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WEDDING BELLS Hi; My name is Brian Marchbanks and I, and my wife, Mary, live in the pretty village of Tynewood Parva in Northamptonshire. Well I say "village"; it's actually more of a hamlet. The village was original built as a facility for estate workers employed by Tynewood Hall; the nearby "stately home". Obviously circumstances have changed dramatically from the 1700's when the village was built. We have a community of some 35 houses; no shop; and no pub - the Tynewood family are Quakers!! We used to have a school, built originally for the children of estate workers; but that was closed many years ago. In fact Mary and I live in what used to be the old School House. The main school room is now the Village Hall. Tynewood Parva is still part of the Tynewood Estate and all of us, me and Mary included, rent our homes from Sir Hector Tynewood, the current Baronet. We are a mixed community. There are still some houses occupied by estate workers. Others are occupied by retired people - such as Mary and me; whilst the remainder are home to professional couples working in the nearby town of Peterborough Not much changes in our village, which is one reason why Mary and I chose it for our home when I sold out my Internet business for a considerable sum of money. I am 43 and Mary is three years younger. I had started up an Internet company in the 1990's and, having seen it steadily build, had been happy to sell it on to a couple of brash Americans who offered a good price just at the point where my analysis indicated a catastrophic fall in my sector of the market. Needless to say I didn't haggle more than was expected, and gratefully succumbed to their final, generous offer! Not wanting to sit around with too much time on our hands, Mary and I decided to set up new businesses. As we would not be dependent upon these for our income, we could afford to indulge ourselves and create businesses in sectors where we would enjoy working. Mary decided to open a dress agency - a "second-hand clothing" shop specialising in up-market, virtually new, couture for women's designer labels. She has always loved clothes and the chance to recycle fabulous garments to women who would not otherwise be able to afford them appealed to her thrifty nature. For me there was no doubt as to what I was going to do. Although I made my money in the computing industry, my principle interest for as long as I can remember has been in fine arts. I was going to open a gallery and display the work of local artists - be that painting, sculpture, ceramics; so long as the work was good, I would give it space. I was very fortunate in that I found a semi-derelict warehouse just off the main shopping area in Peterborough. On three floors it was somewhat larger than I needed but I could afford to buy it and planned to mothball any areas I did not need initially. My thought was that, over time, I might meet convivial, like-minded people who would want to come in with me on some sort of partnership/community basis. Anyway, we both spent a busy few months getting set up and were just starting to get going in our new occupations when the events occurred which I am about to relate. As I say, things are pretty quiet here in Tynewood Parva. Oh, the Village Hall is quite busy with bridge evenings, flower arranging classes and various other functions, but months can go by without anything exciting happening. Hence you can imagine everyone's interest when we learned that a new couple were moving into "Old George's" cottage. "Old George" had been a village character for seemingly ever, but had, regrettably, died a few weeks earlier. Since he was well into his 90's this hadn't come as a great shock, but new entrants into our village life were a novelty and we were all agog as to who the new couple were going to be. We didn't have long to wait to find out. Nothing can be kept secret in a small community like ours and before long; Mary and I learned that our new neighbours were to be a pair of women - living together! Needless to say speculation was rife. It was commonly assumed, knowledge that they were definitely lesbian; middle-aged, and a pair of battle-axes who wore serious tweeds; flat-heeled shoes; and had very butch hairstyles. So when Rosemary and Sandra actually arrived to move into their cottage, we were all surprised to discover that they were actually two professional business-women in their middle 20's! But, yes, they were living together, and the assumption remained that they were probably lesbian. It transpired that Rosemary was some sort of doctor and was working as a Consultant for the Peterborough Health Trust. Sandra was unemployed. The two women moved into the cottage next to ours and, as a matter of courtesy, after having said "hi" on the day they moved in, a few days later Mary asked them round for a meal. They proved to be very entertaining company. What they told us about themselves put all the village speculation and gossip into the shade! It transpired that Rosemary was actually a clinical psychotherapist specialising in gender issues and that, at one time, Sandra had been her patient. Now this isn't some "shock, horror", medical malpractice story; nothing improper or untoward had occurred during the doctor/patient period, but after Sandra had been discharged and taken off Rosemary's books, the two of them started seeing each other socially and had, gradually, become "an item". I mentioned that Rosemary's specialism was gender studies; well, surprise, surprise - Sandra had been born a man and had underdone sexual