A Sexual's Reproduction Ch. 04

"Finally done. Make sure you clean up. If you don't, I'm fucking your ass next time," Mirin said.

"You can do that?" Brianne asked, horrified.

"It's a hole, isn't it?" Mirin snickered and left.

The week leading to her therapy session was torture. All she could do was think about how it'd go. It was a test of sorts, to see what effect her presence had on people if she tried arousing them. She hadn't paid any attention to the therapist last time, a mistake she realised too late. The fact she'd agreed to another session so soon was a good sign, or an excuse to mess with Mirin.

Erin and Brianne kept her distracted. It was difficult not to be enamoured by the prospect of a second vagina growing alongside the first, or what else might happen. Certain now that her cum was responsible, Mirin dumped every load possible into her cum-dumpsters. People questioned Erin about it, since she came in bloated, then seemed to get bigger over the day and shrink again. She dodged it all, but people were getting pushy.

They just said it was a rare genetic disease in the end. That shut people up. Now they only showed concern for her, and asked if it had any mental side effects, given how much time she spent with Mirin. Only a sick person would do such a thing, of course. No one concerned themselves with Brianne. A few asked about it at first, then left it alone.

The truth would come out eventually. Mirin struggled to explain the urge even in her own mind. The best she came up with was that something in her wanted to breed them all. She hated humanity; they judged and berated her for just existing. Yet she wanted to be near them. If she hated them all, she could move to the country, try living off the land and die in peace. Yet she chose to stay with her mother, in a city that wanted her gone, and in a tedious job.

She'd wanted to know what kept her there. That was why she started therapy, and because her mother wanted her out the apartment more, but after a year, she hadn't come any closer to understanding. Not until she fucked two girls, impregnated and all but enslaved them. It was simple genetics.

All of humanity was female. She was a futa, both male and female. The basic desire for procreation was stacked and amplified in her DNA. Of course she'd want to be around fertile wombs all day, whether she bred them or not.

Mirin studied the thermos she held. She sat in the waiting room, five minutes early as usual. A water cooler bubbled to her side and the air conditioning hummed overhead. Three others were with her, trying not to stare, but happily muttered to themselves or each other about her. One even snapped her picture. Let them. If this didn't work, then she was done with therapy.

"I'll see you later. Mirin, come in please." Miss Kierick appeared and gestured her through the door. That's new, Mirin thought. Normally she had to take the initiative. She stood to enter, then paused. The person leaving was familiar, the eyes and ponytail primarily. Mirin watched her leave without a glance back. That couldn't have been Nora.

"Mirin?"

"Sorry, thought I knew her."

The room was ornate yet cosy. Bookshelves lined the walls, while a leather sofa waited beside a small chair, made to give the patient comfort and a sense of power. A large desk was behind the two, imposing itself. Browns and reds wove together to create a warmth she never received from the therapist.

"Sorry for calling such short notice," Mirin said and took her usual seat on the sofa.

"Not a problem. A patient cancelled anyway, gives me a chance to kill time."

Again, an unusual response. Before it was short, curt answers with a deadpan face and angled body language; she never wanted to be there. Yet, Mirin received a tight smile. Even the temperature was better than normal.

"Uh, even so, I figured I owed you. So, here. It's a, um, special shake my mum makes." Mirin said and handed the thermos, filled with a thick, pungent liquid familiar only to three people.

"Thank you," Miss Kierick set it aside, and opened her file, "Last week we discussed 'sources of your anger', now it hasn't been long, so I doubt any progress has been made."

"Actually," Mirin licked her lips, "I wanted to talk about a couple of 'friends' I made."

"Oh?" Miss Kierick might be acting friendlier, but her disbelief was obvious. She took a gulp from the thermos without looking, frowned, then put it down without the lid.

"Yeah, they don't mind what I am. In fact, they love it." Mirin leaned onto the sofa's arm, crushing a breast into it. Her therapist's eyes flicked to them. It's working, she thought but kept the excitement contained. She made a show of shivering, "Sorry, do you mind turning up the thermostat? It's a bit chilly."

"Okay," Miss Kierick looked to be in shock as she adjusted the temperature. The room was warm enough already, but at this heat clothes would become uncomfortable. An excuse to strip, should the chance arise, and seal the deal. Mirin followed the therapist with her eyes, noting the tinge of red in her cheeks, the faint stumble of her steps, as if she were very conscious of something between them.

