Chapter 7: Chapter 7
The Uber pulled up to the glass tower just as the morning gray was burning off. Derek stepped out on shaky legs, his blue skinny jeans tight around his thighs, the little cage pressing against the fabric. He'd slept like shit. His dreams had been full of Kai's voice, that low warm command, and he'd woken up with his dick straining uselessly against the steel and a dull ache in his guts from the salad.
He walked through the revolving door and there was Huo Xiao, waiting by the security desk. The man was tall and solid, maybe six foot two, wearing a black dress shirt tucked into charcoal slacks. His arms were thick where they crossed over his chest, forearms dusted with dark hair, and his face had that flat, unreadable calm that made Derek feel like a sparrow in front of a cat. Huo Xiao didn't smile. He just turned and said, "Follow me."
They went down the corridor past the elevators, through a door marked STAFF ONLY, and into the locker room. It was tiled white and clean, rows of gray lockers, a long wooden bench down the center. Huo Xiao stopped by the bench and gestured. "Strip. Everything."
Derek swallowed. His throat was dry. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, folding it in his hands for a second before setting it on the bench. Then the jeans, undone with trembling fingers. The white briefs came last. He stood there in the cold air, skinny as a rail, his ribs visible, his collarbones sharp. His thighs were thin, almost hairless, and his arms hung at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. The cage was a small silver lump at the base of his soft cock, barely covering anything. He looked at his bare feet and hated how pale they were.
Huo Xiao circled him slowly. He stopped behind Derek, and Derek felt the man's gaze moving over his back, his ass, the hollow of his spine. "You've lost weight," Huo Xiao said. It wasn't a question.
Derek's face went hot. "I've been eating the salads."
"Good. You'll eat more of them. Need to be leaner." Huo Xiao tapped the inside of Derek's right thigh with two fingers, almost clinical. "Muscle burns energy. Energy we need for other things."
Derek felt his cock twitch inside the cage. He hated it. He hated that Huo Xiao's cold touch could do that. Kai's voice drifted up from his memory, warm and amused. "Good boy. Your body knows what it wants now. Let it."
Huo Xiao moved to a steel table against the wall where a digital scale sat. He set the machine to zero and nodded at Derek. "Get on."
Derek stepped up. The scale hummed and settled at 123 pounds. Huo Xiao noted it on a clipboard, then took a measuring tape and worked it around Derek's chest, his waist, his hips. Derek stood with his arms out, feeling like a piece of meat on a butcher's block. Huo Xiao's hands were dry and sure, no hesitation. When the tape came around Derek's waist, the man's knuckles brushed his ribs, and Derek could smell him. Clean soap, something faintly herbal. He imagined Huo Xiao's chest under that dress shirt, broad and smooth and warm, and had to look at the floor.
"Today we're having the technicians do your prep," Huo Xiao said, writing on the clipboard. "Watch closely. You'll be doing this yourself soon enough."
Derek blinked. "I thought I'd learn from you."
Huo Xiao looked at him over the clipboard, dark eyes flat. "I have other things. The technicians are better at this anyway. And they're changing your cage."
Derek's stomach dropped. "Changing it? Why?"
"You've shrunk. The cage is too roomy." Huo Xiao said it like he was noting the weather. "You need a smaller fit. More secure."
Derek's hand moved down, instinctively, to cover his cock. Huo Xiao's eyebrow went up a fraction, and Derek dropped his hand like he'd been burned. The shame was a hot coal in his chest, and underneath it, that other thing. That terrible flicker of want. Kai's voice again, softer now. "You don't need to hide from us, little faggot. This body is ours now."
The locker room door swung open and the two technicians came in. Derek recognized them by the way they moved, silent and purposeful. The one who'd carried him before was tall and lean, with a buzzed scalp that showed the shape of his skull, a long neck, and a jaw cut sharp as glass. Dark stubble shaded his cheeks and chin, and his arms were wiry, ropy with muscle, veins standing out along the forearms. He wore a gray scrub shirt with the sleeves pushed up, showing the tendons moving under his skin. His eyes went over Derek once, no expression, and he started toward the douching room.
The second technician was a different kind of beautiful. He was shorter, broader, maybe twenty-seven, with a thick neck that sloped into massive shoulders. His face was rounder, smooth-cheeked, his hair a glossy black bowl cut that looked almost boyish against his build. His scrubs were a size too small across the chest, and Derek could see the outlines of his pecs, hard and defined. He had a mole under his left eye and a small gold chain at his throat, and he didn't look at Derek at all. He just followed his partner through the door like Derek was furniture.
