White Dawn

Author's Note and Disclaimer:

All characters are over 18. All activities are consensual. All historical names, events, and places are coincidences of choice and were chosen randomly.

There is no MM, no anal, no cum swallowing, and no oral. It's vanilla, but for the presence of a futa. This story deals with aspects of conflict occurring between nation-states in a time of war. Please consider if this makes you uncomfortable or not. The story is entirely fiction in an alternate timeline presented for entertainment only.

It is my first story, offered with as much humility as possible.

**********

How could a country be at war without tanks, planes, soldiers, or weapons being visible? The question seemed reasonable to Annolita Lebedev. Borris told her it was a war, but there was no evidence. He called it the Cold War; he said she would help end it. It was an absurd notion to her, ending a war with no symptoms.

Borris was the closest thing to a Father Annolita had; she was a test tube baby. He worked for a branch of the KGB whose goal was to end the Cold War by destroying America. Each month, Borris took her to a sprawling complex where she received medications and tests, both physical and mental.

Today's trip with Borris would be the last. Men wearing dark suits waited inside the building. It saddened Borris to know he would abandon Annolita to fulfill her purpose; she was a biological weapon, a laboratory manifestation of Soviet military supremacy destined to end Capitalist corruption.

"Why must I go? I do not want to leave," the 20-year-old woman demanded, tears welling in her eyes.

There is a Russian saying: 'As if behind a stone wall', it summarized all Borris knew about processing emotion. Though tears streamed inside him, with a stone face he handed Annolita to the men in dark suits.

"Go, my little Doche'," he said, then walked away.

All that Annolita knew was shattered in an instant.

*

The trip to America by boat took two weeks. Annolita would stay with a family in Missouri: Sasha, a humble mechanic, and his wife Kareen. They were foreign operatives. She would live in a particular town, and attend a specific school. None of these were chance; she was on a collision course with a boy named John Miller.

It shocked Annolita when Kareen sat with her and explained the birds and bees, or in her case the bird-bees. Annolita had a penis. Growing up isolated within the walls of the organization that created her, she didn't realize this was unusual.

"You mean other girls do not have a penis?" Annolita asked. Her English was flawless, but her Russian accent was thick -- and sexy, to those who might notice such things.

Kareen explained how Annolita's sexuality was different, how she was a late bloomer. Her secondary sexual characteristics were all present but one: her period. Annolita would never have a normal period, nor would she ejaculate from her girlpenis, not in the sense anyone heretofore could comprehend.

Among the edits applied to her genome was one from a species of cricket, the Mormon cricket, that transfers up to 27% of its weight during mating in a sperm package. That is the equivalent of 54 pounds of ejaculate from a 200 pound human. She would soon acquire her remaining secondary sexual characteristic, not a menstrual cycle, but the production of girlcum, the delivery mechanism of the bioweapon that was her raison d'etre. Kareen cautioned Annolita that she should keep herself drained at least twice a day.

Annolita buried a tearing face in her hands. It was all too much at once, losing Borris, alone in a foreign country, and the news she was a freak with a physical handicap requiring her to drain herself.

"Why would anyone produce girlcum like that? What would the point be?" she said, trying to see sense in this terrible news.

"I am so sorry Annolita, I cannot answer all your questions. Sasha will when the time is right."

"I hate my country and I hate both of you!" Annolita screamed.

*

Days came and went while Annolita waited for school to start, boredom the more formidable enemy than loneliness. Left alone in the maintenance bay of the garage, her boredom reached its apogee.

Sasha was changing the hydraulic fluid in the car lifts. Annolita decided to put her otherwise useless ejaculations to a test. She knew basic physics, the hydraulic fluid in the lift had three properties: it didn't compress, it was thick enough to not leak past seals, and it contained lubricating properties. Her girlcum should meet all those criteria she thought, mischievously smiling to herself. It was thick, didn't compress, and was quite slippery.

She backed Sasha's 4x4 over the lift and using silicon tape attached her girlpenis to the disconnected hose. It was a smooth appendage, feminine in appearance though not lacking in any qualitative aspect of function or strength. She took several laps with the tape to be certain there was a good seal.

