Futanari Noteboo

4:32AM... it was 4:32AM when Carmen's fortitude gave out. She collapsed in bed, unconcerned when the springs stabbed at her, or with the meagre cover. Hot coals would lull her to sleep easier. On her desk, a series of newspapers were strewn about with random ads circled or crossed out, mostly the latter. Her phone was discarded beside them, out of minutes and power. A teasing breeze weaved through the cracks in their walls and ceiling.

Ryuka hovered nearby, awake as always. She didn't sleep. Sleep was a human necessity, not something a god of sexuality required, though the few moments of peace she saw on Carmen's face were during those times. Dreams were a wondrous escape. She'd heard of her kind finding ways into people's dreams, often recounting nonsensical landscapes or unusual happenings. Many dreamt of the things they longed to do in reality. Some were disturbing.

What did Carmen dream of? Ryuka could guess the answer with a glance to the other bed, where the smaller girl slept, unaware of the apparent discord heading their way. All Carmen claimed to want was a better life for the child and her mother. Not herself. And so, the Futa Note rested in Carmen's bag, untouched for days at a time.

Everything could be solved with a few sentences. No human would have reason to refuse such power, even those who already had it. Yet Carmen all but tore it to shreds each time Ryuka broached the subject. The goddess fluttered down to Carmen's level, mighty wings beating softly, and stared. It was admirable, that someone could control themselves to such a degree. Ryuka's very presence should have driven her into a lustful craze long ago.

It was only a matter of time, however. She would succumb. So long as she had the Futa Note, whether she used its power or not, she couldn't hold out forever. On that day, Ryuka suspected the wait would be worth every second. She'd already learned much from this single human.

"Sleep well, Carmen," Ryuka said and mimed the same pose, intent on keeping the human guessing about what she did, and didn't need. It was a childish game, but she enjoyed it.

Two hours of sleep were torture, almost worse than none at all. Carmen shoved herself up, her trained bio-clock rousing her at the usual time. If she let herself fall back to the pillows, lumpy though they were, she might not wake again. Perhaps not, she thought as a smell caught her attention. It was of bacon, a luxurious ingredient they had on special occasions. She got up and walked into the cubical that was their kitchen.

"Mom?" Carmen yawned.

"Morning, Sweetheart," Alicia said as she set three plates with a fried egg and strips of bacon, still sizzling. She beamed like the morning sun, "I've forgotten what it's like to cook. Well, this is hardly cooking."

"What happened?" Carmen asked, a deep frown tightening her brow, while her gut clenched and her lungs stammered for air. Scenarios ran rampant. Did her mother rob a bank in the middle of the night? Did she do something worse? She wouldn't sell her body for sex... would she?

"Nothing, just wanted to make my baby girls a nice breakfast," Alicia said and turned back to the sink, washing up the pan, "Wake Melody up and have some. This'll be the first time we've had a decent meal together in ages."

"About four years," Carmen said.

"That long?" Alicia's voice was strained, "Well, better late than never." Now her smile wavered, dipping in and out from existence. The longer Carmen stared, the tighter it became.

"Yeah," Carmen went to wake Melody. Maybe their mother had a plan? Some form of emergency funds stashed away for just this occasion? Her gut roiled. What if she wound up working as a stripper? Or a prostitute? Both?

Her own grin strained as she watched Melody scarf down her breakfast, despite being told to savour her food. Alicia also struggled, unaccustomed to the masquerade Carmen performed day after day with her sister. All was fine. All was well. Things would get better. The same lines, on repeat, spoken with a different word at times, but still the same empty phrases. Except she had the means to make them real.

"No," Carmen ground her teeth together. This was her problem, a human's problem. If she used the book for something like this, then what would stop her from using when she next had any difficulty. Nothing. Using it for others was fine. Sometimes they needed it. Not her. She was different. Better.

"Did you say something?" Alicia asked.

"Hmm?" Carmen blinked, "Oh, nothing. Just mumbling to myself."

"That's weird," Melody said.

"Oh yeah? What about this?" Carmen crossed her eyes.

"Ew!" Melody giggled, then tried it to no success.

"You'll get it. I'm gonna go get ready," Carmen said and slid a leftover strip onto Melody's plate. With how her body had developed, more fat was the last thing she needed. Back in her bedroom, Ryuka made her presence known.

"Just use it," she said.

