The World’s First Futa – Futa’s Wicked Campaign

Chapter Three: Futa’s First Wild Debate

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

April 17th, 2047

“So it’s the Saturday before the election,” Adelia said, the caramel-skinned talk show host who was interviewing me, “and you’re finally included in the final presidential debate.”

“Yep,” I said, shaking my head in disgust. “The Republicans and Democrats were both sweating. They felt the heat of my campaign. They didn’t want me out on stage, didn’t want to give me more of a platform, but they couldn’t go against public opinion.” I smiled. “It helped that CNN, hosting the debate, was also friendly to me. After all, that interview they had with me after my first time as a cheerleader saved their network from Fox News’s dominance in the ratings.”

Adelia smiled. “And what a wild debate it was. I think everyone in the audience can remember watching it.”

A great, whooping cry came from the audience followed by their thunderous applause. I shifted on the couch, smiling out at the shadowy women, and a few of my futa-daughters, who filled the stage. It was such a wondrous sound to hear. I drank it in, remembering all those campaign rallies leading up to that wonderful day where I stood proud before on stage with the two other candidates and debated my case to be president of the United States.

“You showed the world how your diplomacy would go,” Adelia said. “But what was it like for you up there on the stage with Senator Glory Olson and Senator Henry Millner?”

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

November 1st, 2036

I drew in a deep breath as I stood before the country, my podium so short. I didn’t have my usual one. No tight, young pussy wrapped about my cock to keep me distracted. Luckily, there were no women I’d never fucked close enough to distract me. I stood in the center of the stage, my Republican opponent, Senator Glory Olson, to my right and Senator Henry Millner, my Democratic opponent, on my left. I’d fucked Glory when we were both eighteen years and years ago. So she didn’t need to be bred now and could control herself around me.

Only one women that I knew was in the studio I hadn’t bred, and she was backstage somewhere. Though I had a feeling she would be keeping a close eye on the event, her pussy soaking wet as she thought about getting fucked by me.

My heart beat fast. My palms were sweaty. It was so different underneath the hot studio lights. There was no audience for this debate. I didn’t have my supports cheering me on. CNN wanted no distractions. I couldn’t use being a futa to my advantage.

Which sucked, because that was who I was. The world’s first futa. It would be how I ran the presidency, and how I united the world. I was the union of male and female passions, a fusion of opposites to form something new. Something better.

I was an example to the world.

Glory Olson shifted beside me. She had rosy cheeks and her eyes kept glancing at me. I vaguely remembered her from my college days. She attended the orgies I used to hold in the dorms, one of the girls I fucked again and again. I had a daughter with her named Gina who was working against me for her mother.

I couldn’t be mad that she sided with Glory and not me.

Glory was a beauty still, thirty-seven like me, her red hair pulled back into a bun, not as vibrant as I dimly recalled from those wild college orgies. Her green eyes were hard but she kept licking her lips as she glanced at me.

I winked back at her.

Henry Millner, my democratic opponent, was old and stodgy. He had white hair. He stood tall and commanding. He had a regal, presidential bearing about him. He was a smooth speaker who energized crowds of mostly men these days. My daughter, Rebecca, briefed me that he believed I would show the world that I was nothing more than an empty-headed bimbo with no real solutions. He expected a miracle to happen tonight.

Amelia McCreery moderated. The young reporter I fucked live on CNN eighteen years ago had matured into a delicious beauty, her youthfulness traded for that reserved poise a woman of experience, her body still fit and tight, her lips still kissable. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, emphasizing her narrow, delicate features.

“Becky Woodward,” Amelia asked, “people say your only skill is having sex. How will you negotiate with foreign powers?”

“By bringing us together,” I answered with confidence, glancing at the camera and speaking straight to the American voters just the way my futa-daughter Leah advised. “I will unite with them and show them my passion and what they will gain by being America’s friend.”

“You’re going to fuck them?” Glory asked, the Republican arching a fiery eyebrow at me.

“Maybe,” I answered, giving her a smoky smile. My girl-dick throbbed as a flash of her teardrop-shaped breasts heaving over me as she rode my cock strobed through my mind.

“Even though most world leaders are men?” She pursed her smile. “I thought you were allergic to men’s cum.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with men,” I said. “There are plenty of husbands who didn’t mind me joining them in bed with their wives.”