Within Annolita's genetically engineered anatomy was an organ responsible for high volume emissions. Strong as the encasing smooth muscle around this organ is, it has limits. This muscular central chamber was surrounded by smaller organs, not unlike male testicles. They harvested nutrients from her bloodstream, produced the volume of her bioweapon girlcum, and pumped it into the central chamber. When her body realizes it can't evacuate that chamber it leaves the ventricle valves from the smaller girlcum-producing organs open. They cannot move much fluid, but their pumping force is multiplied. It's similar to using a lower gear in a multi-speed bicycle, the final speed is reduced, but the rider can scale bigger hills.

When her orgasm hit there was an uncomfortable buildup of pressure, not the release of tension she was accustomed to. Slowly, she lifted the 4x4 up until the lift was at full height, the volume of girlcum in her one orgasm being just about perfect.

Surprised, and somewhat impressed with herself, she wondered what would happen if she erupted another load into the device. Would it destroy the seals somewhere? Sasha would not be happy, so she untaped herself and watched in dismay as a fountain of hydraulic fluid, mixed with her white girlcum, drained from the lift. She had to clean up, but it wasn't the first time she mopped up a mess of her girlcum; it was a miserable daily routine for her. At least she would be comfortable for a while. Her little stunt would not go undiscovered, however.

*

"Are you enjoying your borscht?" Sasha asked Annolita, who was eating her 5th bowl. She needed extra food to maintain her unique metabolism.

"I'm not surprised you are so hungry. I found out what you did in the Garage today," he continued.

Annolita's face turned red with shame. "I am sorry Sasha, I was bored. This miserable condition I have, this stupid girlpenis...," she trailed off.

"Yes, it is understandable. Perhaps if you knew more about your purpose, it would ease your burden.

Have you wondered how the Americans removed mosquitoes around the Lake here?

Well, I will tell you:

They breed sterile female mosquitoes and release them. The males fuck and fuck and fuck them, until they are drained of their reproductive sperm, convinced they've sired many new mosquito larvae, but instead there is nothing. With the males exhausted of their virility, even fertile females find themselves unable to breed."

"That... That's terrible," Annolita said, "So cruel. Why are you telling me this, am I this mosquito?"

"You are much more Annolita. Men or women who come into contact with your girlcum, their proteins are altered making them sterile. It is your destiny to end the Cold War by rendering the Capitalists infertile so their corruption cannot spread. You will have the thanks of Mother Russia," Sasha said, filled with pride for his part in this glorious plan.

"What Borris told me is true then. He said I would end this strange war one day. I have been nothing more than a terrible weapon my whole life?"

"It is true Annolita, and I am sorry for what you endure, but it is your great responsibility that will define you now. We do not pick our destiny, nor can we escape it," Kareen said.

Annolita quaked with rage, it filled her then subsided as she accepted her fate, a very Russian thing to do. She was a freak. There was no chance for a normal life, no chance of falling in love with a boy, no chance of having a family. Who would accept her?

"Even if I had sex with every boy in this town, sterilized them into impotent donkey dicks, that will not defeat America. I do not understand how I can make a difference?"

"You make errors of judgment Annolita. The first, that you are alone, the second, this:" Sasha said, pulling a Kodak photo from a brown folder. The photo pictured a 20-year-old boy, a very American boy, smiling next to a white car.

"Such blue eyes, he is an American boy, da?"

"One of many that go to school here. Nearly every family works at the Monsanto factory. You must date one of their sons, and find a way to gain entry into the factory. The girlcum of yours is more useful than pranks like lifting cars, within it are genetic assassins.

Ejaculating into the fertilizer concentrate shipped from Monsanto will make it a weapon of mass sterilization. This plant supplies every farmland in their so-called Bread Basket, the heart of their grain production. Once poisoned, their crops will only create food that destroys human fertility. Even the soil itself will become toxic. Every corn on the cob at their stupid Fourth of July parties, every sweetened grain cereal fed to children brainwashed by Saturday morning consumerism cartoons, all of it, it will be their slow death.

In only one generation America will find itself feeble and dying, a geriatric country, incapable of defending itself against our armies."

*

It wasn't the first time Annolita was late for school, it was just the worst time. First, she forgot to wear her special girlpenis condom, insurance should accidents occur. Being surrounded by cute American boys could cause unwanted emissions. Second, she was late, which meant no time for her morning draining, leaving her full of bioweapon girlcum to the point of extreme discomfort.

