Testos Four

Ensign Armstrong


By Aaron Strong

Commander's Log - supplemental.

I am en-route to Starbase 324, where I am to pick up a Ensign Eric Armstrong. Armstrong is to be taken to Testos Four, where he will be introduced to the Testones.

My mission is to study and record the interaction between the Testones and Armstrong. Thus far, human exposure to the Testones has been very limited. I have been the only one who has met them. Starfleet has assigned me to introduce Armstrong to the Testones, because the Federation wants to see how Earth's best man measures up to the Testone's virility and inhuman strength.

Armstrong is a Physique-Bred Specimen (PBS for short). PBS's are genetically engineered humans, who are bred for the specific traits of muscular strength and physical aesthetics. They are generally at least four times as strong as the average human (the genetics have been perfected over the centuries), and their physical appearance is substantially larger and more developed than other human men. Yet they are 100% human. They are the envy of all human men, and the dream of all human women.

Starfleet's aim is to see if a human man, even a PBS, can measure up to a Testone's strength. Armstrong was selected from all PBS's for two reasons: 1) he is in Starfleet 2) he is considered by many to be the strongest, most well-developed human man alive. An added plus for Armstrong is that when he was bred, the genetic engineers added a high amount of pheromones and other sensually attractive traits to his DNA. In short, Armstrong is a knockout among humans, and Starfleet wants to know how the Testones will react to him.

I am aboard the shuttle Aurora, a large Mars class shuttle, designed to carry 6 to 8 passengers on deep space missions. However, for this trip, I am alone, and the ensign and I will be the only ones on the return trip to Testos Four.

* * * * *

I docked the Aurora at one of the Starbase docks. I could have just beamed Armstrong aboard, but I needed to take on some other supplies. Besides, I wanted to park the shuttle for a while and rest.

The docking rings clamped, and the Aurora shook slightly, making a thud. I secured the cockpit and made my way to the door. Armstrong had hailed me when I approached, so I knew he'd be waiting for me. I punched in the code to open the door.

I had done only a small amount of research on Armstrong. It seems the PBS's like to keep a lot of their personal information to themselves. Understandable, considering all of us voyeurs out there. I knew he was 6'10" tall and weighed 480 pounds and had less than 3% body fat. (Oh the wonders that we have been able to accomplish in the last 200 years!) But there were no pictures of Armstrong available, and of course there were no holodeck programs of him either.

Having just spent a month on Testos Four, I figured I had been exposed to all the male virility, power and pure muscle that a man could ever hope for. I expected that my encounter with this ensign would be almost- well, routine. I mean, I had never met a human man who came close to possessing the size and power of a Testone. And even though I knew his stats were nearly comparable to those of many of the Testones I had spent the last four weeks with, I was not expecting Armstrong to measure up to their lofty standards.

The door opened with a slow, mechanical swoosh. Outside the door stood Ensign Armstrong. The background information on him was no preparation for what my eyes were seeing, nor my inner gut experiencing. My stomach tightened; my heart seemed to leap. Armstrong was indeed 6'10" tall, and his uniform was filled with 480 pounds of what looked like rock-hard, thick, steel-belted muscle. But for all this thick muscularity, he was so lean and defined that I nearly began to pee! I had forgotten how beautiful the male human body is. But no memory of a man could have ever prepared me for this!

Armstrong stood facing me, looking down at me. His body was totally still; totally erect, as he stood at semi-attention. In his left hand he held a travel bag. From the stress on the handle straps, it looked like it was loaded down with bricks. And yet his hand was half-open, his fingers loosely holding the straps as if they weighed only a few pounds. His long-sleeved uniform hid almost everything, but I could tell his forearms were thicker and meatier than any I had seen on a man! Even his fingers were a turn-on! His muscular hands were big.

He was wearing the black and blue uniform of a science officer, the bulk of the uniform being black, and his galaxy-class shoulders covered in blue. The narrow collar surrounding his thick neck was emblazoned with a single pip, indicating his low rank.

I fully expected a PBS to be totally aloof and hopelessly stuck on himself. After all, they all know that their bodies are the envy of every human man in the galaxy, and they have to come to terms with the fact that they could have ANY woman (or man) that they wanted whenever they wanted. That must be an enormously ego-puffing thing to live with. And yet, the sparkle in Armstrong's eye and the almost coy smile on his face immediately dissolved all of my preconceived notions.

The other sensation I immediately experienced was one of overwhelming sexual drive. It was as if I were an animal in heat! I had never experienced anything like it. Granted, I am a man who is willing to go to the sheets as fast as any man, but this was different. It usually takes me at least a few minutes to get to know a guy, even if his looks knock me off my feet. I usually like to scope out the guy's body before I jump to any conclusions about his virility. But even before I could take inventory of Armstrong's enormous body (and it was apparent that it WOULD take some time to inventory all of those bulges and thick slabs of muscle), I was totally engrossed with the concept of having SEX with this guy! I wanted to BREED!

