Ronan
#2 of Worms, Parasites, & Other Crawlies
A slightly improved version of my most popular story uploaded to FA. About 6k words.The old, inferior version of "Ronan" can be read on FA by following this link.
And yes. I'm struggling with formatting.
Ronan reminded himself on repeat that he'd agreed to this clinical trial because it paid well. He had to remind himself because he was restrained to a surgical table, naked aside from a hospital gown hiked up to his waist. Two doctors in lab coats and three assistants in scrubs surrounded him, one of whom who'd inserted an IV catheter into his arm and was taping it was in place. Had Ronan not scrutinized the consent form, he'd think he was in for vivisection.
Some parts of that consent form had been too vague for comfort. Ronan knew he was in for an uncomfortable time that involved needles and his testicles, but he'd never been told what he was being injected with. "A medication intended to increase male fertility" was what the form had said, but the medication hadn't been given a name. Ronan also didn't know what side effects to expect other than "pain at the injection site."
"All right," said a female doctor standing to Ronan's left.
Ronan's stomach flipped because he knew the doctor would prepare him for the injections. Though he knew what to expect, the knowledge didn't make him less nervous. It might have made him more nervous.
"We're going to apply a topical anesthetic and an antiseptic to your scrotum," the doctor said. "You'll feel some coldness."
Ronan nodded. He tried to shift his weight around in attempt to become more comfortable, but he was held immobile by straps at his wrists, forearms, ankles, and thighs. The assistants had told him it was to make sure he didn't jerk away once the needle was inserted. But why would he pull away when he'd agreed to the procedure? And trying to move with a needle skewering his balls sounded like a good way to lose something important.
The doctor applied a cold swab and he winced. Ronan's balls draw closer to his body, and to work with that, one of the assistants moved Ronan's cock up and out of the way. He closed his eyes and swallowed. There were five people staring at his balls. Two people should be enough for something as simple as an injection, right? And why did he need to be on a surgical table for this? These were questions he was too intimidated to ask.
The coldness was soon replaced by numbness. Ronan swallowed, but didn't open his eyes when the doctor spoke.
"I'm going to apply pressure to the desensitized area of your scrotum. Tell me when you feel it."
He heard a rustle of fabric that signaled the doctor's movement and gulped again. For several seconds, he felt nothing, and then he felt the pressure he was expecting.
"Now," he said.
"All right. We're going to begin the injections," she said.
"Injections plural?" Ronan asked. He'd assumed there would be a single injection, but he'd never asked for clarification.
"Yes. There will be one in each testicle."
Ronan nodded and swallowed again, but his throat was dry. He could handle two injections.
There was the sound of a vial clinking against the surgical tray to Ronan's left, where the lead doctor stood. Ronan's nervousness increased.
"You might feel a pinch," the doctor said.
"Pinch" was an understatement. Ronan at first felt pressure, but then there was a stab of pain in his left testicle. His eyes shot open and his legs jerked in automatic attempt to close.
Next there was the sensation of a cold, stinging substance entering his body, and he winced and cringed.
"The medication is suspended in a plant oil," the doctor explained, "so the injection will take several seconds. You're doing very well."
Ronan looked down the length of his body at her, then diverted his attention to the side. Aside from the jerk, he thought he was doing well. He was quiet and remained that way even when the doctor pulled out the needle. It seemed to catch and pull on his skin.
"Excellent," the doctor praised. She must have intended to be encouraging, but her monotone made it fall short. "We're halfway done." There was a short pause followed by the sound of glass on metal again. "I'm going to begin the second injection."
The second one was worse, as though knowing what to anticipate made Ronan more sensitive. He didn't flinch the way he had for the first injection, but he clenched his jaw and fists to withstand it.
"We're finished," the doctor said. "I'm going to swab you with antiseptic again while our assistants release your restraints."
Ronan stared at the ceiling while she swabbed his skin with antiseptic again and while the assistants freed him from the table. Once the doctor was done with his balls and all the restraints had been released, Ronan sat up and resisted the urge to look between his legs. It would freak him out if he saw bloody marks on his balls.
Several yards away from Ronan, the head doctor was whispering to the male doctor. The situation felt off, but Ronan couldn't summon the nerve to ask why the doctors felt the need to whisper about the patient they'd treated minutes ago and who was still in the room.
After several seconds, the doctors stopped speaking and both turned toward Ronan.
"We're admitting you as an inpatient," the male doctor said. "We'd like to monitor your condition over the coming days."
