The Device

A white light burns my eyes. Am I dead? I don't have any memories of how I got here, and bright white lights, I've been told, are sure signs of being dead. My head throbs. Nope. Not dead. Being dead wouldn't come with a pounding migraine.

If I haven't died, where am I?

I try to turn my head but find that it's impossible. Something is restraining my neck and holding me in place. It feels soft, but firm, like plastic covered by some warm, spongy material. I adjust, and I become acutely aware of just how much mass is on me and exactly how little I can move. Running from both the front and back of my neck all the way to my hips, volumes of the same firm material are molded to force my back into a dramatic arch, and I'm positioned on all fours. I can feel a warm breeze on my asshole and cock. Only they are exposed. I start to panic. My hand moves for only a few inches to grasp for freedom before they're stopped by cuffs. I don't hear the signature clinking of chains. Are there cables keeping me in place? I can feel sleeves running up and down my arms and legs, with more cuffs at my elbows, biceps, and shoulders, but I can see nothing. I have no idea where I am.

I squint as my eyes adjust. The all-encompassing light has now faded to a paneled screen--whether I move my eyes side to side or up and down, the only thing I can see are the screens. Am I wearing a headset? Hell, I don't know how I got into this... this thing, but as I thrash and try to escape, I hear a gentle, robotic voice. It's high-pitched and feminine, and it's clearly simulated.

"Symptoms of stress detected. Beginning first phase of neural augmentation: mental relaxation."

*First* phase? Wait--*Augmentation*? Ice shoots through my body as my fight or flight reflex takes over. I don't like the idea of one stage of whatever this is, let alone multiple, and augmentation--the word itself looms in my mind. I try to cry out, but my voice is muffled, as if I'm hearing myself shout from another room.

What is going on? I try to rack my memories. Today I took a walk, I think? Or had I been inside playing video games? As I sail the backwaters of my mind, a soft humming, overlaid with a distant screech, fills my ears. The screen in front of my eyes changes, and flashing lights and patterns becomes the entirety of my vision. Even when I try to hold my eyelids tight, the imprint of the light reaches through the thin layer of skin and burns into my retinas. This whole time, I've been shaking and fighting against my restraints, but my body becomes weak. I scream at my limbs to continue, but they only comply lazily and without vigor, as if I'm running in a dream.

As my body relaxes and the tension is released from my muscles, the restraints become tighter, pushing at me and securing me so firmly that I don't think I could move my torso one centimeter, even if I had the strength.

Words flash on the screen. It's so quick, that if it wasn't covering every corner of my vision, I might have missed it: "NO NAME." The noises that are rolling through my brain change a bit as the words appeared.

No name? I wonder if it has something to do with the machine, or if it's asking me for my name. it might be like an empty save file, I figure. I try to respond, telling it my name, but where I hold my name in my mind... I find nothing. I cannot remember my name. I try to imagine writing my signature, filling out government forms, or even telling a barista what name to write and inevitably misspell. However, it's to no avail. Each situation has a gulf between me and the mysterious word that designates who I am. There's only a void, cut from my brain with surgical precision. Now my mind starts to race, and I try to call out again, hoping saying random words will lead to my name spilling out of my lips. I only feel a shallow groan escape.

Another word appears momentarily between the patterns: "JOY." The noises change again.

With a violent thunder, dopamine cascades over my body, and although I can't move, I know I'd now be shaking with pleasure if I could. What is this? Even more than terror, I feel *good*. The patterns start to take shape, but I can't capture what they are. The feeling fades quickly, but my mind is calmer because of it. I wait for a moment, and I realize my panic has stopped.

The feminine voice returns. "Beginning second stage of neural augmentation: sexual stimulation."

I try to widen my eyes with surprise, to no avail. With my back arched, my cock is hanging between my legs. It's limp. Suddenly I feel movement. It's fluid and gradual, but after twenty seconds, my legs are spread apart and up until my knees are three feet from one another. The machine makes no sound as it does so.

Then there's more movement. This time, on my face and crotch. Both have something slide to meet them, as if there's an item rotating into place. Both items feel empty, like domes placed over their contents.

"RELAX," the screen flashes. Immediately, I physically and mentally melt. The dull fear I'm experiencing is now an afterthought.

