March of the Southern Belles Chapter Three
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March Of The Southern Belles--Chapter Five free porn video
"March of the Southern Belles--Chapter Five"
by Heidi-Jo McGillicuddy
Brunch was delightful, although I nibbled at my avocado and sprouts
sandwich more out of distaste rather than any manifest desire to display
appropriately dainty table manners. It was such a pleasure to eat in
such exquisite surroundings--the sterling silverware absolutely gleamed,
and I'd never eaten off of such beautiful china. Lisa giggled and
pointed to the lipstick I'd left on the rim of my iced tea glass.
Dessert was a wonderful chocolate pecan tart. I was careful to not get
any crumbs on my gown.
After the lunch we all listened attentively to Ms. Herndon as she stood
and spoke about the history of the Heritage Day Parade and the Ladies
Auxiliary, thanking both the volunteers who worked to create all of the
colorful ball gowns and of course, us, the Belles. Then a video taken
of us marching in the parade earlier that day was screened.
The effect of three dozen southern belles filling up Main Street with a
sea of pastel colors and crinoline was not lost on videotape, and I
indeed had to pay attention in order to spot myself among the belles as
we all filed past the camera. I caught a glimpse of myself all in
lavender, however; I was smiling hugely, my face framed by my floppy-
brimmed hat and ribbon and by the twin puffy shoulders of my dress. The
full length of my long, satin glove could be glimpsed on my upraised arm
as I merrily waved at everybody, and I appeared to be gliding, most
ladylike, in my hoopskirt.
When the brunch concluded, I gathered my hoops and stood, but I soon
found myself surrounded by members of the Ladies Auxiliary who began
congratulating me, complimenting me, touching me, hugging me, and
gushing over me, one at a time. I stood there holding my long-stemmed
rose, smiled and repeatedly thanked them, but it seemed as though every
last woman at the gathering wanted just a few more seconds with me. I
felt grateful for my hoops at that point, as they did afford me a little
bit of standing room (if not breathing room) but eventually I began to
despair that I would never be able to tear myself away from them.
Lisa must have sensed my distress, as she finally squeezed her way up to
me, took my hand, and very politely announced that I needed to go
upstairs to take care of some personal needs. The ladies all
immediately understood, of course, and there was an instantaneous
parting of the crowd to allow me back over to the staircase, where I
picked up my skirts and began the long upward climb, pausing before I
disappeared behind the curve to turn and wave goodbye.
While upstairs I found my hat and sat down at a little vanity to see if
I could properly place it on my head without Lisa's help. I slowly
adjusted the brim behind my head so that it best framed my face, and
then began to carefully tie the ribbon below my chin, creating a pretty
fair approximation of the perfect floppy bow that Lisa had tied earlier.
Then I slid the gloves up my arms, perhaps for the last time, and stood
up, enjoying the now-familiar feeling of my hoops dropping into position
and taking a moment to spin before a full length mirror, making sure
that my skirts were straight in every direction.
I needed some fresh air. I went down the rear staircase and exited the
Carriage House through the back door. I needed a few moments to myself;
I wanted to walk the beautiful grounds of the estate in my hoopskirt and
enjoy the beautiful lake view one last time before climbing onto the bus
to return to the community center. To my male identity, to my pants and
t-shirt, my keys, cash and I.D.
At this point my feelings about having to do this were decidedly mixed.
While it would be a relief to be free of the tight corset and the
relative inconvenience of the hoopskirt, there was something undoubtedly
luxurious about being covered from head to toe with such softness and
such beauty; I knew it would be quite a comedown to be back on Main
Street in the near future, driving in my crappy little Tercel stick
shift, my front seat loaded down with somebody else's dinner, a magnetic
sign on my roof, wearing a scratchy polo shirt with a corporate logo
over my heart and being subjected to loud, filthy rap music blasting out
of the car next to me. I much preferred eating off of fine china, using
a brightly polished bouillon spoon to consume a delicious bowl of
vichyssoise, using a linen napkin nestled within the multiple ruffles on
my lap to dab at the corner of my carefully lipsticked mouth.
There was a lovely swing near the gazebo. I picked up my hoops, sat on
it, and redistributed my petticoats around my legs as slowly began to
sing and gaze out over the lake. The sun was warm against the exposed
skin above my bodice, and I clasped my gloved hands in my lap and
relaxed.
I closed my eyes and thought about Lisa. Would she be able to look at
me the same way after seeing me like this? I certainly hoped she would.
Wearing a dress didn't change the way I felt about her, or the way I
felt about women in general... I enjoyed being allowed to enter such a
feminine inner sanctum, and the opportunity it afforded me to socialize
with the women of the Ladies Auxiliary, but I was happy to do it without
actually becoming a woman. It certainly beat working in a pizza store,
dealing with foulmouthed co-workers and angry customers.
