(A Sci-Fi Story taking place in the distant Future)
When I woke up this morning, I glanced at the calendar. The day was January 1, 2069, my birthday. I am now 24 years old. When we celebrated New Year's Eve last night, I joked that this was a good year to practice the classic 69 sexual positions. The Kama Sutra, one of my favorite books after Portnoy's Complaint, describes the 69 sex position when two people simultaneously practice oral sex. The name derives from the position: one person is upright and the other is reversed. I was hoping to try this out with my girlfriend Claudia, who has up till now refused to mouth my penis for more than a few seconds.
Unfortunately, I did not expect to be participating in any sexual activity in the near future, if at all. At that moment, I was being transported to the Microsurgery Clinic at UCLA.
The back story is simple. I was on my way to meet my girlfriend and was excited at the prospect of having sex with her. I rushed out of my apartment and jumped into my Twitterpod self-driving vehicle. Twitterpod was the result of a lawsuit in which Elon Musk lost control of his Tesla Auto Company and had to cede control to Twitter who promptly changed the car's name to the above.
The vehicle had asked me repeatedly, in its whining female voice, to bring it in for its yearly checkup. I imagine the self-driving car had gotten pissed and intended to teach me a lesson. The lightweight carbon auto sped up to 100 miles per hour and then stopped short. No, I wasn't wearing my seat belt, even though the car had told me repeatedly to buckle up. I was also pleasuring myself, another error.
I went flying through the window head first, breaking a jagged hole in the windshield and the sharp shards sliced off a good piece of my midsection. Yep, Mr. Penis was not a survivor. Goodbye Dickey bird...
I woke up in the middle of a surgery. A young Asian Intern asked me,
"What is your name?"
"Allen Wanker, I think?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yep, I guess? That's what Mom told me."
"Do you want a dick replacement?"
"Waaa...what are you talking about?"
"You don't?"
"No, wait. Tell me about it."
"No time to talk. It's now or never. Yes or no?"
"Ok, ok, I want it, and then the anesthesia kicked in and I was out like a light."
I didn't know what I was asking for. It turned out that the University of Tokyo had invented a synthetic penis designed for implantation containing a small micro-computer that allowed it to be integrated into the recipient's nervous system.
The computer program was designed in Japan, but the prosthetic was constructed in South Korea. The marvelous electro-mechanized penis was a compact four and a half inches in soft plastic but could expand and inflate to greater length when required. Before it would awake from tumescence, it was about as round and sleek as a full-sized Hebrew National Hot Dog. The surgeons miraculously integrated the electronic prosthesis with the nerve endings that were once attached to my missing penis.
When I awoke, the surgeon tested the functions and said all was well. He explained to me that the new electro/mechanical/organic penis could function as if it was a normal organ. I could urinate and the AI Penis could also produce the pleasures of intercourse, and it could even auto-masturbate.
For a person who had lost his penis the day before, those possibilities were encouraging. I was soon to learn that the little sucker had a mind of its own. It could speak ten different languages, on audio and he could recite poetry, sing K-2 songs, and voice rap obscenities. They set my dick for English but I figured some woman might find the Italian version more romantic. I suppose those linguistic attributes were useful for a world traveler, but I was more interested in the actual function during sex.
Stimulus sensors built into the unit could recognize the complex sex hormones in my blood supply and alert the penis' computer when an attractive sex partner passed into view. This phenomenon was the first sign that the penis was truly integrated into my brain and nervous center, but it took some getting used to.
Before being released from the hospital, I was told that my bandages would be removed on the 8th day and that I needed 15 days to heal. On my return visit, I would be examined by a team of specialists, and then a nurse well versed in AI Penis technology would tune up the appliance. She would give me a complete run-through, from A to Pee, and then final testing. For now, I was to abstain from any sexual activity and told to observe Dicky boy's activity until my return.
I had already mastered peeing through AI. It came naturally. The stream was quite strong and if I wasn't careful and didn't hold firm to the shaft, I'd spray the wall and the toilet seat. Even the roll of toilet paper seemed to get in the way until I got the mechanical marvel under control.
