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“I'm going to miss you, babe," Kayla said. “So much."

“Mm."

“Are you going to miss me?"

“Yeah."

“Don't fall asleep. Let's talk a little longer."

Cade sat up a little straighter in the bed. The gorilla had been dozing off, his body warm with sleep-inducing postcoital hormones. He found Kayla's head in his lap and traced the edge of one of the rabbit's long, soft ears with a finger.

“I'm awake," he said as his heavy eyelids drooped and then closed.

Kayla moved under the sheets to lie between his legs. Cade felt her hand moving down his stomach, and he grinned.

“I thought you said you wanted to talk!" he said. “Don't know if I'm ready to go again."

“Good," she said playfully.

He frowned slightly as he, eyes closed, tried to identify what she was doing with his package, still sensitive from having come a few minutes earlier. He felt her maneuver one of his balls through a ring, then the other, and he let out a small laugh as he realized she must be fitting him with one of his cock rings — she really must want a second round before heading off for the summer.

“All right, I'll —"

“Stay still," she ordered.

“Yes, ma'am," he said with a laugh, folding his hands behind his head. “Have your way with me."

Her attention had shifted from his balls to his cock. He bit his tongue in anticipation, enjoying the sensation of the head entering… something. Then came a pressure at the base of his cock, the scrape of metal, a click, and then —

“All done!" she said happily.

He opened his eyes and looked down his body.

The gray rabbit was crouching between his legs, hands hiding his crotch from view, a look of mischief lighting up her heart-shaped face. Behind her hands, the cock ring — or whatever it was — was trapping blood in his cock, but his erection felt wrong somehow.

“What did you do, bunny?" he said. He looked past her hands and her face to her breasts and thought, yeah, he could probably go another round.

“You ready?" she said, her expression suggesting she was taking great pleasure from milking the moment.

“I'm ready!" he said, a note of impatience entering his voice.

“Tada!" She removed her hands with a flourish.

Cade propped himself up on his elbows, squinting in the dim light of his bedroom. At first glance, his cock looked normal and flaccid, but, no, his black cock was encased in an equally black, crisscrossing cage of hard, matte plastic. What he had confused for a cock ring was in fact a ring that the cage attached to, locking it in place.

“A chastity cage?" he said.

“You like it?" she said expectantly. She kicked her legs back and rested her chin in her hand, giving him a sultry look as she tickled the tip of his cock through one of the openings in the plastic.

His cock swelled a little, straining against the cage and pulling on the ring behind his balls.

“Uh," he said, forcing himself to take his eyes off his cock in the hopes that he could strangle the incoming erection. He caught the pulsing standby light on his laptop and remembered the half-finished essay that stood between him and the end of the semester. That helped — a little. “Yeah, it's, uh, great, but… why?"

“Be-cause," she said with measured patience, dragging out each syllable, “when I'm gone, I want you to be a good widdle boy and behave yourself." She poked him on his wide nose with a finger. “Maybe this way you'll get that 2.99 up to a 3.0 this summer and not have to move back to campus housing."

“Oh, so this is for academic purposes," he said.

She ignored him. “And then," she continued, her voice a husky whisper, “when I come back for Fourth of July weekend, I'm going to let the big, bad gorilla out of his cage."

He clenched his jaw and stared up at the ceiling, desperately counting the wood panels in an attempt to distract his cock. He thought he could feel every strip of the plastic cage where it cut into his flesh.

“That's… like six weeks!" he said, and the realization was an even more painful feeling than the one in his crotch.

She clicked her tongue. “If you really don't want to do it, then that's fine," she said in a tone that suggested nothing was fine.

“No, no, I'm game," he said. “I'm up for the challenge. I just want to know why you want to do this."

“You said it: It's a challenge," she said encouragingly. “Like…" Her eyes went up and to the right as she tried to summon a memory. “Remember those three or so months last year when you got really into anal?"

He did. Fondly. “Yeah," he said, eyes glazing over.

“Well," she said, soldiering on, “I had to learn to find pleasure in that. And I did — after the first couple of times."

“Yeah, but it's not like I — I don't know — put a lid on your pussy," he said, not sure if his comparison was hitting the mark. Judging by her less than entertained expression, it hadn't.

“Like I said, it's a challenge," Kayla repeated. “You can still come. You just can't jerk off."

He looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, as though trying to discern some ulterior motive from her face. She met his gaze confidently.

“So if you're making me do this, what kind of kinky shit do you have planned for the summer?" he asked.

Now she looked away. “Oh, you know, I'm always looking for new inspiration," she said cryptically.

He watched her for another second. “You just really want to peg me, don't you?" he said, waiting for her reaction.

She grinned. “Maybe," she said, turning pink.

“I'm happy to try that when you're back, but what if I just promise to not jerk off while you're gone?" He had reached the bargaining phase of the grieving process.

Her eyes narrowed. “Not good enough. I want you to work for it."

“So I'm free to do whatever I want to get off, just as long as I don't jerk off?"

“If that's what it's going to take, then sure."

“OK. I hope you'll visit me in the hospital while they're treating me for the massive internal injuries I sustained when I fingered a hole in my prostate."

She laughed, and he tackled her. “Of course, they'll have to amputate my dick," he continued, wrapping her up in the sheets and tickling the sensitive spot just above her right hip. She seized up instantly, laughing and bucking as she tried to shake him off. “I hope you'll still love me —“

“Stop! Stop!" she wheezed between laughs.

“— even though I'll be completely smooth down there —“

“Watermelon! Penumbra! Safe word!"

“— like an action figure — ouch!"

He raised himself up in a planking position to look down at his crotch. His cock was filling with blood, and the cage was doing its job painfully well. Bits of him bulged angrily between the strips of plastic restraining his cock.

He sat up and took the cage in his hand, wincing as he tried to stop the flow of blood to his cock.

Kayla regarded him smugly as she untangled herself from the sheets.

“Glad to see it works," she said. “Just be happy I didn't get the hot pink version."

Day 1:

The paper would have to wait.

The next morning, after seeing off a teary-eyed Kayla, he made straight for his laptop to search for a way to circumvent his confinement.

He launched the browser and stared at the search box, fingers hovering above the keyboard.

cumming handsfree

In somewhat of a surprise, this search produced pages upon pages of porn videos — and gay porn videos at that.

Cade wasn't fazed. He sometimes watched gay porn along with Kayla, who, for a reason she had never satisfactorily been able to explain, really enjoyed it. It only seemed fair; she occasionally endured having to watch lesbian porn when he was in the mood for it.

He clicked on one of the videos and skipped to the relevant part. He leaned back in his chair, one hand scratching his chin as though he were examining a piece of abstract art, the other feeling the hard plastic ring around his cock and balls.

The video didn't tell him much. It showed an otter kneeling on a bed, face down, ass up, taking it from behind from a well-endowed wolf. Cade grimaced only slightly as the wolf — his cock already buried in the otter's ass — rammed his knot against the other man's stretched hole until — with a pop — the red, bulbous lump of tissue squeezed inside. After about 30 seconds of the wolf grinding his crotch against the otter's ass, a watery load drooled from the otter's limp cock.

Further research revealed to Cade that his prostate was the key to success. Apparently vigorous massage of that gland, combined with sexual intoxication, could sometimes trigger orgasm in men (or at least so the online encyclopedia article on the subject suggested). This seemed to corroborate his experiences with Kayla, who sometimes incorporated an adventurous finger to surprising effect when giving him head.

