Mr. Mack checks the post office on the way home Tuesday evening and finds several discreet, unmarked packages waiting for him. He hurries into his home with the boxes in his arms and sets them on the coffee table while he takes off his coat and hat.
Reverently, Mr. Mack unpacks the boxes and draws out the items that he ordered from various sites across the web. He grabs the cardboard box that he’d used for his kitchen implements that day and empties it into the kitchen sink, then returns to the living room to fill the box with toys actually intended for the purpose for which he’s using them. He cuts off any tags and plastic packaging that he comes across and lays each object gently down in the box. Already his imagination is running wild.
One item he ordered is unfortunately absent, but hopefully it will arrive tomorrow. Mr. Mack finishes packing up the box and then, in a fit of self-congratulatory humor, writes “toys” on the side of the box in large bold marker. He is, after all, a toy shop owner, is he not?
When he comes into work on Wednesday morning, he is carrying the toy box under his arm and whistling. He unlocks the door and takes the box of toys to the back room, placing it by the desk with sweating palms. He then returns to his usual post behind the store counter, thankful that the enormous wooden desk hides his desperate erection.
3 PM rolls around, and Oliver does not appear immediately. Mr. Mack turns the sign to closed, despite misgivings. Although it might seem suspicious to anyone viewing the shop from the outside to see Olly enter when the toy shop is closed, he doesn’t want to have to deal with any customers in the store when Oliver finally does arrive. Mr. Mack’s paranoia eats him from the inside as Oliver continues not to appear, and he frets and wrings his hands and taps his foot until the door finally opens at 3:18 and the boy comes slouching in.
Mr. Mack almost opens with “you’re late,” but he wants to remain on the best possible terms with Oliver. He plasters on a smile and does his best to rid himself of any traces of annoyance. He approaches Olly with a smile and open arms, detouring slightly to lock the front door behind the boy as usual.
“Welcome back!” Mr. Mack crows.
“Hey,” Olly offers. He makes a bee-line for the back room, not even pausing to gawk at the array of merchandise that Mr. Mack has on display. He has a sort of ‘let’s-get-this-over-with’ air about him that makes Mr. Mack’s heart sink slightly, but at least he still appears to be cooperating.
When Mr. Mack reaches the back room behind the boy, Olly has already divested himself of pants and underwear and is climbing up onto the desk. If he’s noticed the box labeled toys, he doesn’t say anything.
“Such a good, obedient little boy,” Mr. Mack comments. “Your parents must be very proud of you.”
Oliver doesn’t say anything, just raises his ass into the air in silent invitation. Good enough for Mr. Mack. He opens the box; among the items is a new type of lube that will work better with the many toys he’s purchased.
Mr. Mack lubes up his hand and begins in what is becoming the usual way—by sliding his pointer finger slowly into Olly’s anus. No matter how many times he does this, it never ceases to thrill him; the delicious warm softness and pressure of the boy clenching around his flesh.
Perhaps it’s his imagination, but Mr. Mack likes to think that it’s a bit easier this time, compared to the previous day. His finger slides in with only a little coaxing, delving into the warm little cavern like a spelunker. Mr. Mack has to force himself to be patient; he has so many things to try, but the last thing he wants to do is cause the boy pain. He has two more days to go after this and he needs Oliver to keep coming back.
So he wiggles the finger about, waits and massages the boy’s bottom inside and out with his hands until the muscles begin to relax. Then he inserts a second finger and repeats.
“Your butt is so amazing, Olly,” Mr. Mack says aloud. “Truly. This is just what I always wanted to do. You’re really making an old man’s dreams come true here. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” says Oliver. It’s probably just a polite reflex, but Mr. Mack shivers to hear it nevertheless. Welcome. Yes. The heat of the boy’s rectum around his fingers is certainly making him feel welcome.
Mr. Mack looks down into the box, trying to decide on a plan of action. He’s spent all day fantasizing about how, exactly, to go about this. But now that the moment has come he finds he still hasn’t quite made up his mind. There’s plenty of choice; certainly more than he can use in one day.
