Chapter 5: Recordings

Chapter 5: Recordings

The next days were filled with getting things back to normal. With the help of the EPA I got all updated identification with a new picture and statistics that reflect my new body. I had to get in contact with the university to explain what had happened so that I wouldn’t be escorted out by campus security just for going back to my office. Not to mention a thousand other small tasks rearranging my life to make things work with my new stature. Through it all I kept in touch with Ben over messages, who was going through similar tribulations that filled his day, new clothes, ID, reestablishing communication with business contacts so they actually believed it was him, etc.

Even after all of this time I still haven’t been able to get off. No matter what kind of technique or motion I used it hasn’t been enough to bring me to orgasm. Either I’m so far removed from my cock that the things I try will never stimulate me enough to get me off, or I go for more stimulation only to be immediately overcome by too much sensation on my dickhead directly. I was starting to believe it was hopeless. But my rising arousal kept driving me to try, only resulting in more frustration.

Returning to the university brought along all kinds of new humiliations. The first time I went to the bathroom I realized I couldn’t even use the urinals any more like a normal guy. It wasn’t that they were too high, although that was close to being a concern. No, the problem was my new cock. Standing naked at home it was a challenge to aim a dick this short into the toilet. The first time I stood in front of that urinal with my women’s jeans I realized my cock was too short to make it out of the fly. There was no way I was going to take a piss while still clothed unless I wanted to soak myself in urine. I was **** to use a stall with my pants and underwear around my ankles. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was just one more reminder that I wasn’t normal.

The one bastion of hope I found from this whole ordeal was once I got back to the university and my research into the Ixlutani. Going in there every day is bizarre, surreal, and unsettling. I came back being **** to look up at friends, colleagues, and students that used to be shorter than me, only for them to all tower over my reduced size. It made me very uncomfortable with the constant reminder that things are very different. For their part I could tell the situation made them feel awkward too, having to sit through conversations where no one knows exactly where to look, frequently avoiding looking at me entirely as we spoke.

Where this all becomes a positive was in the footage I’d forgotten about in everything else that happened. Ben and I had finished our survey of the walls of the cave before our transformations took place. Thankfully Ben grabbed our bags on the way out and they had the cameras we’d used inside. I now had high resolution images of every surface inside that cave. Now it was just a matter of time and translation. It’s a slim hope, but maybe the answer to what happened to us can be found on those walls, even if we can’t find the cave itself again.

Upon realizing what I had, I contacted the EPA and offered them a copy. Apparently they’d taken one themselves while I was **** and had called in experts to analyze the footage but had deemed it “inconsequential”. However they thanked me for my attempt to help. I’m not sure how they could think that this footage wouldn’t be helpful, but I certainly wasn’t going to let it go. Even if I didn’t have a thesis riding on the content of these images, there’s no **** on this planet that could stop me from finding out what those walls said.

Reviewing the pictures and video quickly made me glad for the tiny room I’d been given as an office. I’m fairly certain it was a literal broom closet at one point, barely having enough room for both me and my desk once the door was closed, but it meant I didn’t have to share the space with other grad students. The reason for my newfound appreciation of solitude was the unintended things captured in our recordings.

Watching the video I took it was clear that whatever influenced Ben and me in the cave started much earlier than I realized. The first couple of minutes were a standard scan of the walls of the cave, but before five minutes were up I had ended up pointing my camera at Ben. It was kind of odd seeing Ben in his old scrawny body, I’d kind of gotten used to the buff Adonis I met in the hospital. Even so the footage of Ben was almost sensual, I was practically caressing his body with the lens of the camera. But then he would start to turn and I would jerk the camera back to the walls of the cavern to continue my survey. The interruptions only increased in frequency as the tape went on, spiking sharply once Ben was nude. However despite taking twice as long as necessary, and meaning this tape was going to need a lot of editing if I was going to show it to anyone else, I still had a complete survey of every surface in the cave.

The photographic recordings weren’t much better. Ben had done the bulk of that work while I recorded the video, and it seems he was just as distracted as I was. Once we were naked almost every second picture was one of my naked body, not that the pictures I took were any better. I think the pictures of me were the most disturbing part. These were the last pictures showing what I used to look like. I had hundreds of high resolution pictures that showed in detail the muscles I no longer possessed, the foot of height I had lost, and the seven inch cock I wished I could have once again. Out of everything I had lost I think that was the hardest part, my cock. Even now my useless nub throbbed in the women’s panties I wore, **** for a release I couldn’t obtain. Being **** to look at my formerly impressive cock filled me with a confusing mix of arousal and shame. Staring at what was once my functioning cock, a cock that brought me and others so much pleasure over the years, made my new nub twitch with the remembrance and envy at what I can no longer do.

