Last Summer

One of a quartet of stories written back in 2014 and self-published under the titles

Synthie

and

Synthie Recalibrated

. This one is a separate story, but continues the theme of futanari.

*

Last summer I was helping to manage the inventory at the National Museum, which involved at lot of opening dusty boxes in the huge basement store to check contents and create a new computer database. By and large it was interesting work, except for the whole week spent looking at collections of insects. There were lots of exotic artefacts too from ancient civilisations and tribal cultures.

One in particular caught my eye. Carved from mahogany and inscribed with strange symbols was a round shaft of wood twelve inches long and thick enough that my fingers couldn't reach around. With a bulbous, domed head at one end, it was undeniably shaped like a giant cock, and just holding it made my insides tickle with arousal.

There was a card in the box with the note: "Phallic representation of local deity, part of Collection DF '83." I guessed that meant 1883, judging by the age of the box and the card. I hadn't seen anything else from that collection.

Reluctant to put it away just yet, I put the box to one side and continued my work, hoping to come across more items from the mysterious collection. But without luck. Throughout the rest of the day, I was distracted by thoughts of that divine cock, and the perverse fantasy of being penetrated and stretched and filled by it -- by a god, indeed -- made me return to it often, to pick it up, examine its detail, and I think it was only the fact that I would want to clean it thoroughly before touching it to any other part of my body that made me resist it.

At the end of the day, I still couldn't pack it away. I wrapped the precious member in a cloth to protect it and disguise it, because it was too long to fit wholly in my handbag, and took it home with me. While making dinner, I cleaned the shaft with soapy water and antibacterial disinfectant, hoping this wouldn't damage it, and it sat on the table beside me as I ate.

I couldn't believe how stupid I was being, stealing an ancient artefact from the museum to use as a sex toy. I couldn't believe I was even thinking about putting that monstrously huge shaft inside me. Would it even fit? Out of curiosity, I brought the head to my lips, and after a moment's hesitation opened my mouth -- and managed to get the head past my teeth. It filled my mouth grotesquely, and my lips were tight around the shaft behind it.

For the first time in my life I had a cock in my mouth, and I loved it. I could no longer deny the pressure of my arousal. Replacing the magnificent cock on the table, I stripped from my jeans and my knickers, which were embarrassingly wet, then decided to strip completely. My nipples were hard, and I caressed the sensitive tips with my fingers, then shivered as I brushed them with the wooden shaft.

I threw a towel on the sofa and sat on it, and once again took the thick head into my mouth. As I licked and sucked, imagining myself giving the unseen god a blowjob, my fingers sought out my clit and stroked, quickly finding the familiar pattern that worked best for me. I couldn't help thinking how absurdly sluttish I must look like, sitting there naked, fingering my way to a climax with the head of a giant wooden dildo stretching my jaws wide.

It would normally take me a while to achieve orgasm, but I was so aroused, and had been for hours, that I came quickly. I tried to remove the cock from my mouth as I did, to breath better, but the ridge caught somehow against my teeth, as if the head had swollen inside my mouth, and -- distracted as I was -- I wasn't able work it out until after the waves of my climax had subsided. (There had been a moment's panic when I thought it was stuck for good. I would have to drive to the hospital with the huge cock projecting from my mouth!)

Laughing with relief, and relief, I put the cock down and switched the TV on, reaching for a nearby blanket to cover myself. But I couldn't concentrate on the TV. I wanted that shaft inside me. I spread my legs and brought the shaft between them, and rubbed the huge head along my pussy, gliding it between my lips and across my clit, and back, thrusting my hips gently in time with this stroking, until I could bear it no more.

Standing the cock on the floor on its flat base, I squatted over it, aligning the shaft and head with my pussy, then slowly, slowly, lowered myself onto it. It was far longer and thicker than anything I'd ever had in me before. I sat on the thick head, feeling it trying to stretch me and penetrate me, and I almost gave up, overwhelmed by the pain, and fearing the damage it would do to me. (I know vaginas can handle babies and this was nothing in comparison, but it didn't feel that way.)

