Futanari Notebook Ch. 12

"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.