You decide to say yes to the spare needle and let them show you how to fill it up. When you eventually push it in you realise the silliness of it all, as if nothing has happened, until you’re walking home and wonder if you’ve overstepped the line, until you’re getting out the shower and see your swollen clit between your legs like a fresh tattoo. A mark of commitment where the mark precedes the commit. After the anxiety it becomes fun. You are unaware of its size until confronted with it, until you look down to witness your body’s functioning and see how they suck on it, and think oh, to yourself, of course. Now you get off on thinking about that image. Them sucking your dick. Does that make sense? Does it have to.