Now it's Jenny's turn to meet Darlene's family. Just to keep things interesting, Darlene's mother is marrying Don's childhood best friend's father, so Darlene has some introductions to make herself. Along the way Darlene invents double-cross dressing.

Darlene's Thanksgiving

By Ricky

Darlene
The world was gray. The low clouds that spread from horizon to horizon were gray. A slow, steady drizzle turned the pavement gray beneath my wheels. The landscape, changing slowly from the low rolling hills of my home to modest mountains of central Pennsylvania were gray. Even the bare trees were dark gray against the light gray of the hills. I felt gray. Dressed as Don, without so much as a wisp of spandex or silk on my body, the only feminine attributes I possessed were my earrings, but these days even the most macho types think it's cool to wear earrings. November weather is gray, and it sucks. Not a day to give thanks for, but it was Thanksgiving and I was bringing my intended to meet my family. As the hills rose the radio faded into white noise, which made me blue, until Jenny fumbled around with little the CD player and put on the Friends of Fiddler's Green and color came back into the world.

It's quite a trick to get into a bad mood with Jenny around, but she had been sleeping as we made our way southward to my childhood home. I had been blissfully unaware of the mayhem that would ensue in my life when I proposed to Jenny on the way home from a weekend together. It was not making a commitment that was the problem, I was sure Jenny was the woman who I wanted to share my life with. I suppose that despite my penchant for skirts and silks I was afflicted with the typical guy attitude toward weddings: get a ring, stand up and say "I do," live happily ever after. Not so hard, is it?

Yeah. First, meet her family (twice, once as Don, once as Darlene), then introduce her to your family — the purpose of the current drive through the deluge. Don't forget to look for a house because you both live in little apartments and you both want enough closet space for your dresses. Your families live 4 hours apart and both want to help plan the festivities? That's what telephones are for, right? You have no particular interest in religion, your fiancée shows up at church once in a while and her mother is a driving force in her church? I dare you to decide who does the wedding and where it occurs! Then there's the matter of the dress, or should I say dresses.

OK, I know I'm out, I pass well enough to have fooled a whole camp full of church ladies for a weekend and my sister dressed me up from almost before I can remember. Both families have accepted Darlene so what's the problem? Sure, I get a kick out of being Darlene among strangers, but the problem is you don't invite strangers to your wedding. Both mothers will want to invite every soul they have ever known, and not a blooming one of them have any idea that Don and Darlene take turns with my body. I'm a machinist, the guys I work with have not a clue about Darlene and I have gone to some effort to keep it that way. Jenny is a Union activist and organizer, most of her associates haven't even met Don, let alone Darlene. Were all these people ready for a two bride ceremony?

Was I?

And yet the idea of going down the aisle in a white gown is beguiling.

Whoa, Earth to Don: Hit the breaks and don't miss the exit. Jenny woke with a start as I slowed down.

"Where are we?"

"About to leave civilization behind"

"That's nice, I've given up any hope of civilizing you anyway. Where are we?"

"I love a woman who is persistent. We are passing Corning, New York. In about 20 minutes we will turn on to a snake that masquerades as PA Route 6, after which we will be completely unable to pass another car for miles because of the unique topography of the Endless Mountains, which are situated between God's Country and the Poconos and differ only to the marketing departments of the local tourist associations. From there we follow a smaller snake path to a still smaller snake path then shift into low gear and climb a dirt road to the top of Radio Hill, so named because it's the only place a radio will work in these hills, and finally arrive at the old homestead."

"That's nice." She replied and proceeded to go back to sleep, eminently sensible since there was nothing to look at except gray. I followed my own directions and she awoke when I started climbing up Radio Hill. Jenny is a city kid, ascending a muddy dirt road was a new experience, as was climbing the even steeper driveway to the farmhouse. Her hand clutched the grab bar very tightly but we made it in one piece.

The place is quite beautiful in good weather, a huge, old frame farmhouse with wraparound porch, big barn and surrounded by acres of corn, a wonderful place to have grown up. When my father died mom gave up farming for teaching again and rented the land. Much had changed over the years since my childhood. My sister June and I had moved out and after years of study mom was now Professor Leget at the University. Even so, the old barn still stands. The corn had long since been cut and the fields were a sea of mud with stubble poking up through puddles.

"You ready to meet my family?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not unless you want to hijack the pickup and leave me behind. Don't worry, we are all insane but not dangerous to ourselves or society.

"Somehow this doesn't surprise me!"

We got out of the car and dodged a few puddles of our own, streaking for the cover of the porch as the rain came down. I rang the bell and opened the door. The gray of the world was immediately blown away as we entered the house. The smell of mud and rain was driven away by the stunning aroma of roasting turkey and the traditional trimmings. There was a cheerful blaze in the fireplace and two women sitting on the sofa, one of them my sister June.

"Donnie!" June sprang from the sofa and I was enveloped in an enthusiastic hug. "Momma, they're here!" she shouted in my ear. "And you must be Jenny!" Her arms left my body and it was Jenny's turn to get hugged. By this time the other woman had risen from the couch and joined us. "Jenny, this is my husband Stephanie."

Time stood still. I thought I had been kidding about having an insane family, but maybe I hadn't been. Now, after I have had time to think about it, I realize that it shouldn't seem strange for my sister to marry a crossdresser. Hell, it was her influence that started me down the path to my own crossdressing, but I hadn't a clue until this moment.

Despite being an actor, Steve had always seemed to be a bit colorless to me. They both made their living doing Theater in Chicago, and I'm sure you know that lifestyles for most actors are not exactly sedate and conventional. With the distance between upstate New York and Chicago I had never really gotten to know him well. Steve knew of my dressing. Hell, he had escorted Darlene and June on a very memorable night about town a couple of years ago, but he had never breathed a word.

How like June to drop a bomb like this on my intended. She delighted in driving me crazy when we were children and hadn't changed a bit. I was still trying to make sense of it all as I watched Jenny smoothly disengage from my sister and draw Stephanie into a warm embrace. I guess she has experience with meeting strange crossdressers and wasn't about to be flustered by such minor surprises.

Who was I kidding, we were both flabbergasted! While Jenny was greeting my brother/sister in law I gave her the once over. Tall, naturally enough, medium length, loose auburn curls, surprisingly light makeup for a crossdresser (I was jealous!), bulky rust colored knit turtleneck and a full, floor length brown skirt. Very good taste in clothes, I thought. I was pleased in an obscure way that Stephanie wore simple flats and had contented herself with a bustline that was not an exaggerated parody of the feminine figure. I replaced Jenny in the marathon hug and greeted my surprise sister in law.

"Donnie!" Again my childhood name rang out, but this time my mother was the source. Stephanie deftly passed me to her embrace like a well trained square dancer. I was briefly torn between properly greeting my mother and the need to introduce Jenny to her.

"Mom, this is Jenny." The family dance continued as my mother took my love in her arms.

I'll dispense with the dialog for the next few minutes, because if you could follow all the simultaneous conversations and make sense of any one of them then you should be writing this story, not me. Somewhere in the middle of that chaotic greeting I noticed mother's longtime boyfriend Mr. Connors had emerged from the kitchen with her. He wore an apron but, in deference to my already shocked system, it had no frills and he was wearing the typical pants and shirt of the male of the species. I suppose I should call him Pat, as he had requested on the last trip home, but he had been Mr. Connors for most of my life and it was hard to change. He and mom were, in the local parlance, an "item".

So the dance went one more time 'round the circle as he was introduced and at last. I tried to sit down and socialize, but that was not to be.

"Donnie, love," June smiled sweetly and I knew I was in trouble. "I hope you don't mind but I promised Stephanie that Darlene would join us for dinner tonight."

That damned clock went on the fritz again, and time stopped once more. Remember how I was talking about family and strangers? Jesus! Mr. Con- I mean Pat was standing right there and she was asking me to put on a dress in front of Chuck's father?

Chuck, one of my best high school buddies?

Pat was the guy who took me fishing, who let us party in his basement on Saturdays; the bloody bedamned mayor of my home town?

Short of the blood pounding around my ears I don't think there was a sound in that room. Jenny tells me I blush very nicely even when I'm not wearing a skirt and I'm sure I ran through several colors in the next few seconds. It was Pat who broke the silence.

