My wedding dress story

by Lauran

Don’t ask me how it came up at the beginning, I was round at Mark’s house and we had had enough of his new game and were just sitting about chatting. We touched on our lack of love interest, how possibly girls weren’t keen on gamers, what game we should get next. Usual seventeen-year-old stuff, well we thought so. Mark came out with the statement that his ideal woman would be someone like me, except she would obviously be female and not a weedy lad, someone who would play x box and chat, like we did. I thanked him for what I think was a compliment and tried to change the subject, though he was my best friend and got on really well I was not sure I saw him as my ideal partner.

It was at the end of college on Friday that Samantha caught us on our way home, gave us an invite to her party then ran off with her boyfriend. We read it, looked at each other and just said no. It would be couples and trying to pretend they were grown up, and for Mark and myself a gooseberry situation. Anyway Mark’s mum found the invitation and I happened to walk in on the conversation, Mrs Jones thought Mark should go, he had not been to a party in ages, and sitting playing games with me was no way to spend a Saturday evening, besides it was fancy dress which would make it more fun. Mark was not keen and suggested we had no costume or money to hire one, then I saw her face light up, she spotted her wedding photo and told Mark he could borrow his fathers wedding suit, a proper morning suit with hat and tails, the lot. Mark was not keen and pointed out I still had no outfit and dressing up as a groom would look odd, what did she have in mind for me, the wedding dress. Her answer took the wind out of our sails, she said why not, I am about the size she was twenty years ago, and we would make a good pair. I chipped in suggesting my mother might not be too enthused about her boy running around in a dress, and after a moments thought she rang her and asked her to come round, which is only three doors away, so was there in no time. I was trying to play it cool, I did not want to let on that I had enjoyed a few evenings alone in her bedroom imagining myself in her clothes, and the idea of wearing a wedding dress was secretly quite appealing. Anyway my mother and Mrs Jones quickly covered the discussion so far, and as I brought up the fact that my mother would hardly like to see her son parading around in a wedding dress, she just asked why not? I was a little stuck for words, coming out with things like, it’s not right, men are men, men wear trousers. They both shot me down, told me not to be sexist, that men wear trousers and so do women, women wear dresses so why should men not wear them also. I gave in as I was clearly losing the argument, but inside was having mixed feelings about how this adventure would work out.

Our mothers left us to discuss our fates, Mark only had one comment, that he would get his ‘wish’ I would be his girlfriend, how could I forget his statement a few days before, and told him I expected him to be a perfect gentleman. It was not late when I left with my mother and a dress bag that I assumed correctly contained the wedding dress. Mum was trying to get me talking about how I wanted to play the part, did I want to be a drag queen type, a clown style or a proper looking woman, when I asked which she thought would be best, she was in favour of a straight forward woman look, because Mark would be a normal looking groom so I might as well compliment his approach.

Mother started on me the next morning, it was Saturday and she was not that busy so it would be a good time to get the outfit sorted, I had hoped to do this all privately but mum had other ideas, I was in my briefs letting her put the dress over my head soon after breakfast, and she was making notes, I needed a chest, the hem dragged on the floor could it be turned up? My arms looked quite hairy, that needed sorting, and my hair was a scruffy mess that needed attention. Many other items were mentioned but not noted and I was feeling this might not be as much fun as I first thought. Over a coffee Mrs Jones arrived and discussed how things were going, Mark had had a fitting also and was apparently a spit of his father back then, he needed a haircut and a good shower and that seemed to be it for him. I overheard the topic of the hem come up, and Mrs Jones asked how short was I, only a couple of inches my mother informed her, they did not want the hassle of alterations and decided if I wore heels it would fall right. Then they talked about hairstyles and make up, then how to get them organised. I was starting to feel left out of it but waited for Mark’s mother to leave.

