Not Sick Maid In Heaven
Keywords: Maid, In, Heaven, Sick, Not,
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Many years ago my Mum worked as a bridal consultant for a well-known wedding dress shop. One day to get off College so I could bunk rugby I complained of having a stomachache. The situation was ridiculous. I'm a young man of 19 who had volunteered to continue with my education and study accounts so why the authorities insisted I had to do Rugby as part of the curriculum escaped me. Anyhow my stomachache ruse worked like a dream and as the winter got worse I used the excuse more often until one day my Mum insisted I went with her to work rather than stay home alone. I assumed that I would sit in a corner reading or doing homework but my Mum had other ideas. She was no fool - I realize now that she knew my stomach ache was an elaborate excuse to avoid going to College. Her intentions were good but rather than confront me she planned to make my 'off sick' day sufficiently uncomfortable so that I wouldn't do it again.
Initially at the tiny shop I did read and study but it wasn't long before Mum and the manageress, who I called Auntie Rachel, got me helping them by sorting out magazines and tidying the shelves. Soon the shop was spotless and though reluctant to admit it my Mum seemed very pleased with my work. For rather than being humiliated at having to work in a bridal shop surrounded by beautiful dresses, I rather enjoyed myself. I lapped the whole experience up like a cat with the cream. I found all the dresses enchanting, the sensual feel of the silks, the stiffness of the netting and the crisp fresh linen smell. I spent as much time as I could without arousing suspicion flicking through all the fabulous wedding shoes and sexy lingerie. I know it wasn't natural but I couldn't help myself and I dreamily walked amongst the racks of beautiful dresses wondering what it would be like to actually wear one of the feminine creations. Yet despite all these distractions there was little for a young man to do and I soon began to feel bored.
I watched my Mum and Auntie Rachel with interest. Auntie Rachel had a wedding dress on a tailors dummy and was frantically making alterations in preparation for a wedding the forthcoming Saturday. Mum was thumbling rather clumsily with a smaller bridesmaids dress for the same event. I watched in fascination as she delicately handled the billowing skirts and layers of netting. She looked flustered, pricked her finger and glared at me angrily as if it was my fault.
'It's no good,' she said to Rachel crossly 'I can't work on this beautiful dress without a model if I'm not careful I'll ruin it.' She pointed to the tailors dummy that Rachel was working on miserably. 'When will you be finished? It's ridiculous having only one model to do this work.'
Rachael smiled with understanding, 'I'm sorry but I'll be using this for the rest of the day. You'll just have to improvise.' Mum was furious and looked at me for inspiration. It was then I saw the first wicked glint in her eye and as she looked back at the bridesmaids dress all spread out across the floor I knew what was going through her mind. 'David,' she said sharply. 'You may as well make yourself useful.' She paused and smiled. 'You will have to be bridesmaid.'
My heart leapt a beat and my pulse began to race as I suddenly realised that I was being given the golden opportunity to cross dress. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to dress as a pretty bridesmaid without ridicule or secrecy. My heart began to flutter and my mouth felt as dry as a desert. Of course my Mum had a hidden agenda, she wanted to humiliate me so I would never miss College again but unbeknown to her rather than be repulsed I loved the idea. But I had no choice as before I could say anything she was standing in front of me pulling at my jeans and T-Shirt like a woman possessed. I felt it necessary to complain but my attempts where probably meek and pathetic and I soon stood before them in only my vest and pants. This was rather humiliating – as I forget that half the shop was glazed by a massive window and being on the high street I was on full view of all the passers by and for the first time that day I noticed all the shoppers peering inside to see what all the commotion was.
'What a great idea,' Auntie Rachel said with a dry smile. 'He's perfect, rake thin, about the right size and I've not noticed before but he has a fragile beauty and a complexion that looks as if its been airbrushed.' She was right, for a nineteen year old boy I was underdeveloped and had a frame more reminiscent of a ten year old girl.
What could I do? As before I could say "poesy" Mum held the pretty bridesmaids dress out for me to step in to. I looked at it closely. It was a classic cut bridesmaid or communion dress in a sumptuous Ivory silk. It had a satin bodice with a round neck and short puffed sleeves and from what I could see it had a button back fastening. According to Rachel who seemed to be getting increasingly excited, it had a three quarter length organza skirt that was fully lined with a stiff net petticoat and was one of her most popular lines. I could understand why it was beautiful and had a stunning, contrasting dark purple organza tie sash that looked amazingly long. All in all it looked incredibly girlish and very inviting.
