Futanari Sexperiment Ch. 01

I may like fantasy, but I also love science fiction, so I am exploring that genre with several stories. This is a futanari/hermaphrodite story because, in the world of science fiction, you can grow a dick on a woman. Because, y'know, science.

This happens in the same world as Sing Love the Electric Heart, or All in the Cure, but at a different time/city/land and is a standalone story. Readers are warned that this story contains dub/noncon.

o0o

Emilie winced in pain as she and her companions raced through the alleyways, trying to evade their pursuers. There'd been nearly a dozen of them in the beginning, gathered together for a potluck supper before they'd been alerted by a neighbor. Although the warning came only several minutes before the police burst into Lacey's flat, it'd given them enough time to clear the building.

Of course, they were not the first to run, and the police had experience in dealing with runners. Fortunately for her, she was more familiar with these back ways than the men and women who generally filled the ranks of the law enforcement that served this city.

Emilie had twisted her ankle stepping on some debris, and she moved along with somewhere between a sprint and limp, the other women tugging at her arms as they sought refuge.

They squeezed through several narrow alleys, barely wide enough to comfortably admit an average person, and when they finally came to a stop, they did their best to hold back their ragged breaths.

She felt Lacey and Shan squeeze her hands, and she nodded at them slowly as they huddled below the shadow of a walkway. Pressing themselves up against the wall, they covered their faces with their hands, closing their eyes as they tried to calm themselves. This would not be a refuge for too long, and they would need to find somewhere more permanent. All of them were burning with questions, but these would be discussed later.

Their ears remained cocked, and they heard various noises -- shouting, music, sirens, traffic. Emilie wiggled her injured ankle, testing it before she lowered her hands. Slowly, she pulled the hood more tightly over her head, feeling her hands shake as she processed the events of the last quarter of an hour.

It'd been nothing more than a friendly potluck, a way for neighbors or friends to pool time and resources to feed one another. They'd barely sat down and had a few bites before the neighbor banged on the door, panting and ruddy-cheeked, bleating out a warning.

These few bites of Shan's potato salad had been nowhere near enough to whet her hunger, and she felt her stomach rumble. Although an empty stomach was the least of her troubles. Lacey had just as good as lost her flat. Either someone had reported an 'unlawful gathering', or Lacey was to be arrested for some crime that Emilie was certain she had not committed.

Her hands balled into fists. How could the people of the Upper Echelon treat them like this? Not for the first time did she know the answer to that question. The Uppers had the power and wealth, and they intended to keep it that way. Various ways included keeping Lower Echelon job wages at a level that allowed for little more than subsistence if that. The legal system also favored the Uppers, and being one of the vaunted Uppers, or even a Middle, came with certain privileges, such as better education or access to medical care.

Naturally, there were dissenters, and those who tried to affect change through violence, but the Uppers maintained their advantage. It was all too easy when you were born with the odds decided in -- or against -- your favor. Those who were born in the Upper Echelon usually remained there throughout life. And one in the Lower Echelon might, just might, be able to work their way up to the Middle Echelon, but that was very rare.

And so the people of the Upper Echelon continued to live their life of power and privilege, on the back of the Middle and Lower Echelons.

"I think we can get up now. You good to go, Emilie?" Lacey whispered. She nodded as she slowly rose to her feet, testing the weight on her ankle. Yeah, it hurt, but if she had to run some more, she would. One did not let the police catch them, for once taken into custody, people rarely got out.

After listening carefully for several long moments for the presence of police officers or their vehicles, the women made their way down the alleyway, treading lightly. One good thing about the alleys and haphazard building plans in the tenements of the city was that they made it much more difficult for police to give chase in vehicles, whether by land or even by air.

"We can go to my aunt's building, it's a few blocks from here if we're where I think we are. I'm not as familiar with this neighborhood, but I'm certain we're not far." Shan murmured.

"Is it a safe place?" Lacey asked. Shan nodded. With the promise of refuge, even with her injured ankle, Emilie could swear her step felt lighter.

"Yes, I was right. Just two more blocks," Shan whispered, elation all too clear even in the quiet tone.