He scratched his chin again. Feeling pragmatic and open-minded about his first day of penile captivity, he shrugged off his shorts, found an old tube of lubricant in a drawer, and put his feet on the desk. His scooted his body a little lower in the chair so that his butt was hanging off the edge of the seat. A squirt of lubricant, and then his left index finger was teasing his hole open.

He tried to ignore the discomfort and thought instead about how good it had felt in the moment when Kayla had done it, but wasn't entirely able to recreate the feeling. He went a little deeper, poking and prodding against the roof of his insides in search of a reaction. Instead he found something that definitely wasn't his prostate.

“Fucking gross," he muttered to himself after withdrawing and looking at his finger. He grabbed a couple of tissues.

He consulted the article on prostate massage again and found an entire section describing toys designed exclusively for that purpose. He opened a new tab and made several searches in quick succession.

how to clean ass

how to clean ass for sex

how to douche

douche bulb

prostate massager

Minutes later, he made two purchases and paid nearly as much for expedited shipping as he did for the actual items.

Day 4:

It was called the “Hydra," which Cade thought was an awfully fancy name for a piece of off-white plastic that looked like an odd melted candle.

The prostate massager was shaped like the letter T, where the smooth, thick, rounded base curved forward at the bottom. The box claimed this design decision was “informed by clinical studies of men's bodies to maximize pleasure," which Cade interpreted as meaning that the toy would poke him in the prostate. The box didn't say anything about the reasoning behind the top of the t-shaped massager, but Cade assumed the pieces that extended vertically prevented the thing from disappearing up his butt.

It was a day of firsts: his first time using the massager, which he hoped would be more of a highlight than his first time using a douche bulb had been. Unfortunately, it was also the first day when he had really begun to feel the effects of not being able to jerk off. Every time he would think of anything even remotely sexual, his mouth would go dry and his cock would begin to chub up and pull the cage forward, increasing the discomfort around his already aching balls.

Lying on his right side on the bed, he bent his left leg at the knee. He reached behind himself, lined up the tip of the prostate massager with his hole, and squinted to consult the website on the laptop screen in front of him on the bed.

“'Place the tip of the Hydra against your anus…" he read quietly. “Check. 'Take a slow breath and as you exhale, gently press the Hydra… into your anus.'"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his mouth, cheeks ballooning. The massager was heftier than his finger, but he had taken the website's advice of “use plenty of lube!" to heart. With a couple more breaths and some gentle movements in and out, he felt the head of the toy pass through the first ring of muscle, then the second, and then — with a slight gasp — slide as though by its own power into him to rest against his prostate.

He took a moment to take inn the odd sensation of pressure. He wouldn't exactly describe it as pleasurable, but it wasn't uncomfortable either.

“'Once inserted… squeeze and relax your pub… pubo… coccygeus muscle group,'" he read uncertainly. “'This is the muscle that makes your penis bounce when you have an erection.' Oh." He snorted.

He did as the website instructed and felt the plastic toy shift inside him. Again, he was undecided about how it made him feel.

“'Learning to control this muscle for self-pleasure takes some practice,'" he read, a note of disappointment in his voice. He had hoped for more immediate relief. “'Stimulating other erogenous zones, such as the neck, nipples, inner things, and penis, may amplify the experience.' Yeah, about that…"

He kept it up for about five minutes, squeezing and relaxing the muscles in his crotch and stroking parts of his body listed on the website to little effect, save for a not-unpleasant tingling in his nipples. Feeling the beginnings of a cramp developing in his left hamstring, he decided to remove the prostate massager for now and relax his leg.

He rolled over on his back. That was an OK first attempt, he told himself as he stared up at the ceiling. The dull pounding sensation in his balls seemed to disagree.

Day 15:

He liked living with Buck. The horse, who was several years older than him, described himself as ABD, short for “all but dissertation," which from what Cade could gather meant that he should be spending all day writing a huge research paper. In reality Buck spent all morning going for long runs and all afternoon “in the lab," whatever that meant.

Not that Cade complained. He often had the house to Kayla and himself (or rather, these days, to the prostate massager and himself). Moreover, Buck being a Ph.D. student (“Ph.D. candidate," Buck would invariably interject) meant he generally had his life together more than the average undergraduate student, which was a complicated way of saying he earned a stable paycheck. That meant no drama when rent was due, or when weed needed to be acquired.

Cade had lucked into the room. He had snagged it the previous year because he had been the only person to respond to an ad Buck had posted on some obscure online forum they both frequented. He had sealed the deal by cracking a joke about the house's only bathroom during his visit-slash-audition which apparently perfectly captured the vibe in the house.

The home, an old, gray Victorian house with a wraparound porch that had probably been beautiful before several generations of students had had their way with it, was meant to sleep four, but two of its occupants had been away on field work for six months and would be for six more and hadn't bothered subletting their rooms (Buck had laughed and said something about “generous funding").

As far as roommate situations went, Cade thought this was one fairly ideal. He knew Buck just well enough that the two could spend an evening on the couch drinking and smoking and bingeing something mindless, yet not well enough that there existed any requirement that the two hang out regularly.

“Sex question," Cade blurted out late one such evening.

“Shoot," Buck said, not skipping a beat.

“When you're having sex with a guy…" he began.

Buck exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring. “Here we go," he said, as though he had participated in this exact conversation a thousand times.

Cade pressed on. “…do you prefer to be the guy, uh, giving it, or the guy getting it?"

Buck turned to face Cade and placed one of his big hands on his shoulder. “That's the good part about getting it on with dude," he said solemnly, sounding like a father imparting an important life lesson. “You can do both."

Cade met his condescension with a withering look. “All right, cool," he said. “I just thought, since you're a horse…"

“You thought, since I got a big ol' dick, all I want to do is get it wet," Buck said tiredly. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm able to check that box when I'm with a chick, you know."

“Sorry," Cade mumbled.

Buck waved it off.

Cade couldn't help himself. “But… what's in it for you?" he asked, thinking about the many unsuccessful sessions with the prostate massager over the past week and a half. With every failed attempt, Cade felt as though he were inflating his sack.

“Getting fucked?"

Cade nodded.

“Here's a little secret: Inside every man's ass is a secret spot that, when played with —“

“I know what a prostate is," Cade said flatly. “I've told you some of the stuff me and Kayla have tried."

“I've heard some of the stuff you guys get up to. My room is right above yours, you know."

“If you're waiting for an apology for my awesome sex life, it's not happening," Cade said. “Anyway, speaking of prostates, she, uh, mentioned she wants to try pegging when she gets back." He chuckled awkwardly.

Buck was unimpressed. “Big whoop," he said. “It's just your butt. Live a little."

“Hey, I don't have any hang-ups about butt stuff," Cade said, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence.

Buck gave him an unconvinced look out of the corner of his eye.

“I mean, Kayla sometimes sticks a finger up there," Cade added, as though this would buttress his butt stuff credibility.

“Psh," Buck said. “Fingers. Dicks are shaped the way they are for a reason, you know."

“What's the difference? The size? The length?"

“All of it!" Buck said. It's like…" The horse's eyes narrowed as he tried to find the right words. He held up his hands, palms facing each other as though trying to grab the perfect explanation out of thin air. “It's the ultimate feeling of surrender. It's a feeling that only someone else can make you feel. Know how it's impossible to tickle yourself? It's like that, stacked on top of itself a thousand times and multiplied by a million, and it makes you want to run away and stay where you are and die right there and live forever."

