Chapter #3A Fantastic Futa Future by: Unknown You strolled through the busy streets of London, taking in the fresh air as cars whizzed by. The clouds were sailing by above you, dispersing after a night full of rain, and the morning sunshine pierced through their veil to illuminate the walkways. A normal day as any other. You sighed.
"What's up, dude?" The man beside you said. "Getting nervous about the Duty again?"
You shrugged your shoulders. "Not really, Nathan. Just the usual."
Nathan Higgins -- that was the name of your friend. Your own name was Michael Anderson -- or Mike for short -- a 20-year old college student enrolled in biological engineering. Short -- about 5'7" in height -- and athletic, you were a man's man among your peers. You knew your friend since high school and it was impossible for the two of you to avoid each other. Not necessarily because you were two peas in a pod, but because you were the only peas in a pod.
A beautiful lady in stilettos passed the two of you, blond hair waving past her shoulders as she waved towards you and smiled. Nathan wolf whistled.
"Not bad. Definitely at least seven in my book!"
"Dude, didn't you see the huge bulge tenting her skirt?!" You retorted in disgust. "She's obviously a futanari."
Futanari. That was a word whose usage had spiked over the past 30 years. Originally from Japan, it's meaning was quite simple and easy to understand: dickgirl. Though once only used to refer to fictional characters, it had become a prominent reality.
In 2020, a devastating catastrophe of enormous proportions had occurred. A deadly virus escaped from a laboratory in the U.S. and became an air-born threat to humanity. It quickly multiplied and infected their human hosts, warping their DNA on an individual level to produce mutant freaks whose bodies didn't conform to either gender -- a futanari. By the time the disease spread worldwide, the male population had dwindled to 13% and the female to 5%. Fortunately, it appeared as if a select few were resistant to the virus and it slept in them, awaiting its release to another life.
Futanaris were hybrids of men and women; their biological makeup consisted of mostly feminine traits with one very noticeable exception -- their genitalia. Futanaris sported a penis of an unbelievable size, with the average erect member at 11 inches long and quite girthy. Their testicles were also 4 to 5 times the size of men's, capable of spewing 50 to 100 milliliters of semen at a time, with up to 150 in extreme cases.
Needless to say, this caused many problems within society. The mental illness called 'Futanari Penis Syndrome,' or FPS for short, arrived alongside the huge members. In essence, the illness was caused by a futanari sticking her dick into a man or woman's holes; brutally fucking them and permanently hooking them on futa cock like it was a drug. Since only a futanari child is be the only result of a woman's impregnation by a futanari, this caused a lot of problems as the victims no longer had any desire to reproduce -- or even work for that matter -- spending their days on the streets craving for futa cock.
As such, to prevent the extinction of the human race, the now-majority futanari government placed a ban on sex with 'normal humans', with offenders being punished with a life sentence in prison. However, there were still quite a few rule-breakers who ignored this edict, and a niche black-market was installed that specialized in such trafficking.
Similarly, men and women were not only encouraged, but practically forced to pair up and reproduce as much as possible. Driving licenses and other necessities were denied to 'pair-less humans' over the age of 25, which forced them to quickly search for a partner if they did not have one already.
As the resilient virus remained airborne and within human genes, it passed on from parents to children, which meant that there was a high chance that their 'normal children' would mutate into futanaris themselves, who would be swiftly snatched up by the government and placed into futanari homes. Not for the children's safety, of course, but for their parent's, as futanari children were quite prone to raping their own mothers and fathers, as people found out early on.
"Come on, man, futanaris are people too," your friend rebuked, as he glanced around to observe her ass sashaying away from him. "And they can be pretty hot!"
"Yeah," you rolled your eyes. "Until they stick their gargantuan penises into you. Remember: Futanaris. Are. Violent. God forbid you get inflicted with FPS."
"That's not very enlightened," Nathan chastised you. "Futanaris go as far as to even protect us from themselves. Yet here you are acting like a whiny bitch because you're scared of the Duty."
