Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Very good choice, Sir," the seller says when he hands over the fleshlight that caught his eye. He would rather have spared himself the shame of buying a sex toy in person and having to interact with a human being while doing so, but Jeff Bezos does not offer this specific model. He knows, because he made the conscious choice to go into a store specializing in toys for outcasts after a display caught his eye. Somewhere between the werewolf bondage chains and the minotaur milking apparatus, he found a seemingly telepathic fleshlight on sale.

Think of the person you most desire and fuck them, hassle free! The box reads.

After a string of overly successful flings where the other person got too attached or had about ten times as many feelings as he was willing to invest in a hookup, he knows that a non-sentient piece of plastic that will allow him to feel a warm vagina around his penis without having to take its owner out to dinner first is the best thing he could ever invest in.

He doesn't waste any time when he gets home, unpacking it as soon as he locks his bedroom door, checking that his windows are locked and the curtains drawn before he flops back onto his bed and grabs the lube from his bedside table. He pours a small amount at the entrance of the toy and slathers his already hard dick, getting down to business immediately.

Wednesday is having a very pleasant dream. She can feel, through the veil of unconsciousness, how relaxed her body is, how warm and comfortable she feels. She seems to have tossed and turned during the night, and finds herself lying on her front rather than her usual rigid posture on her back. One of her legs is hiked up, almost hanging off the side of the bed, and her face is half buried in her pillow, her fingers clutching it as her body undulates with pleasure.

She's dreaming something is fucking her, and her body is reacting to it in its sleep. She's wet and sweating, panting softly as she feels it penetrate her over and over again, her hips rolling as her orgasm builds. Her dream is fuzzy, barely there, but the physical sensation of it is overwhelming. She's getting fucked so hard she wakes up, her walls already contracting around it as she comes, her face pressed against her pillow to stifle her moans.

It's not a dream, she realizes, blinking sleep from her eyes. Whatever had been fucking her is still going, sloppily ramming itself into her. She pulls the covers off her sweaty back and looks down at her body, finding nothing and no one in the bed with her. Her arms give out and she spreads her legs again, reaching a hand down to her entrance to feel it stretching around nothing, her vagina filled over and over again by something that is not there. She circles her fingers around her clit lightly, hips stuttering as she comes again with a soft sigh, and the thing inside her stops.

I must still be dreaming, she thinks, I thought I woke up but I'm still sleeping. She relaxes back into the bed, tangled in her sweaty sheets, and lets sleep overcome her again until morning, when she will have nothing but distant memories of a very satisfying wet dream.

The next time it happens, she's in class. There's no warning, no buildup to it, nothing to tell her something is about to fuck her stupid until it's inside her, stretching her and pounding into her as she hangs on to her desk for dear life. Sweat is already beading on her forehead, and her knees spread so that she's straddling her stool, her hips twitching when she fails to stop them from humping the wood beneath her.

Whatever it is sets a frenzied tempo, slamming deep into her with every thrust. She can already feel her orgasm building but she's getting frustrated, needing more friction, more pressure on her clit. She takes one of her boots off and leans forward to lie her chest on the desk, head pillowed on her arms, hoping no one will notice something is obviously wrong, or at least that they will think she's feeling unwell and stay away from her. She crosses a leg and sits on her heel, the pressure amazing against her clit when she grinds against it.

The thing inside her is losing itself to the sensation, its thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic. She bites into her forearm as she comes, trying to muffle the noises escaping her when her orgasm washes over her, heat spreading from her core all the way to her fingertips as her walls pulse madly, the stimulation almost overwhelming until the thing stops and withdraws from her suddenly, leaving her feeling empty and confused. 

The third time still takes her by surprise. She's at the Weathervane, sitting morosely at her usual booth, disappointed that Tyler seems to be off for the day. She's glaring at the barista that should, ideally, be him, when she feels the first thrust. Her fingers clench so hard around her coffee mug it almost shatters in her hands.

