Mason Jones was over the moon. Literally! Over the moon! Further away from Earth than the moon!
He’d been on the waiting list for space travel for years. And being on that list owned your life whether you were selected or not. You had to eat perfectly, exercise perfectly, regular blood tests, twice yearly check-ups, it was a whole thing. Only those in tip-top shape were allowed to even stay on the list.
As Mason watched the earth become smaller and smaller behind them, he marveled that it had only turned around twice since he’d been notified that he’d been selected for the mission. And not just any mission. The mission of the century. The maiden voyage for faster than light travel.
It had all been a blur since then. Something about him meeting a certain physical qualification based on his most recent test results. Something else about his predecessor dropping out. Their loss!
And now, he was here, in space!
Soon the ship was millions of miles away from Earth, in empty space, and it was time to start preparing for faster than light travel. And to meet the rest of the crew. In all the rush, they’d hardly been introduced. There were six of them altogether; the pilot, the co-pilot, the navigator, the mechanic, the researcher, and then Mason.
“So, uh… I don’t think they quite told me in all the rush, but what’s my role here?” From what they’d listed, they seemed to have it covered.
The rest of the crew shifted uncomfortably, except for the researcher. She was a black woman, late twenties, round eyes, button nose, and like everyone else on the crew, in impeccable physical condition.
The pilot, a Scandinavian man with blond hair and nearly clear skin, blushed. “They didn’t tell you?!”
Mason tried not to let his growing concern show.
“Guess they didn’t want the same thing to happen as with Dutch,” said the mechanic, a thick woman with brown hair and blue eyes.
“You’d better tell him,” said the pilot, looking at the researcher.
“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” the researcher said. “FTL is theoretically possible with a careful warp of the space-time continuum. Recent research has indicated that human consciousness is more multi-dimensional than initially expected. Desire is inherent to the existence of life and thought to be species agnostic, so the theory goes that with sufficient desire, an FTL jump to another compatible concentration of desire is possible. This will cause the space-time fabrics to collapse, allowing instantaneous transport over light years.”
The pilot shook is head and put his hand to his forehead. “Tch, in English, Kendra?”
Kendra tilted her head. “That was an extremely simple explanation.”
The mechanic sighed. “What the good doctor here is trying to say is that FTL apparently runs on sexual torture.”
“Say what now?” Mason said.
“This is why your predecessor dropped out last minute,” the pilot explained.
Mason tented his fingertips in front of his chin. He caught eyes with the researcher. “I just have one question. Is it going to hurt?”
“Only if you want it to,” she replied.
A shiver tingled down Mason’s spine and his growing confusion was replaced with a growing boner. He was beginning to understand which ‘physical qualifications’ may have resulted in his invitation.
“Well, I will do whatever I must to make FTL possible. I didn’t measure my alcohol consumption down to the milliliter for the past five years to let a little bit of sexual torture stop me from making space history. Let’s get to it. For science.”
And for the predicament bondage and sexual torture fetish that he was now sure the government had scraped from his browsing history.
The researcher had horrible bedside manner and that made the whole thing that much more thrilling.
Mason was taken to the center of the ship to a rig that comprised a body-shaped armature and a lot of bindings. He was sure that the space administration had spent millions of dollars engineering what was already available on the market as bondage furniture.
The researcher had already explained to him everything that was going to happen, and he felt quite excited. He could also sense the eyes of the rest of the crew, grateful but curious, and perhaps slightly judgmental of his enthusiasm. And, shameless pervert that he was, that turned him on even more.
His flight suit could not hide his erection as the researcher finished preparing the machine.
The researcher noticed. “It’s not that time, yet.”
“Yes, but a good service member is always prepared.”
“Hm.” She didn’t laugh, but she did seem amused.
Finally, it was time to strip and strap in. Mason’s heart pumped hot blood throughout his whole body, but especially to his member. He shed his flight suit and underclothes and then the researcher secured him to the frame.
She prepped a needle and an IV canister, and Mason looked away as she pierced his vein. This would be a mix of fluids, to ensure that he did not become too dehydrated, and a powerful aphrodisiac.
Even before the bag was empty, the drug started to hit Mason. It was an overwhelming surge of arousal and he strained reflexively against the bonds. He felt so hot, and so hard. And this wasn’t even the full effect.
Fuck, he needed to fuck something! His hips pressed against the bindings.
He focused on taking deep breaths to calm himself while the researcher finished her administration. He’d be able to go crazy with lust in just one more moment.
Once the IV canister was empty and the needle removed, she stepped around the front and swung another piece of the armature into place. It supported a cylinder aligned with Mason’s cock, and it looked quite similar to a masturbation sleeve he’d owned once.
As with the armature, he was sure that the space administration had spent millions — billions even — creating something that had been available to kinky consumers for decades.
