Object of Interest

[Dream Big]

Just a little note before we get into it -- I'm trying something a little different here, but don't worry, queer stuff will show up eventually.
--------


It wasn’t the first time we’d fought, but it was the first time we’d gone to bed angry.

And it hadn’t gone away the next morning. Or the morning after. We grumpily crawled into bed and made perfunctory noises at each other, faced away from each other, and slept without cuddling.

This fight had been over dumb ordinary everyday stuff – money was tight and we were sharing expenses, and she saw some of my food splurges as extravagant. And I retorted that I needed protein and it was food and it wasn’t my fault that meat prices had gone up so much, but she didn’t need spa days and expensive hair and nail treatments.

It kind of went downhill from there. And honestly, she had a point – she worked in sales and needed to be super presentable, but I was just trying to hold onto my college physique and maybe build a little more muscle. But by the time I internally realized we were both working on our own vanity, but she had a slightly better argument for her hair and nails than I did for my 100g/day protein needs, it was already too late.

Then Melinda went to visit her friends – well, one cousin and two college friends – for the following weekend. It was at Gloria’s place, as usual; her family was loaded and had gifted her a very pleasant place to live just outside town in a pricey suburb. Every few months the girls would gather and spend the weekend together, doing whatever it is that girls do – “we window shop, drink wine, watch sappy movies, and complain about our partners”, she’d said. They’d collect her on the way home Friday and drop her off Sunday after dinner. I often managed to connect with my friends while she was away, but on this occasion the timing didn’t work out, so my big plan was to spend most of it riding my bike, playing video games, and sleeping. In practice, I had some angry jerk-off sessions to bad pornhub scenes, finished the latest Zelda game, and skipped my workouts.

I’d hoped the time apart would calm things down. It didn’t.

*****

I was dozing on the couch watching a Marvel movie when the sound of keys and annoyance woke me. My hand was down the front of my shorts and I hadn’t showered.

“I’m back,” she announced.

“Great,” I said, still grumpy.

She glared at me, clearly still grumpy.

“Mason, tell me you didn’t spend the weekend jerking it to Thor,” she said.

“Not to Thor, no,” I said rather snidely. “Tell me you didn’t spend the weekend telling the girls I’m awful and having them agree.”

“No, you’re pretty on target there. Judging by the mess, you made dinner?”

“Baked chicken, brown rice, veggies,” I said. “Just the cheap stuff, I didn’t break out a steak without permission. Wouldn’t want to be extravagant,” I snapped.

“Well, I *did* have a mani-pedi, but Gloria paid for it, so you don’t have to worry.”

She huffed and dragged her luggage back to the bedroom to unpack, presumably, but returned to the living room almost immediately. “Are those CUM RAGS on the table?”

“Yes…. I was about to clean them up.”

“You know, Gloria was right. You’re a useless horndog. Just good for sex and keeping the bed warm.”

“Fuck Gloria,” I said. Bitch had never approved of me, and I’d long suspected she was actively sabotaging our relationship.

“Her chances are better than yours right now,” she said.

“Look, I’ll clean up the dishes and stuff. I thought I had an hour before you got home.” She said nothing, just retreated to the bedroom.

We avoided each other for a while, and then at 11, I crawled into bed while she was still fucking around with her phone. No doubt complaining on the group chat.

My noncommittal “g’night” got no response.

*****

I had weird dreams that night, and I can’t remember any of them.

But when I woke up and opened my eyes, I had the distinct feeling I’d missed something important.

Melinda stood by the bed, fully dressed, giving me the stink eye.

“For fucks sake Mel, I said I was sorry, and I cleaned up. You can’t still be mad,” I growled.

“It’s not about last night,” she said, “or about the stupid argument the other day. It’s about all the other shit before that. I’m tired of the way you’ve been treating me.”

“The way I’ve….” I began.

“No. Save it for tonight,” she said decisively. “I have a meeting. But tonight, we need to have a long conversation.”

“Fine. But I get to talk too,” I said, “you don’t just get to yell at me and expect me to put up with it.”

She stomped out, and while she didn’t exactly slam any doors, she closed them with a bit of unnecessary force.

*****

One of the sources of friction was that I was unemployed, and hadn’t yet found a new job after the budget cuts at the VA hospital where I’d worked as an orderly. It was kind of tough work and paid shit, but there were benefits and I genuinely liked old folks. My favorite uncle had been in the army and I respected the folks who’d worn uniforms.

I’d been holding out for actual work that had benefits, or paid better, and nothing had materialized for four months. So I’d been focusing on getting into better shape, rather than wasting away or eating my sorrows. One of the vets had suggested I do personal training or physical therapy, but certifications cost money. Still, I was young and in good shape, and figured I could at least start a side hustle to help cover bills. Turns out getting into shape cost more than I’d realized. My savings drained quickly, but at least it was paying off in terms of physique.

Melinda worked in sales, mostly B2B stuff. Restaurant decoration and supplies, or something. She did okay, but things had been tight and I wasn’t bringing in enough. Which of course left me feeling like a shitty partner. The worst part was knowing why I’d been a dick, but unable to stop doing it.

I checked my email and some job sites, then hit the gym for a few hours, determined to burn off my own frustration via cardio and weights. Unfortunately I was late getting back, so Melinda was already home, and kind of pissed.

“So, what, you hid out in the gym to avoid talking?”

“Hello, honey, how was your day?” I snapped back sarcastically. “Can’t I even get in the door first?”

“Apparently not,” she barked back.

“Fine, talk,” I said. “Just do it while I eat.”

Ever try to pull out and reheat leftovers angrily while the person you’re angry at is standing in the dead center of the kitchen, glaring at you? Yeah, it really put the icing on the shit cake. But I was hungry and I wasn’t letting her make me miss my macros.

“For fucks sake, don’t you even want to fix this?”

“Fix this? I’m unemployed, we’re broke, you’re a bitch, and I’m a jerk.” The microwave beeped. “I’m hungry and I’m sore. Lecture away.”

“Unbelievable,” she said. “ I almost felt bad for this, you know. I wanted to give you a chance to ….well, it doesn’t matter now.” She sighed.

“Whether you know it or not, Mason, I didn’t really want this. But I really don’t think you’re going to learn any other way.”

I rolled my eyes as she pulled a small piece of wood carved with runes, and snapped it. “You have a great dick and a hot bod, but your fragile toxic masculinity got old fast. So I thought, how can I change you, really change you, so that the good stuff stays and the rest goes?”

I suddenly felt …weird. Tunnel vision. Vertigo.

“Gloria’s friend said this should do the trick. Guess we will find out.”

