Bridesmaid Bethany Chapter 4
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Bridesmaid Bethany--Chapter Seven free porn video
When I got home, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to wear to
Carrie's bachelorette party--pants. I was suddenly sick and tired of
skirts. Lisa had found a pretty, long-sleeved ruffled black blouse at
Ross last week, and as I was suddenly in a very black mood, I knew that
I was going to forgo the pencil skirt Lisa preferred and wear that
blouse with a pair of black slacks that I had brought home over Lisa's
reservations.
Unbuttoning the work uniform, unclipping the bowtie, and unzipping the
skirt, tedious as it was with my long nails, was nonetheless evidence of
my ever-increasing dexterity, as was the relative ease with which I slid
into the black blouse and buttoned it up. The collar was small and
somewhat dainty, and the cuffs were trimmed with cute black ruffles. I
left the collar button open while I fixed my foundation, mascara and
lipliner, and then I touched up my newly bobbed hair with a brush before
applying a light shpritz of conditioning spray.
The slacks did not require a belt, but rather featured a tab in front
that clasped to the left; the placket covering the fly also folded to
the left. I pulled the slacks up over my pantyhose, zipped the fly, and
clasped the tab; my lower groin now appeared flat and feminine. The
slacks flared out at the bottom. I slipped into a pair of pumps with
comfortable, clunky heels, and clicked back over to the bathroom mirror.
It was a pretty blouse. Three rows of black ruffles lined either side
of the placket. I removed my understated work earrings, and as I put on
a slightly flashier, dangling pair, I noted once again my pretty nails,
and the fact that both blouse cuffs were buttoned closed with, not one,
not two, but three black buttons. Earrings in place, I smiled and shook
my head slightly. My bobbed hair rustled on either side of my face, and
my earrings brushed against my neck.
I buttoned the collar button on the blouse. The collar was smaller,
daintier than the collar on a man's shirt. The blouse had also come
with a detachable black scarf; although I had given thought to removing
it completely, it was still loosely hanging down my back, and I
impulsively reached behind me, pulled the ends around either side of my
neck to the front of my throat, lifted the small collar, and tied both
ends together in a half-knot directly over the collar button. I then
carefully formed two loops from the remaining ends of the scarf and
gently tied them into another half knot; after tightening this knot at
the end, bow I then pulled out the bow loops to an even length; the ends
of the scarf were equal as well. Lisa had taught me how to tie a
perfect floppy bow, and as I lowered my hands, I admired my result.
The bow was delicate and demure, like my eyebrows, yet cute, like my
bobbed hair. I stared at my face again. Was I pretty? Not quite.
More silly than anything else. I decided I didn't need the bow, and
yet, wearing it, looking at it below my face in the mirror, I felt a
sudden stirring. I looked down at myself, down past the hanging ends of
the scarf, the ruffles on my blouse, down at the flat front of my
slacks. I traced a long nail down the backwards-facing fly, past the
zipper and down to where my vagina would be, were it not currently
occupied by a penis and testicles, warmly nestled within my panties and
my pantyhose. My groin could still sense my fingernail, however.
In all of the excitement of Carrie's wedding plans, there was something
that I realized I had been neglecting. I glanced at the clock. There
was time. I glanced back up at my face in the mirror and gave one of my
fake breasts a slight squeeze though the soft fabric of the black
blouse. Then, my heels clicking all the way, I walked over to the
bathroom, where I put down the toilet seat, carefully pulled down my
slacks, panties and pantyhose, and sat down.
There was a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and as
my manhood began to protrude from below the tails of my blouse, I looked
across at myself as my manicured hand began to pull at it. I looked
ridiculous all right, my earrings swinging and my floppy bow dipping
back and forth in rhythmic unison, my thin eyebrows now furrowed, my
glossy red lips locked in a grimace. I looked down at my lap, my shaven
thighs, at the ruffled, triple-buttoned cuffs, and felt my hair falling
against my cheeks. And then I closed my eyes and thought of where my
life had taken me, of what choices I may longer have as a result of the
choice I had made, initially only to work as a woman, but to now
seemingly have lost my male side. Was my world now limited to white
figure skates, backward-buttons and endless facial repowderings? Would
I ever again experience the sensation of leaving the house without bra
straps over my shoulders and across my back, or with my keys and wallet
in my pockets instead of in my purse?
There were questions that went unanswered, as within seconds I was
preoccupied instead with grabbing toilet tissue and containing my
physical response. And with release, as always without Lisa nearby,
came shame and guilt. Without her reassurance, I knew that when I
looked up all I would see in the mirror facing me would be a clown-faced
freak with a handful of jizz, wearing a frilly blouse. Instead, I kept
my eyes down as I carefully cleaned myself off, my penis shrinking until
it was shriveled and clean, ready to be carefully tucked between my legs
and snugly secreted in nylon.
I checked the dainty watch in my wrist. I was due at Carrie's house in
five minutes. I hoped that they weren't counting on enjoying any
Southern Comfort right away, as I stood in my heels and looked at my
face in the bathroom. I was taken aback to see that my hair still
looked, frankly, fabulous. I zipped up my pants and primped a little.