Even in the footage and photographs I’d taken, Ben’s formerly unimpressive frame still held some of the magic of the cave and sent bolts of arousal down my spine as I looked at his form. The entire process of categorizing all the recordings took much longer than it should have, I was frequently overcome by the throbbing in my dicklet pressing insistently against my underwear. I would lock my door and shove my hands down my pants rubbing my nub, **** for relief, until I was overcome with sensitivity and pain, but always far from orgasm. The frustration would buy me more time where I could focus on my work, but made sure I didn’t accomplish anything quickly.

Eventually I reached the point where I could begin the translations in earnest. These recordings were a treasure trove of new information, symbols that haven’t been seen for hundreds of years. As exhilarating as the thrill of discovery was, it also made my job that much more difficult. Translating a single phonetic expression could take hours, entire words, days. I decided to avail myself of the vast experience present in the department I worked with.

Professor McGrath, who taught me a few graduate classes, was an expert in these kinds of initial steps in deciphering a new language. I decided to pick a few choice images, carefully screened to avoid any nudity, and sent him an email asking for his assistance. A few hours later I got a reply that was rather confusing. Something about issues with his email client and corrupted data files. He said he’d be happy to discuss the project with me, but asked if I could just bring up the files on a USB drive. He’d be free that afternoon or we could schedule something another day.

I immediately took the elevator to the fifth floor, walked to his office, and knocked on the door. “Professor McGrath, you said you’d have time to talk this afternoon?”

“Ah Kyle, it’s good to see you. Come in, come in take a seat.” He said gesturing to a chair across from his desk.

Walking into this room reminded me of a very different time. Even now I was constantly surprised by the apparent change in scale every time I walked into somewhere I’d spent any significant period of time. The Professor’s office was just as I remembered it from my many hours spent here during office hours while I was taking one of his classes. Bookshelves lined the walls crammed with dense leather bound tomes. Interspersed with the books are cultural artifacts from civilizations spanning the globe, remembrances of languages the Professor brought back to life.

Behind the desk was Professor McGrath himself, now standing to beckon me into the room. I’d always thought of him as a tiny old man, shrinking in on himself even as his grey beard grew longer with every passing year. Now I was the tiny one, with even the Professor’s diminutive stature stretching above my head. Mostly I remember him as kind, even now a broad smile stretching across his face and casting lines around the corners of his steely grey eyes.

Waiting for me to take a seat first the Professor lowered himself back into his chair before continuing. “The entire department, myself included, was obviously shocked by what happened to you. We’re all glad that you’re back advancing your research, but no one wants you pushing yourself too hard. We’re willing to help you however we can, including giving you more time. If you need to take some time for yourself, work from home or something of that nature, we’re willing to support that too.”

“Thank you Professor, I’ll keep that in mind. But for now working, getting back to my usual routine, seems to help.”

“As long as you know we’re here for you. Now shall we discuss the matter at hand? I understand you have some intriguing new images of a dead language.”

“I do.” I say handing him the USB I’d copied the files onto. He eagerly takes it from my hand before leaning down and inserting it into the computer under his desk. He clicks around for a few moments before his mouth draws into a small frown.

“I’m sorry to say it looks like these images are corrupted as well.”

“What do you mean? I checked them before I brought them up here.” I replied with confusion.

“Perhaps there’s something wrong with my computer then, but see for yourself these images are completely indecipherable.” He said turning his monitor so that we both could see it. “It’s certainly not like anything I’ve seen before, but this image is merely swirls of greys with a few other colors thrown in. It looks like the image is almost intact around the edges, but the center is nothing but spirals of color.”

I was understandably confused by the Professor’s words as he gestured at the screen, because all I could see was the perfectly clear image I had sent him. The carvings of the cavern walls were just as clear as they had been in person, and yet somehow Dr. McGrath couldn’t see any of it.

Clearly there was something more going on here. Trying to argue with what he could see with his own eyes was not going to productive. More than that it would only make them question my already uncertain mental state. Instead I apologized for the technical difficulties and got out of there promising to be in touch once I had things sorted out. I could tell the Professor knew something wasn’t quite right, but thankfully he wasn’t willing to press me on it.

I needed to sort out what was going on here, and hopefully do it without making everyone think I was crazy. I enlisted the help of a few other grad students to try and figure it out. The problem wasn’t Professor McGrath’s computer. Everyone I talked to couldn’t see anything but the same mysterious swirls on my computer as well. Printing the images was met with the same indecipherable spirals from everyone else’s perspective. I even tried copying the symbols by hand onto pieces of paper. Occasionally I could get through a symbol or two, but by the time I had anything resembling a full word as far as anyone else could see I simply began frantically drawing large looping spirals over the paper. Even when I used small direct motions to draw simple lines I could see the eyes of my colleagues travelling in circles as they followed paths my hand wasn’t taking. It looks like I was back to working on this alone.

