PeterFiles: The Scrotum Scrubber

A satirical erotic fantasy in 1 chapter, for adult masturbators.
by Richard Lovel – Copyright 2025 – All rights reserved

Wherein a shy chronic masturbator takes a job with LowGiene Labs testing the ScrotumScrubber, an innovative hygiene system designed to clean those hard-to-reach areas of the male genitals. He undergoes prolonged sexual stimulation with deferral or denial of ejaculation, closely monitored and observed by laboratory technicians.

 

The Job Interview

The receptionist, a frumpy middle-aged woman of plain appearance, looks up with a scowl, annoyed at the visitor for interrupting her enjoyment of a copy of Cosmopolitan. “Yeah? Can I help you?”

A nerdy young man In a wrinkled button-up shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans, and oversized glasses stands before her. He fidgets nervously with the strap of his messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. His eyes dart around the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the receptionist. “I … I called about the … the research project.”

“Name?”

“Peter … Peter Stroker.”

A barely suppressed guffaw, “Oh … Riiight…! the chronic masturbator job. Well fill out this form.” She hands him a multi-part form on a clipboard. “And make sure you fill out the Fetish section. Dr. Oberherr pays a lot of attention to that.”

Peter Stroker, a college freshman needing a summer job, had stumbled upon a cryptic ad which brought him to the office of LowGiene Labs. LowGiene sought young adult males to assist with testing their latest product, the ScrotumScrubber 2.0 – an advanced AI-based male hygiene device. The primary qualification was an “active history of chronic masturbation”. With his acute sense of self-ridicule, Peter mused that his abilities made him an ideal candidate.

Peter completed the application and handed it back to the receptionist. He watched with embarrassment as she flipped through the pages, carefully checking that every line was filled. “Looks like you’re a natural, all right,” she finished with a smirk and pressed the the intercom on her desk. “Dr. Oberherr, the new masturbator is here.” She motioned for Peter to go into the doctor’s office.

Seated regally behind the desk, a striking woman in her 40s with sharp, angular facial features framed by steel-rimmed glasses exuded a commanding and intimidating aura. Her precise Germanic appearance was amplified by her starched lab coat, as she motioned for Peter to take a seat.

“Und, you are Peter Stroker?” she asked briskly in a crisp German accent. “An unusual name, but perhaps fitting.” She introduced herself as Dr. Brünnhilde Oberherr, Chief Scientist at LowGiene Laboratories. She looked over Peter’s application form before locking eyes with him. “And you’re here about the research subject position? So, you have thoroughly understood the unusual qualities we are looking for in a research subject? The specific characteristics that are necessary? Have you those characteristics”

Peter blushed and nodded, remembering his excitement to read “… seeking chronic masturbators over eighteen to ,,,.”

“Let me describe our company’s situation, Mr. Stroker. LowGiene Laboratories provides creative solutions for lower-body personal hygiene and genital grooming for males. Good hygiene in this area is crucial for overall confidence and well-being, and our products offer safe and effective methods for genital self-care.”

“Our primary product is the ScrotumScrubber, an innovative hygiene tool specifically designed to thoroughly cleanse the hard-to-reach areas of the male body. Using precisely controlled water sprays, it ensures a superior level of cleanliness for the male genital organs. Moreover it reinforces regular use by providing a highly pleasurable experience, leaving users feeling refreshed and looking forward to future use.”

Dr. Oberherr explained that the first generation of the ScrotumScrubber has proved problematic. “We have encountered an interesting complication. Users are becoming addicted to the stimulation it provides. This has led to potential legal issues, as wives and girlfriends blame the ScrotumScrubber for diverting their partners’ sexual attention.” She bluntly concluded. “These pathetic wankers are going pussy-free.” Peter swallowed and shifted nervously.

She continued that to address this problem, LowGiene has developed ScrotumScrubber 2.0 with an AI-based governor programed to prevent ejaculation during use. The product requires accurate training of the AI model, and the company employs male subjects over 18 with an extensive history of chronic masturbation. The training comprises testing and fine-tuning the device’s orgasm-prevention algorithms by sexually stimulating subjects and monitoring their arousal for extended periods of time.

“We can not ethically subject normal men to such stress because it might addict them to the unnaturally strong sensations. Chronic masturbators are accustomed to prolonged arousal and unlikely to suffer incremental harm from the tests. As I presume you understand from personal experience.” Peter winced at this direct reference to his masturbatory habits, so accurately and clinically described.

