FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When Leander shuts the door, it's with a weary sigh. There were long days and then there were long days, and today was definitely the latter.

Grunting, he stretches, feeling the weariness snap through his body like a creaking branch. Thankfully for how active today was, tomorrow is the start of a three-day weekend, and he plans to rest and recuperate.

Feeling a bit peckish, he wanders into his kitchen and opens his fridge, pulling out a carton of juice. As he swigs away, he feels the telltale buzz--like a spark of static--nibbling at his thigh. Watt, his Rotom and his oldest companion, has made the leap from his phone to the fridge itself.

The appliance transforms as Watt asserts himself. The smooth metal exterior takes on an orange hue, Watt's telltale grinning face covering it, and a nimbus of purple energy leads the doors and drawers to maneuver independently as if they're arms and legs. Watt has gotten more practiced at avoiding making a mess, but there's still the familiar clunk of food getting knocked around and contents spilling from drawers. Leander finds himself wanting to sigh--was this yet another mess he'd have to clean up?

Yet it was hard to blame the little pokemon. Watt hops up against him, nuzzling and cooing in that beeped-out, glitchy voice of his, the fridge doors caressing him like hands. Leander's not a small guy, but there's a sense of vulnerability when Watt takes over the fridge; the appliance is big and heavy. As the doors cradle him closer, Leander blushes. Vulnerability cut two ways, and as he's cradled by Watt, he knows what his Rotom is trying to say to him: that he is safe and could leave everything to Watt. The blush deepened. Watt truly was affectionate.

With a forward, friendly chirp, the Rotom manifests a small, tubelike tendril of ectoplasm. The apparition dances forward, trailing out to caress Leander's cheek; its touch is both cool and staticky, the intermingling sensations making him shudder. Then with a quiet shudder, Leander opens his mouth and lets the tendril push inside.

The feeling of it is familiar and comforting. This isn't the first time Watt's had him, far from it; Leander's had ectoplasm in almost every hole imaginable. The staticky feeling spreads on the inside of his mouth like pop rocks and Leander moans and then sucks the tendril, shuddering as tiny droplets of ectoplasm bead off like dew. He shudders and his body tenses as he gulps it down.

More of Watt's tendrils manifest and they coil about him, easily slipping snakelike under pant legs and dipping underneath his collar. They wind around his waist, stroke the curve of his ass, trace his collarbone and caress his pecs. Perhaps it's the nature of ghosts and spirits, but Watt seems especially fascinated by the human form and loves exploring his trainer's body.

The gooey tendril in Leander's mouth probes further, and the trainer tilts his head accommodatingly, relaxing his throat and letting Watt in. He can't see himself, but he can imagine his throat bulging, his copper skin working as he surrenders his body to his pokemon. Watt warbles out a glitchy song and Leander can imagine the intent behind it: I know you had a rough day, so let's end it with something fun, 'k?

The tendrils surrounding his body grip him tight and raise him off the floor, and Leander closes his eyes and gives himself over to Watt's ministrations. The ectoplasm winds its way through his fingers, reaches up to smear his hair, coils playfully around his inner thigh--to say nothing of the one currently occupying his throat. It plumbs deeper and deeper, twisting its way inside him like a corkscrew, and Leander is awash with how intimately he is yielding to it. If he focuses he can feel his throat bulging out, further and further with every one of Watt's plumping thrusts, his body alight with the staticky feeling of ectoplasm, the sense of it dancing down inside him.

The tryst is short and gentle by Watt's standards, and after a few luscious minutes the Rotom stutters out a high, glitching note. The tendril in Leander's throat pulls back, leaving the interior sweetly sore and somewhat empty, and then it tenses and liquid splashes inside of him. It's sweet; whenever he possesses the fridge, Watt always makes use of the contents. His 'cum' is ectoplasm-tinged milk and cream, and the cool sweetness of it soothes Leander's throat as he gulps it down. Leander himself cums from the sensation, feeling his tenting cock straining against his underwear, staining it with his emission. He'd have to put that in to wash.

Afterwards, his stomach feeling heavy and settled with cream, the trainer blinks sleepily as Watt lowers him and cradles him against his possessed body. The humming whirr of the fridge is both audible and even tangible as Leander leans against it. Ah... he really does love this. Watt coos and one of the fridge drawers drifts down on a crest of energy to settle against his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. You had a long day, it seems to say. You deserve this.

