The Futa Pill: You Continue on to Deandra's Lab (Patreon)

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You're panting, your dick hard and throbbing in your skirt as you face Dr. Isabella Murphy. She's the scientist working on the slut pill (as it's nicknamed) with your rival in the company, Paris. Remembering that redhead cunt makes you groan, reminding you that she's now your boss.

Of course, you have bigger problems than that as your dick throbs in your panties. “Sorry, I have to see Deandra right away.”

“You sure?” asks Dr. Isabella, her eyes flicking down your body. You blush as you realize she sees your bulge.

“Pretty sure,” you say and dart around her. You need to get to Deandra and figure this out before you do something crazy. Your encounter with Miranda on the elevator ride down to this floor is proof that you're losing your self-control.

“You know she engineered that,” says Dr. Isabella, her heels clicking along with yours down the hallway. 

“What?” you ask, your eyes focused on Deandra's lab at the end of the hallway. 

“Futas. She did that to you. Made that cock grow you have stuffed in your skirt.”

Your step almost falters for a moment, but then you keep walking. “I'm going to talk to Deandra about that. It's none of your concern.”

“Okay. Just ask her about the side-effects of being a futa. They're bad.”

You shudder at that, glancing down at your futa-dick. What did that mean? Bad? You shiver and reach the door. You burst into the stainless steel lab of Dr. Deandra Martins. Everything gleams in the rooms from the large lab table in the center of the room to the counters that lined it, many set with various scientific equipment like microscopes and centrifuges and things you don't even know how to describe. One corner of the room holds a safety shower in case of accidents.

Deandra, a Black woman, is setting down a brown paper lunch bag on the central table when she blinks at you. Her silver nose ring glints as she pushes up her glasses. She has short hair, buzzed into a fade on the left side. She looks young and hip, nothing like a scientist especially with the skinny jeans and crimson belly shirt she's wearing beneath her open lab coat.

“Oh, hey,” she says. “How did the meaning with Ms. Kato go?”

“Never mind that,” you say as you dart forward. “I took the pill and—”

She gasps in delight and shoots her gaze down to your skirt. “It worked!”

“Yes, it worked!” you hiss as you stop before her.

“Good, good, we have so many tests to run!” She whirls around. “Where is my clipboard? And my calipers? Ooh, we have to measure you.”

“Hold on!” you say, grabbing her arm and yanking her up short. “I ran into Dr. Isabella. She says there are side effects.”

Deandra face scrunches up and annoyance flashes across her features. “No there's not.”

“Then why would she say that?” you demand. “You did this, right? Made this pill so it would turn my clit into a dick.”

“To make you into a futanari,” she says, wrenching her arm from your grasp. “Or futa for short. Hence the nickname for the pill.”

“I thought that was just an abbreviation for the chemicals.” 

Deandra waves her fingers at you as she rushes to a cabinet. “I fudged the chemical name so I could call it that. Dr. Isabella did the same with her little concoction.”

“Well, what about these side-effects? Is it going to give me like cancer or something?”

“It's harmless.” Deandra opens the cabinet and pulls out an amber pill container. 

“How do you know that? She said the side effects are nasty.”

“I'll prove it.” Deandra unscrews the white cap and spills out a pink pill into her hand and pops into her mouth. You swallow it and lets out a groan. “Ooh, that was big.” She coughs and pats her chest. “See, if it was dangerous, I wouldn't take it and...” She glances down. “Damn, I'm starting to feel the effects already.”

She unsnaps her jeans, the zipper rasping. She shoves them down along with the bright-blue panties she's wearing, exposing a trimmed, black bush. Her dark-brown fingers slide through her hairs as she shudders.

“It's growing already,” she moans, glancing at you. “Did it grow this fast for you?”

“I guess,” you mutter, frowning.

She grins in delight as her new clit-dick sprouted out of her bush. You shiver, your own girl-cock throbbing as you watch hers blossoming thicker and longer. It twitches before her, the pink fading to the dark hue of her skin. Her hand wraps around it. She strokes herself, whimpering in delight.

“I keep growing bigger,” she moans in awe. “This is all my dreams come true.”

“Then why haven't you taken it yourself before now?” you demand. 

“Well, because it wasn't approved for human trials,” she answers. A wicked shudder runs through her body as she massages her spongy crown, precum leaking out of the tip. It appears to be its full girth, near the same size as yours. “It would be unethical to do that.”

“You just did it!” you point out.

“You did it first,” she says. A shiver runs through her. “Too late now. Cat's out of the bottle.”

You shudder as you stare at her stroking her dick. It is a beautiful cock. If there are any side-effects, she wouldn't have taken it. Your tongue flicks across your lips. You want to just fall to your knees and suck on her cock.

But your dick's also throbbing. Wouldn't it feel amazing to have your cock sucked on by her? You shudder, both desires surging through you. Should you suck on her dick, or have her blow your new cock?

What do you choose?

Do you suck on Deandra's new girl-dick?  

Do you ask Deandra to suck on your girl-dick?