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m_d_hSo, what, two seconds after I registered the writing on the door, the infrareds light flicked off.
Fuck!
FUCK!!
I mean, I was actually yelling, "FUCK!!"
Those infrareds were so cool, and then they were gone, and I was back into the darknesses. And now I know the comprehensive numerity of darknesses. I mean, numerosity. There are multiplicities of darkness that I didn't understand before.
Now so fucking dark, fuck.
-----
No, I'm not afraid, I'm angry. So, OK, I do feel emotion. If I'm an android, I have an emotion chip. Or maybe I'm just a cyborg. Or it's just my friggin' eyes.
Fuck this. OK, what am I going to do.
"Hey, this isn't fun anymore, let me out!"
...
"Hello!"
....
"Fuck,"
OK, breathe, calm down, this isn't helping. I need to pee, and I'm hungry. Fuck.
OK, I can pee in this goddess damned bucket. It's not far away, this is a tiny ass room. OK, bucket, I touch my cock like men do when we pee, we have to hold our cocks, it's all about the aim, right, not about the touching, about the aim. But I'm also touching my cock.
And I don't remember touching my cock before. And it feels good. Touching my cock. As I'm peeing into this plastic bucket in the corner.
Can I touch my cock some more? Yum. I'm done peeing but I'm not done touching my cock. This feels good. Fuck these people for IMPRISONING ME and possibly stealing my memories, but I can touch my fucking cock.
Mmm. I think it might feel better if, I, yeah spit on my cock. Yeah. Feels good, and my cock is growing, it's growing bigger, and hardening, so ... accessing ... my encyclopaedic knowledge-without-memory ... yeah, I'm masturbating, I'm getting an erection, and it feels fucking good,
I lay back down on the mattress, playing with my saliva-lubed cock,
"Hey, Marco,"
WTF?
"Marco,"
I'm hearing a voice from the ceiling. A male voice, heavy, deep, natural not amplified, like he's looking down at me from the ceiling.
"Marco, stop masturbating."
WTF?
I'd just discovered this great sensation, touching my cock, spitting on my cock, it was driving me crazy,
"Marco, stop masturbating!"
"Fuck you!"
And then a sharp electric pain in my testicles, OK, I have testicles, like every other male, but OUCH, and I'm doubling over, falling off the mattress, five inches down to the concrete floor, rolling over, OUCH, OUCH,
Of course I've stopped masturbating, I'm in fucking pain!
"Good boy," he said.
"Boy, you were doing well until you started playing with your cock," he said.
"Who the fuck are you, and why am I here?" came harsh words writhing from my writhing body, although the pain was subsiding.
"Are you afraid, yet?" he asked.
And then the door opened. Both visible and infrareds, first an outline of the door, then opening wider, and reflecting off surfaces around me, reflecting off my naked body,
"Hi, Marco. I'm Tate. I'm here to help you."
Fuck!
FUCK!!
I mean, I was actually yelling, "FUCK!!"
Those infrareds were so cool, and then they were gone, and I was back into the darknesses. And now I know the comprehensive numerity of darknesses. I mean, numerosity. There are multiplicities of darkness that I didn't understand before.
Now so fucking dark, fuck.
-----
No, I'm not afraid, I'm angry. So, OK, I do feel emotion. If I'm an android, I have an emotion chip. Or maybe I'm just a cyborg. Or it's just my friggin' eyes.
Fuck this. OK, what am I going to do.
"Hey, this isn't fun anymore, let me out!"
...
"Hello!"
....
"Fuck,"
OK, breathe, calm down, this isn't helping. I need to pee, and I'm hungry. Fuck.
OK, I can pee in this goddess damned bucket. It's not far away, this is a tiny ass room. OK, bucket, I touch my cock like men do when we pee, we have to hold our cocks, it's all about the aim, right, not about the touching, about the aim. But I'm also touching my cock.
And I don't remember touching my cock before. And it feels good. Touching my cock. As I'm peeing into this plastic bucket in the corner.
Can I touch my cock some more? Yum. I'm done peeing but I'm not done touching my cock. This feels good. Fuck these people for IMPRISONING ME and possibly stealing my memories, but I can touch my fucking cock.
Mmm. I think it might feel better if, I, yeah spit on my cock. Yeah. Feels good, and my cock is growing, it's growing bigger, and hardening, so ... accessing ... my encyclopaedic knowledge-without-memory ... yeah, I'm masturbating, I'm getting an erection, and it feels fucking good,
I lay back down on the mattress, playing with my saliva-lubed cock,
"Hey, Marco,"
WTF?
"Marco,"
I'm hearing a voice from the ceiling. A male voice, heavy, deep, natural not amplified, like he's looking down at me from the ceiling.
"Marco, stop masturbating."
WTF?
I'd just discovered this great sensation, touching my cock, spitting on my cock, it was driving me crazy,
"Marco, stop masturbating!"
"Fuck you!"
And then a sharp electric pain in my testicles, OK, I have testicles, like every other male, but OUCH, and I'm doubling over, falling off the mattress, five inches down to the concrete floor, rolling over, OUCH, OUCH,
Of course I've stopped masturbating, I'm in fucking pain!
"Good boy," he said.
"Boy, you were doing well until you started playing with your cock," he said.
"Who the fuck are you, and why am I here?" came harsh words writhing from my writhing body, although the pain was subsiding.
"Are you afraid, yet?" he asked.
And then the door opened. Both visible and infrareds, first an outline of the door, then opening wider, and reflecting off surfaces around me, reflecting off my naked body,
"Hi, Marco. I'm Tate. I'm here to help you."