Mary resisted the urge to adjust herself as she strode into the school. Gretchen followed her, teasing Ashley and Zoey while Rachel skulked along behind them. None of them were paying attention to her, though the rest of the student body kept her in sight constantly. She knew they were wary of her, rightfully so, yet it didn't empower or inspire her as it had before. Instead, it made her heart drum fearfully.
She forced her head to stay upright and confident. No one could know about the terror that loomed over her, like a cloud that wreathed her in uncertainty. A freshman caught her eye and hastily looked away. Did she know? Mary ground her teeth together and kept her hands at her sides. It's not obvious, it's not obvious, it's not obvious. She repeated the mantra in her mind.
"What about you, Mary?" Gretchen popped up, startling the blonde.
"About what?" Mary responded and tried to keep her expression neutral.
"I think we should take a few days off school while Ashley's parents are away for business," Gretchen began, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.
"Not again, Gretchen," Ashley whined, "It took the maids all night to clean up after last time. And I... I really don't want to see any of that again."
"Of course not," Gretchen derided with a roll of her eyes, "You're gonna join in this time. I've got a bunch of guys with a thing for fat chicks."
"I'm not fat," Ashley weakly objected.
"Sorry, 'curvy' girls," Gretchen amended, briefly showing a soft smile, "Either way, they go nuts for a nice, plump girl like you."
"I don't really care," Ashley insisted.
"Bah," Gretchen dismissed her and turned to Zoey, "What about you, Zoey? You've got a fuck-ton of stamina, right?"
"Uh... um, no comment?" Zoey shirked away, slipping back to practically hide behind Rachel, despite being almost two feet taller than the petite redhead.
"For the record, I couldn't give a shit," Rachel shrugged.
"What's with everyone?" Gretchen groaned, "We're seniors, it's time that we get fucking laid as often as possible."
"College would be better for that," Mary reasoned, "All those hunks milling around the campus, eager for freshman pussy..."
"That's true," Gretchen smirked, "But still..."
"What about a sleepover tonight?" Ashley offered, "No guys, no sex... no drugs," she stared pointedly at Gretchen, who raised her hands innocently, "Just us girls."
"Could be fun," Zoey offered.
"I wouldn't mind," Rachel, again, shrugged.
"Sure," Mary reluctantly agreed. If she declined this seemingly innocent offer to hang around her friends without any just reason, then they'd know something was wrong, "Besides, you've got a few cute butlers, don't you Ashley?" The rich girl blushed but nodded.
"Fine," Gretchen sighed, "I'll see you boring bitches at lunch." Daughter of the principal or not, Gretchen was incapable of staying out of class and school without permission. Not that she put any effort into her classes. There was no reason to. Her report card always read 'straight A's' with no difficulty during lessons. Mostly thanks to the plump, rich girl that followed Mary like a stray dog desperate for attention or a scrap of food. No teacher would decline their salary being doubled to turn the cheek for a few students.
Mary soon came to her classroom. She ducked inside, glancing briefly at her group. Her eyes strayed to Ashley's naturally abundant chest, the shirt strained around a pair of breasts that more than suited her plump figure. They bounced with the girl's stride, capturing Mary's attention before they went out of sight, yet that only brought Ashley's equally boastful rear into view. Stockings disappeared up the skirt that was stretched around the cheeks.
She's actually kind of hot. Mary shook her head and dug her long, meticulous nails into her palms to break the beginnings of her arousal. Even so, what little of her body that was concealed burned. It was better than the cold, she thought in the hopes of distracting herself. The blonde strutted into the classroom and to her seat, ignoring the stares that affixed themselves to her expensive assets.
Her shoulders were bare as was her belly. It wasn't unusual for her to wear such attire during the summer, or at a club, but this was winter. The season had bit at her skin and snaked its way into her meagre clothes, both as a blessing and a means of torture. On one hand, her cock would shrink away from the chill, on the other her nipples pushed and rubbed against her shirt.
Mary kept her eyes down at her phone, afraid to look around and spot someone attractive. It had been two days since her rashes had gotten worse. The lotion did nothing. Rather, it only made her hornier. The sight of her body glistening and how it felt for her hands to glide along her skin, particularly her cock, never failed to spark a long session of self-indulgence.
Mary sighed in resignation as she glanced at her shorts. They only just grazed her mid-thigh, a dangerous territory; one slip and her skin would turn bright red from the usually light tan. Within them, however, was something far deadlier to her. A cock that had only grown ridiculously over the past forty-eight hours. She could see the faint bulge of it despite her relatively baggy shorts.
"You got something to say?" Mary growled, glancing sideways at a gawking girl. She was the archetypal nerd, though more akin to main characters in movie; awkward looking, yet irrefutably gorgeous beneath the nerdy exterior. The blonde tightened her jaw as she peaked at the girl's plentiful tits, only a couple of sizes below Ashley's.
