Futanari Notebook Ch. 13

Zoey kept her head low as she strode through her neighbourhood. A quiet place, one that offered a genial reprieve from Gretchen, home to welcoming families and the elderly. Some occupied their front lawns, trimming the grass and hedges, others remained inside and glimpsed the outside. She didn't know any of their names, but they smiled and waved nonetheless. The perfect suburban community that everyone craved.

Such a thing didn't exist. She stepped up to her house, a replica of all those around it, separated by a picket fence and a row of hedges. its number and her parents' car distinguished it from the others. The athlete took a long breath at the final barrier between her and her sister.

Megan didn't work, though she fooled their parents into believing otherwise. Her definition of the word was to stay at home and talk to her friends, either bartering for loans to buy stuff or appease their parents. They gave her freedom so long as she put money into the household. A misguided trust that came from her being the oldest and staying out of public trouble.

Which meant Megan could stay and greet Zoey after school every day. Zoey turned the knob, it creaked in protest, alerting her sister to her presence, and entered. She kicked off her sneakers and bounded upstairs, taking them two at a time instead of her usual three. Once on the landing, she rushed to her room. Megan was a bitch, though a far cry from Gretchen's level, but she respected the sanctity of the bedroom.

Of course, the space outside it was fair game. She poked her head out from her room and saw Zoey. A cruel smirk slithered across her face as she approached. Zoey went to grab her door handle and escape, but Megan beat her to it, despite being the slower of the two. Or she should've been.

"Hey, sis. What happened with school? Don't tell me you're playing hooky," Megan patronised. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded beneath her bust to lord them over Zoey.

"I felt sick," Zoey said, eyes downcast.

"Aww, poor girl. What's the matter? Was it 'Gretchen' again? Did she force you to suck some guy off?" Megan asked, faux-concern expertly grafted onto her features as she bent down to put her face level with Zoey's.

"What the fuck is happening?" Zoey mumbled, risking a glance up to confirm the insanity before her. She didn't say anything against Megan's teasing and groaned at the sinking rush of hot and cold through her body. She didn't question it, preoccupied with the horrifying reversal staring at her. Zoey outgrew her sister in her freshman year of high school, standing several inches above the woman. Now she had to tilt her head back to meet her eye.

"What was that?" Megan arched an eyebrow, excitement in her eye. Zoey said nothing. If she spoke, Megan would strike, twisting anything she said into a demeaning comment, "Good choice, pipsqueak." She left then, leaving Zoey to toil in her terror.

The athlete barred herself in her room and fell onto her bed. Her feet once hung off the end, now they rested atop the mattress, a good five inches away from the edge by her estimate. How? She was over six feet tall - six-foot-two to be precise - and now... The mere idea of her new height coiled around her chest and crushed her ribcage, holding it and her organs in a death grip. Her eyes stung.

Why did this happen to her?

She woke up and she'd grown a cock. Her vagina remained in place, unchanged aside from losing her urethra, and she'd looked no different overall. Anyone would agree. Her hair hadn't grown from its short mess of locks around her face, nor had she gained any weight. If anything, she'd lost a great deal in the past few hours. If her delusion was to be trusted.

It couldn't, though. Growing a penis from nowhere was one thing, but shrinking was another. Zoey refused to believe she could lose the one advantage she had in life, the soul aspect she appreciated about herself. Now what did she have? A dick so big even Gretchen would refuse it, and balls to match. She glanced to her skirt and focused on the brazen bulge of her crotch.

Her cock and balls squeezed tight within her briefs, trapped by the resilient material. Zoey undid her skirt and slid it down with her underwear, releasing her mismatched genitalia. She sat up and stared at it, frightened and intrigued by what she now wielded, contemplating its appearance as one might appraise the edge of a cliff. Water crashed and swirled at its base, so far down that her heart and gut plummeted at the merest thought of falling. Yet a dangerous thrill tiptoed across her spine, urging her to take the plunge.

Zoey held her pose. Arms limp on her raised knees, with her hands and gaze pointed to the slab of meat. Length aside, it was a monster. Demure veins crept along its shaft, ripe to swell with blood and lust, while its girth shamed her wrist. And it was still soft. Her stomach flopped at the idea of an erection, at the prospect having to hide such a thing.

