by Lyka Bloom
My mouth opened. I lifted my head and took her in my mouth with a loud wet suck. Nora groaned in delight and leaned forward, pushing herself a little further past my lips while I concentrated on making my mouth soft and accommodating.
The taste of her was sweeter than a boy's, and that I liked too. Soon I was making muffled little groans of my own while Nora's member slid in and out of my mouth with wet slippery strokes.
I could stand it no more. I pulled off and whispered that I also wanted Nora to fuck my brains out.
"I'm happy to oblige," my lover said with a smile. She stood up, slid her panties all the way to the ground, and guided me to bend over the couch with my ass in the air. "You don't mind if we do it like this? I'm in the mood to mount you, bitch."
I only moaned. The hot talk was not my usual brand, but none of this was. "Yeah," I said with a grunt. "You can call me that."
I felt the pressure against my folds, and then, smooth as anything, I felt her slide past, pushing into me strong, confident, and HUGE. The swelling felt like it would push me apart from the inside. "I've never had one so... fat," I gasped while Nora began to push in and out in a rhythmic fucking.
"Yeah. We tend to be like that."
Her hands gripped my hips, pulling me al the way up on her, and when I felt the smoothness of her groin meet my bare behind, I moaned loudly.
She pinned me with her body, using surprising strength to take every bit of pleasure from me that she wanted, and the whole time I was in absolute delirious delight. Every stroke, every push, every pulse of her organ in me made my whole body hum and sing. I was struggling not to cum too early. I wanted it to go on forever.
I couldn't last. One moment I was throwing my head back and begging for more and the next my body was betraying me, sending me into convulsions while I shouted in surprise at the wave after wave of wetness gushing from me.
Nora was surprised, too, but she held on, bearing down on me and hugging my body close to hers. She bit my neck gently and whispered hot and urgent in my ear. "Fuck, bitch, you made me cum. Shit."
I didn't know what she meant by that at first. Then I felt it, an incredible warmth and numbing gooey pleasure welling up inside me, doubling my orgasm and making me lose feeling in my legs. We collapsed to the ground, a pulsing moaning mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. We stayed that way, catching our breath, gasping and loathe to disentangle until it was finally necessary.
"I'm sorry about that," Nora whispered. "I meant to pull out."
"It's okay," I said, a lazy smile on my face that could only come to me when freshly-fucked. "I'm on the pill."
"No, it's just that- sometimes..." Nora looked apologetic.
"Sometimes what?"
"Sometimes it's... contagious. Futas breed by gene therapy. We convert."
I gaped at her, then looked down self-consciously.
"You mean I might..."
"Maybe? It doesn't always happen."
"When will I...know?"
Nora winced. "It's kind of like getting knocked up? It takes a little while? So it's hard to know. I'm really sorry. I... I was just really turned on by you. But just the one time... it might be safe. Sorry. I just... really liked it."
I looked back at her.
"I... liked it, too."
"I know. You squirting so hard is what made me lose it. You can clean up in my bathroom if you like."
I bit my own lip. "Will you... join me?"
"If I get all soapy with you, you're just going to end up pinned against the shower. And I don't know if I have a rubber in the house. I wasn't planning on... liking you that much. But that's going to lead to some seriously risky behavior. You might end up with a lot less room in your panties, sweetie."
I looked down at myself, trying my hardest not to be turned on by the potentially serious problem of futa cum leaking out of my very satisfied folds. I failed.
"I'm willing to take the risk," I said. I got up and walked to the shower, happier than I'd been in a long time. I heard Nora get up after me, confirming this shower would be anything but clean.
The Succubus Cafe: Forbidden Futa Wish
by Reed James
Copyright 2017
"Young lady, we need to talk," my step-mother said the moment I stepped out of the bathroom, a clutch of my doujins, Japanese indie comics, in her hand. And these weren't the comics you wanted your mom to discover.
They were hentai. Japanese porn.
She shook them, the black-and-white pages rustling, the colored covers flashed across my face. My step-mom glared at me, the cross dangling down to the cleavage of her large tits swaying and bouncing with her apoplexy, her auburn hair rustling.
