Love Training

Kyla swiped the sweat away from her eyes, and then flicked the liquid off her hand, while leaning her body weight on her broom. That damn day was too hot, way too hot.

She looked around: The empty locker room was completely still, patiently waiting to be cleaned, its air saturated with the smell of humanity. That damn air, filling up her lungs, saturating her senses, awakening primal desires in her brain. Something stirred within her pants.

The futanari sighed, and then groaned in frustration. Maybe it was not the day that was too hot, but that damn locker room. Or the whole days spent around half naked people exercising. Or maybe it was just her.

"Ok, maybe just some quick fun" she said, to none in particular. She glanced around, then poked her head outside the room, into the long corridor. None in sight. She retreated inside, the fresh air of the outside immediately replaced by the heavy air of the inside, forcing a whiny moan out of her lips.

She shook her head, and retreated to the shower room, where she quickly dropped down the blue trousers of the uniform, revealing her huge thighs and calves, thick with muscles and barely contained power. Next were her pants, which were fighting against her cock, and losing badly. She had to apply quite a bit of strength to free her python from the strained fabric, but finally her cock was free.

Being a futanari was a lot of work, and being a futanari suffering from Maxwell syndrome, or futanari-related stationary hyper-sexuality syndrome, even more work. If normal futanari were very sexual beings, those that suffered from her same condition could think or do little else than sex. She had to take some pills daily just to function as a normal human being, and she still had to relieve herself at least once during her work hours. She lost many jobs because of her condition.

Frankly, she had been lucky she got her current job as a janitor at the sports center. Working in that massive and renowned installation was in many ways a dream come true: She earned enough to pay for her very expensive medication, and she got to use the gym for free after opening hours.

Working out was one of the very few things that she thoroughly enjoyed, and one of the few things that were enhanced, not dampened, by her over-active libido; in fact it was not rare for her to climax during exercise. Plus, the brief period of complete exhaustion after a heavy workout was one of the few moments during the day that she truly felt satisfied, physically and mentally.

The downside of the job is that the larger part of it had to do with cleaning the equipment and rooms of the building, which by itself would not be difficult, if it was not for the effect the leftover smell of humanity had on her. Just sweat would be tolerable, if barely, but it was not rare to find traces of sex in and around the center: in the bathrooms, the pools, and the shaded corners of the fields outside, be it sexual fluids, condoms, forgotten clothes, or even abandoned toys. And all of that was made worse by the hours spent stealing glances from the many clients and professional athletes that frequented the center, all wearing as little as they could get away with to escape the heat of the early summer.

She gently caressed her chiseled abs, and then took her dick in hand. She would be lying if she said she was not proud of her body, and of her male parts in particular: The tower of spongy flesh stood hard and ready before her, veins crossing its surface, while the head dripped precum. It measured just shy of ten inches, or a beer can and a half in length, as one of her past lovers observed, and almost as thick as one.

She could feel the heat coming off her aroused cock on the skin of her hand. Her fingers not quite long enough to wrap all the way around it.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirrors of the bathroom, above the row of sinks. Her reddened face looked back at her, with her shoulder length black hair and pale gray eyes. Her sharp lineaments and fair skin contrasting with the poorly lit darker background behind her.

The top of her head was above the mirror, due to her towering height of seven feet two.

Her huge reflected image almost filled the mirror completely, with her powerful shoulders and arms framing her equally impressive chest and lower body.

The long years spent trying to shed her sexual energy off by exhausting her body with exercises gave her a powerful physique. She was not a bodybuilder, by profession or appearance, but she definitely packed a lot more muscles than your average person, and more than most of the non-weightlifting athletes that came to the sports center.

She was proud of what she had built, even if it was just a by-product of her clumsy attempt at self-medication. The downside was that it made her look quite intimidating and unapproachable: She could not remember the last time someone approached her at a bar or an event just to exchange some drinks and have a pleasant conversation.

