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 transexual transformation, deepthroating, anal and magic. Enjoy!
Edited by: Pope1944. Thanks!
John wasn't feeling good. Not at all. He was alone in his flat and had been like this pretty much since he lost his job a couple of months ago. Months before that he had begun fighting what he had thought was nothing more than tiredness. Then a few weeks of having a bad mood. Then exhaustion. A burn out? Him? Never! But his mood and energy levels had dropped so low that he couldn't function at his job. His stern refusal to see a shrink about what his boss said was a clear burn-out had been the final drop and John lost his job.
Months later he couldn't deny that he was burnt out. Pretty badly. He could only manage to get out to buy frozen food and see his shrink twice a week. Nothing more. His life was a living hell. A boring hell, but hell nonetheless. The fact that his shrink was a beautiful woman barely registered in John's mind.
In the months before he acknowledged his burn out he had hurt and even ruined some of his most important friendships. His phone hadn't rung or vibrated in two weeks now. The mere thought of picking it up to apologize to a lot of people made him moan in despair.
When his shrink suggested that he go to a bar to get wasted, John realized two things. First, his shrink was unorthodox. Second, the fact that he hadn't touched a drink in weeks could be the only silver lining of this whole burn-out thing. He hadn't been an alcoholic before, but he drank about one or two drink every day. Not often drunk, but still...
At first the idea of going to a bar was unacceptable. He would probably meet a few people he knew, and so a few people who now hated him. His shrink had told him that those people probably didn't hate him. His depression was twisting his perceptions. Nevertheless, confronting them was out of the question. When his shrink suggested going to a bar he had never been to, far across town, he hadn't said no outright.
Looking at his phone now, he knew it was the right time to leave for the bar. And to call a cab. It took him twenty minutes, but he did it. Every damn step (opening the door, telling the driver the address, paying him, getting out of the cab, opening the bar's door, etc...) required unbelievable amounts of effort. But he had been ready, had even rehearsed it with his beautiful shrink.
So now he was sitting at the bar, drinking whiskey at a steady pace. He wasn't there to meet people, wasn't there to mingle. He was there to get drunk and see what happens. Sitting there alone in the crowd, he wondered again if his shrink was crazy. After three whiskeys' worth of silently brooding at the bar, a young woman appeared at his side. Her bright blue-green dress caught his eye and he quickly looked her up and down. It took John a few seconds before he realized he was smiling, the first time in a long time.
The woman was stunning. She was rather tall even considering her high heels, with very decent breasts despite her slimness, a small waist and what seemed like solid hips and thighs. The dress didn't cover much of the woman's legs and his eyes widened as he looked down. The woman appeared to be around 25, and despite her breasts' perkiness, she wasn't wearing a bra; the opened back would have let him see any bra. It didn't look like she was wearing panties either for that matter: the dress's fabric was very thin and stretchy and would have made even the thinnest panties visible. Her very long hair hung loose and slightly wild over that exposed back.
When he looked back up, the woman was looking right at him. At first John was startled and looked away, realizing that he must be drunker than he had thought. He didn't usually get caught like a teenage boy when gawking at beautiful women. But then the woman's peculiar blue-green eyes, a close match to her bright dress, pulled his own eyes back.
Her expression was neutral, but she definitely had seen him ogling her. Flustered and more than a little dismayed by her amazing eyes, John said "I'm sorry... Let me pay for your drink and I'll let you go back to your life without rude men." The woman didn't immediately reply. After fishing his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out a twenty, John looked up at her again, puzzled by her silence.
When she finally spoke, John was surprised by her voice. It was really low pitch. Not like a man's, but extremely sensuous. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"
"What?" John replied, shocked. "Look, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"Shhh" she interrupted him with a finger on his lips. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"
John was surprised by her behavior and questions, but replied in what he hoped was a calm voice. "Of course you are, that's--"
"So why are you apologizing?" she asked in that sultry voice.
"I... Well I..."
Suddenly defeated by his shame and the effort of trying to explain himself, John sagged on his bench. Before he could apologize one last time and excuse himself, she sat down on the bench next to his. Reflexively he looked down at the darkness between her thighs as she did. Realizing what he had just done, to a woman who had been looking at him the whole time, John covered his eyes with his hand and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm really not good company tonight."
When he tried to get up, he felt her hand on his arm. Looking at her in surprise, John sat back down. She said "I'm Alexa. There's one thing I want you to consider before you leave. When you'll be back home, alone, thinking about me sitting here on the stool next to yours, will you regret leaving?"
John had never met a woman like this. Very direct and forward. And very beautiful. "Of course I will. I never get accosted by women as beautiful as you are. Especially not after ogling them like I did." John stopped himself and narrowed his eyes. Was she a...
The woman smiled, then said "You're wondering if I'm a prostitute looking for a vulnerable client? No, I'm not. You may also be wondering, because of my low voice, if I'm a gay crossdresser. I'm not either." she finished with a different sort of smile.
John hadn't even thought of that second possibility. He knew that such crossdressers existed and that a very small minority of them preyed on drunk men in bars. Now that he thought about it, he glanced at her cleavage, then at her face. She didn't look at all like a man wearing a dress and make up. And that cleavage... It looked too delicious to be fake. Then again... "Well," he started, with a nervous smile, intending to make a joke and compliment at the same time "if you're a gay man, your breasts are amazing!"
