Author's Note:
I tend to write a lot of 'engineered' futuristic scenarios. Hopefully, I'll get out of this phase soon. Not too soon, though. This story contains hermaphrodites (futanari, dickgirl, whatever definition works for you).
* * *
Everyone has an addiction, whether they like to admit it or not. For example, in 1937, the (so-called) Great Scientist Dr. H. Erôss was addicted to creating the perfect human. His sponsor Adolf Hitler wasn't quite aware of his real aims: Dr. Erôss believed that human evolution depended on the joining of the sexes. Not through fucking; he meant it literally.
It was his life's goal.
The Erôss Foundation took up this challenge after his death and expanded on it. Years and years of secret research into human genetic engineering; it was their hidden obsession until 1950, when the labs were opened and the experiments unleashed onto the earth. It changed the face of humanity for good (or for bad; no one can really decide).
But enhanced genetics or not, people are still people, and they have addictions.
I should know.
*
"Lucy. You need... to control... your pheromones," Dr. Julian grunts at me with every thrust of her hips. Her large cock is slamming up inside me, thick and hot and throbbing; she's a genuine Erôss creation, like me, except she has a sweetly solid dick between her legs. Dr. Erôss' wonderful contribution: fewer males, less females, more of the in-between. Most of them are female-oriented, with breasts and a penis; possibly a vaginal slit instead of balls. Some are male-oriented, and you can't tell until you remove their clothing that all you'll get is a pussy.
I don't care, though. My addiction mainly lies in getting fucked.
"Yes, Doctor. Oh,
yes
." I'm panting like a dog inside her office, on my hands and knees on the blue carpet as she plunders my pussy. My head is hanging, my hair is in long dark waves down the sides of my face; some strands are sticking to my sweaty cheek. I look down at my body, seeing her dark hands clutch desperately at my small breasts. Her manicured nails are scraping my skin, there'll be long marks later on, and I love it.
I go down a little further, folding my arms and resting my head on top of them. From here, I can barely make out the dark shaft of her dick slipping inside the pink folds of cunt. I moan softly; it feels so good, the heat and the sweatiness. It's my fault, really. However, I was genetically engineered to give pleasure, and my pheromones are a large part of my design. I have to concentrate very hard to control those natural chemicals, especially when I'm in crowds.
But when I want sex, I can't seem to rein them in at all.
Dr. Julian's teeth scrape at the back of my neck and I cry out, shaking under the assault. My nipples are painfully erect against the smooth palms of her hands and then I hear her groaning sharply behind me. She jerks up into me, three times hard, and on the third massive thrust, I feel warm come flood inside me.
So good
.
I lick my dry lips as she pulls out of me, her jizz dribbling down my thighs. She moves away, the sounds of her unsteady footsteps heading to her desk; I slowly turn over to sit on my behind, adjusting my sensible grey skirt so that it isn't pulled up my hips anymore. She comes towards me, not looking in my face as she hands me some soft facial tissues.
"Thanks, Doctor," I murmur as I dab at my pale thighs. Dr. Julian nods, patting absently at her short hair. She's a tall black woman with curls that have been dyed a deep golden shade. I had wanted her the first moment I had walked into her office.
