WWF - Wedding Without Females         by: Miss Deborah (Debi) Leigh Johnson

 

One

 

Tinkle - Tinkle - Tinkle... Tinkle - Tinkle - Tinkle

I sighed as I reached for the phone. I know. It is a stupid sounding ring, but hey, what do you want for a phone you pick up at a garage sale for $2.93? It worked. I wondered who would be calling me on a Friday evening so close to eight o'clock. As I felt the phone in my hand, it realised that I could never ever remember having had a phone call at this time of night on a Friday. I hoped that there was not some kind of emergency.

"Hallow?"

'Hey there Sweetie? How ya' doin' tonight honey?"

I knew that voice. Oh, did I know that voice. The deep rich baritone made me quiver way down deep inside of my psyche. I had suspected he would call. I had dreaded his call, but I knew that I would have been sorely disappointed if he had not called too.

His deep resonant voice caused a literal myriad of emotions and conflicts to erupt inside of me. My hands shook and I could feel the sweat beading on them. I felt excitement. I felt fear. I felt guilt. I did not know what I felt anymore.

"Uhhh... Hi Peter?"

"So? How ya doin' Sweetie?"

"Peter. You know, you shouldn't call me things like that."

"Why not Sweetie? It is how I think of you. Besides, you like it."

"I do?"

"Hey, if you didn't, you'd be all over me. You are not all over me, though I must confess I have wondered what that might just feel like," I could hear the lecherous grin in his voice. It made me shudder. "But, as I was saying, if you were a real or a normal guy, you would not have such a wimpy response when a man calls you his sweet heart, now would you?"

He had me. I hated him for perceiving things like that in me. As long as Peter Price was living in my town, I knew that I could never expect to live a normal life. He was always springing things like this on me. I hated him. But the rich and intimate tone of his voice made me melt too.

"Would you sweet heart?"

"I... I guess not Peter..." I hated myself for confessing such a weakness to this man. My face burned in my shame and my confessed vulnerability.

"Hey, I can hear your blush. I like a modest girl. I am going to be over in fifteen minutes. Bye Sweetie."

Fifteen minutes? What on earth was I going to do? I had no time to change.

 

Two

I sat there, frozen in fear. I knew that feeling fear at this point in time was stupid, because Peter knew what I was wearing anyway. He may not know the specifics, but he knew that I was dressed in women's clothing. To be more specific, he knew that I was probably wearing his wife's clothes.

My mind sort of went blank at the prospect of him seeing me like this, when there was no good reason for it.

As I sat there, semi-petrified, nearly catatonic, I thought back to four months earlier.

To start with, we lived in a very small town. Our town is so small that the normal population is only 7,000. But in the winter months, the student population from the three colleges in town nearly doubles the population. It is a rural community, so the money that comes in from the schools is desperately needed as a mainstay to our local economy.

Aside from the schools and farming, there is little else that can generate incomes for the locals. Because of this reality, when money is needed for anything, it requires brains storming.

I had been at just such a meeting four months earlier. It had been a men's meeting at our local church. We were trying to raise enough money to build a paved parking basketball one on one court behind the church building. We wanted the kids to have a place to play, because the colleges had decided to start imposing a user fee to the high school to use their facilities. It did not matter that the schools paid no taxes.

Rather than to give in to it, our men's group had decided that for the kids of the families who belonged to our church, that we would build a basketball court. Labour was no problem. All the men would chip in. It was coming up with the money for the materials that was the problem.

We'd been kicking around ideas for a couple of hours, only to discover serious flaws in each one of the plans. Most of the plans required money to kick start them, and none of us had a lot of money. In fact, I was one of the probably the only four or five men in the group of twenty-five or so men, who were financially solvent.

I was still single, and I had built a good financial planning practise, selling insurance and some investment plans. I had about 800 of the local families as clients. I had not wife to support and no kids to drain off my money. I would have easily just donated the money to build the damn court, a court that I would never use any ways. But I had learned the hard way that people just do not like people who just give them money.

The local people were a proud lot who took pride in the fact that regardless of the lack of resources in our community, no one in the town drew welfare. No one needed hand outs to get by on, unless some disaster occurred, but then that was a different situation.