Derek's cock strained against the cage. He hated himself for it. These men didn't see him as anything. They saw him as a thing to process, a routine. And that was the thing that got him hot, wasn't it. The fact that they could ignore him completely, that they were so far above him that he wasn't even worth a glance. He wondered what the second technician looked like without that scrub top. The broad chest, the smooth golden skin, maybe a trail of dark hair from his navel down into his waistband. And his dick. That heavy low swing in his shorts, thick and soft, the way he probably stood over Derek's little white body and never thought about it.
The first technician said something to Derek in Chinese, his voice was low, flat. He'd stopped at the doorway, one hand on the frame, looking back over his shoulder. Derek couldn’t understand a word but he assumed it meant he should follow .
Derek scurried after them. His bare feet slapped on the tile. He saw Huo Xiao's eyes on him, cold and patient, and then the door closed behind him.
The douching room was small and white, a stainless steel counter along one wall, a drain in the center of the floor, and a hose coiled on a hook. The second technician was already at the counter, running water, testing the temperature with his wrist. The first technician spoke in Chinese as he gestured and pointed at the metal platform in the middle of the room. "Kneel on it. Face the wall. Elbows down." He instructed in Chinese. Derek couldn’t understand, but the accompanying hand gestures got the idea across.
Derek got on his hands and knees, facing the tiled wall. The platform was cold under his palms. He could feel them moving behind him, the soft rustle of scrubs, the creak of the counter. Then the second technician’s hands came to his hips, firm, turning him just slightly, spreading his cheeks. No word. No warning. Just the cool touch of a gloved finger against his hole, testing, and then the lubed metal nozzle was there.
The water hit him warm and steady. He still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling, the strange pressure filling him up, and his whole body tensed. The technician’s palm pressed flat against the small of his back, steadying him.
Derek tried to relax. He took a breath and let it out slow, and he felt the water find its way deeper inside him. The fullness was strange, almost good in a way he didn't want to admit. He thought about the new dildo, wondered if it was bigger, and his cock pushed uselessly at the cage.
The other technician stood off to the side, watching. Derek could see him out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed, the lean muscle of his forearms bunching. He was looking at Derek's ass, at the water running out of him, with the same expression a man might wear checking a pressure gauge. Clinical. Bored. The boredom was the most degrading part of it, and Derek felt his face burn.
They made him hold it, then release it into the drain. Then they did it again. The second time, the technician worked a gloved finger in alongside the nozzle, stretching Derek's hole, finding the depth.
Then he pulled the nozzle out and set it aside. The water drained away, leaving Derek empty and trembling. Then the first technician was there, and it wasn't the same look as before. The tall man's eyes flickered down to Derek's cage, and Derek knew it must be time to change it.
The new cage came out of a small metal box. It was absurdly small. Just a thin steel tube and a ring, maybe an inch and a half long, barely enough to cover the head of a flaccid cock. The first technician unlocked the old one and slid it off, and Derek's soft dick flopped against his thigh, pale and small. He felt exposed, pathetic, standing there in front of these two big men with his little cock hanging out. The second technician didn't even look at it. He just handed the new cage over.
The first technician’s fingers were dry and sure as he guided Derek's soft cock into the tiny tube. It was tight. Derek hissed at the pressure, the way the steel pressed against him from all sides, impossible to ignore. There was no room for anything, no room for a single pulse of growth. The man fitted the ring and lock and clicked it shut with a small metallic sound.
Derek looked down at himself. The cage was so small it looked like a gumball machine prize. His balls hung loose and heavy-looking underneath, the contrast obscene. He felt his dick straining to get hard and finding nothing, the steel crushing every attempt. It hurt and it was perfect and he hated how much he wanted to run his fingers over it just to feel himself shut away.
The two technicians walked Derek, naked except for the tiny metal chastity cage, to the locker room, where his training clothes waited for him in his designated locker.
Derek put on the day-wear clothes, the white briefs slipping over the cage, the thin jeans zipping up over the tiny lump. The holes in the fabric lined up exactly with his sore, worked-over hole. The pale blue t-shirt smelled faintly of industrial laundry detergent, and it was threadbare in a way that made him look younger, smaller. He followed the technicians down the corridor, shoelaces flapping against the polished floor.
