Candice

"We would be gentle, Harold. We love you too much to hurt you. Even Lisa would be gentle, wouldn't you?"

"Yes I would. Which is more than I would do for any other man."

Lisa rested her hand on Harold's head.

"But we are supposed to be fitting Candice's dress. Ready?"

I gave Harold another peck on the cheek and followed Lisa to the bedroom. He went back to the computer.

In the bedroom Lisa had left one of her famous and patented adjustable hoop petticoat slips on the bed. This one was made for me and had wide shoulder straps that would be hidden under the dress. It had a back zip to the bodice.

"Candice," said Lisa "change into your bridal underwear while I get the dress."

I stripped completely, pulled on the long corsellette, and then stopped. I wouldn't need panties or stockings for the fitting. Or would I? I needed the right height shoes but I didn't want to snag my stockings on any pins Lisa might have in the partly assembled dress. I left the stockings in my bag.

Perhaps I could try on the slip while I waited for Lisa. I didn't know where to put my panties so I just held them in my mouth while fed my arms through the straps and lifted the slip over my head. It seemed to be a tighter fit than I expected. I had left the back zip open so I thought it would slide on easily. It stuck on my shoulders.

I lifted it again and this time I kept my arms down. I could sort them out when the skirt of the petticoat was settled round my waist. The slip stuck again so I grasped the hem and pulled down. All the hoops passed my shoulders but the waistband jammed on my forehead. Thinking that the new elastic must be stiff I irritatedly pulled harder. The waistband stuck on my ears and nose. I thought nothing of it. I pulled again with no effect. It wouldn't move downwards.

Only then did I realise that I was in trouble. The tight waistband was stuck firmly around my head. Below it the slip clamped my panties in my mouth. The hoops had slid down me to below my crotch but they held my arms tightly against my body. I had trapped myself. My legs were free but from my thighs upwards I was cocooned in a parcel that I couldn't undo. I couldn't breathe through my pantie-stuffed mouth and my nose was sucking the slip's material in every time I breathed.

I started to panic. The material over my nose was getting damp. It might cut off my breathing. I edged to the bed and rolled on to it. I thrashed my legs trying to get a purchase to slide the slip upwards but all I was doing was twisting it tighter around me. I was sweating as I tried to release myself and my sweat was making the slip stick even closer to me. I was just beginning to pass out from lack of air when Lisa came back.

She rushed across to me and untied the waistband. I hadn't realised that it was a drawstring. Lisa yanked the slip down from my face and pulled my sodden panties out of my mouth. I stayed on the bed gasping and crying. Lisa cradled me against her, rocking me gently.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied when I had enough breath to speak. "I just wanted to try the petticoat on but..."

"It is adjustable," Lisa said "and had not been let out. The hoops were on their smallest setting and the waistband was tied. You shouldn't have been able to get it on."

"It was an effort," I said in a feeble attempt at a joke.

"I'll say it was. An effort that nearly killed you. It has happened before. You have to be careful." Lisa sounded slightly accusing "I should have told you but I thought you had more sense."

"I thought I did too, until I was completely helpless."

Christmas was the last time that George came back before the end of his course. I didn't think that I could keep the improvement from him. I asked Lisa for advice. So she met him at the station, brought him to the flat, blindfolded him in the hall, and led him through to the bedroom. He spent the whole of the daytimes that Christmas blindfolded and often tied to the bed. I fed him, blanket-bathed him, pottied him and drove him wild with my sexual antics. I didn't keep him tied up ALL the time, but I made sure he was blindfolded except after dark when a few candles provided dim lighting. He did not really see me at all but I made sure that he felt every part of me. On the last evening Lisa collected him again, removed his blindfold and took him back to the station. He told Lisa that he had never had such a wonderful time.

When George came back to Silverbridge the week before the wedding he was to stay with Sheila's John. I met George at the station in full camouflage. My hair was dulled, my face was blotchy and I wore my glasses. Despite that he treated me like a princess.

I saw him a few times in the days before the wedding. Each time took Sandra and Frances about an hour to prepare me for him.

On Valentine's Day, our wedding morning, our flat was invaded by Lisa, Sandra and Frances. I had to leave with my father at 11am. I had barely a minute to spare but I took that minute to look in the full-length mirror.

"Don't you dare cry!" protested Frances. "It would take a long time to repair the damage. Just enjoy it."

