Monday, September 10, 2018

10.9.2018


I have often said it is difficult for me to make a post on my blog if I feel there is nothing new to tell about my non-existent sexual life. However, now there is, so there is time for an update.

Like I have hinted at in my previous updates, I was recently in charge of a pretty big project that took all my time for several months in advance, and took place this summer. The stress caused by the project was a considerable one, and it ended up having an effect to my cumming, as well.


One could say I slipped bit by bit into having almost a normal cumming schedule. Being horny and frustrated is fun, but with the project like that to take care of I found it easier to cum whenever being chaste became too hard to handle. 


An orgasm once in two weeks, or once a week made it possible for me to concentrate on other things than sex. For a normal male the cumming schedule wouldn't have been a reckless one, but for me it was. I did my best to keep the number to an absolute minimum, though. 


Finally, at the end July I realized enough is enough, and decided to stop cumming until further notice. I was sick and tired of cumming, and wanted my orgasms to mean something again. 


However, there was another thing affecting me at that point. As I said, the project took all my energy for several months, and after it was completed I suffered a minor burnout I'm still struggling to get over. For several weeks it was incredibly hard for me to get anything done, especially things having to do with my vanilla life.


Inefficiency in my vanilla life meant I became extremely active as the kinky me in social media. It was so nice, and so much fun to interact with fellow sissies and other people to whom I was merely Simone, and with whom I could forget my other life, filled with responsibilities.


This in turn resulted into lot of masturbating. After all, I had stopped cumming, but not wanking off, or edging. There was times I could use whole days, 20 hours a day or more, by pulling my limp little clit. This doesn't sound healthy, and I admit it wasn't. But it was fun.


I am unsure whether my impotence had to do with it, but on occasions I felt I was able to reach the most enjoyable edging state only after I had pulled my clit for 5 to 10 hours. Also my clit reached a whole new state of limpness at that point, making masturbating more and more enjoyable, which in turn made it almost impossible to stop it.


Naturally I had to be very careful and keep myself as far away from the actual edge as possible, to prevent accidents I knew edging a limp dick for hours might cause. At the same time I had to keep myself sufficiently horny for the edging be frustrating enough, and for me to be beyond the limit of any rational thinking.   


The fact that I don't work and live alone meant I could dedicate all my waking hours to edging. I usually have my Tumblr constantly open when I'm at home, which provides me a steady feed of erotic images to look at or to edge to occasionally. Wearing any clothes around the house started to feel unnecessary.   


At that point I had also developed quite a taste for wanking in the nude, which isn't always the case with me. Now, however, I felt that edging while being nude or only in my thigh high striped socks, which make me feel girly and sexy, somehow made it easier to give myself fully to what I was doing.


There was even occasions during which I put my old invention of wanking mirrors into use. As I was masturbating sixth hour in a row, and watching myself from two big square mirrors on both sides of my computer screen, my form brightly lit by the desk lamp, I had trouble understanding why I had ever stopped using them.


It took me a while to realize I had developed a masturbation addiction. But being able to cut it was another thing entirely. The more I tried to take control of my vanilla life, and start taking care of my responsibilities again, the more I realized how much more fun it was to play with myself.


I tried to maintain my social life, which I had neglected somewhat, since it felt harder and harder to leave home. When I did, everything and everybody around me started to annoy me, and many times I found myself thinking how much more fun it would be at home wanking. 


On one such occasion I came home late at night, got immediately rid of all my clothes, started edging and kept doing so up until dawn. Because I had just had some normal social life, I thought to myself. I had spent several hours with my friends, and was entitled now to have some fun, right?     


A week ago I finally I realized I have to put extreme methods into use. I own a couple of chastity cages, but I have never used them more than a few hours at a time. With me being single and in charge of my own chastity they have never served the same function they may have with a sub who is locked up and owned.


Now, however, I realized locking myself up was the only possible choice. By this point I already had a huge amount of piled tasks to take care of, and if I didn't do them, I would be in big trouble. This in turn seemed impossible for me as long as I had access to my clit.


I had the cage on for 48 hours the first time around, and during the first 24 of them I managed to get more things done I had during the previous six weeks put together. It seemed my nightmare was over, or at least I had found a way out of it.


