Disclaimer: The author takes absolutely no stake or claim on any characters mentioned.
2nd Disclaimer: This fanfic should only be found on Mediaminer.org and Digiartistsdomain.com. If found anywhere else, please inform me of it immediately by e-mailing Sazreazhyu@aol.com.

My name is Kouji. Minamoto Kouji. I'm a boy in pretty much every aspect of my life; I look like a boy, I sound like a boy, I have masculine interests and have masculine habits. On my birth certificate, next to "Sex" I am listed as "Male." In sixth grade I attempted to join the basketball team; the boy's basketball team, that is. I made it and quickly lost interest in it, but that doesn't really matter. The point is that it was a BOY'S basketball team. During which, while I was on it, I changed clothing in the BOY'S locker room. When my father introduces the family, he introduces himself, his wife, my stepmother, Satomi, and me, his son, Kouji. Kouichi refers to me as ototou-chan; oh, Kouichi, he's my brother. He's my identical twin. Identical as in, we were split from the same egg cell. Identical twins cannot be two different genders, and therefore, if one is a boy, the other is a boy. Kouichi is, obviously, also a boy. In conclusion, it's a pretty surefire thing to say that I'm a boy then, right?
I'm not. Not really.
It depends on who you ask.
My father will tell you, yes, he has a son. And that son's name is Kouji. My own mother will tell you that she has two sons. One is Kouichi, and one is Kouji. My best friends know me as a boy, and refer to me as if I were a boy. I refer to myself as ore, a masculine form of "I", so it can be said that even I consider myself to be male.
I don't. Not really. It's very difficult to only think of yourself as male when, you know, there's a rather special issue with you. But then, you wouldn't know. My doctors have never seen anything like it before; they say it's ridiculous, and completely defies logic. They have no explanation for it except that I'm an "extremely unique" individual with an "extremely unique" physical anomaly.
Yeah. They actually use those words, "extremely unique." You might as well just sort of tattoo, "I'm a freakin' weirdo!" to my forehead, cut off my arms and stick on tentacles from a Giant Squid, and sew on a snake's head for a tail while you're at it. I'll definitely be "extremely unique" then, huh?
I guess I can't blame them. They're just weirded out, sickened, and in shock. Though you'd think they'd have gotten over it after, you know, seventeen years of me sort of inhabiting the world with my "extreme uniqueness."
And extreme it is.
Shit. I can't take it anymore. I have to go to my bedroom. My "extreme uniqueness" is kicking in.

"Please excuse me." We're in the middle of eating dinner. Satomi is concerned that I'm leaving, and my father just lets me go. He'd already acknowledged what's happening, and he's seen me squirming in my chair for the past six minutes. He gets it; he knows I can't hold off for very long when it happens. At the least, I'll ruin my underwear. At worst...well, it's best not to let it go that far. As far as he's concerned, I might as well get it over with in a civilized manner. Or as civilized as I can. I've barely managed get half-way through my meal, and I promise Satomi that I'll come back to eat it later. I hastily dump everything into one container; so what if it's distasteful? I had to go, and hey, I'll be eating it all together later anyway. I shove it in the fridge, thank her for the meal, and scurry to my room. I have to rush; I already feel my boxers getting wet. I hate this part. Why can't I just wait until I'm alone in my bedroom, and can control it? I don't have to get fluid all over the place; I just think that's gross. It's so hot; God, I don't know if I can stand it. I won't even need my computer for this one. I'm already ready to burst, and can't even begin to imagine why this is so intense when I just did it this morning; fucking hormones.
The second I close my door, I start panting. I'm holding back tiny moans while rushing to take my jeans off, and as soon as they hit the floor, I dive to my PlayStation. The correct CD is already in it, and all I have to do is hit the button. It takes approximately forty-six seconds for the game to load, with me rapidly pressing the "X" button to speed me through the non-mandatory credits. I reach the load screen, and the blaring red pops out at me, as it always does, with the star player with in the background.
Devil May Cry 3. Dante has cockily slung his sword over his shoulder, and he's staring smugly off-screen. Staring at him, I can barely help it; my boxers are getting wetter. But it's better to drip everything into them rather than all over the floor, so I have to keep them on. Six seconds from the start screen to the "Options" selection. Dante poses in the background, and I activate the Analog stick, moving the selected cursor down to the correct word. "Vibration." Beside it is the word "Off." The only other option is "On." By selecting the "Vibration: On" option, the controller vibrates just a little to acknowledge the change. Switching rapidly between the two, however, via Analog stick, causes the controller to vibrate constantly.
