Futanarium 1: An Erotic Short Story Bundle (7 page)

She started to gently massage her mistress’ balls, the stroking and cradling turning into slightly circular movements that ran counter to each other. Some things the human body just could not handle without some error, at least she could not. And all the while she bopped back and forth at a steady pace, her tongue lashing around, above and below the sensitive head. It had taken her a very short time during those first, hesitant days to notice that the focus was around the ridge of the head; that was where she insistently ran her lips past, up and down. Isha had yet to complain.

Minutes passed, the blindfolded pet occasionally letting a hard suck escape her lips. The smacking of lips filled the room with lewd sound for a short moment before it disappeared, the only sound that of Isha’s heavy breathing once more. Lately she had taken advantage of the slow progress of their morning training, pulling Tanya down to briefly choke her on the entire shaft as it pulsed, but not today.

Instead she pushed the girl off, hand fastening around the head as she erratically jerked herself to the finish. Tanya sat still, in place. It was rare, but not unprecedented, that her face was to be painted. Usually when a point was to be made or when Isha wanted her to look whorishly good. Today was almost certainly the former, but that did not stop her from insistently cradling and massaging the contents of those brimming balls as the shaft was pumped in front of her face.

It did not take long for her to register the changes that occur right before climax. Isha’s erratic movement and heavy breathing clued her in to what was coming. She instinctively closed her eyes. The blindfold caught what would have landed on her eyelids, but it was still habit.

She shivered quietly as the first creamy, viscous strands landed against her skin, clinging and only hesitantly running. She had always been impressed with the amount her mistress could produce, taking it as a compliment to her in some dark and quiet corner of her mind.

She was not disappointed this time either, Isha groaning, rhythmically emptying herself and thoroughly painting Tanya’s face; the strands flowed together to droop into large drops that quickly rolled over the girl’s cheeks and dripped onto her shoulders or chest. Tanya remained still, waiting. She had done the best she could; she had received her mistress’ seed.

“Is this really what you consider your inner self to be, Tanya?”

The question came some five seconds after she had started wondering what to do. Usually, Isha would lead her to the shower, or at least give her an indication of how long she was to parade around with a cum-stained face. Not this time.

“No, of course not,” she said.

“
Not too long ago, you said you were a servant, pleaser and submissive. That changed?”

“
No, mistress.”

“
But it’s not all you are, then?”

“
No, mistress.”

“
What more are you?”

A few seconds of pregnant silence followed. Tanya parted, then closed her lips. She swallowed. She still had not really understood, had no real answer after what she thought would have pleased her mistress was rejected. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the remains of the seed slowly seeping down her angled face. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

Isha’s hand was gentle as it curled around her chin. Even after the slaps and the degrading knee-crawl through the house, a simple touch was all it took to coax a smile out of her. She tried to stop it at first but could not. She just let it happen. She felt safe in her mistress’ hands. In spite of everything she felt safer than she ever had, even when she knew she had disappointed.

“
Tanya, you’re not just a submissive. Be serious. You know that, I know that. You’re more than that one aspect, you’re... You’re not sure who you are,” she said. Her thumb slowly pushed up into Tanya’s hair, caressing the girl’s jawline on its way.

“
That’s perfectly reasonable. No one knows everything about themselves, It’s enough to just be yourself, whatever that means.” She leaned down, her lips granting the tip of Tanya’s nose a gentle kiss. “Stop thinking you can define yourself by what we do together. We’re doing this to pull more of you out from that brain of yours, not to make you a whimpering little subby slave,” she said. Isha’s lips moved down, pressing a deep kiss to her pet’s lips. They shared each other’s tastes for a long moment before it was time to clean up.

Rika could still see the girl standing near the shore, a giant tropical-printed towel tied under her armpits, and her feet buried in the sand. It was late evening, only a week after Rika’s release. The girl had no idea just what the woman observing her was. Rika had no idea who and what she truly was either, not until much later.

Rika woke up alone in her hotel room with no recollection of the time that had passed between the beach and then. It was as if she had blinked when she had last seen the girl, and when she opened her eyes again time had fast-forwarded two hours and she was back in her hotel room. She was disoriented, but other than being tired and gaining a few bruises seemed fine. Exhaustion quickly overtook any worry.

It was morning when Rika next opened her eyes. For a while she just laid in the bed, thinking of how her life had changed since the same time last year. How she had been poor, living on the streets without a future. People with nowhere to go become desperate, and that was exactly what she had been when she had been offered a spot in the program.

She had not cared what it was about at that point, only that she would be given a free and comfortable life in exchange for one year in the hands of geneticists. Science had come far in the decades since the start of the second millennium, and its implementation was, as always, driven by sex.

With no family left Rika had no one she cared about left to shame her, so she stayed with the program, even when she discovered what it was about. It was a development in humanity she thought was interesting; the morphing of physiology catering to the wishes of whoever could pay.

Finally the furries, and plenty of others besides, would have their fantasies come true. Plastic surgery was all well and good, but it was still only a stopgap measure. These biologists were determined to go one step further, and they succeeded. Rika was the proof, or part of the proof anyway. She was far from perfect, but their intention had not been to reshape her, change her eye color or her bust.

No, Rika was the object of research for what the geneticists thought was a somewhat more niche audience, but one that would likely pay exorbitant sums for the privilege. She was the first successful prototype for the transsexual audience. She was a woman, but with cock and balls.

