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CAR PARK AMBUSH. Mark was a quite unassuming sort of boy. I say boy, in fact he was 18 years old but with his slim frame, blonde hair and boyish looks he was rarely taken for more than 14. His mother considered him to be something of a wimp, and was constantly criticizing him saying he was more like a girl than a boy. The last time he'd been the subject of one of his mothers ridiculing sessions, it was in front of the next door neighbour, her comments consisted mainly of suggesting that but for a few anatomical differences, both his older sisters were more manly than he was. Mark stood by passively and wished he was anywhere but there, and eventually he acted on his wishes, managing to sneak away without his mother noticing. After taking a quick shower and changing into clean clothes, he rushed down to the local shopping centre where he'd arranged to meet his Aunt Joan as, unbeknown to his mother, he did regularly on Saturdays. He found her sitting at a table outside the coffee lounge and smiled as she greeted him with her usual genuine warmth. Joan was one of the few women Mark knew who actually treated him like a human being. But then, his contact with women was pretty much confined to his 2 sisters his mother and his Aunt Joan, and with the exception of his aunt, they all treated him like a servant. Despite the fact that he was quite a good-looking young man, he'd never been out with a girl, since, apart from lacking the courage to approach any that he'd met, he was rarely attracted to girls in his own age group. In fact, the only woman he'd ever really fancied was his Aunt Joan. At 32 years old, she was 10 years his mother's junior, and as different from her as it was possible to be. Not altogether surprising since they were not actually related, by blood that is. Joan was in fact his uncle's ex wife and unlike her sister-in -law, Joan was shapely and very feminine, and would never dream of being seen out without her make up. Mark was equally confident that, unlike his mother, she wouldn't be seen dead in a tracksuit or, for that matter, any other outfit his mother owned. Consequently, it was always Joan, or an imaginary woman usually very similar to her, who featured in his fantasies. This infatuation started at an early age for Mark; in fact he couldn't have been more than 6 years old when he had his first sexual encounter. Well perhaps sexual encounter was a little strong, his mother had told him to bring her something from her bedroom, and since she was obviously downstairs he walked straight in without knocking. He was confronted by a 20 year old Aunt Joan adjusting the strap on her suspender, and even though he'd seen his mother in similar states of undress on numerous occasions, the sight of his aunt's stockinged leg had a profound and quite stirring effect on him. He stopped in his tracks and stared open- mouthed at the leg. His aunt smiled at his reaction and asked, "Do you think I have good legs Mark?" Mark had no idea what constituted 'good legs' but he knew he liked what he saw and nodded his head yes. Joan rearranged her skirt and as she walked past him to leave the room, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and said, "Thank you kind sir." While he had no idea what she was thanking him for, he felt a surge of pride at pleasing her, and the scene became indelibly etched on his memory from that day onwards. It was always a highlight of his day whenever he heard his Aunt Joan was coming to visit, in fact he'd often stay home and wait for her if it was mentioned in passing that she might call round, and he was always bitterly disappointed if she didn't arrive. When he thought back to it in later years, Mark suspected that the occasional glimpses he would get of stocking tops, or bra straps, and even, on one memorable occasion, black lace panties, were not quite as accidental as they had appeared to be at the time. Even his first ejaculation had been into a pair of Aunt Joan's silk panties. She'd been staying for a few days and a 14-year-old Mark had crept into her room and 'borrowed' them. He had fully intended to return them, he just wanted to feel them for a while and to this end, he went into the bathroom and locked the door. He removed his short pants and white underpants, and then slowly he began wrapping the soft pink garment around his limp penis. It immediately began to grow in his hand, but then within seconds he felt what seemed like billions of butterflies flittering around his stomach and kidneys, and a thick sticky liquid started shooting from the end of his cock. He pulled the panties away, but too late, they were already covered in the stuff. Although he'd heard boys talk about what had just happened to him, it still frightened him slightly. But nowhere near as much as the sight of the wet stain spreading across the lovely soft panties. In panic, he filled the sink with water and poured hair shampoo over the stain trying to wash them, but then he had the problem of drying them. One that he actually solved quite ingeniously, After dressing himself, he took the wet panties down to the back of the garden and hung them in the abandoned greenhouse. Except for Mark, no one had visited there since his father had left 10 years earlier. Within an hour the panties were completely dry, unfortunately for Mark, he hadn't succeeded in washing out the stain, so he hid them in his underwear drawer hoping his aunt wouldn't notice they were missing, and since she never mentioned them, he assumed she hadn't. From that day onwards, Mark masturbated into the panties daily, sometimes 2 or 3 times. Sadly, he was no longer as assiduous with his laundering of the garment, and a few days later his mother discovered them in his drawer, the stiffness leaving no doubt in her mind as to what Mark had been using them for. She was furious, Mark had been sitting in the lounge room with his sisters when she stormed in and thrust the offending garment under his nose. "WHAT?S THIS YOU FILTHY, FILTHY ANIMAL?" She demanded. Then before Mark could respond, not that there was much he could say, she jerked him to his feet, pulled down his pants and underpants, dragged him over her knee and beat him mercilessly. Though he was used to quite regular beatings, Mark had never experienced such a sustained thrashing in his life and was soon screaming and begging her to stop, which she did, only when exhaustion took it?s toll. As she finished the beating, he was pushed unceremoniously from her knee onto the floor, and almost immediately ordered to his room, an order that he obeyed gratefully. Still sobbing, he removed the rest of his clothing and lay face down on his bed. A few minutes later his mother flung the bedroom door open and, with his sisters standing at the door sniggering and whispering, she strode to his bedside and glared down at him, then turned to his older sister and ordered her to stand on the other side of the bed. Mark was terrified, he had no idea what his mother intended, but he was certain it wasn't going to be pleasant, and it was made even more unbearable by the fact that his sisters were witnessing the whole incident. His mother grabbed both his arms and pulled them savagely behind him. "Cross those wrists you filthy pig." She demanded, then pulling a piece of rope from her pocket, she secured his arms tightly behind his back. "Now Rowena," She said to his sister, "I want you to see to it that this perverts arms are tied exactly like this every night before he goes to bed. And if he gives you the slightest trouble you have my permission to punish him." Looking down at Mark she added, "Let?s see you get up to your disgusting habits now young man." With that they all walked out leaving Mark to cry himself to sleep, a sleep which was constantly interrupted by the discomfort of his bound wrists. That was