"Aphrodisiac gas releasing," the voice says. The words barely register to me at first, but I fight back with my mind. I'm stronger than whatever this is, and I'll get through. Yes, it has power over the body, but I'm still conscious. I'm still pushing back. I'm restrained physically, but mentally, I'm clear, and even though my nipples become hard and sensitive, and even though I'm aching, dying to be touched, I'm here. I'm not weak. I am strong, and my body is only starting to moan because... because... oh, God. The gas must not have a scent, but it's climbed into my lungs and settled there, infecting my brain.

The patterns disappear and are replaced, and I can see images of beautiful women in their stead. With the expanse of the screen, multiple videos play simultaneously, and the audio of whichever I look at is at my ears. They must be tracking my pupil movement to do so, but for whoever made this machine, that would be child's play. There's a woman with dark skin and a large ass riding a cock, looking back into the camera, and to the right is a petite and pale older woman who's dancing solo. Above her, a woman is pumping her fist in and out of her own swollen pussy. All of them only are displayed for moments at a time before they're replaced. My eyes dart from woman to woman, exploring their bodies as if I'm hungry for more and more.

"Beginning penile stimulation," the voice intones.

I can't see my cock, but I can tell it's dripping when something touches it. It's warm and well-lubricated, but with the slow and methodical motion, I can't imagine that it's anything other than another attachment of the machine. It slides up and down my length at a tortuously slow speed. Sometimes it speeds up, but the machine must be able to track how close I am to reaching orgasm, as it will draw back, slow down, and even completely stop each time I get too near release.

The women on the screen are all interacting with dicks somehow now. Some have them lodged down their throats, and some are fitting the massive cocks--and they're all massive--into their assholes.

I see words again. "GOOD BOY." There's another flood of endorphins, this one lighter than the first. Then, the screen says "RELAX." I didn't think there was any tension in my body, but the message chases out any possibility of physical stress. Even mentally, I'm unable to conjure up panic or the same feelings of rebellion. I don't want this... but maybe it won't be so bad? I just need to get through it, and I'll be released. I'm sure. Whoever's doing this can't be that evil if they're making me feel so good.

The cock sleeve pulls away after edging me one last time, and I hear the robotic voice: "Beginning third phase: oral fixation." The tone changes and I start to drool. Oh, God. I feel an emptiness and restlessness in my mouth. I've never smoked, been one to bite my nails, or anything, but now my mouth needs to do something.

I can feel my brain try to resist. It has the same tension as an outstretched tape measure moments before collapse, and as it's stretched farther and farther, finally it falls. My tongue feels like it's on fire unless it's moving, and somehow the sexual pleasure from before is changing, shifting until it's in my throat and on my lips.

The videos now change completely to women sucking dick. Blowjob videos never had particularly interested me, but now... their lips, their tongues, and those... those cocks.

Wait. *What?* Immediately I recoil.

I'm not against gay people or anything. I just could never imagine being someone who identified as such. I've known plenty of queer people, and I've seen guys at clubs who looked alright--with their mesh shirts and tight jeans hiding a thick, juicy--

I know it's just me and my thoughts, but I feel embarrassed, and I try to chase out any thoughts like that. I'm straight. I'm enjoying this because of the women... I think.

That's when something touches my sensitive lips. It's hot and hard, but it feels like silicone. Immediately, my body disobeys me again, and I start giving soft kisses to this--this *thing.* It does not yield, and before I know it, it's slipped between my teeth, and it pushes against my tongue. It tastes salty, almost--it almost tastes how I'd imagine a cock to taste, if I were ever to imagine such a thing. I lap at it hungrily, finding a small slit on the head--fuck... at the *end* of the device. Without being able to resist, my tongue flicks and teases the hole. There are even ridges to simulate veins up and down the rod.

"Dispensing dose of donated pre-ejaculate," the robotic voice intones. A slow stream of fluid, bitter and salty, drips into my mouth. I swallow without thinking.

She said I'm drinking... precum? The videos I'm watching become all too real as the women on the screen worship and please the cocks before them with their mouths. I no longer identify with the men in the videos, but with the cocksuckers. Then, the dildo--I finally accept that's what it is--starts to push in and out of my mouth. First, it dives into my throat, triggering a gag reflex. My body heaves, stopped by the device around me.

The voice tells me one more time to "RELAX," and my throat becomes looser and more pliable. I'm being prepared for something.

