Date: Mon, 28 Jan 2013 00:10:51 -0500 From: John Marshall Subject: EcstasyInc Chapter 27 In trying to avoid the most common plot scenarios featured on Nifty, this story continues the saga which began with "Ecstasy Island,"continued with "The Working Boys," followed by "Ecstasy Renewed." "EcstasyInc," like the previous segment, is unorthodox but quite seductive, as are the figures depicted. Like "Ecstasy Island" and "The Working Boys," and "Ecstasy Renewed," this one is also written in third person and proceeds in something close to real time with extensive dialogue to carry the story along and intense character development. Most of the characters from the earlier stories have returned, but there are also quite a number of new characters which will occupy the main spotlight in this segment. Once more, this story is extremely orgasmic with all ejaculating dialogue written in UPPER CASE. If you do not wish to be exposed to such material as described, leave now. If you are too young for this sort of thing, leave now. If reading this causes you to break the law where you live, leave now. Otherwise, take the time now to get naked and get your cock hard, start strokin' it. Jack yourself off as you read and see if you can time your own blasts of naked sexual pleasure with those of the people in the book. This one averages about two to three orgasms per chapter. For that reason, I don't recommend reading more than one chapter at a time. Any more than that might be hazardous to your sexual health...especially your hard, throbbing cock. Note: The inclusion of any actual individuals in this story is in no way meant to suggest actual occurrences or their sexual orientation. All drugs mentioned are fictitious. If you like what you read, let me know at crackerjacker18@hotmail.com. ECSTASYINC CHAPTER 27 "How's your cock?" Dr. Tony d'Angelo asked Buddy Bristol as he set about disconnecting the boy from the infamous Cox Pharm "milking machiine." "Startin' to get a little raw," Buddy admitted. "It sucked me off ten times...good thing you put that big plastic bag on this thing instead of that little bottle. "Makes me sore just thinking about it," the doctor admitted. "How can I cum so MUCH?" Buddy questioned, his words no longer couched in little-boy macho pride. "Well, if it'll make you feel any better, what you're ejaculating is NOT semon...not a trace of sperm either," the doctor informed him. "I thought it was all the same thing," Buddy said in surprise. "Well, sort of," the doctor smiled at the boy's biological naivete. "Your prostate produces semon, which contains sperm from your balls. The two come from different glands. Want me to explain more?" "Right now I'm more interested in getting free of this thing. I'm hungry. What time is it?" Buddy questioned. "It's a little after six a.m. and the cafeteria doesn't open until seven," the doctor told him. "If it's not that...that semon stuff and it's not sperm, what IS it?" Buddy's mind turned from his noisy stomach to his misbehaving groin. "Piss?" "How's he doing?" Dr. Mike asked as he returned from a few hours of shut-eye on the waiting room couch. "Starting to ask questions...sore penis..." Tony told his colleague. "Not surprising after...how many orgasms?" "TEN," Buddy told them irritably. "Get him some Dermaline," Mike ordered. "Right." "He said I wasn't shootin' cum," Buddy questioned Dr. Mike as Dr. d'Angelo left for the in-house pharmacy. "What IS it then?" "In a word, fluids," Mike said, "mostly water." "You mean I'm shootin' PISS?" Buddy asked in dismay. "No...it's not urine...your urine flow seems to be fine and this isn't coming from your bladder," Mike continued. "Where IS it comiing from then?" Buddy asked plaintively. "Buddy...where to begin...okay...you've a right to know..." Dr. Mike sighed, taking a deep breath. "Your patch..." "What about it?" "Your patch contained a substance we call T-40. It's a derivative of Testosterone...you know what that is?" Buddy shook his head. "Testosterone is a male hormone...the major one," Mike began. "It's the stuff that makes you manly...or WILL, when you get a little older. Of course, inasmuch as you've not entered puberty, your body produces only tiny amounts. As you get older, you'll start making more and more of it. It'll cause your voice to get deeper, your cock to grow bigger, pubic hair, sperm production...basically everything that differentiates