AN: Warning: This story is futa on male. It contains futa on female, but its mostly futa on male. If that's too gay for you, don't read this.
After the Great War, the Vemar Empire was dismantled by the victorious allied powers and ultimately reformed into the Vemar Republic, a democratic state with universal suffrage. The devastating war left the male population of Vemar greatly depleted, and thus the newly enfranchised women made up the bulk of the electorate. A number of explicitly pro female political parties emerged in the years after the war. Among the most radical of these was the Female Apotheosis Party.
The Female Apotheosis Party, or FAP, acknowledged the physical differences between men and women. However, the FAP asserted that though women might be physically inferior to men, they were morally superior. As long as men were stronger than women, they thought, the world would be doomed to repeated tragedies like the Great War. Therefore, it was the duty of science to physically enhance womankind- not just to the level of men, but beyond the level of men, so that morally superior women might come to dominate the world. Such was the Philosophy of the FAP.
Thus the Futanari project was begun. The idea was to create women who could fulfill the male reproductive role, thereby eliminating the need for men entirely. The project was a complete success. The Futanari created by FAP scientists were tall, beautiful, strong, virile and voracious.
There was only one problem. The Futanari seemed resistant to the FAP's attempts to educate them in their philosophy. As time went on and the Futanari's numbers increased (very rapidly, for obvious reasons) they increasingly came to formulate a different worldview. One based not upon the superiority of women, but rather of themselves. They believed they had the right to rule (and fuck) everything and everyone by virtue of their superior phalluses. It was a philosophy of Futanari supremacy.
Twenty years after the commencement of the Futanari Project, the Futas took over the government of Vemar, reforming the nation and society into the Futareich. Under the Futareich, men, or "boys" as the Futas called them, were rounded up and forced into labor camps. Those who resisted (and many who did not) were raped. The women of the Futareich were designated as second-class citizens, allowed to own property and operate businesses, but not allowed to vote or to refuse sex with a Futa. Soon virtually every woman between the ages of 18 and 50 was pregnant, bearing the next generation of the Master Sex in their wombs.
Unsatisfied with only one country's population, the voracious Futanari looked abroad for more boys to dominate and girls to impregnate. They martialed their armies and invaded the Allied Nations. The second Great War had begun.
"So what do you think of the new Colonel?"
Abel mostly spoke to calm his own nerves. This wouldn't be his first time in combat, as he'd fought in two separate engagements before. The experience didn't really give him any reassurance, though, as both battles had been complete disasters for the Alliance.
"She has a damn fine rack," Sergeant Figs replied without turning around. "Nice ass too. A bit of a nasty personality, foul mouth. Overall score eight out of ten, would bang." Figs kept his eyes on the ridge ahead. If the Colonel's intel was correct, there was an entire battalion's worth of heavy artillery in the small town atop the ridge, unmanned and practically unguarded.
"That's not what I meant," Abel persisted. "I meant, can we trust her?"
"Why wouldn't we?" asked Figs, still scanning the ridge.
"You know why. She's a woman. We all know where the loyalties of the Female Apotheosis Party lie."
"Do you have any evidence that Colonel Bentsworth is a member of the Female Apotheosis Party?" Figs grumbled. Abel was about to reply, but Figs shook his head. "I get it, Abe, I do. After the September Sabotage and listening to the kind of things civilian women on the street say, it's hard to trust a broad. But they're half our population kid! We can't distrust them all."
Abel checked over his rifle again, muttering "Something about this op seems fishy to me. Why would the Futareich leave their artillery undefended near the front line?"
"We caught a lucky break," said private Mins, cheerfully. "And its about time, too."
"I heard we lost most of our ordinance at the Battle of Crack Gulch," said private Brodorick. "If we don't take those guns, the whole alliance will be overrun within six months, and we'll all be slaves. Or dead." Brodorick looked like he was feeling a bit queasy.
Mins and Brodorick were fresh out of boot. Abel was only four months older than Brodrick and six months older than Mins, but he felt ancient compared to them. Neither of the two new recruits understood how hard it was to fight the Futas. They were faster and stronger than any man alive and they always appeared from an unexpected direction. So far the Alliance had not been able to secure any significant victories in the field against them.
Somewhere in the line behind them, there was a quiet pop. A green flare soared over the field.
"That's the signal to advance," Figs announced. "Weapons up, eyes forward. No mistakes, ladies, unless you're looking to be a Futa's rape slave."
The squad advanced at a slow trot, rifles raised. The hair on the back of Abel's neck stood up as they moved up the ridge. So far no contacts. That meant the enemy was either completely surprised by their attack or an ambush. The squad crested the ridge, reaching the first row of buildings. Figs peaked around the side of the house. "While I'll be damned. Look," he said, motioning the squad forward.
The small town square was filled with 90 millimeter portable artillery pieces, neatly arranged into rows, as if for an equipment inspection. Ammo crates were stacked behind.
"Gas shells," Abel remarked. Looks like they were planning to hit New Enswick like they did Wendyshire. Surround the city and blast it full of knockout gas."
