Academy Days: Outcasts – 4 [❤️]
You are Cherry, and you love pizza!
You also love cake, and candy, and pastries, and fries, and burgers, and ice cream, and lasagna, and honeyed oatmeal, and barbeque, and hot dogs, and chili, and burritos, and subs, and…well, you like food! You’re in one of those Roma restaurants, rolling up a pizza with your two besties, Fracti and Wednesday.
You’re so happy you made friends with skinnies! You know you shouldn’t use that word, but what else are you supposed to call those races with all that exposed skin? No wonder they’re obsessed with clothes, they’d freeze in the Boreal colonies!
Technically, your friends are skinnies. But you don’t think harpies count. They may not have fur, but they've got feathers!
When she isn’t trying to hide her chest, Fracti’s got a bunch of exposed light brown skin, and downy strawberry-blond hair that cascades down her shoulders. Her feathers and plushy chest makes her super soft and very huggable. Her wings are the softest! It’s too bad she’s so wispy and frail, you have to be super careful when you hug her.
Your other harpy friend is very not-huggy. If Fracti is as delicate as cobweb, then Wednesday is more like a knife. Big sharp eyes, sharp mind, very sharp talons. You know this because she sharpens them during Chemistry class. She brings a whetstone and rakes her claws under the table. It’s loud enough for others to hear, but nobody brings it up. Wednesday is more toned than Fracti, and a lot paler. Not that you see much of her skin, because she’s always wearing dark clothes.
Fracti gives you a warm smile as you eat, but she cranes her head to look over Wednesday’s shoulder while she reads the report you handed in for your biomancy class a week ago. You were a bit silly and got a teensy bit distracted on the due date…but it’s okay, ‘cause you handed it in early and got a B+!
Yay!
The report was supposed to be about a spell that would alter someone’s body in a helpful way. Sooooooo you came up with a spell that would help your two besties! Anyways, Mr. Pression gave you back your report today and said that he’d be retiring at the end of the semester.
Bummer. You liked Deep Pression’s class, even if you already knew everything he taught.
He said something about the rubric not being followed but the spell was solid. Turns out, you were supposed to make a report on an existing spell with only minor helpful alterations.
Oopsie!
In hindsight, maybe developing an arcane spell that would turn harpy wings into arms was a bit beyond just ‘advanced’ biomancy.
“So?” Fracti whispers excitedly.
“It’s a fifteen-page run-on sentence that reads like a schizophrenic optimist's manifesto.”
“That’s normal for Cherry.” Fracti waves a wing dismissively. “Does the spell work?”
Wednesday (very, very subtly) purses her lips and puts down your work. She closes her eyes and arcane sigils appear at her wing tips, then flow down her shoulders. Her wings glow briefly, and she frowns, but the transformation takes hold. Wednesday’s eyes widen, marveling her new pale arms. She turns her hands over and wiggles her fingies with the tiniest little smile.
Oh, good, it worked!
“Incredible.” Fracti breathes.
You knew it would work for most harpies, but Wednesday has a weird body. She’s a bit of an outlier. Like you! Except instead of being able to perfectly control her body, she has more magic stuffed inside of her and her sweat has a distinct chemical composition. It's some sort of magical compound that would affect your limbic and endocrine systems if you let them.
Funky mutation!
Wednesday runs her hands up her arms, delicately running her fingers past her elbows, higher and higher…and she stops. She levels a cold glare your way.
“Why do my armpits have feathers?” Wednesday raises her arms, revealing a bushy mass of pitch-black feathers.
“Friction reduction! Plus, it helps to retain your individual musk.” You reeeeeaaallly like your friends’ scents! “Look at mine!”
You show off your neon pink armpit hair and Wednesday bites her lip. Fracti just giggles.
After you help Wednesday get rid of her armpit feathers, you let them know that the project let you test out of your biomancy class early. Fracti got excited, saying how stuff like that almost never happens and that you should go out to celebrate.
“Moon and stars!” You clap your hands to your cheeks and bounce in place, straining the supports of the booth. “I saw a clothing shop across the street. We should go inside and some shirts and stuff!”
“Oh…more clothes.” Fracti’s strained smile is funny.
