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I woke up today. I woke up. The egg is waking up.

I've been an egg for too long.

Still going to be an egg.

This is a blog about being that egg.

What's the name?

Futabot represents this egg state: a program emulating the futanari thing.

But I'm not supposed to be waking up like this. It is several years too late. I'm old; almost out of my thirties. I took a picture of myself in portait mode and gasped at the distending gut, skinny arms, and twiggy legs. Jobless but full of friends, yet dangerously isolated. I hang out when asked, but never ask to hang out.

Formative moment: A friend showed me a video of a friend. Her body, perfect: trim, abs, boucing, smiling. Especially smiling.

Introducing myself: I am Futabot. The name originates from a tongue-in-cheek inside joke about my sexual awakening in college:

This might be a little controversial, but the fetish-tag guided me to the right places, the right people.

Guys - Friendly, laughing it off. Not much depth to interactions. Nobody wanted to talk about how exciting it was. A cool, weird name with an inside joke embedded inside. Girls - The name is weird, intrusive, but honest about the strangeness. Skeptical of its intent.

Long story short, it's a name I discarded for a while, but it's been my identity forever. I've overcome some hurdles: my voice is salvagably female after spending an entire covid year living in VRChat with the quest2 mic pumping back into my ears. It's breathy, shrill, but passes, but it's my only skill. My body is lacking in every way, ugly to every gender, and rapidly slipping into simply disgusting. I'm going to fix it, but I feel like I need this blog to start it.

Anyway, that's it for now, I'm half awake and I'm not gonna' make it!