My Jack-in-the-Box asked me to kill for him. My life freaking sucks. The only relative I actually like just died, my mom refuses to acknowledge what a creep her husband is, my landlords won't fix my apartment, and I get yelled at every day because the only job I could get was in telemarketing. So when my grandma leaves me an antique Jack-in-the-Box, I start confiding in it. And then the dreams start--but in the dreams, he's not some toy. He's more than fun-sized and sexy in that way lanky nerds tend to be. Only problem is, his bottom half is a spring. But that doesn't stop him from bringing me more pleasure in dreams than any man ever has before. He says a demon trapped him in the box. A human sacrifice is his only way to be free. And it's crazy, but I might just do it if it means he'll finally get to pop out his weasel.
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