Certified Quality Men - Chapter 2
Foreword:
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. It was a little harder to finish than I thought at first but totally worth it.
Also, I'd like to thank everyone that sent me a message regarding the last chapter. You've all been really supportive and nice. I'm open to further feedback if anyone feels like it. :) edizejavi@gmail.com
Now I'll keep on writing the next chapter. Things are getting spicier!
Cheers, Eddy
And please remember to make donations to Nifty if you can. This is a very interesting project that we should keep alive. You can do so at https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
He was the first thing you'd notice in the room. Wearing nothing but a straitjacket and securely chained to the wall by his neck, waist, and ankles. My latest failure. As soon as I entered my lab, his dark eyes darted in my direction, his predator instincts as sharp as ever. But he probably had already heard me coming from far away or even smelled me before I had opened the door. Creating a man with highly developed senses had been a success.
And giving him the build of a true fighter had also been a success. He was a hunk, tall, and olive-skinned. His musculature was well developed, his body fat minimal, his shoulders broad and powerful. He was strong enough to crush someone's skull with his bare hands or rip someone's head right off. Hence the restraining. You wouldn't want to be trapped in a room with this animal. That was the part I had failed.
The process of building a man from the ground up is very complex. Over the years we had encountered many obstacles, especially when we began to focus on building not just a regular man, but the perfect soldier. Making them so big and strong, with an emphasis on them being violent and battle-ready was challenging because, at first, we'd end up with extremely strong fighting dogs, with very low IQ and, the worst part, perpetual sexual overdrive. They would try to destroy anyone they saw, even when we tried to build them to be loyal. That's when I began working on my father's company, and solving this issue had been my mission from day one.
After some years of research, I eventually understood human sexuality enough to shut it down, and now we had men ready to be sold as soldiers. They were superior to their natural-born counterparts, bigger, faster, stronger, sleepless, and always focused on the task at hand. Our board of directors (or, as I call them, the Suits) saw their lacking sex drive as a positive, one less disciplinary problem to solve. But I wasn't in this game to make "better" soldiers. No. I wanted to build perfect men.
And how could they be perfect without using all those superhuman abilities to fuck?
This rabid dog here, uselessly trying to free himself from his shackles, was my last attempt at solving this issue. At first, I thought he'd be angry and horny just enough so that, with other adjustments to his memories and instincts, he'd be able to contain himself and follow orders. But I was wrong. He went into a rampage as soon as he woke up for the first time. We had to stop him with enough tranquilizers to put a feral lion to sleep.
But I had made some progress. I had managed to get him instinctively aroused by my smell, so even if he was freed he wouldn't try to kill me, just fuck me like the beast he was. And now every time I got into the room he instantly gets an erection, just by the scent of my sweat. I had him always pantsless so that I could see that happen, his large dick springing to attention never got boring. It's important to find happiness in the things in life you can control.
I slowly walked towards him, soaking in the view, and he stopped struggling, looking at me anxiously. I cleaned some of the drooling caused by his ball gag, and thought maybe I'd have some fun before going back to work. The meeting with the generals had been stressful, but now we had finally ended the hard part of the negotiations. The legal department would take over from here, I could finally focus completely on my research. Besides, with his overdeveloped genitals, this guy needed to be drained every day. Otherwise, he would overflow and spill his cum all over the floor. So why not make this chore something I could enjoy?
I made sure to keep him always clean, but he struggled against his chains so much that he constantly ended up sweaty and short of breath, looking at me in a silent rage. I put my hand over his hard chest and could feel it going up and down at a rapid pace under the thick fabric of his straitjacket, the long sleeves forcing him to hug himself and making him unable to get away from me. Not that he would, anyway. I ran my nose over his cheek and through his neck, lightly caressing him and taking in that intoxicating scent. He had a musky sweat, but also vaguely sweet, like ripe fruit. I couldn't get enough of it. Like most things on his body, his sweat had more pheromones than the average man, so it was an inebriating aroma, like entering a locker room full of dirty men, or diving in a pile of their used jockstraps. At first, it was a somewhat offensive smell, like having too much garlic in your food, but his pheromones would quickly kick in and you'd feel relaxed, excited, and slightly more interested in his manly features.
I gently ran my nose over his neck, sniffing him, and moaning softly. I loved how little I had to do to have him rolling his eyes, almost losing control over himself, and then finally closing them, lost in desire. The slightest display of affection was enough to have him momentarily forget he was chained against his will. But then his inhuman willpower would show itself again, and he'd shake off these overcoming feelings and hold tight to his awareness, staring me with a mean look. And all I had to do was please him a little more, and he'd lose it again for a few seconds.