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It didn’t help that over these weeks my arousal had spiked to levels I’d never felt before. Since the first time I’d masturbated, when entering puberty, I’d always gotten off pretty regularly. The weeks I spent after my circumcision had easily been the longest stretch before this. Now the time since I’d last reached orgasm wasn’t measured in days, but was now over two months. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on my work for any length of time.

The past few weeks I’d taken to working from home most days, everyone at the university was very understanding about my “needing more time”. The real problem was that my cocklet had reached new levels of sensitivity to match my feverish arousal. Even my constricting women’s underwear proved to be too stimulating for long periods of time. I spent all my time at home naked trying to keep my hands off my nub while I tried to make progress on the translation.

None of this was helped by Olivia and her sexual needs. In the past having a girlfriend with a high sex drive was amazing, not needing to worry if she was “tired” or “not in the mood” wasn’t something I’d needed to worry about when I had a dick that was able to satisfy her. Now her body was making demands that mine just couldn’t satisfy. As it was more days than not we only went to bed after I’d buried my face between her legs and she rode my tongue to orgasm. Truthfully, spending so much time so getting so intimately acquainted with her pussy was only sending my nub to new peaks of arousal.

After a frustrating day where I’d made very little progress I walked into our bedroom only to see Olivia sitting on the bed in my favorite lingerie with a pensive expression on her face. I could tell she had something on her mind, and despite her arousing appearance this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. Seeing me hesitating in the doorway she made eye contact and launched right into it.

“I know I said I was willing to wait until you were ready for sex,” she started before seeing the look on my face and rushing to finish her sentence, “and I am! But I can’t help but feel that I’m part of the problem. I’ve seen you rubbing yourself as you work. I know I shouldn’t have been spying on you, but you were making those cute little noises.” I could see her bite her lip at the memory of her spying on my failed masturbation, clearly she was almost as deprived as me. “So I know your problem isn’t with your penis, so it has to be with me.”

“Olivia, no it’s not that-“

“Are you afraid you can’t satisfy me now? I know you’re… smaller down there, but I’m ok with that. I’ve always gotten off with clitoral stimulation, I don’t need a big dick. Even now I’m sure you can get me off just by grinding your pelvis into mine. You can still satisfy me with your dick, I know it.” She finished looking at me with a hopeful expression on her face.

“I don’t know…”

“I know it’s kind of scary, it’s almost like losing your virginity again, but I want to do this with you. I promise it will be ok.”

I’m not sure if Olivia’s speech really convinced me, or if I was just so damn horny, but I agreed. I stripped naked and climbed onto the bed with her as we started the foreplay and removed or shifted strategic parts of her lingerie. I started by eating her out as usual, and it wasn’t long before she was literally dripping with need. Pressing me head away from her, she lay back on the bed and signaled me to climb on top of her. I took a moment to align myself with her beckoning depths, it certainly didn’t require a hand to angle my inch and a half when it stuck straight out from my groin. Before plunging in I took a moment to look toward Olivia’s face looking for a kiss for support. To my endless shame, with our groins aligned our faces didn’t even come close to one another. Olivia had to lean down in order to make our lips connect.

With a deep breath, I pressed my hips forward pressing into the heat of Olivia’s womanhood. I was immediately overcome by the familiar sensation of her lips passing over the head of my cock. As I continued to press my hips into her I was quickly brought up short as my pelvic bone pressed into the solid obstruction of her pubic mound. While this elicited a moan of pleasure from Olivia as I ground into her clit, it also made me realize how much I’d lost. The head of my cock was just able to barely enter Olivia’s vaginal canal before I ran out of cock. The moment I pulled my hips back to begin another thrust my dick came back out only to pass back through her engorged labia.

Repeating the motion pleasured Olivia as I pressed my groin back into her. Once again my dick was barely able to enter her. Olivia’s juices were flowing freely and lubricated the head of my dick. Thankfully this meant that the level of stimulation wasn’t so intense to immediately put me into painful oversensitivity. I realized that this could work, I could have sex with my girlfriend, using my cock! Even if I had to make sure my thrusting motions were incredibly small to ensure my dick didn’t pop out of her completely. Once I got the motion down I wasn’t thrusting at all, all I could manage was a sort of grinding action keeping our genitals pressed together.

But my happiness was short-lived. I kept up the motion for several minutes until Olivia spasmed and cried out in orgasm, driven there by my groin pressing into her clit. I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting and squeezing at the very tip of my dick. But I was **** to admit that this was never going to bring me off. My dick was just too short and too small to achieve orgasm this way. I simply couldn’t get enough feeling to drive me over the edge. I started pounding into her harder and harder trying to get just that little bit more stimulation to get me there, but it was hopeless.

“Kyle, what’s wrong?” My face must have been twisted into a scowl of desperation.

“This isn’t working… for me.” I replied quietly.