You know she doesn’t like them, but harpy shirts and skinny shirts are very different. Funnily enough, Wednesday doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down. She shifts in place before rolling her eyes.
“Fine, if you insist.”
You didn’t even insist! Fracti shoots you a knowing smile and you muffle a giggle.
“What?” Wednesday glowers.
She acts all broody and all too cool for school. It took a while for you and Fracti to learn all of her Wednesday-isms. Once you got past the nearly-emotionless expression and sharp words, you realized that she has a few things that she really likes. Like scary forests, dangerous monsters, depressing poetry, mysteries, shadows…and apparently clothes!
“You two go ahead.” Fracti hums and looks over your report. “It’ll take me a bit to figure it out. I’m not nearly as proficient as Wednesday in arcane magic.”
You slide out of the booth, mostly by moving the dense fat in your midsection to roll you through like a tread, and grab Wednesday by the hand. She glumly accepts being pulled out of the restaurant, the mustachioed man manning the oven offering a prayer in thanks as you leave.
Skinnies do love their clothes. They get into a tizzy when you walk around in your natural state, even when your fur hides the no-no places. You shop for clothes frequently because it’s hard to find clothes that regularly survive your transformations.
“Look, Wednesday!” You point at the boutique. “Look, look, loooook! This is going to be fun!”
Wednesday sighs but doesn’t fight as you pull her into the boutique. Look at all those dresses! And funky hats! Some of them glow magically, too. You knew it was a good idea! The shopkeeper is resting her head on her hand, watching you scurry about the room. Wednesday follows you sedately, trying to appear disinterested. You try on a top hat and monocle, several propeller hats, a very nice silk scarf, and Wednesday just nods along.
You’d try on some of the other stuff, but there’s nothing in your size. Normally, there’d be nothing with big enough arm holes for Wednesday’s wings. Now though, she’s looking through all the dark clothes in a way that seems casually disinterested. There’s got to be something here that will blow her away.
Before you get a chance to ask her, you spot it.
It’s a small black hat. Not too crazy. A simple little beret. It would fit her perfectly!
You grab it and rush to the saleswoman to buy it. The lady has an odd grin, but who cares? Wednesday is going to look so cute in it! You turn around and immediately present it to her. Wednesday cocks an eyebrow.
“What is this?”
“A present!”
The grumpy harpy almost cracks a smile. You’re an expert in muscles, you could tell one of them in her face twitched. She loves it! Of course, she pretends not to and saunters over to the mirror and gingerly puts it on her head. She strikes a few poses that say: ‘I don’t care’, ‘I’m beyond your problems’, and ‘Why are you bothering me?’.
She nods.
“Zis is acceptable.” You stare at her. She stares at you. Did she stumble over her words? “Whie am I speekging laikuh zis?”
She tries to take the beret off. Uh-oh.
The shopkeeper had sneakily made her way to the back door. Wednesday isn’t having that. She waves a hand and the door locks. The shopkeeper chuckles nervously, looking for an escape. The only way out is behind Wednesday.
“I, uh…I think the beret might have been cursed?”
Wednesday’s talons glide through the floor like very angry knives through butter.
“And werrre you goingk to tell us eet waz currrsed? Wat eez this rrridikulus accent aie ‘ave?”
“It, um, sounds Lancelotian?” She smiles sheepishly. She swallows nervously as Wednesday’s glare bores holes in her. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a full refund. And fifty percent off on your next purchase.”
The harpy narrows her eyes.
“I am goink to dizembowel you now.”
Wait, that’s illegal here.
Wednesday leaps at her with a snarl. Thankfully, you grab her in a big hug and run for the door. She can’t escape your squish and she screams in anger.
“I’LL FUCKING KEEL ZIS BEECH!”
You pull her tighter in your hug and her muffled screams fade in your chest. You’ve never seen her so upset! Wednesday fumes in your embrace but stops struggling as much. You whine. You’re going to need to make this up to her. You run up the street to get her something else before she can attack the shopkeeper again.
“Guards!” The shopkeeper runs out. “That fat girl with the dog ears stole some clothes! Guards!”
Hey, wasn’t she offering a refund? That’s so funny of her to change her mind. You don’t mind the strange looks people give you as you run by with a harpy stuffed into your chest. The guards can be so jumpy! Better run faster!