the start of six of the most miserable weeks in Mark's life. Rowena, who had always enjoyed humiliating him at every opportunity, had now been given carte blanche to do so whenever she felt the slightest urge. If he protested she simply threatened to tell their mother he'd been refusing to cooperate when she tried to tie his arms at night. They both knew the consequences of that, so he had no option but to accept her sadistic treatment. While she never resorted to anything that would actually be classified as 'torture' she still succeeded in making his life a living hell. She would order him to kneel down and kiss her feet in the street, and quite regularly before he was allowed to get into bed, she would make him masturbate into his own hand and then eat it. He was also expected to do all her chores, including her personal laundry. Every night before she tied his hands, she removed her soiled panties and ordered him to wear them to bed. They both knew exactly what would happen if his mother ever saw him wearing them, what's more, she insisted he continue to wear them as he walked though to the bathroom every morning, where he then had to rinse them thoroughly and hang them on the shower rail to dry. About 2 weeks into his ordeal his mother had to go out of town for the day and left Rowena in charge. The taxi carrying his mother had hardly disappeared round the corner before Rowena ordered Mark up to her room. Since she never permitted him to enter her room normally, he suspected he wasn?t going to enjoy the rest of the day and, to a large extent he was correct. Rowena, with the help and encouragement of his other sister Brigid, had him remove all his clothes, this in itself didn?t bother Mark unduly, he'd often been seen naked by both his sisters. However, when they sat him at the dressing table and began sorting through Rowena's extensive collection of make up, he became quite agitated. He wanted desperately to leave, but, as if anticipating his move, Rowena delivered a stern warning of the result of any failure to cooperate fully with them. A few minutes later they began the arduous, for Mark at least, task of applying copious amounts of make up to his face. As he sat quietly through the ordeal, Mark felt mixed emotions of horror at the thought of his face being made up, and excitement for the same reason. His thoughts went back to his childhood, to the day when Rowena had last done his face before dressing him up in some of his mother's clothes. They had both marched proudly into the lounge room where his mother sat reading. Her reaction on seeing her 5-year-old son in drag had stunned them both. She'd leapt to her feet screaming abuse at him, and dragging him to the nearest chair, she pulled him over her knee, and gave him a terrible thrashing. She had made him leave the make up on for 2 days as punishment. And it was during that time that he fell in love with Aunt Joan. She'd called round for a visit and when she saw his face, she laughed, then gave him a hug and said he made a beautiful girl. To a boy starved of compliments, this crumb, even though it should have upset Mark, made him feel good. Quite often after that, when he knew no one was around, he would paint his lips with his mother's lipstick, to try and make himself beautiful again. But what his sister's were doing now was different; they weren?t just using a bit of lipstick, something that could easily be removed if anyone came. They were covering his face in make up and it would take a great deal of time to remove it. They'd also teased his collar length hair into a far more feminine style and lavished it with hair spray to keep it in place. Mark suspected it would take a good half-hour to return his face and hair to acceptable male standards, and even though he was enjoying the attention he was receiving, he was also becoming more and more nervous. Both emotions were to continue, and if anything, increase when Rowena announced that they were going to dress him in some of her old clothes and that he was to wear them for the rest of the day. He tried a half hearted appeal but knew nothing would deter her, apart from which, the truth was he was more than a little excited at the prospect of wearing women's clothing again, as the memories of his Aunt Joan's reaction all those years ago came flooding back. This, coupled with the more recent feelings of her silk panties when he'd used them to masturbate, made him almost enthusiastic to dress up. And before long he was wearing pink lace panties and matching bra (padded with tissues to give him small breasts) tights, a short red tartan skirt and a white blouse. His feet were squeezed into a pair of Brigid's shoes with one-inch heels. At 16 she wasn't yet permitted anything higher and Rowena refused to let him ruin any of hers. In an odd way, his sisters treated him better that afternoon, than they had in many years. It was as if he was more of a friend than a younger brother and he was actually beginning to enjoy himself, but then, as if realising this and wishing to correct it, Rowena announced that they were all going out for a walk. Mark was horrified, he begged her not to make him, but she was adamant, obviously enjoying his discomfort. Mark soon realised that the more he pleaded, the more resolute Rowena became, so eventually, no matter how reluctant he was, he had no option but to accept his fate. In the end it was all something of an anticlimax, they took one turn around the block and then returned to the house without meeting a single soul. After this Mark was permitted to remove the clothing and make-up which, he was confused to find, he did with some reluctance. His mother never learned of his afternoon's feminisation and from then on, Rowena wasn't quite as cruel or demanding. It was almost as if the day to day humiliations were inadequate after making him spend a day dressed as a girl. And then a few weeks later Rowena left home to go to college and Brigid took on the mantle of tormentor. Unlike Rowena, Brigid really wasn?t interested in humiliating Mark, in fact, as long as he did her chores and kept her room tidy for her, she was happy to leave him pretty much alone. And since his mother no longer bothered to check, she didn?t even tie his hands when he went to bed, though secretly, Mark did miss sleeping in panties. The Saturday afternoon trysts had become the highlight of Mark's otherwise tedious life so he was crushed when, after finishing her coffee, Joan apologised to him saying she had a pressing engagement which she'd been unable to get out of. Mark had been hoping to spend at least a couple of hours with her and here she was, kissing him goodbye and climbing into her car. "Don?t worry Mark, I'm sure I'll be seeing you very soon." She smiled, then starting the car she sped away. Mark watched his aunt disappear into the distance before turning to re- enter the shopping mall. It was then that he saw the woman struggling with a trolley full of shopping. Despite his upbringing and treatment at the hands of his mother and sisters, he liked women, and seeing this lady in need of assistance he hurried over to lend a hand. With his aid, she managed to guide the trolley to her car, and together, they transferred the shopping. "Thanks very much for your help, I really appreciate it. Now all I have to do is get this lot from the car to my place. I don't know how, I should have had home delivery, but as usual I underestimated how much I'd bought. I don't suppose... No, forget it, thanks again." She turned to go. "Don't suppose what, is there some other way I can help?" Mark asked eagerly. The woman was very friendly and actually treated him like a human being. Apart from his Aunt Joan, Mark wasn't used to that kind of treatment from a woman and he wanted to prolong the experience. "Well I just thought, maybe you would help me carry them at the other end. I only live a few blocks away, and I'd be very grateful for your help. But then, a good looking boy like you probably has better things to do than help a haggard old lady like me." 