Chapter 1: Futa's First Innocent Delight

April 17th, 2047

My futa-cock erupted.

My girl-jizz fired into Adelia’s hungry mouth. My hand dug into her black hair, mussing her perfectly coiffed do as she swallowed my spunk. Every blast sent jolts of rapture zapping into my mind while winds of ecstasy howled out of my pussy. Her fingers plunged into my convulsing cunt, teasing me as my pleasure surged through me.

“BECKY!” cheered the studio audience. “BECKY!”

“We love you, Becky!” another woman screamed.

“Let me drink your cum!”

“Breed me!”

“No, no, breed me!”

“Go, Mom!” cried out one of my many, many futa-daughters.

“Oh, god,” I groaned, my head lolling back on the interview couch on the sound stage of Adelia’s talk show. It was streamed out on the internet on one of the biggest content networks. My feet drummed on the floor, my breasts heaved beneath my blouse. “Yes!”

“Thirty seconds,” the male producer called, standing by one of the three cameras filming us.

“Uh-huh,” I whimpered. We were on a commercial break. I think the fifth since I started talking about my life, the world looking back on the last thirty years since I became the first futa.

My dick spurted a final time into Adelia’s mouth. The biracial woman purred in delight as she popped her lips off my dick. Her tongue fluttered out, gathering some of the spunk leaking out of the corners of her lips.

“Mmm, yum,” she groaned.

“You missed some,” I purred, my body buzzing on euphoria.

The studio audience let out loud “oooooooohhhhhhssssss” as I kissed Adelia, my tongue flicking out to gather my salty jizz. I savored the taste of my own girl-spunk. I whimpered as she pulled her fingers out of my pussy and brought them up to our lips.

My sweet musk coated her digits, seasoning our kiss with something delicious.

“And we’re live in five,” the producer said, “four.”

We broke the kiss.

“Three.”

I shoved my skirt down over my softening futa-dick, thrusting from the folds of my pussy where my clit used to be. I shivered as the cloth rasped about the sensitive tip. I shifted, crossing my legs as the producer mouthed, “One.”

The camera’s red lights came on.

I put on a smile, feeling the world, and my wife standing just off-stage, watching me.

“We’re back with President Becky Woodward,” Adelia said, her voice smooth. You couldn’t tell at all that she had just been sucking my dick. “She’s joined us to take a retrospective look back on her life on her forty-eighty birthday.”

“Glad to be here,” I said, my legs crossed, my body almost floating off the couch from my orgasmic high. “It’s always such a pleasure. I always feel so welcomed here.”

A laugh rippled through the studio audience while Adelia licked her lips. “Mmm, I wonder why that is,” she said with a mysterious tone. “Now, before our break, we had covered your college career, and you were going to regale us with some of your adventures during your hobo phase.”

“Hobo...” I giggled. “Well, I didn’t have stick over my shoulder with the handkerchief bundle tied to it, but ... Yeah, I spent a while hitchhiking. I graduated from the University of Washington in early June of 2021 and headed south down Old Highway 99, the scenic route to California. I wasn’t in a hurry, just bumbling along.”

“Breeding women?” Adelia arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes, I left a string of happy, pregnant women in my wake,” I said. “Eventually, I reached San Diego and struck out east, crossing Arizona and New Mexico. I was in Western Texas on Highway 84 when I met Jackson Pelley.”

I could still remember the heat of the day, the dust in the air. I closed my eyes and drifted back to that day.

“He was kind enough to offer me a ride.”

July 23rd, 2021

I broiled in the Texan sun. It was afternoon and I was regretting not staying with that trio of girls I met at the Best Western. I left all three of them with buns in the ovens and each eager to try out for Ms. Bred 2022. Thinking I’d find a ride, soon, I headed southeast from the motel down the highway in my jean skirt and cowboy boots, my t-shirt tied just below my round tits, leaving my tanned stomach exposed. I had my Stetson hat perched on my head.

I was adapting to Texas.

But as the day wore on, I hardly saw a car, and none of them pulled over to give me a ride. If it wasn’t for the oppressive heat and the fact I was quickly running out of bottle water, I wouldn’t have been worried. After walking every day for over a month, I was in the best shape of my life. Not even as a cheerleader were my legs so toned, my body so slender.

“Come on,” I muttered as I heard the approach of the vehicle. I turned around, my thumb stuck out as I walked backwards down the gravel shoulder. On either side of me were sere fields of golden grass dotted with lethargic cattle. “Please, stop.”

The road was straight, the land flat. I could see the car coming for miles, sun reflecting off the glass. It felt like an eternity for it to reach me. An eternity broiling in the sun. Sweat soaked my shirt, molding to my round breasts. More trickles ran down my spine and poured off my forehead.

