Hard Coded
Chapter 2
Sound? Returning.
Sight? Blocked.
Taste? Overwhelmed.
Smell? That might have been the worst. The rest he could deal with on his own, but the smell? The smell would linger. It was working its way into the bed sheets as he sat there, and if Jayden didn't make a move soon it would be worked into the carpets forever. A constant reminder...
His arms felt heavy, like his bones had been infused with Tungsten. It took all of Jayden's meagre effort to raise his arm up and clear the gunk from his eyes. It felt disgusting, like it had congealed somehow. It was definitely cold now, which was his first clue as to how much time had passed. His next hint came from the light, which was streaming in through his window. That only happened in the late hours of the morning when it could slip through the gaps of the buildings opposite before going too high to get into his room properly. Weirdly though, the light wasn't nearly as bright as it normally was.
Ah, the blinds. He'd gotten the blinds as well. Plastered as they were to the window, shadows were being cast over his defiled room as pools of his gloopy, viscous semen clumped onto them and stuck them to the glass behind. As sullied as they were however, it did not stop Jayden from taking in the devastation he had wrought upon his room. The once deep blue carpet was covered in dark patches, with long streaks and wide patches of white clinging to the fibres in gelatinous puddles.
His bed was ruined. Never mind the sheets, the whole mattress would need replacing. He could feel the dampness as he shifted his weight, clotted goo that had suffused the fabric everywhere he wasn't lying at the time. With a backwards glance, Jayden could clearly make out the outline of where he had just been lying moments ago by the distinct lack of cum stains.
He felt like crying. There was no way his brain could adequately contemplate the ordeal his whole body had just been through, and nor could he explain why it had happened in the first place. He'd never cum like that before. Jayden knew he was average at best, but there was no way he could begin to understand how he had somehow turned into a Super Soaker and doused down his entire room with his jizz.
But nor could he deny the evidence of his own eyes, and despite the anxiety that was welling up inside of him, he simply could not deny how unbelievably hot he found it. Maybe that made it worse, the idea that somewhere inside of him was a part that didn't hate what he'd just done and, given the chance, would probably do it again.
-- -- --
An hour later Jayden dumped himself into his desk chair, his entire supply of toilet paper utterly sodden and filling up two and half black bin liners. His window was completely smeared, his bed sheets were beyond saving, and no amount of scrubbing could clear his walls of the numerous damp patches splotching it. Jayden flipped his mattress over, and though this side was dry, it still squelched under his weight. He'd reasoned that wearing socks would be better than ending up with jizz-soaked feet, but in the end it made little difference, the carpet sucking at his heels with every step.
By the time he had rushed himself through a power shower and wrapped himself in whatever clothing had managed to escape the splash zone, Jayden was sprinting down the streets back towards university. He had completely forgotten about his lectures until he'd stepped into his lounge looking for something halfway presentable to wear and he'd caught sight of his portfolio laying halfway across his doorway.
He'd managed to snag an old washed out hoodie and a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms from his laundry basket that were undoubtedly overdue for a clean. Unfortunately that could now be said for every other item of clothing he owned, his only blessing was that in such a plain outfit he managed to sneak into the auditorium his lecture was taking place in without attracting too much attention, despite being nearly twenty minutes late.
As he settled himself as inconspicuously as he could behind his desk, Jayden realised just which lecture he'd actually showed up for: Art History. The lecture so dull that even the professor giving it cared very little whether the students were late, or whether they showed up at all. Unfortunately for Jayden, he was still being marked on the essays they were being set, and he could hardly spare the marks at this point.
He sat in the back and pulled out his laptop, intending to either take some very rudimentary notes on what was undoubtedly a very tedious powerpoint, or at least get some figure studies done. The minutes passed agonisingly, slowly turning into hours. No matter what he tried Jayden couldn't pull his mind away from the carnage he had awoken too this morning. The vague flashes of blinding pleasure that he could recall from his earliest moments of consciousness that day interrupted every note, distracted him from each sketch and pulled on every ounce of his concentration.
Despite himself, Jayden felt the tension
stirring
in his groin.