Futareich

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?"

"No."

"Why noooot?" she whined.

"Well for starters," he snapped, "you shot two of my squad mates."

She chuckled. "Those two idiots. Fresh recruits, am I right? Still, not unattractive. That gruff old Sarge of yours has some appeal too, but you are

definitely

my favorite."

"Restrain the prisoner!" shouted a loud feminine voice behind Abel. Colonel Elizabeth Bentworth stepped into the square, followed by fifteen grunts. Five of them pointed their rifles at the prisoner, while the rest stepped forward with lengths of towing cable. Berdina didn't resist as they wrestled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists. "Take her to the command post," Bentworth roared. "Don't take your guns off her until she's bound to a fucking chair. If she escapes, I'll have your scrotums torn off!"

Berdina winked at Abel as they led her away.

The Colonel stepped up to Abel. She was a thirty-something woman with brown hair and eyes. Sergeant Figs's earlier assessment of her body was quite correct, she was very attractive, with a short, curvaceous build. He saluted, trying to get the form perfect. Everyone knew Colonel Bentworth would take any opportunity to bust your balls. She lit a cigarette and took a long pull. "When your sergeant told me your squad had captured a Futa, I almost pissed myself laughing," she said. "The thought of you incompetents actually accomplishing anything was just hilarious. I guess even a blind hog finds a truffle every now and again."

"Sir," he said, "Two of my squad are wounded."

She waved her hand. "Those two idiots are being seen to, though they probably aren't worth the medic's time. You get some R&R, Corporal. We shouldn't have to worry about a counter attack for at least 48 hours." She strode away in the direction her men had taken the prisoner.

--- Two hours later, Abel reported to the command post. A runner had brought the order from Colonel Bentworth. The building was an old shop, long abandoned. Bentworth and several other officers waited inside. Abel saluted.

Bentworth returned his salute. "Corporal, do you have any idea why you're here?" she asked.

"No, Sir," Abel replied. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not exactly." Bentworth rubbed her chin. "Our prisoner has expressed a preference for you."

"What?" Abel was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Bentworth motioned with her thumb toward the door at the back of the room. Presumably the prisoner was being held beyond in what once would have been a storage room. "She's Schwantz Staffel. They're tough. Normal interrogation techniques won't work on her, and we don't have a specialist with this unit." She cocked her head. "Luckily for us, she's already agreed to tell us everything we want to know."

"She has?" Abel scratched his chin. "So why are you telling me all this then, sir?"

"Because," Bentworth said slowly, "The prisoner has stated that she'll only answer questions from 'the cute boy who caught me'. Her words. That's you, isn't it corporal?"

"Er... Yes, I suppose so, sir."

"Alright. I'll sit in, along with one armed guard," the Colonel continued. "but you need to do all the talking. Try to get information on nearby Futareich army groups first, then try to learn what you can about conditions in the Futareich proper, their physiology, and the way they think about things. We need to know any possible weaknesses that we can exploit if we are going to win this war."

Abel nodded. "I'll do my best, Sir."

Bentworth led Abel into the back room. The room was lit by a single oil lamp sitting on a small table in the corner. Other than that, the room was empty save for it's sole occupant, the captive Futa tied to an old wooden chair with lengths of metal cable. The windowless chamber was faintly permeated with the smell of her sweat. She didn't smell like a man, or like a woman either. For some reason, her scent reminded him of a bear or a tiger, though he had certainly never gotten close enough to either of those dangerous beasts to know what they smelled like. A part of him wondered why he would ever willingly get so close to this one.

The Futa grinned as Abel strode into the room. "Hey there, cutie," she cooed. "I've been waiting for you."

"I'm told you're willing to tell me everything I want to know," Abel grunted in his best Sergeant Figs voice. "So start talking."

"Hmmm." She shook her head. "That's not how this is going to work."

"In that case, why did you say you were willing to talk?"

"I

am

willing to tell you everything, silly boy. I just want something in return." She winked.

Abel took a step back. "Oh hell no!"

She rolled her eyes. "Calm down, cutie. When I want a fuck, I don't trade for it, I

take

it. All I want is to know more about you. You personally."

"Why?"

"Because you're cute." She grinned. "I'll answer all your questions, but for every one I answer, you have to answer one of mine. But I won't ask about the war or the army. I just want to know about you. Deal?"

Abel glanced at Bentworth, who nodded. "Fine." He said. "First Question. "What is your full name and rank?"

"Berdina Albright, Schwantz Staffel Lieutenant Second Class." She nodded. "Ok, your turn pretty boy. What's your name? I don't care about your rank."

"Bernard Manders." Replied Abel. He'd had a teacher named that once. "Next question. Give us the locations, sizes and armaments of the nearest groups of Futareich troops."

Berdina heaved a heavy sigh. "Handling boys is my specialty. I can read you like an open book, cutie, and I won't answer your questions if you lie to me. Now, what is your name?"

Abel bit back a cuss. He shook his head, chagrined. "Abel Adamson," he said finally.

The Futa closed her eyes. "Abel," she whispered. "A cute name. Biblical." She breathed in sharply. "The two closest groups of Futareich troops are the seventh and tenth companies. The last time they reported in, the seventh company was ten miles south of here and the tenth was fifteen and a half miles north. Both of them are equipped standard issue, with knockout guns and gas grenades. No artillery, as it all was stashed here. No other groups of troops are close enough to threaten your position here." She looked at him through lidded eyes. "My next question is, are you afraid of me, Abel?"

"Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth.

She smiled, a sinister glint in her eyes. "Wise." Then she grinned and said brightly "Your turn. Ask away."

He clenched his fists to stop them from trembling. "Why are you here? What was your assignment?"

"I was assigned to this supply post to restore discipline. Discipline is a real problem for us, by the way. Every single one of us is a Goddess of Sex and Death, and Goddesses don't like to take orders. Anyway, the unit that was supposed to be guarding this town wandered off into the countryside looking for pussy. Before I could round them up again you lot showed up. My turn. What's your favorite color?"

"Blue." He considered. Finally he asked, "Why do your people hate us? Why are they invading us?"

Berdina pouted. "That's two questions, you cheater. Also, the first question is unfair. We don't hate you at all."

"Then why are you attacking us?"

"To liberate the women of the world from oppression and to put boys in their proper place," she said. It had the sound of a slogan or an official propaganda line.

Abel could barely contain his seething rage. "Liberate women from...

oppression

? The Futareich treats women like CATTLE! How can you even say that?!"

The Futa just laughed. "The word 'oppression' in this context means 'small boy penis' I think. As for treating women like cattle, well, that's the freedom women truly crave, to be a slave to a massive Futa cock. If you had one, you'd know, but you're a boy so you don't. Now, you've gone and asked me four questions without answering one of mine. That means I get four questions. First, do you have a girlfriend?"

"No." he snapped.

"Bummer. How about sisters?"

"Yes," he snapped.

"How many?" She prodded.

"One."

"Older than you? Or younger?"