A Day at the Institute


Her well-oiled hand hovered just out of reach of the subject’s desperate, bobbing cock. She had been at this for almost two-hours now, slowly bringing it right to the edge of an explosive orgasm, only to let go. All in the name of science.


Since around the mid-1990s, the small community of scientists who studied this sort of thing had been confounded by the large spike in reports of erectile dysfunction, disinterest in sex, and other sexual disorders among young men. The received wisdom at the time was that men in their 20s and 30s had very low rates of sexual dysfunction, and that changes, to the extent they occurred at all, were highly unlikely to creep up before a man’s late 40s. And yet, study after study seemed to confirm that this pattern was changing. Young, otherwise healthy men in their 20s and 30s, were increasingly reporting the types of difficulties that used to be almost the exclusive problems of men decades older.

Of course, there were no shortage of hypotheses. The noted increase had coincided to some extent with the ubiquity of free and easily accessible pornography on the internet, leading to much hand-wringing and often alarmist headlines in the back sections of major newspapers. From a scientific standpoint, though, there wasn’t much support to back up that causal story, save for anecdotes. Another theory was that genetically modified food was pumping young men full of chemicals whose effects were little studied, and that one or more of these was causing the rise in sexual dysfunction. But again, while this theory made for good headlines and click-bait advertisements, it didn’t have good grounding in science.

That’s where the Institute came in. Their scientists—dedicated exclusively to the issue of sexual health and arousal—had a different theory. Studies had shown over the years that an obscure part of the brain worked almost as an “arousal cortex,” and produced electric pulses that appeared to stimulate other parts of the brain known to interact with the sexual organs in men and women. Put simply, it appeared, though was far from proven, that this cortex registered arousing thoughts, images, or feelings, and signaled the rest of the brain to make the sex organs respond, for example by giving men an erection.

The Institute’s work had already begun to demonstrate the importance of the arousal cortex in stimulating and maintaining arousal. They had also learned in some preliminary studies that, for individuals with sexual dysfunction, and particularly erectile dysfunction, that the signals from the arousal cortex were notably less distinct than in others. In other words, the connection between the arousal cortex and the rest of the brain was significantly weaker in subjects experiencing erectile dysfunction. Most troublingly, this appeared to be a progressive disorder, with the connection weakening more and more over time.

While the Institute’s work hadn’t yet pinpointed the cause of the weakened connection in the first place, their scientists were already working on methods to restore it. Pharmaceutical options were being explored that would boost the signal, a more direct approach than the current options, which worked largely to increase blood-flow, but didn’t have the same arousal-boosting effects. But other scientists at the Institute, consistent with the desire for more natural interventions, were exploring natural ways to strengthen the connection between the arousal cortex and the rest of the brain.


The ad jumped out at John on the sidebar of his browser: “Seeking participants suffering from erectile dysfunction for non-drug research study.” The ad promised a $250 payment for a day-long trial, but was otherwise vague. But John was immediately drawn to it. At only 26, he was consistently frustrated by his increasing inability to perform with women. He had no problem attracting women that he met, but too often, when it came time to jump into bed, he found himself unable to maintain his erection. The mental anxiety that went with that only exacerbated the problem.

John clicked the link and was directed to the Institute’s website. He could tell they were a legitimate operation, and a little work on Google pulled back several published medical studies. So John put his information into the contact form, and went to sleep. He had nearly forgotten about the trial by the time the phone rang about two weeks later.

“Hello?” John asked.

“Hi, is this Mr. Stevenson?” responded the upbeat female voice on the other end of the line.

“Yes it is, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Thank you, Mr. Stevenson. My name is Nora. I’m calling from the Institute. You filled out an online form for one of our new studies, and our initial screening has indicated you may be a good candidate.

“Are you still interested in participating in the study?”

John was caught a bit off-guard, but the mention of the Institute jogged his memory. “Yes, I’m still interested,” John replied.

“Fantastic, Mr. Stevenson. Is there a good time konak escort bayan to schedule you to come to one of our offices for some additional screening?”