Ronan had known he'd be monitored for up to two weeks after treatment, but the consent form hadn't said he'd be an inpatient at the clinic.
"Is that normal?" Ronan asked while he fiddled with his hospital gown in attempt to cover his lower half. He glanced around the room at each assistant before he looked back at the doctors. "Is this dangerous?"
"Your life isn't under threat," the first doctor assured. "There have been side effects in animal test subjects that we don't think will affect human patients, but we'd like to monitor you to make sure."
That didn't comfort Ronan. His "life [wasn't] under threat"? So something of his was under threat, but whatever could potentially be harmed wouldn't kill him. Maybe he should have entered the trial more worried about his balls.
Ronan was given hospital gown long enough to allow him to have modesty and was escorted out of the procedure room, down one hall, and then another, and into a small room. There was a hospital bed to the right and a wall-mounted television to the left. Directly across from the entrance was another door, which Ronan assumed led into a bathroom.
"Please try to make yourself comfortable," the assistant who had escorted him said.
The assistant helped Ronan navigate his IV stand to the side of the hospital bed and climb between the sheets. Once he was as comfortable as he could manage, Ronan leaned back against the pillow, picked the television remote up off the table opposite his IV stand, and tried to make the best of the situation he'd gotten himself into. If he were going to be there for a while, he needed to get used to being bedridden.
If nothing else, the clinic had good food. Ronan ate a nice dinner and used the bathroom an hour later, after which an assistant removed his IV catheter because he was eating and drinking well. Why they thought he might not be, he didn't know.
The day following the procedure went well. The doctor who'd administered the injections came back in the morning, palpated Ronan's balls, and found nothing amiss. She told him he would be released in the next few hours, and Ronan breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't like that so many people had looked at his balls over the past 24 hours.
As promised, Ronan was released shortly. He was told to monitor the injection sites and to keep the wounds as clean and dry as possible. The clinic wanted him back in three days to check the status of the procedure, at which point he was required to give a semen sample for analysis. Before the procedure, he'd given several over the course of two weeks to establish a baseline. The new samples would test if the fertility drug was working.
Ronan often went a week without masturbating, but the fertility drug had an unanticipated side effect--a spike in libido. Abstaining for three days was painful. The first was all right, but on the second he found himself becoming aroused by random thoughts, and by the third he felt so pent up that he had to keep himself busy to keep his mind off of getting off. That was easier said than done, considering he had a hard time focusing on anything.
The afternoon of the third day, Ronan was back at the clinic, holed up in a private restroom with a porno magazine and a sample cup. He had been hard before the door shut and he didn't have to do more than look at the magazine's cover to feel ready to explode. Cock in hand, he bent over the toilet bowl, stroked his cock once, and came so hard it made his knees weak. He hardly had the concentration to bring the sample cup up to catch his cum, and found himself having to pull it away before it overflowed. It was like he hadn't come in years. He had to sit backward on the toilet seat afterward and catch his breath.
The assistant was bland when he returned the labeled sample cup. She told him to come back in another three days, and Ronan sighed and left the clinic feeling bothered. He'd just come, but already, he felt like he needed to get off again. It wasn't even a want--he _needed_it.
Regardless, Ronan resisted when he got home, made dinner, and went to sleep to keep his mind off the low throbbing that had started up in his balls.
Ronan woke to the most uncomfortable case of morning wood he'd ever had. He took a cold shower to try to relieve it, but the chill water on his hard cock did nothing for him. He left the shower as hard as he was when he'd entered it, put on a pair of briefs, got dressed for the day, tried to ignore his cock, and went to work. It was currently Monday, and at the end of Wednesday he was allowed to get off at the clinic. He had no idea how he was going to last until then.
Ronan was hard for three hours and each minute of those three hours was hell. At that point, he couldn't take it anymore, and sneaked out of his cubicle and into a private restroom. He sat backward on the toilet, phone in hand, scrolling through all the blowjob scenes he could find online while he stroked his cock.
He came harder than he had in the clinic. His vision shorted out for seconds that felt like minutes, and when he came back to himself, he was shaking and had to swallow saliva that had pooled in his mouth. His cock was still hard, though, and his balls ached for more, so he got off again. And again. And again. Each time he came, his cock spurted entire handfuls of thick cum.
After the fourth time, the throbbing in Ronan's cock eased and he sat, panting, while his hard-on diminished and he experienced relief for the first time that day. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this would throw off the study, but he also didn't care. If he had to, he'd tell the people at the facility that the fertility drug increased his libido to insane proportions that he was unable to ignore.
