Chapter Text
I make my way to my attending doctor but have to wait for him to finish a phone call before he deigns to give me his attention. Dr. Kloss is a fat, white-haired man and the leader of this ER. He is a bit of an asshole to most of his subordinates, and I don’t have the feeling that he likes me any more than the rest, but he is (and will be for the next months) my boss, so there’s not much I can do about it.
He finishes his phone call but now starts typing into the computer. I’ve learned enough already these last two weeks to know that interrupting him won’t help. 'Why bother talking to me, you old sack of shit?' I think to myself. I’m just here to talk to you about a patient that might be dying right now. Well, the patient I want to tell him about probably won’t die, but he doesn’t know that, and I still need his help.
Whatever. I take the unwanted pause to relax for a moment and check myself out in one of the mirrors hanging in his office. A tired-looking woman wearing a white coat looks back at me. Everything sits perfectly—at least I look exactly like the professional I want to look like.
It’s hard enough for a female doctor, and even harder when you are a tiny half-Asian one like me and look quite young for your twenty-eight years (although I’m not complaining about that outside of the hospital—I'm quite happy with my youthful body).
Finally, Kloss finishes whatever he’s doing. “Dr. Chen,” he says with a fake smile, “what can I do for you?” “I was hoping to talk to you about a patient, a Mr. Alvarez…” “Go on.” “Eighteen years old, complains of pain in the genitals, and… well, they are massively swollen; I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Dr. Kloss chuckles: “You’re sure that you just never saw one of his size before? I heard Asians tend to have smaller ones.” 'Racist pig,' I think, but I say, “No, Doctor, it is definitely some kind of condition. I just don’t know what kind!” Kloss hefts himself out of his chair: “I’ll check it out. Continue your work on the other patients for now.”
An hour later, Kloss calls me into his office. “It was good for you to get me,” he says. “A bit longer and the kid might have had lasting damage. But you should have at least known that something like that could only come from a nano-virus. I guess they don’t teach those anymore at your med school.”
“I’ve never seen a patient with one in person, Doctor Kloss. I know they were quite common when you were younger, but nowadays…” “They’re rare, so let’s just have our patients die from them?” That wasn’t what I wanted to say, you asshole. Kloss continues, “The kid has a nano-virus that mutated from a men’s-help product. Increases his sperm production and virility—to an extreme extent. For now I’ve just had him… relieve himself, but that won’t be a long-term solution.”
“Don’t you need a tailored anti-nanobot solution?” I ask. “So you do know something about nano-viruses,” Kloss says with mock enthusiasm. “Yes. But that will take a while. But there’s something we can do for him until then. Meet me at his bedside in an hour.” I nod and leave, already thinking about my next patient.
Another hour later, I enter the room of Mr. Alvarez (where he has been transferred to from the ER—single occupancy; Kloss must like him). Dr. Kloss is already waiting inside, sitting at the kid’s bedside. He doesn’t seem to mind that the kid is naked from the waist down, his thick cock lying half erect on his leg. According to him, he was normal-sized before the onset of the nano-virus. Now his cock is almost as thick and long as my arm, and his balls are just as big.
Kloss looks up: “Mr. Alvarez, I believe you’ve met Dr. Chen before. As I told you, she has volunteered to help with your treatment today as a learning opportunity on nanoviruses for her.” The way he says this makes it sound more like a punishment for not correctly diagnosing the kid than anything else.
Kloss now looks at me: “I’ve already informed the patient and gotten his consent to today’s treatment. Pick up that syringe there, will you?” I step forward and grab the syringe from the tray he is pointing to. “You managed to get a nano-antidote?” I ask, stepping forward to inject the kid. But Kloss stops me. In one swift move, he takes the syringe from me and, before I can react, empties it into my shoulder.
