The Lazy Futa: 2- House Cleaning (Patreon)

Greetings dear patron. Hope you enjoyed a nice weekend. Did you enjoy that image I shared? That artist does some phenomenal work and some of those pieces really hit the mark for me.  Today I have the next offering of Lazy Futa. Over five-thousand delicious words of bags of cum basically. Some of the dreaded world building which starts to give a peek at what is really going on here.

What would a world where futanari appeared in great numbers even look like? How does legislation affect such people? There is also a but of wish fulfillment in writing this futuristic society trying to imagine a world which seems realistic, but also has plenty to be hopeful about besides huge titted and cocked humanoids running around.

I have some really fun and sexy plans cooked up for Penelope and sincerely hope you enjoy the ride with me. The first two chapters are kind of slow burn with implied growth, but there will be plenty coming up. Actual growth, animated and implied growth, even some giantess and muscle stuff. And more growth on top of all that! Gotta love it.

Without further ado, Chapter Two of Lazy Futa.

~Michelle

2 - House Cleaning

‘A little tidying can go a long way.’ The music she put on was going in the background, some soothing ukulele music with wave sounds and birds in the background. She lit an incense and was getting into it. She had read a few books about cleaning and decluttering since today was actually a big first step in an equally ambitious plan. She was going to become a better version of herself. She had fallen into depravity over the last year or two and fallen on hard times in the process. Lost her normal job and had to do things in front of a camera online to make money since she refused to leave her house. She was scared and watched too much news and was lazy and unmotivated on top of it all and it was a perfect storm for her to get stuck in this rut.

But the rut was turning into a worse perfect storm than the original one and if it weren't’ for her parents reaching out once and a while, a few decent friends, and some of the words in the books and podcasts she would enjoy, she might have ended up like those with ‘ISM’. The kitchen was nearly spotless, she had gone to the dollar store and figured out a neat way to hang things on the walls using wire racks to save space since her kitchen was laughably small. It looked great. A big win. She was already up to one more bag of trash nearly half full going through lots of old foods and the stuff she had in pantry cabinets above the sink and stove. But it all got a nice wipedown and dusting and she hadn’t had an erection in over an hour either since she was so concentrated on her work. She continued with the laundry area and general ‘catchall’ spot loaded with papers and junk while staying lost in thought.

The ‘ISM’. It was a source of true fear for people like her in their right mind. While everyone had an idea what ISM really was, only those under threat of it know exactly how close it loomed over their heads. She was pretty sure she would be alright, but the fear was always there. Penelope was known - officially according to the government - as an intersex that in general presented and used female pronouns. In other words, the most common variety of intersex person, but she was far from the only one or the only kind. Without going into too much detail, she was brought up in a world where general rights for all trans people and people of all races and creeds had finally been recognized and people could live in peace with all the rights and luxuries and without discrimination that one would expect from a modern society.

Society had gotten over a huge social hump and even the problems with the rich, poor, workers, and managers were making progress. Society and government seemed like it might have been bouncing back from the nightmare scenarios that it faced in the past.

That was when the birth of intersex people became more and more common. Thanks to trans rights, it was totally fine on paper and people were all cool with each other regardless of what was going on up or downstairs as long as you were good to each other. Which obviously, they all were.  

Something changed though. After a few decades of increasing intersex births the first futanari was born. A person with a working penis, vagina, and showed secondary sexual characteristics from both biological male and female anatomy. It was an anomaly at first, and although they were treated with the same rights and respect as you would expect, this was a biological miracle. Some claimed it was evolution and others claimed a third biological gender had appeared, and then others argued that there had been more than two for thousands of years and you know how it goes.

Needless to say, all of them got a little bit of the thing right and futanari, true intersex began to be born more regularly. Both from artificial insemination and natural honest to goodness old-fashioned baby making. Between intersex people and non intersex people and combinations of all of them. It was just like if parents were waiting to see their kids' biological gender at birth now there were three things to cheer for. Gender reveal parties had gone out of style more than a hundred years ago, but what color would they choose for the new intersex? Questions abounded and still do.

