The Toy Box

Authors Note: This story was originally written as part of a series called: The Super Nut-Blasting Stories, and therefore contains wildly-extreme, magically-enhanced, fantasy sex that could never happen in real life. If this bothers or distracts you please consider reading another story.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Imagine a Box...

It is a simple wooden box. An ancient wooden box, made of mahogany, eighteen inches wide by fourteen inches deep and three inches tall with a one inch tall lid that swings up and down on gold hinges. The top is adorned with a teak inlay in the shape of a crescent moon. It locks with a golden key in the front and inside it has eight small crushed, red, velvet lined cells.

Currently there are seven intricately carved wood figurines inside the boxes cells with one slot open.

The figures are all unpainted, pure wood, and in the shape of naked human males. One is tall and muscular, another is short and plump while another is of Asian descent and another of African descent. Basically each one is unique and very special... to their owner...

A Large Lonely Beast

Toys, in general, are things that you play with, but then, my toys are not like anything you've ever seen and I'm not a normal person. Sure, I look like a normal, every-day human being, but trust me, I'm not, and no, I won't get into it any further than that, so fuck off, it's simply not necessary.

My given name is Varuna, but when this story takes place, I had chosen the simple name of Thomas Vee for my everyday, modern, public life. I only used my given name among my own people, of which very few remained, and with my toys.

Even then I was a very striking and imposing figure. I stood six foot eight and weighed-in at around two hundred twenty pounds. I kept my light brown, wavy hair buzzed to the skull on both sides, but let it grow longer, to about two inches, on the top of my head. I kept a full brown beard and mustache, trimmed down to an eighth of an inch that gave my face a velveteen, soft, somewhat leonine but wholly masculine look and texture.

There were intricate designs running up and down both my muscled arms, across my broad back and over my wide chest down to my dick. They were imposed upon me by my people a long, long time ago.

I often wore old ratty jeans, black steel-toed, work-boots with a black (or at least dark, I hate white) cotton tank and a denim jacket, leather riding gloves with no fingers, a few thick, cold, silver, chains about my neck and my right ear was studded with a steel edged, crushed diamond inlay, crescent moon.

To the world that I lived in, at the time, and for all outward appearances I was merely a large, chiseled, tattooed, unmarried, white biker in my late thirties. Of course, like you, and who YOU appear to be, I was so much more than I appeared to be.

Patronizing an Artist

It was around ten, on a very hot night, in Arizona, when my cell-phone beeped with a text message from Spiels.

It read: ITS READY PICK UP NOW

I hopped on my motorcycle and rode it over to Spiels Tattoo parlor downtown. The place was closed, but he was watching for me inside and saw me come to the door, helmet in hand. He opened it for me and let me inside and re-closed and locked the door. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said.

Spiels was twenty three and covered in tats himself. He was a very talented artist and this was his place.

I had come in here a few years ago when he just opened and was struggling to establish himself. I got a simple crescent moon on the back of my left shoulder and it was then that he told me that he also made figurines. I was very intrigued and asked him if he could make something for me and that was the start of my Toy Box.

He was just above five foot ten, had an average build for his weight and wore a size ten and a half shoe (trust me, I know these things). He smelled of faint cologne, some deodorant, a little sweat and a hint of weed. An odor that I would come to understand is pretty standard for him.

That day Spiels was in blue jeans, tan work-boots and a white tank-top showing off the complex and beautiful, dragon-ladies tats, running up and down his arms. His short straight dark hair was gelled to a point, like a mohawk, and it was charcoal black. His face was long and smooth, but his chin had a patch of a beard on it and he was pierced (in many visible and other places) and wearing large earspools, with skulls in the center, in his stretched earlobes.

"C'mon back," he said, leading me behind a dark curtain, out of the tattoo parlor and into the wood-shop in the back of the building. "I think you're going to really like how this one came out."

I was eager to see it, but I held my excitement in check… "I'm sure that I will," I smiled at him, "You always do such great work for me. Are you sure you're not at least part gay?"

He chuckled, "Eh, nah, I definitely like girls... bi, eh, may - be... dunno, but who really cares, right? As long as you're having fun with people and it's all legal and consensual it is what it is, right, bro?"

"Right. I fully agree."

He had always done a really great job for me and he always made me exactly what I asked for each time. Of course I DID send him vast drawings and plans and even some 3D images sometimes so he had a lot to work with. In the future these things could be printed off like candy canes, but back then, I needed a real artist to get what I required. Even if it had been printed off, a machine simply cannot create the delicate and realistic, subtly of a good hand-made, figurine. It takes a living touch for the kind of thing I needed and a computer printed, perfect copy would be end up making something bland and ugly in the final product.

