Tag Archives: lesbian

Sticky Gift- Futanari on Male and Female

Sticky Gift: A Futanari on Male & Female Story

Stephen’s building was shit. Mine was worse, but his was shit too. It hadn’t been a hard decision when we were trying to figure out which place we were going to keep, and which place we were going to get rid of. But Stephen’s place was closer to the city and it had a doorman, well, sort of. He was the building super when there was something broken, otherwise, he kept a little office at the desk by the front door during the day and into the evening.

“Come on, look at this place. I’m working on Janet’s team now. This project is going to be the one. Come on, don’t you want to live closer to the city?” He had been so excited, so persuasive when he had suggested it.

Really, I was really just playing with the idea. The moment he had suggested it, I had secretly agreed, but you know, you don’t want to seem too eager, right?

And I didn’t disagree with him. The Barrett Firm had already given him one raise when they had moved him onto Janet’s team, with the promise of more and I loved him and loved being close to him and his things.

How could I have said no?

Besides, I did love the old place. It was shit, an absolute rubbish bin, but it had character, all brick with windows that barely worked but they each had a million panes, and they were all the way around. And who cared that in the winter the floors were absolute ice?

And it had Henry, the super. Born somewhere near Darby in the sixties, he was an unhealthy, Englishman who always had an unlit cigar in his mouth. But he was friendly and personable and if you needed a hand, well, if a woman needed a hand, he was quick to volunteer. And I won’t even begin to go into the gossip Henry was privy too.

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Late Shift

She hadn’t been on the floor for an hour before the talk started. Every nurse found a reason to swing by her room, you know, peek for themselves and see what all the fuss was about.

“Did you see her?” Rhonda sat behind the main desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose, so happy to be the one to tell me about the latest strange case. It was Rhonda’s thing, she loved the strange, the odd patients. She liked to keep a list that she would read off at the Christmas party every year.
Rhonda’s Favorites never failed to fill the room with laughter.

We usually got one every week or so, a patient that had done something strange or had something strange done to them or had been bitten by something strange. The hospital just happened to be in a pretty big city, which means a lot of people. And a lot of people, means a lot of possibility.

I had already been on shift for six hours and had heard no less than ten nurses, 3 nurse practitioners, and three doctors, talk about the woman in 305C. Everyone had something to say about her and it.

She was on my list of things to run and check on, but Cathedral was busy as fuck because of the holiday and I was already working on five hours overtime for the week. But I had not made it to the far end of wing yet. “No,” I made a note on one chart and picked up another, “but the way everyone’s talking, you would think no one had ever seen a decent prick before.

Also, I guess Dr. Clemons said she was, and I quote, ‘hot as fuck’, end quote.” I laughed. (Dr. Clemons had been known to report doctors who used such language to HR.)

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Mother Daughter Futanari Incest

So, I have gotten a number of requests and complaints about Futanari Family series. Some of you don’t think the series has enough sex. More of you would like to explore the family dynamic of the story – namely the stuff that Amazon and the rest don’t want people to publish, the incest between Casey, Linda, and Stephanie. And others just want me to continue the series.

So, you know what they say. Give ’em what they want.

[Here’s the beginning. Catch the rest on my Patreon – where I get all kinds of crazy.]

The package was marked Linda Thiel. A yellow envelope, 9 x 12 and lined with bubble wrap. When I tore it open, I found two white bottles. I shook each one. They didn’t sound full, maybe half full. I turned them over to read the label. One had my mother’s name, Linda. The other had mine, Casey.

was just the label with our names. The rest of the bottle was blank.

I remembered the doctor that had actually signed the final paperwork and assigned us to this test. It had been after the third medical screening and examination. I was lying on an examination table, my legs spread, I had just finished masturbating and the doctor was examining my vulva and clit with gloved hands. “You do understand what the drug will do?” She had asked, picking up a long swab and inserting it into my vagina. “The side effects are still being determined,” she had said. “We can’t tell you what the drug will do to you.”

Mom almost hadn’t signed. Examinations done, we had sat in front of a lawyer with a briefcase full of paperwork for almost an hour. There were more waivers than there were warnings. The pill could kill us and they wouldn’t be liable.

We had talked about it for days. The idea of working for a pharmaceutical company was one thing, but genetic modification? The idea had stopped both us in our tracks. I had been the first one to call the idea crazy. But we had needed the money more.

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