Futa Explosion: Four Hot Futa Stories

by Lyka Bloom

  "Of course, my Queen." When I turned back to face our guest, I saw that she'd already slipped both pants and panties down her legs, allowing her to spread her legs wide.

  I placed my shiny pink lips around the nub of her clitoris and kissed it softly, leaving a ring of lipstick around it. I thought she tasted a bit odd, but perhaps it was just that I'd grown so used to the taste of the Queen. Strange as it was, it was not unpleasant. Her clitoris was certainly softer, with a different texture than a cock, but the shape was one my mouth had long become accustomed to - even if it was so small. I slowly took her clit into my mouth, coating it with saliva, and then began gently sucking while slowly pulling away.

  After a few minutes of this, I let my tongue trace a path down through the moist center of her valley, swirling it back and forth against the insides of her fat, swollen lips. Now, this was a taste that I remembered fondly, and one that wasn't so very different from the Queen's own vagina. I wiggled my face between her lips and drove my tongue as deep into her hole as I could, licking and thrusting my way inside her.

  "Mmmm." Our guest moaned in delight. Apparently, she quite liked that, judging by the way she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me hard against the dampness of her sex. "Tell me, oh glorious Queen." She was writhing upon her chair, thrusting forward to meet my tongue, all but fucking herself upon my face. "From . . . from where do your kind originate?" This was a feeling I remembered very well from my days upon the mainland, although I suspected it had been quite some time since she had last enjoyed such pleasure. "I must admit," she suddenly groaned deeply, her thighs tightening about my head, "your complexion has me perplexed."

  I knew very well what she was talking about. I had spent many an hour contemplating that very same question. The Queen - and all futa, by extension - seemed to be of all races and none. There was something of the indigenous people to her skin; something of the Orient to her eyes; and something of the Mediterranean to the bones of her face. Her hair looked almost Nordic, while her curves were far more European.

  By contrast, outsiders like the First Lady looked almost plain and boring, despite her well-cultivated beauty.

  Once her thighs relaxed, I turned my head to first one side, then the other, kissing and nibbling gently upon the lips of her vagina. I pulled the loose flesh between my lips and sucked hard upon it. She squealed as she thrust herself against me once more. The First Lady wasn't quite a squirter, but she was messy when she came. Juices were running down my face and her legs, making the both of us slippery with cum.

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk." I wasn't sure if the Queen was smiling, but I could hear the strain in her voice. She did not like to be questioned about her kind's origins, and our guest knew it. "Let us speak of other things. In fact, perhaps we should enjoy the moment and allow Brandi to do her work with only the symphony of lust to accompany her."

  Having shown the First Lady's hole the love it deserved, I returned my attention to her clitoris, which had grown significantly while I was busy. This time, when I took it into my mouth, there was almost an inch of semi-firm flesh pressing against my tongue. I had heard of grow-ers and show-ers before, but have never realized it could apply to women as well as men.

  This evening was turning out to be just full of surprises!

  "Oh, oh, oh!" She jerked herself back, pulling her clit from the tightness of my lips. "I feel that. Oh, my god. I mean, goddess. I mean, Queen." She was blubbering like some kind of infatuated schoolgirl. I had to look up for a moment to share her smile.

  After all, I remember having the very same problem with my speech the first time the Queen and I had been intimate.

  "I dared not believe it." She almost sounded scared, but delighted at the same time. "I mean, I wanted to, but it seemed so far-fetched." I watched her touch the tip of her cock, then recoil at the alien sensation. "I was sure I was risking this visit for nothing."

  When I looked back down, I was surprised to find a very erect, generously swollen cock waving before me. As she thrust it towards me, it left a smear of pre-cum across my nose. Despite my hunger, I stopped and stared in wonder.

  I had done this.

  Somehow, I had made her grow a cock.

  I didn't know how I knew, but I had turned the First Lady into the First Futa.

