u/IgnorantWriter

You've been working non-stop for the past six months. Everyone knows you need a vacation. Time to pull up flights and pick a place!

You've done your research, diligent as always. Local sights, weather patterns, budgets and itineraries planned down to the finest detail. You're ready for this trip—nothing will derail you from your plans.

Flash forward to the night you arrive and you're bent over your hotel bed with your wrists tied behind your back by your travel belt. You're naked and groaning as 9" of Futa dick finally fill you up after a very enjoyable session stretching your ass.

"An entire week, huh?" I say, idly reviewing your printed travel documents while I keep my girldick inside you. "That means you'll be my little foreign butt bitch for seven days, right?"

I give your ask a smack, compelling a response.

Truth is, you're thinking you might stay even longer than a week.

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Hah! just a fun vacation prompt today. I'll be here for a bit to set up and hopefully play this out with some lucky traveler later tonight.

Send a message with your chosen vacation date in your opener as well as kinks and who you are. Looking forward to your arrival!

Check out my new e-rp profile!

Being a Futa is tough. Finding pants that fit without revealing my enormous bulge, keeping the standard 9-5 hours without a chance to drain my balls, and everything else are all difficult enough, but if there’s one thing that drives me bonkers, it’s the presumption that I’m a ‘girl.’

When we’re out in public the waitress will ask you what we want to eat, as if I don’t control your diet. Shopkeepers defer to you, as if I don’t control the purse strings. Flight attendants have gotten so irksome that I’ve started paying extra to fly us private, which is pricey, but does come with the added benefit of getting to fuck you up high, instead of having you just jerk me off under a thin airline blanket.

Overall, I’m growing tired of living in this backwards society. Someday us Futas will take everything over and put all you boys in your place, but until then, I just have to deal with the sexism.

Or do I?

You come home from running errands one afternoon to see that I'm home early, standing at the doorway with an odd smile. At first you’re fearful that I’ll punish you for not having the house in order, thinking you got the time wrong. I quickly explain what happened:

“This gal at work was telling me about this new community they’re building. Oh honey, it sounds so PERFECT!”

‘Perfect’ may be the right word, but only in the Futanari sense. The town—FutaDom Town, since we tend to be a fairly literal sex—is an idyll straight from a 1950s fantasy. Starter homes on half acres with white picket fences and big backyards with huge garages for our Futa-sized cars. You flip through the pamphlet while seated on the couch while I pace the living room, going over the logistics.

“There’s an office park just 10 minutes from the neighborhood, so I’d cut down a ton on commuting costs, and I could keep my job. But I’d probably get involved with one of the eight startups that are moving there, and they’re ALL Futa-run companies. Isn’t that exciting? We could retire early!”

You’re already retired, technically. I ‘allow’ you to keep a part-time job just to get you out of the house and have a bit of pocket money for your boy hobbies. But in terms of career, I am very much wearing the pants in our relationship.

“Did you check out the kitchen in the model home? Some of them are even nicer than that!” You nod slowly as you flip to the pics of the model home in this rather fat brochure. Even before we moved in together, I always acted like cooking was something you enjoyed—rather than something you had to learn painstakingly after I explained ‘a boy’s place is in the home.’ You’ve certainly gotten better at it, but it’s not like stainless steel appliances and a granite kitchen island make your heart swoon.

“And you haven’t even seen the best part yet…”I guide you hands to the back of the pamphlet. You swallow hard at the pics of a fully-equipped BDSM dungeon, and the words ‘standard in every basement!’ In bright white text across the top.

“We could play every night…Dear.” I run my fingertips glancingly across your chin.

“So what do you think? When are you ready to move?”

You look up at me, wide-eyed, not knowing how to express yourself. This is all so sudden. Sure, there have been multiple dramatic life changes you’ve made since getting involved with me, but this takes the cake.

“Um… I’d need to think about it,” you say quietly.

I fold my arms beneath my massive tits, then nod.

