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Phenomenology

Chapter Text

Their next session was long in coming. Shortly after Medic finished compiling the data from the previous experiment, the team underwent another increase in operative activity which did away with all free time. Medic was kept too busy for anything except work, which was hardly as intellectually engaging as his recreational pursuits. By the time he met Scout again, Medic was not in the best of moods and more than eager to proceed with his schedule.

His temper improved slightly once the restraints were firmly in place and Scout began exhibiting signs of nervous anhelation. There was no need even for a stethoscope to ascertain this, as Scout’s reactions had been extensively documented during past sessions and Medic was familiar with the data. Scout was a predictable creature, consistently displaying acute tenseness and refusing to relax against the examination table. This was a fairly typical physical condition which marked the beginning of their sessions — as was his current shortness of breath. By the end he was never nearly so composed.

Usually Medic didn’t mind Scout’s anxiety, and even made a point of exacerbating it. Regrettably, this time it would have to be dispelled in order to implement his scheduled plans. He hefted the syringe.

Scout’s renewed struggles were still never entirely for show at this stage; today he put up enough of a fight that Medic had to hold him still with a gloved hand pressed hard to his bare chest. When this proved inefficient, Medic decided to integrate a psychological element from their previous session. He moved up and closed his fingers around Scout’s bare neck.

“Hnnghk—” Scout made a choked sound, struggling to wrench free for Medic’s grip. There were still faint markings from last time, not quite faded yet. Medic squeezed harder to watch the abrasions redden a little. Remarkable. He should conduct a follow-up study, if time allowed in the future.

“Today you are required to remain calm,” he said, and Scout made another cut-off sound, this time incredulous. “I vill demand constant supervision, so you must relax. Begin now.”

Another clenching of his fingers, for good measure, and Medic released him. No sense in causing pre-emptive damage, as it might unduly affect his findings.

Scout lay on the examination table, hoarsely sucking in air and trembling everywhere. Medic noted with acute interest that his fingers were twitching, perhaps a muscle-memory of the seizures from their last session. Definitely a case for a follow-up.

He bared Scout’s forearm — somewhat roughly, to still the shivers — and injecting the formula.

Medic could see Scout’s brows furrow in confusion, before his expression gradually melted into lax neutrality and his whole body began loosening. As much as he regretted the missed opportunity to re-calibrate the compounds of his aphrodisiac, this session called for a muscle relaxant. Medic had his own specialized variant on the standard analgesic which the chemist laboratories produced, as did any self-respecting man of medicine. His was notably more potent, which increased the harm in high dosages; however, Medic found the risk of inducing paralysis in his patients invigorating rather than something to be nervous about.

“Whu... hao...” Scout’s tongue was awkward and heavy, fumbling with the vowels. “What’rye doin’?”

“Simply ensuring zere vill be no disruptions,” Medic said briskly. “Today, ve are being most delicate.”

“Sonova...”

“Merely pragmatic.” Medic peered at Scout over the edge of his glasses, unsmiling. “I cannot risk any of your sudden movements, und today neizer can you.”

“Whas’t mean?”

“You shall see.”

Scout groaned, but weakly; already the muscles of his larynx were relaxed to the point which impeded loud noises. Medic generally approved of this development.

The Dittel sounds were long and straight, made of shining stainless steel. Medic unwrapped them from the sterilized packaging with utmost care. His own gloves had been thoroughly sterilized as well, since one could not be careful enough in this setting. Luckily the urinary tract in a healthy specimen like Scout was very likely clean already, and would need no initial preparation for what he had in mind.

Today’s experiment focused on artificially-induced loss of involuntary muscular control. Logic dictated he focus on those muscles charged with the most sensitive involuntary actions, the internal urethral sphincter being a natural choice. Medic looked forward to witnessing Scout’s reactions to the procedure; he had no doubt they would be quite novel.

Indeed, when he turned back to the examination table, Scout stared at the sound with half-lidded eyes, uncomprehending. His lips were parted, the jaw having trouble clenching or closing fully under the effects of the analgesic.

“Wh…” he tried, and Medic could see him stop to reconsider the use of complete sentences. He was likely experiencing gradual difficulty in forming words. “Cock r’ng?”

Medic favoured him with an appraising look. “Not today,” he said. “However, I vill keep your request in mind.”

Scout tried to shake his head, and could only manage a mild swaying motion. Instead, he settled for: “Fuck’r.”

“Hush.” Medic passed an antiseptic wipe over Scout’s flaccid penis, paying special attention to the tip. “You vill now hold perfectly still.”

The sound gleamed under the fluorescent as Medic took it in one hand, the other curled at the base of Scout’s cock. There was no reaction initially, but when Medic neared one to the other Scout’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Wh—” he started, slurring badly. Medic positioned Scout’s cock and touched the straight tip of the Dittel to his slit. “Hah — s-st—”

“Breathe in deep,” Medic commanded, and pressed carefully, carefully. The tip sunk in, just a fraction, and Scout sucked in a breath so fast that Medic could hear it like a rip in the air. He tried to wrench away reflexively, eyes wild, but all that happened was a faint tremor and his right wrist jerking spasmodically. Medic’s formulas were well-known for their efficiency.

