Volume 1 Chapter 4

Volume 1 + Chapter 4: Friendship, Infatuation, And Guilt.

[Author’s Note: A bit of an explanation chapter, and some soft ecchi content!]

After parting ways with Tonari-san, I don’t really remember how I made it back to my room.

I passed through the door to my room that I’d flung open roughly and firmly locked it behind me.

In my dimly lit room—which was less “tidy” and more “so bare there wasn’t even enough to make a mess”—I slumped down, leaning against the bed.

There had been too many firsts for me today, and honestly, I was completely worn out.

“Haaah…….”

Wrapped in the room’s air, warmed by the daytime sun to the point of a faint sweat, I let out a damp sigh.

Normally, I’m the type to immediately turn on the AC and watch the next episode of my favorite anime or drama, or get active (?) in some way.

But honestly, I was utterly exhausted today and had no mental energy left for any of that.

Thinking I might as well just fall asleep like this, I closed my eyes, but maybe because I was so worked up, drowsiness didn’t come at all.

On the contrary, when I closed my eyes, the very reasons I was so exhausted floated into my mind, making it impossible to relax.

Even in my own room, which should have been a place of peace, I was being cornered by thoughts of her.

“Tonari-san, huh…”

Just saying her name made my heart skip a beat.

The first friend I’d made since starting university.

A friend… right?

I’m not really sure…

Honestly, for someone like me, who had fully embraced being a plain Jane, she was the so-called “bright and cheerful” type—my complete opposite.

From her perspective, she probably just found a plain girl like me curiously interesting and spoke to me on a whim.

In a way, I initially thought it was like poking at a stray cat on the roadside…

But then I got whisked away on the way home, and afterward, we hung out a lot, like friends.

We made promises to hang out again, to commute to school together.

But what’s really tormenting me isn’t that.

“She’s just… so close all the time…”

I know that everyone has their own way of handling personal space.

In her case, she must be the type to close the distance once she gets familiar with someone.

But even so, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?

At the clothing store, as if checking my size, she kept patting my waist and chest.

At the accessory shop, if she found even the slightest trinket interesting, she’d immediately want me to try it on, so she never left my side for a moment.

At the cafe, seemingly curious about the cake I was eating, she said, “Let me have a bite,” and we ended up feeding each other.

Between shops, we were mostly holding hands.

Especially on the train ride back, it was brutal.

On the surprisingly crowded train, unable to find a spot to hold onto a strap, she held onto me the entire time.

Whenever the train rattled and swayed, her body was pressed against mine.

Each time, sensations like her softness, her warmth, and a sweet, pleasant scent—maybe perfume, I couldn’t tell—assaulted me.

It would be weirder not to misunderstand in this situation.

“U… ah…♥”

Remembering it made a throb of heat ache deep in my lower belly.

This, too, was one of the reasons I was so worn out.

In time with my own heartbeat, throb, throb, it ached, seemingly yearning to come out any moment now.

When I tightened the muscles below my belly, I could feel it twitching and struggling restlessly inside my underwear, growing tighter and more tense.

It was getting so tight it was starting to hurt.

Hesitantly, I lifted my skirt to look. I could see my favorite boxer shorts bulging from what was pushed inside.

It was erect, rigidly pushing up the stretchy fabric, almost to the point of popping out.

The tip was damp, as if it had drooled a little.

Seeing that, I gulped softly.

What was there was unmistakably a dick.

I am what’s commonly known as a ‘futanari’.

But I wasn’t born like this, it was due to a certain illness.

Spontaneous Adjacent Hermaphroditism Syndrome.

It’s a so-called illness of unknown cause that got that name decades ago, where one’s sex suddenly changes one day.

Nowadays, they say it occurs in about one in 5,000 people or something.

Type I, more common in men, involves completely losing the original sex and becoming the other.

What I have, Type II, more common in women, is where one stops as a futanari, possessing both sexes.

When it first made the news, it became a huge topic worldwide.

A lot of research has been done since, but it seems they still haven’t found any clues.

I heard discrimination was pretty bad back then, but now, decades later, understanding has progressed a lot.

Changing rooms and toilets have become private spaces, and thanks to various considerations, discrimination has mostly disappeared.

Even so, when it manifested during my second year of high school, I was thrown into a complete panic.