"No," Carmen growled. This wasn't a good time. She doubted she could hurt the perverse goddess, but every muscle in her body was willing to try.

"You could get anything you want. That means a better life for your family," Ryuka said.

"I know," Carman said, all the fury evaporated, then condensed at the corner of her mind where it would wait until she couldn't handle it. Which may well be a few hours from then, assuming Gretchen showed up at school.

"Then why..."

"Because it's not natural!" Carmen said, "Or... something like that. I don't know! Just... just leave me alone for now. Please?" She sat on her bed. It creaked under her weight but held. Everything felt heavy, yet brittle, like falling onto a bed of grass would shatter her. She pushed herself up and went about dressing for school. Even her abominable addition did nothing to faze her. It hung limp against her dense thighs.

Carmen grimaced at the weight of her breasts as she tugged a clean shirt on. It was one of the few that still fit well, though only because it had been stretched to ruin by the former owner, so it hung over her torso. All her other tops were either stained or too small, even the cute blouse she'd found last year in a thrift store. As she moved onto her skirt, which coiled around her hips now, though it managed to reach a few inches past her obnoxious panties. The underwear rode up between her balls and pinched at her phallus.

The shirt was an ugly brown and had a few holes chewed in by moths. She couldn't use a bra, as the few options left were several sizes too small. Her former B cup supporter laid in a heap of now useless garments. If she had the luxury, she might've gone to get measured, but such a thing might well be fruitless. All because she had to have been the one to pick up the Futa Note.

"It's your fault," Carmen said, looking over the book. Her mother had seen Melody out, leaving Carmen spare time to lament the cause for her current predicament. The book was to blame. No doubt. Had Ryuka not dropped it, had she not picked it up, then none of this would happen. She would continue to exist without distractions, without Gretchen's sights on her, and without knowing Stacy's touch. At least her family wouldn't be on the streets.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Ryuka asked at the door. She referred to the black notebook, the cruel machination for the family's woes, stashed under Carmen's bed.

"No," Carmen said and headed to school.

The day had no intent on improving for her. Dakota, Mary and Zoey offered to help, each inviting her to their houses, but no solution didn't have her taking advantage of them -- which equated to her using what the Futa Note had done. They wouldn't be her friends, or this willing at all, if not for the damned book -- nothing could done that didn't clash with her principles. Something might come along. Her mother could at least rent a motel room for a few nights, longer if they found work in time.

"Ugh, let's go the other way," Mary said, retrieving Carmen's attention. She looked and saw Gretchen, accompanied by the usual redhead and overweight girl, but now another pair were added. Carmen recognised them; they were the two Stacy had hired a few weeks ago.

"They didn't..." She whispered, mind flashing through all the information on Stacy's building. The only reason it could burn down is through the bakery at the back, or through arson.

"Oh, hey there dyke brigade!" Gretchen sneered, "Sorry about what happened, Carmen. I heard that shitty little café burned down. A shame really. But good thing Ashley's parents came along and bought up the property. Now the place might be halfway decent. Won't have that fat cow eating all the goods too."

"You made it happen?" Carmen asked. Her body was numb. Someone was nearby. She was aware of their presence, their warmth, but it was muted as if felt through a coat of metal. Her arms were shaking. A glance revealed that fists had formed. Confirmation was all she needed. No more than one word that justified what she wanted to do.

"Not me," Gretchen turned and arched a brow at Ashley, who stepped forward, confident as she could manage.

"I did. The place was an eyesore," Ashley said. Not another word. Carmen's body flew toward the wealthy bitch, who yelped and raised a hand in defence. But not fast enough. Rage pumped through Carmen's body, loud and vicious, a hideous beast amalgamated from every emotion she'd bit back over the last few months. Her skin met Ashley's, disgust seeped through anger, a visceral crunch preceded their separation.

Something warm ran down her fingers. Blood. She looked and saw that Ashley's nose was crooked and gushing. Another punch might fix it, Carmen thought.

"Now you've done it," Gretchen beamed, unconcerned with the whimpering girl. If not for Zoey, who grabbed Carmen's arms and held her back, the same would have happened to her. Silence hung for a moment, disturbed by Carmen's strained grunts and Ashley's crying. A teacher rounded the corner.

"Just go," Zoey said and stepped in front of her.

