The Two Denny's free porn video

THE TWO DENNY'S By Bea Her name was Denise, mine was Dennis. She was called 'Denny', I got 'Dennis'. We were almost exactly the same size, the same coloring - but there the resemblance ended. She was athletic, slim, graceful, self assured. I was skinny, shy (especially around her) and anything but athletic. I was, and am, probably brainier than her - but she uses every gray cell God ever gave her, while I fumble and fart around, looking for every side of every question, and have a tendency to get led, rather than guide the way. I was crazy about her. This feeling was not reciprocated. To this day, I don't like to admit that I knew her true sexual preferences, but she has always seemed to like the company of women better than that of men. Now that that's written, I guess that we're alike in that respect as well - I've always liked women better than men as well. I won't go into a mass of details. I met her in my senior year at college - she was a junior. I was majoring in finance and economics, she was concentrating (if that's the right term) on sports medicine. I was totally enthralled by her, and started being a 'hanger on' with her crowd. As I just said, she liked the company of women, but would tolerate me, as long as I didn't 'make a pest of myself'. Accordingly, I was often the single male in her entire entourage. It was somewhat embarrassing at times as I fit in with neither the 'guys' ? when they DID appear ? as my first tendency was to attach myself to them, but they seemed ill at ease around me so, without much ado, I gradually found myself lumped with the 'dolls'. In all honesty, a large part of my acceptance was probably because I was the only one with any money (orphaned, and left quite well-to-do by an accident some years before, and the resulting insurance money.) I had my own apartment, fairly close to the college. Denny lived with her mother on the outskirts of town, not too terribly far away from school. I think her family must have had money at one time, as her house is located in a pretty nice neighborhood, fairly nice grounds. Her mother is very like her, older of course, but very upright and self- confident in her bearing. Always dresses very well, but makes a lot of her own and Denny's clothes, and supports herself by dressmaking for a select clientele of friends, and occasionally, a new customer. She was pleasant enough to me every time I met her. I was even asked (by her) out to the house for dinner on a number of occasions. The meals were always enjoyable - spoiled maybe by Denny getting a little bossy, telling me to help her mother with the dishes and so on, but I didn't mind. As a matter of fact, I looked at the times with her mother in the kitchen as a chance for me to press my suit. As I said, I was nuts about Denny, and was single minded in pursuing the opportunity of marrying her. I figured that if I could get her mother on my side, I was that much further ahead. I remember one conversation. I'd mentioned my desire to marry Denny (again). Her mother (Marie) looked at me and shook her head. "Dennis" she said "She's my daughter, and I love her. But I have to say this. I don't think that she's overly .. eh .. interested in boys. Never has been. I know she likes you as a friend, but in 'that' way... well..?" "Mrs. Foster," I said sincerely. "I know all that. Honestly. I know and it doesn't matter! I love Denny. I want to be with her all the time. I want to marry her. Will you please help me?" She looked at me strangely, and shook her head a little. "But she bosses you around all the time - you wouldn't have much hope of changing that.." Then she looked at me shrewdly .."Or is that what you want?" "I don't know," I admitted. "All I know is that I want her to marry me." At this point, I sensed that Marie started to accept the fact that Denny could do a lot worse. I had some money, no family to raise problems, was educated - and had done reasonably well in my class standings and - most important of all, didn't seem to have any wrong ideas about Denny's predilection for girls. At least, with marriage, I was offering a veneer of respectability that might be difficult for her to obtain otherwise. "Let me think about it," she said, "but keep in mind that Denny has a mind of her own." She stood up suddenly. "Come here. I'll give you an idea of what I'm talking about." She took me down the hall to a bedroom and ushered me inside. I knew it wasn't Denny's and, when I saw the youthful way the room was decorated, I knew it wasn't Marie's either. Not that she isn't womanly, mind you - but the room was just too 'dainty' for her - too young. She saw my puzzlement, and laughed shortly. "I've had this room furnished and re-decorated on a regular basis," she said softly. She then went to the dresser and opened up a drawer to show it full of pastel-shaded lingerie. She walked to the closet and pulled one of the doors open to show a plethora of dresses hanging there. "For years," she continued. "I've kept hoping that Denny would be the daughter I always wanted .. One that would appreciate pretty clothes .. want a room like this - a girl's room.. feminine things.." She paused, and shook her head, before continuing. "I used to be able to coerce her into at least letting me fit her for dresses and pretty lingerie, always hoping that somehow .. some way .. some day.. she'd come around. You know, maybe just by close proximity to nice clothes, she might get interested.. " She looked wistfully at the dresses and lingerie displayed. "Would you believe that I made all of these clothes in here for her?" She obviously didn't expect a response, so I made none. She continued "About eighteen months ago she just refused to go along with me anymore, point blank. Took only stuff that she wanted to that dark room she's in now, and has made it pretty obvious that she'll leave home before ... before.. " She had tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," I said helplessly. "She does have a mind of her own." She shook her head a little, and smiled. "That she does. That she does. But, I guess, that's what I was trying to tell you. Obviously you don't need much education on that score." "I still want to marry her" I persisted. "Let me think about it," she replied. "I know I said that before, but you're bringing up a subject I'd thought was closed forever." She paused. "I'll repeat this one time. One time only. Denny likes girls. Denny will boss you around. Can you live with that?" "Marie.." I began. She held up her hand to stop me. "Yes or no," she said. "One word!" "Yes," I said simply. She nodded. "I'll see if I can do anything - but don't get your hopes up." She called me a week later. Her voice sounded tinny on the phone, but there was an undercurrent of excitement there that I couldn't miss. After the preliminary polite chatter was over, she got right to the point. "She just might go for it," she said. "I can't really believe it, but I think that - if I can press the right buttons, she might .. she might.." "Marry me!" I said excitedly. "Oh thank you. Thank you! How can I say thank you properly?" "Well.." she said. "I do have something you could do for me, if you could possibly see..." "Anything! Anything!" I promised. "Actually, it's two things," she murmured. "I don't care if it's a hundred! I said vehemently. "If you can help get Denny to marry me .." "Yes. Yes," she said, a smile in her voice. "Just two things. One: talk her into a white wedding - two: with me making the wedding dress and trousseau. Do you think you can do that?" "Is that all?" I laughed. "I thought you were going to ask something difficult! If it's within my power - and I don't see why not - it's a done deal!" "Well. I don't really expect miracles of you. But promise you'll try your hardest?" she asked. "Cross my heart - double!" I laughed. "Oh!" She said "I'm so happy! Did I hear Denny right? You two got a date tomorrow