Experiences

By Francis W. Porretto

The second novel of the Futanari Saga:
A neurophysiologist develops a technique for altering human desires...
A college strictly for futanari finds its protective obscurity threatened...
A romance novelist becomes the emotional target of a young transwoman...
A young American genius unknowingly courts a futanari from distant China...
A Japanese sex slaver whose business was destroyed by an American security company seeks vengeance...

Once again, Father Raymond Altomare, pastor of Onteora County, has his hands full.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Francis W. Porretto
• Release date: Apr 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005322878

Francis W. Porretto

Francis W. Porretto was born in 1952. Things went steadily downhill from there.Fran is an engineer and fictioneer who lives on the east end of Long Island, New York. He's short, bald, homely, has bad acne and crooked teeth. His neighbors hold him personally responsible for the decline in local property values. His life is graced by one wife, two stepdaughters, two dogs, four cats, too many power tools to list, and an old ranch house furnished in Early Mesozoic style. His 13,000 volume (and growing) personal library is considered a major threat to the stability of the North American tectonic plate.Publishing industry professionals describe Fran's novels as "Unpublishable. Horrible, but unpublishable all the same." (They don't think much of his short stories, either.) He's thought of trying bribery, but isn't sure he can afford the $3.95.Fran's novels "Chosen One," "On Broken Wings," "Shadow Of A Sword," "The Sledgehammer Concerto," "Which Art In Hope," "Freedom's Scion," "Freedom's Fury," and "Priestesses" are also available as paperbacks, through Amazon. Check the specific pages for those books for details.Wallow in his insane ranting on politics, culture, and faith at "Liberty's Torch:" http://www.libertystorch.info/And of course, write to him, on whatever subject tickles your fancy, at [e-mail]

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Francis W. Porretto

Experiences

A tale of the Futanari

Novels by Francis W. Porretto:

The Realm of Essences Series:

Chosen One

On Broken Wings

Shadow Of A Sword

Polymath

Statesman

The Spooner Federation Saga:

Which Art In Hope

Freedom’s Scion

Freedom’s Fury

The Futanari Series:

The Athene Academy Collection

Innocents

Experiences

The Wise and the Mad

In Vino

The Aeolian Fantasies:

The Warm Lands

Other novels:

The Sledgehammer Concerto

Priestesses

Love In The Time Of Cinema

Antiquities

The Discovery Phase

Copyright © 2018 by Francis W. Porretto

Cover art by Cat Leonard (http://catleonardart.com)

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without the express written permission of the author, except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. The persons and events described here are entirely imaginary. They are not intended to suggest or imply anything whatsoever about actual persons or events.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All locations and institutions are employed fictitiously.

Contact: [e-mail]

To Beth

To Amy Bowersox

And, as always,

To the greater glory of God

And early in the morning Jesus came again into the temple, and all the people came to him, and sitting down he taught them. And the scribes and the Pharisees bring unto him a woman taken in adultery: and they set her in the midst, And said to him: Master, this woman was even now taken in adultery. Now Moses in the law commanded us to stone such a one. But what sayest thou? And this they said tempting him, that they might accuse him.

But Jesus bowing himself down, wrote with his finger on the ground. When therefore they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said to them: He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again stooping down, he wrote on the ground. But they hearing this, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest. And Jesus alone remained, and the woman standing in the midst.

Then Jesus lifting up himself, said to her: Woman, where are they that accused thee? Hath no man condemned thee? Who said: No man, Lord. And Jesus said: Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more.

—John 8:2-11—

Mid-afternoon Friday, April 20, 2029

Rachel MacLachlan had powered down all her apparatus, had dismissed her staff, and was preparing to go home for the weekend. The appearance of a camera crew at the front door of her Grand Avenue clinic took her completely by surprise.

Yes, gentlemen?

The man carrying the microphone moved to one side and edged into the lobby of the MacLachlan Clinic for Desire Dysfunction. She turned automatically to remain facing him. He smiled and thrust the mike directly at her as his cameraman angled his camera to get an optimal shot of their exchange.

Dr. Rachel MacLachlan?