Leander agrees: he did deserve this. After cuddling with Watt for a few minutes, he rises with a yawn, feeling sleepy. With amusement, the trainer notes that Watt is fully dozing off, the hum of the fridge interlaced with his own glitchy voice as he snoozes. It seemed that taking the reins had proved a bit demanding for the Ghost-type. Well, Leander didn't mind at all. That duality on Watt's part--how forward he could be one minute, and how quiet and meek he could be the next--is a big part of why Leander likes him so much.

Leander casts a level eye about the kitchen; the mess was comparatively smaller than before, he notes. Even today, it seemed Watt had reined in his impulses. With a shake of his head, Leander resolves to clean it tomorrow. He's just too tired at the moment. He steps out of the kitchen to leave Watt to his slumber, planning to wash off and then retire early to a much-deserved rest.

Little does he know that the night has more restlessness in store for him.

As he turns the L-shaped hallway leading from the kitchen to his room, a coo catches his attention and then a coy form peeks her head around the corner. Fraise, his Alcremie.

She's far different than most others of her species. Most Alcremie spend their days as an enchanted pile of humanoid crème, with a lucky few seizing on Dynamax power to assume the form of a gigantic cake. Fraise, for whatever reason, preferred the cake form, and after tremendous amounts of work on her part, she is now able to assume the confectionary form round-the-clock, albeit at a far smaller scope; she stands about a half-foot taller than Leander himself.

"Hey girl," Leander says with a smile. He's not shy or embarrassed that she caught him post-coitus with Watt; most of his team knows how intimate he gets with his oldest partner. "Had a long day..."

With a sympathetic chirp, the confection hops out into the hall. Leander has to admit, while the average trainer who fawned over the likes of Gardevoir or Lopunny or Infernape would probably look askance, to him she was quite cute. The broad, spongy yellow cake that forms her base is larger even than a couch cushion; a second tier, creamy and berry flavored, sits atop it. Frosting girds around her in a ribbon-like pattern, clasped tight with a green, clover-shaped candy. The layer above that is blue, boasting a different type of berry, and the next one bedecked in orange-pink frosting and speckled with heart patterns. Each later is separated by a spray of thick, lush cream, white frosting accentuating the edges. At the very top is Fraise herself, a thick-bodied, feminine figure made of thick cream. Her body is white, and drapes of blue frosting cover her form like a dress; a loose ribbon, crowned with a succulent strawberry, sits atop the waves of her creamlike 'hair.'

As Fraise hops out, she eyes her trainer with interest. Leander wonders just how much she can tell; does she pick up on his weariness from a long day? Does she share his desire to lounge about over his coming long weekend?

The Alcremie approaches him and sweeps him into a hug, which Leander reciprocates with a laugh. The embrace covers him in cream and frosting, but he's been left pretty messy by Watt anyways, and he's long learned to indulge in his team's unique displays of affection. (It didn't take long for him to start exclusively buying clothes that were stain-resistant and easily washable.) He hugs back, her body soft and pliant, unlike Watt's refrigerator form; both squishy and vaguely warm.

"Thanks, girl," he says. "Gotta admit, given how stressful work's been lately, having you guys to come home to is always something to look forward to." He tries to pull away but Fraise insistently refuses to break her embrace, keeping him held tight, and he resigns himself to her comfort with a smile.

After a minute or two of hugging him, Fraise pulls back a bit. The Alcremie's cream-sculpted face is twisted in confusion, and she sniffs audibly. The cake bends at an impossible angle as she bends over near her trainer's groin.

Blushing, Leander tries to swat her away. "Ah, that's... yeah, me and Watt... well, you know," he finishes lamely. "He shows affection in his own way, yeah?"

Fraise chirps again. Oh, she is well aware of the bond that existed between Watt and their trainer. It was close and physical--and truth be told, she found herself a mite jealous of it! Why did Watt get to have all the fun, hmmm? The Rotom had made the first move on Leander, to which their trainer had reciprocated--she decides it's time to follow Watt's lead and see if she can take her relationship to the next step. Besides, if her trainer was as drained from work as she suspected he was, then a little invigoration could never hurt, right?

Leander's blush deepens as his pokemon reaches her delicate little hands down to his hastily-buttoned trousers and tries undoing them. "Hey--Fraise, hold on a minute, you--aw, dammit..."