Olivia’s eyes locked into steely determination as she said, “Well we’re going to get you there.” She grabbed me by the chest and flipped me onto my back on the bed. It was both intensely arousing and deeply humiliating to be lifted up by my girlfriend seemingly effortlessly. Six months ago she wouldn’t have been able to budge me and now she could lift me like a child. Even so being manhandled like that sent a burst of arousal straight to my dick.

Olivia pressed me down before wrapping her lips around my dick. To my shame she could press her lips into my pubic mound before my dick even came close to her throat. She’d developed a pretty impressive deepthroat technique in the time we’d spent together. I guess going forward she wasn’t going to need that ability as long as she was with me.

She started swirling her tongue around my dick head and massaging me with her lips. This was the most intense direct stimulation I’d receive since my transformation and it was beyond overwhelming, far worse than any kind of overstimulation that I’d suffered so far. I don’t think she realized what she was doing at first. She took my thrashing and gasping to be out of intense pleasure, not of intense pain. It took me agonizing seconds that felt like they stretched into minutes before I could coordinate the muscles in my arms to press her face away from me.

I could see the shock on her face as I pushed her away from me, which quickly morphed into confusion and worry when she saw the twisted grimace of pain I wore.

“Kyle, are you ok?” she asked, her voice quavering with concern.

“No, I’m not ok.” I replied before I burst into tears.

Olivia held me as cried. Through the tears I finally admitted what had been going on with my new dick. The shame was definitely a part of the reason why I hadn’t wanted to be intimate with her, but really it was the painful oversensitivity. I explained how I hadn’t gotten off in months, and how I feared I may never again. The problem wasn’t that I didn’t want a blowjob, but that the attempt induced agony rather than exquisite pleasure. All of my fears and insecurities came pouring out and Olivia just held me until I fell asleep.

---

In the days and weeks after that night Olivia backed off the sexual stuff. I think she just didn’t know where to go from here. What does a woman with sexual needs do when her boyfriend has a cock that’s virtually useless? Well I can tell you anytime she thought I wouldn’t notice, her vibrator was getting a pretty good workout. I was still horny beyond belief, and would ask to eat her out every few days. She always enjoyed it a lot, but I could tell she was too hesitant to ask me herself. She was understandably concerned that sexual interaction only made me more **** and needy. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but I couldn’t stay away.

At this point my feverish arousal had gotten to the point that wearing pants was agony on my cock head and I was hard practically twenty-four hours a day. I’d stopped going into the university entirely. I could tell everyone was concerned, but they weren’t going to press the issue. At the very least it let me make more progress more quickly. “Breaks” were faster and I didn’t have to spend so much time trying to hide what I was really doing. That and without the distraction of clothing rubbing against me I was able to focus better.

I actually started getting enough translated to start making sense of the writings in the cave. Ben had also been understandably curious about what I’d learned and I hadn’t had much to tell him up until now. We’d kept in touch mostly through messages and the occasional phone call. Truthfully I was avoiding meeting him in person. Even now, when I saw him it inspired some feelings that made me deeply uncomfortable, and it certainly didn’t help with my arousal. Now especially with my aversion to clothing, going out in public wasn’t really an option. But I could keep him up to date through our messages and he didn’t seem to want to push me on the in person stuff.

So far my work on the translations had focused on the entrance to the cave. This area had what seemed to be the most basic descriptions and was a kind of introduction or overview of the cave itself. Most of the words the Ixlutani used don’t have a direct translation into English, so I had to paraphrase or pick similar words. Translation is not nearly as much of a one-to-one process as most people seem to believe. Not just that but much of the language used was rather flowery and ritualistic. Rather than sending Ben hundreds of lines of text I provided a summary of some of the key things I’ve learned.

The cave we stumbled upon was what the Ixlutani called the “Cave of the Warrior”. It was the place where some Ixlutani underwent a ritual where they shed their lives as children and became full adults in Ixlutani culture. Male and female were seen as childish gender constructs and only upon achieving adulthood would a person become their true self and receive their new gender, warrior, mother, or companion. This cave was where young Ixlutani came to undergo the ritual to become warriors. There were also vague references to other caves, one of which being the “Cave of the Mother”.

Back in this cave, the writings went over the warrior ritual in a little bit more detail. Apparently the ritual required two individuals. The ritual transferred something from one person to another. This something was proving to be a difficult word to translate. The best definition I’ve come up with is essence, but even that’s not completely correct. Also there isn’t a single type of essence, but numerous kinds. The Cave of the Warrior had the ability to transmit masculine essence from one individual into another.

The person donating their masculine essence had some sort of preparation done to them. The writings were non-specific on this part, but they underwent some kind of genital mutilation. It wasn’t exactly like circumcision, but not entirely dissimilar. The intent of this procedure seemed to be to expose a person’s masculine essence, making it **** to the ritual.

