Julie's Wedding

by Marcia Spencer

 

The baby was the cutest thing that Julie had ever seen. She envied Rachel. Rachel had found the most darling bassinet and covered it with the most lovely pink satin, trimmed with silver lace. The baby looked like Rachel in the face, but her eyes were Richard's. Would her baby look like her? Or would she look like Wilbur?

"Are you thinking about him?" Linda asked.

Julie made a face. "I'm thinking about baby Gloria," she replied.

Her friend poked her. "Don't you ever think about him?"

"No," she emphatically stated, "I just think about his money."

"Well, there's a lot to think about then," Linda giggled. She took Julie's left nipple into her mouth.

As the usual pulsations of pleasure began to spread down to her groin, Julie was thinking about Wilbur. The idea of Wilbur fathering her baby was intolerable. Wilbur – good, nice Wilbur, soooo obedient! Wilbur, the blank blackboard without an original thought in his passive head. Mommy's puppet! Wilbur was OK for paying the bills. Wilbur was nice enough as a sorta Barbie doll. You could dress him up, and he would do whatever you said.

Julie groaned. Linda was between her legs now. The sensations built and Julie's hips involuntarily thrust and thrust at the invading tongue. The thought of her baby being part Wilbur just wouldn't do.

Part Daddy would be a wonderful baby. But Mother had always warned Julie about the serious consequences of a baby with Daddy. The baby could be retarded or completely moronic. Julie always wore a diaphragm.

Oh! Oh! Too bad that Linda couldn't give her a baby! Julie hips bucked and spasms shook her all over.

Linda's face appeared. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair was straggly with sweat, but she was grinning. "Pretty good, huh, Princess?" she laughed.

"Pretty good, wench!" Then Linda gave her friend a royally good time.

 

It was time for Linda to pick up Wilbur. Not for Wilbur to pick up her. Wilbur never picked up anybody in his whole life. Athalie would have Wilbur ready for her. He would be bathed and groomed, clad in some grownup play clothes, such as a suit and tie, or possibly a slightly more casual look. Sports coat and slacks, probably. Whatever Mother suggested, of course. A whole wardrobe full of a rich boy's clothes, but they were there for Athalie's choosing, not Wilbur's. Even his very underclothes.

It was at that point that Julie had her idea. Her magnificent, perfectly marvelous idea. If it was her destiny to take over Wilbur's controls, then she would break her own path. Wilbur made a silly boy for a girl, but he might make a pretty good girl!

Sure enough! The silly doll was sartorially perfect. His passive eyes in his passive face stayed on Julie just like a loyal collie. Only this time, Julie wasn't disgusted. She had the chauffeur drop them off at her home.

"Strip, Wilbur!" He began to take off his perfect coat, his perfect shirt. Ha! He was hairless everywhere except the top of his head, and his shoulders were as slender as a girl's.

It was just perfect! Wilbur would made a super girl!

 

"What a spineless, little puppy!" Linda stage-whispered gleefully.

"But he's my puppy," Julie replied, as she tightened the corset lacing of the boy who stood before her. He was the very picture of submissive acquiescence as he stood before the two young women in Julie's bedroom. He stood a trifle unsteadily in three-inch pumps, his smooth legs and thighs clad in lovely white stockings. His fiance mercilessly laced his waist tighter and tighter, bringing a slight involuntary grimace of pain to his countenance, but he uttered no sound of protest and did his best to control his facial expression. Wilbur had learned long ago to let his mother do whatever she wanted. She would do it anyway, no matter how he felt about it. Now his bride was just taking up where his mother had always been.

Mother had never dressed him like this, but that was probably only because it had not occurred to her. And he knew very well that if Mother came in the room, she would take a keen interest in what Julie was doing to him. Wilbur didn't even think about resisting. He just wanted Mother or Julie to be happy with him. That is the way it was supposed to be. I suppose that if Wilbur had had a tail, he would have wagged it.

He could tell that Julie was pleased. He could tell by the expression in her eyes when she looked at him in the mirror. There is an art form to pleasing others without seeming too eager to please, and in this respect, Wilbur was an accomplished artist. He was so accommodating that it was easy to forget that he was quite intelligent. He noticed every detail, and he could tell that Julie was quite turned on by how girlish he looked. He looked quite ripe. His fanny was all belled out, his waist was quite nipped, and the breast forms attached to his chest were swollen and nubile. The long blond hair of his wig fell to the bottom of his waist, and everything about him, including the feminity of his countenance, shouted "Girl! Girl! Girl!" at anyone who cared to look. It really didn't matter that much to Wilbur. If Julie liked him as a girl, he would be a girl. If she had liked him as a parakeet, he would have tried his best to please her.

Linda, Julie's best friend and first bridesmaid, and Julie continued to talk. "I wish he could wear a wedding gown tomorrow," Julie said, a little wistfully, "but it's out of the question!"