Ronan looked at his watch. It felt like he'd been getting off for hours and it had only been twenty minutes. At least his boss wouldn't be mad.
Ronan was at the clinic again. He'd masturbated several times a day, every day, even on the day he was supposed to visit the clinic. It was the only way he was able to keep his cock soft enough that he could go about life without having to trap his cock between the waistband of his pants and his stomach and worry if he needed to go to the hospital for an erection lasting longer than four hours.
Still, when he went into the clinic bathroom with the knowledge that he was expected to come, he was hard in an instant, and came until his cum overflowed the cup and, swearing, he had to pull it away. When he delivered the sealed cup to the counter, he had it wrapped in a paper towel and apologized to the assistant who took it with gloved hands.
She scrutinized the label. The ink listing his details had run due to Ronan's cum, and the assistant sighed, ripped off the label, grabbed a new label, attached it, and asked Ronan his first name, last name, and birth date, then wrote it down. The ease with which she handled an overfilled sample cup of someone's cum said something about how many people they'd tried this treatment on.
The next clinic visit was an appointment for the one-week review. Ronan sat in a small room, on an exam table, in nothing but a hospital gown and his socks. It took ten minutes for the doctor to come in--Ronan knew because he was fixated on a clock on the far wall--and when she did, Ronan tried to smile, but it fell short.
"How have you been doing?" she asked. "Have you been feeling normal?"
"Yes," Ronan said on reflex, but then he hesitated and looked to the side.
"If you're experiencing any unusual side effects, you should tell us immediately."
Ronan swallowed, glanced at the doctor, and then looked at the floor. "Since Monday, I've been..." Maybe he should use medical terms. Anything else might make the situation weird. "Painfully erect," he decided, "for hours unless I masturbate. And, when I do masturbate, I c--ejaculate for what feels like a solid minute, and every time it's more than a sample cup can hold."
The doctor nodded, sat at the computer desk to Ronan's right, and began to type. "You say you've been painfully erect. You've been masturbating on your own time, daily, since Monday?"
"Yeah," Ronan said. "Twice a day, really. Three times in a row on Monday," he lied. He was ashamed his libido was controlling his life.
The doctor turned to him, made eye contact--Ronan squirmed--and then turned back to her computer. "That's very interesting," she said. "The reason we ask you to abstain for about three days is so that your sperm count can return to average levels. Despite the fact that you've been masturbating so often starting Monday, your sperm count yesterday was double what it was on Monday. On Monday alone you had a twenty-percent increase in sperm count.
"The treatment seems to be working far better than anticipated, perhaps to a detrimental degree," the doctor said. "The next week should be better for you," she continued. "The drug lasts about a week potent in the system, and for the following week, you can expect the side effects to ease off. In a month, you'll be back to normal."
"So what do I have to do?" Ronan asked. Part of him was relieved that his horny hell was coming to a close, but another part of him was going to miss the most intense orgasms he'd ever had in his life.
"Come back in another three days, and after that, another three for follow-up. After that, you'll come in once a week for two weeks, at which point the study will end. If you continue to have symptoms, however, we want you to come back again for additional monitoring."
The doctor turned to face him and Ronan hesitated before asking, "Do I have to abstain from masturbating?"
"That's the ideal. As it is now, we don't know what your peak sperm count is. We do have other patients who have an easier time abstaining than you do, so I wouldn't worry about it too much. So, abstain if you can, but if you have a painful erection that you can't ease when you don't, then do what you need to do."
Ronan nodded and the doctor stood.
"I need to perform a brief physical examination." She snapped on a pair of gloves. Ronan was half-hard before she touched him and tried to maintain control while she palpated his testicles and abdomen.
"Please stand," she then instructed. "I'm going to perform a prostate exam. Bend over the exam table with your forearms flat against it and spread your feet shoulder-width."
Ronan assumed the instructed position and knew the exam would be uncomfortable.
Or, he thought he knew it would be uncomfortable. Ronan was still half-hard when she slid her index finger into him, and when she pressed against his prostate, pleasure jolted straight to his cock. He tried to resist a full erection, but he failed miserably and was oozing precum by the end of the five-second examination.
"Is it usual for stimulation like this to cause you to become erect?" the doctor asked while she stepped away, stripped off her examination gloves, and tossed them in the trash.
"N-no," Ronan said. He sat up and pressed the hospital gown over his lower half, but it wasn't enough to hide how hard he was. It might have made it more obvious; the precum beading at the head of his cock soaked through the paper and stained it.
