NOTICE: Although predicated on true events, this story is a work of fiction. The names or persons depicted herein are fictional and any similarity in name or circumstance is coincidental. This story deals with crossdressing. If you find this topic disturbing, if you are under the age of 18 or if it is illegal for you to read adult material, stop reading here. The images contained herein are intended to be fictionalized representations of the events being described and are not intended to imply the characters in the pictures have actually engaged in, or are the subjects of, the acts or events described.
It only took me a few minutes to reach Diane's. This time I got lucky and there was a parking place near the entrance, down a few rows so that no one in the shop could see which car I got out of or make note of my license number. Call me paranoid, but caution in a part time girl is no vice, I believe.
I knew that I had an appointment and that Diane, or who ever would be helping me, would be aware that I was not your typical girl. That didn't stop my heart from beating furiously as I neared the entrance to the boutique. My nerves were on edge and knees weak with the same frightening expectation experienced when your roller coaster car reaches the pinnacle of its climb and you know that you are about to drop precipitously. My eyes darted about, looking for any possible threat. After all these years and all of the excursions, you'd think I'd get used to being out as Noreen. Yet, as I'd just experienced at Kohl's, every adventure is new and filled with its own risks ... its own benefits ... its own terrifying thrills.
Upon approaching the door, I tried looking into the windows to see the layout of the shop and whether it was safe. I couldn't see enough to really make a determination. My hand hesitated as it reached for the handle that would irrevocably commit me to a new adventure. With a final gulp I grasped the knob and twisted. The door opened almost effortlessly and, almost before I realized what had happened, I stood inside Diane's Bridal Boutique. The tiny tinkle of the bell over the door which announced my presence sounded to my fearful mind more like a clanging alarm bell than a delicate welcome it was intended to be.
Diane's was not a large shop and it was surprisingly crowded with young women rummaging through gowns, shuffling in and out of the fitting rooms or twirling this way and that on pedestals in front of large mirrors. The carpeting was pink ... well that was as close as I could describe it. It was thick, soft and quiet, adding warmth to the rectangular shaped shop. Track lights on the ceiling cast a subdued and romantic hue while several larger lights trained on a raised platform in front of an entire wall of mirrors offered brides-to-be a spotlight under which to admire their gowns and be admired. Several brides-to-be were modeling dresses and discussing their pros and cons with friends and mothers. One bride was trying on veils with the assistance of one of the staff. Toward the end of these mirrors was a small entrance with large green drapes pulled back. I correctly guessed that it was the entrance to the dressing area from the fact the brides and bridesmaids were entering and exiting on a regular basis. Along two walls were racks and racks of white gowns, with a few pastel gowns intermingled here and there. Off to the right were several racks of brightly, one could almost say garishly, colored gowns for bridesmaids.
The décor was secondary to the atmosphere that seemed to permeate the shop. The air was charged with tense excitement as girls quarreled good-naturedly with mothers or friends over a particular dress. Every girl seemed in awe of the dresses that surrounded her. The majesty of the gowns not only magnified the beauty of she who wore it, but underscored the momentous occasion for which it was designed! More than one girl was crying as she gazed at herself in the most beautiful dress she'd ever worn, with the sudden realization that this dress would usher her into a new life.
Yet, there was also an almost warm camaraderie shared by the garrulous and eloquent brides-to-be as they freely complimented and encouraged each other as they modeled dresses. It was similar to the giddy girlishness I had witnessed at Kohl's but far more complex and serious, if not any more mature. The camaraderie helped to dissipate the frustrated desperation in many of the addled brides-to-be as that perfect dress eluded them. This was definitely unexplored, enticing and exciting territory. As a guy I probably wouldn't have noticed all this or appreciated the nuances of what I was seeing. As Noreen, however, the entire setting was intoxicating and I couldn't wait to imbibe!
I made my way tentatively into the shop. I hadn't gotten far when I heard a soft voice come up from behind. "May I help you?" I turned and saw a woman about my age with a warm, inviting smile. She stood about five foot five inches tall, just a little shorter than me. She was casually dressed in comfortable fitting slacks and a loose fitting white blouse. A cloth tape was draped around her neck. She had a cute, if somewhat average, figure. There was nothing whatsoever threatening in the manner in which she addressed me and I instantly liked her. I returned her smile and answered, "Hi, I'm Noreen Wilson. I have an appointment to look for a wedding gown."
The woman looked a little surprised as she examined me more closely. Then she held out her hand warmly.
"Why of course Noreen. I'm so pleased to meet you. I'm Diane." I shook her hand in a delicate womanly fashion. "I must say you look lovely this afternoon. That outfit is so cute!"
Her tone seemed to imply that she had been expecting something quite different from what she was seeing. I blushed girlishly at the compliment and thanked her.
"I'll be helping you this afternoon, although we use a team concept here. We like to make our brides feel like they're the most important person in our shop, so don't be surprised if others of our staff work with you before the day is over. You're a little early. Why don't we get you registered, while I finish up with this other girl."
She led me over to a small, plain table in the front of the store. Another young bride was sitting in one of two overstuffed chairs filling out a form. The girl was very casually dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I suddenly became concerned that perhaps I'd overdressed after all. Looking around at others in the shop, however, I relaxed a little since there were many girls and women wearing skirts and dressed more formally than me. Comfort seemed to be the fashion mandate.
