ON MY OWN TERMS

[Transgender Stories]

ON MY OWN TERMS
by Cherysse St. Claire

Her name is Krystal, and she takes my breath away. It is as though some
sculptor had chiseled a goddess from marble and then breathed life into his
creation, like some modern-day Pygmalion. She is very tall, with legs that
go on forever. She has full, rounded hips, a deliciously narrow waist, and
full, rounded breasts. She has icy-blue eyes, high, prominent cheekbones, a
straight, narrow nose, and a wide, luscious mouth. She is a beautician who
owns her own salon and really knows how to use make-up to enhance her good
looks. She knows all the new styles to flatter her shoulder-length blond
hair.

We met at the health club. She complimented me on my slim, firm body.
She stated she preferred my physique to that of the body-builders. With
that kind of lead-in, naturally I asked her out. She gave me a strange,
far-away look.

"Will you be willing to accept me on my own terms?"

"I would be willing to accept you on any terms."

"We'll see."

In spite of those ominous words, we had a wonderful time. The first
date begat a second, then a third, and so on. We really tuned in to each
other's wants, needs, and desires. It was only a matter of time before our
relationship became intimate. Krystal is an aggressive lover and likes to
take the active role in love-making. Although she does get off on
intercourse (with her on top, controlling the action), she really goes
crazy over oral sex. I can spend hours licking and sucking her clit, her
big, firm boobs, and stiffly-erect nipples. She comes again and again and
still comes back for more.

I learned that the key to her arousal is a light, gentle approach;
rough handling turns her off like a light. I didn't tell her that I learned
my soft approach through transvestism; I love to express my feminine side
by dressing up as a woman and adopting a soft, passive personality. Over
the years I have become fairly good at it, and this time my experiences
paid off handsomely. Still, I saw no reason to bring the subject up; most
people see it as "queer" and I didn't want to risk losing this woman over a
personal kink.

We gradually introduced other variations into our love-making; light
bondage, teasing and prolonged stimulation, and I partially sated my secret
passions by allowing her to "discover" that I loved anal stimulation. One
Friday afternoon, Krystal called me at work.

"Do you remember that I asked you if you could accept me on my own
terms?"

"How could I forget something as dramatic as that? Why do you ask?"

"I have something special in mind that will affect the future of our
relationship. I want you to come over for dinner tomorrow night. When
you
arrive, you must be prepared to surrender yourself completely to me,
no
questions asked. You will do whatever I request you to do, without
reservation. Do you accept my invitation?"

This was definitely intriguing. The nature of our relationship had allowed
her to be assertive before, but now she was being openly dominant. Most men
would have felt threatened; but then, I wasn't most men.

"I accept your invitation without reservations and I will place myself
completely in your hands. What time would you like me to arrive, and
what
shall I wear?

"Be there at Four o'clock, sharp. What you wear will not matter."

I rang the bell promptly at four the next afternoon. I wondered what
new variation she had in mind that would cause her to leave the shop early
on the busiest day of the week. After a brief wait, the door opened. I
caught my breath. She was dressed in a long-sleeved, scoop-necked
iridescent black spandex leotard which hugged every curve. Her nipples
showed clearly through the flimsy material, as did her swollen labia. Her
long, graceful legs ended in spike-heeled ankle boots. Her golden mane was
pulled back and clasped in a comb. Her make-up was dramatic, provocative,
and sensual.

She took my hand and gently pulled me inside, then closed the door
behind me. Turning around, she stepped toward me and locked me in a tight
embrace, thrusting the full length of her body against mine. She kissed me
deeply, her tongue invading the deepest recesses of my mouth. Finally she
stopped and lifted her eyes to meet mine.

"My darling Michael, you have promised to surrender yourself to me
without
conditions or reservations, that I may do with you as I wish. I will
tell
you that it will not involve pain and that we will both drive pleasure
from
it. Do you agree to these terms?"

"I have been ready since you asked me yesterday. I have been ready
since
the first time I laid eyes on you. Now, what am I ready for?"

"Something I have been looking forward to since the first time I laid
eyes
on YOU, my lovely Michael. I want you to indulge me in a fantasy of
mine. I
work all day making women beautiful; I do their hair, make-up,
fingernails.
I make them gorgeous, and then they go home to their husbands or
lovers. It
isn't fair! I do all the work, but I never get to enjoy the results.
That
is, not until now."

She caressed my cheek, gently scraping her nails against my skin in the way
that sends shivers up and down my spine. She knows it, too. Her eyes never
left mine.

"You are the first man who knows how to be really gentle with me. I
really
like someone who can be...well, feminine. You have a slim build, great
features, and, best of all, a vivid imagination. You are a natural."

"A natural what?"

"Tonight, my love, I am going to work my magic on you. I am going to
transform you into a beautiful woman, and this time I get to keep you
all
to myself!"

My heart was pounding madly in my chest. I couldn't be this lucky. Should I
tell her all, or just play along?

"It sounds really erotic. When do we begin?"