The training room was the same as before. White, windowless, the contoured chair in the center with its straps and the machine on its stand. But the dildo was different. Derek's heart seized when he saw it.
It was huge. Eight inches at least, and thick. Not thick at the base like the others had been, but wide all the way from the crown to the root, a solid column of black silicone with girth that Derek's eyes couldn't even quite believe. The head was blunt and heavy, and there was a hint of vein texture on the shaft, almost realistic. It looked like it could split him in two. It looked like it was made for a man twice his size.
The second technician was lubing it up, gloved hands working slick gel over the whole length. Derek watched, frozen, his insides clenching with a terror that was edged, somehow, with hunger. The first technician gestured at the chair and said something in Chinese . "Sit."
Derek climbed into the chair. The faux leather was cold against his thighs. The straps came around his ankles, his wrists, his waist, snug and immovable. The second technician was on the other side now, fitting the nasal cannula. The poppers were already in place, and the smell hit him, sharp and chemical, and his head went fuzzy around the edges.
He looked down at the chair between his spread legs. He could see the dildo on its gimbal, raised on its stand, glistening with lube. It was pointed at him. The head was bigger than his fist, and Derek thought about it going inside him, all that width, all that stretch, and a low moan escaped him before he could stop it.
The first technician’s head turned. Derek caught his eye. The man's face was still flat, still bored, but there was a flicker, a tiny shift in the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile. Almost a thought about him.
Then the VR headset came down over Derek's face, and the world went dark.
Then the VR headset came down over Derek's face, and the world went dark.
A soft chime rang in his ears. The black dissolved into a bright, clean studio. White walls, warm track lighting, a treadmill behind a glass partition, and there was Kai, shirtless, leaning against a weight bench with his arms folded. He wore gray gym shorts that sat low on his hips, the drawstring loose, and his chest was smooth and golden, each muscle defined under the light. The pecs, the cut of his abs, the dark trail of hair from his navel down into the waistband. Kai smiled, and it was a big, friendly smile, a salesman's smile, and it turned Derek's insides to jelly and tar in equal measure.
"Welcome back, buddy!" Kai said, and his voice was bright, almost singsong. "I’m glad to see you again. Today we're going to have some real fun. We're going to work on depth. And width. And a few other things that are going to make you feels so good."
Derek's cock strained against the nub of steel. There was no room. There was so little room that the strain was just pressure, a dull throb that went nowhere.
A graphic appeared in the air beside Kai. A cross-section of a body, the outline of an ass, a glowing line leading in. "Section One," Kai said, pointing at it like a game-show host. "Relaxation. Now, buddy, this is a big toy we've got for you today. It's eight inches long, and it's wide from tip to base. That's a lot . That's more than most guys will ever take, let alone a little faggot like you. But that's okay. Because we're going to get you there."
The chair hummed. Derek felt the dildo's head press against his hole, blunt and huge. The lube was cold, numbing, spreading through his entrance like frost. He clenched and the head pushed anyway, steady, patient. The pressure built until his rim was hugging the widest part of the crown, stretching, burning with a distant, muffled ache.
"That's it, buddy," Kai said warmly. "Just breathe for me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The poppers are doing their job, right? Let that noise go. Feel it."
Derek inhaled. The poppers hit his brain in a warm rush, and the chair tilted him slightly, canting his hips, opening him. The head slid in. Derek gasped, a sound that came out thin and broken, and his whole body shook with the sudden feeling of being filled.
"How does that feel?" Kai asked, and the diagram swirled, showing a cross-section of the dildo inside a tiny outline of a body. "Does it feel good? It's supposed to. You've got a lovely, stretchy hole, buddy. You were made for this."
Derek stared at Kai's chest, the golden planes of muscle, the flat discs of his nipples, the way his arms folded made his biceps swell. He imagined those arms holding him down. He imagined Kai's cock in place of this dildo, and his mouth went dry.
"Section Two," Kai said, clapping his hands. The diagram changed. "Opening. Now here's the thing about your butt. It's a ring of muscle. And rings like to stay closed. That's their job, right? But we're going to teach yours a new job. We're going to make it stay open for us. Like a good little door."