"I see," she said. She leaned over her keyboard and typed. "So, come back in three days. If you currently have a problem with your erection, feel free to use the bathroom across the hall once you're dressed."
She gave Ronan a smile that fell a degree short of comforting and then exited the room.
Ronan did have a problem with his erection. He stripped off his hospital gown, threw it in the trash, dressed, and zipped out of the exam room and into the restroom. He didn't need porn to come, and he came for so long that it felt like he was urinating instead.
Ronan jerked off again when he got home, and, after dinner, again. His balls ached while he lie in bed awake and his cock stood tall. He soothed it by masturbating again, and then again, until he was exhausted and his brain shut down for sleep.
First thing in the morning, he got off again. Then he ate breakfast, and got off again. Then he got dressed for work, and got off again.
Once he got to work, he jerked off in the restroom and had to take a break every hour or so to do it again. He couldn't concentrate, and by the time lunch rolled around, his boss sent him home because he suspected he was sick. At home, Ronan got off two more times.
In one day, he'd gotten off over a dozen times, but still he felt starved for more. The doctor had told him that the treatment should be wearing off, but he seemed to ache more and more each day.
So he got off again that night, and fell asleep after another mind-numbing orgasm.
Ronan was back in the clinic at the scheduled time. He sat on the exam table, squirming. A new side effect had cropped up that morning. There was a tingling sensation in his balls--a slithering, writing sensation that kept him hard no matter how much he came. He'd delivered his semen sample before he'd gone into the examination room, but still he was hard.
The lead doctor came in, asked him how he was doing, and Ronan mentioned the new side effect and how often he'd been masturbating.
"That's..." The doctor looked down the length of Ronan's body, to his hard cock, and then made eye contact with him; Ronan squirmed. "How long have you been erect?"
"Since this morning," Ronan said. "There's nothing I can do about it. Nothing works anymore."
The doctor paused and typed on her computer. "I'm going to write you a prescription that should help you become flaccid. Pick up the slip at the front before you leave and fill it immediately. Take it tonight, and if it doesn't work, call back immediately. The staff will give you my after-hours number to call if you need to."
Ronan shifted on the exam table. His gown rubbed against his cockhead. It was enough to make him ooze precum. "This sounds...really serious," he said. "Is this dangerous? Should I--"
"This isn't a side effect we anticipated," she said, "but there's nothing to be worried about as long as the prescription works. If it doesn't, you'll need to go to the emergency room."
Ronan made a sound of understanding in his throat and watched the doctor pull on gloves.
His cock throbbed throughout the examination. The doctor palpated his testicles and his cock leaped, and when he lie supine on the examination table and she palpated his abdomen, he came. Her hand stilled on his stomach while his cock spurted cum across himself, up to his chest on the gown. By the end of it, he was panting.
"I'm--sorry," he managed to say while the doctor backed off and pulled off her gloves. "I didn't--I really--"
"I know you didn't intend to," she said. She tossed the gloves in the trash and took more notes on her computer. "Remember to fill that prescription immediately."
Ronan filled the prescription immediately. It took the pharmacy a half hour to fill it and he took two pills as the instructions said before he got into his car. Within 45 minutes, his erection ebbed, and within an hour, he was--finally--soft for the first time in what felt like eons. His libido raged, but the medication prevented him from getting hard and it kept his cock from aching.
The medication lasted about six hours. Ronan woke past midnight hard as steel, popped two more pills, and then spent the next hour masturbating until the medication kicked in and he couldn't stay hard anymore.
He slept a while longer, woke up at a reasonable hour, and stood in front of his stove, cooking and squirming. The new side effect in his balls seemed worse. The sensation was distinctly squirming--crawling, almost. It made him want to scratch his balls, but he'd already done that until they were red and it hadn't helped.
"Fuck," Ronan said in his bathroom later.
He stripped to take his morning shower and looked in the mirror. He was compelled to examine his cock and balls, so he gathered them in hand and set the whole package on the countertop.
Were his balls bigger? Ronan had been more aware of them than normal due to the squirming feeling, but it seemed like he hadn't been imagining the size increase. The skin around them was stretched tighter than usual, and he could see the round shapes of his balls distinctly under the surface despite the fact they were cold. His cock, too, looked bigger, like he was half-hard, though Ronan was sure he wasn't. He'd taken the pills with his breakfast.
