The Cuckoo's Nest

The Cuckoo's Nest

A short story by J.K. Ermon (jokermon)

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. It features explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, or if reading this type of material is illegal where you reside, don't read it. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real life people, events, or medical conditions. Please enjoy this story responsibly and do not repost without permission. This story is copyright the author©2015.

~~~

She was beautiful in the way plain women can be when they experience joy. You see it in brides sometimes, or in new mothers. Ohio State Police Detective Richard Somersby was reminded of Ingrid Bergman's numinous portrayal of a nun in The Bells of St. Mary's. Except this woman was a mental patient. And very, very pregnant.

Her hair, lost somewhere between copper and iron, fell long and straight into curling, unbarbered tips.Her features would be considered harsh were not her expression -- indeed, her entire manner -- softened by a profound inner peace and happiness. Her breasts were as full and taut as footballs and they nestled atop her gravid belly like a missile battery. Her papery gown made no secret of her pregnancy or the startling protrusion of her nipples. She had it rucked up to her fleshy mid-thighs and sat unselfconsciously with her legs crossed in a wicker chair overlooking the facility's arbor. Somersby guessed she was at least seven months along.

"I told the other policemen everything," she said calmly. "There's really nothing else."

"Perhaps you could recap it for me, then," Somersby suggested. His greatest asset as a cop, he'd been told over and over, was his disarming nature. He didn't project the kind of alpha threat the other bulls did. This made him absolutely lethal in the interrogation room. He was the perfect Good Cop. The problem was, his usual Bad Cop foil, Larry Wilkes, was off having an appendectomy. Lucky bastard.

"Who did this to you, Margaret?"

"She was an angel," the woman said.

"I'm sorry?" asked Somersby. "She?"

"Yes."

Somersby paused. There were so many confusing elements here he didn't know which one to tackle first. The cops who'd taken her statement months ago were incompetent and left a wake of incomplete paperwork for him to swim through. To cap it off, the victim, who was also the only witness, was a mental patient. He wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he'd stepped in here.

"So...she was an angel, as in, she was a kind, nice person?" Hoping against hope.

"I meant she was an angel. A heavenly being. Not of this earth. And she chose me to be the vessel of her seed."

Her face tilted up toward the angled sunlight of the late afternoon, and Somersby was even more strongly reminded of Ingrid Bergman. The calm of those blue eyes unnerved him. They were nothing like the eyes in her DUI arrest photo from two years ago. Those eyes, Somersby remembered, had been hatchet-like with rage and alcohol. It hadn't been an easy arrest; in the photo, her swollen lips twisted in a snarl below a bruised cheekbone. He found it hard to believe the vicious bar-slut in the mug shot was the same woman before him.

"You keep saying she did this," said Somersby. "That this...female angel assaulted you."

"It was not an assault," she said. "She had no need to force me. I was willing. I was honored."

There was something implacable about her serenity. Somersby managed not to sigh. "So this...lady angel... impregnated you."

"Yes." She nodded. That seemingly ever-ready joy rose to the surface of her eyes again. She laid reverent palms on her belly. "And made my life wonderful."

"But...if she was female..." Framing the question appropriately strained even Somersby's tactful best.

The case had been a hot potato he'd been unlucky enough to catch. An unsolved sexual assault in a rural county with no unsolved crimes. And Somersby had pissed off his chief by busting his nephew for vandalism. It was a righteous collar, too; he'd caught the little shit in the act.

"If she was female," Margaret finished his sentence with a smile, "then how could she have given me a baby?" Those eyes carried a glint of humor now.

Thank God. "Yes, more or less."

"It's no great mystery. She had a penis, of course." Margaret said it in such an offhand way that Somersby almost nodded yes, of course. Then he caught himself.

"A penis."

"It was beautiful. So big. But then, she was beautiful all over...like a vision. More perfect than those women you see in Cosmo. She had an inner light. She glowed."

Somersby eyed the woman. She was glowing a little herself. She carried a high flush on her cheeks and a glitter of something other than piety in her eyes. She shifted slightly in her chair.

"She entered me. Like a man would. Only...no man ever made me feel like that."

A quiet vibrancy entered her voice, and an erection, sudden and startling and wholly unexpected, surged against the fly of his trousers. He placed his notebook on his lap with studied casualness. He gestured for her to continue.

