“Nash Nighthammer, I have a quest for you!”
Nash looked up from his mug of ale. It was Turnik Nightslice, the accomplished thief and more accomplished rascal. He was carrying a large sack like he had just robbed a merchant’s guild. It was said that he once robbed a judge of his beard while he held court. It was also said that Turnik could steal a lump of shit from a constipated man. Nash knew that all of this was true, but most importantly; he knew Turnik was a friend.
“Don’t tease me, Turnik,” the mighty warrior said. “I have not had a decent quest in three weeks. The last quest that was offered to me was to kill some of the local wolves.”
Turnik snorted. “Tough times my friend.” The thief sat down at the table. He sat opposite Nash because when a thief is your friend, it is a courtesy to stay where you can see them.
“What do you need me to do?” Nash said. “Help knock out some guards while you steal some large gem?”
Turnik shook his head. “I have a box I can’t open. I stole it from the Mad Preist of the Unseeable but damn if I can open it.”
Nash frowned. “You can pick any lock and open any chest. If you can’t open it, what chance do I have? Do you want me to break it open?”
“Nah, my friend,” Turnik said. “I just knew this would be in your expertise.”
The thief pulled something out of the sack. It was a large box, but nothing like Nash had ever seen before. It was shaped like a woman on all fours. She was a solid piece of wood but every curve, every dimple and every inch of her wonderful body was carved with affectionate detail.
“I figured if anyone could get a box shaped like a woman to give up its secrets, it would be Nash Nighthammer.”
Later, alone in his room at the inn, Nash studied the box. He wasn’t about to try to open it with an audience. For one thing, he didn’t need Turnik’s good natured mocking as Nash tried and failed. More importantly, he didn’t want Turnik’s mocking if he opened it in a few seconds.
The strong warrior finished the last of his ale. He did have a knack with women. His broad shoulders and powerful muscles drew women to him easily. What people like Turnik never understood was that getting women as easy, knowing what to do once you have one is another adventure altogether. Nash was a warrior, but he was also a fast learner.
Nash examined the box. The wooden woman was on her hands and knees. Her heavy breasts hung down but with a Goddess’s firmness. The carved hair framed a face that looked stern. The legs appeared to be on hinges and Nash saw the scrapings of a hundred lockpicks trying to pry those legs apart.
The warrior sighed. Only a brute goes straight for the legs. He placed his hand on the back of the wooden women. He let his rough fingers lightly glide along the curve of her spine. Hands that could crush a skull between his palms were as delicate as feathers on the back of the carved woman.
The wood groaned as the back dipped.
Nash reached under the box and reached for her breasts. Instead of crushing the round wood, he gently stroked the breasts. The wood heaved in his hand but he kept stroking. With each stroke, the carved breasts seemed to get softer but the nipples became harder.
Turnik had offered him a share of whatever was in the box. He was a friend but he didn’t know Nash that well. Nash would have done this for free. Not even a magical wooden woman should go without.
He caressed the box but still it would not open. Nash wasn’t surprised.
“You are a pretty box,” he whispered. “The prettiest treasure chest I have ever seen. Won’t you please open for me, pretty box?”
The sound of cracking wood filled the small room. Nash looked to the legs but they were not moving. On a hunch, he checked the face. The stoic face was now smiling like a young woman.
“I don’t know who owned you before, but tonight I am glad you are mine,” Nash said.
A groan came from the box. The legs parted a mere inch.
“A box like you is a once in a lifetime adventure,” Nash said.
The box pressed back against his hands as the legs parted another inch.
“Damn, you are one sexy box,” Nash said.
The legs popped apart. Nash looked to see if there was an opening. There was, but it was not for a potion or a gem. This opening had hair, drops of moisture and a smell that was unmistakable.
Stopping now was unthinkable. He didn’t know if magic wooden chests had feelings, but he knew nothing should know rejection. He stood up and pulled his cock out of his loincloth.
It was a perfect fit. Nash wasn’t surprised. He was a little surprised how warm it was. He was very surprised with how wet it was. It was amazing what you could do with magic in this age.
Nash fucked the wooden box. The oddity of the situation did not occur to him. She may have been made of wood and strange mystical powers but she had needs. Nash was a warrior but at his heart he loved to aid those in need.
It also was a really hot box.
Nash climaxed. He didn’t know if the box climaxed. As soon as his seed left him, the back of the box opened. Inside was a scroll.
Nash kept fucking. The box groaned its pleasure. Only when the box became cold to his touch did he pull out.
He picked up the scroll. It was a map. More than likely it led to some secret treasure guarded by devious traps. Turnik would ask him to come along and help carry the loot. There might even be an epic battle or two waiting for them.
Nash looked down at the box. The legs were closed again. The face was smiling and the eyes were closed. He may have retrieved the map, but Nash was prouder that the box was happy.
Nash himself didn’t know where his talent with women came from. It never occurred to him that he was good with women because he treated each one of them like they were a rare treasure.