"June, your mother should have taken the paddle to you more often when your were growing up." His grin took the sting from his words. "Don, I've seen the family album and I know all about Darlene, or at least as much as Millie was able to tell me. I hadn't quite bargained for living in a soap opera when I started seeing your mother, but if you can stand it, so can I."

"See, Darlene honey, it's perfectly OK." Nothing stops my sister, I guess. "I really need you to be a mentor for Stephanie, so pretty please be Darlene for dinner?" She fell before me in graceful heap and kissed my feet.

"Over-acting again! No wonder you're always 'at liberty'."

"If I didn't want you to do me a favor I'd tell you what I think of critics, especially amateur critics."

They say home is the one place on Earth where you can stay because they can't throw you out. I was sorely tempted to see if it was true, but Pat interrupted.

"My God, June! I want you as my campaign manager. They say a politician is the only person that can shovel crap faster than a dairy farmer, but I humbly bow to your expertise! I may be running unopposed but you couldn't buy better election insurance than that performance."

My sister fluidly raised her head, squared her shoulders regally and stuck out her tongue at him.

"Don, I won't be offended by Darlene, I've known about her for years but not by name. If you feel comfortable about it make you sister happy."

Say what? My capacity to absorb surprises was getting overloaded. He knew for YEARS? I was speechless, but fortunately Jenny had recovered.

"Of course Darlene will be happy to join you at the table. That is if her mother consents and one of her sisters is kind enough to get her suitcases from the truck while we freshen up before dinner."

"My goodness, at least someone in this madhouse remembers who runs it. Jennifer, I think we will get along splendidly. Darlene will show you where the bathroom is while June gets your suitcases."

We made our escape to the upstairs before anyone else could drop another bomb on us. My old room was still there, but my practical mother had installed her sewing and craft supplies in it (June got the computer in her old room.). The bed was still there and there was room enough in the closet for all our clothes. I removed my toiletries from the small bag I had brought in and grabbed the bathrobe that still hung in the closet even after all this time. Feeling fully justified I swiped June's robe from her old room and took it into the bathroom with Jenny.

I flipped on the space heater and swung the door of the big, old bathroom shut, then I finally collapsed. I had been running on an adrenaline high since I opened the front door (was it only minutes ago?) and truly needed a moment to collect myself. Jenny threw her arms around me as I slouched against the cabinetry in front of the wide bathroom mirror.

"Was it always like that when you were growing up?" Her warm hands surrounded my drooping head and pulled it to her breasts.

"Well, June has traditionally been the start of the hurricane season, a fact of which we constantly reminded my sister, but this may have set a record. Do you still love me even after meeting my family?"

"Of course you silly man about to be a woman. If I could survive growing up with my mother do you think a hurricane would bother me?"

While she spoke she had been unbuttoning my shirt. She slid it down my arms and ran her strong fingers over my shoulders and down my back, bringing her delightful breasts into my face again. I took a nibble through her blouse but it was less than successful.

With Jenny pinned between me and the sink counter a long forgotten memory came flooding back. One weekend when Mom was away my girlfriend had stayed with me. We found out that when she sat on the sink counter she exactly the right height for perfect penetration.

"Want to try something kinky, love?"

"Screwing you in a skirt isn't kinky enough for you?"

"Take off you clothes and let's see if you're as accessible as my old girlfriend."

"Comparisons! Do I get points if I'm better than her?"

"You get my point, if you get my point."

"Turn on the water or they'll hear us!" she hissed, so I reached into the tub and started the shower.

"Not anymore, they won't." I lifted her and sat her on the wide counter.

It still worked.

Eventually reality returned and we quickly showered before a posse was dispatched to find us. A quick shave and we returned to our room. We found our bags on the bed and faced yet another problem — what to wear. I had naturally brought clothes for Darlene but I hadn't expected to need them quite so soon. We had our choice of fashions to try and blend in with among the family. Stephanie was wearing a skirt and stockings, as was June, but mom had opted for jeans and Pat was somewhere in the middle.

High fashion or low? Comfort of flash? I was dithering while Jenny took time to fix her nail polish. If you can't solve the whole problem at once, then start with a piece you can solve. Good advice, that, so I found my bra put it on, settling the forms into place. Mmmm… The soothing feel of my brassiere around me helped to calm me down a bit, so I found my stockings and put them on too. My ancient HipSlip was made for the occasion. This is a multilayered short slip that gives the gentle illusion of hips. I would love to get another one if I could find someone who makes them but the company disappeared years ago. I certainly wasn't going to wear a girdle or corset for Thanksgiving dinner!

"Come on you two — dinner's almost ready!" June's voice floated up the stairs

"Damn — I shouldn't have done these stupid nails, they're still wet!" Jenny waved her hands in a futile attempt to hurry them dry.

"Your personal dresser at your service, madam." I bowed low, an odd gesture while dressed only in bra and panties, then smiling I picked up her bra and held it out. She threaded her hands carefully through the straps and I reached behind her to snap the band. Nice feeling, that, boob to boob with her as I struggled with the hooks. The bra was on cockeyed, so I happily bounced her tits around until they settled in place.

"I much prefer at taking off your bra, but that was fun. Here -" I opened her panties and, carefully balancing herself on my shoulder she stepped into them. "Shall we go for broke or be conservative?"

"Your sister deserves the matching outfits, don't you think?"

Yes, she certainly did. For the first time we had bought identical dresses and it was time to use them. Frankly, I had been hesitant to wear them together because it would bring extra scrutiny to us, but this decidedly weird family dinner seemed to be tailored to the occasion. The skirts were a deep gold color, made from a lovely crenellated material, ankle length and very full.

A simple white blouse showed the lacework of our bras quite clearly. (Damn, I wish I had brought the tape, I would have loved to show some cleavage for June.) A long sleeved half vest, half jacket top flowed over it all, emphasizing the breasts. I held her skirt out and Jenny stepped in.

"Dinner's ready! Get down here or I give it to the hogs!"

Ah, my subtle sibling. I quickly helped Jenny into her top, then dressed myself. I think I set a speed record for crossdressing makeup, if they ever make it an Olympic event I'm a shoo in for the team. Some dangly amethyst earrings with matching necklaces and we were ready. Out the door and down the stairs we went, where I promptly succumbed to stage fright. In the rush I had managed to ignore my misgivings, but now, a step from the dining room door, they came rushing back and I froze.

"I love you Darlene. We're going to knock them dead!" With her hand firmly in my back she propelled me forward.

She was right.

"Oh my God!" That came from the astounded Pat.

"I told you I had two of the prettiest daughters in Pennsylvania, Pat, and you didn't believe me." Mom dug her elbow into her stunned beau." I hadn't known that I had acquired three exquisite daughters until just now. How wonderful!"

"I simply don't believe it!" Pat was still shaking his head, but his rural manners overcame his shock and he seated both the ladies who had entered the room. If he moved somewhat like an automaton no one mentioned the fact.

"Well June," I said in my best feminine voice "I hope I've helped you with whatever you had planned for the evening. For a moment there I was afraid I was going to have to try and remember how to do CPR with Pat as my subject. Pat, if it gets too much for you please let me know and I can find a phone booth and turn back into Don."

"I… I… " He was having trouble! "It will take a lot of getting used to. I thought seeing the pictures would prepare me but…" He trailed off in confusion. I shot a quick look at June, who had the grace to look abashed.

"Don't worry, dear." My mother took Pat's hand in hers and patted it, a gesture I knew of old when she was playing the peacemaker. "You'll get used to it, just like I did. Now, no more talk about clothes or the turkey will get cold."

I didn't quite salute, but I came close. When mom uses that tone of voice she means business. I could just say that we ate dinner, but that would be a gross understatement. I really don't have to describe dinner, you must have eaten the same traditional dinner every Thanksgiving for most of your life, so just remember the best one you ever had and you know how good it was. The wind and rain howled outside but inside the old farmhouse warmth prevailed and a tentative camaraderie blossomed. As is inevitable when introducing someone new into the family, the old stories were exhumed for Jenny.