Then, the dildo pulls back, leaving only it's head. I can taste the liquid with my whole mouth as it drips onto my tongue. It's not as bad as I first thought, and I find myself trying to suck more out as if from a straw. I try willing myself to stop once again, but it's like a sand castle resisting a tidal wave.

The dildo sinks further into my mouth until I feel something--the dildo's base, I guess--against my lips. The whole length of the thing has to be around ten inches with how much it's making my throat bulge against the machine. It's thick, too. Then the dildo starts to slowly pump in and out of my mouth, leaving my body swallowing and gasping for air between thrusts.

I hadn't noticed before, but now I see something else: the videos have changed. No longer are the videos of women worshipping men's cocks, but now it's all... *men* worshipping men's cocks. My screen is now full of feminine men and androgynous boys alongside masculine ones who are all working the hard to make someone else's member cum. Had I really not noticed because... because I had been focused on the penis in each of the videos?

As I look at the men who were sucking away, one catches my eye. It's a skinny and smooth taller boy--I think he'd be called a twink? He has brown hair and freckles on his shoulders.The dick between his lips is huge and circumcised, and its pubes are brushing against his cheeks and nose every time he dives down again. I watch, admiring his skill, and I wonder to myself how much someone would have to practice to get to his level. Then I feel it. My dildo has sped up to match the speed of the cocksucker. As he deepthroats, so do I. As he goes for shallow, quick sucking, so do I. I look at other videos that appear on the screen, and as I do, my dildo matches the speed of each. I look back to the original brown-haired boy. I'm entranced, and I can't bring myself to close my eyes. My own cock, which has remained erect the whole time, is crying for attention as this somehow turns me on more and more. My throat is being fucked, and I'm... enjoying it. I watch that brown-haired boy and the amazing cock in his mouth, and with the tones in my ears, I begin to lose track of time.

Suddenly, the feminine voice speaks again. "Dispensing first dose of donated ejaculate."

I try and prepare myself, but just then, my mouth is flooded with the hot, thick liquid. Cum cascades and rolls over cum in a realistic, jerky rhythm until my cheeks bulge a little, but my controlled body doesn't let a single drop escape. I've created a tight seal between my lips and the dildo. The cum tastes... not how I expected. Not that I've ever thought about the taste of cum, of course. Have I?

"GOOD BOY."

I feel my skin tighten as a feeling of bliss rinses over me. The cum in my mouth tastes like a mild soap, maybe with salt. I swallow and gulp until it's only the cum that's under my tongue and between my teeth that remains. It's... not the worst thing I've ever tried. The dildo remains in my mouth for this whole ordeal.

The videos have changed. Now the one I find myself looking at most has someone with light brown skin covered in muscle and hair, and they're sucking a smooth cock, this one veiny and uncut. The cocksucker is holding the person's hips, and he's practically lifting them up into his mouth. The cock too... it's massive. At least, it's bigger than mine. The dildo starts pumping again, meeting the tempo of the bodybuilder. He's slower and more methodical. He has a good technique. I catch myself wondering if all cum tastes the same, or if it's like wine, with different flavors and notes depending on the person. I even wonder for a moment what the cum from that clean-shaven, veiny cock would taste like.

Apparently, I get to find out. "Dispensing second dose of donated ejaculate."

This load of cum is more flavorful and almost sour. It surprises me, but with the cocktail of endorphins and dopamine poured through my body, I still don't find it *bad*. This load is smaller, and it's thicker, like a milkshake. I gulp it down, letting it slide down my throat. A small voice in my head screams at me. I think I'm supposed to remember something? It's important. I'm... fighting against something, I think?

The computer prints more words in front of me. "GOOD BOY."

The warm and good feeling pushes any distractions away, and I'm already ready for whatever comes next. I'm glad I'm a good boy.

New videos pop up, and the process repeats itself. Each new video features a different cock and cocksucker, and if I focus on one, the dildo lodged in my mouth matches it. I swallow another load of cum, and another, and another, until I lose track of how much semen I've swallowed, and my stomach and jaw are sore. "GOOD BOY" flashes on the screen with the completion of each video. By the end, the taste of cum isn't just familiar or acceptable. It's... good. I start to have favorites, I think. My brain still is asking me to fight something, but I push that urge to the side.

After some amount of time--minutes? Hours? A series of electrical chimes meets my ears, and the dildo withdraws. My tongue follows it, reaching to feel it as long as possible, but my head is still locked into place.

