Asset Management - Story with image

 Thinking of Bea lately so thought I'd better post something.

This is an old story and I've posted it elsewhere, so some readers may have seen it before.

I haven't re-read it so there may be some typos, grammatical errors etc- so apologies in advance.

Take care

Carrie

Asset Management

By

Carrie P

 

 

“This is so hideous, truly dreadful. And it’s only getting worse. What on earth am I going  to do?” he said, the agitation and emotion clearly evident on his face as he stood in front of the full length mirror.

“I do wish you would not upset yourself, Phillip.” Lucinda said gently. “You are beginning to sound like a hysterical schoolgirl.”

“Of course I’m upset.” he squealed and suddenly realised and not for the first time recently the pitch of his voice had become a tad higher than he would have liked.

Although it was probably the least of his problems it was however another new and unwelcome characteristic he had struggled to control and only served to emphasise the gradual yet pronounced erosion of his once rational  and well balanced personality.

Frustration quickly changed to despair and his bottom lip began to quiver.

Lucinda smiled patiently and knew it would not be long before the weeping would begin.

“But… it’s so…”he began to blubber unable to finish the sentence.

His fiancée moved closer and consoled him.

“Unfair.” she suggested softly “Yes I know, darling. Now why don’t you have a good cry, you know it will make you feel so much better.”

“Y… yes...”he agreed, trying manfully to resist the inevitable but failed a usual as the first big fat tear rolled down his cheek “So unfair.”

“Of course it is.” Lucinda sympathised handing him a dainty lace handkerchief as the single tear quickly became a steady rivulet down his cheeks. “But Mother is so fond of you and she did warn you of the dangers.”

As he dabbed the tears a puzzled look came over his face, he wasn’t quite sure this was how he remembered events.

“Yes…but…she didn’t…”he tried to challenge her account but was immediately interrupted.

“Now Phillip, you cannot hold Mummy responsible.” Lucinda said softly yet with a tinge of sternness he had come to be wary of. “You really must be accountable for your own decisions. Now I do hope you are not tyring to say Mummy misled or attempted to deceive you?”

“Well… no… it’s just…”he stumbled but Lucinda quickly interrupted him.

“Mummy is extremely experienced in these matters and was most insistent that you should not exceed the dosage.” she declared her voice now evolving into a more strident, almost threatening tone “After all you were the one who approached her to try to improve your physique. ”

He was forced to concede there was a grain of truth in this but only to the extent that her mother was constantly alluding, and in a most uncomplimentary manner, to his lack of a classic manly build or at least her idea of it. To quell her criticism he eventually agreed to take part in the various exercise programs including of yoga and Pilates at the exclusive health spa she and her friends attended. To his surprise he found it enjoyable and also had  to admit her friends were most friendly and very supportive and treated him like… well… like one of the “girls” as many middle aged matrons tend to refer to themselves. He also had to acknowledge that the massages, aromatherapies, facials, pedicures to mention only a few of the treatments he had with the girls were incredibly relaxing and had a wonderfully calming effect on him. So when his new friends and his future mother-in-law eagerly suggested he avail of a new organic supplement that was proven to improve one’s physical appearance as well as one’s skin and hair he felt it would be rude to the girls to refuse.

Now looking down at the two heavy large fleshy mounds with their exquisite areolas protruding from his chest, he could not stop himself from crying. His decision to follow their advice was something he now bitterly regretted.

Since these two perfectly formed female breasts had first appeared as small pert orbs over the last several days he had made his anxieties known to both Lucinda and her mother but to no avail. They banished his concerns as neurotic and overwrought and refused to allow him to seek medical advice on the grounds that this was surely just a temporary physical reaction and they were extremely confident the offending glands would soon reduce in size before disappearing altogether. But to his horror and consternation they had grown to alarming proportions, well at least for a male. Up to this point he was able to disguise these unwelcome protrusions by binding them with wide bandages and wearing loose fitting shirts but their further enlargement overnight had now made those measures quite pointless.  And if that wasn’t bad enough the arrival of these ghastly mummeries was also accompanied by a small but slightly noticeable weight gain almost entirely centred on his derrière which had now taken on quite a plump aspect. As these dreadful events unfolded he fully expected his future mother-in-law to become even more disparaging about the unwanted and unnatural development that was taking place to his body. However it was quite the opposite, she became extremely sympathetic and very supportive and in a sense almost protective.

Lucinda interrupted his train of thought as she took his hands in hers.

“Surely you must know Mummy only has your best interests at heart.”

Of course he could not deny her mother’s attitude towards him had softened since he had joined her and the girls at the spa and although she was undoubtedly a little overbearing and bossy insisting on adherence to various petty house rules which irked and sometimes embarrassed him. However to be fair and to her credit  her generosity was not in doubt as evinced by the gold Rolex he wore even if he considered this particular neat watch looked more like a ladies model rather than a man’s.

As Lucinda gazed at him with a look of calm assurance, a slight doubt entered his mind and he began to question his recollection of events.

Maybe it wasn’t completely her fault he silently reappraised his situation. Maybe…maybe…I…

He knew from experience the look on Lucinda’s face would only soften with agreement.

“Yes… yes of course.” he eventually replied, his memory of the episode less certain now.

“Now let’s not argue.” Lucinda said as if reading his mind “It’s not the end of the world. Neither Mummy nor I think you are any less a man because of it.”

Her smile reassured him and as she opened her arms he stepped forward into her embrace.

The sensation of his heavy breasts pressing against Lucinda’s slightly smaller bosom was extremely pleasant and suddenly and to his embarrassment his nipples began to protrude.  It did not go unnoticed by his fiancée.

“Phillip!” Lucinda gasped “You’re becoming… excited.”

“I…ah…I don’t…”he mumbled ashamed by this display of feminine arousal.

“Ahem!” Lucinda’s mother announced her arrival with a gentle knock at the open door and stepping inside her eyes were drawn to the offending nipples, she quietly closed the door behind her. “Oh dear I was afraid of this Lucinda.”

Phillip, blushing bright red automatically raised his hands to cover the large glands before quickly moving to pick up the satin dressing gown lying on the bed

“I think yours are slightly  too small darling, I suppose we really  should have done this sooner. We had better go to my bedroom.” she said to Lucinda as Phillip  slipping into the robe quickly made himself decent.

She took Phillip’s hand and led him to the door followed by Lucinda.

“Come along Phillip.”

He was in the corridor and just reaching her bedroom door when he finally found his voice.

“I…I… don’t understand?” he blurted.

“Yes I know dear.” she said ignoring his question as she opened the door and in a voice that was more of a command than a request she added “Now sit at my dressing table, like a good boy.”

“Please Mrs…”he began but immediately became aware of a vexed look descending over her handsome face.

It was an explicit and unmistakable reminder of one of her more humiliating rules and now with such embarrassment attached to him physically and emotionally he was in no position to enter into an argument.

“Yes… Mummy.” he abandoned any thought of protest.