Well, setting aside all those complicated details…

There have been many times before when the dick attached to me has gotten bigger as a physiological reaction.

Especially when waking up in the morning, or when I’m dead tired.

I’m kind of tired now too, but I can tell this time is different.

It feels more… eager, or something.

Anyway, when I closed my eyes trying to calm it down, images of Tonari-san kept flickering through my mind again.

Things like the gesture of her licking cream off her lips, the soft feeling when she linked arms with me, the sweet, nice scent I smelled up close.

I have to admit, I have pretty good taste.

As if responding to those thoughts, my dick twitched and trembled, and I felt another slow trickle of pre-cum ooze out.

For the first time since growing this thing, I found myself wanting to use it for its intended purpose.

“I thought I was normal though…”

Muttering that as I took off my clothes carefully to avoid wrinkles, I found myself pondering: what is “normal” for a futanari anyway?

Perhaps because this condition has been around for a while, there are patient groups.

So, actually, patients interact with each other quite a bit.

Thinking back carefully, the partners of futanari are about half men, half women.

So, isn’t it fine if Tonari-san stands by my side…?

Thinking that far, I noticed my dick was throbbing and hard to the point of pain, even more than before.

Once it had gotten to this state, it seemed like holding back was no longer an option.

────

Now in just my underwear, with my fingers hooked on the waistband, I gulped as if steeling myself.

Up until now, whenever my dick got hard, I’d try not to think about anything and just wait for time to pass.

Focusing on reading, games, or anime worked well.

Doing that, it would shrink back before I knew it, and I thought that was my way of dealing with this part of me.

It’s not that I disliked it—after all, it’s a part of my body.

But undoubtedly, I’d always felt that pulling my erect dick out of my underwear was somehow a forbidden act.

That said, it wasn’t that I had no interest in actively dealing with it.

But living with my parents as a mere high school student, someone might see or hear.

Using a school toilet stall just because I could be alone was out of the question.

Being cautious and worried about others’ eyes, I made excuses like that and deliberately looked the other way.

But now, partly due to my father’s suggestion that “it’s all part of the experience,” I’m living in a boarding house.

The things I was worried about were easily swept away.

In this apartment where I live alone, there’s no one else but me.

Which means… I can masturbate with my dick as much as I want.

Once that thought crossed my mind, my heart started pounding loudly, doki-doki, racing excitedly.

And my dick, as if understanding, twitched and throbbed happily.

Alright, I’ll do it…

Finally unable to hold back any longer, shivering with excitement, I tried to yank my boxer shorts down in one go…

“Ah, ahhh♥ Yabaahhh…♥”

My mind was elsewhere, and I didn’t notice the waistband had caught on the tip of my dick as I slid my shorts down, zururi.

The sudden, strong stimulus on the tip made me reflexively pull my hips back.

Enduring that sensation, I slid the shorts down to around my knees. The trapped, downward-pointing dick was freed, sprang upward, hit my stomach with a soft, slightly silly pechiri sound.

“Uuu…♥ It’s kinda… bigger than usual…♥♥ And way too energetic…♥”

Sitting on the soft bed mattress, I looked down and observed my own dick.

Come to think of it, I remember the female gynecologist who treated me when this condition manifested, muttering that it was really big.

I’ve never compared it to anyone else’s, so I don’t know, but if a doctor says so, it must be big.

My dick, perhaps still feeling the lingering pleasure from rubbing against my shorts, trembled on its own, hiku-hiku.

The tip, the glans, was swollen bright red, erect so rigidly it pressed firmly against my stomach. It looked like a kid stretching itself up, and I found it just a tiny bit cute.

Standing proudly erect, my dick rose high enough to surpass my navel.

The shaft had visible veins, slightly grotesque, and was so thick that even if I squeezed it hard, my fingers wouldn’t meet.

Going further up, after a tight constriction, there was the prominently flared coronal ridge, and the glossy, plump glans which had a somewhat cute impression.

The area around the slit at the tip was smeared sticky with the pre-cum that had seeped out.

It was truly an organ made for penetrating a girl, making her feel good, and impregnating her.

Despite being a part of my own body, this shape, so packed with male desire, made my heart race with excitement.

“Haa…♥, haa…♥♥”

My excited breaths echoed in the quiet room.

What should I do?

I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going crazy…♥

I know how to masturbate from books and stuff.

You’re supposed to grip your dick and stroke it, right?