She nearly runs to the bathroom, grabbing her bag and hurrying out of the booth in a jerky motion, her legs trembling as she stumbles into a stall. She slams the door shut and locks it with shaking fingers, letting herself fall heavily on the toilet seat. She rummages through her bag and pulls out her vibrator, quickly bunching her skirt around her waist as she presses the button at the base and it comes to life in her hand.

She lets her head fall back, mouth open in pleasure as she presses the vibrating toy against her clit, the thing inside her moving against her g-spot with every thrust.

"Yes," she moans, feeling her orgasm building quickly. "Yes, God, yes." She holds the vibrator in place, turning it to the highest setting even as her body rebels against it, oversensitive from the onslaught. The thing inside her seems to be furious, ramming itself against her walls at a punishing pace, reaching deep inside her with every thrust.

"Fuck," she moans, lifting the vibrator off her clit when the stimulation becomes too painful. She balances on the edge of her climax for a few blissful seconds, riding a wave of warmth as her bodies crests. Her legs tremble shut when she comes, trapping her hand between her closed thighs, and the thing fucks her through her orgasm, not stopping until she's almost crying at the feeling. She presses the vibrator against her core again, trying to distract herself from the ache against her cervix and she squirts all over the floor, the mix of pain and pleasure too much for her body to take.

She sits on the toilet, breathless, the thing inside her stopping almost as abruptly as it started. She pants, looking at the mess she's made in the bathroom of this public establishment, and decides she's going to have to do something about this.

She doesn't get very far before it starts again. She's lying in bed, contemplating where to start her search, wondering if there's any literature available in the library about ghostly intercourse when she feels a soft pressure against her entrance. It's softer this time, so much so that she almost misses it at first. It's only when it breaches the tight muscles of her entrance that she allows herself to stop thinking, looking forward to the sensation of being filled.

She leaves her desk and moves to her bed, kneeling on it and burying her face in her pillow, thankful Enid is out for the night. She'll get to enjoy the full range of the experience. She presses her chest onto the bed and raises her ass in the air, pulling her pajama shorts down around her thighs, spreading her knees so she can play with her clit to distract herself from the sting of being stretched.

The thing is taking its time tonight. Far from its usual rough fucking, it slides in and out of her smoothly, pulling out almost completely so that only her entrance is stretched before pushing itself back in slowly, all the way to her cervix, pressing against it softly. She welcomes the pain of it, the fullness it brings, marvels at how well it fits into her.

Eventually, it tires of the teasing and starts fucking her properly, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her wanting more, her body craving the rough fuck she knows it's able to give her. Still, the sensation is not unpleasant, and she has no way of communicating with whatever this is to let it know what she needs, so she settles deeper into her pillows, getting comfortable.

It teases her for a long time, bringing her to the brink before it stops, letting her catch her breath for a minute before it starts up again. She's terrified that it's just going to leave her there, sweating and frustrated. She remembers the previous times, when it had simply stopped at seemingly random times, or had continued to fuck her even after she became an overstimulated mess. She prays it won't stop too soon this time, though she has half a mind to get her vibrator and make herself come, considering how much it's teasing her.

She feels herself nearing her orgasm again, the heat in her core spreading outwards, her fingertips tingling as she rubs her clit frantically, so close she can already feel how amazing it will be. She feels a light flutter of her walls, the telltale sign that she's about to come, ecstatic at the pleasure flooding her body as it fucks her in its steady rhythm, pressing itself deep inside her with every thrust.

She lets out a frustrated growl when it stops moving, nestled deep inside her but holding itself still. She whines, pressing her hips back to seek more of the feeling, but, of course, there's no one there. It gives two more thrusts before stopping again, grinding inside her before it thrusts a couple more times, then stops.

"Fuck," she shrieks, and she's about to give up and use her vibrator when it moves again, properly this time, fucking her like it had the previous times, frenzied and angry. She brings her left hand to her chest to roll her nipple between her fingers, her right hand still flicking her clit.