reassignment surgery! The two women made no secret of the facts underlying their relationship. As Rosemary said, "As the truth will be more startling that the gossip that I am sure is going round the village at this very moment; the sooner we get our story into the public domain, the sooner we will cease to be a "nine day wonder" and can get on with the rest of our lives." Now Mary and I are pretty broadminded people and, whilst we were startled and surprised, what they had to tell us was in no way shocking. We congratulated them on the happy outcome to their somewhat unusual meeting and offered to do anything we could to make their introduction into our small community a smooth one. They thanked us but said they had their own plans for disseminating their information! How they did it Mary and I never found out, but within the week everyone seemed to know their story. It was quite amusing to observe the different reactions. Most folk took it in their stride, but there were a few, who wanted to be censorious, but weren't sure whether to take umbrage because of two women living openly together or because one of them used to be a man. It was all too confusing and, in the way of most gossip once the facts are known, within a month had died the death. As they were our new neighbours Mary and I saw a lot of Rosemary and Sandra; shortly after we had invited them to dinner, they had us back for Sunday lunch and it soon became a regular occurrence that we would eat together at least once a week. It was during one of these leisurely Sunday lunches that Sandra broached an idea. "Brian, you know you have all that unused space at your gallery" she started. "Have you any definite plans for it?" I explained that I was waiting to the right people came along with whom I would enjoy working and then I would be happy to consider some form of partnership proposal. "How about me" enquired Sandra? "Do you think you could get along with me?" I said I was sure I could, but what sort of business did she have in mind? "I was thinking of opening a restaurant" she replied. "Before my operation I trained as a chef and worked in some quite impressive establishments." She then reeled off a few names that convinced me she knew what she was talking about. "I'm not interested is stetting up a place with the view of getting a Michelin Star sometime in the future" Sandra went on. "I've worked in a couple of those and I didn't like the pressure. I'm thinking about a much more relaxed, laid-back set-up. The reason why I think my ideas would dovetail with yours is that I envisage running a high quality tea room during the day, which I am sure would appeal to the sort of people who come looking at art. Our two operations would be mutually supportive; people who come to see your exhibitions are likely to want a cup of tea before going home and, conversely, people who just drop in for afternoon tea are likely to wander round the gallery as well." There was a lot of sense in what Sandra was saying, so I asked her to continue to develop her idea. "Well," she continued, "I thought that in the evenings I could turn the operation into a small, exclusive restaurant; not very many covers - probably just one sitting - and themed to complement your current exhibition." I became very excited by what Sandra was suggesting and the "leisurely lunch" rapidly became a white- hot, brain-storming session between the four of us. Suffice it to say, over the next few weeks we worked on Sandra's initial idea and turned it into a realistic business plan. I did not need to seek financial backing - I could fund the relative modest set up costs myself - and, a few months later, "Caf? Art" opened on the ground floor of my warehouse; my gallery having moved up one floor. Sandra brought in as second chef someone with whom she had worked previously and recruited an excellent team of kitchen and waiting staff from the local area. Several were young people newly out of catering college and this was a welcome break for them as most had envisaged not being able to find work during a time of economic depression. So for several months all four of us were very busy in our new jobs. Sandra's prediction that the Gallery/Caf? combination would prove a winner, turned out to be true. I had many more visitors to my Gallery than I had anticipated, and the caf? swiftly became a social focus in the town. The evening restaurant operation took a bit longer to get going; folk weren't too sure what we were about and the menu on offer - themed to complement my exhibitions - wasn't what they were used to, but, gradually, as word of mouth got round about just how good the food was, trade picked up. I enjoyed working with Sandra. She had a strong work ethic and I was impressed with her management skills and business acumen as she set about establishing her new business. As I got to know her better, Sandra told me more of her personal history. As a child she had always identified with girls rather than boys and on entering puberty had sought the advice of her doctor, without involving her parents who were turning a blind eye to his/her difficulties and pretending that if they ignored the issue, in time Sandra would become "normal" and everything would go back to being as it should. Fortunately, Sandra's doctor turned out to be rather more supportive and referred the boy to a specialist consultant. The upshot of this was that a regimen of female hormone treatment was prescribed and Sandra started the long journey towards altering her body to match her soul. Somehow Sandra managed to keep her medical treatment a secret