I even started to think how amazing it would be ti have it on a whole week, and bit by bit develop a same kind of fetish to it than to not cumming. Having a one around my genitals would soon feel normal to me and I would feel naked without one. The idea of becoming a "real" chastity slave excited and turned me on.  


Having the cage on for such a long time meant also that I had to have it on outside the house. I had never done that, because I had felt having it on while meeting my friends meant somehow I would be subjecting them to my fetish, that it would even be seen as a sexual abuse of some kind.


What resulted was much less sexual than I had anticipated. It seems that erotic fiction has highly exaggerated the effect something like that may have. Sure, I did feel quite a freak realizing what I was doing, but more than erotic the experience was merely uncomfortable, and occasionally painful.  


After I came home I checked how my testicles were doing and got a bit of a scare. The skin on them was quite pale and the capillaries looked much darker than I remembered. After all, my cage is a cheap Chinese knock-off with no possibility to adjust the ring. 


So I decided to remove the cage and put it on again in the morning. It was kind of bummer, I admit, because I was already looking forward to going into bed with it. However, this was a good trial run, I thought, and I would put it on again in the morning.


I woke up extremely horny the next morning, my little clit hard as rock. I decided I had earned a bit of playing with myself. I would put the cage on later, and perhaps have it on a day longer this time, I thought. Before even putting anything on or eating I turned my computer on and started to work on the erotic story I have been writing.


Seven hours later I was still sitting in front of the computer, naked, my limp clit in my hand, clothespins on my nipples and quite unable to stop. It seemed my nemesis the edging monster had returned, and was now filled with rage for being made captive, and wanted now either to have a revenge, or remind me what kind of power it had on me.


Fortunately I finally got a female on-line friend to order me to stop and put the cage back on. I was so grateful she did, because I fear I would have been unable to do it otherwise. 


This time stuffing the little thing in took more doing than usual, since all the pulling and edging had created, not an actual erection but a light swelling. As I turned the key and locked the thing, there was a nice sensation of extreme tightness that I enjoyed. The beast was locked, once again.


During the next few days I made interesting discoveries. One such was after another equally active day away from home, involving bicycling, bending, stretching and sitting in challenging positions long periods of time. A little after I'd had the cage on for 24 hours I went to a public toilet to check how my testicles are doing.


Again I noticed the capillaries looked much darker than usually. It seemed if I'm around the house my testicles can take several days in the cage. However, if the day involves a lot of strain to them they start to look unhealthy.


What's unfortunate is the fact that at that point I had already developed quite a fascination with being locked up, more so I would have ever believed possible. Having the cage on makes me feel incredibly emasculated, restrained and safe, all feelings I love.


As you all know, I have a very small penis, which means I have had to get myself even smaller cage for it. The cage has no room for growth whatsoever, and pressing the limp member into a space that's only the third of its stretched length is a wonderful one. Almost as wonderful as closing the lock.


I also like how my genitals feel while being locked up. Instead of a loose, big skin sack and my small member wobbling about, the cage makes them a tight ball, a little package that is fun hold in one's hand occasionally.


Even going to bed while having the cage on feels incredibly sexy. Having nothing but cage on seems somehow to turn me on, and on several nights I have felt my little clit pulsating lightly, almost as if it realized it's caged, and wanted to get free.


The best part, however, are the nights, or rather the mornings. As you all know, my penis hasn't ever gotten hard in sexual situations, and the only time it does so nowadays is during my sleep. However, with the tight cage on it is unable to do so.


The past week I have learned to love waking up in the early hours of the morning by the feeling of fullness, as my excuse for a penis tries desperately to get hard. I love my morning erections, make no mistake about that, but even more than that I love the uncomfortable feeling of not being able to get hard creates. 


You should see my expression on those moments. "Try all you want", I usually sigh in my sleep, with a wide smile on my face. "You're not getting hard. Poor thing..." 


I didn't want to lose all those little things I had learned to love.


I thought about my dilemma long at hard after I had gotten home and unlocked myself, and finally came up with a solution. I knew I had two similarly active days ahead, so it would make no sense to try wearing the cage during them.


However, what if I wore the cage during the night, and didn't take it off before having to go out the next day, and then put it back immediately after returning home? Could this even become my new daily routine? I could take the cage off whenever I go outside, to save my testicles from excessive strain, but keep myself locked at all times when I'm at home?


