Write another physical "adjustment"

Jaune’s father, Nicholas Arc, had accumulated quite the amount of health during his time being an active Huntsman. Even with having to take care of eight children and ensuring none would be left wanting, there was still enough left in the accounts to set the family up for another decade. One particular investment he and his wife had made was constructing a large two-storey villa up on Ansel’s Hill that overlooks the rest of the village. It was made to house several generations of the Arc family, and it showed. Every one of his siblings was given a bedroom of their own, and there were still about half a dozen other bedrooms to spare. Many a times his sisters would plan sleepovers and use those spares to spend the night with friends, sometimes even roping him in as the target of a dare (he got his first kiss that way) or a living doll to try out clothes or cosmetics (he was glad none took pictures, but the same couldn’t be said for his mother…).

Shaking his head with a sigh, he let the (un)pleasant memories fade away and entered the villa. It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon, so most of his sisters would be out and about with either friends or paramours. His mother, he remembered, said she’d be hanging out with Mrs. Hunny and wouldn’t be back until nighttime. The only people who’d slink indoors over stepping out of the house would be Amber, his twin, and even then, she’d probably be holed up in her room, playing that new MMORPG she discovered, while listening to her favorite rock band with the volume turned up to 11.

In other words, he was free to check himself out in the mirror of his room uninterrupted. He went up the stairs, two steps at a time, and not even feeling a burn in his legs once he reached the landing. Smiling, Jaune entered his room, closed the door, and began to strip. His hoodie first, and now standing shirtless in front of the mirror, he hummed in approval. He did exercise to keep in shape, but he never honestly exerted his body to provide definition to his muscles. A six-pack had been there, before the notebook, but it was as subtle as gray hair in a field of blond. Now, it was impossible to miss, practically eye-catching, and Jaune loved it. The ladies are gonna love this, he thought. He spent a few more minutes flexing parts of his body, watching the contractions create bigger bulges.

Speaking of bulges…

In the interim, his pants were also discarded, and so he stood in his room with nothing but his white briefs. A new thought came upon him, and since he’d already done some changes to his body… what harm was there in a little more?

He took off his briefs, letting his 6-inch penis free, summoned the notebook, and wrote in it:

New Rule: Jaune Arc has a 12-inch long penis.

There was a sense of fascination in wanting to see his very own dick grow twice its length, and the god-like power of the notebook did not disappoint. What took Jaune by surprise, however, was the sensations inadvertently created from the morph. He was no stranger to pleasure, being a healthy and horny teenage male, but this was too incomparable to the times his hand and dick had fun. It started from the base, then travelled all the way to the tip, and the feeling was akin to being on the verge of pissing (or ejaculating). His heart started thumping enough to make him aware of it, and normally that would’ve scared him, but the pleasure was building and building that his focus swiftly returned to his growing dick—growing in the sense that a once flaccid penis was now hardening, rising, and growing, and growing, and growing.

Jaune’s size was average before, but looking at it now… it looked intimidating even for him. He no longer needed to see his feet to focus on the tip, which even now was leaking no small amount of precum.

God, it felt like he took a whole bottle of Viagra and concentrated aphrodisiac. The urge to cum was irresistible; he needed release. Right now. Right fucking now!

He only grabbed ahold of his new cock—and damn does the touch alone feel incredible—before fear crashed through the lust like a runaway train.

“Hey Jaune!” called a voice just outside his room.

Ah shit, I forgot to lock the door! And knowing his sister Amber, she was likely to storm into his room before the thought of knocking comes to mind.