Diane handed me a form and a pen and sat me in the chair next to the girl. I consciously smoothed my skirt as I sat down, more to mask the nervousness I felt being so close to another girl than for modesty. Yet, the stranger merely looked over and acknowledged me with a shy "hi" before returning to her writing.
I looked at the form. It wasn't anything particularly complicated. They wanted to know my address and phone number, the name of the groom, the wedding date, and whether I'd decided on the type of wedding I was going to have. The rest of the form was for the staff to make notes and take orders. I began to filling in the spaces. Needless to say most of the information I provided was as fanciful as my background story itself.
As I was writing, I noticed that the girl next to me was stealing glances in my direction. We completed our forms at almost the same time and stood up to look for our respective assigned assistants.
"Are you getting married too?" she suddenly asked.
Her tone had more than a casual curiosity to it. I couldn't tell if it stemmed from the fact that I'd been 'read' or perhaps because I was older than the other brides-to-be.
"Uh ... sort of," I replied tentatively. The girl looked more confused.
"I'm already married," I explained. "My (I almost slipped and said wife) ... uh ... we're renewing our vows," I explained cryptically, not wanting to reveal the whole story to this stranger.
"That's so cool," the girl responded. "It's nice that you and your husband can afford to do that. Right now I'd be happy to find one dress I can afford!"
We laughed. Just then her consultant came over. Keeping with what Diane had said earlier, she introduced herself to me before ushering the other girl toward the wedding dresses. Neither one of them seemed to detect I wasn't just another bride-to-be, or if they did they didn't let on.
This friendly encounter relaxed me considerably. Diane came over and I handed her my form. As she read it a smile pursed her lips.
"So you said on the phone that you're renewing your wedding vows," she commented with a professional tone.
"Yeah," I replied a little nervously.
"We have a lot of ladies who do that. I must say you're situation is a bit ... uh ... different though." She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. "You're not the first guy we've had in here ... uh ... Noreen. We've had two others like you. They were considerably older than you and I must say not nearly as attractive." She laughed while recalling the events. "And they really didn't have a lick of fashion sense, especially for ... uh ... women their age. You could tell they were guys a mile away because they tried to dress like teenyboppers in the fifties. When I first saw you, however, I had to do a double take. I really didn't realize you were a guy. That outfit is both cute on you and appropriate."
She paused. "Okay, here's the deal I make with ... you ... uh ... girls. Upon entering my store, as far as I and my staff are concerned, you're just another bride-to-be looking for a wedding dress and we will treat you as such. But, if any customers detect you aren't just another gal or you behave in any way different than we come to expect our brides to act we will treat you as a guy. That means if there's any ogling or other un-woman-like behavior in the dressing room you'll be asked to leave. Okay?"
"I understand, Diane. I really appreciate you're letting me shop here."
She smiled warmly and laughed. "You're a bride until proven otherwise; why wouldn't I?" She looked again at my form. "Ooooh, I see the ceremony is coming up rather quickly."
I nodded. "Yeah, my wife and I have been talking about renewing our vows for a several months, but she just recently decided that I could be the bride this time." In an almost instinctive apologetic tone, I explained, "She didn't know about Noreen when we got married."
Diane shot me a frown that quickly dissipated. "Well ... I see," she replied with a tone that hinted that she didn't see at all. Yet, she maintained her professional and nonjudgmental demeanor. "I bet you're excited to be a bride!"
"Oooh, yes," I said, a slight tremble in my voice.
She chortled good-naturedly. "Now, as I recall you were interested in a P.C. Mary gown. I can't remember which one."
I pulled out my Modern Bride magazine and the two of us began to look over my various selections. She frowned when I showed the P.C. Mary gown I was really interested in.
"We carry a lot of P.C. Mary gowns, Noreen, but we don't have that particular dress in stock. Ordinarily it'd be no problem special ordering the dress, but you don't have enough time before your ceremony."
Seeing my disappointment she quickly added, "Don't worry. We have a lot of gowns and several very similar to that one. I may have one or two ideas as well for other dresses that I think would look sensational on you. I do agree that you want to stay away from a sheath. You have a relatively narrow figure already and I think you're going to want to have something a little fuller on the bottom to give you more shape. As to whether an off the shoulder or strapless style will be flattering on you we'll just have to see."
She lead me over to a large alcove that had several racks with wedding dresses.
"These are our 'off-the-floor' gowns, Noreen. We don't usually sell our display gowns until after the season so these are really last season's designs. Don't worry though! These dresses are still very fashionable and no one at your ceremony will be able to tell that your dress is last season's design, I promise. Wedding gown styles don't change all that drastically from year to year, especially when you stick with a more traditional look like you seem to want."
Of course, I couldn't have cared less whether I was trying on ten-year old dresses! I was just thrilled to be here at all!
"I think your size will be over here." Diane continued, leading me past a gal who was also rummaging through the gowns. "Wedding dress sizes can be kinda funky, so don't be afraid to try a size larger or smaller. I'll let you browse for a little bit. I or one of our other girls will be over in a minute to set you up in a room."
Left alone, I joined a girl who was searching through the sea of plastic and satin in search of a dress. I just mimicked her actions.
"Wow, there're some real bargains here," she said to me.
"Yeah," I said, fearful of being drawn into too much of a conversation. She wasn't put off.
"I wish I had more time to shop," she volunteered, "But, my fiancée is in the military and he's being stationed overseas unexpectedly. So we're getting married in three weeks. What about you?"
