Chapter 1: Introduction
Ever since freshman year, Cherry had developed a mildly annoying, yet routine-like ritual in which he’d scramble to brush his teeth and shove himself into a clean pair of underwear, before dashing towards his locker. The journey to his 8:45 AM psychology lecture was nothing short of a marathon.
Now, I could already sense some of you raising your eyebrows. Was he really that late every day? Well, yes, but it wasn’t entirely his fault.
You see, our protagonist wasn’t the most graceful soul – a bit clumsy with a dash of innocent naïveté. And most days, the star of our story was sidetracked by the allure of the college campus. The sprawling sea of ivy-covered buildings, modern classrooms, and winding pathways, the air filled with the cacophony of laughter and the murmur of intellectual discourse.
Each crumbling brick and gothic-styled statue held stories that stirred Cherry’s imagination. During those fleeting moments, his existence transcended the boundaries of being a constant disappointment to his parents, or the perpetual target of his older brother’s taunts.
On this blessed day, Cherry was lured to the winding cobblestone pathway beside the gurgling river, which led him past the majestic oak and towards the esteemed arts building. The sun peeked through the leaves overhead, casting a warm, golden glow on the ground before him.
Some leaves rustled in the breeze, as if beckoning him to weave between them. He felt like an explorer discovering a mystical forest, leaving reality and judgment behind.
But that feeling of serenity, unfortunately, never lasted long enough. The echoes of laughter from the crowd gathered near the arts building invaded his sanctuary. His heart sank every time memories came rushing back. The sound of their shrill voices, hooting, and hollering, tearing down his paper fortress of tranquility.
Laughter wasn’t enough for them.
They needed their fair share of drama, and who better to serve as the perfect punchline than the sensitive, bottom-heavy Latino boy? His gigantic curves, chocolate skin, and short, curly brown hair became their infamous targets.
As his heart struggled to regain its normal rhythm, he could feel their eyes upon him, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. It was sooner than he expected this time around.
The tall, imposing figure stood in front of him, her Amazonian-like frame blocking the path to his safety. The ebony-skinned woman’s long, straight black hair cascaded down her back, and her powerful arms were crossed in front of her, accentuating the deep cleavage revealed by her skimpy tank top.
The group behind him stirred, and he felt the weight of their curious stares. "Cherry, sweetheart," she cooed, her voice dripping with venom and sarcasm.
"Look what I found when I was cleaning out my closet! Just think, little ol' Cherry might finally be able to use this to full effect!"
What she held up made heat rush to Cherry's cheeks: a thick, black dildo, glistening in the sunlight as if to mock his masculinity. He shuddered, his pulse quickening as his eyes darted from the crowd to the girl and back.
She took a step closer, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"What do you think, Cherry? Isn't it just the right size for you? You know, to make you feel like a real man."
Heart pounding and nostrils flaring, he forced himself to meet her gaze. The mockery and laughter were all too familiar by now. But instead of cowering, something within him snapped.
"Fuck you," he muttered, barely audible as he began to walk past her. The crowd’s hum turned into murmurs, waiting for the impending explosion.
The Amazonian Futanari girl’s grin widened when she realized she had pushed Cherry far enough. She let the dildo fall from her grasp, landing with a thud on the cobblestone path below.
As her hand wrapped around his wrist, Cherry tried to wrench it away, but she pulled him closer. Her lips hovered inches above his, a cruel smile playing on her face.
“Don’t be like that, sweet Cherry.
It’s just a bit of fun, letting you feel something you could never have.”
She lifted his chin, violating his personal space with her words and obscene phallic symbol a hand’s reach away. Her lips curved into a predatory smirk. Instinctively, Cherry’s hand reached out to push her back, but he hesitated, painfully aware that his fingers lacked the strength to move such a towering figure by an inch.
Suddenly, she gripped his wrist hard and spun him around, forcing his back against her body.
Cherry's heart thundered in his chest, as he felt her lips pressed against his ear, her every word a defiling whisper. "You like to play tough, don't you? Why don't you show me what kind of man you really are?"
Before he could react, she yanked down the straps of his bag and slung it on the ground. The furious tension in the air had set every nerve on edge, and he could tell no one was moving to intervene.
The Futanari girl grabbed the waistband of his pants and tugged them down.
Cherry, still stunned, found himself in nothing but a pair of basic white underwear, his member growing rigid at the rawness of the moment. He struggled to push her away, but her strong arm held him in place, trapping him against her large frame.
"You like the way I make you feel, don't you, Cherry?"
Her voice dripped with a malicious allure, punctuating his emotions with a heavy, swinging pendulum of pleasure and pain.
As much as he wished for it to stop, arousal, slow but certainly growing, began building up from his loins.
"F-Fuck you!" he stammered, gripped with fear and anger, yet unable to deny the unexpected stimulation. Her grip tightened, and without ceremony or warning, she seized his boxers and forced them down, past the swell of his voluptuous ass, and over his thighs, revealing his stiffening Latin cock.
The Futanari girl chuckled. "Ahh, look at that.