His protestations break off into a curse as his attempts to shoo her away inadvertently assist her. Fraise looks delighted as his trousers drop. What is on display is a set of solid-colored boxers atop smooth, strong tan legs. The underwear cloth is discolored in front from his past tryst with Watt, and the fragrant scent of semen permeates the hall.

"Fraise, really, this isn't--ah!" Leander's voice skips in surprise as his Alcremie surges forward, her cakelike body malleably parting around him. He finds himself partially absorbed in her body, his limbs almost fully, his torso with the front half; only his head is completely free. Leander's voice skips as he feels Fraise wriggling around him, the spongy feeling of the cake rubbing against his flesh and leaving goosebumps. The Alcremie dips her head low to rest against his shoulder, warbling happily, and Leander finds himself panting from her attentions. Given his history with Watt, he's rather used to unfamiliar sensations--ectoplasm coating his body, ghost-possessed milk pouring down his throat. Still, this is the first time he's ever had his physique explored by cake of all things.

He swallows dryly as despite his recent orgasm, he can feel himself starting to tent again. The cake gives way around his member and he can feel Fraise quivering with delight, her voice rising high. Leander rolls his head aside and locks gazes with her. She has a starry look to her eyes.

Leander's spent enough time fucking Watt to know what this sort of behavior in a pokemon means. He almost can't believe it. "You too, Fraise?" he says as she warbles happily in response. "Damn, I gotta attract all the horniest pokemon..." His voice breaks off as he feels the cake around his loins compress, stiffening as if it was baked suddenly in an oven. The sensation is rather like having a woman squeeze down around him. Leander tenses and half-sags into Fraise despite himself.

"F-fuck," he groans, his voice strained. "So two members of my team want to fuck me..." He swallows again and looks up at Fraise. The situation with her is increasingly becoming similar to his first time with Watt--he'd never really felt attraction towards his fridge before Watt put the moves on him, but the pokemon's eager forwardness had an attraction all its own. Likewise, while Leander hadn't ever looked at Fraise that way before, seeing her attraction to him is doing a number on him, and he quickly finds himself growing amenable to the idea. It's doubtful Watt would mind; pokemon are not known to engage in widespread monogamy, with both wild and trained pokemon known for having multiple partners. And Fraise clearly wants this...

And to his surprise, Leander finds he does too.

"Alright then," he says. "If you really want to, I'll... I'll fuck my own cake." Fraise's voice rises high and cheerfully in response, and from his position inside her dessertlike form, Leander feels ribbons of cream and frosting traveling through it. The succulent fluid coalesces around his groin, and then with a surprising level of dexterity (rather like that of Watt's ectoplasm, now that he thinks about it) the tendrils of frosting manage to tug his boxers down. Fraise shudders for a moment and then her broad lower body actually spits them out to slap stickily against the floor.

Now his manhood is inside her proper. More of her frosting winds around his member, tight and coiling and squeezing, and Leander leans against her bulk with an appreciative moan. More of the sticky substance drifts down to his balls, cupping and raising them, playing with them, and the feeling is frankly delightful. The malleability and level of control Fraise has over her own body lends her a flexibility and dexterousness that a human hand, no matter how practiced, could never match.

Fraise spends a bit of time like that, playing with his balls, his cock. She's at least as curious as she is erotic; Leander is well used to how foreign the human body seems to pokemon with more malleable shapes. (Watt never seems to get tired of poking around his ass.) Eventually, the Alcremie seems to decide that she wants to take things to the next level; with a lustful, almost husky lilt to her voice, she nudges her body up against Leander's. He can feel her grip on his body loosen a little bit; while his limbs are still firmly entrenched in her, his torso and hips are not, and she seems to be inviting him to take the metaphorical plunge.

And take the plunge he does. Leander hitches his hips back and, with a wry thought that this probably isn't even the weirdest or most debaucherous thing he's done with food, drives it home.

He's fucking a cake.

The feeling is surreal, but not unpleasant--not even remotely. Any concern he would have about hurting or tearing Fraise's form is shooed away as she clearly repairs any crumbling of her confectionary body the moment it occurs. Indeed, she seems to take delight in how thoroughly he ruts her, her voice rising high over the hall. Leander half wonders if she might end up waking Watt.

