Experimentation
A doctor creates a new man and decides to “test” it out for research purposes. It doesn’t exactly go to plan.
2.7k words erotic sci fi/horror fiction. Trans man (he/him) with a pussy/t-dick and his half-human/half-mechanical creation (it/its) with a cock.
Use of words like hole, dick, etc for trans man’s anatomy throughout. Blowjob, vaginal penetration, rough manhandling, coming inside without protection (no in-world consequences), overstimulation and piss at the end.
Approximately nine months of stealing scrap metal from derelict factories, pilfering medical equipment and machinery from his work at the hospital, and not least of all the morgue robbing, have all led a tired and delirious doctor to this moment. Bits and pieces — quite literally bits and pieces — coming together and now he awaits his reward in the form of an incoming storm.
Thunder rumbles in the sky above and he prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that he aligned his lightning rod correctly.
Crack!
Lightning strikes at that moment, perfectly into the lightning rod. Electricity crackles down and onto the platform where the doctor’s creation lays. He watches, salivating, at the thought of any second now an arm raising. He’ll even take a finger twitching. But nothing. The electricity fizzles out and still, his being lays motionless on the slab.
The doctor steps up to the table and prods a portion of skin on its arm. Careful not to touch the wires or metal plates lest they still be live from the lightning. The skin is warm. Not just warm, it’s hot. He pulls back the tarp covering the rest of the body to reveal the cogs and pistons in the thing’s torso working.
“That’s something at least… must note a delayed reaction in waking,” he mutters to himself as he examines the rest of the body. He works feet upwards, poking the legs to feel a response. A surprised cough catches in his throat when he gets to the groin and notices the cock, that he’d been generous enough to ensure was on the bigger side, twitch.
His eyes glaze over the rest, his mind lingering on the physiological reaction he had just noted, until he makes it to the face. He had not looked before, but can now see he has been intently observed the whole time with two cloudy grey eyes watching him.
“Y- You’re awake. You’re alive,” the doctor stutters as he watches the being push itself off of the table, swinging its thick legs around so it’s now sitting before him. He half expects the being to speak and then recalls the issues he had had with the voice box mechanism so the only sounds currently coming from it are the whirrs and clicks of machinery. Still, he wonders what his creation is thinking — if anything at all. Its face refusing to give away any inclination of fear, confusion, or aggression. The doctor was more than grateful for the latter given the sheer strength he had built his creation to possess.
“Can you stand?” he asks, or rather demands. This creation was built for service after all, he needs to ensure it does just that.
The being obeys. Standing tall, looming over the doctor so much so it has to look down to meet his eyes. The doctor had checked the corpses’ files before helping himself to their remains, making sure they were fit and healthy and larger than the average person. His creation stood well over six feet tall, dwarfing his own height of a mere five and a half feet. He doesn’t even meet his creation’s shoulders. He will never admit aloud that he enjoys the height difference perhaps more than he should. Having a thing he built from the ground up be bigger and taller than him makes him feel powerful by association. He now has the freedom of experimenting all he likes with the comfort of a bodyguard whose sole purpose is to defend him.
The being in question, still standing before him, continues to stare though its workings inside its chest cavity seems to be whirring and turning faster than before. Akin to a rapid heartbeat. It takes the doctor a few moments to diagnose the cause.
His creation is aroused.
It was not built to be capable of such a thing. It had never crossed the doctor’s mind as a necessary feature for it to have. Though the doctor still added an appendage in case he desired to add that ability later, but certainly not right away.
He almost feels wrong for staring, then remembers that he built this creature and he can stare all he wants. Maybe even touch it too… his hand already reaching out to the stiffening cock in front of him.
“I suppose it is only right to test out all of your abilities.” He justifies himself as though anyone else were present to judge.
His fingers meet the flesh of the cock and he flinches at the warmth of it. He feels the soft mechanical hum of the machinery working inside the abdomen that must be making his creation hard. He wonders what could have malfunctioned to add this without his intention, but his focus soon shifts to the task quite literally at hand. The being thrusts slightly in the doctor’s hand, its hip bucking at the sudden stimulation. The first feeling it has ever felt being that of pleasure is a humorous thought to the doctor.