The feminine voice speaks up again. "Beginning fourth phase: anal fixation."

Suddenly, the part of my brain I've been pushing down stirs to life, and I sober up from... whatever they're doing to me. What *are* they doing to me? Anal... I can't do that. I try not even to linger on my ass in the shower. Again, I try to thrash and push, but then the screeches change in my ears, and the same pleasure and obsession I just had in my mouth dissipates, reappearing... it reappears somewhere inside me. I feel my ass is empty suddenly, and the arch that my back is forced to follow feels natural, as if having my hole presented and raised high is only natural.

Something slides down and into place, resting against my asshole. It feels cold and slippery, like metal.

"RELAX," the screen again demands. A small whine rises in my throat, but that's all the rebellion I'm able to muster. My body becomes loose, and the cold, lubricated item pushes into me. It stings at first, but at the computer's demand, my body has readied itself. Besides, the... thing... is tapered, and it gradually widens my asshole. My mouth opens in a moan.

"Dispensing enema fluid and commencing sanitary process," the digital voice tells me.

For the first time in my life, I feel a cold liquid rush into my ass, quickly filling the entirety of my intestines. I feel cramps just moments before a chime rings out, and the solution is removed. The same tube that deposited it now acts as a vacuum, cleaning me for... something else. I feel my stomach contort in unnatural ways, and I suspect electrodes are being used to make sure my body is forcing out the water precisely where it's accumulated the most. However... it feels good, and a part of my brain is thankful for the stimulation exactly where I need it most. This cycle, wherein I am filled and cleaned, continues several more times. Meanwhile, the video feed has returned to patterns overlaid with the occasional "GOOD BOY" or "RELAX" to keep me sated. The enema tube is removed, but not before shooting a warm, slippery liquid into me. Lubrication, I assume. My ass feels relaxed, but empty.

"Sanitary process complete. Aphrodisiac gas releasing," I hear. My brain responds more quickly, and now my ass doesn't just feel empty, it feels like it *needs* filling. It's... it's not really me, though. It can't be. I try to fight it. I'm not someone who takes it in the ass like that. At least, I don't think I am...

Then another object, this one hot and firm like the one that had been in my mouth, meets my asshole. It moves closer and closer until it's clear that it's looking for entry. I try to resist, but my body only tries to open more for the dildo that's pushing into me, and with very little effort, I feel the rounded flare push past the threshold, and the first bulb, the *head*, is now in my ass. The voice returns, telling me that it's "dispensing dose of donated pre-ejaculate." I'm so sensitive, that along with each ridge and bump on the dildo's first inch, I can feel it leaking precum. I hate to admit it, but my body and mind are celebrating, welcoming the dildo. It feels... right. Admitting this to myself is hard, but when I do, a rush of relief hits me. It feels *good* to be fucked, and that's okay.

Inch by inch, and centimeter by centimeter, the dildo enters my asshole. It's thick, but God, it's a kind of thick that makes me feel good to be stretched. A gutteral, basal moan rattles through my body as the faux cock sinks deeper and deeper, nudging past my prostate as it does so. Then, just like the oral dildo before it, this one bottoms out. I don't know how deep it is, but it's filled me to the brim. Then, it begins to move again. It uses a few deep pulses to get me used to the sensation, only moving an inch or two at a time. Then it begins in earnest.

I'm putty in the machine's clutches, and I can already feel my balls shifting and rolling as they long to cum. Videos return to the screen. It's still men, but this time they're not sucking dick. Instead, they're being railed, gently fucked, or anywhere in between. My eyes immediately dart to the ones being fucked hardest. That's what my body wants, and part of me prays that this dildo works just like the other, matching the rhythm of whatever I choose.

My prayers are answered. After a few practice strokes, the dildo lodged in my ass starts to pull almost all the way out before plunging back into me, and suddenly, as I'm watching a chubby green-haired boy with lots of piercings bounce on a beautiful cock, so too does the dildo start bouncing in and out of my ass. I shudder reflexively. I feel used, but I feel good. I feel like I'm meant for this, and the empty, yearning feeling in my ass is cured. I'm fucked for fifteen minutes or so, with my prostate being pounded over and over, and the green-haired boy knows what to do. He grinds deeply before pulling the cock almost all the way out. Then, he thrusts it back in, angling it to massage his prostate as he quickens his pace again. I can see his penis dripping. I'm fucked at the same speed, and I must be matching him.