Futanari Notebook Ch. 17

Zoey sat in a quaint shop, a single cup of coffee before her. The table was small, adequate for two getting a drink or snack and not much else. Three others occupied the space around her, each with a single person sat at them. Behind the counter, the owner cleaned up or sampled her own product, giving a satisfied sigh with each intake. Several people passed by, glanced inside with longing, then hurried along in dissatisfaction. What were they expecting?

She wore her casual outfit. A plain, red shirt and purple summer jacket, while her cock was confined to her jeans, strapped to her thigh while her balls were nestled tight within her boxer shorts. Discerning eyes might recognise the bulge, but any passer-by would ignore it. Still, she kept her lower body concealed under the table.

Five minutes to go before Carmen was supposed to arrive. Anticipation flashed at the thought of the stunning honour student, yet worry nipped at her excitement, as it always did. The beast was shackled, unable to crush her lap under anxiety's weight, though that made it no less powerful. Any number of things could go wrong after all.

Carmen might not show up, for one. Someone from school might see them and report back to Gretchen, who would show up a minute later for revenge. Perhaps Carmen would come, only to be called in for work early. No, that was ridiculous. Carmen wasn't the kind of person to stand someone up, and Gretchen would still be nursing her face after that punch. Hatred and delight tickled the skin of her knuckles, as if urging her to do it again. She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to repeat that moment over and over, and take it further. Despite the disgusting sensation it left in her.

Dread yanked her stomach to the lowest depths. That couldn't happen. It was a miracle the principal hadn't already called to expel her, anything more than earlier and she would be. Without a doubt. That, also, couldn't happen. Not yet.

Why did she worry anyway? It's not a date. It's not a date. Zoey repeated the sentence over and over in her mind, engraving it into her psyche. Even so, the odd flutter in her stomach as it wavered between plummeting into nothingness and vaulting into the open kept her on edge. The earlier satisfaction and release she'd felt from masturbating was gone.

Zoey glanced to her phone. Two minutes. She straightened her back, leaned into the chair and clutched her undrunk coffee. Caffeine was poison to a runner, an unnatural energy that became a crutch. She stared outside, watching for the standout beauty and intelligence that she pined for, and spotted her.

Marvellous. Gorgeous. Stupendous. Zoey ran through all the synonyms, hoping to find something that matched the girl who stepped inside, a wisp of air playing with her locks of dark blonde resplendence, while her chest wobbled like two rippling oceans. Her eyes stopped there. It was one thing to stare at someone's face, especially when their eyes were a startling sapphire hue, but their body was another.

"Hey," Carmen said and sat opposite Zoey, sinking into the lucky chair.

"Hey," Zoey replied. She cleared her throat and looked to her coffee, still steaming hot, "So, uh, how was school?"

"Same old, same old," Carmen said, glancing to the front. Zoey followed her gaze and saw the owner grinning back. She was a hefty women, with a plump middle and even plumper breasts, as if all her fat had tried to go for her curves, but ran out of room.

"Gretchen give any trouble?"

"The usual," Carmen reiterated. A hardness crept into her voice, "She picked on me, Mary and Dakota a bit. But it was pretty spread out. Rumour has it she stripped a girl in the gym."

"Yeah," Zoey sank into her chair, "She did."

"God, she needs a kick up the ass," Carmen said, then, as if a switch was flipped, the edge in her voice dissipated, "Hi, Stacy." Zoey looked up and saw the owner by their side, who peered over the shelf that was her bosom. What size was she? Even Gretchen's pair didn't match up.

"Afternoon, Carmen. You should've mentioned you were meeting a friend here. I'd have given her my special blend," Stacy said, beaming at the pair. Zoey looked away. It was too bright, like staring into the sun.

"What special blend?" Carmen asked.

"You'll find out later. Wink, wink."

"You don't have to say 'wink, wink' you know?"

"Yes." It was her imagination, but Zoey swore she heard the woman's smile widen, "Anyway, this one's on the house. So enjoy." The sweet owner, whose every atom seemed to screech bubbliness, left after setting a cup down before Carmen, who took a long sip of it.

"You drink coffee?" Zoey asked.

"Only Stacy's," Carmen said, grinning, "The usual blends are disgusting."

