Mickie and Laurie Pt. 17

That night I told Mickie about the discussion I had with Dr. Harris. She agreed that things were still far from settled, but also that there was reason to be hopeful. Right now, all we could do was wait. She did her best to distract me with sex, and also took me for another night of dancing. This time I managed to squeeze into the smaller pair of jeans. It was so tight! I was worried about ripping a seam, but nothing bad happened. We paired the jeans with yet another new top that she had picked out for me. This one was sleeveless, black, snug fitting, and left about four inches of my midriff exposed. It was my first crop top, and I was pretty self-conscious about wearing it, but Mickie kept bringing me to our full-length mirror and turning me in various directions to show me how great I looked. She was right--my regular planking and continuing calorie restriction had led to a nicely toned set of abs that stood out due to my reduced body fat. I wore the leather collar again and my sandals, but added some really cute dangly onyx earrings, and left my hair loose.

This time we showed up a little bit later, and couldn't get a table. We stayed by the bar with our drinks, and Mickie didn't bother sneaking the Molly into them. She broke a pill in half and gave one piece to me before popping the other in her mouth and washing it down with her whisky sour. I did the same. Soon enough we headed out to the floor and danced for hours. With the movement and all the warm bodies nearby, I got nice and sweaty, but I didn't mind. The Molly had me in total dance mode, and I was really getting into the tracks this DJ was playing. If Mickie hadn't finally pulled me off the floor to drink some water, I probably would have kept going all night.

I made some friends at the club. Many were lesbians, but some were cis girls who just wanted to dance without having to fend off guys all night. I even ran into another trans girl, Lana. She was younger than me, but further along in her transition process. She had clocked me as soon as she saw me, and I later learned that other trans women usually can easily spot a fellow traveler even if she is able pass with cis people. I think that we have to work so hard on adopting female mannerisms and body language while suppressing any residual male affect that this effort and self-awareness becomes a subtle but recognizable signature that other people going through the same thing will always notice.

Lana was very pretty. She was petite--maybe five-five and barely more than a hundred pounds. Her breasts were small, but further developed than mine. She had dark, curly hair and brown eyes, and was wearing a really cute red minidress. I was jealous, because I did not think I would ever be able to pull off something like that. We chatted for a few minutes when I was off the dance floor, and I really liked getting a bit of her viewpoint on the trans experience. The fact that I found her sexy and attractive was also a definite factor. But she had seen that I was with Mickie, and she did not make any sort of effort to flirt. Instead, she told me how beautiful my date was. I blurted out that "my date" was actually my wife, and she immediately put out her hand for a high five. "Score!" she said as I slapped my hand against hers, then we laughed.

Mickie had seen this interaction from across the room, and asked me about it later on the way home. When I told her I was being congratulated for the fact that she and I were married, she laughed and squeezed my thigh. I realized that I probably did not tell her often enough just how amazing and hot she was, and resolved to be more proactive. That night she fucked me senseless, and I actually had two orgasms. I made so much noise when I was cumming that Mickie had to tell me to quiet down so we didn't upset the neighbors. I was embarrassed when I thought about this the next morning, but I blamed the Molly.

*

About ten days after my appointment with Dr. Harris, I got another call from the clinic. They wanted to schedule an appointment with both Dr. Shapiro and Dr. Harris, and they were hoping that Mickie could also join. I got some possible dates and worked with Mickie to find one that would work, and we scheduled the meeting. We talked obsessively in the next few days, making sure we had our story locked down, and trying to psych each other up so that we went in with confidence.

When the day came, we used Uber to get there. Mickie had opted for a more conservative look than usual. This consisted of a beautiful navy blue textured dress with short sleeves. It had a scoop neck and came down almost to her knees, but it was wonderfully tailored to show off her fabulous shape. Her legs were bare, and she had picked out some eye-catching strappy blue leather sandals. She also wore a stunning pearl necklace that had been a family heirloom, and some matching pearl earrings. Her hair was in a fancy up-do. OK, I guess her look wasn't all that conservative after all.

As for me, I decided to go with the outfit I had worn to Candy's: dark red dress, black top, black knee-high boots, black choker, and my hair in a carefree loose look. We got some looks when we got out of our ride-share car, and I thought we made quite a pair. When we walked into the clinic, we both went up to reception to tell them that we were there for an appointment with Drs. Harris and Shapiro. The woman at the desk swept her eyes back and forth between us several times before realizing that she was being weird, and looked down at her schedule. Then she asked us to sit down and wait to be called.

My usual nurse called for "Laurie and Mickie?" and greeted me with a smile when I stood up. When she took in the knock-out woman who got up with me, she stared slack-jawed for a moment, then came out of it and held the door for us. This time they did not take my vitals, and Dr. Shapiro's office door was open. We were directed to go on in, and found both Dr. Shapiro and Dr. Harris sitting, him behind his desk and her in a chair across from him. The only remaining seating was the couch, and we sat down together, close enough that our butts were lightly touching.