night?" "Yes," I replied. "Ask her then," she said. "Don't leave it too long. I'm pretty sure she'll accept your proposal if you don't give her too much time. Once she's said yes, she won't go back on her word - she's a real stickler for keeping promises.." "God! Do I know that!" I responded. "God help you if you break any promises around her. Hell on wheels is more like it." Marie laughed. "Well. Don't forget to call me as soon as you get the chance..." And the conversation gradually drew to a close. I bought a full carat diamond ring the next day, and made my pitch to Denny, over a romantic, candlelit - very expensive - meal that night. She looked on my proposal with more kindness than I would have thought possible. "The ring is beautiful Dennis," she said softly. "I'm not surprised at your proposal - mum's been nagging about it for days. But do you really know what you're getting into?" "I love you," I said sincerely. "Marry me!" She smiled tenderly. "You're not a bad guy .. As guys go ..But.." "Marry me!" I repeated. She shook her head resignedly. "O.K. I'll marry you. But none of the regular bullshit... O.K.?" "What bullshit?" I asked. "Oh. The white dress. The church ceremony ... All that bullshit. We'll go to Vegas next month, get married there... O.K.?" "O.K!" I answered happily. Her mother was devastated when I phoned and told her that Denny wouldn't even consider a white wedding. All the excitement went out of her voice. "I'd so wanted to make my daughter's wedding dress and trousseau.." She said softly ".. It meant so much to me." I felt sorry for her, but didn't really figure that it was that big a deal. At the same time, I didn't want to look too bad in front of her the next time we met, a few nights later. She'd made a special dinner just for the three of us. It was really great. I had a drink before dinner, then some wine with it, and a liqueur with my coffee - so I guess I wasn't feeling too much pain. Swirling my drink in the balloon glass, I nonchalantly leaned back in my chair, and proceeded to cut my own throat. "Denny!" I said thickly. "I really can't understand why you're so adamant about not having a white wedding." (Trying to impress my mother-in-law to be). A puzzled expression showed on Denny's face. "Adamant? Who in the hell is 'adamant'?" she queried. "If I remember correctly .. I mentioned that I didn't want the bullshit associated with a white wedding .. I think that's the only thing I said on the subject - and didn't you agree?" While I searched for an answer, Marie stiffened, then reddened, and turned to me quickly. "But you promised!" she said thickly. "You were going to do anything! You promised! It doesn't sound like you fought for what I wanted, not one little bit!" "What in the hell is this all about?" Denny said forcefully. "Something going on between you two that I know nothing about?" And the whole story came out. It was her turn to lean back in her chair. She looked at me coldly. "You promised mum that you'd do anything to get me to agree to having a white wedding. You crossed your heart 'double' that you'd try and talk me into letting her sew the dress and trousseau. Right?" I swallowed. "Right." "Seems to me," she continued, "your word doesn't mean a whole helluva lot." "Well. You said..." I protested. "Shut up!" she said softly. "I've got an idea. If you agree to it, and mum says she can do it, I'll still marry you.." I heard the implied threat that the wedding was off if I didn't agree. "Anything! Denny. Anything!" I pleaded. "Mum. Excuse us," she said. "Lovely dinner. But why don't you start in with the dishes. We'll be back in five or ten minutes and he can give you a hand then." She turned to me. "C'mon!" And I followed her to the same room that her mother had taken me before. She closed the door behind us. "Would you say," she started, pulling her shirt over her head, "that I'm into wearing feminine clothes?" I giggled placatingly. "Not to the best of my knowledge," watching, awestruck, as she pulled her pants down and stepped out of them. "So me putting on a lacy bra, matching panties, slips, and so on is kinda out of character?" she whispered. "Most definitely!" I agreed, as she pulled these garments out of the drawers, turned her back to me, then proceeded to divest herself of her normal, 'jockey' underwear, replacing it with the forementioned articles. Within minutes, she stood before me, resplendent in gorgeous light blue, matching lingerie. She looked fantastic - and I told her so. "Thanks." she said shortly. Then she rummaged in the drawers again, this time pulling out another set, this time an ivory colored set. "O.K." she said "Why don't you get these on?" "Eh?" I said. She gave me a peculiar smile. "You heard me. Undress, then put this lingerie on. Hurry up!" "I can't put that on, for goodness sake!" I retorted. "That's your underwear. Your mother made that for you to wear!" She grinned. "And now I want you to wear it!" Then she got serious again. "A few minutes ago, you said 'anything' - you'd do 'anything' if I'd marry you." She plucked at the lacy underthings she was wearing. "I'm as macho as you'll ever be. If I can wear them for a little while, I don't see why you can't. There again, if you won't?" - And she picked up her normal clothes, as if she was going to put them back on again, and it was obvious what she meant. "Oh Denny," I protested. "Why?" But I had already started to remove my tie. "You'll find out," she grinned. "Here. Let me give you a hand." Five minutes - less - I stood, quivering in total humiliation, dressed in bra, panties, garter belt, slip, stockings. She had taken some tissue from a box beside the table and padded the bra to the extent that I now had noticeable 'breasts'. She then handed me a transparent chiffon peignoir to put on. Once it was in place, she pulled the satin ties around my neck, and formed them into a bow. As I had been changing, she had put a similar peignoir on as well. "Let's go honey," she said, linking her arm in mine. "Just one more thing though, before we get back to mum. You still want to marry me?" "Yes," I admitted. "O.K. Then. From now on, you'll call Marie 'mummy'. Not mum, not Marie, not anything - just mummy. You'll call her that to her face. You'll call her that when you're talking about her to someone else - understand?" "Mummy?" I asked nervously. "But won't she mind? It sounds kinda childish." Denny laughed. "Shit no! She'll love it. But it's important. Don't forget!" She linked arms and led me back to the dining room. Her mother was just coming in from the kitchen. She stopped, puzzled at our appearance, but was obviously still mad at me. "What are you doing dressed in my daughter's clothes? Do you think it's funny?" "Denny wanted ..." I began. "Oh. Never mind!" she snapped. "I'm not in the mood for party games." "Mum!" Denny said sharply. "I never knew anything about your deal with him until now. I'm trying to salvage something out of it for you. If you want to listen, fine. If not, it's all off. What do you want to do?" Marie turned around. "He didn't keep his word." Denny replied softly. "I know mum. But I think he was scared of me. I did say that I didn't want a white wedding - he was probably just too frightened to argue." Marie's face softened a little, "Yes. But he promised he'd do everything possible.." Denny held up her hand. "And now he's going to get a chance to do just that. Dennis, take off your robe, and come stand beside me. Now! Please!" As I hastened to obey, she was removing her robe. "Now mum," she continued. "Go get your measuring tape. I have an idea." Her mother looked puzzled, but started looking in a drawer in the dining room. "Put one here just the other day.. Oh yes, here it is. Now what do you want me to do Denny?" "Measure both of us and compare, mother." "But that's silly!" Marie argued. "You may not be overly big in the breasts, but he's got .. none .. at.." "Strategically placed