“So…you going to the wedding?”

Generally speaking, my brother is a good guy. I have to speak in generalities, because when you get into the specifics it breaks down a little. Like right now. He’s sitting here, playing Monolith, and pestering me about going to another family wedding.

It’s not that I have anything against family weddings, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that they make me depressed: The girls standing around in their beautiful dresses, smiling and sharing their secrets; the beautiful bride in hear beautiful dress; and any of a number of other little things that just make me ache inside.

I want to be a girl. I want it so badly that it hurts in a physical pain. I feel my heart breaking a little bit as I think about what this new wedding will mean.

The last of my first cousins is getting married, so it will be the last wedding. My parents were the first to marry on my dad’s side of the family. They were second on my mom’s. And mom and dad came from good sized families.

I have fourteen married first cousins. Fourteen moments in which I have been stuck there in a suit and tie, wanting to be stuck there in a beautiful dress.

Yes, I meant stuck. You see, we have this tradition in our family that the wedding party is made up of family. Even the best man and the maid of honor. I like the tradition, but you still have to stand around for a couple of hours in a receiving line, waiting for people to arrive so that the real party can begin.

Not too bad. I get to see all the pretty dresses as they pass by, and no one expects anything different from me other than standing there with a wooden expression and a fake smile plastered on my face.

So, while it is sort of expected that I show up to the reception, I’ve bowed out.

Somewhere down the line I decided that fourteen wedding parties were enough and I didn’t need a number fifteen.

I am the second oldest of all of my cousins. That means that by the time any of them were ready to tie the knot, I was right there. I was best man to three of them, and groomsman to the rest. One of the guys I was best man to was actually my cousin’s fiancé at the time.

That was likely the most difficult bachelor party of them all.

“Cray? You there, man?”

I’d gotten lost in my own thoughts as I considered his question.

“I’m just not up to it, Jeff.”

“It’s the last one…well at least till you get married.” He says with a smirk. The smirk is because he thinks I’m gay.

He’s half right. I am attracted to men. Thing is, so is any other hetero girl. “Jeff, I’m not getting married.”

So many times in the past I’ve explained this to him, and my parents, and grandparents…and a lot of other members of my family.

“Why not just ask Angela? You two have been dating forever.”

“Maybe I will.” I say sarcastically.

“No need to be rude.” He responds.

I leave his room, and walk out to my car. I still don’t know what possesses me to spend time with him. He is my brother, but he’s also one of the most bigoted people I know. Harsh, I know, but necessary to say.

I’m still upset with him, as I take a seat in my electric blue Neon. The only reason I purchased it is because it was the exact same shade as this nail polish I drooled over as a teen. The car comes to life in a little purr. I think that’s part of the reason people think of it as a car “for girls.” It is unassuming. It has a little bit of power under the hood though, and I’ve shocked some people with the speed that I can get it off the line.

He told my parents that I’m gay. That’s most of the reason I told them the truth. I tried to explain to them what it means to be transgender. My mom kinda got it, but my dad doesn’t get it at all. He thinks that it’s a phase, or me lying to myself.

I tried to explain that I identified with characters like Jamie Summers and Wonder Woman and he blew it off saying that they were “Very Masculine” in their behavior. Even my mom glared at him over that one.

My dad is a product of his upbringing, and for a genius he can be a little dense. No, he really is a genius, technically speaking. He has a 135 IQ. Mom is a bit below that at 130.

My brothers fall generally in the same range. My sister has a 148.

Not sure why I mention her. I mean, she is the second smartest in the family. I top out at a lofty, nosebleed waiting to happen of 169.

No, my grandmother, dad’s mother, is the second most bigoted person I know. She successfully indoctrinated my dad to such a degree that he doesn’t even question some of the stupid things that come out of his mouth. Like the fact that it is impossible for there to be a beautiful female scientist, because beautiful women don’t need to apply themselves mentally.

Sorry, that’s the family I live with.

I drive home as I continue to ponder the inequities of life. I wave to Angela as I pass her heading for my apartment. Living next to her is nice. I can go over and talk to her whenever I like. Makes life easier living as me.

Or I should say the only me that I’m allowed to be.

I have no plans of transitioning as it would hurt my mom too much. And my sister. I really don’t think I could disappoint either of them like that. I really respect their opinions.

