Futanari Notebook Ch. 17

"So, when were you planning to tell mom and dad?"

"Never," Zoey said, "I'm not... I'm not trans."

"All I know is, I remember you being a girl last time I saw you naked, and now I definitely felt a dick. So what happened? Take some steroids or something?"

"No!" Zoey snapped, "I'm still a girl. I'm still me. I just have a penis now."

"Prove it," Megan said.

"Prove what?"

"That you're still a girl. You've gotta still have a vagina to be girl, right?"

"There're shemales."

"Yeah, but they're more like girly boys who identify as women. I spend a lot of time on the internet, Zoey. I know my shit."

"Can't always trust the internet," Zoey said.

"True. So, you gonna prove it?" Megan urged.

"I... fine," Zoey sighed, defeated. Maybe if she showed this off and Megan reverted to her old, abusive self then any desire she felt would disappear? She hoped so.

Zoey stood and turned away, then dropped her pants. She didn't have any underwear on; they kept getting soaked in pre-cum during the night. Only as she bent over, legs slightly parted, that she questioned why she gave in so easily. She had nothing to prove to Megan, or to herself, and it wasn't fear that made her reach back to part her cheeks. Then what?

Megan answered her unspoken question with a soft gasp. Warmth returned to Zoey. She swallowed a hum of approval as embers spread throughout her form. They were flickers of pride and growth, the former almost as familiar as when she shrank. Satisfied, Zoey stood and faced her sister, who clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Happy?" Zoey asked.

"I... yeah. Yeah, I am. Jesus, where'd you hide that thing?"

Zoey didn't answer. She forced her face into a flat expression, betraying none of the rising embarrassment and traitorous desire bubbling inside, as she pulled her pants back up. Now someone knew. It was inevitable, of course, but she'd hoped it would be Carmen, or at least someone she felt could be trusted. Rachel was a close second.

"Hey! I was looking at that," Megan complained and went for Zoey's pants, but the athlete, her body restored and augmented, danced away from her. It was a hopeless endeavour on Megan's part, though she was nothing if not persistent. She chased Zoey throughout the kitchen, trying to cut her off, failing, then attempting another tactic. None worked in the face of Zoey's athleticism, as she sashayed around Megan's grabbing hands. Before long, both forgot the point and were laughing.

"Ugh, fine! You win, you win!" Megan said and slumped into a chair. A smile clashed with her brattish tone. Zoey also sat, reciprocating the grin. Sweat gleamed on their skin, it sucked their clothes to their skin, highlighting each other's figures, though Megan's was superior in curves.

"Come on, just let me see it again. I've never seen one that big before," Megan said.

Zoey was on a high. She was winded from running in short bursts, heart palpitating in her chest and endorphins sailing through her veins. But that wasn't the reason for her grin, or why she relented once more. They'd chased each other like that when they were kids, sometimes to rescue a toy or just for the fun of it, and Megan had always won. By the time Zoey outgrew her, Megan had ended the game. Any attempt to resuscitate it on Zoey's part went unheeded. It inspired a new credence to Megan apparent reformation.

So she dropped her pants once more and let Megan have her fun. The older sister scooted closer and leaned down to inspect the slab of meat, for it lacked any better description. Zoey hadn't seen any others herself, only a few online, even so she knew they didn't compare to hers. Not when the covered crown rested halfway down her thigh. On her legs that meant more than most.

She couldn't guess how tall she was, but it was safe to bet her legs were at least three feet long. From hip to knee was about a foot and a half of space, and her phallus hung at half that. Approximately nine inches of flaccid masculinity made feminine by virtue of being attached to her form. Zoey's smirk widened.

Megan cursed under her breath as she studied it, hands coiling over each other with a barely restrained desire to touch it. She had plenty of lovers to her name, yet she was overwhelmed by this single cock, attached to her sister no less. For the moment, it laid dormant. An elegant network of blue veins worked underneath the thick skin, ready and waiting for an inevitable erection, all leading to the uncircumcised head. They began from the base, where a set of terrifying balls rested.