But she would. She needed to stay in Gretchen's favour, otherwise she wouldn't make it through school. Not with the bimbo blonde tormenting her like she would Dakota and Mary. Zoey arched her eyebrow at the thought of her former 'friends', though she hadn't spoken with them any more than she did with Ashley. Both acted strange before they left the group. Mary also had a cock, but she had behaved as though it was unnatural. Did Dakota also have one?

If so, then why now? Zoey grabbed her flaccid length and flopped it upward, staring at the underside, lined by a massive bulge that led down into her heavy balls. Was Mary or Dakota the same size as her? She doubted it. The futa grinned as she traced her fingertip along her staggering member, smitten with the idea of outdoing others in a whole new field as pleasant shards of warmth splintered off into her bloodstream, raced to her head and heart and demanded more. She coiled her fingers around her shaft and stroked.

Few people could dispute her size. She'd never be the same as before; she couldn't run as fast, couldn't terrorise others, she couldn't even reach the touch shelf in the pantry now. No one would distinguish her from the average girl. Not until they saw what lied beneath. Zoey huffed a laugh at the thought of sharing this with someone, revealing to them what still made her unique in this world.

Her grip tightened around her filling prick. Its veins pulsed against her fingers, an echo of her heart, as her blood and desire stretched the skin and swelled the circuit of purple-blue lines. Nerve endings fired off across the length, singing at her touch after waiting hours. Her fingers spread apart, further by the moment, and traversed the dwarfing majesty of her cock. She moaned and slouched back into her pillows.

Zoey gawked at herself. Her penis extended from her crotch and reached for the skies, proud in its grandeur and mocking the height she'd lost. She slowed and stacked her hands atop each other from its base, rising until she reached the spongy crown. Fire flickered beneath her skin, its embers latched onto her nerves and consumed all else, lighting up her sense of pleasure against the darkness of her fears. She could forget it all, if only for a moment.

A moment alone with her massive cock. Every inch of its overwhelming girth, wreathed in veins and her fingers, stretched at least eight hand lengths from her crotch to tower above her. Zoey's life as she'd known it was at an end, replaced by a new one devoted to hiding this thing from other's knowledge, but, in return, she could take solace in knowing no one, not even Gretchen, would be in the presence of a cock such as this. That was enough for her.

No, it's not. Zoey argued against herself. She slowed her strokes to a subtle climb across her rigid length, steadfast against the sensations that pervaded her shaft, and let go. It twitched and throbbed in silent protest, yet incapable of swaying her to take hold once more. Zoey turned onto her side and gripped her pillows instead. How could she even think of masturbating with the thing that, far as she knew, was responsible for such a massive upheaval in her life?

"I'm losing my mind," she muttered. First Dakota left the group, then Mary, now Gretchen had it out for Carmen, and, to pile atop the slew of changes, Zoey had a dick. Just like Mary. She grabbed her cracked phone, scrolled through her contacts and found Zoey's number, where her thumb lingered. What would the former queen bee say to her?

'Oh, you got a dick too? That's nice, freak!' Zoey wouldn't be surprised. Mary had no reason to help her anyway, not after Zoey said nothing at the sleepover. Or after what she did just two days ago. But who else could she turn to?

Her thumb tapped the screen and waited.

'The number you have called is not in service...'

"Oh yeah, she got a new phone," Zoey said and set the device down. They had never shared emails or Twitter or Facebook or any other form of contact. She could find her on the last two, though she doubted Mary would remember her without a voice or picture. And the blonde wasn't as sociable anymore.

She'd have to wait until school, and for Gretchen to let her leave, before she found Mary. Or Carmen. She could also help. Probably. Smart, kind and understanding... Zoey failed to see a reason that she couldn't. And she's beautiful, the futa added. Her cock jerked at the thought of the honour student.

Life truly is unfair to give someone brains and beauty in spades, while leaving the rest to hang. Zoey glanced down at new, diminutive self. By her estimate, she stood on par with Rachel, perhaps an inch or two taller. Everyone would tower over her as she did to them yesterday. Her use was at an end. Gretchen had wanted her around for her height and build. She retained her physique, muscle focused in her thighs and abs, but nothing else.

