The cold night air had a slight breeze, sending a few leaves across the asphalt of the crossroads. The sky was just bright enough to have the slightest blueish hue, stars twinkling in the light, the moon above in waxing gibbous. The neon signs flickered slightly as passerbys walked down the streets.

The night was calm, most of the residents having melted into the comforting embrace of sleep. The only ones awake at this hour were likely those who slept during the day or those who had work to do.

Boombox was neither of those, resting peacefully, soft hands laying limply against his unfluffed (and frankly, uncomfortable looking) pillow. He had been dreaming about one thing or another, quite pleased with whatever it was.

However, that sleep was short lived. Boombox's face contorted as his brain attempted to stir him awake. After a few minutes of trying to refuse, he accepted it. He stretched himself out, yawning. He wondered what his body wanted.

It was clear as he began blinking awake. His stomach was screaming at him, snarling in discontent as he had a harsh realization that he forgot to eat that day. He sat up, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes to clear them from any sleep-induced build-up and stretched once again.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for him to stand up, walking over to the bathroom to splash water on his face. He turned the shiny metallic knob, which made room-temperature water spurt from the faucet. He cupped his hands, filling the space with water and practically throwing it at himself. He yawned, looking at his reflection for a moment before stumbling outside of the bathroom, half-asleep.

Boombox had nearly forgotten what he was doing, squinting his eyes as the living room light illuminated the room. That lapse in memory didn't last as his stomach once again reminded him, growling viciously, accompanied by a sudden tightness in his abdomen. He groaned at the realization that he would have to make food. He'd unfortunately made due with all the instant ramen packets and lunchables he had purchased, meaning he would actually have to try and whip something up for himself. He stared at the countertop in the kitchen with raw loathing. He sighed and reassured himself. He was an adult, he could make something for himself.

PB&J wouldn't be too hard.

He had the sandwich a lot as a child, as it was one of the easier things to learn to prepare by himself. Fond memories of chewing soft bread and jam with peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth flooded through his head, making him smile a bit. Maybe this wasn't so difficult. Just a quick bite before bed.

The next 20 minutes or so were accompanied by a symphony of cabinets opening, jars falling to the ground, silverware clattering, absolute disaster. Boombox was embarrassed, even in his own house. However, all was done, so he allowed himself to stop overthinking. Glossy jam spread alongside the peanut butter mashed between the bread. He admired his work, as simple as it was.

It wasn't long before Boombox set himself on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the table with his sandwich and bloxy cola on the desk beside him. He was leaning over the arm of the loveseat as he picked the sandwich, shaking it gently to get rid of extra crumbs as he brought it to his mouth, tearing a small piece off as he set the rest of it back down.

As he sunk his teeth into the soft, fluffy bread, he allowed the taste to flood his senses. The sweet, almost slightly tart taste of the grape flavored paste and the slightly salty taste of the thick peanut butter (which tasted a bit saltier than usual.. must be the brand) mixed together with the slight sweetness of the bread beautifully into a harmony of flavors. Boombox hummed contently.

He swallowed the blend of foods down, taking a sip from the sweet cola beside him, eyes watering a bit at the fizzling in the back of his throat. This cycle continued, bite and drink, bite and drink, bite and drink; Eventually there was no more of either his drink or his sandwich left. He frowned a little.

Standing up, he brought the glass and plate to the sink and scrubbed them off, setting them in the dish drainer. He went to wipe his mouth off incase of any loose crumbs and realized that there was a bit of jelly on his cheek. He wiped it off with his thumb and couldn't help but mess with the glob for a moment with his thumb and pointer, feeling the texture. Something felt off. Not with the jelly, but rather with him. Although, he couldn't place it. He decided to just head back to sleep, rolling into his bed and closing his eyes once more, attempting to drift off.

One hour, still unable to sleep.

Two hours, he's tried every possible sleeping position.

Three hours, he groaned into the pillow and sat up.

He couldn't understand what was keeping him awake! The cola typically made him even sleepier, so what was keeping his eyes open wide? He grimaced at the lack of the pleasant taste from before in his mouth, now replaced by the oddly warm taste he got in the mornings. He stretched again and sighed as he got back up. It was surely the middle of the night now, in the AM's. He peeked outside, it was pitch black, stars brighter than ever. What was wrong, why was he so awake?

