You head home.

Your underwear was quickly getting soaked as her spunk leaked from your slightly gaping asshole and your legs felt shaky beneath you. You are in no condition to go anywhere. You turn away from the bus stop and decide to head back to your apartment. You tell yourself you never want to see that woman again but something in the depths of your heart disagrees.

You felt confused as you made your way home attracting some odd looks as you limped slightly and constantly had to readjust your pants which felt squishy and uncomfortable. You had just been ****. Knocked down by a total stranger and fucked until they were satisfied. You should feel dirty, violated, scared or panicky. You didn't. You felt oddly satisfied. As if some cosmic function you hadn't known about were just fulfilled. A part of you was glad to have made that woman happy, a part of you was looking forward to it happening again. And you couldn't for the life of you make yourself angry or uncomfortable with that part of yourself or make it go away. You didn't like thinking about this. You tried to distract yourself.

'So that was a futanari?' You thought to yourself instead. You had heard of them before. Something like a tenth of the population were either woman born with larger than average dicks or men born with exceptionally tight cunts. But you had never met one before. At least you think you hadn't. Statistically you must've at some point. But you had only ever managed to date one girl long enough to see her naked and she hadn't had a dick.

Supposedly futas had a higher than average sex drive too and most preferred to top men rather than go after other girls. You guessed that must be true from what had happened but you hadn't heard of many futa rapists before. Then again you hadn't heard about many men getting **** before either except maybe in prisons or as kids to real perverts. Maybe most men have a much easier time fighting off their attackers. You aren't the strongest man in the world, but before you were knocked down and taken advantage of you would've guessed you were strong enough to fight off a woman like that but you hadn't even tried.

Maybe it had been the shock of what was happening. Maybe deep down inside you had enjoyed getting eaten out too much to try and interrupt her. Maybe some part of yourself just refused to hit girls after that one time your father had taken the belt to your ass after you played a little too rough with one of the neighborhood girls. You shook your head not wanting to think about this either since it made that small part of your mind pipe up and say that you were meant to be fucked by futas.

The crowd hadn't done anything either. Maybe it had been something about her. Maybe you had run into some kind of witch who could make people accept what ever she did to someone else as natural and unavoidable. You didn't know. You didn't get it. All you wanted was to get home and forget this whole thing ever happened.

Eventually you made it back to your apartment building. You unlocked the front door with your pass key and made your way up to your home. As you unlocked the door to your apartment someone left from a door further up the hall and started to walk past you. You looked up and saw the little brunette chick who was one of your neighbors. You think her name was like Barbra or something? You had only spoken to her once or twice before in passing.

She was a head shorter than you, with a slender frame, perky A cup breasts and shoulder length hair. You think she must've been a goth chick when she was younger cause she had several rings in her ears and on her lips, she tended to wear heavy eye liner and occasionally black lipstick. Today she wore a black and purple stripped tank top and as usual quite baggy cargo pants. You gave her the best smile you could manage as she walked past you and she nodded in response before a slightly odd look crossed her face. As you made your way into your apartment and closed the door behind you, your thought you saw her pause a few steps beyond your door before looking back at you somewhat concerned.

You wanted nothing more than to change your clothes and throw yourself into a shower before trying to sleep away the rest of the day, but you had been on your way into work before all this happened. You owed it to your boss to let her know you wouldn't be making it in today. You spotted your phone which you had left out on the couch and walked over to grab it, and then called your boss. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

"John?" She asked with a note of concern in her voice. "What's going on? Are you feeling alright or just running late?"

"Actually I am feeling a bit under the weather, Debra." You said in response doing your best to make your voice sound raspy. You actually liked your boss Debra and didn't like having to lie to her but you certainly weren't going to tell her you had been **** by a futanari on the way into work and were now having a slight crisis since you kind of enjoyed it. "I don't think I'm going to make it in."

"I'm sorry to hear that John." She said in acceptance. "I'll deduct today from your sick leave. You take care of yourself and go see a doctor if you can."

"Thanks Deb." You said in response. "I'll try and make it in tomorrow."

"I'll see you later John." She concluded and hung up. With your responsibilities out of the way you could finally just relax, but then a knock at the door interrupted you.

With a weary sigh you made your way to the door to see who it was. 'Would this day just not ends already?' You wondered. If it was your landlord talking about some supposed building violation you might well scream.

It wasn't your landlord. It was Barbra. She looked up at you with concern written all over her face. She spoke quickly.

"John right?" She asked to confirm your name, you nodded in response. "Are you alright? You look kind of roughed up, did something happen?"

Had she really paused her day just to check up on you? That's kind of sweet. You supposed you must look quite a sight. Your clothes were rumpled, your hair was in disarray, there were rough spots on your arms and face where the concrete had rubbed against you as you were pounded into the dirt. Your first instinct was deny that anything had happened but you were so touched that someone had finally noticed you that you decided to be sort of honest.

"I've been better." You said in response. Odd, did her pupils just dialate when you spoke? "I kind of got attacked on the way into work today. It wasn't too bad, but I guess I'm kind of shaken up about it."

"Oh no!" She cried with true compassion for you in her voice. "That's so terrible. Who could ever hurt someone as sweet as you. Is there anything I can do? I know there is. Let me come in and take care of you."

She certainly seems worried about you.