“Please don’t have me to remind you again Phillip.” she said “Or else I’m afraid you will have another appointment with my hairbrush.”

At the mention of this shameful memory he could only drop his eyes to the floor in utter shame.

“He is such a pet but you are far too lenient with him darling.” mother addressed daughter ignoring the utterly embarrassed figure who was now dutifully seated at her dressing table. “You need to be far stricter. Spare the rod…and all that.”

Phillip tried to avoid looking at himself and his protrusions as he watched the two women in the mirror busying themselves at one of the large mahogany tallboys. Eventually they turned around and not wishing to risk irritating his future mother-in-law’s once more he quickly averted his eyes.

“Yes I suppose you are right Mummy.” Lucinda said “We should have done this earlier.”

“Remove your robe Phillip” her mother said.

“But…” he gasped pulling together the quilted satin lapels of the feminine robe he wore I have nothing on underneath.”

“Yes we know, dear.” she answered as if speaking to a child “I have already seen your… assets several times this week alone. And I really don’t think what you have below your waist will frighten me. ”

“Now come along darling. It’s not as if Mummy hasn’t seen you au natural, and she does bathe you when I can’t.” Lucinda said softly as she gently prised his hands away from the material “Surely you must realise we are only trying to help you.”

The mention of this, yet another in an increasing catalogue of shameful episodes was enough to ensure his compliance and he did not resist as Lucinda opened the satin robe to expose his plump and well rounded breasts.

“Extend your arms Phillip.” Mummy instructed in a brusque voice that threatened consequences in the event of a refusal.

“Aaah…. but …that’s…”he again struggled to find the words and again failed miserably not quite believing what was happening as the satin and lace cups covered his breasts. Lucinda’s hands gently settled them snugly into place and smoothed the delicate lace of the upper part of the cups before fussing over the tiny pink bow between the cups until she was satisfied it was perfectly straight.

Once more an attempt was made to mouth an objection but again he was unable to do so and could only watch in horror as the women continued their nefarious task.

 He felt the wide shoulder straps press into his skin and tighten as her mother quickly drew the two sides of the garment together and with expert dexterity secured the six hooks into their corresponding eyes.

In less than thirty seconds he had been safely locked into his first brassiere.

If the women were aware of his distress they did not show it and continued their conversation.

“Yes you were correct Mummy, my brassieres would have been a size, possibly two too small.”Lucinda said standing back to admire their handiwork

“Yes darling I knew it the minute I saw them.” her mother answered and as an afterthought turned briefly to him “Is that more comfortable Phillip?” 

She didn’t wait for his answer,

“Yes dear I’m sure it is, Mummy knows best.”

This was merely the latest in a list of humiliations he had endured recently and had learnt the hard way not to complain or voice objections as such reactions were not received well by his future mother-in-law. Now as on all previous occasions  he once again he submitted to her authority and as usual remained silent however as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. The support from the uniquely feminine garment relieved the small but  burdensome pull on his chest.

“I would have preferred one of your delightful pink ones Mummy, the lace on them is so pretty.” Lucinda said as she adjusted the shoulder straps while her mother once more tugged the cups gently before gently lifting his breasts to check they were correctly positioned. He found this unnecessary fondling of his unwanted breasts extremely humiliating but then again it was just another one in an ever growing list.

He tried to voice an objection but yet again his courage deserted him.

“Yes I know darling.” her mother said speaking over his head “It is such a pretty colour but I expect Phillip would prefer a manly colour so I thought black would be best for his first one.”

“Ahh… ahh…”a strangled gurgling sound finally made its way from his mouth but if the women heard they took no notice.

 “Has he put on a little weight, darling?” her mother asked. “His tush does seem quite plump.”

Lucinda giggled before answering.

“Yes he’s had trouble getting into his trousers in the last few days, I had to give him one of my palazzo pants yesterday.”

“Well we both know the solution to that particular problem.” her mother said and both women laughed as they returned to the tallboy.

Their conversation barely registered with him as he sat mesmerised by the reflection in the mirror, his brain having difficulty processing what his eyes were seeing. He raised his hand to touch the garment in order to establish that this was not an illusion but suddenly felt afraid to touch it. So enthralled by image in the mirror he was completely oblivious to the return of the women. It was only when Lucinda told him to stand did he become aware of a restriction around his legs.

The paralysis that had gripped his vocal cords had gradually extended to his brain and the rest of his body. He looked down in horror to see a large satin and elastic garment had enveloped his calves. With his fiancée at his front and his future mother-in-law behind him and working in tandem they tugged and strained the pale pink long-legged girdle up over his waist. As they did so Lucinda deftly moved his manhood or what now passed for it between his legs ensuring there was no unsightly male bulge. With the same nimbleness the eight hooks and eyes at the side of this formidable garment were fastened with masterful haste before his future mother-in-law finally drew the zipper up its full twelve inches. She ran the palm of her hand over the girdle’s satin panelled rear before giving his right cheek a playful slap.

“Those garters look terrible just dangling loosely.” Lucinda’s mother said, “Spoils the whole line and will make it very uncomfortable for him when sitting.”

“Sit.” she instructed however his limbs were unable to respond and both women had to gently push him back down onto the seat.

Still in a daze he was barely able to comprehend what was happening let alone lift a finger to stop them and watched helplessly as both women expertly rolled dark silk stockings up his legs and secure them to the girdle’s eight dangling garters.

As he was stood up again, the women fussed at his stockings to ensure his seams were straight he suddenly began to experience the intense constriction his torso, thighs and buttocks. The weight he had felt hanging from his chest was now lighter, more evenly distributed although the sensation of tight elastic from his shoulders to his back to his chest was becoming very evident.

The fog slowly began to clear from his brain and he felt shoes being slipped onto his feet.

“Much better.” Lucinda said “Don’t you think so darling?”

He still had not found his voice.

“Come look at yourself in the full length mirror.” her mother added as she led him across the room.

“A…aaah…” a feeble whimper was all he could manage as a shapely feminine figure stared back at him.

His breasts now stood out proudly supported as they were by the well structured satin, elastic and lace brassiere, his torso restricted and compressed by the high-waisted girdle now took on an unmistakeably feminine shape.

“Such a wonderful figure.” Lucinda said admiringly “I must say I do feel jealous Phillip.”

“A good figure is merely the result of the correct corsetry Lucinda.” her mother replied as she tugged gently at the girdle’s garters ensuring his stockings were safely secured before turning her attention to the brassiere’s straps adjusting them slightly until she was satisfied the garment was positioned properly. “This is why I’ve always urged you to wear proper foundation wear darling.”

“You’ll never get me into one of those, Mummy.” Lucinda laughed gesturing to the formidable garment that encased her fiancée.

“More comfortable Phillip?” she asked soothingly as she patted his cheek tenderly but his face, a mixture of alarm and shock, was far too troubled by the image reflected back at him and her question did not register.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, a maid entered and bobbed a curtsy before addressing Lucinda’s mother.