But my right hand had just been hovering, swaying uncertainly, hesitating whether to touch it or not.

Thinking about it carefully, even though I’d touched it while bathing or using the toilet, thoroughly touching my fully erect dick was a first-time experience.

Both my gaze and my hand just wavered back and forth, I couldn’t muster any resolve.

Occasionally, my dick would enter my field of vision, its tip pointing at me, its urethral opening twitching as if urging me, “Hurry, hurry!”

How many times did I think, “This is pointless”?

Finally starting to make up my mind, I slowly brought my fingers closer to my dick.

With my fingertip, I gently touched the shaft.

“Hyaah!?”

The intense heat I felt from my fingertip on my dick made me pull my hand back instinctively.

Maybe it’s natural, since blood had gathered there.

But the dick my finger touched was hot, as if it wasn’t part of my body.

As if that part alone was a separate living creature.

I gulped, then gently touched the tip of my finger to the base of my dick again.

“Ku…♥ Hi, uhh…♥”

The moment my finger touched it, I felt a ticklish sensation, and my dick twitched, bikuri.

Enduring it, when I slid my fingertip tsuu, a pleasurable feeling hidden beneath the ticklishness spread out in waves from the depths of my loins.

“Ha, aahh♥ Nn, uuu…♥♥”

Unintentionally, a faint moan leaked out along with my breath.

Even though it felt good and I couldn’t help it, it was a little embarrassing.

Suddenly anxious that someone might be watching, I grew restless and glanced around.

But of course, I was alone in this room.

Refocusing, I slid my fingertip tsuu, tsuu towards the tip of my dick. The urethral opening quivered, hiku, hiku.

A drop, topuri, of pre-cum oozed out again.

“Ha, au♥ Nn, nuu♥ Feels good…♥”

Panting excitedly, I became engrossed in playing with my dick.

My dick, delighted by the creeping pleasure, trembled biku-biku as if begging for more, more.

Pleased by its reaction, I moved my fingertips a little more boldly.

Each time it trembled with pleasure, I stroked up the pulsating shaft, michi-michi, and traced the slightly sensitive seam on the underside of the glans.

“Ah…♥”

A slippery, nururi, sensation on my fingertip.

Startled, I looked at my dick, my finger had reached the glans.

It smeared the plump droplet of pre-cum that had formed at the slit, nururi, nururi, spreading it around as my finger tickled the glans in circles.

By this point, the pleasure had overpowered the ticklishness, resonating in my hips.

I could feel my dick convulse particularly strongly again, topuri, and more pre-cum overflowed.

For a moment, I thought about my finger getting dirty, but it was too late for that.

On the contrary, my fingertips moved on their own, unconcerned about getting dirty.

Nuryu, nuryu, they kneaded and stimulated the slit, which kept overflowing with pre-cum, rubbing it firmly with the pads of my fingers.

“Fu, hi…♥ Nhiiee…♥”

Every time my slick, pre-cum-coated fingertips slipped, a pathetic voice escaped me.

I’m sure I must be making a really lewd face right now.

Honestly, even if there were a mirror, I wouldn’t want to see my own expression.

After kneading it thoroughly, when I pulled my finger away, a thick, viscous strand of fluid stretched between my finger and my dick.

As I pulled further away, the strand eventually snapped, putsur.

That sight felt incredibly erotic, and I grew unbearably excited.

As if being controlled by someone else, I repeated it over and over, playing with the thick, trailing strands.

“Uuuuuhhh♥♥♥ Higu♥ Hahhi♥♥ Niiihhh…♥♥”

Before I knew it, the fingers tickling my glans had increased to two, then three.

Now, I was kneading the thoroughly slick glans, covering it with all the fingertips of my right hand.

The back of my head felt numb and fuzzy, a paralyzing pleasure welling up more and more.

With every movement of my fingers, piri-piri, chika-chika, sparks seemed to burst like stars.

If it’s like this with just my fingertips, what would happen if I properly gripped it and started stroking…?

That thought crossed my mind, and I glanced at my fingertips softly teasing the glans.

The sensation of her grip when we parted was still vividly etched onto my right hand, unforgettable.

In this state, playing with my dick felt like I was defiling her memory, which was incredibly exciting.

Rather, it was like… using the hand that still held her warmth to pleasure myself.