tissue?" Denny suggested, grinning. Marie smiled, wonderment dawning in her eyes. "It would never work .. Surely?" "Won't know until you measure, will you mum?" Denny replied. "What are you two talking about?" I asked plaintively, as Marie came and started wrapping the tape measure around various parts of my body, then moving immediately to Denny and taking the same measurements. She actually started humming to herself. Denny waited for a while, looking to see her mother's reaction. She smiled at me. "Now I'll explain sweets. See, I didn't want a white wedding because I knew that I would never be allowed to buy a dress. She'd.." pointing to her mother ".. be bent out of shape forever, if I didn't let her make the dress, and all the other crap that goes with it. Do you have any idea of the time that's involved?" "I guess not. Not really," I replied. "Believe me. It takes a lot of time. Next, to make it worse," she continued. "When customers - paying customers - come in, who do you think she takes care of first?" "What's that got to do with it? Would you please tell me what is going on?" I complained. "I'm trying to tell you that I don't particularly like the frilly, feminine clothes that mum likes to make for me. Not only that, but the goddam fittings take forever! It's bad enough when she doesn't have a lot of work going on, but if she has any customers come in, I go to the back of the line - and God help me if I have something planned. That's why I didn't want a white wedding." "You mean you've changed your mind?" I asked. "Maybe" "Please Denny! Yes or no?" She looked at her mother straightening up. "Yes or no mum?" Marie shook her head. "I can't believe the similarities in size. It just might work!" Denny turned to me. "Now let's see what your word is worth, or how much you want to marry me. Here's the deal. You're almost the exact same size as me. With a little padding, you'll be even closer. My idea is that you'll be the one coming to all the fitting sessions. Then, when the dress and trousseau are ready, I'll wear them for the ceremony. How does that sound?" "You're crazy," I yelled. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of! I can't be driving here every day! I've got a job to look for and other things to do!" I looked at her implacable face and quickly re- considered. "How long will all this take?" I asked carefully. Marie spoke up, smiling thoughtfully. "If you stayed here with us, it would be done in a lot less time .. But there's so much .. So much to do." That made things a lot better in my mind. At least I'd be seeing a lot more of Denny. "That sounds better," I said enthusiastically. "But where would I sleep?" "In that room I showed you last time," Marie said. I shuddered. By the looks of it, I was going to be spending at least a couple of days getting fitted for a wedding dress, while sleeping in the closest thing I'd ever seen to a ladies boudoir - but what the hell, at least I'd have Denny close by. "O.K." I said nervously, "When do you want me to start?" Before she could answer, Denny broke in. "I've got an even better idea. If you're going to come and stay here .. Why can't I go and stay at your place? I'd only be in the way here.. and.." she grinned, "you might not want me to see you parading around in nice lingerie and gowns.." Aghast, I stood speechless, but Marie answered for me. "That's a great idea! I don't think I'd feel too comfortable, with both of you sleeping in the same house before you were married." I started to panic. Things were getting out of hand. Not that my protests or arguments did much good. On the basis that her mother could start right away if I didn't change, Denny could then drive over to my apartment (in my car as she didn't have one of her own), bring me back some clothes, toothbrush, etc. I could then stay the night and be ready for 'work' first thing in the morning. Denny stayed long enough to see me getting my bra padded a little more, and to provide the necessary comparison. Then she left, after changing back to her everyday clothes. A hitch came up. Marie had me try on the high heel shoes in Denny's closet, of which there were only a couple of pairs but didn't fit too well for one thing and weren't the right heel height she wanted for another. Then she had an idea. What about hers? Turned out she had quite a few pair that fitted. She gave me three pair of high heeled shoes and three pair of shoes with much lower heels for 'my' closet. While she was making her choices, I remembered Denny's instructions on how I was to address my mother-in-law to be, and figured that I'd better try it out. "Mummy?" I started timorously. She turned around quickly. "What did you call me?" she said excitedly, her hand going to her heart. "Mummy," I repeated. "Do you mind if I call you that?" Frankly, I felt rather strange using that term for her. Up until then, all of the embarrassment had been caused by the clothes I had been coerced into wearing. But that wouldn't last too long, I thought - just enough time to get sized for a dress. Just calling her 'mummy' though, was an entirely different kettle of fish. For one thing, it looked like Denny wanted me to use it permanently. For another, it took the femininity of my position to an entirely new level. I felt like a little schoolgirl. She beamed. Her face literally lit up. "Did you think that out on your own, or did Denny ask you to do it?" I told her the truth and it clouded her face for a second, but she brightened up again. "No," she said, "I don't mind being called that at all. It was something I always wanted Denny to call me - but even as a little girl she wouldn't." She shook her head. "I love you to call me mummy. Please don't ever call me anything else." It looked as if the fences with 'mummy' had been mended, so I continued. "Why are you picking so many shoes for me? Don't you just need one pair?" "Well," she admitted, "just one pair for the wedding dress. But the trousseau will be something else, right?" Alarm spasmed through my mind. Christ! I'd forgotten about the trousseau! I managed a weak smile. "Oh. You'll want me for another dress or two?" She burst out laughing. "A dress or two? This'll be my only daughter's wedding - a dress or two!?" Panic was now paralyzing me. Nervously, I pulled at the lace trim on my slip. "But mummy. How long will this fitting stuff take?" She ruminated. "Well. I figure we can get maybe two or three out of all the dresses in your closet, shouldn't take too long to make any alterations needed. Then a going away suit. Maybe another two new nice frocks - and a sundress or two shouldn't take too long, then the dress itself, then .." she giggled, "..all the pretty lingerie." Her head came up. "And don't forget, I still have my regular customers.. Three, maybe four weeks should do it." I nearly fainted. Now I got the real force of Denny's objections. This woman was crazy! "I can't spend that kind of time," I chattered excitedly. "I've got to find a job. I'm getting married soon," I added with a touch of humor. "And I'll have a wife to support. And," I continued desperately, "we're supposed to get married in four weeks." "Yes, yes," she said, totally ignoring me. "Let me just check your hip measurement again." "But mummy!.." I started to protest. "Denise!" she said sharply. "Now just stop this silly nonsense. Take your peignoir off for a second, and let me measure your hips again!" As she spoke, she gave me a sharp slap on my bottom. And, obediently, my backside stinging a little from the light spank, I did as I was told. She proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes or so making more careful measurements, writing them down, and comparing them to others. "I won't need you for a little while," she finally said. "Why don't you put your peignoir back on, and go make us a pot of tea?" I thought of asking if I could change back to my own clothes, but a look at the clock told me that it was