On My Own Terms

byAngelCherysse©

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.

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