Two futanari, each living different lives are unaware of their connection. Helen is nineteen and attending her second year of college. The futanari is shy of the extra bit between her thighs. Thinking she is a freak, she struggles to hide what she is from those around her. But she has desires inside of her, eager to wake her up into a world of passion.
Ally is nineteen, too, and has lived all her life in a secret, government lab. The busty futa wants nothing more to escape the facility and live her life and enjoy her futa-cock. But the scientist, led by the sultry Dr. Zhao, believe her cum holds the key to incredible power.
Grown up apart, these two futanari are about to awaken to their special bond.
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Futa’s Passioante Awakening – Helen
Helen Hawthorn sighed as she taped her throbbing girl-dick between her legs, tucked between her thighs and pressing against the lips of her pussy, her blonde pubic hair tickling her shaft. She called it her girl-dick because that only felt proper. She was a girl who happened to have a dick. And one that had been increasingly difficult the last few days thanks to her new roommate, Isabel.
Helen applied the last of the tape to keep her dick tucked in place, hiding from the world that she was what the medical community called intersex and most people would call a hermaphrodite. Helen hated both terms. Intersex sounded so clinical, and hermaphrodite made her sound like a freak.
She preferred the term futanari.
It was Japanese in origin, and while it meant hermaphrodite, it sounded far more exotic. Plus, futanari had come to mean biological women who gained cocks of their own, often sprouting from their clits like Helen’s did. Unlike other naturally-born hermaphrodites or intersexed individuals, she had her cock sprouting from the folds of her pussy like it was her clit enlarge.
Except no clit was larger than most human cocks could grow. And they did not have fully functional urethra. Not only that, she could cum from her dick, or so Dr. Maura assured her. Her ovaries had, apparently, developed to function as normal ovaries and as testicles. They produces semen. Her occasional wet dreams proved it.
Her cock taped up, the tip still tingling, she pulled up her panties, the satin material sliding into place. It was hard to tell she had a cock at all, she tucked so well. And once she had her skirt and tights on, no one would have a clue she wasn’t a woman. It was so much easier than people thinking she was a freak.
“You’re not a freak,” her mother would tell her. “You’re unique. Special.”
“My special volcano,” her father would laugh.
Ryan and Regan Hawthorn weren’t Helen’s biological parents. She was adopted and named after Mount St. Helens where she was found as a baby. “If I’m special,” she would retort to her parents, “then why did my parents abandon me on a mountain?”
“Because they knew you would need someone special to love you,” her mother would say, hugging her. “Someone who had all the love in the world to give to such a unique, little girl.”
She would pretend her parents had cheered her up, but Helen knew the truth. She was a futanari freak.
She dressed next, pulling on her white tights and a plaid skirt that fell almost to her knees. Her blouse was pale blue and complimented her skirt. She buttoned up her around her small breasts held in a plain bra. She tucked in her skirt and then set about taming her blonde hair into a French braid. She always loved how feminine braided hair was.
And the French braid was the most elegant and feminine to the futanari. She would be beautiful if she tired a little harder with her makeup, but since she knew no straight guy or gay guy would want to date her, she didn’t see the point in trying.
And I doubt the lesbians are interested in a chick with a huge dick, Helen sighed as she finished putting on her lip gloss, making her lips pink and shiny. Lip gloss capped, she headed out of her bathroom into the dorm she shared with Isabel Espinosa.
Having a roommate was a mistake. During her freshman year at the University of Puget Sound, Helen had no roommate. She had told the school that, for medical reasons, she had to room alone. And they had respected her wishes. It was too stressful for Helen to have to hide her condition in her own dorm. So when Helen started her sophomore year this week, she assumed she would have a room all to herself.
She was wrong. She had to put up with the feisty, energetic, and gorgeous Isabel.
It was torture. Her girl-cock responded to a pretty girl the same as any straight guys. It grew hard. It tingled. It had this painful, almost demanding ached at the tip. It begged to be touched, to be stroked, to be masturbated.
Helen had never masturbated. And she had no plans on starting. She had gone all nineteen years of her life without flogging her girl-dick like a dumb guy or frigging her pussy like a horny slut. She wasn’t interested in sex since she knew no one would ever be interested in her futanari, freakish body.