Fraise's body is not like a woman's pussy, nor is it akin to Watt's ectoplasm. Her form is loose and crumbly, almost warm, and it squelches with the application of his cock. She parts around him in places and then proves surprisingly recalcitrant in other spots, making him grit his teeth and push to surge into her. He's rewarded by a rich, creamy bounty of frosting and cream that swirls about his cock. The material is warm and gooey, and it strokes very pleasant sensations in Leander's body as he continues fucking her.

Already a little spent from his earlier session with Watt, Leander takes a moment to catch his breath--and that's when things get really wild. It seems Fraise has decided that she doesn't want a break, and her form malleably morphs itself around his body to solidify and encase him. Leander can only gulp as he's swept deeper and deeper inside; before long, only his head is free of her form, the rest engulfed. Fraise's cake now looks lumpy and offshape with the addition.

And then with a confident chirp, Fraise really lets him have it.

The undulations and back-and-forth motions of her body swing him inside of her like a pendulum, and Leander gasps as his cock probes a wet, waiting pocket without him having to do anything at all. The Alcremie coos and warbles and with a glance upwards, Leander notes that her frosted face is colored crimson, a far different hue than just comes from strawberry flavoring. She was enjoying this.

Her body solidifies and in doing so swings him back, Leander groaning as his erect cock drags against a moist, crumbly bit of cake. Then with another ripple of her form, Fraise swings him in again and he fucks her even deeper. Back and forth she rides him, back and forth, and the whole time Leander reflects that there's nothing he's doing on his end; he's just riding it out as she takes control, almost playing with his body like it was an erotic toy. It's strangely comforting; almost soothing, even, to have her so confident and in-control like this. Leander leans his head against her form, uncaring of the frosting that will inevitably muss up his cheek and hair, and sighs with relief. Down below, he can feel Fraise still using him to hammer away at herself. Her body ripples around him with pleasure and even as she bends over to caress and cradle him, he can feel her tense every time his cock slides into one of her deep recesses. Her voice is growing high and stuttery, and he wonders how close she's getting. What exactly does an Alcremie's orgasm look like?

Eventually, Fraise's body contracts and then yanks him deeper inside and Leander gasps as his hard, sensitive cock lands in a pocket of something warm, wet, fluid... What is it? Is it frosting? Cream? A mixture of both? Or perhaps some of an Alcremie's most intimate, womanly secrets? Whatever it is, Fraise sings a high note of wordless praise and then picks up her pace. Cake solidifying and moistening and re-solidifying around him, Leander finds himself positively jackhammering into Fraise, his body shaking so hard that when he tries to speak in query, his voice emerges as an incoherent stutter. The rippling tempo of it is unreal, perhaps faster than anything he could do himself, and the cake pokemon positively quivers with stimulation.

Inward and inward he goes, faster and faster, the whole time marveling that he's not doing an ounce of this, it's all Fraise... the foreignness of the sensation is wild, and more than appreciated by his cock, which sings out in bliss and stimulation with every massaging thrust he takes around it. The warmth of the fluid caresses his cock, and Fraise's harder body nudges his balls and hips. Leander starts to pant; he can feel an orgasm building inside of him. And it seems he's not the only one; that colored blush is crawling further and further up Fraise's creamy face, and her feminine voice is crying out in spurts and breaks. Part of Leander wonders how this looks: himself encased in his own pokemon, only his head sticking out; the two of them undulating and shaking with an uneven tempo; their voices rising in unison.

And then, with a singular exertion of will, the Alcremie yanks Leander in further than before. His cock dives wholesale into the warm pocket inside of her and the cream compresses around him, massaging his cock with a sudden pressure that is both like a woman clenching and yet eclipsing it far more in the sense of how omnipresent, intimate, and confident it is. And like the advent of a cresting wave, Leander can feel it...

He cums.

The trainer's voice stutters and breaks as he spurts out a thick jet of creamy white spunk, cock tensing and pulsing as he keeps unloading into Fraise. The Alcremie tenses and then warbles happily as she herself meets him in orgasm, the scent of sugar and strawberries filling the hallways. Leander's vision grows hazy for a moment and he murmurs incoherently, and then suddenly his body is moving; Fraise is spitting him out to rest against the floor. He leans back against the wall, body surprisingly clean considering he was encased (or was that encaked?) a few moments ago, and heaves for breath, his chest rising and falling. Down below, his cock is still erect, a wayward trickle of cum trailing happily down its length.

