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 Presents

 

 A Greek Macrophilia Story - by Petronius Filatio

Very loosely translated under the pseudonym of

Mickey (Daddy) Ray

 

WARNING:

This story does contain some violence and gory scenes!

 

Mickey (Daddy) Ray

***A reminder that "My Boy Toy" is copyrighted and is the exclusive property of Mickey Ray, AKA "Daddy", of Artistic Affairs in Binghamton, NY. The author may be contacted by email at daddyshere@gmail.com.  "My Boy Toy" may not be used, edited or altered, directly or indirectly, in part or in whole, for any commercial purposes without express permission from the author.

 The content is adult, sexual reading material which is primarily homoerotic in nature, contains particular sexual fetishes and is meant for entertainment purposes only. The author takes no responsibility for illegal accessing of this material to minors. All characters are fictional and any similarities of names or personalities with real persons are purely coincidental. Today, things being what they are, the author neither approves nor condones unsafe sex. ~ Daddy

m. ray

Chapter One

    My name is Maximillian Van Order. I know you aren't going to believe what I'm telling you, but it's the truth, every blessed word of it. Mine is a story of mystery, magic, sweet revenge and wild sex. Lots and lots of wild, crazy, incredible sex! And the magic…well that's even more incredible!

 

If you're lucky enough to survive, you will one day, like myself, reach those “senior“ years. Now I'm speaking about fifty-nine-plus years specifically. We all know that adolescents believe their thirty-plus parents are old, so I'm not going by the generational, twenty year variance as my measuring tool, but rather those years that society has, in general, labeled “senior citizen, “golden, or the “retirement years.

 

It's not until you're there that you totally understand that life is hardly over and that you are still sexually vital and, as in my case, if you've taken reasonable care of your body, your stamina is still strong and your cravings even stronger.

 

Unlike the Greeks of old who revered their senior population, today's, younger generation at best ignores us and at worst outwardly condemns us for using the same oxygen from their personal, blue planet.

 

One such character is my neighbor, Douglas. He's the son of one of my former students. (I'm a recently, retired college professor, albeit a local community college.) Unlike his father, who was a shy, selfless, giving young student who volunteered his time to a multitude of after school events and local charity drives, Douglas had no time for anything but to those things which made him the big man on campus, the superstar that everyone had to take notice of. Even his studies of Greco/Roman history and poetry were designed to impress the ladies, and although he outwardly professed his heterosexuality, I was certain that he enjoyed baiting and teasing any man he thought might be gay.

 

Of course I can't deny the boy is handsome. Correct me, he is more likely compared to being pretty. A combination of Eros and Aphrodite, with ivory skin and hair as black as night. His bedroom eyes were large, and expressively surrounded by long ebony lashes that gave great focus to the deep chocolate color of his pupils. His mouth was fleshy and naturally pink and inviting. His grin was infectious and disarming. He sported a trimmed beard and moustache that accentuated his angular features. His casual grin gave him a look of impish boyhood that belied his true, self-centered and cunning nature.

 

 

 

Over the years I watched this young boy growing into manhood. I was Ameinias to his Narcissus, ready to die in the misery of longing for even a brief touch, a soft word...the smallest attention. I found I had deeply and painfully fallen in love with the young man. I made it a point in fact, during his freshman year in college, to become his Orpheus, his poet mentor, in my vain attempts at gentle seduction.

 

You might have guessed and correctly, that I made myself available to my beautiful, young neighbor in helping him with his Greek studies. He spent hours at my home on Sundays and we'd go over his assignments and I'd listen to his hallow attempts at translations of Aristophanes, Homer, Varos Dimitrios and Strabo.

 

He was an admirable poet in his own right, but simply did not have the patience to appreciate the nuance of translation, and so he set out to deftly maneuver me into supplying the translations he needed. I willingly complied just for the reward of his delighted smile of appreciation.

 

My other misfortune was that he was not unwise to subtle come-ons, and when I wrote him a poem which suggested a most tender dalliance between a young Greek lad and his teacher, he laughed at me. I had never before seen this side of him. He spoke loudly and curtly, calling me a pathetic, prehistoric relic. He said he had suspicions about me, but now that he was certain, he said he found me sadly wanting and there was no way I would ever be so fortunate as to even touch him, much less bed him.

 

He stormed out of my home that afternoon, but not before telling me that I would have to continue translating all of his lessons from now on, or he would show everyone my not too discrete poem, and he would further elaborate on how I attempted to physically seduce him. Although I hadn't, I had no doubt he could easily persuade others that I had.