Maybe it was his eyes. They were the darkest, most seductive, sexiest, HOTTEST looking pair of lookers I had ever been violated by. And they DID seem to violate the most inner parts of my being. He looked deeply into me. And the most erotic thing was, that after he plunged his eyes inside of me, HE SMILED! He saw my whole soul, and he LIKED it! I know he wasn't Betazoid (and thank god for that- it'd be terrible if this guy could really read my thoughts!), but I had this engrossing sense that Armstrong KNEW me, in a very intimate sense of the word.

Or Maybe his eroticism came from that face. If there ever were a picture of the perfectly developed face, perfectly developed jaw line, musculature, dimples, skin, lips, eyes, even nose- it was embodied in ensign Eric Armstrong. His face was chiseled to unreal masculine beauty. His neck was thick. My stomach actually began to hurt, he was so fucking good looking. I never wanted to leave his presence again.

He had dark, black hair that was buzzed short on the sides, a little longer on top. His ears stuck out from his head, giving him a cute yet virile military look.

What I couldn't understand was why in the universe weren't every woman who had ever laid eyes on this guy lined up on the space dock behind him, clamoring for a look, reaching for a feel of his incredible muscles, trying desperately to get close to him? I knew that if I had ever met him before, I would be in that mob. I knew now that I was doomed to a hopeless fate of Armstrong worship. I would probably die if I ever had to be out of his presence again.

Obviously, much of his overwhelmingness came from that inhumanly developed human physique. It was absolutely huge! It was the most gorgeously proportioned, physically developed body that I had ever seen. I nearly began to cry. (And this is from a guy who just left Testos Four!) His thick neck was extremely powerful. His traps were mountains of muscle. His deltoids and arms formed the most beautiful sculpture of welded- steel strength! They were fucking massive! And those pecs! They pouted high, and rolled downward in full, broad sweeps, overhanging a narrow, cobblestone-piled torso. Even his ABS were visible through his tight-fitting uniform! His legs were like two shuttle crafts in themselves.

Oh, I just love a man in uniform! My loss of composure must have been nothing new to him, but he handled it like a gentleman.

"Permission to come aboard?" he asked. His voice was full and resonant.

I must have frozen. My eyes were transfixed on those shoulders.

"Permission to come aboard?" he asked again, this time stifling a small grin.

"Oh. Yes. Um. Yes." I stammered. I reached my trembling hand out to shake his. He gently squeezed my hand. My fingers and palm were buried inside his huge grip. I looked at his muscular hand and was amazed at its size. His palm was warm and dry. My hand seemed to hibernate, not ever wanting to wake from this winter paradise. "Commander Raexis Mitchell," I announced, trying to keep him from opening his gentle, yet powerful grip.

"Ensign Eric Anderson, sir," he responded. He seemed quite young. (His bio said he was 21 years old, but he obviously hadn't yet lost his teenage looks.) His manly physique stood in stark contrast to his boyish, ensignesque submission. He could easily break my back by placing my spine between his forearm and biceps muscles and gently squeezing, and yet he was required to obey my every command. This was going to be an interesting trip.

"Come aboard, ensign," I finally said, stepping aside to let the gorgeous behemoth in. I liked the sound of calling him "ensign." It had a certain slave/master ring to it.

The ensign stowed his belongings in the crew quarters area. It was a large common area, usually lined with bunks. But I had taken the liberty of changing the layout just a bit, and now the room sported two oversized beds. The bunks had been removed, and the room had taken on a rather comfortable, relaxed atmosphere. The ensign seemed to approve of the crew quarters. Fortunately for me, there were no other sleeping rooms on the shuttle. Community sleeping. Oh well...

Some workers from the starbase brought on our supplies and then left (it was fun to watch them gawk at Armstrong). Then the ensign closed the hatch and we readied for departure.

"You ever fly a Mars class shuttle before ensign?" I asked.

"Yes sir, many times," Armstrong said.

"Well, assume the pilot's seat, then," I said. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Aye sir." (Geez, it got me going when he said that!)

The ensign sat down in the left chair. It greatly protested the weight, but it held. I sat in the right chair. Armstrong cleared us for departure, and within a few minutes, the star base was far behind us. I fought in vain to keep from looking to my left, to let my eyes feast on the most beautiful meal they had ever had. But alas, I had to give them only snacks, hoping that the main meal would come very quickly.

"I see that not only are you a PBS, but you're also a PDGP," I said.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Pretty Damn Good Pilot," I smiled.