“This is a nanobot medication,” Kloss says, “but not for the patient—for you, which you would know if you read up on nanoviruses before coming here.” My eyes swim, and my vision is swirling—what the hell did he just inject me with? I stumble, sitting down in the chair Kloss was just sitting in. My whole body feels hot—nanobots work fast, and they’re likely already spread throughout my body, producing more of themselves to do whatever the thing Kloss just pushed into my body is supposed to do.
“See, boy,” Kloss says to the patient, who is intently staring at me. “This is the replication phase. Like I explained to you before, the nanobots are now increasing their numbers inside of Dr. Chen, making her feel a bit woozy for the moment.” ‘A bit woozy?’ I feel like total shit, breathing as hard as if I just ran a marathon. But I don’t have the energy to make a rebuttal other than staring at Dr. Kloss with pleading eyes, which he completely ignores.
A minute or so passes with me in agony. But finally it stops. I’m drenched in sweat and my hair is disheveled, but my breathing is slowly returning to normal and I don’t feel like I’m literally on fire anymore. “Recuperation phase,” Kloss tells the kid. “The nanobots have spread through her body now.” I’m still too exhausted to speak. Looking at the kid, his cock seems to be even harder than before. Is he actually getting off from seeing me like this?
But I don’t have time to follow that train of thought. After a way too short break from the pain, now my throat begins to hurt like hell. My hands feebly grasp at it, but of course the pain is coming from inside. Neither of the two men in the room seems to want to help me. Instead, Kloss explains, “Targeted phase. The nanobots are exactly where they need to be right now.”
My throat burns, wanting something it cannot get. I’m panicking now, halfway believing Kloss is letting me die here for whatever slight he thinks I dealt to him. But my body has a plan. Somehow it knows how I can get this terrible feeling to stop. Stumbling, I get up, then make my way to the kid’s hospital bed.
Before I can think about what I’m doing, I’ve already climbed onto the foot side of the bed, kneeling down between the patient’s legs. My eyes focus again, and suddenly I know why I am here. My throat is a hole that needs to be filled if I want to have this stop, and the nanobots know exactly what they want me to fill it with.
The boy’s cock lies there, thick and heavy, and I can feel that it is the missing piece I need. I slowly move forward towards the kid, wondering how I must look to him—disheveled hair, a hungry look in my eyes. But I can’t peel my eyes away from his cock to look at his face. I know what I am about to do is wrong and might ruin my life, but I can’t live with this feeling in my throat any longer.
Tenderly, I lift up his magnificent cock with both hands, feeling its weight. I open my mouth wide, wider than I thought I could, and slowly but surely push myself onto his member. As he enters my mouth, I realize how warm he is and, once again, how large. His tip brushes onto my tongue, and instantly a hundred flavors explode in my mouth. His sweat, his scent, small bits of cum still on his cock from his earlier masturbation session—I have tasted these before, when I gave my boyfriends blowjobs, but with him they’re much more intense.
I crawl forward on the bed, pushing him deeper into me. Kloss doesn’t exist for me anymore; the rest of the boy doesn’t exist for me anymore, only his giant cock spearing into me. He hits the back of my throat, and I involuntarily gag, but I don’t stop. I need him deep in my throat to make this unbearable feeling stop. Luckily I haven’t even reached half his length yet.
Through further gagging, I push myself deeper onto him. Snot bubbles out my nose, and drool dribbles down the corners of my mouth, but I don’t care. He is now truly down my throat, and his massive size makes breathing somewhat difficult. I need to take short breaks now and then to catch a breath before I cram him in deeper.
Finally, I’ve done it. I’ve stuffed almost his entire length down my throat, and the terrible burning has fully stopped. He fills me up almost completely, and I have to take shallow breaths, pushing around the small bits of air that still fit around his member. For a moment, I just rest with the blissful feeling that it’s over now. Then my mind starts up again—what the hell did I just do?
My surroundings come to me again. I’m still lying on his bed, between his legs, with his cock stuffed into me. For a moment I’m thankful that Dr. Kloss gave the kid one of the expensive rooms—the bed is actually big enough that my position isn’t too uncomfortable. But that’s not the sort of thing I should be thinking about right now.
