Futanari Notebook Ch. 16

It was night and day as Zoey passed old photos along the staircase. Depictions of a sweet and caring child, had decayed and formed a spiteful woman. Blonde curls had fallen into black streaks, the long, flowing dresses and skirts were cut, and her smooth skin was marred by tattoos. Zoey hadn't changed much from the auburn haired, baby-faced child on the wall.

She had started as a typical kid, adventurous and uninhibited. Then she and Megan went to different middle-schools, and the bullying started. She never figured out why they targeted her, but they had. In a span of two years, she'd withdrawn into herself. Megan had been her sole refuge, until she turned against her as well.

She and Megan were friends once. A typical sisterly relationship, the older one mentored the child, kept her safe and told her what their parents wouldn't. Like how to manipulate boys. Back when a lack of bust didn't mean anything, they would wind-up every guy they met for fun, gossip about who liked who, or dare the other to go out with someone they didn't like.

As she grew, Megan got curvier and her popularity spiked. They spent less time together. Megan was the boy's girl, while Zoey ran around a field or kept to herself all day. Eventually, Megan decided she could be a model, based on how many guys drooled over her. It didn't work out. All the agencies either told her she was too curvy, or not curvy enough. Even the more risqué ones turned her down.

On her last bid, she had Zoey with her. Zoey thought it was a possible resurgence in their relationship. They had gotten along fine then, but not as well as before. It all went downhill from there. Megan didn't get the job, instead they tried to proposition Zoey, the skinny little sister, and she turned them down. That was the final straw it seemed.

It became obvious that any semblance of friendship was over. Megan chose to take pride in her figure, rightly so, but she took it too far. She lured every guy she could with her large tits, stole boyfriends, slept around, shamed anyone with a pant size smaller than ten, and paid special attention to Zoey. Every chance she got, she reminded her of how skinny the athlete was, or how she hadn't had any boyfriends. Ever.

She peered around the corner, down the hall where her sister's room oozed dread. Avoidance wasn't cowardice, but strategy. Her... curse? Gift? Carmen did theorise that it came from a god, so maybe it was a gift. Either way, it wouldn't trigger from this. She hoped.

It didn't matter. She wasn't the same anymore. The timid girl, who ran track to escape her problems, was a memory, lost in the sea of others. Zoey toed the floor, checking for any loose boards that might rouse her sister. Nothing yet. She dragged her feet along the ground, keeping her weight distributed and ready to flee if needed. Another step without incident.

She reached for her door. One more step and she'd be safe, free to relax in private, away from Gretchen's wrath and Carmen's temptation. Megan's door opened. Zoey's head jerked in her direction and locked there, staring at the turn of fate. The elder sibling raised her head from her phone and smirked at the sight of Zoey, who glanced over her in dismay. Megan wore nothing but her underwear. Her bra was tight, forcing her breasts to overflow its cups.

"Hey there, sis," Megan beamed and strode over, she exaggerated the natural sway of her plentiful hips, and came to a stop before the taller sibling, legs cocked to the side. Her panties dug deep into her lower curves, creating a slight muffin top. A damp smell caught Zoey's attention. A familiar, sexual odour. She glanced to Megan's crotch and noticed a darkness across her underwear.

"Hi," Zoey said. She kept her thoughts secret, including the slight surge of pride at standing over Megan again. She could do this.

"What happened this time? Did that big, mean Gretchen pick on you again?"

"Yeah, then I punched her," Zoey answered flatly.

Megan's smile dropped, "What?"

"I punched her. She was a real bitch. Worse than you are," Zoey explained. Her skin dimpled and muscles trembled, yet the welcome heat of growth kept her in place and pushed the words out.

"Good for you, Zoey. You finally stood up against a bully!" Megan patronised, "About time. Shame you couldn't do that in grade school, when I had to rescue you. Remember that?"

"Yeah, I do. I also remember having to look after you when Nancy Cramer didn't invite you to her birthday. I'm amazed you didn't flood the house, you were crying so much."

Megan's expression turned sour, "Listen here you little shit! I don't fucking care if you think you're some hot bitch now because you punched someone. Big deal. I've clawed eyes out. You're still a worthless cunt."

"And what does that make you?!" Zoey shouted. She took a step forward and Megan backed away. Blood rushed to her face. No one had looked her this way. It wasn't fear, nor was it contempt. She tried to comprehend it, but her words came first, "Well? I've done nothing to you. Except try to be your sister! Who's been taking your shit for the last four years, huh?" The last past was mostly fuelled by Gretchen, but it applied all the same.