"Her seed came into me many times that night. I was blessed, and conceived."

Well...there it is. Holy shit. Literally. Some seriously holy shit.

Feeling lost, Somersby forced himself to recount the facts of the case. Name: Margaret Thomas. Race: Caucasian. Age: 35. Weight: 135. Height: 5'6". Hair/Eyes: Brown and Blue. What was true in Dragnet stayed true in real life: The facts were all that mattered.

"How did she, um...appear before you? Was she just suddenly there, in your house?"

"Oh no. I met her at O'Shea's, out on Twenty."

Somersby's eyebrow twitched. Well of course. Obvious place.

O'Shea's was the nastiest, drunkenest, fightingest roadhouse in the county. After every respectable bar had thrown your ass out, they'd still take your money there. And most likely your wallet and your watch too. It was precisely the type of place the woman in the mug shot would frequent.

"You met her at the bar."

Margaret nodded. "She was drinking. Throwing back shots of Jack. I don't know why I joined her. I usually got into fights with other women in bars. But for some reason...I took the stool next to her. She just looked at me, and in this slurred, tipsy voice she said, 'Fuck it, you'll do, you drunken bar slag.'"

"I'm sorry? She said what?"

The woman smiled tolerantly. "The actual words didn't matter. What mattered was that she chose me."

"You said she...glowed...?"

"She didn't reveal her true nature to me until we were home. In the bar, she looked normal." She shrugged. "A blonde woman, prettier than most, but nothing...special. My age, or a little younger. She had tight bellbottoms on, and a fringed leather biker vest with nothing underneath. She had a lot up front, you know, chesty." She made an unnecessary gesture to illustrate.

"And you left the bar with her?"

"It was the strangest thing. What she said should have made me furious, but it didn't. There was just something about her. I knew I was supposed to go with her, take her home with me. It was just supposed to happen."

"And once you were home?"

"Oh..." She closed her eyes, and shifted in her seat again. Somersby realized, somewhat to his disquiet, that she had been steadily squeezing her thighs together, over and over. And continued to do so as she recalled that night.

"She said something like, 'let's get on with it, bitch', and she took off her clothes."

A powerful shiver ran through her body.

"I felt the true nature of her divinity once she was naked. Her skin was just..." She closed her eyes and drew a breath. "I was sober. All of a sudden, just stone cold sober. I knew that what was happening...was really happening. And that it was miraculous."

"What did happen?" Somersby couldn't help himself from asking.

"Well at first, her body was normal. She just looked like a normal naked woman. I could tell, because she had no hair down there at all and I could see her vulva plain as day. But then...her labia spread apart, and...I nearly fainted. It just... appeared. The head at first. The head of an enormous penis. It...emerged, I guess is the right word. It just came out, I don't know from where, a head and a big long shaft behind it."

She held her hands about a foot apart to indicate its length.

"It rose up, and up, and up. It was big and pretty and had the most wonderful gigantic balls. Finally, it was done, and just sort of swayed there in place. That's when she told me, 'the sum total of your worth rests entirely on how well you can make me come.'"

Somersby blinked. "That sounds..."

Margaret nodded. "Crude. I know. But you can't imagine the sheer presence of her. The holiness of her. Even her contempt, her...disdain, felt like purest grace. When she slapped my ass and said mean things...it was sublime."

She sighed, and the husky quality of it made him think that even this simple act of retelling gave her intense pleasure. It also sent shivers through his stiff-bloated dick.

"She kissed me and I sucked her tongue. I just...oh, I had to taste her all over. I sucked her nipples. I sucked her fingers and toes. I licked her vagina. Oh, sweet God in heaven, I even licked her ass hole. And then I sucked her cock."

Somersby's erection bucked in his pants like an enraged bronco. His throat was dry and he didn't think he could speak, even if he wanted to stem the tide of this strangely arousing tale.

"I had her in my mouth for a long, long time. I'd given plenty of blowjobs in my life, even for money a couple times, or to settle a bar tab, but this...this was nothing like that. This was...an act of worship, an act of service. At first, she insulted me, you know, 'can't you do a better job than that?', but...as I figured out what she liked...as she began to respond..."

Her thigh muscles flexed rhythmically and Somersby swallowed with an audible click. His palms were sweaty, he realized. He rubbed them on his pant legs. To his great disquiet his own level of arousal seemed to be rising with hers.