What can I say? My father won't buy me a real vibrator or anything I can use to get off with. I have to figure something out.
My bed is high off of the ground. I lean over it and rest the top of my body on the mattress while I situate myself on my knees, gripping the handle of the controller tightly. My free hand immediately goes to my crotch; I hate rubbing myself through clothing because it just gets them wetter, but sometimes I can't help it. I love friction, and it's extremely sensual to me. One hand sets the controller down on the mattress and holds me steady, and the other goes to my waistband, pulling it and letting the dark blue briefs drop. I lift my knees and peel them off of my legs, then set them directly below me to catch any stray fluid. And then, my fingers return below. I feel myself; wet, hot, smooth, slick; my pussy is aching to be stimulated.
Now you see why I'm not really a boy.
Though only in that aspect. Unfortunately, as much as I am a woman, I'm still a man. When I'm aroused, I'm painfully aching in more than one place.

My penis is above my clit, and my balls dangle over it. At first glance my cunt isn't visible at all, hidden as it is behind my sack, but take a closer look, and it's clearly obvious that below my pure manhood, there is pure womanhood. I am a hermaphrodite, and a rare and almost unheard of variation of one, too. Most hermaphrodites have an incomplete second set of genitals, such as a woman having what appears to be a dick, but is not functional, or a man that develops breasts. Me? I have a full set of both male and female genitalia and reproductive organs. Both of my sexes are active. Low estrogen levels account for my lack of breasts and hourglass shape, and especially my deep, manly voice. In my body exists a womb and a set of ovaries, but they are inactive, and in that regard, I'm infertile. Except for the burning arousal in my womanhood, I am completely a man. My cock was rock hard and oozing pre-cum, but even it doesn't hurt nearly as much as my demanding pussy. Trust me, anyone who says that sexual tension is much worse in males is totally bullshitting you. Nothing hurts worse than when you're a woman, or partly woman, anyway, and you need to CUM.
Especially when there's so few options to sooth it. If you've got a guy, hey, a few quick jerks and he's all set for the rest of the day. It's just not that easy to sooth this, and especially not long-term; minutes later, it's demanding more again. It's insatiable, and anything can trigger it...
Shit.
Have to cum. Have to cum right now. When kneeling over, my sack hangs away from my vagina, and allows entrance from anything. I spread apart my knees and spread my labia with my fingers; it shuddered from the contact. I put the blunt handle of the controller against my clit, and rub it against the hard plastic as my thumb reaches for the Analog stick. My other hand reaches to my bed and grips the sheets in a tight fistful as I gently push the Analog stick to the side.
Oh, God, yes. Vibrations, constant vibration and instant pleasure hit me like a ton of bricks. I just gape into my bed, gently moving my hand and letting the vibrating controller move in and out of my lips, but never into the hole; I get the most pleasure from external stimulation. I'm panting again. Usually I wait and tease myself for several minutes before I come, but I'm so close, and so desperate that I can't control it for more than a few seconds. I shove the controller into my clit, hard, rubbing it roughly and forcing it to bring me to the edge. My whole body tightens and I feel the ultimate heat gathering right at my core; oh God, oh God.
"Unnnn..." I release a deep, desperate groan as unfeminine as you can imagine, and quietly cry out at the first contraction. For as wet as my underwear ended up, I released little fluid during the actual orgasm; just powerful, rhythmatic contractions. My tight walls clenched and unclenched rapidly, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body. I was so sensitive down there all of a sudden; the vibrations were harsh and painful against my engorged clit, and I let the controller fall to the floor as the waves continued, steadily decreasing in intensity. One hand immediately went to playing with my contented snatch, and the other went to gripping my hard cock. I smeared my plentiful juice all over it, and began to pump it in and out of my fist. My breath was coming explosively and my hips were jerking into my hand; I almost couldn't take it. A part of me was satisfied and quietly recovering, and the other part of me was hungrily begging to be soothed. The aroused part of me was arousing the satisfied part of me, and inevitably, my clit grew firm again and my lips ached to be touched. The male in me panted obscenely as the female in me dripped all over my boxers, and the female in me grew hot and demanding as the male part of me grew harder and dripped its own musky fluid. I was so hard; my cock was pulsing with the need to cum. It was too much; I couldn't hold off.