The ensign grinned just a bit, keeping his eyes on the controls. He made a few adjustments as he said "Thank you, sir." (god I was getting hot every time he said "sir"!)

After a few minutes Armstrong put the shuttle on autopilot. "The computer says that at this warp, we should reach Testos Four in five days," he said.

I took a look at the controls and made an adjustment. The shuttle's speed slowed slightly. "Actually, the specs for this shuttle call for a slightly slower cruising speed," I said matter-of-factly. "Our ETA will be seven days."

The ensign looked puzzled only momentarily, but he didn't question it. "Yes sir," he said again.

"Ensign, I know you understand the importance of this mission." I began to talk. "And I know you've been briefed on the mission. Later, we can go over the plan in more detail, but for now, I wanted to get to know you a little better, if that's O.K., with you."

"Yes sir," he said. He turned away from the navigation controls, swiveling his chair to face mine. I stood up and got us both some coffee, and sat back down next to him. I figured we could move to more comfortable chairs as the conversation got going.

Armstrong sat in his chair, facing me. His legs were spread slightly, and he rested those fantastic hands of his on the inside of his insanely thick quads, dangling dangerously close to his crotch (which was, understandably, bulging with his genitals). His biceps and triceps were astounding! They filled his uniform, taking on a rock-hard shape, slightly flexing occasionally if he wiggled a finger. Of course, all Starfleet officers' uniforms are custom replicated to fit their bodies. But I wondered how much energy it must have taken to replicate HIS uniform! And did the computer protest when he gave it the measurements for each body part? ("I'm sorry. Those specifications are impossible for a human man...")

I handed the ensign his coffee, and we chatted for a few minutes. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you what we discussed. I was hopelessly entranced.

I must have said some funny things during the conversation, because I distinctively remember Armstrong laughing out loud a few times, and I remember him smiling a lot, grinning and turning his head to the side as he did so.

The first thing about the conversation that I can concretely remember was the ensign saying something about a doctor of his, examining him and measuring his testosterone levels.

"...when I was 18, he examined me and he said I had the highest naturally occurring testosterone level he had ever seen, even in a PBS," the ensign said. He started laughing and continued. "He even started joking with me and told me that if I scratched myself, my blood might be white, because he wondered if I had more semen in my system than blood." Armstrong laughed out loud, his dark eyes squinting and his two cheek dimples deepening. His teeth were perfectly straight and dazzling white.

I looked intently at him, and the ensign could tell what I was thinking. "But it's not, sir. Look." He pulled up the sleeve of his arm, to his elbow, and exposed his blue blood vessels, rushing oxygen-deprived blood back to the heart for more, where it would turn red. I nearly gasped at the lean muscularity of his forearm. It was so incredibly thick! Striated veins crisscrossed his muscular arms. The veins were a deep blue, bulging obscenely out from the fat-free skin. It was the most amazing display of vascularity I had ever seen!

"Oh my god ensign!" I said. "What in the galaxy is your body fat level?!"

"Right now, at last count, it was 1.8%," he smiled. "I've had it down to 1.6, but I hate to diet," he grinned broadly. He opened and closed his hand very very slowly, and the muscles of his forearm bulged. His blood vessels pulsed. I nearly peed in my uniform. Armstrong looked at my reaction and was pleased, but he tried to hide it.

I worked up all my courage and said "May I?" as I looked at the rippling forearm.

"Yes sir," he smiled. I moved my right hand to his forearm and was overwhelmed with the warm, muscularity. I could actually feel the blood flow through the gigantic veins. They crisscrossed everywhere! He slowly wriggled his fingers again, and the thick slabs of muscle danced under my fingers. Almost involuntarily, I brought my other hand up and began to feel his forearm with both hands. He kept moving his fingers, giving me a great show. I slid one hand down to his wrist and tried to close my thumb and finger around it. It was hopeless. There was a gap of at least two inches! And my hands are quite large!

Then, he clenched his fist, and my hand moved back up the forearm. It actually began to BULGE! My eyes must have bugged out. I began to ejaculate in my uniform. Armstrong kept his fist clenched for a few seconds, then he spread his fingers, causing his meaty arm to ripple as the muscles receded. Then he clenched again, forcing his arm to contort into huge mounds of muscle once again.

My orgasm wouldn't stop. It must have been the Testone effect, as I called it. After spending over a month ingesting copious amounts of Testone testosterone both orally and anally, my testosterone levels had skyrocketed. One of the most visible effects of this increased testosterone was that my muscle mass had increased by over 15%. But another result was that I found the need to masturbate (or ejaculate in some manner) at least three times a day. An unfortunate side-effect (or fortunate, depending on your perspective) was that very often just the sight of a muscular man or holodeck character, or sometimes just the thought of a hot man, sent me into an involuntary orgasm.