I can’t really move my head like this, but at least my eyes are willing to look away from the base of his cock again. I look up and am relieved to find that the look on the boy’s face isn’t 'this crazy doctor is trying to rape me.' Instead, he looks… relieved. Kloss sits next to the bed still, staring intently at me.
Kloss speaks up: “Now, Mr. Alvarez, was that more or less how I described it?” The boy gathers his thoughts for a moment, then answers, “Yeah, but even more intense than I expected. I mean I had girls go down on me before, but not like this. She was so… ravenous.” Kloss laughs: “Yes, the nanobots were quite potent. And Dr. Chen seems to be the born cocksucker.”
Rage wells up inside of me. Not only because of the insult, but also because all of this seems to be going according to Kloss’s plan. What the hell did he inject me with, and why? I try to make a rebuttal, but of course with my throat full of cock, nothing understandable comes out.
Wait, I’m still just lying here with his cock in my mouth—I need to get that out! I pull back a bit, but instantly the burning feeling in my throat starts up again, and my subconscious takes over, pushing me down into the exact same position as before. I try again—same deal. A third time goes no better—as soon as I let even a little of his absurd length out of me, I feel like shit again and involuntarily pull him back in.
The boy sits with closed eyes, apparently quite enjoying the feeling of his cock sliding up and down my throat. Kloss sits next to us and says, “Now, now, Dr. Chen, we need to keep you right there for the treatment to work. And fighting the nanobots won’t do you any good.” This is actually supposed to be treatment for the boy’s condition? I can’t believe it.
Kloss did this to me, and now he’s just sitting there smugly. I can’t exactly get up with my throat full of dick, but I can still get at him. Wildly, I swing my fist at him, not even caring that I’m attacking my boss and likely completely fucking up my career.
But Kloss manages to get up and dodge out of the way. Not gracefully, but with me stuck in this position, he doesn’t need grace. “Dr. Chen, that is really not necessary,” he says in a mocking tone. “I am afraid I’ll have to make you calm down.” He pulls out a remote control from his white coat. I remember what I know about nanobot medication—with this, he likely can do something to the nanobots swirling through my body right now.
And he does, before I can strike at him again. He presses a button on the remote, and suddenly my body drops down onto the bed. I can still feel everything, but try as I might, I can’t move a muscle below my neck. Only my head is able to move—uselessly, as the bots still won’t let me get this damn cock out of my mouth.
“What happened?” the boy asks. Kloss answers, “I’ve restricted her movement until she calms down. She won’t need it, in any case.” He thinks for a moment. “I guess I failed to explain to Dr. Chen how exactly your treatment would work, so she’s a bit confused. Why don’t you explain it to her like I explained it to you. I always wonder if I manage to communicate these things right to our patients.”
The boy seems to be happy with Kloss’s explanation and not in the least concerned with the fact that I look decidedly unhappy, lying belly down between his legs, his cock down my esophagus. He looks down at me and starts to talk:
“So, Dr. Kloss told me that the nano-virus is making my cock and balls so big and that it’s making me produce much more cum than normal as well. If I don’t regularly get that cum out, there could be damage down there, so… Basically, you’ll be sucking my cock until Dr. Kloss manages to cure the nano-virus.”
What the fuck? Kloss chuckles again. “A bit more direct than I would have explained it, but largely correct.” He turns to me. “You’ll be regularly emptying Mr. Alvarez’s balls so he doesn’t come to harm. I expect to have the cure down in a week or so, but of course you never know. It’ll be a good learning experience for you—direct patient contact with someone suffering from a nanovirus seems like something you need judging from your lack of knowledge.”
He sighs. “Back in the day, we made the nurses do this, but with the strength of their union nowadays… It is a good thing I have you, Dr. Chen.” What the hell is he talking about? A week? Sucking this guy off for a week? I don’t consent to this; I want out now. But I can do nothing but lie there and send furious looks at Kloss.
