A Futa Futcha

This story depicts a fetish know as Futanari

Fuatnari: A type of Hentai, most often depicting hermaphrodites or females with male sex organs. Also known as Dickgirls.

Transformation Futa is a long standing kink of mine, though it has been a while since I indulged. The major difference is that the females are 100% genuine female until a chemical injection bestows them with a rampant 'schlong' and a burning desire to use it on any and all available orifices

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Many years had slipped by since humanity first entered the cold, dark, vast emptiness of space. The moon landing was the first tentative baby step into the unknown and who could have foretold then that the true destiny of Earth's children sat waiting for them at some distant point between the stars, for it was during this initial stage that mankind looked back on the small green blue planet they called home and realized just how small they were compared to the near infinite reach of space. So, as time progressed and technology advanced, the decision was made to reach out to new planets in order to terraform and populate. It was an ambitious goal to be sure, and it was in this attempt to extend humankind's grasp that something was discovered ...something that was to change the face of mankind forever.

Those first faltering steps in the vast unknown bought with it a price ...at first it wasn't thought to be anything other than the discovery of an ancient society, a civilisation long since passed into antiquity, and amidst the ruination of this antediluvian world lay certain relics. These relics dated back to long before humanity had gathered the wherewithal to drag itself from the bondage of primordial instinct. Yet, the term relic itself is a bit of a misrepresentation, though these objects were indeed ancient, the level of technology that they possessed was like nothing that even the most inspired mind would dream of creating. Though for many years they remained nothing more than a curiosity, that is until a brilliant scientist unlocked their power, and in doing so bought about his own destruction. Though it wasn't just his end that was met that day ...nor just the end of every man in that complex, but something was unleashed from within the relic that spread throughout the globe in one unstoppable plague that wiped every person from the face of the earth that bore a 'Y' chromosome ...not one human 'male' was spared.

With an entire gender now purged from the face of the earth things looked bleak for the continuation of the species. Oh sure, there were a few men stationed in deep space or who were off planet that were spared the wrath of the relics, but they numbered in tens, the 'gentler' sex was counted in billions. For a while the answer lay in sciences ability new life in test tubes. It was something that humans had dabbled with for many generations now and over that time the techniques had been refined and perfected, though of course, only female embryo's ever became viable as it seemed that whatever it was that had been unleashed into the planets atmosphere was now so intimately bound to every molecule that no male could ever set foot or even be sired on the Earth again.

Of course, the whole procedure became ludicrously expensive to the point where children became very much the luxury item, affordable by only the ultra rich and in efforts to safeguard the future prosperity of the human race all sperm bank reserves were seized by the World's Central Federal Government. It wasn't long before those little frozen pockets of genetic 'cockspit' were worth more than the planets reserves of gold bullion and precious stones combined.

Those who were spared this biochemical wrath, other than the women of course, where those individuals who by birth had been born transgendered, shemale ...dickgirl, call them what you will and it was from this small fraction of humanity that the hope for our species continuation was discovered. It was in a nondescript Japanese laboratory where some junior tech found a way to splice the transgender gene and wrap it into a set cycle genetic transcription strand and bind it all within a solution that held the compound in a static state ...static that is until is was injected into the human bloodstream. The resulting effect was a short term testosterone transformation that endowed the female with a rampant engorged fleshy phallic shaft that oozed pearls of life giving goo from its bulbous head and a equally rampant will to use it.

It goes without saying that the black market in gender-gene splicing began to shadow its legitimate, but regulated cousin, and to this end, trading in the aptly coined 'Futanarium' bought great rewards for those willing to trade in it and risk running the gamete of the law.

So ...you are probably wondering where all this is leading, well its leading here ...to docking arm Capsicon-G of the Ganymede orbital space station, on which is tethered a behemoth of a transporter ship called the 'Vancouver', its deep space mission is ...well, of no consequence really, but in the shadow of the airlock stands one of the ships crew, partly concealed in darkness and glancing furtively along the length of the gantry while a second equally shadowy figure rummaged around in a hidden pocket deep within the depths of their jacket ...a few moments later she produces a small syringe filled with a vivid green chemical, the soft emerald glow reflects on the pretty ...almost elfin face framed with a shock of crimson locks and she quickly passes over the wad of cash, the price is steep, but well worth it in her mind.