from her parents and also from her fellow pupils at school. She told me that it had been particularly hard hiding the changes that were taking place in her body from her school mates and teachers. He doctor had written a letter asking her to be excused from games and PE on medical grounds and this had helped as she had not had to face the horrors of the changing rooms! Eventually she reached the end of her schooling and, having gained very good A-Levels, obtained a place on a business studies course at a good university. Here she was able to be more androgynous in her appearance as many students adopted strange garb once free from parental influence. She did well on her course, graduating with a good 2:1 and an offer of work with a prestigious consultancy firm. However, before she took up her appointment, she confided in her prospective new employers that she was planning to undergo SRS in the near future. This caused them to withdraw their offer. It wasn't the fact that Sandra was changing sex that caused the problem, rather that she wouldn't be available to join the arduous training and development plan that all new entrants had to undertake. They had been encouraging, however, and had suggested Sandra reapply once recovered from her surgery. Sandra therefore spent the next year living and working as a woman - her "real life experience" - in the catering industry. She found that she had a flair for menu design and kitchen management and by the end of the year was employed as an under-chef in a Michelin-starred establishment. It was during this time that the split occurred with her parents who couldn't bring themselves to face the truth about their child. At the end of the twelve months, Sandra entered hospital for her surgery; met Rosemary; and, when they decided to live together, gave up her ambition to become a high flying management consultant in favour of a better life/work balance. Since then she had been on the lookout for an opportunity to open her own restaurant. As I say, I found Sandra an impressive and agreeable colleague with whom to work and, after six months, I was able to formally tell her that our "probationary period" was over and that I could offer her a formal partnership in our new joint venture. She was overjoyed and threw her arms around me and gave me a big kiss. I returned the favour and it was only after we had broken apart that I remembered that the person I had been kissing had originally been born a man! By now Rosemary was well established in the hospital and, whilst she never talked about her patients, was clearly building up a substantial case load. Mary's Dress Agency was also doing well. After a sticky first few months, professional and "county" ladies found that her shop was a good place to discretely pass on surplus items from their wardrobe whilst, at the same time, frequently offering them some delightful new outfit to purchase. Everything was going swimmingly, as they say; and then Rosemary and Sandra dropped their next bombshell. One evening Mary and I were relaxing over a gin and tonic when the doorbell rang. It was Sandra and Rosemary; both women were clearly very excited. "We wanted you to be the first to know" Rosemary exclaimed as soon as they were seated in our lounge and before I had even had time to offer them a drink! "Sandra and I are going to enter into a Civil Partnership. We decided it was time we each made an honest woman of the other!" Mary and I were delighted for them and I hurried to open a bottle of champagne. "We have only just taken the decision" continued Sandra, "so it is early days yet; but one thing we are both certain about is that we want you two to be our "bride escorts". Rosemary's parents are both dead and mine disowned me when I told them I was going to undergo a sex change, so we have no-one to "give us away" and, as you have been so kind to us and have become such close friends, we couldn't think of anyone else with whom we would want to share our special day!" Mary and felt suitably flattered and the next few minutes were spent in hugs and kisses and not a few tears - some of which I must own were mine! "We are thinking of having the ceremony just before Christmas" - (some six months hence) - said Rosemary. "Clearly we have a lot of detailed planning to do, but we will keep you in the loop as we go along." With that the two girls said goodnight and retired to their own cottage. Mary and I continued to chat excitedly for quite some time. As we have no children of our own, we had never expected to "walk" anyone "down the aisle", so this was going to be a real adventure for us. "I've never heard of a "bride escort"" I mussed to Mary. "Me neither" she replied. "But then until a few years ago we had never heard of a "Civil Partnership" either!" Giggling, we retired to bed for the night. A few days later Rosemary slipped a note through our door, informing us that their Civil Partnership ceremony was going to take place on December 17th and that we should be sure to put that date firmly in our diaries. About two months after that Sandra and Rosemary asked us round to supper, specifically so that they could talk through their plans with us. With Sandra being an excellent chef, meals at their place were always something special and the two women had the grace to allow Mary and me to enjoy our food with only inconsequential "social chat" across the dining table. When we came to coffee, Sandra suggested we might take it in the lounge and be comfortable as they told us their plans. "We have decided to hold the actual ceremony at the Registry Office in