Chapter Two: The Experiment

By Noam de Pluma and S. Q. Neemie -
published April 23, 2021
3209 words

Aaron takes his work laptop home to test the parameters of the spreadsheet. He’s never had a blowjob before…maybe the spreadsheet can help out with that?

Aaron hopped on the bus, found a seat, and closed his eyes, determined to avoid the gaze of every passenger who could smell his shame. Which, so far as he was concerned, was probably all of them. He’d pretend to be asleep all the way home until it was time to get off… er, until it was his stop. Quite against his better judgment, he analyzed the day’s events in his head. While he kept on coming back to the words “what,” “the,” and “fuck,” in that order, a nagging, impossible fact kept rising to the front of his mind: everything weird that happened to him, to his coworkers, to his boss, was connected to the spreadsheet. Every single thing.

Take George. Usually he came in, did his thing, and left. Single-minded. But one tweak to the sheet and something changed. Why couldn’t Aaron place what? Aaron cringed as he kicked himself for being so unobservant. He knew something out the corner of his eye changed for George, but he had no clue what. But it happened the instant he changed the sheet. And then all insane, sexy hell breaks loose just as he adjusts all the other numbers? What are the chances? Radon gas his ass. No group of five people just start having the exact same damn hallucination. Wes’ hard, gym-rat body humping the air. His massive, incredible, sensual bulge. The complete lack of disgust from Xav, the hunger on cute Ahmed’s face…

Shit, he was hard again. Aaron clenched his eyes shut as he remembered the rush of arousal. He hadn’t felt that turned on since that one party back in college where - no. Not that again. His face burned at the memory even as his cock throbbed. The spreadsheet. Xav’s spreadsheet. He absolutely had to investigate it further tonight.

When he finally got home to his one-bedroom apartment, he slammed the door and leaned against it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Safe. Finally. His first stop was the bathroom. He stripped down and blushed at the sticky wetness along the left thigh of his pants and underwear. It was so dirty. How could he have let that happen? What got into him? He braced himself on against the counter and closed his eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. His mind swam with memories of the afternoon. Ahmed’s adorable face, Wes’s bulging crotch, Xavier’s masculine nonchalance, his own raging libido…

Slowly, his heart stopped pounding, and he realized to his horror that he was hard again, all five inches standing at attention. No! This was wrong! He felt dirty, not aroused. Didn’t he? Right? Desperate to avoid another panic attack he finished stripping and threw everything in the hamper, even his shirt, which was still clean. It all felt tainted somehow. He ignored a bizarre urge to inspect his underwear more closely and hopped into the shower, hoping to scour his feelings of shame away.

Nearly an hour later he finally stepped out of the stall. He had long since used up the hot water available to his unit and was pink all over from vigorous scrubbing. The shower had done him some good though - despite resembling a soft, pink, wrinkled prune with a sopping-wet mop of hair, he finally felt clean. Well, more clean than he did earlier, at any rate.

Already his memory of the afternoon was fading somewhat. Like he could look at it objectively, as if it happened to someone else. He glanced down to make sure he was still soft - the last thing he needed right now was for his dick to remind him that he had, on some level, enjoyed what happened - and dried himself off. A nap, a hot meal and two hours later found Aaron sitting on his couch in his pajama pants flipping channels aimlessly. A news show talking about new data released from some sexual health research? Flip. Some CSI plot where for some reason personnel data contained in a spreadsheet was the linchpin to solving the crime? Flip. Homoerotic vampire show with bulging crotches? Flip. Everything reminded him about the spreadsheet, and now, separated from his traumatic afternoon by time and a hearty meal, he couldn’t ignore his curiosity about it.

That’s all it was. His analytical brain had been presented with a mystery, and he needed to solve it. Pure and simple. With a weary (and wary) sigh he turned off the tv, got his work laptop, brought it over to his desk, and fired up the spreadsheet. Huh. That was weird. Hadn’t everyone’s ks score been zero, except for him and Ahmed? Then why did the sheet show him:

<Spreadsheet 3>

He experimentally tried to change George back to 0, but the sheet made its angry buzzer noise, the cell flashed red, and it returned to 1. Same for Xav and Wes… what the hell? Aaron right-clicked the cells and found that, sure enough, the acceptable range for those three was now 1-6, whereas it had definitely been 0 earlier. He sat back and unconsciously rubbed himself through his pyjamas. This was, bar none, the weirdest spreadsheet ever. He never typed 1, and he undid everything before collapsing. Where did that value come from? He inspected the change history of the sheet, but to all indications nothing had ever happened. None of his changes were recorded because none of them were saved. To all indications, he was looking at the sheet in its original form. He failed to notice that everyone’s L score was a touch higher than before. Everyone’s except Xav.

