Fair Exchange free porn video

Fair Exchange - A complete bridal story by Kate Assheton Emma is one of the most gorgeous girls you could ever hope to meet. Pretty, kind-hearted, a lovely figure, she was, in my eyes at least, the perfect woman. That is why I asked her to marry me and that is why, when she said yes, I was the happiest guy in the world. There was, in my eyes, only one thing wrong with Emma. Try as I might, I could never persuade her to wear a skirt or a dress. "No. Gary," she would say. "I am much more comfortable in trousers and shorts. The modern woman doesn't need such things." Usually, very regretfully I have to admit, I accepted her excuses. She was, after all, the most wonderful woman in the world and this one blemish in her character made her that much more human and prevented me from raising her too high on a pedestal. However, the matter came to a head as we were discussing the wedding. 'You will be breaking your rule of no dresses on that day," I said. "Why should I?" said Emma. "If I won't wear dresses at any other time, what makes you think I would consent to wear flounces and frills and all the other frivolous trappings of the bride. I want the day to be the happiest of my life." "So do I," I said glumly. "But I had hoped just for once that you would wear a wedding dress." "Well, you are wrong," she said and there was a tension between us. We had never, up to this time, fallen out but now it looked like blowing up into a major row. I wasn't going to give up easily. "I had hoped," I said, "that a vision in white would walk up the aisle on my wedding day." "Well that vision in white won't be me," said Emma. "If you are so keen on a wedding dress why don't you wear it." "OK," I said, my frustration taking control of my tongue, "I will." That broke the tension. Emma turned to me and looked me straight between the eyes. "I bet you wouldn't," she said, smiling. "I bet I would," I said, still piqued. "OK," said Emma. "On our wedding day you can wear the wedding dress. I shall wear a white satin suit." Nothing more was said about this exchange for some time. We fixed our wedding day and one Thursday we arranged to go and see the vicar who was marrying us. We were ushered into his office and sat down to make the necessary arrangements. Everything was going well until the vicar started to talk about Emma's wedding dress right at the end of the meeting. "Oh, I'm not wearing a wedding dress," said Emma. "Gary is." To his credit the vicar took this in his stride. Emma explained what had happened so long ago in the past and the vicar turned to me. "And are you happy with this arrangement?" he asked. "I suppose so," I said, taken aback. "Well," said the vicar, "It will be a trifle unusual but I don't see any major objections. The only thing is that for legal reasons I will have to use your own names in the service and, of course, you will have to sign your own names on the register. But unless someone finds just cause or impediment on the grounds of you wearing the dress, I don't think there will be any difficulty. But I strongly advise you both to forewarn the guests." As we left the house Emma was laughing while I had a shaky feeling in my legs. The thought of wearing the wedding dress did not exactly worry me; in fact the idea intrigued me more than I was willing to admit. The problem was that this would be so public. "Of course, if you don't want to do it we can always go back to the vicar and call it all off," said Emma and I did not feel inclined to call her bluff. "No, it's OK," I said. "I'll wear the dress." Now, although Emma did not like the idea of wearing a big wedding dress herself, the thought of me wearing one really caught her imagination. She went off around all the wedding dress shops and came home with an armful of glossy brochures full of pictures of girls in fabulous gowns. "I have made an appointment for you to go to a couple of the shops to try on some dresses," she said. "The owners were quite happy about it though they suggested that you should present yourself as a woman. That way it will be easier to get a proper impression of how you will look in the wedding dress and be less embarrassing for other visitors to the shop." "But.." I began but Emma would hear of no objections. "I have arranged with Sandra to sort out a wig and some other bits and pieces," she said. "She will also do a makeover. I must admit I m intrigued to see how well you will present as a woman." Sandra was a friend of Emma, a beautician and hairdresser. "What if I look a fright?" I said. "If you look absolutely awful the bet is off," said Emma. "But somehow I don't think you will. You've got a lovely face, Gary, and nice legs." That was how we found ourselves at Sandra's salon the following Wednesday afternoon. I was apprehensive, I must admit. Something in me wanted me to look unattractive as a woman but I also knew that I would be bitterly disappointed if I did. We went into the shop and Sandra sat me down in a chair. She looked at my face and tutted. "Oh dear, Gary," she said. "We'll have to do something about that beard of yours. I can cover it today but I think you should have a few sessions of epilight treatment before the big day." She explained this process of beard removal. I took off my t-shirt and then she went to work on my face. I was intrigued and watched every move, learning the feminine mystery of making up. First she covered my chin and neck with a cover-up cream. She blended it well in and then applied a less dense foundation to the rest of my face. Then she set to work on my eyes. "You have good long lashes," she said as she worked on the mascara. "In fact you have very nice eyes which we can work on and make them a beautiful feature of your face." I was not displeased at this news and I felt that the signs were good as far as my passing as a girl went. I watched as Sandra applied the eyeliner and the eye shadow. My eyes certainly were beginning to look attractive. Then she applied blusher to my cheeks and a pink lip-gloss to my lips. Finally, when she was satisfied with the effect, she dusted my whole face with a fixing powder and stood back to admire the work. "Of course, we won't be able to tell properly until we get your wig on," she said. "And before we do that we had better put you in some female clothes." I sat in wide eyed silence as Sandra produced a bra, some frilly knickers, some light coloured tights, a pink silk blouse and a pink corded miniskirt. "Let me help you dress," said Emma, picking up the bra. I let her slip the straps over my shoulders before she fastened the catch at the back. Then Sandra passed her a pair of silicone breast enhancers and Emma carefully arranged them in the cups of the bra so that they filled them perfectly. She then had me remove my trousers and underpants before slipping a pair of tight feminine knickers on me and helping me tuck away my masculine parts. Then she slipped the blouse over my shoulders and asked me to fasten the buttons, which I did, finding to my surprise that they fastened the opposite way to male shirt buttons. Next she helped me put on the tights and finally she had me step into the miniskirt which she zipped up around my