"When I brought her to orgasm, I felt such...happiness. I was more happy in that moment--swallowing huge mouthfuls of her sperm--than I can ever remember being. I felt like I'd accomplished...not just something important, but something pivotal. I'd never felt so proud. And as I swallowed her, I could feel her...her power, her blessedness...enter me. I felt like I was glowing, just like her."

In Somersby's uneasy estimation, that was still happening. That elusive quality of bliss-imbued beauty intensified with her tale. For the first time since his long-gone adolescence, Somersby felt he might actually come in his pants. It was amazing and unsettling.

"She didn't get...soft...like a man would. She stayed hard. I kept on sucking her. We had started off with her standing and me kneeling there in the middle of my living room. After that first time, she took a seat on the sofa, and I got down there between her legs. I made her come in my mouth a second time. And...a third..."

Margaret's voice caught and Somersby saw twitches going through her crossed thighs. She was having an orgasm. He didn't trust himself to say anything, and didn't want to interrupt the recitation. She drew a shivery breath and continued.

"When it was time for us to have intercourse, she did it to me from behind at first. I was lying over the ottoman with my knees on the carpet. She was so big...I thought I would burst. The pain was exquisite.And then there was no pain at all, just...ecstasy..."

More shudders went through her.A string of drool trailed out of the corner of her mouth. Her voice dropped to someplace deeper in her chest and came out guttural.

"When she...came in me, I felt as though I were leaving my body. I was just floating. She kept on spanking me, calling me 'bitch' and 'cunt' and it kept me there in the moment with her. I didn't pass out, and I suppose she knew I could've."

"She said such nasty things to me! She talked about my vagina, about how much she enjoyed it. She was so graphic about what she liked. She said she was happy my cunt wasn't worn out and useless like the rest of me. 'Plenty of snap left in that thing,' she said."

"Then she had me on my back on the carpet. Then I rode her. Every time she came, I felt more of her divinity pass into me."

She took a few deep breaths.

"Eventually we wound up in my bed. Things were...different by then. No more urgency. We had come to a tender and playful stage. It was so nice. She would enter me and then take it out. Teasing me. And then enter me and just leave it there for long periods of time. While I would play with her and she would play with me. She had the most beautiful, suckable breasts." Margaret closed her eyes.

"I woke up at one point and she was kneeling over me, masturbating.I remember noticing her shaft was so long and heavy that it took both of her hands. She rubbed it on by breasts, my belly. She took my hand and made me help her. She put two of my fingers up her vagina and had me rub her clitoris with my thumb. She was warm and cozy inside, and so wet my fingers just glided. She kept on stroking that beautiful penis back and forth, and without her asking, I used my free hand to play with her balls. She said, 'I guess you're not totally useless after all.' It meant so much to me that I cried."

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered.

"That time, when she came, she came all over my face. It was beautiful." She touched her cheeks and trembling lips. "I can still feel the warmth of it, the smell of it. The stickiness."

"The next day, she was gone, and my car was gone. I didn't care about the car."

Detective Somersby numbly checked his notes. "It was found in a truck stop parking lot two counties over. Abandoned." Even to him, his voice sounded a little faint.

Margaret's visitor had done considerably more than steal her car. When one of Margaret's drinking buddies came calling the next afternoon, he'd found the place thoroughly ransacked. Everything of value had been stolen. Margaret herself had been left unconscious, naked, and covered in semen. After a garbled 911 call, she was taken to the hospital and then to this facility after she came to and started talking about female angels with penises. There were jottings from doctors about low-grade psychosexual religious manias. Somersby wasn't paying attention anymore. His cock was harder than hard, and bobbing in anguish.

Margaret shrugged. "I already knew she'd given me a baby. And more besides. My life is different now. Better. A higher destiny guides me."

Somersby looked off into the arbor. He had to admit it was a very soothing view. He cleared his throat.

"Has this...individual contacted you again?"

Margaret shook her head. "I don't expect her to. This kind of visitation happens once in a lifetime, if at all. I was privileged."

