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You continue to sit in the waiting room, feeling nervous as hell while you wait for your name to be called. To your surprise, in the last half-hour you've been here, no one else has been in or out. You are used to long wait times, but why are you waiting now? Still, you have no room to complain. Not with what this interview promised you.

Down on your luck after an incident at your former job you'd rather not recall, you were jobless with only your meager savings to get you by. Due to the nature of your termination, you did not qualify for employment insurance or any other form of financial compensation. Therefore, when the opportunity arose for a one-month paid research position, you jumped at the chance.

At last, a young man holding a clipboard exits the inner door and regards your presence. "Mr. ______?" He asks, as though it wasn't obvious whom he was looking for.

"Geoff is fine," you reply, trying to keep your composure. You want to make a good impression, even though you were already guaranteed for the position as far as you understood.

The experiment you'd signed up for required you to stay in total isolation for its duration. A month in a single isolated room, unable to leave, attended only by the staff on the premises. The solution you were supposed to be injected with was a potential vaccine for a dangerous pathogen. Though the risk was minimal for you, there was no telling how it might impact the outside world, hence your isolation.

You honestly weren't sure why you'd been chosen for this particular project. Despite being male, between 25 and 35, and having no preexisting conditions, there wasn't anything that made you special. The intake process had been rather specific, however. They asked questions about your personal life, how often you talked to family, spent time with friends, etc. You would have been concerned, thinking it was a scam for black market organs or the like. But when you read the description of the job, it started making sense why a recluse like you was preferable. Someone like you with few ties with the outside world was exactly what the experiment required.

The man motions for you to follow him into a back room, and you do so, a little reluctantly. It all seemed official enough, even the lack of other participants. No one else would join you in isolation, after all. You would be safe participating in this experiment, right?

You are brought into a back room and given some papers to sign, the standard confidentiality agreements for this sort of endeavor. You can't make heads or tails of most of it, but you are encouraged by the legal terminology. Surely, any organization with this much paperwork had to be on the up and up, right?

After a few moments of careful inspection and seeing nothing amiss, you sign the paper in the designated spots, handing it back to the man with a slight smile. He nods, placing it in a folder before asking you to follow him.

You are then taken into another room, a doctor's office, by the looks of things. Left alone to wait, you nervously take in your surroundings. Nothing looks out of place. A biohazard container, an adjustable bed, drawers lined with needles and stethoscopes, and a variety of other medical equipment. Yet one thing does catch your attention. Instead of the regular anatomy chats lining the walls, this room has diagrams of animal anatomy. Dogs, horses, pigs, rats. They are detailed diagrams, seemingly more at home at a veterinarian's office than a hospital for humans. Still, the sight doesn't concern you too much as you examine them in detail with nothing else to do.

Before too long, a man dressed in a white coat enters the room, reading your chart before washing his hands and donning gloves. He briefly explains the procedure, telling you that a series of injections is required before you are transferred to your home away from home. You reluctantly oblige, never a fan of needles but understanding of the necessity. Much to your chagrin, you see several sharp tips lined up for your flesh, and you close your eyes, not wanting to view the process. The doctor simply replies in a warm voice that though the process will sting a little it will be over relatively soon.

You feel the prick of the needle entering you as you reflexively look down, trying not to go white as the clear fluid enters your body. A brief reprieve is given before the next in the series is injected. Some are given intramuscularly, more painful than the ones injected intravenously. Your muscles ache, but the process is relatively short, as the doctor promised. Soon he is placing the last of the safeguarded needles into a biohazard bin and gleefully informs you the procedure is over.

You smile back at him when suddenly you begin to feel sleepy, your eyelids growing heavy. Noticing this, the doctor simply tells you the injection series can be rather strenuous on the body and recommends that you lie down for a few moments and close your eyes if need be. You nod your head in agreement and close your eyes, feeling the fatigue catching up as you lightly drift off.

You wake up sometime afterward, lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room. You shake your head a few times, trying to remember how you had gotten here. Surely you hadn't been taken here while asleep. You were a bit of a larger guy, and it seemed very unlikely you could be relocated without your knowledge. Still, you find it difficult to recall the steps you took to get to this particular location. Your mind is foggy, but becoming more alert from fear with the possibility something more insidious was to occur.