There was a sudden burst of life from the communicator she carried "Do you want to get your sweet ass in here Marti? ...times a burning gorgeous." came the voice of the Vancouver's pilot with a barely concealed giggle.

With a grin, Martinique raced through the airlock and slammed the 'door close' to a symphony of sirens as the great ship began to make way. There was a heavy clunk as the arm detached from the mounting plate at the side of the vessel, allowing it a moment of drift as the ship slowly started to succumb to the profound gravitational pull of the dying star below around which the station orbited. It was a beautiful sight ...the star was close to death but the stations technology held the gas giant in a form of stasis that never quite allowed it to die.

The pilot allowed the vessel to fall further, the nose pitched forward before she suddenly gunned the engines. There was a resounding roar and a shudder that ran the length of the gargantuan vessel as the pulsar drives twisted and turned the space in the wake in their wake ...the Vancouver swung about the dying star and used the increased momentum to catapult into the reaches of space.

As big as the ship was, it only had a total of five crew ...there was Justine, an experienced Captain with hair like liquid gold, Simone, the raven haired navigator ...Katalina, the comms officer with a fetish for piercings and who marked each time the ship made landfall by getting some or other part of her perfectly proportioned personage pierced. There was also Martinique who was ships security ...though it was often said that she only ever took on that position so she could abuse it and smuggle stuff on board that would otherwise have been confiscated by any security officer worth her salt. Finally there was Tasha, the helmswoman and one of note, a decorated flyer but one who flew with instinct rather than regulation.

Tasha's face wore a delicate brooding beauty, but it was her sense of dress had often been remarked upon, if only for it being wholly inappropriate. She wore a small leather effect top that covered her breasts but left her shoulders and midriff exposed and in doing so showed off the light tan of her skin, the black sheen of the hide was peppered with small squares of shiny metal plate... it gave the effect of being armoured, but was barely up to the task... in fact it hardly seemed up the task of containing her full orbs and they seemed forever threatening to break free of their leather bound incarceration. Her right hand was covered with a black fingerless glove, whilst her left remained unencumbered by any such adornment.

Black leather pants with strapping and buckles adorning the front also covered her pert rump and her right leg... the other leg of her garment she had opted to remove at some point so that now her shapely leg lay fully exposed from just a little under her crotch to the point where it vanished into one of her combat boots... boots that had likely seen better days but they were warm, comforting and shod with a steel instep.

With the transport ship now clear of the station and pointed towards the inky depths of space, she engaged the auto pilot and rose from her seat. Her time aboard the space station had left her feeling sweaty, clammy and uncomfortable, and there was only one thing that could put that to rights and that was standing under the pummeling head of the shower as the drumbeat of water washed away all the grunge of the day and gave her skin that refreshing glow that she so adored.

"Just gonna get myself showered Captain." she grinned ...well aware that Justine's eyes would be following her movement towards the lift and so she made sure to give that pert ass of hers a wiggle as she reached the lift to the bowels of the vessel and tapped the 'call' button. For a few moments she stood there gently staring at the ceiling and absent mindedly tapping the back of her head against the bulkhead in time to some tune that warbled around her mind as she waited.

With a sudden gentle hiss the lift opened and Tash swung inside and jabbed at the floor number ...the doors slid shut and she left the rest of the bridge crew staring at the closed brushed metal door and Justine muttering under her breath about 'having that sweet pert ass' one of these days.

A few moments later the lift doors swooshed open and Tasha found herself staring straight into the mischievous eyes of Martinique as she rested against a bulkhead, something about her gave her the air that she was up to something, not that this was in and of itself unusual, as Marti usually was up to something, it was that delicious deviousness that so endeared her to Tasha.

"Hey Marti." Tash grinned as she rounded the corner and made her way through into the shower block.

