Mom's Bridal Gown Chapters 1-8 by: kzinter View Story Details Read Reviews, Last Review 03/05/25 ( 8 ) Add Review Rating: G Added: 08/16/2023 Complete: no Synopsis: The fi rst four expanded chapters from the vignettes fi rst published July 28, 2023 in "Mom's Gown 1-4" are included. John's mother is so happy he'll be wearing her wedding gown for his marriage ceremony. Sally, his fi anc é e, his happy to allow him to take on the female fi nery Categories: Crossdressing / TV Sweet / Sentimental Voluntary Keywords: Heterosexual Wedding Dress or Married Mom's Bridal Gown Chapters 1-8 By kzinter Moms Bridal Gown 1 I stood nervously, elegantly attired in my mother's bridal gown, waiting for my fi anc é e Sally. Mother just gushed over my appearance, "John you look wonderful. The gown fi ts you perfectly, and we settled on just the right hair style. I think for your wedding day a chapel length veil will be the ideal fi nishing touch." Yes, I'm John, I'm her son. Of course, I was nervous. In a very short time, my girlfriend was going to see me fully made up, my hair coifed and wearing a princess style wedding gown. Mother and I had argued over the best way to present myself to her. I was convinced a bit of advance discussion with Sally would be best. Mother espoused the view that, "The full impact of a surprise view of how stunningly gorgeous you look in your gown will be most effective. Being caught unaware, she'll have no preconceived notions. Her reaction will be honest. I really believe it's the best way to show her how lovely you look in a properly fi tted dress with appropriate makeup and styled hair." "Mother," I objected with a laugh. "You make it sound like it will be me fl ouncing down the aisle in this beautiful gown wearing full bridal makeup. Remember this dress is for Sally. I'm not modeling it to show her how I'll look on our wedding day. I'm just wearing it to convince her to drop her tomboy look for the day." Fictionmania Message Board New Stories Search Info Title Images "Of course, I know that my dear boy. You're just a temporary bride. Now please walk towards the wall and come back. I want to see your train, and how it looks when you turn." Mother was not easy to divert from her planned course of action. Right now, she wanted me to present the most convincingly elegant female appearance and a graceful walk and turn were part and parcel of my presentation. I'd been practicing in short skirts and high heels for some time now, but the fullness, the petticoats and the length of my gown presented challenges that could only be overcome with what is called in the theatre 'dress rehearsal.' I walked away in my most ladylike manner, careful to fl ip my hem forward with a gentle kick with each step. I'd rehearsed often enough in heels to have a pretty good feel for the graceful stride of a bride. If I wasn't daintily careful, my spike-heeled stilettos could easily catch the organza overskirt. While promenading for her inspection, I thought to myself, "How did I let myself get talked into this demonstration? I'm a grown man, and I look and feel like a young woman on her most special day. I'm quite conscious of, and enchanted by, the swirl of my petticoats, the soft fragrance of my glossy red lipstick, and the gentle swelling of my artfully enhanced bosom." During my musing, I had managed to traverse the length of the hall, turn with poise, and return with no mishap. Mother was beside herself with glee. A happy clapping accompanied her description. "John darling that was perfection. If you walk like that on your wedding day, everyone will be mesmerized. I wish I had thought of picking up a bouquet for you to carry when Sally sees you. Yes, white roses in a baby's breath accent wrap would be a stunning complement to your gown. They would mirror the embroidered appliques on your over skirt so dreamily. I'm sure we can have a satin ribbon bow added in the same shade as your gown." I heard her refer to 'your gown' and 'your wedding day' several times. I chose not to repeat my objection that this was for Sally, not me. She was so thrilled with my appearance and demeanor I decided to let her have her vision of me in her gown for the wedding. After all, what harm could there be in letting mother dream a little? I seem to have gone off topic. Why am I wearing this bridal trousseau? A while ago mother had been lamenting over Sally's insistence that she wasn't wearing an elaborate ball gown and might even consider a tuxedo. "Oh John, I've dreamed forever about seeing my wedding gown coming down the aisle at your wedding. I don't know what I'll do if we can't convince Sally to at least try it. I know she isn't exactly a girly girl, but for her wedding day I hoped she'd make an effort to express her feminine side." I wracked my brain for the best way to broach the subject with Sally. She's a formidable woman and does not take kindly to any attempt to give her direction. I had suggested, "Maybe we can have it modeled by someone else who