Part 1: Devotion in Silence

David and Caleb had been best friends since they were five years old. Now, after twenty years, they were still close but the nature of their bond was something the world couldn’t define in conventional terms.

David was tall, masculine, and dominant. His lineage could be traced back to Africa strong genes, strong presence. Caleb, on the other hand, was clumsy, submissive, and a little strange. Where David commanded respect by simply existing, Caleb faded into the background.

One night, after getting high, David turned to Caleb and asked what many had likely wondered.

“Why haven’t you had sex yet? You’ve had so many chances.”

Caleb hesitated before answering. “I don’t feel worthy,” he mumbled. “It’s not about being gay or not… I just… I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

Caleb wasn’t completely unsuccessful in life. His academic record was average. But school had been hell. The teasing. The humiliation. The endless reminders that he didn’t measure up. Over time, his confidence dissolved into self-loathing. He clung to those bad memories like they were ornaments.

Through it all, David had been the only one who protected him. Fought for him. Spoke for him. Supported him. In return, Caleb gave him everything he had though not in words. Instead, it showed in how he watched David. How he followed him. How he thought of him.

It wasn’t love in the traditional sense. Caleb called it a “male crush.” A desperate, confusing urge to belong to be near, to serve, to be used by David. Especially after one moment in their youth.

Back when they were teenagers, they’d once jokingly decided to compare the size of their cocks. Caleb had hesitated, ashamed. But curiosity won, and they dropped their pants.

David’s was... impressive. Thick, long, and powerful even in rest.

When David lowered his boxers, Caleb’s eyes had frozen. He stared not just because it was big but because it looked like it meant something.

Even now, Caleb hadn’t reached that kind of size. And that moment had imprinted itself in his memory forever.

One evening, high on weed, lounging in David’s room, they began talking about girls, fetishes, porn casual banter. But things shifted when Caleb confessed a few of his more unusual fantasies.

David listened closely, then paused.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you something,” he said. “Remember when we compared size back then? I saw your face. You looked at mine like… like you wanted it. Like, wanted it.”

Caleb froze.

David continued, “I might’ve been wrong. But you opened your mouth. You stared like it was calling you. Been thinking about that ever since.”

Caleb, half high and flustered, tried to change the subject.

But David didn’t let go.

Eventually, Caleb broke.

“That day,” he began softly, “when you pulled down your pants, I was shocked. It wasn’t just a piece of meat. It was something more. A monument. A memory.”

He swallowed hard, voice cracking with reverence.

“That cock… it stood for something. Not just flesh it pulsed with presence. Veins winding like rivers, its weight like a force of nature. Even flaccid, it looked alive. It smelled like musk, salt, and power.”

David raised his eyebrows, then smirked.

“Wow,” he said with a slow, amused grin. “That’s quite the tribute.”

He leaned closer, eyes sharp. “Didn’t expect a poem about my cock.”

David’s tone shifted into something darker.

“Why do you feel this way?” he asked. “Is it desperation? Worship? Addiction?”

Caleb knelt, eyes filled with shame and longing. His lips parted, trembling.

“I… I’m not even gay,” he stammered. “I swear. I never looked at men that way. Never wanted anyone that way.”

He paused. Then looked up at David.

“But your cock ruined me.”

His hands trembled.

“I wake up hard. I go to sleep aching. It’s all I think about. I see it when I close my eyes.”

He leaned forward, forehead pressing near David’s thigh, tears running down his face.

“I don’t want to be a man anymore. I don’t want to be me. I just want to be… your Cock.”

“Use me. Move me. Fill me. I don’t care what I lose. I want to be part of you. Just hanging between your legs. Forgotten until needed.”

“I don’t care about my name. My soul. My pride. Take it all. Just make me your phallus. Your slut.”

David exhaled.

“Look at you,” he whispered, tilting Caleb’s chin up.

“Crying over a dick you don’t even own.”

He chuckled not cruelly, but with quiet pleasure.

“You really mean it?” he said, voice deep. “You don’t want to be touched or even seen. You just want to hang. Useless. Just meat.”

“You’re not gay, huh? But here you are, begging for my cock like it’s your god.”

David leaned close, his grip firm.

“Say it. Say it out loud. What are you?”

Caleb’s voice cracked. “I’m nothing but your phallus.”

David stepped back, crossing his arms.

“Crawl.”

He pointed to the floor. “Show me what my cock looks like when it’s begging to serve.”