Her well-oiled hand hovered just out of reach of the subject's desperate, bobbing cock. She had been at this for almost two-hours now, slowly bringing it right to the edge of an explosive orgasm, only to let go. All in the name of science.
***
Since around the mid-1990s, the small community of scientists who studied this sort of thing had been confounded by the large spike in reports of erectile dysfunction, disinterest in sex, and other sexual disorders among young men. The received wisdom at the time was that men in their 20s and 30s had very low rates of sexual dysfunction, and that changes, to the extent they occurred at all, were highly unlikely to creep up before a man's late 40s. And yet, study after study seemed to confirm that this pattern was changing. Young, otherwise healthy men in their 20s and 30s, were increasingly reporting the types of difficulties that used to be almost the exclusive problems of men decades older.
Of course, there were no shortage of hypotheses. The noted increase had coincided to some extent with the ubiquity of free and easily accessible pornography on the internet, leading to much hand-wringing and often alarmist headlines in the back sections of major newspapers. From a scientific standpoint, though, there wasn't much support to back up that causal story, save for anecdotes. Another theory was that genetically modified food was pumping young men full of chemicals whose effects were little studied, and that one or more of these was causing the rise in sexual dysfunction. But again, while this theory made for good headlines and click-bait advertisements, it didn't have good grounding in science.
That's where the Institute came in. Their scientists—dedicated exclusively to the issue of sexual health and arousal—had a different theory. Studies had shown over the years that an obscure part of the brain worked almost as an "arousal cortex," and produced electric pulses that appeared to stimulate other parts of the brain known to interact with the sexual organs in men and women. Put simply, it appeared, though was far from proven, that this cortex registered arousing thoughts, images, or feelings, and signaled the rest of the brain to make the sex organs respond, for example by giving men an erection.
The Institute's work had already begun to demonstrate the importance of the arousal cortex in stimulating and maintaining arousal. They had also learned in some preliminary studies that, for individuals with sexual dysfunction, and particularly erectile dysfunction, that the signals from the arousal cortex were notably less distinct than in others. In other words, the connection between the arousal cortex and the rest of the brain was significantly weaker in subjects experiencing erectile dysfunction. Most troublingly, this appeared to be a progressive disorder, with the connection weakening more and more over time.
While the Institute's work hadn't yet pinpointed the cause of the weakened connection in the first place, their scientists were already working on methods to restore it. Pharmaceutical options were being explored that would boost the signal, a more direct approach than the current options, which worked largely to increase blood-flow, but didn't have the same arousal-boosting effects. But other scientists at the Institute, consistent with the desire for more natural interventions, were exploring natural ways to strengthen the connection between the arousal cortex and the rest of the brain.
***
The ad jumped out at John on the sidebar of his browser: "Seeking participants suffering from erectile dysfunction for non-drug research study." The ad promised a $250 payment for a day-long trial, but was otherwise vague. But John was immediately drawn to it. At only 26, he was consistently frustrated by his increasing inability to perform with women. He had no problem attracting women that he met, but too often, when it came time to jump into bed, he found himself unable to maintain his erection. The mental anxiety that went with that only exacerbated the problem.
John clicked the link and was directed to the Institute's website. He could tell they were a legitimate operation, and a little work on Google pulled back several published medical studies. So John put his information into the contact form, and went to sleep. He had nearly forgotten about the trial by the time the phone rang about two weeks later.
"Hello?" John asked.
"Hi, is this Mr. Stevenson?" responded the upbeat female voice on the other end of the line.
"Yes it is, may I ask who's calling?"
"Thank you, Mr. Stevenson. My name is Nora. I'm calling from the Institute. You filled out an online form for one of our new studies, and our initial screening has indicated you may be a good candidate.
"Are you still interested in participating in the study?"
John was caught a bit off-guard, but the mention of the Institute jogged his memory. "Yes, I'm still interested," John replied.
"Fantastic, Mr. Stevenson. Is there a good time to schedule you to come to one of our offices for some additional screening?"
***
The Institute's closest satellite office was only about 45 minutes from John's house, and he made the drive with more than a bit of trepidation. He didn't know what to expect, and still had no real detail about what the "study" actually entailed. He did know that this was just the "secondary screening," a term that was probably meant to put him at ease more than it actually did.
The building was utilitarian, and could have been mistaken for any other red brick, low-slung office complex with a handful of floors spread out over the cheap real estate on the outskirts of town. John entered through the double-doors, and found the lobby to be pleasantly inviting, at least compared to the outside of the building. Soft lighting framed leather sofas, magazines sat atop a handful of stylish coffee tables, coffee and tea were set up in the corner, and a large reception desk sat in the middle of it all.
"Hi, I'm John Stevenson. I have a 1 o'clock appointment?" John said as he approached the receptionist, his voice rising slightly, as though even he wasn't sure he still wanted to go through with this.
The receptionist—an attractive woman of maybe late 50s—punched a few keys on her computer, squinting slightly at the screen.
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Stevenson. It's you're lucky day; not too many appointments. My name is Shirley. You can follow me back and I'll get you settled in."
Shirley rose from her post at the reception desk and beckoned John through another set of double-doors. Behind them, John found what looked like a typical doctor's office. What appeared to be examination rooms framed the outside wall, while the middle of the long, wide room housed clean white cubicles with various computers, screens, printers, and other electronics.
Shirley guided John toward one of the rooms along the right-hand wall.
"You'll be in room 2, Mr. Stevenson, the technician will be in in just a minute to get you set up. Please have a seat in the chair over by the table."
The room was noticeably more comfortable than a typical doctor's examination room. Rather than a standard medical table, John noticed what looked like a fairly comfortable bed, neatly appointed with crisp, clean white sheets and a couple of fluffy pillows. A stuffed chair with leather upholstery sat in the corner opposite the bed, facing the center of the room. Unlike a typically examination room, which would have been packed with medical supplies and equipment, John could make out only one device that looked vaguely scientific. Extending from one side of the bed was an arm that held a display, and coming from the head and sides of the bed were several wires that connected to small white pads, like the ones John had seen used in lie detector tests.
