Family Matters

As if to emphasize that my period of contemplation of Eden Atara Goldman's letter was finished, the doorbell started to ring. The new doorbell was one of those electronic types that can be programmed to practically play a symphony when the button was pushed. Stan the ass-grabber had set it to play Roy Orbison's Pretty Women. I still was trying to grasp that I was a pretty woman these days, it was almost as strange as living with a ghost.

It being a warm day, all the windows and doors were open. After the last note sounded I heard "Glen! Get your ass out here and let your sister in this old pile of bricks. You hear me?"

Sister Carol had arrived to be my bridesmaid.

I knew who my visitor was before I made it to the front hall, so I just answered the front door in my nightgown. Vonda likes me in sexy nightgowns, so that's what I was wearing. Fortunately for my sister, I was wearing panties as well.

I came to the door, gave her a hip shot through the screen and said "You're going to have to work on 'demure' if you want to be my bridesmaid, sis."

"Well I will be damned." Her suitcase hit the porch with a thud. "Mom hasn't lost her marbles! Glen?"

"Glenda."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Could be, but I have gained breasts and hips. Seems like a fair trade. You going to come in or just stand there and gawk?"

She came in. We had barely settled in a couple of comfortable chairs before she demanded the whole story, specifying no bullshit, bro!

There have been times when I wondered if the Fairies had come along and replaced my natural sister with a changeling in the cradle. Before my transformation I had often been described as steadfast or grounded or even practical. Carol was what you might call a seeker. Eastern mysticism in her early teens, a mercifully short period of being Born Again, Ouija boards and reading the Tarot, wearing a burka for a week to see what it was like to be an Islamic woman. I was not the only nutcase in the family, but we expressed our individualism in vastly different ways.

I made an executive decision and gave her the real story of my occult transformation, knowing that she would never be satisfied with the tale we had concocted for public consumption. She inspected my wardrobe, we looked through the albums and the family tree and I showed her the letter I had discovered on waking up.

"So, do I have this right? Every guy that married into the family ended up a girl, just like you did?"

"At least if he married the firstborn daughter and moved into the family home."

"Think it through, Glen…da. If you moved into the family home and turned into a woman then Vonda must be a direct descendant of Mrs Major or you wouldn't have tits!"

It all fell into place. How could something so utterly nonsensical make so much sense?

"You must be right. But how…"

"Think. You just found the link. The Goldmans were going to emigrate to America. Obviously they did and founded a Jewish cadet branch of Mrs Major's family, but since they didn't live in the old family home the men stayed men and nobody noticed anything odd about them."

Damned if my flaky sister hadn't hit on the logical answer. I suppose it took someone who was into this occult shit to make the connection.

"I've got to get dressed and…"

"You mean you aren't going to run out of the place and flash your titties to the world?"

"You're just jealous because I'm bigger than you."

"I'm still an inch taller, shrimp!"

"And it says 36D on my bras. So there!"

"But I can wear a bikini and I bet you can't. The guys must have kept their willies or there wouldn't be multiple children in the family tree."

"There's always the Milkman or the Postman or…"

"Shut up or I'm going to grab your crotch and find out for myself."

"Spoilsport!"

Who says we were adults? We still bicker like children and love every minute of it. I went and got dressed, making sure that my breasts were on full display for my sister.
 

For a wonder, we didn't arrive in the studio to see a shower of sparks, nor was Vonda in her sexy welding leathers. (At least I thought they were sexy.) Instead she was covered in mud up to her elbows, frowning at the half-finished form before her. She picked up some small implement and started scraping away the clay with a delicate touch.

"What's it going to be, love?" I asked and she jumped.

"Don't do that!" she cried.

"She jumps like that whenever she gets ejected from her creative fog." I told my sister. "Honey, I want you to meet my sister Carol. She's shy, so I think you should give her a big hug."

"Do you seriously expect marry this big oaf?" Carol smirked.

"Yes, and she's a little oaf. She fits nicely in the bed, too."

"To each her own. What's that going to be?"

"Don't ask me, I still haven't found out."

"I'd say it was about the size of a bust, but that might give my new sister ideas. She already has enough bust."

"Is she always this jealous, Glenda?"

"Always has been, but at least she never commented on my boobs before."

"I think you invented this whole crazy Mrs Major story just so you could get away with having bigger boobs than I do. Don't think I never caught you peeking."

"Will you two stop with the bickering?" exclaimed Vonda. "I have work to do - go be childish somewhere else."
 

I will never use the phrase girl talk in a derogatory manner ever again. That's how Carol and I spent the afternoon, immersed in girl talk. We rehashed our childhood, rehashed her failed marriage, rehashed my romantic disasters, then went on to hash up the rest of the world.

All that hash was making me hungry. I looked at my watch and it was 5:45 and I hadn't spared a single thought about making dinner. Just about then Vonda came home - she had washed off the worst of the mud, but there were streaks and stains in various places, so she headed to our bedroom to shower.

