Important note: as always for futanari stories, this is a very crazy story! It is not for everyone. In it, you'll find something akin to transsexual transformation, anal and magic. There is absolutely NO bestiality in this story, but a well-hung futanari can certainly roleplay a bit, right?
Edited by: Pope1944. Thanks!
I've been drawn to Angela ever since meeting her years ago. We had become good friends but to my eternal chagrin, nothing more. I had tried to court and seduce her, but after a few weeks, she had sat me down and explicitly told me that it would not happen. I had been heartbroken for a few weeks until she called me and asked me out for a movie. As friends. Even though I had still been frustrated, I knew I would miss her too much if I moved away from her friendship. We had always had way too much fun together.
As the years went by, I was continually surprised to see that she was almost always single. And the few boyfriends she would have never lasted more than a month or so. Maybe two. When I asked her about it, all she would say was that she was very picky. Yet that didn't make much sense... I understood that some people were choosy, but she was so gorgeous and so sexy that she had a continuous stream of suitors coming to her. They couldn't all be uninteresting or jerks.
At one point I seriously wondered if she was a lesbian. For a few months a couple of years ago a girl, Amber, seemed to be closer than her other friends. They hugged more often than seemed necessary, hung out a lot, spent nights at each other's apartment, etc... Yet while Angela was rather a conventional girl, Amber was anything but. She was wild, with green hair and a few piercings on her face, dressed like a girl from the 80's and didn't seem to have anything in common with Angela.
After a while Amber drifted away and I never saw her again. One night while we were both very drunk, I asked Angela about her. She looked at me for a long while, then smiled and told me that she had been an experiment. And while fun, Angela had proven to herself that she wasn't a lesbian. I had been shocked to hear her say that out loud. While it explained Amber, it didn't explain why Angela was single for such long stretches.
About a year ago I began wondering if something was wrong with her. Mentally she was fine. More than fine actually; she was fun to be around, brilliant, had a good sense of humour and was a good listener. Physically, she looked even better. She was tall at 5 feet 10 inches, quite athletic despite remarkably feminine curves. Her large breasts were majestic, her belly was smooth, her hips screamed easy-childbirth and her long legs seemed to come from a very fit mare. Like the horses she loved so much, Angela was a beautiful coltish young woman.
In fact, I often teased her about her obsession with horses. Talking about them, being around them, raising them or riding them, Angela's life seemed to orbit around horses. She liked to be with them as often as she could. All through college, where she studied to be a vet of course, she found jobs at horse ranches and even volunteered for a few of them.
And so I had associated her beauty with that of horses. She was stunning. And yet... The more I thought about it, the more I realized a few things about her appearance. First, there was a pattern in her choice of clothing. I had never seen her wearing those lycra skin-tight pants that most young women wore these days. Nor very tight shorts. And it wasn't because she was prude. Oh no. She liked to wear form-fitting tank tops or low cut blouses that didn't hide her stunning cleavage, always wore bras that enhanced it and liked to wear short skirts to show off her legs. Yet while she had the legs and ass made for those lycra pants, she never wore them.
Second, I had never seen her in a bathing suit. Not even a one piece conservative one. Come to think of it, I had never seen her swimming in all the years that we've known each other. Mysterious. As the weeks went by, I was attentive to the clothes she would wear, and I realized that the pattern was real. I tried inviting her to the beach a few times and she never accepted, even on glorious summer days. Something was up! But what? I had no idea.
Despite that mystery, I was still profoundly attracted to her. I had made my peace about only being her friend a long while ago, but my body didn't care about that. Every time I saw her I felt a deep pulse of pleasure. She was so damned sexy and seemed to radiate a constant field of lust and desire! On the other hand I couldn't do much about it.
