Toys Will Be Toys


This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only.  Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your State or Country.  Do NOT read this if you are easily offended or if you are not interested in fantasies involving young boys.  This file contains sexually EXPLICIT material.

The author does not condone any of the acts in this file.  

This story was not written to advocate sexual activity with minors. 

Please support free speech and stop censorship.

Style : Contemporary

Codes: (m/bbb - oral, anal)


Part 4      

   The doll maker staggered to the couch and sprawled on the leather cushions. He took a swig of Scotch from the bottle and sighed. Nine days had passed since the paperboy last stopped by to clear his debt. In a drunken haze, the man imagined the worst. Perhaps he had not assessed the kid's maturity adequately? Were his instincts letting him down?

He knew very well that fucking children equated playing the Russian roulette. If you put the barrel of the gun in your mouth too many times, the probability of catching a bullet increased dramatically. 

The matter required immediate action. However, fleeing to Tokyo didn't appeal to Robson anymore, even though he had not seen his mentor in over a decade. Surely, the old fellow would be pleased to welcome him. 

Master Takizawa had taught him everything he should know concerning the subtle art of human dolls. Furthermore, the wise tutor had introduced him to underground places where Shotacon fantasies came to life. It had been a great honour to be taken under his wing. 

For his first project, Robson had laboured on a reproduction of the Asian man's four-year-old son, Hiroshi. The toddler wriggled so much that they needed to sedate him in order to complete the full body cast. 

For months, the apprentice remade the small doll, again and again, honing his craft. He cussed during the plugging of every tiny eyelash. The non-toxic glue didn't set hard enough to affix the synthetic toenails. He couldn't overlook this flaw. A customer might choke on them when he suckled the little piggies. The whole process required mountains of patience. 

Eventually, the Hiroshi doll was perfect. Master Takizawa patted him on the back. They celebrated at an izakaya, drinking sake and stuffing their faces with the exquisite dishes. Afterwards, they took a cab to Club Kabegami. The peculiar joint was very popular. On the walls, naked Japanese boys were suspended from metal hooks like paintings. Their wrists and ankles were bound with florescent rope. 

The patrons enjoyed a cocktail, conversed, and ambled in the private Club. They stopped in front of a boy and sucked him off. Moans and cries of joy of the children cumming repeatedly served as the background music for the evening. 

Robson shuddered awake from his snooze. He drank another shot of Scotch and stood up. His decision was taken. He would not run away from the cozy nest he'd built. And there were pressing things to deal with. His customers had been e-mailing requests for a punk boy doll. He couldn't just improvise one up. 

The thrill of hunting for an authentic juvenile delinquent gave him a purpose. At once, he forgot his anguish. 

* * *

   The crowd spewed out of the pubs. That night, a refreshing drizzle turned the street into a mirror, reflecting the blinking lights of the clubs. 

This was the playground of all vices. The seedy part of the city with its gay hangouts named 'Kox', 'Maleroom', 'Angus', the cheap hotels and XXX video stores. Up the boulevard, grey-haired fellows exited the 'Cheekuns' where minutes before, sixteen-year-old boys with fake ID cards shook their bony asses and twirled around a pole like hussies. 

On the sidewalk, men passing by threw lustful stares in Robson's direction, as if he was a piece of meat. At thirty, he had completely shed the youthful aura of a teenager but he reckoned he was still a good catch. The shameless flirting flattered him. 

At this time of the night, nobody wanted to go home alone. Tired drag queens held on to shirtless beefcakes under the scrutiny of dumb twinks. Teenaged cocksuckers lurked in the darkened entryways of closed shops, waiting for a generous businessman. Rejected creatures of the night wandered aimlessly. 

Robson observed the strange urban ballet for a while then opted to prowl in the alley behind the bars. 

A group of bums were sitting next to a blue dumpster. The earthy aroma of burning weed wafted up his nostrils. In the pack of teenagers, the youngest one had definite potential. 

He scattered a round of cigarettes to wake up the bad boys from their lethargy. They looked up menacingly; acting like they were some kind of tough gang when in reality they were nothing but vulgar vagrants, at best self-proclaimed anarchists. A sad bunch of squeegee rebels without a cause, cleaning windshields on street corners for a couple of quarters. 