But then it pushed in and I cried out with astonishment, pain and pleasure fusing into one. I recovered quickly and gradually worked myself lower and lower, taking the huge dildo deeper and deeper, glorying in the feeling of being stretched to the point of bursting. Until it reached the end of me and I knew it could go no further.

I knelt there in ecstasy, an ecstasy shattered a minute later as I felt the shaft start to vibrate inside me. The impossibility of this terrified me, but I was so stretched that the shaft was tight against my clit, and the building vibrations echoed pleasure through my whole body. I could do nothing but sit there and accept the inexplicable pleasure.

I cried out as I felt the cock slipping out of me. I reached down to push it back in, but before I could it thrust up into me by itself, making me cry out again from shock and wonder. Again it slipped out, a little further, and this time I waited for the thrust, welcomed it, and as its fucking grew harder and deeper I worked my hips in time with it.

I crushed my breasts and pinched my nipples as I was fucked by my unseen god, and was driven swiftly to a fresh climax. But the cock was relentless and ignored my over-sensitivity. Its vibrating, thrusting invasion continued, forcing me to yet another climax, and another. Until, wiped out, all I could do was lie twitching on the floor as it fucked its way impossibly deep into me and unconsciousness claimed me.

*

I woke about an hour later, my joints stiff and aching from the position I had collapsed in, my whole vagina pulsing with bruised complaint, my bladder full with aching need. Groaning, I forced myself to my feet, and in doing so made a discovery that shocked me to the core. I think I even screamed in that moment of pure terror.

Dangling heavily from my crotch, a deep mahogany brown in contrast to my fair skin, was a penis. I grabbed the wrinkly, ugly thing, trying to tear it off, but it was very real, truly a part of me. "No!" I cried out, and anguished tears filled my eyes.

But as I explored around it, I was relieved to find that my woman parts were as they'd always been, although rather battered and sensitive at that moment. My new cock, I understood, had something to do with the ancient, magical phallus that had fucked me so relentlessly. It had joined with me, changed my anatomy grotesquely. At least, I thought, it hadn't given me balls.

Needing desperately to pee, I hurried through to the bathroom and sat on the loo, realising only just in time that my anatomy might have changed in other ways. Quickly I directed my new penis into the bowl, even as urine jetted out from the tip, and I cried out in amazement. For the first time since waking I smiled, thinking how in future I would be able to pee standing up. A silver lining to every cloud.

In the bedroom, I stood before the long mirror and examined my new self. I was the same as before, except for that new appendage. I explored with my fingers, wondering what it would look like erect, wondering what sex would be like, and as if in answer the dark creature stirred. It swelled and stiffened gradually, erecting slowly from dangling limpness to up-thrusting rigidity. A living version of the wooden shaft I had brought home.

I caressed the great length with my hands, a delightful sensation, and teased the soft head that seemed almost to look at me with its one eye. In playing with my new cock, my whole body reacted, my nipples stiffening too, a tickling heat in my much abused vagina. With one hand I pinched my nipples gently, while the other stroked my dark length with determination.

I could feel the tension mounting steadily, but my arm, unused to this action, tired swiftly, and I changed hands, working my cock with my left hand instead. Precum dribbled from the head, and out of curiosity I scooped some up to taste it, and decided I liked the salty flavour. Soon all I could think about was reaching the crest of my pleasure, and wrapping both hands now about the shaft I thrust with my hips, fucking my own hands, until with a strangled, anguished cry I achieved orgasm, and in its wake my new cock erupted, a great stream of white cum splashing against the mirror. Several more magnificent pulses of my cock sent jets of cum flying to the mirror, before fading to a gentle pulsing that brought a last trickle of cum that ran down my shaft. Curious again, I tasted it. It was weird, but not unpleasant.

*

After cleaning the mess on the mirror and jumping into the shower to clean myself, resisting the urge to play further with my shrivelled penis, I slipped weary but refreshed into bed, and fell swiftly asleep -- forgetting to set my alarm.

I woke in a panic, knowing from the light that it was late, that I would be late for work. Indeed, it was a good minute before I recalled what had happened the previous night and started screaming, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" repeatedly. My new penis was quite definitely still there. I couldn't go to work with a penis.