The room isn't too fancy, but after a look around, you find you are satisfied with the decor. A TV with your game consoles and games sits at one end, as per your request during the intake. No computer was provided; though it pained you, part of the process was total isolation for the duration, not just personal but in social media as well. Still, you had prepared for that reality. A basic fridge and stove are present along another wall, with a door where you assume is a toilet and shower, the only privacy you are to be granted.

Yet one thing in the room does strike you as odd. There are a series of cages along one wall, each in a variety of sizes though uniform in shape. They resemble pet cages, and you assume the largest is for a larger breed of dog while the smallest might comfortably fit a hamster or gerbil. Was that part of the experiment, to see how animals handled the vaccine before human trials? You find yourself hoping they had been properly disinfected before you arrived here.

Just then, the sound of a door opening draws your attention, and two men enter, donned with masks, gloves, and lab coats. You are a little confused, but soon remember it is part of the procedure. Though the risk of cross-contamination is low, it is recommended that all proper precautions be taken. You had been told all this in great detail when you were hired. You breathe a sigh of relief. Why are you so jumpy?

"Ahh, Mr...Geoff, sorry. Just checking in. Need some blood work. Are you settling in alright?"

You smile back, clearing your head of the intrusive thoughts. You weren't brought here against your will. In your fatigue and nervousness, you simply couldn't remember coming here, that was all. These people have no intention to hurt you. Aside from the daily blood draws, of course, but you are prepared for that.

The men make pleasant small talk with you, introducing themselves as Eddie and Travis. You want to ask more specifics about the treatment but you are too nervous to do so. Instead, you discuss the weather, the current state of affairs, and anything else they think of to quicken the process.

Their specimen is taken with little fanfare, but at least they are quick and efficient. You are given a few instructions, things you'd heard already. Don't try to leave, don't try to communicate with the outside world. Nothing you aren't prepared for. With another friendly smile, both men leave. You are thankful for their kindness and pleasant demeanor. You didn't think you'd want to do this if your caregivers were nasty to you!

You decide to exercise first after admiring the new-looking treadmill. You hadn't really kept up a good exercise regimen with your depression and a formerly busy job, so you figure this is a good time to get back in shape. There isn't much on the TV, so you leave it muted, simply a distraction in the background. Yet after about ten minutes or so, you find yourself out of breath and cursing your previous lack of discipline. Hopefully, that will change over the coming days if you kept up a regular regiment.

After a quick shower, you decide to game, appreciating that your request for your gaming consoles had been honored. You aren't sure how you'd manage without some familiar entertainment, and you have quite the backlog to easily keep you entertained for the entire duration of your isolation!

Lunch as a mixture of nuts, fruits, and bread that you find in the fridge and cupboards. There isn't any meat, but you figure you might be brought something later on. You would kill for a pizza, but sadly you are likely on a specialized diet and couldn't receive such luxuries. You wonder if you could inquire about it later, perhaps.

The afternoon leaves you feeling a little bored. You'd gamed for several hours but are feeling restless. Yet you don't want to run on the treadmill again, either. All afternoon you'd been feeling a little irritated like your skin was crawling under your clothes. Even scratching yourself doesn't alleviate the annoying sensations. Perhaps it is the atmosphere of the habitat, or perhaps, it is your clothes that are irritating you. You make a note to ask about that as well.

Soon the men from before are back to take another sample of blood. They listen to your requests and queries and promise to send them on to the higher-ups. You thank them for their diligence as they prepare their equipment to take another sample.

"Coming along good," says Eddie, and you find yourself wondering what that means. Surely, they don't have test results so soon? You trace his gaze down towards your crotch, but you must be mistaken. There is no way he would be so unprofessional to check you out. You must be imagining things.

Though some time passes between their last visit, you still receive no reprieve from the irritation plaguing your skin. After a while, the itching seems to center in your groin, and shamelessly you begin scratching yourself with fervor, desperate to remove the annoying prickling. Yet as you do so, you feel your cock spur to life from just your brief touch. A few more scratches are all it takes to make you realize you are indeed horny. What is causing you to become so aroused? You must just be pent up, you reason. It has been a long time since you've felt relaxed enough to masturbate, after all.

A passing thought has you feeling nervous about tending to your needs when all your activities are on camera. You decide to head into the bathroom, its closed space the only privacy available. Remembering that your attendants are not supposed to return today, you slip inside, hoping not to look too suspicious on camera. But then again, isn't this a normal thing for you to do, especially in captivity as you are?

