I'd been having a lot of problems with dizziness and even some numbness occasionally in my arms or legs and my PCP passed me to a neurologist.
Now neurology doesn't have all of the answers either, though I lucked out and discovered, because I was having an episode during an appointment, that I was apparently having TIAs.
So, from that, it was figured that something was causing a blockage of blood to small portions of my brain. That my blood pressure was way up at the time was not a good sign as well. I was laid down and an EKG taken.
It didn't look like I was having a heart attack, and most of the symptoms faded before they let me out of the office.
I had enough 'scripts for scheduled tests-- carotoid dopplers, lipid panels, MRI, MRA and even a sleep deprived EEG that I could have wallpapered my bedroom. My wife was not pleased, of course, but this was obviously something we would have to face.
Three weeks later I was back getting the results from my neurologist, discovering that I "have no real risk factors" for TIAs or strokes... but that they were happening. So I got passed to a cardiologist to study why my BP would spike the way it had. More blood tests, more EKGs, a full 24hour day with an Ambulatory Blood Pressure Monitor and then the stress test with myoview, a radioactive tracer.
Again, a clean bill of health. I was still having these disturbances but there was no discernable pattern. I got sent to a psychiatrist and a psychologist to hunt it down, too.
The standard answer, of course, was that I was suffering from stress, but there didn't seem to be much of a rhyme or reason for it. Over another three month period there were efforts at mitigation and accomodation at my workplace but I'd never really felt stressed there. My therapist Kate, though, finally asked a key question.
"So, Jack, how often do you have sex with your wife?"
I had to think about this and started counting on my fingers to figure out how long ago the last time my wife and I had had relations. Each time I ran out of fingers I pushed up the scaling factor; by the time I had an answer each finger and toe was a month. "The last time was about a year and a half ago, eighteen to nineteen months."
I think she was startled. The next question, "Well, how about oral sex?"
"Oh, I last went down on her about three weeks ago."
I was a bit embarassed and did not watch her face as she followed that up with, "And so she went down on you then? How often does she do that?"
That got my attention. "Her? Go down on me? You're kidding, right? She doesn't do that. She says it's degrading."
"So what does she do for you?"
This line of questioning bothered me, I was getting irritated by her sudden focus on my sex life. That I did answer her with "Well, she's occasionally tried to give me a hand job but she loses interest pretty quickly and it's really no fun. I usually just roll over and try to get some sleep."
"All right, Jack. How often do you masturbate?"
"At least three times a week." I could answer this one even though I understated the frequency.
"Hmmmm... and, Jack, have you looked at your episodes in relation to sexual activity?"
I'd apparently not paid much attention, but trying to tie them together was interesting... but difficult for me to do at that point.
"Jack, I'm going to ask your regular doctor to run some tests. I'll see you after they get run."
Well, so much for that. I returned home and then left for work. The morning's session had me irritated.
I was irritated that my PCP's office called me, letting me know that I was expected the next day.
After the obligatory intake at the doctor's office (weight, BP, pulse), my doctor handed me two lab test forms. "Jack, I hope you normally masturbate in the morning. I need this one taken as soon as possible on a day you haven't taken matters in hand and then this one as soon after you've masturbated as possible. Call my office to let me know when you've provided the second sample of blood."
I nodded, took the scripts, and got out of there. I was not eager to confirm anything so I didn't touch myself for three days. The second day I had blood drawn for the baseline.
Three uncomfortable days, with an episode the third night. The following morning I took matters into my own hands and drained the lizard, then stopped off for the lab test on my way to work.
At work I let my doctor know that I'd gone to the lab. I even let him know I'd had an episode the night before.
So work proceeded, I made it through the day. The next day was a Friday and I could look forward to a nice quiet weekend.
It was not to be, Friday at noon I got a call from my wife telling me the doctor needed me to call him right away.
"Jack, I got the results. We'll need some follow-ups. I'll need you in the office Monday morning."
Oh, well. No problem, I'd go.
Helen was wondering what all of this was about that night and was irritated when I claimed to not know. The week-end wasn't all that pleasant. I don't think she was comfortable that I was ill in any way.
