Queen of Futa

How you got here is a blur.

You used to be a great soccer player. You went to what was supposed to be a fun training camp for girls. You were already a thirsty, gay girl with a penis… but something happened. Your penis grew while you were at the camp, so much so that it became a hindrance in soccer.

But while being so hung made soccer more difficult, it also made you very popular. You caught the eye of the people running FUTA, and you became something of a mascot. FUTA’s lurid, T&A-focused marketing was never a secret. Now, glamorous photos of you in various poses with sexy uniforms highlighting your curves and your huge bulge on display are all over the internet and America.

You became the face of FUTA and became a small celebrity. It’s been very weird.

Lights sparkle and champagne glitters in tall glasses. Nicely dressed people surround you, and you smell shrimp and wine.

“Hi,” you say, smiling at a woman who steps forward to shake your hand and gush about how much she enjoyed the first season of FUTA.

This is the wrap party. There are only a few players here; everyone else is behind-the-scenes figures. Important people. Well, Moxxi and Lulu are prominent figures. They’re on the stage now, announcing awards and bonuses.

You catch a glimpse of Annette, the Showrunner. She’s blonde, your mother’s age, and she looks spectacular in a clinging, blue dress that shows off her figure. She smiles at you, then moves on to speak to someone else. You don’t have time to get lonely; people keep coming up to you.

You are used to having a more obvious bulge these days, and you are not self-conscious about it in your black party dress, although everyone looks at it. Men. Women. It doesn’t seem to matter.

It’s been busy for you. FUTA has a grueling schedule for its normal players, and you had to fit in all these video shoots and photography sessions. Having your makeup done, having your body waxed… all that stuff left you very little time. Luckily, Lara and Tiff were able to keep your team afloat for the season. It wouldn’t have looked good if the mascot’s team finished in last place. Pink Team finished second, and you are very happy with that.

Now, you’re ready for a break… but you will not get one. This afterparty is the kickoff event for the publicity tour. It’s a month-long event that’ll have you traveling around the country promoting FUTA. You can’t go home until it’s done.

You’re so tired.

Faith gives you a sympathetic look. She can see it. She’s a mild, girl-next-door brunette, and one of FUTA’s three executive producers. She wears a demure little white dress and looks very cute. You wish you could have some time to get to know her better; she seems nice… but maybe you’ve already done that?

Something about the nonstop work and whatever was given to you that did this to your penis has affected your memory. You never feel quite like yourself, and you worry that you’re forgetting things. You expressed that concern to Angela, FUTA’s doctor. She told you that your new, enlarged penis is so big that it requires so much blood that there’s not enough for your brain.

So… that kind of makes sense. You don’t know if penis reductions are a thing, but if they are, you’ll have to get one. You need your brain.

But not until you do your job here and get paid. You need to stay hung for the time being.

“You OK?” a woman asks, startling you.

This is Clara, a wiry, tattooed woman with lots of piercings. Like Faith, she is an executive producer. You can tell that she’s a big shot because she didn’t dress up at all for the party.

“I’m good,” you assure her, admiring her ass in those tight jeans as she walks away. You love her boots, and you wish you could remember if you’ve ever really had a conversation with her. You shake your head and take a sip of champagne as more fans and investors swarm you, doing their best not to ogle your bulge up close.

You accept another glass of wine from a server and shake hands with a dignified-looking Japanese man.

“Thanks so much,” you say, and he moves on. You take a deep breath and barely manage not to spill your drink as another woman bumps into you.

It’s Tracey, the third executive producer. She’s a soft, curvy blonde who embodies every possible cliché about vain, vapid women with money. She is very drunk.

“Sorry,” she says, hiccupping. She stumbles in her heels as she leaves. They need to stop giving her drinks for the night. You glare at the nearest server, then go to find Annette.

This is maybe the most uncomfortable part of all this. Annette is your boss, and at times like this, you go to her for guidance and support, like a parent. She has certainly taken a very motherly stance with you whenever she senses that you’re struggling. That would be fine… you hadn’t had sex with her at least three times over the past few months.

You’ve always been horny, so it’s not weird that you are attracted to her. It’s a bit more of a surprise that she would initiate that kind of thing with you. She’s a calm, collected, super successful professional. Well… she’s also a woman.

You aren’t trying to get laid right now, you’re just tired.

“You look wiped,” she says with a smile, touching your cheek tenderly. “Stay another five minutes or so, then go to bed, Riley.”

“Thanks,” you say, relieved. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re all so busy that we forget how hard we work you. I know you don’t like these parties. You’re doing great,” she assures you, taking your hand and giving it a little squeeze. You squeeze back and hold her gaze, then nod and get back to it.

But soon you’re in the elevator with your shoes in your hand, riding up to the floor where your room is. The party is in the hotel that you’re staying at.

As you leave the elevator, you find three people waiting outside the door to your room. It’s Faith, Tracey, and Clara. They’re all holding drinks and bottles of champagne.

“Hi,” Clara says with a little wave.

“What’s up? Something wrong?” you ask as you approach.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Faith says warmly.

“Heard you’re going to bed,” Clara adds.

Tracey hiccups. “We’re here to tuck you in.”

You snort. “Did Annette put you up to this?”

Clara finishes her drink and gives you a challenging look. “Gonna let us in or not?” she asks, glancing at the keycard in your hand.

So your life has changed since FUTA. You used to be painfully insecure and undersexed. You have gained some experience and confidence since then, but not so much that you’re cool enough to say no to these three.