"I thought trannies were supposed to be small," Megan said.

"I'm not a tranny. You know that," Zoey said, watching her. The elation had faded now, replaced with confusion at her sibling's closing proximity. Still, she didn't move, even as Megan's breaths reached her member. If they were together in that way, Zoey wouldn't have a chance to worry over her feelings for Carmen, or about any other relationship. They'd be sneaking around everywhere, covering for one another, taking comfort at night or when they were together and no one knew them.

It didn't sound like a bad idea. They were sisters, so they knew each other better than most couples ever could, and they already lived together. Solace from stress or Gretchen was one door down from her room. If they were together like that.

"Megan..." Zoey said and stopped, seeing the phone in Megan's hand. The elder sibling leaned back and snapped a picture, just as the horror of it all dawned on Zoey, her face going slack as she stared at the lens.

"Can't wait to post this," Megan giggled, "What'll everyone think when they see my sister's so fucking hung."

"Don't!" Zoey shouted and lashed out. She stood, reaching for the phone. Her fingers brushed it, but her pants caught around her ankles and tripped her. The tiled floor halted her crash with a loud smack. Her vision swam and recovered. It wasn't a serious fall; her hand had caught her just in time.

"Sorry, already done. Thanks for sharing sis," Megan said and strolled out. The front door opened and shut.

Zoey put her phone on silent. It was a few minutes after Megan had posted it, but already her phone was blaring with notifications, mostly from Twitter, compliments of Gretchen's followers. Another minute later and she deleted the app. Everyone knew. Not just the school, but all the college kids Megan talked to, and even their parents. That meant questions, doctor appointments, possibly being withdrawn from the race on Wednesday next week.

Anxiety didn't linger for long, however. The beast curled into a ball in its cage, embracing its new shackles like a koala, as another monster stepped into the space of Zoey's mind. It wasn't a dog. No, this was a wolf. It didn't curl in her lap, didn't adore her. It was there to fuel her emotions then leave.

Zoey got dressed and headed for school. Carmen had told her to stay out for a couple of days, to avoid Gretchen, but Gretchen was exactly who she wanted to see. The sooner the better. Everyone knew Zoey by reputation, not as a runner, but as the principal's daughter's Pitbull. That was gone, of course. What kind of queen bee could tolerate being associated with someone like her? So she intended to lay that rumour to rest, and perhaps spark a new one.

As what? Some kind of valiant hero who fought against Gretchen's tyranny? Absolutely not. This was for herself. If Gretchen thought she was still a pushover, then that needed to be rectified. Even she wouldn't go after someone who could defend themselves, hence why the few students who took martial arts classes were left alone.

"Zoey Parker, the principal wants to see you," a teacher told her after she stepped inside. Zoey scowled down at them, but headed to the office. Getting expelled made it even better. One less thing to worry about when she saw Gretchen. People sneered at her and she returned the expression. Fire crackled within each of her extremities, elongating them, empowering her.

"You wanted to see me?" Zoey asked, stepping into Principal Blake's office. It was a mess, wholly unlike the intimidating organisation she expected. Papers were scattered about the floor and the bookshelves along the walls had mismatched collections along the rows. At its centre was a desk, the epicentre of disruption. Principal Blake sat there, haggard and slouched forward, head in her hands.

"Yes, thank you, Zoey," she said and straightened her back. Heavy bags lined her eyes, like brutal bruises a boxer might own, "Take a seat. Now, the reason I called you here, is that picture." Zoey said nothing. The simmering well of anger kept her controlled.

"It doesn't exist," Principal Blake said, though her voice was more a sigh now, as if she was caught between speaking and yawning at all times, "You're going to race next week. You're going to win."

"Why?" Zoey asked. Her expressionless mask cracked a bit, revealing the confusion underneath.

