Chapter 2: The Last Hurrah
The antiseptic chill of the clinic still clung to Anya’s skin like a second layer, even hours later. She stood outside Rune's door, the vibrant turquoise paint chipped in places, her knuckles hovering. Her chest felt tight, the new, strange awareness of the void between her legs a constant, low hum of anxiety beneath the doctor’s reassurances. Growing breasts, sensitive ass, soft cock… The words spun in her head. She needed familiarity. She needed Rune.
Taking a shaky breath, she knocked. The sound was swallowed by the thudding bass leaking from inside.
The door swung open, revealing Rune. Incense smoke – patchouli and something spicier – billowed out, framing their delicate figure. Long, platinum-blonde hair cascaded over slender shoulders, contrasting sharply with the tight, iridescent crop top and even tighter, shimmering hot pants they wore. Their face, soft-featured and beautiful, lit up with genuine surprise and delight."Anya! Hey! Wasn't expecting—" The smile faltered as they took in her pallor, the faint tremor in her hands, the haunted look in her green eyes. "Whoa. You look… not good. Like, really not good. What happened?"
Anya pushed past them, the scent of incense thick and cloying now, mixing unpleasantly with the clinic's lingering smell in her nose. Rune’s apartment was a kaleidoscope clash of plush velvet cushions in emerald and fuchsia, walls plastered with posters of androgynous club icons and erotic art, fairy lights strung haphazardly. A sleek, purple vibrator hummed softly on a low table beside a half-finished abstract canvas. The usual comforting chaos felt overwhelming.
"I… Rune," Anya started, her voice thin, the words catching. She sank onto a beanbag chair, the beads shifting beneath her. "Something impossible. Horrifying. Like, seriously fucked up impossible."
Rune perched on the edge of a velvet ottoman opposite her, concern etching their features. "Okay. Deep breaths, Red. Impossible is kinda my middle name. Try me." Their voice was gentle, a balm despite the pounding music filtering from another room.
Anya squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them open. She couldn't look at Rune. She stared at a poster of a lithe dancer instead, focusing on the curve of their spine. "My new toy. The suction one? The ‘Vortex Deluxe’?" She spat the name. "It… during… you know… it…" She gestured vaguely downwards, her face flushing crimson. "It sucked them out, Rune. Sucked them right out through my cock. Like… like fucking marbles through a straw!"
Silence. Thick, disbelieving silence, broken only by the thumping bass and the soft hum of the vibrator. Rune blinked, their large, expressive eyes wide. "It… sucked… what out?" They leaned forward slightly, their voice dropping to a whisper. "Your… balls?"
Anya nodded miserably. "I felt this horrible pop inside. Deep. And then… nothing. Just… empty skin. Like a deflated balloon." She finally met Rune's gaze, tears welling. "The doctor confirmed it. They're… gone. Like, medically gone. My balls are currently chilling in the bottom of a goddamn fleshlight back at my place."
Rune stared, mouth slightly agape. They looked down at Anya’s lap, covered by her loose yoga pants, then back up at her face, processing the sheer, surreal horror of it. Their delicate fingers twisted together. "Holy… shit, Anya. That's… wow. Like, award-winning levels of 'what the actual fuck'." They shook their head slowly, platinum hair swaying. "Are you… okay? I mean, physically? Right now?"
Anya barked a short, humorless laugh. "Define okay? Doc says I won't get hard anymore. Cock’s gonna get softer, maybe shrink. But…" She took a shuddering breath, the doctor’s other words surfacing through the panic. "But she also said… pleasure isn't gone. Nerves are still good. Touch should still feel nice. Just… soft. And my ass? She said it’ll get super sensitive. And my tits? Gonna grow. Libido might go up with the estrogen." The words tumbled out, a desperate mix of terror and bewildered hope.
"Huh," Rune murmured, their gaze thoughtful now, lingering on Anya’s chest for a beat before meeting her eyes again. A flicker of something unreadable passed through their expression – sympathy, certainly, but also a spark of intense curiosity. "So… no more boners. Ever. That’s… kind of final, huh?"
Anya nodded, a fresh wave of loss tightening her throat. "Yeah. Final."
