Dean was led into a small hall containing only a small table bearing a television surrounded by a dozen young men and women in white coats. He saw Moriarty, with her clipboard, standing in the centre of the group. The closing of the door alerted the entire room to his presence and all eyes turned to him as he walked across the hall. The small screen was showing him bound to the Perspex box, and he could hear Tiffany's strident voice barking orders and the sound of the cane on his flesh.
The audience who had been avidly observing his painful degradation lost interest in the image in favour of enjoying a sight of the captive whore in vibrant life. It was a testament to the training of the past four months that he approached an audience of young men and women wearing only his crimson costume with his hand cuffed behind his back without a tremor. Dean had been told by Moriarty to adopt a confident, almost arrogant, bearing when he met the medical students and researchers. He did not know that this initial pride was designed by Moriarty to highlight the intense humiliation that he would endure over the next hour.
He stood before his audience, staring at each face even though he could see that all of the women, and most of the men, were surveying his costume which was now inevitably beginning to stir from an erection. The assembled specialists all studied Dean with an air of authority. He was a convict whore, who was about to suffer severe cruelty on the torture table hidden behind the screen in the corner. Some even smiled, wondering if he knew the fate that awaited him.
Moriarty turned off the video from her Board visit to begin her description of the captive.
"This is the subject. A twenty two year old male with, as you will observe, unusually large genitals." The audience drew closer now, the women gathering in the front row. "His testicles are three times the normal size for a man of his age and, as we will witness later, this has a significant impact upon the quantity of semen discharge." Moriarty circled her captive and, as instructed, he watched her all the time when she was speaking. "The subject is a convicted criminal who volunteered for this project. However, while he is outside the confines of our Research Centre he must remain cuffed at all times unless he has an armed guard." The presence of the guard in the corner of the hall was finally noticed by everyone else in the hall as she came to the prisoner to remove his cuffs. Dean then stood in his pose of hands on hips with his legs wide apart, a stance designed to denote confidence, arrogance and vanity.
"You mean his testicles are not the result of a medical condition?" one of the men asked, moving closer to study his enlarged organ. He pressed the prisoner's left testicle. Dean managed to suppress a groan, but he could not avoid flinching from the pain. The medic took hold of the testicle and squeezed, provoking a growl of frustrated anger.
"That's right. The present size has been induced using chemical compounds specially developed to enhance semen flow."
"How often does the subject need to ejaculate?"
"The optimum time is about six hours. After that there is increasing discomfort, and he attempts to ejaculate through masturbation or penetration."
"Penetration? Does he engage in sexual intercourse in the Research Centre?"
"No, we have a special plastic box that he ... mounts. This serves as an artificial vagina that enables him to achieve full erection and, eventually, ejaculation."
"You have trained him to perform these acts? How did you 'persuade' him to masturbate in front of a group of complete strangers or to penetrate a plastic box?" The researcher glanced up at Dean, smiling as he contemplated the methods employed to secure his compliance.
"We have our methods, which I do not wish to discuss here."
Only the sound of the prisoner thrusting forward his genitals at the women in the room disturbed the uneasy silence.
"Now, it's time for the main event." Moriarty took hold of the crimson straps and let the costume fall to the ground. No one spoke, but the heartbeat of every woman and most men in the room rose at the sight of Dean's phallus free from the constraints of the pouch. He noticed their fascination and began to act his role, thrusting his hips forward as he stroked his shaft, moving his fingertips towards the moist tip before rubbing the shaft between the inside of his fingers.
"Now, everyone wants to have a good look at your body, so move closer."
Dean stepped forward two paces to stand within a few feet of the circle of white coats.
"I'm a whore, a slut. I love showing my fantastic body. Look at my magnificent cock. I'm a porn star whore, and I love pussy. I love fucking holes with my enormous cock." He crouched low, rubbing his hand across his lower stomach, as he explained how much he enjoyed anal violation. He thrust forward his erection, gazing at the women and issuing an invitation for a bout of fellatio, an offer that a few of the women appeared willing to consider.
"What's the male equivalent of a slut?" asked one of the men as Dean's chafing became ever more vigorous.
"I don't know, but we're looking at one now."