I asked mum if all the things discussed were essential, she was sure they were, so I asked if walking in heels was difficult as I hear women complain about them, not sure what the answer would be, she might even encourage me to try them, and she did, I tried not to look too pleased at the prospect of wearing heels but I possibly did not do very well at lying as she went to her wardrobe and found some sandals that could be adjusted around the ankles and told me to give them a try. She said they were only a low one and I agreed I had seen higher, but that did not help me as I staggered about hoping to find my balance, which prompted her to say that I did need practise because the dress would need me to wear at least a three inch heel. This was not going to be easy she reminded me as she told I should wear the sandals around the house for the rest of the day, and that seeing as I have never worn a skirt, let alone a full length dress it might be good to get some practise in there also. Anything else I thought, when she came out with ‘If we are going for authentic, maybe we should get your ears pierced?’

I asked if I had any say in the matter, to which she replied, not really, if I was going to be ready in a fortnight I would need to start getting ready now. Saturday went fine, when I was in the house I wore the sandals but changed when I went to Mark’s, who was quite downbeat about the affair, his mum wanted him to loose a few inches from his waist and get a proper haircut, like men should have with ears and collar showing, I told him some of what my mother had in store for me but assured him it was fine and in fact could be something of a challenge, for which I got an odd look of him.

Sunday morning and mother had been through her old clothes and found an old maxi skirt from her college days telling me I should try it so I can get accustomed to the feel and length of a long skirt. I agreed hopefully not to quickly and as I had lots of homework to catch up on spent the day in the sandals and skirt, and came to no harm.

That is except for early afternoon when I changed into my jeans and trainers and went with her to the shops, I came back with two sore ears and ring sleepers fitted in my lobes.

Monday I had a few at college ask about the ears, most saying how cool they looked which made me feel better, but it was when I got home my good mood wore off, a note from mum saying ‘Get changed then make a start on tea, don’t forget to use an apron’ I could only find her apron but wore it to keep the peace when she got home. Then I had another shock, she was late because she had been shopping at a discount shop and had me so I had some heels of my own, a plain court shoe with a towering, at least I thought so, three inch heel, to get used to the height she assured me. They were a tight fit which stops them slipping off, and I was to wear them whenever I was in the house instead of the sandals.

Tuesday I went round to Mark’s for a rest in the evening, he loved the earrings.

Wednesday, Mark came round unexpected, I was in the long skirt and high heels, he said nothing but I would catch him taking sideways looks at me, and I told him not to tease as I would get my own back later if he did.

Thursday, mum is making plans for the weekend, I am not sure of them all but I shall be busy it seems if all the calls she has been making are anything to go by. Got the skirt and heels of to a fine art I think.

Friday, mum wants me to get into an authentic girl mood and had got me a nightie, to prepare me for Saturday she adds. What will happen on Saturday I ask, nothing I won’t enjoy she reassures me. I put on the nightie before going to bed and showed her how it looks, I get a kiss, that has not happened for years, maybe she likes this as well.

Saturday, in the morning she gives me a make up lesson, first showing me how it is done, then cleaning it off and guiding me while I try to repeat what she had created. This feels a bit weird as I am in the nightie with her silk wrap tied around me. Once she was happy I had mastered the basics she tells me it is time to get everything sorted with the dress, a pair of control pants to keep everything controlled at the hips, a bra stuffed with tights to give me a big enough chest she hopes, then the slip, then the dress. To my embarrassment Mrs Jones is invited round for advice, the bra needs to be bigger, and my waist thinner to get the dress fitting right. Fifteen minutes later Mark’s mum is back with a corset and one of her bras, twenty minutes later I am putting my arms through the sleeves again and letting them button up the rear closure. I am uncomfortable but told it fits perfectly. Stepping into my shoes Mrs Jones asks if I would mind trying four inch heels so the hem is just that little bit higher, my mother says it wont be a problem, I just let out a girlie squeak and they have a fit of giggles, and hug me.