His dick was rock hard, as it always was when we were in the same room. I rested my hand on his broad shoulder and looked at it, making sure to keep on massaging his chest. His cock was pointing right up, twitching every time I touched his nipple, and had veins so full of blood that you could almost see his heartbeat on them. His foreskin was fully retracted, but when I grabbed his dick and pulled it forward it completely covered his head, gathering the small drop of precum that had appeared on the tip, and then retracted again when I let go, spreading it evenly and making him well lubricated. Such an ingenious design.
I grabbed his balls, not so gently. He jumped up, startled by the mix of threat and sudden pleasure, and I lightly squeezed them just enough to get a complaint out of him. I loved having a man so big and strong at my mercy, and by the look on his eyes, he wasn't sure if he hated it or loved it. Maybe he hated that he couldn't help but love it, but this was what he was literally born to do. I kissed his neck and slapped his balls a little, to get a feel of how big and heavy they were. He tried to close his legs and protect himself, but his feet were securely restrained apart enough to make that attempt useless, and he was forced to present his cock and balls to me at all times.
I took a step back, getting my hands off him. He shook his head violently, like someone drunk trying to sober up, and again gave me a very mean look. This man was pissed. But as soon as I kneeled in front of his dick his face changed from angry to curious, almost hopeful. He wanted this, and we were rapidly approaching the point where he would be too horny to pretend otherwise. I smelled the tip of his cock, his scent was much stronger down there, and with a violent twitch, a drop of precum appeared, then began trailing down, running along his shaft and balls, and then finally forming a long rope all the way to the ground. It's as if I had turned a tap on. I touched the tip of his dick with my nose again and smeared a little of that clear liquid all over my upper lip. The salty taste was delicious, and now I was constantly feeling the effect of his smell on me. I loved this feeling, and while I did that I looked up and saw he wasn't making angry faces anymore. His eyes only shouted one word: "Please."
"Okay, then. Enough teasing. Are you ready?" I asked, and didn't wait for an answer before trying to swallow as much of his big cock as I could. He grunted through the ball gag, drooling again, and stood perfectly still as I began sucking him, slowly but deeply, steadily increasing the pace as his grunts became louder and louder, his desire to break free and take charge of the situation stronger and stronger. But he couldn't. This monster was my toy today, and feeling my tongue run through the underside of his shaft and then caress the head of his cock, paying attention to the frenulum, was overwhelming. I painfully opened my mouth as much as I could to fit him in, but simply forgot about the discomfort when I looked up and saw he was thunderstruck, unable to react. With one of my hands, I pulled his ballsack down, using just enough force to make it a little painful, but his cock immediately became even harder. He clearly liked being handled roughly. Then, with my other hand, I began slightly caressing his asshole, using a little bit of my spit to make it nice and wet. He moaned again, approving of this sensation, and tried to open his legs a little more to ease the access to his hole. But it just wouldn't relax enough so that I could get my finger in.
"What's the problem?" I asked, standing up and getting close to his face. He could feel the taste of his own cock on my breath. "Just relax a little more" I whispered on his ear, kissing it lightly and massaging his hole all the time. He closed his eyes and moaned, a little frustrated that I wasn't sucking him anymore, but relaxed a little bit. Not enough though. It was incredible how tight he remained even after I had used his hole so much over the past days. His sphincter's muscles were so strong that it would probably always be as if he had never been fucked before. Luckily, I had a way around this.
"Alright, then. Let's see if you like this." I took off my shirt. put my hand behind my head and then ran my armpit over his nose. My smell always had a strong effect on him, but smelling my armpit directly was a sensory overload. I wondered how it must have felt, having a nose as sensitive as a dog's, and then being presented to the sweat of a man like this. He moaned loudly and then began sniffing me as if this would be his last opportunity to do so. His whole body became relaxed, especially his asshole, giving in to my intruding finger with a moan of painful pleasure. Once inside, I easily found his prostate, which was bigger than what you'd find on a natural man, and began massaging it. This new level of excitement became too much for him.