I had donated a large chunk of money one time to a capital project, and I was ostracised for it. It took me a long time to win the favour of the folks back again. It seemed that they took offence at my giving the money. They took it as an indication that I must think that they did not have what it took to get the project done. In fact, even the minister came to me to explain that when a small community had a big project to undertake, that everyone wanted to be involved and to contribute something. He told me that the gift I had given had deprived a lot of people from the opportunity of participating in the completion of the project.

I decided that I should not do that anymore. If I was going to contribute anything, it would be anything except money. I did not want my clients to start withdrawing from me because they thought that I thought that I was too good for them, because I had some money when most of them were just eking out a living.

To make a longer story shorter, what happened was this.

We decided to sponsor a mock wedding. It would be a wedding without females. We would charge a fee for anyone who wanted to come to it. We figured that if we got $2.00 from each person, and we could attract 500 people, that after the incidental costs, we might be able to clear about $700.00. That would be enough for the materials that we needed.

The next thing was to plan out what was going to take place.

We decided that it would be at the high school gym. We would do it up just like a real wedding. We would advertise it in such a way that everyone would be curious about it, and perhaps want to come.

We would have a buffet table, for a real wedding reception. We would also hire a local band for a dance afterwards, after all, what kind of a wedding would it be if there was no dance after it to celebrate the happy occasion?

Everyone got excited about the idea. There was a lot of joking around too.

Then we had to decide who was going to be the main characters. There was going to be a bride, a groom, three brides maids, three grooms men, the pastor, the musician and all. It was, after all the second thoughts, going to be a big deal. Some one had to do the cake. Some one had to organise decorating the hall, and cleaning up after it was all over. There was a lot of discussion.

Then came the crucial questions of who would be the bride and who would be the bride groom. It was decided that the brides maids could, in keeping with the occasion be kind of mannish looking, but that the bride had to be pretty. There was also the question of who would be the groom, as what man would want to be publicly associated with agreeing to marry another man?

When it was all said and done, this is what it came down to. I was by far the smallest man in the group, so I would be the bride. Because of the hullabaloo the last time, I figured that this might be a good way to get back into the good graces of the people in the church. Even if it was a big sacrifice, it was all for a good cause, so I was cajoled into agreeing to be the bride.

The bride groom was Peter. His wife had died three years earlier, so everyone decided that it was about time that he get himself another wife anyway. No one else in the group were single, so that kind of sealed our fates, so to speak.

Then we had to figure out how I was going to get a wedding gown without a lot of money being spent.

Peter had the solution. He informed the group that he still had all of his wife's clothes packed in storage in his attic, and he was pretty sure that her wedding gown was still in it. He told the group that I was about the same size as his wife, so he would just drop it off at my house. I could get a couple of the women in the church to help me out with it if it needed any adjustments.

 

Three

Later that week, Peter did drop off the wedding gown, with about eight boxes of other stuff too.

I looked at him askance, and wondered what he brought all that stuff for. He just grinned good naturedly and told me that he figured that if I was going to be a convincing bride, in order to not make a fool of either him or me, that I would need to learn how to wear women's clothes and how to behave in them. He said that he did not really have a use for them anyway, so he thought that if I had it all, that I could use it to practise.

I quickly assured him that I had no intention of wearing his wife's clothes, excepting for the wedding. But he told me that I had better learn how to wear it all, and to do it right, otherwise I would be letting down the entire church, if I could not be a convincing bride.

The long and short of it was that I spent the next three days unpacking and storing away all the clothes in my empty spare room. I made the decision to turn that room into a boudoir, so I bought a second hand vanity and matching chests of drawers and a full length mirror, and soon I had a dressing room that any real woman would have been happy to have had, I was pretty sure.

A week later, I was thinking about all of those clothes in the house, and what they had felt like when I was unpacking them and stowing them in the closets and drawers. My curiosity got the better of me. I decided to go and experiment a little bit.

I went to my bed room, stripped off, then went to the bath room and showered, and used a depilatory. I had to admit that the soft hairless skin was quite erotic, for sure.

