Worthy (futa/male, futa/female, male/female)

Worthy

a short story by jokermon

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content.

If that's not your thing, or if it is unlawful for you to read this type of material where you reside due to your age or whatever, don't read it.

Nothing in this story is intended to represent real people, events or actual medical conditions.

Do not alter or repost without permission.

This story is copyright©2016 the author.

I was a sophomore in high school when the women moved in next door. They were a beautiful couple in their late twenties with matching wedding bands. Same-sex marriages were still a novelty in Texas then, especially here in the panhandle.

Much to my surprise, my mom, a dyed-in-the-wool conservative who was never in good health, wound up befriending them. When I came home from school I’d often find Gretchen and Sonya chatting and sipping wine with my mom on the back patio. It made me happy to see her so cheerful. My father had walked out of our lives back when I was a baby. We never had any financial worries because Mom was one of the last original Texas oil heiresses, but I know she got lonely in our big old house with just me for company.

I had been particularly bad company since I hit my teenage years. I did not know how to deal with my mom’s illness and so retreated into my two obsessions: cars and online porn. We had several old junkers on our property and my head spent more time under their hoods than in my school books. Getting one of these beaters to run gave me a badly-needed sense of accomplishment and control in my life. The rest of the time I was locked in my room humping my greased-up fist to an endless waterfall of internet smut.

I was a snarky, defensive and solitary kid. I had no friends or girlfriends and told myself I didn’t want them. In my own way I was as lonely as Mom.

Sonya and Gretchen changed all of that. They made the last three years of my mother’s life wonderful. They drew me out, as well. They were gorgeous and gregarious and funny. I always liked being around them. Moreover, I liked me when I was around them. They brought out a funny, articulate, sociable side of myself I never knew I had. They included me whenever they came over, which I knew did my mother’s heart good, and mine too.

Sonya was a buxom blonde with topaz-blue eyes and great masses of hair like braided sunshine. When she let it hang loose, it fell to the small of her back. Gretchen was a gold-filtered brunette with green eyes. Her hair fell in waves to her shoulder blades. She was just as chesty as her wife but perhaps a little bit bigger in the ass department. They were both the exact same height—five feet, six inches.

One day when they were all in the kitchen chopping up some exotic salad or other, I noticed Sonya’s T-shirt. It said, Some Chicks have Dicks—Get used to it. The words revolved around a circle with multiple male-and-female gender symbols spiraling from the center. It was the emblem of the Ouroboros Society, a nonprofit safeguarding the rights of women with Sandoval’s Exoplasia. I knew from trawling around online that cases were spiking again. Not as much as in the early two-thousands, but almost. I wondered if Sonya or Gretchen were packing. Or maybe both.

As it turns out, I didn’t have to wonder long. Mom came hobbling into the garage one Tuesday evening as I tinkered away under a jacked-up old Cadillac Eldorado. She sat down painfully and thumped her cane on the floor. That was her signal for me to stop what I was doing and mind her. I did.

“Barnesworth,” she said. “I’m sure you know summer’s just around the corner.”

I glanced at the bikini calendar on the wall and saw to my surprise that she was right. In our part of Texas, the difference between winter and summer pretty much amounted to warm-and-dry versus hot-and-dry. The seasons have a way of sneaking past you.

“It’s supposed to be very hot this year and I have given our friends an open invitation to use our pool. I trust I can rely on you to behave in a mature and respectful manner should you come home to find them in their bathing suits?”

“Oh Jesus, Mom!” My pimply moon face burned to the way to the tips of my jug-handle ears. It felt like cartoon steam might blow out of them. “Of course you can. I’m not a kid.”

Underneath my embarrassment and resentment, my dick was doing somersaults. Seeing our voluptuous neighbors in bikinis would be marvelous. Not to mention masturbatory gold for banki

... more on the forums ...