A man comes to grips with his wife’s surprise transition to a futanari.
Authors Note: There was a story called “My Futa Wife” that I can’t find anymore. Super hot, especially the first scene. Don’t recall the author. But it was super hot. This is my version of it.
—-
The key turned in the lock with a familiar click, and I stepped into the house, kicking off my shoes by the door. The living room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, and the air smelled of stale coffee and something else—something musky, unfamiliar. It had been a week, and still, every time I walked through that door, I held my breath, half-expecting everything to be back to normal. Half-hoping.
It wasn't.
I dropped my bag by the couch and called out, "Hey, I'm home."
No answer.
That wasn't unusual lately. She'd been spending a lot of time in the bedroom, avoiding mirrors, avoiding the sharp light of day. I understood. When your body does something impossible, something that shouldn't be possible, you retreat. You hide. And that's what we'd been doing for seven days now.
I walked down the hallway, my footsteps soft on the carpet. The bedroom door was cracked open, and a warm light spilled out from the bedside lamp. I pushed it open gently.
And there she was.
My wife, her long brown hair splayed across the pillow, her body propped up against a stack of pillows. Her legs were spread, and between them, rising proudly from where her clit used to be, was a thick, veined cock. She had her hand wrapped around the base, her lips wrapped around the head, her tongue swirling over the slit as she sucked herself, her eyes closed, a soft moan escaping her throat.
I froze in the doorway. My brain short-circuited. The sight was obscene and mesmerizing—the way her lips stretched around the shaft, the wet sounds of her mouth working, the slight bob of her head. Her hips rocked gently, pushing her cock deeper into her own throat. Drool trickled down her chin.
Then her eyes opened.
She saw me standing there, and her body jerked. Her hips bucked, her throat tightened, and a deep, guttural moan escaped her lips. Her cock swelled, veins throbbing, and she came—a thick, hot burst of white cum hitting the back of her throat, then spilling over her lips as she pulled away. Some of it landed on her cheeks, her chin, glistening in the lamplight. She gasped, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and raw pleasure.
"Fuck," she whispered, wiping a smear of cum from her chin. "I didn't... I didn't hear you come in."
"Clearly," I said, my voice rough. I couldn't look away from her cock, still half-hard and slick with her saliva and cum. The taste of it lingered in the air—salty, musky, warm.
—-
Later, we sat in the kitchen. She'd cleaned up, pulled on a loose robe, but the tension between us was thick. I sipped my coffee, trying to find the right words.
"So," she said finally, "you saw me. All of me."
"I saw you."
"And?" She looked down at her hands, twisting the fabric of the robe between her fingers. "How do you feel about it? About... this?"
I set my mug down. The ceramic clinked against the table. "Strange. Really strange. I mean, a week ago you didn't have a dick, and now..." I trailed off, shaking my head.
"But I'm also curious."
Her eyes met mine, surprised. "Curious? What do you mean, curious?"
"I keep looking at it. Wondering what it feels like. What it would be like to..." I stopped, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. The words felt dangerous.
"To what?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"To touch it. To have it in my mouth." The words came out in a rush. "I know it's weird. I know it's fucking insane. But I can't help it. Every time I see you, I just... I want to feel it."
She stared at me, her lips parted. "I didn't expect that," she said slowly. "I thought you'd be freaked out. Disgusted. I thought you'd leave me."
"Leave you? Why would I leave you?"
"Because I'm a freak now. Because I have something that shouldn't be there. Because—"
"Stop." I reached across the table and took her hand. "You're not a freak. You're my wife. And I'm... I'm drawn to it. To you. Even like this."
A long silence stretched between us. She squeezed my fingers. "That's... good," she said finally, her voice cracking. "I think."
——
I woke to warmth. The soft curve of her ass pressed against my groin, and my morning erection was already nestled between her cheeks. Half-asleep, I started grinding, my hips moving instinctively, my cock sliding against the slick cleft of her ass.
She made a sleepy sound and pushed back against me. Her hips rocked, and I felt the wet heat of her pussy, still slick from sleep. My cock found the entrance, and I pushed inside her slowly, feeling her walls grip me as I grew harder. The sound of our skin slapping together was muffled by the sheets.