"Hnn..." My fist slowly squeezed my cock and milked it as it burst; it was splattering thick, white cum all over my boxers. My pussy started pounding and I moaned as I gripped the bed, having to abandon one sex as I tended to the other. Almost as if protesting in jealousy, my erection sprang back shortly afterwards, demanding to be touched.
The two parts of me aroused each other. It was impossible for me to just masturbate one part of me when doing so immediately aroused that other part of me. I could kneel here for hours, masturbating endlessly because as soon as one half of me was soothed, the other part grew hot and aroused. It only ended when I finished at the same time from both halves of me, and, God, nothing in this world could ever compare to reaching orgasm twice at the same time.

I looked over my shoulder at Dante; the woman in me filled with lust at the sexy, half-devil man, and the male in me responded eagerly to the bitch's swelling need. My mind was half man, half woman, and so images of both aroused me equally. I took both hands away and gripped the edge of the bed with them, crying out as the combination of angry arousal nearly sent me over the edge. In one hand I could smell the strong, masculine odor of semen, and in the other the sweet, flowery scent of girl-cum. My left hand aroused my inner man, and my right aroused my inner woman. It was insane. I breathed the smells deeply, and grunted with delight. Some boys steal used underwear to sample the unique scent of a woman; I just masturbate in my bedroom, and my hand is covered with that scent. I don't like fluid, but, I love the smell. To sample both scents at the same time; it was intolerably arousing.
I stared into nothing as both of my sexes protested the end of pleasure, and I let them hang in purgatory as my nostrils absorbed the intoxicating smells of sex. It brought higher levels of arousal to both halves, and refused to let me take the pleasure slowly. My cock was pounding and throbbing, and my pussy was pulsing and burning with heat. I took hold of my cock and pushed it down, in between my thighs. It was painful to force it there when so erect, but I always needed to try, just in case. The head completely went past my vagina, and natural anatomy would not allow me to bend it backwards inside. It was my greatest fantasy to screw my own cunt with my own dick. I had explicit dreams about it. Of course it was impossible; my cock wasn't flexible enough. But it was an arousing fantasy, none the less. I lay my head on the mattress and closed my eyes, imagining what it would feel like to enter myself. In my mind's eye I could see my own thick head push into my own moist, pink opening, and my legs trembled as I pretended to feel myself grow full from the penetration. My walls clenched down on the imaginary penis violating it; I had to compensate with something. I shoved my fingers into my greedy snatch and squeezed my balls in my slick palm while picking up the controller again. My middle finger rubbed hard into my tender walls as it searched for my g-spot; I've yet to really pinpoint its exact location, but it was extremely pleasurable to hunt for it, and even more so when I occasionally managed to skim over it. Warm fluid was dripping down my wrist when I pulled out, and I situated myself to be pleasured by the controller again. Like I said, as much as I like the idea of filling myself with my own cock, the vibrator is better.
I groaned as the hard handle of the controller met my clit again, and shoved it fully between my lips. Push the Analog stick ever so slightly to the left-
"Oh YES." Pleasure! I jerk my hips into the controller to feel those hard vibrations moving all throughout my pussy and pound my cock into the side of the bed. And then, I just kneel there. Unmoving. I refuse to move at all; I simply keep the controller nudged inside my vulva, and let it vibrate angrily. It's still not inside of my opening, just clenched inside of my lips, right up against my firm clitoris. My hand was steadily gripping my cock and slowly jerking it, not intentionally trying to get myself off. And I just kneeled there, letting the vibrations wash through me and feeling the pleasure surge.

I guess people wonder what I think about when I masturbate. Truthfully, I've got a bit of a narcissism thing going on; I think about myself. Like I said, I arouse myself because of my equally male and female parts. And I can't help that. When I'm just lying here, the top half comfortable on my bed and my bottom half exploding with sensation, I alternate between concentrating on men and women, real or fiction, to please both of my inner sex demons. Almost all of my fantasies involve the one thing I can't have: penetration. I don't like it, I say, because it hurts when I try. I try tiny things like grapes, cherries, and small rubber balls. But anything larger hurts too much to push in, and I can never go through with it. I don't think it's any fun to deal with pain when dealing with pleasure.