"We already have. I couldn't help but notice that you keep your body
smooth
and hairless. I like that - and it will save a lot of time. Now, get
out
of your clothes and into the tub; I have a nice hot bubble bath
waiting for you."

I was nude in an instant, and allowed her to lead me to the bathroom. I
felt like screaming for joy. Her fantasy? This was MY fantasy! I stepped
into the tub and sank slowly, letting the hot, scented water engulf me,
soothe me, make me docile. She seemed pleased with my attitude; she smiled
warmly and stroked my cheek again.

"You will be Michelle, my lovely girlfriend, for the rest of the
evening.
Relax now, and enjoy the feelings. I have a few details to attend to,
not
the least of which is our dinner, and then I will be back for you."

I soaked for perhaps half an hour. I felt as though I hadn't a care in
the world. How far would she go with this? Will she find me attractive once
I'm dressed, or will she be turned off? Is she really doing this for
herself, or did she find out about me somehow? Whatever the answers were, I
intended to make the most out of the opportunity.

She returned and reached down for my hand. I placed it in hers, then
slowly, gracefully stood up and stepped out of the tub. She patted me dry
with a big, fluffy towel. Then she produced a bottle of lotion and
proceeded to apply it all over my body, gently massaging it in, until my
skin was smooth and supple. She again took my hand and lead me to the
bedroom, where she had my evening's attire laid out on the bed.

First, she selected a pair of black lace bikini panties and had me
step into them. She pulled them up my legs and nestled them snugly around
my hips, tucking my male parts down and backward into the cleft of my
crotch. Then she wrapped a beautiful black satin corset around my torso
and fastened the front busk. She whirled me around and proceded to tighten
the laces ,whittling my already-narrow waist down to a hand-span. Then she
fastened a black lace demi-bra around my chest, adjusted the straps and
placed silicone-filled pads in the cups. She lifted my pectoral muscles and
arranged them on top of the pads, and suddenly I had cleavage!

She handed me a pair of sheer black seamed stockings and told me to
put them on. I took one, bunched it up carefully, inserted my foot gently
into the toe and extended my leg, smoothing the gossamer material up my
ankle, calf, knee, and thigh. I repeated the procedure for the other leg,
then stood up. Krystal smiled warmly, made sure my seams were straight,
then attached the stockings to the garters of my corset. She picked up a
lovely ankle-length, sleeveless evening gown in a beautiful shade of red,
and held it open for me to step into. It was gathered in front and had a
plunging v neckline, and as she zipped it up, it clung snugly to my curves.

Next, Krystal had me step into a pair of red calfskin pumps with five
inch stiletto heels and had me walk across the room to her vanity table. I
was so excited, I felt like skipping across the room. Instead, I strutted
over in short, sure-footed steps with my back straight, my shoulders back,
and my head held high. I reached the stool and sat down gracefully,
crossing my left leg over my right knee, calves close together, and the
right foot slightly turned in. I faced the mirror and looked up, catching
Krystal's eyes as she stood behind me.

I saw the knowing smile on her face and knew instantly that I had made
a mistake; I was not supposed to know how to walk like a woman in high
heels. As if reading my mind, Krystal reached out and cupped the sides of
my face with her hands.

"I was right all along about you, Michelle. I sensed from the very
beginning that you were no stranger to feminine feelings. Now it seems
that
you are no stranger to feminine apparel, as well. You slipped into
your
stockings as though you had been doing it all your life. You walk as
gracefully in high heels as any woman - more so than most. Don't
worry, my
lovely one; I am not offended. In fact..."

She leaned over until I could feel her hot breath on my ear.

"...it's a real turn-on. Now, let's finish bringing out the woman in
you."

She applied my make-up, allowing me to watch in the mirror while she
worked. Throughout the process she kept telling me how good I looked, and
how much she liked what I was becoming. I had to admit that I was looking
good; darkly-shadowed eyelids with silvery highlights, eyeliner deeply
defining the outline of my eyes, mascara enhancing my naturally-long
eyelashes. Rose blush defined the contours of my cheekbones, and my lips
were a plush, delicious scarlet.

She topped me off with a long, ash-blond wig, the soft tresses
caressing my neck and shoulders. Then she fastened a multiple-strand gold
chain necklace around my throat, clipped long, dangling gold earrings to my
ear lobes, and slipped several gold bangle bracelets on each wrist. She
fastened a delicate gold chain around my left ankle and, as a final touch,
sprayed me liberally with a musky cologne.

My lover helped me to my feet and had me walk back across the bedroom
to the full-length mirrors on her closet doors. I was extremely turned on
by the reflection that gazed back at me. I was gorgeous! I looked at
Krystal in the mirror and was amazed by her reaction. Her mouth was
partially open, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she was
perspiring! I also noticed a large wet spot in the crotch of her leotard, a
spot that was getting larger. I turned to face her, reached down, lightly
cupped the spot, and gently squeezed. Krystal closed her eyes, grasped my
shoulders with both hands and shuddered violently. I had never seen her
orgasm this hard, and without any foreplay at all. She had gotten off
simply by seeing me as a woman! After a few moments, she re-opened her
eyes, pressed her body against mine, and leaned close to my ear.

