The Extraction Nurse II

Have a good Christmas everyone.

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The Nutrition Nurse

Robert senses the ennui of post coitus ecstatic release... yet there has been no ecstasy... only the agony of electrical shock. He lies immobile, hands and arms tethered, collared neck holding rigid his head. He attempts to assess the modest room... institutionally ascetic, tiled floor, cabinets, medical paraphernalia hanging from white walls, the electro ejaculation machine with other unknown devices resting at the far wall. 

Within minutes of the departure of the extraction nurse, the room door abruptly opens, no knock.

Another nurse enters, dour, middle aged, white uniform, wheeling a cart.

She wordlessly moves to the side of the masturbation table and picks up a chart from the cart.

“Robert. Well, Robert, I’m about to become one of your best friends. I’m going to feed you.”

Robert begins to utter words and catches himself, heeding the advice of the extraction nurse concerning silence... and obedience.

“You new boys always have trouble with the feeding tube. But keep in mind it is what will keep you going. Entering your system, at all times, will be a special formula of nutrients, carbohydrates, hydration, vitamins... and hormones...  which will have you spurting like a whale,” the latter words coming with a boisterous laugh.

A long thin tube is retrieved from the cart. Large meaty hands coat it with unguent.

“Once the tube is in place, it will require a few days for you to acclimate, but you’ll soon learn the joys of never being hungry... never being thirsty. I will control everything that goes into you. You’ll not get fat... you’ll not get thin,” more laughter as the nurse steps forth with the tube.

“Be a good boy for me,” a sizable left hand entwines in the cranial hair, firmly holding in place the head. “Easy now, relax. And when you feel something pressing at the back of your throat just swallow. It will make it so much easier for you.”

The fingers of the right hand aline the tube with the left nostril. The nurse instantly presses, slipping the long tube inwards. Robert senses his head being invaded, his sinus cavity pressured. Then there comes the feeling of something pushing into the depths of his throat. He gags. The nurse laughs.

“Swallow. You will take the tube. They all do. I have much time and suspect you have limited resistance.”

Robert obeys. The tube slithers to his stomach. The left hand releases its formidable grip and pats his head, owner to compliant dog.

“Very good.”  

The opposing end of the tube is unraveled and connected to a waiting spigot on the wall to Robert’s left.

“Have that pecker of yours standing in a heartbeat,” the nurse crassly proclaims as a valve is turned.

Robert is horrified to see the clear tube slowly fill with whiteness. Sludge glides forth to his nose. A moment later he feels his stomach forcibly accept whatever it is the nurse decides he should ingest. 

“Rather scary isn’t it? Could be slow poison. That’s something for you to think about. But then again, if we wanted you dead... didn’t want your seed... you’d be dead.”

Another boisterous laugh as the nurse steps to the right wall and unhooks a breathing mask.

“We like our boys to be nice a calm when not being jerked off,” the words crass and notably unprofessional. “You’ll be sleeping most of your time here. If your dick isn’t performing for us, there’s no point in having you conscious.”

With that, a breathing mask is slipped over Robert’s head, a pouch of rubber covering nose and mouth. Hands secured, he has no choice but accept... and eventually inhale. The sweet fragrance of nitrous oxide enters his uncluttered nostril. He begins to feel drowsy. His last vision is that of his nutrition nurse, standing arms akimbo, smiling, reveling in her governance. His last thought is precisely as she promulgated... ‘what is it she is forcing into my system?’.