The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I thought I should go ahead and start writing a record of my life, as self-important as that sounds. It’s not like I’ve got much better to do; Zee won’t let me do any real work, so when I’m not travelling to the countless abandoned cities and ruins of our ancestors, I pretty much sit around or have sex. I’ve been trying to put together as much of our ancestors’ history and knowledge as I can – the stuff 15226 missed – because so few of you ever lived in the old world. Nina suggested to me the other day that I’m just as much a source of history as any relic I find, which prompted me to start writing my story. Egotistical, I know, but I think I’ve earned at least a little bit of this. So this is a record, from the beginning, of how I – Benedict Stanton – ended up as the progenitor of Humanity 2.0. Actually, scratch that, the girls always hated that name – and they can certainly outvote me. So they’ve all been calling our people the name Hannah picked – hominus.

It started with me getting sick. I didn’t actually remember getting sick, and certainly not as sick as I felt when I woke up. I just went to bed one night after untold hours of study for my organic chem final, and woke up in such a bad state that my roommate called the paramedics. I don’t even remember that part, that’s just what I was told afterwards. I had crashed at about one in the morning Saturday after who knew how many calls from some of my geek friends, who actually had social lives – unlike me. That was the last thing I remembered.

I’d never been so sick before; I’d had the flu bad once, and chicken pox, and a case of appendicitis when I was seventeen that was apparently almost ruptured when they took it out. Those were all nasty and painful, but this was worse. Given, at twenty-two years old in that era, I should have expected that, sooner or later in life, I would inevitably have a brush with my mortality. Still, to me that was always something that would come later, maybe when I had grandkids. No sense kidding myself, I thought – I wouldn’t see any kids in my life, let alone grandkids. It took monumental effort to even get girls to hang around with me, let alone touch me, which had led to my life being the romantic equivalent of the Saharan desert.

My eyes opened in the hospital, and for a time I couldn’t even think about anything, the pain was so bad. It was everywhere, every breath, every heartbeat, every tiny noise I heard from outside the room just sent more pain reverberating through me. It took interminable ages – but probably half an hour or so – for me to even get myself together enough to realize I wasn’t at home, or ask myself what was going on. Someone came into my room and adjusted something, and said something I don’t remember. Not long after, the haze started to clear, though I felt decidedly stoned – probably they upped the dosage on my painkillers. It was welcome, in any case.

It was a hospital room like any other. I was alone – there was another bed, but it was unoccupied. The room was painted a drab blue-gray, and there was some poster on the wall detailing various tracheal disorders. There was an IV in my arm, with who knew what mixed in with its saline solution. I didn’t get stupid and remove it, but I definitely needed to know what was going on. I rang the little buzzer next to my bed… hopefully it would summon somebody. A few minutes later, an orderly or nurse or somebody who wasn’t a doctor arrived, a barrel-chested middle-aged guy with partly covered old tattoos – he looked like he’d just stepped off a Harley and changed into his scrubs.

“Hey, son, how you feeling?” His rough voice only added to his biker dude image.

“Ach… gah….” My voice croaked. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was. I tried again. “Like… crap.”

“Hah. Sounds about right. I’ve got a few short tests to run on you here and the doctor will be right in.”

“Okay… what… yucchhhhh…” I coughed for a moment. “What happened to me?”

“I’ll let the doctor tell you on that one, buddy. Last I heard, they were still trying to figure it out.” I tried to keep my worries under control as he asked me some questions about my condition – if the pain was focused anywhere, what did I do the night before, am I allergic to anything, who’s your insurance provider, and some other things. Aside from the insurance, which was still on the old man’s policy – who knew, it still worked even when he was in prison – I couldn’t help him much. The pain was everywhere in my body, and I didn’t do anything unusual yesterday. I had spent the last three days basically cooped up in my apartment.

There was some good news – he was also here to deliver on something the doctor had cleared me on, codeine. He put it in my IV bag and wrote for a little while after we finished, gave me a big and probably fake smile, and off he went. He left me with some water to drink, at least, but I could barely use my arm well enough to pick up the cup. That occupied me for about fifteen minutes, during which time I started to feel the effects of the drug. Good stuff. It was another little while before a doctor suddenly barged in.