We held a vote where I exercised Vonda's proxy, leading to a unanimous sentiment to eat out. I opened the bathroom door and informed my constituent of the decision, specifying she wear something nice. I agonized for maybe ninety seconds and picked out a very summery white sundress with red polka-dots - very 1950s - the skirt poofed out with crinolines. Gad, I was becoming such a girly-girl!

I admired myself in the mirror and decided that going braless was just a bit too much in that dress, so found a bra that would work. Mrs Major sure knew a lot about bras for a woman who had never worn one in her life. At least I think she never wore one - do ghosts wear bras?

Vonda came out of the shower looking naked and gorgeous. She gave me a hug, leaving wet spots that made it look look like I was late for a breastfeeding session. Which reminded me - I needed to research how I could induce my breasts to produce milk for our daughter. Doc Christa said my breasts were completely normal, so I hoped that included breastfeeding.

She saw my sun dress and asked "flaunt 'em tonight?"

"I agreed eagerly and enjoyed the show as she dressed. I may no longer be fully male, but I haven't lost my appreciation for a sexy woman. Thanks to Mrs Major there was an identical sundress in blue polka-dots in Vonda's wardrobe. We could take a hint.

Carol came down the stairs in green polka-dots asking how we knew her size and where did we get these adorable dresses? As a woman in this house, it seems Mrs Major had included her in.
 

We attracted quite a bit of attention at the steakhouse but it really wasn't a place where you get bothered by barflies. We were enjoying an after-dinner coffee when I remembered to tell Vonda about the letter. Once she heard it there was nothing to do but visit her parents.

Her father approved of the invasion of the body flaunters and we indulged in the usual small talk such occasions demanded. Finally Vonda asked if there were any Goldmans in the family tree.

"I wouldn't know, darling. Your Aunt Violet is the one who indulges in such things."

So we got Aunt Violet on speakerphone and asked about Goldmans.

"Goldmans, is it? Could be. Let me look on the computer."

So we waited while Violet started her computer and accessed the right file. "Goldman, you said. Right before the big crash… Hmmm… Goldman… Ah! I see an Usher Goldman married in 1925, looks like in Israel."

"That's it!" Vonda exclaimed.

"It is? He married someone named Frye. Eden Atara Frye. They emigrated to America just before the stock market crashed. Three kids, two boys and a girl. Looks like you descend from the girl, like maybe six generations back."

"I would if Mrs Major had any say in it."

"What?"

"Nothing, Aunt Violet. Thank you so much for your help. You've just solved a mystery that is many generations old."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime. I'm glad I could help."

"Bye!"
 

"OK daughter. You may be telling my sister all about it sometime but you're going to tell me about it right now!"

"We will, but you're not going to believe it."

"So now you're going to start lying to me?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Don't answer, Hannah!" scolded her father. "Keep it up and we'll never hear the story."

So we told them the story and they didn't believe it. Even when Vonda took out her phone and showed them pictures of me each day during my change. I haven't mentioned that part so far, it's kind of embarrassing. Nowhere near as embarrassing as having the pictures of my growing breasts and hips displayed to my sister and my in-laws. I insisted on wearing panties but there is no doubt that my naked breasts were growing at a fantastic rate.

"One word: Photoshop." said her father, deadpan.

"One word: bullshit." Vonda shot back. "Can you explain how my implant disappeared so I could get pregnant? They have to cut those things out with a knife, they don't go away by themselves."

"It wore out?"

"It disappeared. Want to see the x-ray? I got it on my phone. Might not be as interesting as Glenda growing tits, but it's very clear."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious. Virtually everything we've been wearing for the last month appeared in our closets. The dresses we are wearing at this very moment came from Mrs Major and weren't in our closets this morning. Did you seriously think I would buy anything this girly for myself?"

"Harold, this whole thing is crazy but that I can believe. Vonda would never have picked out these outfits."

"We aren't going to resolve this tonight, Mom. I have to get home. I have a deadline to meet before I get married and only four more days to get it done."

"Three! You will not be working up until you walk down the aisle. There's the rehearsal and the fittings and lord knows what else."

"I'll never make it!"

"Can I help, lover?" I offered.

"How are you at sanding?"

"Vonda! Just how do I make my living?"

"Oh, you are a carpenter, aren't you? Sometimes I get too focused."

"And Carol is not a stranger to such things, either."

"That may help."
 

Would you believe the next morning that Carol found work boots, overalls and a work shirt in her closet, all tailored and sized to fit her perfectly. Mrs Major was determined to have this wedding go off on time.

The Wedding

They say weddings are often confusing for the happy couple. Our wedding was more confusing for the bemused guests, especially those few that knew me before I became Glenda. Same sex weddings have been legal for years, but the town of Great Oaks isn't exactly in the forefront of the LGBT movement. In our case it might be called confused sex marriage but we were not going to go into any detail.