"This school needs some notoriety. It's on the verge of closure," the principal said, gaze sweeping over the mess of paperwork, "Aside from you and Carmen and Gretchen, we have no exceptional students. So, I need..."

"You realise Gretchen isn't here most days, right?" Zoey said. The words escaped her like bile.

"What? Of course she is. Her attendance is perfect."

Zoey was too far in now. If she could convince Principal Blake of Gretchen's disgusting nature, then everything might improve, "Ma'am, you're being taken advantage of. Gretchen's here for maybe an hour every day. I should know. She drags me around with her. Ever wondered why your credit cards are always rejected?"

"No, that's not right," Principal Blake sifted through a drawer, a deep frown highlighting the wrinkles of her face. She looked older than forty, closer to her mid or later fifties. Grey streaks ran through her hair, and her sunken eyes were framed in deep, solemn lines.

"Don't bother," Zoey sighed, "Sorry. May I go now?"

"Uh, yes. Thank you," Principal Blake said and hunched forward, relieved to have one task over with. She looked ready to pass out the moment she got too comfortable. Zoey left before her pity could overwhelm her patient rage.

What was Gretchen putting that women through? Zoey wondered as she strolled down the hall, heading to Gretchen's first, and usually only lesson, of the day. People didn't age like the principal without considerable stress, which didn't come from simply running a dying school. There was no sign that she was working to revitalise the place beyond her daughter's selfish demands.

"You little fucking shit!" That venom was as famous as any cobra's. Zoey turned in the hall and abandoned her thoughts to see Gretchen a few feet away, backed by half a dozen girls. They were the biggest in the school, which didn't say much. No one in Saint Puella was allowed to go overweight. Another reason it was failing.

Zoey pulled the leash from her rage. She'd allowed it to surface briefly yesterday, when she had punched Gretchen, almost breaking her nose in the process. A faint bruise marked where her fist had landed. Zoey strode over to the group, glad that Rachel wasn't among them. Aside from Gretchen, they were the tallest in the school, all of them an inch or two below six feet.

One had broad shoulders and defined arms, another possessed a cruel sneer and clear abs, the rest followed a similar vein. They were pulled together at the last minute. For one purpose. The dog that was Zoey's anxiety whimpered at the promise of pain that awaited her, but the massive wolf howled in jubilation. It was a fighter. Blood, pain and exhilaration were what it craved. And here stood seven willing sacrifices to give it exactly that.

One opened her mouth. Zoey pushed aside any doubt, she wouldn't get expelled, not when Principal Blake needed her to win that race, and punched. She'd taken a couple of boxing classes in middle school, when the bullying got worse. It didn't take. She always ran and hid from the fights, so she settled for track. Even so, she still remember how to throw a punch.

One of the pack fell in shock. Another went to tackle Zoey and got a fist in the face. Then the rest were on her, Gretchen on the side lines, kicking whenever Zoey presented the opportunity. It wasn't the drawn out beating that some movies portrayed. This was over in seconds. Zoey was helpless against six scrappy girls, plus one spoiled brat. They soon knocked her unconscious, though not before she'd left several of their faces bloody and swollen.

"Hey?"

Zoey opened her eyes and squinted. She was in a bed, looking at a filthy ceiling that was once white. There was no one around to clean it, not since the janitorial staff were fired. One remained, but one elderly man wouldn't do much. This was the nurse's room, though it was a dismal representation. One bed, no privacy or door, and no nurse. She only worked three days a week, sometimes two.

But there was someone there. Zoey frowned and focused on them. It was Carmen. Of course it was. Who else would help her? Rachel was stuck maintaining appearances as Gretchen's friend, and Ashley was no better. Mary or Dakota might've helped, though.

"Hey," Zoey said.

"So much for laying low, huh?" Carmen teased. Zoey was silent. She swept her gaze across Carmen's form, drinking her in like a plant after a drought. What god decided that this girl should be so beautiful, so smart and caring that she would drive Zoey to get into a fight?

