TF (appliances)

My wife was sitting around looking at her phone and chuckling to herself.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“It’s my sister Barbara. You should check out her Instagram!” Cynthia shoved the phone in front of my face. There was a photo of Barbara, but not as I knew her. Her nose was an animal’s, her front teeth were bulging out of her mouth, her cheeks were pumped up and her face was lightly covered with brown fur.

Under the photo was a caption: “Turning into a squirrel! Hope my husband hides his nuts!”

I chuckled too, I have to admit. “Your sister is so damned crazy.”

“You should see her when she’s a dog,” Cynthia laughed. “She keeps chasing her own tail until she’s dizzy.” Then, as casually as she could, she said: “Hey, did I tell you she sent me a few more bottles of transformation serum?”

I pricked up my ears. “Being a vacuum cleaner gave you a taste for it, huh?”

“Not just a vacuum cleaner. Don’t forget I was also a hairdryer and an electric razor,” she said dreamily.

Now, you might say “what’s so great about being an appliance?” and Cynthia would be ready for you. Being a different shape. Having insides made of metal and transistors. Being useful. Best of all, using electricity. It was so damned sexy.

And hey, having been a microwave oven myself, I agreed with her.

“So,” I said with a wink, “what were you considering?”

“Well, I know it sounds a bit crazy, but I was reading in the living room last night using the table lamp and … well, I kind of got jealous.”

“You want to be a table lamp?”

“Not the lamp, no …”

*

Cynthia was standing stark naked in the living room. I was enjoying the view. She spotted me checking out her ass and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, honey, I can’t help it. You’re just so curvy.”

“Well, keep watching, Frank, because I’m about to get a lot curvier.” Cynthia picked up the bottle of transformation serum from the coffee table and took a big slug. “Oh, cherry flavour. Reminds me of cough medicine.”

“Those things never worked.”

“Well, this one sure does! I can feel it tingling through me.”

As I watched, my wife began to rapidly shrink. As she did, her chest and head seemed to fuse together, then blow up further. Her legs were fusing together, then turning silver. Weirdest of all, she began to grow transparent.

By the time she’d finished her transformation, she was completely clear. I picked Cynthia, now about five inches tall, off the floor.

“Well, you did it, baby,” I said. “You’re a lightbulb.”

Cynthia’s eyes and mouth appeared on the front of the bulb. “This feels amazing! Check out my filament, Frank!”

I chuckled and gazed at the delicate wires inside my wife. “They’re beautiful.”

“Being see-through … man, I never thought that would be so … intoxicating. Well, honey, just don’t stand there. Screw me in!”

I took Cynthia over to the table lamp. I quickly unscrewed the bulb inside it before replacing it with my wife. “You might want to take your eyes away when I turn you on. I don’t want to blind you.”

“I’m not sure I can be blinded like this,” Cynthia said. Still, her eyes vanished, leaving just her mouth.

When my wife first started changing into appliances, I was afraid running electricity through her would hurt her, or even kill her. She had to point out to me that when she changed she was no longer human, she was a machine, and machines needed power. So I didn’t hesitate to flick the lamp switch.

“Ready, honey? Here it comes …” And i turned the lamp on.

Cynthia’s filament lit up, throwing strong light through the room. I couldn’t look at the bulb directly, but then, I didn’t have to. My wife kept a running commentary.

“Oh! Oh! The electricity - it feels so good!”

“Does it hurt, babe?”

“Not at all. It’s like the best orgasm ever. And it never stops! Oh my God, it’s amazing!”

“Let me know when you want me to turn you off.”

“Turn me off?! Frank, please leave me on all night!”

*

When I woke up the next day and went downstairs, Cynthia was still on. And still buzzing.

“Uh, wow!”

“Still feels good?”

“Oh, believe it! I thought being a vacuum cleaner was good, but a lightbulb … it’s the best thing ever!”

“Well, I hate to be a spoilsport, but you’re going to change back soon. I should probably unscrew you.”

“Frank, don’t you dare turn me off. Don’t worry, when I change back I’ll just be standing next to the lamp.”

“Sure, babe. Although, aren’t we kind of wasting electricity?”

“Believe me, honey, this is not - ah! - a waste.”

*

A couple of days later Cynthia came up to me when I was working on my laptop.

“Watcha doing, Frank?”

“Working on a report. You seem in a good mood.”

“I was just remembering how fantastic it was to be a lightbulb.”

“Amazing something that simple could give so much pleasure.”

“Simple?” Cynthia said in mock-anger.

“Well, it’s hardly a laptop.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right …”

*

Watching my wife turn into a perfect silver rectangle was even more bizarre than watching her become a transparent bulb.

“I think my arms and legs are shrinking into my body.”

“Yeah, they’re almost gone … there they go …”

“I’m almost done … flip me up, Frank.”

I opened Cynthia’s two halves and pressed her power button, to her coos of pleasure.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“So completely different to being a hairdryer or vacuum cleaner. So … modern.”

“You’re mostly circuit boards inside you now.”

“Please type something on me, honey.”

I opened Pages and began typing nonsense. Cynthia began giggling.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can feel what you’re typing!”

“Like, me banging away on the keyboard?”

“No, the actual words - they’re like emotions to me. It’s like I’m experiencing them as they go into my memory.”

“Try this one.” And I typed “I love you”.

“Aw, that makes me feel so good.”

“Wait till I use Google.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing!”

I opened up a few websites - Facebook, YouTube, Amazon.

“God! It’s like I know everything!”

I hesitated over the keyboard.

“Frank, don’t you dare open Pornhub.”

“Who, me?” I said as innocently as possible.

Damn.

*

It was the afternoon of the big game. I sat back in my chair, opened a beer and stared at our TV.

Our tiny 26-inch TV.

“Cyn?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you do me a favour?”

“Sure!”

*

I whooped with delight. My team scored again! Oh, this was wonderful. I was enjoying every detail.

Every detail on the 64-inch screen in front of me.

“They scored again?”

“You know it, baby.”

And for a second Cynthia’s features appeared in the very centre of the screen.

“Can I just say how amazing being a television this big is?”

“You’re welcome to stay this way all the way through the finals.”

“Well, at least you’re paying attention to me,” she grinned.

*

Cynthia showed me the bottle of transformation serum.

“Almost gone?”

“Yep, and I have a suggestion …”

*

“Oh, I love my husband!” Cynthia trilled. “He’s so big, and strong, and cold …”

She ran her hand over my surface.

“And he has an ice water dispenser just built right into him.”

“Just for you, babe.”

Being a refrigerator was the best. Practically every time Cynthia came into the kitchen, she used me. Best of all, I was always plugged in, always running.

I’d have to change back some time soon, but until then, man, I’ll take every bit of electricity I could.