  For a moment, I wasn't sure what to do next, but the Queen's training soon took over. I dropped my head down and took the First Lady's small, hairless ball sac into my mouth. They were hot and kind of squishy, something I wasn't sure I liked, but I knew how important it was to worship all aspects of one's futa majesty. After a few moments of gentle sucking and licking, I let them fall away to bounce against my chin as I began licking my way back up her newly formed shaft.

  Fully erect, I gauged her cock to actually be a bit thinner than my own sissy clit, but easily three times as long. It, of course, couldn't begin to compare with the Queen's delectable monster, but from what I'd learned so far during my service, she was unusual even for a futa.

  Upon reaching the tip of what I suddenly recognized to be virgin cock, I gave her purple cockhead a proper kiss and swirled my tongued against her slit. Her precum was sweet, just like the Queen's, with none of the salty tang of a man. I kept a tight seal around her cock as I plunged my head down and took all of her into my mouth. I was disappointed that her cock wasn't long enough to force its way very far down my throat, but also perversely pleased to know that only the Queen had ever gagged me in that way.

  "Oh. Oh. Oh, yes. Your sissy is just marvelous!" Her voice climbed ever higher in a satisfied squeal of delight. The First Lady grabbed a handful of my bright pink locks, wrapped them around her hands, and forced me to suck even faster. I began bobbing my pretty head up and down in time with her thrusts.

  She was a quick learner.

  From her seat across the room, the Queen laughed. "You do not know the half of it, my dear. When Brandi first showed up in my throne room, she looked rather dour and out-of-place. I honestly was not sure what the Canadians could have been thinking when they sent her to me, but then she curtsied, and I saw the truth." I heard her chuckle, giggle almost, at the memory. "I invited her under my skirt and saw that she had her first taste of futa cock right then and there."

  I blushed red in embarrassment at the memory, but continued working to please our guest.

  "I kept her there for the afternoon, allowing her to get to know every curve of my cock, and as I read the letter she brought from her Prime Minister, I decided to administer her citizenship test right then and there."

  Suddenly, just as I felt the warm penis begin to swell beneath my tongue, our guest pushed me away. Not sure what she expected by way of a response, I giggled demurely and lunged forward for another taste.

  "Stop that!" She slapped my cheek hard enough to leave a mark. "I'm curious to hear the rest of your story. You can lick me until I tell you to continue."

  The Queen's sigh told me she was less than pleased with my treatment, but she continued anyway.

  Since she gave me no indication to the contrary, so did I, only somewhat discreetly and far more gently.

  "I gave her no warning, no word of caution. I simply released myself into her, flooding her mouth with a full day's worth of futa cum. She had to have been surprised, but she sucked and swallowed like one of the Island's own, never so much as spilling a drop."

  I moaned in delight, remembering the delight of that hot, warm, gloriously tasting surprise. If you have never tasted futa cum, it is almost like candy!

  "By the end of that first day she had greedily swallowed half a dozen loads, her body hair had disappeared, her breasts had swollen to an A-cup, and her hair was already turning pink at the roots." She reached over to caress the back of my head as I continued licking our guest. "She said I tasted like cotton candy, so I find the pink cotton candy hair rather fitting."

  Our guest growled. I could tell she wanted to explode in my mouth, but something more than wanting a story was holding her back. "Amusing, but I hardly t
hink my husband will be so docile." Suddenly, she grabbed my head again and forced me to swallow her entire penis. A part of me thrilled at being used to roughly, even as I lamented the fact that she wasn't bigger.

  The Queen quietly asked, "What did you think it will take to break him?"

  "Oh, break him! I do so love the sound of that!" She began thrusting into my mouth again and again, never releasing her hold upon my head. I felt her cock begin to swell. I tried to pull back, to ensure I tasted it all, but grip was too firm to allow me to pull away.

  "Stop," The Queen didn't need to raise her voice. Her tone was enough to convey her intention. "I thought I made myself clear." I couldn't see, but it sounded as if the Queen had stood up from the throne. "You only have one orgasm in you. Use it, and you lose it."

  She snapped her fingers.

