A Sexual's Reproduction (Futa/Female, Impregnation, Excessive Cum, Inflation)

Story by Tosaku No Kishi

Hi all, I've a new ongoing story to share. I'm planning for this to go on for about 8 chapters, probably with an epilogue to round things off. No sex yet, but it'll be plentiful in the coming chapters.

Mirin is a gorgeous, curvy Irish woman living a decent life. However, her looks don't fit in with the Asexual Reproductive world she was born in. The norm is sleek and slender. Only recent mothers have any curves to speak of. To make it worse, Mirin is a hermaphrodite, the exact opposite to the rest of the world. What happens when prejudice pushes her over the edge?

Mirin peeled her leg from the leather sofa. Sweat clung to her skin in a fine layer, just enough to adhere to the furniture, but not to warrant any special attention. The office didn’t offer air conditioning. For her at least. Out in the waiting room where others had waited with her, she was cool and hydrated. She wiped at her brow and waited for her therapist to continue.

“It sounds to me like you’re restraining yourself,” the dismayed woman said, paying only minimal attention to her patient. This wasn’t their first session, or even their second or third, and still she made every effort to keep Mirin uncomfortable. Even the more unpleasant patients got better treatment.

“How so?” Mirin asked.

“It’s rather obvious,” she said, condescending as a fresh college graduate, “All you’re doing is going with what people want of you. Not that I can blame you. From what you’ve said before, everyone at work is out to get you. Hardly surprising.”

“So, what? I need to make decisions for myself?”

“Yes, within reason of course. Flaunting that body like you do might be too far. Perhaps some medical tape for the breasts? Or maybe adopt a child so it’s not as… unbecoming.”

Mirin swallowed her response, “I don’t make enough to support a child.”

“No, I didn’t think so. Getting hired as a novelty worker mustn’t pay well.”

“Just get to the point, please,” Mirin rubbed at her temples. She wished people would just ignore her body for once. Day in and day out, someone would comment on her figure, demeaning her for it. For the longest time, she thought such teasing would end once she left school, but it just followed her like a cowl. At this point, most words dripped off her back.

“My point, miss Lester, is you should consider trying to blend in with society.”

“I tried. It ended up with my lungs almost being crushed,” Mirin sighed. She’d explained it before.

“I see,” the therapist said. Mirin didn’t use her name where possible, preferring to disassociate the woman with reality. Without a name, she was just another venomous mouth, “Perhaps it’d be best to work from home.”

“Tried to. My mother wouldn’t let me.”

“Ah, yes. You still live with your parents.”

“Just my mum.”

“No wife? That might explain a lot.”

Mirin wished her glare could pierce skulls. No matter who they were, people ignored the things they were responsible for. Her mum couldn’t get a wife, because everyone knew what had led to Mirin’s birth, and everyone knew because they couldn’t keep their fucking lives to themselves.

She didn’t take the bait. Even a fish would recognise the dangers after enough time. Mirin turned her attention to the future, formulating her day off and strategy for handling work. Therapy should help her handle it, provide a release, but thus far it hadn’t made anything easier. Just another drain on her funds and time. One more session and that’s it.

“And our time is up,” they still had ten minutes, “I look forward to seeing you next time, Mirin. Same time?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Mirin said and left for the restroom. In a stall, her worst kept secret flopped out into the toilet bowl, slapping the icy porcelain. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Any other woman might be grateful that their armpits never reeked no matter how hot a day became, and she was, but the assault on her sinuses whenever she stripped made her question that gratitude. A sigh slipped out at the release of pressure.

Once emptied, she pulled her pantyhose over the meaty log. Heat wave or not, she couldn’t let it swing freely, or hang in a pair of jeans. Without leggings, skirts were impossible in public, knee-length or not. Mirin hissed as she pulled too far and pinched her sack.

“Fuck’s sake.” Some adjustments and she felt she was presentable, but still glared at her reflection. No matter what she wore, her body seemed to pop out like an absurd children’s book. Her blouse, something she thought looked cute from a magazine, strained to cover her chest appropriately. Her skin glistened under the lights, drawing her eyes at any moment.

“Why aren’t these longer?” Mirin tugged at her skirt. This was her summer attire, the only chance she had at aerating her crotch outside, but the g

... more on the forums ...