From here the two people enter the cave and the transfer goes through the Ixlu. The essence is taken from the person that was altered, the Ixlu takes the essence into itself feeds on it, and then the Ixlu bestows the remaining essence onto the second individual. This turns the first person into a companion, and the second becomes a warrior.

I would have believed that was some sort of metaphorical or religious transference, had I not seen the very real change that Ben and I had experienced. It seems when we were kids and we went to the cave neither one of us was marked as a companion, and so no transference could occur. On our last trip I’d been circumcised and that was enough to free my essence and mark me as a companion. So my masculine essence was transferred to Ben, I became his companion, and he became a warrior.

Throughout all the writing in the cave are frequent references to the Ixlu. Nowhere do they define exactly what the Ixlu is, or how it can do what it obviously can. They frequently praise and thank the Ixlu for the prosperity and life they lead. But tenses and plurals become mixed whenever the word Ixlu is used. It’s proving quite challenging to translate. I can see further references later in the cave. Clearly I need to find out more.

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These revelations took weeks of painstaking research, but I was glad for every scrap I could learn. Over these weeks things came to a head with Olivia. I wasn’t making any progress physically, and apparently she was also starting to feel deprived sexually. So one night after filling Ben in on what I’d learned that day, she surprised me in the bedroom. Olivia was sitting on our bed wearing some brand new, and incredibly sexy, lingerie. Just looking at her sent a bolt of arousal straight to my twitching cock. Noticing me walking through the door she looked at me with her face twisted in anxiety.

“Kyle, I need to talk to you about something.” She said gesturing for me to take a seat on the bed next to her.

“Alright.” I replied with no small hint of trepidation.

“I’m a woman with needs… sexual needs. I understand that you have certain… limitations now, but I’ve come up with an idea that I think can satisfy both of us.” As she said this she reached under the pillow sitting next to her at the head of the bed. She pulled out something I had forgotten all about.

Over a year ago we’d decided to try one of those silicone cock replica kits. We had a sexy night where Olivia worked me up teasing me for hours until I was rock hard and then we molded my cock and poured in the silicone mixture after it set. It made an amazing replica of my cock, every vein and wrinkle preserved in silicone. But we grew bored with it and it eventually got forgotten in our toy drawer, until now.

Olivia handed me the replica of my cock before continuing, “I thought you could fuck me with this. It’s still your cock, so it’s still like you’re fucking me. We could get a strap-on harness or something and you could even wear it like a real cock. I really hope…”

Olivia kept talking but I wasn’t listening anymore. As she talked her words faded away to silence as all of my focus changed to the cock in my hands, I was aware that she was still talking, but my mind was processing none of it. All I could think about was the object in my hand. It was my cock, my real cock. My full seven inches sitting solidly in my hand, it even had my full balls molded onto the bottom. Even running my smaller hands over it brought back memories of a better time. I traced my fingers along its length feeling, what was once, every familiar bump, groove, and vein.

Eventually my hand reached the head of my silicone cock, but as it did it passed over the ridge of my foreskin. We’d taken this mold before my circumcision. My foreskin that was now long gone in real life was memorialized forever in silicone bunched up just behind the head of my cock. Looking at it and feeling it filled me with a confusing mix of emotions, loss, anger, sadness, hopelessness, envy, desire. This is what it all came down to, my lost foreskin. If I hadn’t gotten circumcised I’d still have my dick today, but a real dick hanging between my legs, not this sad inanimate imitation in my hands.

The emotions swirling in my mind resolved themselves into a deep seething rage. Olivia was still talking when I jumped off the bed, holding the dildo like a club waving it angrily as I yelled, “How could you even suggest this! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is!? I’m not man enough to fuck you anymore, so here why don’t I just use the biggest reminder of everything I’ve lost? I don’t want to think about how I’m inadequate, how I’ll never fuck you again! I never want to see this thing again!” I yelled at Olivia as I threw the dildo against the wall as hard as I could. I was planning on a dramatically loud noise as it slammed into the drywall. Unfortunately with my new arms I could barely throw it hard enough to hit the wall, instead it arced downwards before weakly bouncing off the wall and rolling under the bed.

My tirade done, I looked up from where the dildo passed out of sight to look back at Olivia’s face. Her expression was strangely neutral, but I could see the beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. I think it was around here that I realized I may have gone too far. Olivia refused to talk to me, she just silently gathered up and put on her clothes as I begged and apologized. She was walking toward the door before the tears started to actually flow down her face and she finally spoke, “I think I need some time by myself.” Before walking out the door and closing it behind her.

I spent the next several hours pacing frantically around our apartment. Olivia wouldn’t pick up her phone when I called her, nor would she respond to any of the numerous messages I sent her. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep, hoping Olivia would be back soon and I could apologize or something. It wasn’t a restful sleep but it at least passed the time until it was morning. Olivia still hadn’t turned up. I spent the morning trying to get some work done, anything to take my mind off of my relationship troubles. I wasn’t very successful, in either my work or getting my mind off of things. Eventually I went back to pacing.