"S-sorry," the awkward, curvy girl quickly stammered and returned her attention to the blackboard, stuffing her hands under the desk to grab at her legs worriedly. Mary unconsciously licked her lips as the girl inadvertently mashed her breasts together, pushing them out further.
"Fuck," Mary sighed. She caught herself and jerked her head back to her phone, vehemently scrolling through Twitter for anything to clear her traitorous mind. Was it really a traitor though? She wondered as one leg bounced nervously. Mary wouldn't think that she was unattracted to women, it was just that guys had something she'd valued highly before. Now that thing was in her possession. What did a man have that she wanted anymore?
She's quieted down. Carmen noted as she glanced behind her at the artificially curvy blonde that sat toward the back of the class, a far cry from her usual frontward seat. The honour student had arrived after Mary to find her preferred seat was taken. A lot had apparently changed since Carmen wrote in the book for the third time. Though Mary's cruelty was still largely present, she seemed hesitant about participating in it. Most of her usual victims were handled by Gretchen at Mary's insistence.
"Perhaps she's a sadist?" Ryuka chuckled, her brilliant red eyes once again seeming to read Carmen's thoughts.
"Maybe," Carmen sighed, glancing tiredly at the Seikogami, "Though I'm surprised that someone like her would figure it out so soon." She added under her breath, careful to avoid catching anyone's attention.
"Appearances aren't always what they seem... isn't that something you humans say?" Ryuka offered, floating down to hover in front of the human.
"Only when appearances matter," Carmen muttered, peeking disparagingly at the secret futa. Surprising or not, Mary deserved to be what was done to her and anything further that happened. Just because she wasn't actively participating in her usual antics made no difference. Carmen returned her focus to her studies.
Perhaps she was the embodiment of what Ryuka had said now; a seemingly normal girl with a high GPA that hid something certifiably insane. Even now, with her eyes buried in her notebook, the Futa Note nipped at her consciousness like an attention starved puppy. Carmen breathed slowly, calming her thoughts. What was done, was done, and it was for the better, she thought.
"Carmen Robins?" The teacher said, trudging into the classroom with barely a glance at the students, despite being late.
"Yes?" Carmen frowned, raising her head. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? The honour student scoured her brain, trying to make certain. There was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from being able to avoid Mary and her group.
"The principal would like to you see in her office. Get going," the instructor pointed to the door without so much as a glimpse at Carmen.
"Okay," Carmen intoned, still perplexed by this turn of events, "Any reason why?"
"How should I know?"
"Helpful as always," Carmen mumbled and packed away her stuff. She twisted her head around to peer at Mary, and caught a brief glimpse of her gaze, before the blonde swiftly lowered her head. It's not her doing, Carmen thought. That only made it harder to ascertain why she was being called in. There hadn't been any tests recently, nor had she done anything particularly outstanding in class either.
Carmen's brow remained furrowed even as she knocked on the principal's door. There was no secretary, her position terminated to save money, and only two cheap, plastic chairs functioned as the waiting area. Even the water dispenser was cracked and caked in rust, eerie drips falling into the lonely cup that waited for someone to try their luck with the waiting death trap. The door was only the only thing that looked remotely intimidating, painted a vibrant white with a simple, dull gold plaque reading 'Principal Blake's Office'.
"Come in."
"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Carmen inquired as she stepped inside, inwardly cringing at how the hinges creaked. The principal's office resembled the school to a degree. It was large and daunting, yet a keen glance revealed how poorly kept the room was. The floorboards squeaked beneath Carmen's feet as she approached the worn swivel chair, the wheels of which had long since ceased to work.
"Yes, my daughter has brought something rather worrying to my attention," Principal Blake began, setting aside a piece of paper onto a stock of others as if she were finished, yet Carmen could see that several parts of it were left blank. She sank into the broken chair and nodded for the principal to continue, "Apparently, you've been engaging in crass activities with another student."
"Crass activities, ma'am?" Carmen frowned, while she restrained herself from showing any disdain for Gretchen.
"Yes, crass. According to Gretchen, you've been sneaking into the lavatories with a 'Dakota Weiss' and doing unmentionable acts. I hope you understand, but I cannot allow such things to take place in this school. The other girls may be tainted by it."
"Dakota and I are just friends, ma'am," Carmen assured her, "Besides, I'm too busy for a relationship like that."
"Ah, yes," Principal Blake smiled and relaxed into her second-hand lavish chair, "Sorry, Carmen. But I can't afford to alienate any funders. Please understand?"
"Don't worry, I know," Carmen nodded, all too familiar with financial difficulties, "Should you really be working this hard, though?" She nodded to the stack of incomplete papers, then glanced at the weathered face of this woman who was no older than forty.