"Yeah," Zoey nodded, a terse smile on her lips. That's another thing they had in common, on top of their mutual disdain for Gretchen. There had to be more, though. A relationship couldn't be built on shared dislikes. Zoey stiffened and sank her head low, cheeks ablaze. To hide her thoughts, she took a long drag on the coffee and stopped an instant later. It was sweet, the bitterness buried underneath something thick. A dense cream, perhaps, though she'd never had one so sweet. It must be high in fat, she thought. Doesn't matter, she decided and drank another mouthful.

"Good, right?" Carmen inquired.

"Y-yeah," Zoey said.

"Told you," Carmen chuckled and took another drink of her own, "So, what did you want to talk about, anyway?"

"Oh, uh... just wanted to talk, really."

Carmen shrugged, "If you're sure."

"So, um, what's up with you, Mary and Dakota?" Zoey asked and snapped at herself in her mind.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know? They just started hanging out with you all a sudden, right after Mary's... thing got out."

"Coincidence," Carmen answered an instant too soon. Something flashed in her eyes, another something within that. They concealed each other, like soldiers making a tactical retreat.

"Sorry, that was rude," Zoey said, a wave of cold swept over her and the world grew. Not enough that she would've noticed yesterday, but she was attuned to it now.

"No, I'm sorry for snapping like that," Carmen said. That's snapping? Zoey blinked at the girl and laughed.

"If it was Gretchen, she would've shouted at me until she was blue. That's what she calls snapping."

"Let me guess, she calls slapping someone a high five?"

"Pretty much," Zoey giggled.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore," Carmen said.

"Why?"

"I know Gretchen's type. They're horrible and seem like the strongest bitch around. That is until someone comes along and puts them on their ass. It's simple instinct really. She'll snap and snarl, but won't fight back anymore. Not unless she can get a pack together. Really, Gretchen's more a dog than you'd think. That's why she kept you around her, but kept you under the impression that you're weak. I'd call her an overweight Chihuahua that feels like it needs to dominate everything," Carmen said, "Now that she's gotten a taste of a real dog's bite, she won't try anything without a bigger pack."

"Sounds like something out of Dog Whisperer," Zoey said.

"Might be. I used to watch it with my dad," Carmen grinned and took another gulp of her drink, "My mom's allergic to dogs, so when I was little, he'd pretend to be the dog and I'd be Cesar Millan. I always wound up riding him around the house."

"Sounds nice."

"It was."

Zoey didn't ask what happened. Carmen's gaze lingered on nothing, as if the coffee shop scenery was a phantom. Whatever she saw - a home, happy and loving, perhaps? - brought out a sorrow in her eyes, one that intensified her beauty. It was vulnerability, a chance for Zoey to take charge and comfort her, perhaps insert herself as a potential girlfriend. But she remained motionless, quiet and patient as Carmen left her memory.

"So, uh, I've got a big race coming up," Zoey said.

"Oh?" Carmen arched an eyebrow, "Leave it to the school not to advertise it."

"Well, it's not that big. It's more like a local thing, a warmup. If I win, though, I might get to participate in bigger events."

"Or get scouted," Carmen said, "No one knows who watches these things."

"I doubt it," Zoey said, "Even if I do well, they'll look into my history."

"They won't care what Gretchen made you do. People like that only want results."

"It's not that. I've never won a race before. Or even topped," Zoey said.

"How?" Carmen blinked at the statement.

"I... uh... just never did."

Carmen let it go. She took several gulps of coffee, as did Zoey, before going wide-eyed, "Sorry, Zoey. My shift starts in a few seconds."

"Wait!" Zoey blurted as Carmen stood, lashing out to grasp her by the wrist. The position had her leaning forward, face an inch shy of the honour student's captivating bust. Her masculinity cried out for her to close that distance and get a feel for how soft those mounds were, to sample them before she sank too far into her infatuation. It went unheeded.

"Um, I was wondering, uh, if you... and I could go... go out? Like, on a date?" Each word was a struggle. She forced them out through sheer willpower, despite the frantic quiver building in her legs. Carmen blushed and slipped free.

"Sorry, I'm already dating someone. See you tomorrow," the stacked teen said and walked away. She didn't turn back, which was just as well, since it allowed Zoey to stare, frustrated and intoxicated, at Carmen's delicious rear. Each cheek rose and fell with her steps, hypnotic. She stepped behind the counter and hugged the owner, whose monumental chest mashed into Carmen's. They lingered for longer than any normal co-workers would.