doesn't wear skirts and dresses. That could show her how wonderful she could look and feel. Perhaps when she sees a boyish friend transformed into a feminine vision, she'll consider it." Mother had a curious, distracted look in her eye when she had said, "You know John, you and I are about the same size." And so it began. Moms Bridal Gown 2 Mom went to answer the door and I did a fi nal check of my hair and makeup. I was turning away from my lingering self-appreciation in the mirror, wondering if I had time to fetch my lipstick for a quick touch up, when Sally and mother entered. I froze. She gasped, then shrieked in delight, rushed over, and gave me a wonderful warm hug. "I could just kiss you John, but I don't want to smear your lipstick - right now." Still holding me close, Sally looked at mother with a quizzical expression that wordlessly said, "What and why?" "Isn't he gorgeous? John, please show Sally how you look when you're moving. Don't you just love how his gown fl ows so femininely and gracefully? Can't you imagine him in your arms spinning around the dance fl oor?" I tried to interrupt, "Mother, this is just a demonstration to show her how beautiful my gown is," but Sally stopped me as I realized I had said 'my gown.' "John, you're an overwhelming vision of womanly beauty. If you and your mother want you to wear her gown for our wedding, I would be happy to wait for you at the altar. I can only imagine how happy I'll be seeing her escort my enchanting husband down the aisle." I stuttered a bit trying to get out the explanation of my modeling effort, but it was to no avail. Mother beamed and responded before I could formulate a rebuttal, "Won't that be marvelous John? All your time in hose and heels, all our practice with various makeup styles and all your efforts to show the comportment of a feminine young woman will not have been wasted. In fact, now that we know Sally fully supports our wish for you to dress like a bride, we'll have to step up your training." I timidly asked, 'What do you mean - 'step up my training'?" Mother turned to Sally to respond, "You'll be alright if most of the time you see John, he'll be wearing everything from lipstick to lingerie and skirts to stilettos, won't you? If we want him to be a stunning bride, practice and preparation will be key." I tried to interject, "Mother, I'm sure Sally doesn't want to see her boyfriend in dresses and makeup all the time. I know she'd be quite embarrassed to have her date looking so ladylike and girlish. Her friends would be aghast at the thought that her fi anc é wore woman's clothing. Can you imagine how shocked they'd be after dinner seeing me at the table reapply my lipstick and primp my hair femininely? My bright red, or bold fuchsia nail polish - depending on the dress I wore - would scream that I was a sissy. Surely she doesn't want that?" She quashed that theory. "If every time I visit, or we go out, and John looks this pretty, I'll be happy to have him on my arm. I think seeing him in different fashions, different colors and a variety of lipsticks, nail polish and eye shadows will be thrilling. I never had much use for that kind of female embellishment myself, but I can appreciate it on others. And right now, I appreciate how lovely my John looks." At this, mother repeated her admonishment, "Then we'll just have to make sure our gorgeous boy always presents at his womanish best." Sally quickly added, "I suppose you two will be busy shopping for dresses for our engagement party, his bachelorette party and the rehearsal dinner?" Mom's Bridal Gown - 3 Sally and her mother were coming over to talk about the wedding plans - speci fi cally our intention to have me wear my mother's gown. Sally had warned me to dress femininely, and in something appropriate for a ladies' afternoon tea. Her mother told her, "I want to be sure his appearance in a bridal gown will not make the service a mockery." Mother and I selected a charming purple tea dress, a bit old fashioned and prim. I was also wearing an enchanting pill box hat with a net veil. I kept my nail polish simple, and wore a pinkish, almost fuchsia lipstick. Mother had pulled my hair back in a very demure chignon, and I only wore a simple pearl bracelet and earrings. I was the very picture of re fi ned ladylike elegance. Inside, I was nervous as a cat and couldn't stop primping and touching up my lipstick in the mirror waiting for our guests. After my fi nal touchup as the doorbell rang, I realized I'd forgotten my organza gloves. Mother had assured me, "John, a proper lady does not take tea without gloves." My black hat and gloves were exquisite complements to my simple black pumps. Mother answered the bell and left me to pose in the parlor. Other than my anxious rattling of the teacup and saucer, the afternoon could not have gone better. Sally beamed when she ushered her mother into the room, "Darling you look enchanting. Doesn't John just look ever so lovely mother?" "Oh, my goodness," she