A Condom Big Enough for a Futa Ch. 05

The building in front of her was grandiose. It caught her eye as soon as she stepped off of the vehicle, standing out from the businesses around it in the downtown area of the city. Reaching towards the sky, it appeared as though it had been recently given a fresh coat of bright red paint, and the name of the company that owned it was emblazoned by a flashy sign across its front, making it unique amongst the drab office spaces that flanked its sides. A decorative fountain of a Renaissance-style Cherub pouring water from a vase adorned the middle of the courtyard in front of it, surrounded by smartly dressed workers that were mixed with fashionably adorned others - others that Victoria guessed were probably models or prospective designers. Her feelings of alienation were enhanced as she took in these sights, and Victoria once again pulled at different parts of her ensemble as if to make the whole thing easier.

Luckily, the normal expression that she wore was what was referred to as 'resting bitch face' and it acted as a natural deterrent for anyone who might give her shit about how she looked; combined with the fact that her choice in a tighter-top didn't hide her seemingly unnatural musculature, her large biceps and shredded abs sticking out through the lightly-colored blouse, meant that only the bravest of souls would try and approach her uninvited. Remembering all of this, Victoria strengthened her stance and began to walk towards the entrance, not giving anyone around her a single glance, putting a powerful stride in her step. Slipping through the rotating glass doors, she marched directly for the secretary at the front of the lobby, continuing to ignore those around her.

The receptionist was as beautiful as could be expected from someone who worked at such a distinct place of business. Victoria could only really see her torso, and she was dressed in a way that combined the people wandering around the premises' choice in clothing, her outfit professional yet stylish; a smart-looking jacket, no doubt designer, covered her modest chest, which was enveloped by a dark pink button-up shirt. A pair of small, square glasses rested on her nose, covering a pair of baby blue eyes framed by bleached-blonde hair, her face scrunched in concentration as she rapidly tapped her fingers against the keyboard in front of her. She had a kind of refined beauty the futa hadn't seen in awhile, and once again her loins began to come alive beneath her skirt, which she did her best to disregard.

Victoria waited for a greeting, standing awkwardly a few inches away from the desk.

"Hello," the blonde finally looked up at her from behind her monitor, albeit just barely, "how can I help you?"

"Uh hi," Victoria stuttered, the fish-out-of-water feeling she was struggling with deepening, "I'm here for a modeling appointment."

The secretary rolled her eyes.

"That narrows it down. Who are you supposed to be meeting with?"

"I'm not sure?" Victoria's teeth grit for a moment, her cheeks turning pink, "I just know there were, um, tryouts today."

"Listen, honey," the woman's voice was becoming more condescending with each word, "this is the headquarters of National Model Management, one of the biggest modeling agencies in the world. We have dozens of shoots and interviews here every single day, with some of the most famous designers, agents and models alive working here. So you might be at the wrong place, unless you can be more specific."

"...it's the futanari modeling I'm here for..."

The futa's words came out in a quick mumble, her anger barely constrained.

"What was that? You'll need to speak properly for me to understand you."

"I'm here for the 'special' modeling session! I don't know much more about it!"

"Special...?"

She gave Victoria a confused look for a moment before typing rapidly, turning her attention towards her monitor. Taking a deep breath, Victoria glared at the rude woman as she waited, fists clenched at her sides, her forearms flexing automatically; her anger seemed to awaken her lust, two things that she was finding to be uniquely connected together, and this interaction was just confirming that fact. The futa tried to imagine anything that wasn't leaping over the desk and imposing her carnality on the blonde. She knew she could get away with it too, that same sort of 'sense' she got from the beauty on the bus emanating off the worker. If she could just take a moment to put this bitch in her place...