Zoey downed the last of her coffee and left. She returned home, intent on masturbating to relieve her frustrations. Give her a break! How was it that she still couldn't get what she wanted? She'd punched Gretchen, talked to Carmen and even broached the subject of a relationship, and still she was unattainable. Not in the sense of a celebrity. Carmen was simply taken.

How could Zoey compare to someone like that shop owner? The athlete was exactly as her speciality needed her to be. She was slender and strong, curveless save for a gentle swell to her hips and breasts. It was sad to say, but the curviest portion of her body was her cock and balls. That owner wouldn't have one. She couldn't. That alone was Zoey's sole advantage. But Carmen was gay, that much was obvious. She likely didn't have any interest in someone with a dick.

There were plenty of others, though. Zoey told herself as she shut the front door to her home. Open mindedness was everywhere now. Dozens of women would want to at least experience a relationship with her, if nothing else but to brag about how endowed Zoey is. She only needed to put herself out there, on a dating site for weird fetishes or something, or sneak into a lesbian bar and pull in someone.

Gretchen made sex sound like the greatest time of her life. That would distract her from Carmen. If she found someone who loved her, cock and all, then why would she need her? Zoey would forget about the honour student. Forget about her supple curves, how her scrappy clothes drew all the attention to her gorgeous face, the sculpted nose, plush lips and fathomless eyes. She'd even forget the fantasies of Carmen's naked form.

"Fuck!" Zoey snapped and ran to her room. Porn. That would solve it. She just had to find a star even more beautiful than Carmen, someone to captivate her. Even if they were unreachable, it was better than lusting after someone so close.

"Something wrong?"

Zoey stopped at her door and looked to Megan, who stood in the hallway, a recently used bowl in hand. The older sister was dressed as lazily as ever; a tank top that ended at her ribcage and a pair of loose sweatpants, too long for her legs.

"No," Zoey said, thankful for the annoyance pervading her thoughts. Even lacking her usual malice, Megan intimidated her.

"I've known you all your life. I know when something's up," Megan said and set the bowl down. She clapped a hand on Zoey's back and pushed her into the room, then led her to the bed, "So, what's up?" Megan asked. She sat down and leaned back, eyes on her younger sibling.

"Don't act like you care."

"Alright. What's up?"

"Why do you want to know?" Zoey said, a glint of anger seeping into her tone. One apology didn't mean Megan could act like a sister again. Not so suddenly. It didn't make sense. At all.

"Guilt?" Megan shrugged and fell back to lay atop Zoey's bed, stretching her shorter, curvier form, "I dunno. Just figured I'd quit being the bitch here. Looks like you want to try it out."

"What?" Zoey blinked and raised her eyes from Megan's body. How long had she been staring? In lieu of an answer, her cock throbbed within her jeans, shoving against the strap. A shudder of revulsion sprinted down her spine. Unnatural urges hissed within her mind. Eve had been tempted by one snake, now Zoey felt as if a hive of the slithery bastards were coiling within her thoughts, all whispering to her. All commenting that Megan might be that woman to distract her. The taboo only made it better.

"Never mind," Megan said and sat up. She hunched forward, unencumbered breasts falling to her thighs, mashing into them. Creamy flesh bulged from the sides of her top, smooth and enticing, like the most decadent sundae Zoey had seen, "It's a boy, isn't it?"

"Um," Zoey twisted away from her.

"A girl?" Megan asked. Not teased. No, her voice was soft, understanding. Zoey peeked back at her, and away again instantly, "Hey, it's alright. I'm bi anyway, so I get it."

"Yeah, I know," Zoey said, thoughts flashing to the infrequent times when two women were moaning in Megan's room, without any boys around. Back then, she'd felt indifferent to her sister's constant flow of lovers, and still did about the guys, but the women were another matter. Her stomach flopped and her cock stiffened as she imagined how another pussy might feel. How it would taste. How it would look bathed in spunk.

Worst of all, she didn't imagine her sister's friends now. All she saw was Carmen. Or Megan. Or, worse yet, Gretchen. Those two were always together.

"If you need someone to talk to about it, let me know. People always give us crap," Megan said, "Even if you already slept with them. I had this one chick from high school, horrible personality, incredible lay. She went around telling everyone what a fucking carpet muncher I was. She was partly right, just omitted how often she joined me. But I digress. The point is, I know people are assholes and they always will be. So... I get it."