It was a little after seven o’clock when Olivia eventually returned. After she unlocked the door and walked in I tried peppering her with apologies, but she simply shook her head and fixed me with a steely glare. I could tell from her eyes that she had been crying, but there were no tears now, only determination. She walked into the living room, moving to sit down and I followed her.

“Please this is hard enough as it is, just let me say what I need to say.” She said cutting off my attempts to placate her. “Do you remember after your changes, when I said that ‘as long as you’re willing to work with me, I’m with you no matter what’? Well it’s clear that you aren’t willing to work with me, and you haven’t been for a long time. Things haven’t been good for us for months, and I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it. Well after your outburst last night, seeing that even my smallest attempts to make our relation work are met with hostility and ****, I can’t keep lying to myself. Kyle, I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving you.” Finishing her speech, she lowered her engagement ring to the coffee table. It hit the table with a quiet click as it struck the surface. Even so that small sound reverberated in my ears, ringing with finality.

“Please Olivia don’t do this, I can change, I can-“

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. The signs have been there for months, it just took me this long to realize it. Things have been over between us for some time now.” I just stood there silently letting the realization of the end of my relationship wash over me. Olivia stood back up and walked toward the door. “I’m going to stay with a few friends for a while. I want you moved out by the end of the month. That should give you plenty of time to find another place and get your stuff moved out. I’d don’t want you here when I get back.” And with that she walked out of the door and out of my life.

I spent the next couple of days in a daze. I didn’t talk to anyone, I couldn’t work, I mostly sat there in a daze contemplating how my entire life had fallen apart. I would walk around just holding Olivia’s ring staring at it, wondering how my life had turned into this. I was climbing out of bed one day with the ring in my hand, when it slipped and fell to the ground. I hear the sharp retort as it struck the ground. I got down on my hands and knees to find the ring. It must have bounced under the bed. Lowering my face to the ground, I peered under the edge of the bed and quickly caught sight of the glinting gold ring even in the dim light. However, beyond the ring I also saw the object that had ended my relationship, or at least precipitated the final blow. Lying under the bed not far from the wall was the dildo I had thrown there in my final argument with Olivia.

I pulled out the ring and also grabbed the replica of my cock. I set the engagement ring to the side for a moment before standing there holding what used to be my dick. Even now I stood there painfully erect. I couldn’t resist lowering the dildo down to compare to my current cock, where I lined up the base of the dildo with the base of my cock. I knew I’d fallen pretty far, but seeing it in such stark relief was still shocking. I knew I used to be well endowed but seeing my old seven inch cock sticking out of the groin of my new tiny body made it look absolutely gigantic. Which also made my new endowment look positively puny. My new dick was definitely thinner than the old one, but it was only about half the size in width. Where I really suffered was in length, I went from 7 inches to 1.5, if I was rounding up. My entire cock was about the length of my old dick head. Seeing my new situation so amply demonstrated before me was almost physically painful.

What was painful was the stroke I gave my cock as my hand travelled down to caress myself in my arousal. I pulled my hand away from my dick and cursed in frustration before looking down at the dildo in my other hand. Looking back at my old cock got me thinking of better times, orgasms of the past, all the times I’d made love to Olivia, the women I’d fucked before her. And then my mind conjured one more memory unbidden, the last orgasm I’d experienced, when Ben fucked me in the cave. Staring at the cock in my hand started giving me ideas. My cock was a lot bigger than Ben’s was in that cave, but all I could think about was the pleasure I felt as he slammed into my prostate.

I was struggling a bit with my sexuality after getting fucked in that cave, that and I couldn’t even hope to satisfy a woman with the pathetic excuse for a cock between my legs. The thing that really made me question myself wasn’t that I got fucked, but that I loved it. I couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Ben inside of me. The lust coursing through my veins was breaking down the barriers I’d put up to avoid thinking about getting fucked. But now all I could think about were Olivia’s words, telling me this dildo was just like my cock. I rationalized if I fucked myself with it, it’s not like I was really getting fucked, I’m just a guy using his own dick to get off. Really it’s more like masturbation than anything else. That thought was all it took, I couldn’t get that dildo inside me fast enough.

I dashed over to the drawer where be kept our sex toys and pulled out the lube, slathering myself and the dildo in the slippery fluid. I lay back on the bed and pressed the tip of my cock into my near-virgin orifice. My dildo cock was much bigger than Ben was in the cave, and it didn’t help that my body was much smaller than it had been then. But with the lube, and more than a little determination, I fought through the pain and pressed the dildo inside of me. For a few moments I started doubting myself, all of this pain and shame I felt as my asshole stretched to part around the head of the dildo. I continued to press the silicone further into my body, my doubts only becoming stronger with every passing centimeter. I was just about to give up on the whole endeavor and pull the dildo out of me, when I made contact with my prostate and I felt a pulse of pleasure shoot through my body.