I am.

"Dennis Addison of the Onteora Register. This is Phil Wolsey, my cameraman. If you have a few minutes, we’d love to talk to you about your clinic, the work it does, and how you foresee your therapy being used in the immediate future."

Rachel was momentarily confused.

Why is my clinic of interest to you, Mr. Addison? It’s only been operating for two months. We haven’t even had a visit from the county health inspectors.

Addison smiled in that practiced way the professional interviewer uses to deflect a question he’d prefer not to answer. I’m subject to the whims and vagaries of my editorial staff, Doctor. I seldom get to choose the topics I’m assigned to cover. But if you could indulge us for a few minutes, we might be able to get you some valuable publicity. You do charge for your therapies, don’t you?

Yes...

Then a story that would announce them to a mass audience and praise them for their efficacy would be to your advantage, wouldn’t it? The fixed smile never wavered. For example, it’s been suggested that your technique could relieve impulses such as homosexuality and gender dysphoria. Imagine how many new clients that announcement could bring you, to say nothing of how many young people struggling with such desires might benefit.

Rachel forced herself to remain calm.

This is a setup. He’s the reporter that tried to torpedo Sumner by attacking his bodyguard. But he’s already got me on camera. If I give him the bum’s rush, he’ll use it to excite public suspicion that I’m doing something nefarious. That would make an even juicier story than whatever he might get by interviewing me.

She strove to rationalize admitting the reporter and his cameraman to the clinic. She tried her best to see it as publicity for a highly positive development that no one, regardless of his agenda, could possibly criticize. She assured herself that she could control the direction of the interview, could skirt any loaded questions, could deflect any hostile imputations. She told herself that the gains, both to her and to potential clients, would heavily outweigh any negative consequences.

The mind of Rachel MacLachlan operated at an extraordinary speed. She spent less than half a second addressing and analyzing all the For arguments before she smiled and said I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Addison, but I have no interest in becoming a subject of the media’s scrutiny.

She herded Addison and his cameraman out the door and closed it in their faces.

#

This is a dream come true!

Holly Martinowski had been about to autograph the copy of Unashamed the speaker handed her when the petite young woman’s effulgent praise burst forth. She looked up with a pleased smile.

Thank you, dear. It’s frightfully pleasant to meet fans like you, here in the States. She winked. Until I arrived and met a few of you, I had no idea I was being read here.

The young woman grimaced comically. "Are you kidding? You have a million readers here. And for what it’s worth, I think Unashamed is going to get you a million more."

The line behind the speaker extended to the front doors of the bookstore, and Holly had only until six PM for her signing. Yet she was piqued by the comment. Why is that, dear?

Heidi, the young woman said. The first transgender protagonist ever to appear in a best seller. She giggled. We’ve been waiting for a major novelist to feature one of us.

That brought Holly’s eyebrows up. You’re transgender?

The girl nodded. You couldn’t tell, could you?

Holly regarded her with full attention.

The young woman was short and delicately built. Neither her face nor her hands betrayed her genetic masculinity. She was dressed in a figure-flattering winter-white skirt suit and high-heeled pumps. Her abundant chestnut-brown hair floated fetchingly around her face. Her makeup was perfect for the daylight hours. Whether the makeup concealed the remnants of a man’s facial hair, Holly could not say.

I had no idea. On impulse, Holly rose and extended her hand. The young woman took it. What’s your name, dear?

Irene Carroll.

Holly turned to the flyleaf of the young woman’s copy of Unashamed, wrote For Irene, with love, Holly Martins in her best hand, and closed the cover. Well, Irene, she murmured, if you can wait until I’ve cleared what remains of this line, we can have dinner together. Would you like that?

You bet! The girl’s expression became nova bright. She stepped out of the line. Holly handed her book back to her.

Mustn’t forget this, dear.

Not ever!

#

Amanda Hallstrom had never before faced an unsolicited applicant for admission to Athene Academy. For nineteen years, every one of Athene’s enrollees had been scouted by its field agents and encouraged to apply. Yet she’d known it would happen some day. Still, she’d expected that that day would not come until the college had publicly proclaimed its existence and the special, entirely non-academic qualification Athene demanded of its students...and of course, that the applicant would be aware of it.