Peterborough" Rosemary started. I knew the building which, unlike many Registry Offices, is situated in a handsome Georgian town house with a very pretty garden behind for taking photographs. "Then we will have the Reception at Caf? Art" Sandra continued. "Paul - (her Second Chef) - has offered to look after the catering and we wondered whether you would let us turn the empty top floor of the Gallery into a party room for the night?" Of course I was only too willing to let them use the space. They were right, the top floor of the old warehouse would make a fantastic party room - once cleaned and decorated. "We both have a fondness for the colour purple" Rosemary announced, "and that is going to be the underlying theme for the day. We have found some fabulous fabric - (and she produced a sample) - that will look gorgeous on the tables. There are all sorts of flowers in different shades of purple, lilac, and mauve we can use; although in December we won't have the choice of varieties that we would have had earlier in the year. Then, whilst Sandra and I intend to wear white, in accordance with convention, we are going to ask all our guests to wear something purple, to match with our colour scheme." This all sounded very stylish and I mussed to myself that I shouldn't have any difficulty in finding myself a mauve shirt and deep purple tie, and Mary would have the pick of her Dress Agency to find herself a, no doubt stunning, purple dress. "There is just one more thing" Rosemary announced, with an embarrassed little cough. "In recognition of our backgrounds and the journey we have both taken to be where we are today, we have decided to make this an "all girly" event with a strict dress code of skirts and heels. "You mean you no longer want me to be your "bride escort"?" I responded. "Of course I will be disappointed, but I fully understand that this is "your day" to plan how you wish, so I will willingly stand aside." "Oh no" interjected Sandra, "I still want you to be my escort and "give me away"." "Then am I to be the only man there?" I enquired. "That's not quite right either" said Rosemary. "Several of Sandra's transgendered friends will be there, but they will all be wearing dresses." By now Mary had worked out what the girls were implying and she started to giggle. It took longer for the penny to drop with me, but I got there eventually. "You mean you want me to wear a frock and high heels?" I spluttered; "No way; the deal is definitively off!" Even through my astonishment and shock I could see tears welling in the two girl's eyes. My reaction was spoiling their plans. Mary hastened to jump in. "Don't worry" she said, "this is a big shock for Brian, who has never acknowledged he has a feminine side to his personality. I'll take him home now and talk to him. I'm sure everything will come out fine in the end". With that she took me by the arm, led me out the door and back home. "Shame on you Mr Marchbanks!" was Mary's opening gambit once we were safely back in our own home. "You come over all macho simply because two of the sweetest people we know ask you to wear a dress in honour of the most important day in their lives, and your pride makes you fly of the handle like a spoilt brat. Let me tell you here and now that come December 17th, you WILL be in a dress and heels and that's the end of it!" I still had the wit to realise that Mary was seriously angry and that I needed to be careful in what I said. I started by apologising for flying off the handle and explained what a shock their suggestion had been for me. Mary calmed down a little. "Yes, I can see that" she said, "but that still doesn't excuse your behaviour. It's no big deal for you to wear a dress once in your life; after all half the population do it all the time!" I refrained from pointing out that that "half" were almost exclusively women! OK I'd make allowance in the total for a small number of men who enjoyed cross-dressing - but I wasn't one of them! After a few pathetic attempts on my part to justify my behaviour, Mary announced; "We are not going to get any further tonight. I suggest we go to bed and sleep on it. Hopefully you will be in a better mood in the morning." With that we went upstairs. Mary lifted the tension between us by saying, with a dirty giggle; "I'm tempted to make you wear a nightdress in bed tonight as a punishment for your bad behaviour, but I won't. Just remember, however, that it is there waiting for you if you ever go too far again." We both managed a slight smile at this sally and, rapidly climbing into my pyjamas before Mary changed her mind, we snuggled down in bed. The following morning I woke up feeling somewhat ashamed of my behaviour the previous evening. Granted I had no intention of ever wearing a dress, let alone high heels, but that was no excuse for having upset Sandra and Rosemary. I could easily have explained my feelings calmly and rationally and I am sure everything could have been sorted out without the embarrassing scene I had precipitated. I said as much to Mary when she awoke and offered to go round to Sandra and Rosemary's house immediately after breakfast and apologise. Mary, to my surprise, wasn't supportive! "You don't talk to the girls again until you are ready, as part of your apology, to agree to their suggestion that you attend their ceremony "en femme". It's not as if you will be the only cross-dressed male there; in fact you will stand out more if you are the only one wearing trousers and a tie!" I couldn't believe that Mary was ganging up with the other two against me in this way. Our discussion continued for sometime; occasionally getting quite heated. Eventually, when Mary had demolished all my arguments against cross-dressing one by one, I realised I had painted myself into a corner. I couldn't refuse Rosemary and Sandra's invitation without labelling myself a churlish bore. Reluctantly I agreed to give cross-dressing a try. "But if I look ridiculous you must allow me an opt out" I demanded. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it" Mary responded enigmatically! Accordingly, that evening, when Rosemary and Sandra returned from work, I went round to their cottage, knocked on the door and, on entering, apologised profusely for my crass behaviour and told them that I would go along with their plans as I didn't want to be the one to spoil their big day. Both women were overjoyed and threw themselves into my arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you" they cried. "I'm sure you will make a lovely escort for Sandra" continued Rosemary; "Just as I am certain Mary will look stunning escorting me down the aisle." With that I returned home and confirmed to Mary that I was now fully committed to the project. She immediately sat me down to talk through what would be involved. "There are bound to be a lot of very experienced cross-dressers at the Ceremony" she started, "and I am not having my husband looking like some accident in drag when compared to them! So between now and December 17th, you are going to have to learn how to present yourself as a woman and to familiarise yourself with the clothing. I wasn't too happy about what she was saying. To me it sounded as though I was going to be expected to wear women's clothing rather more often than I had anticipated. Sensibly, however, as I was still in the dog house because of my earlier behaviour, I kept my mouth shut and said nothing. In fact that was the last thing said on the subject for over a week. Then, on the Friday of the week following, I arrived home from the Gallery to discover that Mary, who was normally home before me, was still out. I set about preparing supper and put a bottle of fizz in the fridge to chill - we like to start our weekends off with a nice relaxing drink together. About an hour later Mary arrived home and staggered into the kitchen laden down with bags and parcels. "What have you been up to" I enquired, "it looks like you have been very busy this evening!" "This is all for you" Mary replied. "I think it is time we started educating you in the ways of womanhood." My heart sank. "You don't mean that all those bags contain female clothing that you expect me to wear, do you?" I whimpered plaintively. "Oh yes I do" responded Mary, "but it's not all clothing. There are shoes, make-up, jewellery, a wig, and body shaping devices as well!" This was clearly not the moment to start protesting, so I suggested we have supper and talk things through later. Mary agreed and we sat down to the meal I had prepared. After supper we sat in the lounge drinking our wine whilst Mary unpacked all her parcels. Once the wrappings were all discarded, there didn't seem to be quite as much as I had at first thought, but it was still a pretty substantial pile. "As I told you when you finally agreed to go through with Sandra and Rosemary's plan" Mary started, "you will need to practice behaving like a woman well before their Civil Partnership ceremony so as not to make a fool of yourself on the day. We will make a start this weekend and, in the morning, I'll help you get ready. For tonight I just want you to rub this depilatory cream all over your body, arms and legs; wait 10 minutes for it to work and then shower off. We need to get rid of all your body hair, although, fortunately, you aren't too hairy to start with." I wasn't happy, but I did as Mary asked and went upstairs to the bathroom. It wasn't easy applying the cream evenly everywhere and eventually I had to call out to Mary to ask her for her help getting to places I couldn't quite reach. Once I was totally covered in cream, I waited for the requisite ten minutes. My goodness that stuff itched and burned! Eventually Mary said I could get in the shower, and at first the relief the cooling water brought meant that I didn't notice all my hair flushing down the drain. It was only as I towelled off that I noticed how different my body and limbs looked denuded of hair. "Now rub this in" Mary instructed, passing me another bottle of cream. "This is a special moisturiser that will counteract the effects of the depilatory and soften your skin at the same time." I have to confess that, as we smoothed the scented cream into my body, I rather enjoyed the sensation. "That will do for tonight" said Mary. "We will make a start on your transformation first thing in the morning." We crossed to our bedroom and I opened a drawer to get out a clean pair of pyjamas. "Not those" said Mary, with a smile. "Put these on." With that she handed me an ivory coloured nylon nightdress and matching knickers. Thinking of what lay ahead for me on the morrow, there didn't seem much point in putting up a fight over this, so, with a sigh, I put them on and climbed into bed. To my surprise the nylon felt really sensuous against my newly-smooth skin. "I can see from you smile that you are already starting to appreciate some of the benefits we women get from our clothing" whispered Mary as she snuggled up against me. "Good night darling; sweet dreams!" I don't whether I dreamed or not; I certainly slept well and woke much refreshed. As I stretched I could feel the silky nylon of my nightdress sliding over my smooth body and my routine morning