'Old lady,' Mark thought to himself, looking her over and, not for the first time, deciding she was extremely attractive. She was around 35, had an excellent figure, shoulder length wavy auburn hair, and a beautiful smile, which she was now using on him. He decided she must be a secretary or maybe even in management, because she was dressed in a very smart light brown two piece outfit, and looked every inch the efficient executive. "Old lady, you, you must be joking. You can't be more than 25, and I'm not even going to dignify the 'haggard' with a response. And in answer to your earlier question, I'd love to help, though quite honestly, I'm surprised there aren't several men fighting me for the privilege." He enjoyed flattering women, though he was rarely given the opportunity. Usually he confined his remarks to shop assistants, and Aunt Joan of course, though in her case it was more fact than flattery, particularly in his eyes. He knew his flattery made women feel good, which in turn made him feel good, and anyway, what harm did it do. He'd noticed that mature women accepted flattery in a way which girls his own age group never did, this was another reason why he preferred older women. Tricia was no exception; she smiled said thank you and allowed him to open her car door for her. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help Mark." Tricia said as he carried in the last of the groceries. "Tell you what, why don't you make us a coffee while I try to pull these damned shoes off my feet, I've been suffering all day with them, and I can't take another step. You don't mind, do you? Mines white no sugar." Mark didn't mind at all, he loved doing things for Tricia, because she was so grateful, and he wasn't used to that at all. He sat opposite her and sipped his coffee. Tricia lit a cigarette, and drank her own coffee silently. Though his head was bowed, he was staring at her thigh, which was exposed where her skirt had fallen open. She had superb legs, and he tried to picture them in something more flattering than the flesh coloured tights, which covered them at present. He was suddenly aware of her eyes examining him, and he blushed, positive she was reading his mind. She seemed not to notice his colour as she asked him if he was from around here. Followed by other mundane questions, which he answered quietly. Then she caught him off guard by saying, "Look, I know you've done a lot for me already, but I wonder if I could impose once more?" Mark nodded eager as a puppy to please her. "My feet are killing me, would you be a dear and bring some soap and water from the bathroom so I can soak them?" He didn't need asking twice, almost spilling his coffee in the rush to comply with her request. In no time at all he was placing the bowl at her feet. "Would you like to do them for me?" She lifted one of her feet toward him. He was about to plunge it into the water when she pulled it away laughing. "Silly, you'll need to pull my tights off first. Please, don't be embarrassed, I just don't have the energy to do it myself." Rather than reach up under her skirt, Mark pulled the tights from the thigh. At first they didn't move, but Tricia, with a slight look of amusement, raised her behind to allow him to pull them off successfully. As they came down, Mark saw to his horror, that he had pulled her panties off with them, He turned a deep crimson, as he tried to decide, whether he should pull them back up, or pretend he hadn't noticed. Tricia just sighed, and said how pleasant it was to be free of the clothing. Relaxing slightly, Mark peeled the tights down her legs and tossed them aside before settling down to wash her feet; he had never realised how much pleasure a simple task like that could afford. "Do you think I have good legs Mark?" Tricia asked conversationally. Pointing a toe to emphsise the shape. "I'm quite proud of them, though I wish I didn't have to wear those ugly tights all day. I much prefer stockings, I think they make my legs look better. What do you think?" Mark answered truthfully, that he thought she had great legs, and he couldn't see how they would look bad in anything. "You should see them in seamed stockings though. I think they look far better than in anything else. I'd show you, but I have to do my toenails tonight, and I'm too tired to start pulling stockings on and off my legs, even to impress a good looking man." Mark towelled her feet dry as she continued, "I hate doing my toenails; it's so uncomfortable bending over." She was silent a moment, then smiling at Mark she coaxed him with, "I don?t suppose you'd do them for me would you?" Mark opened his mouth to respond but she added quickly, "Only if you don't mind of course." They both knew he'd be thrilled beyond belief to do her toenails for her, but before he could respond, Tricia was out of the room, returning almost immediately with several bottles of nail varnish. "I'll even let you decide which colour to use, I'm very conservative about such things, and maybe you'll give me a man's view." Thrilled about being considered a man by this wonderful lady. Mark studied the different colours, deciding on a deep shade of purple. He unscrewed the cap, and carefully began to apply it. "See what I mean, I would never have chosen that colour, but I'm sure you know what will suit me." As she spoke, Tricia removed the pink varnish from her fingernails. "When you've finished the first coat, you can do my fingers so they match. You don't mind do you?" Again she asked, Mark knew that even if he did mind he would never have had the courage to refuse, his mother had bullied him so often that just the thought of offending a female terrified him. After three coats, Tricia declared the job done. Mark was a little disappointed when he had to move away from her feet, where he would gladly have sat for the rest of his stay. Once the polish had dried, Tricia held her hands out to inspect the work. "I can't decide whether I like it or not. I think I'm too close to it. I know, give me your hand." Mark obeyed instantly, glad of the excuse to be near Tricia. But then, only his mother's training stopped him from snatching his hand away as he realised Tricia's intention. She felt the twitch in his hand and smiled at him. "Don't worry, it will come off easily, I just want to see what it looks like from a distance, by the way, you have lovely hands Mark." Buoyed by the compliment, Mark relaxed and even began to enjoy the attention as Tricia painted his nails using the same colour he'd used on her minutes earlier. When she'd finished, he almost wished he could leave the varnish on, there was something quite sensual about seeing his nails coloured, and he was pleased with the effect the purple colour gave. "Now your toes." Tricia said as she slipped his shoes and socks off. He was relieved he'd had a shower before he left the house. The idea of this adorable woman having to handle his dirty feet horrified him. "There, all finished walk over there so I can see how it looks. I think you were right about the colour Mark, it looks good from here. The big problem is, I don't know what make up will match this colour and I haven't time to... wait a minute, are you in a hurry Mark?" He shook his head no, admitting that he probably wouldn't be missed if he stayed out all night. "I don't think I'll keep you that long, but I could use your help for a while longer. I'll make you dinner later if you like." He jumped at the chance and soon found himself sitting at Tricia's dressing table. He watched as she selected and rejected different coloured eye shadows, lipsticks etc, blissfully unaware that she intended to try them out on him. When she finally decided on the