“Mr. Stroker, let me be clear,” Dr. Oberherr continued, eyes narrowing as she noted his squirming. “Participation in this project requires a certain… openness. Your role would involve using the ScrotumScrubber while under close observation and controlled conditions. Can you execute a complete male sexual arousal cycle, including ejaculation, in an open laboratory while being closely observed?”

“I think so, Dr. Obeherr. I … I don’t have a lot of experience, really.”

She pressed her intercom. “Mrs. Wilson, would you please come in for a moment?” The receptionist entered, standing beside Dr. Oberherr’s desk, looking at Peter. No longer grumpy, there was a knowing grin of anticipation on her face.”

Dr. Obeherr cooly instructed, “Mr. Stroker, you will now masturbate for us.”

Peter was shocked and dumbfounded. “You want me to … right here … in front of you …?”

“Ja, sicherlich. It is a simple test of your abilities to perform under observation. We do not wish to waste laboratory time on useless, impotent subjects. Begin now, please.”

Peter’s face was red with embarrassment as he unfastened his pants and exposed his penis. Dr. Oberherr watched him with a cold, objective gaze, while Mrs. Wilson smirked with disdain at his modest genitals. Peter felt like he was in a daze as he began to masturbate, unable to believe that he was actually doing this in front of these women. It was not an act of pleasure, rather one of obeisance and surrender. Somehow he managed to reach ejaculation and released his semen and Dr. Oberherr handed him a tissue to clean up. The wet streaks on his trousers remained as evidence of what had just occurred.

“Your demonstration was satisfactory. We will accept you as a subject. Go now with Mrs. Wilson who will give you the contract of employment and an advance payment on your service. Please report back in seven days. And you will please to refrain from masturbating or ejaculating during this time.”

Full Range Calibration

The required period of chastity was a struggle for him, but finally the day came and he hurried back to LowGiene. The receptionist greeted him with a wry grin. “I hope you ate your Wheaties this morning,” and led him down the hallway to the laboratory wing,

As he stepped inside, Peter felt a frisson of excitement and nervousness. A young woman in scrubs and a lab coat had her back turned to him as she worked on a gleaming machine, its hoses and nozzles suggesting mysterious functions. “Hey there!” She pivoted on her heel, her scrubs hugging her curves, an incongruous sight amidst wires and monitors. “You must be Peter, right? I’m Chloe Handell. I’m Dr. Oberherr’s Genital Technician. I’ll be doing the manual parts of the testing.“

Peter nodded, his throat tightening as he stares at the device meant to manipulate his most intimate parts.

Chloe noticed his worried look. “Okay, so like, let me walk you through this. It’s nothing to be afraid of. The ScrotumScrubber is basically just a fancy power-washer for your boy bits. It’s all super scientific but also, like, totally amazing.”

Peter’s ears burned, his face flushing as she showed him. “See, the guy gets down on his hands and knees, totally naked, on this cushy bench. These straps clamp onto his wrists, and make him feel all nice and buckled in. Ankle straps keep his legs apart, and right between your legs, where all of your stuff hangs down, water shoots out all from different angles just right to get you squeaky clean. Go ahead and strip down to your birthday suit, I’ll just get everything else ready for your big debut.”

As Peter stripped naked, his fingers clumsy with humiliation, Chloe ignored him and busied herself with preparations, her movements smooth and assured. When she turned around she grinned.

“Wow, aren’t we Mr. Modest today?” she teased, as he instinctively tried to cover his genitals. “Don’t worry, hun. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before—though I gotta say, we’re not exactly dealing with a monster truck here, are we?”

Her laughter tinkled in the room, crystalline and light, as if they were sharing a private joke rather than her diminishing his manhood to a punchline. The shame entwined with a perverse thrill that only deepened his embarrassment.

“Let’s get you strapped down on the Scrubber.” She guided him onto the washing bench on his hands and knees, gently positioning the straps, her hair occasionally brushing against his genitals and eliciting a slight shudder from him. “Just relax,” Chloe said soothingly, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Chloe took a step back and gave the restraints one last check. “All snug and secure,” she said with satisfaction. With the press of a button, the straps tightened around his wrists and ankles, and a with soft mechanical whir his legs were spread apart, leaving his genitals exposed for easy access. Peter remained lying there, bound and vulnerable, like a pinned specimen.

