Topic: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Source: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/u … e-Re-Write

A fantastically written, continuing story by Tosaku no Kishi involving a girl and a notebook.

Despite the primary focus on futanari TF, this gets a sticky for the sheer quality of writing and for the fun I had in reading it. There's no bizarre TF in the traditional sense of what qualifies as bizarre TF here on the forums until chapter 22, but the conditions tied to the TFs starting in chapters 6 and 12 are interesting enough on their own. I recommend against spoiling yourself.

Support the author at https://www.patreon.com/tosaku/posts/ and get early access to new story chapters!

futanari TF
chapter 6 spoiler (highlight to reveal): semi-exhibitionism - unable to wear concealing clothing
chapter 12 spoiler (highlight to reveal): height/size alteration, macro/microphilia
chapter 22 spoiler (highlight to reveal): dicknipples


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 1 - The Futa Note

Carmen Robins closed her notebook at the toll of yet another final bell. She inhaled and released, going over everything that had been covered that day as quickly as she could, before she rose from her seat. It grated against the floor in amongst the dozen others, many of whom chatted excitedly amongst themselves and many others who, like Carmen, calmly made their way from the classroom. The hallways always seemed different after a lesson, freeing in a way. Despite being trapped in the same institute and crowded by over a hundred students.

Carmen took a deep breath as she stepped outside. The air was calm, only a light, almost indistinguishable, breeze blew in from the north and brought with it the icy bite of winter. Grey-white clouds hovered overhead, blanketing the Earth below from the sun’s warm glow. A single oak tree stood sentry over the pathway exiting the school grounds, its branches barren of life to resemble the crooked fingers of a fairy tale witch. The pavement below was cracked and the grass clearly untended to.

Such a shame, Carmen thought with a sigh as she studied Saint Puella’s wasted campus. The school had once been a beacon of sorts, a public school with a dedication to helping girls learn, achieve and become anything they wanted to be. But poor decision after poor decision led to its rapid decline. If Carmen had to estimate its lifespan, the institute had perhaps one more year before being shut down.

With one final savouring inhale of the crisp air, Carmen resumed her path out of the campus grounds. She passed a group of girls huddled together, all wearing thick, expensive coats to hamper the creeping cold’s efforts. They ignored her and she did the same, but couldn’t quell the jealous disgust she felt towards them. Chilling slices of cold nipped at her skin through her lone jacket, one made for summer, and through her itchy sweater. Beggars simply can’t be choosers.

And nowhere was that truer than for Carmen.

“Where do you need me?” She inquired upon stepping into the staff room of her part-time job at a local coffee shop, Soothe the Soul. Its owner was a bona fide coffee lover, drinking and brewing the beverage for decades, and firmly believed that it soothed even the most tumultuous feelings. Carmen would refute this were it not for the evidence that stared her in the face every day.

“Oh, Carmen, glad you’re here. Could you handle the till? Monica got sick again so I’m sort of doing everything here,” Stacy smiled and shrugged, handing a customer his change and rushing to brew his cup. Not once, in her two years working there, had Carmen seen her expression turn sour. Even when unruly patrons made a mess or demanded compensation for their own faults. Stacy would always handle the situation with a calm, jovial smile on her well-rounded face.

“No problem,” Carmen nodded and put on her apron, relieving her boss of her unreasonable duty. A twinge of annoyance clouded Carmen’s features when she thought of Monica, her co-worker in name only, as she rarely showed up or did the work required of her. But Stacy was simply too kind to let her go, even with Carmen’s logical explanations as to why Monica was a liability; she sleeps on the job, doesn’t handle customers well, likes to sample the product in blatant view of patrons. The list could go on and on.

The job wasn’t even difficult compared to most. Talk with paying customers to build a repertoire, earn tips, sell coffee, and make sure everything ran smoothly. Perhaps it was simply Carmen’s nature to excel, but she found her job peaceful in a way. It seemed to be one of the few escapes from the pressures of school and an energy laden little sister.

The hours ticked by with a regular stream of customers. Soothe the Soul had more than earned its spot on the street, amongst the convenience stores, cafes and bistros and all other sorts of establishments, over the years. A small store with just a few tables, free wi-fi, delicate cups of caffeinated drinks and a charismatic owner was all it took to earn a loyal fanbase among locals. Carmen included herself in that distinction, though she mostly came for the free internet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Carmen called back as she left for the day, waving to the kindly owner still sweeping along the floors.

“Keep working hard,” Stacy replied with her usually disarming smile and a nod of her head.

“Always am,” Carmen said with an exaggerated groan, earning a small laugh as she stepped out onto the streets. The sun had long since set and the winter night sent rampant chills down Carmen’s spine, as gusts of frigid air bombarded her. Carmen zipped up her jacket as best she could to hide from the chill and hurried back home. What she wouldn’t give for a car sometimes.

Despite the chill, or possibly to spite it, Carmen enjoyed the walk home. The streets of New York at night are heralded as hazardous, and no such claims were entirely without merit, however they also held some intriguing spectacles. Especially just a couple of weeks before Christmas came.

She could see festive lights through curtains on several floors in several buildings. The distinctive styles and decorations to celebrate either Christmas or other religions were always fascinating, if only to reaffirm how divided the human race really was. Some people could see eye to eye on many subjects, but never would a day come that all of humanity would be united.

Carmen sighed and hastened her pace. She had a bad habit of over analysing humanity, herself included.

“I’m home!” Carmen announced and shut the door to her family’s tiny, one-bedroom apartment. It was a depressing place, with creaking floorboards, cracked walls – poorly concealed by peeling wallpaper – and a penchant for letting the arguments of their neighbours in all directions through the walls. Yet, even in such a dingy residence, there was a bright star of joy that eroded the misery. Said star came bounding toward Carmen.

“Carmen, Carmen! Come see what I drew!” Melody cried in glee, wrapping her older sister in a hug fit for bears. Carmen made a show of grunting and struggling to extract herself from her sibling’s grip.

“Okay, okay,” Carmen gasped, “Just let up on the hug, Supergirl.” Melody giggled and loosed her embrace.

“Come on!” Melody beamed and took hold of Carmen’s hand before she could fully kick off her shoes, “See?!” Melody grinned excitedly when she and Carmen were in their room, holding up a crudely drawn image of what looked to be a horse with a woman on top, reading a book.

“Wow!” Carmen took the picture, “Is that me?” She asked, pointing to the rider.

“No, that’s me when I’m older. You’re, hmm,” Melody scavenged around for another drawing, flicking papers onto the floor haphazardly, “Here!” She handed a new picture to Carmen, this time with just a person, but also with a lot more care put into the work.

The older sibling was briefly at a loss for words. It was actually good, not just by the lowered standards of a child, but genuinely decent. Carmen didn’t have a particular eye for artistic talent, however she knew Melody had a future.

“That’s amazing,” Carmen fully echoed her sister’s jubilant smile, “Can I keep it?” Melody nodded excitedly, always eager to please after a compliment of such high regard, “Thanks, Supergirl.”

“I wish,” Melody giggled, “Then I’d be smart and strong like you.”

Carmen chuckled as she plucked a bit of blue tack from a pile and adhered the picture to her side of the room’s wall, amidst the other drawings Melody had granted her over the years, “Smart, yeah. Strong, hmm, I’m not so sure.”

“You are strong,” Melody said with conviction, “And I can prove it. Lift this,” she handed her sister another piece of paper and quickly scribbled ‘1 billion kilos’ on it.

Carmen smirked and pretended to struggle with the ‘massive’ weight, only to succeed and hold it over her head, “What do you know? I guess I am strong.”

“Told ya so,” Melody giggled.

Carmen echoed the sound as she sat at her battered desk. Chips of wood had been taken out of it and scratches, both deep and shallow, lined the surface. There had once been several crude drawings drawn and etched into the material, before Carmen had covered them up to spare Melody such horrendous influences. Now it served as her paltry excuse for a workstation.

Melody copied her sibling from across the room. She grabbed a wooden board and laid it on her lap, paper and pen at the ready, watching Carmen for an unspoken cue to begin working. Carmen placed her notebook on her desk and grabbed a pen, checked its ink, then poised it to be begin. The sisters glanced at one another. Then, in an imperceptible agreement, went into action.

They shared the only bedroom. Single beds sat not two feet from the other, identical were it not for the few stuffed toys that decorated Melody’s, or the desk that sat at the foot of Carmen’s. Drawings adorned the walls, varying in their level of ability, though all of the best graced Carmen’s side. Their mother slept in the main room on their poor excuse of a couch, but never complained of the discomfort it brought her. Not when she thought they might hear anyway.

Carmen’s pen froze for a second as she tried to push these thoughts from her mind. She couldn’t solve the problems by dwelling on them like this. They would only further get in the way of the solution; be the best and find a job that would pay for them all to live in comfort. Her mother deserved it and Melody had no reason not to have every advantage that other girls had. Carmen returned her attention back to studying.

Only a few more years and she’d be able to solve all of their problems. First step was a scholarship and the next was to ace her college courses, with as many majors in the most the lucrative fields as was possible. Life would fall into place after that, so long as she stayed the course.

“Carry the one… no, that’s not right. Maybe…”

Melody had grown up listening to her sister mumble when concentrating and simply ignored it. It was the least she could do, since Carmen was ignoring the fact that she should be doing her homework. She glanced up at her sibling regularly, wanting to get her likeness as best she could.

Carmen was, in Melody’s eyes, one of the prettiest women she had seen. Her sister didn’t see it, however, and with good reason. Her lips weren’t very full or colourful, her cheeks were a little too rounded for her face and her chin length sandy=blonde hair was often a mess. Carmen didn’t have a particularly high opinion of her body either, saying that she didn’t have any curves. And yet, for all her negative self-perceptions, Melody still admired her sister for all her aspects.

She could only hope to be like her when she grew up. Melody settled for trying to capture her on paper for now, never wearying of drawing her sibling.

Alicia Robins walked in two hours after Carmen. She quickly checked up on her daughters, finding them hard at work with their respective work. Though Melody was probably neglecting her homework again, she silently amended with a small shake of her head as she watched her youngest draw intently.

“Did you eat yet?” Alicia inquired from the crooked doorway, smiling wearily at the two.

“Huh? Oh, uh… no, I lost track of time,” Carmen flushed, “Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders and looked up at her mother in embarrassment. Alicia wore her age well, maintaining her matronly beauty despite the stresses of her life. Her hair had lightened from its former deep brown to a light, chestnut colour. She had a skinny upper body, but shapely hips that befitted a mother of two. Her weary eyes still found the energy to brighten.

Alicia chuckled, “Don’t worry. I picked up some grub from work, there’s enough for everyone,” she held up a bag from McDonalds, her evening job. It was far from her proudest place to work, but far better than where she might’ve ended up. And it didn’t require her to work any later than ten o’clock, “Better hurry, before I eat it all up!” Alicia teased as she headed to the cramped kitchen.

Melody and Carmen followed her. Rather, their stomachs pulled them along like two disobedient children. Alicia rationed out the food, biasing toward her children, though Carmen quickly gave up a portion of hers.

“You’ve got work in eight hours,” Carmen stated, her expression offering no quarter for arguments. Her mother worked two jobs, though neither paid well enough to live a better life. Her first job as a secretary to a failing law firm was tentative at best, though her position at McDonald’s was at least secure. If only because so few people wanted to do the work. Her days were completely full. After her morning job, she came home to make sure Melody was taken care of after school, and then she was off to work again.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” Alicia smiled and they all tucked in. Carmen sat on the floor between her family as they watched old VHSs on their tiny tv. No one would call it a good life, barely acceptable even, however happiness could be found without money. Carmen paid no mind to the uncomfortable floor below her, instead she focused on the intangible warmth of her mother and sister.

Few things could compare to such a sensation. Not in Carmen’s mind.

The next day, Carmen repeated the same process as all prior days and weeks. Wake up, use the bathroom, eat breakfast, brush her teeth, make sure Melody was ready on time, and then head to school for the day. Saint Puella was practically empty in the mornings, many of the students preferring to cut it close rather than be cooped up for a minute longer than they needed to be. Carmen enjoyed those brief moments of tranquillity.

In the summer, she could sit in the shade of the oak tree and doodle or study in near absolute peace. Winters forced her from such a perch, however the library was more than adequate. A separate building from the main school, large and gothic in design, saturated with books and oaken shelves. Yet it was often empty.

Carmen grinned as she took one of the many seats available to her. If the school’s management paid attention to much of anything related to the school, they would have closed the library long ago. It was to her fortune that they hadn’t yet, as it gave her a perfect place to be alone with her thoughts. The only person around beside herself was the librarian, who often chose to bury her face in her phone from the lack of interactivity. Carmen almost envied her for such a simplistic job.

There was almost an hour before classes began for the day, giving her ample time to browse around and take in the vast array of novels. Carmen ran her finger along a shelf, eying every book her skin brushed against, before coming to a stop with a sigh.

“Nothing,” she went to move onto the next shelf, but stopped and yelped in shock as something landed on her head, “What the hell?” Carmen groaned, rubbing the part of her that had been struck. She then looked down and saw a thin, black book lying on the ground. The back was plain and unassuming. Not even a barcode. Carmen frowned and crouched down to pick it up. She turned it over.

“Futa Note,” she read aloud and arched an incredulous eyebrow. There was no author. Carmen flipped it open to the centre and chuckled. Empty. Nothing but lines. No words or numbers or… anything. Carmen rolled through the pages, until she came to the back where she finally found something written down.

“Rules of the Futa Note,” Carmen continued, unable to resist smiling at the strangeness of it all, “Rule #1; The person whose name is written in this notebook, will become a futanari. The person’s name and face must be in the mind of the writer at the time,” Carmen frowned, “The hell’s a futanari?” As if in response to her query, Carmen’s eyes zeroed in on the details listed below the rule.

“Forty seconds are permitted for further details to be given, minor details only, e.g. ten inches long, four inches thick. After this the writer has six minutes forty seconds to further describe the changes, as long as the victim retains both sexes and is visibly feminine. If details are not given the victim will grow a twelve-inch-long, three-inch-thick phallus with balls three inches in diameter. Changes are not limited to physical bodies. Transformations can be erased, but must be rewritten within five minutes or the erased entry will return with randomised additions. Names cannot be removed except by a Seikogami…”

“So, a futanari is someone with both sexes, but looks female? Who the hell came up with something like that?” Carmen stifled a laugh at the concept. She looked around to put the book away.

“See? What’d I tell you?!” Carmen jumped at the loud voice that announced its entrance, followed by the obnoxious footsteps of what could only belong to teenagers wearing high heels.

“Holy crap, this place is huge!”

“And for nerds. Dakota, why’d you even bring us here?”

“It’s empty. Seriously, there’s never anyone in here,” a voice that must’ve belonged to Dakota replied.

“But it’s so nerdy!”

They were all so similar and yet distinct. One was plaintive, like the whining of a small child. Another had a hint of over eagerness, akin to Melody when she was trying to win Carmen’s approval. A third was airy and bordered on the archetypal bimbo voice, but had a slightly too hard an edge to it. Others sifted through, all variations on those that came before.

“Yeah, but it’s empty. I bet we could get a few guys in here if we wanted,” the one that was probably Dakota spoke up again. Carmen frowned and peeked around a bookshelf, seeing a group of girls dressed in the school’s uniform. One walked ahead of the rest, a blonde with breasts way too large and round and perky to be natural. Behind her a pair of brunettes and another blonde followed. Another pair, one tall, tan and athletically built and the other petite in every sense of the word with crimson hair, trailed behind the rest.

Carmen sighed and hurried back to her chair before they could notice her. But, of course, she was seen just as she slid the book into her bag.

“I told you this is a place for nerds,” their leader said with a sneer aimed at Carmen, who ignored the remark and pulled her jacket on.

“Isn’t she that honour student?” The other blonde inquired.

“Oh yeah,” their leader’s face split into a predatory smirk, “What’s your name, honour student?”

“Carmen,” the honour student answered with a disdainful glance.

“Well, Carmen, how long do you spend here?” Carmen didn’t give her an answer, “No, you’re right. It’s a rhetorical question. You’re probably here 24/7, right?” The leader giggled, joined by her lackeys. Carmen bit back her reply and continued toward the exit.

“Don’t go just yet,” a brunette said and stepped into her path. Her voice was undoubtedly Dakota’s, the one who supposedly discovered the nearly abandoned library, “Ashley could use some help with… well, just about everything, right, Ash?”

“Shut up,” the other blonde, Ashley, snapped with a fierce blush on her cheeks. Carmen recognised her now; she was easily the richest girl at the school, more than capable of going to any private institute in the country. Though she was known for lacking any real intellect. Rumours said that she was there simply because it was cheap to bribe the teachers for good grades.

“Shut it, both of you,” the second brunette snarled. Her tone was easily the most intimidating of the group, with a harsh, commanding edge to it, “Though Dakota made a good point,” she continued, “Maybe we could use a little tutoring? That way poor Ashley wouldn’t have to pay everyone off for us.”

“I-It’s no problem, really,” Ashley spoke up, exchanging her usually whiny pitch for Dakota’s overeager one. Carmen didn’t need to spend another second there to know the dynamics of their group.

“Well, it’s up to Mary anyway,” the second-in-command brunette said and looked to the blonde, who had been standing quietly and watching them with a bemused grin. Carmen almost called her out for being such an obvious villain.

“Don’t care,” Mary sighed with a flippant wave of her hand, “We’ve got class in, like, twenty minutes anyway. Don’t want to keep miss honour student from her precious learning,” she said, voice ripe with her dubious intentions. Carmen didn’t care to find out what her plans were and stepped past Dakota, but found the tan athlete in her way.

They were taller than she had expected, towering over her five-foot eight inches. Carmen scowled up at her and caught a hint of hesitation in her face, which she gladly took and slid past.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry. I’ll g-get her right away,” the athlete stammered and turned to pursue Carmen, who was already near the exit.

“Don’t bother, Zoey,” the petite redhead sighed as the doors opened and shut.

Carmen sat under the lifeless oak tree with the supposed magic notebook on her lap. If it really worked, then it could ruin lives. It’d make those affected freaks in their own eyes and most likely to anyone else who knew. Carmen bit her lip and shivered, both from the icy air and at the thought of having that kind of power.

“It’s fake,” she muttered under her breath and went to close it, but paused. There was still time to burn before classes, she noted with a glance at her cheap, knock-off watch. Carmen sighed and opened it to the back.

“Rule #2…”

“Well, for something so fake someone put a lot of work into it,” Carmen mumbled after reading through all twelve rules. And yet she couldn’t deny the temptation such a thing held to her. The rules stated that she could live for centuries and even control those she victimised with the book. At the expense of irreversibly mutating their bodies.

“Forty seconds for someone to become a freak,” Carmen mused under her breath, watching as the words seemed to rise into the air. She glanced to the library, one of her former sanctuaries away from humanity. Dakota had ruined that, however. It was clear that those girls didn’t intend to vacate the premises anytime soon and certainly not because Carmen wanted them to. If anyone deserves to be a freak, it’s one of them.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Carmen groaned, almost angry at herself as she stood and headed back to the library. She silently opened its doors and crept inside. Voices echoed through the vast, almost lifeless space. Carmen eventually came to a stop behind a pillar supporting the upper floors as she spied the group of girls. They were sat around a table, several of their feet propped up, phones out and music blaring, while drinks sat on the expensive furnishing. Carmen glared at them and zeroed in on Dakota.

“It’s fake,” Carmen mouthed the words and repeated them over in her mind. She carefully pulled the notebook from her bag and uncapped a pen. She kept her gaze firmly on Dakota, ignoring the other girls as they laughed together at crude joke after crude joke.

Carmen knew all of them. It was hard, impossible even, not to know their names. Everyone avoided them like the plague if possible, however enough had crossed their paths that their names were common knowledge. Mary Thomas, Ashley Campbell, Gretchen Blake, Dakota Weiss, Zoey Parker and Rachel Adams. Though the last two were only technically a part of the group, having never been seen acting nearly as cruel or sycophantic toward Mary as the rest.

Carmen wrote her target’s name in neat, practised cursive; Dakota Weiss. She gave no specifics and set the book down, then fixed her gaze on her watch. Forty seconds ticked by at a tortuously slow rate. When the time had elapsed, Carmen raised her eyes and fixed her gaze on Dakota’s crotch, watching for any sign of a change.

The brunette clearly had no qualms with showing off her underwear beneath her skirt as she sat with her legs spread far apart. Carmen felt her face burn when she saw that she could make out Dakota’s genitalia through her thin panties, however the heat quickly gave way to absolute shock as she watched the garments bulge obscenely. A sharp yelp cut through the laughter as Dakota no doubt noticed what was happening.

“It’s real…” Carmen mumbled and picked up the book, finding text that she hadn’t written below Dakota’s name; grows a 12’’ long 3’’ thick phallus with testicles 3’’ in diameter each.

“Um, sorry. I gotta use the bathroom,” Dakota excused herself hurriedly, all but running to the restroom. Carmen stared after her in disbelief at what had just transpired.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” Dakota whispered in a panic as she scoured the library for a bathroom. Her crotch felt so heavy and her panties were full, like someone had stuffed a pair of tennis balls inside. Amidst the odd, bulbous weight, she also felt something equally alarming; arousal. There was no mistaking it. She had felt it time and time again with her boyfriends, the hot ones at least. The familiar heat had seemed to lick across her skin, setting light to her nerves. But now it was so intense. It was like her senses had been asleep all those times before.

And then there was that weird sensation between her thighs. She recognised it, yet still she couldn’t identify just what it was. Dakota lengthened her strides in search of the bathroom, only to wince as she felt her thighs pinch something. She slowed and almost flipped her skirt to see just what was happening, but stopped as another surge of arousal flared through her. Her fingers twitched in desire.

Dakota clenched her jaw in concentration and hurried along. The sound of her heels clicking along the hardwood floors seemed to grow louder with every step she took, as though her senses were tied to her burgeoning arousal. Her face felt hot and her pussy practically itched. She clenched her hands into fists as her breaths grew heavier. She finally saw the restrooms come into view just as her will power threatened to give out.

Carmen sat behind the pillar, staring down at the Futa Note in disbelief. She almost failed to notice how uncomfortably hot she felt, like she was beside a roaring fire dressed in her thickest clothes, such was her shock. After several deep breaths, Carmen managed to fully regain her composure. The notebook seemed real. It was hard to imagine that such a spontaneous mutation could occur at such a coincidental moment.

Carmen took another breath to soothe herself. She had to make sure. She looked around the column blocking her from the girls’ sight, however she shook her head at the idea of using it on another one of them. If someone found this book after multiple people started acting strange, there would be no way to pass it off as a coincidence. Then again, Carmen recalled the fourth rule, which said she could alter its effects on those who touched it.

“Alright then,” Carmen mumbled and flipped to the back. She found a pencil eraser and, to her surprise, it worked on the words, but only to the point that she could write what she intended. It’s getting harder to think this is just a hoax, Carmen mentally muttered as she added her own flare to the book, “Anyone who touches this notebook will gradually fall in love with Carmen and will not tell anyone about this book unless permitted by Carmen... I can’t I believe I just wrote that.”

Before her inhibitions could catch up to her, Carmen flipped back to the front page, where Dakota’s name and transformation remained. She didn’t hesitate, refusing to allow any form of worry to mar her curiosity, and erased the transformation, before changing it. The book did say that she could erase a transformation and rewrite it within five minutes. She could only assume that the other rules applied.

“Okay… dial it back a bit,” Carmen mumbled to herself, “Will this work? No harm in trying… nothing serious… okay,” Carmen eventually exhaled and closed the notebook, for fear that she would lose her nerve. She stood and headed into the school building; classes started in two minutes.

Dakota clamped both of her hands over her mouth in terror as she stared down at herself. What was this? What the fuck happened? Why did she have a cock? A huge one at that. Despite herself, Dakota couldn’t deny that it was impressive to say the least. Long, thick and coated in visibly throbbing veins. If she had seen such a sight on a guy, Dakota had no doubt that she would be all but begging for a go at it.

Even so, she couldn’t quell the sensual heat that pervaded her lower body. This was insane, horrifying even, and yet Dakota felt so aroused. The cock stood at full mast, like a pillar of masculinity despite the svelte figure it was attached to. It was even slightly darker tanned than the rest of her, as though she’d had it all her life. Dakota bit her lip and reached down. She had to know if this was real.

Her fingers hovered just an inch over the phallus. She couldn’t help but lick her lips, unable to silence the hungry curiosity that enveloped her thoughts. Dakota curled her fingers around the head and gasped in shock at the alien sensation of it. The feeling was eerily similar to her clit, but so much bigger and, thusly, better. Just as she was about to squeeze, the sensations suddenly vanished.

“What…?” Dakota gasped, only for her eyes to grow wide in horror as she realised the disappointment she felt. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she noticed that the… her cock was gone. Disappeared without a trace, “The hell’s going on today?” Dakota groaned and went to pull up her skirt and underwear, only to freeze in place as a creepily familiar sensation returned.

“Not again,” she gasped and straightened up as warmth flooded her senses once more. Dakota’s eyes fixed on her naked crotch and watched, in abhorrent fascination, as a cock sprouted from her flesh. It finished sooner than before and was definitely several inches smaller than the last time, thinner too. Worry filtered through her mind as she found herself incapable of feeling glad that it was no longer ridiculously huge. At least it was still pretty sizable.

Dakota reached down and grabbed it just as she had before. The sensations were the same as before, if not greater due to the more concentrated nerve endings. A moan slipped past her lips without permission.

“This is fucking crazy,” Dakota breathed, feeling her face grow hot and her breaths turn fast and shallow. Temptation stormed in her mind, urging her to explore this insanity. And she was utterly powerless to resist as her hand gripped her new shaft. She moaned in the back of her throat and brought her shaky hand up her new prick, brushing her sensitive underside to rip another groan of pleasure from her.

Before she could further lose herself to the sensations, Dakota turned frigid. The world around her dimmed, as though she were looking through a set of binoculars without any magnification. No thoughts entered her mind, not even worry or fear of what was happening.

Then, as sudden as her vision dulled, everything returned to normal. Dakota blinked and looked around, seeing the cock had gone flaccid. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, before reaching down to redress herself.

“This day can’t get any more fucked up,” Dakota grumbled, stood and exited the bathroom. She adjusted her walk to retain comfort. It was an odd, yet somehow enjoyable, sensation to have her cock and balls shifting about with each of her steps. She took a deep breath and adjusted her skirt to make sure no one could tell what had become of her precious vagina. As she joined her friends, Dakota caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked to the exit and caught a glimpse of that nerd who left earlier.

She has a pretty nice ass, Dakota thought, then shook her head at the mere idea. Her day could get weirder evidently.

Carmen couldn’t focus on her lessons. Her notebook, the regular kind, laid out in front of her with a pen poised to write on its pages. Yet she found her attention divided between the chalkboard and the brunette sycophant of Mary’s that sat only a few seats away. Carmen had never spared so much as a glance for the girl, but now it was all she could do not to stare at her.

Dakota didn’t seem to be acting very differently. She was quieter, only chatting in hushed to tones to her neighbours, rather than disrupting the lesson as she often would. Not that anyone really minded when she did. The teacher would only continue to prattle despondently regardless and students were all too happy to go on their phones or doodle in their books. Carmen, herself, wasn’t bothered either as she still took notes.

If it wasn’t Dakota, then it was Mary or Gretchen. Ashley, Rachel and Zoey rarely acted out on their own. None of that was important at that moment, Carmen reminded herself and reoriented her focus back to the present. Dakota had yet to make any distinctly new movements, except for the position of her legs they never opened. Not far enough for anyone to peek at her underwear at least.

That was almost enough to confirm that it had worked as Carmen intended. She still needed more proof, however, which would come at the ring of the lunch bell if the book was real. Until then, Carmen mentally psyched herself, she would focus on her school work. There was no sense in sacrificing her exceptional grade point average just to continue sating her curiosity.

The bell for lunch break rang. Famished students rose and quickly filed out, either heading off campus or to the cafeteria. Their voices mingled together in a sea of noisy conversation, snippets of their topics swimming along the air to those who took a moment to listen. Teachers and students alike walked off school grounds, the former unfazed by the rule breaking, so long as their pupils came back alive, preferably unharmed.

Before long, only two people were left in the classroom; Dakota and Carmen. The tan brunette stood and left, walking as though in a trance. Carmen soon followed, stalking her classmate with an inane curiosity as to where she would go. Though the honour student knew where, so long as her new power was heeded. Dakota turned and headed into a vacant restroom. Carmen entered as well and walked over to the last stall in the room, finding Dakota sat on the toilet and her face blank.

Carmen gulped in amazement, “Raise your left hand,” she ordered hesitantly, eyes growing wide as Dakota followed the command without hesitation, “Lower it.” Dakota did as she was told.

Excitement at the possibilities set Carmen’s heart galloping. She could take over entire countries, no, continents with this kind of power. A name and face was all it took. Even if she didn’t want that level of responsibility, she could guarantee her family’s well-being. No more financial woes or worrying whether they could eat the next day. She wouldn’t have to worry about school or finding success. It’d just come to her with a few words.

“Stop it!” Carmen shouted aloud and took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling roughly as if to expel those thoughts. Life isn’t meant to be easy. Difficulties are what make it worth doing. If she had everything handed to her, then what would she become? What would Melody become?

When she was certain such ideas would remain locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind, Carmen returned her attention to Dakota, who hadn’t moved an inch during the honour student’s tumultuous reverie.

She took one more breath, “Take off all of your clothes below the waist,” Carmen ordered. This was how she would absolutely confirm the Futa Note’s abilities. There was still a chance, after all, that Dakota had been hypnotised or was pranking Carmen. The half-German didn’t show any emotion as she stood and undid her school skirt, revealing her massively bulging underwear to Carmen. Dakota then repeated the action on her panties, putting her new member out in the open.

Carmen recoiled at the sight of such an appendage jutted perversely from the tanned girl’s crotch. It looked completely out of place there. Thick veins riddled its dark toned surface – near-perfect match for Dakota’s bronze skin – and beautifully juxtaposed the smooth, feminine crotch and hips around it. The balls were equally as obtuse, contained in a wrinkly sack. And yet, for how out of place it all looked, there were no signs that Dakota had ever been without any of it.

“Incredible,” Carmen breathed in awe at such a strangely pristine view. Then she remembered her objective; confirm the notebook’s effects, “Show me your pussy,” she added. Her breath hitched as Dakota obeyed, turning around and bending over to put her perfectly shaven snatch on display. Carmen couldn’t help but lick her lips as she took in the girl’s pert ass cheeks, the light bronze colour of her back running unbroken onto her rear. She sunbathes naked, Carmen noted and felt her own body flush with arousal.

“Stop it,” Carmen snapped at herself, however the sensations wouldn’t leave her. This sensation of heat was so familiar, yet strange to her, like an old friend that she had known all her life, but hadn’t seen in ages. It was the same, and yet somehow fresh. A faint groan rumbled in her chest as her hands betrayed her and cupped her breasts, “Leave,” she quickly dictated. Dakota didn’t bother to put on her skirt or panties and went to exit, “Get… get dressed first,” Carmen added.

When Dakota finally left the room, Carmen relaxed and slumped down on the toilet seat. She had controlled these urges for three years now, ever since her ex-girlfriend had broken up with her. As such it both made sense and none that she would experience them now. Was it because she saw a girl naked for the first time in so long? Or was it because of that cock?

Carmen never sexually cared for men. She liked them individually, her father for instance, but never had she thought of one in such a manner. The mere of thought of being penetrated by something so blunt and obtrusive and… base repulsed her. So why did seeing Dakota like that rouse these urges? It had to be seeing her pussy and ass. They were spectacular, she recalled with a dazed grin. So round and pert, like peaches, and her pussy was so cute.

Another wave of warmth seared through her. Carmen quickly caught herself and pinched her thigh, gasping at the pain that chased away her arousal. She sighed in relief. It was undeniably Dakota’s womanhood that set her off like that. Had to be, Carmen decided and pushed the concern from her mind.

Whatever the cause of her excitement, she now had a book of unimaginable power in her grasp. And one that apparently didn’t even know its own abilities if the rules were anything to go by. They hadn’t mentioned anything about her being able to control someone’s actions after transforming them, just that she would have a small measure of mental sway over them. Perhaps it would be worth exploring in the future?

Carmen vehemently chased the notion from her mind. There was no chance that she would risk compromising her future just because of this magical book. It was her insurance. That’s all. Her mind ambled to the reason she had changed Dakota in the first place; anger. Carmen heaved a sigh, but couldn’t refute her own head.

“Gotta have more control than that,” she muttered and glanced to her bag, where the notebook resided. She wouldn’t use it again, not without good reason. Carmen nodded to herself and stood, grabbed her bag, then headed to the cafeteria to enjoy her lunch. As she walked down the hallways, barren except for the few students who lingered, Carmen saw a huge, pitch black shadow pass over the school. She paused and looked out of the window with a frown. How could there be a shadow without any sunlight?

Almost as if to attempt to answer her unspoken query, a black feather floated down. It didn’t seem to be swayed by the air currents, as it swung to and fro without straying far from the window. Carmen unlatched the opening and leaned out, managing to grab the feather. It was enormous! Far too big for any bird with black plumage she’d heard of before. And it was so dark, like a blackhole in her hand.

Carmen slid it into her bag and continued on her way, glad that she had something other than a supernatural notebook to occupy her attention.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 2 - The Seikogami Descends

Dakota’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper with every step. Questions submerged her mind in a sea of doubt and worry. When did she go into the bathroom? Why? She had used it less than an hour ago during class, and she certainly didn’t feel any new sense of relief now. Rather, she felt almost cheated of something. Students passed her in the hallway, but they went completely ignored even as they cowered or stared at her. A benefit of being Mary’s friend for so long. Dakota ran a hand through her dark hair with a groan.

“Whatever,” she decided and hastened her steps to find her friends.

They were in the cafeteria, sat around one of the central tables. The other students gave them a wide berth as traditional, with only the few fortunate enough to be considered underlings sitting within four feet of the group. Mary and the others were clearly in the middle of a story of some kind as Dakota stepped into the room, laughing and watching Mary – the storyteller – seemingly unaware and unconcerned about her lack of presence. The tan teen scowled in annoyance and marched over.

Dakota wasn’t a meek girl by any means. Her father was ex-German military, though only a common foot soldier, and taught her to be repulsed by fear. It was for the weak, he said, not something he would stand for her to experience. And that line of thought had long since pervaded her mind for most of her life, leading through school and the initial hardships of puberty. Until she met Mary and Gretchen in her freshman year of high school.

“Hi guys!” Dakota loudly greeted them, settling down beside Ashley, who shimmied across the bench to make room.

“Hey, Dakota,” Mary said with a dismissive glance in her direction, “So, there I was and this stud, and I do mean stud, walks up to me and starts flirting!”

“What’d you do?” Ashley inquired eagerly. Her experiences with men were lacking in comparison to the rest of the group, only having met a few outside of her family and dated even less. There were far more interesting things in life, such as clothes or jewellery or listening to Mary’s exploits.

“Yeah, what’d you do?” Dakota echoed, glancing around brazenly to assert herself back into the group. Her gaze went unnoticed, however, as Mary continued on without so much as a glimpse in the half-German’s direction.

“Well, I flirted back, obviously,” Mary continued with a condescending eyeroll aimed at Ashley, “And he was like that,” she snapped her fingers, “Under my spell. Seriously, I bet I could’ve gotten him to rob a bank if I said I’d flash my tits.” Dakota laughed above the others.

“Worth every penny,” Gretchen giggled and gave her friend a poke in the chest, feeling the mound depress only slightly under her finger.

“Fuck yeah,” Mary agreed and hefted them in her hands, squeezing the mounds as she leaned forward to show her bountiful cleavage, “Though I’m thinking maybe a bit bigger? They’re only a large DD right now.”

“Hmm,” Ashley studied Mary’s chest intently, “I think you’re better off as you are. Any bigger and you’ll ruin your figure,” she advised solemnly.

“Think so? Yeah, guess you’re right,” Mary assented with a curt nod. She trusted Ashley, not for her intellect or her appearance, but her eye for fashion. The girl’s mother ran one of the largest fashion boutiques in the USA after all, and clearly that eye for style passed through the bloodline.

“I dunno. I think you could go up another cup size,” Dakota offered as sincerely as she could.

“Don’t be stupid,” Mary snapped, fixing a glare on the tan half-German, “Didn’t you hear Ashley? Last time I checked, you aren’t a famous designer, Dakota…” Mary rolled her eyes with a condescending shake of her head and briefly trailed off, before launching back into her tale, as fi she hadn’t been interrupted.

“So, when I got him eating out of my hand, I figured ‘fuck it’. I dragged into the toilets and oh my god!” Mary made a show of fanning herself, “He was fucking huge. I mean, I couldn’t even fit my hand around it!”

“Oh, shit,” Ashley gasped as she envisioned such a phallus. Mary’s hands weren’t particularly dainty for her size, only marginally smaller than Zoey’s, who stood far above the blonde.

“Yeah, it had to be, like, nine inches long or something. He was a monster!”

Dakota bit back her response, recalling her own encumberment that morning in the library. It may have shrunk down, however the memory remained firmly locked in her mind. It must’ve been at least a foot, Dakota thought, almost melancholy for the lost giant she could’ve had.

“Did you fuck him?” Gretchen pressed, clearly growing interested in the story.

“Who the fuck wouldn’t?!” Mary giggled, louder than necessary, and glanced at Dakota, who hunched her shoulders and lowered her chin.

“How was it?” Ashley clasped her hands together, eyes growing wide, as she rubbed her thick thighs together. Dakota glanced at her and immediately looked away at a strange swell of sensation in her crotch, however couldn’t resist another glimpse of the rich girl. She couldn’t be solely blamed for her weakness, though, as Ashley was easily the most well-endowed of the group – Dakota couldn’t speak for the school, as she rarely spared a look for other students – with a pair of breasts larger than Mary’s implants. She had shown them to the group on a dare once.

Dakota almost licked her lips at the memory. They had been so huge, resting on her lightly rounded belly with matching, plump nipples and areolae to cap them. Everyone had copped a feel that night. Dakota swore she could still feel their heavy weight and supple smoothness in her hands. She found her gaze affixed to the wealthy girl’s bosom and tore her eyes away, blushing fiercely as a warmth blossomed in her groin. No, Dakota silently begged, don’t get hard, don’t get hard.

“So, then I started riding him. It was the only way I could get it all in me. And fuck! I swear I could, like, see him through me. Like I could fucking reach down and jerk him off,” Mary extravagated with a bite of her juicy bottom lip. Her hands went to her breasts again.

“I, uh, I’m gonna get some food,” Dakota weakly excused herself. Her father’s teachings were completely forgotten as she stood, shoulders hunched and head low, and weaved through the throngs of student infested tables. She didn’t see them so much as mechanically avoid them. How could Mary treat her like that? They’d been friends since freshman year, after all. Though it wasn’t the first time, Dakota recalled.

Mary had treated her like this before, ignoring her existence and, when she did acknowledge her presence, treated her as a lesser. The latter was far from unusual, as Mary seemed defined by her ‘superiority’ over others. No one was her equal. Not the teachers and certainly not any of her fellow students. Yet Dakota had never once felt so... excluded.

Her eyes widened and she came to an abrupt stop as she froze in abject horror; did they know about her dick?

“Shit!” Someone yelled as they crashed into her. Dakota numbly fell onto her rear, the ‘attacker’ doing the same with a pained groan that soon swiftly to frustration. The sounds of a plastic tray and ceramic plate crashing down and shattering soon followed, as did the splatter of whatever food had been on them.

“Sorry,” Dakota mumbled and clamoured up to her feet.

“The least you could do is help me up,” the disgruntled student muttered, extending a hand to be assisted. Dakota acted on impulse and helped her up, unable to resist looking at her as she did so; it was Carmen, the honour student. In an instant, Dakota felt her mind split open in a titanic avalanche of thoughts and emotions, yet none of them were distinct enough for her to identify. Just a maelstrom swirling within her mind.

“Sorry about your, uh, food. And clothes. I could get you a new tray, if you’d like?” Dakota offered, feeling her face burn with an unwelcome warmth.

“No, it’s fine. Ugh, this’ll take forever to wash out,” Carmen grumbled as she took in her Bolognaise stained sweater, from which several strands of pasta hung. She then looked up from her ruined garment and saw Dakota, “Oh, it’s you.”

“What?” Dakota frowned at the cold sensation that swept through her.

“Nothing,” Carmen sighed, “See ya.”

“Wait,” Dakota lightly grabbed Carmen by the shoulder and recoiled at the sudden spark that shocked her, both figuratively and literally, “Um, at least let me help wash it out?”

“What’s your plan?” Carmen inquired flatly, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

“No plan,” Dakota quickly assured, raising her hands, “I just wanna help. That’s all. Promise.” Carmen’s eyes thinned to mere slits, clearly unconvinced, before shrugging her slender shoulders and sighing.

“Whatever,” Carmen said and turned to head to the restrooms. She paused and glanced behind her, finding that Dakota was following close behind. None of the other students paid them any mind, preoccupied with their own conversations and meals. Carmen sighed again, “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want your help.”

Dakota opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut and nodded. Her eyes flitted about, before falling to the ground, away from Carmen’s gaze. The half-German nodded and headed for the lunch que.

Carmen shook her head at the encounter, perplexed by Dakota’s reaction. She might’ve thought Dakota was genuinely remorseful if she hadn’t known better. That, or the tan girl had a serious crush on her. A chuckle vibrated in Carmen’s chest at the idea as she entered the restroom. She turned a tap on high and grabbed as many paper towels as she could, dabbing at her ruined sweater to try and clear away the mess of pasta and sauce. Her mind wandered as she did so, considering whether the Futa Note could have other side effects.

It did say that she would become the subject of her ‘victims’ sexual desires. Was it really that immediate? Or did the notebook do something else to Dakota’s psyche, possibly changing it to lust after women and she was only just beginning to realise it. Carmen leaned against the sink and studied herself in the mirror, frowning at the vaguely concerned look in her eye. There was no sense in worrying about someone like Dakota, or what the girl might feel toward her. Even if it was almost flattering.

Dakota watched Carmen exit the restroom from the lunch que. Her vision ignored all others present, even those who passed directly in front of her, fixed squarely on the honour student. There was something about her, Dakota thought, but she couldn’t place her finger on exactly what it was.

Carmen wasn’t stunning in any way. She was average at best, with a decent bust for her height, but was left wanting for curves due to her waist and hips. Her face was cute, though. Plump lips under a button nose and azure eyes, framed by her short, naturalistic hair. There was no makeup from what Dakota could discern. A shame, she thought, wondering just what Carmen would like with a little cosmetic assistance. Dakota started as she realised just what she was thinking and continued down the line.

Lunch came to an end with the usual shrill bell. Carmen groaned as she abandoned the last of her second attempt at a meal and made her way to class. She spotted Dakota along the way, trailing after Mary and the others. Though she looked out of place, somehow. Carmen’s brow furrowed at the sight, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She took her seat next to a window and pulled out her regular notebook, ignoring the Futa Note.

Others filed in reluctantly despite their boisterous chatter to claim their desks. Carmen ignored them all, favouring the view from the window overlooking the campus gates. The wind had picked up it seemed, as the forlorn tree’s branches shook wildly and the blades of grass rippled. People walked by the gates dressed in thick, wool coats to be spared the chill. Carmen rested her cheek in her hand as she waited for the teacher.

She did her best to ignore her classmates. They were still talking obnoxiously loud, trying to hear one another over the blanket of noise their peers created. Carmen glanced around, spotting Dakota sat near the front of the class. She was clearly uncomfortable, looking around visibly to try and avert her gaze from directly ahead of her, where a girl was bent over a chair, idly talking to her friend without a care for those behind her. Carmen frowned; didn’t they know it was Dakota behind them?

“Was she kicked out or something?” Carmen wondered under her breath, before turning her attention back to the outside world as a deep black shadow crossed over the courtyard. Her furrowed brow deepened further in confusion and glanced up to the sky, still covered in a sheet of greyish clouds, allowing only the faintest light to reach the world below. So how could something cast a shadow like that? She wondered again.

“Take your seats, take your seats!” The teacher called as she set down a stack of files. It was all for show in case the principal made an unannounced inspection, however, as she grabbed a single textbook – the same one that every student in attendance possessed – and began copying from it.

Carmen nevertheless took careful notes, devoting half of her attention to the teacher and the rest to her own studies. She couldn’t be careless, for fear that the instructor might take the time to reveal some additional information. Rare as such an instance might be. Something flitted by the window in her peripheral vision and drew her focus. Carmen turned her head around to look outside and saw a familiar black feather gliding down.

She glanced to the front to find the teacher’s back was turned. Carmen knew few others would be looking forward, either joining her in study or doodling or playing on their phones. There was little chance of being caught for inattention. She opened the window slightly and reached for the feather, silently urging the wind to blow into her hand. In a near perfect coincidence, the feather brushed against her palm.

Carmen grasped it in her hand and quietly shut the window, returning to her normal position looking down at her desk. She laid the massive feather before her. It was impossibly huge, easily the length of her forearm, bigger than the last one. What sort of creature could possibly have such plumage? The shadow returned yet again. Carmen quickly brought her gaze outside to observe it, seeing an almost humanoid figure with two great appendages extending from it. But that’s impossible, Carmen thought in shock and shook her head.

Her day had simply been weird and stressful. That was all. No such animal like that existed and humans can’t fly without mechanical aid. She was certain of that much. Although, her mind contradicted, if something like the Futa Note could exist, then what created it. A deity? A witch? It seemed unlikely that it would be the result of scientific mishap.

Carmen couldn’t help but reach into her bag and pull the book out. She flipped through its pages, searching for some form of hint at who, or what, owned it. Nothing but blank, lined paper greeted her questing gaze, except Dakota’s lonely transformation, until she reached the rules. A defeated sigh slipped past her lips as she slid it back into her bag and returned her attention back to her studies.

The school day finally came to an end. Carmen exhaled in relief, glad that she had work that day as she packed up. Anything would be better than focusing on the Futa Note’s perplexing origins. She joined the legion of footsteps exiting the building, breaking away at her first chance to make her way to work. Normalcy was exactly what she needed, Carmen thought, no strange magical books or unreadable teenagers to crowd her already encumbered mind.

Soothe the Soul was on a slow day when she arrived. Carmen couldn’t conceal her dismay at this, both for the lack of mental stimulus and how her tips would suffer. Only a few people sat at the coffee tables, idly sipping at drinks as they stared at their phones or laptops. A dejected sigh escaped Carmen’s lips as she struggled not to lean forward on the counter.

“Here,” Stacy handed Carmen a cup of coffee with an apologetic smile, “You look like your soul needs some soothing.”

Carmen smiled, “Thanks, Stacy,” she inhaled the enticing aroma and took a sip. Carmen was never one for coffee or tea, unable to find the right balance of sweetness and bitterness in either, yet Stacy brewed her the perfect cup almost every day. And who was she to say no to a free, hot beverage?

“I tried a little more cream and added a bit of a new herb. Is it any good?” Stacy inquired.

“Very,” Carmen nodded, “I bet it’ll sell great.”

“Nope,” Stacy disagreed, still wearing her grin, “Everyone else who tried it thought it was, pardon my French, ‘fucking shit’.”

“Well, they’re not honour students with a bright future,” Carmen huffed and took a long gulp.

“Thanks, Carmen. Head home for the day. Doesn’t look like we’ll be too busy.”


“I’ll still pay you for it,” Stacy added, “I’ve got extra cash after all.”

“Oh?” Carmen arched a curious eyebrow.

“Yep,” Stacy assented, “After I let Monica go, I’ve got a little extra. Until I hire someone new, that is.”

“Good for you,” Carmen meant it too. She hated to see Stacy be taken advantage of, particularly by those who weren’t very tactful about it, and would’ve fired Monica a year ago if she had the power to do so.

“Thanks. Now off you go, before it gets dark.”

Carmen didn’t argue, knowing when not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The wind had settled to a soft breeze and the cold only had the barest hint of bite to it, no longer seeming to seek out every slight gap in Carmen’s clothes. She glanced up at the sky, estimating that the sun wouldn’t set for another hour if she was lucky, and headed to central park.

Few others were around that evening. Couples and home bound individuals were all that occupied the vast space aside from Carmen, who sat on a relatively dry bench to stare out at the vastness. The park could be seen as menacing or mysterious in the dim light, though both could be viewed as the same. Carmen didn’t care for either notion, choosing instead to enjoy the visual of the sparsely covered trees and dew-covered grass.

“It’s peaceful here,” said an unfamiliar voice from behind her. Carmen started at the sound, but quickly calmed down.

“In the Winter, yeah. Everyone’s out in the Summer though.”

“Hmm, I see,” the voice was strangely husky, deep and somehow seductive. Carmen felt her heartrate jump slightly as she wondered if this was a possible rapist, “But here you are.”

“I don’t mind the cold,” Carmen said, hoping to better gauge who this person might be without seeing her, for she was certain that voice was female, “Well, I do. But the tranquillity is worth it.”

“I agree. Sometimes silence is worth more than gold. Or even passion to some,” the voice giggled, a soft, musical sound that, despite the tender notes, managed to retain its sexual undertone, “But I do wonder,” the voice continued, “Why do you not simply try and create this ‘tranquillity’ as you put it? Surely you have the power to do so?”

“I’m not exactly rich,” Carmen said, hoping that might sway the woman to leave her be.

“I’m not talking about wealth, girl. I’m talking about power. Perhaps one that you gained recently?” Carmen’s eyes widened in shock. She jumped to her feet and turned around to face this eerily knowledgeable person.

“Who are… you?” Her voice failed her, falling to a mere squeak as she took in the staggering sight before her.

“I am Ryuka,” the ‘woman’ introduced herself, standing to her full height and spreading her wings wide, “A Seikogami and the owner of that notebook in your bag,” she said and pointed to Carmen’s bag.

Carmen stepped away and nearly fell onto her ass. This was impossible. This woman was impossible. No one was that tall, nor that busty, or that thin, or that voluptuous or that beautiful or… Carmen realised she wasn’t breathing and exhaled breathlessly. This ‘Ryuka’ was an impossibility.

She stood easily over a foot over Carmen’s above average height. Her hair was long and looked thick, strong and incredibly soft. It was a midnight black, almost seeming to blot out all light that surrounded it, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Carmen’s eyes went to follow the straight, absurdly long locks down the ‘Seikogami’s’ body, only to be enraptured by her face. Large, demonically red eyes surrounded pupils akin to a cat’s, and were framed by thick lashes. The sclera was a faint yellow colour.

Ryuka’s nose was perfectly shaped, sized and positioned on her face. It didn’t intrude on her high cheekbones or her juicy, ruby red lips that practically begged to be admired. Rather, every facet of her being seemed designed for admiration. Carmen confirmed this as she tore her equally fascinated and horrified gaze away.

Whatever a Seikogami was, they seemed like a quintessential succubus. That was the only comparison Carmen could make at that moment, as she stared at the single, most perfect pair of breasts she had seen in her life. They were immaculate. Not a hint of bias to one side or the other as they sat high on her chest, yet sagged under gravity just enough to further entice the eye. There was no mistaking their authenticity as Ryuka shifted her weight and set the deliciously oversized mounds jiggling.

Carmen licked her lips without thought. She almost wanted to simply stand there and take in this supernaturally gorgeous creature. A sharp gust of icy air froze her stream of consciousness, allowing her to move her eyes to Ryuka’s wings. They were enormous, clearly suited to give her flight, with an all too familiarly captivating dark plumage. Carmen’s mind darted to the feathers in her bag and immediately deduced their origins.

Ryuka, apparently more than used to being ogled, then shook her hips from side to side, drawing Carmen’s attention away from her daunting wingspan. The human swallowed a mouthful of saliva, however it quickly refilled her maw as she helplessly lusted for this creature. Her eyes nevertheless continued their journey across Ryuka’s body.

Her breasts tapered down into her slender waist. It wasn’t rail thin like the ridiculous proportions of a Barbie doll and she wielded the faintest hint of abs. Carmen quickly glanced at the Seikogami’s arms, noting how soft yet strong they looked. She tensed at the sight, suddenly aware of how puny her own body was by comparison, and resumed her study of this thing’s body.

Directly following her trim middle, Ryuka’s hips flared out provocatively. They easily outmatched her shoulders in width, yet didn’t look outplace as her body almost seemed to pour into the outrageous curves, and tapered down into her proportionally thick thighs. Carmen found her mind at a loss as she finally drew her gaze to Ryuka’s crotch. Her lips fell open in a wordless statement of her sheer awe and in fear at the heat that swept through her.

Ryuka was a futanari. There was no mistaking the blunt tool of sexual destruction that hung from her groin like a third leg, its seemingly circumcised, purple head dangling between her knees. And it was completely flaccid. That much Carmen could tell from a single glimpse. The… thing – for it couldn’t possibly be a penis, not at that absurdly monstrous size – rested atop a scrotum that was similarly sized. No, Carmen corrected herself, it was bigger than what seemed proportionate. Each testicle, if the giant orbs could be called such, had to be the size of beach balls. Perhaps even yoga balls.

“N-no way,” Carmen mumbled and stepped back.

“What? Oh, you didn’t see the whole picture,” Ryuka giggled again, the sound somehow even richer with her sexual prowess than before, and turned around. Her hair fell to the top of her ass, which, just like the rest of her, seemed to go beyond the notion of ‘too big’ and settled on ridiculous. And, also just like the rest of her, impossibly looked right on Ryuka’s overly sexual body. Carmen barely managed to catch herself before she could start drooling.

Ryuka then bent forward and pulled her cheeks apart. Carmen’s breath hitched in her throat and her body burned hotter than ever, as if someone had placed her into a scalding hot bath of desires. How could anything like this exist? She dimly wondered as she took in Ryuka’s anus. The ring of muscle was spread wide apart as if an invisible arm were inside. Beneath it, however, was something that captivated Carmen; Ryuka’s pussy. Just like everything else about her, it was big. The lips were swollen and smooth, almost virginal in appearance. Carmen could see the juices glistening on its outer folds, though.

“W… what are you?” Carmen managed to squeak, despite her body begging her to fall to her hands and knees and beg for this impossibly gorgeous entity to show her more.

“My, my,” Ryuka murmured amusedly without moving, leaving her apparently ruined anus on display, “Still resisting. That’s quite impressive. Most humans I reveal myself to are licking every inch of me by now. Oh, but you want to do that don’t you, human?” Ryuka teased.

Her voice seemed to take on physical form as it reached out to Carmen and pulled on her. The honour student clenched her hands into tight fists and averted her gaze, digging her nails into her palms to distract from her inane yearning.

“A-answer me,” Carmen demanded with as much strength as she could muster.

“So determined,” Ryuka laughed and straightened up, smirking as she saw the disappointment in Carmen’s eyes, “I already told you what I am; I am a Seikogami, the owner of the Futa Note, which is now in your possession if I’m not mistaken.”

“What is a Seikogami?” Carmen managed to embolden her tone without such a tantalising view to distract her, however she still couldn’t raise her voice above a strong whisper with Ryuka’s unfathomable breasts staring at her.

“We are the epitome of human desire. Gods of sex if you will,” Ryuka exposited, running a deft hand along her body to accentuate her extravagant features, “We were born out of your species’ rampant lusts, or so the story goes. Regardless, my kind have existed for as long as humanity has.”

“That all?” Carmen managed to focus solely on her eyes to try and gleam if she was lying or not.

“Maybe, maybe not. I might tell you more if I stick around long enough.”

“Great,” Carmen grumbled, her annoyance dampening her arousal and allowing her enough freedom of mind to turn away from the striking visage. She adjusted her bag to comfortably sit on her shoulder and briskly headed home, noticing that the sky had darkened considerably. After her mind settled somewhat, she noticed the uncomfortable sensation in her crotch, “Shit,” Carmen muttered, realising that she was still turned-on from the meeting.

“You should just follow your body’s desires,” said a familiarly husky voice. Carmen jumped and looked to her side, seeing Ryuka floating right along with her every step.

“What the fuck? Why’re you following me?”

“As a Seikogami I’m basically bound to whoever has my notebook. Until you die or give it up at least,” Ryuka explained with an unhappy sigh and shrug.

“Great,” Carmen groaned and hurried up in the hopes of ditching the creature. Ryuka kept pace, however, grinning mockingly the entire time, “Just great.” The heat from her arousal was only growing greater, as each step seemed to rub her thighs against her tender pussy.

“I can sense it,” Ryuka said with a long inhale, “Your desire. Just FYI, human, it won’t go away. In fact, you’ll just keep getting hotter and hotter until you basically rip your clothes off.”

“I just need a few minutes,” Carmen growled as she spied the dilapidated apartment complex she called home.

“Oh, you won’t have that long,” Ryuka assured her with a knowing laugh, hovering slightly closer, “Part of being a Seikogami is having this effect on people. It’s our aura. They can’t help themselves. I give you another forty seconds before you’re a wreck.”

Carmen didn’t answer and simply sped up, taking strides as long as her legs would allow. She would get inside, lock herself in the bathroom and deal with this. Then she could forget about the day, the Futa Note and Ryuka by playing with Melody. Her determined face broke into a grin at the memories of her little sister.

They were rarely apart in the eight years since Melody had been born and their father had passed. Carmen had essentially taken on all the role of her mother over the years, relieving her to focus on earning money. It was interesting to think of what kind of effects this had taken on them on. Carmen could almost say that her potent will-power came from her little sister, having spent years dealing with all the roles of her mother. She knew now that it took a special kind of patience to raise a child, making her all the more grateful to Alicia. Yet she was glad to have the experiences. Even changing Melody’s diapers.

Carmen laughed to herself at the memories playing through her mind. Changing Melody’s diaper for the first time. Burping her. Rocking her to sleep. Feeding her. Lying in bed with her sister wrapped up like an adorable burrito.

“I’m home!” Carmen announced, quickly kicking her shoes off and setting her bag down.

“Carmen! Carmen! Carmen!” Came that shrill, joyous voice which Carmen adored. Melody bounced toward Carmen and leapt into her outstretched arms, giggling as she was lifted high into the air.

“Hey, Supergirl. I missed you,” Carmen told her with an affection nuzzle against her soft cheek.

“I missed you too,” Melody said, hugging her sister.

“Did you eat yet?” Carmen asked as she set her down.

“Uh huh,” Melody nodded excitedly, “I made myself my own sandwich!”

“Really? All on your own?”


“You didn’t ask a neighbour to help?”

“’Course not. They’re scary,” Melody shuddered.

“Good girl,” Carmen smiled and patted her on the head, ruffling her hair slightly, “After I’m done with the bathroom, I’ll help you with your homework, okay?”

“Aww, but I wanna draw,” Melody pouted.

“After your homework,” Carmen said sternly, “I’ll even pose for you.” She added, knowing the incentive was irresistible to her creative sister.

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Carmen extended her pinkie finger, which Melody quickly wrapped her own around, “I’ll be right back,” Carmen assured her and headed into their small bathroom. The sink stood barely half a foot away from the toilet, which, itself, almost pressed into the cracked, miniscule bathtub. It barely allowed Melody’s tiny frame to lay down comfortably, let alone Carmen or her Mother.

Carmen couldn’t care less about the cramped space, however, as she all but tore off her school’s skirt. It was regulation all year for students at Saint Puella to wear the navy-blue skirt, regardless of the weather. They could wear whatever tops they liked and whatever undergarments, such as thick pantyhose, so long as the skirt was intact and visible. Carmen gladly discarded it as she sat on the toilet lid and spread her legs apart.

Her pussy felt like a furnace had been lit in her womb. Carmen moaned and sighed in stark relief as she finally touched her engorged mons, feeling pleasure strike through her in a bolt of delight. There were so many times she had wanted to stop in the street, slink into an alley and finger herself. But she resisted, even with Ryuka’s constant goading and supposedly arousing aura. She tugged her saturated panties roughly to the side, cooing at the air that brushed against her. Her finger quickly replaced it and slid into her utterly drenched opening.

It had been months since Carmen had last masturbated. She preferred to focus her time on studying for the future or helping Melody, however there were occasions that her urges overwhelmed her. Though rare, she knew exactly what she liked. A slow build-up, teasing herself until she was at the precipice, then stopping to fondle her tits until she calmed down. Then she would jam two or, if she was particularly pent up, three fingers into her snatch and roughly thrust until she came hard.

This was completely opposite to the norm, however. Carmen sank a second and third finger into her pussy almost immediately after the first, stretching her canal wide and sending crushing tides of pleasure through her. A high, keening moan escaped her lips as she curled her probing digits to find her g-spot. Her nails raked across her sensitive walls, imparting both discomfort and pleasure upon her.

“So intense,” Carmen moaned, struggling to keep herself from crying out each time she pushed in to her knuckles. Her palm came down upon her clit, manipulating it to release a wave of burgeoning ecstasy upon her frazzled nerves.

“Not surprising,” Ryuka interjected, appearing almost from thin air to hover just in front of Carmen.

“R-Ryuka,” Carmen groaned, unable to stop herself as she masturbated. Her ears filled with the sounds of her pounding heart and rising moans, though they were only an accoutrement to the wet slap of her hand against her snatch. There was only one time before that Carmen had felt so worked up, yet that had nothing to do with her own actions. It was her ex’s. Carmen clenched up, thrusting her fingers to the hilt, as she recalled those sensations.

“You went almost three whole minutes in my presence without even touching yourself. That’s the same as edging yourself for a week,” Ryuka stated, watching the teen intently.

“Sh-shut up,” Carmen grunted, working herself to a climax in spite of her blatant voyeur.

Ryuka chuckled, “Feisty. Here, let me help,” the Seikogami drifted nearer and grabbed Carmen’s free hand, pulling it to her inhumanly endowed breast, “Squeeze.”

Carmen couldn’t hope to disobey in her lust-ridden state. She clamped down on the creature’s breast, a part of her marvelling at its marshmallow like consistency despite its firm appearance, while the rest of her became lost in a sudden wave of irrefutable pleasure. Her lips fell open in a barely restrained cry of lewd delight, which Ryuka quickly took advantage of. The Seikogami crouched down and pushed her untouched breast against Carmen’s mouth.

The teen didn’t know what came over her as she latched onto the hard nipple that filled her maw. She had been so completely enamoured by the rest of Ryuka’s impossible form that she had barely noticed them before, but now she could see nothing but the inhuman beauty’s breast and taste only her plump tit. They were huge, Carmen realised as she found the other with her hand. Each of them were easily as big as Melody’s fists.

“Here you go,” Ryuka sighed happily.

Carmen glanced up at her to demand an explanation, however she quickly received it as her mouth was filled with a thick, creamy substance. It’s milk, she realised as she instinctively gulped it down to avoid choking. She practically felt it gush down her oesophagus and into her stomach, before an inferno blazed into existence. Mere pleasure was eradicated and replaced by an absolute ecstasy, sending her careening into an orgasm so sudden and potent that she couldn’t control herself.

Carmen’s head flew back, mouth agape, as stray drops of rich milk sprayed from the freed nipple. Droplets landed on her face, neck and sweater, somehow pushing her pleasure to even greater heights. A sharp cry of bliss clawed its way through her throat as her body turned rigid. Her fingers became completely enveloped in her pussy, the soft, tender walls conforming around her digits as they gripped them like a car compactor. Carmen felt her juices squirt from around her hand.

“Carmen?” Melody knocked on the bathroom door with a worried frown, “You okay?”

“I-I-I’m f-fine… Melody. Just… just stubbed my toe,” Carmen panted, struggling with all of her considerable will-power to keep from crumbling to the floor in an orgasmic heap. She barely managed to stay seated while leaning against the basin, as her legs trembled and her pussy continued to convulse with the aftermath.

“Really?” Melody asked, doubtful.

“O-okay,” Carmen laughed breathlessly, “I saw a really big spider.” She heard the rapid patter of her sister’s small feet as she fled the vicinity and grinned, then turned her attention to Ryuka, who smirked down at her.

“Did you enjoy your first experience with a Seikogami, Carmen?” Ryuka ran a finger up a breast and gathered as large a helping of milk as she could, before licking it clean.

“Shut up,” Carmen gasped as she tried to stand up on her quivering legs. She would have had an easier time standing on jelly.

“No need to be rude,” Ryuka sniffled. Carmen shot her a weary glare and dried her panties as best she could, then struggled with her skirt.

“How is it that I’ve known you for less than an hour and you’re already on my last nerve?” Carmen groaned as she smoothed out her clothes.

“Everyone reacts differently to my kind,” Ryuka shrugged.

“When Melody goes to sleep, you’re telling everything you can about the Futa Note,” Carmen declared, fixing a stare on the deity that offered no quarter for disagreement. A day without answers was a day too long for Carmen.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 3 - Shedding Some Light

“So… what do you want to know?” Ryuka inquired, reclining in the air with gentle wingbeats. There were no air currents coming from her, despite the daunting wingspan. Her towering legs were crossed, pressing her eye-catching thighs together and allowing her show-stealing cock and balls to rest atop them. She had her arms folded behind her head to shamelessly present her immense, pristinely shaped breasts to the human beneath her. While said human glowered up at her.

“Everything,” Carmen repeated, for what felt like the thousandth time that night, and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, “I want to know everything about Seikogami and the Futa Note. Or whatever you can tell me,” Ryuka exaggerated a thoughtful pose, looking up and humming in annoying contemplation, “How long have you had the Futa Note?”

“All my existence,” Ryuka answered with a tight grin. It would be far too simple a matter to just tell this human all that she wanted to know, and there was no doubt that doing so would ruin her curiosity. As soon as someone learns everything about a subject, be it about a person, god or location, they lose interest. And Ryuka wanted as much time with this human as possible.

“How long have you existed?” Carmen asked with a hushed voice, cautious of waking Melody up.

“Millennia… maybe four or five?” Ryuka added, upon seeing the scowl darkening Carmen’s otherwise pleasant features. Such a shame, the Seikogami thought. If she only let herself relax more. After such a long lifetime, Ryuka knew full well when a person couldn’t let go of their tension and how it marred their appearance. She could see it in Carmen’s shoulders, her back and her face. They were rigid. Only when she orgasmed earlier did Ryuka see a glimpse of what could be; a cute, scholar with a soft body. Albeit one lacking in curves, but charm and intellect can go far.

“Who’s the oldest Seikogami?” Carmen continued.

Ryuka shrugged, “No one knows. I know Seikogami who have existed before me, but I’ve no idea for how long,” she yawned. Travelling through worlds was exactly as it sounded; exhausting. “Can we wrap this up? Seikogami still get bored and tired, just like you humans.”

“Alright… One more question,” Carmen lowered her gaze to rest upon her bag, wherein the Futa Note resided, “Why is the Futa Note in my possession?”

“Because you picked it up,” Ryuka replied with a snide chuckle, “Don’t think I chose you, Carmen. I merely dropped the book. It could have ended up in anyone’s hands. You just so happened to be the lucky recipient.”

“So, there’s no such thing as fate at work?”

“Well, there could be. My kind aren’t exactly the authority on such matters. We reside over our domain and that’s all.”

“That domain being…?” Carmen urged, only receiving a withering glance in return, “Oh, right.” She blushed as she recalled just what the Seikogami had done to her mere moments ago. Ryuka was a deity of sex, no doubt revered as a succubus in other cultures, though Carmen had heard nothing about Seikogami before. They were clearly unappreciated as far as gods went. And with good reason, Carmen added.

Ryuka yawned again and took on a foetal position, still hovering aloft in the air, then turned away from Carmen. It was just the first day, she told herself. Humans couldn’t hold onto their morals forever, not with such temptation and power staring them in the face. They were weak, foolish, so easily swayed by mere words. Ryuka almost barked with laughter. How could her kind accept such a truth?

She had observed humanity for decades before this day. They were exactly as she had been taught, yet far more complicated. For all those naïve enough to be manipulated, another was stubborn or suspicious, or puppeteering the manipulation. Others would be quick to anger, then calm and soft spoken in an instant. Ryuka sighed and let herself float down to the floor. She reached out and pressed a hand against the wood, feeling its rough texture and cold temperament. Why was her world barren of such sensations?

Carmen groaned and flopped back down onto her bed, tugging her ragged sheets up to her neck. She took one final glance at Melody and closed her eyes, willing her breathing to even out and her mind to empty. Sleep came with her practised method, blanketing her thoughts in darkness that gave way to all manner of visions. The mind’s playground in a way. Letting all subconscious thoughts pervade her internal sight, playing before her either nonsensically or all too coherently.

“Fuck, that’s cold!”

Carmen groaned angrily and rolled over, as if the added inch of distance would shield her from Ryuka’s noise, to no effect. She sighed as the Seikogami grumbled unintelligibly, turning onto her back and sitting up with a long stretch. Her joints popped satisfyingly as she relaxed with a long exhale, then turned to Melody who was in the process of mimicking her sibling.

“Good morning,” Carmen stifled a yawn.

“Good? It’s freezing. Ugh, why can’t the human world weather stay warm?” Ryuka grumbled and pantomimed warming her hands before a fire. Carmen glanced her way before ignoring the Seikogami, knowing full well that the deity didn’t feel the chill or was highly resistant to it.

“Morning, Carmen,” Melody replied and hopped to her feet, her nightgown swaying with her chipper movement. She took the first turn in the bathroom as Carmen poured a glass of orange juice for each of them. Their mother was already at work, leaving her usual note of greeting and wishing them a good day. Carmen and her little sister sat together in their room, shovelling dry cereal into their mouths as they talked.

“You haven’t talked about school lately,” Carmen glanced to her sibling, urging her to pick up the conversation piece.

“It’s fine,” Melody looked away, down at her bowl.

“Are they bullying you again?” Carmen inquired and thinned her eyes, watching carefully. Both sisters had dealt with bullies before, though Carmen had stepped in for Melody when she picked her up from school one day. They were the same type of juvenile brats that had once tormented Carmen as a child, making it all the easier to scare them away. And possibly scar them, Carmen thought, recalling how she had explained what happens when the human body shuts down when fatally wounded. She hadn’t made any attempt to veil the threat of her words either.

“No…” Melody mumbled.

“Melody…” Carmen cautioned.

“They aren’t, promise. I just…” Melody blushed and caused Carmen’s eyebrows to shoot up in understanding.

“Is it a boy?” She teased and poked her sibling playfully in the belly.

“K-kinda,” Melody relented with a small giggle as Carmen found a ticklish spot.

“A girl?” Carmen kept her teasing tone, however she couldn’t deny her worry. Children could be kind and cruel in equal measures, but the same couldn’t be said for their family or teachers. The environment makes a child in most situations, whether they could be open or closed-minded.

“Stop!” Melody cried and slapped Carmen’s hand away with a high-pitched laugh. The elder sibling pulled back with a smirk.

“Well, whatever it is. Talk to me if you need anything. Even Supergirl needs help sometimes,” Carmen said with a wink.

“Okay… Thanks, Carmen,” Melody returned her sister’s expression as they resumed their breakfast. When they finished, Carmen washed their bowls and packed Melody’s bag, while looking closely for hints at what was bothering her darling sibling. There was a notebook with ‘Keep out!!!’ scrawled messily over the cover. As much as she hated it, Carmen knew she would have to look through it later. Better to be hated for a good deed then to regret her lack of action later.

“Have a good day,” Carmen waved after her, closely watching Melody and those around her as the bus started toward her school.

“I’ll never understand why you humans go to school. Wouldn’t you learn just by being around your parents?”

“We learn the basics,” Carmen indulged the Seikogami, “But stuff like mathematics, or how physics work, or why the sky is blue are all things we need to learn. A god of sex would have no need for that, I’d presume?” Carmen inquired as she stepped back into the apartment. She had at least half an hour before she had to leave, giving her time to converse with this shameful excuse for a god.

“Who knows? I’ve never seen a child Seikogami, and I don’t remember being one,” Ryuka shrugged and plopped down on Carmen’s bed, which was far too small for the enormous deity.

“That makes it sound like your kind just pop into existence. Asexual reproduction?” Carmen snickered, “Weird considering what you’re supposed to be.”

“You say that like you still don’t believe I’m a Seikogami,” Ryuka stared at Carmen, who went about her room to make sure everything was in order. She made Melody’s bed, readied her clothes for the washer, even organised her pens and pencils.

“I still don’t really know what a Seikogami is. For all I know that book was covered in a weird hallucinogen and this is all just a drug trip,” Carmen knew that she wasn’t imagining this. It would be one thing if she had woken up and Ryuka was gone, but the ridiculously proportioned creature seemed incapable of masking her presence for long. Or another if she felt sick or saw other insanities aside from Ryuka, “And you’re not telling me anything either.”

“All you have to do is ask. I’m an open book,” Ryuka spread her wings wide, framing her ludicrous figure.

“Yeah right,” Carmen grumbled, but sighed, “Alright… Why does a Seikogami need a Futa Note?”

“For the same reason a human might. It sustains us,” Ryuka answered.

“Then why haven’t we heard about your kind?”

“It’s called being secretive, Carmen,” Ryuka rolled her eyes, “Despite what you might assume, Seikogami are quite private. We lure you humans to where you’ll never be found, then transport you to our world.”

“So that’s where the Siren myth comes from,” Carmen mumbled, briefly pausing her line of questions. How many disappearances could be explained as Seikogami meddling? A great many, she would wager, “How many of you are there?” She launched back into her queries. Ryuka hesitated and cupped her chin in her hand, then shrugged.

“I’ve no idea. Possibly hundreds. It’s hard to pay attention to numbers when we’re together,” Ryuka explained, shooting a teasing wink at the human, who blushed and turned away. Nothing better than a conservative human, she thought. They blushed over the slightest hint of flirting, let alone being in the presence of human lust personified.

“You kidnap hundreds of humans at a time?” Carmen returned to the matter at hand, keeping herself preoccupied to avoid staring at the lustful visage. Her eyes betrayed her time after time, however, and frequently stole glimpses of Ryuka’s perfectly huge breasts. Would they ever lose their lustre? They must, Carmen thought, despite feeling less than confident in that statement.

“That wouldn’t exactly be secretive. No, we only need a few every hundred years or so. We’re not like succubae from your legends,” Ryuka enlightened the mortal girl, watching as she took in all the information with vigour, seemingly hanging on every word. She hadn’t seen many humans so hungry for knowledge, particularly one so young.

“Then…” Carmen, again, tore her eyes away from her godly companion and glanced at her clock, “Shit! I’m gonna be late!” She rapidly packed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, then raced from the apartment, pausing only to lock the door. It was a near useless gesture, since she was certain Melody could knock it down with a weak kick. Carmen darted down the street, feet stomping on the concrete, while Ryuka flew with silent ease beside her.

Carmen panted heavily as she took her seat. The bell for first period rang just minutes after she oriented herself, allowing her to breathe in relief. Even one day of tardiness could make the difference between a scholarship and a life tormented by student loans, not that either would stop her in the long run. Nothing short of a meteorite could do that. Or perhaps a nuisance god, she thought and glared at Ryuka. The Seikogami stood beside Carmen’s desk, ignoring her to take in the room.

There was no mistaking why Seikogami didn’t have schools. To gather so many into such a confined space would lead to a storm of pure sexual debauchery. No one would pay even the slightest attention. Even the teacher wouldn’t be able to focus, whether they were human or Seikogami. The room wouldn’t survive either, Ryuka noted and unconsciously patted her balls, feeling them churn with her pent-up cum. She could drown this classroom if she wished to.

And, after an hour passed, figured she just might, “So boring,” Ryuka groaned, leaning forward to obscure Carmen’s notes and pouting like a petulant child. The human continued to write despite her unwelcome companion’s disruption, eyes fixated upon the pages that she rapidly filled with her notes, “You know, you could be writing names in the Futa Note right now,” Ryuka reminded her, smirking as Carmen jolted slightly.

“No,” Carmen firmly denied, yet couldn’t help but glance at her bag. She could see the Futa Note, the black spine plain against her sky-blue bag and the vibrant colours of her textbooks, almost as if it were daring her to use it again. Should have hidden it, she reprimanded herself and vowed to do so later that day. Ryuka’s smile sank and her lips returned to their childish pout.

“Come on. Just once? Use it on that teacher. Anything’s better than this boredom,” Ryuka whined, turning to face the board and seeing only scribbles of nonsense. Why would anyone willingly submit themselves to this? She looked about the room again and noticed how few people were paying attention to the front. One in particular caught her eye. She was staring at her, though Ryuka knew it was impossible for her do so. Meaning she was staring at Carmen. The Seikogami turned her crimson gaze on Carmen and chuckled knowingly.

Carmen ignored the sound and focused on her studies. Whether she had a notebook of unfathomable power or not didn’t change her plans, nor did the fact that an obnoxious god accompanied her. Ryuka continued to labour over the lack of excitement.

“Perhaps I should spice things up myself?” Ryuka cackled ominously and exhaled. Carmen frowned at her, before feeling a sudden heat surge within her core. It wasn’t nearly as potent as yesterday, however, much to her relief. The warmth still persisted in distracting her, tugging on her attention span. She inhaled slowly, letting it out in a soft breath, and tuned Ryuka out as best she could. Carmen noticed, in her vision’s periphery, the Seikogami’s expression had turned sour. She couldn’t help the rush of pride she felt at that.

Once the lunch bell rang, Carmen quickly made her way to the cafeteria. Ryuka followed, exaggerating her feelings towards being freed from the classroom, though she was clearly still unhappy that she had seemingly lost her influence over Carmen. In an unprecedented amount of time at that.

“Why didn’t your ‘aura’ work on me?” Carmen asked once she’d sat down to eat. The cafeteria was packed and loud, meaning no one would hear her seemingly talking to herself. She already knew that no one else could see or hear Ryuka, no doubt part of her kind’s ‘secretive’ nature, after Melody hadn’t reacted in the slightest to the Seikogami’s presence.

“You got used to it,” Ryuka answered sullenly, reclining on the table with her arms and legs sprawled out around her. She stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the cheap mockery of sunlight that beamed down at her. If nothing else, the human world was varied. First the park, so void of life and peaceful, then Carmen’s home, dilapidated and unwelcoming, to this apparent institute for learning. It was a far cry from the ‘unity’ that her world exhibited.

“Thank god,” Carmen sighed and tried to keep her eyes on her meal, another attempt at spaghetti bolognaise. She wouldn’t deny that it tasted awful compared to what her mother had once cooked at home, but the lunches were free and they were at least nutritional. And it provided her an escape from looking at Ryuka’s gorgeous form, though her eyes glanced to and fro incessantly.

“Don’t. It’s annoying,” Ryuka groaned and turned away.

“So, why’d you drop the Futa Note in my world, anyway?” Carmen inquired, taking a long drink from her water. The question had been on her mind since yesterday, yet she had neglected to ask it after Ryuka claimed to need sleep.

“Boredom,” Ryuka answered simply, without sparing a glance in Carmen’s direction.

“So you thought dropping your notebook of near omnipotence into the human world would alleviate your boredom?” Carmen asked, incredulously.

“You think there’s something more?” Ryuka questioned in return, turning her head to fix her blood-red eyes on the human, “That I have some form of master plan?”

“It’d be more believable than you simply being bored,” Carmen muttered.

“All I want is to be amused. And so far,” Ryuka added with a disdained sigh, “The most interesting thing to happen was making you finger yourself. And I can’t even do that now,” she lamented. After the last night, she had been looking forward to toying with Carmen, possibly stripping away her prudish shell. Now it was a nigh-insurmountable challenge. Especially as this human seemed so strong willed.

“Why not leave? I’d bet there’s a lot more interesting people than me,” Carmen offered, already weary of the god’s attitude.

“I can’t. A Seikogami must remain with their Futa Note, even if it’s ownership has changed. You’re stuck with me and vice versa.”

“Joy,” Carmen grumbled and finished her lunch, then headed off to the computer lab. She wasn’t keen on speaking with Ryuka, or paying attention to the Seikogami at all if possible, however her curiosity wouldn’t be denied. There was also the possibility that she could break whatever bound Ryuka to her. The name ‘Seikogami’ sounded Japanese, so there must be a charm or ritual of sorts to dispel such a presence. Anything. Just a way to keep herself from seeing or hearing Ryuka would suffice. Then Carmen could hide the Futa Note and forget this ever happened.

Carmen made her way to the back of the room, away from any potentially prying eyes. The last thing she needed was for rumours to mar her reputation. She typed ‘Seikogami’ into Google and excitedly hit enter. It was the internet, there would have to be mentions of these things somewhere. If not a way to remove them, then a way to understand them. Perhaps control one?

‘Did you mean ‘Shinigami’?’ was all that appeared before her. No search results, just that correction. Carmen sighed dejectedly and instead typed ‘Futa Note’. That got far more results, though it seemed limited to fanfiction of something called ‘Death Note’. Was there really no information on Seikogami? Ryuka cackled nearby, reading her expression. Carmen groaned and tried a different, broader approach.

“Japanese folklore gods of sex’

A small grin of victory tilted her lips as she scanned through the millions of results. Her expression soon dwindled to a bemoaned grimace, as all the results seemed to have nothing to do with Seikogami. Ryuka had said they were secretive. In that case, Carmen thought and began searching for similarities between Seikogami and other myths. Succubae were the most prominent. Various cultures defined other features of the god that hovered beside Carmen. But no mention of how to control or remove them. None with merit at least. Still, it was a start.

She moved to images and, after sifting through the less ‘wholesome’ pictures, found one that caught her eye. It looked like an old photograph, depicting a man and a woman, though the woman could barely be called such as her dress bulged obscenely at the crotch. Carmen could almost believe that the woman had smuggled bowling balls in her underwear. There was no mistaking her chest, though. Breasts easily bigger than the man’s head stood proud at eye level with him.

“Oh? A Seikogami?” Ryuka murmured, taking an interest in the woman that resembled her race.

“It would seem you’re not as secretive as you once thought,” Carmen stated.

“No. Whoever made this photo clearly saw one of my kind,” Ryuka assented and pulled back.

“Thought so,” Carmen sighed and clicked away. The photo had looked convincing, almost masterfully so, however she could make out faint signs of the woman’s visage being too clear. Not to mention that she lacked the wings of a Seikogami. And Carmen doubted these gods cared for clothes as she stole another glance at Ryuka’s naked state. She opened the website the photoshopped image was from, hoping to find other hints at Seikogami in the human realm.

Variations on succubae met her search. All of them sharing traits with Ryuka, yet never with all of them. There were a few, seemingly legitimate, claims from the 19[super]th[/super] century from people who claimed to have seen ‘beautiful naked women, with eyes red as blood and wings like a raven’s’ gliding through the air with men and women in their clutches. But they were all disproven as insane ravings by doctors. Carmen felt pity for those people, knowing that they might, indeed, have been completely sane. Or perhaps they were mad and their inane visions were a mere coincidence?

Regardless, it did little to help her. The most recent alleged sighting was over a century ago with no substantial evidence. Just like the rest. Carmen moved on from them and went back to searching for similarities. Seikogami must have left their mark on humanity, no matter how cautious Ryuka claimed they were.

She came across Sirens, just as she had compared before, though they were depicted as hideous creatures that used songs to lure sailors, rather than beauty. Carmen’s eyes darted to Ryuka, who found herself fascinated by the computers. The deity leaned over the barriers between monitors, ass high in the air and breasts brushing against the plastic, studying the monitors. Carmen immediately relocated her gaze back to the screen, though not before she felt a pang of desire throb within her.

Why did Ryuka have to be exactly her type? If her personality was different, and she lacked that monstrosity of a cock, Carmen wasn’t sure she would be able to resist such a creature. Her mind inadvertently strayed to her first – and only – girlfriend, sending a sharp flash of lust through her body as it recalled the ‘fun’ it’d had. A smile pulled on her lips at the memory of when they’d almost gotten caught in the janitor’s closet, but a grimace soon took its place. Carmen’s eyes strayed to her open bag. Maybe the Futa Note could reunite them?

She shook her head vehemently and rushed from the room after shutting down the computer. Ryuka quickly caught up to her.

“Now that’s what I wanted to see. Human ingenuity. You have access to pictures of whatever you want,” Ryuka stated in awe, “No wonder your kind are getting more and more perverted over the centuries.”

Carmen ignored her and hurried down the corridor. She could practically feel the Futa Note now, like it had gained several pounds, weighing on her shoulders and willpower. Is this what it’s like having a ‘monkey’ on your back? She idly wondered, wanting nothing more than to shrug off her backpack and throw the book away. Then it could be someone else’s problem. She shook her head once more, recalling the temptations that played through her mind at first. Anyone would have no doubt given in to such ideas.

“Hi!” Carmen froze in her tracks at the abrupt greeting and found herself standing almost face to face with Dakota, whose cheeks were flushed a deep red beneath her bronze skin, “Can… can I talk to you? In private.”


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 4 - Making a Friend

Carmen silently stared at Dakota for what could have been a minute. Students and teachers passed by, sparing only a glance at the frozen pair, but none questioned their stillness. Neither’s eye disconnected, their gazes seeming both; afraid to step down and ablaze with curiosity. Dakota’s lips parted and her focus, finally, shifted down to the floor.

“Please? It’s… important, I think?” Dakota said, though her voice lacked any conviction and caused Carmen’s eyes to narrow.

“And I bet Mary’s gonna be waiting for us, insults armed and ready?” Carmen retorted with a sigh, “Thanks, but no thanks.” She turned to leave. There was no doubt in her mind that Mary had put Dakota up to this. She most likely told her to act like a schoolgirl with a crush. Carmen wouldn’t put it past the blonde queen bitch.

“F-fuck Mary!” Dakota spontaneously exclaimed, leading to several passers-by pausing and staring at the tanned half-German teen. She fixed her gaze on Carmen and clenched her hands into tight fists as her lips pouted and quivered. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to renounce Mary. All manner of horrors flashed before her eyes, since she knew what Mary was capable of, however this outweighed her fear. Or matched it at the very least.

Carmen twisted around and stared at her in blatant shock. No one dared say a word against Mary, not where people could hear and tattle on them. She glanced about and noticed people leaning and whispering to one another. Some nodded in agreement but quickly scampered away for fear of being noticed. One girl had her phone out, fingers furiously tapping at the screen. Carmen had little doubt that she was texting Mary or someone in her group.

“Come on,” Carmen ushered Dakota to follow her, striding down the corridor and ignoring everyone’s eyes. Ryuka’s included. She didn’t look back to check if Dakota was following, trusting her classmate not to linger. Her thoughts dwelled on the possibilities of what was to come, most prominently whether this abrupt decision of Dakota’s had anything to do with the Futa Note. A cursory glance to Ryuka didn’t give any hints. The Seikogami remained jubilantly stoic.

The bathroom door locked with a sharp click, echoing throughout the room. Vacant save for two people and an unseen deity. Dakota stood at the wall opposite the door, hands clasped nervously in front of her as she worried over them, while Carmen faced away from her. Silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft stream of footsteps and conversations from outside. The gentle thrum did little to alleviate Dakota’s nerves, however.

Her lips parted to speak, but quickly shut themselves. Words failed to form on her tongue, as if the muscle had gone numb. Dakota tried to swallow whatever blocked her throat, yet still her breaths seemed laboured. The air felt heavy. And each passing second only added to the weight.

Carmen broke the silence first, “What do you want?” Her voice seemed strained, as if she, too, felt the density of the air or the startling sense of numbness or the obstruction in her throat. The only difference between her and Dakota was that Carmen could speak through it.

“I…” Dakota could barely choke out the syllable. Even that single utterance made her cringe in discomfort. An icy shudder ran down her spine as Carmen turned to face her, eyebrow arched expectantly and her lips set in a terse line, “It’s…” Dakota clenched her hands into fists to cease their quivering. It wasn’t pressure she felt, or not akin to the kind she felt when speaking against Mary, but a sense of anxiety. What if this went horribly? What if Carmen completely beat her down? Dakota felt her lower lip quiver and tightened her jaw. She had to try at least.

“I think I’m, uh,” Dakota wanted to sink into her clothes and hide from Carmen’s piercing blue eyes, “Gay, and um…” she trailed off once again at the spark of surprise in Carmen’s gaze, feeling her stare almost peer into her soul. Dakota took a deep breath to steady herself, “And I’d like to go out with you!” She blurted abruptly. The words all jumbled together, tripping over one another and bleeding into the next.

“What?” Carmen blankly questioned.

“Um… I’d like to go out, uh, with you?” Dakota repeated, enunciating each word as best she could despite the trembling of her entire body, and looked down and away from Carmen, blushing fiercely as she awaited the honour student’s response.

Carmen’s lips fell apart as she took an incidental step back. She glanced about the room in search of Mary or her gang or a hidden camera. This couldn’t be happening. Dakota was straight as could be, that much was obvious from the times Carmen had overheard her bragging about the men she’d slept with. Yet, for all her common sense, Carmen couldn’t quell the feeling that Dakota was being truthful. And if that were true, then why? Why did she suddenly come out? To Carmen of all people?

She glanced to her side, where Ryuka hovered with a mischievous grin on her face. Carmen then peeked down at her bag and recalled the Futa Note’s rules, one of which stated that the owner would become their victims’ source of sexual desire. It hadn’t made any mention of changing their orientation or personality. Nor that it would take effect so quickly. Ryuka chuckled as if reading Carmen’s thoughts, a possibility the human couldn’t outright deny. Carmen ignored the Seikogami and fixed her gaze once more on Dakota.

What should she say? What could she say? Carmen, for one of the few times in her life, couldn’t think of anything.

Dakota remained silent as she awaited the response. Her hands clenched and unclenched or worriedly gripped one another, unable to stay still yet unwilling to move from where she stood. She had to hear what Carmen would say. Just the past twenty-four hours had been torment to Dakota. She had been straight for all her life, having lost her virginity years ago, but now she wasn’t sure. Rather, she doubted she had ever really been interested in guys.

Just last night she had gone online to look at porn, both because she had felt pent up and to test herself. Her body remembered how it had enjoyed her times looking at such debauched videos and grew hot in anticipation, only for her desire to run cold when she clicked on the first video. It was simple and vanilla, a guy and girl fucking roughly with a little spanking. Nothing that would turn her off. Dakota had defiantly began touching herself to the imagery, but quickly realised it was doing nothing for her. Watching a strong, muscular physique ramming against a curvy, delicate woman and hearing him grunt and groan in pleasure while she faked it… did nothing for Dakota.

She had spent the next hour looking at all her favourite genres, even branching into what she disliked. But none did anything for her. Until she came to a stop at lesbian. Dakota had only entertained the thought of being with another girl when she was drunk or high, and usually when she was being encouraged by her friends, but never when sober. And never had she wanted to watch it either.

Regardless, she was growing more and more frustrated by her lack of relief. Dakota opened the first video and settled in to watch with a keen lack of interest, ready to gain nothing from the experience and simply go to bed without cumming even once. Only after she noticed the time did she retire to her bed, her juices drooling from her pussy and remnants of her cum dripping down her shaft. An indominable sense of satisfaction pervaded her mind and body, as she had laid down. Her thoughts overflowed with the visages of nubile girls and Carmen, falling asleep to their dancing figures.

Dakota could still feel her desire even as she stood before Carmen. The honour student wasn’t special in appearance, a far cry from the augmented beauty Mary possessed or Ashley’s natural endowments, but something about her all but sang to Dakota. Was it her perfume? Her hair? Her face? Her body?

Dakota mentally shook her head, telling herself that it couldn’t be any of those. Her friends all had Carmen soundly defeated in each aspect, save for her intellect. That couldn’t be what attracted Dakota to her. Brains were nice, but they were never part of Dakota’s judgements. Was that a mistake, she wondered. The nights she had spent getting railed by horny guys trailed through her mind, and she knew she had enjoyed herself, yet couldn’t help but ponder if she had missed out on something.

Each of those nights had been an act of spontaneous passion. Sometimes not even that. She would just get drunk and fool around with some guy. They never paid her needs any real mind. And that had worked for her. She belonged because of it. Mary and Gretchen did it all the time, enjoying themselves as they saw fit. Dakota needed to be like them, then she could hang around the two. So why was she in the bathroom, coming out and confessing to Carmen?

“What’s wrong with me?” Dakota whimpered, shattering the void of silence that had settled over the two. She slid to the floor, legs buckling under the inconsistency of her own psyche, and felt moisture brim in her eyes. Even the cold of the tiled ground couldn’t distract her. Nor could the fact that she was showing such a vulnerable side of herself to someone.

Her father would be livid to hear his daughter had shown weakness. What about Mary? Dakota was already on the verge of being forgotten by the group. If someone told them what she had said earlier… a sob broke her thoughts. They would know by now. It was a miracle that she hadn’t received a text or call from Mary yet. That is, if Mary would even ‘honour’ her with her voice.

“Everything’s fucked,” Dakota choked. A tear fell from her face to the floor below, where another quickly joined it. Her school life was over. She’d be lucky to avoid Mary for the day, let alone until graduation. And what would she do when they finally met again? Mary was petty and cruel. She’d return Dakota’s sleight a hundred-fold and still feel dissatisfied. They’d find her cock for sure and tell the school, the city, the entire world if they could.

“Hey,” Carmen’s voice pierced the abyss before it could fully blanket Dakota’s thoughts. The half-German looked up, seeing the honour student standing over her, worry painted across her features and a glimmer of something else in her eye. Dakota couldn’t hope to discern it, however, as her own vision blurred with tears.

“It’s not the end,” Carmen continued, crouching down until she was only slightly above Dakota, “I know how it feels. Your friends will judge you for it, ostracise you. Maybe turn full traitor and bully you. But that’s good.”

“What?” Dakota sputtered. Confusion swept away her fear as she frowned up at Carmen, unable to process what she meant.

“Friends don’t abandon you because you change,” Carmen explained. She hadn’t had many friends when it became apparent to others that she was gay, but they had all turned tail and left her. In hindsight, she could understand their decision; it was natural to protect oneself by joining the majority. But at the time it had hurt worse than any scrape or bruise. She kept to herself from then on, refusing to let people outside of her family get close.

Dakota wiped at her eyes and fixed her gaze squarely on Carmen’s. There was no hint of a lie in her face, nor a glimmer of glee at seeing the state Dakota was in. Yet, Dakota lowered her head as if incapable of looking Carmen in the eye.

“It… it’s not just that,” Dakota said, but trailed off.

“Dakota…” Carmen interrupted, taking a deep breath, “I’m not interested in dating right now… But, um, if you need someone to talk to, then I’m here.”

“Carmen,” Dakota spoke up and slightly raised her head, “Can I… show you something? It’s not just being… gay… I…” She felt like her heart was in her throat and her tongue felt like sand paper.

“The door’s locked. You and I are the only ones in here,” Carmen reminded her.

“O-okay,” Dakota breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper, and stood up.

Carmen stepped back to give her room. She knew what Dakota was talking about, having been the cause of it, but couldn’t quell the sense of excitement she felt. This girl, who had once revelled in mocking others, was naught but a hollow shell of what she once was. But that wasn’t what gave rise to Carmen’s anxious excitement. It was the fact that Dakota was about to willingly reveal what should have been her, now, darkest secret. Carmen wondered if this was Dakota’s actual personality, rather than the self-assured persona everyone else saw.

Embarrassing was too soft a word for Dakota. Her fingers dug into her skirt, nails threatening to tear through the fabric, as her heart pounded against her ribs like a jackhammer or a prisoner attempting to escape. Sweat coated her palms as she tried to clean them on her pants, to no effect. Carmen’s eyes were on her, she could feel them practically licking across her skin, leaving behind burning trails of anxious excitement, as they made their way over her body to focus on her crotch. Dakota glanced up and saw a knowing glimmer in Carmen’s gaze.

Did she know? If so, then how? Dakota choked back a whimper as she felt a still alien sensation of something shifting within her pants, brushing against her panties and sending startling jolts across her nerves. Why did the thought of Carmen having that kind of power over her send a flush of warmth down Dakota’s body?

There was no sense in continuing to hide it any further. Dakota undid her belt, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt, took a deep breath, then looked to Carmen. For what could have been minutes, she stood, frozen in that perfect state of impending undress. The door was locked, the windows were too small to climb through. No escape. Feeling that she was without options, Dakota pushed down her skirt. She clenched her hands together against her stomach and straightened her posture.

She couldn’t hide anymore. Her skirt, long as it was, no longer shielded her secret from the eyes of her sudden crush, who stared at her without any hint of judgement in her gaze. As if she had yet to understand what she saw. Nevertheless, Dakota couldn’t so much as glance toward Carmen, as her cheeks burned hotly in anticipation of repulsion. It would come any second now; a cry of revulsion, of rejection, slander and then she’d be left alone. Of that, Dakota was certain.

Carmen gulped, the sound painfully audible to her ears, as she stared at what she had made Dakota. If she hadn’t been the cause, she never would have known that Dakota hadn’t been born with her penis, which hung between her thighs over a pair of average sized testicles. Though it didn’t look completely soft, to Carmen’s surprise and minor intrigue.

“It’s ugly, right? I’m a freak?” Dakota whimpered, her blood running cold.

“No,” Carmen whispered then cleared her throat and tried again, “No, you’re not.” She reiterated, louder than before. At her words, Dakota brought her gaze back to Carmen. Shock and happiness warred in the half-German’s gaze, her soft features turning taut with uncertainty.

“Huh?” Dakota couldn’t muster any emotion, only just managing to push out that lone sound.

“You’re not a freak, Dakota,” Carmen repeated and looked her in the eye, refusing to let her gaze wander, “It’s just how you are,” Carmen added, despite knowing better. Her mind flashed to the Futa Note, but kept her stare firmly on Dakota.

“But… but I am. I’m a… was, a girl,” Dakota struggled to form a coherent sentence, incapable of fully comprehending what Carmen was telling her, “This thing shouldn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?” Carmen asked, feigning ignorance.

“It… it just grew! A couple of days ago… And I, uh…”

“It’s alright,” Carmen soothed, finding herself settling into the usual role she would with Melody when she got hurt or scared, “There’s nothing wrong with you, alright?”


“No!” Carmen snapped, breaking Dakota’s line of thought, “Whatever this is, it’s you now. Got it?” She leaned in closer, refusing to allow Dakota even a second’s reprieve from her gaze. As much as Mary’s cohorts had annoyed Carmen by extorting her from the library, her only solace in the cold months, it pained her to see someone terrified by the changes she had forced upon them. Whether that person was Dakota or otherwise.

“Okay,” Dakota assented with a weak smile, “Just gotta embrace it, right?”

“Exactly,” Carmen beamed, “If people give you shit. Fuck ‘em. Not, uh, literally,” she amended.

Dakota giggled, “I’d be too terrified,” she admitted. They shared a grin, each born from relief.

“You should probably get dressed, we’ve got class in a minute,” Carmen said, hearing the footsteps outside hasten slightly.

“Sure,” Dakota agreed and reached down to pick up her jeans and panties, “I’ve still got it as well, you know?”

“What?” Carmen inquired, startled by the sudden statement.

“My, uh, vagina. It’s still there. I’m not like, um, ‘shemales’. I think,” Dakota glimpsed up at Carmen, shyly, before adding, “Do you want to see?”

Carmen felt her body go rigid with indecision. Of which there should be none. She should simply tell Dakota ‘no’ and move on. Yet a rapidly rising voice of desire begged to see, to steal a glance at this willing teen’s pussy. There was no reason for her to. It was just another vagina, one of the millions she could see with a click of button online, even if it would be real and in front of her. It’d be within touching distance. Just like before.

Worse, it would be offered to her entirely of Dakota’s will. Not because of a magical book, but because this person wanted Carmen to see their most intimate of areas. Would Dakota let her take it even further? Carmen’s jaw clenched as she tried to keep all expression from her face, yet knew she let something slip as Ryuka giggled from a corner.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Dakota finally said, catching onto Carmen’s hesitance and pulled up her skirt, though her face was set into a near read-less mask with her eyes downcast and lips firmly pressed together.

“It… it’s not you, Dakota,” Carmen shook her head to clear her thoughts, however she could feel that unwelcome sense of disappointment at not accepting the offer swirl in the back of her mind, “I just, had a bad break-up a while ago. And finals are coming up. And I’ve got work. And…”

“I get it,” Dakota assured her, visibly forcing a smile to grace her lips, “You’re busy. It’s okay.” She righted her belt and strode past Carmen, eyes fixed on the exit.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Carmen quickly reminded her, “If you need to talk. I’m here.”

“I know,” Dakota said with a more genuine grin and left. Carmen watched her and, when she was out of sight, let out a heavy sigh.

“That’s who you transformed,” Ryuka remarked as she floated over to hover behind Carmen, shaking her head in disappointment, “But that was so vanilla. Why not something more exciting?”

“I was only testing it out,” Carmen defended herself, before realising what that implied, “And I’m not about to change anyone else. I just wanted to know what the book did. And now I do, so that’s it. No more.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?” Ryuka questioned. One of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched incredulously. Carmen bit her lip and headed out just as the bell rang, its shrill tone signalling another lesson of absolute boredom. With a sigh, Ryuka followed while she contemplated what could be done to alleviate this dullness. Perhaps Carmen would allow her to see those ‘computers’ again? Or would she show her something more interesting than that? Ryuka supposed that such wonders would be worth the torment of these dreadful classes.

Those thoughts quickly vacated her mind as she reclined in the air, blowing her hair and idly playing with her tits in a vain effort to alleviate her boredom. Yet even her sensitive nipples did little to excite her. Carmen had clearly gained a new level of resistance to the Seikogami, as she kept her head and eyes low, focused entirely on her notes. Ryuka feared she couldn’t even tease the human anymore, despite their brief time together.

