Transitioning to a New Device (a BPC Story)

Another bonus vignette, exclusively for paying subscribers and, eventually, ebook customers. This one goes with BPC 4. Enjoy!

(Note, this story takes place in a chastity dystopia, where the government exerts a great deal of control over character's sex lives. However, the characters generally choose and enjoy what sexual interactions they take part in. All characters are over the age of 18.)

***

It was almost the end of the day. Kristen had just completed her anal hook punishment and been allowed to remove the rigid curve of metal from her sore ass.

She wanted nothing more than to take a shower (even if it wasn’t hot), get something to eat (even if she couldn’t taste it), curl up in her bunk, check out what was on the feeds for a few minutes, and get started moving some of her homework into the “done” pile.

When she and Officer Deacon were assigned just one last case for the day, Kristen felt her empathy beginning to fray.

She forced herself to breathe and think back on how vulnerable she’d felt coming in for her first couple appointments at the Bureau, how much she had needed sensitivity from the staff who handled her case. Still, it wasn’t easy, giving a shit about yet another person who was probably here to turn in points for pleasure, while Kristen herself could not.

Hopefully, they’d at least be quick about it.

Officer Deacon set Kristen’s tablet to display the new visitor’s file and walked her to the waiting room, observing with her usual sharp, evaluating silence.

“Max?” Kristen called out the name on the file.

A small-boned man with baggy clothes and fashionably cropped hair leapt to his feet and ran beaming to meet her.

“Hey, that’s me, I’m Max.”

He stuck out his hand, and after an awkward second, Kristen shifted her tablet from one arm to the other so that she could shake it.

“Are you my officer?” he asked, tilting his bifocal glasses to read her badge. “Is that what I should call you? Officer?”

“This is Officer Deacon.” Kristen inclined her head toward her mentor. “I’m her trainee, and I’ll be handling your appointment. You can call me Kristen, or simply ma’am. Otherwise, treat me as you would a full officer of the Bureau.”

“Nice to meet you, Kristen, ma’am,” said Max, unfazed.

“This way, please,” said Kristen.

As she led him to their assigned room, she checked the date of birth on his file. By his size, the freshly post-pubescent instability of his voice, and the general vibe that he was full of more energy than he could hold, Kristen would have guessed he had a year or two left before he was old enough to be subject to pleasure control. But according to his records, he was nearly five years older than she was.

Officer Deacon opened the room with her ID card, then sat in the folding chair at the end of the table to watch, while Kristen and Max faced each other over its steel surface, from the usual officer and visitor chairs.

“What brings you in today, Max?” Kristen asked.

“Okay, so.” Max rocked back and forth in his chair, a hint of nervousness tinting his obvious excitement, but not dimming it. He reached into one of the many pockets of his baggy pants, pulled out his phone, and unlocked it. “As of this morning, I’m officially healed up from my bottom surgery. Well, this round. But this was the big one, for me. Probably. Yeah. I don’t think I’m going to do much more except for having them slip the balls in. Anyway, the doctor says my dick’s finally big enough that I’m allowed to, uh, slash required to, actually, switch to an erection restriction device. You know, like the cis guy default one. Only, the version that’s not stabilized on the scrotum, obviously. Not this time. Maybe by next time, though!”

Max pushed the phone across the table, and Kristen skimmed through the doctor’s note, which repeated more or less the same information in more doctorly language.

At the bottom of the page, there was a QR code, which Kristen scanned with her tablet. Max’s file instantly updated, displaying a bright red warning.

Incorrect device in use, subject is not secured to Bureau standards.

Beneath this, there was a model number for the recommended replacement.

Kristen took a moment to adjust her tired mind to the case at hand.

“So, right now, you’ve got a dick, locked up inside a dome plate chastity belt that was only designed to block access to a clit,” she summarized.

“Yeah,” said Max. “Yes, ma’am. Kristen.”

“This note gives you a three-day grace period to come in for an appointment,” said Kristen. “You didn’t want to stretch it out as long as you could? Spend some time grinding against the inside of your current device first?”

“I want to do this right,” said Max. “And with respect, I’ve been waiting years to grow my dick big enough for one of those tube cages. You think I’m going to wait one second longer than I have to, to be able to see it dangling down there? No, thanks.”

He let out a quiet, nervous snort.

“Well, lucky for you,” Kristen said with a shrug, “now that you’re here, I’m legally not allowed to let you leave without something to dangle.”

Max pumped his fists in the air and whooped.

Kristen got up from the table, unable to keep from smiling once her back was turned to Max. Tired, sore, and frustrated as she was, Max’s happiness was irresistibly infectious. It wasn’t every day Kristen got to handle a subject who was excited to have a device installed.

She pointed questioningly to what she thought was the right wall panel.

“Are you sure?” Officer Deacon tested her.

Kristen thought for an extra second, and then pointed again, to the same one.

Officer Deacon smiled playfully and opened the panel with her card. It seemed Max’s mood was rubbing off on her too.

