Fixing The Sink

Story by jokermon

Yeah, I know, the plumber who comes to fix the sink is a tired porn cliche, but that was the challenge I set for myself. Nothing nasty here, just futa-female with some very mild incestuous innuendo.

Fixing The Sink

A Short Story by jokermon

This is a piece of erotic fantasy fiction. It features 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. If you are not old enough to read adult material according to your local laws, don't read

it. This story is not meant to reflect actual people, events or medical conditions.

Lena was in the tub when her boyfriend Richard called to cancel their anniversary dinner.

“Oh, damn it,” she wailed as she snapped her cell phone shut and stood there on the fluffy bath mat, dripping and seething.

This always happens. Does he think I’m unattractive or something?

She knew this was nonsense, even as she thought it. The twentyish, fuming woman in the mirror was a technical knockout. Her body (now artfully concealed by soap suds) was big and curvy in certain places, (the right places, the men in her life fervently assured her) slim and tight elsewhere. Her mane of gold-filtered chestnut curls shone with health and, when properly conditioned and blow-dried, tumbled over the bare-shoulder tops she favored in a flirty cascade. Her butt was fuller than those of the models in Allure or Cosmo, certainly, but she liked the way it filled out her skirts and jeans with what her mother called oomph.

Her mother, a tipsy dear of a retired fashion model, would often slur, don’t you listen to those diet freaks, Lennie. A girl can never have too much oomph. She would often follow up such a comment with an approving smack to the oomph in question.

This embarrassed the hell out of Lena during her adolescence whenever she did it in front of Lena’s friends, but it also secretly pleased her. Her mother’s appreciation of her fleshy curviness was hearty and genuine. That positive body-image, so rare in the offspring of famously skinny parents, sank into Lena and gave her confidence. Moreover, despite her indignant protests, she took an unspoken delight in her beautiful mother’s occasional bouts of inappropriate touching. Before she retired at 40, her mother was a very busy woman, frequently gone for long periods on photo shoots and international ad campaigns, and Lena cherished the attention whenever it was lavished it upon her.

Her mother would pat her behind, and even heft and squeeze her growing breasts (which surpassed her mother’s at 14). “My God, Lennie,” she would say, bouncing them reverently in her palms, “these are magnificent!”

She was sure her mother didn’t mean anything by it; beneath her cool supermodel sophistication she was just a very earthy and touchy-feely woman. Lena enjoyed it all the same.

All told, she gauged, looking in the mirror, any man would be thrilled to have her. So why was it so damn hard to hook up with her own boyfriend?

Richard, all six foot seven gorgeous-brainy inches of him, had a career in computer systems that consumed much of his time, almost as much as Lena’s hectic livelihood in publishing did hers. She understood that being a Mainframe Specialist wasn’t easy, and occasionally system emergencies did happen, but she had been looking forward to this romantic night out all week. She’d even diddled herself a little in the tub (well, more than a little, truth be told), enjoying the anticipation and the way her own heat rose to match the steaming bathwater. And just when she’d gotten all trembly and excited toward the finale, the phone rang. Now everything was ruined.

She yanked the plug on her bath, rinsed, and dried off. She gave the bathroom door an angry slam on her way out and it sprang open again, which just aggravated her bad mood. She’d been putting off repairing that lock for a while now. She didn’t like being reminded of it at a time like this.

Her new cocktail dress, silky, daring and now useless, lay spread out upon the bed. It almost made her weep to hang it up, unworn, back in the closet. She had been looking forward to wearing it almost as much as having Richard remove it later. In Lena&#82

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