The Institute’s closest satellite office was only about 45 minutes from John’s house, and he made the drive with more than a bit of trepidation. He didn’t know what to expect, and still had no real detail about what the “study” actually entailed. He did know that this was just the “secondary screening,” a term that was probably meant to put him at ease more than it actually did.

The building was utilitarian, and could have been mistaken for any other red brick, low-slung office complex with a handful of floors spread out over the cheap real estate on the outskirts of town. John entered through the double-doors, and found the lobby to be pleasantly inviting, at least compared to the outside of the building. Soft lighting framed leather sofas, magazines sat atop a handful of stylish coffee tables, coffee and tea were set up in the corner, and a large reception desk sat in the middle of it all.

“Hi, I’m John Stevenson. I have a 1 o’clock appointment?” John said as he approached the receptionist, his voice rising slightly, as though even he wasn’t sure he still wanted to go through with this.

The receptionist—an attractive woman of maybe late 50s—punched a few keys on her computer, squinting slightly at the screen.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Stevenson. It’s you’re lucky day; not too many appointments. My name is Shirley. You can follow me back and I’ll get you settled in.”

Shirley rose from her post at the reception desk and beckoned John through another set of double-doors. Behind them, John found what looked like a typical doctor’s office. What appeared to be examination rooms framed the outside wall, while the middle of the long, wide room housed clean white cubicles with various computers, screens, printers, and other electronics.

Shirley guided John toward one of the rooms along the right-hand wall.

“You’ll be in room 2, Mr. Stevenson, the technician will be in in just a minute to get you set up. Please have a seat in the chair over by the table.”

The room was noticeably more comfortable than a typical doctor’s examination room. Rather than a standard medical table, John noticed what looked like a fairly comfortable bed, neatly appointed with crisp, clean white sheets and a couple of fluffy pillows. A stuffed chair with leather upholstery sat in the corner opposite the bed, facing the center of the room. Unlike a typically examination room, which would have been packed with medical supplies and equipment, John could make out only one device that looked vaguely scientific. Extending from one side of the bed was an arm that held a display, and coming from the head and sides of the bed were several wires that connected to small white pads, like the ones John had seen used in lie detector tests.

John barely had time to settle into the corner chair when a soft knock came on the door. The knock was followed quickly by the door opening to reveal a young woman wearing sea-green scrubs and a bright smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stevenson, I’m Jenna, and I’m one of the technicians for the study that you’re signed up for.”

Jenna’s smile never wavered as she introduced herself, and John found himself transfixed by her friendly yet piercing green eyes. Jenna must have been about John’s age, and was adorably cute. Her petite frame fit her perfectly, and the outline of her smallish breasts were just visible pushing against the top of her scrubs. Wavy brown hair framed her face, falling just over the sides of her stylish glasses. Jenna broke eye contact just long enough to pull a stool from the side of the room and sit down across from John.

“So, first of all, I’m sure you’re nervous,” Jenna said reassuringly. “That’s normal, and you’ll hopefully find the screening process pleasant enough that you’ll calm down soon enough.

“If it helps, I can say up front that, apart from drawing a little bit of blood at the beginning and end, nothing that happens here today should be painful or even uncomfortable. First things first, let’s get a blood sample and take some vitals.”

Jenna quickly yet gently snapped a tourniquet on John’s arm and took a couple vials of blood. After that, she got a pulse, took his blood pressure, and checked his height and weight. Then she gestured for John to sit back in the chair.

“Not so bad, was it?” Jenna asked, her face crinkling empathetically.

“No, not at all,” John replied, absentmindedly rubbing the inside of his arm, “is that it for today?”

“Not quite,” Jenna responded. “We’ll use the blood tests and other vitals for part of the screening process, but we need some preliminary data on your arousal responses.”

John blushed deeply, suddenly hyper-aware in front of this girl he might otherwise be hitting on of just what he had signed up for. “Of . . . of, course,” he stuttered.

Jenna smirked, konak escort looking at John with a bit of a knowing gaze.