"This is degeneracy, Nicole," she continued. "Not only do you have pornographic filth under my roof, but this..."
"It's Dad's roof," I muttered, squirming in my work clothes, a pair of black slacks and purple shirt with Hawaiian Burger stitched across the breast and my name beneath it. My uniform for my shitty minimum wage job my step-mom made me get since I turned eighteen.
"No, it's our roof, young lady," she continued, a red flush spreading down from her neck to those big, lush breasts she had, her dress stretching around them. "There are girls with... with... penises in here."
"Futanari," I muttered.
"What?" she hissed, fingers digging into the cover of a Sailor Moon futanari doujin. I winced. That cost me $25 at Sakura Con a few months ago. I loved rubbing my pussy and masturbating to that one, wishing I was Sailor Moon or Sailor Mercury. That I had a huge dick instead of a little clit. Then I'd fuck the brash Sailor Mars or the seductive Sailor Venus.
And my mom was ruining them.
"Please, Mom, those are--"
"Absolute filth." She shoved them into my hands. "I want them disposed of, young lady. On your way to work. You better not return with them. I will search your room when you get back. And I better not find any more. Or on your computer."
"There's nothing on my computer," I lied, grateful I knew how to hide my scanned collections of futa and lesbian doujins, plus plenty of hentai videos, on my hard drive. She didn't know anything about computers.
"You're lucky I don't tell your father what sort of degeneracy you..." A sneer crossed her lips. "Abuse yourself to."
She was such a Christian, even if she loved wearing these tight blouses and yoga pants and skirts that hugged her curving ass. She drove me so wild with lust. My step-mom was a MILF. An uptight MILF who teased me everyday.
I wished so badly to have a huge futa-dick. I'd fuck her up the ass so hard, show her what she really should have shoved up that backside. Not the stick she rammed up there and stole all the fun out of her.
"Yes, Mom," I said, taking my beloved doujins. Five different Sailor Moon futa stories, and though I couldn't read the Japanese text, I imagined what the characters said. How they moaned. How they fucked each other with their big futa-dicks, spewing yummy girl-cum all over each other's bodies.
Just hosing each other.
"You are eighteen," she snarled. "Grow up. Abandon this degeneracy. You're a promising, young woman. But if you waste all your time on self-abuse and filthy cartoons, you'll make nothing of your life."
"Yes, Mom," I said, squirming. "I...I have to get to work." I wanted to argue, but it was so hard with those tits bouncing right before my face. My mom stood ahead taller, her tits almost thrusting into me as she kept moving, gesturing.
"You're going to college in two months. You need to focus on your studies, find a nice boy to marry, and start a life."
"I'm gay," I muttered.
"You'll grow out of that," she said. "Most girls do. Now get to work. And I mean it, dispose of this filth. I'll cut off your cell phone if I find any more porn in my house."
"Yes, Mom," I muttered, sidling past her curvaceous body towards the door, my fiery hair spilling about my downcast face, forming a curtain of red to hide my burgeoning tears.
I never knew my real mom. She died in childbirth. Jenna married
my dad when I was not more than a year old. She raised me like her daughter. So as much as it angered me that she snooped, it embarrassed me that she, my mom, found my porn stash and learned about my favorite fetish.
Because I just wanted to love her.
I knew it was wrong. She reared me, but I had the hots for my step-mom so badly. My favorite Sailor Moon futa doujin had the blonde magical girl fucking her own step-mother, just bending her mom over and ramming into her so hard, showing her mother how amazing her girl-dick was.
And it would be so satisfying to do the same to my mom.
I burst out of the house and out into the neighborhood of Queen Anne Hill, the nice part of Seattle. I looked down at the city, the Space Needle rising above, the skyscrapers of downtown glinting in the sun, as I waited for the bus. I put the doujins in my purse, wondering what I could do with them.
I didn't want to throw them away. I saved my allowance for a year to finally buy doujins at Sakura Con this year. The first time I didn't have the minor badge. The first time the hentai vendors would let me browse and buy their stock. I avoided the yaoi section with all the fangirls, browsing with the boys for the naughty futas buried among busty MILF's, naughty lolis, and hot lesbian stories. Unlike my mom, Andrew, who ran the booth, was very helpful and supportive.