Ronan gulped and pressed his fingertips to one of his balls. He jerked his hand back.
"What the fuck?" he panted. He started to hyperventilate and pressed his fingertips to his balls again.
The squirming sensation wasn't just a sensation. Not only could he feel it in his balls, but when he pressed his fingers to them, he felt the sensation on his fingertips. It seemed like something in his balls really was squirming--shivering, slithering, and shifting inside of him.
Ronan wrapped his hand around the base of his sack and stretched it until it was painful and the skin around his balls was as tight as it could be. He wasn't imagining the sensation on his fingers, either. It wasn't some hallucination. If he focused hard enough, he could see the squirming.
Ronan dropped his balls and tried to breathe. He was seeing things, right? He was imagining the visible squirming. The sensation was making him see things that weren't real.
But he should call the clinic. He should make an appointment about this.
And fuck, was he horny. Despite the weirdness of the situation, he was as horny as ever, but his cock stayed too soft for him to get off.
Ronan was in the clinic later that day. He'd taken two pills of his prescription before he'd gone in so he could face the doctor without an erection for the first time in the last week, but though he was soft when he walked in, he wasn't less nervous.
"I'm having a really weird side effect," he said before the doctor shut the door behind her.
She paused and leaned over the chair in front of the computer. "What is it?" she asked while she began to click around.
Ronan explained what had happened to him that morning, and the doctor was silent for a few long seconds before she walked over to him and began a wordless physical examination.
"Well?" he asked at the end of it. Ronan was shaking. Her behavior was stiff and she'd taken her hand off his balls during the procedure only to put it back.
"Stop taking what I prescribed you," she said.
"I'll be hard all day," he said. "Maybe--I can stand it at night, or something, when I have nothing to do, but otherwise, I--"
"I'll write you a note to get you out of work," she said. "Masturbate as much as you need to. I assume your libido hasn't waned?"
"Maybe a little, but--"
"I want you to masturbate, understand? I don't care if you spend the entire day on it. I'm putting in a system note for you. They'll give you several sample cups up front and my note before you leave the clinic. Please collect a semen sample every hour, and label the sample container with the time."
Ronan didn't understand. He scrunched his brow. "You _want_me to masturbate all day? Is that...unhealthy in some way?"
"No," she said. She stood and pushed her chair in. "Get dressed and see the front desk. Remember to stop the prescription. Make an appointment up front for the day after tomorrow. That day, you can start the prescription again."
Ronan's brow remained pinched, but he agreed to the doctor's orders, got dressed, and headed up front.
The pills wore off by the time he got home. He was hard when he sat on his living room couch, turned on the television, and took his cock out of his pants. He navigated to a random porn website and started to masturbate with a sample cup at the ready by his side.
As usual, when Ronan came, it was more than the cup could handle. He caught the overflow in a fistful of tissues, and once he'd come down from the high, he put himself back together, got a sharpie, and labeled his cup with the time. As per the given instructions, he put the sample cup in the refrigerator and wondered if it would keep and if it was weird to store cups of semen.
Ronan held out for another hour before he got off again, collected his cum in a cup, labeled it, and put it in the fridge. His cum seemed to get thicker each time he came. He wondered what that signaled, but tried to focus on the fact that he had another appointment soon and would hopefully be freed from his hell by then.
So Ronan got off again and collected the sample. His cum was even thicker, and the next time he came and gathered the sample, his cum had a visible change in texture. He rubbed the excess between his fingers. Was it gritty? No. It was more like there were tiny, invisible beads mixed in with his cum. They depressed under his fingers before they regained shape. Try as he might, he couldn't isolate a ball to examine it.
Were the beads the drug working its way out of his system? Ronan wasn't sure what to make of it. The squirming in his balls had intensified over the course of the day, which was a side effect the doctor hadn't explained to him. He'd be fine, though, right? It seemed bizarre that she'd prescribed masturbation as the cure to what was ailing him, but who was he to argue when he had his body's cooperation with the demand?
The next time Ronan came was two hours later. He was trying to hold out as long as he could stand because he'd been given 15 sample cups, which sure as hell wouldn't last him two days if he got off as often as both his body and the doctor wanted him to.
His cum was the consistency of jelly and the slithering inside his balls seemed to work its way through and out of his cock when he came. Ronan rubbed some of his cum between his fingertips again. The invisible beads were present, but they didn't regain their shape when Ronan took pressure off of them. That, he assumed, was good. Maybe the drug was thinning.