But I'd love to really get a nice, fat dildo in there. Make it thick and long to completely fill my slutty little pussy, and let it be the vibrating type so I could send those waves all throughout my body from deep inside my hole. That's what I dream of: my own dildo. But of course, I can't possibly get hold of this fantasy item, and even if I did, how could I expect to get it in if I can't get more than a few fingers inside me?
I grip myself harder and start shoving my cock into my fist again; to sooth my dick, images of playing with my own cunt in front of a mirror, and watching for the first time in fascination at the amount of fluid that I squirt onto the glass as I cum. I rapidly move the controller up and down against my clit and jerk my hips into the blunt edge; to sooth my pussy, images of huge, foot-long cocks being shoved into me at both ends, tenderizing me until almost every thrust makes me cum.
As I said, my male side is easily pleased. My female side can only be soothed by my imagination. Fortunately, I have a lot of that.
"Ah," I breathe, and look up from the bed, gasping and moving my hips harder. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah." My timing is perfect: I'm going to cum, and this time, it will settle both of my halves. I hold my breath and take my thumb off of the Analog stick while opening my fist. Pulses of lust are as frequent as my heartbeat, and they're even stronger now that nothing is providing me with relief. My heart is pounding in my ears as I grip my cock hard, and reactivate the vibration. I almost cry out in pleasure, but continue to stave off my breath. I gently move the blunt handle in and out of my lips, teasing my gorged clit while occasionally nudging the edge into my stretched walls, only just far enough to where it isn't painful. I feel my cheeks getting hot and red from arousal and lack of oxygen, and I bury my face into the sheets as my whole body tenses. Both of my sexes are ready to burst, and they just need to be gently prodded off of the edge.
A big, thick vibrator. My swollen pussy gripping onto it and soaking it with love-juice. That fat head reaching all the way to my cervix. My eyes go wide and I open my mouth, gaping but not allowing myself to breathe.
My own dick, pulsing and throbbing inside my own greedy cunt. Feeling one half of my sex exploding into orgasm onto the other, and cumming inside of myself, drenching myself with hot cum.
"Uhn...Uhn..." Yes. Yes. YES. "UNGH!" I scream into my sheets and bite them hard to stifle the sound of reaching violent orgasm; my cock was pumping semen onto the floor and from below I came so hard, I sent the controller tumbling to the ground. And I felt a burst, a burst erupt from my pussy, splattering the floor and my boxers with nearly-steaming hot girl-cum. I spurt from both parts of me, uncontrollably, moaning and screaming into my bed as I soaked everything below me with cum; thick white and clear. My fingers were off, playing with my clit and smacking it and fingering it to prolong the pleasure. Sometimes, when I'm lucky, it's so sensitive that playing with it immediately causes me to cum again. Not this time, though; the contractions hold strong for about a minute, and my dick stopped oozing long ago.
"Oh, God." I bury my face into my sheets, sweating and gasping for breath. I'm still playing with both of my soaking sexes with curious hands, contemplating taking a break and then immediately popping back in to play more when I suddenly realize-
"Oh...SHIT." Usually, my orgasms are controlled enough so that the...result...lands where I want it to. This time, everything was supposed to land on my boxers.
A lot of it didn't.

My bed ruffle was spotted with fluid, likely vaginal, and my floor was covered in gooey streaks of sperm. My boxers had really taken a beating from girl-cum, but unfortunately, so had the area around it. The carpet was dark and drenched with fluid, and what was worse; the smell was painfully obvious. The occasional scent of musky semen wasn't hard to make out, but my sense of smell was almost completely dominated by the flowery scent of girl cum. My cum. My woman cum.
And it was making me horny.
I was concerned about the mess for...well, a good twenty seconds. Long enough for me to sit up and stare angrily at how wet I'd made everything and how much cleaning it would require. Then I just shoved my fingers back in my pussy, bit the sheets again, and started moaning. I was still too sensitive to play rough with it, so the fingering was cut short when it became painful. I stumbled to my feet and wobbled to my door, pulling on my jeans, over my half-grown erection and aching cunt. Surely, my parents were finished with dinner. Surely. Surely I could go down and get some supplies to sooth my horny cock and slutty pussy.
I peek into the kitchen hesitantly; Satomi is washing dishes, and my father is no where to be found. I make no secret about getting into the fridge; with some luck, she'll think I'm just getting the rest of my dinner, and she won't turn her head to smell the juice all over my body. Indeed; she briefly looks over her shoulder and says, "Hey, Kouji. Glad to see you're finishing that." As she returns to the dishes, I reply shortly,
"Yeah. Thank you." And fly out of there, carrying both my dinner, and an extra container. I make a quick pit stop in my parents' bedroom, and I'm all set.
