Chapter 6: Futa’s First Naughty Soulmate

April 17th, 2047

“As we bring our retrospective look on the life of President Becky Woodward to a close,” Adelia said, staring into the central of three cameras filming us for the stream of her talk show, “I think we should end it on what, and I think Becky would agree, was the most pivotal moment in her life. We’ve all gotten glimpses of it these last few years, but let’s hear it in her own words.”

“Thanks,” I said, emotion suddenly staining my eyes. I could feel the audience shifting beyond the blinding stage-lights. They were peering at me, all eager to hear about that moment. I swallowed, cleared my throat, and then said, “It was like any other day. I was in the middle of my second term, dealing with another crisis...”

February 9th, 2043

“Mom, there’s a problem in the UAE,” Rebecca, my futa-daughter with Mrs. Albertson, said as she burst into the Oval Office. Her red hair, a gift from her mother, swayed about her face. Her blue eyes were so similar to her Uncle Kurt’s eyes, that same shade.

I groaned. “Really?” I asked. “Now?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Rebecca said.

I was just about to wrap up my day. I was in the middle of a teleconference with Phillipa Lockwood, the former Prime Minister of the United Kingdoms, and President Konstantin Markov, leader of the Russian Federation. I glanced at them on my ultra-wide computer screen. “Sorry, I think I have to end our conversation.”

“We can pick it up next time,” Phillipa said. “But it’s good news. I think we have the constitution all ironed out and ready for ratification.”

“Good,” I said, smiling.

“It is good,” Konstantin said. I kept my word. He was helping me craft the united world government, ensuring Russia had a prominent place in its organization. “Do you need me to call President Saab?” Saab governed the UAE.

“No, no, I will call King Njam and see what the Saudis can do,” I said. “He has better ins than any of us.”

Konstantin nodded. “Good evening to you, Becky.”

“Morning to you,” I said, smiling. Time zones could be a bitch. I turned off my monitor. I glanced over at Bethany. “You better tell that virgin waiting in my bedroom she can go home if she wants. I’ll enjoy her tomorrow.”

“Really?” Bethany asked, her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a bun that made the twenty-four-year-old futanari look even older. “She’s really looking forward to it. It’s her eighteenth birthday today.”

“I know. Sorry.” Bethany procured me the virgin a day I like to deflower, selecting them from the girls turning eighteen across America who all were eager to lose their virginity, and to be bred, by me. “She can wait if she wants, but I don’t know what time I’ll be finished. It could be very late.”

“I’ll let her know,” Bethany said, shaking her head.

Rebecca frowned and Lola sighed. She and Rebecca had a weird relationship. They were half-sisters through me, but step-aunt and niece through their mothers. Mrs. Albertson was Rebecca’s mother and Janice, Mrs. Albertson’s step-daughter, was Lola’s.

“Leah,” I shouted across the room to where my press secretary sat on a couch, her strawberry-blonde hair framing a tired face, “get me King Njam.”

“I’ll have the coffee brewed,” Bethany said on her way to the door.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. Bethany made sure I was taken care of. My futa-daughter was sometimes like my mother.

“Hey, yes, President Woodward is holding for King Njam,” Leah said into her phone. All our phones were synced up with the computers. She could put the video conference through to my screen with a tap of a button.

“What’s the problem in the UAE?” I asked as I waited.

Rebecca sat down on the edge of my desk. “What else? Fundamentalist have grabbed a pair of our sisters who went over there as brides.”

My stomach clenched. So far, none of the fundamentalists had harmed my futa-daughters. In the last few years, groups of futanari had been streaming into the Middle East to “marry” men and be their futa-wives. They would make him more attractive to marry multiple women. King Njam and the Wahhabiist clerics of Saudi Arabia had been putting it out that futas were sent by Allah to change mankind and bring about a new world peace, implying that a united world government would let Islam spread across the whole world.

I didn’t mind. It meant my futa-daughters were having children over there. They were all volunteers, finding men they felt would make good partners, and then sharing the man’s wives as their lovers.

However, the fundamentalist hated it.

“Ah, Becky,” King Njam said when he appeared on my screen. “How good it is to see you.”

“And you, Your Majesty,” I said, smiling.

The affable king waved a hand before his face. “Please, please, Njam. We are friend, no?”

“Always friends,” I said. “How are your daughters?” They were actually my daughters, but he’d adopted them. I’d breed his original two wives, plus he ended up keeping Ayishah as a third wife despite her being a glorified prostitute.

“They are growing fast and are the terror of the palace,” he said, a proud grin spreading across his face. “They will make good wives when they come of age. All of the Kingdom loves them.”