A red light flashed on the screen on my desk. I was monitoring his vitals and had activated a warning for when he was ready to shoot his load. I immediately stepped back, stopping everything I was doing. He opened his eyes and looked at me, confused, demanding I kept on pleasing him. The ball gag muffled his protests as I waited a few seconds, got on my knees again, and began sucking his dick and massaging his prostate with all the energy I could. That was kind of a challenge, given the size of his cock, but I was proud of my skills. Controlling my gag reflex, I tried to deepthroat him all the way to the base of his cock, but it was too much. "What a fucking giant," I thought, glad that I would have all the time in the world to keep practicing on him and eventually become the perfect cocksucker. Meanwhile, I kept looking up at him, his eyes rolled up, his mind gone. Another red warning, I stepped away again. This time he protested even angrier, short of breath, trying to hump the air in my direction. But the chains kept his waist stuck to the wall, and he had no option but to cool down a little.
We kept up with this dance, on and off, warm and cold, stop and go, for a few more rounds. Every time he would get ready to cum even faster, and if I simply touched the head of his cock with a fingertip he would lose it completely. I swallowed him until I could feel his trimmed pubes touching my nose, but then another red warning would come, and I would stop it again. And again. And again.
He wasn't himself anymore. Actually, he wasn't anyone, just a dick closer and closer to the edge, incapable of thinking about anything else, of feeling anything else but how tense his prostate was, ready to spasm in huge ropes of cum, but being denied that release. And then the next time he'd be brought even closer, unimaginably closer. He wasn't breathing anymore, just inhaling and exhaling now and then, when his brain had a second to remember he had other bodily functions besides cumming to worry about. This was it, my favorite part. This is the most complete control you can have over a man, completely emptying his mind of any thought other than a helpless plead: "Please let me cum." Another red warning, another denial, and he began shaking. He had lost control over his muscles and was having spasms, drooling and holding his breath, unable to free himself from the straitjacket to touch his dick and get this over with. He was also instinctively humping the air, trying with all his might to feel as if he was fucking something, but his cock would just bounce up and down, feeling nothing but a cool breeze and uselessly swinging a rope of precum. I think I was close to breaking him. Poor guy. So strong... so helpless.
I didn't want this to end. If it was up to me, I'd keep on edging him closer and closer to orgasm, but would never give him the satisfaction. But this past hour of torture had got me to my limit, I didn't have the stamina to keep going. Besides, I still had work to do, so it would be better to just finish this. But by "finishing", I meant that it was time for me to cum and go back to work, not to have mercy on this animal.
I went to my desk and grabbed a device I had invented a few years ago. I was frustrated that, no matter how hard I tried and how closely I paid attention to the red warning, there would always come a moment where the subject of my research was so close to the edge that he would cum by the lightest touch of my finger, having the most intense orgasm of his life. Sadly, that used to happen way before I was finished having fun, and was so frustrating. So I figured, why not automate the whole process, and let machines do the job much more efficiently than me?
So I made this special cock ring. It was a white rubber band, perfectly smooth and elastic enough to be fit any man, no matter how hung he was. It also vibrated and was connected to the monitoring system. So it would vibrate until the man was close to the point of no return, and then stop and wait for him to be ready for the next round. But it was so sensitive that it could do a much more precise job than I ever would, so it would keep on edging the man until he was so excited that his next heartbeat would be enough stimulation to push him over the edge. It was really something. Also, I couldn't help but feel this was some kind of brainwashing. No human brain was properly equipped to feel this much arousal. During the later stages of this process, they would begin having vivid hallucinations and speaking nonsense, a feeling very similar to using a potent entheogen.
I couldn't wait for that to happen.
I attached the cock ring under the base of his cock's head, the most sensitive part of his body right now, and then watched as it vibrated in an uneven rhythm, going fast then slow at random intervals until he was again ready to cum, and simply stopped. He began shaking again. As he cooled down against his will for the hundredth time, I began jerking off, getting as close as I could to him without us touching. I loved how much bigger his dick was than mine, at least half as long and much thicker, and how big and heavy his ball hanged compared to mine. The ring went on again, then stopped, and he roared like a wounded bear, almost crazy with that much frustration. His deep voice startled me, I opened my eyes and saw his face red with rage, his eyes wide open, but unable to focus on anything, and the veins on his neck almost exploding. This scene was too much, and the sight of this powerful man so lost in lust and frustration, but completely unable to tear apart his straitjacket or to break his chains, no matter how much superhuman strength he applied, finally did it for me. I came hard all over his big dick and balls, covering him with my seed, and my mind seemed to had been shot away with all that cum. La petite mort, the most incredible sensation the human body can have. For a few seconds, it was a complete blank and I felt absolutely complete as I shot load after hot load over this massive, veiny cock, itself unable to shoot its own load.
