The Severance Package 2 - Hitting the Road (futa-female, futa-male, group, fem-fem)

Hitting the Road

A Short Story by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

https://subscribestar.adult/j-k-ermon

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. Everything in this story is imaginary and is not meant to represent any real-life people, events, or medical conditions. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that’s not your thing, or if reading this type of material is unlawful where you reside, don’t read it. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older, even if it seems otherwise for dramatic or narrative purposes. Please enjoy this story responsibly and do not repost without permission.

This story and all accompanying artworks are copyright©2024 J.K. Ermon.

~~~

Part 1: A Reconciled Enemy

“Why are we heading off the interstate?” Melinda asked.

“We’re almost in West Virginia,” answered Connie, changing lanes smoothly onto the exit ramp. “According to the Green Book, there’s a colored-friendly rest stop up ahead, and it’s the last one we’ll get ‘til dinnertime. Also, we need to change our…seating arrangements.”

Melinda was sprawled on her back across the DeSoto’s front seat with her head in Connie’s lap. She had the shotgun window down with her bare feet up on the sill and her toes in the breeze. Her long legs were fully extended and crossed leisurely at the ankles. A brand-new textbook (Temple University Law Review, May 1956) lay open upon her considerable bosom.

She tilted her head back and looked up.

“What’s wrong with our seating arrangement?”

Connie made an exasperated noise. “A colored woman driving a car is conspicuous enough. But sharing the front seat with a white woman?”

“Oh. I see your point.”

“Believe me,” said Connie, “once we’re over that state line, we will want to attract as little attention as possible until we’re safe at the Four Leaf.”

“I still say it would have been quicker to take the Maryland route.”

They’d discussed this, or rather Melinda had suggested it and Connie had flatly refused. They were taking the route of her choosing, westward across Pennsylvania, and then south before Pittsburgh.

“Not an option,” she said.

“Don’t you have family there?”

Connie had to suppress a shudder at the thought of introducing Melinda to her heavy-handed and puritanical father. Not just a white woman, but one of the Hag-Born, and her lover to boot.

“None that I care to visit,” she said shortly.

She bit her lip. She didn’t like being snappish and abrupt with Melinda. It reminded her of when she was a schoolteacher dealing with classrooms full of snarky kids and then later, during the war years, horny GIs. Just prior to her long, thankless stint as a banker’s maid.

Her father was a sore spot with her. He was a minister and hadn’t approved of her going to a secular college. Nor had he ever forgiven her refusing to take her place in his church, or as he put it, ‘the family business.’ It was an ongoing fight that became a lasting estrangement. He had refused to attend her wedding and later, Marvin’s funeral.

She let a hand drift down from the steering wheel and caressed Melinda’s face.

“Believe me,” she said, “the less time we spend south of the Mason-Dixon line, the better.”

Melinda took her hand and kissed it.

“It’s your car, sweetheart.” Her tone told Connie she considered the matter settled.

~~~

They had a late lunch at the truck stop, sitting at separate tables to attract less attention. Melinda filled up a picnic basket with sodas and cold cuts for the road. When they pulled out, Connie was back behind the wheel and Melinda was in the back seat.

“If we get pulled over,” said Connie, “we need to have the same story.”

“All right,” said Melinda with a shrug. “I’m a co-ed debutante and you’re my driver-slash-maidservant.”

“Maidservant?” Connie felt her hackles rise despite herself.

“A lady never travels without her maid.” Her voice ripened into a completely believable Scarlett O’Hara. “I declare, Concordia, sometimes you act like you haven’t the sense the Good Lord gave a grapefruit.”

“You’re on thin ice, missy.” Her schoolteacher voice was back in full force. Oddly, she also felt quite aroused.

Melinda understood that. Her eyes lit with mischief. “Honestly,” she said, drawing out the taunt, “I would have let you go years ago if the blowjobs weren’t so good. The pussy is merely adequate.”

“Oh, you…” Connie saw a rest stop turn-off up ahead and practically careened onto it. The place was deserted, as she’d hoped. It was also unstaffed, save for a few vending machines. The two washroom b

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