Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Note: "Futa" is short for Futanari, which is explained heirin.  If you
aren't familiar with the term, don't bother looking it up, just read, it's
better that way.
   Hiroshimaru (Trans, Futa, Herm, Ds, Pros, FemD, Anal...)
   I stood humbly by the examination chair, until Toshisan came in.  He
silently helped me out of my robe, onto the seat, and my feet into the
sturrups.  He looked me over, glasses low on his nose.  His fingers were
bare, dry between my legs.  Spreading my lips, he lifted my Chinko with his
thumb.
   He nodded, once, and picked up a jar.  Filled with the thick paste, he
rubbed it onto his fingers, and touched me again.  Warm, and slick, he
pushed the skin back, pinched out my Kintama, and my hips jerked, slipped
out of his thumb, and finger.  I could feel pressure, getting harder with
each heartbeat.
   He pushed his glasses up with his clean hand, sat down, and leaned in
close for the treatment.  He coated my hard poku jin, rubbing it in until
the warm cream disappeared into my skin.  Then he stood up, his pants open,
and leaned in, between my legs.  I could feel him push in, fill me, two of
mine, or bigger.
   As always, he got only a few strokes before he pushed all the way, his
hairless crotch against me, grunted with his face tight.  His lids
wrinkled, a ^ in the top of his nose, cheeks tight against the bones, lips
gone, bitten between his teeth.  He gasped for breath, opened his eyes,
going soft in me.
   Fixing up his pants, he left, but I was still horny, so I reached down
to touch myself.  Still slick with medicine, I pulled at my Chinko with two
fingers, and my thumb, spread my lips, and fucked two fingers in.  I
burned, gasped as fast as I could, my chichi felt like they'd pop right off
my chest, and I fell into bliss, twitching against my hands.
   I caught my breath, wiped my hand on my leg, and took a shower.  No
changes yet, but they were coming every day, making me more whole.
   Hiroshimaru (Ht Herm, Pros)
   "Arigato," he smiled, fixed his pants, and bowed on his way out.  Just a
curt nod of the body by the waist, he made no mistake in pointing out my
class in relation to his.
   I wiped my eyes, sniffed, checked my makeup.  Noone was searching me, so
I logged off, pulled on a robe, and went down to the club.  Men all over,
and some women, even a foreign one, her eyes followed me as I walked by.  I
went to the bar, and got some food, hungry.  Glancing over, she was still
watching me, not staring, but she'd crossed her legs the other way,
   I took the plate, and sticks over to her.  She was beautiful, porcelain
white all over, the way makeup couldn't do, and her hair was light rosy
red, like pink, but a natural color.  She looked up at me, one eye was
blue, the other was green.  Her eyes had slightly oriental shape, corners
that looked Korean, or maybe Mongolian, and a deep fold in each lid under
the graceful arch of her brows.
   "Koni Chiwa," I bowed, and set down my food, "Would you like some
company?"
   "Hei," she nodded, or bowed, the short greeting nod, "Yes, please sit
down."
   She smiled, perfect full lips, deep red.  I couldn't be sure it was
makeup, and not the color of her skin, like the flush of her high round
cheeks.  She might have had it stained, or even tattooed, like some of the
others, but didn't look like a prostitute.  "I am Genevive," her hand was
long, and thin, but not bony, soft, and smooth.
   "Hiroshimaru." I bowed.
   She laughed, "Why do they call you that?"
   "It means 'around Hiroshima'," she nodded, understanding Japanese, "But
I'm from Nagasake'."
   "I was told it means Radiation Mutant." she corrected, gently.
   "Hei," I lowered my eyes, "That's why they call me that."
   "Can you dance for me?" she let go of my hand, which let me know she had
been holding it all this time.  I stood up, bending, turning away from her
to let the silky robe slide over my bottom.  I twisted my hips, turning on
my feet to her, and let my robe fold open a little, flash a bit of chest.
   She looked at me, again, not staring, but interested, no expression on
her face.  I let it fall open more, put my foot up between her legs.  The
smooth fabric slashed across my thigh, parting to the sides.  "You can
touch, me" I told her, "If you like."