It was as if… she was doing it to me…

“Nn, haaah…♥ Tonari, san…♥♥”

Uttering her name made the pleasure and sense of immorality spread through me, zowari.

That might have been the final push that cracked my resolve.

Because it felt so good to touch myself, I could feel my mind being rewritten, steering toward forbidden thoughts, again and again.

When I closed my eyes, what floated into my mind was her smiling face, the softness of her body pressed against mine.

And her sweet, lovely scent I smelled up close.

We’d even fed each other cake with our own forks, which meant we’d indirectly kissed.

Well, that makes it okay to use her as “material,” right?

My thoughts ran rampant to that point, and now unable to stop, I found myself firmly gripping my dick and starting to stroke it, shiko shiko.

As a beginner at dick masturbation, my hand moving my own dick was, of course, terribly clumsy.

At first, not knowing how much pressure to use, I tried gripping and stroking it tightly, making it cramp up and hurt a bit.

But even that thought—”Maybe it’s acceptable, like an inexperienced Tonari-san clumsily handling my dick”—showed just how poisoned my mind had become.

“Tonari-san…♥♥ T-To, nari-san…♥♥♥”

Calling out her surname, I stroked my dick, zuri, zuri.

As I got more used to stroking, I gradually began to understand the pleasurable spots and the knack.

My dick seemed satisfied too, continuously drooling pre-cum like saliva.

Naturally, this meant that with every shiko shiko stroke, my hand got dirty, smearing the pre-cum thickly all over my dick.

Now, with every nichi nichi movement of my hand, lewd sounds echoed in the room.

“Nnnnaaau♥ Kuhiiuuuhh♥♥”

Every time my slick, slippery fingertips brushed over the taut, puri-puri ridge of the corona, my hips quivered, biku-biku.

The pre-cum smeared thickly on my palm and dick made wet, sticky sounds—nyuryu nyuryu, nychi nychi—smoothing the movement of my hand.

Finding this pleasurable, my opportunistic dick happily drooled more pre-cum like saliva.

That, in turn, made my hand movements even smoother, and with the newly secreted pre-cum, my dick never knew dryness.

The perfect infinite loop of pleasure was complete.

“Uuuuhh♥♥ Tonari-san…♥♥ More, do it more…♥”

I demanded more, and more, from the imaginary her in my fantasy.

The demands I made on her in my mind kept escalating in intensity.

I wanted her to kiss my dick with those plump lips.

I wanted her to lick it, just like she licked the cake cream off her lips.

If it were allowed, I wanted her to hug me, to take me for herself, to make me submit.

The barrier in my mind finally shattered completely.

“Uuuuhh♥♥ Otoha♥♥ Otohaaaahh♥♥ Nnnuuhhhuuuhhhh♥♥♥”

I was chanting her name like a madwoman as I kept stroking my own dick.

“Uuuuhh♥♥♥ Uuwaaaaahhh♥♥♥ It feels good♥♥♥ Feels so good♥♥♥♥”

For some time after that, I tried all sorts of methods, letting my dick enjoy itself as it pleased.

After gentle, slow strokes, I’d try fast, strong ones.

Gripping it with both hands and thrusting my hips without moving my hands.

Rubbing the constriction below the corona with my fingertips.

Stopping my hand while still gripping it, then pressing my thumb against the glans to torment it.

Stroking with my right hand while covering the glans with my left, petting it softly.

My shameless dick signaled that this felt good, that felt good too.

A fog had settled over my mind, murky, and my thoughts wouldn’t flow properly.

Even without knowing the techniques, by surrendering to my dick’s pleasure, I was getting better and better at playing by myself.

I think it must be the instinct of someone who possesses one.

But this self-taught proficiency was quickly bringing me to my limit.

“Uuughuuu♥♥ Coming♥♥ I’m cominguuuhhh♥♥♥♥”

The base of my dick was boiling hot, gutsugutsu, and a tight, kyun, sensation gripped the depths of my abdomen.

If I had to describe it, it was as if something was prying my dick open from the inside.

A flighty voice escaped me at this new, different kind of pleasure that was distinct from everything before.

I instinctively understood something was coming that was more intense than any prior pleasure.

There was only one thing that could be.

This… this must be… cumming…♥♥♥

I was certain my dick was about to ejaculate, driven by pure desire.

I tried to hold back, even just a little, by tensing my lower abdomen, but it was futile resistance.

