01

This is the start of another long one, and another of my less mainstream entries. I put it in sci-fi because it deals with a dimensional crossover, and one of the main characters is a futanari.

Content disclosure: as mentioned, the story includes a futanari character (a "full" one, meaning she's a true hermaphrodite but with "extras"), suggested incest with stepsiblings, some mind-control or drugged sex depending on your interpretation, and some instances of non-consensual sexual encounters. It also involves several characters in high school, though as usual all sexual encounters are between 18 year olds or older individuals.

The story also has a somewhat dark and melodramatic tone. I know that put people off some of my other stories. This is a very character-focused tale; there isn't a larger threat or looming conflict, it's mostly the characters interacting with and dealing with themselves. There is a villain of sorts, but their impact on the story is not significant for a while.

If all of that hasn't put you off reading, I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to the reactions; I honestly have no idea what people will think of this one.

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***

Prologue

***

Rhiatsukojun

I came to slowly. The padding of the floor felt odd. It was soft, of course, but it didn't feel like the padded gel of a military facility, nor like the mats of a domicile. It was also bright. I kept my eyes shut and pushed myself up, then decided to lay back down for a moment while my stomach remembered what gravity was and why it should obey it where my stomach's contents were concerned.

I couldn't remember my recent past, but that was typical after a transit, particularly an emergency transit if I hadn't been prepared. The nausea and light sensitivity were other symptoms, and I would be ravenously hungry soon as my body would go into overdrive replacing nutrients. I ran my hand up my body.

My smart-fabric uniform was still on, but my flight suit and sidearm were gone. That was also expected; anything not molecularly bonded to the body didn't make the transit. Before smart-fabric became standard, there had been a lot of interesting situations in the aftermath of transits, because of the final side effect, one unique to us.

I was horny as hell.

My cock strained against the fabric keeping it contained, and I could feel the wetness from my pussy soaking my uniform crotch faster than the nanomachines that made it up could process. I inhaled through my nose.

That almost set off a coughing fit. I was on a planet; there were far too many smells for it to be a station or a ship. That explained how badly I reacted to it. Where in the Empress' name was I? We were 50,000 anzi from Sanjiang III and it was a boiling rock with no moons. The closest habitable planet was hundreds of millions of anzi from the ship. Transits that far weren't possible from a fighter's emergency system.

All of that was going on in the back of my brain, a small part of it. Most of my brain was moving my body. I could stand without vomiting, though dizziness and tunnel vision were still issues. But along with hundreds of things I couldn't identify right away, I'd smelled something I keyed in on.

A woman.

Wherever I was, they'd accounted for my needs. After a transit, we futas always needed a fuck. It set off our breeding heat, without fail, each time. It didn't matter that all of us serving had the contraceptive implants; those only neutralized the sperm. The hormones, the blood, the instinct...all of that was untouched.

I smelled her. My sense of smell was keenly attuned to the unique chemical makeup of a woman. I could fuck another futa; we had the equipment for either task, but that usually involved a dominance contest. Those could be fun, and I'd enjoyed my times pushing another futa down and pounding her pussy with my rod just as much as ending up with my legs spread and a fleshy tool splitting my lower lips open. But in my current mood, it was far better to just have a nice girl with a willing pussy that would bend over and spread for me.

The few remaining rational portions of my brain kept signaling me that something was drastically wrong, but I wasn't thinking about that. I made my way down the hall toward the room with the scent, the clue to where my prize lay.

Something that got through to me when I arrived was a harsh chemical smell. Ethanol. I knew sometimes they gave it to newer attendants when they got nervous. Was I getting a green one? Suddenly my eagerness spiked. I nearly broke the door pushing it open (I also instinctively ducked; the ceilings here seemed low).

I paused.

This woman was no green attendant. She should be part of someone's personal harem or on retainer to a house at her age, not serving as an attendant to warriors. And she reeked of ethanol, as if she'd tried to wear it as perfume. Maybe she'd been assigned to prepare the room for the actual attendant and...I couldn't fathom what would have led to her state from there.