The dildo pushed deeper. The numbing lube made it feel like a foreign object, huge but muffled, stretching him from the inside. Derek felt his inner ring catch on the widest part of the shaft, felt it stretch, felt it give. A wave of pressure rolled through his gut. He moaned.
"Do you want to take it deeper?" Kai asked, rhetorical, cheerful. "Of course you do. You're a natural little cocksleeve. I can see it in you. You've got that look. The look of a boy who dreams of being stuffed full of Chinese cock until he can't think of anything else."
A new section of the shaft slipped inside. Derek's hands clawed at the armrests. There were still inches to go. He could feel the dildo's head somewhere deep in his guts, moving slowly, pressing. The numbness was fading from the inside, replaced by a throbbing fullness, a pressure against his prostate that made his whole pelvis hum.
"Section Three," Kai said, and the word hung in the air like a gift. "Depth. Now I'm going to keep this simple, because I know this is a lot for you, buddy. I know that little brain of yours is spinning. So here's the only thing you have to remember: You are a hole. That's your job. That's your whole job. Holes don't think. Holes don't worry. Holes just open and take."
The dildo pressed deeper, another inch, another stretch. Derek felt his inner ring give again, felt the heat and pressure move up inside him, and something shifted behind his eyes. A kind of surrender. The poppers were singing through his blood, and the pressure in his ass was so vast it was almost a light, and he heard himself make a sound that was half moan, half sob.
"Good boy," Kai said warmly. "Now, let's review. Can you tell me what you are? Out loud, buddy."
The expected answer appeared in the VR screen. All Derek had to do was read it out loud.
Derek's throat was dry. The dildo had paused, held at a depth that felt like it was splitting him. He panted, his voice a croak. "I'm a hole."
"That's right!" Kai beamed. A little animated emoji of a cartoon fist appeared in the air next to him. "And who do you open your hole for?"
Again, the expected answer flashed in front of him. Derek knew he would not have to think of any of the answers himself. The dildo pushed another inch. Derek saw white at the edges of his vision. "Chinese men."
"Mmm, yes. And what are they?"
"Superior. They're superior."
Kai walked toward the camera, and in the VR he seemed to tower over Derek, his body filling the frame. He crouched, and now he was level with Derek's eyes, close enough that Derek could see the tiny mole at the corner of his mouth, the gold flecks in his dark irises. He smiled, and it was kind, and it was condescending, and it was the most beautiful thing Derek had ever seen.
"You're doing so well," Kai said softly. "A little white faggot, so open, even though he's so stupid. You're going to take this whole thing, aren't you? Aren't you, buddy?"
"Yes," Derek breathed. "Yes, I'm going to take it."
Kai reached out and, in the VR, touched Derek's jaw. It wasn't a real touch. But Derek felt his whole body lean into it anyway, desperate for it. "That's my good little hole."
The dildo moved again. Deeper. There was a belt of warm pressure around Derek's stomach, and he could see the shape of it moving in the diagram, the huge column inside his tiny outline. More of the shaft was going in, an inch he hadn't known he had, a stretch he hadn't known he could take. The numbing lube was still thick and the stretch was intense now, a burning ring of muscle that was grinding wider and wider to accommodate the sheer width of the thing.
"That's it," Kai said, voice warm and encouraging. "Keep going. You can take it, buddy. You're the perfect little stress-relief asset. Spending all that energy inside this nice, warm hole beats getting angry in traffic any day."
Derek's dick was a crushed, aching nothing inside the steel. There was no blood to fill it, no room for a single pulse. And yet his ass was a living thing, a wide, stretched, singing tunnel of heat, and the pleasure, the strange deep pleasure of being so completely filled, was coiling up his spine like a snake. He panted, drool slipping down his chin, and he heard himself keening.
"Review time," Kai said, bright. "What are we doing today?"
Again, the answers appeared on the screen.
"Stretching my hole," Derek gasped.
"And what does that make you feel?"
"Stupid. It makes me feel stupid."
Kai laughed, a warm delighted sound. "And is that bad, buddy?"
"No, it's good. It feels like... I'm supposed to be this."
The dildo seated itself fully inside him. Derek felt it bottom out, the head pressing against some deep fullness, the entire length of his guts rearranged around eight inches of solid rubber. He screamed, a thin sound, and then he was crying, and then he was laughing, and the poppers were a warm wave washing over it all.