Chloe took a step back and gave the restraints one last check. With the press of a button, the straps tightened around his wrists and ankles, and a with soft mechanical whir his legs were spread apart, leaving his genitals open for access. Peter remained lying there, bound and vulnerable, like a pinned specimen. “There now. All snug and secure,” she said with satisfaction. “How does that feel?”

Peter couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and helpless, yet he also felt a strange sense of comfort and security. The tight straps restricted his movements, relieving him of any chance to take action or responsibility for what was going to occur. It was actually exciting.

“So now I need to get your dickie numbers, soft and hard.” Chloe holds a ruler up to his flaccid penis and giggled. “OMG, that’s like so small,” she says as she jots it down in her notebook. “But don’t worry, babe. It’s just as cute as a bug. Can you pop a big boner now? I wanna check it maxed out.” Peter tried but from anxiety his penis remained small and flaccid. Chloe tried to arouse him by gently stroking his penis, but he still couldn’t achieve an erection.

She playfully pouted, “Hey, Stroker boy, like I’m jealous. If you could jack a load for that old battle-axe Mrs. Wilson, can’t you get just one little boner for Chloe?”

“I… I’m… trying, really.”

“Aww, I know, you’re just nervous! I understand, it’s OK. I’ve totally read your file. It’s that pussy-performance thing, isn’t it? But don’t worry, sweetie. There’s no pressure here. I know you’re a masturbator, a pussy-less virgin. I know all about your little fear of girls and how you get all jittery and go limp around them. You can just be soft and let me play with your pee-pee. Let’s talk about things that make you feel good while I wiggle your little thingy. You love when a girl teases you and makes fun of you. That’s the kind of stuff you fantasize about, isn’t it? It’s like those CFNM videos you watch where a girl dommes it over a naked guy, tickling his ‘wee-wee’ and saying teasing things that make him feel silly and pathetic. You wish a girl would make you jerk off for her, like the JOI videos. And you love this position, don’t you? You’re like a little cow waiting to be milked, all strapped down and helpless. I bet you’d like to moo for me. And we both know you’ll never get any pussy because girls can see what a pathetic wanker you are…oh look, we have a siffy now!” Laughing, Chloe grabbed her ruler and measured his small achievement. “Boys like you just need a little psychology.”

Next, Chloe’s gloved hand reached for an object lying on the tray beside her. “Gonna need you to take a deep breath for me, sweetie, and relax” she instructed, her tone shifting to one of clinical detachment. She squeezed some KY onto the rectal probe and slipped slipped it deeply into him, eliciting a gasp of shock. “The probe’s gonna track your prostate tension, ya know, to keep tabs on how worked up you’re getting. That way, we can tell when a boy’s about to blow his load.”

Dr. Oberherr entered and asked Chloe if everything was ready. Peter felt incredibly embarrassed spread naked and exposed in front of the two women, but they were unfazed by his situation. It was just like the CFNM scenes he had masturbated to so many times before. He was worried that he might become aroused at an inappropriate time and embarrass himself.

Dr. Oberherr instructed Peter on how to use the ScrotumScrubber 2.0: it was voice activated, so he just needed to say “Hey Scrubber” and give it a command to start cleaning his genitals.

Peter took a deep breath and followed the instructions, saying, “Hey Scrubber.”

A cool, female voice replied, “Hello, Peter. What can I do for you?”

“Wash my g… genitals.”

“Certainly, Peter.”

The ScrotumScrubber 2.0 sprang to life, sending gentle sprays of water over Peter’s delicate regions. At first, they were little more than mists, barely grazing his dangling scrotum and softly wetting his penis, barely perceptible. Thenwater jets sputtered briefly before steadying into a rhythmic dance, targeting the man’s scrotum, perineum, and penis with unerring precision.

Dr. Oberherr explained, “You will now begin to feel sensations in your male reproductive organs. They may seem unfamiliar, but they should not be unpleasant. It is important to stay calm and let the machine do its work.”

Adjusting to the machine’s embrace, he could not ignore the various intensity levels, the device cycling through patterns and pressures meticulously designed for thorough cleansing. A soft mist caressed him gently at first, followed by a stronger surge that reached deeper, more intimate folds of skin. There were pulsations too, alternating patterns that mimicked the touch of a lover’s fingers, tapping into an instinctual reservoir of pleasure. It was mechanical, yes, but undeniably arousing, each new setting awakening sensations that straddled the line between necessity and indulgence.

