“Where are you going tonight, Mica?” Mum asked as we sat down to the Indian takeaway that Dad had ordered.
“Oh, the Pint Pot in Bingley, it is Karaoke night; it is usually a blast.”
I picked at my Rogan Josh, seeking the lamb pieces and then a forkful of the pilau rice. I didn’t have any of the pappadums; I have to look after my figure. I may not be the most drop-dead gorgeous of the gang, but I can, and do, scrub up well. Getting fat on takeaway is not part of my plan.
I don’t drink alcohol, and I don’t do drugs, so the only unnecessary calories come in the form of excess food. Mum and Dad do like their takeaway; we have it two or three times a week – Indian, Chinese, fried chicken, pizza – the list just goes on. I try to eat the bare minimum, probably half a portion. I am quite small, well, apart from my DD-sized boobs, but I am an extra small size everywhere else.
“I’ll come and pick you up,” Dad said. “Just text me.”
“No, Dad, no. You and Mum can have an early night and enjoy yourselves without me overhearing every creak. I may be going back to someone’s house, and if not, I’ll get an Uber.”
“Cheeky girl,” Mum said, a smile on her face, “I don’t creak.”
“It’s true, Mum, I don’t want to hear you and Dad; the walls are so thin in this house.” I laughed; she may not creak, but their bed does.
“It’s only natural, girl,” Dad said as he took another mouthful of the vindaloo that he pretends to enjoy. Mum and I both know it is too hot for him; he drinks loads of lassis whilst he is eating and usually goes very red in the face.
“You know, Dad, you would be better off with a Madras; I think that you would enjoy it more, and I for sure don’t want to be anywhere near your arse tomorrow.”
“Mica! Enough,” Mum exclaimed, “it is up to your dad if he wants to torture his insides.”
“Good God,” Dad muttered, “it’s just a fucking curry.”
After tea, up in my room, I decided to go Goth. I had taken a shower before tea and then sat eating dinner in my dressing gown, tightly secured; I didn’t want any bits of me peeping out where they shouldn’t. In my room, I took my gown off and hung it on the hook on my door.
I put on a white foundation; painted my eyeshadow black; wore very dark maroon lipstick, a black blouse, a black skirt and black knickers. I wore my knee-length buckle-up boots. I looked perfect.
I accepted a lift into town from Dad, and he dropped me off at the pub. There were a few people standing outside smoking, urgh! I hate that and vaping more. I rarely go out with anyone who does that; it just stinks. Inside was quite busy, with most of the seats all taken up. I went to the bar, got a bottle of sparkling water, and turned back to see if there was anywhere to park myself.
Someone was singing: You’re The One That I Want, gloriously badly. It was supposed to be a duet, but it was just a guy singing both parts. He had longish dark hair and an open-necked shirt and jeans and was wearing sunglasses. Oh well, we all like to go for a look on a night out. I looked for Giavanna and her roommate, but they were absent. I got a text.
Sorry, M, not feeling it. Fucking monthly
I tutted. “Fuck…” then texted, Soft little thing, get rested.
I was irritated but grabbed a bottle of fizzy water. I then heard my name being called, and looking around, I saw a hand waving. It was Fiona, Jaz’s date at the party last month. I went across and saw that she had a spare chair at the table.
As I moved in to sit down, Fiona bent over and kissed me full on the lips. Wow! I wondered if her dick reacted. Did she get a stiffy?
“You look really hot, Mica…really hot.”
She didn’t look too bad herself. A cropped off-the-shoulder top, pink of course, with the tops of her nice boobs peeking out. She had on tight, white, skimpy shorts, white fishnets, and sexy pink heels. And that kiss was wicked. “You too, Fi…”
I took a sip from my bottle and relaxed. Fiona giggled, jumped up and went across to the DJ running the karaoke. She came back with a laugh across her face.
“What have you done?” I asked with false fear.
“Just requested a song…for us! We’re on next.”
I groaned, but only a fake groan; I didn’t mind; that was the whole point.
She slid in close, a hand on my thigh. She smelt like a garden after rain.
“Are you still seeing Jaz or anyone at the moment?”
She just shook her head. “Nah, I seem to be too different for most people. It’ll be different when I have had my surgery.”
“Oh,” I said, “you’re going the whole way?” I couldn’t hide a twinge of disappointment. She was exotic and sexy as everything.
“Oh, yes, I want rid of the dick; only, of course, I won’t actually be rid of it.” She leaned in as if this part were a secret, her breath on my neck giving chills. “They use it to make the fanny, don’t they?”