“Hi… Mr. Stanton?” She had a nice voice – I turned my head away from the window to greet her. That was a mistake. Whatever pleasantry I’d meant to return was lost in another agonizing symphony of pain. When it cleared, I saw her sitting down next to me. She was good-looking, though she was definitely not a college kid like me. She looked like she was about forty, a good forty; a woman who kept herself in shape. She had neat brunette hair cut in a short-bob, and dark brown eyes, and looked like she had a little Hispanic in her background – though she didn’t have any accent. Her expression was detached, at best. She was wearing one of those ubiquitous white doctor’s jackets, and her lapel read ‘B. LAZAR – MD, Intensive Care’. She gave me a perfunctory smile. “How are you feeling, Mr. Stanton?”

“What’s wrong with me?” There was no way the previous guy hadn’t told her my answer to the exact same question when he asked it just a bit ago.

She paused for a moment, giving me an unreadable look. “Don’t panic… but we’re not sure. We’re trying to narrow down the list, actually. I want you to try some things for me now that you’re awake. Can you help me?”

“Fine…”

She did that thing where they press on different parts of you while you breathe deeply, and checked my lymph nodes, all that. Nothing jumped out at her. She sat back in her little chair for a moment, staring at her chart, then looked at me for a moment. “I’d like to see if I can get you walking.”

“That… sounds like it’s going to hurt.”

“At first, yes. I’ll be here the whole time. I’m hoping this is just a rare kind of nerve pinching in the spine that can happen to sedentary people. If I’m right, moving should make the pain erratically come and go, or move it around your body quickly. Give me a few steps and tell me how you feel.”

I took a deep breath; it hurt almost as much for an obviously good-looking woman to so casually declare me ‘sedentary’. Was it that obvious? I wasn’t really overweight, though that was mainly due to my tastes in food luckily aligning generally with things that were healthy – certainly not due to any exercise habits. I looked like most any other male of the internet generation, save for my skin tone – short but not well-kept hair, definition lacking… my sister Emily had told me I could be a handsome man if I tried, but I had always just assumed she was being nice. About the only distinguishing feature we shared had was our odd background – it was sort of a running joke, actually, how we somehow managed to have roughly equal portions of just about every ethnic group on the planet. Dad had been a Hawaiian-born half-Japanese and half-Finnish, and Mom had been a quarter African-American, a quarter light Brazilian, and half Cherokee Indian. Basically, that meant the two of us fit in nowhere.

The painkillers had well and kicked in by now; I was dancing on the clouds. Just about any suggestion at all would have flown with me by that point. She helped me out of bed, and got me onto my feet. With her help, I took a few halting steps. I wouldn’t say it was agony, but it didn’t improve my condition. She helped me back towards the bed, but just as I reached it, my right leg decided the hell with me, it was taking a break. I fell forward, and with a shout I tried to grab the edge of the bed, missed, and groaned in pain as I fell – almost knocking her to the floor on the way down.

A few seconds later, I was back to my senses. I’d somehow managed to flip sideways and land on the floor, though my head landed on her foot – I wasn’t really injured, just in even more pain. The IV stand clattered to the floor next to me. I gathered myself, and tried to sit up on my forearms. Looking up, I saw Dr. Lazar staring down at me… she looked completely zoned out. I reached out with an arm to try to get her help standing up, but she only stood there, staring at me… I followed her eyes, and realized she wasn’t staring at me exactly – at least, not at my face.

My damn hospital smock had fallen off to the side, exposing my lower half. My goods were on display for all. Instantly, I felt ashamed. My own lack of endowment was yet another source of insecurity with regard to girls. Girls expect a minority man to have a big package, and I just wasn’t. She had to be giggling to herself at this non-man she was treating now, and his small –

Wait a second… I don’t remember ever being that big when I was soft. By now, I was also staring at my cock, for somewhat different reasons. Like all men can certainly do, I could clearly recall the dimensions of my equipment. I’d seen it God knows how many times when I was in the shower, getting changed, and yes, I admit I used to stroke off day and night. This was still my tool, but it was somehow much, much larger – I used to be two inches soft, and now I had to be maybe six. A pair of much bigger, heavier balls rested against my thighs. A flash of panic shot through my head. Had it swollen up with some kind of infection or disease? Oh God, they’re not going to have to amputate it, are they?