Aaron examined the cell formulae again, desperate for any clue, but it still looked like a mix of corrupted data, deliberate code, impossible commands, and unfamiliar characters. Even Google came up empty. He sat back and stared at the sheet again, only realizing after several seconds that he was rubbing himself. Well, he guessed that made sense. It was his time of the week. He batted away the fleeting feeling of shame that bubbled up in his mind. Sure, most 24-year-olds jerked off more than once a week, but who said he had to be dirty like them? Once a week helped keep him focused. Never mind that he just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life earlier that day - clearly his body was used to some relief on its regular schedule, so it only made sense he’d be ready for more. He got up to lie in bed, not realizing he’d brought the laptop with him, as if operating on some subconscious impulse. He laid it to his side as he shimmied out of his pyjama pants and reached for his lube and Kleenex with one hand while he fondled himself to life with the other.

His hand slid up and down his shaft, which quickly grew to its full 5 inches. He closed his eyes and sighed, picturing men. Men like… like Ahmed. Small, round-featured, eager-to-please men. He worked his hips and sighed with contentment. Men who would make him feel safe, who would be devoted to his pleasure. In his mind a harem of soft, young, pliant boys flitted by to kiss him, massage him, rub him, blow him. Aw, yeah, a blowjob. He could only imagine what one would actually feel like. He adjusted his grip to just barely glide over his shaft, tickling it like he pictured a tongue in a warm, wet mouth might. Occasional images of bigger, beefier, men - men with cocks he could suck - blinked into his imagination, but he pushed them away. Youthful twinks were his type. He breathed heavily as he imagined an army of Ahmeds utterly devoted to his pleasure, the wet squelch of lube getting louder and louder as he stroked.

On a sudden impulse he opened his eyes and looked to the side where his laptop lay open. The spreadsheet stared at him, his cursor ready on his own ks cell. For the first time, he noticed tiny up and down arrows at the edge of the cell outline. Could he use the arrow keys instead of typing numbers? He placed his finger on the down arrow, then closed his eyes to re-focus on the army of nubile, attentive Ahmeds in his mind. Press His cock was feeling better and better, but he refused to grip and jerk to completion. His light touches kept him on edge and he pictured each one as coinciding with a flick of Ahmed’s tongue. Except now it wasn’t always Ahmed - or at least the same Ahmed. Now it was a more feminized Ahmed, with bigger eyes, poutier lips, and bigger hips. He tweaked his cockhead and thrust his hips, unable to contain a quiet sigh of pleasure. Press Now Ahmed’s hair was longer, flowing down to frame his face in soft curls. And the fleeting images of beefier, bigger men were harder to push away. But they weren’t interested in Aaron anymore. No, they were interested in… Ahmed? Aaron watched in his mind’s eye as suddenly a muscular, masculine man not unlike Wes appeared behind the new Ahmed, clearly prepping to fuck him from behind even as the femme twink continued to blow him. Press The man winked and grinned at Aaron, grabbing their living fuck-toy’s hips for leverage as he plunged into Ahmed’s pussy. Suddenly they were giving each other a high-five, doing the Eiffel Tower, plugging Ahmed from both ends while they egged each other on.

Aaron looked down at the hot chick who looked a little like Ahmed and smirked. Suddenly his Wes-like fuck buddy was gone. Who needs another dude when you’ve got a babe all to yourself? He imagined making out with her, drilling into her pussy, as he gripped himself harder and pumped faster. Press A harem of girl-Ahmed’s. Serving him, licking him, riding his pole. He moved his hand away from the keyboard and began rubbing himself all over, relishing the feel of his fingertips on his head, his nipples, his thighs, his balls… The Wes-like figure returned, along with a solid silver-fox daddy, joining him in his depravity. Yeah, an orgy. They’d split those pussies together, like men. He began to fixate on their cocks, how they looked as they thrust into mouths and cunts, the power they exuded, the shared goal of working as a group to achieve sexual nirvana… He opened his eyes and noticed the spreadsheet slowly raising his ks score, one point at a time, but he was so close to cumming he paid it no mind. Slowly the women became more masculine. No breasts. Shorter hair. Squarer jaws. Cocks. He lost himself in the feel of getting blown by an Ahmed while he sucked on the daddy silver-fox and the gym rat lined up to fuck the twink…

His eyes shot open and his hand flew from his cock. Fucking? Ass fucking? Since when did that turn him on? He stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. His cock, so close to orgasm, stood twitching in the glow of the laptop.

He looked over. Sure enough, his ks was 4. His mind exploded. The Kinsey scale! It’s the only thing that made sense! His analytical mind took over and the rest of the pieces fell into place. Cock size. Kinsey. “L” for… he cast his mind back to his hands-free orgasm, Wes’ lewd behaviour… ah, libido. Of course.

He had no idea how it was possible, why his Kinsey score reset itself, or why he couldn’t seem to get anybody else’s back to zero where they started. His cock was still hard and straining, demanding satisfaction, and planting an idea in his mind that, well… maybe he wouldn’t have to imagine what a blowjob felt like anymore?

He grabbed his hand towel and wiped up the lube. No need to taste that shit. He resumed a light, methodical wank, enough to keep him hard but nowhere close to getting him off. With this left hand he moved the cursor over to his cock size cell and happily noted the arrow icons. He propped himself up on his elbow, looked down with bated breath, and pressed up.