Carmen refrained from showing any acknowledgement toward Ryuka, presuming that the deity thrived on attention. However, such a feat was becoming increasingly difficult as the deity played with herself, not caring in the slightest that, if not for her apparent invisibility, she would be seen by over a dozen students. Shameless barely began to describe Ryuka.

At least Carmen could take comfort in the thought that, despite what she had done, she was nothing like the Seikogami. Just a hardworking girl, plain and simple. Albeit one that now possessed a notebook of unimaginable power, though said power was restricted to a book inside her bag. It wouldn’t change anything, she silently vowed. She would ignore Ryuka and the temptation that came with her new power. Nothing in her life had permanently changed.

The same could not be said for Dakota. An icy chill ran down her spine, brought on by the frigid air swirling around her in the breeze, as freezing cold tendrils slithered into her clothes and sank into her pores. She leaned against the wall outside the school’s main building, rubbing her arms for warmth. Dakota cupped her hands together and blew into them, rubbing her palms together. At least the canopy above her gave some respite from the soft rainfall. How did Carmen walk in this weather?

Dakota had skipped her final class of the day, since she shared it with Mary. The blonde rarely attended lessons, only doing so when the principal demanded that she do so. Until Gretchen had a few words with her, then everything was back to the way it always was. It didn’t matter though, since Dakota couldn’t risk seeing Mary. Not when she was so fragile.

She lifted her head at the shrill toll of the final bell. Finally, Dakota thought with another exhale into her hands. Any longer and she feared her toes would fall off. Students filed out of the building quickly, talking excitedly about what they would do or cursing the weather, and ignoring the tan girl standing just off to the side. She eyed them all carefully, watching for Mary or Carmen.

The latter’s face was still fresh in her mind. That look of indecision both gave Dakota hope and filled her with dread, born from the fact that Carmen had barely batted an eye at seeing her dick, yet became so uncomfortable at the mention of seeing her pussy. It made sense, she told herself, Carmen was a lesbian through and through. Dakota would at least make a new friend if nothing else.

Carmen’s face popped up from amongst the crowd. She was taller than most of the girls around her, making it a simple matter to spot and converge on her. Dakota waded through the horde of teens, keeping her eyes straight ahead for fear of meeting someone’s gaze. They would judge her for what she said earlier, knowing full well that she was outside of Mary’s good graces. That made her the perfect target for slighted girls to vent their anger. The news had certainly circulated by now, Dakota thought and darted her gaze about in search of Mary. No sign of her.

She breathed a sigh as she finally caught up to Carmen, “Hi,” Dakota said chipperly, stepping in front of the honour student to garner her attention.

“Oh, hi,” Carmen returned the greeting with a nervous smile, though didn’t stop walking. Dakota settled into pace beside her.

“Can I walk with you? Just for a while?” Dakota glanced back in worry and Carmen briefly followed her gaze.

“Uh, sure, I guess?” Carmen relented with a shrug, knowing that Dakota would need a friend in any capacity. A pubescent girl just coming to terms with their sexuality was an unstable combination at the best of times, let alone a girl who had become a futanari overnight. And it might be nice to have a companion for once, Carmen thought.

“Thanks. I didn’t wanna hang around, you know… because of Mary,” Dakota admitted and glanced about furtively, spying Zoey standing head and shoulders above the throng of students, meaning Mary was nearby. Sure enough, Dakota spied the blonde leader a mere moment later and brought her eyes back to the world in front of her.

“Agreed,” Carmen nodded and hastened her pace slightly, practically able to feel Dakota’s eagerness to vacate the campus grounds as fast as possible.

“Carmen!” Stacy exclaimed warmly and enveloped the teen in a hug.

“Hi, Stacy,” Carmen returned the embrace with a soft grunt. She was used to being randomly greeted with hugs, even looked forward to them after coming in from the cold. Warmth seemed to radiate from Stacy, far better than any heater could.

“Who’s your friend?” Stacy asked, pulling back with a nod to Dakota, who stood in the doorway, clearly out of place.

“That’s Dakota,” Carmen introduced, “She’s having a rough time, so I told her to stop by.”

“How thoughtful,” Stacy remarked with a grin, which she immediately fixed onto Dakota, “What can I get you, Dakota?” The teen jumped at the question, having preoccupied herself with some of the Christmas decorations adorning the windows.

“Um, what would you recommend?” Dakota recovered, visibly flustered by how warmly she was being taken to by this stranger, whose smile persisted as she gestured to a seat.

“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll whip something up,” Stacy didn’t wait to see whether the teen followed her suggestion and simply turned around, walking into the back of the small coffee shop. When she was out of sight, Carmen turned to Dakota and shrugged.

“She’s a bit, uh, exuberant,” she apologised and followed her employer, leaving Dakota to settle in.

The bronze-skinned teen glanced about the quaint setting. Four tables occupied the space, each with just four chairs a piece, yet most were occupied by snugly dressed men and women all sipping at steaming cups of coffee. Perhaps it was Dakota’s imagination, but they all seemed to wield an air of contentment, occasionally sighing after a drink. The tapping of fingers against keyboards combined with the soft sounds of a kitchen at work to aid in the cosy ambiance, as if the shop were made to be relaxing. Dakota almost laughed at herself, recalling that the sign read ‘Soothe the Soul’.

Indeed, it lived up to the name. Just breathing in the air, filled with the smooth aroma of coffee and chocolate, with a few baked goods intermixed, put her at ease. Dakota sank into a free chair on a table, the only other resident of which was a young woman with a laptop in front of her and earphones plugged in. Her muscles relaxed immediately, as if forgetting the stress of the previous two days.

She saw Carmen return from the back and took her place behind the counter. It was clear that she would have little to do, as most of the foot traffic either ignored the shop or glimpsed inside only to see how small it was and moved on. Stacy, however, paid them little mind as she walked up to Dakota, cup in hand and smile still highlighting her gentle features.

“Here you are,” Stacy set the cup down before Dakota, “On the house.”

“Really?” Dakota looked up in astonishment to see the store’s apparent owner nod, “Thanks,” she tried to pour her gratitude in her voice, though she doubted it carried properly. Nevertheless, Stacy kept her smile as she replied.

“It’s no trouble. I like to help people. But, if you really want to show your gratitude, you can drink that,” Stacy nodded to the cup and turned to leave.

Dakota was far from a coffee lover. The only time she had even attempted to drink the beverage had been to cure a hangover, and had resulted in her getting more closely acquainted with her toilet bowl than she had ever wanted. This cup of what she knew should be a bitter liquid, however, smelled far more appealing than the mess she had concocted years ago. A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she recalled how she had messed up a cup of instant coffee. She doubted that this Stacy woman would be impressed by such a feat.

Nonetheless, there was little sense in denying the generous offer. Dakota picked up the cup carefully, feeling the heat wafting from it, and blew gently on the liquid. She glanced up to see Carmen watching her. The honour student smiled encouragingly, her eyes urging Dakota to take a sip. There was no reason not to at least sample the aromatic beverage. Dakota took a long breath through her nose, sighing at the pleasant scent, then put the cup to her lips and took a short sip.

“Damn, that’s good,” she gasped and took another, more complete mouthful to truly taste it. Her first drink wasn’t a hoax, as her taste buds danced with the strong, yet somehow calming, flavours. The warmth spread rapidly down her throat, through her oesophagus and settled into her belly, which soon radiated the heat throughout her body. She released a subtle sigh and set the cup down, relaxing her posture and resting her arms on the table.

Across the room, Carmen shot Stacy an assuring grin. Her employer exhaled in relief. It never failed to amuse Carmen, watching her boss get antsy over a new customer. The teen knew better, however, having seen patrons sample the coffee and practically fall in love. She never understood exactly what Stacy did to her product that made it so delightfully soothing, but didn’t desire to. Not unless she intended to open her own coffee shop, a laughable concept to her. She had her sights set much higher, after all.

It only took a few minutes for Dakota to finish her cup. She stared down at the empty mug, a slight frown furrowing her brow and a pout on her lips. Carmen smirked and asked for another cup of the same brew, which she then delivered to Dakota herself.

“How you doing?” Carmen inquired, glancing about and seeing that no one would be in any immediate need.

“I used to hate coffee,” Dakota answered with a grin and the two shared a brief chuckle.

“I did too, at first,” Carmen admitted, making a sour expression as she recalled the first time she had tried it, “But I got used to it.”

“Why?” Dakota laughed. If she didn’t like something, she would simply give up on it, seeing no sense in tormenting herself when she could move onto greener pastures.

“Had to for exams. It was the only way I could stay up and cram as much studying in as possible,” Carmen grimaced at the memory, “Then I realised that I was actually screwing myself up more than anything. Take it from me, coffee doesn’t make a good study partner.”

“I never study anyway,” Dakota said with a nervous giggle.

“Why not?” Carmen took another look around and, deciding that she had plenty of time, pulled out a chair to sit down.

“It just never really seemed important. I guess?” Dakota shrugged and took a sip from her new cup of coffee, before recoiling at the molten burn on her tongue, “Fuck, that’s hot!” She rasped and fanned at her tongue.

“Don’t you want to do anything? When you graduate I mean,” Carmen frowned. She knew that Mary’s group weren’t known as the smartest people on campus, but she hadn’t expected them to so… disillusioned about the very idea of studying. Or perhaps she was applying her own standards on others?

“I do… maybe? I mean, that’s still like a year away.”

“Actually, just under half a year,” Carmen corrected her.

Dakota shrugged, “I’ll decide when the time comes.”

“I’m gonna be successful,” Carmen said after a brief pause and looked out of the window, watching stray pedestrians walk by after long days at work, clearly displeased to have their time used in such a manner, “Not just an office job or anything like that. I’m gonna beat out everyone else and sit at the top of the food chain.”

“So, you don’t know what you’re doing either?” Dakota arched an incredulous eyebrow.

Carmen shook her head, “That’s why I’m learning everything I can. Something will catch my eye and I’ll climb to the top of whatever that is,” she fixed her gaze on Dakota, who locked eyes with her, “And nothing’s gonna stop me.”

“Yeah,” Dakota breathed, feeling a familiar heat suffusing her cheeks, “I believe you.”

“Carmen! Got a slight problem back here!” Stacy called out, though her voice wasn’t nearly distressed enough to rush Carmen.

“Coming!” The teen called back and stood up, “I’ll see you later, Dakota,” she said and shot her a smile in parting, before rushing to the back. Dakota watched her leave, eyes lowering to fix themselves on her classmate’s rear – though it wasn’t exceptional, only a slight curve from her waist, yet it captivated her – until it went out of sight. A sigh tore itself from Dakota’s lips as she took a long drink from her coffee.

Her crush was beginning to make sense now. Carmen lacked the physical appeal that Mary or Ashley or Zoey had, however she made up for that in droves with her personality, which Dakota could only wonder at. There was something so powerful in her, like an indominable force that would flatten any obstacle in the path to its goal. And Dakota wanted to see more of it. She could feel the soothing heat wane in the face of a more sensual warmth at the thought of what Carmen could be capable of.

At least she would have ample ammunition to fantasise about that night, Dakota thought.

She proved herself right hours later with her fingers wrapped tight around her throbbing shaft. Streaks of thick seed dirtied her chest and face, running slowly – defiant to gravity’s sway – down her body. The musky scent of her cock filled the air around her, within which faint undertones of her pussy drifted through her nostrils. Both were overwhelmed, however, by the odd aroma of the cum splattered across her.

And yet, for all the semen that coated her, Dakota couldn’t even think of stopping her movements, even after cumming twice in the past hour. Pre-cum streamed from her prick to coat her fingers, slickening her actions and spurring her to an even greater orgasmic fervour. Her moans refused to be silenced even by the small throw pillow she bit into.

In her mind, she saw only one thing; Carmen. She could see her stripping, mind filling in the blanks, and baring her body to the recently outed lesbian. Dakota felt her cock pulse harder as the spectral Carmen crouched between her legs, leaned down and, with a commanding look, wrapped her lips around the tanned spire of Dakota’s dick. That was all it took. With a barely muffled shout, Dakota thrust her hips into the air and went rigid.

Cum arched high in the air and fell back upon her with heavy splats. Her mouth fell open, all sound cut off in her sheer ecstasy, and the pillow slipped free just as her ejaculate struck her. Thick droplets landed in her mouth, but went unregistered in the face of the blinding sensations. Whether by her unconscious work or simple coincidence, not a drop landed on her bed, every potent rope painting her bronzed-flesh. Spurt after spurt arched from her prick, dwindling until milky streams wept from her tip.

When her orgasm finally receded to a simple sense of completion, Dakota released her prick. Almost two hours had passed with her masturbating its above-average length, milking out three separate orgasms. And none of them from her pussy, though she could feel her juices against her once cum-laden balls, the contents of which now coated her face, chest and belly in filthy warmth. A dozy smile spread across her face and rested there until sleep claimed her.

Carmen laid in her own bed with the futa note in her hand. Her sister and Ryuka were asleep, although Carmen wasn’t sure if that was true for the latter. She couldn’t sleep, however, as her mind constantly ran over the events of the day. Again, and again. Carmen eventually took out the notebook and looked through its empty pages.

How many names could she even write in it? Would she ever run out of pages? Carmen glanced to Ryuka’s hovering form and sighed. It’d be nice if the sex goddess would explain everything in detail. Carmen paused on the only page she had written on and pondered how different Dakota had become. For the better, Carmen told herself with a groggy nod. She slid the book into her bag and rolled onto her side. At least the book was good for something.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 5 - Pushed too Far

Carmen frowned as she brushed her hair. It was longer than it should be since her haircut a few weeks ago, brushing against her shoulders, and darker too, as if it were still damp from last night’s bath. She shrugged it off, concluding that puberty was to blame, and finished readying herself for the day. A part of her looked forward to returning to school for more than just resuming her education. Dakota would be there. Her first friend since high school began.

The honour student glanced down at her desk. It was a mess, with a mix of hers and Melody’s possessions and work scattered about in piles. They kept to their sides, that being their only attempt at organisation. Just below the surface, in one of the few intact drawers, rested the Futa Note. Melody knew not to pry, despite her persistent curiosity, yet Carmen feared the day that the book was discovered. How could she even explain something like that?

Carmen shook the thoughts off and turned her attention to her sister’s bed. Little had changed over the Christmas holiday. Melody’s side of the room sported some of the few festivities their family had left, wreaths of tinsel and plastic snowmen brightened the otherwise dank area. A ‘new’ teddy bear laid atop the thin covers. It was missing one eye and had several patches of haphazard stitches to keep its lumpy stuffing inside. Despite that, Melody was overjoyed when she got the present.

Carmen smiled in recollection. Near enough all her earnings went toward future tuition fees, while the rest assisted her mother in keeping their dilapidated roof and putting half decent food on the table. There was barely enough to celebrate such occasions as Christmas or Melody’s birthday. But it was worthwhile just to see her little sister’s face light up, which, in turn, brightened their mother’s.

“Shouldn’t you hurry up? You’ll be late… unless you want to have some fun?” Ryuka teased, almost seeming to condense into existence behind Carmen, and pressed her ludicrous breasts into her back. The sex god giggled at the obvious shudder of resistance that passed through the human.

“Stop that,” Carmen muttered, though she had to strain to say the words. This creature had become both an object of her lust and a severe nuisance to her. Ryuka’s body was something no human would ever match, no matter how many insane surgeries they had, particularly her cock. If not for that egregious aspect, Carmen wondered if she could even resist the Seikogami’s constant flirting, or if she’d even want to. Ryuka was, in a sense, the epitome of every perverted myth in human history.

“Ugh,” Ryuka groaned and rolled onto her back, hovering in mid-air, while her breasts jiggled with the momentum, “You never wanna have fun.”

“I do,” Carmen defended herself, working to fasten her bra, “But after I can afford to. If we’re still together after I’m rich and powerful, we can have all the fun you want.”

“Oh?” Ryuka peeped, tilting her head to peer down at the human, “And when will that be?”

“Anywhere from a year to never,” Carmen snickered, then grunted as she strained to hook her bra, “Great. Must’ve shrunk.” She sighed and tossed it aside, then tried another one, but to the same results.

“That’s just cruel,” Ryuka pouted.

“That’s life,” Carmen retorted, growing frustrated that her meagre selection of brasseries all seemed to have shrunk, “You’re kidding me?” She groaned and let the last one fall in defeat. Going braless wouldn’t be that noticeable under her sweater, especially with her small bust and nipples. Ryuka chuckled softly at her dilemma.

Dakota stood by the school gates with her hands clasped together for warmth and comfort. She hadn’t seen Carmen since the holidays began, though that had done nothing to dilute the feelings she had towards her. If anything, the separation made them stronger. The young half-German was hard pressed to recall a day in the past month that she hadn’t masturbated. A tight smile teased her lips at the memories, as did a flush of warmth in her cock.

She was used to it now. After the initial shock and sudden awakening to the fact that she was gay, Dakota found she liked having her dick. It was a whole new world of sensations for her to experience. Her jeans grew tight when her member swelled slightly. She quickly tensed and turned her thoughts away from her masturbation marathon. Though it had felt amazing when she jerked off and fingered herself at the same time. Dakota realised she was in an uphill battle and started toward the restroom.

“Guten tag, mein dyke!” A voice called that otherwise sounded friendly and teasing. It was cold to Dakota, however, enough that even the wind seemed to soften at its appearance. She looked around and saw Mary, accompanied by her apostles as usual, walking in her direction with a faux smile plastered to her face.

“Waiting for your girlfriend, eh, Dyke-kota?” Mary mocked, giggling at what she must’ve thought was clever word play. The others all laughed, though only Gretchen seemed to understand the sheer genius of her words.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dakota answered, but immediately realised her mistake.

“Aw, did you two break up? Maybe she realised that a two-faced bitch like you,” Mary poked her long-nailed finger into Dakota’s shoulder, pushing her point home, “Will always be a fucking cunt.”

“Shut up!” Dakota shouted and pushed her away. For a moment, elation coursed through her veins. She had wanted to do that for years, usually with a slap or punch, but this would suffice. Then she caught the baleful glares aimed at her, along with a pitiful glance from Zoey.

“You know something, Dakota?” Mary said her name like a cobra would spit venom, “I think you could use a makeover.”

Dakota made no attempt at bravado. She sprinted away, the small army hot on her tracks. It was futile, though, as Zoey quickly overtook and blocked her path. Mary came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, though it felt like death’s clutches with the malice that oozed from her skin. There was nothing she could do. Fighting back might work for a brief time, but that would only escalate things. Dakota hung her head and resigned herself to her fate.

“Well, girls?” Mary ran a nail along her former ally’s neck, “Let’s make sure everyone understands Dakota. We wouldn’t want a man hitting on the little lesbo, now would we?”

Carmen walked briskly down the sidewalk. Her breaths came in misty clouds that dissipated as she strode into them, as if parted by her presence. She would pretend that she was a queen and the fog were her subjects as a child. It always made her dad smile, especially when she tried to look regal. Now, she was just another person as last night’s snowfall crunched underfoot.

She stepped up the pace after glancing at her cracked watch. It wouldn’t do to be tardy on the first day back. Carmen weaved through the early morning commuters gracefully, drawing on the experience of doing so since she was in middle-school, and maintained her impatient tempo. The cold air nipped at her skin and the breeze tugged on her hood, trying to steal her defences. It eventually faltered and left her alone.

A vibration in her breast pocket made her pause for a moment. She pulled out her sorely outdated phone and saw a message from Dakota; ‘meet me in the bathrooms, please?’ Carmen replied and hastened her pace. Dakota didn’t just make requests like that, usually just stating what she wanted to do, then adding a question mark a moment later. Something was probably wrong.

Less than a month. That’s how long she had known Dakota, but the girl had grown on Carmen in that time. She was nervously excitable, always uncertain of what she should do, but persistently acted like she was overjoyed by it. And Carmen enjoyed that aspect of her. It was different to Melody, a breath of fresh air so to speak. Not to mention that Dakota was a hopeless flirt.

It was flattering and annoying in equal measures. Carmen would be a liar if she said that she didn’t enjoy the compliments, but they got in the way when she was trying to focus. At random, Dakota would either creep up behind her or send her a text, often praising Carmen in some way. She was almost as bad as Ryuka. She would have been, if not for the sex goddess’s inherent advantages.

Though Carmen had to wonder if Dakota’s infatuation with her was due to the Futa Note. It had said that the owner becomes the desire of those transformed by it, but Dakota seemed fine with their platonic relationship, aside from the persistent flirtation. Carmen frowned to herself, unable to quell the sense that this new friendship was brought on solely by the notebook. If that was the case, then she had practically taken Dakota against her will.

“That’s a pretty intense face you’ve got there,” Ryuka noted, leaning around Carmen to peer at her thoughtful expression, “Don’t tell me you’re still trying to figure out the Futa Note?”

“Everything has an explanation,” Carmen stated, barely glancing at the Seikogami, as she stepped onto the school campus. She had learned it was better to try and placate the goddess, otherwise she would complain and whine like a small dog. Only it was worse, because Ryuka’s version of whining was to tease Carmen with her outrageous curves. Studying became impossible at those stages, for disregarding the Seikogami could only do so much for so long. The student blushed slightly at the memory of how she would masturbate after those occasions.

“Dakota?” Carmen called when she marched into the girl’s bathroom. There was no sense in worrying about why she and Dakota were friends now. The past couldn’t be changed. If it could then Carmen had a clear idea of what she would do.

“I-in here,” Dakota answered meekly, tapping on the furthest stall door, then opened it slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Carmen inquired as she entered. A glimpse of Dakota answered her question immediately, and gave rise to another, “What the hell happened?”

Dakota’s shirt was torn, made to expose her shoulders and belly, on both of which crude letters and drawings marred her skin. They depicted her new sexuality in the worst way possible, with arrows pointing to her breasts and crotch, asking for girls to use them as they wished. Her hair was a mess and her makeup resembled a toddler’s handiwork. She still had her skirt on, but it was ripped in half, almost exposing her cock-stuffed panties, while her leggings had massive holes in them.

“Mary,” Dakota stated, smiling wanly up at Carmen, “I pushed her and…”

“That fucking bitch,” Carmen growled, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She went and grabbed a handful of paper towels and wetted them, then returned to clean off the filthy words. A line even said, ‘suck my tits and I’ll pay you’. In almost any other situation, Carmen would struggle not to stare at Dakota. Especially her cleavage. Unlike Ryuka, Dakota’s breasts were the perfect size to be cupped.

“Thanks,” Dakota said, unable to think of anything more.

“No problem,” Carmen assured her, cleaning away the last obscenity, “They didn’t see your, um…” Dakota shook her head, “Well, that’s a bit of relief, at least.”

“Yeah,” Dakota nodded with a terse grin, “I’ll have to go home and change, though.”

“How far away do you live?” Carmen inquired, both curious and worried about how long Dakota would have to walk around like that.

“I normally get a ride from my mom, but she’s at work. So is Dad.”

“My place isn’t that far. A couple of minutes by bus.” Carmen offered without thought.

“I-I couldn’t,” Dakota laughed, trying to brush it aside, “Well, I could, but wouldn’t it be a bit awkward for you?”

“No more awkward than the time you showed me your dick,” Carmen pointed out.

“Guess so,” Dakota assented with an appreciative smile.

“Come on,” Carmen said, lifting the futanari to her feet, “I’m sure I’ll have something that can fit you.”

“Won’t you be late for class?” Dakota fretted, knowing very well that Carmen didn’t want anything to mar her perfect record.

“Shit,” Carmen cursed, then glanced at her watch. There was only two minutes until class started.

“You know,” Ryuka’s voice appeared in Carmen’s ear, deeply seductive, more so than normal, “If you used the Futa Note, you could probably give yourself the means to get there and back in no time. Its full powers are a mystery, after all.” She was right, though the notebook was at home. Carmen shifted her weight slightly and swore her bag felt heavier than it should have. She glanced at the Seikogami, who merely smiled in return.

“Dakota,” Carmen began, sliding her bag down, “Close your eyes, please?”

“Okay… but why?” Dakota asked, despite already shutting her eyes.

“Uh, just because…” Carmen unzipped her bag and peered inside, instantly spying the notebook. She could rewrite Dakota’s entry and make her incredibly fast. Or was the Futa Note incapable of that? Could it just materialise clothing? Its abilities are a complete enigma. All she knew was that it could turn someone into a futanari, but that didn’t require bending the laws of reality, just biology. To do what was needed here would require supernatural logic.

“I’m a Seikogami. A goddess of sex and lust,” Ryuka reminded her, as if peering into Carmen’s thoughts through eye contact alone, “The laws of your world mean nothing to me, nor to the book.”

Carmen glanced at Dakota then back to the notebook. If she used it, then she’d be giving Ryuka exactly what she wanted. Even if it wasn’t a massive change or even one that would be permanent, Carmen knew that the Seikogami wanted her to simply use it. The more she did, the more accustomed she’d become to it. And using that level of power would certainly be addictive. Yet, if she didn’t, then she’d have to either mar her school record or abandon Dakota to go outside alone. Neither scenario sat well with her.

The only other solution was to trade clothes with Dakota. Their bodies were similar enough that it might work, however that posed a risk for Carmen’s record. Stealing someone’s clothes wouldn’t work either. Anything that would endanger Carmen’s future was out of the question, and putting Dakota in a situation where the school could discover her secret suffered the same problem. Mary wouldn’t leave her alone if it was revealed.


Carmen turned at the hushed voice, then saw a hand push a pile of clothes toward her. She crouched and tried to get a look at the person, but only saw a set of trainers as they left. The honour student frowned at the pile and picked them up, then looked to Dakota. They’d likely fit her.

“Uh, you can open your eyes now,” Carmen said.

“Okay. What was that about?” Dakota asked, shooting a disappointed look at Carmen.

“N-nothing. Someone left these,” Carmen said and presented the clothes, drawing the attention away from her unusual request.

“Who?” Dakota asked, lifting the top for inspection. It was a gym shirt, but one that would fit her.

“No idea,” Carmen shrugged, relieved that the attention was off her, “Will it fit?”

“Let’s find out,” Dakota said and stood up, then pulled off the remains of her top. Her torso was almost wholly bared now, only her bra remained to cover her breasts. She was proud of her body, exercising frequently to maintain it, but not enough to lose any softness. Carmen turned away to give her privacy. A mischievous grin spread across Dakota’s face as she stealthily unhooked her bra and rustled the shirt, making it sound like she had gotten dressed, “How do I look?” She folded her arms under her breasts to make them stand out further.

Carmen circled around to face her. A fierce blush burned her cheeks as her eyes took in the view before her. Some of the water from the paper towels lingered on Dakota’s skin, casting a sheen on her tanned skin. There were no tan-lines on her front, though her nipples remained a dusty pink colour. Her breasts curved out from her chest in a nigh-perfect teardrop shape. A confident smirk bolstered the view.

“You like?” Dakota beamed, feeling a rush of warmth flow down through her body, settling into her crotch. Her words seemed to break the hypnotic hold her breasts held. Carmen turned back around.

“Yeah,” she affirmed, just loud enough for Dakota to hear. The tanned teenager smiled to herself and dressed properly.

“Okay, done.”

“You sure?” Carmen questioned cautiously. It took a lot for her to look away last time, to prevent herself from ogling at Dakota’s tempting figure. She rotated her head and glanced toward the other occupant, then fully turned to face her. The shirt was tight and somehow accentuated Dakota’s curves, while her replacement skirt now concealed most of her upper thigh. Her jacket hadn’t been damaged, merely discarded.

“Think it’ll do?” Dakota pulled on her coat and adjusted her shirt, trying to loosen it slightly.

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, “We should go. Class is gonna start soon.” The bell rang as if on cue.

“I hate that sound,” Ryuka grumbled, earning a distasteful eye from Carmen.

Classes resumed like they hadn’t stopped for a second. Very few paid attention in favour of discussing their holidays, where they went, what they got for Christmas, or just trying to avoid working at all. Carmen noted down everything she thought was important, though her mind was distracted. Ryuka snored obnoxiously loud beside her, but that wasn’t the issue.

Carmen fixed her gaze out from the window. The sun was blotted out by grey clouds, dimming the daylight, while small gusts of wind whispered through the sparse trees spread across the campus grounds, their naked branches rustling together. It was a sight she had seen dozens of times before. While it changed with the seasons, the same view was almost always there. She enjoyed the scenery, though, no matter how bright or dull it was. It was consistent.

Yet Carmen’s thoughts lingered with the Futa Note rather than the world outside. What could it do? That was the one question that she wanted answered more than anything, however Ryuka seemed as unaware of its capabilities as Carmen. Or was she trying to lure her into using it? Carmen tightened her jaw and tapped her pen. There were too many unknowns, far more than she would ever like.

However, to unveil those unknowns would require using it. She knew Ryuka wanted that, but for what? Carmen lowered her eyes to her bag, spotting the black front of the Futa Note within it. Her thoughts flitted back to when she first used it, reminding her about the prospects of what the book could do. She refocused her gaze on the teacher at the front.

Life isn’t supposed to be easy, Carmen told herself. Taking the simplest route would inevitably lead to suffering, if several villain origin stories were to be believed, and she wasn’t a cheater. That’s what the Futa Note would turn her into, she determined. Having something that could control others was just the ultimate version of a cheat sheet.

Melody would hate her if she became someone who’d use something like that. As would their mom. Dad, too, Carmen thought and adhered her attention to her notes. It would take a lot to make her willpower crack, more than simple temptation. She glanced at Dakota, who sat on the opposite side of the room and was one of the few actively taking notes. Carmen smiled softly to herself, glad that Dakota was willing to study now. The Futa Note had done some good, but it was best not to tempt fate.

“At this rate, I’ll jinx it,” Carmen laughed quietly to herself. She, then, briefly pondered the idea of whether her thoughts could influence the outcomes of the world around her. Her internal musings quieted, however, when the lesson ended. There wasn’t a point in contemplating what she couldn’t hope to control, Carmen decided.

“How do you do it?” Dakota grumbled on the way to their next class. Students filed around them, falling back into the motions of school life as if Christmas hadn’t happened. Their chatter and footsteps echoed off the walls, drowning out one another’s conversations.


“Yeah,” Dakota sighed, exasperated, “It’s so boring.”

“Maybe think of it as a game?” Carmen postulated, “Everything you write goes toward a level up.”

“I guess,” Dakota murmured, adjusting her bag. She hadn’t carried this much weight on her shoulders in a while, especially not from a bunch of books, “But it’d be a pretty shitty game.”

“Definitely,” Carmen laughed, appreciating the humour after a lesson spent deliberating what might become of her if she gave in and used the Futa Note again. Her laughter ended abruptly when someone stepped into her path. She turned away from Dakota to see Mary. She was backed by Gretchen, Ashley and Zoey. Rachel stood off to the side, behind Zoey.

“What do you want?” Carmen snapped, glaring suspiciously at the lead girl. Mary hadn’t changed in the slightest. Her breasts were as ludicrously round and perky as ever, matched only by her ass. Their falseness accentuated her inscrutable, puffy-lipped smirk. If Carmen’s mother saw this girl, she would be appalled at what someone so young could get away with.

“Why the hostility? I’m just saying hello to an old friend,” Mary said, smiling flippantly, “How’re you doing, Dakota?” She leaned forward, pushing her breasts closer, trying to make it clear how much bigger she was than both the girls before her.

Dakota opened her mouth to respond, but remained silent when Carmen brushed her shoulder. The simple touch was soothing, calming her temper enough to keep her from screaming at Mary. Despite the clear rage still on her face, the fake blonde girl still brandished her dauntless smile. It was an untouchable expression, one that wouldn’t bow to anyone.

“Oh? So, our Dakota is a submissive dyke now?” Mary derided, sneering at the tanned teen.

“Or maybe it’s the other way around?” Gretchen chimed in, “She might be topping Miss Honour Student.”

“Ha! That’d be hilarious!” Mary chortled, echoed half-heartedly by the three who remained quiet.

Carmen shot her eyes to Dakota and began to walk around the other side. A disgruntled growl preceded a loud stomp. Mary, once again, blocked the path. The foot traffic from the other end had stopped completely, either taking a detour or waiting for when it might be safe to pass.

“You don’t fucking ignore me,” Mary snarled lowly, face twisting into an ugly mask of anger that only Carmen and Dakota could see, “Especially not some stupid bitch daughter of a whore.”

“What did you say?” Carmen demanded, hands falling at her sides and clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists.

Mary’s anger mutated into a sadistic leer of victory, “That you’re a stupid bitch? Or the fact that your mom’s a whore?” Carmen’s body visibly tensed, while Mary’s smirk widened, “Though, now that I think about it, a whore would make more money. Is she with a bad pimp? No, your daddy’s dead, right?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmen shouted, every word shaking with rage, and lashed out at Mary. She grabbed her by the collar and pulled, pushing their faces as close as possible. It was impossible, however, due to Mary’s firm implants.

“Go ahead, slut,” Mary beamed, “Make a scene. Gretchen’s mom will just kick you out. Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Carmen,” Dakota laid her hand on Carmen’s shoulder, repeating what she had done moments prior. The honour student lowered her head and relaxed her grip, then walked rapidly down the hall, away from the five girls. She ignored everyone in her path, pushing them aside if they didn’t step back.

“What about class?” Dakota called after her.

“Fuck class,” Carmen growled under her breath. One missed lesson wouldn’t ruin her future, presuming she maintained her grade point average, then it would be fine. Besides, she thought and hefted her bag higher onto her shoulder, there’s something more important right now. She exited the building and turned a corner, out of view, then fell low. The honour student reached into her bag and pulled out the Futa Note.

Her family was the most important thing in her life. They were the only reason she kept studying as hard as she could, otherwise… she didn’t know what she would be like if she didn’t have them to keep her steady. Melody’s future was all that mattered – it was her absolute priority. And Mary had endangered that future by nearly forcing her into expulsion.

Carmen flipped open the notebook and readied her pen. If she did this to Mary, would she reform just as Dakota had? It didn’t matter if she did. The bitch thought she was perfect, the top of the food chain. Someone mere mortals couldn’t match. What would she do when she started growing a cock? Carmen almost laughed, imagining the panic and horror Mary would experience. The point of her pen tapped against the page.

“Carmen?” Dakota’s voice made Carmen freeze.

“What’re you doing here? Class started you know,” Carmen notified her, shutting the book and stuffing it into her bag. She didn’t look up, afraid of what her face might show. The rage hadn’t wholly subsided, though it was dampened by her friend’s presence.

“I never thought you’d get pissed off like that,” Dakota noted, settling down beside her.

“I am human,” Carmen stated, looking aside.

“I know, but still…” Dakota sighed and leaned her head back, shuddering softly. They sat there, neither looking at the other, but at the scenery around them. Silence broke only in the face of the winter breeze, which brushed against the pair, before it, too, fell quiet and paved the way for Dakota, “Wanna make out?”

“What?” Carmen started, head darting to face her. The gently crackling anger from earlier dwindled to an even temper, its fire replaced by a low ember that enflamed her cheeks. Dakota twisted her body around and leaned her face in close, lips only inches away.

“Do you want to kiss? It’ll take your mind off earlier,” Dakota clarified, licking her lips, and placed a hand on Carmen’s thigh, “I want to. But only if you do.”

“Dakota, I…” Carmen tilted her head down, “I appreciate it, but I’m fine now.”

“You sure? Maybe a little peck, just in case?” Dakota wriggled her eyebrows.

“On the cheek,” Carmen relented with a tight grin.

“Good enough, I guess,” Dakota shrugged and leaned in closer, pressing herself into Carmen’s neck, “Think you’ll ever give me a chance?”

“…maybe,” Carmen admitted, eyes falling on her bag once more. The Futa Note almost claimed another victim, all because of Mary’s words. Temptation was easy to resist, at least for now, but anger and impulse were another matter it seemed. If not for Dakota, then she wouldn’t have stopped. Carmen was certain of it. She released her breath slowly, “Thank you.”

“No worries. If you get angry again, come find me. I’ll be more than glad to relieve you,” Dakota teased, pulling back to stand up and offer a hand for Carmen.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Carmen assured her and accepted the offer, coming up to stand beside her friend, though she was painfully aware that Dakota wanted so much more than that. It was a relief just to have her around, however. Especially after going so long without someone to call friend.

The two snuck into the classroom, something Dakota revealed she had experience in. Carmen quickly found herself preoccupied with her earlier lapse in control. No matter how short-lived it was, her pen had met paper. She would’ve used the book if not for Dakota, although she wasn’t without just cause. What would it have made her if she did? A petty cheat?

Carmen buried her head in her textbook. She knew that ignoring her problems was fundamentally wrong, though she had no desire to face them in real life, or her mind. Not after coming so close to failing herself. Though would anyone, even her family, blame her for trying to deal with Mary through the Futa Note? She deserved it, after all. Carmen vehemently chased the thoughts away and fixated herself on her studies until the lunch bell rang.

Carmen and Dakota sat at a table near the cafeteria entrance, idly commenting on the food or discussing their holidays. It was both a joy and a burden to hear about Dakota’s vacation across the country, visiting her relatives one by one and celebrating a small Christmas with each of them. Carmen’s grandparents had all passed on shortly after her father, and neither of her parents had siblings. Sometimes she wondered if her family was cursed.

“Sorry,” Dakota said after finishing a retelling of her holiday, “It sounds like I’m bragging, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” Carmen agreed, “But it’s fine. At least someone had a good time, right?”

“If it’s any consolation, it was a pain trying not to leave and jerk off all the time,” Dakota laughed, soon joined by Carmen. The half-German’s eyes locked themselves to hers, a faint cloud of sincerity falling over them, “Maybe next time you’d like to come with?” An incredulous look urged her to continue, “My mum and dad are planning another family road trip during Spring Break. I doubt they’d mind if you came along.” Dakota clarified.

“Thanks, Dakota, but I don’t think I could leave,” Carmen lamented, “I’ve got work and I have to study, and I need to look after my sister. It sounds like it’d be fun, though.”

“Yeah,” Dakota admitted, “Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” Carmen smiled gratefully.

“What’re you two fine, carpet munchers talking about?” Mary loudly demanded and slid onto the bench alongside Carmen.

“Fuck off, Mary,” the honour student growled in warning.

“Why should I? Last I checked, this wasn’t your table,” Mary snickered, her sycophants soon joining her, “Just pretend we’re not here.” As she spoke, Mary stretched and yawned loudly, while jutting her chest further outward than it already did.

“My pleasure,” Carmen grumbled and returned to her lunch, falling silent. Minutes passed, and the tension remained, balanced atop a knife, though nothing caused it to tip in any direction. Mary and her cohorts talked amongst themselves, seemingly ignoring their former friend and the honour student. It was difficult to drown out their voices, but Carmen managed. She shot Ryuka an almost thankful look; were it not for her pestering antics, Carmen’s patience might’ve ran out by now.

Then Mary decided that the tense balancing act of remaining in her own little world was too difficult. She still had an unsettled score with Carmen. The bitch nearly tore her shirt earlier, not to mention that she dared to talk back. Mary owned this school, she was its queen. Even the principal wouldn’t do a thing to her, not when Gretchen could edit any misdeed into another girl’s fault. And the teachers were more than happy to leave her be after a little ‘talk’ with Ashley.

“Did you hear about that woman on the news?” Mary began, meeting the gaze of everyone in her group, silently ordering them to play along. Zoey and Rachel looked away, but nodded, while Gretchen winked and smirked. Ashley merely smiled.

“Yeah, I think I did,” Gretchen continued, glimpsing Carmen from the corner of her eye, “The one with a genius daughter, right?”

“Yep, but she’s got another one too,” Mary couldn’t resist peeking at the honour student beside her. Carmen kept her head down and eyes shut, focusing on finishing her meal, “A little girl. The thing is, they’re really fucking poor.”

“The mom has to work like five jobs or something, doesn’t she?” Gretchen urged, then caught the evil glimmer in Mary’s eye. It was that glimmer that always preceded a statement that never failed to rile up its target.

“Last I heard, she was selling out her youngest to make end’s meat,” Mary said, looking directly at Carmen with a smile that embodied a predator with its prey trapped. The targeted honour student didn’t respond and merely continued to eat in silence, sparing only a glance at her surroundings. A twitch of annoyance twisted Mary’s full lips into a grimace.

“What was her name, again?” Gretchen pressed.

“Dunno,” Mary recovered with a shrug, her evil eyes glimmering once more, “I think it was Robins.”

“Now I know who you’re talking about. The oldest isn’t even that smart, she just eats out all the teachers for good grades. Think she taught her little sister to do it too?” Gretchen laughed cruelly.

“Nah, it was all their mom. She’s a whore, you know? Not even a smart one. Throw a dollar at her and she’ll…” Mary was cut off when the table shook violently.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Carmen shrieked, leaping to her feet, glowering at Mary with blue eyes that somehow burned like lava, “What the fuck have I ever done to you?”

“You grabbed my shirt,” Mary reminded her, smiling innocently, “And now you’re shouting at me. It’s a surprise, really. I never thought a family of sluts had pride.”

“Before now!” Carmen amended, aware that she was shaking and that her voice could be heard by everyone. It didn’t matter. She had try know why this person felt like she had to be incessantly cruel, “I never said two fucking words to you. Or about you,” Carmen’s lips curled into a mockery of a grin, “Or are you jealous that Dakota’s my friend now?”

“Mary,” Zoey whispered, cowering under Carmen’s ferocity, despite not being its target. Not that it took much to scare her, Mary thought. Her smile widened at the memory of the fake spider she planted in Zoey’s hair a few weeks ago, and how the athletic girl had squealed.

“Shut it,” Mary snapped, cracking her head to face Zoey for a split second, then turned back to Carmen, “Don’t try and bullshit yourself, slut. I don’t give a fuck about that piece of shit. You can have her. She deserves you after all.”

“Wasn’t she your friend?” Carmen blanched at the response. If not for the pronouns, Carmen might’ve thought Mary was referring to an object, “Just what the fuck gives you the right to treat her like?” The honour student, who had only raised her fists for the first time that morning, took a small step toward Mary, eyes intent on mangling that face.

“And what’re you gonna do about it, Miss Whore the Second? Or are you waiting for an invitation to earn your pay? Alright,” Mary sighed, as if she were a noble acquiescing to a shoe shiner, and spread her legs, pulling her skirt taut against her thighs, “There you go. Do it quick and I might throw in another fifty cents.”

“I am going to ruin you.” Carmen stated, and grabbed her bag, then left the room. Dakota quickly went to follow, “I need to be alone right now,” Carmen told her, voice perfectly calm and composed as if nothing had happened. Her thoughts were focused entirely on Mary.

The blonde, big-tits bimbo portrayed herself as untouchable. Nothing was wrong with her, nor could anything be wrong with her. Just the mere notion of such a thing was fundamentally impossible in her mind. That was obvious in how she carried herself. Mary dressed perfectly, never showing off too much skin, always the conservative that just happened to have a bombshell figure. No stranger would look at her and know the devious, monster that churned beneath the surface.

But they will, Carmen silently promised. She walked into the bathrooms and locked herself in a stall, then pulled out the Futa Note alongside her pen. Carmen’s temper was rarely tested. She normally avoided anything that might do so. Anger would only cloud her thoughts, something she couldn’t tolerate when she constantly had to study. Melody tried her patience sometimes, but that’s what kids do. Carmen couldn’t even recall the last time she had lost control.

There was no stopping now, though. She couldn’t shut out Mary’s insults, nor what she had done to Dakota, every syllable and action playing on repeat. This wasn’t out of temptation, nor was it a desire to solve a problem quickly, Carmen affirmed for herself. She did this out of kindness. If Mary’s confidence, or at least her reputation, was ruined by what happened today then everyone would be better off. Retribution was just a bonus.

Ryuka peered over the side of the stall. She had mostly kept to herself throughout the events, interested in watching Carmen. After a month with the girl, the Seikogami knew that the temptation was building. With that incident in the hallway, she’d hoped Carmen would give in. But it’s better late than never, Ryuka told herself. The human’s hand worked furiously, yet her script remained fluid. Ryuka hovered closer and read the entry, silent so as not to alert Carmen.

The Seikogami left the room and began to laugh ecstatically. Repressed humans were always the best once they finally let loose. Ryuka heard that wretched bell ring once more, though she was glad to hear it now. She passed through wall after wall, until she spotted the blonde that had earned a Futa Note owner’s wrath. Now she only had to wait and watch the show unfold. Ryuka’s eyes fell on the clock and counted the seconds until the transformation would begin.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 6 - A New Futa on the Block

Mary kept her head low as she scrolled through Twitter. The teacher wouldn’t care, none of them did, and even if they tried to make her stop all it would take is a quick text to Gretchen to solve everything. Admittedly, that stole the thrill from being on her phone during class. She almost missed the nerve-wracking days in middle-school. The trade-off was worth it though, as she could wile away the boring lessons.

The device vibrated in her grasp. She checked and saw a text from Ashley; Don’t you think you were a little harsh earlier? Mary rolled her eyes. The dumb rich girl should just mind her own business, unless it meant buying Mary a new coat that is. She quickly typed her response; It’s just a joke. Guess she doesn’t have a sense of humour, like someone else I know.

Ashley didn’t respond immediately. Mary could practically imagine her horrified expression as she read too deep into the response. Her reply came a minute later; I’ve got a sense of humour! It’s just that she looked really angry. The blonde nearly pinched the bridge of her nose in disappointment. What would that prissy honour student do? If she made one wrong move, then she’d be expelled. Hell, Mary could probably make that happen with a quick phone call.

That’s the point of teasing, Ash. If they don’t react, it’s not funny. Mary answered, reading it in her mind like she was talking to a small child. The response came a moment later; Oh, okay. It was pretty funny. The big busted blonde shook her head at the transparency of the message and returned her attention back to social media.

She started watching a video of a pair of kittens meeting for the first time. Mary smiled softly at the screen, forgetting the world around her for two minutes, and sighed when one of the younglings tried to meow, only to sound more like a squeak. Felines were her weakness and something of a passion. Her mind turned to her own cat, which no doubt wondered around her home, trying to seek her company.

Captivated by the video, Mary absentmindedly scratched at her chest. When the itch refused to go away, the blonde groaned in frustration and checked down the front of her shirt. If someone walked by her desk, they’d only need to lean over, and they would see the tops of her unnaturally round breasts. Mary frowned and grimaced at the redness that spread over her tight mounds. A similar itch burned to life between her legs, as if it had been waiting for her to notice.

“The fuck?” Mary grunted and stood up. She ignored the eyes that followed her and shot the teacher a look that made it clear that she wasn’t to be questioned. He only shrugged at her and returned to blandly reading from the textbook, while the click of Mary’s heels echoed through the hallway. Every step made her thighs ache and chaff together.

She slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it courtesy of a master key from Gretchen. Not one to take chances, Mary moved into a stall. Safe from discovery, Mary hastily removed her top and unhooked her bra, nearly tearing through the fabric in her rush. The instant her artificially perky breasts were released from their prison, the redness began to fade, as did the maddening itch. Her sigh of relief died in her throat as the burn between her legs resurged, hotter than before.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Mary cursed and removed her skirt, taking her panties with it, “Thank fucking god.” She leaned back against the toilet basin, breathing heavily as she let the weird rash dissipate. Without a shadow of a doubt, that was the worst feeling in her life. The crease of her frown deepened at the thought. It had felt horrible, like her skin was on fire or covered in acid or something worse. Yes, horrible, she nodded to herself.

Then why did she feel so horny? Mary bit her bottom lip and brought her hands to her breasts, idly fondling their firm expanse. A gentle sigh drifted from her lips. She loved touching her implants, feeling their abnormal heft, their solidity. They were a symbol of her status, of the fact that she could do anything she wanted despite her age. And they felt great just to hold.

“Hmm,” Mary murmured under her breath, finding and rubbing an erect nipple. The heat of her desire flared brighter than before, flowing like a scalding hot river into her groin. There was an odd weight there, one that caught her attention as it began to throb in tandem with her pounding heart. She ignored the sensation, however, lavishing her wonderfully fake tits with attention as she let her eyes fall close to fantasise.

If she was going to do this, then she might as well enjoy it. That meant letting her mind wander, as well as her hands. Mary let her legs spread apart, just like she would when she played with herself at home, while one of her hands released her breast and slid down across her slim stomach. Few people loved themselves like she did.

Mary let her fingers linger as they travelled down her body. Her nails lightly raked across her flesh, leaving faint lines and adding a level of pleasant discomfort, one that made her dear pussy ache. Anticipation built in her gut. Her breaths turned deep and airy, pushing her chest deeper into her palm while she zeroed in on the true source of the heat. The initial teasing was always her favourite part.

In her mind’s eye, she conjured all the men she lusted after. Muscular with shorts that bulged like they were several sizes too small, and their smouldering eyes locked on her heaving body. Mary was no stranger to sex, having embraced her sexuality long ago, and had even organised a private gangbang with some of Ashley’s parents’ friends. There was nothing quite like the lust and adoration on the faces of older, sexually pent up men.

She moaned and pushed her chest out further. Her implant depressed under her hungry fingers, its unnaturally perky and round shape forcefully conforming to her hand. Mary’s nipples throbbed against her palm. They yearned for stimulation, for more than a simple press of her hand. Unable to deny herself, Mary moved her digits to the comparatively small nub and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. A moan of delight sparked Mary’s fantasies further.

All those beautiful men surrounded her. There was nothing she could see beyond their hard abs and bulbous shorts, her eyes level with their dicks. Mary soon enticed them to erection, her deliciously fake tits and barely legal age working perfectly. Before her lustful eyes, they began to strip. Cock after cock leapt free, all of them hard as stone and easily ten inches each. Her perfect size.

She saw herself get on all fours and shake her hips at them. A pair of hands clasped her ass cheeks, sinking deep and hard into her firm flesh. The hands felt softer than she’d have expected, but she blamed it on the sensation of her hands. They, then, spread her curvaceous mounds wide to reveal her slightly gaped asshole. One of those perfect cocks pressed against the opening, while another slid beneath her.

Mary moaned in both her mind and reality. Double penetration is the best, she thought and eagerly plunged her imagined companions deep into her body. Her brain couldn’t properly recreate the sensations, but the memory alone was enough. Perhaps she could cum without even touching her pussy with how tense with arousal her body felt. Mary kept her hand to the precipice of her groin, just above her lustful sex.

“Yes…” Mary groaned in wanton desire, picturing three cocks now driving into her all her holes, “Deeper… harder…” She groped her tit with so much force that she almost feared that she would break the implant, but her worries dwindled. Every passing second spent in her greatest fantasy made her cunt hungrier for attention. It hurt so magnificently.

Her mind drifted to further conjure the image of her many partners. Mary licked her lips in anticipation, eager to see the chiselled jaws and rough stubble that she so appreciated in her men. Then her cognitive brain recognised something was wrong. The abs were gone, as were any of the other muscles. They almost looked feminine, but their cocks were still there.

Mary frowned even as she continued to play with herself. Her hand drifted lower to her snatch, hoping that she could embolden her usual daydreams. Without her permission, Mary’s mind continued to femininize her fuck-toys. Their chests blossomed into small handfuls, capped with cute nipples, while their hair lengthened to their chins. She was captivated by the changes, despite her self-concern.

When they finally came to a stop, Mary’s imagination put her face to face with a perfect copy of Carmen Robins. But she still had a cock. What was… Mary’s thought froze in place, as if submerged in water then blasted with liquid nitrogen. Her hand had slipped down to where her pussy should be, where her juicy cunny should lie in wait for her to lather it with attention. She, instead, felt something hard and thick and covered in veins and completely unfeminine.

“What… the… fuck?” Mary gasped, opening her eyes and looking down. Her chest was the same as always, as was her middle. Everything about her was as it should be, except for the distinct cock that stood at attention from her waxed crotch. A dick was on her gorgeous body, defiling it just by existing. And it wasn’t even big; she had to use only a few fingers to avoid covering it up completely.

Why was she still touching it? Her hand tightened its grip, as if to directly mock her, wrapping the putrid penis in her fingers as it throbbed mightily. Mary’s lip curled in disgust as she stared down at the prick, taking in its diminutive length and surprising girth. The veins that trailed up the shaft were thick, pulsating and intricately weaved. It was a masculine endowment without a doubt, its size notwithstanding.

“This is so fucked up,” Mary grumbled under her breath. It couldn’t be real, she snarled in her thoughts and tightened her grip, then tugged on the hideous appendage. A mix of pain and pleasure forced her to curl in on herself, gasping shrilly at the sensations. The blonde’s chest pounded violently, arousal and fear pumping through her veins, which now included those of her cock. It was attached to her, there was no refuting it.

It pulsated against her palm in slight disharmony with her heart. The darker skin tone blended naturally into her own tan flesh, extending from her crotch as if she were born with it. Mary wouldn’t know it herself if she hadn’t lived otherwise. She gulped, a terrified chill running through her blood, and released her member to go below it. Her fingers trailed across her scrotum, noting how huge her balls were, before dipping beneath them. A soft moan trickled from her lips when she touched her pussy.

She was still a girl. Sort of. Mary’s fingers idly traced along her obscured snatch, occasionally brushing against her inner labia. Pleasure warmed her entire body as she played with herself, resuming where she’d left off. Her groin thrummed with arousal, lust pumping through her new twin genitalia.

Was she really going to keep masturbating like this? Mary bit her lip and stared at her cock in unmistakable disgust, yet her curiosity refused to be silenced. It wouldn’t be any worse than jerking off a guy or two, save for the disappointing size. Just once, the augmented blonde thought and moved her hand from her breast to coil around her shaft. She kept the other on her pussy.

“Am I really doing this?” Mary posed the question, part of her hoping that someone would give her an answer. When none came, leaving her to stew in her relentless lust, she gave it to herself. The bimbo shaped blonde pushed a finger past her folds, sinking it into the silky warmth of her pussy. Her curled fingers tightened and lifted to brush against the crown of her cock.

A moan forced its way from her mouth. Mary lightly thrust her finger, brushing delightfully against her sensitive walls, while her hand began to slowly jerk up and down. The foreskin peeled back, revealing her lust infused purple tip. She inadvertently massaged her balls with her lower hand, rolling the egg-shaped orbs around in their wrinkled prison. Her nerves fired rapidly, sending shocks of delight from her dual sexes.

The sound of her flesh smacking against itself rebounded off the walls around her. She moved slowly, taking her time to adjust to the sensations. Her hand slid languidly up and down her shaft, gently slapping her crotch as she traversed the pitifully short length. Mary hastened her bottom hand’s pace. She groaned in need and added a second finger to slightly stretch her cunt.

A slickness met her coiled fingers. She slowed her strokes to peer down at her meagre appendage, watching as a bead of clear pre-cum fell to gravity’s sway and washed down across her fingers. The amount was incredible, easily enough to lube her shaft twice over. At least it was big in some ways, Mary thought as she expertly worked the slimy fluid into her foreskin. Her jerks quickened rapidly, slipping along her prick to entice an even greater flow.

Mary added a third finger to her pussy. Her lips stretched around her digits, gripping them tightly in its soft embrace. A trickle of her juices leaked down the cleft of her pussy, smearing it along her thighs as she pulled out. A cocktail of odours reached up into her nostrils, a mixture of her heady pussy’s perfume and the novel, pungent musk of her cock. Her breaths deepened at the scent.

It was intoxicating. Not just the odd sensations tugging at her nerves and mind, nor the enticing aromas, but the sheer implausibility of what she was doing. Mary was a woman, one with tits more expensive than the finest leather and an ass just as affluent, but she now had a cock. One that she was excitedly masturbating, lathering it in its own fluids while she moaned like a common whore and fingered her cunt. Everything about her situation screamed ‘impossible’.

The blonde slowed her self-indulgence to bring her cock coated hand to her face. She inhaled deeply, savouring its strong odour. A moment of disgust at herself passed as she extended her tongue, running it across her slimy fingers. Shudders ran through her, as did the flavour. It, like everything about her predicament, was elating. Mary ran her tongue around her mouth, finding the salty-sweet taste stuck fast to her gums.

She exchanged hands and moaned when she returned to jerking her new endowment. It throbbed and spurted a line of pre the moment she touched it, as if welcoming her back. Mary turned her attention to her slick fingers, smelling her usual nights alone. She gathered her juices on her tongue, groaning at the flavour. Her other hand never stopped its motions, constantly supplying more pre-cum. The fluid ran across the curve of her disproportionately large balls.

“This is fucking wrong,” Mary sighed, returning her cleaned fingers to their proper role, “Why am I fingering myself in the bathroom… why am I jerking off my own cock… how would it feel if someone else did it? Hmm… maybe that honour student?” Mary started at the thought, but her mind was focused. It summoned images of Carmen Robins, of the straight-A student on her knees and sucking Mary’s cock.

No… it was the other around. Mary tried to seethe with anger at the ridiculous thoughts. She was the top bitch, above even the principal’s daughter and the richest girl in the school. It didn’t matter that she was despised by most of the students and staff, or that she was now some freak with a cock. But her imagination refused to be silenced.

“Stop it,” Mary demanded, “Hmm… please, stop?” She rolled her hips, thrusting them in tandem with her hands’ movements. Carmen pervaded her thoughts, pushing her into position after position, using her as she pleased. The blonde’s strokes quickened rapidly, the slick smacks of her fist meeting the base of her cock echoed in her ears. Pressure coiled tight in her gut, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

She was going to cum. Worse, she was going to cum while fantasising about that goddamn honour student. Mary pleaded with her body to stop, unwilling to let herself orgasm with Carmen’s visage running through her mind. Not with that girl’s body stuck in her imagination. Not with the image of that honour student’s fantasy cock rampaging through her pussy.

“FUCK!” Mary screamed. Her muscles locked together as she raised her hips. Cum jetted from her cock, soaring high and landing back on her naked skin, while her pussy clenched and unleashed a wave of her juices. It splattered powerfully against the toilet seat and floor. Her head barely avoided smashing into the basin as she shouted her ecstasy to the entire room. Perhaps even the entire school.

She saw Carmen do the same thing in her mind. The difference was that she unloaded every ounce of sperm into Mary’s pussy, without any protection. Mary twitched in the afterglow of her climax, her arms and legs limp. Only her clenched muscles kept her from sliding onto the dirty, cum stained floor. Saliva and semen mixed together on her face, where a dumb grin and vacant eyes laid.

“So good,” Mary moaned as she gradually crawled back to consciousness. She righted herself and looked around, seeing the product of her overwhelming climax, before sliding her hands through her ejaculate. She rubbed it between her fingers, reminded of glue, though it was thicker, almost like tar. It instantly stuck to her fingers, creating long hanging ropes when she pulled away. The blonde brought a heavy glob to her lips and sucked it from her finger.

“So good,” she repeated, then realised what she was doing. Mary shot to her feet, forcing herself to grimace at the sensation of her cum sliding down her skin, and unfurled the toilet roll. She cleaned herself up, eager to remove any hint at what had just transpired. The blonde futa paused when she came to her cock, staring at it like a mouse would at a cobra. How could it be real?

“No one can know,” Mary growled under her breath and picked up her clothes, wiping away every speck of cum that had landed on them. She pulled her panties on, eager to get out of the room and distract herself. She should try and finish with Carmen. The thought died moments after it formed as a flush of desire washed through her, causing her pecker to rise from its slumber, “Fuck off!” Mary snarled and forced it into her panties.

A familiar burn instantly flared to life. She pulled her underwear down to find that her skin had turned bright red, just as it had earlier. Mary took a long breath and tried again once the redness and urge to itch subsided, but immediately retreated when the sensations flashed across her flesh. It wasn’t the end of the world. Her cock was small, so it was unlikely that anyone would see it if she was careful. And she was no stranger to going commando.

Mary pushed the issue aside and went about pulling on her bra. She liked the weight and feel of her tits bouncing everywhere, but it grew uncomfortable after a while. The blonde reached back and hooked up the garment. Heat and pain rapidly rose to the surface, however. Her eyes widened as she freed her breasts and stared down at her underwear.

“You can’t be serious?” Mary didn’t know who could answer her. How could anyone explain why she was suddenly violently allergic to her favourite underwear? She cursed under her breath as she cautiously dressed herself, sighing in relief when nothing happened. This wasn’t a big problem. She’d just have to get some new underwear from a different store, then everything would be fine. No one would know about her cock or her fantasies.

Classes came to an end and the students were released into the world. Mary led her group through the doors, their numbers bolstered by the fearful students they left behind. They were right to fear her. She had done nearly everything a teenager could do without getting arrested, even some things that should’ve resulted in her incarceration. Not that those actions would ever be publicly known.

One girl’s gaze met hers and quickly looked away. Mary recognised her, she had boasted about having a boyfriend to everyone, so Mary stole him and got all their dirty deeds on camera. It wasn’t hard to make them break-up afterwards. Though she could’ve just as easily gotten the girl expelled on false charges.

Mary smirked at the frightened girl. Everything was as it should be; she was at the pinnacle of the student hierarchy. No one knew about what happened earlier, and it would stay that way. Someone brushed by her, causing her temper to flare. She turned her blue gaze on the offender and stumbled.

“You okay, Mary?” Gretchen asked, looking at the girl who’d walked past, “Wanna get her?”

“Uh, no… fuck the bitch. I’m hungry anyway,” Mary turned, heading down the path to the exit, while keeping as far from Carmen Robins as possible. She couldn’t resist catching another glimpse of her, though, and caught Carmen’s eyes. Warmth blossomed immediately on Mary’s face and spread down her body, focusing into her groin. She felt her cock twitch against her thigh, “Hurry up!” She snapped at her entourage as she stormed down the sidewalk.

Night had fallen when Mary walked through the door of her home and escaped the chilly air. Her parents were already in bed, sleeping in preparation for their next day of work. The only member of her family who appeared to welcome her home, though it was for their own purpose, was Tammy; her ginger tabby. She crouched down to meet her, extending a hand to fuss the pampered feline.

“Hey, girl,” Mary cooed softly, picking up her pet and carrying her into the kitchen. Changes were common for women going through puberty. One day they liked something, and the next it was hideous to them. Cats were one of the few things Mary still cherished, “Let’s get you some dinner.”

Her parents left Tammy’s care to Mary. It was her insistence that she look after her cat, more to affirm the feline’s affections than take on any true responsibility, though she took pride in looking after the tabby. The blonde set the bowl of specially prepared tuna down in front of her pet, giving her a quick scratch behind the ear, then made herself a small snack. She’d already eaten dinner with her group, so she wasn’t as famished as Tammy.

With her snack of jam slathered toast, Mary climbed up to her room and flopped onto the bed, careful not to spill any crumbs. She turned on Netflix and flipped through the programs. Unable to settle on anything, she turned to YouTube. None of her subscriptions posted anything interesting that day, as such she resorted to what was trending. One video finally caught her eye; ‘What IS a futanari - Bible Black?’

She had nothing better to watch. Mary opened it and settled in to eat her toast, while idly scrolling through Twitter, only half-listening to the video. Until it got to the main point.

“A futanari is something of a common theme in Japanese Hentai. Some of you may have already heard the term, but don’t know what it means. Well, there’s a lot of different definitions out there, but we’re going to look at, arguably, the most famous rendition of futanari; Bible Black. Here, a futanari is a woman who grows a penis, but retains her vagina…”

Mary froze in the middle of a bite to stare at the screen in shock. Coincidence was too weak a word for the occurrence. Her cock, hidden beneath her skirt, throbbed and bulged against the cloth as if responding to the word. Before her eyes, the video began to show ‘mostly’ safe drawings of a futanari, then cut to a photoshopped images of women with a giant dick stuffed in their shorts. The blonde swallowed her bite and felt at her own member, which didn’t compare to the sizes on screen.

She licked some jam from her lip and fondled her cock. Arousal filtered through her shock, sending her heart pounding in her chest and blood pumping to her prick. It swelled under her skirt, making its presence unmissable. Mary continued to fondle it through the fabric, eyes fixated on the video as it continued to show more futanari. She squirmed as she pleasured herself, engorging her cock and nipples.

A fiery ache spread across her skin. Mary frowned, but refused to stop touching herself, continuing to bolster her desire. The ache turned into an itch, giving the sensation of ants scurrying across her flesh. Her legs kicked in discomfort, the feeling spreading down to her knees, forcing her to stop. The blonde finally gave up and ripped her skirt and top from her body, tearing them in two. She ignored that fact and focused on the horrifying red dimples across her body.

Wherever her clothes had touched looked as if she had pressed hot iron against her skin. Mary ignored the video and focused on the burning patches of flesh, though small areas were spared. They stung against the cool open air. Yet, despite the pain, her cock remained defiantly rigid. The blonde turned her gaze to the remnants of her clothes, grimacing at the sight.

Money was rarely an issue with her family’s successful bakery, but her clothing allowance was strict. Neither she, nor her parents, wanted her to own a mountain of rarely worn garments. Now she had to replace everything, including the mandatory school skirt. Mary set aside her plate and walked over to her wardrobe, prying the doors apart to consider her neat array of options. Her dick remained hard all the while.

“Okay, so silk and cotton are out,” Mary muttered to herself, “Let’s try… you.” The blonde grabbed a denim vest, one with a punk style to it. She gasped and released it almost immediately, retracting her hand as if she had been bitten by a cobra. The vest fell to the floor with a dull thump, and a familiar shade of red in its wake. Her cock pulsed, and her pussy ached in response, seemingly deriving pleasure from her discomfort.

“Fuck it, fine,” Mary grunted and returned to her bed, carefully avoiding her discarded clothes. She grabbed her phone and looked up futanari. She opened the first video she found. Lustful tremors passed through her body, reaching into her most sensitive zones. All it took was a few moments of watching futanari fuck and play with each other for her hand to latch onto her cock once more.

She moaned at the touch. It was better than before, vastly so, urging her to fall into a rapid pace in seconds. Her cock twitched in her grasp, pre-cum already pouring from the slight cleft in her prick. The muscles in her body contracted, urging her to undulate her body in time with her hand. Her toes curled, sinking into her bedsheets. Mary’s spare hand swiftly dove between her legs and under her balls.

Just like the bathroom, she ignored her plentiful sack and jammed three fingers into her starving snatch. It clamped around them, harder than before. If she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought she’d left it untouched for years, not hours. The curvaceous blonde arched her back, wishing that she could be one of the futanari in the video. Then she’d have people to pleasure her, to suck her tits while they stroked her cock.

“Carmen…” Mary groaned, unable to resist uttering the name, despite the disdain that sank into her stomach at its sound. The image it conjured, however, made her pussy throb and ache in yearning. She couldn’t get it out of her head. Carmen Robins was always there, always naked, always smiling, and always sporting a cock that put Mary’s to shame. That alone made Mary’s stomach churn in both disgust and desire.

“You bitch,” Mary breathed, respirations quickening as her orgasm built within her. She could see her reflection in her phone screen, staring back at her with judgement in its eyes. That judgement was obvious; ‘you want her’. The very idea was ludicrous, at least before that day. She didn’t go for nerds or weird people. They idolised and feared her. That was how it went.

And how it always would. Then why she did crave one of those people that should revere her? Mary’s fingers curled inside of her, scraping along her g-spot as she jerked her prick. Carmen was a nerd who spent all her time studying, that was her role in the teenage hierarchy. Or was it? Dakota was almost constantly with her now. When they were alone, were they doing all sorts of sordid things with one another?

Mary’s body jerked and locked as a powerful explosion of ecstasy detonated in her core. Its fire spread rapidly to her limbs and across her insides. Licks of heat danced across her nerves, an electric tango of passion. Heavy, viscous spurts of semen flew from her cock. Mary’s eyes turned to watch the ropes fall, splattering her bed and body. A sticky pool formed in the dip of her navel.

The blonde pushed a finger into her bellybutton and swirled the cum around. It was thicker than earlier, adhering to her fingers instantly. She pulled them up to her face, a trail of her cock slime preceding her hand. At a glance, she could’ve thought that her hand was covered in congealed yogurt. The potent gunk formed a web between her fingers when she pulled them apart.

Mary licked her fingers clean. The flavour was all too familiar, salty and bitter, with an undiscernible taste that only cum possessed, but it was different to any other’s that she’d sampled. This was her cum, unique to the only real-life futanari. If her cum tasted this good, how would Carmen’s if she had a cock? Mary slapped a hand over her face to silence the thought, spreading jizz over it.

“It… it’ll just be my secret. No one else can know,” Mary panted, eyes locked onto her slowly softening pecker. It folded over her balls and let the last speck of her climax drool onto her bed. The smell of cum and sex filled the air, her twin musk mixing together. Her inhales turned long and slow, filling her lungs with the aroma. It almost pained her to know that she had to mask the odour.

Mary stood and returned to her wardrobe, panting softly in the musky air. She grabbed her discarded vest and waited, expecting her hand to burn just as before. It never came. The blonde futa cautiously pulled it over her arms and buttoned it, ignoring the streaks of cum on her torso. Her entire body was tense in anticipation; the burning never came, however. No redness, no itching, nothing happened.

Relief steadied her heartbeat as she found a pair of lace panties. She pulled them on, certain that it was just the materials that caused the terrible rashes. No one would discover her cock now. All she had to do was avoid an erection and keep it under wraps, simple enough since she went to an all-girls school. Indeed, nothing would knock her from her pedestal. Her jaw clenched, and discomfort whimpered in her throat as the burning resurged moments later.

It only came around her crotch, though. She removed the panties, taking care not to aggravate the afflicted area, then tried another material. The same result met her attempts, time after time. When her final pair laid on the floor, discarded for the useless garment they were now, Mary admitted defeat. No matter what she had tried, it failed. She had even tried tying down with a rubber band.

“It’s okay,” Mary assured herself, “Just need to be careful. I can just wear a longer skirt. No trouble at all.” She started at the sound of taps against her door, then heard a whining meow. Tammy would be just what she needed.

“Hey there, cutie,” Mary whispered, carrying her feline over to the bed. She ignored the way her slimy cum squelched under her weight, or how nice it felt on her firm ass, and focused on petting her beloved cat. She idly rolled her tongue around her mouth, finding that her sperm’s potent flavour lingered. A pulse of warmth echoed in her middle, answering the longing urge in her balls.

As her cock swelled yet again, her vest grew uncomfortably stuffy. Mary ground her teeth together and restrained herself from whimpering, trying to focus her consciousness on Tammy’s content purrs. Her tongue moved across her maulers and found a glob of cum stuck there. It rolled across her taste buds and down her throat, inciting her desire even further. Mary’s hand moved away from her pet and found her cock once more.

“Do you have a way to help me, Tammy?” Mary moaned, sliding her arms through her vest, careful not to disturb her comfortable pet. Her chest and shoulders were bright red, just beginning to burn. The feline only nuzzled into her hand, purring loudly, while her owner began to masturbate for the third time that day.

Mary had always been an insatiable girl. She would often get horny at a glance, but within reason. School rarely made her horny, and stroking her darling cat removed any such thoughts or desires. And yet, there she laid with Tammy curled up under her arm, seemingly ignorant to how dirty her owner was being, jerking her cock again. Mary clamped a hand over her mouth as she came.

It was just as big as before. At least a cup’s worth of jizz erupted from her prick and rained back onto her, with an ounce of it finding its way into her mouth. Her arm kept Tammy safe from any drops, while Mary delighted in the sensations. She hadn’t even touched her pussy that time, yet it was just as intense as ever.

“Fuck, that felt good,” Mary sighed as she came down, running her fingers along the sloppy messes that demeaned her perfect, tanned flesh. A rivulet found its way to her lips, which she licked clean. The taste washed over her, flooding back into her cock. It rose from its dormant state, hard again in an instant.

“Sorry, Tammy,” Mary groaned and got up, then walked into the bathroom. It would be a long night if this kept up, though a pleasurable one at least. The blonde was used to it, however. She’d been so pent up before that she spent entire days fucking and masturbating. A sore pussy was both the worst and most satisfying feeling. She locked the bathroom door and wrapped a hand around her prick. It was better than dreading her random bouts of allergies.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 7 - Keeping a Hard Secret

Tuesday and Wednesday soon passed. Two days since Carmen wrote Mary’s name in the book and transformed her, entirely out of a desire for revenge. A desire that was left unsated. Mary hadn’t changed in the slightest, not in any way that Carmen could discern. She remained as narcissistic and hateful as ever, tormenting anyone and everyone who crossed her path. Only Carmen was aware of anything new.

The honour student repressed a groan of frustration. She stared at Mary from across the field, the fake blonde laughing loudly with her covenant of sycophants. Her legs were crossed and angled away from the eyes of the runners. Carmen sat on the side-lines with Dakota, waiting for their turn. PE was one of the few classes that Carmen dreaded, and it was only made worse by her confusion at Mary’s resolute demeanour.

“Impressive,” Ryuka chuckled from behind the fixated student, “Who’d have thought someone like her would be so mentally strong. Or perhaps she’s that dumb?”

My thoughts exactly, Carmen growled in her head. Since the transformation, Mary had harassed Dakota several times, and even sent her lackey, Gretchen, to torment Carmen. The fact that she wouldn’t do so personally somehow made it worse. She curled her lip in disdain as the group roared with laughter.

“We’re up,” Dakota chirped, hopping to her feet and adjusting her shorts to keep her cock from showing.

“Yeah,” Carmen grumbled, already able to feel the ache in her legs. It was only in her mind, she knew, however the inevitable burn remained lodged in her thoughts.

“Wanna fake an injury?” Dakota offered, even as she stretched with an eager smirk.

“No, it’s fine,” Carmen quickly answered, refusing to miss a class, even if it was akin to torture for the studious teen. Or deprive Dakota of one of her few outlets, “I’m just gonna need a foot massage after this.”

“My mom says mine are to die for,” Dakota grinned, wriggling her eyebrows.

“They’d better be,” Carmen smiled back. She adopted the standard sprint pose, mimicking Dakota and raising her ass into the air, “Enjoying the view?” She asked dryly, catching Dakota’s gaze on her rear.

“Think of this as payment for the foot rub.”

“Fine,” Carmen sighed. She glanced at the bleachers and frowned, certain that Mary’s head was turned in her direction with a mystified expression, something Carmen couldn’t recall ever witnessing. The bitch always made herself out to be omniscient, and when that was proven false covered it through a skilled change of subject. It was a change from the usual demeaning smirk, yet still as infuriating.

“Why not go further?” Ryuka whispered in her ear, following closely as Carmen set down the track, working her legs uncomfortably fast, “She deserves it, does she not?” Carmen tightened her jaw and swallowed back her response. Her silence only prompted Ryuka to continue.

“A tiny cock and no underwear hardly seems noticeable,” the Seikogami mused, reclining in the air as she flew alongside the student, full lips tilted in a knowing grin, “Imagine forcing her to hide a real monster. One little naughty thought and everyone would know. Presuming the bulge doesn’t give her away.”

“I’m busy,” Carmen grunted, breathless despite only reaching the halfway mark. Her skin glistened with sweat, causing her gym clothes to cling tight to her body, emphasising her mediocre curves. Ahead of her, Dakota seemed perfectly at peace with her brisk pace, as if she were lightly jogging. The honour student’s eyes drifted of their own accord, adhering her gaze to the half-German’s pert ass.

“Yes, staring at her ass,” Ryuka nodded in approval, “It could be better, but not bad for a human. Although, I wonder how that Mary girl’s looks naked.”

“It’s fake,” Carmen panted, sharpening her scowl to chase away the visage.

“Which makes it no less enticing,” Ryuka stated, almost sounding wise.

“What’s your point?” Carmen huffed, legs burning just as she had predicted they would. The last thing she wanted was this conversation.

“No point. Just a statement. Besides,” Ryuka’s breasts brushed against Carmen’s arm, their plushness squishing against her solid form, “I can smell your frustration with her. How will you be able to focus on your ‘studying’ with those thoughts always on your mind?”

Carmen gasped victoriously when she staggered across the finish line. She turned to face the Seikogami, panting heavily as she wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow. Annoyance glowered in her eyes, yet her expression remained tranquil, if flushed.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she mouthed the words at Ryuka, then relaxed as Dakota approached and draped an arm over the honour student’s damp shoulders.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?” Dakota laughed, cheeks flushed, and lips raised in an elated smirk.

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” Carmen replied, grimacing at how soaked her shirt was, “Doesn’t the sweat bother you?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Dakota began, leaning in close to whisper in Carmen’s ear, “But I have a thing for sweaty girls… I think. Haven’t really looked at anyone besides you.”

“You’re hopeless,” Carmen laughed, playfully pushing her away.

“Thank you,” Dakota beamed, “Wanna hit the showers?” Her expression dimmed, taking on a worried grimace.

“I’ll stand watch, don’t worry,” Carmen assured her, tugging at her second-hand, clingy shirt. It felt tighter than normal, though it wasn’t surprising; she wasn’t necessarily done growing yet. They wandered into the showers ahead of the rest, Carmen grabbing her bag along the way. When Dakota stepped into the shower stall, nervously hiding her crotch from any possible view, Carmen reached inside and found the Futa Note.

She couldn’t explain why she still carried it. The book had served the only purpose she had found for it in over month, yet she was going to use it again. As if her subconscious knew she would do so. Carmen leaned against the shower stall, out of Dakota’s view, and rested the notebook against her thighs, staring at the transformation she’d forced upon Mary just days earlier. Thoughts raced through her mind, causing her fingers to twitch.

“Ugh, just watching those try-hard assholes makes me sweat,” a familiar, whiny pitched voice travelled through the locker room, reaching Carmen, “Where’d those dykes go anyway?”

“Dunno,” Gretchen’s voice cropped up, “Probably gonna eat out the teachers for lunch money.”

“You really think they’d be so expensive?” Mary laughed.

“Fuck you,” Carmen growled under her breath, fixing her gaze solely on the book. She erased every word, then replaced them with fast, vicious strokes of her pen. The honour student didn’t reread her entry, nor did her thoughts linger on it.

“We gotta go,” Carmen said after knocking on the wall, “Mary’s heading here.”

“Sure,” Dakota quickly agreed. She towelled herself dry, visibly taking care not to stimulate herself in front of Carmen. When she was dry and dressed once more, they slipped out from the showers. Carmen caught a glimpse of Mary from the corner of her eye, but they went unseen. At least by the despicable blonde.

“Uh, hi,” Zoey, the tall athlete of the group, said, bringing attention from the others.

“Oh, hello,” the sickly syrup-sweet tone of Mary’s voice sent a barely repressed shudder down Carmen’s spine, which Dakota expressed in her place, “Now what was a pair of fine, lesbian sluts doing alone in the shower?” She stepped forward, devout malice etched into her otherwise stunning face.

“Now,” Carmen whispered under her breath, having silently counted the seconds leading up to Mary’s latest transformation. It took effect immediately, causing the blonde to freeze in place and supress a weak gasp. The honour student grabbed Dakota’s hand and dragged her toward the exit, glancing back to see Mary claw at her clothes. Hidden under the rush of movement, Carmen’s lips curled in a vindicated smile.

Mary glared at the doorway as her body burned. It was the same as last time. Her clothes seared her flesh, causing a baleful itch to spread across her form, before it worsened into a flame that licked her body from her ankles, up to her arms. Both were covered in thigh-high tights and a stylish shirt respectively, something that had worked perfectly before.

“You alright?” Zoey asked, coming forward to lay a concerned hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“Fuck off!” Mary snarled, snapping away at the sudden blaze that seeped across where Zoey had touched. It spread further, rapidly streaking down her figure to coil within her groin.

“What’s up?” Gretchen inquired as she stepped around a row of lockers.

“Nothing,” Mary hastily yelled, then stood and rushed from the room, “I just need the bathroom.” She amended, trying to keep her voice from betraying the horror in her mind, and the agony painting across her skin. Anyone who looked her way caught a baleful glare, one that forced them to back away out of fear. The queen bee staggered into the bathroom stall and locked the door, before removing her clothes.

Her tights tore in her haste, as did the neck of her shirt. Mary panted as she stared down at the crimson areas that littered her fair skin. Small bumps lined the surface of the darkest places, seeming to beg for her nails to scratch. The cool air made the blaze lower to a simmer, yet it also stung viciously. Worst of all was her erect cock.

Its puny size only just peeked around the curve of her breasts. After the days of adjusting to her condition, she knew what needed to be done. Mary began to scowl at her member as she wrapped a delicate hand around the comparatively thick shaft, its veins throbbing potently against her palm, only to let a smile grace her expression instead. Behind her balls, Mary’s pussy ached and leaked. Her lips parted in a pleasured sigh as she slipped her fingers inside, using her palm to cup her sack.

“What the hell’s happening to me?” Mary moaned against the air, already losing herself in the pleasure. Dampness met her thighs as her juices pooled on the toilet seat. Her hand stroked along her thick cock, squeezing around the head. Slimy pre-cum soon overflowed and slathered along her hand, which jerked faster. She bit down on her lip to muffle a moan, then released it as her fingers hit her prefect spot.

“Too good,” Mary groaned, leaning forward to properly see her potent prick. It glistened in its fluids, the spongy head eagerly spewing more with abandon. Her breasts nearly touched the tip, the undersized nipples twitching as if reaching for it. The lust-addled blonde released her cock and grabbed a firm tit, then raised it to her lips. She caught it and bit down, stifling her next moan.

The itching faded, yet her lusts remained as forceful as ever. Mary’s hand flew along her shaft, slapping against her slimy crotch wetly. Stray drops of pre landed on her belly and thighs in her fervour, while rivulets of the slick fluid leaked down her heavy balls. They were bigger than her cock, overflowing her palm. And she loved it.

No man she’d slept with even had a sack as big as one of her prolific testes. Mary rolled the twin cum tanks in her hand, indulging in the way her seed churned within them. A film of sweat clung to her scrotum, now mixed with her pre. She felt her heartbeat through the intricate circuit of veins, each throbbing in tandem with her lust-crazed cock. The back of her massive orbs were also doused in layer upon layer of her feminine juices.

This is all that Carmen’s fault, Mary thought. She moaned around her nipple, biting harder as her body surged with desire at the mere thought of the honour student. A gush of pre-cum spewed from her member, splattering against the floor. Why? Mary whimpered in her mind, even as her body continued to strive for more pleasure.

Every day, she masturbated. That alone wasn’t unusual for the borderline nymphomaniac. It was the fact that her fantasies almost always included Carmen Robins, despite the honour student not even being hot by Mary’s standards. Her breasts were barely average, she wasn’t very tall, even her ass looked flat. And yet that same underwhelming figure would dominate her thoughts.

Mary stared at the stall door. Part of her wished that it would break open and Carmen would step inside and see her for the freak that she had become. What happened next didn’t seem to matter. Mary released her tit with a strangled shriek, vocal chords locking from the extreme explosion of sensation. Her cock lurched in her grasp as thick ropes arched toward the door, while her cunt tightened like a vice and let down a deluge of her juices.

Mary’s rotund orbs clenched in perfect. Semen rocketed up her shaft, spewing from the tip with enough force to slam against the door more than two feet away. Lines of drool ran down her chin as her tongue hung out, a streak of saliva swaying on its tip.

“So fucking good,” Mary slurred, entire body relaxing into a near jellylike state. The vestiges of her climax leaked down her cock, running across her fingers and over her balls. Her hips twitched as her pussy milked her fingers like they were a cock, slathering some of her viscous seed against her vulva. Could she get herself pregnant? The stray thought made her snatch clench harder, as if trying to slurp up her jizz.

“I-I’m losing my mind,” Mary gasped, finally recuperating enough to right her position. Her legs shook as she tried to move them, aftershocks of her dual climaxes darting across her nerves. She stared at the mess in front of her. Addled by her orgasms, Mary fell to the floor and leaned down until her lips touched the jizz-covered ground. She slurped up the potent seed until her cheeks puffed out and savoured it.

The blonde, self-confessed slut, rolled her tongue around the thick goo. It doused her taste buds, each sperm seeming to set off another burst of flavour. Her gums and teeth were coated. The heady mixture swirled around her muscle, bathing it. She even leaned back and gargled, bubbles of jizz threatening to overflow from her full lips. Mary, then, swallowed with a satisfied moan.

“Déjà vu,” Mary grunted as she pulled on her skirt, tugging it past her broad hips. The fabric brushed against her mid-thigh, just as it always did, causing a yelp of pain to escape her lips. She pulled the flap of her skirt up and saw a distinct red line along her leg, exactly where the cloth had met her skin, “You’re fucking kidding?”

Mary tried her shirt. The sleeves came down to her bicep and the neckline, though torn, only revealed a few inches of her deep cleavage. Just like her skirt, however, the garments made her skin burn hotly past certain points. She took several deep breaths, standing there fully naked as she carefully tore into her clothes.

The top was expensive, though Ashley had paid for it. Mary almost winced as she forced the neckline lower and ripped the sleeves off to match where the redness began on her skin, before doing the same to the mandatory skirt. The once well-dressed blonde, whose outward appearance once betrayed the very notion of the things she’s done, now resembled a sloppy whore on a street corner. Even her makeup was smeared.

“Who the fuck dresses like this?” Mary growled to herself, staring down at her nearly naked tits, their round shapes coming together to create a loose cleavage now that the shirt was looser. Her arms were bare, though the school was thankfully well-heated. The biggest fear was her skirt. It barely covered her immense ass, leaving her cock to almost peak from the hemline. She breathed a sigh of relief that her balls didn’t hang like most would.

There was no doubt in her mind that she would be discovered now. Every last ounce of power that she held would be ruined. Her ‘friends’ would mock her exactly as she had done to so many others, maybe more so. Every possible insult ran through her mind, though none lingered long enough for her to focus on it. The blonde futa hugged her knees to her chin, steadily rocking to and fro. Her cock brushed along the damp toilet as she did so.

“I can’t go back to being like that,” Mary muttered under her breath, glowering at the thick streaks of her sperm running down the door, “No one will know. It’s just a rash. I can live with that.” She took several deep breaths, taking solace in the sensation of her large, expensive breasts pressing tight against her legs. No matter what, the school couldn’t know.

Mary exited the restroom with her bag slung over her arm, hanging it in front of her crotch. Classes didn’t matter to her, as such she made a beeline to the entrance, intending to see her doctor and make them solve this. It was just weird rashes, she told herself. A bit of ointment, maybe some special fabric, and everything would be fine. She rounded a corner, and her brisk pace froze. Carmen and Dakota paced along the hallway, attention on one another.

“Oh shit,” Mary muttered, eyes automatically fixing themselves onto Carmen. The blonde retreated, barely able to quell the panicked pounding of her heart, or the sudden influx of desire. Her torn skirt lifted slightly, revealing the tip of her purple head, “Fuck, uh…” she turned to face the wall, hoping that the two would walk by.

Their footsteps passed behind her. They seemed painfully slow, as if they were aware of the torment their presence caused her. She held her breath, determined to be unnoticed, and kept her gaze firmly away from Carmen. The thought inevitably brought her curiosity, and unwelcome desire to the surface. She glanced sideways and caught the sight of Carmen’s face vanishing behind the corner. The honour student was smiling.

“She looks good like that,” Mary mumbled, then shook her head vehemently, “Shut the fuck up.” She growled at herself and practically ran to the exit. By some miracle, she avoided Gretchen and the others on the way to her beat-up Volkswagen. The blonde let out a heavy sigh of relief as she slammed the door shut, relaxing into the worn leather seat. It was a second-hand car, but one of the few student vehicles around. She had never been so relieved to have it.

Mary quickly made an appointment with her doctor. To her continued fortune, someone had just cancelled. Minutes later and Mary parked in the clinic driveway. She rushed inside, taking care not to flip her skirt.

“I’m here to see Doctor Michaels.” Mary informed the secretary, fidgeting where she stood. The clerk barely glanced up from her desk and pointed to the left.

The room was cold. One of the wonders was ajar, and the thermostat said the heating was off. Of course, Mary thought, then realised the blessing. If her dick was cold, then it wouldn’t get erect. Probably. Either way, she barged through the door and into the clinical space. The walls were white and mostly barren, with only a single table in the middle with a green sheet draped across it. Counters and shelves lined the walls, housing an assortment of intimidating medical equipment.

“Hello, Mary. How’re things?” Her doctor inquired politely, smiling just as she always did despite knowing better.

“Fucking awful,” Mary groaned, sitting on the examination table and hanging her head into her hands. She kept her legs tight together, restraining a faint moan as her thighs pressed into her sensitive cock and balls.

“I gathered. What’s the problem exactly?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Mary nearly shouted, staring at the woman. Fear and confusion made her head pound, yet she couldn’t resist eying her doctor’s impressive physique. She was slightly overweight, with a pudgy stomach and muffin top, yet her breasts and hips reaped the benefits. Mary unconsciously licked her lips at the sight of her doctor’s obviously erect nipples.

“Jeez, when did you get such a dirty mouth?” Her doctor asked, dryly, then sat in front of the scantily clad blonde, “Just take a deep breath, and tell me what the problem is.”

“Okay,” Mary did as the doctor said, inhaling deeply. A thick shade of red flushed her cheeks as her shirt ripped further, unable to fully handle the scope of her valuable breasts, “I… I’m getting random rashes from my clothes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… wherever it touches me, I go bright red and it’s… it’s fucking painful,” Mary explained, unsurprised, but no less annoyed, when she saw a look of doubt on the doctor’s face, “Look.” She pulled her shirt up and pressed it against her breasts, holding it for a second before she released it with a pained gasp. Where the cloth had touched was now just as Mary had described.

“Then why’re you still wearing them?”

“It only affects certain, uh, parts of me,” Mary explained, mind flashing to her cock.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” the doctor pondered, “Has anything changed about you recently? Like diets, or your body? A new detergent? Perhaps your implants are causing it?”

“They’re not,” Mary resolutely replied.

“Okay, what about the rest?”

“I… I have, um, grown s-something,” Mary lowered her head and angled it away from the doctor’s watchful gaze, both afraid to draw attention to her thighs and that she might gawk at her company’s luscious figure. She hated feeling this way, like a scared animal about to be discovered and eaten.

“What exactly?”

“I can’t say,” Mary mumbled, gripping her shirt until her knuckles turned white.

“Mary, if you’ve ‘grown something’, then it’s possible that it could be cancerous. I need to know,” her doctor urged, soft and calm.

“Everything in this room is confidential, right?” Mary inquired, glancing around anxiously.

“Of course.”

“…okay,” Mary clenched her jaw and spread her legs wide, offering a perfect view of her mutated crotch. Her member hung over her huge balls, partially erect from her inadvertent staring. She glanced up at the doctor, whose face was a sculpted into shocked curiosity.

“Does it… does it work?” The professional inquired, visibly thrown off by the reveal.

“Yes…” Mary blushed harder, certain that she’d masturbated her cock as often as she’d fingered herself in just a few days. Her thoughts reached the flaccid member, causing it to throb against her oversized balls and rise, lifting her skirt.

“Oh, Mary,” her doctor made a show of fanning herself, “I’m flattered.”

“Stop fucking joking and fix this,” Mary snarled, even as her length extended and her girth swelled. Her eyes found the doctor’s large breasts of their own accord, summoning visions of the mounds wrapped around her comparatively small prick. The nipples looked huge, even constrained as they were by the bra.

“I don’t know what can be done, Mary. As far as I know, there’s never been anything like this. I can, um, prescribe an ointment for the rashes, but I don’t think anything can be done about… your friend, there,” Doctor Michaels informed her, struggling not to stare at the near-unmissable appendage. Even when Mary closed her legs around the growing erection, her gaze still darted back and forth between Mary’s crotch and face.

“Fine, just give me that then,” Mary grumbled, holding her hands over her unwelcome erection.

“Unless you want surgery to remove it?” Doctor Michaels offered.

“No!” Mary snapped, shocking herself, “Just give me the stupid lotion or whatever.”

Mary walked back into her home. She’d spent the last hour in a Starbucks, drinking and distracting herself, until the school day ended. Her mother was home, sat in the living room watching a show without paying much attention to it, instead focusing on her thick book. Tammy strolled up to her and offered a meow in greeting.

“I’m home!” Mary called.

“How was school, Sweetheart?” Her mother, Lianne, idly asked without looking up from her novel clearly enamoured by the subject matter. Mary squinted at her parent, noticing a faint tint to her face.

“Nothing much. What’re you reading?” Mary walked into the kitchen, setting a snack down for Tammy, while she made herself something.

“Nothing important,” Lianne answered, though her voice was rushed.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Mary teased, stepping upstairs.

“You’ll understand when you’re my age, young lady!” Lianne called back.

“Nope, I’m gonna be young and sexy forever,” Mary retorted.

“Wanna bet?” Lianne laughed. They fell silent as Mary entered her room. She threw her bag onto her bed and searched out the lotion. It was designed to soothe and prevent rashes, exactly what she needed. Mary poured a healthy amount into her hand and lathered it along her thick thighs, silently basking in the slight muscle beneath her skin. The slimy fluid was cool on her flesh and sent gentle tremors along her body.

She sighed and did the same for her arms and breasts. It took most of her willpower to keep from groping herself while doing so, however she couldn’t resist pinching her nipples. The curvaceous blonde, then, pulled her shirt up to cover her lavish tits. Her clothing stuck to the still damp lotion, clinging to her fake breasts.

“It worked?” Mary frowned, almost annoyed that there was such an easy solution all along. Albeit, an expensive one. She fell onto her bed, smirking victoriously. Now she could enjoy her horrid situation. A low moan vibrated in the back of her throat as she reached down to her crotch, finally allowing herself to indulge in her earlier arousal.

Mary gripped her cock and felt it rise to erection within her grasp. It throbbed heavily against her palm, as if angry at her for depriving it before. She stroked her thumb over the head, working in her extravagant pre-cum, by way of an apology. Sharp gasps escaped her lips as she soon occupied her other hand with her balls, ignoring her sodden pussy for now. She squeezed and massaged the powerful orbs and bounced them playfully. They sloshed against her palm.

“So full,” the lustful blonde groaned, “Fuck, I need to cum!” She yelped the final word, a sudden onset of fire dousing her flesh. Vibrant crimson marred her fair skin, angry pimples rising across the surface, bringing with them the painful need to keep pleasuring herself. Mary whimpered at the agony, taking one hand tearing at her clothes.

Her shirt was soon left in tatters, a thin strip hanging on her shoulder. Yet even that small amount of fabric made her skin burn horribly, while her skirt was tossed aside. She laid on her bed, perfectly naked, with her breasts jutting perversely forward on her chest as she rapidly stroked her small cock. It might’ve been her sudden madness, but it felt bigger than before. Her fingers were spread slightly further, and the veins were thicker than ever.

Mary returned to fondling her immense testes. Her flesh was sweaty from her recent panic, coating her palm and fingers in her musk. The smooth sack made every slight rise vastly more noticeable, as well as the way the contents churned powerfully. Potent rivulets of pre-cum poured from her cock, joining in the slick mess. Her hips thrust into her hands, urging her fluids to splash against her stomach.

“Carmen,” Mary cooed without thought, eyes bursting wide open as she imagined being pinned by the honour student. She tried to simply focus on her own pleasure, but her imagination refused to let her half-ass the fantasy. Carmen straddled the irresistible blonde, checking a series of restraints, making certain that Mary couldn’t move. The honour student, then, tied a ball gag around Mary’s mouth.

“There’s a good pet. Now, Mistress is going to use your teeny-tiny penis,” ‘Carmen’ explained, taking hold of the trapped futa’s cock to line it up with her pussy, “You’d better cum inside me, pet. Otherwise, I’ll have to punish you.”

Mary panted heavily as she watched the fantasy play out. Carmen began to ride her, bouncing heavily, flesh slapping together in dominant, thunderous smacks. Every descent made Mary’s balls pulsate in need, desperate to cum. Yet she couldn’t.

She hated this. Mary was always in control, always the one to make the first move and the last. Men who lusted after her answered to her beck and call, whatever that be. Money, pleasure, even an expensive piece of jewellery, they would give it to her. That was her place in the world.

“Oh fuck!” Mary shouted as she came, envisioning her explosive load bursting within Carmen Robin’s pussy, inundating it in semen and pouring sperm into her fertile womb. Spurt after spurt were released as her fantasy milked her cock for every drop, even as cum poured out from around it.

“I barely felt your dick, pet. You should really grow bigger. Show off what a slutty pet you are.”

“Yes,” Mary hissed and licked her lips, clearing a rope of semen from her mouth. Her orgasm stumbled to a halt, sputtering the few remaining drops of her prolific load. A pool gathered around her navel, while thick splatters dirtied the rest of her. She ran her fingers through the gooey mess, noticing that it was even thicker than before. What was happening to her?

Mary sucked her fingers clean. Her tongue worked fervently, suckling every drop of her delicious jizz. She almost didn’t want to swallow, but she did as her cheeks began to puff out. The usually powerful, controlling blonde let her arms fall flat by her sides and panted heavily. Tremors of her orgasm rocked through her, eking out the remnants of her climax. Anyone could walk inside, and she’d be powerless to stop them.

She gathered her wits and grabbed her phone. Mary hit the speed dial for Gretchen, slowly calming her breathing.

“Hey, Gretchen.”

“Where the fuck did you go?” Gretchen demanded, a faint rumbling in the background.

“I can call later if you’re driving.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Got you on speaker. Let’s repeat, where the fuck did you go?”

“I, uh, got sick. So, I went home,” Mary lied, glancing down at her semen streaked figure.

“You better not have given it to me,” Gretchen warned.

“I doubt it,” Mary muttered, shaking her head to lose the thought of Gretchen being in a similar situation as her.

“What’d you call for, anyway?”

“I need a favour.”

“What kind?”

“Just a small one. All my fucking skirts shrank, so I need you to get your mom to let me wear shorts or something,” Mary explained. It came out more naturally than the other lies, probably because it was half-true.

“Why do you care about permission? Haven’t you been coming in without panties on for years now?” Gretchen laughed.

“I figured I’d avoid any problems this way,” Mary answered.

“Yeah, whatever. Want to go out later? The girls and I are meeting up at a bar,” Gretchen offered, “Plan is to get drunk and fuck any guy that moves.”

“Fuck ye…” Mary cut herself short, eyes finding her still semi-erect prick, standing up from her groin like a small pillar, “Actually, I’d better stay in. Don’t want to puke after one drink like a fucking lightweight.”

“But that’s boring!” Gretchen whined, then exhaled heavily, “Fine. It’d probably scare off the dicks if you did that.”

“I can make it up to you,” Mary promised.


“Remember Steven?”

“College quarterback?”

“Yeah, I’ve got his number,” Mary lauded.

“Lucky bitch. His dick was… what? Nine inches?” Gretchen laughed, voice gaining a hint of excitement.

“He said ten,” Mary recalled.

“Fuck the hell yes,” Gretchen groaned, “You’d better shut up now. I might start fingering myself if we talk about him.”

“Yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mary said.

“Only if the night goes poorly,” Gretchen giggled, then hung up. Mary stared at her phone, briefly imagining herself and Gretchen messing around together. They’d kissed before, mostly out of boredom or to lure in some guys, and more during a rare threesome. She set the device down and leisurely stroked her cock, wondering how her friend would react to it.

“’You’re a freak’ that’s what she’d say,” Mary mourned, “Or ‘get the fuck away you disgusting bitch’. She’d probably get me expelled just for this thing.” The blonde rolled onto her side, rivers of jizz oozing down her torso to soak into her bedsheets. Her smell was everywhere, saturating the air as she breathed it in. Despite herself, Mary’s hand began to stroke her length.

Hours later, Mary stripped down for bed. She’d forced herself to stay downstairs after dinner, using her parents to avoid the urges wracking her mind and body. It worked, but only to a certain extent. She never thought she’d be so glad for her parents to be so inattentive. Rather, she did, but she expected to be if she got pregnant or started doing drugs. Not because of a small, yet insatiable cock.

The blonde flopped down onto her comfortable mattress and sighed in elation. She hadn’t had any wet dreams yet, giving her hope that at least sleep was still safe for her. Even so, she didn’t dare sleep with clothes on. Morning wood was still an issue as she learned the morning after her sudden growth.

Mary propped herself on her elbows and peered down between the firm valleys of her breasts. Her cock was flaccid, yet she knew it could change at the slightest thought, especially with her silk sheets brushing against it. Another orgasm would help, she determined and wrapped her fingers around the soft length once more. Her brow furrowed deeply when she realised that it felt as big as her erection.

“Oh fuck, no,” Mary groaned and sat up, then leaned forward to properly inspect the now hand-filling piece of meat. It was undoubtedly longer than before, and much thicker. Her balls were the same. Even her baggiest pair of shorts wouldn’t hide them. Granted, she didn’t own any clothing that could be called ‘loose’.

No, she thought and looked carefully. She should have at least one pair that’d work, though that could change with an erection. Mary licked her lips, both afraid of what she might see and eager to see it. The blonde languidly jerked her soft shaft until it hardened against her smooth skin. It expanded almost a full inch longer in length, extending past her fingers, while the girth threatened to separate her tips.

Mary sighed in relief at the sight. She could easily hide this, presuming it didn’t get any bigger that is. The futa pushed aside her worries and replaced her focus back where she wanted it; on her throbbing mast. Despite cumming twice that day, and several more the day prior, her cock didn’t ache in the slightest. Like it could take any amount of abuse and still return for more.

“Hmm,” Mary moaned as she pleasured herself once more, her free hand finding her pussy behind her larger balls. They weighed heavily on her palm as her fingers pushed past her engorged vulva, working her insides to a sloppy mess. Pre-cum poured from her cock as her pleasure surged. Her orgasm wouldn’t be far.

She quickened her strokes and curled her fingers to scratch at her sensitive walls. Mary gasped and bucked against her ministrations, quickly losing herself in the building ecstasy. Minor bursts of pleasure detonated across her nerves as she masturbated her twin genitals, pumping her fingers and jerking her hand faster and faster. Her balls rubbed against her forlorn clit as she worked.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” Mary panted, smiling up at her ceiling. Double orgasms were simply the best, easily outdoing anything she’d before. How would it feel inside someone’s pussy? Inside Carmen’s snatch? Her addled mind didn’t fight the fantasy this time, letting it run rampant. Until the door cracked open.