close enough to bed time that it would be silly to change then change again for bed. Denny seemed to be taking longer than she should. I boiled the water, then made the tea. I foraged around, found some cookies, set the table up with cups, cream, sugar, and so on, then called to mummy, telling her that the tea was ready. She was very pleased with me for doing the little extras. "Ask Denny to make tea - she made tea. Didn't even pour it in the cup unless you gave her specific instructions .." She laughed. "You wouldn't believe how she used to fight me." She sat down. "Would you pour?" she asked. "Certainly mummy" I said. We had barely started when the phone rang. "It'll be Denny at this time of night," she said. "You better answer it." She was right. It was Denny - telling me that she'd been held up, and couldn't see any reason for coming back that night - there were extra toothbrushes where I was. I didn't shave that much - and hadn't I shaved a couple of days ago? "But I need clothes!" I said. "What for?" she asked simply. "Mum'll want you to model tomorrow morning, first thing - so I don't see you needing clothes until .. maybe.. Three o'clock .. If then. So what's the hurry?" "But I'll need pajamas for tonight.." I started. "Oh Dennis!" she sighed. "For goodness sake! That room's full of nightwear!" "But it's all yours!" I exclaimed. "You're welcome, silly," she said "I've never worn most of that junk.." "That's what I mean," I persisted. "It's all.. Girl stuff!" She sounded exasperated. "What are you wearing right now? If you've changed back, what were you wearing an hour or two ago?" "But.." "Oh stop complaining!" she ordered in a voice that wouldn't take much more argument. "I'm sorry Denny" I said meekly "I'm not used to this stuff yet.. And your mother .." "Who??" She interrupted. ".. Mummy says that she might need me for three or four weeks. I didn't know it would take that long.." She sounded surprised. "That long? What's she making? A spring collection? I'll never wear most of that shit. She's gotta know that by now - surely?" "Maybe you could talk her out of some of it?" I suggested carefully. "Shit no!" she came back. "You were the one that made all of these promises to her. If anyone's gonna ask her, it's gonna be you! I'll admit, I didn't think it was going to be that long - but better you than me, sweetie." "She called me 'Denise' once," I complained. I didn't get much sympathy there either. "Yeah," Denny said, "she kept calling me that all the time too - until I stopped answering to it. Just tell her that your name is 'Dennis' .. don't let her bully you. Just because she has you walking around in sissy undies is no reason..." She sniggered audibly "..that she should treat you like one." She hung up shortly after that, leaving me to Marie .. mummy's.. mercies. When I got to my room, she had turned the bed covers down, and left a pale yellow nightdress, and matching robe lying on top of the bed. I was tired, both physically and mentally, and in no mood to show any argument. I had the feeling that she would be coming in to tuck me in, and was proved right. She commented on how nicely the yellow color suited me. "I heard your conversation with Denny, and figured you'd be needing nightwear. I do have the prettiest pink one as well, but I thought you'd look nicer in that" she said, re-tying a satin bow at the sleeve more to her satisfaction. "Well, you look tired. So I'll let you get to sleep." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Goodnight Denise," she said. "Mummy?" I said with a smile to break the impact. "My name is 'Dennis'. I'd rather you called me that, if you didn't mind." "Silly goose!" she said warmly. "Denise is a lovely name. I'm sure you'll grow to like it." With that, she left me speechless, frilled in a cloud of yellow lace, and ready for slumber. And sleep I did. She was up before me. I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen. I desperately needed the bathroom. The clothes I'd brought with me the previous day were still lying there, though she must have picked up my underwear and socks. I was deliberating what to wear, when she called out for me to hurry. Breakfast was ready, and she wanted to start on 'my' dress as soon as she could. There just was no sense in putting on my men's clothes. I'd have to change back into some lingerie pretty quickly. I wasn't sure what specific items she'd want me to wear for the modeling, so decided, and threw the robe on over my nightdress. I performed my necessary ablutions, washed my face, brushed my teeth with a new brush she'd left out for me, combed my hair, and presented myself for breakfast. "Good morning Denise," she said brightly. "Good morning mummy," I said sheepishly. "You really look pretty in that outfit," she said, "now that I see you out from under the bed clothes. Did you sleep well?" "Oh yes mummy," I said. "Like a top!" And so we sat down to breakfast. It was a nice morning. Any unpleasantness from the night before seemed to have vanished completely. It was amazing, I thought, how pleasant life could be if you went along with my new family's wishes. And, for the rest of that morning, go along I did. After breakfast, I showered while she tidied up. As I finished drying myself, she brought in some dusting powder and handed it to me around the door. I didn't see any sense in not using it, as I have a tendency to chafe - and it had just a light trace of perfume, not one of these really heavy ones that some girls wear. She had laid out fresh lingerie on my bed. Peach satin with black lace trim. Another change was that the set included a full length slip, rather than the knee-length one I'd worn the night before. I had less problem fastening the bra at the back than I'd thought I would. She hadn't put out a robe, so I just slipped the yellow one back on, and reported to her in the sewing room. She was just finishing up a phone conversation, and promising to 'have it done right away'. She looked at me with a wry expression "This'll just hold me up for a little while. Why don't you read one of these magazines I keep in that rack for my ladies." So, I spent an hour reading articles on skin tone, benefits of avocado in skin moisturizers, how to keep your husband happy through cooking. To be honest, some of it was quite interesting but, one, I still felt uneasy sitting around in lingerie: two, I was getting bored with nothing to do. Marie (dammit!, Mummy!) sensed my boredom. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding sincere. "This job I'm doing is just a little more difficult than I expected. If you want though, I could show you what I'm doing. Honestly, it can be very interesting." This was my introduction to dressmaking. Mummy was good at it. Not only that, she was a good teacher, making the subject very interesting. And pretty soon, I forgot what was going on around me, the feminine clothes i was wearing, the new house, the relationship I was establishing with a woman who was going to be my mother in law. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime. To cut a days activities into a short sentence - absolutely nothing got done towards making the wedding dress. To be honest, I can't say I didn't enjoy it. I really hadn't been too keen in going to all the trouble associated with looking for a job. Now, it was if all the pressure had been lifted off of my shoulders. I had something to do - and I was doing it. At least, the responsibility of getting the dresses made was solely on the shoulders of mummy - I was strictly a model - no authority, no responsibility. Lunchtime passed, and no sign of Denny. Late in the afternoon, I started wondering about how it looked for me to be still in the lingerie, so changed back into my own clothes for dinner - well, at least as well as I could. My underpants hadn't been washed, so I kept the panties on that I'd worn that day. As my socks were in the same state, I kept the stockings on - which naturally mandated my wearing of the garter belt as well. As my own shoes felt like real clodhoppers on stockings, it made more sense to wear a pair of the lower-heeled shoes that mummy had given me. (I kinda enjoyed the extra height they gave me too, as they were still higher than mine!) Denny came by after dinner, and brought me a few changes of clothes. I wasn't as thrilled as I would have been the night before. I was also put out more than a little to see that she was wearing denims, a shirt, and sweater of mine! When I brought this up, she just laughed and said that, if I wasn't going to wear them for the next week or so, she'd save them from the moths. Anyway, if I was going around in her clothes most of the day...?" She left the rest unsaid.. After she left, I discovered that she'd forgotten pajamas for me. Somehow, it wasn't as traumatic to put my yellow nightdress on that night, or wear it to breakfast the next day. That day, and the next, was spent on modeling for my new lingerie. It did seem to take longer than mummy had anticipated, but I was getting more and more used to my role and, other than being bored for fairly long periods of time, got that I quite enjoyed the feel of the materials and mummy hovering around me, asking for my opinion on colors, fabrics, and so on. The lingerie she made was gorgeous - far better than any I'd ever seen in store windows. Lustrous satin, soft lace, florals and pastels, beautifully stitched. I knew that the lingerie I had been wearing as the model had also been made by her, but it paled into insignificance against the trousseau she was making. . . . As I said, I was becoming quite comfortable in my new role and clothes, but a small demon started whispering in my ear that if I didn't show some sign of independence, I'd be nothing but a cipher in both women's eyes. So, I developed a new tactic. If there were signs that mummy wouldn't need me for a while, I'd go back and change into my own clothes. Then, when she'd call me, I'd have to change again. She started showing small signs of exasperation when she'd have to wait a few minutes for me to get ready. I rather enjoyed this for a day or two, having little giggles to myself at her growing aggravation. I think I may have made the mistake of not hiding this enjoyment well enough, and pressed the issue just a little too far. She had just finished with me. "Will you be needing me again mummy?" I asked sweetly. "Yes!" She snapped. "Soon?" "I don't know!" she growled "Why do you want to know?" "So I can go change," I replied. "But it's such a waste of time to be doing all this changing back and forth," she argued. "Why can't you just stay in your undies like you were doing? It's so much easier.." "But.. Just suppose one of your customers comes in," I said, rather snottily "how can you introduce me as your son-in law?" I could see her gritting her teeth to stay calm, and again opened my mouth at the wrong time. "I really would like to go change - if it's ok by you," I added. I was astounded by the speed with which she moved. Before I knew it, she had jumped from her chair, came across the room, grabbed me, pulled me back with her, sat down with me face down over her knees, and was spanking me with a great deal of enthusiasm. I writhed, pleaded, cried, but nothing did any good. She administered about fifteen stinging slaps to my buttocks before she finished. By that time, I had stopped fighting her, and lay sobbing over her knees. "You .. have .. been .. a .. very naughty girl," she panted, a little out of breath. "You know that, don't you?" I wasn't about to argue. "Yes mummy," I sniffled. "Well. You want to change. So let's go. I'll help you," she said, helping me back to my feet. Then she led me back to my room, where she pulled my pants and a shirt from the hangers. She turned to me with them in her hands. "If you put these on, it'll just waste mummy's time when she needs you." She turned to the closet and pulled out a plaid dress, full skirted. "However," she continued, "if you wore this over your undies, all you have to do is step out of it when mummy needs you - and you won't waste any of her time. And, if any of my customers do come, they'll just see a girl in a dress. They won't be thinking you're a man, will they? - Now what do you want to put on?" I capitulated. "The dress, mummy." "Are you sure now?" she pressed. I hung my head. "Yes mummy." "Don't see much sense in you changing every five minutes then, do you?" she continued, as she opened up the back of the dress. "I think that if you have to wear these silly men's clothes, you can wear them at night, because I think that they just confuse you if you put them on too often- right?" I nodded. "Be a good girl then, and step into this," she said. "I think you'll look nice in it. From tomorrow on, you can pick out your very own dresses from the closet here. Won't that be fun?" I stepped into the opened dress she was holding in front of me. She pulled the bodice up around my waist, then helped my arms in through the little puffy sleeves, then started fastening me in. I could literally feel what little vestiges of masculinity I had disappearing as I was imprisoned in the fabric. Finally, she closed the neck opening. "Won't that be fun?" she repeated, definitely wanting me to answer her. "Denise?" "Yes mummy," I agreed abjectly. . . . It may sound strange, but wearing the dresses brought home the femininity of what I was doing far more than the lingerie had done. Perhaps it was the 'flounce' of some of the skirts as I moved, perhaps the fact that I was now encased in 'layers' of fabric. Tiered petticoats under my skirts and dresses. Probably though, it was because mummy now seemed to expect me to give her more of a hand with her sewing, as well as the household chores. More and more often, it seemed that hours would go flying by with me engaged in other pursuits - and nothing was getting done relative to the trousseau. One night, I undressed for bed, and realized that I had worn that dress all day - had helped mummy with her sewing, had dusted and vacuumed the house, done the washing and ironing, and made dinner. She had been so grateful as she'd helped me with the dishes. "Honestly dear," she said. "You've no idea how much I appreciate all your help in the house. Heaven knows how far I'd be behind with my orders if it weren't for you. I know how impatient you must be, and I feel terrible about it - but tomorrow, well.. Maybe the next day - for sure - I'll be able to really get a move on." She was so nice and apologetic that I didn't have the heart to complain, figuring that the wedding being only three weeks away would have to either speed her up, or cut back on the amount of clothes she was going to make. Somehow, though, it wasn't a shock when, the following day, Denny dropped by again and asked if I would mind delaying the wedding .. Not long, another two weeks, maybe three? I was feeling somewhat embarrassed as she had arrived unexpectedly, to find me in a blue satin cocktail dress with an inordinately large bow, backless, with a small matching straw hat (small veil, naturally), waiting for her mother to check the hem length. It didn't seem to faze Denny though. She was still wearing my clothes - jeans, button down shirt, tweed jacket - but I thought it wise not to comment. She also wanted to borrow my driver's license. She was going to drive down to San Diego on a job interview and, if it was alright by me, she'd like to borrow my car. If she was stopped by the cops for any reason, the license would match the registration ..O.K? As her hair was short, she could definitely pass for the fuzzy photograph on my license. Her mother thought the delay was great, breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Whew!" She laughed, then turned to me in some concern. "Denise .. I'm sorry.. You really don't mind, do you? I so want to do this, and I was getting scared