It all started for Victoria on a Saturday night. She’d been feeling out of sorts all day, nothing in particular, just a general malaise and ravenous hunger.
The normally vivacious senior had spent all day lying about the house, moping, sighing and eating far more than was probably good for her. She could feel a sense of expectation, like she was waiting for something, but what, she had no idea.
She finally decided on an early night, but despite her lethargy, she found it difficult to get to sleep. Aches and twinges cropped up all over her slim body, and she was slightly sick in the pit of her stomach.
Her eyes snapped open as she awoke from the fitful sleep into which she’d finally fallen. She felt like her guts were twisting themselves apart and the sheets were slick with sweat.
God, no wonder I’ve been feeling off all day; I’m running a fever.
She flipped over slowly, groaning, and stumbled to her feet, grabbing her glasses from the nightstand. Her loose, filmy nightshirt clung to her slim body as she slowly dragged herself through the moonlit room, squinting as she flipped on the light in her ensuite bathroom.
I look terrible. Her face was flushed and red, deep dark circles under her eyes attesting to her broken sleep and fatigue. Her short brown hair stuck to her face in stringy, wet strands, until she filled shaking hands with cool water from the tap and washed down her face, pulling her fingers down and staring at herself through the mirror through heavily-lidded eyes.
Ignoring the protestations from her aching muscles, she made her way downstairs to get some ibuprofen from the kitchen cupboard, hoping it would calm her fever enough for her to sleep.
The ache in her stomach had grown even worse, and when she stepped through the doorway into the kitchen her body was suddenly gripped in an agonising sensation, her whole body freezing up as the pain amplified and spread, her whole pelvic area starting to ache.
She took deep, rattling breaths, throwing out a slick hand to steady herself as she started to shake. The pain was starting to fade, but in its place was a growing heat, deep in her belly and her virgin pussy.
Her breaths became deeper as the sensation flooded her body, a powerful, creeping arousal. If anything she began to sweat harder as her skin tingled in the cool night air. Her small nipples crinkled, growing hard against her filmy nightshirt, and her clitoris felt tight and swollen enough to burst.
She leaned harder against the wall, her vision clouding as her glasses started to fog. This wasn’t just arousal – her body was burning with the need for release. It was as she put a hand down to her pussy that she felt a sensation that made her gasp.
Just above her pussy, there was a large, hard lump in her pubic mound. It pulsed lightly as her fingers traced it, about the size of the bottom of a small hen’s egg. It felt fleshy, pliant, not like a bone sticking out underneath skin but nevertheless hard and full, and the flesh buzzed and tingled like an electric current played across it.
Her dark brown eyes went wide behind her frames as the tips of her fingers brushed over the tip of the tingling nub, her arousal momentarily forgotten as she tried to puzzle out what was happening to her body.
She stifled a yelp as the lump throbbed, the arousal returning twofold until the contractions in her abdominals doubled her over against the wall, sweat dripping into a growing puddle on the floor. Beneath her bloated clit and the hard lump in her pubis, her pussy was working overtime, juice cascading down her legs, her hot lips fluttering and working against nothing but the cold night air. Pussy juices mingled with perspiration on her red-hot thighs until her knees knocked together in weakness and need.
She saw the lump throb again, and gasped as it swelled, sticking out an inch from her mound. Before her eyes the hair on the lump fell loose, leaving it clear and white and still pulsating. It prickled even harder, tiny stabs of pain playing across its surface.
With agonising slowness it kept expanding, the skin stretching as the solid lump grew bigger, each throb sending pulses of unbearable lust through her body.
It didn’t grow any thicker but instead out from her body, less a lump now and more a short shaft throbbing right above her aching clit. The agonising lust built in her body until her skinny hips were humping the air, and with a powerful burst of pressure the 3-inch shaft suddenly bloated at the top, a ridge of skin fanning out about an inch down from the end.
Colour blossomed from the tip, a light pink spreading down to the end of the ridge, the bell-shaped tip subtly morphing and reforming into an unfamiliar shape with a mottled texture. Almost by instinct Vicki gripped it, blinking away drips of sweat and groaning as it throbbed in her hand.
Suddenly, she realised what it was. She realised what was happening to her, and the realisation sent a chill to the pit of her stomach.
Everybody knew about futanari. Doctors referred to the condition as macropotent intersexuality syndrome, and its sufferers as newhalfs, but most people just knew them as futanari or futas. Women who, for reasons still unknown to medicine, spontaneously developed male genitals along with a whole host of other bizarre physiological conditions.
No longer female, but certainly not male, futanari had become increasingly commonplace in society since the first recorded transformation until one in a hundred women was inflicted with the condition. Common enough to be widely-known, but rare enough that no woman ever anticipated it happening to her.
Vicki couldn’t even pretend that the pulsing shaft extending just above her clitoris was anything but a futanari penis. Panting, she started to rub the four inch shaft in tiny strokes, horrified but unbearably aroused by the way the rest of the skin slid up over the bell-shaped head, tremors travelling through her body as she jerked her futanari cock for the first time.
Satisfaction flooded her body, a powerful sense that everything was good, correct, that this was what she was meant to be doing. Her body shuddered until her arm and face were flat up against the wall as she joyfully stroked herself, her mouth slack with barely-contained pleasure and a line of drool snaking its way down the painted plaster.
Her hips humped into her hand, pushing her desperate cock harder into her small, smooth hand. She couldn’t help but moan as the bottom of her hand thudded down into her clitoris.