Mary reacted faster than she would’ve expected from herself. She grabbed her sheets and pulled them over her body, laying away from the door. The covers brushed against the sensitive tip of her cock, sending a final drop of gasoline onto her fiery bliss. Mary bit hard into her lip, almost drawing blood, as her cock spewed a torrent of jizz. It was absorbed by the sheets, subsuming the fruity scent of her freshly washed bed in the decadent musk.

“Night, sweetheart,” Lianne said, followed by a soft, furry body jumping onto Mary’s bed. It curled up by her head, avoiding the drenched portion of the mattress and began to purr. The door shut and Mary’s breaths gradually returned to normal. Her heart still pounded in her chest.

“Of course that would be amazing,” Mary muttered, before passing out in a state of elation. She inevitably rolled over and bathed her cock in its sordid ejaculate.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 8 - Mary's Discovery

Mary resisted the urge to adjust herself as she strode into the school. Gretchen followed her, teasing Ashley and Zoey while Rachel skulked along behind them. None of them were paying attention to her, though the rest of the student body kept her in sight constantly. She knew they were wary of her, rightfully so, yet it didn’t empower or inspire her as it had before. Instead, it made her heart drum fearfully.

She forced her head to stay upright and confident. No one could know about the terror that loomed over her, like a cloud that wreathed her in uncertainty. A freshman caught her eye and hastily looked away. Did she know? Mary ground her teeth together and kept her hands at her sides. It’s not obvious, it’s not obvious, it’s not obvious. She repeated the mantra in her mind.

“What about you, Mary?” Gretchen popped up, startling the blonde.

“About what?” Mary responded and tried to keep her expression neutral.

“I think we should take a few days off school while Ashley’s parents are away for business,” Gretchen began, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Not again, Gretchen,” Ashley whined, “It took the maids all night to clean up after last time. And I… I really don’t want to see any of that again.”

“Of course not,” Gretchen derided with a roll of her eyes, “You’re gonna join in this time. I’ve got a bunch of guys with a thing for fat chicks.”

“I’m not fat,” Ashley weakly objected.

“Sorry, ‘curvy’ girls,” Gretchen amended, briefly showing a soft smile, “Either way, they go nuts for a nice, plump girl like you.”

“I don’t really care,” Ashley insisted.

“Bah,” Gretchen dismissed her and turned to Zoey, “What about you, Zoey? You’ve got a fuck-ton of stamina, right?”

“Uh… um, no comment?” Zoey shirked away, slipping back to practically hide behind Rachel, despite being almost two feet taller than the petite redhead.

“For the record, I couldn’t give a shit,” Rachel shrugged.

“What’s with everyone?” Gretchen groaned, “We’re seniors, it’s time that we get fucking laid as often as possible.”

“College would be better for that,” Mary reasoned, “All those hunks milling around the campus, eager for freshman pussy…”

“That’s true,” Gretchen smirked, “But still...”

“What about a sleepover tonight?” Ashley offered, “No guys, no sex… no drugs,” she stared pointedly at Gretchen, who raised her hands innocently, “Just us girls.”

“Could be fun,” Zoey offered.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Rachel, again, shrugged.

“Sure,” Mary reluctantly agreed. If she declined this seemingly innocent offer to hang around her friends without any just reason, then they’d know something was wrong, “Besides, you’ve got a few cute butlers, don’t you Ashley?” The rich girl blushed but nodded.

“Fine,” Gretchen sighed, “I’ll see you boring bitches at lunch.” Daughter of the principal or not, Gretchen was incapable of staying out of class and school without permission. Not that she put any effort into her classes. There was no reason to. Her report card always read ‘straight A’s’ with no difficulty during lessons. Mostly thanks to the plump, rich girl that followed Mary like a stray dog desperate for attention or a scrap of food. No teacher would decline their salary being doubled to turn the cheek for a few students.

Mary soon came to her classroom. She ducked inside, glancing briefly at her group. Her eyes strayed to Ashley’s naturally abundant chest, the shirt strained around a pair of breasts that more than suited her plump figure. They bounced with the girl’s stride, capturing Mary’s attention before they went out of sight, yet that only brought Ashley’s equally boastful rear into view. Stockings disappeared up the skirt that was stretched around the cheeks.

She’s actually kind of hot. Mary shook her head and dug her long, meticulous nails into her palms to break the beginnings of her arousal. Even so, what little of her body that was concealed burned. It was better than the cold, she thought in the hopes of distracting herself. The blonde strutted into the classroom and to her seat, ignoring the stares that affixed themselves to her expensive assets.

Her shoulders were bare as was her belly. It wasn’t unusual for her to wear such attire during the summer, or at a club, but this was winter. The season had bit at her skin and snaked its way into her meagre clothes, both as a blessing and a means of torture. On one hand, her cock would shrink away from the chill, on the other her nipples pushed and rubbed against her shirt.

Mary kept her eyes down at her phone, afraid to look around and spot someone attractive. It had been two days since her rashes had gotten worse. The lotion did nothing. Rather, it only made her hornier. The sight of her body glistening and how it felt for her hands to glide along her skin, particularly her cock, never failed to spark a long session of self-indulgence.

Mary sighed in resignation as she glanced at her shorts. They only just grazed her mid-thigh, a dangerous territory; one slip and her skin would turn bright red from the usually light tan. Within them, however, was something far deadlier to her. A cock that had only grown ridiculously over the past forty-eight hours. She could see the faint bulge of it despite her relatively baggy shorts.

“You got something to say?” Mary growled, glancing sideways at a gawking girl. She was the archetypal nerd, though more akin to main characters in movie; awkward looking, yet irrefutably gorgeous beneath the nerdy exterior. The blonde tightened her jaw as she peaked at the girl’s plentiful tits, only a couple of sizes below Ashley’s.

“S-sorry,” the awkward, curvy girl quickly stammered and returned her attention to the blackboard, stuffing her hands under the desk to grab at her legs worriedly. Mary unconsciously licked her lips as the girl inadvertently mashed her breasts together, pushing them out further.

“Fuck,” Mary sighed. She caught herself and jerked her head back to her phone, vehemently scrolling through Twitter for anything to clear her traitorous mind. Was it really a traitor though? She wondered as one leg bounced nervously. Mary wouldn’t think that she was unattracted to women, it was just that guys had something she’d valued highly before. Now that thing was in her possession. What did a man have that she wanted anymore?

She’s quieted down. Carmen noted as she glanced behind her at the artificially curvy blonde that sat toward the back of the class, a far cry from her usual frontward seat. The honour student had arrived after Mary to find her preferred seat was taken. A lot had apparently changed since Carmen wrote in the book for the third time. Though Mary’s cruelty was still largely present, she seemed hesitant about participating in it. Most of her usual victims were handled by Gretchen at Mary’s insistence.

“Perhaps she’s a sadist?” Ryuka chuckled, her brilliant red eyes once again seeming to read Carmen’s thoughts.

“Maybe,” Carmen sighed, glancing tiredly at the Seikogami, “Though I’m surprised that someone like her would figure it out so soon.” She added under her breath, careful to avoid catching anyone’s attention.

“Appearances aren’t always what they seem… isn’t that something you humans say?” Ryuka offered, floating down to hover in front of the human.

“Only when appearances matter,” Carmen muttered, peeking disparagingly at the secret futa. Surprising or not, Mary deserved to be what was done to her and anything further that happened. Just because she wasn’t actively participating in her usual antics made no difference. Carmen returned her focus to her studies.

Perhaps she was the embodiment of what Ryuka had said now; a seemingly normal girl with a high GPA that hid something certifiably insane. Even now, with her eyes buried in her notebook, the Futa Note nipped at her consciousness like an attention starved puppy. Carmen breathed slowly, calming her thoughts. What was done, was done, and it was for the better, she thought.

“Carmen Robins?” The teacher said, trudging into the classroom with barely a glance at the students, despite being late.

“Yes?” Carmen frowned, raising her head. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? The honour student scoured her brain, trying to make certain. There was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from being able to avoid Mary and her group.

“The principal would like to you see in her office. Get going,” the instructor pointed to the door without so much as a glimpse at Carmen.

“Okay,” Carmen intoned, still perplexed by this turn of events, “Any reason why?”

“How should I know?”

“Helpful as always,” Carmen mumbled and packed away her stuff. She twisted her head around to peer at Mary, and caught a brief glimpse of her gaze, before the blonde swiftly lowered her head. It’s not her doing, Carmen thought. That only made it harder to ascertain why she was being called in. There hadn’t been any tests recently, nor had she done anything particularly outstanding in class either.

Carmen’s brow remained furrowed even as she knocked on the principal’s door. There was no secretary, her position terminated to save money, and only two cheap, plastic chairs functioned as the waiting area. Even the water dispenser was cracked and caked in rust, eerie drips falling into the lonely cup that waited for someone to try their luck with the waiting death trap. The door was only the only thing that looked remotely intimidating, painted a vibrant white with a simple, dull gold plaque reading ‘Principal Blake’s Office’.

“Come in.”

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?” Carmen inquired as she stepped inside, inwardly cringing at how the hinges creaked. The principal’s office resembled the school to a degree. It was large and daunting, yet a keen glance revealed how poorly kept the room was. The floorboards squeaked beneath Carmen’s feet as she approached the worn swivel chair, the wheels of which had long since ceased to work.

“Yes, my daughter has brought something rather worrying to my attention,” Principal Blake began, setting aside a piece of paper onto a stock of others as if she were finished, yet Carmen could see that several parts of it were left blank. She sank into the broken chair and nodded for the principal to continue, “Apparently, you’ve been engaging in crass activities with another student.”

“Crass activities, ma’am?” Carmen frowned, while she restrained herself from showing any disdain for Gretchen.

“Yes, crass. According to Gretchen, you’ve been sneaking into the lavatories with a ‘Dakota Weiss’ and doing unmentionable acts. I hope you understand, but I cannot allow such things to take place in this school. The other girls may be tainted by it.”

“Dakota and I are just friends, ma’am,” Carmen assured her, “Besides, I’m too busy for a relationship like that.”

“Ah, yes,” Principal Blake smiled and relaxed into her second-hand lavish chair, “Sorry, Carmen. But I can’t afford to alienate any funders. Please understand?”

“Don’t worry, I know,” Carmen nodded, all too familiar with financial difficulties, “Should you really be working this hard, though?” She nodded to the stack of incomplete papers, then glanced at the weathered face of this woman who was no older than forty.

“I have to,” the principal sighed, running a hand through her greying hair. She grimaced at the sight of some loose strands hanging on her fingers, “Underachievers, changing economy, ne’er-do-wells…”

“Your health is important, ma’am,” Carmen reminded her.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she waved off the concern and sighed, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Carmen smiled and stood, “If that’s all, I should return to class.”

“Yes,” Principal Blake nodded and softly gestured for Carmen to leave, “Oh, one more thing,” she stopped the honour student, “Gretchen mentioned that you and Mary might’ve had an ‘altercation’ the other week.”

“I hate her,” Carmen professed, “But I’m not violent, ma’am.”

“I wish you girls would get along,” the principal sighed heavily, “God, I thought an all-girls school would be easier than co-ed.”

“It’s people’s nature,” Carmen said with a shrug, “Don’t overwork yourself, ma’am.” She waved at the principal and left the room, exhaling in relief. Gretchen trying to get her in trouble was nothing new, though if it had been anyone else they’d have been expelled on the spot. The honour student pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, wishing that they had a more competent principal. Like her mother.

The sound of heels snapping against the hard floor broke her free. Carmen looked up to see Mary rushing in the opposite direction, hands clenched into tense fists. The blonde rounded a corner, giving Carmen a quick glimpse of her crotch, which bulged out in an auspicious shape.

“Tempted to see your handiwork?” Ryuka teased.

“Not at all,” Carmen refused and continued back to the classroom, sparing a final glance at where the blonde once was. What triggered her this time? Carmen wondered, then shrugged and walked back inside. It was none of her business what made Mary suffer, only that she had caused it.

Mary cursed and grunted as she barged through the stall door. It slammed against the wall, before she clicked the latch shut. She frantically pulled at her clothes, desperate to find relief from the pain that lanced across her flesh. Soft thumps joined her gasps. Every inch of her torso from the waist up was bright red, just like every time her cock grew hard.

“Every fucking time,” Mary growled, sneering down at the hard shaft that jutted from her crotch at a perfect ninety-degree angle, its purple tip already smeared in pre-cum. The insides of her shorts were damp with it and her pussy, coating her crotch in their musk. She breathed heavily, filling her lungs with the scent, “All because of that stupid, goddamn, fucking…”

She trailed off and sat down on the toilet seat. This would make eight times in little over a week. The stall might as well have her name painted in cum on the front, although the smell of her repeated ejaculations more than did the job. Mary bit her lip and regarded her prick.

“Because of Carmen,” Mary moaned as she took hold of her member, stroking it in a motion that was becoming increasingly familiar. The damned honour student kept getting into her head, even when she was quiet. Just her name was enough to trigger the fantasies now, each of them more depraved than the last. Bondage or simple doggy style or a weekend sex marathon…

Her fingers squeezed around her swollen head and pushed out a river of pre. It quickly turned her shaft into a slippery mast, allowing her hand to glide across it. The friction lessened as her fluids flowed liberally, coating her fingers and cock in layer after layer. She stroked along her tip, moaning at the sensations of something so sensitive. Mary struggled to conclude whether her clit was the more sensitive part now.

It seemed like the more her cock grew, the better it felt. She stared down at her prick through half-lidded eyes, struggling to keep her mind focused. There was no denying that it had grown, not when her dick almost doubled the length of her fist. And only in a few days. Mary’s veins pulsated powerfully while her pussy undulated in pleasure. A few minutes later and she was caught in her climax.

“This sucks,” Mary grumbled when she exited the restroom. Her shorts felt tighter than before, rubbing against her secret. She froze at the sound of footsteps passing by and looked up from her unsuitable clothes, watching as a teacher walked in front of her. They turned to peer down at her, then continued on their way. It’s too much, Mary thought. Everyone that she saw felt like they could potentially discover her.

And there was that sleepover.

“You can’t be serious?” Gretchen mumbled around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“Yeah,” Ashley spoke up, “Please, Mary? We never hang out like that. It’s always with a bunch of guys or something.”

“I just… I don’t feel like it, guys,” Mary shrugged.

“Hell no,” Gretchen refuted, “You baled the other night, not this time. What the fuck’s gotten into you anyway?”

“Nothing,” Mary quickly snapped, “Just… fucking period shit, you know?”

“Oh,” the group collectively rolled their eyes, one of the few moments that Mary had seen them in total harmony. To an outsider, they looked like friends to some extent, yet that was far from true. Mary glanced between them, knowing full well that she only played nice with them for her own benefit. Ashley had more money than she knew what to do with, Zoey was big and intimidating when she was told to be, Gretchen had near total sway over the school and Rachel… she kept Zoey around.

“Could’ve just said something,” Ashley admonished.

“Yeah, but you’re still coming,” Gretchen stated, slinging an arm over the blonde’s shoulders. Mary’s breath hitched in her throat. She could smell Gretchen clearly; the girl practically reeked of sex and desire. Mary glanced at her friend’s phone, seeing a text thread with a massive cock on blatant display.

“Careful what you say,” Mary warned and wriggled her eyebrows knowingly, shooting a look at the image.

“Shut up,” Gretchen laughed, “What do ya think anyway? Keeper?”

“Definitely,” Mary nodded, though the picture did nothing more than make her wonder if she was bigger than that. It looked at least eight inches long from the picture. How long would it be before she grew that big?

“So, the sleepover’s still happening tonight?” Zoey inquired with a glance at Rachel.

“Yeah,” Mary affirmed, grasping her thigh tightly to stop the leg from bouncing. This is a bad idea. Mary thought and looked between each girl, dreading what might happen later that night. If she was lucky, she’d make it out from the death trap with her secret intact. The blonde nearly laughed at herself. She knew Karma wouldn’t be that kind.

“Why the fuck did I agree to this?” Mary mumbled into the wheel of her car. She glanced up at the daunting house, three rows of windows, one for each floor, beneath a high-arched roof. It was painted white with silver and gold trimmings, a display of wealth simply for that very reason. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the front yard and lead up to the door, with statues of random gods or famous people. But the terrifyingly massive estate was incapable of frightening the blonde – she had seen it before – no, it was the people inside that had her heart in the middle of her throat.

The moment they found out about her, everything would come crumbling down. Mary pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, sneering at the dozens of boys that filled the list, before settling on Dakota’s number. She didn’t bother to delete it after the German dyke came out. The blonde sighed and tapped it. Did Dakota feel the same way before?

The call only went to a dial tone. Mary tried again, frowning at the house.

“What do you want?”

“Dakota…” Mary began, biting her bottom lip, “When did you know?”

“Know what?” Dakota growled.

“Look, I’m going through some hard shit right now,” Mary groaned.

“Yeah, having everything you want must be so hard,” Dakota snarked.

“When did you know you were gay?” Mary blathered.

“When I started masturbating to girls. We done?”

“And Carmen’s gay too?”

“Yeah,” Dakota sighed, as if she were speaking with a little child.

“How is it? Y’know? Being with another girl?” Mary mumbled, glancing around as if someone would spontaneously appear within earshot of her.

“No idea. I haven’t even kissed one yet.”

“What?! Then, how do you know?” Mary blanched at the statement.

“I just do. Like, I look at Carmen and I get so har… uh, wet,” Dakota explained.

“Can I ask a favour?” Mary whispered, almost incapable of believing what she was about to ask.

“What the hell? You treat me worse than shit and now you’re expecting me to do you a fucking favour? Go to hell, Mary… or somewhere worse. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck,” Dakota snarled.

“I just want a kiss,” Mary blabbered, almost hyperventilating into the receiver.

“… what?”

“One kiss… I have to know something,” Mary elucidated, biting her lip as the door to Ashley’s needlessly large house opened to reveal the plump, rich girl. She looked around and spotted Mary’s car in the distance, then waved to her with a relieved smile. The blonde was fully aware that she treated Ashley with indifference at the best of times, yet she knew that Gretchen was relentless with the girl. How bad was it that Ashley looked forward to having Mary there?

“You’re crazier than I thought. Just kiss one of your cronies,” Dakota muttered and hung up. Mary gulped at the statement, eyes locked onto Ashley.

“Oh fuck,” Mary breathed as she came to a realisation. She had a crush on Ashley, or rather, she lusted after Ashley. It wouldn’t be hard to kiss her. The girl was always too eager to earn approval from anyone, even Gretchen or the mostly stoic Rachel. One command and she’d let Mary do nearly anything. Anything, Mary thought and ran her tongue across her chapped lips. She shook the idea loose and pulled out her Chapstick.

“About time you showed up!” Ashley exclaimed in relief. She held the door open, gesturing for Mary to come inside.

“Sorry, had to deal with some shit,” Mary explained and stepped inside. It was impossible for her to behave nonchalantly in this house, the sheer scale and affluence on display never failing to captivate her. Or to make her envious of the naturally buxom brunette that lived inside it.

“Aren’t you cold?” Ashley asked, nodding to Mary’s attire.

“No, Ashley, I’m shivering because I’m so fucking exited. Yes, I’m fucking cold,” Mary exasperated.

“What about your coat?” Ashley inquired.

“Forgot it,” Mary lied, inwardly wincing at the idea of wearing one now.

“I’ve got plenty that might fit if you’d like to borrow one,” Ashley offered, smiling excitedly as if she were a puppy that had brought back the ball.

“No… it’s alright,” Mary assured her. Just over a week ago and she would’ve taken that chance and more. Ashley, naturally, owned some of the best clothes in the city. Almost nothing was too extravagant for the curvy brunette. Mary turned to regard her ‘friend’ and her eyes inevitably found their way to Ashley’s pyjamas.

They were a stark contrast to the day’s outfit. Ashley was a conservative dresser, despite the stylish brands stockpiled in her wardrobes, usually doing all she could to hide her pudgy figure. Now, however, Ashley was adorned in nothing but a shirt and shorts. Her braless breasts rested heavily on her belly, her nipples teasing Mary’s eyes through the top, while Ashley’s luscious thighs extended from her quarter-length shorts. The pants were stretched tight around her wide hips.

Mary quickly turned her attention away and onto a random painting, “New?” She asked, nodding to it. She knew it wasn’t, having made the same comment in the past, but the platinum blonde had to distract herself somehow.

“No,” Ashley shook her head and walked forward, heading down the large foyer and into the furthest room on the left, “Come on, everyone’s waiting. We’ve got slumber party games!” She announced. It might’ve been Mary’s imagination, but she could’ve sworn that Ashley looked disappointed. Does she know? Mary wondered as she followed, heart pounding against her lungs.

“About time you made it!” Gretchen reiterated Ashley’s earlier call. She was dressed in her nightwear as well, though it was loose on her sleek frame and only held up by her augmented breasts. Her lower-half had no such worries, as she only wore a pair of black lacy panties. They looked slightly crusty from Mary’s perspective. She turned an arched eyebrow onto the girl, who only winked in response.

Mary was a self-confessed slut. She loved sex almost as much as she adored her cat, the thought of which made her ponder just what her life could end up like. The reason she hadn’t joined Gretchen the past few nights brushed against her inner thigh, jerking softly at the sight before her. She tore her gaze from her friend, soon trailing over to Zoey and Rachel on a large couch.

The athlete only wore a sports bra and shorts, showing off her tanned skin. She wasn’t curvy, though curves would only ruin the girl’s appearance. Her height should’ve worked against her sleek frame, making her appear gangly and uncoordinated, if not for Zoey’s slight, but noticeable, musculature. A keen contrast to Rachel’s petite physique and pale complexion. Mary drilled her gaze into the lush carpet below.

“So, what’re we playing first?” Ashley pushed, while Mary claimed a plush seat to herself. Gretchen sat to her right, while the others all shared the couch. A large coffee table sat between them.

“Truth or dare?” Zoey offered.

“5 minutes in the closet?” Rachel followed.

“Spin the bottle?” Ashley finished.

“Pfft,” Gretchen scoffed and produced a bottle Jack Daniels from behind a chair and brought it down on the table with a loud clang, “Let’s do some drinking games. I even brought lemonade and coke for any lightweights.” Her eyes passed across everyone but Mary. The blonde smirked and raised her hand for the bottle. It was open, though only a small amount had been drunk. She arched a knowing brow at Gretchen, then set the whiskey down.

“Never Have I Ever,” Mary declared, turning her smile on everyone present.

“Sure,” Gretchen grinned.

“Why?” Ashley whined, but she nodded regardless, as did Zoey and Rachel.

“Want me to mix it with some soda for you lightweights,” Gretchen teased, revealing a baby’s bottle, one with Ashley’s name written in elegant script. The rich girl blushed heavily and vehemently refused. Unsurprisingly, the last two didn’t want to be singled at out either. They would all drink from the bottle.

“Right, never have I ever… slept with a guy,” Mary started, raising her hand without lowering a finger. She watched in glee as the others, save for Gretchen, all lowered a digit and took a short gulp from the bottle.

“My turn,” Gretchen announced, “Never have I ever… done it in the ass.” Again, her and Mary’s fingers remained upstanding. The cycle then turned to Zoey, whose face was scrunched into a sour expression.

“Ugh, that stuff’s so bitter,” Zoey complained, “Um… never have I ever… uh, pass?”

“Really?” Mary rolled her eyes, “That means only you take a drink, Zoey.” The athlete’s face further soured as she tried to think of something.

“Never have I ever… done 100 push-ups,” Zoey sighed in relief as everyone lowered a finger and drank.

“Pussy,” Mary chided, then looked to Rachel. She was the quiet one in the group, though when she became involved she went all the way.

“Never have I ever played this shitty game,” Rachel’s lips tilted as the rest of the group lowered their second fingers.

“Bitch,” Mary muttered around a hearty glug of whiskey. She pulled the bottle away with a satisfied gasp, handing it to Gretchen. It was significantly lighter now, almost half the fluid emptied from it, though most of that had been Mary. After the past week, she needed a good drink, “You’re up, Ash.”

“Yeah, hmm… never have I ever, uh, kissed a girl.”

Mary and Gretchen glanced at each other, then lowered their fingers and took another unnecessarily long drink. The rich girl gawked at them and leaned forward.

“What was it like?” Ashley inquired, eyes wide as if she were seeing an endangered species up close and in the wild.

“Dunno,” Gretchen shrugged, “I’m always drunk when it happens.”

“Then how do you know you did it?” Ashley frowned at the information.

“Videos,” Mary stated, pulling out her phone with a half-drunken smile and showed a video of the two making out in front of a bunch of guys, “Always good to have some ammo for a guy. Helps get it up for another round.”

“Okay,” Ashley noted, watching the footage diligently as if she were in class.

“On with the game!” Gretchen yelled and raised the bottle in salute, “I wanna be drunk before ten o’clock.”

“You’re already drunk,” Mary muttered, “Never have I ever… been asked to do a porno.” Her finger stayed up, while everyone else’s went down.

“You never mentioned that,” Gretchen slurred after several mouthfuls. She was clearly inebriated, for her face was flushed and her eyes unfocused, “Um… never have I ever, popped a boner!” The dyed blonde giggled drunkenly as she took a long swig, despite the rules. Mary’s finger went down in her muddled mindset.

“What the hell?” Gretchen chortled as she thrust the bottle at Mary, “If you don’t wanna have a good time, just say.”

“Shut up, it’s just strong is all,” Mary grumbled and lowered her finger, then took a drawn-out drink, swallowing her terror at what she’d almost revealed, “Since the rules are out the window… let’s do truth or dare. I wanna feel like a kid again.”

“Whatever. Ashley, you start,” Gretchen mumbled and leaned down low into the chair, grumbling incoherently as her shorts rode up her ass, pulling tight against her snatch in a distinct camel toe. Mary quickly looked away.

“Sure,” the rich girl agreed and fixed her gaze on Mary, frowning slightly as if confused by something, “Truth or dare, Mary?”

“Dare,” Mary grinned cockily.

“I dare you to kiss me,” Ashley smirked back, though her cheeks were bright red, and she couldn’t meet Mary’s gaze.

“First,” Mary glanced around, then leaned forward with a cruel glimmer in her eye, “Truth or dare, Ashley?”

“Truth,” Ashley hesitantly declared, shrinking away.

“Have you ever kissed someone before? And family doesn’t count,” Mary added.

“N-no,” Ashley admitted.

“Alright, come on,” Mary jumped up and spread her arms out to balance herself, the alcohol messing with her equilibrium, “I’m a slut, but even I know a first shouldn’t be in front of people.”

“So, you can be nice sometimes,” Rachel commented.

“Shut up,” Mary snapped and grabbed Ashley, pulling her up to lead her out into the other room. Am I really about to do this? The blonde futa thought as she brought her ‘friend’ into the foyer, then pushed her against the wall to look down at her.

“Um, you don’t really have to do this,” Ashley whispered, eyes going everywhere but Mary’s face. They looked at her breasts, or her shoulder, or even the dimly lit paintings that lined the walls around them.

“Close your eyes,” Mary ordered, her voice airy and softly garbled from the alcohol, “Tilt your head back and part your lips.”

“O-okay,” Ashley stammered. Mary leaned down until her whiskey-tainted breath brushed along the girl’s lips. The blonde gulped, swallowing her nerves and quelling her burgeoning arousal, then pressed her lips into the plump teen’s.

It was exactly as Mary had expected, and somehow more. Soft and moist, welcoming in a way as Mary’s lips pushed harder. Their shapes conformed to hers, almost submitting to the domineering blonde. Her body leaned closer to Ashley, hard implants squishing the soft naturals beneath them, as she teased the girl’s mouth with her tongue. A soft moan was all the permission she needed to deepen the kiss.

Licks of want lashed at her self-control. Mary’s hands slid down the wall, no longer barring Ashley’s escape, to find the girl’s broad, soft hips and pull them tight. The alcohol in her system emboldened her, yet Mary was certain that she was lucid at that moment. She shoved her worries aside to simply enjoy the way Ashley felt against her.

Beads of arousal leaked through her willpower. They flowed through her veins, hastened by the whiskey, and filled her loins. Mary groaned against the plump lips and moved a leg between Ashley’s thighs, raising her knee against the girl’s crotch just as numerous guys had done to Mary. Her chest rumbled powerfully.

“What’s taking you two so long?!” Gretchen’s indistinct voice shattered the moment as she stepped into the foyer, visibly upset. She held the now empty bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand, “What the fuck?!”

Mary pulled away from Ashley. She panted breathlessly, then looked at Gretchen, whose eyes had refocused and were locked to Mary’s lower body. The blonde frowned deeply as she followed the gaze. Horror replaced her dumbfounded expression, erasing any hint of the whiskey in her system. Mary backed away from Ashley, who also followed Gretchen’s stare and gasped in clear shock.

“I, uh…” Mary stammered, before a pained groaned vibrated in her throat. Her hands acted on instinct, tearing at her clothes as the rashes formed. In a matter of moments, her attire laid on the ground, partially torn, and her secret flopped out into the open. Silence inundated the air, holding all sound captive save for the weak breaths. Gretchen inhaled and bellowed with laughter.

“Mary’s a fucking dick-girl!” Gretchen roared and leaned into the door, shouting to Zoey and Rachel, “Hey, Mary’s got a fucking cock! Oh my god, what kind of disgusting freak are you? Is that why you, you took Ashley out here? Were you gonna sleep with her? Oh, you poor virgin bitch!”

“What’re you saying?” Mary whispered, barely heard over Gretchen’s hiccups, “We’re friends, right?”

“Ha!” Gretchen barked, leaning against the doorframe, “Yeah, right! Like I can be friends with a trans-freak like you? No wonder you always wanted to make out with me. You were trying to get in my pussy!”

“Mary…” Ashley began, clearly uncertain about which side she should take. Gretchen made the decision for her, slinging an arm over the rich girl’s shoulders and pulling her in close.

“Seriously? You’re not pissed at her? She was gonna try and fuck you, ya know? I mean, look at that boner!” Gretchen pointed at Mary’s erection, which hadn’t flagged in the slightest, despite the visceral turmoil dancing within the platinum blonde’s eyes. The world around her had become a derelict building in the process of being demolished. What little cement that remained had cracked and chipped. There was no paint on the ugly, brown-red bricks anymore.

“Oh my god,” Rachel’s voice spoke from the doorway, followed by a snicker. Somehow, that was the cue for the bulldozer in Mary’s mind to roar to life. It barged through the castle walls she’d built for herself. Snide laughter and hateful jeers echoed in her thoughts, not forgotten even after so many years. Now they came surging back, stronger than ever before as Gretchen’s drunken slurs continued unhindered.

Her life was ruined.

Mary grabbed her clothes and ran from the house. She ignored the gravel under her soft feet, gritting her teeth against the pain until she was in her car. The blonde looked at the doorway, seeing Gretchen’s leering teeth shining in the meagre light available. Ashley was behind her, doing nothing to dissuade the drunk’s actions. The others remained in the room. By morning, everyone would know. By the afternoon, she’d be an outcast. By the next day, she’d have nothing.

Carmen tucked Melody in tight. It was a cold night, the wind snaked through every crack in the abysmal structure, as if seeking out the warm bodies that slept within. She repressed a shiver and went out to check on their mother, adding another, hole-ridden blanket to her parent’s form. A pang of lament twisted her chest as she curled up in her own bed, using a tattered towel for herself.

If her dad was still alive then it wouldn’t be like this. Or if her mother hadn’t needed to quit being a principal for Melody or… Carmen chased away the thoughts. Nothing could change the past. She doubted even the Futa Note could do that. The honour student pulled the towel tight around her shoulders and pulled her knees close to her chest, hoping to keep what little warmth she could.

“I thought your studies were the most important thing to you?” Ryuka questioned, staring at the human incomprehensibly.

“Family comes first,” Carmen answered, eyes darting to her little sister.

“You know, you could just use the notebook and make yourself a walking fire or something,” Ryuka cackled.

“It can do that?” Carmen queried.

“Who knows?” Ryuka shrugged and chuckled, “It’s power could be limitless. The only thing I’ve seen that restricts it is morality, or Seikogami laws. Shame, really… you aren’t bound by those rules.”

“I’m not using it again,” Carmen affirmed, staring at the god defiantly.

“We’ll see…” Ryuka hovered down until she was level with Carmen’s bed, “Would you like me to lay with you?”

“What?” Carmen started at the abrupt offer, blinking in disbelief.

“My kind are designed to seduce; hence we never get cold,” Ryuka elucidated.

“Why would you want to help me, anyway? Last I checked, I just get on your nerves,” Carmen thinned her eyes.

“Do you want to freeze your tits off, or not?” Ryuka snapped and rolled her eyes.

“No funny business?”

“Well, I’d like an orange or two,” Ryuka mused.

“Fine,” Carmen agreed, holding her arms as if her hands would protect against a powerful gust of wind. The Seikogami landed on the bed, yet the mattress hardly sank, and turned around, presenting her back to the human. Carmen hesitantly moved closer and pressed her chilled form against the god’s back, unconsciously sighing at how warm it was, “Thank you.”

Ryuka remained silent. She hated to see such fragile things suffer, particularly humans, and getting a couple of oranges out of the deal was certainly a bonus. Not to mention that she was curious to see where Carmen would go one day. The girl harboured such delightful urges. It was obvious to a Seikogami’s eyes, the aura of raw, pent-up lust that surrounded Carmen Robins. That Mary girl was a perfect start for her.

Now if only she’d use the book more often. Ryuka thought with a silent chuckle and turned her head to peer at the sleeping human. All things to those who wait.

“Why do you want oranges, anyway?” Carmen asked.

“They’re a delicacy for my kind. Sadly, most of ours only taste like cum,” Ryuka explained.

“Interesting,” Carmen mumbled as she drifted off to sleep.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 9 - Mary's Salvation

Mary rested her head on her steering wheel. Cold air filled her lungs and poured from her lips in a misty path that split before her, with a majority streaming to the right, leaving just a little wisp to go it alone. Her shoulders quivered as bitter laughter rattled in her chest. Other students chortled and stampeded around her, ignorant to who sat amidst their leagues. Or they simply didn’t care. Why would they?

The blonde pulled out her new phone. It had been a week since the sleepover, since her social life was shattered like cheap glass. She had no one’s number on her device, nor did anyone know hers. Mary shoved her door open and jumped out, rubbing her naked arms in a futile shield against the wind that bit at her flesh like a million ants. They crawled across her limbs, leaving icy pinpricks wherever they went.

Mary climbed from her car and clenched her thighs. They were the only thing keeping her dick from sticking out. She had it tucked between her legs, pressed snugly against her pussy. Her cumbersome balls helped to hold it in place, finally useful for something other than making her shorts protrude noticeably. She pulled her handbag around to hand it in front of her groin.

The weekend had been a nightmare of trial and tribulation. She struggled to find a way to keep her ‘little friend’ secret, which became increasingly difficult as it grew. If no one saw it, then Gretchen’s words were only rumours, nothing more. The only solution, after finding out that tape would cause her rash, was her current predicament. Thankfully, her nerves and the cold barred any arousal from seeping into her consciousness.

“Excuse me,” someone said, pushing past her. Their shoulder bumped against hers, causing the blonde to stumble. Whoever the passer-by was, they didn’t care about who she is, or rather who she was. Mary hurried as her teeth began to chatter. Her nipples jutted out from her shirt like a pair of fingers pointing the way, leading her by the chest. She let out a shuddering sigh as she entered the building, a rush of warmth greeting her. As well as the snide giggling of a fellow blonde.

Mary’s vision zeroed in on the small group huddled around a set of lockers. Everyone gave them a wide berth, hushing their conversations and lowering their heads. Even so, Gretchen pulled some aside at random, locking onto any flaw that was available to her, before exploiting it. A pang of sympathy echoed in her chest.

“Look who it is!” Gretchen’s condescending voice speared through Mary’s ears, ricocheting in her head. She glanced to its source, barely able to repress a shudder. That night had been the worst of her life, and there was little doubt in her mind that Gretchen wanted to make sure she never forgot it.

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” the cruel-faced blonde sang, cackling as she slung an arm over the outcasted girl’s shoulders. Ashley and the others quickly joined her, crowding around their former leader.

“What do you want, Gretchen?” Mary growled and straightened her back, peering down at her former best friend. Almost five years of friendship and there wasn’t a trace of kindness left on Gretchen’s face, only a demeaning sneer that Mary had cultivated in her. Now it betrayed her. How long had it been since she saw that expression turned on her?

“Do I need a reason to make fun of the biggest freak of the century?” Gretchen laughed. To a stranger, it might seem pleasant, like the jovial tone of a child.

“There’s plenty of trans people,” Mary muttered, thinking of the shemale porn stars she’d begun to watch more and more. None of them were like her, though, a futanari. Not that Gretchen or anyone else knew that.

“Yeah, but none like you,” Gretchen sniggered, “Look at you; everything about you screams ‘sexy’, but then you’ve got a stupid little girl-cock.”

“Girl-cock?” Mary laughed, arching an eyebrow. She cast her gaze across the others, lingering on Ashley. The plump girl shied away, pale cheeks reddening. Gretchen grimaced at the retort, then caught the glance between the two.

“Still trying to get into Ashley’s panties?” Gretchen giggled, pulling Mary in tighter, “What girl would want to be with you? Little freak.”

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice lanced through the gathering. Mary’s heart and eyes jumped at the sound of it, her gaze flashing to Carmen. The honour student ignored them, vision aimed ahead. Dakota copied her, remaining silent despite the glare affixed to her face. Ashley and Zoey stepped out of the way, while everyone watched them go.

“You think the dykes will take you?” Gretchen snarled, curling her lip at the two, “Hate to break it to you… actually, I love it, but they’ll never accept you. No one will. I’ll see to it.”

Mary opened her mouth and inhaled. Insults thundered across her thoughts like racehorses, drowning out everything, until they vanished and were replaced by Gretchen’s face. Every facet of her visage consumed the blonde’s mind, the crevices in her lips, how they curled in a cruel sneer, and the way her eyes flickered with hatred. Then it was gone, consumed by another, equally hateful face. And just as familiar.

She snapped her eyes shut and shook her head. Mary jerked away from Gretchen and hurried toward her class, gritting her teeth against the insults that followed her. They hung on her shoulders like loyal pets, perched there and chittering in her ears. She planted herself at the furthermost corner of the room, away from everyone’s sight. It was just like middle-school all over again.

Few people even spared a glance in her direction. Her name hovered about the room, passing from one set of lips to another in hushed murmurs. She knew what they were talking about, though. ‘Was it true, did she really have a cock, you find out, no you do it…’ No one wanted to approach her. Not when Gretchen’s eyes and ears were everywhere. Exactly like middle-school, Mary thought.

After the lunch bell rang, and everyone filed out into the halls, Gretchen’s hawk-like gaze found her in seconds. It didn’t take long before the flying insults cajoled others into the humiliation, every girl around her joining in to avoid Gretchen’s ire, though many were all too happy to add their voices. She faintly recognised several races as they crowded around her.

Mary pushed through the throngs of students. Their mouths spat at her, calling her every name that she had thrown at them over the years. She remained stoic, however, unwilling to give them the satisfaction that they craved.

“Oh god, look at those things!” One snickered, hand poking into the firm implant of Mary’s breast.

“She fucking likes it,” another joined her, flicking a finger against a nipple, still firm from the cold. Mary clenched her jaw and pressed harder, eyes zeroing in on the bathrooms. A third hand slapped against her ass, earning a sharp yelp from the blonde, and sank its fingers into her cheek. The nails sent a flash of pain through her. Mary bit her lip to restrain a moan, though it was harder to keep her thighs together as her cock swelled against them. Fortunately, the bathroom finally came within reach.

As did her crotch to a fourth hand. It lashed out in front of her, too low to get her breasts. She froze in place. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp as a stranger’s fingers dug into her shorts, fondling the bulge of her testes and freeing her hidden shaft from the tight grip of her thighs. Mary slapped the hand away and charged into the restroom.

“Get out!” She shrieked at the occupants. Mary instantly made a beeline for the nearest stall, hands tugging at her clothes. Once inside, she stripped in a familiar pattern and sat atop the toilet. She set her elbows against her knees and let her head fall forward. Swelling with desire, her cock twitched as it rose above her thighs to almost meet the curve of her breast. Mary didn’t touch it.

The thing was huge now. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was growing right in front of her as if feeding off her unquenchable lust. As her member grew, so too did her libido. She was insatiable before, always hankering for her next boytoy. Now her cock demanded double that. Always on the cusp of her thoughts, no matter the situation.

What made it impossible to wholly conceal was her balls. At first, they were massive, easily the size of an orange or apple, but at least they were mostly manageable with a skirt. Then her cock began to grow, and they joined with fervour, expanding feverishly quick. Her scrotum remained loose, letting them hang when she released the unsightly orbs. Now they rested on the toilet lid, each bigger than a softball.

The sounds of Gretchen’s voice carried through the door. It slithered through the cracks toward Mary, reminding her of the humiliation that waited for her, no matter when she left. She something wet roll down her cheek as her shoulders back to shake, and her chest grew tight. This was how the rest of her school life was going to be.

Her parents wouldn’t let her change schools. Even if she told them what was happening, they were too oblivious to see through the façade that Gretchen’s mother would put up. And no one would back her up. They all wanted her to suffer, and a transfer would be too easy an escape. Mary laughed as a tear fell onto the linoleum floor below. Unaffected by her state, her cock continued to rise to its full erection until the spongy tip met her breast.

“This is retarded,” Mary chuckled and pawed at her eyes. From voluptuous queen bee to a futanari sex freak that got turned on while being humiliated and harassed. Her cock throbbed strongly and pushed harder against her tit, as if trying to make a modicum of effort to comfort her, “I could do with an orgasm…” she mumbled and wiped off her tears on her thigh, then grasped her broad shaft.

The veins pulsed warmly in welcome and her tip leaked a large dollop of pre-cum. Her production never failed to amaze, as slick pre streamed down her length and over her fingers. For every inch that her vein-riddled prick grew, she seemed to produce another cup worth of semen. Her prick was coated in a soft sheen after a just a few pumps of her hand. She moaned softly as her tears dried up, replaced by the slime pouring from her cock.

Mary jerked her arm away at the sound of the door swinging open. Footsteps paced over to her stall and hovered outside, facing toward her. She didn’t dare make a sound above her breathing, waiting – praying that this person would leave. The door vibrated with a few sharp raps.

“Open the door,” Dakota said.

“Dakota?” Mary questioned, unable to believe her ears. The feet moved into an impatient stance and tapped against the hard floor.

“Yeah, now open the damn door.”

“I can’t,” Mary swiftly refused.

“Because of your dick?”

“That’s just a…”

“I felt it,” Dakota confessed, “You’re not alone.”

“You mean you’ve got one too?” Mary scoured her memories for proof, however she had never paid enough attention to notice, “I never knew.”

“It’s not exactly something I go around telling people. Now let me in.”

“I can’t,” Mary insisted, glancing down at her no longer unique cock.

“You jerking off in there?” Dakota asked bluntly.

“… yeah,” Mary whispered, certain that her face made a tomato seem blue. Her cock was less ashamed, happily spurting pre-cum.

“Can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but… do you want some help?”


“It’s boring as fuck isn’t it? Masturbating all the time, especially after everything we used to do.”

“I guess so,” Mary mumbled and walked to the door, reaching for the latch with a quivering hand, “What’re you going to do?”

“You know me,” Dakota laughed softly, “I was the only one of us who got off giving a blowjob.”

“I’m pretty big,” Mary grinned in pride.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, are you gonna let me in or not?”

“You’re really going to do this?” Mary breathed, torn between what she knew would happen and what she wanted.

“I hate you,” Dakota confessed, “But I know what you’re going through. You did it to me, after all.”

“Sorry,” Mary hung her head and licked her lips, almost able to feel the word lingering on them. She unlocked the door and stepped back, letting it slide open, “I really am.”

“You can prove it to me later,” Dakota pushed the dilapidated barrier all the way open and stepped inside, before she hurriedly closed it once more. The two stood in the confined space without sound or movement. Mary didn’t know what to say, nor how she should begin. Her prick stood rigid, aimed solely at the girl who had promised a better release than anything else before. A large drop of pre hung from the tip, building greater with every beat of her heart. It broke away from the slick stream and splatted against the floor.

Dakota turned around to face the blonde futa. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, before she recovered a calm mask, then traced her gaze across Mary’s form. She settled on the turgid mass that marred the girl’s form. Its veiny shaft stood out in stark relief to the smooth swell of Mary’s hips and unnatural perkiness of her breasts, and beneath it hung a pair of balls an elephant would be envious of. The blonde crooked her head down and to the side.

“I really hate you,” Dakota laughed and moved closer. She and Mary were close to the same height, with the half-German standing only an inch taller. Their groins met, Mary’s impressive shaft pressing into a noticeable presence behind Dakota’s skirt.

“You really have one,” Mary gasped and hesitantly reached down to slip her hand beneath the garment, finding a pair of boxer shorts encumbered with a bulge like her own, only smaller, “But you can use underwear?”

“Of course,” Dakota frowned and looked at the pile of clothes, “You can’t?”

“No, I can’t wear anything when I’m like this,” Mary nodded to her erection.

“Freaky,” Dakota noted, then reached between them and grabbed the appendage, inhaling sharply when her hand failed to fit around it, “Holy shit.” She pushed against Mary, forcing her to sit back on the toilet. The tanned teen lowered herself to her knees in front of her, eyes staring up at the impressive length.

“I really am sorry for what I did before,” Mary mumbled, breaths growing heavier as her former friend’s face neared her cock. She only had one ally now, or perhaps something more, and she had every intention of keeping it that way. No matter how much she had to brown nose.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dakota breathed. She puckered her lips and pressed them against Mary’s prick, inhaling the heady musk that swirled about the pulsating spire, “Like I said, ‘prove it to me later’.”

“Okay,” Mary cooed, and relaxed. She spread her legs wider and pushed out her hips, running her cock against Dakota’s supple lips. Dakota stroked her mouth down to the base, then slid lower and wrapped her lips around a ball, inhaling as much as she could. The size was impossible, however. Her hands made up for it as they cupped each orb, feeling their heft against her palm. Cum sloshed noisily inside and crashed against the walls of its container.

The blonde futa slid her hands along her legs and up to her breasts. She groped her firm mounds, nursing her bottom lip, as she watched Dakota work. She knew her former, now only friend was an eager cocksucker. It was a fact that she often bragged about, but Mary never thought that she’d be on the receiving end. That was far from a complaint, merely an observation.

She adored the sensations racing across her nerves. Dakota licked and fondled her sack as if she were worshipping a religious idol, tracing every protrusive vein with her lithe tongue. Her lips moved between each ball, drawing it in and lathering it in her spit, while her other hand massaged the other. Each finger was a point of delight as they pressed intermittently, separate from each other, roiling her cumbersome testes. The nails scratched and pulled at the loose flesh, adding another sensation.

Saliva drooled across Mary’s balls as Dakota made out sloppily with the oversized orb. The breath from her nose breezed across the moistened skin, sending pleasant chills up Mary’s spine. Pre-cum made its way to the overeager cocksucker, mixing with her spit. Dakota opened wide against a ball and moaned, lapping her tongue across its surface and catching every drop of pre. The half-German moved a hand away and pushed it behind the action.

“Oh, fuck!” Mary gasped, arcing her hips as Dakota slid a finger inside her pussy. The sudden penetration caused a burst of pre-cum to shoot out, landing across the tanned teen’s hair. It ran down her brunette locks, soaking into them, but went ignored. Dakota curled and stretched her finger, swirling it around, before sliding another two inside. The nails scratched against Mary’s walls, and the burning itch that bubbled just below the surface.

Dakota, then, planted wet kisses along Mary’s balls and up her shaft. When she reached the peak, its swollen, purple head, the girl wrapped her lips around the tip. Mary glanced down at her and met her gaze. They held the lock as Dakota slurped lewdly, drawing out still more sticky pre, while her tongue slowly lapped around the head. Dakota abruptly removed her hand from Mary’s pussy, then, and brought the pair to her relentless shaft.

The blonde futa breathed deep in anticipation. Her cock throbbed as it was wrapped in Dakota’s soft grasp, pressing its root-like veins against them. Their eyes remained fixed to one another, even as Mary’s fluttered in her towering lust. Dakota brought her hands to the swell of Mary’s crown and opened wider, leaning close until her lips touched them. Her cheeks turned hollow as she suckled like a parched babe.

“Fuck me, you’re good at this,” Mary rasped, pinching her excited nipples at the display.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Dakota replied around the near-fist sized crown. Though her words were slurred and muffled, they were astonishingly clear considering what stuffed her maw. The girl wasn’t shy about showing off her flexible jaw whenever she had the chance, usually putting an apple or orange inside at parties. Mary had seen her perform the trick time after time, but she never thought it had any use until now.

“What about deepthroating me?” Mary pushed her hips toward the girl, forcing her lips past the glans. Dakota retreated immediately after wards, pulling her mouth off with a lewd pop.

“There’s more to a blowjob than sucking the whole thing down in one go,” Dakota advised her, both hands stroking the pillar of cock, “But,” she continued, returning her lips to the spongy crown, “I do like a challenge.” The teen lowered her mouth back to where she left off, stroking her hands down to the base as she did so.

Mary left the subject alone and leaned against the basin. Part of her wished she could suck on her nipples, but the implants forbade it. They were too firm and round, however she could happily settle for pulling and pinching them. Mary rolled her nubs in her fingers as Dakota slowly, painfully so, bobbed her head back and forth with her spiralling hands.

Her hips began to jerk impatiently. Mary groaned and tightened the grip around her breasts, both savouring the drawn-out pleasure and suffering in it. Go faster, she silently urged the tortuous girl, but Dakota remained locked in her methodical practice. Her lips slid across the crown while her tongue toyed with the spewing slit, as her hands twisted and stroked the foot-long dick.

“Please, Dakota,” Mary moaned, unable to tolerate it for much longer, “Go faster… go deeper… anything!”

Dakota popped free once more and hastened her strokes. She laid her cheek against the slimy head, ushering even greater bursts of pre to sully her tan, and fixed her smouldering gaze upon Mary’s, “What do you want me to do?”

“Suck my cock,” Mary panted, rolling her hips, “Shove it down your throat. Make me cum inside of you… please?” She’d never felt this desperate to cum before, always giving into her desire without a care. Her balls had never felt so full, or so tight for that matter. Every inch that Dakota’s hand travelled made them feel tenser, like a dam holding back an entire ocean. It would inevitably crumble. There was just the matter of when, and Dakota held that time in her hand.

“What do I get in return?” Dakota teased. She poked her tongue out and flicked it against Mary’s tip, earning a startled gasp.

“I don’t know,” Mary whined, breathing intensely, “I-I’ll let you do anything you want to me, just please make me cum!”

“You’re really that desperate,” Dakota cooed, breathing against the dominating peak, “That you would even let me fuck you?”

“… yes.”

“Up the ass?”

“I… yes,” Mary moaned as Dakota leaned her heavenly mouth against the eager prick.

“You’ve got a deal,” Dakota smirked and filled her lungs, then dove onto Mary’s twitching cock. She managed to feed half of it into her slavering maw. Groaning, Dakota didn’t pause for long and straightened her neck out, then pushed deeper. Mary abandoned her tits to wrap her fingers in Dakota’s hair, pulling her softly, while her other hand massaged the girl’s throat.

“Jesus, fuck…” Mary panted. Her cock bulged out from Dakota’s neck, its hardness wreathed in her tender flesh, and was blatantly obvious. Another inch sank into the sinfully delicious depths, earning a wet gag from the stuffed girl. Mary swore she felt it as her potent veins thumped with inane desire.

Saliva and pre drooled liberally from Dakota’s stretched lips. Thick rivulets that followed Mary’s veins, pausing at her crotch to then flow across her balls and pool on the toilet. Only a few inches remained, yet they were the hardest few. Dakota’s eyeliner ran with her tears, and her cheeks were slathered in filth and bright red. She pulled back until the cock popped free of her throat, then slid it back inside with a moaning retch.

Dakota’s hands were never still either. They pumped what she couldn’t yet fit inside, working the slimy mixture of clear jizz and spit into the shaft, squeezing in tandem with Mary’s heartbeat. Dakota’s head bobbed back and forth, several inches sliding across her tongue and down her gullet. With each descent, more entered and stretched her throat bigger.

Mary massaged the girl’s scalp and neck, moaning and panting all the while. Her balls were tight with their impending release, however they held back, churning an even greater load. She would have to measure her orgasm one day, she thought before it was washed away as Dakota claimed another inch. Mary felt the girl’s laboured breaths against her groin now, each exhale ruffling the neat strip of pubic hair. Just a little more, Mary silently urged and pulled harder on Dakota’s head.

Gagging wetly, Dakota’s lips finally met the base and her chin nestled into the clenching balls. Her spittle doused Mary’s crotch as the rigid spire pulsed and swelled, ready to deliver a load unlike any other. The blonde futa’s head flew back as her hands held Dakota’s in place. Cum erupted from her cock in a forceful rope that sprayed into Dakota’s stomach, filling it with semen, before another, more energetic burst joined it.

Again, and again, Mary unloaded her potent seed into her former friend’s belly. Throughout it all, Dakota’s lips and tongue worked, while her throat swallowed needlessly. They prolonged the delightful sensations and ushered even greater releases from her. Her hips jerked with another spurt, causing her seed to pour incorrectly.

Dakota gagged again and thick droplets of white sputtered from her nose and lips. The gooey load dribbled down the girl’s chin and neck, even as still more erupted. Mary was lost to the events, caught in the whirlwind of her climax, indulging in how it spirited her mind through skies of bliss, even if she was only spinning around in violent circles. Each throb of her wilful cock only sped up the ride. Her arms fell away from Dakota’s head to cup her own tits in mindless ecstasy.

The tanned girl forced herself free. She sputtered and coughed wetly, flecks of cum flying from her mouth, even as torrid ropes spewed across her face and torso. They clung to her skin and soaked into her clothes, dousing the oxygen deprived cocksucker in Mary’s jizz. Despite her state, Dakota still found the presence of mind to wrap her hands around the spewing shaft, stroking it forcefully, as if milking Mary of her cum. Her fingers squeezed tightly around the head each time they reached it.

“Fucking hell, Mary,” Dakota rasped once the thick of it was over.

“Y-yeah,” Mary stammered, body twitching in the aftershocks of her mind-addling climax.

“I think you ruined my figure,” Dakota grumbled. The blonde looked down and saw that Dakota’s middle was pudgier than normal, a new layer of liquid softness marring her tone.

“Sorry,” Mary gasped at the sight, “I didn’t think it could be that much.”

“Neither did I,” Dakota muttered and stood, taking stock of her semen splattered form. Even after such an orgasm, Mary’s cock jerked in longing. The tanned girl’s face was coated in strips of seed, thick ropes of it leading down into her dampened shirt, which, in turn, brought her gaze to the blatant bulge in Dakota’s skirt. Mary gulped and stood up as well, turning around to present her rear, “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“I thought you were…” Mary restrained herself from moaning as she spread her legs, webs of her juices clinging to her thighs, “Gonna, you know, fuck me?”

“We’ve only got about twenty minutes left. And I don’t know about you, but I could do with some actual food,” Dakota patted her stomach and grimaced at how it jiggled, “Maybe another time?”

“Don’t you have to take care of that?” Mary nodded to the other futa’s conspicuous bulge.

“Too hungry,” Dakota sighed and adjusted her member, lessening the impact it made, “Besides, Carmen’s probably wondering where I am.”

“What… what’s your relationship anyway?” Mary inquired as she redressed.

“We’re friends,” the tanned girl sighed, shrugging.

“So, she’s single,” Mary mumbled under her breath, soft enough that Dakota wouldn’t hear, “I have a favour to ask… Could I eat with you and Carmen?”

“Listen, Mary,” Dakota said and gripped the blonde’s shoulders, “I feel bad for you, even after the shit you did to me, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you. Besides,” she turned away and unrolled the toilet paper, wiping away the evidence of their time together, “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

Mary stared out at the hordes of students from the end of the cafeteria line, tray in hand. Everyone was eating and chatting together, happy with their groups. Carmen and Dakota sat at a corner table, oblivious to the baleful glares Gretchen frequently shot their way. The futa swallowed her doubts, though she knew they were still there, toiling away in the pits of her gut, and set off toward the only other futanari she knew of. It wasn’t Dakota that made her feel uneasy, though, nor was it Gretchen’s watchful gaze. Her eyes dwelled on Carmen, who remained heedless to her advance.

“Hi there,” Mary greeted the pair, gaze downcast. The friendly atmosphere vanished in an instant as Carmen’s stare chained itself to her.

“What do you want?” Carmen demanded, turning back to her half-eaten curry.

“I, uh…” Mary looked to Dakota, who kept her focus on the food, “Can I eat with you?”

“No,” Carmen swiftly denied.

“I’m sorry,” Mary blurted and set her tray down, “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did… I’m not like that now.”

“Yes, you are,” Carmen stated and looked her up and down, “You’re just trying to help yourself, acting like this.”

“No,” Mary shook her head, “I… how can I prove it to you?”

“You can’t,” Carmen decreed.

“Can we talk in private?” Mary requested. She wasn’t sure if it was something in her voice, or something else entirely, but Carmen acquiesced. The honour student stood up with a sigh.

“Fine, where?”

“Um,” Mary bit her lip. She hadn’t anticipated getting this far.

“Come on, there’s an unused room next door,” Carmen informed her and led the way.

“How do you know that?” Mary inquired, trying to keep the conversation going, lest her nerves overwhelm her.

“I use it when I need somewhere quiet to study,” Carmen explained and opened the door, then ushered the blonde inside.

“Okay,” Mary stepped past the threshold and released the hold of her thighs, letting her cock fall and bulge out her crotch even further. It was a classroom, disused and filled with untended equipment. The desks were chipped and had legs missing, while the chairs were mostly in left intact. Only the teacher’s desk was in useable condition. The whole room reeked of stale air.

“So, how’re you gonna prove it to me?” Carmen demanded, sitting on the table expectantly.

“You’ve heard the rumours, right?” Mary began, trying, and failing, to keep her voice steady.

“That you’ve got a dick, yeah,” Carmen confirmed, “Are they true?”

“Yeah,” Mary nodded and pulled down her shorts without giving herself another second to consider it. Her prick flopped into view, letting a fleck of dried seed fall with it. The blonde felt her face burn hotly at the sight but focused her gaze on the honour student before her. Carmen’s gaze went wide, clearly caught off guard by the view.

“Why?” Carmen asked, eyes flicking to the surprising length.

“This is my proof,” Mary whispered.

“And why would you show it to me?” Carmen frowned.

“Because ever since I grew this thing, I can’t get you out of my head!” Mary exclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“You… you can’t?” Carmen stammered, leaning back as Mary approached her until they were almost face to face.

“I don’t know what’s happened to me,” Mary whimpered and leaned closer, “The only thing I know, is that I’m not into guys anymore and I… I think… I love you.” She crossed the gap and pressed her lips to Carmen’s, not giving her time to react before she deepened it.

Carmen jerked in shock and reached up to push her away, then she tasted something salty. Her gaze quickly found the source, watching as twin rivers streamed from Mary’s eyes. The blonde’s brow was furrowed deeply, and her eyelids were scrunched up tight, as if terrified of what she might see.

Her lips are soft, Carmen noted and placed her hands upon Mary’s shoulders. The girl tensed up and froze with her mouth still pressed to Carmen’s. They remained locked in that pose. Carmen didn’t know what she wanted to do. Part of her craved to shove Mary away and humiliate her like she had done just a few weeks ago, but another side of her burned in want at her first kiss in years. Or maybe it was something else, she thought.

Regardless, Carmen pressed against Mary and parted her lips slightly. The invitation was clear, if unbelievable. The honour student deepened the kiss, waiting for Mary to respond. After several seconds of stillness, the blonde finally reacted. She pushed her tongue out slightly and Carmen reacted in kind, sampling Mary’s taste.

Something jerked against Carmen’s thigh and broke the moment. She leaned back and pushed Mary away, though without the force she had expected to use. They stared at one another in silence, save for their breathing. Carmen’s pussy tingled with the memories of her ex-girlfriend, reignited by the sudden kiss. She moved Mary further away and stared her in the eye.

“That was a mistake,” Carmen gasped.

“I-I’m sorry,” Mary stammered and found her shorts, quickly pulling them up to hide her cock.

My mistake,” Carmen clarified, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” Mary frowned, relieved that she hadn’t ruined everything.

“Because… I just can’t,” Carmen grumbled and looked away, “Finals are coming up…” she explained, yet the excuse felt hollow.

“Oh, okay.”

“I accept your apology, by the way,” Carmen said and returned her gaze to the blonde, who played with her hands nervously.

“Thank you,” Mary smiled, flashing her brilliant teeth.

“But I have to ask,” Carmen hopped to her feet, pushing the recent event to the corner of her mind, “Why’d you do it all?”

“Because I wanted to avoid this,” Mary explained and opened the door, “We should get back. Lunch is almost over.”

Carmen studied the girl. She had been a force of confidence before, indominable no matter who she was attacking. Was that really all an act? Carmen wondered as she walked beside a person that she never expected to even talk to. Mary’s entire demeanour seemed different, more natural. Carmen glanced behind her at the Seikogami that hovered after them, mind flashing to the Futa Note. Two out of two times it had caused a change in someone’s personality, she noted.

Was it just a side effect? Or could she actively enforce such a transformation? Carmen glanced around the cafeteria, lingering on the people with strong character traits, such as Gretchen. No, she shook her head. If she was going to test the book on a third person, it had to be someone completely different from Dakota and Mary. Carmen paused at her table and clenched a hand into a fist.

“It’s tempting isn’t it?” Ryuka breathed from beside her, “What’ll happen a third time? Another confession, maybe something more? Or will it do nothing?”

“Shut up,” Carmen snarled from the side of her mouth and sat down.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ryuka teased, moving to rest her plush, beanbag-sized tits on Carmen’s shoulders, “One more time. You just have to know if its completely real. That’s what you ‘logical’ people like, isn’t it? To turn everything into a science.”

“I am not using that damn thing ever again,” Carmen vowed.

“What thing?” Dakota inquired, causing the honour to jump.

“Nothing,” Carmen swiftly stuffed the last of her curry into her mouth, glaring out the corner of her eye at the gorgeous annoyance. Never again, Carmen affirmed in her thoughts. The spices caught up to her, however. Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed her water, glugging it down like she’d been stranded in the desert for a week. Ryuka giggled, earning another scowl.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 10 - Crossing a Line

Carmen glared at her meagre pile of clothes, all crumpled and disorganised after her recent attempts at dressing herself. One shirt sported a tear along its side from when she’d tried to force it over her unfairly endowed chest, which stood out like a sore thumb on her torso. None of her bras had a hope of fitting now. She grimaced at the memory of trying to stuff her breasts into one, rolling her shoulders at the phantom ache of the straps digging into her skin and tender bust. Why couldn’t she have a growth spurt after she could afford new clothes?

“You know, a certain notebook could solve all your problems,” Ryuka giggled, hovering over the student’s bed with a lavish grin, one that promised mischief and bliss. The Seikogami lifted a shirt and held it against her woefully oversized body, “Think it suits me?”

“Just shut up,” Carmen groaned, sparing an exasperated glance at her unwelcome roommate. No matter how annoying Ryuka was, though, Carmen couldn’t deny her inhuman beauty. Black waves fell from Ryuka’s head to spill across her shoulders and down her back, seeping into the tar-black wings that extended on either side of her. Elegant, slender feathers lined the limbs and possessed a glossy sheen under the sunlight that streaked through Carmen’s window and fell upon Ryuka’s aristocratic flesh. Her blood-red lips and eyes shone brightly against her pale, sculpted face.

And those lips moved like a dancer’s body. They screamed for attention without asking it, as commanding a presence as a general or bodybuilder, yet gracefully curved and inviting. Oh so inviting, Carmen thought as she ripped her gaze free. A subtle, yet scorching heat bellowed across her skin, moving like teasing fingers to her oversized breasts and between her thighs. Carmen grabbed her biggest top and tugged it on.

It was thin and an ugly brown colour, dotted with flecks of green and decay. Moths had eaten through several parts of it, leaving small holes spread across the garment, and it nearly toppled over Carmen’s shoulder. The sleeves were several inches too long, and the hemline covered the tops of her hips. Her breasts swelled out against the front and left the rest to hang loosely over her waist.

“Ugh,” Carmen curled her lip as she looked in the mirror.

“I believe I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again. I don’t know why you humans bother wearing clothes. It’s even good weather today,” Ryuka muttered, landing beside Carmen to study her reflection, “Hmm, but if this isn’t a darling picture, I don’t know what is.” She flung her arm around Carmen’s shoulders and pulled her close, mashing the honour student into her enormous breast.

Carmen unconsciously inhaled at that moment. Her nose was pressed tight into Ryuka’s marshmallow boob, its softness conforming around her like a pillow made from foam. Citrus fruits mixed with a potently sexual aroma filtered through, before they gave way to a familiar heady scent that she’d come to know all too well in the last three months. One that set her loins bustling with longing.

She wrenched herself free and stormed from the bathroom, face a fiery mess of unsated desire and embarrassment. Her thighs rubbed together, grinding against her pussy as she walked. The lips slid against each other and her clit, earning a frustrated moan. She yanked a pair of panties into place, vehemently ignoring how they stuck to her nether region, and put on her skirt. Thankfully, her hips hadn’t changed as seriously as her chest had.

“I swear if you did this to me, Ryuka,” Carmen growled, rolling her ugly sweater’s sleeves to keep her hands in the open. She spared a moment to glance at herself with a disdainful sigh, then rushed from the sad excuse for an apartment. The floors creaked and dipped under her every step, casting nervous shivers up her spine, and the door was barely clinging onto the frame. If either one broke, they’d have to make some serious decisions about food that month. And probably the next as well.

At least the weather had drastically improved. Sunlight bore down upon the world from among high, as if watching everyone that walked the streets, except those that sought shelter in the alleyways. Darkness was their friend. Carmen glanced down a pathway and spied a man curled under the leftover strips of a blanket, a sheet of cardboard mounted over his head. What once might’ve been a nice suit was now marred by filth.

He might’ve been a business man before, Carmen thought and hurried on. Any time that she could spend worrying about the less fortunate was time spent planning how to survive Gretchen. A soft groan passed her lips as she imagined dealing with that bitch again, and again the next day and the next and so on and so forth.

“God, give me strength,” Carmen prayed, though she doubted it would work.

“I’ve already given you more power than the entire human race combined, what more do you want?” Ryuka exasperated with a wave of her arms. People strolled past her without batting an eye, even when her low hanging cock smacked their faces or left a trail of pre along their clothes. One man even found himself with a moustache of pre-cum.

“Yes and one that turns people into a mishmash of genders,” Carmen refuted while she bit back laughter at the man’s misfortune.

“I get it, I get it,” Ryuka rolled her eyes, “Might as find something else to talk about… how’re your new friends?”

“Uh…” Carmen blushed and diverted her gaze away from Ryuka, “Good. They’re good, we’re good… nothing major.” She became all too aware of her phone in her bag, right beside the Futa Note. Mary had insisted on calling and texting frequently, which usually found her flirting with Carmen. Though it wasn’t restricted to a digital medium. The former social queen bee openly teased her in public too, going so far as to flash Carmen her privates at times. Yet she couldn’t stop her.

It was nice in a way. Carmen smiled softly, recalling when Mary had tried to draw attention to her cleavage, only for a passer-by to spill their drink on her. She wasn’t a bad person by nature, not from what Carmen could discern. Circumstances can make someone into anything they have to be. Everything would be so different if her father was still alive.

“Something wrong?” Ryuka asked, moving to glide in front of Carmen.

“Nothing,” Carmen dabbed at the moisture in her eyes and sped up her stride, pounding along the sidewalk. The anniversary was coming up soon. And so was another very special event. Carmen forced herself to smile and reached into her bag, feeling the carefully wrapped art set. She’d spent most of her personal savings on it, but it’d be worth the expense. Melody was always worth it.

Ryuka shook her head at the human and returned to letting her penis smack into people. The ancient deity giggled like a schoolgirl when her translucent pre fell on a woman’s donuts, glazing them in her slimy ejaculate. “Well, it’s probably better for her than that icing anyway.”

Seikogami would never cease to intrigue or annoy Carmen. They were creatures of unfathomable beauty, with bodies no human could possess even through the horrors of plastic surgery, and an aura that could turn even the most well-adjusted individual into a sex-starved nymphomaniac. And yet, despite that, Ryuka seemed akin to a petulant child or a spoiled celebrity. Carmen had to wonder if she was the first person to ever deny the deity her amusement.

“Hey, hey!” Ryuka suddenly chirped and pointed to a market stall. The fruit stands were coming out with the improved weather, sporting farm fresh produce. Carmen followed Ryuka’s finger to a tray of ripe oranges, “Buy me one, Carmen.”

“No,” she immediately refused and walked on.

“Come on!” Ryuka whined and tugged on her detestable jumper.

“I said no. I don’t have the money,” Carmen explained and tugged free, “If you want one so bad, get a job.”

“Meanie,” Ryuka pouted, then hung her head.

“Why not steal one?” Carmen inquired, curious as to her reasons.

“The rules,” Ryuka whinged, “When in the human world, my kind are honour bound not to directly interact with your kind, unless they picked up a Futa Note. Then they’re fair game.”

“Your dick’s been slapping people’s faces for months,” Carmen pointed out.

“You grow a cock this big and try not hitting things beneath you. It’s impossible I say. Simply put, I can’t take things from you. Only if they’re given to me. All I can do is influence people with my aura, but even that’s got restrictions,” Ryuka elucidated, folding her arms with a huff.

“Why don’t you just hold your cock up or,” Carmen felt her cheeks boil as she blurted her follow-up, “Just stick up your… uh… you know?”

Ryuka froze in mid-air, “There’s hope for you yet,” she laughed and grabbed her godly thick cock, then curled it around to press against her pussy. Her alluring lips parted in a husky moan as she pushed her genitals together, driving her dick into herself. Carmen scurried away, hands over her ears, yet Ryuka remained at her side. The sound of her pleasure still breached her eardrums, “Ooh, that’s good.”

Carmen glanced to her right and saw the deity’s vagina stretched tensely thin around her penis. Her juices dribbled down the pale shaft, then fell under gravity’s sway. A series of angry purple-blue veins stood out against Ryuka’s foreskin, visibly pulsating as her hips moved. Carmen’s gaze trekked upwards to see her companion’s ass cheeks, their shape gorgeously curved and perky. They jiggled like water balloons if the Seikogami moved too suddenly.

“Nope!” Carmen blurted and raised a hand to block out the sight. It did nothing for the noise, though. Every moan, each slimy movement, the squelching of her pussy were all clear as day, “You know what? Never mind. Let it hang out. Smack everyone in the face, I don’t care.”

“What happened?” Dakota inquired once Carmen stepped into the classroom. Her hair was a mess, slicked back and a scowl seemed permanently sculpted on her face. A drop of something thick and slimy rolled down her forehead. She vehemently wiped at it with a tissue.

“Shower troubles,” Carmen explained with a firm jaw. She glared to her side where Ryuka continued to roar with laughter, as she had done for several minutes at that point, “I’m never buying oranges ever again.” She muttered and took her seat. The laughter stopped. Good, Carmen thought with a slight grin and settled back into her routine of study and ignoring Ryuka.

She sealed her locker with a cautious glance down the hall. Gretchen approached with her gang in tow and an aura of confidence that parted the student body like the red sea, their eyes downcast or fixated on the new queen bee, who knew it all. Her cheeks were dimpled with a malicious smirk, eyes gleaming with faux friendliness and indiscrimination. Those who had known her for longer than a month knew the truth. She was sizing everyone up, making sure no one was out of place below her.

No one was. All except Carmen, Dakota and Mary. They stood around Carmen’s locker, eying the infamous blonde with a trepidatious stare. Gretchen’s own gaze latched onto them and her mask of kindness disintegrated, giving way to a cruelty smeared in beauty. She leaned against a locker and tilted her head as if to flirt, while Ashley stood to the side, nervously busying herself with her fingers. Zoey and Rachel stayed behind, barely glancing at their former friends.

“Hi, Mary! How are you?” Gretchen exuberantly asked, sneering all the while, “Any luck finding another tranny?”

“Dunno, have you looked in a mirror?” Mary snapped back.

“Adorable,” Gretchen laughed, then glanced at Carmen and Dakota, “Maybe you’re trying to stick it in the honour student? Oversized titties do it for you, I hear. Ain’t that right, Ashley?”

“Y-yes,” Ashley squeaked, glimpsing Mary before her eyes darted away.

“And you’ve got more than enough, miss honour student,” Gretchen reached out and grabbed at Carmen’s chest, squeezing the mounds. A haze of anger fell across her features as she groped. Carmen couldn’t resist grinning in pride. She didn’t step away or let on how nice the touch felt on her underappreciated breasts. She always preoccupied herself with studying, refusing to masturbate while Ryuka was around. Which was always, she silently mourned.

Gretchen pulled back with a grunt of disgust, “Cow-tits,” she sneered, then looked at Dakota, “What about you, Nazi Dyke? Any luck for you?”

“Ask your sister,” Dakota murmured.

“Oh ho! Feisty!” Gretchen leaned in close and lowered her voice to a harsh growl, “It’s cute up to a point, you fucking freaks. Watch what you say, or I might just fuck you up.” She gestured for Zoey to come forward, the tan athlete was one of the few students taller than Carmen, though she looked skittish, “Won’t I, Zoey?” Gretchen addressed the tall girl, clapping a hand onto her back. The slap was strong enough to resound amongst the two groups.

“Uh, yeah… yeah, you will,” Zoey stammered, then looked back to Rachel, who only shrugged.

“Good girl,” Gretchen extolled and patted her like a dog, “See you guys around.” She gripped Carmen’s shoulder tightly, muscles visibly striking out against her feminine arm, as she left with the others in two. Zoey glanced at the three with an apologetic nod, before Rachel pulled her away. The athlete’s opposite scowled at Carmen and the others.

“Fuck that bitch!” Dakota growled when they sat down for lunch. All the tables were taken, Gretchen’s wannabe sycophants laying claim to entire rows, forcing the trio to eat outside. They sat under a tree, its branches now rich with life unlike when Carmen had first used the notebook. She glanced at up the limbs, then down at her bag, before digging into her meal. Ostracization wasn’t anything new to her.

“We’ve gotta get back at her for this,” Mary concurred, angrily stabbing at her chicken fillet. The two futanari glanced at each other, a silent understanding passing between them.

“Look,” Carmen sighed and faced them, “It’s not even a big deal. And If we do anything, she’s only gonna get worse.”

“And if we do nothing she’s still gonna get worse. Trust me,” Mary glowered at the ground, “She’s not the type to just leave you alone. There was a time in middle school, this kid kept getting on her nerves so she kept humiliating him over and over. Even when he got the message, she kept going for him,” Mary fixed her stare on Carmen and leaned forward to grip her thighs, “She’s a sadistic bitch, Carmen. Ignoring her just makes it worse.”

“I can testify to that,” Dakota chimed in.

“And what if you guys make it a thousand times worse?” Carmen argued, “From the sound of it, we just have to avoid her.”

“Well, yeah. Maybe,” Mary shrank back. Concern was etched into her furrowed brow and terse lips, jaw shifting uncomfortably.

“How did you control that bitch anyway?” Dakota inquired around a stuffed mouth.

“I think because I got her into it,” Mary hesitantly divulged.

“No fucking way,” Dakota laughed, “What? Was she a meek, little princess or something before?”

“No,” Mary rolled her eyes, “I just acted the way I did and she latched on. Before I knew it, she was following me. So, this is… kind of my fault.”

“It’s not,” Carmen shook her head and leaned the tree, “I mean, it is. But you shouldn’t blame yourself for her. She was bound to end up this way. Spoilt little girls always do.”

“And that’s why I say we have to get back at her,” Dakota urged, “She fucking groped you in public. What’s next?” Carmen bit her bottom lip, fully aware of the possibilities. None of the students would do a thing, and neither would the teachers if they wanted to keep their jobs. Cops were out since Principal Blake would cover for Gretchen. Nothing would stop Gretchen from outright attacking her, Dakota and Mary.

Carmen’s gaze drifted back to her bag and the all-powerful paperback notebook that peeked out from it. Above the tattered pack, she saw Ryuka’s glistening cock. Thick drops of aromatic fluid rolled down its length, teasingly forming a cone at the peak. It distended in a long string to almost touch Carmen’s bag. The deity cackled softly, making the obviously sexual rope swing ominously.

There’d be no conceivable way for Gretchen to humiliate anyone with something like that. Any skirt, dress or tunic would be unable to conceal such a thing. It’d bulge against the clothes like a low-hanging python, folds of fabric actually tautly stretched against thick veins, and the angry-purple head would dangle freely from below. Or, if not a carbon copy of Ryuka’s dick, then maybe something else. There was no telling how insane the book could go.


“What?” Carmen blinked and wrenched her eyes away from the Seikogami.

“What do you think?” Mary pressed. How long was she daydreaming? It didn’t feel that long, then again her neck had a slight ache.

“Uh, sure. Whatever,” Carmen muttered. She finished her lunch in silence, while Dakota and Mary talked about their weekends. Ryuka simply continued to laze about, reclining in the air as she absentmindedly groped herself, occasionally moaning or floating into Carmen’s view. The sun was dulled behind a sheet of clouds and cast a shroud of shadow across the school. A gust of air blew in from the west, carrying a chill with it.

“Run, run, run!” Dakota yelled a few hours later. She came sprinting toward the campus gate, where Carmen stood in wait for her friend.

“What?” Carmen yelped when her hand was forcefully taken and she was pulled violently forward. She looked back and saw Mary huffing after them. The blonde’s implanted breasts bounded with her clumsy strides, moving like a pair of balls attached to her chest. Yet they were no less enticing to Carmen. She’d only touched a couple pairs of breasts in her life, her own being amongst them, and neither were fake. Were they as firm as people said? Her thought died when she spied Gretchen further back, a look of pure fury plastered to her face.

For an obvious reason. Her hair was stuck up in maniacal spikes pointing in all manner of directions. Carmen didn’t know how Dakota and Mary did it, but she couldn’t deny the amusement it provided. She cracked a smile at her friends and sped along, leaving Gretchen to toil in her own humiliation. Her feet pounded along the concrete earth and the wind whipped through her hair, carrying it behind her like a cape. Each step felt free somehow.

Carmen was a straight-A student in all aspects that she could manage. Her behaviour was exemplary, physical shape acceptable – before her growth spurt, now it was above average – and she kept away from any troublemakers. Until now. She couldn’t bring her smirk to heel, laughing with Dakota’s exhilarated giggles. The half-German led the way, far more physically adept than Carmen. Her long legs sailed along the ground with apparent ease, trailing far enough behind her tanned friend to view Dakota’s delightfully pert ass cheeks rise and fall. Her legs raised the skirt just enough to glimpse the flesh.

And the all-too visible shape that bulged out her panties. Carmen wrenched her gaze free at the sudden burn between her own thighs, biting her lip to hold down a deep moan as her panties dug into the cleft of her vulva. Pleasant tingles extended from the lips, caressing her supple thighs and reaching into her chest. Her nipples pressed against her horrid sweater as the heat extended to her cheeks.

“Okay,” Dakota panted, “I think we lost her.”

“You think?!” Mary wheezed as she stumbled to a stop, folding in half to catch her breath. Her top slipped down slightly to show off extra inches of her cleavage, while it clung possessively to her glossy skin from the excessive sweat, “Ugh.” She grimaced as she noticed her perspiration.

“You look nice,” Carmen blurted, mind awash in rare adrenaline and endorphins. It was true. Mary’s lightly tanned skin shone sexily with a layer of sweat, even the beads added a certain level of sensuality. One envious drop rolled into the valley of her bosom, leaving a sleek trail in its way.

“Really?” Mary flushed and stood up, hands clamped together as she offered herself for further inspection. Something that Carmen’s elated brain was helpless to refuse. The heavily artificial blonde looked fantastic. Her hair was matted and blown wildly by the wind, and her lips were parted for breath, as if she had just finished a visceral round of sex. The film of perspiration made her shirt appear all the tighter, highlighting how unnaturally round and large her breasts were compared to her doll-like waist. Her hips were normal, though Carmen knew Mary’s ass was something to behold.

“Y-yeah,” Carmen nodded and looked away.

“Yay,” Mary breathlessly cheered.

“What about me?” Dakota innocently inquired, stepping into Carmen’s line of sight.

“Um,” she glanced about in the hopes of finding something to distract her. Her eyes were cruel, however, and frequently glimpsed Dakota’s figure in her search. Fortunately, fate was on her side. They’d stopped right in front of Soothe the Soul. Something that Carmen could desperately do with, “Let’s get something to drink.”

Dakota sighed but offered no resistance as they stepped inside. The door chimed cheerily, alerting Stacy to their presence. Little had changed in the past months, the chime being one. A new table crowded the limited floorspace, one of the windows had an eye-catching poster of the owner in all her curvy, bubbly glory. Said owner stepped out from the back to greet them

“Hey, Carmen!” Stacy called and waved her over, beaming joyously at her employee and company, “What can I get you?”

“Um, I’m good,” Carmen said, thinking about her meagre funds, and looked back at Mary and Dakota, “What’re you guys after?”

“Oh, can I get that blend from last time?” Dakota blurted. She’d become a regular in recent weeks, often accompanying Carmen on her way to work. Mary, on the other hand, was hesitant to join them most of the time.

“Of course, sweetie. And you?” Stacy turned to Mary, who looked completely out of place in the quaint shop. Amidst the hand-crafted chairs and contrastingly metal tables, the occupants of which were of the average variety, she was an outsider. Designer clothes – leftover from when she had Ashley wrapped around her little finger – atop her expensively curved figure made her stand out in stark relief. Not to mention her bright blonde hair.

Stacy maintained her smile. She never lost it, not in Carmen’s presence that is, always seeming overjoyed at meeting new people or greeting old friends. Even when she was overworked or dealing with an unruly customer. Perhaps it was her constant exposure to coffee and baked goods, Carmen thought. Though Carmen herself always felt relaxed under this roof, however she couldn’t find the bottomless, heart-warming abyss that Stacy could. But looking her boss over on occasion never hurt.

“Could I just get something sweet?” Mary finally decided.

“Coming right up!” Stacy turned and headed into the back, allowing the three to stare at her richly endowed rear. She was a deliciously plump woman. Large breasts were perched above her pudgy stomach, both of which jiggled softly if she moved her arms too fast, while her behind stretched out her plus-sized jeans to their brink. Carmen heard a sigh and glanced at Dakota, noticing the futa’s eyes were firmly planted on Stacy’s butt as well. So was Mary’s.

If she hadn’t changed them, they wouldn’t even notice someone like Stacy. Now Carmen could only read blatant lust on their faces, and glimpse it pushing against their skirts, in a near-exact copy of her own urges. She glanced back to Stacy, catching it just as her behind vanished around a corner. The coffee lover wasn’t a lesbian, at least from what Carmen could discern, but that could be changed. Carmen’s fingers curled around her bag.

A few simple words and she’d have another person lining up to get into her panties. And that person would be Stacy, one of the kindest women that Carmen had met, whose body was equally proportionate to that kindness. The honour student heard a hushed moan and turned slightly to see Ryuka floating nearby, eyes fixated on the wall. She can see through things as well, Carmen noted as the Seikogami licked her lips. There was only a blue wall and the menus in front of her, but that was where Stacy would likely be standing at that moment.

“She’s brimming with sexual energy,” Ryuka divulged, looking down to Carmen with an eager smirk on her red lips, “Wanna know why she always has that smile on her face?”

Carmen felt the colour boil to the surface on her face and shook her head, twisting away from the devilish god, who cackled teasingly. She was always hungry for knowledge, anything to get further ahead in life – minus a supernatural book – but there things that were better left unknown. But now the possibilities were in her head. She shot a glare at Ryuka as Stacy returned, two steaming cups in hand.

“Here we are!” Stacy announced, setting them down before the group, “Are you sure you don’t want anything, Carmen?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… yeah, I’m sure,” Carmen sputtered and fascinated herself with the paint job on the back wall, though Stacy remained lodged in her peripheral view.

“Here,” Stacy handed her a bottle of water, “You look flushed.”

“Thanks,” Carmen accepted it with a grateful smile, her gaze returning to peer into Stacy’s and froze there. She saw it now, the glimmer of lust in her boss’s eyes, one that always seemed to burn hotter as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. How hadn’t she noticed until Ryuka pointed it out? Was it the Seikogami’s influence perhaps?

“Actually, uh… could I talk to you?” Carmen stammered, the words tumbling from her mouth before she could get a leash on them. She glanced at Ryuka, who only shrugged in response. This was her fault, Carmen thought. Without a doubt.

“Of course. In private, I’d imagine?” Stacy’s smile didn’t falter, as if she was expecting this. The owner raised the barrier and invited Carmen over.

“I’ll be right back,” Carmen said.

“No worries,” Dakota walked over to a free table, dragging Mary with her. The two winked knowingly at Carmen, her face burned hotter as she followed Stacy into her office. It was a small space, barely suitable as anything more than a supply closet. Carmen sat opposite her employer, their legs almost touching in the cramped room. A cup of still warm coffee rested on Stacy’s desk.

“Um,” Carmen loathed this feeling. She’d only dealt with it a few times before, when she tried – and failed miserably – to express her feelings to any of her crushes. Those rare moments were all she needed to know that this sensation was not one she enjoyed. The abruptness of this moment didn’t help at all. In fact, she almost wished that she wasn’t attracted to anyone just to avoid it. But that was impossible.

There would always be people who caught her eye. Whether it was just their bodies like with Ryuka, or personality with Stacy, though her body was irrefutably part of it, she’d always be attracted to someone. Now, here she was again, with her stomach in knots and her mind hazy with nerves. A bead of sweat that had nothing to do with her earlier run rolled down the side of her cheek.

“Here,” Stacy leaned over with a tissue and wiped away the drop.

“Thanks.” Carmen glanced around for a sign of Ryuka, but the Seikogami was absent for the time being, yet she still felt her influence. Heat continued to simmer beneath her skin, rivulets of her urges seeping out across her body and from between her thighs. Her eyes refused to stay still, always moving back and forth between Stacy and their surroundings. Perhaps it wasn’t Ryuka, Carmen thought in confusion.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Stacy inquired, still wearing her jovial smile. That beautiful smile. Carmen wanted to hit herself for even considering this, for suddenly letting these emotions loose. Her arousal continued to burn in the background, a constant prod for her to speak her mind.

This is too sudden, Carmen thought. And it would only make things difficult. She’d have to find a new job if she spoke the truth. Worse, she’d no doubt lose one of her best friends in the process. Stacy didn’t know she was gay either. What if she’s homophobic? The nicest people always hide something like that. Carmen’s mind whirled in a storm of those possibilities.

“Dear?” Stacy roused her from the maelstrom, though it continued to rage near the forefront of her thoughts.

“Sorry, just… It’s that…”

“You’re gay?”

“I…” Carmen’s breath caught in her throat as she wrestled with her cowardice and desire, finally bringing her gaze level with Stacy’s, “You knew?”

“Of course I did,” Stacy laughed, a booming yet musical sound.

“How?” The storm had fallen quiet, leaving the worry floating in stasis for the moment.

“I observed. You’re so professional, but you sometimes slip up if a pretty girl walks in. Or when you think I’m not looking,” Stacy hinted.

“Oh god,” Carmen’s head fell forward in mortification, “Kill me now.”

“No, no,” Stacy quickly assured her, placing her hands on the teen’s legs, “I don’t have a problem with it.”

Carmen raise her head, “But… even when I’m checking you out?” She wanted to bite her tongue as she saw realisation dawn on Stacy’s face. She hadn’t noticed that much, only that Carmen had been eying some of their patrons.

“That… that’s…” Stacy’s smile faltered for the first time as she leaned back in her chair, face flushed and a thoughtful frown crinkling her forehead.

“I’ll just go,” Carmen stood up. Maybe if she left it for a few days, Stacy would forget and everything would stay the same. After the business with the Futa Note and making her new ‘friends’, Carmen had no desire to bring about more change in her life.

Then why the fuck did she say all that? Carmen was certain that Ryuka was behind it. The Seikogami must’ve seen an opening in Carmen’s defences and used her aura or whatever to exploit it. That had to be the reason.

And also why Stacy’s hand gripped hers in a tight embrace. She was pulled back down into her chair, staring at her employer in daze as, with her smile back in place, Stacy leaned forward until they were face to face. Only a couple of inches separated them. Carmen could smell the coffee on Stacy’s breath and feel the heat from her skin. Her eyes traced the curve of her rounded cheeks, followed the line of her overused laugh lines and lapped over her inviting lips.

“I’m old enough to be your mom,” Stacy said. Carmen nodded, mutely staring, “But… if you’re fine with that…”

“This can’t be happening,” Carmen whispered, “It’s a dream.”

“Honey,” Stacy chuckled, then closed the slight gap between them. Her lips met Carmen’s and held them, moving softly in a silent invitation. Carmen, then, pressed back into the pillows that caressed her mouth. They conformed around her lips, hugging them like a lover might, and pulled her in. Carmen rose from her chair to lean over Stacy, using her position to push further. Their lips parted, inviting the other to explore.

As their tongues met for the first time, Carmen straddled her employer. An inferno blazed in her core, turning all her concerns to ash, that only burned hotter with every swipe of her tongue against Stacy’s. The taste of coffee and herbs danced over her taste buds, inciting her to sample more. Carmen’s hands reached up and cupped her employer’s face, while Stacy brought hers to the teen’s ass. Their bodies mashed into one another as Carmen arched her back.

She was enveloped in softness. Stacy’s lips were like pillows, her breasts were marshmallows and her thighs like dough. Her kiss was soothingly gentle as well, a perfect counterpart to Carmen’s hungry embrace. It gradually calmed the inferno into a simple flame. Carmen tempered her exuberance and slowed the kiss, taking time to savour her employer’s taste and feel. They breathed heavily through their nostrils, inhaling the other’s scent. A soft moan reverberated in Stacy’s throat.

“That was…” Carmen gasped when she pulled free, panting softly. She remained close, their foreheads pressed together, while a bridge of saliva connected them. It slowly fell under its own weight, though neither cared.

“I’ve missed this,” Stacy sighed and pulled the teen in for a hug. Their breasts squished into each other, sending gentle waves of delight through Carmen’s body.

“I want more,” Carmen admitted. Every fibre of her being wanted to keep going, to finally go all the way. But that wasn’t viable at that moment. A distant chime made Stacy sigh in disappointment.

“I do too,” the plump coffee lover smiled as they separated, “There’ll be other chances.”

“When?” Carmen chirped as she stood, beside herself with excitement.

“My supplier is coming in tomorrow afternoon, but he can handle everything himself. So, we can take the evening off.”

“T-tomorrow?” Carmen breathed, eyes raking over every inch of Stacy’s figure.

“Easy there,” Stacy chuckled, ushering Carmen from her office, “Let’s try a date or two and see where it takes us.”

“Okay,” Carmen sighed, though she couldn’t mask her disappointment.

“But if that was anything to go by, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

“So, this means you’re my… and I’m your…?” Carmen couldn’t get the word out as she looked down at her employer, only then truly noticing how much taller she’d grown in the past few months. Not long ago, Stacy was an inch above her.

“You,” Stacy pressed a finger into Carmen’s breast, coincidentally finding her nipple and eliciting a soft moan, “Are my employee.”

“Oh,” Carmen lowered her head slightly.

“And my girlfriend,” Stacy added, pulling the honour student in for a parting kiss.

“You tease,” Carmen laughed and reciprocated. They returned back to the front, hands parting behind the barrier of the counter.

“So, what’d you two ‘talk’ about?” Dakota asked the second Carmen sat down.

“Just that I might need some more hours,” Carmen lied.

“Are… are you serious?” Dakota’s jaw fell open, “Come on, I thought you were gonna get that taboo shit on or something.”

“She’s got more than sex on her mind, Dakota,” Mary chided her, then glanced at Carmen to confirm the statement.

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded with a fleeting glance at the counter, a smile teased at her lips. Dating a girl her own age would require so much more time than she could offer, but Stacy was an adult, and a business woman at that. She would be busy, just as Carmen would, “I should go. I’ve gotta study and make sure Melody’s all right.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me. Are you free tomorrow?” Dakota asked, “I’ve hit another snag.”

“And, uh, me too,” Mary reluctantly admitted.

“Sorry, but I’ve got work tomorrow.” It wasn’t technically a lie, since it would normally be her shift if Stacy hadn’t decided otherwise. A grin curled her lips as she thought of what was to come. Just twenty-four hours until their first date. And maybe more if all went well.

The next morning, Carmen froze in front of her locker. She’d woken up with a spring in her step, one that even Ryuka’s pestering couldn’t hamper. It only improved when she walked by Soothe the Soul and spied Stacy through the glass, setting up for the day. They’d shared a quick smirk, before both hurried to their place of work, though Carmen’s was a notably duller setting in her mind. It almost seemed that nothing would dampen her spirits that day.

Until she, Dakota and Mary came to their lockers to find them open and filled with scraps of paper. A quick inspection revealed that they were from their text and note books. Carmen breathed deeply, assuring herself that it could be replaced. She had a good memory and she could get another textbook to work from. Then she noticed something missing.

“No,” Carmen sifted through the scraps, searching for the art kit that she’d stored there to keep hidden from Melody. It wasn’t there. Not even a hint of the wrapping paper.

“Oh my! Guess the honour student has some anger issues,” an ear-grating, venomous tone pierced Carmen’s auditory senses and sent her heart pounding. She turned, along with Dakota and Mary, to see Gretchen sauntering toward them in a bizarre mirror of yesterday. Only this time, she was tinted red in Carmen’s eyes.

“Where is it?” Carmen snarled as she strode up to the queen bitch, glaring down at her.

“I didn’t do anything,” Gretchen innocently shrugged and tilted her head, “The only person who was still here afterschool yesterday was Zoey.” She jerked her head behind her, bringing Carmen’s gaze to the athlete, who tried to conceal herself as best she could behind Rachel, “And next time you think of threatening me, just remember that I can get you expelled in an instant. See ya!”

“Carmen?” Zoey whimpered once Gretchen and the others were gone. The honour student’s baleful glare could’ve frozen entire oceans, then melt them into an apocalyptic flood. She visibly shook, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, “I…” Carmen didn’t let her continue and pushed past, shoving the track star into a wall.

She had some writing to do.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 11 - For a Friend

Everything around her blurred into an amalgamation of colours and pointless shapes. She knew what they were. The faded turquoise painted walls that clashed with the strange red shade of the floor, coated with caked in dirt, and twin rows of students that kept to themselves. Some shapes were those of bags or haphazard posters celebrating school pride. None mattered in the slightest.

Carmen had her bag and its contents gripped tight in her white-knuckled grasp. The chipped plastic doors creaked open, their hinges barely capable of tolerating Carmen’s excessive force, while she squinted against the bright sunlight. She glanced down the left path to the library, then to the right and chose the former. Dakota and Mary knew that she preferred the library for privacy, and she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Even Ryuka seemed to understand.

If the damned Seikogami hadn’t dropped the Futa Note, then this likely wouldn’t have happened. Carmen reached into her jostling bag and grabbed the book, almost able to feel its tantalising power seep from the cover. Because of one little thing, she had antagonised possibly the worst person she could have. Mary at least kept to those who outright offended her in some way, albeit that could mean nearly anything.

What made it worse was that ‘one little thing’ could make it all go away. Less than a single paragraph and she could control everything, let alone Gretchen. She passed one of the few trees that followed the cracked path, offering the blossoming vegetation a brief glimpse. No one paid attention to a maple tree. They just walked by without a second-thought, precisely how Carmen would’ve liked the rest of her high school life to have gone.

She shook her head with a disdained groan. Dealing with the hand one was dealt was just another part of being successful. If she wasted her time on hindsight, then she’d never get anywhere. The untended stone path came to an end, the weeds and cracks leading into the grass behind the main building. In the early morning sunlight, she spotted the track team practicing before class. They wouldn’t bother her.

The honour took folded her legs beneath her and sat against the building. Her enriched rear cushioned her against the dry soil below. It hadn’t rained for almost a week, leaving the ground just as fractured as the pavement. The grass and occasional flower wilted under its malnourishment. Carmen withdrew the Futa Note and a pen from her bag, immediately flipping it to the first page.

How many names would another person have written by now? She wondered, glancing at the near-empty, greyish-white page. It didn’t matter. There’d only be one more name written in this book for the rest of her life, a name that would remedy her school problems and give her, and dozens of others, a deep-rooted sense of retribution. She wouldn’t try to be smart or controlling this time. Gretchen would get exactly what she should.

“H-hi,” a small voice whispered just as Carmen’s pen touched paper. She shoved the book back into her sack and pulled it close, before checking who it was that might’ve discovered her, “Can we… can I apologise?” Zoey practically mouthed the words, though her pretty lips hardly moved at all. Like all those openly affiliated with Gretchen, she was stunning at a minimum, though in different ways.

Naturally tanned skin dominated her features and helped her lively, green eyes stand out. Her hair was a dark red, closer to an auburn tone and was cut into a long pixy-cut. It curled into her left-cheek. Carmen had to rear her head back to properly take in the taller student, whose body seemed designed for athleticism. Long legs with powerful quads and thighs, and sleek curves. Her arms were soft to the eye and folded behind her back.

If not for what she had done, Carmen might’ve enjoyed such a view. Instead, her eyes darkened into a vicious glare that her voice reflected, “No, now fuck off.”

“I…” Zoey gulped, shying away as if she were a small dog being reprimanded. She slowly brought her arms around to the front, a familiar wrapped package rested in her hands, undamaged in the slightest. Carmen rushed to her feet and took the gift away, looking it over in disbelief. Even the tag was still in place, “I put it in my locker so Gretchen wouldn’t find out.”

The athlete turned to leave, offering a half-hearted wave goodbye.

“Wait,” Carmen snapped, clinging to the present as if it were a scholarship letter. Zoey stopped and slowly circled around, a look of worry on her face, “Why’d you do it?”

“Because Gretchen told me to,” Zoey explained, her voice still as light as air.

“Not that. Why’d you save this?”

“Um,” Zoey smiled shyly, “She only said to ruin your stuff… that’s for someone else, so…”

Carmen didn’t notice her laughter until it had already trailed from her lips, “Clever.”

“Th-thanks,” Zoey blushed, red peeking through her bronze cheeks. Carmen returned to where she was sat, smiling softly at Melody’s present while Zoey hovered anxiously.

“What is it?” Carmen inquired. Nearly every ounce of her earlier fury had retreated from her consciousness, skulking back into the corners of her mind, waiting to be called on again.

“Just… how do you do it? You know, standing up to Gretchen like yesterday,” Zoey murmured.

“She’s a spoiled bitch, doesn’t mean she’s the President of the US or anything. Though I don’t know who’d be worse right now,” Carmen added under her breath, then glanced up as Zoey giggled.

“I think she’d OD before she could be sworn in.”

“She does drugs?” Carmen rolled her eyes, “Why am I not surprised?”

“And she drinks,” Zoey added, forming a slight smile.

“I almost feel bad for Ms. Blake,” Carmen mused, “You can sit down, you know.”

“Oh, uh sure,” Zoey squatted down beside Carmen, though she kept over a foot between them and hugged her knees to her chest.

“Why aren’t you over there?” Carmen nodded to the track team on the field, though calling it such was more out of principle. Any markings that designated as such were long gone. Only a single goal post remained standing, the others having fallen to rust or weather. The track team still enjoyed themselves, laughing almost obnoxiously loud when a member tripped and her shorts ripped. Or that was what Carmen presumed was happening, since she couldn’t make them out very clearly from such a distance.

“Gretchen wanted me nearby,” Zoey lowered her head to hide it in her knees, as if ashamed to mention the queen bee’s name aloud.

“Should’ve figured,” Carmen muttered.

“I’m really sorry,” Zoey peeked at the honour student, glancing from the bland, beige wall to her, then the grass and back again.

“It…” Carmen took a deep breath, forcing her arms to stay relaxed, “It’s not really your fault. Gretchen made you, after all. How come you let her push you around like that? You should be able to run away if nothing else.”

“I can’t help it,” Zoey divulged, once again lowering her face, “She scares me… everyone does…”

“Then why’re you talking to me?” Carmen questioned.

“Dunno,” Zoey shrugged, “Guilt?”

Carmen sighed and glanced at her second-hand watch. The seconds arrow stuttered constantly, while the minute hand was always fluctuating between ahead and behind the actual time. She’d grown used to it by then, able to guess the time with a ninety-percent accuracy, “Class is starting soon,” she stood up and turned to stare down at Zoey.

“You can’t be happy taking crap from people, Zoey,” Carmen determined, offering a hand to the limber athlete, “Take it from me. Stick up for yourself, even if it scares you.”

Zoey let out a nervous laugh as she took her hand, rising to stand just over the honour student. The athletic student didn’t openly admit it, but Carmen could see her pride at being so tall, “Rachel says the same thing.”


“Well, she usually adds ‘fuck those fucking fucks’… or something.”

“Charming,” Carmen dryly complimented.