 

I stood shocked and paled in his wake that afternoon. What was I to do? I was only too recently left a widower, my wife having passed away nearly two years ago. No one in our town had any idea of my “other” desires and I just wasn't ready to let the world know about them now.

 

I frantically paced about my home and found myself trying to ease my stress in the comfort of my den in which I had proudly displayed many art pieces and artifacts of ancient Greece that my family and I bought over the past three generations.

 

An alabaster slab with the likeness of Zeus came into my line of site, and half in jest and but with full emotion, I called to the slab of cold stone. “Zeus, you were always so good at finding the perfect way of getting revenge. Find a way for me! That conceited shit-head thinks he's big. He deserves to be put down a peg or two. If I had my way, I'd show him he wasn't so big.”

 

A sudden wave of nausea swept over me! The room began to distort and everything in it starting disappearing into a blinding ball of light. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, but the light still hurt. A nearly deafening tinnitus invaded my head when, just as suddenly, the brightness and the sound shut themselves off.

 

I blinked, and cautiously open my eyes and looked around the room. Everything looked the same and undisturbed…except…except…

 

In the glass case where I kept my ring displays, one of the rings had a distinct teal aura pulsating from it. I walked over to it quite gingerly, testing my every step as though the floor beneath me might suddenly melt and the next step would see me falling through some time portal from which I could never return.

 

I tilted my head to the side as I studied the ring in the glass case. I was excited and horribly frightened at the same time. Something most unusual was going on and I wasn't sure what to do, or even think about it.

 

I set my right hand on top of the glass case, directly over the extraordinarily minute, nearly neon, light that surround the ancient ring within. The moment my hand landed flat against the glass, that teal light rose up snake-like, in a milky gas…right through the top of the glass case, and  it weaved about my hand; in and out and between my fingers and the glass below.

 

Of course I immediately tried to move my hand away, but it was totally imprisoned within the vise like grip of that small cloud of light. I stared wild-eyed as I saw the ring, that was once inside the glass, suddenly appear on the small finger of my right hand.

 

The moment the ring was solidly in place on my finger, the smoke, the light, all of it, reversed their weave and whooshed their way inside the ring, like the fabled genie in the lamp, and my hand was once again mobile and freed from its former captivity.  I stared at my adorned hand in disbelief. How? What? Where? I had a million questions running through my head and not one single, rational answer.

 

I looked over at the icon of Zeus whose aspect appeared to have a most definite imperious and satisfied grin! Back and forth, my eyes traveled from the carving of the mischievous God to the ring on my finger. Could it be? Could it?

 

Okay, just for the moment, I told myself, suspend your disbelief. If this were some sort of Greek legend, why would Zeus put this ring on my finger and what would be its purpose? What had I said earlier? Something to the effect that I would show Douglas he wasn't so big?

 

Yes, that was it. So now what? The most logical thing that came to my mind was that the ring might make him small. Really small, I hoped! So how to know if I were right. I shook my head at my own incredible behavior. What was I doing? Why was I even entertaining such ridiculous considerations?

 

Stop being rational, I told myself. Just for a minute. Don't think. Just suppose….just maybe… Oh fuck it! Go for it!

 

I look around the room and I saw a large wooden bowl that I kept fruit in. I walked over to it and stared at it. I suddenly had a memory of a movie made back around 1939 about a guy who the Gods gave their powers too, and in this one scene, before he realized he'd been blessed with special powers, he's in a pub and talking with his pals. He tells them if one had magical powers, one could levitate anything. For instance, all he'd have to do is look at that lamp, up there on the ceiling, and say, “Lamp, turn!", and the lamp would turn as commanded. Incredibly, when he does tell it to turn, the lamp swirls 180 degrees; hanging upside down before the entire barroom. Shocked, he is so stunned, he loses his concentration and the lamp falls, to the surprise of everyone in the pub.

 

Thinking about that event, I looked at that wooden bowl, pointed at it, and with firm conviction I commanded it to shrink.

 

Nothing happened.

 

I said again and several times more using various inflections and even commanded it in Greek. Still, nothing happened. I felt like a damn fool.

 

As though berating a disobedient child, I picked up the bowl between my hands and said, “When I say to grow small, you grow small, dammit!

 

I felt the wooden bowl vibrate between my fingers as it proportionately began to shrink down. I stood, my mouth agape as I watched, incredulously, what was in fact happening right before my own eyes!