Pressure built at the base of the sensitive shaft until she yelped and her cock pumped a hard stream of futanari cum up her body, the rope curling and splashing in a thick line up her face and into her hair.
She fell forward onto the floor, shuddering as her new cock kept pumping, her mind flooded with unbearable, addictive pleasure, until the front of her nightshirt and the wall were stained with ropes of spunk, more dripping from the tip.
The transformation wasn’t even close to complete. Full of mutant hormones, her body was working on overdrive to obey the demands being made of it. Her cock didn’t even start to grow soft as more blood pumped in to fuel its hardness and continued growth. Squatting on the balls of her feet against the wall, she reached for the growing shaft again until she heard something that chilled her blood.
“Victoria? Are you down here?”
The corridor light flicked on, casting a beam of light into the kitchen right next to the corner of the doorjamb where Vicki was crouched. She desperately tried to pull her hand away from her penis, but letting it go for even a second made her body start convulsing with need, her cock throbbing so hard it hurt. She looked around desperately, still stroking.
“I’m just g-g-gettinggg a drink, Mom!”
“What’s all that noise? Are you okay?”
Vicki gritted her teeth, trying not to pant and moderate her breathing, even as her sensitive pole sent wracking pulses through her entire lithe body.
“I’m fffine! Just stu-oh-ubbed my toeee!”
Her orgasmic moans were a hairs breadth away from slipping out if her mother kept talking to her. The horrible, wonderful pressure was starting to build deep in her crotch again, her cock throbbing expectantly. She didn’t know how much longer her composure would hold up.
“Well stop making so much noise and go to bed! I’ll see you in the morning.”
The relief as the hall light went dark sank into her taut muscles and drove her over the edge, Vicki desperately stifling her exultant cry as her cock loosed another hot, heavy load up her heaving body. She squeezed and milked her cock, now a full six inches long, marvelling at how squeezing her pelvic floor muscles at the same time as the shaft contracted resulted in a hard stream of cum and an even more intense orgasm.
Still hard, still prickling all over with the feelings of growth, her cock continued to throb. Even worse, the same burning, tingling sensation had flooded into her small breasts and skinny hips as well.
Abandoning her position in the kitchen, Vicki made her way back to her bedroom as quickly as possible on unsteady legs, her progress made more difficult by her inability to take her hand off the burgeoning shaft between her legs.
Her whole mound was aflame with the buzzing, prickling sensation she was dimly beginning to realise heralded futanari growth. Her breasts were tight and sore, tingling all over, and so were her hips. She could dimly tell that if it hadn't been for the arousal, she'd have been in a lot of pain.
By the time she’d reached her bedroom, Vicki’s breasts had bloated up a whole cup size, the tiny, perky mounds starting to reshape under their new weight, the bouncing tangible as she stumbled up the staircase cock in hand.
Schoolyards ran thick with rumours about futanari, and it was impossible to not have heard at least some dubiously-sourced facts about the mutated women. Classmates “in the know” insisted that every futanari girl spent two days straight jacking off after their cock grew in.
Vicki had disbelieved that figure at first, but given now that she literally couldn’t stop touching herself even after two devastating, mind-blowing orgasms, it didn’t seem so far-fetched.
The feeling of the cock was almost impossible to describe for her – it was as if parts of her brain were having to be repurposed just to make her properly perceive what the cock felt like, and it hadn’t quite gotten there yet, instead just carpet-bombing her pleasure centre.
Switching hands to get her nightshirt off, she stretched back on her bed. She knew she should be horrified, but she couldn’t help but marvel at the way her thick pole stood straight up in the air from between her creamy thighs. She was even more impressed when her left hand traced a path up her smooth form to cup a bloated breast – her body’s unbearable sensitivity made even that a brain-breaking sensation.
Orgasm after orgasm wracked her body with no end in sight as her cock rallied back for another round every single time. The thick meat had grown to a full eight inches long and an inch and a half thick, fully formed with all the normal ridges, veins and skin texture.
The tingling in her pussy had coalesced into a line just below her cock, forming a loose sack of skin which incubated a pair of golf-ball sized testicles. Once that grew in her cumshots became even harder and more unbearably pleasurable, covering herself in thick ropes of cum twice the volume she had been able to before.
She could do nothing but lay back and masturbate as her body grew out of control. Her clitoris swelled behind her new scrotum, the pulsing bud now the size of a marble, and pussy juices pooled under her thighs on the bedsheets. Her hips, once barely wider than her waist, flared out into wide, womanly curves that extended out several inches from her body and curving down into a round, full ass and thick thighs.
Most notably, her tiny breasts were now full, jiggling E cup mounds that curved away from her alabaster chest and wobbled as she pleasured herself. She had watched in fascination between orgasms as they swelled, noting the unbelievable moment when they grew heavy enough to start to droop, the fat flesh folding over itself and dropping against her chest with an audible slap and falling into a teardrop shape.
Still she jerked herself. Even when her transformation finished, leaving her a fully-fledged curvaceous futanari, the overwhelming lust remained, driving her to keep cumming. She knew something at the back of her mind was telling her she should be exhausted, but the transformation brought with it a rush of energy that left her ready and willing for more.
Losing herself in sensation, she didn’t notice as the nighttime hours ticked on, the gradual lightening of the sky outside, or even the bursts of birdsong as morning broke over the little suburban town.
In fact, the only thing which broke Vicki from her reverie was her mother’s scream as she opened the bedroom door. All she could do, laying in the thick layer of cum that marked her nights work, was look her mother in the eye and moan apologetically as her hips started to buck again, spraying her final orgasm of the morning into the air and over her hypersexualised body.
