Thread: Futanari: Exposed (Maxy x Tellmi_Moore)

Lydia Henning was in trouble. It had started the first day of the new school semester when, in second period, there was an announcement over the PA. All students were to report to the gym for physicals next period. Lydia's heart had sunk, sitting in her desk, listening she knew they would be checking to see that everyone was adhering to the new dress code, which she was in clear violation of. The new Permissiveness Laws were originally designed to help, support and protect the new third gender in American society, and to encourage safe, consensual relationships being fostered between females and futas. Futanari, the third gender, had special needs, and their lobbying groups argued that, to support these needs, they had to be allowed to be public about them. Thusly, they were allowed to feed in public which constituted suckling at the male organ until it discharged in their mouths, futanari only being able to digest male ejaculate. Also incorporated into the Permissiveness Laws were certain compensations for both sides of the issue. Women's Groups, who resented this new gender for being the only viable sources of sperm and breast milk for reproduction, wanted them to be clearly discernable from ordinary women. This was hotly debated, and the idea of making them wear something to differentiate themselves was shot down almost immediately. Having them not wear something, on the other hand, was brought up and eventually ratified. Since futa's special needs were permissible in public, they should identify themselves as the ones allowed to participate in such behaviour, and since the major point of difference between a female and futanari was that futas had penises, then these should be visible, lest there be confusion, at least, that's what the women's groups argued. As such, to different degrees depending on the situation, all gender specific, official uniforms, such as school uniforms, were adjusted accordingly. At school, men wore slacks, women wore skirts, and futas went bottomless completely. The futa groups counter argued that this was unfair, as the women were allowed an unfair special treatment, futas, the argued, being sufficiently burdened by being made to go bottomless. The Women's Groups solution took everyone by surprise, and they allowed a provision, a compromise, that still made the futas go bottomless, but removed the panties from under the short skirts of the uniforms, the argument being that, other than visibility, both female and futa women wearing such uniforms now had the same supposed hardships provided by cold air or cold seating, etc. All in the name of fairness. The East Coast schools, however, took it a step further, having a much smaller futa population, and changed their dress codes to remove the rest of the futa's dress code entirely, citing the fact that it was a choice, not a requirement, for futas to attend these schools, and that conditions of the Permissiveness Laws in effect removed all indecent exposure rules and many of the lewd behaviour rules for futanari specifically. Though these policies were being challenged in court, as of this semester, Lydia's school had instituted the new dress code, and Lydia was in violation of it. This was not just because she was secretly wearing panties under her skirt, but that she was wearing clothing at all. Lydia had a penis. And barely anyone knew about it. Like many students, she had lost her parents in the plague that had swept across the world five years ago, and changed the biology of all of the survivors, making men sterile and certain women into futas. And like many, she lived in government housing government housing for girls, not futas. She was in violation of several laws even being inside the female girls' dormitory, not the least of which was the new sexual trespassing laws that kept futas out of the women's locker rooms, dormitories and bathrooms. Lydia ground her knees together, and tugged at her wool mini-skirt, fidgeting. They had been checking to make sure the female students weren't wearing panties, and, the next in line, lifting her skirt, there hadn't been a lot of comment at her panties or the lump they contained. She was just asked to lower her skirt and to the vice principle's office, which she did, where she was now. She had been asked the strip, which she had, reluctantly, and her clothes were taken away while she waited in the outer office, covering her breasts with one arm, and her genitals with the other, she held back the sobs as she contemplated her position. She was on the field hockey team, and so lived in the team's special dormitory. She was the team's captain, so no one thought it overly suspicious of her getting called to the coach's office after practice, or arriving