Fun removal

As the injection begins coursing through your bloodstream, both pain and pleasure cease entirely as your body goes numb from head to toe. The last few spurts from the researcher into the funnel begin to taste rather a lot like piss, which you drink down anyway, if nothing else but to clear your breathing. Even without the heavenly taste, you don't really mind the thought of drinking a more disgusting version of piss; you are so fucking aroused it still sounds fun. It just... isn't.

The researchers begin their battery of batteries on your horny body, you assume, mostly based on the sharp smacks and your movement from the impact. You wish desperately to feel something, anything, pleasure or pain, just to feel used. The moisture checker reports that you're wetter than ever, but you didn't even notice him inside you. Did he skip the elasticity check? You miss the elasticity check. The man looking you in the eye and calling you a "cum dumpster" is the only thing that still works for you, and it only succeeds in making you more uncontrollably horny.

"Perfect!" You father says happily as you writhe in unsatisfied frustration. He gestures to you proudly. "Exactly as we wanted it! Now with all motivation for pleasure gone, a potential piss whore remains my sweet innocent daughter."

Your father takes a small bow to a group of researchers listening to his speech while they politely clap. You notice their jackets say "FDA" on them.

"Now it's time for the stress test. We need to see how high of a dosage the antidote can protect against before the pleasure or pain turns back on. Since I don't want my little girl turning into a piss whore we gave her a pretty big injection, so don't hold back! She won't feel a thing. Just make sure to cum where she can drink it!" He winks at you as he says this last part, thinking you might be happy about a few bonus doses without even having to feel anything, but you want to feel it. You get even hornier at the thought of what they are about to do to you as they crowd around.

Your shoulders begin rhythmically pressing into the stockade and your head jostles as someone begins taking advantage of one of your holes, but you can't even tell which one. Loud smacks of skin on skin contact echo constantly through the room. You feel odd desiring so badly for something to happen to you that likely already is happening. You whine with need as several yellow streams begin filling the funnel at once faster than you could possibly drink, laughing at you with the occasional "miss" to the face.

You let your mouth fill and wince at the acrid taste of the piss. How much do you have to drink to beat the antidote? This stuff is just serving to make you more horny as you go, that's only making it worse.