Kai was grinning at him, arms crossed, chest gleaming under the studio lights. "Look at you. Full all the way. Good boy, buddy."
Derek stared up at him, panting, and the shame was gone, washed away by the fullness, replaced by something that felt like devotion. He wanted it to press deeper. He wanted it to go further than it physically could. He wanted to be nothing but this, a hole, a stretch, a stupid little faggot filled up with Chinese cock-sized rubber, and the want was so big it scared him.
Kai's voice came again, softer, almost a whisper in his ear. "We're just getting started, buddy. There's a whole lot more of this coming for you. And you're going to love it."
Derek felt his hole clench around the shaft, felt his body trying to push it out and failing, and beneath the failure there was the strangest, strongest thread of craving. The machine began to move, a slow, deep withdrawal, and Derek's whole body followed it, trying to keep it inside, not wanting to feel that emptiness. He heard himself beg.
"Please. Don't take it out."
Kai's smile widened. The diagram swirled, and a new title card bloomed in the air: Section Four. Endurance.
The machine started its first slow withdrawal, and Derek's entire body followed it. His hips lifted half an inch off the chair, his heels digging into the restraints, his fingers scrabbling at the leather armrests. The huge head dragged against his inner ring, a long slow burn of pressure, and then it pushed back in, deep and thick, and the emptiness was gone. He sucked in a ragged breath and held it. The poppers hit him behind the eyes like a warm slap.
"Easy, buddy," Kai said. "Nice and slow. This part is endurance. A lot of that is mental. Your body can do this. It really can. Your hole is made to be stretched, made to stay open for people like me. All we're doing is reminding it of the truth."
The dildo moved out again, inch by wide inch, until only the huge crown remained inside Derek. He felt the stretch of it, the seal of his rim around the blunt head, the absurd weight of it resting just inside him. Then it sank back to full depth, and the pressure bloomed into a deep ache around his prostate that made his whole pelvis hum.
Kai was walking around the studio now, the camera tracking him. He stopped at a rack of weights and picked up a dumbbell with one hand, curling it lazily, and Derek watched the smooth golden muscle of his bicep swell and harden. His shoulder was broad and round, the deltoid capped like armor, and a thin sheen of studio sweat made his chest gleam.
"Here's the hard truth, buddy. In a few weeks you're going to have a real hand inside you. A real fist. A real arm, right up to the wrist, or even deeper. Maybe an arm just like mine .Or one of my fellow Chinese alphas. Those fists are big. They're thick. And you are going to take them, because you need to, and because your hole wants to." Kai set the dumbbell down and crouched, elbows on his knees, looking at the camera with an unreadable calm. "So we're going to train your hole to stay open. To stay warm. To stop fighting us."
The dildo kept moving. In and out, a slow wide range, never fully leaving him. The rhythm was patient, relentless, a tide. Derek felt his inner ring pull tight around the crown on every withdrawal, felt it give on every thrust, and the song of it was a low constant moan he couldn't stop making. His hands were fists on the armrests.
A diagram bloomed beside Kai: a giant hand, one finger up. Then a caption typed itself out under it, yellow letters on blue: PACE YOURSELF. DO NOT RUSH. LET THE STRETCH HURT A LITTLE AND THEN RELEASE.
"Endurance is about learning to sit with the ache," Kai said. "To breathe through it. When I push, you push back against me. When I hold, you hold with me. That's the dance. That's the whole game."
The dildo bottomed out and stopped. Held. Derek panted, the fullness now a constant pressure against his guts, the head pressing somewhere deep and secret. The poppers were eating away at the edges of his panic, turning the pressure into something warm and heavy. He heard himself make a sound like a whine. The emptiness between breaths felt huge.
"In through your nose," Kai said, and a small timer ticked in the corner of the VR display. "Hold it. Count to four. Now out through your mouth, slow. Feel your belly soften. Feel that stretch wander deeper. That's right, buddy. Give it to me. Give me your ass."
Derek did. He breathed. He held. He let the stretch bleed through him, and it was there that the shame finally wasn't. Because when the dildo started sliding out again, he wanted it back so badly his hole was clenching around the crown, trying to suck it in.
"That's it," Kai breathed. "By now I bet you’re already gripping. You're already begging with your ass. A little faggot's manners."