“Excuse me Madam, the…”she begun but stopped mid sentence, her eyes drawn to the girdled figure in front of the mirror.

“Yes Ellen.”Lucinda’s mother snapped impatiently at the distracted maid “What is it?”

“The ladies…”the maid continued her eyes darting between her mistress and Phillip who was still staring into the mirror and appeared completely unaware of her presence. “The ladies arrived earlier and are anxious to see you.”

“Oh dear! With poor Phillip’s unfortunate situation I had forgotten completely about the girls arriving today.” she said. “We had something planned.”

“The ladies are becoming… a little… restless Madam.” Ellen said diplomatically her gaze turning back to Phillip.

Suddenly the low sound of chattering voices from the direction of the stairs filled the room.

“The girls will be here in a minute.” she said.

The words lit up in his brain like a neon sign.

The girls he repeated and suddenly as if a switch had been thrown he emerged from his trance like state and instantly became aware of his tightly restricted body gasping in horror at the reflection in the mirror.

“We can’t allow them to see Phillip in his new foundations.” Lucinda said “and his clothes are not in this room.”

“Oh the girls won’t mind.” her mother said calmly much to his consternation “But I see what you mean.

“Perhaps one of your slips Madam.” Ellen suggested.

“An excellent idea, Ellen.” Lucinda’s mother said. “It will make him feel less embarrassed.”

As the cackle of female voices grew louder Ellen returned with a red satin slip edged with black lace.

“Please raise your arms Miss Phillipa” Ellen said as Lucinda and her mother looked at each other with quizzical looks on their faces which quickly turned into broad smiles

The maid became embarrassed and blurted an apology.

“Oh I’m sorry Madam, it’s just that…”

“Quite understandable Ellen.” Lucinda’s mother replied “We are all a bit confused. Phillipa, yes I like that, I have an aunt Phillipa a most elegant lady.””

Lucinda laughed lightly and taking Phillip’s arm looked at him with a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure Miss Phillipa doesn’t mind. Do you darling.”

Of course he was highly insulted but considering his vulnerable position now was not the time to admonish the girl.

“No of course not.” he lied and smiled weakly.

“That’s a good girl… Philippa” Lucinda said breezily and much to his irritation but he restrained his impulse to chide her.

“Phillip darling, unless you wish the girls to see you in your girdle and brassiere,” Lucinda’s mother said “I strongly suggest you allow Ellen to proceed.”

The voices were now just outside the door, his brain was in turmoil and could feel the panic rising inside.

“It really would be more dignified if you wore a slip but it’s up to you.” Lucinda said.

A quick glance in the mirror was enough to confirm his fiancée’s opinion and his arms shot up. The maid slid the shoulder straps over his raised arms and gently drew the satin material over his bosom and down his smooth girdled body. She quickly settled the lace hem just over his knees and arranged the slip’s cups over his brassiere just as the door opened. 

“Julia, darling.” The first through the door gushed in a plumy tone acknowledging Lucinda’s mother as the room suddenly filled up with the unique burbling cacophony of several female voices, all competing for each other’s attention.

As luck would have it Lucinda and her mother had moved to the other side of the room and the unwelcome interlopers were so deeply involved in exchanging kisses with Lucinda and her mother as well as continuing their separate and mutual conversations they appeared not to notice him. Observing his obvious discomfort Ellen moved in front of him and he gratefully accepted her shelter.

“Thank you Ellen.” he whispered.

“Don’t worry Miss Phillipa.” she replied in a barely audible voice, repeating her earlier insult but he was so frightened the offence barely registered. “The ladies rarely look in a servant’s direction unless they require something. In a moment or two you may be able to sneak out.”

By this stage the women were gathered in a group around Lucinda and her mother and from his semi concealed position he could clearly hear every word.

“Where is that darling fiancée of yours Lucinda?” a woman in a lilac pants suit gushed and this elicited further excitement from the party.

“We looked everywhere, the Blue drawing, the library, …” another lady added.

“The south terrace and the gardens…”a woman in a pink outfit contributed to the list of locations searched.

“We even tried the pool…” yet another interjected.

“Don’t forget the sauna and steam room.” a lady dressed in black said which brought loud and unseemly raucous laughter from all concerned and to Phillip’s surprise including Lucinda.

Whatever will the girls think if they see me like this? the thought screamed like a jet engine inside his head completely unaware just how effeminate the sentence sounded. He desperately wanted to run but fear had immobilised him and he stood mannequin like behind Ellen. They are so used to seeing me in a manly way at the spa, after all I yelped only that one time when we all had our legs waxed at the spa, and last week when some of us had our eyebrows plucked, Wendy and Margaret howled whereas I barely flinched.

“Anyway darling.” The women in the lilac pants suits said to Lucinda “We decided to surprise you and take you and your mother for some lunch and a little shopping after all you do have a wedding in the next few months. We were hoping Phillip would accompany us, to give a male perspective.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the group and to Philip’s horror one of them suddenly became aware of the two figures edging towards the door.

“Julia. Who is that?” another of the group said in a surprised voice as her eye caught Emma and Phillip who, startled by their exposure, had come to an abrupt stop.

Everyone turned in the direction of the two figures now mere inches from making their escape.

“Move away girl.” one of the matrons said in a sharp voice and as Emma slowly inched away the young man was revealed to the full gaze of the women.

The chattering stopped quite suddenly and a strange silence engulfed the room as every pair of eyes descended on him, their faces arranged into quizzical looks as they surveyed the figure clad only in lingerie. As the women slowly advanced his brain was telling him to flee but his legs rooted firmly to the floor were unable to comply.

“Is….that Phillip?” the nearest woman to him asked hesitantly.

“Surely not.” her friend doubted as she too moved a little closer.

A low whimper left his mouth as the group were now upon him.

“Oh…my.” another said “I believe it is.”

An excited babbling rose up from their ranks as his identity was confirmed beyond doubt.

“Are those real?” one of them asked as she reached out and felt his right breast causing him to recoil from her touch.

“Yes ladies quite real.” Lucinda’s mother replied.

“He looks so…”another said and still amazed at his appearance did not finish the sentence.

“So wonderfully feminine.” her friend completed it for her.

“Julia…what…how…?” all the voices jabbering at once seemed to merge into one.

Phillip who by now had begun sobbing was being consoled by the women as Lucinda’s mother recounted the unfortunate events that led to his present predicament. He scarcely heard a word as the women took turns in embracing him each holding him tightly to their ample bosoms. Although greatly reassured by their concern and kind ministrations he was nonetheless slightly unnerved by their hands lifting his slip and examining his beasts and tightly constricted buttocks. Naturally the ladies took more than a passing interest in that special region between his legs and Lucinda, of all people, proud of the method of concealment she had used drew their attention to how smooth the area was. Heaping humiliation upon humiliation, more than one hand availed of her mother’s invitation to inspect the zone. Some remarks about the absence of any visible sign of his manhood did cause more tears but once again he was comforted and assured that despite the appearance of a generous bosom and a noticeable lack of a masculine appendage the girls still considered him quite manly.