This has, in fact, been my routine the past few days. The only exception has been the time I have been writing this blog post. I somehow feel that writing my blog posts without masturbating at the same time just wouldn't be right. 


After all, I do want my blog posts to expose and reveal my sexual me as bare as possible, and just the way it is with my erotic fiction, I feel that only pulling my limp clit gives them the right feel. Openness I hope you, the readers of my blog like.


And speaking of erotic fiction, my edging spree did have one positive result. Because of it I ended writing an erotic short story I mentioned earlier. It is called "The Bus Encounter", and I think it's my hottest one yet.


I got inspiration to it during a real life bus journey in August. Some of the things that happen in the story did take place in real life, but I will let you figure out which. I have made no attempts hiding who the protagonist in the story is. It's me, pure and simple.


One of the themes included in the story is impotence. I thought long and hard whether I should include it or not, and even wrote a version without it, for the story to be more identifiable for public audience.


However, I finally decided to make the protagonist impotent. Mainly, because there is very little such erotica around, and also because it was easier for me to write him such, being impotent myself. 


Other themes included in the story are foot worship, public masturbation, verbal humiliation and bladder play. I hope you enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it.

Saturday, August 18, 2018

18.8.2018

I think it is time for an update. In my previous post I told you about an interesting new development in my cumming schedule. The idea was that I was would cum once a day, with no exceptions. No matter whether I wanted it myself, or had time for it, I was to orgasm daily for eight whole weeks. 

Considering there was once a time I was used to cum daily, at first it seemed there was nothing out of the ordinary in the new cumming regime. Despite the fact that lately the most frequent cumming pace for me had been an orgasm once in four or five days. 

For the first few days it felt great. As I was pulling my limp penis daily I enjoyed the feeling of being used it created. "I have to do this, it's not up to me", I thought. After all, I had never been under obligation to cum, at least not in this degree.

Surprisingly quickly, however, the arrangement lost it appeal and stopped being fun. One day being sad or too busy and I ended up having to do it twice the next day. Pretty soon cumming became a labour, a distasteful responsibility.

I do want to assure I did take the "prescription" my friend gave me very seriously and did my best to follow it. I continued it as long as I could, but by the end of the second week of my mandatory cumming regime I realized it just wasn't for me.

The arrangement might have worked under different circumstances. That is to say, if I'd had a girlfriend who would had set it, or even a chat acquaintance who I could be in contact daily. Someone who could have checked in on me to inquire whether I had already taken care of the day's task, and if I wasn't, to make sure it got done.

It seems chastity, or cum denial. is now either a permanent part of my sexuality, or an addiction I cannot quit. As I cummed on 31st of last month, knowing it would be the last for a while, I felt better immediately, more peaceful and calm I had been in ages.

A few days later the feeling of horniness and the familiar ache within my testicles returned. It may be what some people call "blue balls", something one feels only prolonged need to cum creates. For me it was an old friend or a companion that has joined me once again on my journey, a friend I had missed. 

It has bow been a couple of weeks since my last cum, and especially during the past couple of mornings I have woken up extremely horny, and had nice amounts of erotic dreams as well. On some mornings I have even ended up humping the bedsheets extremely frustrated, which is always a good sign. 

I believe this is at least partly thanks to exposing myself to quite a lot of porn daily. I also have the habit of keeping my porn Tumblr continuously open as I'm on my computer, to provide me a steady stream of erotic images to view, or to edge to.

No matter the reason behind it, my newfound horniness pleases me greatly. After all, the last thing I would want for my chastity to be easy. The whole point in denying oneself orgasms, in my opinion at least, is to make one (or at least ones body) desperate to cum and to enjoy the desperation not letting it cum creates.

The best part in my new ban is naturally the fact I have no idea how long it will last. There is no plan, no set release date. That feeling of uncertainty, a feeling of adventure, fills me with such anticipation and joy.

Even though I have no definite plans I do have a good feeling about this ban, a feeling it could be a longer one. After all, I feel I have cummed way too much this year already, so much one could say I am sick and tired of it.

Simply the idea of getting to do a nice, long denial period reaching double digits and last a few months at least, is extremely exciting. I do understand it's a slippery slope, though, and longer the ban continues, the less I desire to end it.

