Eric comes up with an idea for how to get out of his predicament, continued from part 3 of “To chase and be chaste.”

Trapped inside DateMaker’s underwear prison, Eric felt frustrated, empty, and hopeless. That night, he whined whenever he felt the impenetrable barrier between his fingertips and his cock and realized how often he unthinkingly groped himself. Periods of furious humping punctuated a fitful, dreamless sleep, and he awoke the next morning with bloodshot eyes and an incurable horniness that gave him no pleasure. 

He stumbled through his workday like a zombie. The combination of sexual denial and enforced numbness had affected his behavior in the office, and more than one colleague observed that he didn’t quite seem like himself. 

If they only knew, Eric thought as he tried to make it from the conference room to his office without anyone noticing or stopping him to talk. He was just a dozen paces away from the safety of his office when a gravelly, baritone voice called his name. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, son?” 

Eric turned. His boss, Mr. Kinney, was approaching him at a trot. The older man’s belly moved back and forth in time with his quick steps, slowly loosening his tie from its clip. 

“Sorry, Mr. Kinney,” Eric said. “I’m not feeling great. I—” 

Eric tried in vain to avoid looking at his boss. Something strange had played games with Eric’s attention all day, and it was getting worse. Anytime he was in the presence of another man, it was next to impossible to focus on anything besides the bulge in his pants. Eric became fixated, and questions fired at light speed in his mind. How big was it? Was the bulge mostly cock or mostly balls? What kind of underwear did he have on? 

The meeting he’d just come from had been torture because when he did manage to look one of his male colleagues in the eye, he became so tongue tied that he could barely form a coherent sentence. As Kinney sidled up to Eric outside his office, Eric felt the compulsion descend on him once again. 

“I… think I need to… go home, Sir,” Eric struggled to say. His gaze immediately darted back down to his shoes. It was irresistible. He wanted to look at his boss’ bulge. 

“Look at me, son.” 

Looking up from the floor to Kinney’s crotch was easy, but Eric felt a pair of invisible hands keeping his head fixed in place and preventing him from going further. The silence between the two men grew awkward as Eric struggled to look his boss in the eye. Finally, he made it, and Kinney appraised him in two seconds flat. 

“You look fine to me. Get back to work.” 

“Y-Yes, Sir,” Eric said quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Something about the DateMaker underwear not only made him obsessed with bulges but also made it hard for him to refuse an order from another man. They pulled rank on him by virtue of his encasement, and he didn’t just need to obey them. He wanted to. 

Back in the safety of his office, Eric chipped away at a backlog of emails for the next hour. He was grateful to have something on which to focus his attention besides what his male coworkers were packing. Productivity felt good and almost made him forget his predicament. But every few minutes, his right hand would subconsciously drift from the keyboard down to his crotch and remind him that DateMaker had trapped him in some kind of sexless nightmare. 

A knock on his office door broke Eric’s concentration. He looked up and saw Max, one of the junior copywriters, looking nervously back at him. 

“I was wondering if you had a free minute,” Max said. 

“Of course,” Eric said, waving him in. “What can I do for you?” 

Max closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Eric was surprised not to feel the urge to stare at Max’s crotch. Max stared back. 

“Is there something wrong?” Eric asked after a long moment. 

“I noticed something in the meeting earlier today,” Max said. “The way you were looking at everyone else.” 

Fuck, Eric thought. The last thing he needed was for some young up and comer to report him for perving on his coworkers. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“I think you do.” Max put his hands on his belt buckle and tapped his crotch with one finger. “I think you have the same problem as I do.” 

Eric leaned forward in his chair. “You mean… DateMaker?” 

Max nodded, unbuckled his belt, and slid his pants down his thighs, revealing an identical pair of smooth, white, plastic underwear. “You, too?” 

Eric nodded. “Trapped for almost a whole day. I let the release timer run out and… I don’t even know how to describe what happened.” 

“I made that mistake, too, at first. I got the timer back, and I’ve been abiding by it.” Max chuckled nervously. “Who knew I could do my business and shower all in five minutes?” 

“Wait,” Eric said. “How long have you been wearing these?” 

“About a week.” 

Eric felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. The message he’d gotten from PapaDave001 promised him something would be done about his account within 48 hours. 

“I don’t think I can make it a week, man. I’m going crazy as it is.” 

Max put a friendly hand on Eric’s shoulder. It was an awkward gesture, given that they both had pants around their knees and their crotches were encased in plastic. “You’ll get used to it. I promise.” 

Eric clumsily pulled his pants back up and plucked his phone off his desk. “I don’t want to get used to it. If DateMaker won’t talk to me, I’m going to make them.” 


“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” Eric said, his posture reflecting his newfound confidence. “I’m going to create a second profile.” 

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