After Mrs Jones has gone and the dress hung up, mum tells me I should keep the corset and bra on so I can get used to them, and gives me one of her knitted tops to wear along with the long skirt which now sits more on my hips and therefore lower down, this causes me to be extra careful not to stand on the hem as I walk, I had already got used to lifting the hem when I walked upstairs, but this was needing a different gait to keep it out of the way, I was developing a very affected female walk by mid afternoon. Though I was not told to keep the make up on, I made no move to clean it off which prompted mum to suggest we try something extra on Sunday, when I asked what she clammed up.

I did not go round to Mark’s, so he came round to ours and got to be the first person to see a fairly complete female version of me, he said I looked hot, and asked if the tits were real, I told him to grow up and turn the X box on.

Sunday. Woke with nightie wrapped around my legs, which was very nice. Over breakfast, still in the nightie, mum tells me to have a practise with my make up and to wet my hair. Then while I am brushing cosmetics onto my face she is brushing and combing, then using her tongs on my hair, by the time we are done I look completely different, especially now my face is framed by my neat hair style, but all the while she was talking about how it would look best the next weekend. Instead of the long skirt she gives me a pair of cream silk cargo trousers and a green vest top, saying I could do with a change.

The afternoon is spent studying and trying to tell myself I will get used to the corset and bra. Then as I am expecting mum to tell me tea is ready she comes in with a jacket and a shoulder bag, ‘Right time you had a go at being outside, and being seen. Here put this on we are going to pizza hut.’ I would have objected if I could get a word in as she explained how I needed to be comfortable out while looking female, and learn some of what I need to know about female behaviour.

The next shock was the Mrs Jones and Mark were at the pizza hut already, Mark looking more nervous than me. Our mothers got on well chatting about this and that, but mostly about us, the comment to cause the most reaction from us was that seeing as we were bride and groom next weekend, at least we should be boy and girlfriend at least once beforehand, they had even got us to sit side by side on a small bench seat. Mrs Jones was full of praise for how mum had transformed me, and that the party would be great. Then to cap it all, mum invites Mrs Jones to go with her, and leaves Mark with their car to run me home.

This was getting a bit to much, a bit too fast I thought, our mums were setting us up like a blind date other than we were best friends. We drove to our house, I invited Mark in for coffee, and as we relaxed he comes out with ‘you don’t realise how good you are do you. No one took a second glance at you. You are prettier than most of girls in our year. You are great at this you know’ all I could do was blush and drink my coke.

When mum got home she made Mrs Jones a vodka and tonic, and then asked how we had been and did we want anything, I asked what was she offering as we had already had a coke, to which she said what did I fancy, a drink like Emma (Mrs Jones to me), I said I would try one and Mark had a lager because that was what he felt a man would drink. The next set up was that I ended up getting Mark a fresh lager only to find my seat taken and the only free one was next to Mark. Emma and mum then started teasing Mark that he has a pretty girl next him and why has he not put his arm around me, they hoped he would be more affectionate to his bride in a weeks time. The lagers and vodka relaxed us and after much teasing I cuddled up with his arm over my shoulder. Last blushing episode came as they got up to leave, as we said our good byes and Mrs Jones put her coat on, she nudged her son and told him he should say thank you for a lovely evening, I imagined what was coming, he said the words and his mother reminded him I was his girlfriend for the evening and had he never said good night to a girl before? He gave me a peck on the cheek, that was not good enough, and was asked if he needed showing what was expected, so he kissed me on the lips, which got an approval, ‘Now we are just going out to the car while you two practise properly, and we shall be checking’ they both grinned as they left us.

‘So are we going to do this and keep them happy?’

‘If you are ok with it’

Then I leaned forward and kissed him properly, hand round his neck so he couldn’t escape and moved my lips in an appropriate manner. Mother came back after a few minutes, ‘There is no stopping you’ we separated and both said ‘what’ together ‘it was your idea in the first place’

Anyway after they had gone I sat with mum cleaning my face and getting into my nightclothes discussing the evening. She had had a great time, she admitted some of it at our expense, but I was a great girl and that I would be terrific in the wedding dress.