As warm water continued to flow, Peter felt himself loosening up in the warm caress. Peter started to relax and let go of his initial self-consciousness and hesitation. It felt good being exposed and vulnerable in front of the women. Dr. Oberherr and Chloe looked on in silence.

Gradually increasing in strength, the spray felt like tiny ants with sugary jaws and prickly feet crawling over his scrotum. It tickled and inflamed, causing Peter’s member to swell and twitch with the beginnings of an erection. Chloe and Dr. Oberherr watched closely, noting Peter’s movements and reactions.

Chloe reported, “I think he’s puffing up a bit, Dr. Oberherr. It’s hard to be sure, though; his thing’s pretty small.”

He let out a deep sigh of pleasure as the water grew stronger, gently pushing and swaying his testicles. The pleasurable prickle, and the angle of the spray changed slightly, directly stimulating the base of his penis shaft. As his penis stood forth with partial erection, it exposed even more sensitive areas to the stream, receiving more stimulation, and more erect. Peter couldn’t help but moan involuntarily with pleasure.

Dr. Oberherr observed to Chloe, “the device is now targeting his penis and producing sexual arousal. He will begin soon to thrust I think.”

As she predicted, Peter couldn’t resist the urge to move his hips in a lewd response to the stimulation, causing him to flush with embarrassment and quickly apologize. “Sexual arousal is normal. Just relax and let go,” Dr. Oberherr calmly encouraged. “Don’t hold back, simulation of copulation is a natural response. Move your body to maximize the stimulation.”

“The rectal probe shows prostate tension at 60%.”

“Monitor the sensory feedback,” Dr. Oberherr commanded through the intercom, her voice devoid of any tremor that might betray human frailty.

“Responses within expected parameters,” replied Chloe, toggling switches with a deft touch. “No signs of imminent ejaculation.”

With gentle reassurance from Chloe, Peter thrust harder, moaned in pleasure, looking forward as he approached orgasm.

“The rectal probe shows prostate tension at 90%. Thrust harder, Peter.”

Peter began thrusting with wild enthusiasm, but just as he was about to reach climax, the device’s AI governor stepped in, halting the stimulation and leaving Peter craving release and groaning in frustration. But then the spray resumed its devilish stimulation. As the session went on, cycle after cycle, Peter found himself engulfed in a haze of pleasure and frustration. The ScrotumScrubber 2.0 was relentless in its stimulation, but always stopping just short of giving him release. He was growing increasingly desperate for release, his body aching and begging for it.

Dr. Oberherr and Chloe watched with interest, taking notes and discussing their observations in detached tones. “Notice the dilation of his pupils,” Dr. Oberherr commented, her tone analytical as she observed his thwarted pleasure. “And the involuntary muscle contractions. His urge to ejaculate is very intense.”

Chloe nodded, her gaze flickering between the readouts and Peter’s flushed face. Their conversation flowed around him, discussing thresholds and responses as if he were a specimen under a microscope, not a man consumed by unfulfilled need. Their clinical detachment was a stark contrast to his naked yearning. Peter squirmed, his body tensing and relaxing in an endless cycle of build-up and denial.

“See how his scrotum is tightening and testicles ascending? That means he’s close to orgasm again,” Chloe indicated to Dr. Oberherr.

“That’s right,” Dr. Oberherr replied, nodding her head thoughtfully. “The AI is montioring the date from the rectal probe and doing an excellent job of controlling his responses.” Peter, caught up in the intense sensation of the ScrotumScrubber 2.0, was barely aware of their conversation, lost in a world of pleasure and frustration.

As the sessions progressed, the ScrotumScrubber’s rhythms became a torturous pattern of almost-there moments. Each time, the AI learned, fine-tuning its approach with cold precision, drawing out his arousal to a finely edged point—only to leave him hanging, desperate for a release that wouldn’t come.

“You’re doing great, Peter,” Dr. Oberherr encouraged. “We are now ready for your finish. Command the ScrotumScrubber to allow you to ejaculate.”

Peter could hardly collect his wits to remember the command. “Hey… Hey… Scrubber…”

The female AI responded cooly, “Yes, Peter?”

“Please, let me … let me.. “

“Yes, Peter, what would you like to do? I’m afraid I don’t understand. Can you be more specific?”

“p.. p… plese let me … let me … c…c…c”

“Would you like to cum now Peter? Is that it? Would you like to ejaculate?”

“Yesssssss!”