erection suddenly got harder! I hastened out of bed and headed for the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on the offending area until normal service was resumed. I didn't want Mary to think I might be enjoying all this! As I climbed back into bed, Mary turned to me with a warm smile; "As you are going to have a busy day dear, I'll get breakfast this morning. You lie in bed and relax." I lay back against my pillows and listened to the noise of Mary clattering around in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Saturday is my "breakfast treats" day; two or three warm croissants; lashings of butter and honey; and a large jug of strong black coffee. This Saturday, however, I was to be disappointed! Mary returned bearing a tray that contained a small bowl of muesli, an orange, and a glass of warm water. "You are going to need to lose a few pounds if you are to look your best in a dress" announced Mary. "Those "love handles" are going to have to go for a start!" Again, no point arguing, what Mary says is true; if I am going to do this, I want to do it well and if that means going on a diet for a few weeks; well that won't do me any harm. My meagre breakfast was soon finished, so I stripped off my nightwear and went into the bathroom for a shower. "Remember to shave particularly closely this morning" Mary called out. I did as she asked and returned to the bedroom to find that she had already dressed and gone downstairs, leaving me a pair of knickers and nylon robe on the bed. With a sigh I put them on and followed Mary down to the lounge. Mary was all businesslike as I entered the room. She was busily engaged in sorting her purchases from the previous day into various piles. "Right; this first of all" she said, passing me what looked like a very skimpy pair of flesh-coloured underpants. I slipped out of my robe and removed my knickers. The new garment proved to be very difficult to pull up my legs as it was extremely tight fitting. Mary explained that it was a gaff and its purpose was to hold my manhood tucked back between my legs, thereby giving me the appearance of a smooth, feminine front. Eventually I managed to wriggle everything into place, but it was quite uncomfortable. Mary assured me I would get used to it. She next wrapped a waist-corset around me and proceeded to lace it up at the back. In no time at all I was begging her to stop as I felt I couldn't breath. Mary told me to "stop being such a wimp and take more shallow breaths!" I followed her advice and it did help although I still felt as though I was being cut in two. Tan coloured nylon stockings were next rolled up my legs and fastened to the six tabs that hung down from the hem of the corset. "When you have lost a bit of weight we may be able to dispense with the corset and then you can wear pantyhose" Mary remarked, "but for now I think suspenders and stockings are the order of the day." Picking up a lacy, long-line bra from one of her piles, Mary had me slip my arms through the straps, which she then adjusted to the correct length. Silicon breast forms were placed in the bra cups and the flesh of my chest pulled around until I had the semblance of a reasonable cleavage. Mary passed me my robe and suggested I put it back on before sitting down in front of her at the table, upon which she had laid out a considerable quantity of make-up products. She proceeded to make up my face; "Just a little light, day-time make-up for now" she told me; "later I will teach you how to do it yourself and how to vary it for day-time and evening looks". Once she had made up my face, Mary produced a shoulder length, dark- blonde wig from a box and, having brushed it out, had me hold the front whilst she settled it on my head. A little bit of titivating and she pronounced herself satisfied. A pair of small gold hoop, clip on earrings were fastened to my lobes and a gold chin hung round my neck. Telling me to take off my robe again, Mary helped me slide my arms into a pale blue, silk blouse. She smiled as she did up the buttons. "You are going to have to learn to do this yourself darling, even in the buttons are the wrong way round for your masculine fingers!" The blouse was a very simple, classic cut; open sufficiently at the neck to reveal a little cleavage; sharply pointed collar; and long sleeves that flared slightly before buttoning tightly at the wrist. A navy blue, pleated skirt was handed to me next and I stepped into it and settled it round my waist - which, thanks to the corset, was somewhat higher than I was used to. Mary helped fasten the side button and closed the zip. "Now a tricky bit" she warned me, placing a pair of navy blue court shoes on the floor in front of me. "You had better hold onto this chair back as you will feel very wobbly at first when you put thee on." I took her advice and, although the shoes had only a 2 inch heel, I certainly staggered a bit when I came to take my first steps dressed as a woman. Taking hold of my elbow, Mary helped me totter through the door into the hall, where there was a full-length mirror. As I looked at my reflection I was staggered. Looking back at me was the image of a woman; not a very pretty woman it is true - and I could recognise my own features under the wig and make-up - but a woman never-the-less. She was staring back at me out of her startled, wide, blue eyes. I put my hand up to my cheek; was this really me? It was; and, as I came over faint from the shock, Mary helped me back into the lounge and sat me in an upright chair. I took as deep breathes as my corset would allow and closed my eyes. "Are