“Good, good,” I said.

“And your daughters?”

I smiled. “I am going to be a grandmother. Again. Jen is pregnant.”

“That is her fourth child?” asked the king.

“Yes.” I couldn’t help smiling. I used to think I was too young to be a grandmother, but I loved all of Lola’s daughters. And she wasn’t the only one having daughters. The third generation of futanari were being born across America and the world.

His smile faded. “I have heard of the ... incident in the UAE. Fundamentalist.”

I nodded. “What do we have to do to resolve this matter?”

“The UAE is using this for concessions,” he said. “They want better trade deals and...”

My mind was melted hours later when I escaped the Oval Office. Instructions were given to Ambassador Stevens in the UAE, and I had a flurry of exchanges with King Njam. It looked like the UAE would intervene and rescue my futa-daughters. There was nothing more that could be done.

I trudged through the West Wing to my bedroom. It was an ornate affair that had come to feel like home these last six years. I’d lived here longer than anywhere else since I moved out of my parents home to start college. Another two years, and I’d have to move again.

I nodded to the two secret service agents guarding my door, then opened it, and the slipped inside my dark bedroom. My feet throbbed. I had taken off my shoes hours ago but my ankles still felt swollen. I sighed as I unbuttoned my blouse. I moved through my room, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Moonlight bled through the closed curtains.

I could never have my bedroom curtains open. Even with the bullet resistant glass and the legion of snipers and guards on all the roofs that could see into my bedroom, it was too much of a security risk for me to open them. I took off my skirt and panties, my cock swaying soft between my thighs.

I stumbled to my bed, my eyes blurry. I just wanted to pour myself into bed and get a few hours of sleep before I had to be up for the morning briefing. Tomorrow was going to suck. I had to go to meet with Senator Olson and the delegation from Congress to brief them on the new world constitution. I pulled back my covers, about to slip in and...

There was someone sleeping in my bed.

A girl, naked, her hair’s hue hard to tell in the dark. Maybe brown. It spilled across her face as she slept on her side. She stirred and wiggled her shoulders. It took me a moment to realize who this must be.

The virgin.

I sighed, my dick stirring at the sight of her. I could just see her small breasts through the gaps of her arms folded up before her. Her breathing was soft. I pushed back her hair from her cheeks, staring at her.

She was so young. I was nearly forty-four, more than twice her age. But she was eighteen. A woman now. Part of me wondered if I should wake her up. Another part of me just wanted to go to sleep. If she did wake up, she would be too horny not to fuck, consumed by hyper-ovulation, driven to have sex with me like every woman in the world was when they first met me.

She mewled and shifted. Her eyes opened. “Madam ... president... ?”

I sighed. Guess I had to be up a little longer. “Yeah, you can call me Becky, sweetie. Didn’t Bethany say you could go home?”

“She did,” she said, sitting up. Moonlight fell across her face, her blue eyes almost glowing in it. Her hair had a reddish quality to it, maybe a shade similar to Leah’s strawberry-blonde locks. “She said you had a long night. I bet you must be so tired.”

“I am,” I said, sinking down on the bed beside her. “But I can get it up for you.”

She moved behind me, her legs sliding around my waist. Her hands grabbed my shoulders. “My dad taught me how to give a great neck massage. My mother loves them. Would you like one, Becky?”

“Sure,” I said then groaned as her fingers dug into my sore muscles.

I closed my eyes and let her work her magic. My body relaxed as she kneaded me. Her fingers dug into my muscles. I found myself smiling. I shifted on the bed, her touch just wonderful. She worked at my sore muscles, digging her thumbs and fingers into the tension.

She melted away the strain sitting in a chair for hours and hours had given me. I shifted in her touch, closed my eyes, and just let her work her magic. My head dropped as she caressed me, her fingers sliding with a gentle silk over my skin.

I don’t know how long she massaged me. I drifted into a light doze, almost a full sleep as she worked. It was just so incredible to feel. She was a life send after the evening I had. She shifted behind me, sometimes her small breast grazing my back as she worked.

“Okay,” she said, her voice gentle. She leaned me over. “Come on, Becky, you look exhausted. Let’s get you beneath the covers.”

“Mmm, you don’t want to fuck?” I muttered, my voice slurred. I didn’t fight her as she stretched me out on the bed.

She stared down at me and fluffed my pillow. “I’ll be here in the morning. Just get some sleep.”

She leaned down and planted an almost chaste kiss on my mouth, barely more than a graze. Then she pulled up the covers over me and snuggled up beside me. I closed my eyes. Just before sleep claimed me, I remembered thinking there was something familiar about her face.