"Pat," June asked, "did Chuck ever tell you about the time when he was playing ball with Donnie and the ball landed on the roof of the shed?" It appeared that particular episode had not been brought home to father. "Chuck climbed up to get it and found a couple of rocks up there, so he tossed them down so they wouldn't fall on anyone. Of course one of them landed right on Donnie."

"Hey, he was trying to do a good deed!" I replied. "Jenny, let me tell you how my sister lost her front teeth. (Shut up, June!) One of her girlfriends was playing on the swings in the back yard and had wound the chain up as tight as she could. My bubble brained sister was walking straight at the swing set with her mind somewhere on Pluto, heading directly for her friend as she spun around. Mom was screaming at the top of her lungs but June was lost in space. Man, did she scream when she got kicked in the face. Blood everywhere, mom going bananas; it was great!"

"OK Donnie, you just earned this one! I was too young to remember it happening but I'll tell the story anyway. When Donny was about a year old mom used to poke him in the belly button and go 'ding-dong'. Real cute, right? Well one night we had company over and he escaped in the middle of changing his diaper. The cute little bugger was running around naked and entertaining everyone when he perched up on his toy box and tried to do the ding-dong bit. Problem was he could only say 'dong' and he was a few inches lower than his belly button when he started poking himself."

"Peace, Children!" Mom always did stop us just when it was getting fun. "June, you help me with the dessert, Darlene you can get the tea and coffee." Conversation lapsed while we cleared the table and brought out dessert. Ever the good waitress I made the rounds with the coffee and hot water as we were once again seated."

"Just like old times, Darlene. You were always so eager to pour at our little tea parties, weren't you."

"Of course I was, June. Some of my earliest and fondest memories are of being so proud when you let me handle the hot kettle. You were pretty tolerant when I poured tea for all the dolls at the table, too, as I recall."

"Mother Leget," Jenny asked, neatly sidestepping what to call my mother, "Darlene has told me about the tea parties and how June would dress him up, but I'm curious. Just what did you think of your little boy being dressed up like a girl? How did you handle it?"

"To tell you the truth, Jenny, Don wasn't even in kindergarten when they started having tea parties, so it was awfully cute. As far as I can remember it was shortly after their father died that the parties started and they seemed to be having so much fun I didn't worry about it at all. There weren't many things that made us happy back then and I was in pretty bad shape myself coping with being a widow.

I had to spend a lot of time away from the house working and by the time June was old enough to watch her brother safely it was simply part of family life, as odd as that may seem. Don seemed to be a normal boy in everything else, so I decided to let the two of them handle it for themselves as long as it wasn't causing problems. As far as I know Don never told anyone outside the family."

"You're right about that, mom. I guess it's something you soak in through your pores, even when I was a little kid I knew wearing June's old dresses was not something to tell anyone else. It wasn't until June was in high school that I started to be embarrassed about it, but by then I liked it so much it didn't matter. I still remember how excited I was when I got big enough to try on June's old training bras."

"Yeah," my sister commented, "and it scared the crap out of me when you did. Up 'till then it was just a kid's game, but when you wanted to wear my bra I didn't really know what to do. Let me tell you, there's nothing more agonizing than a 15 year old debating the morality of crossdressing, although I didn't even know the word back then. I knew it was wrong, but no one would tell me why. I was scared to ask anyone, even you mom, because it would be just too embarrassing. I tried the library, just like you taught us to do when we wanted to know something new, but since I didn't even know what to call it I couldn't find anything. Damn, I wish the Internet had been around back then!"

"You and me both, June! You know, I never realized you had any doubts about letting me have your old clothes."

"Damn right, sister mine! Do you think I would have let my baby brother know I wasn't his perfect, all knowing superior in every way? At 15? Not a chance!"

She was so vehement we all had to laugh.

"So what did you think when I got old enough to want to start stuffing those bras and pestering you to teach me to use makeup?"

"Well, by then I was ready to leave for college, a wise and worldly woman who would gladly teach her protégé the secrets of femininity. We women of the world care nothing for the pitiful constraints of oppressive society, don't you know?" My sister the actress drew herself up and delivered her lines in such a haughty tone the table again broke into helpless laughter. "Obviously my tutelage was successful."

"At least it was good practice, as I see from looking at your husband." I taunted. "June, why on earth didn't you two tell me before this?"

"Because" Stephanie replied, "despite present appearances I am not a crossdresser."

This statement, delivered in a warm contralto by a man appearing for all the world as a very well dressed woman, brought forth a chorus of derision from all present.

"Good line, Steph. I've used it myself."

Instead of giving me a dirty look he furnished one to June, with plenty of spin on it.

"Let me finish, I am not a crossdresser, I am an actor, or perhaps an actress would seem more appropriate, studying for an upcoming role. June convinced me that I couldn't find a better situation to try the part than among the family. We warned mother so she could brief Pat, but I'll admit I was looking forward to your reaction quite a bit. It was worth it!"

Hoist on my own petard. Even though Jenny's dad had told me what it a petard was, it still galled. Oh yeah, I was insanely jealous of the voice, it was perfect. All those years of doing voiceovers and impersonations had an unexpected benefit.

"Well Stephanie, I think you have the part cold, except for the pie on your bosom. One thing we pseudo women have to keep in mind is where our breasts are or it can be embarrassing with everybody staring at them."

She hastily dabbed at the pie. That got another laugh, as intended. Yes, I took a quick glance at my own mock mammarys to make sure I was behaving like a lady before continuing.

"I think I understand, Steph. Earlier today I was musing on the difference between strangers and family and how I felt about Darlene meeting them. Somehow it's an awful lot easier to be Darlene when no one around me knows me as Don. I don't have to constantly worry about hurting or offending someone just by being me and there isn't that nagging little voice telling me the people I love think I'm nuts!"

"Hmmm — I see." Her gaze settled on Pat for a moment then shifted to me again. "It really was presumptuous of June to sweet-talk you into being Darlene with friends present, no matter how close they are to the family. I really hadn't thought that far ahead when she cooked this up. Please accept at least my apologies, Darlene."

"No need to apologize for upsetting me," said Pat, finally getting a word in edgewise. "When your mother said 'yes' to my proposal I knew I would have to find a place in my heart for both Dan and Darlene, and I think I can find room for Stephanie, however temporary her presence will be."

Say what? Silence has played a big part in my life lately, as befits a crossdressing bachelor who announces both his sartorial preferences and matrimonial commitments to all and sundry. The silence descended once again, but was soon driven out by the sound of cheering. As hard as it was to picture my mother getting married, the glow on her face plainly told me that this was the right thing for her. Serious talk of crossdressing was abandoned for a much more satisfying round of hugs and kisses.

I was so enthusiastic in congratulating the happy couple that I didn't think twice about grabbing Pat and planting a good solid smacker on him. To his credit and my belated surprise he returned the kiss accompanied by a heartfelt hug, which simply made this girl's day. With Jenny's arm comfortably around me we settled in the living room and ignored the dishes by mutual agreement.

"Have you set a date?" I had to ask!

"Have you?" he asked in return.

"Well. That was one of the things Darlene and I wanted to talk about this weekend." My love replied.

"We were thinking about sometime in July or August, I really would like an outdoor ceremony. Besides, even though my intended can appreciate the effort it takes to become beautiful better than most men, he hasn't a clue about how much work a wedding is — at least if my mother is involved! So when are you going to get married?"

"To tell you the truth, we were just going to elope." my mother said in a firm voice.

I was becoming convinced that I would never need ear plugs again, because Silence seemed to have become my closest friend. She certainly seemed to enjoy my company.

Excessively to my way of thinking.

"Mother! You wouldn't? You're kidding, right?" My sister was babbling, not something I have heard very often.

"Well, why not? My intended is a prude, he won't sleep with me unless we're married and I don't intend to wait any longer now I've said yes."

Did I really want to know this? Mothers don't get married. Mothers don't elope. Mothers don't talk about their sex life in front of their children! If I wasn't blushing it was only because Pat had cornered the market on spare blood for facial coloration.

"We got the license last Monday as soon as the office opened. The three day waiting period is up today so tomorrow we're going see Henry (he's the town justice) and let him say the words. I'm too old to want to go through all the folderol with bridesmaids and limos and such, so you are all invited to go with us to Henry's tomorrow and then help move Pat's things into the house when we're done."

