Her House, Her Rules (Futa on Male)

By Jordan Bailey

A young delivery driver mistakenly goes to the wrong address and, after getting mistaken for an escort, becomes a plaything for an exotic futanari bombshell!
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Contains elements of Futanari on Male

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Bailey
• Release date: Nov 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215210994

Jordan Bailey

Jordan Bailey is a transwoman originally from England who now lives quietly in the United States. Her hobbies include writing, movies and playing with her dogs. Lover of anime, manga and animals, she primarily writes about Futanari, or 'Dickgirl' women and crossdressing. She also enjoys weaving tales about effeminate young men, a.k.a. 'femboys', transwomen and other transgender themes!To get updates, send feedback, or anything else, follow her on Reddit @ BaileyJordanOfficial

Book preview

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Her House, Her Rules

by Jordan Bailey

This ebook is for 18+ adults ONLY. It contains explicit, graphic details of sexual acts and language that may be considered offensive by some readers.

All characters engaged in sexual activity are consenting, non-related adults over the age of 18.

Copyright © 2023 author Jordan Bailey. All rights reserved.

The San Fernando Valley, a hot, earthquake prone, suburban section of Los Angeles that is home to many things. This proud region was once the pinnacle of American suburbia has now been reduced to a shell of its former glory.

Amidst the rampant homelessness and rundown tract houses sits a 1960's relic on the corner of Vineland and Burbank: Big Top Liquor. This North Hollywood landmark looks like any washed up beverage and booze establishment, except the sign features the world's filthiest carnival tent ever conceived. But, it was a place to get yourself quick booze when you need it, and if you didn't feel like being that degenerate to get your own liquor, fear not, they deliver.

This store was a haven for the early twenty-somethings with little-to-no direction in their life to gain employment, though none of it gainful. One such twenty-something with little-to-no direction in their life was one: Bryce Sanders.

Bryce was your average Angeleno born and raised in The Valley. He surfed, smoked weed, and did little else. Aside from a few trips to San Diego to catch some swells in La Jolla he rarely even ventured outside Los Angeles County, let alone his own neighborhood. He was one of those lazy kids just kind of coasting through life hoping for opportunity to strike him.

As he was stocking the shelves in this sweaty booze boutique, we can get a better look at the boy. He was twenty, not even old enough to sample the wares of his place of employment. He was scrawny but not scrub scrawny. He had blue eyes,