Another Exclusive Story (Patreon)

While I finish this latest video, here's a story I wrote a while back while I was experimenting with - basically - blatant absurdity as part of a magical TF.

... Which is to say, this one is a bit weird.

Brendan had gotten very used to these little 'stop-offs' during their dates. Eve would casually suggest 'Maybe just popping in' on some old antique or curio shop she'd heard about in the neighbourhood.

... And cue the disappearance of several hours.

But every relationship had its foibles, and Eve's odd and distinctive sense of decoration and love of chintzy old crap made him, if anything, even more fond of her.

Not that that made the time fly any faster...

She was off talking to the pleasant-seeming elderly lady who owned the shop, occasionally pointing at a collection of old dinner plates, and he thought he might have a wander around.

Sometimes you could actually find something good in the dusty old corners of sprawling, out-of-the-way places like this. 

This one, however, sadly seemed quite bog-standard.

He vaguely examined the nearby objects: ... An old footstool... A colourful lamp... A sexy naked girl... A lightly beaten-up piano...

He almost paused for a moment to consider if one of those was not perhaps slightly out of the ordinary, but the impulse was so slight and passing that it barely even registered consciously.

He picked up the lamp. It was the kind of thing that Eve had really been into about five years ago, but her taste had moved on since then. 

He carefully put it back down and idly considered the sexy naked girl. She was on her knees, dainty hands lifting her melon-sized breasts, as if offering them and their puffy nipples to the observer. She stared back at him with an almost tortured look of silent need, biting at her pouty lower lip. The painful hardness of her nipples and the occasional slight rubbing of her creamy thighs hinted her arousal. 

The whole air around her was thick with the scent of her need. 

If you had her, you'd probably have to put a newspaper under her to protect the carpet, Brendan reflected as he idly ran his fingers through her long silky hair. 

Like the rest of her, it was coated in a fine layer of dust.

$20, the tag around her neck read. 

Brendan was about to move onto examining the piano when it happened. The reasons are too lengthy, technical and obscure to really go into here, let's Just mention that phases of the moon, the time of the day, an unusual ingredient in Brendan's aftershave, and several other important aspects of ancient curses were involved.

What can be easily mentioned is the flash and the disheveled and oddly-dressed man who was suddenly standing in front of Brendan.

The mystery man looked down and swatted at himself before letting out an inarticulate cry of evident joy and running for the door.

Brendan silently watched him go, the carpet rough against his soft knees. He was somewhat surprised of course by the weight of the huge tits suddenly in his delicate little hands, the tickle of long hair down his back, or the unprecedented damp burning between his long, girlish legs... but mostly he just knew that he was a knick-knack now, and knick-knacks sit quietly and look pretty. They most certainly DON'T ball up their little hand into a fist and ram it up their hot, needy little pussies, no matter how much they might want to. 

They don't even squealingly pinch at their big, erect, slutty nipples - they just push them out hard and lift them up high and hope that some passerby will consider it.

All in all, being a knick-knack is a very specific thing.

Brendan knelt there quietly for quite a while - which was, after all, his whole purpose now - feeling the slow dripping of his pussy onto his legs, offering up his impossible titties, being a good little knick-knack - before Eve wandered by, still deep in conversation with the old lady. Brendan got the sense they were on their way to look at some cutlery.

'Oh!', Eve said when she noticed him. 

'Oh... Oh yes. That's been here forever, since long before my time', the Old lady said, noting her interest. 'It's a genuine sexy naked girl, one of the old ones. Not much call for them nowdays, I'm afraid.'

Eve was standing directly above Brendan now, looking down into his big, pretty eyes.

'It's... I haven't really seen many sexy naked girls outside of movies, but I can tell this is a really good quality one.'

She leant down and squeezed one of Brendan's gently wobbling breasts. 'The workmanship is incredible!'

One of her fingers traced the impressive swell of his nipple, her long, manicured nail lightly brushing the hot, taught skin...

Brendan's eyes briefly lost focus.

'It seems very... Is it...?' she sniffed the air. 'Oh!' 

'Yes - it's certainly one of the horny ones. That's how you can tell it's quality - people always liked the really horny sexy naked girls the most.'

Eve was crouching down now. She slipped two fingers between Brendan's unresisting thighs.

He had to bite down hard on his painted lip and repeat to himself that knick-knacks most certainly do not squeal ecstatically in people's faces. 

'It's so juicy!' she said, rubbing back and forth. 'So juicy! And hot and tight! Geez, it's positively GOOSHY!'

At this point the old lady had realised that she might actually, finally, be able to unload the old thing. It had been here for so long that she had just resigned herself to it sitting in this corner forever. 

'Yes, it IS very nice, isn't it?', she said cautiously. 'Soft hair, big slutty titties, perfect body, fat ass, needy virgin pussy...'

Eve nodded as she withdrew her fingers finally. 'Yes, I can see that', she moved her hand up to Brendan's face, idly cleaning the stickiness from her fingers by pushing them between his pouting lips. 'But I think I particularly like the face'

She placed her palm on his chin and lifted his head until his eyes were almost level with hers. 'it's very sweetly pretty in a lost-little-girl kind of way, but I think it's more than that... I think it kind of reminds me of someone...' she said, almost sadly.

Brendan stared back, his focus just starting to return, the taste of his womanhood melting thickly in his mouth. 

'Well, tell you what...', the old lady said just a bit too quickly. 'It's $20, but it's been here for so long that I could give it to you for half price'

Eve pursed her lips in thought in that way that Brendan knew so well. 'Actually, you know, I think I know a great place it could fit...' 

He'd been right. She DID have to put down newspaper to protect the carpet.

It wasn't a bad spot - in the living room next to one of the larger potted plants. It was a good example of Eve's particular sense of style.

And he got to see most things, as I suppose Knick-knacks do.

He watched her friends come over and gently-but-concernedly rib her for not having had a boyfriend in so long, he saw on lonely nights when she irritably masturbated while half-watching television.

He knew knick-knacks shouldn't be jealous.

He spent most of his time dreaming that Eve's annoying little teenage brother would come back - he'd dropped by one afternoon and, while Eve was out of the room for an extended period of time, had curiously and roughly played with Brendan's massive breasts and had pushed a great number of things deep into his vagina. 

Both Eve and Brendan had been very annoyed when she'd finally found out where the remote had gone... though for very different reasons.

Now he felt so terribly empty again...

It hadn't taken her long, of course. Brendan would be the first to agree that Eve was a great girl that any man would be proud to have. Her new boyfriend annoyed him a bit, but seemed a generally decent enough sort.

On weekends, after a few glasses of wine, they sometimes ended up doing it right there on the couch. Her bent over, panties around her ankles, moaning and squeaking softly as he grunted and pounded roughly into her.

Brendan would watch that penis, so much larger than his ever was, emerge and bury itself so energetically in a glistening wet vagina. So deeply. So energetically.

And he knew that knick-knacks shouldn't be jealous.

... And, once or twice, while this was happening, Eve's new boyfriend's gaze would wander across the room and linger on the girlish lust-frozen face watching from beyond the larger potplant. He would abstractly consider the huge, gently wobbling, enthusiastically-proffered tits... The nipples, blood-red and glass-hard with need... the thighs twitching together in frustration... The constant distant whiff of overpowering feminine need...

And he would reflect that his girlfriend's odd sense of decor wasn't actually all that bad.