you as a boy from the man you will become." "So, what's this T-40 shit?" Buddy asked, feeling the urge to orgasm once more creeping up on him. It had been almost a half-hour since his last siege of sexual pleasure. Mike smiled. "That's a very good term for it," he admitted. "Apparently your body does not tolerate T-40 very well, or else someone upstairs...or more likely, DOWNstairs grossly overestimated the dosage needed to a produce significant reaction. I'm betting probably BOTH." "So how come I'm cumming so much...and so...god, doc, I'm needing it again," Buddy squirmed, his cock hard and rigidly erect. "You want me to hook you back up?" Mike asked. "FUCK NO," Buddy cried in horror. Then, "You could suck me off though, if you'd like." Mike started laughing. "Not on your life, Buddy boy, not on your life." He took Buddy's right hand. "Here, you know what this is for?" "I suppose," Buddy sighed as he began to put it to work on his soaring hard boy-cock. "Whatever the hell it is you're ejaculating, I have no interest whatsoever in ingesting...even TASTING it." "It's mostly water you said," Buddy reminded him as he continued giving himself some semblence of relief. "That's right, I DID, didn't I," the doctor laughed. "Buddy, your body is struggling to cleanse itself. You've absorbed a great deal of that...T-40 shit, as you called it. Normaly your kidneys would be in charge of getting rid of it, and perhaps they are...we'll send your urine sample to the lab soon as they open, but it would appear your prostate is carrying most of the load, and all this fluid, is simply the means by which it's trying to rid your body of the chemical." "What IS this T-40 shit?" Buddy asked, repeating his earlier question. "Well, quite frankly, it's the key element in Testalon," Mike continued. "It's the substance which acts first in triggering early puberty." "How come none of the other guys...I don't mean Bobby...the other test guys didn't start shootin' the stuff?" Buddy questioned as he jacked his cock. "They're getting other components of Testalon, and without T-40..." "No T-40, no cum, no puberty, right?" Buddy leaped ahead. "Something like that," Mike smiled indulgently, impressed by the boy's seriousness and intelligence. "They'll start exhibiting various pubic traits...voice, hair, penis growth...just not as soon without T-40 leading the way. T-40 is the catylist." "You gonna have to hook all of'em up to milking machines when they start...you know...pubing?" Buddy asked, despite the inherent sexual pleasure, not wishing such a fate on his worst enemy (not that he had any), much less any of his friends. "God, I hope not," Mike laughed, attempting to hide from the boy his much more serious concerns. "Most of the other components of Testalon are relatively benign." "What's...benign...mean?" Buddy asked. "Harmless...well...not quite harmless...not likely to cause problems," Dr. Mike patiently defined the term. "What if they all got too much of their patch stuff like I did?" Buddy asked. Mike was silent. He eyed Buddy in dismay. It was a question he didn't know how to answer and, moreover, desperately hoped he never WOULD have to answer. "Hey, kid, try some of this stuff," Dr. d'Angelo returned, holding out an unmarked silvery tube about the size of a tube of toothpaste. "They say it makes a pretty good lubricant, too." "Rub a small amount of it on your cock...keep your cock well coated, it'll help soothe and promote healing," Mike told him, removing he cap for Buddy. "At the very least it'll keep your cock from getting sorer. "Stand back, I'm getting close," Buddy warned. "Tony get something for him," Mike ordered. "What?" "Anything, hell, grab the waste can there..." Mike laughed. "Unless YOU wanna clean up the floor this time." "I'M GONNA CUMMMMMMMM..." Buddy cried. "HohhahoooahhhHHHHOOOOO FUCCCCKK...OHIEHOAIHE GOD, I'M CUMMING...I'M CUMMING...OHHAHAH FUCK, SHOOTIN'...AHAHHAHEHHAHEHHRHHHHHH FUCK...FEELS GOOD...OHHH FUCK, IF ONLY MY COCK WASN'T SORE...AHGHAHHH...OHAHHEHAH MAN, OOEAHEOIRHO GOD, LIKE A FUCKIN' FIRE HOSE, OOAOEOHAOIHO STILL CUMMIN', STILL SHOOTIN', OOAHEOIH GOD, DOC, BETTER GO FIND ANOTHER TRASH CAN," Buddy joked as he launched spurt after spurt of watery white fluid into the plastic lined containter. "OWHAOEIHOEIHRO FUCK, IT'S LIKE THIS EVERY TIME. I JUST KEEP CUMMIN' AND CUMMIN' AND CUMMIN'...LIKE THERE'S NO END HOAOEOOAIIE...OGOEIHAOEIRHOIHO