Jason just can't wrap his mind around it. Oh he's seeing it. It's fucking impossible NOT to see, not when each and every toy (56 of them, to be exact) is carefully displayed on Timmy's burgundy bedspread. His own collection, which he'd pulled out when Jason had expressed a desire to "spice things up a bit." The dildos he can handle, mostly. The one that is a realistic arm with a closed fist is just not going to register in his brain, because if it did, there's not enough mental bleach in existence to get it out.

But even that is tame. The whips and paddles are impressive, some even looking like they would easily maim the person on the receiving end if the wielder wasn't VERY careful. And the restraints. Holy fuck! Half of them he couldn't even understand how they'd fit! And the ones he could figure out (like the cock and ball cage with the attached urethral sound) are making him cringe. Only on the inside of course. No way is he letting the kid know that he's WAYYYYY out of his depth here.

He reaches out to stroke the smooth metal surface of a very large anal hook. "It's the quiet ones," he mutters to himself. "Have to watch out for the quiet ones. They are the biggest fucking pervs..."

Jason can feel Timmy behind him, watching and. That's NOT stewing. It's closer to amused, maybe.

"I find that logic highly suspect, Jason," the teen says. When Jason looks, the boy's arms are crossed and he looks cutely pissy, except that he's really not. Yeah, go with amused. "YOU are not remotely 'quiet' and I seem to recall you tying me up. Spanking me. Putting a cock ring on me..."

Jason's lips twitch at the memories and yeah, okay, maybe Timmy has a point. Maybe he could broaden his horizons. Maybe...

"Show me your favourite toy, Baby Bird." The smile widens. Learning new things is never a bad idea after all.