"What happened?" Carmen asked.

"I got angry," Zoey stated.

"I noticed," Carmen said, "I tried stepping in, but half the school was there."

"Thanks," Zoey said and turned away.

"Why'd you go mad?"

"No reason."

"Okay," Carmen said, her tone doubtful, "You've gotten a lot bigger, I see."

"What?" Zoey snapped her head around, then looked down at herself. Her arm was a in a sling, not broken, but it would be a few days before it healed. There were no other injuries of that nature that she could see. Even so, her height change overshadowed any pain. Her feet hung off the bed, and she was sat up. Granted, the bed was small, a throw away from a paediatrician's office.

"I'd say about seven feet," Carmen said, answering the question Zoey hadn't thought of yet.

Zoey didn't have words for it, "Whoa," came out, yet it didn't aptly describe the scene before her.

"I've gotta go. Second period is starting soon."

"Carmen, wait!" Zoey said and reached out, grabbing the honour student's hand. She released it an instant later, "I... Look, I know you're with someone and everything, but... I love you." Perhaps the hesitation had been knocked from her brain in the fight, or maybe the wolf had imprinted some of itself on the dog, regardless of the reason, she had finally said them; those words that had tormented her for just a few days that felt like years.

"Zoey," Carmen said and looked around, as if for a script or something, "Look, I'm flattered, but it's not... Sorry. The thing is, I'm only in the relationship I have right now because it works for me. I can't afford to take time off work or studies for dates. I can't talk on the phone. I can't even text freely. That's my situation. Stacy and I work together, so I can see and talk to her pretty much whenever without losing anything. And I need school to study. If I was with something else, well, I don't see it working."

"I know," Zoey said and looked down at herself, "Have you heard the rumour about me?"

"What rumour?"

"That I have a dick," Zoey said and glanced at Carmen. Shock flitted across her face, but not the same way it had for Megan. This was a different expression of surprise, not the kind meant for a stunning reveal such as Zoey's, but rather a shock that she would freely admit it. Or was it not that amazing? Mary had one after all. Did having a cock mean nothing anymore?

"Do you?" Carmen asked, sooner than most might have.

"Yes," Zoey whispered, still unsure what to make of Carmen's response.

"Why tell me?" Carmen asked.

"Because you... because you're the only one I can trust, besides Rachel. You don't make fun of people. I've seen you. You helped Mary and Dakota. No one else did. Do you have any idea how few people like you there are?" Zoey asked, and took her hand again, this time holding it firm.

Her words were both an affirmation to herself that Carmen was somehow perfection made human, and an attempt to justify why she was so infatuated. Who wouldn't be when faced with someone so kind? So merciful they'd help people who once tormented them? So beautiful that even the anger that had contorted her features when they first met couldn't hide it?

"I'm not a good person," Carmen said, so soft Zoey almost missed it. A flash of guilt clouded her dazzling eyes.

"Yes, you are," Zoey affirmed. Something within urged her to grip harder, to squeeze out every drop of sorrow that tainted this stunning woman. No, they didn't taint her, Zoey thought. Those eyes wallowed in something like sorrow, but it wasn't. It was beauty as well. Part of her wondered if Carmen was incapable of anything less, another argued why she should even care.

"Fine," Carmen said and withdrew her hand, "I'm a good person. What's your point?"

"Nothing," Zoey said, "I just wanted you to know how I felt. Did I mention you're beautiful?"

That got a different reaction. Carmen's hands jerked toward her face, froze part way and dropped. A slight smile graced her lips.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Carmen said, "That said... I'm not above bribery."

"What do you mean?"

"Win that race next week, and you'll see."

"That's not really bribery is it?"

"It is, but think of it as more of an incentive. Even if you get given a hard time, you'd better win. I'll give you a reward," Carmen said, a subtle flare in her eyes. Not of anger or shame, but of seduction.

Zoey's cock twitched beneath the covers. She chuckled as Carmen left the room, "How can I say no?"