The chief surgeon was initially startled beyond the composure expected of his profession when I masturbated to climax for the first time a year ago--prematurely providing him with the sperm sample he had planned to extract from me by medical means.
The electrical stimulation of my scrotum with a probe didn't appeal to me.
I borrowed a redundantly-inscribed beaker from the lab and brought it with to my private quarters where I stripped, manipulated my penis to full erection and stroked with mildly-lubricated hands until I swooned and ejaculated.
Due to the intensity of the first spasms, most of my ejected semen wound up on various surfaces of my quarters, but I brought the wide mouth of the beaker into position in time to collect what I supposed was a generous amount.
Enough to dissuade him or anyone else on the staff from collecting this fluid with electrial stimulation. DNA tests proved the fluid was all mine, but many on the staff were unwilling to take my word on faith that the sample I had provided had been produced from a single orgasm.
I was simulataneously disappointed that I had no real equal to allow me to relate to my unexpected virility and conceited that no other male in the organization no matter what his age or physical conditioning could match or hope to match my seminal productivity.
I made frequent inquiries as to the development of other genetically enhanced humans, only to be told the engineers had to watch my progress carefully before they went ahead and fashioned a subrace of supermen and superwomen.
The more time passed, the more I realized if I was to see more of my kind, I would be forced to produce them MYSELF!
To my frustration, the medical staff did not do anything more with my spectacular fluid than run tests and store small amounts in cryogenic freeze cannisters "for later".
Perhaps I couldn't produce them strictly by myself--going to natural route of sexual reproduction made more and more sense despite the fact the staff of the complex was %100 male. Not a single frozen human ovum was kept in the lab despite my numerous searches.
If one had, I would have certainly have used it.
Yes, the mating urge had hit me. And I was sure that just one session with a capable female would bring about a successful fertilization. The magnitude of my semen assured me this was not only possible, but inevitable and absolutely vital.
When finally they told me about Kiki Vale, I knew I had to arrange a meeting, no matter how vastly different our bodies were. The differences would only make the pooling of our resources more rewarding. In the meantime, the bio-engineers and cybernetic experts had created outlets for my sexual needs.
Their harem of fembots were tailor made for my lust, capable of mating with me in various positions while their interior cavities captured my ejaculations, only to flush the fluid later on like bodily wastes.
I used various means to save my semen, laying it by like medicine for "whenever". A mere week of coupling with the new fembots had awakened my augmented glands and hormones. When I grew tired of six hours of sexual activity, I cleaned and stored them, retiring to my quarters to have the latest scientific information insinuated into my subconscious in mute layers via cranial receptors.
I could shut these off when I pleased. And I frequently did as my interests with my reproductive system and capabilities increased. Well rested and inspired to an appropriate mood, I could, without the aid of fembot stimulation, pump out a total amount of pre-seminal fluid and spermatazoa-rich ejaculate to the 85cc mark on the beaker.
I never had an audience to these sessions, at least I didn't let it worry me. I used the swimming pool and sauna baths at the complex with the other males, unhindered by my nudity. I had been conditioned without modesty concerning my body and grew up without a qualm at being naked in front of others.
Evidently, it was not normal or natural, but somehow desired that males possess a phallus such as I had been engineered to grow.
I grew accustomed to the stares of the normal men as they evauluated my unique physique. Men new to the complex seemed always to be disturbed and distracted by the display of my phallus when I stripped down to swim or relax in the spa.
One thing I was certain of, not one of them had a set of genitals as large as mine even though I had the overall form of a child for far more years than normal. When I first measured my penis, both flaccid and erect, I thought little of the fact it spanned a full nine inches when dormant and slightly over twelve when ready to erupt.
This was at the age of fifteen, but as I should have stated already, my growth had been arrested for years and my resumption of normal human development slow and beind my chronological age.
It was generally said I looked (other than my genitals) like a "kid". The fembots which were presented to me as a birthday present when I reached thirteen, were the only toys I ever had to play with.
Every member of the medical staff as well as the support staff, revolving agents, cleaning crew, communications, engineers and undesignateds knew about the fembots, but they never touched them.
The fembots had non-discretely been made for my use. They were confined to my level of the complex and even then rarely ventured anywhere beyond the four chambers which comprised my unit.
Monitors 1 through 42 showed Agent Vale submerged in 50 fathoms of water, needing no specialized breathing apparatus other than the bulging pair of pulmonary sacs which were her most conspicuous feature. Having begun their lives as ordinary-looking female breasts, puberty had transformed those outward-thrusting hemispheres into dynamic, specialized organs which drew air from her lungs and contained remarkable volumes in a network of innumerable hollow cysts.
File images from still photographs to video segments documented her astounding growth over the years. To her, these genetically imbued features were little more than lures to sex-engrossed males of her aquaintaince, including the son of her adoptive parents.
That familial coupling had been the last act of sex she'd engaged in before ICU2 operatives were dispatched to claim her.
My own exo-dermal suit was ahead of Agent Vale's in design; I regarded with some conceited amusement at the crude "zip" fasteners which provided closure to her wetsuit--an outdated, unreliable design.
Hadn't ICU2 employed their accumulated knowledge of magnetism to invent fasteners which relied on more sophisticated means of sealing and releasing? We had moved far beyond rudimentary magnetism and had made reflex-action fasteners practical. With micro-sensors built into the suit and relying on the pulses of the wearer's nervous system to activate them, I could activate the personal safety measures built into the exo-dermal suit even with my hands securely bound!
In contrast, her "mission-specific" outfit was little more than an off-the-rack wetsuit, augmented only in certain places with specialty fabrics and expansion joints which were decades behind our simplest diving gear--and Agent Vale was designated a Super-Agent. Was this how ICU2 chose to equip their elite operatives?
They didn't realize her potential!
I did.
From the moment the ICU2-dispatched boat anchored over my installment, mobile remote cameras were swarming the sector, capturing images from all angles. The fiber-optic periscopes which were designed to rememble surface bubbles had done their work spectacularly. Long before she had gone into the cabin of the disguised fishing boat to change into her crude wetsuit, I had seen the outward results of one of the century's most daring genetic experiments.
In approximately sixty minutes, I would get to show Super-Agent Vale my idea of genetic superiority.
And I wouldn't stop with a mere show.
She was bringing me her body, and that was the missing element in my plans to dominate the world!
END OF PART ONE--whew!