FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You know, I'm different than other guys. In a lot of ways. Let's start off small, I guess. Plenty of habits I take for granted might seem surreal to other people. Take, for instance, sleeping. I know plenty of people who can hit the sack and be down in an instant flat, waking up a solid eight hours later with a hearty yawn and heavy energy. Not me, though. I'm one of those night owls who finds excuses to stay up to one, two, even three o'clock in the morning. Even when I do get to bed early, I'm a tosser--a turner. It's not unusual for me to wake up a couple of times a night. More than once I've had to go on a milk raid at four-thirty in the morning.

So yeah. I have weird sleep habits compared to other people. Other stuff that makes me different? Well, I do get fucked by my fridge from time to time.

Hey, c'mon. Gimme a break. I said it was unusual. Not my fault you didn't realize I wasn't exaggerating. But you know? Sometimes I wonder if my late-night habits and my fridge-fucking might not just have something in common.

Look, just take this as an example. The first time I had a fridge adventure. It's a typical night for me. I'm up late on the computer, the blue light searing my eyeballs. I know it's supposed to be bad for you, but what're you gonna do? So I get a little thirsty (no, not that kind of thirsty--even if, sure, the story kinda goes that way eventually) and I head downstairs to the kitchen for some milk.

Along the way, I inadvertently get Watt's attention and he follows me. Oh, Watt? Guy's a fun-loving little trickster and my pokemon partner. He's the best Rotom ever. (Yeah yeah, I know Rotom are technically sexless--but listen. Nobody who's seen the verve with which that little spirit conjures up an ectoplasmic member should have any doubts as to his gender identity.) Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I love the little guy.

Turns out, he loves me too. Yeah. In that way. I was surprised at first, but I've grown to enjoy reciprocating. Still kinda weird--in a good way--to let him take the reins, though.

Where was I...

Right--Watt's following me. I can hear him buzzing and crackling as he follows down the hall. His luminous body fills the darkened halls with a watery yellow glow. Looking back, I shoulda realized something was afoot when that glow suddenly vanished. I figured he'd gone back to bed in some power outlet or something. Silly me--Watt's never missed a chance to play with his trainer.

So I open the fridge and already I can tell that something's amiss. The milk carton's all busted. And like recently, you know? Not just last day or last hour. We're talking seconds. Some of it is still dripping off the shelf. Even weirder, the cream is all empty too.

I'm left scratching my head, picking up empty cartons and wondering what the hell is going on, when whaddaya know--Watt shows himself. His telltale electric hum starts emanating out of the fridge, and the entire appliance gets a coppery orange makeover as he seizes control of it. His face--way bigger than I'm used to, but still mischievous and undeniably interested in me--plasters itself over the top of the fridge, those big oval eyes and wide grinning mouth taking command. The fridge doors detach, hovering in the air under power of Watt's purple energy--part ectoplasm, part electric. Little guy's real talented, you know? Like, he takes an appliance as complex as a fridge--and seriously, give one of those a real looking at sometime; there's a lot going on--and just makes it him. Everything gets simplified. Icemakers and water dispensers get smoothed over. The whole thing just unplugs and floats around. It's actually like... real neat. Cool.

(Okay, look, I'm trying to avoid just coming right out and saying that seeing one of my appliances turn orange and float around with Watt's familiar features on it is hot but like... it's neat! Alright?)

Watt can do basically anything he wants with an appliance; he can even change its shape and appearance, and by the end it'll be back to normal like nothing bad ever happened. Doors'll be a-fixed, appliance will be right back in place, and nothing untoward will ever show on it.

Can't, uh, say the same about the food though.

My shock at seeing Watt take over the fridge quickly fades into a kind of exasperation. "Buddy," I tell him, "this is cute, but what'd you do with the milk? The cream?"

Dunno what I was expecting in response, to be honest, but here's what happens:

He chuckles, the sound distorted and glitchy as it always is, and then, that same impish grin on his face, the freezer on bottom of the fridge pushes out.

Nestled in the bottom is a sphere of ectoplasmic energy, containing all the missing cream and milk inside.

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at it. The mixed milk and cream slosh together, tumbling over itself as the sphere of ectoplasm hovers, slowly spinning, in the freezer.

"Really, Watt?" I ask. "What's this about?"

That same glitchy laugh rolls out of him and then, suddenly, it starts.

The violet sphere starts shaking and trembling. I raise my voice in wordless astonishment as Watt's weird prank starts messing up the rest of the food in the freezer. Cartons of food, bags of frozen veggies, and trays of ice cubes all rattle as they're shunted out of the way by the growing sphere. As I watch, small tendrils of purple energy snake out and pop the lid off the top of an ice cream carton. The succulent treat inside gets absorbed back into the sphere, the ice cream melting partially to swell the creamy liquid inside even more.