I introduced Mickie to both of them, and they warmly greeted her. I watched their faces, and it was clear that they were somewhat floored by her attractiveness. Then Dr. Shapiro began the discussion, saying that a male-to-female transition was a very serious undertaking, and it was critical to make sure not only that the candidate was mentally prepared and truly in need of it, but also that there was a solid support system in place for them during a difficult time. Mickie was ready for this and spoke up without any prompting.

"I just want you to know that I am 100% behind Laurie for this journey," she said. "We love each other very much, and what gender she is doesn't have any impact on that."

"Mickie, have you been involved in a same-sex relationship previously?" asked Dr. Shapiro.

"Yes, I have, she replied. "I guess I would describe myself as pansexual. But Laurie is my lodestar. I can't imagine life without her. I loved her unconditionally as a man, and I love her equally as much as a woman" Both doctors were nodding as she said this. I thought she was knocking it out of the park. Then she added, "We have a very vigorous sex life, by the way."

"Yes, thank you Mickie," said Dr. Shapiro. "We have no reason to doubt that. But you do need to know that these kinds of major changes can put terrific pressures on a marriage, and it's important to go into with your eyes open."

"I do understand that Dr. Shapiro," said Mickie. "And we're both counting on you and your colleagues to help us navigate all these challenges. We're ready to listen to whatever advice you can give us."

"Please, call me Daniel," said Dr. Shapiro. "Hmmpf," I thought. He had not asked me to call him by his first name. Classic Mickie. In no time at all she could have nearly anyone in her camp.

Now Dr. Harris spoke up. "Tell me, Mickie," she asked, "How involved have you been in Laurie's previous hormone treatment?"

This question actually seemed to catch Mickie by surprise, and she took a moment to reply.

"Well, the actual treatment choices were Laurie's," she said. "But we discussed it beforehand, and I reviewed her plan. Also, to be honest, I agreed to do her estrogen injections, because she was a little bit squeamish."

"I see," Dr. Harris said. "So you were fully on board with this self-medication idea?"

"Well...yes," said Mickie. "I mean, after talking it through, I think we both decided that we had been way too impetuous trying to manage her treatment without any medical oversight. And when Laurie told me about her conversation with you, I realized that we really dodged a bullet."

"Yes you did," said Dr. Harris. "The question we're trying to answer now is whether it's safe for Laurie to go back on estrogen."

I finally spoke up. "Dr. Harris, I hope that you aren't ignoring the fact that I didn't have any problems when I was treating myself. With that precedent, I think you should have a lot of confidence that it's safe for me to go back onto HRT."

"You're not wrong, Laurie," she said. "But bear in mind that we would be having a very different conversation right now if you HAD experienced health problems. And there's no guarantee that you won't have problems in the future, even if everything went smoothly before. That's why we have to monitor you closely. So I have to ask, if we start you again, will you be diligent in getting blood work and check-ups here at the clinic?"

"Yes Dr. Harris, I will one hundred percent do that," I replied.

"And Mickie, will you help Laurie stay on the straight and narrow?" asked Dr. Shapiro?

"I guarantee that I will, Dr...uh...Daniel," she said.

As we had been talking, I had let more of myself come into contact with Mickie, so that we were right up against each other now. And as she had guaranteed that she would keep me in line, she had put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed me to emphasize her point. I loved that woman so much.

After this exchange, the atmosphere seemed to lighten, and the conversation turned to other topics, such as our living situation, where we worked, what we did for fun, and similar things. We were pretty good about both speaking up, and augmenting the other's answers. Kind of like you would expect from a happily married couple. Eventually, the topic of clothes came up, and both Dr. Harris and Dr. Shapiro complimented Mickie on her outfit. She clearly enjoyed that, but then asked them what they thought of my outfit. They quickly praised me as well, but I knew full well that it was more out of obligation that true sentiment.

"You two are not that different in size," said Dr. Shapiro. "Do you ever...?"

"Yes we do!" said Mickie. "But it's pretty one-sided, because I have a much more extensive wardrobe than Laurie."

"You should see Mickie's closet," I said. Then I amended, "Closets." Everyone chuckled.

Soon the meeting was winding down, and as we all stood up Dr. Shapiro said, "I'm really glad to have met you, Mickie, and I'm very impressed with the relationship you two have."

"Thank you, Daniel," she said, holding out her hand for her to shake.

We wrapped things up and Mickie and I returned to the reception area. I checked to make sure there was nothing else required of us, then we left to catch a ride home. In the car, Mickie punched me in the shoulder. It wasn't that hard, but it caught me by surprise.

"Oww, what's that for?" I asked.

"You didn't tell me Daniel was so handsome," she said. "Were you trying to keep him for yourself?" She paused and then added, "You little slut."

