Segmented

CW: body-horror; bdsm; questionable consent

BEN

'

Bennnn

,' she whimpered as I tasted the sweet juices of her labia, suckling at her clit and lips before dipping my tongue deep with. She hissed and gasped, clawing at my hair and scratching my shoulders softly as I tended to my wife, settled between her spread thighs in the dark night of weekend privacy.

'Oh shit,' she moaned, her hips rolling as I gripped her thighs, holding her in place. She writhed and shuddered as I took her closer, sloppy and indulgent. 'Fuck -

fuck,

Ben, I'm gonna cum!'

'Hmmmm,' I hummed into her slit, sucking on her clit as my tongue grazed it from within - something she

loved

.

She froze, before shuddering, shaking in the bed as her orgasm took her in waves.

'

OHHhhhh God yessss

...'

When she was finished, and her breathing had settled and her muscles had stopped seizing wonderfully within her, I kissed my way up her; when our lips met, we grinned, her legs locking around my waist.

THUD THUD THUD.

We paused, the sound of hammering on the door downstairs shocking us both. It was early on a saturday - there was no one we were expecting.

I looked down at her, and she shrugged. 'Ignore it,' she said. 'Fuck me.'

It wasn't until about two hours later, when I was showered, dressed, and realised I'd left my watch in the car the night before, that I actually went outside.

When my foot kicked into the box, I stumbled, damn near tripping over the thing. It was heavy, and set into the mat outside our front door like an anvil, pressing its shape into the thick fibres.

'What the...' I muttered, kicking it again. It barely moved.

Cubic and a deep, matte black, I picked it up, surprised by the fact that it

wasn't

that heavy. If anything, it seemed oddly light considering the way I'd kicked it without it budging. Inside, Ginny was making us both a well-earned cup of coffee, and through the corridor between the kitchen and the front door, she noticed me.

'What's that?'

I shrugged, walking in with it. 'No idea,' I said. It was just on our front step.'

'Well, don't bring it in!' Her eyes widened, a look of odd fear coming over her - but then it broke into a smile. 'Could be one of those poop-bomb jokes people do.'

'That's a thing people do?'

'Do

not

bring that into our kitchen. Open it outside.'

I put it on the kitchen counter, looking for a way to get it open.

'Ben, I'm serious.'

I smiled at her, turning it over. She scowled, adding the milk and sugar to her coffee, and handing mine to me with just the milk. 'If that thing explodes in poop, you're cleaning it up - you hear me?'

'Yes, dear, I shall clean up the inevitable poop tornado this strange little box is going to summon.'

Then, when I turned it over again, it popped open.

'Oh God,' Ginny whined, watching from the other side of our kitchen island, the marble beneath the box reflecting her worried expression.

'No poop,' I said as the top lifted in an invisible hinge, impossibly thin yet hard as stone. Ginny peered over, and together we looked inside and saw yet something else that took us both for a loop.

'Is that a ring?' Ginny asked.

It was a silver-ish hoop, about three inches in diameter, with some dots carved into it on either side of a thin black band that ran around the center.

I looked up at her. 'You know I'm not proposing again, right?'

'Hmf. Fine. Just because we're married now doesn't mean you have to stop being romantic.'

'I am romantic!' I said, before picking up the ring. It was warm to the touch. 'But this isn't me - I swear.'

A pause, as she watched me roll it between my fingers. 'Do you think it was whoever knocked on our door this morning?'

'Who?' I asked, slightly distracted as I tried to make heads or tales of the carvings on this mysterious piece of jewelry. If it

was

jewelry. 'Oh - right. Maybe.'

Ginny took it from me, and squeezed in between her fingers - it flexed, like a silicone band, even though from the weight anyone would

swear

it was metal.

'Do you think it's worth anything?' I asked, but now Ginny was the distracted one, peering at it like she'd discovered a new frog in the Amazon.

'Not if someone just threw it away.'

Ginny held it up, peering through the ring. As she did, I poked my finger through, waggling it at her eye; Ginny laughed, letting go - but when we expected to hear the clatter of the metallic ring hit the marble countertop, instead the ring attached to my finger - shrinking in size by about half in the process.

We stared at it, this

thing

on my finger, dumbfounded.

'What the

fuck

,' she whispered at me, after a moment.

'That was bigger a minute ago, right?'

Ginny nodded at me, a look of uncertainty crossing her features. 'Take it off.'