‘They have always been so friendly to me. I need to reach out more.’ Penelope’s kitchen/foyer was beautiful and sparkling and she had been working on her living area. It wasn’t much more than a hundred square feet and had enough space for a couch, a chair, a low table, and a wall of shelves where she had a media center, decorative chotchkies, a few antique gaming systems, a small terrarium with a living frog in it, and some pictures among other papers, books, and what have you. Basically, everything that wasn’t in the kitchen or her loft or closet was on one of those shelves. It wasn’t an extravagant life, but she made it by on universal basic income and a little bit of part-time work as well so she could afford the trinkets and various things she liked that UBI didn’t cover readily.

‘I need to be better. I will be better. Oh fuck, what is this?’ She pulled out a long snake-like dark green rubbery thing covered in dust and held it up gagging. ‘When even was this? Why did I throw it behind the shelf? Oh my-’ She gagged again and had to throw the ancient parcel into the trashcan as hastily as possible. She grabbed a flashlight and got down on the ground. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and brushed the floor lightly as she took a proper look at what lay beneath for the first time in a long time and it wasn’t pretty.

“Oh no…” She grabbed the cheap dry mop and began to hack away at the problem. Which was what society and law have been doing for the past few decades. Hack away at the problem, but this one just seemed too tricky because of how futanari were. Obviously, they were people like any other, but even the most timid and calm futanari had an unnatural, or rather, supernatural libido that could only be rivaled by the most excitable ‘traditional’ humans.

‘Traditional humans’. That was what they called the people that came before Futanari. Science was still learning the details, but upon closer inspection, the futanari were actually a different species in many respects, although they had a lot of overlapping qualities and similarities to ‘traditional’ humans. But as society was welcoming these new people with as open arms as possible, extreme situations popped up and a lot of questions were raised.

The extreme libido that was an everyday struggle for many futa was a badge of pride for many if not more and they exercised those urges with no shame. While many public displays of affection were more than acceptable, there were lines of privacy that most still preferred to remain uncrossed, at least in public spaces. Initially, if someone was walking their dog through the park and stumbled upon one or two futanari catching them in the middle of having loud rough sex, it was a surprise and you’d walk off, both parties a bit embarrassed over the outcome. But more and more the wonton flagrance of futanari lovemaking, if it could be called that since they seemed to be engaging in lewder and lewder acts in more and more public spaces with increasing frequency to the point where it was beyond a nuisance.

Staff at stores and restaurants found lewd puddles of bodily fluids they had to clean up not even in restrooms, screaming in the streets during odd hours kept neighborhoods awake, large stretched-out condoms filled with unreasonably large amounts of cum appearing like mushrooms in all locations, and much more started to wear on the public’s perception of this new third gender. Public lewdness and nuisance were the main things focused on and in many public spaces there were special facilities where Futanari could release their urges completely free of charge and without causing a disturbance to the population. That, and the fines for overly grotesque public displays of blatant sexual affection becoming more costly, fineable offenses curbed most of the issues. With facilities in place to encourage, and financial barriers in place to discourage poor behavior, Futanari were able to coexist with Trad-Humans to a great extent. But with humans and Futanari alike, there were outliers who represented the most extreme highs and lows of society and it was the emergence of these types that really threw a wrench in the system.

‘This is just the start, Penelope. A brand new start.’ She was humming along with the beachy music that was still going when her stomach growled and she decided to take a break. The living room was looking great, not spotless, but such a vast improvement. She found blankets and pillows and things she used ages ago and had run the laundry two times already. The closet’s contents were pulled out and laying on the couch. She separated her stuff into piles and decided to cut down her wardrobe and donate quite a bit of it and declutter. She would be better. She wouldn’t end up like the ones with ISM. ‘I’m starving, ugh. What time is it?’ She dusted her hands off on her shorts and wiped the sweat from her face. It was almost two o'clock. ‘Plenty of time. I am making really good progress. This is happening!’