"OK, first of all, to me he was 'Dr. Shapiro,' not 'Daniel,'" I said. "That's a you thing. And second, I'm not particularly attracted to him, even though I admit he's kind of cute."

"Oh sure, Laurie," Mickie replied. "You think I can't tell you're sweet on him?" I didn't dignify that with an answer, and our conversation turned to other things. Mickie did get in one more jab, noting that Dr. Harris was also pretty cute, and maybe we could arrange a foursome. I rolled my eyes and said nothing.

*

The appointment at the clinic had been in the morning, and after we got home I put on my work outfit and went in. I was in a very upbeat mood all afternoon because I was pretty sure Mickie and I had closed the deal. Now we just had to wait for confirmation. I hoped it wouldn't take too long, because I was more and more feeling the absence of estrogen in my life.

When I got home, Mickie was waiting for me, and she told me she wanted to take me out to dinner to celebrate. Of course, that meant once again putting on my femme look, and I spent some time picking out a nice ensemble. Mickie drove us to my favorite Italian restaurant, and for once I threw caution to the wind and ordered a big pasta dish. As I savored it, I promised myself that I would redouble my dieting starting the next day.

When we got back home, Mickie had another surprise for me. She told me to get undressed and meet her in the bathroom. As I stripped down and put my clothes away, I heard her clattering around in the kitchen, and stirring something in a bowl. She ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of conditioner and took it back in the kitchen, where I heard her running the microwave. What was she up to?

I went into the bathroom, still wearing my panties but otherwise naked. Mickie came in with a bowl containing a bright pink paste. She fished an old towel out of the cupboard and put it around my shoulders. She pinned my hair up and took some Vaseline and ran it along my hairline.

"Mickie, what's going on?" I asked.

"To help celebrate our appointment, I'm going to give you pink hair," she replied.

"Mickie, no!" I cried. "I love the color of my hair!"

"Don't worry, silly," she replied. "This is a Kool Aid dye job--Tropical Punch. It'll wash out in a week or two. And in the meantime you can be the tranny slut you always wanted to be."

That made me mad. "I'm not a slut, Mickie," I said.

She continued teasing me. "Maybe 'Dr. Shapiro' will see your new look and try to jump your bones."

"Mickie...that's not funny," I said.

"I'm sorry, Laurie," she replied, with a distinct lack of sincerity. "But seriously, this is not like a regular dye job. It's very temporary, and if you hate it you can just wash your hair several times and it will fade."

Eventually I acquiesced. I didn't want to seem like a killjoy, even though this seemed like nothing I would ever want to do.

Wearing latex gloves, Mickie took a small brush and started putting the paste in my hair, starting at the roots and working her way down to the ends. It took her a while, and she was careful to avoid spilling any of it. She warned me that this dye would temporarily stain skin, so we had to watch out.

Once she had done all my hair, she took some plastic wrap and covered my head, securing it with clips. Then she set her phone timer for 30 minutes. Turning to me, she said, "All right, off with the panties."

That caught me by surprise. "But why, Mickie?" I asked.

"That's simple," she replied. "The carpet has to match the drapes." It took me a moment to realize that she intended to dye my public hair.

"Oh no, Mickie, we're not doing my pubes," I said.

"Of course we are," Mickie said. "It'll look so cute."

After some cajoling, she got me to agree to it. I slid off my panties and gaff, but left my clit and scrotum taped back. Mickie applied Vaseline all around my patch to avoid any staining, then used the brush and the remaining pink paste to coat it. She put plastic over my abdomen and used a bit of tape to hold it in place.

When the timer went off, she took the plastic wrap off my head and told me to get in the shower and rinse my hair with the wand using cool water. I did, and saw a pink deluge come down and run into the drain. She told me to keep rinsing until the water ran clear. It took a good five minutes for this to happen. When I told her it was done, she came over and took the plastic off my belly and told me to do the same there. It took less time to rinse out the dye, since there was relatively less hair. When it was running clear, I stopped and looked at my wet pubes. They were bright pink! Was the hair on my head the same? I lightly toweled myself and went to the mirror. Yes, it was also bright pink. I wasn't sure what to think of this.

Mickie was sure. She said, "You are ADORABLE!" Then she brushed my hair to get rid of the snarls and used her blow-dryer, standing next to me as we both looked in the mirror. By the time she was done, I was convinced that this might have been a good idea. I looked like everybody's idea of a fun party girl with my pink tresses. I looked down again at my now dry pubic hair, and marveled at the pink foliage there. It really stood out against my pale skin.

"Boy do you look fuckable," said Mickie. And to prove it, she broke out the strap-on and worked me over with the big dildo. After I had enjoyed a huge, shuddering orgasm, I licked her pussy for a long time, and brought her to two big climaxes of her own. When we were done, I went back in the bathroom while Mickie went to sleep and looked at my naked body. I had to admit that with the pink hair--top and bottom--and my tucked junk, I kind of looked like hot girl.