 

“Stop! Stop” I croaked when it was hardly bigger than a thimble between my right thumb and forefinger.

 

Without even thinking I commanded it to go back to what it was and within seconds it returned perfectly, to its former size as though nothing had occurred just a moment ago.

 

Touch! I have to touch it!

 

The rest of that night and half way to morning I ran around the house shrinking and growing things. I found that although the ring was on my right hand, I could use either or both hands to alter things. My poor Yorkshire Terrier, Onasis, eventually ran and hid from me after I'd alter him from the size of a cockroach to that of a Shetland pony.

 

Oh yes, I'd even done some self-experimentation; making myself taller and hitting my head rather badly on the twelve foot ceiling, to limiting the growth to specific body parts. If I could touch it, I could alter it, without pain or any noticeable side effects. While I grew, my skeleton, heart, lungs, all other organs and the skin around my body stretched to accommodate the change. Another great side effect, the stretching also made the years in my face melt away. I decided to maintain a very admirable height of six feet, two inches. That was eight inches more than my normal height. My weight grew exponentially proportionate to my height so I was looking very good, if I say so myself!

 

I certainly enjoyed sporting my new, ten inch cock and, exhausted from my busy night, I laid in my bed admiring it and I grinned at the thought of who was going to be the first one after this day to get every bit it! Whether he liked it or not.

 

 Chapter Two

    Two weeks had gone by and incredibly, people accepted my new appearance with less concern than I had feared. The majority of my friends thought my retirement had done wonders for me, and that they were happy for me that I'd obviously come to terms with the loss of my wife and was getting on well in life. A couple of my racket ball buddies were obviously stumped at my gain in height, but they had to assume they had always been wrong when they thought me shorter. After all, adult men don't suddenly grow four inches. That's just not logical.

 

Of course, Douglas was too self absorbed to notice anything. He had happily come by and received the first payment of his extortion in the form of translated works of Sappho, as well as an original poem that he would take credit as something he had created himself. I handed the papers to him with great flourish and genuine delight, which he reacted to rather warmly, without the slightest hint of curiosity as to my unnatural mood, considering how he was using coercion to get these assignments.

 

I couldn't help but notice he wore extraordinarily tight denims that hid very little of what was beneath them, and he blatantly rubbed his crotch into an erection as we talked. Now that he was confident he had me where he wanted, he exercised his new power by taunting me with his sensuality. He pretended idle chatter and giving me knowing winks when he told me how it was impossible for him to get a decent blow-job from these preppy college co-eds, and the ones who would do it, didn't have the slightest idea how to please a guy.

 

“Man, I am so horny to cum, I can't stand it,” he said as soon as he had rubbed his cock into a full sized, nearly eye popping erection. I'm sure my mouth involuntarily watered. Then, “Well, I'll see ya! Same time, next week, Professor Max,” and he went out the door. Oh, I was so tempted to....

 

But, I wanted to be certain I had him totally convinced that I would obey his demands and keep producing the work he wanted. The school year was nearly over, and I had to get him here for one more visit which would have nothing to do with his assignments, and in doing so, I had to make sure he would never suspect me of anything sinister.

 

I'd been very busy creating and building a two walled construct in my basement, using my the other walls to complete my project. This would soon be my “Little Douglas' Room”. His whole, new world, actually, for as long as I wished it to be.

 

The newly divided section was eight square feet, mostly for my own comfort and maneuverability. Within that room, I constructed a three by three by three foot wooden cell. I painted the walls in a quiet, soft green and it was fully carpeted. I sawed cutouts where a tiny door and several little windows would be installed. When the basic structure was completed, there was still one other step which would need completed by someone more capable than I.

 

I had asked Theo, a Greek friend of mine and an electrician, to help me wire the “little“ room as though I were building my granddaughter a full size doll house. I told him I wanted all the tiny lamps and other appliances to work.

 

Theo, a very handsome, married man I met last year through an online dating service, was happy to help, and was equally happy to enjoy some man to man entertainment afterwards. He was hirsute and muscular, and like myself, versatile in the ways of man to man love. He could take as good as he received and we both  wore ourselves nearly to exhaustion.

 

As much as I cared for Theo and trusted him, I wasn't about to let anyone know about my ring or the powers that it gave me. At least, not yet. My thoughts did travel, however, to several other men whom I considered I might just let in on my little surprise.

 

Now Little Douglas' Room had its own tiny outlets that plugged into the electric source of the greater room outside, which was, of course, the basement.

