The Futa Pill: You Race Away from Cassie (Patreon)

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You race out of the bathroom stall and flee from Cassiein shame over what's happened.You've lost all control over yourself. You burst through the bathroom door and dart into the break room, struggling with your emotions. You are before the coffee pot, on the verge of tears, your back to the rest of the office.

What is wrong with you? You're shocked you could have forced your friend like that. You stare down at your futa-dick tenting the front of your skirt. It's poisoned you with all these lusts and desires. They utterly took you over.

It's ruined your friendship with Cassie.

You can't help but tremble there. You're shoulders shake. Tears are beading in your eyes. You're on the verge of crying. You can feel it building into the back of your throat. Your shoulders shake. You squeeze your eye shut.

A tear trickles down your cheek.

You're such a terrible person. Cassie's your friend. You grab your futa-dick. It wants to keep doing things. Keep fucking. The shame has utterly consumed you. Your shoulders hunch in. You don't know how long you stand there, trembling, crying, feeling terrible about yourself.

“I see you're finally getting me that coffee,” the once voice you didn't want to hear purrs behind you.

Paris Fucking Richardson.

You stiffen. A loud sniffle burst from your throat. “Go away,” you croak. “Not now.”

“Are you crying?” Paris asks with a sneer. “Is having to get me coffee that bad. God, you're just so pathetic.”

She grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You don't want to look at her face. Tears spill down your cheeks. She lets out such a disgusted sigh. The humiliation of your rival catching you breaking down is spilling through you.

“It's no fun if you cry,” she mutters. “You know that?”

“What?” you mutter, lifting your gaze to stare up in her eyes.

“God, just stops it,” she says and grabs a tissue from a box on the counter. She thrusts it at you. “Have some self-respect. Jeez.”

You take it and dab at your eyes, a little taken aback.

“Now what dumb thing has you crying? It can't really be that I won? Come on, this is just the start.”

You shake your head and then, in a fit of self-pity, you whine, “I messed everything up with Cassie because of this stupid cock.”

“Stupid... cock?” She furrows her brow. “Is this over a man? Are you and blondie squabbling over some guy.”

“No! This!” You grab your skirt and haul it up. Paris blinks and then gasps as she sees the tip of your futa-cock thrusting out of the top of your light-blue panties.

“How do you have that?” Paris asks. “It's monstrous.”

“Doesn't matter,” you mutter. “I hate it. This thing is dumb. It ruined everything.”

“This is dumb?” Paris grabs your cock, squeezing the half thrusting out of your panties. You gasp at how warm her hands feel. “Oh, god, you can't possibly think this is dumb. This cock is amazing. Fantastic.”

She strokes up and down you, teasing you, massaging you. Pleasure spills through you while you gape in shock at her. Her hand does feel amazing caressing you. She's working up and down your clit-dick. The pleasure is stunning. Outstanding. You groan and whimper, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Mmm, yes, yes, that's just amazing,” she coos. “Just fantastic. Your cock feels so impressive. How can you think this is dumb.”

“It is!” you hiss stubbornly.

“Have you used it?”

You blush, remembering how you did. “And it was terrible.”

Paris arches her eyebrow. “I want you to use it. I want you to try it out on a woman. On someone with a pussy.”

“What?”

“Come on,” she says, looking around. “Let's go to my office. I want you to slide this girl-dick it into me. I want you to fuck me with it and then see if it's stupid.” She squeezed it. “I think you're going to find out it's not.”

You can't believe how nice Paris is being to you. It's so surreal, like this futa-cock you've grown has utterly thrown the universe out of alignment. Nothing fits any longer. But you can't resist her as she tugs you along through the office.

You swallow, skirting around the cubicles, hoping no one sees that she's gripping your futa-dick. Her hand feels amazing on you. You're getting hotter and hotter with every second. You wipe at your cheeks, dabbing away the tears.

You reach Paris's new office and slip inside. You swallow, wondering if she's right. If your futa-dick really is amazing.

You're about to make love to your rival.

Continue on to learning how amazing your futa-cock is with Paris!