The Futa's Revenge Page 4

  “False…you…”

  “Oh very,” Dava said, disconnecting Morinth’s cuffs with a touch. “Respectable citizens shouldn’t need to live under the fear of your accusations. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in,” Dava grinned, twirling the magnetic cuffs on her finger.

  Jalt retreated a step, but not far. Amala grabbed him from behind. Immediately he struggled against her grip. Amala laughed at how easily she held him while Dava attached the cuffs, releasing him and stepping back as Dava secured him to a durasteel pillar rising out of the floor.

  Amala stepped back, staring at Jalt struggling uselessly against the cuffs. “What do we do with him?” Amala asked.

  “A good question,” Morinth said. He rose from his chair, rubbing his wrists before shoving his cock back into his pants. His visor flickered as it washed itself in new pixels. “He could be a nuisance if he manages to find anyone who would listen to him.”

  “Mmm, I think I might have an answer,” Dava giggled.

  Amala looked her way. “Oh?”

  Dava drew nearer the statuesque futa. “Yeah,” she said, walking two fingers up Amala’s chest. “You know, we’re always looking for more workers for the brothel. And I think your friend here would fit right in. With a few…modifications.”

  “Yeah?” Amala breathed, nipples stiffening against her shirt. “Such as?”

  “Mmm,” Dava purred, pressing herself against the futa, her breasts mashing against the amazon’s own. “How about a pair of heavy breasts just begging to be squeezed. Hips to die for and a tiny little beta dick so you’ll always know just what he was.”

  “Fuck,” Amala breathed, her cock straining her pants at the mental image. “You can do that?”

  “Oh yeah,” Dava giggled. “Course, it would be a bit expensive. But I think we can work something out. There’s lots of women and men who visit the station that would love to take your massive cock. It’s a good deal,” Dava purred, rubbing her curves against Amala. “All the sluts you can fuck and your ex a pretty little bimbo dick girl worshipping your cock. What could be better?”

  Amala considered the idea, but didn’t need to for long. Her pants creaked against the hardness of her cock at the mental images it conjured. She grinned wolfishly, pulling Dava against her so hard the bimbo gasped. “Nothing. Let’s do it. Turn him. Make him into a curvy slut.”

  Dava grinned. “Gladly.” And slipped from Amala’s grasp. The futa stood back, taking in the scene as the buxom security officer sauntered over to Jalt. She didn’t hear what the buxom bimbo said to him as she bent over. But she did catch the name Calidan, the fearsome prison where only the worst of the system’s criminals were sent. Immediately Jalt deflated, submissively allowing Dava to uncuff him, lead him to the chrome chair in the corner Amala remembered so well. He stripped, every movement marked with shy uncertainty as his slim naked body was unveiled. Her breath hitched as Dava lowered him into the seat and the shackles snapped shut. Pre moistened the front of her pants as she watched Morinth hook a pair of projectors over Jalt’s ears and touched them, causing a field of holographic light to bend before his eyes. Jalt’s mouth slowly fell open, gaping in aroused stupidity.

  Amala snapped her eyes up as the ceiling opened. A pair of long tubes snaked down, ending in rubbery cups Morinth attached to Jalt’s flat chest.

  She felt Dava behind her only when the buxom blonde’s breasts pressed against her back. “The cups are to make sure he gets the prettiest pair of fat tits,” she said, her hands running down Amala’s front.

  Amala’s breath deepened as the machine began to hum. She jerked as a rubbery cock inserted itself into Jalt’s ass. How he gasped, moaning faintly as the rubbery prosthetic dick began to thrust in and out of him.

  “That’s to give him a good dose of estrogen and mutagen. Make sure his ass gets nice and deep for all the cocks he’s going to take,” Dava said, her hot breath washing over the back of Amala’s neck. Her clever fingers playing with the front of the futa’s pants before drawing out her dusky length.

  Amala shivered in desire as she watched Jalt begin to move to the thrusting of the cock. How his gasp became a moan, his eyes masked by the holo field.

  “Look at his chest,” Dava purred, her hands snaking up under Amala’s shirt, finding her breasts and tweaking the dark nipples.

  Amala did, and then couldn’t look away. Jalt’s flat chest began to grow. The cups hummed, pulsating. With every throb they seemed to draw out his flesh. Swelling breasts beneath the cups.

  “His cock,” Dava purred.

  Amala looked. “Oooh,” she moaned as she watched Jalt’s modest length shrink, shrivelling against whatever mutagen was being pumped into him. Before her eyes Jalt transformed. Slim hips rounded and ass swelled against the netting of the seat. He began to moan, moving against the thrusting cock, breasts ballooning to soft, swollen teats.

  Only his dick remained to show what he had been. Even hard, throbbing with need, it was so small. Maybe the size of her thumb. He shuddered, cumming, his minute cock squirting his seed, seeming to shrivel further as he came. “Oh…” Amala breathed at the sight. “Oh fuck…”

  “Don’t cum,” Dava breathed into her ear as she continued to pump the futa’s cock. “If you do, you won’t have as much to pump into his slutty ass.”