“Exhale now,” Medic said, and waited. Scout breathed out, high and wavering. Medic used the opportunity to adjust his grip fingers on the sound again, and let gravity do the rest, drawing it into Scout’s urethra inch by inch.

“Ah,” Scout said, stretching it out: ahhh going on and on, rising as he inhaled shallowly and dropping in pitch as he exhaled, rough and needy, almost a whine. It took eight seconds for the sound to fully sink into the urethra, the metal disappearing down the slit with maddening slowness. Scout had his eyes tightly shut by the end, though his mouth was open and slack. Medic acted on a hunch and twisted the sound, just a fraction; Scout didn’t move but he choked on something suspiciously like a cry.

It had been wise, choosing the 8mm sound, though Medic had itched to try something with a wider circumference. He wished, abstractly, that he could monitor Scout’s breathing and heart rate, though it was impossible to do without letting go of the sound or moving his hand from the base of Scout’s penis, where it was keeping a steadying grip. It was not absolutely essential; best to focus on the subject at this time.

Scout was sweating profusely, some of it already staining the sheets of the examination table where his hips were pressed flat against the surface. His thigh, bicep, neck, and abdominal muscles were all trying to tense but couldn’t, immobilized as they were by the relaxant. The result was a curious effect which left Scout obviously winded, despite the lack of actual movement. Considering the restraints, he could do nothing but let the sensations affect him — something Medic was quite eager to see.

After a moment of letting Scout catch his breath, Medic spoke. “Ve are now at your external urethral sphincter, directly next to your prostate.” It was for his personal satisfaction than Scout’s sake; Medic had been looking forward to this part. “Remember, at all times remain calm.”

“Yeh,” Scout was about to say something else, probably derogatory, but Medic twitched his fingers slightly and Scout made a sound like he’d been punched in the solar plexus.

“Moth’fu—ahh...” he gasped, trailing off breathlessly, and when Medic repeated the action he almost writhed.

Intriguing. Medic could see Scout’s fingers, wanting to twist and snarl in the sheets but unable to move. He imagined his toes were similarly attempting to curl, to no effect. Scout began showing signs of arousal, among them flushed colour and the stiffening of his cock. A similar sensory reaction, albeit achieved from a different direction than was customary.

Scout was moaning soft and unsteady, sprawled loose-limbed on his back. Medic began stroking with careful precision, watching keenly. To the untrained eye Scout was completely pliant, but his skin felt feverish, even through Medic’s glove. His chest was rising up and down in what, without the analgesic formula, would likely have been genuine respiratory distress. It fit well with the way his cock was hard in Medic’s hand.

They had almost found a rhythm when Medic decided to proceed, and nudged the sound deeper in. Scout froze.

There was some faint resistance, naturally, but it gave way as the Dittel squeezed past the tight ring of muscle. “Inhale, exhale,” Medic reminded him, but Scout did neither; he stared at Medic with panic in his eyes, nostrils flared in alarm. The sound pressed past the external sphincter — responsible for voluntary actions — and when Medic let it push past the internal sphincter, Scout actually whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut and made a noise like a sob, the tip of his cock was swollen and leaking.

A model patient, Medic thought. Scout was now fully conscious, yet helpless in the most comprehensive sense of the word. He was incapable of moving any limb of his body, or even tensing a muscle; if Medic decided to test his gag reflex he couldn’t even close his mouth. Now, with the sound as deep as it would go, he was incapable of controlling his urination. Medic could keep him like this for minutes, hours — even after the relaxant wore off — watching the pressure build until Scout cracked under it. Even his involuntary actions were subject to regulation. He was completely under Medic’s control.

His objective was accomplished. Medic looked at Scout’s expression, open like a bleeding wound, and felt the keen satisfaction of a procedure undergone successfully.

As he withdrew the sound Scout began breathing again, raggedly, as soon as they retreated past the sphincters. Further out and the metal dragged against the prostate again, already sensitized. Scout’s breath hitched then, and the moment Medic removed the sound entirely, he gave a weak cry and ejaculated.

“Excellent,” Medic said, and set aside the sound. He undid the restraints and set about cleaning the work environment, even folding Scout’s clothes in a neat pile on a chair. There was much to be done in the aftermath of the experiment.

He was at his desk and well into the process of documenting his methods when the relaxant wore off sufficiently to allow movement. Scout dragged himself off the examination table and into his clothes, avoiding eye contact. He moved woodenly, fingers clumsy, starting to shake as they regained motor ability. Out of the corner of his eye, Medic clinically noted the long stretch of his neck, faintly bruised; the way he winced when pulling on his pants.

“Mind zat you wait an hour before urinating again,” Medic said, just as Scout was nearly out the door. “Und drink plenty of vater. Zere may be a faint burning sensation; it is to be expected.”

Scout turned to look at him then, and the look on his face surprised even Medic. The only word to describe it was furious. Then Scout went out and the door closed behind him, and Medic was left alone with his work.

He picked up his pen again and continued writing. Already, a part of his brain was planning the next experiment. Medic’s fingers itched at the thought: true science, after all, lay in the empirical research.