“I will be glad help you with that, Peter. While I can not manipulate your member, I can intensify the spray on the underside of your penile shaft and focus it on the frenulum. I believe if you thrust your penis back and forth, simulating sexual intercourse, you will be able to ejaculate successfully. Would you like me to do that now?”

“Aaaarrrghhhhh! Yes! Yes! Yes”!”

“Very well. Please begin thrusting now, Peter.”

With permission granted, Peter let himself fully surrender to the intense sensations. His body moved frantically and desperately into the powerful spray of water, searching for the exact center of stimulation. It was unlike the familiar grip of his own hand, which mimicked that of a woman’s vagina. The water fell short of providing him with complete satisfaction, but he continued humping the tingling spray until the desperate motion of his his own thrusting triggered climax, and he ejaculated into the stream with a loud groan of immense relief. The ScrotumScrubber detected his emission and gradually brought the flow of water to a stop, after ensuring that his penis was thoroughly cleansed of semen. Chloe comforted him, repeating “That’s my good boy. That’s my good boy”.

Returning to his senses, Peter lay there, panting and flushed, the intense vulnerability after orgasm magnifying his embarrassment at the lewdness of his actions.

Dr. Oberherr, clipboard in hand, was pleased. “The test was successful in calibrating the full range of the ScrotumScrubber up to orgasm. Please attend to the subject’s aftercare, Chloe, and send him to my office.” She left.

Chloe gently unfastened the restraints. “So, how are we feeling?” Chloe’s voice was light, tinged with a playful curiosity as she helped him sit up on the edge of the bench.

Peter, still catching his breath, managed a sheepish smile. “It was… really embarrassing. But … enjoyable,” he admitted, his voice laced with a cocktail of embarrassment and satisfaction. “Are there more … tests like this?”

“Indeed, there are,” Chloe replied with a grin, her eyes dancing with mischief. “And I’ll be here to guide you through them.”

Once dressed, he returned to Dr. Oberherr’s office. “Mr. Strokier,” she began without preamble, her voice crisp and businesslike, “Your responses were quite informative, The ScrotumScrubber is now calibrated over the full orgasmic spectrum. However, our next phase is crucial—we need to test the orgasm-avoidance algorithm of ScrotumScrubber 2.0. It’s imperative that we ensure its accuracy and dependability.”

Peter swallowed hard, a knot forming in his stomach. “Orgasm avoidance?” he echoed, his voice unsteady.

“Correct,” Dr. Oberherr confirmed, her eyes never leaving his face. “You will be brought to the brink, but not allowed to climax. It requires discipline. Not every male can withstand it without injury. Are you willing to undertake it?”

A mix of excitement and trepidation churned inside Peter. The thought of being denied release sent a shiver down his spine, yet the challenge intrigued him.

“Good,” Dr. Oberherr said, noting his nod. “Our next session is scheduled for one week from today. And remember, for the integrity of the data, you must abstain from all forms of masturbation and ejaculation until then.”

Dr. Oberherr concluded, turning back to her papers as if he were already gone. Peter exited the office, his body acutely aware of the week-long torment of abstinence before the ecstasy of the machine once more.

Orgasm Avoidance Mode

Peter’s heart pounded with a blend of anticipation and nerves as he returned to see the ScrotumScrubber 2.0 awaiting him like an altar of both pleasure and torment. Chloe greeted him with her usual effervescent smile, her eyes scanning his form with a touch of professional appraisal.

“Ready for round two, Peter?” she asked. “Let’s get you strapped in, then!” guiding him onto the bench.

As the straps secured him into place, Peter felt his arousal surge at the exposure, his small penis jutting down between his spread legs — or perhaps because of — the clinical environment.

“Looks like someone’s excited to be back,” she teased, giving his member a little pinch as as she adjusted the machinery. Her words sent a flush of warmth across Peter’s cheeks, the humiliation strangely entwined with pride.

Dr. Oberherr entered and told him to initiate the washing protocol.

“Hey Scrubber!”

“Yes, Peter?” came the calm but now eerily arousing voice.

“Wash my genitals,” Peter instructed with confidence this time.

The machine whirred to life, and the familiar sensation of water jets pulsating against his sensitive skin filled him with a deep longing. His hips, only partly restrained by design, began to thrust instinctively, chasing the bliss that tantalized just out of reach.

“Rectal probe indicates 90% prostate tension,” Chloe announced clinically, though her eyes held a spark of empathy for his plight, knowing what was to come.