that I'd never finish." What could I say? I had to agree to the postponement. With her mother, I tried to find out what the job was. Denny just grinned furtively, but with an air of excitement. "It really is a big deal," she finally admitted, "but leave me alone you two. I don't think I've got a chance and, if I told you, then didn't get it, I'd feel like a fool." I really wanted to get out of the dress I was in, as Denny was staying for dinner. Mummy dissuaded me though. "You look just fine," she comforted me, "and it would be an awful lot of trouble undoing these fasteners at the back, then fastening you in again after Denny leaves.. But I'll take the hat off for you .. It is a little formal for making dinner in." "Oh mummy," I complained. "I wanted to talk to Denny as well, you know." "You'll have all the time in the world to talk to her after you're married," she countered. "And you did promise to make dinner tonight, remember?" Unwillingly, I nodded. "And put this over your nice dress to stop any spilling on it," she said coyly, putting a frilly apron over my head, turning me around and tying a bow at the back. And, somehow, the evening went by without me having too much chance to talk to Denny at all. It was a bombshell to me then, when just before she left, I discovered that her mother had talked her into a local wedding, instead of Vegas - and that, somehow or other, there was now the possibility that three bridesmaids would be involved. It dawned on me that if there were to be three bridesmaids, there was an excellent chance that the making of three more dresses would have to be considered. "Looks like I've got a lifelong career," I groused. Denny came up beside me, and slid her hand down my satin-clad rear. "But you look so..o..o..o cu.. u..te, and you feel so..o..o ni..i..i.ce," she giggled. "I really like this big bow," she said, patting it delicately. "I didn't notice it at dinner time. But how do you girls manage to sit in these things?" "Very carefully," I giggled in turn, before noticing that both women were referring to me as a 'girl' now. I had to do something about this, I thought to myself. What with her mother often referring to me as 'Denise', and now her talk of me being included with 'girls', things were getting out of hand. Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow, I'll have a long talk with mummy. And talk to her I did - but the end results weren't quite what I'd anticipated. She had finally got around to the wedding dress again, and I was standing on the small dais she often had me use, the white satin skirt of the dress billowing around me, when something about the veil length crossed her mind. Nothing would do other than her searching out a length of gauzy white material, draping it over my head, then putting a white brocaded circlet over that, then pinning it to my hair. She then pulled the front of my veil back over my head, so that the impromptu veil was now being worn off my face. I'll admit now that my timing could have been better. "Mummy?" I started. "Yes dear?" "You're starting to call me 'Denise' an awful lot.." "Yes?" she said, disinterest heavy in her voice. "And Denny called me a girl last night," I continued. She sighed, and emptied her mouth of some pins. "Come over here dear," she said. "Time we had a talk, I think," and she led me over to the table where we both sat down. "I don't want to offend you dear," she started, "but can I say some things that might bother you? Please? Just let me have my say. If you get mad at me, just keep in mind that the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Ok?" I had wanted to talk to her first, but fair is fair after all. "Ok," I said. "Fire away." "You're being silly," she said carefully. "I don't know if you're really aware of it, but you've become .. Almost like a daughter to me in the last week or so. For you to be complaining because Denny and I treat you like a girl .. Well, it's just stupid! You dress in girls clothes. You walk like a girl.. You even talk like a girl. But every time a customer comes in you hurry away, when you could be helping me get her taken care of more quickly.." "But I can't let them see me!" I argued. "Why?" she asked. "Why not?" "Well ..because .. " I stammered. She smiled gently. "Don't you realize how much you resemble a girl now? Even in your own clothes you're starting to look more like a girl in boy's clothes than anything else. Your hair is almost long enough to get a nice hair-do. A little makeup, and you could be my niece when customers come in. Then you could help me more, instead of hiding away somewhere - no good to anybody!" I was shocked by what she said, but I sensed the truth in it. She realized my uncertainty. "It wouldn't do any harm to try?" she pressed. I protested weakly, but she got me back up on the dais and, as having a wedding dress fitted around one's body is not conducive to arguing one's masculinity, found myself agreeing that, "It wouldn't hurt, just once, just to see." That night, she gave me a facial, set my hair in rollers, then gave me a manicure and a pedicure. Naturally, knowing that something like this was scheduled, I had put a nightgown on instead of changing. "Isn't this fun?" she said excitedly. "See how nice it is to be pampered? Wait 'till you see how pretty you look!" The following morning was my "trial" as I was to be her niece at a fitting for a customer. With the mask removed, eyebrows plucked, full makeup, and a little perfume, I stood with my knees shaking as she clipped a pair of pearl earrings on me, then clasped a matching choker around my neck. I had on a very pretty full-skirted black and white polka dot dress with short puffy sleeves, and bright red shoes and belt to match my lipstick. "There's the door bell," she smiled. "May as well get it over with. Why don't you let Mrs. Anderson in? - And don't worry, you look just fine!" I knew that I looked like a girl. I knew I walked like a girl, now totally comfortable in heels. I smelled like a girl - and probably acted more like a girl than Denny had ever done in her life. Nonetheless, my heart was pounding as I went to the door, and let Mrs. Anderson in. I shouldn't have worried. Mrs. Anderson, and all the other customers that followed her for the next week totally accepted me at face value - as of Marie's niece 'interested in dressmaking as a career - and helping out for the experience'. I rapidly became more comfortable in my role as a girl, started enjoying mummy fussing over me at night and her good natured bossiness. One day during that week, Marie turned around to me and said, "It's a beautiful day, and I'm fed up with being in all the time. You must be too. Why don't we go out for lunch?" "That's a great idea, mummy," I said. "Just let me go change." "Oh! Denise!" she laughed. "Do we have to go through all that again?" And I realized that she meant for me to go out, in public, as a girl! I was frightened for a moment, but it dawned on me that with my hair now being the way it was, my walk having the slight sway that wearing heels for any length of time will generate, it would take quite a while to re- program me into acting like a man! At the same time, Marie was right. I hadn't been out of that house in weeks, and all of a sudden the idea of a trip to the outside world seemed like an escape. I took a deep breath. "Let's," I said. Marie smiled, then came forward and kissed me - but on the lips! My legs almost buckled with a combination of surprise and sexual submission. She gave me a strange look when she let me go. "Yeah, let's," she said, but in a throaty seductive voice I'd never heard from her. I think we were both surprised by the results of that kiss. My legs were still shaky a couple of seconds later, and she had a thoughtful expression on her face for a little while. I repaired my makeup and put on a nice yellow bolero jacket to match my skirt. She ran a comb through her hair then