Chapter 17: The Consultation
The damp, mineral scent of underground concrete mixed with the sharp tang of antiseptic and the underlying musk of old leather. The Underground Body Mod Parlor wasn't for the timid. Chrome gleamed under harsh industrial lights, reflecting off glass cabinets displaying unnerving arrays of implants, piercings, and tools that looked borrowed from an auto shop. Posters plastered the walls: airbrushed shemales showcasing impossible augmentations – metallic cock sheaths, glowing subdermal patterns, sacs swollen to cartoonish proportions. Beneath the thrumming bass from a hidden speaker, the rhythmic whirr-clank of machinery echoed from deeper within.
Ren hopped onto the cracked vinyl examination table, the sound loud in the small consultation booth. She shimmied her tight trousers down past her hips, pooling around her ankles, leaving her lean frame exposed from the waist down. Her small, perpetually erect cock stood stiffly at attention, framed by her modest, naturally firm balls. She bounced her legs nervously, the small table vibrating. "Okay, Zed. Hit me. Make 'em majestic." Her voice aimed for swagger but landed closer to a nervous tremor. "Not too majestic, though. Don't wanna trip over 'em."
Zed, the mod artist, was a mountain of scar tissue and faded ink. His own considerable cock and heavy sac were encased in practical, grease-stained work pants. He chewed thoughtfully on a toothpick, his eyes critically assessing Ren's anatomy. He prodded her balls with a thick, surprisingly gentle finger. "Small canvas, Ren. Real small. Standard sac implants? We can do it. Silicone. Gel-filled. Get you some respectable swing." He gestured vaguely towards the cabinet. "Got sizes. Small melons to prize-winning pumpkins."
Ilda leaned against a grimy tool cabinet, idly toying with her own large, empty sac. The loose skin slid easily between her fingers, a familiar, almost soothing habit she’d developed to keep it supple. She watched Zed’s assessment, then piped up, her voice casual, distracted, as if commenting on the weather. "Zed? Could you... make Ren's squishy? Like mine?" She gave her own sac a demonstrative, pliable squeeze. "Not firm like those silicone blobs. Like... loose skin? So she can play with it?"
Maria, perched on a nearby stool, snorted. Her innocent face contorted into a wicked grin. "Squishy? Fuck, Ilda, wanting her to match your gloriously empty coin purse?" She winked. "Adorable. And kinky."
Ren flushed, looking from her own small equipment to Ilda's void. "Uh, squishy? Like... empty-feeling squishy? Zed, is that… even a thing? Do I gotta get castrated first? 'Cause, hard pass on that particular upgrade, thanks." Her small cock gave an anxious twitch.
Zed scratched his stubbled chin, the toothpick bobbing. "Squishy like Ilda's? That takes... time. And emptiness. What she's got ain't silicone, kid. It's biology's fuck you package." He eyed Ren's modest balls again. "Fitting implants small enough not to look like tumors? Possible. Making 'em feel like loose skin? Nah. Physics." He snapped his fingers. "But... got another option. Something new. Experimental. Not for sacks. For the content." He leaned closer to Ren, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Volume Amplification Injection. VAI. Juice up the factory. Hyper-stimulate the cum production. Get you pumping gallons. Literally. Balls stay small. Compact. But the payload?" He whistled. "Think firehose. Think drowning hazard."
Ren's eyes widened. Her constant erection pulsed visibly. "Gallons? Seriously? With these?" She cupped her small balls protectively. "Wouldn't they... explode?"
"Designed not to," Zed stated, pulling a glossy brochure from a drawer. It showed diagrammatic cross-sections of small testicles miraculously producing vast quantities of fluid. "The VAI reprograms the ducts. Massive output, minimal storage time. Means you'll be... leaky. Constantly primed. But potent. Very potent." He tapped the brochure. "Biggest draw? Makes you a fucking prize for bottoms. Size queens like the visual," he nodded towards Maria, who preened slightly. "But bottoms? They crave the load. The proof. The drowning. You'd be worshipped."
Ilda’s fingers stilled on her sac. She looked at Ren, then at Maria. The memory of her own recent, semen-triggered cataclysm flashed – the sheer, overwhelming intensity. "Ren... that sounds... messy." But a flicker of intrigue crossed her face. "Imagine the orgasms you could give someone." The thought of being on the receiving end of that volume sent a phantom ache through her empty core.
Maria slid off the stool, her petite frame suddenly radiating command. She stepped beside the table, placing a proprietary hand near Ren's hip, her gaze fixed on Zed. "Right. VAI. Talk numbers, Zed. Cost. Risks. How 'leaky' is 'leaky'? We talking inconvenient drips or needing fucking diapers?" Her tone was pure negotiation, the sailor fully surfaced. "And don't bullshit me about side effects. She's my partner. Both of them are."
Ren looked torn between terror and a strange, burgeoning excitement. The idea of being desired not for size she lacked, but for something she could produce... "Constantly primed? Like... always ready to blow?"
