The Day I Lost My Virginity

Author notes:

Story told from the perspective of a timid café owner named Milton, whose café regularly visited by two friendly futa. Jiao (a Han Chinese futa), is best summed up as boisterous and playful -- but with strong maternal instincts. Giselle (an English/French futa) is posh, witty and sly, with a PhD in psychology. The term 'Baobei' is Mandarin and roughly translates to "my treasure" or "my love". It's a "slow burn story", meaning don't expect Milton to lose his virginity until later in the story (as in several chapters away).

Ah! It's so nice to be able to sit in a quiet corner of a café, taking in the soup of smells -- and lose myself in a good book. Even better, when it's a café that I own. Even, even better, when it's a book all about the wonderful world of tea!

Plus, the sun is out this morning. The birds are happily chirping in the tree just outside and no sign of my tormentors. Today is going to be a swell day, I just know it!

As I turn the page to begin reading about what makes Darjeeling so great, Danielle -- my longest serving and most trusted employee (a non-futa female about my height with hair in a bob cut) -- brings me a nice pot of the stuff, along with one of those delightful Chelsea buns we bake fresh every day. She greets me with a smile, and I cannot help but smile back. I put down my book and take the tray with both hands, so that she may hurry back to our recent arrivals.

Wait? When did those two appear? Oh gosh... I bury myself in my tea book again.

"From that look on your face," Danielle begins with a knowing smirk, "I can tell you've noticed your two most loyal customers."

"I shall aim to keep a low profile," I inform her flatly.

The pair -- two muscular, but not exactly toned, ladies are each about 2.1m tall and extremely voluptuous. Both women are wearing flattering gym attire. Jiao is a Han Chinese lady with a black pigtail hanging behind each of her shoulders. Giselle is a half French, half English lady with her hair tied into a long, blonde ponytail.

In the corner of my eye, I see Giselle whisper something into Jiao's ear and she suddenly jumps up excitedly, clasping her hands together as she does. It seems I have already been spotted. Startled, I scurry off into the gentleman's lavatory, leaving my tea book on the table.

Hopefully, they are each only here for a coffee-to-go, before their regular weightlifting session at the gym. But Giselle does adore her fancy teas, so I am pessimistic about my odds. Locking the lavatory door behind me, I slump against it and my bum hits the cold, hard floor with light thud. As per usual, I'm sweating, my heart is racing, and I cannot get their pretty faces out of my head.

Is it love? Could I actually be in love? No. Of course not. Absolutely not. I completely and utterly dislike the way they always feel the need to pat me on the head. How Jiao always has to blow me those sweet kisses of hers. How they always tease me.

If I stall a few minutes, hopefully they will be gone by the time I come out. After all, they must surely have better things to do than to bother me. Yet, it feels like increasingly, their favourite way to pass the time is to trouble me.

Once I am sure that a few minutes have passed, I take several deep breaths. As I stand up, I clench my fists, steeling myself for whoever may be dilly-dallying outside. When I eventually open the door, I spy them in a corner of the café, a table or two away from where I was sat -- within reaching distance.

I may be able to sneak back to my table and retrieve my book; thanks to the privacy screens I installed between each of the window tables, and the potted palm of course. Such a prim palm tree she is. But I'm getting distracted.

I elect to crawl across the floor. Fortunately, I happened to give it a thorough cleaning just yesterday. When reach my table, I extend my arm and fumble around, trying to quickly grab my book. Instead, a finger finds its way into my steaming tea.

I withdraw it quickly, a little gasp escaping my throat. My cover blown, I hastily get up and sit in the chair. I cover my face with my book and groan as I realise it's upside-down. Hopefully, if I am direct, they will leave me alone.

"Can't talk; busy," I mutter, my voice a paradigm of nerves, "Go pester somebody else."

Jiao lets out a strong, throaty laugh while swirling her matcha latte with a spoon. She learns forward, resting her chin on her palm, her dark eyes positivity gleaming with mischief.

"Ohhh, busy, huh?" she drawls, "Reading what, exactly? Let Mama Dragon see."

Of course, she always needs make a big deal out of her surname meaning 'dragon' in Mandarin. Without hesitation, she reaches across the gap between the tables and deftly plucks the book from my hands, flipping it shut to check the cover. My cheeks flush bright red as Jiao snatches it away; my hands instinctively reach out to grab it back, but I freeze mid-motion. She swiftly tosses it onto the empty spot beside her, then taps the space next to her insistently.