"Mm," she murmured, "that's nice."
I fucked her that way, slow and deep, my hand reaching around her waist. Her cock was hard, slapping against her belly with each thrust—a wet, rhythmic noise. I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking in rhythm with my movements. The shaft was hot and smooth, and pre-cum leaked onto my palm, making it slick.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Don't stop."
I sped up, my palm sliding over her shaft, the sound of my hand moving along her cock mixing with her moans. "I'm close," I said. "I'm going to cum."
"Me too."
She came first—a soft groan, her cock pulsing in my hand. A thin stream of cum shot out, but it didn't go far. It dribbled over her stomach, warm and sticky. I leaned forward, catching a few drops on my tongue. The taste was salty and thick. I buried myself deep inside her and came, filling her with my own release, my cock twitching as I emptied into her.
——-
The next morning, I was still half-asleep when I heard the bathroom door open. I looked up to see her stepping out, steam curling around her body. She was wearing a pair of black lace panties, but her cock jutted out from the waistband, thick and fully erect, pointing straight up. The tip was moist, glistening in the soft light.
I sat up, my mouth dry. She walked toward me, her hips swaying, and I couldn't stop staring at it. The veined shaft, the flushed head, the way it bobbed with each step.
She leaned down and kissed me, soft and warm. Her tongue brushed mine. Then she pulled back, her cock inches from my face. "Kiss it," she said.
I hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and pressed my lips to the tip. It was hot and smooth, with a faint taste of soap and skin. I did it again, and then I opened my mouth and took the head between my lips.
She groaned, her hand sliding to the back of my head. "Suck me."
I sucked, my tongue tracing the ridge. The taste of pre-cum spread across my tongue—bitter and salty. She pushed deeper, her grip tightening, and soon she was bobbing my head on her cock, her hips thrusting gently. The head hit the back of my throat, and I gagged, but she didn't stop. She wanted more. I could feel it in the way she held me, the way she pressed forward, trying to shove her whole length down my throat.
"Ssh, open up," she whispered, her voice strained. "I need to feel your throat."
I tried to relax my throat, to open up, but she was too thick. My eyes watered as she pushed, and the sounds of her hips slapping against my face filled the room. Then she came—a hot flood of cum filling my mouth. I swallowed, feeling the thick liquid slide down my throat. She kept thrusting until she was done, her cock pulsing. Then she pulled out, petting my head gently, a soft smile on her face.
"Good boy," she murmured.
——-
Over the next few days, I started noticing changes. Her cock never went fully soft anymore. It stayed half-hard, always present, always visible through her clothes. And she looked different—taller, somehow. Broader in the shoulders, her muscles more defined. Her skin seemed to glow with a healthy sheen.
I found myself incredibly attracted to her. More than I ever had been. Every time I saw her, my heart raced. I wanted to touch her, to taste her, to have her inside me.
"You look different," I said one evening as she walked past me in the kitchen.
She stopped. "Different how?"
"Stronger. More... I don't know. Radiant." I shrugged, feeling foolish. "I can't stop looking at you."
She smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No. It's definitely not a bad thing."
——
Another morning. I woke to pressure against my ass. Her cock was pressed against me, and she was grinding, her hips moving in slow circles. Her breathing was heavy. I could feel the heat of her shaft through the thin fabric of my boxers.
"Hey," I said, my voice groggy. "What are you trying to do?"
She laughed, a little embarrassed, but didn't stop. "I don't know. I just... I woke up and I wanted to feel you. Your ass against me." Her hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer. "Is that weird?"
I was nervous, but also amused. "You're trying to fuck me in my sleep?"
"Maybe." She kissed my shoulder. "Would that be so bad?"
I didn't answer. The pressure of her cock against me sent shivers down my spine. But I was thinking about it.
———
All day at work, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Her cock. Her wanting to be inside me. The image of her grinding against me replayed in my mind. And slowly, I started to realize: I wanted it too. I wanted to know what it felt like to have her inside me, to be filled by her.
