The Futapolis Incident: Report 001

Here's a new story series that will hopefully replace the very dead A Futanari Fable storyline. This one is kind of a cross of a lot of different elements, but I think its hot, and I managed to bring it in at only twenty pages (a big deal for me). Downloadable files included as always. If you like this story, please comment or hit the thank button.

Click here to download:

http://www.megaporn.com/?d=CBBSD8DZ

http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=c888615d95957ffc1686155677bb2685d9fe0df9df622ea1

Password ::hardcover::

THE FUTAPOLIS

INCIDENT:

REPORT 001

By Hardcover

Open file

The following document is a first person account of the sequence of events commonly known as “The Futapolis Incident” in the area previously known as Los Angeles.

Enclosed documents are eyes only, anyone accessing must have G4 clearance or higher, all applicable laws apply.

Document as follows:

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MARK

I was born on the cold hard floor of a greasy spoon diner in downtown L.A. Actually that is an exaggeration, as I know now that I was born in Succasunna, New Jersey of all places in hospital that has since been torn down and turned into a parking lot. But, as far as I am concerned, and for all intents and purposes, my life began on the floor of the unassuming diner. Whatever had happened to me before in my life was immaterial, everything started for me on that dull, scruffy, well traveled tile floor.

I awoke slowly, gently fading into consciousness as I came too. I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten there, just a vague reaction to the sound of music of some kind playing somewhere near me. I struggled through the haze and my mind began to awake from its slumber. It took a while for me to float out of my sleep and bring myself into a drug like stupor before finally managing to get my eyes open. The music continued and I took in what I saw: Tables and chairs and booths in the back, and the dirty floor of black and white tiles just under my eyes.

I struggled to my feet, completely delirious, my legs feeling like rubber. I looked around myself at the rest of the diner. I seemed to be the only one there. The tables and booths were all empty, and I saw no waitress behind the counter nor a cook in the kitchen beyond. I didn’t recognize the place at all, looking around; I tried to spot anything familiar, something that would remind me how I came to be here. Nothing seemed familiar.

I looked towards the front window, one of those huge panes of glass next to the door that looked out onto the street outside. A thick fog rolled by, obscuring the view.

I tried to remember how I had come to be on the floor in this restaurant, but nothing came forward. I tried to think of what was the last thing I r