Tonight, I indulge myself a bit and take a bath. I take baths on a regular basis so I can just soak and forget things for a while. The water soothes me. Not as much as swimming does, but at least a little. Of course, that act shows me my other shame.

No, not my maleness. My weight. I am so far overweight that it pains me to even see myself in the mirror anymore. At six-five I should be around two-hundred, or I should say I would prefer to be that weight. I’m almost three-twenty.

I would consider making it a bubble bath, but I have to at least pretend to be a guy.

It hurts to pretend.

For some reason, I'm more restless than normal, so I quickly get out of the tub and head to my living room. I sit there naked and dripping on my plush carpeting and my supple leather couch.

I should really dry off before sitting down, but I don’t. It’s because of times like this that I have a tab at an upholstery shop. I get this couch re-upholstered a couple of times a year. I have to have something to spend my money on.

Even with these little splurges, my bank account is a lot larger than I’d prefer it to be. I want to spend money, but I feel guilty spending it on myself. I tried the whole dating thing, but it never went anywhere.

So, I live in my modest apartment, in a modest part of town, and live my modest life, while my money sits and compounds.

I turn on the television and surf for a bit before I hit a commercial for a new ‘nano-potion.’ I wonder once again if the invention of nano-tech in 2005 was really worth it. The world is such a different place than it was back then, but isn’t that always the case?

One moment you’re convinced that the iPod is the most advanced piece of technology in the world, and the next you are poping an iEye contact in so that you can watch in the comfort of your own mind…or so the advertising goes. I have enough problems putting in prescription contacts.

Yes, I wear glasses. One thing I will admit, nano-constructed invisible frames are the best thing to ever be invented. I even forget I am wearing glasses sometimes, to be honest.

Maybe that’s what I should spend my money on: corrective surgery. I consider that for a few moments letting the inane advertising wash over me. All of these potions are the same. They’re all supposed to make you beautiful, successful, and/or get you laid more. No one has ever really explained how a potion laced with bio-mechanicals is supposed to do that for you.

“Hey, Cray. You in?”

“Angela? Wait a moment.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen, and besides, you’re not my type and you know it.”

It’s meant in fun, but it still hurts.

“Just because I’m fat…”

“It’s because you’re a woman, and you know it.”

“Not that I look much like one.”

“On one of those kicks are we? So, Cray, when can we meet for the after party so that you can tell me all about the clothing at this wedding?”

“Not going.”

“What are you talking about? You always go…”

“Not this time. Frank wanted a non-family member as his best man. He’s only marrying in after all. That means that unless we want an uneven number of participants, I got the option to sit out. My brother Jeff is trying to convince me to take his place. He hates weddings almost as much as I do, although for different reasons.”

“Yeah, can’t miss out on raid night.”

We both laugh. It’s an old joke with us. The advent of immersive games sort of spelled the end of the ‘traditional’ massively multiplayer games, but it spawned games in a similar vein. More specifically it spawned one game. No one really competes with Monolith.

The joke was that Monolith had none of the things that populated the ‘old school’ online games. No raiding or such…

I smile for a bit and think of the old days when I could play a female character in those games and let myself be…me for a couple of hours a day.

Monolith doesn't allow you to present as a different gender.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You and I can have another movie night?” Angela makes it a question, even if it didn’t seem like it should be.

“I guess…”

“Wow, you’re really down on yourself this evening.”

“Angela, I’m fat. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m masculine. Not just male, but masculine. It’s part of the reason I started binging in the first place. I ate to feel better, which made me guilty, so I ate to feel better…”

“Look, hon, we’ve all been there. Every girl…”

“But that’s just it, I’m not a girl, and I’m never going to be one!”

“Liadan, sit your ass back down on that couch and stop yelling.”

I shut up and sit down. It is the shock of hearing her use my name. Not the name my parents gave me, but the one she gave me. It’s Celtic, or something, and means Lady, I think.

It reminds me of who I wanted to be every time she used it. She saves it for special occasions, and chewing me out for self-pity is one of them.

“Liadan, you know you are a woman, in your heart. No matter what you look like, you are a woman.”

“But I don’t look like one, and no man would ever…”

She looks at me with an arched eyebrow.

