Futa Hunter

Do sexual androids enjoy wet dreams?

Sonmi-09 is a futa on the run. But when her big, bulging secret is discovered by spaceport security, she finds herself in a sticky situation.

Rickard is a Futa Hunter. He’s in Neo-Tokyo, looking for a futanari android pretending to be human.

He’s got a hot tip his target is working in a Futa Maid Café in Neo-Tokyo’s red light district. He goes undercover, but can he resist the full-package of menu items on display?

Strap in for thirteen thousand words of cyberspunk action and sci-fi nerdgasm! Who’s a futa and who’s not? Is a futa human if she’s an android? Do sexual androids enjoy wet dreams?

Get ready to have your mind blown—and something else!

Preview and Comment after the jump…

The adult filter is one of the hazards of the trade, but it is frustrating. This is one of the more entertaining pastiches I’ve done, it’s much longer than the typical erotic short, and it’s launch is now ruined by the Adult Filter and it will never, ever, ever achieve the ranking it might have on its launch.

Here’s a small tease:

“Rickard, you dirty old bastard,” Kroger said, not rising from his plush armchair. He waved at a metal folding chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”

Rickard sat, ignored formalities. “What gives, Kroger? Your message said little.”

“That’s due to the security increase. All briefings are now in person.” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through thinning hair. “You’ve heard about Futa Automata, right?”

“Futomata? Sure.”

“Indulge me,” said Kroger, taking a cigar from his humidor. He did not offer one to Rickard.

“They’re lifelike sex bots with pussies and dicks, built like human futa,” Rickard said. “Sexy toys for the miners in the Outer Worlds.”

“That’s right,” said Kroger, lighting his stogie. “We call them Dick Jobs. But the Resistance is reprogramming them with military grade software and infiltrating them on Earth. They’re the most lifelike androids ever made, created from cloned human bodies. Almost undetectable.”

“Ain’t my problem,” said Rickard, knowing where this was going.

“For two thousand Terros, it is.”

“You bought yourself a Futa Hunter,” Rickard said, leaning forward. Two thousand Corporate Terros was a fuck-ton of cash. “What do I do?”

“Watch this,” Kroger said, turning his monitor around and pressing play.

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