🍄 oh no 🍄

It just goes to show the cruelty of the man. Like he isn't the one who dosed Grian with experimental potions that sent him into a feverish haze, colors smearing across his vision. It's not even that Grian set out to be a brat this time. He just really can't help himself. The steady, implacable pistoning of the toy lined up behind him is good, but in his drug-induced heat it's nowhere near enough for him. If he could, he'd be arching his back, thrusting his hips back to take it harder and deeper. Instead, all that's left to him is to beg and plead and endure Doc's gloating over his pitiful lack of self-control.

The remains of his dignity are liquefying. Dissolved by the unbearable chemical craving that burns in his bloodstream, they drip from him as sweat and drool. He doesn't miss them as he babbles and whines and debases himself eagerly for just a bit more stimulation. As he agrees that he'd do anything. His head unrestrained, he nods along dumb and desperate with every icy, judgemental word. Feeling good is all that matters. It's all he cares about.

And he can hear it the moment Doc relents, the hollow clank of the machine as it hits the next gear. Grian's vision spins. Some dim corner of his mind questions giddily if the sound is even necessary. Or if Doc put it in just because he gets a kick out of training him to respond to it. Anyway, it's working. Embarrassingly well. Grian's teeth catch his lip, toes curling in conditioned anticipation.

And it's only reinforced further as he feels every millimetre of the flexible rubber shaft expanding inside of him. The growing bulk simply makes room for itself, and his hole puts up no resistance. Soon the length of it is sliding in and out at a measured but unstoppable pace. Every thrust reaches deeper. Grian's stomach flexes as it prods a tender spot, helpless against the advance as it breaches it, opening him up. He clenches around the intrusion, the dull squirmy pressure of it, his breath forced out in huffs as his insides slowly relax and give in.

If there's something quite gentle about the way Doc's flesh and blood fingers thread through his fringe and grip it close by the roots, there's no kindness in it when his hand suddenly tightens and pulls Grian's lolling head up, sharp enough to make his eyes water.

Doc studies him for a long moment and then casually levers his mouth open, two metal fingers pressing down on his tongue. And that's all it takes. In an instant, his mouth is thoroughly claimed. Any remaining defiance collapses in a shamefully pleasurable rush. Grian's jaw and lips soften, offering no resistance. His tongue traces over the intruding digits, meek and appeasing as they explore his palate. It's all he can do to wordlessly beg mercy from the invading metal. The tears caught at the corners of his eyes swell and run down his cheeks. His insides clench around the reaming shaft, open and greedy from the flood of submission.

Another click. The animalistic quiver permeates Grian's whole body as he hears the sound. His tamed mouth impales itself on Doc's fingers with a muffled squeal of gratitude. The mechanical cock stretches him from the inside out, friction making his eyes roll back as it withdraws. Thrusting back in it bulges out his belly, the sheer uncompromising bulk of it forcing him to conform to its shape. It drags over his prostate ruthlessly until his cock twitches and leaks his submission in a steady stream, failing to get fully hard.

Most of his abstract thinking has been systematically fucked away, so it takes a moment for the meaning to sink in when Doc tells him to get ready for phase two. There's going to be more? More is possible? He's so happy.

Pipes chug. From openings along the shaft, the dildo starts pumping out potion-laced lubrication. Grian's skin flushes fever-red all over. His ears are ringing. With every heartbeat he can feel more chemically-induced lust being pushed into his brain. Patches of sparkling darkness take over his vision. His mouth is vacated and just hangs open now as he pants for breath.

None of it matters as much as getting his drugged, sloppy hole dominated by the machine. The toy grows another increment right at the apex of a thrust. The shock of it as it bulges out his belly pushes him into climax, weak spurts of seed forced out in the rhythm of the fucking he's receiving.

That breaks a dam inside him. He's nothing but a body pushed into reaction now, wrapped around the merciless girth of the toy and pounded through a series of orgasms that all start to blend together. His heartbeat speeds up. He can't stop cumming. He can't take a full breath.

A pulsing red haze is swallowing his vision but Grian can still hear the whirs and clanks of another level higher. Another hot, tingling dosage. His stomach deforms around the huge pressure, his cock spurts, his heart labours. Grian is floating above his body. He only feels the final rush of bliss hit his system, incomprehensible that anything can feel that good. Then blackout.

Clean clothes, cool sheets. He's on his back. Staring at a wall that registers slowly as Doc's bedroom. It takes longer to piece together that he's just hit respawn, and why. Grian blows out a breath. He feels fine. Respawning has cleared his system of Doc's experimental potions, of the endogenous drugs of sex and submission.

But the memories are there, and they're vivid. Of his thoughts blanketed by a drugged frenzy. His body surrendering, addicted to the massive stretch. Sucking on Doc's metal hand, an abject, mewling creature of pure need.

He misses it instantly. It hits his stomach, the kind of craving that makes him itchy.

That's when Doc sticks his head through the door in a way that can fairly be called a bit sheepish. Not that they didn't plan for this - Grian's spawn is set in his bed, after all. Hitting his limit is what he's here for. Why he offered himself up as a guinea pig in the first place. But Doc must have gotten greedy for his reaction. Impatient. He rushed through the process. Grian loves knowing he can make him lose his prized composure.