Some of the toys are absurdly optimistic, too large to use on Oliver by any stretch of the imagination, but Mr. Mack was unable to help himself when purchasing them. For instance, a shoulder-length rubber glove designed like a tentacle with no fingers and ridged rubber suckers along one side. There’s no way Olly could handle fisting at this juncture, but the mere notion of it was too mouth-watering for Mr. Mack to pass up. He has a fantasy of reading Olly a story about pirates being attacked by a giant squid, and at the climax of the tale thrusting his arm up inside the boy, plunging elbow-deep into his tight passage. The image is seared onto the inside of his brain, despite the myriad ways in which it is implausible.
For now, Mr. Mack grabs something much smaller. It’s cylindrical and pink, roughly the width of the baster he’d used the previous day, but much shorter—only two or three inches long. A cord snakes out from the end of it to a little control pad with a few buttons and a dial. On the surface are a series of little hemispheres, like strange 3-dimensional polka-dots.
The site from which he’d bought the toy had billed it as an ‘internal massage tool.’ Mr. Mack hopes that means it will be a good way to get Olly to relax and prepare him for more ambitious toys. He finishes fingering the boy by plunging his last two digits into Olly’s ass as deep as they’ll go and scissoring them. Then he pulls the fingers out and takes a moment to lube up the device.
The massager is fairly easy to slide into Olly. It’s rounded on the very tip to allow for easier insertion, and once lubed it slides right in. The entire toy disappears into Olly with a slurp as his anus clenches around the toy and drags it in. Such a greedy little mouth, Mr. Mack thinks. This boy’s body seems custom-made for Mr. Mack’s enjoyment.
Mr. Mack presses a button on the control pad. A muffled whirring noise emerges from Oliver’s ass as the toy springs to life. Oliver gasps.
Mr. Mack had turned on each of the toys at home the previous night to make sure they worked and see their movement for themselves. On this one, he knows, the little hemispheres emerge and recede from the surface of the toy, massaging their surroundings like kneading cat’s paws. It’s a gentle pressure, appropriate for something labeled as a ‘massager.’
Olly groans, the first full throaty groan that Mr. Mack has heard from him. It’s thrilling. “That feels... weird,” the boy says.
“Yes, I got some special new toys to use for today,” Mr. Mack tells him. “They might feel a bit strange. I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Does it feel bad?”
There is a pause as Olly hesitates, analyzing the sensation inside him. “No,” he says finally. “It’s just weird.”
“Good.” Mr. Mack reaches out and pats the boy’s bottom companionably. He turns the dial up a notch to increase the speed and force of the massage. Olly lets out another soft huff.
Mr. Mack leaves the massager in for a few minutes, but it’s less satisfying than he’d hoped, since he can’t see the toy itself. Although actually—Mr. Mack abruptly remembers something.
He cranks the dial up another notch before letting the control pad drop, hanging from Oliver’s anus like some sort of obscene tail. Mr. Mack rifles through his box of toys until he comes up with one of the stranger things he’d purchased.
From the outside it looks like a simple plastic tube bent at a right angle, white and perhaps an inch or so in diameter. But at one end is a clear plastic dome, and at the other end the tube is open. On the website it had been labeled as the “pleasure periscope.”
Mr. Mack slips a finger back into Olly’s ass to check it; as he’d hoped, the muscles are rubbery and pliant under the stimulation of the massage. Spreading him open with thumb and forefinger, Mr. Mack slides the domed end of the device into Olly’s slick anus. He pushes the tube in an inch or two until it fetches up against the other toy and then lowers his eye to the open end.
As advertised, a clever arrangement of mirrors and internal lighting within the tube give Mr. Mack a clear vantage of the inside of Olly’s passage. He can watch the toy as it pulses and tantalizes the boy’s inner walls. With a happy sigh Mr. Mack reaches down and gropes for the control panel, turning up the dial one last time to the toy’s highest speed setting.
The balls thrust frantically in and out of the toy’s surface. Mr. Mack wriggles the periscope toy around a bit until he finds the best angle to witness the way they repeatedly push against the boy’s passage. He fancies he can even see the boy’s muscles shivering in response. He can certainly feel the shuddering of the boy’s legs on the outside as he holds onto one soft thigh for leverage.
The boy whimpers, and Mr. Mack thinks maybe it’s time to move on to the next toy. He pulls out first the periscope and then the toy, turning it off first and then yanking it out by the cord a little faster than he’d intended. Oliver lets out a deep sigh as it leaves him.
“How do you feel?” Mr. Mack asks.