“Damn, dude," Cade said in a hushed voice.

They both fell silent. The episode they had been watching had ended, returning them to the soundless menu of the streaming site. Even the crickets outside seemed to be holding their breath.

Increasingly worried that the conversation was about to peter out, Cade said, “Are you, like, not at all curious why I'm been asking you a bunch of questions about sex?"

Buck shook his head, apparently surfacing from deep in thought. He shrugged. “Whatever, man," he said. “If you're going through some stuff, I'm happy to have that conversation, but ask me that question. Don't pussyfoot around with cryptic shit about taking stuff up the ass."

“I'm not trying to come out to you," Cade said. He sighed. His thumb lingered at the waistband of his plaid shorts, and for a second, he considered pulling them down and showing Buck the reason behind his line of questioning. If he couldn't get off, maybe sharing his predicament would ease some of the burden.

Buck ran a hand through his mane. “You do you, man," he said. “'scuse me, I've gotta… take care of something."

Cade frowned as he watched Buck get up, adjust a crease in his shorts, and leave the room in a hurry. A second later, his frown turned into a look of disgust.

“Aw, seriously, dude?"

Day 22:

“Can you — see me?" Kayla's voice crackled, her video feed was a pixelated mess, but Cade felt his heart soaring.

“Hey, bunny," he said. He shifted his feet on either side of the laptop on the desk, spreading his legs a little wider. “What do you think?" He grabbed his crotch and held the pose for the three seconds it took for the transmission to travel to Kayla's low-bandwidth location.

“Oh, baby…!" she squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth. “You look so cute!"

He wrinkled his nose. “Cute?" he said in mock protest.

“Sexy," she corrected herself (after that three-second pause). “Super sexy. My big, sexy gorilla boy."

Cade pretended to double over in pain. “Don't compliment me…!" he said, clutching his crotch.

They both laughed, Cade a little more hollowly. The truth was that for the past week or so he had felt a constant ache in his balls. He also wasn't sleeping well. Several times a night, he would be woken up from some painfully frustrating sex dream by his cock fighting against the cage and nearly cutting off the blood flow to his balls.

“But, seriously, how are you doing?" Kayla asked, perhaps seeing the specter of concern in his face.

“Uh," Cade said, not sure how to answer the question. “It's been a challenge, not gonna lie." He broke eye contact with her distorted image on the screen. “Do you want to see what I've been doing?" he added to change the subject.

“Show me, baby," she purred.

He grabbed the prepared prostate massager from just beyond the webcam's frame and held it up for Kayla to see.

“Tada!" he said. “And for my next trick…" He brought the toy down to his hole and slid it in easily, and then reached up to begin playing with his nipples.

Kayla shrieked with delight, but sound was cut off halfway through. Her video feed froze.

Cade waited, feeling slightly foolish where he sat with his hands resting on his chest. “You still there?" he said after about 10 seconds.

“— so — can't believe — hot — feeling?" The laptop speakers spat out garbled bits of what Kayla was saying, the sound out of sync with the video.

“Kayla?" he said at the same time as she said “Are you there?"

“I'm here," he said. “You were just going in and out."

“Oh, there we go," she said, more to herself than anything. The quality of both the audio and video improved significantly. “I can see you now! I was just saying that looks so hot! How does it feel?"

“It feels… like I've really gotta cum," he said, which was the honest answer.

She giggled. “Poor baby." She lowered her voice seductively. “What if you showed me how it works…?"

His mouth had gone dry. “Yeah, bunny," he said huskily. “So it starts with squeezing and relaxing down there — I think they're called kegels?" He clenched his muscles, held it for two seconds as the firm head of the massager dug into his prostate, relaxed, and then repeated the process.

“Yeah, kegels," she said.

“And then," he said, breathing faster. “I like to, uh…" He put his thumbs on his nipples and moved them in small circles, feeling some phantom nerve effect of someone doing the same to his balls.

“Yeah, play with your chest," she whispered. “What are you thinking ab—“ Her video feed froze again.

He waited impatiently for the connection to be restored. “Damnit," he grumbled. He looked at her frozen expression on the screen. “Can you fix your fucking internet?" he snapped.

“Sorry," she said, sounding hurt, her voice coming through clearly even though the video had cut out. “Uncle Jim's place has really bad wi-fi."

Cade felt a pang of embarrassment — he hadn't thought Kayla could hear him. “I'm sorry," he stammered. “I didn't think you —“

“It's fine, it's fine," she said, though he could tell that she was stung by his words. “Just keep going. What do you think about when you play with yourself?"

“I think about…" he started, trying to pick up here he had left off. His thumbs found his nipples again. “I think about you, and how warm and wet you get for me."

“Dirty boy," she said, egging him on. “What do youuuuu —“ The call quality stumbled again, and Kayla's final word became a drawn-out sound like a dial tone.

A chime sounded from the laptop, and then the room fell silent. The call had dropped.

Day 29:

“Come on… Come on! Let me cum — just let me cum! Please, just let me cum…!"

Another Saturday night. Another empty house. Another desperate session with the prostate massager.

Cade has assumed what had become his usual position on the chair in front of the desk, feet up, fingers on his nipples, pelvic muscles clenching and unclenching around the toy inside him.

The room was in complete darkness except for the light from the laptop screen, which showed a video of a gorilla on his hands and knees on the floor, whimpering in pleasure as a machine powering a piston-like component drove a thick dildo into him.

Cade had started watching porn as part of the routine to add yet another sensory input to the experience. He had originally and automatically opted for straight porn, including an old favorite starring a chimpanzee and a vibrator, but watching it gave him a strange out-of-body sensation. He had an easier time relating to the video of the gorilla, and by turning the lights off, he could shut everything else out and focus on it and his own breathing, teasing, and massaging.

For what he thought must be the millionth time that month, Cade felt himself getting close to the edge but knew he wouldn't get there. The video had ended, and he had to sit up and click a button to restart it.

Once he sat back, it was as though a glass had been dropped and shattered in his mind. His focus was gone, and he was just some stupid, horny college kid playing with his nipples with a piece of plastic shoved up his ass and another wrapped around his cock and balls.

“God fucking damnit!" he roared, slamming his balled-up fists against his thighs as the sensation that had been building inside him fizzled out like a cheap sparkler. He tore the prostate massager from his body and threw it on the floor.

He flopped back in the chair, groaning in defeat. He tugged furiously on the cage to no effect but pain. The palm of his hand came away wet, but he hadn't managed to make himself come — he had merely managed to milk some sticky, clear fluid out of himself.

As he lay draped over his chair, he heard a tapping noise. It took him until the second volley to realize the sound came from someone knocking on his bedroom door, not his cock beating against its cage.

“Everything OK in there, buddy?" It was Buck.

Despite having double and triple checked that he had locked the door, Cade rolled out of chair and waddled like a man who had just gotten off a prostate massager-shaped horse over to the door. He leaned his weight against the wood.

“Yeah," he lied, his voice about an octave higher than usual. A second later, he felt himself cracking, the frustration of the past 29 days welling up inside him, and he whimpered, “No…!"

Buck tried the locked door. “What's going on, man? You're scaring me."

“It's Kayla…!" Cade whined.

“She OK? Did something happen?" The urgency in Buck's voice was growing.

Cade wiped his runny nose and forced himself to take a deep breath. “She put my dick in a cage…!"

