Chapter 2: Grassroots

The Village of Tordon, United Futa Territories

Evelyn Fan agreed to this interview only tentatively, and insisted it take place at a neutral location outside her home. After I was finished with Tara, I took the train to this village. I meet with Evelyn in the park by the lake. It's early spring, and there's still some chill in the air. While the view is spectacular, we are isolated here. Nobody else enters the park for the duration of our conversation.

Evelyn is an attractive asian woman, around 5'7, with a slender form and B cup breasts. She wears a coat against the chill, and a hat to ward off rain or sun. I sit beside her on the bench, and she begins without preamble.

What you need to understand is none of this was organized, none of this was planned. The United Futa Front, the Friends of Futa, Binders Anonymous; all the big groups came later. None of us knew anything in the beginning, least of all what had happened to us. I was no different; I changed because my roommate's boyfriend did, I don't know how he caught it. He just got sick one day, so she invited him to spend the night so she could watch over him.

The next day, "he" had become a true futa, and quickly bound my roommate; then she moved on to me. One **** was all it took; within two days I was a futa too. I looked into spread charts once, just curiosity. I was probably one of the first few in my city, maybe the first conversion in my city, my vector had been traveling for business.

We spent a week not leaving the apartment, taking turns on my roommate. She loved every minute of course, the bound are like that. When that first brush of lust was spent we just sat there, our heads spinning, unsure what to do. My roommate, Evie by the way, and June, as our new friend christened herself, were still smitten with each other, and didn't really want to add me as a permanent third.

June, meanwhile, didn't fit into any of her old clothes, and just started wearing mine. Which was rude, but then, it's not like she could go into work again, could she?

Those problems were how it started really. We needed money, food, and people to fuck. So we started hitting the clubs. The tactics I taught later, the ones the infiltrators used, the ones that all the laws are now meant to stop, there was no plan behind them, no higher purpose. We weren't trying to be the vector bomb, I just wanted to get my dick wet. Of course, some things never change.

She stands then, her long coat falling open. She undoes her belt, loosing her fly, and sighs as her dick springs free, no longer constrained by her pants. She's around six inches long and thin, a small patch of dark pubic hair at the base. She comes to stand in front of me, so I open my mouth, as expected. She stares down as she feeds her cock past my lips, one hand resting lightly on my shoulders. She thrusts gently, setting a steady pace as she explores my mouth and throat with her cock. My dictaphone keeps recording, even as I become otherwise occupied, her story resuming.

One or another of us would hit the clubs, seeing who we could snare. It was so easy, frat boys especially, so eager to go home with the slut they found. Me and June would take turns on them all night, before we made them walk home the next morning. If they were nice, we let them shower the cum out of their hair first.

It was so easy, so many horny **** guys, all so ashamed at what we did to them that they would never dare tell anyone what we'd done. Of course, some came back, hell some didn't want to leave. Those schmucks, the bound like my roommate were how we started snaring women too. They would do anything we asked, accept anything, just so we'd fuck them again. Do you know how intoxicating that is, that feeling of power?

Of course, no good thing could last forever. We tore through the club scene in a month, until damn near every frat guy, finance bro, and would be stud had ended up on his knees in our flat, futa cocks resizing his ass, load after load of cum in their stomachs. That's when other reports started appearing on the news.

I try to ask a followup, but my mouth is a bit full. I cock an eyebrow inquisitively at her instead. She laughs, her cock twitching in my mouth, smooth on my tongue, bumping at the entrance to my throat.

The missing persons, the relatives who fell out of contact, all the schmucks who woke up one morning and realized their face no longer matched their ID, their clothes no longer fit, and their roommate had a nice rapable ass. Reports vary about how many futa need to be in a city before critical mass is reached, but by a month and a half in, we were there. Our city wasn't alone of course, New Friesland was simply the first to acknowledge the problem publicly, the first where the cops and journos saw what was staring them in the face and dared acknowledge it.

The collapse of New Friesland is when the war began. That was when we had to get organized.