Double Wedding free porn video

Fiction : I was about to marry my c***dhood sweetheart Paula Rother. I loved her and she loved me but it hadn't been straightforward. After school she went to Manchester University while I went to work at a local accountants as a lowly paid junior clerk. She said we where inseparable but during the two years she was away she met Graham. I was heart broken and knew I was beaten. He was incredibly bright, handsome, popular and with wealthy parents. Apparently everything he did was successful and predictably he left university with a 2.1 in law and a certain future. I on the other hand was unskilled, of slight build, quite and shy, an orphan with an unsure future. The only marked difference being that Graham was an arrogant ruthless bastard whilst I was not. Despite his charm and obvious assets it hurt me to think of Paula with him.

After University they came back to our hometown and lived together with her parents with the intention of marrying. Her mother was made up. Now her beautiful daughter had met a man worthy of her affections. I always knew she viewed me as unsuitable. Six months home and they had both secured good jobs in the city at the same prestigious law firm and announced they where to wed. They organised a lavish engagement party and he bought her a beautiful sparkling diamond ring. I was incredibly jealous yet I had a suspicion that Paula was not happy. On the surface they seemed an idyllic couple, loving and caring but underneath I could see cracks forming with the relationship. I knew her well and sensed all was not right.

I took my chance and homed in. She saw me secretly and told me about her mothers ambitious wedding plans, how she hated the idea of a church wedding and that her mother intended to see her wed in her old wedding dress but I didn't care as when we where together it was as if we had never split. She complained about Graham a lot. He apparently (surprise) was rude, arrogant, selfish, scruffy and impolite. None of which I was and she missed it yet I couldn't seem to persuade her to change her mind.

I was still thrilled and then one night when Graham stayed in London on business she slept with me at my tiny flat. It was like old times and she was intensely happy. On the spur of the moment I bent down on one knee and using an old coke can ring pull as a ring, proposed. I laid my heart on the line, confessed my true feelings and told her of my fears with her and Graham. She was stunned into silence and remained speechless for what seemed like minutes. Eventually she spoke and what she said sent shivers down my spine.

'Yes,' she said.
I couldn't believe her at first but she confessed to having doubts with Graham and how I was her first love. She told me of the pressure her mother put her under and she felt railroaded into the relationship.
This was a fabulous development but not everyone was pleased. When Paula broke the news to her mother she was furious. I was back on the scene and she was incredibly disappointed that I'd, so called, ruined her daughters' life. She tried to dissuade me as expected and put Paula off. She called me effeminate, a hopeless man, a born loser unable to father c***dren but I didn't care, Paula was going to be mine. Graham, as you can imagine was equally pissed off I even thought he might hit me but after a few weeks of hurling abuse and a threatening letter he moved out from Paula's and seemed to disappear off the scene or so I thought.

It was a simple matter of simply changing his name to mine on the invites. Paula's Mother was still furious of course. And now I had the problem of the service and the dress. Paula's mum wanted her princess to have a fairytale wedding with all the trimmings but as I knew, Paula didn't. She wasn't the type, she was a tomboy and rarely wore a skirt let alone a dress and she just didn't appreciate the pomp and ceremony of a church wedding. The mere thought of wearing her mothers beautiful wedding dress filled her with horror. Myself, I couldn't see the fuss and one day I walked into her room and saw her mother's famed dress hanging on a tailor's mannequin. To my surprise I took a deep breath, my legs weak and I felt giddy. It was breathtaking but try as I might I couldn't imagine Paula wearing it.

Alone I studied it closer. The dress was snow white and the ornate bodice had little pearls or beads and sequins sewn all over it. It had shoestring straps but looked as if it could be worn off the shoulder and had zips at the back. It was amazing and must have cost a small fortune. In the corner of her room hung a hopped underskirt, train and an underskirt consisting of at least seven layers of tulle. I imagined how they would really puff the dress right out for a true fairytale Cinderella style gown and I chuckled, it was so unlike Paula. I fingered the pretty dress fondly but knew with some disappointment that it would be unlikely to be worn again. It really wasn't Paula's style. I'd never seen her in anything particularly feminine. I day dreamed for a moment and was rudely awoken by the bedroom door flying open.

Her mother still angry with me walked in and scowled, Paula was by her side equally cross.
"We have to arrange a fitting. My friend Joyce will help," Mrs Rother cried her voice at fever pitch. "
I'm not wearing your stupid dress," Paula says sharply. "I've told you before."
I wince, as Mrs Rother looked fit to explode, so I tried to help. "It's lovely," I said merrily. "Paula you'll look very pretty."
 Paula glared at me angrily. "
If you love her bloody dress so much, you wear it," Paula screamed.

