Casey at the Bat (F/M Incest)

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Casey at the Bat

A Short Story by jokermon

(This is a piece of erotic fantasy fiction. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, don't read it. If it is unlawful for you to read this type of material where you reside, don't read it. None of the characters or events in this story are real and are not meant to reflect real life people, events or medical conditions. This short story is copyright©2011 the author, please do not repost without permission.)

I honestly didn’t know if my chubby friend Casey was a boy or a girl until that day he nonchalantly shoved down his pants and a big erect penis swung out.

I should back up a little. I met Casey on one of my long rambles in the hills during the summer break. A truly nightmarish year of high school had just ended. For reasons known only to themselves and God, my family moved from Birmingham (that’s Alabama, not England) up to the Appalachian foothills just in time for my sophomore year. Man, did it suck. Not only was I a city boy forcibly transplanted to the deepest backwoods imaginable, I was also the new kid in school, and a skinny, nerdy and socially inept new kid to boot. As you can imagine, I went over like a lead balloon out there in the land of deer hunts and homemade liquor. This was in 1997 – for me, a year chock-full of pantsings and locker-stuffings.

Anyway, one day I was out brooding about how I never wanted to go back to school again and I almost walked into this tubby redheaded kid in scruffy oversized sweats and a Mercury motors cap.

After our initial surprise, we started talking. I vented about school for about fifteen minutes straight. Casey listened patiently, and then amazed me by saying he didn’t go to school at all. When I asked him how he managed that, he made a vague reference to a medical exemption. He said he did all his schooling by mail.

Casey was an enigma, but a welcome one. Like me, he didn’t have anyone to hang out with, and was grateful for the companionship. We were both in the same boat–the only people we had any real contact with were our immediate families. I was an only child, while Casey was the youngest of three,with an older brother and sister. We were both sixteen, and in our own ways, lonely as hell. We bonded quickly, and I had a new friend.

Casey was very private about his home life. Over the course of the next few weeks, he’d occasionally let something slip by accident, like that his mother died a while ago and his dad never remarried. I once walked partway home with him, and they lived up the county road from us in a shack-filled, run-down area.  I didn’t get as far as their house–Casey told me it was