waist. It felt very strange but very relaxing to be dressed in these clothes. How odd I looked with my female body, clothes and face but male hair but this did not last for long. I sat down once more in the chair, this time with my back to the mirror, while Sandra produced a long blonde wig from a box. She instructed me to hold the soft fringe on my forehead while she slipped the cap over my head where it fitted snugly. Then, after she had brushed out the wig so that it fell around my face, she stood back and looked at me closely. A few minor adjustments to the wig and she was ready to let me see the new female me. Words cannot really do justice to my emotions when I saw myself transformed. I was gorgeous, far more attractive than I would have ever thought possible. My face, framed by my shoulder length blonde wig, was delightful. Sandra had done a fabulous job on my eyes and the make-up was perfect. My pink lips looked ready to be kissed. My body in its pink blouse and miniskirt was totally feminine. There was not a trace of the male to be seen and the curve of my breasts in their white bra was completely natural. My legs, as Emma had told me already, were shapely and when Sandra found a pair of white sandals with lowish heels the transformation was complete. Emma smiled and gave me a hug. "I won't kiss you, Garry," she said. "It might smudge your make-up. I must say you make a lovely girl." "We can't go on calling you Gary," said Sandra. "A girl like you needs a feminine name. I think I shall call you Gabby. That way you won't get too confused and Gabrielle is an angelic name." And so I became Gabby. Now it was time for me to go and try on some wedding dresses. When Emma made to come too Sandra stopped her. "No, Emma," she said. "It is the prerogative of the bride for her wedding gown to be a secret from her groom until he sees her in the church. We are not very busy in the shop so I will take her." Reluctantly Emma agreed and, in a way, I was glad. Now that I was committed to being the bride I wanted my dress to be a surprise. I wanted to do it properly. "Make sure that you get something very feminine then," were Emma's final words as we left the shop and climbed into Sandra's car. The feel of the breeze in my hair and on my tight-clad legs was totally unexpected and I felt very self-conscious as I came out on to the street of the town that I knew so well. On the drive into the city I enjoyed the sensation of my hair on my face and the thought that if anyone looked at me through the car window they would see a girl. At last we arrived at the shopping centre where Emma had made my first appointment at the shop of a national chain of bridal wear shops. The walk from the car park started off in trepidation but as I became accustomed to my new shape and I realised that no one was staring at me but that everyone was accepting me as a woman I began to relax. There was a very pretty girl in the shop trying on a wedding dress. She had come in with her mother and seemed overwhelmed by the experience; it was nothing compared with the anxiety that I felt. The manager of the shop, an attractive lady in her thirties came over to us. Sandra answered for me. "Emma made an appointment the other day for Gabby to try on some wedding dresses," she said. "Yes," said the manager looking baffled. "But she said something about the dress being for a man." "Gabby is really a man," said Sandra, smiling at the look of complete amazement on the woman's face. "Well I never," she said at last. "I would never have believed it. She looks so feminine. Are you sure?" "Yes," I said, relaxed myself now. "Emma must have told you about our little problem." "You had better take a look at the catalogue," said the manager, who had informed us that her name was Jo, handing me a copy and directing me to a chair where I sat with my legs crossed in a most demure and ladylike manner. I had seen the catalogue already at Emma's house and I knew those dresses very well. There were several that had always attracted my attention but now I was in a shop where these dresses could actually be produced and I could try them on. "What size are you?" asked Jo, taking a tape measure and putting it around me. "Hmm. Your waist is a bit thick but I think you should fit a 14. In any case, we will adjust it so that it fits you perfectly. Now, are there any dresses that you would like to try on." The thought made me unable to speak and I pointed to several dresses in the catalogue. "You ought to try on a really frilly one as well," said Sandra, looking at the catalogue over my shoulder and pointing to one that fitted the description. Jo said she had four of the dresses that I had chosen in my size and as she went to find them in the long racks that surrounded the shop I took stock of my surroundings. Everything was designed to make a romantic atmosphere. There were cream coloured roses in bowls on stands and the curtains and the thick carpet were a soft pink. Gentle music was playing in the background and there was a hushed silence in the boutique. Jo took the dresses from the racks and carried them into a large changing room where she hung them on a rail. "if you want any help, just call," she said as she ushered me into the room and closed the curtain. In the room there was a chair covered in pink satin and the dazzling white gowns hung there, waiting for me to put them on. For what seemed an age I sat on the chair unable to believe what was happening but at last I slipped off my white sandals and moved over to the dresses. I had only seen bridal gowns in catalogues before and they were impressive enough but now I was able to get my hands on the real thing, pull down the zip and put them on to my body, over may head as I had been instructed. I reached out to the first dress, hardly able to accept that this was really happening. The first dress was simple and straight. It had no sleeves and the neck was round and as I slipped it over my head the skirt fell down to my ankles caressing my thighs on the way. I was not used to back zips and I had to fiddle with this one to pull it up slowly over my body. The waist was tight but not impossibly so and soon I was totally zipped into my first wedding dress. The experience was wonderful - just to see myself in the mirror dressed in virginal white was one I will never forget. In a dream I walked through the curtain and into the boutique. The manager was speaking to another customer and hey both turned to look at me as I emerged. There I was, for all the world to see, dressed as a bride in a simple elegant gown. Sandra clapped softly and Jo came over to me as soon as she could break away from her other customer but I didn't mind the delay. I was enjoying the experience of walking around the shop in that long white dress. "You look gorgeous, Gabby," said Sandra, "but I don't think the dress is frilly enough for you-know-who. I think the idea is that you are dressed in something more flamboyant." Jo fiddled with the hem of the dress and told me how good I looked but then she said, "To complete the effect you really need some white court shoes. What size are you, Gabby?" She produced a pair of shoes and fitted them on to my