There was no suspicion in her question and I knew I had to answer to avoid creating any. I replied, "Oh, my ... (I almost said my wife again) ... husband and I decided to renew our vows for our tenth wedding anniversary which is coming up in a few weeks. Unfortunately, he didn't agree to it until a couple of days ago so I have to scurry to find a dress."
She laughed. "Men can be such twerps about that sort of thing," she replied. "Why don't you just wear your original dress?"
I hadn't anticipated that question and furiously thought about a plausible answer. "Well ... we didn't have a lot of money when we were married so I never had a really pretty dress. That was why I wanted to renew our vows so I could have a more formal ceremony than I had the first time. I mean I've been thinking about what I'd like for my ceremony for months, but couldn't really act on it until now."
"Well, I guess we're in the same boat then," she giggled. "I'm Mary by the way," she said extending her hand.
"I'm Noreen," I replied taking her hand.
"Ooooh I love your nails, Noreen. That's such a pretty color!"
"Thanks," I replied, warming a little to the conversation. "I just had them done at Merle Norman's over on Fischer Avenue."
We both returned to our browsing. Once again, if Mary detected the nervousness in my voice or its masculine quality, she didn't show it. A couple of moments later, she turned to me again.
"Hey Noreen, what do you think of this one on me?" she asked holding up a stunning gown to herself.
"Oooo that's so pretty," I said.
"Yeah, that's the problem," she said with a laugh. "They're all so pretty! It's impossible to make up your mind without trying dozens on."
Having relaxed somewhat during our repartee, I responded gaily, "Well, we could be doing worse things!" We both shared a laugh and returned to our respective searches.
I soon found out exactly what my new friend meant. It seemed like every dress I saw was prettier than the previous one. Like most part time girls I found myself drawn to the frillier dresses, those with ruffles, startling feminine beading or girlish bows and lace. As I selected a dress I'd like to try on I hung it one of the rods that were scattered throughout the store so a bride didn't have to lug dresses around while she shopped. I quickly learned that these rods were more than a mere convenience. The gowns were both bulky and heavy, making it almost impossible for a girl to carry more than a couple at a time. I had selected about ten dresses when Diane came over.
"I see you've been busy Noreen," she said as she began to thumb through the dresses. She picked one of the frillier dresses and started to put it back on the rack. "I don't think this one's quite right for you Noreen," she said. When I whined that it was so pretty she smiled at me indulgently and almost whispered, "It's ... uh ... a little too young for you dear. This dress is more suited to a girl in her twenties with a really petite figure, not a woman our age in our thirties. This one's the same thing," she concluded putting another dress back on the rack. I was obviously disappointed at not being allowed to try on the frilly garments, but I deferred to Diane's expertise. Besides the dresses she left were plenty ornate and feminine.
Laden with seven dresses, Diane began heading toward the fitting rooms. "We can get some more dresses if none of these work," she explained as she walked, "but I think this will give us a good idea of what works on you and what doesn't."
She led me through the parted green curtains into what was, in my eyes, a sanctuary. I was no stranger to women's dressing rooms; I'd just tried on skimpy swimsuits at Kohl's. Over the years I'd been in women's locker rooms and even been fitted for bras and breast forms in women's lingerie boutiques, one of which had a "communal" dressing area. (Alas those are for future stories.) This, however, was different. This was a bride's dressing room! It was a 'Mecca' of sorts that every girl longs one day to visit, and here I was! What made it even more special, if not momentous, was that I wasn't sneaking in! I wasn't hidden. I was being ushered in by another woman willing, if not eager, to help me find just that perfect dress! As Diane promised earlier I was just another bride! I was in heaven and almost swooned.
The dressing room was a large rectangular space that was divided into two areas. Upon first entering you were confronted by seven large cubicles, each with an almost Salmon-colored curtain similar to the color of the carpeting in the main salon. Most of the curtains were closed and rustling, signifying the cubicles were occupied. A couple had their curtains partially opened and young women were being helped into dresses. It seemed that the curtains were really intended more for décor than privacy, because the women seemed unconcerned that they remain closed, at least totally, during the disrobing process. They certainly didn't expect to be seen by a guy!
As I looked on discreetly at a girl standing with her bra clearly visible, I was a little surprised Diane had so casually allowed me access to this area. I also remembered her recently delivered prime directive: I was expected me to act like a woman at all times. I guiltily averted my gaze and stepped back into the role of Noreen ... a woman who presumably had seen and worn bras since she was a teenaged girl and seen other women similarly attired to the point that the only fascination that lingerie held was in how it might look on me, not how it looked on another gal. Try as I might, however, I couldn't keep my clitty from pulsing uncomfortably in my panties.
At the far side of the dressing area was a smaller, more discrete space separated from the rest of the area by a half wall. Here there were only two cubicles and a single smaller pedestal and mirror. This area was less frenetic than where we were, but it was still bustling with activity (no pun intended). I smirked at the sight of a woman with her head buried beneath a giggling bride who was holding up her dress to give the woman access to something. I correctly surmised that this area was for alterations and final fittings.
Diane entered one of the empty cubicles and began hanging my dresses on rods placed high on one of the walls so the dresses hung freely without touching the ground. When the dresses were neatly arranged, she stepped out of the cubicle and held the curtain for me to enter. Inside, the cubicle was much larger than any dressing room I'd previously been in. It was softly but adequately lit and had a large mirror along one side. A small settee was placed along one wall and another ornate chair was placed along another. I surmised that the furniture was for mothers or maids of honor to sit while the bride-to-be tried on dresses. I was a little saddened that I didn't have another girl with whom to share this experience or even that my wife didn't have the capacity to appreciate Noreen. I didn't really blame her; I understood. Still, I think Noreen would have so much to share with her!