The leader of the pack looked to be around twenty, surely a veteran in the flashy neighbourhood. The blue bandana on his forehead did not conceal his bloodshot eyes and Robson could see into his pupils, into the emptiness of his soul, drained over the years by the harsh lifestyle he'd chosen. 

   "Hey, if you got some good ex, I can be your little girl." The young man proposed. 

   "You're too old for puppy love." Robson replied. 

The junkie smirked, threw his head to the side in a blatant effort to show he didn't give a shit. 

   "Who's your friend?" The man queried, thrusting his chin at the young lad whose glabrous jaw poked out of his hood. 

   "This here is Johnny." The leader sang, wrapping his arm around the shoulders of the youngster. "He's our new buddy. He came in on the big bus last week." 

   "Is that so?" Robson exclaimed, surprised that the kid had eluded the claws of the scumbags preying on naive runaways at the bus terminal.


The man crouched over the pot-smoking boy and examined his face. It was untouched by the ravages of puberty. On his shaven head, only a tuft of hair dyed green drooped down the front of his scalp. He wore Doc Martens boots, torn blue jeans and a Rancid t-shirt, the guise of a perfect little punk. The boy stared stupidly at him, feigning contempt with eyes veiled by a blurry glaze 

   "Rat got your tongue?" Robson asked bluntly. 

They had taught him well already. The defiant boy grunted, flashing that cocky look that all those punks use to shake you away. 

   "Fuck off, man. He won't do it." Another teen butted in. 

   "So, you're his mommy now?" Robson growled at him. 

   "He's only thirteen!" 

   "Well, I'm pretty sure Johnny knows you have to put stuff in your mouth if you wanna survive." He chimed with a mellow tone. 

   "I'm gonna chill here." The kid finally spoke. 

He had such a pretty voice, broken yet lyrical, with raspy undertones. They considered each other. Robson produced his warmest smile. The kid sought comfort in the depth of the adult's eyes, assurance that he would not be harmed. Then he saw it, the glint of all glints, embodying centuries of men's primal lust for boys like him. He bowed his head and glanced coyly at his boots. 

   "It's your call. There's nothing wrong with sleeping in the rain." Robson said, slowly departing from the scene, dejected by his failure to reel him in. 

At the end of the alley, footsteps resonated behind him. The boy stamped out the distance between them. He followed the man all the way to his hotel room. Robson ushered the little punk inside and crumbled on the bed. The pretty boy fidgeted on the same spot, deliberating on what he was supposed to do. 

   "Go take a shower, Johnny. You stink of trash." Robson mumbled, switching the TV on with the remote. His guards were up as he entertained the possibility that the street punk might brandish a knife to mug him. 

Thankfully, his prize breezed to the bathroom. He ordered a pizza in the meantime. The shower ran and Johnny waltzed out, wearing only a towel around his loins. Carelessness accompanied his movements. He sat on the edge of the mattress. Without his provocative clothes, he looked younger and vulnerable. 

For a kid of thirteen, there weren't many muscles on his frame. But it was easy to see how in a few years, he would be every ebophile's ideal partner. A lean masculine specimen with a hard body perfectly poised at the frontier, retaining its childhood frailty but ever so slanting towards manliness. 

The doorbell rang. Robson fetched his wallet and fished out a crisp twenty-dollar bill for the pizza. 

   "You can keep the change if you drop that towel to answer the door." He challenged his guest. 

Johnny frowned at first, then snickered, amused by the ridiculous dare. 

   "You think I won't do it?" 

   "I know you won't." 

The boy crushed the twenty in his fist and hurried to the door, letting the towel fall behind his calves. Meanwhile, Robson curled up with the latest Dennis Cooper novel and pretended to read, leering from the corner of his eye at the lovely firm globes arise and descend with every step. 

The expression on the delivery guy's face was priceless. He peeked at the kid's package and diverted his stare, probably thinking this was 'Candid Camera'. It never ceased to amaze Robson how even something insignificant as a minor's nudity had become a taboo. Moreover, how men had willingly handed their balls over to the feminist moral dictatorship. 