feet. Then she had me parade around the shop, instructing me as to how a bride should walk. The other customer looked on admiring me. Then, having had a good look and feel of this dress I was sent into the changing room to try on the next dress. I slipped out of the lovely white dress, slipped off my shoes, laid the dress carefully on the chair and took the next dress from its hanger. I saw that this dress had long flowing sleeves and the skirt seemed to be made of many yards of floaty material and I had to burrow through it to get it on. I needed to straighten out my hair as soon as my head appeared trough the neck hole. Then I slipped my arms through the long soft sleeves and began to pull up the zip. This dress fitted me very well around the waist but the shoulders and the arms were rather tight. But the bodice was embroidered and the skirt flowed around my lower body and ended in a train that I had to manoeuvre as I walked out into the shop. It was wonderful to walk in this dress and I felt so feminine as it swirled around me and as the train dragged on the carpet. Turning was an interesting problem because I had to be very careful that I did not end up with the train in front of me. I felt very happy in this gorgeous dress with its square neck and the sleeves caressing my bare arms but I had two more dresses to try. As I returned to the changing room Jo came in with me carrying a long net petticoat. "I believe the next two dresses are fuller dresses," she said. "I will help you put them on if you like. They require a crinoline." And so I took of my long-sleeved dress and climbed into the petticoat, fastening it tightly around my waist. Then Jo hoisted the next dress over my head and arranged it carefully around the petticoat. This dress had a pretty scalloped neckline and small sleeves which Jo arranged to hide my bra straps. The petticoat tickled my legs as I moved but the effect was stunning and I glided into the shop on my high heels. "That is more like what is required," said Sandra with a note of admiration in my voice. "You really do look gorgeous in that dress, Gabby." Jo agreed and fussed around me tidying the skirt and instructing me to walk the length of the shop so that people passing in the shopping mall could admire the beautiful bride-to-be. I loved the dress but then I loved them all and I was really getting into the swing of this bridal business, feeling more and more in tune with my feminine appearance at every step I took. The final dress also had a full skirt but this one was much plainer. It fitted me perfectly and as Jo arranged the thin straps of the dress to cover my bra straps she told me that, if I had a strapless bra, this would be the dress that she would choose for me. It was certainly a magnificent dress and as my hands touched the smooth satin of the full skirt I felt really happy, as if this was the way I ought to be dressing. I kept that dress on for a long time. "I love the dress," said Sandra. "You should think very seriously about that one. The only thing is that it is a bit plain for you-know- who who would, I am certain, like to see you in something more frilly, more girlie." "I have just the dress," said Jo disappearing into the back of the boutique. She came out with a dress of shiny white satin which she carried into the changing room and ushered me in too. "This dress has been reduced," said Jo. "it is one of last year's designs but that does not make it any less fabulous." She lifted the plain dress over my shoulders and carefully laid it on the pile of dresses on the chair. Then she unzipped the new dress and lifted it over my head. The dress had short very frilly sleeves and I put my arms through them, feeling them tight around my upper arm. Then Jo pulled in the dress around me and started to pull up the zip arranging the dress over my wide petticoat. This dress was indeed a frilly one. Cascades of ruffles fell about my feet and the train was made of the same ruffled material. The puff sleeves were dramatic as was the lace around my neck. It certainly was a frilly feminine frock and I looked wonderful in it but somehow the shoulders were not quite right. They made my look too broad. It was decision time. The three of us sat in the shop, me still dressed in that frilly frock, and discussed what we had seen. "I love the fourth one you tried, Gabby," said Sandra and I had to agree. "Yes," I said. "If I had to chose one of those five dresses that would be the one I would choose." "The thing is that it is rather plain," said Sandra. "We could dress it up with a nice veil and head dress," said Jo. She went into the shop and found a full-length veil and a silver crown which she fixed into my hair so that the net veil flowed down over my bare arms. It added greatly to the effect and I nodded. "I am seriously thinking of that dress," I said, remembering that we had another appointment for trying on dresses at a bridal shop on the edge of the town. If there was nothing there I would think of returning for that dress. Jo helped me get out of the frilly frock and I pulled on the blouse and miniskirt thoughtfully. "You will make a lovely bride, Gabby," said Jo. "I have really enjoyed dressing you." And she gave me a big hug as we left the boutique. On our way to the other shop where I had an appointment, Sandra started quizzing me about my feelings about the dresses. "It was a lovely feeling wearing them all," I said. "I loved the one with the full skirt. The frilly one was a bit over the top." "You looked really good in them all, Gabby," she said. "But I think you will enjoy the dresses at the other shop even more. I know the lady who owns the shop. She is called Maggie and she gets dresses from American makers that are last year's models. In that way she can often offer incredible bargains. A lot of the dresses are strapless. What do you think about trying one of these, Gabby?" "I don't suppose it would be possible," I said, very interested but not very optimistic. "We can borrow a strapless bra from Maggie," said Sandra. "It won't do any harm. But here we are now. I shall have to park a little way up the road but you won't mind walking will you?" It so happened that the local primary school was just coming out and the pavements were full of mothers and children through whom I had to pass. I was scared, especially as I knew a few of the mums. But they did not recognise me; this was hardly surprising because I doubt if my own mother would have done so. We came to the bridal boutique and entered once more into a world of subdued femininity. This shop was more intimate than the one I had visited in town. The walls were lined with white wardrobes with sliding doors, some of which were open to display a tantalising glimpse of wedding finery. The model in the window was clad in the most wonderful confection of white lace and tulle with a long gossamer veil trailing down behind her. I looked at her wide-eyed. Maggie welcomed us into her shop, commenting on how lovely I looked. "Wait till you see her in some of your fabulous dresses," said Sandra, smiling. "And, by the way, do you have a strapless bra she could borrow. Size 38B." "Of course," said Maggie producing one from a drawer. I