A Very Special Marker (Loli, Female to Futa TF, Hyper, Growth, Cum Inflation)
Story by Tosaku No Kishi
I did this as part of an art trade with Plebbles, whose work is amazing and should be supported at their patreon.
He stood in a crowded train cart. There was no room, people mashed against him and barged into him when the locomotive stopped or stuttered, rarely with an apology. He was invisible amidst the people. Exactly as he needed it to be.
Tom was his name, twenty-years-old and working as a door to door insurance salesmen. Heâd gotten the job by lying on his resumé, as he suspected his boss had also done based on their ineptitude, and he hated every minute. The only perks were the exercise and, on rare occasion, interrupting a couple during their âromantic momentsâ. But all that would change, now that heâd stumbled across the answer.
He was going to become the protagonist of his own story. Not a kind-hearted, romance or comedy. It wouldnât be tragic or dramatic. No, he sought a very different story to lead. And it all began with the small girl, of no more than ten years, who stood with her back to him. She wore her schoolâs uniform like it was designed for her; knee-length skirt and a navy-blue sweater to block out the Autumn chill.
Her vibrant red hair was a neat bob-cut just past chin-length with tilted bangs. Tom had glimpsed her face when boarding, and it was as cute as heâd hoped. Small but plump lips, large and inquisitive eyes and a small splash of freckles to complete her Irish heritage. Her body was, of course, slender, delightfully so. Sleek shoulders and slight pinch to her waist that highlighted her budding figure. He recognised two slight, almost unnoticeable mounds forming on her chest. Without a doubt, she would be stunning after a few more years.
She was stunning now. Tom cackled under his breath and pulled out an inconspicuous pen from his pocket. To anyone else, it looked no different to the markers one might find in the stationary isle at a store. He knew better. As did his roommate, who had gone from independent man to a lovely, submissive and lewd woman. But he wanted someone innocent, so that he could mould them gradually.
He uncapped the marker. The train slowly came to a stop and the doors opened. No one stepped off, more piled inside. The girl was pressed against him with no escape, or not a quick one. He only needed a few seconds to scribble on her body. Just a few words.
She jolted as the cold felt-tip pushed into the nape of her neck and tried to turn. There was no room to do so, however. Tom wetted his lips as the first word formed. The girl shuddered and squirmed where she stood, whether from the sensation or by the magical properties of the marker didnât matter to Tom. She wouldnât care soon enough.
He finished the second word, adding a flourish to the âKâ at the end. He wondered if placing emphasis on a specific word in the sentence would affect the magic, though he wasnât concerned either way. A series of bleeps resounded through the cart, but Tom ignored them to begin the final word. The tip met skin once more, then tumbled from his grip as the cart jolted to a harsh stop.
By the time he had reoriented himself, the girl was gone. And so was his marker.
Molly panted once she was free of the train. Her heart pounded in her little ribcage, so hard that it sounded like the galloping of a horse, the nigh-invisible hairs on her arms stood on end and the back of her neck tingled where that weird man had written on her. She reached back, hoping to wipe it clean. Nothing came off, even when she used her spit. Maybe it was her imagination? The marker in her hand certainly wasnât.
She frowned at its plain body. No labels, just a simple white colour. There was nothing else on the other side when she turned it over, not even a word to explain it to her. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like a normal marker. Whatever, Molly decided and pocketed it. Her set was running low on ink, so sheâd take what she could get. For the meantime, she needed to get home. Then she could look in the mirror.
And also check on the weird feeling between her legs. Molly glanced down at herself but saw nothing out of the ordinary; plaid skirt, blue sweater with her schoolâs logo stitched into it, and her backpack straps. She shrugged it off and stepped out from the subway station, into the warm rays of sunlight. The constant, gentle breeze was cool. A pleasant enough combination.
Then why did her sweater feel so⦠hot? Mollyâs childish features crinkled as she pulled on her top, hoping to relieve the sudden warmth. She groaned and took it off, sighing at the breeze on her naked arms. It wasnât enough, though. Molly undid all the buttons for her polo shirt and opened the neck as best she could. Still not enough. She pouted at her
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