Suddenly, a bright light flooded her vision, and instinctively, she turned right to flee. There were shouts and the sound of weapons being fired. She fell forward, blinking several times as she tried to scramble to her feet before everything went dark.

There were flashes of consciousness that she would not piece together until later. There were voices, and a hand on her forehead.

"I will take custody of this one." she heard someone say.

"As you wish, Dr. Tymbry. What of the others?"

"Keep them downstairs for now. They could be useful in the future."

Even in her drug-induced haze, she felt her stomach twist in terror. Managing to open her eyes a bit, she saw a man lean over her, his head blocking much of the overhead light as he peered down at her. She tried to say something, to scream. Though his visage was fuzzy due to her disorientation, she was able to make out the smile that twisted onto his pale features.

o0o

Emilie twisted her arms against the restraints, even though common sense told her that her struggles would be ineffective. With a groan, she slammed her head back onto her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Where the hell was she? Not a standard hospital space, that was for sure. She saw a dark linoleum floor and smooth gray walls. One wall was lined with bookshelves bearing books and folders as well as several boxes and neatly-stacked cases of electronics. An armchair sat in the corner. The room was windowless.

She'd heard the stories, of course. Human trafficking, along with illegal experimentation. All too often, the two went hand in hand. What was to become of her? She felt panic welling in her chest but managed to fight back a scream. There were footsteps.

She looked down at her wrist cuffs again, and the IV line that fed some unknown substance into her bloodstream. She didn't want to imagine the horrors that awaited her.

"Good evening," she heard a somewhat familiar voice say as a shadow moved across the wall, and the owner of the voice came within her line of sight almost right at the end of that sentence. She looked up into the face of Ernst Tymbry for a moment before looking away. Nonetheless, the visage of his aquiline nose and angled jaw fringed by a dark beard remained in her memory.

"I trust you are comfortable?" he asked gently, steepling his fingers against his stomach. He was attired in a nice shirt and pants, with a white doctor's coat over it. She wondered what he had in mind for her. How many other girls did he do this to? How many people had suffered at his hands? That son of a bitch!

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, sharply skipping the preamble. He approached her, and she felt his hand brush against her forehead and temple. Jerking her head away, she glared up at him angrily.

"There's no need to be so upset, Emilie."

"You're kidding me, right? I wake up bound, and you have the nerve-" Her voice increased sharply in decibel.

His hand descended to her mouth, pressing her head back against the pillow as he stared down at her. In the shadows, his eyes looked black. "I understand that these circumstances may seem less desirable to you. But be assured, you will come to no harm. The restraints are for your safety, and the drip has a brew of vitamins to ensure good health. Now, I am going to lift my hand. I expect you to not shout or scream because I do not wish to have to muffle you."

She stared at him silently as he lifted his hand. She lightly chewed the inside of her lower lip, keeping her mouth shut.

"Now, that's better. I can tell you as much or as little as you're comfortable with. I want this transition to be an easy one, for both of our sakes."

Transition? What the fuck is he talking about? He seemed too cavalier about the entire situation. The calmness in his voice only had the opposite effect on her mood.

"I don't know what you want. And I don't care. I just want to go home."

"This is your home now." His hand touched her jaw, and she flung her chin to the other side. "Understand this, I will brook no argument. You are welcome to ask questions, but there are things you must, and will, accept about the reality of things." His fingers slid to her chin, and he turned her face so she was now looking at him. Rage clouded her light brown eyes. However, she managed to keep herself collected, recalling his warning about noise.

"Why am I here? What are you doing to me?" She choked back her fury, rationalizing the need for information.

"You are here because I feel that you are best suited to be my companion."

"Couldn't put out an advertisement, huh?" she shot back with sarcasm.

"Why would I do that when I already had made my choice?" His hand slid down her shoulder.

Oh, that bastard better not... Well, it wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter, anyway, as the embrace of the restraints reminded her. "And you didn't think to give me a choice?" she reminded him, not holding back the sharpness in her tone.

"If I had come to you, and asked you to come here, would you?" he asked.

