Exchange of Information

Contains:

futanari(dickgirl)/male, fantasy themes

Author's Notes:

Written as a belated gift for a friend of mine, for this prompt: "Okay, how about futa on excessively girly boy"; I'm not sure if I'm equipped to write 'excessively girly boy', but I gave it my best shot. Apparently 'excessively girly boy' translates as 'prostitute' to me, and I truly don't mean any harm by it. Unbeta'ed except for my own eyes; please forgive any errors. Will be posted to other forums, my apologies if you come across it more than once.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work; unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

+++

Jathna Hib sat down at a table to one side of the low-lit room, peering around. She hoped she didn't appear too anxious, but considering her overall appearance, that wasn't a high possibility. Besides, no one was paying much attention to a tall, muscular female wearing travel-worn battle armour and a thick scarf over a black corset and loose, brown trousers. Most of the other patrons of the L'Obliet were more concerned with getting sucked off or fingered in the low couches placed haphazardly in the dungeon-like space; the scent of cock-jizz and cunt-juice rose up in the air, thick and heady, mixing with the smoke being produced by the few sputtering candles.

She wasn't here for a fuck, even though she paid a lot of money to enter one of the most popular whorehouses this side of the massive Kasjh River. She was here on a mission, a very serious mission, and she needed to find her contact as soon as possible. She hadn't been given a description, which was unusual. The only thing she knew was the code-phrase that would be used.

Someone sat in the seat opposite her and Jathna frowned. One of L'Obliet's whores smiled in return, long black curls framing a narrow face; strands of paste-jewelry hung around the smooth neck in many loops. The whore sported loose, flimsy clothing, hiding nothing and revealing that as feminine as they appeared at first glance, this was actually a male.

"Hail, wanderer," he said. "I am Yoia. What can I do for you?" He twisted his fingers in his curls, and gave Jathna a coy smile. "I am here to serve."

"I don't need your service," Jothna said, keeping her words and tone short. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Here in L'Obliet?" Yoia tilted his head. "You've been here before and you want the person you had the last time? Is that it?"

"No." Jothna wanted this person to just leave.

Yoia leaned forward, touching Jothna's hand where it rested atop the table with his long fingers. She noticed that he wore many rings, and on each wrist was a tight circlet of dull copper.

"You can't just sit in here without taking someone. You paid to enter and it looks very suspicious. You're not horny?"

Jothna curled her lip at him, at all his bothersome questions, and moved her hand away. "Not at the moment."

"Something wrong with you?" He tilted his head the other way, dark gaze considering. "With all your parts?"

Jothna squinted at him, and Yoia chuckled.

"Oh, I've had your kind before," he told her. "You're Ivitian, right? From the south. I can tell by your neck-patterns."

Jothna fought the urge to pull up her scarf. Ivit tribal-markings were sometimes too distinct: a matter of pride within the region of her own people, and a liability in the rest of the Empire. Yoia grinned at her; his teeth were straight and even, and very white. Human-like teeth, and he did look mostly human, except his eyes had that vertical slit which indicated some Bastian blood. Jothna ran her tongue over her own sharp, dangerous teeth in a contemplative manner.

"But you know what they say," Yoia said, in a slow, thoughtful way, 'you can't always judge an Ivitian by the marks on their necks.'"

Jothna stared at him. That was the code-phrase, word-for-word. This was her contact: a whore with plump lips made for fucking, big dark eyes and caramel-smooth skin. This was the person who held such vital information for the Resistance.

Maybe her birth-parent Hib Hon was right: the Resistance was going to lose, and badly.

Yoia stroked a finger through a circular patch of water left behind by some other patron's drink.

"How many credits do you have?" he asked, gazing down at his all-important task of making patterns in the water. Jothna calculated in her head and told him. He nodded. "Go over to that table in the corner there, next to that corridor, and tell the Master that you're taking me for one hour. That's one-fifty."

Jothna felt her eyebrows climb up almost against her will. "A bit pricey, aren't you?" One hundred and fifty was more than half of the money she had left.

Yoia smiled widely, and ran a hand through his elaborate curls. "Oh, I'm worth it."

