Smooth Sailing

by Melody Sims

Part One

I.

"I want you to wear the outfit that I have laid out, and there will be no more discussion. Do I make myself clear?" said my wife while emphasizing her position by tapping her index finger against my smooth chest. "Or shall I find something a little shorter for you to wear on the plane?"

I stood there, wearing a soft pink bra and thong set. I had just finished applying a liberal amount of baby oil to my smooth legs, which gave them a sexy shimmer. My nails were painted in the same shade of pink as my bra and panties. I was also wearing a light dusting of Evening Rose eye shadow, brown eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. I was throwing a fit about the white hip hugger, bell-bottom slacks, the pink, French cuff, button-down top and white chunky-heeled sandals that she wanted me to wear for the flight. We were on our way to the airport to fly to Miami, Florida, where we were meeting the cruise ship, for a five-day cruise through the Caribbean.

"Mistress, you said that I could wear something a little more…you know...less…girly…for the flight." I said in desperation.

She spun around on her left toe, stomped to the closet and withdrew a short, lavender sundress and matching strappy heels.

"You have upset me, Monica. We have been planning this trip for some time, and now, all of a sudden, you want to go back to wearing boy clothes? I think not, little missy! As a matter of fact, I think that you should wear this with the white garter belt that you picked up last week at Dillard's. We have to be at the airport in two hours, and it's a forty-minute drive. What's it going to be?" She gave me that icy glare that runs right down to my soul; the one that she gives me when I've really made her angry.

I lowered my head as my resistance faded, and figured that I'd better cut my losses.

"Mistress, can I please wear the cute slacks and top?" I asked as sweetly as I could; knowing that if I pushed any more, she'd parade me through the airport in that dress. Her face relaxed and an evil smile crept across her lips.

"Are you sure that don't want to wear your cute dress? I know how you love it when it rides up in the car, exposing your cute stocking tops." She said; her words dripping in sarcasm. She knew that she had me over a barrel.

"Yes Mistress. I'm sure."

"Good. Now because of your little tantrum, and because we are running late; I don't have time to put you over my knee. Therefore, while I finish packing, I want you to change into your cherry-red bra and thong and finish getting dressed. I know that it will show though that outfit, but that's what you get when you defy me, and I will not tolerate such insolence." She replied with finality.

"Yes Mistress." I said as lowered my gaze and reached back to unhook my bra.

II.

I couldn't stop looking at the pronounced cleavage that the red pushup bra gave me, as Gina drove us though the Thursday afternoon traffic.

"Don't worry, sugar, it's not that noticeable." She said with a giggle.

Then why did she give a wolf whistle while I was bent over putting our bags in the trunk of the car? Why didn't I just put on the pants? At least they were pants, right? She had just turned off the ignition of her light green Volkswagen Passat, when the airport shuttle bus pulled up to the stop.

"Let's hurry, honey, and try to catch that shuttle." I was still sulking in the passenger seat. "Now don't be this way. Do you want me to give you a spanking right here in the parking lot? All you had to do was put on the outfit without a fuss, and none of this would have happened."

"I know, Mistress. I'm sorry for being such a brat. It's just that sometimes I feel like I should…"

"Put up some sort of fight, to show that you are still a man, honey?" She added and placed her delicate hand on mine. "But you don't want to be a man, do you? If you did, then why do you do the things that I tell you to do? Why don't you put up a fight when I tell you to wear cute dresses and high heels at home, even when Mother comes to visit? Honey, look at me. You said that you wanted to be everything to me, and that meant that you had to give up all of these masculine feelings and become my little sissy hubette. That's what I wanted, and you openly agreed, didn't you? I also explained that it would not be solely within the confines of our home. I know that you belong to me, and your behavior, mannerisms and appearance are a direct reflection of that ownership. You have to know by now, that I enjoy humiliating you in public. It's nothing against you, I don't hold some deep-seeded hatred toward the male of the species; I love men, almost as much as I love you. I like being the boss in this relationship and watching you submit to my every whim, despite the humiliation it causes you. Now, I would never intentionally put you in a position that might cause you harm. You are the love of my life. You are also my life-size Barbie, whom I enjoy playing with on a regular basis. You said that you would be that for me, so here we are: at the airport, getting ready to go on a wonderful cruise, for five days. I expect you to dress in what I have chosen, I expect you to act like the proper sissy as I have taught you, and I expect you to follow my directions without question or hesitation. You want to be my sissy hubette, don't you sweetie?" She said while cupping my chin in her hand.

"Yes Mistress." I said as a tear slowly ran down my cheek.

"Good." She said, then drew me to her and kissed me softly on the lips. "Now stop all of this balling or you'll ruin your makeup."