Rune chewed their lower lip for a moment, the hum of the vibrator a counterpoint to the pounding music. Then, a slow, surprisingly gentle smile touched their lips, warm and genuine. "Shame," they said softly, their voice barely audible over the beat. "That little guy was pretty cute." Their gaze dropped pointedly to Anya’s lap again. "Seems a shame to let it go out without… you know… one last proper send-off? A final hurrah?"
Anya blinked, thrown off balance. "A… send-off?"
"Yeah." Rune’s smile widened, turning a little impish, but still suffused with kindness. "Like a retirement party. For Mr. Winky. Before it’s… just soft forever." They shifted off the ottoman, movements fluid like the dancer they were, and gracefully lowered themselves to their knees on the plush rug right in front of Anya. The low angle made their crop top ride up, revealing a sliver of smooth stomach. "Seems only fitting. You loved playing with it. Give it a proper goodbye."
Anya’s heart hammered against her ribs, a confusing cocktail of shock, residual terror, and a sudden, unwelcome jolt of something else entirely. Rune. On their knees. Talking about giving her cock a "send-off." It was absurd. Surreal. Yet, the raw vulnerability of the moment, the bizarre comfort Rune was offering in the only way they seemed to know how – through tactile, unflinching intimacy – cut through the numbness.
"Rune, I…" Anya stammered, her face burning hotter. "I don’t know if… I mean, it won’t even…"
"Shhh," Rune murmured, their voice a low, soothing hum that somehow cut through the club music. Delicate fingers, cool and soft, brushed the inside of Anya’s knee through the thin yoga pant fabric. "Let’s just see. Doc said touch feels good, right? Even if it’s soft?" Their green eyes, large and earnest, held Anya’s gaze. "Don’t think. Just… feel. One last time for the little trooper."
Before Anya could formulate another protest, Rune’s fingertips trailed higher, feather-light, tracing the crease of her thigh where it met her pelvis. The touch sent an unexpected shiver through her, not of arousal, but of profound sensitivity, a raw nerve exposed. Rune’s other hand joined, gently smoothing the loose fabric of her pants over her mound. There was no hardness beneath, just yielding softness, the undeniable absence beneath the layer of cotton.
Rune’s touch remained incredibly gentle, almost reverent. Their fingers found the waistband of her yoga pants. They paused, looking up at her, a silent question in their eyes. Anya’s breath caught. This was madness. Yet, the desperate need to feel something familiar, to reclaim a shred of control over her own body, warred with the shock. She gave the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod.
With infinite care, Rune hooked their thumbs into the waistband and eased the soft fabric down over Anya’s hips, past the thatch of red curls, down her thighs. The cool air of the apartment hit her exposed skin, making her gasp. The loose, empty sac hung limply beneath the base of her flaccid, 9 cm cock. Rune’s gaze didn’t shy away. Their expression wasn’t disgust or horror, but a deep, focused tenderness mixed with that unwavering curiosity. They saw the absence, the evidence of the impossible, and accepted it without flinching.
"Okay," Rune breathed, their voice barely a whisper now. The hum of the vibrator seemed louder. "Let's say goodbye properly." They shifted slightly closer on their knees. One delicate hand, cool and impossibly soft, cupped the empty scrotum with surprising gentleness, the pads of their fingers barely grazing the loose skin, acknowledging the void without probing it. The other hand, trembling almost imperceptibly, reached out. Not roughly. Not demanding. Slowly. Deliberately. Their fingertips, feather-light, brushed the very tip of Anya’s soft, unresisting cock.
The touch was barely there, a whisper of cool skin against sensitive flesh. Anya flinched, a gasp catching in her throat – not from pain, but from the sheer, overwhelming strangeness of it. Her cock lay utterly limp, a soft weight against her thigh, the skin where her balls should be loose and eerily flat beneath Rune’s other hand. "Easy, Red," Rune murmured, their voice a low thrum that vibrated through the bass still pulsing from the other room. "Just breathe. Feel it. It’s still yours."
Their fingers didn’t retreat. Instead, they traced the delicate ridge of her glans with infinite patience, the pad of their thumb brushing over the slit. It was a sensation Anya knew intimately, one that usually sparked instant heat. Now, it felt distant, muffled, like trying to hear through thick glass. Yet... something flickered. A tiny, almost imperceptible throb deep within the root, a ghost of the old fire. Hope, sharp and terrifying, pricked at her lungs.