"Essentially," Zed confirmed. "Stimulation? Climax happens fast. And hard. Volume is the main event. Potential side effects?" He shrugged massive shoulders. "Localized tenderness. Possible minor incontinence under extreme pressure. Mostly? You become a walking fountain of jizz. Popular with the 'Bukkake Brigade' types." He named a notorious fetish group. "And anyone who likes a bath."
Maria haggled with the ruthless efficiency of a street vendor. She questioned the science, the sourcing of the VAI serum, the aftercare, the warranty (there wasn't one). Zed met her crude intensity with weary professionalism, his prices dropping incrementally. Ren watched, mesmerized, her small cock bobbing in time with her nervous heartbeat. Ilda drifted closer, her large breasts brushing Ren's arm as she leaned in to whisper, "Think of the parties, Ren. You'd be legendary. Forget swinging what you haven't got. Drown them in what you can make."
Finally, Maria slapped the cracked vinyl beside Ren's thigh. "Deal. But you throw in the numbing gel and a discount on Ilda's next harness adjustment. Her girls are putting serious strain on the leather." She winked at Ilda.
Zed grunted, pulling open a heavy drawer. He retrieved a small, refrigerated case. Inside, nestled in foam, sat a syringe filled with a viscous, pearlescent fluid that seemed to glow faintly under the harsh lights. Beside it lay a terrifyingly large-gauge needle. "Right. On the table, Ren. Legs up, knees bent. Feet flat." He snapped on latex gloves with a loud snick.
Ren paled. "Fuck me, that needle! Are you shitting me? That's for horses!"
"Needs deep intramuscular injection. Into the spermatic cord. Right next to the jewels," Zed stated matter-of-factly, wiping Ren's inner thigh with icy antiseptic. "Don't tense. Makes it worse."
Maria gripped Ren's hand, her small fingers surprisingly strong. "Look at me, Ren. Deep breaths. Think about the gallons. Think about drowning that cute barista who always shorts your espresso." Her crude encouragement was bizarrely comforting.
Ilda stood at Ren's shoulder, her large presence a solid warmth. She resumed her idle play with her own empty sac, the familiar motion a strange counterpoint to the medical tension. "Just a pinch, Ren," she murmured, her voice low and steady. "Then you become the Cum Queen."
Zed positioned the needle. Ren squeezed her eyes shut, Maria's hand a vise, Ilda's presence a wall. The needle pierced skin. Ren hissed, a sharp intake of breath. Zed depressed the plunger slowly, steadily. The pearlescent fluid vanished into Ren's body. The sensation wasn't just pain; it was a deep, spreading warmth, an intense pressure building low in her groin, centered on her small balls. It felt alien, invasive, like her body was being rewired from the inside.
He withdrew the needle, pressing a gauze pad to the tiny bead of blood. "Done. Effects start kicking in within the hour. Production ramps up fast. Hydrate. A lot. You're gonna be pissing like a racehorse and producing like a porn star." He slapped Ren's thigh. "Get dressed. Payment's up front."
Ren sat up slowly, dazed. The warmth was intensifying. She gingerly touched her small balls. They felt... warmer. Fuller, somehow, despite their size. A tiny, involuntary spurt of clear pre-cum leaked from her cock tip, more than usual, landing on her thigh. She stared at it, wide-eyed.
Maria pulled Ren's trousers up for her, a gesture startlingly tender amidst the crudeness. "There we go, Cum Fountain. Let's get you home before the floodgates open." She slipped an arm around Ren's waist.
Ilda smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. She gave her own empty sac one final, thoughtful squeeze, feeling the familiar loose skin. "Squishy has its charm," she mused, her gaze lingering on Ren's groin where unimaginable pressure was building. "But gallons? That’s a whole new kind of power." She followed them out, the rhythmic whirr-clank of the parlor fading behind them, replaced by the low thrum of Ren's brewing internal storm.
The heavy steel door of the parlor clanged shut behind them, muffling the metallic heartbeat of machinery. Ren shuffled, her gait stiff and awkward. "Holy hell, it feels... pressurized," she mumbled, adjusting herself with a wince. A distinct damp patch was already spreading on the front of her trousers, darkening the fabric. "Like my nuts are tiny overfilled water balloons someone’s squeezing." She looked down, horrified and fascinated. "Are they supposed to throb this much?"
Maria chuckled, the sound low and warm despite the vulgarity ready to spill. "Told you, Fountain. Feel the power?" She patted Ren's back, her small hand surprisingly grounding. "Bet you could water a garden right now. Or drown a small rodent." She steered Ren towards the exit stairs. "Home. Now. Before you christen the sidewalk."
Ilda trailed slightly behind, her eyes fixed on the growing wet spot. The rhythmic play with her own large, loose sac paused. A familiar, deep ache stirred low in her belly, a phantom hunger awakened by the sheer potential leaking from her friend. "You look like you walked through a car wash crotch-first, Ren," she observed, her tone light but her gaze intense. "Promise you won't empty the reservoir before I get a taste test?"