In the silence that followed, he thought he could feel the reaction of absolute incredulity radiating through the solid wood door.

“She…" Buck said, and Cade heard him snort with laughter.

“Put my dick — in a cage!" he shouted at him through the door.

“But… she's been gone for like a month."

“I know!" Cade screamed.

“Wow. OK. Wow. Wow," Buck said. He took a moment, perhaps to pull himself together. “Hey, will you open the door? Let's get some booze in you."

“I don't want to open the door."

“C'mon, buddy. Open the door."

“I don't — all right. Don't laugh." He turned the knob, causing the lock button to pop free.

“Don't lau— whoa, hello!" Buck said as the door swung open and he was greeted by the sight of his naked roommate.

“Twenty-nine days!" Cade yelled, craning his neck to look up at the horse, the light from the hallway burning his eyes. “I haven't cum in twenty-nine days!"

“I, uh, can tell," Buck said, his gaze darting back and forth between Cade's face and his crotch. Then he looked past Cade and saw the aftermath of the gorilla's fruitless massaging session.

“Hey, you got the Hydra!" he said excitedly. “How is —“

Cade's eyes flashed with the intent of a man about to commit a felony.

“Right, sorry — not the time," Buck said. “Let's get you — do you want to put something — no? OK. All right. Let's, uh… kitchen. Let's go."

Cade shuffled along behind Buck to the kitchen, smearing lubricant up and down his crack as he walked.

“First things first," Buck said, hastily searching for and finding a plastic bottle of bottom-shelf whisky. He poured two shots into neon blue plastic shot glasses left behind from a party that spring.

They downed the liquor without a word.

Buck stood blinking for a few seconds. Apparently unsatisfied, he declared, “Another."

Cade accepted the second shot without comment and drank it. He held out the shot glass.

Buck cleared his throat. “Good call."

The third round of shots went down.

Buck grabbed two beers and motioned for Cade to follow him to the living room. After wiping the worst of the lubricant from his crack with some paper towels, Cade did.

They both sank into the threadbare couch. Cade felt the whisky boiling in his stomach. He vaguely acknowledged that he was still naked.

After about a minute of them staring at the blank TV screen, Cade said, “I thought you were out."

“What?" Buck said, sounding as thought his train of thought had been derailed.

“I thought you were out," Cade repeated, a little louder this time.

“Oh. Yeah, no. Wasn't really clicking, so I ended it early."

“Sucks."

Buck made a noncommittal noise. “Got a whole bottle of wine out of it," he said.

They fell silent for a while. Buck turned the TV on and flipped through the guide, but didn't select anything to watch.

“I just want to cum," Cade said, as though speaking the words would make it come true.

“I know, I know," Buck said soothingly. “When is Kayla back?"

“Fourth of July weekend."

Buck counted on his fingers. “Yikes," he said as he realized Cade still had three weeks to go. “I'll make sure to clear out that weekend," he added with a chuckle.

Cade grimaced.

Buck flipped back and forth between two channels in the guide indecisively. “No luck with the Hydra, then?" he asked carefully.

“No," Cade said hotly. After actually considering the question, he said, “Well… I don't know! It's doing something, but I don't know if it's actually good and I'm just supposed to keep going, or if I'm way off and just grinding a hole in my guts."

“Mm," Buck said in acknowledgment. “Those toys can be tricky. You've got to hit the right spot for like… half an hour, at least. And you've got to be in the right state of mind that entire time. Basically self-hypnosis."

Buck scratched his long chin. “Here's what you've got to do," he said, sounding like cross between a life coach and a military strategist. “Go on Craigslist and put out a personal ad and just get yourself a group of guys to run a train on you — no, actually, find yourself a draft horse. Those dudes can go for hours. Get some poppers, and just… let that dude go to town for a night. Should have you cumming buckets."

Buck looked up and finally caught the expression of uncertainty and suspicion on Cade's face. The horse cocked his big head to one side, the look on his face screaming “Really?"

“Keep dreaming — not me, idiot," he said. “Besides," he added, his long face splitting into a shit-eating grin, “you're not my type."

Cade's eyes narrowed.

“Anyway, you'd think after twenty-nine days a stiff breeze would set you off, huh?" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Cade grunted.

“And I'm guessing," Buck said, “since you've reached the 'buying speciality products to stick up your ass' stage, that this isn't the only thing you've tried?" The horse indicated his own chest, and, looking down at himself, Cade saw that his nipples looked swollen from all the pinching and flicking that he had subjected them to.

“I've tried fucking everything, man," Cade said. He patted his stomach and burped, the alcohol fumes burning the back of his throat. He cracked open his beer and took a sip to wash it down. “Jerking off through the cage still on, using the massage setting on the shower head… I even busted out Kayla's fucking wand massager vibrator thing and just, like, held it against the cage for fifteen minutes."

“Woof. You tried watching porn?"

“Uh, been trying not to," Cade said, his tone making clear just how terrible of a suggestion he thought it was.

“Nah, think about it," Buck said. He got his phone out of his pocket and started swiping and tapping. “Maybe what you need to do is watch someone else get off."

“Oh, yeah, that's exactly what I need," Cade said theatrically, rolling his eyes. He had some more beer. “Watch someone do the one thing I can't — oh, come on, dude!"

The TV had for a moment gone dark, and when the picture returned, it had jumped to the middle of a porn video that Buck had cast from his phone.

“Watch this, watch this," Buck said, eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love this part."

Cade growled his disapproval but remained on the couch.

The video was shot from the perspective of a man — a bull, judging by his long, slender cock — towering over a vixen on her back on a bed. The bull grabbed his cock by the base, slapping the vixen on her stomach and gradually going lower, lower until the pointed tip of his cock was teasing her lips. The bull held it there for a second, the camera capturing the nervous anticipation on the woman's face, and then he drove all of himself into her with a deep growl.

“Fuck, look at her face, man," Buck said, punching Cade so hard in the arm that he had to catch himself on the armrest, spilling some of the beer on his hand and bare thigh. He put the can on the coffee table and wiped his leg with his free hand, letting out an infuriated snarl that had very little to do with the spilled drink. Some of the wetness, he realized, wasn't beer, but the clear stuff still dripping from his cock.

He slumped back against the backrest. “It's not like I'm —“ he began. The next few words fell from his mouth and his mind without a sound.

Buck's fly was open, and the horse was tugging on the soft spill of black and pink flesh protruding from a heavy sheath of folds upon folds of dark skin.

“What?" Buck said, as though Cade had walked in and interrupted him. “You're naked too."

The smell of horse hit Cade like a wave of heat like someone had opened an oven next to him. He knew that smell from the times when he had used the bathroom right after Buck. It was so overpowering that it was making him dizzy — or maybe that was the three shots of whisky he had just drunk.

“What am I supposed to do?" he shouted at Buck. There was something deeply, fundamentally unfair about how the horse was able to sit there, a little drunk on a Saturday night, with nothing to worry about but an unsuccessful date, tugging on his long, thick, unrestrained dick. Just the thought of it made Cade's blood boil a little more violently than the simmer he had been dealing with for the past four weeks.

“Just… just look at me," Buck said is a raspy voice. On the TV, the bull had picked up the vixen, turned her over, and was giving it to her from behind.

“No thanks," Cade said, trying to look at the wall, the coffee table — anywhere but the TV or the horse's stiffening cock. It seemed to inflate from the bottom up; the base looked as firm as Buck's thigh by now, but the tip and the head still looked like they had a little give to them.