Your mind does funny things when it is dealing with emotional high explosives detonating somewhere above your right earlobe. When mom spoke her piece the part that stuck in my consciousness was "no bridesmaids" and all I wanted to do was scream "But I've never been a bridesmaid! I want to be your bridesmaid!"

"Mother! You can't be serious! This is your WEDDING (she clearly pronounced the word in capital letters), not a detour on the way to move furniture!" June had clearly inherited mom's command voice.

"June darling, this is my — I mean our — wedding." It looked like a battle of drill sergeants was forming up. "We are perfectly capable of deciding the way we want to do things by ourselves. We really do not want to make a great fuss about this." Pat had come over and had formed a battle line with mother.

"You can't possibly get married tomorrow!" If you think for a second you are going to get married without me as matron of honor you will have to have the ceremony in a hospital bed, because you will be under 24 hour doctor's care after I finishing up expressing my opinion!"

Yup, she had the voice, the army lost a great drill sergeant when June became an actress.

"That would certainly put a crimp in the honeymoon, darling. Darlene, you have been rather quiet, that's not like you."

I felt like a hand grenade had been lobbed at my feet.

"Mother, you're treating this like an academic exercise, which is a bit much even for a professor. It may be you two taking the vows, but a wedding is as much for your friends and family as it is for you. It doesn't matter how old you are, If you love Pat enough to marry him then you should shout it to the world!"

"Well, we have invited some friends to the house on Saturday afternoon for a simple reception."

"I told you it wouldn't work, Millie Leget-soon-to-be-Connors." The brogue he affected when he had something up his sleeve was thicker than the cream stirred into an Irish Blessing. "There is no such thing as a simple wedding, but I thought it best to let you enjoy your fantasy as long as you could. My love, even you cannot dispense with the traditions."

"Patrick Xavier Connors, you are an infuriating man."

"Ah, Millie-me-dear, 'tis in the genes of the Irish and you'll be getting' used to it, ye shall." It was getting thick in here, and I don't mean just the phony brogue. "Chuck went with me on Tuesday when we reserved the tuxes so that's all taken care of. What I hadn't planned on was the finding of two more strapping men to complement the sudden excess of bridesmaids in my future family. 'Tis the little people at play, I'm sure."

Well, after that I couldn't complain about the all too persistent silence in my life because pandemonium reigned in the halls of the old homestead. I was torn between joy for my mother and pure unadulterated fear at being my mother's bridesmaid. Given the nature of gossip in a small town, Darlene would be revealed to every inhabitant over the age of seven within moments of the ceremony. June was hugging mother and flinging out stage directions and choreography for the ceremony with abandon. My own true love had enveloped Pat in a joyous hug and Stephanie, forgetting the perfect contralto, was booming "Are you all out of your ever-loving minds!?" at the top of his/her lungs.

The second law of thermodynamics, along with stomachs full from Thanksgiving dinner, eventually saved us. As science predicted all that concentrated energy eventually dissipated, flowing off into the ether somewhere. We were rather dissipated ourselves when we finally reached the level of one conversation at a time.

"Mother, Pat," I began, "I don't think I remembered to say congratulations to you before now. Somehow I just never thought about my mother being married again, but I am very glad to see her so happy with you. Pat, I'm honored beyond words to have you welcome me as Darlene to your wedding, but have you really considered what will happen?"

I felt Jenny's arm steal around my neck and pull me close to her as I spoke.

"It's one thing to dress up here at home, but I don't think you realize just what will happen if Darlene was at your wedding. Mother — this is supposed to be your day, not mine. Stephanie might get away with it, most people here don't really know Steve, but no matter how small the wedding may be, when people realize that little Donnie is up there next to you wearing a dress I'm afraid your vows will be the last thing on their minds. I love you too much for that, mom. I just can't do that to you, no matter how much I want to wear a gown and be your bridesmaid."

We met halfway and I held my mother close, closer than I had done since moving away from home to begin a life on my own. The years fell away and I was again a little kid, safe in my mother's arms and it felt very, very good. A strong hand rested on my shoulder and Pat joined in our embrace. I had never known my father, never had the privilege of holding on to two parents before. This man was probably the closest thing I had to a father, but there had never been the element of physical touch in our relationship before.

I was 26 years old and for the first time I had a father. Not only that, but he was a man strong enough to welcome me as both son and daughter without the slightest hint of condemnation or unease. With my eyes still closed as the moment washed over me I felt Jenny join our circle. I have never been a religious man, never found the ability to place my faith in a deity, but at that moment I came close to knowing the benevolent God of my forefathers. The tears fell unheeded, not only mine theirs as something magic occurred. We broke our circle only long enough to admit June and Stephanie and a true and complete family was formed at that instant.

Steve
I know I'm going to regret this. Darlene is so conflicted about her noble sacrifice for her mother she has writer's block and somehow I got elected to continue the story. Just because I'm wearing a dress everyone thinks I am the logical choice. I may be wearing a dress but I'm still male and I know better than to argue with a crowd of real women, so here it goes.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair, a late breakfast I might add. Between five ostensible women trying to use a single bathroom and the fact that we were short on sleep because of the extensive negotiations over the wedding plans the morning started late. My soon-to-be sister in law's mediation enabled three very strong willed people reach a compromise that satisfied everyone The Saturday reception was transformed into a wedding. Today those dressed as girls would shop frantically for clothes while those dressed as boys would phone the guests and inform them of the change. Last but not least, Mamma Millie would wear something without separate legs in its construction.

Let me warn you about two things right here: One — I'm a sarcastic bastard and if you don't appreciate acid humor then skip to the next section of this little story, you won't like it. Two — my name is Steve, not Stephanie and you can take that or leave it too. My brilliant and persuasive wife put me up to this crossdressing shtick because I'm starring in a stage version of Tootsie. I'm an actor first, last and always and this is a juicy role. Having a real crossdresser for a brother in law is a bonus in preparing for the part, but once the production begins I go back to being Steve unless I'm on stage because as far as I'm concerned the clothes are just another costume to make the part believable. When the production is over Stephanie is history unless someone wants to do a revival 20 years from now.

When I got the role, I started with a little research on the subject. Naturally enough for someone in the theater I have a slew of gay friends so I thought I had the inside track. It didn't take long to find out that 'that dog won't hunt' as my one of my previous characters would have put it. Oddly enough I didn't really find any garden variety hetero crossdressers in the theater, at least not in my circle. Maybe that's because we actors spend so much time being other people for a living we want to go home and be ourselves, not another character. Maybe I'm all wet too, I'm just an amateur off the stage.

What just about everyone told me was "Check out the Net" so I did. Of course, any actor who isn't fluent in webspeak is condemned to a lifetime in the minors. Where else can you get so much information about any subject in so short a time, and information is the lifeblood of realizing a character. As I expected the scene runs the gamut from demented to demigod, but what I didn't expect was the plethora of fiction I found.

Science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon once said, "Sure, 90% of science fiction is crud. That's because 90% of everything is crud." I hate to break it to you ladies, but you don't defy the odds. How come most of your writers want to have some chick FORCE them to get dressed up? You people really think you can get behind your guilt by having someone force you to do what your really want to do? Better you should go into acting where they pay you for living your fantasy if you have the knack for convincing an audience.

None of this stuff was any help in developing Tootsie, who was learning to be nice, not nasty. OK, I'll get off my soapbox now, I'm starting to sound like a Director, and Lord knows Directors sit on the right hand, as it were. (We actors know what they're doing with the left one!) I'll get back to the story now.

Now I know at this point I'm supposed to provide a loving description of every damned piece of clothing I put on that morning, with it's pedigree and lineage, but frankly I'm not much interested. I have two bras, both white and cheap, a couple of skirts, a week's worth of panties and the only reason they aren't white was they sell them in packages of nine and you don't get a choice of colors. I have the sweater from last night, which I intend to keep for myself because there is not a person on this planet that can convince me a sweater has a gender bias, 3 tops, 2 dresses, some shoes from the Shoe Source (ten bucks a pair and NOT 6" heels!) and a nightgown. They all fit in a single suitcase, which was all my wife and acting coach let me to take on this journey. Wait a minute, this is starting to sound like one of those godawful domination stories. You don't think this stuff is catching, do you? Anyway, you've heard the phrase 'starving actor' plenty of times. Well let me tell you I don't intend to starve because I bought a fancy wardrobe I'll only use for a few weeks.

