Futa Soccergirls (Futa/Male)

Story by archer15

Hello all, this is my first post on the boards. While not a new author overall, this is my first time at the futa genre. Please let me hear some feedback and hopefully I'll keep working on this (no promises, unfortunately, as I work in spats of activity).

A couple warnings. There us a fair amount of plot in part one as I want it to be a running story. As the story expands i do hope to expand to wilder and crazier things than just one futa and a male. There will occasions of dominance/rough sex (though not of the BDSM variety) with Futa, Male, or Female dominant. The only thing I can guarantee that you won't see, which you might on this board, is Futa/Futa (don't know why it just never made sense to me).

Alright, I hope you enjoy.

I sighed tiredly as I clicked the paused button on the remote. I glanced outside the small window and could see it was already dark outside. I had a stack of papers laying on the desk behind me and I had to get to them before I headed home. It didn't matter if it was a school night and I needed sleep, the reports needed to be filed or the soccer team wasn't going to be entered in the state tournament.

I got off the old couch and limped my way over to the desk. It was scattered with papers and information. The work wasn't hard, but it would be time consuming. I had information for all the girls on the team and I needed to transfer it to the appropriate forms. Again nothing difficult, but incredibly annoying. I was too young to be worrying about something like this, but I was the only real coach for the team.

I glanced back at the TV screen. It was a replay of the most recent game we had played. I had watched the tape a couple times already, studying our team and how they had performed. That was the part of the job I liked. Watching the team, seeing how they did, trying to improve. It was the paperwork that was annoying.

There was a stack of cds next to the TV. I had been watching the entire season, trying to convince myself if I did that work I wouldn't need to do what was on the desk. I had noticed something peculiar while rewatching all the action. At the moment the tape was paused on Karen, our lead striker. She had played well the entire season, but in the last few tapes there had been an unusual aggressiveness to her actions. She wasn't exactly playing better, at least not in a technical ball skill sense, but she was obviously putting more effort into what she was doing (which of course resulted in better results). On screen at the moment she was pushing her way past another girl, almost throwing her to the ground, as she tried to get to the ball.

Unlike male players, who often needed to be held back in sports, it was unusual to see a girl playing that rough. Not that they were wimps by any means, see a certain college girls game if you doubt me, but they usually didn't aggressively fight for the win. Karen had actually gotten a red card during the game for throwing an elbow into one girls face during an attempt to head the ball into the goal. She had claimed it had been an accident, but I had watched the play and she had looked pretty deliberate.

I heard a light knocking on the office door. “Come in.”

Karen opened the door as she stepped into the office. I had told her I wanted to see her before she went home for the night. While I wasn't exactly angry over her getting ejected, it was the first time it happened during the season and I was concerned something might be wrong with her.

“You wanted to see me, Tom?” she asked.

“That is Coach Tom, remember?” I corrected, though I had a good natured smile on my face when I said it.

“So, Coach Tom, have you managed to get the chemistry homework done for tomorrow?” she joked. I am both the girls coach and fellow student. I know that is an unusual situation, but it has been working out pretty well.

“That isn't why I called you in here,” I said not wanting to allow her to get me distracted.

She glanced over at the TV screen. Her tone changed, a heavy note of guilt being added in to her normally chipper voice. “You wanted to talk about the game.”

I began to move around the desk so I could grab the remote to show her what had happened. “Yes, I wanted to know why you ...” I was cut off as I felt my legs give out from under me.

Karen stepped forward, catching me before I hit the ground. “Tom! Are you alright?”

I nodded though I didn't meet her eyes. I hated moments like this. “Could you just put me in the chair?”

The chair was close by and all she needed to do was move me back a bit. I just sat in the chair saying nothing as I waited for the pain in my legs to die down. Karen looked on concerned but nothing needed to be said; she knew what was wrong with me. She knew I preferred if it wasn't brought up.

A few years ago I had been a different person. I was about half way through my sophomore year of high school. If you had asked me what my passio

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