But for a moment, those thoughts barreled full force through her brain. It played out exactly in the way her anger-fueled lust wanted to, with her hopping onto the desk and unleashing her beast onto the bitchy woman. Her massive cock would swipe away her monitor and all the papers and pens on her workstation like a perverse broom. She'd spray as much baby batter across it and her as she could, punishing the receptionist for her transgressions, ruining her expensive outfit and everything she needed to do her job. The woman might resist at first, but Victoria was sure that she'd end up leaning over and slurping up her frothy offering before planting kisses across the futa's superior shaft.

Out in public for everyone to see, Victoria would dominate the stranger. Bend her over the messed desk and fuck her for everyone to see. Plow her until she was a gibbering, orgasmic mess. Cover her in so much cum no one would be able to tell who she was. All the models, business folks and security would get an eyeful of what Victoria could do to them and would do to them next. By the time the sun fell and the moon rose, she'd be standing amidst a pile of passed-out bodies, each one changed permanently by the best sex they'd ever get in their life. Victoria would put her clothes back on and leave, returning to her normal life, and fall back into her sex-driven routines and comfortability.

Her thoughts were cut off by the woman looking back up at her.

"Ah, you're here for that modeling gig. The special futanari show."

Victoria winced as this was spoken very loudly.

"Alright, well here's your guest pass," the receptionist slid a laminated badge across the desk, "and you can find the waiting room on floor thirteen."

Uttering a barely-audible 'thanks' Victoria grabbed the pass and stuffed it into her purse.

"Have a good day."

This time Victoria didn't bother to say anymore, and quickly sped past the desk towards the elevators. Calming herself was becoming increasingly difficult as she was surrounded by more beautiful looking people, a growing stream of models and agents coming out of the woodwork the deeper she headed into the building. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Victoria ignored the urgings coming from her groin, practically hyperventilating to keep herself focused. Once she reached the set of mechanical doors, she pressed on one of the buttons as fast as she could, practically bouncing on her toes as she waited for it to come back to the ground floor. It felt like an eternity before it did.

Entering the small, confined space, Victoria frowned as a few other people joined her inside of it. Standing near the panel with all the floors on it, she tried to give a polite smile as different numbers were said at her, most of the others not bothering to look up from their phones; her nostrils flared at the perceived impoliteness, but she once again steeled herself. The elevator moved at a snail's pace as it ascended floor after floor, several more people getting off and on as it did. The whole process was becoming almost unbearable for the futa, fidgeting in places with increased franticness, until it finally reached her floor. Stepping out of the steel prison quickly, she entered the next level of hell she was being forced through on this day.

The space she walked into was almost just as bad.

Lined against both walls was a multitude of chairs, almost every one occupied by a feminine looking figure. With just a quick glance, Victoria could see that they seemed to be of all ages, the youngest appearing to be barely out of high school, the oldest easily middle-aged at least; not only was there a large age range, but they seemed to come in all shapes and sizes. Some of the futanari, which Victoria took an educated guess at them all being, were thin little things, while others were tall and buff - some were even overweight. Clearly whoever was putting this whole thing together wasn't picky about the shape the participants were in, or was at least casting a wide net to get as many participants as they could. Before Victoria could be hit by another wave of anxiety by realizing what kind of people were seated around her, an assistant by the elevator doors addressed her.

"Hello, are you here for the Futanari Fashion Show interviews?"

Victoria almost winced again until she remembered the company that she was in, and turned towards the speaker of the question. It was a younger man this time, wearing a black turtleneck and tight jeans, his hair cut short in a side-swept manner. A large tablet was in hands, which he fiddled with as he spoke to her and leaned against the wall by the entrance to the hall. He looked like something out of chique fashion magazine, from his black-rimmed glasses to his polished shoes, which made sense considering where they were. Clearing her throat, Victoria grabbed her purse in preparation and mustered a response.

"Uh yeah I am. Do I need to sign in anywhere?"

"Just give me a name, please."

"Victoria, oh, uh, Victoria Meyer."

"Victoria..." he muttered under his breath, scrolling with his finger across the device's screen, "Ah, you're already on our list Ms. Meyer. Please take a seat and wait to be called."