“That was a little unfair of me to spring on you,” Jenna said. “Let me explain a little bit about the study first.

“I’m sure you know from the ad you answered that the Institute is studying the increased prevalence of erectile dysfunction and other sexual disorders in younger men. With this study, we’re hoping to test our hypothesis that at least part of the cause for some men is a weakened connection between what we call the ‘arousal cortex’ and the parts of the brain that control physical sexual response. If we can make progress on proving that theory, then the study also hopes to test some early non-pharmaceutical methods of repairing that connection.

“To do that, we need men who, like yourself, as suffering from early onset erectile issues. And to make sure you’d be an appropriate subject, we need some data from you as to what arouses you and how your brain functions. Make sense?”

Somehow, that explanation, couched in somewhat sanitized scientific language, made John feel better.

“Yep, sure does,” John responded. “How should we start?”

“Okay,” Jenna responded. “For this, you should get undressed down to your underwear. I’ll leave the room to give you some privacy, and when you’re done, you can climb under the sheet on the bed over there. Whenever you’re ready, just push the button against the wall and I’ll come right back in.”

Jenna left the room, and John did as he was told, slipping under the sheets into the delightfully comfortable bed. He gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts before pressing the call button Jenna had mentioned.

Jenna bounced back into the room. “All set?” she asked.

“As set as I’ll ever be,” John replied, allowing himself a bashful smile.

“Great. I’m just going to get you hooked up to the measuring devices and we’ll be good to go. Like I said, this won’t hurt a bit.”

Jenna made quick work of the patches, applying them to his forehead, his pectoral muscles, and his abdomen. John felt his hips jerk a bit when Jenna slid two under the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs to stick to the top of his hip bones.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized. “I should have warned you. That’s the last one, though.

“Okay, now we’re going to show you some images for the next 20 minutes or so. I’ll leave the room. You should just try to relax and let your body respond naturally.” With that, Jenna swung the display out over the bed, so that John had a clear view from his position on the bed.

For the next 20 minutes, the screen flashed with various arousing images. John now understood the need for questions about orientation, sexual interests, and fetishes on the screening form. The images started mild—fully clothed women in ordinary poses—but quickly got more and more racy. Soon, the women were wearing just lingerie, then they were topless, then fully nude. John’s body was enjoying the show, and his penis responded a bit, stirring in his underwear. Still, he was nowhere near full hardness. And every couple of minutes, John’s anxiety would creep in, and his dick would once again deflate inside his shorts.

The last five minutes of the demonstration introduced more explicit pornography. Women giving blowjobs, teasing hard cocks with their tongues, and getting fucked. The images hit most of John’s fantasies, and some that he didn’t realize he had. Just as his penis was approaching full hardness, the screen went black.

“Well, hopefully you found that a little enjoyable,” Jenna said as she re-entered the room. “I have to run the data by someone else on the team, but I suspect you’ll make a good candidate for the study.”

Jenna carefully peeled the electrodes off John’s body, before detaching them from the wires and tossing them in a bin to be sterilized.

“I’ll let you get dressed again. Once you’re ready, just pop by my desk out front so we can get another small blood sample, and make sure to sign out at the front desk. We’ll be in touch one way or the other, but like I said I think you can expect we’ll ask you to participate.”


It was less than a week before John got a follow-up call from the Institute. He was eligible for the study, and they wanted him to come by the next week for his “session.” He wasn’t sure what that meant, but they told him to make sure to block off the whole day. And they assured him that he would be paid the full study stipend at the end of the day, regardless of the outcome.

The rest of the instructions were simple. Make sure to get plenty of fluids and sleep in the days before the test.


John arrived at the Institute at 8:00 a.m. sharp on the appointed day. The reception area was empty, save for the receptionist, and John was again shown back through the double doors. This time, however, he wasn’t directed to one of the examination rooms, but back through an additional set of double doors, escort konak which opened into a brightly lit room. The room was empty except for a padded table with straps all over it. John couldn’t get the image of an execution chamber out of his mind, and his anxiety rose once more. Above the table hovered what looked like a giant box, roughly the shape of a human torso from the waist up, but with extra room in the head area. John shuddered, suddenly wanting to back out.