My own fanny pulsed, and I crossed my legs to alleviate some pressure. “Right, makes sense, I suppose.”
“I have to wait another ten months, though. Silly rules.”
“I suppose they want to make sure it is what you need. I guess it is not easy to reverse the operation.”
She laughed and I blushed. “No, I suppose not, but I am hardly going to change my mind.” She clinked her beer on my water. “To new possibilities. Cheers!”
“Fiona and Mica, Fiona and Mica,” the DJ called our names. We got up, leaving our jackets at the table so that no one else pinched our seats. We headed up to the stage, and he handed us each a microphone. We turned to face the screen that would show us our lyrics.
‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside‘ was the song she chose. “I’ll be Tom Jones; you be Cerys Matthews,” Fiona said, and then the music started.
We crooned and we held each other around the lower back. She squeezed my hip; I caressed her bum as we sang. I looked longingly into her eyes; she looked lustily into mine.
“The welcome has been so very nice!” I croaked out.
“How lucky that you dropped in,” she answered. Lucky fuck, I hoped.
We even kissed to some gasps. It was all an act to enhance our performance, but really, it had my pleasures surging.
“Baby, it’s cold outside!”
When we finished, the crowd went wild. There was a bit of a cheer from the back, and that was it. I guess it was too early for enthusiastic drunken applause, but I did feel a little let down. I had hoped for a more rapturous response.
“Well,” Fiona laughed, “that didn’t go as well as I thought it might.”
“No, I guess it’s a tough crowd tonight.” We handed back the mic and said “Cheers” to the DJ.
“Let them drink more and we’ll do Fairytale of New York later.”
“Okay, I wonder if they have the sanitised version or the original?” I mused as we sat. No one had nicked our jackets. We ordered fresh drinks because you never leave a drink unattended.
“We’ll find out later. You know, I wasn’t just acting.”
“Oh?”
“When we sang. The emotions I felt were real.”
“Oh.” Goodness, so, she had a lust for me. Fab! My mind raced and my heart jumped. She was quite the sexy thing. If we did do it, would she want to shag my arse or my fanny? Was she still a boy, or was she more of a girl?
She could tell what I was thinking. She leaned over and sucked my earlobe, then whispered, “As I still have it, I might as well use it.” She kissed me hard and wet, and our tongues danced. “I want to fill you up, Mica, and I want to make you scream.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” I had my hand on her thigh; hers was on my left boob. “I suspect we would need somewhere private, though. Screaming in the alley out back tends to bring attention.”
“At least you didn’t say that you needed alcohol first.”
“God, why would I say that?” I lifted my fizzy water. “I don’t do stims, and I certainly wouldn’t need them for a shag.”
“Well, you know, I have boobs and a dick.”
“I am well aware.”
“And that’s…okay?” I could tell she was prepared for me to run off. Poor thing, to be so misunderstood. But not by me.
“Fuck yes, let’s go someplace quieter.”
“Mine is just up the lane, on Harrington.”
It wasn’t far; we could hoof it. “Perfect.” We got up and grabbed our jackets. A couple of rude punters were leering at us from the bar and gesturing at Fiona, making dick motions. “Better than any little tea biscuit you lot have to offer!” I sent the bird flying over, and they all laughed. Fiona was shocked. I think she was happy I was standing up for her.
We made it out, and she slammed me against the brick wall, her hands on my jacket collar, her lips grinding into mine. I pulled her to me and got the answer to the earlier question. She was as hard as Blackpool rock, and I was all for it.
We nearly ran the whole way, holding hands and giggling. At the estate, we ran up the stairs. As she fumbled with her key, I was savagely eating her neck and squeezing her left breast.
“Fuck me!” She was moaning as the door finally gave way.
“I intend to!” I said as I pushed the door closed with my foot. We were like a naughty cartoon on that adult streaming site that Dad doesn’t know that I know he likes. Our clothes were flying off, with some stretches and button pops amidst the kissing and groping.
Finally, we were both naked; I bet I looked a sight with my goth makeup smeared over my face from her kisses. Her dick stood straight ahead, bobbing up and down in anticipation. I sank to my knees and held her balls in my right hand, pulling her closer to my mouth.
I opened my lips, I paused, I looked up, and then I plunged. God, it went straight in, over my tongue and passed my tonsils. I sucked, as best as my tortured throat allowed, and then I eased backwards, her dick sliding over my tongue. Fiona was gasping, her fingers were clutching at my shoulders, and her balls were heavy in my hand.
