Treatment.

"Treatment?" I parroted, with an eyebrow lifted to the sky. Gesturing to the trussed up man, I asked, "And what kind of ailment requires... this form of 'treatment'?"

Dr. Owen's let out a tired, mournful sort of sigh. "Amos... is very much his father's son. It's an extremely rare testicular condition. Do you see that Beaker on the Table there?" She pointed at it, and I saw that it was about a quarter of the way full. "For an average man, it would have taken them maybe a day or two of regular ejaculations to have produced that much. But Amos and his father," she turned and gave him a proud looking smile, "can do that every couple of hours."

"I see..." I replied, nodding slowly. "And the... wrapping comes into play how, exactly?"

"Mr. McKay, you are familiar with the urges a man goes through when his needs aren't met, aren't you? And what he would do to have them sated?" Amos asked, still blinded. I answered that I was. "Well imagine then, what would happen if a man with my condition were unable to? Would he not be a menace to the public?"

"I... suppose so."

"Quite. And as such, my trappings are purely for the safety of the others," he shrugged. Somehow. "And I have to say, I quite enjoy it."

"Yes, but I have come to understand that, if the need should strike you, that one would simply need to approach someone, and... have that dealt with," I retorted.

He chuckled lightly. "Yes, that is how things are done here, but woe be to me, for I am a one woman man."

"Woe?!" Dr. Owens chirped, her head snapping in the direction of her son.

"I'm joking, Mother," he smiled. "You know that there is no one in the world I would rather be with than you." His smile turned into a grimace as his almost forgotten cock throbbed, a small stream of liquid pooling underneath. "Um Mother... it's starting to hurt again."

She let out a scoff, turned her back on him, and started to walk away. "So did being the butt of your joke, Amos. And for that, you will have to wait another hour before I come and relieve you."

I do not know how a Mummy would properly display panic, but Amos certainly made his best effort at his impression of one. "Mother, please. Mother, don't leave me like this! Mother!"

Ignoring his howls and pleas, Dr. Owens made to leave, and there was a look on her face, so plain and evident, that I could glean her real intentions. She did not intend to return until the day was done. Taking her arm, I stopped her in her tracks. "Forgive my impropriety at seizing you, Dr.," I whispered lowly and darkly, as she looked from my hand to my face, "but if he can forgive you for your earlier slight, you can forgive him his jest."

"I was led to believe that you were not fond of how we do things here, Mr. Mckay," she snapped, wrenching her arm free.

My frown darkened and I glowered at her. "I may not be that approving of this place's practices, but I do believe that healers swore to do no harm. Is that false now, O Physician?"