liked this lady from the outset; she made me feel very relaxed and I felt that she would give me all day if I needed it. "What kind of dress do you think you are looking for?" she asked me. "I don't know," I said, speaking in as soft and feminine way as I knew how. "Gabby wants something out of the ordinary," said Sandra. "Emma won't wear an extravagant gown so Gabby will have to make up for her lack of discernment." "What size are you, dear?" asked Maggie, taking a tape measure to me with out waiting for my reply. "American 12, I think. I have some lovely dresses in that size. I do like it when girls don't know exactly what they want. So many come to me with fixed ideas so that they can't find anything they like. I will get some dresses out for you to try, Gabby. Why don't you slip out of your clothes and put on your strapless bra and then I'll be ready for you." Sandra offered to help me put my bra on and came into the changing room. I took the garment from its packaging and marvelled at its snow- white laciness. Sandra undid the hooks and passed it round my chest. There was a thin band of rubber around the inside of the bra to prevent it from slipping and when she had arranged the silicone falsies inside the cups it felt very secure and comfortable. "Are you decent?" Maggie called and poked her head round the door. She was carrying a long white bag which she hung on the rail. I pulled down the zip and looked at the dress inside. It was made of heavy satin with lacy flowers all over it. Sandra slipped the dress off the hanger and pulled down the back zip. Then she passed the dress over my head. The dress was close fitting though with a wide bottom which Sandra informed me the Americans call a mermaid skirt and I could see why. The straps of the dress were very narrow and I slipped my arms through them. "It's a good thing you have a strapless bra, said Sandra as she pulled up the zip and I felt the dress tighten around my body. The fit was perfect - better than the fit of the dresses I had worn earlier. I could feel the smoothness of the material as I moved my body and the mermaid skirt swirled around my ankles. It felt delightful. "Come into the shop," called Maggie. "Take a look at yourself in the long mirror. Besides, I want to see you too." "Yes," she whispered as I came into view. "You look gorgeous, Gabby." I mentioned the fact that the dress seemed a perfect fit and Maggie explained that this as because the Americans cut their dresses more generously than the British.. She thought it was because they were, in general a different shape. I just revelled in the dress and I moved around the shop feeling every step I took against the tight skirt. "I love the tightness," I said. "I feel so..." "Feminine," finished Sandra, laughing. "You look it too, Gabby." "I've got another sheath in your size," said Maggie. "Do you want to try it on next. It's actually strapless so we can see if it will work." I went back into the changing room and peeled the gorgeous dress from my body. Maggie removed it and handed another long bag to Sandra. "Wow," she said, peeping into the bag. "I think you are going to love this next dress, Gabby." She took the dress from the bag and held it up on its hanger. "We will have to be very careful how we arrange this dress," said Sandra. We don't want the top to be too low and we don't want it to pull down your bra. So if I do up the zip, will you just hold the top where I tell you?" The dress was white satin but this one was covered entirely in lace. There was a band of lace around the top of the dress and I held this over my breasts. This dress was much tighter than the previous one I had worn. It fitted me like a second skin, right from just below my arms to below my knees from where it flowed out, like the previous dress, in a mermaid skirt. It was a wonderful feeling to have my shoulders completely bare so that my blonde hair fell on to them and caressed them. The hem of the dress trailed on the floor until I slipped on the white sandals that Maggie had provided. I was absolutely overwhelmed by the experience of this fabulous dress and when I saw myself in the mirror I refused to believe it was really me. "You look fabulous," said Maggie. She arranged the hem of my dress, fanning out the short train behind me. "You look completely feminine, more so than many of my genuine female clients." "Gabby is a genuine female," said Sandra, laughing. "At least she must be at heart. She wouldn't be able to pull it off otherwise." That made me think as I stood admiring the curves of my body in that gorgeous tight fitting dress. I had to admit to myself that I not only looked like a beautiful woman. I was also beginning to feel like one and that worried me for an instant. Still, I was secure in my relationship with Emma and as this was her idea I felt quite at peace. "Do you like strapless gowns?" asked Maggie. "I love them," I said, running my hands over my thighs and revelling in the sensation of the material on my skin. "I've another dress that will fit you," she said. "But this one has a very full skirt and you will need a petticoat with it." She went off into the shop and returned with a large bundle of net, just as I was reluctantly getting out of the tight lacy sheath dress. She helped me step into the garment and then pulled it up so that the elastic waist was tight about me. It fell around my feet in cascades of white net but the inner skirt was smooth and so my legs were spared the harshness of the skirt. I was intrigued as I waited for Maggie to return. She came in carrying a dress on a hanger. I caught a glimpse of the sheer volume of the dress and was aware of patterning on the material. Maggie had already pulled down the zip and now she passed the skirt with its yards of heavy satin material over my head. She arranged it over my petticoat and then pulled up the zip while I held the top of the bodice over my breasts as I had done earlier. The bodice was boned and felt very constraining on me but Maggie told me that this was how it was meant to be and that it would aid my posture.. She hooked the top of the zip shut, carefully arranged the skirt and then told me that I could go and look at myself. I was already aware of the black and silver embroidery on the skirt and bodice of my dress. Once more my shoulders were bare. But this time it was physically difficult to manoeuvre the dress out of the narrow door of the changing room. The weight of the skirt was heavy on my waist and the size of the skirt made movement very tricky. I wondered how I would feel if I had to go upstairs in this dress. I wondered - immodest thought - how I would manage if nature called. But then I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the many mirrors in the shop and stopped short. I looked magnificent, regal even. Of my feet there was no sign, just a great billowing skirt that glided over the floor as I walked. I felt completely unreal, a girl in a fantastic dream, not that I minded and not that I wanted to wake up. The skirt of the dress trailed behind me and turning was a long and deliberate process. In this dress I had to move elegantly because there was no choice. Sandra was full of