"Don't stop," she begs. "Don't stop, yes, don't stop," she'll go crazy if it stops again. She's babbling, still begging it to keep fucking her when the edges of her vision go white, her orgasm taking her by surprise after she's been brought back from the edge so many times. She moans loudly, her pussy clenching as pleasure overwhelms her, riding the waves as the thing inside her slams itself into her before coming to a stop deep inside her.

She lets her body crash onto the bed, panting, covered in sweat, still full with whatever has been using her body. She has half a thought to continue her research, but she falls asleep almost immediately, her bottoms still tangled around her knees, her sheets a mess, her hair mussed and escaping from its braids. 

Tyler is completely enamored with his new toy. It seems to be almost alive, gripping and clenching around him as he fucks it, responsive and warm around his hard penis whenever he feels like using it. He's pretty sure nothing will ever compare to this.

He's been fucking it almost exclusively, these days, addicted to the sensation of sinking into its wet heat and imagining he's burying himself to the hilt in Wednesday Addams' tiny body. The thought alone has him half hard in his joggers and he reaches for the toy and the lube, ready to enjoy another session with his beloved companion.

He starts almost gently, savoring the sensation, but quickly loses himself to it, eager to come so he can fall into blissful sleep. He slams the fleshlight down with every thrust of his hips, chasing the orgasm he can already feel building. The toy seems to be alive, wet and pulsing, clenching deliciously when he changes the angle to drag the head of his dick against the wall.

He's curious to know if he can make it tighten like it had the last time he'd used it, the thing gripping him like a vice for a few seconds before it had started milking him madly, its walls fluttering around him as he shot his load deep inside it. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he made the thing come. He drops his head back on his pillows, imagining the noises Wednesday would make if she came on his cock, his hand sloppily pumping the toy along his length.

It starts to tighten itself again and he's a goner, his balls drawing up as pleasure overtakes his entire body, his toes curling in the sheets and his hips stuttering into the fleshlight. He grinds himself as deep as he can go, marking it just as he would Wednesday. He lets himself relax, the tension slowly leaving his body, already drifting off to sleep when the damn thing starts clamping on his oversensitive penis.

He pulls it off in a fluid motion and looks into the entrance. His come is steadily leaking out, making a mess of his shirt, but, more interestingly, the silicone is pulsing intermittently, as if it were begging for more. He slides a finger in, curious, probing against the walls. He curls it to press against where its g-spot would be and it becomes impossibly tighter. He can't even imagine what that would feel like around his penis, clenched so hard he could probably not even move.

He pulls his finger out to quickly add another, his middle and ring fingers pressing against the g-spot over and over until he feels the toy relax for a few seconds before its walls start fluttering again, lightly at first, then harder, holding his fingers in place, nearly sucking them in. He keeps going until the aftershocks subside, sliding his fingers out gently, slightly disturbed by the fact that he just fingered a sex toy and the damn thing seemed to enjoy it.

He wipes his hand on his shirt before taking it off, dropping it in a ball on the floor that he'll deal with later. He's settling himself into his pillows so he can go to sleep when his phone starts buzzing on his nightstand. He has half a mind to ignore it, but his curiosity gets the best of him, and he picks it up on the fifth ring.

"Hi," he says, surprised to see Wednesday's face filling his screen. "I didn't know you had a phone," he's trying to buy himself time, checking that the camera can't pick up on any clues as to his recent activities.

"I borrowed Enid's because I need your help," Wednesday says, breathless. He peers at her closely; she seems flushed, a faint blush high on her cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead. She looks sick, and he can see that she's lying in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin.

"Wednesday, are you ok?" he's worried. He knows she'd never ask for help unless the situation were dire.

"Fine," she snaps. "I need to see someone who can resolve an issue I'm having. I need you to drive me there."

"Sure," Tyler says. "I'll pick you up at the school gates tomorrow morning?"

"Great," she grumbles. "Thank you."