She stepped into the kitchen pleased with how nice it looked which put a big smile on her face. She opened the waist-high fridge and knelt down staring at the contents. Cans of beer and energy drinks were stocked up and there were some condiment packets filling up a small door-tray like a ball bit. Tucked away behind a small barrier of energy drinks was a half-eaten sub sandwich wrapped in paper, but she didn’t remember when she bought it. Upon opening it half-way the smell alone told her it was a bad idea and she wrapped it back up returning it to the shelf. ‘Next trash day is on Monday, ugh.’ She saw the two full bags of trash she had created after three or so full hours of effort and lamented that her fresh clean kitchen was marred by their presence. ‘Progress, Pen. This is what it looks like.’ She grabbed an energy drink, cracked it open while standing up, and pressed the button on the water kettle plugged in to get some water boiling while closing the fridge door with her feet. They had a black sooty dirt on them from trudging around all morning and she was just about ready to do the floors. A cup of ramen was grabbed from the healthy supply in a cabinet filled with them and prepared robotically. She drank the energy drink while the water boiled and made her lunch.

“In the latest of a string of mysterious attacks, authorities claim that ISM may be the motivation behind-” Penelope changed the channel from the newscaster not wanting to hear another story of Futa doing terrible things. She didn’t want to end up like that. Hated that she had such potential in her DNA for some reason. Why didn’t they find a cure for it already?

“-emium luxury care that you need. That you deserve. Don’t bother with those free sterile offerings when you can be treated like royalty.” Penelope’s erection was diamonds as the seductive commercial played out before her as specimens of beauty beyond imagination lay atop plush beds in suggestive and borderline lewd poses. “Accommodations for customers with the LARGEST needs and EXTREME tastes can be catered to.” Breasts and butts bigger than she had ever seen in real life stretched shirts to translucence and wobbled seductively on the screen with hard nipples. Bulges running down black leather pants that threatened to tear you apart from how much pleasure they could deliver shined in sexy lighting. Slow motions, extreme close-ups of sweat running down naked flesh and cherry red-painted lips kissing lollipops and smooching veins on rock-hard muscles flicked one after another. “Won’t you come? Visit a Palatial Play-Shell today. Non-Futanari welcome.” The image of various intersex people in casual dress outside of the large clamshell-looking structure with arms around the shoulders of Trad Females, males, and trans people waved in welcome as the screen faded to black and another commercial for some hovering vehicle started up.

Her diamond prick stretched her shorts nearly to ripping and spilled enough dampness to darken the light blue terry to a navy that matched her sweaty tank top forming tightly to her chest. ‘It has been a few hours…’ She stood up from her steaming hot cup of ramen and half-finished energy drink and hopped into the bathroom which looked like someone had glazed the whole mirror and surrounding area. There was a drain plug in the sink and the shallow remnants of the morning's efforts that she didn’t scoop into the toilet and flush away. ‘Fuck that was so hot. I gotta check one of those places out.’ She ran her gentle hands, still gritty with dust and sweat, along the perilously thick meat that demanded her full attention. She pulled down her shorts to get more comfortable while stroking slowly biting her lower lip. Her balls had swollen up quite a bit in the last three hours and were larger than eggs. Her breath quickened as she brought herself to the edge of climax effortlessly after the extremely seductive images from the commercial.

‘Palatial Play Shell’. Squishing her thighs together she felt how wet and slippery they were and reached down catching her swinging nutsack on the back of her hand and slipped some fingers between her wanting, wet, lips. Something that erotic deserved a full double, she knew innately, and played catch up rubbing her engorged clitoris while barely touching the twitching tip of her impatient cock. She tapped the precum streaming down and brought a finger up to her lips while she felt her femme orgasm building up. The taste of her own pre-cum was intoxicating and the smell of it excited her. She added another finger and began to wiggle them like a piano solo while her thumb continued to run gently back and forth across her sensitive clit. With practiced skill that only a Futanari knew she sped up her piano solo and thumb work while her other hand mercifully began to stroke again and got into her rhythm. Emphasis on the left hand as the wet warmth and pressure of her fingers filled her, then emphasis on the right pulling and rubbing along the shaft with light twists hard enough to make sure her balls were slapping against her knuckles.