That was it. Those few words set her mother thinking and in a desperate bid to stop the wedding she suggested to Paula that we swapped roles. Most normal brides would perish the fault but not Paula she loved the idea. I'm not sure if it was a way of irritating her mother but I couldn't believe my ears.
"You're k**ding me?" I gasped. But she wasn't.
"Nonsense, it's a great idea. The dress will suit you so well. The bodice will accentuate your shapely figure and the delicate sleeves will make you look so young and slender," Mrs Rother smirked as I shuffle awkwardly. "I can see you now," she continued mockingly, "with your long glossy hair tied back, your face beautifully made-up, a colourful floral bouquet in your tiny manicured hands, with your idyllic bridesmaids holding your pretty train as you step majestically down the isle in heels."

She sighed and patted her dress lovingly. "This dress brings so many happy memories back of my wonderful day with your father, Paula. I'm so glad you suggested it. I would have preferred you to be wearing it but alternatively I couldn't think of a better person. You'll make me so happy," as she smiled and screws her eyes like a witch.
"I can't wear your dress," I cried, " I'd be a laughing stock!"
 "That's a shame then," Mrs Rother says menacingly. "I had my heart on my dress being worn again. If its not Paula it will have to be you, otherwise the weddings off. You won't get our blessing, Paula's father wouldn't give you away and you can pay for it yourself!"

Put that way I didn't have a great deal of choice. I wanted to marry Paula so much, but with no money to pay for the wedding myself and desperately wanting her mothers approval, I saw no other alternative. Paula was adamant she wasn't going to back down and the more she thought about me wearing the exquisite wedding dress (and how it upset her mother) the more excited she became.
 "Deal," I said reluctantly in the misguided belief that at the last minute they'd both change their minds.
 "Excellent," Mrs Rother grinned like a suitcase unzipping on three sides. "I have to say, despite your obvious inadequateness, when the chips are down you always do the right thing. Hasn't done you much good, of course but I'm proud of you anyway. Now then strip and lead the way."

"Not so fast," I folded my arms in a manly gesture of steely resolution but I had a nasty feeling that it just made me look as if I had an upset stomach.
 "What guarantee have I got that you're serious and this isn't a twisted, bitter plot to ridicule me?"
 Mrs Rother laughs mockingly. 'Absolutely nothing, my dear,' she grinned again, 'You'll just have to trust me.'
 Paula touched me gently on the arm and nuzzled her mouth on my neck. 'Don't worry, my darling,' she whispers, 'if this wins her over it will be a small price to pay.'
As the two of them sized me and the dress up I made some feeble excuse saying it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress and after howls of laughter Mrs Rother agreed. With some relief I then hoped that she would forget the notion.

I was very wrong and as preparations got under way they both got increasingly enthusiastic about me as the new bride. Invites where hastily changed again, guests informed, the vicar notified and I was literally frog-marched to the hire shop to return my grooms suit.
 I had a forlorn hope that the vicar would come to my rescue and refuse but to my surprise he was in fact a she and of the young modern breed. She saw no problem in the role switch as long as we loved each other. In fact, according to the gleeful Mrs Rother the Vicar seemed positively delighted with the idea. 'More couples should try it,' she said, 'men in skirts - that would bring them down to size, reduce their over inflated egos and give the relationship some hope of survival.'
Needless to say I didn't share her enthusiasm.

The inevitable day came when her mother invited me begrudgingly to her house for a fitting. Paula was at work and I got the day off. It was surreal being stripped by her mother, my future mother-in-law and being dressed as her bride to be daughter.

'Come on don't just sit there. Move!'

My legs were wobbly and defective. It took me three goes to get out the sofa, and Mrs Rother and her friend Joyce were laughing at me.

'Please Mrs Rother,' I pleaded. 'I'll be a laughing stock' but my cries went unnoticed as without the support of Paula, Mrs Rother showed her true feelings and didn't hold back.
 'Don't be so pathetic many men would be overjoyed to be dressing as a bride.'

 
'But I'm not many men,' I cried.
'Maybe not now but you will.' The two of them then grin like hyenas and I feel like a ten-year-old girl.

Joyce, an old school friend, could remember coming to Mrs Rother's wedding so seeing the dress again was a delight yet when Mrs Rother explained who was to be the bride she roared with laughter and Mrs Rother looked at me with a cocktail of anger and contempt.

'You, my lady,' she said, 'are going to the church as the beautiful feminine bride whether you like it or not or this weddings off."

Mrs Rother went to town with no half measures. To start she majestically selected a tiny pair of lace panties, matching bra, silk stockings and pretty suspenders.

'Is this necessary?' I said mildly, without looking up from the pile of expensive looking lingerie. 'All that you require is that I wear the wedding dress for a few hours, not become a complete woman.'

'Wrong, smartarse,' Mrs Rother snapped back. 'Got to wear the complete pretty outfit, or you won't do the dress justice, see? All right,' she went on. 'If you are to wear my bridal gown I don't want you looking like some cheap drag queen. You're to look 100% convincing. I don't want the guests to recognise you and that means wearing these lace panties, stockings, bra and corset. It's not just about a look. Don't you know anything? I want you to embrace the whole fairytale experience and become part of the dress as if its perfectly natural.'

'Corset,' I groaned.

'Yes, boned corset,' Mrs Rother confirmed. 'I didn't say it wasn't going to be plain sailing did I?'