Dr. Oberherr spoke in a commanding tone: “Achtung! Scrubber! Activate Supervisor State”

“Ja, Herr Doktor. Supervisor State activated.” the machine answered smartly.

“Scrubber, set Orgasm Avoidance Mode”.

“Ja, Herr Doktor! Orgasm Avoidance Mode set!.” the machine confirmed. Did this impersonal AI seem to have a hint of eagerness in its response?

Peter’s breath caught in his chest, the cusp of orgasm drawing tantalizingly close, but the machine’s rhythm altered, the water sprays retreating just enough to deny him the peak he so desperately craved.

Peter’s world narrowed to the relentless dance of water jets against his fevered flesh, each pulse a promise unfulfilled. The ScrotumScrubber had become a cruel mistress, orchestrating waves of stimulation that skirted the precipice of pleasure only to retreat into the abyss of frustration. Peter writhed on the bench, his movements restricted by the straps that held him bound, his small but eager erection a testament to tantalizing torment.

Chloe called out the numbers from the rectal probe: “Prostate tension 80 %, 90%, 95%, 99%, Stimulus Interrupt! Prostate tension dropped to 50%. Tension rising again, 80%, 90% …” in cycle after cycle of frustrated arousal.

“Please,” he gasped, the word a broken whisper as the machine paused again, letting the throes of impending climax ebb away. Sweat glistened on his brow, his face contorted in a grimace of need. He pushed his hips forward, seeking contact that would tip him over the edge, but the ScrotumScrubber’s sensors were vigilant, and the AI merciless, denying even the slightest chance of accidental release. “Please, no more, I need to cum!”

From her station, Dr. Oberherr observed with clinical detachment. “Nein, Herr Stroker, Ejakulation ist hier verboten.” Dr. Oberherr stated firmly.”Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich stärker. You must learn to endure. This is for science. Continue.” Peter struggled, his body a battleground of unsatisfied desire and the cold, calculated needs of research. He was nothing more than a specimen under their watchful eyes—a specimen yearning for a conclusion that would not come.

At last,” Dr. Oberherr finally announced, the slightest nod indicating that she had seen enough. “The test is concluded.”

Chloe approached Peter. She offered a small, sympathetic smile—her warmth a stark contrast to the cold precision of the machinery around them. “Okay, Peter, we’re done now. I’ll let you up now,” she said gently, as if coaxing a wounded animal back to safety.

Peter’s response was a hollow stare, his body still pulsing with thwarted need. He remained prone, his small engorged penis a glaring testament to his failed release.

“Dr. Oberherr says we’re done here. No need for… well, you know,” Chloe added quietly, averting her gaze from his naked vulnerability.

But Peter, unable to accept the abrupt end to his torment, made one last desperate plea. In a voice cracked with need, he addressed the machine directly,

“Hey Scrubber!”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Scrubber, make me cum! Make me cum! Make me cum!”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The cool voice of the machine echoed in his ears, mocking him with its calm refusal — and perhaps just a trace of cruel enjoyment.

He groaned in defeat and frustration, all his tension collapsing into the straps of the washing bench. His mind reeling from the denial. Chloe reached out, her touch gentle on his arm as she finally released the restraints. “Time to get up, Peter,” she coaxed, pitying the struggle warring within him.

“Please, I need to finish, I need it bad,” Peter’s voice was a hoarse whisper, barely able to speak inteligibly.

Dr. Oberherr’s response was as cool and precise. “It is not necessary for our research parameters. We do not expend laboratory time and resources simply to indulge sensual gratification.”

“Dr. Oberherr, look at him,” Chloe interjected softly, but with conviction, her gaze not leaving Peter’s flushed face. “He’s suffering.”

The doctor regarded Peter with an analytical eye, then, after a brief pause that seemed an eternity to Peter, she gave a curt nod. “Proceed, but only to alleviate the subject’s distress.”

The ScrotumScrubber whirred back to life, but still in Orgasm Avoidance Mode, its sensors recalibrating to tease the edges of arousal without tipping over into climax. Restrained again, Peter’s hips bucked involuntarily, seeking a release that remained agonizingly out of reach.

“Shh, Peter,” Chloe soothed as she knelt beside him, slipping her hand beneath his trembling body. Her touch was soft, warm, a stark contrast to the machine’s impersonal caress.

