The World’s First Futa – Futa’s Naughty Hitchhiking

Chapter Three: Futa’s First Passionate Ritual

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

April 17th, 2047

“Surreal?” asked Amelia, her face growing serious, her eyes growing bold. I could see that skilled interviewer inside of her pouncing on my words. For most of our talk as we discussed my life as the world’s first futa, she was laughing and giggling and horny to fuck me. Now she was focused. “In what way was it surreal?”

“Because… I don’t know any other word to describe discovering the cult,” I said, feeling like that same wide-eyed twenty-two year-old futa who wandered into that little town. It happened twenty-six years ago, and it still had me feeling a little… unnerved. “Here I was on my hitchhiking adventure. It was late September, fall was coming on fast, and I was thinking about heading south because the weather was getting bad. I was passing through central Kansas, meeting more of these little churches who had adopted the ideology of West Texas.” A smile crossed my lips. I squirmed on the couch, feeling the eyes of the studio audience, and the world watching live over the internet, on me. “Those rural Christians really liked having me breed their wives and daughters.”

“All that repression has to burst out sometimes,” Adelia said. “So you were in Kansas when you ran into the cult?”

“Well, yeah, that’s where they are located to this day. Omitz, Kansas is a whole lot bigger today than it was twenty-six-years ago. They’ve really blossomed with devotees, but back then it was a sleepy town, only four blocks by four blocks wide. A perfect square surrounded by wheat fields. I didn’t think anything of it. It was Sunday, and I was eager to find me a righteous woman or three to breed with my ‘miraculous’ seed.

“And then a man walked up to me in a white robe…”

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September 26th, 2021

I blinked in shock at the man falling to his knees before me in what looked like a white baptismal robe. I’d seen more than a few of those at the rural churches I visited. I even “baptized” a few women in my futa-jizz before they licked each other clean, not wanting to waste any of my “miraculous” seed before I bred them.

Of course, those girls didn’t wear anything, their nubile bodies flushed and quivering.

My dick twitched hard beneath my jean skirt while the man then bowed before me, prostrating himself for a moment. I looked around at the near empty street. It was all residential houses. Omitz was the county seat, and like a lot of these rural towns it had a gas station, a church, and a small government building for the county seat that doubled as the sheriff’s office. It had maybe a dozen homes and existed solely for the farms around it.

“Um…” I said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, rising before me. “It’s just… it’s you.” He produced a phone from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure this app was to be believed, but here you are, Futanari.”

“Here I am,” I said. No one had ever just called me futanari like it was a title or my proper name. “Um, and you are?”

“Brother Gavin Stern,” he said. He pointed to the white-steeped church, looking like it was built a hundred-and-fifty years ago during pioneer times. “That’s my church, and I would be honored if you visited. We have four virgin daughters all quivering and ready to be blessed by you, Futanari. They prayed so fervently that you’d appear. We’ve monitored your holy wanderings all summer, hoping you’d visit us.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, my futa-cock reaching its full girth, tenting the front of my jean skirt. “I enjoy spreading my seed to every virgin daughter I can. And, of course, the not-so-virgin daughters and wives. They all deserve to be blessed by my cock. Be fruitful and multiply, right? That’s the command.”

“Yes, yes, I see that,” he breathed. “You do that everywhere you go. You spread your seed far and wide so we multiply! The women of my flock would be honored to be vessels for your holy daughters.”

Christian theology was getting weirder and weirder thanks to my wanderings, but I had no complaints. I never had a man fawn so much over me, but they were always eager for the Lord’s “miracle” to bless their women. Maybe the Lord did send me. I didn’t know why I changed.

Science really couldn’t explain my futa-cock, but God, at least the Christian God, didn’t feel right. He was such a downer on sex, and I was the exact opposite. I’d think maybe the Devil sent me, but the Mother Superior brandishing her crucifix at me did nothing.

No, no, I wasn’t supernatural. I was hanging out with these religious people too much. Their ideas were seeping into my mind. Just because science couldn’t explain something yet, didn’t mean the answer wasn’t out there.

I followed Brother Gavin down the road. He walked with such eagerness. Ahead, a few other men were waiting on the porch. They were all older, like him, and all wearing the same white robes. They watched us approach, their faces weathered by working outdoors on farms.

“That’s Brothers Lucio, Tyson, and Neil,” Gavin said. “Its our four daughters who are all virgins and ready to blessed. They’re good girls, kept themselves pure into their adult years. My own Jocelin is nineteen and proud of her abstinence.

“Proud she saved herself for you, Futanari.”