"Well, we'll show them." Said Mins. "We'll drive em all the way back to the Summne, maybe even invade the Riech itself and see how they like getting raped for a change!"
The crack of a firing rifle interrupted Min's fantasizing. Blood sprayed into the air.
"Shit! Cover, now!" shouted Figs.
Abel grabbed Mins and dragged him behind the house. Blood poured down the private's arm, but the wound didn't look too bad. "Is that all you got you Futa Bitch!" Mins roared, trying to push past Abel back into the street. "I'm gonna come over there and rip your fucking.... Fucking..." He collapsed face first into the dirt.
"MIIIIIINNNSSS!" Screamed Brodorick.
"Don't lose your shit Brodrick," snapped Abel. "He's gonna be fine." Abel pointed to the wound in Mins's arm. "They use low caliber rounds coated in sedatives." He pulled a roll of gauze out of his pack and began bandaging the wound. "Mins'll wake up in a day or so with a splitting headache."
"Oh." Said Brodorick. "Why on earth do they use sedative rounds?"
"Because they aren't necrophilliacs," Grunted Figs. He peeked around the corner, and another bullet whizzed by his head. "Huh. Boys, it looks like we have an unprecedented opportunity here."
"What kind of opportunity?" Asked Abel, apprehensive.
"There's only one hostile, and three of us. We're taking her."
That would be a coup. Thus far, no Futa had ever been captured alive by alliance forces.
"Alright." Abel said, nodding. "What's the plan?"
"The target is prone beside the stairway of the church at one o'clock," said Figs, pointing. "Brodorick, you lay down some covering fire. Try not to get hit in the head. Abel, you and I are going to move around that house to the left. If we stay low, the target shouldn't even see us until we're close enough to stick our rifles up her ass."
Brodorick took up his position at the corner of the house, firing at the enemy, while Abel and Figs moved around the other side as silently as possible. As they approach the church from behind, they heard Brodorick scream in pain. Seconds later, the gun fire ceased.
The enemy saw that there were four of us
Abel thought.
She'll think we're still behind the house. This can still work.
Sergeant Figs was thinking the same thing apparently. The two exchanged a look and a nod.
As they approached, Abel spotted the target. Just as they'd hoped, she was laying prone, aiming her rifle at the house the squad had first sheltered behind. Figs pointed at Abel, then at the ground at Abel's feet.
You stay here and keep her covered,
the gesture meant. Abel nodded to show that he understood.
Slowly, quietly, Figs approached the target from behind. He gave the prone enemy a prod in her very generous posterior with the barrel of his gun. "Its over," he said. "Give it up or I swear I'll-"
The enemy flipped over blindingly fast, her legs whirling. In a split second, one of her feet kicked the rifle aside while the other slammed into Figs's chest. The sergeant flew back five feet, crashing to the ground on his back, gasping for air. As the target rose to a crouch, Abel put a bullet in the ground at her feet, then pointed his gun at her head. She froze.
"Put your hands on your head and stand up slowly," he ordered.
"Congratulations," she said. "You got me."
As she complied with his command, Abel got his first good up close view of the Enemy, the bane of mankind. The Futa.
Mostly, she looked like a woman. She wore a tight black leather uniform with silver buttons. Her blonde hair was pulled up underneath an officer's cap. Her eyes were a dark shade of blue. All that was ordinary enough, but there were several obvious differences between this creature and a normal woman. The first was her height. She towered head and shoulders over Abel's 5'9". He guessed she was about seven feet tall. The second was her proportions. Her breasts and hips were both massive, even in proportion to her overall size. Her legs- shown well in the tight leather of her uniform- were rock hard pillars of muscle, easily twice as thick as Abel's.
The final and most obvious clue that his prisoner was not an ordinary woman was, of course, the massive bulge in her crotch. Her uniform pants were clearly specifically designed to accommodate whatever monster dwelled between her powerful thighs. The giant salient in her pants was more or less the size of a milk jug. A very prominent, very shiny silver zipper ran down the center of the enormous extrusion. Abel jerked his eyes away from it, suppressing a shiver of primal fear.
Sergeant Figs stumbled to his feet, gasping. "Good work kid. Keep a bead on her." He paused. "Damn, look at that black uniform. She's SS!"
Abel had heard of the Schwantz Staffel, of course. They were an elite force within the Futareich that handled internal security and enemy interrogations, with a reputation for perverse cruelty and brutal effectiveness. He kept his rifle trained on her chest, ready to pull the trigger if she moved even an inch.
"The rest of the company is moving into the town," said Figs. "I'll go report to the Colonel and get a few squads to restrain the prisoner. Keep her covered."
"Yes sir." Abel replied. Figs limped away.
The prisoner smiled looking him up and down. "I could not have asked for a prettier boy to be captured by," she cooed. "What's your name, cutie?"
"You don't get to ask the questions," Abel replied, as gruffly as he could.
She pouted. "Aw. Ok, want me to go first? I'm Berdina." She paused. "Ok, now it's your turn!"
He didn't speak.
"The quiet type, huh?" she cooed. "So mysterious. So attractive! But come on, at least give me a name? Pleeeease?"
