A Short Story by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)
This is a piece of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. It features explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, or if reading this type of material is unlawful where you reside, don't read it. If you are not old enough to read adult material according to your local laws, don't read it. This story is not meant to reflect actual people, events or medical conditions. This story is copyright the authorΒ©2008
~~~
Lena was in the tub when her boyfriend Richard called to cancel their anniversary dinner.
"Oh,
damn it
," she wailed as she snapped her cell phone shut and stood there on the fluffy bath mat, dripping and seething.
This
always
happens. Does he think I'm unattractive or something?
She knew this was nonsense, even as she thought it. The twentyish, fuming woman in the mirror was a technical knockout. Her body (now artfully concealed by soap suds) was big and curvy in certain places, (the right places, the men in her life fervently assured her) slim and tight elsewhere. Her mane of gold-filtered chestnut curls shone with health and, when properly conditioned and blow-dried, tumbled over the bare-shoulder tops she favored in a flirty cascade. Her butt was fuller than those of the models in Allure or Cosmo, certainly, but she liked the way it filled out her skirts and jeans with what her mother called oomph.
Her mother, a tipsy dear of a retired fashion model, would often slur,
don't you listen to those diet freaks, Lennie. A girl can never have too much
oomph
. She would often follow up such a comment with an approving smack to the oomph in question.
This embarrassed the hell out of Lena during her adolescence whenever she did it in front of Lena's friends, but it also secretly pleased her. Her mother's appreciation of her fleshy curviness was hearty and genuine. That positive body-image, so rare in the offspring of famously skinny parents, sank into Lena and gave her confidence. Moreover, despite her indignant protests, she took an unspoken delight in her beautiful mother's occasional bouts of inappropriate touching. Before she retired at 40, her mother was a very busy woman, frequently gone for long periods on photo shoots and international ad campaigns, and Lena cherished the attention whenever it was lavished upon her.
Her mother would pat her behind, and even heft and squeeze her growing breasts (which surpassed her mother's by her senior year). "My
God
, Lennie," she would say, bouncing them reverently in her palms, "these are
magnificent!
"
She was sure her mother didn't mean anything by it; beneath her cool supermodel sophistication she was just a very earthy and touchy-feely woman. Lena enjoyed it all the same.
All told, she gauged, looking in the mirror, any man would be thrilled to have her. So why was it so damn
hard
to hook up with her own boyfriend?
Richard, all six foot seven gorgeous-brainy inches of him, had a career in computer systems that consumed much of his time, almost as much as Lena's hectic livelihood in publishing did hers. She understood that being a Mainframe Specialist wasn't easy, and occasionally system emergencies did happen, but she had been looking forward to this romantic night out all week. She'd even diddled herself a little in the tub (well,
more
than a little, truth be told), enjoying the anticipation and the way her own heat rose to match the steaming bathwater. And just when she'd gotten all trembly and excited toward the finale, the phone rang. Now everything was ruined.
She yanked the plug on her bath, rinsed, and dried off. She gave the bathroom door an angry slam on her way out and it sprang open again, which just aggravated her bad mood. She'd been putting off repairing that lock for a while now. She didn't like being reminded of it at a time like this.
Her new cocktail dress, silky, daring and now useless, lay spread out upon the bed. It almost made her weep to hang it up, unworn, back in the closet. She had been looking forward to wearing it almost as much as having Richard remove it later. In Lena's book, slipping into a sexy new dress was a religious experience. No point in putting it on now. Damn Richard and his stupid brilliant career.
My life is not working
, she thought.
I need a change. I need sweeping, positive change in my life
.
She threw on her lounging-around-the-house outfit of tank top and sweats and padded down to the kitchen to see what she could rustle up for dinner. Screw the reservations. She hated eating alone in restaurants.
She ran the hot water tap in the kitchen, waiting for the steam to come. She was considering a pasta dish when she saw the sink backing up.
She frowned and stuck a long cooking skewer down the drain and probed around. Nothing. The blockage must be past the U-bend in the pipe. There was also an odd hissing noise. She opened the cupboard under the sink and realized two things: one, she was out of liquid drain cleaner, and two, the bolt at the bottom of the U-bend was spitting like an angry cat.
"Oh...
shit
."
~~~
To top it off, the plumber was a just a girl, younger than Lena by at least five years, and hatefully cheerful.
She was apple-cheeked and friendly. At first, Lena couldn't tell much else about her under her shapeless overalls and dirty baseball cap. Her overalls and cap both bore the company name: Vanderhulst Plumbing. It was seven PM, and Lena suspected the plumber had sent his daughter because he couldn't be bothered to show up himself at this late hour.
The girl doffed her cap, revealing a corn-silk mop pulled into a ponytail. Her eyes were a bright, clever blue, very disarming. She flashed a dimply grin, which showed off a startling mouthful of perfect white teeth and elevated her looks from cute to lovely.
She also had a confident manner that put Lena at ease.
"Have you been a plumber long?" Lena asked as she plunked her toolbox down by the sink.
"Just finished up my apprenticeship. Don't worry, I'm fully certified. I only look like I just learned how to drive. I'm actually twenty-two." She treated Lena to that dazzling smile again.
Lena flushed. They were almost the same age. She hadn't thought her doubts were so obvious. But then again, this girl must spend half her time convincing people she could do her job. And she was good-humored about it to boot.
"It must be difficult," ventured Lena. "Plumbing is such a... well, you know, a
man's
thing."
"It's no more difficult than anything else worth doing. Now, what seems to be the problem, Ms...?"
"Oh, I'm Lena--Lena Peach, hello." She stuck out her hand and the girl gave it a firm shake.
"Patty Vanderhulst. Nice to meet you, Ms. Peach."
"Likewise. Please call me Lena."
"Only if you call me Patty, Lena. Now, you say your sink was backing up?"
The fact that she didn't make some idiotic joke about her family name was refreshing. Lena decided she liked this girl.
"Well, yes. My boyfriend stood me up tonight so I was going to cook for myself..."
"Ouch. Sorry to hear that."