The ensign seemed to enjoy showing off for me, totally unaware of the orgasmic effect he was having on his commanding officer. He let me touch him for a few minutes, opening and closing his fist, flexing his forearm for me. It must have seemed like forever to him; but it was long enough for me to finish.

"Thank you for choosing me for this mission, sir. I believe I am the man for this trip," he said as he pulled his sleeve back down.

"Well, ensign, I believe you are the man for this mission too," I said. "You obviously meet our expectations as far as your physical development is concerned. And the more I get to know you, I know the Testones will find you to be an engaging and interesting young man."

"Thank you sir," he said.

I sat back in my chair, checking my pants quickly. I could clean up the slop later. It didn't show.

"I'm interested in learning about PBS's, ensign," I said. "What's it really like to be built like that?"

Armstrong grinned just a bit. "A lot of people honestly think it must be a curse. They think that it must be a real drag to have everyone gawk at you all the time. I suppose if I were disabled and someone gawked, it would bother me. But having someone look at me and admire my physique, well, that has never bothered me. Sometimes I don't even notice it anymore. But, usually, I can tell what most people are thinking when they look at me."

"Really?" I asked. "What do most people think?"

"Well, sir. It's interesting." He smiled as he carefully put his thoughts together. "A lot of women get turned on." He paused. "It's kinda difficult for me to talk about it, sir. Because- well, when I talk about it, some people think I'm really vain. But I'm not. It's just that I can tell..."

"Ensign," I interrupted, "From the brief time I've talked with you, I can tell that you're not vain. Don't worry about it," I reassured him.

"Thank you, sir." He thought for a second, then continued. "A lot of women get turned on. They try to hide it, but I can tell they are interested in sex. And a lot of men are interested in the same thing."

"Does that bother you?" I asked. "I mean, the bio that I read on you didn't mention sexual preference."

"It's definitely women," he said. "But I have no problem with men liking me. I have to admit that I've done it with a few men, just to see what it'd be like. It was O.K., but it didn't compare with doing it with women." The ensign turned a light red and smiled. He looked out the window.

"Maybe you just didn't do it with the right man," I suggested.

Armstrong immediately looked back at me, his eyes wide.

"Not that I..."

"That's O.K., sir," he interrupted me. "I could tell what you were thinking, too, when we first met."

Now it was my turn to turn red. I'm not ashamed of my sexuality. In the 24th century, you don't have to be. But still, it was somewhat disconcerting to know that my lustings were that obvious. I don't like it when my sexual proclivities get in the way of my work. The chain of command requires a lot of discipline.

"Well," I slowly began speaking again. "What gave you any ideas about what I was thinking?"

"Well, sir. I don't know that it would be appropriate for me to embarrass a senior officer..."

"Please," I smiled. "I'm not embarrassed. Maybe you could help me, so that in the future I am more aware of how I come across."

He paused for a second, then smiled and said "Well, sir. I noticed that you keep looking at my arms and shoulders." He paused, then said "That and my crotch." He moved his left hand toward his cock very slowly. His thumb met the bulge in his pants and he ran it up and down his genitals just a bit, without moving his huge, muscular hand. He looked at me as he did it. Then he slowly moved his thumb away and rubbed the inside of his thick quads with his hands, spreading his legs apart just a bit more.

I cleared my throat and then said slowly, "You know, ensign, I need to do some tests on you during this trip. And then I need to give you a little training so you'll know what to do and how to react when you meet the Testones."

"Yes sir," he said. He kept his hands seductively on the inside of his quads. He flexed his legs just a bit. The muscles rippled, even through the black fabric of his pants. His fingers felt every wave of muscle as his quads moved.

"I just want you to know that I intend to work with you using the utmost in professionalism and ethical standards," I said.

"Yes sir," he said, smiling just a bit.

I cleared my throat again and said "I don't know if you're ready, but one of the tests I need to do on you is a strength and measurements assessment. I'll need to test your strength, doing certain lifting movements- bench press, biceps curl- that sort of thing. Then I'll need to take your measurements. The Testones have a very high regard for muscularity and strength."

"Yes sir. I've had a few briefings."

"And so you are aware of their sexual rituals and methods of establishing dominance?" I asked.

"Yes sir, I am."

"And, given your sexual preference for women, how do you think you will do, knowing that you will be expected to have sexual relationships with men, many of whom will be bigger, more muscular and stronger than yourself?" I asked.

"I believe that I will be an awesome human representative to the Testones. I am confident that I will be able to demonstrate to them some of the human potential for physical strength," the ensign said.

"Good," I said. "Let's move back to the quarters area and do a few tests before we retire for the night ensign."

"Yes sir," he said as he stood.

* * * * *

We kept the ship on autopilot and moved back to the quarters area. I decided to leave the milk in my pants. It felt kinda good, having that stuff there. And besides, I had a feeling that I might produce a lot more of it anyway, over the next few hours.