"Out of the way," Carmen said, though both the others held her back. By the time she'd pulled free, Gretchen was acting to the teacher, making sure to omit any wrongdoing on her part. Carmen swallowed the bile that threatened to spill out, then left. Classes wandered from her mind. Perfect attendance, scholarships, all were banished. What good would schoolwork do when she wound up homeless?

An invisible shadow descended nearby. Carmen didn't look. It was Ryuka, even just the scent of her was familiar now, a tangy sweetness laced with a potent, earthy musk. For a while, the scent had fuelled Carmen's libido, now it faded to the background. The grass and dirt next to her depressed under Ryuka's weight.

"You're on the ground," Carmen said. She leaned against the school, knees bunched against her chest, while she stared at the world.

"Don't remind me. It feels weird," Ryuka said and extended her immense wings. A blanket of black curled around Carmen's shoulder, warm despite the absolute darkness of the feathers, "Did you do something to your hand?"

"No," Carmen looked at the drying blood, "I punched someone. Broke their nose. But it didn't hurt me. Or it did and I'm just not feeling it."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Carmen asked, though she had no interest in why.

"For ruining your life," Ryuka said and rose, retracting her wing, "But that doesn't mean you can't give yourself a better one. You deserve more than this." She said and tossed a familiar book onto the ground. A pen clattered beside it. On a single page, she could answer all her own prayers. And satisfy her rage in the process.

"Just this once," Carmen said and opened the book, then her hand started moving. She gave brief thoughts to what she wrote, unable to summon logic in that moment. Emotion fuelled each word, and she allowed it to. She wanted it. Calmness had no place for this person.

Ashley nursed an ice pack to her nose. It still throbbed, each pulse a stab of pain from the shattered cartilage. She'd wiped away the blood, almost vomited at the sight of it all, and now sat in the nurse's office. The nurse was nowhere to be seen, but she was heard. In the storeroom, which housed few supplies, Nurse Becket moaned. Ashley tried to ignore it, but the sounds echoed in the decaying room.

The door burst open, "Come on, let's go. I feel like shopping!" Gretchen declared.

"She just had her nose broken," Rachel said, one of the few that spoke against Gretchen. She had earned it, given that yesterday's events had been her ideas. If Ashley said anything, as she'd tried when Rachel brought it up, she was silenced with a simple glare. There was no denying Gretchen. To do so was societal suicide for the next year, as the expunged girls could attest to. Without her favour, anyone became fair game. Even Mary was just another target for ridicule now.

"Don't care. It might be an improvement. Besides, buying me stuff always cheers me up," Gretchen said and turned, sweeping her luscious hair in a wide arc. The brown roots were showing through her bleach. Once she noticed, it would be another expensive trip to the salon.

"Give me a minute," Ashley said. What else could she say? If she refused, Gretchen would lash out. Accepting her place was easier, and at least she had a semblance of power like this. Better to suffer with power than without.

"Ashley," Rachel sighed but let it go. No one under Gretchen's fist were friends. They tolerated one another, sometimes shared about their lives, but looking after each other came second. Gretchen was ruthless, so they must be too. If she didn't care about someone, and she never did, then they didn't. Her example was law.

Mary had been kinder. While not friendly, or even amicable most times, she at least looked after her followers. Sometimes more. A peculiar pang of heat lanced through Ashley, building as she recalled the circumstances that she lost her virginity. It was Mary's handiwork, but tender, a setup with a guy that Ashley liked. The night had been fake -- he was blackmailed into it -- but she appreciated the gesture. Then there was that kiss.

She exhaled, hoping to relieve the warmth still swelling in her. Was she sick? Ashley took long breaths through her mouth, since her nostrils were ruined, and went about changing into her gym shirt. It was tight around her body, hugging the paunch of her stomach and excessive breasts. Her bra bulged through the material, and her boobs puffed over the tops of the cups. Of course she'd gone up another size.

"You done?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah," Ashley said and started toward her, then stopped. Something was wrong. Her chest was hot, like an ember had caught wind, setting her expansive fat ablaze, "Uh, I just need the toilet. Be right back!" Ashley hurried to the bathroom. One perk to having no friends, no one bothered coming after her. She barged into a stall, slammed the lock on and stripped.

"What the fuck?" Ashley gawked at her breasts, which swelled further, gaining size before her gaze. A new weight built inside them. It strained her bra, which rode up as they expanded around the cups. She grunted and snatched at the hooks, though flexibility wasn't her strong suit. Her breasts continued rising, each mound like dough in time-lapse. The straps bit into her soft skin.

