Disclaimer: "You don't even own the air you breathe, sonny."

Author's Notes: This is where I explain how I screwed up in hopes that the reader will forgive me if I point it out in advance. I can also inject completely random, off-topic monologues here so the reader will think I'm an interesting person.

Hi everyone – my name is dratcat, and I have a masturbation kink.


His hormones were getting the better of him. He hadn't figured out a way to get rid of them yet, and besides, getting rid of them was not really practical. He would have to be on replacements for the rest of his existence.

Also, he had this preliminary test to complete.

His hand slid lower. There was the soft sound of skin on skin. He sighed. He found the slippery feeling of the cloth against his forearm very sensual. He doubted he'd be enjoying this as much if someone else were doing it.

He allowed his head to fall back against the back of the chair.

"Oh, yes…that's nice."

Were his mental faculties clouded yet? Hmmm…no…he could stop this now if he wanted.

He pulled his hand away from his erection and inspected the palm and fingers. He took a sniff, and carefully analysed the scent. Everything could be important here.

Perhaps he could get the brain to recall this particular musky scent if he completed the experiment successfully. He pondered ways of triggering the region of the brain associated with taste and scent without using electrical jolts. That would be difficult to do properly whilst in battle. Perhaps he should just manufacture the scent and put it into a vapour (vapour was convenient) – but that might affect people other than the intended target. Perhaps a liquid, ingested or injected…

But he was thinking away on tangents. He had a job to do right now. He glanced at the stopwatch, and frowned slightly. It had taken 41 seconds for him to get distracted, but not in the way he had intended.

He reset the timer, and continued.

First, he concentrated on the texture of the blackness behind his closed eyelids. He allowed the beating of his heart to lull himself into the right state of mind. The soft hum of the machinery around him slowed and steadied his breathing.

Fingertips played with the folds in his clothing, and slid underneath to brush against skin. He felt the light, fine hairs on his stomach grow gradually coarser as he swept the pad of his thumb downwards. The other hand, warm from being held closed, rubbed gentle circles over his abdomen.


He deliberately took deeper breaths, increasing his oxygen intake. Every movement his clothes made against his skin was a caress he appreciated. The air sliding down his throat felt like water. He felt like his body was awake and asleep at the same time, and his mind was aware of everything and nothing at once.

His thumb circled around the head, and he gasped. His head fell back against the chair once again; it felt too heavy to be supported by his neck any longer. He released a slow, heavy sigh. The hand on his stomach moved up to trace the curved bow of his throat, while the other wrapped itself warmly around his erection. He felt the moan in his fingertips, and he moaned again just to feel the vibration.

Sharp exhale. One quick pull and twist.

Slow, slow. Don't think about it. Let your hand do the thinking for you.

"Ohhhh, yessss…"

It was so good, but not enough.

"Come on…"

Hot gasps in the cool laboratory air.

"Come on…"

He felt every texture of his surroundings in every pore of his skin, he could feel the roof of his mouth against his tongue. Hard palate, soft palate, rub and slide. Sweat and heat pooling at the base of his spine. His hand pumped faster.

A whisper. "Please…"

Release, his body craved it. He was no longer capable of coherent thought.

His mind came to the recognition too late to prevent his orgasm.

He frowned as his breathing returned to normal.

When exactly had he lost control of his thoughts and actions?

He rubbed his thumb and forefingers together, feeling the texture of the semen which was quickly becoming sticky between them.

He couldn't remember. Drat.

What a waste.

His eyes flicked to the timer.


Well, that was nearly eight minutes of precious experiment time down the gurgler. Perhaps he should try again. Yes, a good scientist should always repeat his experiments for consistency. He would also need other test subjects – all male subjects would surely skew his results. Perhaps Nemu…but no. He would be better off testing more 'normal' subjects, obviously Nemu's results would not be average.

But who would volunteer…? Mayuri impatiently pushed that concern aside. He was sure there were plenty enough horny young men and women in Soul Society to satisfy his experimental quota.

Turning pleasure into a weapon was proving to be a most interesting challenge.