responded. "John honey, you are simply captivating. I've been so worried you'd look like some awful drag artist, and instead I fi nd a delightful ing é nue who just lights up the room with his smile." "Thank you, Mrs. Jones. That is so nice of you to say. I adore your dress, Barbara. I know Sally doesn't seem to have your fl air for fashion, but I love her anyway." I must admit I blushed excessively and was thrilled by her compliment. My foray into dresses that had started out to make my mother happy was becoming more and more enrapturing. Mother said, "I hate to interrupt this mutual admiration society, but we haven't offered our guests seats and beverages." She looked toward Sally and smiled, "That's not the kind of poor hostess behavior you'll want around your house, is it?" Sally responded, "Of course not, but he's so bewitchingly attractive I'm very likely to forgive any of his shortcomings as a hostess." After we fi nished our tea, mother, Barbara, and I refreshed our lipstick and powdered our noses. Sally was, happily for her, left out of these feminine rituals. As I replaced my compact mirror Barbara said, "I don't think I've ever asked any of Sally's gentlemen friends this question. What is the name of that luscious lipstick shade you're wearing?" I shared the name and assured her it would look lovely on her. At the end of our afternoon, there was no question that I'd be wearing my gown for the service. Barbara, her mother ended with, "You simply must let me throw you an engagement party. John, I know you and your mother will fi nd a dreamy cocktail dress for the event. I'm sure Sally wants to show off her gorgeous husband-to-be as soon as possible." Up until that moment it really hadn't hit me, I'd be in dresses and skirts for quite a few events. I blinked mentally and replied, "Yes mother, I'm sure we'll spend hours shopping, but it will be worth it to fi nd just the right dress for me." Barbara added on fi nal note while leaving, "I do have a rather special idea in mind for the wedding. Let me think about it, and we'll talk more." Moms Bridal Gown -4 I practiced walking in my bridal gown while we waited for my fi anc é e Sally and her mother Barbara. We'd had a delightful tea, and Barbara agreed I could be a beautiful groom. She simply adored my purple dress and veiled pill box hat. Mother had coached me carefully, and I remembered to freshen my lipstick after drinking. However, as the mother of the bride, she insisted, "I'd love to see John model his gown. I want to order the right fl owers and decorations." Everyone referred to 'his gown' and even I had started to call it 'my gown' in conversations. I had one awkward talk with my friend Robert where I inadvertently said, "Wait until you see my beautiful bridal gown." His quizzical expression caused me to quickly cover it up with, "I mean my mother's beautiful bridal gown. She's so happy it will be on display at my wedding." A few days ago, I asked mother, 'Why do I have to wear my gown again? I thought I would just be wearing it for the wedding. Do I really need to have my hair and makeup done?" "Now John," she'd replied. "Barbara is the mother of the bride, and she has certain privileges. Besides, we picked up those new earrings for you, and the tiara style veil piece. I want to see them altogether too. And you should be excited to make sure you present a lovely image for Sally on her wedding day. I think modeling your gown is a wonderful way to demonstrate your love." "I suppose you're right. But when I fi rst wore your lovely dress, it was just to convince Sally she should wear a gown for our wedding. Now I'm committed to fi nding a formal cocktail dress for the engagement party, and a casual dress for our rehearsal dinner." "I know it seems like a lot, John. But don't forget how happy you're making me. I thought I'd never get to see my gown worn for another wedding, and now I get to escort my beautiful boy down the aisle wearing my dress." Mom's Bridal Gown -5 I sat comfortably as mother fi nished my makeup. We had a full day planned to shop for my engagement party dress, and she wanted me to look my best. "Now John, ordinarily when you go shopping for dresses, you should wear neutral makeup. But today we're looking for an elegant tea length style, and I think a glamourous appearance is suitable." Mother was always instructive and intuitively understood what I needed to hear. In the back of my mind, there was a small manly voice objecting to all the surroundings of femininity. Each moment with mother diminished that masculine in fl uence and reinforced the correctness of a ladylike lifestyle for her son. "You're just so very pretty, and I love sharing this time with you." Between brush strokes of my glorious red lipstick, I managed to respond, "You're absolutely right, mother. I don't think a single boy shopping for a fancy dress with his mother would be caught dead in casual cosmetics." She smiled knowingly when I added, "All the really feminine boys understand