She certainly hadn’t expected that the first applicant to arrive unheralded would be a young man.

Daniel Loring was as bright, as articulate, and as self-possessed as any teenager of Amanda’s acquaintance. His tall, trim good looks were well set off by the white broadcloth dress shirt, brown slacks, and navy blue blazer he wore. His brown oxfords gleamed with fresh polish. His pleasant smile suggested neither anxiety nor arrogance. He seemed completely at his ease.

Mr. Loring, she said in a carefully neutral tone, from what you’ve told me of your grades and other involvements, there must be dozens of fine schools eager to have you. Surely you’ve received the usual flurry of promotional packets from colleges better known than Athene?

Loring nodded. Yes, I have. Nearly a hundred of them this past year.

That’s no surprise. Well, what, pray tell, brought you to our doorstep?

I only recently learned of Athene, from three of your students. I was surprised to find a baccalaureate-granting school that I’d never heard of situated in Onteora County. A school with no website and not one mention Google could find, at that. Loring’s smile grew fractionally brighter. I’d been looking for a good one that would allow me to stay close to home.

And SUC Onteora didn’t meet your requirements?

He shook his head. They don’t have the best faculty for what I intend to study.

Which is...?

Mathematics.

Oh dear.

Would you mind telling me which of our students you met, and where?

Loring’s brow wrinkled briefly. He shrugged. Wednesday evening at the Foxwood Library. Ching-nien Chen, Sue Perrine, and Sofia Kozlovski.

The chess club. Did you become well acquainted with them?

Moderately so. We played some chess and chatted for a bit about math and colleges. When the talk turned to Athene I became intrigued.

What was it that particularly caught your interest?

The small size. The standards. The strong emphasis on the sciences. He grinned. It certainly didn’t hurt to encounter three lovely young ladies who are all so intelligent, charming, and skilled at the chessboard. He sat forward. May I have a look at the rest of the facilities?

Mr. Loring...

Amanda’s distress must have shown in her body language. Loring’s expression darkened.

Is there some qualification I lack, Dean Hallstrom?

He doesn’t expect to be turned away. Probably he’s never failed to qualify for anything before this.

There’s no evading it.

Mr. Loring, all our students are young women.

Loring’s expression went from suspicion to shock.

Athene is a one-sex school? he said. I thought they were against the law.

Not quite, Mr. Loring. For a college to accept only one sex is still legal, as long as it doesn’t accept state or federal funds. To keep Athene within the letter of the law, our students must be able to pay for their educations without any such funding. Any student who comes here must agree to that beforehand. That way we can remain single-sex, which is a requirement of our endowment.

Loring sat silent and motionless for a long moment.

He’s probably never been turned down for anything before. It must come as a blow, especially as he’s apparently serious about staying in Onteora.

That’s disappointing, he said at last.

Amanda nodded. I can imagine. And believe me when I say that from your academic record, your extra-curricular activities, and your exemplary manners, if you met our other requirements we’d love to have you here. But I’m sure you can see—

Yes, of course. He rose and held out a hand. She rose and took it. Thank you for your time, Dean Hallstrom.

He closed the door of her office gently behind him.

#

Daniel ambled semiconsciously out of Amanda Hallstrom’s office toward the double doors of Athene Academy’s main building. The guard on duty had to remind him to return his visitor’s badge as he departed. He unlocked his Lexus two-seater and seated himself behind the wheel, but instead of starting the engine he pulled his cell phone from a jacket pocket and composed a text message to his father.

They won’t take me, Dad.

Arthur Loring’s reply was immediate.

—What’s the problem? Not enough recommendations?

It’s an all-girls school.

—Thought they were illegal.

Seems not, as long as it doesn’t take govt $$.

—Damn. I know you wanted to stay home. There’s still the SUC.

Pitiful math dept.

—That bad?

Trust me. It’s Athene or I leave home. Maybe Cornell wouldn’t be so bad.

—Let me think about this.

