To know how old a tree was, one could cut it down or core it to count the rings. To see how old a telephone pole, one instead needed to count the nails. Even when it was illegal in certain jurisdictions, people would find a way to advertise something on those poles. It was such a normalized feature of modern life that most people ignore them.
Today, among the signs advertising yard sales and those asking residents of the city to keep their eye out for a lost cat, there were signs advertising a free class hosted by the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic.
In all the fancy typography that could be created in Microsoft Word, the flyer advertised a free class taking place this Saturday at noon. Futanari who struggled with intimacy or had anxiety about their bodies were encouraged to attend the class to help cope with those feelings in a safe and comfortable environment.
For the uninitiated, the futanari are women that, for reasons yet unexplained by science, are born with both sets of genitalia. Stereotypes of futanari as sex-obsessed nymphos with penises the size of baseball bats have swirled around the Internet. Most futa chose to keep their bodies a secret, which led to greater anxiety... something this class was designed to alleviate.
Ten minutes after noon, Billi burst into the studio where the class was being held.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late!" She cried as she went through the doorway before freezing in place.
This room didn't look like a classroom. There was a mirrored wall at the back of the room, and the floor was made of interlocking rubber tiles. There were about a dozen women, standing in pairs. They were quite varied in build, race, hair color and fashion sense. They reminded Billi of a shuffled deck of cards.
And now... they were all looking at her for causing a commotion when entering.
"Oh!" Piped a soft voice from the back of the room, a shapely blonde woman in a white lab coat and short black pencil skirt. She spoke in a slightly musical English accent. "You're not late at all. We were just about to begin."
"Are you Dr. Maddick?" Billi passed through the groups to get towards her.
The doctor grinned and waved her off. "Please. Call me Robin. I get embarrassed when people call me 'Doctor.'"
"OK." Billi was still trying to catch her breath from running around. With how often she'd been left waiting around in doctor's offices, she guessed the doctor would not scold her for her tardiness.
"Would you like some punch before we start?" Robin gestured to the ten-gallon container of punch with the spigot at the bottom, the type upturned onto the coaches at the end of college football games. Besides the punch, there were a few store-brand packages of sandwich cookies, the kind with one vanilla side and one chocolate side.
Billi nodded at the meager spread. "That... sounds good." Billi gasped, moving just as fast to the refreshment table. She filled a paper cup with some form of red liquid, probably fruit punch.
"We were just about to break up into teams before you entered." Robin said. "I guess we'll split up that group of three, now that we have an even number."
One trio standing near the corner looked to each other. One member, a slightly taller African-American woman with dreadlocks and a curvaceous figure, put her hand on one of the other's upper arms.
"We'll have to do this some other time." She said softly, as she left her group and moved towards Billi just in time for her to spill a bit of drink on her white T-shirt. Billi tensed as the woman approached, chucking the paper cup away like it was a cigarette and she had just heard the principal enter the lavatory.
She gulped. "We're... working in pairs?"
"I guess we are." The woman said. "I'm Alice."
"I'm Billi." She shook her hand.
"Could you bring her up to speed, so I don't need to repeat everything and we can get started?" Robin asked Alice.
"I think I can do that." Alice nodded, a soft smile that indicated that she'd like nothing better.
Robin instructed them to go to Room Seven.
Billi had never been to the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic, but she understood that this wasn't actually where it was located. This was a satellite that had been rented out for the day. The room numbers were just standard-sized sheets of paper with bold-type numbers printed onto them and affixed to the door with a few inches of blue painter's tape.
The room itself was maybe six feet by fifteen. It reminded Billi of an art studio space, as if all these rooms had been subdivided to rent them out for a pittance affordable by the average artist. The room had three brick walls with a single window opposite the door and heavily varnished hardwood floors. On the floor, there was a yoga mat and one sturdy-looking chair. There was no other furniture. There wasn't even a power outlet.
"Are we doing yoga to warm up?" Billi asked.
"Something like that." Alice said.
"Only one chair? And one yoga mat?" Billi noticed. "Maybe we'll trade off between floor exercises and chair exercises."
A small independent speaker sitting on the window sill sprang to life with a ring of rainbow colors. Robin's voice emerged from it with surprisingly fidelity. "Hello, everyone. Welcome to the Futanari Sexual Health Clinic's class on Intimacy and Sexual Confidence. You have chosen your partners and have been placed into your private rooms."
Billi didn't get to pick her partner. She remembered getting picked last for gym class and other times during school. Then again, it was her fault for always running late.
The introduction continued, "You all have been briefed, so you know what to do. I will read a list of suggested activities, but you may proceed at any pace you and your partner agree to."
Billi really felt like she had flipped over several pages at once, unsure what was expected of her. She wasn't all that confident in matters of sexuality, and having no idea what was going on didn't seem to be helping.
"You may wish to make sure that you are compatible with your partner." Robin's voice came over the speaker. "Use the provided rulers to ensure proper compatibility."
"What ruler?" Billi squeaked, as Alice produced hers from somewhere, a translucent plastic classroom ruler.
Releasing a single snap on the waistband of her pants, Alice's erection popped up from the waistline and stood straight up, erect and throbbing. Billi gasped and stared at it, putting her hand over her mouth.
Alice couldn't help but grin. She had definitely seen that reaction before, but it meant more when it came from a fellow futa, from someone who knew what dicks were REALLY supposed to look like. She released her waistband and her pants dropped to the floor. With the same motion as bringing two erasers together to clap them of dust, Alice pushed her appendage against the ruler.
"Please remember the rule of thumb." Robin said through the speaker. "The maximum a futa can handle is usually between one and three inches larger than the futa's own penis. If there are any irreconcilable disparities, please come out and we can mix up the partners."
