Futanarium 1: Futanari Short Story Bundle by Maria N. Lang

Author:Maria N. Lang [Lang, Maria N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Erotica, Short Stories (Single Author)
Google: AmpuAwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Nymirra Publishing
Published: 2014-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

Roguish Delight

She wanted to think of the ancient stone arch over her head as something symbolic, something to represent that she was not only leaving her old life behind, but entering a new and brighter future. The truth was that, while the gate was impressive, the masonry was aged. Even a farm girl could clearly see the stone was past its prime, mortar crumbling, with moss gradually encroaching.

“C’mon, move your ass!”

Someone from behind angrily brushed past her, ramming a hard shoulder into her back in the process. She stumbled forward gracelessly, spitting a weak “Fuck you!” after the perpetrator. The bustle at the gate was enough that she had no real idea who had even hit her, and the guards made her feel relatively secure in her outburst.

Mylene Quinn inhaled expectantly, guided her slender hands into the shallow pockets of her well-worn dirt-brown pants, and set off past the Farstream city gates with lazy steps. She noted the eyes of more than one of the obviously bored guards on her backside, even as modest as it looked in her utilitarian and rough outfit. She ducked her head, mumbled another quiet, insincere curse under her breath about pigs and padded onwards, down the grimy cobbled road, into the city. She was soon swallowed up between worn-down houses, disappearing into the well-oiled machinery of bars and taverns that form the underlying support of any larger urban area.

When she had taken everything her family owned, everything that could be carried, and left in the middle of the night, she had imagined that she would come to the city and somehow make it. Find a living, find excitement and most of all, her own life. It soon turned out that baling hay and plowing fields were far from useful skills in a city, leaving her with little opportunity. Even the taverns and bars seemed to have no room for a foreign girl amongst their waitress staff.

A week passed, days spent on wandering the muddy and often disarrayed streets of Farstream. The few riches she had been able to plunder from her family’s farm soon proved inadequate, causing frustration to rise as the amount of coins in her pouch dwindled.

Most people remained uninterested in befriending her, in fact, all she had had so far were ill-hidden advances, mostly from drunkards. The initial polite letdowns were soon replaced with colder and colder rebuttals, until she eventually just learned to say “No.” in a decisive enough tone that most of them never even got further than a few words into their horrible, clearly planned speeches.

Thankfully, the advances lessened considerably as her appearance began to reflect her standard of living. An eighteen year old girl from the farms, stuck in loose, patchy clothes. The dirt-brown pants were beginning to fray at the bottom, and were almost more made of patches than the original leather. Of course, the fact that they seemed to have been passed down from her oldest brothers through to her for more than a decade did not do her any justice either.

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