One thing we never expected was press coverage, but that's what we got. The Big City paper actually sent a stringer and a photographer to cover the event. Vonda's reputation as an artist was widespread and naturally the woman who was restoring Rachel's Repose after years of abandonment rated a couple of paragraphs.

The brides were lovely, the bridesmaids beautiful, the mothers-of-the-brides distinguished and the fathers-of-the-brides handsome. It said so right in the paper the next day.

As you can see from the picture in the article, Vonda decided her pixie cut just didn't work with the dress, so she found a wig that really looked good on her. I opted for four inch heels so we were almost the same height as we walked down the aisle. I kicked the damn things off the second we were done taking pictures.

As weddings go it was a great success, one that neither of us have any desire to repeat. As honeymoons go, it was also a great success, one we were willing to repeat anytime we could.

For the next several months the house was filled with people doing all kinds of noisy and dusty things, but when the work was finished we had a showplace worthy of royalty, not to mention a much larger mortgage. Far from being a house I could flip and earn a small fortune, it had become our home and we were fortunate to have found it and each other. Granted there were times either one of us had to be away on business, but there was always our home to return to.

What more could anybody ask?

Eight Months Later

There is a particular quiet in the country during the winter when it snows, especially when it's two in the morning. I was sitting comfortably in the nursery, contentedly nursing Baby Celeste while her other mother slept peacefully.

What could be more peaceful than a warm room on a cold winter night, a baby at my breast and an heirloom crocheted blanket covering us? I was nodding off again when a change in the light attracted my attention.

Before us stood a very small woman in the dress uniform of the Union army. Her long hair was dressed under her cap, her sword hung at her side and an antique hand cannon hung from the belt. Her stance was quite marshal but her gaze was unmistakably maternal.

"The stars are finally aligned so we can meet, Glenda. I want to thank you for what you have done for me and my family. I didn't give you much choice in the matter because you were the best person out of all those I found to fulfill this role. My line will continue and will prosper because you were willing to accept the challenge I presented to you."

"Mrs Major?" I asked softly so I wouldn't wake the baby."

"That's what they called me. I hated it at first, but it has grown on me over the years."

"I wasn't too pleased with what had grown on me at first, either."

"I know. It was a lot to ask."

"I don't remember being asked."

"A turn of phrase. I didn't ask, but can you honestly say you are not content with the life you now have? The life you hold in your arms?"

"No, you know I can't. I would never go back, not for anything."

"And you will not have to. You and Vonda and Celeste will want for nothing that is in my power to grant,"

"You have been very generous. Is it too gauche to ask just how much you messed with my mind to make it all come out this way?"

"I took no liberties with your mind, dear girl. What you have become is entirely due to your genetics and personality. I suppose you modern women would say I diddled with a couple of genes to convince your body to be as it is, but I really don't understand all the science. I'm still the woman who spied for the Union and did my part to defeat the Rebs. I just have a lot more experience than that bold and naive young girl back then."

"You seem to have mellowed from the woman who laid that curse."

"A natural result of existing as long as I have. While it is popular to call the injunction I laid upon my daughter a curse, it is not a true curse. I can assure you that of all the men who married into my family, you are the first since Petra to do so without understanding all of the consequences.

"As I said, I was a passionate woman while I still breathed, and I allowed my love for the Union and my hatred of the Rebels to overcome my good judgement. Petra was a fine match for my Magdalene but I was blinded by that hatred.

"Your medical people speak of side effects from the many remedies you now have for the ills of the body. There are unintended consequences to all things; I never intended the changes that were thrust upon Petra. Those changes revealed the strength of character inherent in her and over the generations I feel that the men who accepted the love of my daughters and embraced those changes have strengthened and improved the family immeasurably."

"But why me?"

"Ah, yes. I had but one fertile women left in the direct female line of descent, albeit they had branched quite some distance from the stem. That was Vonda as her sister has had a hysterectomy. That leaves only Vonda to continue my female line.

"As for you, you were chosen because of your tolerant nature, your flexibility and ingenious approach to life and your determination to do right by anything you set out to accomplish. I know you believed yourself to be a man who was accustomed to rough work and heavy labor. You were not wrong, but you neglected the artistic side to your personality.

When you restore a building you restore it properly. You do not just patch the cracks and use the cheapest materials and the lowest cost labor to do it. You understand the home, find ways to enhance and improve what you find and use the best materials and treat your workers respectfully. Such a combination of talents is rare in a man and was what led me to you. You and Vonda are much alike in outlook and share a way of looking at the world. You were also a man who was capable of nurturing a child or a person in need of help. What more could I ask of a father - or a mother?"

"Yeah, but why the big breasts?"

"Simple. You just plain like big breasted women, so I thought you'd appreciate being one yourself. I know you darn well appreciate your wife's breasts."

"Guilty as charged."

"I know, dear. I must leave you now, but I have a favor to ask."

"You can certainly ask."

"When Vonda realizes she's pregnant again, could you name her Delilah Rachel?