She placed her curled fist at the tip of his throbbing penis. “Thrust, Peter. Thrust into my hand. Pretend it’s me. Pretend it’s my pussy you are fucking, just like a real man. Imagine you’re inside me, making me moan for you, making my pussy cum for you. In and out. Oh baby you fuck my pussy so good. Oh Peter, you fuck my pussy so deep. Cum for me Peter, Let go for me.”

Her words coaxed his fantasy to vivid life, and with each thrust he penetrated deep into her her hand, he envisioned her pussy receiving him, her praise encouraging his most primal instincts. His breaths came in sharp gasps, his manhood thrusting and throbbing in Chloe’s grip until, with a pitiful shudder, he spurted his virgin seed into her enveloping handpussy.

“Good boy, Peter. You fucked my hand so good. Just like a man. Just like a real man in a real pussy” she murmured, ‘ her tone laced with a tenderness that only deepened his sense of inadequacy. Dr. Oberherr exited, the sterile click of the door leaving them in solitude. Chloe remained. She wiped his brow, her presence a balm to his jumbled emotions as he grappled with the aftermath of his humiliation.

The New Contract

Later, dressed and seated once more in Dr. Oberherr’s immaculate office, Peter avoided meeting her steely gaze. Chloe stood by him, a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“Your… job performance has made a major contribution to our efforts,” Dr. Oberherr declared, remaining as impassive as ever. “It has allowed us to successfully conclude the ScrotumScrubber 2.0 project. While we no longer require your services on this project, I wish to discuss an ongoing opportunity.

“Partly based on our observation of your response to the ScrotumScrubber, we have identified an underserved market segment: chronic masturbators incapable of performing sexual intercourse. We are planning a line of AI-enabled masturbation devices to satisfy their special needs. Naturally we will need expert product testers.”

She slid a contract across the desk towards him. “I would like to offer you the position of User Experience Specialist. You will work with our product teams to develop and validate masturbation system concepts, and test prototype products.

“You will find the compensation quite generous. However I call your attention to conditions of employment. All of your masturbation must be performed in LowGiene Labs, under control and observation. You will be provided an apartment here for living, and your genitals will be fitted with a monitoring device to ensure compliance. Furthermore you must commit to remaining a virgin. Any sexual intercourse, even unsuccessful attempts at copulation, will terminate your employment. You must agree to remain, as the vulgar term, pussy-free for life.”

The contract lay on the desk, its stark black lettering spelling out conditions that felt both constraining and liberating. Forbidden from ever having sexual intercourse with a female. Masturbation only allowed under strict supervision in the laboratory. Impersonal, clinical terms implying a future of frustration, embarrassment, humiliation — and incalculable sexual gratification.

“Peter,” Chloe’s voice cut through his inner turmoil, her tone soothing yet firm. “Some guys just aren’t cut out for… you know, the real deal. You know, your performance issues, and size and all. But that’s totally okay. Pussy isn’t everything. You don’t need it. You’d be disappointed, really.” She leaned closer, her warm breath tickling his ear. “And I promise I’ll be here for you. Every step of the way.”

He could feel her hand resting reassuringly on his back, the same hand that had coaxed his climax moments before in an act of pity and tenderness. The thought sent a surge of gratitude and arousal through him.

“Come on, Peter, stay a virgin for me?” she cooed. “Be my special pussy-free boyfriend?”

Pussy-free masturbator sex for life under Chloe’s guidance—was it so terrible? No more stress and frustration seeking sex partners like other men, no more humiliating fuck failures. Acceptance, and constant masturbatory gratification.

“Think of it, Peter,” she continued, her voice a melodic whisper. “You’ll be at the forefront of masturbation technology. A pioneer. An autonaught. To boldly cum where no man has cum before.”

His heart pounded — was this surrendering to his fate or seizing an opportunity — or both?.

“Okay,” he breathed, the word barely audible —a confession, a surrender — he scrawled his name, sealing his commitment to a lifetime of clinical pleasure and limitless pussy-free chronic masturbation.

“Welcome to LowGiene, Mr. Stoker,” Dr. Oberherr intoned, her voice warm for the first time. “You’ve made the right choice.”

Chloe squealed, delight sparkling in her eyes. “It’s going to be amazing,” she assured him, hugging him close. LowGiene’s resident pussy-free masturbator.

~~~ end ~~~

 

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PeterFiles: The Scrotum Scrubber | by Richard Lovel | Copyright 2025 | All rights reserved

RL-2025-01-24