“Tingly,” says the boy. “It’s weird. It feels kind of numb.”
He seems to be using the word ‘weird’ a lot, but Mr. Mack doesn’t push for more details. ‘Weird’ is not the same as ‘bad.’ He’s not used to these sensations yet. They’ll have to change that.
The next toy out of the box is a string of large anal beads, powder blue and nearly two inches wide each. They have to be so wide, for they too contain small motors inside that let them vibrate with a buzzing drone once embedded. He lubes them all, even knowing it’s unlikely that they’ll manage to get all ten inside the boy.
Mr. Mack pushes the first ball into Olly’s anus with his thumb. It goes in with an easy little pop, swallowed whole immediately. Rather than wait for the entire string to be inside Olly, Mr. Mack turns the vibration on right away. Unlike the massager, the beads have only one vibration setting: intense.
Olly squeals, and his hips buck suddenly, taking Mr. Mack by surprise. The boy gasps and groans, and begins to shake. Mr. Mack is confused for a second or two before he realizes: by chance, he’s apparently found the boy’s prostate. Mr. Mack licks his lips and looks and—yes! Between his legs, Olly is swiftly growing hard. Mr. Mack is overjoyed. Finally, pleasure for the boy.
“Does that feel good?” Mr. Mack reaches into the boy’s anus with one finger and maneuvers the bead back and forth until the boy’s hips jolt once more. Then he holds the bead down, forcing the vibration against the young gland.
“Huh-” Olly groans. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s weird but... it’s... good... I don’t know... what...” He seems at a loss for words. Mr. Mack grinds the vibrating bead harder against the boy’s prostate, and his aimless words cut off with another squeal.
“I have an idea,” says Mr. Mack. He has the same sort of surreal out-of-body feeling that he had when he first made this deal with Oliver. “Why don’t we turn you over so you can see what I’m doing that’s making you feel so good?”
Oliver doesn’t respond, just continues shaking slightly, so Mr. Mack removes his finger from the boy—easing the vibration—and grabs the boy’s hip and waist to turn him over. Olly’s expression is dazed as it comes into view, uncomprehending. Mr. Mack smiles at him as he settles the boy on his back. He lets go of Olly’s middle and grabs one of the boy’s shins in each hand, pushing them back and up until the boy’s knees are fully bent and his ass is once more on full display.
“Hold your ankles,” Mr. Mack instructs. To his immense satisfaction, Olly barely even hesitates before he reaches out and grabs onto his own legs, allowing Mr. Mack to let go.
Mr. Mack reaches down between the boy’s legs and lifts the string of nine remaining beads into view for Olly. “You see?” he says. “These are what’s making you feel so good. There are ten beads on this string, and we’re going to put them up your butt one by one and see how many will fit.”
“They look really big,” Olly says nervously.
“Oh don’t worry, your ass stretches very nicely to fit them. You already have one of them in you.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to say as- AH!” Olly starts to say, but is cut off as Mr. Mack shoves the second bead into him. He bites his lip; it’s at once adorable and tantalizing.
“You see?” says Mr. Mack again. “There was another one. Slips right in. And another.” He forces the third one in with his thumb. It’s already starting to feel a bit crowded. Unfortunately, Mr. Mack is now fairly certain they won’t be able to fit the whole string inside the boy. A wistful part of him wonders if maybe they could work their way up to it. But he knows that two more days is unlikely to be enough practice to do so.
Mr. Mack reaches a finger back into the boy’s anus and pushes the closest bead up against the spot where he remembers Olly’s prostate being. He’s rewarded by another twitch of Olly’s hips, and a jerk of the boy’s young member as it continues to harden.
“There it is,” Mr. Mack says in a soothing voice. “That’s the part that feels good, right? Sometimes having things inside you can feel very good. That’s why I have this hobby, you know. I like making little boys like you feel good.”
Mr. Mack fantasizes about a day when Olly would beg him for this pleasure. Would plead about how empty his ass feels without Mr. Mack’s toys filling him up. Would drop to his knees and offer his ass, spreading it with his own hands and begging for Mr. Mack to fuck him with something, anything. He imagines demanding payment in the form of the boy’s sweet mouth, forcing the beautiful lips down around his dick with one hand as he finally relents and shoves his entire other hand into the boy’s ass, causing Olly to sigh with relief and pleasure.
