Sample: A Touch of Magic: A Toy Chest Tale

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Riley stretched, blinking against the sunlight falling on his bed in thin slats from the venetian blinds. From the first extension of his body, something felt different. Not bad, he thought, just different. It was as if his whole center of gravity were shifted, making him feel a little longer than his five-and-a-half feet. He kicked the covers down and stared down at his body, still dressed in a plain white tee and orange athletic shorts from the night before. His legs were slimmer, he thought, shapely in a way he did not associate with himself. And yet, rubbing them together, noting their smoothness only as a point of pleasure, he felt a rightness in the litheness of his body. He was an athlete after all, and this hum of energy that coursed through him must certainly be part of that.

He slid out of bed and into the bathroom, meeting the gaze of the face in the mirror. His cheeks seemed fuller, chubbier, and he would need a haircut soon. The blond curls were shaggy and, he would have sworn it, longer and fuller. He slid off his tee and let the shorts slip down his hairless legs until he was nude. Looking back at his bare, smooth chest, Riley found himself against circling his nipples with his hands, a soft itch having settled there made better by the slight pressure he applied. Though he felt wonderful, better than he had on waking in some time, there was nagging worry that accompanied his inspection of himself. Something about the smoothness of his body, and its roundness. It looked as if he had aged backward somehow, he thought, softening his shape as it had been in his pre-teen years.

Under the hot water of the shower, the randiness of the night before rushed back, and Riley found himself stroking his insistent erection with a soapy hand, the silky slide of his hand along the length drawing a sigh and a bite of the lip. He pressed a palm to the shower wall as the well of pleasure grew higher, ready to overspill its boundaries.

He tossed back his head and cried out, a mewling sound that made the hair on his arms stand up even in the heat of the shower. It was a lusty, wanton noise that had issued from him. When he examined himself after the climax overflowed its banks and left him feeling drifty and pleased, he realized he had produced no cum, and his erection was already withering away. The orgasm had been a whole-body, center-focused experience unlike any orgasm of his young life. The sensual aftershocks it left behind, though, made him consider the possibility that it may be a better orgasm than any he had known before.

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