early for practice. She changed before everyone arrived, and satisfied her... needs, with the coach afterwards and changed in his office. He was probably going to be fired for engaging in sexual acts with a student, but Lydia barely cared at this point for his wellbeing. Well, Miss Henning, you are in quite a bit of trouble, aren't you? the vice principle said, when Lydia was finally ushered into her office. The vice principle was an older woman, and had been a head mistress at a boarding school in England before moving to the US. Y-yes, Ma'am. The vice principle turned some pages in a manila folder on her desk. Lydia shivered in her nakedness. Her penis was misbehaving, standing erect behind her arm, it jabbed at the inside of her elbow. At this point, Miss Henning, I think we should be able to avoid legal charges, though I would recommend transferring to a private school at the this point, one with your 'special needs' in mind. Otherwise, I think probation should be all that's needed. Mrs. Richards has offered to house you at her house for tonight, while accommodations are made for you at a Special Needs Girl's Home. Lydia tensed. She knew what these homes really were, and she shuddered remembering the stories she had heard. We also expect you to adhere precisely to the dress code from now on, as such, your other clothes from your room are being confiscated. Now, she slid a stack of papers and a pen across the table. Why don't you tell us exactly how you've managed to keep your... condition hidden for this long and who has been helping you. Lydia had, of course screw Coach Anderson, she wasn't going to jail for him. Mrs. Richards a history teacher and a futanari herself, lived on the outskirts of town with her futanari wife, and so it was not improper for Lydia to spend time with them un-chaperoned. Are you hungry, honey? Mrs. Richards had said in the car. Lydia hadn't answered, but her stomach, growling loudly, answered for her. Jenny Richards was naked and barefoot on the ride home with Lydia, but when she got there she put on a shirt and a pair of house slippers. Her wife, Francine Richards, was wearing a pair of denim chaps, which exposed her bum and crotch, and a buttoned flannel shirt and cowgirl boots she was apparently the caretaker of a wide swath of property left abandoned after the plague, upkeeping the grounds and houses in anticipation of the population reaching levels to where they could be filled and occupied again. One of the main reasons for the Permissiveness Laws was to encourage pregnancies to expand the population 80 of the human race having been extinguished during the plague. Francine set up one of the sofas for Lydia. She spent most of the evening curled up on it under the covers, quiet. During dinner, Lydia looked down into her bowl dubiously. It had been a long time she had eaten anything worthwhile out of a bowl. She sometimes ate soup at restaurants with friends, to keep up appearances, but it would almost always give her an upset stomach afterwards. She never saw her food now, Coach Anderson always cumming when his cock was well into her mouth, and sometimes even in her throat lost most futas, she no longer had much of a gag reflex. Lydia dipped her spoon in the hot, steaming bowl of white liquid. The Richards looked at her from across the table, spooning the hot semen to their lips like soup. What's wrong, hun? Jenny asked. Where did this come from? Oh, we have a friend who freezes his semen for us, we heat it up in the microwave. Does it really keep that well? Well, Francine pondered. You have to keep it in a real good deep freeze, but yeah, lasts pretty much forever. Not legal or buy or sell, though, not yet anyway, but I'm guessing it will be soon enough. Oh... she spooned some of it into her mouth. She stopped with the spoon in her mouth. Oh my god, she said around the spoon, her eyes wide. You okay, hun? Jenny said with a look of genuine concern on her face. Oh my god...! This is... good! She quickly started to shovel the hot bowl of cum into her mouth, practically licking the bowl clean when she was done. Can I have some more? The two women smiled at each other, and Francine got Lydia another bowl full. She had two more after that. After eating, she was in a slightly better mood. She wished she could stay with the Richards and live with them from now on, but she couldn't bring herself to ask the imposition. Lying on the sofa, after her hostesses had gone to bed, she felt a deep ache in her groin, and her penis was rock hard and poking her in the belly. Being so full, and so naked, it was hard to make it go down. She tossed off the covers and rolled over onto her back, spread her legs and began fingering herself with one hand, stroking her eight inch cock with the other. She imagined