Yes.

Petra moves John swiftly to another room, past the gowns that John half-remembers having seen on her way inside, what seems like a lifetime ago, down past them and into a spacious changing room filled with mirrors, and lace, and silk and...

...in the very center of it all, the dress.

Her dress.

John shut her eyes and bit her lip as Petra began stripping the former man in a business-like manner, trying to stay come when she was anything but. Teresa's 'gift' had made her sensitive to the slightest touch of cloth against her skin, and the feel of the red dress being shimmied off her nubile body almost made John cry out. But the worst was yet to come as Petra began to dress her - imprison her - in the gown.

It was immaculately white, exposing her shoulders and an almost scandalous amount of cleavage, not helped by the tight bodice which cinched her waist and pushed up her already large breasts. In spite of the risque top, the rest of the gown was chokingly traditional and feminine, with a full skirts and petticoats and a tight underskirt, a long bustle and a train - and when her stockinged legs made contact with the fabric, John shuddered and bit back a moan.

She felt a flimsy cloth settle about her head, then Petra whispered: "It's done. Look."

Unable to resist the command, John opened her eyes... and saw, reflected from every mirror, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Every inch the perfect, blushing bride.

A bride.

Every fiber of her being screamed it even as her mind denied it.

John was a bride.

"I..." she whispered. "I'm..."

"...beautiful," says a voice from the doorway.

John whirls around and sees --