And then everything went dark.

*****

“Holy shit, it actually worked,” she said from somewhere behind me.

Light was streaming into the kitchen, but my perspective seemed off.

“Fuck,” she said. “Look at you. Are you awake?”

I tried to speak but couldn’t, nor could I move at all.

“Can’t believe I’m seeing this,” she said. And then something moved briefly in front of me and I was hoisted upright.

“I can’t believe it worked…holy crap!” She said. “You’re so lifelike!”

Lifelike?

“I’m going to pretend you can understand me, because if this works the way they said, you deserve to at least know what’s going on here. What you are, at least for now. Stand and follow me.”

I was moving, somehow, following Melinda into the bedroom. “Stop,” she said, and pointed at the full-length mirror on the closet door. “Take off your clothes and look at yourself. You need to understand this.”

I saw myself, or rather some semblance of myself, in the mirror. But it was more like an idealized version of me, like a video game render or something. I looked damned good, my muscles well defined and bulging, along with my dick. My hair was tousled perfectly, I was manscaped and tidy, and I looked healthy….but also a little unreal.

“You aren’t a person, Mason, you’re not even a living thing. You’re a sex toy completely under my control. And you will remain so for three months.”

Three months!?

“You don’t need to eat or drink or shit or sleep. You’re jacked and won’t need to hit the gym.”

And then she grabbed me by my junk and stood me up.

“But THIS”, she said, “this dick is going to get a workout. Get hard now,” she barked.

I was instantly hard! My sturdy not-quite-seven-inch cock lurched almost painfully erect.

“Go soft,” she said. And sure enough, my noodle drooped.

Fuck that was weird. Not quite as weird as the look in her eyes.

“Your foreskin is growing back,” she said quietly. What? But I was cut, like most —

I felt my foreskin slide across the head of my cock like a turtleneck. The sensation was completely new to me and quite arousing, but my body wasn’t reflecting my mental arousal. I wanted to look but apparently I had so little autonomy that I couldn’t even bend my neck without her say-so.

“Fuck that’s hot,” she said. She came closer, now confident in her absolute control. She reached a delicate hand out and stroked my now uncut dick.

“No pubic hair,” she said. And it was gone. She stroked the smooth skin around my junk, enraptured.

“This is fucking amazing.” Then she placed a hand on my chest. “No breathing, no heartbeat. You feel real enough…”

I stood there, helpless, as she took stock of my body.

“I wonder. Let’s see you if you were a little more defined, maybe five pounds leaner,” she said. The fat melted off me as I stared at my reflection. She paced around me like a tiger stalking prey. “Another five pounds leaner.”

I began to panic. I was a passenger in a body that increasingly drifted from what I knew to by my own. I was just barely 6 feet tall and weighed in at 191 as of that afternoon - probably 2-3 pounds below my normal, because I hadn’t eaten dinner and fully rehydrated.

Now I was 181, apparently, but I’d become cut and defined in a way I’d only hoped to be.

“You’re too hairy. Reduce your body hair by about half,” she said. My body complied, and soon I was much sparser. The chest and belly hair that had gradually gotten thicker now resembled what it had been in my teen years.

She petted my belly, and whispered, “let’s see those abs.” I flexed involuntarily, but my abs had never lent themselves to visibility before. I had decent core strength but like most of the guys I hung with, I’d been more concerned with beefing up my chest and arms. But now I was a lot leaner, and the layer of unavoidable pudge around the middle had melted away completely. You could see them, but they weren’t nearly as impressive as the rest of me.

“I’ve always liked abs on a man,” she said. “It always annoyed me that you never got those washboard abs that really turn me on. But guess what? You now have the abs of a gymnast. Like those guys in the Olympics who work the rings.”

I was already competition-level lean, but I felt something shift as my midsection firmed up considerably. My abs popped as an enviable six-pack emerged, along with all the nice side cobbles, and an Adonis belt carved itself in.

“You were always pretty hot, Mason, but now that you’re my toy, you’re going to be my goddamned fantasy. Do you like what I’m doing?”

I did, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Plus I still couldn’t move or speak.

“Oh, of course. Can’t talk, can you? And I kind of like it that way. Let’s do this, then. Your dick can show how you really feel, without all the back talk and sarcasm. So it will get hard if you like what’s happening, and if you don’t, it’ll go soft.”

Did I like what was happening? No! I hated it! I hated not being in control!

But apparently my dick knew better.

“Interesting,” she said. “Not that it matters all that much.”

For the next several minutes, Melinda played with her toy — me — like she was creating a video game character with some decidedly non-PG options. She returned my dick to its usual cut state but continued to tweak me. Tighter butt. Softer skin. More compact ball sack. My nondescript brown hair streaked itself with gold highlights and got shaggy like a surfer. I still looked like me, but an increasingly idealized version. Every so often she would revert something, confirming that the changes could be undone, but she continued to refine my look. I could smell her arousal.

Fifteen minutes later she stopped relentlessly editing me and took stock of her work.

“Goddamn, you are so delicious looking,” she said huskily. “Time to take this hot rod for a test drive. Follow me to the bedroom, my little sex toy.”

*****

 

[Tphilatl]

Wow this is hot. I hope we get to hear about his full 30 days.

 

[Dream Big]

She had me strip for her, and lay down on the bed. And then she disrobed, tossing her clothing — and her soaked panties — onto the floor. She climbed into the bed and straddled me, her steaming pussy radiating heat. It was hot. I idly wondered what sort of bullshit magic was making my body function. If I had no heartbeat, and wasn’t breathing, how did my dick get erect? Where was the sweat coming from?

“I’ve always liked your dick, Mason,” she said. “So I’m going to enjoy it for now. But I have some very naughty ideas we are going to explore later. Now get busy servicing me — eat my pussy like a pro, until I’m squirming, for a start.”

Honestly, it would be pretty fair to say that saw cunnilingus as a bit of a necessary bit of prep than something I really enjoyed. Not that I wasn’t decent at it, I just didn’t love it. It often made my tongue and neck tired, and the smell and taste wasn’t always great. But that no longer mattered; I was licking and biting like a pro ad requested, and with another word or two, my tongue was suddenly longer, more dexterous, and tireless.

Shit, it was a LOT longer. Like, lick your own eyebrow longer, which would have made talking pretty rough, if I could speak. And I never needed to come up for air.

When she began to moan and squirm, I just stopped, and she gasped, momentarily confused. Blinking, she realized her instructions had been completed.

“Mason, I want you to make love to me like you used to. Use all your skills,, but follow my lead. Except you won’t care about your own needs, just mine. Getting me off is all that matters.”