But Watt still isn't finished. The sphere, swollen with the addition of the ice cream, suddenly reshapes itself into another, newer form.

What, I'm blushing? I can't help it, alright? The form is pretty familiar. Two big pouches, hanging low and cupping white fluid within them, they almost look like...

Okay, look. I'm not gonna mince words here. Watt's making himself some balls.

And if that's not enough, then a few seconds later, he decides to up the ante. The top of his ecto equipment bulges up and then, well...

Let's just say that just because Watt's a little guy in his normal form doesn't mean he can't boast a big, big package.

His ghostly dick, shimmering with the same violet energy as the rest of him, shot up--and up. I mean, look. It's huge. Like, bigger than my entire torso. That kinda big. And girthy, too. Quite the eyecatcher.

It stands at attention, big and bulging, and then the creamy mixture in Watt's balls slowly starts trickling up, finally reaching the top and beading right out at the tip.

"S-Seriously?" I yelp. Before I can do anything, I feel the refrigerator doors--or, better said, Watt's makeshift hands--on my back, slowly pulling me forward. Watt chuckles again, the sound still light-pitched despite his newfound massiveness, and his member pulses suggestively as he pushes me against it.

I mean, look. This isn't exactly my first rodeo with the guy. What can I say? I like his impishness--the way he is unapologetically interested in me, and how he chases that interest down.

But regardless of how many times I've gotten frisky with my Rotom, letting him do me while he's possessing my fridge--and teasing me with a mixture of my own food nonetheless--is something I'm not exactly used to.

But hey. No time like the present, right?

And true, I'm not so sure at first--I can feel myself blushing from here to the sun. I glance up, my cheeks burning, and take size of Watt's newly-conjured dick. It's purple and translucent and on the other side, I can still see his widely grinning face, distorted through the ectoplasm. By now the original form of my fridge is almost indiscernible; he's smoothed it out, colored it that appealing orangey color of his, and he's even detached from the wall, hovering slightly over the floor.

That uniqueness--his uniqueness--is part of what appeals to me so much, and that damn infectious grin of his is a big part of that. But more than that, I can see the soft rosy glow under his eyes. Maybe fridges can't blush, but Rotom can. Watt was burning with affection, and that was really all I needed to overcome my hesitation.

"A-alright," I stutter out as he pushes his member against my face. I wonder who's blushing more, me or him. "Alright, Watt, I'll just... uh..." I kneel down, pull my head up, and lap tenderly at the small bead of milk and cream at his tip. The mixture is succulent and creamy, and more than a little sweet thanks to the ice cream. But what's more than that, there's a distinct aftertaste--kinda metallic, and leaving a sensation in my mouth that can best be described as the same feeling that pop rocks leave when you eat them.

I'm no stranger to that taste, of course. It's Watt's ectoplasm.

I gulp down the creamy mixture, delighting in its taste, and Watt buzzes with pleasure. Then I start blowing him proper.

His member's far too big for me to take the whole thing in my mouth, so I have to make do with just sucking in the very tip--but he's more than okay with that. He buzzes with delight, the fridge dancing around the air a bit, and more of the creamy mixture squirts out into my mouth. I gulp it down eagerly, lapping at the tip and tracing small circles around it with my tongue. Direct contact with the ectoplasm leaves my mouth buzzing with a staticy electric thrill, and I quiver with delight. It's an acquired taste, but after spending so much time with Watt--letting him hold me and fuck me; taking whatever he conjures into my mouth or whatever other hole he desires--I've found that I crave this distinct flavor more than I would ever care to admit.

I pick up my pace, kissing and teasing my tongue around him even as I eagerly gulp down more and more of Watt's luscious cream. I can feel it running down my throat and settling in my tummy, delivering small aftershocks of the ectoplasmic sensation even there, and I find myself gyrating my hips almost as second nature, completely unable to deal with the growing fire in my loins. My cock is quickly firming up, swelling with pleasure as I play Watt's game.

Hey, look. Most people just don't get it. Watt and I are partners--in so many senses of the word. He's my partner because sometimes he encourages me to suck him off in the dead of night and it leaves me crazy hard. But he's also my partner because when I feel his makeshift hands pushing against me, I lean safely back into them even as the fridge doors push me closer, 'cuz I know the little guy has my back. He knows me and knows what I can handle, and so I let him cradle me against his massive cock, both of us blushing up a storm--his delighted, stuttering voice buzzing happily in the air as a counterpoint to the gasps and gulps that fill the kitchen as I attend to him.

By now I've been hard for a good long while, and I start trailing kisses down his member. The sensation of it is unlike normal flesh--it's firm, but also far more pliant than any real cock could be, and impossibly smooth, too. My kisses make him shudder with delight, and his voice keens even higher in pitch. His member twitches slightly, spurting some of the creamy mixture--and without my mouth to catch it, it sprays across my back and the kitchen.