He sighed, walking back to the kitchen, deciding he would check the information on each jar and label to discern what was causing his lack of sleep. His feet nearly gliding across the tiled floor, hunching a bit in exhaustion. He opened one of the cabinets, scanning the bread and peanut butter for anything that would make him so insomniatic. Nothing. He groaned in annoyance and grabbed the jar of jelly.

Still nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just his body refusing to cooperate.

However, there was an unshakeable force drawing him towards the jar in his hand. He forced himself to brush it off.

He wasn't one for tea, and melatonin gummies didn't seem to work the few times he's needed them, so he could only think of one way to calm his body down.

Maybe he just needed a quick beat-off.

Boombox wasn't a very sexual person, at least not openly. He'd make a few jokes here and there but never discuss anything graphic; anything further esz an easy one-off remark was for himself alone. His friends were always met with a "I dunno, you figure it out" when asked about that side of himself. He never shyed from it, though. He simply thought of it through the gaze of a mood-booster, or a sleep aid, in this case.

He sighed, deciding to just do it in the kitchen and head back to bed. Couldn't hurt, right?

He hopped up onto the counter, turning so his whole body would fit rather than just having his legs dangle off the edge. He tucked his thumbs under his waistband, lifting his hips off the marbled surface to allow his green, plaid boxers to slip off without any issue. He balled them up and attempted to toss them to the couch, whining in disappointment when he realized he missed.

As he rested his back against the wall, his eyes widened when he looked downwards, shocked at how hard he was. He brought a hand to it, thumb lightly brushing the tip. He inhaled sharply. He stared at it in awe, which felt a little odd to Boombox considering he was staring at his own dick, but he couldn't help it.

He ever so softly cupped his hand around it, wincing at how sensitive he was. There wasn't anything that had particularly turned him on to his knowledge, so he wasn't sure why he was so rock-solid. He bit his lip, starting with light strokes around the base to avoid overwhelming himself. Even then, it was almost too much to bear. He was already panting.

He let his head fall back, resting it limply against the bumpy wall. His body heat pooled in his abdomen as he gained a steady rhythm, hand wrapped around his cock gently as to not overstimulate himself. Tip to base to tip to base. An easy metronome to follow. Boombox sighed shakily.

However, as time passed, Boombox couldn't seem to reach his high. Minutes turned into an hour, and he was losing hope. He was sweaty and tired and looked like an honest mess. He was starting to get frustrated.

His eyes darted around the room in a horny, exhausted haze, and his eyes settled on the very item that had made him feel so off in the first place.

The jar of grape-flavored jelly.

His eyes fixated on the thing. The glossy, shiney paste inside the clear jar.. something so alluring. He couldn't place it.

Boombox wanted to try something.

He sat up, shakily reaching towards the glass. He smiled with intent, barely being able to unscrew the top. He could care less about the safety of this.

He dug his hand into the glass container, scooping out a decent amount. He inhaled to calm himself and wrapped his coated hand around his dick.

Holy shit.

Boombox gasped, bucking his hips upwards. He relished in the slimy paste around his cock, eyes rolling back. He resumed his strokes from before, going a bit faster now. He couldn't believe how good this felt. He kept pumping, panting at the sensation on his tip. He grinned from horn to horn, giggling a little due to the adrenaline. The texture felt amazing.

He kept slamming his hand up and down, grunts turning into soft moans. This was the missing piece, the one thing that could push him over the edge.

His strokes became more erratic and sloppy, moans increasing in pitch. His whole body felt electric, shocks flowing throughout his body. It was becoming harder to breathe. His thighs trembled. His voice was cracking. His eyebrows knitted together, it was becoming harder to think, his vision was getting spotty and-

"HH-!"

Boombox gasped sharply. White spurted from his jelly-coated cock. His orgasm hit like one of Hyperlaser's shots. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from the sheer intensity. His body shook as it tried to calm down from the repeated spasms. He breathed out hard.

Through rough twitches, his body finally slowed down. His breathing got calmer as he panted, laying back against the wall. He blinked, trying to readjust himself to his surroundings. His heart's unending pounds were slowing.