They separated prior to entering the school building. Neither wanted to think about what Gretchen might do if she thought they were friends, though very few people occupied the tattered hallways. Carmen glanced to down the corridor as she came to her class, watching as Zoey hesitantly stepped into the girl’s restroom. It was faint, but she heard Gretchen’s voice filter through the gently bustling air. She spared a mournful thought for the girl and stepped into the classroom.

Dakota turned in her seat as Carmen sat behind her. She’d changed from her usual desk at the furthest corner in recent weeks at Dakota’s behest, though she hardly resisted. Having someone – who wasn’t a perverted deity – to distract her from the mundane lessons was strangely pleasant.

“You okay?” Dakota asked, ignoring the teacher as they entered. Most of the students did the same, even those that came in after them. The educator hardly glanced at them, simply reading mindlessly from their textbook.

“Yeah,” Carmen exhaled slowly as she tapped her pen against the old and chipped desk, unable to note anything down until she could buy new materials, including the school’s textbooks, which didn’t come cheap. Hopefully her mother could handle the finances without her humble addition for the next month.

“What about the books?” Dakota continued, glancing at the ordinarily occupied space on Carmen’s desk. Without a pad of some kind to inhabit the area, all the gouges and crude drawings on the once finely crafted wood were plain to see.

“I’ll make do,” Carmen shrugged, “I always do.” She spared a grimace for her clothes, particularly her top. It wasn’t as bad as the brown sweater from yesterday, but that was far from a compliment. Individual threads could be seen around the neckline, which came dangerously close to revealing the tops of her breasts, and the hem drooped an inch above her skirts end.

“It’s a shame you’re so curvy,” Dakota sighed, “Must be hell finding clothes that’ll fit.”

Carmen arched a doubtful brow, “Please, I’ve seen you staring at my chest.”

“Can you blame me?” Dakota tilted her head innocently.

“Yeah… you’re the one that does it.”

“Fine,” Dakota sighed and slumped in her chair, folding her leg to idly swing it, “If you need new clothes, I don’t mind pitching in.”

“It’s fine, Dakota,” Carmen enthused.

“Maybe some of Mary’s might fit?”

“It’s fine,” Carmen repeated firmly.

“Okay, okay,” Dakota raised her hands in surrender, then lowered them and changed the subject, “I saw Zoey chase after you.”

“Yeah. We talked a bit.”

“Poor girl,” Dakota shook her head, “All she kept saying before she left was ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’.”

“She’s not bad,” Carmen noted, “Just needs a backbone.”

“Damn straight. It’d be great if she wasn’t Gretchen’s bitch anymore.”

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded and glanced down at her bag where, like it always did, the Futa Note peeked out to tempt her, and, like always, she found it nigh-impossible to resist. But she did.

Carmen couldn’t get her mind off Zoey. Each time that she passed the tanned athlete, who, alongside Rachel, always trailed several paces behind Gretchen and Ashley, she constantly looked on the verge of fleeing. She even overheard Gretchen deriding Zoey while in the lunch line, and not in a friendly manner like some would, but openly insulting the track star. The cafeteria was once again off limits to Carmen and her friends, forcing them outside. They sat against the school building, facing the field.

Several students eventually filed out from the cafeteria and onto the field as lunch break continued. They were mostly comprised of the track team, since they were the only athletics club that still had regular attendees, and decent equipment. The school refused to even pay for a soccer ball, much less provide additional equipment like netting or gymnastic mats. And the students were far from enticed to spend their own money.

How Saint Puella had remained open for so long eluded Carmen. Especially when their students primary form of pastime during recess was to play tag or leave campus to play hooky for the rest of the day, though the former usually lasted the entire year. She’d glimpsed the school’s attendance list last month and found that over half the student body was regularly absent. A blessing, since the school would likely crumble under so many feet.

It was a miracle that it didn’t anyway. She glanced up at the roof, where the drainpipes hung ominously far from the structure, no doubt weakened from the relentless accounts of students climbing them. They creaked and groaned in the gentle breeze, just waiting for a gust to send them careening to the ground below. And perhaps crush an unsuspecting student or teacher in the process.

“Isn’t that Zoey?” Dakota pointed to the field, bringing Carmen’s attention away from the lurking danger. If the pipes fell, they would land several feet away from her spot.

“Yeah… and she’s It. Again,” Mary sighed.

“She just tagged someone,” Dakota noted.

“And they’ll get her again with just one word,” Mary commented, lifting her fingers to count the seconds before Zoey was announced as It once more. She chased after people, but her attempts were half-hearted at best. The moment they told her to leave, she turned to another target, who did the same. It was an endless cycle until she caught someone unawares. Then she tagged only moments later.

“Why does she even play with them?” Carmen wondered aloud, unable to resist glowering at the physically superior runner. This was a person born with almost every advantage over Carmen, so then why would she have to take such abuse. Her intimidating height aside, she could at least enjoy herself.

“It’s better than dealing with Gretchen,” Dakota answered, while Mary only nodded. Carmen shook her head and stood.

“I’m heading to the computer room. I’ve gotta look up a few things.”

Once inside the dingy room, where two rows of chipped desks housed horribly outdated computers, she turned to address the permanent presence at her side, “Can the Futa Note change a person’s personality? Without making them a futa, that is.”

“Oh? You finally acknowledge my existence and that’s all you have to say to me?” Ryuka draped an arm over her face and shook her shoulders, forcing out fake sobs that wouldn’t have convinced a drunk.

“Can it?” Carmen persisted.

“Fine,” Ryuka sighed dramatically and floated over to sit atop a computer, the blocky tower more than capable of supporting her bountiful ass, “The answer is ‘no’. Any name written in that book makes that person a futa. Doesn’t matter what you write or how you phrase it, they’ll have a dick and a pussy.”

“And what if I removed the name afterwards?”

“Then it’ll just reappear,” Ryuka snickered, “Really, you think the book exists just for my kind’s amusement?”

“What does it exist for?” Carmen frowned. The Seikogami was right, her species survived off sex, yet their bodies and powers were more than enough to lure anyone into such a trap. Why would they need the book?

“Hell if I know,” Ryuka shrugged, “The Queen might, but she’s all the way over in my world.”

“You have a queen?” Carmen inquired doubtfully.

“Well, not really… she’s just the most powerful one of us all. Kind of gives her the right to do whatever she wants,” Ryuka explained, then changed the subject back to Carmen’s query, “Why’d you ask something so strange anyway?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Carmen stated and left the room, though Ryuka remained at her side, absentmindedly fiddling with her nipples.

“I get that you’re still angry,” Ryuka started, “But cheer up.”

“I’m not angry,” Carmen bristled, then took a breath to calm herself.

“Sure,” the Seikogami rolled her crimson eyes and moved to hover just behind Carmen’s head, then leaned down to press her lips close to her ear, “Don’t forget, you’ve got that date with Stacy later.” Carmen froze in place, startling the perverse deity, whose soft mounds crashed into Carmen’s back. The nipples poked against her, unmistakable in their rigid yet squishy texture.

“Oh fuck,” Carmen groaned and rounded on the Seikogami, setting her sight firmly on Ryuka’s eyes, “If you do anything to ruin that, I will find a way to make you suffer.”

“Honey, please,” Ryuka chuckled, causing her breasts to quake sensually and her cock to sway, “You already bore me half to death every day, what more could you do?”

“Dunno, maybe I only feed you rotten oranges?”

Ryuka’s smile fell in an instant, her full lips curling into a disgusted grimace, yet she somehow still looked beautiful, “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right. I won’t,” Carmen said and turned her back on the god, “So long as you stay away tonight.”

“Sometimes I hate you humans,” Ryuka murmured bitterly, then added under her breath, so quiet that Carmen barely heard her, “But that’s why you’re so fascinating.” And the same to you, Carmen thought yet remained silent.

The remainder of the day passed in relative calmness. Gretchen only made passing insults toward the three, apparently satisfied with the earlier outburst on Carmen’s part. Classes were strange for the honour student, her bag empty save for a cursed book, a pen and Melody’s present, and her desk void of any form of education. They sailed by, carried along by an endless string of conversation courtesy of Dakota or Mary, sometimes both.

“You should come over some time,” Mary had offered.

“We can go to the movies. My treat,” Dakota had suggested.

She declined them both. Chances were that she’d need to work weekends to buy new note and text books, not to mention the hours it’d take to redo her notes. Most were committed to memory, but she had no desire to take such a risk when the exams started. Anything that might hamper her college degree had to be controlled. No matter how hard she had to work to do so.

A year of non-stop studying. Weeks of late-night shifts.

“Whatever it takes,” Carmen whispered under her breath as the final bell rung, its shrill echo bounced around the school before it was cut off abruptly. It gave one last ring a moment later and faded into obscurity, undoubtedly broken, fated to be thrown out and unreplaced. The honour student took a deep breath as she followed the masses, praying that it wasn’t an omen. Perhaps if she and Stacy hit it off, she could move in with her and lessen the load on Alicia.

Not to mention the perks. Carmen sighed into the open air, a pale smile lifted her lips at the thought. She would wake up to Stacy’s cheerful face, or pressed against her buxom figure, their home filled with the aroma of coffee and herbs. After they spent the night… her mind trailed off as a gentle warmth thrummed to life within her, one that steadily distended into her lower half. Mary noticed her smile and nudged the honour student.

“You look way too happy to be going to work,” the blonde pointed out, staring up at her.

“I have a great boss,” Carmen defended, glancing at her friend. Mary’s shirt stretched tight over her chest, its neckline forced to bare a large portion of her cleavage. It left her arms and navel bare, while her skirt barely managed to conceal her cock. She never purposefully revealed it, however the wind often had other ideas. Even just a leg raised a centimetre too high made her circumcised tip peek into the open. It also made her voluptuous ass stand out all the more.

The warmth flared hotter as it weaved its way between Carmen’s thighs. She couldn’t help but imagine how Stacy might look dressed so revealingly, her pudgy belly on display, hips scarcely contained beneath a skirt that was much too small, and a huge cock dangling almost to her knees between her meaty thighs. Her imagination paused at the final image, yet the thought still lingered.

“You sure it’s not something else?” Mary teased, wriggling her eyebrows. She leaned in close, pressing her firm bust against Carmen’s arm.

“I’m sure,” Carmen insisted.

“Who’re you trying to fool, Carmen?” Dakota snickered, jogging to step in front of them, “I’d bet we all had the same thought yesterday.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carmen turned her head to the side, avoiding Mary’s cleavage.

“Fine,” the pair sighed, relaxing into their usual pace alongside Carmen.

“You better give us details,” Mary quipped, earning a bemused snort from Dakota.

“Only if you shut up,” Carmen grumbled.

“So you admit it!” Mary announced with a broad smirk.

“No, I… whatever,” Carmen hung her head, defeated.

“You deserve someone nice,” Mary said, softly.

Dakota nodded, “Well, as nice as you can get when they’re not me.”

“Says the futa with the smaller dick,” Mary cackled, causing Dakota’s cheeks to redden through her tan.

“Wait, have you two…?” Carmen glanced between them, noticing their darkening faces, “I mean, I don’t mind. If you’re getting along, that’s all that matters.”

“It’s not like that, we just, um,” Mary trailed off, looking to Dakota for support.

“Helped each other out,” the half-German stated.

“I won’t harp on it if you guys don’t on me,” Carmen proposed. The other two nodded, then parted ways as they came to a stop in front of Soothe the Soul. Carmen stood there and stared through the ceiling height window, watching Stacy move from the front to the back like a yoyo, curves swaying with each hypnotic step. Her trademark smile only faltered when she had to rush but returned just as quickly.

There were only a small handful of customers seated amongst the three tables. They looked about ready to leave. One swirled his cup and set it down with a disappointed sigh, while another pair made their way to a bin. A familiar woman diligently typed away at her laptop, only pausing to sip her coffee or push her glasses back into place. She had become a regular over the past month, usually showing up during Carmen’s shifts.

The honour student focused on her reflection in the glass. No one mentioned the changes that had plagued her since finding the Futa Note, even now that she looked half-a-foot taller, or that her breasts had more than doubled in size. They didn’t sag, though, or not enough for their sheer mass. Likewise, her ass had swelled spectacularly and her hips had widened accordingly. Her skin was paler than before as well, her eyes and hair were darker and she swore her lips had filled out.

She almost resembled a more realistic variant of Ryuka, despite how impossible such a prospect was. It wasn’t unfathomable that she would experience a sudden growth spurt at eighteen, or that her hair and eyes might change shades, yet she couldn’t quell the sense that it was unnatural. Carmen turned her attention away from her visage and entered the coffee shop. There was something far more appealing to focus on.

Her eyes trailed over to the regular, whose own gaze had drifted away from her screen over to Carmen. They quickly darted away when she noticed her looking, but Carmen was certain she caught another glance in her direction. A secret admirer perhaps, Carmen thought with a slight grin. It spread wider and shone her teeth as Stacy greeted her.

“Hey, Carmen,” the coffee proprietor leaned onto the counter, breasts mashing against it, “It’ll be another ten minutes until Roger gets here. Care for something to drink? It’s on the house,” she added, spying Carmen’s hesitation.

“I’d love something, Stacy. Thank you.”

“Be right back,” Stacy said and turned, sashaying down the tight path into the back. The counter filled the front of the shop, leaving plenty of room for people to stand and talk, while they rested their drinks or arms on the wood-framed glass, which usually housed an array of baked goods. Though most were sold out or unavailable. Carmen watched her employer, turned girlfriend, walk away, wondering if she was exaggerating her swaying hips more than usual. She enjoyed the view regardless.

Then it dawned on her. The realisation that in no more than ten minutes – six-hundred measly seconds – she would be on a date with this person, someone who actively supported her since freshman year. Carmen leaned against the counter and sighed once Stacy’s delicious rear left her sights. Without any prior experience or even a decent education at that time, the cheery coffee-lover accepted her application and even paid her minimum wage right off the bat. How many other employers would do that?

Above all that, Stacy even reciprocated her newly surfaced feelings. Carmen wouldn’t deny that she had frequently fantasised about Stacy, not when the knowledge was shared between them, though she never thought those feelings went into romanticism. Maybe it still wasn’t, but she could believe the delusion. It was easy since her heart thumped harder as Stacy rounded the corner, cup in hand and an enigmatic smile on her face. She almost looked mischievous. Or aroused.

Carmen’s mind flitted back to yesterday and what Ryuka had implied. She quickly chased the thought away, trapping it in the furthest corner of her mind with her worries, and took the cup from Stacy with a grateful nod. It smelled sweeter than the usual blend, the fluid was thicker too and a lighter colour, yet it looked no less appetising. She inhaled a mouthful and swallowed with a contented sigh.

Exactly as the shop name implied, she swore the fluid worked its way into her very soul. Any discord it found was washed away, leaving only a sense of serenity. That was how Stacy tended to describe the feeling. Carmen didn’t necessarily share her opinion; the subtly bitter blend certainly calmed her nerves however.

Business was slow, as it often was at four o’clock. Most people were still working and students, college or younger, hadn’t necessarily acquired their appreciation for coffee yet. Though the location didn’t help matters. Nestled into a predominantly residential district, Soothe the Soul often went amiss in favour of the larger, more accessible brand names that crowded the malls or coveted the business neighbourhoods. If not for their regulars, Soothe the Soul likely would’ve gone under long ago.

Ten minutes passed wreathed in quiet excitement. Carmen frequently forced herself to focus on anything but the clock that hung above the counter, its hands moving painfully slow for her liking, as if it were purposefully drawing out each second. Then it finally happened. The minute hand came leisurely came to a stop at the two, almost exactly ten minutes after Carmen had entered the store. On cue, Stacy left the front to answer a series of knocks from the back.

“Sorry folks, we will be closing early today to restock. Could you please leave the store and have a lovely day?” Stacy announced. A small groan came from the woman working at her laptop, but she and the few other patrons stood regardless. No one could refute Stacy’s smile. It was a miracle she hadn’t grown into a spoiled brat, given how often Carmen had seen her flash a smirk and get her way.

“This is really happening?” Carmen wondered aloud, then jerked as her arm was taken by another. Turning, she immediately relaxed as her vision was saturated in sweetness incarnated. Stacy had somehow changed clothes without Carmen’s noticing. Her bright blouse was replaced with a simple vest and denim jacket, while her legs were snugly fit into cobalt capri pants, they each highlighted her full form. Her hair was pushed back and clipped in place to properly show off her warm face.

“I’d say so,” Stacy chuckled and pulled on her employee, ushering her through the door, “So, how was school?” The heart-faced coffee lover asked with a high giggle.

“How’s that funny?” Carmen frowned, though she couldn’t resist cracking a nervous smile.

“Because I’m thirty-eight, Carmen,” Stacy laughed.

“Oh god,” Carmen echoed the sound out of sheer amazement. They walked down the sidewalk, people parting around them like they would for any other couple. Yet they were twenty years apart, “I… I guess we can do some mommy-daughter roleplay…” She clapped a hand over her mouth at the words, then glanced around for Ryuka, certain that the unruly god had to be responsible. Yet she was nowhere to be seen.

“My, my,” Stacy chortled, then lowered her voice, “I’m not opposed to the idea, though.”

“Please, never bring it up again,” Carmen begged.

“Sure thing. Now, let’s get a move on. I booked tickets for a movie,” Stacy urged.

“When does it start?”

“Oh, about five minutes ago.”

Two hours drifted by before they exited the theatre. The movie was a silly rom-com, one that elicited laugh after laugh from Stacy. Carmen, on the other hand, found herself wracked with guilt. It was a girl next-door setup, though she always ended up with the wrong guy. The main character wanted to help her but didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Each such a dilemma cropped on screen, it reminded Carmen of Zoey.

“That was lovely,” Stacy sighed upon leaving, smiling to herself.

“Yeah,” Carmen mumbled, forcing a grin. Of course, the always smiling Stacy noticed almost right away.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what one you’d like.”

“It wasn’t that,” Carmen quickly assured her, “I’ve just got something on my mind is all.”

“Hmm, let’s get some dinner and you can tell me about it. A problem shared, is a problem halved after all,” Stacy declared, heading away before Carmen could say anything. She was grateful to have any decision taken from her at that moment. Her last date was over three years ago and it hadn’t gone the best. The memory alone made her heart sink.

They ended up in a small diner. It was modelled after the 50’s aesthetic, though with some modern designs and comforts. The floor was a cool blue carpet. Against the walls were the typical booths, simple square tables between leather benches big enough for two each. Condiments sat in the centre of each table. A mahogany bar stood opposite the booths, with a pair of waitresses stood behind it. Taps and bottles lined the wall, then stopped a chalkboard menu. The special was a baked seabass.

Very few other patrons occupied the diner. No one that Carmen recognised. She and Stacy sat toward the end, two booths away from the nearest other occupant. A waitress dressed in a tight shirt and frilly skirt quickly came over with a pair of menus, asked for drinks and zipped away with a friendly smile.

“So, what’s bothering you?” Stacy asked after their orders were taken and their coffee and diet coke were delivered – naturally Carmen took the coke. She took a long gulp of the carbonated beverage.

“It’s this girl at school,” Carmen began, staring into the dark drink as it rippled with the constant bubbles, “She’s being abused by her ‘friends’.” The air-quotes were practically visible as she infused every ounce of disdain for Gretchen into her voice.

“You like her?” Stacy inquired, gazing at the student carefully.

“Not like that,” Carmen flushed, “But she’s a good person that deserves better. She’s just a wimp,” She looked to Stacy and found her eyes, searching for a potential answer within the warm, brown circles, “I want to help her. I can. I just don’t know if I should.”

“Well,” Stacy took a deep, satisfying drink from her coffee, then fixed Carmen with her characteristically kind smirk, “If you have the power to do something good, you should do it.”

“Even if it might make everything worse?”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta hit rockbottom to start going up,” Stacy advised, “Oh, I should write that down. Might make a good motivational poster.”

Carmen laughed and leaned forward, extending a hand to take Stacy’s own, “Thanks, Stacy. You should be a public speaker or therapist you know.”

“Me? No, no,” Stacy chuckled softly as she gripped Carmen’s hand, “I only give out advice to people who’ve earned it.”

“I don’t feel like I have yet,” Carmen said, moving closer. Her hair fell into a curtain facing the bar, shrouding her blush from view, “Maybe I should pay you back.”

“I like the sound of that,” Stacy agreed, closing the distance until her lips were on the verge of meeting Carmen’s. The honour student caught the scent of mint leaves and coffee, an oddly pleasant mixture, as she leaned in to her employer.

“Name your price,” Carmen whispered and, finally, closed the gap. Stacy’s lips were just as soft as yesterday, her taste just as strong and familial, and her tongue just as intrepid.

“Ahem,” the waitress cleared her throat, forcing the two apart. Carmen turned her down and aside, barely able to keep from covering her face in shame, “Sorry ladies. Here’s the special, and here’s the crab cakes. Enjoy.” She left with a broad, knowing smirk on her face.

“Let’s eat,” Stacy decided, already slicing into her crab cakes.

“Uh huh,” Carmen nodded. She felt almost numb with shock. Never in her life had she even considered doing something like that, not in public that is. Although, she would’ve gone much further if they weren’t. She, again, chased the thoughts away. Ryuka must’ve been wearing off on her, that or the Futa Note was somehow playing with her mind.

“Then we’ll head back to my place,” Stacy added quickly. Carmen froze, fork halfway to her gawking mouth. Her employer looked away as she chewed, warm cheeks a deeper rose than normal, “If you’d like.”

Carmen’s heart raced a mile a minute, bouncing in her chest like a jackhammer. Her mind whirled, thoughts spiralling through her consciousness in an endless circle, as if carried by a violent tornado. Heat blossomed across her skin, making her clothes feel much too hot. It quickly seared across her thighs and into her crotch. She could practically feel the moisture building.

“I-I’d love to.”

She was nervous standing around waiting for the date to begin. She was nervous when they left the store. When they entered the movie theatre. When they had dinner. Even just walking together made her heart race.

None of those grazed the surface of how she felt at that moment, stood in Stacy’s apartment above the shop. It wasn’t fancy, a single large room with a bedroom toward the far-left and a bathroom opposite it. A couch and coffee table sat in front of a modest tv, and to the right of them was a kitchen counter, on which a toaster and microwave rested beside a small vase of flowers. The smell of caffeine saturated the area, doing little to settle Carmen’s jittery nerves.

Stacy did nothing to help either. The coffee proprietor pulled her in deeper by the hand, never looking back as she walked with an urgency Carmen rarely saw from her. Another vague scent drifted across Carmen’s senses, tickling her burgeoning lust. She recognised it without ever smelling it before, an aroma much like her own sex; the smell of a woman’s desire. The sound of her gulp must’ve been plainly audible, yet Stacy kept pulling.

“It’s not too late,” Stacy eventually said after they came to a stop in front of a closed door. The honour student wanted to agree, kiss her goodnight and head home. If they did this, then what would happen to their work relationship, or perhaps Carmen would love herself in the sensations and become addicted. Her mouth refused to give voice to her thoughts, however.

“Do… do you want me to go?” Carmen practically whispered, her words barely above a breath.

“Of course not, but…”

“Then let’s do it,” Carmen pressed. Every ounce of her quivering confidence went into that sentence, trying to sound as certain as her body felt. She thought of how she had restrained herself for the past few months, never indulging in her constant desires to touch her pussy just to spite Ryuka. The Seikogami wasn’t there, though. Just herself and Stacy.

Her eyes once again traced across the coffee lover’s full figure. Every inch that she took in only heightened her desires. She wanted to kiss those lips again, to caress those cheeks, feel those breasts against hers, hear the older woman moan for more… so much more.

She didn’t let Stacy answer. Carmen pulled her in for another kiss, infusing it with the sheer ferocity of her always rising lust. When Stacy returned her affections, Carmen’s hands travelled across her lush frame to cup her ass, each voluptuous cheek more than a match for her palm and fingers combined. They were softer than Carmen’s pillows and sagged just enough to fill her hands on their own.

She crept closer to the valley between the cheeks. The capri pants were so thin that she clearly felt her employers body through them, every inch of pliant flesh. Carmen sank deeper into the kiss, leaning down to wriggle her fingers between Stacy’s thighs. She groaned hotly as she brushed against a wet patch, one that had nothing to do with sweat, and pressed into it. A soft, musical moan rumbled in Stacy’s chest and reverberated into Carmen’s.

The coffee lover pulled back with a breathless gasp. Her lips were shiny with saliva, cheeks flushed a loving red and eyes half-shut, “You… you’re a natural,” she chuckled.

“I still need practice,” Carmen darted back in, resuming where they’d left off, as if they’d stopped for hours rather than seconds. All the days of repressed, raw sexual need seemed to break back into her psyche all at once. She could probably cajole them into submission again, though it’d be an arduous undertaking. And why would she want to?

Stacy arched her lower back and spread her legs, forcing Carmen to lean in further. Every brush against the growing wet patch earned a soft moan, each one stronger than the last. Their tongues duelled, dancing against one another, passing spit back and forth. It leaked from between their hungry lips, threatening to stain their clothes. Neither gave a thought to stopping, however.

“Let’s…” Stacy panted when they separated again, “Let’s get in bed.”

The bedroom was akin to the apartment. Plain with only some essentials thrown in for flavour. A modest dresser stood beside the single-bed, on which the striped sheets rested in a messy heap. There was something that stood out to Carmen, however, and that was the distinctly phallic shaped that peaked out from a box in a corner. She turned to Stacy, who, for perhaps the first time since Carmen had met her, looked genuinely embarrassed. She, nonetheless, walked to the box.

“It, uh, gets lonely sometimes,” Stacy explained with a half-hearted shrug and set the box on her bed, then invited Carmen over to inspect the contents. Her eyes almost instantly pounced on an unexpected item.

“A breast pump?” Carmen frowned, glancing at Stacy’s breasts. The woman was certainly old enough to be a mother, though Carmen had never heard anything of a child or ex-husband.

“Y-yes,” Stacy looked at her breasts shyly, “I… have a condition. I’ll spare you the boring stuff, but it’s safe to say I lactate.”

“Galactorrhoea,” Carmen stated, her voice back to barely a whisper as she stared at Stacy’s chest.

“Smart,” Stacy smiled, “Yes, that’s right. I’ve been lucky, though. No other effects or symptoms. Just the milk.”

“Can I see?” Carmen requested. Her throat was dry in an instant, while her pussy never felt wetter. Stacy went to pull her shirt over her head, mere moments away from showing Carmen every inch of her attention demanding breasts, then paused as a nasal ringing echoed through the apartment from the main room. Carmen instantly recognised it as her phone.

Which only meant one thing. Dakota and Mary didn’t call at her behest. The only person who called her, and never without good reason, was her mother. Carmen quickly rushed from the room and to her bag. A short conversation later and she walked back to Stacy.

“That was my mom, um, I’ve gotta get home soon before she goes to her next job.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Stacy smiled back, “As you can see, I’ve got plenty of ‘friends’ to keep me company.”

Part of Carmen wanted her to demand that she stay and finish what they started. But she couldn’t leave Melody alone all night, not in that place. They’d had more than a couple of break-ins, though never when they were at home. It would only be a matter of time, however.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have another chance at this for a while, huh?” Carmen softly mourned as she left the room once more. Stacy followed, smoothing out her vest.

“Not until next week. And even that’s not guaranteed,” Stacy sighed and opened the door for Carmen.

“I’ll, uh, see you at work Thursday,” Carmen said and turned to leave. Her arm was caught and tugged back. Before she could say anything, she found her face mashed into Stacy’s naked bust.

“Something for you to think about until then,” Stacy giggled. The sound rippled through her chest, causing her astonishingly smooth skin to shudder like twin globes of jelly. Carmen’s eyes widened as she heard a sloshing noise come from within. Her wide gaze dragged along the quivering expanse to Stacy’s nipple. It was a dark pink, surrounded by a vast area of plump areolae, and looked almost an inch long and just as wide. Carmen unconsciously licked her lips at the sight and silently wished that they were bigger.

“Let me sleep here,” Carmen mumbled as she nuzzled into a breast, its plush shape almost conforming to her face better than any pillow could. Everything about Stacy seemed to scream softness.

“Sorry, sweetheart, maybe another time,” Stacy laughed, again causing her jellylike bust to jiggle pleasantly. Carmen turned her head to plant a farewell kiss on her employer’s chest, then pulled away.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Carmen breathed.

“Me or the boobs?” Stacy giggled.

“Both,” Carmen deadpanned.

Later that night, after Melody was asleep, Carmen laid awake in her bed. She stared at the corroded ceiling, all too aware that it would likely give after another year at best, presuming the upstairs residents stayed as quiet as they had. It didn’t preoccupy her that night, nor did the uncomfortable mattress beneath her. Calling it a mattress was generous, since it was riddled with holes and the springs stuck out at various sides.

Neither were the reason her fingers dug into the many holes. Or that she had her legs splayed apart and her shorts halfway down her hips. Her face was taut with restraint, jaw set firm and eyes locked dead ahead, seemingly fixated on a dent in the roof. She glanced to her side, then snapped her gaze back into place. A familiar black notebook rested against her bed.

Ever since she’d come home, her every other thought flitted back to the Futa Note. There was so much it could do, like help her remove Gretchen as an obstacle, or help Zoey stand up for herself. Carmen gulped, picturing her urge sliding down her throat to be dissolved in her stomach acids. And yet it remained lodged in her mind, always teetering on the edge of taking over. Her fingers twitched each time her thoughts drifted even a little.

The untended craving toiling away in the bowls of her being didn’t help at all. What part of her consciousness wasn’t preoccupied with Zoey or the book always shot to Stacy, and what they could’ve done if Alicia hadn’t called at that moment. Just an hour later would’ve been fine. Carmen heard a soft snoring nearby and looked to its source.

Ryuka lounged in mid-air just as she always did. It was impossible to tell if she slept or not, as the Seikogami always seemed to be conscious when something interested her. That meant she’d be ready for when Carmen finally masturbated again.

“This is ridiculous,” Carmen muttered under her breath, “Fucking ridiculous.” She turned onto her side, bundling her freed hand in her pyjama shorts, and stared at the Futa Note. The prospect of altering someone’s personality made her chest ache and her stomach fall. Doing so meant stealing their free will. It’s for a good reason, she mentally argued.

Zoey deserved to be treated equally, if not better. That wouldn’t come with time if she stayed the same, her natural submission would come out and people would inevitably take advantage of it. She needed a push. An incentive.

“Fuck it,” Carmen snarled, aiming it at the unperturbed Seikogami. She grabbed the Futa Note and the pen beside it, ignoring the odd thrill that shivered through her fingers and up her arms. Regardless of what she wrote, Zoey would become a futa, that was the inescapable rule for the book, in which case Carmen saw no reason not to use it. Or to have some fun.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 12 - Growing Some Balls

Zoey stood, triumphant over her felled foe. An abomination of nature, crafted to look and speak human, to lure and entice with its bright, blonde hair and erotic figure. Yet, at its core, the creature embodied darkness. Its foul stench, made to replicate strawberries, twisted her insides. She had wanted this moment for so long. No longer would this monstrosity that called itself a human torment her.

No more.

Zoey’s eyes burst open at a sudden bang. Early morning sunlight seeped into her room, illuminating reality in its warm glow. She groaned and propped herself up on her elbow to see her nightstand. Her phone had fallen during the alarm, leaving it cracked around the frame, still it persisted, vibrating on the hard wood floor. The athlete deactivated it, sat up, yawned and stood. A new day, she thought, with new tortures.

She brushed her hair from her brow and rubbed at the crust in her eyes. Last night had been horrible. Gretchen insisted that they celebrate the day’s activities with a trip to a woman’s strip club. As always, the cruel girl had no trouble getting them in without ID or questioning. All she had to do was flash her fake boobs or take the bouncer, bartender and/or cop away from prying eyes and everything became fine. Zoey groaned at the mere thought of drinking another martini.

The fact she didn’t have a hangover was a miracle. Although her head still pounded in the background, not egregious but insistent, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep through the day. But she couldn’t. Gretchen would want her. And what Gretchen wanted, she got. Regardless of what it took.

What would she have her do this time? Zoey wondered as she headed to her bathroom. Her parents were downstairs, preparing for work and discussing plans for a vacation, while her sister’s door remained shut tight. She tip-toed in front of it. The floorboards creaked underfoot. As if waiting for such a sound, Megan’s door flew open to reveal the shorter sibling.

She shared Zoey’s dark, red hair and green eyes, and nothing else. Megan ran a hand through her hair, long and messy unlike Zoey’s controlled cut, while she yawned and scratched at her naked belly, avoiding her latest piercing. Neither said a word as Zoey hurried into the bathroom, thankful for the lack of interaction. Perhaps today wouldn’t be so bad, she thought and sat on the toilet, keen to empty her bladder. She froze, then, as she felt the cold rim of the seat against something other than her toned thighs and buttocks.

Slowly, as if terrified to confirm what she might see, Zoey tilted her head. Short locks of auburn fell over her eyes. She’d need to get a haircut soon. Or maybe she could let it grow out? She couldn’t recall the last time her hair went past her shoulders. While she was at it, she should get a makeover, something extreme so no one would recognise her. Then she could run away without issue.

She could never do it, though. Living by herself, the mere thought passed a shudder down her spine and into her legs, which made the… the thing sway. Zoey’s blood ran cold. She strained to breathe against the tightness in her chest, as if she’d ran half a marathon. None of her zen training worked. She inhaled, held it tight, and released.

Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. She closed her eyes, envisioning a vision of serenity, no Gretchen, no Megan, no worldly concerns, and counted to ten, slow and methodical. The tightness in her chest dwindled. In its place, she allowed peace to comfort her.

She had seen nothing but an illusion, brought on by her fears and sleep deprivation. It couldn’t be real. She sighed, releasing the last of her tension. It couldn’t be real. Her eyes opened, intent on seeing the world for what it really was. It couldn’t be real.

Then why did she still see it? Why did her abs lead down into her bald, feminine groin which mutated into… into a penis?

Zoey gulped and repressed a second quiver. Panic achieved nothing. After she finished her business here, then she could worry in the sanctity of her room. She trained her focus on the tiled, turquoise walls. Nestled between the oceanic colour was the door, painted a stark white, while the PVC floor resembled sand. Her mom decorated most of the house and had a theme for each room, this being the ‘beach house’. Mercifully, she’d spared Zoey and Megan this treatment.

Her distraction dissipated as her bladder relieved itself. She stared down at her body, at the strange, phallic lump on her crotch, and watched as it twitched with the stream. Every inch offered a new sensation, each strange and unwelcome yet intriguing. When the flow subsided, she stood and yelped at the wet slap against her thigh.

“Ugh,” Zoey grimaced and wiped at the dampness left behind. She stared at her penis, uncertain how to proceed. Another drop fell from its tip. How did guys do it? She thought and recalled what she knew. Her fingers curled around the shaft and squeezed, forcing the straggling droplets to fall. A high gasp escaped her lips. She squeezed again, this time moaning as she did so.

She tightened her grip. If any drops remained, she didn’t care. Zoey stroked along her flaccid length, watching the motion as if another person was responsible. Faint palpitations throbbed against her hand, growing stronger after each one. Her considerable length swelled, forced her fingers apart and throbbed before her perturbed gaze. Blood tightened the shaft with each stroke. Its veins took on a stark contrast as they rose across its form.

The growth waned and ended. Zoey’s hand slowed as it reached the top, where a purple crown of sorts bulged out from the already thick shaft. Skin bundled beneath it in a lewd mock of a nest. Her veins supplied the broad, spongy zenith with all the blood it needed. Two distinct shapes hung from the base, pale skin wrapped tight around the spheres.

“It’s huge,” Zoey whispered. A proud smirk slipped onto her face at the sight, before fading as her lips parted into a low moan. Her hand slid back to her body. The sack below jostled against her fingers, leaving a sheen of sweat and a coating of its potent aroma. She pushed along her member, gripped the head and bit her lip at the sensation. Moisture brimmed at the tip, pleasure accompanied it, urging her to stroke again. She did, falling to her unfathomable desires.

Sultry moans reverberated in her throat as she gave her first handjob. To herself. This shouldn’t be possible, she thought. Her spare hand found its way under her loose belly-shirt to her breast, meagre by comparison to the size of her cock. She kneaded her breast, pinched and pulled her nipple as her other limb raced to and fro. A familiar heat called her away from her breast, down past her balls, to her unaffected pussy. Her relief passed as she fell into her usual routine.

She sat back on the toilet and spread her legs wide. Her back arched as her hips bucked, thrusting her cock into the makeshift pussy of her hand, while her real snatch clamped around three of her fingers. Any sense of rhythm, of savouring the sensations, was absent. Zoey moaned and panted in her pleasure. A fourth finger stretched her cunny wider. Drops of her juices fell into the water below.

Pre-cum covered her hand and cock in moments. Fitting, given her insane size. She glided along it, faster by the second. Her fingers plunged into her snatch, curled and scratched at the sopping wet insides, as her thumb massaged the plump orbs above. Higher moans slipped out. Zoey pumped her hips in tandem with her lewd noises.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Zoey wheezed. Her toned abdomen clenched, her eyes rolled and her hips lifted in a final thrust. She wrenched her hand from her pussy and clapped it over her mouth, ignorant to her juices being smeared across her face. The spicy musk of her fem-cum saturated her sinuses. Her cock lurched and, with a muffled roar, Zoey came. Yet her bliss couldn’t go untainted.

“Hurry the fuck up, Zoey! Some of us actually have important shit to do in there!” Megan’s harsh voice bit through the door, frothing with distaste. Violent jerks sent viscous streaks of white sailing throughout the bathroom. One slammed into the mirror cabinet, another knocked Megan’s toothbrush down and a third rocketed into the light switch. Zoey moaned and shook with her orgasm, each moan accompanied by the alien sensation of semen flying from her girl-meat.

Megan banged on the door, yet she went unheeded. For every blow upon the wood, Zoey’s prick twitched and unleashed another volley. Several jets splashed against the door, as if aimed at Megan. The moaning athlete grinned behind her hand. She’d love to get back at her and Gretchen, make them suffer for all the times they degraded her. But she wouldn’t.

She would stay the timid younger sister and subordinate. Such was her place. Zoey gripped her cock tight, blocking the next burst of seed. Yeah, she’d always be the weak one. If she stepped away from her role, the world would punish her for it. Whether it be by Gretchen’s or Megan’s hand, she would suffer, regardless of how she deserved it.

“Are you giving birth in there? Hurry up, shit-stain!” Megan snarled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoey growled back, quiet so her sister didn’t hear. Her legs quivered under her weight, muscles lax after her climax. She ripped off sheet after sheet of toilet paper and surveyed the mess she’d made. Hidden by the walls, she revelled in how prolific her orgasm had been. Half a roll later and she’d wiped up the worst of it, all while Megan threatened and insulted her. Nothing new.

She stuffed her dick back into her shorts. Folds fabric turned smooth as her large member occupied the space, leaving a sizable bulge any observant individual would notice. Except Megan. Zoey pulled open the door and her sister stepped inside, showing no acknowledgement for the girl, aside from a biting comment.

“God, they must be desperate to put you on the track team.”

Zoey inhaled, a deep gust of semen scented air. She held it, took a sliver of pride in the odours strength, and released, saying nothing as she stepped out. Megan slammed the door behind her. A gust of air ruffled Zoey’s shirt, brushing the fabric against her nipples. Her sigh turned to a gasp. Heat flooded her body, went cold and, finally, faded. She studied herself, brow scrunched tight, in search of any other changes. Nothing jumped out at her. She shrugged and returned to her room.

Door locked. Blinds drawn. Naked in front of a mirror. Zoey stared at herself, moving her eyes across her familiar figure, tracing the tan lines around her chest and hips to an unwelcome guest, though it looked no less natural than her breasts.

“Why aren’t I freaking out?” Zoey pondered aloud, hoping for someone or something to provide an answer. If she could go to sleep a girl and wake up as a… a whatever she was now, then anything could be possible, even a disembodied voice guiding her through this strange time. No response came. Of course.

She had an answer, though. She was horrified. Anyone would be. A mixture of last night’s consequences and her lingering afterglow dulled her horror, but it was there on her face, in her tense jawline, twitchy nose and dancing eyes. They all portrayed the singular emotion. Yet she refused to look away from her reflection, fascinated by what should be a portrait of ruined femininity.

Tomboy made for an adequate description of her figure. Slender breasts, toned arms and stomach, and a set of legs Chun Li would take pride in. An exaggeration, but Zoey had no insecurity about her body. Until now. Where once her tight lipped pussy had laid, smooth and cute and nestled between her muscular thighs, now hung a long, conspicuous slab of meat over a pair of apple-sized orbs. It had a darker tone than her natural complexion, and nothing else to distinguish it from her body. A stranger could look at her and think she was born this way.

Born a girl in every way, but with a huge dick. Zoey turned sideways. Her balls, cradled in a smooth sack, held close to their ally, pronouncing it further. Even her loosest pants would show a slight bulge. For once, she appreciated being forced to own a skirt. Though her underwear posed a problem.

She strode over to her drawers. Each step felt new with her cock slapping against her thighs and balls, though not unpleasant. The weight provided a comfort, as if she had something to guard her other, delicate sex. Zoey shook her head and grabbed a set of women’s boxers, designed to fit her form and negate any chafing. She held them against her altered crotch and sighed. One way to find out, she decided.

Tight. Zoey pulled on the band to peer inside her boxers. Her cock curled around its spherical companions, tight as a boa constrictor. All three occupants bundled together and strained the crotch, but it held. She found her regulation knee-length skirt, fastened it and returned to her mirror.

“Oh, great,” Zoey muttered under her breath. Though slight, mistakable for another fold in the fabric at a glance, her member still bulged. If she were a boy, she could flaunt it all she wanted. Few people would bat an eye. And Gretchen… she’d seduce her first chance she got. Zoey smirked at herself, wondering what might happen if she pretended to be a guy, met Gretchen and tricked her. If she recorded it, would Gretchen leave her alone? The blonde blackmailed more than any politician Zoey knew of, she deserved a taste in return.

Alas, such a lofty idea would remain as such. Thinking of confronting Gretchen, to any capacity, much less with the intent to blackmail… she didn’t want to think about it. Zoey checked her cracked phone; ten minutes until school. Truancy meant nothing to her, not since she came under Gretchen and Ashley’s care. Between the pair, they held enough power to have any teacher fired and any student expelled. Or worse.

Her shoulders heaved with a forlorn breath. Gretchen showed up on time every day – it maintained her appearance as an upstanding daughter of the principal – leaving minute opportunities for Zoey to elude her. Time after time, she’d consider going late, acting the part most believed she did – that of a delinquent brute, no better than Gretchen’s Pitbull. But one thing kept her going. Two things, she reminded herself.

Students milled about in their usual cliques. Birds flew and chirped overhead, returned after their winter away, descending to land on the trees, now wreathed in fresh leaves. Early morning dew shimmered on grass. With three minutes until the first bell, no one was keen to confine themselves, yet they meandered toward their classes. Any who played hooky ran the risk of encountering Gretchen.

Zoey jogged at a brisk, consistent pace, alone, on the field. Her sneakers fell, heavy under the force of her powerful legs, and pushed off. She respired and pumped her arms in rhythm with her footfalls. Sweat gleamed across her tanned skin. Drops built, streamed and plummeted behind her. Beneath her skirt, she ignored the unmissable bouncing of her new member.

In any other situation, she couldn’t. Even now, she felt its every move. Her balls became slick in the humid confines of her boxers, sliding across her prick as if masturbating it. But here, in her element, Zoey maintained full control. Her track teammates didn’t practice as she did. They did so for the sake of performing well, to have fun. She wanted for neither of those. Zoey excelled because she needed to practice.

Running made everything go away. Her problems, specifically Gretchen, couldn’t keep up with her. They ate her dust, rather, they choked on it, trapped in a cloud of dirt and grit and shame. Yes, shame. For being slower, weaker, than her, their poor, timid Zoey. For having their superiority put into question. For losing.

“Hey Zoey!”

“Huh?” Zoey slowed her pace, short of breath and looked to the school building. A short, bright redhead strolled onto the field, arm raised in a wave. The athlete trotted to a stop and made her way over, smile on her face. Reason number one for her to be at school; track. Reason number two; Rachel Adams.

“Hey,” Zoey beamed. Her petite friend handed her a towel, “Thanks.”

“Something happen?” Rachel asked. They headed for the main entrance, where several stragglers lazed about, cigarettes lit in blatant view of the ‘no smoking’ sign above the school’s plaque.

“No,” Zoey said.


Zoey shook her head, “It’s nothing.”

“Seems like it’s something to me,” Rachel said.

“It’s nothing serious,” Zoey rectified.

“It’s Gretchen again, isn’t it?” Rachel inquired.

“Always is,” Zoey sighed. She couldn’t tell her about what had become of her body. If anybody found out and the news found its way to Gretchen’s ears, as it always did, she’d be targeted for sure. The smokers caught sight of the two, snuffed out their cigarettes and fled inside. Zoey didn’t bat an eye. By association alone most feared her, Rachel and Ashley, as they did Gretchen.

“Yeah, you better run,” Rachel snickered.

“So, do anything interesting yesterday?” Zoey asked. They strode into the decaying halls, lifeless save for them and the echoes of other students. She wrinkled her nose against the smell before it faded to the background. How could Gretchen’s mother let her school fall like this? A simple question to answer; Gretchen.

When the most powerful student set such a poor example, even while outside of the spotlight during Mary’s reign, others fell in line. And what else could the poor, job-hungry teachers do but nod and turn a blind-eye? Nothing. They needed money and Ms. Blake provided them with it. To badmouth her daughter was to hand in a resignation letter. As many had done. Zoey had to respect their bravery, or perhaps they had better offers waiting. Regardless, she wished such a simple solution would come to her.

“See you tomorrow, Teach!” Gretchen said, stepping out from a classroom. Ashley scampered after her, wide frame jiggling in her rush. With Gretchen’s whereabouts marked, she had no further obligations to be at school. Therefore, neither did Zoey or the other two, regardless of whether they wanted to. The pairs came to a stop before each other.

“Hey there, guys,” Gretchen beamed, her brilliant teeth shone out amongst the glossy red of her lips. Her eyes gleamed, “Nice work yesterday, Zoey. I almost thought she was gonna cry.”

“Yeah,” Zoey shied away, moving behind Rachel. The diminutive redhead glanced up and rolled her eyes. Her face spoke words she’d repeated time after time; stand up for yourself. In return, Zoey looked away.

“Finally found a use for you,” Gretchen laughed and led them back out. She ignored the yin-yang duo hanging behind her, instead she focused on Ashley, the new second in command of their group, despite possessing no more confidence than Zoey. The athlete shrugged into her shoulders, ready to slink away if Gretchen’s mood changed.

“You seem nervous. More than normal,” Rachel said. They strode out the main doors, into the morning sunlight. Cars honked and revved nearby, their noises calling for the quartet to follow. Gretchen heeded the summon, while Ashley, Zoey and Rachel trailed behind her, a set of ducklings following their mother. For she guided them, for better or worse.

“It’s nothing,” Zoey repeated. Her brow twitched as a strange, if familiar sinking sensation fell across her body, with a faint warmth that faded into a coolness. The feelings vanished soon after, without a hint as to why they appeared at all.

“Don’t tell me you feel bad about yesterday?” Rachel asked.

“Yes,” Zoey said.

“Why? Carmen might not act like it, but I’d bet she’s a real bitch. Probably worse than Gretchen. Anyone who looks like that, can’t be good.”

“She’s nice.”

“How do you know? What if she forced Mary and Dakota to be her little slaves?” Rachel pressed.

“She was pissed, Rachel,” Zoey said, “Furious. More than I’d seen from Gretchen. She looked like she’d punch me until I died, or she was exhausted.”


“And she didn’t. She just… she and I talked.”

“Whatever,” Rachel said, “Still don’t like her.”

Gretchen pulled them along and into the nearby mall. Nothing special. Four floors, two for shopping, one for food and another for entertainment. The third level acted as their usual haunt, until Gretchen decided for a change of scenery. They strode into a quaint restaurant and headed for a booth toward the back. The host knew Gretchen well, offering her a knowing smirk and wink. She returned the gesture and added a kiss. He abandoned his position at the front and headed into the staff bathroom.

“Be back in ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” Gretchen left them. Once out of sight, locked behind a restricted door, the remaining trio relaxed. Moments later, a waitress arrived. Heavy bags shadowed her eyes, a permanent grimace on her face. She didn’t bother to meet either customer’s gaze.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a burger, medium-well, salad on the side and a diet coke,” Rachel said.

“I’ll have the steak, medium, fries and a milkshake,” Ashley said.

“Um,” Zoey scanned her menu, glancing at the server.

“Just hurry up already,” the waitress groaned.

“Sorry,” Zoey shied away, “Um… just a Sprite, please?”

“Took you long enough.”

Zoey’s head fell forward. Everyone knew the saying ‘grow some balls’, something she had taken literally, though unintentional, yet she remained a coward. There, beneath her dress, was something a man would be empowered by. He’d flirt, laugh, stand up to Gretchen and, most important, everyone else. Yet she remained the same.

Her body sank, flushed and cooled as it had twice before. She ignored it, hoping and dreading for it to be a cold. A delicate hand found its way to her arm, rousing her.

“Don’t worry about it. She was being an ass,” Rachel said.

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded.

“When she comes back, I can order you a nice, big, fat plate of grease and meat. Give you an excuse to run later.”

Zoey giggled, “Thanks.” Opposite the two, Ashley watched as an outsider. She knew them but not as friends. They hung out, talked on occasion and shared a fear of Gretchen. No more. Zoey didn’t know much about Ashley, and vice versa. It worked better that way, should the unthinkable happen again and they break away from Gretchen. As Dakota had done.

A minute later and the waitress returned with their drinks. Rachel ordered Zoey’s soup and demanded an apology, undaunted by the server’s tired glare. A paradox, Zoey thought. She, who stood above six feet, couldn’t handle one girl’s bitter attitude, and Rachel did it with ease. As though blind to the scorn. How? Zoey wondered, not for the first time.

Rachel, on the surface, appeared to have nothing worth taking pride in. Any man would see her and dismiss the petite girl as ‘cute’. A word, Gretchen claimed, that meant a girl lacked anything sexy for men to latch onto. Zoey wasn’t a man. Rachel’s oval face sported green eyes, alive with all the life of a forest, framed and styled by her messy crimson locks. Curveless, her slender frame lent itself to her height.

“Thank you,” Zoey said and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“No problem,” Rachel shrugged. Her pallor deepened into a slight blush. She’s so cute, Zoey thought. Something hijacked her muscles and she leaned in to give another. Rachel turned to face her, lips within reach. Zoey was running again. Nothing mattered anymore but her own desire for freedom, to act on her impulses without fear of judgement. She came close enough to smell Rachel’s subtle perform and her berry-scented shampoo.

“Phew! That was great, Mike!” A breathless, obnoxious, vacuous voice shattered her mindset. Zoey snapped back into her former position. A blush threatened to burn her cheeks, kept at bay through the very embarrassment responsible for it. Gretchen plopped down beside Ashley, hair and clothes dishevelled and reeking of sex. All she lacked was a cigarette to complete the ‘well-fucked’ look.

“We’ve gotta get you some boys, Zoey. I’d almost think you’re a dyke,” Gretchen laughed, high from her bathroom tryst.

Zoey said nothing and nodded. It wasn’t her place to speak out here. Even as the familiar rush of hot and cold flowed and dissipated, again without a trace as to where it came from, she kept her silence. Complaints were reserved for topics Gretchen whined about, not for speaking of personal qualms or distaste.

“Here you are.” Zoey looked up to see a new waitress. Their old one hovered in the background, shambling about the floor to avoid their table. She glanced their way and back in an instant, as if she saw Gretchen and decided against glaring. Few good things came from Gretchen’s company. Intimidation by reputation was one.

“I’ll get the surf and turf,” Gretchen said.

“Alright. What would you like to drink?”

“The strongest beer you’ve got.”

“We don’t serve alcohol this early.”

“Yeah, I don’t care.”

The waitress sighed, “Do you have any ID?”

“Just tell them it’s Gretchen,” the blonde waved her hand dismissively, as a queen might to her servant. The waitress looked around at the other three, all docile and still, waiting for Gretchen to get her meal.

“Uh, o-okay, I’ll be right back then.”

Zoey watched her go, offering a silent apology. Minutes later, Gretchen’s lunch arrived, fillet of salmon with a rib-eye steak beside it, slathered in a white sauce. Before her stood a towering glass filled with a deep, amber liquid, frothing at the rim. Zoey’s wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol. She considered holding her breath for fear of getting drunk on the fumes alone. Gretchen spared her the choice and downed half the pint, released it a satisfied gasp before she set it down with a sharp smack.

“Nothing better than sex and beer!” Gretchen cheered. Behind her, the host smirked as he tidied silverware. Zoey kept her head down as she ate. Her food tasted of nothing, bogged down by the pungent odour of Gretchen’s beverage. It hung in the air, dampening all other scents in a bitter haze.

“What’s the matter with you all?” Gretchen slurred, “Cheer up! Oh wait,” she checked her now emptied glass and waved it high, “Waitress. Fill me back up.”

“Jesus, how much alcohol was in there?” Zoey muttered, then froze. She’d spoken out loud.

Gretchen turned on her, lips upturned in a vicious approximation of a wolf’s snarl, “What’d you say?”

“Uh, n-nothing, Gretchen.”

“No, no. You said something ‘bout me. What was it?”

“Just…” Zoey shrank into the booth seat, shoulders raised high. She felt Gretchen’s drunken anger down to her bones, vibrating at her very core. Everyone did. Ashley, whose money kept her in Gretchen’s eternal good graces, shied away to give the blonde room. Despite her attitude, Gretchen resorted to violence on rare occasions. Or when she’s drunk.

“Come on. Say it!” She slammed a hand on the table, rattling the dishes. Rachel’s coke teetered on the edge.

Zoey’s fear forced her to glance up. She had to see what stared at her, the fury of a maddened animal in a human guise. That feeling of heat flared once more, stronger and without the chill afterwards. She shuddered, a slick trail of sweat made a beeline for her jaw, as if it too wanted nothing more than to escape.

“Here you are!” The waitress returned and placed another pint glass before the underaged drunk. Gretchen sneered at her, then recognised the bitter amber fluid and her face broke into a dulled smirk.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Gretchen giggled and poked Ashley, “Leave her a good tip.”

“A-alright.” Ashley said.

The waitress took the empty glass and left once more. The heat followed her, cooling until Zoey felt normal once more. She wiped away the line of perspiration and relaxed into the leather booth, rejoicing in silence. She let her legs open. A subtle sigh slipped from her lips at the relief to her crotch. No wonder men sit like this, she thought.

“Right, what’re we talking about?” Gretchen asked with several more ounces of poison in her veins.

“Nothing,” Rachel said.

“Really? But that’s boring!” Gretchen whined, “Let’s talk about something fun. Uh… dicks! What’s the biggest you’ve had?” She giggled and turned to Ashley first. If Mary were there, the two might’ve competed for who’s had the biggest, without her Gretchen acted as the sole point of conversation on the subject. Zoey restrained her laughter.

She’d had boyfriends before. None went far. Her insecurities reared their ugly head at the first sign of anything serious, telling her she wasn’t good enough or that she would ruin it somehow. Her heart would race, blood rushing to her head, and her stomach would plummet and twist and curdle. The first time she saw a penis up close, outside the sterile environment of a classroom and the internet, was that morning. But she knew, in no uncertain terms, that hers outmatched anything Gretchen boasted.

Her hand snuck under her skirt to brush against the unnatural shape detained below. She paused, hand cupping her immense bulge. Was it bigger? Zoey glanced around. Rachel focused on her phone, plate empty, while Gretchen attempted to make Ashley give details on the supposed ‘monster dick’ she’d seen. None paid any attention to the tan athlete.

“I need the bathroom,” Zoey said.

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Rachel stood and made way.

“Hey! Where’s she going?” Gretchen demanded.

“To meet a giant dick.” Zoey hurried, lips set tight. Why would she say that? She never said stuff like that. Not around Gretchen, or even Rachel. The blonde’s encouraging cheers followed her until the door swung shut. She checked the other stalls, all empty, and took the closest one should she need a hasty retreat. Secure, guarded on all sides, she undid the clasp holding her skirt in place.

Its secret bulged into the open as the garment fell to her ankles. Zoey glanced about, as if the walls might grow eyes to spy on her, and pushed her underwear down. She took a sharp breath at the swarm of relief. Her cock flopped down, freed at long last, and smacked against her balls in a perverse high five.

“Holy shit,” Zoey rasped and rubbed at her groin, grimacing at how slick her skin had become, trapped in the cramped, sultry confines of her boxers, “Holy shit.” She repeated as her eyes fell on her member. As she’d feared, it had grown. She wrapped her hand around its flaccid girth, despite every facet of her logical mind screaming how wrong, how worrying this should be. So warm, she thought and raised her member, testing the weight.

Her balls had followed suite. Where they once resembled apples, she now saw softballs. She released the shaft to study the orbs, and watched it fall between her knees. Her body stilled, confusion etched itself across her face. The penis looked huge, but not nearly long enough to hang so far down. She raised her head and looked around again, careful this time. A sinking sensation pulled on her gut, unlike the earlier moments. No heat came, leaving her with the chill.

Whatever insanity plaguing her had more than a cock planned.

She fixed her clothes, arranged her expression into one of discomfort and left the room. She passed by her table, where Gretchen continued nursing from an empty glass, out of it beyond her usual level, and explained she didn’t feel well. Gretchen made no sign of knowing she was there, while Ashley and Rachel ushered her home. Rachel stood and hugged her goodbye, promising to see her tomorrow. With that out of the way, Zoey left, a single line of thought prevalent in her mind.

Rachel had been mere inches smaller. Not a foot as she’d always been. But inches.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 13 - A First Step

Zoey kept her head low as she strode through her neighbourhood. A quiet place, one that offered a genial reprieve from Gretchen, home to welcoming families and the elderly. Some occupied their front lawns, trimming the grass and hedges, others remained inside and glimpsed the outside. She didn’t know any of their names, but they smiled and waved nonetheless. The perfect suburban community that everyone craved.

Such a thing didn’t exist. She stepped up to her house, a replica of all those around it, separated by a picket fence and a row of hedges. its number and her parents’ car distinguished it from the others. The athlete took a long breath at the final barrier between her and her sister.

Megan didn’t work, though she fooled their parents into believing otherwise. Her definition of the word was to stay at home and talk to her friends, either bartering for loans to buy stuff or appease their parents. They gave her freedom so long as she put money into the household. A misguided trust that came from her being the oldest and staying out of public trouble.

Which meant Megan could stay and greet Zoey after school every day. Zoey turned the knob, it creaked in protest, alerting her sister to her presence, and entered. She kicked off her sneakers and bounded upstairs, taking them two at a time instead of her usual three. Once on the landing, she rushed to her room. Megan was a bitch, though a far cry from Gretchen’s level, but she respected the sanctity of the bedroom.

Of course, the space outside it was fair game. She poked her head out from her room and saw Zoey. A cruel smirk slithered across her face as she approached. Zoey went to grab her door handle and escape, but Megan beat her to it, despite being the slower of the two. Or she should’ve been.

“Hey, sis. What happened with school? Don’t tell me you’re playing hooky,” Megan patronised. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded beneath her bust to lord them over Zoey.

“I felt sick,” Zoey said, eyes downcast.

“Aww, poor girl. What’s the matter? Was it ‘Gretchen’ again? Did she force you to suck some guy off?” Megan asked, faux-concern expertly grafted onto her features as she bent down to put her face level with Zoey’s.

“What the fuck is happening?” Zoey mumbled, risking a glance up to confirm the insanity before her. She didn’t say anything against Megan’s teasing and groaned at the sinking rush of hot and cold through her body. She didn’t question it, preoccupied with the horrifying reversal staring at her. Zoey outgrew her sister in her freshman year of high school, standing several inches above the woman. Now she had to tilt her head back to meet her eye.

“What was that?” Megan arched an eyebrow, excitement in her eye. Zoey said nothing. If she spoke, Megan would strike, twisting anything she said into a demeaning comment, “Good choice, pipsqueak.” She left then, leaving Zoey to toil in her terror.

The athlete barred herself in her room and fell onto her bed. Her feet once hung off the end, now they rested atop the mattress, a good five inches away from the edge by her estimate. How? She was over six feet tall – six-foot-two to be precise – and now... The mere idea of her new height coiled around her chest and crushed her ribcage, holding it and her organs in a death grip. Her eyes stung.

Why did this happen to her?

She woke up and she’d grown a cock. Her vagina remained in place, unchanged aside from losing her urethra, and she’d looked no different overall. Anyone would agree. Her hair hadn’t grown from its short mess of locks around her face, nor had she gained any weight. If anything, she’d lost a great deal in the past few hours. If her delusion was to be trusted.

It couldn’t, though. Growing a penis from nowhere was one thing, but shrinking was another. Zoey refused to believe she could lose the one advantage she had in life, the soul aspect she appreciated about herself. Now what did she have? A dick so big even Gretchen would refuse it, and balls to match. She glanced to her skirt and focused on the brazen bulge of her crotch.

Her cock and balls squeezed tight within her briefs, trapped by the resilient material. Zoey undid her skirt and slid it down with her underwear, releasing her mismatched genitalia. She sat up and stared at it, frightened and intrigued by what she now wielded, contemplating its appearance as one might appraise the edge of a cliff. Water crashed and swirled at its base, so far down that her heart and gut plummeted at the merest thought of falling. Yet a dangerous thrill tiptoed across her spine, urging her to take the plunge.

Zoey held her pose. Arms limp on her raised knees, with her hands and gaze pointed to the slab of meat. Length aside, it was a monster. Demure veins crept along its shaft, ripe to swell with blood and lust, while its girth shamed her wrist. And it was still soft. Her stomach flopped at the idea of an erection, at the prospect having to hide such a thing.

But she would. She needed to stay in Gretchen’s favour, otherwise she wouldn’t make it through school. Not with the bimbo blonde tormenting her like she would Dakota and Mary. Zoey arched her eyebrow at the thought of her former ‘friends’, though she hadn’t spoken with them any more than she did with Ashley. Both acted strange before they left the group. Mary also had a cock, but she had behaved as though it was unnatural. Did Dakota also have one?

If so, then why now? Zoey grabbed her flaccid length and flopped it upward, staring at the underside, lined by a massive bulge that led down into her heavy balls. Was Mary or Dakota the same size as her? She doubted it. The futa grinned as she traced her fingertip along her staggering member, smitten with the idea of outdoing others in a whole new field as pleasant shards of warmth splintered off into her bloodstream, raced to her head and heart and demanded more. She coiled her fingers around her shaft and stroked.

Few people could dispute her size. She’d never be the same as before; she couldn’t run as fast, couldn’t terrorise others, she couldn’t even reach the touch shelf in the pantry now. No one would distinguish her from the average girl. Not until they saw what lied beneath. Zoey huffed a laugh at the thought of sharing this with someone, revealing to them what still made her unique in this world.

Her grip tightened around her filling prick. Its veins pulsed against her fingers, an echo of her heart, as her blood and desire stretched the skin and swelled the circuit of purple-blue lines. Nerve endings fired off across the length, singing at her touch after waiting hours. Her fingers spread apart, further by the moment, and traversed the dwarfing majesty of her cock. She moaned and slouched back into her pillows.

Zoey gawked at herself. Her penis extended from her crotch and reached for the skies, proud in its grandeur and mocking the height she’d lost. She slowed and stacked her hands atop each other from its base, rising until she reached the spongy crown. Fire flickered beneath her skin, its embers latched onto her nerves and consumed all else, lighting up her sense of pleasure against the darkness of her fears. She could forget it all, if only for a moment.

A moment alone with her massive cock. Every inch of its overwhelming girth, wreathed in veins and her fingers, stretched at least eight hand lengths from her crotch to tower above her. Zoey’s life as she’d known it was at an end, replaced by a new one devoted to hiding this thing from other’s knowledge, but, in return, she could take solace in knowing no one, not even Gretchen, would be in the presence of a cock such as this. That was enough for her.

No, it’s not. Zoey argued against herself. She slowed her strokes to a subtle climb across her rigid length, steadfast against the sensations that pervaded her shaft, and let go. It twitched and throbbed in silent protest, yet incapable of swaying her to take hold once more. Zoey turned onto her side and gripped her pillows instead. How could she even think of masturbating with the thing that, far as she knew, was responsible for such a massive upheaval in her life?

“I’m losing my mind,” she muttered. First Dakota left the group, then Mary, now Gretchen had it out for Carmen, and, to pile atop the slew of changes, Zoey had a dick. Just like Mary. She grabbed her cracked phone, scrolled through her contacts and found Zoey’s number, where her thumb lingered. What would the former queen bee say to her?

‘Oh, you got a dick too? That’s nice, freak!’ Zoey wouldn’t be surprised. Mary had no reason to help her anyway, not after Zoey said nothing at the sleepover. Or after what she did just two days ago. But who else could she turn to?

Her thumb tapped the screen and waited.

‘The number you have called is not in service…’

“Oh yeah, she got a new phone,” Zoey said and set the device down. They had never shared emails or Twitter or Facebook or any other form of contact. She could find her on the last two, though she doubted Mary would remember her without a voice or picture. And the blonde wasn’t as sociable anymore.

She’d have to wait until school, and for Gretchen to let her leave, before she found Mary. Or Carmen. She could also help. Probably. Smart, kind and understanding... Zoey failed to see a reason that she couldn’t. And she’s beautiful, the futa added. Her cock jerked at the thought of the honour student.

Life truly is unfair to give someone brains and beauty in spades, while leaving the rest to hang. Zoey glanced down at new, diminutive self. By her estimate, she stood on par with Rachel, perhaps an inch or two taller. Everyone would tower over her as she did to them yesterday. Her use was at an end. Gretchen had wanted her around for her height and build. She retained her physique, muscle focused in her thighs and abs, but nothing else.

No one said a thing earlier. Even Rachel had been quiet, out of respect or confusion. She didn’t know. Megan, obnoxious and unfeeling though she was, would have noticed. Only a blind person could fail to see. This wasn’t genetics then, Zoey rationalised. A widespread delusion, perhaps, but one that afflicted everyone who knew her seemed unlikely, impossible even. Maybe they thought she was still six feet tall? No, Megan had looked down at her.

Tomorrow would determine the truth. In the meantime, Zoey studied herself in detail. Her height, though far below her norm, was better off than she thought. She compared her eyeline to the usual view of the bathroom mirror, deciding she’d lost just over half a foot, maybe seven inches if her estimates were correct. Five-foot-four. A hint below average, though nothing to dread. She still stood above Rachel.

Oh god, Rachel. Zoey sank to the toilet and hung her head. She was naked, determined to watch for more ostentatious changes, none made themselves known however, so it was possible her nightmare was at an end. Slender and toned, her body looked honed as ever. Better, even. Being so much shorter, her arms appeared thicker, better equipped to defend herself, and the same held true for her legs. The source of her meagre pride remained such.

Thick, soft-toned thighs sank gracefully into her calves and down into her ankles. Zoey grinned at the slight reprieve from her consistent insanity, glad she could find some solace in her mutated figure. Above her legs, she traced a fingertip across the light definition of her abs, then up between her petite breasts. They hadn’t changed, now suited to her form.

“Always a silver-lining.” Zoey’s smile dissipated, replaced once more by her anticipation for tomorrow, a time shrouded in fog denser than what she saw in classic horror movies. Almost every day since high school started was the same. Wake up, dread the day, suffer the day, go home, suffer some more. Then she went to bed to relive it all again.

Past experience meant nothing anymore. She could wake up the next morning and everyone could know what she’d become. Gretchen could be her enemy, a prospect she wished didn’t loom over her minute by minute, and Rachel might hate her. If so, then what options did she have? Zoey pulled her knees against her chest and hugged them close, with her eyes downcast yet again, she stared at the cock. Two people, three at most, would understand her situation. Though one could turn on her.

Sunset turned to night and darkness dwindled against the ball of gas as it rose, banishing the moon to the opposite end of the earth and illuminating Zoey’s sleepless eyes in its glow. She laid in her bed, on her back with the covers and her pants tossed aside, leaving her morning wood at attention, as if waiting for the sunlight to bathe it. Sheets creased under her clenched fingers, while her body throbbed in longing. Even so, her shrunken arms remained at her sides.

She refused to touch herself. Doing so gave the delusion credit, made everything real. It was, of course, but if she paid it no attention then she could imagine otherwise, pretend that the day wouldn’t be a hellish ordeal. Her cock jerked and slapped against her belly, leaving behind a smidge of pre-cum. How men handled these things, she would never understand. She hadn’t dreamed of anything sexual. From what she could recall.

Anxiety didn’t temper her erection at all, regardless of how the emotion roared in her ears. It parroted her heart, banging on her ribcage and churning her stomach into a sordid mess. New days represent new beginnings in stories, though true for her, it was torment not relief. Unknowable factors spiralled around her head, swirling and falling into the pit of her fear.

“Stop,” Zoey told herself, as she had several times between her sporadic attempts at sleep. She wanted to run. A short jog or sprint would help. Her problems couldn’t keep up when she ran. That was before her body shrank, though.

Zoey stood and left her room. Her parents were awake, shuffling about downstairs as they tried to wake up for work, while Megan slept on, as she would for another hour at least. Any time before seven for the moocher was much too early. The diminished athlete moved to the bathroom and went through her morning ritual. She peed sitting down again, afraid to grow comfortable with her new abnormality.

It might still vanish. She hoped, prayed, that it would.

Teeth brushed, bladder emptied and her erection gone, Zoey pulled a set of baggy shorts on. They fit her waist as perfect as ever, having shrunk with her it seemed, as had everything else in her wardrobe. Whatever magic did this to her, it was thorough. Unfortunately, their crotch still bulged with her member. She added a set of briefs, keeping her balls and shaft close to her body. The shape persisted, but it hardly showed now. If someone looked they’d see it.

“Okay… okay, this is fine. It’s fine. Gonna be fine,” Zoey said. She breathed deep, calming the rampant onslaught of her heart. It thundered in the background, like a nearby storm that could either float away, or bellow overhead and drown her in dread. The direction hinged on how her parents reacted.

Downstairs, Zoey slid into a chair. Her mother had her back turned, her dad busied himself with checking his tie. He ran a local sportswear store, one with the potential to become a chain, and carried himself as such. A loose suit, one designed to give a sophisticated air, but his trousers and jacket allowed for freedom of movement. He once had his sights on becoming a tennis pro, an injured knee robbed him of the dream though. Regret sometimes dimmed his optimistic eyes.

Her mother had a part-time position at a care home. Zoey’s grandmother had stayed there before she passed, as such it held a special place for the middle-aged woman. Both her parents had aged with pride. A spot of grey in her dad’s hair, a few wrinkles of maturity for her mom, though neither seemed perturbed by it as others might. She envied them.

“Hey, sweetie,” her mom yawned. The woman shot a glance to her husband, who returned the favour. Zoey hadn’t heard anything last night, though the shared look told her all that they’d be doing. She said nothing. They had every right in their own house, no matter how it embarrassed her. A familiar streak of hot and cold coursed through her.

“Morning,” Zoey looked elsewhere, keen not to be reminded of her family’s sex life. The kitchen had a barbeque theme, its cupboards and cookers painted charcoal with faint embers smouldering underneath. The floor had a tiled pattern and gave the illusion of a patio. Even the scent of a barbeque filtered in amongst the coffee and fruits. A fruit bowl sat at the centre of a foldable table. Zoey took an apple from the bowl.

“Why’re you up so early?” Her dad asked.

Zoey shrugged, “Felt like it, I guess.”

“You’re not trying to avoid Megan, are you?” Her mom inquired.


“I wish you two would get along,” her dad shook his head.

“If she stopped bullying me,” Zoey muttered.

“It’s just how it is for an older sister. She’ll grow out of it,” her mom said.

“Yeah. Right.” Zoey bit into her apple and drifted into silence. They’d been saying the same thing since Megan was fifteen. Worse than that, her parents, the people closest to her, didn’t say a thing about her height. How far did this go?

An hour later and Megan descended the stairs. She offered their parents a quick morning kiss, innocent enough, but offset by her skimpy underwear, and sat beside Zoey. The elder sibling puffed her chest out and straightened her back, lording her additional inches over the smaller girl. Zoey glared at her from the corner of her eye.

“How’s my little sister today?” Megan asked.

“Fine,” Zoey said.

“Don’t need any help reaching the bottom shelf?”


“Megan, don’t tease her,” their mother said.

“I’m just being mindful of her needs,” Megan said, leering down at her sister.

“I’m short, not disabled.”

“Wanna change that?” Megan asked under her breath, leaning down to flash a malevolent grin at Zoey, who shied away and lowered her gaze. Warmth rose and sank within her yet again, as it had since yesterday morning. Why? She focused on the leg of her shorts, brow creased into deep wrinkles. They looked longer than she recalled, and her bulged might’ve been larger too.

She stood and headed back upstairs. On her way, she passed a set of plaques dedicated to her and Megan’s sole shining achievements in school, both attained during the second grade for a silly Spelling Bee that was more a raffle than a contest. Zoey thought, as a child, she and Megan might bond over the fact they shared this minor victory. Megan, instead, shattered the illusion.

For all their differences, the two shared two things. For one, they were never the bright ones. Zoey frequently found herself in the lower end of her classes during exams, as had her sibling, but neither were stupid. Slow suited them better. Given enough time and motivation, Zoey could solve close to any problem a more successful student could. She worked at her own pace, though, a trait she and Megan also shared.

If not for her athleticism, Zoey might’ve coasted by her school life without any outstanding accomplishments. That said, she owned no trophies for her races, not even a bronze medal. The other racers, while slower than her, possessed something faster than she could run; confidence. For every grain that she wielded, her competitors oozed it entire gallons of the stuff. Even those without talent to back it up.

Zoey’s teeth clenched together. Her defeat a few months ago had made it clearer than ever, how little her self-worth reached. She was in second place, poised to take the first, for once in her life she could run faster than the intimidation around her. Then the leader turned and glared at her. A second, less even, and her will shattered and disintegrated to dust. It flew back on the heels of the inferior runner and stung her eyes. A pain that threatened to return.

She had a race next week. Nothing competitive, a mere warmup for the real event in the summer. What could she do there? A bitter laugh almost broke free as she shut her bedroom door, which now loomed over her. Speed only went so far against physical talent. The others would have a foot or more on her, carrying them further and further away while her tiny legs scurried to catch up.

She would be left choking on their dust. Rachel would comfort her, Gretchen would mock her and the track team would curse letting her be their captain. Was she still the captain? Zoey fell to her toned rear and pulled her knees close, ignoring how it crushed her cock. What kind of a life did she have now?

A different one. For all she knew, her reputation as Gretchen’s muscle was gone, replaced by a separate circle of friends who shared her disdain for the girl. Rachel could be there too, as more than a friend. Zoey’s lips tilted into a terse grin, born of hope and terror. If her clothes had changed and her family didn’t notice the shift in her height, then she couldn’t fathom what else had occurred. Perhaps she was with Carmen’s group now, one of the ‘Freaky Dy-keys’ – as Gretchen referred to them. She could, probably, handle everything if Carmen helped her out.

Zoey’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. Why was she fixated on Carmen? The girl was kind and beautiful, but they didn’t know each other. No more than they did from the single conversation they’d had. Because Carmen didn’t submit to Gretchen like everyone else did, because she had Dakota and Mary who Zoey was already familiar with, or was it a crush?

“Don’t think, don’t think. Just don’t think,” Zoey repeated under her breath. Thought was her immediate enemy. If she gave it an edge, her anxiety would flare once again and feed her foe, empowering it. She pulled on her shirt, tight as ever to highlight her meagre bust, and fretted over her skirt. It hung an inch above her knee.

For the average man, such a length would be suitable. Not for her. She pulled her underwear to the side and let her cock flop free. A quick check confirmed that it fell past the hem of her skirt. One accident and her secret was out. Zoey added a pair of shorts to the equation. They were designed for track and clung tight to her body, akin to a second layer of skin. Her cock wouldn’t slip out from them, though her bulge presented another issue.

No matter how she positioned her member, her balls forced it outward. They protruded against her skirt, enough that a keen eye would spot the shape with ease. She couldn’t squeeze them between her thighs, nor were they loose enough to pull behind her.

“Great,” Zoey said and ruffled the garment, creasing it to hide the bulge. Her only hope was to pray that no one looked too closely. And if they did, if someone confronted her about it, what then? “Not thinking right now. Get ready and leave. Get ready and leave. One thing at a time. Not thinking.” Zoey offered a silent prayer of thanks to her middle school coach for teaching her meditation. She shut out her unnecessary thoughts as best she could, though several cracks splintered her defences. It would suffice.

If nothing else, she could make it to school without succumbing to the desires and fear that roiled below the surface. Zoey left with a brisk goodbye to her parents and sister, hasty to avoid further torment at Megan’s hand. She paused on the doorstep and looked around at her neighbourhood, a familiar sight, yet forever changed. Things she could once reach taunted her, they hung overhead or hovered out of arm’s reach. One of her neighbours had their Great Dane out for a walk.

On its hind legs it had matched Zoey’s height, now it would crush her. As could so many things. She shook the thoughts loose. Most girls dealt with being this height, so why couldn’t she?

The walk took longer than usual. Though, she was no more tired than normal, her body fit as ever. Zoey’s cock remained tight against her body, inconspicuous against the ruffles of her skirt. For the meantime. She didn’t doddle at the school entrance and made her way inside, ignoring how the school building seemed to tower and blot out the sky itself, intent on finding Mary or Carmen. Either would do.

She needed someone she could talk to. Someone with whom she had already burned the bridges, whose opinion of her couldn’t be any worse or better. Mary felt nothing for her but contempt, and Carmen didn’t know her. Neither would tell Gretchen a thing. Ideal candidates.

She had half an hour until classes started and she was forced out by Gretchen. A time she would spend running, savouring the brief moment of freedom, before her leash was tugged and she was forced back into the kennel, released only to bark and snarl. Two days ago, she was Gretchen Pitbull, vicious by reputation. Now what could she be called? A Papillon?

No, she wasn’t cute enough to be called a dog anymore. People still avoided her. Perhaps a pint-sized troll or a goblin? Something small and vicious and ugly, under the guise of a regular girl, albeit one with a huge dick. Zoey bit her tongue, a silent chastisement for letting herself think like that. She should focus on finding Carmen or Mary, nothing else.

Her progress stammered as someone bumped into her. They turned and sneered at her. She recognised them as one of Gretchen’s more recent targets.

“Watch where you’re going midget.”

“Shut up,” Zoey snapped on reflex, so caught in her search that she didn’t process what she’d said, nor the strange sense of pride that sparked within her stomach, until moments after and the other girl had left. She shook off the pause and resumed her search. Rounding a corner, she froze once more, this time face to face with Carmen Robins. Rather, she came face to chest with the statuesque girl.

By Zoey’s estimate, the girl was tall as she had been and far curvier. Carmen’s dark blonde hair fell about her face, long and smooth yet natural, and down to her strained shirt around a voluminous chest. Slight rips dotted her top, its once vibrant red colour faded to a dull maroon tone. Only her skirt remained undamaged, though it was too small and bared entire feet of her legs, leading to the tops of her frayed socks and worn-out shoes. Yet her clothes did nothing but accentuate her face and figure.

Zoey met the honour student’s eyes and saw them widen in recognition and shock. The shrunken futa stepped back, mind working fast to understand the reason for such a look. Carmen recovered before she could, assuming an expressionless mask as she walked by.

“Uh, wait. Please?” Zoey asked, reaching out to grab the girl’s sleeve.

“What?” Carmen turned, as did Mary and Dakota. Zoey glanced to them, catching Mary’s eye and looking down to her own skirt. A frown wrinkled the former queen bee’s forehead.

“Um, I… I need to talk to you. If that’s okay?” Zoey said.


“Something private.”

“Will it be quick?”

“I, uh… maybe?”

“Fine,” Carmen sighed with a glance at the nearest clock, “Twenty minutes.”

“We’ll catch you later, Carmen,” Dakota said and left, with Mary close behind. The pair glanced back. Ashley and Rachel would do the same when Gretchen walked away on her own, though they looked back not to make sure she didn’t change her mind, but out of concern for another. Or that was how Zoey interpreted it. Perhaps they had noticed something about her, something unfeminine?

They continued down the hallway and turned a corner. Zoey heaved a deep sigh. Safe. For now.

“So,” Carmen began. She leaned against the wall, folded her arms and cast an observant eye across the tan girl, “What is it?”

“I-I don’t know how to say it,” Zoey said. She was sure of what she should do, but not of after she did it. A million scenarios pranced through her thoughts, how this interaction might go, of the horrified reaction Carmen would give, or perhaps how someone might stumble upon, and eavesdrop on the conversation. Gretchen would hear of her secret if that happened.

“You look so tiny,” Carmen muttered, chin titled up.


“You look scared,” Carmen amended, “Like I’m gonna hit you or something.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head.

Carmen dropped her arms and the girl flinched, “Sure you’re not. You realise you’re gonna get stomped on for the rest of your life like this. Right?”

Zoey said nothing. She hung her head and hugged her arms close to her torso.

“I’m not trying to be mean. Honest.”

“I know you’re not,” Zoey said.

“But you look scared,” Carmen repeated, “Did something happen?”

“Too much,” Zoey raised her head. Her eyes lingered on Carmen’s bust, every inch concealed yet on blatant display. A low throb of desire forced Zoey to tug at her skirt. Carmen’s gaze followed the motion, as if understanding precisely why she did it.

“I should go,” Carmen said, “Word is that we’ve got a sub today. Might actually learn something.”


“Before that,” the honour student grabbed Zoey’s hand, the one holding the hem of her skirt, “Don’t let anyone frighten you. If they do, make it stop. Do that, and I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

“What?” Zoey gasped. Her hand was released. She turned as Carmen walked away, hips swaying in an awkward, yet hypnotic pattern, as though she wasn’t used to it. Did she steal Zoey’s height? No, the athlete shook her head. Ridiculous. Why would she? And Carmen had always been that tall, in freshman year Zoey recalled seeing her. She’d wanted to befriend the other giant, but never worked up the courage.

“Okay,” Zoey thought aloud, “Not gonna get scared anymore. Right. Easy.”

“Hey, Zoey?” Rachel said from behind her.

“Fuck!” Zoey shouted.

“Did I scare you?” Rachel giggled.


“I totally did,” Rachel said, teeth bared in a proud smirk, “Who were you talking to anyway?”

“No one. Just me,” Zoey said.

“Right,” Rachel’s eyes thinned in suspicion, then she shrugged, “Whatever. Gretchen said we’re going shopping. Wants us to carry her shit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Zoey groaned. Carmen’s words played over in her head, though enacting was far easier said than done.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 14 - A Taste of Desire

Carmen glanced back around the corner, watching Zoey leave the short redhead of Gretchen’s group. Rachel, if she recalled. They were of equivocal height, though the tanned girl still retained a couple of inches on her friend. How long would that last? She resumed her path to the classroom, doubtful that she could help more than she already had, not without telling Zoey the truth. Dread oozed from the idea of someone discovering what she had done.

As per usual, Carmen stepped into the horrid excuse for a classroom. Desks sat in three columns and four rows, crowding the space not allowed for the teacher to move. It was fortunate that most girls at Saint Puella had average builds, otherwise they might be trapped between desks. Facing them all, was the teacher’s once ornate, now vandalised desk, above which a chipped and dusty whiteboard hung. Carmen ignored them and the ominous creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet and took her usual seat beside a window.

Dakota sat to her right. The half-German had turned a new leaf in the recent months. Her lackadaisical nature vanished, leaving in its place an above average student, ready to learn and enrich her life. It was a shame she must do so in Saint Puella. Carmen glanced at her friend, who had a new notebook sat out before her. Silver patterns decorated the covers and framed her name.

She glanced to her vacant desk. Her bag laid against its inner leg, deflated save for the Futa Note and a mandatory pen, there in case she stumbled upon another notebook, ideally one without lewd and world conquering powers. For the meantime, she would rely on Dakota and her own brain to note anything of interest. They had a substitute today, so the chances were increased, but slim nonetheless.

The teacher entered minutes after Carmen. He was a scruffy gentleman, with a worn suit that looked better suited for the dead and a dishevelled beard, which compensated for the greasy dome of his head. Carmen grimaced at the sight of him and turned her head away. Why she thought Ms. Blake would spend the time and money on a decent sub was beyond her.

Her gaze lingered on the outside world. With Winter at an end, the sparse trees dotted across the school grounds slowly flourished once more, as did the patches of grass. A new beginning for nature, yet her life remained the same. If not worse.

No. Carmen dismissed the notion. What Gretchen did was horrible, enough that her anger seethed at the mere image of her, but silver linings existed in everything, so long as she looked hard enough. This time, all it took was a name; Stacy. Carmen both adored and hated the warmth that name brought her.

Adored, for it dispelled the despair of sitting in a class of strangers. Hated, for the desire it fuelled. Her legs pressed together, concealing her panties from view. Her arousal had become bolder of late, rearing its seductive head to seep from her pussy and swell her tender clit, and pushing upon her the visage of her newfound friends, unrequited guest and girlfriend at even the slightest moment of frailty. Carmen sighed and laid her chin in her palm at the thought of Stacy.

She didn’t have work yesterday. Today would be the first time seeing the bountiful coffee lover since their date, since they’d come close to breaking every code of employee-employer conduct, since she’d caught a glimpse of heaven in those ripe, milky tits. She latched her spare arm to the side of her desk. Carmen bit her bottom lip, hoping to absolve her urges through pain.

Why did life have to be so complex? She wondered, staring down toward the simplistic Earth below, though she supposed all lifeforms were the same in one way or another. They all sought nutrients in the easiest, most plentiful way. It was humans, however, that had to complicate such a simple matter. If she was a dog, she could be adopted into a loving home, fed without her own concerns and petted at any moment. Or if she was a cat, she would wonder between homes and feed off their kindness.

Of course, her solution stayed with her always. Locked away behind a Velcro seal in a tattered bag, it exuded temptation, black tendrils made of smoke and ash writhed within, eager to be released and slither into Carmen’s thoughts. Even trapped, wisps of their forms floated into her. Carmen glanced to the substitute teacher. Please let him have something of interest. Anything to distract her. To cull her thoughts of surrender.

He had nothing. Just another bumbling fool who stammered and muttered his way through a haphazard lesson plan left behind. She could fix that. Make him a futa with a respectable job, IQ and hygiene. Who would care?

She would. Carmen’s grip turned fatal, imprinting her grasp into the withered desk. To her side, Dakota glance over in worry.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Yes,” Carmen said, monotone in her focus. It was harder than ever since she’d turned Zoey, worse than yesterday even, as if her caged frustrations and temptations had begun to overflow from their prison. She wanted Stacy. She wanted to transform someone. She wanted relief.

“Hey,” Dakota reached over and took her whitened hand, “It’ll be okay.”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking about,” Carmen said.

“No, but I know you’re stressed. I could help? Not like that, obviously. Unless you want to?”

“No,” Carmen shook her head. A grin crept onto her face. What Dakota lacked in independency, she made up for in observation.

“Worth a shot. Anyway, I did some massage classes back in middle school. I could give you a shoulder rub,” Dakota offered.

“That… actually, that sounds great,” Carmen said. She relaxed her grip, grateful for the distraction.

“And I’m more than happy to give happy endings,” Dakota added with an unsubtle wink.

“On second thought…” Carmen trailed off.

“I was joking,” Dakota chuckled, “Well, not really. The offer’s always there.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Carmen said, “Thanks, Dakota.”

“No problem,” the tanned futa leaned back in her chair and reclaimed her hand. Her arms fell lax at her side, unperturbed by any worries, “It’s what friends are for.”

Carmen did the same. She let her arms hang loose, no tension or restraint, and sat there. Had she ever done this before, laid back without an iota of consideration for the class at hand? It was oddly liberating, though it couldn’t last. Once she’d replaced her books, she would make up for lost time. Finals were only a few months away, even the sole straight-A student couldn’t afford to relax for too long. Tragedies did happen after all.

Loud shouts carried up to her ears from outside. P.E? No, they usually had indoor classes that day. She righted her posture and checked out the window. Gretchen stepped into view, carrying Zoey underarm while Ashley assisted with her legs. The athlete, once so tall she could at least avoid physical torture, did nothing to resist. She was immobile as the corroded, iron gates they passed through.

“Great,” Carmen muttered under her breath and shook her head.

Zoey never returned to school that day. A usual occurrence, according to Mary and Dakota. They often left the school and hung out at the mall, or went home, depending on what Mary or Gretchen wanted to do, only returning if a mandatory assembly took place, something that had become increasingly rare in the recent years.

“Sometimes, you’d basically hold us hostage for days,” Dakota laughed. They sat in the cafeteria. Without Gretchen around, few people cared to bother the three. Those that did looked to get into Gretchen’s inner circle, or were young and impressionable, acting as the popular girl did to gain points with others. Carmen ignored them with ease; she’d dealt with the same type throughout most of her school years. And worse during middle school.

“I did not,” Mary defended, though her cheeks were flushed, “I mean, sort of. It was Gretchen’s idea.”

“No. Binging on booze and weed was her idea. Yours was to hang out until we ran out of clean clothes to wear. And that was only because you wouldn’t lend us yours.”

“At least we had fun, right?”

“You did.”

“I did?” Mary blinked and frowned, “Honestly, I can’t remember what I did.”

“Well, I could tell you…” Dakota trailed off and shovelled lumpy mash potatoes into her mouth.

“Oh god,” Mary hung her head, “Let’s never bring this up again. Okay?”

“Sure. But you gotta do me a favour later.”


Carmen sat in silence, observing the two. Under a year ago, she would have dismissed any notion of them spending time together, much less doing so amicably. Would Zoey be her friend too? The Futa Note claimed the afflicted would become infatuated with Carmen, and she had no reason to doubt it after Dakota and Mary. Both propositioned her on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.

If not for the potential of sleeping with Stacy, Carmen might’ve relented. She chased the thoughts away, replacing them with dissecting her overcooked pork chop, while devoting her attention to her friends. Such a strange word for the people she had forever altered. Victims seemed too harsh, given their new demeanours compared to before. Mary, in particular.

She looked no different than before, except her natural brunette roots were showing. Her tanned skin remained a lighter shade than Dakota’s, giving her an even bronze colour across her augmented figure. A very different treat to Dakota’s underused, athletic figure.

“Want a better view?” Mary asked.

“Hmm? What?” Carmen blinked from her reverie. She’d been staring. Again.

“I could give you a private look sometime,” Mary continued, running a hand down her low-cut shirt, between the valley of her implants and down to her mini-skirt. The school only demanded that students wear a skirt with their insignia on it, regardless of length or material. Even so, Mary pushed it to the extreme. Her garment barely hid her cock, now strapped against her thigh. She couldn’t use underwear anymore either. Not after what Carmen had done to her.

“Or maybe a real show,” Dakota interjected, “I’m not opposed to a threesome.”

“Weren’t you gonna give me a shoulder rub?” Carmen hastily inquired.

“Oh, yeah. Hold still, this’ll feel great. Promise.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll be your doll for a day or something. You can brush my hair, touch me anywhere,” Dakota sang.

“Careful, I might just accept,” Carmen warned, though her grin said otherwise.

“True. Mary would work better anyway. She’s got more plastic than I do,” Dakota snickered.

“I… yeah, that’s fair,” Mary sighed and poked at her breast, “I’ve been thinking about going up a size or two, actually.”

“Seriously?” Carmen arched an eyebrow. She compared her own, magically augmented bust to Mary’s, who still retained the advantage in sheer size.

“Don’t you think you’re big enough?” Dakota echoed her thought.

“I do. And don’t,” Mary said, “Forget I said anything.”

“I don’t mind if you want bigger boobs, but it just seems excessive,” Carmen said.

“They already are,” Dakota added, “Besides, if anyone could do with some, it’s me.”

“Yours are fine, Dakota,” Carmen said, glancing to the average but pert mounds behind her.

“It won’t happen for ages, anyway. I don’t have that kind of money anymore,” Mary shook her head, “Anyway, tell me about your boss.”

“What?” Carmen blinked, then sighed as Dakota’s hand dug into a tense muscle, relaxing it. She was good.

“Your boss. You know, the one you had that date with.”

“I thought we agreed not to harp on it,” Carmen groaned.

“I just want to know more about her. Maybe take a shot if it doesn’t work out for you,” Mary grinned.

“She’s nice,” Carmen relented, “Relaxed, optimistic, caring, hard-working… and she likes me.”

“You make it sound like no one else does,” Dakota said.

“I mean, she doesn’t care what I am,” Carmen elaborated, though her own thoughts wanted to know more. What was she?

“I know plenty of lesbians,” Mary said, “I could’ve hooked you up.”

“Not like that. It’s hard to explain,” Carmen said, all while trying to figure out what it was she wanted to explain to herself. Was it the homosexual part? Yes, but it wasn’t the core of it. Stacy knew nothing of the Futa Note, so she couldn’t accept what Carmen had done with it. It’s not that complicated, Carmen realised. She wanted to laugh at herself for overthinking everything.

“She doesn’t want anything from me,” Carmen finished.

“That wasn’t hard to explain,” Mary pointed out.

“I lied,” Carmen chuckled. Yes, Stacy didn’t want her to be something, she loved her for how she was. Ryuka wanted her to be a sexual deviant with untold power. Dakota and Mary wanted her to sleep with them all the time. Her mother wanted her to be better and to be the perfect big sister to Melody, who wanted her to be a superhero. Carmen, herself, wanted to prove herself better than anyone else. Stacy would embrace her and kiss her and talk with her regardless of how she changed.

Dakota and Mary fell silent, their own faces infected by Carmen’s relief. Introspection wasn’t her strongest point. She could work backwards from any math problem, or dive deep into an author’s intent from a single line, but she steered clear of her own mind, certain it contained nothing but fear and stress. Recognising such pressure, and the reason she adored Stacy above all others, was freeing.

Carmen leaned back into Dakota’s hands. Occasional insults were hurled at them from across the cafeteria, yet their words were dampened by Carmen’s liberation, slight though it was. Perhaps the inner machinations of her mind weren’t simply a trap for negativity, or that wasn’t its sole purpose to her. But she wouldn’t take the risk. A single beacon of light found amidst a galaxy of darkness didn’t inspire hope.

Though that lonely speck still warmed her. She looked on as Mary and Dakota chatted between each other, leaving her to enjoy the shoulder rub and minor breakthrough. The blonde might’ve had a point about her breasts. Carmen thought and pictured the two obtrusive orbs at a couple of sizes bigger, to the point that the shirt she wore barely clung to the bottom curves. Perhaps something extra for Dakota too? She twisted her head around to observe her friend’s chest, wondering if a few extra inches would suit her.

It would easy to give them what they wanted. Two minutes and a couple of lines at worst. Neither would think anything of it. Or they could. She could tell them about the book, relieve the burden and let them help control her temptation. No, she decided.

Carmen breathed deep and pushed the thoughts from her mind, including the speck of warmth. Her doubts and desires receded back to their cage, locked deep in her subconscious, away from the light of day. If she relaxed, they would break free and tempt her worse than they already did. This was her life now, or until she found success and could ignore the book. Six years, minimum.

Simple. She’d spent the last eight years in solace, away from her classmates and those who could be her friends, studying and working to make life easier on her family. If it is for Melody, and their mother’s sake, then she would succeed. Ryuka could haunt her, the book could tempt her, and her body could change in any manner. All were secondary. So long as she had a goal in mind, she wouldn’t falter.

Fed, resolute and shoulders loose, she returned to classes with her small entourage. Lessons passed with her studying the outside world, taking mental notes on whatever might interest her, such as the pair of squirrels sprinting and hopping through the grounds, finding and burying nuts for the encroaching winter. Or on the group of girls stepping back onto campus. Gretchen and her girls.

Carmen’s eye found Zoey in an instant, not because she once again stood over the others, but rather she trudged behind Rachel, now the taller of the pair. Annoyance itched across Carmen’s skin at the sight, it crackled in her mind and tensed her loosened muscles. Zoey was at her limit. The girl’s skirt bulged obtusely with her cock, though it managed to blend into the other folds so the others hadn’t noticed. Worst of all, though, was her expression. She looked fit to jump at the crunch of a leaf.

The group moved from her sight as a crackly jingle sounded – the cheap replacement for the school bell. Carmen glanced to the clock atop the whiteboard. They still had an hour until classes ended, meaning it was a rare announcement from Ms. Blake.

“Attention students, I’ve received reports of bullying going on in school grounds, as such, there will be a mandatory assembly on the subject. You are excused from your classes. As said, this is mandatory. Failure to attend will result in detention. That is all.”

The assembly hall doubled as the gymnasium. Rows upon rows of cheap, plastic chairs occupied the space and faced a simple stage, one that hadn’t seen a school play or talent show since before Carmen entered the school. Teachers leaned against the walls, chatting amidst themselves. Principal Blake stood on the stage, microphone in front of her. A set of speakers hung on either side of her.

She looked tired. Strands of her greying hair escaped the tight ponytail at the back to hang before her haggard eyes, and her shoulders slumped as if the strength to keep them up had left her. Gretchen sat in the front row, cell phone out in blatant disregard for her behaviour as her mother began the assembly. Someone attempted to bring this to Ms. Blake’s attention, only to be reprimanded for it. She couldn’t have anyone badmouthing her daughter. Truth or not.

Carmen paid scarce attention. She’d heard these many times before, some of which she had instigated in middle school. They didn’t work. She didn’t know of one that had. Instead, she focused on the glimpse of Zoey at the front row. Rachel sat beside her, leaning in protectively. It made sense, as she wasn’t the smaller one now.

An hour later, Ms. Blake’s presentation came to its end, “Don’t be helpless. That’s all I can say. If you present yourself as weak, then you’ll believe it before long. Even if you’re stronger than the bully, even if you can do something about it, if you play the victim, you become the victim. Thank you. You may go home early.”

For once, the principal had made a reasonable point.

Carmen waited at the school gates. She spotted Zoey approaching, separate from Gretchen and the others, who loitered in the gym. Mary and Dakota had left, as had most of the other students. The diminished athlete came to a stop at the gates. She was tiny, face no higher than Carmen’s chest. If something didn’t spark resistance in her, then she’d stay that way, forever at Gretchen’s foot. Or someone else’s, someone worse.

“What happened?” Carmen asked, nodding to the gym and, by extension, Gretchen. They remained inside with another girl, the one who had likely caused the assembly.

“Nothing,” Zoey shook her head.

“Don’t,” Carmen said, “Just don’t. You heard the principal, didn’t you?”


“Then stop acting like the victim. She’s not gonna stop,” Carmen took the diminutive girl’s shoulders in her hands, “At this rate, you’re gonna be treated like a worthless freak your whole life. Is that what you want?” Silence. Carmen raised her voice. “Well?”

“No!” Zoey shouted back, “I hate it, okay?”

“Hate what?” Carmen pressed, “Standing up for yourself?”

“I hate being like this,” Zoey said.

“What was that, bitch?” Carmen snarled, silently cringing at the insult.

“I hate it!” Zoey all but shrieked, bronzed features a burning shade as she did so. Her head raised an inch up Carmen’s body.

The honour student grinned, “Finally.”

“What?” Zoey blinked and looked up.

“Do that more,” Carmen said.

“But it’s terrifying.”

“All the more reason to do it. Trust me, you’ll feel better after a while,” Carmen said.

“I… I suppose so.”

“Good luck.”

“Wait! Uh, how… how did you know?” Zoey asked.

“Know what?”

“About my… never mind. Thanks.”

Carmen walked around a corner and leaned against the school fence. The outside air reeked of car fumes or other students perfumes, yet she inhaled deeply to soothe her anxious heart. She was glad it didn’t take much to get Zoey to open up, though she suspected the outburst had been building for years. Now if Zoey could say such a thing to Gretchen, she would gain some confidence. Carmen exhaled and resumed her walk. She could worry about it later. For now, she needed some confidence herself.

Soothe the Soul hadn’t changed in the day since she was last there. The same three tables, potential stalker woman, and counter occupied the space. Motivational posters dotted the walls, and beyond the counter, walking down the narrow corridor between the front and back of house, was the sole thing that had changed; Stacy. Her body remained as bountiful, and her demeanour as cheerful as ever. It was Carmen’s perception that had been altered.

“Oh! Carmen, I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour at least,” Stacy said, waving for her to come in, “I won’t complain though.”

“Hey, Stacy,” Carmen said as she stepped behind the counter. Her usual green apron hung beside a shelf filled with all manner of sealed confections. A lump protruded from the breast pocket. She frowned and reached in, finding a slip of paper that read ‘take a break in an hour and come to my office’. Stacy was preoccupied with making the coffee.

Moments after she was prepared, a constant stream of suited customers poured in. It was Thursday, a popular time for business people to hunt for coffee to survive until tomorrow, though she noticed more than usual. The reason became obvious as the men leered at her chest. Even dressed in a tattered shirt several sizes too large, her breasts stretched it well. She ignored them and performed autonomously. Her mind was too engrossed in the potential implications of Stacy’s note.

The coffee lover didn’t seem any different as she strode to and fro, serving or chatting as necessary. Carmen cast frequent, covert glances at her, checking for any indication of her plan, yet saw nothing. Paranoia wormed its way into her mind, terrified of what might be to come. Perhaps she had realised how wrong dating her employee was, or that she couldn’t afford to keep her on. Sexual ideas flitted through but were crushed beneath the fear.

“You okay?” Stacy asked.

Carmen jolted, “Huh? Yeah, sorry. In my own world, I guess?”