you alright darling?" Mary asked anxiously, "I didn't mean for you to be overcome like that." "It's OK," I finally managed to gasp out. "It was just such a shock. I would never have thought it would have taken so little to make me over into a woman." "I know" replied Mary kindly, holding my hand. "It helps that you are quite slightly built and, once you have lost a bit of weight and become comfortable wearing these clothes, you will look even more feminine. I am now sure that by December, we have every chance of presenting you as a realistic woman and that you will be able to hold your head high among the other cross-dressers and transsexuals. I'm not sure why, because I had never wanted to be mistaken for a woman, but Mary's kind words produced a warm glow inside me. Over the next couple of months, Mary had me in skirts and heels nearly all the time when I wasn't working. She even had me wearing lingerie under my shirt and trousers when I was working at the gallery. Fortunately we never took it too far and none of my customers noticed anything amiss. During this time I was introduced to a wide range of feminine garments; skirts - ranging in length from mid-calf to mini, and from loose and floaty to tight and restrictive; dresses - day, cocktail, and evening; shoes - heels from 2 to 4 inch, flatties, and boots. Mary had me sat in front of a mirror for hour after hour, practicing putting on and removing make-up - both for day and evening wear. I learned how to apply varnish to both my finger and toe-nails. In short, I was given a crash course in everything a real girl learns between the ages of 12 to 18! Eventually a day came when Mary announced; "I think it is time for you to venture forth in your female guise. It is one thing to become used to dressing in the comfort of your own home, but come the day, you are going to have to interact with other people and you had better start getting used to it!" I was terrified; but, as ever, Mary was right and I gritted my teeth and agreed to give it a whirl. In order not to make it too daunting for me, Mary suggested that our first outing should be to a town some miles distant where we did not know anybody and the chances of my being recognised, minimal. We took extra care with my preparation and after lunch I scuttled out to the car and got into the passenger seat as Mary told me the coast was clear. During the drive I kept practicing the light, feminine way of speaking that I had been rehearsing over the last couple of weeks in readiness for this moment. In the event, everything went boringly well! We sauntered along the high street "window shopping" and, eventually Mary succeeded in encouraging me to go into small dress shop and buy a couple of pairs of tights. The sales assistant never gave me a second glance beyond something I could only interpret as: "cheap skate; why is she wasting my time by only buying a pair of tights!" I returned home quite elated that everything had gone so smoothly. Over the next few weeks Mary upped the ante and had me trying out more and more potentially exposed outings, culminating in an intimate dinner at a fashionable restaurant in the middle of Peterborough. I spotted a couple of people I knew slightly, but no one gave any indication of recognising me and the evening passed most enjoyably. I have to say I found dining whilst wearing a pretty frock; high heels; and false eye-lashes is much more fun than when in male mode; not least because the waiting staff are so much more attentive and polite! Finally Mary decreed that I was "just about ready". This was just as well as by now it was the end of November and the ceremony was only a couple of weeks away. Ever since Sandra and Rosemary had asked Mary and me to be their "bride escorts", Mary had been going through every parcel of clothes handed in to her Dress Agency to find dresses suitable for the two of us to wear on the "big day". Two nights before the actual event, she produced her final selections. For herself she had chosen a fabulous, knee-length, tight- fitting dress in a purple and white, diagonally-striped material with three-quarter length sleeves and quite a daring neckline. She had teamed this with a sweet little feathered fascinator. For me she produced the most glorious lilac suit. It had a multi-layered, chiffon, mid-calf skirt in soft pleats. The jacket was very long, falling well down my thigh. It had a lace edged collar that buttoned just above my waist. Underneath I wore a matching camisole, lavishly trimmed with lace at the bust. Mary had found a lovely little hat with lilac feathers sweeping round the back of my head. For both of us Mary produced white satin shoes with four inch heels and bottles of dye that exactly matched the purple and lilac of our respective ensembles. It was my job to dye the shoes and, if I say so myself, I made a pretty good job of it. The day finally dawned for Rosemary and Sandra's Civil Partnership ceremony. The evening before, Mary had stayed at their house with Rosemary, whilst Sandra slept at ours. In the morning Sandra and I helped each other dress. Laughingly Sandra recalled the days before her operation when she too had had to tuck her "parts" into a tight fitting gaff! We had a very pleasant time together. Sandra seemed totally unfazed wandering about in her underwear whilst I help her don her wedding dress. It was a beautiful dress; cut square at the bodice and falling away in a soft flow to a short train. The dress itself was held up by thin spaghetti straps, but over it Sandra wore a little bolero. She had been to the hairdressers the previous