Love you.

—Same.

He pocketed his phone, reached for the ignition, and paused.

Should I call Ching-nien?

The Chinese girl was the most appealing young woman he’d met in years. Her prodigious intellect was matched by her amiability, beauty, and grace. She’d confirmed a reciprocal interest in him by offering him her cell phone number. The warmth in her eyes and her lingering grip on his hand when he conceded their game underscored the message.

She did encourage me to stay in touch. It couldn’t have been all about chess. Her schoolmates are plenty good enough to keep her busy.

I didn’t tell her that I was thinking of applying to Athene, though. What would she think of that?

Doesn’t matter. I want to see her again. Not necessarily over the board.

He started the engine and headed for home.

#

Arthur Loring returned his cell phone to his pocket, planted his elbows on his desk, and hunched forward in thought.

One of Loring’s most frequently expressed sentiments was that a man can have anything he wants if he’s willing to work for it. It had served him well in business. It had also cost him a wife, but he tried not to dwell on that. He preferred to live in the present, enjoying the prosperity he’d earned with his gift for salesmanship. It had allowed him to retire a millionaire at age fifty, still healthy and vigorous enough to enjoy most of the pleasures of youth. He included among them the pleasures of young women.

Now and then it chafed him that at age eighteen his only child was so reluctant to enjoy such pleasures along with him. It wasn’t that Daniel was shy or introverted...or, God help us all, homosexual. Rather, he didn’t seem to give women much priority. Mathematics, chess, American and English literature, and other entirely intellectual pursuits got nearly all of his time.

Daniel was about to graduate at the top of his class without ever having gone on a date. It had drawn the notice of several of Arthur’s tomcatting companions. He’d managed to conceal his displeasure over it by shifting the subject to Daniel’s academic achievements. His drinking and wenching buddies, conscious of the mediocrity of their sons’ school records, usually fell silent.

It made the matter of Athene Academy a sore point for him. An all-girls college so late in the Twenty-First Century should stand out as the aberration it was. The sexes had been schooling together from kindergarten through graduate school for nearly a century. Governments had made it ever more difficult for a school of any level to exclude either sex. Yet Daniel had stumbled upon one quite by accident. His discovery of Athene’s single-sex requirement had stunned them both.

Daniel had been lavish in his praise of the three Athene students he’d met at the library. He’d complimented not just their skill over the chessboard, but their beauty and sociability as well. It had given Arthur hope that his son might at last be ready to break out of his shell, perhaps bring a friend or two home. Join the ranks of actual men.

Becoming the first male enrollee of a previously all-girls school certainly wouldn’t hurt his chances.

Arthur had not yet admitted to himself that part of his hope was that if Daniel were to acquire such a friend, it might result in a friend or two for Arthur, as well. It cost an older man a lot of effort and a fair amount of money to attract the interest of a nubile young club-goer. It had begun to seem to Arthur that he was overpaying for the attentions he received.

He resolved to look into what it would take to crack Athene open. He noted the time, pulled his phone from his pocket once more, and dialed his attorney.

It would be best if he could do it legally, but if not, there might be another way. It was what he wanted, and he’d always succeeded at getting what he wanted sooner or later. This would be no different.

For Daniel’s sake, of course.

Early Friday evening, April 20, 2029

Irene surveyed the layout of Costigan’s Pub with an imperfectly suppressed expression of surprise.

I haven’t been here before, she said as they waited to be seated. You have?

Many times, Holly said. Trust me, it’s not Grucci’s but the food is really good and Pat Costigan has an amazing way with a cocktail. You’d swear he’d inherited the secrets of some forgotten pantheon of bartending gods. He makes this thing he calls a Cobbler that— She checked herself and grinned. I suppose I should let you experience it for yourself.

Well, Irene said, After a recommendation like that...!

A waitress arrived to escort them to a booth where they took seats and menus. Holly ordered Cobblers for each of them. The drinks arrived in less than a minute. Holly straightened and glanced over at the bar. Pat Costigan stood there polishing his glassware and grinning at her.

Pat has long ears. I should have guessed.