When third period bell rang Annolita dashed to the bathroom. A quick session in the stall thinking of boys from the football team would put everything right again. The worst to happen may be a complaint from the Janitor about unclogging a toilet, some were better than others at dealing with her copious quantity of fluid. Her girlcum was so thick, slippery, and heavy that the weight of it, on occasion, actually unclogged toilets -- like commercial drain cleaner.

Something wasn't right though. Oh no! A yellow cone blocked the entrance to the bathroom. Cynthia, a girl she hardly knew, was leaving.

"Is... Is the bathroom closed Cynthia?" Annolita said, trying to hide her desperation.

"Ya, sorry. I guess they're putting in new trips... or traps, or I dunno, Ask the plumber."

This was bad, really bad. Annolita started to sprint for the other bathroom but caught glimpse of the clock: only 2 minutes left. There was no way she would make it. The next period was Ms. Kline; if she wasn't on time she would fail lab. What to do? There was one option, it would be painful but was the only choice.

In the hallway with its door ajar was a broom closet. Annolita stepped in. She reached down, gripped with all her might, and pinched the base of her impatient girlpenis like a garden hose. She clenched her pelvic muscle with a force that would crack a billiard ball.

This survival instinct was built into her biology. It would be unthinkable for the weapon, her girlcum, to be wasted during an attack. If she were surprised or confronted during an orgasm she could clench hard, and the girlcum would be redirected into her breasts which contained secondary holding areas. Oh, it would have to be drained later, and it had the unfortunate effect of making Annolita's big breasts even bigger, but it had to be done.

She moaned as the emission hit, the feeling of it being redirected like the sensation of stifling a sneeze. Earlier, she thought maybe she would be adventurous and talk to some boys in study hall, but now she looked ridiculous, her boobs spilling over her J cup bra like a poor girl whose parents purchased second-hand bras. She wiped a tear from her eye and pulled her jacket over, trying to cover the ridiculous affair. It was the worst day ever.

As a final insult, Annolita's bus home was rerouted. Instead of bus 15, she would be on bus 32. She could have heard this when it was announced over the PA system, except she was tucked in a closet dealing with an earlier disaster. When she finished running the semicircle driveway where the buses were stationed, twice, she realized her bus wasn't there. They were all gone and she was on none of them.

Arriving from a late session in shop class, in the front parking lot, stood John Miller. He was puzzled watching the new girl sprinting back and forth. John Miller was the same boy Annolita saw in the Kodak photo Sasha showed her; as the Russians say, you cannot escape your destiny, even on a horse.

"It looks like you missed your Bus Annolita," he yelled across the sidewalk. She sauntered over, her eyes low, preemptively embarrassed for her thick accent.

"It seems so. You know my name?" she said.

"Of course, you're the new girl. Easy to remember the new girl. You're the one that's probably having a hard time remembering all the new names and faces. I'm John. John Miller."

"Hi John."

John opened the door to a rusty old pickup truck apologetically. Annolita's thick hair brushed his face as she spun herself around the door.

"I hope it's not too embarrassing to ride in. I have a pretty cool car, it's just not running right now."

Annolita sat, apprehensively holding the lapels of her Jacket close around her, trying to hide her overinflated boobs.

"You're nice enough to give me a ride home, I'm not going to be a cunt about the condition of your truck," she said. She learned cunt the first weeks of school; it seemed the right word to use here. John laughed, closing her door with a hollow clunk. It pleased Annolita that her use of an American cuss word landed correctly.

They drove a country road with the windows down while Annolita ran her hand in the rushing wind like an airplane wing. It felt exciting to her, riding in a truck, with a boy, in America. Was this what she was sent to destroy?

"Since you live near my friend Ed, and I have to drop a car part off for him -- would you mind if I stopped at my place to grab it?"

"Of courrse, no prroblem," Annolita said, her voice rolling the Rs unintentionally from her accent and her nervousness. John's ears tingled, he'd never heard a voice like hers before.

On jack stands in the grass adjacent to the driveway of John's house was a pearl white 1969 Chevelle with a greasy blanket underneath, and a rag carelessly wrapped around the radio antenna mast.