“I know what you mean,” Stacy sighed and brushed past. As she did, Carmen felt her breasts against her skin. They were tight, a far cry from the softness she associated with them. She glanced back at Stacy’s swaying rear and saw her adjust her bra. It was faint, but she heard a groan of discomfort. A customer approached and distracted her. She would find out later.

The stream persisted until an hour into her usual shift time. Impressive, she thought and went on break as Stacy had instructed. She left a note on the counter, explaining that she and the owner would be back in fifteen minutes, and hurried to her boss’s cosy office. To the right of the hallway was the kitchen portion or the establishment, to the left sat Stacy’s quarters, and, wedged into the space beyond it, was their supplies. Plenty of sugar, dairy and coffee beans of course.

But those held no interest to Carmen. She glanced around, as if it could be the last time for her in this place, took a deep breath, though it did nothing to soothe her nerves, and knocked.

“Come in.”

She did. The office was scarcely more than a closet, packed to the brim with a single desk, two chairs and a filing cabinet. Despite her demeanour, Stacy kept her space tidy, after Carmen insisted on it when she started working for her, that is. The cheery proprietor sat at her desk, tapping at her keyboard, facing away from Carmen as she sat opposite the stunning woman. Anxious thumps echoed in her ears.

“Done,” Stacy sighed and relaxed into her chair, then swivelled about to face Carmen, “Lock the door please, Carmen.”

“Sure,” Carmen did so and returned to her seat. Unjust nerves tiptoed across the ledge of her control, each second brought a gust of wind that had them teetering, ready to spill over into reality. Stacy said nothing and stood, turned away. Carmen watched her, stealing fervent glances at her employer’s abundant bosom.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you in here,” Stacy said as she fiddled with something.

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. The words became a hurricane in her mind, nearly dislodging her anxiety from its flimsy prison.

“I’ve been thinking about the other night. What we almost did,” Stacy continued to fiddle, then stopped and sighed, “How naughty it was.”

Odd phrasing, Carmen thought, “I-I know.” Here it comes. In moments, she would be jobless, single and forced to hunt for work, to find a business run by someone remotely as kind as Stacy.

“We can’t do that again. Not for a while.”

“What?” The word tumbled from her lips, certainty hot on its tail.

“But I’ve been really backed up,” Stacy said and turned. Her shirt was open on either side, a front clasped bra strained and overflowed against her breasts, and her nipples poked through clear as any lighthouse. Sand filled with Carmen’s mouth as she raised her head, “And I know you mentioned the ‘Mommy/Daughter’ stuff before, so…” Stacy inched forced, breasts heaving in her ill-suited bra, “Lend Mama a hand, please dear?”

Carmen stared at her for an entire minute before she found her words again, “So, nothing’s wrong? With this? With us?”

“Never,” Stacy assured and pulled the honour student close, burying her face in the firm depths of her cleavage. Carmen breathed deep and sighed against the flesh, its scent intoxicating, a blend of citrus body wash and the coffee that Stacy loved so much. Soothing and energising at once. Her hands sneaked up and undid the hooks one at a time, until Stacy’s gorgeous boobs were released. The nipples jutted perversely and were a deep shade of pink. Her areolae were swollen too.

“I haven’t milked myself in two days,” Stacy told her, “It’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“I’ll help,” Carmen breathed. Her surroundings fell into oblivion, enshrouding her periphery in darkness and leaving one shining monument to captivate her. Ryuka could be watching, cackling about how Carmen was finally letting loose, but she, too, vanished into the abyss. This was but a moment in her life, one she’d never imagined would come to be. She deserved to enjoy it.

After all she did, all the work she put into maintaining her studies and homelife, she had every right to take ten minutes and indulge in her girlfriend’s gorgeous, milk-filled tits. Carmen nodded to herself as she moved to the right nipple, almost two inches long and wider than her thumb in its current state. She could stare at it for minutes on end, but such a luxury could wait. She needed to relieve Stacy.

Carmen opened wide and inhaled the plump teat. Her lips conformed to the engorged areolae as her tongue welcomed the nipple, lathering it in attention before she suckled. The spongy texture sat nice against her slick muscle, and the flavour, salty from sweat with a hint of Stacy’s natural sweetness, urged her to savour it. Then Stacy moaned and a tide poured forth.

She held strong and swallowed it all. Every drop was sweet as maple syrup, almost as thick too, yet it didn’t overpower her sense of taste, rather it embraced her. Carmen wrapped her arms around Stacy and pulled her close, sinking her nose into her tit-flesh, and sucked once more. More milk gushed into her, so much it puffed her cheeks out, even as she gulped it down and wished for more. She sank her hands into Stacy’s pants to handle her incredible ass, kneading it as she inched lower and around.

“Don’t, oh, don’t fret about me, Carmen. This feels amazing as is,” Stacy said and removed one of Carmen’s hands, pushing down toward the honour student’s own crotch. She didn’t fight it. What reason was there to? Her fingers pressed under her panties as she found Stacy’s. She touched both their sexes in unison.

Similar yet unique. Carmen’s had changed in the past months, growing puffier and wetter, while her clit refused to be locked in its hood anymore. Her fingers slid down her mons and rubbed against her moisture, pinching her plump button as she did. Stacy’s was as soft, if not more so, but strangely subdued by comparison. The lips were engorged, yet remained tight. Regardless, she was soaked.

Carmen moaned then gurgled as she drank more. Her employer echoed the sound as she played with their pussies, inching deeper into their individual depths, exploring the distinctions between them, even as milk drooled down her chin. Individual crevices and folds caressed her fingers inside Stacy, the woman’s hole tight and famished for attention. It drew her in deeper and doused her fingers in womanly cum.

“Oh, fuck,” Stacy gasped. Her hands stroked Carmen’s hair, holding her close and making sure she drank deep. Their eyes locked on one another, each hazed in pleasure and eager to find more.

Carmen swirled her tongue and groaned deep in her chest as she, finally, sated her lustful cunt. Had it always been so wet? Part of her feared she might soak her skirt at the rate she was going. It coated her inner thighs and dripped from the chair as she worked, driving her digit deep inside, palm flush against her huge clit. Sparks of bliss zipped between her nerve endings, ready to ignite an inferno at any moment.

“Switch, babe, switch,” Stacy advised. Carmen frowned and paused, realising she was sucking on a dry well. Her cheeks burned as she moved. The other nipple dripped in envy of its sibling, rivulets of milk poured down its vast expanse to dampen Stacy’s jeans. Carmen latched on as she had before.

She was so close. Stacy was too, her eyes were half-shut, lips parted and her full cheeks were a rosy tone. Just a bit more and they could cum. Their first time together. Perhaps Stacy wouldn’t mind if they ignored the shop for the rest of the day and went all the way? Carmen hastened her gulps as she imagined how delicious Stacy’s snatch must be, how ripe it would feel on her tongue, how the juices would gush down her gullet. Her turned fast and heavy, as did Stacy’s.

“Almost there, almost there,” Stacy breathed, rocking her voluptuous hips with Carmen’s swift fingers.

“Cum for me,” Carmen gurgled around the milk and breast stuffing her maw.

“HELLO?! Could I get some goddamn service here?!” An anonymous voice shouted from the front. Stacy jerked back at the sound. Carmen’s lips came free with a pop and droplets of milk landed on her face, which contorted itself from pleasure to confusion, “HELLO?” Then shifted into annoyance.

“Great, lost track of time,” Stacy murmured as she righted herself, tucking away her breast and making sure she didn’t leak through her bra, “Sorry, Carmen. We’ll have to continue another time.” She left, hurrying to deal with the customer. Carmen glanced at the computer screen and saw that her break was up. It was her only break, after which the next rush of customers would come; people getting off work and craving a pick-me-up before they went home.

Alone, Carmen studied her clothes. Her skirt was a lost cause, drenched in her prolific fluids, and her shirt was damp. Stacy, in her foresight, had prepared spare clothes for her. Carmen changed, face an expressionless mask, crafted to keep her desires cowed. Her lust had mutated. It snarled within its cage, another beast she would keep closed up for the next several years. Up front, she heard Stacy talking with the unruly man. He seemed to be demanding that Carmen be the one to serve him.

What did they find so attractive about her that Stacy didn’t have? Carmen stripped and observed her figure. It had changed. She couldn’t deny it, nor could she explain it as a simple growth spurt. No one commented on how much she’d grown, as if she’d always been so tall in their minds. Such was the power of the Futa Note, it seemed.

Her breasts were marginally smaller than Mary’s fake set. They swelled at perfect ratios, as if crafted by a masterful artist, and her nipples sat at the tops. No sag that she could see. Her belly was flat and smooth, though a hint of muscle threatened to turn into more, while her ass filled her hands. Her hips encroached on shoulder-width. Not to mention her height.

But the worst of it was her sex. Her pussy had indeed puffed up in her arousal, more so than she recalled it ever doing, and her clit protruded almost an inch, despite her dwindling desire. The pink of her labia glistened in her pent up lust.

“Don’t tell me you only just noticed?” Ryuka asked, floating into view.

“How much did you see?” Carmen demanded.

“I just came in,” Ryuka said, “But I heard plenty. It’s a real shame that man had to show up.”

“Shut up,” Carmen said as she dressed. The clothes smelled of Stacy, a once soothing aroma that now made her crave the woman.

“Though it’s not like you don’t have the perfect means to rectify this,” Ryuka shrugged, evil grin on her beautiful features. Carmen turned away from her, uncertain of how much she could trust her self-control. But the Seikogami did raise an intriguing point. If this opportunity came in the future, then Carmen had the means to ensure it wouldn’t be interrupted again. She could even make these moments became her daily life.

“I’m not using it,” Carmen vowed and fixed a wrathful glare on her mythical companion.

“Thought so. But why not give yourself something to enjoy when you can’t be with her,” Ryuka said, “You’re so strong willed, I’m sure you could put temptation right in front of you and give it the cold-shoulder.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“That Mary girl said she wanted bigger tits, didn’t she? Why not be a good friend and give her some?”


“It’s not against her will. You’re not changing her personality. All you’re doing is saving her some time and money, right?” Ryuka reasoned. She floated to Carmen and laid her enormous breasts upon her shoulders, “You ignore me all the time. I’m sure you can do the same to a human.”

“Why would I make my life harder than it already is?”

“You wouldn’t. Think of it as a… an incentive. Something for you to look forward to when you can finally do this again. A teaser of Stacy if you will.

“But I… That would be giving in.”

Ryuka scoffed at the idea, “From what I understand of you, Carmen, ‘giving in’ would involve you taking over the world or something. This is just a bit of fun. No harm in it.”

“She would look good,” Carmen muttered.

“And I bet she’d be grateful if she knew.”

“That’s true,” Carmen sighed and stepped out. Leaning against the wall was her bag, within which laid the source of her new, tumultuous life. She pulled out the book and a pencil. If it hadn’t fallen to her, everything would’ve gone to plan. She’d graduate, be a success and save her family from poverty. But, simultaneously, she wouldn’t have befriended Dakota and Mary, or tried to help Zoey, or gotten so close with Stacy. As was true for most powers, it was a blessing and a curse.

It really depended on how she used it. And helping a friend seemed as good a reason as any. But no more. She was done after this little change. She’d keep the book with her to make sure no one else found it. Nothing else. Unless she was desperate. A last resort. Her own personal nuclear solution.

She put it back and returned to her duties. Stacy apologised frequently, but Carmen promised they would finish it next time, even as her loins yearned to do so right there and then. She settled for stealing the occasional grope. Her employer was still sensitive after being pushed so close, often releasing stifled moans at the slightest brush against her breast. Carmen considered it a fair punishment.

Carmen sighed as the afterwork rush ended. Her shift was almost over, something her feet were grateful for. A final patron entered, a woman to Carmen’s relief. The shirt Stacy gave her fit better than any of her own, though its neckline hung too low for her tastes. Men had ogled her with little shame, though many tipped well. The woman was a runner, dressed in lycra, with her phone strapped to one arm, and tanned like Zoey.

“Hope she’s doing okay,” Carmen wondered after the runner left. Wanting something is simple, attaining it is a vastly different matter.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 15 - Overcome

Dull clouds blotted the sun from view. Meagre streams of light broke past the blanket of grey, casting sparse rays upon the world below, leaving it a cold mess. Zoey stood at her window, dressed in a simple grey t-shirt and skirt, with her hands clasped tight on her arms. The day appeared miserable. Even the energy of her neighbour’s children was subdued as they marched toward the bus stop, stripped of their childish glee by the week. Yet her own heart fluttered and her legs shook in nervous energy.

She caught sight of her own reflection in the windowpane. No more fear. That beast would stay locked up, chained to the darkest corners of her mind, starved and meek. Whatever came at her today, she would face it. Not shirk the confrontation, but meet it. Easier said than done. A phrase which irked her the more she thought it.

Why couldn’t it be done easily? Any consequence that might befall her today couldn’t be permanent, even Gretchen wasn’t immune to the law. She was close. A flash of tit and ass and she had most cops under her skirt, trapped between her meaty thighs and doused in her pheromones. Zoey dug her nails into her skin at the glimmer of desire in her crotch. The terse string around her cock flexed.

“Later,” Zoey promised. If all went as planned, she couldn’t afford to be tardy anymore. She would float back into the flow of mundanity, away from Gretchen’s demands and hate, a feeling she reciprocated. A flash of last night snapped her into motion. She ignored the low throb in her dick and grabbed her school bag, for the first time in years.

Megan was downstairs, dressed provocatively. Don’t look, don’t look. Giving anything beyond a glance to the deadbeat encouraged her, despite that, she teased Zoey with glee. But she was left without a response as Zoey left, eyes fixed on anything but her older sister. The door muffled Megan’s demands for attention. Once outside, the younger sibling leaned into the door and heaved a sigh of relief. A smile graced her face, bright against the dreary atmosphere.

Warmth sparked to life and clashed with the weather. Her sigh turned to a gentle moan at the heat. It spread across her form, comforted and encouraged her. She could do this. Today would be different, the beast she envisioned as her fear would be concealed, no matter how it clawed at the surface. A chair scraped against the floor, likely Megan getting up to pursue her. Zoey hurried down the street, out of sight when the door opened.

The school loomed overhead. Fences surrounded it on all sides with a single break at its front, framed by two brick towers, cracked and moss covered. They each stood just shy of seven feet tall. Zoey glanced to their peaks, obscured from her diminutive view. She’d thought, in her freshman year, that she might grow tall enough to peer over them. It didn’t happen, though she could jump high enough. The idea was a fantasy now.

Zoey lowered her chin and headed for the track field. The forecast was for rain, so she wanted to get a run in while she could. The area was vacant, as she expected. Her bag dropped against a wall as she went about stretching. Five-foot or six-foot, it didn’t matter. She’s a runner, her legs would carry her further than most others, away from worry. No, not away. She didn’t want to be away. Run to it, regardless of what worried her.

“Visualise it,” Zoey said and exhaled slowly. She stepped onto the track field, between the faded lines, and fell into position. Before her, she pictured a shadowed figure, featureless and imprinted her greater fret upon it. Platinum locks formed, styled and extravagant, its shape curved out at the hips and chest. The skin turned from black to a light gold and it turned, wearing Gretchen’s face.

“Beat her,” Zoey commanded herself. The shadow adopted its own pose, sloppy in technique. She counted down in her head. 3… 2… 1… Go! Zoey launched herself forward. Her legs were tiny, no taller than Rachel’s, but her power remained. Yet the shadow sprinted ahead of her. It leapt with its longer strides, catapulting itself further and further ahead.

Why? Zoey pushed herself harder. Salty rivulets streaked down her forehead. Her muscles extended and retracted, her feet pounded into the dirt, kicking it up behind her, and her arms pumped at her sides. If she were taller, she would be moving at full speed. The scenery blurred and faded around her.

Only the shadow and ground remained. The former turned its vicious head and winked at her, its face rippled and took on a new visage, that of a fellow runner, someone she’d lost to over and over. Her imagined adversary stepped up the pace, all while its hips swayed, as tempting as it was mocking. It’s hopeless. Zoey stumbled to a stop. The world jerked back into focus and the shadow vanished with a mocking wave, once again wearing Gretchen’s face.

“Why?” Zoey repeated aloud and sank to the earth. Her balls brushed against the back of her skirt, so heavy and huge she couldn’t fit them into her boxers. Even in her imagination, she couldn’t do anything against Gretchen, let alone someone else. She slouched forward to rest her palms against the grass, legs spread and shoulders slumped in exhaustion. A glimpse of her cock greeted her.

She needed a booster of some sort. Something, anything, to distract from the despicable performance. Only one fantasy put her above Gretchen, one that would be locked in her mind for all eternity. That’s fine. She didn’t want it to be real, not yet. Zoey raised her skirt and took a peek at her member. It throbbed in greeting, aware of the desire for relief surging in her veins.

“Slacking off?”

Zoey snapped her hands down and looked around. A girl, Holly, approached her, jovial grin on her face. She was part of the track team, an underperformer despite her long, powerful legs, befitting her six-foot stature. Shameful. It befuddled Zoey how someone could ignore such a great asset, why they would choose to laze about and monologue about boys or their makeup. She turned away.

“Well, whatever,” Holly shrugged and stepped onto the track field herself. She stretched, catching Zoey’s eye as she bent down and forward, pressing her honed rear flush against her skirt. The girl’s breasts were small, but pert beneath her top, enough for someone of Zoey’s stature to get a delightful handful, “Ready for the race on Wednesday?”

“Oh shit,” Zoey groaned and stood, “I forgot.”

“Well, not like a shrimp like you’ll win or anything,” Holly giggled.

“I…” Zoey clenched her jaw, then breathed deep, “I’m not a shrimp.”

“Sure,” Holly said and leered down at her. She reached out to pet Zoey’s head.

“Stop it!” Zoey snapped and pushed the hand away. A flicker of heat warmed her belly.

“Finally got a backbone? Funny, didn’t think shrimp had any,” Holly persisted.

“I’m not a damn shrimp,” Zoey said. The warmth brightened and spread across her form. Did it always feel this good to stand up to someone? Her hands relaxed and flexed. A dull ache accompanied the heat.

“Looks like it to me,” Holly stood down to put her face level with Zoey’s.

“Well, I’m not!”

“Prove it,” Holly sneered, “What about a race?”

Zoey stiffened. All manner of responses sifted through her mind, as did the image of the shadow she’d created. She pushed all others aside and latched onto the one she most wanted, “Sure. I can’t wait to see your face when you lose to a short girl.”

“Please,” Holly rolled her ears and settled into position. Her grin turned to a confident, yet giddy expression, “One lap. Try not to choke on my dust.”

“I hope you choke on mine,” Zoey answered, again finding and clutching the response she desired. It spurned on the ember in her body.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side this morning.”

Zoey ignored her. In a few minutes, her actions would speak infinitely more refined than any sentence she could form. This wasn’t some shadow in her imagination, but a girl. One she had beaten time and again, always without trying. Even minus a foot of height, and weary from her previous run, she was certain of her victory.

“And… go!” Holly’s feet kicked off like a springboard. She took an early lead, darting ahead. Zoey huffed and pressed herself harder. The clap of shoe on dirt, the crunch of gravel and her laboured breaths, all merged into her thoughts. As always everything vanished, even Holly, leaving her in her thoughts. A place she both coveted and avoided.

It was there that she’d met the beast that dominated most of her life. Huge and vicious, furless with teeth like swords and eyes embroiled with blood. Yet it never attacked. Not how she would expect. Rather, it adored her. The terrifying monster would curl up on the lap of her mind, ever-present, like a huge dog. For so long, she had fed it with all her uncertainties.

Now her mind was empty. The beast was tucked into the furthest corners of her mind, held there by the elation of her body moving as it wished, unfazed by the weight of her existence. Stray thoughts scurried through, freed without the monster to keep them cowed. She felt good. The wind was nice. Her muscles were tired. She smelled dirt and a hint of sweat.

Holly remained ahead of her. They were moments away from the finish line. She was about to lose, in the one thing that gave her true release, to someone who didn’t care about it in the slightest. Unacceptable. Zoey had to win, she wanted to beat this girl. This isn’t a shadow, nor is it Gretchen. It’s just another girl.

Zoey grunted and pushed her muscles into next gear. Her shoes left deep imprints in the ground and replaced the ones Holly left behind. A drop of moisture fell on her head, another splashed against her foot, and a third slammed into her nose. Holly slowed to look up. The short athlete dashed forward to take the lead and trampled across the finish. She trudged to a stop and turned to face Holly.

“Well?” Zoey asked, panting as she recovered. Sweat dampened her shirt and dripped down her skin, before it bled into the raindrops. She glanced skyward, the dull clouds had gathered and let loose their captive moisture, building to a greater rainfall, and back to Holly. The other girl stared at her in shock.

“Whatever,” Holly muttered and walked away. Zoey grabbed her bag and followed, a broad smirk on her face. The warmth had dissipated, but it left a sense of serenity behind. How long had it been, since her shoulders relaxed like this, since her thoughts were empty without being on the field? The rainclouds unleashed their wrath seconds after she stepped inside. She glanced around the hallway. It looked different than it had yesterday.

It wasn’t the false lights that buzzed overhead. Nor the absence of students. Zoey shrugged, determined not to let her fears interrupt her release.

“There you are,” Rachel said.

“Hmm?” Zoey turned from her locker and looked down at her friend. Down? Yes, she was forced to look down to meet Rachel’s eyes. Her smile widened, “Hey, Rachel.”

“What’s got you all happy?” Rachel asked, returning the grin.

“Well…” the doors opened and interrupted her.

“Fuck me! Why did it have to start raining?” Mary Thomas demanded and shook her head, “Ugh, my poor hair.”

“It’ll be fine,” Dakota said and flipped her own, shorter locks, “You don’t hear Carmen complaining.” Carmen? Zoey looked to the new arrivals and there, between the former queen bee and her lackey, stood Carmen Robins. Her hair dripped from being stuck in the rain, yet it worked for her. The moisture forced her normally loose and tatty clothes to cling onto her skin, tight around her stunning form. Zoey gulped and looked away, a dull throbbing in her member. She risked a glimpse and caught the honour student’s eyes.

What was that look in them? She looked away before Zoey could decipher it further, turning to address her friends. They passed Zoey and Rachel, the short redhead glared at Carmen, before returning her attention to Zoey, who stared after the trio until they rounded a corner. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when her phone vibrated.

“It’s Gretchen. She wants us. Come on,” Rachel said.

“No,” Zoey said.


“I’m not going,” Zoey shut her locker. The lock clicked into place.

“You’re not serious? You know what she’ll do.”

“I do. And I don’t care.” The warmth returned, softer than before, but it was there.

“Come on, Zoey,” Rachel insisted and grabbed her hand, frowned at it, then let go, “She’s gonna fucking rip your head off.”

“No, she won’t,” Zoey stated. Gretchen was a bitch, petty and sometimes violent, but she couldn’t do much beyond torment someone. If she attacked her, Zoey would call the cops. Simple.

“Who won’t?” The voice suited a cobra, slick and venomous, almost seductive, and curled around her. Zoey looked down the hall and saw Gretchen approach, with Ashley shuffling close behind.

“Uh,” Rachel gulped and glanced at Zoey, who had frozen. The warmth had vanished, replaced by an icy chill that crept along her spine, slow and excruciating.

“My… my sister…” Zoey said and lowered her head.

“Oh, yeah. Megan, right? I like her,” Gretchen said and leaned against a wall, “Anyway, I texted you girls, but you were taking so long, I figured I’d get you myself.” Her words dripped with disdain, as though the fact she had to find her subordinates disgusted her. It did. The fact was plain across her face.

“Sorry,” Rachel said.

“Better be,” Gretchen muttered, just loud enough for the others to hear the threat in her tone. Her voice flipped, “Anyway, we’ve got a bitch to take down.”

“Carmen again?” Zoey asked. Her lips clamped shut, sealed against any future traitorous words.

“No,” Gretchen said, “Think her name’s Jenna or something, doesn’t really matter. She’s the bitch who got us dragged to that assembly. That’s what matters.”

“What’re we going to do?” Ashley inquired, prompting an explanation.

“Whatever I want,” Gretchen giggled, a sound better associated with children running and playing, not a vengeful bitch on the warpath. They’d all seen what that meant. Jenna would leave school bruised, miserable, humiliated, and likely poorer as well. If she was lucky.

“But…” Zoey stopped at a sharp grip from Rachel. It was too late. Gretchen fixed her scowl upon the athlete and walked close, until her breasts suffocated Zoey’s smaller chest. They were close in height, only an inch separated them, but the blonde came off so much taller, like a giant or troll staring down an impertinent rodent. Zoey stepped back and Gretchen moved forward.

“What did you say?” Gretchen demanded. If she was a dog, her fangs would be bared, foaming with hunger and stalking toward the runner. Zoey’s legs twitched with the desire to run but didn’t move. She could outrun her with ease, why be scared. The girl opposite her was a lazy slut, whose only exercise came from squatting over a toilet or cock. And one rested mere centimetres from her, larger than any man Gretchen might’ve slept with.

She claimed to be a true size queen. How would she react to Zoey’s member? Flaccid, it met her knees and forced her to wear a longer skirt with her dick strapped down at an angle, such that it wouldn’t be seen. Her erection shamed anything she’d heard of. A shudder of want passed from her spine into her groin. She kept her tongue from licking her lips.

Last night, she’d stumbled on the greatest sensation she’d ever felt. A simple move in the grand scheme, but one she doubted any man could pull off. Zoey’s cock throbbed against its bonds, craving to be back inside her mouth. The acknowledgement of where it had been urged her desire on, forcing her to step away.

Her cock had been so hard. It felt like bone wrapped in silk with dozens of fingers bulging beneath, and reached from her crotch to her chin while tilted away from her. Zoey had tried to masturbate, but the length was too much. Her arms became exhausted. What option did she have? Then she put it in her mouth and changed her world.

The head alone was almost too great, though she managed. Her hands abandoned the shaft and went to her balls, then one sank lower. She had massaged one heavy ball while her right hand sought her pussy. It was soaked and ravenous, swallowing her finger after finger as she moaned and squirmed in place. Juices leaked onto her hand and thighs and bedsheets, while drool leaked down her shaft and she struggled with her cock head.

She had overheard Mary and Gretchen discussing blowjobs before and followed their advice. She bobbed her head to and fro, careful of her teeth, and used her lips to caress it. Her tongue was pressed flat by its sheer size. All thought had vanished from her mind. Pleasure illuminated every corner of her mind, forcing the beast far back. She abandoned her testicle and circled her ass.

In a moment of mindless pleasure, she slid a finger inside. The burn had hurt so good, then she came to the final knuckle and curved her digit. There, she discovered her prostate. A moment later and she came. Hard.

She swore the remnants of her orgasm lingered on her tongue. Even as Gretchen snarled at her, she tasted the faint leftovers of cum.

“Out with it! Got a better idea? Huh?” Gretchen demanded.

“I…” Zoey stammered, blinking back to the present.

Rachel stepped forward, “She…”

“Fuck off!” Gretchen turned on her, “I’m talking here.” Cowed, Rachel backed away. Zoey was alone. All other teachers and students were elsewhere, though they wouldn’t stop Gretchen, having a set of witnesses for the cops would help.


Zoey looked everywhere but at the venomous girl’s eyes, “It’s just…”

“What? Can’t hear you. Speak up you little piece of shit.”

“Isn’t that her?” Ashley said from behind.

Gretchen rounded on the plump girl, but stopped when she followed Ashley’s finger. At the end of the hall, Jenna and another girl walked by. The blonde’s face split into a malicious smirk, almost inhuman in how it twisted her features. She started toward Jenna, as if Zoey had faded from existence. Ashley hurried after her while Rachel and Zoey lingered.

“What were you thinking?” Rachel whispered.

“Nothing,” Zoey said. She could’ve done it then and there, surpassed that shadow, stripped it of all its power over her. A simple punch or even just running. Either would’ve done the job of freeing her from Gretchen’s hold. Instead, all she did was lose herself in her memories and cower.

“She looked ready to kill you,” Rachel said.

“I know.”

“Have you gone mad?”


“Could’ve fooled…”

“I’m fine!” Zoey snapped. A wave of heat and coldness spread throughout her being. She blinked as the world seemed to roll around her, before it settled back into place. Her eyes turned to Rachel, who now stood on an even plane as her.

“Okay,” Rachel said and started walking. The athlete watched her before catching up.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rachel shook her head, “About time you tried something anyway. Is my little Zoey growing a backbone?” She cooed.

“Basically,” Zoey shrugged, glad that she hadn’t damaged their friendship at least, “Didn’t work though.”

“What did you expect?” Rachel asked.

“Dunno. Success, maybe?”

Gretchen was out for blood. She strode past Jenna, heels clicking harshly against the floor, and blocked her path. Ashley, Rachel and Zoey hovered nearby. The other girl left Jenna to her fate, instantly reading the intent on Gretchen’s face. Zoey shifted from foot to foot, gaze adhered in horror to the scene as it played out before.

Jenna was a plain girl. Brunette, average height, decent curves and unnoteworthy if not for the bow in her hair. If Gretchen didn’t have access to the school files, she might’ve escaped the school without ever incurring Gretchen’s direct wrath. Sadly, reality dealt in favour of the blonde. Jenna attempted to get past, but Gretchen lashed out and grabbed her backpack.

“Where do you think you’re going, shit face?” The powerful girl sneered and turned to her cohorts, “Zoey, get over here.”

Why couldn’t she stay out of it? Zoey wanted to stand aside and pray that it might end soon, or for Gretchen to get struck by a meteor, but she couldn’t. What Gretchen wanted, she got. Without question.

“I’m going to hand you a few things. If little miss ‘goodie-two-shoes’ here does anything, you’re gonna break them,” Jenna visibly relaxed, assured that neither she or her belongings would be harmed for the moment, “Then again, if I don’t like it, just break it.”

“I don’t…”

Gretchen’s glare silenced her, still fuelled by her prior insubordination. The athlete hung her head and nodded, wincing at the chill that passed through her body. Even shrunken, she was Gretchen’s Pit Bull, owned for the sole purpose of destroying whatever she was given. Jenna tensed as her pack was opened. She said nothing. Smart move, any words would set Gretchen off, regardless of their intention.

Beg, and she would do it more. Fight back, and she would hurt you. No grey area.

“Hmm, oh hey, pretty expensive phone you’ve got here,” Gretchen sneered and pulled out a high-end cell phone, “Probably cost you a lot.”

“It was a present,” Jenna said. Big mistake, Zoey thought and glanced at Gretchen, whose cruel grin extended as she handed the device over. Jenna made a grab for it and had the air knocked from her lungs as she plummeted to the ground. The blonde sat atop Jenna’s knees and pinned her arms behind her back.

“Break it,” Gretchen ordered, staring into and past Zoey’s eyes. Her gaze grabbed the beast and dragged it to the surface. Any idea of opposition melted. If she were to refuse then Gretchen would turn on her and, at that point, she couldn’t fathom what she might do. As it stood, Zoey was surprised Gretchen was so restrained.

She tightened her grip on the phone and bent. It cracked and snapped in two after a minute of strain, all while Jenna looked on in rage, split now between both Zoey and Gretchen. The blonde reached back into the bag and rifled around.

“Bingo!” She pulled out a notebook, one with an ornate cover and elegant scrawl that read ‘Diary’. Gretchen handed it over, “Don’t tear it up yet. Read it for us.”

“Isn’t that going too…” Another glare and her voice trailed into silence.

“Don’t wanna do it, then fuck off and I’ll deal with you later. Maybe this bitch will help out with that? I mean, you did just destroy her phone.”

“Because you…”

“Shut it! Get reading.”

“I… yes,” Zoey shrank back, “Where do I start?”

“Find something about a crush or whatever. Or maybe she writes about dirty shit?” Gretchen cackled, “Do you write about fingering yourself? I bet you’re a real slut. The plain ones always are. Maybe you get off fisting your ass?” Her hand crashed down on Jenna’s rear with a resounding smack. Silence followed, broken only by Jenna’s pained whimpers.

“Oh, I think I know what I’m gonna do with you. Fuck the diary, we’re going to the gym.”

They moved to the gym storage room. Basic equipment occupied the space. Gymnastic mats, a basket of disused and deflated balls, some skipping and climbing rope. A single window stood sentry, cracked and ajar, letting the damp and chill air in. The smell of mould filled the room as it grew in the upper corners. A deep crack lined the far-right wall and drops of rain leaked through the roof.

Zoey hated this. She hated it because of herself more than anything. How could she be so weak, as to stand there and do nothing? Every other thought she had craved to escape or put an end to the scene before her, yet neither were heeded. The poor girl whimpered beneath Gretchen, whose sadistic merriment worsened with each noise. In one hand, she held a marker, in the other a pair of sharpened scissors.

Any other person would’ve kept their thoughts to themselves or joked about going through with it. Gretchen had no such filter. She set aside the marker and ran the scissors along Jenna’s shirt, severing it and her bra. The girl yelped in pain. A faint line of red formed above her belly button where Gretchen nicked her. The same had already been done to Jenna’s skirt, leaving her naked save a patch of her torn panties on her crotch.

“You,” Gretchen said as she reclaimed the marker. Jenna squirmed, arms bound over her head in rope, while her legs kicked futilely under Ashley’s body, “Are going to walk out of here. Don’t worry about that. But I need to make sure everyone knows what a stupid, little shit you are.”

Jenna released several muffled sounds, incapable of forming words around the remains of her skirt, though her intent was clear. She wanted this to stop. She was sorry. She wouldn’t do it again. Gretchen remained ignorant. To her, those sounds were pleas for help, a noise she savoured.

Zoey stood in a corner facing Gretchen. Rachel was on lookout, since the proceedings were certainly assault. Any of them could call the police. A few pictures of evidence, combined with Jenna’s testimony and Gretchen would be in deep trouble. The bitch wouldn’t even know which of them it was. Zoey dug her nails into her palm and shook.

If so, then why didn’t she do it. What was stopping her? The idea of loyalty to Gretchen was a joke in itself, if given the chance she or Rachel would gladly throw her under the bus. It wasn’t out of the hope that she might change her ways. Zoey hadn’t seen anything different to what she saw now, nothing but a vindictive slut, as it had been since they met. Only Mary had reigned her in. She was gone now, leaving Gretchen’s malice unchecked.

“Find anything good yet, Ashley?” Gretchen giggled as she scribbled on the girl.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Ashley answered.

“Wow,” she sounded genuinely impressed, “Is there a phone number?”


“I’m gonna give him a call. Maybe he can stop by? Then you can watch,” Gretchen turned her full attention back to Jenna, whose upper body was debased in terrible words and doodles, “As I rock his fucking world.”

Jenna jerked at that. Her head lurched forward and connected with Gretchen’s chin. Zoey stared in shock as the queen bee snapped her head back into place, similarly stunned, before clenching a fist, rearing it back and letting it fly.

“Bad move, retard!” Gretchen snarled and let loose a second punch. Jenna’s nose broke and her cheeks were red and swelling, while tears streamed from her eyes.

“Stop it!” Zoey shouted. Gretchen’s fury turned on her. She stood and rushed over, fist at the ready and murder in her eyes. She swung and Zoey side-stepped, grateful for her natural athleticism. The rapid escalation to Gretchen’s behaviour meant nothing to her. Drunk or sober, Gretchen could change at the drop of a hat. Faster when her mood was already foul.

“You stupid shit! What makes you think you can say that to me?!” Gretchen demanded and grabbed at Zoey. She caught her collar and yanked close, “You’re so fucking worthless, you know that? Look, I don’t even have to hit you. You’re pathetic. You always will be. So shut the fuck up and watch like a good bitch. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take a piss later. I own you.”

What gave her the right? Bullies existed in every school, some bordered on psychopathic, but they could be controlled to some extent. For what reason did life see fit to gift this disgusting person with such freedom, to torture an innocent girl, to punch her, to claim ownership over someone? The thing about bullies, though, is that they always go too far. Someone fights back. No one had done so against Gretchen yet. No one was in as perfect a position as Zoey.

No cameras, no teachers, nothing to hold her back. Ashley wouldn’t help, and Rachel was more liable to assist her rather than Gretchen. Gretchen’s pride would keep her from letting slip how bad she was beaten. She wasn’t stronger than others. They just couldn’t do anything for fear of repercussion. None of their parents cared enough to get them into a new school, nor would they believe the stories about Gretchen.

Zoey could fulfil the student body’s wildest dream.

“That’s what I thought,” Gretchen spat, a glob landed on Zoey’s cheek, and shoved the girl away.

“You know something?” Zoey said, “I really, really hate you.” From the bottom of her heart, she did. Gretchen was the worst person she knew, not quite on the level as some people on tv, but horrible nonetheless. She matched Kim Kardashian for how shallow and terrible she was, yet, in most eyes and those of Zoey’s, she was hot. Scalding, even. The focal point of Zoey’s recent fantasies.

What she wouldn’t give to see her face covered in cum. But, for now, something thinner and crimson would suit her far better.

“Did I say you could talk?” Gretchen asked.

“Because of things like that. And this,” Zoey looked to Jenna’s bloodied face.

“What did I say?” Gretchen demanded and grabbed at her again. Zoey didn’t have any self-defence training, but she had a basic understanding of someone’s balance and how to disrupt it. She avoided the grab and kicked at Gretchen’s knee, forcing her down. Before the blonde could say anything, Zoey pushed her back and straddled her stomach. Her arm muscles tensed and rippled across her skin as they worked toward a single goal; Gretchen’s face.

The sensation of skin and bone on her fist was one Zoey hated. She’d experienced it several times before, when she was made to beat up someone Gretchen didn’t like, but this was new. It still felt awful. The way her arm vibrated on impact, the crack of bone on bone, the feeling of Gretchen’s cheek conforming around her knuckles. She could live without it, but not the absolute sense of relief and satisfaction she felt at the sight below her.

Gretchen didn’t move, stunned into submission. But it wouldn’t last.

Run. The thought finally reached Zoey’s nerves as she raced from the room. Rachel blurred past, before she was pushed away by Gretchen. Zoey was long gone, though. She found her class, where she should’ve been since that morning. How long had Gretchen kept her? She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. So long as she had a place with witnesses, the blonde couldn’t do too much.

“It’s her!” Someone yelled. Zoey glanced to the source and saw Holly, sat atop her table surrounded by classmates. The teacher had a pair of headphones on, music blaring to mask the vapid conversations of the class as they read a book. All students turned their attention on Zoey, eyes boring into her skirt. One squinted, another tilted her head, as if trying to decipher a Rorschach Test.

“I don’t see it,” Another girl said.

“Hold on,” Holly said and strode up to Zoey.

“What’s…” Her skirt was flipped up. A gasp echoed through the room in a wave, before laughter roared to life.

“Told you!” Holly chortled above the others. Their joy caught the teacher’s attention, who turned to see Zoey shove her skirt into place.

Zoey didn’t stay to hear anything else. She fled into the hall, away from the gym and classroom, from the haunting laughs. Then she stopped and peered into another room. It was quiet, no more than the usual chatter. Sat beside a window was Carmen, desk vacant and gaze fixated on the gloomy clouds above. Zoey’s legs moved unbidden. If anyone noticed her, they said nothing. She stopped at Carmen’s desk.


“Hmm?” The honour student turned, “What’re you doing here?”

“I… I, uh…” Zoey’s shoulders shook. Her hand hurt, as did her legs. Her eyes stung and her nose threatened to drip. Stop it. This is good. You did what she said, she’ll be happy for you. “I punched Gretchen.” Carmen’s eyes widened. More words tumbled from Zoey’s lips before the beast of her mind could swallow them, “And… and I… I have to tell you something.”

A series of violent footsteps echoed from outside, “Later. You’d better hide.” Carmen said.

“Y-yeah,” Zoey sank down and folded herself under Carmen’s desk. While there, she recognised the fiery warmth that coated her. It soothed the shaking, stemmed the tears and dulled the ache in her hand. She glanced to Carmen and found her vision engulfed in her shapely legs. Zoey took a long breath, drawing in the honour student’s scent. Whether this sensation of peace was something unnatural, or a product of Carmen’s presence made no difference. It merely solidified something in Zoey’s mind.

She might be in love.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 16 - Change

It was maelstrom of fleeting thoughts. Zoey cycled through them all, one after the other, each as unsustainable as the last. She was glad to be with Carmen, though that meant being stowed under her desk for the meantime, but Gretchen was out there. Stalking the halls. Her heels had probably cracked under the force of her steps. Had the black eye set in yet? Would it even show through her makeup?

Zoey glanced to her side, away from her knees. Her skirt had fallen down her legs, bunched up around her waist and hips, allowing anyone who glanced at her the opportunity to observe her cock. It didn’t reach as far as it once did, not that she could discern. She didn’t dare check and, instead, remained frozen place. Everyone would look her way if she made a move.

Time passed at an indecipherable pace. A minute, an hour might have passed and she wouldn’t know. Was it still first period? Her only choice was to wait for class to end, for her sanctuary to be destroyed. Gretchen would find her after that. Then what? She could fight, but no one could predict how many would come to the blonde’s aid. If she did, she would be expelled, something she didn’t want on her permanent record. Especially when Gretchen’s mother had connections to near every college within a five-hundred mile radius.

“A few more minutes,” Carmen whispered from above, an angelic voice that parted the grey clouds in Zoey’s head. She looked to the honour student, satisfied with staring at her knees, past which she glimpsed a set of plain underwear. So different to what Gretchen wore, “There’s a free period coming up. We’ll head to the library.”

“What about Gretchen?” Zoey asked, her voice nothing but a tiny squeak in her ears.

Carmen heard her though, “Dakota and Mary said they’ll run interference on that front.”

“Wow,” Zoey steered her head back to its neutral position, chin rested atop her pursed knees and eyes gazing out into the sea of legs beyond, each controlled by Gretchen. The girl had her fangs and claws in them all, whether it was in the form of a ghostly rumour or a memory of her behaviour, she was always present, fuelling their fear. Except for three in the entire school.

How? The deceptively simplistic question hung on Zoey’s brain. Its austerity laid buried, adorned by a mountain of all the other questions that surfaced, about whether it was as easy as a choice, or if the ability came from something deeper. A difference in pedigree? No. Carmen was poor, and Dakota and Mary were upper middle-class at worst. It couldn’t be so simple as personality.

“Time to go,” Carmen said, seconds before the painful sputtering of the bell. The machine was admirable in a way. Despite being broken, left to rust without a second-thought, it still persisted. Zoey crawled from her hiding place and took a parting glance at Carmen’s luscious, milky thighs, “Don’t run. Just walk. If all goes well, you’ll blend in.”

And what if I don’t? She wanted to ask, but kept silent. Zoey nodded as she came to stand beside the top-tiered student. She wavered as a wave of vertigo hit her and grabbed the desk for stability. A glance down revealed the cause. She was tall again. Not as high as before, but above average. It was too great a coincidence for her to stand up for herself and to grow back to near her original height. Not to mention the warm sensation she’d experienced earlier.

“Let’s go,” Carmen said. She grabbed Zoey’s wrist and pulled her along. Outside, the throngs of students masked most of the school. Zoey glanced side to side, eyes wide and observant for the crown of platinum blonde locks she dreaded. No sign of her. A collective blanket of relief descended upon the crowd when they also noticed.

Carmen didn’t pause to enjoy the reprieve. Her feet navigated the student body with practised ease, the kind that came from years of being ignored, remaining on the outskirts, away from distraction and prying eyes. The sacrifices one had to make to stay at the top of the class. And to ignore Gretchen’s hurtful eyes? She spied another outcast teen, who clung to the wall and was passed over by everyone else. Someone mentioned Gretchen and she stiffened.

No, being ignored didn’t grant immunity. Then what? Frustration infiltrated her thoughts, not just for the gross hold Gretchen held on her, nor the cloud of disdain and antipathy that clung to the students, but for how she couldn’t fathom Carmen’s ability. How this girl could somehow be so poor that her clothes were riddled in holes, possess a body made for worship and excel academically, all while she was targeted by the school’s queen bitch, and remain so strong? She’d seen girls from military families, trained by their parents to endure anything, be torn down by Gretchen.

It’s not fair. And yet, it was that girl who defied the term fairness who was helping her. Zoey glanced to her wrist, clasped tight in Carmen’s fingers, and back along the arm to the dark mane of silky hair. It narrowed toward the base of her spine, like an arrow pointed toward her firm rear, which presided over a set of long, voluptuous legs. So, so unfair, Zoey thought with a shake of her head.

“Okay, we’re clear,” Carmen said as they neared the library. After the past few months it had decayed, with fresh ivy creeping along its walls, encroaching on the windows. A sign outside made it clear that it was to be refurbished and repurposed. Gretchen’s doing. She’d made the point to her mother that it would be better spent serving as an entertainment centre. One with an exclusive area for Gretchen of course. Ms. Blake agreed.

She always did. The principal’s history was unclear, no one cared enough to ask and Gretchen didn’t explain anything, but everyone knew she spoiled her manipulative slut of a daughter. Not that she saw it that way. Gretchen was a picture of misunderstood genius in her mind, one that deserved only top marks, of the level that put her one place below Carmen.

The stunning senior led her inside. The library was void of life. Faint streams of light filtered in amongst the vines along the windows and illuminated dust particles as they floated through the air, each incapable of finding space among the layers already on the rows of bookcases. Every book remained in place, disturbed only by one soul in the past months.

“Ugh, it was so nice here before,” Carmen said, scrunching her nose at the musty air. She approached a table and pulled out a chair, sending dust flying everywhere, then took a seat, “Still, at least it’s quiet.”

It was. Zoey listened closely as she strode over to join her. None of the sounds she recognised from school penetrated the high walls around them, as if they’d entered a separate world, vacant and stale, but peaceful.

“This is kind of where we first met,” Zoey said.

“Yeah,” Carmen sighed and swiped at a layer of grime on the table top to lay her head atop it. She added, under her breath, “And when all this began.”


“Nothing,” Carmen sighed and raised her head, “We’ve got about an hour. Wanna tell me why you punched the scariest bitch in school?” She arched an eyebrow, lips tilted in a curious, excited smirk.

“You told me to,” Zoey answered, “Um, I mean… you told me to stand up for myself. You were right.”

“I’m glad,” Carmen’s smirk turned to a gentle grin, one of relief, as if she was invested in Zoey’s development, “You look better now.”

“What do you mean?” Zoey frowned. Did she know what was happening?

Carmen shrugged and looked away, “Just looks that way to me.”

“Carmen, this… this will sound crazy but…” Zoey’s throat clenched as she swallowed, tight around the ball of anxiety that trapped itself in her gullet. Air filtered past in a restricted flow. Enough for her to live, not to speak.

“I’ve heard a lot of crazy things,” Carmen said, “Nothing you say will shock me.”

“Well, I, uh, I…” Zoey gulped again, louder this time, “I think I’m shrinking.”

Carmen’s eyes bulged at the proclamation, but nothing else moved. Her lips remained pursed in a plump line, unfazed, “And growing?” She asked.

“Yes!” Zoey yelped, excited. She shied back and cleared her throat, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Carmen said and leaned forward, “No one else noticed?”

Zoey nodded, “Nobody. Not even my parents.” What did that imply? That she and Carmen had a deeper connection than what she had with Rachel, with her own parents? She’d known the straight-A student for under a week. It didn’t make sense.

“Strange,” Carmen’s gaze turned piercing as it travelled across Zoey’s form. The athlete froze. She almost felt it as her body was observed, dissected by the gorgeous girl opposite her. What would she see? Would she like it? This might be a chance. Zoey straightened her posture and pressed her meagre chest out. She wanted to stand and give a better look at her entire body, but remained seated, keeping her penis concealed.

“Any idea what triggers it?” Carmen asked. She relaxed her stare.

“Kind of,” Zoey shrugged and slouched, “I mean, I feel cold when I, when someone bullies me. Then I’m warm when I stop it.”

“So, you act like a wuss and you shrink, and when you stand up you grow back a bit? Is that right?” Carmen simplified.

“Sounds like it,” Zoey said.

“You’ll be fine then,” Carmen chuckled, “I mean, what’s scarier than Gretchen?”

“Nothing,” Zoey laughed, “Except maybe two of them.”

“Oh god, don’t. Last thing I want is to imagine two of those.”

“What about three?”

“Weirdly, I think three would be easier,” Carmen wondered, “They’d probably kill each other.”

“Why not two?”

“Well, they’d do it eventually, but three would speed it up.”

Zoey lowered her chin to hide the heat in her cheeks. A horrible scenario, yes, but three of Gretchen would make for an intriguing scene. The bitch thought herself above all others, so of course she’d adore having another copy of herself. It wouldn’t take long for her to experiment. Gretchen 1 would kiss Gretchen 2, while the third stripped and groped the pair, before joining the action. Then they’d all turn to the only cock in the room; Zoey’s. How would three sets of lips feel if her own, thinner pair were divine?

Her cock throbbed against its restraint. She clenched her thighs together and jerked back to a proper posture, face forward and hands tense on the table. Carmen’s eyes flickered to them and thinned slightly.

“So, what caused this thing?” Carmen asked.

Zoey exhaled in gratitude. If Carmen noticed anything, she ignored it, a small mercy, but one Zoey hadn’t seen in so long. The moment something caught Gretchen’s eye, she called it out. A quick glance to a guy, and she was all over him, or if someone stared at her too long, she turned it into an insult for both herself and the other person. Unless they had a large bulge in their pants, then it became a conquest.

“I, uh, have no idea,” Zoey said. She didn’t. It was simple to blame it all on her spontaneous cock growth, or on the sudden feelings she held toward Carmen, even both, but that didn’t make sense either. Growing a penis was one thing, but how could something so relatively minor make her shrink? Only a coincidence. Or magic, but, again, that was impossible.

“Hmm… Ever wonder if there’s a god?” Carmen asked. Her eyes flitted to the right and lingered there, as though staring at something invisible to Zoey. Whatever it might be, she looked away soon after.

“Not really. I’d think they’d have done something about Gretchen by now,” Zoey said.

“In every story I’ve read or heard, a god doesn’t intervene directly. They help out through other means. Like urging someone to a goal that would free a country, or giving them a quest to save the world or something. I never paid attention to it myself. But,” Carmen locked her dark blue stare on Zoey, “Maybe there’s merit to it?”

“You think a god did this to me?” Zoey asked.

“Makes about as much sense as anything else,” Carmen said.

“That seems cruel, though.”

Carmen shrugged, “Maybe. Though I haven’t heard of a god that doesn’t dick around with someone.”

“I guess so. Why would one give me this?” Zoey muttered and froze when she realised what she’d said.

“Give you what?” Carmen leaned over the table. A few feet still separated them, but Zoey swore she felt the girl’s breath on her skin. A few simple moves and they’d be touching. She could get a feel for how soft this genius worker was, how she smelled and how she tasted. Oh yes, she needed a taste. Just something to fuel her activities that night.

“Uh, this curse,” Zoey said and leaned away. A wave of coldness dampened her arousal and the world shifted. Everything grew taller, slight enough that she could easily miss it if she hadn’t grown accustomed to the frequent change. Did lying also trigger it?

“You just shrank again,” Carmen noted and sighed, “Listen. I know this is weird. It’s insane. But you can’t shy away anymore. If you do, then who knows what will happen. If someone shouts at you, shout back. If they want you to do something you don’t want to, then tell them you don’t.”

“But that’s… It’s not who I am.”

“Change is important,” Carmen said with a glance toward herself. Her lip curled, but she couldn’t tell if it was a smile or grimace.

“It’s terrifying.”

“To what? Say ‘fuck off’ to someone other than Gretchen?” Carmen teased.

“I didn’t say that to her,” Zoey mumbled.

“No, you punched her instead. If a random stranger snaps at you to, I don’t know, hurry up with something, then you can just tell them to wait. Confronting someone, bully or otherwise, doesn’t mean you have to be an ass,” Carmen explained.

“That sounds so obvious,” Zoey said.

“It is.”

“So, what’re you telling me to do here? I mean, you’re the smart one.”

“Not smart, just a hard worker,” Carmen corrected, “And I’m not really telling you to do anything. Just giving some advice. Judging from what I’ve seen, you get taller when you fight back. It can be minor or huge. And you shrink when you basically roll over, even if it’s just a simple question.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” Zoey said.

“I don’t have friends, so I tend to observe.”

“What about Dakota and Mary?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess, they’re my friends,” Carmen trailed off. She leaned back in her chair and mused aloud, “Things keep on changing. I didn’t think they could be so different.”

Change? Yeah, that’s what she had needed for so long. Zoey studied herself, nothing had changed until recently. She hadn’t noticed any difference in her height since turning eighteen, her wardrobe was mostly the usual brown and red tones with a hint of black mixed in, even her hairstyle went unaltered. It was time for something different.

Growing a cock and shrinking as she had was the greatest alteration to her life in the past few years. And look where it had taken her. Zoey raised her eyes. Those changes brought her here, to an abandoned library, sat opposite a gorgeous and studious girl, with a dull ache in her right hand and a million tumultuous thoughts. The loudest of which was; what would further change bring her?

A date? A kiss? More?

Quiet settled over the table. Sounds of wildlife and cars sifted inside, but went ignored. Zoey stared at Carmen in silence, trying, and failing, to find fault with her. An errant mole peeked over the neckline of her top, stark against her pallid complexion, yet it meant nothing. Carmen’s left eyebrow was crooked, but still arched in an elegant line.

There had to be something. Her breasts were too big. Blasphemy. They were asymmetrical. Not that she could see. Did her ass sag? She hadn’t noticed any dip in the cheeks while they walked, aside from the sensual lift and fall of Carmen’s assured strides. Perhaps her pussy was hairy or too meaty? Zoey stifled a laugh as she realised that it wouldn’t matter what flaws this surreal beauty had.

I love you. The words died in her throat. This wasn’t the time or place. Carmen already had to deal with Gretchen and schoolwork, now she had Zoey’s problems on top of those. She didn’t need another weight on her chest.

“Thanks,” Zoey said.

“For stating the obvious?” Carmen asked.

“For helping me with, um, just about everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Carmen took a glance at her watch, “I should go. Classes aren’t far off. Plus I want to make sure Dakota and Mary are alright.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Should I come too?”

“Not a good idea. You should probably law low for a day or two. Gretchen will take her anger out on someone, I think, then the storm should be mostly over,” Carmen said. She stood and stretched, arms over her head as she arched her back, announcing her pert breasts to the world. Zoey snapped her eyes back to her hands, though they darted to Carmen’s hips as she turned around, bag slung over a shoulder.

“Hey, uh… I’ve got some spare notebooks. In my locker. You can have them if you want?”

“No thanks.”

“But-but aren’t you gonna fall behind?”

“I’m already ahead,” Carmen said, “I’ll just have to cram for finals. Worst case, I have a few sleepless nights. So long as I get into the right college, it won’t matter.”

Zoey hurried to catch up and followed Carmen outside. She didn’t dare go inside the main building, or venture any further from her temporary sanctum. Gretchen could be prowling the corridors, still enraged and prepped to murder anyone who crossed her path. Someone might’ve already fallen victim to her anger.

“Why bother with college?” Zoey blurted. She hadn’t meant to say that, not aloud. No, speaking out was part of her reform. She wouldn’t keep her words bottled up, not anymore. Where it was appropriate of course, “I mean, you’re hotter than any model.” Her cheeks boiled at the proclamation. If Carmen didn’t know about her attraction, she did now.

“Doesn’t pay enough.”

“Are you kidding? They make a fortune.”

“The popular ones do, yeah. But I don’t want something so temporary. I need cash, influence. Something permanent,” Carmen said.

“Like what?”

“Who knows? I’ve gotta go.”

“Uh, wait!” Zoey said and pulled out her phone, “Uh, could I get your number? In case I need someone to talk to?”

“I guess. No calls though.”

“Okay,” Zoey stifled her disappointment in her glee and the gentle flame that flickered to life in her core. Texts were better than nothing. And besides, she thought as she entered Carmen’s name into her contacts, she got her number, “I’ll, uh, text you later. Okay?”

“Sure,” Carmen waved goodbye and strode off to the main building. Zoey followed her path and saw Dakota and Mary waiting at the entrance, none the worse for wear. She watched them go inside and headed back home. Anything Megan could say or do to her, Gretchen would triple it. And she was confident she could overcome Megan.

“Again. Easier said than done,” Zoey groaned. But she’d do it. Yes, she would. Without a doubt this time. The distasteful pain in her hand was her reminder, a medal that proved she’d graduated from the terrified Zoey she once was.

Zoey stopped at the foot of her home. It lacked any sign of life, but Megan secluded herself in her room, only leaving for necessities and to go out. The chances of her leaving on a weekday were slim, since her usual crowd would be at college, or trying to maintain a modicum of a healthy life. Without reason to leave, she would sit in her room, probably naked and fixated on her laptop, on the illusion she’d crafted. Zoey had stumbled upon her masquerading as some prestigious girl dozens of times in the past.

Why would she want a better life than this? Zoey wondered, for the umpteenth time. Their family wasn’t rich, but they were well enough. She clasped the doorknob, simple bronze painted in silver to stand out against the royal blue of the door. A two story house, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room and kitchen, and a set of parents able to provide whatever was needed. Yet Megan still wanted more.

It was night and day as Zoey passed old photos along the staircase. Depictions of a sweet and caring child, had decayed and formed a spiteful woman. Blonde curls had fallen into black streaks, the long, flowing dresses and skirts were cut, and her smooth skin was marred by tattoos. Zoey hadn’t changed much from the auburn haired, baby-faced child on the wall.

She had started as a typical kid, adventurous and uninhibited. Then she and Megan went to different middle-schools, and the bullying started. She never figured out why they targeted her, but they had. In a span of two years, she’d withdrawn into herself. Megan had been her sole refuge, until she turned against her as well.

She and Megan were friends once. A typical sisterly relationship, the older one mentored the child, kept her safe and told her what their parents wouldn’t. Like how to manipulate boys. Back when a lack of bust didn’t mean anything, they would wind-up every guy they met for fun, gossip about who liked who, or dare the other to go out with someone they didn’t like.

As she grew, Megan got curvier and her popularity spiked. They spent less time together. Megan was the boy’s girl, while Zoey ran around a field or kept to herself all day. Eventually, Megan decided she could be a model, based on how many guys drooled over her. It didn’t work out. All the agencies either told her she was too curvy, or not curvy enough. Even the more risqué ones turned her down.

On her last bid, she had Zoey with her. Zoey thought it was a possible resurgence in their relationship. They had gotten along fine then, but not as well as before. It all went downhill from there. Megan didn’t get the job, instead they tried to proposition Zoey, the skinny little sister, and she turned them down. That was the final straw it seemed.

It became obvious that any semblance of friendship was over. Megan chose to take pride in her figure, rightly so, but she took it too far. She lured every guy she could with her large tits, stole boyfriends, slept around, shamed anyone with a pant size smaller than ten, and paid special attention to Zoey. Every chance she got, she reminded her of how skinny the athlete was, or how she hadn’t had any boyfriends. Ever.

She peered around the corner, down the hall where her sister’s room oozed dread. Avoidance wasn’t cowardice, but strategy. Her… curse? Gift? Carmen did theorise that it came from a god, so maybe it was a gift. Either way, it wouldn’t trigger from this. She hoped.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t the same anymore. The timid girl, who ran track to escape her problems, was a memory, lost in the sea of others. Zoey toed the floor, checking for any loose boards that might rouse her sister. Nothing yet. She dragged her feet along the ground, keeping her weight distributed and ready to flee if needed. Another step without incident.

She reached for her door. One more step and she’d be safe, free to relax in private, away from Gretchen’s wrath and Carmen’s temptation. Megan’s door opened. Zoey’s head jerked in her direction and locked there, staring at the turn of fate. The elder sibling raised her head from her phone and smirked at the sight of Zoey, who glanced over her in dismay. Megan wore nothing but her underwear. Her bra was tight, forcing her breasts to overflow its cups.

“Hey there, sis,” Megan beamed and strode over, she exaggerated the natural sway of her plentiful hips, and came to a stop before the taller sibling, legs cocked to the side. Her panties dug deep into her lower curves, creating a slight muffin top. A damp smell caught Zoey’s attention. A familiar, sexual odour. She glanced to Megan’s crotch and noticed a darkness across her underwear.

“Hi,” Zoey said. She kept her thoughts secret, including the slight surge of pride at standing over Megan again. She could do this.

“What happened this time? Did that big, mean Gretchen pick on you again?”

“Yeah, then I punched her,” Zoey answered flatly.

Megan’s smile dropped, “What?”

“I punched her. She was a real bitch. Worse than you are,” Zoey explained. Her skin dimpled and muscles trembled, yet the welcome heat of growth kept her in place and pushed the words out.

“Good for you, Zoey. You finally stood up against a bully!” Megan patronised, “About time. Shame you couldn’t do that in grade school, when I had to rescue you. Remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. I also remember having to look after you when Nancy Cramer didn’t invite you to her birthday. I’m amazed you didn’t flood the house, you were crying so much.”

Megan’s expression turned sour, “Listen here you little shit! I don’t fucking care if you think you’re some hot bitch now because you punched someone. Big deal. I’ve clawed eyes out. You’re still a worthless cunt.”

“And what does that make you?!” Zoey shouted. She took a step forward and Megan backed away. Blood rushed to her face. No one had looked her this way. It wasn’t fear, nor was it contempt. She tried to comprehend it, but her words came first, “Well? I’ve done nothing to you. Except try to be your sister! Who’s been taking your shit for the last four years, huh?” The last past was mostly fuelled by Gretchen, but it applied all the same.

“Zoey,” Megan started.

“Shut it. I don’t care anymore, got it? I don’t care that you didn’t get to be a model, or that you think you have to fuck with everyone you meet. Megan,” Zoey took a deep breath. The heat was greater than ever, even more so than after she punched Gretchen. It wasn’t anger, she knew that as intimately as her family. “We’re sisters for fuck’s sake. You think I wanted you fail?”

Megan’s eyes and lips convulsed. She took a deep breath, anger in her eyes. Zoey focused on it, enforcing her own, years-old rage upon the seething emotion. Then Megan exhaled, her face relaxed and lowered.

“I’m sorry. Alright?” She said and moved around the athlete, down the stairs. Zoey stared after her.

“Thanks,” Zoey breathed and went into her room, where she crumpled atop her bed. It was a start, but everything had to begin somewhere. Even so, with the deprivation of adrenaline and the warmth, the weight of her words fell on her. All at once. She hadn’t punched Megan, but somehow it seemed worse than with Gretchen, “Because we’re sisters?” Zoey postulated aloud. Maybe. But Megan also wasn’t cruel without any reason behind it. She was hurt. The blonde queen of Saint Puella had nothing like that.

If she cared enough about Gretchen, she might’ve tried to figure out what it is that drove her. She didn’t. All she wanted from Gretchen was to be left alone. A request she wouldn’t heed. Jenna had done nothing but get them her called to an assembly, stealing less than an hour from her day. Hospital awaited Zoey if she showed her face anytime soon, or worse. She had never seen the blonde so furious before, though no one had punched her before.

Her return would be whole new territory. Yet another major change.

But she could do nothing about it now. She rolled onto her back and stretched her legs, sore after the constant sprinting, then smirked at her ceiling as her feet dangled off her mattress. Back to normal, she thought and sat up. They say people take things for granted, and she agreed as she stood to inspect her renewed form.

She was taller than normal. Zoey blinked as she looked around her room, hopeful that each flicker would reveal that she was imagining it all. That the ceiling wasn’t so low, that she couldn’t reach up and press her palm flat against it with ease. Her bookshelf had once stood on a level plain as her, now she could rest her chin atop it, and her bed seemed too small. A frown creased her skin.

This was good. She had towered above most girls at Saint Puella before, with Carmen being among the few exceptions, now she dwarfed them. Even Gretchen would think twice before messing with her. Zoey felt along her body, intent on making sure everything was as it should be.

Her legs were long and powerful as ever, still the core of her height. She bent to trace along the powerful muscle along her thigh, down her quads and calves, a grateful grin on her lips. The earlier struggle to outrun Holly was a hollow memory now. She flexed and smirked at the display of her prowess.

The muscle extended into her upper form. It hadn’t diminished when she shrank, rather it withdrew into her skin and kept her body in prime condition. Now it was free. Gentle curves and ridges carried across her stomach, pecs and into her arms. Her biceps bulged with strength and femininity, unlike those deranged bodybuilders she heard of, the ones that were more masculine than most men. And yet, unlike those women, she possessed a penis. An enviable advantage in their eyes.

She was still a girl, though. Zoey stripped down to make sure, anxiety high as she imagined slowly losing her sexual identity. She raised her male genitalia and saw her shy pussy peek out, its lips closed and curved up into the hood of her clit. A faint layer of juices glistened on her tight yet plump labia. Yes, she was a girl, first and foremost. She just had a cock too. A big, meaty dick more masculine than some she’d seen online.

Back on her bed, she studied it. Her thighs framed the shaft, a trinity of power. On either side, she saw muscle, and at the centre rested a veiny slab of meat, perched atop a pair of large balls. Her mons were bald, smooth as a worry stone.

“It’s smaller,” Zoey noted. Last night’s explosion of bliss crossed her mind and was followed by disappointment. She was flexible, but she would be lucky to the reach the head now. Even so, she looked larger than the first time she saw it, by a couple of inches she estimated. And still flaccid. She needed to know how it looked erect, and to get some release.

She shuffled back on her bed and leaned against the headboard. Zoey spread her thighs further and grabbed her member. It hung past her index finger. Anticipation sizzled beneath her skin.

An earlier fantasy barged into her thoughts, one of Gretchen, submissive to Zoey’s huge cock and covered in cum. The athlete stroked along her length, a motion that became easier with each day, stoking the flame of lust within it. Her prick swelled and pulsed with life. It spread her fingers wider, until her thumb and forefinger were separated. Though smaller than mere hours ago, no one would mistake it for small.

Zoey brought her second hand into the mix. As she stroked with one, the other explored, like a blind person familiarising themselves with a new element. Her fingertips traced vein upon vein. They splintered off into dozens of new paths, undulating with blood. Another vein, thicker than the rest, bulged along the bottom of her shaft. But they all lead to one place; the head. Her favourite part. Huge and spongy, it bulged from her shaft at a near-obscene angle, almost like a mushroom, and was a deep, lustful purple.

She squeezed toward the tip. A small pearl of pre-cum oozed from the precipice, then broke and streamed onto her fingers, warm and slimy. It streaked down her shaft as she sank, following the broad line along the bottom of her cock. Another bead poured out and down the top as she rose again. More gushed with every circuit, extra piled upon the already ample amount, until her throbbing, vein-riddled dick glistened in the dull light. The scent wafted from her length. A line of drool leaked from her lips.

Zoey hunched forward. Her short hair fell and grazed her cock’s peak. Hot, humid breaths broke against it and urged greater dollops of pre. She sniffed at it, sighing with every exhale. The mild perfume she wore was drowned in the musk. Strong and virile, masculine, yet infused with the delicate, spicy scent of her pussy. Her tongue lashed out, but couldn’t reach. She curled in further, lips puckered.

That stench… that disarming, controlling reek demanded that she taste it. She wanted to taste it, Zoey amended. What was she becoming, that it almost hurt not to suck her own dick, that she drooled at the mere smell of it? Any shame she might have felt was shoved aside. This was what she craved, no shame in that.

The shame was in her inability to fulfil her lust. She grunted and puckered her lips. They met the head, both soft and moist. Pre-cum burst across her mouth. She licked it clean and shuddered. This was a gift, no doubt about it. Even Gretchen couldn’t enjoy the taste of cum the way she did.

“Come on, just a little more,” Zoey breathed. Her cock twitched at her words, as if reaching for her as well, eager to bury itself in her gullet once more. Muscle and boned strained in unison, working together to attain her ultimate goal, all while her hands worked and doused themselves and her fingers in pre-cum. Her breath became cool on her spongy crown.

She reared back on her ass and lurched forward. Her lips spread, her tongue stretched, her cock slid across her slick muscle and into her maw. Zoey moaned in victory and sealed her mouth around it. Moisture and warmth surrounded her pulsating prick, a lush sanctuary for her cock to unleash its lewd treasure. Salty goo spilled across her taste buds and coated them. It oozed around her mouth and clung to her teeth.

Zoey suckled on the head. She couldn’t go lower, but this would work. Her tongue swirled across the sensitive peak, along the cleft where the glans met skin, lathering it in her spit and its own translucent gunk. Yoga and gymnastics waited in her future. She was sure of it.

She slid her lips along what she could reach. Fresh gouts of pre spurted at her attention. They splashed against the roof of her mouth and down her throat, setting off her gag reflex. Thick saliva dribbled down her length and mixed with the dick slime already there, creating a frothing mess over her shaft. Her veins throbbed harder and echoed in the head.

It wouldn’t be long before she came. Until then, she planned to savour all the sensations her new, lurid form could muster. And that meant using her cunt. Zoey’s trim nails crossed the plane of her testes, down and under them until they nestled against her sopping snatch, swollen with tempered lust. It opened around three fingers with ease, hungry for the attention.

She curled the digits and scratched at her tight, dripping walls. Her pinkie finger pressed flush against her engorged labia as her thumb toyed with the clit, sending shocks of delight buzzing throughout her nervous system. As her hand climbed her cock, she sank her fingers to the knuckle, faster with every repeat, until the slick noises saturated the room. She moaned and inhaled around her dick, turning her cheeks a striking convex shape.

“Yes, more… oh god, more,” Zoey mumbled around her dick. The vibrations travelled along its length, down into her stuffed sack. Her eyelids closed, shutting out any distraction, and left her thoughts to themselves.

Close as she was, Zoey only had one thing on her mind; pleasure. It took whatever form it desired, such was its role in life. Here, she saw Gretchen, eye still blackened, submissively nursing from her cock. A mess of spit and pre coated the blonde’s face. It sullied her once lush hair, turning it to a gross mass of matted locks. Soon it would be painted white in Zoey’s cum. She couldn’t say whether she produced enough for the job, but she longed to know.

Then another desire entered the mix. Her mind’s eye turned and saw Carmen behind her, huge, natural breasts on either side of Zoey’s head while she played with the futa’s rigid nipples. Creamy flesh, capped by ripe cherry-sized nipples, saturated Zoey’s sight. The busty honour student whispered unintelligible words to her. She didn’t need to understand them, only know their meaning.

“Cum. Cum. Cum.”

Zoey moaned louder and bucked her hips. Her moans rose higher until they were muffled shrieks, while her pussy clamped down on her fingers. She added a fourth to the slurry of juices and played rough with her clit. Every blissful pulsation worked its way to her cock. The flow of pre subsided. Her member twitched and lurched, thickening as it worked to stuff her fully.

The first wave of cum was always the best. Every inch of her cock was warmed by the flow, it swelled and the veins pounded against her tongue, before flooding her mouth. Zoey sputtered a the violent short. It splattered from her lips onto her crotch. She swallowed what she could before the next. Prepared, she devoured each drop. As if challenged, the next volley came faster. She managed, but the follow up was quicker still.

Before long, she could do little more than gag, moan and drool the excess onto her groin. Even so, her hands prolonged the blissful pleasure. Her pussy squelched around her fingers, leaking onto her bed, as she continued to jerk her cock. Both came in tandem, each sensation familiar yet alien in their delirious fusion.

The sky cleared, allowing sunlight to break through and bathe the world in its warm glow. Zoey giggled to herself, wondering if her orgasm had caused the sudden shift, still high on the post-orgasmic haze. Her chin, chest and crotch were all a mess, and her sheets were soaked. A casual sniff of the air imparted only the scent of pussy and cum. She’d sampled the mixture before, when she walked on in Gretchen after a night out.

None of her concerns broke past the afterglow. The fact that Gretchen would be out for blood, or that she had no idea how she would get her feelings across to Carmen, or how she would handle life as a mixed-gender athlete. Would they make something for trans people? Did that even apply to her?

It didn’t matter. The possibility was still a long ways off, far from her current bliss. She rolled her fingers around in the cooling, gooey mess on her skin. Some had landed on her breasts. They were meagre things, direct opposites to Megan’s lush pair, designed for a runner. But she wouldn’t mind a bit more. She hummed at the idea of wrapping her cock in a pair of plump tits as she sucked it, all while her hands focused on her pussy. Her dick also approved as it stiffened once more.

“What’s a refractory period?” Zoey giggled and grabbed it again. The skin was still sensitive, a bit sore, but she had no doubt a slow, gentle motion would be fine. She wondered how it would feel to have Carmen’s hand on it, touching and stroking her dick to orgasm after orgasm. Someday, Zoey promised herself. She glanced to her most recent pile of clothes and reached over to retrieve her phone. That day wouldn’t come without some extra work.

Hey, are you available after school?

She glanced at the time. Carmen would be in class. No matter how lax the teachers were in their punishment, she wouldn’t risk answering her phone. Not a problem. Zoey had the perfect means to pass the time. Her hand returned to her cock and resumed her languid strokes. The pleasure was different, like a slow burn rather than the sudden blaze she was familiar with. She toyed with her pussy as well.

Half an hour later, her phone pinged. She wiped her hand clean of her filthy juices and grabbed it.

Only for about an hour. I have work.

Zoey arched a brow at the text. How could Carmen maintain top marks and still have time to work? It didn’t seem feasible. Surely, she would be burnt out soon.

That’s okay. I just want to talk for a bit.

A lie. She longed to do so much more, to reveal her cock to Carmen and lose her virginity in the same moment. But that was pure lust. Zoey pushed the desires aside, rather, she focused them into her left hand as it continued to stroke her cock.

Sure. You know that coffee place a few blocks from the school? Soothe the Soul?

Zoey had seen it a few times, only in passing though. She didn’t care for coffee. Too bitter. But she would tolerate it for the sake of seeing Carmen again.

Yeah. Meet you there?

Yes. Class is starting. See you later.

Zoey set her phone down and stared at it, still with one hand on her shaft. Could this be considered a date? No, they weren’t girlfriends. She doubted Carmen would even want to date her. Everyone claimed she was a lesbian, through and through. Though no one had seen her even kiss a girl, or a boy. Perhaps she just didn’t have time for relationships? That seemed likely. She couldn’t fit a girlfriend in amongst the countless hours of work and study.

Then what were her chances? Zoey groaned and turned away from the device. Worrying wouldn’t change anything. She had several hours to kill before meeting with Carmen, and she fully intended to make use of them.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 17 - Out With It

Zoey sat in a quaint shop, a single cup of coffee before her. The table was small, adequate for two getting a drink or snack and not much else. Three others occupied the space around her, each with a single person sat at them. Behind the counter, the owner cleaned up or sampled her own product, giving a satisfied sigh with each intake. Several people passed by, glanced inside with longing, then hurried along in dissatisfaction. What were they expecting?

She wore her casual outfit. A plain, red shirt and purple summer jacket, while her cock was confined to her jeans, strapped to her thigh while her balls were nestled tight within her boxer shorts. Discerning eyes might recognise the bulge, but any passer-by would ignore it. Still, she kept her lower body concealed under the table.

Five minutes to go before Carmen was supposed to arrive. Anticipation flashed at the thought of the stunning honour student, yet worry nipped at her excitement, as it always did. The beast was shackled, unable to crush her lap under anxiety’s weight, though that made it no less powerful. Any number of things could go wrong after all.

Carmen might not show up, for one. Someone from school might see them and report back to Gretchen, who would show up a minute later for revenge. Perhaps Carmen would come, only to be called in for work early. No, that was ridiculous. Carmen wasn’t the kind of person to stand someone up, and Gretchen would still be nursing her face after that punch. Hatred and delight tickled the skin of her knuckles, as if urging her to do it again. She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to repeat that moment over and over, and take it further. Despite the disgusting sensation it left in her.

Dread yanked her stomach to the lowest depths. That couldn’t happen. It was a miracle the principal hadn’t already called to expel her, anything more than earlier and she would be. Without a doubt. That, also, couldn’t happen. Not yet.

Why did she worry anyway? It’s not a date. It’s not a date. Zoey repeated the sentence over and over in her mind, engraving it into her psyche. Even so, the odd flutter in her stomach as it wavered between plummeting into nothingness and vaulting into the open kept her on edge. The earlier satisfaction and release she’d felt from masturbating was gone.

Zoey glanced to her phone. Two minutes. She straightened her back, leaned into the chair and clutched her undrunk coffee. Caffeine was poison to a runner, an unnatural energy that became a crutch. She stared outside, watching for the standout beauty and intelligence that she pined for, and spotted her.

Marvellous. Gorgeous. Stupendous. Zoey ran through all the synonyms, hoping to find something that matched the girl who stepped inside, a wisp of air playing with her locks of dark blonde resplendence, while her chest wobbled like two rippling oceans. Her eyes stopped there. It was one thing to stare at someone’s face, especially when their eyes were a startling sapphire hue, but their body was another.

“Hey,” Carmen said and sat opposite Zoey, sinking into the lucky chair.

“Hey,” Zoey replied. She cleared her throat and looked to her coffee, still steaming hot, “So, uh, how was school?”

“Same old, same old,” Carmen said, glancing to the front. Zoey followed her gaze and saw the owner grinning back. She was a hefty women, with a plump middle and even plumper breasts, as if all her fat had tried to go for her curves, but ran out of room.

“Gretchen give any trouble?”

“The usual,” Carmen reiterated. A hardness crept into her voice, “She picked on me, Mary and Dakota a bit. But it was pretty spread out. Rumour has it she stripped a girl in the gym.”

“Yeah,” Zoey sank into her chair, “She did.”

“God, she needs a kick up the ass,” Carmen said, then, as if a switch was flipped, the edge in her voice dissipated, “Hi, Stacy.” Zoey looked up and saw the owner by their side, who peered over the shelf that was her bosom. What size was she? Even Gretchen’s pair didn’t match up.

“Afternoon, Carmen. You should’ve mentioned you were meeting a friend here. I’d have given her my special blend,” Stacy said, beaming at the pair. Zoey looked away. It was too bright, like staring into the sun.

“What special blend?” Carmen asked.

“You’ll find out later. Wink, wink.”

“You don’t have to say ‘wink, wink’ you know?”

“Yes.” It was her imagination, but Zoey swore she heard the woman’s smile widen, “Anyway, this one’s on the house. So enjoy.” The sweet owner, whose every atom seemed to screech bubbliness, left after setting a cup down before Carmen, who took a long sip of it.

“You drink coffee?” Zoey asked.

“Only Stacy’s,” Carmen said, grinning, “The usual blends are disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded, a terse smile on her lips. That’s another thing they had in common, on top of their mutual disdain for Gretchen. There had to be more, though. A relationship couldn’t be built on shared dislikes. Zoey stiffened and sank her head low, cheeks ablaze. To hide her thoughts, she took a long drag on the coffee and stopped an instant later. It was sweet, the bitterness buried underneath something thick. A dense cream, perhaps, though she’d never had one so sweet. It must be high in fat, she thought. Doesn’t matter, she decided and drank another mouthful.

“Good, right?” Carmen inquired.

“Y-yeah,” Zoey said.

“Told you,” Carmen chuckled and took another drink of her own, “So, what did you want to talk about, anyway?”

“Oh, uh… just wanted to talk, really.”

Carmen shrugged, “If you’re sure.”

“So, um, what’s up with you, Mary and Dakota?” Zoey asked and snapped at herself in her mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know? They just started hanging out with you all a sudden, right after Mary’s… thing got out.”

“Coincidence,” Carmen answered an instant too soon. Something flashed in her eyes, another something within that. They concealed each other, like soldiers making a tactical retreat.

“Sorry, that was rude,” Zoey said, a wave of cold swept over her and the world grew. Not enough that she would’ve noticed yesterday, but she was attuned to it now.

“No, I’m sorry for snapping like that,” Carmen said. That’s snapping? Zoey blinked at the girl and laughed.

“If it was Gretchen, she would’ve shouted at me until she was blue. That’s what she calls snapping.”

“Let me guess, she calls slapping someone a high five?”

“Pretty much,” Zoey giggled.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Carmen said.


“I know Gretchen’s type. They’re horrible and seem like the strongest bitch around. That is until someone comes along and puts them on their ass. It’s simple instinct really. She’ll snap and snarl, but won’t fight back anymore. Not unless she can get a pack together. Really, Gretchen’s more a dog than you’d think. That’s why she kept you around her, but kept you under the impression that you’re weak. I’d call her an overweight Chihuahua that feels like it needs to dominate everything,” Carmen said, “Now that she’s gotten a taste of a real dog’s bite, she won’t try anything without a bigger pack.”

“Sounds like something out of Dog Whisperer,” Zoey said.

“Might be. I used to watch it with my dad,” Carmen grinned and took another gulp of her drink, “My mom’s allergic to dogs, so when I was little, he’d pretend to be the dog and I’d be Cesar Millan. I always wound up riding him around the house.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was.”

Zoey didn’t ask what happened. Carmen’s gaze lingered on nothing, as if the coffee shop scenery was a phantom. Whatever she saw – a home, happy and loving, perhaps? – brought out a sorrow in her eyes, one that intensified her beauty. It was vulnerability, a chance for Zoey to take charge and comfort her, perhaps insert herself as a potential girlfriend. But she remained motionless, quiet and patient as Carmen left her memory.

“So, uh, I’ve got a big race coming up,” Zoey said.

“Oh?” Carmen arched an eyebrow, “Leave it to the school not to advertise it.”

“Well, it’s not that big. It’s more like a local thing, a warmup. If I win, though, I might get to participate in bigger events.”

“Or get scouted,” Carmen said, “No one knows who watches these things.”

“I doubt it,” Zoey said, “Even if I do well, they’ll look into my history.”

“They won’t care what Gretchen made you do. People like that only want results.”

“It’s not that. I’ve never won a race before. Or even topped,” Zoey said.

“How?” Carmen blinked at the statement.

“I… uh… just never did.”

Carmen let it go. She took several gulps of coffee, as did Zoey, before going wide-eyed, “Sorry, Zoey. My shift starts in a few seconds.”

“Wait!” Zoey blurted as Carmen stood, lashing out to grasp her by the wrist. The position had her leaning forward, face an inch shy of the honour student’s captivating bust. Her masculinity cried out for her to close that distance and get a feel for how soft those mounds were, to sample them before she sank too far into her infatuation. It went unheeded.

“Um, I was wondering, uh, if you… and I could go… go out? Like, on a date?” Each word was a struggle. She forced them out through sheer willpower, despite the frantic quiver building in her legs. Carmen blushed and slipped free.

“Sorry, I’m already dating someone. See you tomorrow,” the stacked teen said and walked away. She didn’t turn back, which was just as well, since it allowed Zoey to stare, frustrated and intoxicated, at Carmen’s delicious rear. Each cheek rose and fell with her steps, hypnotic. She stepped behind the counter and hugged the owner, whose monumental chest mashed into Carmen’s. They lingered for longer than any normal co-workers would.

Zoey downed the last of her coffee and left. She returned home, intent on masturbating to relieve her frustrations. Give her a break! How was it that she still couldn’t get what she wanted? She’d punched Gretchen, talked to Carmen and even broached the subject of a relationship, and still she was unattainable. Not in the sense of a celebrity. Carmen was simply taken.

How could Zoey compare to someone like that shop owner? The athlete was exactly as her speciality needed her to be. She was slender and strong, curveless save for a gentle swell to her hips and breasts. It was sad to say, but the curviest portion of her body was her cock and balls. That owner wouldn’t have one. She couldn’t. That alone was Zoey’s sole advantage. But Carmen was gay, that much was obvious. She likely didn’t have any interest in someone with a dick.

There were plenty of others, though. Zoey told herself as she shut the front door to her home. Open mindedness was everywhere now. Dozens of women would want to at least experience a relationship with her, if nothing else but to brag about how endowed Zoey is. She only needed to put herself out there, on a dating site for weird fetishes or something, or sneak into a lesbian bar and pull in someone.

Gretchen made sex sound like the greatest time of her life. That would distract her from Carmen. If she found someone who loved her, cock and all, then why would she need her? Zoey would forget about the honour student. Forget about her supple curves, how her scrappy clothes drew all the attention to her gorgeous face, the sculpted nose, plush lips and fathomless eyes. She’d even forget the fantasies of Carmen’s naked form.

“Fuck!” Zoey snapped and ran to her room. Porn. That would solve it. She just had to find a star even more beautiful than Carmen, someone to captivate her. Even if they were unreachable, it was better than lusting after someone so close.

“Something wrong?”

Zoey stopped at her door and looked to Megan, who stood in the hallway, a recently used bowl in hand. The older sister was dressed as lazily as ever; a tank top that ended at her ribcage and a pair of loose sweatpants, too long for her legs.

“No,” Zoey said, thankful for the annoyance pervading her thoughts. Even lacking her usual malice, Megan intimidated her.

“I’ve known you all your life. I know when something’s up,” Megan said and set the bowl down. She clapped a hand on Zoey’s back and pushed her into the room, then led her to the bed, “So, what’s up?” Megan asked. She sat down and leaned back, eyes on her younger sibling.

“Don’t act like you care.”

“Alright. What’s up?”

“Why do you want to know?” Zoey said, a glint of anger seeping into her tone. One apology didn’t mean Megan could act like a sister again. Not so suddenly. It didn’t make sense. At all.

“Guilt?” Megan shrugged and fell back to lay atop Zoey’s bed, stretching her shorter, curvier form, “I dunno. Just figured I’d quit being the bitch here. Looks like you want to try it out.”

“What?” Zoey blinked and raised her eyes from Megan’s body. How long had she been staring? In lieu of an answer, her cock throbbed within her jeans, shoving against the strap. A shudder of revulsion sprinted down her spine. Unnatural urges hissed within her mind. Eve had been tempted by one snake, now Zoey felt as if a hive of the slithery bastards were coiling within her thoughts, all whispering to her. All commenting that Megan might be that woman to distract her. The taboo only made it better.

“Never mind,” Megan said and sat up. She hunched forward, unencumbered breasts falling to her thighs, mashing into them. Creamy flesh bulged from the sides of her top, smooth and enticing, like the most decadent sundae Zoey had seen, “It’s a boy, isn’t it?”

“Um,” Zoey twisted away from her.

“A girl?” Megan asked. Not teased. No, her voice was soft, understanding. Zoey peeked back at her, and away again instantly, “Hey, it’s alright. I’m bi anyway, so I get it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zoey said, thoughts flashing to the infrequent times when two women were moaning in Megan’s room, without any boys around. Back then, she’d felt indifferent to her sister’s constant flow of lovers, and still did about the guys, but the women were another matter. Her stomach flopped and her cock stiffened as she imagined how another pussy might feel. How it would taste. How it would look bathed in spunk.

Worst of all, she didn’t imagine her sister’s friends now. All she saw was Carmen. Or Megan. Or, worse yet, Gretchen. Those two were always together.

“If you need someone to talk to about it, let me know. People always give us crap,” Megan said, “Even if you already slept with them. I had this one chick from high school, horrible personality, incredible lay. She went around telling everyone what a fucking carpet muncher I was. She was partly right, just omitted how often she joined me. But I digress. The point is, I know people are assholes and they always will be. So… I get it.”

“Thanks,” Zoey said, still turned away. Megan sighed and left, unaware of her younger sister’s eyes watching her ass leave the room. Door shut, alone and breathless under the weight of her swelling desires, Zoey unbuckled her belt and freed her cock, then bound it with her hand. Few things compared to the heft of holding a dick, one over a foot in length and a matched in girth, while her pussy engorged and leaked. She slid a hand under her sweaty balls and entered her snatch as she stroked her length. Until dinner, she was devoted to her body.

Tomorrow came sooner than she wanted. Sleep came and went like a fantasy, the kind that was so great but elusive that she tried to latch onto, only to miss each time. What little sleep she got was swiftly interrupted by another errant fantasy. It fled by the time she woke up, leaving its mark on her sheets. Her cock, despite having cum almost a dozen times that day, refused to go soft during the night.

It was Carmen’s fault. And Megan’s, and Gretchen’s. They wouldn’t leave her thoughts be. One moment, her consciousness coasted on the memory of running, the next second and she was suddenly facing Carmen, Megan or Gretchen. Sometimes all three. Lewdness tainted everything from there.

They’d make out with her, or one another or skip it and strip for Zoey’s viewing pleasure. If she was under at the time, the dream would persist until she was on the verge of orgasm, then she woke up. She refused to masturbate, even as her cock throbbed and twitched, trapped on the brink, determined to get some sleep.

Now she walked downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a dull thud. She’d almost forgotten to put on sweatpants to hide her phallus. Her parents were already gone, having been called in early, leaving her the company of Megan, who occupied herself with a bowl of cereal. The lazy sister was dressed for socialising; a low cut shirt, push-up bra and a pair of shorts designed to hug her curves.

“Plans for today?” Zoey asked as she dragged the box and a bowl toward her.

“Got a job interview,” Megan said.

Zoey blinked, “You?”

“I’ve been looking. I told you ‘I’m done being the bitch’. So, it’s work for me, and maybe a boyfriend too,” Megan said, winking at her sister. Anger bubbled beneath Zoey’s skin, not at her sister for turning over a new leaf so abruptly – that was a welcome change, even if it might turn out to be false – but for the idea of some boy having her. Sleep deprivation and denying herself an orgasm for the entire night were taking their toll.

“Hmm,” Zoey stood and grabbed the milk, hoping to hide her emotions.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” Megan asked, coming to the nearby sink. An arm’s length separated them. Zoey sniffed and caught her sister’s perfume, a blend of mango and lime she believed. It was Zoey’s favourite from when they were younger, even now she still enjoyed the smell.

“No,” Zoey said and rubbed at the crust still around her eyes. She shot a quick sidelong glare at her sibling, who, though unintentionally, had disrupted her sleep time and again.

“I know a few yoga poses that help with it,” Megan said, and added, “No, really. They work.”

“Uh huh,” Zoey mumbled and returned to the table to eat her breakfast. Megan came to stand behind her, “What’re you… oh!” Megan’s hands found her shoulders and worked them, massaging all the tension from her muscles. Since when did her sister know this? A pleasant sigh escaped Zoey’s lips as she relaxed. It might have been forced on her, but the sense of leisure was welcome all the same.

Megan’s hands slipped lower, across her shoulder blades and to the bunched up muscles at the base of her spine. Zoey slouched forward, breakfast forgotten.

“I know a lot of massages,” Megan said, leaning down to press her ponderous chest into Zoey’s back, lips close to the athlete’s ears, “I’ve been trying them out on some friends. They always… come back for another.”

“Yeah?” Zoey sighed.

“Especially when I do… this,” Megan’s magical fingers left her skin and danced across Zoey’s stomach, down to her thighs. Before she could snap her legs shut, Megan’s fingertip brushed the bulge of her cock. The two separated. Zoey remained frozen in her chair, eyes bulging in terror. A clear space of milk reflected her expression, and that of Megan from behind her.

“What the fuck, Zoey?” Megan asked. She wasn’t angry, or her voice didn’t betray any. Rather, it sounded like she was hurt.

“What, uh… what do you mean?” The familiar chill was back. Her body was shrinking.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Megan grabbed the chair and turned it around, scraping across the floor.

Zoey forced her head up, clawing against the chains her fear shackled her with. She expected fury, cruelty or at least horror on her sister’s face. Not the hurt or betrayal that was present instead.

“You should’ve told me,” Megan said and pulled her own chair close, “When’d you start transitioning?”

“I… Megan, do you really think I’d still look like this and have a penis?” Zoey frowned, uncertain of her sister’s intelligence.

Megan shrugged, “I’ve heard of stranger things.”

“I guess,” Zoey mumbled. The chill was fading.

“So, when were you planning to tell mom and dad?”

“Never,” Zoey said, “I’m not… I’m not trans.”

“All I know is, I remember you being a girl last time I saw you naked, and now I definitely felt a dick. So what happened? Take some steroids or something?”

“No!” Zoey snapped, “I’m still a girl. I’m still me. I just have a penis now.”

“Prove it,” Megan said.

“Prove what?”

“That you’re still a girl. You’ve gotta still have a vagina to be girl, right?”

“There’re shemales.”

“Yeah, but they’re more like girly boys who identify as women. I spend a lot of time on the internet, Zoey. I know my shit.”

“Can’t always trust the internet,” Zoey said.

“True. So, you gonna prove it?” Megan urged.

“I… fine,” Zoey sighed, defeated. Maybe if she showed this off and Megan reverted to her old, abusive self then any desire she felt would disappear? She hoped so.

Zoey stood and turned away, then dropped her pants. She didn’t have any underwear on; they kept getting soaked in pre-cum during the night. Only as she bent over, legs slightly parted, that she questioned why she gave in so easily. She had nothing to prove to Megan, or to herself, and it wasn’t fear that made her reach back to part her cheeks. Then what?

Megan answered her unspoken question with a soft gasp. Warmth returned to Zoey. She swallowed a hum of approval as embers spread throughout her form. They were flickers of pride and growth, the former almost as familiar as when she shrank. Satisfied, Zoey stood and faced her sister, who clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Happy?” Zoey asked.

“I… yeah. Yeah, I am. Jesus, where’d you hide that thing?”

Zoey didn’t answer. She forced her face into a flat expression, betraying none of the rising embarrassment and traitorous desire bubbling inside, as she pulled her pants back up. Now someone knew. It was inevitable, of course, but she’d hoped it would be Carmen, or at least someone she felt could be trusted. Rachel was a close second.

“Hey! I was looking at that,” Megan complained and went for Zoey’s pants, but the athlete, her body restored and augmented, danced away from her. It was a hopeless endeavour on Megan’s part, though she was nothing if not persistent. She chased Zoey throughout the kitchen, trying to cut her off, failing, then attempting another tactic. None worked in the face of Zoey’s athleticism, as she sashayed around Megan’s grabbing hands. Before long, both forgot the point and were laughing.

“Ugh, fine! You win, you win!” Megan said and slumped into a chair. A smile clashed with her brattish tone. Zoey also sat, reciprocating the grin. Sweat gleamed on their skin, it sucked their clothes to their skin, highlighting each other’s figures, though Megan’s was superior in curves.

“Come on, just let me see it again. I’ve never seen one that big before,” Megan said.

Zoey was on a high. She was winded from running in short bursts, heart palpitating in her chest and endorphins sailing through her veins. But that wasn’t the reason for her grin, or why she relented once more. They’d chased each other like that when they were kids, sometimes to rescue a toy or just for the fun of it, and Megan had always won. By the time Zoey outgrew her, Megan had ended the game. Any attempt to resuscitate it on Zoey’s part went unheeded. It inspired a new credence to Megan apparent reformation.

So she dropped her pants once more and let Megan have her fun. The older sister scooted closer and leaned down to inspect the slab of meat, for it lacked any better description. Zoey hadn’t seen any others herself, only a few online, even so she knew they didn’t compare to hers. Not when the covered crown rested halfway down her thigh. On her legs that meant more than most.

She couldn’t guess how tall she was, but it was safe to bet her legs were at least three feet long. From hip to knee was about a foot and a half of space, and her phallus hung at half that. Approximately nine inches of flaccid masculinity made feminine by virtue of being attached to her form. Zoey’s smirk widened.

Megan cursed under her breath as she studied it, hands coiling over each other with a barely restrained desire to touch it. She had plenty of lovers to her name, yet she was overwhelmed by this single cock, attached to her sister no less. For the moment, it laid dormant. An elegant network of blue veins worked underneath the thick skin, ready and waiting for an inevitable erection, all leading to the uncircumcised head. They began from the base, where a set of terrifying balls rested.

“I thought trannies were supposed to be small,” Megan said.

“I’m not a tranny. You know that,” Zoey said, watching her. The elation had faded now, replaced with confusion at her sibling’s closing proximity. Still, she didn’t move, even as Megan’s breaths reached her member. If they were together in that way, Zoey wouldn’t have a chance to worry over her feelings for Carmen, or about any other relationship. They’d be sneaking around everywhere, covering for one another, taking comfort at night or when they were together and no one knew them.

It didn’t sound like a bad idea. They were sisters, so they knew each other better than most couples ever could, and they already lived together. Solace from stress or Gretchen was one door down from her room. If they were together like that.

“Megan…” Zoey said and stopped, seeing the phone in Megan’s hand. The elder sibling leaned back and snapped a picture, just as the horror of it all dawned on Zoey, her face going slack as she stared at the lens.

“Can’t wait to post this,” Megan giggled, “What’ll everyone think when they see my sister’s so fucking hung.”

“Don’t!” Zoey shouted and lashed out. She stood, reaching for the phone. Her fingers brushed it, but her pants caught around her ankles and tripped her. The tiled floor halted her crash with a loud smack. Her vision swam and recovered. It wasn’t a serious fall; her hand had caught her just in time.

“Sorry, already done. Thanks for sharing sis,” Megan said and strolled out. The front door opened and shut.

Zoey put her phone on silent. It was a few minutes after Megan had posted it, but already her phone was blaring with notifications, mostly from Twitter, compliments of Gretchen’s followers. Another minute later and she deleted the app. Everyone knew. Not just the school, but all the college kids Megan talked to, and even their parents. That meant questions, doctor appointments, possibly being withdrawn from the race on Wednesday next week.

Anxiety didn’t linger for long, however. The beast curled into a ball in its cage, embracing its new shackles like a koala, as another monster stepped into the space of Zoey’s mind. It wasn’t a dog. No, this was a wolf. It didn’t curl in her lap, didn’t adore her. It was there to fuel her emotions then leave.

Zoey got dressed and headed for school. Carmen had told her to stay out for a couple of days, to avoid Gretchen, but Gretchen was exactly who she wanted to see. The sooner the better. Everyone knew Zoey by reputation, not as a runner, but as the principal’s daughter’s Pitbull. That was gone, of course. What kind of queen bee could tolerate being associated with someone like her? So she intended to lay that rumour to rest, and perhaps spark a new one.

As what? Some kind of valiant hero who fought against Gretchen’s tyranny? Absolutely not. This was for herself. If Gretchen thought she was still a pushover, then that needed to be rectified. Even she wouldn’t go after someone who could defend themselves, hence why the few students who took martial arts classes were left alone.

“Zoey Parker, the principal wants to see you,” a teacher told her after she stepped inside. Zoey scowled down at them, but headed to the office. Getting expelled made it even better. One less thing to worry about when she saw Gretchen. People sneered at her and she returned the expression. Fire crackled within each of her extremities, elongating them, empowering her.

“You wanted to see me?” Zoey asked, stepping into Principal Blake’s office. It was a mess, wholly unlike the intimidating organisation she expected. Papers were scattered about the floor and the bookshelves along the walls had mismatched collections along the rows. At its centre was a desk, the epicentre of disruption. Principal Blake sat there, haggard and slouched forward, head in her hands.

“Yes, thank you, Zoey,” she said and straightened her back. Heavy bags lined her eyes, like brutal bruises a boxer might own, “Take a seat. Now, the reason I called you here, is that picture.” Zoey said nothing. The simmering well of anger kept her controlled.

“It doesn’t exist,” Principal Blake said, though her voice was more a sigh now, as if she was caught between speaking and yawning at all times, “You’re going to race next week. You’re going to win.”

“Why?” Zoey asked. Her expressionless mask cracked a bit, revealing the confusion underneath.

“This school needs some notoriety. It’s on the verge of closure,” the principal said, gaze sweeping over the mess of paperwork, “Aside from you and Carmen and Gretchen, we have no exceptional students. So, I need…”

“You realise Gretchen isn’t here most days, right?” Zoey said. The words escaped her like bile.

“What? Of course she is. Her attendance is perfect.”

Zoey was too far in now. If she could convince Principal Blake of Gretchen’s disgusting nature, then everything might improve, “Ma’am, you’re being taken advantage of. Gretchen’s here for maybe an hour every day. I should know. She drags me around with her. Ever wondered why your credit cards are always rejected?”

“No, that’s not right,” Principal Blake sifted through a drawer, a deep frown highlighting the wrinkles of her face. She looked older than forty, closer to her mid or later fifties. Grey streaks ran through her hair, and her sunken eyes were framed in deep, solemn lines.

“Don’t bother,” Zoey sighed, “Sorry. May I go now?”

“Uh, yes. Thank you,” Principal Blake said and hunched forward, relieved to have one task over with. She looked ready to pass out the moment she got too comfortable. Zoey left before her pity could overwhelm her patient rage.

What was Gretchen putting that women through? Zoey wondered as she strolled down the hall, heading to Gretchen’s first, and usually only lesson, of the day. People didn’t age like the principal without considerable stress, which didn’t come from simply running a dying school. There was no sign that she was working to revitalise the place beyond her daughter’s selfish demands.

“You little fucking shit!” That venom was as famous as any cobra’s. Zoey turned in the hall and abandoned her thoughts to see Gretchen a few feet away, backed by half a dozen girls. They were the biggest in the school, which didn’t say much. No one in Saint Puella was allowed to go overweight. Another reason it was failing.

Zoey pulled the leash from her rage. She’d allowed it to surface briefly yesterday, when she had punched Gretchen, almost breaking her nose in the process. A faint bruise marked where her fist had landed. Zoey strode over to the group, glad that Rachel wasn’t among them. Aside from Gretchen, they were the tallest in the school, all of them an inch or two below six feet.

One had broad shoulders and defined arms, another possessed a cruel sneer and clear abs, the rest followed a similar vein. They were pulled together at the last minute. For one purpose. The dog that was Zoey’s anxiety whimpered at the promise of pain that awaited her, but the massive wolf howled in jubilation. It was a fighter. Blood, pain and exhilaration were what it craved. And here stood seven willing sacrifices to give it exactly that.