"Can I ask you something?" Mirin said, leaning back into the sofa and spreading her legs a little. She didn't want Miss Kierick to bring it up, but still notice, maybe stare. Mischievous beads of sweat ran down her naked thigh, obscured by her skirt and nothing else.

"I suppose." Miss Kierick took another sip, then a longer gulp. She licked what clung to her lips.

"Does something smell?" To someone in the know of Mirin's plan, she was being obvious. Pheromones carried in her scent; the deeper breaths her target took, the deeper she fell into their intoxicating trap. Her ploy was a simple, yet effective one as Miss Kierick sniffed the air, frowning and leaning around. She looked at Mirin for a second, then away.

"No. I don't smell anything."

"My bad then." Mirin widened her legs. The female could see her dick at any time, one wrong glance was all it took, but she kept her eyes elsewhere. The usual questions followed and Mirin deflated, worried that her plan had failed. All the conditions were correct. Alone in a room, offering the forbidden fruit, and nothing. Her right leg bounced, passing her dick over to the left with a pat. Miss Kierick paused at the sound.

Mirin thinned her eyes and smiled. It wasn't that her plan was a failure, this women had a stronger foundation than the other two.

"So, uh, Mirin... how are things with your mother?"

"Same old. She drinks, I drink. I ignore her, she ignores me."

"Okay. Tell me about those 'friends' of yours. What are they like?" Miss Kierick asked, finally breaking from the ritual.

"Hmm," Mirin pulled at her shirt, using it to breeze her scent toward her therapist, "One's called Erin, she's Swedish and my god, she's a good sl... friend. She's kind of like me, actually."

"How so?"

"Well, she's got massive tits. Almost the size of mine." She leaned forward to accentuate her twin mounds, "And her ass is nothing shabby either."

"You say it like those are good."

"They are," Mirin affirmed and squeezed her breasts, sighing at the pleasant tingle in her nipples, then slid her hands down her svelte belly and cupped her hips.

"So base," Miss Kierick muttered.

"Want to feel?" Mirin said, stood and turned, "It's soft and squishy, like a stuffed toy only... better."

"Um, I don't think..."

"Then don't think. Do."

"I suppose," Miss Kierick reached out and poked one cheek, her finger sunk to the first phalanx. She retreated and stared at the digit, then went back. This time her palm touched Mirin, then she squeezed, "So soft. But it's firm. Do you work out a lot?"

"No. I've always been like this. Look," Mirin turned with her shirt raised, showing her abdomen. She sucked in and her abs appeared, "Almost like I'm supposed to be better than others."

"Better than others," the therapist repeated, as if under a trance. Mirin returned to her seat, sneering at her supposed superior. This was someone with a degree, a PHD, for which she spent years and thousands on graduate school. Yet she was losing herself against Mirin's baser self.

"I've done some learning, Miss Kierick, Susan, and humans aren't like you."

"What do you mean? Everyone's like me. You're the abnormality."

"See, I thought that for ages too. 'I'm the freak, I wish I was normal...' So on and so forth. But then I met my 'friends'. I did what animals do, what humans did for millennia. I mated them."

"What?" Susan blinked at her and leaned back. She licked her lips.

"You know about it, right? You've got that expensive education. Makes you special, doesn't it? Not really. You're just like everyone else. Deep down, I'm talking way deep, you're just a beast. A worse one than what you people call me."

"Mirin, this is..."

"Do you want to see it? The thing I used on them. The thing that got them pregnant. The right way."

"If... if you must." And the rest was history.

About an hour later, Mirin lounged on Susan's desk chair, browsing through patient records. There! Nora Riley. It'd been almost ten years, which was perfect. According to Susan's notes, Nora was part of a Facebook group for their old school. They were talking about doing a reunion party. She looked up from the document at the therapist coming to on the sofa.

"How's it feel getting bred?" Mirin asked, coming to stand over her, cock out and still covered in pussy juice and cum.

"Unbelievable," Susan licked at the flaccid tip, "Will you stay?"

"Convince me."

The cum-bloated therapist slammed her intercom to an assistant, "Cancel everything today. How's that?"

"Well, I've got nothing better to do," Mirin said, though her erection was eager to impale Susan's womb again. The next would be Nora's.