A few paces away, Fraise shudders and sighs, looking happy and pleasant. Her form has regenerated completely, to the point where it's impossible to tell that she and he were intimate just a moment ago. Frosting swirls and dances of its own accord around her bulk, reminding the trainer of a human idly rubbing their penis or fondling their breasts, and she reaches up one handlike appendage to toy with the strawberry atop her frosty 'hair'.

For a few minutes the two of them just rest like that, mutually enjoying the afterglow; Leander feels his stamina slowly returning, his cock gradually shrinking back down to normal. Having two sexual episodes with his pokemon in one night was more than he'd anticipated, and despite how pleasant each was, he feels good and tired. He stretches and yawns, mumbling a thanks to his pokemon, and starts to rise on shaky legs to take a long-overdue rest.

But Fraise has more than just one idea, it seems. As Leander rises, she hops closer to him, trailing crumbs on the floor. She's still toying with the strawberry atop her head and as she looms against her half-risen trainer, a playful smile lights her face. With a coquettish grin, a wave of frosting plucks the berry from her hair and quickly deposits it in Leander's mouth.

The trainer murmurs with surprise and nearly makes to spit out the succulent treat, but the wave of frosting under Fraise's command is stronger than it looks. It presses against his lips, leaving the berry nowhere to go but down. Leander chews it up, marveling internally at its freshness and sweetness. The seeds pebble against his tongue. Some of Fraise's frosting kisses the bottom of his chin and angles his head back just a breath--the motion leaves the chewed berry nudging his throat, and Leander swallows it without a second thought. It quickly slides down his gullet.

Fraise seems to like what she sees, her eyes curiously affixed to Leander's face and throat, and she chirps excitedly when the act of swallowing makes his throat bulge out a bit. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she closes her eyes and focuses. A change settles on her.

Her frosting somehow grows visibly creamier, taking on a pale, viscous quality, with a new aroma strolling somewhere behind its inherent sweetness. Leander can only wonder what she's at when she snaps open her eyes with a smile and then, confidently, decides to press on.

The frosting against Leander's lips suddenly surges inside, filling his mouth with alarming speed. The trainer snaps his eyes wide and mrrrrrphles in surprise, but Fraise is insistent. With a playful warble, the Alcremie stuffs him full of frosting--more and more until it's coating his tongue, pressing against his teeth and the roof of his mouth, making his cheeks bulge. Any attempt to expel it is fruitless, since she just keeps on pouring more in. And when the frosting reaches the back of his mouth, nudging the base of his throat and stirring a long-familiar set of reflexes, Leander can only exhale once through his nose and take the action Fraise is clearly waiting for:

He swallows.

Gulp gulp gulp goes the sound, filling the little hallway, a regular repetition of noise. Each sound is accompanied by the working of Leander's throat, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows Fraise's gift. The frosting slides down his gullet to join the strawberry in his stomach, and he shudders at the sensation; the frosting is light and fluffy, but there's a lot of it, and he quickly starts to feel full.

The taste is unique as well. Alcremie are prized for the flavors they can add to dishes (indeed, they seem to live for letting humans or pokemon taste part of their cream, if not quite to the extent to which Fraise is operating now) and Leander has occasionally accepted a nibble of Fraise's frosting to accompany a dessert. But while her frosting has always been sweet and fruity, now the texture is different; stickier and more fluid, seeming to want to cling to his mouth and throat. The taste, too, is different, a salty tartness that he can't quite place...

Another large plop settles in his stomach, making him shudder. Glancing down, he can... he can see himself starting to get stuffed a little full, his toned tummy gaining a hint of curve, as if he drank too much water in one go. Fraise just giggles and sends more frosting his way, and as the fresh batch hits his taste buds, Leander realizes:

It's his cum. That's what's different. That inner pocket of moistness she drew him into, that place she had him pump his seed directly into, must have been her 'core'--the thing which she drew from to create her body and frosting. And he'd added his semen to it and she'd incorporated it into her new form. Her frosting was laced with his cum and now she is happily stuffing him full of both his juices and her own.

After what seems an age, Fraise finally draws back, trilling. Leander slumps against the wall, heaving for breath; sticky 'frosting' congealed around the outside of his mouth. He can feel his stomach straining slightly to contain all of her gift. The roundness presses against his cock, which is growing erect again. For the love of Mew, she'd stuffed him nice and full...