enthusiasm. "Emma will be completely bowled over if you buy this dress," she said. "Gabby you look incredible. What does the dress feel like? How do you feel?" "Completely unreal," I said, putting my hands down by my side and resting them on the fabric. "I can hardly tell that there is a body under this skirt at all." Maggie smiled. She handed me a stole in the same material as the dress and showed me how to drape it around my arms. Then she stood back and nodded. "You would make a stunning bride in that dress, Gabby," she said and I had to agree. And yet I was not completely happy with that dress. It was beautiful and I felt amazing to be wearing it. But I wondered if it was quite right for the wedding. I expressed my doubts and Sandra saw my point. "It is certainly not a practical dress," she said. "I doubt whether you will be able to get down the aisle in it!" I paraded once more round the shop then very carefully went back into the changing room. The dress, with me in it, nearly filled all the space and there was barely room for Sandra to come in and unzip me and take of the dress. "What do you think about this dress?" asked Maggie coming in with another wedding gown. The moment I saw it I knew that this was the one that I would be wearing for the wedding and when I put it on my mind was made up almost instantly. This would be the dress for me and so I will not describe it now but save that for the wedding day itself. We all agreed that I had made the right choice. Maggie took a series of measurements so that she could alter the dress to make it fit me perfectly. Then we chose a tiara and long cathedral length veil which I wore with the dress in the shop. Sandra also insisted that I should buy a set of bridal underwear. Then, having removed the dress, arranged a date for a fitting and given Maggie a big hug, we left the shop. I was still in a dream. I had to keep pinching myself to make myself believe that what I had experienced had really happened. Had I really worn that strapless sheath, that magnificent embroidered gown? Had I really ordered for myself the most beautiful wedding dress I had ever seen? We drove home with me in my blouse and miniskirt in silence; I think we were both overwhelmed by the experience. We refused to say anything to Emma who very sportingly accepted our silence. The wedding was still six weeks away and there was a lot to do before then. First we had to inform our guests of what was happening and we were met with a number of different responses, from amused incredulity to outright hostility from two elderly aunts whom we had wondered about inviting in the first place. My mother was shocked at first but then she confided in me that she had always wanted a daughter and that now at least she would be mother of the bride. As for my father, he joked that if I had really been his daughter he would have had to pay for the whole wedding so he preferred me to do it the way I had done. An aunt told me that my uncle had had a desire to cross dress in the past. I got a bit of stick from some of the lads at work when they found out but it was not as bad as I had feared. I went for my first treatment for my beard on the day after my visit to the bridal boutiques. Sandra did a good job and though my face was red for a time, the soothing ointment she put on did its job and by the next morning there was no sign of anything. The treatment was very successful and by the time of the wedding there had been no beard growth for more than a week. I had my body completely waxed, which was painful but effective; the second visit found me with very little body hair at all. I went to visit Maggie to try on my dress and I loved it even more this time, especially as it was an almost perfect fit. There were some minor adjustments needed and it was delivered to Sandra's house on the Wednesday before the wedding because that was where I planned to leave from as the bride. Emma agreed to my going to stay with Sandra from the Thursday before the wedding for some final cosseting. Sandra had arranged for me to have a full pedicure which was very relaxing and a special body treatment that left my skin soft and supple. She also had her manicurist do my nails so that by the end of Thursday I had long pink acrylic nails on each of my fingers. I spent all the time as a girl and doing girlie things because, as Sandra said, I was going to have to be as convincing as possible on my wedding day. At last the great day dawned. I had not slept very well the night before because of the excitement but also because of the unfamiliarity of sleeping in a female nightie. Sandra woke me with a cup of tea. "It's time we started getting the bride ready for her big day," said Sandra. "Have a bath and use plenty of fragrant bath oil. Then spray yourself with the body spray that I have put out for you. Then, when you are ready, slip on the garment that I have put in a bag behind the door; don't peep until you are ready to wear it." I did as I was told and even dusted myself down with some of Sandra's powder, delighting in the feel of her large white powder puff. Then I opened the bag and found a strange garment. It was a false vagina and came complete with instructions. Intrigued, I slipped it on and arranged my penis in the tube provided. Then I stood back and was amazed at how effective it was. I called out to Sandra who came running. "It's rather good, isn't it?" she said. "I bought it from a friend who has a business looking after transvestites." "I suppose that is what I am," I said, not sure that I was terribly happy at the description and yet delighted at the thought of being the bride. I looked at the new transformed me and smiled ruefully. We went through to Sandra's make-up studio where she sat me before the mirror, naked apart from my female lower regions. First she put on my familiar long blonde wig. "We will fix your boobs in place with glue," said Sandra. "that way there will be no danger of them slipping and I think you will like the effect." She carefully attached a white pad to both sides of my chest with glue and then, when she was satisfied that they were in the right place and secure, she brought along a beautiful pair of silicone false breasts. These attached to Velcro on the front of the pads and very realistic they looked, complete with their pink nipples. "You must be as female as possible today, Gabby," said Sandra, giving my breasts their final adjustment. Then she brought out the white box that we had purchased at Maggie's boutique. It contained a white satin basque and a matching thong. I had not tried them since the first day I had gone to Maggie's and now that I had them on with my false boobs and vagina I was very impressed at how feminine I looked. I told Sandra and she laughed. "Slip on this negligee and we will get some breakfast," she said. I ate little. I was too excited and I felt so good in my basque and thong. I couldn't wait to get dressed but Sandra slowed me down. "The car won't be here for a couple of hours yet," she said. "We will take our time and enjoy every moment of the experience." She removed my wig and carefully cleansed my face. Then she inspected it in case any rogue hairs had appeared to