On his cluttered work bench was a wooden figurine covered with a small blue rag. He went to it and did the unveil and I was astonished once more. The little figure of a young man was exactly what I had described.

"Well?" he asked with a sly grin.

I was agog at the sheer detail and beauty of the little statuette, "He's - totally - fucking - perfect!"

He smiled wide and was pleased, "I'm glad you like him!"

I picked it up and examined it closely, the statue was so detailed and done with such precision.

I'd requested that this one be smaller than the others in my collection already and it was. The straggly hair was suggested in the wood carving. The long face with the thin lips and square jaw were delicately indicated. A cock and balls fitting his body size were clearly defined between his legs while his hands and feet were carved with exquisite aplomb. "Wow, I can't wait to get this back to my place. Thank you so much for this."

"You're totally welcome, bro."

I asked about payment, "Our standard agreement?"

"Fuck yeah," he nodded, undoing his jeans' button. "Man, I been waitin' for this all fuckin' day! I haven't shot off in like four days, too."

I was playful, "Nice!"

His fat, cut, seven inches flopped out already semi-hard. I went to my knees before him and he closed his eyes as my mouth engulfed his prick with fervor and intent. He was fully erect in seconds. When I mentioned his scent earlier, it was so I could tell you now, that down here, it was much stronger and very intoxicating to a, well traveled, four hundred year old, cock-sucker like me.

I ate on his flesh-pipe for a good eight minutes, making sure to waggle my tongue on the down stroke and go all the way to the hilt where my nose was nestled in his curly pubes. His pre-cum was plentiful and very delicious and salty-sweet. I knew that he would soon cream off hard and that we'd be done and my account would be considered paid in full... with cum.

Both his hands flung onto my skull, "Fuck yeah," he growled with eager passion for the head-job and the rising need to get off. His pelvis jammed in and pulled out and his breathing was heavy as he got himself closer and closer. I managed to get one of my hands on his nuts and I was squeezing them for him. He really liked that, and not easy either, roughly and with some force, too.

Finally he held me still and fucking lost it directly in my trap. Spiels had some wicked dick muscles (or what have you, as I'm no doctor or egg-head), because when he shoots his whole dick flexes and jumps and squirms between your lips.

I added a hard squeeze on his balls, which he always told me he liked me to do, just as he came. A really huge spurt of his fresh, silken sperm blasted out of his dick and coated my tongue and cheeks. I swallowed it quickly and let him jet off the rest into me before downing that too.

I then licked his dick clean and stood up before him. He packed up his cock without a word further and as if nothing had just happened. We then said our polite good-byes and I took my new toy home with me, very eager to play with it... for hours.

Back at my place, I stripped down to naked and I started putting together the needed supplies to make it work.

I had only one really tough item to produce, tears. I am not a little pussy-boy, so crying for me, does not come naturally or easily. I used an old actors technique of biting my tongue slowly until I felt wet in the eyes. I collected three drops into the small cup that I often used for this.

I made a small cut on my finger and collected three drops of my blood. I then spit into the cup several times and started to jack on my large dick for the last ingredient. I worked up a good load, as I had not cum in several days to prepare for this moment. I could just barely taste the strong after-taste and smell the scent of Spiels huge load in my mouth and throat. That was enough to get me there. I held my breath and felt the jizz in the pipe and then I pumped off a large wad of my own directly into the cup.

I mixed all four fluids together with a small wooden spoon and picked up the cup and the new figurine from Spiels.

Moonlight Magic

There is an ancient location deep in the rain-forests of Costa Rica, near Monteverde, that is naturally cloaked to all non-magic wielding, human eyes. My people created this secret place thousands of years ago and I instantly transported myself there.

I guess that you could say it resembled an Incan temple or something like that. Made of stone and covered in vines and greenery from the forest surrounding it. It had walls that slanted inwards and was basically a tall pyramidal structure with a flat top.

The Moon was full and a warm breeze snaked through the lush, singing, jungle all around me and passed my bare skin. I located the inset foot markers that were carved into the stone at my feet. Between them was what appeared to be a blue glass circle of four inches in diameter. I set the figurine down on the center of it with its back toward me. I poured the fluids I'd gathered earlier, from the cup, onto the little statue and watched the liquid instantly get absorbed deep into the wood.

I stood up, with my feet on the insets, and I reached out both of my arms and held them parallel to the ground, palms up, as I let my head ease back. I stared up into the night sky and the glowing white globe directly above me. I closed my eyes as I felt my body starting to draw in the awesome power of the Moon, slowly at first, but then growing ever faster with strong passion and absolute need.