Many people may ask themselves isn't this lonely? Shouldn't I try to find someone in charge of my orgasms rather than denying myself? Well, of course this is lonely, utterly lonely. And yes, of course I shouldn't be in control of my orgasms. But in a way I feel denying myself is the next best thing for me, at the moment.

Monday, July 23, 2018

23.7.2018


It seems my cumming regime just got a new turn. It is an unexpected and not entirely unpleasant one, but at at the same time something that will be quite a challenge to me.

As most of you know I have kept a diary of my orgasms or lack of them, dating all the way to 2012. You all also know I'm heavily into chastity and have had incredibly long chastity periods in the past.


I have been involved the past few months in a project that's taken a lot of my time and energy. Because of it I have had to "give in" to the needs of my body, and to start cumming once in 5 to 6 days, to get my mind off sex and to be able to concentrate.


The project is now over, and a couple of days I asked a Domme I know what I should do now. Should I start denying myself properly again, or give in to my body whenever it so wishes?


The problem is that since I'm single there isn't anyone controlling my orgasms. I have therefore felt extremely bad for having the orgasms I've had, since I feel I shouldn't be the one who decides whether I cum or not. After being in cum bans of varying length since 2013, the act of cumming without permission just feels... wrong.     


My friend thought the question over and a minute said that since I have a habit of brooding and periods of melancholy she prescribed an orgasm a day for me...


...for the next eight weeks.


"We will see how you feel after that", she added.


I am well aware she could have given me an equally long chastity period as well, which I would have accepted gladly. But that's the beauty of giving over the control of your sexual functions to someone else.


The picture below is a chart of all my orgasms I've had this year. The red dots indicate ban days, the green ones cum days, the black dots ruined orgasms and the magenta ones the beginning of my mandatory cumming routine.




As you can see from the chart I really haven't cummed that much this year, even though it feels to me I have done so an awfully lot. In fact I have only begun to realize what sort a commitment following my Domme friend's prescription actually is. 


After all, it's been almost four years since I've last had the possibility to cum that often, and even before I started chastity play there was days I just didn't feel like masturbating. Never in my life I've had an obligation to masturbate daily. 


At least I haven't cummed nearly as often I am now supposed to. No matter whether I have time or energy for it, no matter if a want to cum. No matter where I am. A cum a day, period. By the time we get to the end of the eight week period it will be fall already.


Like I said, this will be a challenge for me, and I sincerely hope I can keep up with the new routine. At the same time I am extremely happy, not because I get to cum but because it is not me who is control of my orgasms. Since that is the way it's supposed to be, after all. 


Already there has been more than one occasions when I wouldn't have even liked to masturbate, but done so anyway, because I have to. To feel your own hand pulling on your limp clit, and knowing it has nothing to do with whether I want it or not, is extremely arousing. It also makes one to feel wonderfully used.

Monday, July 9, 2018

9.7.2018

I have a creative dilemma.

I have more or less surrendered to the needs of my body and cum more or less regularly now, about once in five days. That's much less than in 2012, when I begun the chastity play and had used to cumming daily, but much, much more than what's been the norm during last six years.

In fact I have started cumming so often it's been quite a while I have even bothered to set my chastity counter on my blogs. And that is totally unacceptable. Everyone visiting any of my blogs deserves to know exactly how long has it been since my last ejaculation, to the minute, right?

I wish I didn't have to cum this often. The main reason I do it is to get my mind off sex, and to be able to concentrate on other things, above all the project I'm in charge of. Usually I try to postpone it as long as possible, which is easy for a certain amount of days due to the fact I am so busy.

However, usually after five or so days I get too distracted and stressed out and my body takes control. I have to take my limp little clit into my hand and start pulling on it. Usually at that point I am filled with feelings of shame as well as being incredibly turned on, from the mere fact what I am doing.

Usually it doesn't take me very long to spill my sissy seed. At the moment of ejaculation, or immediately after it, as I pant face flushed, I usually curse my body, hating what it forces me to do. My seed is usually very watery and there's no more than a few drops of it. At that moment all that excitement and huffing and puffing seems so pointless.

But what about my creative dilemma then?

Well, as you know, my favourite way of enjoying porn is to write it myself, and there is a longish story I have tried to finish for several months now. The problem is by the time I start masturbating I am usually so horny I manage to write only few lines before I spill my seed.