mar my beauty. Finally she put on a pale foundation which she worked up into the roots of my own hair. Then, instead of putting my wig back on, she went into her bedroom and came back with another wig on a stand. It was identical to the one I had come to regard as Gabby's but it had been dressed so that it was more stylish. Sandra carefully arranged it on my head and teased it into shape. Then she passed me a pair of white gleaming stockings with lacy tops and told me to put them on, helping me to fasten them to the suspenders on the basque that passed below the waistband of my thong. Then she sat me down in the chair again. I am going to make up your face now," she said. "Then you can wear the negligee until it is time to put on your dress. That will give the make-up time to set." I was by now accustomed to the pleasure of having my face made up. Sandra was extra careful this time as she applied the pale pink blusher, the eyeliner, mascara, and eye shadow. She carefully painted my lips a pretty pale pink then stood back to admire her work. I too was impressed. She had made my face incredibly pretty, turning me into the classic English rose. I was very grateful. At last she was finished. She checked me over very carefully and then told me to put on the negligee once more. The next half hour passed incredibly slowly but at last the clock showed half past eleven. "OK, Gabby," said Sandra. "Take off the negligee and we will remove the straps from the basque. Then you can get into your dress." This was the moment that everything had been building up to and now that it was here I felt suddenly apprehensive. I suppose every girl feels the same on her wedding day as she tries to look her very best. But for me the desire to look my best was complicated. I knew that everyone was agog to see what sort of show I put on. Many people, I knew, were expecting something bizarre but that was not what I wanted. More than anything in the world I wanted to present myself as a stunningly beautiful feminine bride. I had something to prove to the guests and also to Emma. I shivered a bit as I stood in my basque which was now strapless and my thong, my blonde hair caressing my cheeks. Sandra brought me my petticoat. I slipped it over my legs and pulled the drawstring at the waist tight against my basque. The crinoline made a great tent on the floor so that I glided along beneath it. Now at last the moment had come. Now at last I was going to put on my wedding dress for real. There was a rustling as Sandra removed it from its bag. Then, very carefully so that it would derange my hair as little as possible, she dropped the heavy garment over my head. I felt faint with the pleasure of the sensation of that dress; I could scarcely believe that this beautiful gown was mine and that I was going to be seen by the whole world wearing it. The bodice was tight and covered with lace and the upper edge was scalloped. Thin white straps passed over my bare white shoulders. It held me in a snug embrace as Sandra did up the zip and fastened the hook and eye. I had worn the dress several times but only for trying on. As soon as I had finished it was taken off but now I was going to be in that dress until the time came for Emma and me to leave the reception. It was a perfect fit; Maggie had done an excellent job. The tulle skirt was held out by my crinoline so that it fell about me in a snow-white arc. And the lace trimmed gossamer overskirt floated over all, with a gap in front through which the layers of tulle beneath could be glimpsed. How feminine I felt and, as the mirror proved, how feminine I looked. This was surely a dream but one from which I did not wish to awaken. "The car will soon be here," said Sandra. "Let's get your veil fixed." She sat me on a stool, the petticoat and skirt of the dress thick beneath me, while she fixed a coronet of white cloth roses and pearls into my hair. Then very carefully she brought the veil around behind me and fixed it under the coronet with a comb. The veil was magnificent in its own right. It consisted of three layers of net with an embroidered border and the third layer flowed down to my feet and away behind me in a long train. Sandra arranged the net very carefully so that a layer of it fell in front of my face. I was in my own little bridal world. I knew I looked fabulous. The large black limousine arrived at the door, bringing my father who was giving me away, much to his amusement. He was smart in his dark suit with a violet corsage in his buttonhole. He rang the bell and Sandra let him in just as I was come downstairs with stately gait. His mouth fell open. "Is that really you?" he asked, taking in the white cascade of tulle and veil, the coronet of roses, the wafts of feminine perfume, in short, the totally feminine appearance of the bride who stood before him. I reassured him that it was indeed me and he expressed his surprise and admiration. "If I had thought I would have such a beautiful daughter to lead down the aisle," he said, "I would have brought you up as a girl." I smiled. "Then I wouldn't have been able to marry Emma," I said, picking up my bouquet of white and cream roses and cradling it in my arms as Sandra had shown me. I left the house on my father's arm, both of us feeling a little awkward at first but quickly adjusting to our new roles of father and daughter, and several of the neighbours came out to see us off for word had spread far and wide about what was happening. Getting into the car was tricky with all those yards of tulle and the veil about me but the driver was an old hand. "You look absolutely gorgeous," he said as he arranged my dress about me in the car as my father climbed in on the other side. "I would never have believed it possible. It is a privilege to drive such a beautiful bride to her wedding." I smiled and thanked him warmly for his compliments. The impact that I was making as a bride was better than I could ever have hoped for and I could not wait to get to the church and see Emma's reaction. As we drove along my father kept looking at me and shaking his head as if he could not believe that this beautiful girl was really his son and not some substitute put there at the last minute. When we arrived at the church there was a huge crowd gathered. Everyone had come to see this male bride, including cameramen from national papers as well as local ones and there was even a crew from the television station. I felt very exposed but at the same time very excited. On the long walk from the gate to the church I kept seeing faces of people I knew from work, even from school and all of them were wide-eyed with wonder at the beautiful girl I had become. The breeze was cool on my bare arms beneath the veil and it kept lifting the net in front of my face. I was radiantly happy, as a bride ought to be on her wedding day. Everyone's eyes were on me alone; as I was told afterwards they came out of curiosity but this soon turned to admiration as they saw how lovely I looked. They came to see a male dressed as a bride but very soon their eyes were only on the bride. Cameras clicked and whirred as countless lenses captured my arrival. My glowing smile beneath the veil was captured