As I sat there in my gown, swinging contentedly, I had to reflect that
it was the acceptance I had felt from the other belles and from the
Ladies Auxiliary that was the source of my inner serenity. At first it
had been Lisa's support of me, first as a man, and then as a man in a
ball gown, that had inspired me to dress up like this; but if dressing
as a Southern Belle for a day had turned out to be a humiliating
experience, I certainly wouldn't be feeling such satisfaction and bliss
right now. I looked down at my ruffles and bows for the millionth time
and felt no shame, only beauty.
And then suddenly I knew that Lisa was behind me, walking over from the
carriage house, even though I couldn't see her. I could smell her
fragrance, though, drifting with the breeze; I could hear the rustle of
her skirts, and the girlish tune she tended to absently hum to herself
at odd times. Then I felt her soft, satin gloves on either shoulder,
and I reached up to touch her hand with my own.
"I wish I had my pants with me," I said.
"You do?" Her tone was surprised, upset. "Why?"
I gathered my skirts and slid off of the swing. "Because," I said. I
turned, looked at her, and fluttered my eyelashes.
She looked disappointed. "Well," she said softly, "I mean, I don't mind
you in pants. It was just fun having you in skirts today."
"And I had fun in skirts," I said. "It's just that I wasn't expecting
to be in skirts. I wasn't prepared."
"Well," she said, "I mean, I thought about asking you last night if you
wanted to do this, to dress up, but I was so afraid you'd sleep on it
and decide not to do it, even though I had a hunch you'd be telling me
that because...you thought I wouldn't want you too..." She balled up
her hands into small yellow fists. "I was in love with the idea of you
as a belle, I wanted a Southern Belle of my own to love, I was hoping to
get you in a hoopskirt even you didn't want to wear one, and I was
hoping you'd have fun..."
"I had fun," I said. "This has been one of the greatest days of my
life. It's just that there was something that..." I tried to find the
right words.
"That what?" she asked.
I took a deep breath. "I was waiting for the right moment," I told her.
"I'd been waiting for it, but it hadn't come, and I wasn't sure if it
would ever come."
"What is it?" she asked.
I took both of her small hands in mine. "This is that perfect moment
that I was waiting for, and I just wish that I had my pants with me. But
not so that I could wear them."
"Well, why then?" she asked.
As we stood there in front of the gazebo over looking that beautifully
calm lake on such a lovely spring day, I held both of her hands in mine.
"Lisa?" I asked.
"What?"
She was beautiful. The floppy yellow ribbon below her chin fluttered
slightly in the breeze, and I felt her fingers tighten around mine.
Very slowly, I dropped to one knee. My hoops and my dress sank towards
the ground with me. "I wish I had my pants," I told her, "because for
the past two weeks I've been carrying around a ring in my pants, and
it's still in my pants, back in the dressing room at the Community
Center."
She gasped. Then her eyes began to rapidly blink.
"This would have been the perfect moment," I started to say, but she put
a single, yellow, satin-tipped finger to my lips.
"Don't say anything else," she said. "Let's not say anything else until
we get back to the dressing room."
"O.K.," I said.
We just looked at one another for a minute, and then I stood up. I felt
her arms go around me, and I held her close. "Kiss me," I told her.
"We'll mess up our lipstick," she giggled.
"Frankly my dear," I told her, "I don't give a damn."
"LADIES!" Gretchen shouted.
Once again we were the last two belles to get on the bus. We squeezed
into the last two seats and rustled against one another for the entire
ride. And when we arrived back at the community center, we were
oblivious to the world as we silently walked, her yellow-gloved hand in
my lavender-gloved hand, and when we finally got back to our dressing
room, we entered it together, and then we closed the door behind us.
***
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was inspired by a couple of YouTube videos.
I'd like to thank "atlmcm1900", the person who posted them. The clips
can be found at Youtube.
This story was written very much on the fly. I started it on April 5th,
submitted Chapter One to Fictionmania on April 8th, and am putting the
final touches on this final chapter on April 15th, the day after
submitting chapter four. A major reason I found myself committed to
finishing this story sooner, rather than later, is because of the many
warm and inspiring reviews that I have gotten from Fictionmania
readers, and I thank everybody for reading. I hope someday to go back
and try and reshape all five chapters into a slightly more cohesive
whole, as my vision and ideas for the story have shifted somewhat in the
past week, but in the meantime, please feel free to drop me a line at
[email protected]. I would love to hear from you!
Jo
- 19.07.2021
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March of the Southern Belles Chapter One
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March of the Southern Belles Chapter Four
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