   She picked up my sticks, a piece of food, and my heart sank.  You
couldn't hear my stomach over the music, but she held it up to me.  I let
the belt slip free as I bent to eat it.  One of the Futaneta, some long
rice with a butterfly of sashimi, and a fold of pink ginger, it was formed
in the shape of a Manko, a "Pussy", but with a large spear of pepper squash
shaped like a Chinko.
   I licked it before I ate it, twisting sexily while I chewed, and
swallowed.  Her eyes were between my legs, so I spread them, turned back,
and forth to give her a good look.  Her slim hand came up, and I took it.
"Would you like to get a private room?" People were staring, including
security.
   "Yes," her hand was warm, "I would." She stood, so tall.  The ceiling
was three meters in the club, so she had to be close to two.  I looked
down, at her long bare feet, taller than anyone I'd ever met.  She held on
to my hand, let me lead her back to the main room, where I dialed up an
empty one.  Going through the door that slid aside for us, I led her to the
one that was open.
   A simple room, fairly traditional, except it had no Shinto Shrine, the
"Candles" had already lit.  I backed toward the pallate up on the platform
in the back.  She stopped, door closed, and locked behind her, you couldn't
cut your way out with a naganata.  Her buttoned robe came open, baring her
chest, and fell lightly to the floor.  She was gorgeous.
   Unbelievably thin, she didn't look strong enough to hold herself up. 
Her hips were wide, but no bone stuck out.  Her waist curved in, like a
bottle, no lines in front, not even a navel.  She was completely smooth,
all the way up to her perfect round breasts.  Her nipples looked large, but
the same milky white of her skin, I could only see them by the shadows from
the tiny flames of the lights.
   My mouth hung open as she bent to kiss me.  My knees went weak, I fell
back to sit on the futon.  My eyes fell shut, I almost drifted off to a
dream as her tongue went into my mouth.  I could taste her mouth, not like
any flavor I could compare it to.  Not sour, or salty, or any other taste I
know.  She stood up, smiled, and stepped out of her skirt.
   Her hips were almost a shallow triangle from a soft round ridge on her
tummy.  It split at the bottom, spread between her thighs, and her mammae
peeked out, like an eye.  I saw it had a piss hole, through it, like a
Kintama, a man's, or ittle boy's.  The bare bulge in front flattened,
squeezed, and her Chinko grew down out of her.
   "You are," I blinked, "Androgynous?"
   "Futanari," she smiled, nodded.  Yes, it said that out front, but not
really.  I mean, that was hentai, mangas, and cartoons, not real, right? 
It stared me in the face, though, curving forward until it almost pointed
up.  Her lips bulged around it, open enough to see her pink hole, the
shadows darkening it to red.  No hair, not even pores I could see.
   "Can I?" I reached up, and she rolled her hips forward without a word. I
touched it, ran the shaft between my thumb, and finger.  The skin pulled
back from the head, a crease down the bottom, but not split like mine. 
Tiny, smaller than my nose, it got wider until I couldn't touch my thumb
around it, against her belly.
   I let go, petted down her soft, smooth lips.  The bulge at the bottom of
her chinko was between them, pushing them out, the warm soft flesh of her
Manko wrapped around the tip of my finger.  She bent her knees, pushing
mine apart, resting on the soft matress, laying me back.
   She bent foreward, running her Chinko down my little stub, between my
lips.  The tiny head easily pressed in me, spreading me open, burying her
in me.  Too thick at the bottom, I closed my eyes, reached to her hips,
felt for the bones with my thumb, but I couldn't find them.
   She bent forward, rolling out of me, the curve of her chinko never
moving, but getting shorter, thinner in me.  My hands went up her body,
felt the softest roundest breasts I'd ever touched, the firm Chikubi, tips
like pebbles, or porcelain beads.  I always thought I was heterosexual,
neither man, or woman, with either, I was too different to be gay.  I never
dreamed, only fantasised that I could be with someone like me.