Her friend nodded. She understood why. A great number of acquaintances from Daddy's business would be there who had no idea of the rather strange and different way of life that was the norm with Julie's parents and others. Nor would it do, socially, for things to be known. Since Julie was a little girl, this fact had been drilled into her. "Discretion, Princess, discretion! What people don't know won't hurt them!" At that point, Julie's Mother or Father would chuckle and add, "And it won't hurt us, either!"

Without discretion, this wedding certainly wouldn't be taking place, Linda thought. Wilbur's parents thought highly of Julie's parents. Julie's father would invest Wilbur's substantial assessments. His business acumen and influential contacts would improve the already enviable position of Wilbur's father and mother. Wilbur would never amount to anything without someone taking charge of him. So Wilbur's Mother had passed the responsibility for puppetry to her new daughter-in-law to be. She was tired of remodeling Wilbur anyway. Let someone younger have the fun of it; she had other projects in mind, anyhow.

Linda had been just a tad worried at first. She had not left south Florida to move to the west coast just to see Julie become interested in a boy! There was no need to worry. Not when Julie was interested only in turning Wilbur into the perfect wife. A loving, agreeable, acquiescent Wilma. A Wilma without any sexual relations with her wife. A toy. A hobby. No, there was certainly no reason to be concerned. "She certainly does make a lovely woman," Linda said aloud.

Julie smiled. She had plans. Linda was a wonderful lover, but she couldn't give Julie an heir. But the thought of being impregnated by Wilma made her feel ill. Julie had the romantic notion that she should only have her baby by someone that she admired and respected. Ideally, this paternalist would be maternal, as well, but she would be content if there was an awe and glorification of womanhood on the part of the sperm donor. Of course, any ejaculating strap-on could be loaded with someone's sperm, and Julie could receive the gift of conception at the hand of Linda or others of her lovers . . . but she would know. She would know that the baby came from . . . someone . . . and she cared who and what that someone was. There was Daddy, of course, but Julie had a great respect for the side effects of incest, so she always wore a diaphragm. It would be, literally, insane, not to do so. Daddy was the only male that Julie wanted to conceive with. She certainly didn't want Wilma to be the father of her baby.

"Wilma," Julie said, "you will wear this corset tonight to the dress rehearsal." Julie looked closely at Wilma. The silly, little thing nodded, and Julie could plainly see that she would actually appear at the dress rehearsal precisely as she was right then, probably even without a dress on. Certainly without considering whether she should appear at such a public occasion as Wilma. It was just like manipulating a big life-sized Barbie doll, she thought. You have to do all the work. "Wilma," she continued, "you will take off your breast forms and your pumps and your wig before you go to the rehearsal. You will put on your tuxedo and dress socks and white, ruffled dress shirt and tie." She paused for breath, reviewing feverishly what she had said to be sure that nothing had been left out. "Oh, yes! Put on your wingtip dress shoes." It was always a challenge to get the instructions just right. It was not that Wilma was dumb; she was just so darn acquiescent!

Linda giggled. She couldn't help it. That you had to approach instructing another grown-up human being like you would approach the programming of a computer always tickled her funny bone.

 

"Look! There's Cheryl!"

There occurred one of those minor miracle hugs, not just once, but twice, wherein careful females are able to avoid damaging their carefully-painted exteriors while exhibiting passion and excitement in greeting one another.

Linda and Cheryl were dressed alike beautiful pink and white lace bridesmaid creations, while Julie looked every inch a bride in the finest of feminine concoctions that Miss Elaine's genius and an enormous amount of cash could provide.

There was a knock at the door of the dressing room, and the girls all looked at one another. Cheryl opened the door, and in came a very attractive girl, dressed identically to Linda and Cheryl. She was a stranger to the three.

When Gwendolyn was injured in an awful automobile accident two weeks before the wedding, there was not a single acquaintance of Julie that could wear her bridesmaid gown. Gwen was a little tall, but very slender except in the bust. The gown was custom made for her. The fabric came from overseas. There was no time to receive materials for and make another dress, and it was unthinkable to have only two attendants for the bride, since the groom had three. Mother had told Elaine the situation, and Miss Elaine had promised that she would find a substitute.

The substitute girl was a little on the tall side, probably about five feet, eight inches, because that was Julie's height, and this girl was taller than than Linda, who was two inches shorter, and Cheryl, who was five feet, five. She was slender in build, except for her bustline and buttocks, which where large proportioned for her waist and shoulders. She was a brunette, with hair the color of dark honey, and it was evidently long to judge from the mass of it, which was swept into a beehive on her head. She was very feminine, almost enough to provoke a little jealousy in these attractive girls, but, on further reflection, she seemed a little uncertain of herself, and each of the three felt a little more mature than the newcomer.

