A Shameful Gathering
The start was pathetic. I'd never heard the word futanari before. 'Better to chat with the other participants about this.' With no phone, there was no way I'd puzzle it out alone. I let it go in one ear and out the other, focusing on the broadcast instead.
> "It's Day 1, daytime. So follow the rules, put on your leggings, gather in the center, and yap away to your heart's content. Isn't that what you bitches are best at?"
Clunk. The door that had been silent following the arrogant announcement creaked open. 'Getting out first should let me gather the most info. About the game or the other players.' To be the first participant out, I quickly stripped off my skirt and changed into the prepared leggings.
"Huh?"
When I stood in front of the mirror to check, a massive sense of wrongness hit me. 'I definitely put these leggings on over my underwear.' But in the mirror, I was wearing skin-tight black pantyhose that clung to my skin, blatantly exposing the silhouette of my crotch. The sensation of panties was gone, and the shape and form of my genitals were fully visible. 'Like that male host's body. This must be some special tech too.' Staying calm despite the shock, I analyzed my lower half that looked utterly naked. The leggings were probably just packaging—same tech that let that mechanical-armed guy and the suspicious goggle-wearing women roam the streets unnoticed. 'The host called us "you four bitches," so all participants are women. No need to be embarrassed. Everyone's wearing crotch-exposing leggings anyway.' This was a changing room for women only. With that thought, I stepped out.
Outside, just as the broadcast said, seven chairs were evenly spaced around a large circular table. Each chair backed onto a participant's room. As the first out, I sat in the chair by the door. 'I'm number 2.' The numbers were preset on the table. In this analog wall-clock-like circular space, the numbers themselves didn't seem to mean much. Under the table was a terminal displaying numbers one through seven. All the gear for a classic mafia game was ready.
Screech. As I sat scanning my surroundings, someone emerged from another room. Our eyes met briefly despite the height difference, then she checked her number and sat in the chair ahead of her.
"I'm number 4, huh..."
Number 4 never covered her leggings once while sitting, her gaze locking onto me—the first to claim a seat.
Screech.
"What the hell, dressing like a whore...! Shouldn't have trusted that bastard!"
The next one came out covering with one hand, chewing on shame and humiliation at her desperate straits that had driven her to this game arena. She took seat 5, right next to 4.
After her, 3 and 6 sat too, cursing their exposed crotches in front of the others. Even with five seated, not a word passed. A heavy silence hung as they eyed each other warily.
Screech.
Next was 1. A woman who looked fairly middle-aged opened the door.
"Ugh..."
She shuffled out awkwardly, covering her crotch with both hands—the most ashamed of anyone so far.
"Auntie, you've probably spread your legs for your husband plenty. What's with the fuss? First time stripping in front of women?"
In this situation where everyone wore the same leggings, 3 mocked the middle-aged woman sniveling like a coward.
"E-Everyone's... dressed the same, right? Looks like it..."
Confirming everyone's lower halves visible under the table, 1 pulled out her chair with one hand and sat.
"Looking at her, she'll drop first."
"Fits her number."
The others piled on 1, whose shaky start set the wrong tone.
Screech.
Amid the mockery, the last one—7—appeared. Unlike 1, she covered her face with both hands and walked forward.
Thud.
"Ow!"
The self-blinded fool slammed into the wall. The mocking mouths gaped slightly at the overwhelming performance.
"Sh, seven... Lucky seven, though. I'm lucky...!"
Flustered, 7 rushed to her seat and checked her number, smiling at the meaningless digit.
"Looks like everyone's here now. Trash outfits, but... since we're gathered, let's chat."
The foul-mouthed 3 seized the mood first, steering toward introductions.
"Start with 1? Name, reason for joining, that stuff."
She tossed the turn to the first number.
"...Name's Hansora. I'm a parent to one child. I joined this game because after my husband died in an accident, money got tighter and tighter..."
Mic'd up, 1 hung her head and recited her tale up to the alleyway. She finished her intro with a gloomy expression. 'Family, huh...' Her goal of providing for remaining family mirrored mine in a way. No clue if it was true, but her face and tone rang honest.
"I'm here to earn medical bills."
I revealed only my goal, nothing about the amount or who I was.
"Hm, short. I'll pass~"
3, who'd started the talk, skipped her own intro.
"I'll pass too."
4.
"Nothing worth sharing."
"Same here."
5 and 6 hid their info too. Leaking details when allies or enemies sat unknown was risky.
"Everyone's holding back? I'm Kim Hanna... Reason for joining... I couldn't pay back living expense loans. About 15 million won on Hanpass... Thought I'd make bank here. Ahaha..."
Like handling everyone's dodged homework, 7 spilled everything.
"Prize is up to 100 million, right? Hope we all get it. Let's do our best!"
She capped it with a bright, fighting-spirit smile. 'If that's not an act, she'll drop first.' All eyes turned on the childish, naive-looking 7 with the same gaze.
