A Gift from a God

I self-published this a few years ago along with Claimed by the Futanari. It is based on Anatolian mythology and the hermaphrodite deity Agdistis...

*

I graduated from Edinburgh University last year with first class honours in applied mathematics and had the amazing luck to walk straight into an accountancy job at one of the many prestigious insurance companies based in the Scottish capital. Despite my enthusiasm, however, I must say the job itself proved excessively dull. The work itself wasn't challenging enough to keep my interest, but worse than that I was in a cubicle without a view, surrounded by people I couldn't relate to.

They were mostly men, and although, fortunately, I didn't have to deal with any overtly sexual harassment, there was a blatant culture of male privilege that left me feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps if I had been taller, or more attractive, or even simply more outspoken, I would have fit in better, but as it was I was overlooked and ignored, inappropriate jokes flying over my head, gossip over weekend conquests, shared fantasies over what they'd like to do to the pretty secretaries. I never quite had the confidence to voice my own agreement on that point.

Indeed, my own fantasies varied according to my mood. Although it has always been convenient to present as female, my assigned sex at birth, in truth my own sense of what I am is fluid. Perhaps that is my fate - my name is Derya, which means the sea (though I was born far from the sea) and who I am, fundamentally, changes with the tides, subject to the whims of a capricious moon. Some days I feel so intensely male that I barely recognise the person in the mirror.

There were days, listening to my colleagues lusting over women, I would feel almost resentful that I was the only one whose cock hadn't been sucked by Tracy the boss's secretary. Not that I had a cock, but I wouldn't have objected to one.

Such was my general awkwardness around men, I hadn't even had a chance to blow someone else's cock, let alone get my own imaginary one blown. At the age of twenty two, my only sexual experience was the night my roommate came home late high and horny and climbed into my bed. I'd had something of a crush on her and hadn't objected in the slightest. I barely slept that night, thrilled to have her warm, naked body pressed against mine, imagining this to be the first of many equally thrilling encounters.

The following day she could barely look at me, and in the weeks that followed her coldness towards me left me with a hatred and distrust of all women that lingered for months. My heart healed eventually, and the following year I started dating a girl on my course - but she broke up with me after I revealed that I was bisexual. She wanted, she said, most emphatically, to be with a lesbian. (Even if I were only into girls, I'm not sure I could be both a lesbian and genderflux, but that didn't seem to bother her as much as the bisexuality.)

So it's certainly not that I spent my days wishing for a cock. Some days, maybe a little, but on other days I was more likely to wish I were taller, slimmer, more attractive generally, with bigger breasts perhaps. I also wished I had the courage to dress more revealingly, to use my natural assets to greater effect. (I had a tendency to buy clothes that I then never dared to wear.) But all this was just an undercurrent of thought, never an obsession. If a genii had appeared and offered me a wish, I would probably have asked for a job that didn't suck.

Stuck in that dull cubicle, I found myself thinking of Ballıhisar, the village where my grandparents live and that I had visited once or twice as a child. I don't speak Turkish, and my parents aren't religious. I think most people seeing my name before they see me expect me to be a jihadist in a niqab, but really I'm not so different from other twenty-two-year-old Scottish girls. Turkey is definitely a foreign country to me, and not one I'd ever care to live in, but the desire to return built steadily during my months at work.

I booked flights out at Christmas along with my parents, and spent a week there driving around visiting family and generally eating too much baklava and drinking too much tea in a very Turkish way that has nothing to do with Christmas. It was only near the end of my visit that I had the space and freedom to try and understand why I had felt the need to go to Turkey at all, and indeed why I still felt so unsatisfied after being there for a whole week.

On impulse, and despite the freezing weather, I headed out to visit the ruins of ancient Pessinus. I was reminded of a story I'd heard once, or read somewhere. One of the myths of ancient Greece, I think, that tells of a deity, Agdistis, who was a hermaphrodite. It's quite a disturbing myth, but the idea of a god who was both male and female is one that resonates with me.