   Only she was more, better, like I wished I was, could become.  I drifted
away, breathlessly feeling her in me, spreading throughout me, changing me
inside, making me like her.  I fell asleep, wrapped in her arms, crying
with joy, and love.
   Genevive (Hm, FemD, Anal, Trans)
   The reader genophages took hir, and she passed out.  I withdrew, gave
them time to process, and examined hir.  What I would call early stage, hir
hypophallus was obviously a virilised clitorus.  Soft, I felt the
structure, not enough lenth to penetrate far, shorter than my thumb.
   I activated my salivary glands, woke my taste buds with triggering
hormones.  No ejaculate, hir hyperclit was still dry, but she did
lubricate. Holding the thick folds back, I tasted hir, closed my eyes,
contracted my consciousness.  Dihydro-testosterone, lots of it, too much,
and some sort of carrier lotion, paraffin sucrol, topical.  I produced R.
Esterol, tasted it, dehydrolysed the testosterone, and polymerizing them
into Virone(c).
   It soaked in quickly, softening, and expanding the flesh.  My
genophages, sensing the marker pheromones in my mouth returned with hir
Karyotype.  XX46, femalemale, but I found a damaged allelle right where I
expected it, Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia.  Hard to see how much of hir
virilization was congenital under all the fumbling with topical steroids.
   My system cannibalised it, broke down what was useful, and I turned back
to hir.  Hir clitorus was swollen, not erect, but warm, and puffy with
blood.  I touched hir chest, producing more Estrogynes, and wetting hir
with my tongue, and lips.  Hir breasts responded, flushing with blood to
soak it up, swelling out hir tiny dark hard nipples, the pulse visible in
them.
   I got up, stretched, cycled out fluid with it's waste and a delicious
series of pops down my spine.  There was a computer, shut down, and
biometric keyed.  I picked up my coat, pulled out my credit chit.  They
recognized that, so I plugged it in the appropriate port.  The computer
woke up, switched in a flash from hir desktop, a 3d hentai Futanari on the
background, to the main site.
   The same one I'd found this club through, it automatically deducted
charges, balancing my account.  It also offered other services, and I
brought up Genetic Modification.  "Dr." Toshi San Watanabe', if he had
anything like an official license, he would be working legitimately,
instead of running a sex house.  I clicked his contact button, and waited
for him to answer.
   Not much information, lots of pictures, him with his experiments,
clothed.  Why didn't he like to show his hands?  He was always gloved,
often with them behind him, in a pocket, or otherwise obscured.  They
looked large, hard, and strong, but his posture looked like shame in them.
Maybe they were padded.
   "Nan desu ka!" He appeared, angry on the screen, but then his face
changed when he saw me.  "I mean," he smiled, fake, "What can I do for
you?"
   "I just wanted to express my satisfaction," I bowed formally, "With
your,"..."servant with whom I was just familiar." He looked aside, past me
to Hiro' passed out on the bed.
   "Ah!" he grinned dripping insincere charm, "One of my best!"
   "I understand s/he has a debt?" I changed the subject, "And in
gratitude, I would like to pay it for hir."
   "Yes, Maam," his arms moved out of view, "You see it's a very exp..."
His eyes moved aside, on his screen, and he stopped.  "Well, she's one of
my best girls."
   "I wonder," I stood up, and folded my coat across my naked front, "if we
could discuss this in person?"
   "Of course," his eyes opened enough to see the whites, "I'll send some
one right away." I retracted my priapus, and pulled on my skirt.  By the
time my boots were on, the panel door slid open, and two guards were there.
I couldn't help but notice that though masculine, they had bulging chests,
and swords.
   I followed one, while the other followed me, down stairs to a back hall,
painted brick, and an office with a normal door, which swung out.  Painted
steel, it had a massive lock.  Toshi was inside, standing up, still having
to look up at me.  I got a good look at his bald pate, in front of the
top-knot.
   "I'm not here to ask," I looked down on him, my best control posture,
and voice.