I pulled it off, easily, and placed it carefully on the counter, and both me and Ginny watched, in rapt confusion, as it slid outwards, growing back to its original size.

'

What

the

fuck

,' Ginny hissed again, poking it as we stared.

I looked at my finger - there was nothing wrong with it. No scratched, or red lines - nothing.

So why did it feel like something was wrong?

'Try something bigger,' she said, snapping me out of my stupor. 'See if it grows, too.'

I nodded, pulling open a drawer and fetching a whisk. As I held it, I picked up the ring and put it to the end - then, as I pushed down, it opened up and allowed the handle of the whisk through it, keeping flush to the rubbery material. Even as it bumped and curved, the ring followed, bending out of its circular shape when needed.

'That's fucked,' Ginny laughed, as I put the whisk down, pulling the ring off again. I rolled it between my fingers, and slotted it back onto the forefinger of my right hand. It shrank, snugly fitting my digit, and Ginny frowned. 'Why have you put that back on?'

'It harmless,' I said. 'Maybe it's, I dunno, like a free marketing thing. You know, how companies send out their products for trial.'

'Do they usually leave them in creepy boxes, unlabelled, on a person's doorstep?'

I shrugged. 'Guerilla marketing is weird. I had a friend who's company was convinced by their marketing team to just change all of their social media to french for a month - they thought it would be

mysterious

, and pull people in. Instead, most consumers thought there was a fault, and flooded the complaints line. They stopped after two days.'

'Is this the same, though?' she asked.

'I have no idea.'

I held up my hand, getting better light, and saw those dots and the thin black groove that fed around the ring, slap-bang in the middle. With my other hand, I fiddled with it, twisting it between my thumb. The sides, on either side of the black band, rotated individually, but I couldn't feel it on my fingers. No pull, or drag on my skin.

'Strange,' I said, twisting until the dots lined up next to each other.

Then, there was an ebb of blue light from the dots, and, the next thing I knew, my finger fell off.

Thump

.

Against the marble.

I just stared at it. Ginny screamed, hollering and scrambling to get to her phone, dropping it, and grabbing it again mid-air as she fumbled, panic making her shake.

It didn't hurt - that was the first oddity.

The second was that there was no blood. I looked at my hand, and the section of finger left attached to me, just below the knuckle. Half of the ring was still there, the small dot ebbing blue, and where I would expect to see blood and muscle and tendon and sinew, there was just... nothing.

A black cover, completely dark, where my finger had been severed.

Ginny watched me as I touched it, swatting my hand away.

'Don't mess with it!

' she hissed, as someone picked up. 'HI! Hello - yes, uh - I think, uh, we need an ambulance? Please?'

As Ginny called for aid, I reached for the finger on the counter, and the numb, shocked core in my stomach rolled as the detached digit flexed, curling as the rest of my hand did. In fact, as I picked it up, I realised that I could still

feel

it. Or, more accurately, I could feel my hand close around the finger, as clear as day. Like it was still attached.

The half of the silver band that wasn't beneath my knuckle was still on the finger, and at the cross-section there was another black void. I poked it, and Ginny swatted my shoulder, but I ignored her.

I put the finger back where it should have been, and aligned the blue, ebbing dots. They flashed again, and then I pulled the ring off.

I was fine.

The finger was back, attached. No scar, no cut, no

nothing

.

Ginny gaped at me, speechless.

'Um - so sorry,' she said into the phone. 'It was a prank - someone played a prank on me. No emergency. Thank you. Every so sorry.' She hung up, and stared at me. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

'It's fine,' I said, waggling it, bending it,

testing

it.

'It fell off, Ben.'

'But it's fine!'

'It can't be fine.'

'But it is,' I said, almost struggling to believe it myself. I picked up the ring again, and Ginny flinched, but before she could do anything, I put it on my finger, and did the same thing again; twisted to line up the dots, waited for the blue ebb, and then-

Thump.

'That's fucking disgusting,' Ginny said, even as she inched closer. She eyed me, suspicious, but curious now, too. 'Does it hurt?'

'No!' I was nearly laughing. Maybe it was hysteria. Or shock, again.

'Make it move,' she ordered, and I did. I waggled it, managing to get it to crawl across the tabletop.

'I can feel it,' I told her. 'The marble - it's still my finger. The nerves, the tendons are all connected.'

'But... that's impossible. You

know

that's impossible, right?'

I looked down, picked up the finger, and reattached it. The ring came off effortlessly. 'Apparently not.'

