Futa With Male Novels & Stories

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

Mom and I board a flight to Fangoria to visit Alicia Carter, my wife. She's a special forces soldier who's here on a peacekeeping mission in this foreign country. But the moment we walk out of the airport, we're ambushed by a group of kidnappers. One of them holds a gun to Mom's head and says, "If you don't give us the ransom in three days, we'll blow her head off!" In a panic, I make a video call to Alicia, my hands shaking as I beg her to help me. "Calm down, honey. I'll put in a request to lead a rescue mission. We'll save her within 24 hours!" But the next day, I keep failing to get in touch with Alicia. After I blow up her phone with multiple calls, one finally connects. Amid her rushed panting, she tells me, "Sorry, honey. I just got assigned to an urgent escort mission. You guys just hang in there. I've arranged for the local authorities to—" Her voice is abruptly cut off by a familiar male voice. "Alicia! Thank goodness you came over just to pick me up. I didn't have to spend 100 dollars on a cab after all! That cab driver didn't even have a license, and I can't believe he tried to ask for more money…" The three-day deadline passes, and the kidnappers keep their word, letting me hear the gunshot myself. As I clutch Mom's cold, dead body, Alicia calls me out of nowhere. "Hey, honey. I just completed the escort mission. How are things on your end? Have the kidnappers released her?" I look down at Mom. Her eyes will never open again. I gently wipe the blood off her face as I reply to Alicia in an eerily calm voice, "Yeah. They have."

My wife, Ruth Quarmby, had a twenty-year-old male apprentice named Craig Smith. He secretly turned off a diver’s scuba tank underwater. This caused an accident. He then posted three posts on his social media feed. The first post said, [I played a little prank underwater by shutting off my instructor’s mother-in-law’s scuba tank. Now, she’s in a coma and heading into surgery. But hey, I’m innocent!] The second post said, [Toast one: from a broke mountain kid to a certified diver. All by myself! Toast two: I confessed my love to someone I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t cross that line. Toast three: here’s to every lonely night I suffered through.] The third post said, [Best instructor ever. Without her, who else would cover for my pranks?] I told my wife to pay for the surgery to save the person quickly. But in front of the operating room door, she told me solemnly to give up on the surgery. “Your mother is old and fragile. Saving her is a waste of resources. Even if she makes it out alive, she’ll be bedridden. She’ll wish she were dead. Just let her go.” She quickly signed the Refusal of Treatment form. Then, she threw the signed form in my face. I kept quiet. The person lying in the operating room was her own mother.

During my mother's prenatal testing, the doctor discovers that I, the baby she's carrying, have the XYY syndrome. Since Mom's health is frail, it will be hard for her to have another baby. My parents somberly decide to have me anyway. When I'm in elementary school, my nanny is playing with me when I accidentally break her arm by stepping on it. During middle school, a few thugs try to rob me on the street, only to end up in the hospital because of me. This one incident makes me famous. Word keeps spreading until I become known as a bully in school. No one dares to offend me at all. I've since graduated from college. During a class reunion with my college classmates, Zoey Johnson, my girlfriend of three years, brings Michael Greer, her male best friend, with her. When a game of Truth or Dare starts, Michael bluntly shares one of Zoey's secrets. "I know she has a mole on one of her nips." He looks smug about what he has just revealed. Everyone else has fallen silent. After glancing at Zoey, who's sitting beside Michael, I pull her off the couch and say, "Take your top off. Let's see if he's telling the truth."

When my wife, Anna Smith, and I went back to her hometown for the New Year’s, her male best friend, Liam Reid, barged into our bedroom. Late at night, he suddenly unbuttoned his top and exposed his bare chest. “Anna, my imaginary bosom hurts. Please massage them to make me feel better!” Anna wanted to massage his chest when I flipped the tumbler over next to our bed in frustration. Anna’s face immediately fell. She glared at me in hatred as she roared, “He’s experiencing a psychological issue due to hormonal imbalance. Do you even know science? Why is your mind in the gutter?” Liam pretended to cry as he sobbed, “Sawyer, don’t blame Anna. We’re best friends, and we’re basically sisters. “It’s my fault. If I had been born with a real bosom, I’d definitely stay away from Anna.” I looked at his fake demeanor and smirked. I did not tell them that I had obtained a wish stone, and that it allowed me to change one bodily structure. Since Liam desperately wanted to be a woman, I would make his wish come true by giving him a huge bosom. He could massage them however he wanted.

At three in the morning, the class monitor, Hayden Clark, suddenly posted a message in the group chat announcing that the graduation photos would be taken the morning after next. He then sent a payment QR code in the chat, where each student had to pay 50 dollars for the graduation photos. I told Hayden that I had my thesis defense scheduled for the morning after next and asked if the time could be changed. He immediately snapped back at me, “Is your time the only time that matters? If you can’t come, then get lost!” Wanting to keep the peace, I paid the money and went through great trouble to rearrange my schedule. But when the day for the photos finally arrived, Corin Vale told me, “The graduation photos were already taken yesterday!”

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

After three years of marriage, I suddenly began to realize that my wife might have a low libido. One evening, my older neighbor, who was sympathetic, kindly invited me over. That night, I stumbled upon his wife in the middle of a passionate entanglement with another man through a crack in the door. The next day, my neighbor said to me, "Hey, Cyril, you know, Heather has always liked you."

When my daughter, Jasmine Richmond, attends my boss' birthday banquet with me, she gets violated there. Meanwhile, I just stand at the doorway of the private room, completely unmoved by Jasmine's cries of help. Since then, Jasmine has become depressed. As my wife, Riley Stuart, watches Jasmine lose more weight overtime, she swears that she will seek justice for Jasmine no matter what. But on the day the court case is opened, I give false testimony for my boss and has personally overturned all the accusations. Jasmine breaks down on the spot. She then hurls the documents at me angrily. "You're no dad of mine! You're just a bastard! I will never forgive you for the rest of my life!" Riley rushes over and shoves me away. As she shields Jasmine from me, she screams at me in a voice that's trembling from rage. "Do you even have a conscience left? How dare you collude with outsiders and ruin our daughter!" After I walk out of the courthouse, Jasmine's maternal relatives have me all surrounded. With an icy expression, I goad them on the spot. "Go on, lay a finger on me. I'll make sure to have you locked behind bars in no time!"