"Careful," I say, chiding gently and without malice. "You've already made enough of a mess, don't you think?" Truthfully, this little spurt is nothing--on the other side of his see-through member, I can see the fridge, the food getting jostled around more and more as we go on and Watt indulges his need to wriggle around with delight and excitement.

But hey, I don't blame the little guy. I'm having a fucking blast myself.

By now I'm so fucking hard that I'm forcing groans out between my teeth. I brace myself against Watt's member with one hand while I use the other to tease out of my pants and underwear as fast as I can manage. They lie forgotten in a heap on the floor as soon as I'm free, and I use my hand to grasp my own cock, moaning as I pump it vigorously back and forth. I'm at full mast and even though my own member is dwarfed in size by Watt's incredible display, all I can think of is pleasuring myself.

But Watt, thankfully, drags me back to reality. He pushes me even firmer against his cock, and the tip actually bends down slightly towards my mouth. I attach myself to it with even more vigor than before, moaning and grunting as I lap and suck at him, keeping tempo with the beat with which I'm pleasuring myself. Watt's buzzing with delight, his voice high and intermittent, and I can see his eyes flashing a brighter purple than usual. I'm gulping down more and more of the creamy mixture, feeling it settle and rest flush in my belly; the new weight takes some getting used to but soon becomes oddly comforting. It's a reminder of just how much Watt has to give me.

Eventually Watt's voice reaches a fever pitch, and I have only a moment's warning before he gasps and sprays out the rest of the creamy mix in orgasm. I gulp down as much as I can, luxuriating his member with my mouth, but eventually even I have to lean back, watching in awe as he sprays the rest of his makeshift cum across the kitchen. Maybe in a different time I would be a bit miffed, but for now I'm just transfixed.

"Good boy," I grunt, leaning back. All that milk and cream in my belly is weighing me down and making me dozy. "Good little ghost... now just sit tight while your trainer finishes himself, 'k?"

And y'know what? That was my plan--let myself cum too and deal with the rest after.

But Watt's got a different idea. Buzzing with excitement--still moving jerkily while grappling with the aftershocks of his own orgasm--he nudges me with the fridge doors, maneuvering me onto my hands and knees.

I play along even as my mind dances with wonder. He's not really--does he think I can--?

Well, let me drop a little spoiler alert for you: he is, and he does.

Humming glitchily, Watt's member--no longer packing that creamy mixture, but back to its imposing state--angles itself near my ass. I feel my cheeks burning even deeper as the realization sets in.

"Buddy," I say, "look, I know I've taken you before, but this is a bit much, isn't it?" The fridge hovers in the air, still bearing his blushing face, and he buzzes lower and smoother--a sound I've long recognized as being his version of a comforting coo.

Ah. I get it. I made him cum--he only wants to return the favor. The ectoplasm around his dick temporarily wriggles a bit before firming up again, reminding me of its pliability.

My heart pounding in my chest--cause like... if I can pull this off, it'll feel like nothing less than heaven. I finally give into the dual feeling of my own craving and my trust for Watt and nod slowly. "Alright, just--start slow, okay buddy?"

He buzzes in affirmation and I turn my head forward-facing again, bracing myself.

I feel his member teasing at my hole, and it slowly, slooooooowly nudges its way in even as I grunt. It's barely the tip and already it's as big as anything I've ever had. I force myself to go through the familiar motions I've learned when taking him: dropping my tension, pushing out to ease it coming in, all of it. But even as his cock sends pleasure galloping through my body--more than I would know what to do with--I still find myself reeling over the sheer size of it all.

"H-Hold up, Watt, j-just wait a sec," I force out, panting. He complies immediately, holding in me. I lay there, my chest and cheek pressed against the floor, gasping for air. My cock is impossibly hard; I can feel it throbbing against my stomach, a tiny pearl of pre beading at the tip.

After a few minutes, I affirm to Watt that he has my permission to continue, and he complies, forcing in even farther. I groan at the sensation. The massive, pliant ectoplasm is spreading me farther than I ever knew a man could be spread, and the sheer presence of it all sends me into a daze. I let my mind reel, lost in the bliss, until I chance to look down at myself.

Dunno what I expected, to be honest, from taking in such a massive cock. I should have guessed it. But for whatever reason, it didn't hit me until I saw it full-on.

His cock-bulge is distending me. I can see its outline in my stomach.

Watt mistakes my sudden intake of breath for hesitation and immediately stops pushing in, a querying buzz wafting through the kitchen air. I don't answer immediately, instead staring wide-eyed at the way my body is accommodating him.

"...holy shit," I whisper.