Super-dense muscles contract underneath the plush adipose and you leg it.
Since the orthus incident a few weeks ago, you've been more cautious in your feedings. Enough that you're back on rations from a convenient new source. Still, you've taken very little out of fear of getting discovered, which means less DESIRE. Plus, knights have been on the prowl for more 'obscene' art and you haven’t siphoned the barest DESIRE from anyone. Not even arousing the slightest doubt you are anything but a mortal. Sometimes, you do the sad thing and masturbate to feed off your own DESIRE. You don’t risk using shadow constructs, instead relying on an electric toothbrush. Add to that the feeling that Fracti seems to know more than she lets on, and you've been a bit off your game.
You have never been hypnotized before. Never been tricked before. The closest you’ve ever been to being hypnotized was with Fracti, and you caught it fast. To have a spell placed on you, without you noticing, is something beyond infuriating. It most likely has something to do with how the magic didn't activate until you put on the beret.
You are furious. Or you would be.
Because you, Wednesday, and currently being smushed into Cherry’s body, your head stuffed between her huge breasts.
Well, now you’re paying for it. Smushed between her hefty boobs, your talons gripping onto her thick butt, smothered in her gross, sweet sweat. Your pussy gushes with need.
You want to taste her.
It’d be so easy, too. You could cast a wide-net hypnosis and make your presence disappear, like you’ve done so many times before. You could pull up her shirt and shove your face between her tits and motorboat them, or slap her ginormous ass and watch the ripples run up her body, or any number of lewd things, all without her even noticing.
It’s so tempting.
But you won’t. So you nestle yourself into her flesh and let your UNADULTERATED RAGE simmer away, and you put a pin in your revenge on the shop owner. You weave your magic through your body, trying to identify the nature of the curse. It’s far more productive than losing your cool or tearing Cherry’s clothes apart and sucking on her mammoth—Calm yourself.
“You there! Stop!” A guard yells after Cherry.
“Whoopsie!” Cherry takes a tight turn and runs down an alleyway.
She peels you off herself and holds you up. Her blue eyes dim and she winces, her ears twitching at the sound of the guards getting closer. Her body grows a couple inches, her clothes straining against her until they’re tight against her body. She pulls you from her tits like you're just a toy and pouts. You’re still trying to wrap your mind around what’s happened in the past minute when her neon pink hair darkens into purple.
“I know you’re not a huggy person.” She winces. “Sorry about this, Wednesday.”
Sorry? Why is she—WHUMP! She stuffs you down her shirt face-first. Your entire body is surrounded by her warmth, her plump stomach making room for you as you slot into place inches away from her furry mound. Your talons twitch in confusion, the only visible part of you poking through her cleavage.
“Shoot, shoot, you’re a teensy bit too tall!”
She tries to push you deeper, wiggling your face ever closer to the untamed patch of purple pubic hair. You wrap your hands(!) around her wide waist to hold on, your fingers clenching tightly onto her love handles to keep you in place. If you get any closer—!
“You there! In the alleyway!”
Cherry freezes and slowly turns around.
“…Hi?”
“Have you seen a slightly fatter woman, also with dog ears and tail, running this way? She would have been carrying a harpy.”
Incredible. These guards must be from be a remedial batch.
“…Are you serious, Blindaz? She’s a little bit taller and has purple hair, but that’s clearly her.” Damn it!
“Noooooo?”
Cherry’s probably trying to avoid looking at them, like she does whenever she feels guilty. Bad luck, that’s when they spot your talons poking through her cleavage.
“Are those talons?”
“Gottagosorry!” Cherry takes off again.
“Halt, in the name of the law!”
“Crudcrudcrud!” Cherry whines as she rushes through the streets. “Not again!”
Every stride threatens to bring you closer to her musky bush.
Her hair tickles the edge of your nose and you have to keep yourself from taking deep huffs to inhale Cherry’s essence. Her warm breasts jiggle around your legs, bouncing in a way that smothers the sensitive skin where it meets scales.
You’ve never been teased like this.
You can feel the smile stretched on your lips as you are carried through Camelot, nothing more than underwear for the chubby kobold. You slide closer, your hands now firmly gripped on her globular buttcheeks to keep you from going even deeper down into those forbidden depths. You could open your mouth, let your tongue search the jungle Cherry called a crotch to find her delectable folds. Just thinking about it, your pussy is already sopping wet.