I blushed. “I meant that no heterosexual man would ever want me.”

“Is that really a problem?”

“You know my parents…”

“I do, and one of these days you’re just going to have to do something and expect them to follow along. Make your own choices, Li.”

“Just cause my name is pronounced Leedan, doesn’t mean you get to shorten it into a boy’s name.” I say and stick my tongue out at her.

I begin to really relax as Angela and I talk for a little longer. I grab the single piece of female clothing I own, a flower printed kimono, and come back out to the living room again. She brushes my hair for an hour or so, and we talk. I’m still not going to the wedding, even if it is a Social event. It’s just not the same in a tux, even if it is tailored perfectly. Tuxes are designed to be looked at, not moved in.

Not like a dress. Sure, many dresses are designed like tuxes, form over function, but even so, you still have some freedom of limb at least.

“I’ve never known anyone who loves getting their hair brushed as much as you do,” Angela says as she finishes plaiting my tresses. I just smile in contentment. My hair is almost to my butt, when I leave it loose. The only thing that saddens me about it is the grey.

“I’m too old, Angela. If I transition now, what will be the point. I’m set in my ways.”

“Thirty-seven isn’t old.” She chides, “And it’s not like you’ll have children.”

I begin to cry. It comes out of nowhere, this feeling of hopelessness. Angela just sits behind me and holds me. She’s a good friend. I feel so feminine sitting there in the kimono she bought me, with my hair in a braid down my back.

She speaks softly to me, but I don’t understand her words, and before I know it I’m asleep.

I wake up to the sound of my phone. I turned off voicemail a couple of years ago because I hate returning phone calls. It rings for about five minutes before I finally find it and answer.

“Hello?”

“Cray?” It’s my mom’s voice.

“What time is it?”

“Four am. Look, sorry to be calling you so early, but Jenny’s sick.”

“And…”

“And I know I’m going to regret saying this, but could you be a girl for the wedding?”

This has to be a dream. I try to temper the feeling of my heart soaring with the knowledge that it will hurt all the more when I wake up.

“How am I going to do that?”

“Your dad is going down to the store to pick up a Femin-U potion.”

“A what?”

“We saw it last night on TV. Apparently it transforms you into a girl for about a day. Then you turn back. We figure we’ll get one for the fittings today, and then you take another for the wedding next week.”

“How ‘bout I decide this when I actually wake up?” I ask.

“There’s no time. Kate is picking you up in about two minutes.”

My doorbell rings.

“That’ll be her. Love you, sweetie. You’ll do fine.”

I’m so dazed that I go to the door in my kimono with my hair still braided.

“Hey, sis,” Kate says.

“Sis?”

“Well, at least for today, and it looks like you’ve already gotten started.”

“No, that was me last night,” Angela says from my couch.

“You two have a sleep over last night?”

“Sort of…your sister was a bit suicidal again.”

“I was not,” I say, but my blush gives me away.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Angela. You ready, Liadan?”

My sister is the only person in my family who knows my name. She knows me, really, since Angela was always her best friend. She is my only real friend. Well, the only friend Liadan has. The two girls just smile at me, and then Angela makes a move to leave, “Well, I’ll see you later then, Liadan, Kate.”

“Hell no,” I say, “if I’m doing this, then you’re coming with me, Angela. I’m sure we can get you an invite to the wedding.”

“An excellent idea if I do say so myself,” Kate replies.

“But I don’t have a thing to wear.”

“Good thing we’re going to a dress shop, then, isn’t it?” I ask with a smirk.

“Dad said he’d meet us at the house where you can drink the potion and change clothing.”

“Change?”

Angela smirks at me, “You dad doesn’t want you showing up at a dress shop in drag.”

“But…”

“She means dressed as a guy, Liadan,” Angela supplies.

“Oh,” I say with a smile. Say what you will about my dad, at least he’s consistent.

We pile into my car and I turn on the radio to a girl-rock station. The three of us are soon signing along, even if my baritone seems a little out of place with the grrl-power lyrics.

I’ve always wanted to be able to go out with my sister and Angela as just ‘one of the girls,’ and for the moment it looks like I get my wish. We’ll see what tomorrow holds.