As he composed himself he saw Lucinda glancing at the clock and became a little agitated.

“Ladies I am so sorry I did not realise the time.” she said as she kissed her mother “I have a hairdresser appointment at Sassoon’s in an hour and I can’t cancel again,  I’m sure you understand.”

They all nodded supportively as she moved to Phillip kissed him on the lips.

“Now promise me, you will be a good boy for the girls Phillip.” she smiled, her right hand discretely falling to his left breast and gently squeezing it she bent forward and whispered in his ear “The three of us can snuggle up on the sofa tonight and you can tell me all about it.”

“I…but…it’s…”he tried to raise an objection but she had already moved to the door, his attempt to follow her was immediately cut off as the women moved between them.

“That’s such a shame Lucinda.” the lady in the lilac pants suit sighed taking a firm hold of Philip’s hand “We were hoping to visit various bridal boutiques to view some gowns and perhaps even persuade you to try on some.”

“Yes that is a shame.” Lucinda said smiling yet without much conviction. “But I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now I really must fly. Do take good care of him ladies.” Lucinda said as she opened the door.

“Oh we always do.” her mother said to a chorus of excited agreement from the ladies. “Isn’t that right girls?”

As the door closed and the ladies turned to look at him he instinctively knew his constricting girdle wasn’t the only reason for the tightness in his stomach.

The Dress That Inspired a Story

I have just purchased a dress that inspired one of my stories and if you want to know the details, please read the post below.

As I might have already mentioned, I spend quite some time watching all sorts of TV shows because I very much enjoy seeing the lady presenters and the pretty clothes they are wearing. Judging by the multitude of youtube channels dedicated to such content, I am apparently not alone in this [hobby]. Though I can’t say what the other viewers get from such content, to me it is, in all intents and purposes, nothing short of pornography. Perhaps an especially dangerous form of pornography as it is even more readily available than the regular stuff. While it does seem work safe from the outside (at least until I lose control and whip it out), it can consume an enormous amount of time. I can easily spend an hour going through the TV archives and I even compiled a database of wardrobe pieces that are worn by multiple presenters at different times. More often than not, seeing an especially alluring outfit will inspire me to start writing a story. Usually, these stories never progress beyond the point of a fragment, but every once in a while, I manage to write one from start to finish.

The dress in question was worn by a presenter that, for a long time, had worn only pants on camera. Not that there was anything wrong with that, since a) anyone should be free to wear whatever they wanted and b) she is an attractive lady and looked very good in the pants she wore, and she did wear them along with pretty blouses and heels anyway. She wasn’t the only presenter to eschew skirts on screen, but somehow the idea of seeing her wear one did obsess me. I’d scan the whole TV archive of shows, but with no luck, and all I could do was to wait for her to appear on screen and that, as the camera panned out, the garment below her waist would not split into two separate legs. This went on for years. She could be gone off air for months at a time, only to reappear in her usual attire.

Until one summer day, when she did the day show wearing a pale blue sleeveless top and a pair of tight black pants, but for the evening show, she wore a black, sleeveless A-line dress, cinched with a pretty pink belt. Over the course of the following weeks, she’d be either in pants or in a dress, but after a month or so, the floodgates opened and it was only dresses for her from then on, even up to present day. The dresses she’d wear at that time were all of the same style, sleeveless or short sleeved, knee length, tight at the bodice and full skirted. Not the variation a connoisseur of my calibre would wish for, but considering it was her that was wearing them, I was not going to complain. After all, the dresses, albeit similar to one another, were all rather pretty, but one of them especially caught my eye. You can see it here in the picture, a yellow dress with a choker neckline. I remember looking at how the pleats of the skirt swayed as she turned away from the camera and walked off screen at the end of the show.

About a year later, I wrote the story Proof, which you can read on fictionmania. There are various degrees to which the outfits that inspired a story are actually featured in the story, but in Proof, I’d say that the dress plays quite a central role. Maybe it was something about that high neckline, combined with the pleated skirt that drew me to it, who knows.

About two years ago, I discovered an internet store that sells second hand clothes at reasonable prices and with a reasonable service (free returns) and not before long, this too became my new porn, but this time it is my credit card that I whip out when my passion gets the best of me. So anyway, there I was, doing my daily browse through the new items when I, by chance, spotted a dress I thought I had already seen before.

 

It was the dress. While I was weighing the pros and cons, someone bought it and the dress was removed from the site, but apparently they returned it and the dress was re-listed. This time around, I couldn’t help myself and pulled the trigger. Imagine my excitement when it arrived. Now, I am not going to post any pictures, but you will be happy to know I am wearing it as I type this blog post.

I wasn’t even sure if I would keep the dress at all - it was quite pricey, by far the most expensive garment I’d bought on that site, and rather plain, being made of cotton, whereas I naturally favor silk or at least 100 % polyester made to imitate it, and it is not even lined. Though after trying it on, I might change my mind because that yellow tone is nothing short of fantastic when it hits your eyes, and the pleats do move prettily when I walk. Since it’s unlined, it means I can wear one of my pretty slips underneath, and of course, there is something about that choker neckline…

What's in a bloody name?

A friend of mine recently published a feminization story and I gave them permission to use one of my old drawings for a cover.  When they asked what name I should be credited under, I said that it didn't matter and that they might as well just use my actual name.  More on that topic a bit. 

Surprisingly, despite knowing them for a few years, I had no clue that my friend had any interest in the feminization genre.  In fact, I was embarrassed that they were aware that I draw art of that nature. They probably wouldn't object if I gave their story a plug, so if you feel like checking it out, it's on Amazon under the title Girls Night: An Erotic Adventure.  

Am I the only one who's noticed that if you click on the Smashwords link at the top of this blog, Bea's books no longer appear to be available on that site?  I have no idea if their removal has something to do with the fact that Bea is no longer around to maintain his account there or if there's some other reason.

A lot of Bea's stories can still be obtained via Mags Inc, though they're pricier and I'm fairly certain they don't have all the same ones.  I know for a fact that they don't have all the stories that were once for sale on either of Bea's old websites.  I'm lucky to have a sizable collection of Bea's stories saved, but now that he's gone, I'm sad knowing that there are some that I may never have the opportunity to read... unless there are fans out there who feel like sharing.  I remember there was one called "A Full Time Student" I was curious about.  While it may be a long shot, if anyone reading this happens to have that one, I'd be grateful if they got in touch.

Bea very kindly offered to send me any of his longer stories for free whenever I asked.  While I got a number of stories that way, I regret that I didn't take him up on that offer as much as I would have liked because I didn't want to seem like I was taking advantage of his generosity, plus I didn't like to disturb him, especially knowing that his health was not good. Once, I paid for a story, stupidly thinking he wouldn't notice somehow, but he sent me an annoyed note about it afterward.

