Based off a suggestion from someone, I don’t recall who exactly.
Eight years, ninety days, and about twelve hours. That’s how long since Simon had cum. All that time ago, back when he’d been someone else entirely–younger, a business man aiming high up the corporate ladder. Straight, but something about that strange fag who’d been eyeballing him that night at the club, dressed in this weird leather and rubber shit, hell he’d thought–it was worth a try with a freak like that right? When he saw the fag’s caged up cock, he’d laughed, and the fag had laughed too, but his had been different, almost relieved and excited and he pressed their crotches together, and when he’d pulled away, the cage wasn’t on his pierced cock anymore–it was on Simon. He’d assumed it was some fucked up magic trick or something, but the guy had just sprinted off, shouting that he was free, finally, and Simon hadn’t caught up to him, and he soon discovered that this was more than a cage–it was a curse.
It had no key, no lock. It was a solid piece of plastic, clear, his cock right there, but unreachable. He tried cutting it, he tried melting it even, but nothing affected it, but he didn’t start appreciating it as something truly strange until it started coming alive. At work, it began squeezing, cutting off circulation to his nuts, turning them blue and making him sick if he didn’t leave, if he didn’t go somewhere and find a few cocks to suck, to keep the cage happy. He lost his job rather quickly, but he was young and smart–he found another, something similar, but again, the cage refused to let him remain in that life. It wasn’t where it wanted him. It wasn’t where it wanted him to be.
It became particular about what kind of men it wanted him to service, and he found it was most satisfied when he cruised truck stops. sucking off rough bikers and truckers in the cubicles and forests around the place, but it wasn’t until a trucker offered him a ride that the cage gave him that first, tantalizing taste of pleasure. He said no, thought it was more of a moan, but he didn’t think he’d be able to resist for long. Eventually, one came along who didn’t take no for an answer anyway, hauled Simon into his cab and abused him for the next thousand miles, before dumping him somewhere else.
He started seeking out those fleeting tastes of pleasure. Tattoos. Going naked in public and humiliating himself. Servicing strangers. Physical abuse. Bondage. Fisting. Piss play. What the fuck was he becoming? What in the hell has be become? Still, it’s close now, he can feel it starting to loosen around his cock, eager to find another host to latch onto. It will find it in a few weeks time, while Simon’s getting gangbanged by a pack of bikers, and the leader will find the cage inexplicably around his own cock the next morning. And Simon will be free–kind of. Except the cage around him now is an invisible one, and just as unbreakable, and he’ll he sucking cock on the road for the rest of his life.