"Thanks," Zoey said, still turned away. Megan sighed and left, unaware of her younger sister's eyes watching her ass leave the room. Door shut, alone and breathless under the weight of her swelling desires, Zoey unbuckled her belt and freed her cock, then bound it with her hand. Few things compared to the heft of holding a dick, one over a foot in length and a matched in girth, while her pussy engorged and leaked. She slid a hand under her sweaty balls and entered her snatch as she stroked her length. Until dinner, she was devoted to her body.

Tomorrow came sooner than she wanted. Sleep came and went like a fantasy, the kind that was so great but elusive that she tried to latch onto, only to miss each time. What little sleep she got was swiftly interrupted by another errant fantasy. It fled by the time she woke up, leaving its mark on her sheets. Her cock, despite having cum almost a dozen times that day, refused to go soft during the night.

It was Carmen's fault. And Megan's, and Gretchen's. They wouldn't leave her thoughts be. One moment, her consciousness coasted on the memory of running, the next second and she was suddenly facing Carmen, Megan or Gretchen. Sometimes all three. Lewdness tainted everything from there.

They'd make out with her, or one another or skip it and strip for Zoey's viewing pleasure. If she was under at the time, the dream would persist until she was on the verge of orgasm, then she woke up. She refused to masturbate, even as her cock throbbed and twitched, trapped on the brink, determined to get some sleep.

Now she walked downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a dull thud. She'd almost forgotten to put on sweatpants to hide her phallus. Her parents were already gone, having been called in early, leaving her the company of Megan, who occupied herself with a bowl of cereal. The lazy sister was dressed for socialising; a low cut shirt, push-up bra and a pair of shorts designed to hug her curves.

"Plans for today?" Zoey asked as she dragged the box and a bowl toward her.

"Got a job interview," Megan said.

Zoey blinked, "You?"

"I've been looking. I told you 'I'm done being the bitch'. So, it's work for me, and maybe a boyfriend too," Megan said, winking at her sister. Anger bubbled beneath Zoey's skin, not at her sister for turning over a new leaf so abruptly - that was a welcome change, even if it might turn out to be false - but for the idea of some boy having her. Sleep deprivation and denying herself an orgasm for the entire night were taking their toll.

"Hmm," Zoey stood and grabbed the milk, hoping to hide her emotions.

"Didn't sleep last night?" Megan asked, coming to the nearby sink. An arm's length separated them. Zoey sniffed and caught her sister's perfume, a blend of mango and lime she believed. It was Zoey's favourite from when they were younger, even now she still enjoyed the smell.

"No," Zoey said and rubbed at the crust still around her eyes. She shot a quick sidelong glare at her sibling, who, though unintentionally, had disrupted her sleep time and again.

"I know a few yoga poses that help with it," Megan said, and added, "No, really. They work."

"Uh huh," Zoey mumbled and returned to the table to eat her breakfast. Megan came to stand behind her, "What're you... oh!" Megan's hands found her shoulders and worked them, massaging all the tension from her muscles. Since when did her sister know this? A pleasant sigh escaped Zoey's lips as she relaxed. It might have been forced on her, but the sense of leisure was welcome all the same.

Megan's hands slipped lower, across her shoulder blades and to the bunched up muscles at the base of her spine. Zoey slouched forward, breakfast forgotten.

"I know a lot of massages," Megan said, leaning down to press her ponderous chest into Zoey's back, lips close to the athlete's ears, "I've been trying them out on some friends. They always... come back for another."

"Yeah?" Zoey sighed.

"Especially when I do... this," Megan's magical fingers left her skin and danced across Zoey's stomach, down to her thighs. Before she could snap her legs shut, Megan's fingertip brushed the bulge of her cock. The two separated. Zoey remained frozen in her chair, eyes bulging in terror. A clear space of milk reflected her expression, and that of Megan from behind her.

"What the fuck, Zoey?" Megan asked. She wasn't angry, or her voice didn't betray any. Rather, it sounded like she was hurt.

"What, uh... what do you mean?" The familiar chill was back. Her body was shrinking.

"Don't bullshit me," Megan grabbed the chair and turned it around, scraping across the floor.

Zoey forced her head up, clawing against the chains her fear shackled her with. She expected fury, cruelty or at least horror on her sister's face. Not the hurt or betrayal that was present instead.

"You should've told me," Megan said and pulled her own chair close, "When'd you start transitioning?"

"I... Megan, do you really think I'd still look like this and have a penis?" Zoey frowned, uncertain of her sister's intelligence.

Megan shrugged, "I've heard of stranger things."

"I guess," Zoey mumbled. The chill was fading.