Mickie and Laurie Pt. 10

The next evening, Mickie was already there when I got home from work. She had gone through my wardrobe and had selected several possible outfits for me. She had also gone out and picked up some more footwear, even though I was still infatuated with the platform sandals, and a few new items of clothes. What a thoughtful spouse.

I stripped down and took off my wig so that I could see my hair in combination with the clothes. Mickie watched critically as I tried on various dresses and skirts, and she especially liked a combo of a light, sleeveless top, a dark red skirt, and some new black knee-high boots that she had bought me. I thought it looked fabulous too. But then she questioned whether this was a good outfit for the dance floor. I wasn't sure, but it looked so cute that I didn't care.

She then pulled out two pairs of charcoal colored skinny jeans that she had just bought, and had me try one of them on. The first pair fit really nicely--snug but not too tight. If anything, the waist was a little bit loose. As I looked at my front and back, I saw that my caged clit was pretty apparent, and that was going to be a problem.

Next she told me to try the others. These were harder to pull on, and were clearly a smaller size. Although I could get them over my butt, it was work to get the zipper up and button them. I could see a little roll of fat above the too-tight waist. Too bad, because my legs and butt looked phenomenal in them.

"OK, the first ones are great for you, and this other pair is aspirational," said Mickie. "If you stay focused, you'll fit perfectly in them in a few weeks." I hoped she was right. She told me to put the first pair of jeans back on.

"Now let's try this top," she said, pulling a piece of black fabric out of one of her bags and handing it to me. It was made of a satin-like material and sleeveless, with a halter top. I realized there was very little back to it, just a tie that went across the lower back. I slid it over my head and put my arms through, and then Mickie tied it in back. It looked fantastic. The lines were slender, but the cut didn't emphasize my flat chest. But so much flesh was exposed! I wasn't sure about that. My pale skin and dirty blonde hair really stood out against the black of the top.

Mickie was sure. "That's the outfit, she said," spinning me around in front of the mirror. I had reservations.

"I can't wear a bra with this, Mickie," I said.

"No, you're meant to go braless, and that's OK," she replied.

"But my nipples are so sensitive," I said.

"I have a solution for you," Mickie said, handing me a small box. The box contained 6 silicone discs whose color matched my skin tone fairly closely. "Wear those over your nipples and they won't get irritated. Also they won't poke through the fabric too obviously. That's why people usually wear them."

Then I said, "Mickie, my cage is really noticeable."

She had an answer for that as well. "Then I guess it's a good thing you're not going to wear your cage," she said. I was confused. She rummaged through her stuff until she found a rectangular piece of soft black fabric with two loops of elastic string attached. She explained that I would be tucking my penis and scrotum between my legs, and this thing--which she called a "gaff"--would hold them tightly in place to prevent any unwanted bulges from distorting the front of my pants. I was kind of shocked that Mickie was proposing to take me out in public and not have me in chastity. It showed more flexibility on her part--and more confidence in me--than I had expected.

The final pieces of the ensemble were a new pair of strappy black sandals and a black leather choker. The sandals looked great with the jeans and top, and felt really comfortable. Dancing would not be a problem in this get-up. And the choker, which really seemed to be a fancy dog collar, looked so sexy. Mickie joked about putting me on a leash. I was getting really excited about our outing.

Mickie told me to change into something comfortable while we ate a light meal. She reminded me to be careful about drinking too much now that my body mass had decreased. Also, I was out of practice, since she mostly forbade me to drink because of the empty calories. Once we were finished and I had cleaned up the kitchen, we worked on my make-up situation. The club was going to be on the dark side, but it was still worth putting some extra effort in. She gave me a chance to do a first pass, then stepped in and adjusted or redid certain things. In particular, my eyeliner technique was shaky, and that had to be done over entirely. Mickie chose a bright red lipstick for me, and I loved the way it looked. I was becoming quite infatuated with my own appearance since getting the extensions. She also quickly did my fingernails and toenails, with a nice red color.

Once the make-up was done, Mickie told me to go to the bathroom and try to empty my bladder as much as possible. She warned me that it would be difficult to urinate once I was fully tucked. I did my best, and resolved to have no more than one drink in the club, to reduce the chances that I would need to go while I was there. Mickie then had me take off my panties and slid the loops of the gaff over my feet. After she had pulled it up to mid-thigh, she unlocked my chastity cage and left it by the bathroom sink. She sat down on the toilet and ordered me to stand next to her. In the old days, I would have had an instant hard-on standing with my crotch so close to her face, but it was different times--I stayed soft.

Mickie cut several longish pieces of medical tape and stuck them to the side of the basin. Then the took my scrotum in her left hand and pulled it to the back a bit. With her right index finger, she found one of my balls and gently pushed on it until it settled into its inguinal canal, then did the same with the other. This went easily, given their shrinkage after months of hormones. Once they were lodged in those openings, she pulled the skin of the now empty scrotum more tightly to the back and secured it with a piece of tape. This was mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

Now came my penis...my clit. Mickie had taped my scrotum a bit to one side of my perineum, and she pulled back my penis on the other side, using two pieces of tape to hold it there. She sat back and looked for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. Finally she pulled the gaff up the rest of the way, putting the two loops over the tops of my hips. She told me to take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I was shocked--it looked as if there was nothing between my legs, other than a very slight swelling where my taint was.