 

I Super-Glued several Plexiglas windows at the cutout sections and sealed the fourteen inch door gap with a steel plate.

 

I had some shelving, which I cleared of old materials I no longer needed, an old army cot and a wooden chair, all of which I'd shrunk down to fit perfectly in the little room. I went to a discount furniture store and bought an office chair and one of those computer desks that you put together yourself. Then I place my older, spare computer on the desk, along with the monitor and printer. Zap, they were cut down to easily accommodate someone who just might happen to be ten inches tall.

 

Of course I had to find out how well all this amazing magic would work with modern technology. I plugged in the cord to the surge protector which held all the plugs for the computer, monitor, router and printer. I waited a few minutes and held my breath as I poked the computer and the monitor power buttons with the head of a pencil eraser. Amazingly, the screen lit up and the everything seemed to work perfectly. Using the point of the pencil, I opened a document software and managed to type out a few lines. I didn't care if I got the nearly impossible letters to read correctly, I just wanted to check out the printer. Within seconds, the printer spit out the tiny sheets of paper with the typing on it. With a magnifying glass, I checked it out. Perfect.

 

The computer was connected to my network, so I would have full control of any activities that were performed on it. I had sharing access to all the software and folders, and of course I could bring up any of it on my own computer then copy and paste any documents to the size font I could more easily read.

 

I can't explain how it all managed to work any more than I can explain the complicated physiology of making cellular structures, dead or alive alter without scientific complications. It's magic. It just worked. And at this point, I stopped trying to figure it out and began accepting my new gift as a part of me that I would use to many purposes, but primarily, to teach one young, nasty boy a lesson he would never forget.

 

When the room was complete, I set a pre-shrunken vacuum cleaner and dust feather along side the shelves. For the final touch, I place small video cameras at various, strategic locations. Then I constructed a clear Plexiglas lid that had a dozen, one inch circular air holes drilled into it. It very neatly hinged and locked in place, quite satisfactorily sealing in anything I happen to put within it. Now it was time to get that something special inside it!

 

 

Chapter Three

     I could barely contain my exuberance when the day finally arrived when all my plans would be set into motion. Doug graduated and would begin his sophomore year after the summer break. I grinned at what a summer this would be for my little man.

During the last few weeks he had hinted at how much he badly needed to get away from his nagging grandparents that he lived with. His own parents were long divorced and separated, leaving him with a large trust and in the care of his mother's cold and aloof parents. While he had more than enough money to travel anywhere he wanted, he thought it would be in my best interest if I financially supported his travels to Europe.

 

There was no way I was going to do that, but on the pretense that I would have ten thousand dollars in Traveler's Checks for him on the day he was to leave for the airport, I now merely waited in painful anticipation for my doorbell to ring.

 

That familiar sound was like a new symphony to me. I practically ran to the door and had to settle myself down by the time I opened it to the handsome, greedy, little shit that greeted me on the other side with a smug, self-satisfied grin and waving an envelope which I assumed where his flight tickets.

 

He walked in, or should I say he strutted in, self-assured and cocky, as well as excited and in good spirits about his upcoming adventures. He had no idea of what was about to happen.

 

“Come in,” I said as he passed me, lightly tapping the envelope at my head.

 

“My tickets, Professor Max,” he turned and smiled that heart melting smile of his. “I'm on my way to a new and exciting time in my life!”

 

“Indeed you are, Doug,” I volunteered.

 

“Got my checks?” he asked.

 

“Right in my office, at my desk. Shall we have a toast and celebrate your freedom from academia as we retrieve your financial boon?” I said as I walked ahead into my office, not waiting for his reply. He dutifully followed.

 

“Sure. Why not? I'm really glad you're being a good sport about this, Max,” he happily babbled behind me.

 

My eyes nearly crossed in anger at hearing him use my name so familiarly. Still, I maintained calmness. He would be my Achilles of Troy and I his Odysseus of Greece. Beware of Greeks baring gifts, my boy. But then, you never would really learn Greek history, mythological or otherwise.

 

I kept my office in good order with everything in its place. I like order. The only exception was the small area I kept an exercise bike, a bench and some weights I used regularly, to keep my heart rate and blood pressure in good health, and to keep most of the weight down. I'd left a few towels about, and some dirty socks and jock strap I'd discarded and just hadn't put in the laundry as yet.

 

I went to the small bar on the opposite end of the room and asked him, “What's you poison, kiddo?”

 

“Chivas and water would be cool.” He said.