"Get out of here before I lose control completely and rape you on the
spot!
You can light the candles and pour the wine while I get ready. While
you're
at it (she handed me a small box), put these on. I'm sure you know
how."

I looked in the box and smiled; it contained a set of long artificial
fingernails, polished in the same crimson shade as my lips. I strode slowly
out of the room, putting plenty of hipsway into my walk. I knew Krystal
would be watching. And drooling.

I opened the wine and set it aside to breathe. Soft music on the stereo
added the right atmosphere. I sat down to do my nails. After I had
finished, I paused briefly to admire my work. My hands appeared long,
slender and graceful, with scarlet nails extending one inch beyond the
fingertips. With that task accomplished, I lit the candles and turned off
the other lights just as Krystal made her entrance.

She was simply stunning in a black, floor-length, strapless evening
gown. The gown hugged her curves so tightly it could have been sprayed on.
The front was slit from hem to upper thigh, exposing plenty of nylon-clad
leg. She perched regally atop glittery ankle-strap sandals with five-inch
stiletto heels. Her hair was fluffed out into a wild, tousled look which
revealed the long, dangling crystal earrings hanging from each lobe,
complimenting the rhinestone necklace at her throat.

Dinner was sheer Heaven. The air was charged with electricity; sparks
flew back and forth as two sensual, provocative women touched, brushed
legs, traded wanton, wanting glances. When we had finished, Krystal went
into the kitchen and came out with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket
and two fluted wine glasses. She proceeded to the living room, where she
set the champagne and glasses on the table before the couch, then glided to
the middle of the room, turned to face me and held out her arms to me. With
the music still playing, the invitation to dance was unmistakable and
irresistible.

I went to her. We touched, embraced, kissed, and danced with our
bodies pressed tightly together, while our hands explored each other. Each
could feel the mounting passion of the other, and each did her best to
incite that passion. A neck was nibbled here. A hot tongue was pressed into
an ear there. Fingernails were lightly scraped across bare flesh. Blatently
sexual suggestions were whispered.

Krystal broke first. Her legs became wobbly and her eyes were wild as
she grabbed my hands and backed toward the couch. She collapsed on the
cushions with her legs apart, feet wide-set on the floor, and pulled my
head down to her sopping-wet cunt. I ate her like a woman possessed,
sucking hard on her clit, probing deep into her pussy with my tongue, then
licking around the folds of her labia. She came, thrashing and screaming,
again and again; still she would not release my head from her steamy
snatch.

Finally, she released me, lifted me off my knees, turned me around,
and pushed me down on the couch on my back. She raised my skirt, ripped off
my panties, straddled my hips and impaled herself on my throbbing cock. She
rode me with wild abandon until I was delirious with passion and shot my
cum inside her love box.

After the heat of passion subsided, we lingered over our bottle of
champagne, while a fire burned in the fireplace. The logs crackled and
hissed, and Krystal silently watched them burn, seemingly mesmerized by the
dancing flames. At last, she turned to me and spoke:

"I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say. Do not
interrupt me
until I am finished. I have been very happy with you these past weeks.
You
are thoughtful, attentive, and considerate. I have never experienced
that
with a man before. In fact, all of my affairs, all of the really good
ones,
have been with other women. I still get off on a good fucking, but I
need
more; I need the tenderness, the caring of a woman's touch.

Then you came along. I was attracted to you because you have a certain
feminine grace about you without the cattiness that many women
possess.
Still, I know me; I know what I need to be happy. I constantly
wondered
what you would be like as a woman. When we made love, I fantasized
that you
were a hot-blooded bitch with a big cock.

And now this. Look at me. My pussy has been soaking wet all night. I
couldn't keep my eyes or my hands off you. I made love to you like a
maniac. I lost count of the number of times you made me come. I am
madly in
love with you, Michelle. The fact is, I love you BECAUSE of your
femininity, not in spite of it. I know I won't be able to find someone
as
good as you again, in either gender.

I want to make a proposition to you. I want you to quit your job and
move
in with me. I make more than enough from the salon to support us both.
We
will live together for one year. During that time, you will undergo an
intensive course of feminization. I will alter you physically,
mentally,
and emotionally into a woman. You will actually BECOME 'Michelle' for
me. I
believe you want this as much as I do. At the end of the year, you may
decide if you want to continue. If you do, you will undergo the
necessary
final alterations and become my Michelle forever; if not, I will
reluctantly let you go. Now that you know what I really need, will you
accept me on my own terms?"

I had to think about it for a moment. This would be a monumental change
in my life; in fact, I would be forever giving up life as I had known it.
Yet here was a woman I was madly in love with, one that I could never hope
to replace, and she was offering me the chance to fulfill my greatest
fantasy and be her lover and companion for the rest of our lives. In so
doing, she had made herself completely vulnerable to me, revealing her own
darkest, most private secrets. If I refused and walked away, I would have
the ammunition to destroy her life, socially, financially and emotionally.
Very few people ever display that amount of trust in another human
being. In comparison, what did my present life offer that was nearly as
good?

