was now $372.78. He wondered idly if he'd be eligible for a "frequent buyer's discount."

The payment was oppressive. He'd spend the first three weeks of each month panhandling for the money. He was embarrassed, but whatever-a guy's got needs, right? He now only called Customer Service for more Mojo once per week, twice when there was a special event, like his birthday or an eclipse or something.

Standing alone, shivering in the cold, he recalled a particularly embarrassing episode in which he'd found a group of three women all willing to "worship" together for free, but he'd found himself unable to obtain an erection in their presence.

He'd walked, ashamed of his limp, swinging dick for what felt like the hundredth time, to his bathroom. With sufficient privacy now, he called Customer Service to find out that he'd initialed a clause limiting him to one sexual partner at a time unless he paid for the "Three's a Crowd" package. Fucking lawyers.

His chest hurt thinking about it. His chest hurt a lot these days. Robbed of his usual circulation, he suffered migraine headaches and chest pains multiple times per day. A small price to pay for the sex life of a porn star, though, he thought.

"Hello?"

It was the doctor's assistant. She was clothed in the white lab coat, just like he'd asked. He hoped that was all she wore.

"Hi. Thanks for meeting me. I didn't know who else to turn to."

She didn't speak.

"Do you have the key? It's freezing out here."

"Yeah." She moved to the door and unlocked it, opening it for him.

"Thanks." She followed him inside, locking the door behind her. He looked around at the dark office, happy that the colorful diagrams were too dim to see. His heart fluttered at the thought of the images.

They entered the office where he had sat for his initial consultation. He walked over to the doc's chair and sat down. It was very comfortable. "Let's do it here."

"Whatever you want, sweetie. Get it out, would ya?"

What an eager beaver, this one. He opened his kimono, exposing his naked body. He didn't even bother with normal clothes anymore. Why bother? He didn't leave his house, except to dip his wick.

He had turned the chair to the side to allow her to kneel at his feet. He lie sedately waiting for her to work her busty magic, his arms limp on the armrests. He felt tired. She could do the work this time.

She didn't hesitate. Dropping her lab coat to the floor in one smooth motion, she knelt. Had she gained weight since their last meeting? He hoped that this had been the right decision. His manhood ached with his pent-up need.

He began to harden. Thank God. This snake charmer watched, fascinated, as his penis stiffened in her grip. He thought briefly about asking her if she knew about the cock worship group, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to ruin his apparent monopoly.

She milked his rod upward, filling it with his blood. He wasn't scared by the tunnel vision now; he was used to it, looked forward to it, even.

"Wanna crack for me, baby?"

"No Mojo."

Her face saddened. "Aww, sweetie. Not even for me?"

"Not for anyone. My payment is high enough."

She looked at him craftily. "Well, okay, I suppose just this once..." She reached her right hand toward his, interlocking her fingers with his. He heard the faint "Cha-ching."

"What the fuck?"

"I gave you some Mojo, sweetie. For free. Don't make it weird; I get a discount, anyway."

But he wasn't about to argue. He was a man possessed; it had been weeks since he'd achieved orgasm, held back only by his own weak willpower from calling Customer Service for his fix. Now he was practically being given a ticket to Fuck Town, gratis. He wasn't going to complain.

Snap. Cha-ching. "Oh, baby."

She nuzzled her face against his cock as it lengthened, taking in every sensation. She breathed in headily, smelling its scent as she dragged her tongue up the smooth shaft. She popped two inches of the tip into her mouth, the curved ridge of its head taking the place of her lower lip. Sexy.

His cock surged. He had cracked his thumb without realizing it, the leads in his nervous system having long been incorporated into his habitual movements. He cracked his index finger, for good measure.

Realizing that the flesh was growing in her grip and mouth, the woman moaned. She flicked her tongue across the tip of his cock, and he cracked a third knuckle. He couldn't help himself with this horny cock goblin.

"Wait, sweetie. I want you to grow inside me." He realized she'd been plunging her hand in and out of her sopping pussy.

"Okay. Sit back on it." At least he wouldn't have to look at her stomach. He leaned back in the seat, which was surprisingly strong. The doc must have been prepared for this kind of thing, too.

She faced away from him. He watched her bow her legs out to accommodate the tip of his monstrous cock. He watched, fascinated, as she squatted down repeatedly onto it, a bit more each time, guiding it into her pussy with both hands. She groaned throatily with each new penetration. She had turned the chair to face away from the desk, and he now saw why: directly in front of the skewered woman was a full-length mirror.

She watched the mirror, entranced, as she impaled herself upon the perfectly-straight, 13.375" rod. It sunk halfway into her, but she was unable to press any further. Her eyes would nearly close as she stuffed herself with his massive dick, grunting with each stroke. She started to moan, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

She opened her eyes, meeting his in the mirror. "Fuck me, Superman!"

