Anal Tonight - And More

I decided not to release him - not immediately, anyway. I had been afraid of Mark for so long, it felt good to be the one in control for once. That and the sight of his puckered rosebud, clenching and relaxing, dribbling cum, was just so wonderfully slutty. My new-grown cock, proud of its conquest, throbbed impatiently as I replayed in my mind the moment I breached that tight entrance, popping my husband's anal cherry and stretching him wide with my thick cock.

To have a cock was weird. To use it on my husband was weirder - but also deeply satisfying. Certainly I had achieved satisfaction, buried deep in that sweet rear passage, though I was not yet sated. I brushed my long shaft teasingly as I smirked down at him. "You liked that, dear, didn't you?"

Mark shook his head, but the evidence suggested otherwise. I scooped up some of the cum from his belly and licked it from my fingertips. "So much cum," I murmured, "and it was your second of the night. Looks like you're ready for a third..."

"No, Barb, please," he begged, but scarcely put up any resistance as I thrust into him again, his ass slick now with my cum from before and easier to penetrate. His whimpered denial mutated into a moan of lust, and I worked his hard cock with one hand as I built up steam, pistoning into him with determination.

"Tell me you love this," I growled.

"I do," he whispered. "I do."

Delightful though this surrender was, I wanted more from him. Easing out of him, I straddled him and took him inside me instead. He lacked the girth to truly satisfy me, but as I rode him cowgirl-style I was free to massage my enlarged breasts and play with my engorged and super-sensitive nipples.

Mark pounded his cock into me with a vigour that I welcomed, each impact sending a pulse of pleasure through me. I felt so powerful in my new body, my futa form combining voluptuous femininity with a man's strength and virility. I loved having a cock. I loved the way it slapped against his belly repeatedly as I rode him. I loved the way my breasts were big enough that I could comfortably suck on my own nipples.

And I was close. Very close. With one hand holding my cock, the other reaching round to stroke my clit, I brought myself to a second climax, not quite as intense as the first but glorious for the view of cum streaming from my cock, the thick white cream striping across my husband's face and chest. I had no balls, so where exactly it came from I had no idea, but I came and came, ignoring Mark's feeble protests.

I relaxed with him still hard and trapped within me, and laughed. So many times I had let him come on my face and breasts - to be honest, I had sometimes enjoyed it - but never in such quantity. Licking his neck and cheeks clean, I fed my cum to him kiss by kiss, feeling him surrender to me even as he resumed his urgent thrusting. "Slut," I whispered between kisses. "Whore."

With a strangled cry he finished at last, his third orgasm of the evening but bountiful indeed. I could feel his cum erupting into me with unfamiliar strength, and not just a few spurts but a dozen, more, filling me. "You're changing already," I said, and he nodded weakly.

Standing with difficulty, I turned and squatted over his face, and did my best to aim the mess of fluids dripping from my cunt into his open mouth.

*

Twenty years had passed since the first outbreak of the futa virus. Some believed it to be an experiment gone wrong. Some believed it was an ancient curse, released from the melting ice caps. Some believed it was an alien invader, wreaking havoc on the Earth.

No one was immune. Condoms and spermicides - if used, and they seldom were - had little benefit. If you fucked a futa, you became a futa. The transformation was swift, with an immediate boost to the libido and increased virility; the physical changes taking mere hours to complete.

It affected people differently. Some women developed dainty cocks, and some grew monstrous appendages. Some found themselves with beach-ball breasts, or with nipples like shotgun shells. My own additions were relatively modest, compared to what could have been.

But it wasn't only women who were vulnerable. "Poor Mark," I said. "How many times have you said you'd rather die than fuck a futa." His erection had subsided at last, but the limp flesh twitched restlessly. Beneath it his balls had swollen to the size of peaches. His nipples had swollen too, and there was a suggestion of breasts forming, reshaping his muscular chest.

"Instead, you took it like the slut you are. You barely struggled. Anyone would think you wanted to be a futa."

Mark, whose flush of embarrassment had deepened as I spoke, burst suddenly into tears. "But I don't," he wailed. "I really don't!"

I understood. That morning, I had given myself nervously to Veronique. I had been terrified of what I was choosing to do, terrified of what my husband would do to me for this betrayal, terrified of how I might change, but as Veronique's slender cock had erupted within me, flooding my vagina with her futa cum, my body had surrendered to her utterly. I'd been like an animal in heat, insisting she take me again, this time from behind, and this time harder, harder, always harder, until a second helping of her cum was running down my thighs past her tireless cock. I'd taken her in my mouth, licking her clean, sucking that exquisite flesh, taken it into my throat as she fucked my mouth and I loved every moment of it...

I sucked on Mark's nipples, making him whine in protest. His cock, disappointingly, hadn't changed at all. It was still too small for my liking - but it was hard again, and I stroked it teasingly. "Hmm, back in a minute."

