What would the reality of being with someone like this be like?
Initially, love-making would be a big deal. It couldn’t ever be something spontaneous. You would need advance notice, about two hours I’d say, and you’d get to work opening yourself.
Personally I don’t do poppers; I’ve never understood why sex has to be chemically enhanced. Every time a guy offers them I just politely wave them away.
That said, I’ve managed to get my giant dildo inside me, so I know it’s possible. But even then, it’s never been a case of “just shove it in and have a bit of a play”. Whenever I’ve got the dildo out it’s always been a long session, coaxing myself open, slowly working it in. And then afterwards I’m so sore the thought of anything going near my arse for the next 72 hours is fearsome.
So the reality is that you’d need to train to receive a partner like this every day. It wouldn’t come straight away. He would have to be patient. It would start with once a week, at a designated time. You’d have to allow a good couple of hours.The next few days you’d be untouchable, and he’d have to content himself being sucked in the interim.
The following week you’d go at it again. It woud most likely be exactly the same as the first time.
But by the fifth or sixth week you’d start to find it easier. I’d say it would be a largely mental process; simply the knowledge and memory of successfully having got it inside the previous few weeks would make you relax and go at it with an altered attitude, even just subconsciously. You’d find that it didn’t take him as long to get it inside. You’d be pleasantly surprised and suddenly you’d find you were making love, not “training”.
And with that revelation things would ease up. You’d start doing it twice a week. You’d start to find that you were healing in 48 hours instead of 72, and eventually it would be just 24.
And so you’d start doing it every other day. Make love, spend 24 hours repairing, and then make love again. It would be a bit like the gym. On days and off days. You’d enjoy your day repairing because you’d know it was for a good reason.
And then, well, the logical conclusion is that eventually your cunt would be so familiar with being prized open by this monster that it would lose its elasticity altogether, it would just cease to clamp shut. The surrounding skin would no longer become taut, the flesh would no longer seize up. You’d be malleable, like putty down there. Your hole would become unrecognisable, mashed up. But not ugly - on the contrary: he’d look at it and see testimony to your devotion and willingness to accomodate him. He’d be proud that he had shaped you, proud of you for making it happen, not to mention profoundly grateful for permanently recasting your body for him.
And so you’d arrive at the point - a few months, a year? - where lovemaking was as easy with him as it was with someone a third of his size, where a second thought wouldn’t eve be given. Just like a favourite pair of gloves that retain the shape of your hands when you take them off, your cunt would be a perfect mould of his cock and he would glide in with ease.
It would take time and devotion, but be oh so worth it.