But I needed to go to work. I needed my job. I needed to find something that would explain and undo my transformation. The doctors wouldn't help. At best they'd chop it off, and how on Earth would I explain how it got there. No one would believe in a magical phallus.

"At least I don't have balls," I muttered as I hunted for underwear that might fit comfortably, then dressed hurriedly -- in jeans, certainly not a dress -- and raced out the house. I just managed to catch the bus. I had to choose between sitting with the kids yelling at the back, a large business man occupying more than half the seat, and a young lady. Some choice.

She was about my age, a pretty face with pale skin and long, wavy, blonde hair, wearing black trousers and black roll-neck beneath a green leather jacket. She barely looked at me as I glided into the seat next to her. I sighed, disappointed. Straight. Still, I thought to myself morosely, even if she were gay she'd run a mile when she discovered what was in my pants. Most of my ex-girlfriends would agree that if they never saw another penis until the day they died, that would be too soon.

That didn't stop me wondering what Straight Girl would make of it. What would she do if I took her hand and put it on my crotch, let her feel the bulge hardening beneath the fabric? Would her eyes open in wonder? Would she pop open the button and pull down my fly, freeing the caged monster to grow between her fingers as she stroked the eager length? Would she whisper, "Oh my God, it's huge!" before bending over to take the head between her lips, licking and sucking and moaning like an A-list porn star? Would she look up into my eyes and beg me to come in her mouth, before returning her attention to my aching cock, stroking the hard shaft with one hand until I could stand it no more? And I would cry out my pleasure for the whole bus to hear, while I held her head in position, making her drink every last drop of the cum she had begged for...

One disadvantage of having a penis became swiftly apparent to me, though hopefully not to anyone else. My erotic fantasy woke the slumbering beast and as it swelled and thickened and tried to straighten, my knickers denied it. The slight bulge in my jeans became a very definite bulge, one I was desperate to reach my hand into so that I could adjust my suffering cock. Instead, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, banishing all erotic thoughts until at sweet last the beast slept again.

On a mischievous whim, I whispered "Thank you!" in her ear before standing. It was my stop. I didn't look back.

*

Alone in the basement I worked quickly but thoroughly, searching always for the slightest clue to my predicament. By lunch time I was starving. I'd missed breakfast, and had been through quite a workout the previous night.

The staff canteen was full of women. There were men there too, but they didn't interest me. I was suddenly very aware of the women, though, and more than usual. Not least because of the serpent stirring between my legs. I was beginning to understand what it must be like to be a man, to have your body raising an antenna to broadcast your secret thoughts.

I stamped down on my thoughts as much as possible, but then Cherryl sat down opposite me, telling me all about her weekend plans. Another straight woman, and ten years older than me, but with huge breasts that never failed to catch my eye. For the first time in my life I wondered what it would be like, not only to grab those beauties and suck on her nipples, but also to squeeze them together and thrust my cock between them. It was just a fleeting thought, but the image stuck in my mind, and was swiftly joined by the image of her lips wrapped around my length, and the image of her bent over the canteen table while I drove my huge cock deep into her soaking pussy.

I tried in vain to adjust the bulge in my jeans, hidden mercifully beneath the table. To make things worse, I could feel the wetness seeping into my knickers from my own soaking pussy. I sat there through lunch, listening to Cherryl, distracted by the torture of my own imagination.

I excused myself and headed out into the public part of the museum, to one of the more secluded restrooms, and dropped my trousers and knickers to free my poor, suffering cock. It sprang out eagerly, and with one hand rubbing my clit and the other stroking my proud length, I worked my way to a much needed -- though awkwardly messy -- orgasm.

It hadn't, though, been a particularly satisfying orgasm, I reflected as I returned to the basement. It had certainly taken the pressure off, but what I really wanted, and needed, was a woman. One that wouldn't run screaming at the sight of my giant cock. And that was a depressing thought.

*

On the bus home, I was startled to see Straight Girl, as pretty as I remembered her. I slid into the empty seat beside her and said, "Hello again."