"Look at me; I already AM Michelle. Tonight, you have expressed, in
your own
exquisite style, that which already was. After what we have shared and
experienced tonight, I don't think I could ever go back to being
Michael. I
want, with all my heart, for you to continue my transformation, that I
may
be your Michelle - for you AND for me."

I don't think I have ever beheld such joy in another human being's eyes as
I did at that moment.

By the end of the week I had quit my job, closed my bank accounts,
settled my affairs, and moved in. Krystal disposed of all of my male
clothing, saying that I would not be needing it anymore. She immediately
put me in a tightly-laced corset, bra, panties, stockings, dress, high
heels, make-up, and wig. Then she handed me a pill and a glass of water.

"Take this. I am starting you on estrogen therapy. The hormones, along
with
the corsets and heels, will make the necessary physical changes in you
that
I require. As these changes take place, they will make your mental and
emotional adjustments easier."

There were other changes as well. Krystal pierced my ears so that I
could wear my earrings "more naturally". I was manicured, pedicured, and
given a set of sculptured nails. During the rest of the day she instructed
me on the finer points of make-up application, physical movement,
mannerisms, posture, all the little things that a woman needs to know. Then
she introduced me to a friend who was a speech therapist. I received my
first lesson in speaking in a higher, softer pitch, lessons that were to
become a regular part of my life.

Weeks passed, and I did notice changes in my physique. My waist was
becoming smaller, of course, from the incessant urging of my corsets. But
my hips were noticibly rounder and fuller as well, and my chest seemed to
be fleshier. My nipples were becoming more sensitive, and when I was
sexually aroused, they became fully erect! My skin felt softer and smoother
as well, partly due to the change in my body chemistry and partly because
of the lotions I now smoothed on every day.

The changes became more pronounced as time passed. I was thrilled when
I not only stopped padding out my bras, but started going up in cup
size. My hair had been growing out for some time now, and Krystal began
perming and styling it. It was so nice not to have to wear wigs
anymore. The combination of hormones and voice lessons had changed me into
a natural contralto. Krystal had kept me in high heels constantly, and my
posture, sense of balance, even my feet had changed to the point where it
felt awkward and uncomfortable to wear flat shoes.

I felt much more comfortable as Michelle now, and Krystal seemed
pleased with my progress as well. She decided it was time to bring me into
the shop and train me as a beautician. The other girls knew about me, of
course; there are no secrets in a salon. They accepted me enthusiastically,
complimented me on how good I looked, and made me feel like part of the
"family". It might have been unusual to find so many women in one place who
enjoyed the company of a feminized male, but this is Krystal's salon and
she personally picks everyone who works here. I didn't ask Krystal about
her relationship with them, but I suspected they were much more to her than
faithful employees. No wonder they were so eager to help.

That night, after I had satisfied Krystal orally, she gently pushed me
over and down on my back. She secured my wrists and ankles with cuffs
attached to the four corners of the bed. Then she lifted my hips and slid a
pillow under them to keep them elevated. A smile curled the edges of her
mouth as she slipped off the bed and stepped over to the dresser. She
opened the drawer, reached in, and withdrew a life-like, ten-inch rubber
dildo! She faced me, still smiling, and slowly, dramatically strapped it
on. Then she reached back into the drawer and withdrew a tube of
lubricating gel and generously greased her rubber dong. She sat down on the
edge of the bed, next to me, and gently stroked my hair. The monstrous cock
was inches from my face.

"This has been a day of firsts for you, My Love. Your first day in
your new career. Your first public appearance in your new role. And
now, your first fuck. This should really make you feel like a natural
woman."

She climbed over me and knelt between my spread thighs. She squeezed a
generous portion of gel onto her index finger and invaded my love nest with
it, lubricating me thoroughly. Then she withdrew her finger and placed the
tip of her massive phallus at the entrance of my hole and, holding my hips
for leverage, firmly thrust all ten inches inside me. I gave a short,
shrill cry of pain and surprise. As she continued to thrust in and out, the
pain gave way to intense pleasure, such as I had never known. I writhed and
moaned, just as Krystal had done when I had been inside of her. Finally I
went over the edge and spewed cum all over my stomach . Krystal scooped up
my jism with two fingers, then pressed them between my parted lips and into
my mouth.

"Lick it clean, my love. Swallow it all. That's my good girl. Soon I
will
have you loving the taste of cum. You are going to be a great little
cocksucker."

In the nights that followed she did teach me how to suck cock, using
her dildo for practice. She showed me all the little tricks to do with my
lips, tongue, teeth, and fingernails to drive a man crazy. She also
continued to fuck me with the dildo, gradually building up my dependence on
it to achieve orgasm. And she always made me swallow every drop of my cum.

Before long, I came to prefer this style of love-making. In fact, I
couldn't get enough of it. The hormones had repressed my male erections,
and I was losing all interest in penetrating my lover. I found that I would
much rather have Krystal's big rubber cock inside me. I was feeling more
and more like a woman every day, and Krystal couldn't have been more
pleased. She was increasingly turned on by my oral and receptive role in
our love life. There was a special glow in her eyes when she gazed at me
that told me which way our relationship was headed.