Monday, it was back to earth and college, and a hangover, three vodkas when you are not used to them is hard and Mark was the same, added to which neither of us knew how to react after our good byes from the night before, something had changed in the friendship and we could not explain it to each other or ourselves.

The evening saw me in heels and skirt preparing tea once again, when mum came in with a shopping bag, ‘For you’ I opened it to find a pair of what I guessed to be four inch white stiletto sandals, ‘For the wedding’ I let out a exasperated mother, but she assured me I should get them on and get used to them as quickly as possible.

Tuesday, I was going to put on the long skirt when mum asks if I would like to try some other styles, ‘like what’ I asked and from nowhere she produces a mini skirt and tells me to be careful not show the world my assets. It was just a short straight denim skirt, but it did ride up at times making for a different sort or care needed too the long skirt, but after a few mishaps I pretty much had it under control, but there was a question about where it came from, mum would never have bought this for herself, at least I had never seen her wear it, had she got it specially for me?

Wednesday, I have only one session in the morning so get to spend most of the day free. I got home for lunch and found mum’s note alongside a couple of round soft jelly like balls. ‘Try these in your bra, see how they look and feel. Mum.’ I played with the latex blobs for a bit, and then went to do as she asked. The initial feeling was cold and damp, but that passed and I was left with two tits bouncing around on my chest in a most unfamiliar way. Now as I was undressed and in the bra I felt I might as well carry on and went into my mother’s room and had a look through her wardrobe thinking that she would not mind now. It was a warm day and choose a lemon cotton dress that had its waist just below the bra line and felt light and cool as is wafted around my body, then with my make up applied and heels on I settled down to some studying.

I was deep in reading when the bell rang at the door, I hesitated about answering and sneaked a look through the curtain, a delivery van with a package, so I steeled my courage and went to answer, he looked at me smiled and asked me to sign for the package, then left, and I had been frightened he would say something, but it was as if he did not care, maybe he sees people like me everyday I thought.

‘Getting into this?’ was a surprise question as mum walked in behind me later in the day.

‘Just practicing’ I replied

Then she came over and gave me a kiss, ‘It is nice to see you like this, you are more relaxed and easier to get on with than usual’ then she dropped the stunner ‘And you don’t need to hide the fact you are looking through my clothes now, do you?’

I went bright red, she knew about my nosying times, what an embarrassment.

We chatted over our meal about how I felt, then later in the evening took me out to a pub she felt we would not be recognised in, but it had to be while I was still in the dress, so I got used to being outside she insisted. But not before I had depilated my arms and legs because a woman in a dress does not have hairy skin. It was worth it just for the closer feel of fabrics next to my skin. Wonderful.

But that was not the end to the days surprises, the package contained a thing she called a gaff, designed to keep my male parts looking female and flat down below, I asked why and she pointed out how I had a little bump at times and if I were to get excited it would become a big give away bump.

Thursday, I have several preparations to do, moisturise with a tanning lotion, file me nails neat, let mum ‘tidy’ my eye brows, try on the gaff.

Friday, Mark noticed the eyebrows, we had not really had a gaming session in ages and he invited me round that evening, adding that he would like me to go in a skirt so he can get used to me before Saturdays big moment.

I went round wearing the denim mini, white heels, fitted blouse, make up and a smile. I was greeted with a wow you look the part, we chatted about what I had done to myself for this effect then went onto the X box.

Mrs Jones came home a while later and just stood looking at me ‘Oh my god, look at you now, Mark this is now way to entertain a girl’ he defended himself saying it was agreed before and his girl would like gaming anyway. No excuse she said with a certain authoritarian tone, asked me to help make the tea, and told us we should go for a walk with the dog after.