that their mothers know what's best. An appreciation and enjoyment of ladylike behaviors, fashions and relationships takes time to develop properly. I'm so happy you're making the effort to help me adapt so seriously - and happily." Mother paused in my makeup application and shared her thoughts with me. "I remember wedding preparations with my mother. We developed a special closeness. I was entering a new stage in life as an adult woman, and our bond changed for the better. "I'm not an adult woman, or any kind of woman for that matter, but I do feel our relationship evolving in a positive manner. I'm very happy to have you teaching me the nuances of womanly behavior. I'm sure there are many other boys that would be overjoyed to have such a rapport with their mother enhanced by a shared pleasure in feminine activities." Mother smiled benevolently, "I remember as a teenager I was often at ends with my mother about appropriate skirt lengths and cosmetic colors and quantity. We seemed to argue all the time. Somehow everything changed as we worked together to make my wedding a joyous occasion." I laughed , "At least you and I have never had to disagree about a particularly strident shade of lipstick being too bold for me. Or my skirt showing a dangerously suggestive amount of thigh!" "Oh, my goodness," giggled mother. "Could you imagine my exchanges with other mothers dealing with their sons' outlandish dresses, bright lipsticks, bold jewelry, and bouffant hairdos? I can hear it now. 'Oh Beth, my boy John is such a trial. I keep trying to steer him towards dressing demurely and socially correct styles, but he's so fl ashy. I'm sure the girls must think him cheap and tawdry. He's sure to attract the wrong kind of attention.'" I responded with her same level of sarcasm, "I can imagine sashaying into the house on the arm of a 'tough girl' brazenly displaying public affection and leaving bright red lipstick prints on her cheek. I'm sure I'd have been teetering about in stilettos heels designed to shape my calves and buttocks into desirable curves." "You'd probably be wearing fi shnet hosiery too - you scamp! I'm sure after kissing her dramatically right in front of me - you'd retrieve your lipstick and coyly touch up your carmine smear. And you'd taunt me, saying, 'Isn't this shade of lipstick just too much mother? All the really cool boys are fl aunting Passion Red.' I'm sure I'd have been morti fi ed." Her feigned despair, with a limp wrist pressed delicately over her breasts was charming. "Mother, I'm sure I would have been such a burden for you. Even the thought of disappointing you in a fantasy is saddening. I'm so glad we're involved in this journey together. Your gentle instruction and direction in womanly wiles have made the prospect of wearing your bridal gown a joy. Boys are not usually as lucky as me; I'm anxious to proudly show my love for you and Sally as you escort me down the aisle dressed as you were on your wedding day. I want you and Sally to be thrilled as I take careful steps in what I now think of as my gown." Both of us were pleasantly misty eyed at that point. "Now don't you start crying young man. You'll spoil your mascara and eye liner and then I'll sob and we'll never get out of here. Today us mother and son dress shopping day, and I intend to revel in every minute of it." I dabbed gently at my eyes, careful not to disturb her artwork. "Yes of course mother. We must be all business like for this serious matter." My somber tone reduced us to laughter again. Mother dabbed at her eyes and replied, "Your wife-to-be will be so overjoyed to have a beautiful young man like you on her arm to announce your betrothal. Isn't it wonderful that Sally embraced our idea for you to wear my bridal gown?" I had not originally planned to be the one in the gown and hadn't thought of it as 'our' idea. But, after several modeling sessions in mother's full bridal regalia, I'd come to accept it as 'my gown.' I was fully immersed in wedding preparations, and the thought of today's shopping expedition was titillating. Sally and her mother had been so happy to see me properly out fi tted for a gorgeous wedding. Sally's long time reluctance to engage in any girly behaviors had always been a trial for her mother. When Sally fi rst saw me fully made up, with my hair done, wearing mother's gown, she had recognized a reprieve from her mother's recriminations about the opportunity to wear a gorgeous gown with all the feminine frippery. Her presumptive close after compliments galore was, 'and if you and your mother want you to wear her gown for our wedding, I would be happy to wait for you at the altar.' My expectation of initiating her desire to experience the joys of feeling like a princess was squashed. From that point forward, it was apparently settled that I'd be the princess in this fairytale. Mother had beamed when Sally seemed to con fi rm her dream of having her child wear her gown for the marriage ceremony. The fact that it was her