I don't consider myself a pervert, but one day an opportunity presented itself and I couldn't resist. The building where she rented her apartment was infested with bed bugs. For an entire weekend, while the landlord was trying to get of them, all the tenants had to leave. When Angela asked if she could spend the two nights at my place, I accepted happily. At this point in our relationship, I didn't even consider that this could open a door for a night together. Not even a little bit. She knew where I stood, knew what I felt for her. If she ever changed her mind or her heart, all she had to do was say the word.
When she came out of my guest room Saturday morning, dressed in flannel pants and a loose tank top, I did a double take. The tank top was pretty old and while it didn't hug her curves, it still left very little to the imagination. Her large breasts, free from any bra, swung around and it took me a few seconds before I could tear my eyes away from them. Angela seemed to realize how she was dressed and said "Oh, I'm sorry..."
"Don't be sorry." I replied. "You know I find you absolutely gorgeous. If you don't mind me stealing a few glances, don't change on my account." Angela looked at me with a soft smile for a few moments and eventually nodded before sitting down at the table.
When I realized that she had changed clothing last night and would change again before going out, an idea popped into my head. Could I hide my camcorder and... No. No, that would be quite inappropriate. Perverted even. I hook my head and tried to forget about it. But I couldn't. The thought of watching her undress in HD was intoxicating. I spent the day alone in the apartment until she came back for dinner, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.
If she ever found out she would be appropriately pissed. Then again, all I'd be doing was watching. What was the harm? In the back of my mind I knew that this wasn't a good argument, that privacy and consent were too important to ignore... But some of my blood was flowing down to my cock and apparently, it was enough to weaken my moral fibre.
Well before she came back, I installed and hid my camcorder. It was an easy thing to do, with a bookcase filled with boxes of discarded electronic stuff. Looking at it, I knew there was little chance of her finding it. If she did, though... Sighing, I knew it was a risk I was willing to take. I couldn't imagine her being very very angry with me anyways.
When I went to bed later that night, after spending an extremely pleasant evening with her, I had trouble falling asleep. An hour after turning out the lights, I knew that the camera had probably caught her stripping naked. I was hard as a damned rock, masturbating slowly. I imagined her stripping down, moving about for a few minutes, applying lotion all over her body, caressing her thighs, her breasts, her pussy... Could she even be masturbating right now in front of my camera? Shit! That thought pushed me over the edge and I climaxed really hard.
Early next morning, part of me felt bad for doing this. When she came out of her room, dressed like yesterday morning, I was nevertheless glad that to have done it. "Gods your beautiful Angela..." I whispered as she yawned. She giggled, reddened slightly and laughed as she sat down.
After spending a couple of hours together, she left to go shopping. Alone in my apartment I took a few breaths, enjoying the anticipation. Little did I know that I would get the shock of my life. A few minutes later the clip was uploaded to my computer and I sat down to watch it. I fast forwarded it until I saw her appear and close the door behind her. In a matter of seconds her shirt was off and I could see her bra.
And her breasts. Dear gods! Angela had on a magnificent blue bra with red highlights. Somehow that bra took her full and heavy breasts and lifted them upwards, pushed them forwards and made them seem like they defied gravity. They were way too big to stand out like this, as if they were nothing more than perky 18 year old 32B breasts. But they were not 32B. Shit they were big!
Before I could wrap my head around the fact that I was watching Angela's breasts covered with nothing more than her bra, I watched her reach behind her back. In a matter of seconds she had unsnapped her bra and let it slip down her arm to fall on the bed. Oh my goodness... Her two breasts did fall slightly when the bra disappeared, but not by much! So not by much.
My eyes opened wide and I gasped as I finally saw her breasts in their full glory, crystal clear on my display. My eyes locked onto her nipples, following them as Angela moved around the room. Her nipples were so damned big! Even bigger than her large breasts could account for. Not her aureolas, but her nipples. They stood out big and proud atop her breasts. When Angela slipped her hands under, then over and then on either sides of her breasts, I cried out. Seeing her flesh move and bugle and bounce back like this... It was way too intense! Her breasts seemed so damned full and firm!