Oh, yeah, they'll kick me out of the Crossdressing Writer's Association if I don't tell you how I filled up my bra. Hell, I'll probably get kicked out for admitting that a bag of grapefruit will last me almost a week if I can keep this crowd away from them at breakfast. So anyway my wife and I dressed each other and I sat down to apply my makeup. To my surprise, this was the hardest part of crossdressing for me.

As an actor I regularly put on makeup, often by myself if it's a small production and we can't afford a large staff. The problem is, theatrical makeup is slathered on, no subtlety because you want the patron in the back row to see what your face is doing without having to resort to field glasses. It took a while to get the hang of lightly applying the makeup, thin lines and subtle shading, but after a few days June let me go out of the house without wincing too horribly. I'd been at it almost two weeks now and was almost proficient.

The arguments started before the toast was ready. Remember, I started this thing over breakfast and I've been so busy talking to you that I haven't eaten yet. Momma Millie was still expounding on the virtues of her white pantsuit for the wedding.

"Mother, if you think for a minute you are going to wear pants at your wedding I'll disown you. This gig is serious, not a farce! You are going to look so completely beautiful that Pat will take ten minutes to stammer 'Yes'. Two days to plan a wedding, what were you thinking!"

"I was thinking of a small, simple ceremony without a lot of foolishness, as befits a feminist professor of a 'certain age'. I had hoped that all those years of dressing your brother would have depleted your excessive estrogen to the point of reason. After all dear, did I tell you what to wear when you got married?"

"Of course you did, and it's my turn now! If you could talk me out of that stunning red dress than I am going to talk you out of pants. Darlene, talk some sense into you mother!"

"Yes ma'am, sergeant ma'am!" My role model had on a woolen skirt and sweater, quite conservative and completely appropriate to a woman ten years older than she is. Her intended was dressed as a thoroughly modern woman in slacks and blouse. Undoubtedly my wife would have been similarly attired if I hadn't grumped about being the only woman in the town who still wore a skirt, so traditional femininity won 3-2 in overtime, or is that too masculine a reference for this story?

"If I'm going to have to put on a goddam monkey suit for this thing," Darlene spoke, "you can do your part and wear a dress. Mother, weddings are about romance, excitement, tradition, beauty, pictures! Do you really want to look back on your 10th anniversary and not be able to figure out which one was the bride? June, we arrived none too soon, she might actually have done it if we weren't here!"

"None of this nonsense about feminists and being too old. You're getting married!"

"Flowers, I bet she hasn't even ordered flowers!

"What about a cake, you have to have a cake!"

I had an image of two burly men hauling on a two man saw as they cut the legs from under my mother-in-law, the exchange zipping past her as fast as my head could swivel."

"Peace, children! Peace."

It was past nine before we managed to leave the house. The topic of discussion shifted to whether we should go North to New York or South in Pennsylvania where the two nearest sizable cities lay. Of course none of the women, genetic or otherwise, had a thing to wear except Mamma Millie, who was still advocating for her pantsuit. Demonstrating the practicality of the female of the species we headed South. Why, might you ask, is this a practical decision? Because in New York they charge tax on clothes over $110, in PA they don't. Now what guy would think of that?

I was elected driver, which meant I had the pleasure of Jenny's company in the passenger seat while June harassed Momma Millie in the back. I fear my wife will be a director before long, she just can't resist telling everyone how to play a scene. I tuned out the nattering about the wedding and took to opportunity to get to know my latest relative.

"Well Jenny, still want into this crazy family?"

"Of course I do!"

Poor fool, still floating on love's embrace. She'll learn.

"I can hardly wait to see what happens when June meets my mother. The movie "Clash of the Titans" comes to mind."

"Good gad, another strong willed woman. Not only does the family run to them naturally, but my darling wife manufactured one of her own and now we're importing another. This family knows no restraint."

"Stephanie, I'm counting two uh, manufactured women in the present company, unless my arithmetic has suddenly failed me."

"I suspect that if I survive this weekend I shall have learned enough about impersonating a woman to carry off my part without further training. Right now I feel like I'm in an immersion course for femininity and I don't speak the language. Don't include me in the totals, my dear, I am a special offer, available for a limited time and never to be repeated."

"When pigs have wings, Stephanie." Unbelievers,! Put on a dress and everyone thinks it's a permanent affliction. "You don't expect me to believe that June would want you stop fulfilling her fantasies now you've started, do you? Darlene is as much her creation as Don's."

Ouch, this lady was no fool. To tell the truth I had rather been skirting the issue of how deeply June got into this masquerade.

"Be that as it may, my love, but I really don't find crossdressing that interesting on anything but a professional level. I can understand a bit of why some men enjoy the clothes, but for me it doesn't make any real difference. The amount of work it takes is far more than I would want to do every stinking day and besides, my chest hurts from the weight of these grapefruit in my bra."

"Grapefruit?" She dissolved into giggles, which attracted the attention of the back seat passengers. "She's using grapefruit, Darlene!" Now June and Darlene were giggling and my poor mother in law was looking very confused.

"I stuffed my bra with grapefruit, Mamma. These philistines seem to think it's funny." Now they were all laughing, and it really was pretty silly so I joined in. Just one of the girls, that's me.

I guess we have arrived shopping scene that seems to be mandatory in these stories, although I can't think why anyone would be interested in the details of choosing a dress. It brings to mind a scene from my youth when my father and I, to our profound regret, went shopping for new clothes with my 13 year old sister. Neither of us had any idea what we were in for on that day.

The purpose of our trip was to provide her with some new bluejeans, a task that would have taken me or father about 45 seconds. We entered a large clothing store that must have stocked about 15 million pairs of jeans, each and every one virtually indistinguishable from any other in the store to the male eye. Betsy scrupulously examined each and every stitch of each and every pair and pronounced the entire stock utterly unsuitable to wear in public after some 45 minutes.

This scenario was repeated again at another store as my father slowly rose from simmer to boil to emergency steam overpressure. We returned home without any addition to her wardrobe and my father refused to go shopping with his daughter ever again.

I was rather expecting to relive this scene from my childhood, but it really didn't turn out too badly, especially at the end. In my own male, task oriented viewpoint, we had three quests to fulfill. First, get Millie something June would let her get married in. Second, find reasonably complimentary dresses for June and myself as bridesmaids and third, Darlene had to pick up a tux. Yeah, it's sacrilege for this kind of story but the irony was delicious. More about that later.

Even one as crotchety as myself realizes that wedding dresses are seldom available off the rack, so the hardest task was the first. The natural place to start was one of the larger department stores as K-mart was fresh out of wedding dresses. Even a city as small as this had a megamall nearby so that's where we started.

I comported myself with dignity as my fellow females ransacked the racks reminiscent of a ravening horde fresh off the Asian steppe. Millie reminded me somewhat of my father as my over enthusiastic wife pressed dress after dress against her body. She protested to no avail and eventually they settled on a very nice white lace (or do I mean crochet, I'm really not up on this stuff) lined with a barely pink fabric that kept Millie's mature dignity intact while from a distance it would start most men salivating. Pat was one lucky fellow.

The first goal having been reached, I was no longer allowed to spectate from the sidelines, but was forcibly drawn into a womanly whirlwind. I fear my presence in the group was a problem since I was significantly larger than most bridesmaids, which limited our selection. By this time we had attracted the attention of the sales staff, who offered various helpful suggestions.

My darling wife soon drew me into the dressing rooms (you knew this was coming, didn't you) and I was all for writing a sex scene but June simply refused to cooperate. Oh, she appreciated it when I started playing with her nipples but firmly slapped me down when I tried anything more adventurous. There's something about having your mother standing 2 feet away from you in an open topped booth that discourages intimacy. Don't worry, I intend to make up something outrageous for you when we get back home, and I'll guarantee it will put a bulge in your skirt.

I was required to peel down to my undies and wiggle into a succession of pretty pieces of cloth. If you want more description than that you'll have to ask Darlene because I haven't a clue as to the details. I would advise approaching the subject very circumspectly if you really need to ask; there is nothing quite so forlorn as crossdresser forced to watch as everyone else gets to buy a pretty new dress for a wedding, knowing she will not be a she at the great event.

