Carmen glanced back around the corner, watching Zoey leave the short redhead of Gretchen's group. Rachel, if she recalled. They were of equivocal height, though the tanned girl still retained a couple of inches on her friend. How long would that last? She resumed her path to the classroom, doubtful that she could help more than she already had, not without telling Zoey the truth. Dread oozed from the idea of someone discovering what she had done.
As per usual, Carmen stepped into the horrid excuse for a classroom. Desks sat in three columns and four rows, crowding the space not allowed for the teacher to move. It was fortunate that most girls at Saint Puella had average builds, otherwise they might be trapped between desks. Facing them all, was the teacher's once ornate, now vandalised desk, above which a chipped and dusty whiteboard hung. Carmen ignored them and the ominous creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet and took her usual seat beside a window.
Dakota sat to her right. The half-German had turned a new leaf in the recent months. Her lackadaisical nature vanished, leaving in its place an above average student, ready to learn and enrich her life. It was a shame she must do so in Saint Puella. Carmen glanced at her friend, who had a new notebook sat out before her. Silver patterns decorated the covers and framed her name.
She glanced to her vacant desk. Her bag laid against its inner leg, deflated save for the Futa Note and a mandatory pen, there in case she stumbled upon another notebook, ideally one without lewd and world conquering powers. For the meantime, she would rely on Dakota and her own brain to note anything of interest. They had a substitute today, so the chances were increased, but slim nonetheless.
The teacher entered minutes after Carmen. He was a scruffy gentleman, with a worn suit that looked better suited for the dead and a dishevelled beard, which compensated for the greasy dome of his head. Carmen grimaced at the sight of him and turned her head away. Why she thought Ms. Blake would spend the time and money on a decent sub was beyond her.
Her gaze lingered on the outside world. With Winter at an end, the sparse trees dotted across the school grounds slowly flourished once more, as did the patches of grass. A new beginning for nature, yet her life remained the same. If not worse.
No. Carmen dismissed the notion. What Gretchen did was horrible, enough that her anger seethed at the mere image of her, but silver linings existed in everything, so long as she looked hard enough. This time, all it took was a name; Stacy. Carmen both adored and hated the warmth that name brought her.
Adored, for it dispelled the despair of sitting in a class of strangers. Hated, for the desire it fuelled. Her legs pressed together, concealing her panties from view. Her arousal had become bolder of late, rearing its seductive head to seep from her pussy and swell her tender clit, and pushing upon her the visage of her newfound friends, unrequited guest and girlfriend at even the slightest moment of frailty. Carmen sighed and laid her chin in her palm at the thought of Stacy.
She didn't have work yesterday. Today would be the first time seeing the bountiful coffee lover since their date, since they'd come close to breaking every code of employee-employer conduct, since she'd caught a glimpse of heaven in those ripe, milky tits. She latched her spare arm to the side of her desk. Carmen bit her bottom lip, hoping to absolve her urges through pain.
Why did life have to be so complex? She wondered, staring down toward the simplistic Earth below, though she supposed all lifeforms were the same in one way or another. They all sought nutrients in the easiest, most plentiful way. It was humans, however, that had to complicate such a simple matter. If she was a dog, she could be adopted into a loving home, fed without her own concerns and petted at any moment. Or if she was a cat, she would wonder between homes and feed off their kindness.
Of course, her solution stayed with her always. Locked away behind a Velcro seal in a tattered bag, it exuded temptation, black tendrils made of smoke and ash writhed within, eager to be released and slither into Carmen's thoughts. Even trapped, wisps of their forms floated into her. Carmen glanced to the substitute teacher. Please let him have something of interest. Anything to distract her. To cull her thoughts of surrender.
He had nothing. Just another bumbling fool who stammered and muttered his way through a haphazard lesson plan left behind. She could fix that. Make him a futa with a respectable job, IQ and hygiene. Who would care?
She would. Carmen's grip turned fatal, imprinting her grasp into the withered desk. To her side, Dakota glance over in worry.
"You alright?" She asked.
"Yes," Carmen said, monotone in her focus. It was harder than ever since she'd turned Zoey, worse than yesterday even, as if her caged frustrations and temptations had begun to overflow from their prison. She wanted Stacy. She wanted to transform someone. She wanted relief.
"Hey," Dakota reached over and took her whitened hand, "It'll be okay."
"You don't even know what I'm thinking about," Carmen said.
"No, but I know you're stressed. I could help? Not like that, obviously. Unless you want to?"
"No," Carmen shook her head. A grin crept onto her face. What Dakota lacked in independency, she made up for in observation.
"Worth a shot. Anyway, I did some massage classes back in middle school. I could give you a shoulder rub," Dakota offered.
"That... actually, that sounds great," Carmen said. She relaxed her grip, grateful for the distraction.
"And I'm more than happy to give happy endings," Dakota added with an unsubtle wink.
"On second thought..." Carmen trailed off.
"I was joking," Dakota chuckled, "Well, not really. The offer's always there."
"Yeah, you've made that abundantly clear," Carmen said, "Thanks, Dakota."
"No problem," the tanned futa leaned back in her chair and reclaimed her hand. Her arms fell lax at her side, unperturbed by any worries, "It's what friends are for."
Carmen did the same. She let her arms hang loose, no tension or restraint, and sat there. Had she ever done this before, laid back without an iota of consideration for the class at hand? It was oddly liberating, though it couldn't last. Once she'd replaced her books, she would make up for lost time. Finals were only a few months away, even the sole straight-A student couldn't afford to relax for too long. Tragedies did happen after all.
Loud shouts carried up to her ears from outside. P.E? No, they usually had indoor classes that day. She righted her posture and checked out the window. Gretchen stepped into view, carrying Zoey underarm while Ashley assisted with her legs. The athlete, once so tall she could at least avoid physical torture, did nothing to resist. She was immobile as the corroded, iron gates they passed through.
"Great," Carmen muttered under her breath and shook her head.
Zoey never returned to school that day. A usual occurrence, according to Mary and Dakota. They often left the school and hung out at the mall, or went home, depending on what Mary or Gretchen wanted to do, only returning if a mandatory assembly took place, something that had become increasingly rare in the recent years.
"Sometimes, you'd basically hold us hostage for days," Dakota laughed. They sat in the cafeteria. Without Gretchen around, few people cared to bother the three. Those that did looked to get into Gretchen's inner circle, or were young and impressionable, acting as the popular girl did to gain points with others. Carmen ignored them with ease; she'd dealt with the same type throughout most of her school years. And worse during middle school.
"I did not," Mary defended, though her cheeks were flushed, "I mean, sort of. It was Gretchen's idea."
"No. Binging on booze and weed was her idea. Yours was to hang out until we ran out of clean clothes to wear. And that was only because you wouldn't lend us yours."
"At least we had fun, right?"