"What's your name, honey?" said Julie with just a slight trace of patronage, but the new girl smiled so frankly and goodnaturedly at her that her reserve melted promptly, and she felt a real sense of attraction and arousal that caught her by surprise.

"Marcia," the new girl replied in a demure and soft voice. She smiled happily at the other two girls, too, and felt a sense of acceptance as Cheryl and Linda introduced themselves.

It turned out that she was Miss Elaine's niece, and was staying with her for the summer. The girls were too polite to ask how old she was. She appeared to be in her early twenties, as they were, but in reality, she was fourteen and quite delighted to appear older. Marcia felt quite grownup and was very excited to have such a part to play in a wedding. She was also biologically a male, and was actually her Aunt Elaine's nephew, rather than niece, but since she had been living as young woman for the last year and had largely been raised as a girl before that, she thought of herself as a special kind of girl, and was self-conscious only of the age difference.

Further chatting was interrupted by the rehearsal. After several hours of rehearsal, the limousine took the bridesmaid party, accompanied by the bride, to the hotel. Linda and Julie went to Linda's room, while Cheryl and Marcia went to their rooms, respectively.

Marcia was admiring her reflection in a floor-length mirror went she heard a knock at the door.

"We're all getting together in Linda's room," she said, taking Marcia by the hand.

They entered the hotel room without knocking, and Marcia stopped dead in the center of the room, her eyes riveted on the bed.

It was an attractive bed, luxurious, a king-sized canopy bed, festooned with lace and ruffles, which framed Julie and Linda in the center of the mattress. Both girls were still wearing garter belts and stockings, and Julie was still wearing her wedding veil. She was on top of Linda in the classic sixty-nine position, and both girls were oblivious to anything but each other. Both were moaning and obviously building toward a shattering climax. Marcia had never seen, had never even imagined anything like this in her life. She had not gotten the slightest hint from anyone that this was anything other than a normal wedding. The groom had seemed handsome enough, even a little on the pretty side, but there was nothing that had indicated that the bride and the first bridesmaid were an item!

Marcia continued to stare, riveted in amazement to the floor, and she became dimly conscious that Cheryl was running her hands up and down her shoulders, arms, and back - caressing, stroking, murmuring words of endearment. Then she began to undo Marcia's dress. Finally, it slithered to the floor, forming a pool of pink silk around her heels. Almost automatically, Marcia stooped to pick up the gown and hang it up. Then, almost without knowing just what was happening, she found herself on her back next to the pair on the bed, and Cheryl's hands were working with the opening to the bottom of her corset. This opening was attached by a thin row of velcro to the corset in such a way that the removal of it completely exposed Marcia's gentials and anus. As it was pulled away, Cheryl did a double take, and reaching out trembling fingers, grasped a real honest-to-goodness penis in the crotch of the new girl. Marcia could not help it; she looked apologetic as the unladylike appendage reared and thrust upward. Cheryl mounted her and absorbed the strong, stiff penis in her vagina. It went in easily enough; Cheryl was soaking wet, generously lubricated, and very, very aroused. And for the first time in her life, Marcia experienced the thrill of being buried in female flesh.

There is a thrill in taking the virginity of another human being that is like no other pleasure, and Cheryl was enjoying herself immensely as she rode Marcia, memorizing and preserving every facial expression, the epiphany of sexual consciousness, that was the result of the first uniting of herself to another's body. It was easy to see that this was Marcia's first time, and Cheryl experienced the thrill of knowing that she would always be Marcia's first. As Marcia gasped and heaved herself to up to a climax, Cheryl was shocked to feel herself pushed sideways, clear off of Marcia and off the bed. She sprawled on the plush carpet and was outraged to see that Julie had taken her place. Marcia's penis was now implanted between the bride's nether lips, and her first climax exploded in Julie's passageway to her womb. And what an explosion it was! The sheer, suppressed energy of a fourteen-year-old teenager trigged a wil geyser that flooded Julie's interior with baby-making juice. Marcia came and came. She came so hard that it seemed all of her insides would melt into semen and pour into the receptive sexual entranceway of the young bride. It just didn't seem to stop for the longest. The intense, sustained ejaculation drove Julie over the edge, and she writhed and spasmed as she was fire-engine pumped full of gooey semen. Even her dad didn't come like this. The thought of this . . . girl . . . impregnating her so copiously drove her wild again, and she experienced a climax built on the previous climax that was absolutely mind-shattering. Julie thought she would pass out. She felt that the semen being pumped into her was under such pressure that it would force itself into every inch of her body. She would die from semen overload, exploding in a tsunami of white-hot ejaculation juice. Every egg in her would be rammed with little sperm missiles, and she would have multiple twins, triplets - would give birth to enormous litters of babies that would all grow up to be sexual maniacs.