"Zoey," Megan started.

"Shut it. I don't care anymore, got it? I don't care that you didn't get to be a model, or that you think you have to fuck with everyone you meet. Megan," Zoey took a deep breath. The heat was greater than ever, even more so than after she punched Gretchen. It wasn't anger, she knew that as intimately as her family. "We're sisters for fuck's sake. You think I wanted you fail?"

Megan's eyes and lips convulsed. She took a deep breath, anger in her eyes. Zoey focused on it, enforcing her own, years-old rage upon the seething emotion. Then Megan exhaled, her face relaxed and lowered.

"I'm sorry. Alright?" She said and moved around the athlete, down the stairs. Zoey stared after her.

"Thanks," Zoey breathed and went into her room, where she crumpled atop her bed. It was a start, but everything had to begin somewhere. Even so, with the deprivation of adrenaline and the warmth, the weight of her words fell on her. All at once. She hadn't punched Megan, but somehow it seemed worse than with Gretchen, "Because we're sisters?" Zoey postulated aloud. Maybe. But Megan also wasn't cruel without any reason behind it. She was hurt. The blonde queen of Saint Puella had nothing like that.

If she cared enough about Gretchen, she might've tried to figure out what it is that drove her. She didn't. All she wanted from Gretchen was to be left alone. A request she wouldn't heed. Jenna had done nothing but get them her called to an assembly, stealing less than an hour from her day. Hospital awaited Zoey if she showed her face anytime soon, or worse. She had never seen the blonde so furious before, though no one had punched her before.

Her return would be whole new territory. Yet another major change.

But she could do nothing about it now. She rolled onto her back and stretched her legs, sore after the constant sprinting, then smirked at her ceiling as her feet dangled off her mattress. Back to normal, she thought and sat up. They say people take things for granted, and she agreed as she stood to inspect her renewed form.

She was taller than normal. Zoey blinked as she looked around her room, hopeful that each flicker would reveal that she was imagining it all. That the ceiling wasn't so low, that she couldn't reach up and press her palm flat against it with ease. Her bookshelf had once stood on a level plain as her, now she could rest her chin atop it, and her bed seemed too small. A frown creased her skin.

This was good. She had towered above most girls at Saint Puella before, with Carmen being among the few exceptions, now she dwarfed them. Even Gretchen would think twice before messing with her. Zoey felt along her body, intent on making sure everything was as it should be.

Her legs were long and powerful as ever, still the core of her height. She bent to trace along the powerful muscle along her thigh, down her quads and calves, a grateful grin on her lips. The earlier struggle to outrun Holly was a hollow memory now. She flexed and smirked at the display of her prowess.

The muscle extended into her upper form. It hadn't diminished when she shrank, rather it withdrew into her skin and kept her body in prime condition. Now it was free. Gentle curves and ridges carried across her stomach, pecs and into her arms. Her biceps bulged with strength and femininity, unlike those deranged bodybuilders she heard of, the ones that were more masculine than most men. And yet, unlike those women, she possessed a penis. An enviable advantage in their eyes.

She was still a girl, though. Zoey stripped down to make sure, anxiety high as she imagined slowly losing her sexual identity. She raised her male genitalia and saw her shy pussy peek out, its lips closed and curved up into the hood of her clit. A faint layer of juices glistened on her tight yet plump labia. Yes, she was a girl, first and foremost. She just had a cock too. A big, meaty dick more masculine than some she'd seen online.

Back on her bed, she studied it. Her thighs framed the shaft, a trinity of power. On either side, she saw muscle, and at the centre rested a veiny slab of meat, perched atop a pair of large balls. Her mons were bald, smooth as a worry stone.

"It's smaller," Zoey noted. Last night's explosion of bliss crossed her mind and was followed by disappointment. She was flexible, but she would be lucky to the reach the head now. Even so, she looked larger than the first time she saw it, by a couple of inches she estimated. And still flaccid. She needed to know how it looked erect, and to get some release.

She shuffled back on her bed and leaned against the headboard. Zoey spread her thighs further and grabbed her member. It hung past her index finger. Anticipation sizzled beneath her skin.