 

Chivas, cool…, I thought. Soon, so very soon, and I poured our cool drinks. I handed him his and went to the desk. I picked up an envelope stuffed with torn, typing paper, the approximate size of travelers checks. “Your money.”

 

He sipped his drink and set it on my office desk. He then walked over to me his hand stretched out to accept the envelope.

 

I held it back. “Ah, ah, ah! I have a surprise for you.”

 

He looked at me with a doubtful wince. “Surprise?”

 

“Twice as much money, if you are willing to earn it!” I told him.

 

“Earn it? How?” he asked, with a mischievous grin of knowing.

 

“Nothing like that, I assure you. No touching, just looking and testing your stamina,” I added, “and maybe your strength of will, too.”

 

“Okay, what's the deal?” He asked suspiciously, but not being nearly suspicious enough.

 

“Next to my weight bench are two dumbbells. Each one weighs twenty-five pounds. You lie on the floor and when I say go, you hold them at your side, parallel to your body, wrists down, and begin to raise them up. Each time you raise them up, bringing them all the way in back of your head and then return them down to their original position, I'll add five hundred dollars in Traveler's Checks to your bounty. Ten lifts and you get five thousand dollars! However…”

 

“Ah! I knew there had to be some catch.” He said.

 

“No, no. I said no touching. But it is a test of concentration and will power, you must complete ten full lifts, up and back again. Understood?”

 

“That's it? Lift those little guys up and back from a lying position ten times? Hah! Easy money! A gift!”

 

“There is one more thing. I did say it was a test of concentration and will power. I will be kneeling at your head jacking my cock off over your face.”

 

“Oh, shit, I knew there was some faggoty thing you were going to pull! Bull shit”

 

 I held my hand up. “No touching I said. My cock or my balls won't touch any part of you,” I promised, “At most, my knees may press against your shoulders to keep my balance.

 

I continued on, seeing his resolve weakening. “You just have to see if you can concentrate on what you're doing and win that money. Or, Douglas, I find out that you have not been totally honest about your sexuality and that I can distract you from your prize merely by beating my cock in front of you. The quicker you lift the weights, the sooner the test will end. If you're not gay, seeing me whacking off shouldn't make any difference to you at all!

 

“Like I said, 'Easy money', a gift!”

 

He stood silent for a moment, went over to the desk and picked up his drink. He turned and looked at me with his drink and winked, “Cheers!” He drank it down and got down on the carpeted floor of my office. “Hand me those little puppies.”

 

I walked over to the dumbbells which were engrave with the legend 25 lbs. on them. In preparation of this moment, I had mentally added 10 extra pounds to each of them.

 

He took them and as I expected examined them. “Yeah, twenty-five. Cute little buggers, ain't they?” He set them on the floor in position for the first lift.

 

“Wait,” I said. “I have to be in position first.” I took off my shoes, shirt and pants, got down on the floor and knelt over him in my briefs. My knees were on each side of his head and quite imperceptivity brushed the top of his shoulders. I reached in the opening of my brief and pulled out my ten inch cock which had already begun to react to this torrid fantasy. My balls followed and hung heavily just above the bridge of his nose, but not touching any part of him.

 

“Jesus, Max, who'd of thought the old professor had a horse dick?” He chided.

 

“Oh, this is nothing, Douglas. I'm not even hard yet.” He was in for quite a visual surprise, among other things!

 

“Yeah, right. Like I care. Let's get this show on the road. I got a plane to catch in three hours.”

 

“Very well, my impatient pupil,” I said as I started pulling on my cock, “Go!”

 

He raised his arms up with the weights tightly grasped in his hands. “Up and …back and …up and down. One! That's five hundred!”

 

“That's right, Douglas, five hundred, but nothing if you don't finish,” I reminded him and my cock stiffened as I added another inch to its length, and with my knees touching his shoulders, I began a slow deliberate shifting of his body weight and size. Making sure his shoulders never lost contact with my touch, he was getting smaller and smaller with every lift.

 

“Two,” he said, then “Three!”

 

My cock now loomed over him a good twelve inches going on thirteen. I no longer needed to stretch my cock, as he was beginning to visibly become smaller. So busy in his task, he had no idea he was changing, only that the weights had seem to be getting heavier and heavier with each lift.

 

I kept beating my cock and I could feel the heat of a climax fast approaching.

 

“Four …uh, ….five …,” he was panting heavily and I had to move my knees in to accommodate his size change. “Christ, this is getting heavy and …damn how fucking big is your cock? S-s-six…, wait, what the fuck is going on?”