GOD, OGHAOEOIRHOAIEHROIHOHGHHGHHG FUCCCCKKKKKKKK...!!!" "Poor kid," Dr. d'Angelo sympathized. "You okay?" Mike asked as Buddy struggled to recover from his orgasmic blast of pleasure. "Yeah, that ain't the FIRST time," he tried to muster the strength to joke. "Or the last," Dr. d'Angelo added. "Listen, Buddy...I hate to tell you this but..." Dr. Mike began. "Give it to me straight, doc, I can take it, am I gonna die from too much jackin' off?" Buddy asked in mock seriousness. Mike smiled, then laughed. "No, I doubt it. What I was going to say is, we're gonna have to keep you here for the next few...days and..." "DAYS!" Buddy gasped. "Unless I miss my guess, it'll take that long for your body to rid itself of the T-40," Mike confided. "After that, will I able to shoot cum?" Buddy asked anxiously. Mike was silent for a long moment. "I don't know, Bubby," he told the boy softly. "I don't know. In fact, I might as well tell you this now, there's a possibility you may NEVER shoot any cum." "I'll never be able to make babies?" Buddy asked in dismay. "Dr. d'Angelo, would you excuse us for a moment," Mike asked, "Buddy and I have some serious..." "Certainly," Tony agreed, immediately leaving, closing the clinic door, realizing that he'd already heard more than he should have. "Buddy, T-40 is a powerful drug...taken alone, maybe more potent than we thought." Dr. Mike continued. "We know...let me rephrase that...I suspect...it has, at least temporarily, damaged your reproductive system in ways we can only guess at the moment." "Gees..." Buddy winced. "Fortunately, there seems to be no pain involved...in fact, quite the opposite," Mike smiled down at the naked little boy sitting on the examining table. "I can live with it...get's a little monotonous but..." Buddy told him bravely. "That's the right attitude," Mike congratulated him. "What I'm gonna do...we have downstairs what Dr. Duncan calls his...'fitness center'. It's really just a...well, I guess you could call it his sexual man-cave...pool, spa, two huge beds, workout equipment, bar, I think you'll be quite comfortable, actually." "You're gonna lock me up in this...dungeon...like I was contagious or something?" Buddy asked in dismay. "It's not that you're contagious but, we want medical personnel with you 24-7 the next few days in case...well, there's a whole host of thing that might happen," Mike continued, deciding not to burden the eleven-year-old boy-child with the gorey details. "At the very least, you're gonna need help with your cock." "I am?" Buddy blinked, looking down at his sprouting erection then back to Mike in dispair. "You're gonna need to sleep," Mike smiled. "Right?" "I guess," Buddy shrugged. "It's kind of hard to sleep when ya gotta orgasm bearing down on you every half-hour or so...give or take a half-hour or so," Mike reasoned. "You gonna have a nurse jack me off while I SLEEP?" Buddy laughed. "In a word, 'yes'," Mike smiled, although he won't be a nurse. "He's a research assistant, actually there'll be two guys with you...we'll get a boy from Ro...Mr. Parker...to be an assistant to the assistant. You have any preferences, a boy you know that you'd like to get jacked off by every hour ON the hour?" "Bobby?" Buddy suggested. "Not a Pooh Bear," Mike insisted firmly. "Kevin Cox?" "Oh, GOD, no," Mike nearly convulsed. "Justin Bieber's got a really cute houseboy...Dustin I think his name is," Buddy suggested after some thought. "You know him?" "Oh yeah," Dr. Mike laughed. "The winner of the Little Mr. Hemorrhoids posterboy contest." "What are hemorrhoids?" "Okay, I'll see what I can do," Mike smiled. "Justin and I are friends, maybe he'll loan his boy to us for a few days at least, but Buddy...." "What?" "You gotta promise not to fuck his ass?" Mike insisted. "Why?" "Well, two reasons, really," Mike explained. "One, we don't want you exchanging any bodily fluids of any kind with ANYONE. Second, Dustin has hemorrhoids. Last I knew he was recovering from them nicely, but..." "What the hell is hemorrhoids, you didn't answer my question?" Buddy reminded his doctor tersely. "They're tiny anal growths," Mike explained. "Lots of people get them, though not usually as young as Dustin. But...in any case, they can be quite painful and...not something you fuck around with." "That was a joke, right?" Buddy laughed. "What?" "Hemorrhoids...fuck around with..." Buddy found