Daria lived in a house with her mother and sister in Metarie. The yard was was much like its neighbors. It was neat, with some azaleas by the front porch, and an oak tree by the street. It was completely unremarkable. Daria liked the ordinary quality of her life. It comforted her. Daria lived just like any 22 year old woman. But Daria wasn’t a woman. Like her mother, Daria was a futanari. In additiona to a vagina, her clitoris formed a penis, and she had a tiny set of testicles too. Futanari composed less than 2% of the population in the United Stses, but they were closer to 5% in the New Orleans area. To Daria, her dual nature was simply who she was. She had learned early on to keep this part of herself hidden, not out of shame, but out of a desire to avoid the awkward questions and problems that often came with revelation.

Daria had grown accustomed to the peculiarities of her body, including the lengthening of her penis after each orgasm. She learned about this unusual trait during her teens. She didn’t consider it exceptional. Male, female, and futanari each matured in their own way. She had been curious and confused at first, but like most futanari she was taught that masterbation was to be avoided, just like sex was. Of course, all futanari did it anyway. They just had to be careful not to enjoy themselves more than about once a week.

Sex education classes had hammered into everyone’s brain that futa semen was dangerous, but they wren’t told exactly how. Classes implied that it could cause disease, but rumors swirled around that it was addictive. Since then, Daria had been meticulous in her precautions. She limited her masturbation, always using protection. Yet, despite her careful measures, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt each time she felt the desire, the longing for more. Daria sighed, pushing the unwanted thoughts aside as she heard the front door creak open. “I’m home!” her sister, Lily, called out, her voice echoing through the house. Lily, a cisgender woman, was three years younger than Daria, with a warmth and openness that Daria both envied and admired. She was a stark contrast to their mother, who was also a futanari but had chosen to hate her dual nature.

Their mother, Amelia, was in the kitchen, humming a tune as she prepared dinner. She looked up with a loving expression as Lily and Daria entered. “Hello, my darlings,” she greeted, her voice as warm as the smile on her face. “How was your day?”

Lily launched into a tale of her day at junior college, her hands gesturing animatedly. Amelia listened, her gaze occasionally flicking to Daria, who had retreated to her usual spot at the table. She knew that look, the one that said, “I see you, I know you’re doing something you shouldn’t.” Amelia judged Daria harshly, especially when it came to sexual matters or anything to do with her body.

After dinner, Lily retired to her room, leaving Daria and Amelia alone in the living room. Amelia turned to Daria, “Daria,” she began, “I know you’ve been masturbating again.”

Daria’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing pink. She had been careful, or so she thought, to make sure her mother didn’t find out. She only masterbasted in the shower, or quietly in her bed on Sunday nights. “How do you know?” she said irritatedly, her gaze shifting to the floor.

Amelia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I can smell it, Daria,” she said gently, “Futanari semen has a distinct scent, remember?”

Daria felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She had forgotten about that detail, or perhaps she had simply hoped her mother wouldn’t notice. She didn’t really smell the odor of her own ejaculate. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. “I know I shouldn’t have, but- but I couldn’t help it.”

Amelia’s expression softened, her anger replaced by a look of concern. “It’s not about helping it or not. It’s about controlling it, managing it.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “You know what happens when you don’t, don’t you?”

Daria nodded, her mind flashing back to the times she had lost control. When she was 14 she had masturbated several times a week and her penis had grown from it’s normal 3 inches to almost 6 inches. After her mother had found out about it, Amelia made Daria undress each night before she took a shower so Amelia could measure her penis. Even after it had shrunk back to 3 inches, Amelia had continued measuring it each night for months. After that there were still periodic length measurements and inspections of the skin that lasted several minutes, to ensure Daria wasn’t “abusing herself”.