With passionate and delicate negotiations, a well as innumerable shuttles between the fitting rooms, a compromise was reached. It was here my future sister in law kept the family from disintegrating into one massive quarrel. Darlene told me she's a union negotiator, and by George she managed to find a compromise between the fervently held tastes of these assorted females as they tried to agree on a common theme. June was in a deep green and I in a reddish-brownish color that undoubtedly has a name I am unaware of. In deference to my Adam's apple the dresses had high necklines, but I was going to have to remove my arm hair in order to cope with the short, puffy sleeves on my dress. They were high waisted, the better for those of us with no waist, and full skirted, just dandy for a slow walk down the aisle. The phrase "starving actor" ran through my head once more as we paid the bill.

I thought the ordeal was over, but it wasn't to be so easy. After stowing the boxes in the van my torturers dragged me into some lingerie store with an unbearably cute name. Even though no one was going to see what was under our clothes, it appeared that new underwear was essential for brides and bridesmaids. I thus acquired my first (and I hope only) colored bra and a set of panties to go with it.

I hope you aren't too disappointed that we didn't buy girdles or corsets or sexy garters and stockings. I know some of you crossdressers get off on that stuff, but I dare you to find any of those items in a mall store that caters to real women. Today's women aren't going to wear that kind of crap unless they intend to lead some guy into bed in the very near future, in which case they will take it all off as things get serious.

Hell, June tells me it's getting hard to find a simple slip in a women's store these days, let alone a girdle. If you want to find gartered stockings you had better be prepared to browse among the whips and chains at a specialty shop tucked onto a back alley somewhere. Unless you live in someplace like New York you have to shop the catalogs for that stuff, and even with overnight delivery it wouldn't be here in time for the wedding.

Two tasks down, one to go - but first it was time for lunch. Being very careful not to drop food on my breasts in public, lunch was a haven of quiet after a hectic morning. Except for my cheeks itching abominably and the irrational feeling my stubble was poking through my foundation I was feeling very relaxed in my role. By tacit agreement we avoided any talk of the wedding and kept our discussion to neutral topics. I noticed a distinctly different tenor to the conversation than I had encountered among mixed company or exclusively male gatherings.

The jokes were often pointed, but not personally nasty. The others generally listened more intently as someone spoke and there was a feeling of shared confidences, even on the most open subjects. A good story begat another good anecdote, but there was no sense of the one-upmanship typically found among men. Even a cynical old grouch like me fell into a more accepting attitude. For the first time I started to live the role of a woman comfortably. I stopped consciously studying mannerisms, vocal tones and attitudes; abandoned scrutiny of the others reactions to me and just reacted without conscious thought. By the end of the meal I was no longer an actor learning a part, but was a person living in a comfortable new persona, and I hadn't dropped any food on my tits, either.

Eventually the conversation got around to the honeymoon. Since June was practically purple with curiosity I was surprised she had waited this long to pump Mamma Millie.

"I'm afraid you're going to be vexed with me again, darling. We aren't going anywhere at all. We did get a king size bed that the boys can move for us tomorrow, that should be a good start."

"Mother!"

Why is it that children can never cope with their parents as sexual beings? My wife is as happily horny as a man could wish for, and I know she has discussed (Men boast, women discuss. Truly!) our exploits in and out of the covers with certain close friends. Of course we weren't talking about my mother so I can afford to be smug.

"Now darling, don't get you knickers in a knot. Really, I can't leave my students without a teacher right now and the feed store is still pretty busy. Would a few weeks cruising the Caribbean over winter break be romantic enough to suit you?

"Mother, you are enjoying this!"

"Of course I am, darling. Shouldn't a woman enjoy her wedding day?"

"Mother! You know perfectly well what I mean!"

"Of course I do, darling."

We had one last stop to make, picking up the tuxes. The kid at the counter looked a mite confused as five women entered the normally male establishment. Here Darlene faced a truly odd dilemma. Normally one would try on a tux to be sure it fit properly, but Darlene was hardly dressed for the occasion. I savored the delicious irony of watching a crossdresser reluctant to try on her new clothes, but I had underestimated Darlene.

"Hello, Harold." She had read his nametag, of course. "We're here to pick up some tuxes reserved for Pat Connors." Ah, mystery solved, he knew what to do. He consulted the computer on the desk, then the kid disappeared into the back and came out with the goods. "Thank you, Harold. Now I know this seems a bit unusual, but I need to have you fit me for a tux. I do hope you have something in stock on such short notice." The confused look returned.

"You want to get a tux?" he asked.

"Yes, Harold, I intend to have a bit of fun with my brother at this party. Now I've never done anything like this before, so I really need your help. I suppose I'll need something like the other two are wearing, but I want to have a bit more flair if you know what I mean. Just what do we do first?"

You don't know your size, do you?" the kid squeaked.

"Well, I don't suppose 40C would be too meaningful here, would it?" The kid was definitely turning red. "I suppose you must have a tape measure around here, perhaps that would be a good place to start."

The kid was verging on purple as he nodded vigorously. The four of us were having a very hard time maintaining a decorous demeanor as Darlene led the kid on. Eventually he found a tape, but there was a noticeable hesitation as he approached Darlene.

"Harold, I'm sure a professional such as yourself will be up to this. Just treat me like you would any man who needs formal clothing."

That did it! June had a major coughing fit and her mother escorted her from the shop. Jenny fell into one of the chairs in the waiting area and groped in her purse for a handkerchief. Me, I just had to watch the show. Every actor dreams of being a playwright and I don't think anyone had hit on this particular plot line before. Harold very gingerly placed the tape under Darlene's breasts, 40 inches with no letters attached.

"I'm afraid nature saw fit to endow me with rather small hips, so I think my normal waist size should be close enough, don't you Harold?" The tape descended and the measurement was made. Poor Harold stood there, tape in hand, in an agony of indecision.

"Is that all or is there something else you need to fit me properly?" Darlene wasn't going to let the kid off easily.

"Ma'am, we usually have to measure the inseam for the pants but you aren't wearing pants!" The poor kid was practically wailing.

"Harold," I just had to help the poor kid. "If you'll lend me that tape and show me the dressing room I would be glad to take the measurement for you."

He practically threw the measure at me and wordlessly pointed. I took Darlene by the arm and we entered the small room together.

"Darlene, that was one of the meanest, nastiest things I have ever seen and I just wish I had thought of it myself! You had better adopt that kid and teach him to crossdress because he'll never be able to approach a woman again without severe trauma. You, my dear seem to have single-handedly invented the art of double-cross dressing. My sincere congratulations!"

The two of us began to giggle, fighting to stay in character and not let our normal male laughter escape our lips.

"Darlene, I will be damned if I am going to use this tape on you, unless I wrap it around you neck, so just tell me your inseam and let me out of here!"

The measurement was duly delivered to Harold, who again consulted his computer. Unfortunately there was nothing available in the same style as the other two tuxes. We spent some time looking at the stylebooks and Darlene made her decision just as Millie and June reentered the shop with their faces under control.

"Mother, wouldn't Pat look just stunning in a white tux? Harold, do you have this lovely white tux in Mr. Connor's size?" A few clicks on the keyboard and it appeared he didn't. "Then perhaps you can find the right sizes in this brown crushed velvet." Click-click. No. "Let's try the forest green. Click-click. Bingo! The exchange was made and the tux shop returned to its former male dominated status, much to the relief of the poor, bedraggled Harold.

Five dignified and well comported women made their way back to the van, but once inside they magically transformed into five silly schoolgirls sharing a delicious joke.

"Just treat me like a man! Darlene, you are even more exasperating as my daughter than you were as my son. That poor boy!" Darlene just grinned broadly. "To think I would have missed this if you had let me elope quietly."

The ride home was uneventful and once we unloaded our packages there was little to do for a while. Darlene got first crack at the bathroom. I took my turn and removed my barely noticeable stubble and returned to the bedroom to do my makeup. I had just finished applying the beard cover when June walked in and distracted me as I her image in the mirror began to undress. Her skirt hit the floor and with a graceful motion her blouse soon followed. She approached and my head was soon nestled in the warm valley of her breasts and her hands traced intricate paths along my arms and shoulders. So OK, this is where the obligatory sex scene should occur, but I was so busy having sex I didn't take notes. Since I took my clothes off most crossdressers won't be interested anyway. You'll just have to try another author if you want purple prose so badly.