We get to my parent’s home about five am, and I'm rushed inside by my father. When he’s like this I have trouble thinking of him as dad.

“Look, Cray, I figure that this is the best way to cure you of this little obsession of yours.”

“Obsession?”

“With being a girl. You’ll go to the reception, and at the end of it, you’ll realize what it really means to be a woman. It’s not all dress-up and pretty clothes. Women just think differently that we do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Here.” He pushes one of the standard bulbs of potion at me. It’s a translucent royal blue color. There’s no label on the bottle.

“You sure this is the right one?”

“I took off the label in the store. I didn’t want anyone to see me carrying a bottle of this stuff home.” He was blushing furiously.

“I’ll have Kate get it for me next week then.”

I quaff it down, and giggle a bit. It tickles on the way down. That’s likely the little nannites slipping out through the lining of my throat. Most of them anyway.

Nothing happens, so I go to look through what my mom has gathered for me.

“What do you think, sweetie. I’m sorry it’s pink, but we have limited choices…”

There’s a pink hoodie and a pair of pink sweat pants with a white stripe down each leg. The sweats are too short, and the top is a little tight, but they mostly fit. Mom is blushing when I change. I have no qualms stripping off my boy shorts and slipping into a pair of white panties. They’re grannies, but I don’t really care right now.

“Well, I hope…” I feel strange, and talking becomes a chore. The room spins, so Angela and Kate help me onto the bed. I lie there feeling everything spin for what feels like hours, and then I start to itch. Where I'm itching makes me smile.

It’s all I can do not to scratch my chest in a most unladylike manner. Everything begins to shift under the clothing they provided. The discomfort grows a bit as I wait. It's almost unbearable in the moments before it fades away completely.

I get up and look at myself in the mirror. No, it’s not perfect. I’m still me…but a more feminine looking me. The little stubble I’d grown since last night is gone. The hairs on my arms and legs had fallen out as well and come back in very fine. The hair on my head is another matter. It had only grown about four inches, but it was blonde. I hadn’t been blond since I was in grade school. I smile at that.

“Mom…” I begin, and notice my voice is higher. Not a lot, but enough. It now sounds…furry. That’s all I can really describe it as. It sort of sounds sexy.

“Mom, I think I’ll need to shave before we go out.”

She looks at my face and frowns.

“I don’t see…”

I pull up the leg of my sweats, and she blushes.

“Oh, I completely forgot about that, Cray.”

“Please call me Liadan, Mom. At least for the two days I get to look like this.”

“Use my bathroom while I distract your father. And I should have a bra that will fit you well enough until we can get you one of your own. You’re sort of poking out.”

I look down and blush. My nipples are clearly visible through the fleece fabric of the hoodie.

“I don’t think any of us thought it would work so well,” Mom says.

“I knew it would,” Kate replies.

Angela just laughs as she leads me off to the bathroom.

“What are you..?” I begin to ask.

“Checking out the new bod,” she says.

“But…”

“We’re both girls now. And I’ve seen you naked.”

I strip down and am disappointed to find I still have a penis. There had to be a catch somewhere, I think. Angela is looking at the thing critically.

“I think it’s a little smaller,” she says.

“What?” I say and look into the mirror wall next to the tub. I’ve looked at myself often enough to know what I look like down there. I have often wanted for it to just shrink away and disappear. It's definitely smaller, and a small rush floods me. I smile at Angela and hug her.

“Watch where you throw those things,” she says rubbing her nose.

I giggle and blush at the same time. Apparently I gave her a face full of boob without even thinking about it.

It’s embarrassing, even if we do, mostly, look like girls. Well, Angela looks completely like a girl. I just mostly look like a girl now. I can’t help smiling as I think about it. Angela gives me pointers on how best to shave my legs. I get a couple of nicks and cuts, but when I’m done I have smooth legs.

Angela helps me moisturize, and when I’m done my legs are so smooth. I’m about to get dressed when my mom comes in.

“Good, you didn’t wash your hair.”

“Mom!” I say, trying to cover up.

“I changed your diaper, girl. You have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I blush and she and Angela just laugh.

“I see you didn’t wash your hair. Good. Angela, you want to use this, or do you want me to do it?”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Angela begins to smile, and I’m even more mystified. Mom has a plastic tube in her hands.