son who would be the elegant apparition she would escort down the aisle accompanied by the sounds of the Wedding March was inconsequential. She (and me too if I'm perfectly honest) had enjoyed planning my bridal presentation to Sally. Choices of lingerie, makeup and hair styles had dominated our time together for weeks. On the day chosen to surprise Sally with what I thought would convince her to at least consider wearing a gown for our ceremony, I was as nervous as any bride. The upshot of the matter is that today mother and I are shopping for my dress for our engagement announcement party. I wore a simple lavender sweater and black skirt for our outing. My heels were an almost sensible three inch height, and I carried a small purse with a handle. My bag was of course fi lled with implements for womanly maintenance: lipstick, compact, brush and spare hosiery. I was not 100% con fi dent of my balance in stilettos and did not want a run in my stockings to prematurely end our day. Mother would never let us continue in public with a snag or tear. She'd repeatedly reminded me, "A lady does not display fl aws that can be easily remedied. Preparation, practice, and poise are the hallmarks of a well turned out appearance." I gayly carried my purse with the handle securely held near the crook of my elbow. I tried very carefully to keep my wrists close to my body. I expressed none of the fl amboyant displays that were so often considered by some misinformed people to be representative of ladylike behavior. Demure grace and elegant carriage were the qualities mother instilled in me. Mom's Bridal Gown -6 We hadn't been in the shop long, when I softly called out to mother, "Look at these charming shoes. They are a stunning shade of blue velvet. Don't you think they'd be perfect for my engagement party?" "John sweetie, how often do I have to tell you that your dress comes fi rst, then accessories? My dear boy will you ever learn?" A mother instructing her son on the fi ner points of shopping for women's clothing was not so common as to be ignored by onlookers. A few delicately arched brows on the female shoppers and staff were raised quizzically, but not hurtfully. An intrepid sales associate inquired tentatively, "Madam, may I help you and your 'son' with your selections? Is there a special event or style you have in mind? I'm sure this lovely boy will look beautiful in almost everything." Still holding the beguiling velvet pumps, I modestly bowed my head, a little embarrassed, when mother answered, "Thank you. My son John will be wearing my bridal gown for his wedding ceremony, and we need a cocktail dress for his engagement party." A few pleasantly delighted titters were heard throughout the shop. Several partially overheard phrases just thrilled me. "He's so pretty, I'm sure he'll be a lovely bride." "How wonderful for that frail boy to honor his mother by wearing her wedding dress." "His nails and lips are simply to die for. He appears to be a con fi dent young ing é nue looking forward to 'her' marriage ceremony." Ever since I'd worn that fetching netted pillbox hat for afternoon tea with Sally's mother, I'd been enamored of the style. I peered anxiously through the veil of the chapeau, that I just had to try on, to con fi rm the reactions around the room were in fact compliments, and not sarcasm. I'd worn a subtle, almost fuchsia lipstick for the tea gathering, but today I was wearing bold red lipstick and dramatically winged eyeliner. I was rewarded with nothing but smiles through the boldly colored lips of the other women in the room. Had I just thought 'other women' and therefore included myself? I was tacitly approved for membership in this delicious domain of femininity. Mom's Bridal Gown -7 The upscale ladies store was a bastion of ladylike charms I'd entered apprehensively that had transformed into a safe space where open arms welcomed me. The doors that had seemed like impenetrable barriers were now gilded enclosures for those of us blessed with girlish outlooks and appreciation of all that is feminine. I was home. "John, that dress and hat combination is charming, but perhaps it's better suited for a bridal shower, or your bachelor party." Mother's reassuring comment shook me from my reverie. I'd slipped into a retro inspired frock with a captivating French poodle broach. I switched out my pearl earring for dangling rhinestone jewelry but was still wearing my bracelet with three pearl strands. I was fi ddling with the hat netting and had to agree with her. "Mother, do you suppose a vintage themed bridal shower would be appropriate? I simply adore this dress, and I think it would be lovely for a casual gathering." It dawned on me then that I wasn't sure who would throw me a shower. Would I have best man, or maid of honor? Could I ask Robert to wear a bridesmaid's dress for the ceremony? I'm sure my confusion showed on my countenance. Mother sensed by my look of bewilderment that something suddenly troubled me. Her almost