Nodding at him, Victoria scanned over the crowd of waiting would-be models and found an empty seat. Placing her purse on her lap as she sat, she went back to inspecting the other futanari, realizing that she had never really known any others in her life - minus the doctor - and had, at least to her knowledge, never seen so many gathered in one place. Her eyes automatically went to their groins as she looked from person to person; some were dressed more modestly like she was, while many had their packages displayed prominently and proudly. Much like the people they were attached to, they too ranged in sizes. Much to Victoria's cocky delight, however, none of them would compare to the bulge that she would be showing off if she had a bit less shame about that part of her. This knowledge that she may have been the best, so to speak, futa amongst everyone here helped put her at ease about the whole thing.

There was something else that let her know she wasn't alone in her unique-genitalia situation: that smell. A kind of smelly smell. The smelly smell that smelled... smelly. Maybe it was because she was a futanari herself, but Victoria could pick up a distinct odor, the same one she seemed to emanate regardless of how much she cleaned herself. From what she had learned from that bimbo nurse, it was probably pheromones of some kind, and in this compact space with so many bodies giving them off at the same time, it was practically concentrated in its potency, a musk you could almost see. If she wasn't so used to it it might have awoken the arousal she was holding back, and she wondered for a moment how the non-futa in the area were dealing with it. Past experience told her it made this whole place ripe for a spontaneous orgy!

Accidentally catching the eye of one of the participants across from her, Victoria gave her a more focused once-over - futa or not, she was very pretty! Her blonde hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and it let her show off her smiling face unobstructed. Sparkling blue eyes and a toothy grin defined her features, she was also as pale as Victoria was. Her body was much smaller and modest than the futa's own, and Victoria almost sneered at the bulge she was packing in her tight jeans that ran down most of one of her thighs; imagine being proud of something so small, it didn't even reach her knees! It was clear this tiny blonde was checking her out as well, and Victoria resisted the urge to flex or lift her skirt a little to let the other futanari know just how outclassed she was.

And what if she did?

What if she just unfurled her junk from her shorts and let this other futa know how outmatched, outclassed she was by comparison? Show her that the cock she no doubt bragged about to any woman who would listen couldn't compare to her own? Display that she was the alpha in the room and that no one else could hold a candle to her? The small blonde would fall to her knees in worship, the rest of the futanari in the hall following suit; and those that didn't would just leave, knowing they were nothing next to her and that there wasn't anything they could do to stop her rampage. Surrounded on all sides by willing sluts who wanted to please her. Hands, mouths, holes all available to her exclusively. A bevy of new, unequal partners to add her to her ever growing list of on-call carnal outlets. And she wouldn't hesitate to take full advantage of them!

She'd start with all the ones cocky enough to show off their insignificant bulges in her presence. Making them line up first, she'd have them disrobe one by one and put her soft cock against their hard ones, showing how much more hung she was compared to each of them without even getting hard. Then she'd fuck them. Each and every single one that stuck around would feel her wrath for trying to even compete with her, and she'd plow them into submission until they realized how useless their pitiful little dicks were and that they were nothing more than holes for their betters to use. Victoria wouldn't stop until the whole hallway was flooded with cum and everyone was unconscious from pleasure, including the assistants and anyone else who walked in. Maybe if she still wasn't satisfied she'd head out into the lobby and teach that bitch secretary a lesson like she had fantasized about earlier...

Realizing she was turning herself on, Victoria stopped her thoughts in their tracks and grabbed at the sides of the chair as if to steady herself. Staring up towards the ceiling, she did her best to ignore the world around her as she waited for her name to be called, fighting back her urges yet again today. Would they ever stop? The blonde across from her suddenly hopped up as her name was called, drawing her attention. Victoria vaguely heard the name 'Ashley' spoken into the hallway as she did, and she cast an uninterested glance at the opened door where the interviews were apparently being held, noting that it looked like a regular office space from what she could tell, another hottie that worked here letting the futanari in. Almost just as quickly, the door closed behind the assistant and the futanari, and Victoria once again drifted off, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander as she waited for her turn.

