Want to read my short story – bodybuilding.com forums exercises after hip replacement 6 months

After James lost his arm in the accident they replaced it with a robotic limb that moved according to a signal from his brain. An electrode ran from the limb up to his elbow then his shoulder, tapering into a clear thread that ended at the base of his skull. At first, James had doubts about how well the thing would work, but he woke up in the hospital bed after the surgery, in which the limb was installed into the bone of his arm, and waving the limb around, he was astonished to find the fingers moving just as actively as his real ones. He later learned that he could type quickly with the new hand, played guitar with it almost as well as he did before the accident and hit the heavy bag with more force than ever before.

Truly, it was unbelievable. Steph, James’ fiancée, told him that when she held the robotic arm, it felt like it was his real arm.


She said the warmth was there and despite the fact that she was touching metal and electric wires, she was convinced it was his real hand. James was so moved that he reckoned it was just as good or better than had he gotten his real arm back.

There was one problem. It wasn’t a problem at first, just a slight malfunction that did not cause him much inconvenient. It was 3:33 AM on a Saturday night when James was awaken by a feeling of friction. He lifted his head blearily and saw the robotic arm stroking up and down his bare penis. He willed the device to stop but it wouldn’t. He tugged on the electrode connected to his back until the pain darkened his vision but still the arm kept moving up and down. Despite his state of terror he eventually climaxed and that point the arm stopped moving, resting back on the mattress like nothing happened, the only clue to such a bizarre event was the white fluid caking the metal.

It happened again the following night. This time James had expected it and had gone to bed with PornHub open on the laptop. With the hand’s expert stroking and the video (one of his favorites) he climaxed in minutes. It was great, better than ever, actually. To him it was more of a feature than a malfunction, and he excitedly waited for 3:33 AM every night, to the point he hardly slept anymore.

The nightly unintentional handjob got James out of his failing relationship with Steph. He was no longer afraid being alone as his hand, the metallic concubine, did a finer job at satisfying his craving than Steph ever did. His habit went on for a year and a half before the excitement began to wear on him. He started a job at an oil rig in Arkansas and had to pull 12 hour shifts consistently. He woke up at 5Am and went to bed late at night, only to be woken up hours later, heavy-lidded with the hand smacking at his limp cock. As tired as James was, he just couldn’t will the thing to stop until he forced himself to cum.

It got so bad that he started to miss work and was let go three months later. He moved back with his parents. He met a woman named Carol and started to spend the night at her place. He was once again woken up at 3:33 AM with the hand polishing his foreskin. Carol laid beside him, stirring quietly as James wrestled for the hand to stop. He grabbed it with his other hand, the robotic hand broke his fingers to get at his penis and James screamed in pain.

He was making a scene so they had him removed from the lobby. He started looking online to find information about the arm. A link to the deep web pointed him to an unofficial firmware that he could upload to the arm’s kernel. He linked the arm up to his PC and updated the firmware. The arm then rebooted and that night James laid awake, sweating in anticipation.

3:33 AM passed with no activity. The arm was unmoving and cool. James was moved to tears that his trouble was finally over. He thought about Steph again and reckoned he’d call her tomorrow. In the morning he dressed nicely and took a trip to the store a buy some flowers. Walking across a parking lot he heard a suspicious whirring noise coming from the arm and the next moment the arm ripped off his pants zipper, closed its grip around his limp cock and started to stroke furiously at such a speed he’d never witness anyone can fap.

A mother and her young daughter stood nearby started to scream. Faces staring at him with disgust and hatred, and James, sobbing, dropped the flower and sprinted for the safety of his car. The arm no longer jerked him off at a certain time, now it happened randomly. He could be boxing in the gym and his fellow boxers would be wide-eyed and angry as they witness the arm pumping his cock, or he could be urinating and the arm would strangle his urinating cock like someone grabbing a rattlesnake, or he would be giving his nephew a hug with one hand while the other one worked up and down his shaft.

James’ father died that summer and he had to attend the funeral in tears, wearing a XXXL jumpsuit, while the hand squeezed a red wad of semen out of him. James looked at his father, laying peacefully in the coffin and he knew what he would do when he get home.

He stormed in the door and ripped off the jumpsuit. In two bounds he was up the stairs, chased by this new revelation. He opened the safe and took out the loaded shotgun he’d reserved for intruders but now would be used to kill his auto-masturbating hand. He sat down on the corner of the bed and held out his metal hand, in his other hand he held the grip of the shotgun, his finger curled unsteadily around the trigger.

The first shot missed entirely and ruptured the wood floor. James shouted in rage and aimed again. Suddenly the hand jerked like a facehugger in Aliens and James knew it was that time again. The hand scrambled like a spider across this thigh toward his cock. He forced it back with the shotgun’s steaming barrel, pushing it back to the corner where he could shoot it to smithereens, but the hand, propelled by the arm’s powerful mechanism, proved to be a strong adversary. It was on top of his thigh now and James, exhausted, heartbroken and angry, thought that if he could end his trouble with a small sacrifice, it would be worth it. So he pulled the trigger.

In the micro-second before the shotgun’s chamber registered the pull of the trigger, the hand closed around its barrel, pushing it off the course. The blast boomed like thunder. James cried out in victory before the gun smoke dissipated and he saw, with absolute terror, that the hand was intact and it was his penis that was shattered into a hundred pieces of skin and flesh. A graffiti of blood spread out from his groin, chunks fell and landed on the floor.

James blacked out then. He could hear the dull sounds of the ambulance siren and the voices. Someone was weeping, was it his mother, discovering him naked and violently castrated? He tried to think in the dark, and then he lost consciousness entirely.

He woke up to a sterile, white room. He’d seen this place before but he couldn’t remember exactly where, but somehow his heart quickened. A woman was sitting at the side of his bed and he had to think for a moment before he recognized his own mother. She was sobbing with her head down and didn’t notice him.

Then he remembered. It was the same place where he’d gotten his robotic arm. James screamed but the sound died in his throat. His watery gaze traveled south where, underneath the thin gown, a metallic bulge formed where his cock used to be. Shuddering, James lifted his eyes toward the digital clock at the far corner of the room. On it, the digits displayed like a sight from the gates of hell. It was 3:33 AM.