day and wore her hair up in a tight French pleat. A veil, held in place with a little tiara completed her ensemble. She explained that she and Rosemary had agreed not to see each other's dresses until they met at the Registry Office. I didn't know what Rosemary was going to wear, but Sandra looked an absolute dream. She was extremely complimentary about my outfit also. At the appointed hour I helped Sandra into the car we had booked. I was conscious that all our neighbours were out to see our departure and must have been goggling at the sight of me in a skirt suit and heels! However, no-one said anything and I gritted my teeth and tried to shut the onlookers out of my mind. As we drove into Peterborough the two of us shared a couple of glasses of champagne that I had remembered to chill the night before. I asked Sandra if she was nervous. "Strangely enough, I am" she replied. "You would think that as Rosemary and I have been living together for a couple of years, this would just be some formality; but it isn't! I really feel like I am getting married and my only regret is that we cannot exchange vows in a church and commit our relationship into the hands of God. A Civil Partnership may give us the trappings of legality, but for me it cannot replace a Church Wedding." We arrived at the Registry Office to find that Rosemary and Mary were there before us. Rosemary looked just as stunning as Sandra in a dress with a tight-fitting, long-sleeved bodice flowing into a full skirt over hoped petticoats. Different from Sandra's dress, but equally beautiful. I could not help but notice that Mary looked ravishing in her slinky purple and white dress and, as she whispered in my ear, she thought I looked pretty special too. Our time slot came and Mary and I each took the arm of our respective lady and led her down the aisle to where the Registrar was waiting. Rosemary and Sandra had invited some thirty people to their ceremony and, true to their wishes, everyone, man and woman alike, was elegantly dressed in purple themed skirts and heels. Most were also wearing hats. The ceremony was quite short and before long the two girls were embracing as a legally united couple. The rest of us threw confetti as they exited the Registry Office - much to the obvious annoyance of the doorman, who, I guess, was responsible for sweeping it up! Photographs were taken in the pretty garden behind the Registry Office and then we all got back in cars and drove to Caf? Art, where Paul was ready with champagne and canap?s. The reception went off extremely well. As we had anticipated, my top floor made an excellent party room and I made a note to myself that here was another business opportunity for the future. Paul had laid on a sumptuous spread and the speeches, when they came, were short, funny, and to the point. Both Sandra and Rosemary spoke and I found tears welling in my eyes as I heard each of them express their love for the other. (Mary quietly passed me a lace trimmed handkerchief!) The two girls had decided not to hire a band, so there wasn't any dancing. Instead everyone was encouraged to move round different tables and talk to as many other guests as possible. I threw myself wholeheartedly into this and had a most interesting evening talking to Sandra and Rosemary's friends from before they moved to Tynewood Parva. By the end of the evening I was much better informed about gender and sexuality than I had been at the beginning. Funnily enough I was totally unselfconscious in my feminine finery. It just felt perfectly natural for my skirts to swirl around my nylon clad legs and for me to touch up my lipstick every time I visited the ladies toilet. I even found myself naturally crossing my legs whenever I sat down. The evening finally came to an end and we all gathered outside the gallery to wave Sandra and Rosemary off to their night in the bridal suite of the best 5* hotel in town. Eventually Mary and I made our way home and each kicked off our heels as we collapsed into armchairs. "My feet are killing me" I grumbled. "Welcome to the world of women!" was Mary's tart repost. "I think you have done brilliantly darling" she continued. "I know you only agreed to dress this way because you didn't want to let Sandra and Rosemary down and I am really proud of the way you carried it off. Did you enjoy yourself today?" "Funnily enough I did" I replied. "Most of the time I was totally unaware that I was dressed differently to what I am used to. I loved talking to Rosemary and Sandra's friends and I am much more understanding now about why some men need to cross-dress." We kissed and cuddled for a while on the sofa, during which time our outer garments were mysteriously removed; before retiring upstairs where "marital relations" were resumed!!! The next day was a Sunday, so Mary and I chilled out around the fire with a bottle of wine and the papers. I had been released for my corset and bra and was wearing boxers under a track suit. This was comfortable and sloppy for lounging around, but I found I missed the constraint and discipline of my female undergarments. On the Monday Mary packed our wedding outfits into a gag and took them off to be cleaned before returning them to stock in her shop. "I suppose we should throw the rest of your female things away" she mussed. "Leave it to me" I said, "I'll deal with them." I put the underclothes I had worn the previous day aside for washing, and carefully packed everything else away in an old suitcase, which I then stored in the loft. I had no intention of wearing dresses ever again, but...............you never know!!!!!