Club Vanilla

Story by srb

http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/srb/www/

Don't read if under 18 or illegal in your little corner of the world, like you'll listen. This should appear only on my site http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/srb/www/ F3, Futanari Palace, Pal's archive site, through Pal's yahoo group, on Pal's Forum... well, it basically should be wherever Pal's stuff is. Also at the Grey Archive, and some other places they might end up, they know who they are.

This is copyright me, so don’t call it yours. Feedback can be left here. I created all the characters, they are all fictional, and any relevance to anyone living or dead, is incidental

This is the first in my attempts to create other stories in the Terra universe, or the Terraverse as I shall continue to call it. This has no bearing on the events of Terra. This story happens later in the history of Terra, roughly a year or so in the future.

This story contains a number of fetishes, which I will catalogue as they come. There is only futa transformation in this chapter.

This chapter contains no sex.

Club Vanilla

Chapter 1

Welcome to Club Vanilla

I don’t know why I decided to go. Part of me wondered if this was nothing more than a tall tale she was spinning on me. I was known at work for being gullible, and they had made a fool out of me more than once. Still, everything that Claire said had been true so far, and while she had picked on me with the others, she had never spun a yarn on me.

It took me a long time to work up the nerve to even get this far. I only went downtown to work since I lived in the nearby suburbs. I didn’t really like the city, I had grown up in a small town and I wasn’t too comfortable with the city and all of its inhabitants. This entire area of the city was foreign to me. I had never gone to the dance club/nightclub area before. I never really liked the other nightclubs I had gone to, the music was too loud and the guys came on too strong and were only interested in sex. Unless you wore skimpy clothes or pushed your breasts out of your dress the guys just passed you over.

Sure, maybe I wasn’t the biggest “playa” at work, but it’s not like I’m a prude or something. I’m just not a slut. That’s the problem, most of the guys only give a damn if you’re slutting it up, and the rest are either gay or in a relationship. And I respect myself enough not to break up a relationship. Of course sense there were so few guys now compared to what it used to be, there wasn’t a big surprise there. Then there were those rumors of the futas…

A lot of women had turned to lesbianism, but I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t made love with a woman, I just always envisioned myself with a man to settle down with. Live a normal life, have a house with three kids, drive them to school before going to the office. Have my husband come home, maybe argue over who makes dinner before deciding to order take out. Watch TV until the kids go to sleep, then make love. It’s not like I wanted to marry a millionaire, or be a famous actress. Just a little happiness.

But I did recognize that it had been almost a year since I had sex. Sure, I had masturbated myself to sleep many a night, but it wasn’t the same. Masturbation was something that you did to yourself; having sex was something you did to, or rather with, someone else. My trusty vibrators had served me well, but I wanted human interaction. I wanted juices and moaning and a body next to me in the morning.

So I looked onto the building, called Club Vanilla. Outside, it looked nice. The front was well lit, but not gaudy like other nightclubs often were. There was a doorman, but interestingly enough, there wasn’t a line. Don’t nightclubs usually have lines? Maybe this one wasn’t too bad then. I drove around the block, looking for a parking spot. I found one only a half a block away, with free parking.

I checked myself out in the mirror once more before I left. I had enough makeup without having too much, and my red dress was nice but not too whorey. The wonder bra helped a lot.

Getting out of the car I grabbed my purse, making sure I knew where I had parked. The area didn’t seem too alive. Now that I think on it, I can’t remember seeing a single other nightclub for at least a couple kilometers. The only place that had lights on was the club, the rest of the street was illuminated only by the street lights.

I had almost made it to the nightclub, before I heard a voice behind me. “Don’t move,” it said from inside of an alley. I stopped dead in my tracks. “Just drop your purse, and I won’t have to hurt you,” said my assailant.

I panicked. I know it’s not the most intelligent thing in the world to do, but I freaked out. I had never been mugged before, never even had someone steal my l

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