The slow awkwardness is brief as the doctor gains his bearings. His work has taken him away from interests of the flesh for long enough to make him rusty as though this was his first time all over again, but muscle memory is a powerful thing. He begins jerking the cock in front of him with much more enthusiasm now, even noting that the creations’ internal system seems to be using motor oil as a kind of pre-cum, with it leaking slightly from the tip and staining his hand. Best not use his mouth on this being until that’s fixed, he notes.
As if jinxing himself the doctor feels two strong hands on his shoulders push him down. The being, so big, that on his knees his eyes are in line with its thighs. He has no time to think whether or not to protest before the oil slicked cock is pushed past his lips and hits the back of his throat. The taste and smell of the oil is enough alone to almost make him gag — the oil creating a film over his tongue and tasting not at all what he’s been used to in the past with a thick muddy aftertaste burning his throat and making him teary eyed.
He hears his creation grunt with whatever ability to make noise it can. It sounds tinny and like air wheezing out of a bag, but he is not so dumbfounded as to not realise that it is a sound of pleasure. Fascinating, he thinks. He didn’t include that in his manufacturing. He would note it down were it not for being preoccupied.
The doctor, drool and motor oil lubricating his mouth as it’s being fucked by this man-made beast, shoves his own hand into his trousers to find himself wetter than he has been in a painfully long time. He had denied himself any distractions during his work and now he realises just how much he longs for touch as he slips two fingers inside himself with ease.
The doctor hears mechanical grunts above him as his creation thrusts into his mouth, finding its rhythm quicker than expected for something that didn’t exist a mere hour ago. He finds his own rhythm too as he begins working the cock in his mouth with his tongue while he fingers himself.
Rougher, he pleads to himself almost afraid to demand it aloud as it becomes clearer and clearer to him that he is not the one in control anymore. The being has taken a fistful of his hair in its giant hand and is fucking his face. He is in no position to be making orders to anyone anymore.
As if capable of reading his mind, the doctor, sweaty and out of breath, feels himself being picked up and manhandled onto the examination table the creation had not long woken from. His head bangs against the metal and dazes him slightly, but he sees a figure before him position itself between his legs with two hands having torn his clothes enough for access and is now holding his thighs up, spreading them apart. His breath hitches in his throat, the taste and smell of the motor oil reacquainting itself with him and he gags a little. The irony of him only gagging when his mouth is empty is not lost to him.
“Wai-” He finds himself swiftly interrupted when the being pushes itself into his hole, only stopping when finally at the hilt.
The doctor recalls jokes being made by his peers about being so deep in their lovers they see the stomach bulge and he had always brushed it off as being physiologically impossible or at the very least being a gross exaggeration peddled to fuel fragile male egos. And yet here he was, on his back with his legs up in the air watching the cock inside him push against his belly, creating a small bump with each full thrust. Despite being a scientific man, he thanks all the gods out there that testosterone had never affected his ability to self lubricate lest he be torn in half by this beast of his. He can feel what he can only guess is a mixture of his own wetness with motor oil leaking out of him, pooling on the table at his buttocks and dripping off the edge. It makes him wonder what will happen when his creation ‘finishes’.
As good as the deep thrusts feel he can feel himself growing bored of this position, so trying his luck he pushes himself up on his elbows to give himself the strength to pull away. Strong hands hold him in place, but the two lock eyes enough for one to understand that the other does not want to stop, merely adjust. The being loosens its grip and instead opts for grabbing the doctor’s hips, turning him over with ease so he is bent over the table, feet planted firmly on the floor this time. One hand pins the doctor’s back down making the doctor’s face be shoved against the cool metal of the table with little room for moving. Perfectly fine with him, at least he’s not so exposed with this position. Another hand spreads the one of the doctor’s cheeks aside, exposing his holes, before again pushing back into him. This time with much more ease now that he’s expecting it. Needing it, even.
