Chapter 9
My hole is still open.
Like, I can feel it gaping.
If I had to explain, I’d say it’s wrecked in a way that even my internal organs are existing differently than they did this morning.
Also, they pumped me so full of cum, I can still feel a thick puddle of it sitting in my guts even after they cleaned me.
I shift on the couch and—yep, still there. Squishy. Hi.
I’ve also come three times. Two of them hands-free, which honestly feels like an achievement I should put on my resume under Special Skills.
The guys held me hostage to their dicks for like four hours. Four hours. I’d say that’s a lot, but I’m also lying naked on the couch eating chips and watching a superhero movie. I feel fucking incredible, so actually, zero complaints.
Meanwhile, Miles has been buried in his laptop for the last half hour. This is how every good idea in this house starts, by the way: Miles opening his laptop.
“Okay so,” Miles goes, eyes on his screen, his fingers moving quickly. “I’m building an app. A simple one.”
“For what?” Grant asks, mouth full of pizza.
“Status system for the doll.” Miles tilts the laptop so we can see it. The man codes faster high than I do sober—and I have a 4.0 GPA. “I’ll set up a status system. ‘Offline’ means fair game. ‘Online’ means he’s Kit, don’t bother. ‘Maintenance’ means he’s sore or needs a break, don’t even try.”
I lean over his shoulder, and read the screen.
“Can I have a ‘Do Not Disturb’?” I ask, crunching a chip. “The doll will break if it always has to take four dicks at once. A solo session sometimes isn’t a bad idea.”
“Sure. That’s actually a great feature.” Miles grins without looking up.
“Bro, you’re building a sex app,” Finn smirks.
“I’m building a resource management dashboard,” Miles says, with dignity.
“For sex.”
“For scheduling.”
“Bro.”
Walker leans over to look. “Can we see the status on the kitchen tablet?”
“That’s the plan. We’ll also get a push notification on our phones.”
“What are the actual limits?” Grant asks after a while, using his serious team-captain voice. “For use, I mean. Like what’s—what’s off the table?”
The guys immediately start giving him shit.
“Why are you asking?” Finn asks, with a shit-eating grin.
“Because someone should—”
“Because you need to ask, you animal,” Walker adds.
Grant gives them both a look. “I am asking a reasonable question here.”
They all look at me.
I eat a chip, considering how to say this. “So when I’m in doll mode I’m an object. Which means the limits are basically whatever the user wants.”
Grant makes a face like that’s not a useful answer.
“The doll doesn’t have preferences,” I explain. “That’s the whole point.”
“Okay, but you do.”
“When I’m offline, I’m not me.” I think about how to make this land. “You can do whatever the fuck you want.”
Grant crosses his arms. “That sounds unethical.”
What a fucking hypocrite.
“You literally said,” I put the chip bag down and look right at him, “and I quote, ‘you’re not a person right now, you’re a warm place to dump my load,’ followed by, ‘I’ll shove my cock wherever I want until I’m done, and you’ll be grateful your mouth is good for something,’ and then something about—” I think about it.
“Oh. ‘Dolls don’t get to choose which hole I use. I’ll carve a new one and fuck it if I want to. ’”
“He also said—” Finn drops his voice an octave, doing a Grant impression that’s frankly pretty spot-on. “‘This hole exists for one reason, and that reason is my cock.’”
“He also said,” Miles adds, not looking up from his laptop, completely serene, “‘dolls don’t get to breathe.’”
“And the thing about…” Walker laughs, “‘pretty little pussy.’’”
“Okay—” Grant starts.
“‘This is what your throat was made for,’” Finn continues, still doing the voice, “‘taking me all the way down like a good little cockslut.’”
“Fine! I get it!” Grant says, his face red as fuck. “Fuck off, I was horny.”
“We were all horny, bro,” Walker says. “None of us threatened to carve new holes in the guy.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” Grant shoots back. Fair, actually. I had zero complaints. The memory alone is resurrecting my dead dick right now, but I’m not saying that.
The roasting of Grant continues for a while. It’s maybe the most normal conversation we’ve had in weeks. It’s maybe the least normal conversation I’ve ever had in my life. Both of those things are true simultaneously.
I eat another chip.
“It’s insane that you just gave these degenerates an open-access pass,” Miles says, looking at me with something like genuine concern under the amusement.
I shrug. “It’s fine. I trust you guys.”
Miles looks at me for a second, nods, and goes back to his laptop.
“What if I wanna piss inside?” Finn asks out of nowhere.
The room turns on him immediately.
“Dude!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What? It’s a valid—”
“It’s really fucking not!”