“Well, I’m proud of her, too,” I said, my futa-dick aching so badly. Four virgins? Oh, what a treat. I didn’t find that many at the convent I visited a month-and-a-half ago.

“It is truly her,” the Hispanic man waiting said, not a hint of any Latino accent in his voice. He sounded wholly country, speaking with the same Kansas twang as Brother Gavin instead of any Central American lilt. “Blessed be her Holy Seed.”

“Praise your Miraculous Cock,” a blond man with short hair said. “My Krystine is beside herself with joy. She’s waiting inside for you, Futanari.”

“They all are,” the fourth said, a tall man with long, black hair gathered in a ponytail. “Meadow will not waste a single drop of your precious seed, Futanari.”

“Meadow, what a pretty name,” I said, my futa-dick throbbing.

Beyond them, the doors to the church were open. I saw other men wearing white robes and women all naked. Most were older women, their figures motherly and plump, their breasts soft and swaying. My futa-dick throbbed—I had a thing for older, married women thanks to the second pussy I ever enjoyed.

I still savored getting together with Kurt’s mother. Mrs. Albertson was always a treat to enjoy, especially with her step-daughter and lover joining the fun. Or with her husband watching. And there were so many husbands to watch me here.

I was shocked by the nudity of the women. I usually had to talk the married women into joining the fun, but my pheromones always brought them around. These women were ready for the fun.

The naked women and robed men stood amid the wooden pews that ran in two columns towards the raised dais at the far side. There four young women knelt, each lovely in her own way. My pussy clenched at the sight of them, the blonde was obviously Krystine, her face delicate, her breasts round and quivering. She was in the middle with the Hispanic girl who had black hair and, to my surprise, a landing strip of soft down leading to a shaved pussy. On the left flank knelt a girl with short, black hair who must be Meadow. She had large and perky breasts. The last girl had Gavin’s dark-brown hair and his round ears, but Jocelin’s green eyes must come from her mother. She wore glasses that perched on a delicate nose, her breasts small and delicious.

“Mmm, I am…” my words trailed off as I noticed what was behind the four girls.

A statue of me, cast in bronze, reared above the girls. It was too scale, naked, shaped with arms spread wide and round breasts thrust taut before me. The artist depicted me legs spread wide and with my futa-dick thrusting from the folds of my pussy and the curls of my blonde bush. My eyes widened at that thick shaft.

Why was there a life-sized statue of me here?

My brows furrowed. Then I noticed the stain glass windows running the length of the worship hall. I gaped. Instead of the usual Christian imagery of the crucifixion or the various apostles, it was me. There was a panel showing me fucking at the football game, my cock ramming into Sabrina’s cunt as she knelt naked before me. Beside that image was me fucking Amelia during our interview right after that, and then the viral picture of the president of my college getting plowed from behind by me as we stood up through the sunroof of the limo. They even had me fucking the busty, lactating winner of the first Ms. Bred Pageant.

“W-what is this?” I gasped as the naked women of the church began filing to the front where the statue lay.

“The Holy Church of the Futanari Goddess,” Brother Gavin breathed. “Three years ago, after your miraculous appearance at the football game, our entire congregation recognized your virtue. We became your most fervent worshipers, recruiting all we could We remolded our church and prayed for you to appear.”

“Futanari!” moaned a woman with green eyes and small breasts who looked like an older version of Jocelin. “We are so honored by your Divinity.” Then she bent over and backed her pussy onto the bronze cock thrusting from the statue. “We worship you with all our bodies and souls.”

She quivered there for a moment, impaled on the dick sculpted like mine. Then she pulled off of it, leaving it glistening in her pussy juices. The next lady, the only Hispanic woman, knelt before the cock, sucked on the tip and the first woman’s juices before she rose, bent over, and impaled her cunt down her cock.

“We worship you with all our bodies and souls, Futanari!” she moaned, such ecstasy crossing her face.

I stood there stunned. As much as this weirded me out—it was so surreal seeing this old church turned into a pagan cult worshiping me—it also made me so hard. These women moaned and gasped as they impaled their cunts on the bronze cock before the next woman tasted their passion on it and added her own. My futa-dick tented the front of my shorts. Juices spilled down my thighs as I felt drawn down the aisle.

The men all clapped a beat, their voices deep and rumbling. It was a hymn of praise to me, the words lost in the tumult of my mind. Just as I reached the dais, the four girls then crowded around the bronze dick slathered in the pussy juices of the last woman, a Black MILF who was clearly not related to any of the four.

One by one, the four virgins sucked on the tip.