So walking out of the bathroom and finding Isabel naked, bent over, her curvy, golden-brown ass pointed right at the bathroom door was torture. Helen froze, eyes widening behind her glasses at the sight of the naked rump swaying back and forth. It wiggled as Isabel worked a pink thong up her sleek legs. Peeking between those lush thighs was the shaved lips of her pussy, her petals on full display, dark and delicious.
Oh, no, Helen groaned as her dick throbbed, fighting against the tape. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to hold it in place. The tip of her girl-cock ached, begging to be introduced to that succulent pussy.
“You always change in the bathroom,” Isabel said, her words rapid. She pulled the thong over her hips, hiding her pussy, the cloth vanishing between those curvy butt-cheeks. “It’s just us girls. You don’t have to be shy.” She turned, her round breasts jiggling naked, areolas a dusky pink. She had a red heart tattooed on the inner slope of her left tit. “Really, I’m almost offended that you flee into the bathroom. I don’t care if you have an ugly scar or something. Won’t bother me.”
“I’m just shy,” Helen said, cheeks so red as she wrenched her gaze from those swaying tits. Her dick felt so engorged. It strained and pulled at the tap. It was so uncomfortable. She grit her teeth, heading to her desk to pack up her backpack for the day.
“Oh, don’t be shy, chica,” she said, flashing teeth. “I don’t bite.”
“I know,” Helen said, my cheeks burning. Even her pussy was getting wet, her labia rubbing on her girl-dick’s shaft, slicking it with juicy excitement. The futanari squirmed, the tip of her cock throbbing, the tape pulling at her flesh. She grabbed her laptop and stuffed it in her bag.
“Does it bother you that I’m naked?” she asked, facing Helen, her tits still out. “Are you gay? ‘Cause that’s cool. I’m down with that.”
“No, no,” the blonde futanari said. Helen didn’t know what her sexuality was. Was it gay to like women if she had a cock? But she also had a pussy. “I’m just…not used to it.”
“Aw, gotcha.” Isabel nodded, grabbing a bra out of her dresser. “We’ll work on it, okay, chica?”
“Sure,” Helen lied. It was easier than arguing with her roommate. And she hoped by the end of the week Isabel would be moving out. Helen already had her appeal in with the college administration, along with a note from Dr. Maura.
She was the only person at school that new about Helen’s condition.
“So, how are classes going?” Isabel asked. “I’m finding my second year to be strangely easier and yet harder at the same time, you know?”
“Yeah,” Helen said, grabbing my writing journal. It had cute, green geckos on it crawling over a yellow background. It was her fifth writing journal, the others were in her desk drawer. She filled it with story ideas, poems, half-written scenes. It was an important tool in her desire to be an author.
It was why she was at the University of Puget Sound. She was enrolled in the English Department with a Creative Writing focus.
“I mean,” continued Isabel, “I got the routine down, know how to get food, how to live, where to go to class. I’m not one of those lost freshmen wandering around with their eyes so wide like they’ve never been away from home. And so it’s easier. And yet the classes are just harder.”
“You don’t really like to talk much.”
“I guess not.”
“You’re gonna be a big famous author,” she laughed. “Communication. I’d think you’d be good at it.”
Helen shrugged her shoulders before slinging on her backpack. “I have to get to class.”
“Kay. Have a good one.”
“You, too,” Helen said, hurrying to the door.
She tried not to pretend she was fleeing as she closed the door behind her and rushed down the hallway to the stairs. But she was. Helen couldn’t help it. She had to get out of there. Her dick was so throbbing. She passed the elevator and hurried down the stairwell, bursting outside into the warm, September morning, taking in deep breaths.
The University of Puget Sound, located in the heart of Tacoma, had a beautiful campus. There was so much of greenery everywhere Helen looked, surrounded by red-brick buildings that looked like they were built a century ago. Except there were all these little details that hinted at their more modern construction: the bricks red too bright and vibrant, the mortar to light, the style off. The school had finished a major remodel and expansion a few years before she started.
Helen loved it here. It was beautiful. She pushed up her glasses, they were forever slipping down her nose, and breathed in deeply, letting her dick’s throbbing relax as she gathered herself for her day.
She really, really needed to live alone.
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