   "What's this?" He got angry, "Industrial Espionage!" He'd done some
homework through my Corporate account.
   I laughed, stepped forward to emphasize the height difference.  "You
don't do genetic work here.  She pleased me, and I want her."
   "Well," he smiled, and rubbed his gloves together, "I had to do
extensive work on her."
   Go on, try to gouge me.  "You've seen my account?" He nodded, "You know
that I can't get one of those without enough income to buy a small
skyscraper." I knew for a fact he couldn't afford one.  "I assure you money
is no object."
   He gave in, visibly deflating.  I'd pulled the Caste card, I was higher
than him, and he knew it.  Even being an outsider didn't outweigh that. 
"And besides," I pulled the belt on my coat, "I can sweeten the deal." His
smiling face fell down my body, and he flushed right across the top of his
head.
   He's not attractive, and I didn't need sex to save money, but I was
curious.  I wanted to know what he'd done to himself, and this was the
quickest way to find out.  I stayed dominant, forcing my priapus down his
gibbering throat, and he loved it.  I stripped him, roughly, pulled off his
gloves, and sniffed them.  Soaked in his sweat, and DHT dissolved in it, I
noticed his hands were hairy, shaved, but still stubbly.
   Like my father, the only time he didn't wear gloves is when he's
molesting one of his girls with topical hormones.  A different recepie,
this hyper-virilized his hands, made him bald, and probably oversexed him
acutely.  Hard the whole time, I didn't touch his little penis, smaller
than mine, hairy, and misshapen.  I bent him over his desk, fucked him,
pulled out, and slapped him with the dirty condom.  I didn't want anything
from him, and he would get nothing from me.
   I got on his computer, while he went off, whimpering, holding his ass so
he didn't dribble all over the floor.  "Fucking pervert," I payed off her
debt, transferring the funds without even having to change screens. 
Unlocking the door, I went out, and the guards stopped me.
   "Where is Toshisan?" They asked, hands near their handles.
   "Probably on the shitter," they glanced back behind me, "Or in the
shower."
   They didn't see me move until I had both swords in my hands, drawing
them crossed, and stepping back, defensively.  Heavy, but well balanced,
they jumped, stepped back into stances, but unarmed, didn't attack.  "Take
me back to My girl," I demanded, "Hiroshimaru."
   I turned the swords in my hands, held them out handles first, backs of
the blades curving along my forearms.  I escorted them back to the room,
closed the door, and bent over hir...
   Hiroshimaru (Ht Futa, Herm)
   "Hiro'," her soft hand shook me, gently.
   "Hei," I opened my eyes, saw she was dressed.
   "Come on," she held clothes for me, took my hand, "Lets go." She pulled
me up, and I was shocked at how strong she was.  I put on the skirt, and
blouse, and robe, and we talked.  "I can't leave," I pulled on toed socks.
   "I payed your debt," she watched, unmoving, no expression on her face.
   "Domo," I blinked, "Arigato." The cost of my treatments, "But my
transformation."
   "I'll handle that," she smiled, "Come on." I stepped into some sandals,
and she led me out by the hand.  She took me back to the waiting room,
unescorted, and a man stood up, took his arms from around two women.  They
giggled, and ran off, pulling their clothes over their bouncing breasts. 
"Come on," she waved, and he tucked a Wakizashi in his belt.  A shirisaya,
plain wood without any tsuba, it was ment to store blades, or ship them,
not for combat.  Painted matte black, it had cloth wrapped tight around the
handle.
   He looked at me, pulled his glasses up over his eyes.  They were black,
all black, not even shiny, and two black gems were implanted in his
temples. He smiled, American, or western, with deep skin, not dark, but
somehow he looked Nigiro.
   "I am Hiroshimaru," I bowed.
   "Kevin," he nodded, formally.  At the weapon check, he picked up a
wooden Bokken, or practice Katana.  "Musashi style?" I always liked martial
arts, just never got to do them.  Sure, I learned to fight, on the streets,
but had no formal training.
   "Iaijutsu," his Japanese was good, with a Kyoto accent, "and street
Gundo."