I replaced the smock and managed to get the doctor’s attention a few seconds later. She shook herself, and looked just as confused as me about something she was thinking of, then helped me up and onto the bed. I tried to act like nothing happened, but worry got the better of me.

“Actually, doctor…” I choked on my voice for a few moments. This was going to be incredibly awkward, but I had to know. “Uh, about what… you just saw. Um, please don’t think I’m making this up or using this as some dumb pick-up line or something—“

“Shoot it.” She blinked. “The question, I mean, just ask me. I’m a doctor, Ben, don’t worry, yours wasn’t the first I’ve seen, and it won’t be the last.” Suddenly, a little smile appeared. “You can be a little proud of yourself, Mr. Stanton.”

I paused, taking in her meaning. I hoped I’d read it right that she was just telling me I was apparently bigger than average. “Um – that’s it, though. I mean – every guy has seen his… equipment, before. Mine isn’t supposed to be that big.”

The doctor still seemed distracted. I’d expected her to laugh off what she thought was some inept sexual advance. When she finally turned her eyes back on me, she looked perplexed. “Can you give me a little more detail?”

“I mean, I’ve seen it a few times this week, when I, uh, saw it. I’m not half that big. I was shocked, seeing, uh, that, just now. I’m worried. What do they call it? Elephantiasis?”

“Elephantiasis has a lot of other symptoms, and your penis would look visibly unhealthy; yours, on the other hand, looks pretty good. Looks pretty healthy, I mean.” She corrected herself quickly, though she’d said the first comment with a far more personal sense than the detached and clinical tone she’d started in. She switched back to it presently. “It more commonly affects just the scrotum and testes in men, and the most common cause is a parasitic infection; we would have seen that right away on your blood work. I didn’t see anything all that out of the ordinary with your ‘equipment, really.” Her hand reached out, suddenly pressing against my crotch… and the tip of my penis, under the hospital smock. The decidedly less clinical tone crept back into her voice. “I’ll take another look, though.”

I raised an eyebrow. I’d had my penis examined by doctors before, by female doctors even, during routine physicals – just like they checked everything else. I never saw one have a look on their face beforehand like hers was then. She laid me back on the bed, and glanced over at the door. Why did she check the door? With a quick motion, she pulled the smock off my lower body again, revealing my cock a second time. I couldn’t resist, and sat up on my elbows again. She still had that same look, staring at my cock like it was worth a million bucks. To someone other than me, I mean. Oh – a million bucks was a whole lot of money at the time. Her hands slid along my waist, no gloves, and started to touch me.

No.... I swallowed. This isn’t touching. This is definitely… caressing. She cupped my balls, looking at each in turn, while her small hand closed around my girth. I felt the first pulse of my flaccidity’s termination as blood flowed into the stiffening pole. She gave an experimental pump to my length, which made me flop around a bit, though I was sure I would soon be rigid. Should I try to think of something else? Will she be offended if I get a hardon? My mind raced, but my body had already decided to head off in its own direction – reacting directly to the unmistakable stimulation she was giving me. She even gave her lips a short lick. Suddenly she took off her jacket, tossing it onto the countertop a few feet away, revealing a much more feminine appearance – a simple black turtleneck that hugged her boobs, which I guessed were C-cups, over a gray pencil skirt and sheer pantyhose. With a little hop her ass was planted on the side of my bed, and both of her hands were back on my prick, toying with it further as my length ascended into truly impressive stiffness – and utterly dwarfing any erection I would have had prior to that day.