Naturally her thoughts turned towards the future.

If she was being honest with herself, it wasn't something she gave much thought too. Maybe it was due to her youth or her lifestyle, but for now she was content to roam and fuck her way through the city to her heart's content, not feeling any immediate urge to try and make something of herself; she wasn't even really sure if she had dreams or goals currently. She was enrolled in college, technically, but Victoria couldn't remember the last time she set foot on the campus. Was she still considered a student? Probably not, now that she mulled it over - she hadn't ever bothered signing up for classes when the last semester started. Might be something to look into when she was done here.

But would it actually matter? What if... what if this whole modeling thing worked out? What if she became one of the first ever futanari models in the world and it changed her life? She'd never had any aspirations of fame or anything like that - not that she would necessarily mind being rich - but that could always change. Having an actual job, one where she was fawned over and catered to, might be a nice change of pace. Victoria had never worked a day in her life, but could modeling really be considered a real job? The people who did it were basically glorified mannequins, though she didn't find that line of work exactly unappealing the more she considered it.

She could see herself now. Waltzing down a catwalk, wearing clothes tailored specifically to her and for others just like her. The flashing of cameras as her beauty and elegance was captured. Journalists scribbling in their notebooks. Returning to her dressing room only to find a gaggle of admirers, assistants and other models outside of it, ones she could whisk away for a bit of fun. Being famous and loved meant she would have no issues finding new partners - not that she did right now - but it would mean they would come to her, rather than having to hunt for them like she currently did. Reporters, fans, people trying to woo her to wear their futanari-centric clothing. Life would be... better.

Okay, maybe the fantasy was a bit antiquated, but she still found herself spellbound by it!

Still, this kind of career would open many other doors for her. Acting, designing, becoming some kind of socialite or whatever they called it these days - the possibilities felt endless! The image of her dressed in expensive fabrics, walking down a runway, surrounded by the rich continued to flash through her brain. She hadn't even had the interview yet, but the whole thing felt so close she could almost taste it. Wealth, admiration, pleasure - all of it could be hers if she just didn't fuck this whole thing up! And perhaps, if it all did work out, she might be able to find out what was happening to her body...

"Victoria Meyer!"

Victoria had been totally ignorant to the passage of time, lost in her reverie; the calling of names, the stomping of feet and doors, and every other source of sound was completely blocked out by the chorus of cheers and music playing in her brain - that was until her own name was called. It barely registered to Victoria that someone was using her full name, so unused to hearing even her first name outside of cries and moans of pleasure. For a moment, she almost thought it was still part of her fantasy, only realizing after a full minute that the voice that had spoken it was far too loud and real in her ears for it to be coming from her own internal monologue.

Victoria bolted up with a start, almost dropping her purse.

"Uh hi, yes," she spoke out awkwardly, heading whipping around to re-find the door where the interviews were being held, "I'm here."

"I see that," the voice came from that stylishly dressed assistant holding a tablet that matched the person's at the elevator doors, "you can follow me. It's your turn."

Nodding her head, Victoria quickly made her way over, very aware that all eyes were on her from the other waiting futanari. She passed by the assistant, a lithe brunette, and entered the interview room. Pausing as she stepped in, she waited for the smartly-dressed girl to close the door behind her and lead her further in. It was a pretty standard office, filled with desks, filing cabinets and potted plants littered about the room - the only way it was unique was the modeling posters lining the walls. Victoria was led to a large desk where an older woman was sitting; the woman was wearing more casual but no less expensive-looking clothing, and her wrinkled eyes were scanning over a set of folders and papers in front of her, spinning a pen between her long fingers. Standing, waiting to be assessed like a piece of prime-cut meat, Victoria clutched her purse in front of her groin awkwardly.