“No, no, just do it," Buck said. Without warning, he grabbed Cade by the scruff of his neck and pulled him next to him.

Cade braced himself against Buck's hip — for a terrifying fraction of a second, he thought the horse was about to force himself on him — but it turned out the horse really just wanted Cade to sit next to him, and not use his vastly superior strength to jam his cock down his throat.

This close, the horse's cock was impossible to ignore. It was almost fully hard now, the base of it surely wider than the circumference of his grip, the black flesh narrowing slightly until it reached a band of skin about one-third of the way, after which the color of the skin turned a fleshy pink for several more inches before it flared out to form the blunt head.

“What — what do you want me to do?" Cade said, and he was a little embarrassed by how meekly the words came out.

“Just… watch," Buck said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He put his hand just below the head of his cock and squeezed.

Cade — eyelids fluttering as though expecting an explosion — watched as the head swelled, the little circle of flesh that was the urethral opening bulging outward.

Then Buck began to move his hand slowly down the shaft of his cock, inch by engorged inch. He reached the band of skin and lingered there for a second, tracing the edge of it with his thumb, and then he worked his hand all the way to the base before beginning the deliberate, caressing ascent, the skin bunching slightly as he stroked upward.

Cade shook his head. It felt as though the single stroke had taken half an hour. His head was pounding — as was the part of his body where the blood was being denied entry to his cock. Somewhere in front of them, he heard the distant moans of the vixen as the bull continued to take her.

“Yeah…" Buck panted. “You feel that? That's your cock. Your big cock being jerked. Doesn't that feel good?"

Cade gave a little huff of exasperation. “It doesn't feel…" he began, unable to put the denial of gratification he was feeling into words. “It's not — I'm not…" He motioned from his own nub of angrily bulging flesh to Buck's towering spire of manhood.

Buck made a noise of comprehension in his throat. Then — again without warning — he grabbed Cade by the armpits and hoisted him up, dropping him down to sit in his lap. The horse flexed his cock, and suddenly the more than two-foot-long slab of black and pink flesh rose proudly between the gorilla's legs, squeezing Cade's purplish sack against his confined cock.

Cade protested wildly, throwing his weight this way and that, but Buck held him in place quite easily, shushing him until the gorilla stopped fighting.

“Relax, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said softly in Cade's ear. “See? Look. That's your cock now. Look at it."

Cade did, but all he saw was the obscene juxtaposition of his caged flesh pressed up against the many times larger, freely swinging horse cock.

“Oh, right." Buck had spotted the problem. The horse leaned back, ripped his t-shirt off, and used it to cover Cade's crotch. “There. Better, huh?" He looped his left arm around Cade's waist and held the gorilla close to his now bare torso.

The horse flexed his cock three times in quick succession, and Cade's eyes widened in disbelief as he felt the thrilling physical feedback of the flesh pressing up against his cage. For a moment, the illusion worked. For a second, Buck's cock was his own.

“Y-yeah!" Cade said in disbelief. “I--I feel it!"

Buck snorted with approval, the force of the air ruffling the fur on the back of Cade's head and neck.

“What do I — what do we do now?" Cade asked breathlessly, wide eyes fixed on the cock mere inches from his face, in awe as he took in every snaking vein, every bump of skin along the ridge of the head.

“Now, we…" Buck said, and with the hand not holding Cade in place, he grabbed his cock and began to jerk it slowly, adding a twist of his wrist as though to touch, to pleasure as much of it as possible. He sighed with pleasure, the warm blast of air shooting from his muzzle and washing over Cade's naked body.

Cade heard the deep ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk of the horse's heart beating somewhere behind him, felt the big man's chest rise and fall as a breathed, felt their combined body heat where his back rested against Buck's chest.

Still the horse's cock grew, the head flaring even wider now, wetness pooling in the slight depression around the urethral opening.

Cade detected movement in the corner of his eye and was surprised to find himself reaching forward with his right hand. He placed his palm on the back of Buck's much larger hand.

Buck paused, but said nothing. The two of them stared at the sight in front of them: the cock, the horse's hand, and the gorilla's hand. Then, like a dance, Buck took the lead and resumed stroking, Cade hanging on as the horse upped his speed.

Cade felt movement at his waist: Buck's hand. It climbed, hesitantly at first, up his body, finding his chest, and then the horse took his right nipple between his colossal thumb and index finger and squeezed.

Cade gasped but did not object.

They stayed like that for a while, Buck squeezing Cade's nipple to the rhythm of their hands going up-down, up-down on the horse's massive meat.

Cade kept his thoughts suspended in the moment, trying not to think about what he was doing or what he was feeling. The pressure in his balls was worse than ever, but he didn't know if it was his own approaching climax or Buck's, shared with him through the barrier of sweat where their bodies rubbed up against each other.

Then Buck shifted. Cade thought the horse was trying to get more comfortable, but then his hand began to slip from Cade's grasp — slowly at first, a slight twitch in mid-stroke that ended with Cade holding on to Buck's knuckles.

Neither of them said anything, continuing to jerk the twitching length. Just when Cade thought he had imagined it, however, Buck withdrew a little more of his hand. This time, the effect couldn't be ignored. Cade's hand was now on Buck's slightly splayed fingers. Still, the two of them carried on as though nothing was happening, working the full length of the cock, up and down, up and down.

He wasn't sure whose heart was beating harder. As Buck's breath rippled through his fur, Cade shifted his index finger by a fraction of an inch, and suddenly he was touching the horse's cock. It wasn't much — a sliver of fingertip brushing against an iota of skin, but it was enough to send a jolt of excitement through Cade's stomach and down to his cock, twitching in its cage. Buck's cock spasmed in response, drawing another contraction from Cade, and back and forth it went as though the two limbs were communicating in their own language of convulsions.

It was the sign Buck seemed to have been waiting for. In one movement, he withdrew his right hand from his cock, reached up to pinch Cade's right nipple, and moved his left hand to Cade's left nipple.

Just as the gravity of the situation was about to settle on Cade, Buck squeezed his sore nipples. Cade sucked in a breath and bared his teeth. He buried whatever thought was coalescing in his mind, closed his right hand around as much of Buck's cock as he could and then grabbed the other side of it with his left, as though to make up for the loss of Buck's larger hand.

“Yeah, just like that," Buck breathed, but it sounded more like a voice in Cade's mind than another man encouraging him.

His hands forming a large circle, Cade initiated the first stroke downward.

It was mesmerizing; Buck's cock — no, his cock — was surprisingly soft and spongy to the touch, but its core felt as hard as rock. He marveled at the size of it, savored how the band of skin around the midpoint slipped under his grip, and gawked at how his fingertips were only just touching as he reached the base. A trickle of wetness was running down the mammoth shaft, but the lubrication didn't feel necessary. The skin was smooth and warm under his hands, sliding without friction as he increased the speed.

“Little bit harder…" the voice in his head said, and Cade thought it sounded like a good idea.

Reaching the tip again, Cade ran his palm across the flat, wet head, and the horse under and behind him — no, the world around him — quaked with pleasure. The pressure on his nipples increased, dancing on the border of pain. He timed his strokes to the pounding of the horse's heart, moving faster and faster.

The whole experience felt like a reward. He had endured 29 days of the cage, 29 days of not being able to jerk off, and now his cock was bigger than ever. He was going to sit there all night — all weekend — all summer and play with himself; no, playing was the wrong word for a cock this size — work was the word he was looking for. Having a cock this size was a responsibility, and he had a duty to —

“Shit…!" Buck croaked.