An earlier fantasy barged into her thoughts, one of Gretchen, submissive to Zoey's huge cock and covered in cum. The athlete stroked along her length, a motion that became easier with each day, stoking the flame of lust within it. Her prick swelled and pulsed with life. It spread her fingers wider, until her thumb and forefinger were separated. Though smaller than mere hours ago, no one would mistake it for small.

Zoey brought her second hand into the mix. As she stroked with one, the other explored, like a blind person familiarising themselves with a new element. Her fingertips traced vein upon vein. They splintered off into dozens of new paths, undulating with blood. Another vein, thicker than the rest, bulged along the bottom of her shaft. But they all lead to one place; the head. Her favourite part. Huge and spongy, it bulged from her shaft at a near-obscene angle, almost like a mushroom, and was a deep, lustful purple.

She squeezed toward the tip. A small pearl of pre-cum oozed from the precipice, then broke and streamed onto her fingers, warm and slimy. It streaked down her shaft as she sank, following the broad line along the bottom of her cock. Another bead poured out and down the top as she rose again. More gushed with every circuit, extra piled upon the already ample amount, until her throbbing, vein-riddled dick glistened in the dull light. The scent wafted from her length. A line of drool leaked from her lips.

Zoey hunched forward. Her short hair fell and grazed her cock's peak. Hot, humid breaths broke against it and urged greater dollops of pre. She sniffed at it, sighing with every exhale. The mild perfume she wore was drowned in the musk. Strong and virile, masculine, yet infused with the delicate, spicy scent of her pussy. Her tongue lashed out, but couldn't reach. She curled in further, lips puckered.

That stench... that disarming, controlling reek demanded that she taste it. She wanted to taste it, Zoey amended. What was she becoming, that it almost hurt not to suck her own dick, that she drooled at the mere smell of it? Any shame she might have felt was shoved aside. This was what she craved, no shame in that.

The shame was in her inability to fulfil her lust. She grunted and puckered her lips. They met the head, both soft and moist. Pre-cum burst across her mouth. She licked it clean and shuddered. This was a gift, no doubt about it. Even Gretchen couldn't enjoy the taste of cum the way she did.

"Come on, just a little more," Zoey breathed. Her cock twitched at her words, as if reaching for her as well, eager to bury itself in her gullet once more. Muscle and boned strained in unison, working together to attain her ultimate goal, all while her hands worked and doused themselves and her fingers in pre-cum. Her breath became cool on her spongy crown.

She reared back on her ass and lurched forward. Her lips spread, her tongue stretched, her cock slid across her slick muscle and into her maw. Zoey moaned in victory and sealed her mouth around it. Moisture and warmth surrounded her pulsating prick, a lush sanctuary for her cock to unleash its lewd treasure. Salty goo spilled across her taste buds and coated them. It oozed around her mouth and clung to her teeth.

Zoey suckled on the head. She couldn't go lower, but this would work. Her tongue swirled across the sensitive peak, along the cleft where the glans met skin, lathering it in her spit and its own translucent gunk. Yoga and gymnastics waited in her future. She was sure of it.

She slid her lips along what she could reach. Fresh gouts of pre spurted at her attention. They splashed against the roof of her mouth and down her throat, setting off her gag reflex. Thick saliva dribbled down her length and mixed with the dick slime already there, creating a frothing mess over her shaft. Her veins throbbed harder and echoed in the head.

It wouldn't be long before she came. Until then, she planned to savour all the sensations her new, lurid form could muster. And that meant using her cunt. Zoey's trim nails crossed the plane of her testes, down and under them until they nestled against her sopping snatch, swollen with tempered lust. It opened around three fingers with ease, hungry for the attention.

She curled the digits and scratched at her tight, dripping walls. Her pinkie finger pressed flush against her engorged labia as her thumb toyed with the clit, sending shocks of delight buzzing throughout her nervous system. As her hand climbed her cock, she sank her fingers to the knuckle, faster with every repeat, until the slick noises saturated the room. She moaned and inhaled around her dick, turning her cheeks a striking convex shape.

"Yes, more... oh god, more," Zoey mumbled around her dick. The vibrations travelled along its length, down into her stuffed sack. Her eyelids closed, shutting out any distraction, and left her thoughts to themselves.

Close as she was, Zoey only had one thing on her mind; pleasure. It took whatever form it desired, such was its role in life. Here, she saw Gretchen, eye still blackened, submissively nursing from her cock. A mess of spit and pre coated the blonde's face. It sullied her once lush hair, turning it to a gross mass of matted locks. Soon it would be painted white in Zoey's cum. She couldn't say whether she produced enough for the job, but she longed to know.