Most of her conquests came from the internet, there she could be a little bit more relaxed and less worried about scaring the hell out of people with her size and eagerness. She did find a fair few men, women and futanari that fetishized her size or her condition, and admittedly they had been some of the best fucks of her life, but once the novelty wore off, none of them were willing to deal with her any longer.

The introspective moment somewhat dimmed her arousal, but just for a moment. Soon enough, her cock reclaimed her attention and her inner thoughts were swept away by the blissful sensation of pleasure her hands gave her by rubbing her large glans.

She started slow, enjoying the moment, but her needy sex grew more desperate with each movement of her expert fingers, and in just a few minutes, she was furiously jacking off. Her other hand made her way down under her lemon sized balls, to her dripping pussy, craving attention too.

Her fingers, already slick with female juices, slipped inside with ease, and began pleasuring her vagina, while her inner walls trembled under the digital assault.

The bathroom echoed her moans and grunts back to her, making it sound like there was a full orgy going on in the space around her, while the smell of sweat, sex, and cum grew in intensity with each thrust of her hands.

Sparkles of pleasure radiated from her groin, flooding her body from head to toe, while pressure began mounting up. The frenetic movement of her hand and fingers matched the intensity of her inner sensations, growing with it as more and more waves of pleasure cleared out her mind, leaving space only for the desperate need for release.

And then it finally came, the pressure released and the gates opened. Her cock twitched, then began spewing large waves of cum, hitting the mirror and filling the sink with gooey white liquid. Her limbs became weak, while pleasure invaded every cell of her body with the impetus of a cavalry charge. Her mouth hang open, a silent scream leaving her throat.

The heavy air became heavier, saturated with the smell of cum, while the sink tried in vain to manage the overwhelming quantity of the thick fluid. Spurt after spurt, her orgasm advanced, then slowly began retreating, until it left her, trembling, exhausted, panting, and satisfied.

With half a smile, Kyla looked down: The sink was filled with what looked like a good beer glass worth of semen, plus some extra decorating the mirror and the wall. It would take a minute or two to clean everything up, but it had been worth it.

"Kyla? Are you in here?" An old, growly male voice said, from outside the bathroom. Kyla's heart jumped into her throat, as a squeal escaped her lips. Her boss was there.

"Just a minute, I'm... in the bathroom" she said.

"All right, no problem, do what you have to do. I just wanted to know if you were still here, and working" he replied, and then left.

Kyla took a deep breath. That was lucky.

Mike, her boss, was quite understanding with her. He was the reason she got that job in the first place: He's a friend of his parents and helped her get hired. He had a niece that suffered from the same condition as her, so he knew the issues it caused. Because of that, he let her get away with some things once in a while, and she was extremely thankful for that. Still, she tried her hardest not to rely on his goodwill too much, she worked hard to earn his respect and did not want to lose it because of her damn libido.

Her deflating cock mirrored the emotions that were storming her mind. It had always been like that for her: Immense pleasure and pride, followed by shame and regret.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, then began cleaning herself up, forcing a stone cold expression of pure professionalism on her face. She had work to do, and she was going to do it, and her dick will have to deal with it.

___________

Ryan finally put the last folder away and collapsed on his chair. It took everything he had but he finally finished with the... first drawer of the first cabinet.

A sigh of pure defeat rose from his lungs. When the director told him to reorganize and digitalize their archive, he did not think it would be such a titanic job, it was just a sports center after all. And yet there were rooms filled with misfiled and often miscompiled documents. He could barely comprehend how that was even possible.

Still, he was done for the day. He fixed his short, blonde hair with his hand and stood up, then stretched his poor limbs, feeling his joints creak and snap after hours spent hunched over a table. Finally, he quickly gathered his things and opened the door.

Just as he stepped outside, however, his face collided with something standing right in front of the door. The hit made him stagger backwards, pain quickly spread from his nose to the rest of his head. Dazed and confused, he flayed his arms around looking for support, finding some in a chair only moments before he completely lost his equilibrium.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" A warm feminine voice said.

