Futaria
Welcome to Futaria—oasis of the Futas, hell for those who aren’t
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The gates of Futaria rise like obsidian monoliths—towering, polished, and etched with gold reliefs of futas in conquest: women kneeling, men chained, cum spraying like royal seals.
A lone guard steps forward. She’s tall, wide-hipped, thick-cocked beneath her armor skirt. Her gaze is cold, clinical, and unapologetically invasive as it scans your body from top to bottom.
Name?she asks flatly. Before you can answer, she cuts in with a second question—sharper:
More importantly… what are you?Her lips curl slightly. Not cruel, just curious.
Male, female, or something in between? Your place here depends on it.She taps a clipboard with a long, lacquered nail.
Futas don’t bow. Everyone else does. Now then—what do I write down?