   "But the bokken?" I was confused, "how do you do Battojutsu without the
saya?"
   He smiled, "Misdirection."
   Outside for the first time in months, the street stink of the deep city
made me gag, and cough.  Looking around, I thought I, and Genevive were the
only ones who weren't armed, and this far down, that was dangerous.
   Someone said something, Japanese, but a street dialect so primitave I
only caught "Nigi-Ronin." Kevin turned, shouted back, sword out, but held
backward, and upside down instead of out at the ready.  "Go home, Gaijin,"
gangsters came out, arms bare to show their tattoos, weapons in their
hands. "You ain't no Black Ronin."
   He smiled, stepped forward, bent, kneeled, and sat, wooden sword once
again tucked in his belt.  This time, it was on the left, Dai Sho with his
short real sword.
   'Black Ronin', I remembered the name from the news when I was growing
up, the legend, who helped wipe out the Yakuza in Kyoto.  Genevive already
stepped back, hands on my shoulders, and I looked back.
   She has long feet, and her heels were off the ground, making her even
taller.  The gangsters got to Kevin, surrounded him.  The leader, the one
who taunted him poked him with the end of his staff.  Or, he tried to, the
wood nearly touched his shoulder, then there was a blur.  A circle, a dome
of motion he disappeared in, and all three gangsters jumped back.  One
fell, the leader, his legs kicking over him, and he landed, hitting his
head.
   I didn't blink, I just missed it, it was so fast.  The staff, just a
stick, really, hit the pavement behind us, and the other two ran, putting
away their weapons.  Standing from his move, a fluid slash all around him
that hit all three of them, he hit the back of the wooden blade with his
fist, and spun it back into his belt, on the right side.
   He pulled out his real sword, in a blur, and showed it to the gangster.
"This," he unwrapped the handle, unpainted wood, and showed him the
calligraphy on it, "Is not a replica." It slipped back in it's plain black
Saya, without looking, or holding the mouth, like I'd seen the martial
artists, Iaidoka do.
   In our language, society, he was saying either he was Nigironin, or he'd
earned the sword.  It was implied through combat. "I'm never gonna live
that down," he said to me.  No, looking up, to Genevive.
   "Sorry, Keith," she rubbed her face with her hand, "I did what I could."
   "I thought you were Kevin?" I wondered.
   "Useta be Keith," he looked down, "Keith Kevin Knight," he held out his
hand, "3K for short, but people still call me Black Ronin round here."
   "But you not black," a little dark, maybe, but his hair was brown also.
   "Not no more," he smiled up at Genevive, "My old face was a little high
profile." He pulled something out of his coat, a gun, illegal here, and
pointed it at the defeated gangster.  He fell back, arms up, tears falling
from his eyes.  The forbidden weapon puffed, sprayed him across the white
striped shirt.
   A black stain appeared on it, creased by the wrinkles, and a little
warped.  It looked like the silhouette of a horse's head, with a base on
the bottom of it like a statute.  A silver slash on the side, his sword
standing out at the ready.  Not a gun, a sprayer, automatically painted the
symbol, or logo like a paint-bomb.
   "You're it," he kicked him brutally in the head, knocking him out.  We
walked, behind, and to the sides of him to a car, parked un-damaged on the
side of the street.  One of those new Mitsubishi, a "Tengu" like Takae's.
The canopies opened, and they got in, Genevive behind Nigironin.  She held
out her hand, pulled me in to sit on her lap, and closed the curved window
over us.  We took off, fast, but still on the ground.
   She talked to me, told me what I was, what was wrong with me.
   "Your adrenal glands produced a hormone, called Aldosterone, while you
were in your mother.  This caused you to partially develop your Wolffian
structures, like your hypertrophic clitorus, or microphallus.
   "But my brother," I wondered, "He is normal?"
   "Ida know," she shrugged against my hair, "I don't know him, but he may
not share the mutation, which doesn't affect males, or is a carrier for
it."