With that disappointment I will end my part of this narrative. Just to ease your mind we did try it again later in the weekend and the results were more in line with the TG stories. Feeling a skirt swirl around your calves can be almost as good as it sounds when reading about it, so even a cynic such as I can admit I'm wrong, at least this once.

Don't worry, Darlene should find occasion to play with Jenny before the story is over, but I hope she won't find out I'm reading about it until there a good many miles between us.

Darlene
Things were very quiet around the old homestead that afternoon. After I had shaved I returned to the bedroom to renew my makeup and found Jenny sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. From the silence that reigned in the old house I assumed she was not alone. Since I wasn't tired I took my book and went downstairs. Even if it had stopped raining, the weather was cool and I decided a fire would be just lovely. I hauled in some wood from the front porch, laughing at the memory of how much I hated doing this as a kid, especially when it was coated with ice.

With a cheery blaze filling the room with warmth I settled back in the lounger, arranged my skirt and opened my book, feeling very much like a heroine in an old novel. After a while I achieved that state of nirvana where reading and snoozing alternate seamlessly. I lay languid in the chair, absently enjoying the weight of my breast forms as they nestled against my body, opening my eyes occasionally to read another paragraph or two and then slipping back into a doze until a sudden gust of cold air woke me.

The front door opened and in came Pat and Chuck. My peaceful bliss shattered as the familiar panic of a trapped crossdresser replaced it when I saw Chuck enter. The recliner made it impossible to move suddenly, which is the only thing that saved me from dashing from the room in embarrassment and terror. I stared at him, far more mature than the kid I had remembered. He sported a full beard, medium length hair and looked fit and trim, but he was obviously as nervous as I was.

"Good afternoon, Darlene. Is Millie around?" Pat spoke in a perfectly normal voice and my heart started to resume a more normal rhythm. It took a little longer to find my voice.

"Everyone is napping as far as I can tell. Come in, sit down and enjoy the fire until they wake up." The perfect hostess, that's me. "Hi, Chuck. It's really me."

"Yeah."

With an effort I reached for my normal voice. "Chuck, I really am your old buddy Don, but this is a part of me too, one that I couldn't tell you about when we were kids."

"Yeah."

Pat hugged his son and urged him to the couch. "Kind of hard to take in, isn't it Chuck?"

"Yeah.

This conversation was getting nowhere.

"Jesus, Don. You really like dressing like that?"

Well, I suppose that was better than 'Yeah'.

"Yeah."

I flatter myself that I mimicked his tone perfectly. The deadpan humor penetrated his shock and the tension dissolved.

"Yeah, Chuck, I really like dressing like this, and I have been doing it as long as I can remember."

I launched into the standard Crossdressing 101 lecture, which I'll spare you because you must have heard it before, then conducted the Q&A session afterward. My mother's professorial influence at work, no doubt.

"OK, you two It's my turn now. Chuck, I have been dying to know how you found out about Darlene since your dad told me last night. I would have beat it out of him there and then if he hadn't dropped his own bombshell. Give, old buddy, I thought I had gotten away clean."

"Yeah."

Jeez — not again?

"OK," he continued. "I guess I had pretty much convinced myself I was seeing things after all these years. Remember when I got my first car?"

"How could I forget? You must have showed it to every person in town except me and worn their ear off telling them what you were going to do with it! I was really pissed you took off for school without letting me see it. Whatever happened to the old clunker?

"It rusted out and the engine finally died, so it got dragged to the junkyard. I hated to do that, it was a great car. Anyway, I wanted you to be the first one to see it, so I drove up here to show you. I knew you had to be here because the car was here but nobody answered the bell. I just walked in and saw June on the back porch with a couple of her friends. Since they didn't know I was there I took the time to check them out, June is a good looking lady and so was her friend. It took a few minutes before I realized the third one was you.

"Christ, Don, I hadn't a clue what to do. I mean, my best buddy was sitting out there in a goddamn dress! I sneaked back out and went home and hid out in my room until Pop finally asked what was wrong."

"Not that I was able to tell him much, Darlene." I was pleased that Pat had the kindness to call me 'Darlene' right then. "Remember that was the time when Kirsten left us and with the divorce I was pretty messed up myself. To tell you the truth I wasn't sure I believed Chuck, it just seemed too weird. Anyway, with the both of you gone it just got forgotten after a while."

"Yeah. When I got to school I eventually met some openly gay folks and finally got the nerve to ask one guy I knew about it. Funny thing is he didn't know any more than I did. Josh was a cool dude, he got to be a pretty good friend by the time we graduated.

For a while I was feeling pretty proud of myself for having a gay friend until I realized I was being just as prejudiced at the other end of the scale because I was so damn liberal. I guess it's like with my black friends. We're friends, but I'll always be very aware they're black, just like I'm always aware that Josh is gay. He's never made a pass at me, no more than most of my female friends have ever made a pass at me, but because he doesn't quite fit the ideas I grew up with I'm always going think of him as a gay man instead of just a man."

"So how are you going to think of your old buddy Don now?"

"Jeez, I don't know. All the way up here I was hoping I would find the guy I grew up with still sitting here, no different than when we lost touch over the years. I know that's dumb but that's what I wanted. I just don't know how I feel right now. I don't think I would have given you a second glance if I had seen you somewhere else but when I look close I can see you're Don. It's still too new and weird right now."

"Yeah, it is hard to get used to. Not that I'm out to that many people, but it takes some time. If it's any consolation you'll be standing next to Don tomorrow at the wedding."

"Yeah, Pop told me." He paused. "You really grew up wearing dresses and your mom and sister let you?"

"Let me? It was June who started the whole thing before I was old enough to know it was odd. It wasn't until I was about eight I figured out I shouldn't tell anyone about it."

"And your mom just let you? Even in high school? I don't get it!"

"Charles, his mother was an overworked and overage radical feminist college student when he was in high school."

We all jumped as my mother's voice joined the conversation. We had been so intent on each other we hadn't even noticed her.

"My friends took it as a given that men were completely useless, a drag on society that should be abolished. At that time I believed them and it struck me then that having a son who wanted to be my daughter was a blow for liberation. Of course that was a load of crap, but when you're a freshly reborn radical you can blithely ignore the details and keep ranting."

"Well, you succeeded in raising two committed feminists, mother."

"Damn right I did! Charles, it wasn't as if Don dressed up every day when he got home from school, you know. By that time both he and June were pretty busy with all their interests, but every so often they had one of their tea parties and seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. He was so cute when he was a baby that I just laughed when June dressed him up. I hadn't really realized quite how much Don enjoyed being Darlene as he got older because I spent so much time away at work and school. Wasn't it your freshman year when I came home late one night and you were wearing a nightgown?"

"Uh-huh. Mother, I was wearing a nightgown almost every night after June went to college. I hate to tell you this, mom, but I got dressed up just about whenever you left the house and mostly I tried to change back before you got home. You were pretty cool about it, but I was still a bit shy even so. The hardest part was making sure I hadn't left anything suspicious around when Chuckie spent the night. I guess you never figured it out, did you Chuck?"

"Jeez, I can't figure any of this out. It's like there's a whole new person I never got to know before. I wish I had really been seeing things and this weren't happening."

"Well, there were times I wished I was normal, or at least what most people thought of as normal, too. It took me a while to realize I was happy as I was and I really didn't want to change. Chuck, you and your dad are the first people I grew up with to know about Darlene, and I really don't know how to handle the situation either. I had no idea this would happen when we came down for Thanksgiving. If you're uncomfortable I am perfectly willing to go upstairs and change my clothes."

"Aw jeez — I guess I can take it. I've been staring at your ugly mug for half an hour and it hasn't turned me into a toad or anything."

"I don't think anyone would notice a difference unless you suddenly said 'Ribbit'!"

"Children, no fighting, mother commands it. If we intend to eat tonight we had better start cooking. Darlene, you are the resident culinary genius so let's look through the freezer and see what we can come up with."