My carpet where I had my last session is sopping wet, but, hey, it wouldn't make any sense at all to pick a dry area and get THAT wet too.
First things first: I wolf down the rest of my food. I'm starving. Everything just plops into my mouth in a mess of fish, rice, and vegetables, which temporarily disturbed me because of my strict Japanese manner of eating, and then just satisfied me. Hunger is easy to satisfy. It's not picky. Other types of hunger, however, take some creativity to sooth. As much as my cunt is pounding for more, I could lay there and vibrate my clit off and nothing would ever happen.
It gets bored. Unlike my cock, which I can just jerk off any old time. See why it's a pain in the ass?
My stepmother has this interesting little blue mirror. The mirror is held up by one little foot, and the mirror itself flips over. There's glass on both sides of it. One side is a normal view. The other side is magnified. The magnified side is great for getting a real good look at my sloppy, wet sex.
On my groin, there are tiny patches of black hair surrounding my cock, but my pussy is smooth; hair doesn't grow there. Possibly because nothing's stimulating female growth. So it's nice and easy to just gently peel back my lips, and I can see everything. Creamy white boy-cum has somehow finagled its way into my vulva; I'm not worried about it. Even if the sperm somehow got inside me and traveled into my womb, it's inactive. I can't get pregnant. Instead, I'm just aroused.
I squint and stare hard at the mirror, focusing only on the image and pretending it's not just a reflection of me playing with myself. I'm a dirty little bitch in heat, and I've just been pounded by a big, hung stud. I like big; he must be over a foot, fourteen or fifteen inches. Three or four, maybe even five inches of girth have just ceased its assault on my tender womanhood, and I'm leaking just a bit of his seed as the rest is pulled into me by the contractions, swallowing his cum deep into me in hopes of getting me pregnant.
Sometimes I wonder if my strange fantasies are what girls think about. I always sort of thought women would be a little more interested in making love or sweet and sensitive sex with a perfect, beloved partner. But as I've said before; I think like a boy. Essentially, I am a boy. And I once heard that deep down in a man's primal instincts, the most important thing to him is getting as many women as he can pregnant, thus his need to produce as much sperm as possible. Quantity over quality and all that. Therefore, I would think that these fantasies must come from my male mind, and because of my extreme uniqueness, my fantasies are just a little different than what a normal teenage boy thinks about. But I can't even really say that my fantasies are completely a teenage boy's fantasies because, well, I'm not completely a boy. I really do have a feminine consciousness in there somewhere... no matter. It doesn't matter what I'm thinking as long as it gets me off.

I pull the second container closer to me, and pluck one of the dark red cherries from it. I either use grapes or cherries for this, though on occasion I've used plum and cherry tomatoes and I've even tried strawberries once. They're fresh and the fruit is hard and firm; it's barely ripe. I pluck off the stem and spread my legs to split me as far as I can; my pussy is so tight that sometimes it's difficult even for a little cherry to go in. Luckily, I've been fingering myself. This should be nice and easy. I push the dark red fruit against my rosy pink opening; I was right, I'm hungry for it, not rejecting it. It slips in, very smooth, and I hold my legs up to let me suck it deeper into me. I'm watching all of this on the tiny mirror; that's what really makes it arousing. Watching myself drip juices and seeing how hungrily I pull the cherry into me, and then seeing how my cock reacts to each movement. It's like a free porn show. Unfortunately, I only have two hands. The man will have to wait.
I pinch another cherry from the container and pick off the stem. The previous cherry opened a little entrance for me to easily slide the second one in, and it's sucked in before I can even let go of it. I sigh happily, so aroused, and so content to have the freedom to do this to myself.
I spread apart my lips to open up my hole; the cherries try to escape, but I push them back in with a middle finger. They stay put inside.
The third cherry is where the fun is lost. The first one goes in easy and the second one easier still. But it hurts too much to get the third one in, and sometimes I just give it up. I simply don't understand where my intense fascination with huge cocks comes from when I can barely take more than two cherries.
