"Alright, you girls work on your own for a bit, while I pop to the toilet, 'kay?" Vivian said and strutted from the room in her high heels, the kind that only a stripper would choose, and that seemed impossible to walk without flawless balance. Or a supernatural need to be a bimbo, both of which the educator now possessed.
Carmen tapped her pen against a plain notebook. She got new ones for the year, however none saw any use when she already had most of the curriculum memorised and noted at home. Thanks to her friends' efforts, she wasn't desperate to fuck again, though a flicker of lust always taunted her. It was at the back of her mind, yet lurked in her thoughts' periphery, like a sunspot in her eye.
"Shit!" A girl cursed just as her phone toppled to the ground and slid under Carmen's chair. She handed it back to the owner, who smiled sheepishly. What was her name again? Carmen hadn't bothered learning her classmates names before the Futa Note, nor had that changed, but she had to admit this one was cute. And the way she glanced up from her scuffed device made it clear she liked the futa's figure. That wasn't the reason Carmen's gaze lingered.
Like with Vivian a few days prior, there was a shadow wreathed around this girl. When the light shone enough to pronounce its darkness, the shape moved, danced to accentuate its curves even as they grew from the attention. Once they were certifiably huge, more than a match for Carmen's own, the silhouette slipped back into the girl, who hid a demure grin behind her phone.
"Um, my name's Laura. Laura Mars. You're Carmen, right?"
"Yeah. Nice to meet you."
Nothing came of their conversation. It did provide a distraction from the otherwise tedious lesson, for half of which Vivian was absent. Every ten minutes, she made an excuse to leave, then returned, clothes slightly more dishevelled, and her shirt moved in erratic patterns. Almost like someone licking their lips. She didn't chastise Carmen for talking to someone, instead simply smiled and winked. For someone once so uptight it seemed their skin would split, she had mellowed out tremendously and seemed all the happier for it.
Like this was her ideal self. The form she'd wished would beam back at her in the mirror every morning, instead of the formerly drab mask she donned. Carmen had written her name, but rather than damage this woman's life, she had perfected it. All because that shadow urged her.
What did that mean for Laura, then?
Throughout that day, Carmen eavesdropped on the students and faculty whenever she was around. The moment they caught sight of her, the topic shifted to how incredible her figure was. Some openly admitted to wishing for something similar. Those people had shadows, always enticing Carmen to get their name and write it.
As the day drew to a close, she leaned against a locker, talking to Rachel, and listened to another group opposite them.
"Those tits are way too big."
"And that ass. Think she could squash a watermelon?"
"Maybe she's secretly a mom? I've heard some of their hormones go crazy and they grow like that."
"She might've knocked herself up."
"Is that even possible?"
"With dicks like those, I'd be surprised if it wasn't."
"How many babies do you think she had to make her body like that?"
"Is it bad that I want to find out?"
"No, but it's pretty fucked up that I want to try it."
Carmen hid her curiosity behind a smirk. As the final lines were spoken, their shadows changed, became more palpable and moved as if speaking to her. Like they were rephrasing the conversation into a wish, one that only the book could fulfil. That only Carmen could make reality.
But that meant using the book more. In turn, her inhibitions toward it would decline. After the strip club, if she turned all the students around her into futanari, then what was to stop her from spreading it further. Names and faces were so easy to find. Given enough time, no other genders would exist. No sexism, racism, elitism... but who was she to change the entire world order? Maybe in time, however she was still a teenager. It was normal for them to go a little sex crazy, right?
Of course, that was why she had such wonderful girlfriends. The weekend rolled in like a creeping mist, though rather than unease, it brought her joy in the form a dinner with two beautiful futanari. It was an upscale French Bistro, possibly the most expensive place for miles, and somewhere Carmen had longed to take Stacy when they first dated. Back then it was a pipe dream, now they all sat together, breasts on the small table. If only it were a little smaller, she thought as their busts almost touched. Or if they were all bigger.
Carmen wore her only dress for that evening. On a smaller woman, it would be a flowing gown fit for a ball, on her stacked frame that towered over most, the garment barely functioned as an outfit. Her breasts pushed its chest to the brink, even spilling over the fabric if she so much as breathed too deeply, while her hips pulled it high up her already bewildering legs. Of course, the dress had no chance of obscuring her three cocks, even held in place by her special ordered underwear. More a bra for her genitals than anything.
Likewise, her petite lover struggled with her rare formal attire. Rachel stuffed herself into a respectable blouse and skirt. Her panties sufficed to keep her sex concealed, barely, as her hips and ass lifted what should've been a knee-length affair, right to the limit of public decency. Not that her chest was any different.
Then there was Stacy. None in the establishment measured to her, even Carmen was left in the dust by her long-term love's figure, with breasts that, with the right support, acted as her personal shelf. Clear bumps marked her nipples' location, despite her calm state. If the atmosphere quieted enough, one could even hear the milk sloshing away inside. Her full cheeks shone with a mixture of joy and anxiety.
"Really, we can just go somewhere cheaper," Stacy said.
"Don't worry, I'm paying," Carmen said.
"That's the point! Besides, I feel like we're, uh, a little too busty for this place."
"Won't that be the same wherever we go?" Rachel asked.
"I guess, just feels like everyone's staring at us." Stacy tried pushing her arms into her breasts to hide them, but that only pushed them further out. Carmen's member twitched in their sheaths. Not yet, she told them. Like most dates with her partners, the night would inevitably degrade into blissful sex followed by early morning cuddles and milk drinking.
"They should," Rachel giggled and straightened her back, earning a small gasp from another table. To do so required no small amount of strength, all the more surprising when it was the otherwise svelte redhead, "We're fucking hot."
"If you want, I could change everyone here. Then we'd all be similar. People might still stare, but it'd be for different reasons," Carmen offered.
"I... no, that's alright. I appreciate it though."