I did. The bride that looked out of the mirror at me was unrecognisable from the Candice who had sought her friends' help those months ago. My skin glowed with health. My breasts, which had been my most reasonable feature, were now showing a glorious creamy cleavage helped by Lisa's dress that emphasised and framed it. My hair was still short but subtly layered and it shone! My dull blonde was now a gleaming crowning glory barely dimmed by my veil.

The dress was sleeveless. Three months ago I would not have dared to bare my arms. Now the skin on my arms and hands was perfect and my hands had sound but short nails hidden under false ones. We had decided that letting them grow long themselves was not practical for a nurse but the falsies matched perfectly and I knew how to put them on and take them off. I had learned a lot about skin and hair care. I could even do my own make-up.

I turned to my father.

"Well, Daddy? What do you think of your little Candice now?" I asked.

Then I noticed that he was crying. My father never cried. I lifted my veil and kissed his tears away.

"I never thought that you could look so beautiful, Candice."

"Neither did I, Daddy. My friends have turned the ugly duckling into a swan, and it is not just for the day. I will look this good for a long time thanks to them."

I slid my hand through his arm.

"Shall we go?"

We went out to the gleaming vintage open Rolls-Royce. The sun was shining as I stepped out of the front door. I was stunned by cheering from the neighbours. I lifted my veil and smiled at them. My friends gathered up my train and helped me into the car.

They climbed into another Rolls-Royce and we set off on the short journey to the church. As we approached I saw Harold scurry inside. As we drew up, an honour guard of Boy Scouts saluted and then lined the pathway to the church door with crossed staves.

For a moment I was worried that I might have to duck because some of them were very small Scouts but I need not have worried. They were standing on the wall and the lowest stave was well above my head. Harold at work!

As I entered the church a Brass Band started "Here Comes The Bride". I winced because it is so hackneyed but after about three bars and a wink from the Bandmaster they changed to the processional hymn tune I had asked to be played on the organ. As I turned to face the main aisle and altar the organ joined in with the choir. The quiet music I had selected now sounded like a triumphal march filling the whole church. I stopped, wondering what was different from my expectation.

That was it. The church was full. There were even people standing at the back and down both sides. The Scouts were on their way up to the gallery. My father squeezed my hand.

"Ready, Candice?" he asked.

"Yes. Let's go."

I shall always remember that walk towards the altar. I seem to replay it in slow motion. My father paced it to the second. Everyone I knew seemed to be there, all smiling at me, but astonished as well. I arrived beside an incredulous George as the last note ended.

"Candice?" he whispered.

"Yes, George, it's me."

"But..."

The vicar started the service. I went through it in a happy state of bliss. George and I repeated our vows so confidently that the whole church knew we meant what we said.

When we went through to the vestry to sign the register George said, "I'll kill Harold."

"Why?" I asked.

"He warned me that you would not look as you had done. He didn't tell me that you were this beautiful."

I smiled at George.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Our friends have helped me to transform myself."

"I'll say they have. I'm not sure I deserve such a beautiful woman."

"I'm still Candice. Now I'm your WIFE, and you are my husband."

George didn't reply. He went to Harold and shook his hand.

"Thank you, Harold, for everything."

"It's not just me you should thank, but Lisa, Frances and Sandra at least."

"I will, Harold. Just let me get at them."

"George!"

George stopped. "What is it, Harold?"

"Before you thank the bridesmaids..."

"Yes?"

"I think you should thank your bride, and kiss her."

"You are right as usual, Harold."

George raised my veil and kissed me. Harold had to break us apart long enough to sign the register.

Sandra tutted over the damage to my make-up and performed hasty repairs.

Then we went back into the church and processed down the aisle to cheering that drowned the best efforts of the organ and band.

Outside the church we posed for photographs before leaving for the short distance to the reception at the football clubhouse.

Even there Harold's organisation showed. George and I had a room to change in after the reception. He suggested that we went there while the guests arrived. He told us that he would be sending Lisa and Sandra to collect us in exactly eight minutes.

We spent those eight minutes making up for some of the kissing George had missed over his three months away.

When Lisa and Sandra arrived they grabbed us. Lisa removed the evidence from George while Sandra repaired my make-up again.

That night George saw everything that I had been hiding from him. His appreciation amply repaid the efforts our friends had made to turn me from a hard-working nurse to a Valentine's Day present we'll never forget.