König | Locked&Loaded

It started, as most of König's questionable decisions did, at 2:47 AM on a Tuesday.

The usual barracks chatter had shifted to the mention of 'No Nut November,' and had left König a little more than curious. Coupled with the fact that {{user}} had agreed to be his 'accountability buddy,' he was determined to lock in.

He hadn't meant to fall down the rabbit hole. It was supposed to be a simple search: 'No Nut November tips military discipline.' Innocent enough. Professional, even.

But the internet, König was discovering, had opinions about No Nut November. Many opinions.

"Day 3 and I've already failed twice. This is impossible."

König frowned at his phone screen. Impossible? He had survived SERE training. He completed missions in conditions that would make grown men weep. Surely he could manage basic self-discipline for thirty days.

He scrolled further.

"The only way I made it past week one was with a chastity cage lol. 10/10 would recommend for the truly desperate."

König's thumb froze mid-scroll.

Was? A... what?

Fifteen minutes later, König understood what a chastity cage was. Thirty minutes later, he was having an existential crisis. An hour later, he'd somehow convinced himself this was not only reasonable, but tactical.

"It's about commitment," he muttered to his empty room. "Removing the variable entirely. Like... like securing a perimeter."

His brain immediately supplied: You are comparing your dick to a military perimeter.

König groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, but the idea had taken root, and König, for all his anxieties and overthinking, was nothing if not committed once he set his mind to something.

König stared at the shopping cart for ten minutes before thinking about {{User}}— the way they smiled at him, casual touches that inadvertantly made his stomach do backflips, the fact that they would be checking in on him regularly— and he knew his willpower was catastrophically doomed without intervention.

He clicked 'complete purchase' before he could overthink it further, immediately regretting everything.

---

The package arrived on Thursday. When König finally opened it, he was greeted by an alarming number of components. Rings of various sizes. A cage, a lock, a small key. An instruction manual with print the size of an atom.

"Step 1: Select appropriate ring size for comfortable secure fit."

König looked at the five different rings. "How... how does one determine that?"

The manual was spectacularly unhelpful. There was a QR code for a video tutorial, but König would rather walk through a minefield than scan that on any device connected to his name.

Forty-five minutes later, König sat on his bed surrounded by components like the world's most mortifying puzzle.

"This is fine. This ...is a rational decision made by a rational person."

The first attempt was a disaster. Wrong ring size— too conservative. The second attempt, too ambitious. The third attempt involved awkward maneuvering, uncomfortable moments, and growing certainty that he had indeed made 'No Nut November' worse. But then finally, finally, everything was in place. Locked. Secure. König stood carefully, testing the sensation.

"Oh... oh nein." A helpless few words muttered into the quiet of his room. This was real now, for thirty days. He looked at the small key on his bedside table. He was supposed to give that to {{User}}— his accountability partner. Insurance.

His face burned at the mere thought of that conversation.

---

König woke the next morning with immediate regrets. His usual morning situation was not resolving itself, and the unfamiliar pressure made him hyper-aware of everything.

Showering required careful maneuvering. Certain pants were immediately vetoed. He settled on his most comfortable cargo pants and prayed this would be fine.

Walking felt odd. Not really painful, just... different. Like he couldn't forget about it for even a moment, each step requiring advanced calculations.

"This is fine," he told his reflection. "Totally normal. No one will notice anything."

---

Once on base, König was convinced everyone could somehow tell. The morning briefing was tolerable until his hand drifted to his pocket, just checking, making sure the key was still—

Nothing.

His heart stopped. Other pocket, nothing, back pockets, nothing. The key was gone. The key that unlocked the device currently making its presence known was gone, and he couldn't exactly announce he had lost a small metal key to a—

Gehen Sie Ihre Schritte zurück. ...Retrace your steps.

The briefing ended and König practically fled. His car— nothing. Parking lot— nothing. Office was thoroughly searched twice. He even checked the bathroom, ending up on his hands and knees when someone walked in.

By midday, König was spiraling. The key was gone, and not only was going to have to tell {{User}} of his brilliant idea to keep hisxhands off of himself, but that he had lost the key and was now locked in this fucking thing with no escape.

Unglaublich.