I pulled the dildo out a little and pressed it back into that magical spot repeating the sensation. It was different that jerking my cock, a different kind of pleasure, but I could feel it pushing me toward orgasm. Pressing the dildo into me over and over again I could feel the pleasure building without any of the damned oversensitivity my cock experienced. At this point I felt like my hand was moving on its own, sliding my dildo cock over my prostate over and over again. I couldn’t get myself off as fast as I could jerking my old cock, I’d been pumping away for over an hour before I felt myself approaching the edge.

My arm was screaming in pain as it cramped up, but I couldn’t stop now I was too close. With every thrust I couldn’t help but gasp a little with pleasure every time I hit that bulb of desire within me. Eventually my gasps built into moans, and the moans into screams, as the pleasure within me rose bringing me closer to orgasm. It was just when I felt my arm might finally give out, that I felt myself pass over that precipice and I nearly passed out in the overwhelming ecstasy of my orgasm. For the first time in months I finally passed over that edge and felt my cock spurting all over my lower belly.

I lay there still and panting for several minutes, unable to move in the afterglow. Once I’d recovered and my breathing had returned to a reasonable level, I took a look at myself. My cum didn’t shoot out like it used to, not even making it past my belly button when I used to be able to easily shoot over my shoulder, but there sure was a lot of it. The thick white fluid pooled all over my lower belly and the base of my cock before running down over my hips and between my legs to soak into the bedspread underneath me. Even the simple act of pulling the dildo out of me was enough to make my arm twinge in pain, protesting any kind of movement after the ordeal I’d put it through. Sexually satisfied for the first time in a long time, I got up, cleaned myself and my dildo, and then promptly crawled into bed and passed out, sleeping peacefully in my satiation.

The next morning I woke up thinking more clearly than I had in weeks. While a single orgasm after months wasn’t enough to completely eliminate the haze of lust that had descended over my mind, getting off at least once allowed the fog to decrease to the point I was thinking much more clearly. Even so, now that I knew I could get off again, like a starving man standing before a buffet, I was ravenous for another orgasm.

I grabbed my dildo and lube and set about to working my prostate to another orgasm. It still felt amazing, but working myself to orgasm was exhausting. It took too much focus to maintain the proper angle on the dildo while also hitting myself with the proper amount of **** and keeping up the tempo of the thrusts. I couldn’t focus on the pleasure and feelings washing over me because I had to spend too much energy focusing on what my arm was doing with the dildo.

Eventually the muscles in my arm were screaming in pain, and I was **** to switch arms. It wasn’t long before the second arm was similarly incapacitated. I tried everything I could think of, putting the dildo on the ground and thrusting up and down with my legs, small motions grinding my hips. It was all useless. I wasted the entire day in my futile attempts, but all I accomplished was hours later I was a sweaty incoherent mess lying panting on the ground, no closer to orgasm. Clearly I needed to be more desperately horny before I could bring myself off with the dildo.

---

Even without getting off more than once, the haze in my mind was still greatly diminished and with my newfound clarity I was **** to admit that Olivia was gone, probably for good. I couldn’t just stay here wallowing in self-pity, I had to get moved out by the end of the month. After the days I wasted I still had a couple of weeks before then, but finding a place and getting moved there would be tough to accomplish in that time.

Ben still lived in the apartment that we used to share. Now that he didn’t need the financial assistance of a roommate, he turned my old room into a guest room. If I asked I could probably stay with him until I got things figured out more permanently. Of course that would mean telling Ben about the fight with Olivia, something I’d been avoiding so far. In fact I hadn’t sent Ben a message in days, he was probably getting concerned about my silence. There was no point in putting it off any further, I picked up my phone and called Ben.

It rang several times before Ben’s new deeper voice came over the line, “Hello?” he answered groggily, clearly I had woken him up.

“Hey Ben.”

“Kyle! I haven’t heard from you in days, is everything ok?” he replied fully awake.

“No, things aren’t really ok. Olivia left me.” I spent the next few minutes filling him in on the details and answering some of his questions. I avoided most of the details around the exact, and humiliating, circumstances. I didn’t lie to Ben, but he accepted when I said I wasn’t ready to talk about some things. Eventually I led into the reason I was calling this morning. “I guess I’m looking for a new place to live now, and I was wondering if I could move back in with you? Just until I find a new place and get things sorted out. …and I don’t really want to be on my own right now.”

“Kyle you are more than welcome to come and stay with me for as long as you like. You will always have a home with me,” at this point Ben’s voice slowed and I could hear the hesitation in his words, “…but, before you agree to living with me again there are some things you should know. I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, can we meet in person?”