My rational brain was once again shoved down by the now urgent need to sate my cock. Regardless of her age or smell, she was a woman, she was naked, and I could see the slit of her vagina melded to the crease of her ass. The body had a few extra creases, and her cheeks were not smooth flawless globes, but I wasn't picky.

I reached forward and hauled her up. She was heavier than I expected; the swell of her ass was not a genetic gift; it was a testament to her overall bulk. She was still pleasingly shaped and not obese, and the extra bulk provided some padding to grip.

And to cushion the pounding soon to come.

She moaned as I handled her and shifted her into position. She seemed disoriented, but when my cock touched her she pushed back, as if seeking it. She knew what it was for, and she wasn't resisting. I lined up and pushed forward.

The pain almost stopped me cold. Her hole was not lubricated, naturally or otherwise, and she was not prepared for my girth. She howled out and might have tried to get away, but I held her fast; despite being bigger than many attendants, she was weaker than even some of the petite ones I'd experienced. I rocked back and forth shallowly, the head of my cock barely splitting her. She gave up her attempts to get away and flopped down, passively accepting it. Soon enough her body figured out what was needed, and I felt my head start slipping in the natural juices of her sex.

It took a while for the head to pass through, and when it did the woman let out another yelp of surprise, pain, or both. Eventually I worked my way in deeper and deeper, but I hit her limit with a good fifth of my member still outside of her. It was enough. I found a position and started thrusting in earnest.

I spent a while lost in the sensations of the sex. A warm, wet pussy wrapped around one's cock is an experience all to its own, and with my breeding heat in full swing and a little disorientation from the transit still present, I continued pounding her for several genkaths. I felt her pussy spasm and she cried out, this time in a sound of desperate pleasure that I recognized from the many women I'd speared on my cock over the years.

That was when even my sex-focused brain noticed something was very wrong.

She began speaking, and I had no idea what she was saying. It was definitely speech, because at some point she looked back as if hoping for a response. All the Empress's subjects spoke the same tongue, and this was nothing like it. Nor did it sound like the harsh, guttural tones of the Subjugators we fought.

The thought of the Subjugators broke through my sexual haze and I pulled back. The woman let out an anguished cry. I worried she was a trap. I was on a planet I couldn't be on, I'd been in battle last I remembered. We didn't know the extent of the Subjugators' empire or their holdings. She could be a Subjugator agent.

Even without language, I could tell she wanted me to continue. I realized some of my precum must have gotten into her. She was as locked into a breeding frenzy as I had been when I started. This was reinforced when she leapt off her bed and clung onto me. I grabbed her ample ass instinctively. Holding her up was no effort at all, and she scrambled with her hand until she gripped my cock again. Her fingers barely met around its girth, and the length of her hand only covered maybe a third of the organ. She shifted around faster than I thought possible and put the head at her entrance. Then she dropped herself down on me and wailed.

I couldn't tell if she was hurt or enraptured and it was probably both. She flexed her legs as much as she was able to and began bouncing. Her breasts were smaller than I expected given the size of her backside, but still had enough heft to bounce and shift as she desperately fucked herself on me.

My breeding heat was still an urgent need within my body. Futas had tried mental discipline and drugs before, but the urge was still too strong. Unless the futa was mutilated, the heat was undeniable. Resisting it even for tens of genkaths was difficult in isolation, with no women nearby. Doing it while one was in my face, actively bouncing on my cock? Not happening.

I helped her bounce on me until I felt her tunnel clench and spasm and she let out a yell to the ceiling. She almost went limp, but she wasn't unconscious; she'd simply lost whatever energy she'd had before. I did all the work then, effectively jerking my cock off with her body. She still kept her legs wrapped around my hips, her heels bouncing against my ass.

I felt the tingling start, then travel down my shaft and spread through my body. Then I cried out and slammed deep into her.

My cum surged out and mixed with her juices. My first blast filled her pussy. The second squirted out around my shaft and down my legs. I dropped her on the bed then and my remaining blasts coated her body, long thick ropes of white cum painting her stomach, her uneven, slightly saggy breasts, and her roundish face. Some also got in the frizzy brown hair splayed out around her head.