Jothna got to her feet without reply and strode over to where the so-called Master sat at a rickety table. He was very scrawny, his skin sweaty and pasty at the same time. Jothna could understand why. Behind the Whore-master's chair, a figure stood all clothed in black, diaphanous robes. A wide-mouthed hood covered the head of the figure completely, and the ragged hems of the robe seemed to flutter in an unseen breeze. Jothna felt a chill, as if someone had opened a window over her bed on a cold day, and hurriedly paid the Master for an hour's worth of Yoia's private time.

"Follow me," Yoia said from where he popped up suddenly at Jothna's elbow; she noticed that while he wasn't as tall as she was, he still had a good height on him. She followed him along the corridor and up quite a few flights of narrow, steep stairs, before ending up in a much wider passage-way. He opened his door and stepped inside. Jothna had to duck to pass through the doorway safely without knocking the top of her head on the roughly-hewn timber.

After lighting a few candles from the small lamp in one corner, Yoia locked the door and bolted it.

"You know a little magic, right?" he asked, turning towards her.

Jothna nodded, trying to appear modest. "A little." A lot, actually; at least, she knew enough to cast a very quiet muffling-spell which would not be enough to alert the listening-wraith downstairs, but would successfully prevent any of their words from being picked up clearly. The Empire was putting its wraiths even in the whorehouses now; they were getting serious about tracking Resistance operatives.

"Done?" Yoia asked and then sat down on the edge of his wide, neatly made bed when she nodded again. "Alright, good. I'm ready."

Jothna nodded. She began to pass on the important messages from the North: weapons-storage, stolen battle-procedures, corrections to proposed counterattacks. When she was finished, she insisted that he repeat everything, making sure that everything was correct and in the right order. He did so, twice, and to Jothna's satisfaction each time. It was easy for an Ivitian to transmit and retain information in such an aural fashion; their entire culture was built on word-of-mouth, and up until quite recently they had no words in their language which meant 'to record' or even 'to write down'. An Ivitian could always repeat something they were told once; some could even mimic the original voice or tone in a manner that other races found unsettling.Yoian remembered all the information correctly, and Jothna was actually quite impressed.

"Well done," she said, rising from the squat stool she had been sitting on while listening. "Your hard work is appreciated."

"Where are you going?" Yoia asked. "You need to fuck me."

Jothna nearly stumbled. "What?"

Yoia held up his hands, drawing her attention to the tight bracelets around his wrists. "These monitors are charmed to pick up sexual release. If the Master notices that you paid and came up here just for a chat, he'll definitely tell that wraith."

Jothna exhaled slowly. "So I have to fuck you as part of this whole...mission." At Yoia's nod, she shrugged. "I suppose there are worse things to do with my time."

"We can make it quick, if you want. You've already paid for me, anyway." Yoia drew back on his bed, resting on his elbows and eyeing her as she removed the armour and the large scarf. She kept on the corset, since it wasn't the type that gave her a sensuous décolletage. She actually used it to strap down her massive tits, hiding them. She didn't really like them; they were too big, too sensitive, the nipples perking up at any opportunity.

"Take off that top part," Yoia said as Jothna undid the fastenings of her trousers. "Why are you leaving it on? Let me see those nice tits of yours." How he had gotten naked so fast, Jothna didn't know; probably it was an integral part of a special whore-training. He lounged on one elbow, all long smooth limbs, a hand held loosely around himself. He pumped himself slowly, cock thickening as he gave her an inviting grin.

Jothna hesitated; she could feel her own cock getting hard, making itself known in the front of her trousers. Yoia gave her erection a lingering glance. Without giving herself time to think, she reached behind herself and undid the fastenings for the corset, letting out a long breath as it fell. Her tits fairly sprang free, standing proud despite their size. She watched Yoia lick his lips and moaned softly as her nipples crinkled, arousal starting to whisper in the depths of her stomach and across her skin. Her cock got even larger, the broad head of it poking through through the opening she'd left in her trousers.

She hadn't had a fuck in a long time.

"Come on, baby," Yoia said, eyes heavy-lidded. He parted his slim legs, still pulling at his prick. From here, Jothna could see the end of some thick plug inserted into his asshole. Jothna wondered how he'd sat and walked around looking completely comfortable with that thing up inside him. The Rebel Confederacy had some well-trained whores on their side, at the very least.