A faded-blue, beat-up truck pulled up. One of those big Ford ones that in the city I’d say the guy was overcompensating but out here ... This truck looked like it worked every day since the driver bought it. Jubilation surged through me as it slowed.

I didn’t even care that it had a big sticker on the passenger door that read, “Ask me about my Lord and Savior” nor the bible verses plastered on the bumper. Right now, I could listen to all manner of lectures about my soul if it meant getting in an air conditioned cab.

The pickup truck stopped. The passenger window rolled down. An older man with wings of gray streaking through his short hair peered at me. He had a ruddy face, tanned to leather by working in the sun. He wore a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, his arms hairy and tan. He peered at me past a bold nose.

“Need a ride, little lady?” he asked in that polite, Texas droll.

“Hell yeah,” I said.

He grinned. “Then get your keister on in.”

I wrenched open the door and hauled in, dropping my denim backpack on my feet as I settled into the seat. I slammed the door closed and groaned as the arctic air blasting out of the vents spilled across my tits and bare stomach.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I groaned, leaning forward to savor the cool air.

“Naw, just bein’ a good Christian,” he said and pulled back into the highway. He drove relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel. “Names Jackson. Jackson Pelley.”

“Becky Woodward.”

He gave me a smile. “Please to meet ya, Becky. Ya bound for anywhere in particular?”

“Just drifting,” I said and leaned back against the seat. The sweat was starting to dry on my face, making me feel in desperate need of a shower.

“Right, right,” he nodded his head. “Aimless, huh? Haven’t felt the Lord touch your heart and guide ya where you need to be?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Unless ... wonderin’ down the highway’s just where ya need to be.”

I gave him a look. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I am not in the mood for a sermon. I mean, if it’s the price for the ride, okay, but...”

“Fair ‘nough,” he said. Then his phone beeped. I hadn’t noticed it in a holder suction-cupped to the dashboard. It was a fairly new smartphone. He reached out, fiddling with the screen, checking something on it. When I first started walking, I thought of country people as simple. But it turned out they were as plugged into smart phones and apps and stuff as much as people in Seattle.

“I’m headin’ home myself,” he said. “Should be gettin’ there ‘round supper time. I’m sure my daughter and the missus’ll have whipped somethin’ up.”

“Oh, you’re married?” I asked, perking up. A tingle ran through my futa-cock. I’d gone most of the day without any pussy.

“To my Deb,” he said. “Mighty fine lass.” His smile grew. “Courted her in school and married her as soon as we graduated. We was the same age as our adopted daughter, Scarlett.”

“Pretty name,” I said. “So she’s ... eighteen? Scarlett?”

Nodded his head. “Blossomed into a right pretty flower.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, my hips squirming.

“We had to adopt on account of my wife’s problems,” he continued. “Poor thang. Would ya believe she got the uterine cancer at fourteen?”

“Oh, wow,” I said.

“But she pulled through and emerged stronger for it, thank the Lord.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah.”

“But it meant no kids. But we were lucky. We adopted Scarlett when she was a little babe, and raised her as our own.” He gave me a look. “Deb may not be her biological mother, but no women ain’t ever loved a girl more.”

“Mmm,” I said, shifting my thighs, trying to hide my growing erection swelling the boy short style panties I wore beneath my jean skirt. “Just lovely.”

“Well, since you’re just driftin’, I feel obliged to ask you to supper.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said. A mother and her adopted daughter? I knew I would have fun tonight.

His phone beeped again. He swiped the screen on, driving with one eye on the road. It was straight and we were the only vehicle, so I didn’t comment about how unsafe this was. A map appeared on his screen, almost like Google Maps but...

I frowned. It was a tracker. There were little notes on it. And my picture in a little circle by one of them. There was a text bubble sticking out. My brow furrowed as I read, “Becky spotted at Muleshoe Best Western, confirmed by 3 girls.”

I blinked. “What the fuck?”

A look of guilt flashed across his face. “Well ... You see...”

“Are you ... tracking me?” I demanded. I grabbed his phone off the holder and stared at it. “Is this an app that ... Holy shit, it is tracking me.”

“It collates reports ‘bout your movements,” he said. “Like I said, maybe God has a plan for ya being on this highway. For us meetin’.”

“Because you used an app to learn I was heading east out of Muleshoe, Texas and heading down Highway 84?” I demanded, giving him a hard look.

“God works in mysterious ways,” he said, something almost feverish entering his eyes. “Like with ya, Becky.”

“Me?” I squirmed.

“Yes, ya. You’re a miracle. Somethang new. It’s so clear. The way you’re spreadin’ life. God has changed us. I don’t know why, but you’re His agent, Becky.”

I gaped at him.

