Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Some people say their dream job was strange. Like wanting to be a writer of occult fiction, or pursuing a career in storm chasing, but Coconut never felt that way about her ideal profession. She simply wanted to be of use, to help and care for any that needed her. Assuming they were futanari of course. And so, she applied for Futa Care the second an opening came up. It didn't matter to her what it entailed, if it meant working with futanari, then she would happily do the work.
She honestly didn't think she'd get it. Futa Care was a massive conglomerate that only hired the best, of which she was far from, having barely graduated high school with a B- average and never even attempted college. This was her dream, and people shouldn't wait for their dreams. Still, she had her doubts when the response came through on her phone. She was with her family, everyone ready console her.
But that proved unnecessary.
"I got the job!" Coconut leapt up and hugged her device like a newborn kitten. Her own tail fluttered, releasing the nervous energy she'd been building for the past week, so it could be replaced by joy.
"No way," Pineapple, her sister, said and walked over. She was a good two inches taller, though it didn't mean much when Coconut was only five-foot-three, "Holy shit, Jackie, come see this." Her other sibling rushed to join them, huddling in close to read carefully.
"This has to be a mistake. It says they're hiring you for a managerial position, but... You're you," Jackie said, casting a hand over her shorter sister's visage.
Coconut pouted, "What do you mean? I can manage people."
"She has a point," Pineapple muttered, "Her boobs are big enough to keep people in line, for fear they'll be crushed anyway."
"Hey!" Their mother interjected, chest bouncing over, "Coco worked hard to cultivate those breasts, just like me. You might not know this, but looking after big boobs isn't a simple job." The older pair looked down at their, not-quite flat chests, which may as well be when compared to Coconut or their mom. The latter at least tried downplaying her endowments by hunching over around them, but it was pointless when all her clothes showed half a foot of cleavage.
"Fine, whatever," Pineapple said and returned to her seat, "I still think it's bogus."
"Want to bet how long it'll take them to realise?" Jackie asked.
"Sure."
"I'll show you," Coconut said, folding her arms over her prodigious chest, "I can totally be a manager. Just need to look up what to do."
For the next week, Coconut tried to get up to speed with her new duties. They wanted her to start the week after, and for her to move into the company apartment complex beforehand, so she thought time was on her side. Between packing her stuff and researching the position, all her attention went to the latter. And so, with less than a week to go, she was in her new home. How long they'd let her keep it was anyone's guess.
"Okay, need to study. Unpacking can wait! Hmm, what's that?" Coconut noticed a bottle on the spotless kitchen counter, like they'd cleaned the place just for her. It was pills and labelled simply; 'enhancements'. A notification got her attention and found a text from her new boss, telling her the pills are a natural stimulant and would help acclimate to her new position. How thoughtful!
Futa Care had some of the best leaps in pharmaceuticals in recent years. She could put her faith in their little wonder pill and focus on unpacking. If things went this smoothly the rest of the time, she'd like working there. Plus there must be a ton of beautiful futanari around the offices, meaning she might meet one. It was just unfortunate that her home town didn't have any futanari in its population, but it was small. Who'd want to live there anyway?
Here in the big city, she might finally meet one. Coconut sorted her bed out first and laid on it, looking through her gallery of famous futanari, or herms in some circles. Being such a small town was torture for her, being a hermosexual - a phrase the internet coined and firmly stuck. Girls just didn't do enough for her, neither did boys, but something futanari infatuated her. Just a glimpse of a bulge on an otherwise feminine body enticed her more than her mother's legendary salmon dish. Testimonials proved that she would run home, regardless of rain or shine, injured or not, just to eat it.
As she looked through, her gallery naturally turned to the futa starts of the internet. That is to say, porn stars. Her favourite clips played before her, naturally turning the catgirl on. Her tail curled, trying to pull on her shorts, while her snatch moistened. She wriggled on the bed, grinding her tits into the sheets, until her arousal demanded that she focus on the real issue. The subsequent orgasm drowned out all her worries and she slept through her first night in the city.
The other days went by in similar fashion. She didn't worry about the management, certain the enhancement pills would work, and spent her time doing what she did best; pining for every herm online. How was it that, in the 21st century when futa populations were booming, she just couldn't meet one? That'd soon change.
She masturbated every night. It wasn't uncommon for her, at only twenty-one, she had plenty of hormones rampaging about, not to mention her mother claimed she also had a terrifying sex drive at her age. Something felt different about it, though she couldn't place the feeling exactly. Coconut had experienced many bouts of heat since puberty, though her season wasn't until next month, yet that telltale warmth in her lower belly was there.
"It's just nerves," Coconut said even as she swiped at her pussy with her tail, hands busy with her phone and breast, "Once I get started, this'll all go away."
That's the spirit she thrived on until the fateful morning of her first day on company grounds. She'd expected to receive some correspondence informing her of various duties, or at least an orientation day to familiarise herself with the building and it's workers, but they only ushered her into reception. A nice cow-girl greeted and directed her to an elevator that took her up to the sixty-ninth floor. There, she took a seat outside her boss's office and waited.
People came and went, none of them too dressed up. Everyone seemed casual in the workplace, many outfitted with nothing but shirts and khakis, which soothed her nerves. She'd wanted to wear a suit for her first day, but with the weather and her internal body temp, it'd leave her a sweaty mess. Instead, she opted for a cute, but conservative camisole with some jean shorts that showed off the tan on her arms and legs. She fiddled with her hair as she waited, counting the seconds.
"Sorry for keeping you," a pleasant woman of horse ancestry said. Her sleek, perky ears gave it away, as did her physique, "Won't be another five minutes. Here, for your troubles." They handed Coconut a tall glass of water, refreshingly clear and even iced, perfect for the nervous heat in her belly.
