"Penis #23 is nearing ejaculation."
The first thing I remembered was the overwhelming scent of cum.
Everything smelled like a pair of boxers you've used to clean up after a few too many jerk off sessions.
Next was the moaning. So many masculine grunts and groans coming from all around me. I couldn't tell if they were sounds of pleasure or exhaustion.
My eyes quivered open and I immediately started to yell.
What the hell?
I was completely naked, strapped down to a table in some sort of massive warehouse. My hands were bound behind my head, the number #92 was scribbled under my left bicep, and a TV screen above was showing close-up footage of a penis ejaculating.
I looked around frantically and saw that I was surrounded by at least a hundred other naked men who were also tied to metal surfaces.
"Screaming doesn't help," came a friendly voice from my side. "Nobody can hear us in here."
I turned and saw a college-aged guy, just like me, casually laying there as some sort of clear tube moved up and down his erect dick.
"W--What?" I stammered. "What's happening?"
He was pretty athletic with a noticeable V-line, and a bit of light chest hair that matched his pubes and armpits. I couldn't stop staring as his ball sack gently drooped down onto the table with each stroke from the machine.
"Not sure," he said. "Been here for a month. They milk us five times a day. Guess they spared you the morning session. Too bad, it's the easiest one."
I looked down at my own flaccid cock, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious about my exposed body next to Nick's. I wasn't a muscled jock like him. I was a nerd -- pale, awkward, and lanky.
"So you're one of those skinny dudes with a big dick?" said Nick with a grin, as if he had read my mind and was trying to cheer me up. "Better than my last neighbor."
It was very weird having a casual conversation with someone who was essentially being jerked off in front of my eyes.
"What happened to him?" I asked.