“Life is so precious, and it gets spent so cheaply. But then you come along, and you’re creatin’ so much of It. It ain’t natural the way every woman you lie with conceives a child. What other reason can there be than God’s blessin’ quickenin’ their wombs with your seed, creatin’ a new generations of daughters to spread across the world.

“You’re the new Eve, Becky. The new Adam, too. You’re combined. It’s wondrous.”

I didn’t know what to say. He spoke with such fervent heat. Such conviction.

“That’s why I sought ya out. Me and the missus both agree. We need ya to share that miracle with our daughter.”

My brow furrowed. “Wait, what?”

“We want you to bless our daughter’s womb with your divine seed,” he said. “No man’s ever lain with her. She’s pure. She’s ready to be a vessel for your holy essence. She’s waitin’ for you, our Scarlett. She’s eager for it.”

A wave of heat washed through me. My futa-dick reached its full mass. I never enjoyed a proper virgin. So many girls had sex in high school these days, and since I never touched a girl who wasn’t eighteen, I never had that sublime joy. But ... this Scarlett ... This man’s daughter was waiting to be bred. Waiting for my futa-seed.

My dick was so hard.

“I’ll do it,” I moaned. “I’ll ... I’ll give her my miraculous seed. I’ll breed her.”

“Amen,” breathed Jackson. “Amen!”

An eagerness gripped me to get to his house. My futa-dick bulged my jean skirt. I didn’t bother hiding it from him. He knew what I was. He knew what I would do. He was so eager for it. I squeezed my dick, my lusts brimming through me. My pussy soaked my panties. A virgin and her adopted mother.

It was a shame I wouldn’t breed Deb, but I knew I would enjoy her anyways.

The rest of the trip was a blur of anticipation. I couldn’t wait to get there. He texted his wife, letting them know we were on the way. My excitement mounted when he pulled off the highway down a long, gravel road. In the distance, a white farmhouse rested on a little knoll with a huge oak tree beside it.

Figures appeared on the porch.

I licked my lips, staring ahead at the Pelley woman. Mother and her adopted daughter both in conservative dresses, the mother’s dark maroon, the daughter’s light blue with yellow flowers. The mother was a tall woman, her dark-brown hair spilling about a mature but beautiful face, her figure willowy beneath her skirt. I could see the swell of her large breasts as Jackson pulled his truck up before the house. My hands ached to touch them.

And then I gazed at the daughter and groaned.

She stood with such blushing innocence on her face. Her brown hair was gathered in a braid that hung off her left shoulder and spilled down to her modest bosom. She was lithe and slender, looking so sweet and delicious.

“It’s really her?” Deb asked as I opened the door and climbed out.

“Yes, it is,” Jackson said, approaching his wife and embracing her. “She’s gonna give our daughter a miracle.”

“Yes, I am,” I purred, staring at the virgin girl.

Her dark eyes widened. A shiver raced through her. Then she let out a squeak and darted inside, the screen door banging shut behind her. I shivered, my futa-dick throbbing beneath my tight skirt. I wiggled my hips, resisting the urge to grope myself.

“She’s a shy one,” Deb said, her cheeks already blossoming with red spots. Her eyes flicked down to my bulging skirt. “Oh, my, it’s just like they say about you.”

“Just like it,” I said. “As you can see, I’m so eager to breed your daughter.”

The wife just whimpered.

Her husband nudged her. “Deb, why don’t ya show Becky to the guest room. I imagine she’d like to freshen up before...”

“I’d kill for a shower. I want to be smelling sweet for your daughter,” I said, still bemused that these clearly fundamental Christians didn’t have a problem with this at all. Wasn’t this close to homosexuality for them? And what about no premarital sex?

“Right, right,” Deb said. She broke away from her husband. “This way, Becky, honey.” She took my arm. I smelled a flowery scent, not a perfume but more like potpourri, rising about her. It was pleasant. She led me into the farmhouse. The hardwood floors were polished and gleaming, but looked old, faded. The house must be a hundred years or more old. It creaked as we headed up the stairs.

She trembled beside me but ... I didn’t feel that uncontrollable lust pouring off of her. If she truly didn’t have a womb ... if she couldn’t ovulate ... Maybe she wouldn’t go into heat. And yet ... I felt her trembling. She kept glancing at me, licking her lips. Her large breasts rose and fell.

I gave her a smile. “Your daughter must be so eager for this.”

“I’ve heard that ... girls are possessed by the Holy Spirit and driven to lie with you. That they need to experience your divine gift.” Her words carried a hit of fervent fire, like her husband. Her arm tightened in mind. “I imagine she was overwhelmed by it.”

“It’ll be best if she ... enjoys me as soon as possible,” I said, my futa-dick throbbing. “She might be masturbating right now, so overwhelmed with ... the Spirit for me.”