Left, right, left, right, left, right, both. She took in a deep breath when she went into perfect sexual sync and like standing in the middle of a hallway with a flood rushing from both sides she had a beautiful dual orgasm that rocked her whole body. Like a string of Christmas lights, all tangled inside of her finally the fuse holding all that tension back blew and wetness flooded over her fingertips spraying down her thighs onto the floor and her feet. Her knees buckled while simultaneously among that spreading permeating vibration was a strong steady beam of pleasure propelling along her length and coating the mirror anew arcing up and hitting the ceiling as she leaned back succumbing to the hold those spasms held over her. Her eyes crossed and the backsplash from the ceiling and mirror sent droplets across her cheeks and landed on her hanging waggling tongue. ‘Ohhhhhhhhhhh Myyyyyy Gahhhhhhh’ The reverberating echo from the blown fuse was a vibrating sea of feeling through which charged bolts of intense pleasure zapped outward stealing her self-control and she flailed around trying to grab something to keep from falling. As almost a dozen hot ropes of cum splashed against multiple surfaces in all directions she spun and slipped on a puddle of her own sex and flailed both arms grabbing towels on racks and reaching for toilet paper holders while she went down cursing madly and landing in a heap between the door and the toilet-sink-tub fixtures. Despite banging her head against the wall she still felt shudders running along her spine and tickling her shoulders as the final spurts shot themselves out and she was lost in the feeling.

“The ISM is what they are calling it. Inter-Sex Mania. And according to scientists, it is a genetic condition and what some postulate may be an inevitability for the emergent species.” The memory was in the back of any Futa’s mind after the initial news reports came out and the Trads gave a name to the thing that Futa both loved and feared about being them in this society. “Open perversion. Lack of empathy. Exaggerated and extreme growth. Unchecked aggression and insatiable lust. Culminating in a rampage of debauchery leaving sadness and pain in its wake with the perpetrator waking from this stupor in a state of mania ranging from hysterics to complete memory-loss.” The deadpan newscaster's voice boomed dully relating the terrible plight with all the relish of a eulogy hiding the merest hint of satisfaction.

“It was like a pull. Pulling me to go harder and harder. Get bigger. Get more. Feel more pleasure to the point you became the feelings. And, and. Well, continuing them was all that there was left. At least that was the last thing I remembered. I am so sorry to all the people who-” The memory often fades there for Futa. They know what happened. Everyone knew what happened and the person who gave that interview, one of the oldest still-living Futa, who was convicted for multiple lifetimes in prison and whose exploits prompted the creation of a brand new prison facility ‘Pearl Ocean’, made especially for people like them. Futanari.

“That was all Max Price, they/them, could remember. But for now, we can sleep safely once again and rebuild knowing that ‘Mad Max’ is behind bars and the ‘Max Attacks’ are finally over. Legislators in governing bodies are still in talks about what to do, but this event marks the turning of a page opening a new no doubt darker chapter in the growing mystery and wonder that is this new evolution. I’m Bill Blabher. Goodnight.”

Like waking up from a trance she blinked as her senses returned and found herself sitting in a puddle of wetness, her spent rod bobbing up and down wilting back to softness as it dribbled the last of the orgasm’s reserves. Her head throbbed a bit and the bathroom was a mess and she didn’t think she could leave without ruining a lot of hard work she made until that point. ‘Guess I can save the rest of the living room for later. This place needs help right now and I am totally spunked.’

“Yosh!” She smiled and pumped her fists bumping the toilet which had the remnants of soapy fizz spilling from it. She pulled herself up and ran the shower nice and hot, getting the place steamy and began to wipe a squeegee down the walls pooling most of the gelatinous cum on the ground. She used the squeegee and a dustpan to scoop up most of the mess and flushed it painlessly. She was also drenched and got undressed wringing out her shorts and tank top into the toilet as well before running them under the hot water to dissolve almost all of the mess. She had been through this before and had become quite an expert at cleaning cum and other bodily fluids from any surface. Totally naked, long soft dong flapping against balls and full perky tits bouncing and hanging and swaying all the while she commenced a proper clean up of the bathroom. With only a few minor clog scares, she cleaned up the whole place and even her toothbrush barely had any cum in it anymore. She could get the rest out with a couple of good brushings, no big deal.

After a nice hot shower and one more victory squeeze (causing almost another clog) as a reward for doing the bathroom so well, she emerged from the steamy room back into her kitchen whose entire floor was basically a bath mat. She had ruined a couple of towels from the earlier orgasms, but one was still clean enough that she used it while drying her hair. The bathroom barely even stank of semen now which was amazing. She would still have some time to head out to the store and grab a few things before those two came down to hang out that night. She made a note to pick up some candles and more cleaning products and a few other things too. ‘Productivity is at an all-time high now, baby!’