Before Cade could react, he was blinded. Buck was coming. The first blast hit Cade in the face, and he put his hands up too late to shield himself. Unrestrained, Buck's cock danced and twitched like a fire hose wrenching itself free from its master's grip, shooting its load all over the gorilla, all over the couch, all over the carpet and the coffee table and the beer cans.

Cade grabbed the horse's forearms to avoid being thrown off, feeling the sinewy muscles dancing under his fingers as Buck spasmed, shook, and finally settled.

In the silence that followed, Cade wiped the sticky, smelly stuff from his eyes, shutting his lips tightly to keep any more of it from going in his mouth. The pain in his balls told him what he already knew: He had not come.

He opened his eyes. The porn video had ended, and he could see his reflection in the dark glass of the TV screen, looking small where he sat dripping with semen in the lap of the spent Shire horse, the man's cock deflating in front of him.

…

He had feared things would change between Buck and him, but they didn't. The horse resumed his happy-go-lucky existence, occasionally leaving dishes in the sink, setting the AC temperature too low, and forgetting to clean the shower drain.

Not even a week after their affair on the couch, Cade began to hope things would change between them. On more than one occasion when the two found themselves in front of the TV late one evening, Cade agonized for hours as he sat with the suggestion that they should watch porn fully formed in his mouth, yet he was unable to speak it.

He was gradually and grudgingly coming to accept that he needed someone else's help to come, and he suspected that the prostate massager in his ass, Buck's cock in his hands, and the horse's fingers on his nipples would prove the breakthrough combination. The only piece missing from this plan was his pride; he couldn't bring himself to ask Buck if he could crawl into his lap and jerk him off. As the end of the month approached, he found himself wishing more than once that the horse would take command again, grab him, and pull him close.

But then the calendar flipped from June to July, and suddenly the end was in sight.

Day 50:

He awoke on Saturday, July 3, with three missed calls from Kayla. Despite another fitful night of sleep, he could not remember hearing his phone buzzing at all.

When he hung up some 20 minutes later, he had a hard time recalling anything other than the first minute.

Something about a stroke. Something about a car crash. Something about an uncle in a hospital.

Here's what he remembered quite vividly: Kayla wasn't coming to campus for the weekend. She wouldn't be back until the start of the semester. In September.

He found himself sitting at the table in the kitchen, naked, the linoleum cold under his feet. He reached for the plastic bottle of whisky and took another pull from it, hoping it would give him the courage he needed to go through with what he was about to do. The alcohol burned his throat and empty stomach but didn't make him feel the least bit more confident.

He was going to ask Buck to fuck him.

The second Buck returned from his morning run, he was going to ask him — beg him, if he had to — on his knees, if he had to. Surely he would understand. Surely he would take pity on him. Surely he would help him in his darkest hour.

He took another gulp of whisky.

He woke up some two hours later and unglued his face from the table. He checked his phone and dimly acknowledged that he for the first time in his life had achieved a hangover before noon.

The house was quiet.

hey where u at, he texted Buck, reading and rereading the text to make sure it didn't come across as too desperate.

It took Buck an torturous nine minutes to respond.

Home for the weekend, remember? House is all yours big guy followed by five emoji: a padlock, an eggplant, and three drops of water.

Cade nearly passed out.

…

An hour of inconsolable, aimless wandering around the empty house, whisky bottle in hand, later, Cade trudged back to his room and sat down at his desk. He wiped his eyes and nose and opened an incognito window in his browser.

He swallowed the queasiness in his throat with some booze as he navigated as though on autopilot to the website and clicked on the link for the section titled “men seeking men." He scanned the personal ads there, his mouth set in a thin line, and then decided he couldn't go through with it. He moved the cursor to the “back" button, hovered there for a second, and then cursed under his breath before clicking the “new listing" button instead.

He stared at the page of blank word boxes and dropdown lists. Words escaped him. How was he supposed to turn the anger and confusion and frustration and — above all — pent-up horniness of the past 50 days into a personal ad that would finally deliver the release he ached for?

Half an hour of painstaking writing, deleting, writing some more, pausing to stop his hands from shaking, drinking, editing, closing the tab and stomping off, returning in shame to restart the process, drinking, researching other personal ads, and even more writing and editing and drinking, he thought he had something.

str8 college guy hosting tonight

21 yo str8 discreet masc college guy 5'11" 170 lb hosting near college for hung thick tops after 10.

will be face down, ass up on bed. blind folded. walk in, get off, walk out. SAFE ONLY

message for address. send stats and pics

disease/drug free you be too

He read through the draft for what felt like the thousandth time, grimacing as his skin squirmed (and his balls throbbed). He couldn't bring himself to write the f-word — forcing himself to write “hung thick tops" was embarrassing enough — and he had deleted an entire paragraph about how his girlfriend had locked his cock away and left with the key; it sounded like a bad excuse.

Without another thought, the doubt rising like bile in his throat, he clicked the “post" button. The screen turned white, and for a moment he thought the session had timed out since he taken forever, but then he was back in the “men seeking men" section, and his post was at the top of the list.

He slammed the laptop shut with a yelp and then did a nervous lap around the kitchen and living room. He poured himself a glass of water and took a sip, but it went down the wrong pipe, and he spent the next minute coughing and pounding his chest, each cough seemingly tightening the hold around the base of his cock and balls.

He peered out of the living room window as though expecting to see a line of men already forming outside the house — but no, he was being ridiculous. He was in control. Nobody knew where he lived. He would have to screen and approve anyone before they showed up. He could even ignore every message and dedicate the evening to trying the prostate massager again. He could still back out.

He checked his phone. No messages. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

…

The first message arrived 33 minutes after his post went live.

49 5'9" 220 pounds 7.5" thick

Then a picture of a boar standing naked in a grubby bathroom holding a phone, his head cropped from the frame, his fat cock poking straight out from below his gut.

can't wait to fill your boy pussy tonight

Cade deleted the email and threw his phone down on the kitchen counter with a clatter. He regretted it less than a minute later.

…

He quickly realized his listing had loopholes. He had for some reason assumed that people would send him headshots; an hour and a half after he had clicked “post," however, his inbox was full of nothing but dick picks and headless torsos.

Yet he soon came to appreciate how people had interpreted his post; after all, why would he want to know what the people coming over later looked like? If anything, he wanted to dissociate the tools he would be employing later on with the people to whom they were attached.

He felt ashamed by his own pickiness. No knots (ouch). No barbs (again, ouch). No old guys. No fat guys. No guys whose bathrooms looked filthier than his own. These criteria weeded out more than half of the applications.

The first reply was the hardest to send. After sitting on the fence and ultimately deleting three more messages, he sent his address and instructions to the thirty-something headless panther torso who was able to string together words into sentences and peppered his message with the odd emoji. Once his address was out there, replying seemed to become easier.

He eventually approved three guys, then two more as backups in case anyone didn't show up — and then one last guy whose downward-curving cock (he was ashamed to admit to himself) looked perfect for massaging his prostate. With every reply, his sack seemed to grow fuller and heavier.

He made sure to send instructions that (he hoped) were less ambiguous than his personal ad.

Go around to the back of the house. If outside light is ON, WAIT. If outside light is OFF, enter through green door. Turn on outside light (inside, just to the left of the door). WEAR A CONDOM (BOWL ON NIGHTSTAND). Turn OFF outside light when leaving.