Kloss, of course, doesn’t react. Instead, he says, “Now, I don’t have all day, so better get her started soon. There seems to be still a bit Dr. Chen could have gone further; do you mind, Mr. Alvarez?” “No, no, go ahead,” the kid says.
Kloss positions himself next to me and, without me being able to resist, lays his hands on the back of my head and begins to push me even deeper onto the thick cock already stuck down my throat. I don’t know how I’ll be able to take him in even deeper, but Kloss doesn’t seem to care; he just pushes.
Before it wasn’t easy to get him this deep, but at least I was doing it at my own pace. Kloss now is merciless, and I can do nothing but try to relax my throat as much as possible to make the giant cock’s passage through it as easy as possible. Spit runs out of my mouth in spurts whenever he pushes, and for a moment I think that I’ll asphyxiate before I manage to inhale a tiny bit of air again.
I feel every little bit of the cock stuck down my throat. Perhaps the nanobots have made my throat more sensitive, or perhaps I am just one hundred percent focused on the giant meat stick stuffed mercilessly into me. In any case, I can even feel the veins on it brush against the flesh of my throat.
Finally, it reaches the very end of my esophagus. But there’s still a little bit of cock left for me to take in, and Kloss doesn’t seem like he’ll stop here, even with the increased resistance. I remember my anatomy—the tip of the boy’s cock is now pressing against the sphincter that separates my esophagus from my stomach.
My body has been violated a lot these past minutes, and it looks like this one last sphincter won’t be the one thing that stays unviolated. Another push and… it is pressed open. Finally Kloss runs out of meat he can stuff into me, my mouth now at the very base of the boy’s cock. Inside of me, my esophageal sphincter is now permanently held open, the tip of his cock pointing through, directly into my stomach.
“That last bit felt quite good,” the boy says. Great, he feels good from the rape of my throat. Kloss says, “Like I said, born cocksucker.” He turns to me again: “Now, Dr. Chen, don’t be alarmed if you feel like it’s hard to breathe. The nanobots produce a bit of oxygen themselves, and if worst comes to worst, they can shut off a few of your unneeded bodily functions to conserve air. Fucking great, at least I won’t choke to death on this fucking oversized prick.
Kloss again turns to the boy: “Now let’s start the actual treatment. Like I explained before, Dr. Chen will essentially be performing oral sex on you. However, with your condition you will need quite regular treatment, so we aim to make the experience as easy as possible for you.” For him? Make it easy for me, I silently scream.
Kloss continues, “Thankfully, using the nanobots, we can directly control Dr. Chen’s throat muscles. Normally, these are largely controlled automatically by your subconscious. You’ll notice that you can easily make them react by swallowing, for example, but you can’t willingly constrict only part of your throat.”
I hear a big gulp—it seems the kid actually tried swallowing. What Kloss explains is of course nothing new to me; I know all about the differences between voluntary and involuntary muscle movement. What I didn’t know is that the nanobots can even directly control those muscles, although I’m fairly certain that I’ll get quite acquainted with that function in just a minute.
“I’ll start her up now,” Kloss says, and there’s a small ‘click’—he must have pushed a button on the remote. Instantly I begin to feel my throat moving. It’s totally out of my control—the nanobots are in charge, not me. Rhythmic waves of muscle movement are traveling down the top of my throat to the very bottom. As my esophagus constricts over every part of the boy’s cock, I once again can feel every single vein and bump on it.
I look up as far as I can to catch a glimpse of the boy’s face. His eyes are closed, and he’s softly moaning—no wonder, with my throat giving his cock a full-body massage. “You can also alter the speed and such things,” Kloss says, and the waves rolling down my throat speed up quite significantly.
From the outside one likely wouldn’t notice anything, my body simply lying there motionlessly, only the head moving slightly. But inside, my throat is now expertly milking the boy’s cock, all without my input.
