Nothing. He's down for the count

For the first time since he had popped a boner in middle-school while giving a book report in front of the whole class—His grade eight teacher was smoking hot— John was embarrassed by his dick. Despite the fact that he was in a room with two good looking girls, who as far as he could tell, he could use as freely as he had his mother before he’d left for home, he couldn’t get his cock up. The smirk on Dr. Malia’s face showed she knew exactly what he was feeling.

The Hawaiian beauty reached out and cupped John’s balls in the palm of her hand. They overflowed and she could only properly hold one ball at a time comfortably. His limp dick left smears of pre-cum on her wrist as she juggled the large stones. Even flaccid it was a good six inches long, and thicker than most guys were when hard. “Something you have to learn, John. You’re now a member of a species that actually does have harems, and doesn’t just fantasize about it. You’re engineered to keep a large number of females purring for your cream. You have a big reservoir for your seed, and the ability to meter it out one shot at a time. Like lions do. You don’t have to dump the whole thing in one go. Not unless you want to wait for a couple of hours while some very eager kitties are sharpening their claws while staring at your junk and waiting for it to become functional again.” The fact that the feel of her hand fondling him was doing nothing in regards to stiffening his fallen soldier made more of an impression on John than her words.

“How do I do that?” John asked, trying to keep his voice in the low register as Malia closed her fingers around his ball sack.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a smile. “Looks like we’re going to have to do lots of experiments, and you’re going to have to practice a lot.” The next instant the smile vanished from her face.

“Don’t even think about it, Betty!” Malia snapped out as she glanced over at where Betty was eying the beaker full of John’s spunk, drool trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

“But you found out what you wanted to know. You know how big John’s reservoir is. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“That isn’t all I wanted to know!” Malia retorted. “I want to estimate his nanite density, how many varieties there are, and to try and isolate the components that create euphoria in his partners. Not to mention the slave bonding.”

“Slave?” John asked, his eyes widening with interest.

Malia hand waved off his question.“Not technically, but as good a term as any for what it did to poor Neal. I told you no, Betty!” Malia snapped again.

“Aw, but there is so much of it. You don’t need all of it. Do you?”

“You’re an addict you know. Bad enough you were stealing tissues from his wastebasket, now you want to chug a mug.”

“Wait, what?” John said in surprise as Betty’s face went red and she averted her gaze from his.

Malia looked surprised. “Betty didn’t tell you why she gained partial immunity to your sperm?” she asked.

“She said it was because of true love,” John said. He flushed a bit even as he heard himself say the words and watched Malia choke down a laugh.

“Not exactly,” Malia choked out. “Mind you, as far as scientific speculation goes that is as valid as the bullshit Betty pulled. I can’t believe it worked. I can only guess it had something to do with your nanit density slowly ramping up over the time she was doing it.”

“While she was doing what?” John asked as firmly as he could when the woman he was questioning had her hand wrapped around his sack. He glanced over at Betty who was very purposely not looking at him, and who’s back of the next was red as a lobster from the blush that colored her whole upper torso.

“You have to understand that Betty knew what you might mean to us from the first day she showed up to tutor you. She was curious. And there was your wastebasket, just chock full of used tissues. So she stuffed them in her purse when you went to take a piss, and later when she got home, she ate them,” Malia replied.

[I hope I can occasionally give my readers a chuckle. As wild and kinky as I want to make this story, I get as much satisfaction out of the idea of making the readers laugh as I do out of evincing other reactions.^_-]