As I stood in the amphitheatre trying to recall the details of the story, a sudden dizziness came over me and I collapsed to the ground. Several minutes passed before I trusted my feet again, and by then I felt flushed with a feverish heat, and beset by a weariness that made even the short journey home seem impossible. I phoned for my dad to come and get me, and was soon tucked up in bed, mostly worried about missing the flights back to Scotland the next day.

My illness passed as swiftly as it had struck, and the next day I was full of energy, devouring breakfast with a gusto, grinning cheerfully at everyone. My good spirits lasted all the way home, and even persisted for a few days until the drudgery of work finally killed them.

I wish now that something more definite had happened in Turkey, that I had some real sense of communion with Agdistis, but for all I really know it was just a twenty-four-hour flu that knocked me out. I believe, though, that something quite special happened then, though the changes occurred much later.

On the 23rd January, the fourth day of the new moon, I woke with a sense of anticipation, and a strange hunger for something - I wasn't sure what. It was a Friday, and I had work, so dressed hurriedly, as always, slightly delayed by the attempt to find a bra that didn't hurt, and the whimsical decision to swap my usual sensible shoes for heels with real height - it's no fun being the smallest person in the office. These were shoes that I only wore when I was in my most feminine state of mind. If you had asked me, I would have said that I was one hundred percent woman.

Which, in retrospect, was ironic. Maybe it was the shoes, maybe something in my attitude, but people were noticing me, and on the one hand that made me anxious - I was so used to being invisible - but on the other... a part of me really enjoyed the attention. Even Tracy the cock sucker smiled at me, before she seemed to remember that I was a woman and she blushed, and busied herself in her work.

I had a sudden vision of Tracy on her knees in front of me, her lips wrapped around my cock, a not unfamiliar daydream of an impossible pleasure, but this time I could even feel my imaginary cock pressing against my knickers in a struggle to be free.

Except that was real! I could feel it! Dizzy with shock, I pressed one hand to my crotch, a hard bulge small but unmistakable, and pressed the other hand against the wall for stability.

In a panic I headed for the bathroom and locked myself into a cubicle, and with some trepidation raised my dress and lowered my knickers. It's one thing to wish for a cock, quite something else to discover you've grown one in the space of an hour. It had definitely not been there when I dressed in the morning. I judged it now to be about the size of my thumb, nothing to brag about except that it was there at all.

I had a cock.

I was in shock. I sat on the toilet seat while I tried to process this strange, impossible fact. I stared down at my limp, wrinkly addition, trying to make it disappear by sheer willpower. It jutted out from my crotch just above my labia. I touched these briefly, and between them my clitoris, to check that I hadn't lost for what I had gained, but my womanhood, so to speak, was intact.

By this time the discomfort of my bra had become too much, distracting me from my panic. I took advantage of my privacy to remove it, to try to adjust it, but the relief at being braless was intense. My breasts were bigger, by at least a cup size. Perkier too. My nipples had grown, and thrust out - hard and sensitive to the touch.

The explorative tweaking of my nipples woke the sleeping beast, and my new cock erected with a swift urgency, demanding to be touched as well. And in this state it was a lot bigger than my thumb. I had the sense it was growing, that my breasts too would grow further.

I gave into temptation and wrapped a hand round my cock, shivering with the pleasure of it. I caressed it gently, luxuriating in the waves of sensation, loving the feel of its hard impatience.

Abruptly I knew what I wanted and dressed quickly, hiding the bulge as best I could and not bothering with the bra. As I walked, the material of my knickers slid against the sensitive skin of my hard cock, and my shirt teased my nipples deliciously. I could feel the familiar, tingling heat of my arousal, and a hunger for satisfaction that left no room for caution.

Tracy's cheeks turned bright red as she greeted me. 'Hi Derya.'

'I need your help with a little problem,' I said quietly. 'Please come with me to the bathroom.'

She nodded uncertainly, but followed after me. As soon as the door was closed, I pushed her against the wall, kissing her, enjoying the pressure of her breasts against mine, grinding my hardness against her crotch.

Her initial resistance faded rapidly. 'Oh my God,' she said. 'You have a...' Her hand explored the outline of it.

'Get on your knees, Tracy,' I said. 'Take a proper look at it.'

