The lecture hall at the Ivy Combat Academy stretched before them like a monument to academic futility. Grand stone archways soared overhead, their surfaces carved with intricate depictions of legendary Doms mid-fuck, their massive cocks erupting in fountains of crystallized mana. The walls pulsed with a soft blue glow from the mana-conduits that snaked through the stonework like veins of liquid light. Through the tall windows, other students could be seen in brutal sparring sessions—Bitches and Doms locked in vicious combat, their bodies gleaming with sweat and liquid mana as they hammered each other with bone-crushing force.
But here, in this forgotten corner of the academy, sat the twenty-three most miserable students in the entire institution.
Milkwood "Milky" Ashcroft adjusted her pristine academy uniform and pulled out her leather-bound notebook with the kind of meticulous precision that made lesser students want to punch her in her perfect Sow face. Her impossibly large breasts—already impressive for someone still technically unbound—pressed against her uniform as she leaned forward, the fabric straining against her nipples which had begun to stiffen into hard, aching points in the cool air. Each breath caused her tits to rise and fall hypnotically, the outline of her areolas clearly visible through the thin material. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a neat bun, not a strand out of place, and her green eyes sparkled with the kind of intellectual hunger that marked her as nobility from the powerful Ashcroft pride. Her thighs pressed together beneath the desk, a subtle friction that sent tiny jolts of pleasure through her unbounded body as her natural Sow instincts and her wet, weeping cunt craved the mana-infused seed that would complete her transformation.
She was, according to every instructor and student who'd ever met her, destined to be the perfect pridemate to Damask, the Heir to the Ivy Court. The fact that she was sitting in "History & Genetic Legacy"—universally acknowledged as the most useless class in the academy—was either a cruel joke or political maneuvering she hadn't yet figured out.
Beside her, Kestrel "Kest" Ravenscroft slouched in her seat with the kind of practiced indifference that came from years of being the most lethal person in any room. Her lean, muscular frame was coiled like a spring, ready to explode into violence at a moment's notice. Her dark hair was cropped short in a practical military style, and her amber eyes constantly scanned the room like a predator searching for threats. The combat knife she was currently using to clean her nails wasn't academy-issued—it was a personal blade that had tasted blood in real combat, not the sanitized sparring matches the other students were used to. Her internal cock stirred restlessly within her vaginal cavity, a constant, wet reminder of her deadly potential. Even unbounded, she could feel the weapon-organ shifting and hardening inside her, eager to extend and dominate lesser threats.
As Damask's current pridemate and second-in-command, Kest had been "encouraged" by the royal family to attend this particular class. She'd rather be gutting enemies in the field, but duty was duty. Even if that duty apparently involved sitting through lectures about shit she could learn by getting fucked properly by her Dom. The thought of Damask's cock stretching her ass while pumping genetic wisdom directly into her brain made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, her internal phallus twitching with a hot, wet pulse of arousal.
At the front of the lecture hall, Archivist Linette "Link" Valorian stood behind a podium that seemed far too large for his slight frame. The Fem's hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles, his pale blue eyes darting nervously between his notes and the sea of bored, hostile faces before him. His academy robes hung loose on his small body, and despite his formal title, everything about him screamed "fuck-toy" rather than "instructor." His small cock pressed against his underwear beneath his robes, already beginning to leak precum from the nervous arousal that came from being the center of attention. His tight little asshole clenched involuntarily as he imagined the brutal fuckings that would inevitably come once the real instruction began.
"The—the Gene-Virus," Link began, his voice steady but academic, "represents an interesting challenge to traditional knowledge transfer methods. It's a regional concern we've been tracking—affecting some border settlements where the sacred binding rituals occasionally show reduced efficiency. The virus seems to create a mild interference with genetic integration during intimate congress."
A few students snickered. One Bitch in the back row loudly yawned, her hand unconsciously moving to stroke the outline of her internal cock through her pants.
Milky leaned forward, her massive tits nearly spilling out of her uniform top, her pen poised over her notebook. "Instructor Link, could you elaborate on the specific mechanisms by which the virus interferes with mana-genetic integration during binding rituals?"
Link's face flushed pink, his small cock hardening further at the sight of Milky's cleavage. "Well, you see, when a Dom's seed enters the pridemate's holes during the traditional deep-fucking ceremonies, the genetic code should automatically—"
SLAM.
The lecture hall door burst open with a sound like thunder, and every student in the room immediately sat up straighter. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as Instructor Griselda "Gristle" Galvana strode into the room, her massive frame filling the doorway like a living storm cloud.
The legendary Dom was everything the stories claimed and more. Her body was a temple of barely contained violence—muscles rippling beneath her academy instructor's coat, her massive breasts straining against the fabric with each breath. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, revealing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying, with scars that told stories of battles fought in realms most students couldn't even imagine. But it was what pressed against her coat that made every student in the room unconsciously hold their breath—the outline of a cock so massive it seemed to have its own gravitational pull. Even soft, the enormous phallus created a thick, heavy bulge that ran halfway down her thigh, pulsing with barely contained mana and sexual energy.