My body moved on autopilot; I was a passenger at best, too mentally aroused to put up any psychic resistance to her absolute control over me. I felt weirdly detached, but also….I could feel everything despite not controlling it. I could smell the scent of her body, taste the tang of her juices and her sweat, hear every heartbeat and moan and gasp, and feel every shudder and twitch along her soft skin. But I couldn’t direct my vision, so I saw only what my body was concentrating on pleasuring at the moment. It was as though it was running on a single track, replaying the greatest hits of our sex life together.

We had never really needed to be kinky, honestly. The sex had been regular, attentive, and immensely satisfying from the start. Vanilla suited us, helped by her great tits and ass and my big dick. It was only fairly recently that we’d drifted apart and that emotional drift had swept our sex lives along with it. Before the argument, we had gone from daily to weekly and our horny days didn’t always match up. I realized, even before this, that it was a toxic combo of natural aging, emotional distance, and boredom that had laid the groundwork, even before the job and the money and all that.

My moment of enlightenment came in the first few seconds of this session of autonomic lovemaking. And then, I felt only with my regrets and frustration, even though I was wallowing in a sea of inescapable physical arousal. It is profoundly unpleasant to feel the physical side of things but to be denied the emotional and mental side of an orgasm. In fact, the sensation was so overwhelming, my mind shut down.

*****

Some number of hours later my consciousness returned, and it took a moment before I remembered my situation. I was still a prisoner.

I still couldn’t control my body, but I slowly began to sense it again. And something didn’t feel quite right.

“Hell yeah it worked,” Melinda’s voice said from somewhere nearby. “It’s fucking amazing. No, I don’t even know if he’s conscious. Does it matter at this point?. Huh? No, I can change pretty much everything. I think he’s even sexier like this, you know? I don’t know if it’s a power trip or what but fuck I like it. Heh, maybe. Maybe you should come over and find out! Oh shit, I need to go, I have to finish getting ready for work.”

Okay, so it was Monday morning.

“Open your eyes,” she said, firmly. And of course my body, or whatever she’d made of it, complied. She smiled, a little cruelly I thought.

“Get up so you can see what you’ve become,” she said. I felt my body obeying, standing in front of the closet mirror. The results of her editing were clearly visible.

I looked sort of like myself as AI might render me, all lean muscle with a somewhat overbuilt chest and crazy abs. There was definition, but no body hair and no blemishes, and the net effect was something like a romance book cover. My prick was girthy and still incredibly firm, even though I wasn’t aroused. It was probably about seven and a half girthy inches of quite veiny cock flesh, and the only thing that still looked familiar was the shape of the helmet.

My face had been refined, with a more firm jaw and objectively nicer cheekbones, increased symmetry, fuller lips. I wondered if my tongue was still insanely long and flexible. My hair was thicker and more lustrous, a pile of thick wavy chocolate locks that put my unruly brown mop to shame. And that’s when it hit me; I was shorter.

I was normally about 5”10” but now I had lost several inches at least — maybe I matched her 5’7”, but after her comments I guessed I was likely shorter than her now.

“So, my little boy toy, what should I do with you while I’m off making sure the rent gets paid? After all, you’re a toy. Mine to control. Let’s see how far that goes.”

She looked into my probably vacant eyes and gave me instructions.

“Mason, you can move, but while I am gone you are not to leave the house and not to try anything that might reveal yourself to others. Instead you will make yourself useful and clean the hell out of this place. And then you will make sure dinner is ready when I get home around 6. Just do one of those crockpot things and a salad. Only answer calls or texts from me. Then wait for me by the door until I come back.”

And then she leaned over as if to kiss me, possibly out of habit, but caught herself, and left without another word.

The minute she was out the door, I suddenly had control again, and I ran to the door, intending to throw it open and flee. But of course, I couldn’t even grab the doorknob, and instead found myself derailed into the kitchen.

Ever do a mundane task so often it’s like entirely muscle memory? I can make egg white omelets in my sleep, and in fact I’ve made more baked chicken breasts than I cared to consider. That was what it was like to find myself walking calmly but briskly into the kitchen and pulling out the things I’d need to make a crockpot meal she liked, but completely unable to control anything I was doing.

This was one of those crazy recipes that involves cream of mushroom soup from a can, a bunch of protein, a pile of frozen veggies, and rice….i made rather short and efficient use of my prep time, dumped it all in, and set a timer. Then I began aggressively tidying the kitchen, scrubbing down every surface like it was contaminated with some deadly plague. Then it was on to the bathroom, which I left so clean you could eat off the floor. Then the living room and bedroom. Trash and clutter was decisively poured into large garbage bags and I was embarrassed by how much of it I was clearly at fault for. Bills, sorted, laundry started, dishwasher running. The garbage bags would have to sit in the corner for now since I couldn’t leave.

I noticed it was after 2pm, which meant that I had a good four or so hours before her return. Occasionally my phone would bloop but I couldn’t answer or even read the texts because I’d been forbidden from sharing my presence with anyone. Other than another load of laundry — we’d done a number on the sheets. By 3 pm, I could find no issues with the state of cleanliness, and no sooner had I reached that conclusion than I found myself standing motionless by the door.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything since this whole weird thing began, and I wasn’t even remotely hungry. Hadn’t had anything to drink either, nor had i needed to use the toilet. Toys don’t eat or drink, of course, so why would they pee or poop?

But I wasn’t just a toy, I was me, Mason!

But then, Mason wouldn’t have been able to do all that housework without breaking a sweat, or gone a full day without food or drink.

Other than occasionally stirring the crockpot, I had nothing to do until 5:30, other than wait by the door, so that’s what I did. Inside, I wanted to play video games or something, but I seemed unable to get myself to go anywhere. I was able to set an alarm, so when 5:30 hit, I turned and went into the kitchen to prep the salad and set the table.

Melinda’s key hit the lock at about eight minutes before six, and I was standing immobile by the door.

“I smell dinner,” she said. “And I see things are just about ready. So I’m going to freshen up and then I’ll eat.”

A few minutes later, she returned, having changed into comfy sweats and tee shirt. I was still by the door.

“Oh, Mason, time to serve dinner,” she said, “ but I see you’ve made an error.”

What? What error? I’d made a crockpot casserole she liked, and a salad, and I’d set the table perfectly. Water was poured at room temperature waiting for her. I could see nothing wrong.

“You’ve set two places,” she said, “but only one of us needs to eat, isn’t that right?”

I approached uncertain, but then packed up the other place setting. And then I filed her bowl and set it in front of her.