'But ... But ' I whimper.

'Don't be so pathetic, what's the problem are you getting second thoughts?'

'No,' I sniff.'

'Well then, don't just stand there like a prune. Get these lace panties on.'

The panties where easy. They slipped on like cool silk and despite their small size they concealed my shrivelled cock beautifully and gave me an unmistakable feminine looking crutch. The corset on the other hand knocked the breath from me, pulled my waist in and after she had stuffed my bra cups with what she refereed to as chicken fillets I had an enviable figure. Mrs Rother then gave me such a look of sheer cold hatred I'd never seen before; it glowed through her eyes like candlelight through a Halloween pumpkin.

I shivered as I stood before them dressed in the romantic lingerie and felt a complete fool. I guessed this was her intention yet strangely I felt more determined than ever to carry it off, just to prove to my evil mother-in-law to be that I'd do anything to marry her daughter.

'How do I look?' I said in a high pitched, girlish voice as I rubbed my nylon covered legs together, pouted and pranced about the room swinging my hips. The two women gasped with my sudden role acceptance and clapped excitedly like little c***dren and to top it all Mrs Rother began to sing 'here comes the bride.' Then to my surprise she pulled a digital camera out from nowhere and snapped away like a professional photographer immortalising a catwalk model.

I tried to hide but there was no escape and she made me pose standing and bending in the most coy and sexy way, showing the lace on my panties and bra and how the stockings accentuated my long slender legs. I was soon exhausted with all the prancing about and as I calmed down Joyce dropped a sumptuous silk slip over my head. As it cascaded down my shoulders as if in slow motion my cock began to twitch excitedly. Joyce oblivious to my arousal then held the dress out invitingly and as I stepped into its many folds of silk and lace I came over dizzy with excitement.

'Very good,' Mrs Rother said, her voice full of savage delight. 'You're looking beautiful already.' I grinned as they hauled it up over my shoulders like a curtain and buttoned me in behind securely. It was heavy and fitted incredibly well. The skirts where full and hung from my hips in massive silken folds the bodice nipped me in at the waist and the lacy bust cupped my large breasts like a well fitting glove, the sleeves where perfect.

'What's it to be straps or off the shoulder?' she asked.

I had no idea, 'Straps,' I say then a moment later, 'off the shoulder,'

Joyce laughed. 'You change you're mind more often than a tart changes her knickers.'

As required they adjusted the dress so it hung off the shoulder and to my surprise it showed off my tan and made my shoulders look slim and feminine. In fact my skin changed or so I thought. It felt soft and supple and incredibly sensitive. I felt all the new materials is if for the first time and I became very aroused. I wanted more and was delighted when they made me step into a hoped underskirt that they pulled up under my skirts. I hoped they couldn't see my mounting excitement but on recollection I doubt nothing passed the eagle eyes of Mrs Rother.



The transformation was spectacular, my waist transformed into an hourglass as the skirts filled and hung outwards like a huge bell that swung demurely with every step. The two women even gasped and Mrs Rother studied me carefully, practically quivering with excitement, like a dog about to be walked. 'So this is the bride? Mrs Rother said, 'isn't he gorgeous. He's far better looking than I expected. He's so sexy and feminine, no one will ever know.'

Joyce nods excitedly, 'He reminds me of you on your wedding day,' she says fondly to Mrs Rother brushing down my skirts and for the first time I see her smile sensitively. I feel strangely captivated, twirl gently in a trance and the dress swings uncontrollably from side to side but after a few attempts I've grasped the general idea and I'm soon shaking my hips like a fairytale princess. I feel magical, I'm not repulsed at all and I savour every sensation and begin to realise, in a warped way, how lucky I was getting the opportunity to experience the bride's role.

They both saw the change in my sparkling eyes and laughed as I bent to the loud rustle of the tulle skirts and slipped on the white court shoes. My stocking covered feet slipped into them like oiled silk and they accentuated my shapely ankles in a way I could never imagine.

'Oh! I knew he would,' Mrs Rother chuckles with pride, ' he loves my dress just you watch he won't want to take it off.'

I frown somewhat alarmed at my appearance. 'You have no idea what its like,' I say, 'wearing a dress of such feminine importance when I feel like an impostor.'

They nodded knowingly and I felt trapped as if sinking in quicksand.

I'm sure they expected me to stamp my feet in frustration and stick my tongue out c***d like but instead I stood on the low stool so they could admire my transformation and adjust the hem. As I perched on the stool like a proud peacock I felt every bit like a young woman. As they fussed around me taking in bits here with pins and marking bits there I felt like the bride on a wedding cake and a warm pleasant glow flowed through my body. I closed my eyes and a warm dreamy wash cascaded through me. I was the bride all dressed in white and I was looking forward to my big day.

'How do you feel?' Mrs Rother familiar voice asked awakening me from my dream.

I took a deep breath because I knew this was going to sound stupid. There was a long pause and Mrs Rother seemed to shimmer, like the heat haze on the road.

'Don't be shy,' she said calmly, 'tell us your true feelings.'