"Of course not!" she spat out as if it should have been as obvious as the nose on one's face.

"See," he replied, clearly feeling justified in his actions. "Now, moving on to the next question. You may have heard things about me," he commented.

"Hardly anyone doesn't know," she reminded him. Many said that the news stories about Ernst Tymbry and what went on in his labs had to be exaggerated. Certain people in the upper echelons of society were said to fund scientists who did twisted experiments away from the prying eyes of the law. There were rumors of metahumans and freaks and even soldiers who came from the so-called wonders of scientific discovery and manipulation.

"Well, much of what is being said of me is outright fabrication. But I will not deny that I have done things some would deem questionable. But I did it for science, and have reaped the benefits of my groundbreaking research. I have made myself a god," he proclaimed.

She could only stare at him in shock, wondering what sort of delusions he operated under, what sort of atrocities he had committed.

"Mr. Tymbry..." She struggled to rise from the bed, but the strap across her chest put paid to that action. His hand slid down to her breast, and she tried to wiggle away, but again the restraints were too effective. A small gasp burst from her throat as he squeezed it, cupping it gently before running his thumb across the nipple. It puckered almost immediately under the thin material of the hospital gown she was wearing.

"And as for you, my Emilie... I shall bestow my blessings upon you."

"I don't want these blessings. Let me go."

The hand gave her one final caress before withdrawing. He smirked down at her, the lamplight sharpening the shadows across his aquiline features. "I've already started giving them to you." His hand returned to her breast. Viscerally, she recoiled from his touch, but her nipple hardened further, and oddly enough, there was a faint, pleasantly warm sensation around her aureola.

The brunette had never considered her sexual responses to be abnormal. Sure, her libido might have been low at times, but porn and/or the right attention and mood could get her going. None of that was present here, yet she had to bite back a groan as Ernst tugged the fabric taut against her chest, her nipples as hard as they had ever been.

She couldn't believe it. Generally, her nipples weren't very sensitive, and she didn't care if they were not involved in any foreplay. With a scowl, she looked away as he rubbed the palm of his finger across one nipple, applying pressure in a tight circle.

"Wonderful," Ernst breathed.

"What have you done?" she asked in fascination and horror. Her drip... did it contain more than vitamins?

"Part of your treatment. Increased vigor comes with increased response to... certain stimuli." His hand was now kneading her breast before moving around in a lazy but firm circle. "Which one do you like better? The squeezing or the rubbing?"

"I'm not telling you that! Let me out of these!" She gave a sharp jerk with her upper body.

"Only when I am certain you will not try to attack me or escape," he commented.

Oh. So there is a possible way out, she deduced. She weighed her options when he squeezed her breasts for a few seconds before rubbing them again.

"Squeeze, or rub?" he quietly demanded.

"... Rub," she conceded. His hand moved to her other breast, rubbing the nipple and mound, and she felt a knot begin to tighten behind her navel.

"How sensitive do you feel, compared to before?" he asked.

Her eyebrows furrowed at that, and she looked away. I'm not discussing my intimate details with this asshole! Her hips shifted around as he started to rub her breast more firmly, going in a circle and gently squeezing with his fingers.

The hands slid away, and Emilie felt a twinge of disappointment. The blanket slid down her hips, revealing that her gown ended just above the knee.

Due to her chest band, he was unable to lift the fabric to expose her breasts, but he lifted the hem to reveal something considerably more intimate. She shivered as she felt cool air between her legs, and then several fingers lightly brushed against her inner thigh. The uplifted fabric ensured that she could only feel what he was doing, and her hands curled into fists as she felt a finger trace from her hip along the valley where her leg and pelvis connected, A faint tugging sensation of her pubic region showed where his finger dragged through the thatch of dark hair that surrounded the moist slit that Ernst so clearly wanted. Had wanted for a while, apparently.

"Please." She took a deep breath as his eyes moved up and down her body.

"You're coming along nicely, but then I expected no less." His finger slid further south, and a small whimper escaped her lips as she felt a stab of warmth at her clit before the heat expanded. The finger probed her opening, sliding in to the first knuckle and rubbing up and down.