colouring, she took some cream and began cleaning his face. It was only then that he understood her intention, at which point he would have stopped her, had he had the courage. But his mother's conditioning made that impossible. After applying the foundation and blusher to his cheeks. Tricia settled on red and green eye shadow, a brown pencil darkened his pale eyebrows and deep red lipstick covered his lips, outlined by a thin black line. She fitted a wig on his head, similar in colour to her own hair, admitting there were times when her hair was a mess, and she didn't always have time to fix it, so she used the wig. As she worked on him, Mark's mind wandered back to a few years earlier when Rowena had made him up, and he could actually feel himself becoming aroused as he relived the memories. But that was years ago, and they were his sisters, there had been no hint of anything sexual. Unlike the lady sitting next to him now, she simply oozed sensuality and he could feel himself becoming more and more aroused. When she finished and permitted him to look in the mirror for the first time, he thought he would burst with the joy he felt as he saw his reflection. A truly lovely face, made up as only someone with years of skill and experience could, stared back at him. "Come on, we'll go and prepare dinner so I can get used to how it looks. You know something, you have a beautiful face, it's such a pity it's wasted on a man." Tricia walked away, and once again, Mark felt the overpowering thrill of being called beautiful. He felt a little confused as he followed Tricia into the kitchen. He knew he wasn't gay, the thought of making love to a man disgusted him. And he also knew how much his fantasies involved women. But at the same time, he couldn't understand how he could feel so good in make up. He dearly wanted to ask Tricia, but he was worried she might think he was a pervert or something so he kept quiet. It took about 20 minutes for Tricia, with a little help from Mark, to prepare a casserole. By the time it was finished, Mark was actually quite comfortable with his made up face and nails. He felt relaxed as they chatted about the food and Tricia's job, among many other topics. "There, we just leave that in the oven for an hour or so, and then we can eat. As I remember it, I promised to show you how good my legs looked in stockings." Mark felt suddenly nervous again, and stood still as Tricia walked past him. "Well come on, I don't usually need to give men two invitations to my bedroom." Tricia undressed quite unselfconsciously and was soon wearing only a black lace bra. Then she fastened a black suspender belt round her waist, and pulled a pair of black seamed stockings over her legs. Mark was speechless as he stared at her. He'd never seen a woman wearing nothing but stockings and a bra before, not even his mother. It was the most exciting thing he'd ever witnessed. Tricia pulled a matching pair of panties over her legs, then slipped her feet into open toed high heels and paraded up and down the bedroom. "What do you think, do I have good legs or what?" "They're incredible," Mark replied staring at her legs. "You have no idea how good it feels to slide the sheer silk over your legs, it's almost as good as sex." Then as if suddenly making a decision she added, "Take your clothes off." Mark was shocked back to reality. "Don't worry, I'm not going to molest you, not yet anyway," She grinned, "I just want to share something with you." Mark slowly removed his clothes. He prayed she wouldn't ask him to remove his underwear, and hoped against hope she wouldn't notice the bulge in the front of his shorts. "All of them, don't worry, I saw the state you were in ages ago, It's quite a compliment." Mark was starting to think she could read his mind. Was he so transparent? Tricia examined his body and legs closely. "Good, there's hardly any hair at all, now I think we'll start with these." She opened a packet of stockings similar to the ones she was wearing. For the first time Mark finally became fully aware of her intentions, but his ingrained sense of obedience, combined with a driving curiosity and unprecedented arousal, made it impossible for him to refuse. He was soon dressed in a pale pink suspender, black seamed stockings, pink silk panties and matching bra, which Tricia stuffed with tissues to give him some breasts. She then produced a black skirt made out of some sort of stretch material, which meant that, with a little pulling and tucking she was soon able to pull it up to his waist, it hugged his lower body snugly and showed plenty of leg. A black, sequined top with long sleeves finished off the ensemble. Then came the problem of shoes. Tricia settled for a pair of backless medium heels, luckily they had ankle straps, which kept them on Marks feet, as he was a size or so bigger than she was. Luckily he had narrow feet so they slid into the shoe easily. He had a little difficulty walking, but before long, he was managing without stumbling with every step. Tricia dressed in a similar style, and then the two went into the lounge room and had a drink. "Well Mark, how do you feel? I must say, you look fantastic. When I first saw you, I had no idea you'd come out this well, or I would have met you sooner." "I'm sorry, I don't understand, how could you have..." "I think I'd better come clean. But first, I can't keep calling you Mark, not when you look like that. Why don't I call you Maria?" Assuming his silence to be acceptance, Tricia continued. "Anyway Maria, I first saw you about two weeks ago, and I've been planning this, ermm, transformation ever since." "You see, I'm a little kinky, I only get really turned on when I screw men dressed as women. I used to pick them up in gay bars, but more often than not, they weren't interested in women, and anyway, there are too many dangerous diseases in those sort of places. So I decided to make my own partners. You're my third attempt, and believe me, the others were total failures by comparison. Anyway, dinner should be ready now." Tricia went into the kitchen, leaving Mark/Maria to stare, open mouthed, after her and try to comprehend what she'd just told him. He trailed slowly behind her still trying hard to come to terms with what had happened to him in the last few hours. Then suddenly, every muscle in his body froze as the doorbell rung. He wanted to run into the bedroom, but he was too terrified to move. "It's okay, I'll get it." Tricia walked by him to the door, in the same instant, his body finally agreed to his request and he fled into the bedroom. He tried to listen at the door, but could only catch the occasional word. 'Get him...perfect...easy once I'd persuaded...don't think.' A few minutes later, he heard the front door slam, then Tricia walked into the bedroom laughing. "I didn't think you'd ever be able to move that quickly in those heels, it's amazing what you can do when you have to. Anyway, I don't know what you were worried about; no one who hadn't met you would ever be able to tell that you weren't a lovely girl. Now come on Maria, let's eat. Or am I going to have to give you a spanking for not behaving?" "You wouldn't." Mark/Maria gasped visions of his mother flashing before his eyes. "Believe me I would, and no doubt will regularly once you move in, but for now, I'd rather not bother, so come on." It was all moving too fast for him, 2 hours ago he was Mark, a quiet misunderstood, mistreated boy who helped a lady in distress. Now he was Maria, to all outward appearances, an attractive young lady who has just been told she is moving in with a beautiful woman 15 or more years her senior, and will be spanked for misbehaving. Mark was suddenly furious, he stormed into the lounge room demanding to know what she meant. Half way across the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh Tricia, he's perfect, I knew he'd