Some of Bea's books can be found under the pennames Maureen Glasgow and Tiffany Mellis, but I've forgotten if there was a reason for using alternate nom de plumes for certain stories.  I've used multiple aliases online over the years, but that's partly because I've had difficulty coming up with a name I'm comfortable with.  I'm happiest with rocketdave.  I have a lot of regret about picking out the stupid username rocketXpert for the deviantaART account I reserved for my fetishistic art, but it feels too late to change now, as much as I might like to.

When I did illustrations for Sandy Thomas, it was under the name Debbie... just Debbie, because I couldn't think of a good last name.  It was only within the past few months, over a decade too late, that I hit upon what I thought was a perfect last name that I'd really like to find an excuse to use, but I worry about diluting my brand even further than I already have if I were to switch names again.  

It almost seems like it doesn't matter what name I go by since I've done such a poor job protecting my anonymity.  I partly blame Bea for that.  When I gave him permission to put some of my art on his site, he credited me by my actual name, even though he probably should have consulted me about that first.  Of course, it's also partly my own damn fault for signing my art, since I'd had it drilled into my head that that's something I should always do.  The people who advised that probably weren't considering that maybe I would do some art that I didn't necessarily want my name attached to. 

During my earliest correspondence with Bea, because I hadn't identified myself, he tried out a couple random girls' names on me, which I felt a little weird about, and I replied that I wasn't sure if I even wanted to go by a feminine name, but if I ever did, I thought Debbie would be appropriate, since it kind of sounded like my initials, D.B.  In his response, an exasperated Bea wrote, "What a fuss about a bloody name!" 

Incidentally, this piece, titled "The Feminine Mystique," is the one my friend used for the cover of their story.  It's kind of a coincidence that they'd ask about this particular drawing when they did since I had started taking steps towards redoing it.  That's not to say that I think the original is bad.   A lot of my older art I can't stand to look at, but this one I think retains its charm.  However, my style has improved, and I thought it would be interesting to redo some of my old art (plus it saves me from having to rack my brains for new ideas).  

You know, I used to rankle a little at Bea referring to my drawings as "cartoons," which may seem odd since I love cartoons, plus my art can certainly be cartoony, though that hasn't always been a deliberate choice.  In the case of some of my earlier work, I was just doing the best I could at the time.  

The Stopover

 Hi everyone,

here's a shortie that I've recently written. It's meant to be a part of a bigger story that I'm trying to write, so please excuse any plot gaps or mysteries.

Some Problematic Art

 

This sequence, which I titled "Don't Ride with Strangers," is a remake/reimagining of a much older piece of mine by the same name.  It was the most recent feminization piece I posted to deviantART, but I took it down it a few months after the fact because I feared that someone in charge might have taken issue with the age of the guy in it or might do so in the future, even though as a cartoon drawing, I don't think anyone could definitively pinpoint whatever his age is supposed to be.  Ironically, part of the reason I decided to redo that earlier piece is because, aside from thinking I could do a better job now, I was concerned that I'd given the guy in it a much too youthful appearance the first time around and wanted to make him older, but due to some complications, I thought there was a chance he might still not look old enough for someone's liking.

I wrote about this at length on dA, but I'll try to give a more concise account of events here.

In September of last year, I received a notification from deviantART informing me that the account I'd created for my fetishistic work had been suspended and was in imminent danger of being deleted unless I removed certain artwork that was supposedly in violation of that site's guidelines.  Frustratingly, when I pressed for clarification, I received an unhelpful form reply stating that they were unable to cite specific examples, forcing me to guess which images had landed me in hot water.  

Although this situation was annoying, I can't pretend like I had absolutely no clue as to which pictures of mine had potentially been deemed objectionable.  I've done a number of femdom drawings of young male teens being feminized and/or spanked, etc.  This kind of thing is not uncommon in petticoating art and the like, and while I personally see it as relatively harmless, I can understand why some people might have a problem with it.

Honestly, I think pretty much all my erotic fantasies have problematic elements.  While it's obviously important that anything sexual in nature in the real world be done between consenting adults, I can't remember the last time I experienced arousal by fantasizing about something totally "vanilla" or doing something entirely voluntarily, which is why nonconsensual femdom and forced feminization appeal to me.  

When I first started exploring erotica on the internet, some of the earliest femdom stories that resonated with me were ones in which the male protagonists were not yet full-grown adults.  For one thing, at the time, I was much closer to the ages of those characters, but even now, I feel like I relate more to characters who are more immature, naive and inexperienced.  I just find it more exciting when someone like that is thrust into a sexy situation.  Also, from a logical perspective, when the activities in question are nonconsensual in some way, if the protagonist isn't yet an independent adult, it provides a handy explanation as to why he simply doesn't walk away.

One of my favorite stories by Bea may be "Maid Machiavelli," which is about the secret relationship between a guy and his stepmother's dominant maid, who the narration states has been sexually controlling him since at least the time he had hit puberty.  The word "groomer" gets bandied about way too loosely nowadays by bigoted conservatives, but if we were to apply real world standards, what occurs in that story is textbook grooming.  In reality, that maid would absolutely deserve to go to jail.  Still, I can't help finding it hot... as fiction, that is.  Then there's Bea's longer story "Aunt Fanny's Girls," in which the protagonist ends up in a sexual relationship with his high school guidance counselor.  There are possibly other examples that aren't coming to mind now.  Since I can differentiate between fantasy and reality and have no problem saying that there's certain content that I enjoy in stories that I would condemn in real life, I don't feel an excessive amount of guilt over what turns me on, especially since I don't fantasize about hurting anyone, but rather imagine being the submissive/victim in any given scenario.

That said, I do have qualms over the rare stories Bea wrote in which he inserted female characters who were uncomfortably young.  The reason I don't have an issue with femdom art or stories with male characters who haven't yet reached adulthood is because I believe the purpose of such characters is usually to essentially serve a surrogate for the author/artist and the male fans of such work.  On the other hand, if the author/artist is involving female characters who are on the overly young side in their work, I'm afraid it does make me wonder a little about them.  Sorry, Bea.

After I thought I'd sorted everything out with deviantART and my account had been reinstated, I received another notification a few days later letting me know that a moderator had deleted an installment of an incomplete feminization comic of mine.  They claimed that the male character in it was under eighteen.  What made that decision so baffling was that, not only was there no visible nudity, sex or even touching of any sort in it, I hadn't even intended the male to be below under eighteen in that case.  It seems that someone simply saw that he was shorter than the female character and automatically declared him to be underage, which is utterly absurd, but I had no way to prove what my intentions were.  I think taller women are sexy; so sue me.  I may need to put a disclaimer in all my art from now on that all the imaginary participants are above the age of consent... assuming I ever find the necessary drive to get back into drawing.  

The Bridal Replacement Hypothesis - Short story with illustration

 

Haven't contributed anything to this blog in a long time, Bea would not be impressed.