Taking off your pants reveals a penis that is a little...larger than you remember. Maybe you are far more pent up than you thought? You run your hand over your engorged member, and all at once, a shiver of pleasure flows through you. Never has touching yourself given you so much joy! You want to masturbate aggressively, but you force yourself to only take short, careful strokes. It has been a while, you realize, and you want to savor the experience.

As you touch yourself, you feel something soft playing under your fingers, especially around the base of your member. It's a bizarre sensation, out of place on your untended crotch. Instead of the coarse, wiery mess you see every morning in the shower, these hairs are soft, covering every inch of your groin. The sight should alarm you, yet they serve only in amplifying your pleasure ten-fold as you play with them.

You don't think of it too much as you continue to carefully tease your bulbous testicles, heading up to your perineal region while your other hand keeps its steady pace up and down your member. You crave the tactile sensation of the lovely hairs, wondering how you hadn't noticed them before. If you had, you'd be touching yourself every night to experience this level of ecstasy!

Seeking every iota of pleasure you can before your end nears, your hand reaches to cup your ball sack and fondle the testes within. To your surprise, or perhaps wonder, your testicles are not the same size as the ones you brought in this morning. You are certain they had never contained such low-hanging fruit. You worry for a moment that you've contracted some kind of cancer, some unnatural growth in your testes that is causing you illness. Perhaps it is a side effect of the injection you've received?

Yet even with your panic, the sensations emanating from your crotch threaten to overwhelm you. You can't tear your hands away, neither from your monster ball sack or your needy cock. In fact, your hand is moving up and down your pole with more purpose. You know that your end is near and that you need to relieve the painfully full orbs between your fingers. And each touch of your girthy flesh only serves to amplify your anticipation of the oncoming release!

Before you have time to comprehend what is happening, your balls are bunching up, and your orgasm overwhelms your entire being. You yell out as your cock shoots several powerful spurts of seed into your hand, spilling over onto the floor, the toilet, and even coating the walls. Your cock spasms several more times before it seems your balls are truly empty. Every touch drains a little more seed, and you can't stop until you are left huffing and panting from such a powerful release.

Finally coming down from the post-orgasmic bliss, you realize what it is you've done. You've made quite a mess all over your temporary bathroom. You have no idea how you've produced so much seed, but it is EVERYWHERE. Embarrassed, you do your best with the limited cleaning products at your disposal to rid the room of your release. Yet the more you clean, the more locations you find remnants of your drying spunk. It is almost impossible to fully eliminate the smells of cum that linger in the air. Eventually, you give up, thankful that no one is likely to use this restroom and discover your shame. You take a quick shower once more, trying to make it look like you've taken a long bath, the only other non-embarrassing explanation for your lengthy absence.

You fall asleep after that, the events of the day and the strange self-pleasuring experience leaving you oddly fatigued. You had worried that trying to sleep in such a new place would be next to impossible, but before you realize it, you are passed out. Yet your dreams that night are oddly vivid. Images of your past masturbatory experiences are at the forefront of your thoughts. The more you touch yourself in your dreams, the more your once modest-sized testicles grow, to the size of softballs, of oranges, and even beyond that! The image of your male virility is a powerful aphrodisiac, and you force yourself to orgasm multiple times. Yet the more you cum, the more your balls seem to swell with their seed, and the greater the need to empty them grows.

You wake up in the morning in a cold sweat. You realize that your balls are coated with sticky drying cum, the remnants of more than one wet dream from the feeling of it. How have you been so horny? Stranger still is that your member and your balls don't quite seem satisfied. In fact, your swelling orbs seem even more full of seed than the night before. The mere sight of their engorged state beckons you to the bathroom to empty them once more.

You decide to go for a run right away before your morning bathroom ritual. You hope the exercise will work out any excess energy that would otherwise be redirected to your genitals. You start out slowly on the treadmill, the light walk making you feel invigorated, energized. Soon you find it is not enough, and you set the machine to go faster, working up to a steady jog. Yet still, you don't seem to break a sweat. Unlike yesterday, after five minutes, you are not fatigued.

Turning up the machine as far as you think you can handle, you are forced into a brisk run. You run faster and faster, enjoying the energy your legs seem to grant you. You haven't run this fast or this long since your teenage years, and the sensations are exhilarating!