Our "anniversary" was on a Saturday, and Krystal promised me a special
surprise. It began at Five o'clock when we closed the salon. Instead of
rushing out the door as they usually did, the girls all gathered around me
and led me to one of the chairs. As Krystal began working on my hair, each
of the girls worked on a different part of me. Krystal made it clear that I
was not to look at what they were doing; I was to wait until they were
completely finished creating my new "look". I closed my eyes and
concentrated on the sounds, smells, and feelings. I could tell that my hair
was being colored and permed, that I was getting new sculptured nails, a
pedicure, a new make-up job, and even eyelash implants. My damp hair was
moussed and styled with a blow-dryer and styling brush, then set with hair
spray.

At this point I was helped from the chair and led to the dressing room
in the back. I was instructed to close my eyes and move as I was directed
while they were dressing me. The sounds, smells, and sensations were
sensual. I was being corsetted more tightly than I had ever been before. I
detected the heady smell of fine leather and Shalimar, my signature
perfume. I was pushed, turned, gathered, zipped, and stockinged. Finally,
my feet were slipped into a pair of shoes that arched them higher than they
had ever been before. The girls stepped back to admire their work, and
oohed and ahhed appreciatively. Then Krystal turned me around and stood me
before the full-length three-way mirror.

I was stunned speechless. My shoulder-length hair was toussled in a
wild manner, parted on the left, brushed back along the left side of my
head and held in place with a flashing rhinestone comb. The top lifted high
off my scalp, then curled over like a cresting wave. The ceiling lights set
the style ablaze in all its dazzling platinum splendor.

My make-up was equally dramatic. My eyelids were a deep cobalt blue
with silver highlights at the brows. My enhanced eyelashes now framed my
azure eyes in rich, dark fur, made even more dramatic by several coats of
black mascara. Black eyeliner completely rimmed my orbs, giving them
bewitching depth and shape. My prominent cheekbones smoldered in dark-rose
intensity. My lips alone almost made me come; they were painted with a
thick, creamy coat of deep red lipstick, topped by a second coat of shiny
gloss. My mouth was wide, plush, compelling, and oh-so-kissable.

My earrings matched the comb in jeweled flash, gently brushing against
my shoulders as I moved. They were complimented by a brilliant rhinestone
necklace which circled my throat. My tightly-corseted body was encased in a
butter-soft, skin-tight strapless black cabretta leather sheath which began
just above my nipples and ended just below the knees. The built-in cups in
the bodice cradled my 34-B's high on my chest, giving me a deep, luscious
cleavage. The sheath laced all the way up the back and clung to my curves
like wet tissue. My long, shapely legs were encased in whispery-sheer black
seamed stockings and my feet were shod in black patent pumps with six-inch
stiletto heels. The skyscraper heels perched me on my toes, arching my
calves, thrusting my tush and bust out and my shoulders back. The
combination of the ultra-high heels and tight skirt effectively hobbled my
gait to a very dainty twelve inches.

I raised my hands to smooth my dress, and discovered that I now had
talons; my new fingernails were easily one-and-one-half inches long and
polished the same deep red as my lips. I felt so helpless, and yet so
confident; I was tall, shapely, slightly whorish, and devastatingly
beautiful. Every inch of me screamed "FUCK ME", and I knew instinctively
that everyone would want very badly to do just that.

As if to underscore that instinct, I caught my beloved's gaze in the
mirror and saw that her breath was rapid and shallow, as it always is when
she is really randy. I decided to put my theory to the test. I turned to
face her, put my arms around her neck, pressed my leather-clad body against
hers, looked her straight in the eye and quietly said "Come". And she did;
suddenly, violently, right there in front of the other girls. She
shuddered, spasmed, gasped, and held on to me tightly as her legs became
wobbly. I steadied her until the waves of orgasm subsided, then eased her
into a nearby chair.

There was dead silence in the room. I met the gaze of each of the
girls and saw in their eyes that I could do the same to any of them. I
decided there would be time enough for that later, so I gave them each a
slow, sensual hug and a light kiss. I returned to my Love, cupped her chin
with one graceful, feminine hand, and kissed her trembling lips.

"Thank you for my lovely gift. I can't wait to properly show you
how much I adore it. What are our plans for the evening?"

Krystal recovered a bit of her composure at this.

"We are going out. You are my work of art, and tonight I am going to
show
you off to everyone. First, I am going to change. Then we are going to
Oliver's for dinner and dancing. We are really going to break some
hearts
tonight!"

We caused a minor riot in Oliver's that night. It was such a
thrill. Two knock-out blondes dressed in leather and high heels, one in
black, the other in red, was almost more than the patrons could
handle. Most of the women were openly envious, or pretended not to
notice. The men were a different story; I could feel them raping us with
their eyes as we passed, and every one of them had noticeable bulges in
their pants. I played it to the hilt, swaying my hips generously from side
to side as I strutted past them and giving them a look that turned them to
jelly.

