Every other week, Mr Kane got invited to the clinic, most often after work, sometimes at the weekend. This time, however, they'd slapped the appointment in the dead middle of his lunch break. He considered rescheduling, but the earliest convenient evening slot the app suggested was five weeks away, which, for him, was just too long of a wait. He apologised to his colleagues, rushed to the clinic, tried to have a word with the receptionist – a new face and of no help – and, at the allotted time, let himself into the changing cubicle. He took off his coat and suit jacket and waited for Bill to greet him.
The magnetic lock to the release room clicked at twelve thirty on the dot. Mr Kane raised his eyebrows. Perhaps lunchtime was quieter – Bill was often fifteen minutes late in the evening. He put his phone back into his coat pocket, got up, went in, and stalled. A young man was wiping down the restraint table.
“Mr Kane? Good afternoon. I’m Evan,” the young man said.
“Where’s Bill?”
“Bill? The former operator? He’s got a desk job now, I’ve heard. General restructuring, if you see what I mean.”
Mr Kane stood frozen.
“Please hop on, sir. I’m on a strict schedule.”
He clambered onto the tilted table. “Strict schedule, strict schedule,” he said, loosened his belt, unzipped, and pushed his trousers and briefs down. “Bill took his time,” he muttered. Evan glanced at the cock cage and tapped his pad.
“No discomfort lately?”
“No.”
“Any new medications you’re taking?”
Mr Kane looked up. “No. Why?”
“It’s just that your file hasn’t been updated in a while. I’d rather make sure. Your arms and legs in the right spot?”
“Yeah.”
Evan adjusted the man’s left leg and tapped a side panel on the table. Metal cuffs folded over Mr Kane’s body and their rubber padding inflated. An arm between his legs gripped the cage and whirred and clicked as it removed the pins that kept it riveted to his anatomy. He sighed, stopped looking at his freed cock, and saw Evan squirting lube into a cylinder.
“That’s not, no, no no … Bill used pads.”
“Pads? That hasn’t been protocol for a while. Any reason?”
Mr Kane tensed. “I hate those cylinders.”
Evan put it back on the trolley. “Well,” he said and looked at his pad. “Nothing in your file about that. What did Bill do?”
Mr Kane closed his eyes. “Small round pads, one on either side of my cockhead, one somewhere around the base of my cock, on top, and another one behind my balls.”
Evan had to open four or five drawers to find pads and snapped on light blue gloves to apply them. “What did it feel like?” he said.
“Something wave-like. If that helps.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He untangled a bundle of wires he found in the same drawer and plugged them into the side of the table and into the electrodes. The table beeped and Mr Kane groaned. Evan had a look at his pad, watched the man’s cock bob – the arm swivelled in to steady it and catch anything it might emit – nodded, sat down, and busied himself with his pad propped up on his knees.
“This isn’t right,” Mr Kane said. “It’s too much. Too spiky.”
Evan swiped over his pad and changed programs until, after five tries, the man nodded.
“That’s it. More or less.”
“Not enough? Too strong?”
“I think it’s fine.” He closed his eyes and relaxed. “Yeah, I can do with that.” He smiled.
Evan looked at the time on his pad and at Mr Kane. The stimulation would stop in ninety seconds and none of the graphs showed he was close to release. An interminable minute later the predictions hadn’t budged.
“Sir,” Evan said.
Mr Kane opened his eyes. He was somewhere else. “Hmm?” he said.
“I can give you one more minute, but then I’ll have to stop. It’s incredibly busy this afternoon.”
Mr Kane’s eyes focussed in a snap on the sheepish operator perched on top of his lab stool. “What? Why? But Bill–”
“Sorry, sir, I can’t. One minute.”
Kane went straight to bargaining.
“Please concentrate, sir,” Evan said and blocked out Kane’s whimpering by focussing on his pad. For the last twenty seconds of the cycle, the man sounded hopeless and strangled. He kept humping when the table beeped.
Evan got up and peeled the pads off Kane’s purple-red cockhead. The man scrunched his face. The arm swivelled up, pressed Kane’s cock back into its cage, and, with a pneumatic hiss, riveted it back on. The restraints deflated and slid out of the way. Kane had to steady himself. Evan helped him, his pants down to his knees, to the changing cubicle.
He sat on the cot until the thought of having to go back to work took precedence, zipped up, and left. His phone pinged with his next appointment as he exited the clinic. He swore and went back in.
The new face at reception looked up from her screen.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “My next appointment is in six weeks.”
She asked for his name and a security code and checked his file. “That’s right,” she said. “Monday fifteen July, ten past twelve.”
“No, you don’t understand,” he said. “It’s never been that long. I come here every other week.” He struggled to keep his tone calm.
“I see,” she said, went back to her screen, scrolled, and paused. “Except, it seems like you didn’t drain today, sir.”
“Well, no, exactly. I can’t possibly wait another six weeks.”
“If you didn’t drain today you weren’t ready for a release, which means you have to wait longer. That’s how it works, sir, not the other way around.”
Kane stood there.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
“Sure, thanks,” he said and left.