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It was a beautiful television; screen in perfect condition, case only mildly scratched, no signs of damage he couldn't undo.
"You should know it stopped working ages ago." The lady running the yard sale shot Spamton a confused look before accepting the wad of bills from his outstretched hand, counting them as he struggled to lift the thing.
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After the slow and hard work of miraculously carrying the CRT to his home he instantly got to work fixing the minor scratches and seeing how he could get the thing to work.
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By the time he had actually gotten the old thing to work it was late into the night. Since it could actually turn on now he may as well get dinner and see what there was to watch on the CRT.
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For dinner all he had was whatever was in the fridge that he could microwave, aka some hot pockets. Call him an unhealthy eater, but food was food so he stuck the hot pockets in the microwave.
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He sat down on the couch with his now steaming hot pockets and the CRT in front of him. “Alright big guy let’s see what you have.”
Spamton turned on the tv…
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The CRT turned on with a pop as the brightness adjusted down to a soft glow. The TV was set on channel with no signal and as Spamton flipped through the channels he realized that almost all of them didn’t have signal. With a huff he got up to go mess the antennas, and after a bit of shifting he got the signal back. Funnily enough it only worked when the antenna where shaped like the letters “T V”.
“Little self absorbent, dontcha think?”
The CRT only glowed softly back, almost like it was listening silently.
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He chuckled softly as he ran his fingers gently down the antennas before pulling his hand away. The screen seemed to fuzz a little as he did so. Almost like the TV enjoyed it. He shouldn't be personifying the thing, but he really couldn't help it. Spamton had always loved technology... more than was probably appropriate. Something had to be wrong with him.
"You're a pretty handsome CRT." He whispered to it, licking his lips as he brushed his hands along it's chassis. God, now he was basically groping the thing, fingers sliding against the slits of vents along the sides and gripping onto it's frame. His frame. Spamton decided the TV was a man.
"Can't believe she was going to throw you away, you're so lucky I came along to save you." He told him, biting on his bottom lip as he pulled his hands away from the chassis and sat down in front of the screen. Some western show was playing with a hot guy in assless chaps. He didn't know what was happening in the program but he enjoyed the visual more with the fuzz of the screen overlaying it.
Spamton reached for him again, teasing his fingers into the VCR slot like he was fingering a girl. Less wet, more dangerous if he were to actually risk putting his dick into him like that. Part of Spamton wanted to do it anyways. His fingers hit something. A tape? He wondered what kind of movie had been left inside by the old woman. Nothing strange he hoped.
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Drawing the VHS out, he flipped it over to read the masking-tape label. The title was scrawled in loopy handwriting, the edges of the label curled and yellow. He raised his eyebrows.
"'The Erotic Touch of Hot Skin', eh? Looks like you've seen some interesting films in your days, huh?" Spamton chuckled as he set the tape aside, hands gravitating back towards the screen.
"Naughty boy, aren't you?" God, he was disgusting. Drooling over this poor TV like this.
"Think you could teach me a thing or two, *Mr. Tenna?"