“Umm… doctor…”

“Hmm…. Just bear with me, Mr. Stanton. I’m testing the plumbing.” She smiled at me, but her hand continued its light pumping of my shaft. I felt the first bit of pre-come escape and dribble onto her bare skin. Definitely not clinical. “You were worried about swelling. You see, the male penis is designed to swell. That’s how it becomes erect, it’s vaguely like an inflammation. If your cock – um, penis has normal flaccid and erect states, that’s a sign of good health.” Another short jack. Her good medical explanation was being betrayed by her almost predatory stare at my dick. A part of me was incredibly aroused, and the other part incredibly anxious. First I find out the thing somehow doubled in size overnight – while I was really sick, too – and now the first good-looking woman I meet is just grabbing it and giving me a handjob. Much as every man likes to fantasize about what life would be like if they had a bigger tool, I couldn’t quite convince myself that every big-dicked guy out there was getting this kind of treatment from any girl who happened to accidentally see his penis. Something really weird was going on, but I was still weak, and she was hot; I wanted to do more with her so badly…

“Dr. Lazar… um…”

“Call me Bethany.”

“Okay… Bethany. Call me Ben, I guess. I’ve never had an exam like this one, uhh, can you walk me through what comes next?”

“Oh… sorry, missed that step.” She took both my balls, kneading them back and forth, and she shuffled herself a little further onto my bed… and turned her torso a little to face me more. Her back bent down. Oh, God – she isn’t really going to do it, is she? “We’ve established the basic functionality of your cock. It’s a good sign that you can develop a nice erection for me so quickly. Don’t be ashamed, you’re a man and that’s what the male organ does in reaction to a woman’s body. I know in college you hear from these crazy feminists who guilt-trip you about being a man, but you shouldn’t apologize for wanting girls, Ben. I’m glad you have an erection for me.” She brushed her hair back behind her ears. “Now, I just want you to let go. The male penis is first meant for sex, and the easiest way to make sure it’s all right is to just perform a simple test. I’m a woman, you’re a man… it’s very easy to administer.” She licked her lips again. “I suppose a little extra stimulation wouldn’t hurt.” With a quick motion, she pulled her turtleneck up, revealing ample breasts under a simple white bra, and then she unsnapped it too. Her tits bounced free, giving a pleasing jiggle. My eyes focused on her brownish nipples.

“I can tell you’re nervous, Ben. Stop thinking for a few minutes and just live in your body. It’s a sign of a healthy body that a man wants sex. Now, this test only requires you to ejaculate. If seeing my tits and using my mouth can help promote your health, then I’m glad to help you.” She had this grin the whole time like she was just making up bullshit as she went along. She had to be, but before I could mention it, her lips descended to my shaft. My eyes went wide as her tongue extended, and I shuddered as it first made contact. This was miles beyond any medical exam, that much was very clear no matter what she said. Had something else happened while I was sick? Had I been unconscious for ten years, and missed some massive sexual revolution?

Her head passed my crown, and my cock was finally, once again, after two years, back in a warm, wet female mouth. I gasped, and let out a long breath. She took my length halfway down, then brought herself back up, very slowly, then ran her tongue around my head a few times before licking up and down the shaft again. Every motion was so slow and deliberate… and so delicious. My anxiety finally decided to stop fighting for the driver’s seat; whatever questions I had, could wait until the action was done. This chick was obviously ready to finish this right here and right now, and in my state it wasn’t like I could fight back even if I tried. As I let go, I realized my cock was only just now reaching full erection. There was no measuring stick around, but it was much bigger than any overnight phenomenon could account for – my old four-and-a-half inch length when hard was now, also, easily doubled. Even in porno I’d not seen a shaft like I saw on my own body right then.

As she drew her mouth and tongue up my pole, it seemed to go on and on, and it felt amazing. When Cathleen had sucked me off a few times two years ago, it had been a short and uncomfortable experience – but I had been so horny that I came anyway, without even having time to warn her. She thought I did it intentionally, and hated the taste of come – after the third time it happened, she seemed furious with me. It ended two days later, ostensibly about her needing space, but I always suspected it was because I was awful in bed and that thought dragged me down for years. Now, though, it was as if premature ejaculation simply wasn’t a concern. The amazing sensation only built slowly over time, and never threatened to just fire off without warning.