He nearly passed out for the second time that day. The sensation of his cock growing an inch was almost beyond description. It was like, in the span of a microsecond, his hardon got hard again, another erection growing inside it. It tingled and pulsed, sending waves of pleasure through his body and straight to the pleasure centres in his brain. His hand, which could comfortably grip the shaft, now almost had to strain to reach around. And his head, a bulbous mushroom cap, protruded invitingly from his clenched fist.

He never stopped stroking himself. He took a few moments to enjoy his new length, marvelling at the extra nerve endings to play with. He swirled his fingers around his newly engorged head and bent down to give an experimental lick, and of course got nowhere close. He was only six inches, after all.

Press press press “Ohhh, fuck me fucking fuck fuck fuck!” The cry burst from his mouth involuntarily and his hand flew off his cock as he was certain he was about to cum. Aaron lay on his back, clenching and twitching every muscle in his body, determined to hold back his wad. The heat and bolts of pleasure that radiated along his cock nearly sent him over the edge in and of themselves, but somehow he held back. He looked down, absolutely agog at the monster that sprouted from his groin. Nine fat inches, wider than he could grip, he was sure of it. Ramrod straight, refusing to lie along his belly. It gushed precum, replacing the lube he had wiped off just minutes earlier. He took an experimental stroke from root to tip with a single finger and moaned. It was more sensitive than ever.

He experimentally pressed the massive tube of flesh against his belly, eyes widening at how far it reached. The entire head and then some extended past his navel. Was that enough? He sat up and bent forward, tongue stretching as far as it would go, but he was just shy of his goal. Another couple of inches couldn’t hurt, right? Press press

He threw his head back and howled. No wonder Ahmed freaked out at the office! No wonder Wes was out of control! The feeling was so intense he was positive he’d go insane if it lasted any longer than the split-second it took to grow. His new equipment was long enough now, he was sure of it. Finally succumbing to its own weight it lay along his body, head wedged near the bottom of his rib cage. He cocked an eye open and gasped at the sheer girth of it - the head an angry purple mass was nearly as large as a kiwi. Could he even fit it in his mouth? He smirked. Only one way to find out.

Aaron kicked his legs over his head and bent as much as he could, staring his 11-inch python right in the eye. He took an experimental lick, and moaned. Just like he remembered. It only happened once before, but that lone time he sucked dick, the sensations etched themselves into his brain. The salty, syrupy feel of precum. The spongy yet firm feel of the helmet. The heat on his lips. Only this time it was paired with an incomparable wetness on his cockhead, a strong, slippery friction that made him twitch and gush even more pre. Being on the giving and receiving end of a blowjob was almost too much to bear. On autopilot he began to work his hips and relax his jaw, slowly taking more of his enormous leaking prong. At the same time he reached to the keyboard and hit the right arrow twice, bringing the cursor to rest on his libido score. And he pressed up.

Moving one number at a time didn’t do much immediately, but its cumulative effect didn’t take long to notice. The more he sucked the better it felt, and the better it felt the more he sucked. It was incredible. The feel of his cockhead and part of his shaft buried in a hot, warm, wet mouth was better than he could have imagined, and way better than jerking. But why not get the best of both worlds? There were at least 8 inches of dick his mouth couldn’t handle, and he moaned around his gargantuan prong as he started to jerk. Press press press press press press press press press

Slowly his focus narrowed, focusing more and more on the sensations of his first-ever blowjob. He could feel an orgasm building, bigger than what he experienced in the afternoon. His Kegels tightened, his skin was on fire, and waves of incessant, urgent pleasure rocked him to the core. He lived to serve his cock. He was a cock. He was wet, hard, jerking, twitching, moaning… He came. Waves of cum roiled up his enormous shaft and spurted into his mouth, giving him no time to swallow, spilling out of his mouth and still he kept spurting. He laid on his back choking on his own load, tears streaming from his face, a never-ending orgasm wracking his body with pleasure and, increasingly, pain. Once again his programmer instincts kicked in and his left hand mashed CTRL+Z for all he was worth.

Slowly, torturously, his titanic orgasm tapered off until his cock popped out of his mouth, still twitching but firing blanks. He spat up a gout of his own cum and turned to the side, sputtering and choking as spunk dripped out of his nose. He lay back in a daze, unable to motivate his body to move. He was still unbearably horny and painfully hard - clearly he had more to undo - but badly needed time to recover from his ordeal. He simply rode the wave of his arousal and afterglow, the discomfort of his still-hard cock mixing in with his post-orgasm euphoria. Streaks of cum slowly dried on his face as he stared at the ceiling.

Nearly a quarter of an hour later he finally mustered the strength to roll to his left and stare at the screen. Cock size: 11. Kinsey scale: 4. Libido: 123. Jesus Christ. He right-clicked his libido and selected the bottom of the range, a much more reasonable-seeming 47, and hit enter. Almost instantly his body relaxed and his dick finally began to soften. Aaron stared at the sheet, and then unable to find the energy to do anything else, slammed the screen shut. Within moments he was sound asleep, drying cum slowly gluing his face to the pillow.

Mind Control
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