Futa Note Re-Write (Female to Futa, TF, Growth, Corruption)
Story by Tosaku No Kishi
Some of you might remember my story 'Futa Note', which only got two chapters before being more or less forgotten. Well, I didn't forget it so to speak, but my style of writing developed to a point that, if I did go back to it, there'd be a fair bit of disconnect between early and later chapters.
So, I'm rewriting it. And I fully intend to finish this story! It just might take a while. Also, yes this is based off Death Note's concept, though it's a near wholly original story, save for some aspects.
NOTE: The tags in the title and cloud (at present) do not fully reflect what will come later in the story. These will be updated as new elements are added.
1146656 Amazing artwork of Ryuka done by Plebbles.
Carmen Robins, an honour student with a bright future,
stumbles across an unfathomable power.
Can she resist temptation?
Or will lust consume her?
Chapter 1
Carmen Robins closed her notebook at the toll of yet another final bell. She inhaled and released, going over everything that had been covered that day as quickly as she could, before she rose from her seat. It grated against the floor in amongst the dozen others, many of whom chatted excitedly amongst themselves and many others who, like Carmen, calmly made their way from the classroom. The hallways always seemed different after a lesson, freeing in a way. Despite being trapped in the same institute and crowded by over a hundred students.
Carmen took a deep breath as she stepped outside. The air was calm, only a light, almost indistinguishable, breeze blew in from the north and brought with it the icy bite of winter. Grey-white clouds hovered overhead, blanketing the Earth below from the sunâs warm glow. A single oak tree stood sentry over the pathway exiting the school grounds, its branches barren of life to resemble the crooked fingers of a fairy tale witch. The pavement below was cracked and the grass clearly untended to.
Such a shame, Carmen thought with a sigh as she studied Saint Puellaâs wasted campus. The school had once been a beacon of sorts, a public school with a dedication to helping girls learn, achieve and become anything they wanted to be. But poor decision after poor decision led to its rapid decline. If Carmen had to estimate its lifespan, the institute had perhaps one more year before being shut down.
With one final savouring inhale of the crisp air, Carmen resumed her path out of the campus grounds. She passed a group of girls huddled together, all wearing thick, expensive coats to hamper the creeping coldâs efforts. They ignored her and she did the same, but couldnât quell the jealous disgust she felt towards them. Chilling slices of cold nipped at her skin through her lone jacket, one made for summer, and through her itchy sweater. Beggars simply canât be choosers.
And nowhere was that truer than for Carmen.
âWhere do you need me?â She inquired upon stepping into the staff room of her part-time job at a local coffee shop, Soothe the Soul. Its owner was a bona fide coffee lover, drinking and brewing the beverage for decades, and firmly believed that it soothed even the most tumultuous feelings. Carmen would refute this were it not for the evidence that stared her in the face every day.
âOh, Carmen, glad youâre here. Could you handle the till? Monica got sick again so Iâm sort of doing everything here,â Stacy smiled and shrugged, handing a customer his change and rushing to brew his cup. Not once, in her two years working there, had Carmen seen her expression turn sour. Even when unruly patrons made a mess or demanded compensation for their own faults. Stacy would always handle the situation with a calm, jovial smile on her well-rounded face.
âNo problem,â Carmen nodded and put on her apron, relieving her boss of her unreasonable duty. A twinge of annoyance clouded Carmenâs features when she thought of Monica, her co-worker in name only, as she rarely showed up or did the work required of her. But Stacy was simply too kind to let her go, even with Carmenâs logical explanations as to why Monica was a liability; she sleeps on the job, doesnât handle customers well, likes to sample the product in blatant view of patrons. The list could go on and on.
The job wasnât even difficult compared to most. Talk with paying customers to build a repertoire, earn tips, sell coffee, and make sure everything ran smoothly. Perhaps it was simply Carmenâs nature to excel, but she found her job peaceful in a way. It seemed to be one of the few escapes from the pressures of school and an energy laden little sister.
The hours ticked by with a regular stream of customers. Soothe the Soul had more than earned its spot on the street, amongst the convenience stores, cafes and bistros and all other sorts of establishments, over the years. A small store with just a few tables, free wi-fi, delicate cups
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