He looked up and gulped.

The immovable object his head made contact with was a towering woman, looking at him with a worried expression. Her grey eyes darting all over his body to assess the damage. She was bending her knees, hunching over, her hands kept in front of her in a gesture that was half an offer of help and half an apology.

And yet she still looked absolutely gigantic, he was not surprised his nose hurt that much. He was on the shorter and slimmer side for a man, but he never felt that small before. His heart was racing in his chest, and yet his lungs refused to work. The rational part of his mind was pulling double duty to keep him from melting into a puddle on the floor right there and then, just because of the intimidating figure before him.

Maybe sensing his emotional state, she took a step back and looked away. "I'm sorry, I thought there was none left in the offices, I should have been more careful."

Her trembling voice shook him out of his stupor. He breathed in and stood up, ashamed of behaving like a scared little kid, and making her feel bad about an honest incident. "N-No worries, it happens, ahah" he said, trying his best to imitate genuine human laughter. "I-I'm Ryan, I'm a new hire here."

"Oh, it's nice to meet you, I'm Kyla. I work here as a janitor" she said, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks, while her eyes escaped his gaze. "Sorry for the-that again. I'll leave you to your things" she added, raising her hands to give an awkward salute. She then turned around and quickly left the corridor, without even leaving him time to answer.

Ryan could not help but smile a little at the display. His silly fear was completely gone and now he just felt bad for the whole affair. God he was such an idiot.

He gave a last look to the office, to see if he forgot something, and the closed the door behind him. A minute later, he was outside the center. The huge white structure, with its gyms, spa, pools, playing fields, was almost completely shrouded in darkness, he could not think of the last time he worked that late into the evening, but it was a new job and he wanted to impress his boss.

He was about to go home when, on a whim, he decided to deviate and go to a local gaming cafe he visited once in a while. Rent ate most of his income, and his aging laptop could not handle most games, so when he wanted to treat himself, he got there and played the latest hits. After a day like that one, he felt like he deserved a couple of hours of fun.

Inside, the flashy and extravagant atmosphere of the place hit him immediately. The furniture and walls were covered in gaming memorabilia, posters, souvenirs and such, while music from who knows what videogame filled the background.

There was quite the crowd that evening, people streamed in and out of the computer room and the bar, getting drinks and socializing. The average age was a bit below his own, but he was not the only one well into his twenties in there.

The guy at the front desk recognized him immediately, he was an old friend from high school, one of the few he kept contact with.

"Hey Ryan. You look terrible" he said, with his surprisingly acute voice. "The usual two hours?"

He nodded.

Having received his card, he went to look for a good spot. A secluded free PC in the corner of the room would do just fine.

He then began taking a look at the list of games available. He was not big into shooting games, but it was one genre that he struggled to play on his old hardware, so he began quietly enjoying himself with a new shooter he barely heard about: Theater Of War.

It was well into the second hour of play, when a voice interrupted him.

"Hey there!" A chirpy feminine voice called.

He looked to his left and he saw a brunette girl staring at him, with a large drink in hand and breath stinking of alcohol. "You seem lonely, want some company?"

Without waiting for a response, she got closer and began grinding her crotch against his shoulder letting him feel the large appendage that was sleeping in her panties, and judging by how drunk she was it would be doing so for the rest of the evening.

Of course it was a futanari. He had nothing against them personally, in fact he could even go so far as to say that he preferred them over other sexes, but them constantly trying to score an ass to plow for the evening did get on his nerves.

Since he came to live in the city, he really began to sympathize with women that hat do endure that kind of behavior from men for thousands of years. Futanari were only two centuries old, and they reached their current numbers, a third of the overall population, only eighty years ago, and yet they profoundly changed how sexual and romantic relationships worked.

On top of that, being the taller, stronger, and most sexually active of the three sexes gave them a natural advantage in the dating scene, which they made extensive use of.