We had no trouble finding a place to sit down; we simply walked up to
the booth that had the two best-looking guys in the place and asked them if
we could join them. They couldn't have gotten up faster if they had been
shot from a cannon. There we were, in a crowded nightclub with a place to
sit, two gorgeous escorts to dance with us and buy us drinks, and all we
did was walk in. I had just learned an important lesson; a beautiful woman
has unimaginable power. She can have anything she wants, anytime she wants,
anywhere she wants, because everyone wants her and will give her anything
to get close to her. I cherished that feeling, and knew that I could never
live without it again.

We had a wonderful time. The boys bought us champagne, and we all got a
little silly. I flirted outrageously with Ken, my "date". Krystal was just
as bad with Ken's friend, Rick. We danced a lot, and I practiced the fluid
body motions that Krystal had taught me. During a break, Krystal and I
excused ourselves and went to the Ladies Room to fix our make-up. Krystal
was the first to speak.

"Well, what do you think of Ken?"

"What a Hunk! I'm really attracted to him, but I don't know how far I
should go with him."

"Why not?"

"Because of my feelings for you, my love. My year is over tonight, and
I
have decided that I have never been, nor ever could be, happier than I
am
right now with you. I want to be your Michelle forever. As for Ken,
you
know what I want; you have transformed me, body and soul, into a
woman, and
what woman wouldn't want to get fucked by a stud like him?"

"Then do it."

"What?"

She leaned close to me and placed her hand on my cheek.

"Michelle, my love, I knew one year ago tonight you were the only one
for
me. I offered you a proposition and a proposal. You fulfilled the
first
beyond my wildest dreams. Now you have accepted the second. I am in
ecstasy. I am giving Ken to you as an engagement present. Take him
home and
fuck him silly - and yourself, too. Besides, I am feeling an
overpowering
urge to do the same with Rick. It's just sex, Honey. I told you I
still get
off on a good fucking. I took that ability away from you, and I am not
sorry for a minute, because what I got in return was a thousand times
better. You are, and always will be, the love of my life, but now I
need a
male to give me the cock that I occasionally crave. I know your needs
reflect mine because I transformed you into a woman in my own image.
Rick
doesn't know it yet, but he is about to become my very-willing sex
toy. I
invite you to take Ken as yours. You know how; I taught you. That way,
we
will have the best of both worlds; our very special love for each
other,
and two handsome studs to give us a good fucking when we want it."

We went back to the table, and I knew exactly what to do. I took every
possible opportunity to make body contact with Ken. I touched his arm
lightly while making a point in our conversation. I snuggled up to him and
turned slightly, brushing my tits against him. During the slow dances I
ground my body against his, letting his hands have free access to my ass.
Finally, back at the table, I reached between his legs and lightly squeezed
his rampant hard-on. I pressed my tongue into his ear and whispered:

"Take me home and fuck my brains out."

I could tell Krystal had given the same message to Rick; the two boys
exchanged glances, nodded, and we left, me in Ken's car and Rick driving
Krystal's.

I turned the heat up as Ken drove. I snuggled up next to him and put my
arms around his neck, again letting my taut nipples press against his
arm. I shifted one hand and began running my fingers through his hair,
allowing my nails to gently scrape his scalp. I leaned even closer, and
whispered a steady stream of erotic suggestions in his ear, telling him
what I was going to do to him and what I was going to make him do to me. To
punctuate this, I trailed my index finger down his forehead, nose, lips,
chin, and neck. When I got to his chest, I undid the buttons on his shirt
and reached inside, playing my talons over his flesh.

After a few minutes of this, I withdrew my hand and continued my
downward exploration. When I reached his crotch, I unfastened his belt and
pants, unzipped the zipper, and reached inside for my prize. I was rewarded
with a big, rigid hunk of meat which I carefully released from its prison.
It was a prize indeed; easily the size of Krystal's dildo and just as big
around, with a big, throbbing, purplish head. I could no longer resist the
temptation. I dropped my head to his lap, held the cock firmly with my
right hand and alternately sucked and stroked his monstrous dong. My
ministrations were driving him wild. His knuckles were white on the
steering wheel. His whole body was shaking. As we neared the house, I
tucked him back inside his pants, then zipped and buckled him up.

"We don't want to spoil things by making you come too early, do we?",
I
purred. "I am going to take a good, long time with you and make you
love
it."

I let him open the car door for me and help me out, at which time I
pressed tightly against him and kissed him passionately, probing the
deepest recesses of his mouth with my tongue. I released him, turned, and
strutted towards the door, allowing him to feast on the vision of my
undulating hips, shapely legs, and ultra-high heels. I reached the door,
unlocked and opened it, then turned back to face my lover-to-be. I pressed
close to him once more, flashed him a wide-eyed, pouting smile, and wrapped
my arms around his neck. He took the cue instantly, picking me up in his
arms and carrying me inside. I closed the door with one dainty thrust of my
foot as we went by, then directed Ken with a glance toward the bedroom.