I was a little taken aback by this, what could Ben want to talk about that would make me question if I wanted to live with him? Whatever it was, I wouldn’t have long to wait to find out. We decided to meet at a coffee shop not far from where I was in a couple of hours. Then Ben would tell me what he had to say.

I was more nervous about this meeting than I had been about most first dates. I immediately got to work finding out if my sensitivity had decreased to the point I could wear clothes again. Thankfully I quickly found myself fully clothed, and I wasn’t in absolute agony. Never in my life did I expect to feel so glad that I could wear women’s underwear again.

Fully dressed, I arrived several minutes early to the coffee shop only to find Ben already there, brow creased in worry. I’m certain the trepidation splayed over my face was equally evident. Despite the mood, once he saw me Ben’s face broke into a beaming smile. Seeing Ben in person I found myself thinking he was even better looking than I remembered. That smile sent a shot of arousal straight to my tiny cock, making me glad that the tent I was forming in my panties wasn’t visible through my pants. Sitting down, we started chatting and making small talk clearly both of us trying to avoid the topic that brought us here. Eventually Ben realized he’d put it off as long as he could, his face falling before he began speaking with a small quaver to his voice.

“So obviously there’ve been some changes to the both of us since the cave.” To which I only gave a small chuckle, as if to say obviously. “and those changes have made me realize a few things… I guess I should just come out and say it. I’m bisexual. I don’t know if I’ve always had these feelings and just refused to acknowledge them until the cave and this body gave me the confidence to pursue other men, or if the cave changed my sexuality too. At this point it really doesn’t matter, I’m bisexual and it feels kind of good to admit that to you.” He finished, relief evident in his voice at finally having that off of his chest.

“I’m happy for you, and obviously this changes nothing between us. You’re my best friend no matter who you’re sleeping with. You have nothing but my support. But I’m a little uncertain, why you had to tell me this before I would want to move in with you?” Ben’s face rose with joy at my support, but I could see his eyes cloud with worry once more as I finished speaking.

“It’s not being bisexual exactly which I was worried about, it’s more a consequence. Since my transformation my libido is much higher than it used to be. As such I’ve become much more… social… with both men and women.”

“And you think I’d have a problem with you going out on a few dates? If you recall I was a bit of a lady’s man when we lived together.”

“It’s not so much ‘dating’ that I’ve been doing, and it’s not really ‘a few’ either.”

“Oh,” I asked with more than a little amusement in my voice, “what are we talking about exactly?”

Clearly a little embarrassed, but backed into a corner, Ben explained blushing as he spoke. “More nights than not I’ve been bringing someone home with me, sometimes more than one someone. Apparently women and men go crazy for the new me. I know I look good now, but it’s a little bit crazy.” Said Ben, who is probably the most gorgeous man I have ever seen, without a hint of irony. “Anyway, things can often get a little bit… loud. Living alone it hasn’t been something I’ve needed to worry about, but if you were going to live with me I had to let you know. And the part that’s kind of embarrassing, I don’t think I can stop. I could try to stay out of the apartment more, but there’s still going to end up being a lot of nights that are none too quiet.”

“Ben, if I recall you had to live through more than a few noisy nights when I brought a date home, and you never complained. I think it’s only fair that the situation is reversed.”

“So you’d be ok living with me?”

“I think that’s my line!” I laughed at Ben’s concern. “I’m the one imposing on you. It’s your apartment and you can live your life how you want. I’m fine with however many ‘dates’ you want to bring home.”

That conversation out of the way, I could feel the tension between us melt away. Almost like I could release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Both of us were all smiles after that and went back to talking about inconsequential things. I appreciated that Ben didn’t try to pry for details about Olivia, I could tell he was willing to wait for me to reveal things at my own pace.

We spent a little more time in the coffee shop before Ben insisted we head back up to my apartment so we could get things packed up. He offered to pay for movers to bring my stuff over to his place but it wasn’t long before we realized I didn’t have enough belongings for that to be necessary. All the furniture and large items belonged to Olivia and would be left behind. For the smaller items I had to get Ben’s help to look on the high shelves and lift things down. Before long we had all of my worldly possessions packed up in a dozen or so boxes.

Ben called a truck which we loaded up. I say we, but it was virtually all Ben. With my new smaller frame I struggled with even the lightest boxes. Ben’s strength on the other hand seemed limitless. In my old body I could have lifted one or two of the larger, heavier boxes at a time with a little bit of struggle. Ben would casually grab four at a time and effortlessly carry them. I’m pretty sure he could have easily carried more, he stopped at four only because it became difficult to see and maneuver beyond that point.

The sun had barely set before we had my entire life packed up and moved into Ben’s apartment. If I’d needed to get all of this done alone at my new height and strength, this would have taken me the better part of a week to get everything packed and carried out. With Ben’s assistance it was a matter of only a few hours.