When I walked into the boudoir, I had the strange feeling like I was walking into the private bed room of a real live woman. It was kind of eerie. I went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of panties, a bra, a garter belt and a slip. They were all in a rich satin material and a peach colour. I also selected a pair of nylons. Ten minutes later, I was standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself for the very first time, dressed in pretty lingerie.

With no make up on, I looked like a woman.

My longish hair fell in big waves to my shoulders. I was hairless. The soft silkiness of the material caressed my softened skin in a most delightful fashion I could hardly resist my urges to caress myself with the palms of my hands. Geeze, it was no wonder that women loved wearing stuff like this, if they were allowed to. I was half willing to be that if other men tried on lingerie, that they would want to wear it too, it was so damned erotic feeling. I especially loved the nylons. I loved the delicate tautness that I could feel all over my legs. I also loved how the slip caressed my thighs through them.

I saw a bulge growing in the front of my slip, and I was amazed that wearing Darlene's clothes could be so exciting to me in a sexual way. I was acutely aware that the panties that I was wearing had also caressed her most intimate parts as well. I blushed as I realised that in all probability, Peter's hands had caressed her flesh through the panties too.

I had never thought of myself as ever being inclined that way, you know, 'light in the loafers' as they say? But the idea of Peter's hands caressing Darlene through the panties that I was wearing made me feel very feminine, and my little cock throbbed with eroticism. I had never been so turned on in my life.

I tore myself from the mirror. I went over to the vanity and sat down. I had never used makeup before, but I had decided that since I had all of this stuff, that I should get onto the internet and try to learn how to use it. So, I had read lots, and I was pretty sure that I knew what to do with it all.

An hour and three complete attempts later, I looked like a pretty woman. The makeup had changed me just enough that I was pretty sure that no one could recognise me, if they saw me like this.

Then came the moment of truth for me. For the first time in my life, I was going to wear a dress and high heels.

I knew exactly what dress I wanted to wear for the first one too. It was a pale blue silk dress with big blowsy sleeves that were gathered in a ruffled cuff at the wrists. It had a deep V-neck collar with a wide white lace lapel on it. There was a full skirt that I knew was going to swirl around me thighs, and drape around me ever so femininely whenever I moved. And it had a wide tight belt. There was also a pair of shoes, a wide brimmed hat and a purse to match it.

I dressed quickly.

I went to the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I knew what I would look like if I had been born female. I was beautiful. I also loved the way it made me feel. I felt utterly feminine, and I felt pretty. I had never had those emotions before, and they were so delightful to me.

I spent the next three hours walking around the house, just enjoying how the unfamiliar garments and materials felt on my own skin. I was falling in love with being a woman, and I knew it. I got brave enough to go out on my back porch, so that I could feel what a woman feels when the night breezes invade her privacy. I loved it. I went back into the house and got myself a glass of white wine, then returned to the balcony.

It was nearly midnight when I first started to think about getting ready for bed, and about wearing a night gown to bed. I felt so sissy, and it was kind of a sweet emotion to me. I had known and admired Darlene most of my life, and the idea that her clothes would fit me so well was kind of intoxicating to me. I loved it.

I swished back into the house, and dared to walk out onto my front porch. I knew that most of my neighbours would be asleep, but I just wanted to know what it would feel like to be on the front porch, wearing such a pretty dress.

To my chagrin, as I stepped out of the door and onto the porch, Peter came sauntering up my side walk. I was stunned. I was horrified, and I was ever so humiliated.

Peter? How did he feel? All he did was grin at me in a kind of a bashful way that made me think he was actually kind of cute and boyish, and he stepped up onto the porch. He looked at me slowly, from head to foot and back up again.

"I knew it. I just knew it. You are every bit as pretty in that thing as Darlene was. And, judging from the way that you are moving around in that dress, you are every bit as feminine and graceful as she was too. You know Sweet heart, I think you should have been born a girl. You sure look far better as a girl than you ever did as a guy."

Suffice to say that over the next hour, I managed to lose most of the embarrassment that I had felt when I realised that Peter was seeing me, wearing his wife's clothes. Peter made me feel actually kind of pretty and attractive to him. We talked for over an hour, and he assured me that he loved the way that I looked and acted, and he even made me admit that I felt very womanly, and that I liked how it felt.

