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

Chapter One: Futa’s First Hot Game Show

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

April 17th, 2047

I was still riding the emotional high of declaring to the world just how much I loved my young wife. Though our relationship was only four years and four months old, she had become my world. I had to wait until I was in my forties to meet my soulmate, but I did. The moment I laid eyes on Sharron, eighteen and quivering, she stole my heart.

After talking about attending the wedding of Sharron’s parents, my ex-boyfriend Kurt to his soulmate Rosemary, and spending the wedding night with the happy couple fucking the bride as many times as I could, I just had to share to the world the depths of my love for Sharron.

“And we’re back in thirty seconds,” the male producer said.

I nodded my head, the makeup guy—when dealing with me, it was best to use men since women could lose control and fuck me, especially if they’ve never been bred by me before—touched up my mascara and the foundation on my cheeks after the tears of joy I shed.

Sharron still fanned her face as she just stood off stage.

“Wow,” Adelia said as she took her place on the couch. Like me, she needed her makeup fixed. The caramel-skinned, mixed-race talk show host gave me a big smile. “That had to keep viewership high, and I can just imagine the amount of rewatches that clip will generate.”

“I’m sure there’s already a dozen videos on YouTube remixed of it with sappy music playing. Like Sarah McLachlan or something.”

“Ah, yes, oldies are always nice to put on songs.”

I shook my head. I was a little young to know Sarah McLachlan at her height during the Nineties, but I forgot that I had a decade on Adelia. Then I shivered, remembering that Nirvana played on oldie rock networks on Spotify and Pandora these days.

Where had the years gone?

“Well,” Adelia said, “you good to continue, Becky? That almost wiped me out.”

“I am,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t think talking about that night would bring up such emotions and…”

My words trailed off as Adelia held up her hand. “Let’s save that for when we’re live. Which is in…?”

“Five seconds,” the male producer answered. He stood between two of the cameras streaming this interview live to the world. Behind him lurked the shadowy studio audience. I could feel them still buzzing with the emotional high they shared in.

“Welcome back,” Adelia said smoothly when the red lights blinked on atop the camera. “For those just joining in, I’m here with President Becky Woodward celebrating her forty-eighth birthday. We’ve been talking about her life as the world’s first futa. You just missed out on an emotional display as she discussed attending the wedding of her ex-boyfriend, Kurt Albertson. The very man whose cum triggered her transformation.”

“Hard to forget a guy that changes your life,” I quipped, sitting up straight.

“I bet,” Adelia said. “Now, you said that you realized how empty your life was after seeing him wit his new bride, Rosemary.”

“I was twenty-three, been a futa for four-and-a-half years. I never had a girlfriend in all of that time. I was just having sex. Five or six different women a day. Sometimes more. It was pleasure, pure hedonism. I was breeding nubile virgins and married MILFs. It was incredible, but seeing Kurt and Rosemary’s love reminded me of what I would have had if this never happened.

“Kurt and I would have been in that much love. Or so I always thought.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what would my life had been like if I hadn’t changed, but I thought I’d have what Rosemary did. And now… I felt it’s loss. I didn’t have a purpose.”

“So did you go out and try to find one?” Adelia asked.

“I started to, but it was just easier for me to get lost in the pleasure of new pussy. It was such a… distraction.”

Adelia laughed, rich and full of honest joy. “Mmm, I bet it was.”

“I didn’t find a purpose until I was nominated for president. That really sharpened my life into focus.” I shrugged. “But that didn’t have for… what, another fifteen years. So I just spent the rest of my twenties and half my thirties just… existing. I did weird jobs, whatever amusements I could find to change things up before it got boring.”

“Like starring in a porno about your own life?” Adelia asked.

“That was… novel.” I leaned back. “I think the Japanese game show was one of the weirdest things I experienced during this time. It was… a couple years after the wedding, maybe three and…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 7th, 2025

I had no idea what the announcer was saying as he spoke in such rapid Japanese. I barely knew any of the language. It wasn’t that hard living in Tokyo when you only spoke English, and the TV studio was a big help, providing me with so many comforts so they could have me for their new game show: “Futanari Explosion!”