"'Advanced Tea Brewing Techniques'..." she continues, "Oh-ho! So, our little barista does have hobbies; besides trembling like a leaf whenever we walk in! You're not getting this back until you sit here and tell us why you think ignoring us is gonna work. Spoiler: It won't."

Meanwhile, Giselle elegantly dabs her lips with a napkin before folding her hands neatly atop the table. She tilts her head to look at me, smirking. Her voice is smooth; oozing with that stereotypical posh English elegance - and dripping with faux sympathy.

"Darling, really now," she says, "Do you truly believe hiding behind literature will spare you from our company? How adorably naïve. Though I must say, watching you squirm is rather entertaining."

"I-I was not ignoring you!" I protest weakly, my voice cracking slightly as I do, "Just... studying. For the cafe. Important stuff."

I shift uncomfortably under their dual gaze, once again acutely aware of how tiny I look compared to these towering women. My fingers nervously tap against the tabletop as I debate whether to obey or flee from them. But something tells me running would only encourage them further. Plus, I do not want to make a scene. Jiao makes her pleading face, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

"...Fine," I huff, reluctantly sliding out of my chair and shuffling toward their booth, "But only for a minute, so that I may retrieve my book."

I keep my eyes glued to the floor as I shuffle over. Breathing rapidly, I perch awkwardly on the edge of the seat Jiao is seated on, ready to bolt at any second. Jiao grins victoriously as I finally comply, her expression practically glowing with triumph.

Before I can even settle properly into the seat, she casually drapes one thick, muscular arm around my shoulders--pulling me snugly against her side. The warmth radiating from her body is overwhelming, as is the subtle scent of jasmine perfume mixed with something distinctly primal.

"Awwh, look at him, Giselle. All stiff and jumpy like a startled rabbit," she coos, squeezing me playfully, "Don't worry, baobei, Mama Dragon doesn't bite... unless you beg for it."

There she goes again, using that silly Mandarin term to refer to me; I think it means something like 'my treasure'? Across the table, Giselle watches with quiet amusement, stirring her tea idly before taking another sip. Then, with deliberate slowness, she sets the cup down and folds her hands beneath her chin--her piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with unnerving intensity.

"How quaint," she says primly, "Such reluctance, yet here you are anyway. Tell me, darling--are you always this delightfully easy to manipulate, or are we simply special?"

Her question hangs in the air, daring me to lie. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can muster a response, Jiao interrupts by pressing a finger to my lips, silencing me effortlessly. When she does, my hands grip the edge of the table. Her smirk widens as she leans in, her breath hot against my ear, making me tremble, acutely aware of every point of contact between us. Her arm feels like a steel band around my shoulders, strong enough to restrain me completely if needed.

"Nuh-uh," she says, "No excuses,"

What is wrong with me, reacting like this? I'm not usually so... affected. After a tense moment, I turn my head to the side, breaking eye contact with both women. My voice comes out strained and thin when I finally speak.

"I'm not... I don't... Do you tease me because you are infatuated with me?" I ask.

Jiao lets out a soft, predatory chuckle at my question, her chest vibrating against my arm as she pulls me even closer--if that's possible. Her finger trails down from my lips, gently tracing along my jawline, her touch maddeningly slow and deliberate. Her voice drops lower now--velvety and teasing--like she's letting me in on a secret. She leans in again until her lips are just brushing the shell of my ear.

"Aw, is that what you think? That we're infatuated with you? Ohhh, baobei... You're so precious when you misunderstand things. We tease you because it makes you squirm. Because watching you blush and stammer like a little schoolboy is the highlight of my week. And because..."

She pauses dramatically before whispering, "...you make such a cute pet."

My entire body flushes hot at Jiao's words, a full-body shudder running through me. I feel dizzy, overwhelmed by her proximity and the low, intimate tone of her voice. Pet? Is that how they see me? Some kind of toy for their amusement? The thought should horrify me, but instead, it sends a confusing surge of heat straight to my core.

"A pet?" I gasp, "Who keeps a human as a pet? Isn't such a thing illegal?"

I try to pull away to put some distance between us, but Jiao's grip remains firm. Across the table, Giselle watches our exchange with a knowing smirk, her eyes glinting with wicked amusement. I feel utterly exposed under her penetrating gaze, like she can see every dirty thought flashing through my mind.