Ah, the Duty. As far as you were concerned, it was simply an abuse of power by the futanari-majority government. After it was discovered that futanaris exuded pheromones that gave them charisma and dominance over 'normal humans', men were quickly removed from military service after being thoroughly gang-raped by groups of futanaris. Instead, a new mandatory service emerged: the Dut'.
It appeared as if the virus didn't solely produce futanaris, as advances in the field of transformation technology discovered. It also remained within a man's DNA and, if irradiated by a high-intensity ultraviolet light, would do the unimaginable: the bones, sinews, tissues, and organs of the man would begin to warp and turn to fabric, and only one thing would remain in the place of a man -- panties. Only a high-intensity infrared + gamma combination light ray, only available in high-end laboratories, would change the panties back into a man.
Each man had a particular panties phenotype encoded into their DNA that the government would test for at the age of 20. That phenotype would determine the type, shape, and color of the panties the man would turn into. During this 'panties state', a man would remain conscious and retain his senses, such as smell, sight, and taste, but would otherwise be indistinguishable from normal underwear except for one caveat: they were able to absorb a far greater amount of fluids.
Naturally, this made them very popular with futanaris. Due to their testicle size and semen production, futanaris naturally expunged 'old semen' every three hours, which made for a messy situation as it leaked out onto floors of buildings, streets, and subways. Clothing engineers attempted to design firm underwear to remedy the problem, but hit a limit at an absorption capacity of 75 mL, which left many futanaris in dire straits.
...That is, until the Duty came along.
"It's not that. It's just..." You grumbled, scratching your chin. "Who wants to be stuck between a futa's legs for hours a day? I mean, just think about it! The musky smell of her... her ballsack slamming your face, her shitty asshole rubbing against your legs. The.. the horrifying amounts of sperm you have to drink up!" You wrinkled your nose, gagging as you imagined the sensation.
"Come on, it's not that bad," Nathan rolled his eyes at you. "Yeah, some of the guys that can come out of the whole thing are a little... you know." He twirled his finger on the side of his head. "But your chances of serving are kinda low. Hell, most men don't even serve at all during their lifetime!"
That was true. When the government drafted the Declaration of Unilateral Temporary Yielding Bill (widely known as the DUTY Bill), limits were imposed on the amount of men who were required to serve, since they didn't want to drive humanity to extinction. As the majority of men had the tier 1 'briefs' phenotype, they were largely ignored due to their unpopularity with futanaris. Even the more popular tier 2 types such as hipsters and boyshorts were selectively chosen based on color, shape, and decorations. Only elusive tier 3 types such as thongs and g-strings were guaranteed to serve due to their high demand.
"Not to mention that the government recently unraveled the budget where they said they'll spend $100 billion on things related to the Duty. Just think, you'll get to kick back on the couch with your girlfriend as mad stacks of cash roll into your pocket!"
"Quite an optimistic view," you snorted, but he did have a point. Anyone signed up for the Duty would receive a monthly paycheck from the government, even if they technically weren't serving at the time. And you heard that those that did would receive quite a hefty sum, becoming millionaires within 5 to 10 years. "Just hands off Steph, you're getting a little too antsy about her lately."
"Chill, chill," Nathan said, as he made a defensive gesture. "You know that she chose you over me back in high school. I may like her, but I'm not about to ruin a friendship over some fantasy."
"Thanks," you said sarcastically, though you knew that wasn't true. He was raving mad over her back when you two were teens, and it was quite evident that he got extremely pissed when he found out you two were going out. He even went as far as cutting off all communication with you for 2 years. It was only recently that the two of you began to mend your relationship.
The laboratory was quickly coming into view as you walked down the sidewalk, thinking about the incoming day. It was the day where Nathan and you were about to get tested for your phenotype and find out what fate awaited you. You could only hope that Nathan was right in his assessment and you were going to be back at home by the end of it, eating ice cream with Stephanie and laughing the whole thing off as one giant joke.
What phenotype are you going to be diagnosed at?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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