Then again, maybe it's because I'm doing it myself. If I had a big, horny stud shoving himself in me, disregarding my petty little cries of pain and stretching me completely with his thick monster, well, I'm sure I could deal. Or he'd force me to deal. I picture my ideal stud slowly pushing the plump head instead as the cherry squeezes in the hole, and with a gasp I swallow it, letting the fruit join its brethren. My fingers go to playing with my clit as I watch myself clenching around the fruit, and I pluck another cherry. This one won't fit in my cunt, whether I like it or not. I've yet to actually fit four cherries inside; it just hurts too much for me to bear it. I straighten the stem and prepare it at my head, and then steadily insert it into the dripping slit. Most people don't think of sounding with a cherry stem, but then again, I'm just not most people.
The cherry itself rests right on the top of my tip, and with my hand finally free, I use it to start jerking at my pounding dick. My womanhood is immediately aroused by it and heat erupts from it, in turn arousing my manhood. I take the controller in hand again, and maneuver my inner muscles until the third cherry is peeking out of my opening, but isn't quite out. I press the blunt edge of the controller right against it, and as I grip my base harder, I lightly tap the Analog stick to the side.
And without anything blocking the sound, I can't but help but grunt deeply as the vibrations hit me. It's nudged right at the edge of my clit, and delivering its most powerful shocks to the cherry. It causes a chain effect, and the other two in turn receive a portion of the vibrations until all three are shuddering inside me.
And that makes my woman happy. Now to please the man.

I angle the mirror upwards so that I can watch myself jerk at my hard-on. As fascinated as I am with hung-as-a-horse studs, my own is only average. Luckily, the man is much easier to please than the woman. In the mirror is still the vibrating controller nudged right against the cherry; I can see myself leaking from around the fruit. I watch my fingers tighten around my cock and I gently tug at my erection, staring in fascination at my cunt and getting off on watching it. Like I said: it's like free porn.
My legs spread farther apart and I suck the cherry back into my body, and the controller follows it in, spreading my lips apart farther. My cock practically shudders in excitement while I spin the cherry around inside my slit; I wish I had a real sounder. A thin little cherry stem did almost nothing for me. It was so flimsy. As if to prove this, it was suddenly forced from my dick as a thick glob of pre-cum erupted from it, and all I could do was moan. And I gently stroked myself, watching myself squeeze the pre-cum from my shaft as my foreskin repeatedly covers and uncovers the head. I lick my thumb and index fingers until they're coated with saliva, and then gently rub my sensitive red tip with them, pretending the slick digits are actually little tongues licking at me. Like any boy my age, I want to be in a threesome; one of the partners will be a man, and one will be a woman. Both of them can sooth me. As I take the woman and fuck her, the man fucks me in return from behind.
Maybe we'd be able to figure out a foursome somehow. I'd love to experience anal at the same time my pussy's getting pounded. Could you even imagine how good that would be? To actually get stimulation from my cock, vagina, and ass all at the same time?
It's so hot to think about. I can feel the best of both worlds and cum and cum and cum. It was a wonderful gift.
My hands leave both of my sexes completely. My womanhood strongly protests the end of the vibration, and my manhood angrily bounces and powerfully throbs. I bring my palms to my face again, inhaling the smells covering them and masking out every other smell in the world. Strong, musky male. Sweet, enticing female. My pussy pulses. My cock trembles. I was so horny. I put six fingers in my mouth, index, middle, and ring, tasting both man and woman at the same time. I'm arching my back and trying to spread my legs farther apart; my hands delve into my snatch again, and my firm grip takes hold of my erection. Feeling the cherries inside of myself was just intolerable; I was just so sensitive down there. I thumb my clit innocently as my fingers fan out inside me; and then my thumb just goes wild, rubbing my clitoris as hard and as fast as it could. My whimpers are constant as pleasure begins to surge through me again; I'm bucking my hips wildly as I try to force myself to let go and submit to the pleasure.
I angle my cock downward. It twitches eagerly, preparing to unload. My womanhood burns as it feels that thick man right in front of it; it's begging it, "Put it in! Put it in!"
I want it in. I want it in so bad. The controller nudges right up into my clit again, and I activate the vibration. Abruptly, without any warning, I just moan as my pussy milks its imaginary lover while it explodes into climax, and the cherries are forced out of me; the first is shot out of me and it hits the mirror, and the other two lamely fall to the floor between my legs in a brief, unimpressive stream of fluid.
Meanwhile...