They follow you into the room, and you make it all of three steps before they’re unzipping your dress. You can’t help but laugh as Tracey tries to wrestle you onto the bed as Clara struggles with your specially-made control briefs, which can barely contain your meat.

A moment later you’re naked on your back, staring down at the three of them as they admire your rapidly hardening cock, running their hands over it. Clara gives it an experimental lick across the head, making you moan.

“Make her do that more,” Tracey says, and they’re off to the races.

You lie back, letting the feelings wash through you. Tongues, hands… but there’s a small complication that comes with this kind of endowment. Not all women can take it.

Annette can, amazingly. But Clara and Faith are a bit more petite than she is. Tracey… you open your eyes to see her on her back with her legs in the air, sliding off her thong. It looks like Tracey wants to try.

The other two laugh and help her straddle you, tweaking her nipples and giving her an encouraging pat on the backside. She’s so drunk that she doesn’t notice as she uses both hands to guide your cock.

“Be careful,” you try to warn her, but she sinks onto you so suddenly that it startles the others too. Faith’s eyes widen and Clara gasps.

“Ohh,” Tracey moans, closing her eyes and running her hands through her blonde hair. She arches her back and rolls her hips, her breasts jiggling. She’s in her own world. “Ohh. Yes.”

Faith and Clara exchange a look. It was all fun and games before this, but now they aren’t laughing. Clara peels off her jeans while a blushing Faith unzips her dress.

In their panties, then crawl back across the bed, Faith coming to you and Clara going to Tracey. The tattooed producer grasps Tracey’s breasts from behind her, squeezing them while Faith swoops in to kiss you, her silky hair tickling your face. You enjoy the kiss, and she guides your hand to her chest, where you appreciatively slide your hand over her skin and get a feel for her warm, slender body.

Tracey doesn’t last. She leans forward, almost knocking Faith out of the way and rides you more urgently, a look of intense concentration on her red face. She makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan and slumps on top of you, her lower half shaking. You rub her sweaty back, then slide your hands down to her fleshy bottom and give it a squeeze.

Clara helps roll her off you, and she’s snoring before her head even touches the pillow.

You, Faith, and Clara gaze down at her, trying not to laugh.

“She’s having a good night,” Faith remarks.

“She’s brave,” Clara says, her eyes on your hard shaft, which drips with Tracey’s juices. “Now I’m a wimp if I don’t try.” She flops on her back and slides off her panties. “Come on, Riley.”

“You sure?” you ask, stroking your shaft absently as your eyes travel up and down her tanned body, covered in ink. All the lights are on in the hotel room, and her piercings gleam.

She spreads her legs, already very wet.

“Yeah,” she says.

Faith lies down beside her on her side, nuzzling the other woman with her nose. Clara laughs, then gives in and kisses the brunette. You climb over her, feeling the stubble on Clara’s skin between her legs.

You enter her slowly, mindful of her body language. There’s a hint of discomfort, and you can see her flat belly not exactly bulge, but… accommodate your girth.

She breaks the kiss with Faith. “Slow,” she pants.

You give it to her slowly. Her breathing gives her away. Leaning forward to grind on her clit a little drives her wild, and it only takes a few gentle tugs on her nipple ring to make her pussy clamp down on your cock like a hot, wet bear trap.

Faith pulls back and Clara stares at the ceiling, her face shining with sweat.

“Fuck,” she breathes as you pull out. She instinctively closes her legs and rolls onto her side, quivering.

“Oh, little baby,” Faith coos, snuggling her from behind. Clara can’t even protest. She’s still cumming.

Your eyes are on Faith’s body, especially her pert bottom, which looks incredible in her simple, white panties. You lie down behind her, scooting close to press your body against hers. You brush her hair away from her ear.

“Your turn,” you whisper, running your hand over the curve of her hip.

She laughs and gives you a look. Yeah. Faith has enough sense to know that she can’t take something so big inside her. She pushes her rear back against your cock, making you gasp, then bumps you again. You obligingly roll onto your back and she slides her hips on top of you, her back against your chest and her hair in your face. She lets your erection pop up between her legs, then squeezes it with her thighs.

You reach around for her breasts as you kiss her neck. She wiggles her hips and uses her thighs to stroke your cock. You are so turned on that she could probably get you off like this. You needily push up with your hips, wanting nothing more than to bend her over, pull those panties down, and… you can’t do that.

Frustrated and half-crazy with lust, you push her off and climb on top of her, kissing her on the mouth.

“Mmm,” she moans, wrapping her arms around your neck. Your hand slips down her body to her panties, and inside them. She’s soaking wet down there, and two of your fingers slide inside her effortlessly. She wiggles and moans softly, then cries out when you find the right spot.

Faces close, you stare at each other as you aggressively finger her. She grabs your cock with both hands and strokes it, pulling the fleshy foreskin up over the head, then pulling it back down again in a fast rhythm.

Watching her face get redder and more **** with her hair fanned out around her on the pillow, her breaths becoming more ragged is more than you can take. You let out a noisy cry and cover her belly with cum. The sight of that spilling out onto her skin does it for her, and her insides crush your fingers.

You fall down beside her as she reaches between her legs to rub her clit, her arm smearing the mess that you made. On your back, you milk out the rest onto your own chest. This huge cock gives you bigger loads that linger and take longer to get out.

You catch your breath and take your bearings. Faith is still glowing, peering at you with something like reverence, curled up beside you. Tracey is snoring. Clara’s eyes are locked on your half-soft cock and the cum smeared everywhere as she rubs her clit.

You’re all naked and messy on top of the covers. They were supposed to tuck you in, but now someone has to tuck all four of you in. It won’t be you; you’re done.