“Better. After all, you’re a toy, not a person. At least for now, right?. Oh silly me, you can’t even answer.”

*****

 

[Dream Big]

After she ate her fill, she made me clear away the dishes and package up the leftovers. With only one person eating, that crock full of food would last several days, and half of it went into the freezer.

“It was a bit of a shit day, thanks for asking,” she snapped, suddenly. “We lost a big account, and even though it wasn’t my fault, just guess who got stuck helping clean up the aftermath? Like I don’t have enough work meeting my own quotas…ugh,” she complained. “Luckily, I have you to take out my frustrations on.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but what choice did I have?

“Yes, something I can really take out my aggression on. If I had a dick, I’d just fuck you raw until I nutted. That’s how you boys think, right? Then you sleep like babies. I wonder…”

She grabbed me by the dick and pulled me closer, and closed her eyes. I could feel my cock growing in her hand, not thicker, but longer and longer, till there had to be nearly 20 inches of cock in her hand. And then she twisted her hand sharply, and pulled.

A wave of emptiness and an odd breeze drew my attention downward, where…my dick was gone, with a round hole where it once stood. In her hand, a massive double ended dildo slowly formed from the cock she had pulled from me. With another thought, straps formed midway down the veiny monster. Her face shifted from fierce concentration to delight.

“Oh fuck yes,” she moaned. She slid one end of the dildo that had been my own cock into her own pussy, shuddering as more than 9 inches shoved into her.

“Bend over. I want that ass, plump and ready to take me.“. I was doing it almost before she finished speaking. My ass felt weirdly wet, and I realized that I was producing lube in my own ass. Guess that’s what she meant by “ready”.

Have you ever been fucked in the ass by an enhanced version of your own cock, which has been transformed into a double ended dildo strapped onto your significant other? No? Of course not.

It’s a trip. I wouldn’t say I was looking for that experience, but as a sex toy, my wishes and expectations didn’t matter. Not even a little bit.

Melinda needed to feel in control, and her aggression translated into a vicious, angry fuck. Weirder still, I could feel — but not properly enjoy — the entirety of the double ended dildo as it filled both of us in unexpected ways. She was 10 inches deep in me, and her strap on was 9 inches into her weeping snatch.

Safe to say it was new for both of us. But while I could feel the sensations, they didn’t translate into any feeling of pleasure or pain. If I had to describe it, it was like when you’ve had your mouth numbed by the dentist and you forget and bite your cheek. You know it’s happened, and intellectually you know it’s supposed to hurt, but it doesn’t actually elicit any actual pain.

Not what you expect when you’re being fucked.

*****

Looking back, Melinda had some serious unresolved issues with her job boundaries, but it’s just as obvious that she had personal boundary issues too. Well adjusted people don’t do what she did to me.

By the time she had exhausted herself through me, she’d changed me even more. My body had contracted still further, refined itself into a smooth, exaggerated, male shape. I suppose since she couldn’t grow herself to feel powerful, her toy needed to do the job. So my tight little 5-foot body looked like a romance fantasy cover; largely hairless, idealized into pecs, abs, and ass that she enjoyed. But I was emasculated despite that, with a strange empty hole and a cock that was now a disconnected double sided dildo, which was apparently also a pretty high end vibrator.

She had actually passed out while fucking me, again, with my own cock-dildo. And the minute she did, I was essentially switched off, like a robot or something. My body didn’t need to respond anymore, because she had instructed me, in the throes of passion, to “just fucking lay there and be fucked until I tell you otherwise”. Except apparently that didn’t apply to my detached cock-dildo, which was still buzzing away in my ass and her cunt.

And so it did for the next several hours. I couldn’t turn it off, and I wasn’t really getting any enjoyment out of the damned thing buzzing away inside me. Because of the deadened sensation and absence of pleasure/pain, it was more of an annoyance than anything. But I could hear it. And feel it, even if muted and unsatisfying.

Finally she woke, grabbed the midpoint base of the dildo, pulled it out of her snatch slowly as she shivered and came again, and then unceremoniously jammed it back into the hole where it had once lived. Still buzzing.

And then she left me there as she used the bathroom. When she emerged, she crawled back into the bed, but hesitated before she pulled the covers over the two of us.

“It seems weird to cuddle with a sex toy,” she said, thoughtfully, idly tracing the contours of my hypersexualized body. “What should I do with you? Perhaps I should, I don’t know, fold you up and put you away?”

I could tell something had shifted, but had no clue what she’d done with that statement. Until she began to fold my arms and legs into unnatural positions. I was almost like a transformer, and she seemed to instinctually understand how to shift me from a fun-sized sex object to a squarish, rather mechanical looking rectangle roughly the size of a carry-on bag. Somehow the pleasing bulges and planes of my body had folded into blocky, jointed analogous parts. And then she shoved me out of the bed and onto the floor.

She rolled over and fell asleep pretty quickly, but of course, I was denied that relief. Compressed like this, I could still feel the vibrator locked even more firmly within me, but could no longer properly distinguish the sensation. My eyes remained open and unblinking, and in the process of folding me up, my face had wound up bent up against the buzzing business end of the dildo, for the next three hours until she had to get up for work.

She surveyed my current predicament. “Look at you, folded up like that. What was I even thinking? Can you unfold yourself? Hmmm. I suppose my toy should be able to do that when ordered to. So do it — unfold yourself back into my little stud muffin sex toy.”

Utterly at her mercy, of course I did. Felt just as weird too.

“Clean up the room while I’m gone. Wash the sheets and change the bed linen, too. Then wait for me to come home.”

*****

Several more days passed, I think. It was hard to tell, because it was gloomy and rainy outside, so there wasn’t much difference between day and night, and I wasn’t eating or drinking or visiting the bathroom. I had no real needs and no ability to even attempt to fulfill them.

Each morning, Melinda would get up, get ready, and instruct me to wait for her. If we’d made a mess I’d have to clean it first. So I basically stood waiting by the door for hours on end.

She drank a smoothie each morning, so there wasn’t anything for me to do for breakfast, and she ate lunch at the office. After those first two days, she was tired of the crockpot casserole and opted to eat dinner out. Apparently she was working late on a big account, but after the third or fourth day she only really discussed it if she wanted to vent about something. I couldn’t respond, which suited her just fine for the most part. She used me like the sex toy I was, and pretty quickly I resigned myself to having no agency in how she did things.

She’d come home late, change, occasionally demand I pour a drink or make a snack, and then she’d use my body until she grew tired. She seemed fond of folding me up after she was done, saying that she liked how compact I became for storage.