She walked into the living room where her half-finished lunch sat. It was only about four o’clock and she took off her towel and sat it on the floor where she sat at the low coffee table and finished her lunch flicking the TV back on. Taking a sip of ‘Slickarus’, she could feel the promised divine wings it bestowed build her up as she took up her chopsticks and went right back to eating the now cold and engorged noodles. She clicked the AC one notch and felt the cool wind blow against her nude body and shivered while leaning back against the sofa. There was a love-triangle drama about a gentle man and a masculine futa, but a masculine woman was getting between them. It was pretty intense and dealt with some big topics on a lot of people’s minds about Futa. Surprisingly, the Futa was kind of the victim in this situation as the man had second thoughts about his previously declared love when the somewhat militant woman espoused Futa for all being sex maniacs.

Thankfully the topic was serious enough and the actors and actresses weren’t too good or sexy so the urge to cum remained more than its usual distance away. By the time the late lunch, another can of energy drink, a box of snacks, and one more episode of ‘He, She, & They’ was completed, it was time to go shopping. She used the restroom after it had dried and tossed the old soaked roll of toilet paper replacing it with a fresh one. ‘I should get a picture or something for this room, it’s so empty.’ She thought while staring at the blank walls. ‘I should get some real receptacles as well. But they are so pricey. Hmm.’

She washed up and came back out into the living room opening the closet filled with fresh laundry. The place needed a touch more love, but she would do it when she got back from shopping. She had already done another load of laundry and the first two were dry now which was huge. She tucked her balls up into her pussy and pulled her shaft back between her butt cheeks and sealed it all with a pair of cute, tight boxer briefs. The closet was big enough that she actually could get a small wicker chest of drawers in there and rifled around for a pair of shorts. She liked the short shorts since her legs were so long and thin and it always felt hot to her and when she wore anything longer than this that wasn’t a skirt she was sweating all day.

The microfiber shorts were so soft and fluffy and they were a pinkish beige and felt great against her skin. They looked a little bit like pumpkin shorts, but not nearly as large. Her tight round booty filled them out nicely, but not to the point of stretching them smooth and taut. Another tank top, this one white, and a simple white bra. She toyed with the idea of putting on a kind of gossamer short-sleeved robe-looking top, but decided it was hot enough she didn’t need it. She popped on a large floppy straw hat with a rounded top wrapped with a simple black ribbon and grabbed her small emerald green plastic bag and she was ready to go.

Her bike was a simple dull silver one-speed with a bent-up black basket on the front that had seen better days, but it got the job done. There was also a small rack behind her seat over the back wheel she could use the loose bungees to strap a crate or some bags down onto when she did some big shopping, which was very rare judging by the sun-cracked and worn out black rubber of the bungee cords wrapped around the rack. She unclicked her lock and began to wheel it out to the parking lot where Antonio and Synthia had zoomed in and parked right near where she was walking at an incredible speed causing her to stop with a surprising jump that spread to her reaction. Tony and Syn’s reaction to seeing Penelope walking her bike out was primarily pure excitement and elation as they parked up quickly and hurried to hop out of the door to greet her.

“Pen! Pen! Taking the bike out? How is the air in your tires? All good?” Antonio asked, smiling and approaching not even bothering to shut the door on his girlfriend’s car. He always walked with a kind of waddle and the sway of his long reflective black button down shirt with red kanji patterns on it emphasized the motion. Penelope figured it was something to do with his hips or legs, but never brought it up. She just noticed it when he sped over to her side with the friendly talk.

“Hey Tone, thanks. I think I’m good, I didn’t really check.” Penelope kind of shifted the bike and leaned over looking at the tires which looked obviously low. Antonio was kneeling down to check it, giving it furtive squeezes and squat stepping towards the back wheel to check that one. Penelope looked over to Synthia who smiled at her while rising out of the little vehicle. It was a purple and gray two seater that was more like a floating pod or a smart car. The ‘new, classic, compact, people mover’ it was called in the commercials. It was ugly, but the price, safety, and convenience was perfect for singles and couples. “Hey Syn.”

“Yeah, you’re in trouble down here. I will grab the pump. I’m grabbing the pump, babe. Pass the groceries, I’m headed up!” Tony said, rushing around grabbing bags, closing doors, waving at his girlfriend, and then huffing up the stairs. Syn waved and nodded letting him run around.