He assumed the pose, feeling kind of stupid doing it in the chair under this chunky girl. But his member was brainlessly obedient as always, reaching full size in two strained heartbeats. His vision blurred. Hmm, this was a new one.

But the impairment was quickly forgotten as he closed his eyes and pumped away at the full figure straddling him. He reached his hands around to grab her tits, still thrusting with all his might.

--

Feeling his groping hands at her sides, she leaned backward to bring them within reach of her sensitive nipples. Her weight pressed against him, pinning him to the chair. She humped her hips against him, feeling the steely rod pressing against her cervix. So big, she thought weakly. So damn big. It was when The Derrick turned into Superman that she always hesitated, afraid to tear something.

But her need drove her. She couldn't stop now. She had to have her climax, and it could only be provided by The Derrick. It had been months. She turned her head, but didn't look at him. "Slap my ass."

He did. Cha-ching. She felt the lube ooze into her vagina, pressed into every fold by the gargantuan appendage. She felt a crackle as it stimulated her nerves, while simultaneously deadening his. Lightning shot between her nipples and clit. Mmm, Titillating, she thought. TM.

She tilted her hips up and down, watching her stomach in the mirror. She could make out the outline of The Derrick's bulbous head as she tipped forward, stretching her skin tightly against his penetrating staff. Oh, God. She was getting closer now.

The penis suddenly went limp. Shit. This happened sometimes. She reached backward and grabbed his kimono. Who wears a kimono? "Not yet, sweetie." Hard again. She loved having insider knowledge about The Derrick.

She'd joined the Bodyaug forum finally, under an assumed name. A user there, "Teresa K," had been asking about The Derrick. It seems she was looking for it, and she didn't care about the man it was attached to; she'd take them all: tall, short, black, white, nice, mean, whatever. She had directed the woman to apply to Bodyaug as a "Flicker." Another budding entrepreneur, she thought with a laugh.

Thinking of teaching another woman how to seduce The Derrick's owner made her nipples hard. Her legs clamped together, trying to feel every bit of the 15 3/8" spear that she rode. Her mount, still providing her stiff seat, held tightly to her breasts as she used his apple-sized head to rub her G-spot. He hadn't spoken in a while, but his hips still thrust forward gently.

Here it comes, she thought. Grunting and clutching the bulge in her stomach, she climaxed. Her skin shook as she shuddered through her orgasm, rocking back and forth on The Derrick, calling his name as it spurted into her.

Its owner was still silent, having weakly participated in the organ's eruption. She'd spent the last thirty seconds riding him, holding the man's kimono in her left hand as she masturbated his cock through her stomach with her right. But now, as she rose from his lap, having achieved release for both of them, she looked down at his body for the first time in several minutes.

The man was gaunt, his form a specter in the swivel chair. His eyes were closed, and his hollow, caved chest was unmoving. The tower of his penis was a solid white against the dark room, the artificial cum still dribbling down the side of its rapidly-cooling skin. It remained stiff.

--

Misty didn't know his name. She never bothered to learn The Derrick's owners' names, because they never bothered to learn hers. They were all the same: misogynistic assholes who thought having a big dick, or being 6'6", was the solution to their personality problems.

She snuck a glance at the desk, which still held the clipboard bearing the man's information and signature. But not to look at his name. Under Occupation, he'd written "Plasma and Sperm Donor." To think that somewhere out there, some poor woman (or more!) might be bearing this prick's spawn. She shuddered.

Names didn't matter, anyway. The men all spent their money so fast, The Derrick was refurbished and on to a new signer before she'd even gotten to know its temporary lessor. Or in this case, before the body was cold.

She'd gotten good at this game. Cheap bastard should have sprung for the Hot Blooded Package.

"Hey, there."

She heard the door, and turned to see the doctor. "Damn, lost another one, huh?" he asked her.

She smiled at him in the dim light of the office. "Yep. Man, this job is so hard sometimes." The beautiful grave marker looked down upon its temporary owner. While "his" for now, it would soon be filled with the lifeblood of a new host. The Derrick couldn't take money from dead men.

He kissed her on the cheek and replied. "I'm sad to see that you tried your best to save him. This one didn't deserve to keep it, Misty." She knew that, but she hadn't been able to help herself. And it's "Mrs. D.", now, she thought to herself. She would be leaving him soon.

Bodyaug would divvy up the proceeds from the man's estate, of course. These men signed their Final Will and Testament, without coercion and of their own free will, after all. She got a 30% cut as the Flicker and Notary, but she would have done it for free.

She loved The Derrick, no matter who her impotent husband found to temporarily host the beautiful appendage. The Derrick was her real provider, and soon she'd have him all to herself.