be good, but not this good. If I didn't know different, I'd swear it was a girl." Looking back at Mark, she smiled and said, "I understand your name is Maria. I'm pleased to meet you Maria." The new arrival held out her hand to be shaken. Maria took it gently in his and replied, "Hello Auntie Joan!" He gratefully accepted the offer to sit beside Joan on the sofa. By that time his legs were shaking so badly, he was certain they were about to fail him and he would come toppling from the dizzy heights of his two- inch heels. Aunt Joan laughed and shook her head before leaning over and kissing Maria on the cheek. "Maria my sweet, you have a lot to learn about being a lady, you may look good when you're standing, but I can assure you a lady doesn't spread her knees like that when she's sitting." Maria blushed even deeper than he already had been, and quickly crossed his legs trying hard to emulate his aunt's position. "That's much better, now all you have to do is relax." Aunt Joan smiled warmly and as always it was infectious and within seconds Maria was smiling back at her with the result that he relaxed noticeably. Tricia, who had been in the kitchen checking on their meal, returned to the room and sat down opposite them. She acted as though she had known them both for years, which in Joan's case was true. They chatted like the old friends they were, including Maria in the conversation whenever possible, and before long he was completely at ease, laughing and joking as he always did with his aunt. Over dinner he asked how the two ladies came to know each other. "Well actually, Joan's my boss." Tricia replied. Joan laughed, "Well I wouldn't go quite that far, let's just say that Tricia does some work for my company occasionally." "Oh come on Joan, you know damned well I couldn't stay in business if I didn't get so much work from you." "Possibly, but you're more than capable of setting up on your own if I wasn?t around." "Maybe, but I'd rather not try thanks all the same." Maria had never really been sure what it was Aunt Joan did for a living, he knew she owned a company and spent a great deal of time at functions. She also seemed able to get tickets for any show in town at an hour's notice, so he asked her what it was she did. "You mean you don't know?" Tricia asked in amazement, "Your aunt, my dear, only runs the number one PR Company in town, in fact, you name them and if she doesn't already do all their PR, she will as soon as they can persuade her." Joan laughed, "I think you're exaggerating slightly Tricia." Tricia grinned, "Well maybe just a little, let's just say she's the best and leave it at that." "Why thank you Tricia, now why don't we take our coffee into the other room, and change the subject while my head is still small enough to fit through the door." They returned to the lounge room with their coffees and as they settled down, Maria turned to Joan and asked, "What made you think I'd accept being dressed as a female Aunt Joan?" Joan smiled at her young nephew, "I?ve known for several years now dear, ever since the time you stole a pair of my knickers. By the way, I was very flattered when your mother told me what you'd been doing with them." Not for the first time that day Maria turned a bright red colour and looked down at his feet to hide his embarrassment, but to no avail, Joan patted him on the knee and laughed in delight. As the evening wore on, it occurred to Maria that he would soon have to revert to the Mark persona and return home. He said as much to Joan and she glanced across at Tricia, who nodded. "That won't be necessary Maria, you'll be staying here from now on, if that's all right with you of course." Maria could hardly contain his excitement, "Alright? Are you serious, of course it's alright, in fact, it's wonderful, but how ... I mean, what will ... ." Joan held her hand up for silence. "I'll simply tell your mother I found you a live in job out of town. I'm sorry to tell you this Maria, but I'm afraid she'll be glad to see the back of you, I hope that doesn't hurt you too much?" He admitted it did slightly but that he'd really known all along that he wasn't exactly welcome at home. "Well I assure you, you will be here." Tricia said, "For as long as you like." To which Joan added, "And if you ever get tired of each other, you can always move in with me, so that's settled." It was a couple of hours later when Joan finally bid them goodnight, and left them alone. "We'd better get you settled in your new room." Tricia said as she led him through to the spare room. "It's not much right now, but once you settle in I'm sure you can make it much more ... homely. I'll get you one of my nightdresses for now, and maybe tomorrow we can go out and buy you some of your own clothes." Maria's expression changed from one of delight to one of fear. "Okay," Tricia conceded, "Bad idea, maybe you're not quite ready for your first public appearance just yet. Tell you what, I'll take some measurements and go and buy a few things for you to be going on with until you get a little more confident. How's that?" Maria agreed gratefully, and watched as Tricia left the room closing the door behind her. It was like a dream, Maria would never have guessed he would feel so good wearing women's clothing, but the truth was, he really didn't want to take them off, and, had it not been for the great looking negligee Tricia had loaned him, he probably wouldn't have. He finally decided to remove the outer garments but leave the underwear on, and even though he knew he should remove his make up, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. It was as if he was about to deface a work of art when he raised the moist tissue to his face, and he just couldn't do it. So he slipped the lacy nightdress over his head and slid between the satin sheets, where he luxuriated for some half an hour before finally dozing off. Over the next few weeks, Tricia put Maria through an intense training schedule as he learned the finer points of looking like a woman. He was taught the art of make up, manicure and pedicure, hair styling, hair removal, (not one of his favourite lessons) tasteful dressing and colour co-ordination, deportment with particular emphasis on walking in heels, and most importantly, feminine mannerisms, which he found was the hardest of all. Joan visited a few times, just to see how he was getting on, but mostly it was just Maria and Tricia. It was exactly three weeks later that Tricia entered his room carrying a breakfast tray, and as Maria sat there eating toast Tricia made an announcement. "I want you to take particular care with your make up and clothing choice today Maria." Misunderstanding her Maria smiled, I always do, and thanks to you I'm getting quite expert at it ... I am aren't I?" Tricia patted him on the leg reassuringly, "Yes dear, of course you are, that's why I've decided we're going shopping today." Maria almost choked on his toast, "TODAY, but I'm not ready ... I mean I can't, what if someone recognizes me or ... ." "Relax sweetheart, I wouldn't suggest going out unless I was sure you were ready, and believe me, you'll never be more ready. You have to face the big wide world sometime, and besides, I promised Joan we'd meet her for lunch. Now, finish your breakfast and I'll run a nice perfumed bath for you and you can soak away your doubts." Maria stared at Tricia as she walked out of the room, he'd always known this day would come, and had been dreading it. Placing the tray on his bedside table, he slowly climbed out of bed and walked over to the dressing table, where he sat down in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. His eyebrows were plucked and shaped, his hair, while showing the signs of a nights sleep, was reasonably feminine having recently been cut in a page boy style. Even his fingernails were now long and shapely enough to convince