At least it doesn’t take him long to cum. With my enhanced sensitivity I can feel it coming long before he actually explodes—his member hardens, and then a thick heat travels down its length, right down my throat.
Finally, he erupts, thick and hot seed shooting directly into my stomach. Much more than should be possible, but of course that is his actual problem, the massively increased sperm production. In any case, my stomach gets loaded up with a sizable amount of cum, so much that I can actually feel it sit inside of me.
My throat’s convulsions continue for a moment, milking the last of the cum out of the spent cock, but then finally stop again. I feel spent—I've just done the equivalent of an exhausting workout with a group of muscles that were never meant to be used that way. And I don’t think Kloss has set the thing up to be particularly gentle with me.
“All good?” Kloss asks. Not me, of course; he doesn’t care about my well-being. He asked the boy, who answers, “Yeah, that was great.” “All part of the treatment,” Kloss says with a smile. “Now, you’ll find yourself getting ready for the next round much sooner than you think, due to the nanovirus. I’ve set it up so Dr. Chen will automatically start up again once necessary.”
He continues: “I need to leave now for a bit and check up on my other patients. I’ll come back later to see if everything’s alright with you. Here, take the remote control in case you want her to start earlier or you just want to have some fun with the settings while she sucks you off. If anything’s wrong, call for me or a nurse.”
“Great, Doc, thank you.” From the sounds of it, Kloss hands him the remote, and then before leaving, he says, “Let me put a blanket on you so you don’t get cold.” A moment later one of the hospital blankets is draped over me, robbing me of even the little bit I could see of the world apart from the boy’s crotch and cock. Then Kloss leaves, leaving me behind with the boy, his cock planted firmly in my throat.
There are some shuffling sounds from the boy, then everything goes silent. Perhaps he is reading a book, perhaps he is on his phone, or perhaps he is simply resting. In any case, it doesn't seem that he is paying me, still firmly attached to his cock, any further mind right now.
For the first time in a while, I have some time to think. Has Kloss really meant everything he said? He didn't sound like this was merely some kind of joke and I’d be freed any second now. I have to accept the sickening fact that he actually wants me to stay as the boy’s personal cocksucker until he is cured.
Vague memories of my med school lectures come to me. I remember that I actually have heard of similar treatments before—only in passing—but it seems like Kloss at least hasn't made all of this up. Why don't they just use some kind of machine for this, I desperately ask myself, but the reasons are clear: manpower is cheaper, even with the added cost of the nanobots.
As I lie there thinking, I am still intensely aware of the cock inside of me. How could I not be, with it filling me out so completely? At least I can breathe relatively easy now. My stomach is heavy with the cum that was pumped into it earlier. I wonder how much it truly is. One small relief is that I didn’t have to taste it, since the tip of his cock was so far below my mouth.
I stay like that for an unknown amount of time, lost in my thoughts. The only stimulus I have is the boy’s cock—occasionally it twitches, and over time I find it becoming harder again. Slowly, I feel it filling up again, pressing against my throat more closely.
Anyone else likely wouldn’t have noticed these slow, minuscule changes, but without anything else to do, I cannot keep my enhanced throat from noticing every small bit of the cock’s growth. Fucking fantastic, I think. Not only have I been turned into his personal cocksucker, I’m also the perfect dick-measuring device.
Finally, without any warning, my thoughts are interrupted. Not by anything nice, no, my throat simply starts milking his cock again, completely without my input. I guess Kloss said that I would automatically start again before the boy’s balls fill up too much.
The boy moans as my throat milks him dry. At least I now know that he is awake, not that it does me any good. It isn't as bad as before—I guess having your throat suck off a giant cock against your will is the worst the first time it happens to you. Soon, another load of thick cum is deposited in my belly (a bit less than before, I think—before, there must have been a longer time since his last orgasm), and my throat falls silent again.