I feel my face redden and twiddle with some sequins on my dress. 'I... I... I... feel pretty,' I say.

The two ladies grin proudly. 'Very good,' Mrs Rother said, 'I knew you had the right stuff, deep down inside where nobody but I could see it. You'll make the perfect bride all radiant in virginal white silk and lace. If Paula could see you now... She'd be so proud.' but then just as I feel I'm connecting with her and totally awash with femininity, Mrs Rother laughed. 'My arse,' she screamed. 'Paula will be horrified, when she claps eyes on your sissy transformation. You look more of a woman than she does,' and as she flicks an imaginary speck of dust from my skirt Joyce nodded, picks up the camera and takes even more incriminating photos.

'That's not fair,' I cry, 'I'm doing this for you. It was, if I may recall your idea.'

'Nonsense you're doing this because you want to be a woman and you love dressing in lingerie and a dress.'

'No, no,' I cry but deep down there was some hint of truth. Unbeknown to me I had a yearning that I had with held and Mrs Rother had unwittingly unleashed it. I was enjoying every moment and she knew it. I sighed, ran my hands over my skirt and realised if asked I would have happily traded my masculine life to one of femininity. I wanted to stay at home, wash, cook, clean and mother c***dren, it was most peculiar. I shifted my weight awkwardly from one foot to another and rubbed my nylon-clad legs together so that they rasped alluringly.

Mrs Rother grinned then almost spat the words. 'You're a pathetic sissy and you don't deserve my daughter.'

'N... N... No, that's not true,' I stammer yet I knew I wasn't saying it with conviction.

I gazed down at my dress and my feminised body, my beautiful white court shoes peeking from under the dress. I felt dizzy and just wanted them to be nice to me and accept me as a woman.

Remarkably the dress fitted like a second skin with only a few minor alterations required. But the ladies where not content. They needed to see me fully made up to evaluate the wedding days requirements. Therefore her mother quickly applied some creamy foundation with a sponge, dusted pink eye shadow on my lids with a brush, rolled black mascara on my lashes with a wand and coated my lips with a glossy pink lipstick and as I gazed at my face in the mirror I felt my eyes slowly dampen. I was so happy I began to enjoy playing the part of the blushing bride and it didn't take much imagination to become totally taken in by the masquerade.

Mr Rother came home from work as Joyce was clipping the long flowing train to my dress and Mrs Rother adjusted the huge bow on my bottom.
Mr Rother took a double take as he walked into the room cleaning his glasses. 'My goodness,' he said 'this gorgeous young thing can't be our...'
 He stood and stared from the doorway and put his glasses back on, squinted and adjusted his eyes to the light. Disappointment etched across his face.
Mrs Rother spoke first. 'Yes, darling its our future son in law. Doesn't he make you proud?'
Mr Rother never approved of his wives idea and looks at me as if I was something nasty he'd stepped on in the street.
'Look,' Mrs Rother says, 'look how he's taken to his new feminine role, like a duck to water,' and before I could stop her she lifted my skirts high and shown him my shaven legs, stockings and panties as if this extra feminisation made the picture complete.
'Remarkably it's our daughters wish,' he says begrudgingly. 'We should respect that. It's not me to give an opinion.'
Mrs Rother nodded. 'But you've got to agree doesn't she look beautiful? I'm sure you won't mind giving her away at the church.'

He nodded and I simultaneously imagined hanging off his arm as he proudly walked me down the isle. Yet despite everything I began to have doubts Mrs Rother seemed to be taking it to extremes and over the following weeks I felt my masculinity stripped from me as she made me grow my hair, shave my whole body and learn female mannerisms. I was even treated to a facial and a manicure as she readied me to the big event. Paula's mum seemed determined to feminise me not for a day but to make deep scarring changes that would take years to disappear. She took me to have my ears pierced, plucked my eyebrows into a feminine arch, insisted I wear panties under my trousers at all time and made me grew my nails which she insisted I coat with clear varnish, until I could hardly do anything manual. Work began to get suspicious as though they knew about the wedding I hadn't told them who was to be the bride. I just hoped I could hold them off until after the big day when I could cut my hair and nails and resume my normal life.

Mrs Rother even insisted that I learn to dance. She had this wild romantic notion that Paula and I take to the floor for the first dance. Paula knew how to dance already so Mrs Rother paid for me to do lessons at a local school so I could surprise Paula with my new talent. And she was going to be surprised for sure as Mrs Rother enrolled me as Kristy and took me to and from lessons insisting I dressed the part. She bought me a black crepe dress, a bee-stripe sweater and a gold lame miniskirt, and a black wrap dress. I was the smartest there and I not only learnt to dance as a woman the whole experience made me act more and more like a young woman.

It all seemed so extreme and I feared Paula would go off my new feminised body but as the wedding approached because Mrs Rother seemed to be more accepting of me Paula became more and more comfortable with the whole idea of marriage. Though if the truth is to be known I noticed a change in Paula that I found a little unsettling.