One opened her mouth. Zoey pushed aside any doubt, she wouldn’t get expelled, not when Principal Blake needed her to win that race, and punched. She’d taken a couple of boxing classes in middle school, when the bullying got worse. It didn’t take. She always ran and hid from the fights, so she settled for track. Even so, she still remember how to throw a punch.

One of the pack fell in shock. Another went to tackle Zoey and got a fist in the face. Then the rest were on her, Gretchen on the side lines, kicking whenever Zoey presented the opportunity. It wasn’t the drawn out beating that some movies portrayed. This was over in seconds. Zoey was helpless against six scrappy girls, plus one spoiled brat. They soon knocked her unconscious, though not before she’d left several of their faces bloody and swollen.


Zoey opened her eyes and squinted. She was in a bed, looking at a filthy ceiling that was once white. There was no one around to clean it, not since the janitorial staff were fired. One remained, but one elderly man wouldn’t do much. This was the nurse’s room, though it was a dismal representation. One bed, no privacy or door, and no nurse. She only worked three days a week, sometimes two.

But there was someone there. Zoey frowned and focused on them. It was Carmen. Of course it was. Who else would help her? Rachel was stuck maintaining appearances as Gretchen’s friend, and Ashley was no better. Mary or Dakota might’ve helped, though.

“Hey,” Zoey said.

“So much for laying low, huh?” Carmen teased. Zoey was silent. She swept her gaze across Carmen’s form, drinking her in like a plant after a drought. What god decided that this girl should be so beautiful, so smart and caring that she would drive Zoey to get into a fight?

“What happened?” Carmen asked.

“I got angry,” Zoey stated.

“I noticed,” Carmen said, “I tried stepping in, but half the school was there.”

“Thanks,” Zoey said and turned away.

“Why’d you go mad?”

“No reason.”

“Okay,” Carmen said, her tone doubtful, “You’ve gotten a lot bigger, I see.”

“What?” Zoey snapped her head around, then looked down at herself. Her arm was a in a sling, not broken, but it would be a few days before it healed. There were no other injuries of that nature that she could see. Even so, her height change overshadowed any pain. Her feet hung off the bed, and she was sat up. Granted, the bed was small, a throw away from a paediatrician’s office.

“I’d say about seven feet,” Carmen said, answering the question Zoey hadn’t thought of yet.

Zoey didn’t have words for it, “Whoa,” came out, yet it didn’t aptly describe the scene before her.

“I’ve gotta go. Second period is starting soon.”

“Carmen, wait!” Zoey said and reached out, grabbing the honour student’s hand. She released it an instant later, “I… Look, I know you’re with someone and everything, but… I love you.” Perhaps the hesitation had been knocked from her brain in the fight, or maybe the wolf had imprinted some of itself on the dog, regardless of the reason, she had finally said them; those words that had tormented her for just a few days that felt like years.

“Zoey,” Carmen said and looked around, as if for a script or something, “Look, I’m flattered, but it’s not… Sorry. The thing is, I’m only in the relationship I have right now because it works for me. I can’t afford to take time off work or studies for dates. I can’t talk on the phone. I can’t even text freely. That’s my situation. Stacy and I work together, so I can see and talk to her pretty much whenever without losing anything. And I need school to study. If I was with something else, well, I don’t see it working.”

“I know,” Zoey said and looked down at herself, “Have you heard the rumour about me?”

“What rumour?”

“That I have a dick,” Zoey said and glanced at Carmen. Shock flitted across her face, but not the same way it had for Megan. This was a different expression of surprise, not the kind meant for a stunning reveal such as Zoey’s, but rather a shock that she would freely admit it. Or was it not that amazing? Mary had one after all. Did having a cock mean nothing anymore?

“Do you?” Carmen asked, sooner than most might have.

“Yes,” Zoey whispered, still unsure what to make of Carmen’s response.

“Why tell me?” Carmen asked.

“Because you… because you’re the only one I can trust, besides Rachel. You don’t make fun of people. I’ve seen you. You helped Mary and Dakota. No one else did. Do you have any idea how few people like you there are?” Zoey asked, and took her hand again, this time holding it firm.

Her words were both an affirmation to herself that Carmen was somehow perfection made human, and an attempt to justify why she was so infatuated. Who wouldn’t be when faced with someone so kind? So merciful they’d help people who once tormented them? So beautiful that even the anger that had contorted her features when they first met couldn’t hide it?

“I’m not a good person,” Carmen said, so soft Zoey almost missed it. A flash of guilt clouded her dazzling eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Zoey affirmed. Something within urged her to grip harder, to squeeze out every drop of sorrow that tainted this stunning woman. No, they didn’t taint her, Zoey thought. Those eyes wallowed in something like sorrow, but it wasn’t. It was beauty as well. Part of her wondered if Carmen was incapable of anything less, another argued why she should even care.

“Fine,” Carmen said and withdrew her hand, “I’m a good person. What’s your point?”

“Nothing,” Zoey said, “I just wanted you to know how I felt. Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

That got a different reaction. Carmen’s hands jerked toward her face, froze part way and dropped. A slight smile graced her lips.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Carmen said, “That said… I’m not above bribery.”

“What do you mean?”

“Win that race next week, and you’ll see.”

“That’s not really bribery is it?”

“It is, but think of it as more of an incentive. Even if you get given a hard time, you’d better win. I’ll give you a reward,” Carmen said, a subtle flare in her eyes. Not of anger or shame, but of seduction.

Zoey’s cock twitched beneath the covers. She chuckled as Carmen left the room, “How can I say no?”


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 18 - Breaking Point

“She’s avoiding me,” Carmen said, sipping at her coffee. She was sat in Stacy’s office once more, both taking their slight reprieve from the first rush of the day, though neither could afford to take long. In the last week, the flood of customers had worsened, as had their insistence that Carmen be front and centre. Stacy had said business on Carmen’s off-days was pitiful by comparison.

“This Zoey girl?” Stacy asked, sighing into her own steaming cup.

“Yeah. I’m not sure what it is,” Carmen shook her head, “Well, I kind of do.” She glanced at her girlfriend, despite only having one date thus far, and grimaced at the guilt she felt. Zoey’s attraction to her was her fault. It never would have come to fruition without the Futa Note.

“She’s into you, isn’t she?”


“Honey, I’m not blind. Nor am I worried,” Stacy said and set her drink aside to lean forward. They were close, chairs side by side and legs touching. It was the best intimacy either could hope for until Stacy could get another day off, which neither could guess. The rent had gone up for the property, as had the prices on ingredients, and the oversaturation of customers on Carmen’s shifts left both exhausted. All Stacy’s time was devoted to keeping track of everything.

But physical intimacy wasn’t the cause for Carmen’s love for her. It was amazing to kiss and hold her, to taste the milk that weighed heavily on Stacy’s chest, and to come within reach of going all the way. The tease was horrible yet marvellous, leaving Carmen with her libido blazing and her self-control strained.

“You’re a good woman. I doubt you’d cheat on me. Not that I’m really opposed to it,” Stacy said.

“What?” Carmen asked, certain that she’d misheard her boss. The answer would wait. The second rush was coming, lecherous eyes combing the surroundings for Carmen. Rather, her tits. She couldn’t blame them. On anyone else, she would have done much the same, though she would be far subtler. Some didn’t even try to steal glances at her chest, instead they just gawked at her as they ordered the same thing as always. They left healthy tips at least.

An hour later and the rush had stemmed into droplets of wonderers. Carmen slouched against the counter, sighing and scowling as her breasts were squished and the weight on her back relieved. They popped out from her ragged shirt, which hung too low to conceal her abundance of cleavage. Just the shirt was enough to gird her breasts enough to form the crevice, though she lacked a bra.

“Don’t worry about Zoey,” Stacy said while she organised some cups, ready for the prospect of another onslaught, “She’s probably just dealing with her own feelings right now. Being gay in high school can’t be easy.”

“No, it’s not,” Carmen agreed, though middle school was as bad, if not worse.

“So, uh,” Stacy cleared her throat, “I’ve been hiring lately and I might have a couple of new recruits coming in soon.”

“Oh?” Carmen arched her eyebrow and turned to face her. The shop floor was empty, but neither expected it to remain that way for long. Even so, a moment to enjoy their relationship was welcome. Regardless of how fleeting it was. Stacy also faced her, full face glowing with a nervous grin.

“That means I might be able to schedule a few vacation days. Get out of the city for a bit, somewhere quiet. You’ve got graduation coming up, right?”

“Yeah,” Carmen said and leaned forward, anticipation rumbled in the back of her mind and made her heart gallop.

“Good, because you’re more than welcome to join me. It’ll be my present to you. You’ll still be paid of course.”

“A few days all to ourselves? I can’t say no,” Carmen closed the distance and kissed her, groaning at the sweet aroma that surrounded Stacy and the taste of her lips. Joy and lust danced as one, both rejoicing the potential of this invitation. A trickle of moisture down her inner thigh sent a lustful shudder up her spine. She slid her hands along Stacy’s hips to cup her delicious ass, while her boss reciprocated.

The door open and they jumped apart, curves jiggling. Carmen cast a sidelong glance at her, sighed and resumed her professional manner. Two months, she could hold out for that long. The torment would be worth it to have all that time with Stacy. Alone, uninterrupted, free to express the lust she’d built up.

Familiar fantasies surged to life as she served customers. It was a steady flow of their usual clientele, none demanded extra attention from her, leaving Carmen’s prodigious mind to wander from scene to scene. Her and Stacy entwined, milk splattered all over their skin, kissing and moaning as their ground their pussies against each other’s thigh. Or locked in a 69 position, crying out into the other’s pussy. Again, she wondered how Stacy’s must taste. Would it be tarter than her own, or sweeter? How juicy? How soft? How quick to cum?

Carmen banished those thoughts. She was flustered, a burn in her cheeks and loins. A snide chuckle at her side brought Ryuka back into focus, her presence igniting the fire further. For as much as she acted indifferent to the Seikogami, Ryuka was the epitome of sexual extravagance. To ignore her was an impossible task. No matter how often she woke and saw the goddess floating nearby, the sight still captivated her.

No, it was worse than captivation. Carmen lusted for her. Every night, when she tried to fall asleep amidst her stifling arousal, stray thoughts of relieving herself would come through. She wanted to ignore Ryuka and let her body have the release it craved, but that wasn’t accurate. Masturbation would be a relief, but not a solution. Only two answers stared her in the face day after day, and neither would acceptable. Choosing Ryuka meant accepting defeat, and pressuring Stacy into it might ruin their relationship.

Mary and Dakota were a potential third and fourth, but that meant cheating on Stacy. Zoey was another option. Stop it. Carmen raked her nails along her thigh, lashing her desire with pain. Giving up wasn’t an option. She had to focus on studies and work. Anything that might compromise them was an impossibility.

Yet that didn’t change how bad she craved it.

                Streamers of white vaulted from the dark tip to splash across her face and body. One crashed against her chest, splashing onto the mounds she hadn’t grown accustomed to, while another glued her hair and a third rushed the wall above her head. As the blasts quieted, she lurched forward and caught the remainder in her mouth. Her loud gulps urged her balls to clench and deliver a thicker finale.

Zoey came free with a laboured gasp. Rivulets of cum had escaped her lips and coursed down her chin, joining the rest that had poured across her skin and the previous, drying loads. She stroked her cock, wringing the viscous dregs from it, and savoured the afterglow. Beneath her balls, her pussy pulsated in its own, weaker climax. How many was that now?

She’d woken earlier than normal with dread writhing in her stomach. Today was the day. Her first race since meeting Carmen, since her body underwent excessive changes, and since she stepped out from underneath her own despair. Now that fear was back. It had infested her nightmares, tormenting her with everything that could go wrong; she could trip, or expose herself, orgasm for no reason, try to fuck a competitor. Or she was simply too slow. Even now, after cumming more than three times to rid herself of the sensation, anxiety threatened to drown her.

Sunlight spilt through the clouds overhead. It would be a nice enough day; no rain was forecasted and the wind was down. No excuses. Any failure was her own. But why would she fail?

Zoey wasn’t the same runner as before, in both the physical and metaphorical. She ducked under her doorway and into the bathroom, hoping to clean herself before Megan got up. Things were complicated with her. Her sister’s claims at turning over a new leaf weren’t unfounded, as she had found a job and she acted less like a bitch every day, but she was still the modern Megan. Worse, she acted too friendly toward Zoey. Not as a sister should.

Disgusting though it was, she wondered time and again if Megan was attracted to her. The shorter sibling still wore skimpy clothes, though now she seemed to have them targeted toward Zoey, often exposing that delicate bit of thigh that intersected with an ass cheek, or adjusting her low-cut shirts to flash a hint of nipple. Sometimes she swore Megan moaned her name at night.

Not that Megan’s attraction was unfounded. Zoey hadn’t taken pride in anything but her legs for all her life, overshadowed or put down by Mary, Gretchen and others, though she would be hard pressed to refute the stunning figure she now sported. She had become every women’s sports fans greatest dream; luscious thighs and hips slathered in muscle and fat, a sleek waist, a hint of abs, and her breasts overflowed her hands when she cupped them. Discipline and excess – femininity and power – embodied her towering frame.

“Nothing to worry about,” Zoey told her reflection. Not a speck of cum remained, all wiped clean or shovelled into her mouth. Her arms rippled with sleek muscles as she gripped the sink, staring down the snivelling beast that wanted to break free, “You’ve… I’ve got this. Who’s gonna try anything anyway? They’d have to be stupid.” They would indeed. No one walked up to a seven-foot athlete and intimidated them, doing so would have the reverse effect.

Then again, they didn’t have to walk up to her. A glare or scowl from afar would be adequate. She shook her head at herself and left. That was the old Zoey. Even Gretchen didn’t frighten her as much anymore, though being within view of the unstable bitch set her on edge. What chance did strangers have?

The race wasn’t until late morning, following the relay and other team contests, none of which Zoey was part of. No one on the track team, few as they were, liked being in the same room. They even insisted that Zoey change after them, lest she try to spy on one of the girls, of which she wasn’t anymore. They didn’t care that she still had her vagina, all they saw was the bulge in her gym shorts and musculature. She was the freak tranny to them.

Ms. Blake had done all she could to keep the bullying to a minimum, going so far as to persuade Gretchen to leave her be. That wouldn’t last long. Every second spent around them exacerbated into what felt like hours, tension dense as the thicket of ancient cobwebs in every corner. No words were exchanged beyond derisive remarks.

A grin teased her lips as she readied herself for the day. No comment heard had gone unreturned, though her retorts were less inventive then her former allies. Her height didn’t care if she said something lame or repetitive, so long as she didn’t tolerate the abuse, and with her improved vantage point she couldn’t lose. Not when her legs rippled with power and dwarfed even her father’s lanky limbs.

“Morning Zoey,” Megan said, entering the kitchen.

Zoey sat at the table, chugging down her breakfast, and averted her eyes. Once more, Megan presented her body without shame. One strap of her tank top hung over one arm and threatened to slip further, while her shorts struggled to stretch over the bodacious curve of her rear. Not one inch of her plump legs was concealed. If it wasn’t her, Zoey might have enjoyed the view. Perhaps if it was Carmen? …yes.

No! Zoey shook the thoughts loose before her imagination resuscitated her slumbering cock. She choked down her cereal, grabbed a protein bar and bag, and rushed out. Megan called after her, but the words faded away. She couldn’t afford to exhaust her on further fantasies. She needed focus to make everything come to fruition, then there wouldn’t be a need to imagine everything.

She’d avoided Carmen for that exact reason. Being around her, knowing she was unattainable for the meantime, drove Zoey’s sex drive wild. Every hour of every day, without fail, she would conjure Carmen’s image and contemplate how her skin must feel, how her boobs bounced, if her butt was as firm as it looked behind her skirt. Best and worst of all, Zoey pondered what her pussy was like.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Zoey muttered as she power walked to Saint Puella. She needed to handle these urges and keep them segregated until after the race. Which she would win and, if Carmen’s words in the infirmary held any weight, quench her curiosity. It might be a lie, yet it also could be. Not from Carmen. Other people deceived their way through life, but she couldn’t be one of them.

The school towered into view, casting its shadow across the sidewalk and road and all who walked them. Zoey didn’t linger in its darkness. She was done cowering beneath something, and headed to the field, past the silhouette. And frowned.

People were on the field. Runners, she assumed from how they moved, but none wore the customary skirt, opting instead for a pair of shorts that allowed excellent manoeuvrability. She hung back to observe them, while annoyance stirred beneath her skin. Who were they to encroach on the one place she could truly relax?

Someone spotted her and jogged over. They were a typical athlete. Mid-length hair tied back in a tall ponytail, sharp features to cut down wind resistance and a honed body designed for sport, though she only came up to the futa’s chest Zoey noted.

“Hi,” the runner panted, “I’m Beth, from Northland High? You’re Zoey, right?”

“Yeah,” Zoey said, thinning her eyes in caution.

“Jesus, you’re just as tall as Michelle said you were.”

“Michelle?” The name was familiar, as was their high schools, she just couldn’t place it.

“Oi! Michelle!” Beth waved to someone, who approached with a calm stride that exuded confidence.

“Oh shit! That you, Zo-Zo?”

A few feet separated them and Zoey recognised her now. Michelle had several striking features, the least of which being her musculature. Neon pink hair cropped short into a faux-hawk, dominant jawline and nose, stacked a body pure power. It wasn’t at the level of a body builder, nor was it the sleek form most runners sought. Square shoulders, stocky torso and a pair of legs layered in muscles. If not for her height that put her level with Zoey’s collarbone, she would appear ridiculous. Instead, she simply exuded strength.

And intimidation, “Looks like you filled out. At least you beat me in something,” Michelle said, smirking, “But you still look puny. How’s the twigs holding you up?”

Zoey swallowed her response, afraid of what might come out. Frost bit into her veins. Her fingers were numb, as were her feet and legs. The fist she wanted to make refused to form. Phantom voices taunted her, all Michelle’s, and long healed aches spread across her body. Gretchen had salted the ground on which her self-confidence had been razed, but it was Michelle who brought it to that state. And, unlike the bitch queen, Michelle had no issue with physical enforcement.

“Cat got your tongue? That’s alright,” Michelle clapped a hand on Zoey’s shoulder. A moment ago it was above her eyeline, now they were even. She squeezed, nails sinking deep into the once tall redhead’s shoulder, “You’re gonna lose again, right? Wouldn’t want an accident?”

“No,” Zoey said and shuddered, realising she wasn’t refusing Michelle but agreeing with her. The world had returned to its former stature and dominated her. She was tiny, an insignificant speck on the Earth to be walked over once more. Saint Puella was no longer a school, but her personal hell. It offered her hope under the guise of a curse, and ripped it away once she got comfortable. The chill stopped, but she was still quivering. Michelle’s stomach filled her view.

“Good. If I lost to a little shrimp like you, I’d probably kill myself,” Michelle laughed and gave Zoey a pat on the head, like she was a diminutive dog, “Now run along. You’re distracting.”

Zoey left and turned the corner, stopped and looked up at the wall she encountered. It was Carmen. Was it frustration? Sorrow? Anger? All three played in her mind as she clung to the honour student, snivelling into her clothes like a child with their mother. This is what everything she’d done had amounted to; failure.

“I’m sorry,” Zoey said for what must have been the hundredth time. They were sat in the destitute library, now devoid of the books it needed to be called such. Zoey cradled a bottle of sugar water, while Carmen reclined opposite her, calm and in control as always. She hadn’t said a word.

“You should be,” Carmen finally said, “You go and punch Gretchen, get your ass kicked and still walk around like you own the place, then one freak shows up and look at you!”

Zoey flinched away. She was well aware of what she had become. Even Rachel was taller than her now, probably stronger too. A kitten could intimidate her.

“You don’t know her,” Zoey said, “She’s worse than Gretchen.”

“I doubt it.”

“Gretchen never sent someone home with a broken arm. And nose. Or nearly popped someone’s shoulder out,” Zoey wrapped her arms around herself. Michelle hadn’t done any of those things to anyone but her. She was the competition, the only one who ran at the same pace. Of course Michelle would target her, “I almost ended up paralysed because of her.”

The calm on Carmen’s face vanished, pulled past the point of return and into an abyss of rage. Her full lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes twitched, her hands came together in a furious embrace. She took deep, shuddering breaths.

“Why are you angry?” Zoey asked, “It’s not like she did anything to you.”

Carmen ignored her, “She did all that because you were better than her, didn’t she?”

“Maybe,” Zoey shrugged.

“Then beat her,” Carmen said and relaxed, though her body remained taut and fury crackled behind her cobalt eyes, “Make her look like the petty bitch she is.”

“I can’t. Look at me!” Zoey laughed and stood, shoulders barely above the three-and-a-half-foot table, “I couldn’t beat a fucking turtle, let alone the fucking hare.”

“Then just grow!” Carmen also stood, glaring down at her, “I don’t care what you think you’re capable of. Because, right now, you still think some steroid freak is better. So, instead, you’re going to ignore anything your brain says. You,” Carmen leaned forward until her face almost cross the table and peered deep into Zoey’s eyes, “Are going to win.”

“I can’t,” Zoey whispered and hung her head. The last time she was on a track with Michelle, in an actual competition that she wanted to win, she woke up in hospital. A ‘nasty fall’ was the apparent cause. She didn’t believe it for one second. Silence hovered then was torn asunder at the brutal crack across her cheek.

“It may sound stupid, but I want you to win,” Carmen said, “Don’t believe in yourself, then. Just believe in me. Because I believe in you.”

“That does sound stupid,” Zoey snickered, a flicker of warmth chased away the sting in her cheek.

“Fine, whatever. But it’s true,” Carmen reclaimed her seat and sighed, exasperated, “I could take care of Michelle for you.”


“I could make it so she could never run again.”

“That’s…” Zoey recognised that Carmen was smart, but her physical strength had never seemed apparent before. Was she some kind of martial art master? Otherwise, Zoey saw no means for Carmen to beat Michelle in a contest of strength, not with that sleek build and heart-stealing curves. Yet she had a confident inferno in her eyes. Maybe she could handle it?

No. Michelle was brute force incarnated in middle school, after four years, she didn’t want to imagine what she was capable of. But Carmen’s mind was made up. If Zoey did nothing, if she stayed there and snivelled like a coward in her tiny body, then Carmen would take matters into her own hands. She would get hurt, no telling how severely, and everything would be Zoey’s fault. All because she let her fear overpower her again.

“I’ll do it,” Zoey said.

“Good,” Carmen said and sighed, no doubt relieved. She glanced at her bag, slung over the back of the chair beside, and shook her head, “If she tries anything during the race, I’ll step in. Also, don’t know if it helps, but that reward I mentioned is still on the table.”

“You never specified what that is,” Zoey said, leaning forward to try and discern any further hints. A red hue spread across Carmen’s cheeks and she looked at her cracked watch.

“Gotta go. Classes are starting,” Carmen said and fled, though her expression had told Zoey everything she needed to know, and reinforced her drive to win. What could Michelle do in the face of Zoey’s unfaltering libido? Once roused, her sex drive refused to be silenced without reward. Her cock remained dormant though, quelled by the promise and her uncertainty. She rubbed at the cheek Carmen had slapped and hushed her thoughts; nothing would be gained by thinking about it.

Those participating in the small event were omitted from classwork. As such, Zoey lingered in the library until it was time for the race. Without anyone to spark her growth, she remained tiny, no taller than a prepubescent. That would change. She exited the building and headed to the dilapidated field.

It was surrounded by small groups. Some were previous participants, most exhausted and laughing together while they relaxed, others were parents, friends or teachers come to observe. Only one group stood out. It was a pair of men with cameras, looking unimpressed. Ms. Blake was close to them, casting furtive glances around. She must’ve invited some media to watch and report the proceedings, likely promising that she had a star athlete amongst her otherwise mediocre students.

Zoey wasn’t that star. Not yet. She caught several stares cast her way, most from Saint Puella students, others from the visiting schools. They all lorded superiority over her, some added disgust to the mix. Holly was amongst the visitors, whispering to them while sneering at her.

“Not today bitch,” Zoey snapped under her breath and glared back, infusing every shred of anger, every second of her life she had spent despising Michelle and Gretchen into her gaze, fixed squarely on Holly. The girl’s confidence crumbled and she sank back. Warmth surged at her reaction. Zoey glanced down at herself and beamed. She stifled a moan of delight as she regained some of her lost height. The rest would return soon. Once she beat Michelle.

She hadn’t spent the past week just improving her confidence. With a cock like hers, one long enough that it nearly touched her knees when she was seven feet tall, her running technique needed to change. Wrong moves jostled or pinched her balls, or made them slap against her thighs as she pumped her legs. A sling of sorts, more akin to a bra, reduced the sway.

The other girls in the race were talking amongst themselves. Michelle was with her own school, surrounded by girls who flinched at the slightest move. Even their coach steered clear. It was obvious Michelle hadn’t relinquished her old ways, worse, she had shared them amongst everyone in her track team. Only one person, Beth, seemed impervious. The two would glance at each other on occasion and, though it was faint or a trick of the light, Zoey saw affection there. It made sense. Michelle hadn’t shown any interest in boys, even the feminine types who loved to be dominated.

“Runners! Gather!” Someone called. The referee, Zoey assumed and approached the starting line. She saw Michelle force her way beside her, but kept her gaze straight ahead.

“Thought you’d have chickened out, Zo-Zo,” Michelle said.

“Shut up,” Zoey snapped, heart palpitating. She shouldn’t provoke her. But with so many people present, and some with eyes fixed attentively on the athletes, Michelle couldn’t get away with much. Afterwards was another matter. That could wait. Winning was all that mattered, everything else was secondary for the meantime.

Michelle drew close, her hulking frame blocking all view of the twisted face she now wore, “I will fucking destroy you.”

“Try it,” Zoey said. Despite her fear, the embers of growth distributed around her frame, empowering and elongating it, “If you can catch me that is.”

“Once I win,” Michelle said and drew back. Her features contorted to a sinister grin, “I am going to snap off both your legs.”

“You’d need the handicap.”

“Oh? Someone’s got a spine all of a sudden. What, did you stick your dick in some whore? Yeah, I know about it. Bet you’ve got a puny little twig. Like everything else.”

“Still bigger than yours,” Zoey said. Everyone in Saint Puella knew she had a cock, not only that, but anyone who believed Megan’s picture knew it was quite the endowment. Why would she care if Michelle also knew? She glanced at her tormentor, who had fallen quiet. Shock and horror clouded her face, “Wait… you actually have one too?”

“Breathe a word and it’ll be the last thing you see when I choke you to death,” Michelle snarled.

“On the marks!”

Zoey assumed her position and fixed her eyes dead ahead. She could worry about Michelle later.

“Get set!”

A tall figure stepped into view. Zoey’s heart leapt; it was Carmen.


Zoey didn’t think. Her body moved the instant the announcer exhaled, bolting forward as if to capture Carmen and never let go. All else but the glorious girl faded from existence, as if she consumed it all. Warmth suffused Zoey’s body, desire and growth mingling as she ran. Her muscles contracted and released in tandem, creating the perfect harmony within her. No one else could encroach on this space. This was Zoey’s territory, her mind, her field of release. A realm pervaded by Carmen and herself alone.

Then a thick-bodied gorilla rampaged through the beauty. Michelle had caught up. Her body glistened already, veins spread across her form in a haphazard display of brute strength. She took the lead and Zoey saw, for a second, the keen bulge of masculinity. It was true.

Then why didn’t she approach her earlier and relate? If they both had the same mutation, then why couldn’t Michelle show sympathy. Someone had likely discovered Michelle’s before and ostracised her for it, no doubt leading to her current personality, but there was no reason for her to be alone anymore. They could share each other’s worries and pain. Instead, she chose to remain the same malicious bitch. She was the brute form of Gretchen.

Someone like that couldn’t be allowed to win. Someone like her couldn’t force Zoey back into the shadows. No one would stand between Zoey and Carmen. That’s what this ‘woman’ was doing by pushing so hard.

Get back here, Zoey thought and pressed harder. Someone had almost caught up, but an enraged glance back forced them to stumble and retreat. The embers caught one another and ignited into an inferno. Her awareness retreated once more, focused on Michelle, who appeared as a blot on the world in her vision, an impious spot that needed to be erased or taken down several notches. Who better to do so than Zoey?

Michelle glanced back and stepped up the pace. It was futile. Fear still festered in Zoey’s mind, eager to break free and consume her, yet the fire kept the whimpering creature at bay. Each attempt it made at controlling her that she foiled, the flame brightened and her body grew. Her strides lengthened into leaps and bounds, her arms pumped at her sides, her cock swelled and urged her on, while her curves returned. Vanity pushed her as much as her disdain for Michelle.

How could she lose like this? Her body was at its peak, infallible, and still improving. Michelle came into reach, then they were side by side, then… Zoey was falling. The ground found her face and slashed at it. Dirt snaked its way into the cuts, adrenaline ran rampant and dulled the pain. She came to a stop and looked up. Michelle crossed the finish line and was immediately approached by several people. Concern and guilt flashed across her face as they talked to her.

“Michelle Blitzkrieg is disqualified!” Someone announced. That didn’t make it any better. Zoey still lost. She stood, her ankle stabbed at her nervous system, and limped forward with her fists and jaw clenched tight. Grazes lined her face and arms. Her cock had escaped the brunt of it, though her balls ached from the impact. Nausea rolled in her stomach. She pushed on, intent on Michelle.


Zoey turned and saw Carmen. Rage evaporated into a calm, which blew into the aether as tears welled up, borne from a mixture of pain and frustration. Arms were around her in moments and she returned the gesture. Any semblance of control had dissipated. What sense was there in stopping herself now? She caught Carmen by surprise and kissed her, but pulled apart an instant later, eyes downcast.

“Let’s go. I’ll look at your ankle,” Carmen said. Zoey sniffled and nodded, afraid any verbal response would break down into sobs. She spared a final glance around and saw Rachel staring at her with a blank expression, as if unable to process the events that unfolded. It didn’t matter.

                Halting her advance hadn’t been easy. Carmen felt more inclined to help than prevent, but it was better to keep Zoey away from trouble, especially with her injuries. The athlete limped along with her, slouched forward and trusting half her weight to Carmen. For mystical reasons she still hadn’t deciphered, the burden was minimal to her, as if she was carrying her baby sister once more, rather than an Amazon. Though Zoey better embodied femininity better than most Amazons did in myth.

Power radiated from the runner’s form. Muscles rippled under the surface of her skin, yet she was sleek and soft, endowed with a gorgeous set of breasts to boot. Carmen chided herself for letting her own preference interfere with her intentions for Zoey. The transformation was originally meant to alter her height – and penis – but nothing more, instead she’d included a sentence to bolster Zoey’s curves as well.

She set her down in an unused locker room. Most of the lockers were hanging on by the hinges, the walls were cracked, and the benches were either broken or had mould growing on them. Only one was in suitable condition. Zoey leaned back and wiped at her tears. Open cuts marred her face.

“This is gonna sting,” Carmen said. She had grabbed a first aid kit the second Zoey fell. Why? A medic was better trained to handle this. It was just practice, she reasoned. Doctors made an excellent living in the US. Perhaps med school was the way to go? Her grades were high enough that she could chance a scholarship with one. Though no college had made any offers yet, they were bound to come sooner or later.

Fresh tears boiled over as she cleaned Zoey’s cuts and scrapes. Carmen paused as she moved to the arms, suddenly aware of the bulge in her ward’s crotch. What kind of libido must futanari have to get horny while in pain? Or perhaps it was that large now, she hadn’t written a limit so it was possible. Her gaze flitted between the injuries on Zoey’s arm and her groin, certain the lump grew at each glance.

“Is everything alright? You know, aside from the obvious?” Carmen asked.

“Y-yeah,” Zoey said, though she avoided looking at her. A dull hue had settled on her light bronze cheeks.

“Are you aroused?”

“What?! I… oh god,” Zoey covered her crotch. The hue ripened into a bright crimson and covered her face from side to side, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Your endorphins are probably still going crazy, so you’re more prone to random bouts of arousal. I’d assume at least, the reading isn’t too clear on how one affects the other.”

“Do you research everything?”

“If I can,” Carmen said, silently cursing the Seikogami that hovered somewhere in the vicinity. She was never far.

“Then what about me? Why am I like this now?”

“Insufficient data,” Carmen sighed, “There’s no precedent for you, Zoey. This stuff just, sort of, happened. But… I’m glad it did.”


“Don’t pretend you weren’t miserable around Gretchen. Besides, you’re taller than you used to be. It’s,” Carmen cleared her throat, “It’s kind of attractive, really.” Tall girls weren’t a major deal for Carmen, she preferred curves over anything, yet she’d be a liar if she claimed Zoey’s height didn’t add a level of assurance. And a hint of intimidation, but that made it intriguing.

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Yes,” Carmen said.

“Even though I have a dick?”

“Everyone’s got one nowadays,” Carmen chuckled, “Maybe you, Mary and Dakota could start a support group?”

“Dakota has one?” Zoey asked.

“I thought you knew,” Carmen said and chided herself for revealing it.

Zoey shook her head, “Everyone only knows about mine and Mary’s. I’ll keep it a secret though.”


“You didn’t answer my question though.”

“It… complicates things,” Carmen said. Phalli had never interested her beyond a casual level. She studied them for the sake of science and furthering her knowledge, but she hadn’t thought of one sexually in her life. Rather, she hadn’t until a few months ago. Now it was harder for her to believe she was a wholehearted lesbian. Even when she had observed Dakota’s for that short time had been oddly endearing. Pussy was still where her core lust laid though.

“Okay,” Zoey deflated, “What was that reward gonna be anyway?”

“I-I really can’t say.” Now Carmen also blushed.

“You’re embarrassed? Really? I’m the one talking about their wiener.”

“True. Well… truth is I… was going to… get you off,” Carmen refused to bring her voice above a subtle whisper, drowned out by the violent throbbing of her heart. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. The reward was going to be a kiss, longer than what Zoey had given her earlier. Maybe a little touching too? She cast her eyes over Zoey and gnawed on her tongue.

There was no denying it. This girl… this futa was attractive. Lithe but powerful, soft yet firm and complete with a gorgeous tan and face. While Stacy was closer to Carmen’s type, Zoey was a near second. Perhaps if her hips were fuller, and her breasts a couple sizes larger, then... What was she thinking? She’d changed Zoey to help her, not take advantage of the feelings that the Futa Note forced on her. Worse, she was contemplating cheating on Stacy. But she did say she wouldn’t mind, unless that was Carmen’s imagination?


“Huh?” She blinked and realised she’d frozen in place, with her eyes staring straight between Zoey’s thighs. How horny was she that she was considering this?

“I can finish up,” Zoey said, “I know you don’t want to cheat on your girlfriend. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not… ugh, I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking anymore,” Carmen rubbed at her temples, hoping blood flow would solve the problem. It didn’t. Worse, the sudden calm brought the heat between her thighs to attention. She wanted release so fucking bad.

“Like I said, it’s fine. I’ll just, fuck!” Zoey went to stand and stumbled, falling back to the bench, where she hunched over and clutched her swollen ankle. Carmen winced in sympathy and looked for some painkillers. Finding none, she nursed her bottom lip in contemplation. All humans, magically altered or not, had a built in painkiller so to speak.

“Relax,” Carmen said and hooked her fingers into Zoey’s shorts, eyes avoiding the bulge while she relinquished a sliver of self-control.

“What’re you, oh?”

Carmen ignored her and brought the garment to her shins. The penis was in the open now, a blurred slab of meat in her peripheral vision. A twitch caught her gaze. Why hadn’t she imposed a limit? She’d rectify that later, for now she was captivated. No cock had held her attention since Ryuka’s, whose egregious endowment defied all realms of normalcy, though she’d only seen a couple others for mere seconds at a time. This was the first ‘human’ phallus she’d come so close to.

How did Zoey keep it inside her pants? It twitched and throbbed to life, swelling before her eyes as if summoned by her presence, reaching a monstrous size before calming. She forced her eyes away from it and took in the tan lines spread across Zoey’s hips, formed after running and relaxing in her shorts. What about her top, did she have lines around her chest to highlight her full bust?

Zoey read her thoughts, or seemed to, as she removed her shirt. Lighter skin, indeed, surrounded her breasts in stark juxtaposition to the rest of her form. They were like trails that wanted to lead Carmen’s fingers to the mounds, to sample the fruits of her unwanted power, and tease the cherry pink nipples as they extended into the open, begging to be kissed and suckled. A trickle of warmth flowed through Carmen’s nether region. She sighed and returned her attention to the masculine side of Zoey, satisfied that she hadn’t become wholly enamoured with phalli.

“So, uh… what’s the plan?” Zoey asked, licking her lips as she sat there, naked with curves most women would kill for and a dick any woman would fall for. Except Carmen. This was to help Zoey, to soothe the pain of her ankle. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t complaining at the moment, this was… a matter of principle? Yes. If not for Michelle, Zoey would have won. No sense in depriving her of a reward for something outside her control.

“I guess, I’ll just…” Carmen reached out and grabbed the phallus, gasped and let go. It leapt into her grasp, the skin blazing and sticky with sweat. Her hand hovered nearby. The heat wafted from Zoey’s shaft, both warning and compelling her forward. She held it again. A rush of air left Zoey, as if relieved that they didn’t explode, or was it a sigh of pleasure.

“It’s, uh, big,” Carmen said and stroked down the length. The skin rolled back from the head, revealing every square inch of the purple glans, which stared at her in imagined longing. A wide slit faced Carmen. It resembled a smile, though she hoped it was her imagination.

“Yeah, I can even suck it,” Zoey said and giggled at Carmen’s expression. It looked long enough, but the girth must pose a problem if her fingers couldn’t meet around it, and the shaft still seemed to swell even now. A complex network of veins, usually found beneath the surface, were huge and throbbing. It couldn’t get much larger, not without straining Zoey’s heart. Although it was a cock formed by the Futa Note. Perhaps it defied all laws of nature?

“Hmm, that’s nice.”

Carmen blinked at the words and watched as her hand pumped the shaft, unaware that she had been moving. It was an awkward motion, stuttering at times, and the size made each circuit between base and tip a small marathon. Yet Zoey moaned, her heartbeat quickened and she hardened in Carmen’s grasp. Inexperience should have made this a long and clumsy affair, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Zoey was just sensitive, Carmen rationalised, unwilling to assume that she had some form of talent for this.

“How’re you so good at this?” Zoey cooed, slouching lower to offer better access to her length. Carmen pressed a hand to the futa’s thigh, steadying her, and received a moan in return. So she’s sensitive, Carmen clarified. She ran her nails along the athlete’s skin as she stroked, unable to resist a grin as Zoey moaned louder. Her smile faded as pre-cum poured from the tip.

It was thick and murky, more so than she expected. The slime touched her roaming fingers and sent a shudder through her, though not one of revulsion. It reminded her of when she was child and helped with baking, feeling the slime of the doughy mixture as it came together. Except it wouldn’t solidify this time, and more kept pouring out, streaming down the bottom of the shaft and lubricating the path. She caught some on her palm and slathered it around the rest, certain more would make it better.

Zoey’s moans crept higher as she pumped out more pre, which now covered Carmen’s hand and dripped to the floor in its excess. Carmen ramped up the pace, spurred by the sound of pleasure, and her own curiosity at how much Zoey would cum. The balls were a perfect match for the cock after all, each the size of grapefruits or small melons. She released the thigh and fondled the massive orbs. They were heavy and coated in sweat, yet the skin was smooth.

She touched the backs and found it was dripping wet. Carmen reached around them and found her true passion; Zoey’s pussy. She hadn’t confirmed if the Futa Note turned people into true hermaphrodites, but this told her all she wished to know as she slid a pair of fingers along Zoey’s puffy vulva, inciting an outpour of juices from both sexes. The futa’s moans turned quick and breathless. She was close.

Carmen sank her fingers inside but kept her thumb in position to stimulate the clit while her fist pumped the cock faster, reaching a fever pitch. Zoey’s hands curled around the bench, her powerful body tensed. Abs stood out from her belly, her biceps, quads and glutes all rippled as she teetered on the edge. But she held on.

“Come on,” Carmen whispered, eager to witness what kind of orgasm a futa had. Still Zoey resisted, despite her breaths coming in sharp gusts. Carmen thrust her fingers into the athlete’s pussy, twisting and curling them as she did so, seeking out her g-spot.

“Fuck… ah!” Zoey ground her teeth together. Her hips undulated with Carmen’s movements. A groan of frustration escaped Carmen as she added a third finger to the pair already inside. Her arm and wrist ached from the constant pumping motion.

Yet she was aroused as well. Carmen clenched her jaw as her own snatch leaked, a rivulet of fluid coursed down her thigh, crying out for attention. This shouldn’t arouse her, not while she was touching a cock, stroking it, lathering it in its own copious emissions. Perhaps it was the pussy that turned her on? Or did she like cheating on Stacy?

“Oh god,” Carmen said. Her arousal got the better of her and summoned Stacy’s visage to her mind, recreating the memory of them together in the apartment, when Stacy had revealed her lactation and almost seduced Carmen. They’d come close to sleeping together. A pantomime of Stacy’s pussy rippled around her fingers, hungry for a pleasure she was happy to provide by adding a fourth finger to the mix.

The fantasies wouldn’t stop. Her panties were drenched as she envisioned going beyond the memory, of falling atop Stacy’s luscious body, kissing her until they were breathless and caked in each other’s spit. Then she would slip between her thighs and taste her. Then the same would be done to her. They’d come together afterwards and exchange each other’s juices, before doing it all again. Perhaps with Stacy’s collection of toys. What was it like to fuck someone with a strap-on?

“Ah,” Carmen moaned. She didn’t want to fantasise, or to be with Zoey at that moment. She wanted Stacy. She craved her.

“I’m gonna… ahh, fuck! Gonna cum!”

Finally, Carmen thought and sped up. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could leave. Classes were cancelled due to the sport events, so she could go and see Stacy. Even if school was in session, she didn’t think it would stop her. Not when her desire flared like this. Volcanos didn’t compare to the lust cascading from her pussy.

“I’m cumming! Oh god, yes! I’m cumming! I love you!” Zoey shouted as her body convulsed, locked, then went slack and a volley of white splattered Carmen in the face. She moved aside to let the remainder fly wild. A burst slammed into the lockers opposite them, splashing onto everything within two feet of impact, before dwindling to coat the floor. Another, and another, then another. Carmen forgot her own lust as she saw entire ounces explode from Zoey’s dick. When it was over, almost a gallon of thick, white gunk had pooled on the ground and coated the lockers.

The stream that had caught Carmen oozed down her face and touched her lip. She licked at it without thought and spat instantly. It wasn’t disgusting as she’d expected, it wasn’t even unpleasant, nor did the texture feel wrong. Which meant what? That she liked cum?

A childish laugh diverted her attention to a corner, in which Ryuka hovered with a lustful sneer on her face. Her dick was erect as well, streaming pre-cum as dense as the pool of seed on the floor.

“Not bad for your first go at a cock,” the Seikogami said, “How about trying out mine?”

Carmen ignored her and used a sanitary wipe from the first aid kit to wipe her face, “Gotta go. Sorry.”


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 19 - First Release

“W-what?” Zoey asked, thoughts slow after cumming from both genders.

The honour student didn’t answer. She rushed from the school and hurried to Soothe the Soul, compelled by pure, inane lust. The doors were locked, a sign said that the owner was away for the morning.

“No, no, come on…” Carmen moved onto Stacy’s apartment, praying she was there. Stacy lived in a small block around the corner from Soothe the Soul. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it was luxury compared to Carmen’s home. She found the door and knocked, then waited in twitchy anticipation.  She knocked again after a minute.

“I’m coming!” Stacy said. Even muffled, Carmen recognised her voice. It could speak gibberish and she would know her from the warmth and love that permeated it. Today, though, she hoped to hear it in the throes of bliss.

Stacy opened the door. She was dressed in a nightgown, one stretched taut over her bust, with a robe over her shoulders. Her hair was a mess and her cheeks were a darker red than normal. A cursory sniff of the air brought the scent of sex to Carmen’s attention, though she suspected her own activities could be the culprit.

“Carmen? What’re…” Not another word. Carmen charged forward and captured her face in her hands, then pulled her close and kissed her with all the passion that had been boiling beneath the surface with Zoey. Half a minute passed before she separated, breathless and with a thick rope of spit between them.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Carmen panted and embraced the plush woman. Her hands zeroed in on Stacy’s rear, then snaked between their bodies to grope her lust-inducing tits. Milk soaked through the gown immediately.

“Neither can I. Come in…”

Zoey stumbled into her house. What just happened? She leaned against the front door, cold against her back, and stared ahead, down the hall or up the stairs, her eyes refused to focus on either. Nothing had changed. Of course it hadn’t. She’d only been gone for a few hours, yet she expected the bright walls to have turned grey, to sprout black mould in the corners, to be adorned in cracked pictures of herself. But everything was as it should be in her home of eighteen years.

Outside was another matter. Despite Michelle’s disqualification, Zoey hadn’t won the race, nor had she even received second or third place. She’d left to lick her wounds, and to unleash her pent up emotions toward Carmen. Her cock still jerked at the memory and her pussy lapped at her balls. Soon after, she’d left the locker room to find a horde of suspicious eyes, with Ms. Blake amongst them.

“What?” She’d asked.

Ms. Blake, accompanied by Mrs. Strep, the head of the track team on paper, approached, “You’re hereby removed from the track team for having an unfair advantage. We know you’re trans, and identity as a woman, but that doesn’t change the fact you have a physical advantage over the other girls. You will not be expelled, though.” The principal said everything, backed by the bobble-head of Mrs. Strep. Few of the teachers cared enough to tutor their students, let alone try and encourage them, but she did. To an extent that didn’t reach her job security.

Zoey didn’t say a word. They were transparent to her, phantoms that blurred the gleeful smirk of a plastic blonde, whose flawless skin hid a twisted, gnarled monstrosity of a human. It was a paradox for every lesbian or bi-sexual at the school, that they despised Gretchen but wanted her body. The same held true for Zoey. She pictured having the spiteful teen pinned between her legs, face a bloody, broken, unrecoverable mess, but, in equal measure, she also saw herself pounding into her fat cunt and cumming in her womb.

Neither was possible. Gretchen was untouchable, worse, she had just retracted the sole protection Zoey was granted. Any step out of line, if she so much as looked at her for longer than a second, she was gone. Zoey could handle that. It had been her intention to avoid the bitch wherever and whenever possible. What she’d done, however, was take away Zoey’s only chance at making a name for herself. Her grades were average at best after all.

Now, she slouched against the door of her home. Alone. The place was still, not even the dust moved now, as if frozen by her disbelief. She hadn’t shrunk. Perhaps the curse understood how futile the situation was and left her be? At least that was a silver lining. She curled her knees to her chest and hugged them. If nothing else, she couldn’t lose this fantastic body that she’d suffered for.

Her days of running as a track star were over. She might get lucky and join a team in college, but it would be subpar, a facility of mediocre equipment, trainers and peers. Running was a respite for her, and a triumph. She could ignore everything and still come out victorious over others. This body wasn’t designed for running though, and her drive had dwindled, siphoned off into another desire. She wanted nothing more than to indulge in her new form. If not with Carmen, then someone else.

The door opened and banished her thoughts. She turned her head and saw Megan standing in the entrance, clad in a dress shirt and skirt, the model of an employee if not for her dishevelled appearance. Her face was flushed, makeup hastily reapplied where it had run off, and her skirt was askew.

“What happened?” Megan asked and stepped in, shutting the door as she slumped down beside her sister.

“Nothing. What about you?”

“Got caught fucking the manager. Got fired of course,” Megan said and brushed a lock of hair from her face, then turned to face Zoey and noticed her swollen ankle, “Oh shit, what happened? Do not bullshit me.”

“Someone tripped me,” Zoey sighed and rubbed at the tender bone, still an angry red sheen, “Made me lose the race. And I got kicked off the track team.”

“Because you’re trans?”

“I’m not trans! I don’t fucking know what I am, alright? I’ve got a huge dick and balls and I’ve got a pussy, huge tits and a bubble butt. So? What does that make me? Huh?!” She was being hysterical, she knew it, but that didn’t stop the words from boiling over the surface. The beast of her insecurities was finally given a voice to the outside, and it howled with mournful glee. Then it stopped and a comforting weight curled over her shoulders as she was tilted toward Megan.

“Shh,” Megan stroked her hair, something she hadn’t done since they were kids and Zoey had been bullied for the first time.

“Why’re you doing this?”

“Because my sister’s an emotional wreck right now.”

“I mean ‘being so nice’. You were a bitch for so long. I refuse to believe you’d change overnight.”

“I haven’t changed. Ever heard of a persona? Everything I did was an act. I was a bitch because that’s what made me cool, what made people like me. You couldn’t do that, so I pushed you away. It was a fucking stupid mistake. Besides, it’s been a while since I turned over a new leaf.”

“Whatever,” Zoey said and nestled into her sister’s one-armed embrace, sinking into her breast. It was too much of a coincidence, that Megan would have such a perfect explanation already on hand. For now, however, she was glad to have her sister back, if only briefly. Neither said anything. Silence hung over them, broken only by the soft strokes through Zoey’s hair. Until Zoey broke it.



“Are you attracted to me?” Zoey asked, too exhausted after the day’s events to be tact.

“I… yes,” Megan whispered and looked away. It was wrong on so many levels, yet it was also the perfect opportunity. Zoey needed something to focus on, something that wasn’t Carmen Robins, that wasn’t running, that her new body could excel at. That her consciousness could drown in. And Megan was simply sexy. Large breasts that didn’t upset the balance of her luscious hips, and a waist that didn’t cry for food or detract from the prior assets.

“Why’d you post that picture of me? It ruined everything,” Zoey asked, though she wasn’t sure she cared anymore. She sat up and leaned over her sibling, whose five-foot-five body seemed puny by comparison. It was a guess, but Zoey believed she stood at least two feet above her now.

“You never saw the caption did you?” Megan pulled out her phone and showed it to her. It read ‘All MINE! Hands off!’ The comments ranged from jealous refusal that it was real, and harsh words from those who recognised Zoey as Megan’s sister.

“I thought it’d keep people away from you. And, uh, cut off my ‘friends’. They haven’t talked to me since. I mean, I am the pervert sister who claimed your giant dick for herself, right?” Megan had her eyes trained on a random floorboard, avoiding any contact with Zoey, who leered closer. It had been years since they were so close to one another, so open. Vulnerability permeated the sullen air. Both were at their worst, yet also their best. They were sharing, they knew one another’s pain – to an extent – and one had just admitted to lusting after her own younger sister. Zoey didn’t speak.

Instead she closed the fine distance between them and mashed their lips together. Since the curse, or gift as she was learning to see it, her own lips were the plumper between them, though that didn’t diminish Megan’s own luscious set. They were soft, a set of pillows that welcomed hers. It wasn’t a deep kiss, little more than a trial.

“We are so going to hell,” Megan said.

“I’m in if you are,” Zoey said.

“Are we really doing this?”

“I’m done holding myself back. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t think you’re hot,” Zoey forced her eyes to remain level, averse to letting on how frayed her nerves were just from that single kiss. Anything more and she would be shaking.

“So… my room? I’ve got the double bed after all.”

“Y-yeah, that… that sounds good.”

Carmen laid down a flurry of kisses upon her girlfriend and employer. Their lips were red and swollen, coated in layers of the other’s saliva, a sloppy bridge connected them as they gasped against each other. It was a brief moment of respite that Carmen gladly finished with another, forceful kiss.

They were in Stacy’s room atop her bed. Stacy writhed beneath the student, mewling as deft fingers toyed with her body, dancing from nipple to her ass, while an indominable knee pressed between her lush thighs. Carmen forced her tongue into the open and sucked on it, before making it clear she expected the same in return. Whatever their work relationship, or their age difference, Carmen was in command. She kept her plump love from grinding too fast or slow, even dictating when she could so much as move her arms to embrace her.

Several minutes had passed since they began. A culminative thirty seconds of those minutes were wasted on air, but their bodies never separated. Carmen’s voluptuous breasts crushed against Stacy’s larger set, nipples stiff and occasionally finding each other. Milk had soaked through both their clothes. It took a stern push from below for Carmen to pause, if only for the second it took her to throw off her top and skirt. She did the same for Stacy, tossing the drenched nightgown aside.

“What brought this on?” Stacy asked, though her answer would wait as Carmen sealed their lips together. A haze had settled in her mind, dense with the musk of this gorgeous woman and all the stimulation pummelling her senses. Her pussy dripped as her leg was coated with Stacy’s juices, the fat lips gliding along her thigh as more was added. She brought a hand to the lower lips and pressed a finger inside.

It was clear that Stacy had been masturbating that morning. Her room had already reeked of her snatch when Carmen entered, and it showed as her loosened cunt swallowed the finger like a greedy child scarfing down a chocolate bar. A second finger was added, both curled and thrust deeper, nails gliding across the sensitive walls. Stacy bucked at the sudden stimulus, then moaned deep into Carmen’s mouth.

Arousal poured from the woman. Her voice was low and husky as it moaned and muttered incoherent pleas for more, while her cunt squished around Carmen’s thrusting fingers. Each retreat pulled a gush of feminine cream with it, and the push squelched. Carmen hastened the motions, angling herself up and down, left to right, seeking Stacy’s delicious g-spot. Louder moans reverberated in the student’s mouth as an orgasm mounted.

“Mm! Hmm! Ahh!” Stacy arched her back and cried out. Her legs snapped shut around Carmen’s thigh and hand, pussy conforming to every ridge of the invasive digits, while a deluge of milk poured from her nipples. Still wreathed in her sanity, Carmen lunged down, captured a tit with her teeth and inhaled around it, tasting the deliciously rich, smooth and sweet fluid. The other nipple gushed as she tugged on it with her spare hand, drenching her hair and back in the fountain.

“Oooh, Carmen,” Stacy cooed as she came down, though her snatch still convulsed, rippling around the fingers as they gently pushed to and fro. The scent of sex saturated the air now, Carmen’s tongue was inundated in milk, her hands deep in Stacy’s buoyant breast and soaked pussy, while their eyes lingered on one another. Adoration and lust raged in both, though Stacy’s were clouded from the recent climax. Carmen pulled free with a lewd pop, milk splashing onto her cheeks, as she kissed her lover once more. She extracted her fingers and brought them between the two.

Stacy’s heady musk compelled her tongue forth and she licked the extremities clean. Whether a factor of age, or attributed to her pure lust, Stacy’s cum was thicker than anything Carmen had produced. Spicy, bittersweet flavours treated her tongue as a bed for their own intimacy, spurring her own cunt to drool in desire. It made her wonder if she’d ever tasted anything so delicious. Her own cunt surely didn’t compare, even as it dripped down her thighs in a cry for attention.

“Not gonna share?” Stacy asked, her tongue extended, but not reaching for the fingers.

“Apologies,” Carmen grinned and pressed her fingers into the woman’s mouth. Her breath hitched as Stacy’s supple tongue swirled around her, clearing spit and cum from her digits. She suckled on them as well, as if they were a set of long nipples. Or cocks, Carmen’s mind supplied, flashing back to Zoey in the locker room. The images were hounded into a corner of her mind.

This was her and Stacy’s moment. No Ryuka. No Futa Note. No futanari. Period.


“Yes?” The matronly coffee lover released the fingers and smirked up at her, eyes half-lidded and burning with renewed desire.

“I want to taste you. Fresh,” Carmen said and, not waiting for a reply, slid down her lover’s milk sodden body, until she was crouched on all fours between her thighs. Was there a more beautiful sight than a plump pussy, framed by delicious thighs piled high with fat, and tinted with slight muscles, to the wealth of labia that kept her gorgeous vulva from view? Carmen parted the folds with a pair of fingers and stared, watching as the insides twitched from her reverent breaths.

A mixture of sweat and pussy juice rolled down Stacy’s skin. Carmen shuffled in closer, until her lips were an inch away. Just the smell alone would be enough to soak her panties, with the sight and sound of her lover combined, however, it took all her willpower not to fuck herself to a dizzying array of orgasms. Only her self-control and thirst for Stacy’s cum kept such urges at bay.

She trailed her fingertips across the lush woman’s thigh and along the shape of her crotch, leaning in further all the while. Womanly musk immersed her sinuses, masking all other aromas and hypnotising her. Carmen prided herself on discipline, on the ability to keep from making rash decisions, but this was no place for such pride. Passion took the reins and shoved her forward, mashing her lips and nose into Stacy’s rich labia.

“Ahh! Not so fast, Baby, hmm… that’s it,” Stacy moaned from above, reacting to every change in Carmen’s approach. She worked her jaw and tongue in tandem, lapping and nibbling her employer’s folds. The plump woman arched her hips and rubbed her pussy into Carmen’s mouth, grinding her clit against the girl’s nose and slavering her in juices. No other taste or smell came through the dense fog of cunt.

It was delicious, as if pleasure itself was condensed into a viscous nectar that Carmen gorged herself on. Her mouth covered the lush mound, lips sealed tight around it. The spongy folds submitted to her tongue’s wild ministrations as it fluttered and rammed inside, catching the heavenly fluid directly. Only mere droplets could escape as she devoured her lover’s cunt.

She couldn’t hold back another moment and reached down for her own salivating snatch. Already, her thighs were caked in the precursor to her orgasm, gelatinous ropes closed the gap between limbs and her pussy. Carmen rubbed her nether-lips, stimulating a thicker flow, before she shoved three fingers to the knuckle. Her clit poked against her palm as she worked, each thrust sending a shockwave that would domino into Stacy as Carmen’s moans heightened, the vibrations echoing in the coffee lover’s devoured pussy.

“Ahh god! So good, so fucking good,” Stacy said, hips rolling with the subtle motions of Carmen’s jaw, “No one’s eaten me so good. Come on, Baby, eat momma out some more. Drown in my cum. Ah fuck, I’ve never felt so good before.”

Never? Carmen glanced at her employer. Surely she had been married once, or at least in several previous relationships? Yet she said Carmen was the best? The honour student, her life ruled by grades and excelling at everything she could, redoubled her efforts. If Stacy thought so highly of her, then she would exceed those expectations. She would blow them apart. She would make her beautiful lover cum until she begged her to stop.

“Cumming!” Stacy suddenly cried.

Carmen stopped in shock, having expected to take another minute at least, yet the pussy around tongue and in her mouth didn’t lie. Pulsations thundered through it, the walls clenching around her trapped muscle, before a deluge of fem-cum flooded her maw. A tidal wave poured down her chin and onto the sheets below. Stacy cried again and another pulse went through her cunt, preceding a second release. Carmen swallowed it all this time, jaw working to get every drop of tart juices down her gullet.

The squirts died down, but she wasn’t done. Carmen sealed her mouth to the main hole, tongue squirming within, and brought her thumb to the clit. A moment later and Stacy was caught in ecstasy again.

“So soon?! Ahh! Yes, yes! Drink it, Carmen! Drink my cum! Then my milk! Hmm, my titties are so full!” Gone was Stacy’s caring, motherly tone, replaced instead by a husky slut’s voice that demanded satisfaction. Carmen was all too glad to supply it. A few quick, yet no less effective moves later and Stacy was cumming again. Her legs locked around Carmen’s head and pulled tight to her cunt, suffocating her nose in the fat folds, then exploded once more. Carmen moaned with her, approaching her own orgasm. She looked to Stacy’s face, hoping to either see it twisted in bliss, or to meet her eyes. It was neither.

Stacy had her mouth latched firmly to her breast. Thick rivers of milk oozed from her lips, while the other breast squirted with abandon. Carmen took a final gulp of cum, then propelled herself forward, breaking free of Stacy’s legs, and engulfed the spare nipple. She replaced her mouth with four fingers, then, as Stacy came time and again, her entire fist. Eventually, the tsunami finished and Stacy’s cries faded into soft moans, broken only by her and Carmen’s insatiable gulping.

“That was…” Stacy later said, the two resting side by side, hand in hand and each covered in pussy juice. Though Carmen had yet to cum.

“Delicious,” Carmen finished, licking around her lips. Here she had thought that, perhaps, Stacy’s cum was the greatest thing she would taste in her lifetime. It certainly beat out the boring meals she called dinner. But the addition of milk, its overpowering sweetness balanced against the tartness of her lover’s juices, was a combination made in Heaven. Regardless of whether she came, Carmen had rarely felt so calm.

“I was going to say ‘incredible’,” Stacy giggled, then she turned over and rested on her elbow, her heavy breasts falling to lay upon the bed and each other. The nipples were still erect, leaking stray drops of milk. She was a goddess of excess and fertility, with a body ripe to be adored, and already prepared for motherhood. Carmen bit her lip as she followed her employer’s lead and took in her abundant frame.

Pregnancy was a distant concept for her. While family was important to her, to the point that it superseded her own happiness, she hadn’t given thought to a child of her own. Carmen looked to her belly, flat save for the faint indents of burgeoning abs, over the monumental swell of her breasts, then to Stacy’s. Motherhood would suit the coffee proprietor, no doubt about it. She already looked like a mother. A beautiful, sexy mother.

“Do you have any kids?” Carmen asked, wrenching her employer’s eyes from her young body. It made her smile, knowing that Stacy was as enamoured by her body as she was with hers.

“No, sadly. I never found the right man. Or woman for that matter,” Stacy said and circled her nipple, “Such a waste isn’t it? I make enough milk for a dozen babies and I don’t even have of my own.”

“I…” Carmen gulped and leaned down to suckle on the nipple, “Don’t worry, I’ll drink it all for you.”

“Actually, I have a confession,” Stacy said.


“Well, I have a secret ingredient that I put in every cup of coffee. Except the black ones.”

“Your breast milk?”

Stacy blushed, “Yes.”

Carmen didn’t answer for a second and, instead, kissed her deeply. She pulled back when they were out of breath, “I thought there was something familiar about the taste,” she said, licking a stray drop of milk from her lover’s cheek.

“Such a naughty girl,” Stacy chuckled and kissed her again, “Why’d you ask about kids anyway?”

“Well, I… uh…”

“It’s alright. We don’t have to rush anything. You’ve got your life ahead of you. And I’d wager I’ve still got a good few years in me.”

“Thanks,” Carmen said and resumed the kiss, ignoring the light jab at the age difference between them. This woman may be old enough to be her mother, but she was also her lover. It almost made her laugh; what did that say about Carmen herself?

“You know,” Carmen said during a slight break, “You’d look amazing with a baby.”

“Everyone says so,” Stacy laughed, “Now, enough talk. You’ve tasted everything I have to offer. I think it’s time you return the favour.”

Carmen’s breath hitched in her throat and anxiety clouded her head. No, it poured into her skull, pressing against the bone from within. Her chest felt as if it might cave in. What was it? Why should she be worried? This was Stacy. They’d done so much together, yet having her own pussy involved crossed some undrawn line. That made no sense. Rather, it did, more so than what she lived with. This was her most private part of her body, something she hadn’t allowed anyone to such as view aside from her parents or doctors.

“Shh,” Stacy cooed and kissed down her neck, smothering her nerves with those soft pillows and saliva, “Everything’s scary the first time we do it. I can’t tell you how nervous I was when I had my first times with boys and girls. I’ll help you.”

Stacy laid down and directed Carmen to straddle her face. She did so, muscles tight as she hovered above her employer. No one had come so close to her pussy before, not in a sexual sense. Now Stacy was mere inches away, so close that her soft breaths were like hurricanes.

“You smell so good,” Stacy murmured, then her tongue extended and ran across Carmen’s inner thigh, eliciting a sharp gasp, “And the taste is exquisite.” Carmen focused on her lover’s legs, determined to take her mind off the nerves that threatened to topple her. Despite how much weight piled itself on Stacy’s chest and round belly, more somehow found its way to her thighs. Yes, someone of poor taste would call her fat, as if that was a terrible thing. But Carmen understood the beauty of it.

She moaned as Stacy kissed her vagina. Just that fleeting contact had her dripping for more, while her eyes devoured the feast before her. From Stacy’s stomach, a gentle swell compared to her abundance of tits and sides, her body ballooned into door crowding hips and thighs no man could turn down. Not the smart ones at least. The dumb and blind would forever be ignorant to the pleasure such softness provided.

Hidden beneath it all was Stacy’s ass. Carmen bit her bottom lip and resolved to sample the rotund flesh thoroughly before this was over. For the meantime, however, she relaxed into the burst of pecks and slurping kisses on her privates. The sharp explosions of pleasure gave out to a long, rolling wave as Stacy licked her from bottom to top, where she suckled on the expansive clit. It had followed her body’s lead and swollen into a plump pod of tightly packed nerves.

“Your pussy’s so beautiful, Carmen,” Stacy said, “Fuck, your everything is beautiful.”

“You’re, hmm… just saying that.”

“No,” Stacy firmly refuted, “It’s the truth.”

“I-I know,” Carmen chuckled. Even if she hadn’t wished for this form, she couldn’t refuse how stunning she had become. By a human’s standards, she was the perfect girl. Long, dark hair, large eyes, gently pronounced cheekbones, lush lips. If she had met a stranger with such a visage, she might’ve broken her no masturbation rule. But that said nothing of her overendowed chest, which curved from her torso like elegant hills capped with stout nipples and areolae, or her sleek waist and shoulders, or her hips that covered any chair she sat in.

She was a bombshell. An unnatural babe that would never have looked so gorgeous without a magic book. Or that’s what she assumed caused it. Ryuka was also a suspect.

“Hmm,” Stacy hummed, the vibrations transitioned to Carmen’s clit, pulling a high moan from her, “I should’ve made a move on you sooner.”

“Y-yeah?” Carmen struggled to keep herself steady as her lover incorporated her hands, using them to fondle the student’s heavy breasts, or to massage her voluptuous rear.

“From the moment I hired you, in fact. You were stunning from the get-go. I can’t tell you how often I fingered myself while thinking of you.” Each word was a gentle shock of pleasure on Carmen’s pussy, which gladly shared its delight with the rest of her body.

“Hmm, yeah,” Carmen moaned and sank lower. She gasped and rolled her hips as Stacy went into proper action now. Her older, experienced tongue swirled around Carmen’s pussy and clit, stopped as she suckled on the folds, then thrust into her hole while the lips massaged her vulva. Stacy spread her ass, creating better access, while the fingers teased at the puckered hole therein. Though obscured by the voluptuous cheeks, Stacy’s face was a mask of lust and fluids, eyes locked to Carmen’s staring orbs.

Carmen rolled her hips and ground her pussy into her lover’s tongue, watching as her cheeks covered Stacy’s head in their luscious curves. She could smother the woman if she wasn’t careful. Fire flashed and fem-cum poured from within her crotch at the idea, forcing her to arch her back and mash her cunt onto Stacy’s tongue. The sinuous muscle slithered within her, searching for, and finding, her favourite spots. Each lick offered a fresh spark in the constant, dizzying array of pleasures.

Where her nerves had once threatened to deprive her of this, only lust remained. Carmen moaned and leaned forward, raising her ass to maximise contact with her salivating pussy. Unbidden, Stacy retracted her tongue and laid it flat. She wriggled it, an offer for Carmen to use her as she saw fit. All hesitation evaporated from her mind.

Lewd juices and saliva mixed and poured across Stacy’s face as Carmen rode her. She ran her cunt from top to bottom across her employer’s tongue and lips, replacing spit with her cum, dousing taste-buds in her flavour, and drowning out any sound with her moans. At the clit, she paused and wriggled side-to-side, basking in the sharp bursts of bliss.

“Ah, yeah… eat my pussy, Stacy. Eat it. Taste it. Drown in me,” Carmen groaned as her lover gurgled on the flood of juices. The adult woman’s earlier squirt was impressive, yet Carmen had already surpassed it as she rode the rising tides. Between the two, Stacy’s bed was soaked through with her milk and their cum. The smell would saturate the mattress and air for months, if not years to come. And Stacy would live within that odour, constantly aroused by it, in need for a fresh dose every moment she was home.

Carmen slouched forward and braced herself on her love’s bountiful tits. Soft and full, they made for the perfect support, even as they slathered her hands in milk, much like her cunt did to Stacy’s lips, cheeks, chin and neck. A ravishing image, one she intended to savour once this was done. She spied Stacy’s own cunt, braced between her raised, voluptuous thighs, and her throat went dry. Without a word, she fell forward and buried her face between them once more.

Their moans echoed each other with eerie precision. It almost seemed that their pussies were linked; as one gushed in pleasure, the other followed suit. As Carmen’s overflowed Stacy’s mouth, the latter defiled the bed. If Carmen left that day with any regret, aside from letting her desire overwhelm her as it had, it was not being able to see the sight she was responsible for. And with good reason.

On either side of Carmen’s head were two legs packed full with delicious weight, smooth and creamy, such that she wanted to lick them clean with her very tongue. She had her arms wrapped tight around them, savouring the plushness as her tongue dove into Stacy’s cunt. Her breasts were squashed against her chest where they laid against Stacy’s plump gut, while the coffee-lover’s own fell to gravity and framed Carmen’s undulating lower half, still lodged against her lover’s head.

Each shift in their weight caused the mattress to squelch from the milk and cum that saturated it. Carmen was the core culprit, as her knees refused to be still, always in search of a better angle to attain new, vaster pleasures. She had Stacy’s face trapped, locked tight between her thighs, muffling the sounds of her swelling ecstasy, and concealed beneath her bountiful rear.

Despite her wish to see such a view, her imagination recreated it as best it could, dousing the inferno of her arousal with gasoline. Carmen’s moans reached a fever pitch, above the squeak and squelching of the bed, even muffled against her sensuous employer’s cunt, even as she gurgled on the abundance of girl-cum. Each drop made her own snatch leak, each gulp made it drool, and each sudden burst made it gush. Combined with Stacy’s slight but effective tongue movements, Carmen found herself flung into ecstasy.

Before she could throw her head back and shriek her bliss to the skies, Carmen was caught within Stacy’s legs, which adhered her to her cunt. Stacy sputtered and moaned and cried out as she was swept up in bliss as well, all while drowning in Carmen’s orgasm. As both started to calm, they resumed their ministrations, enforcing a second climax upon the other.

Masturbation was incredible. Carmen refused to indulge in it, in large part thanks to Ryuka’s constant presence and goading, however that didn’t blind her to its pleasure. The few times she had made herself explode in such a way were incredible. Yet this… this moment, caught between the first and second, soon to be third, of rapid-fire orgasms, was a bliss she never expected to know. Much less as intimately as she now did.

Every nerve ending across her body was alive where they had felt dead before. The window was cracked open, from which the faintest breeze snuck in. Anyone else would have ignored it, but to Carmen, with every facet of her being alight with ecstasy, the air was a duplicate of Stacy’s inexhaustible tongue. The soaked bedsheets were expert fingers. The quivering fat of her lover’s belly on her nipples was a pair of bullet vibrators attached to her tits. Even the gush of juices against her face provided more pleasure.

But beneath all the lust and bliss, her cognisant mind, reduced to a puny whimper at the corner of her mind, wondered how she could ever come back from such pleasure. How could she return to a life without it?

For the moment, however, she indulged in every sensation she’d refused herself. Her dwindling moans revitalised as Stacy, on a sudden whim, abandoned her pussy for her asshole. It didn’t seem to matter what hole it was, as the plump woman tongued it with the same fervour as ever. Strange sensations gave way to a new bliss, as her ass was pleasured for the first time. Her fourth orgasm ricocheted through her body and mind, sapping her of strength.

“That was…” Carmen shook her head, letting the words trail off. How could she even describe that? It was heaven, if only for a brief moment. Now she laid beside Stacy among the mess of that heaven. Neither of them were spared. Their hair was soaked, matted to their skin and the pillows, faces a mess, and Stacy’s breasts were coated in layers of milk. The air reeked of sex, though Carmen suspected that was in part due to the drying juices on her lips and nose. All was silent but for their synchronous pants and heartbeats.

Carmen laid against Stacy, head resting on her boob, listening to her heartbeat. Their legs were entwined, a mess of limbs and sheets. Laying there, Carmen realised just how huge her lover’s breasts were. Before, she had only seen them from afar, or up close when she was caught in her lust and thirst. Now, with her head clear and desire just a mild throbbing in her pussy, she relished how they almost dwarfed her head. She gently licked the one she laid upon, slowly cleaning it of the spilled milk.

“Amazing,” Stacy finished a while later.

“Hmm,” Carmen nodded and reached around to find her lover’s hand, holding it tight, “How was it? Being my first?”

Stacy chuckled, “I never would’ve guessed.”


“Oh, you were fantastic, Carmen,” Stacy said and stroked her hair, returning the grip on her hand, “I don’t know what it is, but the moment you touched me… it was like a rush of sex. If I wasn’t holding back for so long, I would’ve cum in seconds.”

“Glad to hear it,” Carmen said and nestled deeper into the breast, squeezing a fresh trickle of milk out, “So, when’s the shop opening?”

“I think it can handle being closed for the day,” Stacy said, “I believe I’ve got some hands-on employee training to manage.”

“Oh? Getting some new girls?”

“Not yet. Besides, there’s only one girl I want right now.”

Carmen mock gasped, “Oh no! Who?”

“I think you know her. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, huge, lovable tits and an ass I would be happy to suffocate under,” Stacy chuckled and pulled her up and into a deep kiss, both sampling the remnants of the other’s pussy on their lips.

“Hey, Stacy?” Carmen asked as she straddled her lover’s stomach, looking down on her from above the plentiful hills of her own tits.


“If… and this is completely hypothetical, but if I could, like, change my body in any way you want, what would you do?”

“Dear, I know not to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re already gorgeous.”

“I know, but this is a ‘what if’. So, say, if you wanted me to have bigger boobs, or to be taller… would you?”

Stacy glanced around, then sighed, and took hold of Carmen’s breasts, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t have some… extravagant tastes.”

“Oh? Such as?” Carmen couldn’t understand why she was asking these things. She hoped it was out of simple curiosity, rather than a subconscious urge to write her name in the Futa Note. But if it was subconscious, then would she even recognise it? No. She would. There was no chance that she wouldn’t notice such a desire. That said, if Stacy wanted her to, transforming herself might not be the end of everything.

Stop it! Carmen betrayed nothing of her internal argument, which rapidly devolved into a two-sided shouting match, her rational and lustful minds screaming for the other to be silent. She couldn’t lose herself so easily. Besides, the Futa Note was already changing her. Any reason she might to write her own name was redundant at best.

“… cock…”

Carmen blinked at the word, realising she’d missed most of Stacy’s words, “What?”

“I think we might need some cock,” Stacy said and slid Carmen to the side. She retrieved the box of toys Carmen saw last time, and pulled a massive strap-on from it, “So? Pitching or catching?”

“Pitching,” Camren blurted, staring at the foot-long plastic penis. It didn’t match up to Zoey’s cock, but it was sizable, nonetheless.

“Thought so.”

Carmen returned home that evening, exhausted but ecstatic. Despite her insistence, Stacy had treated her to a nice dinner, with enough leftovers to take home for Melody and her mother. They’d showered as well, cleaning each other with the thoroughness only lovers could provide. If Stacy hadn’t thought Carmen was a boob-lover earlier, she certainly did now, as Carmen had almost wasted all the hot water on lathering her girlfriend’s tits in her affections. They had agreed to do it all again as soon as Stacy could get another evening off.

That night, Carmen laid in bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. She was too tired to study, though she considered it a fair trade. Her sleep had been suffering as of late. Ryuka was smirking down at her, supernatural senses attuned to the glow that sex provided a woman.

“So, how was it?” Ryuka asked after they were certain Melody was asleep.

“Amazing,” Carmen murmured.

“Gonna write her name?”

“No… hmm, now shut up,” Carmen said and rolled over. Even her lumpy, spring-stabbing mattress couldn’t detract from the residual joy of coitus. She slept in the warmth of her memories, recreated with obsessive accuracy in her dreams.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 20 - Pushed

Summer had found its foothold. Stuffy coats and baggy sweaters were replaced by light t-shirts and shorts, skirts and blouses, unless one’s culture demanded otherwise, such as the goths who huddled together in the school’s shadow every lunch break to smoke, clad in leather or dense black coats. The popular cliques used it to show off the cutest designs money could buy, the sluts bared all that they could get away with, and the plain stuck to the usual of mimicry, desperate for a place. Carmen ignored them all. She didn’t have much other choice.

Stalking thrift stores and taking whatever charity they could left few options. A blue shirt, sometimes a few stainless whites, and perhaps a summery blouse were all she could find, and half of which no longer fit. Whatever the Futa Note was doing, it had culled her options to the barest essentials, unless she wanted to dress like Mary.

“Just let me buy you a few things,” Mary said, exasperated. They sat outside, under a large, filled out tree that provided a gentle ambience as the breeze rustled its leaves. She wore a sleeveless shirt, cropped to show off her navel, and a pair of pants so short her member almost peaked out. “It’ll be fun! And I swear I won’t pick out anything ‘risqué’.”

“Last time you said that, I wound up wearing nothing but lace,” Dakota said.

“Once,” Mary added.

“It’s fine,” Carmen said, shaking her head, “I think Zoey needs the help more than I do. Can’t be easy for you.”

“No, it’s alright,” Zoey shrugged, setting her luscious curves jiggling beneath her strained shirt. Since the race two months ago, she’d become a true Amazon. Eight feet tall, Carmen estimated, and still growing. She couldn’t bring herself to remove that aspect from the Futa Note, not since Zoey enjoyed it. In every aspect, she was the largest of the school. Though not the smartest. Carmen made sure to hold that distinction.

Mary just rolled her eyes, “You got me beat for now, Zo, but these puppies are catching up.” She referred to her breasts, augmented by implants too large for a teenager, though they’d started growing in the past months. Carmen feigned ignorance when Mary had announced the fact.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoey snickered. For better or worse, the Futa Note had created this moment. Carmen leaned against the tree, content to listen to her friends and savour the breeze on her skin. Even Ryuka, who kicked her feet from a branch overhead, couldn’t dampen the mood. Only one person could do so, and she was off-campus somewhere, making life miserable for others.

Lunch would be over soon, then it was back to monotony. But, fleeting as it always seemed, a moment of happiness was enough for Carmen. Graduation wasn’t far, after that, she could take greater strides towards bringing her family into this fold. No more double-shifts for her mother, no more rags for her sister, and no more Gretchen for herself. That alone was worth the price of any college.

“Anyone got any plans?” Dakota asked.

“What? For later?” Mary said.

“No, I mean college. Like, what’re you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Mary shrugged, “Zoey? Got any ideas?”

“Not sure yet. Probably something athletic. Or maybe I could just work as a bouncer. Put these guns to work!” Zoey chuckled, flexing her impressive arms. She already was, to an extent. With her around, Gretchen didn’t dare make any direct moves on Carmen or her friends, not after the media latched onto the fact that Zoey was ‘trans’. Expulsion would result in a backlash, the kind that Saint Puella couldn’t survive at this point. Though it wouldn’t survive regardless. One more year at most.

“Carmen?” Dakota sped up to walk beside her.

“Hmm? I’m still figuring it out,” Carmen said.

“You could literally do anything,” Mary said, leering at the honour student’s chest, “Ever thought of modelling?”

“No,” Carmen chuckled, “I want to do something meaningful. Maybe I’ll just be a doctor.”

“Oh? Become a plastic surgeon, that way you can give me a discount,” Mary said.

“I thought you were done with that,” Dakota frowned at her.

“Well, yeah… sort of. I mean, I don’t have Ashley around to pay for it anymore. I guess I like being a little plastic,” Mary squeezed her breasts. They had more give now, having piled on more fat around the implants, though their spherical shape hadn’t dissipated enough. Anyone would know their true origins at a glance.

“You’re not the only one,” Dakota said and copped a feel, a sly grin on her face.

“Quit it,” Mary laughed and swatted at the other futa.

People gave them a wide berth in the halls. It was natural for the students, as they did so whenever Gretchen walked through, and had done so for Mary just a few months prior. Now Carmen was in a similar position, at the head of three other ‘girls’ that used to hang out together, their leader in a sense. Only a liar would deny the satisfaction it gave.

Carmen grinned at her company. Relief saturated the air around Saint Puella’s senior students, those who knew that in under a month, they’d be free. Whether they used that to enrich their lives, or just to bask in Gretchen’s absence, was up to them.

“I think you’d make a great doctor,” Zoey said.

“Really?” Carmen asked. She’d thought about it before. They made plenty of money, however med school was a financial nightmare, and the hours of study she’d have to put in made it seem like an impossible dream. For now. If she played her cards right, that could be her ultimate future. In the meantime, she could find something lucrative and milk it for all it had, “It’s too expensive, though.”

“Get a scholarship,” Mary said, “You’re smart enough for one.”

“That doesn’t cover everything,” Carmen sighed, “I’ll just figure it out when the time comes. So long as I make good money from it, I don’t really mind what I do.”

“Maybe whore yourself out?” A familiar, venomous voice suggested. It dripped with disgust layered in saccharine, reverberating with falsehood. Carmen didn’t acknowledge it and kept walking. What power Gretchen held would soon vanish, and she’d be left as a petulant child, alone and desperate. After graduation, Carmen didn’t care if the vile bitch drowned or overdosed. She was nothing in the grand scheme.

Seeing that she didn’t response, Gretchen turned to Mary, “No, that’s your piece de resistance, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” Mary snapped.

“Hey, a bitch with bite. Never seen that before. What about you, Rachel?”

“No,” the petite redhead at her side agreed, “Then again, the one who does nothing must be pathetic. Guess she’s that scared.”

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded from behind the two, hiding away from Mary’s glare. Carmen turned to observe and caught Rachel’s eyes, each a vibrant green like the freshest grass, yet they were ashen with disdain. And none of it was spread between Dakota, Mary or Zoey. Only Carmen.

“You know, I think you’re gonna love tomorrow,” Gretchen said, strolling by, though no one moved aside for her. She paused and beamed at Carmen, though her eye twitched at the lack of reaction, “Especially you.”

“Whatever,” Carmen said and turned away. The bell rang for classes just as she stepped through the door, leaving Gretchen in the middle of a breath. She sat close to the window just as always and stared across the city. Almost every career path was open to her, it all depended on what she chose. Of course, they could all be hers with a few simple sentences.

She snapped her gaze to the front and brushed her bag with her leg. Inside the dilapidated rucksack was the Futa Note, ready and waiting for her to use it again, as was the Seikogami that toyed with a lock of hair longer than Carmen was tall.

“This is boring,” Ryuka said, and reclined in the air. Her breasts fell and quivered mere inches from Carmen’s face, “Depressingly so. I can’t even masturbate like this.”

“Good,” Carmen muttered and focused on her textbook. Exams were coming. Supernatural or not, she couldn’t afford distractions. These could make or break her plan.

“Just give me the book,” Ryuka said, “I’ll go have some fun and be right back. You won’t have to feel any guilt.”

“No,” Carmen said, “You’ll just write my name or something. I refuse to give anyone, especially you, that much control over me.”

“But you have no problem exerting it over others?”

“Of course not,” Carmen said, her hand paused mid-letter. She didn’t. She’d taken control of three people, turned them into what she figured was best, aside from the futanari aspect, yet she couldn’t find the remorse she’d felt at first. Why would she? Everything had turned out for the better. Those people were her friends now, they were happier, focused, free, all because of her.

“Then why not use it?” Ryuka inquired. She floated around until her expansive bosom was squashed against Carmen’s desk, consuming the north in her creamy flesh, “Surely that Gretchen girl deserves something.”

“She does, but I’m not about to write her name. She’s just a bitch. Besides, she’ll be gone in a little while. There’s no point.”

“Spoilsport,” Ryuka pouted.

Later, Carmen stepped into the comfort of Stacy’s embrace. It wasn’t time for the usual rush and only a few people occupied the cosy space, none of which paid them any mind, so the two snuck a quick kiss.

“How was school?” Stacy asked while Carmen pulled an apron on. It was new, embroidered with a heart around her name, and a small, almost unnoticeable, padlock to it. Stacy had said she’d bought it on a whim, though her own apron shared the same flare. In the back, two other girls worked. Their names were Rebecca and Holly, neither paid much mind to Carmen and she returned the favour.

“Alright. Just the usual stuff,” Carmen said.

“Gretchen’s still giving you trouble?”

“Not really. I think she’s getting desperate with graduation coming up.”

“I can’t wait,” Stacy said.

“Me neither.” It wasn’t the fact that a vacation would give Carmen more time to work, or that she would be free to spend more time with Stacy, but that they could go away together. The plan was for one week, all alone, in a cabin up some hill. On further research, there was one perfect for their wishes. Foot traffic was rare, and it was inaccessible by car, though it still had cell phone reception for emergencies. No one would bother them there.

Just the thought of it made Carmen’s heart skip and her thighs clench. She took a long breath and pushed the thoughts away for now. Getting wet at work begged for disaster to occur.

“Did you milk yourself this morning?” Carmen asked.

“I’m not a child, Carmen. I can take care of myself,” Stacy giggled, “But I stopped a bit earlier than normal. Just for you.”

“Thanks,” Carmen said and stole a quick peck on the cheek, before righting her posture as the first of many customers entered. A tide built before long, mostly men, all with familiar, lecherous faces. Accustomed, Carmen ignored their gazes and did her job, enticing them to spend more money than they reasonably should, while still giving her a generous tip. If this kept up, she could afford med school, but she needed more. A little extra skin wouldn’t hurt. The thought almost made her slip up.

When time came for a break, she contemplated the idea and her chest. Even now, she purported more cleavage than she’d like. It was inevitable given her selection of tops and the magnitude of her bosom, which had flourished further. They were close to Stacy’s size but perkier, proud on her chest despite the lack of support. She was already using them for her own means, going a touch further couldn’t be any worse. When all eyes had left her, she adjusted her top to bare another inch of breast. The tips corresponded.

At least she wasn’t stripping. Money was second only to her family, but she couldn’t sacrifice dignity for it either, not unless things became desperate. That wouldn’t happen. Things were stable now, better in fact, since the law firm her mom temped at had landed better cases, they even offered her a full-time position with better pay, and Stacy was earning enough to give Carmen a small raise. Which she hoped wasn’t due to their weekly ‘bonding’ sessions.

After break, Carmen worked with a full stomach and Stacy with emptied breasts. Even sucked dry, they had a hint of pert to them, as if they were already filling up for another milking, though Stacy had lost some weight. People did claim sex was a great form of weight-loss, however she hoped it wasn’t that good; Stacy’s voluptuous form was one of the few indulgences Carmen had.

Not that it mattered. With, or without it, she would love Stacy. Simple as that. Their attraction wasn’t purely physical.

Carmen exhaled as the final customer left. The sun was setting and, without a cloud in sight, the sky was bathed in fire, broken by wisps of smoke and airplanes. She stretched and removed her apron, highlighting the majesty of her bust for Stacy’s eyes, a quick tease for Friday.

“See you Wednesday,” Carmen said.

“I’ll call tomorrow,” Stacy whispered to her.

“Looking forward to it,” Carmen stole a short but loving kiss and left. Yes, things were stable now. She had a girlfriend, her job was going well, and soon college would be in her reach. Tomorrow, she would look into nearby med schools. If it was close enough, she could stay on with Stacy. Maybe even use her for practice. The thought ripped a giggle from her lips.

“Someone’s giddy,” Ryuka noted, descending from the unknown. Carmen didn’t know where she went during work hours, regardless she was glad that the god gave her some privacy with Stacy.

“Things are looking up,” Carmen said and smiled at her supernatural stalker.

“For you maybe,” Ryuka sulked, “You haven’t even touched the damn book. And I can’t watch you and Stacy get nasty. It’s boring.”

“Find someone else,” Carmen shrugged, “It’s a big city. Gotta be some kinky weirdos around.”

“It’s my own fault really. If I wasn’t so worried that I’d miss you finally giving in, I’d have done that. But it’ll be worth it,” Ryuka said and hovered closer. She took a long breath, swelling her chest into Carmen’s back, dragging the long nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt, “Your potential is fantastic. A Seikogami can smell these things, brimming beneath the surface. Everyone has that unspoken or repressed fetish. But you, hmm,” she sighed as if smelling the finest bouquet and dinner at once, “There’s no telling.”

“I guess I’ll take the compliment,” Carmen rolled her eyes. She didn’t have any secret fetishes. The mother-daughter roleplay she did with Stacy wasn’t uncommon, less so with Stacy’s bountiful lactation, and being the one on top whenever they used toys was just a sign of her drive. Nothing strange there.

Her sleep had improved in the last few weeks. She didn’t care to admit it, but her breasts made for magnificent pillows, and their weight made it oddly simple to drift off, like a permanent comforter on her chest. While her actual pillows and sheets protected her from the jagged springs in her mattress, Carmen curled into herself and nuzzled her bosom. It wasn’t the same as Stacy’s, but a close second.

And Melody was doing better too. Her birthday had come and gone. They’d gone out to an authentic Japanese bathhouse, one designed for families, and had their first proper bath in years. Astounding to think what simple clean, hot water could do for someone. Even Alicia’s fatigue had dwindled afterwards, though its return was steady. Not much longer, Carmen thought as she snuggled into herself. Everything would work out. The world owed her that much.

Morning came, normal as could be. Carmen woke from a pleasant, enigmatic dream to the errant ray of late Spring sunlight, while its slighter cousins broke through the cracks in the ceiling. Opposite her, Melody stirred. Ryuka hovered nearby, seemingly asleep despite having her phallus draped across her breasts while she nuzzled against it. The honour student grinned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up, happy enough to face another day. One more down.

Then she felt it. Something that shouldn’t be. The potential of it had nibbled at the furthest abyss of her thoughts, creeping up at random, now it was realised. Carmen froze and watched her sister mumble and turn away, before she flung off her own meagre covers. She lowered her eyes, slow, as if she was looking away from a predator. A rush of cold flowed through her fingers then mitigated throughout her body. A slight chill, but the kind that’s impossible to identify or ignore.

“This isn’t happening,” Carmen whispered, cautious of alerting Melody.

Ryuka heard her, however, loud and clear. Of course, “Oh? So it finally happened?”

“Bathroom. Now,” Carmen growled. Once in the cramped space, she pulled her pants down to confirm what the bulge had already told her. There it was. Unwelcome. Unusual. And, above all, hideous. A penis, small and limp, hung over her privates like a cowl. Two balls filled a wrinkly sack beneath it, each no larger than a grape.

“What the fuck is this?!”

“Calm down,” Ryuka yawned, “It was bound to happen. You read the rules, did you not?”

“It never said anything about this!” Carmen said and sat on the toilet. She ran her hand through her hair, which had once been a dark, sandy blonde colour, now it was closer to black and longer than she liked to have it.

“Oh? My mistake,” Ryuka giggled.

“This isn’t funny! What if this gets in the way? And… oh god, Stacy! What is she gonna think?” Carmen curled into her, taking deep breaths and ignoring how the air felt on her… penis.

“I bet she’ll love you just as always,” Ryuka said.

“No she won’t,” Carmen sobbed, “I’m a freak. She’s nice, but this is… even she has her limits. Everything’s ruined. What hospital will hire a transsexual anyway?”

“Futanari,” Ryuka corrected.

“It’s doesn’t fucking matter,” Carmen said, then sighed and straightened out her clothes. A faint bulge was all that belied her new addition, “You’ve ruined my life.” She said and left to wake Melody.

Self-discipline comprised Carmen’s psyche. It afforded solidity where others would crack and crumble to dust. She had a phallus now, it was small and easily concealed with some choice attire, so no one would find out. Her vagina remained intact. If push came to shove, she would have the abomination removed from her body. Though she doubted the Futa Note would permit such a thing. Regardless, time marched on and so would she. This wasn’t the end. Perhaps even a blessing. Sensibilities towards genders were sky high, therefore this might work to her advantage in college.

For now, however, she had more important matters. She gave her darling sister a quick shake, to no avail. Her face remained lax, though her body tensed. Carmen grinned and rolled her eyes, cleared her throat, then announced.

“Goodness Supergirl! The city’s under attack!”

“Never fear!” Melody leapt from her bed and adopted a true hero’s pose, fists on her hips and chest puffed out in pride, before losing her footing and tipping back onto bed. She hopped straight back to the pose.

“Good, now eat some breakfast. Even superheroes need food,” Carmen said.

“But the crisis?!”

“Will wait,” Carmen chuckled, “I bet the big monster is eating its own breakfast right now. You’ve got time.”

“Alright,” Melody groaned, “Who’s the felon this time?”

“Oh, it’s the worst of the worst. Goes by the name; School.”

Melody played up a gag, “A foul name indeed.”

“Yes,” Carmen agreed and handed her a bowl of bland cereal, though she managed to offer a sprinkling of sugar, courtesy of Stacy. Hers stayed plain. They cleaned their teeth, brushed each other’s hair, then the bus arrived.

“Go get ‘em, Supergirl,” Carmen said.

“I will,” Melody smirked, though her expression was strained. A shared glance to the bus confirmed the worry. She was eight, of course there would be bullies, more so because of her situation.

“Don’t worry,” Carmen said and crouched beside her, “Things will get better. I promise.”

“I know,” Melody said.

“Stay strong,” Carmen stood and gave her slight shoulders a gentle squeeze. A group of boys on the bus were gawking at her, some had mischief in their eyes, planning to either tease or manipulate Melody in some way. Fury flashed in Carmen’s mind and leaked to her face, frightening the onlookers, “If they go too far, let me know. I’ll deal with it.”

“It’s okay,” Melody said and walked to the bus, waving to her older sibling. Things would change before long. Another year, maybe two, and they could move somewhere better. No more weekly baths, scraps for dinner, or rags for clothes. To do that, Carmen needed more work. A second job in the Summer would help, she could save up for college, then rise up in the world. Nothing would prevent that.

The walk to school was pleasant as ever. Vapours of the city were muted by the freshness of Spring, people remained docile as they staggered to work, still half-asleep, and Carmen remained just another face in the crowd. Traffic slowed as she turned a corner onto the street where Saint Puella teetered. A small group of people in suits were studying it and taking notes. Government officials, she assumed. Not that it mattered to her. After one more short month, the school would be a best forgotten memory.

Aside from a few factors. Carmen spotted Zoey on the opposite path and waved. Mary and Dakota were already on campus, waiting for them, and Gretchen was nowhere to be seen. If they were lucky, today was one where she ditched school altogether. Such luck passed over them. Minutes before the bell rang, Gretchen strutted into the scene. Ashley and Rachel backed her up, like always, as did a small group of unknown sycophants.

“Hey there, carpet munchers!” Gretchen said, “Oh, my bad. Two of you are trannies. Must be weird for you dykes, huh? You know, if you ever get sick of dick, Dakota, you could always come over sometime. I wouldn’t say no to a free eating out.”

“Fuck off,” Mary growled.

“Oh?” Gretchen’s eyes thinned to slits and her smile twisted into a knowing smirk, “News spreads fast, freak. I know all about you and Dakota fucking in the bathrooms.”

Zoey stepped in, “She said ‘fuck off’.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Touch me and I’ll get you arrested for sexual assault, after all, who’d believe a freakish tranny like you… Jesus, you’re like a fucking tree. Dumb as one, I bet. What do mommy and daddy spend on you, huh? Gotta be custom shit with tits like those. I guess the doctor lied when he said mine were the biggest he would do. Or maybe your ‘girlfriend’ buys all your shit for you?”

Zoey’s tan darkened to a dangerous shade, “I don’t give a fuck if I’m expelled, so leave, before I rip out your tits.”

Gretchen chortled at that, “Frightening.” It was, the earlier confidence in her eyes gave out to fear as she stepped away. She left with a final, condescending smirk to the group. Rachel also looked back, though her expression was torn between contempt and neutrality.

“What’s with her?” Dakota groaned, rubbing at her temples. She was flushed, as was Mary, “So, uh… cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

“About what?” Carmen asked.

“Us,” Dakota glanced to Mary, then to the ground, “You know, that we’re… uh…”

“I don’t care,” Carmen said, offering a grin to the pair, “I think it’s nice.”

“Same,” Zoey said. She pulled them both into a hug, her pristine musculature encompassing them with ease.

“Thanks,” Mary refused to meet anyone’s eyes, though her lips were tilted in gratitude, “Oh!” She broke free from Zoey and hefted her breasts, “They grew again.” Of course they had, Carmen thought. That was how she’d written it. With the latest spurt, her once plastic friend now sported the largest boobs in the school, while Zoey, Carmen and Gretchen nipped at her heels, and unlike before, they looked like they belonged. A hint of her implants kept their bases too full, however no one would notice at a glance. Even Carmen had difficulty despite her staring.

She blinked and snatched her gaze away. What was that? No one noticed to her fortune, only she had, and that was enough to warrant concern. Carmen shifted weight on impulse and felt her erection slip from her panties to rub against her thigh.

“Sorry guys, uh, gotta use the bathroom,” she said and rushed away. She slipped her bag to her front, using it to shield the obtuse shape.

“All students report to the gymnasium for a mandatory assembly!” Principal Blake’s voice rang through the school, hollow and tinny from the outdated sound system. A collective groan answered it. Carmen took a long breath, she wasn’t far from the gym. If she arrived soon enough, no one would notice. Others took a lethargic pace, while Carmen weaved between them, careful not to let her bag move and reached the gym without issue.

“Okay…” She sat toward the back, “Okay, this is fine. It gets hard, of course it would, but I can handle it. This doesn’t change anything.” Carmen let her words fade to a soft whisper as people piled in, before straightening her back. Doubt could come later. For now, she needed to maintain composure. Ten minutes later and almost the entire student body was present, barring the dropouts. Even Gretchen showed up. Mary and the others managed to get the seats beside Carmen.

“You alright?” Dakota asked.

“Yeah. Fine,” Carmen said.

“Okay,” Dakota’s tone didn’t match. She was suspicious. No one can know.

“Just some cramps. Think it’s that time,” Carmen said.

“Oh.” That placated her. Principal Blake took to the stage then, though she appeared uncertain of her footing. It surprised Carmen that the rotting wood even supported her. She called the murmuring masses to order.

“Quiet! Now, the reason I’ve called you here is to notify you of some changes to our graduation plans. We’ll be extending the senior class’s time here.”

“What?” Someone exclaimed. Carmen almost didn’t notice that it was herself.

“Settle down. It’s a preparatory measure. You see, funding has been down, so we’re planning on converting to a college prep school. Somewhere that students can go for a year before moving onto college. This means the senior class will stay on with us for one more year at the end of this term. And yes, it is mandatory. That is all. Dismissed.”

Everyone stood and left, the majority of them grumbling about how unfair it was. Carmen didn’t move. She stared at the podium where the principal had stood. Not far below it, she saw Gretchen’s sickening stream of blonde move. She was staring at her, expecting a reaction. But Carmen remained silent, going over her own thoughts. A glimpse of rage almost snapped her free, then Gretchen stood and left.

Everything had changed. Following the assembly, they were handed pamphlets explaining what would happen. The days were the same, but the hours were longer, leaving little time for Carmen to work. If she took too long a shift, then she couldn’t study. If she didn’t study, then she would falter and it would reflect on her records. College wouldn’t have been easy, but she could’ve manage with the added freedom it gave. This…

“Well? How’d you like that? I know you were so desperate not to say goodbye, so I got you another year with me,” Gretchen said, coming to leer over Carmen’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, I made sure you got the toughest subjects.”

Carmen remained lost. She walked away without a word, mind whirling, twisting in every direction but found no answer. Her mom would need more shifts to cover for her share, which meant she’d be further exhausted. The woman was in her forties, anything more than she already had would take its toll. Maybe she could reason with Principal Blake? No, she wouldn’t listen. This was likely a perfect chance to keep her best student around to show off her results.

“Aren’t you listening, you stupid lesbian shit?!” Gretchen snarled. Her words might’ve meant something on another day, but they were garbled now. Carmen spared her a glance and continued to her first class.

Later, she laid on her bed, back toward Melody, and scribbled a million potential plans on whatever paper she had. She refused to let her sister see her worry. Her phone sat to her side, untouched as it hadn’t rang yet. Stacy usually sent a text or called during her break. Must be busy, Carmen figured. An hour later and still nothing.

“Melody? Will you be alright by yourself for half an hour?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I need to visit a friend,” Carmen said and left, though she made certain the door locked into place. The streetlamps were on, adding their false illumination to the dwindling sunlight. People were more energetic now, freed from work and school. Some were already drunk or drinking, others smoked. She ignored it all, striding toward Soothe the Soul. She needed to hear Stacy’s voice. Just seeing her would be enough.

Yes, just having the chance to see her girlfriend’s always smiling face and incredible body would chase all her worries away. A hug would be better, then she could smell the wonderful perfume of sex and coffee that lingered on Stacy, even after they finished a long evening together, and feel her breasts. What better comfort than her lover’s soft, warm, oh so very inviting tits? Carmen’s were a poor substitute.

Her fantasies coalesced, froze, then shattered as she stared at the burning building ahead of her. People were gathered outside, recording the action as firefighters subdued the inferno. Nothing would escape from there unscathed. Carmen rubbed at her arms. Her fingers were numb, despite the blistering air, and spread their influence elsewhere.

What did she do?

“Carmen?” She turned at her name and saw the sight she’d craved, yet it was bleached in horror and coated in soot. The voice, once warm and loving, rasped now, like a serial smoker.

“What happened?” Carmen asked. She moved toward Stacy and held onto her, afraid either of them might fall. Stacy returned her grip.

“You can see what happened, can’t you?” Stacy panted. Her eyes swam in the fire, as if prepared to cry but deprived of the moisture to do so.

“You’re okay, though?”

“Yeah, some smoke inhalation, but nothing some rest won’t fix.”

“Thank god,” Carmen breathed and clung to her, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

But it was. For whatever reason, for some unimaginably small sleight she’d committed, the world wanted her to suffer. Now Stacy was part of that. Someone cleared their throat behind her. It was a man in a black suit, holding a series of papers.