  I immediately pulled myself off the First Lady's cock, ignoring her desperate, lust-fueled hold, and came over to kneel at the Queen's feet.

  "I told you, we can change the world, one sissy and one futa cock at a time, but you have to pick your battles." She gently stroked my hair, a sure sign that she was pleased with my performance. "I did not invite you here, and put Brandi at your disposal, just to have you waste your chance."

  The movement of the Queen's foot was subtle, almost a twitch, but I knew what was required of me. While they talked, I discreetly fixed my makeup with the kit the Queen kept beneath her throne. Applying my foundation was a skill I'd mastered early, but matching the right shade of lip-liner to my lipstick was something, for some reason, I still fretted over. While the Queen limited me to only the brightest shades available, she always left me enough choice to make me work at deciding.

  "It's not fair!" The First Lady sounded like a petulant brat. There she stood, in a disheveled shirt and jacket, with loose cummerbund around her waist, and her pants still around her ankles, with a cock bobbing anxiously before her. Combined with her haughty, childish attitude, it was almost comical. "To have such power between one's legs and not be able to use it. It's just cruel."

  The Queen ignored the tantrum and steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "If you promise to bring him to me once he is broken, Brandi here will be more than happy to provide what you need to ensure your husband's . . . shall we say, moment of docility." As our guest looked on, the Queen beckoned me to turn around and stand before her.

  "Please present yourself, Brandi." I quickly struggled out of my tight, binding, body-hugging leather skirt. Although it flared dramatically about my legs, the high waistband was laced as tightly as my corset. Once I was free of the soft, supple leather, I made sure to keep my hands at my side so as not to cover my cute, well-caged little cock.

  When the Queen handed me the condom, I am embarrassed to say I lost some of my composure. In fact, I squealed like a little girl, delighted not just at what I knew was to come, but by the thought of what was the come after. Although it ballooned comically around the head and shaft of my tiny cock, the condom fit securely over the base of my cage, holding it in place.

  "Brandi will provide what you need," she repeated, "but it is up to you how you get your husband to consume it."

  The Queen snapped her fingers. I reached back, placed my hands upon the arms of her throne, and lifted myself into the air. I slowly wiggled backward until I could feel the tip of the Queen's massive futa cock brushing the cheeks of my ass. For a moment, I panicked, worried that I may have neglected to prepare myself, but then I remembered that today was an unplugged day.

  "You're not . . ." The First Lady's eyes grew wide. "I mean, that is, you don't intend to . . ." Her own cock forgotten about for the moment, she raised her hands to her mouth. "She can't . . . she won't . . . she wouldn't!"

  When the Queen snapped her fingers a second time, I let go of the throne and let my full weight drop into the Queen's lap. Her cock plunged all the way inside me, buried to the hilt on the first thrust. The pain was indescribable, but it paled in comparison to the pleasure. Unless you have been filled by futa cock, then you cannot possibly imagine how it feels. Yes, there is that sharp, burning pain that you would expect from being so brutally stretched, but a true futa cock leaks precum constantly, to the point where the Queen must wear a condom of her own – far larger than mine, of course – when she leaves the throne room. That precum serves as a wonderful lubricant, easing her entry, but it also contains a biological compound, unique to her kind, that transmutes that pain into pleasure.

  My eyes rolled back in my head and my mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

  "Do not hold back," she whispered in my ear, her teeth nibbling at my lobe. "Let it go, let it flow."

  I whimpered and babbled uncontrollably as I writhed upon her lap, forcing my prostate to rub against the rock-hard contours of her shaft. There was barely an inch of movement, just a small gap between us that opened and closed with my bouncing, but it was enough to rub that magic spot and make me see stars. If you have never experienced a sissygasm, then I really don't know how to describe it to you. Whereas a male orgasm is like a spike of pleasure – sudden, sharp, and quickly over – a sissygasm builds slowly, and then explodes upon a plateau of pleasure that can seem endless.

  "Quickly." The Queen was panting. "Quickly, foolish woman. Grab it and tie it off before it falls!"