We arrived, and I motioned with my legs to put me down. I paced
regally across the room to the stereo and popped in a cassette. It happened
to be a tape Krystal had used to teach me how to move my body with feminine
grace. The first song was "Obsession" by Animotion, and I adapted my
familiar routine into an erotic strip-tease. I danced back to Ken, keeping
pace with the rhythm, until I was directly in front of him. I abruptly
thrust both arms forward, catching him on the chest and pushing him
backward onto the bed. I then put on my show for him, rolling my shoulders,
jiggling my boobs, undulating my hips, moving up and down, all in tempo
with the music and never once taking my eyes off his.

The combination of feline grace and animal intensity had a narcotic
effect on him. his eyes were transfixed on me; he couldn't have shifted his
gaze if he tried. His breathing became rapid and shallow, just as Krystal's
did, and his massive erection threatened to rip right through the fabric of
his slacks. I toyed with him the entire length of the song; since it was
the extended club mix version, this was a good seven minutes. By the time
it ended, I had peeled off my dress and nothing else.

One of the things that Krystal had taught me was that the sight of a
gorgeous blond in corset, stockings, and high heels was a more powerful
aphrodisiac than the same woman naked. My own love pole was still safely
tucked out of sight inside my black lace panties. I was not going to reveal
my surprise just yet; this was my game, and we would play it by my rules.
Besides, he had enough to look at already, with my full, rounded hips, tiny
waist, and bare, heaving titties.

I slid forward on top of him and kissed him, warmly at first, then with
rising intensity, until I was attacking his mouth with wild abandon. I was
all over him, running my long, graceful fingers through his hair, rubbing
my boobs against his chest, grinding my pelvis against his raging
hard-on. He, in turn, ran his hands all over my backside, from the bare
flesh of my shoulders down over the laced confinement of my corset, across
the broad expanse of my plush buttocks, and along the smooth, supple length
of my stockinged legs. I completely dominated him, stripping off all of his
clothes as I inflamed him, yet not allowing him to do more than feel my
body.

When I had him naked, with his incredible cock thrusting straight up
from his sopping-wet crotch, I smoothly ran my hands along each of his arms
and legs, deftly confining each wrist and ankle with the cuffs attached to
the corners of the bed. By this time he was too far gone to offer any
resistance. Now that he was safely secured, I closed in for the kill. I
propped his head up with a big, fluffy pillow (so he could watch the
action), then slid down until my face was level with his crotch. I went
down on him, taking all of his huge rod into my mouth. I alternately
sucked, licked, and nibbled his cock and balls, just as Krystal had taught
me. At the same time, I raked the flesh of his chest, abdomen, and thighs
with my long fingernails, countering his pleasure with just the right
amount of tension.

After many minutes of this assault, I could tell he was right on the
brink of orgasm. I firmly squeezed the base of his prick to prevent his
explosion. After he had cooled a bit, I released him and climbed off the
bed. I positioned myself so that I was standing right next to his upturned
face. I gave him a wanton look of desire, lips parted, tongue circling my
mouth; then I reached down, hooked my panties with my thumbs, and slowly
drew them off. I wish I could have captured the look on my handsome stud's
face as my she-male "clit" sprang free. I could tell he was in shock, but
he was also too aroused to back off. I had planned it that way. I stifled
his feeble protests with one perfectly-manicured fingertip placed to his
lips, followed by a gentle kiss.

I climbed back on the bed and positioned my love nest over his
spit-slick prong. Keeping my eyes fixed firmly on his, I lowered myself,
impaling my 'pussy' on his massive fuck-pole. I grasped him firmly with my
sphincter muscle and humped him for all I was worth, riding up and down on
his piston like a locomotive gone mad. By now, Ken was completely out of
his mind with passion. The sensations of being wildly fucked by a gorgeous
blond had driven all thought of my gender from his conciousness. It wasn't
long before he cried out and erupted inside of me, filling me up with his
hot, creamy cum. I kept on pumping him, knowing from my own experiences
that this was when his cock was the most sensitive. He bucked and spasmed
wildly beneath me, thrashing his head from side to side.

As he started to shrink, I allowed him to slip out of me. I climbed
off him, took him in my mouth, and sucked his prick clean. By this time,
his cum had started to ooze out of me; I scooped up a generous glob with my
index finger and, while he watched, sucked it slowly, sensually into my
mouth. Then I stretched forward, covering the length of his body with my
own, until we were face-to-face once again. I held his head in my hands and
gave him a searing, cum-filled kiss.

Now it was my turn. All of this loveplay had given me one of my
now-rare erctions. I sat up, high on his chest, with my love-pole inches
from his parted lips. With my hands still clutching his head, I thrust my
cock into his mouth and fucked his face. He hadn't an ounce of protest left
in him; he was emotionally drained, passive, and very receptive to my
thrusts. He sucked me with loud, wet slurping sounds; certainly not as
skillful as I, but adequate for the task. Once I had established the
rhythm, I released his head and used my hands to fondle my breasts,
massaging the tender skin and stimulating my erect, super-sensitive
nipples. In no time at all I was at the edge, then plummeting over, filling
Ken's mouth with my own milky jism. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolled over
me, engulfed me, drowned me.