Finally, the cherry blossoms in full bloom," she gloated wickedly near his ear, tracing a lingering path of warmth with the tips of her fingers. Her caress hovered ever-so-close to Cherry's now erect cock, and he let out an involuntary gasp.
Her husky laughter stabbed at his pride.
Cherry seethed, his heart thundering as he realized the entire crowd, now a raucous horde, jeered encouragement for her to continue.
He glared at her, then noticed something he could only describe as primitive hunger in her eyes. It sent a chill down his spine. The Futanari girl tugged his underwear until they were tangled around his knees.
Cherry trembled, wrestling to escape her vice-like grip. But she tightened her thighs around his, preventing any possibility of evasion.
“Let's see if this cherry really tastes as sweet as everyone says it does,” she hissed into his ear, the promise of torrid pleasure darkening her tone.
Her hand slid further down, curling around his leaking cock. Cherry clenched his eyes shut, body tensing at the feeling of her warm, rough fingers closed around him. The crowd's hum filled his ears—an orchestra of anticipation and cruel delight.
With a vicious thrust of her hips, the Amazonian Futanari girl impaled herself on him.
Cherry gasped, eyes bulging as the mounted monster slowly descended upon him. Incredulously, he felt the thick, hard cylinder slide deep into his body, making his eyes water.
She paused, relishing the power she held over him as he gasped for breath. "Fuck, you're tight," she muttered, driving her cock in and out with apparent pleasure. The audience's laughter and catcalls filled the air as she enjoyed his submission, knocking him off balance.
Her hips bucked, filling the tender recesses within him.
"Oh yes, sweet cherry, your ripe little body was meant for this," she taunted, the depravity of their encounter painting a lurid grin on her face. Every ruthless plunge of her hips evoked from him a bewildering mix of torment, fear, and something he despised himself for - mind-numbing pleasure.
He moaned, his inner walls clenching and releasing around her thrusting shaft. He couldn't believe this was happening to him.
The room spun as Cherry stared down at the woman who now dominated him, a towering Amazonian-like Futanari, her hardened, muscular body embodying the essence of power and dominance. It galled him that he, given their stark contrast, had become yet another one of her conquests, a pathetic prize in her twisted derision.
His balls throbbed painfully, a testament to the steadily increasing pace at which she impaled him, roughly enveloping every inch of that thick shaft within his violated flesh.
The pain, initially unbearable, had given way to a most vile and foreign pleasure. In the eyes of the captivated audience, she was using him like a slutty plaything; but in his own tortured thoughts, he realized that he was the one completely at her mercy.
Her aggressive pumps, accompanied by a hot, heavy breathing, filled the once-tranquil courtyard. Cherry, unable to resist the savage force driving into him from behind, could feel his vision blurring, a mixture of heady sensations washing over him.
The Amazonian Futanari girl nurtured the delicate seed of climax within him, meticulously stripping him of his integrity, every slow, solid stroke sending alcoholic thrills coursing through his veins. His body arched back instinctively, straining towards her—feeling like a captive relenting to his captor.
His groans grew more cacophonous with each thrust.
"N-nooo... ," he panted, his face not agreeing making him look like a slut, throwing the last shreds of dignity to the wolves circling them.
He tried to remember who he was and where he was before this deviant act but those thoughts were soon obliterated by the intense wave of sensations which kept multiplying with each snap of her waist.
The Futanari could see him squirming in her arms, which only served to further strengthen her resolve giving her leverage over his resolve. She yanked Cherry's hips harder, slamming him back onto her thick cock.
Cherry let out a guttural moan, surrendering to the primal exchange between them. His instincts screamed for him to flee from the situation, but the pull of her hips kept him firmly anchored to her, desperate for release.
The Futanari girl's free hand wound through his brown curls, her grip as rough as her other parts. She pulled him upright enough so his back met hers, then twisted two strands around his wrist before hooking them over the barbecue grill she'd brought with her.
His arms now held wide like a Christ, she reached between his legs and prodded his sack up and over the sizzling grill, placing a light coat of grease on his scrotum.
"Now, to finish this little fuckshow off," she growled before hoisting Cherry up a few inches by the chain and straining him further across the grill. She took hold of her soaked shecock and gave it a vigorous squeeze, before spitting directly on the tip, turning her attention back to Cherry with a slow, evil grin.
Cherry felt her agitated tongue trace the veiny ridges of his ass, having long lost the battle against her sheer domination, resigning himself to the explicit acts as she traced circles around and around his rim. Time seemed to have come to a standstill, the weight of his humiliation bleeding into him, making his heart race furiously.
The crowd had grown quieter, listening attentively, keen to experience every lascivious detail of the show unfolding before their eyes.
He felt his cock twitch at the sound of those wet lips close to his ear, his whole body quivering with anticipation.
"See this, little cherry?" she said, circling her tongue up the underside of the shaft. "This is what you need."
Cherry let out a whimper, begging her in his mind to continue, to give him that sweet relief he yearned for. Tears was streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat trickling down his forehead as she trailed wet kisses down his neck.