I rose and couldn't help doing a little spin to flare out my skirt as I left the room. Chuck made a choking noise but I didn't stop to investigate. We settled on chicken vindaloo, so I put the chicken in the microwave to thaw and called out to the living room.

"Chuckie! This is a non-discriminatory household and men are presumed to be competent in the kitchen. Get in here and chop some onions for me."

I really did want to catch up with my old friend's life, and with the distraction of kitchen chores we were soon comfortably filling each other in on our lives. People started drifting in as the scent of Indian spices wafted through the house. Each was soon drafted to set the table or some other useful task like washing last night's dishes; they still hadn't gone away. Eventually we were all seated at the table and spooning the fragrant sauce over mounds of basmati rice. The rest of the evening passed quietly, in the warm glow of family, good conversation and friendship

---

Saturday dawned clear and cool, a lovely bright day filled with romance. In your dreams, it did. I got dragged out of bed far too early and took the pickup down to town where we filled it with the things Pat was moving into mom's place. No skirts, flounce or femininity; just sweat and toil moving schlepping boxes and bales. I was jealous of Steve, who remained incognito as Stephanie so the town wouldn't start buzzing about why mom's son in law could move furniture but not attend her wedding. Actually, we didn't move too much furniture, since the house was already well furnished. Most of the big things stayed to be sold later, we moved the personal stuff you accumulate over a lifetime in one house. We also picked up the new king size bed, not neglecting to speculate about its use for Pat. Just us guys there, the jokes were predictable.

The boxes were stashed in the barn for the duration, after all there was company coming. We shoehorned the bed and Pat's dresser in the bedroom, squeezed his clothes in the closet and broke for lunch. Afterward the battle of the bathroom began. Three o'clock was rapidly approaching and we all wanted to look our best. Twice Jenny & I heard the door of the bathroom open and tried to get in, but were beaten out by those with closer bedrooms. What the heck, if we had to wait, why not do something fun?

I casually placed my arms around Jenny and weighed her lovely breasts in my hand. Her warm and yielding flesh was alive in my palms and my fingers soon found her nipples beneath the soft fabric of her robe. Somewhere in the back of my awareness I heard the bathroom door open. Rats! Infuriating people, why couldn't they have taken longer?

"Bathroom! Quick before someone else takes it!"

Like Steph said, women are a practical species.

June
Bong! The grandfather clock in the front hall chimed one o'clock. We had moved some extraneous furniture from the living room to make room for people. Then we set up the motley assortment of folding chairs that had accumulated in the old house over the years, leaving the requisite aisle for the bride and groom in the center. The huge living room of the old farmhouse was certainly big enough for the twenty of so guests we expected.

Bong-Bong! Grandpa reminded us as the caterer's came and the flowers arrived.

Bong-bong-bong! Only an hour to go, grandpa announced. Steph and I were making ourselves beautiful while Don wandered around doing useless things to kill time. He was ready early, after all how long does it take to put on a tux and comb your hair? I think my baby brother was really regretting his nobility and dreaming of being a bridesmaid. Well, Jenny and I were going to rectify that when they got married. Darlene didn't know it yet but we had already started planning a two bride ceremony.

The guests started to arrive, but grandpa didn't say a thing. The old coot reserved his comments for 15 minute intervals despite the festivities surrounding him. At least Don had something to do now, he and Chuck seated the guests while enduring variations on the theme of 'My how you've grown' from certain older women in the crowd. Henry arrived and set his book on the table in front of the crowd and proceeded to beam happily at the assemblage. One by one we descended the stairs and cowered in the kitchen, awaiting the signal to emerge.

Bong-bong-bong-bong! Chuck and Don checked in the kitchen — all accounted for. I checked the guest list, all present. Time to get the show on the road. Jenny slipped in the tape into the stereo and Henry Purcell's Prelude in G (downloaded from the net last night at great length over the lousy dial up connection and hastily dubbed to tape) began, so I took Chuck's arm and we made their way down the aisle. Don offered an arm to Stephanie and followed us

I'm glad the wedding party is supposed to turn around before the bride comes down the aisle because I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for anything. At first it was amusing to see my brother take my husband's arm and escort her down the aisle, but part way down something else intruded on my thoughts. Here were the two very important men in my life, both of whom I had encouraged to crossdress, arm in arm at my mother's wedding. Oddly enough, my brother, who really wanted to be a bridesmaid so badly it hurt was his mundane self while my husband, who was still protesting the state of his attire, was wearing a lovely dress and clutching a bouquet of flowers. She looked radiant, completely feminine and utterly convincing as a woman of middle years.

She also looked sexy. Yeah, sexy, at least to me. Now that was something I wasn't expecting. I defy anyone to get excited seeing their baby brother in a dress, so I had never really connected crossdressing with being aroused. Here I was in the middle of a wedding having olfactory hallucinations of grapefruit watching my husband walk up the aisle. They had to be hallucinations because Darlene had loaned Stephanie her forms - grapefruit was just so not suitable for wedding!

My reverie was broken when the music stopped and then the tape started to play the traditional Wedding March, which was about the only thing traditional in this wedding. Mom was gorgeous in her gown, Pat was resplendent in his tux, the two of them holding hands as they walked down the aisle. The room seemed to light with their love as they made their way foreword to stand in front of Henry.

The ceremony itself was brief, the words the much like the ones you could hear at any wedding anywhere in the world. The words "I do!" rang out clear and joyous as they pledged themselves to each other and then it was over. Over except for the hugging, kissing, crying and congratulations that is. Don was first to kiss the bride, neatly cutting Chuckie out by the way.

"And you were going to elope!" Don taunted mom. "Really, this older generation just doesn't appreciate the traditional way of doing things." He thus became the first one to get clobbered by the bride.

"Donald William Leget, I've not been married for five minutes and you are already questioning my judgment. I'll have you know you are completely correct and, much as it pains me to admit it, I'm glad you youngsters talked me into it. Just don't think it well become a habit. We old married women can make up our own minds, you know."

"Hummm…" This from Pat. "It seems you haven't lost your knack of ranting, my love. I was lucky to get you to shut up long enough to propose, you know."

"Patrick Xavier Connors," All three of his names, we were in serious trouble here. "I shamelessly manipulated you into that proposal pure and simple. It wasn't hard to do, either! I wasn't going to bruise your fragile male ego by proposing to you."

By now the entire room was listening and this was greeted with gales of laughter. Soon the guests were going down the receiving line and gently chiding mother themselves. I could see the curious looks that Stephanie was receiving, just who was this unknown woman in the wedding party?

"Mrs. Billings, how wonderful to see you. I don't think you've meet my dear friend Stephanie from Chicago. She came up with me when my husband couldn't make it and graciously kept my brother from being unbalanced when mother sprung this wedding on us."

"A hopeless case, June. We all know Don has been unbalanced for years. If it were possible to straighten him out someone would have done it by now."

"I will have you know," my brother drew himself up haughtily to full height," that I am the very model of rectitude for this family. However, there may be some truth to my sister's base canard because I intend to get just a little bit tipsy on Champaign before the afternoon is over."

"You're right, Mrs. Billings, he's completely hopeless. Have you met Jenny yet? She's taken on the task of trying to keep him sober long enough to say "I do" to her without slurring the words."

"Children!" Mom didn't have to shout, she used what Don so aptly termed her command voice. "This is my wedding and you will not spoil it by bickering. Both of you behave yourselves."

"Marriage hasn't mellowed her a bit, has it Donnie? As soon as we start having fun mom yells at us."

"Yeah. Mother, shut up and kiss your husband while I play with my sister."

And so it went. Good natured joking, lots of hugging and catching up with old friends. Steve was marvelous, socializing in the role of Stephanie without a trace of hesitation. He was going to be magnificent as Tootsie! He was still claiming that crossdressing was strictly business, but I know him better than that. I had really enjoyed having a girlfriend around the house these last couple of weeks and I had no doubt that his dresses would be hanging in our closet long after the play closed. I taught my brother to enjoy his feminine side and I was confident of my ability to do the same with my husband. Besides, Jenny wants both of us in their wedding party. Since there are going to be two brides, there just won't be a place for Steve. No problem at all!