She began to talk to me like a woman, she would chat about fashion, ask my opinion, talk about men and emotions. We didn't have sex very often. I assumed she was saving herself for the wedding night and when we did she took control but could I blame her. I was looking increasingly feminine and I found it difficult to be the macho man wearing panties, with increasingly longer hair, a smooth body and pierced ears and arched brows.

For the wedding rehearsal Paula asked me to her house so we could go with her parents. I had been dreading the event and as it turned out I had good reason. As soon as I arrived the two of them whisked me upstairs and made me strip in front of them. I was embarrassed to be wearing panties but that was nothing to the pretty floral dress they expected me to wear to church. Secretly I loved it but feebly protested, as I knew they expected. Apparently they'd spun a line to the vicar implying that I dressed as a woman 100% of the time therefore turning up in jeans may jeopardise the whole proceedings. Twenty minutes later I was dressed in a fresh lacy pair of panties, sheer tights, matching bra and an incredibly feminine dress. Mrs Rother handed me an outrageously high pair of heels.

I smirked as I took them from her.
'You're k**ding right?' I gasped.
 'You should know me by now darling these shoes will transform your legs into a shapely turn. They'll complete your outfit. They'll give you height, authority, poise and can completely change the mood.'
 'But were only going to the church,' I muttered.
'More reason to look your best. The vicars expecting to marry a beautiful bride so you can't disappoint her at the reception.'

I frown and look at Paula but she smiles reassuringly glad that its me not her wearing the girlish dress.

Not surprisingly I tottered precariously about as both women laughed at my pathetic attempts to master the heels. Mrs Rother gave me some tips and within a few minutes I was striding like a catwalk model and she was right I was transformed. This was the first Paula had seen me in a dress and she was surprised at how convincing I looked.

'My goodness,' she said, her jaw almost touching the floor you look absolutely stunning I should be jealous. That dress looks better on you than me.'
I grinned like a teenage girl, clutched the floaty hem and fine slip and twirled on the carpet like a ballerina. It was easy in my new unmarked heels and as I spun gracefully I lifted my skirt to reveal my pretty lace panties. I heard her gasp with surprise but to my disappointment Paula was less than supportive. She mocked my enthusiasm and even implied that I'd make a better wife than a husband. I wasn't pleased. I couldn't win, the situation seemed hopeless and to make matters worse I saw Mrs Rother curl her lips upwards in a cruel smile as if half expecting Paula's reaction.

'Women who choose a high heel over a sensible shoe enjoy mischief-making,' Mrs Rother said. 'They enjoy political incorrectness, looking good in clothes and just a little personal torture.' she grinned like a cat that's got the cream and I noticed a slight frown of concern on Paula's brow.
The next couple of hours where surreal. Dressing in the wedding dress in Mrs Rother house was kinda fun and innocent, a bit like a fancy dress but this was different. I was now masquerading as a convincing woman and everything I experienced was new. Getting in and out of the car without showing too much leg, walking one toe in front of the other, swinging my hips, head up proud, holding a handbag and talking in a high pitched voice.

Everything went as planned even the choir boys didn't expect a thing. And yes I even enjoyed wearing the new dress, clutching my handbag and brushing away my hair in a suggestive manner. And the lipstick was gorgeous. It tasted of cherry and I loved the feeling of rich glossy lips I couldn't help but wanting to keep touching it up and checking my reflection in any mirror. After the rehearsal we went for a drink in the village pub. I thought I'd be embarrassed but by now, especially after the dance classes, wearing the dress was second nature and I could easily walk the walk and talk the talk. When I went to the toilet Paula came with me. She seemed concerned. I asked her if anything had changed and she paused momentarily before replying. 'As long as you haven't changed,' she said with a wink.

'Of course not,' I said moving towards her to kiss her but it was difficult to be convincing with your legs encased in nylons, a heavy filled bra wrapped round your chest, a light dress hanging from your shoulders, floating round your thighs and your feet squeezed into towering heels. She pushed me away with distaste. And I was about to protest when another girl joined us. She said hello and we both smiled as I went into a cubicle. That was my first ever experience of going to the toilet a woman and I loved it. I enjoyed hitching up my dress, pulling my tights and panties down, even squatting over the seat. It all seemed so natural. As I finished and dapped myself with some tissue alarm bells immediately rang in my head. Why didn't I stand I wondered but there was something about the dress and the situation that made standing inappropriate. Women don't stand, I wasn't a man therefore I sit. I shuddered at my own thoughts, flushed and hurriedly rearranged my pretty dress.

Unbeknown to me Graham stayed in touch with Paula at work. I guess it was difficult not too. Mrs Rother sent him an email of me wearing the wedding lingerie and the dress and he learnt about the new wedding arrangements. I can still hear him ridiculing me now and at the time I was fearful of losing Paula so I made even more of an effort to please. Then to my amazement Paula dropped a bombshell. She wanted Graham to be best man and I stupidly agreed.