He arched languorously as she approached the bed. Then, moving suddenly, he sat up on the edge of the bed and then slid off to kneel in front of her. He grasped the waistband of her trousers and tugged them down past her hips, urging her wordlessly to step out of them. Her cock, hard and thick, swung in front of his face. When he stuck out his tongue and poked at the slit, tasting the clear juices flowing from the slit, Jothna let out a low groan.

He was worth it, Jothna thought as he licked along the length of her throbbing cock and then groaned again as he took her fully into his hot, wet mouth, his head bobbing back and forth. She put her hands on his head, clutching his curls. Jothna fucked his mouth slowly, not wanting to choke him, but he was truly a professional. He licked and sucked, sometimes taking her right down to the root; he peered up her now and again, his mouth stretched around her cock.

Jothna pulled his head back forcefully after some minutes of this, gripping the base of her dick to stave off her urgent release. Yoia grinned, lips wet and red. He reached under his bed and pulled out a small box, which contained a square glass vessel and a stack of thin, almost translucent sheaths. He gave the glass vessel to her, and poked around stack, pulling out big one.

"This should be your size," he said with a little laugh; it was a bit tight, Jothna found as she fitted the sheath onto her cock, and slathered some of the slick substance from the glass container on the surface of it, but it seemed to be as strong as it was thin. By the time she was finished, Yoia was on his hands and knees on the bed, finely-made rump wriggling in invitation."You want this boy-cunt?"

Jothna wanted to roll her eyes; instead, she grasped the bulbous end of the tapered, cylindrical and surprisingly heavy object and drew it out, slowly. She stared at the shape of it as it withdrew, gleaming from lubricant he had placed on it. His inner walls seem to cling at it, and the skin of his hole slid out a little with the outward movement. It wasn't what Jothna was used to, but it was intriguing. He didn't have another puffy slit for a cunt beneath his balls like an Ivitian, just the now gaping hole of his anus as the plug withdrew completely, clenching in invitation.

She put two of her fingers inside his hole, fingering him open a bit more. He moaned and arched, and hurriedly, she grabbed at her cock and placed the huge head at his entrance. She pushed, watching as his hole stretched even more to swallow the bulbous glans and Yoia actually gasped as it popped in completely, the rest of the shaft tunnelling deep inside after it.

Jothna gripped his hips tightly, gazed fixed down at the point where they joined; he was hot and tight. She pulled out and pushed in again. Yoia clutched handfuls of his sheets and groaned into his cushion as she did it again and again, starting to fuck in earnest. With every stroke in, Yoia let out a cry or a groan, shifting up in the bed almost helplessly, and Jothna had to hold onto him firmly. She reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him back so that he was upright, pressed back against her ample chest. The angle was amazing at this point, he felt so tight around her cock that her hips moved in urgent rhythm, chasing release. Sweat poured off their skin, and Jothna could see one of his arms moving, indicating that he was jacking off.

"Yes," he urged breathlessly, rocking down against her; his bottom slapped against the cradle of her hips with a fleshy sound. "Fuck me, fuck!"

Without warning, she pulled him off, and rolled him onto his back. He spread his legs, and pulled up his knees; Jothna stuck herself back inside him and, bracing her arms on either side of his head, drove herself inside him over and over. She jerked in surprise as he gripped her nipples, pinching them and tugging them out inches away from her tits. That was such a delicious pain, and he tightened his inner walls around her cock; she hammered into him, his thighs clenched against her sides.

She couldn't hold it back anymore; with a hoarse shout, she thrust herself as deep as she could go and distantly, felt him shudder as her cock pulsed out streams of come deep inside his rectum.

"Mmm," Yoia hummed when she finally came out of that red haze of release. His flat stomach was streaked with pearly strands of his own come. Softening, she slipped out of him and peeled off the used sheath, taking care not to drip some of the copious quantity of jizz onto his sheets. "Good, right?"

Jothna huffed a tired laugh, shaking her head. "Yes. It was good."

It took a short time for them to get dressed. He walked with her down the stairs, chattering nonsense along the way. At the bottom of the staircase, he pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and said, "I hope we meet again, Jothna Hib."

She had exited L'Obliet, and had actually walked a few minutes down the road, when a realization struck her so suddenly that she drew up short.

Rebel messengers didn't know names unless they were told upon meeting; contacts only knew messengers by descriptors...

....and she hadn't told him her name.