  Amala grit her teeth. Fisted her hands. She held back. The promise of stuffing Jalt’s virgin ass with her cock. Of fucking his softened, swollen, effeminate body was already almost too much. She shook, but held. Held against Dava’s playful touch. Her tweaking of Amala’s nipples and soft stroking of her cock.

  At last, Morinth touched a panel. The machine slowed. Jalt gave a needy whine of protest as the cock withdrew from his ass with a pop. The cups unfastened themselves and retreated back into the darkness of the ceiling. The shackles snapped, opening, releasing him.

  Where a man once entered, something less, and something more, climbed out. Amala sucked in a breath at the sight of Jalt’s heaving breasts. The soft, wanton roll of wide womanly hips and the quivering of a luscious ass. And to finish the picture, the tiny cock buried between his thighs. Morinth touched the projectors on the side of Jalt’s head and switched them off, revealing eyes dulled with lust.

  “Go get ‘em tiger,” Dava giggled and released her.

  Like an animal loosed from its chain Amala surged across the room. She grabbed Jalt, turning his face up. She stared down into his softened features, his lips parted, eyes dull, so pretty and pouty and oh so feminine. She grinned, and crushed him in a kiss.

  Jalt moaned, surrendering to her grasp. She pulled him against her, breasts mashed, her cock crushed against his tiny dick. She groaned, twitching her hips, frotting with him as she rubbed her domineering cock against his.

  She broke the kiss, looking at him, how he quivered in her arms, lips parted and whimpering with helpless desire.

  “A-Amala…” he gasped.

  “Yeah?”

  “P-please,” he whimpered. “Please. I’m so empty. Please.”

  “Oh Jalt,” she breathed. Paused. “No.” She tightened her arms about him. “You need a new name. How does…Jenny sound?”

  “J-Jenny?”

  “Yeah. I’d fuck a Jenny,” she said. “I’d bend a Jenny over the table and fill up her needy asshole with my cock. Fuck them until I stuffed the full of my seed. How about it Jenny?” she hissed. “Want me to fuck you?”

  At the thought of taking the futa’s throbbing cock Jalt pressed himself against her. “Oh stars. Please. Please yes! I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

  “Then bend over. And I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

  Shivering with need, fat tits heaving with every ragged breath, Jalt bent over Morinth’s desk, thrusting out his swollen rump. He looked over his shoulder, wiggling his rear enticingly, back door still gaping from the pleasured reaming of the chair’s cock.

  Amala lost what little self control she had left. She grabbed his hips and thrust home. “Nnnna
aaa!” Jalt moaned, planting his cheek and fat teats on the hard steel of the desk, panting as Amala began to viciously fuck his ass.

  “Fuck! Perfect little butt slut!” Amala groaned as she hammered him. Leaned over him, pressing him harder into the desk as she grabbed his tiny cock and began to stroke him. “Fuck! Tell me! Tell me how much you love being fucked by my cock!”

  “I do,” Jalt moaned. “I dooooo. A-Amala! Please! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

  Amala swore, her name, gasped with the keening high note, formed by Jalt’s full pouty lips, sent her over the edge. She roared, hammered his cushiony ass, filling him with a final stroke with every inch of her swollen cock, and came.

  She stuffed him with her seed. Jalt cried out, his girlish voice piping with orgasm. She felt his beta dick twitch in her hands and his seed spurted out, dribbling onto the cold floor. He whimpered as Amala’s hot cum filled him. His eyes rolling back with an overload of pleasure.

  Amala put more weight on him, crushing her former boyfriend and his immense tits into the table. Humiliated, overpowered, less than a man. But all hers. She sighed, stroking his flanks, feeling him quiver and again begin to move against her.

  “Oh Jenny,” she breathed, fulfilled, satisfied in every way. “We’re going to have so much.”

  Epilogue

  The console glowed against the darkness of the brothel. A curtain of light locked the interior off from the anteroom. Diana hesitated, her finger flicking the scrolling options as she inspected the girls available in private rooms. “What am I doing here?” she murmured as she scanned the faces on the screen. A hundred hair styles, a dozen skin colours, all with a familiar body shape of bimbofied sultry pleasure.

  Wait.

  She stabbed the screen, freezing it. Flicked back up and stared. A cocky eyed woman with mocha skin stared back from the screen, a domineering gleam in her eye. She was dressed in dark leather straps across her body. And in one hand, she grasped a rigid cock. Those eyes pierced her soul. Diana’s breath sped up at the sight of the muscular amazon, seeming to challenge her through the screen.

  Diana swallowed. Pressed a credit chit to the screen. The machine beeped and keycard with the number 79 was spat out. Fairly trembling, Diana took it, glanced about, and pressed through the humming field.