No one said a thing earlier. Even Rachel had been quiet, out of respect or confusion. She didn't know. Megan, obnoxious and unfeeling though she was, would have noticed. Only a blind person could fail to see. This wasn't genetics then, Zoey rationalised. A widespread delusion, perhaps, but one that afflicted everyone who knew her seemed unlikely, impossible even. Maybe they thought she was still six feet tall? No, Megan had looked down at her.

Tomorrow would determine the truth. In the meantime, Zoey studied herself in detail. Her height, though far below her norm, was better off than she thought. She compared her eyeline to the usual view of the bathroom mirror, deciding she'd lost just over half a foot, maybe seven inches if her estimates were correct. Five-foot-four. A hint below average, though nothing to dread. She still stood above Rachel.

Oh god, Rachel. Zoey sank to the toilet and hung her head. She was naked, determined to watch for more ostentatious changes, none made themselves known however, so it was possible her nightmare was at an end. Slender and toned, her body looked honed as ever. Better, even. Being so much shorter, her arms appeared thicker, better equipped to defend herself, and the same held true for her legs. The source of her meagre pride remained such.

Thick, soft-toned thighs sank gracefully into her calves and down into her ankles. Zoey grinned at the slight reprieve from her consistent insanity, glad she could find some solace in her mutated figure. Above her legs, she traced a fingertip across the light definition of her abs, then up between her petite breasts. They hadn't changed, now suited to her form.

"Always a silver-lining." Zoey's smile dissipated, replaced once more by her anticipation for tomorrow, a time shrouded in fog denser than what she saw in classic horror movies. Almost every day since high school started was the same. Wake up, dread the day, suffer the day, go home, suffer some more. Then she went to bed to relive it all again.

Past experience meant nothing anymore. She could wake up the next morning and everyone could know what she'd become. Gretchen could be her enemy, a prospect she wished didn't loom over her minute by minute, and Rachel might hate her. If so, then what options did she have? Zoey pulled her knees against her chest and hugged them close, with her eyes downcast yet again, she stared at the cock. Two people, three at most, would understand her situation. Though one could turn on her.

Sunset turned to night and darkness dwindled against the ball of gas as it rose, banishing the moon to the opposite end of the earth and illuminating Zoey's sleepless eyes in its glow. She laid in her bed, on her back with the covers and her pants tossed aside, leaving her morning wood at attention, as if waiting for the sunlight to bathe it. Sheets creased under her clenched fingers, while her body throbbed in longing. Even so, her shrunken arms remained at her sides.

She refused to touch herself. Doing so gave the delusion credit, made everything real. It was, of course, but if she paid it no attention then she could imagine otherwise, pretend that the day wouldn't be a hellish ordeal. Her cock jerked and slapped against her belly, leaving behind a smidge of pre-cum. How men handled these things, she would never understand. She hadn't dreamed of anything sexual. From what she could recall.

Anxiety didn't temper her erection at all, regardless of how the emotion roared in her ears. It parroted her heart, banging on her ribcage and churning her stomach into a sordid mess. New days represent new beginnings in stories, though true for her, it was torment not relief. Unknowable factors spiralled around her head, swirling and falling into the pit of her fear.

"Stop," Zoey told herself, as she had several times between her sporadic attempts at sleep. She wanted to run. A short jog or sprint would help. Her problems couldn't keep up when she ran. That was before her body shrank, though.

Zoey stood and left her room. Her parents were awake, shuffling about downstairs as they tried to wake up for work, while Megan slept on, as she would for another hour at least. Any time before seven for the moocher was much too early. The diminished athlete moved to the bathroom and went through her morning ritual. She peed sitting down again, afraid to grow comfortable with her new abnormality.

It might still vanish. She hoped, prayed, that it would.

Teeth brushed, bladder emptied and her erection gone, Zoey pulled a set of baggy shorts on. They fit her waist as perfect as ever, having shrunk with her it seemed, as had everything else in her wardrobe. Whatever magic did this to her, it was thorough. Unfortunately, their crotch still bulged with her member. She added a set of briefs, keeping her balls and shaft close to her body. The shape persisted, but it hardly showed now. If someone looked they'd see it.

"Okay... okay, this is fine. It's fine. Gonna be fine," Zoey said. She breathed deep, calming the rampant onslaught of her heart. It thundered in the background, like a nearby storm that could either float away, or bellow overhead and drown her in dread. The direction hinged on how her parents reacted.