I leaned my head back and basked in the pleasure for a few moments, then returned to meet her eyes directly. I definitely liked it like this more – just the sensation was good, but looking her in the eyes while she worked to please my rod, seeing that smoky desire in her expression… that was what brought it together and made it real. Sex had never been like this before for me. By now she had changed her position, and curled herself up into a kneeling position in between my legs – focusing herself totally on sucking my manhood. I wasn’t some kind of sex aficionado who knew a good blowjob from a great one – at least, not back then – all I knew was how amazing it was. Every lick, every nibble, every manipulation of my penis and balls was deliberate, gradual, exquisite. This was a woman who knew men and what they wanted. My excitement boiled; I had no idea where this gift had come from, but I certainly didn’t want to give it back. Why my cock had decided to grow itself to nine inches long hard, overnight, was for later.

Her head bobbed up for a moment, and she smiled at me. The doctor’s hand ran up and down my shaft, making a wet and messy sound as her copious spit lubricated her jacking motion. “Tell me how that feels, Ben…”

“Oh, God…” I flexed my cock in her hand, which had more effect than I thought it would. It visibly expanded my meat for an instant. “It’s so fucking good.”

“Hmmm… I’m glad to hear it. I want you to finish this test, Ben. It’s fine if it happens in my mouth. I want you to, actually. Just lie down, don’t fight or hold back anything you feel, and let your penis do what it’s meant to do.” I groaned again as the tip of my shaft disappeared past her lips again, and she descended once more. There was an increased urgency now, and her hand went to the base of my dick and started pumping. Her grip was tighter now, no longer the light teasing motion she’d started off with just to make me hard. The pace of her bobbing up and down increased, and she was focused less on the languid tongue-bath action of before… now she was applying massive suction, and her spit was oozing down all over my waist.

I had heard about girls who could somehow suppress their gag reflex – and given my current size, she’d just about have to if she wanted to get more than half of me into her mouth, so she had to be one of them, I thought. I felt my crown touch the back of her throat, and slowly she pressed her head down further. I felt my length barely fitting inside a tight, hot, slimy place, and sensitive as I was, I could feel even her heartbeat through her neck as my cock slid ever so slowly down her throat. She had changed up her angle now, and my cock was pointing downwards, straight down her throat. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced up until then.

She couldn’t do it for more than a few seconds at a time; soon I popped back out of her throat and was again enjoying the attention of her tongue on my cockhead. I couldn’t believe the whole thing, still; my head was swimming in a combination of painkillers, eroticism, and suppressed anxiety. I remember wondering if I was much worse off than I thought and they had me on something that was making me hallucinate. If they did, some voice in my head popped up with, then this fantasy had to be leaps and bounds better than whatever horrors my real body was going through. My speculation was wiped out as I felt a pulse of something in the base of my cock. It was so powerful that I didn’t at first recognize it – I had always had such short and weak orgasms before, I didn’t even know what hit me when my super-sized endowment started to perform its task. She must have seen it coming before I did, and sucked her mouth closed, clamping herself over my cockhead. Her hand flew up and down my length, making little drops of her wet spittle fly around as she pumped me to orgasm.

My pain was temporarily forgotten as my cock took over everything. I felt a singular blast of pleasure shoot down my pole as the first rope of semen was released into her willing mouth. Almost instantly she swallowed, and in that time my shaft spurted a second load into her mouth. I groaned again and again; had I been in better shape I might have yelled, but that was all I could manage. She swallowed again, gulping down everything as my orgasm kept going well beyond what I was used to – my cock was just pumping away. I’d never known such pleasure, and for it to go on and on like this was simply heaven. It was tapering off, and in reality the whole experience probably didn’t even last fifteen or twenty seconds. Even so, with my head full of painkillers and confused as hell, I very clearly recall that first orgasm of my new life. It was the first of many – very, very many – but I’ll never forget it, as long as I live.