The bus came. As I rode it, I pondered the locker I had at work. I could stash them there until... I went off to college? I could slip them into my suitcase. Mom would never know. I worried at it while my pussy itched and squirmed.
Just thinking about the naughty things in my purse made me wish to be a futa so badly. Why couldn't they be real?
I transferred buses twice to reach the downtown area where my work, Hawaiian Burger, lay. It was a local business run by a Hawaiian family, bringing the taste of the islands to Seattle. They did amazing things with spam. And pineapple was yummy on a hamburger.
Only when I reached the block where my work should be, walking in a half-daze of futa fantasies, I blinked, staring at what lay before me instead. The bright, cheerful, luau style exterior of my work didn't face me. I looked at a dark and Gothic shop nestled between the barber shop and the shoe shop. Windows tinted so black I couldn't see through them, twisted wrought iron adorning the frames, a wooden sign thrust over the door swinging in a slight breeze. A chibi (cute and cartoonish) demon girl smiled mischievously from the sign, holding a red pitchfork and leaning on the business's name.
Lil Temptress Coffee Shop.
"What the hell?" I blinked. My gaze whipped around. Where had my work gone? I was here just yesterday.
Red hair flew around me as I swung my gaze up and down the street, my heart exploding in my chest. Panic surged through me. A restaurant couldn't vanish overnight even if my work had gone out of business. And it was doing fine. Sales were up, the owners pleased.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them so tight my cheeks and forehead muscles ached from the strain. My heart screamed in my chest. I had to be seeing things. This couldn't be happening. I'd open my eyes and everything would be normal.
It wasn't.
"No," I wailed. My breath came fast, too fast. Spots danced before my eyes. I leaned forward, grasping the wrought iron handle of the door, the metal cool and twisted angular in my hands. I shook, the door rattling. "No, no, no."
The world grew hot, oppressive. I fanned my face, feeling the blood fill my cheeks. I couldn't breathe. People walked by, staring at me. The world spun. I clung to the door. It pulled at me, sucking me inward like the great inhalation of a mighty beast. The buzz of people talking, gossiping, whispering at me grew greater and greater, assaulting me, whipping at me. I needed escape.
I yanked the door open and stumbled into the dim-lit interior of the coffee house. The door shut behind me. Sound died. All the whispers vanished. I panted, sucking in breaths, able to breathe again. My hands clutched my black slacks, my purse hanging precariously off my shoulder. Blessed coolness washed around me. My heart slowed as I straightened, looking around, drinking in the atmosphere.
Small, round tables, all made of wood and looking old and used, dotted the coffee house. Each had a single, black candle burning on them, shedding a little light. Above, chandeliers made of the same wrought iron as the exterior, shed enough light to make each table an island in a sea of darkness, beacons between eternity.
I shivered, glancing at the walls. Woodcarvings covered them, at once both ancient and... Modern. I recognized them. They were panels from my doujins. The various sailor scouts with their futa-dicks fucking each other, fucking their friends, cum firing, captured in the carvings of wood.
"What the hell?" I whispered again.
The room groaned.
A counter lay to my right, behind it all the usual accouterments of a coffee house: various mixers and cappuccino machines, flavors for drinks, sinks. An old-fashioned cash register stood next to a small, chalkboard sign with the stores specials written on it. Sinful Cherry Americano $1.99, the Decadent Double-shot White Chocolate Latte $2.39, and the Succubus Kiss (Triple-shot, Strawberry-Chocolate Latte) $2.29.
"Hello?" I called, heart racing as I stumbled to the counter. I had questions. "Is anyone here?" A curtain of red beads led into the store's kitchen and storage. I peered at it, but couldn't see past it. "Where's Hawaiian Burger gone?"
Nothing. My voice echoed.
I bit my lip, glancing at the door. I had to know. Was I out of a job? Was this some sort of elaborate prank? But why would my bosses go to all this effort to prank me?