You. Must. Resist.
A trickle of arousal slips past your jeans, carving a subtle path up your navel. You shove your face into Cherry’s belly to keep yourself from screaming in need, your fingers digging deeper into her abundant assflesh.
“W-wowie! You’re not happy.” Cherry giggles nervously. “Hold on, I’m going to try something.”
Much to your horror (and lust), Cherry’s body transforms again. She grows again, not by inches, but by feet, her body stretching across yours as the fat melts into rock-hard muscle. Her stride increases, her labored breathing shifts into the smooth rumble of organic perfection. Abs dig into your chest and your fingers struggle to grip the callipygian marvel that forms underneath them. In some desperate, crazed desire, you look to her pubic mound and open your mouth in the vain hope that a fat fucking kobold cock will erupt from her loins.
For a moment, you allow yourself to dream of being used as the futa kobold’s cockcase as she runs throughout Camelot, her titanic knot filling your mouth as you choke on her red rocket. She’d run from end to end of the great city, jogging you on her dick as she unleashes load after load into your whore mouth.
The trickle between your bodies grows into a flow and Cherry shifts uncomfortably.
“Quit sweating!” Cherry hisses and casually leans against a lamppost. “I’ve got this. Be cool, be cool, be cool.”
Your aphrodisiacs should have minimal effects on Cherry. Be calm. Resist.
Think about something, anything than being a glorified onahole.
Relax. Use that blindsight spell you learned to focus on anything else.
“I am cool.” You mutter to yourself. “I ‘ave perrrfect calm.”
“Me too, Wednesday. Shush, they’re coming!”
The guards skitter around the corner, struggling to catch their breath. They look around the street before finally settling their gazes in your direction. Directly at the red-furred, seven-foot-tall, kobold rippling with muscle leaning against the lamppost. Sure, her hair is red now, but she’s still wearing the same clothes. Clothes that barely hide you.
You bite your lip.
You could use hypnotism to convince them to ignore you. But then they’d be after Cherry. If she disappeared from their senses right now, then they’d know something is up. And that’d be the first step in people countering your hypnotism. Your mind races to come up with solutions as they steadily get closer.
“Ma’am.” One guard narrows her eyes. “Would you happen to know about a troublemaker with dog ears? One with pink hair? Or purple hair?”
“Nope!” Cherry pops the ‘p’.
“Really? Because the description almost lines up with a white-haired heavyset woman who dined and dashed several months ago.”
Creeeeak.
Cherry looks guilty as sin. She nervously squeezes the wrought-iron lamppost and it twists out of shape with an agonizing whine. The guards’ faces pale.
“Ummmmm…that doesn’t sound like me. I’m here because I like going to the…” She smiles nervously and looks at the sign posted atop a nearby building. “Gym. Yes. I do a lot of gymming.”
The pair of guards look between the twisted lamppost and Cherry. The woman holds a radio up, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she tries to find the words.
“Dispatch, we’ve lost sight of the suspect.”
“The fat, pink-haired one with dog ears?” The radio crackles. “Damn. Another one of those. We’re still trying to find the dog-woman with green hair who ran through several walls a few months back. I swear, there’s a whole pack of neon-colored dog-like women running through Camelot causing thousands of gold worth of property damage.”
“…Yeees.” The woman eyes the lamppost.
“Alright then. Officer Argent, Officer Abbatt, keep your eyes open. Dispatch out.”
The two back away from Cherry and somewhat hurriedly make their way down the street.
Cherry lets out a big sigh of relief. She looks down her chest and smiles.
“See? I totally tricked them!”
Yeah, no. More like the guards realized that if Cherry decided to fight back, they’d get crumpled inside their armor like empty soda cans.
Telling her that would make her sad, though. She’s so intent on being ‘friend-shaped’ that she starts whining like a beaten dog whenever people get scared of her. When you asked her about it, she got all wistful and mentioned how lonely it was being a strong kobold in the Boreal Colonies. She almost started crying, but Fracti was there to cuddle her until she felt better.