I ran downstairs to the kitchen and back, bringing a crystal tumbler. "Let's see how much you can make." I held the receptacle ready with one hand and worked his cock with the other, with all the subtlety of a weary crack whore. Despite his whimpered complaints, he didn't last long. Spurt after spurt of thick, creamy cum splashed into the glass from the pulsing member, until it was nearly half-full.

"Not bad," I said. "Usually it's only a teaspoon or two." I took a sip, and murmured my appreciation. "Tastes better now, too." I had been thinking to make Mark drink his own cum, but changed my mind and drank it myself. There was a profoundly erotic satisfaction in feeling so much thick, warm cum making its way to my belly.

My own cock was throbbing with fresh urgency. "Your turn," I said cheerfully, and pushed the tip between his lips. "Suck it, you little cumslut," I said.

The handcuffs made it an awkward position, but he sucked on the head greedily as I stroked the shaft. I had fucked my husband's ass, and now I was fucking his mouth. I didn't hurry it. There was too much enjoyment in seeing his lips stretched by my thick shaft, and feeling his throat working as he struggled to swallow his saliva and my precum.

But as I neared my end, my hips rebelled, trying to thrust deeper. He choked as I unleashed within his mouth, cum spurting messily out through his nostrils. I held him mercilessly in position, forcing him to swallow as much as he could, though much escaped the corners of his mouth and ran down his cheeks.

*

Twenty years since the first outbreak. The authorities had been slow to react. It was a contagion that spread in secret, since few of its victims rushed to hospital. Had it been only women who transformed, the response might have been more muted - the idea of women with cocks seduced as much as horrified - but that men should be feminised? That was unacceptable.

And worse, just as the female futa tended to be more aggressive, more dominant, than her human counterpart, so the male futa tended to be more passive, more submissive. I could sense it in Mark. As humans, he had controlled me and made me feel powerless. As futas... the tables were turned. He was mine now to use. A horny not-so-little slut whose ass and mouth I'd filled with cum, and no doubt would again.

They'd hated us. They'd hunted us. Anyone even suspected of being a futa had been rounded up and imprisoned, or worse. There were still camps where futas lived in horrendous conditions, malnourished and sick, yet proud and endlessly virile. That was what awaited Mark and I if our new status became public. I, at least, could still pass as my former self. Mark's masculine features and increasingly feminine curves, on the other hand, would be an instant giveaway. "Don't worry, my love," I said. "I'll look after you."

With his wrists still tied to the bed, his efforts to wipe the cum from his face had had limited success. It coated his cheeks, his belly and his budding breasts, and continued to leak from his ass. But there was one more place I wanted to see it. "Time to make a real woman of you, Mark."

"Oh no, Barb, please no!"

I hadn't listened before, and I had no intention of listening this time. "Oh yes, Mark, yes indeed!" Guiding my cock to the delicate flower that had not been there an hour before, I pressed between those petals, meeting an immediate resistance. "Relax, my love. The pain will pass swiftly."

Mark cried out as I breached his virgin cunt, my thick cock tearing his hymen. I rested for a minute, the head of my invading cock cradled by the tight warmth of his sweet vagina. The rising and falling of his breasts as he gasped for breath was mesmerising, and I bent to suckle on his engorged nipples. But I was soon thrusting deeper, determined to bury the full length of my shaft within him.

But just as his cock lacked girth, his cunt lacked depth. It accommodated barely half my own superior member. In that moment, I knew he would never be enough for me. I knew I would never be truly satisfied until I found a lover with truly magnificent cock, and another - or the same - with a sweet, encompassing cunt. Maybe I'd even let Mark lick my lover's cum from my ravished pussy.

Before I fucked his ass. He did at least have an excellent ass.

Short though his vagina was, it was long enough, and Mark was soon thrusting up to meet me, despite the pained whimpers each time I thrust too hard, too deep. His cock pressed up against my belly, and my breasts teased his nipples, as we settled into a good, long, rhythmic fuck. It felt so good, so right, and for the first time in years I could almost forgive him his mistreatment of me.

But only almost. Not enough that I wouldn't return the favour by making him my own personal, house-husband whore. It was almost a pity that he'd probably enjoy it.

He was close. I could tell. "Come for me, you cum-loving whore," I growled, thrusting harder and faster than ever.

He cried out loudly as his cock erupted between us. I could feel his cum splashing against my breasts, seemingly forever as he convulsed beneath me, his vagina contracting fiercely as I attempted to continue fucking him. "Fuck," he whispered, clearly in a state of blissful exhaustion. "Fuck..."

I too was close, helped along by Mark's powerful orgasm. Every muscle in my body seemed to contract painfully as I neared the final precipice, until with one last determined thrust I found that exquisite release. Tremors rocked my body as waves of pleasure coursed through my flesh, and as cum burst from my triumphant cock, filling Mark's new-grown cunt and squeezing out about my pulsing shaft.

I collapsed on top of him, still buried within him, still convulsing in the long, lingering aftermath of that tremendous climax. At last I felt content. Sated, even. I had claimed my whore thoroughly.