Martinique returned the greeting and watched as the lithe alluring form of her occasional carnal companion as she slipped into the shower block. She knew well the routine of her friend and it wouldn't have been the first time that she had followed her into the shower cubicle in order to indulge in some lurid lady loving that would leave then hotter, grimier and stickier than when they had first entered the cascade of water ...but not tonight ...no tonight was different. Tonight she had plans!

She dipped her hand into her pocket and fished out the small syringe that she had procured just before the ship had taken off, her eyes gleamed at the emerald promise that swished gently within the glass chamber. It was one thing to stretch Tasha velvet depths with several inches of strap on ...but the idea of sporting a rampant rutting rod and feeling every inch of grip against her as she plunged deep into Tasha's 'snatch' was toe curlingly delicious.

Hell ..the girl was dampening at the very thought of it and already a patch of wetness had begun to grow against the crotch of her pants. The thoughts of this young minx turned over and over in her deliciously depraved head as she thought about all the things she could do with such monstrous medically modified meat swinging between her thighs.

Leaning against the bulkhead, she tipped her head and listened to the soft sound of the waters rhythm against her friend and watched as the warming steam slipped from beneath the door. With a idle pleasure she tossed the syringe from one hand to the other, a barely concealed anticipation as she bopped to tune that had been running through her head. Oh the things she would do ...she would tease her with it ...she would tantalise her with it ...she would...

"...Fuck!"

She hissed as she mistimed her juggling and the syringe danced from her grip and met the floor with the sound of shattering glass. Marti looked on open mouthed as the precious gender disorientating chemical leaked over the floor and gave rise to a gentle sea green mist. All her hopes and dreams of a carnival of carnal conflagration lay shattered, it would seem that she would have to dust off the foot long black plastic strap on after all. She gave a soft sigh and reached across to flick a switch to activate the extraction fan and remove the delicate green mist that stood as testament to her intentions.

As the vapors swirled in the air she caught a taste of it on her breath ...it smelt of lime and made her nose itch. It took a further three minutes for the corridor to completely clear of it, but by that time she felt something ...something strange ..something not quite right. At first she thought that the gas was just giving her a light head and making her nauseas, but all notion of this was pushed aside by the sensation of pressure that was building up behind her clit, the raging fire between her legs went wild, from a conflagration to a fire storm. Eyes went wide, as her back arched as she staggered back and came to rest against the wall, her hands splayed outwards for support as she breathed heavily from the sudden unwieldiness of her body.

"F...fuck..." She moaned. It felt to Martinique as if her pants were growing tighter, her lithe legs shaking from the pressure as she felt something hot and warm snaking down her leg, and an increasing extra pressure in the crotch of her leather pants.

"Wha... what the hell..."

This felt strange, and horribly uncomfortable, she felt warm thickness pressing against her skin, and when she looked downward, she could see the rather odd sight of a rather massive erection straining against the leather. She stared at it for a moment ...scarcely able to believe the emergent monster that grew from her crotch.

Her hands immediately dropped to her crotch, her slender fingers starting to massage the inflamed fleshy tool beneath the thin leather covering. As she touched her new self her eyes flickered ...a gentle trickle of spittle drooled from the corner of her mouth, this was a wild sensation ...it seemed as though her body was hypersensitive to the touch and that even the slightest convergence of her fingers against the massive tool sent pulsations of pleasure through her. She could hear the stitching of her leather pants as they strained to house this monster and in an effort to save her favourite pair, she quickly loosened the fastenings and shrugged them off, standing in the corridor naked from the waist down and staring down at her newly grown herm-cock.

"What the fuck...." She whispered incredulously, looking on the massive thing. A small hand, experimentally wrapped itself around the huge cock, and slowly she started to stroke it up and down. Each pump brought a little bit more of the pearly fluid to the tip, causing it to drip down over her hand and start to pool on the floor as she watched goggle eyed at it.

Her lusty reverie was suddenly dislodged by the pinging of the lift.

"Shit!" she hissed, thinking that it must be another member of the crew and if they were to walk out of the lift and see her with a erect dribbling member the length of half her leg, then she would surely be on report ....again. Her mind stuttered as she tried to think of which way to run, not that running would be easy with several inches of throbbing meat bobbing about in front of her, this was a sensation that she wasn't used to.