We did as we were told and took the dog out and I discovered that 4” heels are not the best shoes for walking on soft ground in, besides needing to clean the shoes, my ankles were killing me, what was even better this was a local walk and though we walked past people and a couple said hello to Mark, no one seemed to know who I was.

When we got back my mother was at Mark’s drinking wine and setting out a timetable for our Saturday. They would get us to the party for seven so worked back going through everything we would need to get done before then. From their good mood we could tell they were enjoying themselves.

Saturday. I wore the silk cargo pants, which now felt delicious on my bare skin, I wore the lower courts and mum said she had a treat for me once I was ready. That treat was to take me shopping first for the groceries then onto a department store where she lead me to the lingerie section informing me a bride will always have a special set of undies for her big day. I walked out with matching white satin bra and pants along with two pairs of white stockings, the corset she was confident had tabs to hold them.

We had lunch out then headed home.

I had my last moisturising session and liked how my white skin had got a healthier colour, and then mum started on the beauty treatments. First she washed my hair, but as she was running some liquid through my hair she spoke as if to herself ‘Maybe we should have discussed this, but it will look good, I know it will’ it seemed as though hair washing had become far more complicated than I ever thought possible. In the end I asked what had she doing. She had given my hair a good wash, next she bleached some streaks into it, finishing of with a setting lotion so it holds its style better when we finish. When I asked if it was necessary she just said yes. Soon I had my curled streaked hair arranged on my head and looking nothing like it used to. Next she took my hands and first glued long nails to my fingers, then painted them a pink colour followed by doing the same to my toes, after three coats she was satisfied they looked good. Now I was to get into my new underwear and discovered the limitations of long nails, but mum helped me when she saw me struggling, it was as the second stocking was easing its way up my leg I thought ‘How odd for a son to be so comfortable with his mum while letting her fasten the tabs to his stocking tops’ that all done I was handed me the silk wrap and told it was time to eat. She was asking me how I felt again and I was trying to be honest telling her how nice the clothes felt, the feeling of being pretty and attractive, and the attention I was getting, also the bonding between us that had happened in the last week or more. She confirmed that she had enjoyed this time together, liked the challenge, and enjoyed my new personality as I became more relaxed and feminine. We hugged and thanked each other for the special time it turned into.

But we had to finish me off, first make up, mum did it this time so it was perfect, then it was into the dress, as she fastened up the endless tiny buttons that ran from my neck to the small of my back I realised I would never get it off alone. I stepped into my heels and fluffed the skirt out feeling quite special as I stood there thinking how great brides must feel on their real wedding day when they look and feel this good. Mum had some finishing touches, a fine gold necklace, her gold watch on one wrist a gold bracelet on the other, then with care she hung a gold chandelier from each ear and finally took off her engagement ring and slid it onto my third finger. I was declared ready when she had dabbed scent on me and it was off to wait for my groom to call.

Mark turned up with his mother, he had had an equally image altering day, gone the scruffy lad, in walked a smart man, neat hair, close shaved, and looking immaculate in the morning suit. Mrs Jones was looking rather dew eyed especially after she saw me, mum had warned me that seeing the both of us dressed might bring back happy memories for her and I was not to worry, she was going to spend the night with her and make sure she was alright. I got a fantastic hug off her and told I was beautiful and fit for her boy. Mark by contrast looked a little awkward and shy, maybe the clothes maybe the situation. As a last touch Mrs Jones pinned a carnation to Mark’s lapel, presented me with a posy of pink roses and out of her bag brought out the veil. I was told to sit for a minute while they fitted it with the combs to my hair; it was down to my arse at the back but to my shoulders at the front. Mrs Jones then said ‘Nearly complete. Mark’ he stepped forward looking more sheepish, took my left hand and pushed a gold band up to the diamond ring.

It was my mum who spoke, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.’