Mr. Mack glances up to the boy’s rosy lips and licks his own, then removes his finger and pushes the fourth bead into the boy. It’s harder now; he feels a lot more resistance. There is room for maybe one more. Before attempting it, Mr. Mack replaces the finger and pushes the most recent bead up against the boy’s prostate in pulses.
Oliver whimpers and fidgets beneath him. His fingers clench spasmodically around his ankles, and his legs and hips shudder with pleasure. Mr. Mack pushes against the bead, watches the boy tense. Releases the bead, watches him relax fractionally. Then pushes it again.
It’s still not quite fucking the boy, but every day is a bit better. Mr. Mack removes his finger once more and starts to push in the last bead.
The fifth bead is much harder to get into the boy. There is strong resistance, and Mr. Mack doesn’t want to force it and risk causing the boy pain. Instead he holds the bead against the pucker of the boy’s anus and pushes it in pulsing thrusts, just a little each time. It doesn’t do much at first, but eventually the boy’s hole seems to get the idea and begins to open for him, swallowing fractionally more on each pulse.
With a solid minute of patient work, Mr. Mack’s careful thrusts are eventually rewarded as the widest part of the sphere passes through the ring of muscle and the entire globe disappears with a hiccuping gulp and a twitch into the boy’s passage.
Mr. Mack is tempted to try the periscope once more, but given how hard it was to get that last bead into the boy, he doesn’t want to add any additional strain. There is probably still room for one slim finger though. Mr. Mack resumes his concerted attention to the boy’s prostate, feeling his own finger starting to numb from the vibration as he pulses the bead against the boy.
Olly is very hard now, but Mr. Mack’s not sure if he’ll come. He’s a bit young for that. But then, Mr. Mack would have said he’s a bit young for any of this. Mr. Mack wants to touch it, but something about the way the boy is still watching him makes Mr. Mack hesitate. Touching anything other than the boy’s ass was not part of their deal. He doesn’t want to tip his hand that this is more to him than a mere hobby.
Olly’s face and cock are both flushed with pleasure, and Mr. Mack decides that it’s time to move on. There’s one more thing he wants to try.
The selection of dildoes and vibrators on the websites Mr. Mack visited had been frankly awe-inspiring. Letting the anal beads rest inside Olly for the moment, Mr. Mack removes his finger to go once more rummaging in his box. He finds the one he’s most eager to try fairly quickly. He holds it up so Olly can see.
One of the websites Mr. Mack had found specialized in monstrous and animal-shaped dildoes. He’d found a purple one with scaled ridges and a sharp-looking head made to look like the phallus of some enormous reptile. It’s roughly the size of Mr. Mack’s own penis; he’d chosen the size partly for fantasy value and partly as a sort of pragmatic vanity to make sure the boy could fit as much.
“Here’s what’s going in next,” Mr. Mack announces. When he’s sure Oliver is focused on the toy, he flicks the switch on the base so Oliver can watch the way it contorts and writhes around in a frenzy when turned on. Oliver’s eyes go wide.
“That’s way too big!” he protests.
“Not at all!” Mr. Mack counters. “Just look at how many beads you managed to fit into you!”
He grabs the string of beads and pulls. The spheres slide out of Olly’s ass one by one. Each one that passes fully out of the boy’s rectum causes his anus to twitch slightly, yanking a bit of the string back into him as though trying to play tug-of-war. When it finally releases the last bead with a twitch and a shiver, Mr. Mack turns them off and holds the string up into Olly’s field of view to show him the final tally.
“All of that was inside my butt?” Olly asks with surprise. Mr. Mack doesn’t know if he’s referring to the five obviously-soiled beads, or if he thinks the entire strand of ten was in him, but if it’s the latter it won’t hurt to inflate the boy’s perception of how much they can fit into him.
“It was!” Mr. Mack assures him. “So this one will go in just as smoothly. Just to get a better angle though, why don’t you turn back over for now.”
Oliver lets go of his ankles and flips back onto his knees, burying his face in his crossed arms again. He’s still hard, but so is Mr. Mack—dying with it. That’s the main reason he had Oliver flip back over; he doesn’t want the boy to see him jack off. It’s too bad Oliver won’t be able to see what’s penetrating him like this, but he wouldn’t have seen much of it anyway from the previous angle.