anyone of his complete femininity. Tricia was right, he was as ready as he would ever be, but that didn't stop the feeling that his breakfast was about to return any second. He entered the bathroom and immediately stepped into the hot bath, and as Tricia had predicted, it seemed to soothe away all his misgivings. By the time he climbed out of the bath his skin was beginning to prune. He now felt completely relaxed and as he towelled himself dry and sprinkled talc over his smooth, hairless body, he thought how good it would be to see Aunt Joan again. He had so much to tell her and it seemed like weeks since he'd seen her last. He entered his bedroom and began selecting and rejecting outfits for his outing, eventually deciding on the predictable black skirt and blouse, black stockings, (Tricia didn't permit tights) open toed black patent shoes with 2 inch heels. He considered higher but decided not to take the risk of falling on his first day out. Next came the make up, he had a moment of panic as he saw a slight chip on one of his fingernails, so naturally he had to completely wipe and re-polish them all, toes as well just for good measure. Between coats, he applied foundation and blusher to his face, and then he coloured his eyelids using a mixture of red and brown in a subtle but effective way Tricia had shown him. He thickened his lashes, touched up his eyebrows and outlined his lips with pencil before using a deep red lipstick, which coincidentally matched his nail polish. Then after brushing his hair, he dressed in a matching black silk bra and panties. He filled the bra with some pads Tricia had given him, which gave him a nice rounded figure and were quite lifelike in appearance. A black lace suspender belt held up his stockings and then he pulled on his skirt, blouse and shoes, gave his hair one more quick flick with the brush, and headed for the lounge room where Tricia was waiting for him. "About time, I didn't think you were ever coming ... . Well, well, you do look good, turn around ... oh yes, I like that, you really are a very lovely young lady." Tricia smiled and kissed Maria on the cheek. Maria couldn't help grinning with pride at her reaction and was almost skipping as they walked toward the door, but the second he stepped into the street, he felt a wave of terror come over him. Had it not been for the fact that Tricia was between him and the door, he would definitely have run back into the house, as it was, he was forced to walk toward the car, which he did as quickly as possible, eager to get in before anyone saw him. As he stood waiting impatiently for Tricia to open the car door, Maria saw an elderly couple approaching. He grabbed the car door and tried desperately to rip it open, but to no avail. As they came closer, he wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go, so he just stood there, frozen to the spot. "Good morning, lovely morning isn't it?" The lady said as they passed. Maria realised she was speaking to him, "Ermm, yes, lovely." He replied in his tutored female voice. As they moved away Maria heard the woman say, "What a pretty young lady father." "Yes, I wish I was fifty years younger, I'd show the young men a thing or two about courting these girls." "Oh go on, you silly old man, you wouldn't know ... " Despite straining his ears, that was all Maria could hear, but it was more than enough to tell him he'd passed the first test with flying colours, and he climbed into the car with a big grin covering his face. "What's so funny?" Tricia asked. "Oh nothing." Maria replied. After parking the car, the two made their way through the shopping centre toward the caf? where Maria always met Joan, the only difference being, Maria had never actually met Joan, it had always been Mark. Although his confidence had been boosted with every step through the centre, and even more so when a couple of young guys made some suggestive comments as he passed, he was still very nervous about sitting at the table he'd always used. Mainly because he was certain the waitress at least would recognize him. Much to his relief it appeared his fears were groundless. The girl came over and took their orders smiling pleasantly as she saw Joan's familiar face, but showing no sign of recognition when she turned to Maria to take his order. This was the final confirmation as far as he was concerned, he was completely confident no one would be aware of his secret, and he relaxed completely. They spent a pleasant hour as Maria regaled Joan with stories of how he'd learned to become a woman, in many cases from his mistakes. Then they all decided to go shopping together, as they started to leave, the waitress came over to collect the bill and as she passed Maria, she pressed a card into his hand, "I like the new look, call me sometime, by the way, my name's Lara." She whispered, then continued clearing the dishes from the table. Maria was stunned, Tricia and Joan knew nothing of the exchange and were now several paces away engaged in conversation about which shop to visit first. Turning to Lara Maria tried to ask her how she knew, when she turned and smiled. "Don't worry, no one else will be able to tell, I only knew when I heard you call the lady Auntie Joan. The only other person to do that was the good looking guy I'd seen most Saturdays. I was disappointed when he didn't show for a few weeks, then when I saw the lady I expected to see him again, but you came instead, I watched and put two and two together, simple." She started to walk away then turned and added, "I meant what I said, I really like the new look, call me." And she was gone. When Maria caught up with the other two he was himself again, Tricia looked at him suspiciously and asked, "What were you doing?" "Nothing, I just wanted to give the waitress a tip that's all." Tricia seemed unconvinced but said no more as they began their shopping expedition. They bought clothes, underwear, shoes and make up, almost all of it for Maria, and all paid for by his Aunt, who, when he asked how he could possibly repay her, assured him that just seeing him happy was payment enough for her. Even though she participated in the shopping spree, Maria couldn't help but feel that there was a subtle change in Tricia's attitude toward him, but she dismissed his queries without comment. All the way home in the car there was a definite atmosphere, and Tricia did little more than grunt whenever Maria attempted to make conversation. Dropping all the parcels in his bedroom, Maria returned to the lounge room where Tricia was sitting reading a magazine. "Can I make you a coffee?" Maria asked. "No thank you." Tricia responded coldly. Maria sat next to Tricia on the sofa and asked, "Come on Tricia, something's wrong, now what is it?" Tricia threw the magazine onto the coffee table, startling Maria as she swung round to face him and snapped, "Wrong, why would anything be wrong, after all, I've only dedicated myself to transforming you into the perfect lady over the last few weeks, not to mention the cost involved. And what do I get in return, the very first time you go out, I find out you're nothing more than a slut throwing yourself at the first available female. Well if you want to act like a slut, you'll be treated like one, believe me young lady, things are going to change dramatically around here ... " "But I don't understand, what ... " "Don't interrupt." Tricia almost screamed she was so angry. "If this is the way you show your gratitude, then I think it's time I found some suitable employment for you, I see no reason why I should bear all the costs of turning you into a tart ... " "Please Tricia, what are you talking about?" "You know very well what I'm talking about, do you really think I didn't see the way you flirted with that waitress, and I suppose you didn't stay back and make a date with her after we left the cafe?" "But I