The detective forced his brain back on track. Better wrap this up and get out of here. I really hope Regina's in the mood tonight. If I can wait that long. I just might beat off in the car on my way back to the station.

Detective Somersby started, and gaped downward. Margaret Thomas's hand was in his lap, pinching the pronounced bulge of his erection between thumb and forefinger. He looked up at her in disbelief.

"Ms. Thomas...Margaret..."

"This is what happens now." She smiled at him with all the love and empathy of a living saint. There was something irrevocable about that too, as he watched her fingers undo his belt and open his pants. Sweet Christ, I don't think Regina's ever smiled at me like that once!

His erection stood tall, bigger than he'd ever seen it, and she gave it a firm, approving squeeze. Then she stood, and pulled her gown off over her head. The stretched-smooth skin of her stomach and milk-swollen breasts gave her body a firm, preternaturally youthful look. Her nipples appeared even bigger nude, and were thick and dark brown.

She knelt down, settling in between his legs. Her fingers encircled his penis and she kissed the shaft. Then his toes curled as she licked up to the head and slurped him inside.

He panted raggedly as her head rose and fell in his lap. Her tongue worked his glans with inexorable insistence. Her hands stroked his root and fondled his balls. There was no denying her.

Somersby groaned loudly as he exploded in her mouth. She moaned in sweet satisfaction as she swallowed it all down.

She kept nursing on him until all of his sperm was gone. Then she stood up and offered her breasts to him. Without thinking, the detective sucked a thick rubbery nipple into his mouth.

Warm, rich milk flowed down his throat. The effect of it hit him like an opiate; well-being and a kind of gleeful concupiscence rushed through him. His sagging erection snapped upright and new energy filled him.

What? That's...no way...

Then she was leaning back in her chair and lifting her widely-spread legs. She hooked her knees over the armrests. Somersby was on his knees in front of her and only had a brief moment of hesitation when he wondered if this would be good for the baby before fitting his penis to the open pink slot of her vagina and pushing it home.

She was sopping, dripping, flowingly wet. She was oven-hot and to Somersby's disbelief, as tight as a teenager. Even as his balls touched the wrinkles of her anus, her insides convulsed in another powerful orgasm. She shoved her knuckles in her month to stifle her moans.

"Ohhh...ohhhh..."

"Pluh...plenty of snap left in that thing," he mumbled stupidly.

She nodded and let out a breathless laugh that turned into a cry of pleasure.

Somersby had been thrusting for a full minute before he remembered how to fuck. He began rolling his hips and thumbing her clitoris. She came instantly, and then again and again. She finally pulled his face down into the most erotic, romantic and electric kiss of his life.

He roared into her tongue as his cock pulsed in her moist grasp and ejaculated what felt like gallons of seed into her. He could feel her nipples pressing into his chest, and the wetness of her leaking milk. His trim belly rode atop the solid, sweat-slick hump of her pregnant one. He made sure his elbows took his weight. Their combined fluids overflowed and dripped down his balls and her ass.

He slowly withdrew, and to his amazement, Margaret knelt down before him again and took his soft, glistening dick into her mouth. She sucked him clean. She licked his balls, too, and even the spattering of juices on his thighs.

She zipped him up, patted his crotch and smiled at him.

"You'll be back?"

"Yes. Yes I will." And God help him, he absolutely meant it.

Hell yes, I'll be back. I'll be back daily if I can swing it.

~~~

In his unmarked car on the way back to the station, Somersby couldn't shake his new sense of elation and purpose. For the last few years he had just been marking time on the job. He had long ago lost whatever sense of mission he started out with as a rookie. And now, this.

Margaret was going to need a place to stay once she had her baby. She was also going to need a friend in the system to make sure the child didn't get shunted off to foster care. And the baby, which he instinctively knew would be a very special baby indeed, was going to need protection and fathering.

He and Regina had long ago given up trying to have children. A lot of cop marriages end in divorce and they seemed to have been drifting that way. A baby would change everything. He knew this with the same kind of automatic certainty that Margaret had about her visitor. And if Regina had any objections to him bringing Margaret into their lives, Somersby believed a little sip of Margaret's milk would change that. He had no doubt Margaret possessed persuasive lesbian skills that matched the high level of the rest of her repertoire. He didn't think Regina would need much convincing.