Irene took a cautious sip. Her eyebrows went up at once. You weren’t kidding. This is terrific.

Careful about how fast you drink it, dear. Holly raised her own glass and took a tiny sip. It goes down rather easily, and it has quite a fair punch. More than the average mixed drink, I’d say. So, she said, tell me about your journey.

Hm?

To womanhood. When did you first contemplate making the transition?

Oh, quite a while ago. Irene sipped at her Cobbler. You’re right, I’ll have to be careful with this. Anyway, I was a sophomore in high school, suffering all the usual tortures of the untalented and unpopular compounded with the extra-special abuse teenage boys heap upon the un-masculine. What friends I had were all girls, and over time I started to think of myself as one of them. We just had more in common than I had with any boy around my age. I liked the things they liked, saw things the way they saw them, and felt the way they felt. After a while I started to wonder whether I was a mistake. I mean, whether my body—

Holly raised a hand. I get it, dear. Believe me.

Irene nodded. "I could tell from Unashamed. Anyway, when I turned eighteen I decided to see a therapist, and she proved to be sympathetic. She referred me to some other professionals, one thing led to another, and here I am, Irene who was once Irwin. Although, she said, the journey isn’t quite finished yet."

Aha. I take it you’re uncertain about the reassignment surgery?

Irene giggled. "Ra-ther! There are so many different ways it can go wrong, you know."

Holly nodded. I do know. She looked away, and Irene’s eyes darkened.

Should I?

I did promise myself that I’d be as unashamed as my heroine, didn’t I?

She met Irene’s gaze again, smiled, and said I’ve been putting it off too.

The young woman’s face went totally blank. You’re not kidding, are you? she whispered.

Not a bit of it, dear. I was baptized Horace Malcolm Martinowski. From what you’ve just told me it appears we’ve followed pretty much the same course, and at pretty much the same age. Much the same as Heidi’s, at that.

Irene Carroll’s astonishment seemed to have paralyzed her. She was visibly trying to speak, but no words issued forth.

Holly reached across the table to lay a hand on Irene’s hand. Does that revelation make Heidi’s journey any more comprehensible, dear?

Irene nodded. A lot more, she whispered. Does anyone else know? Apart from your family?

The folks I work with at my ‘regular’ job, Holly said.

Where’s that?

Athene Academy, up by the northern edge of the county. I teach American and English literature. Holly smiled. And my lover, of course.

The words my lover brought a subtle change to Irene’s expression: a barely perceptible slackening at the corners of her eyes and mouth. At that moment the waitress returned for their dinner orders. Holly asked for a Caesar salad with shrimp. Irene, apparently still in shock from Holly’s disclosure, muttered the same, and the waitress withdrew.

Holly was draining the remnant of her Cobbler when Irene said offhandedly There can’t be a lot of places where you could let that get around without suffering for it. Your colleagues must be extremely special.

You said it, dear, Holly said. In more ways than just that one.

It was a remark made in haste, without consideration of the possible consequences. One of those consequences arrived upon the instant.

How so? Irene said.

Holly started to answer, caught herself, and was suddenly alarmed.

I’ve said too much. Can I manage not to say any more, or have I already stepped in it too deeply?

She decided to temporize. Well, Athene has extremely high standards, for one thing. And it emphasizes the sciences.

Irene gave a puzzled shrug. A lot of northeastern colleges are like that. What’s so special about that?

It’s also very small, Holly said. The typical enrollment is about a hundred girls in any given year.

Irene’s eyes narrowed. How many boys?

Uh... Holly braced herself. There aren’t any.

An all-girls school? How about the instructors?

All female, dear.

At least, if you omit me as I was.

Wow. Those are pretty rare these days.

Oh, indeed. The college has to refuse all federal or state funds. Otherwise the government would force it to go co-ed.

Yeah, that’s the pattern... Irene looked away. She seemed to wander briefly off among thoughts of her own, then returned her attention to Holly with a jerk. "But that makes their acceptance of you really special. Most genetic girls don’t like us much."

Holly nodded. Their salads arrived, and she picked up her fork and immediately