didn't, she was the one ... " Maria was stunned into silence as Tricia slapped him hard across the face. "LIAR, I saw you flirting with her, so don't insult my intelligence by denying it. Now get the hell out of my sight." She raised her hand to slap the sobbing Maria once again, but years of evading his mother's slaps brought Maria's reflexes into play, and he ran quickly into his room and threw himself on his bed where he lay sobbing into his pillow. A couple of hours later, Maria left his room briefly to use the bathroom, then he returned, stripped of his clothing and slid between the sheets where, still sobbing, he eventually drifted off to sleep. Tricia, shaking him roughly awakened him in the morning. "Come on, get up and get me some breakfast, then after you've done the dishes you can take a quick shower and get ready to go out. But don't bother tarting yourself up, there won't be any waitresses for you to flirt with this time." An hour later they were both climbing into Tricia's car and heading off to the outer suburbs. After around thirty minutes driving, Maria whispered, "Can I ask where we're going?" "Certainly," Tricia replied coldly, "Since you seem to have decided to act like a slut, I've decided to make you look the part so I'm taking you to get a pair of tits." It took several seconds for Maria to comprehend the full meaning of what Tricia had just said, and when he did he was horrified. "You wouldn't, surely you don't mean you're going to ... " "I most certainly would, and yes, you're getting a pair of implants. After all, what self- respecting slut goes around with falsies? Once I get you the real thing you can really get into the part. Tears welled in Maria's eyes, but he knew any argument would be futile. He doubted implants were something you just went out and bought, so he had the briefest glimmer of hope that Tricia would change her mind before the actual operation took place. Not long afterwards, Tricia pulled the car into a lane way and parked. Then taking Maria by the hand, she almost dragged him into the back door of, what looked like a large suburban house. Inside was a long corridor with several rooms leading off it, and Tricia finally stopped at one, knocked briefly and entered pulling Maria behind her. Once inside, Tricia pointed to a chair silently ordering Maria to sit, which he did. "Wait here." She ordered then went through another door at the side of the room. Maria had to wait for several minutes before a middle-aged woman wearing a nurse's uniform came into the room. Glancing briefly at Maria she said, "Come this way." Then she led the way back into the corridor and into another room containing a bed and bedside table and nothing else. Handing Maria a white gown she said, "Put this on and get into the bed, the doctor will be in shortly to examine you." Then she left before Maria had a chance to respond. It was at least 15 minutes later that the doctor came in. Oddly enough, Maria found it difficult to tell her apart from the nurse, in fact at first, he thought it was the nurse returning. For the next half hour Maria was given a thorough examination, eyes, ears, throat, heart, chest and several other places which, until that moment had been Maria's sole domain. The doctor's bedside manner left a lot to be desired, but thankfully, to Maria's relief, she finally declared him healthy and pressed a button at the top of the bed. The nurse appeared almost instantly, carrying a tray covered by a white cloth. After placing it on the bedside table, she removed the cloth and picked up a syringe, which she filled from a vial on the tray. Before he had time to protest, the nurse had found a vein in his arm, rubbed it with alcohol and injected him. Within seconds the room began to spin and Maria knew no more. When next he opened his eyes, it was to see the nurse taking his pulse. She flashed him a false smile and announced in a loud voice, "Doctor, she's awake." The doctor entered the room and placed a hand on Maria's forehead. "How do you feel young lady?" Even though his throat was extremely dry, Maria managed to croak, "Okay, but my chest feels a little tight." It was only then that he realised what had happened, slowly, almost afraid of what he would see, Maria lowered his glance toward his feet, but to his horror, he couldn't see them because of two huge mounds of flesh covering his chest. "NOOOO." He screamed. He was silenced by a swift and totally unprofessional slap across the face from the nurse. The doctor, seeming to ignore the whole scene, continued her examination. Lifting the bedclothes away, she prodded and cupped the breasts in her hands. Maria, unable to take his eyes from the enormous breasts, watched in silence as the doctor removed the tape covering the nipples and the two small strips below the breasts, as she checked her work. Then nodding her satisfaction she instructed the nurse to apply fresh dressings and left the room. Once again that night, Maria cried him self to sleep. He couldn't believe that Tricia would allow something as grotesque as this to happen to him. He'd had no illusions about her feelings toward him, he knew she wasn't exactly in love with him, but he never suspected she held him in such low esteem she would have something like this done to him. He was made to stay at the 'clinic' for almost a week until his scars had healed completely. He learned that not only had the doctor given him implants; she'd also enlarged his nipples and somehow made them much more sensitive. Florence, the nurse, had informed him that, far from being huge, his breasts were in fact only 34c. As if to prove her statement, she'd handed him a bra in that size ordering him to put it on since he was going to have to get used to wearing one. One week later to the day after Maria had first arrived at the clinic the doctor came in and gave him a final check up, after which Maria was informed he would be going home that day and he should get dressed at once. An hour later Tricia walked into the room, and after the briefest glance at Maria's breasts she said, "Let's go." And walked out of the room and down the corridor to the rear entrance they'd used, what seemed to Maria to be, an eternity ago. The atmosphere in the car on the trip home was dreadful. Tricia had obviously not forgiven Maria for what she wrongly assumed to be his unfaithfulness. Maria, on the other hand, was still coming to terms with his new body and was still stunned whenever he looked down toward his feet. When they arrived home, Tricia ordered Maria into his bedroom to change and get ready. Since Maria had not had the luxury of make up at the clinic, he was grateful for the opportunity to use some now. Tricia walked into the room just as Maria was adding the finishing touches to his face, having already painted his nails and brushed and styled his hair. "Stand up." When Maria obeyed, Tricia passed a black lace corset around his waist and began lacing it up. It reached from the top of his hips to just below his breasts. Once Tricia had laced it up, a little too tightly in Maria's opinion, there was no need for Maria to wear a bra, since the corset had half cups, which supported his breasts more than adequately. Because Maria was unused to the restriction, Tricia had to help him to put on the black stockings and panties, which were laid out on the bed. His feet were squeezed into black vinyl shoes with 4" heels, and a black satin dress was pulled over his head. Although it was tight, Tricia eventually succeeded in fastening the dress at the back. As she did so Maria was able to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The dress was cut very low and displayed his impressive cleavage to its fullest. In addition it was far too short and the slightest movement exposed his stocking tops. As he continued to examine his reflection, Tricia passed a small white apron around