Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
Go on, it’ll be a laugh,” urged Richie, "the look on his face will be priceless".
"He’ll bloody kill me.” The doubter was Stephen Dodds, the potential killer, his friend’s elder brother.
“I reckon with a bit of help, you could pull it off,” Marnie Nesbitt was looking at Steve as if she was appraising his chances.
“It’s bloody insane.” Steve shook his head, "Both of you are crazy."
“There’s a dress in Oxfam, that would do the job, looks about your size, Steve.”
“I am not wearing a dress, and that’s that.”
“What if I was to offer you a hundred quid?” Richie upped the ante.
“That wouldn’t pay for my funeral would it, and I reckon that would happen the next day–better see if the same vicar’s available.”
“Steve, once he got over the shock, he’d think was hilarious, especially with my video.”
“Isn’t Sam going to be rather pissed about it?”
“Sam? She’s a bigger practical joker than Dave,” Marnie offered her opinion, "and it’s not as if it’s going to upset the wedding plans anyway."
“I think it’s over the top, it’s neither the place nor the time–so my answer is no.”
They were talking at Marnie’s house, or her parent’s place, they were all sixth form students at St Thomas High School, the local comprehensive. Richie Wilkins was the younger brother of Dave Wilkins who was getting married to Samantha Perkins a month from the conspirator’s meeting. Richie and Marnie were going steady, or as steady as teenagers can go, and Steve Dodds, was Richie’s best friend.
Steve was small and skinny, unlike his parents who were both off the scale on BMI and who could probably win a tug of war against the local rugby team by themselves. They weren’t exactly overweight, more sort of short for their width. In fact they were probably taller lying down. That Steve was so slim made people query his parentage.
The reason Richie wanted to get back at his brother was a history of being pranked, bullied and outmanoeuvred by Dave, the most recent, being enrolled in a gay dating agency and having a series of emails and phone calls from strange young men who thought he was seeking a male partner. Dave thought that was hilarious.
The three teens all came from fairly prosperous families, The Wilkins owned a builder’s merchants which had not long opened a fourth depot in a nearby town. Mr Wilkins was almost certainly a millionaire twice over. Marnie’s dad was a surgeon and her mum was a GP. Since she’d gone to school at age five, her mother had gone back to work full time. She had everything she wanted except her parent’s time.
Steve’s father owned the local supermarket. The nearest Tesco and Sainsbury’s was in the next town and the locals had voted against the big chains being given planning permission. They liked the personal touch and Mr and Mrs Dodds were very good on the people skills.
The reprisal prank on Dave was for Steve to dress up as a bride and walk down the aisle at Dave’s wedding before Sam got there, and for him to reveal himself when Dave and his best man, Pete Simms, lined up at the altar. It was a stupid idea, but then again heavier than air machines were once considered such by those without the vision to see.
Steve was a very good natured lad, and at sixteen stood five foot seven and as meaty as a bamboo pole. His chest was only thirty two and he weighed less than nine stone. He ate like a horse but never put weight on. Being blond haired, and fair skinned, he still hadn’t started shaving and his Adam’s apple was invisible if he had one. He was a fine featured youth as well, so the idea that he couldn’t look like a woman was a mistake.
Marnie had cajoled him until he at least let her dress him in women’s clothes. Steve was putty in any pretty girl’s hands, and Marnie was a real looker. This happened a few days after the initial meeting of the conspirators and Richie was coming along later to meet his new ‘girlfriend’.
One of the things that Marnie’s dad did was mastectomies, removing the cancerous breasts of unfortunate females. Usually this meant immediate reconstruction using fat from under the arm and insertion of an implant which contained saline. However, not all women wanted to undergo such surgery and they were given various prostheses to hide the absent breast. Marnie had managed to ‘borrow’ two of the more expensive silicone variety plus the surgical adhesive to stick them on Steve’s chest.
When he agreed to the makeover, he assumed it only meant having some makeup shoved on his face and he’d made his mind up that even if he looked really hot as a girl, he was going to disagree. So this for him was a way of winding the whole silly idea down.
What he didn’t realise was that Marnie was going to spend a good two hours transforming not only his face but also his body into a hot girl. To achieve this, she’d borrowed a corselet from her mother, who never wore it anyway; the breast forms and glue and a pair of padded briefs she’d got from the internet.
Despite his protests, Marnie practically stripped the few body hairs and all his arm and leg hairs, from Steve’s body. She waxed his armpits after his arms and legs, and then before he could appreciate what was happening, she glued the breast forms and stuck them to his chest. He was suitably horrified but sort of stuck with it until she produced the solvent.
He’d grown in a certain part when she began to do his bikini line, but the first rip of the waxed cloth caused his pride and joy to almost hide up inside him, it was so scared of her. A pair of tight panties and, ‘little Steve’ was but a memory.
With the padded briefs, which turned out to be more of a panty-girdle, Steve suddenly had hips and a bum, when the corselet was placed on him, his already small waist was even smaller. He was showing a female silhouette much to his concern.
She pulled a pair of black tights up his legs and stuck a pair of her mother’s court shoes on his feet. “I can’t walk in these,” he protested. She ignored him and made him walk about the house.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” she said and slipped one of her mother’s dresses over him, a knitted boucle one which clung to his new outline and actually looked very good.