"See?" Rune breathed, leaning closer, their blonde hair tickling Anya's bare knee. Their thumb circled the head again, a fraction firmer, watching Anya’s face intently. "Still there. Still connected." The scent of incense, patchouli and spice, suddenly seemed concentrated around Rune, enveloping Anya, mixing with the fading clinic smell and her own rising panic. Rune’s other hand shifted, their palm now a warm, gentle cradle supporting the base of her soft length, the loose skin beneath it. The touch wasn't sexual, not yet; it was grounding, acknowledging.
Anya squeezed her eyes shut, a tremor running through her. "It shouldn't... Rune, the doctor said... it’s dying." The words tasted like ash. She felt absurd, naked and vulnerable on the beanbag, her friend kneeling between her legs, discussing the impending death of her erection.
"Maybe," Rune conceded softly, their thumb brushing over that sensitive spot again. "But maybe not yet." Their gaze dropped back to her lap, a curious intensity burning in their green eyes. "Don't you wanna know? One last time? Before the light goes out?" Their fingers curled slightly, applying the faintest pressure, a coaxing rhythm starting along her shaft. "Don't think about the fleshlight. Don't think about the clinic. Just... feel this. Right now."
The plea cut through the numbness. The familiar path Rune’s touch traced, the whispered encouragement, the sheer presence of them kneeling there, focused entirely on her, on this fragile part of her that was slipping away... It was a lifeline thrown into a dark sea. Anya forced a breath out, shaky, trying to focus on the sensation, not the terrifying emptiness beneath. The ghost-throb came again, stronger this time, a distinct pulse beneath Rune’s circling thumb.
A tiny sigh escaped Anya, part relief, part despair. "It... tingles."
Rune’s smile was small, triumphant. "Yeah?" Their touch grew bolder, the pad of their thumb rubbing more firmly over her slit, slickening slightly with the pre-come starting to bead despite the softness. Their other hand shifted, fingers gently stroking the loose skin below, a paradoxical caress over the absence. "See? Still knows what feels good." They leaned in, their breath warm against Anya’s inner thigh. "Let it. Just let it happen, Anya."
The sensation amplified. The soft, patient friction focused on her head, the warm pressure along her shaft, the almost reverent exploration of the changed landscape below... it was overwhelming. The thrumming bass seemed to sync with the pulse she felt building deep inside her core, a slow, insistent beat against the void. Heat, genuine heat, began to bloom in her lower belly, chasing away some of the icy dread. She looked down, her red hair falling forward. Rune’s delicate fingers were working her soft flesh with focused tenderness.
And then, she saw it. A faint twitch. A subtle shift beneath her skin. The soft weight against Rune’s palm... stirred. It wasn't the familiar, eager surge. It was slow, hesitant, like a creature waking from a deep, cold sleep. The base thickened slightly, the skin drawing a fraction tighter. Rune hummed, low and satisfied, their thumb pressing more firmly, dragging a slick path down the shaft that was no longer entirely limp. "There you are," they whispered, almost to themselves. "Knew you weren't gone yet."
A jolt of pure, visceral sensation shot through Anya – pleasure, yes, sharp and unexpected, but laced with a profound, aching grief. This was goodbye. She could feel the effort in it, the strain. She gasped, her hand flying out to grip Rune’s shoulder, knuckles white. "Rune... it's... it's happening." Her voice cracked. "It's getting hard."
The hard knot of wood pressing against her palm surprised her. Solid. Real. Her own flesh responding despite the impossible void beneath it. Rune’s fingers danced with renewed confidence, tracing the hardening length, thumb swirling a slick circle over the leaking tip. "Told you," they breathed, their voice thick with incense smoke and something like reverence. "Still knows the way home." Their other hand cupped the loose skin gently, a paradoxical anchor.
Heat pooled deep in Anya’s belly, intense and terrifyingly familiar yet underscored by a raw, aching grief. This was borrowed time. Stolen pleasure. Every nerve screamed with heightened sensitivity, the doctor’s words echoing – super sensitive ass, growing tits – as Rune’s touch ignited a firework fuse deep inside her core. "Gods, Rune," she gasped, hips bucking weakly against their skilled ministrations. "It’s… too much… feels like…"
"Shhh, let it," Rune murmured, leaning forward, their breath hot on her inner thigh. Their blonde hair brushed her skin like silk. "Just feel it now. Don’t fight it. Let the little guy have his party." The rhythm intensified, fingers tightening slightly, thumb pressing firm and perfect against that sweet spot under the head. The bass from the other room seemed to pulse through her, vibrating up her spine.