I began to shag her dick with my mouth, rocking back and forth. I wanted to get her to the edge, but not over it. I wanted her to finish in my fanny, not my mouth, but I wanted to get her close, oh, so close. I began to move much more quickly, her dick just a blur as I bobbed back and forth.
I could feel twitches in her balls; I hoped that she wasn’t too close, and then she gripped my head and pulled it back and then up. My eyes fixed on hers, our breasts pressed against each other, nipples touching nipples.
“Bed, now,” she said, turning and heading up the stairs. As I followed, I could see her buttocks moving over each other and her balls jiggling as they hung from her crotch. At least they were there now; perhaps in twelve months I would be watching the lips of her new fanny.
In her bedroom, she grabbed her quilt and flung it from the bed, turned around, grabbed me, and pushed. I forget that she was born a man and has the strength in her muscles that a life with testosterone gives. I fell back on the bed, my legs akimbo, and my shoulders pressing down.
Fiona was at my side in an instant, and then her mouth was on my fanny. She sucked at my nubbin, pulling it into her mouth, and then her teeth nipped as her fingers explored my entrance. As the pleasures flowed, I could just about feel the circles that she drew around my hole, dipping in through my opening.
“Oh, fucking Jesus,” I gasped as Fiona managed a tweak of my nubbin as a fingernail found my G-spot. I almost exploded; my buttocks clenched, my knees gave out, my calves fell to the mattress, and my arms flopped out to either side. I was a piece of jelly.
“God, I have wanted you for so long,” Fiona gasped. “I hated that you weren’t with me.”
“I’m not really with anyone,” I gasped, and it was true; I didn’t have a dedicated shag buddy. I lost the plot of the conversation at that point; she had fingers inside me. It seemed they were cutting out a dress pattern, and the suction pump that was her mouth was doing more than a number on my nubbin.
I stopped trying to listen to her words; they were just noise. Pleasures were streaming through me the way water goes over Victoria Falls, relentlessly, unceasingly. I think my heels were pressing into the mattress; I wasn’t sure. In fact, I wasn’t sure of anything.
“I want you,” I heard her say, and she pulled away from my crotch, her lips now smearing over my mouth, her dick prodding my stomach. I couldn’t answer; my whole body felt like jelly, and then it wasn’t. I was stiff like a board – her dick was inside me.
God knows what I had expected; I mean, she is a guy, is a girl, has boobs, and has a dick. Her touches are feminine; she can get such a tune out of my fanny, more than any guy I have ever been with, but now, despite boobs looming over mine, she is a girl with a dick that is deep inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasped as her balls crashed onto my thighs as her dick pressed deep inside me. My fanny walls were stretched apart; her belly pressed against my mons, spreading my fanny apart. Her eyes fixed on mine, I couldn’t tear mine away. My mouth was open, but no further sounds came out. Then she withdrew.
I felt a void; it was as if my fanny had been replaced with a road tunnel. I was gasping, both with pleasure and the sudden loss. It was different; I don’t know why. I mean, she was a he; he had boobs, and she had a dick. It was all very odd. I wasn’t conflicted in any way; it was just, well, different.
I flipped around and grabbed his balls and squeezed, just a little, but more than enough. I wrapped my lips around her dick and then swallowed. I had a throat full of dick. It tasted like fanny, but then, I guessed that is exactly what it should taste like, considering where it had been. Yummy.
I felt a fingernail on my perineum, and then it dipped into my fanny and then moved back and pushed. I gasped, which is difficult when you have a mouthful of meat, and then I gulped. She pushed fingers into my arse. Now that was odd. Would she want to shag me there? I wondered. How would it feel? I mean, I have been shagged in the arse many times, especially when I am on my monthlies, but never by a girl with a dick. Would it feel different, just like it had in my fanny?
I had been absentmindedly shagging her dick with my mouth, my tongue working her shaft, and Fiona began to get a little urgent; she was humping. I squeezed her balls just a little, just to get her attention, but she ignored me, and with a thrust she spurted down my throat.
That felt the same; just like any dick in my throat, it brought me back to the present, to the now, to reality. As I eased her dick out of my throat, I sucked; I sucked hard, pulling every last drop of cum from her dick. When I finally let her leave my mouth, I bounced up on the bed and plastered my spunk-covered lips on hers.
“God, this can’t be the only time,” she sighed, her hands squeezing my shoulders.
“We’ve still got FairyTale of New York to do,” I said.
“That means getting dressed.”