My momentary melancholy was interrupted with a cheerful, "Well Noreen let's get you into these pretty dresses shall we? Why don't you undress while I grab you a petticoat and a bra. What size bra do you wear?
I told her I wore a 36C.
"Oh good. I was afraid we might not have anything in your size." She looked at me. "You know Noreen," she said in a low voice, "I was expecting you to be ... uh ... well a little larger. The other girls like you were plus-sized. You're almost petite. And quite feminine too."
I blushed girlishly. This was the third time Diane had complimented me. I wasn't really sure what to say so I just mumbled an embarrassed, but inwardly ecstatic, thank you.
Diane briskly left the cubicle and I removed my jacket and hung it on one of several silk hangers that I presumed were for that purpose. I then crossed my arms in the manner women do when removing a pull over top and lifted it to my breasts ... and stopped This was the moment of truth. Was I really prepared to strip down to my underwear in such close proximity to so many bubbly, nubile brides-to-be? Was I really prepared to let another woman see me in such an exposed and vulnerable state? Would Diane still treat me as just another nervous bride-to-be or would she know instantly that my nervousness arose from the stripping of the thin façade that perpetuated my masquerade? Could Diane's kindness itself be a masquerade? Could she at this very moment of my vulnerability be calling the cops?
All of these thoughts and more were percolating furiously in my head as my trembling hands lifted my blouse out and over my breasts revealing my pretty white lace bra. Standing there in just my bra and skirt, I told myself for the dozenth time that day that I really did have a fairly feminine figure. Certainly my experiences just a few moments ago confirmed my ability to pass. Still, it was an illusion, I knew. With each discarded garment, however, the illusion would be exposed, the magic found fraudulent.
Then I realized that there was an alternative: I COULD ACT LIKE A WOMAN ... like I BELONGED! I could accept, like millions of other women, that my figure has flaws that I could do nothing about my body. Being feminine means more than wearing a sexy skirt or top. Femininity is a demeanor. Noreen was as feminine as any other girl and need not be ashamed! This mental pep talk gave me added resolve and, before I could chicken out, I unbuttoned my skirt and began to lower it to the floor exposing my panties and my too small butt, hoping that my tuck job served its purpose.
That is how Diane found me moments later when she parted the curtains in a matter of fact manner and entered with a petticoat in one hand and a low-back strapless bra in the other. She stopped when she saw me and I immediately became apprehensive of her reaction to seeing me in a bra and panties. She had a neutral expression and clearly she hadn't thought about how she might react upon seeing me either. Our eyes met and exchanged our mutual uncertainty. Then she giggled and I joined her. At that moment we became true friends and it is a friendship that has lasted to this day.
"Those are really cute undies, Noreen," she said after a moment. She walked around me and placed the bra and petticoat on the chair. She couldn't help but glance at my crotch. Her eyes showed her surprise. She said, "Wow those are the most adorable panties ... and ... they fit so ... well!"
I knew what she really meant to say. I whispered, "I haven't had the operation. It's called tucking."
I didn't elaborate and Diane seemed too embarrassed to press the matter. She took the petticoat off its hanger and held it out for me to step into. I would have thought I should put my bra on first. Diane seemed to sense my confusion and explained.
"It's usually best to put your petticoat on first, Noreen. You see the bra you'll be wearing fits down to your waist so you can wear low back dresses. By putting the petticoat on first, the bra will come down and over the top of the petticoat to help give you a smoother look."
She again lowered the petticoat and had me step into it. It fit much more loosely than I'd imagined, to the point that I was worried that my hips wouldn't be broad enough to hold it up. My fears were unnecessary. For when the petticoat was up to my waist it seemed almost to float on my hips. I had another surprise in how high the petticoat came on me. I immediately understood why Diane had me put it on before my bra.
When the petticoat was in place, Diane nonchalantly asked me to remove my bra. The moment for her may have been routine, but for me it was another "Rubicon" moment. With more anxiety than I showed, I reached behind me and fumbled with the clasps of my bra. Now I'd been wearing bras for years (albeit off and on of course) and I certainly wasn't a neophyte in putting them on and taking them off. Yet, the time it took me to unclasp the bra seemed inordinately long ... tortuously long!
Diane smiled. "Can I help you?"
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I guess I'm a little nervous."
"No problem," she said graciously. "It happens all the time. Girls get so fidgety when looking for a wedding gown they just fall to pieces."
She unhooked my bra and I let it fall into my cradled hands like any other girl. The feminine manner in which I let my bra fall did not go unnoticed by Diane. I placed the bra on the chair as Diane came around from behind me. She gasped when she saw my silicone breasts hanging freely from my chest.
"Wow ..." she murmured. "Those ... those look so real!" she exclaimed. "I ... I've heard of such things but I've never seen some until now. How do you ...?"
I giggled and explained the process by which I attach my forms.
"Do they hurt ... sticking like that I mean?"
"Not really," I replied. "They just feel heavy ... Since the forms are supposed to mimic the real thing and be used by ... (I lowered my voice) real women, I would think they feel like real breasts without a bra to support them."
She smiled. "Well in that case I think we should give them some support.