The diagram changed again, this time a long list of bullet points running down the wall: FORGET YOUR LITTLE COCK. IT'S BEEN LOCKED UP FOR A REASON. THIS HOLE IS YOUR MONEY MAKER. THIS HOLE IS YOUR SWEET LITTLE TALENT. ALL OF YOUR ENERGY GOES HERE NOW. STAY SOFT, STAY OPEN, STAY EMPTY-HEADED. YOU ARE BETTER AS A HOLE.
Kai read them aloud, his voice warm and slow, and on the wall behind him a giant screen flickered with images of his own chest, him gripping a bench press, the sweat running down the deep groove of his abs. Derek watched a bead of sweat track from Kai's collarbone down the center of his chest, over the hard nub of a nipple, and disappear into the waistband of his shorts. He imagined following it with his tongue. He imagined Kai's cock, thick and heavy, sliding into him instead of this machine, and his hole squeezed around the wide rubber shaft hard enough to make him gasp.
The dildo pushed in again. Deeper this time, a hair further, and Derek's eyes rolled back. The fullness was so absolute it was almost pain, and the pain was so close to pleasure it was the same thing. He was being stretched wider than he'd ever been, and he was doing it with his body, on purpose, and the truth of that was smothering his thoughts like a warm wool blanket.
"Let's talk about the people you're going to serve, buddy." Kai walked to the glass partition and looked out at a skyline that wasn't real, a cityscape of glass towers under a rising sun. "Chinese men. We built civilizations while your ancestors were still figuring out fire. We built walls that have stood for two thousand years. We don't rush. We don't panic. We just keep building, keep pushing, keep taking what's ours." He turned back to the camera, his face unreadable. "And you're ours now. A little hole, carved and stretched by us, for us. There's a reason men here want you, buddy. It's not because you're beautiful. You're not. It's because you're small, and you're pathetic, you're white, and you breathe through your mouth like a dog in heat."
Derek's face was burning. He could feel the blush on his cheeks, his neck, his chest. And he could feel his hole, wide and open around the toy, pulsing with a slow needy rhythm he couldn't control.
"You don't think for yourself anymore, and that's fine, because you never did it well. You don't have a cock that matters to anyone. Not even to you, right?" Kai's grin widened, all teeth. "Right, buddy? That little nub in that little cage. It's just decoration now. It'll never be good for anything again. It's gone, buddy. You traded it. And don't you feel lighter? Isn't it a relief that you never have to think about it again?"
Derek looked down, even though in VR he was strapped to the chair and the only thing he could see was his own trembling thighs. He knew the cage was there, a small steel lump crushing his soft dick. He couldn't feel a single pulse of want from it. All the wanting was lower, deeper, a raw hunger in his hole that was being fed in slow, endless strokes.
Kai's voice dropped lower, a warm growl. "I'm glad you're feeling that, buddy. The little confusions are fading. You're becoming something simpler. You're becoming something true." He stepped closer, and his body filled the VR frame, the camera so close Derek could see the fine dark stubble along his jaw, the tiny mole under his lower lip, the dark curl of hair visible at the top of his open shorts. "You're going to stay a while. You're going to stay until you can take this thing all the way in and not even whimper. And then you're going to thank me, into the mic, so we can hear you. Thank your Instructor."
The dildo began to move faster. Shorter strokes, but harder, working deep at an angle that pressed directly against the soft bundle of nerves inside him. Derek's whole pelvis was on fire. He heard himself sob. He heard himself say it, the words thin and high and certain: "Thank you, Instructor Kai. Thank you. Please. Keep going, please."
"That's a good little hole," Kai said. The bullet points on the wall began to blur and re-form into a single looping line: GOOD HOLES THANK THEIR INSTRUCTORS. GOOD HOLES STAY OPEN. GOOD HOLES ARE FOREVER PATIENT. GOOD HOLES ARE FOREVER FULL.
Derek lost time. The dildo kept its slow cruel rhythm, and Kai kept talking, a warm stream of words that washed over him like bathwater. Descriptions of his own hands, thick and strong. Descriptions of fists, knuckles, whole forearms sliding into willing holes. Descriptions of Chinese superiority, ancient and endless. Derek's jaw hung open, drool sliding down his chin. The stretched hole had become a doorway, a passage, a place the world could flow through. He was nothing but the walls of a tunnel, and the tunnel was being held open.
At some point he realized there was no more moaning coming out of him. There was only breathing, and the steady push and pull, and the soft sound of lube. Inside the chair, inside his body, the huge shaft was like a second spine.