After a beat, she nabbed it from me. 'I want a go.'

* ~ * ~ *

GINNY

I almost wanted it to be some kind of sick joke. A bad prank, like the ones that get teenagers kicked off of YouTube. Ben wasn't the type, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give it a go.

If it was a trick, though, it was a

damn

good one.

There was only one way for me to confirm it - and that was to give it a try. I fought the bile in my throat from the residual panic of Ben dismembering himself, and slid the ring over my pinky finger.

'It's the least important one,' I justified when Ben's eyebrow raised.

'It's actually the pinky and the ring finger that give you most of your grip.'

'Shut up,' I said, and twisted until those dots he'd pointed out lined up.

Blue glow.

Thump

.

'That's fucked,' I said, looking at my finger on the table. It rolled slightly, and my hand sot out to grab it - and I could

feel

the fucking cold of the marble, and the warm of my hand,

through my finger

.

The one that was no longer attached to me.

What the

fuck

.

'I know, right?' Ben said, looking at me. 'What... what do we

do?

'

I put my finger back, and pulled the ring off. '...is there anyone to call?'

'Like who?' he asked, watching me as I pushed the tips of my fingers into the ring, watching as it stretched, slipping easily over my hand. When it was over my wrist, I twisted the bands until the engraved dots aligned. Ebbed.

This time, I was holding my hand, so when it came loose, it didn't drop to the table. Instead, I pulled it away, holding one hand in the other.

'It's like a halloween decoration,' I said.

'Or something out of the Addam's Family,' Ben sighed, watching.

I put my hand on the table, and looked at the stump of a forearm left attached to me; the black plane where it just...

ended

. It was unnerving, but the lack of pain, and the fact I could still feel my hand like nothing was wrong - it was strange.

On the counter, I made my hand lift up like a little spider. 'Thing,' I said, making an Addam's Family reference. Ben didn't seem to appreciate it very much.

Then, as I walked my hand across the counter to him, I got an idea.

'You know - it could be fun,' I suggested, eyebrow raised.

Ben looked at me, probably not on my level yet. 'Fun?'

I walked the hand to him, until it bumped against his crotch, at counter-top level. I poked him with my finger.

'Fun,' I said, biting my lip.

'Ginny, I'm not putting that thing on my dick,' he sighed.

I shrugged. 'Alright,' I conceded. I just thought it could be fun. Having it in me

all day

, like a plug. Except - it's you. I could go to the shop or something. With you. In me.'

He didn't seem amused, even when I poked him again.

'I'm not putting it on my dick.'

I pouted.

'Ginny, no.'

I grabbed my hand, putting it back and twisting the bands. I pulled the ring off, and chucked it to him. 'Then don't,' I said. 'But if you change your mind... let me know. Because I have

no idea

what else we're supposed to do with this shit.'

Ben sighed, looking down at the ring.

'All the way to the shop?'

* ~ * ~ *

BEN

Usually, after a morning of

fun

, Ginny would be pretty much set for the day. I mean, we had a pretty good sex life. At times, it was

great

. We'd had our moments of experimentation - bondage, toys, all that sort of thing. But, generally speaking, we were pretty vanilla.

As such, I was able to forgive myself for the pang of - Panic?

Adrenaline

? - Whatever it was, as my wife settled onto her knees before me in the kitchen, it coursed through me.

Ginny, of course, knew I was bisexual, but that I'd never really had the chance to be with a guy - the closest was making out drunkenly with a flatmate while at Uni, and that was almost a decade ago. Ginny was a fan of pulling that into the play, though, especially while going down on me.

Namely, as she unbuckled my jeans and snaked my semi-hard cock from my boxers, her hands slid around to my butt, taking a cheek in each hand as her mouth happily took me to my hilt - which wasn't too far, while I was still pretty soft. Her fingers crept further round, until her tips grazed my backdoor - our one

naughty

aspect of sex that wasn't strictly

vanilla

.

I fucking

loved

prostate play.

Without any lube to hand, I doubted Ginny was tempted to have a go dry, but it was more of a muscle-memory thing for us.

My fingers threaded through the dark locks of her hair as I grew hard in her mouth - a generous seven inches of somewhat-conflicted sturdy arousal filling her eager mouth. I moaned as her tongue went to work, a hint of suction punctuating her down stroke, the wet, warm welcome like silk on my glans.

