Tampon Diagnostics The Remote of Transformation chapter 13 by ThePanswapticon

Back in Ethan’s room they spread the haul. Marcus tore open the condom box, inflated one like a balloon, and scrawled CONTROL across it in Sharpie. Ethan popped a Red Bull, then examined a tampon applicator under his work lamp.

“Question,” he said. “Do girls… like, get off putting these in?”

Marcus blinked. “No. I mean maybe some? That’s not the point.”

Ethan rolled the smooth plastic between finger and thumb. “Feels like wasted potential.”

He tried to insert one—bad angle, wrong muscles, laughter, more lube than necessary. The applicator clicked; the cotton plug seated; the string dangled. He stood, walked a circle. Weird fullness, not unpleasant. He bent, bounced. No change in clit contact.

“Tolerable,” he wrote down in his logs. “Would not recommend recreationally without mods.”

He tugged the string. The plug slid wet. He stared at the swelling slick wad in his hand and both boys cracked up so hard Ethan had to clamp his thighs to keep from another accidental orgasm.

They finally crashed at 3:40 a.m.—Marcus in the beanbag, Ethan sprawled across the bed, hoodie peeled, sports bra half off, bare breasts pillowed on one arm. He set alarms for 6:30 load‑in. The Morphisizer’s error lights still blinked red:

NEURAL LOCK ENGAGED.

REVERSAL REQUIRES ORIGINAL BASELINE + ADMIN CODE.

Admin code? He’d set one. What had he used? Something stupid. Something horny. His brain spun through possibilities—LilaFan69? RackAttack? T1T5L4B? He snorted, drifting.

Last thought before sleep: if he couldn’t crack that code by morning, he’d be presenting the most ambitious personal demonstration in science fair history.