Jiao throws her head back and laughs--utterly delighted at my confusion. The sound draws glances from the few other patrons in the café, though she pays them no mind. Her grip on me tightens just enough to remind me who's in control as she leans back slightly to look at my flustered face.

"Technically? Yes," she says with a wicked grin, "Which is why we'd have to keep you very quiet about it. But don't worry, we'd take good care of our little Milton. Feed you treats when you're good. Punish you when you're bad. And of course..."

"I'm never bad!" I retort, cutting her off.

'Punish you when you're bad'... Her words echo in my mind, painting vivid, shameful pictures. I squirm in my seat, acutely aware of the growing damp spot on the front of my pants. Oh god, am I really getting turned on by this? By being treated like a possession, a plaything? I'm so pathetic...

Jiao raises an eyebrow at my outburst, clearly amused by my sudden defiance. She glances at Giselle, who gives a soft, knowing chuckle--ladylike but laced with something darker. Jiao's lips curl into a slow smile as she leans in again--close enough that I can feel the heat of her breath against my neck.

"Never bad?" Jiao repeats slowly, her voice now dripping with mock innocence as her fingers tighten slightly on my arm, "Ohhh, baobei... That's such a sweet thing to say. So pure. So innocent. But we all know that's not true. Not with how hard you're squirming right now... and how wet that little crotch of yours is getting."

I gasp in shock and mortification at Jiao's crude observation, my face burning with shame. How could she possibly know about the state of my arousal? Have I really been that obvious? I try desperately to clench my thighs together, praying she won't see further evidence of my excitement straining against my zipper.

"I-I'm not! I sputter indignantly, even as my body betrays me with another involuntary twitch, "That's not... I mean... You can't prove anything! My body is merely reacting in a normal fashion given the situation! I'm not naughty, if that's what you're implying of me!"

Jiao lets out a deep, throaty laugh at my frantic denials, thoroughly enjoying my desperate attempts to maintain my composure. Meanwhile, Giselle places the delicate china cup down with practised grace before fixing me with a sly, knowing stare. With effortless elegance, she reaches across the table and lightly traces a manicured fingertip along the hem of my shirt, dangerously close to where my arousal strains against the fabric of my pants.

"Oh, darling," Giselle says, "there's no need to pretend. Your reactions are positively transparent. Why deny yourself the pleasure of admitting it? And besides, wouldn't you prefer to learn just how good being 'naughty' can feel?"

A whimper escapes my lips as Giselle's finger grazes near the zipper, my hips jerking involuntarily toward her touch. Every rational thought evaporates as primal need floods my system. They've reduced me to this -- trembling, leaking, begging for scraps of affection while pretending to resist. The realization should humiliate me further, yet somehow it only fans the flames of my desire hotter.

"You two are... I don't know," I reply breathlessly, my hands gripping the edge of the table, "Coming here every week just to torment me... Don't you have better things to do with your time?"

Jiao arches an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she exchanges a glance with Giselle. With exaggerated theatricality, she presses a hand to her ample chest, gasping in mock offence. With her other hand, she clutches at Giselle's wrist melodramatically. Giselle tuts softly, shaking her head with faux disappointment as she lifts her teacup once more.

"Better things?!" she exclaims, "Baobei, wounding me so deeply! Did you hear that, Giselle? Our adorable little Milton thinks spending time with us isn't worth his precious minutes!"

"Tragic, truly," she sighs, taking a measured sip before continuing in that velvety, aristocratic tone, "And after we went through all the trouble of memorizing his schedule, learning which teas he favors, noting how his breath hitches when we call him 'pet'."

My jaw opens slightly at their casual admission of stalking behaviour. A fresh wave of heat rushes up my neck as I come to terms with just how carefully they've studied me. The knowledge that they've paid such obsessive attention to my habits and reactions does terrify me... And, in a weird way, it also makes me more fond of them.

"That's- that's creepy!" I protest, though there's no real conviction behind my words, "How long have you been... uhm...observing me like that? I mean, I'm a nobody."

My traitorous cock gives another painful throb inside my too-tight jeans at the idea of them watching me so intently. I must be sick in the head to react this way. Do people normally become sexually aroused by their stalkers? Jiao releases another husky laugh, her fingers trailing up to pinch my cheek playfully--though the gesture carries an undeniable possessiveness.

