Futanari Notebook Ch. 11

"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.