herself getting fucked by Jenny and Francine simultaneously, each helping to stroke Lydia's cock with a one hand each. Squeezing her breasts between her upper arms, she shuddered and came, splashing her face and breasts with her own cum, and passing out, exhausted from the day's stresses. In the morning, neither Francine or Jenny commented on the state they came downstairs to find the girl in, dried cum on her face and breasts, just suggested she go clean herself up in the downstairs bathroom and that Jenny would get her breakfast and drive her to school. The bowl hot steamy cum had milk and honey mixed into it, and she had flashbacks of being a little girl, eating oatmeal for breakfast. She missed real food. You not hungry, hun? Jenny said, sipping her mug of mint tea. Hm? Lydia looked up, realizing she had been idly poking at her breakfast with her spoon while she reminisced. Oh, no, it's fine, I just... I'm fine. Does your chest hurt? You look a little swollen. She pointed to her charge's breasts. Lydia looked down she hadn't milked herself since early before class yesterday. Futanari had the unfortunate condition of constant lactation, in contrast to females, who could no longer lactate at all. It was probably why women resented futas so much they could both bear children and sire them, they were adored by males, who they pleasured orally constantly, and even if a futa did impregnate a female, they would then again need the futa to nurse the baby once it was born. If a futa impregnated another, there was a fifty-fifty percent chance that the child would be either male or futa, if a futa impregnated a female, the child could either be female or futa. Theoretically, if females went extinct, futas could carry on the human race without them. This fear, coupled with the fact that females made up the vast majority of the population, made for an atmosphere of sharp prejudice against them, kept at bay only by the fact that the human race would certainly go extinct without the futanari. I'm a... Lydia touched her breast and winced. Yeah, a little tender. You should milk yourself three times a day, otherwise you'll swell up. I generally do I hid... I had a milk pump under my bed. Oh, I don't like those things. We have one in the bathroom, in the cabinet if you want to use it, though. After breakfast four bowls of honey flavoured, reconstituted semen she milked herself in the bathroom and Jenny drove them to school. She didn't have a backpack, or any clothes with her, not even the belts and bracelets and anklets futa girls had taken to wearing instead of clothes, and which the campus allowed. What was worse, everyone saw her naked and erect. Some must have thought there was a new student, not recognizing her, but her friends, acquaintances and team-mates all went wide-eyed with shock and, in some cases, anger. Her first class was hard, sitting at her desk, with her penis rubbing against the underside of it, the cold plastic against her butt, the sting of cold metal legs against her bear legs and feet. The next class was harder. Third period harder still the looks and glares of female class members. Her forth period class was history, and she had it with Mrs. Richards. She sat in the front row and didn't have to look at the sideways glances of the other girls, and could exchange encouraging, optimistic glances with her naked teacher. At the end of the period, it was lunch. Lydia, hold on a moment, Mrs Richards called out. Lydia turned in the doorway. Yes, Mrs. Richards? I wanted to ask you... do you have... a 'special friend' yet? A special friend, Mrs. Richards? You know, for lunch? Oh... she meant a boy to feed off of. No, Ma'am. Well, why don't you have lunch here with me in the classroom. She pulled an extra large soup thermos out of her desk drawer and a styrofoam bowl. Between them the polished off the thermos together. Lydia seemed to pass the next two periods of classes in a daze. After she put her notebook and pens and books back in her locker because where else was she going to put them? she walked automatically to the back field behind the gym, not even thinking, just going their automatically like every day after classes. Looking up, shocked, she realized her error. She took a step backwards, her bare feet digging into the hard packed dirt of the path around the side of the gym. The girls were exchanging glances and short, clipped phrases Lydia couldn't quite make out. She had seen this before from the other side. This wasn't a regular practice, this was the hour before practice where half the team was doing library study or study hall. There was another hour like this one before classed began in the very early morning, but this was the hour these girls generally hunted. It was always a different lure, a different person