psychic awareness of my emotions prompted her to say, "I believe any number of our friends and family would be delighted to attend a vintage bridal shower for you. I can't be positive, but your best friend Robert would almost certainly dress appropriately. I'm sure his mother would be overjoyed at the opportunity to fi nd him a perfect dress for the shower. We frequently commiserated over having no daughters to share our womanly activities." The thought of Robert wearing a smashing circle skirted dress and stilettos brought a smile to my face. As I pondered the possibility, I remembered a recent conversation with Robert where I inadvertently used the phrase, 'wait until you see my beautiful bridal gown.' At the time I thought his quizzical expression was critical, but perhaps it was intrigue? The more I considered the likelihood of Robert standing up with me at the altar in a fetching bridesmaid's gown, the more likely it seemed. His mother was every bit as feminine and fastidious as mine. His physique and interests were similar to mine. Neither of us was into sports, either as participants or observers. Of course, we made an exception for fi gure skating and ice dancing. We aren't fanatics, but we've spent many hours enjoying both the male and female individual competitions, along with the couples. Our evaluations included breakdowns of costume design as well as cosmetics and hair styles. These were not usually considered the manliest of pursuits. Caught up in appreciation of the gorgeous out fi ts, more than once Robert or I would ask something like, "If you were wearing that dress, would you have selected that shade of lipstick? I think I'd have chosen more of violet shade for myself." The other might have responded, "I think you're right. I know for sure my nails would be polished in a much brighter shade. That color would be washed out in the lights and would not complement my dress at all." It had completely escaped my memory that we'd sometimes converse like a couple of female aspirants for skating glory in fabulous designs. I suppose it just seemed so natural to show an appreciation of all that went into their athleticism that included beauty and grace as essential components. Robert's willowy fi gure could easily be enhanced with the proper lingerie and support garments. Mother seems to have so much fun teaching me female demeanor and comportment; perhaps I would enjoy introducing Robert to the mysteries and magni fi cence of femaleness. I think we could have so much fun trying different lipsticks together and polishing each other's nails. Oh, and I do believe a slumber party would be ever so stimulating. We could wear matching baby doll nighties and set each other's hair in huge curlers, and experiment with outrageous makeup styles. I'm sure we'd collapse laughing into each other's arms. Then of course, disturbed by our rambunctious noise, I can almost hear mother shouting up, "You boys stop that nonsense. You've got to get your beauty sleep. I'll not have the two of you sleeping the day away tomorrow." With more giggling and conspiratorial winks, we'd reply, "Yes mother, right away." And then we'd unsuccessfully try to suppress our mirth. I convinced myself I would de fi nitely ask Robert to stand with me in full female mode for my marriage ceremony. I would also get him to host a bridal shower and to please, please make it a vintage theme. I know he'll swoon when he feels his fi rst dress cascade over his lingerie encased body. I'm sure he'll want oodles of stiff and crinkly petticoats. He just seems like that kind of boy. Observing my visage change from consternation to pleasant contemplation, mother was sure she'd prompted just the right thought. She was already making plans of how best to inform Robert's mother of the enchanting possibility of him fi lling an absent daughter's role for her. She was sure she'd be ecstatic. Mom's Bridal Gown -8 Shopping for my engagement party cocktail dress was exhilarating. The staff and clientele were welcoming, inquisitive and supportive. Mother beamed proudly as each dress and accessory I modeled was greeted with applause. Exiting the dressing room wearing each new concept was almost like walking the runway at a designer fashion show. Suggestions and feedback were considered carefully, and our discussions were punctuated with playful laughter and excited shrieks. At one point I literally held three dresses, two pairs of shoes and three hats simultaneously for review by my retinue. They were all so happily involved in my appearance, several women actually forgot to purchase anything for themselves. One particularly rewarding, intimate conversation went like this. "Pardon me John, but I've been hoping to get my son Josh into skirts and dresses for some time now. He's a bit delicate too, and I think he'd be better served in life if he embraced the same feminine lifestyle, you've so marvelously adapted to. Do you think perhaps we could arrange a meeting sometime where you could talk