Mr. Mack has a sudden flash mental image of Oliver seated on his lap with both of them facing a mirror, watching together the way Oliver’s hole swallows up the toy. He swallows. He makes a mental note to bring a mirror with him tomorrow.
For now he lubes up the toy generously and sticks a couple of fingers into the boy’s ass, once more presented to him in the air like a silent request to be filled. He massages the boy’s prostate with his fingertips and watches Olly squirm for a moment before spreading him to receive the toy.
The pointed end of the dildo’s head makes getting it into him simple. Mr. Mack takes out his fingers once he has the toy lined up, and starts to thrust. At first he thrusts only the head in and out, in and out. The toy makes the beautiful squelching sound that Mr. Mack loves as it slides in and out of the boy’s well-abused hole. Someday soon, Mr. Mack promises himself, the mess of fluids in the boy will contain his own semen. Soon.
He begins to deepen the thrusts slightly. First only the head in and out at each thrust, then a slightly sharper shove and two inches of the thing slides into him again and again and again. Then another shove. Three inches pounding his hole at each repetition. Another deep thrust to four inches, pulling out all the way to the head before thrusting in again. Deep thrusts as more than half the toy goes into and out of him each time.
Finally, Mr. Mack shoves the last few inches into the boy and leaves the toy seated, the base nestled between the boy’s cheeks. He grabs a buttock in each hand and spreads them so he can more closely see the penetrated flesh of Oliver’s anus. It’s a stunning sight to behold. As usual, the twitching ring of muscle grasps at the toy as though chewing on it, feeling its way around the new intruder.
Mr. Mack flips the switch on the base.
Olly yelps as the toy begins its wild gyrations inside of him. Mr. Mack holds the base steady with one hand so the toy can get better leverage. It wriggles and spasms and thrusts into him, and Olly writhes beneath it, fidgeting and twitching uncontrollably. Again, Mr. Mack wishes he could use the periscope tool to see what’s happening inside the boy, but there would be no way to keep it steady around the wild motions of the toy. Instead he must rely on his vivid memory of the toy’s motions and the look on Olly’s face when Mr. Mack had first turned the thing on.
Mr. Mack leaves the toy to its frantic dance and steps back to attend to himself. He watches as Olly groans and squirms, and takes himself in hand, pumping his own cock swiftly. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life; he’s pretty sure this won’t take long.
Sure enough, mere minutes later Mr. Mack is coming into his hand. He waits to catch his breath, in no hurry to remove the toy from Oliver’s ass. In fact he takes the time to clean himself up. Smiling, he even leaves the room for a moment to take the used toys into the bathroom and wash them in the sink, leaving Oliver to the vibrator’s ministrations.
He’s pretty sure Oliver doesn’t even notice him leave. When he finally returns, Mr. Mack reaches between the boy’s rosy cheeks and flicks the switch on the toy off. Oliver’s entire body sags with relief. The boy is still quite hard though, and Mr. Mack’s not sure what to do about it. He doesn’t think he can get away with any more this afternoon; today took more time than before, and they’d already gotten a late start. Well, perhaps for today the boy will simply have to handle it on his own.
Mr. Mack takes a firm hold of the toy’s base and pulls it out with agonizing slowness. The boy’s hole relinquishes it with clear reluctance. When the toy finally plops out, the distended orifice leaks and burbles. Mr. Mack grabs some more tissues to clean it up. Olly’s knees have ceased to hold him up and he sags against the desk, catching his own breath.
“Well, that’s it for today,” Mr. Mack says cheerfully. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a great sport.”
When Oliver finally manages to compose himself, he slides off the desk with clear discomfort. Once again, Mr. Mack has left him well-fucked. But there doesn’t seem to be the same sort of inwardness to his posture as before, although he still won’t meet Mr. Mack’s eyes. His face is heavily flushed. He seems... Mr. Mack tries to put his finger on it as the boy puts his pants back on. He seems more embarrassed this time around, rather than ashamed.
As Oliver finishes putting on his pants and turns around, Mr. Mack can clearly see the small outline of the boy’s stiffy. Mostly because he knows to look for it, but still. Mr. Mack is incredibly pleased with himself. He walks the boy back to the entrance.
“See you tomorrow Oliver!” he says with a smile. Oliver nods, squeezing his crotch self-consciously with one hand before heading out the door.