He sits on the couch, motionless. It’s where he spends most of his time. He can’t very well just get up and walk away, after all. She had his arms and legs removed years ago. It was all consensual, of course. She told him her idea and he agreed, after not much thought. The way she explained it to him, it seemed to him like it was the obvious thing to do, like he would have been crazy not to accept. At the same time they had removed his vocal chords. The knew he wouldn’t need them anymore. So they both agreed it just made sense to have them done at the same time.
He breathes in deeply through his nose. He feels the cool, night air against the inside of his nostrils. It was, after all, one of the few exposed places left where he could feel anything. Part of the agreement he made with his wife was that he would be permanently encased, from head to toe (or torso, as it were) in latex. She had a custom suit especially made for him. No arms or legs, for obvious reasons, an attached hood with no eye holes, nose holes with little hoses that extended partially up into his nostrils so no skin need be exposed, a padlocked zip across his mouth, and a padlocked zip across his anus. When he happily climbed inside it, they had used a mixture of lubricant, glue and other things to help glide him in. Once settled, the mixture halted all hair growth and the glue bound the latex permanently to his skin.