On the morning of the wedding unbeknown to me as I was being dressed and having my face done Graham popped round to see Paula. In his smart morning suit he made one last attempt to win her away from me. You can imagine what he focused on... Me upstairs in her mothers wedding dress seemingly loving every minute.
 Like I did a few months earlier he apparently dropped on one knee but instead of a cheap tin ring pull he produced the diamond engagement ring he'd bought for her a few months ago. Again like I had done before he let rip with his feelings and how he was concerned that I was a secret cross dresser. I'm sure it didn't take much convincing I had made sure of that. Then to her surprise he announced how he had booked a registry office wedding when he originally proposed and not cancelled it. They where due in a two hours and if they hurried they could wed before the church service.

'What do you want as a husband? A man who dresses as a woman or a real man?' he said.
 To his surprise she said yes and in an excited frenzy they fled the house as her mother struggled to lace me into my tight corset.
 Outside they met Tina and Jon, two friends from university who where guests and they all went to the registry as witnesses. Paula explained on the way her change of heart. If she was in any doubt Jon and Tina did Graham many favours as they joined in devaluing my status as a man and suitable partner. Two hours later as I had my hair combed and the bridal headdress clipped in place they where back at her mothers house as legal man and wife. Paula I believe had the full intention to stop the wedding but when faced with her excited mother she didn't have the heart to tell everyone yet again about the change of plan. So Paula quickly changed into her grooms suit in a confused state with the intention of saying something latter. I was secretly smuggled out of the house so she couldn't see me. I was then driven to the church with my bridesmaids and her father who had no idea what had just happened. To waste time the chauffeur drove round the town a few times and as I gazed nervously out the window my heart fluttering, smiling at all the women who looked at me enviously unaware of my Identity.

I've no idea what was going through Grahams and Paula's minds as the two of them sat at the front of the church as man and wife whilst I dressed up as a the radiant bride stood outside the church door trembling like a leaf with her father. Jon and Tina had taken a pew and sat equally bemused. The organ began to play and Mr Rother took my hand proudly and led me down the flower-laden isle. Of course, as I approached the alter each tiny step made it more difficult to stop the proceedings. The guests where wonderful, I think they all knew that it was me under the dress and make-up but they where so understanding and I didn't see one person chuckle or smirk and I felt myself want to cry with happiness. It was really a dream come true... or was it?

She didn't, no one gave a reason why we shouldn't wed. I said 'I do' and so did Paula. She put her wedding ring on my finger, next to her diamond engagement ring that I borrowed and kissed me as her bride. Next minute we signed the registry and posed for photographs outside the church in the sun. Oblivious to what had gone on I tossed my pretty flower bouquet to the eager onlookers, as I was deliriously happy and blissfully unaware of what had gone on.
 Graham played along with the charade smug that he had married my true love first. We where driven to the hotel for the wedding breakfast and she chatted to me excitedly and didn't once let on that she had already married Graham.
 Though excited I could tell something was amiss. Our guests where great and we walked past them in a line as we entered the hotel. Most of them where friends of Paula or her parents acquaintances. I had no family and dare not invite anyone from work. Not one of them mentioned my gender instead I got told how pretty I looked and how they liked my hair or make-up. We ate, Paula and Graham all did a speech and everything seemed normal. As they cleared the tables away and some more guests arrived I politely excused myself to change. Still no one said anything and Mrs Rother was sweetness itself as she offered to help me out of the dress. That's where I got my another shock as in the bedroom room designated for me to change wasn't my smart trousers, shirt and jacket but a gorgeous chiffon summers dress.

'I decided your going away outfit was inappropriate,' she said, 'you can't wear trousers after my wedding dress so I choose you something more fitting to your character.'
'I can't wear this I protest holding the light flimsy dress, 'What will Paula think?'
That's when she smiled cruelly. 'She helped me choose it, Paula though you made such a lovely wife you should stay as one for as long as possible.'
Too be honest, as you can know doubt tell I had enjoyed the attention and secretly loved being the bride for the day.

I even dreaded taking off the wedding dress and think many of the guests though confused, had thought of me as the bride. I was hating the moment when I had to step out of the feminine wedding dress and into a smart trousers suit. I wasn't sure if I could carry it off and even thought I would look overtly camp or like a woman in mans clothes as I'd become so conditioned as a woman. It had to be said but the past month dressing in lingerie 24/7 behaving as a convincing young lady had taken its toll on me. I feared that I felt more comfortable in the submissive feminine role than the strong masculine role. I had enjoyed all the attention, looking pretty and having all the decisions made for me. I looked at the chiffon dress on the bed, it was stunning and I could almost hear it calling my name. I felt like a fly caught in a spiders web and as I struggled I became more entwined and the spider scuttled towards me its fangs dripping with the paralysing venom. Mrs Rother saw my fear and hurriedly unbuttoned me from the dress.