On the other had if I wrote it without being horny it would show in the end result. For the text to... well, feel right, to be steamy enough I need to be horny, and to masturbate as I write it. The text needs to be born out of my horniness, for it to be able to reflect my innermost, most deepest, darkest and most perverted fantasies. Fantasies that are pure me, the part I want to expose to the world.

I do know the answer to my dilemma would be to edge more, but not to cum. It wouldn't take more than a promise to myself to achieve it. I could even start a longer chastity period again. The idea fills me with such excitement.

I miss the feeling one gets after being chaste so long one forgets what cumming even feels like, but feels sexual nevertheless. I miss the time when I was able to edge 12 or 24 hours in a row without cumming, and still knowing I wouldn't cum, since it would spoil everything.

However, at the moment I am too stressed out and busy for it, too much a slave to my libido and my sissy testicles. Truth to tell, it's been extremely hard even to write this post, and not to start masturbating. Even though it's been less than 24 hours since the last spill.

Perhaps I should cum as much as my body needs to, until the project is finished, which will take palce in less than a week's time, knowing I will award myself with a long and purifying chastity period as soon as it's over?

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

4.7.2018

I think I should share something with you that may or may not interest you. It's not strictly speaking anything erotic, nor does it have much to do my sexuality, as such. But it is nice public exposure, in more ways than one. And you all know how much I like exposing myself and what goes inside my perverted little mind to you.

The thing is, lately I have seen quite a lot dreams in which I am nude in public. Nudity isn't as big a taboo over here where I live, than in say USA or rest of the Europe, but personally I have never been that comfortable with it. That applies to my nudity dreams as well, and I usually find them humiliating. Not in a good way that is.


But lately there has been a lot of them. However, it doesn't take a Sigmund Frood to figure what they're about. They're about the project I'm involved in. It's a pretty high profile thing, and I am constantly worried how it is seen from outside, how the scene sees it, and me, since I'm the one in charge.


So yes, since I feel I'm center of the attention, which is not usual for me, "naked" in the eyes of the others, that gets reflected in my dreams. What's weird though I haven't been nearly as ashamed in my dreams as I should be. 


The dreams aren't sexual, not the tiniest bit. Somehow I just end up walking in public places nude in the dreams, or I get nude in public. But the weird thing is I don't seem to be ashamed of it. Not in the least bit. 


"Yes, I'm here stark naked, wow. All these people can see me nude. Okay, so what?" Or: "Yes, I am changing clothes in front of a lot of strange young women. You can see my penis, so what? Yes, I know it's tiny. You haven't seen one as tiny before?"


I can only suspect it means that in terms of the project I'm in charge of I have managed to build some degree of... well, self-esteem, or guts. I know everyone is looking at me, but I'm dealing with it.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

30.6.2018

This is my first blog post in "Chaste Diary" in more or less six months. Many of you may have wondered what has happened to me. Rest assured, I'm still here. Still exploring my femininity, still building up my wardrobe and trying to make my everyday look as girly as possible, still feeling edging is the thing a sissy should do instead of sex or even cumming. I have  been very busy and stressed the past months which has left me all too little time or energy to do so as much as I would have liked, though.

I never made a conscious decision to stop maing blog posts. It just felt in the beginning of the year I had nothing interesting, hot and steamy to tell you about, no new developments in defining my newfound sexuality, no new toys, no new adventures in the sissyland.


And the longer the pause became, the more I felt I should make some sort of big update of my life. And since writing one felt such a big task I kept putting it off. And the longer I put it off the harder it became. You all know how it goes.


I have, however, done a lot of thinking when it comes to gender, sexuality and the roles men and women have in our society, and I will do a post about it at some point. But there's way too much to say on the subject to go into it now.


I will, however, amuse you with another funny little thing, namely my penis. Or to be more precise, a new word I recently made up for it, and a one that I hope will catch on. I think the word descreibes the littl thing dangling between my legs perfectly, and I would just love using it.


The word is penisette.


Penisette is almost like a penis, but smaller. I like the word much more than "dicklette", which implies it has something to do with a real dick. Penisette sounds small, cute, soft and weak. As a proud owner of a penisette I hope it would catch on. I would just love using it.