He told me that I would need to get some help getting used to the idea of being in public, looking like a woman. So, in order to help me, that for the next few Saturdays, that he was going to come and get me and take me to the city to spend the day, as a kind of a date. Then he smiled as he told me that if I was going to be his wife after all, that I had to get to know him, and he had to get to know me, and that was usually done through dating.

I had to admit, he really did help me to be relaxed. I had always liked Peter, but now I was really liking him. I also found that I was beginning to see some of the qualities in him that had made Darlene want to marry him. That made me blush, but I could not deny that it was happening to me.

So for the next few weeks, he'd come to my house early in the morning, and pick me up. He usually liked what I was wearing and only once in a while he would make suggestions, recalling things the way his wife used to wear them. It was not too long after that, that when we would drive along the highway that he would comment that if I was really going to act like a bride, that I had to get used to being with him as a man.

I was curious as to what he meant. He showed me by reaching over and taking my hand in his, and just holding it like that. He told me that I had to get used to being treated the way an attractive lady gets treated. So, most of the time after that, when we were together, he would be holding my hand.

Two weeks before the WWF, he kissed me for the first time.

I though I would vomit if a man every tried to kiss me. When Peter kissed me, all it made me feel was feminine. In fact, he knew that I did not want him to stop kissing me when he did stop. I knew that he knew, because of that secret little grin that curled the corners of his lips.

 

Four

The big day came, and there was a flurry of activity at my house. Three of the girls I had gone to school with came over to help me get into my dress, and to get the bride's maids ready. Compared to them, I was Miss America. They all looked like men in dresses. Their wives had gotten together to make their dresses and they were nothing fancy. But we consumed a lot of wine and beer, and we all laughed till our sides hurt.

Then it was on to the high school. I felt as nervous as a real bride. My gown was so lovely. It was all white satin and it rustled loudly. All of my lingerie was pure white silk, excepting the blue lace garter. I secretly tingled inside because I knew that this was exactly what Darlene had worn when she had taken Peter as her husband. I was glad that the gown splayed out from my hips, because I had a raging hard on in my panties, and I wanted to keep that secret from anyone else. I did not want my friends to ever guess how perverted I had become over the last few weeks. Geeze, I had not ever worn male underwear for weeks now, having come to prefer the softness of lingerie.

Peter knew, but he was the only one.

I said my 'I do,' and Peter said his.

The minister pronounced us as husband and wife, and he presented us to the town folks as Mr. and Mrs. Peter Price.

We went down the aisle, cascaded with cheers and rice as he lead me out to the reception hall.

The band roared into life and there were dances. I had never danced with a man before. I spent the afternoon dancing with every man from the men's group, all in good natured fun. I even got to dance with some of the women.

By the time the day was over, I was totally exhausted. Peter drove me home, and he helped me get out of the bridal gown. I sat around in a floor length night gown and peignoir that he had bought me for the occasion, and we had some white wine.

He floored me when he told me that I had made a beautiful bride, and that pretty soon, he was going to come back some night when I least expected it, and he was going to show me what being a real bride was all about. I thought that he was just joking, so I laughed and told him that I had made the vow to love honour and obey, so he could come back any time that he wanted to.

Peter just grinned, kissed me lightly on the lips and left.

I had to admit that I have worn night gowns every night since then. I had also worn lingerie and nylons under my business clothes every day since then too.

Now, it was coming home to roost. Now it was time to pay the piper.

I shuddered in fear, in anticipation, and pent up excitement. I hated myself for it, but my little cockette had sprung to attention the moment that I had heard his voice on the phone.

All too late I was drawn out of my reverie. Peter just walked in the door. He did not even bother to knock, he just walked in.

I sat there, feeling so weak, so vulnerable and ever so feminine. I looked up at him. He was so big, and so strong, and so handsome. He had not shaved and I could see the beard shadow. My cockette twitched in my panties. I wanted him, and I wanted him the way a woman wants a man. I was so ashamed of how much I wanted this man to take me in his arms and to kiss me, and to feel me all over.

I could not stop it. My eyes lowered and I saw the bulge in his pants.

I looked up at him again, and I saw his lust for me in his eyes. It made me want him even more.