If she was angry, she’d find ways to release that frustration on me. A bit of amateur psychology suggested that her lack of control at the office translated directly into imposing her control on me. I literally controlled nothing for myself. But it’s one thing to know that intrinsically, and another to have it demonstrated in every interaction.

As the time passed, I grew more isolated. She didn’t leave the tv or radio on, and I had no way to relieve my boredom. She went three or four days without ever saying a word to me, and two whole days without ever letting me leave my waiting position by the door. But my body didn’t care, my muscles were fixed in place, I didn’t need to stretch. Some days she left me so altered it was barely even my body.

My mind wandered, rotating through real and honest personal retrospective, considering what I could have done to justify this fate. I’d never cheated on her or abused her. I couldn’t see any justification for it, as we’d never argued much beyond typical relationship challenges. I had no clue how my absence had been received, or whether my friends and relatives suspected something was up. At very least the gym would have noticed my absence.

I think it wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had something to do, but the place was pretty clean, and I wasn’t there making a mess anymore. The place was eerily quiet, and our neighbors were rarely home, so there was nothing to break up the monotony, other than Melinda herself, and it was almost like she was avoiding me.

*****

 

[laptoper]

I always enjoy your very high level of imagination and creativity. Thanks!

 

[Dream Big]

Thanks! I actually finished this one before I started posting it, so it’ll be interesting to see how people react to it now I know where it’s going.

 

[metabods]

Just a nice nuance, the fact that he's getting a bit shorter as his attractiveness is honed really works for this part of the story.

 

[Tphilatl]

I hope there is some revenge in store at the end of 30 days. He may be a deadbeat slob but the gf is a bitch.

 

[Dream Big]

I tried to make it clear that their relationship isn’t in a good place at the start, and that the blame is shared. The bad communication isn’t entirely anyone’s fault, in my mind.

But there is such a thing as taking things too far, and clearly Melinda has done that. As for the consequences of her actions…. Well, you’ll have to wait a bit.

Also, not for nothin’, but I often find myself caught up in the mechanics of how the transformation stuff happens, and I wanted to NOT do that this time. I’m not focusing on it in the story; Mason doesn’t know how he is transformed. Instead I wanted it to be more about the reality of being stuck in a dehumanizing situation and what you make of it.

 

[Dream Big]

Just a nice nuance, the fact that he's getting a bit shorter as his attractiveness is honed really works for this part of the story.

There is definitely a reason for that, as well as a bit of a metaphor.

 

[Dream Big]

One evening she stumbled in well after midnight. Clearly drunk.

“Guess the fuck what?” She shouted as she burst through the door. “I fucking nailed it, and I got the account. Fuck Henderson for trying to take some of the credit, the boss shut him down right the fuck away!”

Henderson was a coworker, apparently a smooth talker who seemed to weasel his way into “helping” with big accounts without actually doing any real work. He’d been a frequent source of her frustration over the last few weeks (weeks? Weeks? How long had it really been?). One remembers such details when one has been fucked while their partner shouts “fuck you henderson, take it, you bastard”.

“Instead, the boss wanted to know the secret to my incredible fucking focus and dedication. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him it was you,” she said, slurring her words a bit.

“Because a fucking sex toy was just what I needed. As a boyfriend you sucked, you know? But you were hot and had a good dick game. You were just a pain to share an apartment with. So this situation is working out pretty well for me.”

She pulled off her clothes in a perfunctory way — this was not a strip tease for my sake, she just wanted them off. And she grabbed me again by the dick (currently it was ten thick inches, as we’d left it that way after last night) and pulled me over to the sofa. “This, your ass, and those muscles were always your best features. I certainly don’t miss your stupid chatter about gains and reps, or your excuses for why the place was a mess or the money was tight.”

She yanked me down until I was kneeling in front of her. Usually this meant I’d be on pussy duty, but something felt different now.

“Well, why the fuck shouldn’t I get what I want? What I deserve? No, I think things are better this way.”

Better this way? But I thought I was just stuck like this until I’d learned my lesson or something?

“I have the next couple days off. So tonight we are going to celebrate my win with some good sex. And tomorrow, we are going to pack up your things.”

What?

*****

That night, in her drunken passion, she did some crazy shit to me. She inflated my dick to some surprising proportions — 14 long, 8 around, veiny as fuck with a huge helmet hear the size of a lemon. I found myself turned into a sort of sex chair. At one point she detached my massive cock and slowly filled my face with it. Then my face was completely gone and my mouth became something like a fleshlight.

In the morning she instructed me to empty my clothes from her closet, and then put them into large garbage bags. After rearranging the bedroom closet, she told me that I still had space in her closet.

“Sex toys don't need clothes, Mason. They just need a place to be kept, and that’s yours now,” she said, pointing at a space roughly the size of a bit of checked luggage. “Unless I say otherwise, this is where you’ll be when I’m not using you. Folded up and out away.”

*****

Any hope I had was gone by the end of that first week. She would come home and transform me however she wished, use me for sex, and then fold me up and stow me in the closet next to the shoe rack. I was even more isolated, feeling less a person than I imagined possible. She stopped talking to me at all after that, but as she thought of me as an object now, she became less guarded on the phone, and I began to piece together some of what was happening in the world beyond the bedroom closet.

Melinda apparently told people I had just disappeared one day. That I’d stormed out with my stuff after a fight, and she hadn’t heard from me in weeks. And they just believed her. But maybe that was part of whatever magic or high tech crap had turned a living breathing fallible human into a sentient but helpless sex toy.

For some time I wondered about the physics, the logistics, of my situation. What even was I? Silicone? Plastic? Nanomachines? Was I also some kind of android? I seemed to have pliant skin and she never complained about my flesh being hot or cold. I didn’t think there were motors inside, so how did I move at all? I seemed to be self cleaning, and she hadn’t specifically washed me. My actual size, my mass, seemed to fluctuate at her whims, on demand, so where did the material come from or disappear to? Why could I sense things but so muted?

She often talked to Gloria, and one day I heard them discussing the situation.

“He’s not going to suddenly reappear, is he? It won’t expire or get switched off somehow? Okay, yeah I imagine he would be pretty pissed if he got restored. Is it even an option now?”

But I didn’t hear the answer.

*****

As the weeks turned to months, and I spent most of every day folded up in the closet, I began to lose track of the hours. I was occasionally told to accomplish something by a certain time, and then my body seemed to know what to do and when to do it just fine. But my mind was increasingly little more than a very bored passenger. She increasingly took to just detaching my cock and using it as a vibrating dildo a few times a week. I guess the thrill of owning me got old after a few months. Or maybe she was trying to move on. As a sex toy, I was still useful to her, though, and those few nights a month when she used me became the only thing to look forward to.