She faced to the front and adjusted the rearview mirror to inspect her own makeup. She was naturally beautiful and didn't need any makeup, but she always told me that girls just feel better about themselves with a little extra color. I checked my own reflection in the mirror in the visor, dabbed my eyes with a tissue, and reapplied my lip gloss. I made sure the lid was tight, returned it to my purse, took a deep breath, smiled and looked over at my wife; who was watching me with a satisfied look on her face.

"Ready, Monica?" I nodded and smiled. "Good. Let's get our bags out of the trunk and go catch that plane." I opened the door, turned in my seat with my knees together and rose out of the car as I had been taught. I smoothed out my top and ran my hands over the back of my cute slacks; knowing that my lingerie was easily seen through the thin material. I shrugged my shoulders in resolution, slung my small, pink purse over my shoulder and turned toward the trunk of the car. Gina had activated the trunk release from inside, and our four bags were stacked neatly inside. We each had a large suitcase on rollers and a matching overnight bag; hers were in hunter green and mine were in powder blue. I remember her saying, when we purchased them; that they would be easy to see in the ocean of black suitcases. They'd be easy to see alright, especially mine.

"Don't forget you sweater, sweetie. You know how cold it gets on those planes." I nodded in acknowledgement and picked up the wispy, pink cardigan from the trunk, and draped it over my arm. She closed the trunk, locked the doors, activated the alarm with the remote control and dropped them into her dark brown leather clutch. We then heard the rumble of the shuttle bus, as it approached us from the rear. I waited for Gina to take the lead, and followed her to the bus. The side doors of the bus were already open, as we made our way around the vehicle. The large black man behind the wheel was turned around in his seat, and watching us board the bus, with a sly smile on his lips.

He tipped his hat and said, "Good afternoon ladies. Can I help you with your luggage?"

Gina replied, "Thank you, but no, we can manage."

I looked up as I lifted the first heavy case onto the bus, and made direct eye contact with the curiously attentive driver. My first inclination was to avert my gaze and hope to be whisked away in a tornado, never to be seen again. Instead, I went into sissy autopilot, smiled sweetly at the large man and daintily stepped up into the bus. We placed our bags in the luggage rack and surveyed the bus for a place to sit. There were three other people on-board, two of which were subtly surveying me. Gina sat down next to the two women, looked at me and patted the seat to her left. I quietly sat down; hoping that the two well-dressed women would not start a conversation with Gina about her adorable husband. The driver turned back around and faced the wheel, but continued to lurk at me from the overhead mirror. I turned away as if I didn't care what he saw, as the bus slowly lurch forward.

"I just love your shoes." said one of the ladies to my right.

I felt my ears begin to burn as I also felt Gina's gaze. She softly patted my left knee that was draped over my right leg and smiled at me. I looked down at my smooth, slender ankle. The silver anklet that Gina got me for Christmas was resting at the top of my foot while the white wedge sandal daintily hung from my prettily painted toes. I took another deep breath, smiled and turned toward the voice. I made eye contact with an attractive woman, who was smiling back at me.

"Thank you. I got them at Famous Barr last spring." I replied sweetly, feeling Gina's gaze on me like a coach watching a performing gymnast. The woman continued to survey my outfit while her smirking cohort looked on in silence. She then turned to Gina who was smiling widely at me. She placed her hand softly on Gina's right forearm.

"I just love what you've done with him. How did you ever get him to…?" She said as if I was not able to hear them talking. Her statement brought the eyes of the young man sitting across from us, over the screen of his laptop, and settled on me.

"Get him to dress like this?" Gina finished her sentence for her. Both women just nodded emphatically. Gina smiled and softly squeezed my knee. "It takes a special kind of man; a man who is not only secure in himself, but also in his relationship. Doesn't he just look adorable?" She then turned back toward me, softly kissed my cheek and turned back toward them.

"Why yes, he does. My husband wouldn't be caught dead in anything but Levi's and a t-shirt." She said with the slightest bit of contempt.

"And he's always yelling at the television over some football game or car race. It's pathetic." Added her friend; in a hushed tone.

"I can guarantee you, that if you took the initiative to softened his outward appearance, you could easily redirect his attention to what's important; you."

You could see the wheels turning in the women's head's as they appraised my outfit and demeanor. Gina was showing me off like a prized pony. I felt embarrassed and humiliated, yet proud that she made my dichotomy look so attractive. I sat up a little straighter in my seat, smiled and looked across at the young man whose wide-eyed gaze had settled on my bra-enhanced cleavage. Once he saw that he was busted, he diverted his gaze back to his screen in embarrassment; which made me smile even wider.