As soon as the thought went through his mind, a tall, gorgeous woman in a white lab coat strode through a door on the other side of the room. The coat went down to just below her knee, showing off her bare shapely calves, which were further accentuated by her black high heel shoes. The lab coat framed the woman’s face in a deep ‘V,’ but John could make out no hint of a shirt underneath. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she wasn’t wearing anything else under there.

“I know,” the woman said, picking up on John’s discomfort, “I keep telling them they need to make this room a little more inviting. I’m Claudia.”

Claudia extended her arm, and John shook it. As Claudia reached out, her lab coat pulled slightly away from her chest and John could see that she was, in fact, wearing a top. It was a tight-fitting white tank-top that framed Claudia’s ample breasts, which themselves were pushed firmly against the outside of the lab coat.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Claudia continued. “The physical restraints you see on the table are necessary to make sure we get accurate readings, but I can assure you there won’t be any discomfort.”

“I still don’t really know anything about what I’m supposed to do,” John replied, quizzically.

Claudia smiled, a hint of deviousness in her face. “That’s somewhat by design. While there isn’t really a ‘control’ group here, studying the brain is tricky business, so we try to make sure subjects aren’t overthinking it.

“It is important to tell you that your part in the study will involve physical stimulation by a member of our research team. I know that was listed on one of the forms you sign, but I did want to confirm that you’re okay with that.”

John’s face was flushed. “Um . . . yeah. I mean, I guess so,” John choked out.

“Great,” Claudia responded, blowing right past John’s apparent hesitation. She was used to reluctant responses at this stage.

Claudia continued, gesturing toward the receptionist, “we’ll leave the room, and you’ll need to remove your clothes. You can put them in the locker over on the wall.”

“My underwear, like last time?” John asked.

“Not this time,” Claudia replied. “It’s going to have to be everything. You can lie on the table when you’re done and just wait for our researcher to join you.”

With that, Claudia was gone, and John had time to register how truly crazy all this seemed. The forms, the medical pre-examination, the slick website, and the promise of payment had all made this seem like a very official scientific study. But were they seriously asking him to get naked and spread himself out on a restraint table?

Still, John felt it was too late to back out now. He hesitantly stripped out of his clothes, put them in the locker, and moved to the table in the center of the room.

John had time to study the table in some detail. It looked comfortable up close. It was about waist high on him, but appeared to be set on some sort of platform that could be raised up and down. The height looked like it would make it slightly uncomfortable for him to get on top of it, but after carefully moving the nylon straps that hung all over the table, he managed to hoist himself into position. Then he waited.

After what may have been a few minutes, John heard the door open. Claudia was back, and trailing her was Jenna—the technician he had met at his original appointment—and another young woman, maybe early 30’s. All three were wearing form-fitting lab coats, and approached John with purpose. He felt noticeably exposed, craning his neck to see the three fully dressed women approaching him.

“Okay, John,” Claudia grinned. “All set to go. We just need to get you restrained.”

Claudia nodded to her colleagues, and they quickly worked their way around the table, looping the straps around John’s ankles, thighs, stomach, chest, arms, and finally his forehead. John couldn’t believe the sensation. Apart from his fingers and toes, he couldn’t move an inch. After strapping him in, the women pulled small electrodes, like the ones from John’s examination, from under the table, and attached them to various places around his exposed body.

“To collect all the data,” Jenna winked, making a point to push her adorable face into John’s vision.

Finally, the women pulled the large contraption down from the ceiling, and John finally understood what it was. It fit almost perfectly over his chest, head, and arms, starting just below his chest. Once it was in place, the effect was to plunge John into darkness and near silence, as the box fit snuggly to the sides of the table to which he was strapped.

Without warning, a screen flickered dimly to life above John’s head. Claudia’s face was on the screen, and John could here her voice, apparently being pumped through speakers on either side of him.

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