Downstairs, Zoey slid into a chair. Her mother had her back turned, her dad busied himself with checking his tie. He ran a local sportswear store, one with the potential to become a chain, and carried himself as such. A loose suit, one designed to give a sophisticated air, but his trousers and jacket allowed for freedom of movement. He once had his sights on becoming a tennis pro, an injured knee robbed him of the dream though. Regret sometimes dimmed his optimistic eyes.

Her mother had a part-time position at a care home. Zoey's grandmother had stayed there before she passed, as such it held a special place for the middle-aged woman. Both her parents had aged with pride. A spot of grey in her dad's hair, a few wrinkles of maturity for her mom, though neither seemed perturbed by it as others might. She envied them.

"Hey, sweetie," her mom yawned. The woman shot a glance to her husband, who returned the favour. Zoey hadn't heard anything last night, though the shared look told her all that they'd be doing. She said nothing. They had every right in their own house, no matter how it embarrassed her. A familiar streak of hot and cold coursed through her.

"Morning," Zoey looked elsewhere, keen not to be reminded of her family's sex life. The kitchen had a barbeque theme, its cupboards and cookers painted charcoal with faint embers smouldering underneath. The floor had a tiled pattern and gave the illusion of a patio. Even the scent of a barbeque filtered in amongst the coffee and fruits. A fruit bowl sat at the centre of a foldable table. Zoey took an apple from the bowl.

"Why're you up so early?" Her dad asked.

Zoey shrugged, "Felt like it, I guess."

"You're not trying to avoid Megan, are you?" Her mom inquired.

"Maybe."

"I wish you two would get along," her dad shook his head.

"If she stopped bullying me," Zoey muttered.

"It's just how it is for an older sister. She'll grow out of it," her mom said.

"Yeah. Right." Zoey bit into her apple and drifted into silence. They'd been saying the same thing since Megan was fifteen. Worse than that, her parents, the people closest to her, didn't say a thing about her height. How far did this go?

An hour later and Megan descended the stairs. She offered their parents a quick morning kiss, innocent enough, but offset by her skimpy underwear, and sat beside Zoey. The elder sibling puffed her chest out and straightened her back, lording her additional inches over the smaller girl. Zoey glared at her from the corner of her eye.

"How's my tiny sister today?" Megan asked.

"Fine," Zoey said.

"Don't need any help reaching the bottom shelf?"

"No."

"Megan, don't tease her," their mother said.

"I'm just being mindful of her needs," Megan said, leering down at her sister.

"I'm short, not disabled."

"Wanna change that?" Megan asked under her breath, leaning down to flash a malevolent grin at Zoey, who shied away and lowered her gaze. Warmth rose and sank within her yet again, as it had since yesterday morning. Why? She focused on the leg of her shorts, brow creased into deep wrinkles. They looked longer than she recalled, and her bulged might've been larger too.

She stood and headed back upstairs. On her way, she passed a set of plaques dedicated to her and Megan's sole shining achievements in school, both attained during the second grade for a silly Spelling Bee that was more a raffle than a contest. Zoey thought, as a child, she and Megan might bond over the fact they shared this minor victory. Megan, instead, shattered the illusion.

For all their differences, the two shared two things. For one, they were never the bright ones. Zoey frequently found herself in the lower end of her classes during exams, as had her sibling, but neither were stupid. Slow suited them better. Given enough time and motivation, Zoey could solve close to any problem a more successful student could. She worked at her own pace, though, a trait she and Megan also shared.

If not for her athleticism, Zoey might've coasted by her school life without any outstanding accomplishments. That said, she owned no trophies for her races, not even a bronze medal. The other racers, while slower than her, possessed something faster than she could run; confidence. For every grain that she wielded, her competitors oozed it entire gallons of the stuff. Even those without talent to back it up.

Zoey's teeth clenched together. Her defeat a few months ago had made it clearer than ever, how little her self-worth reached. She was in second place, poised to take the first, for once in her life she could run faster than the intimidation around her. Then the leader turned and glared at her. A second, less even, and her will shattered and disintegrated to dust. It flew back on the heels of the inferior runner and stung her eyes. A pain that threatened to return.