it all the more funny that Dr. Mike had made a joke that he, himself, didn't get. "Oh...right...fuck around with...right!" Mike didn't laugh, embarrassed by his own lack of a sense of humor. "The...uh...cafeteria should be open by now. What say we get you some sustenance then cart you off to Dr. Duncan's man cave before you need another orgasm." "Do they make ya eat all that healthy salad stuff for BREAKFAST?" Buddy asked, recalling his single luncheon experience two or three weeks earlier. "I think we can find something for you that's minimally UNhealthy," Mike laughed, helping Buddy down from the examining table, putting his arm around him, guiding him toward the cafeteria in the back of the building. "I'm feeling the urge for something unhealthy myself...maybe one of their great big gut-busting cinnamon rolls Dr. Duncan tried to have banned." "Dr. Duncan hates unhealthy stuff?" Buddy questioned. "Dr. Duncan hates EVERYTHING," Mike laughed, hoping no one was around to hear his uncensored opinion of his boss. "Very, very extraordinary," Buddy critiqued his new "digs" as he stepped from the private elevator and looked around the sub-basement level where Dr. Duncan had his "fitness" center. "Mmmm...I thought you'd like it," Dr. Mike smiled down at the little boy he was coming to know and love more every moment. "Almost better than those big unhealthy cinnamon rolls," Buddy joked. "I almost couldn't eat all of mine." "Yes, well, I noticed you managed to get on the outside of it anyway," Mike joked. "Come, I want you to meet your...sex slave..." "His what?" Buddy's sex slave objected. "Humor me...and him, he's only eleven," Mike winked at the slender, extremely attractive young research assistant who'd been assigned to Buddy. "Buddy, this is Weston. Weston, your young master, Buddy Bristol. Bow down and kiss his ring." "Like hell," Weston reacted. "It's okay, I don't HAVE a ring," Buddy smiled up at the man. "You really eleven? You look like nine or ten?" Weston observed as the two shook hands. "How old are you?" Buddy had heard the same thing virtually all his life and by now was getting a little bored by always the same reaction. "I'm twenty," Weston told him. "You LOOK thirty," Buddy joked with a straight face. "He's joking," Mike relieved the tension between the two. "Get used to it, you two are going to become VERY close the next few days. "You got a nice cock," Buddy boldly fondled the man's sexual endowment. "Not too big, not too small, only I'm a Pooh Bear and you're not allowed to fuck me." "What's he talking about," Weston asked Mike uncomprehendingly. "I take it you don't have Pooh Bear clearance," Mike sighed in dismay at someone's screw-up in assigning Weston Maris to Buddy. "That would be a safe guess, doctor," Weston observed with just a hint of irreverence. "Okay...hang in here for now. You two get acquainted. I'll see if I can't shake some branches upstairs, get you cleared," Mike told him. "You'll have a boring two-hour briefing to sit through if I do and a hasty exit if I don't." "Buddy, don't tell him any secrets, otherwise we'll have to KILL him," Mike joked. "He's joking," Buddy confided in a loud whisper. "Sex slave..." Weston shook his head humorlessly. "He jokes around a lot," Buddy added as Mike headed back toward the elevator. "Don't worry, they took away my whip, chains, and paddle. I'm harmless." "They said upstairs you're hypersexual?" Weston questioned. "They did?" It was the first time Buddy had ever heard the term. "What's that mean?" "That you're chronically orgasmic," Weston told him. "What's that mean?" Buddy repeated. "You have to cum a lot," Weston descended to Buddy's level. "I knew that," Buddy insisted. "I was just checkin' to see if YOU did." "I don't know if you're cute because you're a smart-ass or if you're a smart-ass because your cute," Weston told him. "You gay?" Buddy asked pointedly. "If you mean, am I sexually attracted to men, the answer is yes," Weston reacted. "If you mean do I take after naked little boys and try to suck their cocks, the answer is no." "You don't wanna suck MY cock, let me tell ya," Buddy quickly informed him. "Oh? And why might that be?" Weston questioned. "Can't tell ya. Big secret. I'd have to KILL ya if I did," Buddy joked. Weston rolled his eyes in dismay. "If I don't kill YOU first." "Ut-ohhhhh..." "What?" "I feel it coming on," Buddy gasped. "What? you