Too late. The lift door opened, perhaps she could talk her way out of this situation ..perhaps. It was then she caught sight of the Captain as the door opened, so much for being able to talk her way out of it, but she wasn't alone, flanking her was Simone and Katalina.

Martinique's heart dropped ...as it did so, so did her gaze and that was when she noticed that each one of them was sporting massive members beneath their mode and manner of dress. The elfinesque security minx couldn't resist a smile as she watched them.

Justine's eyes narrowed against her young charge as she watched the twitching drooling meat swing between her legs. "I guess your responsible for ...these?" she hissed, though embedded in her voice was a deeper yearning to release the building seed that each rod promised to deliver.

"I ....er ..." Marti struggled, glancing back she looked at the extractor control panel. It seemed that rather than remove the gender bending essence, she had in fact pumped it into the upper decks ...namely the bridge which would account for why four of the crew of five now were in possession of manly members the size of which were rarely seen outside of the equine fraternity.

Suddenly Katalina piped up and gave voice to everyone's thoughts, "So ...Tasha missed out on this then did she?"

As one their gaze drifted towards the door of the shower block. The vapors would have missed the shower block entirely which meant ...one thing ...the buxom helmswoman still owned a blissfully unaware pussy, a fact which wasn't lost to the herd of herm-chicks in the corridor. From within the shower room came sounds of movement, for it seemed that Tash had completed her wash down and was making a move for the door.

Marti quickly scooped up her leather slacks from the floor and stood by the side of the door, the very second it hissed open she made a lunge for Tasha, who for modesty's sake was dressed in little more than a towel that only just dipped below her waist and barely covered her nipples ...a playful grin on her face as she suddenly covered her face with the seat of her pants whilst one of the other crew pulled on the legs of the leather pants and tied them so that the whole thing formed some makeshift hood.

Tasha tried to pull away, disorientated by the events that had taken her by surprise. "What the fuck are you guys up to? C'mon ...this isn't ...funny..." something had caught her attention, or rather had caught her keen sense of smell. The use of Marti's trousers as an impromptu hood also had the effect of grinding Tasha's nose against the recently strained and now sodden crotch of her lovers lusty lengthened libido, but this didn't taste ...or scent quite as she expected. On more than one occasion Tash had had her face buried between Marti's slender thighs with her tongue sliding deep between those velvet smooth walls, so it is fair to say that she had become quite a coinsure of cunt! This smell though was considerably more ...musky ...stronger ...and it seemed that something was sticky against her skin.

Tash had little time to ponder these new tastes and smells as she was suddenly whisked off her feet and felt her being bodily carried down the corridor. There was little indication of what was happening to her but for the occasional snatch of a chuckle and the hiss of a bulkhead door or two, after a while the air became noticeably cooler ...that could mean only one thing, that for some reason she now found herself carried on the shoulders of her colleagues into the cargo hold. Why though ...what had possessed them?

"There ...that will do perfectly." giggled Martinique.

...what? ...what will do perfectly?... the thoughts rushed through Tasha's mind.

She felt herself being lowered and shivered a little at the sudden coolness of metal against her back, then came the sensation of ropes around her ankles and wrists.

"Hey guys ....what is this? If you wanted an orgy you only had to ask."

The gaggle of gonad groupies giggled as they ensured Tash was secure before they released her from the comforting, if slightly curious sensation she was getting from Marti's trouser crotch. She blinked at the sight of the overhead lights ...it seemed she was face up on a steel disc, a turntable to be exact and a casual tug with her limbs convinced her that she was not likely to extract herself for sometime yet. This was unusual ...but it paled in comparison to the bizarre sight of her companions, each one of them now as naked as herself ...their soft bountiful breasts, their bodies tapering down to slender waists and lissome legs. However, each of them appeared to be supporting an extra limb, well ...each was the length and thickness of a forearm, each tipped with a crown that teased pearl's of expectant seminal spit.