not otherwise associated with these girls, these Huntresses. There were other girls here who were not on the team, who spent this hour sitting on the bleachers. The lure would be another girl or a boy if they could manage it who would trick a futa to follow her behind the gym where the others would be waiting. This had been going on all last semester, and Lydia couldn't imagine they would be able to do this much longer before everyone knew not to follow people behind the gym, but for right now it was still working. This was the hour Lydia had usually been sucking Coach Anderson's cock for her second and last meal of the day only once had she seen a full hunt, a boy leading a futa behind the gym for a late-afternoon suck, when he abandons her and girls rush in from the sides and grabs her. Lydia looked to her right and saw two girls sneaking up on her they stop and their eyes meet. Then Lydia is jerked to the ground by girls rushing up on her from her left. Struggling only earns her a field-hockey stick to her gut, knocking the wind out of her, and give the others time to grab and hold down her arms and legs, two girls on each leg, one on each arm. A seventh girl crouched between Lydia's splayed legs and began slapping Lydia's thighs and, holding her cock up, her pussy, testing, like a junky slapping to get a vein. Lydia was still gasping as the girl between her legs began fingering her anus, making her loose her breath again. Another girl came up between Lydia's legs and began rubbing her cock, slapping it and, as it began to hardened, stroking it. Please stop! she managed to shout, her inward breath a rasp after she did so. Please! she sobbed, coughing. She screamed briefly, and got another hit with the stick to the ribs. Just as she felt she could make another pleading, screaming attempt, the girl who had been stroking her cock stood over Lydia and lowered herself onto her, mounting Lydia's cock and sliding it into her, leaning forward to grip both hands around Lydia's throat and squeezed Lydia's neck with her hands and Lydia's cock with her puss. You want to breathe, you don't scream, yes? Lydia tried to nod, but couldn't, tried to speak but couldn't. The girl seemed to understand because she loosened her grip, allowing Lydia to breath, if only just. Using her legs, she began riding Lydia's cock. Her breath coming in quick, shallow breaths, Lydia recognized the girl as Tiffany Collins from the field-hockey team. She had eaten lunch with her, lived with her in the girl's dorm for nearly a year. One of the girl's holding her leg was Susan Gilbert she had a chemistry lab with her. Do it! She'll like it, someone said outside of Lydia's field of vision, and giggled. The girl she couldn't see pulled the two fingers she was using out of Lydia's asshole and, it seemed, would leave her alone. Then she felt something cold and metal against her puss, twisting against her and finally being shoved into her roughly, causing her to shout out, sobbing, and Tiffany clamped down on her throat again as she continued thrusting her pelvis down against Lydia's lap. Please stop, please stop, stop! she whispered as the girl began thrusting the metal object in and out of her and began to reinsert two fingers into her asshole. Pleeeease...! Hah! Look at this slut, she's begging for it, laughed one of the girls holding her down, Lydia's eyes were too blurred with tears. Sit up, Tiffany, I've got her, came a familiar voice. Tiffany leg go of Lydia's throat and sat up. Susan let go of Lydia's leg for a moment and hugged Tiffany, kissing her and tickling her briefly, making her smile wider as she began to moan. There was a new girl holding Lydia's throat, sitting above her and looking, upside down, down at her. It was Alice Yates the star of the team and, undoubtedly the new captain now that Lydia had been suspended from all extracurricular activities. She was smiling. The quicker you cum, the quicker you can sleep, sweety. Futanari had an issue with orgasming seven out of ten futas orgasmed both penally and vaginally at the same time, creating orgasms to intense they would almost always black out. When Tiffany leaned back to make out with her girlfriend, Susan, two other girls descended and started suckling on her breasts there was a rumour that futa milk made females more receptive to impregnation. They would probably all have their turn riding Lydia after she passed out until she couldn't cum anymore, at which point she would be dragged under the bleachers until she woke up and would be chased off by the field hockey team, often with thrown rocks or trash. Lydia just looked back up at Alice, accusingly, her breathing becoming even harder as her muscles began to tense in her thighs and tummy, her whole torso tightening. She was getting close.