She looked into my eyes for a second, then nodded. I lifted my dress as she dropped, and watched delighted as she set my straining cock free from its bonds. Without question it had grown, and was now about average size for a male member. The feel of her cool fingers about the shaft was almost enough to make me come immediately. I curled my fingers through her blonde hair and tugged her face close, leaving no doubt about what I wanted from her.

Her lips closed around the head and she sucked gently, the tip of her tongue teasing around it. Amazing as it felt, it was seeing my cock in her mouth, it was seeing my cock, my impossible cock, in Tracy's sweet mouth, her eyes looking up into mine, the way I had seen her in my fantasies, that made the moment so intensely erotic. (That and the awareness that at any moment someone might walk into the bathroom and discover us, but Tracy and I were the only people who used this particular bathroom regularly.) In that moment I was in love with Tracy, and wished the moment would last forever, and yet I was too impatient for the next moment, wanted to thrust as deep as possible into her mouth, into the tightness of her throat, to be consumed entirely by her and find release.

My panic over my body's changes was over. Part of my mind stumbled over what I would say to colleagues and friends and family, but mostly I cared only for the way Tracy was embracing the new me. For once, even I was no longer at odds with my body. I was no longer man or woman, yet something of both. I had become like the ancient god of Pessinus, Agdistis incarnate, Tracy kneeling in worship before me.

She worked my cock with enthusiasm, taking me deep into her mouth, her warm, soft lips tight about my shaft, while with one hand she explored beneath, tracing my outer labia before dipping a finger between into the delicate folds with such painless ease that I knew I must be very wet. Her finger brushed across my clit like electricity and penetrated me. With her other hand she reached up under my shirt to find my breasts, and catching a nipple she pinched gently.

This triple assault was too much for me. 'I'm coming,' I warned, and she pushed a second finger into my vagina and started finger fucking me. 'F-f-fuck!' I cried, the tension painfully intense, culminating in an eruption of cum into her mouth, and nothing mattered beyond the need to empty myself into her, the muscles of my vagina clamping tightly about her fingers in time with the pulsing of my cock.

She swallowed what she could but there was too much cum, too fast, choking her, and it poured out around my shaft until at last the tremors ceased and I relaxed my grip on her head.

'Fuck that was a lot of cum,' she said, wiping her face clean, and wiping the spillage from the floor. She looked up at me with a sudden grin. 'Was that good for you?'

'Oh yes,' I said, smiling back. 'Thank you.' My cock was shrinking again, and after cleaning it I was able to tuck it away into my knickers again. I watched Tracy reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. 'I always thought you were straight,' I said.

She shrugged. 'I usually prefer men. The relationships are easier, and I like cock.' Finished with her lips, she turned to study me. 'There's something different about you today. It's like I'm seeing you for the first time. I don't understand why I never noticed these before.' She grabbed hold of my breasts through my shirt. 'They are gorgeous. What are you doing after work?'

My cock stirred again in response to this fresh attention, and I realised then that I wasn't going to get any work done that day. I was too hungry for sex. I couldn't just keep Tracy in the bathroom all day, and it would be weird if we both left at the beginning of the work day. 'Listen,' I said. 'I can't stay here today, but tonight, after work,' - I paused to kiss her - 'I'm all yours.'

We kissed again, and then I left, making my way out of the office as quickly as possible, trying to be as unseen as I usually was. I had hoped that once outside the cool fresh air and relative solitude would help me to get control of myself, but I was uncomfortably aware of my enlarged, heavy breasts straining against my shirt, and of my restless cock struggling against knickers that weren't designed to contain it. Within the space of five minutes I had to adjust its position three times, as surreptitiously as possible.

*

Half an hour later I left Bravissimo - a shop specialising in bras for large-breasted women, close to the office where I worked - wearing dark leggings and a blue jersey top, and underneath that a blue bra with pansy decorations, with matching shorts that were much more comfortable than my previous knickers. Plus a bag full of other stuff all charged to my credit card.

I felt both demure and sexy, though still something of a fraud, and ready to face the world - but it was ten o'clock in the morning and I had six hours to kill before seeing Tracy again. I did the only sensible thing, and headed for home. There was a twenty minute wait for the bus, most of which I spent lost in thought, imagining how people would react to my new voluptuous figure. I would have to say I had breast implants, and then keep on lying when people asked why. Or could I just tell them the maybe-truth? That an ancient hermaphroditic deity had remade me in his/her image?