The bewildered chap backed off when Johnny extended his hand to pay, afraid he might be arrested if he got too close. Gathering his courage, the man took the money and handed over the change. 

Johnny returned with the box. His uncut sausage swung left and right vivaciously. A goofy grin blossomed on his lips. Robson watched the nude punk boy stretch on his tummy next to him. The kid wolfed down two slices in a minute. The savagery of his hunger was enticing. 

   "Funny... How that guy reacted." He mumbled, chewing a mouthful of dough. 

   "Not really." Robson differed. "I was thinking more along the line of...pathetic." 

Johnny shrugged, pursued the onslaught, oblivious to the discourse. Robson took the opportunity to inspect his anatomy. The white mounds of his ass were small. He couldn't conceive how he managed to hold up a pair of jeans with those puny buns. His feet had definitely grown too fast; they projected like diving fins at the end of his slender legs.

Unlike the other street wanderers, Johnny didn't keep his distance. Robson could not discern a trace of distrust. The kid had not built that invisible wall to protect himself from strangers. 

   "How come you're here in the big bad city? Trouble at home?" Robson asked. 

   "My dad kicked me out when he caught me getting fucked by a dude." He responded. 

   "Sorry to hear that." The man said sincerely. 

   "That's ok." The boy smiled awkwardly and dropped the piece of crust in the box. "So, are we gonna do it?" 

   "You bet! You're hot as hell!" 

In a snap, Robson stripped down to his boxers and lounged on the bed, this time on his back. 

   "Come sit on me." He called the young punk. 

The nude boy straddled his chest. He had a nice set of balls and the cock to go along with it. A scarce patch of wispy brown hairs adorned his pubic mound. 

   "How old were you when you got your first blowjob?" Robson inquired. 


   "From a boy or a girl?" 

   "A girl. She was our babysitter!" Johnny chuckled. "She sucked my kid brother's dick and mine every week before tucking us under the covers." 

   "More than once! What a slut! You should have told on that child molester." The man remarked, gliding between the hairless legs, putting his mouth underneath the plump scrotum. 

   "Did it make you feel naughty and dirty when she did that?" He asked, licking the balls. 


   "I'm gonna make you feel dirtier." Robson vowed, nibbling on the sac. 

Johnny's penis hardened rapidly. A slight shift afforded the man a glimpse at his anus. He had not lied about losing his virginity from the looks of it. He spread the buns and surged at the hairless backdoor. The tip of his tongue swirled on the pucker and invaded the narrow passage. Johnny impaled himself on the wet muscle, wriggling his behind and jacking off like a horny toad. 

   "Don't touch your dick!" Robson disapproved. 

With regrets, the boy forsook his joystick. He moaned as furtive jabs of the tongue hit the bull's-eye. Every time he reached for his hard prick, the man denied him that option. Sliding out from underneath him, Robson turned around and ran his tongue on the underside of the boy's penis, up to the head. The sole eye of the organ cried a rivulet of tears. His tongue ventured on the membrane. He pulled on the foreskin to garner all of the clear nectar. 

For long minutes, Robson slurped on the boycock ever so gently. Despite all the precautions he took, Johnny panted, already on the verge of blowing his wad. He did not want that. A wheezy hissing coming out of his nose warned him that he should stop pleasuring him at once. 

   "Uhhh, c'mon, I need to cum! Do it faster please." The febrile boy complained. 

   "You have to do it to me too." Robson requested, in the hopes of cooling him off. 

Johnny jumped to the edge of the mattress, positioning himself before the adult's crotch. He tugged on the silk boxers. Robson's straining pole sprung out, throbbing, begging for the moist embrace of the kid's mouth. 

   "Oh shit, you got a big cock!" Johnny cheered, apparently having never seen an eight-inch whopper. 

Robson tilted the kid's head back, arched the throat, and rubbed his hairy nuts on his pretty face. 