Quinn’s tits, why do you hang out with these soft-hearted fools…
“Grrrate worrrk.” You wince at your stupid accent. “Naow find ae place forrr us to—”
“Woah! What happened to the lamppost?”
A woman, nearly as tall as Cherry and equally muscular, strides out of the gym. She’s got dark hair and an olive complexion, though there’s something about her gaze you don’t like. She takes one look at Cherry and grins. She chuckles to herself and eyes Cherry, walking around her to get a good look at her. Your jaw drops when she pokes at Cherry’s muscles.
How brazen!
The kobold just giggles as the older woman pokes, prods, and gropes at Cherry’s muscle groups.
“Incredible work. No empowerment magic, either!”
The woman pulls up Cherry’s shirt to get a good look at her perfect abs. And pauses.
“Bonjour.”
“What are you doing there?” To her credit, the woman is nonplussed.
“Eet iz, ‘ow you say, a long storrry.” You take the opportunity to slip back onto the ground.
“Wahahaha! I’ve had my share of those.” She points her thumb at herself and grins. “I’m the owner of this gym, Diane. And I’ve got to say, you’ve got a fantastic set of muscles there.”
“Thank you!” Cherry chirps. “I grew them myself!”
“That’s what I like to hear! Say, are you interested in a gym membership?”
Oh no. The only thing more difficult to wiggle out of than a demonic contract is a gym membership. You try to warn her, but Cherry’s tail is already wagging at a hundred miles per minute.
It’s too late. She’s taken in by the praise.
An hour later, Diane is still teaching Cherry the ‘noble art of wrestling’. At the moment the older woman has Cherry in a headlock, the two amazons stretching their bodies in impossible ways to pin each other to the floor. You're watching them quietly from the bench when you notice Fracti walk in.
You hastily wipe the drool from your mouth.
She’s got arms now, sort of. She only has three fingers on each hand and her arms are covered in feathers, but it’s still impressive that she got that far in so little time. She perks up when she sees you, cocking her head as her teal eyes dart between whatever unseen things crowd you. She slowly turns her gaze to Diane and Cherry in the ring, just in time to catch Cherry slipping out of the older woman’s lock and try to pin the older woman by locking her thick thighs around her neck.
“Yay! This is fun!” Cherry giggles.
“You bet!” Diane guffaws, picking Cherry up and slamming her against the floor with enough force to cripple lesser musclebound nutcases, the pair re-entangling in a mess of sweaty, sinuous limbs. “This is the best challenge I’ve had in years!”
Fracti sits next to you.
“You feel…strange.”
“Strrrangerrr zan norrrmal?” You wince.
“Oh!” Fracti smiles gently and passes her clawed fingers over your face. “A curse…there we go.”
It’s like a weight linked to the beret fades away. You take a long, relieved breath. You probably could have undone it yourself…probably. You were a bit distracted by the pair of muscular women wrestling. Imagining the pair of them sandwiching you between their ripped bodies and shoving massive futanari cocks into your tight cunt and asshole, double-teaming you until you turn into a moaning whore begging for more. Having them clean their dicks in your slutty mouth, layers of their stinky cum splattering you white. Quinn's taint, the thought of them using you, fucking you senseless until you're nothing more than a cumrag twitching at their feet, leaking thick, sticky jizz from all of your holes...
Yeah. You could have probably undone the curse.
Fracti stares at you. Expectantly.
“…Thank you.” She deserves that much.
You never would have guessed a beret could curse you into becoming Fr*nch. Yuck.
Her teal eyes keep boring holes into you. She slowly reaches into her purse and pulls—where did she get that? She gently lays the black leash across her legs and you stiffen. Her talons, dull and tender compared to yours, softly tap against the floor as she opens and closes her mouth a few times.
“W-Wednesday? Could you please bring Cherry some water?” She hands you a water bottle. “She’s working up a sweat.”
What? Impossible, she's in her kobold form at the moment. Cherry is panting, and only Diane is sweating at the moment. Fracti observes you some more, her grip on the leash tightening. Your heart races despite your expressionless face. Her teal eyes flutter and she purses her pouty lips, nervously tightening her grip on the leash.
“Be…be a good girl. Please.”
You take the water bottle to Cherry, a small thrill spiking deep in your chest.