"F-Fraise," he says, his voice slightly hoarse, "was that really..." but then he cuts off, eyes wide, as he realizes that Fraise didn't pull back because she was finished. She has one more surprise in mind for him.

The stuffing resumes, but this time it's not frosting--it's actual cake. Fraise is taking chunks of cake (instantly regenerating whatever is lost) and stuffing them down his gullet.

Leander doesn't really have any choice but to gulp it down. And the cake is delicious... lemony and creamy, with a whiff of sprinkled sugar. But by all the legends, he was stuffed! He murbles and moans as his throat works as fast as ever, mouthful after mouthful of cake getting stuffed tight and crowding his stomach. He was already so full of frosting, and now...

After what seems an age, Fraise is satisfied. She pulls back and Leander gasps for air with a wet smack. Heaving for breath, he glances down at his own stomach. Whereas before he looked as if he'd drank too much water, now he looks like he'd had a wild night at a buffet--he boasts the sort of massive churning fullness that would take a few days to diminish even if he eats sparingly.

Cradling his stomach with one hand, the trainer tries to rise but is thrown off-balance by his shifted center of gravity. Resigning himself, he just slumps down. He feels so tired that he can only breathe in through his mouth, his breaths short and deliberate. Red colors his cheeks, and not just from the strain--impossibly, he's already at full mast again, his cock straining against his stomach and dimpling the growth. His tummy pillows around it.

But even then, Fraise isn't finished. Fully regenerated, the cake-like fairy giggles and then waves one creamy hand--and Leander's eyes nearly bug out of his head.

The cake and frosting inside of him begins to wriggle and dance of its own accord. The squirming, foreign sensation is not unpleasant; it doesn't stretch him any farther than he's already gone. But its constant movement leaves him feeling overwhelmed and strained, and he wheezes and whines wordlessly. "F-Fraise..." he says, the words stumbling out of his mouth. He's not sure what he's going to approach her about. To beg her to stop? Or not to stop? "F-Fraise, I..."

She giggles and then a lump in his tummy surges, the activity visible on the surface of his stomach as a shifting mound. Sweat beading his forehead, cock straining harder than ever, Leander can only watch open-eyed as his stomach becomes a veritable dancepad for animate lumps of food and frosting, each of them jiving and pressing inside of him. He slumps against the wall, sputtering out overwhelmed noises of pleasure--it's mad, why does this feel so good? Why does he like this? With Fraise humming to herself, still directing the energy inside of him, Leander realizes that at the moment, his belly is boss--it was one thing to be stuffed so full it was hard to rise, but with Fraise controlling the cream and cake inside of him, he's completely at her mercy. And given how hard his cock is... he's not sure he entirely wants to leave, either.

The next few minutes are among the most overwhelming, the most delectable of Leander's life. Fraise cuddles down to him, cooing and nuzzling, even as she lazily waves one hand to continue the symphony of food visibly wriggling inside of him. Leander for his part just sits there, cradling his stomach with both hands, and takes it in. He feels incredible... nearly ascendent. He didn't know anything could feel this good. The tender strain of trying to contain the moving food is surprisingly satisfying, and it massages against his straining cock. His manhood likes the attention.

Finally, one particularly vibrant push of cake inside of him nudges his prostate, and that proves too much for Leander. He cums, voice breaking as spunk jets out of him for the third time that night; his orgasm is so hard and encompassing that he nearly passes out. Fraise finally seems to take pity on him and just strokes him, cooing with delight. He blinks sleepily as the food settles in his tummy.

"F-finally done?" he manages to get out after a few minutes' rest. Fraise giggles girlishly and leaves a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Leander just shakes his head. Pokemon...

Finally mustering up the energy, he rises on shaky legs to totter off to the restroom. A nighttime shower is just what the doctor ordered after all that messy activity--and then? Then, he's due for a very, very long night of recuperation.

But fate had even more in store for the trainer. He was so tired that he didn't recognize an undulating pattern, like a snakey head drawn in purple marker, on his shower wall. The drawing's eyes touched on his form, lingering appreciatively on his cock and the curve of his ass. The shape--which was actually Glyph, his Runerigus--slowly began to manifest off the wall of the shower, reaching hungrily for its trainer.

Leander's night was far from over.