A quick flash of inspiration caught her and she shoved the straps from her shoulders, then the bra itself.

"Thank god," Ashley sighed and leaned against the basin, the porcelain was icy against her skin, while her bosom persisted. Inch by inch, new tit-flesh crept over her pudgy gut. To further the impossible sight, they perked up, rounding at the bottom until they took a tantalising teardrop shape.

"What the hell's going on?" The void didn't answer. She was alone in the bathrooms, mouth agape at her bust. The swelling slowed to a crawl, then ceased. For her high school life, she'd been part of the upper echelon of tits, in size at least. After their surgeries, Mary and Gretchen outmatched her. Zoey had always been the largest, and that Carmen girl was a strong contender.

"So much for 'plus-sized'," Ashley muttered once she got the bra off. Its label read 'FF', yet it was a miserable sight to try and fit her breasts in it now. She cupped the heavy mounds in her hands, each firmer than she could recall. The areolae had plumped, swallowing her nipples from view. The heat had diminished, though it still smouldered.

She couldn't wear the bra. Doing so was equivalent to choking her breasts at their new, inhuman size. Gretchen at least had good timing. She hopped to her feet and swallowed back a moan as her breasts jiggled, slapping against each other from the movement. Each ripple in the flesh was a slight, but lingering pleasure. A step led to a similar reaction.

"Oh shit," Ashley retrieved her bra and loosened it as best she could. Even so, the cups were ill-equipped and sank deep into her flesh, causing pleasure and pain to echo each other, but they did reduce the constant jiggling. Once Gretchen let her go, she could try and figure out what caused it. For now, however, the blonde alpha bitch was waiting. She did not like to wait.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we don't stock bras in this size," the employee said. She struggled with the words, caught between awe and horror at the size of Ashley's breasts. Alone, they had seemed massive without teetering into monumental. Now, with others to compare herself to, they stepped into that new realm. This woman's adequate chest seemed miniscule.

"Okay, can you just get the biggest ones? Anything bigger than this," Ashley held up her old bra with disdain. It had pinched at her for the past hour and, since she was forced to loosen the straps or deal with added discomfort, they rubbed against her nipples as she walked. Worst of all, she enjoyed it. If the heat between her thighs was to be believed. Part of her wanted to deal with it. Another quivered at what Gretchen might do if she left without paying for everything.

Her parents were rich, not billionaires, but deep into the millions. They owned local businesses, but had some clout with the larger chains, sorting out deals that benefited them both. Under Rachel and Gretchen's insistence, Ashley had planted the idea for buying the building where Carmen had worked. The fire was an added bonus that reduced costs. She wasn't involved there.

Not that it mattered. Carmen saw her as the core culprit, a worthless scab that should be covered if not removed and thrown away in disgust. That's what she was either way. She wasn't smart, nor did she have any talents, aside from submission and ass-kissing. Without her family, she would fall to the wayside of society. And Gretchen wouldn't let that change. Time for studying was time for partying or buying stuff. In that day's case, it was three dresses, a pair of heels and a new set of earrings. Ashley would never say it, but it all made her look like a whore.

"Check it out," Gretchen pointed to a flyer on the mall bulletin board. It was for a recently opened theme park, the slogan claimed 'Thrills better than any pills'. Ashley rolled her eyes, as did Rachel, but Gretchen saw it as a challenge. She enjoyed several variants of pills, "Let's go."

"What?" Ashley said.

"Well, you've obviously got nothing better to do. And it sounds like fun," Gretchen's face warped into a snide grin, "I suppose your weight might get in the way. Is that it? Worried your fat tits will fly off on a roller coaster? I mean, I'd feel sorry for the poor sap that suffocates under them. That's not it? Then shut up and let's go."

That was her way. Questions she didn't want responses to, and a conversation that she settled without a word from another. It could be far worse, Ashley supposed. Carmen would have strangled her by now.

The park wasn't far. Five minutes by taxi and they arrived at the entrance, where Ashley flashed her credit card, billed straight to her parents. Despite the weekday, the place thrived. Groups and couples milled about, yelling over the others about what rides to go on next. Not a foot of space was free, penning Ashley in with Rachel and Gretchen. The sound of roller coasters and similar rides roared above it all.