But I had miscalculated. I wasn't meant to touch him in the slightest, and he was now so sensitive that the warmth and touch of my cum was enough to make him explode. And he shot rope after rope after rope of thick, white sperm, so strong that it hit me on the neck and all over my chest. "Fuck!", I said, angry at myself for making this mistake after so much hard work, but he kept on shooting. It must have been 9 or 10 times already, and he just kept going. I was impressed at how strongly those loads were hitting me, I could feel how hard he was cumming. And as they began dripping through my torso, running down my abs and getting to my legs, he kept shooting, hitting me straight in the chest. How much seed these guys produced never ceased to amaze me. He was shaking and spasming, hitting his head against the wall and finally breathing freely, but as hard as if he had just run a marathon. Those must have been some blissful moments after so much suffering.
"Fuck." What a waste of time. I could have edged him for at least a few more hours, made him suffer so much longer... And as I thought that the cock ring began vibrating again. His cock had already begun to soften a little, but the ring was still attached and would be until I removed it. He moaned at first, uncomfortable, his post-orgasm oversensitive cock head completely not ready for this much stimulation. "Well", I thought to myself, "maybe it wasn't so bad after all."
The device was still monitoring him and had sensed that now he wasn't anywhere near cumming. So it went on at maximum speed, trying to get him to the edge again. But, instead of being pleasuring, this much vibration was an excruciating torture. He went into a panic, trying once again to free himself, shaking his hips and swinging his now soft but still long cock, trying to get that thing off. But he couldn't, and the more it vibrated, the worse this feeling got, and the more it sensed he wasn't aroused, so it just went on. A happy oversight on my part when coding it.
"Ok, now, calm down," I said to him, mocking his pain. "This will go on until you come again, but that will take a while. So just relax and enjoy the ride! It's not like you don't have an option." He shouted, and looked at me menacingly. I thought about how much more handsome his anger made him and enjoyed the show for a little while longer.
I thought about cleaning myself, but honestly, I simply found it relaxing to have his smell all over me. His cum was like the distilled version of his sweat and had much more potent effects. I sat at my desk and began focusing on my work as he slowly went through all the phases of our edging routine for the second time in a row, with no time to calm down. How hadn't I had this idea before?
But a system message took me away from these thoughts. It was the result of the tests I had running. I hoped that they would help me find out what exactly I was doing wrong and why I was ending up with feral dogs every time I tried making a perfect man. But these results were different than what I was expecting. At first, they didn't make any sense to me. They seemed to be pointing to some kind of pattern that I had never discovered, but that would be impossible, DNA patterns were my bread and butter, how could there be a new one?
But then it dawned on me. This wasn't just a simple genetic pattern, it was far more complicated than that. It involved all sorts of different factors on a person, their genetic makeup, their memories at key moments in life, their instincts, and even how UV radiation had affected and mutated all these other factors. I couldn't believe it. This must be it.
The sexual profile.
If I was right, this would mean that I finally had the key to understanding the exact things that turn someone on. Not only their sexual orientation but all their likes and dislikes, their dos and don'ts. With a simple drop of blood now I would be able to know if someone liked tall men, skinny men, dominating or being dominated. If they felt aroused by feet, if they fantasized about being gangbanged, or if they truly wanted it to happen, not just in dreams. There would be no secrets anymore. I could know everything.
I ran this profile test on my poor friend on the wall to see what it would look like compared to a natural person. As it was being processed it turned my attention back at him, he now had his dick rock hard once more, and seemed completely exhausted, panting as the cock ring did its job. It sensed him once again ready to shoot and it stopped, but this time he only moaned softly, as if he didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Poor fucker.
The results came in, and I saw what I had gotten wrong. His profile was all over the place. On one hand, he was completely dominant, a side effect of building him to be a fighter. On the other hand, he was heavily influenced to be passive, had a strong desire to serve, and to make me happy. But those two things weren't balanced out, as they would on a natural human who enjoys playing different roles in bed now and then. He was maxed out at exact opposite directions, and that made him contradictory and confused. Angry and lustful. That's why he couldn't decide if he liked our games or if he hated me. I had built a sexual Frankenstein and hardwired him to be horny at all times. That would never have worked.
But I was excited. This discovery meant a whole new world was now possible. My mind raced with the different possibilities of sexual profiles I could build, and how I could balance them around a soldier much more effective than the ones we were building. If I could somehow tie their sexual gratification to their work, they would simply be far more effective. Just as capable as our current model, but far more motivated. After all, sex makes the world go round.
I heard a moan and looked up. My Frankenstein was still going. I walked over to him, my spirits lifted. "Don't worry, man. A few more hours and you'll eventually blow your load," I said, grinning. What a nice day. Now all I had to do was sit down and plan this through.