“I’ll do it,” Angela says.

Mom hands Angela a pair of nano-control gloves which she puts on. “Sit, Liadan.”

I do, still mystified. She spreads the goop from the vial on my hair and I begin to realize what exactly is going on. With these limited-use nano-machines you can get a professional dye job at home.

We leave them in for almost thirty minutes and then Angela carefully brushes them back into the vial. As soon as my hair is free, I step into the shower and use the ‘Clean to make any remaining nano-machines inert.

When I’m done, I finally do what I’ve been avoiding since they first put in the dye. I look at myself in the mirror again.

I’m still overweight, but my weight has definitely shifted into more feminine areas. My hair is now blonde and fits well with my naturally light blue eyes. “My butt is huge,” I say in wonder.

My mom and Angela laugh. After smiling happily again at them, I get dressed again. The Bra is a little uncomfortable. Everything else fits a little differently. I realize for the first time how much energy must have been burned to make the change. The hoodie isn’t as tight. I’d think that it would have been tighter, as more was moved up top, but it’s almost, but not quite, loose. Definitely looser. That makes my smile electric. I’ve lost weight.

I’ve been afraid to try any of the weight-loss options on the market because I’m afraid it will make my bad eating habits worse.

Even so, I love that I’ve lost some weight, and I step onto the scale to verify. My smile splits my face. I’ve lost twenty pounds in two hours. Sure, I’m still three-hundred pounds, but it’s less than I weighed before.

We head out of the room and pile into the car. Kate and my mom will have final fittings today, as will my female cousins. I’ll be getting a first fitting. If it weren’t for the money that my family had put into Sandy’s Boutique over the years, I doubt that Sandy would be willing to do this for us.

First we head to the mall. The styles and sizes are almost confusing. We measure me, and then begin to try out any of the bras that fit. 48DD. Yes, I’m huge. But the bra is beautiful, and I begin to feel beautiful when I put it on.

We’re about to leave when Angela pulls me off to another part of the store. There are panties here. She hands me a pair in pink with a little lace that match the bra. Now I really do feel beautiful. The panties cup my ample bottom.

We head back out to the car after paying, and I wear my new underwear out. The sun seems to be shining a bit brighter now, or maybe it is just that I am really looking around at my world.

While we drive, Kate and Angela play with my hair and I just luxuriate in it. They’re doing some type of plaited pile on top of my head and I wonder what it will look like when it’s done. I don’t have an opportunity to check as they’re still finishing up as we get out of the car and head into the shop.

“Ladies, welcome, welcome I have your dresses over here. And who is this amazon?”

“Sandy, you goof. It’s me,” I say to the man. I haven’t been into Sandy’s for a few years. It wasn’t even his when I went in last time. He was still working for someone else. Last time I was in here was to help Kate get fitted for her own wedding dress. She has a ten-year-old son now.

“Cray..?”

“Liadan if you please,” Angela says.

“Well, might I say that everything fits now,” Sandy says with a smile. “When you came in the first time I was wondering a bit why you weren’t getting fitted for a dress. It might have taken seventeen years, but here you are.”

I blush furiously, and mom does as well. Apparently I don’t keep it as secret as I’d hoped.

“So, I assume that we’ve got to make one of those peach monstrosities for you?” he asks.

“Peach..?”

“I just have to show you,” he says. He hands a couple of dress bags to my mother and sister, and they go into the back to get changed.

“And who is this young lady?” he asks turning to Angela. She blushes herself at the compliment as I’m sure that she doesn’t think that thirty-three is young.

“This is Angela, my neighbor.”

“Oh, are you two…” Sandy begins and both of us shake our heads.

“No, I’m into guys,” Angela blurts out.

Sandy gets a thoughtful look on his face, and then smiles at Angela. Angela shyly smiles back.

“Sandy, just ask her out.”

The both gawp at me. “Angela is currently single. Her boyfriend dumped her a couple of months ago,” I turn and address Angela, “Sandy isn’t gay, even though most girls assume so.”

They both laugh a bit at my statement, but any further banter is halted by the return of Kate and our mom.

Sandy’s right. These dresses are…silly. They have yards of cloth, and are gauzy and airy. They’re made for a much smaller woman than either my mom or sister. Almost as if they were designed for pixies or something. I’m so not looking forward to seeing myself in one of them.