My purse, with my compact and lipstick, was in the other room, but my
brief masturbation break hadn't really wrecked my makeup or anything. I
still looked slightly ridiculous, however. With more disgust than
regret, I poked a French tip into the knot of the floppy bow, untied it,
and tossed it in the general direction of the corner. I then unbuttoned
the collar button, then the next button. I still wasn't sure if I liked
the blouse or not, but it was too late to find another that I knew was
ironed. Grabbing my purse and the bottle of Southern Comfort, I hustled
out to the car to drive over to Carrie's, grateful for the added
mobility of pants, my heels clicking all the way.
***
As I expected, I was the last to arrive. I could hear the giggling of a
half-dozen of Carrie's friends as I waited on the front porch after
ringing the doorbell.
Lisa answered the door, wearing several colorful strings of plastic
beads and a pink sash that read "Maid-of-honor." "Bethany!" she
shrieked. "Get in here!" She snatched the bottle from me and pulled me
inside.
"Is that the Southern Comfort?" Carrie asked. I looked into the living
room to see her put a glass down on the coffee table amidst a pile of
wrapping paper and ribbons. She was wearing a tiara that read "Bride-
to-be" across the top, and had a long, pink feather boa draped across
her shoulders. She stood and bounded over to us in her bare feet.
"Sweetie, can I get you something to drink?" Lisa asked.
"Probably," I said, as Carrie threw her arms around me. I tried to hug
her back, but was taken aback as she stood on her tiptoes and planted a
wet, boozy kiss on my lips. As drained as I felt, it was not
unpleasant, and as she stepped away from me, I could see my lipstick
smeared on her face.
"Now," she announced to the other girls in the room, "we can really get
this party started!"
I looked at Lisa, who smiled ruefully at me and shrugged. "Let me get
you something to drink," she said.
I nodded.
She squinted at me. "Are you O.K.?" she asked. "That blouse looks
wonderful!"
"It's just been a long day," I told her.
Lisa nodded. Perhaps she wasn't convinced.
"Come in here, Bethany!" Carrie called.
"Is a wine cooler O.K.?" Lisa asked.
"Please," I said. I listened to my voice as I said this. For some
reason, I had turned that one-syllable word, "please", into a two-
syllable that sounded like a question, modifying a simple statement
expressing my wishes into a passive pleading. I looked down at the flat
front of my slacks and sighed.
"Bethany!" the other girls were calling
"Are you sure you're O.K.?" Lisa asked again.
I straightened up, threw my shoulders back, smiled, and was nodding when
I felt something being placed on my head. "Now you have to put this
on," Ann Marie was telling me. I reached up and touched it. It was a
plastic tiara. I went over to a mirror in the hallway to see how
ridiculous it looked.
I was surprised. Adjusting the two small combs on either side, it slid
on top of my head rather unobtrusively; it didn't even clash with my
earrings. I turned around to see Ann Marie handing me a sash of my own.
Like Lisa's, it was pink, and said "Bridesmaid" in purple script.
I followed Ann Marie back into the living, where the other girls
complimented me on my new accessories. I felt Lisa next to me, handing
me a glass with a straw in it. I mouthed thank you at her, looked down
at my drink, as a camera flashed and the room dissolved into yet another
burst of girlish squealing.
It was impossible not to notice. The straw in my glass had a thick
yellow plastic penis at the end of it, and although I could not conjure
another occasion in my life when I had ever witnessed anybody ever
drinking a wine cooler through a straw, I now noticed that all of the
girls had a different-colored penis straw in their drink; as I glanced
at the bride, Carrie was, in fact, in the process of removing a purple
penis from her mouth as she swallowed yet some more of the Sangria I had
tasted on her mouth a moment ago.
"Drink, Bethany!" one of the girls exclaimed.
I looked at Lisa.
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" It had quickly gone from a chorus to a chant.
Lisa just smiled up at me. "It's O.K." she quietly mouthed, nodding.
Just a piece of plastic, right? I made what I hoped looked like a
comically exasperated face, rather than a seriously annoyed face. I
noticed that Wendy had a digital camera pointed in my direction and one
finger on the shutter button. I sighed, raised the glass, put my mouth
on the end of the straw, and, essentially, sucked on it. The "penis"
was only plastic, thank goodness, but the taste of pina colada wine
cooler was agreeably tasty as it entered my mouth. I blinked from the
flashing of the cameras.
This earned me a round of applause. I smiled, sighed, and looked at
Lisa. She just smiled warmly back at me. As the alcohol settled in my
belly, I felt a certain amount of relaxation seep into me. I gave
thought to discreetly ditching the straw at the next possible interlude,
but a couple of the girls as well as Carrie were trying to speak to me
at the same time and it was hard to pick out exactly what was being
said, except that I had apparently missed Carrie opening her gifts.
I went over to a nearby seat, nodding my head, trying to keep up with
the chatter. Priscilla was asking me if I'd ever been somewhere.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"The Hot Spot," she was saying.
"What's that?"
"It's where we're all going next."
I nodded. "Lisa, has Bethany ever been to the Hot Spot?"
"I don't think so," she said. She caught me looking at her and winked.
"What is it?" I asked. "Is it a nightclub?"
"Well, they have dancers there!" Carrie exclaimed, and the whole room
erupted in yet another giggle fit.
I absently went to sip my drink, and remembered too late about my straw;
it really was a much thicker straw than I was used to.
"I'll be looking out for you, sweetie," Lisa said. "I'm not about to
let some dancer run off with you."
Suddenly it occurred to me what sort of place we were going to. I
looked at Lisa again as I removed the silly, R-rated straw from my
glass. She just kind of smiled and threw up her hands.
Jayla
- 28.07.2022
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