"That's Kassy, my car. I could give you a ride in her when I get the transmission back in," John said.

"You name your car. Is this American's thing?"

"I don't know. It's probably a guy thing."

"Maybe I help you put your transmission in?"

"Ya? You know stuff about cars?" John asked.

"My Father is a mechanic," Annolita said. It hurt to call Sasha her Father, but it was easier than answering questions about her past she didn't know.

John ran into the garage, returning with a greasy cardboard box he set behind the bench seat.

"All set," he said, the truck's reverse gear grinding before synchronization as he backed up.

"You can pull up to our house, it's ok," said Annolita. Sasha and Kareen's home was selected to be unremarkable in every way. The perfect home for a pair of foreign operatives.

The 6'2, dark-haired, blue-eyed foreign girl was unlike anyone John had met. He wanted to ask Annolita out and this was his chance. The collateral reputation damage from rejection seemed limited, unlike asking, for example, Carolyn Wise out. The latter would wreck his dating opportunities across the entire town.

"Were you serious about helping me put my transmission in? Could I take you for a ride when I do?" he said, his stomach turning into knots.

"Is this what you call a date in America?" Annolita said.

John's face turned red. "Yes. I guess so."

"Does your Father work at the Monsanto factory?"

"Ya, he does, why?"

"No particular reason. I notice many people work there.

Yes, John Miller, I will go on a date with you," Annolita said, enunciating the word date as if it alone was a victory.

"Awesome. Bring a change of work-on-car clothes to school Friday, and I'll give you a ride home," John said, a smile beaming from his handsome face.

"Thank you for the ride home, John."

"Anytime," he said, slotting reverse in the old farm truck's column shift.

Annolita accomplished the first part of her mission. She had a date.

*

Emboldened with the vigor of purpose, Annolita finished a perfect school week. There were no late mornings or closed bathrooms; the entire week submitted to her ruthless scheduling. She packed not one, but two changes of clothes. One to work on John's car, the other for later, something different.

John picked her up from the front parking lot and drove to his house.

"What time do you have to be home?" he asked.

"No particular time, John," she said.

"Must be nice to have chill parents. I mean, around here, a girl, her parents... they would have a fit if she wasn't home by 10, Midnight at the latest."

"Why should they worry for me? I can take care of myself," she said.

John contemplated Annolita. She was a big girl, not in an unattractive way. He'd only seen her clothed in her omnipresent jacket. Everything seemed in proportion, she was curvy and broad, with little detail beyond that. She probably could take care of herself quite well he mused.

"It's a little illegal, but if you want to do something crazy, my friends and I are going to the observatory to do a dead-engine race tonight.

It's up Crow Canyon, part of the military sky watch post. We're not supposed to be there, but the canyon road is the best around. You have to get out by 9pm because the MPs come around and seal the gates."

"What is this dead engine race... John Miller?"

Even when she seemed ready to end a sentence she might suffix his full name randomly. To John, it made the conversation feel formal, like something about her would forever be at arm's length. For Annolita, it was her attempt at partitioning the horrible things she was going to do from her desire to be normal. She couldn't make up her mind to invest feelings or be a monster.

"We go up the backside of the mountain, we hang out for a bit, then we put our cars in neutral and coast down the mountain, no engines.

Whoever uses their brakes the least and has the best handling car wins, extra weight helps, and a passenger is always a plus. Heck, one time Billy took 4 people up and almost won," John said.

Being mixed up with authorities, military or otherwise, was not top of Annolita's list, but the risk was unavoidable for her. If it wasn't for this adventure, then it would be when she attempted to gain entry, and sabotage, the Monsanto factory. She made her decision. This young man wanted to do something exciting; it might be the only exciting thing she did, there was no way she could say no.

Earlier in the week, John did the difficult work of repairing his car. He was intrigued this unusual girl offered to work on a car, so he left some light work to see if she was for real. This was the stuff porn movies were made of; what guy didn't want a hot girl that worked on cars?

Replacing the cross member and driveshaft, then filling the transmission was all that remained. Annolita was for real, she knew clockwise from counterclockwise when tightening a bolt. The job went well, except for a small detail that would bite them later. John never tightened the drain plug in the transmission pan. Some might say he was distracted.