With me officially out of the picture, and her career on the rise, Melinda took less and less notice of me, folded up in the closet. Eventually she brought someone else home, and as I sat bored in the closet, I realized with a shock that the Eddie she was flirting with in the other room was none other than the Henderson she’d been complaining about.

Apparently he finally got called out on his shit by their boss, and he was forced to actually work for a change. On the surface, he talked a good game about wanting to change, owning his prior behavior, all that. I knew that song pretty well and saw right through it.

But his physical charm apparently still worked well enough that he finagled his way into Melinda’s pants, eventually. I couldn’t see them, but he had a pleasant voice and he sounded like an overconfident college boy more than anything else. Cocky, but kind of vulnerable somehow. She fell for it. I learned also that he apparently had a pretty nice cock too.

“Impressive,” she said. “I was worried you were all talk.”

“Nope. That’s a solid 11 inches,” he said proudly. “Bet your ex couldn’t beat that.”

“Not without a little help,” she said coyly. “But enough about him, let’s see if you know how to use that meat bat.”

Apparently, he had a pretty good idea, if the appreciative noises that followed were any indicator. Figures Melinda had a type.

What almost hurt wasn’t the effective cuckolding, but that I couldn’t be sure that she even remembered at that point that the sex toy in her closet was her ex.

*****

 

[Tphilatl]

Great story but liking her less and less and she’s damn right he would be pissed. Not sure why she just didn’t kick him to the curb. I agree they were both at fault but damn she’s outright cruel. Can’t wait to see where this one ends up. I’m 100% invested in this one - Great job!!

 

[Dream Big]

*****

It wasn’t long before Henderson was a regular visitor, and that led to a new discovery.

One day while she was in the shower, his phone buzzed and he answered it right away. From his side of the conversation, I soon understood that he was cheating on Melinda. At least I’d never done that. Whoever the caller was, he whispered a quick “love you” before Mel was done in the shower.

A few days later she was chatting away with Gloria, talking about how she really needed to move to a better place. From the sounds of things, she was doing very well indeed, so my image conscious owner felt the need to have a home worthy of her new status.

The time slips, for me, were becoming harder to recognize as it all became a blur. I wondered if my mind would finally atrophy. I kept losing any sense of time at all. Maybe I’d eventually stop trying to be anything more than an object.

*****

“I wonder,” Melinda said suddenly, “if I can make this thing match Eddie’s cock?”

She had opened the door and unfolded me, pulling my dildo cock out of the sheath. In her hand she held a smooth tube, which she frowned at.

“Barely any definition now. Guess I left it sit too long. Kind of sad, I can barely remember what Mason’s cock looked like. Gloria’s friend said that might happen. What do you think, my little sex toy? Do you have any of Mason left?”

I wasn’t all that sure, if I’m honest. But of course she wasn’t expecting an answer. I could barely remember what I looked like before. I kept getting confused with the stylized sex toy version Melinda had reshaped me into for months before locking me away. I was still reeling from the sensation of my face and eyes in the light again, since my folded position had my eyes on the interior. (I’d spent weeks with unblinking eyes looking at nothing more than smoothed-out flesh colored walls.)

She concentrated a bit, remembering how to exert her control over my shape, and then the smooth tube revised itself a few times before settling into a shape that wasn’t at all familiar. For one thing it was a much darker skin tone, and bulged thicker in the middle. The head was hidden within a foreskin but since I was still linked, I could sense a more torpedo shape to the tip.

“You really are miraculous,” she said. “So much more interesting and useful this way.”

At least she was using part of me, even if she’d turned my dick into her new lover’s fuckstick. The muted sensations of her Eddie-shaped vibrator shoved into her cunt was the most stimulation of any kind I’d had in ages. I could almost feel my mind waking up a bit, remembering the feeling of participating in sex of my own volition.

*****

As she grew used to Eddie’s presence, he began to press her to “expand her sexual horizons”. Apparently he had a kinky side and felt it was time to share that with Melinda.

For all his faults, Eddie had never snooped around in her bedroom, so he had no clue about me.

“What did you have in mind,” she asked him.

“I don’t know, maybe some roleplay? Some toys? Light bondage?” He said hopefully.

“Are you bored of me?” She asked, playfully.

“God no, but variety is good, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to explore a few kinks, if you’re game.”

“Pegging?” she asked.

He sighed. “If that’s what you want to try, I’ll try it. What about you? What are you putting out there?”

“How about we take turns with my fancy dildo,” she suggested. “That seems fair.”

“You have a fancy dildo? This cock ain’t enough for you?” He grinned. Or at least I assume he did. With some guys you can hear it in their voice.

“You’re not always around,” she laughed, “a girl needs options!”

“Fine.”

“No peeking,” she said, “a girl needs her secrets.”

Melinda reached into the closet, partly unfolded me, and slid my cock dildo out. As she did, it reshaped again, growing longer and thinner. It wouldn’t be a challenge for her, at all, but I was pretty sure she intended it for him.

“That’s…pretty aggressively big,” Eddie said.

“Think of it as a challenge,” she purred. “I know I can handle this, can you?”

“Um… look, I’m open minded, and I am game, but that’s pretty big.”

“It’s only a foot long,” she said. “It’s not that thick really. But that’s not what makes it special.”

“What makes it special?” He asked.

“You’ll have to play along to find that out.”

“Fine, but you’ll need a lot of lube.”

There was a squelching sound and a shivering moan from Eddie, and then she gently but persistently slid the thing in just a bit. I felt the usual muted grip at the tip.

“Jesus, give a guy a chance to adjust!”

She worked at it for a while, gradually opening him up to welcome more of the dildo, until he was more or less comfortably taking a good seven or eight inches.

“Fuck that’s deep,” he moaned.

“This isn’t your first dicking,” she said. He said nothing.

“Naughty boy. Only a few more inches to go.”

“Fuck, me,” he moaned between breaths.

“As you wish,” she said, and then shoved the last four inches in. He made a very high-pitched gasp and then moaned as she slowly moved the dildo in and out.

For me, it remained a somewhat distant sensation. I definitely felt it, my dick sliding into an ill prepared but thoroughly lubricated hole, the way the passage tightened around the obscene length, the way the edge of the helmet slid past the knot of the prostate, the twitching answer of the sphincter trying to close around the intruder. But it was as though the cock had been wrapped in thick tape, or numbed somehow. Muted, much like my voice.

After a few moments he could take no more, and spurts of white hot come shot from his own considerable dick, and he essentially relaxed, almost deflated.