He spent the rest of the early evening in the bathroom, cleaning himself inside and out as though he could scrub the evening from his body before it took place. He ended up slumped in the shower as the final hours ticked away, the empty bottle of whisky floating next to him like some sad bath toy. The hot water had run out ages ago, yet he didn't move even though his teeth were chattering. The cold water had shrunk his cock even further — it sat as a wrinkle of skin inside the small cage — but every careful, dejected tug only confirmed that the plastic was as firmly attached as ever.

He thought back to the night before Kayla had left for the summer. It seemed so distant — not only in time, but measured in some other ungraspable dimension. The mental distance between who he had been in the spring and who he had become over the summer stretched into the horizon and past the curve of the world in his mind, the point of departure out of sight.

A part of him wanted to be mad at Kayla and everything she had made him do, but even in his addled state, he knew that was too weak an excuse. Kayla hadn't made him do anything. She hadn't made him watch gay porn, forced him to buy a prostate massager, or ordered him to jerk off Buck.

Everything that had happened in the past 50 days was his own doing, his own responsibility. And if what he had set in motion for tonight finally made him come, then he was determined to see it through.

…

It felt as though he were preparing for some bizarre dinner party.

He filled a plastic bowl he had found in the kitchen with condoms and placed it and the bottle of water-based lubricant on the closest nightstand. He put a towel down on the bed. He turned an old, red bandana into a makeshift blindfold. And then, a few minutes before 10, he took his position on his knees and elbows on the bed, hooking his feet on the edge of the mattress.

The minutes leading up to the top of the hour passed in excruciating silence. Then, as his ears picked up the sounds of the campus clock tower striking 10, he began to shiver.

It started as a tremble in his legs, but no matter how much he shifted around — spreading his knees wider, dropping his butt lower, or arching his back — was he able to relax. The shivering spread throughout him until his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't think — he couldn't breathe, and the force choking him wasn't squeezing his windpipe, but the base of his cock.

He pressed his face into the mattress and raised his butt higher, surrendering to the overpowering influence.

“Oh, shit."

The words froze Cade where he crouched. To his right, he heard the door to the porch and the backyard click shut and a light switch being flipped.

Silence. Heart pounding, he forced himself to stay still, to not tear off his blindfold and look over at the person who had entered his bedroom. The silence dragged on until he had almost convinced himself that he had imagined hearing someone enter, but then the floorboards creaked. The sounds were coming closer and closer. Then they stopped.

There was a man standing right behind him, inches away from his naked, upturned ass. He could hear the man's nervous breathing, feel his presence.

The soft clinking of a belt being loosened. The flopping of pants falling to the floor. The crackling of a hand rooting around in the bowl of condoms. Fidgeting. Then, a moment's pause.

The reality of situation came crashing down on Cade. He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and expelled all the air in his lungs.

Something warm and wet touched his crack, causing his hole to tighten instinctively. Then a hand touched his lower back, the weight of it an unspoken request to lower himself further down. He obliged.

The hand on his lower back remained, but the warm thing resting against his crack first disappeared and then became a blunt point of heat, a growing pressure against his hole.

He had two seconds to think that he wasn't ready, that he had made a terrible mistake before blinding, searing pain blasted every other thought from his mind. He stifled a cry in his throat, back curling from the pain, but the man behind him was leaning his weight on his lower back, pinning him in position as he drove himself in and out with short, animalistic strokes.

The cry escaped through Cade's nose with every thrust, but it was soon drowned out by the man, whose nervous breathing transformed into a ragged grunting until he — not even a minute later — seized up with a high-pitched squeal, his cock stretching Cade's hole as it throbbed inside him.

“F-fuck," the man said quietly, pulling out and — judging by the jumble of sounds that followed — dressing in a hurry.

The floorboards creaked, the door opened, and the man was gone.

Cade remained on the bed in a daze, the pain and dissatisfaction inside him fighting for his attention. He had expected something revelatory, something life-changing — something — and he had gotten nothing.

He made to sit up, but something struck him against his upper back, keeping him down.

“Stay down, boy," a voice growled in his ear. “You ready for me?"

Once Cade's heart resumed beating a few seconds later, he realized a second man must have entered the room the instant the first man had left.

The new man removed his arm from Cade's back and placed his hands on Cade's ass, spreading it wide. Cade fought the urge to cover himself.

“Hell yeah," the man said, his face so close Cade could feel his breath on his hole. “Love me some straight college boy ass." He tapped Cade's cage, drawing a yelp from the gorilla. “Locked, huh? Kinky fuckin' faggot."

Cade bit back a retort as heard the man give the bottle of lubricant three pumps. The next thing he knew, his cock was at his hole — and then inside him.

Cade let out a grunt of surprise and exertion. It was nowhere near as painful as the first man had been, but an unfamiliar feeling of warmth, fullness, and being stretched open.

“Tight fuckin' college ass," the man said in a labored voice, muffled as though spoken through gritted teeth. He pulled back slightly and plunged back in, moaning with lust.

Cade tried to keep his noises to a minimum, but it was getting more and more difficult. As the man behind him settled into a rhythm, he dimly imagined that he was the final one he approved based on the way his cock raked past his prostate. He gripped the sheets as the man leaned into him and increased his pace. In addition to the heat and pressure, Cade now felt a kernel of something that might have been pleasure, and it was growing, growing…

“Damn, you're — leakin' like a — faucet," the man said between thrusts. A hand wrapped itself around Cade's package, and then it was covering his mouth and nose, the wetness in the man's palm being smeared across his face. Cade, panting, breathed in and tasted his own concentrated desire.

“You gettin' wet for me, baby?" the man said, and then he laughed cruelly. “Well, I got a big load for you. Fuck yeah. Big fuckin' load…"

Cade clenched his hole around the man's cock, hoping he could push himself over the edge before the man came, but then the man gripped the muscles of his ass and sank in to the base of his cock, letting out a shuddering gasp of triumph, his twitching sack squeezing up against Cade's drawn-up, throbbing balls.

“Dirty fuckin' faggot," the man said as he pulled out, his voice a post-orgasm slur. “Fuck…" he said, and then his thumb was at Cade's crack, rubbing upward toward the hole — and then into it.

The man left without another word, stumbling across the bedroom and out into the night.

Cade, awash in the wake of the man's orgasm, remained motionless on the bed. A glob of lube gushed from his hole, but he let it trickle down to his balls and drip down on the towel. His legs were trembling again. This time, it wasn't out of fear. He was getting closer.

…

Unfortunately for Cade, it took what felt like half an hour for the next man to appear. By that time, whatever the second man had made him feel had all but dissipated.

The third man was a disappointment. He spent an eternity doing something behind Cade's back — trying to get it up, he assumed — and once he did, he lasted about as long as the first man.

The fourth was worse. Cade thought he could smell him before he heard him, and he spent their mercifully short session alternating between holding his breath and breathing only through his mouth. To add insult to injury, the man whispered “Did you get it?" as he was leaving, and a different voice replied with an enthusiastic “Yeah, I got it all!" Had somebody been filming him?

The fifth one vanished. The door opened, and Cade felt the presence of someone else in the room, but then the door opened again, and the man was gone.

Another long lull followed. Twice, Cade seriously considered getting up to lock the door and call it a night, but both times, he thought he heard a noise outside that made him dart back to the bed. The second time, he was right.

