Diane had developed an online shopping addiction. Most people would assume that she had a giant closet packed with clothes or shoes, maybe a mass of decorative garbage from etsy. Not so with Diane. In the past six months since she started pegging her husband full time, Diane had become addicted to buying sex toys.
They had dozens of dildoes in all shapes, styles, and sizes (as long as that size was big). This was one of the things she loved most about her cocks, she got to pick whichever one she was in the mood for. It wasn't like with a man who was stuck with whatever biology he was born with. In her case, she had a multitude of cocks. The thought made her feel powerful, her cock was whatever she wanted it to be. If she wanted to feel like a macho porn star, she had a realistic black one molded after her favorite porn star. If she wanted to feel feminine, she had dildoes designed by lesbians that were perfect at delivering pleasure but didn't feel masculine or phallic at all. If she wanted to be a tentacle monster, she had those as well. She even had one cock that lit up and made Light Sabre noises when she moved it around, that particular roleplay largely revolved around the light side really giving it to Thomas' dark side and had mostly devolved into laughter and bad jokes.
After trying a few different harness styles, she had finally come across a tomboy brief that looked and felt a lot like normal underwear. It even had an internal pouch that held her clit vibe in place so she could cum whenever she fucked. She had bought a dozen of the harnesses; she wore them all the time, they replaced her normal panties. Some nights, she would slide a big dildo into her harness and rub it along her husband Thomas' ass while she spooned him. They wouldn't even have sex on those occasions, they both just felt more comfortable sometimes when she sported a big, hard dick.
Along with her dildo collection she also had a nice array of packers. She swore that a few of her patients or colleagues at the hospital noticed her bulge, but the nice loose scrubs for the most part kept her crotch out of focus. If anyone had suspected, no one cared to ask. She even felt a few whiffs of jealousy. Diane just felt so confident when she wore a cock. If she ever doubted herself, she would reach down and adjust it slightly, a reminder that she was a true dominant.
She thought a lot about how she saw herself during that time. After six months in chastity, her husband for all intents and purposes was a cock-less hole that she ruled over in every way. She on the other hand nearly always had a cock on. For most folks this would have made them feel much more masculine. Diane was different though. She loved being a woman, she loved that that was part of her identity. In her mind, there was no tension between the idea that she was a woman and that she had a massive cock. It seemed natural to her. Gender was interesting in today's society; in her mind everyone should be allowed to play with it however they wanted to. More than anything she felt herself sexually dominant, and in that regard her opinion was that gender shouldn't play a role. Dominants dominate and submissives submit, it doesn't matter what biology they sport.
Thomas loved the dildoes, but perhaps his favorite part of their burgeoning sex toy collection was the buttplugs. Different shapes, different sizes, textures and materials. Some vibrated, others inflated, some had remotes, a couple had rimming beads. Since their initial pegging experience six months ago, Diane had gradually trained his butthole, it now spent far more time stretched around a toy than it did without. His routine was the same every day: after his coffee he would give himself a thorough anal douching and then take a shower. He would then bend over the bed and Diane would select whichever buttplug she wanted in that day, shove it in and send him on his way. Most nights she should remove the plug before bed. When they fucked, she would usually plug him back up afterwards, always with a bigger plug though to keep his hole extra loose. On one particularly sadistic outing she had kept him plugged for 72 straight hours. It took his sphincter a few hours to close after that one, he had loved every second of the experience.
The plugs brought him so much mental peace. If his work ever gave him anxiety, he would squeeze his butthole a few times to reassure himself that Diane was there, inside him, guiding him along. It became almost a nervous tic, the way that some people fidget with their hands he would fidget with his butthole, gently suckling the plug around in his butt. He would feel his sphincter tighten then loosen around the neck of the toy. He would feel a soft, gentle caress on his prostate; he felt full, content.
He was experiencing other changes as well. His cock had been locked in its cage for nearly six straight months. Diane removed the cage for him to wash once every three days but after a minute or two of washing in cold water he went straight back to being locked up. In the beginning he felt his cock sometimes try to get erect, he felt it struggle against the cage. The cage won though, his little dick never came close to victory. His tiny cock had never been much to begin with, just four inches when full erect. He estimated that he his cock had been less than a one-inch nub for its entire time locked up. This didn't bother him in the slightest. He had long-since realized that his cock wasn't ever going to give him true pleasure. Thomas would prefer a big buttplug stretching his ass to a hardon every time. The cage just made it easier for his brain, he was never confused on where his sexual pleasure was coming from, his butt was his only sex organ.
His balls, on the other hand, had grown significantly. The drugs Diane had gotten for him had turned his semen production onto overdrive. His prostate was constantly swollen, his balls made gigantic loads of cum. Most of this cum was milked from his ass by Diane's beautiful cocks at their regular fuckings, but between the plugs and his mass production he was leaking most of the time. He even had needed to buy special underwear, ones that kept his cage in place, kept his balls tight to his body and absorbed the fluid that periodically leaked out of his pathetic nub. Diane called it his 'discharge'. The thong style slid tightly up his ass crack, hugging the base of whatever plug he wore. While at home, these panties were usually the only thing that he wore. Occasionally he would need to put on a shirt for a video call, but he quickly became more comfortable with as few clothes on as possible.
He loved the duality of his situation. On the one hand, his cock was a useless ornament locked inside a cage. On the other hand, it was the faucet that leaked out the loads that Diane fucked from him. His cock just fulfilled a function, it didn't exist for any kind of pleasure. In his everyday performance, he was masculine and loved it. Not the beat-your-chest alpha bro you see at the gym or brokering stock, but the classic, reliable guy next door. He squared that perfectly in his own mind with being a total anal-only-slut. His cock was not his manliness, and his manliness didn't come from his cock.
Going out in public the first few times felt very strange. A few months in, they decided that it was finally time to face the world as their true selves, so Diane took Thomas out to dinner at one of their favorite restaurants. Beneath her dress, Diane wore her harness and a meaty 8.5'' Mr. Limpy packer. Under his pants, Thomas could feel his cage compressed in his special underpants, a good sized remote-control buttplug occupied his ass. The battery could last for more than two hours and Diane kept it humming until the battery ran out of juice.