on countless films. The official photographer was waiting at the church door as was Sandra. "You look absolutely gorgeous, Gabby," said Sandra as she met me to make sure that my dress was perfect for my walk down the aisle to meet Emma. The photographer posed me and took dozens of pictures of me in my bridal gown on my own, with my father and also with Emma's sister Sarah who was my bridesmaid. She, unlike her sister, really loved wearing dresses and she had on a gorgeous strapless a line blue gown - very simple but very fetching. She had expressed doubt about our decision when she had first heard of it but now that she saw a beautiful bride I had become she was delighted to be my bridesmaid. She had a posy of pale blue flowers and together we made a very pretty picture. "You know that we are going to be in a national magazine," she said in my ear. This was the first I had heard of it and I was surprised though not at all disappointed. Now that I knew that I was such a lovely girl I was quite happy for all the world to see me on my big day. Their payment would certainly offset the considerable costs of our wedding. The vicar met us at the door. "You look stunning," he said. "I shall find it very difficult to think of you as a male." I smiled and at that moment the organ struck up the wedding march. "Here comes the Bride!" rang out through the church and I took my father's arm once more. The vicar led the way and my father and I followed with Sarah bringing up the rear. There was a rustling sound as everyone in the church turned to look at me. I was aware of a communal intake of breath as inquisitiveness changed to admiration and disbelief. The day was beautiful with sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows of the church as I began my stately progress up the aisle. My skirt was so full that there was barely room for my father and I to walk side by side. It was an unforgettable moment as I made my way up the church. I kept my eyes in front and took very short steps in my high heeled shoes. I was aware of a figure in the front of the church dressed in a white satin suit. As I approached Emma came out from her pew and looked towards me, her eyes lighting up as she took in my long veil and the gorgeous dress with its thin straps and floating panel of lace. As I arrived at the front of the church I handed my bouquet to Sarah and turned to face Emma. She looked absolutely stunning, no less feminine for her lack of a dress. I was aware of several people in the congregation taking out a handkerchief and mopping eyes that were wet with emotion. Helped by Sarah, I carefully removed the front layer of net from my veil so that Emma could see my beautifully made-up face. The wedding service went without a hitch; the vicar even got my male name right; it felt very strange, dressed as I was, to say "I Gary Peter." But there was no one who objected and as we went to sign the register all the witnesses commented on how gorgeous a couple we were. It was very strange when the vicar turned to us and said, "You may kiss your bride." It was not clear which one of us he was talking to but it did not matter. We came together in an embrace full of love and understanding. It was a perfect occasion. The service came to an end and Sarah gave me my bouquet back for the walk back out of the church. The organ played a trumpet tune, the flowers in the church glowed in the sun and I walked back down the aisle, this time on the arm of my wife. She kept whispering in my ear that she couldn't believe how beautiful I was and I kept reassuring her that I found her beautiful too. We were very happy. I was able to look at the members of the congregation now and I could see that they too were very happy. I was told several times afterwards that people felt privileged to be part of such an occasion. As for me, I just revelled in my long dress with its tight lacy bodice, thin shoulder straps and large full skirt, in my long veil, above all in the knowledge that I looked absolutely feminine. We can out of the church into the sunshine to be faced by a large crowd of the curious as well as many well-wishers. I spotted a couple of female figures who were obviously male and was delighted to see them. One of them came over to me and asked if I would be photographed with her. Emma insisted that they should both come over and they thanked her, saying that today had done wonders for the cause of transgendered people. The photographs at a wedding are always the least interesting part of the occasion when you are watching but I was in the midst of the action and I thoroughly enjoyed being posed with now this group, now that. I don?t think Emma was quite expecting the amount of attention that was lavished on me. And we had not only the official wedding photographer but also the one from the magazine, not to mention the press and bystanders. But eventually the photographs were finished and the photographers satisfied as far as that is possible for photographers to be satisfied. More pictures were taken as we went through the church gate and into the waiting car, an old open-topped Rolls which drove us slowly through the streets of the town to our reception. Many people turned to look at the beautiful bride and no one had eyes for Emma except for me. We arrived first at the hotel where the reception was to be though Emma?s sister and out parents were not far behind. The hotel was situated in the middle of parkland and was based on a grand Victorian building with wonderful fittings and a staircase that was perfect for descending in a gorgeous frock. Sandra, who had come on ahead of us, was ready to remove my veil and put my hair right. "You looked gorgeous," she told me as she brushed my wig so that it fell in soft waves around my face. "Don?t you agree, Emma?" "I told her so in the car," said Emma. "But I will tell you again, Gabby. You are the most perfect bride anyone could ever have. You almost make me want to put on a frock." I laughed and said, "I don?t want that. You would only upstage me." "I doubt it," said Emma. "It would take a high degree of beauty to look as good as you, Gabby." It was time for us to go down into the hall of the hotel where by now the guests had assembled. Although it is normal to greet them as they arrive, we had decided that the only way to use the facilities of this place was to make the grand entrance. "You will have to be very careful going down the stairs," said Sandra. "Your dress will try to trip you up and so you must take it one step at a time and go down in as stately a manner as possible. The dress will actually help you." She produced a white satin stole for me to wrap around my bare shoulders and showed me how to carry it. It was difficult to stop it slipping off especially when I took Emma?s arm but Sandra told me how to use the other hand to control the stole in as elegant a manner as possible. Then we left the suite that the hotel had provided for us and made our way to the top of the grand staircase. Now that I no longer had the veil trailing behind me I was able to appreciate better the feel of the full tulle skirt. To move in it was bliss, especially accompanied by Emma. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the end of the corridor and sighed happily. I looked gorgeous indeed. Emma smiled happily as I enjoyed the dress that most would have expected her to be wearing. As we approached the top of the great staircase the hubbub of talking below got louder. Sandra went on ahead to warn the guests and then we stepped on to the landing and began our slow and stately descent, Emma in her beautiful white satin suit and me in the most lovely bridal gown. The guests below burst into spontaneous applause as I set foot on the first step. It was hard, beneath that mass of tulle and lace, for my foot to find the stair. I made sure that it was secure before I moved my weight on to it and then began the descent with Emma at my side. Whether she would have been much help had I stumbled I do not know but she was not tested. I put a dainty toe on to the next step and the dress followed, swishing against the carpet and caressing my thighs beneath their while lacy stockings. The dress, my underwear, my shoes, the occasion all made moving like a female easier for me. Cameras flashed and there was an admiring murmur coming up to greet me. The official photographer asked the crowd to move away and sent us back up the stairs to make our descent again for her benefit. Going back up the stairs was more difficult than descending as my dress kept getting caught beneath my shoes and I had to lit the skirt and all its petticoats while letting my stole slip down over my lower arms. It was a wonderful experience. The photographer sent Sandra up to tidy up my skirts and then I made the descent again, this time for her alone. I had to make several descents because she wanted pictures of me alone as well as with Emma but I did not mind being the centre of attention. My lovely dress with its tight lacy bodice gave me such pleasure. I knew I was a stunningly beautiful bride. At last the photographs inside the hall were finished and we greeted our guests. I don?t know how many of the blokes who had come to see me make a fool of myself complimented me on my appearance ? often rather awkwardly because I know that many men find compliments difficult especially to a girl like me. The girls without fail told me how lovely I looked and several expressed their jealousy. A couple of my mates had a wisecrack to make. "You will want to be called miss at the office," said one of my friends but I reassured him that I was not miss now but a married woman. "Will you be using the ladies? loo?" asked another and his wife who was high up in the company turned to me and smiled. "If you want to be Gabby at work any time feel free," she said. "We need more attractive women around to balance these ugly men." That put him in his place. I was hugged and kissed by all the ladies and one or two of the men, forgetting that I was not a girl, also gave me a kiss. I did not mind though a couple of them blushed when they realised what they had done and went away muttering that they weren?t gay. One of the guys who was gay came to me and gave me a big hug. But the biggest surprise of all was when one of my closest colleagues came over to me as we finished our receiving of the guests and whispered in my ear, "You look gorgeous, Gabby. I hope you intend to keep dressing after today. If you do let me know. Keep it quiet but I am tv." I looked puzzled and he explained that he was transvestite and went to a club dressed as a woman every fortnight. I looked down at myself in that dress and thought that I would hate to lose the femininity I had acquired and that perhaps I should go to that club. I mentioned it to Emma who agreed wholeheartedly. "Now I have seen what you can become," she said, "I am perfectly happy to help you live out your feminine side. I?ll come out clubbing with you too. Though I insist that you save your masculine side for me." The wedding banquet was a magnificent affair though I was very conscious of my beautiful white dress and the danger of spilling food and drink on it. I slipped off my stole and revelled in the feeling of having bare shoulders. Sitting in that dress was something of an achievement. Of course, I was not called upon to make the customary bridegroom?s speech; Emma did that, complimenting me on my beauty and saying that she had never expected to marry someone so stunningly attractive. Several comments were made by the best man and my father, who had to make the speech on behalf of his new daughter so unexpectedly, rose to the occasion magnificently. I was so happy. It was a pleasure to rise to talk to my guests and feel them responding to me as a woman. It was wonderful cutting the cake with Emma alongside me, obviously proud to be my consort. The dancing after the meal was another experience I shall never forget. I was obviously the centre of attention ? what bride is not on her wedding day? ? and many men asked me to dance as well as women. In fact on one occasion when the hotel DJ put in a waltz for the sake of our older guests I was immediately seized upon by one of Emma?s male cousins and steered most expertly around the floor. He held me as he would any girl and assured me that I was a far better dancer than Emma. He told me I was more beautiful too but in this I had to disagree. But it was wonderful to feel him enveloped in the tulle of my wonderful skirt as we whirled around the floor in close embrace. Emma and I were to leave the party at eleven to go to our honeymoon suite in another hotel nearby. As the time approached I felt more and more reluctant to part with my lovely wedding dress and yet I wanted so much to have Emma to myself. She smiled as she led me away to get changed. "I have one more surprise for you, Gabby," she said. Sandra came with us to help me out of my dress. She undid the zip and slowly the wonderful gown slipped to the floor. "You will have to take your bridal underwear off," she said. "You can?t go on your honeymoon in that." And so I took off my stockings, my g-string and my strapless basque, still reluctantly. "Now," said Emma. "You don?t want to give up being Gabby do you. That is perfectly plain so we have arranged one last treat for you." Sandra produced a gorgeous red strapless bra from a box and helped me put it on. Then she produced matching briefs and a pair of shiny tights. I was dumbfounded as I put them on. What was going to happen next? Finally Sandra went to the wardrobe and took out a most gorgeous red silk dress with matching silk coat. She told me to put it on and then she pulled up the zip. The dress was so soft and smooth and tight fitting. Emma produced a pair of matching red shoes and I slipped those on then went to the mirror. I looked so elegant, so classically feminine and I smiled with pleasure. Emma wore a mid grey trouser suit that showed off her figure perfectly and as she took my arm she whispered in my ear, "Now that we are married I don?t want to lose the beautiful bride I had on our wedding day. I hope you will always find room for Gabby." "Oh yes," I breathed as we made our way back to say our farewells. "Thank you, Emma." "So you were happy with the exchange of roles?" she asked, giving me a kiss. "Oh Emma," I said. "I couldn?t imagine a fairer exchange."