"Oh!" She was unable to bite back a gasp when he started rubbing more firmly.

"Yes. That feels quite nice, doesn't it?" He wiggled and stroked several times, plumbing her depths as she squirmed around. Her clit was rubbed several times, and she bit her lip to hold back a moan. The hand withdrew, and she blushed as he rubbed his slick fingers together.

"You bastard," she hissed.

"You'll be calling me other things soon enough." He lifted his hand, wafting the scent of her pussy under his nose as he delicately sniffed his fingers. "I think it's time for another rest. Your body has been through a lot, hmm?"

A jumble of events flowed through her consciousness. The chase, the capture... Her friends.

Pressing her shoulder to the surface she was on confirmed that she'd struck her shoulder -- hard -- against a rock, but the pain was not as sharp as it could have been. How long had she been out of it?

"No signs of infection, the bruises are well on their way out, and I relocated your shoulder and stitched up a nasty cut on your leg. You'll be as good as new in a couple more days."

"What's going to happen to me, then?"

"Hopefully I can trust you enough to not need to keep you confined." He straightened her gown before pulling the blanket back up. He adjusted something on her drip. "But for now, a couple more treatments are needed, and it is best that you be kept in a calm state while you are receiving them." He reached down to stroke her forehead.

"Treatments for what?"

"Hormones, and gene therapy," he replied matter-of-factly. If not for the morphine creeping through her veins, she would have likely started thrashing against her bonds. Her brows furrowed in indignation, and she lifted her chin to look up at him.

"Relax. It's done wonders for me, and it can only benefit you, as you will see. Not all the stories you've heard about me are true, my dear.

"And what does this... therapy entail?" she asked, knowing this was going to get her more answers than yelling at him angrily.

"As you've already seen, increased arousal and more intense response. But there are other goodies. An improved immune system, slower aging... things I doubt you would have to complain about, hmm?"

She looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek. How could she best respond to that? Fingers trailing along the side of her neck caused her to flinch, and she whipped her attention back to him.

"And I take it you expect me to express my gratitude in the form of..." She trailed off, not wanting to try to come up with a word to describe her situation. This was bizarre enough as it was.

"I might as well be honest about it. Yes." His hand slid back up her throat, trailing along her jaw and chin. "And remember, it's not just that. I'm keeping you safe and I have your friends in custody, so if you have any ideas of defiance and escape, just remember that." He lightly trailed a finger along her lips.

"I will be sure to keep that in mind," she replied neutrally.

"I do desire you. I am not a cruel man. You will come to enjoy the enhancements I have given you, and my attentions." He stared down at her, several loose, lank strands of dark hair framing his face. "And of course, there is the bonus of contributing to scientific advancement!" he added cheerfully.

o0o

She drifted in a drug-induced twilight. On occasion, she was aware of a television playing, her eyes picking up images if she tried hard enough to focus. Fingers worked her arms and legs, and she heard murmurs about aiding circulation. Other times, he was checking in on her taking blood samples, and feeding her. When she was lucid enough, she sometimes felt a tightness in her groin, but her arms and hands were bound, so she could not touch herself. But sometimes he would touch her, although he never brought her to climax, leaving her frustrated and aroused despite her anger towards him and the situation.

She lay awake, waiting to be fed or paid a visit. She'd been conscious for half an hour now, and had the TV on again for company, playing a popular drama. She was ambivalent about the genre, but the show was interesting enough to keep her occupied while she was restrained as she was.

The door opened, and Doctor Tymbry entered the room. She stared at him, green-blue eyes under thick lashes regarding his presence. His long black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and even though she was sure he'd become taller, he still had a bit of a stoop. It did nothing to take away from the look of a mad scientist.

"How are you today?" he asked as he looked down at her, running his fingers along her cheek and jaw. He seemed excited about something.

"Today? How many days has it been? Since our last talk?" she asked.

"Three."

"Three?" she gasped. He smiled faintly. "Your recovery has been going well. Most of the bruises are gone, and it is time to get some exercise." His hand slid to her wrist. "Remember what we have discussed before."