'Fuck,' I shuddered, as Ginny looked up at me, a smile in her eyes. 'You're really into this, aren't you?'

She nodded with my cock in her mouth, slurping a little. I let out a low groan, before watching as Ginny pulled back. With a smirk, she presented the ring, and pressed the metal-like thing to the head of my cock. As before, it stretched and shifted around Ginny's fingertips as she took it down my length the way she'd done with one of those cock rings, a year or so ago; while I'd found

that

quite uncomfortable, this I barely noticed.

She slipped it over my balls like that, using her fingers to widen the ring's diameter, before letting go; it shrank, snug behind my balls.

'Do you really want them with you as well?' I asked. She considered it. 'Good point - but I want to try this first. Ready?'

I sighed. 'You better fucking hope it goes back on.'

Ginny gave me a slightly faltered smile, and, without another word, I watched as she twisted the silver. The blue ebb made the base of my cock glow.

Then, it came off my body.

An odd, instinctive throb went through me - as though I was expecting a level of

extreme

pain to kick in at any moment.

Of course, it didn't. Instead I felt only Ginny's fingers around my length as she held my cock in her fist, staring at it with an eye of wonder. She zipped me back up, and I did up my button, even as my cock remained in her grasp; I could feel the cool of the ring against my skin, while my balls hung beneath Ginny's thumb.

'This is so fucking strange,' muttered.

And, as my fixation with just how

weird

this whole deal was, Ginny saw my cock become slightly soft in her hand as she stood, presenting it to me. She frowned, and I watched as she lifted it up to her face, and swallowed my length into her throat.

I gasped, the sensations of her

expert

oral flooding through me, despite the fact that my clothes were all zipped up.

Ginny pressed my cock as deep as she could go, the soft of my balls smooshing into her chin, and her lips bumping into the metal ring, before she gagged a little and pulled me out.

'Oh my God,' I said with a stumbled.

'Ben,' she said, rubbing the tip of my cock against her bottom lip. 'I think I love this.'

'The cock without the trouble of a man?'

She grinned, before briefly sucking on the tip, making me groan. Then, her eyes brightened, and I just

knew

she'd had another idea. One I couldn't tell if I was going to like or not.

'Upstairs,' she said, bolting away, my cock in-hand, excitedly bouncing through the house. I followed, up through our carpeted hallway and steps, to the bedroom we'd shared for years, and watched as Ginny hopped up onto the bed - all the while, feeling her excited hand gripping my cock, her fingers around the shaft tight and comfortable.

She bounced on her knees, settling in as I followed, watching with hungry eyes as she pulled her top off. Her chest was one of those things a husband didn't like to admit was a factor in the relationship, but

my God

I loved her tits.

And, as she fed the tip of my cock into her cleavage, my dick upside-down, allowing her to suck one of my balls into her mouth, I leant back against the door, struggling to stand up straight.

'Jesus,' I said, a laugh in my word as she used my length like a sex toy; I could feel the soft, supple flesh of her breasts against my cock, as vivid as the most luscious nights spent together, until she pulled me out. She placed my disembodied cock on the bedding, and I watched as she undid her bra, peeling it off herself teasingly.

Then, she hopped back onto her bum, undoing her zip and pulling them off quickly, so she was left in nothing but her red underwear and white socks.

She grinned at me.

'You're loving this,' I told her.

* ~ * ~ *

GINNY

'I am,' I replied, watching him as his face went red, his nervous way not wanting to admit how

naughty

this was.

I threw my trousers towards the pile of washing in the corner, not caring too much if I hit my target or not, and grabbed his cock from the bed.

'Watch me,' I told him, as I lay back, using his cock the way I had used toys, back when I had some. Since getting married, I'd been a good wife and thrown them out - my husband was enough for me.

Well, now I had the best of both worlds.

And I

liked

it.

I held his cock at the base, his flesh warm in my hand as precum leaked from the tip. I put it to my lips, sucking the droplet quickly, and I heard him whimper as I did. Next, I dragged his cock down my chest, slapping it lightly against each of my tits - I knew he liked them.

Like I said - I was a good wife.

Then, lower. I dragged him against my panties, feeling him flex and strain as I rubbed my clit with the tip of his cock.

'Holy shit,' he moaned, the sensations probably alien to him. To me, they were a meld of my secretive nights fucking myself to sleep with the handle of a whisk or something, mixed with those times he'd be all naughty and play into the dirtier, nastier side of sex I liked.