She handed me the strapless bra. When I had wrapped it around myself she came up behind and began to fasten the little hooks. The last time I'd had another woman help me fasten a bra was when I had a bra fitting two years previously. That had been the most intense and intimate experience I'd ever had as Noreen ... until now. Standing there with my hands on my hips caressed by a flowing petticoat and having another woman caringly fasten a strapless bra to my body made me feel just ... so ... feminine ... No, not just feminine ... accepted ... like I belonged ... like I was a real woman! It was nothing short of exquisite!
When the last hook-and-eye was fastened we both appraised the look in the mirror. I saw Diane just shake her head in clear amazement and I shared her amazement. The bra completely covered my forms (much to my enjoyment) and so the effect was incredibly lifelike. I heard myself say, "I wish I had more cleavage."
Diane giggled. "Don't worry Noreen. Very few girls have a big cleavage when wearing a strapless bra, at least one that is the right size. I think you look fine and, seeing you there, I don't think there's a doubt in the world that you'll be able to wear almost any gown you want with confidence."
Turning back to the mirror, I saw why Diane had me put my petticoat on first. The bra came down and over the top of the petticoat creating an almost seamless merger between the two garments. The effect was to make my torso and waist appear decidedly smaller and more feminine and my hips to be fuller.
"Which dress would you like to try first?" Diane asked.
I looked at the many hanging dresses and thought about it for a moment. "Why don't we start with the PC Mary's gown with the cap sleeves. I loved that dress in the magazine." I responded, trying to sound informed.
"Good choice, Noreen," Diane replied taking the selected dress from the hanging rod. "Have you ever worn a wedding dress before?"
I shook my head no.
"Well, they can be tricky to get into."
She poked her head out the curtain and said to someone, "Tina when you've finished with that could you come here and help me get Noreen into her dress?"
She poked her head back in but left the curtain slightly ajar. I could see a number of brides modeling their dresses and no doubt they could see me. It made me both excited and a little self-conscious knowing that I could be seen in this dressing room clothed only in a strapless bra and petticoat. While we were waiting for Tina, Diane picked up where she'd left off.
"Well ... anyway ... as I was saying ... as beautiful as they are these dresses can be a pill to get into. That's why brides have bridesmaids. Are you going to have any maids?"
"Two," I replied, keeping with the fantasy story I'd rehearsed in anticipation of this day. "Two friends have agreed to be my bridesmaids."
"That's sweet. Are they ... uh ... girls ... like you?"
"Yeah," I said to see her reaction. "I bet you girls are going to have a blast at the reception. Will there be any cute guys there?"
"Well, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," I replied with a giggle. "Anyway my maids aren't gay. ... well ... at least I don't think so. ... One's divorced and has three kids."
"Really?" Diane said, genuinely surprised.
"Yeah, I said. "You'd be surprised. Relatively few of the girls I hang around with are actually gay. Obviously in girl mode we chat about guys sometimes, but none of us actually have done anything with a guy."
Diane had a thoughtful look. "Do you mind if I ask why you do this then?"
Before I could answer Tina came through the curtain. Diane greeted her. "Tina, thanks for coming in. This is Noreen."
Tina looked at me with the same surprise Diane had shown upon seeing me for the first time.
"This is Noreen?" she said not so tactfully, "You're so much prettier than I expected." Diane shot her a disapproving stare. I blushed at the backhanded compliment and said thank you.
"Okay Noreen let's get you in your dress.
Diane and Tina began to fumble with the bulky dress. Diane's question as to why I dressed as Noreen if I wasn't gay hung in the air unanswered; I was grateful. For like most part time girls, I wasn't sure I would have been able to answer.
After they'd gotten a proper hold on the dress, which now appeared to be no more than a cloud of billowing fabric, Diane said, "Tina and I are going to hold the dress and slip it over your head. Okay?"
I nodded.
"Now put your arms over your head like you were getting ready to dive into a pool and then bend over just a little bit."
I took the position she described while they took positions on either side of me. Then, in practiced unison, they slipped the dress over my head and lowered it down my body and over my petticoat. I had never felt anything so luxurious as the silky under skirt of the dress as it floated down my body. They let the open bodice of the dress fall below my breasts and then began to pull it back, having me place my arms in the sleeves as they did so. The entire process was so feminine. I'd never felt anything like it. Having two pretty women fawning over me, and the feel of silk and organza against the most feminine of undergarments! At that moment I was grateful for the full petticoat, because my clitty was not behaving itself in my panties.
"I think this dress is going to be smashing on you, Noreen, " Tina said as she and Diane continued to fuss with the skirt and bodice. The bodice both zipped and laced in back. After several more moments, Diane declared brightly, "Okay Noreen let's show you off! Out to the pedestal! Be careful when you're walking. Take the skirt on either side and lift it just slightly. Tina will get your train."
This was the moment of truth ... the crescendo of my fantasy ... and it was real! I was going to be a bride-to-be, paraded before other brides-to-be! Onlookers would examine me closely, admiring the gown I was modeling; comparing themselves to me. Mothers would look upon me with envy as in that moment they relived their own bride-to-be debut on a similar pedestal so many years before. I had dreamt of this moment for years; and now that it was here!
I was terrified!
Would they really treat me like the bride-to-be of my dreams or would I become a subject of ridicule as they detected my secret? Was I really as pretty as I felt standing there in the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn, feeling so much the giggling bride-to-be? Or was it just another crossdresser's delusion? Was I beauty ... or buffoon?
With my heart in my throat and knees shaking, fingers trembling, I reached down and gently lifted the skirt of my gown. Forcing a smile to my face I took my first step out of the dressing room ... crossing yet another muliebrile Rubicon.