Sandy checks the fit and then turns to me. He directs me to strip down to my underwear, and I do. I feel really self conscious about it, but he’s nice, and professional. I suddenly get why people think he’s gay. I’ve never known a guy who was so able to control is actions, and knowing him like I do, it’s even more impressive.

He was one of my best friends in high school. I blush thinking of some of the fantasies I’d had about him in the past. I quickly smash down those thoughts because I’m hooking Angela up with him. And I’m not really a girl.

He gets my measurements and then measures Angela while I'm getting dressed. He's just as professional with her as he was with me. When he finishes, and she dresses again, we head out. I assume we’re heading home, but we find ourselves at a store I’d never seen before: Dahle’s.

I walk inside with my mother, and realize where I am and almost panic.

“Mom, I shouldn’t…”

“Liadan. Every woman needs more than one dress. And even if you only end up being a woman for a couple of days, you need this. I know your dad thinks this is temporary, but I’ve seen something today that tells me that we need to make this work, and likely on a more permanent basis. You never smile anymore...except you've been smiling a lot today.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m almost in tears as my mom, sister and girlfriend lead me into the racks. It doesn’t take me long to lose my self-consciousness in the fabrics and styles of the store. Everything there is designed with the ‘larger’ woman in mind. Mom is a little big, but I never considered the difficulty that she’d have purchasing clothing from a more mainstream store.

We end up finding a light dress that flatters my form. It has a sheath underneath a light gauzy surface. The material of the over dress seems to peek at my full-bodied form that the dress underneath hugs.

I feel extremely sexy in it.

We purchase the dress and I wear it out of the store. We head over to another store.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“Well, Liadan, we can’t really go for a girl’s night out with your hair like that, can we? We need to get it styled a bit, and after that, we can have some fun,” my mom says with a sparkle in her eyes.

I look up at the sign above the door that reads Locks Nessie as we go inside. “Hello, Hannah,” the woman there greets my mother.

“Hello, Nessie,” my mom says with a smile, “We need to get Liadan here the works.”

“Let her hair down so we can get a look at it.”

They pull out the pins and allow it to fall free. She walks around me a little bit and she sniffs a couple of times to herself.

“I’m going to have to take off about ten inches. She has split ends all through it. The dye job is adequate, if a little amateur. Hiding gray I assume? Makeup, necessary. Nails…well, they are short. Extensions?” my mother nods, “okay then. Pedi too I imagine.”

She bustles me off to a chair and went to work. Even with her out at the ends of my hair, I feel so relaxed there listening to her cut and trim. I’m in a real hair salon, and she’s really styling my hair. I must have fallen asleep I was so relaxed as I’m startled awake by a sharp pain in my ear.

“Ow.”

“One more and we’re done. Your mother picked out a couple of heart shaped studs for you to wear.”

Another quick jab, and I can feel the rapidly warming metal sitting in my ears. The feeling quickly fades to the background as she turns me to face the mirror. I’m not gorgeous. I don’t think I’m even pretty. I’m definitely a woman, though. I smile at Nessie through my tears and hug her. My hair weighs so much less than it did, but I don’t mind. It's a feminine hairstyle, and it still goes half the way down my back.

We go out to eat and check out the guys in the restaurant. I’m a little shocked at first with my mother and sister, as they’re happily married women, until my mother explains it to me.

“Just because we’re married, doesn’t mean we can’t look, and besides, we’re mostly looking for you and Angela. A girl can’t ever get enough help finding the right guy.”

I relax into it, and realize that we spend at least as much time talking about what the guys seem to be like as how they look.

All too soon the night is over and I head home with Angela and we part ways. I hang the dress in the closet, put my earrings on the nightstand and slip out of my panties and bra. As gravity again pulls on my breasts, I feel sorry about losing them. I carefully clean my new underwear in the sink and hang them up to dry.

When I wake up, I’ll be Cray again, but for at least a few moments more I’m Liadan, and I cry with the weight of the loss. Today has been the best day of my life, and the only thing that keeps me moving forward is the thought that I’ll get to do it again next Saturday.

Before I fall asleep I turn off my 'minder.