The climax tore through Anya with shocking, brutal speed. Not the slow build she knew, but a sudden, deep convulsion, a violent thunderclap of sensation centered low in her pelvis. A choked cry ripped from her throat, ragged and desperate, as her cock pulsed hard in Rune’s grasp. Thick ropes splashed warm against her own stomach and Rune’s fingers, a final, defiant eruption. Her back arched off the beanbag, muscles locking, vision blurring at the edges – pure, unadulterated release tangled with the crushing weight of irrevocable loss.
As quickly as it seized her, it receded. The shuddering aftershocks faded into a profound, hollow stillness. Anya slumped back, panting, sweat cooling on her skin. Rune’s hand remained, gentle now, resting on her softening shaft. Anya looked down, blinking away the haze. Her cock, glistening and spent, was already shrinking. Retreating. The hardness melted away like ice under a sunlamp, leaving behind only soft, yielding flesh against Rune’s palm. The vibrant heat vanished, replaced by a familiar, chilling numbness below.
"Good party, buddy," Rune whispered softly, giving the now-flaccid length a final, almost affectionate stroke with their thumb. They withdrew their hands slowly, leaving Anya exposed on the beanbag, sticky warmth cooling on her skin. The incense hung heavy. The vibrator hummed pointlessly on the table.
Anya stared, unblinking, at the small, soft shape resting against her thigh. Utterly still. Utterly soft. A profound cold settled in her chest, deeper than the clinic’s antiseptic chill. The frantic pulse of minutes ago was a ghost. She touched it herself, just below the tip, a feather-light brush of her own fingertips. Nothing stirred. No throb, no flicker of life. Just… softness. Empty skin below. The doctor’s words echoed, cold and final: no more erections.
"Is it…?" Her voice was a rasp, barely audible over the thudding music. She couldn’t finish the question. Her green eyes, wide and suddenly fearful, locked onto the small, vulnerable form nestled in red curls. Was this the last time? The very last sight of it standing proud? The thought slammed into her, stealing her breath. The finality was a physical weight, crushing the fragile hope Rune had momentarily sparked. She kept staring, waiting for a sign, any sign, that it wasn’t over. But it lay utterly still. Soft.
The sticky warmth cooling on Anya’s stomach felt like a cruel joke. She stared at her soft cock, nestled limply in red curls, the loose skin beneath a stark reminder of the impossible void. "It’s really gone," she whispered, the words scraping her throat raw. The vibrant pulse from moments ago felt like a dream dissolving in harsh light. "That was… the last time."
Rune shifted on their knees, the plush rug imprinting patterns on their skin. They wiped their fingers absently on the edge of their shimmering hot pants, their gaze fixed on Anya’s lap, not with pity, but intense focus. "Maybe," they murmured, their voice low against the persistent thump of bass. "Or maybe… maybe the doc was wrong?" A spark of defiance lit their green eyes. "Maybe it just needs… different persuasion. Something besides goodbye."
Anya blinked, tears threatening again. "Rune, it was hard. Briefly. Then… nothing." She touched the soft flesh herself, a tentative brush. Utter stillness. "See?"
"See?" Rune countered, leaning forward again, their cool fingers gently pushing hers aside. "I see nerves. I see skin that just gave you a hell of a climax." Their thumb traced the ridge of her glans again, feather-light. Anya gasped, a jolt of pure sensation shooting through her pelvis, sharp and unexpected. Pleasure, yes, but utterly divorced from any hint of stiffness below. "See?" Rune repeated, a small, determined smile playing on their lips. "Still wired. Still hot. Just… different."
The simplicity of it hit Anya. The doctor had said pleasure remained. She’d just been too terrified to believe it, clinging to the ghost of her erection. Hope, fragile but real, flickered. "It… tingled," she admitted, her voice shaky. "When you touched it."
"Exactly!" Rune’s smile widened. "So let’s explore that. Forget trying to make it stand up. Let’s just… see what feels good now." Their fingers resumed their gentle exploration, circling the head, tracing the shaft, skimming the loose skin beneath – each touch deliberate, seeking reaction without expectation. Anya closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations blooming under Rune’s touch: the slick slide over sensitive skin, the cool air contrasting with the heat pooling low in her belly, the faint electric buzz radiating outward.