I pulled out a movable computer station. It was like a standing desk area that was movable. I punched a few instructions into the computer, and a lab/workout area materialized at the close end of the room. "Thank goodness for holodeck emitters," I smiled.

Then ensign agreed.

"Mr. Armstrong, I'm going to need you to strip down to some trunks for now. Later, I'll need you to be completely naked. But for now, do you have something you would feel comfortable in?" I asked.

"Yes sir, " he answered. He moved to the quarters end of the room and retrieved some red posing-type trunks from his stuff. "This do, sir?"

"Yes. That'll be fine," I smiled. My cock began to grow again, as I pondered the image of him in that skimpy strap.

"Permission to remove my uniform, sir."

"Granted, ensign."

Armstrong sat his trunks down on a bench and began to undress. He moved slowly, thoughtfully. For the life of me, I didn't know how he was going to get the top of that uniform off! It hugged every muscle, making it look like it would never agree to leave. He grabbed the bottom of his mostly black top and slowly pulled it up. He was a master at suspense, teasing me every inch of the way.

I nearly gasped out loud when I saw his abs! They were more defined and muscular than I had seen on any Testone! He continued lifting, finally bringing it all the way up. The shirt protested with a very hard, tight stretch. He popped it off his head and it landed on the bed next to him.

I had never seen a more beautiful human. And, having spent a month with perfectly developed Testones, I thought I had seen it all. But I was wrong. Armstrong's upper body was proportionally developed to perfection! Huge, moving muscles were everywhere!

His chest was overwhelming! It was so thick and well-rounded. Huge, dark sand-dollars surrounded olive-sized nipples, which were forced downward by the massive slabs of pectoral beef.

And his arms were as big as some of the best-developed Testones! I was in shock!

"Shit ensign!" I gasped. "You are every bit as muscular as a Testone!"

Eric didn't answer.

His proportions were perfect. As I gazed at his physique, I was gripped by how beautiful the human man is. It was truly refreshing to see a MAN again. The Testones were amazingly powerful and beautifully developed, but Eric was– well... he was the perfect human!

He could see that I was in awe. He lifted one arm and flexed it for me. Immediately, a huge mound of rock formed and grew into a solid-granite mound. I estimated it to be 27 or 28 inches. It was a perfect cannonball of pristine muscle, rippling with veins, pulsing with muscle fibers. I came again.

The ensign flexed a few more poses for me as I finished my second orgasm under his spell. I quickly composed myself and prepared the computer for the strength tests. The ensign continued undressing and put on his red posing trunks, bashfully turning away from me as he did so. His butt made my gut ache! His glutes were the most spectacular round globes of steel I had ever seen!

I had the ensign lie down on a bench, and I handed him a six-foot long bar. The bar was thick, about two inches in diameter. It was controlled by the holographic computer. With the bar in his hands, I could control its weight by selecting corresponding numbers on my computer pad.

"Let's start out with a 800 pound bench press," I said.

"That will be only the warm-up, I hope," he smiled.

"Humor me," I grinned back.

He spread his hands and I increased the weight setting until it read 800 pounds.

"O.K. ensign," I coached. "Give me ten reps."

Eric pressed his hands upward in a methodical manner. His arms and chest bulged, but he showed no strain. He slowly lowered the weight, and repeated the lift for a total of ten easy reps. On the last rep, the computer lightened the bar automatically as he lowered it to chest level.

I increased the weight a few times and he repeated the ten reps without trouble. On the seventh set, the weight was up to 1,800 pounds. Armstrong's face tightened as he cleared the third rep. This was getting interesting. His pecs bulged into two huge mountains of steel as he pressed up the fourth rep. On the fifth, his massive arms began to twitch. He expelled loud breaths as he strained. My cock grew anew.

On the seventh rep, Eric squirmed. His massive body convulsed to pushed the weight up. Finally, with red face, he made it, panting hard. He lowered the weight, and relaxed, almost collapsing.

"What's your max, ensign?" I asked as he cooled down.

"I can do a ton for three reps," he panted. "But not after seven sets," he smiled.

"Two thousand pounds?" I asked, astonished.

"Yes sir," he smiled. "Isn't genetic engineering great?"

We continued the strength tests, moving to back, biceps, triceps and legs.

One of the highlights was watching him perform 200 pound one-arm dumbbell curls, as his hardened biceps easily lifted the weight.

His superhuman strength amazed me at every turn, forcing weight to move that no mere mortal could move; and all the while, his muscular physique made jelly out of my stomach, churning my soul with his perfect good- looks and overwhelming virility. He was truly the strongest human in the galaxy, lifting more weight than I thought was possible.