My next appointment had me handed two scripts and an appointment card. One script was for more lab tests and the other for "physical therapy", the appointment card giving me a time and place. "Jack, I checked with your medical insurance coverage and this is covered. You'll go to the PT appointment on Wednesday morning, then you need to get blood taken. OK?"
I nodded, not understanding what was going on. The therapy script had a couple of codes on it that I'd look up. Later.
Wednesday arrived and so did I, at the 7:30AM appointment. They got my information, copied my insurance card, and got me started on a warm-up exercise. At least I'd been bright enough dress for exercise and carried a change of clothes.
I was soon run through a set of stretching exercises and brought to a massage table and told to strip and lay down.
Being conditioned through childhood for modesty I was rather resistant; the lead physical therapist Mike told me that Lisa, the masseuse, needed me naked for this procedure.
So I got the instructions, I was left alone in the room to disrobe, draping the towel across my buttocks. An odd part of the table presented itself, however; there was a hole in the middle and I discovered my genitalia hung down. This little surprise wasn't so bothersome because it was actually quite comfortable.
I was actually starting to relax on the table when Lisa walked back in. Once I saw who it was I just put my head down, and felt something placed on the middle of my back, just before her hands started on the back of my neck.
"Well, Mr Lipton, you seem a bit tense this morning, even with the stretching we got you doing. Just try to relax for me, I'm going to work on your legs first and work my way up to your arms. Are you comfortable right now?"
I was actually not completely comfortable, there being no really convenient place for my arms to go, and told her so.
"You place your arms on this set of braces here, and hold on to the frame, OK?"
This was easy and I discovered I could relax as she worked on my feet, directing me to just let her work and for me to release all tension in my muscles. She kept talking to me about my muscles and directing me on removing the tension there.
Please realize that Lisa was quite the model of a modern masseuse: even her muscles had muscles. She showed pride in having competed as a body-builder and I found myself both attracted and intimidated. I'd managed to submerge the attraction; I'd been married for a long time.
As I lay there I started thinking. One are I touched upon was that the world seemed to have four kinds of women: Those who were pretty all over, Those who weren't all that pretty anywhere, those who were pretty mostly below the neck, and finally, women like Lisa, who's body below the neck was not softly feminine but who had faces that could inspire wet dreams. Only by concentrating on how easily she could take me apart could I avoid getting an erection.
Even with that effort it was a non-trivial effort to keep my penis in a flaccid state. Between the massage and being told to unwind helped me to reach a fairly body-wide flaccid state; I started to feel like a rubber chicken.
It felt like I fell asleep but I knew I hadn't when I heard Kate's voice in the room with us. I was able to raise my head enough to look up and found her sitting in a chair by my head while Lisa was working my buttocks and thighs. By this time the towel was long gone and I was quite relaxed about it, feeling a little light-headed and disoriented. In fact, I must have been more relaxed than I would have thought possible minutes before, comfortable enough to not think about my nudity while Lisa's hands were working my body. Mentally, I wasn't "all there".
Kate addressed me directly, telling me to relax. "Jack, her hands feel good on your back, don't they? You're very relaxed right now. You feel safe, right?"
I grunted in the affirmative.
"Just close your eyes and lay your head down, we'll talk for a bit, but, first, just relax and rest some more."
With the sensations on my lower back, just above my pelvis, it was easy to close my eyes and drift. Both of them kept telling me to relax.
It seemed a timeless moment later when I faded more-or-less back in and realized something was wrong. I couldn't move my hands or feet and even my head was secured, a mask over my mouth and nose, providing a cool breeze. I could tell there were other restraints along with other unusual sensations that made little sense to me.
Despite the feeling of being "trapped" I also felt distant from the situation, which was odd. It was like I was aware, could feel some of the panic in my body but not be swept up by it. I felt like more of an observer than a participant.
Finding that there was something in my anus didn't sit well with me, either, given that I've always been anxious about my asshole. I kind of chalked that up to over-enthusiastic toilet training when I was younger. Another disturbing sensation was a rhythmic suction on my member. I could tell that I was hard. My testicles were another matter, too, since they were not escaping attention.