The timer on the wall hit zero. Kai looked at it, then at the camera, and his face switched from the warm salesman to something quieter, almost fond. "Good work, buddy. That's it for today. You did everything a good little asset should. Now I want you to drift for me. Let the stretch settle. Let your hole remember what it's holding. You don't need to think anymore."
The world dissolved. The VR headset lifted away, and Derek blinked up at the white ceiling of the training room. The fluorescent lights were too bright. He was panting, and the dildo was still buried full up inside him, a solid weight of rubber, a slow throbbing pressure against his insides that he couldn't push out.
In front of him stood Zhang Ming, with his glasses, a clipboard, and a new, slightly different checkered shirt, ready to administer the day’s survey.
Zhang Ming adjusted his glasses and flipped a page on the clipboard. He did not look at the dildo buried in Derek's ass. He did not look at Derek's face. He looked at a column of numbers on his sheet, and his pen tapped twice against the paper.
"Session duration two hours, ten minutes. Dildo size, eight inches long. Girth seven inches at the crown, seven at the base." He looked up, his eyes flat and gray behind the square lenses. "That's a millimeter away from a record for a first-time asset at this depth. You should be pleased."
Derek's mouth opened. What came out was a wet, shapeless sound. The dildo shifted inside him and his whole body clenched around it, a reflexive squeeze that made the machine whir briefly before settling back to stillness.
"I'm not sure if that's pleasure or pain," Zhang Ming said. He made a note. "We'll see what the survey says. You know the rules. Ten questions. Answer with the letter and the full statement. Please try to be honest. You are being monitored through the straps; we will know if you're lying."
The nasal cannula hissed. Derek took a breath of poppers and the world tilted, the white walls softening at the edges, the weight in his gut glowing like a coal.
"Question one," Zhang Ming said. "The dildo you just took is eight inches long and seven inches wide. How did that feel inside you? A, it was painful and I want it out. B, it was a shock, but my hole held it, and that made me dizzy. C, it's the most complete I've ever felt, and I want it deeper."
Derek's throat worked. The answer he wanted to give was A. His body wanted to give B, because it had held it, and that was true, and the truth was a dizzy thing. But C was the answer that made his hole squeeze around the rubber like a fist.
He took another hit of poppers.
"B," he said. "It was a shock, but my hole held it, and that made me dizzy."
Zhang Ming wrote. His pen was quick, efficient. "Question two. Now that it's fully seated inside you, what do you feel toward the men who trained you to take it? A, embarrassment at being pushed so far. B, gratitude for teaching me what my body can do. C, worship, because only Chinese men could have opened me like this."
Derek stared at the ceiling. The dildo pressed against his prostate and a jolt of heat ran through him. He could feel his hole clinging to the shaft, trying to milk it, and the shame of that was a bright clean thing against the popper fog.
"B," he said. "Gratitude for teaching me what my body can do."
Zhang Ming's pen didn't pause. "Question three. Compared to the men in this office, what are you? A, an employee like any other. B, a small and obedient helper. C, a white faggot whose only value is the hole between his legs."
The words landed like a slap. Derek felt them hit his skin and slide off, the poppers making them slippery. He thought of the cafeteria. The men in their suits, the cooks with their thick arms, Li Wei with his friendly smile. None of them had seen him. None of them would ever see him. He was a thing in a basement being opened up by a machine.
"C," he said, and his voice came out steady in a way it hadn't been all day. "I'm a white faggot whose only value is the hole between my legs."
Zhang Ming made a small checkmark. "Question four. When the survey is over and you stand up, the dildo will be removed. What will you miss most about it? A, the pain I know it'll leave behind. B, the constant pressure against deep inside me. C, the way it makes me completely full, so every thought is about my hole."
Derek tried to picture standing up. He tried to picture the emptiness, and his gut twisted with a loss so sharp it surprised him. The dildo was heavy inside him, a foreign weight that had become the center of his existence.
"C," he said.
Zhang Ming paused and looked up at Derek. He fixed his glasses, looking a little frustrated. “You have to say the full answer. That way I know I heard you correct.”
Derek blushed. Even though he was fully dressed, he felt completely naked in front of Zhang Ming, sitting in this contraption with a huge dildo fully in his ass, high on poppers, answering these humiliating questions. He took a breath and tried again.