‘Mum!’ was all I could manage, but Mark had been primed for this little scene as he leaned forward lifted the gauze before my face and gently kissed my lips. For some reason I said thank you and kissed him back as he pulled away.

‘Sweet’ my mum commented and then took photos of us, even a family shot with the mums on it. Then it was a short walk to the car and off to Samantha’s house and the party. The car was a challenge; mum had to help me in with my dress, and make sure I did not sit on the veil, Mark had it easier and took of his top hat and tails for an easy ride.

Mark was still nervous and let me know he was not sure how this costume would go down, Samantha knew what we were doing but he still wondered what the rest of our circle of friends would make of a wedding couple, especially one like us. I told him to relax and put a girlie hand on his knee, if anyone was going to get into bother it would be me as I had got rather to convincing and I was not sure how many knew besides Samantha.

We arrived at Samantha’s rather large house and let Mark help me from the car, arranging the dress then lifting the hem to keep it of the pavement as I walked to the door. We were greeted by a rather lovely Tudor couple who on closer inspection was Samantha and her boyfriend, ‘Mark how lovely to see you’ he got an air kiss ‘and your bride’ she came to kiss me then repeated Mrs Jones words ‘Oh my god, Jens it is you, brilliant, don’t tell anyone lets see who works it out’ she pulled the veil over my head and kissed me, her boyfriend knowing the truth was a little less affectionate in his greeting but smiled all the same.

I linked my arm into Mark’s ‘Come on hubby, time we mingled and got a drink’. The night was far more fun than either of us expected, neither of us were great party people preferring our games up until then, but Mark got chatting easily with some of the other lads there, while I was picked up by the girls who at first did not know me, but one by one recognised me, mainly from my voice it seemed and then it was the oh my god scene all over again. Samantha had us play silly parlour games, and I drank more than I should, Mark as the driver had his limit and stopped, what a thoughtful partner I have I told him and gave him a quick kiss, to which he said ‘Not here’ my reply being ‘Where then?’ as I slipped my arm into his elbow playing the girlfriend part for all it’s worth. ‘Just not where everyone can see, all right’ he said in a strong whisper. ‘So later then, when we alone and you can have your wicked way with me?’ he was blushing, ‘That’s not what I mean, just not here, I am getting enough comments about you being the best looking girl here and are we a real couple, that sort of thing, so don’t reinforce the misconceptions will you’ I had one last teasing comment ‘What misconceptions, darling’ leant over and kissed his lips. He went so red it was unbelievable and I made a quick retreat to the food table.

As I said the party was much better than I expected, laughing and joking with both sexes, but it was later that as couples paired off for their private intimacies that we were left with the singles who were trying to chat up some one who did not want to be seen with the others, which left us rather at a loss, so we called it a night thanked our host and made our way back home.

Mark revealed a text from his mother, telling us that my mum was spending the night at Mark’s so we would not need to worry about disturbing them when we got home late, and that Mark should sleep at my house.

It was on the table that we recognised a set up, a bottle of champagne and a wedding card addressed to us, Mr Mark and Ms Jenny Jones that is, with a message saying ‘Lovebirds. Enjoy your wedding night. Xxxx’ I was reading as Mark poured the bubbly into two flutes, ‘Well Mrs Jenny Jones, how does that sound to you’

‘Funny, I can’t believe how much ours mums are playing along with this.’ As we sat together on the sofa drinking our champagne I explained some of what I had told my mother about feeling comfortable in skirts, then it was Mark’s turn for a confession, some time ago he had admitted to his mother that his lack of girlfriends was down to him being gay, he was not sure he meant it, but it did stop her suggesting he find a nice girl. And now this scene of me cuddled up, head on his shoulder with his protective arm around me, at some time we realised we had been set up to see if Mark was gay and how I would deal with dressing for real not just poking around in a wardrobe.

‘Well they got you right didn’t they, just look at you, the most beautiful girl there tonight, and if you get the voice no one would have known, I bet you’

I got up so I could refill our glasses, and as I crouched before him asked ‘And what of you, do you fancy boys or girls?’