I leaned back against some piece of furniture. I got more and more worried as my breeding heat abated and rational thinking returned, calling my attention to all of the

wrongness

I'd noted and dismissed.

Then the woman started convulsing.

Her body shook and she let out keening moans. Her hands flopped around and then grabbed her own breasts in a death grip. Her legs curled up and I worried she was going to hit her own head with her knees. Her muscled tensed so hard my cum shot out of her pussy like a reverse of my own ejaculation.

My mind returned to my original thought; she was a Subjugator plant, and some sort of biological agent had just activated. It couldn't have been transmitted by touch or it would be affecting me now as well. Or perhaps it was delayed. She'd been dosed so many genkaths ago, transmitted it to me, and in the same amount of time I would be spasming on the ground.

But something was nagging me about the symptoms. I couldn't place it until she let out a long, keening moan and shuddered, her hand going between her clenched, curled legs.

I gaped. The woman was going through her coming-of-age rite. That made no sense at all. She was far too old. All women had their coming of age mating before entering the workforce.

I looked around, finally taking in the surroundings.

The furniture was all wrong. I'd never seen anything even approaching these styles. Gibberish symbols were everywhere. A large display screen sat on a table across from the bed, images showing creatures I'd never seen across landscapes I didn't recognize. I looked out a window and nearly fell over. The plants were all green. Nothing resembling the purple-red vistas I knew.

I heard a crack and a clattering noise and my hand hurt. I'd been gripping a small table next to the woman's bed and unconsciously snapped it as my tension rose. Devices I didn't recognize fell out as the build-in drawer upended (though, one device at least seemed familiar; I'd already established she was a normal woman. At least physically).

I walked over to the window slowly, suddenly afraid I'd accidentally put my foot through the floor. Behind me my ignorant partner had rolled over and gone quiet. If she was anything like the women I'd seen it happen to, that would continue for several tens of genkaths. Though, she was older, so possibly not that long. I would need to get her water or she would dehydrate. Then I realized I had no idea how or where to do that. I glanced out the window again. I had to face reality.

I was not on a planet in the Empire. I wasn't even close.

***

One

***

Robin

I closed my locker and began my wriggling dance, trying to pull my sweatshirt out so it wasn't plastered to my boobs. It happened every time I put my backpack on. I never liked using one strap or getting a messenger bag or something similar. The backpack was just more efficient for walking around when worn properly.

I just had to move my shirt around in a way that didn't look like I was feeling myself up.

I heard a slight squeak and looked over with a smile. Brad rolled to a stop almost perfectly parallel with the lockers.

"You never signed back on to Discord after that power hiccup last night," he said.

"We were done playing anyway," I said, "And I don't stay signed on all the time; I've got the one computer for everything remember."

"I know I just...you know I like talking to you."

"Brad-" I began but he held up a hand.

"Hey, seriously, it's not like that. We've had that talk a bunch of times. I'm not dumb. But I also don't have a roaring social life, you know? Ethan isn't much of a conversationalist."

I smiled. Brad and I gamed, Brad moreso than me, but for us it was an escape. Ethan sometimes seemed obsessed. He would game with us if we asked him, but he wasn't particularly bothered if he had to go it alone, even in games that were designed for teams. Most of his conversation topics were limited to those games as well.

I saw his face fall and sighed. "I'll talk to you online maybe," he said as he rolled way, executing a rather impressive reverse and 180 turn. I'd seen him do it hundreds of times, but he's also let me try to do it once and I knew it wasn't easy.

I then did my own 180 turn to face the reason for his grimace and hasty retreat.

Except for the lack of pink, the group of girls coming down the hall would remind people of Mean Girls. Any version.

Honorable mention went to Alexa Moore, tagalong and sycophant. She was a tiny thing and regularly bragged that her under-4'11" height would let her get a handicapped plate for technically being a little person if she really wanted to. In her school uniform she would look like a child except for her chest. Her actual bra measurement matched mine; we were both Cs. But because I had an extra six inches of height (and probably 30-40 pounds of weight) where my tits looked average, hers seemed huge.