   Her hands were all over me, first stroking my back, thumbs on either
side of my spine, then feeling my chest, opening my blouse, cupping my
breasts.  The window went black, so I couldn't see out, so I closed my
eyes. She was out, curling under me, between my legs.  Her hands slipped up
my legs, lifting my skirt, me to pull it back.  She entered me, filled me,
hands warm, tingling on my Opai.  I didn't pass out this time, just
floated, flew on her wave of rapture.
   She did Masu o Kaku to me, Shiko Shikosuru, pulling my Chinko, petting
it, rubbing it, and it felt better than sex ever had before.  I felt my
rush, different, more intense than ever before, and a strange twitch deep
inside me.  Something came out, like Shomben, Urine, but thick, like
Ichata, Seshi, semen, cum.  She let go, held it up to me, Ikakusai!  I
tasted it, strange, not like a man, but nothing like anything that comes
from a woman.
   I sucked it from her fingers, swallowed it, enjoyed the taste, My
Flavor. Iku I Ku, I cummed!  Just like I always knew I should.  She dressed
me, fixed my clothes as well as she could, and the curved ceiling went
clear again.  I could see the sky, blue, clouds for the first time in
years. "Were are we going?" leaving the city.
   "I have land," she whispered in my ear, "Down on Shikoku, were I can...
work on you." I could hear her breath, feel it on my ear.  She didn't move,
but pulled out of me, getting shorter, thinner, pulling back into her body.
I could feel it drag back, between my ass.  The thousand nipples popped out
again, on my shoulders, arms, back, such a strange feeling.
   We went down, across the tops of buildings, and street levels, between
the taller ones to the ground, the edge of the city.  The engines got loud,
and we went faster down the long straight road.  Nigironin nodded, at the
screen I couldn't see in front of him, and leaned back.  The front wheel
lifted, and the whole car tilted.  I caught my breath, heart beating out of
control as we took off into the air.
   I never flew before.  Cast out of family, I took a boat up to Tokyo
harbor.  It was incredible, exitingly frightening, held tight in Genevive's
arms.  She lay back, the seat dropping flat under us.  Hands on my
shoulders, she turned me, undressed me, untying my skirt, pulling my blouse
back from my shoulders.  I didn't know I could get it up again so quick,
but hir coat was open, spread under her.  She lifted me, pulled down her
skirt, and kicked it off.
   She didn't harden, peek out, just a fold between her lips, pressed
together.  She touched mine, ran her thumb under my hardness.  It felt
longer, harder, thicker.  I looked down, astonished, it had grown!  I
didn't recognise it, the shape had changed slightly as well.  It never
changed so rapidly, would have taken a month to grow that much before.  She
spread her legs, guided me, received me, accepted me into her.
   I'd always imagined this before, fantasized about fucking someone. 
Especially while oral sex, pushing in, and out of their lips, but never had
enough to penetrate a woman.  That had changed, still not enough to stroke,
I pulled back just a little, and popped out, but she guided me back in. 
Moving her hand, she pressed my back, my hair into the soft ridge on her
front.
   So tall, her Oppai were in my face, my cheeks pressed between them.  I
licked her chest, and she didn't taste salty, just feminine in a way I
can't describe, never tasted anywhere else.  Her hands went up my body,
rippling over my tummy, and ribs, wrapping around my chest, touching and
pleasing the tips.  I could feel her, squeezing me, pulling me in, waves
like undertow, milking it out of me.  "Iku," I could feel it flowing out,
"I Ku!" completely unlike Urine.
   I went soft right away, even before the pleasure stopped, rolling over
me like warm surf.  I sighed, ran my hand between the middle of her chest,
felt her heart thump through it.  I don't know how long we flew, I don't
think I fell asleep, but after a while, we started flying down.  She made
love to me again, in me, then we got dressed, and put the seat up, sitting
in her lap again.  Looking out the front, I saw water, hills, mountains,
beautiful green getting closer, higher under us.