"Ahh..." Meanwhile... "AHH!" Oh, God. I jerk at my cock; faster, faster. In my mind I'm watching myself shoot cherries from my hole in climax; fluid is abundant and dripping all over the floor; harder, harder, HARDER. "AHH!!" My manhood erupts: semen bursts out of me, right onto the mirror and totally coated the glass with cum so thick, it barely even dripped. It was short, but intense; the mirror itself was forced to tilt as it was nailed with my cumshot.
And that was it.
I could barely move.
I was in pure ecstasy; my cunt was still pounding happily, and my cock was still throbbing with pleasure; shortly it would soften. My two sexes, the lovers that they were, would settle down and sleep together in my fresh boxers. My fingers collect the sperm all over the mirror; half of it I lick, half of it I purposely insert into my pussy, just to feel the thick cream inside me.
And it then it occurred to me that it would take a long time to clean my carpet, and that it would probably never smell the same again.
I hate my logical mind. I can never just float along in the throes of pure orgasm long enough to just achieve that perfect, level happiness. I have to ruin it with logic.
I stood woozily; I was soft, and though extremely tenderized, I was cooled down. Neither of my sexes was protesting. We were ready to sleep. And then I started swearing at myself, asking myself, as I always did, why I had to lose my mind. I mean, sex only lasted a few minutes.Then the orgasm came, it took my breath away for all of three seconds, MAYBE five or even six if I was really lucky, and that was it. The pleasure was gone.
And that sucked. For all that I sacrificed to pleasure those two, my orgasms should be better than that. As intense and as powerful as they were, I should still be feeling the effects. I collapsed on my bed, limply resting my arms on my shaking knees. Well, maybe it was a little more intense than I thought. My energy was shot. When I opened my eyes again, they caught the two cherries in the middle of my cum puddle. I plucked one of them up with a finger; it was gooey white and dripping clear. I popped it in my mouth; it tasted so sweet.

Father never knew how far I really took it. Because obviously, I never told him. Satomi could hardly even guess. She knew I was a hermaphrodite. She knew I got really strong sexual urges for both of my sexes. She just didn't realize the magnitude of those urges.
Father knew. Father wanted to get me surgery to remove my beautiful womanhood; he wanted me to be purely male. Why? So that I could live a normal life. Ordinarily, in the case of children born both male and female, it was easy to choose which one to take away and what to make them. Most human babies are born with only one set of gonads- sexual organs. Because of this, supposedly, no human can have a true set of both. So if a baby is born with both a vagina and a penis, it's a simple thing to find out that the vagina was natural, and the penis was a strange mutation. Remove the penis, normal baby.
Me? I DID have two sets of gonads. Kouichi didn't. He's a perfectly normal boy. Why am I the lucky one? God knows. But both of my parts are real. It was a real pussy and a real cock. They couldn't remove one if it was possible that I could grow up and sympathize with the opposite gender. It was decided that, for now, I would live as a male, and when the time was right, I would choose my true gender. After all this time, it was expected that I was going to live as a male. My female parts were obviously inactive, except for my horrific heat waves. Male was obviously the dominant gender going on with me. But my true gender identity?
I still didn't know what it was. I sympathized with men. I felt like a man, only with woman-ish tendencies. I wasn't sure if I was happy with that. What if I removed my testes and my cock? What if I took estrogen supplements to stimulate female growth? What if I became a woman?
I disturbed myself thinking like that. I pictured myself looking into the mirror and seeing a woman, and it bothered me. I was much more comfortable being a man. So why was I so reluctant to really, truly, make myself a man?
"The sex is just good, I guess," I muttered to myself as I waved my bangs off of my sweaty forehead. I was on my knees trying to clean my carpet; it was working, but barely. The mirror was just a mess; semen and girl cum was probably inside all kinds of little nooks and crannies that I'd never get out. I should probably just steal the damn thing. I plop the sponge into a soapy bucket and start kneading the floor with a dry towel, trying to soak up as much of the water as I can. As soaking wet as the patch had been, I had to get it even wetter with real water before I could scrub it out with soap. It was such a chore.
I did it at least twice a week.
I finally withdrew from the carpet with both a sigh of exhaustion and a sigh of relief. It was good enough; it would dry, and hopefully it would dry smelling like green apple dish-soap, not cum. The sponge was one of those use-once-and-dispose-of types, and I did so with it. I dumped the soapy water in the bathtub, and threw the towel in front of the washing machine. My boxers were soaked in soapy bathwater for twenty minutes before I took them out and rung them as dry as I possibly could get them, and I put them with the towel. What could I say; I'd rather have Satomi wonder why they were water dried rather than cum stained. And I did, in the end, rinse off the mirror and hide it under my bed. I doubted Satomi would miss it.