“Cocklette” has the same issues than dicklette. I would be very uncomfortable using a word with "cock" in it to describe my little dangly part. I often use the word “clit” when speaking of my soft member, but with the world being as binary as it is, people (mostly heterosexual men) often get confused at that point. With penisette there aren't such problems.


What defines penisette isn't merely it’s size, but also it’s use. Penisette rarely is involved in intercourse or appears uncovered in the vicinity of a vagina. The owners of ones mostly relieve the sexual tension by rubbing their penisettes to achieve a some sort of seminal discharge.


That means, in plain terms, they do not get to fuck. Owners of a penisette do not get laid, or at least not very often.


That is not only because of the size of the member between their legs, because after all, there are other means a male can give woman an orgasm. Just as big factor is the mere existence of a penisette, the knowledge they have one.


Because of it they see themselves as inferiors, so called beta males. Males with penisettes simply lack the self-esteem and confidence to approach women. Their penisettes keep them single and without girlfriends.


Many times having a penisette leads only the feelings of inferiority but to sexual submission as well. In fact, the owners of penisettes also often get enjoyment from being sexually denied, and kept sexually frustrated. It is hard to say whether this is true in all cases, but is my case. My penisette has made me the sub I am.


One could even say this is the healthy way to deal with one's inferiority, to make it a fetish and a source of power and sexual energy, as well as a means to express it, by embracing your inferiority. The more destructive way is trying desperately to prove your mandhood to your own as well as the opposite sex, in many negative ways I don't want to go into here.


Often this also involves a need to be “locked up” by a some sort of chastity device. Many owners of penisettes, however, make the mistake of purchasing at first a cage designed for actual penises, which are way, way too big for penisettes. I own a nicely fitting one, but it took me some time to find one that’s small enough.


With penisettes being as small they are there is usually no need for extra space. In fact, the best cage for a penisette is one in which the penisette is pressed into the smallest amount of space possible, to create an incredibly secure and comfortable feeling. My tiny cage is about the size of the head of my penis, but it doesn't need no more room than that.


Naturally, many men with actual size, real penises, some of which even deserve to be called “cocks” do share the same fetish, as well. Their “need to be locked up” may be even more real and necessary than with those of us with penisettes.


The owners of penisettes also often keep them shaved. Not only does it look slightly bigger that way, or it can be at least seen that way, but it makes their owners to feel extremely feminine as well. The thing is, many owners of penisettes have developed a fetish for wearing female clothing and other types of “sissy” behavior.


In many cases this doesn't happen until they are middle-aged. My guess is it takes time to accept you are not actually a man, after years and years of trying to live up to it, and failing. After an owner of a penisette realizes this he usually becomes happier and more content when it comes to his role in life. Or her role, perhaps.


In some cases a penisette is also defined by its ability to get erect. The reasons for this can be various. In my case it is a combination of type one diabetes, age and most likely also psychological factors. But the good thing is, it is not supposed to get erect. I have gotten a great amount of joy from this fact over the years.


Penisette exists, not to get hard, or to have sex. Or at least that is not it’s primary or most suitable function. It’s there for its owner to play with it, which is great fun, perhaps to edge it hours in a row, perhaps to inflict pain by it in various wonderful and inventive ways, or simply to be ridiculed because of it.


The existence of a penisette is, after all, a constant reminder for anyone having one, of one’s place and role in the world.

Sunday, December 24, 2017

24.12.2017

Originally I had no intention to make a separate Christmas Eve post this year, or if I did, to do it about the new anal toys Santa brought me. There won't be many of them though, due to the fact the only person in my life that cares me enough to give me naughty presents is me, or nice for that matter.

Then a sudden inspiration hit me. I started to write a comment on Fetlife, and the next thing I knew I had written out a semi-elaborate fantasy long enough even for a blog post. The group in question was for "chronic masturbators", but the post I wrote my comment on was about medical fantasies.

Since it's Christmas, I decided to post my little fantasy here, as well. I suppose the more proper place for it would have been my fiction blog, but I'll bend my own rues a bit this time. The story combines elements from my fantasies, as well as several stories I have either read or written, but was never able to finish. I hope you like it.


I'm a fan of medical fantasies. Hospitals seem to take away one's basic rights, and make you a part of a system, that has control over you and your bodily functions. When you're in a hospital, you're not a human being anymore, just a piece of flesh. It is not a small wonder nurses and doctors are a fetish for many.