Below is a story (with illustration) posted elsewhere, so some readers may have read it, for those who haven't hopefully you will enjoy it.

Take care 

Carrie

The Bridal Replacement Hypothesis  

by

CarrieP

 

 

“This is a most unfortunate turn of events.” Caroline’s mother sighed wearily, unable to disguise her annoyance.

William, always anxious when his future mother-in-law became vexed, was somewhat relieved that at least this time he would not be the subject of her ire. Nevertheless, he did feel a slight nervousness in the pit of his stomach and as there were no pockets in his fitted jacket he felt his trembling fingers reach for the pure silk shantung of his pressed pleat trousers. He hated this outfit but at least it could, albeit at a stretch, be considered an almost manly shade of deep coral, unlike the pale lavender palazzo pants he had to wear yesterday.

“Yes most unfortunate, Mother.”Caroline repeated in a grave voice “You were quite specific about my dress size; these gowns are far too small for me. I could not possibly try them on. How very… disappointing.”

 William regarded his fiancée with a look of incredulidity and was about to say something but a stern look, perceptible to no one but him dissuaded him from uttering a word. He was acutely aware of Caroline’s abhorrence of all things inordinately feminine, frills and flounces were looked upon with scorn, silks and satins rarely tolerated and when they were, would take the form of a mannish shirt or a plain top. Her reluctance to conform to her mother’s view of femininity was a constant source of friction between them and William, much to his discomfort, was usually caught in the middle. However, once the young man was safely ensconced in their palatial home Caroline’s mother seemed to be drawn to her future son-in law, fussing and fawning over him as if he was a favourite pet.  With this new distraction in her life she seemed less inclined to badger her daughter about her decidedly unfeminine sartorial choices. Naturally this suited Caroline perfectly as she had more important things to think about than fulfilling her mother’s ideal version of the ideal and dutiful daughter. For his part William considered her mother’s attentiveness as merely a passing enthusiasm as the newest addition to the household and believed that once she had gotten used to a masculine presence in the house her attention would again revert to Caroline.

Unfortunately for William, it did not work out the way he expected, she seemed to become more attached to him and as the weeks passed he was pulled inexorably into her orbit. Despite the cavernous size of the house he was unable to escape her constant attentions and had almost by default become her companion.

Of course he had complained to Caroline, on the infrequent occasions when she was present in the house, but she had only to smile at him and he would have done anything she wished. After all she had chosen him when she could have had her pick of any man. Remarkable as this was, what amazed him even more was that she had never baulked at his dreadful, embarrassing secret. In fact, she said it drew them even closer. He often wished he could be more forceful and insist she inform her mother that he should, at the very least, be allowed choose his own clothes. Well… at least twice a week…if, of course, that would be agreeable with her mother. But she always managed to either distract him with her charming smile or chide him in a severe tone depending on how thin her patience with him was. Either way, he never found the courage to deny her mother’s requests, no matter how demeaning.

Now in this alien environment of an exclusive bridal boutique, Caroline’s austere look was quickly followed by her disarming smile and once more he was both relieved and confused in equal measure but it had the desired effect and his heart fluttered like a love struck Romeo gazing at his Juliet. Unfortunately, the moment did not last very long.

“Do stop fidgeting William.” Caroline’s mother said brusquely, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh Martha, leave the poor boy alone.” Mrs Fitzmaurice, her friend, intervened and slid a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “It’s understandable that a young man would be slightly uneasy in these surroundings.”

“Yes, Martha .” agreed Mrs Cavandish, another companion, as she  moved  to his side in a show of support and caressing his cheek in a most affectionate manner.“You are far too hard on William.”

“Don’t you worry, William.” Mrs Claybourne, yet another friend joined the conversation in his defence, taking his hand and stroking it she added with a light laugh “We are here to protect you.”

William grateful for their support and protection smiled appreciatively and lowered his eyes respectfully, a gesture he had only recently come to learn was greatly cherished by these and the  other society matrons in his future mother-in-law’s circle.  For all his faults- and he had many- he was a quick learner  and had  adopted this pose on a regular basis and although he knew it made him seem more docile it was a price he was willing to pay to avoid Caroline’s mother displeasure. He was aware that if she fell into a foul humour he would bear the brunt of her exasperation for days. With no guarantee that his fiancé would be around to protect him he would have to rely on these ladies to provide a bulwark against her domineering mother.  Of course it was degrading for a man to seek sanctuary in the company of these middle-aged ladies but in the weeks that he had entered their home his timidity had become so ingrained he felt he had no other option.

“I can see there is no need for me to come to your aid, darling.” Caroline laughed lightly as her mother stubbornly continued to frown.

However, his practiced display of demureness and deference could soften even the most austere and demanding of female hearts and Caroline’s mother was no exception.

 “Well, perhaps I may have been a little tetchy.” she conceded begrudgingly but her face began to soften, “But this is a most annoying development. I was assured by Madame Margot that she would have Caroline’s exact size. We cannot decide on her bridal gown by just looking at it on a rack or hanger.”

“I am so sorry Lady Congrove.” A deeply apologetic voice called from across the room as Madame Margot entered closely followed by an assistant.

“This is most embarrassing.” Madame Margot proffered her apologies and added a curtsy for good measure.

By now William had retreated to a place of safety and tried to blend in with the rails of bridal gowns but the hue of his deep coral pantsuit made that difficult, thankfully all eyes were on the two women. He observed Madame Margot take the impact of Caroline’s mother anger and although empathising with the unfortunate dressmaker he was greatly relieved that for once it was not him that was the subject of her wrath. Madame Margot was suggesting several other styles that would be similar but Caroline‘s mother annoyance was inextinguishable and she continued to upbraid the misfortunate woman.

“Have one of your assistants model them for us.” Caroline’s mother finally demanded.

“I had thought of that your ladyship.” Madame Margot replied sheepishly and took a step back before continuing “But unfortunately none of my girls are the same dress size.”

A grave silence fell on the room as Caroline’s mother’s face took on a dark expression.

“Perhaps…” the voice of Madame Margot’s assistant nervously broke the stillness, drawing the attention of both women “Perhaps that young lady over there would oblige us. She appears to be just the right size.”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned on the figure in the deep coral pantsuit and after a few moments the air was filled with the sound of female giggling. Even Caroline’s mother was not immune and joined in as William’s face turned crimson.

“Preposterous!” she exclaimed “That’s not a girl that is my darling William, my future son-in-law. Although now that you say it, he does have the delicate features associated with our sex.”

“You silly girl.” Madame Margot scolded her assistant “I am so sorry for this girl’s idiocy, Lady Congreve. ”

The laughter petered out and a strange hush fell on the room as every woman present mentally measured William.

“No… wait…perhaps the girl is right.” Mrs Cavandish said as all the women, now with curious expressions on their faces, slowly advanced on the young man.

“He does have a certain …”Mrs Claybourne mused out loud.