"Anyway, mafia's hiding among us, right? Catch 'em and citizens win, probably."
5 summed up our plight, despite cursing her shameful outfit earlier.
"But, uh, futanari...? What's that?"
"Sounds like the mafia role."
"First time hearing it..."
It was a popular mafia game trend, but everyone but one seemed clueless on futanari.
"Futanari's that thing, right? Woman with a dick! Or is it cock?"
Amid the confusion, 7 piped up, spreading her knowledge.
"Futanari..."
"Woman with... a cock?"
"No way that's possible..."
"Eww... gross."
1, 3, 5, 6 couldn't shut their mouths.
"Woman with a man's dick... If it's those guys, maybe possible..."
4 muttered thoughtfully.
'Futanari: woman with male genitals...' If packing a guy's tool, spotting mafia was easy—just the one who couldn't drop trou. 'These special leggings hide the mafia's identity.' But participants' crotches were already on full display. Whatever was underneath, everyone looked like equal flashers. Even a dick would pass as pussy.
"Second rule seems for mafia. To hide who the futanari with the dick is."
One mafia, six citizens—I shared my deduction with all.
"No wonder the suspicious getup."
"I was mortified coming out, covered my face. Didn't know it hid that. No way I'd strip now..."
Just eyeing lower halves couldn't spot the futanari among citizens.
"Oh, anyone got pills?"
Grabbing the flow, I asked about pill possession next.
"Pills?"
"What? Woke up with my pockets cleaned out."
They stared blankly at my out-of-left-field question. Gulp.Flinch. Unprepared ones swallowed dryly or eyes twitched. Not certain, but maybe two...
"You'd have to have pills to ask. So 2, you got extras from the game arena?"
4 flipped it back at me. 'Leading question.' Suspicious eyes converged.
"Like the second rule forcing leggings, I figured the first rule's the same. The room pipes too—rules mean they'll enforce it."
I clarified it as simple reasoning to dodge mafia/suspicious job suspicions.
"Rules, futanari, bullshit—what the hell is all this?! We even get the prize if we win?"
"Kidnapping folks outta nowhere, shoving us in dickhead outfits. Just screwing over the hard workers?"
5 and 6 marveled at the beyond-normal game and tech. Everyone tacitly agreed.
"Hm."
4 assessed the situation.
"Actually, I'm a cop."
She revealed her real job, unsaid in intros.
"Cop...? Suddenly?"
"Well, mafia game—bound to have one."
"Then can you find the futanari with cop powers?"
Table thought it a game role.
"No, I'm a real cop. Tracked rising disappearances and rumors to join this game."
That explained why she felt different from other participants.
"All this is probably Asmo-Zeus' doing..."
The megacorp so vast, ruling the world alone wasn't exaggeration. If truly behind it, the unbelievable tech made sense.
"You as the cop..."
"Yeah. From the alley, I'll root out and eradicate these game-runners."
The cop's fierce gaze burned with resolve.
"So trust and follow me. No game's trustworthy anyway. I swear to return everyone to normal life."
She sought cooperation against the corp's tyranny—from those dragged into this game board. 'A cop who joined the game...' She looked legit, but would the kidnappers tolerate it?
"Vote yourselves this round. That's how we all win. Unvoted one's mafia."
Seizing control via her real job, the cop led us.
"Day one's too dumb to lynch anyway."
Beep.
"Cop says so, what choice?"
Beep.
Everyone punched their terminals without gripe. 'If she's taking point, no loss for me.'Beep. I quietly tapped 2—my number.
Flick!
"Whoa?!"
"Nighttime, huh..."
"Playing with us but kinda nice."
No executioner, so central lights dimmed. Everyone quietly returned to their leaking-light rooms.
Clunk.
Door auto-locked on entry. Citizens were confined to rooms overnight.
"A cop popping up outta nowhere..."
I perched on the bed, mulling the day.
"But not a game cop. Best citizens can do."
In this perfectly soundproof room—didn't know others existed till venturing out—I muttered to myself.
"Gotta find mafia first."
Core to mafia games, especially with huge prizes.
"Tonight should be safe, at least."
Mafia and futanari unknown, but my door wouldn't open. I killed time plotting next moves.
The night of the futanari—woman with a penis—passed.
> "Day 2, daytime. Have fun like yesterday."
Clunk.
Morning voice heralded day two.
"One's missing?"
"Actually slept through 'night'?"
"Feels like two hours passed. No clock, no way to know..."
Six at the central table. One door still open.
"That's... the cop's room, right?"
4's door—the one who'd boldly revealed herself—stayed silent.
"Said she'd handle it all herself, then catches a bullet overnight?"
5 grumbled, approaching 4's door.
"It's open, why not comi—"
Screech.
"Kyaaah!"
The cop resisting the megacorp lay in her room, a sight to rip screams from throats.