That afternoon, I stopped at a sex shop. The bell above the door jingled as I walked in. The aisles were lined with dildos, vibrators, harnesses—everything I'd never needed before. My face hot, I found what I was looking for: a small butt plug with a flared base, and a bottle of lube marked "extra slick." I paid quickly, avoiding the cashier's eyes, and left, my heart pounding.
When I got home, she was out for a walk. I locked the bathroom door, stripped, and spent an hour figuring out how to put the plug in my ass. I knelt on the bath mat, squeezed lube onto the silicone, and pressed it against my entrance. It was awkward at first—uncomfortable, a strange pressure. But I kept at it, breathing through the tension, until I could slide it in and out without too much pain. The sensation was strange: full, stretched, vulnerable. But a sense of anticipation built in my chest.
——-
The next night, I came home with a bottle of red wine and a bag of sushi. We ate on the living room floor, candles flickering on the coffee table, the dim light catching the curves of her face.
"I can't believe this is our life now," she said, twirling a piece of sashimi with her chopsticks. "A week ago I was just a normal woman. Now I have a dick that won't go down."
I poured more wine into her glass. "But it's not bad, is it?"
She thought for a moment. "No. Not bad. Just... different. Everything is different. The way I feel, the way I move, the way I want you." She looked at me, her eyes dark. "I want you more than I ever have."
We finished the wine, and the conversation drifted. Her hand found mine. Her eyes were hungry, searching.
"I've been thinking," she said. "I want to know what it feels like. To be inside someone. To push into them and feel them clench around me."
I took a breath. "Maybe we can do something about that."
I stood up and undid my pants. They dropped to the floor, and I turned around, showing her the base of the butt plug nestled between my cheeks.
She stared, her mouth falling open. Then she laughed—a surprised, delighted laugh. "You... you bought that?"
"I want you to fuck me," I said, my voice steady. "I want to feel you inside me."
——-
She didn't waste any time. She pushed me back onto the bed, her hands rough as she yanked off my pants. Her cock was already straining against the fabric of her skirt, lifting it into a tent. She shed her clothes in a blur, and my breath caught.
She looked amazing. Her skin was glowing, her muscles defined, her cock standing straight and proud. The head was deep red, slick with pre-cum. She crawled between my legs and took my cock in her mouth, her tongue working the shaft, the head, the sensitive underside. The wet heat of her mouth made me gasp. She bobbed her head, taking me deep, and the sounds of her sucking filled the room.
Then she shifted, straddling my head, and lowered her cock to my lips. "Open," she said. I opened, and she slid inside my mouth. I moaned around her, tasting the salt and musk, the skin smooth against my tongue. She rocked her hips, fucking my face, and I could feel her getting close. I was close too.
"Not yet, honey." She pulled out, breathing hard. "I'm not ready for you to finish."
She grabbed the lube, uncapped it, and squirted a generous amount onto her fingers. "Turn around."
I obeyed, getting on my hands and knees. She reached between my legs, her slick fingers finding the plug. She pulled it out slowly, the stretch making me gasp. Then she spread the lube over her shaft, coating it until it glistened. She lined the head up with my entrance, and I felt the pressure—warm and insistent.
"Ready?"
"Be gentle," I whispered.
She pushed. The head breached me, and I felt the stretch—a burning pressure that made me clench. Then she was inside me, sliding deeper, inch by inch. I groaned, my fingers gripping the sheets. She paused, letting me adjust.
"God, you're tight," she breathed. "I can feel myself inside you."
She started fucking me, slow at first, then faster. The sounds were wet and obscene—her hips slapping against my ass, her breath coming in ragged moans. Each thrust hit my prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. The pain mingled with pleasure, exquisite and overwhelming.
I'd never felt so small. So vulnerable. So owned. She fucks me, I thought, and the thought made me harder. Her hand reached around and found my cock, stroking in time with her thrusts.
"I'm going to cum," she said, her voice strained.
I felt her pulse inside me, her hot seed flooding my ass. The sensation sent me over the edge. I came on the sheets, my body shuddering, my cum warm and sticky beneath me.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, her cock softening inside me. She kissed my neck. "Was that okay?"
A tentative yes escaped my lips.
She smiled, her hand tracing patterns on my chest. "Good. Because I'm going to want to do that again soon."
And a part of me—a big part—was excited about that.