Sam, the Futa, for the Futa League

Life has always been abit different due to your condition. You have the appearance of an Amazonian woman, 6’5, with a physic that shows you could clearly handle any sport you would ever want to attempt. Your skin is pale dispite your time in the sun, with a smattering of freckles on your cheeks. Your hair is a deep red, often in a ponytail but able to hang down straight to your shoulders. With the breasts and curves to make any woman jealous, but the intimidating height and muscles to make men quiver, it is hard enough to find a partner with just your looks, let alone the 10 inch suprise you keep hidden in every day life.

If your social life wasn’t enough of a problem, some co workers at the gym you trained at recently found out about your extra condition, and schemed to have you fired. You were barely making enough to cover going to college before, but now you desperately needed the extra income to survive.

Grabbing the flyer, you wondered if this could be your ticket. You knew you could handle any man or woman that came at you, and getting to unleash some frustration could be fun. You then notice the symbol on the lower right corner, what looks like a female and male symbol combined, and wonder if it could be what you think it is. You know your condition is not unique, in fact it is rumored in your world about one percent of women were packing, but since it was somewhat taboo you’ve never met another. Hoping this could be your chance, you rush home to change into sexual gym attire, and use the last of your money to Uber downtown to the location.

The building is an old warehouse in the middle of the labor district, covered in graffiti. Finding an old door at the top of a small staircase, you hesitantly knock.