Chapter 13
Baz woke to a silent and dim room, remembering in a jolting instant why he lay on his back. Why his crotch felt abnormal.
He was naked.
Almost afraid of what he might find, he groped downward to his groin area, slid his hand further, further, until it encountered not just a strange mass of synthflesh, which was what his last one had felt like, but a throbbing mass of high-quality sxsynthflesh. Cybermonk quality.
Baz Rutland had a proper cock, again, and he smiled through the muffling, deadening underground hum in his mind. Someone had stuffed his head with wet paper and dust. Even his muscles felt odd, distorted. As if they’d given him a whole new body.
Neurosensory pathways have been adapted.
That message came from somewhere inside.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table he lay on.
Words scrolled down his left retina and an internal voice narrated as he read the words.
We advise you to get acquainted with your new cock, Baz.
Nice and personal.
“I will.”
You requested a large one and we have obeyed. It is large and will grow substantially larger with stimulation and/or applied thought.
“Applied thought?”
Yes. Thinking of getting an erection can cause your cock to obey far more readily than most. You need never contemplate failure.
He never had before. Not until it was ripped off. But...good.
Even flaccid as it was, his CM cock was more than a handful. He might need a little extra stretch in his pants.
It was a fairly normal shape but black in color. Veins ran and twisted down the shaft. The head seemed the right shape if bigger. His balls liked it when he pushed the head with a finger, sliding it from one thigh until it flopped to the other. “Black?”
The color is changeable and here are many other accessory transformations you may find useful. We recommend experimenting to find your best attribute.
Attribute, he snorted at that one. “Pink?” It flashed into the worst fluorescent pink and Baz grimaced. “Tame it down, boy.”
The color faded to pure white with a few metal rivet-like pieces showing. He preferred to see it as what it was – cyborg cock. Flesh pink was boring. He’d use black and steel on alternate days.
Would a woman freak if it looked pure steel?
“Hmmm.” He stroked it and was shocked at the thrill thundering into him from the subtle touch. A squeeze made him gasp. His voice squeaked. “I think I just saw flying naked women.”
And flying naked oliphants.
There may be some unusual sensory side effects at first until your neurological system gets used to the new input.
Do you wish to see a few of the other attributes?
“Sure.” He yawned, his jaw popping.
We will run through some. The rest are discoverable and stored in your mind files, under cocky instruction manual.
Erection.
His cock swelled and swelled and within seconds became large enough to be mistaken for a small python. Baz’s eyebrows rose. He’d always wanted a snake cock. His hand barely encompassed the girth. Thumb-tip met fingertip if he strained and squashed his cock.
An orgasm rippled through him though no come spurted. Baz jerked, coughed. What the?
“Holy –”
Spikes.
Short, blunt metal spikes popped out all along the shaft. He swore at that. Not painful for him, but...for the girl?
Vibration.
The hum and tremors set him off again. This time come squirted in an arc, splashing on the wall a few meters away.
“Fuck!”
You will find your sensitivity scaling back after a day or two.
“Holy mothers of Hexenshen!” Hexenshen was a small religion he’d encountered many planets ago. Not his religion, but he liked to swear equal opportunity.
Multiple orgasms for a man? It was an interesting concept, though he’d prefer some lasting power.
You can also turn down sensitivity, or turn it up, on command. There is a taste selective. Power lube. And various special modes, such as party mode, unicorn horn simulator, tentacles, and perhaps best of all, the demon cock mode.
“Demon mode?”
Yes, it makes it impossible for the female to orgasm but turns her on exceptionally well. I believe some call this a form of torture.
Playing with his cock might keep him too busy to go to work.
They’d discover him a century from now – a mummified man with his hand still wrapped around his cock. To be honest though...he frowned at his new cock...he’d have preferred something simpler, just big and plain, not this carnival of sex. He should turn all the fuckin’ extras off.
There is also a trademark symbol on the underside above your testicles. A CM. If you ever have a severe emergency, press there and talk. A representative will be with you as fast as possible.
Talk to his cock, okay, that was totally normal. For once.
“A severe emergency? What if I’m on another planet?”
Within the bounds of reasonableness, of course. There are also certain stipulations associated with your new sexual appendage. Violate these and ownership and warranty will be revoked.
Baz frowned. “No fucking way.” They’d remove this cock from him only if he were dead.
All in the manual.
He waited for more of an explanation but the voice had died away. When it said nothing further, he slid off the table and went in search of his clothes.
He’d wring the rest of the details from the cybermonks.
* * * * *
After he’d insisted over and over, the roach bot had led Baz to the cybermonks. He stood at the side of a vast stage, overlooking a crowd of thousands of supplicants and followers of the monks. Or he assumed that’s what they were from the cheering whenever the cybermonks announced anything.
The three of them were out in the middle of the stage, dwarfed by their surroundings but apparently at ease from the drama of their gestures, the way they spat out their adages and punctuated the phrases by punching the air.
So far they’d spouted many general helpful but vague directions, like be good and good will come to you. Water your zalias daily and the crop of small crab things they sprout come next summertime will be your blessing.
Most theologies said the same stuff. To his mind, what mattered was how you treated people. Be selfish and only love those who agree with you would’ve fitted most of the ’ligions he’d come across.
He eyed the above. Morning, judging by the bright blue-pink sky. His internal clock agreed. So that was running properly. From the shadows, the sun shone from somewhere behind the curved roof. The crowd roared again, waved small whirligigs. The monks droned on. Looked as if it’d be best to wait for them to be alone before he tried discussing the handful of multi-colored festivities he now had in his pants.
Really, what was it about big that translated as I want a spiked dick that glows in the dark?
Without further requests to deviate from the path, the bot led him through a maze of pathways to a gap in a sandstone wall, past a pool, and hence to where...
To where Ember and Hoss slept peacefully on a bed, curled up together. His face was in her hair. His arm over her body.
Spooning with an orc.
The red crackly haze of anger shot into him. Though he controlled it and walked back the way he came in, he grazed the wall next to the entry with his nails as he left. The pain and the scratching sound, the leftover rock gathering under his nails, it let him focus on leaving. He had an urge to both go over and smash in the orc’s head and to drag her off the bed and fuck her.
The smashing the orc idea was normal for him when he got like this.
The fucking her inclination? That was abnormal.
The surgery must really have screwed with him.
He needed to go have a lie down.
“Take me to my rooms, you dumb bot,” he snapped.
The thing trundled away, obediently, its gangly antennae and limbs insect-like and irritating.
He resisted stomping on it, and was proud of his restraint.
Wasn’t until his own idyllic set of private rooms, with dangly ferns and greenery and waterfalls, was before him that he turned, drew back his leg, and booted the small critter-bot back over the wall. As it crashed through the branches of the outside trees, it made a satisfying tinkle.
Good. At last something had turned out perfect.
Then he lay on his bed and tried to sleep, only to find himself staring at his dick and wondering when it’d transform into a singing and dancing chainsaw. Idly, he tried searching for the warranty. If it was in the files, it was buried under mountains of words. What could possibly void the warranty?
He noticed the grit under the nails of his left hand and began to pick it out. That wall...he’d scraped bits off it with the other hand, hadn’t he? Yet his right was clean.
Okay, odd. Mind games again. Baz frowned and went back to the important stuff.
He did find a new mode that made him shudder – split mode. He wasn’t touching that one, not even with a long stick with a dildo on the end. What the fuck did the monks think humans were into if they’d added that?
Funny how every time he thought of sex, Ember came up in his mind, naked. Not allowing females on his crew was probably a mistake. He lowered his eyelids as he felt his cock begin to erect. Testing, testing, one, two, three.