That I could not see anything of how I was secured would not help the situation; only the feeling of drifting kept me from a complete panic.
My first struggles did not go completely unnoticed, so, once I grunted, I felt a hand on the back of my neck, almost caressing me. I couldn't speak well, but I could hear my therapist, Kate, talk. "Jack, your doctor is concerned with your high levels of testosterone. That's the hormone behind your sex drive. Given the levels found in your blood it's amazing that you are even rational, but we need to see if we can drop those levels naturally enough for you to be comfortable. He does suspect that it has something to do with the BP spikes you've had. Now, it turns out that the sperm bank next door has an arrangement here to get donations and we've provided them your history. We'll take semen samples from you but it'll be up to you to sign off on letting them distribute it."
Talking was difficult with the face mask but I managed to calm down a bit and was able to ask "I hope you realize that I don't like things around my ass... and there's something in it. I don't like it." I could swear it sounded like I was whining.
"Just relax, it's nothing serious. There's a device set up monitoring your prostate, which, by the way, is quite healthy. We'll know when it's full enough. There's some gear massaging and cooling your testicles and the suction device is bringing you up to full excitement. There are a few extra steps to ensure maximum production of sperm cells and sexual response, but we're taking it easy, now. We have to avoid getting you to like this procedure too much, and, with your less than active sex life, this is not an easy line to hold. Now, let me ask you, what do you think about providing your sperm so a woman could get pregnant with your seed?"
My body responded before my voice, my erection getting even harder in the sucking sleeve it was in. Given the various sensations from that response, my voice barely managed a growling moan. She patted my head, "Very good. Think about someone, say, like Lisa, carrying your baby. Does that excite you?"
Yes, it did excite me. I didn't know why, though. I'd been a good husband for so long that I should not think this way but, regardless of my wish to suppress the response, another animalistic growl poured from my throat just before I felt a hand on my left butt cheek, squeezing it, and heard Lisa's voice saying "Really? He finds me exciting?"
Normally I try not to consider a woman's sexuality, so I tended to do my best to "not see" a woman any more than I cared to look at men. At that moment, though, my memories came back and I growled again. I wasn't completely rational at that point. I started to pant. Kate spoke over my head "If he didn't find you attractive he wouldn't have responded the way he did. He'd have to be dead to not respond."
I felt the hand on the back of my neck, stroking me and another hand on my butt, sqeezing it and rubbing my lower back and thought I heard a third voice, another woman, saying, "He's ready, fully charged, go for it."
"Jack", Lisa said, almost cooing in my ear, "imagine that you're coming in me, that you're knocking..." and I didn't hear the rest as my prostate gland emptied itself and I howled out my release, feeling the pulses as my seed was delivered to whatever was waiting.
I came back to more of myself afterwards but still felt my body being touched and carressed, the stimulation on my dick was gentle and kept me hard, and, despite my age, I could feel myself staying quite turned on. This time I heard the third voice for sure, saying "That was good, he did very well, both volume and density. I'll get it to the lab for evaluation while you bring him up for seconds."
The door opened and closed, leaving me with Kate and Lisa, my whole body-- with one key exception-- completely relaxed and limp. I felt them carress my back and tell me soothing words and I faded into a blissful doze.
My next awakening commenced when someone told me to. I wasn't completely awake but I wasn't dozing anymore as the sensations I was getting made sure I still felt like a beast waiting to impregnate a female in heat.
Looking back, I wasn't far from that. My second ejaculation was gentler, of course, but seemed to take longer. This time, though, I faded into more of a sleep, content with Lisa and Kate standing over me.
The animal within managed empty my prostate a third time. I was only awakened for a short time before fading back into sleep.
I woke up and could tell that I was no longer restrained but my muscles were still quite relaxed. Lisa was still with me and, with her encouragement, when I got just enough muscle tone to turn over I did so, despite my nudity. I discovered that Kate was still there along with a third, a tall, thin and dark-skinned woman holding a clipboard. My relaxation was so profound that I didn't get upset; it was hard to care.
"Jack," Kate started, "this is Ms. Burns. She's one of the staff next door."