The walk home was a humid slog punctuated by Ren's stifled gasps and constant readjustments. Every step seemed to jostle the volatile cargo within. By the time they stumbled into their shared loft apartment, the damp patch covered most of Ren’s inner thighs, the sharp, coppery-sweet smell of semen cutting through the lingering scent of street food and exhaust. Ren practically lunged for the bathroom, her small cock visibly straining against the soaked fabric. "Can't... pants... off!" she yelped, fumbling with the button.
Maria leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Ren struggle with amused detachment. "Easy there, Geyser. Aim carefully. Remember the deposit Zed mentioned? We don't need a slip-and-slide in here." She glanced back at Ilda, who stood near the unmade bed, idly tracing the outline of her empty pouch through her thin sleep shorts. "Someone’s looking... thirsty."
Ren finally kicked the sodden trousers away, standing naked except for her socks. Her small balls looked swollen, tight, and intensely red, the skin stretched taut and gleaming. A steady, clear dribble escaped her cock tip, tracing a wet line down her inner thigh to pool on the tile. "It won't stop," she whispered, her voice tight with panic and something else – a raw, desperate edge. "It just... leaks. Like a tap someone left open."
Ilda moved then, shedding her own shorts and top in a fluid motion. Her G-cup breasts swayed heavily, a bead of milk escaping one nipple to trace a path down her pale skin. She dropped to her knees on the cool bathroom tiles in front of Ren, her large, empty sac settling between her thighs. "Then let's open the tap properly," she murmured, her voice thick. Her hand reached out, not for Ren’s cock, but to gently cradle the swollen, overheated balls. She squeezed lightly, experimentally. Ren gasped, arching, and a sudden gush of pre-cum splashed onto Ilda’s wrist, thick and warm. Ilda brought her wrist to her mouth, licking it clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue. "Salty," she breathed, her eyes darkening. "Good salty." Then, without further preamble, she leaned forward and took Ren’s small, straining cock entirely into her mouth.
Ren cried out, a sharp, startled sound. Her hips jerked instinctively. Ilda’s mouth, impossibly hot and wet, enveloped her. The sensation was overwhelming, a direct line to the volcanic pressure building inside her. Ilda worked with focused intensity, her tongue swirling, her lips creating a tight seal, her head bobbing with surprising speed. She wasn’t just sucking; she was demanding surrender.
It was less than two minutes. Ren’s thighs trembled violently. A guttural groan ripped from her throat, primal and raw. "Oh fuck! ILDA!" Her back arched like a drawn bow. Then it erupted. Not a spurt, but a torrent. Thick, viscous ropes of semen blasted into Ilda’s mouth with shocking force, filling it instantly. Ilda’s eyes widened, then fluttered shut as she swallowed convulsively, a deep, satisfied hum vibrating against Ren’s flesh. Milk leaked freely from her nipples now, dripping onto the tiles, mingling with the mess. Ren’s orgasm seemed endless, her body locked in violent tremors, her cock pulsing like a frantic heartbeat against Ilda’s tongue. When the initial surge finally subsided, leaving Ren panting and shaking, Ilda pulled back slightly, gasping, a thick strand of come connecting her lips to Ren’s glistening tip. She swallowed heavily, licking her lips. "Fuck, Ren," she rasped, her voice hoarse. "That was... productive."
Ren sagged against the wall, her legs barely holding her. "I... I think I’m empty?" she whispered, dazed. But even as she spoke, Ilda, eyes gleaming with renewed hunger, dove back down. Ren’s cock, impossibly, was still rock hard. The second climax hit Ren with terrifying speed, barely thirty seconds after the first subsided. This time, the volume was just as staggering, a relentless flood Ilda struggled to keep up with, gulping frantically, semen overflowing to coat her chin and drip onto her heaving breasts. She moaned around Ren’s cock, the vibration triggering another wave. The sensation of semen coating her mouth, her throat – the direct contact – ignited Ilda’s own nerves. A strangled cry escaped her as her body convulsed in a powerful, shuddering orgasm, her empty sac tightening momentarily, her back arching. Her thighs clenched, milk spraying in short bursts onto the already slick floor.
Ren’s legs finally gave out. She slid down the wall, landing hard on her ass in the puddle of fluids, utterly spent, her cock softening slightly but still weeping steadily. Ilda knelt, gasping, her face and chest glazed white, trembling from her own climax. The third eruption was already starting, less forceful but still voluminous, a final thick pulse spilling weakly from Ren over Ilda’s fingers where they still rested near the base. Maria, who had watched the entire spectacle with a mix of awe and dark amusement, finally pushed off the doorframe. She surveyed the scene: Ren collapsed and leaking, Ilda dazed and dripping, the floor a gleaming, sticky lake reflecting the harsh bathroom light. She sniffed the thick, pungent air. "Well," she drawled, her innocent face belying the crude satisfaction in her voice. "Guess the VAI works. Anyone got a mop? Or maybe just a very large sponge?" She nudged Ren’s bare foot with her own. "Hydrate, Fountain. Looks like you’ve got a busy day ahead."