This time, lacking anything else to do, I count the seconds until the next cock-milking session. It isn't easy, but if I know how much time is between each round, I feel like I have at least one tiny victory in my bag. And it isn't like anything else is there for me to occupy myself with, apart from the cock again very slowly returning to full mast inside of me.
In the end, I count about twenty-five minutes. Of course, I am without any ability to check the accuracy of my measurement. This time, the boy must have used the remote control, as I find my throat moving in different patterns, sometimes slower, sometimes faster. I just adjusted to the ‘regular’ version, and now he is switching things up on me again? It is infuriating.
But again, my throat manages to get him off relatively fast, and the constantly changing movements thankfully stop again. I feel like shit—this variant has taken more out of me than the previous ones. My stomach is now three-fourths filled with his cum—fucking amazing, right?
The next round is thankfully back to normal. I do absolutely nothing until it comes, nothing except for endlessly thinking the same thoughts and cursing my current situation. Only one thing happens—the boy starts snoring. Apparently him being asleep is no reason for me not to proceed, since my throat starts milking him regardless.
Must be nice to be able to sleep and still get sucked off by a beautiful girl, I think, giving myself a little compliment to at least only feel ninety-nine percent like total shit. Even in his sleep, he cums relatively quickly, now filling my stomach to the brim with his seed.
Feeling so full isn't great, but it is among the least of my problems. Still, I hope that some of it will soon move onward into my intestines to make room for the next load. You know you’ve made mistakes in life when this is what you’re thinking: I hope his cum starts moving out of my stomach so I have room for more.
Before I have much time to think about this longer, there suddenly is a lot of movement. He seems to be turning in his sleep, turning onto his side, and since I am attached to him by the throat, I am pulled along.
I come to rest lying on my side, his cock just as deep in me as before. The previous position wasn't great, but this one is somehow worse. My neck is now sandwiched between his thighs, and to my horror, I find it hard to breathe now, crushed halfway beneath him.
But Kloss hasn't lied; somehow the nanobots give me enough oxygen even after my body stops its fruitless attempts to breathe. It is an intensely weird feeling—how often do you actually stop breathing, after all? And occasionally my lungs still spasm, trying to draw in a breath. But I manage somehow; this is just another in a long list of trials.
Kloss mentioned something else in regard to that, I remember. Something about the nanobots temporarily shutting off non-relevant functions. What did he mean by that? Before I can think of an answer, the metaphorical lights in my head go out.
Essentially, the nanobots have decided that my higher-level thinking simply takes too much energy for too little gain while we are this oxygen-starved and so have turned it off. It isn't like I am asleep or unconscious—a part of me is still there, noticing everything that is happening to me. But that part is still my brain's automatic reaction to the stimuli entering it. As a person, though, I don't exist right now.
And so I unthinkingly lie there, my throat automatically performing its work in regular intervals. I feel how his cock grows again, feel my throat constrict, and feel the cum shoot into my stomach. But I don't consciously think about any of it; I don't connect it in any way. Things are simply happening to me.
Earlier, I asked myself why they don't simply use a machine for the task I'm now performing. Now, I myself am much closer to a machine than I ever wanted to be, unthinking and simply mechanically performing my programmed task.
Of course, I don't notice any of this in the moment, mindless as I am. It only comes to me afterwards, when I have enough air for the bots to allow me to think again. Again, it isn't really like waking up. One moment I am there; the next, I am still there but able to think again.
I take stock of the situation: The boy has rolled onto his back again, turning me onto my belly again and allowing me to breathe more easily (as easily as you can with a giant cock in your mouth).
He ejaculated three times in the meantime, and my stomach is mighty full, even though some of his thick cum must have finally made its way into my intestines. Everything else seems to be just as before, apart from the fact that he isn't snoring anymore and I occasionally feel slight movements from his upper body, suggesting that he is awake.
Losing my conscious mind has been a weird experience—another in the list of weird experiences I already endured and not one I want to repeat. But I can just hope that he won't move me into a position where the nanobots feel the need to conserve oxygen again.