freely about the joys of girlish trappings?" Mother and I talked it over, and we agreed we'd fi nd a way to support her and her son Josh. I was wearing a casual skirt and blouse combination, freshening my lipstick, when another woman, about my age, told me, "Your pronounced ladylike demeanor, and obvious happiness in pursuit of your femininity, has me enthralled with the idea of introducing my husband to womanish pleasures. Thank you for your sincere willingness to satisfy your mother and your fi anc é e. You're inspirational." I almost dropped my lipstick and compact when the import of her statement sunk in. "That is so sweet of you to say. When I fi rst wore my mother's wedding dress, I'd been very unsure of my appearance and inclinations. It took some gentle nudges from mother and Sally, and Sally's mother, but I gradually came to terms with the wonderful opportunity that had been presented to me." I explained in some detail the sequence of events that led to my internal revelation. "Is it really delightful for a young man to be so ensconced in feminine trappings, surrounded by this league of woman and preparing to be presented publicly to friends and family dressed in a manner usually reserved for women? I know I'd love to see my darling husband refreshing his lipstick so coyly as you, but will he appreciate it?" I modestly replied, "Every person is different, but after a lifetime of indifference to what I always thought of as female nonsense, I'm constantly enchanted by each new occasion for expressing my latent womanish desires. Even the simple act of touching up an imagined smear of my lipstick is delightful. Rolling stockings up my legs and attaching them to garters is intoxicating. The clicking of my heels on hard fl oors is a sound that is musical and elating." "Oh my," she almost gasped. "Just imagining my husband engaging in any of those girlish behaviors has me on the edge of my seat. I absolutely will be teasing him with lipstick when I next reapply in his presence. Perhaps I'll apply it directly to his lips after a kiss leaves a bit of color behind. I could say, 'This shade looks so good on you!'" We chatted amiably for a few more minutes when mother and a staff member interrupted us. "John honey, I think we've found the perfect dress for you." My eyes lit up, I practically jumped from my seat and grabbed the dress for a mad dash to the fi tting room. While changing, mother joined me with a few accessories to complete the look. After zipping me up, we both said simultaneously, 'I think this is the one!' We inevitably settled on the tea length red cocktail dress made of a jacquard fabric that almost gleamed as I swayed gently. The puff shoulders of the short sleeves perfectly accentuated my dainty fi gure. The square bodice neckline was inviting, but not naughty. A rhinestone laden necklace and earrings were sophisticated, elegant accents. One of the staff had miraculously transformed my casual fl owing hairstyle. She subtly modi fi ed it into a re fi ned bun with delicate tendrils framing my face. When I stepped gayly from the fi tting room, there was no question in the minds of my entourage that this was my ideal dress. Gasps of, "He's stunning in that." "His ladylike grace and re fi nement are perfectly presented in that frock." 'I would never have thought to select a white beaded purse with tan strappy stilettos, but they are scrumptious together." I twirled slowly for my onlookers to view my ensemble from all angles. The long skirt fl owed gently around my legs and wrapped me with a feminine embrace when I stopped, and the languid folds of shimmering fabric draped delicately down my body. My already narrow waistline had been reduced further this morning when mother insisted that I wear a beautiful corset. "Some dresses you try may be sleeveless, and a bustier will provide a bit of bosom uplift. You don't want an errant bra strap ruining the image." As always in these matters of femininity, mother was right. My nipped waist combined with the slight bouffant of the skirt was fi gure enhancing and fl attering. My modest neckline would have been suitable without worry of showing bra straps, but the warm hug provided by the admittedly sexy undergarment was thrilling. My brightly polished toenails showed gleefully through the dainty straps of my heeled sandals. My pumps had hidden them, but now I was thrilled at the prospect of showing one more component of my commitment to a ladylike presence. I didn't think I could feel any more gloriously girlish, but just seeing the red color peeping about beneath the hem of my dress was captivating. Good story? Or room for improvement? Please review! Read Reviews Add Review Report Inappropriate Story The above work is the copyrighted material of the respective author. If you would like to archive it elsewhere, please contact the author and ask permission fi rst, unless noted otherwise in their story. For further details on Fictionmania's policy, please read this disclaimer