With a start, I realised what being this kind of a woman with this kind of a man meant.

He would want me to suck his cock.

I blushed. I wanted to. I knew it now. I wanted to be his sweet little fairy sissy girl, and please him the way a woman pleases the man she loves. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have him put his cock inside of my mouth, and let me suck him to pleasure.

Worse, I knew now that I carved the experience of being that feminine with a real man.

Peter came over and stood in front of me.

"Debi, it is time for you to become a woman."

He did not say anything else. I watched, mesmerised, as he reached for the front of his pants. In the quietness, the sound of his zipper lowering was deafening. Then he unfastened his belt. I watched as he undid the catch, and his pants fell to the floor. The front of his white jockey shorts was bulging out in the most obscene fashion, and it excited me, because I knew that it was for the woman man. Peter was not gay. He did not like guys. He liked pretty women, and he was liking me right now, because I was his pretty woman.

I watched as he pushed his underwear down. They slowly slid down his massive hairy thighs, down over his knobby knees, and they fell down to lay on top of the inside of his pants.

I knew what he wanted. I knew that I wanted it to. I could feel every feminine stitch that I was wearing, and I knew that I was not a man anymore, nor did I ever want to be one again.

I wanted to know what women felt.

"On your knees Debi. It is time to take care of your loving husband Sweet heart."

I felt as though some kind of outside force had taken over me. But also, I knew that I did not want to resist. I wanted to know what Darlene had felt when she had made love to him when he was her husband. He was mine now, in a sense.

I slowly slid from the chair and I found myself kneeling on the floor, looking up at him. His cock was not massive, but it was large. I reached up and took it in the finger tips of my right hand, and I gently began to admire it with my hand. It was as hard as a lead pipe, and yet the satiny smooth skin seemed to move over it. It was very hot.

"Oh, you do that just like you love doing it. You make me feel like you want to do this more than anything else in the world. Is that true, Debi?"

What could I possibly say? My actions had betrayed my inner desires. I might as well admit it.

"Yes Peter. I want to do this more than anything else in the world. You, you make me want to do it for you."

"That's my girl. Now honey, I want you to take me into your mouth, and I want you to suck on me like my cock was the sweetest piece of candy that you have ever had in your sweet lips."

I did not need a second invitation. I knew that I craved this debasement. I wanted to be his cock sucker more than anything that I had ever wanted before. I knew that one I let him into my mouth, that I could never again look in the mirror, and not know that I was looking at a cock sucker.

But I wanted to please him like a loving wife is allowed and expected to please her husband. I wanted him to like what I would do for him.

I leaned forward, and I pursed my pinked lips, and I felt the dry hardness of his cock head on my lips. I looked up at him.

"You look so fuckin' pretty and so fuckin' hot when you do that Debi. If you are not careful, you will make me cum all over your face Sweet heart."

I knew then, at that moment, that I had the ability to love this man with all the emotional freedom that a woman loves a man with, and I wanted him to know that I loved and admired him. I admired him for being a man, some thing that I could never be. I wanted him to know that I recognised his superiority over me in that way, but I also wanted him to know that I liked it that way too.

So I opened my mouth and I received his cock inside of my body. When I felt him bulging out my cheeks, I lovingly began to lick at the underside of his cock. I wanted him to know that I loved him like a woman.

"Ohhh... You are a natural cock sucker. I can not believe how good you are. You are going to make me cum in a second baby."

Yes, I wanted to feel him and taste him erupting into me, the way he had only erupted into a woman before.

Seconds later, he grabbed my head, and he bucked and rove himself into me. I was afraid that I was going to die because I could not breathe, as he was fucking me so fiercely. But I also knew that if I did die at that moment, that I would die as a very happy woman. I would have died, knowing that I had gotten to experience the ultimate joy for a woman, that was to make love and bring sexual pleasure to the man she loved.

I did not die though. But I did have a mouthful of this man's ejaculate, so much so that it was dribbling down my chin. I kept him inside of my mouth, gently sucking on him, because I was aware of how sensitive a man is after he ejaculates, and I tried to draw out every drop of his maleness for me to receive.

Peter slept in my bed that night.

End of the beginning?

Write me if you like: debijo@cybergal.com

 

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