Ronan's cum remained the same consistency the next time he came, but by the middle of the next day--the day before his next appointment at the trial clinic--something had changed about it. The slithering inside his cock when he came was almost an itch, and in his balls it was so intense that he scratched the skin raw in some places.
"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself while he sat on the side of his bed. His cock was hard, but the desire to masturbate was...Ronan wasn't sure.
Ronan pressed his cock against his stomach with one hand and took his balls into his other one.
He jolted at once. The squirming in his balls was now unmistakably a sensation not isolated to the inside of his balls. He could feel the squirming in the palm of his hand, worse than it had been the last time he'd scrutinized his balls. The sensation made his skin crawl and his stomach flip.
But then, the situation made his cock harder, and he found himself bent in half, sample cup in one hand, panting like a dog while he jacked off with the cup positioned by his cockhead. He came, shaking, in ten seconds flat and nearly missed the sample cup.
"What the--"
Ronan stared into the sample cup, which overflowed and dripped his cum onto the wood floor beneath it. His vision was hazy from panting, but he was certain he wasn't hallucinating, though he wanted to be. God, did Ronan want what he was seeing to be a hallucination.
Inside the cup, mixed in with his gelatinous cum, were hair-thin, millimeter-long yellow filaments that, if he squinted, he could see writhing.
Ronan almost dropped the cup. Or, Ronan would have dropped the cup if he weren't frozen. His cum teemed with--what were they? Amoebae? Were they--oh, God--were they worms? What the fuck had he let the doctors at the facility inject him with? Were the filaments an intended part of the injection, or were they hitchhikers? Ronan wasn't sure if either of those things were comforting.
Ronan somehow put the lid on the sample cup and put it on his bedside table. He then, somehow, and as if on autopilot, managed to wipe his cum off the floor and scrub it with disinfectant in hopes that it would kill any trace of the--the worms. Impossibly, he then managed to clean the sample cup and put it in his refrigerator by the other cups.
He was fine, right? He was fine. The doctors were going to take care of whatever the fuck the squirming in his balls was. Right? They'd treat Ronan free of charge for any damages, but--but what would this do to him long-term? His sperm count was high, so the filaments weren't destroying his balls, right? Oh, God. What if they were? What if they were slowly eating him?
Ronan didn't know why, and he hated himself for it, but his thoughts shifted gear and he started to wonder if the writhing filaments were enhancing his balls. It would explain his high sperm count and libido, right? And his balls were larger, without a doubt, to the point that they now sometimes interfered with his movement.
And the thought made him horny. The thought that the filaments inside him were making his balls bigger and making his cum thicker and stronger got him iron hard and he found himself, again, masturbating into a cup, and marveling at the squirming creatures in the jelly that was now his cum.
And then, he thought, did he _want_to lose the effects the things were having on him?
Ronan threw away his sample cups and called in the day before his appointment to tell the staff that his side effects had edged off. A nurse tried her damnedest to convince Ronan to come in, but he wouldn't budge and ended up hanging up on the woman.
Then he jacked off again and came on his hand. The yellow filaments tingled where they squirmed across his skin, and he touched them with his free hand. They were larger than they were the last time he'd gotten off. They were now three times their original thickness. Ronan gulped and groped his balls with his free hand to feel the squirming against his palm, so he could know for sure that the sensation was the filaments.
The next time he jacked off several hours later, the filaments had graduated into true worms. They were twice as thick and long as they had been the last time. They twisted inside his cock when he came, as though they were desperate to escape.
It had at first been nauseating, but now every twist of the worms inside him made his cock throb and kept it in a constant state of erection. Even when he wasn't actively masturbating, he oozed precum that bore the filament-sized worms--the young, he imagined--which he occasionally collected on his fingertip to spread their tingling over his balls and the length of his cock. The large ones came out with his cumshots, and those, too, he took to gathering and sitting on his balls.
Before he knew it, it was midnight and he was reclining on his couch, balls resting on top of his thighs, crotch covered with worms of all sizes slithering and squirming through gooey cum. And Ronan was panting with delight. The squirming on and inside him was enough to make him come every few minutes until he'd exhausted his supply and the only thing that emerged from his cockhead were worms.
It was good. Sinfully good. So good that Ronan couldn't think about anything else other than the pleasure and how it was a damn shame that he was the only person in the world who was experiencing it.
But did he have to be the only person in the world? The worms seemed to squirm more aggressively, as if telling him that, no--no he didn't. Ronan cracked a smile. He had to spread this joy with as many people as humanly possible.