He quickly realized his boner hadn't died down.

That was real annoying.

All of that work for nothing? Boombox whined. Curse his neediness. What was he meant to do.

That stupid jar kept catching his eye. He just realized how sticky one of his hands was and he muttered a complaint. He stood up to wash his hand off. He had a plan that would allow his hands to be completed jelly free! For now, at least.

As he washed off the purple-tinted hand, he stared back at the glass jar, grinning excitedly.

He wasted no time, hopping back onto the counter and picking the jar up. The lid was already off, so he'd save quite a bit of time.

He sat on his knees, grabbing the jar. He set his slightly below his pelvis, the tip of his sensitive dick just barely missing the rough edge of the opening. He wasn't sure how to do this.

There was no right way to fuck a jar of grape jelly though, was there?

Boombox shrugged, just going for it. He grabbed the jar in one hand, making sure there was no excess on the sides, and just slightly pressed himself into the jar.

He quickly realized it felt much better than when it was on his hand, mewling. It was no surprise, but due to the fact that he had just orgasmed, he was ungodly sensitive. He could cry from how good it felt. He raised his hips, nestling himself deeper into the jar. He was taking it pretty slow as to not become too overstimulated, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to pound into the glass.

Quickly though, even this had become too much. He whined shakily, body begging for a break. His voice was cracking every single moan, nerves electrifying his body. He was trembling, the texture making it even harder to withstand. It was so.. slimey, like a natural lubricant. And the fucking scent. It wrecked him. The smell of sex was one thing, but masked with the sweetness and familiarity of the grape scent? He didn't know if he could take it.

He just couldn't stop.

The tears that barely wet his eyes before were now falling down his cheeks, a few droplets falling and soaking his shirt. It was all so overwhelming but the overload was just too addicting. Not to mention the slight tinge of humility, how ridiculous it was that the only thing getting him off was a jar of jam. But how was he meant to care when it felt so painfully good? His whole body was twitching, overworked.

He was already getting close again. A second orgasm, he'd never managed that before! Not within the same hour, at least.

He whimpered as he felt his body temperature increasing and his muscles tensing. He was treating the jar like a fucking fleshlight and it felt perfect. So close..

One particularly deep thrust sent him over, coating the jar and the paste inside with his own liquids, painting it white. He panted, a string of saliva connecting his upper and lower jaw. He laid limply for a moment, feeling some of the grape liquid begin to drip onto his thigh, but he didn't have the energy to care. He wasn't sure if he could handle another round.

That was until he realized his erection hadn't died down yet. As tiring as it was, at least he would get to indulge a little more.

What else was there to do? He'd done all he could imagine.. except..

No, he'd never done anything like that! Not even with just his hands! The idea alone was embarrassing!

That didn't stop his cock from twitching from the image in his head, however.

He breathed deeply, shrugging it off. If it felt good, it felt good. He eyed the jar again, cringing at the cum in the bottom. At least he could still use the stuff at the top? He didn't care anymore.

He flipped himself over, propping himself onto his knees and laying on his elbows. He dipped his pointer finger into the jar. So much for keeping his hands clean. He used his clean hand to spread his ass, exhaling nervously. He'd never done this before. Would it hurt? Maybe.. Why did he care anyway? Boombox was a phighter, this would be nothing! He shook the worries away and prodded at the entrance. He inhaled through his teeth at the cold jam. He'd get used to that, probably. This stuff was almost like lubricant, so he assumed it'd help? He poked and prodded a few more times before plunging a finger in, gasping.

He'd never tried that. It felt weird, his body trying to fight against it. However, it didn't hurt, so he tried to push it further inside. He whined, huffing from the foreign feeling, the intensity surprising to him. He got in as far as he could, it was not-so-shockingly tight, which made it a bit difficult. He decided to try adding his middle finger as well. He pulled his hand out, getting more of the paste onto his fingers, and dipped them both in.

He bit his lip. Okay, that did hurt a bit. He didn't stop though, knowing full well it wouldn't hurt after a bit. He inched each knuckle inside, wincing a few times. When he finally got all the way inside, he panted, trying to adjust. The gelatin lubricant helped quite a lot, but it was still a stretch. He needed to start moving, his dick aching in need.