After a few weeks of observation she had been released from her ten months and fifteen days of testing. The program had promised to provide a comfortable home for her for the rest of her natural life, so she had been set up near the beach as she had requested. Of course, after having been confined to a clinical environment for months and with the money to spare the first thing she did was travel.

With no personal belongings left it was as simple as booking a flight. Many hours, a few planes and a ferry later Rika stepped onto the gentle sand of a quiet Caribbean island. She was away from the dreary streets of her home, away from any prying eyes or curious questions. She could relax and find a way to make sense of her emotions, perhaps even find a way to live a normal life.

That was what she had hoped, at least, until the girl had approached her. Now it was morning, and she had no idea what had happened save a fuzzy feeling in her mind. She had sat down to wait for breakfast, but the idea of what she was now capable of had rumbled in her mind since she first woke up with the shaft between her legs. There was a foreign and undeniable impetus to do - something - constantly present. And now she had lost two hours, and the girl. Rika stood, and walked out of the restaurant.

She passed through the door, but only managed a few steps in the warm morning sunlight before she had to support herself against the hot stone of a fake pillar lining the entrance to the hotel. Sounds returned, movements, feelings. A jumble of emotion, frighteningly powerful, came back. The sky was dark, but not black, more a sort of magical midnight blue that existed on the island, a kind of night she had never experienced at home. She was holding her down, choking--

Rika shook her head and looked around. She had not been far from the hotel the night before, perhaps a kilometer down the beach where large rocks strewn with nature’s careless hand had formed coves and smaller, more private arenas on the beach. She hurried down the pavement.

The beach was still only sparsely populated, mostly with people who came for a brief morning dip. Perhaps the girl had not yet been found? Rika stopped for a moment, shocked at herself. If she had killed the girl, if she found a corpse, would she really try and hide it?

Of course, morals dictated that she report herself, but without shadow of a doubt the prison system on the island was far from as enlightened as what she was used to at home. It would almost certainly not be a pleasant experience, even as prisons go. She swallowed and closed her eyes, leaning against the low wall separating the sand from the sidewalk as she felt another episode coming on.

Rika moved in violent bursts, hammered forward, chasing something she still did not quite grasp. The biological urge was still new in her, so raw and uncontrolled like an exposed nerve. The girl was naked beneath her, trapped and unable to escape the predator she had found herself in the hands of. She rocked back and forth in tune with the powerful thrusts hammering her, whimpering as her body was imprinted in the sand.

Rika shook her head, drawing in a deep breath to clear her mind. She came back to herself, feeling the new sensation of a growing erection. She was close to where she had been with the girl, and still unversed in how to control her body. The memory had been so real that she could almost still smell the faint fragrance that her target had worn, and it played on her subconscious enough to keep her on edge.

Had the memory come a minute earlier, she would have walked through town with a raging, fat hard-on on full display. As it was, she only had sand, rocks and the ocean to show her physique off to, having crossed the border from sidewalk to beach to crawl over the last borders of rough boulders between her and her destination.

The girl from Rika's dream lay there, in the sand. She was curled up awkwardly, but there were no signs of death or of violent struggle. She just laid there in the sand, half on her towel, looking peaceful. A momentary lull in the wind brought the faint sound of steady breathing to Rika’s ears. The girl was sleeping.

Awash with the cold, purging comfort, Rika moved closer. Her foot stepped on something foreign, something not sand or stone, and her startled reflexes made her jump backwards. She had not uttered a sound, but she was on high alert. Despite how pleasant the beach's landscape was, to her there was nothing as disgusting as the creatures that inhabited it, and they did occasionally wash up. She looked down.

What Rika had stepped on was no dead crab or wet piece of seaweed but a wallet made of brown, well-worn leather. With a glance at the awkwardly sleeping girl, Rika took a moment and looked inside. There were plastic cards for all sorts of services as well as a few paper tickets, and a picture. She cast a glance at a card, reading the name. Nina Catarina. The two women were from the same city, too. The tickets were from various sightseeing tours.

The picture had obviously been taken while the two people on it had been unaware of the cameraman or woman. Nina’s slender frame, easy smile and dirty-blonde hair was covered by a straw hat and a loose, pale green summer dress. The man she held hands with had short, dark brown curls and a smile to die for. He wore a white shirt and sand-colored cargo shorts. They looked happy. Rika closed the wallet.

Nina was sleeping easily, despite the clumsily-tied rope around her wrists. That had not been obvious from a distance, but this close and with the girl on her side, it was clear that she had been tied in a hurry. Her hair was a mess and she was very, very naked. Rika had to swallow, blinking heavily as she felt another memory threatening to come back. Her wandering eyes took in the same body that had labored beneath hers in her last flashback.

It really had happened. She raised her left hand, rubbing it over her face. She had had sex with this girl named Nina, even tied her up before fucking her like a rag doll. The girl didn't seem like she had suffered anything beyond discomfort as she laid on the ground. She was disheveled to be sure, but the rampant moans that echoed through the back of Rika’s skull did not make her think that it had been rape.

The girl breathed in deeply, slowly blinking her eyes open as she came awake. “Hey, lovely,” she said, blinking again, presumably to dispel the sleepiness. “Back for more? Was wondering when you’d come back and take care of the rope.”

Somehow, hearing the girl’s voice was too heavy a trigger for Rika to ignore. She dropped the wallet in the sand, her pupils dilating as she took in the calm, comfortably sexy woman arranged on the ground in front of her. For a moment, it was as if her mind receded from reality. She grit her teeth and fought it, feeling as if she was pushing a burden around in front of her, but still she fought. She fought and she won.

***~~~***