The woman, rather severely dressed woman, seemed irritated with my nudity so I was glad to get the towel from Lisa and drape it over my male parts. I could see her visibly relax once my equipment, albeit flaccid, was no longer on display.
"Mr. Lipton, in order for us to bank your samples, we need you to fill out these forms. This is a donor form in case you would prefer to allow us to distribute your samples."
I looked over the two forms. I filled out the donor form; seeing the storage fees for semen almost gave me sticker shock. She soon left with the completed form, witnessed by both Lisa and Kate.
I breathed a sigh of relief until Kate reminded me "You will still need to give a blood sample, Jack. So, tell me and Lisa, how do you feel right now?"
I sat up and paid attention to the feel of my body. I could already tell that I was feeling content and relaxed, nothing felt irritating and, well, happier than I'd felt in years.
I told her that, adding, "I suspect the massage itself had a lot to do with it, not the other, uhhh, activity."
Kate smiled at me, with "As much as Lisa's massages would go a long way towards that, don't underestimate the comfort in having your testicles emptied, too."
I'm sure I reddened at this. Trying to retrieve some of my self-respect, I turned to Lisa with "I'm sorry I was so disrespectful of you earlier. I'd understand that having a lecher like me drooling all over you wouldn't be much of a turn-on, but, well, thank you for the flattery."
The look on Lisa's face seemed mixed up enough that I couldn't read it; she wasn't wearing any of the faces I'd learned that would reflect displeasure or anger. Before I could turn back to Kate, though, Lisa asked "But you'd have liked to impregnate me if you could have, wouldn't you?"
I finally looked down and up her body, returning to her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but yes. I'd like to have children of my own."
I heard Kate gasp so I turned to look at her, asking "What?"
"I didn't do the math. So the two kids you've been raising aren't yours?"
"Nope. There was a whole complicated custody issue and we were able to chainsaw a lot of it once we got married."
I sighed. I really needed to get moving. I was lucky the lab where I'd stop for the blood draw was on the way to work so I shooed the two women out so I could get dressed enough to get to the locker room, where I showered and dressed for work.
Kate had left the facility by the time I was dressed and ready to roll, but I saw Lisa at the front desk, where I was told that I had an appointment the following Wednesday. Lisa smiled at me, I smiled back, feeling a little better about the world.
I pretty much bounced into work with the best mood I'd had in months; this was apparently noticed as many of my co-workers greeted me, telling me that I looked good that day.
It's amazing what a massage can do for you.
That evening Helen noticed that I was in a pretty good mood too, commenting on it. "Just a massage after my physical therapy session this morning, Hon."
Thursday didn't seem as good as Wednesday had been; that morning I debated playing with myself and decided not to. I still managed to be in a reasonably comfortable mood but the level of contentment I'd had the day before was eroding. My evening at home with my wife was more subdued than usual and my sleep that night was still better than usual but not up to Wednesday night's standards.
Friday dawned, I didn't even think about masturbating, going at it in the shower without a second thought. While the morning was not going as well as the day before-- I'd gotten spoiled, I guess-- it was still going better than most days.
Because of the session Wednesday morning, Kate had changed our next appointment to Friday; I took a long lunch to make it easier.
"So, Jack, how do you feel today, based on Wednesday at lunch time?"
I sat back in the chair and thought, trying to balance my memory against my current experience, and had to answer "I feel, well, a bit tense, irritable, maybe even irritating to people around me. I'm not sure why."
"So, tell me about masturbation since Wednesday."
After Wednesday's session I no long blushed when the subject of sex came up. I related to her Thursday's thoughts and that I'd serviced myself that very morning. She smiled and reached out to punch a number in to the phone and I heard my doctor's receptionist answer the call.
This happened quick; my doctor was on a the speaker phone soon enough.
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Author: Jack C Lipton Title: Poison Control (incomplete) Part: Universe: Almost Reality Summary: Testosterone Poisoning Keywords: MF oral bond Revision: $Revision: 1.1 $ Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/CupaSoup/www/ Mailing List: FAQ: RCS: $Id: poisoncontrol.x,v 1.1 2003/11/28 14:55:48 jcl Exp $