Then another desire entered the mix. Her mind's eye turned and saw Carmen behind her, huge, natural breasts on either side of Zoey's head while she played with the futa's rigid nipples. Creamy flesh, capped by ripe cherry-sized nipples, saturated Zoey's sight. The busty honour student whispered unintelligible words to her. She didn't need to understand them, only know their meaning.

"Cum. Cum. Cum."

Zoey moaned louder and bucked her hips. Her moans rose higher until they were muffled shrieks, while her pussy clamped down on her fingers. She added a fourth to the slurry of juices and played rough with her clit. Every blissful pulsation worked its way to her cock. The flow of pre subsided. Her member twitched and lurched, thickening as it worked to stuff her fully.

The first wave of cum was always the best. Every inch of her cock was warmed by the flow, it swelled and the veins pounded against her tongue, before flooding her mouth. Zoey sputtered a the violent short. It splattered from her lips onto her crotch. She swallowed what she could before the next. Prepared, she devoured each drop. As if challenged, the next volley came faster. She managed, but the follow up was quicker still.

Before long, she could do little more than gag, moan and drool the excess onto her groin. Even so, her hands prolonged the blissful pleasure. Her pussy squelched around her fingers, leaking onto her bed, as she continued to jerk her cock. Both came in tandem, each sensation familiar yet alien in their delirious fusion.

The sky cleared, allowing sunlight to break through and bathe the world in its warm glow. Zoey giggled to herself, wondering if her orgasm had caused the sudden shift, still high on the post-orgasmic haze. Her chin, chest and crotch were all a mess, and her sheets were soaked. A casual sniff of the air imparted only the scent of pussy and cum. She'd sampled the mixture before, when she walked on in Gretchen after a night out.

None of her concerns broke past the afterglow. The fact that Gretchen would be out for blood, or that she had no idea how she would get her feelings across to Carmen, or how she would handle life as a mixed-gender athlete. Would they make something for trans people? Did that even apply to her?

It didn't matter. The possibility was still a long ways off, far from her current bliss. She rolled her fingers around in the cooling, gooey mess on her skin. Some had landed on her breasts. They were meagre things, direct opposites to Megan's lush pair, designed for a runner. But she wouldn't mind a bit more. She hummed at the idea of wrapping her cock in a pair of plump tits as she sucked it, all while her hands focused on her pussy. Her dick also approved as it stiffened once more.

"What's a refractory period?" Zoey giggled and grabbed it again. The skin was still sensitive, a bit sore, but she had no doubt a slow, gentle motion would be fine. She wondered how it would feel to have Carmen's hand on it, touching and stroking her dick to orgasm after orgasm. Someday, Zoey promised herself. She glanced to her most recent pile of clothes and reached over to retrieve her phone. That day wouldn't come without some extra work.

Hey, are you available after school?

She glanced at the time. Carmen would be in class. No matter how lax the teachers were in their punishment, she wouldn't risk answering her phone. Not a problem. Zoey had the perfect means to pass the time. Her hand returned to her cock and resumed her languid strokes. The pleasure was different, like a slow burn rather than the sudden blaze she was familiar with. She toyed with her pussy as well.

Half an hour later, her phone pinged. She wiped her hand clean of her filthy juices and grabbed it.

Only for about an hour. I have work.

Zoey arched a brow at the text. How could Carmen maintain top marks and still have time to work? It didn't seem feasible. Surely, she would be burnt out soon.

That's okay. I just want to talk for a bit.

A lie. She longed to do so much more, to reveal her cock to Carmen and lose her virginity in the same moment. But that was pure lust. Zoey pushed the desires aside, rather, she focused them into her left hand as it continued to stroke her cock.

Sure. You know that coffee place a few blocks from the school? Soothe the Soul?

Zoey had seen it a few times, only in passing though. She didn't care for coffee. Too bitter. But she would tolerate it for the sake of seeing Carmen again.

Yeah. Meet you there?

Yes. Class is starting. See you later.

Zoey set her phone down and stared at it, still with one hand on her shaft. Could this be considered a date? No, they weren't girlfriends. She doubted Carmen would even want to date her. Everyone claimed she was a lesbian, through and through. Though no one had seen her even kiss a girl, or a boy. Perhaps she just didn't have time for relationships? That seemed likely. She couldn't fit a girlfriend in amongst the countless hours of work and study.