Tom couldn't move. And at this moment, he really did want to. He kept staring at that gun in Dr. Singer's hand. The smooth sleekness of it. The idea that something so refined could do so much damage. That something so sexy could kill.
Wait, did he just call a gun "sexy"? Yes, he did. And it was. The only thing sexier would be if a woman was holding it. She'd look so much more desirable. So much more fuckable.
"Get moving," Dr. Singer ordered, waving the gun towards the exit.
The movement of the gun sent shivers down Tom's spine. And then he fell to his knees and grabbed his crotch. He could feel his dick getting hard. Just thinking about guns was getting him hard.
Oh god! he yelled in his head. I've got a gun fetish!
Dr. Singer was at first confused, but after he followed his assistant's gaze to the gun he was holding, he understood. "Well, well, well. It looks like we just found your fetish. Want a closer look?" he asked, walking towards Tom and placing the gun on the floor in front of him.
Tom immediately grabbed it up and touched it, running his fingers over all the edges, all the grooves, the handle, the barrel, the trigger.
"But don't think you can use it on me. There aren't any bullets in it. I was just using it for show."
Tom was disappointed. He wasn't thinking of using it on the doctor, though. His mind wasn't thinking like that at the moment. He was just thinking about how much sexier the gun would be if it could actually kill someone. He trembled with sexual pleasure at the thought. It made him so horny.
Standing on the other side of the lab, Dr. Singer quickly wrote down notes, as he observed his first test subject.