his waist, and for the first time, he grasped the significance of the outfit, sighing in resignation as Tricia added the final accessory, a small white hat which completed his transformation into a maid. "In case you're wondering, I'm having guests tonight, and you are going to serve them. I expect you to provide them with anything they request, and I do mean anything, I give you fair warning, if you fail to please my guests in any way, you'll regret it for as long as you live. Is that clear?" She demanded. "Yes Tricia." Maria whispered. "And that reminds me, from now on you'll address me, and my guests as Mistress or Master, got that?" Maria was close to crying as he nodded his head in response. "I didn't hear you." "Yes Mistress." He whispered. "Good, now I'm going to get dressed, while you're waiting for the guests to arrive, you can set the table for seven people. If I'm not ready when they arrive, show them into the lounge room and give them drinks. Have you got that?" "Yes ... Mistress." He added. Tricia frowned slightly, then walked out of the room. That night was one of the worst Maria had ever experienced in his short life. As ordered, he admitted the guests and gave them drinks. Then when they were all seated at the dinner table he served them their food. As the night wore on and the wine began to take its toll, the guests became more adventurous. Maria's first 'surprise' came from a man in his mid to late fifties. As Maria reached over to top up his glass, he reached under his skirt and slid his hand up Maria's leg cupping his arse cheek in his hand. Maria was about to turn on him when he saw Tricia glaring at him from across the table, and he froze on the spot, fighting to hide his disgust as the fat slob of a man mauled him. The other guests seemed to take this as a cue to do anything they wished. And from then on Maria was subjected to all manner of poking and squeezing, not only from the men, but the women also. In fact, as the night went on the women became worse than the men, they were particularly interested in his breasts, and at one point he thought he was going to be made to strip so they could be examined more closely. But for some reason, Tricia stopped this from happening, it wasn't until the guests had all gone that Maria found out why. "I'm very pleased with the way you performed this evening Maria, in fact I already have 2 bookings for your services." Maria was in the middle of clearing the table and he almost dropped the dishes he was holding as he asked the question to which he already knew the answer. "Bookings? What do you mean, bookings?" "Why for your services of course, believe it or not, they're willing to pay one thousand dollars a night for you, obviously they'll expect more than just waitress duties, but I'm sure you won't disappoint them." Maria was shaking so badly he had to put the dishes down quickly before he dropped them. Then he spun round on shaking legs and demanded, "You don't really expect me to go round to the houses of those filthy disgusting people and have some sort of sex with them do you?" Tricia leapt to her feet and in two paces she was standing in front of Maria gripping both his upper arms tightly. "I expect you to do any fucking thing I tell you to do, whether that's to serve a drink, or go down on someone. Whether it's making a sandwich or being fucked up the arse, you'll do exactly as you're told, IS THAT FUCKING CLEAR?" With the last sentence Tricia shook Maria violently causing him to stagger backwards and, had the table not been there to save him he would certainly have fallen. As the tears began to stream from his eyes, Tricia glared at him, "Stop that or I'll really give you something to cry about. Now finish cleaning up and then get to bed, I expect you to bring me breakfast in bed at seven in the morning, and you'd better be in full uniform or there'll be trouble. Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it." Maria sobbed quietly to himself as he cleared the table and then cleaned the kitchen. It was two thirty before he finally climbed into bed; he didn't have the energy to remove his make up and, after setting his alarm for five thirty, cried himself to sleep. The next few days were absolutely miserable for Maria. Tricia seemed to be going out of her way to prove the adage, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', Maria's waking hours were horrendous. When he wasn't cleaning, Tricia was preparing him for his upcoming debut as a French Maid. She spent hours describing in detail, the sort of sex acts she expected Maria to have to provide, and took pleasure in watching the tears flow down Maria's face. Maria spent most of his free time, not that he had much, under the shower trying to somehow wash away the feeling of disgust he felt when he remembered the pigs at the dinner party and the way they'd pawed him. And several times he threw up when he imagined what he would be forced to do on Saturday night. Then all too soon, the fateful night arrived. Tricia inspected Maria's outfit ensuring he was as appealing as possible. Then, declaring him ready, she took him out to the car and drove him round to the Watersons' house. As Maria had been warned, the Watersons were the particularly repulsive couple who had seemingly enjoyed watching everyone else maul him. Apparently they got their vicarious pleasures that way and as Tricia said, they would probably invite several of their friends and watch as they pleasured themselves at his expense. Tricia dropped him at the door promising the Watersons she would collect him first thing in the morning. Maria was then taken into the house, like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. Nothing much happened at the beginning of the night, it was pretty much as Tricia had said, the Watersons were voyeurs so Maria spent the first hour answering the door and serving drinks. When the hosts decided everyone who was coming had arrived, Maria was instructed to serve the food. As he carried in the first tray, the doorbell rang. "It's okay Maria, I'll get it, you carry on serving." Mrs. Waterson called from the hallway. Then one of the more disgusting guests suggested Maria remove his dress so they could get a better look at his tits. "Come here darling, let's have a feel at those things." Someone else ordered. Maria walked slowly round to obey the guest, her vision blurring from the tears as she leaned forward to allow the requested feel. "Lay one finger on him and I'll cut your fucking arm off." The room was in total confusion. "Who the fuck are ... Oh Joan it's you." Sydney Waterson remarked, "Better late than never I suppose, but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait your turn with the maid, Bill here asked first." Bill grinned and continued to reach for Maria's breast, then suddenly pulled his arm back with a yell as blood seeped through the cut in his shirtsleeve. Joan stood over him holding the bloodstained carving knife she'd just picked up from the table. "I?M BLEEDING," He howled, "That Bitch cut me." "I did warn you, now, anyone else care to cop a feel?" She waited for a few seconds; the room was silent except of course for the whimpering from Bill. Then gently taking Maria's hand in hers she said, "Come on sweetheart, let's go home." And dropping the knife on the floor, she led the stunned Maria from the house. THREE MONTHS LATER. Maria smiled as Joan and Lara argued over whether or not he would be allowed to wear a white gown to their wedding. Joan was a firm believer that only a virgin could wear white, whereas Lara, while agreeing in principal, pointed out that, since Maria was technically the groom, and the whole white dress thing applied to the bride, it was quite within the bounds of propriety for him to wear white. The wedding was in four weeks and the two had done nothing but argue ever since Lara and Maria