Schlongue Part Twenty

We proceed down a long hallway with office windows on each side, full of white coated office workers. Everybody in the offices are standing at the windows, watching the procession. A few women raise their hand to their mouth as if in shock as I walk by. I get the distinct impression that every body here knows what is going on, except me of course.

Our parade stops outside an operatory with stirrups on the table. The room is surrounded by windows. My wife hands the strap attached to my ring to a white coat, who hands it to someone standing inside the doors of the operatory. The person tugs on the leash and I follow her into the scrub room.

A masked person points at my cock ring and tells one of the scrub clad nurses to remove the ring, “then to sterilize his penis and testicles.” Not a good choice of words there, fella!

“He has no hair other than the bit that seems to be a pattern there, so you won’t need to shave him. You can leave that pattern in place.” My wife’s work emblazoned on my pubic hair will not be spoiled. She will be so happy to hear that!

The nurse scrubs my cock, balls, and asshole area until my skin is completely removed. I writhe in agony as she finally decides that I am clean enough.

God! She even scrubbed my scabs on my foreskin off!

She points into the operatory.

The masked man points to the table and says, “On your back, please.”

I climb up on the table.

“Feet in the stirrups.”

I place my feet in the stirrups. I realize that my cock, balls, and asshole are completely exposed to everyone watching from the hallway. The window provides no privacy to me at all. Everybody is gawking at the spectacle. People from all of the offices have gathered around behind my wife and the white coats. I see someone focusing a video camera on my privates. The TV monitor blinks on, and there I am in all my skinless glory.

“Where are the chips installed?” my wife asks through the speaker system.

The masked man points with a scalpel at the area between my balls and cock. “They will be inside the scrotum, but attached to the gluteus muscles above.”

My wife nods in understanding.

“You did say no anesthetic, right?” the white coat asks.

“Correct, he had breakfast this morning.” My wife is perfunctory in her answer. I am to have my cock removed without any anesthetic! I am THRILLED!

Mr. Mask nods and returns his attention to my crotch.

“We will insert the antenna from the top down.” His scalpel moves to the skin just under my cockhead.

I feel a distinct puncture. My eyes become unwillingly glued to the TV screen. For the second time on my honeymoon I see blood begin to flow from my cock.

He withdraws an antenna like he strip of wire that we saw in the conference room from a sterile package, wraps the steel wire around my cock over the line that my wife had drawn, clips it to length, smoothes the cut ends, and begins to insert it under the skin of my cock. On the television monitor I can see the wire bulging the skin out as it passes underneath. Each of the balls attached to the wire travels around the circular path under the line drawn earlier. The wire continues around and around until it is at the base of my shaft.

Mr. Mask again clips the wire at the top, places a ball right on the tip of the wire, then shoves the antenna another inch into me. Using surgical glue, he seals the tiny incision at the top. The fire of the glue catches my attention big time. After it subsides, I grimly admit that this is still better than amputation.

He moves my cock around, inspecting the location of all of the lumps in my cock. Looking up at my wife, he sees her nod her head in approval of his work.

He moves down to my balls, cupping them in his hand. My skin crawls. My eyes are glued to the TV. He moves the knife to the top front of my ball sac. I can’t shut my eyes. My balls cinch up inside me, trying to escape their mutilation.

Another puncture, right in the middle. Mask takes two short wires from a package and inserts them into my sack. He uses his thumb to guide the ends to their correct locations. With a long spouted bottle, he attaches them to my cods inside my sack with medical glue. He sews them in place using long tipped needle nose pliers.

He then takes a micro chip from another package and inserts it into my sack. Using both thumbs, he shifts it to the center of my sack, just under the center of my cock shaft. He glues it in place, then using the same pincher pliers, permanently attaches them to the muscle above. He attaches the wires to the chip.

Next he passes another set of wires up to the base of my cock, one right at the bottom of the antenna, and three at the locations they had pointed at in the conference room. He attaches the wires to the antenna, then to the chip in my sack, then locates the proper locations at the base of my penis to attach the three wires.

He glues the holes shut.

He turns to look at my wife, giving her the thumbs up sign. She returns the sign.

He looks at me and says “Now was that so bad?”

Easy for him to say. “Easier for you then me.” I reply cheekily.

“Son, I have the same implant, except for the amplifiers on the antenna. I may have that changed, after I see how easy it is with you. That is one large specimen you have there between your legs, son. If the procedure works for you, it will work for anybody. Thanks for letting us use you as a guinea pig.” He turns and walk from the room.

‘You’re fucking welcome!’ I think

Thanks? I’m a guinea pig? Me let them use me? What the hell does this thing do?

Nurse reinstalls the ring on my cock. She seemed to enjoy tugging the head through the too small opening.

“I can tell you, sir, yours is the largest schlongue I have ever seen in all my years in penile surgery.” She appears to be in her late fifties, so I guess she has some experience.

She reattaches the leash to my cock and motions for me to follow her.

My wife takes my leash and walks me back down the hall to the same conference room in which this whole charade started. No explanation of any kind. Every body watches me walk bare naked, led by a cock leash held by my tiny little wife, back down the hall into the same conference room.

Everybody resumes their seats. I remain standing because there is no seat for me.

“What is your recommendation for the healing period, before I can test it?”

“You can test it right now, if you like. In fact, that would be an excellent idea. Wait for one moment while we set up the cameras.”

“The spot lights are turned on, the camera started, and my wife raises a small key chain. She presses a button on the key chain fob, and I feel a sharp electrical shock to my balls. Not enough to cause real pain, just enough to really get my attention. Like the shock you get from touching a light switch after walking across staticky carpet.

Why in the world would that be necessary?

“Try the other button now please.”

Her finger changes position on the controller. She presses another button.

My cock springs to attention, rising up and snapping against my stomach. I look down to see the antenna’s balls clearly visible wrapping around my shaft.

“How do I get it to go down?” my pretty little wife asks.

“Press the button again. If sexual stimulation is not present, it should return to its flaccid condition quickly.”

My wife presses the button again, my cock begins to deflate. Talk about a woman needing absolute control! She can make me hard at will, keep me from cumming as long as she wants, then allow me to lose my hard-on at her leisure.

“You should remember, as I’m sure you already know, doctor, that a penis that stays erect for longer than four to six hours could suffer problems. The battery that charges this can be recharged with this solar array by holding the array in bright light and pressing this pad against the chip location. Leave it that way for about fifteen minutes every few weeks, and there should be no problems with the battery charge. Any other questions?”

My wife shakes her head ‘No’ and gets up to leave.

The ‘Thank you’, ‘No, thank you for this opportunity!’ bullshit takes about five more minutes. I fidget in my nakedness. My wife turns to me and presses the button that inflates my cock. She takes me out into the hall with my erection pulsing in front of me as I walk by all of the ogling eyeballs falling out of their sockets. My cockhead is floating over the top of her head like a balloon over a child at the county fair. People begin to clap as I walk by. Soon the hallway is a sea of clapping hands, wolf whistles and cheering.

My wife hands me my clothes and points to the men’s restroom. “There is a dressing room in there, honey.”

My erection accompanies me into the restroom. It knocks painfully on the door going in. The dressing room is comfortable, and I sit down to assess my condition. My cock head waves back and forth at me as I sit there. There is no way I can get the son of a bitch back into my pants like this. I try pushing him down between my legs, but no go. He resists with a horrible tension in my balls.

I have finally decided that I will need to go back out into the corridor and ask my wife to ‘allow’ me to relax,’ when I feel the little tickle at the base of my cock, and Big John begins to wilt.