A sheen of sweat had developed, making my smock stick to my chest a little. Bethany’s tits were still dangling free from her upturned shirt. She rose up a little, making a big show of finally releasing her lips from my cock with a pop. A thin line of gooey come connected my slimy pole to her mouth, which she eagerly caught in one finger and sucked in. Christ, she’s amazing. I hope this isn’t the only time I’ll ever get to feel this. My pole was sensitive now, though not uncomfortably so like I remembered it being when I came before. She came up onto her hands and knees, and tilted her head back – exposing her neck to me. Closing her mouth, she took a big gulp and swallowed the last of my man-stuff that was still lingering in her mouth. I remember, it was that moment in which I knew that no porno would really ever be good enough for me again. Real women existed that wanted hot, wet, and messy sex. I tried not to think too much about how much of my life had been wasted on thinking otherwise – besides, this whole incident was prompted by the wholly impossible situation with my cock going from below average to legendary overnight, right?

We were staring into one another’s eyes for a few precious seconds, volumes somehow being spoken. She was more than ten years my senior, far more worldly and educated than me, and probably had a hell of a lot more money. Yet somehow, in her eyes, I saw this deep, passionate need. She wanted me, the way people wanted food and water. At the time, I couldn’t understand; after all, I was the only one who came, right? I remember feeling a bit ashamed of that; I’d always had this fantasy that someday I would find the Right Woman, and she and I would just hit it off and on our first night together, I would make her come twice for every time I did. Reality had other plans, but I couldn’t complain – and somehow, in that few seconds when we only looked into one another’s eyes, I sensed that she was quite satisfied, for now. It would be a while yet before I understood what really happened, both to me and to her.

Our special moment was interrupted by the door opening. I gave a start, but Bethany gave much more of one. We both looked over wide-eyed, to see that same guy from earlier walking in. He wasn’t even looking at first, just pushing his cart with what was apparently my breakfast, and checking something on his phone. He looked up.

Even now I cringe at how awkward that moment was.

Really, it was just as much an empathetic reaction to Bethany. I realized instantly that however much trouble I was in, it had to be nothing compared to her. Here she was, topless on the job, a supposedly educated and dignified woman of probably forty years – and she’d just sucked off a patient, on his hospital bed, completely out of nowhere. This wasn’t to mention they had never diagnosed what was wrong with me. For all they knew, I was contagious. No matter what happened now, even if she somehow got away with it, people would talk about her, and she might lose her license. She was frozen in place while the guy and her stared at one another. The guy looked stunned more than anything, but then he gave a little chuckle. There was nothing new under the sun to him – he wasn’t offended, he just didn’t expect it. I wondered if maybe we could talk him out of reporting it.

That hope was dashed instantly when a nurse, a portly red-headed woman in her fifties, rounded the corner and walked in. Her jaw dropped, and she gave a yelp. Her hand slapped up to cover her mouth while she blanched, turned and ran out of the room. Bethany had her hand held out toward her and was about to say something, but the nurse was already gone. The guy looked back at me and her… then he shrugged and backed his cart out. Maybe he thought he was doing us a favor, thinking we’d get another quickie in since we had nothing more to lose now. The mood was gone, though; she slid off the bed and straightened herself up, putting her bra back on then pulling her top back down. With an air of dignity, she pulled her doctor’s jacket back on. She smoothed it over as she turned back to me, pulling her clipboard back up. She’s not going to keep up that stupid pretense of a real medical exam even now, is she?

I relaxed when she gave me a knowing smile. She pulled a card out of her pocket, and wrote something on the back of it. She pulled open the drawer of the little table next to me, and I saw my clothes were in there. She deposited her card on top of them, and winked at me.

“Well, you seem healthy enough to me.” I paused; come to think of it, I was feeling better. Not great, but far better than when I woke up. The surprise blowjob must have had some effect on whatever was causing the pain. “I’ll write you a quick prescription for some painkillers, stay on them as long as you need to. In the meantime, get some rest, plenty of fluids, all that. If you feel worse again, call me, even if it’s the middle of the night. My cell number is on the back.” She gave me a little smile. “Or just call me whenever.”