Daria excused herself, retreating to the sanctuary of her room. As she lay in bed, she couldn’t shake off the guilt and worry that gnawed at her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the world, but sleep was elusive. Hours passed, and just as she was on the brink of sleep, she heard it - a soft, rhythmic noise coming from her mother’s room. Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. She listened, holding her as the noise grew louder. It was the unmistakable sound of someone pleasuring themselves, the bed creaking softly with each movement. Daria was shocked in disbelief. She knew that sound, had heard it before. She sat up in bed, her mind racing. Should she go to her mother, confront her about it? Or should she pretend she hadn’t heard anything, let her mother keep her secrets? The decision was taken out of her hands when the noises suddenly stopped, replaced by a soft, choked-off moan. Daria waited. Daria’s heart raced as she made up her mind. She had to know the truth. Quietly, she slipped out of her bed and tiptoed towards her mother’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see the dim glow of the bedside lamp spilling out. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Her mother, Amelia, was sprawled on the bed, her body bare and glistening with sweat. Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. But it was what was between her legs that caught Daria’s attention and held it. There, where she expected to see nothing but her mother’s public hair, or perhaps the tiny head of a penis, was a huge cock. It was enormous; at least twelve inches long. It lay heavy and thick on her mother’s abdomen. Amelia’s tummy and chest were covered in splashes of ejaculation, which reflected the light from the lamp.

Daria’s mind raced, trying to process what she was seeing. She had always known her mother was a futanari, but she had never seen her like this. She had never seen her mother’s penis before, let alone one that was so large. She felt a mix of shock and irritation. How could her mother, who was always so stern with her about controlling her urges, indulge in this wreckless behavior? She hadn’t even used a condom. She had let the result of her uncivilized behavior fly all over. The hypocrisy stung, and Daria’s cheeks flushed with anger. She opened her mouth to speak, to confront her mother about this double standard, but the words caught in her throat as Amelia’s eyes opened.

Amelia’s gaze landed on Daria, and for a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Then, Amelia smiled, a soft, almost sad smile that caught Daria off guard. “I see you’ve found out.” she said nonchalantly. Daria nodded, her eyes flicking to the penis still lying heavily on her mother’s thigh.

“Why do you get on to me about this, but you’re allowed to pleasure yourself all you want?”

Amelia’s smile faded, replaced by a look of seriousness. “It’s not that I get to do this.” she said, her voice steady. “It’s that I have to.” Daria’s eyes narrowed, confusion and anger warring within her.

“What do you mean, you have to?” she demanded.

Amelia’s expression darkened, her anger flaring up like a wildfire. “I mean, Daria, that your actions have consequences!” she snapped, sitting up in bed, her voice echoing in the room. Semen began dripping from Amelia’s breasts onto her lap. The semen on her stomach ran toward her crotch. “Your lack of control is not an isolated incident. It affects me, too. You know the connection we share. When a futa becomnes aroused, the scent causes arousal in people around her, especially her family members. When you can’t control your urges, it sets off a chain reaction. It’s like a dam breaking, and I’m left to deal with the flood.”

Daria recoiled as if she had been struck, her anger momentarily forgotten. “I ... I didn’t realize how much you were affected,” she stammered, her eyes wide with shock and realization. “I thought ... I thought it was just me.”

Amelia scoffed, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “It’s not just you, Daria. It’s both of us. Every time you let your desires get the better of you, it’s like a call to action for me. It’s like I’m a puppet, and you’re pulling my strings.”

“I promise I’ll do better.” Daria said apologetically.

“Let me see it.” her mother demanded, as she had so many times before.

Daria pulled down her pajamas and walked forward, so her body was in the light. Her little clit-dick was its usual 3 inches, and barely thicker than a platic straw.

“Come closer. My eyes aren’t as young as yours.” Amelia said. Daria approache and her mother took her penis, twisting it one way and then another, inspecting it carefully. A drop of seme clung to one of her mother’s knuckles. “it looks like you have been restraining yourself decently well. That’s good.” Her mother released her member and Daria concealed it again.

Daria went back to bed, but still couldn’t sleep. She kept blaming herself for screwing things up. But she wondered why her mother’s penis was so much larger than her own. Did penises grow with age, no matter what a futa did. As she thought about these things, she heard some sort of muffled sounds coming from her mother’s room. She must be cleaning herself up, Daria thought.