As the power snaked from my fingertips, up my arms and shoulders and spread across my chest it lit up my tattoos in a blinding cyan-white glow. The power appeared almost as if white hot electrified circuits ran all over my body, even places where I wasn't inked. Behind my eyelids, my irises glowed as well, with my black pupils creating striking hollow, dark centered circles in my eyes.

Luna Potere

Moon power. Humans are just starting to understand exactly how import the Moon is to Earth and the Earthlings that inhabit it.

Most people on this planet forget that the Moon is still in the sky, even in the daytime, when it is the Sun that dominates. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

Fewer still fathom, or even begin to consider, the unique and powerful force that the Moon exerts on the Earth. I feel it's presence all the time. I was taught long ago how to tune into it and I can sense that power all around me all of the time.

Let's not forget that it is the gravitational pull of the Moon in its orbit, that cause the planets oceans' regular tides to ebb and flow, like a massive heart-beat. Without them some people think the Earth would be barren and cold like most of the other planets in this solar system. Acting like a giant cosmic spoon, stirring up the warm, wet, primordial ooze, millions of years ago, it was the Moon that was (and still is) quintessential in the development of almost all life on Earth.

Recently a few, very bright, scientists have tested (and found) a link between earthquakes and the position of the Moon over the Earth's surface. It makes sense that any pull strong enough to move oceans might cause tectonic plates to snap if they are nearly at breaking point already. The trick is knowing which plates are in maximum distress and where the Moon might cross over those places and when.

You don't have to explain to me the awesome power of the Moon. I feel it, I know it, I use it. It is the source of all of my, what you would call, magic.

The Making of a Man

Inside my head I began chanting the sacred words.

I lowered my face slowly and as I did the little wooden figure began to grow at my feet. The wood began to change to flesh and blood and the figurine was becoming a real human as I chanted and focused my thoughts intently. I started to close my arms around the new frame before me.

Spiels had done his job well and the boy stopped growing with the top of his head maybe three inches from the bottom of my chin, in short, he was small, but I wanted him small; light-weight. I wanted him to be fully pick-up-able and hold-able and totally, fucking snuggle-able. I wanted to pull his smaller body to my larger one and hold him tightly to me. I craved the feeling of our naked, warm, bodies against one another.

As my arms locked around his torso he felt warm and smooth to me and his firm back met my strong chest and the boy whimpered once in my embrace. I held onto him softly, but lovingly, for I was in love with him, and he was in love with me. That's how this toy-thing worked. He shared my essences, as it were, and most of my knowledge of facts and some of my language. We were two halves of the same coin, him being born out of me, and my soul, by the ancient and strong powers of the Moon. This caused a deep bond of man-love between us.

I felt his chest rising and falling with calm breaths and knew he was almost ready. I called upon one last huge pull of power and channeled it into my toy. Somewhere far in the distance a single strike of lightning, that we didn't even see caused a long, low and slow, roll of thunder to fade across the vast greenery of the jungle.

The glow in my arms and body and eyes and tattoos faded as I broke my connection with the Moon. I opened my eyes and held onto the naked youth before me with a firm embrace and again he whimpered but this time he also turned his head back to me and he smiled at me. He wasn't ready to speak words yet even though he had the ability and knowledge to do so.

I gently spun him around to face me. His innocent eyes looked up at me with wonder. He had short wavy, straggly, black hair and a smooth body with fair skin. His eyes were green and lips thin and pink. His body was fit and firm, and not overly built up with muscle. He had no belly-button, of course, as he wasn't born, he was made, made especially for me, for this moment. My short, cute as hell, jungle-boy, boy-toy.

His eyes searched mine a moment before he jumped onto me. I never lost his gaze as I easily caught him, and yanked him tightly to me, so our chests, sweaty and slick from the jungles heat, met us with fire and passion and slid us against one another. I felt his legs wrap tightly around my lower torso as his arms went about my neck. Now face to face I witnessed a strong yearning hope in his eyes and I slowly met my lips to his. He boner-ized between us in seconds. I felt a very strong and savagely eager, nearly seven inch pecker, on me that I just knew could go all fucking night and that boner-ized me, too.

He was my new toy!

A horny as hell, little fire-cracker of a young man that was sexually charged, ravenous for sex and anxious to get started. I knew that he longed to be taken by me and used to his fullest extent and abilities. I fully understood his fathomless need and utter desperation to share himself with me.

I would make sure that he was thoroughly and deeply loved, enjoyed, fondled, kissed, hugged, fucked, sucked, and completely drained.

Sadly, we would only have, a very short, six hours of play-time.

TO BE CONTINUED...