Then she did his makeup, which was a case of less being more. She took her time and Steve was now resigned to waiting to see how he turned out, although his protest was now far from his shocked mind.
He felt her painting his eyes and his lips and quite enjoyed the sensation of being pampered by a very pretty girl. She shaded his cheekbones with blusher to enhance them, his eyes were neatly lined and his naturally long lashes made even longer with careful applications of mascara.
The crowning glory, was the blonde wig. It was slightly darker than Steve’s normal hair and she placed a cap over his own hair and then taped the wig on top of it, it was in the form of a long bob cut and it framed his face beautifully. It was the same style that Sam wore her hair, and practically the same colour.
When she shaped and painted his finger nails, Steve protested, but her stern gaze cut it short, especially when she threatened to send him home like he was. Finally, she clipped on some earrings and gave him a necklace, her spare watch and a bracelet for his right arm. Her spare ring also fitted his ring finger, mind you, whether he’d get it off again was another matter.
When she showed him his new image, Steve was blown away. He was closer to fainting than protesting. He couldn’t believe that the good looking girl in the mirror was him. While he was still reeling from this shock, she bundled a short coat on him and shoved a handbag in his hand and dragged him out of the front door.
“Where are we going?” he asked his voice squeaky with emotion.
“You need some practice walking in heels, c’mon.” She wrapped her arm in his and they walked off down the street.
Steve was astonished that no one said anything other than hello to the two girls and he began to relax. The shoes weren’t very comfortable but neither were they as bad as he thought they’d be. He adjusted his posture and taking smaller steps, managed the two inch heels quite well, a fact that Marnie noticed and commented on.
“Can’t we just go back and get this lot off, now? Seeing as I appear to be able to walk in the shoes.”
“No, practice makes perfect, besides you’re far too stiff–just relax–treat it as a bit of fun.”
“You’re not the one who could get arrested.”
“Rubbish, no one would ever doubt you weren’t a woman unless you made them, so just relax and enjoy it, think of all the people you’re fooling.”
He nearly had kittens when they walked down the main street of the town, and when they turned into Oxfam, he knew what Marnie was up to. “I’m not doing it, so you’re wasting your time,” he protested almost stamping his high heeled foot to emphasis the point.
Then fifteen minutes later: “Oh sweetheart, that dress is just made for you,” the shop assistant at the charity shop was in raptures over the fit of the second hand wedding dress when Marnie insisted he model it for her.
The shoes didn’t fit, but they had another pair of white satin pumps, though with a three and half inch heel, that fitted and the dress hung very well with them, plus, for another fiver, they got the veil as well.
“He’s going to love you in that outfit,” purred the shop assistant.
“Who is?” squeaked Steve.
“Your fiancé, of course.”
“Of course,” Steve frowned at Marnie who smirked back.
“You must be mad,” argued Steve as he berated Marnie for spending forty pounds on the wedding outfit. “I’m not doing it, and that’s that.”
“It’s my money, I can do what I like with it,” she riposted and dragged him into a jewellers where five minutes later he left with pierced ears.
“You’ve gone too far now,” he did stamp his foot this time.
“Okay, suit yourself.” Marnie turned and walked away back towards her house.
“What? Wait for me,” he squealed and had to walk quickly to catch her up.
“I thought you’d gone, Stephanie,” she feigned surprise.
“I need my clothes back, don’t I?”
“Do you? Oh well you’d better behave then.”
When the car pulled alongside them and he recognised Richie, Steve’s feet were happy but the rest of him wasn’t. “Get in, get in,” he urged and Marnie and Steve squeezed in to the back seat while the bridal gear was carefully laid in the boot.
“Oh you two don’t know each other, do you? Mart, this is Stephanie, Marnie’s friend. See I told you I fix you up with a date, didn’t I?”
Steve’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as Richie roared with laughter, “It’s okay, Mart is in on the prank, in fact he’s gonna give you away. He knows Dave through the rugby club and owes him one.”
The car drove past Marnie’s house. “Where are we going?” asked a terrified Steve.
“Just for a quick meal, I knew you could pull it off, Steph.”
“If ever I get my hands on yours, I’ll make sure I pull it off,” Steve muttered back, at which Marnie nearly wet herself laughing and Richie replied, ‘Promises, promises.’
They ate at a local carvery which did meals all day. Steve’s appetite was less than usual he was so nervous, especially when he needed a wee. Marnie took him to the ladies and afterwards touched up his makeup.
At her house later, Steve, still in the dress admitted it had been fun and that perhaps he could do the prank on Dave.
So it was that a month later, Steve in the bridal gown, wearing the breast forms and padded panty, made up, bewigged and smelling of expensive perfume, stood at the entrance to the church. Marnie was acting as unofficial bridesmaid. The veil was hiding his face and as they entered the church everyone scrambled muttering, ‘she’s early.’
As he clicked his way down the aisle, the organ struck up the Bridal March and the butterflies in his stomach were under control as was his desire to laugh when Dave saw he'd got the wrong bride. Marnie walked behind looking after the train and then half way down the aisle, she whispered in his ear, “Oh shit, Sam’s car has been involved in an accident.” The last thing Steve remembered hearing before the vicar began his address were Marnie’s footsteps rapidly retreating away from him...
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