Kota sat on the crinkling paper sheet of the examination table, the sterile white material sticking uncomfortably to the back of his thighs through his cargo pants, the faint chemical smell of disinfectant and latex gloves hanging thick in the air like a second skin.
The doctor's office felt smaller now, the walls closing in with their pale beige paint and the soft hum of the air conditioning vent overhead, the distant murmur of a nurse's voice in the hallway the only reminder that the outside world still existed.
The femboy doctor adjusted his thin wire-frame glasses with one manicured finger, the green bob cut swaying gently as he leaned forward on his rolling stool, white coat riding up just enough to reveal the dramatic flare of his hips and the way his massive, shelf-like ass strained against the seat of his tailored slacks. The beauty mark above his lips caught the harsh fluorescent light as he cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional in the quiet space.
He reached into a drawer with steady hands and pulled out three packaged fleshlights, the matte black boxes sealed tight with clinical labels, each one marked with high-capacity specs and discreet medical-grade warnings.
The doctor set them on the desk between them, the plastic wrapping crinkling softly under his fingers, and pushed them toward Kota with a calm, almost sympathetic nod.
"Since you have a pre-Vanishing penis, you're not as familiar with the anatomy we teach in modern classes," he explained, voice smooth and measured, though his eyes flicked briefly to the front of Kota's pants with a flicker of professional curiosity mixed with something warmer. "Post-Vanishing anatomy focuses almost entirely on small, hypersensitive penises and the way the body compensates with heightened prostate sensitivity and increased anal elasticity. Your case is… different. Rarer. Your body is producing semen at an accelerated rate far beyond normal limits. Most of the energy usually reserved for storing fat or maintaining basic functions is being diverted entirely toward seminal production. If you don't release at least five times a day — through masturbation or intercourse with as many partners as possible — the pressure can build to dangerous levels. We're talking risk of testicular rupture, internal bleeding, even permanent damage if left unchecked. These will help bridge the gap until you can establish a consistent routine."
Kota stared at the three sealed boxes, the weight of the words sinking in like lead in his stomach. The doctor's explanation hung in the air, clinical yet heavy, the reality of his condition pressing down on him in the small, brightly lit room.
Khalil sat beside him on the plastic chair, big hands clasped tightly in his lap, jaw clenched but silent, the lines of worry etched deep into his face as he absorbed every word without interrupting. He didn't speak, didn't question, just stayed there like a solid, quiet anchor, the only sound the faint crinkle of the paper sheet under Kota's shifting weight and the soft click of the doctor's pen as he made a final note on the chart.
The drive home was quiet at first, the old Ford F-150 rumbling through the familiar streets, the late afternoon sun painting long orange stripes across the dashboard and the cracked vinyl seats. Khalil kept his eyes on the road, one hand loose on the wheel, the other occasionally adjusting the rearview mirror, the faint scent of motor oil and old leather wrapping around them like always. Kota stared out the passenger window, the buildings and strip malls blurring past, his mind replaying the doctor's words in a loop — five times a day, testicular rupture, no cure other than managing the pressure.
The three packaged fleshlights sat heavy in his backpack on the floorboard, a constant, silent reminder of what his body had become.
Khalil finally broke the silence halfway home, his voice gruff but steady, the kind of tone he used when laying down hard truths after a long shift. "It's inevitable, son. In this world of only men… you've got no choice but to let yourself have sex with a man. There's no other way around it. Not with what the doctor just said. I won't pretend I like it, but I won't pretend it isn't the only option either. Your health comes first. We deal with what's in front of us."
Kota's shoulders loosened a fraction, a strange wave of relief washing through him at the words.
No more tiptoeing around the idea, no more hiding in bathrooms or sneaking around like he was ashamed of something his body couldn't control anymore.
He nodded once, the tension in his chest easing just enough to let him breathe a little deeper, the weight of secrecy lifting even if the weight of everything else remained.
Khalil glanced over, the corner of his mouth twitching in a rare, teasing smirk.
"That boy we saw in the elevator earlier… you like him or something?"
Kota got super flustered instantly, face heating up like it had been slapped, the flush crawling up his neck and burning his ears as he sputtered. "No — what? No, Dad, it's not like that at all. He's just… some guy. From around the building. Nothing like that."
Khalil chuckled low, the sound warm and knowing, eyes back on the road as the truck turned onto their street. "Just teasing you, son. Relax. We're home."
The truck rolled to a stop in front of the apartment complex, the familiar chain-link balconies and faded brick walls coming into view under the fading light. Khalil killed the engine, the sudden quiet settling around them like a blanket. Kota grabbed his backpack, the three packaged fleshlights shifting inside with a faint rustle, and stepped out into the cooling evening air. Khalil gave him one last firm nod from the driver's seat before pulling away, the taillights glowing red as the truck disappeared down the road.
Kota climbed the stairs to their floor, the familiar creak of each step grounding him a little, and let himself into the empty apartment.
The place was quiet, the faint smell of yesterday's rice and beans still lingering in the kitchen, the living room couch sagging in its usual spot under the window. He kicked off his sneakers by the door, the weight of the backpack heavier now with the new toys inside, and headed straight for his room, the door clicking shut softly behind him. He set the backpack on the bed, unzipped it, and pulled out one of the sealed fleshlights, the matte black packaging cool and smooth under his fingers as he turned it over in his hands, the clinical label staring back at him under the dim lamp light.
Kota stood there for a long moment, the apartment silent around him, the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen the only sound breaking the quiet. He stared at the package, the reality of what it represented, what his body now demanded, settling over him like a heavy, unavoidable truth. The doctor's words echoed again in his head, the need for release, the risk if he didn't follow through, the way his balls already felt full and aching again even after everything that had happened today. He turned the fleshlight over once more, thumb tracing the edge of the seal, the weight of the day and the strange new chapter of his life pressing down on him as he stood alone in his room, the package held tight in his hands, the decision hanging in the air like the last breath before a long, inevitable dive.