“The U.S. voters need a strong leader,” Henry Millner said, speaking in that deep, commanding baritone. “They need someone who will lead by example, not by being the trash you’d see on daytime television. A leader can’t be frivolous.”

I bristled, shooting a glare at the older man. “Frivolous? You think I’m frivolous.”

“What else would you call a woman who’s idea of a political campaign rally is deflowering a virgin on stage and breeding her?” He arched an eyebrow. “That’s as frivolous as a person can get.”

“There is nothing frivolous about my desire to change America!” I looked at the cameras. “I want to bring America and the World together like never before! I want peace and love, not war and hate.”

“And you’ll do it by being a slut?” Glory asked.

“You loved being my slut in college,” I shot at her. “Don’t you remember how you begged me to cum in your cunt? How you licked my cum out of every girl’s cunt or asshole you could find.”

“Becky, your time is up,” Amelia said. “Glory, a thirty second rebuttal to the accusation that you, too, are a slut.”

“Yes, I was your slut, Becky,” she said, speaking bold, with passion. She gazed at the camera. “What woman isn’t the first time they meet you? But I grew out of it. I’m not eighteen and writhing in an orgy. I had to grow up. I couldn’t just whore myself around the world. I had to raise the daughter you abandoned.”

A flush washed through me.

“And not just the daughter I had with you. I’ve been mentoring hundreds of the daughters you’ve mothered on women then forgot about them. While you were fucking your way across the entire world, I was helping to mold and shape these young futanari who had to grow up only seeing your antics on TV, never getting to know you in person.

“I even married one, and she’ll be America’s First Lady because you won’t ever see me conducting diplomacy on my back!”

“You forget, I do the fucking,” I said, giving her a venomous smile. “I won’t be on my back.”

“You are an utter disgrace to this country’s dignity!”

“That’s your time, Senator Olson.” Amelia glanced at Senator Millner. He stood dignified like he was above Glory and me, standing aloof while we wrestled in the mud. “Russia continues to be a thorn in the U.S.’s side. Senator Millner, how will you deal with them?”

“Sanctions will have to continue,” Senator Millner. “I voted for them when President Gutierrez asked for them, and I agree that we need to continue to take a hard line with Moscow. We can’t allow them to do the things they have in the past. We will have security and peace in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, not the rise of another Russian hegemony.”

“Because penalties work so well,” I said, staring at the cameras. “Every psychologist and behavioral sociologist will tell you that positive reinforcement is far more effective than negative. Dr. Skinner proved this nearly a hundred years ago. We need to stop dividing the world and instead unite it.



“I intend to make Russia our ally. To work with Moscow to bring about a better future for everyone.”

“By cucking the Russian president?” Glory asked, giving me a nasty look. “I’m sure Demyan Ignatov will love it if you fuck his wife right before him. You could join them in their bed in the Kremlin.”

“Indeed,” Henry said. “What man would welcome that perversity.”

“Oh, he would welcome it,” I said. I winked at Henry. “And so would you. Your wife is a fine woman.”

“There is no need to bring my wife into this!” he growled, true emotion flashing across his face. There was anger in there, but I could see something else. Fear. Not of me, but… of himself. He shifted, his hands gripping the podium. Did he need to readjust himself.

I know I did. My cock was throbbing hard. Just thinking about cuckolding his wife, a gorgeous woman in her forties, had my futa-dick, pulsing in my panties. My pussy was growing wet. She could still have one more child. I could breed her.

A furtive movement caught my eyes. They flicked to the edge of the stage, the curtain leading to the back shifting. A smile grew on my lips, my dick aching even more. I drew in a deep breath, my blood screaming through my veins.

“Well,” Amelia said, clearing her throat. “Senator Olson, with Saudi Arabia making steps towards giving their women more rights, what will you do to see they gain even more?”

“By showing them how strong women are,” Glory said, voice ringing. “I’ll be the second woman president, and I won’t suffer for my predecessor’s flaws.” She kept her back straight. “I will earn the Arab countries’ respect.”

“I’ll just fuck the King of Saudi Arabia’s wives.” I smiled. “I’ve seen pics. They’re quite attractive. He’ll love it.”

“Fuck his wives,” Henry said, his voice strained.