'Come on dear the guests and groom await.' I winced as she unhooked the corset but loved the idea of the chiffon dress. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity but what would Paula say?
In a dizzy state I let Mrs Rother undress me again then redress me in the sexy chiffon dress. This time it felt so gloriously natural I didn't resist. I knew what to do and compared to the wedding dress it felt so light and comfortable I hardly felt it on.
But my joy was short lived - The dress was fitted and to my horror showed my complete lack of hips the material sadly sagged around my bum. I looked like a ruler and very unfeminine despite my large breasts. Mrs Rother came to the rescue... her solution was a pair of padded panties. She had apparently thought of everything I thought as I lifted my skirts up to my waist but instead of an over girdle type foundation thing they where figure hugging panties of an incredibly tight and stretchy fabric. She rather unceremoniously tore down my miniscule panties and pushed me over the sofa back like a naughty c***d about to receive some form of punishment. Strangely I trusted her implicitly and thought nothing unusual as I back stepped into the padded panties

Mrs Rother gave a long, sad sigh. 'Strange as it may seem, in one respect I envy you. You have experienced being a man and a woman and I have not. You have seen both sides. Of course, I know all there is to know about men, but only second hand. You, by contrast, have been on the front line, you've seen it and lived it, and that is a different matter entirely. And very soon she added, with an almost wistful expression, 'You'll be there again as a woman, except this time you will not becoming back as a man. Now if you are ready, we may as well proceed with your total feminisation and ultimate divorce.'

Wine can make your head spin but it took me only half a second to translate feminisation and divorce. With a yelp like a dog, I jumped back, or tried to but with my knees cuffed together with the padded panties my feet stayed where they where, as though they'd been set in concrete by a very discreet gangster. Mrs Rother frowned. It was the sort of frown I remember from being a k**. This won't hurt, her expression was telling me. Don't be such a sissy. It's for your own good. You'll like it once they're up.' Then I felt something hard brush against my inside leg.
'Hold on,' I whimper.

'I could of course explain these,' Mrs Rother replied. 'But what would be the point? Please keep still. I want to get back to the party, I have many people to see after I've finished with you, and a little co-operation would be most welcome. Nothing you can do could possibly alter the outcome, and its churlish to cause inconvenience to others for the sake of being difficult.'

I tried wriggling out of the way, but my arms and legs didn't seem to be working. She pulled the padded panties higher and the tight Lycra slowly enveloped my thighs until she began to pull the tight material over my butt. I felt the hard object again. But this time it pressed against my sphincter. It was cold and strangely greasy.
'I regret having to do this; of course, such a blunt, brutal approach is practically an admission of defeat.

However, I have to say, you have nobody to blame but yourself. This may probably the shortest wedding in history. Goodbye. It was hardly a pleasure having known you, but most certainly an education.' and with that she hauls the panties over my butt even further and the hard object presses against my most intimate opening as if an arrow head stretched on a bow. But this was no slender arrowhead and as it teased my opening I could only guess its girth. I gasp as she cups my gusset and presses it firmly, with no remorse into my passage with one long smooth movement.

'Bend further over,' she barks pushing it deeper into me. 'Did you honestly think my daughter wants a complete sissy as a husband? This little extra feminisation will be the final straw. There is only so much girlie behaviour even my daughter can endure in a man.' She slaps my buttocks and my muscle stretches and my eyes water with pain. 'Call this a wedding present from your new parent-in-laws' she laughs and pushes it fully in place with a satisfying slap.

I stand motionless filled to capacity as a new feminine sensation flows though me. I feel defenceless, submissive and hopelessly like a woman, I totter on my heels, off balance as my tiny cock suddenly twitches and quite inexplicably I gasp and dribble my excitement into the foundation panties. Guilt must have shown on my face but Mrs Rother ignores it.

'These padded dildo panties are so functional but not very pretty,' she chirps holding out a fresh pair of panties for me to step into. 'Lets cover them up with something pretty we don't want to spoil Paula's surprise do we?'
My eyes where still watering. They had performed miracles in more ways than one. I now had a fleshy backside that was unmistakably female and the ivory coloured chiffon dress now clung to my every curve. Plus any drop of masculinity that hadn't been wrung from me over the last few months squeezed out like water from a bed sheet fed through a Victorian mangle.

I should have argued my case, stood my corner but I was strangely drawn to my new image and thirty minutes later my mother-in-law took my delicate manicured hand and waltzed me back into the reception hall. I say waltzed but the new shoes, dress and plug took some getting used to. Yet despite the discomfort I rather enjoyed the sensation.

The lights where dimmed in the main hall for the dancing yet my entrance was spectacular. Physically it was impossible to cower in my new heels. They forced me to take a stand, to strike a pose, because anatomically my centre of gravity had been displaced forward. I proudly waltzed across the floor my large buxom hips swinging wildly as the plug settled deep inside me. Paula was gob smacked with my appearance and the bemused guests looked even more bewildered. Paula, eyes on stalks, smacked my rump unaware of the dildo deep inside my arse then took my hand and waltzed me round the dance floor taking the lead.