  She walked through the dark corridor, wondering with every step what she was doing. But the woman’s face rose again and again in her mind, urging her on. The dusky skin and that virile futa cock. Her hair, tangled and careless. Her body luscious and sculpted. Strong. Heat rose to Diana’s cheeks as she shuffled down the hall, ticking off the numbers she passed, blushing at the moans radiating from behind each door.

  She stopped. 79. She looked again at her card and took a deep breath, and swiped it on the keypad.

  The door slid open a moment later. Diana gaped at the statuesque woman towering over her. Mocha coloured skin sculpted with muscle bound tight in straps of leather and silver buckles. Curly dark hair and smoky eyes, and from her groin, a rigid cock. As she took her in, Diana caught her breath at a scent. Something sharp and musky. Something that made her knees tremble and quim moisten with desire.

  “About time,” Amala said. “Come in.”

  Diana obeyed. Stepping through the door in a daze she looked about the room. A simple chamber, the walls mirrors reflecting a wide bed. Cuffs and chains dangled from the ceiling like some dungeon from old terra. Diana’s heart beat faster. She jumped as the door snapped shut behind her. A light above the door flicked red.

  “Strip.”

  The command seemed to vibrate down her spine. With shaking hands Diana touched the clip of her bodice. It opened with a snap and she shucked off her shirt and pants. She flushed in the heat of the room and self-consciously tried to cover herself with her hands, but the mirrors showed her from every angle. She couldn’t look anywhere but at herself, pale and vulnerable.

  She watched in the mirrors as Amala approached her. Grabbed her. Spun her about. Diana stared at the woman’s face, glanced away from the intensity in that gaze, and found herself staring at Amala’s cock.

  “Like what you see?”

  Diana swallowed. Nodded shakily.

  Amala touched her dick, stroking it slowly. Leisurely she sat down on the edge of the bed, legs parted. “Why don’t you give it a taste?”

  Diana licked her lips. Slowly she lowered herself to her knees before the domineering dickgirl. Barely thinking, she opened her mouth and took Amala’s cock in her mouth.

  The flavour struck her at once. Her lashes fluttered. A moan escaped her as she bobbed her head, sucking Amala greedily. Amala touched the back of her head, urging her on. “That’s it. Lube it up nice and wet. After this, I’m going to be taking your ass hard.”

  Diana swallowed, her breath hitching at the thought. She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, running her tongue up and down Amala’s glans. She couldn’t understand what she was doing. Had never done this before. But something about the woman before her compelled her. Made her serve more eagerly. The futa hissed, fingers tugging at Diana’s hair. Pulling her off, Diana gasping, breathing heavily.

  “Mount me.”

  Diana did. She stood and straddled Amala’s lap. The futa grabbed her hips, grinning wolfishly at her as she guided her down. Diana gasped as the tip of Amala’s cock prodded her sopping quim. She moaned as she descended upon it, feeling it stretch her to the limit. But she kept going. Deeper. She wanted to take it. Take it all. Be enough for this thick cocked woman.

  At last, she hilted. For a moment she stayed there, panting with desire. Then, Amala began to move.

  “Ah!” Diana gasped, trembling as Amala started to thrust inside of her. “Y-yes!”

  Amala grinned. Leaned forward and took one of Diana’s pink nipples between her lips and sucking greedily. Diana moaned, thrusting out her chest, trembling as her cunt was conquered by the futa’s rough fucking. She tossed her head, gripping Amala’s shoulders for support. In every mirror she caught herself being taken. Being conquered. From every angle she saw Amala’s cock plunge into her well stretched cunt. Her flushed thighs and parted mouth.

  “Y-yes!” Diana moaned. “F-fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

  Amala laughed throatily. “Damn right my little slut!”

  “Yes! Take me! Take your slut!” Diana screamed.

  Diana got her money’s worth. After she came in her cunt Amala flipped Diana over and fucked her ass, shoving fingers slick with lube into her starred hole before plunging her cock inside of her. The chains were used, dangling Diana atop the bed helplessly while Amala teased her with featherlight touches and rough smacks on her soft ass. The hours bled away into a seamless stream of pleasure. She came. Every twitching orgasm topped by the next. By the end she was laid out on the bed, trembling and panting, Diana’s whole body aching with the work out.

  Above the door, the red light switched off.

  Diana dressed, her hands shaking. Amala watched from the bed, her Amazonian body still bound by the straps, her manhood stirring at the sight of Diana’s lust hazed movements. When she was finally dressed Diana opened the door.

  “See you soon.”

  Diana froze at Amala’s knowing tone. She glanced back at the futa, who gave her a look of amused confidence. Blood rushed to her face, and Diana fairly stumbled out into the hall. As she hobbled out onto the station deck, she paused and glanced back at the buzzing field which split off the brothel from the rest of the station. Her breath quickened and a flush climbed her cheeks. She staggered away, already considering how she might budget in another visit with the fierce futa and her dominating cock.

 

 

 
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