was ready to go. She then looked out a small white handbag for me, and had me put my lipstick, a comb, and some miscellaneous cosmetics in it. Nervously, I followed her to the garage, and got on the passenger side of her car. Using the opener, she got the door up, got in the car, gave me a wink, and we were off. She didn't drive for long, going to a small enclosed mall not too far from the house fairly quickly. There was an "Olive Tree" restaurant there. She led me in, and got us a table for two in a fairly dark corner well away from the rest of the lunchtime crowd. "You're doing just fine!" she whispered. "But you look a little frightened yet. Would you like a drink? Might calm you down?" I'm not much of a drinker, but agreed, as I was a little nervous. She ordered a 'tequila sunrise' for me and a martini for her. "This tastes like pink lemonade," I enthused. She laughed, but the same expression she'd had after kissing me crossed her face fleetingly. And the afternoon flew past. I had another drink or two, but they didn't seem to affect me at all. I did start to feel a little funny around mummy - her hand always seemed to be 'connecting' with me: my arm, my waist, my buttocks, my thighs. I couldn't help it, I started squirming with a mixture of fright and sexual arousal every time she came near me. Suddenly had a strong desire for her to kiss me firmly. The experience of joining her in a trip to the Ladies room didn't frighten me as much as it should. Was the drinks I guess. Finally, I'm not sure how. I found myself back home, safe and sound. She wanted some tea, so sat at the kitchen table while I bustled around getting it ready. At least, that was the impression I was trying to give. Inwardly I was in a tizzy again, just wanting her to kiss me. It didn't take too long. I minced past her once too often. Her arm snaked out and caught me. She stood up. Pulled me into her arms. Kissed me. Led me to the couch in the living room. Pulled me down beside her. Kissed me again. Her hand found my silk-clad leg. Caressed it. Moved upwards. Pushed me onto my back. Straddled me. "No mummy," I whimpered in a weak semblance of protest, as she pulled up my skirt, lifted her own, pulled her panties aside and fitted her moistness around me. She laughed softly. "You don't really mean that. Do you Denise? I know that you want to be my little doll-boy." "But what if Denny finds out?" I asked, my body starting to undulate under hers. "I'm not going to tell her, are you?" she asked me softly, bending down to kiss my ear, and starting to ride me a little harder. . . . Later, after tidying myself up, I tried to convince myself that I'd disliked what she'd done to me. After all, I told myself, she was bigger - and stronger, than me. For a while I even came close to convincing myself that I'd struggled against her, and had only been overcome by her authority and strength. We had a quiet dinner, neither of us saying much. She was kind to me, and even helped with the dishes. (More and more, I seemed to be taking over the domestic chores associated with the running of the house. Not only that? It was as if I expected them to be my job.) We watched TV. Then I excused myself about ten, saying I was tired. I wasn't really. A strange sort of restlessness overtook me in bed, making me toss and turn. Finally, I got out of bed again, and turned on the night light. I found myself going to my lingerie drawer. Rummaging through it, I found what I was looking for - a beautiful, embroidered nightgown I had never worn before. Light blue. Satin trim around the neckline and sleeve cuffs. White and dark blue flowers embroidered on the bodice. I thought I'd seen the matching robe hanging in the closet. I went and checked. Yes, it was there all right. In a sort of a trance, I found a soft 'sleeping' bra (as mummy described it) with a pair of matching panties. I slipped the nightgown that I'd been wearing over my head and threw it on the bed. Then I put the bra and panties on. My skin felt strangely hot, even the silky fabric, though cool, didn't seem to lower my temperature any. I stuffed the bra with a couple of small chiffon scarves, put the nightgown on, then the robe. In the bathroom, I carefully examined the cosmetics there; unstoppering, and smelling the perfumes; extending the lipsticks out of the tubes until I found one that was bright scarlet. Sitting down at the mirror, i carefully applied it to my lips, blotting my lips with tissue as I applied layer after layer. It tasted nice, I thought. Then a little touch of perfume behind the ears and on the wrists. I discarded the idea of mascara and eye shadow - I knew I didn't have enough experience. I did put some blusher on though, then dusted a layer of powder over it. I brushed my hair straight back. It was just long enough to allow a light blue lace tie at the back. I wasn't sure how it looked, but decided to go with it anyway. Put on a pair of low heeled pumps, and walked out of my room, down the hall, and knocked on mummy's door. "Who is it?" she said sleepily. "Denise, mummy. Can I come in?" A slight pause, then, "Of course dear. Come in. Come in. What's the matter?" "I'm lonely mummy," I whispered going into her room. "Can I sleep with you? - Please?" I heard the click of her bedside lamp, and a soft light filled the room. She looked at me from the bed, and smiled. "That's a pretty gown, Denise. Did you put it on just for me?" My mouth had gone dry. Too dry to talk. I nodded, and kept approaching the bed. "And that lipstick suits you .. and is that Shalimar I smell?" she said. I nodded again. "Are you going to be mummy's little dolly again? Going to let me kiss you and make love to you again? Your hair is almost long enough to set now. Why don't you take your robe off, slip into bed, and we'll talk about what style we're going to set it in tomorrow. Does that sound nice?" And I slipped into bed, and her waiting arms. We didn't discuss my hair at all. Three days later, the three bridesmaids-to-be came for the first fitting. Naturally, as they were all part of Denny's crowd, I'd met them before. To be honest, they didn't seem surprised to find me in a dress, scented, made up, accessorized in earrings, necklace, bracelet, rings and even (this did draw a few questioning looks) a gold slave bracelet around my left ankle. Mummy let it 'slip' that it was so much easier for me to help her, dressed the way I was, than to be looking like a young man in girl's clothes when her customers came by. The girls accepted this explanation with total disinterest. They were so totally into clothes, makeup, accessories, etc. That they saw no real reason to question anyone (male or otherwise) showing the same tendencies. But they were so much fun! I really enjoyed being around them. On their part, I was accepted as 'one of the girls' almost immediately, as evidenced by their total lack of embarrassment in walking around in front of me in their underwear while being fitted, or awaiting Marie to adjust or fix something pertaining to their outfits. I started looking forward to the days they came - they were so much fun! I refused to join them the first time they invited me to the movies, but then took them up the next time - it was a movie I very much wanted to see. And I became a real part of the group now - Denny wasn't hanging out with them much any more - she had some big deal cooking, I was told. But there wasn't any doubt about my standing now - I was one of the 'dolls'. I have occasionally suspected that the timing wasn't altogether accidental, when Denny arrived to find me and the three girls in various stages of undress, standing giggling about something that mummy had just said. Naturally, mummy was just saying, "C'mon girls! C'mon! We've got work to do!" when Denny walked into the room. She was looking more and more mannish all the time, I thought, seeing my tweed jacket, jeans - even my goddam watch! Mummy was pleased to see