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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!

tags
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

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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.

3

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.”

“But…”

“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?”

“Yep!”

“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.

4

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.”

5

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?”

“But-”

“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.

6

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.

“Here.”

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.

“Study?”

“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.

7

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.

8

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.

“How?”

“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.

9

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.

10

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?”

“What?!”

“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.

11

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.

“Carmen?”

“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.

12

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.”

“Really?”

“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.

13

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.

“Hungover?”

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?”

“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.

14

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.

“Maybe.”

“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?”

“No.”

“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.

“About?”

“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.

“What?”

“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.”

“O-okay.”

“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.

“No!”

“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.

15

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.”

“Fine.”

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?”

“Yeah.”

“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?”

“Because…”

“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.