Then other thoughts started to intrude on my angst. Vivid images of my breasts being mauled, my nipples sucked on, of me on my knees with a cock in my mouth... The visions were strange and alien, and so unlike anything I was used to, they felt like someone else's fantasies. Confused, I peered around me slowly. A man, in his thirties, I would guess, stood just behind and to the side of me. So focussed was he on my breasts that he didn't see me studying him. His head was full of me lying naked on the bed with a cock thrusting between my breasts...

I was, of course, horrified. A strange man was doing perverted sex things to my body without my permission. Was he about to drag me into an alley and rape me? He was certainly strong enough, well muscled. Of course, we're all free in our imaginations, but it's a shock to be caught up in someone else's dirty thoughts. My face covered in cum...

Just an hour ago, it had been Tracy living out my fantasy. The sight of her wiping my cum from her face was a memory I'd cherish forever. One part of my anatomy was immune to my fear of this man's desire for me. It swelled within the lacy confines of my new knickers, and it occurred to me that not once had I seen my cock in this man's fantasies of me. To him I was just a woman with huge breasts.

My bus arrived, a double decker, and I made my way upstairs, aware of the man following me, his eyes on my bum, his thoughts full of me bent over with his cock in my ass. He resumed his earlier observation point, taking a seat just behind me but across the aisle, but I wanted more than to be a furtive spectator on his secret thoughts.

I picked up my bags and moved back and across the aisle to sit behind him. His disappointment and confusion could be sensed easily, even without the strange telepathic link we had. He pretended he wasn't aware of me, until I said quietly in his ear, 'If you had one wish, what would it be?' He turned round to stare at me, hope and terror warring in his eyes. 'Any wish at all. What would it be?'

He still hesitated, but I could sense the fire of his lust reignite. Swivelling in his seat to see me better, his eyes dropping to my prominent breasts, his thoughts penetrating the fabric like X-ray vision, he said finally, 'To fuck those gorgeous tits and come all over them.'

I smiled encouragingly. 'Maybe you'll get your wish,' I said. 'But what would I get in return?' At the back of my mind, a little voice was screaming at me to stop being such an amoral idiot, but this man's hunger for me had woken an overriding hunger in me too. Just a day ago I doubt this man would even have noticed me, and I would have been glad of it. Now I was behaving like a slut, offering my breasts to a man whose name I didn't even know - nor did I particularly want to know.

I was out of control. It was like discovering chocolate after a lifetime of eating cabbage. I knew what I was doing was bad, but I couldn't stop myself. It didn't help that my head was full of his thoughts, my nipples between his imaginary teeth, his cock pounding my pussy. His word for it. Pussy. Tits. Ass. Cum. Words that used to be alien to my thoughts, making me into a sex object, not a woman, or whatever, and my own cock responded, trying to rip through the constraining fabric like the Incredible Hulk.

Frustrated with this one-way flow of lurid imagery, I tried to project my own desires back at him. I pictured him on his knees in front of me, like Tracy had been, my hard cock pulsing in front of his face. I tried to feel his lips tight about the shaft, his tongue circling the head within his mouth. I wondered what cum tasted like, imagined him drinking it in deep gulps as it flooded his mouth and poured into his throat. I took all of this and pushed it back at him -

He recoiled with shock, much as I guess he would have if I had suddenly exposed my erection and thrust it towards him - but of course I hadn't moved a muscle. He stared at me, bewildered, his mouth working as if something tasted bad.

It was my stop coming up. He didn't follow when I stood to go, but I didn't care. I had rather lost my taste for him as well.

*

Alone in my flat, free at last to study the changes, I stripped and stood naked in front of the long mirror. My breasts, thankfully, had grown no further. Already they attracted more attention than I was comfortable with, but I can't deny the thrill of them. I used to envy women with large breasts, used to wish for them, and now that wish had been granted. There are women with still larger breasts, and indeed my size was one of the smaller ones in the shop, but I am more than satisfied. Plus they're perkier than they have any right to be.