My fears had to share my mind with an excitement and anticipation I can't begin to describe. There's absolutely nothing in the world like walking in a wedding gown! Despite its weight I felt like I was walking on air! I felt so much more than beautiful ... I felt majestic!
As we entered the viewing area, I noticed that I'd been right; every eye turned to get a glimpse of the new bride-to-be. I heard several women comment to one another, "Oh what a gorgeous dress!" I thought I'd burst with girlish pride when I heard another elderly woman comment, "Isn't she just lovely, Maggie?" A couple of mothers addressed me directly and told me the dress looked stunning on me. No one seemed to notice that I was a guy. Mary, who I'd spoke with earlier, was modeling a pretty gown. She turned and smiled. "Noreen you look absolutely breathtaking!"
"You too Mary!" I replied with equal awe in my voice. "I love that Basque waist on you ... very flattering!" She beamed and thanked me and then returned to her critical assessment of the gown.
Diane led me over to a pedestal and I climbed up onto it delicately. My knees were calming somewhat as I stood there being admired by so many women in this most womanly of settings. Diane came around front and began to fuss with the bodice and how it fell on my waist. "This dress fits like it was made for you Noreen!" she commented. "I don't think we'd have to do anything to it. Do you know what height heel you're going to be wearing?"
I thought for a moment. "No more than 2 inches, I'd think," I responded tentatively.
"That's fine," Diane commented as she examined where the skirt of my dress fell around my feet. One or two-inch heels should look fine. Any higher than that and you'd have to have a slightly longer dress." Just then Mary snapped a picture of us with her Polaroid camera. I was grateful for the memento, even if it did come out rather dark.
I looked and felt absolutely gorgeous standing there with all of the other brides-to-be, even if I was slightly older than the others. The dress was truly stunning on me. It was an elegantly simple gown with cap sleeves and a scooped neckline adorned with feminine beading. It had a modified Basque bodice that fit snuggly at my waist and fell just below my hips. The hem of the bodice was also trimmed with subtle beading. A flowing Princess-cut satin skirt spread in classic ballroom fashion, aided by the petticoat that rustled sexily beneath. A simple, but stately, semi-Cathedral train finished the look. The dress really made the most of my figure and I loved how the bodice laced up in back in a delightfully flirty manner.
"Are you going to be wearing you hair up or down at the ceremony?" I heard a voice say
I shook myself out of my self-admiration and asked, "I'm sorry?"
"Are you going to be wearing your hair up or down at the ceremony?" Diane repeated.
"Uh ... I haven't made up my mind. I've tried both looks in the mirror at home, but I'm just not sure which looks best on me. I took my hair and held it up. "What do you think, Diane?"
Diane looked at me from a couple of angles. "Why don't we see with a couple of veils and then we can decide."
She reached in her pocket and pulled out a couple of bobby pins. In moments my hair was loosely pinned up. Just then Tina came up holding several different veils. Diane said to her, "Let's try that fingertip tiara veil first Tina."
Tina handed one of the veils to Diane, who carefully pinned it to my head. It was so lovely. It fit high on the crown of my head and fell gracefully down my back to just below my waist. I now understood why they called it a fingertip veil. It was indeed the crowning glory to the dress. It made me feel so ... virginal!" My little secret was feeling far from virginal beneath my panties!
Diane came over and gently draped the veil over my left shoulder and then stood off to the side so we could both continue to admire the effect.
"This is how you'll wear it after you and your wife have exchanged your vows," she said in a normal, matter-of-fact manner before she realized what she was saying.
We exchanged shocked looks in the mirror. Diane mouthed an "I'm sooo sorry" as we both glanced around furtively to see if anyone had heard her slip up. Mary, who was getting ready to snap another picture of us, looked at me quizzically for a few moments as though she'd heard something but wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. She snapped the picture and then handed the camera to the gal who was assisting her.
Still nervous as to what Mary had heard, I looked at Diane. Diane came over and whispered, "I'm so sorry Noreen. You were so beautiful standing there; it just slipped out."
She began to fuss with the dress while stealing glances at the other nearby brides.
"Let's just ignore it, Noreen. No one seems to have heard."
She resumed playing with the bow in the back and the flowing train.
"I really love this gown on you Noreen," she said. "It's so sophisticated but doesn't make you look too ... uh .... matronly."
Another salesgirl came over. "Hi Noreen. Just wanted to tell you that I think you look gorgeous. You have such a cute figure and you carry that dress so well! I've heard a lot of gals commenting on what a pretty bride you are!"
The encouraging comments calmed my nerves somewhat. Diane smiled and nodded her agreement.
"Let's try a couple of more, shall we?"
Diane headed off to the dressing room, leaving me to proceed regally behind with my skirt lifted elegantly so that I could walk like a true bride. Just as I was about to enter the dressing area Mary came up from behind in her dress rustling as she scurried to catch up to me. "Noreen ... Noreen, wait up." I stopped, trying desperately not to reveal the apprehension I was feeling.
"Yeah, Mary?" I asked, uncertainly, fearful I knew exactly what she wanted. Mary looked around to see if other girls were listening.
"Noreen ... uh ... are you ... a ... a ... lesbian?" Seeing my terrified and shocked expression she smiled and said, "I'm sorry. It's just that I heard Diane mention something about your ... uh ... wife and ...."
She paused and looked at me with eyes wide, as the truth suddenly hit her. She looked at me again and murmured. "You're a guy! Aren't you?!"