"So, what's going on?" he asks as soon as she slams the passenger door shut.

"Initially, I thought I was getting constantly fucked by a very horny ghost," she starts, and he nearly crashes the car into a tree. "But, upon further research, I've concluded that that's not possible. Ghosts are either fully corporeal or not at all," she continues. "And this thing seems to be nothing but a penis," she looks at his face and misinterprets his expression. "So it's not a ghost."

But Tyler is not confused. Tyler feels like he's just had a bucket of icy water poured over his head. Tyler is pretty sure he's about to get decapitated by the girl sitting not even a foot to his right. Tyler has a pretty good idea of what is going on, and he's very sure she's not going to like what she hears when this comes out, and he knows he'd rather die than go through the absolute mortification that is sure to come.

"Anyway, I found a sex shop that specializes in this kind of thing," she continues, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "We're going there to see if they know what this could be."

He's already planning on sitting this one out; he'll wait for her in the car and hope the person working at the store today is not the same guy who sold him his fleshlight, or that that guy has completely forgotten about him, or that this specific toy is so popular it could be traced back to literally anyone else. God, he's so dead. A cold feeling is spreading in his stomach, and he's pretty sure he's about to be sick.

The short trip feels even shorter today. He doesn't even have time to formulate half of an exit plan before they're pulling into the small parking lot, his stomach in knots, his whole body shivering in cold sweat. He immediately abandons his plan to wait for her in the car.

"Need the toilet," he grunts, and books it for the store, running ahead of her, slipping past the cash register in what he hopes is an inconspicuous move and not a panicked flounder that brings even more attention to himself. He locks himself in a stall and tries to think of a way to salvage the situation as his stomach rebels against him. He could just stay here forever, he could text Enid to come get Wednesday, he could escape through the window and leave her stranded here, he could try to flush himself down the toilet. Anything but what's about to happen, God, please.

In the end, he decides against any drastic moves, slinking back into the store and trying to stay as far from the register as he can, pretending to be interested in the products on a random display before he realizes he's been staring at ball gags for a good two minutes. He makes his way back to the front, trying to avoid touching anything when he catches the conversation Wednesday has been having with the seller.

"I sold one of those just the other day," it's the same guy who was here when he came. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was to the same fella you just came in with today."

Tyler wishes the ground would just swallow him. He wishes any of the magical items in this store would fly off a shelf to wrap itself around his neck and choke him to death. He's about to go looking for the asphyxiation section when Wednesday's voice floats over to him.

"Tyler?" she calls. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying to seem more casual than ready to die.

"Yeah," he starts. "I have no explanation. I didn't know this was gonna happen," he scratches the back of his neck and gives her a lopsided smile, hoping she's not about to slash his jugular open.

"Did you read the fine print, mate?" the seller asks him.

"Nobody reads those things," he says.

"We're not liable for this," the man turns to Wednesday, defensive. "It says so clearly in the notice," he rummages through a box and reads from a paper he fishes out. "Couples sex toy, perfect for long distance relationships. Think of the person you most desire and fuck them, hassle free! Fuck them as if it were the real thing, and they'll feel you from anywhere in the world."

Tyler is pretty sure he's going to implode. Please, God, erase the last week from existence, he begs. I'll go to church every Sunday. I'll go to church every day. I'll never masturbate again, I'll fast for months, I'll walk all the way to Santiago de Compostela. I'll swim all the way to Spain if you ask me to.

"Is there a female version of this?" Wednesday asks, and it takes him way too long to process what she's just said.

"Of course," the seller boasts. "Come with me, I'll show you the different models."

Please, God, Tyler starts again. Let me live in this moment forever.

Wednesday reappears not long after with a small box in her hands, the seller right behind her, grinning like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen. He rings her up, still smiling, nodding to himself.

"Good luck, mate," he says to Tyler as he hands her the bag.

"Come on, Tyler," Wednesday says, already heading for the car. "I want to see how this works."

Please God, let me survive this.