So I feel like I should expand some more on that “new thing” I mentioned in the last post. I told you that I’ve started saying, out loud, that I don’t have a penis. I said:
[T]here’s something magical about it. Almost alchemic. Me making myself say it, me hearing me say it, makes it true and real in a way that’s difficult to convey…
The point of saying it is related to something I’ve been discussing in the last several posts. How I’ve discovered a kind of disassociation between me and the contents. A feeling that my sexuality has entered a kind of post-penis phase now that Belle has made our marriage post-penis.
For all intents and purposes, I don’t have a penis. It’s been locked up for 1,324 days straight and hasn’t been used for anything sexual for 580 days. And now I know, because she’s told me, I have no reason to believe it will happen again. So, I’ve decided to try and accelerate the disassociation of myself and the contents. To take a more proactive approach to becoming post-penis.
Saying something out loud makes you believe it more. It’s why monks chant and Catholics pray the rosary. Saying a thing is much more powerful than just thinking it. I have a lot of thoughts and almost all of them are more complex than “I don’t have a penis” and none of them make the kind of impact of hearing my own voice declare it.
What I want is to really and truly stop thinking about what’s locked inside the Orion. To stop thinking about its potential and what I could be doing with it were it not under Belle’s control and permanent denial. I do not want to stop feeling the consequences of it being that way, though. In short, I want to enjoy the byproducts of having a permanently locked penis while never wasting any time pining away for it.
I feel like this is an evolution of a path I’ve been on for 15 years. You can read it in the words I’ve used on the blog. At the beginning, I actually said I had a locked cock. Then I stopped calling it that and referred to it only as my penis. Then, the penis. And, finally, the contents. It’s been steadily downgraded from being associated with a word that connotes action and power to one that only defines it by its containment.
If I don’t have a penis (and I don’t), then all my efforts and sexual imagination and attention can be focused outside the device where they belong. And if it’s never, ever coming off (effectively) and what’s in it will never be used again, that seems the most logical and productive course of action. So, whenever I feel really horny or feel especially tight I will cut off any unwanted thoughts by reminding myself “I don’t have a penis.” I’ve been saying it a lot the past week.
And I feel like it’s already making a difference. But the only way I could make you understand how would be exposing my entire internal monologue and that seems outside the remit or capability of even this blog. I’ve already said that my urges to fuck Belle when we have sex are naturally waning since she stopped letting me do it. I also can’t remember the last time I thought about how great it would be jack off. And, of course, it’s literally been years since I had any kind of fantasy involving fucking anyone at all.
I think another thing that’s helped to become post-penis is only being in one type of device. I have been in either the plastic Orion or the titanium one 87% of the year. If not for moving to the Steelheart while the titanium one (and the all-important PA pin) was sent back for adjustments, I would have been in one Orion or the other about 95% of the year so far. Turns out, thinking about jumping from one device to another is, in a way, thinking about the contents of the device. Being very consistent with devices means less thinking about them (and it).
Also, obviously, being locked up pretty much all the time also helps with the disassociation. I will end the year having been out about 18-20 hours meaning a total locked percentage of 99.8%. I really, really want that percentage to be higher. A 99.9% locked time would mean being out less than nine hours over 365 days. Since the overwhelming majority of the times I’ve been out have been for air travel, I have to decide if I will risk another up close and personal inspection by my friends at the TSA. All the inside-the-pants friction experienced from walking from my truck through the parking garage and terminal straight to the nearest post-security bathroom is entirely too distracting and destructive to my efforts of disassociation.
I’m also thinking of ways of never actually seeing it anymore. I feel like never laying eyes on it outside a device would be a huge boost to becoming post-penis. I could easily change devices with my eyes closed (and have many times done it in the dark or under covers and only by touch). Piece of cake. I could probably even do the little bit of shaft-shaving I tend to when I have the chance without actually having to see it. That’s really the only part of the thing I can’t keep tidy while locked up.
So anyway, that’s the deal with the whole “I don’t have a penis” thing. It’s about really and truly making the contents just a little piece of meat whose only purpose is filling out the insides of the Orion and making it tight. It’s about being post-penis physically, mentally, and emotionally.