She clapped her hands to her mouth and giggled. I looked at her scared out of my wits. I didn't know what to say. My eyes were pleading. She hugged me and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry I won't tell. If the owner doesn't mind you shopping for a dress why should I? Besides, you look sensational in that dress ... better than a lot of girls here do!" She pointed to a "plus-sized" gal standing just a little way away and with feminine cruelty whispered, "I mean look at that girl over there. She could stand to lose about fifty pounds. So what's really going on ummm?"
By this time Diane had come back out to see what the trouble was. She seemed to have been prepared for this possibility. We had a quiet discussion outside the hearing of the other brides-to-be and I relayed my story about renewing our vows. Mary seemed to buy into it as a perfectly rational explanation. She also seemed familiar, if not entirely comfortable, with transgendered girls. By the time our conversation was over, I had made a true friend and she was with me the rest of my shopping at Diane's, always encouraging me and telling me how pretty I looked in this dress or that. I, of course, did the same with her. To this day, I've never had a closer social experience with another woman as Noreen.
Of the many dresses I tried, none made me feel as special as the first gown I tried on until Diane pulled a dress by Bonny off the rod. It was a strapless princess gown in a textured French taffeta. Delicate embroidered accents adorned the side of the bodice. A flattering Basque waist fell into a billowing skirt with what Diane called a "bubbled" hemline. Large tucks here and there, that Diane called a "pickup detail," gave the skirt a delightfully girlish ruffled look without appearing to frou-frou. The look was capped off with a stunningly elegant cathedral train.
I never felt so romantic and sexy in a dress. I loved the compressing feeling of the tightly fitted bodice that confined my heaving ersatz bosom. It was so girly! I immediately dubbed it "The Girly Gown!" As I made my way back out to the pedestal, Diane held the majestic train off the floor. I flashed everyone a huge smile as though to say, "This is the one!"
Mary squealed girlishly when she saw me in the dress. "Oh Noreen ... it's YOU!" she proclaimed, causing everyone nearby to turn and look at me.
Not that they weren't already. For the dress definitely made a statement. I felt so far beyond pretty ... beyond gorgeous ... to the rarified pinnacle of exquisite! I almost cried looking at myself in the mirror.
Diane knew that I absolutely loved the dress. Still, she believed I was looking for a dress in which to renew vows with my wife. In as gentle a manner as she could muster she suggested that the gown, while definitely pretty on me, was not the right dress for the occasion. She argued delicately that it was "just a little too young" for me and "just slightly too formal" for the ceremony. Mary came over and countered these arguments saying that it was up to me as the bride to set the mood and formality of the ceremony. She didn't think the dress was too young for me at all.
Diane then lowered her voice and said to us, "Well there's another consideration too." She looked at me, "Noreen dear, I assume you're wife is going to be wearing a dress too?" I nodded. "She's going to be wearing the gown she wore on our wedding day."
"That's kinda what I thought. Now picture you in this dress standing next to her in her dress. Is there any doubt in your mind that you would eclipse her easily?"
Looking at myself in the mirror I smiled and said almost reverently, "None whatsoever!"
Diane smiled understandingly. "Well ... do you really want to do that?"
A light seemed to go off in Mary's mind and she began to nod in agreement. Diane saw that I still didn't get it.
"I mean ..." she continued, "I know your wife has agreed that you can be a bride in the ceremony, but she's still a woman. She'll be wearing the most important dress she's ever owned. I know you also want to look pretty and sexy. I just don't think you want to look ... too ... sexy or pretty. Know what I mean?"
Suddenly I understood perfectly. I had portrayed my wife as the understanding supportive spouse of a crossdresser. Yet, Diane was pointing out that I could expect support to go just so far. No woman would permit herself to be outshined at her own wedding ... renewal ceremony or not. If I showed up looking more stunning than my wife not only would she feel less of a woman she might actually resent Noreen. As I thought about it Diane's insight seemed was exactly right ... if there actually was going to be a ceremony!
I was now trapped by my own devices: I REALLY wanted this dress! It was my dream dress. Yet, if I insisted on getting this gown I'd look like a real cad, especially to these two women who had a mindset that my wife was sacrificing greatly in just permitting me to be a bride at her renewal ceremony!
As I continued to drool over my reflection in the mirror I frantically tried to think of a way out of my dilemma. Yet, I couldn't think of anything that didn't sound foolish and make me look like a selfish little girl. Of course there were real reasons why I shouldn't get this dress. For one thing it was huge and would be difficult for me to hide, even in the attic. It was also expensive. The price tag said that the dress was originally $1,000.00, but was marked down to $500.00. That was a huge bargain and the dress was worth every penny. Still, fantasies have their limit. Although I had $500.00 with me, I really did not want to spend more than $350.00 tops. The first dress I'd tried and loved had originally been $600.00 and had been marked down to $250.00, well within my budget.
Practicality triumphed over whimsy. Pouting, I reluctantly returned to the dressing room to change.
I decided to try the first dress on just one more time, complete with veil. Looking at myself in the mirror I sighed. It may not be my first choice, but the dress really did make me feel pretty and it was reasonably priced. Diane pushed me to make a decision. I explained to her candidly that I had another appointment at David's and asked whether she could put it on hold. She explained that she couldn't do that without a $50.00 non-refundable deposit since the dress was a floor model. I thought for a couple of minutes and then agreed. After all, Diane and her staff had been absolutely delightful the entire afternoon. If I decided not to buy a dress, they deserved to keep the money as a tip for their trouble in indulging my fantasy. If nothing else I figured I'd be purchasing good will in the event I some day wanted to return to shop for formalwear. As my first act as the "blushing bride" I signed the purchase form "Noreen Wilson" in flowing feminine script.