I followed the hospital's pamphlets' advice and gave my 'cockeroni,' (my little dick) a hygienic wash up after every trip to the toilet. An occasional quick stop for urgency in the small hall sink was necessary. I knew if I didn't act immediately, I'd end up peeing my jeans and underwear before I could unzip.
During the two-week healing period, the AI Penis seemed to have a life of its own. At first, it did not discriminate by gender. It would raise up its head like the king of the jungle and start its cat call to both female and gay targets alike. Being unschooled in gay sex, I assumed I'd have to adjust the program to avoid encouraging gay partners who seem to keep one eye on the size of your swelled package, much like heterosexuals have one eye on a lady's tits and ass.
Although I had never found gay men attractive, all of a sudden I was realizing that some were very attractive. While shopping for a new pair of shoes, I was so taken with the young salesperson, I was ready to ask him out on a date. When he handed me my new shoes, his hands lingered close to my swollen projectile as I paid the bill. He asked,
"Wasn't there something you had in mind?"
"Yes, but it was rather embarrassing. Oh, well, uh, I'll be back next week. Thank you for the excellent service." I'd chickened out.
"This wasn't the service I had in mind," he said and smiled coyly.
I noticed he was sporting a good-sized erection and was about to reach out and touch his swollen cock. I got out of there before my weenie boy erupted. I was confused, to say the least.
The AI Instruction Manual noted that bi-sexual interests were normal for heterosexual AI Penis implants and stated these newly formed interests could be deleted or reprogrammed when the monthly internet tune-up took place. I thought I'd request the tech on my visit to delete the gay portion of the program, but now I was considering bisexuality as a possible alternative lifestyle. I wasn't sure if my ass could take on an invader, but I was certain the Dickey bird was ready to fly.
The technical manual explained in detail, with schematic illustrations, that the left 'artificial ball,' I believe the preferred word was 'testicle,' housed a mini-computer whose awesome abilities were beyond laptops of the past decades and approached the gigabytes of a supercomputer. The other one of my balls contained an artificial sperm reservoir. 'Refilling' was to be covered in my first 'tune-up' visit.
I soon realized that the AI Penis had its own preferences. When a big-assed woman passed by, a woman I might not have found attractive before my surgery, the sensor tied to my blood hormone level would go wild, pumping up AI under my trousers, making my swollen AI Penis visible. Most women found my exhibition offensive, but some took the swelling of my artificial manhood as a compliment. One older gal I met in an elevator invited me to stop by her Penthouse apartment "to look at her etchings," whatever that invitation implied. Since the doctors had warned me not to experiment, I passed up her warm-handed invitation.
FIRST POST-OP SEXUAL ENCOUNTER -- THE TRAINING NURSE
Finally, 15 days had passed. I returned to the hospital for my first checkup. The receptionist informed me that the visit was two-pronged. Several specialists accompanied by a group of interns would examine me. One over-exuberant female Intern, fascinated by my new 'toy,' was so excited that she could not stop touching AI who began to enlarge. The almond eyed beauty, realizing my excited state, asked if I could cum for her.
"Where?" I asked.
She put her hands together and said, "Here. Do it here."
"I'm sorry, but at this moment I'd rather not."
Had the attractive intern visited me in private, I'm sure I could have cum all over her big tits. Her short shorts were so tight I was concerned she was doing internal damage to her 'mother-gland,' but I said nothing.
After that exam hour passed, I was handled so much that I felt like a used teapot. Once the first examinations were over I was told to take a break and get a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria. I was to return for a full private 'workout' with a nurse surrogate trainer.
The hospital was like a maze. I finally found the cafeteria and I waited in line to order a turkey club sandwich and a soft drink. I admit lunch was good for a hospital, especially the crispy bacon.
When I returned to the assigned nurse's station, I saw my surrogate standing at the appointment desk. She was about five foot four, with blond hair that I suspected was a wig, two nice breasts jutting out of her blue smock, and a curvy ass; when she finally turned to me, she introduced herself as 'Nurse Ratched.'
"Oh, you are kidding? Is that your real name?"
