Chapter 1: The Unseen Cage
The house smelled of cheap cologne and whispered secrets as I sat hunched over my sketchbook in the cramped corner of the living room. At eighteen, I, Timmy, was a prisoner in my own home, dwarfed by my towering mother, Vanessa, who stood at 168 cm to my pitiful 152. She still saw me as her little boy, her baby, despite the calendar screaming otherwise. My body hadn’t caught up with time—barely any hair, a voice that squeaked, and a cock that measured a measly 11 cm, now locked away in a cold, metal chastity belt she’d forced on me. ‘Not yet, Timmy,’ she’d cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clicked the lock shut. ‘You’re not ready for grown-up things.’
Tonight, the house buzzed with her latest conquest—a broad-shouldered man named Greg, who’d brought along his fourteen-year-old daughter, Lila. Lila looked more woman than girl, with curves that mocked my flat, childish frame. She caught me staring as she sipped soda at the dining table, her lips curling into a smirk. ‘What’s wrong, short stuff? Never seen a real girl before?’ she teased, her voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of adult laughter.
I flushed, my hands balling into fists under the table. ‘I’ve seen plenty,’ I lied, my voice cracking like a dry twig. ‘Just not interested in brats.’
Lila laughed, a sound that stung worse than a slap. ‘Brat? Look at you, wearing cartoon pajamas at a party. What are you, ten?’
Before I could snap back, Vanessa’s shadow loomed over me. ‘Timmy, sweetheart, it’s past your bedtime,’ she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her tone was honeyed steel, her eyes daring me to argue. At 44, she was a force—dark hair cascading over toned shoulders, her presence commanding every room. She still bathed me herself, scrubbing me like I was a toddler, ignoring my protests. ‘Come on, up you go. No need to see all this grown-up nonsense.’
I glanced at the table where Greg was whispering something in her ear, his hand sliding up her thigh under the tablecloth. My stomach churned. ‘I’m not tired,’ I muttered, but her grip on my arm was iron.
‘Don’t sass me, little man,’ she said, her smile tight. ‘You’re not ready for this world. Kissing, touching—none of that’s for you yet. Now march.’
Humiliation burned my cheeks as Lila snickered, and I trudged upstairs, the weight of the chastity belt a cruel reminder of my cage. But as I lay in my childish bed, surrounded by stuffed animals Vanessa insisted I keep, I heard footsteps. Not heavy like Greg’s, not sharp like Vanessa’s. Soft. Sneaky.
The door creaked open, and Lila slipped in, her silhouette framed by the hallway light. ‘Thought you might want some company, short stuff,’ she purred, closing the door with a click. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she stepped closer, her tank top clinging to every curve. ‘Your mom’s got you locked up tight, huh? Bet you’re dying to know what you’re missing.’
My heart raced, the metal around my cock suddenly feeling tighter, hotter. ‘Get out,’ I hissed, but my voice wavered. I was hard—or as hard as I could get in this damn cage—and she knew it.
‘Oh, come on,’ she taunted, sitting on the edge of my bed, her thigh brushing mine. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’re horny as hell, aren’t you? Bet you’ve never even touched a pussy.’ Her words were a blade, slicing through my defenses. She leaned in, her breath warm on my ear. ‘I could show you. Right now.’
I was sweating, my hands trembling as I fought the urge to beg. Her fingers trailed down my chest, stopping just above the waistband of my stupid pajamas. ‘Say please,’ she whispered, her voice dripping with power. My mind screamed no, but my body was betraying me, aching, desperate. I opened my mouth, the word on the tip of my tongue, when her hand slipped lower—
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