Then I was lost to the wonderful bliss of sleep.

I don’t remember dreaming much. I do remember opening my eyes and feeling mostly refreshed. I stirred and someone sat up beside me. I stared into blue eyes.

“Kurt...” I muttered, my vision a little blurry. Then I frowned. “You’re not Kurt.”

“No,” the girl said. I had vague memories of receiving a massage from her last night. Dawn had lightened my bedroom. She had strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes. “I’m Sharron.”

“Sharron...” I frowned. “You’re Kurt and Rosemary’s daughter.”

“I turned eighteen yesterday,” she said with a smile. “Aunt Rebecca arranged for me to be your virgin. I’ve wanted you to be my first for so long. My parents told me so much about you, that magical night you shared with them when you made my older sister, Cheryl, with Mom. I grew up hearing about how much Dad loved you before you became the world’s first futa. I’m so glad I’m here with you, Becky.”

I blinked at the spill of information. I’d heard that Kurt and Rosemary had their own daughter in passing, but ... I couldn’t believe she was here in the flesh. I stared into her face, her blue eyes the same shade as her fathers. She looked so much like Kurt, but softer, the feminine form of him. Lips not as bold, nose not as pointed, cheeks rounder.

A strange twitch beat in my heart.

“You didn’t have sex with me last night,” I said.

“Well, you were just so tired, Becky,” she said. “And I wanted our first time to be perfect.” Her smile slipped. “I know it’ll be the only time we’ll be together, but I’ll have your daughter to remember you by, and—”

I put a finger over her mouth. Confusion rippled across my thoughts. “No, no, you didn’t even mention it. You didn’t hump me. You don’t grab my futa-cock. You didn’t beg me to breed you.”

“Well, like I said, you were so tired, Becky.” She gave me a smile. “I mean, I’m definitely would love to make love to you.” She blushed. “I mean, if you want to. I understand you probably have all your important things to do and—”

She gasped as I thrust a hand between her naked thigh, cupping her furred muff. She was hot, and I could feel a trickle of her excitement. But she wasn’t drenched for me. Her nipples hardened now that I was touching her. Why hadn’t they before? Just being around me should have aroused her.

“You’re not turned on by me,” I said in awe. “You’re not ... overwhelmed by the need to have sex with me.”

“I guess not,” she said, her cheeks growing red. “But ... but ... the way you’re touching me. It’s nice.”

My fingers slid through her silky pubic hair to find the plump, virginal lips of her pussy. I stroked across her tight slit, my eyes wide in awe. This was incredible. She wasn’t overcome with lust for me. She wasn’t afflicted with hyper-ovulation.

There was something different about Sharron. Something I had never encountered in another woman before. She was almost like one of my own daughters, immune to the effects of my pheromones. Only I could have sex with Sharron. We weren’t related by blood at all.

My dick throbbed hard.

“Oh, wow,” moaned Sharron. “Oh, Becky, that’s nice and ... and ... You’re growing hard!”

“Well, you are such a cute thing,” I said. This was so ... different. It was almost like having a reunion with one of my old college friends. With girls I’d fucked so many times that they weren’t consumed with lust for me. Only...

The way she looked at me wasn’t because my pheromones sent her in heat. That desire I witnessed kindling in her eyes, that same desire I remembered in Kurt’s eyes that one night we made love, made my heart patter. I felt ... eighteen all over again. A virgin.

“Oh, Becky, that’s so nice,” Sharron gasped as I found her clit nestled amid her juicy folds and massaged it. “Oh, wow, you’re making me feel all kinds of tingly.”

“I am,” I purred, licking my lips. “Mmm, yes, I’m going to—”

A soft knock rapped my door. “Madam President, it’s almost time for your briefing.”

“Cancel it!” I shouted as I pushed Sharron down onto her back with my left hand, my right playing with her clit. “I’m sleeping in this morning. No disturbances unless it’s a national emergency.”

“Very good, Madam President,” the agent said.

For some reason, Sharron had a big, almost goofy, smile on her lips. It was so much like her fathers. My heart beat faster and faster. There was something special about Sharron. Maybe because Kurt was her father. Maybe ... my pheromones didn’t affect her. If his DNA triggered my transformation, perhaps whatever he had passed onto her made her ... immune.

I draped over her, my breasts swaying as I leaned in and kissed her. My mouth latched right onto hers, kissing her hard. I thrust my tongue into her mouth. She tasted so sweet. She groaned beneath me, squirming, kissing me back. Our tongues dueled and danced. She whimpered, my futa-dick nudging into her thigh as she shifted beneath me.