"What the fuck is this pathetic whimpering?" Gristle's voice boomed across the lecture hall, rough as gravel and twice as sharp. Her predatory gaze swept over the students before settling on Link, who had gone pale as parchment. "Linette, you sweet little cock-sleeve, are you seriously trying to explain the Gene-Virus without demonstrating proper fucking technique?"
Link's voice cracked, but he puffed out his chest, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Instructor Gristle, I am the lead on this project. The clinical approach seemed most appropriate for—"
"Clinical?" Gristle's laugh was like breaking glass. "You think you can teach these brats about genetic transfer without showing them how a proper Dom breeds knowledge into her pridemates? No wonder they look ready to fall asleep. If I have to be stuck babysitting this class, the least we can do is make it interesting."
She stalked to the front of the room, her heavy boots echoing off the stone floor. With each step, the massive bulge in her coat seemed to pulse with barely contained energy, growing larger and more prominent as arousal began to overtake her. Link instinctively stepped back, but Gristle's hand shot out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her.
"Tell me, Link," she purred, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the room, "what's the point of explaining the Gene-Virus if these little fuckers don't understand what they're losing?"
"The... the traditional knowledge transfer methods are sacred—"
"Sacred?" Gristle's grip tightened, her thumb brushing against Link's trembling lower lip. "They're fucking survival. Every time a Dom splits a pridemate's ass open and pumps them full of seed, she's not just getting her rocks off—she's rewriting their genetic code, upgrading their bodies, making them into perfect weapons and vessels for her will. And now some regional quirk from the outer settlements is cockblocking the entire species? Not on my fucking watch!"
She released Link and turned to face the students, her hands moving to the fastenings of her coat. "This Gene-Virus isn't just a medical curiosity, you dim-witted little shits. It's a threat to the very foundation of our civilization. Without the ability to properly fuck knowledge into our pridemates, we're going to lose everything—our combat techniques, our magical knowledge, our entire fucking history."
The coat hit the floor with a heavy thud, and several students gasped audibly. Gristle's body was a masterpiece of Futanari engineering—every muscle perfectly defined, her massive breasts crowned with dark nipples that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. But it was her cock that dominated the room's attention. The massive phallus hung between her legs like a weapon of war, easily as thick as Link's wrist and long enough to split a person in half. Dark veins pulsed along its length, and the head was already beginning to swell with arousal, a thick bead of precum forming at the tip.
Around the room, students began to shift uncomfortably as their own arousal responses kicked in. Several Bitches felt their internal cocks beginning to extend, creating wet spots in their underwear. The Sows' nipples hardened visibly through their uniforms, and more than one Fem felt their small dicks growing stiff in their pants.
"This is what real power looks like," Gristle growled, her hand moving to stroke her length. The massive cock responded immediately, swelling larger and harder with each pump of her fist. Precum began to drip steadily from the tip, creating a small puddle on the stone floor. "This is the tool that shapes reality, that binds pridemates to their Dom, that transfers the genetic legacy of our species. And some fucking virus thinks it can shut down the greatest engine of civilization ever created?"
Link's face had gone from pale to bright red. The musky scent of Gristle's arousal was overwhelming, making his small cock painfully hard and leak precum that was beginning to soak through his robes. But beneath her musk, he caught another, sharper scent—strong, cheap liquor. She's drunk, he realized with a jolt. The grand pronouncements, the theatrical doom-saying about the Gene-Virus… it wasn't just a lesson, it was a performance. A drunkard's bombastic sermon. The realization did nothing to quell the terrified, humiliating arousal her sheer presence commanded, but it sharpened his focus. He had to regain control of this circus. "Instructor Gristle, perhaps we should discuss the assignment—"
"Assignment?" Gristle's eyes lit up with predatory interest. She continued stroking her massive cock, which was now fully erect and pointing directly at the terrified Fem. "Oh yes, Link. The special project. The one handed down directly from the Domina herself." She turned back to the students, her cock now fully erect and pointing at them like an accusation. "Listen up, you worthless little fuckers. The Queen of the Ivy Court has decreed that this academy will produce the first comprehensive written codex of Futanari biology, history, and mana cultivation. A backup plan for when the Gene-Virus makes it impossible to fuck knowledge into thick skulls."
She gestured at Link, who fumbled with his papers while trying to hide his obvious arousal. "Our precious archivist here will be overseeing the project, but I'll be making sure you actually learn something useful instead of just memorizing sterile academic bullshit."
Her gaze swept over the students before settling on Milky and Kest. "You two. The eager beaver and the professional killer. You're going to be our primary research team. While the rest of these wastes of space handle basic information gathering, you'll be working directly with Link and me to compile the core sections of the codex."