“Whew!” He wheezed. “Can’t wait…heh, to do that,” he panted, “to you…”

“But I haven’t shown you the special feature,” Melinda said.

“See, it does this,” and she enabled the vibration. He gasped.

“…and this,” she said. The shape changed again, eliciting a loud moan from Eddie, as the footling dildo became a thick butt plug.

I’ll say this for Melinda: after twenty minutes or so, she relented and allowed poor Eddie to orgasm properly. It sounded messy. And when he was fully drained, she made the vibrating butt plug return to being a dildo. She pulled it slowly out as he shivered and panted some more, and ineffectual phantom spurts dribbled from his tired cock, accompanied by tiny halting gasps.

“Jesus that was intense…” he breathed.

“You did okay,” she said, fondly. “But this is how it’s done.”

And with that, in one stroke, she shoved it into her own snatch. It was more familiar ground to me, and hardly a challenge for someone who routinely sized my dildo-cock up to 14+ inches, much less a lady who entertained herself with stimulating extras.

“Damn, woman,” Eddie said, honestly impressed.

“It’s modeled on my ex’s dick,” she said. Of course, he had no way of knowing it actually *was* my dick.

*****

 

[Dream Big]

*****

This session continued for some time, but I had no ability to enjoy it, so I tried to tune it out. That act had become slightly easier over time, but it required me giving up my only real source of experience. However distant the sensation was, it was at least something. But if I’d ever toyed with the idea of playing cuckold, the sharp reality of it was definitely not something I actually liked.

Every so often she would subtly adjust the dimensions of my member, and had been inventive enough to add some sort of control buttons to it. Probably wise as it kept Eddie from realizing the truly flexible and fluid nature of the size-changing vibrating dildo in his hands as he thoroughly worked Melinda’s pussy with it. He finally found the right spot and motion and triggered a very loud orgasm from her, and then she pulled it out and they lay there panting.

“This thing is pretty wild, where did you get it?”

“Special gift from the ex,” she said.

“It must have cost a pretty penny,” he replied.

“It was cheaper to keep around than he was,” she said, “and a lot less troublesome.”

“Brutal! Guess I better make sure I earn my keep,” he said, laughing.

If only he knew.

*****

 

[Dream Big]

Great story but liking her less and less and she’s damn right he would be pissed. Not sure why she just didn’t kick him to the curb. I agree they were both at fault but damn she’s outright cruel. Can’t wait to see where this one ends up. I’m 100% invested in this one - Great job!!

There's a line in Terry Pratchett's Discworld books that springs to mind. Like many of my favorite quotes from his stuff, it's a Granny Weatherwax one.

“There’s no grays, only white that’s got grubby. I’m surprised you don’t know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is. "

“It’s a lot more complicated than that . . .”

“No. It ain’t. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they’re getting worried that they won’t like the truth. People as things, that’s where it starts.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are worse crimes . . .”

“But they starts with thinking about people as things . . . ”

 

[Dream Big]

Basically, I think at some point (probably post-job-loss for real, but creeping in before that), she began thinking of him as her hot boy toy, and it kind of steamrolled once he wasn't contributing effectively to the relationship, and as her career took off.

 

[Tphilatl]

Thanks for the clarification. I sure hope this is not the end for him. I would think the mental toll is a going to break him and as he said there’s not much of himself left.

 

[Dream Big]

Some time went by, with occasional use, but I got the feeling that things were continuing to go well for Melinda, and apparently with Eddie as well. She spent fewer nights at home, and apparently was getting her needs met pretty well without requiring me. Every so often she would use me for kinky stuff with Eddie, but he remarked at one point that it made him feel weird using a replica of her ex’s cock. I bet she regretted telling him that, but by that point I wasn’t all that bothered — not that my feelings mattered in the slightest.

It occurred to me that it was a little strange that it didn’t make me angry, or sad. Just a little sense of loss, and a lack of purpose. My days and nights ran together so much when I wasn’t in use, it was hard to linger in such emotions. I didn’t really feel much of anything very strongly. I drifted in and out of awareness for a very long time.

*****

Then one day, there was a commotion outside, multiple voices and the sound of several people invading the apartment.

“Right, let’s start with the furniture. Unpack the drawers into the boxes, then move the furniture out,” said a brusque male voice. “Clothes go right into the bags, but anything electronic, collectible, jewelry, or remotely valuable needs to go in these tubs and get inventoried. I have a list of specific things they want set aside.”

I wondered what was happening with Melinda, but my curiosity was soon satisfied.

“So what happened here?” One of the workers was curious too.

“I dunno, some accident or something. Her family arranged this, so we have a list of personal stuff to look for. The rest will probably get sold off.”

Oh. So she was dead, or badly injured.

“She was a looker, huh? Check this out,” he said. A few whistles of appreciation followed.

“Is this the fiancée? He ain’t too shabby either.”

“He didn’t make it either. Imagine that, two good looking folks like that, gone in a heartbeat.”

“Wasn’t there another couple? I think I heard about it on the news.”

“Yeah, her cousin or something, and her girlfriend. I think the car went off the road into a ravine.”

“Shitty way to go.”

“Yeah.”

“So who’s paying for all this?”

“Her folks, I think. Most of it’ll go to charity.”

No surprise. Her folks were pretty cold and mercenary. If they were donating it was for the tax write off. But they’d grab anything really valuable.

But that meant that everyone who knew what had happened to me was now dead. As I speculated, the closet door was flung open.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Someone asked, and I felt my body being yanked roughly out of the closet. “Weird texture. Looks like….oh shit, Charlie, check this out!”

“The fuck? It’s some kind of sex toy, I bet. Or maybe some fancy costume?”

“Feels pretty solid, like really good silicone. Weird way to fold it up, though. Heh, the dude’s dick is in his face!”

“Kinky shit, if you ask me. Look at the dick on that thing!”

“What should I do with it?”

“You know the rules. Any sex stuff we aren’t told to find, they don’t usually want to know about. Remember that guy with the sex dungeon?”

“Seems like a waste, this shit has to be expensive.”

“Im sure, but I don’t want to touch someone else’s sex toy. Look, I don’t care if she was into kinky shit. But nobody wants to know their dear old maiden aunt was secretly into horse dildos, right?”

“Guess not.”

“So ignore it for now, or keep it, you sicko. It'll probably wind up in the dump.”

*****

But as it happened, the guy who found me decided it would be a waste to toss an expensive sex toy, at least not before he figured out what the hell he was dealing with. Maybe I would wind up in a pawn shop, or listed on Ebay. For now, I wound up quietly stowed in his trunk.

Some time later, he lugged me into a garage, and onto a tarp.