“I’ll deal with this. You head home. I’ll try and call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Carmen said and reluctantly let go. She kept looking back. It might have been the distance, or the still blazing fire, but Stacy was crying. At home, Carmen rubbed at her stinging eyes. Her throat stung from the small bit of smoke she’d inhaled. She ignored it and went to check on Melody. A sobbing sound caught her in its grip.


Alicia looked up from the floor. Her back was against the couch and a cheap, half-empty bottle of wine was cradled in her arms. On closer inspection, it was almost emptied, with perhaps a mouthful left.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got fired. From both jobs,” Alicia said, slurring her words. She frowned and took the final gulp from her bottle, as if to wash away the foul taste of her words.

The floor swivelled beneath her, yet Carmen was forced to remain upright. A sense that she must maintain composure and sheer despair both worked to keep her in place, as if she were chained to a pole, with one side brittle but supportive and the other strong and covered in jagged thorns. She came down to her mother and, wordless, enveloped her in a hug.

“We’ll get through this,” Carmen said, though she wasn’t sure where the words came from. Everything was dark, an endless stretch of ink that threatened to swallow what little speck of light remained.

“I don’t think we can,” Alicia strained to speak, holding onto drunken tears, and held up an envelope, stamped with ‘Eviction Notice’ in bright red. A cursory glance through the contents confirmed its authenticity. They had less than a week left.

“I thought we were paying on time,” Carmen said.

“We were. The building came under new management. They’re kicking everyone out to demolish it or something.”


“Mom? Carmen?”

Both fell silent and turned to face Melody. Carmen hid the wine with her body and walked to her, shoving a casual grin to her face, “Mom’s tired, sweetie. Come on, I’ll model for you.”

“Okay,” Melody said, though she lingered on their mother, who refused to meet her eyes. Not that Carmen could blame her. This girl was the core thing they were working so hard for, if her brilliant blue eyes showed even a hint of disappointment, of sorrow, of the horrible reality they toiled in, then they had failed, “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Carmen said once they were in their room, “How do you want me?” Melody frowned for a second, then sighed and started moving Carmen’s limbs as she would a doll’s. In the corner, Ryuka caught Carmen’s gaze and looked away. Was she responsible? No, much as the god complained, she’d never shown any malice to Carmen. There was one person who wanted her to suffer, but even Gretchen didn’t have such influence.

Then who did?


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 21 - Another for the Book

4:32AM… it was 4:32AM when Carmen’s fortitude gave out. She collapsed in bed, unconcerned when the springs stabbed at her, or with the meagre cover. Hot coals would lull her to sleep easier. On her desk, a series of newspapers were strewn about with random ads circled or crossed out, mostly the latter. Her phone was discarded beside them, out of minutes and power. A teasing breeze weaved through the cracks in their walls and ceiling.

Ryuka hovered nearby, awake as always. She didn’t sleep. Sleep was a human necessity, not something a god of sexuality required, though the few moments of peace she saw on Carmen’s face were during those times. Dreams were a wondrous escape. She’d heard of her kind finding ways into people’s dreams, often recounting nonsensical landscapes or unusual happenings. Many dreamt of the things they longed to do in reality. Some were disturbing.

What did Carmen dream of? Ryuka could guess the answer with a glance to the other bed, where the smaller girl slept, unaware of the apparent discord heading their way. All Carmen claimed to want was a better life for the child and her mother. Not herself. And so, the Futa Note rested in Carmen’s bag, untouched for days at a time.

Everything could be solved with a few sentences. No human would have reason to refuse such power, even those who already had it. Yet Carmen all but tore it to shreds each time Ryuka broached the subject. The goddess fluttered down to Carmen’s level, mighty wings beating softly, and stared. It was admirable, that someone could control themselves to such a degree. Ryuka’s very presence should have driven her into a lustful craze long ago.

It was only a matter of time, however. She would succumb. So long as she had the Futa Note, whether she used its power or not, she couldn’t hold out forever. On that day, Ryuka suspected the wait would be worth every second. She’d already learned much from this single human.

“Sleep well, Carmen,” Ryuka said and mimed the same pose, intent on keeping the human guessing about what she did, and didn’t need. It was a childish game, but she enjoyed it.

Two hours of sleep were torture, almost worse than none at all. Carmen shoved herself up, her trained bio-clock rousing her at the usual time. If she let herself fall back to the pillows, lumpy though they were, she might not wake again. Perhaps not, she thought as a smell caught her attention. It was of bacon, a luxurious ingredient they had on special occasions. She got up and walked into the cubical that was their kitchen.

“Mom?” Carmen yawned.

“Morning, Sweetheart,” Alicia said as she set three plates with a fried egg and strips of bacon, still sizzling. She beamed like the morning sun, “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to cook. Well, this is hardly cooking.”

“What happened?” Carmen asked, a deep frown tightening her brow, while her gut clenched and her lungs stammered for air. Scenarios ran rampant. Did her mother rob a bank in the middle of the night? Did she do something worse? She wouldn’t sell her body for sex… would she?

“Nothing, just wanted to make my baby girls a nice breakfast,” Alicia said and turned back to the sink, washing up the pan, “Wake Melody up and have some. This’ll be the first time we’ve had a decent meal together in ages.”

“About four years,” Carmen said.

“That long?” Alicia’s voice was strained, “Well, better late than never.” Now her smile wavered, dipping in and out from existence. The longer Carmen stared, the tighter it became.

“Yeah,” Carmen went to wake Melody. Maybe their mother had a plan? Some form of emergency funds stashed away for just this occasion? Her gut roiled. What if she wound up working as a stripper? Or a prostitute? Both?

Her own grin strained as she watched Melody scarf down her breakfast, despite being told to savour her food. Alicia also struggled, unaccustomed to the masquerade Carmen performed day after day with her sister. All was fine. All was well. Things would get better. The same lines, on repeat, spoken with a different word at times, but still the same empty phrases. Except she had the means to make them real.

“No,” Carmen ground her teeth together. This was her problem, a human’s problem. If she used the book for something like this, then what would stop her from using when she next had any difficulty. Nothing. Using it for others was fine. Sometimes they needed it. Not her. She was different. Better.

“Did you say something?” Alicia asked.

“Hmm?” Carmen blinked, “Oh, nothing. Just mumbling to myself.”

“That’s weird,” Melody said.

“Oh yeah? What about this?” Carmen crossed her eyes.

“Ew!” Melody giggled, then tried it to no success.

“You’ll get it. I’m gonna go get ready,” Carmen said and slid a leftover strip onto Melody’s plate. With how her body had developed, more fat was the last thing she needed. Back in her bedroom, Ryuka made her presence known.

“Just use it,” she said.

“No,” Carmen growled. This wasn’t a good time. She doubted she could hurt the perverse goddess, but every muscle in her body was willing to try.

“You could get anything you want. That means a better life for your family,” Ryuka said.

“I know,” Carman said, all the fury evaporated, then condensed at the corner of her mind where it would wait until she couldn’t handle it. Which may well be a few hours from then, assuming Gretchen showed up at school.

“Then why…”

“Because it’s not natural!” Carmen said, “Or… something like that. I don’t know! Just… just leave me alone for now. Please?” She sat on her bed. It creaked under her weight but held. Everything felt heavy, yet brittle, like falling onto a bed of grass would shatter her. She pushed herself up and went about dressing for school. Even her abominable addition did nothing to faze her. It hung limp against her dense thighs.

Carmen grimaced at the weight of her breasts as she tugged a clean shirt on. It was one of the few that still fit well, though only because it had been stretched to ruin by the former owner, so it hung over her torso. All her other tops were either stained or too small, even the cute blouse she’d found last year in a thrift store. As she moved onto her skirt, which coiled around her hips now, though it managed to reach a few inches past her obnoxious panties. The underwear rode up between her balls and pinched at her phallus.

The shirt was an ugly brown and had a few holes chewed in by moths. She couldn’t use a bra, as the few options left were several sizes too small. Her former B cup supporter laid in a heap of now useless garments. If she had the luxury, she might’ve gone to get measured, but such a thing might well be fruitless. All because she had to have been the one to pick up the Futa Note.

“It’s your fault,” Carmen said, looking over the book. Her mother had seen Melody out, leaving Carmen spare time to lament the cause for her current predicament. The book was to blame. No doubt. Had Ryuka not dropped it, had she not picked it up, then none of this would happen. She would continue to exist without distractions, without Gretchen’s sights on her, and without knowing Stacy’s touch. At least her family wouldn’t be on the streets.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Ryuka asked at the door. She referred to the black notebook, the cruel machination for the family’s woes, stashed under Carmen’s bed.

“No,” Carmen said and headed to school.

The day had no intent on improving for her. Dakota, Mary and Zoey offered to help, each inviting her to their houses, but no solution didn’t have her taking advantage of them – which equated to her using what the Futa Note had done. They wouldn’t be her friends, or this willing at all, if not for the damned book – nothing could done that didn’t clash with her principles. Something might come along. Her mother could at least rent a motel room for a few nights, longer if they found work in time.

“Ugh, let’s go the other way,” Mary said, retrieving Carmen’s attention. She looked and saw Gretchen, accompanied by the usual redhead and overweight girl, but now another pair were added. Carmen recognised them; they were the two Stacy had hired a few weeks ago.

“They didn’t…” She whispered, mind flashing through all the information on Stacy’s building. The only reason it could burn down is through the bakery at the back, or through arson.

“Oh, hey there dyke brigade!” Gretchen sneered, “Sorry about what happened, Carmen. I heard that shitty little café burned down. A shame really. But good thing Ashley’s parents came along and bought up the property. Now the place might be halfway decent. Won’t have that fat cow eating all the goods too.”

“You made it happen?” Carmen asked. Her body was numb. Someone was nearby. She was aware of their presence, their warmth, but it was muted as if felt through a coat of metal. Her arms were shaking. A glance revealed that fists had formed. Confirmation was all she needed. No more than one word that justified what she wanted to do.

“Not me,” Gretchen turned and arched a brow at Ashley, who stepped forward, confident as she could manage.

“I did. The place was an eyesore,” Ashley said. Not another word. Carmen’s body flew toward the wealthy bitch, who yelped and raised a hand in defence. But not fast enough. Rage pumped through Carmen’s body, loud and vicious, a hideous beast amalgamated from every emotion she’d bit back over the last few months. Her skin met Ashley’s, disgust seeped through anger, a visceral crunch preceded their separation.

Something warm ran down her fingers. Blood. She looked and saw that Ashley’s nose was crooked and gushing. Another punch might fix it, Carmen thought.

“Now you’ve done it,” Gretchen beamed, unconcerned with the whimpering girl. If not for Zoey, who grabbed Carmen’s arms and held her back, the same would have happened to her. Silence hung for a moment, disturbed by Carmen’s strained grunts and Ashley’s crying. A teacher rounded the corner.

“Just go,” Zoey said and stepped in front of her.

“Out of the way,” Carmen said, though both the others held her back. By the time she’d pulled free, Gretchen was acting to the teacher, making sure to omit any wrongdoing on her part. Carmen swallowed the bile that threatened to spill out, then left. Classes wandered from her mind. Perfect attendance, scholarships, all were banished. What good would schoolwork do when she wound up homeless?

An invisible shadow descended nearby. Carmen didn’t look. It was Ryuka, even just the scent of her was familiar now, a tangy sweetness laced with a potent, earthy musk. For a while, the scent had fuelled Carmen’s libido, now it faded to the background. The grass and dirt next to her depressed under Ryuka’s weight.

“You’re on the ground,” Carmen said. She leaned against the school, knees bunched against her chest, while she stared at the world.

“Don’t remind me. It feels weird,” Ryuka said and extended her immense wings. A blanket of black curled around Carmen’s shoulder, warm despite the absolute darkness of the feathers, “Did you do something to your hand?”

“No,” Carmen looked at the drying blood, “I punched someone. Broke their nose. But it didn’t hurt me. Or it did and I’m just not feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Carmen asked, though she had no interest in why.

“For ruining your life,” Ryuka said and rose, retracting her wing, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself a better one. You deserve more than this.” She said and tossed a familiar book onto the ground. A pen clattered beside it. On a single page, she could answer all her own prayers. And satisfy her rage in the process.

“Just this once,” Carmen said and opened the book, then her hand started moving. She gave brief thoughts to what she wrote, unable to summon logic in that moment. Emotion fuelled each word, and she allowed it to. She wanted it. Calmness had no place for this person.

Ashley nursed an ice pack to her nose. It still throbbed, each pulse a stab of pain from the shattered cartilage. She’d wiped away the blood, almost vomited at the sight of it all, and now sat in the nurse’s office. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, but she was heard. In the storeroom, which housed few supplies, Nurse Becket moaned. Ashley tried to ignore it, but the sounds echoed in the decaying room.

The door burst open, “Come on, let’s go. I feel like shopping!” Gretchen declared.

“She just had her nose broken,” Rachel said, one of the few that spoke against Gretchen. She had earned it, given that yesterday’s events had been her ideas. If Ashley said anything, as she’d tried when Rachel brought it up, she was silenced with a simple glare. There was no denying Gretchen. To do so was societal suicide for the next year, as the expunged girls could attest to. Without her favour, anyone became fair game. Even Mary was just another target for ridicule now.

“Don’t care. It might be an improvement. Besides, buying me stuff always cheers me up,” Gretchen said and turned, sweeping her luscious hair in a wide arc. The brown roots were showing through her bleach. Once she noticed, it would be another expensive trip to the salon.

“Give me a minute,” Ashley said. What else could she say? If she refused, Gretchen would lash out. Accepting her place was easier, and at least she had a semblance of power like this. Better to suffer with power than without.

“Ashley,” Rachel sighed but let it go. No one under Gretchen’s fist were friends. They tolerated one another, sometimes shared about their lives, but looking after each other came second. Gretchen was ruthless, so they must be too. If she didn’t care about someone, and she never did, then they didn’t. Her example was law.

Mary had been kinder. While not friendly, or even amicable most times, she at least looked after her followers. Sometimes more. A peculiar pang of heat lanced through Ashley, building as she recalled the circumstances that she lost her virginity. It was Mary’s handiwork, but tender, a setup with a guy that Ashley liked. The night had been fake – he was blackmailed into it – but she appreciated the gesture. Then there was that kiss.

She exhaled, hoping to relieve the warmth still swelling in her. Was she sick? Ashley took long breaths through her mouth, since her nostrils were ruined, and went about changing into her gym shirt. It was tight around her body, hugging the paunch of her stomach and excessive breasts. Her bra bulged through the material, and her boobs puffed over the tops of the cups. Of course she’d gone up another size.

“You done?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah,” Ashley said and started toward her, then stopped. Something was wrong. Her chest was hot, like an ember had caught wind, setting her expansive fat ablaze, “Uh, I just need the toilet. Be right back!” Ashley hurried to the bathroom. One perk to having no friends, no one bothered coming after her. She barged into a stall, slammed the lock on and stripped.

“What the fuck?” Ashley gawked at her breasts, which swelled further, gaining size before her gaze. A new weight built inside them. It strained her bra, which rode up as they expanded around the cups. She grunted and snatched at the hooks, though flexibility wasn’t her strong suit. Her breasts continued rising, each mound like dough in time-lapse. The straps bit into her soft skin.

A quick flash of inspiration caught her and she shoved the straps from her shoulders, then the bra itself.

“Thank god,” Ashley sighed and leaned against the basin, the porcelain was icy against her skin, while her bosom persisted. Inch by inch, new tit-flesh crept over her pudgy gut. To further the impossible sight, they perked up, rounding at the bottom until they took a tantalising teardrop shape.

“What the hell’s going on?” The void didn’t answer. She was alone in the bathrooms, mouth agape at her bust. The swelling slowed to a crawl, then ceased. For her high school life, she’d been part of the upper echelon of tits, in size at least. After their surgeries, Mary and Gretchen outmatched her. Zoey had always been the largest, and that Carmen girl was a strong contender.

“So much for ‘plus-sized’,” Ashley muttered once she got the bra off. Its label read ‘FF’, yet it was a miserable sight to try and fit her breasts in it now. She cupped the heavy mounds in her hands, each firmer than she could recall. The areolae had plumped, swallowing her nipples from view. The heat had diminished, though it still smouldered.

She couldn’t wear the bra. Doing so was equivalent to choking her breasts at their new, inhuman size. Gretchen at least had good timing. She hopped to her feet and swallowed back a moan as her breasts jiggled, slapping against each other from the movement. Each ripple in the flesh was a slight, but lingering pleasure. A step led to a similar reaction.

“Oh shit,” Ashley retrieved her bra and loosened it as best she could. Even so, the cups were ill-equipped and sank deep into her flesh, causing pleasure and pain to echo each other, but they did reduce the constant jiggling. Once Gretchen let her go, she could try and figure out what caused it. For now, however, the blonde alpha bitch was waiting. She did not like to wait.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we don’t stock bras in this size,” the employee said. She struggled with the words, caught between awe and horror at the size of Ashley’s breasts. Alone, they had seemed massive without teetering into monumental. Now, with others to compare herself to, they stepped into that new realm. This woman’s adequate chest seemed miniscule.

“Okay, can you just get the biggest ones? Anything bigger than this,” Ashley held up her old bra with disdain. It had pinched at her for the past hour and, since she was forced to loosen the straps or deal with added discomfort, they rubbed against her nipples as she walked. Worst of all, she enjoyed it. If the heat between her thighs was to be believed. Part of her wanted to deal with it. Another quivered at what Gretchen might do if she left without paying for everything.

Her parents were rich, not billionaires, but deep into the millions. They owned local businesses, but had some clout with the larger chains, sorting out deals that benefited them both. Under Rachel and Gretchen’s insistence, Ashley had planted the idea for buying the building where Carmen had worked. The fire was an added bonus that reduced costs. She wasn’t involved there.

Not that it mattered. Carmen saw her as the core culprit, a worthless scab that should be covered if not removed and thrown away in disgust. That’s what she was either way. She wasn’t smart, nor did she have any talents, aside from submission and ass-kissing. Without her family, she would fall to the wayside of society. And Gretchen wouldn’t let that change. Time for studying was time for partying or buying stuff. In that day’s case, it was three dresses, a pair of heels and a new set of earrings. Ashley would never say it, but it all made her look like a whore.

“Check it out,” Gretchen pointed to a flyer on the mall bulletin board. It was for a recently opened theme park, the slogan claimed ‘Thrills better than any pills’. Ashley rolled her eyes, as did Rachel, but Gretchen saw it as a challenge. She enjoyed several variants of pills, “Let’s go.”

“What?” Ashley said.

“Well, you’ve obviously got nothing better to do. And it sounds like fun,” Gretchen’s face warped into a snide grin, “I suppose your weight might get in the way. Is that it? Worried your fat tits will fly off on a roller coaster? I mean, I’d feel sorry for the poor sap that suffocates under them. That’s not it? Then shut up and let’s go.”

That was her way. Questions she didn’t want responses to, and a conversation that she settled without a word from another. It could be far worse, Ashley supposed. Carmen would have strangled her by now.

The park wasn’t far. Five minutes by taxi and they arrived at the entrance, where Ashley flashed her credit card, billed straight to her parents. Despite the weekday, the place thrived. Groups and couples milled about, yelling over the others about what rides to go on next. Not a foot of space was free, penning Ashley in with Rachel and Gretchen. The sound of roller coasters and similar rides roared above it all.

“What first?” Rachel asked, unenthused. Gretchen lifted her head from the courtesy map.

“Hmm, I’m thinking… The Juggernaut,” Gretchen said and pointed to a skyscraper style structure, around which a set of rails spiralled and twisted. Adrenaline junkies screamed for joy while the unprepared launched puke, spilling onto the surroundings. Ashley’s stomach rolled just from a glance, then it dissipated and was replaced by a sickening warmth. Like her breasts, except this flared within her groin.

“Go on ahead, I’m, ugh, gonna use the bathroom,” Ashley said and spotted the lavatories. Rachel gave her a suspicious frown, but didn’t press it.

“Don’t be such a little bitch. Come on!” Gretchen grabbed her by the hand and yanked her forward. Ashley’s thighs rubbed together with each step, clenching to try and massage out the rising blaze. It didn’t make sense. Somehow less than when her tits ballooned. Nothing about this should arouse her, much less to the point that moisture trickled down her leg. Please let it be something else, she prayed as they entered the line. Several people were put off by the fresh vomit and left, placing them up front for the next circuit.

The wait was torment. Those in front were placed, leaving Ashley to wait behind Gretchen, pussy bubbling with unwarranted lust. Her hair dampened and her clothes stifled her, as if they smothered her skin. She tended to sweat when nervous and, though she didn’t tell others, horny. Beads snuck to the surface and suctioned her shirt, made her bra chafe her nipples and pinched her panties between her snatch. Each sensation built on the other, until she wondered if it would break her.

“Next!” The attendee called and Gretchen yanked her forward. She took a cart to herself, as did Ashley. Not enough people were lined up to fill the coaster, so at least she wouldn’t throw up on anyone in punching distance. Though that concern withered as she clapped her clammy hands to the rail. She was strapped in a harness, one that crushed her tits into her chest and added another sensation. This didn’t worry her.

She didn’t cling to the bar to preserve her life, as it appeared to the attendants, but to keep her fingers from sneaking under her skirt. If anyone saw her like that, if Gretchen saw her, then her social standing was ruined. But she wanted to touch herself. It was torture. Every second, each rub of the materials against her heated body, added another level.

“Hold on tight and enjoy the ride,” someone said. Before she could find the will to back out, the coaster set off. Her hearts rammed into her lungs and ribcage, trying to escape the terror as they were carried higher. The ascent was slow, meant to set the nerves on edge. For Ashley, the stampede of her heart carried both terror and arousal. She could feel her clit pulsing against her lips.

“It’s too much,” Ashley whimpered and let go of the rail. She pushed over her chubby stomach and past the waistband of her school skirt, there she found a muggy furnace. Her finger traced the soaked, half-devoured line of her panties, before shoving it aside. The coaster took a sudden dip and sent air bellowing against her snatch. Terror was replaced by relief, then a need for more.

She ignored the swerving motions of the ride and sank two fingers inside herself. Had she ever been this wet? Her velvet walls swallowed her with ease, allowing her to glide along them, while coating each digit in cum. Ashley’s other hand found a breast, sinking past the harness, shirt and bra to ignite another source of pleasure. Each time she pushed into herself, her walls clenched and released, as if milking a cock. That would be perfect. A nice, thick juicy cock sliding up her cunt until it hit her womb. She added a third finger and let loose a powerful moan.

Ashley ground against her hand and the cart. Gusts of air bombarded her hand and pussy, piling still more sensations upon her. The heat bellowed, almost demanding another finger. She obliged and stretched her walls wider than ever. Most days she stuck to two, or perhaps three if she felt daring, never four. But this was exactly what her body needed.

Up, down, around. Her fingers and the coaster mimicked one another, granting thrills of different natures to its passengers. As she continued, her lips seemed to engorge. They feasted on the fire and pleasure, as if trying to devour her hand. If that’s what it wanted, then she would supply it. Ashley curved her fingers into a cone, thumb tight against her palm, and pushed. Gushing with juices and powered by inane lust, her knuckles soon slid inside. The ride jumped in speed. Everyone screamed, Ashley included. Though her joy came from the explosions in her body.

The bliss erupted from her cunt, through her womb and belly, straight to her tits. Ashley found a nipple that had pushed from its home and tugged on it. The nub was firm, harder than it should be, yet she paid it no mind and worked to prolong her ecstasy. Just subtle shifts of her hand were enough to propel the dizzying pleasure to new heights. If it continued, she would pass out.

A new, alien sensation latched to her consciousness, however. It brought her attention away from the pleasure, though it continued to blare in the background, to watch a series of viscous, white droplets leak from her chest. Lactation… from her? Ashley went to inspect them, pulling her fist free. Her body seized and her eyes rolled as the release sent her spiralling back into bliss, while the coaster began its final descent.

“Everybody off!”

Where was she? Ashley cracked her eyes open and saw people climbing from the carts. A drop of something landed on her thigh. Oh god, she hoped she didn’t puke. She hadn’t. This liquid was a sterling white and came from her breast.

“Shit!” Ashley struggled with the harness, though it refused to give. Her dominant hand kept slipping. An attendant came over to help. The slow ascent couldn’t compare to how this made her heart race, or how it brought the blood gushing to her cheeks. They didn’t say anything. Were they blind to the milk? Or did they just think she’d had a drink on her? Please let them think that.

Once free, she ignored Gretchen and rushed to the toilets. She had to see what was wrong with her body and, much as it unnerved her, she was still horny.

Carmen finally stood. She brushed the dirt and grass from her uniform. The blood on her hand had long since dried. Ryuka hovered overhead, offering company and solitude in equal measures. For all she disliked about the Seikogami, having someone around was pleasant, if nothing but to think she wasn’t alone. And to distract herself from what she had just done.

Not that she did anything wrong. If she hadn’t used the book, then she might’ve tried killing Ashley. Even so, the thought crept in and out, tempting her. It would be fair. Ashley had been responsible for ruining Stacy’s business, and put her life in danger too, and, though she hadn’t said as much, Carmen suspected she was responsible for her mother getting fired too. And for the eviction notice. She shook her head and took a deep breath. If she thought on it too long, she’d rewrite the entry. Once the book did as she’d commanded, everything would be fine.

“Are you alright?” Ryuka asked, coming to a gentle flutter nearby.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” Carmen said and looked to her companion. Again, she took in how beauty seemed defined by this creature. Every curve, crevice, dip and fold was meticulous it seemed, designed to attract. Even the oversized phallus suited her.

“You know, you can talk to me,” Ryuka said, “I’m not above trying to help you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Carmen paused outside the school doors, looking at the decaying building, then at the goddess beside her, “Ryuka, what is the Futa Note doing to me?”

“I thought you’d have figured it out,” the Seikogami righted her posture, accentuating every arch of her body, and lifted her penis as if holding a priceless artefact, “You’re becoming like me. Or a facsimile of me.”

“Then what’s the point?” Carmen asked, looking back to the school, “I’m doomed to become a sex-crazed freak, so what good is learning?”

“I never said you’d be sex-crazed.”

“If I become even a fraction like you, then I will be.”

“Oh, honey,” Ryuka chuckled, “A body is just a body.” She pulled Carmen into an embrace, crushing her into the enormous bosom and enveloping her in their soft warmth. It would be easy just to close her eyes and let the world melt away. Ryuka was a Seikogami, a being that lived for millennia and survived on sex. What could she do?

“Your mind will always be yours,” Ryuka said, the teasing husk to her voice diminished, replaced by sincerity, “Nothing can change who you are.”

“Now you’re creeping me out,” Carmen said, though a smile broke the taut surface. She pulled away, “Thanks. You might not be such a bad roommate after all.”

“Damn straight. Now, onto other matters, what did you write?”

Carmen headed into the building, wondering the same thing. She’d worked in a daze after all, not taking the time to think before committing entire sentences. Had she turned Ashley into a monster? Or just made something from her deepest fantasies? She didn’t dare read the new entry either, certain her emotions had done her rage justice. If they hadn’t, then what was a few more changes?


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 22 - Public Changes

A zoo would be quieter. And cleaner. Ashley sat in the cramped toilet, chest pumping to her panicked breaths. Sweat clung to her shirt and adhered it to her skin. She peeled it away, grimacing at the tightness in her breasts, which shoved against the fabric, and the heavy odour that mired the space. People bustled around her, chatting and complaining about long waits. The doors next to hers creaked open and slammed shut repeatedly.

“Okay, okay, this is fine. It’s over. I’ve got this,” Ashley didn’t believe herself for a second. Each word sounded like she was dying, suffocated by the bra. It seemed to have shrunk, but she knew better. Her tits had grown to overflow and swallow the cups. They were tight as well, the skin barely gave under her touch, and the nipples refused to retract. Worse, they sloshed if she moved too suddenly.

It still didn’t make sense. Nothing should cause her to lactate. She wasn’t pregnant, her few times with boys had involved condoms, and she wasn’t on any drugs. The ones Gretchen pressured her into taking once, years ago, didn’t count. Was she just a freak? Like Mary and Zoey?

“Fuck!” Ashley clamped her thighs together. She dripped with more than sweat. Hot rivulets crossed their way down her legs, having escaped before she closed them. It wasn’t urine, though she almost wished it were. That could be explained as simple terror from the roller-coaster. What would Gretchen say if she saw that she had cum? And she’d soaked her shirt in her own milk of all things.

She couldn’t just leave either. Gretchen would demand an explanation and nothing would satisfy her. The ‘psychological damage’ of being abandoned would be a limitless supply of ammo, brought up any chance she got and turned into insults, and she’d take them. Ashley couldn’t refuse that woman, regardless of how she despised her. Because what would she do then? Crawl to Mary and beg to join the freak crowd and become a target for Gretchen?

Changing schools wasn’t an option. Her parents had ties to the board committee for Saint Puella. Leaving would sever those ties and cost them potential favours in the future, which could cost them. Maybe not in a month or even a year, but it would, and they’d have her to blame for it. No, it was better to stay with Gretchen and tolerate her. At least until they were permanently separated.

Someone banged on the door, causing her to yelp. Others chuckled at the sound. “Oi! Hurry up in there!”

“S-sorry! Just, uh, just finishing up!” No, no, no. If she went out there now, everyone would see her. She sniffed the air and scrunched her nose; it reeked of dread and sex. Anyone not brought up Catholic would recognise it. People would take pictures, post it around social media, until her face was recognised and her family mocked.

The path to absolute corruption was paved with riches, even parents would turn on their child to keep it. Gretchen had taught her one thing in life, that people were cruel, regardless of relation. No one did something out of decency, but for something in return. Ashley’s parents gave her life and comfort, in return, she wouldn’t make life difficult.

Now look at her! Her legs dripped with her fluids, her nipples were puffed up and waiting, while milk trickled from them, and her clit longed for her touch. She was a mess.

“Out the way dickheads!” That voice… it snarled and spat every word, yet was drenched in saccharine, coated in sugar, then layered with caramel and syrup. Gretchen spoke again, “Hey Ashley, come on out. We’re about to go into the maze. Won’t be any fun without you.”

Yeah, right. She wanted to see her get lost and panic. Which she would. She’d lost her way in her own house before, probably because she never left her room at home, though it was the reason why she didn’t. Too many rooms to become lost in. Maybe if she looked for it, she could find a place no one would find her in. Then all her worries could drift away into nothingness.

“I… I spilled something on myself,” Ashley said. Better to give an excuse before Gretchen came to a mortifying conclusion, and it wasn’t a lie.

“So? We’ll find you a towel,” Gretchen’s meagre patience was lost and poison crept back into her tone, “Now get out.”

“Fine,” Ashley straightened her skirt but left her top, hoping the random folds would conceal her nipples. The bra straps bit into her shoulders as she stood, yanked down by the added burden of her boobs.

“Geez, you look like shit,” Gretchen said. She didn’t spend a second longer looking at her, “Hurry up.”

“Okay,” Ashley breathed as she followed the blonde. Whatever afflicted her wasn’t done yet, as her breaths shallowed and her loins quivered. Her thoughts hadn’t drifted, nor had she touched herself on purpose, nothing of the sort, yet her underwear wedged in her pussy and her thighs scraped it on every step. She remained present, eyes fixed on the malevolent beauty strutting away.

Those who knew Gretchen’s personality, despised her appearance more than her ego. Just a glimpse of her was enough to remind anyone of how unfair life was, and that it would continue to be. She didn’t need any of the work she’d had done. However, the attraction laid in how fake she was. Mary shared the extravagance, though hers had faded in the past weeks, while Gretchen’s persisted.

Her hips swung side to side, too firm ass cheeks almost clapping with the motion, and withdrew into a doll-like waist. With her arms down and her back turned, Gretchen’s core expenses were hidden, but a simple lift of the shoulder and they were seen. Two rotund spheres, planted in her chest, stretched her once adequate bust into a whorish size. They rose and fell with her stride and breaths, but didn’t jiggle. The skin was too tight for that.

From the outlook, she was a bimbo. All it took was a moment, however, and it became obvious that she wasn’t. Most bimbos seemed benign in their stupidity, at worst they offended without malicious intent. Gretchen used anything to cement her position. She was top of the food chain, despite being daughter to a failing school and relying on Ashley’s frightened charity. Whatever it took, she did.

“Get your fat ass moving,” Gretchen growled. She didn’t look back to make sure Ashley still followed her.

“Okay,” Ashley said and hurried. Her clitoris ached now. It was just out of reach of her thighs, leaving it to rub against her sopping panties. She wanted to touch it, a simple touch, something to soothe the discomfort. But she didn’t dare, not with Gretchen on the cusp of whirling at any second. Once they were in the maze, she could ‘lose her way’ and tend to her body. If Gretchen let her slip away, which seemed impossible. The entire goal was to watch her suffer.

Once they reached the maze, Ashley struggled to keep her breaths short. Her bra and shirt were tighter already. The straps coiled around her like a boa, while the shirt seemed to melt into her skin, offering enough give for a hint of relief, but impossible to remove. Much longer and they’d break from the pressure. Or she would. Both sounded awful.

“Let’s do this,” Gretchen said, “Ashley, how about you lead us through?”


“Is that all you’re gonna say?” Gretchen snickered, “Just ‘okay’?”


“Oh hey, looks like you do know a second word. Good to know. Get moving,” Gretchen slapped her back, made a noise of disgust and kicked her forward, “Ugh, you’d better shower when we get back.”


“Didn’t I tell you? We’re going back to your place. I’ve got a bunch of guys coming to see me, so I need a big bed.”

“Get a hotel.”

“Like I’m gonna pay for one when I’ve got such a generous friend. You’ll let me, won’t you?” Gretchen neared her. She didn’t get too close, mindful of Ashley’s sweaty state, “Otherwise everyone finds out about this. I’ll change your name to ‘Skunk’ in minutes. Imagine what your parents would say.”

“Okay…” Ashley blinked. What was it about Gretchen that tore through her like this? Her eyes stung, but she ignored it and started through. Rachel followed them both, silently annoyed.

It didn’t take long for Ashley to get them lost. Dead ends at every corner, walls of fresh plaster painted to resemble a field at her sides, and a constant throbbing in her body. Gretchen chortled the whole way. She’d been kicking the walls, smearing them in whatever dirt had the nerve to ride on her shoes.


“Come on already!” Rachel whined from the back. She leaned against a painting, frustration on her face.

“I think it’s, uh, right… no, left! I mean…” Ashley wished she were somewhere else. Anywhere. If she looked left, the right seemed to close around her. If she looked right, then the left threatened to crush her. She stepped back and knocked into Gretchen, who lashed out. Once the tirade was over, Ashley hugged herself tight and tried figuring a way out. It wasn’t beyond Gretchen to leave her behind. She’d done it before as a freshman.

No one would help her either. People were cruel that way. They’d see her suffering, on the verge of caving in on herself, laugh and walk away. One might think twice, but they wouldn’t approach her with her clothes drenched in sweat. She wondered how the others hadn’t noticed it yet. They were within a few feet of her, surely they could smell how wet her pussy still was.

“Give up? Whatever. Let’s go,” Gretchen said and headed back the way they came. Ashley shuffled quickly after her, worried that they’d leave her if she lagged behind, then the walls would close and seal her in forever. Away from the world and any of its small joys. At least she’d be away from Gretchen, though the idea was a double-edged sword. Bitch or not, she was an idol, something to be admired and sometimes dreamt of. Such embarrassing dreams.

Gretchen wound through corridors like she’d designed it herself. Or the walls reorganised themselves to suit her wishes, weaving a path straight to the exit. A sign hovered not far away, flashing against the amber sky. When did it get so late? Another hour and twilight would swallow the warmth, a prelude to darkness’s gluttony.

“Oh shit!” Gretchen stopped at the exit and patted at her body, not subtly either. The guy manning the station turned to face her and got an eyeful of what looked like self-groping. She turned to Ashley, sickly sweet smile in place, “I think I dropped my phone. Go get it for me.”

“I’ll get lost,” Ashley said.

“So? My phone’s already lost. And it’s got GPS, so you’ll find your way out. Now get going. I’m hungry,” Gretchen shot the still ogling man a wink.

“Gretchen,” Rachel said but didn’t persist. She offered an apologetic shrug to Ashley, “Well, if we’re done here, I’m heading home. See you tomorrow.” She waved and dissipated among the throng of people.

“Please? Don’t make me go back,” Ashley whimpered, glancing back to the maze, now dark and hidden. What light was offered flickered dangerously, and made the walls cast oppressive shadows that seemed to dance. Others were milling around, unconcerned. A child skipped their way in front of Ashley, having completed the maze on their own. Since when was she less competent than a child?

“It’s not far. See ya,” Gretchen didn’t wait for her to reciprocate and walked to the man. Ashley was alone, out of her element, and still aroused. She pulled on her shirt. With the sun’s departure, the heat had dwindled, though her internal temperature countered it, like fire was its new normal. Her breasts continued their pressure on her bra, feeding the hooks into her back.

Maybe this was a blessing, she thought. Few people were still in the maze. If she found a quiet spot around a nearby corner, then she could take care of herself. Sparked by the thought, her nipples pulsed and let out a stream of milk. It dribbled down her belly and further soaked her clothes. The skirt was already a dark blue, so the moisture didn’t show. A small mercy at least.

Ashley took a deep breath and wandered back into the maze. She had no intention of finding Gretchen’s phone, which wasn’t lost, since she saw her take it out before her back was fully turned, and instead found a quiet corner. Once there, secluded from the outside, she peeled her top away. The once cute garment, embroidered with flowers and a subtle rainbow of colour around the trimming, was soaked. Drops of white fell from it.

The park must have merchandise somewhere. They’d have shirts. For now, however, she needed to get her bra off. A mission easier said than done. The hooks were well-made and at their limit, straining to keep their hold, and the straps refused to budge as well. Ashley pushed a hand into the cups, and bit her lip to keep from moaning too loudly, then yanked it up. Her breast came free with a wet slap against her pudgy gut. She repeated it on the other.

“Oh, thank god!” Ashley gasped and panted in place, inhaling lungful after lungful of air, tainted though it was with the musty air of a theme park. She leaned against a wall, sighing at how cool it felt on her glistening skin, and removed the bra. Once she had her fill, she inspected her breasts.

‘Big’ had described her well throughout her life. She’d been a chubby child, which persisted to the present. A soft stomach, luscious padding to her thighs and rear, and a chest that reaped just as many benefits. Her shape suffered but she had size. In the end, most men only cared about that. Now she had more than any could handle.

Manipulated by the new cargo, her breasts had attained a teardrop shape. Milk tightened the skin, she could see the intricate circuit of veins against her pale complexion, yet her stretchmarks had vanished. If her nipples didn’t jut out a full inch, or secrete a constant stream of milk, then she’d almost be happy for herself.

The size was ridiculous. Why any girl, or guy, would find them attractive was a mystery. No. Not quite. Ashley held them in her hands, let the weight rest in her palms. They were hot, sticky from sweat and milk, to her touch. She couldn’t hope to grasp it all without both hands. But the weight was comforting, like a security blanket, and their size made it impossible to forget them. 

“What the hell is this?” Ashley asked the walls and laughed at herself. What did she look like? Something from the internet, like those stupid photoshopped models with tits bigger than their heads. She looked to her own and judged them to be such a size, perhaps larger than Zoey’s even. Ashley missed her. She was one of the few who seemed to genuinely care.

Then she started hanging with that honour student. Ashley conjured the image, summoning all the bile she could muster, and found none of it. The visage came clearer than the sky itself, yet any anger, even a shred of dislike, didn’t come too. Other emotions replaced them, drowned them, too many to perceive. At the forefront was guilt, it made sense, given what she’d caused. But lust roared not far behind.

As if appalled that she wouldn’t focus on it, her arousal ignited. She clenched in shock and yelped as she pinched her nipples. Milk exploded from them at the pressure. Her body flared in response. It circulated between her tits and crotch, an endless cycle that fed each other. Hotter and hotter, until they threatened to burn her if she didn’t relieve them.

But here, in a maze where someone could wander by and see her? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t go back to the toilets, people must be drinking now so they’d be crowded and filthier, and no other place offered a semblance of privacy. She hadn’t seen anyone walk by. Better now than later. Ashley pulled her skirt up, breath hitching at the sight of her panties tucked into her pussy.

The lips were fat and swallowed the fabric. She traced them to her engorged clit, which jutted like a pencil eraser. A soft moan escaped her, she let it. So long as she was quick, then no one would suspect her. Once she came, she could call Richard, get a ride home and forget the day even happened. After she got off. No sooner.

Ashley tucked the underwear between her thigh and cunt, then pressed a trio of fingers into herself, “Oh, fuck! That’s good.” Her nails scratched the walls and caught the itch she desperately needed satisfied. The cycle of heat turned to pleasure. One hand ravaged her tits, switching between them, spraying milk in random intervals. Each drop seemed thicker than the last, and the sensation of pushing them out became harder too. When she looked, the splatters looked akin to a heavy cream. She moaned as more pushed out her massive nipples.

She tugged on them, one after the other. Each circuit made them bigger in her fingers, until she was using her fist. It should worry her, as should the overbearing stench of her pussy as it gushed around her hand, and the fact the cream had stopped pouring. Now it was a constant trickle, but far from the flood she’d first experienced. The pleasure hadn’t dwindled, it increased, pushing moans from her lips. She added a fourth finger to the slop of her pussy.

It squelched as she pushed and her clit pulsed against her palm. Ashley found a rhythm, slapping her palm into the swelling bundle of bliss, while her fingers sought deeper pleasure, and her lesser hand jerked her tits off.

“Ah, hmm, yeah… more, give me more…” Ashley leaned against the wall, projecting her hips and chest. She stared down at her body, ignorant to the changes taking place. Pleasure dominated it all.

Light flickered around her. A weak glow illuminated the sky, fading as the moon took centre stage. Much longer and the maze would be dark. It wasn’t for that reason, however, that she redoubled her efforts.

A new burn joined the others. It simmered in her cunt, turning her juices into blazing droplets as they oozed from her folds, boiled in her gut and roared within her tits. Ashley stroked her nipple faster, tightened her grip and pinched the head as she pulled up. The other needed attention, but her pussy demanded it as well. She yanked a boob to her face and snagged the huge nub between her teeth. What she wouldn’t give for a dildo or some cock to fuck her.

She humped into her hand, rolled her spine to push against her fist, and suckled from herself. The new milk, had become highly viscous. She swallowed and it clung to her throat and tongue. Even amidst her pleasure, the decadent sweetness came through. She sucked more into her mouth until it tickled the top of her gullet, then she slid back and forth. As if sucking a delicious cock.

Her pussy squelched at the idea and her mind embraced it. It almost felt like her nipples had turned rigid, building veins and a thick layer of skin. Because they were. Ashley’s moans turned confused, yet didn’t stop, nor did her masturbation. She had no control, just a spectator in her own head as her body delighted in its lurid nightmare. A puddle of her slop had pooled. Her ass splashed in it when she jerked in mounting bliss.

Pleasure soared and carried her mind with it. Any thought became lost among the clouds, trapped under a veil of worry, while she raced above it all, bathed in the sultry warmth of a sun that didn’t burn her skin, caressed by a gentle, teasing breeze and a serenity unlike any she’d known. Then the storm came.

All at once, her serene landscape turned to a maelstrom. The clouds reared back and swallowed her, dumping her back to earth in time for a flash of an ecstasy she should never have known. It flung her back above the clouds, into the maelstrom, slamming her with bliss. Something splashed her face, yet she couldn’t wipe it off. To do so meant stopping. Uncertainty flourished as other sensations whirled around her, but they drowned under her delights.

“The park is now closing! Everyone please vacate the premises and have a pleasant day!” An automated message broke her stupor. Where was she? Oh right, the theme park. So Gretchen had ditched her again. Ashley rubbed at her eyes. When had she passed out? Something gooey came away from her face. What…

“What the fuck…?” Her voice was muddled, her throat felt clogged with something, and her stomach rolled as she stared at a massive glob of white on her fingers. She looked down and saw a line of it stretch from her. Droplets had landed on her splayed legs, where a drying puddle sat. Then the smell caught up to her. Whatever was on her face slid slowly to her lip. She licked it up in a daze, before looking to her breasts.

They hadn’t grown to her mercy, but the areolae were huge and dark. Almost black. The nipples no longer stood out, instead they’d inverted. Two slits adorned the front of her monumental bust. She touched them and jerked away. This wasn’t natural. Must be a hallucination. The park had said it was better than drugs, probably because they pumped drugs into the air. Or something.

“The park is now closing…” the message repeated. She had more important things to worry about. The wavering light above finally gave out. She fumbled for her phone and found it covered in gunk, but it worked. A moment later and she dialled for her most trusted butler.

“Hello, Richard? I need you to come get me. Um, that new theme park... yeah, that one! Also, bring some clothes too. Thanks.”

“Okay, just… just gotta find my way out,” Ashley said to herself and pulled her shirt back on with a grimace. She took a step and shuddered. Her pussy was still swollen and, despite the sessions moments prior, it already longed for more. She steadied herself against a wall. Though faint, there was enough light for her to recognise objects. She followed it, slowly as not to agitate her snatch, and saw the exit sign, still lit up to her relief. Once free, she staggered her way to the entrance. A spacious car waited for her there.

“Thank you,” Ashley said as she climbed in. A shutter cordoned the back from the front, where Richard sat. He’d been with her family for a decade, and proved a reliable confidant and friend. When given the chance, she’d vent to him about Gretchen. He would try placating her, but not in a patronising way, as many of the others would.

“Shit,” Ashley groaned into her hands. They reeked of pussy and… cock? No, that couldn’t be true. It just smelled that way for some reason. Maybe it had rubbed off the walls? But they hadn’t smelled like it when she walked in. The problem was insignificant, however. Gretchen had said she planned on coming over that day, with the intent of an orgy it seemed, and Ashley had indirectly refused her. Tomorrow would be a nightmare. Couldn’t be worse than today, she thought and rubbed her crooked nose.

When they arrived at her family’s estate, she’d calmed down. If Gretchen was pissed at her, she would’ve called. She wasn’t the type to wait until later to bitch at someone. The smell had been masked by the fresh clothes and deodorant, though her pussy continued to simmer, mashed against her thighs. Richard had said her parents were home too. They wanted to talk apparently.

The estate wasn’t as ridiculous as those Ashley had seen in movies. They didn’t own entire acres of land. Enough to have a swimming pool, some sculpted hedges and a patio, all leading to the always stunning structure of her house. Four stories tall, a minimum of six rooms per floor, and equipped with all the extravagant necessities she could ever want for. Her bedroom was on the ground floor, near the kitchen and her personal games room.

On the opposite side, conjoined to the foyer, was the living room. A space dedicated to comfort made dreary and oppressive by the costly renovations her parents bought. Leather chairs, a fireplace, ornaments won at auction, a television set that slid from the floor and stood taller than Ashley, and other assortments that made it clear they were wealthy. Her mother called it a good business practice to remind others of one’s status. Ashley called it uncomfortable.

Ashley walked in and saw her parents walking to and from a set of boxes. Several of the expensive ornaments were gone, in their place was the buried family pictures they’d taken when she was a child. She looked like a cherub back then.

“Hey,” Ashley said after watching them for several seconds.

“Oh, good evening sweetheart,” her mother said and set aside a vase, “Frank, come on. Time to talk.” She gestured to a trio of chairs, which they then occupied. Ashley squirmed as she sank into the seat. Somehow, it was awkward enough to press against her pussy.

“So, we’ve decided to make some changes,” Frank said.

“I can see that,” Ashley said.

“Yes, well… we’re going into early retirement,” her mother, Angelina – or Ange to most – said.


“So we’re gonna downsize,” Frank said and slapped the chair, “We’re gonna try for a more normal family dynamic.”

“No more crazy expenses, or butlers and maids. We’re gonna move to a suburb and be a family,” Ange added.

“What?” Ashley frowned at them, trying to comprehend and contain herself. This was something she’d thought of before. Her parents were away on business most of the year, when they were home, they still worked. It’d been that since she was a child. They had seemed so far from her, beyond her reach, that she didn’t tell them about anything. Not about the bully from second grade, or the one from third, fourth, fifth and so on. She ate what she pleased, since they didn’t tell her otherwise. Even after Gretchen forced to stay out well into the night and mornings, they said nothing.

Now they wanted to be a family. Bullshit. It was too good to be true. Something must be wrong. They’d made a bad deal, gone bankrupt and didn’t want her to know. No, that wasn’t it. Ashley stared at their faces, read the smiles that brought out the disused laugh lines around their eyes. They held one another’s hand.

“It’ll take some time to work things out, but we’re sure it’s for the best,” Ange said.

“I… okay,” Ashley made the mistake of crossing her legs. She wanted to say more, but feared a moan would slip out. The action had stimulated her snatch, which was on a mission to soak through the new panties she wore, and jostled her tits. They rubbed against her shirt. Something pushed from within, longing to be freed. It peeked out. She panicked and pulled her knees up. Another mistake.

Her parents looked to each other, then at her, “It’s a lot to take in. If you need to talk, just come and find us. We’ll try to be around more.” Frank said.

“You should go to bed, it’s late,” Ange said.

“Y-yeah,” Ashley said and surged from her chair, “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow. Before school.”

“We’ll be there,” Frank chuckled.

Back in her room, Ashley pulled her shirt off and stared at the tubes that extended from her chest. Tubes? What is she, ten-years-old? They were dicks. Plain and simple. Hard as bone, long and covered in veins, and with a loose sack of skin occupied by balls at the base. The heads were strange. The glans angled downward and tapered at the head, which made sense. Nothing about the situation was normal, so why would it.

Tears overflowed. Ashley fell to her bed and onto her side, which smacked her tits and… and her dicks together, which sent unwelcome pleasure through her. The fact she was a freak shook her from the corner, but it didn’t bring the tears. It was the desire she felt toward herself, toward her now freakish form. A pair of cocks had replaced her nipples. They even had balls.

And all she could think of was how wet she felt. How hard her cocks were. How… how much she wanted to taste her cum. Her hands worked before she finished the thought. One for her pussy, the other for a cock, while her mouth latched onto and suckled the other. Her clit pulsed bigger too.

No, please… Ashley waited as the pulsations built until both her hands were occupied by a cock. They stroked as she sobbed and moaned. Stopping wasn’t an option. Her body was in control.

Carmen stared at her phone in silence. Melody slept at her side, nervous from their mother’s frantic state when they came home, so she refused to sleep alone. She was glad to share the space. Looking down and brushing a strand of brilliant blonde from her sisters eyes soothed her. Carmen had tried calling Stacy again, to no answer. Not even voicemail. Their mother was at least trying to find work, but something told her it was unnecessary. Whatever she’d written in the Futa Note would fix it, though she didn’t know how.

“Why don’t you just look already?” Ryuka asked. Guessing at her thoughts was becoming a hobby for the deity, who swore to Carmen that she couldn’t read minds.

“No,” Carmen shook her head and set her phone aside. It was late. She should at least try and sleep. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, especially to see what had become of Ashley. A tingle ran down her spine and her penis twitched. She cut the sensation off with a dangerous thought.

“I saw that,” Ryuka chuckled. She came to hover over her, inhuman glory radiating despite the lack of light, “You got turned on for a second. Someone’s starting to enjoy herself.”

“Shut up,” Carmen said, though she didn’t deny it. Power had an enthralling and forbidden taste to it, more so when used for retribution, to make a girl suffer. She drifted, exhausted from last night and the day’s events. What had she done to Ashley?

That same girl bit into her pillow to keep from screaming as an orgasm overwhelmed her. It was the strongest yet, brought on by a sudden fantasy she never expected. She’d imagined Carmen, the girl who had punched her hours earlier. It didn’t take much from there. Nudity, a little dirty talk, and Ashley became putty. She passed out shortly after, dreading the day to come.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 23 - Ashley's Excess

Life is strange. It throws absurdities at people without warning. Mary having a dick was one, and Dakota being gay was another, then Zoey… Now Ashley had been afflicted. The signs were clear after the first three. Rachel hadn’t blinked when Dakota acted weird, she had expected the girl was gay or at least bi, but the former queen bee of Saint Puella was another matter. By how she behaved, it almost seemed like Mary hadn’t been born a shemale. But it would explain why she was so eager to get implants.

Rachel tapped her foot, chewing on a mouthful of jammed toast. It was burnt from their faulty toaster, and Leah refused to buy a new one out of pocket, so she was stuck with the charred bread until their parents came home. Next month. Great.

“Got everything you need?” Leah asked as she fiddled with her uniform. She waitressed at a small café, a nice enough place with good tips for a buxom girl like her.

“Yeah,” Rachel sighed and drowned the taste of cinders with her sister’s milk.

“Hey! I was gonna drink that,” Leah pouted.

“Yeah, sure. Not like you need any more milk,” Rachel said with an unsubtle look at Leah’s breasts, “Besides, I’m the runt, so I need every drop I can get.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Leah said, eying her sadly. Rachel bit back her response and left to stand beside her sibling’s third-hand car, while Leah strolled into the driveway. They were sisters through blood alone. Few hints gave it away. The green eyes and slight crook they shared were offset by Leah’s wider face, which lacked the splay of freckles Rachel sported, and her physique. Where Rachel was lithe and small, her sister towered.

“I’d kill to look like you,” Leah added once in the vehicle. It smelled of her work, several discarded bags of leftovers crowded the backseat, forcing Rachel upfront. She curled her lip at the mess.

“I thought you were gonna clean up.”

Leah shrugged, “I was, but…”

“Whatever. Give me five bucks and I’ll do it for you,” Rachel said.

“Deal! Would’ve paid you ten,” Leah snickered under her breath.

“Then I’ll take ten,” Rachel smirked. Eavesdropping was a common skill, but one that she excelled at. Made speaking behind her back a dangerous affair. Or Gretchen’s.

The drive wasn’t long. Traffic dragged it out, as did Leah’s taste in radio stations, but after fifteen minutes the ordeal was done. She waved goodbye to her slovenly sister and walked through the gates of Saint Puella, glad to have a few minutes before Gretchen arrived with the principal. People sifted through, carried by obligation alone. Another week and the year was over, then it was time for a repeat. Rachel smoothed her hair against the wind and repressed a groan. She’d be glad to leave the school next year.

Sooner if that bitch just let things go. Time heals all wounds, but grudges can last forever. In Gretchen’s case, that was true, and everyone would suffer for it. She envied those who had dropped out, but if she followed them, who knew what Gretchen would do.

Unless something happened before then. Rachel sat on the steps outside the building, pondering her phone while her leg bounced. There was a pattern, she was certain of it, all centred around that honour student. Dakota encouraged them to use the library to hang out, where Carmen was before, then Mary went a step too far with her, Zoey had been made to ransack Carmen’s locker, then there was Ashley’s side. If she knew the truth, that Rachel was the mastermind behind her recent troubles, then she would have been targeted instead.

Carmen was responsible. It couldn’t be coincidence that they messed with her in some way, acted strange, then started hanging out with her. Zoey especially wouldn’t just cut ties with Rachel for a new friend. Unless there was more to it than that. She’d seen how Zoey eyed Carmen, she recognised it for her own.

“Fuck!” Rachel snapped, startling a pair of first-years into the building. She shouldn’t feel this way, not about someone else. It made sense with Zoey, a girl she’d known for years and knew better than anyone, not for the other. She pushed the thoughts aside, striding from her own reverie to see Gretchen strut down the cracked path, tanned skin glimmering in the sun and plastic tits all but popping from their cage. A treat for the eyes and a curse elsewhere.

“Sup?” Gretchen said as she came to a stop. Her mother walked in ahead of her, saying nothing of her child’s shirt.

“So, how’d it go last night?” Rachel asked, already ignoring the blonde as she spoke about the guy she’d fucked. A few points of interest snuck in, such as how Gretchen managed to get a threesome together. To say nothing else of the bitch, she knew how to get what she wanted. The one-sided conversation ended as Ashley walked toward them. Rachel blinked and looked to her phone, then back again, certain it was a mirage of sunlight. She glanced at Gretchen and found a snarl on her lips.

Ashley wore a typical black t-shirt despite the warmth. The neckline had torn, no doubt from the strain of its newest occupants, deforming the elegant embroidery on her chest. Rachel gulped and averted her gaze. The last thing Ashley would want is attention drawn to them, if her hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks were anything to judge.

Though Gretchen had no such morals.

“What the fuck happened to you, cow-tits?” Not a new insult, but rarely heard. It must’ve been a while since the last one, since Ashley jerked and tried hugging her breasts. They wouldn’t be hidden, however, and bulged through her shirt like muffins. Gretchen’s jaw clenched.

“N-nothing. J-j-j-just, uh… my period? Yeah, my period,” Ashley explained. If only, Rachel thought with a glance to her own pitiful chest, barely enough to announce her gender. She wore her hair long for that reason, detesting how boyish her figure was.

“If you got yourself new implants, I’m gonna fuck you up,” Gretchen warned. What an idiot. Anyone could tell that Ashley was natural. They jiggled and oozed around her arms, whereas Gretchen’s swayed ponderously if she whipped around too fast.

“I didn’t. I-I-I swear.”

Placated, Gretchen turned to Rachel next, “Don’t know why you don’t get some work done, shrimp.” So it’s one of those days. Gretchen would often vent her frustrations on her or anyone else nearby. After dealing with Ashley, she was the only option left. Everyone else had hurried inside when Gretchen appeared.

“Wouldn’t look good on me,” Rachel said, an answer made not to offend Gretchen at all. If anything, it was a compliment. With her tan, personality and wardrobe, fake boobs suited her better than they did most. Mary was a close second, though hers looked more natural every day, and perhaps Carmen Robins could pull them off. No, hers were huge enough. Rachel caught the thought before it could run with her imagination and quashed it.

“What’re we doing today?” Rachel asked, distracting herself.

“Ugh, mom’s going through the classes today, something about explaining next year. We’re stuck until she finishes with all of our lessons,” Despite her demeanour, Gretchen wouldn’t go against her mother so outright. Perhaps she had a conscious after all. Rachel doubted it. If the principal accepted the truth about her daughter, then all her freedom would vanish. Never to be found again.

“Since when do you care?” Rachel asked, “Just ditch, and tell her it was an emergency or something.”

“Can’t chance it. With all that shit last month, she’s being a real fucking bitch. Like it’s my fault Zoey’s a freak. She got what she deserved.” Rachel kept her silence. Why did Zoey have to get caught up in whatever Carmen was doing? The answer whispered back, contorted with jealousy, ‘because Carmen likes her too’. They could already be dating. It would explain why Zoey hadn’t so much as texted Rachel. Unless she didn’t mean that much to her.

Rachel quelled the very idea. They belonged to different sides of the social spectrum now. Any number of people would gladly spread rumours to get into Gretchen’s good graces, more so if it meant debasing someone close to her, and Rachel had no allies, but no enemies either. People feared her by association.

If Zoey spoke to her, text or otherwise, and someone got wind of it, then Gretchen would hear it too. Rachel would become another target, likely outed for a lesbian, and she didn’t have Carmen to rely on like the others seemed to. Nothing could ever be easy.

“S-sorry, gotta go,” Ashley said and rushed into the building. She walked differently, and her voice had a loftiness to it, like she wasn’t part of the same reality anymore. Rachel watched her disappear into the halls, eyes wide as they caught the bulges on Ashley’s chest. Massive tits or not, nipples of that size were abnormal. Freakish, even. What had Carmen done to her?

It hadn’t stopped all night. Sleep was skittish and what little Ashley had clung to didn’t amount to much. She was ready to crumble any moment. Makeup obscured the dark rims of her eyes and an anxious energy kept her moving. The culprits stirred beneath her clothes, which already strained to hide them.

Bathroom. She needed to hide before someone saw her. Perhaps they’d help her. The thought was crushed, its dying gasps silenced by realism. No one would help her. All they would do is report it to Gretchen, embellished to shame her further, and her social life would be over. It already was, part of her noted. Her parents were in talks about giving away their excess wealth; Gretchen wouldn’t need her anymore.

“Sorry,” Ashley squeaked when she bumped into someone and went to scurry away, but she mistakenly glanced up from the floor. She’d collided with Carmen, behind whom Zoey and Mary also stood, and now met her dark, baleful stare. Fear didn’t force Ashley back into motion, rather it was the terror of her desire. She almost dropped her arms, the only things that hid her hideous endowments.

Carmen said nothing to her and returned to her friends, “We’ll get by somehow. Don’t worry.”

Get by? Ashley rushed around them and into a nearby bathroom. Moisture suctioned her clothes to the skin, while her cocks rebelled, tenting the garments as she hurried to tear them away. She crashed into a stall and locked it. Moans and gasps slipped out when she removed the dampened attire, their slick forms rubbing her sensitive flesh. Her cocks flopped into the open.

This was karma for what she’d done. It didn’t matter that Rachel had thought of it, or that Gretchen had urged her to do it, or even that she’d only mentioned it to her parents in passing. She’d caused everything. Carmen must be on the verge of homelessness, those clothes screamed poverty. Didn’t she have a little sister?

Ashley sank to the toilet, hissing at the cool porcelain against her balls. Guilt and lust warred for attention, each horrible as the other for separate reasons, though the latter had the advantage. She brushed her breast, a torrid moan heralded a drop of pre-cum at her trio of dicks, and lust had its foothold. It corralled her reason and took her hands, placing them against her tits. They had firmed overnight, filled with cum.

What a freak, Ashley thought as she slowly stroked her inhuman phalli. The one spawned from her crotch was normal, albeit thicker than her fist despite its length, and throbbed in longing. She left it alone for now, preoccupied with the leathery feel of her nipples.

The areolae had darkened and thickened to resemble her members Where her nipples once sat, was a fat circle of flesh, from which her new anatomy extended. Her cocks were smooth, covered in dense skin broken only by the occasional vein. The heads flared and slanted to the tip, where her urethra jutted. She hadn’t dared research the shapes, afraid of what she might find.

Heat played across her hands as she stroked. It fed off her touch, in turn strengthening the lust pumping in her veins. Her tits weighed on her shoulders, pulling her down until they were crushed between her knees and chest, and put her face within inches of a cock. It was black-skinned, an onyx shade that didn’t belong on the human body, and had a protrusive opening. Murky pre-cum oozed from it.

Each breath caught in her throat. She could taste its musky tang if she breathed through her mouth, feel it dragging her closer, until her nose was saturated in its odour. If only someone could look at her then. They’d see a freak, not just in body, but in mind. Ashley handled her breast until the rigid cock brushed her lips, whimpered, then engulfed the first few inches.

Hints of her cum lingered amongst its own salty flavour, mixed with an earthy tang that lured her in. Ashley bobbed along the head and shaft, slow and tortuous, while her tongue toyed with the glans, slipping over it all and poking at the urethra to lap up the addictive pre. As the pleasure grew, she deepened her motions and suckled on the head. The veins pulsed against her maw and flooded her with warmth as she moaned.

Her other hands worked in concert like a slut’s would. When her mouth slowed to savour the taste, which burrowed deep into her saliva, pouring over her tongue as she drooled, they picked up the slack. She squeezed toward the heads of her other cocks, urging thicker globs of pre-cum out to use as lube. The more she got, the faster and smoother she moved.

Before long, the head reached her throat. A brief sliver of sobriety broke through as she wondered if Mary or Zoey had tried this, then it was swallowed in a tirade of fantasies. She saw them both, Zoey was taller than everyone and rightfully endowed, while Mary sported her usual bravado with tits the size of basketballs. They both doubled in on themselves, backs arched and tits flattened between their own bodies, cocks at the ready. And there she was with them, sucking herself like a true slut.

Her moans reached a crescendo. She fucked her own face, dove down the full length and buried her nose in the sweat and grime laden balls, before pulling back to gasp for air. Only a second later and she returned. Spit flung from her lips. Ropes found her cheeks and chin, a river poured between her heaving tits, both taut with cum. She rocked her hips to her own rhythm, thrusting her human dick between her boobs.

That was an idea. Ashley spread her breasts and jerked her cock upright, then caught it between them. Drool and pre-cum lubricated the way. It slid between her tits, pulsing against them, and to her slobbery lips. She switched between cocks now. Subtle flavours separated them, yet all mixed together in her spit as she all slavered them in her decadence.

“Hmm! More,” Ashley gasped each time she came free, as if the demand would be heard and fulfilled. It seemed so, as her cocks spurted pre-cum like small fountains. It landed in her hair, glued an eye shut, even clogged her nose. Her pussy wept in envy, so she spread her legs until it squelched against the toilet, then ground into it. If only she had a dildo. The answer brushed her ankle; someone had left a plunger behind

The handle must be mostly clean. So long as she didn’t use the wrong end, then it was fine. Ashley held a cock tight in her mouth as she changed positions and grabbed the tool. She straddled the toilet like a cowgirl, ass arched high, while her cock was buried in her tits. A few missed thrusts later and she got her cunt. The handle wasn’t thick, but enough to satisfy her crazed needs. She returned to sucking her trio of dicks, while her pussy slobbered over a common household item.

“Hmph! So good, so fucking good,” Ashley moaned.

“I’ll be right back!” Someone said. Ashley ignored them, so caught in her pleasure that anything else was like a dream, intangible and unimportant. She bucked against the plunger, driving deeper until the plastic tip bumped her cervix. It should’ve hurt, or at least felt uncomfortable, but she found only bliss.

“Oh my god! Guys, get in here! Someone’s fucking themselves in the toilet.”

Ashley moaned harsher as her cocks swelled. Her balls all trembled when she touched them. The scent was stronger now as she throated her nipples, and her pre-cum had thickened to a cloudy paste. Her fluids dripped to the floor, puddling around the toilet.

“I can’t see who it is.”

“Must be pretty desperate.”

“Bet Gretchen will wanna hear about it.”

“Wait, isn’t that cum?”

“Holy shit, it is!”

Another moment and Ashley couldn’t hold back. She threw her head back and howled her orgasm. Her muscles locked up, slight twitches rang through her, as ecstasy throbbed through her. Her toes curled, her eyes rolled and her cocks exploded. Cum from her nipples splattered the walls, rebounding to land in her hair and face, while her ‘normal’ dick sprayed into the air and rained upon her quivering ass. Her pussy shared in the release, strangling the plunger.

“Fuck, that’s a lot!”

“How many guys are in there?”

“Who cares? It’s probably Gretchen anyway. Come on, let’s go.”

The door opened and shut, taking with it Ashley’s blissful ignorance. She panted through the afterglow, staring at the mess she’d made of herself. The clang of the plunger falling from her pussy startled her, which brushed her cocks against the basin. Her flagging erections surged to life once more.

“No, no, no…” Ashley tried to stand, but her legs gave out beneath her and she fell to the floor. The impact should have hurt, regardless of how well padded her ass was, yet her body became alight with pleasure. She eyed the cum sliding down the wall, then at herself. One more time couldn’t hurt.

One more didn’t. The subsequent three, however, drained her to the brink of unconsciousness. Ashley finally stopped at that point, glad that her cocks were exhausted, though her bladder wasn’t. She slumped atop the toilet, waiting for the strange sensation of urination to come. Sometimes it came from her dick, sometimes her pussy. Either way, she’d found the experience uncomfortably delightful, as if her body was being massaged from the inside.

“There’s a thought,” Ashley said and giggled as she poked one of her nipples, finding the hole where her cocks rested. The touch sent a tremor of lust through her. Thankfully, her body seemed finished. Then she peed.

She locked her legs around the bowl and moaned, shivering through the moment as if an orgasm had overtaken her. The seconds it took to pee stretched into clouded minutes, refuelling her desire. Panting, her breasts tingled and her nipples opened once more. She glanced at the plunger again.

“No, fuck that,” Ashley grunted and clenched her muscles, cutting off the flow. She stood, flushed and got dressed, gritting her teeth against how her clothes rubbed her skin. They felt less like clothes and more akin to a skilled hand stroking her pussy, riling her up until she gave in.

“What’s happening to me?” Ashley asked her reflection. Her makeup had smeared from the spit and cum, bringing her haggard state to the limelight, and her hair was ruined. Jizz crusted several parts of it. Her cum. She leaned on the sink but recoiled as if shocked, then touched it again. It was as if her clit was touching it, not a finger.

“Can’t be here, can’t be here, can’t be here,” Ashley muttered under her breath as she paced the bathroom, then stopped as the rubbing of her thighs turned her words to moans. She pinched a nipple, hoping the sharp pain would hinder her libido. Instead, her legs gave out as her many cocks lurched. Did anything hurt anymore?

She remembered listening in on one of Gretchen’s many trysts. The guy had gone several times in a row, then complained that it was painful. By her estimate, she’d exceeded him and nothing hurt. Even the usual ache that should accompany so many orgasms was absent. If she gave her libido just an inch of leeway, it would take hold. So tempting… just to lose herself in it, to drown out everything she hated, to escape reality and Gretchen. That wasn’t life, though.

She cleaned what she could and left for class. The first bell had long since rang, drowned in her cries, but she doubted the principal or teachers would even notice her absence. Stepping into the middle of her second class, she was proved right. They didn’t glance up even at the errant drop of cum that fell from beneath her skirt.

Only as the door opened again to reveal Ms. Blake did the teacher pay any mind to the students. Ashley ignored the principal, preoccupied with the incessant breeze from the AC and open windows. Playful wisps of air crowded her cleavage, chilly against the damp shirt, and teased her nipples. A groan escaped her lips.

“Everything all right, Ashley?” The teacher asked. She never learned their name, or anyone’s for that matter. What little interaction she had with them was mostly through Gretchen, or with the threat of her name in the air, erasing any need for civility.

“Just a little, um, just a cold coming on.”

“Hmm,” the teacher left it at that. They remained attentive until Ms. Blake left, then returned to reading from a book on literature, monotone as ever. The rest murmured amongst themselves. None spoke to Ashley, though her name was tossed around, commenting on the state of her clothes, or discussing her spontaneous breast growth.

Let them talk. So long as they didn’t know that she struggled not to touch herself, or that her every breath rubbed her nipples and threatened to push her dicks out, then they could say whatever they wanted. At least it provided a distraction. She hadn’t attended class in weeks, always curtailed by Gretchen’s whims. Whatever the teacher recited had no relevance to her anymore, or to anyone else. Gretchen had seen to that.

Then the whispers hushed and phones were pulled out. An obtrusive silence fell upon the classroom, muffling what little sound there was, even the teacher seemed to give up and just read from a magazine. No one was talking, their thumbs moved over keyboards without sound. Which made it far too easy for Ashley’s mind to wander.

She latched onto anything of interest. The girl in front of her was reading an article, another played some mindless game, the rest busied themselves with similar online nonsense. One even watched a video on carpeting, as if she would ever need to know about it.

Her mind abandoned the room. On another day, she might’ve tried taking a nap to make up for her terrible night, but she didn’t risk it. Her eyes drooped in spite of her, and her head sank. She stumbled through fantasies, until one lashed out at her. Searing tendrils coiled around her until she was trapped, eyes staring as her imagination took hold.

Carmen was stood in an otherwise empty classroom and dressed in the finest suit that Ashley could afford. She had a kind smile that Ashley had seen in passing, though it was never directed at her. All she’d seen for herself was an unbridled anger even Gretchen couldn’t match.

The smile stretched into laughter as she stalked toward Ashley, who sat behind a desk stripped and paralysed. Carmen’s own outfit reformed into a lingerie set. Sheer, lace panties obscured the tempting cleft of her pussy, a matching bra bounced perilously with her hypnotic tits, and stockings bit into her thighs. She stopped, hip notched to the side, and allowed Ashley to bask in her radiance. The sun shone against her pale skin, danced in her dark eyes and hair. Then she was naked.

The urge to touch her almost took Ashley. She kept her distance, just staring, bug-eyed at the pinnacle of beauty. This wasn’t someone she could just touch, or even approach. Carmen was a priceless artefact, a relic of some lost civilisation, its queen perhaps, and was to be admired as such. But that only made the desire burn.

The door of her fantasy opened and Mary strode in. Ashley’s lips tingled at the memory of their kiss, sudden and fleeting as it was. She didn’t match Carmen, instead she seemed to bring her into an even brighter light. Their hands found each other’s, entwining as Carmen pulled the blonde to her. They looked to the paralysed girl. Both were so close that Ashley felt the heat of their bodies, smelt their perfume and saw the lust bubbling in their eyes. She wanted to be part of it.

Mary winked at her, a sly grin on her plump lips, and faced Carmen. Bronze and pearl skin collided in a brilliant embrace, while two lips, both painted a passionate red, sank into each other. Hot breaths rushed from their noses, tongues slipped out to taste one another, and hands roamed the other’s naked form. Carmen’s nipples hardened into cherry-pink nubs, and Mary’s followed, a darker tone from her tan.

More, Ashley urged from her prison. Her muscles were beyond her. She was doomed to watch their descent into depravity and nothing more. Moans slipped out now. Both took great handfuls of the other’s ass, massaging them, then travelled around to find the greater treasure.


She jerked upright. Something warm dribbled down her chin, which she quickly wiped away. All eyes were fixed on her, heads craned as if to see a show. Which it was. Her heart throbbed in her breast and a familiar push stole another gasp. Ashley didn’t wait. She stood and rushed from the room, willing her stout legs to carry her faster. Once outside, she collapsed against a wall beside the lockers, gasping for air. Each breath translated to her cocks, which engorged until they tented her already struggling shirt.

“Ashley?” Her name jerked her head up. Rachel stood at the end of the hall; face blank save for a frown. Anxiety snapped at Ashley’s insides. She scurried away.

Rachel walked to where Ashley had sat just moments ago. A moist patch marked her place, and a broken trail tracked her as she waddled down the hall, like something kept her legs from working right. The redhead thinned her eye at the chubby girl as she rounded a corner. Her shirt projected further out than her breasts should.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ashley’s voice echoed through the halls and Rachel’s ears, tinged with her usual fear, though a second emotion underlined it. Rachel had left to use the bathroom, but this captivated her. Strange happenings were abound once more, just like last month with Zoey. She wasn’t about to sit back without figuring out more about it.

She broke into a soft jog, feet silent under her petite weight, and rounded the corner. Ashley disappeared into another hall, but someone remained present, looking where Rachel also did.

“Oi, did Ashley…” Rachel’s voice died in her throat. The person was none other than Carmen Robins, statuesque despite her haggard posture and clothes. Only her skirt was clean, almost untouched, though several folds converged around her crotch. Darkness circled her eyes, pulling them in, and juxtaposed her warm cheeks.

“Yeah, she just ran that way,” Carmen said and left. It might’ve been her imagination, but Rachel swore a grin tugged at Carmen’s lips. She ignored it for now and chased after Ashley, and found her slinking out the back entrance onto the fields. Nowhere to hide there, Rachel thought. Not when the late morning sun blared overhead.

She strolled out and, still following the trail Ashley left behind, came to the gates. A glossy car was parked outside, windows tinted. Ashley climbed inside and slammed it shut, startling a flock of robins from a nearby bush. Just a glimpse, but Rachel caught a sight that had no place on a woman’s body, far less so where it spawned from.

“No way,” Rachel returned to the building, mind whirling with the potential of what she saw. Her crimson hair infected her cheeks, turning them to a rose. She saw Carmen slip back into a classroom on her way. That grin of hers pasted itself onto Rachel’s face.

“What’s your secret?” Rachel wondered as she passed the door and peered inside. Carmen was sat in the window aisle, eyes forward and taking quick, neat notes. A bag sat at her feet, from which a sliver of black peeked out. Carmen’s foot guarded it, changing position regularly, prowling for danger. So that’s it, Rachel thought.

Ashley didn’t come back for the rest of the day. Rachel made an excuse for her, claiming she had food poisoning. With her parents’ wealth and the exotic foods they could import, it wasn’t unlikely, so no one asked questions. Gretchen didn’t give a crap either way. They were stuck until her mother made her way through all the classes. Another assembly was beyond her it seemed. Unless she had other intentions. It was a worse kept secret that Gretchen came and went as she pleased. How long would it be until she was caught?

It didn’t concern her regardless. Rachel preoccupied herself with Carmen. The girl never set her bag far away, even at lunch, when she and Gretchen’s former flunkies went to the fields, it stayed on her person. Whatever that black thing was, it’s the reason for Dakota, Mary and Zoey hanging out with her. And more. Rachel couldn’t speak for Dakota or Carmen, but the others were certified shemales. Close enough.

“This is bullshit!” Gretchen said for the umpteenth time that lunchbreak, “If that fat bitch was here, we could at least order some good shit.” She regarded the cafeteria food with a snarl. It wasn’t bad for the school, but Rachel would be pressed to eat it on regular occasions. Zoey had always brought her own lunch, which she shared on the rare chance they didn’t leave.

“Hmm,” Rachel didn’t say a word. As the only one left from the original circle, she was the sole target for Gretchen’s toxicity. One wrong response and she’d be lucky not to get expelled, or for Gretchen to make another move on Carmen. Chances were that Rachel would be targeted next if she got pissed again. Though that would give her a perfect chance to see just what Carmen did.

No. She’d be part of their group if she did that. The truth always got out, and once it did, then her social life would be over, ruined once Gretchen figured out a way to really make their lives hell. But could she? Without Ashley’s money, then she was just a spiteful bitch. Even her mother seemed to have picked up on her personality.

Too risky, she decided and stayed with Gretchen. She observed Carmen where she could, occasionally catching glimpses of Mary and Zoey’s endowments through their clothes. Strange, considering that no one in her experience would be so brazen. Mary had been a slut on par with Gretchen, but growing a cock would make anyone self-conscious, and yet she wore a tank top that was too small and showed off her stomach, and her skirt was cut shorter than average. Just a little gust and it showed that she lacked panties.

Zoey, above all, wouldn’t be so open. Once word got out, Rachel expected her former friend to wear baggy shorts under the mandatory skirt, or use tape to keep it down, yet she didn’t seem bothered when it created a bulge in the fabric. Rather, she did it on purpose sometimes. Always when Carmen might be looking. Mary seemed to flirt with her too. And Dakota joined in.

Would Ashley become like them?

It was torture. Ashley laid in her bed, phone on silent, tv off and knuckles creaking as she gripped the silk sheets. Her clothes laid in a drenched heap on the floor, now missed as the gaps in her door and windows drafted cruel air into the room. The school day was over, but her torment wasn’t. After Richard picked her up, she hadn’t had a moment of rest. Just walking was a struggle, but she had to hide her front from anyone that might be watching.

Her parents were busy making phone calls at the time. They still asked about her. Richard placated them to her relief. If either of them came in now and saw her for what she had become… the thought churned her stomach. Not because they might be horrified or disgusted by her. Because she might not stop herself.

They had dicks of their own. Pussies too. It didn’t matter whose they were, she wanted to try them. Her cock all throbbed at her. Hours had passed since she last touched them. She couldn’t blame the things for being angry at her, not after she deprived them of what she wanted. What they wanted. Ashley bit her lip, knowing the correction was false. The pounding in her head and shafts demanded pleasure, sex, it didn’t matter from where.

“Ashley?” Richard’s voice carried through the door. It didn’t muffle his refined baritone or the subtle British edge. Her mother had hired him and it was easy to understand why. Deep voice, smart dresser, cordial and handsome. Probably well-endowed too.


“May I come in?”

“Y… n-no! Uh, not right now.”

“I understand. Shall I ask the chefs to prepare you something?”

“I’m fine!” Ashley swallowed her moan. Biting her lip or tongue or cheek wouldn’t work. The only pain her body recognised was from a lack of release. Speaking wasn’t any better. The air diving down her nostrils or throat tickled her like delicate feathers against her clit, which pulsed against her obtrusive balls.

Footsteps faded and ceased, leaving Ashley with nothing to do but marvel at her body. Without the absurd changes, she might appreciate her look. Generous padding to her belly that was squashed beneath her enormous tits. The twin mountains spilled over her ribcage, so large they brushed her navel if unrestrained, suspending her inhuman cocks over the mattress as they dripped pre-cum. Her third and largest member maintained its place.

Heavy dollops of pre-cum gushed from the head and plummeted down the shaft, following dense veins until they broke at her taut sack. The skin shone with her natural lube. Dozens of tubes traversed its surface, each a different possible path for her pre. A sudden surge splattered her crotch. The heat went straight to her bladder, unemptied after that morning.

“I can’t,” Ashley whimpered. If she peed like this, she’d cum and never want to stop. Her parents would find her, either dead or insane surrounded by a pool of semen. It’ll come sooner or later, better to know when, she thought. It was her body trying to convince her, tempting her with truth while it dangled her ultimate desire just beyond. Maybe she could control it for that long. The morning might’ve been a fluke, brought on by the afterglow.

“Fine.” She stood, lips clenched shut as her balls fell and rubbed against her thighs, dick and pussy, while her tits whipped their own cocks around like tassels. Her bathroom seemed miles away. Each step forced her to stop and breathe, but that made it worse the next time. She took a deep breath and coughed. The musk caught in her throat, like a fine, humid mist that clung to the air.

Finally, she slumped against the toilet basin and relaxed. Her testicles plopped against the rim and her cock lurched, sending a rope of pre-cum across the tiled floor. Ashley clenched her eyes shut and focused on urinating. Sooner the better. Then the flow began.

She imagined a cracked dam giving way at last. As her body relieved itself, her head tilted back and her dicks all throbbed in harmony, yet she didn’t come. The tide continued and her body quivered. The seconds stretched to an eternity of bliss, dazzling her in pleasure, yet the peak remained elusive. When she thought the world would implode, the threshold expanded.

“No!” Ashley grunted as the flow stopped, taking her pleasure with it. She chased it, leashing her nipples in her hands and pumping them, pouring pre-cum onto herself. That left her ‘normal’ cock unattended. She abandoned her tit-dicks and doubled over, using her forearms to rub at the neglected pair, while her mouth caught the apple-sized head and swallowed it. It had a different flavour to her animalistic pair, the bitterness was softer, overshadowed by something she recognised. Her musk. It was the reek of her cocks made into a flavour.

“More,” she moaned around it and crushed her tits in her desire. The pressure forced thicker and thicker streams of pre-cum, a third of which she guzzled like a true cum whore. When she couldn’t go further, Ashley sucked. Any advice she’d read or received was worthless. They all relied on dicks half the size of hers. This stretched her jaw to its limit. It would’ve ached if she could feel such a thing.

She pulled away a bit and lapped at it. She caught pre-cum as it tried to escape and gulped it down. The stuff clung to her gullet, garbling her moans as she made out with the crown. She puckered her lips and slid them along the purple head, then pressed against the slit and tongued it. Drool joined the slop that poured down her length and coated her tits.

And still it wasn’t enough. Minutes passed without success. That same bliss eluded her, always just out of reach, no matter how she sucked, stroked or licked. She shoved a hand past her balls, squeezing them tight, and found her cunt. Three fingers stretched her folds and scratched her g-spot to no avail.

“Dammit, come on, come on!” Ashley whined like a common bitch in heat. For every moment that her orgasm escaped, her pleasure seemed to dwindle. As it faded, fire spread through her tits. They gurgled and sloshed, tightened and pushed against her legs until she was forced upright. Before her eyes, they expanded. Inch after inch of taut, tit flesh crawled across her thighs and to her knees, before eclipsing them.

“You’re kidding?!” Ashley pushed to her feet but stumbled on her new weight and fell forward. A cry escaped her as dense streamers of murky pre-cum shot forth. Her boobs swelled onward, devouring the floor now. They rumbled against her body, demanding relief. She wrapped her arms around them, failing to even reach the floor, and squeezed. Still not enough.

Her best wasn’t enough. She crushed them in her arms, rocked her hips to fuck them, but nothing worked. The growth slowed, but her production hadn’t. Cum surged into her tits as they quivered against her centre cock. They stopped growing, she realised with relief, then horror. Every inch of new flesh was packed with cum with more added by the second. If she didn’t cum soon then…

That wasn’t an option. Still more time passed in futile effort. Minutes seemed to become hours. Her tits had didn’t expand to her relief, instead they tightened, straining to hold every gallon of girl jizz inside. She didn’t want them to. It didn’t matter if she flooded her room, or even if she drowned.

“I just want to cum!” Ashley said and, as if breaking through another barrier, sparks exploded across her body and blazed toward her cocks. For a moment, her mind stopped. Her tits rumbled and stretched further, so tight they felt like leather. To her back, her balls surged while her pussy clenched. A calm settled there, before every synapse became a battleground. She lost herself within the ecstasy.

Fleeting moments registered throughout. She recalled the sound of cum slamming into the walls and the feel of it pooling under her tits. Each gush was a memory by itself. The load had condensed inside her, pushing it out was a trial that, once over, sent scorching waves of opaque jizz flying. A tile or two might have cracked under the pressure. Her lower cock was the exception and spilled its load with ease.

She couldn’t tell when it ended. It must have done, as all things did, yet she recovered to find herself still cumming. The sensation was dull by comparison, but she was cumming all the same. Even that didn’t finish it. Again, she passed out in her bliss and woke to the same pleasure, only improved. She once roused awake with a cock in her mouth, gulping its load into her bloated gut. It wasn’t the first either, as several others rounded her stomach.

Ashley didn’t stop. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Anything good in the outside world couldn’t measure up. The chances seemed slim at best. Family didn’t matter when she could just cum and forget them, and she had no friends. Any cause to stop was superseded by the mere reason of continuing.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 24 - Taking the Reins

Tiny and cramped, claustrophobic even. Carmen held her sister close, soothing away the worries of the day. All their meagre belongings crowded the space around the bed, and on a lone island of blankets, their mother laid in a fitful sleep. The bed, while an improvement, offered little space for herself, much less Melody. That didn’t keep Carmen awake, but a boiling rage at the statuesque figure that hovered nearby.

“It didn’t work,” Carmen said in the morning. She left the motel in freshly stained clothes, what created them she didn’t want to think of, and with a vibrant darkness beneath her eyes. She didn’t bother smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt.

“It will,” Ryuka said, “The Futa Note is unstoppable. Whatever is written, will come to pass so long as it’s within the target’s power.”

“Yeah, right. I ruined Ashley for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. You wanted revenge, and you got it. I’d say that you’re even now.”

“I should’ve written Gretchen’s name,” Carmen muttered and shivered. Even her tainted body was repulsed by the idea of Gretchen being enamoured with her. She paused at a bakery. The sunlight turned the glass display into a reflection of herself. Take away the shabby garments and she could pass for an escort. Around the corner, she found a strip club. Perhaps her body could be put to use.

“Don’t you dare,” Ryuka said.

“Why not?” Carmen didn’t react to Ryuka’s apparent mind-reading anymore, “I need money. Mom’s too busy to look for work, Melody’s too young and I… I look like you.”

“Because you’re better than that place. I’ve been inside those places before, they’re disgusting. I’ll never understand why you humans lust after what you can’t have. Just take what you can and enjoy it. And you, Carmen, can take anything.”

Carmen sighed. Kindness seemed like a blot on reality, a tenacious, unwelcome bug that refused to die. She kept her words silent and continued to school, maybe her last day there. Alicia’s savings were worse than she thought. A few nights at the motel, then nothing. Concrete would be their beds, carboard their home, and danger their constant companion. All sorts walked the streets at night. She wouldn’t put Melody in danger like that.

Her friends waited at the school gates. Dakota walked forward first and hugged her.

“I’m sorry about what happened. You can always stay with me,” Dakota said.

“Or me,” Mary added.

“If you need anything, tell me,” Zoey said.

“Thanks,” Carmen nodded and continued into the building. Outside her classroom, she paused. A group of girls stood off to the side, the usual set that lingered for long as possible while they chatted about whatever vapid topic took their fancy. Today, however, they had her attention.

“Ashley hasn’t been in for ages has she?”

“No. Haven’t seen her with Gretchen since last week.”

“She looked weird. Like her tits were bloated.”

“Maybe she got implants?”

“Did they get infected or something? She might be dying.”

Carmen strode to her desk and withdrew the Futa Note from her bag. None of her friends shared the class with her, and the spaces around her had been vacant since the semester started. Not even one page had been used, so her eyes soon found Ashley’s entry, the largest of the four. By comparison, Dakota’s seemed insignificant. Everyone else had something extra to them, a punishment to some extent. And Mary still couldn’t wear anything that didn’t reveal the majority of her body.

Why didn’t she just remove those parts? They were her friends now, had shown her nothing but kindness, and she kept them in a constant flux of transformation, except Dakota. Carmen shut out the suggestion. It was through these details that she improved their lives, and so it would remain. Even if they were no longer necessary.

The honour student blocked the other entries from her thoughts and focused on Ashley’s. Had she truly written it? Since when did she even think of replacing nipples with phalli? It seemed too much, added with the constant swelling and rise in sensitivity. As she read, however, her own penis and pussy warmed. Her heartbeat travelled from her chest and between her thighs. She glanced up and saw Ryuka’s knowing gaze.

“I knew you were a pervert,” the Seikogami said and floated to lounge behind Carmen, “See, you set it all up. You’ll get a fortune.”

“But nothing’s happened yet,” Carmen said through clenched teeth, both to keep her voice quiet and to stem the flow of vitriol she wanted to unleash. It would be unfair to Ryuka. Liar or not, she hadn’t forced Carmen into anything. That honour belonged to Gretchen. Always her. If and when the chance arose, Carmen would destroy her.

“It will. But that’s not all you’re worried about is it?” Ryuka asked.

“No.” She didn’t want to imagine what she’d done to Ashley. If the words came to fruition, then the rich girl would cum just by urinating, and she knew how the book affected libidos. She hadn’t used it on herself, yet she fought every minute to keep her desires under control.

“She won’t die, if that’s your concern.”

“She won’t live either.” Carmen sighed, “Do me a favour and check on her.”

“I don’t work for you. At least not for free.”

“What do you want then? I’m not writing another name,” Carmen added.

Ryuka scoffed at her, “Fine, what about giving that Dakota girl something? I think she’s got a thing for balls. Why not double up on her?”

“No,” Carmen said, later than she’d have liked, “What about oranges? If the book does what it’s supposed to, I’ll buy you dozens of them.”

“Hmm,” Ryuka’s lip twitched in discontent, “Fine. But you better keep your end later.” She said and vanished through the window, flying above the unsuspecting masses, breasts and dick riding the wind roused by her massive wingbeats.

An hour passed before she returned. Carmen sat beside Zoey, sharing her notes to help her learn more than the depressed teacher would ever impart. The athlete’s presence calmed her. Something about her height, dips and arches of her muscles, and smile made it seem like what she’d done wasn’t awful. She glanced at her bag. The Futa Note had helped people, she had helped them.

She spotted Ryuka in the hall after the bell rang. The Seikogami beamed at her from the ceiling. Whatever she’d seen had aroused her. Her cock stood erect and dribbled pre-cum over the floor. People slipped in it but didn’t question why, just cursing their shoes or clumsiness, even those who got doused in the stuff were no wiser. How Ryuka didn’t spent her days abusing such a power bewildered Carmen.

“I need the bathroom. See you at lunch,” Carmen said. The nearest bathroom was void of life, aside from the occasional insect. She shut herself in a stall, unwilling to look at her reflection. Ryuka quickly joined her.

“I don’t know if you intended it or not, but I love your brain,” Ryuka said and hugged her.

“Get off,” Carmen shoved her back, grimacing at the cock sliding against her body – and how it made her crave more.

“Sorry, forgot you don’t like fun,” the Seikogami pouted, but her tone remained jovial, “Anyway, Ashley’s still kicking, like I said she would be. But…”

Carmen sighed, “But?”

“She’s just cumming. I watched her for an hour and she didn’t stop once. When I thought she was finished, she just poked herself and boom!”

“Great,” Carmen groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head throbbed in dismay.

“You don’t sound happy.”

“Of course not. I’m an idiot. Aside from what I’ve done to her, she can’t fulfil the Futa Note’s command this way. Even if it influenced her family in some way, I imagine that she has to finalise it. As she is, she can’t do that.”

“Then change it to something she can handle.”

“Yeah,” Carmen found the book and looked over the entry again. When she erased it, she would have the same amount of time to redo it all. However, in the privacy of her mind, she didn’t want to. Ashley deserved to suffer in some way. Trapped in her orgasms seemed merciful enough, “Or add something.”

“Oh, I think we’re going to get along if this keeps up,” Ryuka later said once Carmen slid the book away. She’d need to wait until after school to test the addition, but she doubted the book would fail. It hadn’t before, she’d simply misjudged its power. The saying went ‘ignorance is bliss’, but it irked her. Ignorance is dangerous.

Anticipation dragged out her classes into numbing sessions of staring and pondering. She didn’t study, having covered all the information necessary for exams, and found herself eying the Futa Note more often. The idea that Dakota was plain, that she should have more, wouldn’t leave her be. She couldn’t. Out of their group of four, she was the most average, if that were possible for futanari, and therefore most relatable. She could have a normal life beyond them.

Although, if she hadn’t reminded Mary, and Gretchen, that the library existed, none of this would have occurred. She’d never have found the Futa Note, slipped under Gretchen’s notice, sailed through school. Her family would still be at home, and she might have still been with Stacy. Dakota had set everything in motion. Just being a futanari didn’t cover the damage. She deserved more.

“She doesn’t,” Carmen said to herself. She’d like it. The thought somehow had a sultry tone, like Ryuka’s natural voice, a gentle huskiness that both annoyed and enticed her. She looked to the Seikogami, who swam through the air, whacking her absurd member against random people to amuse herself. Their eyes met.

“What’re you thinking about?” The words came through clearer than if they were spoken. Carmen brushed at her ear, expecting – hoping – to find another Ryuka there. Nothing.

“What the hell?” Carmen whispered. Ryuka’s eyes broadened, then she chuckled and came over, plopping her breasts upon the desk, almost radiating pleasure.

“You can hear my thoughts?”

“That’s what that was?”

“This is incredible. I could tune into your head weeks ago, but I thought that was simply my getting used to you. But you’re able to tap into mine? Oh, how exciting!” Ryuka giggled, her hips shimmied like a dog wagging its tail. The cheeks clapped together each time.

“What does it mean?” Carmen hissed, wary of using her apparent telepathy.

“What do you think? I only have a vague idea myself.”

“I’m turning into one of you. That’s it, right? Because we’re becoming similar, our thoughts are linked or something?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. There’s no precedent, so I don’t know for certain. Could be that the book is opening our minds to each other. It was mine after all.”

Carmen pulled her bag closer. If that was the case, then the book was more dangerous than she thought. Her mind belonged to her, no one else, but now Ryuka could peer in at any time… “Wait, you said you could read my mind for weeks.”

“Well, not read so much as get a couple of words here and there. Don’t worry, even now it’s still unclear. Unless you’re relaxed, I can’t get a good signal.”

Carmen’s cheeks burned nonetheless, “Stay out of my head.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll use the book to get rid of all oranges. It’s powers are potentially limitless, correct?”

“Fine,” Ryuka huffed, “But feel free to look around in mine. I’m always an open book.”

“No thank you.” But it could be useful, she thought. No situations came to mind for the moment, so she stored the possibility in the back of her mind. For now, she needed to prepare herself for when after school. Once the day was over, all her monetary woes would be cleared. A better life for her family. A new house, Melody could have proper clothes, toys, and Alicia could pursue her passions. Things that had seemed like fantasies. If the book worked as intended.

The final bell startled her into action. Unlike many others, she preferred to sit back and wait for the clamour to quiet down, then make her exit. Not today. Carmen bolted to her feet and was first from the door. Murmurs and jeers followed her rush. She found Mary out front, waiting.

“So, what brought this on?” The blonde asked once they found her car parked around the block. It was a student’s car through and through. Bits of the paintjob chipped free and stains spattered across its windows. Birds had taken a chance at making it a Jackson Pollock, their work clear despite a recent wash. The interior had been cleaned, with soft seats and a coconut air freshener.

“I’m making amends,” Carmen said.

“How so? She put you in hell, and you broke her nose. Still seems unfair to me.”

“Well,” Carmen let a smirk slip, “I’m hoping to take her from Gretchen.”

“Oh? Sounds devious. Like something I would do,” Mary said.

“I’m not going to bully her into it. Just make it clear who has her better interests in mind.”

“To be honest, I’ve missed her,” Mary said, “Even before, um, you know what happened, I had a bit of a crush on her.”

“Really? I thought you’d like someone more out there.”

“She’s cute,” Mary shrugged and turned onto another road. They were in the better cared for districts now, surrounded by artisan shops and business buildings, the sidewalks spotted with trees.

“And her curves have nothing to do with it?” Carmen teased.

“Duh, have you looked at her ass? Hmm… delicious.”

They shared a laugh and settled into silence, listening to the radio while Carmen took in the ever-changing landscape. The car drove down a stretch of land, undeveloped save for the road, but clearly tended to. In the distance, a structure loomed, attached to smaller buildings on either side. Several vans were parked outside with large men moving to and from them, loading pieces of furniture or artwork. They never entered the home in empty-handed.

“Okay, that’s weird.”

“Yeah, weird,” Carmen gulped when they closed in. The manse seemed to spring from its dictionary definition. Ornate pillars supported the balcony that hung over the entrance, all made from marble and free of vegetation. The sun struck and bounced off them, dazzling her. The smaller structures seemed to be recreational rooms of sorts. Or servant’s quarters. Such a place must require an expansive staff.

And yet, her family now called a motel room home. Her foot brushed her bag and temptation whispered in her ear. Carmen took a long breath. This could be their life soon.

“Let’s go,” Carmen said. Standing outside, she held some hope that the interior might not be as enormous, which vanished with one step inside. Vases, busts, paintings, diamonds, chandeliers and furnishings all shimmered around her. She didn’t linger on the numerous silhouettes of what had already been taken. The dizzying walls led to a massive stairway that splintered into two directions, joined by a banister. The men treated them like spectres, working with a detached efficiency.

Mary led her through one of many doors. The floor changed from flawless marble to a rustic wood, varnished to a lush sheen. More pathways lined the hallway, but they ignored them all. No maids or butlers stopped them, though they passed a dozen. Carmen kept her gaze planted ahead, depressed by the mere thought of Ashley’s overwhelming wealth.

They stopped outside a door at the end. It stood out from the rest, painted in drizzles of colour and adorned with a plaque inscribed with Ashley’s name. The air around it seemed stale, a musty aroma of disuse clung to the walls, like no one had been around it for several days. Carmen quashed her sympathy. She didn’t have time to fret over Ashley, and the sooner she left this place the better.

“Ashley?” Mary asked after knocking. All they got in answer was a howling moan, followed by dull, heavy splats against walls, then a barrage on the door itself. Both jumped back at the impact.

“Um, what the fuck was that?” Mary asked.

“Y-yeah,” Carmen forced an ignorant smile, “Let’s find out.”

“Seriously?” Mary groaned, but she didn’t move when Carmen took the handle. She found it was unlocked and pushed inside.

Her first step inside squelched on the carpet, sending shivers up her spine. The room was dark, but the column of light she unleashed brought out the white slop strewn about. Ropes of the stuff fell from the ceiling and splattered against the covered floor. Carmen gulped and took a breath. Bad idea, she soon thought and pinched her nostrils shut. The air reeked of stagnant cum, overlaid by fresher produce. Her own penis lurched against her skirt.

“Holy fuck!” Mary gasped when she saw it. Carmen nodded and pushed in, ignoring how the semen soaked into her shoes and socks, squishing between her toes. She bit her lip. It doesn’t feel good, she thought, not at all. Opening the door displaced the goop and forced it to ooze out into the hall. Mary grunted in what should’ve been disgust, but Carmen detected lust within the noise.

They waded through the muck toward a bed at the centre. A shadowed figure writhed atop it, moaning and whimpering. Ashley laid on her stomach, fingers clawing at the mattress, while her hips rocked in anthem with her moans. Mary hung back and opened the door wider, further illuminating the scene.

Nothing was spared. Cum drooled down the walls, over drawers, a desk, even a tv. Lumps of what were perhaps clothes were macerated in the stuff. Through another door, Carmen saw a bathroom in a similar state. Ashley, herself, dripped with the stuff. Her belly bulged to the sides and her ass jiggled in her eternal orgasm.

“Ashley?” Mary said. Ashley moaned in response and the bed groaned under a renewed climax. It sank under Carmen’s weight as she sat. She grimaced at how it squelched, and contemplated the girl before her. Not an inch of skin showed past the creamy layers of semen, though she was pale enough that it might blend in. She didn’t seem aware another person was so close. Much less the one she probably lusted after more than any other.

“Hey,” Carmen said and placed a tentative hand on her thigh. The resulting scream was muffled, yet still echoed in her ears. Cum poured from between her body and the bed, too saturated to absorb another drop, let alone gallons. It couldn’t be gallons, Carmen thought and shuffled away to avoid the flow. Her skirt and legs were covered already, she wasn’t about to let her top half be ruined.

When the flow subsided, Ashley panted into her pillow and turned over. Carmen held back her gasp, but Mary released it for her.

“What the actual fuck?” The blonde trudged through cum to stand over her former subordinate, now equipped with two flaccid phalli on her tits, and another, larger member draped over a pair of huge balls. As she would always be. She didn’t deserve to be ‘normal’, regardless of how her fealty changed.

“Mary?” Ashley frowned and pushed herself up. Her breasts piled into her lap, both larger than her head – several sizes beyond even Mary’s massive set – and she shivered. Carmen hadn’t removed her sensitivity, merely offered an outlet for it, one that gave her control. The tri-cocked futa wiped the gunk from her eyes, then saw Carmen.



“I’m so sorry!” Ashley yelled and floundered to her knees, before bowing her head low. She quivered again, this time in fear, “I didn’t meant to. Gretchen made me. I swear!”