'No, I'm not a girl,' I say half-heartedly in a tone that was reminiscent of an English public-school girl.
Mum and Rachel laughed in unison. 'Don't be silly. Use your imagination. Can't you pretend,' Rachel said. 'In a way it's a rite of passage for every pretty girl.
'But I'm not a young girl' I sob faking misery as if an Oscar depended on it. 'I'm a young virile man.'
'Maybe so but YOU are very pretty and YOU will make a beautiful girl and a particularly sweet bridesmaid.' Mum was now laughing. 'Besides if you can't go to College you'll just have to help me.'
'No,' I squeal like an excited schoolgirl, 'this isn't right,' yet irrespective of my complaints I nervously I took a tentative step forward and pointed a toe into the dress as if stepping naked into a cold enchanted lake. Though Mum was reacting perfectly normally, it seemed faintly absurd. I knew nothing about weddings – I was far to young to even consider marriage – but I felt a strange calling. I'm not sure if it was bridesmaid specific but from that moment on I just knew dresses were for me. Just like strawberries and cream I felt we where made to be together. My cock grew stiffer as I held my breath as the ruffles of lace immediately tickle my smooth leg and a strange dizzy sensation splashes throughout my body.
'That's a good girl' Mum mocks as I step in the second leg. 'We will soon have you looking like a pretty girl should.' I grinned openly for the first time as she pulled it to my waist and paused studying my flat chest and the dresses bodice. 'Oh dear darling, we need some help up top. Here, hold this.' She made me hold the dress by the bodice around me like a curtain as she disappeared to rummage in a large draw at the back of the shop. She soon found what she was looking for and she wrapped the lightly padded bra round my chest. Even though I loved every second I felt my face redden as she clipped me in, padded the cups lightly with some tissues and pulled the dress up over my shoulders. To her delight my temperature rose and I felt me face redden as she fed an arm into each puffed sleeves. Almost immediately the lightly boned silk bodice gave me an admirable figure and Mum… changing her tune somewhat, smiled proudly.
The dress was magnificent - so soft and flattering with feminine and elegant line. It was much better than I ever imagined. Trussed up like a little girl surrounded by pretty dresses should have sent me into panic but in stark contrast I found the whole experience delightfully comforting and my little cock began to stiffen. To this day I'm not sure what happened next but this beautiful dress not only made me look like a little girl but also wrapped in its sumptuous frills and lace I even felt like an angelic little girl. It was magical. I didn't feel like a young man anymore. I was born again. I felt like a sweet angelic girl for whom butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. I didn't want to play Rugby or roughly ride my bike. I wanted to look irresistibly pretty, comb my hair, experiment with make-up, help Mum with the cooking and play with dolls. I felt as if life had taken on a new meaning. Overjoyed I shook my hips and watched in awe as the dress swung rustling around me and a warm draft whistled around my legs. I shivered and momentarily shut my eyes imagining myself skipping proudly up the isle behind a beautiful bride. Rachel put on some beautifully romantic harp music and I screwed my eyes tight as Mum took a long blonde wig from the mannequin in the window and stretched it gently over my head. The transformation was complete. I made a wish…Yes, A wish… Not content with dressing as a bridesmaid I now wanted to go to an actual wedding and be a bridesmaid. All dressed up with nowhere to go I would have given anything to be a real bridesmaid but knew that was imposable… or was it?
Mum didn't seem to notice the tiny smile on my face as she rather aggressively buttoned me securely into the dress obviously displeased that I wasn't crying with shame, humiliated and ridiculed, pleading for her to undress me. She tried a different tack as she tied the long purple sash into a huge pretty bow. 'Oh my darling what a princess. This dress has done more than strip you of your masculinity its taken years off your age aren't you glad you didn't go to ghastly College? And talking of which how's that nasty stomach ache now? Gone?'
I knew her game and smiled angelically. 'It's feeling better,' I said but I didn't really care I felt like a fairytale princess. A beautiful princess with long sunny blonde, shiny hair from an enchanted land full of flowers and sweet music. I just loved the feeling of the dress tickling my slender legs, the bra tight round my chest.
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Keywords: Maid, In, Heaven, Sick, Not,