 

The dumbbells were now far too big for his smaller hands to grasp and he could barely lift them.

 

“What the fuck is happening?” He looked back at me and all his small face could see was my looming balls. He was now about three feet tall and I was about to bath him in cum!

 

“I am your Trojan horse, my Achilles, and here is my gift to you!

 

He began to shrink at a greater rate, disappearing into the jogging suit he wore. I looked down at his beautiful, shrinking face and felt the first rush of my cum erupt upwards and out of the head of my cock and onto the small man who was becoming even smaller as I showered my cum on his handsome face. He raise his arms trying to stop the rain of jism, but it was a useless effort.

 

I came again and again and dumped all of it on him. When I stopped cumming I stopped his shrinking. He was now about eight inches tall, but lying prone, most of him was covered in an abundance of cloth and cum.

 

“What? What  have you done to me? He coughed through the cum that inevitably filled his open mouth. He uselessly tried to wipe his face, but his hands and arms were no less covered in my spunk.

 

“It's all for you, my little, big man, I leaned down to him. “And that's only the beginning! You and I are going to have lots of fun together! I said as I took my fingers and lifted him from under the pile of his now oversized clothing. I stood him up, but he dropped back down again, weak from shock and too stunned to really fathom what had happened just now. His jet black hair was plastered to his head by the wet cum that still dripped from him. He sat with his legs outstretched and helpless as I rose to my full height above him. I bent to remove the dumbbells and as I came back up, one had slipped from my hand and fell down. It landed directly on top of my little man and completely smashed him!

 

I stood absolutely rock still staring wide-eyed and agape at what I had done. I fell to my knees and hesitantly reached for the weight that lie on top of Douglas, fearing what I would see.

 

When I lifted the weight, there was nothing there! I looked at the rounded bottom of the weight that landed on the boy, and there he was; some cartoonish version of Douglas flattened, spread out like gum on the sole of a shoe. I took my other hand and literally peeled his body from the killing dumbbell.

 

What had I done? How was this possible? I sat the incredible figure that once was a beautiful young man down on the carpet and stared at him. I felt the tears building and all I could see in my mind, was the boy as he was before the weight fell on him; naked, tiny, adorable, fragile and alive.

 

And after I wiped the moisture from my eyes, that is exactly what I was looking at. A naked, tiny, adorable, fragile, and living boy sitting there as he had been just before the weight came crashing down upon him. He looked up at the giant before him with confusion and fear.

 

I began to laugh loudly with relief as Douglas covered his small ears from my booming voice and held his head down. Certainly far more shocked and confused than I was.

 

I had to think. What was I going to do? It was real, but yet it wasn't. My mind was creating and setting all my limitations and boundaries, or expanding them as I saw fit. It was like a living dream. Or was it a dream? Is it a dream? How do you prove to yourself in your dream that you are awake. When you do wake, or believe you have woken, you recall how very real the dream was, but only when you consider, in recall, how fantastic the occurrences of that “dream“ were, you realize you were dreaming. But what if you aren't awake yet and only dream that you woke, thinking you just woke from a dream? I moaned in frustration.

 

Okay, first, let's get him somewhere safe and out of the way, I told myself. I carefully picked him up in my hand and carried him to the basement. By the time I'd gotten there he's passed out.

 

I quickly put my little man down into his box and onto his cot, sealed it shut and ran to the bathroom, stripped myself of my underwear and socks and stepped into the tub. Closing the curtain around myself, my hand went to the faucet and turned on the cold water and let it run. Counting to ten, I reached for the small lever that allowed the water to go from faucet to showerhead. Pull! I was suddenly blasted in a painful beating jet of artic water. That first spray stung and shocked my body. I stood gritting my teeth and holding on to the nearby safety bar as the glacial spray pummeled me. Grabbing the soap, I scrubbed myself in the icy downpour, feeling every cell of my skin pucker into tiny goose bumps and turn a light tint of blue from the unrelenting, frigid torrent of self abuse I was enduring.

 

As I rinsed the soap from my body, I slapped my face. I repeated it twice in rapid succession and then called myself an idiot for slapping myself!

 

If this was a dream, I'd never felt anything so real as the convulsive shivering that racked my body when I turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. My teeth chattered, and I warned myself I had better get warm again. And just like that, the coldness was gone. I felt perfectly fine. No goose bumps, no shivering, no teeth gnashing, just a calm, comfortable warmth. My body temperature was normal.