"Okay," Rune breathed after a moment, their voice husky with concentration. "Different approach." Before Anya could react, Rune dipped their head. Their lips, soft and unexpectedly cool, pressed against the very tip of her flaccid cock. Anya gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily. "Oh gods!" The sensation was immediate, intense – a direct line of pure, unfiltered pleasure radiating deep into her core, bypassing any need for hardness entirely.
Rune hummed softly, the vibration traveling straight through the soft flesh into Anya’s nerves. Their tongue flicked out, tasting, exploring the yielding skin with unhurried curiosity. They didn’t try to engulf her, didn’t demand anything she couldn’t give. Instead, they lavished attention solely on the head, swirling their tongue around the ridge, teasing the slit, sucking gently. Each movement sent shivers cascading through Anya’s body, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her hands fisted in the beanbag beads.
"It’s… oh fuck, Rune…" Anya moaned, arching her back. The pleasure was undeniable, building steadily, a deep, resonant thrum centered low in her pelvis. Yet her cock remained utterly soft against Rune’s lips, a soft weight yielding to their ministrations. The disconnect was bizarre, exhilarating. "It’s not… it’s not getting hard!"
"Doesn’t need to," Rune murmured against her skin, pausing only for a breath before diving back in, their tongue tracing intricate patterns. Their fingers joined, gently kneading the loose skin beneath, the paradoxical touch somehow amplifying the sensations flooding Anya. "Just feel it, Red. Where’s it going?"
The heat intensified, coiling tighter. Anya felt it spreading, not just localized, but radiating outward – into her lower belly, tingling down her thighs, even making her C-cup breasts feel heavier, more sensitive. The doctor’s words echoed: super sensitive ass, growing tits. Rune’s mouth was relentless, focused entirely on the soft flesh, drawing out slickness, coaxing whimpers from Anya’s throat. The pleasure wasn’t the sharp, focused peak she remembered; it was deeper, wider, a slow-building wave threatening to drown her.
"Rune… I’m… oh gods, I’m gonna…" Anya choked out, her fingers scrabbling against the beanbag. The peak approached, undeniable, but it felt different. Smoother. Less like being launched into space, more like sinking into a warm, deep ocean. Her soft cock pulsed faintly against Rune’s lips, a gentle throb utterly disconnected from any rigidity. Then it hit.
The orgasm washed over her like a warm tide. No violent convulsion, no desperate cry ripped from her lungs. Instead, a profound, shuddering release flowed through her entire body. A low moan escaped her lips, long and drawn-out, as pleasure radiated outwards from her core in slow, powerful waves. Her hips rolled gently, seeking the pressure of Rune’s mouth on her softness. Warmth spilled, not in forceful spurts, but in a gentle seep against Rune’s chin. It felt… diffuse. All-encompassing. Deeply, profoundly satisfying in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Anya slumped back, boneless, panting. The aftershocks were gentle ripples, fading slowly. Rune lifted their head, lips glistening, a smear of wetness on their chin. They looked at Anya’s lap. Still soft. Utterly unchanged. Yet Anya felt… spent. Satisfied. Wonderfully, strangely relaxed.
"See?" Rune whispered, wiping their chin with the back of their hand, their eyes shining with a mix of triumph and awe. They gently smoothed a stray curl from Anya’s damp forehead. "Still works. Just… differently." Their thumb brushed her cheekbone. "Still feels good?"
Anya took a deep, shuddering breath, the icy knot of panic finally dissolving. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face, tentative but real. "Yeah," she breathed, her voice thick with relief and lingering pleasure. "Yeah, Rune. It… it really did." She looked down at her soft cock, no longer with dread, but with a dawning curiosity. "It felt… deeper. Wider. Like…" She searched for the word. "Like drowning in honey."
Rune chuckled softly, shifting to sit beside her on the beanbag, their shoulder warm against hers. The incense smoke curled lazily around them. "Honey drowning sounds pretty damn good to me." They nudged her gently. "So… wanna see what else feels different?" Their gaze drifted pointedly towards Anya’s chest, then lower, a playful spark igniting in their eyes. "Doc mentioned your ass getting super sensitive…"