My new 4 inch ivory patent shoes with their satin bows where a dream. I danced like Ginger Rogers, remembering my every taught move as she squeezed me round the waist. And as I clung to her my heart fluttered and my wilted spent cock throbbed excitedly.
 'What on earth have you done? Where did you get this dress? It's certainly not one of mine. I wouldn't be seen dead in anything so feminine. Where's your going away suit? Aren't you taking this a bit far?'
 I smiled awkwardly as the penny began to drop.
'Your mother said you bought it,' I whimpered.
 Paula didn't look convinced, 'and yet you still wore it?'
'I thought you wanted me to' I cry as the dildo panties seemingly slipped deeper and deeper within me.
'Doh! No, I think this charade has out stayed its welcome people are starting to talk. They must think I'm well odd.'
'What,' I trembled, 'if they think that about you. What about me? I'm the one wearing the chiffon dress.'

Then Paula seems to look at me differently as if she had made a sudden decision one that she had been wresting with for months. 'You do look amazing,' Paula gasps holding me by the hands at arms length as we danced. 'The dress is so flattering, your hips so incredibly wide and womanly, your bum so fleshy and those shoes are just so you... I don't know how you do it. You don't want me, you want a groom.'
 The very words make me cum yet again and oddly I grin proudly but wonder how I was going to explain my foundation garments.

We danced and danced occasionally swapping partners and I soon forgot about my dildo panties and the dress. Graham the loser, or so I thought, seemed to be taking it rather well. He even asked for a dance. This was obviously awkward but rather than make a scene I accepted. We danced in silence his hands wandering all over me as if checking out what I wore and yes as his hands groped my arse he smiled almost knowingly and he pressed up close so I could feel his huge cock against my thin dress. Paula's dad was next and he danced masterfully. I think he forgot who I was as he too held me close.
'If only I was thirty years younger.' he said holding my back and hand dancing a tango.

Later as Paula and I danced yet again I began to flag and she took that moment to quietly tell me of what she had done. The registry wedding, her true feelings, everything, Graham, her mother. I was heart broken again but this time I quite inexplicably burst into tears.
 She put a reassuring arm around me and whisked me to the ladies toilets.
 'Don't worry. I know your upset that's understandable, I feel terrible. I didn't want to cause you distress but I felt something was wrong. The past few months have confirmed that. I'm sorry.'
 'Its because I'm wearing this stupid dress,' I cried between sobs.
'Its not just the dress,' she says reassuringly, 'though you have taken to it rather well.'
 'I knew it,' I cry, 'I shouldn't have let your mother do this to me. I can never go back how I was. It's true I love being pretty and feminine. I loved being the bride and I love this dress.'

Paula was delighted with my confession. It seemed to indemnify her actions. 'I love you in this dress too,' she says, 'but not as a husband. Graham and you are very special yet you are quite different. I don't want to lose you and I'm sure we can work something out. Graham and I are doing well at work he's promised to buy me a huge house and I bet we could persuade him to let you stay. We won't be able to cope on our own.'

She gave me a hug and dried my tears and I reapplied my make-up. She took my trembling hand and led me back into the party. I was immediately whisked away by another man to dance and out of the corner of my eye I saw Paula tell her mother and father the news.

It was evident that they where delighted by the way the mother held her hands and hugged Paula with enthusiasm. What now I mused? But Graham had vanished.

After her parents were informed, I felt tricked and considered running away but miles from anywhere dressed in the dress with high heels it didn't seem a wise idea. I didn't have to worry for long as Paula pulled me off the dance floor. 'Don't say anything. Lets go away as planned and lets sort it out in the morning.'

I nodded and as if by magic Mrs Rother appeared and held out for me a brown angora coat with fur collar and cuffs and placed a felt fedora on my head. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and thought I looked like a movie star. The vintage car took us both to our hotel. Our guests waved us goodbye.

Back at the hotel despite everything Paula took great delight stripping me out of my dress and as she pushed me onto the bed for a moment I forgot about the fiasco. I was hers and wanted her to take me there and then.

But as she lifted my slip she saw the padded panties and recoiled in horror. 'Oh my goodness,' she said clasping a hand over her mouth, 'I've seen those before. My mother talked about these when we played a joke on one of her friends. They where never worn of course... up until now that is. What on earth made you wear them? Are you telling me you prefer to receive than to give? You really are a sissy.'

I began to cry and wanted to run away but as I sopped into a handkerchief. Graham walked through the door a smile so wide on his face I though his head might split in two.

Paula seemed delighted to see him and she ran into his arms and they kissed. Graham leered at me cruelly and I watched the two of them take delight in seeing me squirm with humiliation.

I could take no more and opened the wardrobe to see if my trousers had been delivered so I could make my escape. What I saw was another surprise. The wardrobe was full of clothes but not my trousers. I flicked through the pretty things quickly in a state of shock. There was a short black crepe dress, a bee-stripe sweater and a gold lame miniskirt, a black wrap dress, a silver mini dress, a black silk-satin blouse, a pair of velvet trousers, mary-jane shoes, suede boots, silver sling-backs, Cuban heeled boots, a jersey dress. I could go on but I shut the door quickly.

'They're for you,' Graham said, 'consider them as a consolation prize.'

What happens next? Do we live together? Do I remain as the faithful second wife and take on all the domestic duties? Does Graham take advantage of me or do I just revel in being a kept woman?