“I’m just asking if it’s on the menu!”
“Take it off the menu,” Grant says firmly. “Take it off the menu and throw the whole restaurant in the trash.”
Finn holds up both hands in surrender, grinning the whole time.
I don’t say anything.
I eat another chip and think, privately, that the idea is actually—nope.
Not saying that. I’ll take it to the grave and nobody in this room will ever know that Finn’s stupid-ass question just made me brick up again.
Being used as a human toilet? Getting pumped full of hot piss like a dirty urinal?
Hell yeah! No, wait. No. I have some shreds of dignity left to protect.
But maybe.
Maybe…
Oh, fuck me, now I’m imagining it.
I’m imagining Finn standing over me while I’m on my knees, forcing my mouth open to catch his stream and making me gulp it down.
Or Grant pinning my hips to the mattress and taking a heavy leak straight into my wrecked ass, filling my guts with his hot piss until it spills out of me, leaking out of my hole all hot and mixed with his cum.
Or all four of them just circling me in the shower and hosing me down…
“Kit. Kit!” Finn pulls me out of my filthy goon-trance. “What’s the official ruling?”
“The doll has no comment,” I say, shifting my weight downward to squash my boner flat against the cushions. Fuck, I can’t let them see that.
“Okay, what about pissing on the doll, not in?”
“Dude, come on!” Miles complains.
“Look, bro, I’m just being real,” Finn says.
Suddenly I’m fully aware I’m not the only one with fucked-up kinks around here.
“I’ve watched way too much weird shit and now I got a massive fetish for it.
Just picture it, man. A golden shower in the tub.
Or I just aim for his open mouth and see if he swallows. ”
“Dude, what kind of porn are you watching?” Walker asks, staring at him in disgust.
“Don’t kink-shame me, bro,” Finn says, sounding offended. Yeah, I fully support him on this.
“You want to feed him your piss.”
“He said he’s an object when he goes offline! Objects don’t care! If he’s a urinal, he’s a urinal! Right, Kit?”
Right.
“Still no comment.”
“Bro, that’s not a no.”
I grab another chip.
It is, in fact, not a no. But they don’t need to know how deep my freak goes yet. We’re like three conversations away from that being a problem for everyone, and I’m not accelerating the timeline.
“Does the morning routine still stand? We good on that?” Walker asks after a while. “Because I’ve been pumping him every morning for a while now, and I didn’t need permission before. Now I feel like—”
“You don’t need permission for that, bro,” I say, then I look at Miles. “Can you add a night mode? Like I set it before bed so they know the doll’s available to be used while it’s knocked out.”
“Sure. I’ll call it ‘Standby.’”
“Perfect.”
We keep talking about it. The movie plays.
Finn has somehow snagged a second slice of pizza without moving from his spot.
We casually discuss the logistics of sharing my holes like a fucking Xbox.
My guts are still warm with their cum. My skin is covered in hickeys and bite marks.
The pizza is solid, and the rain is still going.
Honestly?
Thriving.
* * *
The app goes live two days later. Miles drops a link in the group chat with zero context, just a note below it: Read the documentation.
There is actual documentation. It’s thorough.
It even has a FAQ. One of the questions is What does Maintenance mean?
And the answer is It means no, read the fucking room.
I don’t know when Miles found the time to write a FAQ, but I choose to be touched by the effort.
I hit Offline for the first time on a Thursday night while the guys are watching some game, just to test it out.
The dopamine hit is instant and strong.
This is, objectively, the most unhinged thing that has ever happened to me. And I’m so fucking into it, my dicks goes from semi to rock-hard in half a second.
I hear Walker’s voice, from the kitchen: “Yo. Kit’s offline.”
“Yeah. I see that.” Grant says.
The game continues. I wait. Though waiting implies anticipation, and I’m not anticipating. I’m just existing. A piece of warm meat on the couch waiting to get used.
Commercial break.
Heavy footsteps.
Walker swings a leg over my face, crushes my jaw open and drops his heavy, sweaty balls straight into my mouth, burying my nose in his taint and dropping his full weight down.
He grinds his asshole right against my nose, cutting off my air so I have to breathe his sweat and funk just to not fucking die.
He doesn’t say a single word to me, obviously, because right now I’m just his nutwarmer.
“Someone toss me a beer?” he calls out.
Footsteps. The clink of a bottle.
“Thanks, bro.”
The game comes back, and Walker stays planted in my mouth. He occasionally makes soft noises that aren’t for me. I hear the wet sound of him stroking his meat sometimes. I hear the announcers. I hear Grant talking shit about the play from across the room.