A male peasant

You shiver as you stand in line, thankful that the day is at least somewhat warm. You're fully in the nude, and the experience distracts you from listening to the Futani high priestess' sermon. You've missed a fair amount of it while thinking about your exposed body or the life you've suddenly left behind, but you hear her raise her voice and snap back to attention.

"On this year, the fifth year, the high year, you have been selected as tribute from your villages, to deliver their gratitude to the queen and almighty Futani herself by pledging servitude to a futanari. You are the choicest of your villages, the most pleasing to the eye. In exchange for your servitude, our cherished nation of Futallion will deliver your homes safety and prosperity. Give thanks to Futani for this opportunity to receive the direct love and attention of a futanari, one of Futani's messengers."

You were never a terribly devout man. Futanism clearly favors futanari, as the whole kingdom of Futallion does. Still, you never fail to deliver a morning prayer to Futani - you would be jerking off anyway, so you might as well devote it to the goddess.

Cheers ring out as the high priestess' sermon concludes, and you turn to the left as you were instructed to earlier. At the sides of the large parade grounds in front of the palace where you stand, a number of futanari have been waiting, and they finally step forward to begin the selection.

You haven't seen too many futanari in your life - you grew up in a small village, while most futanari live in cities or countryside mansions. Your main exposure was the local priestess, an older but kindly futa. She was always pretty despite her age - you've been told that ugly futanari simply don't exist - but the ones coming towards you were stunning in a way you weren't expecting.

Futanism claims that futanari have divine blood, and it's hard to argue when looking at one. They're impressively tall - seven feet minimum, and usually a fair bit beyond that. Their bodies tend to lean towards extremes, from natural, bulky muscle to jiggling, plush curves, but all of them have one thing in common - two massive cocks, complete with an equally massive ballsack. The smallest one you can see is the length of your forearm.

Futanari don't hide their futahood - futa fashion barely leaves anything to the imagination, with cocks sitting comfortably in socks decorated with ribbons and stitchwork, and balls kept from swaying uncontrollably by lacy bras. For most, it's the centerpiece of the outfit, though some in the approaching crowd highlight impressive bouncing breasts or heavy, swaying asses instead. Your own cock rises to attention at the sight. You're not small for a man, but it might as well be an inch long when compared to any futanari's.

The futanaris reach where you're standing and begin their inspection. Though you were warned it would happen, you flinch when the first fingertips brush over your skin. Hands turn your head this way and that, appraising eyes judge your complexion, and occasionally futanari cocks lurch as they start to become erect. The other men to your sides are equally nervous, from what you can see. The woman are on the other side of the parade grounds, being inspected by yet more futanari, and you assume they're also tense right now.

The hands grow bolder, and you yelp as someone gropes your ass. You don't have time to look back at who did it, as another futa rubs one of your nipples, and yet another cradles your balls, weighing them for unknown reasons. Your reactions elicit thoughtful murmurs or giggles from your inspectors. You wonder if that means they like what they see. Your question is soon answered when one futanari reaches full mast, putting you face-to-face with the first erect futa cocks you've seen in your life.

The rumors you heard are true - there's more to a futa cock than size. Through the fabric of the cock sock, you see a cluster of large bumps near the head. You've been told that every pair of cocks is unique, with ribs, ridges, nubs, knots, exotically shaped heads, and all sorts of other features. It makes you wonder what sort of cocks your new owner will have.

Some of the futanari around you start to wander away, investigating other options. You wonder to yourself if its possible to not get picked until a futanari stops in front of you.