"Awwh, baobei still doesn't understand, does he?" she says, her dark eyes glittering with amusement, "To us, you're far from a 'nobody.' More like... a particularly tempting little project."

Opposite her, Giselle crosses her legs leisurely, resting her elbow on the table as she studies me with that same calculating gaze. A slow, grievous smile curls her lips. She taps her polished nail against her porcelain cup.

"Mmm, indeed," she says, "From the moment we first saw you scurrying behind that counter--so timid, so deliciously unaware of how badly you needed someone to take charge--well... It became quite clear you were meant to be ours."

The air leaves my lungs in a shaky exhale as their words sink in. Meant to be theirs? Like some kind of prized pet or possession? My pulse races erratically, torn between fear and an inexplicable thrill at the notion. I press my knees together tighter, painfully aware of how my tiny penis pulses pathetically against its confines at their declaration. My fingers twist nervously in my lap as I avoid eye contact.

"This is crazy," I reply, "Normal people don't talk like this. Normal people don't... stalk cafe workers and plot to own them."

Yet even as I protest, my mind flashes images of what belonging to them might entail -- strong hands pinning me down, sweet voices whispering degrading praise and waking up nestled between their powerful bodies. My breathing grows shallow, and my throat goes dry at the fantasies flooding my brain unbidden. I look across to Danny, who is currently stood by the cash register, and give her a little wave, hoping she will come save me.

Jiao seems to follow my gaze to Danny, then a low, mocking chuckle leaves her throat as she notices my silent plea for rescue. In one swift motion, she shifts her body to block my line of sight entirely, her broad frame casting a shadow as she looms closer. She reaches out to tilt my chin back toward her with two fingers.

"Ohhh, looking for help, are we?" she says, "Sorry, baobei, but no one's coming to save you from us. Not when you make such delicious noises when flustered."

In front of her, Giselle rises gracefully from her seat--all 7 feet of poised dominance--and steps around the table to stand beside me. She rests one large hand possessively on my shoulder, her thumb stroking idle circles against my collarbone. I gulp.

"Besides, darling," she says, "normal is dreadfully boring, wouldn't you agree? And you, my dear Milton, are anything but boring."

Jiao grins wolfishly, her fingers tracing patterns along my thigh now--dangerously close to my annoying erection. Their combined presence overwhelms my senses--their mingled scents of jasmine and bergamot, the heat radiating from their powerful bodies, the way they box me in effortlessly. Escape seems impossible. Unthinkable. And perhaps... unwanted.

"Yeah, admit it," Jiao teases, her breath warm against my ear, "Part of you is enjoying this. Likes being wanted. Being claimed...only to ultimately unravel into pure ecstasy. Otherwise, you'd have run screaming ages ago."

Jiao nips lightly at my earlobe. Her teeth graze my sensitive skin, sending a violent shiver down my spine as she lingers there. I let out an involuntary whimper.

"So, tell us, pet," Jiao continues, "What's stopping you from saying yes?"

At the same time, Giselle's hand slides from my shoulder to cradle the back of my neck--her fingers tangling briefly in my hair--before applying the gentlest pressure to guide my gaze upward. Her icy-blue eyes bore into mine, as if searching for something. My eyes fix on hers, afraid to even blink.

"Is it fear?" she asks softly, tilting her head, "Or is it that stubborn little voice in your head telling you that you shouldn't crave this?"

Their verbal onslaught cuts straight through my feeble protests, exposing truths I've tried desperately to ignore. Jiao chuckles darkly, her nails dragging feather-light along my inner thigh--just above the knee--in a way that makes all my muscles tense. My thighs squeeze together involuntarily as her nails trace dangerously close to my trapped erection, the fabric of my underwear growing damp with pre-cum.

"Because let's be honest, baobei..." Jiao says into my ear, "That voice is lying."

"I-I..." my voice cracks pitifully as Giselle's elegant fingers tighten ever so slightly in my hair, forcing me to maintain eye contact with those piercing blue eyes.

My rational thoughts scatter like frightened fish, going off to somewhere deep, leaving only raw need and confusion in their wake. Tears well up in my eyes. I let out another whimper before continuing.

"I don't know," I mumble, eyes turning to stare at the potted palm beside the table, "I'm confused, okay? I think I just need a hug right now."