This is a work of erotic fiction, which includes graphic sexual situations between women and hermaphrodites. If this offends you, read no further.

A golden-orange sun rose ponderously into the deep green sky, reflecting brilliantly upon the broken metal and glass of the deserted metropolis before her. April had been told by the village elders that once, the sky had been a vibrant blue, but that was before the War. Once, the City had had a life of its own, lighting the night like millions of jewels, but that was before the war. Now the world was healing from the terrible destruction. Villages like hers had appeared in the forests; refugees which had cobbled together old knowledge of agriculture and sanitation.

It had been the elders' decision not to venture into the City for supplies; the radiation, it was said, was still too dangerous, and would be for decades more, though most had dissipated in the century since the war. April had known better. She thought about it now, as she began walking down the broken concrete highway, staring up at the structures towering over her. Certainly, nothing could crawl out of the buildings and harm her; she was the best daggerswielder in her village. That's why she'd come out here on her own, seeking the supplies her village needed, despite the elders' stubborn denials.

Slowly, she looked around the intersection. Stores lined the bases of the towers, advertising so many different things: clothing, a lawyer's services, telephones, pornography, food... But where might she find what her village needed? One of the last lightsticks had burned out last week, and a hammer had broken only yesterday. They needed tools from the old world still, to run the village.

In the distance, she spotted it. A sign that bore the same design as the logo on one of the lightsticks. Ducking inside the store, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the shade, the only light from the sun outside. She made her way through the aisles until she found what she'd been looking for, and a smile crept across her face. Surely, this would absolve her from having snuck out of the village.

Looking around one last time, she took seven of the inch-thick, foot-long black lightsticks. Picking up the last one, she tested it, pressing the rubber button along its length, and a bright beam of light illuminated the store. The light reflected in bright blue unseen eyes, which watched April as she switched it off and pocketed various more tools out of both necessity and curiosity.

As April walked down the broken sidewalk towards the edge of the city, beyond which her village lay, something caught her eye through the window of one of the shops. Suddenly both her daggers were in her hands as she spun around. A woman was in the window, dressed gallantly in one of the most beautiful dresses she'd ever seen... only, there was no head. No arms. The dress fitted the curve of the body perfectly and cascaded in red down around her ankles... which were perfectly white, and perfectly plastic.

April sighed in relief as she sheathed her daggers and studied the mannequin. If she were to be any judge, she'd say that dress would fit perfectly on herself. Given to impulse, she took out a lightstick and opened the door. Across the street, blue eyes watched her enter into the darkness, fixed on her hindquarters, which shimmied inside a pair of tight utility pants.

Minutes later, April had discarded her clothes and was staring at the light, silken red fabric in her hands. She'd never, ever seen such luxurious clothes. Most other girls in her village wore baggy shirts and utility pants, and bound their breasts with strips of cloth to keep them shapely. As she awkwardly slipped into the dress, she noticed that instead of restraining her bosom, the garment accentuated it, wrapping around her slim, athletic body, broadening to fit her hips.

Along the lines of the thought of "Why not? There's still time," she began to try out other clothes. There were some merely to cover her crotch, others draped around her legs with pretty patterns. One type of garment she puzzled over until she figured out they were made to cover the breasts; after trying several on, she decided that a pair marked "30-C" fit her best. Sitting there in the golden light of the lightstick, she reflected on how the elders would never allow her to bring these clothes back into the village... if they let her back in at all, but she really had nothing to lose. If she could not forage for them, there was no place for her there, she'd decided.

That was when she heard a clink. Something had stirred within the department store. Frantically, she swung the light around, edging back towards the end of the aisle where she had discarded her clothes... and her daggers. If she could get to them...

Panic overtook her, and she broke into a run. She rounded the corner turning towards her clothes and pack... and collided with another form, pain blossoming from her nose and forehead as they both collapsed backward with a shout. As she fell unto the subconscious, she could swear the other voice had been female.

Juria's face broke into an honest smile as the stranger came to, her head cradled in her lap. As the dark-haired outsider opened her eyes, Juria brushed back her own golden hair and greeted the other woman with a kiss, full on the lips. The brown eyes widened, and the stranger broke away, a wordless exclamation of surprise and protest on her lips.

Juria frowned. "Why do you scorn the customary Greeting? Are we to be enemies?"

The outsider blinked. She truly was pretty, the blond woman thought, a surge of blood running to her crotch. The brown eyes locked upon hers and the girl spoke uncertainly. "Not... unless you wish it." The girl sat up suddenly. "What time is it?! How long..." Her words tapered off as she looked around. They were in a room, and she was on a raised bed. Moonlight streamed from the window, and a warm glow issued from a candle.

"I am Juria," her pseudo-captor introduced herself in a gentle voice. "This is our home. If you do not know the Greeting, I shall teach you."

"Greeting?" asked the brunette girl, convinced for the moment the blond woman meant no harm. "Well, my name is April, and I'm from a village outs--mmph?!" She was interrupted as Juria kissed her again, pulling her body close with the arms she had snaked around the girl. Again, April turned aside with a vehement protest: "What're you doing?!"