“Hey there stranger. You look good, Pen-pen. I like the hat.” Synthia was an alien to Penelope and always had a generally cool attitude. She was way too cool and had such a unique look - tall, almost as tall as the trash guy this morning, but somehow as thin if not thinner than herself which was wild. She didn’t have a lot of curves, but was feminine and wore her hair in long braided pigtails down past her waist. She once claimed she had never had her hair cut on purpose in her life. She wore tight tight clothes that showed off her body like a jungle cat in full extension covered in color lycra. She had a plain face, but her make up was really flashy and she was really good at it. She had a channel where people would watch her tutorials and stuff and she was actually kind of a big deal, but didn’t play it up too much. Penelope low-key had a bit of a crush on her.

“Looking great as always Syn. Sorry I haven’t been around. It’s been kind of tough for me and-”

“My boy-toy is doting on you like a little maid again. He must be trying to turn me on. I swear that little whore likes you more than me sometimes.” She scoffed playfully walking up to Penelope and putting a hand on the handlebar right over Pen’s. “Thought after that night we heard that loud bang and caught you passed out naked in a pile of beer cans you were never going to talk to us again. Looks like we are hanging out tonight?  You good with that?” She rubbed Penelope’s hand gently a few times before retracting it and placing it on her hip.‘She touched me so tenderly…’ Was all she could think of for a moment until reality came back to her.

“He is just really helpful. Both you guys are and, yeah. I am trying to turn over a new leaf and all that. I have been cleaning all day. I think spending more time with real people will be good for me. I feel like I have been in self-imposed quarantine or something and when you guys found me that night it was kind of a low point for me and I-”

“Got it! Hang on there pretty ladies! Reliable tough Antonio is going to sort us all out! Here we are!” Antonio reminded Penelope of a pug sometimes, but he was really the sweetest of sweethearts and cared so much for his girlfriend and neighbor. He was a people pleaser and they both thought it while he pumped the tires full of air and smiled when he noticed them looking his way. “Won’t be long now, girls. I got ya.” He said doing his one step up and down on the foot pump arms going back and forth in rhythm with it. Syn’s ice cold demeanor thawed a little when she watched him like this and then a fire crossed over her and the pre-swoon turned into a devilish smile. She turned to Penelope.

“I am glad you are ready to hang out again. We have been waiting for a good time to approach you, and finally Tone got you this morning. We grabbed the bottle you like and we will bring controllers and stuff.” She was calm and cool again. She said everything Pen wanted to hear. It had been almost half a year, but it was like no time had passed at all as far as their friendliness was concerned. Tony was being a bit extra, but his heart was in the right place and he knew more than any of them that the three of them were great together.

“Babe, kneeling down is driving me nuts. I’m gonna need a break after this” Tony said with kind of a pleading look on his face to Synthia. She ignored him.

“So we will see you tonight. After you go out for a bike ride?” She asked.

“Yeah, I want to pick up a few things at Cheap Street for tonight. I should be back home by like sevenish. I will let you two know.” Penelope said and reached a hand up touching Syn’s upper arm. She brought her hand up holding Pen’s hand there for a bit and they stared at each other. Tony popped up right then just besides them.

“She’s ready to ride, Pen.” He said and they broke their trance and looked his way. He was nodding with his lips pursed up, satisfied holding the pump off his hip wiping his other hand on his shirt. Penelope leaned in for a big hug and pulled his face into her cleavage since he was a touch shorter than her. She pulled in Syn and wrapped her arm around and they had a bit of an awkward group hug with her bike at the center. The bike was glad to be included to say the least, but was concerned for Antonio who was running out of air suffocated between the big soft melons that were starting to perspire in the hot sun. With one last loving squeeze Penelope released them all and smiled.

“You guys are too good to me. You might have saved me, honestly.” There were tears in her eyes and her lips were taut fighting back a sob lurking in the background of her heart. “I’ll see you tonight Tone, Syn.” She got settled on her bike and then rode off leaving the two of them in the dust as she raced towards Cheap Street. Tony put his arm around Synthia’s waist and they shared a few moments watching their friend ride off exchanging unheard words before heading back to their apartments.