She looked at me, her eyes puzzled but not threatening. Intense eyes, blue as the sea and just as easy to drown in. I tore myself away from their lure before I did something stupidly wonderful like kiss her. Still, the way she was looking at me, I had to wonder if she really was straight. I hate this bit where you're flirting with a girl and you don't know if there's any hope at all that she'll find you attractive.

One part of my anatomy didn't care either way, and I groaned internally as I felt the serpent awaken. They say the penis has a mind of its own, and I was certainly discovering the truth of that. Images from my morning fantasy flickered through my thoughts. On the one hand I wanted to get to know this girl, taking my time, discovering her one layer at a time, starting with a tender, tentative kiss. On the other I wanted to ravish her, tear her clothes off, take her firm, perfect breasts into my mouth and bite her hard nipples.

I pulled away with an anguished cry and covered my face with my hands, trying desperately to think of anything except what I wanted to do with this girl. I didn't care if she was straight or not, I wanted this girl badly. My contorted penis ached to be free, to be released from the cruel bondage of my knickers.

She put her hand on my shoulder. Pleasure like electricity. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you're in pain. Shall I call for help?"

"No one can help me," I whispered, then uncovered my face and looked at her. Her face was so close to mine, her expression filled with such empathy, I could no longer deny the impulse. I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers a brief moment's stolen joy.

She pulled away, staring at me in shock. "Sorry," I said, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. Not looking at her, I stood to go, even though my stop was still a few minutes away.

Before I could, she grabbed hold of my wrist, pulling me gently back onto the seat next to her. I stared at her in confusion. "If you're going to kiss me," she said, a smile teasing her lips, "at least do it properly."

Relief washed through me, and I grinned cheekily for a moment as I adjusted my sitting position to be able to kiss her better. And, ahh, what a kiss. Tentative and explorative like any first kiss between two girls getting to know each other better, quickly building in confidence, and as the tip of her tongue darted between my lips I realised she was no bi-curious straight girl.

A familiar sharp bend in the road informed me my stop was next. I broke off the kiss, caught for a moment between routine and the need to stay with Not-Straight Girl. "What is it?" she asked.

"This is my stop," I said. "Would you like to come up for coffee?"

She didn't hesitate at all. "I'd love to," she said. We shared a conspiratorial smile and I reached for the button.

*

A new difficulty soon presented itself. The natural position for holding a girl to kiss her, when both girls are standing, brings crotch close to crotch. Once out of the bus, we grabbed each other hungrily for another a kiss, and in the heat of the moment I quite forgot my new addition. I sighed with pleasure at the pressure of her against my aching, tangled cock -- and then we jumped apart as if we'd received an electric shock.

She recovered quickly. "Packing, eh?" she asked with a sly smile.

I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to lie. I wanted her to see it and hold it and make love to it, though right then I cursed its existence bitterly. "Sort of," I said. "I'll show you when we're inside." I certainly wasn't about to drop my trousers in public.

*

I led her to my flat, stopping frequently for too-brief kisses, but as soon as we were inside her mouth was at my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my left shoulder and back up to my ear, while one hand moulded itself around my right breast and caressed my hard nipple through the soft wool of my top.

I was melting under her attack, but also starting to panic. "How about coffee?" I said, pushing her gently away.

"Fuck coffee," she said. "I want to see what you've got in your trousers."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, but come and sit down first." I took her through to the living room and waited until she made herself comfortable on the sofa. "You are the first person to see this," I said. "If you decide you want to leave, I'll understand, but I really hope you'll stay."

"Get on with it," she growled, trying not to laugh.

I kicked off my heels and pulled my socks off to begin with, trying to add an element of striptease to it, leaving the grand reveal to the end. My top was next, my bra following. I stood before her, breasts bare -- a good size and shape, if I say so myself -- and apart from the bulge in my trousers unquestionably a woman. "Do you like what you see?" I asked.

"I'd like to examine them properly," she said, grinning. "Are they firm and natural? What do they taste like?"

"You'll get your chance," I said, unbuttoning my jeans and slowly lowering the zip. "Are you sure you want to see?"