“Girlish charm.” Mrs Fitzmaurice added helpfully.

“Exactly.” her friend replied as she repeated, “Girlish charm.”

William winced but before he could protest the assistant had her tape measure around his waist and Madame Margot was running her eyes over his body mentally calculating the young man’s contours.

“Yes, yes I think it would work.” she said. “Not perfect of course, your ladyship. But good enough to model all the gowns.”

“Gowns!” William repeated “You…cannot…”

The women now excited by this strange idea babbled frantically to each other, drowning out his protests.

“The bosom, Madame.” Her assistant said a little tentatively “We could use some foam or similar material.”

It took William a few moments to realise the women considered this ridiculous idea to be a serious proposition and he decided to move towards the door, however in those few seconds of hesitation he had become surrounded by every female in the room and now had no means of escape. His eyes searched for Caroline but saw she was in conversation with her mother and Madame Margot.

“What a splendid idea.” Mrs Fitzmaurice chirped and beaming at him added, “You would be doing us all a great service and ensure we have not wasted our time coming here today.”

“Yes wonderful.” Mrs Claybourne agreed “It would be a shame to leave without seeing these beautiful gowns modelled.”

“Please…ladies…I must…I can’t…please…” an incoherent stream left his mouth as panic rose up from within.

He barely noticed his feet touch the floor as the two women, followed by the rest of the entourage, steered him across the room towards a pair of large double doors with the nameplate Dressing Room 1. He continued to object but his pleadings were lost in their chatter.

As the door closed behind him he gasped audibly as his eyes darted about the large room, bridal gowns and accessories appeared to occupy every available space, some on rails, some laid carefully over chairs, others on mannequins, shoes stacked neatly on metal frames. William felt his knees tremble at the sight and looked towards the door for a chance to escape but he saw Madame Margot turn a key in the lock. He now knew he was well and truly trapped with no means of liberation. His head fogged and his body becoming strangely detached from his brain by this dreadful turn of events, he was only vaguely aware of instructions being issued and hands moving deftly and quickly over his body. It took him several seconds to realise his top had been removed.

“What is this for?” Mrs Cavandish asked pointing to the wide bandaging around William’s chest.

“N…no…please Caroline…not here…”William blurted pleading with his fiancée who was now by his side and reassuringly holding his hand.

Caroline stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s quite all right darling.” she reassured him quietly unfolding the tightly bound fabric.”You are among friends no one will judge you here.”

“William has a regrettable condition for a male ladies.” her mother explained to the women looking on with wide-eyed curiosity as Caroline completed her task and a modest yet  fully formed female bosom revealed itself on William’s chest.

The spectacle was greeted by gasps followed quickly by admiring exclamations.

“May we…would he mind…” Mrs Fitzmaurice asked, clearly perplexed by the unveiling of William’s perfectly formed feminine bust.

Instinctively, William raised his hands to shield his protruding mounds which instantly drew a strong rebuke from his future mother-in-law.

“William.” she snapped in a manner that he knew and dreaded. “Did I give you permission to cover your bosom? Please do not be rude to the ladies.”

He reluctantly but quickly obeyed and dropped his hands.

“That’s better. This day is stressful enough without your display of girlish modesty.” she chided him but in a gentler voice and gestured to her friends to inspect the protruding glands. “You should be proud of your beautiful breasts now let the ladies examine them.”

There was no need for a second invitation and immediately William felt hands cupping his shameful secret.

“Remarkable.” Mrs Claybourne said as she held both breasts in her hands as William wished the ground would somehow open and he could slip quietly away. The other woman smiled as she added, “Just like a girl’s, so pert and firm.”

It was bad enough that Caroline had told her mother of his mortifying condition, who in turn had informed Jenny, her lady’s maid. The girl, when Caroline or her mother was unavailable, was now tasked with binding the hideous things in the wide stretch fabric every morning and removing it in the evenings. As he quickly discovered it was also obvious, from their furtive glances at his chest, the housemaids now also appeared to be aware of his embarrassing secret. But he had little time to dwell on that now.

Mrs Fitzmaurice edged her friend aside and a different pair of hands now fondled him. A deep shame was etched on his face and it did not go unnoticed.

“No need to be embarrassed William.“ she said in a sympathetic voice “Two of my maids are at least a size smaller.”

“I’m sure you would like to have them covered, darling.” Caroline asked, coming to his rescue with Madame Margot in tow.

“Yes…yes…”he blurted and continued a little louder than he had intended “I have to get out of here.”

“William! You know you cannot disappoint the ladies.” his fiancée replied sternly as she gestured to the eager female faces, her tone almost indistinguishable from her mother’s and making abundantly clear to everyone in the room  that she would brook no dissent. “But first we need to cover those breasts of yours. That is what you want, isn’t it.”

The words could not leave his mouth, he could only nod his agreement and swallowed hard as his saw Madame Margot pick up a box and open it.

He gasped as he saw her hand the item to Caroline’s mother and felt a queasy sensation begin to form in his stomach. Unable to face the humiliation he closed his eyes and felt unseen hands slip the brassiere up his arms. A silence fell on the room he could hear the laboured breathing of every woman present. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

“It’s only fitting that Mother puts you into your first brassiere.” Caroline voice whispered in his ear and he felt the cool elastic stretch under his arms and across his back. There was a noticeable tugging as her fingers nimbly fitted the hooks into the corresponding eyes.

Another tear escaped from his firmly closed eyes and made its way down his cheek as he now felt her hands slip inside the brassiere and settle his breasts in the cups, he felt her warm breath on his neck as she adjusted the shoulder straps.

“No need to be upset, darling.” Caroline’s mother said affectionately as she felt his breasts through the brassiere’s lace and satin cups, “It’s not as if this is the first time others have seen your bosom. You are among friends and family. Now dry your eyes, like a good girl.”

“As you can see ladies,” Madame Margot addressed the women who were clearly fascinated by the young man before them, she placed her hand under his left breast “This particular brassiere has the effect of pushing up and enhancing the bosom.”

He slowly opened his eyes and despite the deep shame and distress engulfing him the smiling, empathic and encouraging faces of the ladies present offered him a small degree of calm. However this was short lived as he now saw Madame Margot and her assistant busying themselves arranging various voluminous gowns on the chairs and sofas throughout the large room. His anxiety quickly resurfaced.

Nooooo… a silent scream roared inside his head, oh no…please…no…

He had been so overwhelmed by the events of the last few minutes that he had not noticed his pants were now around his ankles and his legs were being lifted one at a time as the last vestige of his male, albeit nominal, male clothing was removed. It was only the ladies excited voices that snapped him back into the moment.

“Oh Martha!” Mrs Claybourne gasped as she walked behind to inspect him “You have put him into a girdle.”

He had become so used to wearing these hideous, repulsive feminine foundations that he had almost forgotten he was wearing the dreadful  garment.

He felt a hand on the heavy satin at his rear and he shivered as Mrs Fitzmaurice ran her hand down the corresponding satin panel at his front, letting it linger between his legs for a moment that felt like an hour.

