Futanic Panic

You are Riley, a 20-year-old college student, and rising soccer star. Two months ago, you traveled to a camp in Central Florida to play and learn alongside other soccer players from around the world, but just a week into camp, you learned that the camp was being turned into a televised, soccer-themed reality TV show: Football Ultimate Tournament Association, or FUTA.

You, and most of the other girls, signed contracts and joined in. You were made into a captain of one of the six teams: Pink Team.

For years you had hidden your penis and your sexual orientation, but that wasn’t an option at camp, where there was no privacy. To your surprise, things went OK for you. You didn’t come looking for anything kinky, you just wanted to find a girlfriend and lose your virginity. That’s not exactly what you got. You became involved with a girl who was ardently submissive, which **** you to learn how to dom. You didn’t learn very well, and you still aren’t a good dom. You’re faking it. But during the journey, you discovered a secret: that young women suddenly being celebrities on a TV show is a huge amount of pressure, and there’s nothing like giving up control to help relieve pressure.

As rumors of your domming spread, you became a hot commodity. Most of these girls weren’t looking for a true dom/sub experience anyway. They just needed a push to give into their horniness and blow off some steam.

Through sheer dumb luck and the coincidental power of social media stress, you became an icon of sexual liberty at FUTA. For a while, you even shared your gifts with girls from other teams, but you’ve stopped doing that. Your team doesn’t approve of you helping the competition. That’s fair, and your influence has certainly helped them bond. They’ve let themselves be **** in front of each other, and that has let you all get to know each other quickly. Your team is very comfortable with things that a normal team wouldn’t be. There’s a sense of openness, like privacy is no longer really an issue. Everyone has seen everyone in some state of horniness at some point. The changes were gradual, but you couldn’t help it when one evening you noticed two of your teammates just having sex in their bunk. They were under the covers and not acting like porn stars, but it was obvious what they were doing. A couple girls discreetly watched, but the rest went about their business.

So it’s safe to say that your team has an unusual atmosphere.

Now, as you enter your third month of FUTA, you fight to keep up the façade and to keep your team on top. You might be a fake dom, but one thing is very real: happy girls win games. So who’s really in charge? You, the dominant captain? Or your team, who you toil away endlessly to keep relaxed and happy?

On the one hand, you’ve gotten your wish: you lost your virginity and there’s a lot of sex in your life. That’s good. But it’s also a lot of work. You’ve learned so much about your team. It’s important to keep them focused, and nothing distracts them like penises. Hard ones.

And that’s what Lara has right now. Her covers have slipped off her bed, and she lies on her back, snoozing and looking very glamorous and pretty, even with all the lipstick kisses visible on her legs and tummy, and on her raging, morning wood.

This is how it happens: your team sees that, their thoughts stray, and then you have a situation on your hands that wouldn’t have had otherwise. You’re learning to manage these things efficiently.

You get up, and your body is covered in the same lipstick marks as Lara’s. Last night was busy. You tiptoe over to her bed, cover her mouth, and rouse her. She wakes up, takes the hint, and follows you into the bathroom without a word.

“Morning,” she yawns, but she’s already got that look. It used to flatter you that you turn her on so much, but her infinite libido is a pain in the ass. Unfortunately, she’s one of your best players.

You yank the curtain aside and get into a shower stall. She tries to follow, but you push her out.

“On our knees,” you tell her, pointing at the floor.

Looking disappointed, but still game, Lara gingerly kneels on the cold tiles, her erection bouncing a little.

“Take care of it,” you say, pointing at it. “Before anyone sees.”

Lara gets it. She doesn’t care about being a sub, she just wants to fuck you. You would like that too. You don’t know if she’s so obsessed with you because she really likes you, or because she’s been trying to have her way with you for so long and feels committed to the goal. Whatever the case, she’s not going to complain about getting to watch you naked while she jerks off.

You turn your back on her and get down to business, washing off the lipstick and planning your day. Behind you, Lara greedily gazes at your body as she jerks off vigorously. You don’t hear her satisfied sigh when she finishes, but you do see her load shining on the tiles when you look over your shoulder. Breathing hard, she stands up and winks at you, then goes to get tissues to clean up the mess.

With that out of the way, your morning goes smoothly. You give firm instructions to your girls to focus, get dressed, and get to the dining hall for breakfast. Tiff, your coach, arrives to do the same, but you already have things moving.

Tiff looks worried. She doesn’t approve of the way that you run things, but she can’t complain about the results. You understand why she worries. What you’re doing is extremely unorthodox. You didn’t choose it, it just happened.

Now you have **** but to keep it going.

Soon your team is crisp and put together, sitting down to breakfast in the big dining hall in the main building. It’s a beautiful day out, and the natural sunlight is great. You’re glad it’s the week again. FUTA will keep your girls busy for the most part, so you won’t have to.

Halfway through the meal, Annette takes the stage. You’ve seen this happen plenty of times. She’s going to give you the rundown on the week to come. But she seems off somehow… she’s a pretty blonde about your mom’s age, and she’s never bubbly, but today she’s different.

“OK, guys,” she says informally, holding up the mic. “Put the blinds down,” she says to a FUTA employee, who hits a button. Automatic blinds buzz and cover the windows. “And give us some privacy.”

The employees all leave the dining hall. It’s just players and Annette. The coaches are at the back of the room, standing together, watching in silence.

This is different. A worried murmur goes through the girls.

“Let me talk,” Annette says tiredly. “It’s OK. OK, guys. Here’s what’s going on. FUTA is sexy. We all know this.” A lot of the girls laugh. That’s pretty obvious. From the ads to the uniforms, it’s obvious to everyone that part of FUTA’s appeal is just cute girls. “And I like that. I think most of you do too. But there’s a concern that it’s gotten too sexy. There are rumors. It’s not FUTA’s place to tell you what to do behind closed doors, and I certainly don’t have a problem with it,” Annette goes on, placing her hand on her chest. “I like a little of that myself. I love that some of you have come here and found someone, and I’m the last person who would ever try to keep anyone apart. But guys, that’s what the Lodge is for. OK? You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” everyone says in a chorus.

“I’ll be blunt. We’re in Florida. I don’t have to say more than that. Um…” She sighs. “So, look. It’s important to me that you’re happy, but I also can’t get the governor mad at me. Right? So to do that, I have signed a contract with some health consultants. They’re going to be coming here to keep an eye on things and to make sure that everyone is safe and healthy. It’s OK for everyone to know that FUTA is sexy. But we can’t have people thinking it’s some kind of sex cult, and some of you have gotten a little wild.” She doesn’t look at you. “So that’s the deal. We need to keep these people happy. I’m not telling you to be celibate nuns, but we need to act like adults and behave a little bit. Sexy times need to happen in private at the Lodge. Does that make sense, everyone?” She looks at you all expectantly.

The response is a bit half-assed. Your team isn’t the only one that’s loosened up during this process. Other teams have arrangements and things going on as well. You’ve heard rumors.

After all, sexy stuff is about relaxing. Now everyone’s worried about these new consultants coming here. It’s even more pressure. This is not good news.

“OK, last thing,” Annette says worriedly. “I don’t expect you to like this, but we’re making another change to our MVP system.”

“Again?” Lara demands, irked.

“Yes. Moxxi and Lulu will stay on as announcers, but they won’t be judging MVPs anymore. That’s going to be one of the consultants.”

There’s silence. That’s another bad piece of news, but probably not a big deal.

“So expect to see them around,” Annette concludes. “Along with the new players that’ll be coming in. That’s all. I wanted to be the one to give you some warning. Your coaches have details for you. Be ready to make some changes.”