The listeners outside tensed; this young woman did not know the Greeting Ritual, which must happen if two tribes were ever to get along as friends. One of them slipped a Lightning Shock out of their pocket.

Juria caught her eyes and held them with her own hungry, eager gaze. Each second, April's body seemed more and more delectable, as was usual. "Relax, girl," she cooed. "This is how my people greet each other." April blinked. It was an absurd notion, yet there Juria's hand was, sensually gliding up her stomach to expertly unfasten the breast-restraining garment she was still wearing, revealing the nipples which, despite the suddenness of her "greeting", were quickly hardening.

And then she could only sigh, her eyes closing involuntarily as the blonde woman's lips closed around one of them, the tongue flicking them sending little shocks of unsolicited pleasure through her chest and contributing to a growing warmth in her crotch. Her clit had never felt so swollen, but she gave it little heed as Juria, as she called herself, kissed her again on the lips. This time she found she couldn't protest. Instead, she kissed back as she felt the blonde woman's delicate fingers playing over her nipples.

As they broke the kiss, Juria gazed down at her with a wild, yet gentle lust, and April stared back up in complete confusion. Juria giggled. "Wherever you're from... it must be so dull, if you do not greet as we do."

April smiled back; Juria's giggle was infectuous. She felt peaceful, even in this strange, potentially dangerous place. "Show me more," was all she said, before Juria turned, her eyes hungrily following the curves of the body lying below her, to the crotch, covered with a skimpy garment from the department store. Puzzled, the blonde woman gingerly touched the crotch, causing April to whimper, surprising them both.

Juria blinked, and looked back up at April, bewildered. "You don't have..." she began, before sliding the garment down April's slender legs. There lay the girl's cunny, glistening slightly in the candlelight. Something very obvious was missing. "You don't have... one of these..." Juria sat up on her knees, and pulled down her own garment, one of the flowing ones that hung around the legs. Her own panties were distended by a phallic bulge which reached up to her waistline, the cameltoe in-between her thighs and wet patch surrounding it leaving little to the imagination.

Now it was April's turn to be bewildered. Curiously, she sat up, and driven by the need to know, she carefully lifted the elastic waist up over what she then identified as... a penis. Something boys had, and girls didn't, yet here Juria was, a buxom woman with breasts larger than April's own, and a cunny between her legs... at the base of a hard, throbbing cock.

"It's... real?" April asked quite foolishly as she gingerly touched the sensitive tip. Immediately, Juria reacted with a short gasp, nodded, and wrapped one of her hands around it.

"How can... you not have one? Doesn't everyone, at least at your age?" Juria's question went unanswered as she bent to examine April's crotch. Suddenly, she ducked her head and licked the slit, from the bottom to the engorged bump at the top, at which April gave a soft moan, falling lightly back on the pillows. Blinking curiously, the blonde woman gave that bump another lick, eliciting another, slightly more urgent moan from the younger woman. "Maybe you do..." Juria mused to herself.

Gently, she began pleasuring April the way she would one of her own kind, excepting the thick shaft that was absent from this girl, eliciting all kinds of whimpers and moans from the girl, whose mind was racing with the pleasure she was recieving, her body writhing against the sheets as her body became sticky and slippery with a sheen of sweat. The eager tongue writhing so pleasurably inside her was bringing her more than she'd imagined; it felt even better than experimenting with Johan, the boy from the village. Juria's hands were not idle; they snaked their way across April's body, the fingertips leaving trails which seemed to burn. No, she was burning. Her veins felt as if fire were coursing through them.

And then Juria was straddling her. She knew it not by the weight on top of her but by the absence of that delightful tongue on her crotch, and the presence of something bigger... and broader, and harder. Her eyes opened, and caught Juria's staring into them. Juria's lips were parted in joy and lust, mirroring in part the rapture in April's face. Juria ducked to plant a sensual kiss on April's neck... and eased her throbbing member inside.

April thrust her head back, crying out at the initial pain, and building pleasure. Her breath was taken by the hot rod that was pushing so far into her. "Oh my gods," she gasped, as each inch after inch filled her more than she thought possible. It ached so, because she had never had anything so big inside her - Juria's warm, hard shaft made the other village boys seem miniscule - but it was a delicious ache, one that slowly started to transmute itself into pleasure.

"So tight," Juria moaned into April's lovely neck as she began to pull her hips back, but April's legs wrapped around her, knowing what the girl wanted better than she did herself. With Juria's next thrust, the pain had all but subsided, and a warm hunger spread through her, making her throat dry and her nipples turgid. April wrapped her arms around Juria's back, unable to bring forth words of encouragement from the turmoil in her mind, through which pleasure shot with each thrust. Her back arched, and her body began to writhe violently as her hips began to thrust up to meet Juria's. With each thrust, a fevered, impassioned "yes!" escaped her lips.