 

I looked up and noticed my face in the reflection of the mirror. I stepped closer and stared at the clean shaven man looking back at me. Without taking my eyes away,  I leaned into the mirror and I tried to imagine myself with a moustache. And as I did, I watched the hairs start to sprout out from under my nose and around my upper lip. I watched them gather and take on the shape my imagination dictated. It was amazing! A little more here, a little less there, mix the colors, some red, dark browns, I was both the painter and sculptor of my own face.

 

Okay, while we're at it, let's get rid of those depressing bags below my eyes that the years have seen fit to chisel and erode into my current countenance. Instead of valleys of depression making up those mouth lines, they now filled in to become gentle dips that gave character rather than exposed condemned aging.

 

And, as long as I was sprouting hair…!

 

No! Stop! Easy does it. Let's leave yourself recognizable to those who do know you, I told myself. And so my receding hair would keep, and I set the moustache back to a starting growth, along with a measure of beard to match. At least I would already know how they would look when they were complete and best of all, I not only could hasten the growth, but I would never again have to touch a razor to my face!

 

What next? I'd already did the obvious in expanding my cock size and I admired its long, heavy pendulant swing as I moved about.

 

Appendix scar? Gone! Pubic hairs? Neatly trimmed in delicate but sensual topiary. Fingernails, toenails¾given a most professional manicure and pedicure. And best of all…magical liposuction! I could never get rid of that indulgent little excess that settled itself around my middle, but with just a wisp of thought, away it went.

 

Anything was possible! I was creating my own reality. I could barely ponder the possibilities there were so many. I'd have had an easier chance at saying exactly how many people named Smith live on the planet than contemplate the numerous opportunities this magic allowed me. But little by little the incomprehensible became more manageable. I had all the time in the world to do whatever came to mind. No need to panic or rush. The boy was flattened like a pancake, but at the mere thought, at the memory of his former existence, he returned to that living image. He was invincible, but totally within my realm of power and reality.

 

Now THAT was something! I didn't know if I could do the same for myself, and I wasn't about to flatten myself to find out, but it did present some very intriguing possibilities of things I could enjoy with my new boy toy!

 

Still naked, I returned to the basement and my little man. He was awake. He was crouched, kneeling at his cot as if in prayer. How beautiful he looked. A living, porcelain doll, looking none worse for the wear after having been rained in cum then flattened and peeled from the dumbbell I'd accidentally dropped on him.

 

“Douglas. I said softly, so not to frighten him any more than he was already.

 

He looked up at me with tremendous awe and fear, but said nothing. He sat on his rear and backed away into a corner of his little room. He curled his knees to his chest, wrapped his little arms around his legs and looked away from me.

 

I put in a speaker system so, when he spoke within his box, I could hear him in almost a normal tone outside the box. He obviously had nothing to say. What could one say under the circumstances?

 

While I felt sorry for him, I couldn't resist touching him. I had to hold my eternal living doll, my little boy toy!

 

I opened the lid and reached down inside. He instinctively raised his arms for protection, but there was little he could do.

 

I carried him over and sat in a lounge chair in my basement. I lifted him up and held him gently within my fist from his waist down. I brought him very close to my face and blew a breath at his hair. It was still moist and sticky from my cum, as was his face and much of his upper body. I stuck out my tongue and began to lick his body, his arms and his face, cleaning him as a mother dog would her new born puppy. I lapped at him, front and back, through all his twists and feints to avoid my attentions to him.

 

I held his upper body with my thumb and first three fingers of my other hand as I opened my fist and began the cleaning ritual on his lower half. Using my tongue, I pressed his tiny body against my palm and licked his stomach, his legs and of course, his genitals. It was the first time I'd seen them. Even at this proportion, they looked exciting and delicious, so I gave them a good bath as well. Against his will, I'm sure, he became fully erect under my administrations to his cock. It was adorable to see that tiny thing bouncing about in turgid excitement.

 

I had to taste him. I lifted his little feet to my mouth and began to slide him onto my tongue until nearly every part of him was within my mouth. I closed my lips around him, holding his exposed head, chest and arms between my fingers as I sucked on the rest of him. I closed my eyes and felt him within my mouth. My tongue swirled around, moving his legs and torso up against the sensitive roof of my mouth. The more I tasted him, the more rapture I felt. My cock hardened with excitement. I kept  swirling him around as much as I could, trying to avoid biting him, when I realized that if I did bite him, it wouldn't matter, I could fix him again.

