Mistress hadn't spoken directly in weeks. But her rules had. Nick's days were locked in schedule now. Wake. Kneel. Whisper. Clean. Moisturize. Plug. Pose. Record. The recessed cage stayed sealed the entire time—no stimulation, no release, no pressure. Just vibration when allowed. Just obedience. He didn't beg for freedom anymore. He didn't even hope. That part of him was gone. Whatever had once been his cock had long since disappeared. Forgotten. Pressed inward and melted under a month of denial. But then—one morning—it arrived. A black envelope. A key inside. And a single note: "I want to see what's left." His hands shook as he stripped. The lock turned with a soft click. The recessed cup loosened. He removed it slowly, expecting soreness, something recognizable. Instead… silence. No twitch. No swelling. No shape. Just smooth skin between his legs, parted slightly by pressure and time. A soft slit, barely open. Like his body had given up and folded into itself. His balls hung beneath it, limp, exposed, comically masculine beneath the nothingness above. He ran his fingers across the new flesh. It wasn't a cock. Wasn't even a clit. It was an opening. A suggestion. His own body had absorbed him. Mistress hadn't just taken his manhood—she'd let it erase itself. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just whispered, "Thank you, Mistress." And then he dressed. He needed to feel normal. Human. Real. So he left the house. Loose pants. No underwear. He walked through the plaza downtown like it didn't matter that the only thing between his legs was a pair of dangling balls and a soft, hidden hollow. That's when she approached him. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes like ice and fire. Her hair in a braid that fell over one shoulder. She wore tight jeans, a white top, heels. Confident. Curious. Gorgeous. "Hey," she said, catching his eye with a knowing smile. "I've seen you around here before." His mouth opened, no words came out. She didn't wait. "I'm Ava." She extended her hand. He shook it. Weakly. Her eyes dropped to his throat, then back to his eyes. "You're cute," she said. "Kind of soft. Pretty. Like you don't know what to do when someone flirts with you." He swallowed. She leaned in. "Wanna get a drink with me?" He nodded. She grinned. They walked together. His heart pounded. His clit—if it even existed—ached like a ghost. Ava led him two blocks down. They stopped in front of an apartment building. She pulled out her key, looked over her shoulder, and smiled. "You wanna come up?" He stared at her. At her lips. Her eyes. Her body. Then down—at nothing. Just smoothness under his clothes. He nodded again. She opened the door. And let him in.