Reaching out he caught my hand and pulled me onto his lap, ‘I fancy something else I have now discovered, and I fancy boys who look like girls’

‘So can I kiss you now without being told off?’

He did not give a verbal answer, rather he pulled my face towards his and gave me a proper kiss that left me in no doubt he fancied me. What a shame we were so self conscious at the party, we could have danced and kissed and done so much more at the party if only we had had the nerve too.

I have never had a boyfriend before and Mark has not had a proper girlfriend before so we enjoying the new sensations of intimacy, then as the wine disappeared I suggested I should take the dress off and go to bed, making it clear I needed his help with the buttons. At the top of the stairs my door was shut, but mothers open and my nightie draped on the bed, I was not sure that a mother should be leading a son into these situations but giddy from the bubbles I led Mark into the room and asked him to undress me. It was as I hung the dress up the Mark whistled, he had a full view of my satin undies and stockings, ‘Still gorgeous’ he declared,

‘Glad you like it Mr Jones’ as I started to unfasten his shirt.

‘And the nightie?’ he asked

‘Mine’

‘You are taking this serious’

‘Mother suggested it’

‘I like your mother’

I put a finger under his chin and gave a mock pout, ‘I thought you liked me?’ then as his trousers fell and his erection sprang free, ‘You do like me I see’

He blushed as we rolled onto the bed and continued our intimate learning. His erection kept on touching me and at times he would press it against me, until I was so high I borrowed under the covers and kissed it, nervously at first to get a feel and a taste, but then more confidently until I had the whole tip in my mouth and sliding my lips up and down its length. There were a few short thrusts and a moan just before I got a mouthful of semen and I knew that was him done. After licking it clean I tucked it back inside the boxers and returned to the pillow, ‘I think you enjoyed that’

‘I love you’ was all he managed, he was drained. However I still needed to clean my face and finish undressing before slipping into my nightie then slipping between the sheets next to my lover.

Sunday. The day after, I woke to sound of mum downstairs. I found her drinking a coffee reading the paper, ‘Good night I take it’

‘Definitely different, thanks for everything, still not sure why though’

‘I take it Mark knows about the nightie then’

‘Yes thank you, did you really mean for all that to happen?’

As I sat down with my coffee she looked at me, ‘You might never do this again, I wanted to give you as much of the female experience as possible, and sleeping with a man is one of them’

‘How long have you been planning this?’ I asked

‘Me only since the idea was suggested, Emma I think was looking for an opportunity for months now. Anyway, I think my questions about your cross dressing have been answered in that I have a pretty son sat in a lovely nightie opposite me, what of Mark, is he gay do you think?’

‘I don’t know if he fancies me as Jens, but as Jenny we had some new experiences together’

Mark came down in my towelling robe he found behind the bathroom door, and looking rather subdued when he saw mum, ‘Morning Mark, good night?’

‘Yes thanks Mrs Christen’

‘There is a bag of clothes Emma sent round for you to go home in, help yourself to coffee and toast’

Mark made a quick exit, changing and leaving, I tried to kiss him but it was only a quick one and he was gone.

‘He will need time to sort his head out’ mum comforted ‘it is not everyday you wake up to find your best friend in a nightie after wearing what you did yesterday. You ok sweetheart?’

‘Fine’

‘Well that was your end of year party really wasn’t it, so what do you fancy doing today, you could go and play on Mark’s X box or we could go shopping and get you some new clothes, that nightie for one needs a wash every now and then, and though I like the idea of you thinking my clothes are good, I think we ought to get you some of your own if this is going to continue. What is it to be?’

I went over and hugged her ‘You are the best I cried into her shoulder, I would love to go shopping, but it is no longer for a party so what if someone questions me, what do I say?’

‘Just tell them the truth, that you are a trans sexual and your true nature is female’