As we ended the strength tests, Eric picked up the computerized weight bar again. He held it up at chest level, his palms facing down. He slid his hands out far, grasping it with a very wide grip. He looked at me and then his whole body tensed. His arms grew bulbous mounds of muscle and his hands tightened. His face grimaced, and the bar started bending. It was minuscule at first. I thought the ensign would explode as he brought all his strength to bear on that bar. The bar was made out of an extremely hard alloy; one that would be impossible for a man to manipulate. But manipulate was exactly what Armstrong was doing! His forearms thickened as he strained. His powerful fingers pressed harder and harder.

The computer sounded an alarm, noting that the bar was being bent. I touched a few buttons on the pad and the alarm silenced as I deactivated it.

The bar bent more. He gasped for air and renewed his attack on the metal. It bent more. Within a minute, he had the bar bent to less than a 90 degree angle. Then he took the bar, placed one end on the floor and began pressing the other end down, using his whole weight. It moved faster, bending to 45 degrees. Armstrong picked up the bar and placed it against his body, holding out the far end. He pulled the bar and it bent farther. His triceps bulged as he strained.

I couldn't stand it. My rock-hard cock began to throb once again, and it spewed cum into my pants.

His face contorted. The metal bent all the way. His thumbs opened up and grasped the close end, then he squeezed his hands tightly, bringing both ends together. The bar was bent in half.

Eric held the bar for a minute, examining it. Then he handed it to me. I was in shock.

I didn't know what to say, so I said "In the morning I'll start you on the sex-resistant tests," I said as he rested.

"With your permission, sir, I would like to do a few tonight."

I hesitated. He must have been tired from all the strength tests. But after a few minutes of conversation, I relented.

I had Eric lie back on a bench which was propped up at a 45 degree angle. It was a wide bench, so his massive arms rested on it.

"I need to know, ensign, how often you ejaculate," I said.

"Well, sir," he began. "My high testosterone levels usually require that I expend semen an average of five or six times per day. I usually relieve myself through masturbation, although I try to avail myself of sex when it's possible, and desirable." He looked at me and grinned a bit as he turned red.

"Are you able to hold it in for prolonged periods of time?" I asked.

"Yes sir," he said. "I have gone a week without ejaculating semen. But it wasn't pleasant. Frequently, if I don't masturbate often enough, I cum involuntarily. It can be messy, and embarrassing if it comes at an inconvenient time."

"And what might provoke an involuntary orgasm?" I queried.

"Well, sir. My thoughts have a lot to do with it. That, and what my eyes see. I try to stay away from some of the more provocative holodeck programs, if I want to resist orgasm when I'm feeling full."

"And what do you consider to be provocative holodeck programs?" I asked.

"Well." He paused for a minute as his eyes gazed onto the ceiling. His fantastic body swelled with each virile breath. "I have written one or two programs. Many of them are of beautiful women. But there are a few where I am overpowered by a man larger than myself. I find that quite erotic, considering there is no man who actually exists who could do that. I've always wondered what it would be like to find a man who is stronger than I am. I guess it's just a fantasy that I have to invent on the holodeck to experience." His trunks, which were filled with a thick, meaty, long penis, began to move. The ensign began to get an erection as his thoughts were filled with his fantasy.

"Well, ensign," I said. "On Testos Four, I think you might just find what you're looking for."

He looked at me and smiled.

"But our job right now is to develop in you the discipline to resist those sexual fantasies of yours. When you are introduced to the Testones, they will interpret your involuntary ejaculation as a sign of weakness. To tell you the truth, I don't know how you're going to avoid it. But if we can delay it as long as possible, that will be better than nothing."

He resumed his gazing on the ceiling, and his cock began to grow again.

"Tell me, Eric," I decided to use his first name. "How long has it been since you've had an orgasm?"

"Five hours, forty minutes, sir."

I looked inquisitive.

"It was an hour before I was brought on board, sir. I was just waiting for you on the Starbase, so I made a quick trip back to my quarters and shot a load."

My dick stiffened as I contemplated such a scene.

"Ensign, I am going to do a little test now. I am ordering you to remain still, no matter where I touch you or how embarrassed you feel."

"Aye sir."

"And also, I am ordering you to refrain from ejaculating, unless you first obtain permission from me," I added.

"Aye sir."

I moved to Armstrong's right side. He was lying at about a 45 % angle, tipped back on the bench. His musculature was astounding.