her. Not so pleased to discover that she had something important to tell 'Denise' and her - immediately! "Can't it wait?" she protested. "These girls are in one of their 'silly' moods, and if I don't get this done .." "It's important Marie. We've got to talk .." Denise looked at her (my) watch ".. And I really don't have much time.." It was the first time Denny had seen me in full make up. I was also embarrassed that I should have been caught in the stage of undress that I was, and really wasn't thinking when I threw a lacy peignoir over my shoulders as the three of us left the room for our private discussion. We sat around the table in the dining room. Denny had the grace to look a little shamefaced. I wondered what could possibly be going on. She started by pulling her lips into a grimace. "Mummy.. Denise.. I have to postpone the wedding again." Mummy shrugged. "Maybe just as well.. It's taking forever to get the dress and trousseau ready..." "How long?" I blurted "How long?" Denny tilted her head to one side. "Don't know. Three, maybe four months." I shook my head in despair. But then a gleam of light came through the clouds. "Well," I sighed. "At least I can go back to my apartment and start looking for work again." I turned to mummy. "Then we can start the fittings again when she's ready," I said, consoling her. She shook her head grimly. Denny grimaced again "Well.." she started slowly. "It's not going to be that easy." "What are you saying?" I asked. "What are you talking about?" "You know that job I told you about in San Diego?" she started. "Yes," I replied. "What does that have to do with it?" She sighed. "It's with Smalton and Dobbs." "Yeah," I said. "I applied with them for a job as a junior analyst." She looked guilty. "Yeah. I opened their reply to you. They wanted you to go down and interview." "Why didn't you tell me?" I bleated. "That might have been a good job." Then a terrible thought struck me. "You didn't take the interview for me?" I asked, an awful feeling starting to dawn. Her mouth formed the same strange grimace again. "Well .. No. I didn't," she said. "Not exactly." I should have felt relieved, but I sensed that worse was to follow. "Tell me. What are you talking about? - Please," I said simply. Denny grimaced. "I wrote them. Said I'd made a mistake. Had already been offered a better job.." "Who with?" I asked blankly. She shook her head. "Nobody! Told them that I'd maybe consider an opening they had for manager of Asian services.." "But I couldn't handle that!" I exclaimed. She looked at me calmly. "But I thought I could." "But you don't know anything about finance. You don't know economics.." I said, still wondering what was going on. "Got a degree in finance and economics," she said baldly. "Yours!" I gaped at her. "What are you saying?" "They think that I'm Dennis Sawtell, recently graduated with honors, ranked seventh in my class," she grinned. "They thought I was worth $45,000 to start." I leaned back in astonishment. "Whew! That's a lot more than I was thinking.." "I worked them up to $ 53,000," she came back quickly. "But I can't!.." I started. "But I can!" she finished. "I don't understand," I complained. All of a sudden, I felt one of Marie's hands start to caress my nylon-shod leg, and work it's way up under my skirt. Denny couldn't see what was going on, and answered me. "I've got a good job. Good money. As far as I can tell, it's mostly bullshit. They think I'm you - and seem very impressed - I start Monday," she concluded. Under Marie's hand, my leg was starting to tremble. I was still confused, but tried to pull myself together. "But what am I supposed to do?" I asked plaintively. "If you're using my name, and my degree.." I looked at her pointedly ".. My watch and my car. You never even gave me back my license yet!" I added, accusingly. She smiled. "Well. If I'm going to be you, looks like you should be me, doesn't it?" She pulled her license from her wallet. "Here," she said, handing it to me. "Look at that photograph. Kinda fuzzy, eh? Look at yourself in the mirror. Don't you think you could be the girl in that photograph?" There was no argument with what she said. A pretty blonde girl looked back at me from the license, another from the mirror. Not a perfect likeness, but close enough. She hammered her point home. "And see? This is almost four years old. When you go for a new license, they'll take a new photograph, then.." she added triumphantly, "you'll be me for good!" Marie's hand had been withdrawn for a while. Suddenly, it was back at work. I started to shake. "But when are we going to get married?" I blurted out. "The dress is almost finished, and mummy has done a lot of work.." Denny looked uncomfortable. "I've got to do a tour of the Asian offices starting next month.. I can't get married before then.. And it looks as if the trips gonna take at least two months.." I started to cry. Denny grimaced again, and started to reply, "Maybe .." when mummy interrupted. "Denny. You're upsetting Denise. If you're finished, go away. Denise." Then she spoke to me. "What's she's saying makes sense. You can't pretend that you're unhappy here, so another wait won't kill you. You're also right when you say that the dress is almost finished. At least stay until it, and the bridesmaids dresses are done - then we can talk again." As always, everything she said made sense. I put my head on her shoulder, and watched Denny beat a hasty retreat, muttering something about 'women' under her breath. . . . All of the dresses were finished even quicker than we anticipated. I had my final dress fitting less than a week later, and I helped mummy finish the bridesmaids dresses a few days later. But we never discussed the possibility of me 'reversing' my gender again. I had Denise's license - so had 'proof' of who I was. I had become totally comfortable in my new appearance and dress - the only problem now was that I knew that I had fallen out of love with Denny. I was now totally infatuated with mummy - and my feelings were reciprocated. We slept together every night now - and sometimes in the afternoon when the need for each other took over. At first, she was apologetic, saying how sorry she was that she had taken 'advantage' of me. That passed soon enough, thank goodness. At the same time, however, we both worried about Denny - and what would transpire when she found out about us. Denny was too busy the first three weeks of her new job to contact us except for hurried phone calls. She then took off on her trip - with an assistant no less! I couldn't help but admire her chutzpa - I knew more about her job than she possibly could, yet she was carrying off her charade with an aplomb that I'd never have managed and at a much higher level than I'd have had the courage to attempt. Mummy and I read her frequent postcards with (I must admit) pride, and a little awe. As I just said, both mummy and I were feeling somewhat down. One day however, mummy got a call from Denny. She was very thoughtful for a while then cheered up immensely. I knew that something was up, but couldn't wheedle it out of her - and by this time I had weapons of my own, believe me. She told me nothing, but got very interested in my wedding dress again for no apparent reason. The week before Denny was to return, mummy finally told me why she was interested in my dress again. "I might have a potential buyer for a duplicate," she explained. "And.. As far as I know, she might be interested in the bridesmaids outfits as well. She's coming soon. Would you mind modeling it for me?" She saw my hurt. "I know sweetie. But this could be very big for me as a dressmaker.. She's got a lot of money behind her and, if I could start making dresses for that crowd I could really start naming my own price.." Impulsively I ran to her and gave her a big kiss. "I'm sorry mummy. I know how much this means to you," I said. "Are the girls coming to model the bridesmaids