Once positioned deeply inside him, the doctor’s creation fucks him harder than before and uses both its hand to pin the doctor down before him. The doctor, unable to move much at all, uses what little freedom he does have with his hand to jerk himself off against the table. He winces at the feeling of bruises definitely beginning to form on the front of his thighs from the sheer force of this being’s new sense of lust pushing him against the table. No longer holding back any moans, his own gasps of pleasure alongside the wet sounds of sweat covered skin hitting skin fill the laboratory, complimenting the smells of sweat, slick, and motor oil. More than enough to make his benefactors with their fragility and their delicate sensibilities retch were they to find out exactly what he had really been researching all this time with their generous funding.
The doctor, unable to tell if his creator is close to climax or if it even can, feels the telltale signs that he is almost there himself. Desperate to chase the feeling, he begins jerking off his dick even harder than before, fingers slipping from the slick coating his hood and folds. He works his cock in time with the thrusts so with enough concentration he can almost mimic the sensation he is receiving and feel as though he’s also fucking something — the euphoria it elicits alone is almost enough to make him come.
Hands move from pinning him down to grabbing him at the hips, pushing and pulling him against the cock filling his hole. He is near enough being lifted off of the floor, even standing on tip toes he can feel his shoes scraping the floor trying to find solid purchase to stand on to no avail. He is simply being used and there is nothing he can do about it. Not that he wants to. Quicker thrusts turn into messier thrusts, the rhythm becoming awkward and desperate. He thinks his creation is nearing its limit. A suspicion that spurs him on to make it happen. Curious what it will be like, he doesn’t even consider the implications of being filled with a thick black oil. Though he notes that it has already been in his mouth so he is more or less sure he will survive. Probably.
He begins moaning louder to see if it encourages his creation to finish. And using what little grip he has on the table and the floor, he pushes himself back against its cock as deep as it will possibly go. He swears he hears a proper and full moan coming from behind him, but is unsure whether it is simply wishful thinking. His creation can clearly feel arousal, there is surely no reason why it shouldn’t know how to express it. It has certainly been doing a good enough job at expressing it thus far.
Then with little more warning than a half-mechanical moan, the being’s voice box straining at its use, the doctor can feel his hole being filled with a surprisingly warm, almost hot, fluid. Stuck in limbo being pleasure and that almost-pain kind of feeling, he jerks himself a few more times while fucking himself against the huge cock and he comes mere seconds after his creation. His own fluid mixes with the oil filling him. He ceases touching himself much more, he has a tendency of becoming too sensitive immediately after coming so he moves his hand away to steady himself against the table, expecting his creation to pull out. But it doesn’t. It keeps fucking its own fluid deeper into the doctor and then does the most surprising thing. It reaches underneath the doctor from the front and, albeit clumsily, begins touching his dick. Lightning jolts through the doctor’s abdomen as overstimulation takes over him.
“Ah-! Ple-” He can barely get his words out before what he feared would happen does happen. He releases himself, unsure if it is his ejaculate or piss or both that streams down his legs which unsurprisingly give way underneath him. The creation catches him in time and keeps him in place, still fucking him though slower now. Taking a gentle turn that would surprise the doctor were it not for his mind turning to mush.
Finally it pulls out of him, leaving the doctor’s hole slightly gaping with oil and slick leaking down his already stained legs. The doctor says nothing, instead only being capable of panting and trying feebly to catch his breath now his “research” had concluded. He fears he may pass out; he’s so exhausted and very almost literally drained. He peers beneath him and sees the puddle he now stands in and groans. Bodily fluids he can handle but that doesn’t mean he enjoys the idea of cleaning up his own piss.
He isn’t given long to think about cleaning up when his creature picks him up straight off his feet.
“What are you doing? Put me down!” he protests, concerned the creature wants to go again even though it’s no longer hard. He wonders if it can get hard on demand. He’s tempted to test that out at a later date.
The creature only hums a response, clearly still incapable of words just yet.
It takes a moment but the doctor soon realises it’s finding its way to his temporary sleeping quarters he had set up in his lab for the late nights of studying that prevent him from taking the journey home at reasonable times.
He is placed gentler than he thought he would be in his bed, while the creature turns and returns to its table in silence.
Interesting, the doctor thinks, refusing to admit to himself that he wishes he had told — or asked — this newly created man to sleep next to him. If it even could sleep. There is clearly much he doesn’t yet know about his own creation. He is eager to discover more.