  I was too far gone, too lost in pleasure to watch, but I felt the heavy condom being wrestled off my cock, and heard the telltale 'snap' of latex knotted tight.

  "There must be half a cup here. Unbelievable."

  The Queen gently wrapped one arm around me and pulled me back against her breasts. Her cock was still buried inside of me, but she had stopped thrusting, and I had stopped wiggling. Sitting like this was one of the most wonderful sensations in the world. At least once a week we would spend an entire day connected like that, not actively engaging in anything sexual, just sharing a kind of intimate embrace that few who were not of the Island could imagine.

  "Have your husband drink that, and he will be ready." She kissed the top of my head, then gently lowered it to her the crook of her shoulder. "Do it quickly, while it is still fresh, and do not dilute it."

  The First Lady just stood there, half-dressed in her stolen tuxedo, her borrowed cock half-limp between her legs, with a gifted condom of sissy precum in her hand. For the first time that evening, it seemed like the façade of the First Lady had cracked, just a little bit, revealing the woman beneath. "What . . . what will it do?"

  "It will relax him, make him compliant, and remove his inhibitions. You must still be careful not to arouse his suspicions, as he is a strong-willed man, and even Brandi's juices cannot completely cure such a homophobic monster, but have him drink that and he will be powerless to resist the pleasure once you are inside him."

  I saw a cloud of doubt cross the First Lady's face. It lent her an air of humanity that was really quite lovely. I began to feel as if I may have judged her harshly, based more on her husband's behavior than her own, and had not credited her enough with the awkwardness of this evening's situation. "And . . . and what will happen to him afterward?"

  The Queen laughed. "Have no worries, my dear. He is just about the last person to whom I would offer secondary citizenship here on the Island." She raised her free hand to my lips, and I sucked up the last dribbles of precum that she had collected while we sat there. "If we are to truly become an international community, then I will need additional islands for my people. All I wish of your husband is for him to follow Canada's example."

  "If he does . . ." The First Lady paused as she pulled up her pants and adjusted her disguise. "If you get your Island, might I be permitted to visit some time?"

  "Alone?"

  She blushed. Deep, red, and to the roots. It was the first genuine, unguarded emotion we had seen from her all evening. "Actually, I think I might like to bring my son. Follow Canada's example, if you know what I mean." Suddenly, she darted forward to boldly plant a kiss upon my lips. "Brandi here is remarkable, but she can'
t be in two places at once."

  I couldn't see it, of course, but I felt the Queen's smile in how she squeezed me tight. I suspected these final few moments had opened her eyes as well. In all honesty, my dear, I look forward to it."

  END

  Gimme an F!

  by Lyka Bloom

  Copyright 2017

  There was something sinister about the athletic building after hours, when most of the campus had moved on to parties or dorms or just getting away from the college for a bit. Shelby could sympathize. She wanted to be back in her off-campus apartment, maybe studying or just watching a little television with her roommate, Kat. Instead, she was shifting the heavy gym bag on her shoulder and marching down the gray-dark hallways of the Felton Center so she could go to the foul-smelling locker room and change into the cheer uniform that she had grown to loathe. Another wave of apathy struck her and she had to battle herself from turning on a sneakered heel and getting out of there. Hadn't she proved all she needed to?

  When Trevor, her last boyfriend, had told her how pretty she was (well, he used the less elegant word 'hot,' but the point was taken), Shelby had denied it. Growing up in the shadow of Christine, her older sister and confirmed homecoming queen, Shelby had always felt like the runner-up in life's great beauty pageant. She wasn't ugly, certainly, but she was shorter than the statuesque Christine, with a slightly thicker build that made her look almost squat. What some mistook for being chubby was solid strength, which the whole stupid cheer thing had revealed. She never would have joined, though, had it not been for Trevor and his predilections for girls in uniform. So, despite Shelby's muscular body and sharply defined features, her long brown hair that had a rich volume, her breasts that were just a shade away from being too small, but instead hung like perfect teardrops from her chest - despite all that, Trevor had ditched her for a slut on the dance team.