(Alex POV)

Five weeks and 6 days until the wedding.

I woke up to the now-familiar weight between my legs.

The metal chastity cage felt almost normal already, which scared me a little. My tiny dick was pressed flat inside the cold steel tube, unable to grow even a millimeter. Instead of frustration like yesterday, a strange, warm resignation settled over me this morning. This is what I need, I caught myself thinking. Discipline. Control.

I sat down to pee again, staring at the shiny metal trapping my shrimp dick. A part of me felt humiliated… but another part, a quieter, growing part, felt oddly safe. Like someone else was finally in charge of something I’d never been good at anyway.

Sylvie was already downstairs. When I came down, Damien was in the kitchen

shirtless, confident, making coffee like he lived here. Sylvie stood close to him in her robe, laughing softly at something he said. They looked good together. Natural.

A weird pang hit my chest. Not exactly jealousy… more like a quiet acceptance that Damien was just… more.

“Morning, bro!” Damien greeted me warmly, clapping me on the back. “How’s that cage treating you today? Any leaks yet?”

I blushed hard, glancing at Sylvie. She just smiled sweetly, like this was completely normal.

“It’s… tighter than I expected,” I admitted quietly. “But I think it’s working. I feel more… focused.”

Damien nodded with approval. “That’s the mindset, man. Most guys fight it at first. But you’re already starting to understand. Six weeks until the wedding — we’ll have you properly trained by then.”

His words should have bothered me. Instead, they sent a confusing little thrill through my caged dick.

The whole day at work, my mind kept drifting. Every time the cage tugged or pinched, I found myself thinking about how much better Damien looked without a shirt. How easily he commanded a room. How women at the club had ignored me and gravitated toward men like him.

Maybe that’s why Sylvie has seemed happier lately…

I tried to push the thought away, but it kept coming back. By the afternoon, I was leaking steadily into the cage while imagining Damien praising me for being a “good boy” and staying locked.

When I got home, Damien had already ordered dinner. We ate together, the three of us. I caught myself staring at his broad shoulders and strong arms more than once. Sylvie seemed relaxed and glowing. I felt small. Soft. Inferior.

After dinner, the exhaustion from fighting the constant ache in the cage hit me hard. I told them I was heading to bed early again.

As I climbed the stairs, I heard Damien say quietly to Sylvie:

“I’ll be in the guest room if either of you need me.”

Lying in our bed, the heavy metal cage throbbing between my legs, my mind spiraled. I imagined Sylvie being with someone like Damien. Strong. Confident. Superior. The thought made my caged dick strain painfully.

Maybe this is what I deserve…

Maybe she deserves better.

I fell asleep deeply conflicted — ashamed, aroused, and slowly, quietly breaking.