 

I began to eat him! I bit down and severed his torso. I felt the squirt of warm, sweet liquid burst onto my tongue and pushing the remaining, upper half of him between my lips and into my mouth I couldn't help but see the complete shock upon his face. His little arms waved frantically as they disappeared between my lips.

 

I began to totally taste my little man. I tossed him around in my mouth like a French delicacy, pressing and squeezing him between my tongue and pallet so to savor every sweet, salty and tender part of him. and before I knew it I was chewing him, grinding him between my molars, tasting the smaller bits of his crunchy bones, saccharin flesh and chewy sinew that mixed with my own saliva. My mind swirled with delight, and my erection both grew and thickened with purpose.

 

My cock whipped about as the head enflamed a deep purple. When the last morsel slid down my throat, I came once again. Without touching myself, I shot another load of cum. It sprayed out, up and warmly splattered down over my chest and stomach as I lay back in my chair, savoring the remaining after-taste of my little man! Ah! Douglas, you are so delicious!

 

Now I would have to wait until my body was ready to give up my boy. Instead of allowing natural chemistry to disperse  my boy toy into a multitude of elements with only the worst and unnecessary ones to become waste product, I used my mind to reassemble him into going right down into my lower intestines and to come out with the rest of my shit.

 

I mentally hastened the process and so, an hour later, sitting on my toilet and contemplating Douglas most humiliating egress, I began to feel his inevitable exodus. Mixed within a most pleasurable turd, Douglas squeezed out of my rectum and floated about in my toilet, quite in tact, if not smelling his best. Both he and the turd measured a mere six inches.

 

Before wiping myself and burying him in a mass of toilet paper, I picked him from the bowl and brought him over to the sink I'd already filled with warm soapy water and let him soak there while I finished my own personal ablutions. After cleaning myself I went back to him and began to gently bathe him. Cleaned of any remaining feces and odor, I drained the dirty water from the sink, picked him up and set him down into the tub. I then increased his growth to a full forty-eight inches. Big enough to enjoy him physically, but certainly no threat to me. He looked up at me with very sad, brown eyes and quietly let me administer to him. My little man.

 

I removed the shower hose from its holder and brought it down to him. Kneeling at the tub, I turned on the hot and cold taps, adjusted the water temperature, and rinsed him under a gentle spray of warm water. I stood him up and admired him as he rose to his four foot height, very wet and humbled. We were eye to eye. His body was perfectly in proportion, muscular and wonderfully toned. Not a mark on him that would speak of what his body had just been through. His cock swayed temptingly before me.

 

“Ah, there's my little man. All spic and span and looking as lovely as the day I met him. Just smaller and more docile.

 

“How did you like my little experiment, hey?” I asked him earnestly as I tossed him a towel. He dried himself down, barely taking his eyes off of me. I'm sure he was wondering what it God's name I was going to do with him next.

 

I picked him up as one would a small child and raised him over my head, his cock to my lips. I began to softly lick and lap at it, taking his small testicles into my mouth every so often and lovingly laving them, his cock rose to full erection. I brought him back down and held him away from me to get a complete picture. He turned his head to the side, his eyes shut, embarrassed by his body's betrayal.

 

I stood him on the edge of the tub, brought my mouth to his cock and began to suck it. I siphoned his cock until he couldn't help but shoot his cum. It spurted violently and sweetly into my mouth, again and again. My little guy shot a considerable, man-size load of cum which I kept within my mouth until I had drained him of every drop he had to offer.

 

I removed his cock from between my lips and brought his small, delicate face to mine. Holding the back of his head, I pushed my mouth to his and fed him his own spunk, kissing and tonguing him all the while. He had no choice but to swallow it and I kept my mouth on his until he'd gotten all of it down. I gently kissed his lips two or three times afterwards and gathered him into my arms as I rose from the floor.

 

“Come my boy, we have a great deal to talk about,” I said as I carried him from the bathroom like a baby. My boy toy.

 

 

Author's Note

This will be a contributing story, so long as there is an interest. Give me some ideas you would like to see happen with or to my BOY TOY. If you were him, or you controlled him, what would happen?

Start me off on what you'd like to see happen, and I'll add on to this story. What sweet tortures or pleasures should he endure or enjoy?

(He will always be with me, so it's a life-long story, and could continue on indefinitely. Perhaps I might let others enjoy his "services", or add a like-sized playmate for the both of us to enjoy.)

Send your ideas to daddyzhere@gmail.com

 

 

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