In all I spent about three hours at Diane's. As I slipped back into my skirt and top I didn't want the experience to end. I'd been in a dressing room with brides and bridesmaids trying on the most elegant gowns a girl could imagine. I'd been surrounded by girls who were entirely unsuspecting, as evidenced by their willingness to leave the curtains of their dressing rooms asunder despite their being attired in only their bras and slips. It was fun listening to the intimately feminine conversations as women debated what type of bra to wear with what dress or shared risqué comments about fiancées or men in general. Yet, I knew I couldn't spend any more time without raising suspicions as to my true motives. I reluctantly said my good byes and left for David's promising to return later that day if I didn't find anything I liked better. Diane gave me a hug as I left.
"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Noreen," she said. I thanked her again and turned to leave before I started to cry.
---
I was floating on air as I drove to David's Bridal Salon about four miles away. I won't bore you with another long account of my experience because my emotions were largely the same. Besides, while the experience itself was more than pleasant, it didn't have that same intimacy I'd felt at Diane's. David's, after all, is a large wedding mill chain. This particular store was easily three times the size of Diane's intimate boutique. The staff was very friendly and tried to make me feel special, yet the store was just too big and they were just too busy to match the service I'd received at Diane's. I also think the staff was less tolerant of the fact that I was actually a guy looking for a wedding dress than the ladies at Diane's had been. They were willing to go along to make a sale, but they definitely were more distant. The size of the store also limited somewhat the bridal camaraderie I'd experienced at Diane's.
It was a shame really, for my experience at Diane's had given me tremendous confidence. At David's I was much more relaxed and natural as I approached the task of selecting a wedding dress. At one point, I actually stepped out of my dressing room to call to Jackie, my bridal consultant, to get a gown in another size while just dressed in my strapless bra and petticoat. I didn't venture out entirely, mind you. but the other girls nearby saw me in all my glory. It was perhaps a silly thing to do, inviting unnecessary risk, yet it had been so much fun!
That I was confident enough to be so bold, and the fact that the other girls didn't seem to notice I wasn't really a girl despite my revealing attire, seemed to relax Jackie. I tried on six dresses at David's. Jackie was effusive in her compliments about how each of them looked on me. Yet, there was a hollow quality to them that I'd never sensed in the compliments I received at Diane's. Perhaps I'm being unfair. Perhaps my fantasy had been so perfectly fulfilled at Diane's that David's couldn't possibly live up to that experience and the expectations it gave me as I entered their store.
In the end, however, any bride will tell you it is all about the dress. As beautiful as the dresses were - and were they ever beautiful - nothing really attracted me as much as my "Girly Gown" or even the one I had put on hold at Diane's. As I stood on the pedestal at David's in a gorgeous strapless gown of French taffeta with a delicate organza overlay trimmed in sweet Schiffli lace, I looked stunning - but I didn't look right! Noticing my telltale hand on my hips, signaling my disgruntlement, Jackie lifted and straightened out the gown's semi-Cathedral train in an effort to impress me with the simple majesty of the dress and change my mind. Yet, all I could think of as I stood there looking beautiful, admired by the mothers lounging around in the scattered chairs waiting for their daughters to come out, was the "Girly Gown."
At that moment I suddenly realized what every girl on her way to becoming a bride eventually discovers. No matter what anyone else says, no matter the logic of their arguments or the accuracy of their assessment, there is only one PERFECT dress. You know it the moment it slips over your head, floats down over your bosom and comes to rest upon your hips. You know it not simply from the appearance but from the feel, from the electricity that courses through you the second you see yourself in the mirror. At that moment every girl knows that no matter how many other dresses she tries on, no matter how much prettier they may be, none will ever capture her heart like THE DRESS. It is THE DRESS, and the feeling it gives her enables the bride to radiate perfect joy as she promenades down the aisle to the majestic refrains of the wedding march. Once it is discovered and experienced, the bride-to-be will do anything, spend any amount, sell her soul, to have THE DRESS!
I knew now that Diane was entirely wrong! In my fantasy my wife had graciously allowed me to be a bride-to-be. Such a caring and understanding wife would never begrudge the bride-to-be the ecstasy, the sublime selfishness, of discovering, buying and wearing THE DRESS. To do so would be profoundly cruel, robbing her of the very essence of being a bride-to-be. I also now understood that no woman who has found THE DRESS would ever feel second fiddle to another girl. That is the magic, the mystery and the power of THE DRESS. My wife had found THE DRESS ten years ago; for her it will always be THE DRESS. In my fantasy we will stand side by side in splendor, each or us feeling uniquely beautiful, uniquely sexy for we will both be wearing what is for us THE DRESS!
With a huge smile I abruptly lifted my gown and stepped off the pedestal to the dressing room to change. Fifteen minutes later I thanked Jackie and left David's to go back to Diane's and get THE DRESS ... my Girly Gown!
(c) 2006 by Noreen Wilson. All Rights Reserved. This story may be archived or printed for private, non-commercial purposes only, providing all text remains intact, including this notice. All images in this story have been edited from images believed to be in the public domain. They represent unique depictions of the subject matter. If any image is believed not to be in the public domain please let the author know and it will be removed from the work.