Early morning bathed the grass in its warm glow, at least the part not shaded by the wonderfully conformed house. Carmen looked upon it from Stacy's car, unsure why she didn't get the same smile she did back when they first moved there. Perhaps the sight had become so rote for her, no longer a vision worth grinning like a child over anymore, or maybe it was the fact she'd be saying goodbye to her lovers for the day. She wouldn't be much of a sister if she spent all her time away from Melody.
She climbed out to a slight creak from the vehicle. Even for a marvel of engineering, carrying three women with dozens of kilos of curves between them couldn't be easy, though even if broke down, Carmen had plenty of funds to repair it. Or just buy a newer, improved model. Before turning her back on the gorgeous woman in the driver's seat, she leaned down and in for a quick peck on the lips. Remnants of milk and cum lingered on Stacy's lips.
"I'll see you soon," Stacy said.
"I miss you already," Carmen sighed, earning that smile she swore could end wars with the kindness it radiated.
"Me too, but I'm sure you have plenty to keep you busy."
"If Melody gets her way, I'll be a damsel in distress, or a guest for her tea parties for the whole day."
"Sounds nice," Stacy said and meant it. Yeah, she was right. Carmen's world had become subsumed in sex ever since the strip club, with brief stints of placid normalcy dotted throughout. A day of being her sister's plaything would do her good, help reset her priorities a little. Or at least make her appreciate the constant bombardment of pleasure she was becoming accustomed to.
"Bye," Carmen waved her girlfriends off, though Rachel remained passed out in the back. Their early morning 'quickie' had taken its toll. In more ways than that. The not quite human sniffed at herself, "Definitely need a shower."
While she didn't mind the musk of sweat and sex that clung to her body like an invisible cloak bellowing in phantom wind, her mother and sister would take umbrage with it. Maybe not Melody, since the girl rarely cared how Carmen looked or smelled. Alicia certainly would. Better to avoid making her worry over silly things.
The door was unlocked to her surprise. While she'd squandered some time at Stacy's, it was still early enough that she doubted her mother had left the house, and the car was still there. No signs of a break in either, but one couldn't be too careful. If Gretchen had tried something while she as gone... Carmen nudged the door open, in case an intruder remained, only to catch the scent of bacon and eggs. Mom must be in the kitchen, she thought and relaxed.
"Morning," Carmen greeted as she stepped into the kitchen, only to freeze in the door at the sight of a complete stranger, who whirled around in fright.
"Oh! Uh, you scared me." It was a woman. No, a futa? Carmen frowned, noticing the bulge in the stranger's underwear. Had she written their name and just didn't recognise them? "Hi, I'm Samantha Stevens. Your neighbour." No, there weren't any 'Sam's' in the book. Though Sam Evans did have a shadow last time she saw her.
Carmen forced her focus back on the apparently invited person, "Carmen. What're you doing here?"
"Well, um... wow, you're... even more impressive than in the pictures. Sorry. I'm Alicia's... friend. She invited me in."
The teen's brow furrowed, then a grin lifted her cheeks. Time with her family had been fleeting in recent weeks, however she'd heard about a 'friend' her mother made, one that she talked about with obvious fondness. So, she finally made a move, and on a trans-woman no less. One with a surprising endowment.
Carmen took a seat at the table and looked her over with a critical eye. Perhaps too intense, she noted as the woman nervously toyed with a spatula, "The bacon's burning."
"Shit!"
For every stereotype Carmen knew of, Samantha didn't fit them quite right. A bit of an inverted triangle in shape, however she still had decent hips and a pert ass shaped by genetics and uncountable squats. She liked to be proven wrong about her own assumptions. However, despite Samantha's obvious femininity, there was self-doubt. Her voice, low with a slight croak to it, had a hint of acting to it. Like she'd yet to fully settle into herself.
"When did you transition? If you don't mind." She chose to be direct, rather than play around the subject.
"Huh? No, I don't mind," Samantha chuckled, "Sorry, didn't expect you to notice so, well I guess it was pretty obvious, huh? Um, it'll be twelve years in Spring."
"Twelve years... So you transitioned later in life."
"Do I look that old?"
"Just a guess. Unless my mom's a cougar?"
Samantha laughed again, "No, you're right. I was almost thirty when I finally got the nerve to start. Always been effeminate, but things never clicked until I started therapy. Just wish I'd known earlier. Maybe then I'd have been brave enough to try hormones." That's where it came from, that sense of putting on airs. Even after a decade, this woman still felt inadequate for who she really was inside.
The faintest hint of movement caught Carmen's eye. A shadow, basic compared to what her various classmates possessed, beckoned to her, running its hands along its curves. Looking to Samantha's face, she caught her gaze flickering to her chest more than once every few seconds, always jumping back to the stove. Or her own breasts.
Carmen's whole purpose in using the Futa Note as she had been was to help people realise what they truly wanted, and bring that desired-self to reality. The fact she hadn't considered using it for transgender people almost irked her. Now was her chance to start righting that wrong.