It was not all bad, of course: It was thanks to futanari that society became much more open and accepting of sex, which made things more fun for pretty much everyone. The issue is that he never very much enjoyed casual sex, or sex in general, or relationships for that matter. He sometimes even wondered if he was asexual or aromantic, though he did not feel entirely worthy of those labels.

"I'm good thanks. I was about to go home, I'm working tomorrow." he said to the futanari, giving her a kind smile.

She pouted, and the puffed, but she did stop her grinding. "All right, sorry."

"No problem. Have a good evening!"

He looked at the time he had left: fourteen minutes. He yawned and stood up, then ended his session and left.

___________ ___________ ___________

"Fuck!" Kyla screamed, as a jolt of energy ran through her body. Confused and still half asleep, she sat down on the bed and tried to figure out what happened, but all she could remember were vague images of a cute blonde boy in gym shorts grinding against her dick.

She looked down at her package and saw the special night condom she wore filled up. "God damn it, another wet dream" she said, with a defeated puff. Annoyed, she looked at the clock: six ten in the morning, about thirty minutes before her usual wake-up call.

Her medication did not last quite all the way to the next day, so it was not unusual for her to wake up to her cock deciding it was time to shine. She had special condoms just for that, so that she did not have to wash her sheets every night.

She forced herself out of bed. Stumbling forward into the bathroom, she removed the condom and washed herself, then came back to her room and downed her daily pill.

The drug filled her mouth with that foul bitter chemical taste she was so used to. That little thing was the difference between being a crazed sex maniac and a somewhat normal human being. The Maxwell syndrome could be managed, but most pills left her dazed and depressed, and those that did not, like that one, costed a pretty penny, enough that she still had to live with her parents at twenty-five.

Truth be told, she did not mind that much: Considering the state of the economy and her condition, it was unlikely she would get fully independent for a while still, and she made peace with that. Plus, her parents were not too bad, they left her more than enough space and helped her as much as they could, though they themselves did not fare that much better economically.

As per her usual routine, she had a very abundant breakfast, enough for two or three normal people, then she got out for a quick run, set up breakfast for her parents, and left just as they woke up. At work, she got going with her morning duties, as usual throwing herself into her tasks fully, so that she could keep her brain off the lightly dressed costumers around her.

She finally had a moment to breathe around lunch. There was a small area in the office building where the staff could cook and eat their meals, though many just ordered some food from the local restaurants and had it delivered there. It was not her case, she brought her own from home.

She was a big girl, but she rarely had time for a proper meal during lunch, and there was rarely the space to have one anyway. That day was no different: The place was full, and the only decent spot left was right next to...

It was right next to the guy that crashed into her the day before.

Kyla froze. God, she was such a disaster with men, with cute boys in particular. Wait, he was blonde, was she dreaming of him that morning? Oh that was not a good sign. He had a nice body too: a little on the shorter side, and fairly skinny, her type. Fuck, things were getting really bad.

She took a deep breath, and tried her hardest to sit down naturally, but she completely and utterly failed: Her huge body could not be subtle even if she tried, and with her heart racing and her limbs moving as smoothly as wooden planks, even that small chance was gone.

He turned around and observed her awkwardly sitting down just a couple of feet from him.

"He-hey there" she said with a whisper.

"Oh hi" he answered after a few seconds. "We met yesterday, right?" He added, with a sweet innocent smile and warm hazel eyes.

"Yes, we-we did, sort of" Kyla said, biting her lips, trying to suppress her anxiety with some pain.

"We..." he started talking, but stopped. It took a few good seconds before he spoke again. "We kind of started on a weird note, let's start over: I'm Ryan, nice to meet you..."

Wait, was he not mad? Or scared?

"Kyla" she replied, way too quickly and eagerly, her eyes snapping onto his own, filled with renewed hope.

"Right, nice to meet you, Kyla. I'm the new hire for the office side, but I guess I already told you that" he said, followed by a quick and cute laugh. He was quite handsome when he laughed.