“Of course she did,” Carmen said, though she didn’t comfort the girl.

“You… you believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Thank you,” Ashley breathed, though she didn’t raise her head, “And for, um, helping me. I feel so much better. How did you do that?” Now she sat back. Her eyes struggled to keep focus and her voice had a muddled sound to it, likely from the only nourishment she could get. Carmen glanced at her belly, rounder than she remembered it being.

“Guess I have a talent for it,” Carmen said.

“Anyway,” Mary interjected, “Just how did your tits get so big so fast?” Carmen glanced at her, noting the blatant desire in her gaze, and the rising folds of her skirt. She’d almost forgotten that Mary couldn’t use underwear, and now she saw its convenience as her penis swelled into the open.

“Uh, I… it just happened. When th-these,” Ashley cradled her top-most shafts. She moaned at the gentle touch. Soon, the pair rose once more, “No… just let me rest!”

“How sensitive are you?” Mary wondered aloud and sat beside her, taking a breast in hand. Pre-cum dribbled from all three members. Mary smirked and leaned in, placing her lips close to Ashley’s ear, while another hand cradled her thigh, “Guess we’re both freaks now.”

“Sorry,” Ashley said. Lust layered her voice, depriving it of any other emotion.

“Don’t be. Remember when I kissed you?”

“Yeah,” Ashley moaned as the blonde’s lips trailed across her neck, tongue lashing out to catch any fresh drops of semen left behind, smiling at the flavour. The tri-cocked futa panted lightly as she worked, eyes half-glazed over.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Ashley gasped when Mary switched to her untouched breast. Fingers massaged the flesh, squeezing out pre-cum by the ounce, “It… I wanted to talk about it, but Gretchen…”

“It’s okay,” Mary climbed her way to the jaw, then to Ashley’s lips, “How about we make up for lost time?”

Carmen caught Ashley’s eye, causing a violent blush to break through her cum-layered cheeks. Following her gaze, Mary turned and grinned at the honour student. Something about the display grabbed her and refused to let go. She was audience to the exchange without a concern. Would they take it further despite her presence? Perhaps because she had orchestrated it, even if she hadn’t intended to. Or perhaps because she had power here. She’d left her bag, and the book, in the car, yet these two futanari were under her thrall.

Carmen leaned forward. She didn’t want them to continue without her. Desire pooled and overflowed through her veins, stealing the reins of self-control. After everything Ashley had done to her, Carmen deserved to take some joy in her condition.

She trailed her fingers along Ashley’s thigh, ignoring the ‘usual’ cock, and up her stomach. She replaced Mary’s hands and fondled both breasts, squeezing as if to mould them into new shapes, but they were defiant and maintained their massive, teardrop forms. Ashley squirmed under her touch, face red and lips tight. Moans sang from her chest.

She released them to a heavy smack. Carmen traced a vein along each penis, going to the flared, angled heads, from which a steady tide of pre-cum flowed. They leapt and spewed more at her touch. Slime washed away the dried up semen. Her tits rested heavily against her stomach, obscuring over half of the pudgy skin, and jiggled with her pleasure. Carmen licked her lips at the intoxicating, pungent odour.

That moment with Zoey flashed in her mind. She’d made the Amazonian cum, left her a moaning mess, effectively reduced her to a plaything. If Carmen wanted, she could have done anything to her and Zoey would’ve approved of it. Now that same option stared her in the face, more tempting than before. Ashley had an addicts personality, the evidence of it stained everything in sight.

Done right, she would become dependent on Carmen’s touch. Her pleasure. Her very presence.

“Please?” Ashley whispered. Carmen looked up, stunned that she’d gotten so close without noticing. The plump girl stared back, gasping for air, hands curled around her bedsheets and eyes bewildered by lust. Like Zoey, like all futanari that Carmen had made, this person wanted to be used. Loved might be more appropriate, but she would take anything. Even the curious touches Carmen drip fed her.

“What?” Carmen asked. She caught Mary’s eye, a glimmer of her old sadism in her smile, and waited.

“Make me… make me cum.”

“Hmm,” Carmen coiled her fingers loosely around Ashley’s right dick. It pumped off waves of heat, stronger with every pulse. She tightened her grip. Such a different sensation compared to Zoey’s, which had felt soft and lumpy. This was rigid, like iron covered in vines of ivy, all coalescing at the equally solid tip. In other words, it wasn’t human. Just as she’d wanted.

“What? What’re you waiting for? Please, do it,” Ashley said, shivering at the languid stroke, then jerked as Carmen grasped the head. She loosened her grip and Ashley also relaxed. She moved and Ashley shuddered. Like a puppet, Carmen thought. The richest girl in Saint Puella was nothing but a toy now, desperate to please and cum. As she always would be. She looked to Mary again, imploring her with whimpering moans.

“Alright,” Mary said and dove in. Carmen swallowed a gasp as she observed the former slut take the left cock down her throat in one strike. While not huge, no longer than six inches, she seemed heedless of the bulge it made in her throat, or how her eyes watered and smeared her makeup. The sudden burst sent Ashley onto her back, pulling her mostly dry shaft from Carmen’s grip. She shoved a hand between her legs to stroke her human member.

Just like that, all Carmen’s clout had been stolen. The two futanari writhed in place, both as enraptured by their own debauchery as the other. She saw Mary stroking herself as she bobbed her head to and fro. Neither seemed aware of Carmen’s existence anymore.

Until she snatched both their wrists and stilled their masturbation. Mary froze and looked at her, mouth still filled with cock, as did Ashley, “You cum, when I say.” Carmen said. In the back of her mind, she sensed Ryuka’s amusement, despite the Seikogami being absent. She ignored it. For her intentions to work, she needed control.

“But…” Ashley gulped, “Yes, ma’am.” Her arm went lax and fell to her side, leaving her cock to weep pre-cum. Carmen held Mary’s eyes. The blonde didn’t look away or relax, even as her face turned red and purple, until instinct demanded that she pull away.

“Fine,” Mary rasped, clearing her throat of pre-cum and spit, “What now?” Carmen tensed at the question, uncertain of what she intended. She needed to make Ashley submissive to her, a task that seemed complete, but something gnawed at her mind. Hunger, worry, anger… lust? That smell snuck up on her again, interlaced with Mary’s own arousal. Her body burned, blood pumping in her ears and to her crotch. It demanded that she satisfy her cravings.

“Do what you want with her. She did ruin your life, after all. She forced you to do things you didn’t want to. You’re sleeping in a dirty motel room and she’s here living in the lap of luxury.”

“Make her suffer,” Carmen whispered and straddled Ashley’s pudgy gut. She trapped the oversized member under her rear, crushing it against her body. She wouldn’t touch it beyond that. Beneath her, Ashley’s tits poured over her chest and onto the bed. Carmen shoved both together and up, burying their bearer’s face in them.

She, then, curled over until her chin rested on Ashley’s breast and exhaled on a cock. The futa yelped and bucked beneath her. She whimpered as Carmen kissed the crown of a penis, where she waited. Mary took the hint and assumed the same posture, though a glob of drool escaped her lips. Ashley looked between them, begging for either to suck her, even going so far as to arch her torso.

It wasn’t until she stopped that Carmen moved again. She slid her lips down and up the shaft, offering a hint of true pleasure. Ashley arched her back, so she stopped and waited. The cock throbbed against her lips, boiling in its frustration. Its wielder stopped and Carmen resumed, circuiting the shaft and head, then pulled back. She licked her lips, drawing the flavour into her mouth.

Like its feel, the cocks taste intrigued her. Not pleasant by conventional means. It had a spice that invited study, calling her tongue to the source. Carmen swallowed her hesitation and licked the head, as pre-cum sprouted forth. She recoiled at the sudden spurt into her mouth and went to spit it out, but paused. Another curious flavour.

Carmen sought Ashley’s eyes and found them wide, pupils dilated, and locked on her. Under the Futa Note’s power, this must be a dream come true for her. However, she could turn it to a nightmare with a simple act. Carmen swallowed, ignoring how the viscous sludge clung to her throat, and returned to the cock, tormenting Ashley. To her left, Mary eagerly followed suite.

This time, Carmen took her example. No matter the disparity between their intellect, the blonde had more experience, disturbingly so at her age. Mary slid her lips down and over the shaft, cheeks hollow as if sucking a lollipop. As she receded, her tongue weaved subtle patterns, and she made no effort to swallow the copious fluids. Spit and pre cascaded down Ashley’s shaft and spilled between her tits, where Mary’s hands rubbed it in. Despite her skill, Mary didn’t have control.

Perhaps it came from Ryuka’s constant presence, but Carmen sensed that her blonde friend didn’t long for power or to fulfil her own desires. She served. In some ways, she might be more submissive than Ashley. It became clearer as Mary moaned without touching herself, taking delight in having her throat flooded and hearing Ashley’s moans, which rose into sharp yells.

Carmen yanked herself and Mary away.

“No! Don’t stop! I was so close!” Ashley said. She tried bucking her hips and pushing herself up, but Carmen pinned her with ease. Once she had calmed down, Carmen went back to the right cock. She hadn’t taken more than the head into her mouth, held back by uncertainty, but now she forced herself deeper. The rigid spire pressed hard on her tongue and nudged the back of her throat. More of Ashley’s unusual flavour danced on her taste buds and the smell congealed around her. The scent of an animal, Carmen realised. Fitting.

Again, Ashley’s moans signalled her climax and, again, Carmen deprived her of it. Once the sensations dwindled, they resumed. An endless cycle that shortened each time as Ashley became more desperate and sensitive. Her breasts swelled with unspent semen, spilling further onto the bed. Blue veins webbed across the tightening globes, which shone with the mixture of fluids.

If it were someone else, at another time, Carmen might’ve basked in the sight. She could picture Stacy there, trapped under her body, enslaved to desire and loving every second of it. So long as Carmen was there. Lust and anger and regret coiled within the pit of her stomach. She ignored all but her lust, intent on letting her fantasies play. For that was the only way she could see Stacy anymore.

Her body fed on the new emotions. Carmen hid a moan behind a grunt as her nipples and dick pressed against their bonds, caught in a sudden blaze. She pictured Stacy’s massive breasts beneath her, lathered in nothing but Carmen’s pre-cum, lactating entire gallons of milk. She drank it all with greedy gulps, intent on draining the masses. Through it all, she thrust between them.

Each tit dwarfed her member, obscuring it even as she powered toward a climax. Their softness rippled with every thrust, enveloped her shaft, coated it in warmth and love. She imagined laying upon them once more, sinking into their plushness without a care.

“I’m cumming!” Ashley’s cry stole Carmen from her reverie.

She blinked at the scene around her, before noticing the throbbing inside her maw. Mary gagged and went down to the hilt, so Carmen did the same, too caught in the crash of reality to think. Then Ashley came. Beneath Carmen’s rump, the human phallus lurched and spilled its load, soaking her skirt. It lasted mere seconds but soaked everything in range. Once it ended, the other two took up the siege.

The terse flesh of Ashley’s tits rippled and tightened further, then her cocks distended. They swelled from base to head, every inch burned in Carmen’s throat, yet nothing came. When she thought to question her lack of gag-reflex or discomfort, the tide struck. Unlike her ‘normal’ member, Ashley’s nipples weren’t wide enough to unleash the full flood. Instead, cum gathered in the shafts and pressed on the exit until it became too much and the pressure expelled them.

All the heat transferred into Carmen. It pooled in her belly, saturated her oesophagus as she was forced to swallow. When the initial blast dwindled, she pulled away to avoid swallowing more. The tip caught in her throat, hindering her long enough for the second burst. Gouts of seed spilled down her gullet and bubbled from her nose. She gagged on the load, spilling dense ropes from her lips.

Carmen yanked herself away and retched up the last of the cum that coated her throat and nostrils. She cradled her stomach. It felt hot and bloated, depressing further than usual under her fingers. She moved to the side, releasing Ashley and waited for the rest of her climax to unfold.

“Thank you,” Ashley eventually said. Her breasts had shrunk and swallowed her members, leaving only the black areolae and bulbous opening to hint at their existence. And the gallons upon gallons of dried seed that decorated her room.

“It was nothing,” Mary said and patted her own belly. She had stuck through most of the orgasm, taking far more than Carmen had, and sported a slight gut that forced her already skimpy shirt to ride up higher. The two laid side by side, their breasts spilling into each other. Carmen angled her hips away.

“I’m serious,” Ashley said and looked at Carmen, “If you guys didn’t show up, I don’t think I would’ve stopped. I don’t know what you did, Carmen, but thank you. If you need anything at all just tell me.”

“I will,” Carmen smiled. It was as she’d written it to be. That last sentence had been one of her creation, a sign of Ashley’s fealty. She almost laughed at herself. Her entire situation seemed almost medieval, like something straight from a fantasy. Perhaps her family was royalty removed from power by Gretchen, an empress, and everything was for the sake of reclaiming the throne. Regardless of the price she must pay to do so.

“I’ve gotta get home,” Carmen said.

“Maybe get a change of clothes first,” Mary suggested.

“Oh, yeah,” Carmen looked down at herself. Everything but her back was coated in Ashley’s ejaculate. How hadn’t she noticed? Her clothes clung to her body like a second skin, bringing all her curves into stark relief. The two futanari struggled to look away.

“I have some spares in the wardrobe,” Ashley said and got up, “Oh god, it’s been so long since I could stand up!” She stretched and jumped a couple of times. Her tits smacked her belly, eliciting moans each time.

Though shorter than Mary and Carmen, her clothes fit them well enough, “Thanks, Ashley.” Mary said.

“No problem. It’s the least I can do right now.”

“You can do a lot more, though,” Mary said with a suggestive smirk, “Right?”

“Y-yeah. Whatever you want,” Ashley said and found herself embraced by the blonde. Their breasts smothered the other pair, vying for dominance.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve missed you,” Mary said, “Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Ashley breathed the word and leaned into Mary, “You know, you’re welcome to stay.”

“Oh, look who grew some balls,” Mary chuckled.

“I’ve got more than you,” Ashley beamed, still drunk on the afterglow.

“I’ll be back soon, just gotta drop Carmen off.”

Carmen didn’t ask what they planned, or if Dakota would mind. Her mind blustered with possibilities. Everything seemed on track again, removing the Futa Note from the equation once more. But the chance of it going wrong nagged at the back of her mind. Then she’d need it once again.

Regardless of how it went, she couldn’t afford to remain ignorant to the book’s abilities. She understood the basics and that it seemed without limitations given Ashley’s new physiology, and the fact she survived without food for several days, but some nuances eluded her. Everything had a peak. How far did it’s power reach? Could one victim affect others in the same way?

She needed to truly test it. Control it. Once she did, then she could resist. The unknown tempts, but knowledge satisfies. Carmen glanced down at herself, over the precipice of her bust. She hadn’t masturbated in months. Her current form was remained an oddity to her. From the heavy breasts, to her seat-swallowing hips and the twin genitals between. Soon, she thought and swore she sensed Ryuka laughing.

It didn’t matter. Ryuka had done enough for her, perhaps it was time to give her some entertainment. After graduation, she decided. To celebrate.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 25 - Graduation

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mary said.

“Yeah, see you.” Carmen watched the car speed away, hastened by Mary’s libido no doubt, and sighed when she looked upon the miserable motel. Compared to Ashley’s home, or any domicile with a modicum of care, it resembled a punishment. How could anyone sleep there? Let alone eat and relax.

On the way to her room, she passed a recently boarded up window. Another room had its door partly destroyed, chips of it lining the cramped walkway. The smell of rot urged her away. Melody couldn’t stay here. A child’s naivete is fragile, they learned faster than most gave them credit for. She had to protect it, at all costs. Otherwise all the time she spent dealing with Gretchen and restraining herself would be wasted.

The mouldy door creaked open at her shove. Her cheeks strained for a smile, but it wasn’t necessary. One foot in the door and her mother accosted her in a breathtaking embrace.

“Carmen! Oh, baby! It’s finally happened!” Alicia wailed, sobbing into her eldest child’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Carmen said, straining to breath and ignore how soft her mother’s chest felt. When released, she saw Alicia’s bloodshot eyes gleaming with her jubilant smile and tears. Across the room, Melody also stared, though she seemed flustered.

“Our lucky break! I got a call from the bank. I thought it was a prank at first, then I went and checked and… and look!” From her purse, Alicia produced a roll of fifty dollar bills. Her eyes studied it, as if disbelieving that she held so much money, then put it away, “And that’s barely a fraction of it. We’re rich, sweetheart!”

Carmen suddenly felt the Futa Note’s weight in her bag. Or perhaps that was Ryuka leaning on her shoulder, giggling at the older woman’s glee. Without either, this wouldn’t be possible. When was the last time her mother smiled like this? Alicia flopped onto a bed and just laughed, relaxed for the first time in years. Finally, no job to rush to or desperate need for sleep. All her woes had vanished. Gone, as if by magic.

Because of the Futa Note. Because Carmen transformed a wealthy girl into some triple-cocked freak that had a possible addiction to orgasms, and who, at that moment, was likely with Mary continuing where they left off. Unsanctioned jealousy swirled in her chest, a dark cloud that quivered against the brightness of her reprieve.

“That’s great,” Carmen lunged for Melody and kissed her forehead, “No more tatty clothes for you, Supergirl.”


“Yep. We’re gonna turn you into a princess.”

“Ugh,” Melody crinkled her nose.

“Oh?” Carmen chuckled, “What about a superhero then? Tight spandex and a cape and all that stuff.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” Carmen said, “Supergirl needs a proper costume after all.” In the back of her mind, another thought emerged. Her sister wanted to be a superhero, someone strong and beloved by all, and she could have it. Just a few sentences. She held it back, strangled by chains of her self-restraint. They creaked from the strain though, having loosened in the past months of abuse.

“I’ve got some design ideas then,” Melody said and rummaged through her school bag, pulling out a tortured sketchbook. The cover had been torn in several places, and the pages seemed flaky, like they’d been doused in water and left to dry. Melody ignored that and went to the back, where she had several crude sketches of herself and Carmen.

“Wow, I get to be your sidekick?” Carmen said, biting back her mortified laughter at how large Melody drew her chest.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. You get some cool tricks and stuff too. Just not as cool as mine.”

“How generous,” Carmen said dryly.

“I thought so,” Melody grinned.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Alicia, once she recovered from the shock of it all, was on the phone to a hotel. One with ample storage. They moved there the same evening, and had a decent meal, their first one in a restaurant since Carmen’s father passed. Melody went to bed warm and happy, mumbling in her sleep about all the things she had planned.

Carmen stayed with Alicia, corralled into her celebration.

“Just a bit then,” Carmen sighed. Her mother could be persuasive, and persistent, as such she took the glass of red wine. Not the cheap stuff either. She sniffed at it as she’d seen people do in film, then took a quick sip, “Oh god, that’s bitter.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Alicia giggled, already on her second glass since returning from dinner. The alcohol had worked its way into her system, turning her cheeks a rosy tone.

“Don’t think I want to,” Carmen said but took another sip for good measure. It burned her throat, making her crave another drink.

“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Alicia said, looking around the spacious room. Even occupied by three beds, a nightstand between them, and the unnecessarily large tv, they had plenty of room. And things could only get better from there.

Clothes and school supplies were the tip. Soon they’d have a house, somewhere to call home without a hint of sarcasm or fear that it would collapse on them. A room and bed for each of them, somewhere to be alone and relax. Even a garden. Alicia had said she liked raising plants. What little excess she could once afford had been spent on trying to liven the apartment up with flowers, but rats got to them before they could even bloom. Not anymore.

“Me neither,” Carmen said and had another sip. The taste still revolted her, but the heat was welcome. It seemed to flow from her mouth throughout her body, soothing all her muscles. She sank into the pillows on her bed. Had she really been so tense?

“We could buy a house,” Alicia said.


“And a car. Oh, I really want a car. Buses and trains are nightmares.”

“Can’t stand them.”

“You and Melody can finally have some proper clothes. And toys! She hasn’t had a proper toy since she was tiny. Phones too.”

“Don’t spoil her. Last thing we want is Melody to grow up as a snob.”

“Hell no,” Alicia giggled and poured herself another glass. She raised a brow to Carmen, who realised her own drink had gone. The honour student shrugged and let her mother fill it.

“Still, we should get her into a better school. That place is horrible.”

“Agreed.” Melody’s school, while not dilapidated or haemorrhaging money like Saint Puella’s, had a reputation for being unsavoury to say the least. Her sketchbook was proof enough that she was bullied there.

“And you too. Won’t have to deal with that ridiculous prep year.”

“Um, no. That’s fine.”

Alicia frowned, “Honey, that place is awful.”

“Yeah, but… I’ve got friends there. And it’s not like I need to rush into college now or anything.”

“Alright. If you say so,” Alicia said, though she sounded unconvinced, then yawned, “I’m turning in for the night.”

“I’m gonna have a bath first.”

“Sure. Good night, sweetheart.” And like that, her mother was passed out. Carmen shook her head at the woman and pulled the covers over her sleeping form, then parted with a grateful kiss on the cheek.

“Good night, mum.”

Of all the things being poor had robbed from her, Carmen hadn’t expected to miss a proper bath as much as she did. She sank into the clear water, disturbed only by the suds and swirls of nutrient oils. It caressed her skin rather than clung and seemed to ripple with her movements, always staying in sync with her. A sigh slipped out at the sensation of it against her breasts.

“You seem happy,” Ryuka said.

“I’ve missed this,” Carmen said and raised a leg, smooth as the marble tiling along the walls. She hadn’t needed to shave since finding the Futa Note, one of the few welcome changes, “Warm, clean water. And bubbles! It’s the simple things that make life worthwhile.”

“Hmm, let me see.” Ryuka released whatever power that kept her afloat, splashing into the water, “Oh, that is nice.” She reclined into the water, kicking up her legs on either side.

Carmen gulped. The tub was large, two people could fit with ease if they didn’t mind touching, which meant her leg came into direct contact with Ryuka’s penis. Her eyes wondered over the Seikogami again, willing the bubbles from her sight to bask in the pale splendour. With skin like a fine cream, Ryuka’s midnight wings, and scarlet eyes and lips stood out all the more vibrantly. This was an immortal creature, with a beauty humans had strived for since the dark ages, and she’d turned Carmen’s life into torment. Yet also brought her to this point years ahead of schedule.

“Thank you,” Carmen said.

“For what?” Ryuka sank deeper into the water. Her breasts floated on the surface, so huge but buoyant and tempting.

“For the Futa Note.”

“I thought it ruined your life.”

Carmen shook her head. The water seemed hot now, or was that Ryuka’s heat. It couldn’t be her own, “I mean, it’s messed up all my plans and made me into this, but… I never thought I’d get here until I was, like, twenty-five or something. Let alone with my whole family. And did you see my mum? I haven’t seen her smile like that in years. So, yes. The book ruined my life, but we wouldn’t be here without it. Or you.”

“Thanks.” For once, the deity looked uncomfortable. She didn’t blush, perhaps because she was incapable of it, but she’d never looked more… appealing. Carmen pushed through the water until she all but straddled Ryuka. Their genitals touched, the same yet exact opposites to each other, earning a soft gasp from Carmen. She cupped the Seikogami’s cheeks, captivated for a moment by how soft they were in her hands, and leaned in. Their lips met for the briefest moment, a spark of desire crackled within her, before Carmen realised what she’d done.

“I’m leaving.”

Ryuka didn’t follow, merely looked to the empty doorway and touched her lips. “So interesting.”

Entire continents separated yesterday and waking up the next morning. The motel had been a frozen tundra, desolate and inhospitable, fraught with danger at every corner. And now she experienced a gorgeous sunrise on a field of daisies and daffodils, punctuated by the sheen of a gorgeous goddess. Carmen ran a hand through her hair, hoping to swipe away such thoughts.

She let the strands flow around her fingers. Darker than it had ever been, but cleaner, fuller and stronger too. Though slight, the similarities between herself and Ryuka grew everyday. There are far worse fates, Carmen thought with a glance to the dozing god. Her lips drew her gaze, kindling the memory of yesterday night. That was a mistake, spurred by Alicia’s wine.

“I can’t lose control, even now,” Carmen murmured and went to use the toilet, careful not to rouse Melody. That girl deserved to sleep in luxury for a lifetime.

She coasted by on days of extravagance. Everyday, she went to slept and woke in a luscious bed, bathed with clean water, and went clothes shopping for the first time. Melody’s excitement was intoxicating, even dilated by a memory. But it wasn’t extravagant. Beyond the hotel, everything was as it should’ve been. After so long, they ate good food, she and Melody had clothes to call their own, without holes or the reek of previous owners.

School fell to wayside. She didn’t pay attention to the shift in murmurs around her, discussing the massive improvement to her wardrobe, or how Ashley had returned with an opposite change. The former millionaire, once clad in designer shirts and sweaters, now walked through with a simple tee that hugged her plump figure. Bold move, considering her oddities. Over the weeks, she adopted a darker aesthetic. Dark eye liner and lipstick, with matching tights that rose beneath her skirt. At times, Carmen noticed a bulge in them.

Neither Dakota or Zoey argued her being around them. Carmen had forgiven her and that was enough, especially after they heard what she’d done for the Robins’ family. It’s strange, the honour student thought one day at lunch, looking around at the people sat with her. Each of them had wronged her in one way or another, some more than others. She’d gotten them back of course, which was why they sat with her, talked to her, and trusted her.

But they didn’t know what she’d done. What they did to her ranged from mere inconvenience to outright malicious, yet she’d turned them all into futanari and made them attracted to her, removing their social status in the process. Would they still like her if they knew? Carmen didn’t want to find out.

Why? If they knew that she was somehow responsible for their new genders, what could they do. Spread the word perhaps, but no one would believe them. They’d end up separate from everyone, Carmen included, and suffer for it. The Futa Note made them attracted to her, they all longed for her. She saw it day after day in their glances, or inconspicuous flirting, how they wished she was theirs. They’d never leave her.

A smile escaped at the thought. She’d spent every year of high school friendless without complaint, and now she didn’t want to to lose them. Nothing made them that different to any other person she’d met. Dakota was nice, athletic and that slight twinge of German in her voice. Mary had the greatest breasts that Carmen had seen. Zoey towered over them all with muscles to match. Then there was Ashley, plump and soft and eager to please.

“I’d wager they all tick a little fetish for you,” Ryuka said on the way back to the hotel, “Well, except Mary. Big tits are absolutely your kink.”

“Shut up,” Carmen said, but couldn’t stop a grin. Denying the fact was futile, given how much she’d adored Stacy’s chest. Her smile fell.

“Sorry,” Ryuka said.

“For what? You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“God, you humans are an enigma,” Ryuka rubbed her head, “You got all mopey suddenly, so I thought it was my fault.”

“No, just thinking about Stacy. Can’t you read my mind anyway?”

“Not when you start blocking it,” Ryuka shrugged.

“Good to know.”

“Why don’t you try calling her? I’m sure she wants to see you.”

“I can’t,” Carmen said and glanced down the route she’d normally take to Soothe the Soul. It was likely a development sight by then, devoid of the cosiness she’d come to appreciate and long for, “I bet there’s some stupid contract that means she can’t interact with me or something. Besides, I was just an employee. She’ll move on.”

“Okay, stop. You’re gonna make me depressed.”

“Can Seikogami even get depressed?” Carmen asked.

“We’re gonna find out at this rate. So, tell me when you’re going to indulge yourself,” Ryuka said, leering at her.

“You really think I’ll tell you?”

“Come on, I know all the best techniques. With me coaching, you’ll be cumming buckets in no time.”

“I’m not telling you,” Carmen shook her head, smiling at her godly companion, “But if I suck at it, then I’ll let you know.”

“Sucking? Oh, that’s perfect. Best of both worlds. You get a blowjob, and you give a blowjob. Win-win.”



Back in the hotel, she found her mother jiggling a key and grinning ear to ear. Melody was already there, slamming her new clothes and toys into a suitcase.

“We’ve got a house!” Alicia announced, “Oh, it’s lovely. Smack in the middle of suburbia. Stable walls, an honest to god kitchen, rooms for everyone and a guest room to boot, and it’s just a short drive from your schools. Which reminds me, we need to get you lessons. And a car. Oh! Something nice and cosy would be perfect. Although, maybe not.”

“Calm down, Mum,” Carmen chuckled and inspected her own garments. She’d expected this and had kept her belongings in neat piles for easy packing, “We’ve got plenty of time for all that.” She frowned at a bra, bought at the insistence of her mother. Seeing its size compared to that of Alicia’s made it clear how endowed Carmen had become, yet something made it feel incompetent. A sigh slipped out at the thought of further growth.

Not that anyone seemed bothered by it. The fact she grew several cup sizes in just a few months should be cause for concern, and leave her with stretch marks, yet no such issue arose. More meddling from the book. It hadn’t changed memories, none that Carmen could discern, otherwise Alicia should know about her penis.

“Sorry, it’s just so exciting. We haven’t had a house since your father passed,” Alicia said, joining Carmen on a bed, smiling at a memory, “He’d be proud, you know? Of you and Melody. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you got through it.”

“Don’t count yourself out,” Carmen leaned into her mother’s shoulder, “We never would’ve survived without you.”

“True, true. Either way, it’s in the past now. The future’s wide open for us now.”

“Yeah,” Carmen glanced at Ryuka, wondering how long it might take before temptation got the better of her as it almost had just a short while ago, or before she wound up resembling the deity. She shook the thoughts off. Before she could worry about that, the Futa Note had secrets she needed to discover. Or at least nuances she wanted control over. Summer provided a great chance for that.

First, she had ‘graduation’ to attend. Like the school itself, the ceremony was drab, greys on grey amidst a sea of disgruntled students. Principal Blake had instituted a fee for any graduate that didn’t attend the prep year, many of the girls’ families didn’t have money to spare, and so few pupils were absent. Carmen sat in a row of her friends, waiting for the mockery to end.

“Can’t believe this shit,” Mary grumbled, tugging at the cheap gown they’d been provided. It was second-hand from another school, and still bore the emblem. Most had mismatched sizes, which somehow found their way into the worst matches. Zoey’s was too small, or perhaps she was too tall, and failed to reach beyond her knees.

Mary had a similar issue in her chest, which bulged through like she’d stuffed a pair of balloons into the gown. The constriction kept them from finding a proper shape, and squeezed them through the neck. Likewise, her hips pulled the lower half flush against her skin. It rode up her thigh to reveal a glimpse of flesh at every opportunity. A slight reprieve from the burn in her most of her skin.

“Do you just have to be half-naked all the time?” Dakota asked.

“Yes!” Mary hissed, “Don’t know what it is, but I break out in hives if I cover too much. How much fucking longer?”

“I’ve got some cream if that’ll help?” Ashley offered. Her gown fit well, tantalisingly snug around her curves, but loose enough that her erection wouldn’t give her away. No one else knew what she hid, and she was eager to keep it that way.

“No, ugh, just… fuck it,” Mary hooked her fingers into the fabric and strained. Cheap polyester and cotton split open down her front, revealing a fountain of cleavage, “Oh, god that’s better.” She did the same for her legs, leaving just enough not to bare her phallus to everyone.

“Oh, fuck,” Ashley whispered, enraptured by the display.

“Shameless as always,” Zoey said, with a playful shake of her head, then fell into quiet. She’d been doing so more often recently, as if distracted by something. Her eyes went to the opposite columns, where family members were sat. Carmen followed the direction and saw someone that resembled Zoey, slightly older, though she lacked the same physicality. A wink passed between the sisters.

Carmen withheld her words. If Zoey wanted to talk about it, then she would. She wasn’t that meek girl like before, and she hadn’t shrunk for weeks. A faint groan wrested Carmen’s attention back to Ashley, who had a hand clenched tight in her gown, while the other circled a breast in slow, building motions. Each cycle made the cloth bulge further, stretching it until every wrinkle was smooth.

Teachers were still absent and likely would be for several minutes to come. While a memorable graduation, farce or not, would be welcome in such a shoddy ceremony, she doubted Ashley revealing herself as a futa was the way to do that. Carmen wondered how the girl had held out for as long as she had, even if she only came once every day. Over two weeks and Ashley hadn’t returned to that cum-addicted state. Impressive.

But it was taking a toll. Ashley’s plump cheeks burned, stark against the pale skin and dark lips, and her mouth opened in lingering gasps. If left unchecked, her orgasm was imminent. Carmen bit her lip and glanced around, then took Ashley’s hand, leading her from the atrium.

“What?” Ashley said once they were in a secluded hallway. The brief walk took its toll, rubbing her hardening body parts against her thighs and clothes. Carmen glimpsed them and forced the surge of heat back down. This was for Ashley, the least she could do after taking the girl’s wealth and sexuality. However, the sense of anticipation wouldn’t be quelled.

The gothic style suited Ashley. She’d dyed her hair an oil black and used a thicker eye liner as well. Beneath her gown, she wore a sheer blouse that bore several inches of cleavage, and no bra. The amount of jiggle on her chest made no secret of that.

“How bad is it?” Carmen asked when she forced her eyes away. Her own member stirred in her panties.

“How bad is… oh, it’s fine,” Ashley said, though she squeaked as her trio lurched forward, “Or maybe not. To be honest, hmm, I’ve been struggling to sleep lately.”

“It’s not good to keep yourself backed up. You’ll end up like you did before,” Carmen said. She’d tweaked Ashley’s entry as a small test, stretching the length of time she could go without cumming before it became troublesome, “When was the last time you, uh…”

“Um, two days I think? It’s Friday now, and that was Wednesday, so yeah. Two days.” Perhaps another hour and she’d be left helpless, erect and incapable of cumming without excessive masturbation. Or Carmen’s helping hand. Even in the seconds they’d stood there, Ashley’s breasts had swollen with backed up semen. Too much more and she’d lose sensitivity and start leaking.

“Okay, okay…” Carmen looked to her new watch. They had five, maybe ten minutes until the ceremony started. At her stage, Ashley might end up cumming several times if she did it herself, and she doubted the futa wanted Gretchen spreading more rumours. Everyone already believed that Ashley was gay, as was the norm among her friends. Too long, however, and people would start talking about Carmen. She couldn’t bear it if that was how her mother found out.

“Let’s make this quick,” Carmen said and yanked up Ashley’s gown. As if signalled, the plump girl’s cock leapt from beneath the skirt, “Shit…” she’d forgotten how big it was. Not the size of Zoey’s, but fatter, lined by angry veins and capped by a smaller head. She couldn’t fit a hand around its middle, even two were forced to stretch. A twinge of fear almost pulled her back. She hadn’t meant to touch it, let alone stroke or squeeze it.

Ashley sighed at her touch, leaning into the wall and undulating her hips. Her gasps turned to pleasure, building with every lap of Carmen’s hands until she was moaning.

“More. Please, Carmen?” Ashley blushed and pulled her gown higher, revealing her straining top. She pulled the front down and shuddered at the slap of her freed tits, upon which two stout cocks jutted forth. Milky pre-cum already leaked from them. Without them, Carmen wouldn’t hesitate. Even so, she struggled not to latch on the instant she saw them.

One hand abandoned the prime member and groped a breast. They gave under her ministrations, firming as she satiated one of her favourite pastimes. She and Stacy had cuddled in her office on several occasions, just feeling each other’s breasts. Carmen’s throat went dry. It always ended with her suckling from Stacy, syphoning the pent up milk into her clamouring gut. She missed the feeling of a warm teat spurting in her mouth.

Like before, she didn’t realise she’d moved until it happened. Ashley mewled above her, hands on her face as if in disbelief of what she saw. And what she saw was Carmen, bowed over to reach her breast, lips puckered and cheeks convex as she suckled a dick-nipple. She switched hands to grope the other boob, stimulating all three of Ashley’s cocks.

“Fuck, oh god! It never, ah!” Ashley clapped a hand over her mouth at the sound of footsteps, yet her chest rumbled with moans and squeaks escaped. Carmen didn’t stop, glugging down pre-cum that tasted of milk. The steps came closer.

Cum, cum, cum, cum. Carmen urged in her head, glancing to either side in case the stranger appeared. Power sparked in her gut and raced through her body, to her hands and lips. A moment later and Ashley’s moans stopped. Her eyes rolled and drool oozed down her chin and over her hands. Tremors ran through her cocks. The veins bloated and throbbed. A lurid gurgle echoed between Ashley’s tits and balls.

“Cumming…” Ashley whispered, before her hands fell away and she prepared to scream her bliss for all to hear. The person was too close. They’d hear. Carmen popped free and claimed Ashley’s lips, willing the girl not to scream. It worked somehow. Ashley’s throat strained and her cocks all unleashed jets of cum across the floor, yet not a single cry escaped her. She gargled instead, tongue moving as if to speak, but nothing came.

Carmen ignored each spurt of semen on her gown, too worried about being discovered to care for the moment. As the climax dwindled, Ashley’s mind returned and she started kissing her. On reflex, for it had to be, Carmen reciprocated. She fell into the moment, almost feeding off Ashley’s afterglow through the kiss. The footsteps faded away.

“We’re clear,” Carmen said when she separated.

“Y-yeah,” Ashley panted, her face redder than before. Sweat had formed along her scalp and dripped between her breasts. Carmen averted her gaze.

“You should go clean up. There’s still about five minutes left… five minutes?” Carmen had intended for it to be quick, but she hadn’t realised how fast she could make Ashley cum. She dared a glance, wondering if she could do so again. Just one orgasm had put Ashley wholly under her power, what would two or three do?

“Uh huh,” Ashley nodded and put her clothes back into place, though they looked lopsided it would suffice for now. Once she was out of sight, Carmen looked to her own problem.

“Dammit, everyone will know.”

“I can help there,” Ryuka said, eliciting a sharp yelp, “I wasn’t watching, honest.”

Carmen thinned her eyes, “You were in my head, weren’t you?”

The deity shrugged, “Maybe. You’ll never know.” I totally was though. The thought came through clearly, as if Ryuka had said the words into Carmen’s ear. Oh man, that was great. Shame she didn’t go further, like deepthroating the big one, or gobbling up the two nipples, ooh that’d be… Carmen shut out the words and focused on her predicament.

Kissing Ashley had been a mistake, as it put her body in the direct path of her seed. The fabric didn’t absorb moisture well and left thick streaks of white, all oozing down her form and leaving gross trails in their wake.

“What’s your plan?” Carmen asked, ignoring what she’d heard.

“Simple, I can make all that disappear with a snap of my fingers, but…” She paused, waiting for a prompt that never came, “You’re no fun. But you’ve gotta do something for me.”

“I’ll get you some oranges, don’t worry.”

“No, no, I had a sack of those before I got here. I want you to use the damn book at least one more time.”

“Fine,” Carmen said.

Ryuka blinked at the fast response, “Uh, well… alright then.” She snapped her fingers and every trace of cum was gone, even the odour, “Go on. Do it.”

Carmen shook her head at the Seikogami, heading back to the gym, “You really should work on your bargaining skills. You never said when I’d have to use it. I could wait until I’m old and grey.”

“Damn you,” Ryuka said.

“But I’m not that cruel,” Carmen said through their link as she returned to her seat. A minute later and Ashley followed suite, “I don’t want to be afraid of it, so I’m gonna understand it. The more I know, the less I have to worry about.”

“Oh? Who’re you gonna use it on? Gretchen? The principal? Maybe your friends again?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll see.”

“Can’t wait.”


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 26 - Darkening Temptations

It finally stopped. Carmen leaned into the shower spray, glad to feel something clean as she panted, hand still wrapped around her shaft. Not far away, Ryuka snickered. She couldn’t see past the curtain, but that didn’t stop her from peering into Carmen’s mind, and seeing the last drop of white fall from her penis. Obscured, her snatch dripped with its own orgasm. How many did that make?

“Five since you woke up,” Ryuka said.

“Don’t… please don’t answer my thoughts,” Carmen sighed. A month ago and she could keep her thoughts hidden, but it got harder everyday until the link seemed permanently open. Ryuka’s limitless libido dripped into her mind. Day and night. Now she woke every morning, terrified that her mother or Melody would walk in and see her morning wood. Even thinking of such a thing seemed wrong, yet she liked it.

She liked the feeling of stroking herself until pleasure erupted in the form of white steaks across the bathroom floor. Or over her bed. Or carpet. Or herself. She liked the smell it left behind. She savoured the sensations that lingered each time. No amount of willpower or self-loathing surmounted that pleasure. Though it left her hollow.

Carmen refocused on her actual goal of showering. Soap poured down her body, following the strict arches and dips in her figure, before plummeting to the sullied floor below. Sharp citrus tones washed away the stench of semen, as it had done the past two weeks. It was inevitable that she masturbated in the shower. One look in the mirror or down at herself and she was helpless.

“I’m such a narcissist now,” Carmen said when she stepped out, not bothering with a towel while she traced her outrageous, yet comparatively petite form. Ryuka hovered behind her, smirking like an approving teacher or angel. She almost laughed at the idea. This creature was no angel, fallen or otherwise.

“Is that a bad thing? Humans always have problems with self-love,” Ryuka said.

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t get turned on just by looking at myself.” A twinge brought Carmen’s attention to her member, spent but willing if she gave it the chance. For a ‘normal’ member, it had grown impressively masculine. Fat and veiny, with a darker tone to the rest of her, and heavy upon her testicles, it stood at harmonic dissonance to the rest of her.

“I do all the time,” Ryuka said.

“Exactly,” Carmen sighed and pulled a towel around herself. Loosely. Seeing her breasts bulging over anything, be it clothes or hands, was a death trap. A frequent one. Whatever magic the book wreaked on her life, it changed her wardrobe to match, but barely. Her shirts clung to her torso like paint at best, those that didn’t bit into, and highlighted, her abundance of flesh. The hips were no better.

She ran a brush through her hair. It reached the small of her back when loose, smooth as silk, and teetered on black. Sunlight brought the faint brunette that remained. For how much longer? Carmen let some locks fall through her fingers. Not a strand fell out.

“Gonna complain about the hair now?” Ryuka asked.

“No. I appreciate this much. But do I really need, what is it now, I-cup breasts?”

“Haha, you cup boobs.”

Carmen rolled her eyes, “And these jeans are… Jesus I can’t be that big. Am I?” She checked her hips again, grimacing at how they threatened to overtake her shoulders, “Maybe I should cut back on the snacks?”

“No, darling. You look great,” Ryuka said, coming to envelop her in a soft embrace. Strangely, that had become their relationship of late. Sometimes, she caught her mother’s worrying glances at her breasts and knew she thought they were too big. Melody even made fun of them, but made up for it with a firm hug. Random strangers gawked at her on the street, and her friends all adored her. Only Ryuka treated her the same as ever.

“I feel fat,” Carmen groaned and pinched the softness of her ass, “See? No muscle at all.”

“You know,” Ryuka said, her voice layered in seduction, “You could always use the book and fix all that.”

“I’m not using it on myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuka sighed, “Didn’t you say that you wanted to test it out? It’s been ages since then.”

“Only a month.”

“Only a month?! Oh god, I’m gonna turn to dust before you use it again.”

“Can you even die? You’re some sort of god after all.”

“All things end. Be it this minute, or next millennium. For all you or I know, I could vanish without a trace in five… four… three… two… one…” The Seikogami exaggerated choking and plummeted to the ground, twitching and retching.

“Tell you what,” Carmen said and retrieved the Futa Note from her desk, “I’ll take it with me. If the urge strikes, I’ll use it.”

Ryuka’s hand peeked over with her thumb up, “Good enough!”

A short bus ride later and Carmen was reunited with her friends outside the nearest mall. Not much had changed since ‘graduation’. Mary’s breasts had bloated to take the title of biggest among them, though Zoey and Ashley stayed hot on her tail. Zoey had risen a few inches, her musculature more defined, as was the bulge in her pants, and Ashley looked fine after yesterdays session. As always, Dakota remained unchanged beyond the mundane.

“So, where’re we going?” Carmen asked.

“Clothes shopping!” Mary declared and marched to her, casting a disapproving glare over her body, “You really need to upgrade.”

“Why?” Carmen looked as well but found nothing wrong. None of her clothes were second-hand anymore. No holes or stains or mismatched sizes. Even if she bought something larger, the Futa Note changed it. Almost like the book enjoyed seeing her trapped in tight outfits. Unless Ryuka was responsible.

Mary arched an eyebrow and looked at the rest, “Is she serious? Carmen, baby, you’re rich! You can wear nicer shit than this.”

“It’s not really my thing.”

“No, but it’s mine,” Mary smirked, “We’re going to play dress-up with our favourite girl today.”

“Do I get a say?”

“You just did,” Dakota grinned, “I’ll reign her in, don’t worry.”

“Good. Then let’s fucking go,” Mary said and headed straight inside. The others lingered and shook their heads, shrugged, then followed. Despite Mary strong-arming her into the trip, Carmen appreciated being around them all again. She met Ashley every week to keep her from overloading, which she realised didn’t help her own libido, but it’d been weeks since she saw the others.

“How’s your summer so far?” Dakota asked.

“Busy. I’m helping find Melody a new school, settling in a new home, and keeping up with studies. Haven’t really had a chance to enjoy myself,” Carmen lied. She felt like she’d done nothing but enjoy herself.

“You really need to relax. Take me for example,” Dakota cleared her throat, “I’ve been exploring the vast seas, discovering things man never knew of and…”

“You’ve just been playing video games,” Zoey cut in, smirking.

“Yeah,” Dakota deflated, then looked to Ashley, “How are you doing anyway? Must be weird not being the rich girl anymore.”

“Actually, I like it,” Ashley said, “My parents and I are going camping next week. Well, we’re renting an RV, but close enough I guess. And mum’s getting better at cooking too.”

“Hey Zoey.”

Carmen followed the Amazon’s gaze around to find Rachel strolling behind. Suspicion pulled her muscles taut. She looked around for Gretchen, certain she couldn’t be far.

“Rachel? Uh, what’re you doing here?” Zoey asked.

“Visiting my sister at work. What about you?” Rachel’s eyes diverted from Zoey to Carmen, fixed upon her like cat watching its prey, “Bet it’s something interesting.”

“Just some shopping,” Carmen answered.

“Where’s Gretchen?” Ashley asked. She drew back behind Carmen, watching for a sign of the contemptuous blonde.

“Dunno, don’t care,” Rachel still kept her gaze on Carmen. It wasn’t the look of a predator, Carmen thought, more observant. Was she waiting for something? “I’ll see you later, Zoey.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zoey waved goodbye. The redhead soon vacated the mall.

“What was that about?” Dakota wondered. Carmen shrugged and continued after Mary, though she couldn’t ignore the look in Rachel’s eye. It was familiar. Expectation? Anxiety? Both? But she had no reason to feel either. Unless she suspected something. Carmen gripped the strap of her bag and pulled it closer.

“Hurry up!” Mary called from a clothes store, snapping Carmen from her thoughts.

They skipped over the normal, cheap outfits and headed straight for the expensive section. Silk and velvet met more traditional fabrics in a cordoned off room, dozens of garments hung or folded on hooks and shelves, crowded around as if to outdo each other. A lone changing room hid amongst dresses. Familiar items were stashed away in a corner. Carmen recognised them from Gretchen. She glanced at Ashley, who seemed at ease amongst the financial hell. Mary wasted no time in sorting through her choices.

Only Zoey seemed uncomfortable, so Carmen retreated back to her. The other three convened over various shirts and dresses in hushed whispers, each arguing for something they held. They somehow agreed on one and put the others back, then it began anew, cycling from one choice to the next. Dread filled Carmen as more were added.

“I’m just gonna slip out,” Carmen whispered, backing out through the curtain.

“They won’t notice until they’re done. I’ll text you when it’s time,” Zoey said and moved to conceal her exit.

“You make it sound like I don’t have a choice.”

“You really don’t,” Zoey said with an apologetic smile. One foot outside and Carmen relaxed, gulping down grateful breaths untainted by the designer scents and crushing weight. She strolled down an aisle of hoodies and long-sleeved shirts, wondering which, if any, would mask her ever swelling figure. She wore the largest top she owned outside of winter attire, yet it struggled not to float around her waist. A cute shirt caught her eye, one Melody would like. The outing wasn’t a total waste.

“Carmen?” Someone gasped her name. The voice was so familiar. She turned, expecting an acquaintance or one of her friends, and caught their frantic retreat, then rushed over to see who it was. Regret twisted inside her chest, coiling and choking her.

She didn’t turn or speak, just stood at a counter, nervously tapping a foot as she paid. Chocolate curls rolled down her back and over her shoulders, flicking off breasts so voluptuous that Carmen saw them from behind. As she shifted weight, her indulgent ass cheeks rose and fell. Her shirt lifted, revealing that her jeans didn’t reach very far. Fat rounded her thighs and calves. Please don’t be her, Carmen thought.

But it was. As the woman turned, Carmen saw the faint dampness on her breasts. Any other time, on anyone else, she might’ve struggled with her arousal. Not here. Carmen knew her and that fact shredded any semblance of lust. She felt cold, frozen half-hidden behind a rack of clothes, while Stacy hurried out. Her curves jiggled and rolled with her hasty movements, making her look clumsy. Just as they always had when she rushed from back to front at the shop.

Carmen’s phone summoned her attention. When she looked up, Stacy was gone. She could make her turn around and come back, hug her, kiss her, tell her how sorry she was for not calling and that they’d be together again. Another text. ‘Ashley picked out something really cute. Hurry back.’ Ashley. Anger replaced sorrow. After what she’d done, she didn’t deserve to be with them, having fun and… Carmen took a breath and turned around. Getting mad wouldn’t change a thing. Not like Stacy would want her now that she had a cock.

“Are you doing okay?” Dakota asked once she returned.

“Yeah, fine. Why?” Carmen said.

“You look down. Did something happen?”

“No. What did you guys pick out anyway?” Carmen asked, fixing her gaze on the hideous stack of clothes, “Half the store?”

“Please, I wanted more, but they convinced me not to,” Mary said and handed her the top, “I picked it out. I guarantee it’ll bring out your tits.”

“Not like she needs it,” Ashley added.

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta own them. Big boobs are amazing if you do right by them,” Mary hefted her monumental bust for emphasis. Close to a foot of cleavage blossomed from her top, the Futa Note keeping her from showing anything but. Stacy’s are bigger, Carmen thought. She went into the changing room, using the door as a shield. A mirror, bench and pile of clothes accompanied her.

She sat down, running hands through her hair. The clothes meant nothing. Her reflection might as well have been a plank. Harsh breaths filled her chest, strained her bra, and settled her rampant heart, but not her emotions. Every other thought opened another wound, ones she’d hoped were scarred over. The first time she met Stacy, their gradual flirting, their kiss, the first time they made love. Everything hurt.

That didn’t give her the right to bring down the mood. Carmen took a final deep breath, pinched herself to stop the tears from coming, and stripped. Nothing Mary or the others picked out worked, in her opinion, but she found a couple that seemed acceptable. They didn’t make her look like a cheating trophy wife, or some high school slut at least. Back in her plain clothes, Carmen pulled her lips into an exhausted smile, and went back out.

“I knew you’d like some of them,” Mary said, beaming from ear to ear.

“Two out of a hundred,” Carmen groaned.

“Sorry, I thought you’d like more,” Ashley said.

“It’s okay,” Carmen said. Anger flashed once more, but faded just as fast. It was Gretchen’s fault. Or was it Rachel’s? The way she had looked at Carmen, expecting something to happen, made sense if she thought of it that way. But that didn’t explain why she looked almost worried by it. Even at her worst, Carmen wouldn’t assault someone in public.

“Come on, let’s pay and get some lunch. I know an awesome diner upstairs,” Dakota said.

Heartbreakingly welcoming. That was how the diner felt. Warm colours and a row of leather-lined booths, its air saturated with the smell of simple meals, coffee and confections, all held together by a team of young servers. Better equipment and staffing aside, it reminded Carmen of Soothe the Soul. Even one of the waitresses was overweight in a cute way. Her hair was a brilliant red at least, and she didn’t hold a candle to Stacy elsewhere.

“Hi, I’m Leah and I’ll be your waitress,” the chubby server said, assigning them a booth.

Zoey sat on the outside next to Carmen, so tall that she could lean back over the dividers, while the other three sat opposite. Ashley and Mary sat either side of Dakota, their chests either knocking salt shakers or squishing against the table, and earned jealous glances from her and other customers. Resting her own ponderous bust on the table, Carmen wondered what people thought of them. Anyone could assume they were the product of wealth and plastic surgery. Yet it was never long before someone made it clear that they were natural.

“What can I get you to drink?” Leah asked, retrieving a notepad from her pencil skirt. Old fashioned, but it suited the diner, and the blouse did wonders for Leah’s chest. She shifted her weight and the mounds jiggled, unrestricted despite their heft. She leaned against the divider between booths, squishing her breast into an arm, as if sustaining her own weight was too much effort.

“Don’t you have a bra?” Carmen asked.

“Oh, noticed that did you?” Leah giggled, “I do, but they’re so uncomfortable. Besides, no one complains. Until now.”

“Who said she was complaining?” Zoey said, though her focus was on the menu. Her shoulders were rigid, back straight and legs tight together. None of the others had that problem. They devoured Leah’s figure, before comparing it to Carmen’s and found it wanting.

“Oh, you’re like that,” Leah said and grinned, leaning down and giving a scrumptious view of her cleavage, “I’ve always wanted to experiment. Is it as good as I’ve heard?”

“Depends,” Carmen said, fascinated by how just the slightest breath disturbed the otherwise dormant flesh. Not as soft as Stacy’s. The thought conjured both girls, side by side and naked, comparing their tits for Carmen’s amusement. Stacy had the win, of course. She’d never admit it, but drinking from her, feeling hot milk spraying her skin, turned Carmen on. If only this girl did too. The twitch of her member snapped Carmen’s attention. Not here. Anywhere but public.

“I suppose. Love and all that, right? Oh well. Ready to order?”

Everyone did. Carmen’s penis throbbed against its prison, hijacking her muscles so she flexed it, bringing pleasure. Just a hint of the bliss from earlier. She pleaded for it to calm down, but instead fed the arousal by watching Leah leave. The skirt was too short for her, stretched out and at its limit. A pair of tights tried making up for the lack of length, but only highlighted her legs. Carmen caught sight of a garter of all things, which squeezed her thigh flesh.

“She’s lovely,” Ryuka said from behind. The Seikogami reclined on the divider between booths, cock hanging freely over Zoey’s shoulder, and breasts within reach of Carmen’s mouth.

“Y-yeah,” Carmen nodded.

“Hmm, I’d wager she’s the docile type. Happy to sit back and let things happen.”

“Please don’t,” Carmen said under her breath. Warmth flowed through her cheeks down into the rest of her. The tight shirt became stifling and the bra constricted her. She wished she wore a button-up.

“Something wrong?” Ryuka teased and dragged a finger along Carmen’s cheek, before flipping herself so they came face to beautiful, seductive face. Carmen looked away, but that brought her gaze to Zoey’s chest, pronounced and duplicit against her incredible strength. In the same view was Mary’s, semi-spherical from the implants still inside her. A glance away brought her to Ashley, plump and natural and heavy to hold.

“Here you are,” Leah announced her return, setting down drinks before them. Her arm brushed Ryuka’s draping breast, but paid it no mind, instead she was focused on Carmen, “Are you alright? Your face is red.”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Leah leaned in again. Was she unaware how close her tits were to the table? Carmen tore her eyes away and looked at her face, somehow familiar to her. The eyes, nose and mouth all toyed with a recent memory, but her libido refused all access.

“I, uh, need the bathroom.” Carmen scooted past Zoey, hunched to hide any possible bulge in her pants, and rushed for the nearest restroom. It had a lock to her relief. She snapped it shut and collapsed against the first sink in reach. Her cock twitched, its every movement another spike of want, hooking into her discipline and pulling it thin as a sheet, allowing sweet promises of pleasure to sift through. But she couldn’t masturbate in a public restroom. Someone would find out.

“Not if you hide the evidence,” Ryuka said, “Besides, who’d care about someone coming in and jerking off? I’ve heard of grosser things you humans do in the toilets. Like defecation, ugh. Why can’t you people just fuck your assholes? So weird.”

Carmen didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she laughed. The entire day had been absurd. From her record number of orgasms in the morning, to Rachel’s suspicious behaviour… That’s where she knew Leah from! The similarities were too close to be mere coincidence. That was Rachel’s family, probably a sister.

“Yet they’re such opposites,” Ryuka said, “Oh, I felt that flicker of rage. What if Rachel was more involved than you thought? She might’ve been the one that got your mother fired, forced your hand to the Futa Note, and burned down Stacy’s lovely shop.”

“No,” Carmen breathed. She needed to calm down. Her bag was still on her shoulder, like the book prevented her from leaving it behind, “Everything turned out for the best anyway.”

“But you’re alone. Miserable,” Ryuka nudged Carmen’s head up and cradled it, stroking her cheeks, “I know you miss her. It’s only fair that you take something in return.”

“This isn’t something. It’s someone,” Carmen said, rasping for air now. She felt hotter than ever, ready to tear away her clothes. Trickles of sweat carved paths down her cheek, “What’re you doing?”

“Giving you a little push,” Ryuka said, “You’re immune to my aura. That’s impressive, but what about the Touch?”

“Another Seikogami thing?” Carmen asked. She could move away, stop Ryuka from touching her, but she found herself holding the deities hand. Pleasure was better than sadness. She’d spent years fixated on a single goal of helping her family, leaving no time to acknowledge her other emotions. Now they all took tentative steps back into her psyche, and sorrow was at the forefront, built up after denying it for so long. A hideous shadow twisting itself into grosser forms every second.

“It’s a condensed form of our aura. If I wanted, I could keep you turned on 24/7. You should really thank me for not doing that. Even when you were being so boring.”

Carmen hated feeling weak. Losing her father, losing Stacy, and now she was losing the fight against her own desires. She needed control. Ryuka’s hand streamed down her body, into her bag and pulled the Futa Note free. Limitless power held within something no bigger than a normal notebook. She shook her at the ridiculous reality she found herself in.

“Write her name,” Ryuka said, “Make her do what you want. It’s the least that Rachel owes you.”

“How about I write your name?” Carmen asked and chuckled, “No, I guess that wouldn’t have any affect on you. You’re a god after all.” She took the book and relaxed, like an addict finally getting a fix, if only a small one. The rest would come, all she needed was to write Leah’s name. Arousal bombarded and infiltrated her mind, symptoms of her withdrawal. It worried her, how the book seemed just like an addiction, worsening with every use. She had to put it down. Once she did, she could masturbate and put this behind her. Ignore it for the rest of her life.

“You want to understand what it can do, isn’t that what you said before?” Ryuka said, “If you don’t understand it, you’ll always be afraid. You can’t control what you don’t know.”

She was right. Addictive or not, she couldn’t exert control over something so unknown. The void in her knowledge meant temptation, and that would eventually lead her back to it. Who could say she wouldn’t use it on someone innocent, just to experiment. Leah was at least related to a guilty party. But why not write Rachel’s name? That would isolate Gretchen further. But she could be miles away. Her cock lurched for freedom, somehow worming its way from her underwear. Leah was practically outside the door.

Blank lines glared at her. Ryuka’s breath wailed in her ear, a siren’s song to her frayed nerves, and her hands kept moving. Fingertips flowed along skin, enticing pleasure from her. The ‘Touch’ negated all control. Her cock spasmed and strained her pants, bulging along the leg in desperation for freedom. Or to be held somewhere else.

“Why don’t you just get me off?” Carmen asked, grimacing at how crude she sounded. Her hand glided to her belt, unbuckled it and pushed her pants down, then Ryuka grabbed it.

“Much as I’d love that, I think you want something else a little more.”

Carmen stood there, panting and staring at the goddess, jeans halfway down her hips. The slight discolouration to her cock peered over the waist, veins engorged at the chance of release. Cool air slivered into her clothes from the AC, icy compared to Ryuka’s warmth. She glanced away from the blazing eyes and saw her reflection. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Eventually, someone would wander where she went, and she’d be frozen in place. She’d be trapped between jerking herself, or stealing someone else’s mind for the purpose.

“She’s so close to your perfect girl,” Ryuka said, bringing both her hands to Carmen’s breasts. Even the Seikogami’s hands just managed to contain them. One found her hooks and unhinged them, before sliding under her shirt to grope the naked, sensitive flesh, “Just a few changes. That’s all. I know you like milk, give her some great udders, plump up that ass and give her a fat, juicy cock. Make her your personal cow.”

“She’s a person,” Carmen whispered.

“You’ve seen how she moves, how she looks. Tell me that’s not someone that likes laying around, enjoying the simpler things in life.” Ryuka had a point. The way Leah moved made it clear she wanted life to be easy as possible. She took the shortcuts, leaned against whatever she could, even forewent something as simple as a bra because it felt better without one. Anything Carmen wrote wouldn’t impact her life.

“Just imagine having huge, milky tits wrapped around your cock, or feeling up her ass while you’re balls-deep inside her. Her belly could be a perfect cushion for you while you drink her bounty. Even if that’s not your thing, you can still have some fun, watching her grow into a cow. Until then, why not indulge yourself? Blowjobs are way better than hands, I can tell you.”

Ryuka released her tits and swivelled around to stare at their reflection, “Or you could write your own name. Become whatever you want to be. If that’s someone like me, then go for it. You’d make a great Seikogami, Carmen.”

“I don’t think so,” Carmen said and looked to the book, immediately finding the blank lines underneath her previous entries, few as they were, “Even if I try masturbating, you’ll just stop me.”

“The hard way is a lot more enjoyable, I find,” Ryuka said. Carmen took a pen from her bag, picturing Leah’s already buxom figure. The book had power beyond understanding. For now, she needed to cum and calm down. Then she could experiment, and Leah seemed not to have much of a life. Changing her would mean nothing. Except pleasure.

Paper met her pen. Too late now, she thought even before she wrote the first letter.


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 27 - Sample of Pleasure

The wait exasperated everything. Carmen’s sharp and heavy breaths, the thudding of her heartbeat in places she wished it wasn’t, and the rush of air on her skin all seemed too focused. She listened to the clamour of customers outside, footsteps passing to and from the door, always alert for the dreaded knock. And yet, in spite of that anxiety, her cock stood like a flag. She’d tried pinching herself, thinking of the least erotic things imaginable, but it wouldn’t soften.

Nearby, Ryuka giggled as she scoured the most recent entry of the Futa Note, “I’ve gotta say, you’ve really come a long way.”

“Please don’t,” Carmen said, wanting to ignore everything she’d written in there. She still didn’t believe her own mind, let alone her hands wrote something so awful. The stubborn memory had her throbbing harder than ever.

“Oh, don’t be so glum,” Ryuka teased and rolled onto her back, letting her breasts spill down her ribs. The nipple stared at Carmen, dark and ripe and tempting. She looked back, incapable of anything else, as white beaded on the tip, then broke and fell across the alabaster flesh, “Would a drink cheer you up?”

“If you’re just gonna tease me, then leave,” Carmen said through clenched teeth. The flow of milk increased, crashing to the floor in a pitiful puddle. Lust engulfed her veins in fire, but the reminder of Stacy chilled it, until other memories broke through. It all started with Stacy after all, or perhaps even before her. Because of her, Carmen’s cock lurched every time she imagined a pair of tits growing taut with milk. Oh, but they were beautiful. The nipples fattened into ripe cherries, ready to be suckled. And the taste, the feel of them.

Ryuka drew closer. She shifted to lean forward, boobs spilling over arms with the teats aimed at Carmen, practically gushing with milk. Just to look at them flirted with danger as spectres of Stacy’s taste made her drool. So sweet and warm, like a hug spreading throughout the body, while the nipple gushed between her teeth. Even the visage tempted her more than most. Heavy tits, tight as a drum with milk, and the darkened areolae fattening in preparation made her dick lurch.

The smell lured her in. The cold sink turned hot under her palms, her skin was clammy, trickles of sweat glistened on her skin. Drool escaped her lips. For a moment, even just a few seconds, Ryuka offered her a chance to forget everything. Carmen leaned in. Sex with a Seikogami must be indescribable. Once she experienced, she could let everything go. No more dread, or pride, or work.

A sharp knock shattered the thoughts.

“Hello?” Her eyes widened; it was Leah. A slight drawl identified her, as if her voice was also docile, “Someone said the door’s been locked for a while. Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, fine. Sorry.” Carmen tore her gaze from Ryuka’s tit, though she heard the dripping continue, and headed to the door. Her cock bounced with each step, but she didn’t bother pulling her clothes back into a presentable state. Once the door opened and Leah saw her, none of that would matter. Not a fool, Carmen stood out of sight as she opened the door. A moment later and Leah stepped in, her 50’s style skirt straining against her ass. Carmen locked the door again, enamoured with the figure.

“Hello?” Leah called, looking over the stalls.

“Behind you,” Carmen blurted and the newly-christened futa turned, revealing how her apron bulged at her crotch.

“Oh! Uh, hi,” Leah said, cheeks suddenly flush and eyes flickering across Carmen’s body, unable to decide where to look, “You… you too, huh?” She asked, nodding to the other futa’s crotch.

“Yeah,” Carmen said and bit her lip. Was she really about to go through with this? What she’d done before was punishment to people who wronged her and others, or needed help in Zoey’s case, but Leah had done nothing to her. Except give her an erection without realising it. How could anyone be so oblivious? She just flaunted her tits around not expecting an obvious lesbian to get turned on. And her reaction to growing a cock was lackadaisical at best, like it didn’t matter.

If sprouting a penis from nowhere was no big deal, then what was sucking someone else’s. Carmen took a breath. She was justified. Leah didn’t care, why should she? Besides, she thought as a line of drool broke on the plumper girl’s chin, she’s enamoured with it. Carmen stepped forward and watched Leah’s eyes follow the bounce of her cock, then stopped just out of arm’s reach.

“Well?” Carmen said and arched an eyebrow, before pulling her shirt off. The last vestige of decency was a bra, desperate to contain her breasts, that soon joined the rest in a pile. Several seconds ticked by in stillness. She worried that Leah had an aneurysm, but the futa quickly picked up the pace and untied her apron.

Self-image had never been a priority for Carmen. For years, she’d gladly let her health and hygiene dwindle, if only so Melody could thrive better. By no means would she ever have made it as a cheerleader or any sort of athlete, but the book changed that. Before even her curves developed as they had, she’d noticed the weight loss instantly. It just hadn’t mattered. It still didn’t.

But to know that just her body left someone dumbfounded was… euphoric. Perhaps the Futa Note was responsible for it, she had written it so Leah would be captivated by her, but that look of genuine lust couldn’t be faked. She’d seen it often enough on Ryuka and her friends’ faces to know it. She had all the power in the room, only by showing her body. Behind her balls, a dribble of moisture escaped Carmen’s pussy.

The thump of Leah’s clothes snapped her reverie. Carmen drank in the sight, pouring it onto her lust like gasoline on a fire. The redhead skirted the line of unseemly, with soft, chubby flesh abundant across her body, but especially in her chest and hips. Even her cock, the default size of fourteen inches, had a girth to it.

“Oh, I just love thicker women,” Ryuka said from above, and Carmen had to agree. Although a skinny woman with tits and ass cheeks the size of their head had a delicious dichotomy. She shook the thoughts off.

“So, uh, we’re gonna fuck, right?” Leah asked.

Now Carmen was left speechless. She just wanted to cum, and Ryuka wouldn’t help, or let her handle it on her own, she hadn’t considered anything further. Oh, it’d feel so good to slide her dick between that ass and into Leah’s… STOP! Carmen swallowed the extravagant lust. She only wanted to cum. A blowjob was more than enough. Blowjob? She could get by with just Leah’s hands so…

“Quit trying to hold back,” Ryuka said, floating over and draping her cock like a boa over Carmen’s shoulders, “You’re horny. She’s willing. Live a little, sweetheart. You deserve it.” She drifted away with a parting touch, imbued with her power. Carmen moaned and stumbled forward.

“N-no,” Carmen said, trying to regain herself, “But you’re going to make me cum, got it?” A shiver ran through Leah at her words, sending ripples across her voluptuous form. Her nipples hardened, already darker than a few seconds ago, a sign of the book taking full effect. She didn’t say anything, just waited, cock twitching in anticipation for Carmen’s next order. This wasn’t part of the transformation. Fascination and an urge to give her an orgasm, nothing more.

Did the book think making Leah submissive would help? Carmen chewed her lip, frustrated that she had to admit that it was right. She inhaled the musky air, so potent that she tasted echoes on her tongue, and really took Leah in. Not to admire her figure, or the way she seemed to present herself for Carmen, but to think of how best to climax from her. Long hair made for perfect handholds, but her tits would also work, maybe… Carmen chastised herself. This wasn’t the time.

Later? She didn’t answer her own thought, or she ignored the response, and focused. Just the mouth.

“On the ground,” Carmen said and gestured for Leah to fall. The fact she resembled a comic villain almost tore a snide laugh from her, if not for Leah’s instant response. She knelt before Carmen, legs spread to let her balls and pussy breathe, with her cock jutting out above them. She didn’t touch herself, only shook as Carmen stepped closer.

Trepidation taunted her lust as she leered down at the futa. Ryuka’s warmth grazed her back, a gentle push forward. From Carmen’s view, her cock obscured most of Leah’s face. The redhead had gone cross-eyed, trying to focus on it and nothing else. Carmen bent down to touch Leah’s hair, almost brushing her tits against the submissive futa, who took a sharp breath and opened her mouth. Gusts of air tingled against Carmen’s dick, urging a dollop of pre-cum to ooze out. It hung like a pendulum, swinging to her heartbeat, until it struck Leah’s tongue.

She licked it up and moaned, “Delicious.”

“Yeah? You want more?” Carmen asked, almost feeling it as her self-control slipped. Between Ryuka’s Touch and Leah’s meekness, her body didn’t help either, it was a miracle she’d held on for so long. Her fingers twined through Leah’s hair.

“Yes please. I want to drink more of your cock juice,” Leah slurred and stuck her tongue out, as if she were drunk on lust.

“Then work for it.” No sooner had Carmen said the words and given a slight tug, than Leah surged forth and swallowed the head. Before Carmen could process it, she pushed deeper and gagged, but didn’t move. The honour student gasped in place, staring at the gap between her crotch and Leah’s lips. About halfway, she noted and gave a slight push of her hips. Leah finally pulled away, leaving a swath of spit in her wake, though she stayed on the head. Her cheeks turned convex as she suckled on it.

“Oh… fuck…” Carmen relaxed. She kept a hand on Leah’s hair, while the other latched onto her own breast. The sensations weren’t as intense as having her pussy licked, but it was somehow soothing. Like a tender embrace compared to a French kiss. Her soft moans were all the praise Leah needed, as she started dragging her lips up and down the shaft. She always came back to suckle on the crown.

“Use your hands,” Carmen said and cooed at the embrace on her dick. Leah soon found a slow, even tempo. She stroked the whole length using her mouth and hands, uncaring of the saliva covering her palms. One hand was enough, so she switched the other to Carmen’s balls.

“No. Behind them,” Carmen moaned as her pussy was touched by another for the first time in months. She’d been too scared of Stacy’s reaction if she found her cock, and she didn’t dare let any of her friends pleasure her. Why? It felt good, and they’d be happy to. Her thoughts stumbled as Leah went to her limit again, breaching her throat until she couldn’t bear it. Don’t think, Carmen told herself and began rocking her hips. Just enjoy.

Ryuka was close by. Her heat never dissipated, so it came as no surprise when her hands found Carmen’s tits, expertly mauling them.

“Stop,” Carmen whispered, biting her lip. The Touch wasn’t active, but Ryuka’s experience was inhuman. Everywhere she squeezed, Carmen discovered a new point of pleasure. The god didn’t listen, instead she kissed the humans neck, leaving tiny nips behind.

“Don’t think,” Ryuka echoed her earlier thought, “Just enjoy.”

“R-right,” Carmen said and adjusted her grasp on Leah’s hair, before pulling, and thrusting into her. The redhead retched, she tried clenching her eyes shut, but a sharp pull stopped the behaviour. Green circles around dilated pupils glistened and stared at Carmen, not a trace of disdain or fear in them.

Two women were pleasuring her. One with curves just begging to snuggled against or watched as they jiggled, and the other with otherworldly beauty and sizes. Between them was Carmen. Was she still human? Maybe. Was she turning into a Seikogami? Maybe. She couldn’t think, didn’t want to. For that moment, until she had to end it and go back to reality, she existed as a stream of pleasure, guided by two riverbanks toward a greater ocean.

The closer she came, the harsher her movements. Carmen took the reins from Leah and thrust into her mouth, forcing her hands away. Moans and gags merged as the redhead was face-fucked, tongue hanging out and eyes watering. The honour student abandoned care and inhibition. She yanked on Leah’s hair, crammed every inch she could down her throat, while swinging her balls into the submissives chin. Faint layers of sweat came off with every slap of flesh.

Ryuka’s hands were never still. To Carmen’s right, the Seikogami’s monumental cock rose like a marble pillar, covered in ivy and ending in a bulbous head. Looking between it and her own was a miserable comparison, but size didn’t concern her. Pleasure was everything. She found her eyes reflected in Ryuka’s, clouded by lust. The kiss came without thought. The deity had no hand in it. Carmen pulled her in, moaned into her mouth, tasted and felt her tongue, of her own power.

Or she believed so. The world didn’t seem real, more like a dream-scape than a bathroom. Every nerve, vein and muscle crackled with desire, building energy to a breaking point, numbing her to anything but pleasure. Was that how Ryuka felt all the time? Perhaps it was just sex in general. She’d only felt close to such sensations with Stacy. But now, with her cock slamming into some girl’s throat, while said girl fingered her pussy and squeezed her ass, and a genuine goddess kissing her and toying with her body, she exceeded them.

Nothing seemed real. Even the increasingly brutal rhythm of her hips felt like another person’s, but she felt it all. And savoured it as her cock burrowed into Leah’s gullet, which clung to her like a living glove. For the brief moments she stayed, the walls pulsated and squeezed her, like a parting lover’s hug.

“I’m gonna cum,” Carmen said against Ryuka’s lips, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in someone’s mouth.”

Perhaps Leah heard her, because the redhead turned into a vacuum. She sucked and bobbed her head to the insane rhythm, not concerned by the spittle flying everywhere, or the abuse to her throat.

“She’s begging for it,” Ryuka said, sinking to watch the penetration up close, “Don’t be afraid to really give it to her. Go on, give her a belly load of your cum.”

“Make her cum too,” Carmen moaned, “I want her to cum from this.” She couldn’t be saying that. Not her. But it was her words; her thoughts manifested. She wanted to see Leah cum from being used like a cheap whore.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Ryuka said and giggled, stroking herself now. No matter how huge the deity seemed, her hands seemed puny against her cock, which surged between Carmen and Leah, almost connecting them with its girth alone, “She’s dripping from both ends. Go on, fuck her face like you’re gonna knock her up.”

“Knock her up…” Carmen practically tasted the words, their meaning filling her mind with Leah’s belly getting even larger, her tits swelling with milk on top of what she’d written, and throughout it all, her body at Carmen’s disposal, “No! Fuck, I’m cumming! Take it!”

As her balls cramped and her pussy clenched, Carmen tugged Leah to the base. The redhead moaned and shook with her throat stuffed full of cock. Her eyes widened as the first surge of Carmen’s seed surged through the shaft, before flooding her oesophagus. It came so hard and fast that it shot back up her airways and out her nostrils. She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth and nose were both full of cock and jizz.

Leah gurgled and her eyes rolled back. Hot ropes splashed Carmen’s feet. This futa, who had received nothing but abuse, was cumming for her. Carmen cupped her face, as if she’d tasted something divine, and found a smile on it. Not the usual grin of release she often had when cumming, but a deranged, lopsided smirk.

Beneath her, Ryuka also moaned, “Let me join in.” Carmen looked at her and saw the Seikogami’s cock had almost doubled in size, as had her testicles. Before she could say anything, Carmen was made audience to a climax like none other. In that the explosion she expected was absent. Ryuka groaned and thrust into her hands like she was cumming, yet nothing came out. Even the usual stream of pre-cum was absent.

“I can’t cum when I want in this world,” Ryuka later said, stroking her now flaccid member like a doting mother, “If I did, there’d be some serious flooding and questions.”

“What did you do then?” Carmen asked. She leaned on the sink again, taking the weight from her quaking legs. Leah hung on the cusp of unconsciousness, lying on her side with semen leaking from her mouth and cock. Her clothes were draped over her body, in case anyone walked in after Carmen left.

“I just came in my own world. Probably on someone, who knows,” Ryuka shrugged.


“Were you disappointed?”

“A little,” Carmen admitted, recalling how massive the Seikogami had become, “It was anti-climatic.”

Ryuka leaned down, looking into the reflection of Carmen’s eyes, “Well, next time, I won’t disappoint you.” She said, and kissed the humans cheek.

“Stop it,” Carmen shuffled over to her clothes, “I’m not like that.”

“Oh, of course,” Ryuka pouted.

“But… I’m not above a little ‘entertainment’,” Carmen added.


“I want to know more about the book. And, much as I hate to admit it, I liked this. If I just try ignoring the urge, it’ll get worse and worse, right? So, I’ll indulge a little here and there. But on my terms, got it? Don’t you dare use the Touch on me again,” Carmen said, glaring at her unreal companion.

“Hey, long as you provide the fun, I’ll happily leave you be. What next?” Ryuka asked, beaming with glee.

“We wait.”


“I want to see what she does first. Then I’ll come back,” Carmen said, glancing at the recent futa’s body, “And I might do this again.” With her clothes in place, hair and face presentable, she exited the bathroom. Almost half an hour later, Leah did the same, just as Carmen was leaving with her friends.

Back in her room, Carmen pondered the ceiling. She saw everything she’d done, her failure, on its blank canvas. Ethereal weight pushed on her chest at the thought, forcing her to roll over to try and get rid of it, but the pressure stayed. Her stomach felt empty despite the filling lunch. ‘You messed up’, those three words looped around and through her head. Any better thought was shut out, strangled before it could distract her.

“What’re you moping about now?” Ryuka asked.

“Nothing,” Carmen said, “Just thinking.” If she’d just been more resilient, then that entire scene wouldn’t have happened. Because she was helpless against Ryuka, and her own desires, she turned another girl into a futa. Now the thought didn’t worry her, but that was concerning all its own. What was one more? A dangerous thought, that persisted time and again. It’d get worse now, all because she’d used the book again.

“I can see into your head.”

“Shit,” Carmen groaned and pulled her legs in close, hugging them in lieu of her sister. Their mother was out with Melody, scouting new schools for the youngest Robins girl. It made the house seem empty, lonely.

“Why are you so concerned with failing anyway? Isn’t that how your race developed?” Ryuka came to perch on the bed, wings flapping irritably, “Besides, you didn’t mess up. I messed you up, remember?”

“For years, I’ve ignored everything for my sister,” Carmen said, not looking at the deity, “I didn’t care about my hormones, or what I looked like. I barely even masturbated. Now I can’t even go a day without it. I should be better than that. I am better than this.”

“Please!” Ryuka’s eye roll came through her voice, “Do you have any idea what another mortal would be like around me? They’d be lucky if they didn’t try nesting in my pussy after this long. You’re no failure, Carmen.”

“If I’m so special, then why I couldn’t refuse you earlier?”

“Anyone else and they’d be my condom. You didn’t even suck me off, much less bend over for me. Hell, I started touching you when you were getting blown, and you only kissed me.”

“Don’t remind me.” Carmen despised how close she’d come to the edge. If the Seikogami had tried going further, she wouldn’t have refused. Just the memory burned in her loins, cowed only by her disappointment.

“What I’m saying is, letting yourself have fun isn’t bad. Things have changed. You’re not poor, or frumpy looking, you have a cock and you’ve got a flock of futanari ready to fling themselves at you. There’s no sense in clinging to what you were like in the past. Now cheer up, being the sensible one is boring,” Ryuka flopped onto her back, hard enough to bounce Carmen, who tumbled over the Seikogami’s chest. Next to the giant mounds, rested the Futa Note.

“Yeah… guess you’ve got a point,” Carmen said and grabbed the book. Its presence in her hands soothed her, as if whispering sweet nothings, but that shouldn’t be. Relying on such a thing would ruin her one day. In what way? So long as she guarded it, and didn’t let someone else use it, then the book could do nothing to harm her, but what if she started to need it. What if she gave up on handling things for herself.

No. Carmen knew that she was stubborn, her grades in spite of everything proved it, just having the option was enough. If things collapsed around her, then the book could help her again. A last resort, she thought and flipped to Leah’s entry, but ignored what she already wrote.

“Oh? What’re you planning?” Ryuka asked.

“Just thinking about plans. It’s Summer vacation after all,” Carmen said, tapping her pen against the page. It was too late for Leah, the transformation into a futa was permanent. Perhaps reverting her to something like Dakota was possible, but where was the fun in that?

“You’re a terrible influence, you know that?” Carmen sighed. On her inhale, she noticed the bite of her bra. Frowning, Carmen adjusted it but the discomfort remained. Another sigh. She went through a bra every two weeks it seemed, sometimes faster, “Looks like I need new bras.”

“No you don’t. Your tits are perfect. Let them hang loose and you won’t notice a difference,” Ryuka said.

“Really? Well, guess there’s no point in visiting Leah in a few days. Shame, and I was thinking of trying out a few things.”

“Hey now, let’s not be too hasty. True, boobs should be free, but sometimes a bit of support is divine.”

“Thought so,” Carmen snickered and traced the paper down to a blank line under Leah’s name. She erased the full stop, and started her additions. Not that they would take effect until they met again. But the first transformation was still active.

Leah returned home without her bra. The useless thing was in a trash can somewhere inside the mall she worked at. Shame too, as she’d only bought it a few weeks ago, though she must’ve grown since then. After a few hours of work, the hooks were biting into her and the cups overflowed with her bosom. Few of her customers minded, even less when her top almost burst open. She had no clue why this happened, or why her darling cunny was now partnered with a dick.

It wasn’t bad. Other people might freak out, call a doctor, maybe try cutting it off, but those types were insane. No woman should give up a chance to experience the rare joy of a male orgasm. And oh did she enjoy it. Cumming ‘normally’ was a full body experience, like a sudden rush of love and warmth. Her cock, however, was an explosion.

She rolled her tongue across her lips, cooing at the memory. If cumming from one was incredible, just imagine what both at once felt like, but why imagine it when she was a few steps from her room. Her pussy warmed and its sibling swelled. Before that, she needed a good drink. Between work and the episode in the bathroom, she’d had a glass of milk and nothing else.

“Hmm, perfect,” Leah said, retrieving a fresh bottle of milk. It was the luxurious kind, claimed better taste and health than all the competitors, and that it was ‘fresh from the cow’. She wasn’t sure about that, though the taste was no lie. Full glass in hand, a burgeoning lust in the back of her mind, and double the genitals, Leah headed to her room. Rachel collided with her at the kitchen door.

“Sorry Leah, I… whoa,” Rachel said.

“What? Oh, yeah. I had some kind of growth spurt today,” Leah said and shrugged.

“That’s not normal,” Rachel gasped, staring at the elder girl, “Leah, they’re like two cups bigger than normal.”

“Really?” Leah asked, not paying much attention as she sipped her drink. When did she drink half of it? She hadn’t spilt any either. Better get a refill, given the amount of fluids she was planned to waste. She smirked and turned away.

“And your ass got bigger,” Rachel noted.

“Did it?

“Are you sure nothing weird happened?”

“No. I mean… yeah, no,” Leah said. Her sister had a tendency to overreact, or over analyse certain changes, and growing a penis would pique her curiosity without doubt. Or maybe something else would happen? Spending a majority of time online led Leah to stranger sites, with stories ranging from vanilla to sisters suddenly becoming incestuous bunnies. Others even had them grow cocks of their own. Leah’s eye ran across her petite sister’s body.

Petite described her to a ‘T’. Slight bumps for her chest, enough to be missed but not ignored, and a sleek waist that spread into her hips. No one would think Rachel was a boy, perhaps a fem-boy, however she didn’t look like a woman. Not yet anyway. Puberty could wait until the last minute. On that day, maybe Leah would tell her.

Rachel eyed her like an unsure animal, “Did you talk to someone named Carmen?”

“Well, yeah. Carmen’s my manager,” Leah chuckled.

“I mean, like, a customer or something. Did you get on their bad side?”

“Maybe? I think there was a girl called Carmen, but I’m not sure. Only a weirdo remembers every customer’s name. Although, there was this gorgeous girl with a bunch of other people like her. Like, phew, you think my tits are big?” Leah bit her lip, recalling the table in vivid detail. She’d made sure to memorise them. If she hadn’t grown her dick, then she might’ve tried getting a number or two. One of them looked like a regular, so she might see them again. She hoped.

“Okay,” Rachel walked away, mumbling under her breath.

“I swear, something’s wrong with her. Huh?” Leah huffed when she checked her refill and realised she’d drunk it all during the conversation, brief as it was, “Okay, fuck it. Taking the carton.”


Re: Futa Note (Re-Write) - by Tosaku no Kishi

Chapter 28 - Indulgence

The thrum of her phone tore Carmen’s gaze from her book on archaeology. Who was it this time? She checked the date; probably Leah. Opening e-mail, she was struck by another picture of Leah Adams, topless and beaming at the camera with one arm hefting up her breasts. A half empty glass of milk sat in the background.

When Carmen wrote the change, she hadn’t expected Leah to be so enamoured with the catalyst. Maybe she wasn’t. The book held so many nuances, small additions to extract the full effect of an entry that she couldn’t predict. Regardless, the pictured futa had progressed faster than anticipated. Another photo showed the beginnings of new boobs beneath the first. Carmen gulped and slammed it on her bed. Too late. Her cock was hard.

“The more I see of your brain, the more I like,” Ryuka said, taking the phone, “You’re turning her into a real human cow.”

“Dammit,” Carmen groaned and went to the bathroom. Dread and anticipation crawled through her toes and fingers, while lust rampaged toward her crotch, bulging through her pants and dripping down her thigh. She’d given up on panties or even boxers at home, having soaked through too many sets in just two weeks. All because of Leah.

The first image she handled well enough. It was just a plump, attractive girl presenting her boobs, nothing she couldn’t see with a quick web search, then everything snowballed from there. In a mirror of Carmen’s desire, Leah’s areolae darkened, her nipples swelled to the size of ripe grapes, the breasts blossomed until they eclipsed her ribs and then the lactation. Her dick lurched at the banquet she teased it with.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Carmen said after wiping away and flushing her latest orgasm. In the moment, she forgot everything and basked in pleasure, blind to the world. Then the glow faded, and she was left facing a goo-covered toilet, and a floor splattered in her vaginal fluids. Oh, and the smell. Carmen kept a stash of air fresheners for it, but she doubted they did anything. Even fresh air seemed crushed under her musk.

She shivered at the word. ‘Musk’ sounded so base, like she was devolving. And wasn’t she? Humans evolved to control their urges, that’s what made them the ‘superior’ species. Wild animals just followed their desires, without a care but for survival and their next meal.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Humans give into their urges all the time. Gambling, alcoholism, sex addiction, it’s all part of being human, isn’t it?” Ryuka mused.

“Yes, but… I should be better,” Carmen flopped onto her bed, its cloud-like sheets and pillows hugged her on all sides, yet she wasn’t satisfied. Above her, Ryuka hovered like always. At times, it looked like she was swimming, her breasts and genitals bobbing in a water current. It’d feel so much better to be held by her, Carmen thought and snapped her head to the side. Her neck and cheeks burned.

“Hmm?” Ryuka floated down, then through the bed. Carmen jolted as the Seikogami came from below, arms looped around her waist. Those massive breasts squished against and around her back, softer than any cushion she knew, “I may be a Seikogami, but I’m also a hugger.”

Carmen gulped, trying to keep her thoughts under control. She had a better chance of outrunning a cheetah than ignoring Ryuka. Softness enveloped her torso, warmth teased her legs where the deity’s cock touched her. How had she avoided touching it? The skin against her leg was smooth, soft like everything else, yet a hardness laid beneath it. Ready to take hold.

“Let me go,” Carmen said.

“No,” Ryuka giggled, “It’s okay to enjoy this. We’re not crossing any of your boundaries, are we?”

“No, but I know what you’re like.”

“You’re worried about the Touch.”

Carmen groaned, “Stay out of my head.”

“It’s okay,” Ryuka repeated and kissed the human’s head, “I’m not about to force you into anything.”

“You did with Leah,” Carmen said.

“No, I just helped you make a choice,” Ryuka said and moved her hands to cup Carmen’s bust, “Now, if I used it here and took advantage of your lust, then that’d be force. I’m not about that. Though these are quite nice now. How come you never play with them?”

“Because I’m not like you,” Carmen forced the goddess’s hands away. They settled on her belly instead, tracing patterns over the shirt.

“That’s what makes you interesting.” Ryuka leaned back. For minutes, they laid in silence. Carmen considered getting up several times, but her body demanded she remain. Sleep had become scarce since she transformed Leah. Most dreams featured her pictures, imagining them coming alive and helping Carmen to cum, which never failed. It was why Carmen now stored condoms with her air fresheners. They made going to bed uncomfortable, but at least the mess was contained.

She glanced at the trash bin near her bed. Hidden under paper scraps and wrappers, laid bundles of swollen condoms, each the size of grapefruits and growing. It made her wonder just how much she was producing everyday. The thought sparked her arousal, but the flame sputtered out as sleep came. Atop Ryuka’s so very soft body, Carmen drifted off.

And found herself in a familiar dream-scape. It was the diner restroom, standing across from Leah, except her figure was the same as the recent pictures. Broad hips swung as they approached, tits bouncing to her steps, all four of them. The top pair were massive, larger than Carmen’s and overshadowed the new set. Two nipples on each breast, each leaking a stream of milk. Leah stopped just out of Carmen’s reach and started touching herself.

She groped each breast, keening moans gliding through the air. She dropped one, splashing milk onto the floor, and moved the hand between her legs, where her fourteen-inch cock stood sentry. But she ignored it. Instead, Leah spread her legs and turned to present her pussy. Chubby like the rest of her, its full lips glistened and squeezed between her thighs. Her balls shrouded the clit, but it snuck into sight.

Leah backed closer and closer until the humid heat of her cunt enshrouded Carmen’s cock. Its smell drowned out the sweet milk aroma, burying it under the alluring stench of pussy. However, like most dreams, Leah turned back around and returned to playing with her breasts. She could drink from them at that size. Easily. If she did, it’d create a perfect feedback loop.

It was still a dream. There, Carmen’s mind was God, the Devil and everything between, with Leah as nothing but a plaything to please her. Taking her upper breasts in hand, nipples swelling with milk and blood, Leah swallowed all four nipples and sucked. Lips pursed tight, she refused to let a drop escape. Her throat worked hard to swallow, loud gulps and sordid moans filling the room. As she drank, her bottom pair ballooned. The top weren’t far behind either.

Her hands vanished inside their gorgeous bounty. Two more nubs formed in the areolae, now the size of plates, and grew into their own nipples. Leah paused to take them in as well, doubling her intake. The younger tits were on par with their sisters, each still growing as they were lifted by another pair. Half a dozen fountains doused the floor in milk.

“You can do more.” Someone - Ryuka? - said. From shadows, a figure so voluptuous, a face so gorgeous and a presence so haunting stepped out. That wasn’t Ryuka. This… creature seemed to struggle with the darkness, like it wanted to be seen and heard and couldn’t be, “Your desires go beyond this, don’t they? Give them a chance. You won’t regret it.”

“What are you?” Carmen asked, stroking herself to the pair. How couldn’t she? Leah was blooming into a human cow before her eyes, with tits bigger than Stacy’s, almost the size of Ryuka’s, and the creature that almost seemed familiar. It broke free of the shadows. No wings or cock, so it wasn’t a Seikogami. It, she, approached and stood with her arms wide.

“Whatever you want...” Her form changed, shrinking and widening slightly.

“Don’t.” Carmen shook her head, but too late. The creature, whatever she was, had taken on Stacy’s form.

“Or do you want another?” She returned to her original form, then a cock sprouted and grew to Ryuka’s size, “You can’t hide your desires, Carmen. Or control them. The only ‘control’ you can have is how you indulge in them.” More changes. Taller, wider hips, tits too large for any torso, fatter cock and balls.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Carmen bit her lip to keep from moaning the words. She was close. Another mess to clean up, but it’d feel so good to make.

“You’ve got such a vast imagination, Carmen,” the creature said, still changing, gaining stranger additions by the seconds. Arms sprouted beneath others, which groped the new pairs of tits bellowing forth, while tendrils stretched from behind to stroke three separate dicks. The nipples changed, some fattened and opened, revealing new pussies. Others became mouths, more dicks. She raised her beanbag sack and revealed a pussy bigger than Carmen’s head.

“And the power to use it. So, why not?”

“Fuck!” Carmen shrieked and jerked her hips forward. Cum rocketed out of her, so strong that she thought it would rend her cock and balls, as she was battered by ecstasy. For every drop unleashed, it was like mortars striking. None landed back on her. She looked and saw Ryuka’s face buried in her crotch.

“No, GOD!” More shot forth. She grabbed the Seikogami’s head and held it there, twitching against it through an orgasm she’d dreaded and so, so very craved. When the dregs oozed out, Carmen relaxed and wondered if she’d ever move again. Or think clearly.

“My, that was intense,” Ryuka said. Carmen raised her head to see the deity licking her lips clean of cum, “Not many people cum hard enough to make me spill a bit. You’ve got potential, kid.”

“Just… shut up,” Carmen relaxed and pondered the dream, painting the creature upon the ceiling. What was that?

“Probably your subconscious,” Ryuka said.

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded.

“Or the Futa Note.”

“What?” Weariness forgotten, Carmen sat upright and glared at Ryuka, “What does that mean?”

“Dunno,” the goddess shrugged, “But the book is alive to some extent. It learns from its owner, sometimes even guides her. Perhaps it sensed your hesitation and tried giving you a little push.”

“That must be it,” Carmen said. She leaned onto her pillows, crushing the thought of how Ryuka’s breasts were softer, and composed herself. The book was to blame, not her mind. Always the book. She couldn’t be the one at fault. On her nightstand, the Futa Note rested unopened, untouched for days now. Perhaps the apparition in her dream was its fault, but Leah was her creation. If she just dealt with those feelings, then she could move on.

“Good news, I’m going to the mall tomorrow.”


Time was ticking. Leah’s second alarm went off fifteen minutes ago, blaring at her to hurry up and get to work. Easier said than done. She’d showered, ate breakfast, brushed her teeth, used the toilet, but the most crucial part of her new routine went on and on; the milking. Rachel had left to meet a friend already, fed up with waiting on her sister. But it wasn’t Leah’s fault.

She didn’t tell Rachel about what was happening to her. Aside from dying of embarrassment, she didn’t want to give the kid another reason for concern; high school must be tough enough already. Their parents didn’t know either. And that’s how it would stay. Even if they offered to help with the milking, she couldn’t let them know the other change.

It’s what made the milking drag out so long. Even after she took measures to speed it up, even buying breast pumps of all things, she never left the house until the last minute. Her milk never seemed done. Or her cock for that matter. The moment she attached the pumps and the cream flowed, her dick swelled into her hand and begged to be loved. But if she focused on it, her milk came too slowly. If she focused on her tits, then she didn’t get the pleasure of her cock.

“Okay, secret weapon,” Leah grinned. From a box under her bed, she retrieved another box. Inside was her best chance at leaving on time; a pocket pussy. Her co-workers got it for her as a joke after she mentioned how big her clit was - she got drunk, what else was she gonna say. They didn’t know it, but they’d saved her. After preparing everything, she was ready. She stuck the pocket pussy to her wall.

“Alright,” Leah poured some lube over her shaft, though her pre-cum was plentiful enough, and applied it to her toy. She held both and slid inside, “Fuck, that’s tight.” But it took her. Only halfway, but enough. The silicone bulged with her cock and clung to her every ridge and vein. Hands freed, Leah grabbed her tits. The pumps were almost full. Shit! She couldn’t leave, someone might see, and there were no other empty cups.

“I can’t believe this,” Leah said and gulped. She brought the two cups she’d already used and upended them into her mouth one by one, “Oh fuck! I’m delicious.” Heat washed through her, tearing a moan from her lips. She knew the sensation by now and watched her tits. They grew, so faint that anyone else would miss it, however she saw the growth. Something wet on their bottoms brought a groan.

“No, not you too.” Her other pair were leaking now. Whatever she was going through felt amazing. Just walking rubbed her huge breasts against the smaller pair, hardening her nipples at the worst and best times. All eight of them. She didn’t have time to pump them all. It’d leave a mess, but better than being late. Her boss was getting pissed enough already.

Alternating breasts, Leah squeezed. She replaced the cups and drank them too. The warmth returned, surging down her body and into her loins. Her tits swelled into her hands, tight and hot and full. Concern melted away in a wave of pleasure. Milk spurted from her nipples and the sex toy coiled around her dick. The feeling of fluid leaving her engorged teats, squeezing out holes too small for her demand, was as delicious as drinking it. Oh fuck! Realisation flashed through her. Leah moved the pump down to her bottom set and hefted the top.

“Can’t believe this.” Leah gulped and stared at her leaking nubs, swollen and sensitive from the pump. Her areolae had fattened outward, like an udder, almost reaching for her lips. She closed the gap on both her breasts, wrapping an arm over to hold them in place, and suckled.

Customers always bothered her about the ‘freshness’ of the food. ‘Was it bought in today’ and ‘how old is this soda’. She just told them whatever they wanted to hear, whether they believed her or not was up to them. Now, however, she understood the difference. Having her milk slightly cooled from the cup, its taste distilled by the precious seconds out of her tits did not compare. Leah guzzled every drop she could, though some dribbled out.

She fucked the toy faster. She bowed her legs and swung her hips like a madwoman, balls flying into the pocket pussy, then her ass and back again. It stung, but pleasure swarmed the sensation and buried it.

“Ugh, can’t believe this!” Rachel shouted. What was she doing back? No worries, just focus on finishing. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, approaching Leah’s door, “Leah? You still in there?”

“Shit! Y-yeah, just getting dressed.” Her hips wouldn’t stop. She moaned into a hand, breasts leaking down her front and soaking the carpet.

“Well hurry up! The buses aren’t running for some fucking reason.”

“Give me a few minutes!” Leah abandoned any intent on savouring herself and keeping things mostly clean. She pounded the wall, pinched her nipples and clenched her thighs to rub against her fat pussy. It was her favourite, covert way to masturbate. Her clit poked out and was pinched. Here it comes. Leah did her best to hold back her blissful scream, reducing it to a sharp roar as cum blasted out her dick.

“Oh, oh god that was awesome,” Leah giggled and fell onto her thick ass, “Can’t imagine how good a real pussy feels.” Viscous jizz drooled from the abused toy.

“Leah!” Rachel pined from outside, shocking her into action.

After their growth spurt, her bottom breasts almost showed through her clothing. Last thing she wanted was to explain them to someone. She rummaged through her old clothes, too lazy to throw them out, and found an old shirt. Tearing into it, she fashioned a belt and looped it around her lower breasts, squishing them down against her belly. Uncomfortable, yet effective. She’d find a better solution later.

“Gretchen’s so annoying,” Rachel grumbled in the car.

“Why hang out with her then?” Leah asked. She’d heard enough about Gretchen to know she wasn’t a good person.

“Because…” Rachel shrugged.

“That’s not a reason.”

“I dunno. I’ve just done it since freshman year, so it’s normal.”

“Normal isn’t always good,” Leah said, holding back a smirk.

“Fair enough. Doesn’t matter. After this shitty prep year thing, I’m done with her.”

“Oh yeah, what’s your plan anyway?” Leah asked.

Rachel started, “Huh? What plan?”

“For when you graduate. Going to college or just working?” Leah shook her head. Her sister got flustered over the smallest things sometimes.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Not a clue. I’ll think about it when the time comes.”

“I could always put a word in at the café.” Leah offered.

“No. Like I need more people comparing our… Did your tits grow again?”

“Hmm, oh yeah. Must be a second puberty.”

“That’s not a thing, Leah. It’s gotta be all those snacks you’re sneaking. I thought you were on a diet.”

“I am! I cut milkshakes and coffee and soda. Just water and milk.”

“You could at least cut back on the éclairs and doughnuts,” Rachel shook her head, looking out the window, though her eyes flitted back to Leah.

“No! Those are my favourites.”

“Tough shit. If you don’t want your tits to turn into udders, you’d better stop.”

“Nothing wrong with udders,” Leah said, stroking her breast. She stopped and focused back on the road. Her tongue slipped out and licked her lips, thinking of the bounty imprisoned in her boobs. Rachel just murmured something and fell into silence.

Her manager wasn’t happy, of course. She was five minutes late - better than yesterday - but they just shoved her into work. It was Saturday, busiest time of the week, no time for discipline. Her lower breasts ached from their bonds, however the work rhythm kept it from her attention. As did a familiar face.

It was that girl from a couple weeks back. She was alone, sat in a corner with just a cup of coffee. A notebook sat in front of her, while she tapped a pen. Writer’s block? She glanced up at Leah, who hurried onto another table. For some reason, she wanted to know that girl. She was attractive, sure, with breasts just begging to be adored, but there was something else. If Leah got the chance, she’d get that girls number.

Her heart sank when she next looked and saw no one there. Another time, then.


“Coming! What can I… um, get for you?” Leah frowned and pulled on her shirt. Was it always that tight? The customer made their order, and Leah was on her way. The tightness alleviated, then another patron called for her. An attractive, if haggard woman with two kids, probably a single mother. She must not get much action, Leah thought.

The tightness was back, this time it focused in her boxers. Leah leaned forward to hide h