An Inventive Boy - Chapter Two
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction which features sexual activity of a pre-teen and teenage boy. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, I'd recommend that you bail out right here.
I'd love to hear from readers and I'll try to write back. My name is Zane. If you want to get in touch, please email me at wantstrat63@yahoo.com
If you are enjoying this series, I invite you to read my other works that have been published in Nifty. For an easy way to find those stories, go to the Nifty home page and type WANTSTRAT into the search bar.
If you can, please support Nifty with a financial donation - whatever you can afford - so that this archive of stories can remain free and available. Just go to http://donate.nifty.org/
+++++++
Chapter Two - Stimulating But Shockingly Dumb
A favorite hangout of boys when I was middle school age, (regardless of sexual orientation) was an establishment that sold old scientific equipment, military surplus electronics and all kinds of assorted junk. It attracted all of us young mad scientists like moths to a flame. I could ride my bike there with my buddies and spend hours going up and down the aisles of the place, looking at all the cool old junk. Once in a while, we'd even buy something. So it happened that on one summer afternoon I made such a purchase. I found it in a bin that held dozens of them, marked "WWII field telephone generator." It was a great looking heavy metal contraption about the size and weight of half a brick. It had a crank and some gears and a coil rotor, with two electric leads with short wires attached. When we held those wires and turned the crank a little, it delivered an electric shock! What boy could resist owning such a contraption? So I plunked down my $1.99 and carried my treasure home in the basket of my bike.
Of course at the time there was no internet, so I really had no way to look up information on my new gadget, but today I can search the web and easily find it. It came from an EE-8 military field telephone, and it was a GN-38-B generator that you'd crank to send a ring signal over the wired tele-communication system. To accomplish that feat during wartime, it had an output of about 75-90 volts at 20 to 30 Hertz when it was cranked. By the way, voltage in that range can be considered lethal, but more on that later.
It was such a cool little gadget, I just knew it could be put to good use in some future project. Perhaps it would come in handy for the 8th grade science fair, or maybe I could use it to generate electricity out in the woods on a camping trip. That field telephone equipment was used in WWII and Vietnam by the thousands, and the generator from one of them ended up in my bottom desk drawer, innocently waiting for its first peace-time application.
It was on a sunny afternoon when I was alone in the house, up in my bedroom contentedly masturbating over the underwear pages of the Sears catalog, when I remembered about the old WWII mechanical relic stashed away in my drawer. As I lay there stroking my boner, I wondered what it would feel like to apply a little shock treatment to my stiff pride-and-joy! (I know, what could possibly have gone wrong with that). I paused my stroke session and went over to my desk, opening the drawer to pull out that old army equipment that I was now hoping could be used stimulate my boy equipment.
I looked at the two wires... copper core and wrapped in insulating cloth. I knew that I had to figure out a way to touch them to my boner without poking it. I remembered something I'd seen in the toolbox we kept in the bottom of the hall closet. Hose clamps, they were metal and round and just might work! Still naked and fully erect, I padded down the hall and retrieved the toolbox from the closet. There, underneath a set of open ended wrenches was what I needed for my new invention... two small hose clamps, the kind that you'd use to repair a garden hose, or in my case, attach electrodes to my erect penis.
I went back down the hall to my bedroom, my boner leading the way in anticipation. Sitting down at my desk, I twisted the ends of the copper wires leading from my GN-38-B military generator to the hose clamps, now boner electrodes. Then I used my flathead screwdriver to open up the clamps, because of course, my teenage erect penis was "much" larger in diameter than the garden-variety garden hose those clamps were meant to repair.
My stiffy was throbbing in time with my heartbeat in anticipation of what was about to come next.
I carefully slipped the metal hose clamps down the shaft of my stiff dick. I positioned the first one at the base, so it was nestled against my pubic mound and the skin that stretched down to the top of my ball sac. I slid the second clamp about halfway down my penis, leaving about 2 inches of length from it to the tip of the engorged, purple-ish glans of my mushroom head. I used the screwdriver to tighten them both until they were just snug, then backed them off a turn. Finally, I carefully checked the wire connections to my penis electrodes to eliminate the danger of a short circuit. I sat back, looked down and admired my handiwork. The old U.S. Army GN-38-B was on my desk, ready to crank to life once again after a long hiatus from the battlefield. The two ancient cloth-insulated wires ran to the spring steel hose clamp electrodes ringing the erect shaft of my penis. In anticipation of the moment, a string of precum had started to drizzle from my pee hole down to my flat, smooth belly just above the wispy pube hair patch. I had the Sears catalog propped up on my desk, open to boy's briefs in the underwear section. Everything was ready... checked and double-checked. What could possibly go wrong?