Yet soon you notice that something is slapping against your legs, and you are forced to slow down, irritated by how much it seems to hinder your run. Yet even at a slower rate, it continues smacking uncomfortably at your legs and preventing you from fully expanding your energy. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that your testicles were the source of the discomfort.

Finally, you stop, needing to relieve your irritation and wondering how the hell your balls have grown so massive in such a short amount of time. You know you should go into the bathroom to examine them but you can't. You seem rooted to the spot in a moment of indecision. You need to see yourself and see it right now, damned camera or no.

You aren't fully prepared for the sight that awaits you. Pulling off your shorts, you are greeted to a flaccid penis the size of your member while fully erect. It still looks normal, at least in shape, even if the size isn't what you are used to. But at the moment, that isn't what draws your attention. The sight of your massive ball sack makes you shiver in anticipation. It is easily twice the size of its former equivalent. Once more, you are reminded of images of cancer or parasitic infection, the only possible cause for your testes to expand in such a manner. Yet you feel none of the discomfort that you would expect from such a disease. Instead, they are painfully full, like you have been pent up for weeks, your balls blue with the need to cum.

The sight of your massive testicles brings your cock to full erection. Despite yourself, the sweaty male hormones wafting off your body only serve to amplify your lusts, and before you notice, your hand is once again encircling your erection. The feeling is a little off, as though it is not the same cock that you had pleasured just last evening. But you soon get used to its girth and work yourself into a comfortable rhythm as your balls slap against your legs in tandem.

The scent of your musky odor only serves to accentuate your lust, and you start stroking faster, eager to empty the pent up needs in your balls. Once more, your other hand plays over the soft hairs covering your ballsack, and you moan from the wonderful tactile sensations. Your hand traces upwards towards a wide pucker that seems further up your backside than you remember. Feeling a little exploratory, you slide one finger in, hissing from the added stimulation. A second one soon follows, and all at once, the sensations overload your sensibilities.

You come quickly, spraying your load all over the treadmill and your hand. Like unfurling a kink in a firehose the force of your spray covers an even greater distance than last night, even hitting your bed. You pant a little, fatigued from such a powerful orgasm. Yet your balls don't feel empty, not entirely. It would not take much to bring you to erection once again, though you aren't sure how a thing could be possible.

It is only then you realize what you have done. Not only have you just shot the biggest load of your life, but you also did it while on film! Your cheeks flush with the shame of committing such a personal act on camera. Surely, every doctor and researcher saw what you had done, had it recorded to view at their leisure. And you had no control over yourself as you did so! What is wrong with you?

Ashamed of yourself, you hurriedly pick up your clothes and run to the bathroom, wanting to cover your shame. You have a cold shower, trying to eliminate any traces of lust that still reside in your mind. It works, for a time, and the ache in your balls diminishes as they slide up inside you for protection from the cold. You leave the shower, uncomfortable from the cold water, but at least thankful that your boner is shriveled for the time being. You sit on your bed, shivering yet unwilling to warm yourself lest your erection grows once more.

Eventually, the same two men from the other day arrive with their supplies, and you feel the swelling of shame overwhelm you once more. Surely, they saw what was on the footage. Maybe they hadn't? You decide to play it cool, although you are still clad only in a towel. Besides, maybe it's totally socially acceptable for someone in your situation, you think. You have little else to do in isolation, but touch yourself!

Both men approach, smiling at you with a friendly greeting. Yet your return smile fades when you realize they are staring at your towel, more specifically your bulge underneath. To your utter shame, you realize your cock has gotten hard, your testicles swelling until it is impossible to mistake the lump as anything but lust!

"!...Umm..." You try to sputter, but the words don't quite come out. You can't believe this is happening. Only the second day into your quarantine and this is your reaction to any company? What is wrong with you?!

Yet the men don't seem to mind. They approach you with renewed vigor, as though the mere sight of you is enticing them. Eddie reaches down towards you, and you want to cower, but something keeps you in place.

"You're coming along very nicely, Geoff," he says as his nimble fingers tear off your towel to expose your massive fur-covered balls. You are unable to prevent them from seeing your changed genitalia in full view. As if in response, your mammoth testes shoot a bit of pre to your cock tip, which itself has become much more flared.