The other follower in the crowd was my stepsister Jemma. She'd kept her birth father's "Baker" surname, as had her mother, even when she married my father five years ago. We'd had a rocky start when we moved in. We didn't share interests, her being more of a teen socialite while I was a studious gamer. We kept an uneasy truce at home, but at school I could barely hold it together.

The reason was the pair of girls between my stepsister and Alexa. The Hammersly twins, Amber and Ruby. Their mother's first name was Crystal, and if anyone commented on that whole situation the two made that person's life a living hell. They had as much social clout as you could get in high school: athletic bodies with enough curves to make guys look and strawberry blonde hair that gave them that extra flair; co-captains of the varsity football cheer squad that also did competitions well into the spring; rich but inattentive parents that provided them with cars, clothes, and a large house where they could get away with hosting exclusive but permissive parties that social climbers were desperate to get into; and enough natural intelligence that they could coast through mid-and some high-level classes without too much effort.

"So when he gives you rides in that thing, do you make him stay on the sidewalk so he hits all the cracks?" Ruby asked, then went into an exaggerated twerking pose with some porny moans in case her audience didn't get the joke. Alexa gave it a laugh that was obviously too much while Amber just smirked. Jemma's face had stayed neutral and I ignored them to look at her.

"Ready to go?" I asked.

"Look, can't you study in the library for a couple of hours?" Jemma asked.

"Yeah, you can put off webcamming with your boyfriend until tonight for your sis, can't you?" Ruby said. I glared at her and she looked like she was going to say something until she noticed her sister was also giving her a look. I turned back to Jemma.

"Your mom said I have to bring you home with me, and I'm not waiting around just so you can wait for their practice to finish," I said.

"You know she won't care," Jemma said.

"Except if she does, it's my ass," I replied. I looked over at her other friends. Ruby was giving me a death glare, but Amber looked more neutral as she considered me. Alexa seemed torn, not sure which sister she should side with.

Jemma started to look defeated and then Amber stepped up to me. "Robin," she said, and hooked her arm in mine, leading me away from the other girls, "Look, Jemma hasn't got much going on. You know she's stressed about her mother."

"I'm living there too," I said.

"Yeah but it's her

mom

," Amber insisted, "You know she needs every break she can get. I promise I'll make sure she's doing her homework and everything, not just flirting with the jocks that leer at us. You know her grades have gone up since we took her under our wings. And do you

really

need to be home this afternoon?"

I wanted to argue. Actually I wanted to snap at her about the "her mom" crack, but as usual Amber had the finesse her sister lacked. When she hung out with the sisters, her homework got done, but it got done because of a crowd of underclassmen dupes the sisters had working for them. They strung them along with the vague promise of social favors if they did assignments for the girls, all of them drooling and fantasizing about maybe getting to see one of their panties or a look down her blouse even though neither twin had gone more than a month without a boyfriend since they were sophomores, and those boyfriends had always been varsity starters.

But I couldn't call Amber out on that. It was a classic open secret with no proof. And the teachers the Hammersly twins didn't have wrapped around their finger were scared of them; neither twin had a problem weaponizing their sex to get what they wanted, and their mother worked as a physicist for a defense contractor when she wasn't guest lecturing as a PhD at the local college. She had a chip on her shoulder from fighting her way to the top as a woman in the sciences, and tended to go nuclear on the administration unless they had lawyer-level proof her girls had done something wrong.

"Fine," I said, frustrated with myself at caving so easily. Again. "But no after-practice events."

"What if it was my treat?" Amber offered, "You can come with us to Commander, I'll buy. It'll be fun."

I grimaced again. "Just have her text me when practice is over," I said as she walked away.

=-=-=-=-=

"Commander" was the local jock hangout. It was your basic burger & beef joint near the town square that served everything you could get at a fast food place but it cost a little more and wasn't corporate so people could feel safely comfortable that they were supporting a local business.