"Terminal A, United and Delta airlines." said the driver, as he slowed the bus to a stop.

"That's us, sweetie pie." She said as she again patted my knee. We rose together and moved toward the luggage rack.

"Thanks for the information." The lady said to Gina, while eyeing my behind. We both turned and smiled at them as we exited the bus.

I turned and waved at the driver as I delicately stepped out, "Thank you, Sir."

"You are most welcome. Have a safe flight." He said smiling, and waved back.

"Are you flirting with the bus driver, Monica?" Gina said in a louder than normal tone, and with a devilish smile.

Once again, I went into sissy auto-pilot, lowered my head and replied, "Oh, no Mistress. I was just being nice." Our exchange got a squeal of approval from the ladies and a wide smile from the men.

Gina smiled confidently back at them, turned to me and playfully smacked me on the behind. "Let's go, princess. We have a plane to catch."

Amid the gazes of several astute travelers around us, Gina got us checked in with the airline. The smiling young lady behind the ticket counter asked us the obligatory questions while eyeing me with a considerable amount of interest. She giggled when she verified our identification cards, as mine had not been updated for some time. I stood there blushing while Gina explained, as she rested her right arm lazily around my waist. I could feel the eyes of the other travelers behind us, as she playfully rubbed my behind. From a distance, one saw a tall, attractive woman pawing another tall, attractively-dressed woman. Once we finished with the ticket agent, we turned to see that all eyes were, in fact, on us. I could see the knowing glance in the eyes of many of the women, and a mixture of amazement and disgust in others. Gripping my overnight bag tightly, I averted my gaze and followed Gina to our gate.

Once out of the main terminal, she said, "We should make a stop in the ladies room to freshen up a bit, sweetie." I was afraid that someone might take offense to a sissified male in the ladies room, even though I fit in more there than I did in the line to the mensroom. "Oh, no one will make a fuss unless you give them a reason." She said dismissively. I followed her into the ladies room, and found a stall next to her.

"I can't wait to see you in your new bathing suit, honey." She said through the stall wall. "All of those aerobics classes and hours on the treadmill will have not been in vain."

"I hope so." I replied in the girlish lisp, that she had taught me to replace my normal tone and voice.

I finished my business and wiped carefully, remembering that white pants have a bad habit of showing wet spots. I pulled up my satin thong, carefully covering my imprisoned genitals. Long ago, Gina had me get a piercing between my smooth sack and puckered anus, in each side of my small scrotum, and another directly under the head of my small "clit". She had the four stainless steel rings locked together, thereby making erections painful and unproductive and giving me the frontal appearance of a mature labia, instead of a manly package. This confining configuration gave me a smooth front, as well as forcing me to sit whenever going to the toilet.

I pulled up the zipper on the left-side of my pants, straightened out the seam of my blouse, fluffed my hair and opened the stall door. Gina stood next to a large woman who was washing her hands. She was looking into the long mirror and deftly applying lipstick to her perfect lips, when she noticed my reflection and gave me a satisfied smile. I walked up to the counter top, withdrew my own tube of lip gloss from my purse and assessed my appearance. My thick, naturally-blonde hair was now streaked in platinum with frosted ends and almost to my chin in uniform length. The back is a little shorter than the front, but I still had enough to make a cute little ponytail on my crown. My ears were adorned with small diamond studs. My eyebrows were thin, feminine arches over my blue eyes; thanks to the electrolysis treatment that also rid me of my beard, sideburns, chest, arm, leg and underarm hair. All that remained was the thick hair on my head, the sleek eyebrows and a heart shaped patch over my "clit". Gina joyfully insists that I color that area too, so that the "carpet matched the drapes". She so enjoys that part of my ongoing training.

"Ready, sweetheart", she said as she kissed me on the cheek, to the surprise of the large woman to her left. I nodded and picked up my purse and overnight bag. One of the drawbacks of traveling enfemme, like this, is that I am reluctant to hold my wife's hand while walking. My appearance is enough to turn heads, and the sight of what looks like two women holding hands, in American society, is more attention than I wanted. Gina, on the other hand, loved it when people checked us out.

We found our gate, checked in at the desk, sat down across from another couple and waited for the call to board. Gina and I turned toward each other, sitting cross-legged, sharing the arm rest between us and gazed into each others eyes lovingly. I was beginning to relax a little. We were holding hands, talking and giggling together quietly, when we heard the woman sitting across from us reprimanding her husband.

"Jerry, stop staring at them. Although you should take note of how easily women can enjoy each others company in such an intimate distance. Most men can't get within three feet of each other without having to punch the other, belch or make some demeaning comment."