“So… I’m okay to go?” I sat up. My back didn’t protest so much that I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t going to run any marathons today, but I could probably hobble back to my place.

“I have to run the paperwork through, so give it an hour or two until that clears. Oh... also, when you first came in, you were completely unresponsive. They called the campus registrar and got your emergency contact… your, uhh…” She glanced again at the paperwork she’d so casually tossed aside earlier. “Sister. Emily? I didn’t speak with her myself, but they said she was on her way here from New York. They wanted me to tell you she’s expecting a call back as soon as you’re able. Now I have something of my own to take care of… so, remember to call me.” She smiled again and walked out, and I would have sworn her ass didn’t sway like that on the way in. I resolved to see more of her than her tits, but that would have to be for later.

The guy – I never did get his name, wish I had – had been thoughtful enough to leave the breakfast cart nearby. I wolfed it down, surprising myself with how hungry I was. Once the food had settled, I felt even better. I stood up, and did a few stretches. Another nurse came in, a younger heavyset girl who seemed affixed with a perpetual frown. I felt far too good to let her get me down, and to her I must have been insufferably chipper. She took a few last tests and removed my IV, and gave me something to get filled at the pharmacy downstairs. I was given my papers, and a tentative clean bill of health, and was outside an hour later – wearing my jeans and shirt, with a full bottle of something-exor in a little bag. I’d ridden to the hospital in the ambulance, apparently, when my roommate had come home (for once) and seen me passed out on my couch, and been unable to wake me up. I didn’t feel like calling him to come pick me up, and it was midday so the buses were running. I hopped on the city tram and showed my student pass, and off we went.

I got home a half-hour later. My roommate was gone again – you know, I never did find out what happened to John in the later years – and I sat down. I was hungry again, and made myself some sandwiches… and wolfed them down again, with the same strange hunger. I tried to dial Emily’s cell phone, but it said she was out of service range. Probably on a flight here… or not. Em was kind of a mystery to me back then. I tried to pretend looking again at my new anatomy wasn’t the first thing I wanted to do – but finally I gave in, and went into the bathroom with a measuring tape.

I was now five and a half inches soft, and just over nine hard. My God, what happened to me? My high spirits from the blowjob this morning were almost wiped out at the renewed worry that something completely unknown was having its way with my physiology, and who knew what it planned to do next. Maybe it would do the same thing with my head. Or my feet. Or maybe it had taken all of that mass for those new cells out of my brain matter, making me a drooling idiot now and didn’t even realize it. I wondered; should I sit down and start slogging through some math, just to test myself?

Or maybe, some usually-ignored voice that sounded in some distant corner of my mind said, you’re the luckiest guy ever and you had the time of your life today, and you should just roll with it.

As always back then, I could never make up my mind. That’s what anxiety is all about. Whenever I try to tell the girls who mention they’re conflicted and worrying themselves too much these days that I understand what they’re going through, they just roll their eyes at me. The younger ones tell me they simply can’t imagine me being anxious about anything. I try not to let that get to my ego... much. The girls closest to me, particularly Bethany, Emily, and my oldest daughters, they know that I’m not lying. I used to be a real mess, and all I knew how to do was study. I was swimming in college debt, had no parental safety net, was barely able to make rent, had virtually no social life, and had no idea if the mechanical engineering degree I was squeaking by toward achieving would actually amount to anything given my pathetic job history.

On top of that I was becoming genuinely worried I would spend my whole life alone; I had hardly any friends and had only had a handful of girlfriends. I was out of shape, scrawny and gawky, and had only recently picked up contacts to replace my quintessentially nerdy heavy glasses. Even my internet friends had begun to lose touch with me when I lost interest in all those online video games that were brand new back then. It’s also poorly understood in this era, but being of… varied ethnic background, in that day and age, caused some difficulty with social acceptance in many circles. That’s one thing I definitely don’t miss about the old world.

So anyway, it was right about then, standing there with my pants down and a measuring tape against my dong, that I met the Experimenter.