A few moments of silence pass before Watt repeats his questioning chirp, and I blink and turn my attention to him. And I can't help but chuckle; under his control, my fridge was bending in impossible ways as he bent over, protective and concerned of me, his trainer--his partner.

It's actually really cute.

"Hey Watt," I breath, my voice still airy from arousal and the sensation of being so impossibly, massively filled. He tilts his head sideways, his big oval eyes blinking.

I turn my head back and brace myself. "Don't hold back, buddy. Just fuck me already."

A triumphant, electronic trill fills the air and then--

And then--

Holy fucking shit.

He fucking plows right into me and my voice catches, splitting the air with a high scream of pure, utter, blissful delight. His member is so big, so fucking big, but the ectoplasm ensures it is pliable and smooth, and despite its size it slides forward comfortably and without a hitch. Before long Watt is buried in me as deep as he can get and I feel my body bulging around the shape of his cock. All along its length, the telltale static sensation of ectoplasmic energy dances up and down, sending my nerves crazy in delight as the feeling stimulates me. He chirps high and then slides his cock partway out--and then slams back in, even harder before.

I cum.

My voice hitches higher, and higher, and then suddenly fails me as sheer orgasmic joy fills my body like sunbursts, incredible delight soaking into every pore and fiber. For the moment, I am just a vessel for Watt to fill with his affection, and he is bringing me so much joy that part of me thinks I just might melt. The feeling of my own orgasm is the perfect complement to the sensation of him rutting me, and amidst the mountain's worth of ecstasy that leaves my mouth hanging open with delight, I am only dimly aware of my own cock throbbing and pulsing against my stomach, squeezing out spurt after spurt of warm jizz.

Noticing my cum, Watt trills a high note of appreciation before picking up the pace, filling my ass more and more, rutting me harder and harder, and every push is like an aftershock following an earthquake, filling my body with more and more orgasmic delight even as my own cock still throbs, squeezing out the last drops of my cum. A mixture of sounds fills the air: Watt's proud, jubilant buzz; the jostling sound of what remains of the food inside the fridge getting bounced around and spilling on the floor as Watt energetically plows me; my own voice, filling the room with begging cries: "Oh fuck Watt--yes--aaaaahnnn, please--please, Watt--harder--m-more, Watt--you're a g-good boy! Such a good b-boy!"

I scream it out at the top of my lungs, no heed for volume or for time.

Like, jeez. What the neighbors must've thought.

Watt's voice chirps a second time, high and stuttering, almost like EDM music, and then I feel the cock inside of me pulse, and I brace myself, and then he is cumming, cumming, cumming in me, and my voice rises high in jubilation as he floods me with thin, liquid ectoplasm, his ghost juice absolutely brimming in me, and the staticy pop rock sensation is dancing everywhere inside and my vision haloes and I collapse into a cooing, shuddering, ecstatic mess, all because my Rotom fucked my ass so hard that I lost all clarity of thought.

My senses slowly ebb back, and I become dimly aware that Watt, still possessing the fridge, is cuddling up to me. His eyes have paled into an almost soft lavender, and his ectoplasmic cock, freshly removed from my ass, has deflated into a smaller size. There's food strewn about everywhere, and I chuckle ruefully, giving it all up as a lost cause.

(But seriously, can I just say? For a lay that good, go ahead and empty it any time. I can always buy more groceries.)

Both of us are spent, totally exhausted, but Watt musters the energy to take the fridge doors and half scoop, half cradle me against himself. His body--or, well, "body"--isn't cold but a pleasant warm, and I huddle against it, basking in comfort. "Hey buddy," I say, and he trills high and holds me even closer. Both of us pass quite some time like that, letting ourselves be awash in the afterglow, cuddling close.

Watt's taken a number of shapes over our various, erm, escapades, but the fridge is the first that actually matches me in size, let alone towers over me. Cuddling up to him in such a big form is unusual, yet also comforting. His voice escapes the appliance in a low whirr that reminds me of someone sighing, and I feel the aftereffects of sex in me as well, the sweet and sleep-giving ache that comes from having a particularly good fuck.

"Hey bud?" I murmur, feeling my eyelids start to droop. He chirps in response. "Let's do this again, huh?"

He chirps again in the affirmative, and then we both trail off into blissful quiet.

So, uh, that's the story. And I mean... yeah. I know that most people, even pokephiles, would probably look askance at a guy who fucks his fridge. (Or, uh, gets fucked by his fridge, but at that point I figure this is, you know. Semantics.) But since then, me and Watt have gotten closer than ever. The fridge is his favorite form to take, and we have lots of misadventures. He's even getting better at not ruining all the food, though truth be told, the sheer wackiness of trying to see him get his freak on while not spilling last night's leftovers is part of the appeal of this whole thing. Overall, though, I don't regret it for the world.

Just do me a favor? Never ask how long it took to clean up that fucking kitchen.