The next cock milking comes relatively quickly. I know now that he is definitely awake, since he plays around with the settings again. I am a bit shocked when my tongue begins to move against my will, but of course the nanobots have control over that particular muscle, too. And so I give him a sensual tongue bath on the base of his cock while my throat milks his lower half as usual. Surprisingly, his cumshot still fits into my stomach, although I now feel even more bloated.
About half-way between that session and the next, if my internal sense of time still works, I hear the door to the room open. “Mr. Alvarez, how has it been going? Everything good?” It's the boisterous voice of Dr. Kloss. “Yeah, all good,” the kid replies. “She’s been… performing… quite nicely.”
“That’s what I like to hear from one of my best junior doctors!” Kloss says. It doesn't sound much like a real compliment. Suddenly, the blanket is pulled away from my head, letting me see a bit into the room again for the first time in hours.
“Dr. Chen,” he says, “good news! I’ve managed to reassign all of your shifts this week and the next, so you’ll be able to help Mr. Alvarez secure in the knowledge that the hospital isn’t going to fall apart without your skills.”
I try to give him a look that says, “I don’t care about that at all; get me out of here,” but conveying that message just with your eyes while your face is stuck in a guy’s crotch isn’t very easy, and Kloss likely does not care anyway.
I just hope he would at least let me move my body again. But Kloss doesn't seem to care about that, if he even remembers that he had shut off my control of the muscles below my neck. Instead, he says, “I’m leaving for the day now, Mr. Alvarez. Last chance to ask me if you need anything, although there’s of course also someone here for the night.”
“Actually, there is something,” the kid says. Please tell him to free me, please, please, please, I silently plead. He continues, “I need to take a leak, you know. How should I do that?” “Mr. Alvarez,” Kloss warmly says, “Dr. Chen is a professional. She’ll be able to handle that particular fluid just as well as your regular excretions. It may feel a bit unfamiliar at first, but you can just let go.”
What the fuck has he just said? Kloss continues, “Before I forget it, one of the very few benefits of your disease is that all of your body’s material and energy goes into producing semen. You’ll find that you won’t experience the need to defecate until you’re cured, so no need to walk to a toilet with Doctor Chen hanging from your groin.”
That’s great, but can we go one step back? Kloss told him to piss where? My silent rage yet again has no effect, as Kloss again drops the blanket over my face, says goodbye to the kid, and leaves.
And it seems like the kid had taken Kloss’s words to heart: I have become an unwilling expert on his cock by now, and the way it is filling up right now isn't the regular ‘I must cum’. Pressure builds up inside of him and, despite my silent prayers that he’d stop, finally bursts.
Hot liquid gushes into my stomach, mixing with the cum already sitting there. It takes several long moments in which a powerful stream pushes inside of me before he is finally finished. Earlier, I told you that if certain things apply to you, something in your life must have gone very wrong. Being able to discern the feeling of cum and piss pooling into your stomach must be another of these things.
I feel sick. I was no longer only his cocksucker; now I have also become his urinal. My stomach turns, half from the humiliation and half from the two kinds of liquid sloshing around in it. That goes on for a few minutes, me feeling queasy as hell but unable to do anything about it, until suddenly my stomach empties itself, pushing all of its contents into my intestines.
I instantly feel relief—for the first time in a long while, my stomach is empty again, and at least my intestines have enough room for all of the various fluids that have been deposited into me. I don't know if my body or the bots decided to open the floodgates, but in any case, it is appreciated.
Now that I finally feel half-way decent again, as good as someone in my current situation can feel, I wonder how I am able to so accurately notice the exact movements of the sludge of cum and piss inside of me. Normally, I certainly can't tell when the things I've been eating leave my stomach.
Is this another effect of heightened sensitivity caused by the nanobots? Or am I maybe just hyperfocusing on the only experiences my helpless body still gets? I don't know, and it doesn't even really matter.