Kristen followed the model number on the doctor’s note to find the smallest size of penis cage, with maximum chain support.

She set it down on the table, and Max immediately poked at it with fascination. “Oh, that’s terrific.”

The downward-curving wire cage was barely large enough to poke a finger into up to the second knuckle. Kristen had never heard anyone call it “terrific” before, though some descriptions had started with most of the same letters.

“Place your hands on your head,” Kristen instructed, “and I’ll open the current device to make the switch.”

“Oh, of course.” Max obediently clasped his hands over his feathery haircut, continuing to rock back and forth a little in his chair, grinning to himself. “But I also, maybe I should have said this at the start, I figured this would be as good a time as any to take my new hardware for a proper test drive, before you lock it back up in, uh, well, my other new hardware?”

Kristen smiled coyly at him, careful not to reveal how much she already wanted this appointment to stay a happy one for him.

“Of course. What would you consider a proper test drive?”

“Well,” Max thought for a moment, not quite able to meet her eye. “I’d like to… to thrust it inside something. I guess that’s sort of the main thing I’ve never had the chance to do. Something pretty tight, obviously. Is that something we can do, for, like, fifty points-ish?”

“Yeah, I can arrange that,” said Kristen. “If you’re willing to accept whatever the outcome is after fifty thrusts.”

Max let out a heavy puff of air through his lips. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll take that challenge.”

Officer Deacon tapped the table for attention and walked Kristen back over to the wall panels to confer.

“What tool are you considering for this one, trainee?”

“Sheath eight,” Kristen answered.

“Interesting, why?”

“It has the narrowest diameter, the attachments to be fixed in place, and transparent walls,” Kristen listed off.

“Why transparent walls?” Officer Deacon prompted.

“He’s getting to know his new dick,” said Kristen. “I figure he might like to be able to see it in action, as well as feel it.”

Officer Deacon smiled with approval as she opened the panel. “Good call.”

Kristen picked up the cylindrical acrylic sheath holder and carefully mounted one of the disposable, soft plastic sheaths inside it. She had seen the process demonstrated in class, but this was the first occasion she’d had to do it with her own hands.

She released a breath when she got it on her first try, without wasting a single sheath on practice.

She squirted the inside with lubricant, and returned to the table to mount the sheath holder on top of it, at the edge where Max was sitting. Finally, she set the stroke counter on the side of the holder to fifty, and returned to her seat.

“Now I’m going to unlock your old device,” Kristen said, entering the command.

Officer Deacon unobtrusively hovered her finger over her own tablet, and tapped to add her own authorization when the notification came through.

There was a click under Max’s pants, as his chains released.

“You may lower or remove your pants and any underwear,” said Kristen, “but you are not authorized to touch yourself by hand, except to dock yourself in the sleeve. When ready, you may thrust your new cock into the sleeve up to fifty times. You are authorized to cum, if you can. There is no guarantee of satisfaction, and no refund for unused thrusts. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Max, getting up and unfastening his pants.

He pulled them down, along with a pair of boxers, and the domed pubic plate of his chastity device, no longer chained in place, fell out onto the floor. Max ducked down quickly to pick it up and set it on the table with a respectful two-hand grip, albeit as far from himself as possible.

That done, he craned his neck down, stuck his pelvis out in front of him, and grinned his biggest grin yet at what he saw.

Kristen looked too.

A twinge of guilt brushed the pit of her stomach, a sense that it was inappropriate to be curious about Max’s anatomy. But long hours of training had annihilated her old, bashful instinct to look away when subjects undressed in front of her, and she doubted Max would want to be treated differently from anyone else.

His cock, it turned out, looked much like any other. It was the smallest Kristen had seen so far, to be sure, but there had been one or two others that weren’t far off. It had a foreskin that looked proportionately a bit small for the rest of it, like its growth hadn’t quite kept up, and the head that popped out as Max looked down at himself was particularly pink. The only thing that really stood out as unusual, however, was the current emptiness of the sack of skin below it, awaiting the scheduled balls.

“Aw, that is badass,” Max declared, shaking his hips back and forth and chuckling with delight as his cock wagged back and forth, far enough to tap the skin on either side.

It was already swelling up, seemingly in response to the pure thrill of its own existence, although Kristen did note with some flattered amusement the way Max’s eyes flicked back and forth between her and Officer Deacon for a little extra fuel.

Max saw her notice, and gave her an especially cute shrug-smile combo.

When his cock had expanded to its full length of three inches or so, he took the base of the shaft between two fingers, watching Kristen for approval the whole time, and lined himself up with the opening of the sheath holder.

He studiously avoided touching the head, and even waited for Kristen to nod before plunging himself into the tight, transparent orifice. The holder clicked in response.

“Oh my god,” Max grunted, clutching at the edges of the table. “Oh my god, oh my god, wow, okay.”

“That was one,” Kristen reminded him. “The sheath will detach from its anchor points after fifty, and you will still not be authorized to use your hands.”