He slowly moved his fingers out, pushing them back inside. He began pumping slightly faster as he adjusted, soft moans beginning to fall from his lips. It wasn't long before he fell into a steady rhythm, sliding back and forth inside the tender flesh. It felt good, but wondered why people talked about it like it was the same as beating off. It wasn't that good.

Until he hit his prostate, of course.

That sensitive bundle of nerves absolutely wrecked him, he jolted.

"Oh Illumina.." He breathed out.

He managed to pinpoint that spot and absolutely abused it. He was jack-hammering his fingers in that spot, letting out the whiniest pleas he ever has. He used his free hand to cover his mouth as he pounded into himself, wails and gasps flowing out of him like a bird's song. Each time his fingertips nailed that small part of his insides, he got closer to a noise complaint. His cock was leaking precum, which he watched pool on the countertop. His eyes rolled back.

He felt lightheaded, drooling against his palm. It was so overwhelmingly good that he began sobbing in pleasure. His legs were trembling everytime he curled his fingers. The sweet fruity scent was flooding his senses, making it harder to handle the stimulation. It felt so good, soso good, so perfect-

He jolted forwards, cumming on the counter. His knees shook. He panted. He giggled at the fact that he just came hands-free, that was new. He huffed. Surely that was enough, right? He couldn't need more.

Oh, but of course he did. He didn't know how he would stay sane after four orgasms, but he supposed if he wanted to sleep, he'd need to.

What was he gonna do? There wasn't much else left to….. No way. He couldn't.

But.. Maybe…

He sat up, closing the jar. He got back up to his knees. He was going to try this.

He lifted his hips, lining himself up. Surely this wouldn't work?

It worked.

"AH-hhahhhh…" Boombox nearly screamed. The lid of the jar was inside. He just had to fit the rest. Fuck, it hurt, but it was like a drug to him and he needed his fill.

He inched it further inside, the glass stretching out his walls. He sobbed in pleasure, the pain feeling insanely good. He kept going, trying to fit as much as he could.

He managed to get about half the jar inside. He panted once he did so, heavy breaths warming the air. He began attempting to move, bouncing up and down on it slowly. As he did so, he rubbed one of his hands across the surface of his overworked cock, whimpering as he lightly stroked the tip. The stretching he felt was amazing, the fullness inside him turning him on beyond belief.

He fell into a cycle, bouncing while stroking, and it was great. His walls clung to the glass container as he moved it inside himself. He wasn't even sure how this fit, but it felt heavenly. The size of the jar alone was enough to nail his prostate every single time, sending shocks up his nerves. He pleaded to nobody for nothing specific, mind going blank as he abused his poor insides. Tears streamed down his face from how good everything felt. He whined loudly.

His stroking sped up as he got closer, the shaking of his thighs and overwhelming heat in his core were enough to tell him that he was near the edge. He'd never felt anything like this before, it was exhilarating. The sensations flowing throughout his body were making him lose it.

Time was beginning to blur. It was getting harder to handle the throbbing need inside of him, and he needed to cum so badly. He pumped his hand around his cock, speeding up when he noticed he was struggling to push himself over. It was so overwhelming and he still struggled to cum even when he was borderline sobbing. He was so close, closer than ever. He just wanted to cum. He needed it.

He used his free hand to push a hand up his shirt, hoping giving his chest some attention would be enough. He inhaled through his teeth at the sensitivity. Oh yeah, that'll do it alright.

His moans got louder and louder, unable to care about the noise complaints or sore throat he'll have in the morning. He needed this. His vision got blurrier and his heart was pounding enough to feel in his skull. He could barely tell what was going on around him anymore. He couldn't think. He was sooooo…..

Boombox's head reeled back as he had his final release, nearly screaming, his fluid coating his t-shirt as he leaned back. His whole body shook in waves, having to prop his arms behind him so he wouldn't collapse face first. The spasms came to a close after a few seconds and all was still. His breathing slowed and he smiled in content with his erection finally being satisfied. He trembled a bit, shakily pulling the jar out of him. He shuttered at the gape it left behind and called it a day. He'd clean up after he slept. He just couldn't do it right now. He yawned, hopping off the counter and laying on the couch nearby, not bothering getting dressed again as he dozed off.

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