Milky's hand shot up, her massive tits bouncing with the movement. "Instructor Gristle, I'm honored by the opportunity to contribute to such an important project. Might I suggest we begin with a comprehensive analysis of the four-caste system and its biological foundations?"
Gristle's grin was all teeth. She moved closer to Milky, her massive cock swaying hypnotically with each step. "Look at that, Link. The little Sow actually wants to learn. What about you, Kest? Ready to find out why your pridemate training didn't include a fucking history lesson?"
Kest's amber eyes met Gristle's without flinching, though her internal cock was now fully extended within her vaginal cavity, creating a visible, wet bulge in her tight pants. "With respect, Instructor, I fail to see how book learning will make me better at cutting throats or protecting my Dom."
"That's exactly the kind of shortsighted thinking that's going to get our species extinct," Gristle snarled. She moved closer to Kest, her massive frame looming over the seated Bitch. Her cock was now close enough that Kest could smell the musky scent of arousal and mana that emanated from it. "You think your fancy combat training makes you unstoppable? Wait until you come up against an enemy who knows the true history of Dusting techniques, who understands the deeper mechanics of mana cultivation, who can exploit weaknesses in your biology that you don't even know exist."
She moved closer to Kest, her massive cock nearly brushing against the Bitch's face. "Tell me, little warrior, what do you know about the Fem-Strapon technique?"
Kest's expression didn't change, but Milky noticed the slight tension in her shoulders and the way her thighs pressed together. "I'm familiar with the basic concept, Instructor."
"Basic concept?" Gristle laughed, her cock twitching with amusement. "You know it exists, but do you know why it works? Do you understand the mana-processing advantages of using a Fem as a living weapon? Do you know the seventeen different variations and when to use each one?"
She gestured at Link, who had gone even paler but whose cock was now visibly tenting his robes. "This sweet little cock-sleeve here could probably recite the entire technical manual from memory. But could he actually perform the technique if his Dom's life depended on it? Could you counter it if an enemy tried to use it against your pride?"
The lecture hall had gone dead silent. Even the most disinterested students were now hanging on every word, their own arousal evident in the way they shifted in their seats and the visible bulges in their uniforms.
"That's the difference between knowledge and wisdom," Gristle continued, her hand still slowly stroking her massive cock. "Knowledge is knowing that the Fem-Strapon technique exists. Wisdom is understanding that it's the most effective way for a Dom to Dust another Dom without risking her own genetic material. And wisdom comes from experience—from fucking, from fighting, from pushing your body and your pridemates to their absolute limits."
She turned back to Link, who was frantically shuffling through his notes while trying to hide his arousal. "But our little archivist here is right about one thing—if the Gene-Virus keeps spreading, we're going to need written records as a backup. So here's how this is going to work."
Gristle moved to the blackboard and began writing with aggressive, slashing strokes, her massive cock swaying with each movement. "Link will provide the theoretical framework, the academic foundation. I'll provide the real-world applications, the practical knowledge that can only come from decades of brutal experience. And you two—" she pointed at Milky and Kest "—will bridge the gap between theory and practice."
She finished writing and turned back to the class. On the blackboard, in letters that seemed to burn with their own intensity, were the words: THE COCKBOUND CODEX: A SURVIVAL MANUAL FOR THE FUTANARI SPECIES.
"This isn't just a history project," Gristle announced, her cock now fully erect and dripping precum steadily onto the floor. "This is a weapon. A tool that might be the difference between our species thriving or becoming extinct. And you're going to help build it."
The silence that followed was pregnant with possibility and terror. Milky's pen hovered over her notebook, her mind already racing with questions and theories, but her body was responding to the overwhelming sexual energy in the room. Her nipples were painfully hard, pressing against her uniform, and she could feel a hot, wet slickness gathering between her thighs. Kest's hand had unconsciously moved to her combat knife, her warrior's instincts recognizing the gravity of what they were being asked to do, but her internal cock was fully extended and throbbing with a wet, hungry pulse.
In the front of the room, Link clutched his papers to his chest like armor, his small body trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. His cock was fully erect now, creating an obvious tent in his robes, and he could feel precum soaking through his underwear. The assignment was beyond anything he'd imagined when he'd been sent to this "useless" class.
And in the center of it all, Gristle stood like a monument to barely contained violence, her massive cock still jutting proudly from her body, precum dripping steadily from the tip onto the stone floor. The musky scent of her arousal filled the room, mixing with the subtle arousal responses of the students to create an atmosphere thick with sexual tension.
"Class dismissed," she growled, her voice rough with arousal. "Milky, Kest, Link—you stay. We have work to do."
As the other students filed out in stunned silence, many of them adjusting their uniforms to hide their obvious arousal, the lecture hall became Gristle's private workshop. The air, thick with her musk and the scent of cooling precum, crackled with unspoken orders. The project had begun. For Milky and Kest, their time as simple students was over. For Link, his role as a detached archivist was about to be brutally redefined. All three were now raw materials for Gristle's forge.