The generator had a spring-loaded, flip-out black Bakelite crank handle. By previous experience, I knew that holding that crank and giving it just a partial turn would pass the armature over the magnets of the GN-38-B to deliver a strong electric pulse over the wires. While turning it, you'd actually meet slight resistance in the mechanism with each pass of the armature over the magnets. I wasn't stupid... I knew that it wouldn't take much of a crank to do the deed. After all, I just needed to stimulate my teenage boner, not send electric current over hundreds of yards of wire across a battlefield to ring the next field telephone. I held the GN-38-B in my left hand and took up the crank handle with my right. I looked up at the smiling boy in the catalog, happily modeling the latest pair of tight, bright white underpants that the Sears Company had to offer, held my breath, took one last look down at my turgid, twitching boner, then carefully gave that old black Bakelite crank a bit of a turn.
HOLY SMOKES! The jolt to my penis made me jump from my desk chair, lifting my naked butt clean off the seat! The electric shock from just one pulse of the generator had slammed my dick like a sledgehammer and coursed through my entire body, down my legs and up my abdomen! I paused to look down at my junk to make sure everything was still there and it was not smoking. I noticed that my penis had gotten much stiffer and was standing up proud like a soldier at attention. I reached for my screwdriver to loosen the electrodes a bit, then looked up at smiling catalog underpants boy and gave my new "Boner-Master 67" another really good crank! HOLY CRAP! I had turned the crank further that time, so it probably delivered three electric pulses to my stiffy, and it almost knocked me out my chair. It felt like my dick had been slapped with a baseball bat and the shock through my body had caused my feet to kick out under my desk!
Thinking back, it was probably my youth that had saved me. If I'd taken that kind of jolt today as an adult, it likely would've stopped my heart. I wouldn't say the sensation of electricity coursing through my penis actually hurt. It was more like the type of strong, devastatingly intense sensation that would cause you to holler, "STOP!" if a messing-around buddy did it on you on a sleepover or campout. I now had found the limits of my new device, and decided to administer only one pulse of electricity to my penis at a time. This, I began to do, looking up at my Sears catalog briefs boy while sending single pulses of current to my dick with slight twists of the generator crank. Each jolt made my entire body tighten more and more until I'd have to stop and take a break. During the breaks from electric stimulation, I'd stroke the outer two inches of my penis that extended past electrode #2 between my thumb and forefinger. As soon as I felt my heart rate slow back down, I'd resume administering electric current to my teenage dick in one-pulse jolts.
Oh wait... Had underpants boy in the Sears catalog just winked at me? I knew it was time to take myself across the finish line. I took the tip of my penis between thumb and forefinger and began gently stroking, taking myself to the point that I could feel my teenage sex muscles getting that urgency to take over. I wanted my "Boner-Master 67" invention to take me past that edge. Just as I felt the clenching about to begin, I let go of my dick and gave the crank of that old U.S. Army relic just one more little twist. I needed just one small electric pulse to trigger the launch sequence...
The extreme clenching of my young loins had to be the most intense climax I'd experienced to date. My milky-white teenage boy-nectar shot out in long ropes, arcing over my chest and belly. Some of the first two shots of jit landed on my face. My penis rose up and fired each volley of semen like a fire hose, dropping down a bit, then rising to ejaculate the next round. I had ten magnificently satisfying teen boy-gasmic clenches, splattering my face and naked body with slippery cum. It had been epic!
I sat back in my chair, shivering. I looked up at the Sears catalog and underpants boy was still there, sporting his crisp new pair of tighty whities, smiling slightly and looking past me, perhaps trying to save me from being embarrassed by my cum-splattered appearance. I reached for my tissue box and began the mop-up process, starting with the small river of jit that ran down my cheek, dripping off my chin and landing on my chest. My deflating penis began to recede from the two electrodes, leaking semen on them at it shrank down in size. They slipped off easily and I checked my dick for any signs of burns or other injury from the shock treatment it had just received from the old U.S. Army GN-38-B. Turns out that it had field tested quite well.
On that sunny afternoon at my desk with my regular stoke-buddy, the Sears catalog underwear boy as my witness, it hit me what a truly durable organ my teenage penis was. It has endured many punishing trials over the years, especially during my feckless youth. What is it that they say? "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." On that day, I felt like "Boner Ultra Boy." I know... Shocking but true!