As Julie calmed down, she looked at Cheryl's face. Cheryl glared at her. "My right!" she gasped. "My day! My right!" Reluctantly, slowly, Cheryl nodded.

At this point, Julie became aware that Marcia was still hard in her, even after all that spurting. Julie eased herself off of Marcia, and Linda took her place. Cheryl began to suck on one of Linda's breasts, and after a moment, Julie began to suck on the other.

All three of the older girls were stimulated by Marcia's inexperience. There was such an air of innocent wonder about her. The stimulation was a firestorm that built on itself. The three young women were inspired to new heights of creative ecstasy. Under the sexual assault, Marcia came and came, spurting each ejaculation into the young bride, but undergoing constant stimulation by all three of the excited girls. Several climaxes led to very quick changes of coupling partners before the moment of climax, and these would have been funny to watch by a spectator. Finally the moment came when the thoroughly-used penis of young Marcia could not stay erect in spite of lips and tongues. It was Julie who retrieved the double-ended strap-ons from Linda's luggage, and this stimulation proved more than adequate for Marcia's arousal for quite a while.

Each ejaculation of the young shemale became more and more difficult to achieve. Each time Marcia thought the last time had been all she could do, but the inventive young women outdid themselves time and again. Linda and Cheryl positioned Marcia on top of Julie, then they took turn ramming the strap-ons into her over and over, driving her deeper into the bride. And while one was pistoning in and out of her from behind, the other was plunging in and out of her mouth. The stimulation was absolutely mind-blowing, and Marcia groaned and spasmed. Finally, some time long after midnight, Marcia came in an internal wrench so savage and all-consuming that she screamed uncontrollably and pumped and pumped and pumped. Even after all semen was exhausted, her over-stimulated penis pumped. It dry-pumped. It was actually painful. She passed out with her erection still stiff in the flooded vagina of Julie. Julie, sated and worn-out, fell asleep with the unconscious Marcia still in her, and Cheryl slumped forward on both of them, her strap-on still buried to the hilt in Marcia's rectum. Linda lay on the sheets, her strap-on thrust obscenely from her crotch. For quite a while, it was slick with the salvia from Marcia's mouth.

And that was how the morning found them. Marcia awoke first, her mind cataloguing all the reality of the present and the vividness of recent history. She was still erect in Julie; the strong, stiff strap-on was still embedded in her from Cheryl's crotch. As Marcia moved a little in Julie, the bride's eyes opened and she smiled at the young bridesmaid. It was not long before they were moving in rhythm. A night's rest, even an abbreviated night's rest, is sufficient to recharge the vigor of a fourteen-year-old, and soon Marcia was spurting strong, vigorous pumps of baby-making juice into Julie's welcoming depository. The young bride glowed with satisfaction. She was sure that she had conceived.

As Julie took a shower, after first carefully inserting a tampon into her to retain all of Marcia's sperm, Linda and Cheryl took turns with Marcia on the canopy bed. Finally the three of them took a shower together after Julie relinquished the bathroom.

About a couple of hours before the wedding, when the four girls were dressed and ready to leave the room, Julie decided that she wanted Marcia one last time. So bending over the bed, with her bridal gown held up by Linda and Cheryl and Marcia's bridesmaid skirt hiked up, as well, the young shemale entered the bride again from behind and left another flood of slimy, virile semen in the insatiable young woman. Then pushing her tampon back in place, the bride and her three attendants were taken in the limousine to the high society wedding.

 

The music was beautiful; everyone (with a few exceptions) was gorgeously dressed; the refreshments were expensive and tasty. The bride was radiant, almost enough to cause a few of the older, more discerning women to wonder if she was pregnant. But then they looked at Wilbur and wondered if she would ever be with child. Everyone knew that Wilbur wasn't much of a man. He was a momma's boy. But he looked even a little more effeminate than usual today. His face looked more feminine. Beneath his tuxedo jacket, and therefore hard to tell, it almost appeared that his figure was not quite as a young man's should be.

Vows were exchanged; the reception followed, and most of the guests were soon dancing away. Mr. And Mrs. Wilbur Stewart left for their honeymoon suite.

"Did you get the video in place?" Julie said to Linda as they left. She nodded.

Marcia was exhausted. Quite a multitude of young men and a sizeable crowd of older men, too, had danced with her, until she felt she could not stay on her feet another minute.

"Would you like to like down, dear?" Julie's Mother asked. Angie (her name was actually Angela, but she went by Angie all the time) led her into the house. Gradually the noise of the reception faded away, and was replaced by a comfortable stillness, shaped by exquisite good taste and a great deal of money. Angie took Marcia to one of the guest rooms, where Jim, Angie's husband, had already placed Marcia's luggage from the hotel. The room was very feminine, with a lovely canopy bed with silken sheets. And there Marcia slept the sleep of the sexually exhausted.

  

  

  

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