   A stripe of black, straight forward, a runway coming in so fast, and the
engines made this weird sound, straining.  We slowed down in the air,
tilting up, dropping diagonally, then touched, leveled out, and slowed to a
stop.  I got out first, before the engines even wound down, and stretched.
My back popped, like it never had before, sending shivers up it as the wave
rolled down.  I rubbed my arms until the pimples went away, though it was
warm.
   3K (MT Futa)
   The girls wiggled, and giggled against me.  Kinda weird, these girls
with little dicks, like mine when I was a kid, but the tip split into folds
like a clitty.  These was dressed, not wearing much, but with the
difference tucked into panties.  I could reach down, feel around, but their
chests heaved against mine, titties rolling around, spilling out the tops
of the silky kimono robes.
   I got up when She came out, Genevive Sensei, meaning doctor, but also my
matron, boss, and holding my Giri debt.  In some ways She made me, gave me
the muscle density of a great ape, bone reinforcement so I don't tear
myself apart, the biotech half of my enhancment, and now a new face, so I
can return to Nippon, my chosen culture.
   "Nigironin!" I'll never live that down.  Kyoto, my first job for the
project.  Unnamed, it was eventually known by it's products, called
"Cyberserkers." I was the only survivor, mostly because I didn't go
Berserk, have to be melted down remotely, or when the Self Destruct Timer
ran down.  Mine was even reset, as far as I know.  We never could see them,
or know how long we had left.
   Fuckit, I tought the impudent street punks a lesson.  Wearing the
tattoos of gangsters, they barely qualify.  The face wasn't working, even
with a color change, and I refuse to hide my sword.  I earned it, and
someone would have to take it from me the same way I got it, pulling it
from my dead left hand, wiping their blood from the blade where I got them.
   That business taken care of, I took Genesensei home, with Hir new girl.
That's how she wants me to say it, like "heer," sort of, because she's not
really a woman.  I guess the new one, Hiroshimaru, is a hir too, a he-she,
a Futanari, or the surgical abominations they call that over here.  Like
the ones in the waiting room, trying to make a sale, s/he was cute,
feminine, oriental.
   I like asian chicks, especially Japanese.  As Genesan played with hir, I
couldn't help glancing back, lowering the frames of my screen glasses to
expose my peripheral sensors.  Like my cyberoptic eyes, I split my vision,
kept one one the road, but turned my head to look back.
   On hir lap, Genvive's long slim gracefull boneless hands felt hir
through the robe.  Quite a body, big round titties, squashing under the
pressure of hir fingers, spread like pale spider legs.  I watched hir lift
hir skirt, the bare crotch, hairless pussy, and smelled them in the tight
cabin.
   Genesan's long skinny cock rolling out, tapering to a head like a little
boy's, spreading the girl's lips, widening as it extended into hir.  I
hardened too, despite the girl's tiny dickie, split like a clitty, the
triangle of it's little shaft, puffy soft looking lips puckered around it
like the now thick hardness iinside hir.
   I swear, that's the first time I got turned on by one of them, even
Genevive, like a supermodel, but with that something extra.  S/he looked
up, Hiroshimaru, eyes tight to slits, fold between the lids, and eyebrows
down, mouth going wide, round.
   As soon as we took off, I put it on auto pilot, and jacked off.  Fuck
it, by then, Hiroshi was fucking Gene', ass bouncing between hir legs, and
I got off, wiping it on my pants.  What the fuck, it was hot, and I had to
do something.
   Hiroshimaru
   I grew up outside Nagisake', but forgot how green it was.  Trees stood
up like buildings, and Bambu, like grass.  Keith got out, offored his hands
to help me, then Genevive out.
   "Utsukushii," I gasped in the fresh clean air, 'beautiful.'
   "Hei," Kevin smiled, and led us off to a stand of Bambu.  It looked
strange, and as we got closer, it wasn't growing up, but back, and forth,
diagonal, criss/crossing like a basket, curving around in a green circle
fence.  On one side, it was open, but covered in a curtain of long woven
leaves.
   "You can stay here," Genesan smiled, pulling them back to a round room.
  
Hiroshimaru (Rewrite)