The hot semen boiled, gutsugutsu, rising up inside my dick, cornering me bit by bit.

Time felt like it was flowing agonizingly slowly.

But once my dick convulsed, byuguri, it was all over in an instant.

“Cumming♥♥♥ Oto, ha♥♥♥ Cumming♥♥ Cumming, cumminguuuhhh♥♥♥ Otoha♥♥ Cumminguuuhhhuuu♥♥♥♥”

Vyurup♥♥ Vyuruuu♥♥♥♥

Vyururururuupp♥♥ Vyuuuuuuupp♥♥ Vyuuhhuuuhhuu♥♥♥

“Aaaahhaaahhahaahhhaaa—♥♥♥♥ Uuuhhhuuuuhhh♥♥♥♥”

Incomprehensible groans spilled endlessly from my mouth.

My back teeth should have been gritted tight, but they chattered.

With every dopu dopu♥, vyuru vyuru♥ gush of semen, it felt so good I thought the contents of my head were being expelled through the tip of my dick.

There was no stopping this.

Some part of my brain knew I should catch it with something or I’d dirty the floor.

But in the end, I chose to keep stimulating my dick, shiko shiko, even while I came.

The thick, creamy semen spurting out forcefully, vyuru vyuru, was heavier and denser than the slick pre-cum from before.

Vyuguri♥, vyuburi♥, it gushed out, trailed down the shaft, and dripped, botabota, onto the floor.

Of course, it also coated the hand still stroking my dick, making both my hand and dick a sticky mess.

Yet my relentless hand continued, making loud, wet, guchiguchi sounds, prolonging the afterglow of orgasm again and again.

Even after the ejaculation subsided and there was nothing left to release, my dick continued to twitch and convulse, bikubiku, as if dry-firing.

By the time I finally stopped my hand, the floor, my dick, and my hand were all a sticky, filthy mess.

“Haaahhh—♥♥♥ Haaahhh—♥♥♥ Nku♥♥ Hahhi♥♥♥”

My dick still felt a heavy, throbbing sensation at its base. When I gave a firm upward stroke from there, a drop of whitish, paste-like semen, purikuri, formed at the slit.

When I pinched it up with my fingertips, unlike pre-cum, it was thickly sticky, betto, and formed strands between my fingers.

Both in the puddles on the floor and in this single drop, countless sperm must have been swimming.

Which meant, if I irresponsibly came inside a girl, I could impregnate her and turn her life upside down.

Naturally, thinking that far, an image flashed in my mind: her, shyly smiling, lovingly stroking her slightly swollen belly.

That mental image was more than just about dating, it was a far clearer assertion—of making her mine.

“Uuuuhhuuhhhuuu♥♥ Otoha♥♥♥ Otoha, Otohaaa♥♥♥♥”

I began stroking my still rigidly hard dick with renewed ferocity.

It seemed true satisfaction for me, now completely hooked on dick masturbation, was still a long way off.

─────

“Hah, hah…♥ That was… amazing…♥”

The dick that had been so rigidly pointing upward was now slowly, yuruyuru, going limp.

By the time I was finally satisfied, the sun had set completely, and I was too scared to even look at the clock.

Maybe because my mind had finally settled, the fog that had blurred my thoughts cleared away, suu, leaving me feeling refreshed.

What came in exchange, however, was a stark sense of reality and terrible lethargy.

“Uuu… What do I do about this…?”

The sticky semen splattered all over the hardwood floor—just how many times had I come to make this mess?

Looking at my hand, which I’d pulled away from my dick, it was thickly coated with now-drying semen, sticky enough to make a nichari sound, because I hadn’t cared about getting dirty.

The room was filled with a thick, obscene smell.

The raw, musky scent of sex, the evidence of giving in to my own pleasure, made the guilt I’d been avoiding swell up, mukumuku, inside me.

Of course, she has no idea I’m infatuated with her.

Without her knowledge, I defiled her in my mind and pleasured myself.

This is no different from rape.

What kind of face can I possibly show her tomorrow?

That thought alone looped, guruguru, endlessly in my head.

“Haaah…”

This must be the punishment given to the worst version of me.

Thinking that, I heaved my heavy body up and began cleaning the floor I had so thoroughly dirtied.

This was my memory of the day I met Tonari Otoha—the very day I became infatuated with her.