I poked my head around the wall into the living room; Satomi was there. I called good night to her, and she called good night back. Father was in his den; I called good night to him, and he called good night back. It was summer, and I was without school for several weeks to come. I was free to choose my own bedtime as long as it involved me in bed some time before three a.m., and if I wanted to go to bed at nine o'clock, that was fine with them.
And wonderful for me. I was totally spent. They say that men are opposite from women; having an orgasm reduces energy, while in women, having an orgasm increases energy. I beg to differ; having both, especially at the same time, was completely draining. Besides, my stomach wasn't feeling very good; I might've eaten my dinner too quickly. Practically swallowing everything whole doesn't do wonders for your digestive system, you know.
I go to bed with a fresh pair of boxers, and that's all. I'm feeling too hot; the summer months drive me mad in the middle of the night because I want to pull my blankets over me, but I can't without having to sweat. Why would I make myself more miserable with pajamas?
When the lights are off, I snuggle into my bed sheets, and calmly reach into my boxers to innocently play with myself. It wasn't a cause for arousal, nor was I trying to masturbate; I just got a little bit of pleasure out of having each of my sexes touched, and it filled me with a little more of that brief, sexual happiness. For a moment I play with my nipples too, and then I just cuddle my blanket, settle my head on my pillow, and dozed off.
I woke in the middle of the night to find that my stomach was still having issues digesting. I pulled myself out of bed and ate a cup of yogurt; hey, I know that sounds weird, but yogurt aids the digestive system, don't you know? I also swallowed two ibuprofen before I collapsed back into bed, and was not bothered for the rest of the night.
I woke early in the morning to find myself caressing my nipples again; this happened frequently, especially when I went to bed bare-chested. I felt uncomfortable in my boxers, and I squirmed around for a second before practically falling into my pillow in exasperation. They were wet. Only slightly, but they were wet. I'd had some kind of erotic dream in the middle of the night. Perfect. If I had to have wet dreams and had to clean after THAT in the morning, I could at least remember the dream. I couldn't remember anything sexy about my dreams that night. I felt like I was getting cheated. Thankfully, my sexes were dormant. At least there was no early-morning-horniness to tend to.
My stomach felt a little better, but it was still a little sore. It was alright; that happened sometimes. I'd just eat more yogurt for breakfast and would skip out on anything heavy. I stumbled along to our bathroom, and locked the door as I slipped out of my boxers. I felt very wet between my thighs; ugh, I hated putting boxers in the laundry when they were covered in cum. I'd have to clean them up a little bit. Well, at least just the crotch part was dirty, and it wouldn't require dunking it into bathwater. I plopped onto the toilet and let them fall to the ground while I tore off a few squares of toilet paper and lightly wet them. I held the boxers closer to see the mess in them so that I could clean them, and was disturbed. Normally, it was very easy to see the cum. Creamy white against navy blue was kind of obvious. Had I cum from my girl parts in my sleep? It was entirely possible, though it had never happened before.
There was something odd about the way they smelled. There was something strange about the colour of the wet stain. It almost looked...red. I stopped, dipping my head far enough into my stretched boxers to smell.
It smelled sort of feminine, but it definitely wasn’t cum. I smelled it again, and in terror, suddenly recognized the scent.
It smelled like blood.
That was impossible.
I dropped them to the ground and spread apart my lips. I couldn't see below me very well, but I could see enough to realize that my terror was real.
There was a little blood spotted between my thighs. The inside of my vulva was stained with blood, and the scent was strong; unpleasant. Horrified, I reached for my boxers again and touched the crotch area of them; my fingertips came back with red stains outlining my fingerprints. I couldn't help myself; I sniffed it to sample the odor again. There was no doubting it. That was blood.

Somehow, in someway, I've started menstruating. I practically felt like gagging; that was just so gross. I'd just gotten my period. My period.
I was eleven when I started puberty. My voice got deeper, I started having wet dreams, and I regularly shaved. I was now seventeen, and suddenly, out of the blue, my female sex, which had been scientifically proclaimed to be inactive, had started menstruating.
One of the first thoughts that hit my mind: Maybe I really am a woman.
The second thought to hit my mind: Thank God; I'm not pregnant.