After a while, when the bliss of orgasm has subsided, I once more laid
out on top of him and kissed him deeply, sharing with him the taste of my
own sweet cream as I had done earlier with his. Then I released his
bindings and snuggled up to him. As I expected, there was no revulsion of
my trans-gendered status; he saw me as a beautiful, highly-sexed woman. He
confirmed this with the swelling of a new erection.

We made love for hours. I alternately sucked him off and humped him
until he didn't have an ounce of semen left in him. Some time later,
Krystal and Rick came in to join us. Ken helped Krystal and me introduce
Rick to the joy of She-male love.

Krystal and I made plans for our very special wedding ceremony. The
most important, of course, was the fulfillment of my pledge to her. She had
spent the last year transforming me into a beautiful and accomplished
woman, and had performed the task well. I was completely caught up in the
spell, and could not conceive of going back to what I had been
before. Ever. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to go all the
way to Womanhood. I am thrilled with the results of my operation. I will
never miss my cock; I adore my smooth, sensitive new pussy.

And my breasts---wow! Krystal decided that I was going to be VERY
busty and I didn't argue with her. I always wanted to have BIG, round,
bouncing boobs, and now I do! I spill out over my 34-D bras with incredible
pulchritude. I can't wait to make love as a real woman, but I have to;
Krystal insists that I be a "virgin" bride. That does not mean we have
stopped having sex altogether. We eat each other like two wild animals,
sharing the passion and special closeness that only women can know.

I never thought I would be one to get nervous on my wedding day. But
here I am, fussing and fretting over every little detail, just like any
other bride. The resemblence ends there; no other bride ever looked like
this on her wedding day. I am dressed in white, as every "virgin" does, but
this apparel will never appear in Brides Magazine. My foundations are
deepest black, as befitting my sluttish nature. I am wearing a brand-new
leather corset which whittles my waist to the smallest it has ever
been. The built-in underwired demi-cups cradle my breasts high on my chest,
pushing them together to form a deep crevasse of cleavage.

My long, graceful legs are encased in sheer black seamed stockings
which mark my whorish proclivities. I wear a lace-over-satin gown that
begins at my ankles and hugs my curves all the way up to my bustline. From
there to the ends of the long, fitted sleeves it is see-through lace only.
The bodice is scooped out right down to my bustline. The effect is that my
breasts are completely visible through the sheer lace, and accessible to
anyone who wants to fondle them. I am perched regally atop white patent
pumps with my trademark six-inch spike heels. My Love has informed me that
I will live in six-inch stilettos for the rest of my life as a symbol of my
devotion to her, and I wear them proudly.

My make-up, hair, and fingernails are the same as they were on the
night of our anniversary, when I pledged myself to Krystal and Womanhood
forever. After all, it is an obligation to preserve a "work of art" for all
to see. It was my decision not to wear a veil. I am deeply proud of what I
have become; at 39-20-36, I am every inch a woman. I have no wish to hide
ANYTHING.

As I glide gracefully up the aisle, I see my beautiful Krystal waiting
for me in her "tuxedo"; a black satin morning coat with tails over a
matching black satin minidress. The hem of the dress barely covers her
lovely ass, and the scooped bodice makes her breasts as readily-accessible
as my own. Her legs are encased in the same sheer black nylon as mine, and
she is perched on towering black patent spikes.

The girls from the salon are my lovely attendants, and Ken and Rick
stand up for Krystal. There was no problem getting them to agree to this
arrangement. They understand the special love Krystal and I share, and they
are happy to help us celebrate that love. They have no choice. They belong
to us now; body and soul. They are helplessly, hopelessly under our spell.
They understand that they are our possessions, our personal playthings, and
have no wish to end the arrangement. They would do anything for
us. Absolutely anything.

As we exchange our vows, I glow with love and contentment. She takes my
hand and slips the wedding band on my finger, We seal our vows with a
searing kiss, grinding our bodies together in a passionate embrace. The air
is charged with sexual tension, transmitted from us to everyone in the
room. We openly explore each other's bodies with our hands and rub
nylon-clad leg against leg, oblivious to our surroundings. I have easy
access to her barely-hidden pussy; she, in turn, opens the hidden,
full-length zipper in the front of my gown, revealing my own soaking-wet
snatch.

After long minutes of insistent manipulation with long, slender
fingertips, we clutch each other frantically in an earth-shattering mutual
orgasm. Our gasps and moans punctuate the otherwise dead-silence of the
room, as everyone is caught up in the throes of voyeuristic fascination and
lust.

I am ecstatic. I now have everything I have ever dreamed of; a gorgeous
woman who loves me as much as I love her, a handsome, well-hung stud to
give me a good fucking whenever I want it, and my own breath-taking
femininity. We will leave on our honeymoon tonight; just Krystal, myself,
and our two handsome sex toys. It is so wonderful to live Life on my own
terms.