“C, the way it makes me completely full, so every thought is about my hole."
Zhang Ming. made a checkmark on the clipboard and continued.
"Question five. The technicians changed your cage today to a smaller one. How do you feel about that? A, embarrassed that I'll never be hard again. B, relieved that my cock isn't something I have to think about. C, grateful that I'm locked so completely, because I know I'm too stupid to be trusted with myself."
Derek's thoughts strayed down his locked nub. The cage was there, a tiny steel nub, crushing him. He could feel the pressure of it, the constant denial. And beneath the pressure, a sick pulse of rightness.
"B," he said. "Relieved that my cock isn't something I have to think about."
Zhang Ming looked up. His eyes met Derek's, and there was nothing in them. No approval, no disgust, no curiosity. Just the blank professionalism of a man recording data.
"Question six. What did Instructor Kai's voice do to you during this session? A, it made me hate myself. B, it made me feel calm and obedient. C, it made me feel like worshiping him, because a man like that could only ever see me as a hole."
Derek's eyes stung. Kai's face was behind his eyelids, that golden chest, that warm smile, the way he had called Derek buddy like it was an endearment and an insult at the same time. He could still hear the voice, low and patient, telling him he was a hole, that he was made for this, that he didn't need to think.
"C," Derek said, “it made me feel like worshiping him, because a man like that could only ever see me as a hole.”
"Question seven. After this session, what do you think you'll be dreaming about tonight? A, the machine and the pain. B, Instructor Kai's voice telling me I'm a good boy. C, the feeling of being so full that I forget my own name."
The poppers hit him again. The room tilted slower this time, a warm tide. Derek's mind had already started to empty. He could feel it, the way he'd felt it during the session, the thoughts dissolving like sugar in water until there was only the weight inside him.
"C," he said, begrudgingly, “the feeling of being so full that I forget my own name." He really couldn’t remember his name at that moment. His mind was almost completely blank. He was a hole, and facing him, was Zhang Ming.
Zhang Ming wrote Derek’s answer and continued. "Question eight. What is your purpose in this office? A, to work a job and go home. B, to be trained and to serve the men who use me. C, to exist as a fleshy toy, open and available for any Chinese man who needs relief."
Derek thought about the apartment. The weed on the counter. The empty hours between sessions. He thought about the cafeteria, the salad, the way his body was shrinking into something lighter, easier to lift and bend. There was no job anymore. There was only this, the training, the fullness, the waiting.
"C," he said, “to exist as a fleshy toy, open and available for any Chinese man who needs relief."
"Question nine. If you could say one thing to the men who will eventually fist you, what would it be? A, be gentle with me. B, I'll try to be good. C, please don't stop until I can't think at all."
Derek's hole clenched around the shaft. The thought of a fist, a real fist, knuckles and palm and wrist, sliding into him. It was impossible. It was too much. And his body was already begging for it, a hunger so deep it made his teeth ache.
"C," he whimpered, “please don't stop until I can't think at all.”
Zhang Ming made a final note. "Question ten. When this session is over and you're back in your apartment, what will you do with your hands? A, touch myself through the cage and be frustrated. B, eat the salad they gave me and wait for tomorrow. C, lie on my bed imagining every Chinese man I saw today and dream about tomorrow when I get stretched again."
The question landed in Derek's gut with the weight of the dildo. He thought about the apartment, the empty walls, the silence. He thought about his hands and what they'd do without this, without the machine, without Kai's voice. There was nothing left in him that remembered how to want anything else.
"C," Derek said. "I'll lie on my bed imagining every Chinese man I saw today and dream about tomorrow when I get stretched again."
Zhang Ming set the clipboard down. He wrote something at the bottom of the page, a long string of numbers that meant nothing to Derek. Then he looked up, and for a moment his eyes passed over Derek's face like a sheet of glass.
"Improving," he said. "Consistently improving. Session three will be very similar to today. We'll brief you before." He tucked the pen into his shirt pocket. "Rest tonight. You'll need it."
He turned and left. The door clicked shut. Derek stayed where he was, impaled on eight inches of rubber, breathing poppers in the white quiet. He was empty and full at the same time, and the contradiction was a perfect, humming stillness. His small cage held him fast. His hole held the dildo. And somewhere in his chest, a tiny voice that still remembered the coffee shop, the book, the life before, went quiet and still.