   "Chew my balls." He said, stuffing the first one in. The rosy cheeks expanded from the size of the testicle. He wedged the other one in the warm cavity, pinching it barely through the oval of the lips. 

   "Ohhh yeah, suck my balls good." He groaned. 

The boy looked like a squirrel, munching on the obese wrinkled bag. Catching Robson off guard, the horny rascal went for his pecker and gave it a few wanks. 

   "No way!" The man roared. "You can't play with yourself when you're playing with me." He ordered, popping his balls out of the kid's mouth. 

   "C'mmmmmon!" Johnny whined. 

   "Don't fret, you'll cum very hard soon." He promised, cradling the nape of the kid's neck and feeding him his tool. The lips clamped down on his penis, slid back and forth right away. 

   "That's it! Suck that big cock!" Robson chanted, watching him take it in earnest. Not bad for a kid picked up at random. 

For a while, he just stood there, surveying the tuft of green hair bounce up and down over his swollen cock. Arms akimbo, muscles tensed. The boy's mouth seemed like it was going to suck the sauce right out of the furnace of his balls before he even came. A dazzling cocksucker he was, always pulling on his prick, flicking his tongue on the head. Robson couldn't take more than five minutes of that magnificent service before he was ready to unload. He pushed the boy's head away. 

   "You're ready to cum now?" 

   "Yeah! Pleeze!" Johnny beamed. 

The man grabbed the cooperative kid by his ankles and rolled him on his back. Johnny reached up with his humid lips, trying to kiss the tip of his penis, starving for the relief he had been refused. Robson sat on his feet above his head to secure his balance, stroking the back of his thighs, going up to his firm buttocks. The boy presented a great tableau; bent in two, his hairless asshole lewdly exposed and his beautiful five-inch prick pointing down at his face.

   "I can't reach!" Johnny protested. 

   "Suck on this." Robson said, shoving his middle finger in the kid's mouth. "Get it real wet." 

The young boy suckled the finger and followed the moist digit with his eyes as it left his lips and zoomed over to his anus. 

   "Ohhhhh fuck!" He cried out, eyeing it circle his hole. 

With his free hand, Robson milked the kid's hard dick, rubbing his thumb in the sensitive indentation underneath the glans. The tight asshole relaxed to the pressure of his finger. He tugged on the kid's erection faster, sinking the longest of his digits into him. Johnny moaned while the probe sought his prostate gland. 

   "Open your mouth." Robson instructed him. 

The lad complied. His mouth cracked open below his erection. The big finger gradually plunged and emerged faster into his anus. 

   "Uhhhh! Uhhhh! UHHHHH!" Johnny moaned, overwhelmed by the euphoria of both stimulations, reaching the point when males just became slaves to their own pleasure, when they relinquished all sense of dignity and were prepared to do anything to get off. 

   "Cum in your mouth! I want to see it. Shoot your load and eat it!" Robson exulted. 

   "Stick another finger in my asshole!" 

   "Yessir!" The man acquiesced, worming his index along with its buddy square into the orifice. The tenacious sphincter battled the intrusion, but he lodged both fingers down to the first knuckle. 

   "OHHH! OHHHH! I'm gonna cum!" Johnny panicked. 

Robson scooted over to the kid's upturned butt. He grabbed his erection and bent the shaft at a ninety-degree angle. There wasn't a second to spare. He flexed his knees and buried his cock in the kid's asshole, using it like a jackhammer to fuck him. With passionate thrust, he drove his cock hard and steady deep into the boy's guts. Sadly, Johnny overheated and trashed on the mattress from his orgasm. 

Robson aimed the boy's shooting prick at his mouth, guiding each milky jet on his outstretched tongue. Johnny raised his neck like he was drinking from a fountain, collecting all five squirts of jizz. He smiled slyly at the man as he consumed his own spunk. 

Robson's cock swelled from the spectacle. A shot of bliss numbed him. 'Arrgh, the little slut!' 

He went over the edge and pulled out quickly to shove his cock in the kid's mouth. The abundant sauce flooded the oral cavity and overflowed from the corners of the boy's lips. Johnny gulped down the mouthful, swallowing all the rich seed. 


To be continued...     

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