“And stockings!” Mrs Cavandish exclaimed as she fingered the garters holding up the sheer hosiery.

To his consternation, the other ladies made a similar inspection and from the corner of his eye he could see the smirks on Madame Margot and her assistant.

He felt tears of abject humiliation welling up once more.

“As we girls know only too well,” Caroline’s mother addressed her friends in a matter-of-fact tone, as she tugged at the girdle’s wide heavy elastic waistband pulling it up an inch  “males have very little control over their base desires  and have a ghastly tendency to become excited when in the presence of our sex. Docile as William is, he is still a male and a prisoner of these disgusting cravings. Like all of you, my household is staffed exclusively by female servants and it would be most inappropriate if he surrendered to his male lust and such an objectionable display was witnessed by my housemaids. As you can see the girdle is quite effective in ensuring the male organ is kept under complete control.”

“Quite right Martha.” Mrs Claybourne agreed “And as we can see he is nice and smooth , just like a girl. No dreadful male bulge.”

“A good firm girdle keeps our bodies under control.” Mrs Fitzmaurice said approvingly “Why should it be any different for a male, although we never considered such a delicate soul as William to be associated with that appalling and beastly sex.”

“Yes, he is such a sweet, adorable creature.” Mrs Cavandish concurred, adding her reassurance ”And no need to feel embarrassed William I am wearing the very same style. A little constricting perhaps but my figure is all the better for it.”

“He is such a sweetheart. It is why I’m marrying him.” Caroline said as she hugged him closely, her hand falling to his satin clad buttocks, drawing him closer. “Isn’t that right, darling.”

By now words were beyond William and he could only nod and watch in horror as Madame Margot and her assistant approached with a bulky garment carried between them.

“As the style you requested is ballgown, Lady Congreve,” Madame Margot said “I would suggest a seven tier petticoat.”

“Seven tiers?” she repeated as she examined it and obviously impressed gave her approval“Yes it does look delightful.”

“Yes, your ladyship.” Madame Margot said as her assistant held up the voluminous underskirts. “Seven beautiful layers of very stiff and gathered petticoat netting, the outer layer has lace around the bottom of the hem. It has an inbuilt silk slip for the bride’s comfort so she will not itch. The netting is so stiff a crinoline is not required as its stands alone. Wearing this under such a beautiful gown will make the bride feel truly feminine.”

The underskirt was laid on the floor in front of William who stared at it in terror.

Caroline looked at her mother and could not hide her expression of relief that she had been spared the ordeal of donning such an exceedingly feminine garment. Of course her mother was far too busy concentrating on her future son-in-law to notice.

William, unable to comprehend what was happening, was guided into the opening and in a matter of seconds he was encased in the wide petticoat as Madame Margot ensured it fitted correctly around his hips.

“Perfect Madame.” her assistant cooed fluffing out the net underskirts as William looked on with a pained expression, still unable to grasp how he had found himself in this humiliating position.

“Yes, splendid now help me with the first gown.” Madame Margot instructed the young woman

The magnitude of what was happening seemed to paralyse him and just as he was powerless when he was placed in the enormous and heavy petticoats, he was now incapable of preventing himself being encased in this vast swathe of satin. Madame Margot and her assistant placed the gown over his head and as the assistant began buttoning the gown’s bodice from the back Madame Margot was arranging the skirt over his petticoats. Mrs Fitzmaurice and Mrs Claybourne delighted with this unfolding spectacle could not resist helping with the operation. William remained motionless as Mrs Cavandish placed his hands into matching satin opera length gloves and silently watched her roll them up  his arms. As this was happening the two ladies then arranged the gown’s long train ensuring it was perfectly aligned.

Satisfied they had completed their task they joined Caroline and her mother to admire their handiwork.

“Oh…my dear William” Mrs Fitzmaurice gushed “You certainly do look the part.”

“He certainly does. ” Mrs Claybourne exclaimed, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her “Such a beautiful gown. Please tell us, how does it feel?”

“Do you feel as pretty as you look?” Mrs Cavandish asked.

His eyes remained closed but this only heightened his other senses and he was now even more aware of the tightness of his girdle and the stockings tugging on its six garters, the straps of the brassiere bit into his shoulders and the flesh around his chest. Even through his satin gloved fingers he could feel the softness of the gown. As these sensations danced inside his brain some other voice was suggesting that this may be a nightmare and he would soon awake.

His eyes opened and flickered momentarily as they began to focus and his worst fears were realised.

The reflection in the mirrored wall opposite confirmed the sensations he was experiencing were indeed reality.

“Let us see how the gown moves as you walk.” Madame Margot said gesturing him to walk but he stood rooted to the floor still transfixed on the image staring back at him.

“William!” Caroline’s mother’s sharp tone immediately snapped him back into the present and she took his gloved hand “Walk.”

The bulk of the dress seemed to weigh him down and his every step filled the air with a distinct, uniquely feminine swishing sound as the stiff netting of his petticoats swayed and moved against the heavy satin of the gown’s skirt. He could feel his breasts, now free of their binding, move within the confines of his new brassiere. It was a ghastly experience but from the look on his future mother-in-law’s beaming face, it was not one she shared. There was warmth in her smile he had never seen before and she gazed on him with unbridled affection. The others looked on as he was led around the room by his joyful  and smiling escort to the sound of rustling satin.

“Such a pity it wasn’t in your size Caroline.” Mrs Cavandish consoled the bride to be.

“Yes…yes…a pity…yes…”Caroline answered somewhat distractedly unable to take her eyes from the feminine figure of her fiancée in his bridal gown.

“The heaviest of duchess satin. Such a beautiful, feminine material. ” Madame Margot announced proudly as the couple continued to parade. “Please do not take this the wrong way Lady Congreve, but he does not look out of place in the gown. It is as if it was made for him and the brassiere gives him a wonderful cleavage.”

William visibly winced at the comment his humiliation burning inside.

“Oh don’t be upset darling. It was meant as a compliment, you do look every inch the bride.” Caroline’s mother whispered in his ear “I’m not sure the gown would have looked as good on my daughter. Now let’s go around one more time before we try another gown. And perhaps we will try a suitable veil Madame Margot.”

William’s heart sank as he felt her hand squeeze his affectionately. As they passed the other ladies he looked pleadingly at Caroline but she merely smiled and blew him a kiss and turned back to the company.

They all looked on as Caroline’s mother and Madame Margot fussed over William, fluffing out his skirts and rearranging his long satin train.

“I haven’t seen your mother so happy in a long time.” Mrs Cavandish said.

“Yes, quite remarkable.” Mrs Claybourne agreed. “He really does look the part.

“I think your mother has decided on your gown, Caroline.” Mrs Fitzmaurice added.

“Oh I think she has not only decided on the gown.” Caroline said “But who is going to wear it.”

The ladies nodded their agreement and smiled.