There was no aggressive passion that I was used to. Even in the most timid of virgins grew so wild after a moment. Just eager to get my cock in them to breed them. There was no of that. It was such a gentle kiss.

Different.

I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it. Her arms wrapped about my neck. My breasts pressed into her as I settled my body atop her lithe form. The eighteen-year-old girl shifted beneath me, her tongue dancing in mine as we loved each other.

I stared into her blue eyes, marveling at what I saw.

I couldn’t believe how amazing this was. I was feeling this rush of emotions I hadn’t felt since I was her age. I had given up on ever finding love, and now ... Had I discovered it in Kurt’s daughter? Part of me was so scared that I was tricking myself, deceiving myself, and I would only get my heart broken.

But another part of me celebrated as I kissed her.

I don’t know how long I made out with her, but it was longer than I had ever kissed any other girl. My nipples throbbed as they rubbed against her firm breasts. My cock ached. I didn’t care about any of that as I just enjoyed her mouth until finally I felt that passion beating through both of us. It had reached a crescendo that neither of us could ignore.

I broke the kiss, moaning, “Sharron!”

She beamed at me.

I nibbled on the edge of her mouth then down to her chin. I kissed along her jawline, making her squirm beneath me. I dug my tongue into that little notch beneath her ear, the one that always feels funny when you rub it.

She giggled and whimpered.

I nibbled on her ear. I kissed down to her neck. She had such a graceful neck. I tasted her salty skin as I moved lower and lower down her body. My hands stroked her sides and up to those firm, little titties of hers.

“So cute,” I purred, staring at her breasts, mine pressing into her stomach.

Her blue eyes sparkled. “Really? They’re not kinda small?”

“No such a thing as breasts too small or too large,” I told her. “They’re just right on every woman.”

“Becky...” she said, groaning. Then she gasped as I sucked on her nipple. “Oh, Becky, that feels so naughty!”

I sucked and nibbled and loved her little nipple. I swirled my tongue about it. She shuddered on the bed, squirming and groaning. Her head tossed back and forth. Her body bucked and squirmed. She humped against me, my nipples throbbing as her belly flexed beneath them.

I switched nipples, engulfing the other one, dusky-pink areola and all. I sucked hard on it, making her groan. Her face twisted with pleasure. Her cheeks blossomed with color as she tossed her head back and forth.

“Becky! Yes, yes, I like that, Becky!”

“Mmm, good,” I purred between sucks. “How about this?”

“Teeth!” she gasped, her body bucking as I nipped her nub. “Oh, wow, I kinda liked that. It was ... exciting.”

I sucked on her nipple, my fingers playing with her other nub. I stared into her eyes, loving the pleasure brimming in her azure depths as she squirmed on the bed. She humped against me, her stomach massaging my nipples. Tingles raced down to my pussy and aching cock. My juices flowed, leaking down my shaft and thighs.

I wanted to be in her, but I held back. I wanted to make such sweet love to this wonderful creature. I kissed across her small tits to attack her other nipple, sucking on it for a moment before making the trip back to the first. I loved her nubs, making her squeal and moan, her delight echoing through my bedroom.

“Becky!” she whimpered. “Oh, Becky, you’re ... you’re making me feel so ... so...”

“Hot?” I asked, looking up from her small breasts.

“Yes!” she moaned.

The innocent passion in her eyes made me shiver. The way she looked at me ... It was so familiar. I had been searching for a woman who could look at me and see more than a futa-cock for ... for ... two-and-a-half decades.

I found her.

I wasn’t letting her go.

My heart beat so fast. I felt this contented glow suffusing me. I shivered as I wiggled down her body, a naughty gleam in my eyes. My blonde hair draped over my shoulders. My nipples throbbed as they slid down her body.

“Well, if you’re feeling so hot down there, maybe I should do something about it,” I purred.

“Maybe,” she said. She bit her lower lip, looking so cute. “Oh, Becky, this is all so incredible. I can’t believe I’m really in your bed.”

“Mmm, believe it,” I said. I wanted to say more. To tell her that she would always be in my bed. I felt so young, drunk on love.

I didn’t want to scare her, but ... Maybe she wouldn’t be scared by it. I didn’t know. My heart hammered in my chest. My pussy clenched. Juices ran down my futa-dick as I kissed down her stomach.

I planted hot smooches on her belly. She giggled, her stomach flexing beneath my mouth. I loved it. She tasted delicious, a salty tang that melted on my tongue. I flicked around her bellybutton. Such delightful laughter burst from her lips.