The sound of hooves on the wood floor made Cade perk up. Had he invited a horse? The only equine he could remember from his messages was one who he had rejected — and that because the semi-hard cock that spilled from the grimy sheath in the picture the man had sent looked to be about the length of Cade's arm.

The man drew closer, and there was that smell again: stallion. Stallion and cigarettes. The horse stopped as the other men had once he reached the side of the bed and stood there for a while, silently appraising what Cade was putting on display. Cade thought could feel the horse's hungry gaze on his body.

Eventually a low squelching sound reached Cade's ears, and he realized the man must be pleasuring himself to the sight of his ass. Every now and then, the horse would lean over and help himself to a pump from the bottle of lubricant. The squelching grew louder.

“You got a sloppy hole, girl," the horse said suddenly, as casually as a man passing the time during a long elevator ride with a comment about the weather. “How many loads you take tonight?"

Cade didn't answer, waiting for the man to finish his foreplay, but the silence dragged on, and something about the horse's menacing presence behind him seemed to demand a response. He compromised by shaking his head.

The horse snorted with laughter. “Right," he said, voice dripping with doubt. He rubbed the flat head of his cock up and down Cade's crack, every stroke dangerously close to penetrating him. “Nice and sloppy…" the horse said quietly, and Cade heard his voice taking on that distant quality of a man in the process of being consumed by some primal, hard-coded urge.

Cade clenched his hole to keep the horse out, grunting in objection. When the horse didn't seem to take the hint, he hissed, “Condom!"

“Yeah, yeah…" the horse said, but then Cade heard him reaching into the bowl to his left. Then came more pumping, more squelching, and then —

The horse was inside him. For one stupefying moment, Cade had felt his hole stretch wider than what he thought physically possible as the ridge of the horse's cockhead slipped past the rings of muscle.

“That's a good girl," the horse cooed, stroking Cade's quivering butt. “Take that big cock in your pussy."

Cade whimpered — not with pain, for there was little — but rather out of fear for what he was subjecting his body to. He vaguely remembered someone telling him about something about the sexual prowess of horses, but in the moment he didn't have the spare mental capacity to recall who or what.

There was so much of him. After the horse set his hooves, he began the strenuous process of fitting the rest of his cock in Cade's ass. Cade went pigeon-toed as the horse fed him inch after inch, biting down hard on a knuckle. He had yet to feel the band of skin he knew would roughly mark the halfway point of the horse's cock.

At one point, it felt as though the horse literally hit a wall inside him, and Cade let out a little sob of relief, but then the horse changed his angle of attack, and, horrorstruck, Cade felt some other portal of muscle being spread open before the horse tunneled even deeper.

“Fuck, I love how your pussy's gripping my cock," the horse said, stopping his progress and moving his hips so that his cock was kneading Cade's insides. “You want it, don't you…? Yeah? You want this cock?"

Cade nodded shamefully. The horse's degrading dirty talk was more insulting than arousing, the effort of taking his cock all-consuming, but…

It was working. It was Buck's cock in his hands times a thousand, the prostate massager times a million. And that was before the toe-curling, spine-tingling, prostate-milking sensation of the horse beginning to pull his cock back out of him.

“No loads, huh?" the horse said mockingly, but Cade wasn't sure if the man was asking for permission to take his condom off or challenging his earlier statement. Either way, all Cade was able to produce in response was a low gurgle.

Nothing could have prepared Cade for what came next. The horse shifted gears, and the speed and intensity with which he moved was, to Cade, beyond comprehension. All he could do was hold on and stuff his mouth full of sheets to stop himself from waking the entire neighborhood. At one point, he heard and felt a loud snap and thought that his insides had finally ruptured, but there was no pain, and the horse showed no signs of relenting.

For all he knew, he had already come — his cock was definitely leaking something — but he was in no state to check. Not only that, but he was drooling, and his eyes were streaming. The horse appeared to have found an off button for Cade's bodily functions somewhere in the depths of his bowels, and his cock was keeping it pressed.

Space and time lost all meaning. It could have been one minute, ten, or a thousand, until Cade felt the horse go so deep that he was lifted off the bed, and he had to grab the sheets with his toes to prevent himself from flipping forward. He shut his eyes in response to the uncomfortable feeling of being inflated — he assumed from the condom ballooning inside him — and then his knees touched down on the mattress again.

The horse was saying something, but it was hard to tell if they were words or the cries of sexual conquest. He pulled out roughly, splattering lube all over Cade's ass and the bed.

Beyond the tremendous sensation of emptiness left behind in the wake of the horse's cock, Cade felt something even more powerful: his balls, still throbbing, still unemptied.

“Wait — wait — don't stop…!" he gasped as he heard the man zip back up. “I didn't come yet — I'm so fucking close — please…! Just a little bit more…!"

For a moment all he could hear was his own panting. Then the horse moved and the floorboards creaked.

“You didn't come yet?" the man said. “Too fucking bad — I did. You think I give a shit about your little clit?"

And he was gone.

Cade crawled off the bed and toward the door in a futile attempt to catch the horse, a torrent of lube erupting from his hole, but his legs wobbled in protest, and he fell to a knee. Slumped in defeat at the foot of the door, he reached up and locked it instead.

He looked back in the direction of the bed, the trail of lube glistening in the dim light coming in through the blinds. It was hard to tell what hurt more: his hole or his balls.

He got up and hobbled back to the bed. Before he reached it, he heard sounds outside. He whirled around. There was a man on his porch, his outline silhouetted on the blinds. It wasn't a horse.

The man tried the door but found it locked. He tried it again, a little harder this time. Finally, he knocked.

Cade didn't move, didn't breathe. He could feel his pulse in his throat, his balls, and his stretched hole.

The silhouette shrank and disappeared.

Cade turned back to the bed, silently thankful that he had locked the door. He took a step and stopped, frowning.

There had been the guy who had come in less than a minute, then the guy with the curved cock, and then… He continued counting, the feeling of trepidation growing. He had invited six guys. The unknown man outside was number seven. Someone had shared his information.

He moved forward in a daze and stepped on something wet and warm. He lifted his foot.

There were three used condoms on the floor. One was a busted ring of rubber.

He looked over his shoulder at the trail on his floor, then to the mess on the towel. He put his hand in his wet crack, eyes wide, and his body went cold.

…

He opened his eyes and found that it was morning. He lay there on his side for a moment, blinking, trying to think of what was different. Then the realization hit him: He had slept through the night for the first time in… He couldn't remember how long.

He remained on his side for a minute, breathing slowly and allowing the rest of his body to wake up. He look out at the slivers of sky he could see through the cracks in the blinds.

It looked like the perfect day for the Fourth of July. Tonight, there would be fireworks, beer, food, and good times. The thought excited him.

Probing a little deeper, he found himself wrapped in calmness. He no longer cared about getting off — or even getting out of the cage. Perhaps he had reached some invisible milestone where his body had finally adapted to his cock being locked in cage. Perhaps he was imagining it. Either way, he found himself not at all worried about the weeks remaining until Kayla returned. She would unlock the cage, and that would be OK. Maybe she wouldn't. That would be fine too.

He rolled over and prepared to head to the bathroom. He had a house to clean, plans to make. Once on his left side, however, his hip made contact with something cold and wet.

He tore the sheets from the bed. There on the mattress, extending from the crusted tip of his cock, was a puddle of every emotion he had felt during the past 51 days, neatly and undramatically having been expelled from his body while he had slept.