But such thoughts vaporized from his mind the moment the cylinder slid over his over-sensitive cock. It was soft, textured and lubricated inside.
He moaned shamelessly at the sudden rush of pleasure.
The researcher moved back to the outside of the room. A series of concentric rings around Mason started spinning, though his part remained still. The researcher had explained something about the rings magnifying the effect and grasping the space time fabric, whatever that meant.
All he could think about was his body pounding his heat, quivering in an attempt to fuck the cylinder but held tight by his bindings.
Then the rings whirred to life and so did the cylinder. It squeezed around him, something near his frenulum vibrated, and he was totally overwhelmed with pleasure.
With the effects of the aphrodisiac, it was not long before he was moaning and panting on the edge.
But he knew, with profound and painful pleasure, that he was going to be on that edge for a very, very long time. This, the researcher had also explained. The space time fabric had to be given enough time to ripple.
He would orgasm when the ship made the FTL jump, and not a moment before. The armature was monitoring all his vitals, controlling the vibrations and the pressure in the cylinder, and it completely controlled his ability to climax.
The edge, the denial, the desperation aroused him even further and deepened his predicament.
After a few minutes at the torturous edge, Mason clawed his way back to thinking actual thoughts to give himself a bit of a respite. He found the researcher, watching him, and grinned wryly. “So, uh, who’d you test this out on before?”
“An adequate sample size.”
“Ohhh, so you’ve had quite a few blokes through your frame.”
“You’ll have a bullet through your head as soon as we’re back to earth if you make inappropriate remarks to me.”
“Right! S-sorry, just… not quite thinking… straight…”
“Please do surrender yourself to insatiable desire.”
Mason shivered violently. “T-minus… ngh… two or three edges and we’ll be there…”
“Would some visual stimulus assist your descent into sex-crazed madness?” Her tone was deadpan. But Mason would have sworn she was fucking with him on purpose… or maybe it was just him projecting.
“I, uh, daresay it might.” What kind of hilarious science porn might she have?
But then the researcher moved into the center of Mason’s field of view and unzipped her flight suit.
Mason gulped, arousal flaring hotter.
She grinned at him, letting him simmer in that anticipation. Okay, she was *definitely* also getting off on this.
Then, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her undershirt, starting to pull it up.
Mason quivered, every nerve alight with desire.
“For science,” she said, and pulled the shirt the rest of the way over her breasts.
Mason’s heart pounded, his breathing came in rapid gasps, the heat of the edge tickled at his base, the rings around him whirred with energy, but there was no release. No relief.
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” she teased.
Mason’s dick screamed ‘yes!’ but a quiet and steady part of him said, “O-only if you want me to…”
“What if I want you to be here, trapped, quivering on the edge until your brain melts into insanity?”
Mason’s hips thrust involuntarily against the bindings, every hair on his body stood on end, the rings whirred louder. His balls tensed, but he didn’t come.
“What if I don’t want FTL to work,” she said, slipping a hand down into her panties, “And I haven’t turned off the safety, and so I will do this to you over and over again until you’re physically incapable of arousal, and we’ll have to turn around and head back to earth?”
“Fuck!” The rings were whirring so fast that they became a blur, a transparent curtain between Mason and the researcher.
And then something shifted. Mason moaned with a deep pleasure. He felt his sense of self expand, he was aware of something outside the ship, something very very far away, and yet also right in the center of him.
Something was coming together. Something very, very important was coming together.
“I f-feel something…” he said.
“Give into it,” the researcher said, eagerly. “Let it call to you.”
“It’s calling… oh fuck, it’s calling… oh god…”
The researcher grinned, eyes wild with anticipation. “God can’t help us where we’re going!”
The pleasure of the edge was expanding through his body, but slowly, very slowly. As if it was carrying something with it. Like a piece of the space time continuum and the ship of six space goers trying to bust through it.
“I’m so close… it’s so close… oh fuck it feels good… I need it…”
“I want it…”
And this his breathing became deeper, faster. His body quivered. His cock throbbed with pleasure, his whole being buzzing with heat and anticipation. “I’m… I’m coming… oh fuck… I’m coming… I’m coming!”
The researcher slammed her fist on the intercom button. “We’re going!”
As the ship broke into the impossible space between space, Mason released his first thick spurt of cum into the cylinder. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through him, squeezing more cum out of him, as the ship passed through fields of strange energy and hurtled through space.
Then, finally, Mason relaxed and the ship came to a stop.
In a completely different system, on the other side of the galaxy.
They’d done it!
But Mason was too exhausted to celebrate.
The researcher came over and hooked up another IV canister for him, this time without aphrodisiac. “You did great,” she said. “Do you think you can do it again?”
As he let sleep overtake him, he murmured, “To infinity and beyond…”
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