I moved my right hand to his shoulder and spread my fingers to attempt to take in its mass. This was impossible to do totally. The huge delt was incredibly hard and round. The three heads of his deltoid muscles were clearly defined and incomprehensibly huge. My hand slid down to his arm, enjoying the dip that separated his delts and his huge triceps; and the tip of my forefinger began to trace the obscenely bulging blood vessel that ran down his biceps muscle. His biceps was so fucking huge, bulging to a beautiful peak, even as his arm rested at his side, on the cushion of the bench. I played with the vein, pushing on it, tracing it. Then my fingers spread, and I ran my hand over the mass of his biceps, squeezing the iron mound. It didn't give. The corner of Armstrong's mouth turned up slightly as I experienced the hardness and inhuman size of his arm. It was every bit as big and solid as any of the Testones' I had met. I didn't think this kind of development was possible on a human.

I brought my hand up and began to touch his chest. It was so warm. It was hardened, as if it were made of steel. I had never touched a man's chest that was so muscular and hard. My fingers moved slowly across it, fondling the deep, deep cleavage between his pecs. My finger was nearly lost in the valley. My hand moved onto his left pec and I caressed it sensually, rubbing it excruciatingly slowly from side to side and top to bottom. The slab of beef sat high; a huge, ripped mountain of muscle. I moved my fingers onto the unshelled peanut that was his nipple.

Armstrong kept his eyes closed. I made out an almost imperceptible moan, emanating from deep within his chest. I teased his tit, pinching it lightly. His cock grew more, snaking up the right side of his red posing trunks. I moved my hand to his closer pec and continued to touch him, stroking and stimulating him with moves that the Testones had taught me. Armstrong responded by growing his huge penis even more. Within a minute, it was fully erect, bulging the skinny strip of fabric that made up the front of his right pant leg. It was so thick that the two-inch strip of fabric couldn't cover all of it. The two sides of the striated rod were plainly visible as his dick lied pointing up to his right, toward me. Only a thin strip of fabric hid the center of the rod. His helmet pushed the fabric, stretching it and moistening it with his precum.

I moved my hand down, over the huge overhang of his chest. My fingers rose and fell as my hand moved onto the bulges of his insanely defined abdominal muscles. I had never seen such deeply separated abs! My fingers lingered on his abs for a few minutes, experiencing a roller coaster ride as they moved over and over the mountains of muscle.

Armstrong was getting lost in ecstasy. He moaned every time my hand moved in a lower direction, toward his cock.

By now, much of his posing strap was wet with his precum, making the fabric hug his muscular cock, highlighting every bulging vein that ran across it. The huge member pulled the fabric upward.

I moved my hand down, and slowly, seductively, began to touch it. Now I was really going to use some of the irresistible Testone methods on him.

I took the tip of my forefinger and the tip of my thumb and began to run them up the opposite outsides of his cock. Armstrong moaned with pleasure. I moved them up and down the length of his cock for about five minutes. Then I ever-so-slightly slipped my finger under the fabric and touched his sensitive spot, just below his cut. He moaned and his cock stiffened to attention in response, spewing spurts of clear precum into his posing strap. I could take it no longer. I pulled the fabric up, forcing his dick to sprout into the leg of his trunks. I pulled the leg of the fabric up, so it wrapped to the side of his mother-fucking HUGE balls. The weight of his testicles was so heavy that the skin of his scrotum was stretched tight, pulling laboriously at the taut skin, hanging low, resting against his quads.

His genitals were the most striated, muscular-looking sex organs I had ever seen. His helmet glistened as it grew and shrank, seeming to search for stimulation. The ridge that ran the length of his shaft was thick and bulging. His cock was long; well over a foot long, and very thick. His hairless balls were nearly the size of tennis balls; covered with a thick, moist sac. I ran my finger down the side of his trunks, weaving it next to his left ball as I went lower. I spread my hand again and lightly began to caress his scrotum, kneading his balls together, then apart, gently exploring the giant's testicles. He froze in anticipation.

I got acquainted with his testes for a few minutes, then slowly moved up to his cock. He moaned again as I began to tease it. I tickled it, and it stiffened. He groaned, moving his head to the side, his eyes still closed. I began to use some more advanced Testone stimulation moves, and the ensign responded with moans and groans.

"Sir," he said softly. "I've never had anyone give me pleasure like this before. Not a woman, not ANYONE. Please don't stop."

I didn't answer. I just kept touching him.

Then I reached behind me and grabbed a length of string. I made a slipknot and slid it over his helmet, tightening it slightly, just under his cut. I began to pull on the other end of the string, forcing his cock away from his abs and into the air. Armstrong grinned and groaned. Quickly, his precum drenched the string. I pulled harder and his huge, stiff cock bent farther, becoming red and totally striated.

My cock begged for release. The sight of his extended penis was too much for me.

I pulled harder, forcing his giant steel penis out even more; past the point of being uncomfortable. Armstrong flexed his cock, and the string slipped from between my fingers, thwapping his cock against his abs. I grabbed the string again and wrapped the end around my fingers to prevent a repeat.