gonna be okay?" "No," I'm probably gonna DIE," Buddy exaggerated. "I'm getting chronically orgasmic." "You little shit, you ain't gonna fuckin' DIE," Weston sighed in dispair. "Go over and lie down on the bed. You need help or can you handle this on your own?" "Ohhhh, I'm gonna need help," Buddy lied. "I'm gonna need lots and lots of help, I'm so chronically orgasmic I'm almost severely fatigued." He stretched out on the bed, not touching his rock-hard pulsating cock. "Jack me off, man, I need to cum BAD. And you better get something to put it in, I really shoot a LOT." "Yeah, right," Weston shook his head as he settled in next to Buddy on the bed and took his hard little cocklet in hand. "I'm not in the habit of doin' this, like I said, so...I'm gonna be a little awkward, a little rusty. It's been years since I jacked off a little fucker like you...since I WAS a little fucker like you, in fact." "Feels good," Buddy encouraged him, carefully hiding a guilty smile. "This is gonna be a long two weeks," Weston sighed as he bent to the task of giving Buddy an orgasm. "TWO WEEKS?" Buddy reacted as if he'd been handed a life sentence. "Doc said just a few days!" "Whatever," Weston sighed, realizing instantly Buddy hadn't been fully informed of the seriousness of his situation. "You jack good," Buddy told his 20-year-old "sex slave." "Thank you," Weston replied, starting to get the long-forgotten knack, establishing a moderate rythmn he thought he could maintain for a few minutes. "You jack off a lot yourself?" Buddy asked. "Nosey little fucker, aren't you?" Weston observed. "Just tryin' to pass the time," Buddy forced a smile. "You're doin' a great job, did I tell you that? Makin' it really feel GREAT." "You mentioned it, yes," Weston told him dryly. "How long this usually take?" "Two minutes, forty-two seconds," Buddy reported his most recent TTO. "You've been on an extractor all night, right?" Weston guessed. "TEN times," Buddy confirmed. "Ohhhhhhh fucccckkk, man, that feels goooooooddd." "Ohhhhhh my godddddddd..." Weston reacted. "Ten TIMES? Ten ORGASMS? In one NIGHT?" "Yep," Buddy smiled confidently, "...startin' to get a bit raw...use some of that stuff in the tube there...doctor said it'll make my cock feel better. "Duraline?" Weston guessed. "I think that's what he called it," Buddy recalled. Weston squeezed some of the clear gel into the palm of his hand then went back to work on Buddy's cock. "How's this? Better?" Weston asked. "Ahhhhhhh...yeah....yeah...ohhhh, fuck yeah, yeah...ohhhh yeah...ohhh fuck, yeah, yeah, yeah, jack me, Wes, jack me, jack me, jack me off, man, ohhhh fuck, I'm feelin' it, I'm fuckin' FEELING it, man, ohhh god, you're gonna do it to me, I can feel it, I'm gonna cum, man, jack it, jack it, jack me harder, harder, ohhhh yeah, man, make me cum, make me cum, make me...meee....CUMMMMM....AOIIAIOEIH FUCKIN' HELL, OHHHHHAHH GOD, THE FEELING, THE FEELING, AHGHEHAH FUCK, SHOOTIN', SHOOTIN', SHOOTIN' MY CUM, MY CUM, AHGHHAHEHRH GOD, THE FEELING, FEELS LIKE...LIKE...AHAHAEIROIHG GOD, KEEP DOIN' IT TO ME, KEEP JACKIN' MY COCK, KEEP MAKIN' ME SHOOT, OAOGHHEAOEI YEAH, YEAH, HARDER, HARDER, OOAHEHOAEH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, GHOAIEOIHRO...AOOOGHAEHOOEHHAHHEH!!" "MY GOD, YOU WEREN'T FUCKIN' KIDDING...OHHH FUCK, I NEVER SEEN ANYONE SHOOT LIKE YOU ARE...OHHHHHH FUCK, KID, YOU CAN STOP ANYTIME NOW. FUCK...YOU SURE YOU'RE ONLY ELEVEN? FUCK, I'M TWENTY AND IN MY FUCKIN' SEXUAL PRIME AND I DON'T SHOOT HALF THIS MUCH...FUCCCK...OHHHHH FUCK, YOU'RE SOAKIN' THE FUCKIN' BED!" Weston cried in dismay as he released Buddy's cock and watched in fascination tinged with horror as Buddy's cock continued to pulsate and ejaculate spurt after watery spurt for several more seconds. "AHHAEHHAOEOAEIHHHHH FUCKKKK, I JUST KEEP CUMMIN' AND CUMMIN' AND...AGHOEAOIEHROIHOIH CUMMMMMIN' MAN, LIKE FOREVER!" Buddy cried out as his aching, naked sexual pleasure finally peaked and began slowly receding. "My god, kid, no wonder they want someone on you 24-7," Weston reacted in disgust at the mess he and Buddy had made. "I warned ya to get something to catch it in," Buddy reminded his "sex slave." "I told you I'd shoot a LOT." "Alright, can you get up? Move off the bed. Let me get some towels. You gonna be alright now?" Weston worried. "Of course," Buddy laughed. "Hell, it was only an ORGASM. Ain't you ever seen an orgasm before?"