In my fantasy I am admitted to a hospital, perhaps an infertility clinic. The female staff informs me, that as long as I'm there I am not to wear any clothing, or to appear outside my room other than on all fours. I am, for all intents and purposes, made a slave for the entire staff. I am being subjected to various humiliating procedures, the least of which is not being forced to give out the sperm samples regularly while being observed by a member of the female staff every time.

Imagining things like that have always fed quite nicely my need to be humiliated semi-publicly, even to be treated as an inanimate object without rights or a will of my own. Also, due to being a type one diabetic I have had a fair share of experiences of hospitals and nurses, and it is quite easy for me to imagine a number of humiliating experiences that take place in a such setting.

Soon masturbating and ejaculating loses all its erotic quality for me. It is merely a thing I do when I'm being told to, without thinking it twice. I get used to doing it while being observed by a person or several of them, without any kind of privacy, even to do it in a hospital corridor while I'm waiting my turn to be called in for yet another humiliating experience. Masturbating and ejaculating are normal bodily functions, the nurses tell me, and it would do good for me to get rid of all the shame and inhibitions about it.

At one point it is decided I will be given shots to my testicles. At first I am apprehensive, but the nurses assure me it's for my own good. After the first shots I am being told this is a part of an important experiment, and the drug will increase the amount of semen being produced there. This in turn increases my horniness and forces me to empty my testicles even more often than before. 

The more shots I am being given the heavier and fuller my testicles feel, very soon making me to masturbate continually. All the semen is being collected, "for examination purposes" the nurses tell me. I am also informed that all my masturbating will be filmed, and I do some of it in a kind of medical theater, with the whole staff observing. 

If this was a short story, it would be necessary to make the protagonist object to what's happening to him, to fight back, even for a little bit. However, the nurses explain carefully to the protagonist, to me that is, there isn't anything wrong here, and I should stop complaining. They are doing their very best to cure my infertility, and I am not helping. Soon I understand it would be best just to comply.

Time passes, and days turn into weeks and months without me even realizing it. I am in fact quite content with my life inside the institution. Constantly masturbating and cumming isn't that bad a life, after all? Even doing it semi-publicly is something one gets used to amazingly quickly.

Finally, however, I am being told that everything that has happened, or the whole experiment, has in fact had nothing to do with curing my infertility. Instead my semen has been used as a raw material for making high-quality shoe polish for women. The hospital makes some of its profits this way, and my testicles have reacted to the new drug extremely well. Also, the cum my testicles produce has an extremely low sperm count, making it an excellent raw material.

I am also being told there is nothing unethical let alone illegal about the whole process, because it has being done under the consent of my wife. As soon as it was found out how well my testicles responded to the drug, and how low the sperm count in my cum was, they signed a contract that gives the hospital full authority over me, and my wife a fair share of the profits.

They also tell me my wife has no desire to continue her life with me, because it is now certain no miracle cure will increase the sperm count in my semen, and I will never be able to father a child with it. And why would the hospital even want to do it? The cum my testicles now produce benefits it, and my wife, far more than I ever could. Let alone all the happy customers using the product. 

I admit this part of the fantasy has always seemed a bit implausible for me personally, since I've never had a wife, or even a girlfriend who I could picture in that role. But "the evil wife" seems to be a very common trope in a stories written by and for submissive males, and the story needs it, so I'll let it be. But it could be the protagonist's evil girlfriend as well, or evil mother, or even an evil big sister. Who knows, perhaps all of them together.   

After some time passes again I am being informed that despite my constant masturbating I am too ineffective getting all the sperm out of my testicles myself. That is, too ineffective for the hospital to make the kind of profit in needs to. It turns out the new shoe polish is in high demand, and both the hospital and my wife have come to the conclusion the production needs to be speeded up. 

Therefore I am being taken out of the hospital and brought to the shoe-polish making facility itself. I am being wheeled into a huge factory hall and a huge apparatus that covers my whole groin area is being lowered from above. I am being attached to the milking machine and it starts to masturbate me continually, as well as inject my testicles with the drug regularly. 

The technicians leave, the nurses leave without saying a word, and I look around me. There are tubes going from the apparatus to huge tanks where my sperm is being stored. I have no option that just to lay there, unable to move, and turned into a human semen cow.


Merry Christmas!