You know this is wrong, that you can't like this. Yet you are frozen in place as Eddie's hands trace over your cock tip, making you shiver in anticipation. His soft hands play up and down your cock, causing more pre to leak down your shaft and coat your furry balls. You can feel the steady itching that proceeds the growth of more fine fur, thickening over your balls and spreading around your groin and even in between your legs.

"Just relax, Geoff," Travis says as he rubs around the rim of your tight pucker. You shiver and moan from the alien perceptions in your most private of places. But as the tingling begins to increase and your fuck hole grows wider, you start to crave the sensations and the pleasure they elicit to your prostate.

Something starts aching from your tailbone, and you instinctively reach back to rub the sore spot. There is something there, something poking out the skin that spasms the more you touch it. It isn't very long, and the flesh feels like your own skin texture, yet it is far more sensitive. You rub its entire surface, not caring about what it is or why it is growing.

As you do, you can feel it twitching, the individual bones of your coccyx starting to move under the skin, as though rearranging. They spread out slightly, moving out to meet the confines of your growth. As soon as they reach its tip, the length of the growth starts to expand against the soft flesh. You can feel this new growth pressing out of your skin, uncomfortable yet not painful.

As soon as he notices, Travis reaches down to message this second bulge. It starts out gentle at first, but as he continues to work over the flesh, his nimble fingers find themselves rubbing the space where the flesh meets the base of your spine and back. It feels better than you could have ever imagined. You moan, leaning back to invite both men to play over your genitals and backside with no hesitation.

The previous fears you harbored of letting two strangers do this to you, two men no less, starts to wane as your entire body begins to rock back and forth in pleasure. Despite never having done such a thing with you, both men seem incredibly aware of all your sweet spots. Their teasing fingers rub your furry balls, your tight pucker, and best of all, your cock in a rhythm that makes you shudder. A finger teases its way into your asshole and slowly slides in and out in time with the ministrations on your penis. A warmth of flesh pools at the base of your member and a stray finger finds its way in there as well. And most of all is the lovely consistent touch to your tailbone that makes you writhe in pleasure.

You are getting so close to emptying those massive balls now hanging from your crotch. You would have cum already had you not felt a little shy from the presence of these men to witness your naked form. But now, without your normal inhibitions, you are free to let the waves of pleasure wash over you. You relish the buildup of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you at any moment. The feelings of giving in to another, to trust your pleasure to them are almost divine. Your fate is entirely in their hands, and you are thankful they are hands so skilled!

"Just let it go, Geoff. Let it all out. Be a good boy for us and cum," whispers Eddie in a husky voice.

,

That is all the encouragement you can stand. You cry out as your cock starts to shake uncontrollably, and your spasming balls unload your cum like a volcano. You jerk and writhe in pleasure as more jism than you have ever produced spills from your taut member and hits your chest, face, and even the men's face masks. More and more of your pent up seed is ejected violently, and the level of ecstasy you experience is nearly indescribable in human terms. You white-out as your body continues to eject its load, lost in a sea of comfort that no sexual experience has ever provided you.

Travis eventually pulls out his equipment and takes a blood sample, while Eddie collects some of your still-drying cum. They wash you off with warm towels as you lie there in post-orgasmic bliss. You are barely aware as they get up and gather their equipment.

"This will do nicely. Well done Geoff! Get some rest. Let us know when you're full next time, bud. We're more than happy to help," says Eddie with a knowing wink. You open your eyes, the bulges in their own pants not escaping your notice.

With that, the two men leave you dazed and confused. You lie there that second night, the itching from your balls and the pain from the back of your spine keeping you awake. Part of you is sexually satisfied in a way you could never have dreamed of. Yet another is shocked, embarrassed at the behavior. You can't fathom letting anyone, let alone a pair of male strangers touch you in such a manner. But you had. And what is worse, you enjoyed it beyond any experience you had prepared for.

What is happening to you? What kind of experiment was this, to make your balls swell with seed, far more massive than any human? To make that thing poke out of your spine, twitching against your will? You find yourself wanting to exit the experiment, but knowing the legal document you'd signed was binding.

But there is another reason, one you can't quite shake no matter how much you desire to. Despite the fear and the disgust and the shame you felt. You know, instinctively deep down, that tomorrow when the men come to take your blood and fondle your balls, you will welcome it. You'll have no choice but to allow them free reign over your body if it meant once more experiencing even a sliver of pleasure that you'd already felt today.