The motherly woman’s cheeks blushed darker. She nodded her head. “I can ... believe that. I’ll have her waitin’ in your room once you’re down showering.”

I gave her a smile. “It would probably be best if you were there. To watch over her. It’s her first time. She might be scared, too.”

Deb gave me a sharp look. “I ... I ... No, no, this is a private thing.”

“It’s really not,” I told her. “If you were there, helping her, relaxing her, well, it’ll be such a ... a holy time for her.”

“Holy,” the woman choked. She licked her lips again as we walked down the second floor hallway. “Yes, yes.” She stopped at an open door, a small room inside, the walls covered in wallpaper adorned with dusty-pink roses. A bed with a mauve comforter lay beside an old, battered nightstand. “This is you. Bathroom’s that door there at the end. We’ll ... We’ll be ready for you.”

My pussy clenched. My dick throbbed. I gave her a quick kiss on the lips, bringing a gasp from her, then I broke away and sauntered down the hallway, my cowboy boots thudding away. I felt her eyes on me as I vanished into the bathroom.

I set the world’s speed record for showering.

I tore my clothes off, hopped in beneath the spray, and scrubbed myself with the bar of soap, my blonde hair getting soaked in the process. I didn’t care how mused it got. Not when I had a mother and her virgin, adopted daughter to enjoy. My dick thrust so hard before me, begging to be touched. It bounced and swayed beneath the falling water as I scrubbed my body clean of sweat.

When I hopped out, I felt reborn. Rejuvenated. The exhaustion of a day spent in the Texas heat melted away and washed down the drain. I was ready to breed the eighteen-year-old virgin and put a “miracle” baby in her belly.

And why not a miracle? No one could explain how my futa-cock worked. Pheromones seemed to trigger some sort of hormonal process in women that caused rapid ovulation. I fired so much sperm when I ejaculated that I could breed a dozen wombs with a single cum. Nor could the doctors explain why I grew a dick.

They called me a genetic abnormality. And one that, too my knowledge, was passed on to the thousands of daughters I had. Nearly four years of breeding three or more women a day added up fast.

I didn’t bother putting on clothes. I emerged from the shower naked. Jackson stood at the end of the hallway. The Texan rancher gaped at the sight of my wet, naked body, my breasts jiggling as I walked, my futa-cock thrusting out of my blonde bush. My huge girl-dick swayed before me as I rolled my hips.

“I’m going to breed your daughter,” I told him. “Don’t be surprised if your wife starts moaning, either. Things are going to get ... sinful in there.”

He swallowed, nodded then adjusted his own bulge. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as mine. Whatever pheromones I produced made men so docile and uncaring that I was cuckolding them and breeding their women.

Sometimes, it made them eager for it like my friend, Chris. He loved watching me fuck his fiancee, Tiffany.

“Jackson,” I said, giving him a nod, so eager to enjoy his wife and daughter.

He turned and marched down the stairs.

Smiling, I sauntered to the guest bedroom. The door was closed. My girl-dick pulsed with the beat of my heart as I stopped before it. I took a moment, savoring the anticipation. Juices trickled down my thighs, making me tremble. I loved that feeling.

I seized the doorknob, twisted, and thrust through the open door in the small bedroom. Scarlett gasped, sitting up on the bed. She was wearing a nightgown, thin, white cloth that went all the way down to her ankles and only had a little round cleavage, covering most of her body. Her nipples pressed hard against the cloth. She sat up, her feet pulling back as she bent her legs.

Her eyes stared at my naked body. Her tongue flicked across her lips as she drank in my body. Her cheeks blossomed crimson as her eyes traveled down my body, past my round breasts. Then she found my girl-dick. Her body froze. Her eyes widened. She shuddered and let out a little, whimpering moan.

“Oh, my word,” gasped her mother standing in the corner of the room. The older woman clapped her hands over her mouth. “You’re ... you’re...”

“A futa,” I said, grabbing my girl-dick as I advanced on the bed, my girl-dick bobbing before me. Scarlett’s eyes followed the progress as I reached the bed. “And I am so hard to breed your daughter.”

“Yes, you are,” Deb said, her voice so strained.

“Mom,” whimpered Scarlett. “She’s ... she’s ... Big!”

“I know,” Deb said. “But don’t worry, honey. Ya can take her. So many women have. She’ll give you her miracle child. Ya’ll be fulfillin’ the Lord’s plan for the world.”

“Yes, you will,” I told the girl as I crawled onto the bed. My hand landed on her knee.

She let out a little whimper.

“Just relax,” I told her, grabbing the skirt of her nightgown. I drew it up her legs, exposing more and more of her shapely calves. “I’m going to love you. I’m going to show you just how wonderful this is.