My hands slid on the cool, waxed counter as I leaned over to peer closer at the beads. My fingers brushed a bell, a soft chime ringing. I blinked, staring at it. The bell had a push tab on top, like the type you'd slap your hand down on at a hotel.
So I slapped it.
And winced.
"Oh, no," I groaned, sharp pain flaring. Chimes rang. A spot of crimson welled in the center of my palm. I glared at the bell while ripping a black napkin from the nearby dispenser. "Stupid thing."
Beads rustled. A girl stepped out of the back, skin so pale like the sun had never touched her in her entire life. Black hair and dark mascara only enhanced her pale, goth look. Blood-red lips smiled, sultry and hungry, as she laid her dark eyes on me. She walked forward, clothing rustling. She wore a corset, lifting her breasts into a lovely shelf of cleavage. A wispy, black skirt rustled about her thighs clad in torn, fishnet stockings. A little, white apron draped over her skirt and tied about her dainty waist.
"Where did Hawaiian...?" My words trailed off as I looked into her eyes.
The world vanished.
My eternity became those dark pools.
They pulled at me, gripping me with unseen hands tugging me towards the barista. I struggled to breathe, trembling. Trying to rip my gaze away, but they held me. The world slipped around me. I wanted to scream, tried to scream, as I plummeted towards--
"What do you want?" she asked.
I blinked, freed from her gaze. The world lurched around me. I stood at the counter. I wasn't falling. "I..." I blinked, struggling to think.
"What do you want?" the barista repeated again, her words a soft, caressing purr.
"I just want to know what happened to Hawaiian Burger," I panted. "Where'd it go?"
"Nowhere," she answered. "What do you want?"
"I..." I frowned at her. "Are you asking for my order?"
"What else would I be asking?"
"But..." Confusion gripped me. Maybe if I bought something. Something strong, to jolt me back into reality. Three shots of espresso would do that. "Fine, I'll take the Succubus Kiss."
Her smile grew, her lips so moist. I wondered if instead of a drink, she'd just kiss me. But she didn't. She rang me up on the cash register, bells ringing as she pressed the buttons. "$2.41 with tax."
"Right." I opened my purse, pushing past the doujins, and wincing at their bent condition, to find my wallet. I pulled out my debit card, handing it over. She swiped it and returned it a moment later alo
ng with a receipt for me to sign.
I did.
"What do you want, Nicole Spencer?" she asked again.
"To know where my work went," I answered, tired of her questions. I was the one with questions.
"What do you want?" She leaned closer, those dark eyes seizing me once more. "What dark desire lurks in your soul?"
My futanari, taboo fantasy reared up inside of me. I shuddered, forcing it back into the recesses of my thoughts while my pussy flared with itching heat. But those eyes seized my fantasy, reaching down my ocular nerve and into my mind. I groaned, hands tightening on the counter, my lips squeezing tight as they pulled at it, demanding I speak them.
"I..." The words forced from my lips. My pussy clenched, juices soaking into my panties. My clit throbbed, begging to surrender.
The eyes tugged harder.
"I...want..." Sweat broke out on my forehead.
The world lurched forward. Everything swarmed towards those eyes. There was no escape. Every path circled back to her. My thoughts pulled closer and closer to the tips of my tongue, my fantasy bursting out of my mouth.
"I want to become a futanari and fuck my step-mother! I want to show her that futanari are so sexy and that they aren't degenerates! I want her to know how awesome they are! To love them the way I love futanari!"
"Your drink's coming right up," the barista said, her eyes releasing me.
I recoiled backward. It was like playing a game of tug-of-war. I had pulled and pulled so hard against her eyes that when she let go, I stumbled away, unable to stop myself. My arms pinwheeled. My purse slipped off, tumbling to the ground. My ass crashed into a table. The candle rocked and then fell over, snuffing out.
The room grew a little darker.
"Wh-what just happened?" I demanded. "What did you do to me?"
"Do?" the barista laughed, a machine whooshing away. "I took your order."
I shivered, lifting up my palm. The small wound remained, blood smeared across my grip. My head snapped to the door. The image of the chibi demon above made me shiver. Dawning realization struck me.