“Come on, unfold,” he said. So of course I did.

“Whoa. Like a goddamned transformer. Are you a robot or something?”

He unfolded me into a sitting position, muttering as people sometimes do when working with inanimate objects. Of course, as he muttered, my body adapted; he would say something like “huh, looks like this part bends this way” and find it was so.

Once I was unfolded and upright, I could see my new owner decently, especially once he wiped the debris and dust off my face.

He looked like any blue collar suburban dad; maybe 45-50, greying hair, stubbly beard, a body shaped by equal parts physical work and beer. He looked friendly, and his expression was one of wonder.

“Man, I knew that lady had to have money but those custom sex toys are supposed to cost a few grand. This one looks like he’s in perfect shape, just needs a little sanitizing. Wonder if he’s based on a real person?”

He tapped at his phone for a bit, apparently looking for something like me. Then he left and came back with a bucket of warm soapy water and some microfiber cloth, and began to gently clean me.

After months, or possibly years, of disuse, it was almost a relief to have someone taking good care of me, even if I was stuck as a toy.

“I can’t get over how lifelike you are, man,” he said, presumably for his own benefit. “And that cock is huge! Gotta be a foot long! Puts my average little six-inches into perspective…”

Eventually he was satisfied with his cleaning and then had to figure out what to do with me.

“It doesn't feel right to sell you,” he said. “Plus I’d be an idiot to let you go for under a couple grand, and how would I explain where I got you? Oh well, no rush I guess. Maybe Danny?” And so he laid me flat and put another tarp over me.

*****

 

[laptoper]

Intriguing possibilities

 

[Dream Big]

Some time later, I heard another voice, apparently talking on a phone.

“Yeah, dad, I’m there. You said my present is under a tarp? Oh wait, I see it I think.”

The tarp pulled away to reveal a handsome young guy, maybe early 20s, fit and well dressed. He had dyed blond hair and big blue eyes, and he looked surprised.

“Um, dad, what the hell is this?”

I couldn’t hear the reply, but I could see the roller coaster of emotions flow past the boy’s face as he processed whatever his father was saying.

“Wait wait. I know you love and accept me, it means a lot, but why on earth did you think it was cool to get me a real doll?” He asked. “Or whatever this is. Yeah, it’s kinda cute. Yes I noticed that, it’s huge, of course I noticed.”

“Yeah, Jasper was a mistake. And Tony, I know you never liked him. No, I’m not particularly lonely.”

Then a longer pause. “Yeah, I mean you’re right I guess. It does seem a shame to toss it, but it feels kinda weird getting something like this from you, you know? Fine, I’ll keep it for now. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Of all the embarrassing things that man could pick…” he approached cautiously. “I guess you’re mine now, huh?”

Then he touched my skin.

“WOW, so lifelike…” he followed the lines of my arm, then onto my chest and torso. “Warmer than I expected, too.”

His hand found their way to my cock. “Damn. That is a very very nice dick, man. I wonder if you’ve got a fleshlight as your rear port?”

If I hadn’t, I certainly did now. Something shifted in my ass as his fingers approached.

“Shit. Okay, good one dad! Maybe this thing is worth keeping after all…”

*****

“Now how am I supposed to get you upstairs? Maybe you aren’t as heavy as you look. Though you can’t be THAT heavy, you’re not all that tall,” the boy said. He managed to hoist me over his shoulder, and then confirmed that I wasn’t as heavy as he’d initially guessed.

Because of course, I wasn’t, not once he’d told me that.

He plopped me into a chair next to his bed and looked me over appraisingly.

“Not bad,” he said, tracing my chin. “Man, if you were real…you’d be almost exactly my type. Wonder if dad has me figured out after all?”

He turned his attention to my cock. “Fuck that’s a big dick, nice balls too.”

Then he ran his hands around my naked butt. “But that ass looks pretty fine too. Bet it feels amazing inside.”

“Whoever you were modeled on was pretty hot,” Danny said. “Even though you’re a bit stylized. Can’t fault their taste.”

It was at this point that I realized I was responding to Danny as my owner. He’d changed me in very small ways already. If he realized what he could do with me…

“I wonder if you have a name or a model number or something,” he murmured, inspecting my neck, my lower back, the soles of my feet. “I feel like something this cool should have a manual or a website or something.”

“I don’t even have a clue how folding you up works. You have to have some kind of skeleton, or you’d fall over, and you seem to stay in position when I move you. It’s remarkable engineering. And the skin is so lifelike…”

Come on, figure it out….

“Shit, I better get going,” he suddenly said, shaken out of his exploration of my body.

And I was alone again.

*****

But I wasn’t alone for long. A few hours later, Danny stumbled in and I could tell he was drunk.

“Fuck Tony and his new fuck buddy,” he grumbled as he began stripping. “He’s a fucking tease is what he is.” He angrily tossed his clothing in the general direction of his closet, until he was just wearing boxers.

“I can’t believe he got me all riled up only to spring that hung twink on me. What am I supposed to do with this boner now?” He yanked the boxers off to reveal a nice average cock, probably around 6 inches and cut with a nice shape to the head. I guess I’d had my own cock turned into so many different shapes by now I was becoming a connoisseur.

Then, his pouting face spied me, and he got a strange look in his eye.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said. “Why the fuck am I chasing Tony when I have something better right here?”

He grabbed my arms and pulled me over to the bed a little awkwardly, and bent me into position kneeling against the bed. Then he knelt behind me, angling for a better look at my hole — apparently now a fleshlight?

“Fuck, it’s so realistic,” he said, probing the pucker with his finger. He pulled my ass cheeks apart, and moved in for a closer look. Then he reached for the lube in his nightstand, and squirted a bit onto his finger before smearing it on the opening. His finger slipped right in.

“Whoa,” he said, feeling around with his index finger. He added another, then gently prised them apart. I could feel that muted stretch, but like my existence since this all started, there was no pain. “Shit, you’re going to fit perfectly, I can just tell…”

And a moment later, he planted his rock hard dick against my silicone pucker and pushed slowly but insistently in. He did fit perfectly, and it felt amazing, just as he’d expected.

“Goddamn that’s good,” he grunted as he picked up the pace a bit. “It would be almost perfect if you could clench down just a bit….”

Ah, but now I could. And as I did, he let out a gasp and a satisfied moan. I felt his load enter me, a hot and voluminous spend. His long-fingered hands, warm and soft, grappled my pecs and ran down my chest.

“Goddamn, that was hot.”

Danny maneuvered my body into little spoon position.

“You’re surprisingly warm, I think I’ll just cuddle.”

*****