“Right, thanks,” said Max. “I should keep count, I guess.”

He thrusted again, staring down in wonder at his cock beneath the acrylic surface, with its foreskin pulled all the way back by the tightness around it.

“Two,” he whispered to himself, in time with the counting ticks of the sheath holder. “Three, oh man, four, five, oh wow, six…”

“Enjoying yourself?” Kristen asked, ever so lightly teasing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Max replied, unhesitating.

“Would you look at that thing?” she said, resting her cheek in her palm and gazing through the holder. “That’s you now. That’s your cock, fucking that sheath.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Max, with quite possibly the brightest smile Kristen had ever seen.

“It’s a good thing you came in when you did,” she said. “A clit blocker definitely wouldn’t be enough to keep that little scoundrel under control for long.”

She watched carefully for Max’s response, pleased to see an extra, eagerly forward-thrusting twitch in the muscles of his ass, in time with his agreeing chuckle.

Reminders of what was going to happen after his permissible stimulation did not seem to detract from the experience for him at all.

“That appendage could have taken over your whole life,” Kristen went on in a low whisper, “if we didn’t get it locked up stat, in a nice, tight cock cage. In fact, I think we should discuss higher security options. This one looks like an escape artist to me. What do you think, Officer?”

“Clearly a troublemaker,” Officer Deacon agreed with sweet sternness.

“And you know he’s only going to want to escalate from here,” said Kristen. “I bet that cock won’t be able to settle down and learn respect and restraint until it’s fucked at least one real, live person. Max, do you have anyone in mind for the honor?”

“Uh, no,” Max blushed, glancing again between Kristen and Officer Deacon. “Not yet….”

“Well, when you do, you know where to bring them,” said Kristen. “Just make sure you’ve been good and saved up your points, so you can give them a proper test drive too, because from now on, the Bureau’s going to be accounting for every second of hardness you ever get, just like we do for every other man under our jurisdiction.”

It took a special sort of subject to keep smiling at that.

“Between you and me,” Kristen whispered. “I hope I get to be the one to unlock you next time, and the time after that. Whether you come in with a partner or not. I bet you’re going to treat every erection like the special occasion it is.”

Max grunted deeply somewhere in the middle of the word, “thirty-two,” and then gave a couple extra half-thrusts that didn’t quite set off the counter.

Kristen watched in quiet fascination as his cock pulsed climactically inside its sheath, without ejecting any fluid, until Max slouched heavily forward over the table, blocking her view.

“Was that thirty-two?” he asked, after a moment, gasping for breath. “I might have lost the thread there for a bit. It could have been thirty-three. Or maybe forty.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Kristen reminded him.

“Ah, right, no refunds,” he said, mood dampened slightly for the first time since his arrival. “I’ll know how to plan better next time.”

“You did great, Max,” Kristen assured him. “It’s better to overbudget than run out, believe me, I know.”

Max nodded, braced himself, and pulled out of the sheath with an extra spasm of feeling across his face.

Kristen turned to gather the cleanup supplies, and Officer Deacon tapped her on the shoulder.

“What did you just do wrong, trainee?” she whispered.

“I…” Kristen froze for a moment, thinking hard. “I turned my back on an unlocked subject?”

“Correct.”

“But he just came.”

“You can never count on knowing an individual subject’s recovery period.”

Kristen nodded. “Thank you, officer. Will you watch him for me for a second?”

“This time, yes.”

“Thank you, officer.”

Kristen grabbed her latex gloves and sanitary wipes at double speed and returned to Max.

“I’m going to clean you up a bit so that I can install your new device,” she explained.

“Yes, ma’am,” Max sighed contentedly, leaning back in his simple steel chair.

Kristen wiped him down, careful to reach every crevice of his retreating cock and the slackening skin around it. He squirmed a little with ticklish gasps.

“Here it goes,” she said, taking his softened cock firmly in one hand and the tiny wire cage in the other.

With a few pokes of a finger, she stuffed the head into its new home, and from there the rest was easy. She wrapped the chains around Max’s hips — a few more of them than it took to secure Kristen’s own wider, flatter, more stable device — and gave the command with her card to tighten them all into place.

While Kristen and Officer Deacon double-checked the digital transfer of his files and remaining points, Max cycled through a dozen poses, checking the look and feel of the cage.

He pulled his pants up and down, crossed and uncrossed his legs, touched his toes, and did something that was almost a splits.

“How do you feel?” Kristen asked. “No discomfort unrelated to the restriction? Nothing feels like it’s going to chafe?”

“No, it’s great! It looks just like my older brother’s. I feel so…” Max cleared his throat. “I feel so normal. Thank you.”

Without warning, he threw his arms around Kristen.

Kristen looked questioningly at Officer Deacon over Max’s shoulder, unsure whether there were any rules about this and how she was supposed to respond to it.

Officer Deacon tossed one hand in the air in a gesture of, Your call.

Kristen hugged him back.

“Congratulations, Max.”