“Ugh, you’re so right. We still have the lease on this little shitbox,” I say, referring to our rather nice two bedroom that, of course, I pay for. I look around like it’s some hovel. Now that I know about Futa Town, everything else is going to seem dull and distant.

I nod, decisive. “You can think about it, then.” I point to the bedroom. “Ass up and lubed. I’ll give it some thought myself while I’m pounding you.” You purse your lips. Always so romantic, us Futas. But you get up and do what you’re told, since being treated like an owned piece of fuck meat—which, again, is what you are—always gets your dick hard.

I watch you scurry off to the bedroom like a good little boy. Knowing you need a few minutes to get prepped, I flop onto the couch, pick up the brochure, and place it against my chest with a happy sigh.

Futa Town, here we COME!

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What happens when a fierce FutaDom and her semi-reluctant ‘straight’ male sub-boyfriend move to a first-of-its-kind Futanari-run town? Let’s find out! Excited to play this out with a male who can play the hesitant-but-willing guy I need to make this happen.

Send me your thoughts and kinks and we'll plan it out then play. Okay toodles!

Check out my new e-rp profile!

“Do all your chores, maintain a 4.0 GPA, and REMEMBER—no fucking the neighborhood boys!”

I roll my eyes dramatically from the passenger seat and scoff loudlyat my mother’s chiding. She ignores it, both hands locked tight on the steering wheel of her Futa-sized SUV as she pulls into the driveway of our new McMansion. It’s just me and her, always has been, but for some reason she needs 3 rows of seats and 5 bedrooms with an equal number of baths. It's the ostentation of a Futa who grew up the only dickgirl in town.

I’m different. My generation are more open about who we are. More… proud. Mom sees it as a huge liability when I wear jeans designed to emphasize my bulge, or even go out in skirts that are chronically tented. She has a banging body underneath her more “form-sensitive” attire, but if you’re not showing off your thick meat along with your busty tits and firm ass, then you’re just a regular slut. On that, we agree.

She shoves a sweater into my lap. “Cover yourself up, the neighbors are out.”

I brighten. She glowers at me.

“What did I just say?”

“Cover myself up!”

“No before that, about the—oh hi, neighbor!”

Your (step) mom marches right up to the driver side window, garden hose in one hand, spiked lemonade in the other. “Oh, we couldn’t wait to meet yooooou!” She coos, clearly tipsy from whatever’s in her lemonade. The hose spurts fresh tap water all over her yellow bikini top and down her ample fake breasts.

“Y-you too,” my mom, a professional public relations mistress, is at a loss for words, for once. I have to stifle my laugh, pushing my hands against my face. For all her talk of chastity, mom is helpless in front of a huge pair of fake tits.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m stealing a peek in the side view mirror too. But I’m not the one fumbling through introductions and trying to pretend there’s not a hard-on in my mom jeans like she is.

“Is this your daughter~?” Your(step)mom asks in an all-too-sultry voice. She lowers her pink sunglasses. “Oh you look so much alike! Tell me, do you go to Local University too?”

“Yes ma’am. Just transferred.” Prim and proper with the neighbor lady, just like mom asked.

“So does my son. He’s over there.”

I turn my head. Now it’s my turn to look agog. Mom’s mostly composed herself by now, discussing cute local coffee shops and a potential future housewarming while your (step)mom nods along, laughs, and downs her drink.

Meanwhile, my jaw is hanging open while I gawk at the hottest piece of boy-ass I’ve ever seen packed into an Old Navy swimsuit.

You lie face down on the flat chaise lounger with your tight butt in the air. Aside from the bathing suit and a few remnants of sunscreen, your flesh is completely bare. There are AirPods in your ears as your arms dangle from above, phone in hand, oblivious to the fact that a ravenous Futa is currently fantasizing about claiming your hole.

“Syl, it’s impolite to stare,” says my mother, with subtle warning in her voice.

I can’t help myself.

What did mom say about the neighbor boys again?

Oh, right.

She doesn’t have to know.

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pretty simple set up! Let me know what's on your mind. Also check out my brand new RPer profile that I just added. Ok, chat soon!