In any case, my stomach does not stay empty for long. Just minutes later, the regular cock-milking session starts again, and another load of cum splatters against the walls of my stomach. Still, just one load—these are now rookie numbers for someone like me (which is kind of sad, but as long as I don't feel as bad as with an overflowing stomach, I don't care much).
In the time between the next two milking sessions (this was the way I saw time now), I notice another problem. I have taken up quite a bit of fluids, and like the kid before, I find myself wanting to take a leak.
But I am just lying there in the bed, and even if I wanted to make the decision to wet myself right there, I can't—the loss of everything below my neck also makes me unable to control my bladder. So I just wait while it fills up more and more.
Thankfully, before I have to find out if my bladder would just burst at some point, my savior arrives: Nurse Brenda. Brenda is an older, heavy-set woman who has been a nurse longer than I have been alive. She storms into the room, her voice as cheerful as ever:
“Mr. Alvarez, I’m your nurse for today; Brenda’s the name. Everything all right with you?” He must have nodded since I hear no reply. Brenda continued: “I’ll just check up on Dr. Chen quickly, all right?” Without waiting for his response, she pulls the blanket off the bed, revealing my miserable figure to the world.
“Oh, Dr. Kloss,” Brenda sighs. „He told me he had set everything up correctly. But not like this!” Finally, I seem to have found a single ally in this hospital. “I’ll get her set up all nice and comfortable, Mr. Alvarez. It will only take a few minutes!” The kid nods (which I now can see, straining my eyes up) and puts on headphones, apparently not much caring what happens to me.
Brenda keeps talking to herself as she works: “Dr. Chen, don’t worry, you’ll be much more comfortable in just a minute. Back in the day we nurses used to do this kind of stuff—I was a bit surprised when Dr. Kloss told me you’d be Mr. Alvarez’s therapy partner.” Me too, Brenda, me too.
“Let’s get you out of those sweat-stained clothes,” Brenda says. She is quick, and soon I am lying there completely in the nude, my clothes discarded in a neat pile in the corner of the room. Brenda gives me a sponge bath—while I would have loved nothing more than for her to free me, this is at least the nicest thing that has happened to me today, and afterwards, I feel much cleaner.
Next, Brenda rolls in a monitor, one of the types we use to measure patients’ vitals. “Let’s get you connected,” she says, grabbing the remote. Likely, my nanobots can interface with this monitor. It seems to work, as Brenda looks intently at the monitor—it stands so that I can't make anything out on it.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” she says. “They filled you right up. Don’t worry, Dr. Chen, Nurse Brenda is on the case!” Brenda grabs something from one of the room’s cupboards, then walks toward my backside. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she says, and indeed it doesn't; it only feels a bit cold.
It takes me a moment to understand what she has done, but when the pressure in my bladder releases slowly, I understand. Brenda has given me a catheter. A bit undignified, but again, I take everything I can get, and soon my bladder is blissfully empty again.
Brenda is the only person ever good to me in this damn hospital. She even puts some extra pillows under my body to make me more comfortable. I would have loved for her to give me some clean and comfy clothes, but apparently I am to remain in the nude, as Brenda puts a clean blanket over me, leaving me once again in darkness. Then she leaves again.
Brenda returns once that evening, bringing the kid his dinner. The hospital food is generally bad, but it still smells much better than what I've been ingesting today. Do I get food, too? Just as the thought goes through my head, my throat starts its regular milking of the kid’s cock again. As his cum shoots into my already filling up again stomach, I know that I at least won't go hungry, even if what I eat is far from my liking.
Soon the night comes, and the kid’s snoring starts up again. I try to sleep as well. It isn't easy in my position—the thick cock in my throat is one thing, but the feeling I get whenever my throat starts another milking session is even harder to ignore. I drift in and out of a shallow sleep, dreaming strange dreams that include way too many cocks and too much cum for my liking. So ends my first day as my patient’s personal cocksucker.