Next she handed me a pair of very low-cut black bikini style panties, along with my butt plug and the lube. I quickly inserted the plug and eagerly slid on the beautiful undies. It was an amazing sight: black panties, white skin, and no discernable bulges; and only Mickie and I knew about the pink jeweled heart that was nestled between my buttocks. The loops of the gaff were barely apparent, but not very noticeable. Now came the skinny jeans, and when I pulled them up Mickie suggested to pull the sides of my panties up so they stuck out above the low-rise top of the jeans. It was sexy and suggestive, without being too much. Finally I secured the nipple protectors on my breasts and then donned the halter neck top and the collar. My nipples felt fine with no fabric brushing them, and Mickie had been correct about the fact that these discs made them less prominent through the material of the top. I brushed out my hair with a side part while looking at myself, marveling at my hotness. I had worried about being recognized while I was out with Mickie, but it now seemed almost impossible--this was a totally different person in the mirror.

Mickie had gotten ready while I was finishing up, and as usual she looked fantastic. She had decided to wear her own skinny jeans, and matched them with a bright green scoop neck crop top that bared her toned abs. She had put her hair in an elaborate bun on the back of her head, and was wearing a beautiful pearl necklace and a spiral, snake-shaped gold arm cuff on her left bicep. She showed me some useful moves that girls liked to make on the dance floor as we watched ourselves in the bedroom mirror, including putting my hands together over my head or running my hands through my hair while moving my hips to a beat. I liked that a lot--both how it looked and the pleasant sensations coming from my rectum as the butt plug shifted with my undulating hips. She also warned me against too much foot work, overly big movements with my arms, or anything goofy like something from a novelty dance. Finally, she advised me to add a little bit of vocal fry to my speaking voice at strategic moments, as this was a very common mannerism of young white women my age. I practiced for the next 5 minutes, but was not sure I would have the presence of mind to pull it off in the club.

We got in the car and Mickie drove downtown to the club. I had never been there, or even known that it existed. It interested me that she was familiar with it. There were lots of things about her that I still did not really know, even though we had been married for a few years.

As we got out, I suddenly realized that the club would probably card us, and all I had was my "Lawrence" ID, which I had stuck in my jeans pocket with some cash. In a panic, I stopped Mickie and told her we had a problem. She listened sympathetically, then told me not to worry. She said that she had already spoken with the management about my situation, and they would not give me a hard time. I was far from the first person in gender transition to walk through their door. That relieved me, but also made me uncomfortable that Mickie was discussing me with strangers. Sooner or later, I would probably be forced to go public as the situation became known. The only reason I was not more upset was that I knew it was getting harder to hide my changes, and would have to own up to the new me sometime soon.

As Mickie had predicted, there was no problem getting past the guy at the door. She whispered in his ear, and he barely glanced at my ID. He did check me out, though, and I sensed that he liked what he saw.

Inside, there was a pulsing dance beat that I could feel all through my body. The place was only moderately crowded, but it was still early. The big room was dark, except at the bar and on the opposite side where the DJ plied his trade. Mickie led us to an unoccupied table, and I sat while she went and got us cocktails. The female-male ratio seemed to be about 20:1. There were maybe 10 or 15 people on the dance floor, and as far as I could tell they were all women. However, this club seemed to attract a range of clientele, including some fairly butch looking women with short hair and masculine attire. As I looked around, I got the impression that the club was looking back at me. I could tell that Mickie was also getting sized up pretty overtly, and that was no surprise given her attractiveness.

Mickie came back with two cocktails, a negroni and an Aperol spritz. She asked which one I wanted, and I said we should share both of them. I was not super experienced with cocktails, but I was attracted to the bright reddish orange of both of these. I started with the Aperol spritz and Mickie sipped the negroni, then we swapped. Both were good, in different ways. I appreciated the bitterness of both the Campari and the Aperol. They made the drinks more interesting, and forced me to drink them slowly.

Soon enough, Mickie led me out onto the dance floor, and we started dancing. Since the floor was filled with women, there was much less attention paid to couples, and groups would dance together. After a short while we were surrounded by a number of other women, some of whom seemed as if they might be together, and others of whom were trying to catch Mickie's eye or mine as they danced facing us. It was fun to be part of a big group like this.

As the song wound down, the DJ merged in George Michael's Freedom! '90, one of my favorite old-time songs. I redoubled my attention on dancing with Mickie, trying to watch what she was doing and mimic it. As the chorus started, I mouthed the words to her, and they took on extra meaning: "I think there's something you should know, I think it's time I told you so, there's something deep inside of me, there's someone else I've got to be." Then, "All we've got to do now, is take these lies and make them true somehow." This felt so absolutely appropriate for my current situation. Then when George said, "Sometimes the clothes do not make the man," Mickie sang along while looking at me. I felt so much emotional resonance that I was practically crying.