The next morning, Daria descended the stairs, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on her mind. The house was filled with the usual morning bustle, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen. Her younger sister, Lily, was already seated at the table, her blonde hair a wild mess, and her eyes glued to her tablet.

Amelia was at the stove, her back to Daria, her movements stiff. Daria watched her, remembering the sight from the night before, and felt a shiver run down her spine. She took her seat next to Lily, her eyes watching her mother’s hands as they set a plate of pancakes on the table. Daria kept picturing the drop of semen on Amelia’s right hand from last night. It seemed to Daria that Amelia’s hands lingered on Lily’s shoulders, her fingers brushing through her hair in an affectionate way that she didn’t use with Daria. But there was something else there; something that made Daria’s eyes narrow.

“Morning, Daria,” Amelia said, her voice steady and calm, as if last night had never happened. “Lily, put your tablet away. It’s breakfast time.” Amelia still spoke to Lily as if she were 14 instead of 19 years old. It was no wonder that Lily still lived like she was 14. College had replaced high school, but other than that, Lily’s personality seemed stuck.

Lily grumbled and did as she was told, her eyes darting to Daria. Daria shifted her eyes from Lily to her mother. Lily’s eyes widened as she noticed a distinct bulge in the front of Amelia’s pants. She had seen it before, in the aftermath of her own uncontrolled episodes, but this time, it was different. It was noticeable, even through the loose-fitting robe her mother was wearing. Daria felt her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing with fear Lily might notice. Od course Lily was a woman now. Hopefully she had seen penises by now, but it was different becaise it was their mom. Daria pushed her chair back, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh noise that made both Amelia and Lily jump.

“Daria, what’s wrong?” Amelia asked, but Daria was already storming out of the kitchen. She grabbed her bag from the hallway, her hands shaking. She needed to get out of there to clear her head. She needed to go to work. She needed to leave.

As she reached for the car door handle, something caught her eye. A movement by the window of the living room. She turned, surprised to see her mother, Amelia, standing by the open window which faced the fence. Amelia’s hand was moving rhythmically, her body swaying slightly with each movement. Daria’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was seeing.

Amelia was masturbating, her hand moving under the loose robe, her body tensing and releasing with each stroke. Daria felt a wave of shock and disgust wash over her. How could her mother do this, so brazenly, so openly? And in the middle of the day, with the window wide open? The hypocrisy of it and the danger was uncomprehendable to her. Daria tore her eyes away, her face red. She slid into her car, slamming the door shut, and sped off, leaving her mother’s blatant disregard for decency behind. The drive to work was a blur of red lights and honking horns. Daria’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and rage. How could Amelia do this? How could she act this way, and then expect Daria to just accept it; to just understand?

Work was a welcome distraction, the mundane tasks of her job allowing her to push the thoughts of her mother to the back of her mind. She threw herself into her work, taking on extra tasks, anything to keep her occupied. The hours ticked by, and before she knew it, it was time to go home.

As she pulled into the driveway, she noticed the living room light was on, the flickering glow of the television visible through the window. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of home greeting her. She could hear the muffled sound of the TV, the theme music of Lily’s favorite show filtering through the house.

She hung her bag on the hook by the door and stepped into the living room. The sight that greeted her made her freeze in her tracks. There, on the couch, was Amelia, her eyes fixed on the television, her hands moving rhythmically, not on herself this time, but on Lily. Daria’s heart pounded in her chest as she took in the scene. Lily was curled up against her mother, her eyes focused forward, a soft moan escaping her lips. Amelia’s hands moved from Lily’s hair, down her neck, to her back, and then the top of Lily’s butt. The petting did not seem innocent to Daria.

Daria felt a surge of revulsion and protectiveness. She stepped forward, her voice shaking with anger and disgust. “What the hell are you doing, mom?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she watched her mother’s hands still, but not pull away from Lily.

Amelia turned to look at Daria with mild interest, but her face was calm and collected, as if she had been expecting this confrontation. “Daria,” she said, her voice steady and calm, “what are you talking about.”