Yep, they used the English word there and it always made me giggle when the announcer said it in this super dramatic voice struggling with the word. The Japanese, I’d learned, had a hard time with L’s and multiple consonants piled together.

The host, Osamu Kato, had such energy. The balding, short Japanese man, his skin a dark shade of olive, raced up and down the stage as he cheered on the dozen or so women who were running an obstacle course in order to win the grand prize of the game: getting fucked by me live on Japanese TV.

I kept hearing my name, pounced as “Bakukee,” shouted by Mr. Osamu as he screamed into his microphone. The dozen women were racing forward through suspended punching bags painted garish shades of pinks and purples. They knocked the naked women around, making their luscious tits jiggle. All were native Japanese women in their twenties or thirties, fit and sexy. The first three to make it to the end would participate in the rest of the show.

My dick ached and throbbed as I watched the lead woman—an energetic Japanese gal with round, bouncing tits—burst out of the swinging punching bags and raced to a balance beam over what looked to a pit full of vanilla pudding.

The watching crowd whooped and cheered as the naked woman stepped out onto the thin beam, her arms thrust out before her. Her silky, black hair danced about her shoulders as her dainty feet stepped across it.

The end of the obstacle course loomed before her. She just had to navigate a steep slope with a moat of a black, tar-like liquid at the bottom. Maybe it was chocolate syrup. Or, here in the Japan, it could have been something else.

They had such weird snack foods.

A second woman burst out of the punching bags, young and youthful. She darted out onto the beam with such confidence. She made it two steps before she slipped. I winced as she fell, straddling the beam, my pussy clenching in sympathy as her small tits bounced. Then she rolled to the right and fell into the pudding.

The crowd cheered louder. Mr. Osamu shouted in his microphone while striking a strange pose. He wore a purple tracksuit of all things, a gold medallion dangling about his neck like he was some sort of rap star.

More women were bursting out of the punching bags. The bottleneck to get on the balance beam had them all tousling and scrambling together. A busty woman gasped as she was pushed off, her hair streaking around her face as she went splat into the pudding, her tits heaving.

These women were ravenous to have sex with me.

A tall and slender woman was the next across the balance beam while the first was leaping to the slope. She grasped a bump and began climbing up it to the top while the slender woman darted across the beam in record time. Other women were falling into the pudding, but another two managed to cross.

Mr. Osamu was almost hysterical, his face going ruddy as he screamed into the microphone. That first woman hauled herself to the top and smacked one of the three buttons. Then she bounced on her heels and thrust out her fingers in a V while the cameras recorded her perky body and heaving tits.

She was sexy. They all were.

My futa-dick ached and throbbed. I wondered if I would get to fuck her before the nation of Japan. I fisted my girl-cock as I waited, a camera trained on me. I winked at it, my blonde hair falling about my face, my round tits swaying. The second woman reached the top, smacking another button. Her small tits jiggled as she threw an arm into the air and cried out in Japanese:

“Yatta!”

I had no idea what it meant.

Two women, one short and busty and the other petite and girlish, jumped for the slope at the same time. The short woman’s big tits heaved before her. She smacked into the side and grasped one of the round protrusions on the slope. The petite girl hit the slope. She gasped, scrambled for purchase, then tumbled. She let out a gasp before rolling down and landing in the thick, dark syrup. Her tiny tits quivered, the sauce spilling up them as she squirmed on her rump.

The busty girl made it to the top and hit the last button.

“Winners!” shouted Mr. Osamu in English.

And just like that, the lights died as the first commercial break went in. I groaned, my pussy leaking juices down my thighs. This was the premier episode of the game show, and it was wild. I couldn’t believe the obstacle course these girls had to run through. They were all so eager for it, too. The winning girls were brought over to me. The all smiled at me, their eyes so smoky.

I learned their names then.

The first girl was Junko. She had an energetic bounce about her and a cute, round face. Her breasts swayed as she couldn’t stop moving. She gave me a cute wave and fluttered her eyes at me before breaking into giggles.

The second girl, the tall and slender one, was more reserved but still obviously eager to be here. She kept fingering her nipples as she wiggled her hips. Her name was Hanako.