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He shows up at the facility expecting quick cash for his cycling season, but the Handler and Dr. Lena have a different collection process in mind. Strapped into a rubber suit and locked to the chair, Eli learns his lean swimmer's body is the product—and the night's milking is only the beginning of what his prostate can yield.
Eli stands in the cold locker room, the rubber suit clinging to his lean swimmer's body as Marcus hands him the mask with its built-in gag. He hesitates, but the promise of cash pushes him to pull it
Eli presses the gag past his lips and the mask seals with a wet click, his own hands doing the work before his mind can stop them. Marcus guides him to the steel chair, and Eli sits, the rubber suit c
The machine's hum dies, and the rod slides out of Eli with a wet, reluctant pull; Marcus unstraps him and orders him to peel off the rubber suit, leaving him naked and trembling on the cold floor. Dr.
Eli pulls on his tight race jammers in the locker room, the cold steel of the cage pressing against his palm as he adjusts the waistband. He zips up, the fabric hugging his hips, and the cage shifts w
Eli peels the wet jammers down his thighs in the empty locker room, the cage cold and heavy against his skin, when Adrian's voice cuts through the hum. 'What the hell is that?' Adrian's fingers trace