As George Michael wound down, another song that I didn't know started up. Ordinarily I would have wanted to return to our table, but I was having a blast on the dance floor, and didn't want to go anywhere. I continued dancing with Mickie as part of a larger mob, letting the music and the pulsing beat wash over me, and enjoying the sensation of the shifting butt plug. The dance floor had filled up a bit as more people arrived at the club. I felt really high, and this was not an accident. Only later did Mickie disclose that she had put half of a tab of Molly in each of the cocktails. Thus, it didn't matter which one I picked, I was going to get a rush. And as someone with zero experience with club drugs, half of a tablet was more than enough for me to become totally transfixed by dancing in the group. I noticed that various members of the throng were copying what Mickie and I were doing, so I started trying to innovate to see if it would get picked up by the others, and it did. I also watched the dancers around me, focusing on the ones who I thought were most compelling, and tried to copy what they were doing. It was this amazing group dynamic.

Suddenly, one of my very favorite songs came up, "Spotlight" by Jesse Ware. Mickie knew I loved this song, and she stepped over to me and pulled me close to slow dance the intro. It felt so wonderful to have her arm against my bare back, and her firm breasts pressing against my own sensitive little boobs. As the disco beat started up, I saw a spotlight on the dancefloor, and it moved around before settling on Mickie and me, who had separated and were dancing facing each other. For the rest of the song, we were lit up, and that caused us both to try to elevate the level of our dancing. (I learned later that this club had a tradition of playing this song at some point every evening and choosing a couple to feature with the spotlight.) Even though it was my first time dancing as a girl, I was not intimidated! This was the Molly, I guess. Mostly, I was watching Mickie closely, and experiencing a feeling of intense closeness with this beautiful woman to whom I happened to be married.

As the song wound down, Mickie embraced me and kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed back enthusiastically, and the women around us were all clapping and whooping. As the next song started up, I realized that I was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, and took Mickie's hand to guide her back to our table. I realized that I was drenched in sweat, and I worried about my beautiful top. Mickie got us some waters and told me to rehydrate myself. I realized that I was intensely thirsty, and quickly drained my glass.

I gazed at Mickie, and realized just how much I still loved her, and how attracted I was. However, there was no desire to have regular intercourse with her. Even though I was not caged, I felt no stirring in my clit. What I wanted was to orally pleasure her, or perhaps penetrate her with her dildo...OUR dildo. And maybe be penetrated by her in return. At that moment I really did feel as if a lesbian club was the right venue for us.

After we caught our breath and replenished our fluids, we went back out to dance a while longer, and then Mickie told me it was time to go home. I realized then that it was well after midnight. Even though I was having a blast, I really wanted to be home with her, and make love to her in whatever way she desired. I was so excited about that prospect that I was almost vibrating with anticipation. She took me by the hand and led me out of the club. Many of our fellow dancers waved or called out to us--what a fun time this had been. I wondered if they suspected what we would be doing soon.

When we got home, we did all the things I had imagined, but first I badly needed to pee. Mickie helped me partially release my tucked clit so that I could pee into the toilet without making a mess, then retucked. She had me continue to wear my panties and collar, but otherwise strip down. I buried my face in her fragrant snatch and pleasured her for a long time, bringing her to ecstasy. Then I put on the strap-on and fucked her silly, moving easily from one position to another. Once she had got off a second time, she took off the strap-on and told me to take out my butt plug and douche. I was so excited that my fingers were barely working as I tried to get ready in the bathroom.

Because she had not told me one way or another, I had left my clit tucked and my panties on, and Mickie obviously approved of that decision. She put me on my hands and knees and pushed aside my panties to lube up my asshole. Then she started pushing in the dildo, and I realized she was going to give me the big one tonight. I was excited but scared. I knew I had been able to accommodate it before during our phone sex, but it has still been a big challenge. Nevertheless, this time it slid in without too much trouble, and soon she was pounding away at me. It was very different to have the longer, girthier shaft going in and out of my ass. The end of my tucked clit was relatively close to the sliding shaft, and receiving lots of indirect stimulation, as was my asshole and prostate. Good feelings were flowing from multiple places, and I felt an orgasm building. Before I could even stop to think about it, my pleasure peaked and I shuddered and cried out loudly as I clenched down on the big dildo. I released cum, and it collected in the gaff and my panties rather than dripping on the floor.

When we were finished, I cleaned myself up, first licking and then rinsing out my underwear, and we went to bed with Mickie spooning me. She did not insist on recaging me. I slept for 10 hours, and woke up wondering if I had dreamt the whole thing. As I came to I checked for my chastity cage and found it missing, and had to conclude that it was all real. I reflected that I had experienced a truly epochal event that would define who I was going forward.