He woke up already panting. He didn't remember the dream, but the cage was soaked, tight, aching like it was trying to burst open. He didn't bother checking his phone. He already knew. Today was Wednesday. And Wednesday's toy wasn't soft pink or playful. It was deep purple. Seven full inches. 1.75 inches thick. Wide enough that his hole ached just looking at it. The head flared like a plug, ridged, heavy. When he picked it up, the base filled his palm. It didn't feel like a toy. It felt like a cock. Real. Demanding. Non-negotiable. He lubed it carefully. Too much, just in case. And yet, when he got on all fours, the tip pressed in slow and mean. The first two inches burned. His knees trembled. His hips rocked shallow, like his body was afraid. But the second the word Mistress crossed his mind, he pushed all the way down and screamed into the pillow. The stretch felt like it split him open. His hole clenched and throbbed around it, muscles fluttering like they didn't know whether to fight or surrender. But Nick? Nick moaned. Nick whimpered. Nick came with no hands, no contact, locked and leaking through the cage while the toy held his guts wide open. By the time he slid off, the dildo was dripping. He was shaking. He felt like a slut. And that was before the day even started. At noon, he was supposed to meet a friend for lunch. He tried. Dressed normal. Walked downtown. But halfway there, someone's dog was named Mistress. He heard it. He froze. And then he ran. Behind the building. Into a bush. He dropped his man bag. Ripped it open. Pulled out the purple cock and lube and dropped his pants right there in the shade. He knelt in dirt. Suctioned it to a flat rock. Fucked himself like the world wasn't real. Cars passed. Voices carried. And Nick bounced, rode, took all seven inches while his locked clit twitched against his thigh like it was trying to escape. But there was no escape. Not from the stretch. Not from the need. Not from Mistress. The app buzzed later that night, as he uploaded his final video: bent over the bathroom counter, hole red and swollen, riding Wednesday slow and deep while whispering, "I'm yours, Mistress… I'm yours…" Wednesday: Complete. Your hole is remembering. Tomorrow's toy won't let it forget. Nick collapsed in bed, muscles sore, heart pounding. His body was changing. His mind was melting. And Thursday's toy was almost two inches thick.