I pulled hard and Armstrong's precum flowed heavy as he moaned his approval. I took my other hand and fondled his balls as I extended his cock down as far as I could. Armstrong was going nuts! His whole body rippled with waves of muscles. He smiled and winced, groaning and moaning as I tortured him. His glistening penis was red and huge, struggling against the string that forced it outward. I teased it, pulling it hard, then letting it slack back just a bit. Then I slowly forced it down again, the huge ensign fighting the string all the way. His biceps grew as he clenched his fists, trying desperately to pull his cock back towards his abs.

I came again, in my uniform, filling it with an inordinate amount of semen. The wetness was beginning to show, not having been emptied for four orgasms, now.

Finally, I let go, and his cock smacked his abs again. I untied the wet string and licked up the excess precum. Eric loved this. I licked his cock for a few minutes, tickling his huge penis with my trained tongue. Finally I briefly moved my mouth over his helmet and sucked lightly. I sucked him only once, and Eric begged for more. I ignored his pleas and removed my face from his genitals. Eric panted desperately as his unfulfilled body ached for more.

I made him wait for a few minutes, torturing him with the absence of stimulation, then I moved my hand back to his cock and began to tickle and caress it again. My fingers tenderly ran the length of his rod, then caressed his balls. Up and down my hand gently went, feeling every warm centimeter of the huge organ. Occasionally I squeezed it hard and pushed on it. He would stiffen it in response. Then, sometimes I would open my hand and just lightly touch it. It was a feast that my trembling hand fed on; kneading and caressing, tickling and petting. I continued to tease him this way, occasionally moving my lips to kiss his nipples; often moving my lips to kiss his mouth. I taught him some of the mouth-fuck moves the Testones had used on me.

The foreplay lasted for probably an hour, maybe two. We both had no sense of time.

Finally, I pressed down on his cock and began to lightly masturbate him. He winced his face and groaned as his huge penis was pushed.

"Permission to ejaculate, sir," he requested.

"Permission denied, ensign. Maintain," I responded.

He groaned and took in a deep breath and held it. Over the next few minutes, he inhaled and exhaled deep, loud breaths, as he attempted to resist my masturbating hand.

"Permission to ejaculate, sir," he asked again.

"Denied, ensign. Maintain your current position," I ordered.

He moved his head from side to side, in obvious agony, groaning. His body was tense.

I continued to push, wrapping my fingers tightly around the very warm, bulging cock, moving slowly up, and then down. The thin skin of his penis stretched and moved over the steel-hard cylinder. Slowly, methodically, I drove him nuts with my highly-trained hand. My penis was fully erect. My hand was enjoying a show like it had never enjoyed, manipulating his thin skin up and down that hard, throbbing rod of iron.

Armstrong arched his back and begged "Permission to ejaculate, sir."

I moved my mouth to his ear and whispered "Denied, ensign." Then I pushed harder.

His body glistened with sweat. "Oh SHIT," he groaned as he tried to resist, pressing his huge arms tightly against the cushion. His legs rippled with separated mounds of muscle. His whole body was in agony. "I don't think I can hold on any longer, sir."

"Don't violate my order, ensign," I commanded softly. "Maintain your position."

I moved my face to his, and forced my tongue inside his mouth, while pushing my wrapped fingers hard on his cock. I used one of the most powerful Testone methods on his mouth, a surefire way to drive him insane.

My fingers felt it first, a strong jerk of his cock. The back of my neck immediately confirmed it. Armstrong was shooting. His dick pulsed with slow, uncontrollable bursts, spewing long ropes of semen into the air. Many of them hit the back of my head as I kissed him. I kept pressing him, pleasuring him into a glorious climax. He kissed me with a passion I have never felt from a human man, grabbing me tightly and squeezing me, nearly crushing me with his steel I-beam arms. I kept stroking him.

Finally, Eric released me for just a second, and I broke free enough to move my thirsty mouth down to the spring of life. Immediately, his orgasm intensified as I tickled his cock with my tongue, sending waves of immeasurable pleasure down his shaft and throughout his whole body. He yelled and shot hard. My tongue rubbed the glorious helmet with abandon. It pulsed as it emptied its contents into my mouth. The milk was pungent and strong, obviously filled with more than its share of testosterone. I began to cum in my pants once again.

It must have lasted over five minutes. Our first sexual experience proved to be very pleasurable for both of us.

When it was done, Eric said "Sir, I am afraid you might have ruined me." He smiled broadly. "I don't think I will ever want to go back to women again."

I climbed on top of him and kissed him. "That's fine by me," I said. "But I just might have to put you on report for disobeying a direct order."

He grinned and said "Maybe you'll just have to repeat the test until I get it right, sir."

"Oh, you'll be undergoing quite a few more tests before we reach Testos Four," I grinned. •

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