I was quietly hoping that Gina would not blow my cover by stating that I was her cute, little sissy hubette. Our eyes met, and I knew that she was reading my mind, when her head tilted slightly, cocked an eyebrow and opened her mouth like she was going to say something. My first instinct was to reach to hold her back, but that would be met with swift punishment; my only other recourse was to occupy her mouth in another way, so I kissed her solidly on the lips. Gina returned my kiss, drawing me to her by gently cradling my head. This not only got his continued attention, but hers too. We withdrew slowly, opened our eyes and saw them looking at us with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Sorry." Gina said to them with an easy smile.

The lady did not reply; just put her nose back in her book. Her husband, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear, "No problems here."

Then, over the intercom came, "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, flight 120, with service to Miami, Florida will now begin boarding first class passengers and Gold Club members."

"That's us, honey", said Gina, patting me on the knee. We rose, collected our bags, gave the couple our best girlish smiles and made our way to the gate. I got another knowing glance from the flight attendant as she looked at my ticket and drivers license. As we made our way down the ramp, Gina exclaimed, "Although it is amusing to see people's response, I'll be glad when your new ID arrives. It gets old after a while; having to explain that the pretty girl in front of them is the same person as the one listed on your license.

At the time, when she decided to "take charge" of our relationship and started my indoctrination, "we" legally changed my name to Monica, she took back her maiden name and I took her last name too. "It only makes sense" she said. The day that she made me go to the license bureau was one of my most memorable. I approached the service desk in a tan flower-print blouse, a knee-length lavender pleated skirt, nude hose and bone pumps; with my birth certificate, old driver's license and the stack of completed forms. The man behind the desk gave me an open smile as I handed him the paperwork. Gina wanted me to go alone, to emphasize that I was not making this decision under duress. It made since to me, even though I was petrified at the prospect. He looked down at the license and looked back up at me. I smiled back nervously, as he searched my eyes for more information. He then looked down at the documentation again, shrugged his shoulders and started keying in the information into his computer. I started breathing again, when he asked me to follow him around the corner to the camera. I took out my compact and lightly dusted my nose with powder, while he stood smiling widely behind the camera.

"Ok, on three." He said from behind the eyepiece. A click, a flash and it was done. Now, according to the state and federal government, my masculinity was gone. "Ok Monica, if you'll just follow me back to the desk, we'll get you finished up." He said politely. I signed the dotted line with my new name, he stamped it with the state seal and handed me the pink copies; how appropriate. "You should get your new license and birth certificate in a couple of weeks. Good luck to you." He said as he offered his thick hand across the counter. He took my hand in his and shook it gently. Still breathing, I smiled and thanked him and made my way out into the world as my wife's sissy.

We found our first class seats, the flight attendant took Gina's order for two gin martinis and we settled in for the flight. We were holding hands as the plane took off. She reached over and kissed me on the neck. "I love you." I turned to her and gave her a heartfelt smile in return. "I love you too, honey." I whispered.

The flight to Miami was uneventful, other than a few compliments from the flight attendants and the occasional double-take from a passerby. Gina and I played Travel Scrabble and took the quiz together from one of the fashion magazines that we brought along. I began to relax a little during the flight, but as we filed out of the plane, I felt like every eye was on me. Gina took my hand in hers as we walked up the exit ramp. I love the feel of her touch. Feeling my apprehension and knowing me better than I know myself, she stopped turned to me, softly kissed my lips and said, "I love you, pumpkin." She locked eyes with me, and gave me her secret smile until I relaxed. We collected our bags at the luggage terminal, hailed a taxi and made our way to the hotel, which was alive with activity. We checked in to the room, hung up our outfits for tomorrow, freshened up a bit, and headed downstairs for a cocktail in the open air bar by the pool.

It's a funny thing about vacations; you plan for them, but so many fret over trying to make them perfect, that they forget to relax. We both have jobs that keep the bills paid; hers as a marketing consultant and mine as a computer programmer, but we have been looking for a less hectic way for some time. She has been toying with the idea of becoming a travel planner and possibly buying a franchise. My work can easily be done over the internet, so I can work from just about anywhere. The software programming market has evolved to the point that I am basically working as a subcontractor for a series of big name companies. Aside from the relaxing, fun and sun, this trip was supposed to provide the time to reflect on our careers thus far, and decide on any changes.

The hotel was in the heart of the club district, and you could feel the electricity in the air as the sun began to settle on the horizon. After a snack and a cocktail, we decided to take a stroll downtown before dinner. As fate would have it, we were just around the corner from several dance and show clubs; including the famous Birdcage. Gina squeezed my hand when she caught sight of the marquee.

"Should we catch the early show?" she asked with obvious excitement.

  

  

  

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