Here's a light-hearted bit of fluff I came up with the other day. Descriptions have deliberately been kept vague, both to keep it nice and short (so I had more chance of finishing it, rather than leaving it abandoned!) and to allow your imaginations to fill in the gaps.

10am

To the strains of Jeremiah Clarke's Trumpet Voluntary, the bridal party make their way down the aisle of the church. The service proceeds, vows are exchanged, registers are signed and the bridal party recedes to the strains of Beethoven's Ode to Joy before the obligatory photographs outside. To an outside observer, there was nothing untoward or unusual about this ceremony.

12pm

After a quick snack, the bride and groom retire to the bridal suite. They carefully start disrobing, but a fly-on-the-wall would start noticing some oddities: After removing his outer clothing and carefully placing it on the bed, he pulls up a compression vest, revealing a perky set of silicon breasts, adhered to his chest a few nights before. He then tugs at his close-cropped brown hair, removing it and a wig cap to reveal a mane of platinum blonde hair. Removing the pins securing it in place, he shakes it out and runs his fingers through it, revealing it to be of similar length and style to his wife.

Across the room, his new wife gathers up her hair, pins it into place, applies the wig cap and wig, then removes her pendant earrings, placing them on the dressing table, next to the necklace she'd removed earlier. She then removes her bra, playfully tossing it at her husband who catches it with a broad grin and fastens it around his false mammaries. Both then move to opposite sides of the bed to remove their lower underwear, a decision made in advance to minimise temptation and overrun their rides to the next destination.

From the bedside cupboard on the wife's side of the bed, she retrieves a pair of boxer shorts; while her husband retrieves a padded panty, grateful that the layout of the padding allows him to get away with a light tuck. While she starts getting dressed in his suit, he puts on her suspender belt and carefully rolls her suspender stockings up his legs, clipping them into place. With a sigh, he then reaches for the one garment he's not looking forward to wearing - the torture device, also known as a corset - a necessary evil to constrict his waist enough to fit into The Dress. Whlie he's previously worn corsets, he knows that on this occasion, it has to be tightened more than he'd ideally like. But, as his wife has often quipped - no pain, no gain - and he knows he'll soon get used to it, after all both attended the fitting to ensure it was designed such that it would look good on both of them - as long as he was imprisoned in the dreaded undergarment first. After strapping it loosely around himself, he walked over to the en-suite door and awaited his wife.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be!"

"Breathe in!"

"Yes - I know the drill," he sighed.

"Don't be such a wuss - you know you'll look good in it, and you've told me before you'll soon get used to it!"

"I know, I know - just get on with it. Let the torture begin!"

"As you wish!" then leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek before starting the tightening of the laces.

Eventually, after several more light-hearted complaints ("The lady doth protest too much, methinks!"), the corset was sufficiently tightened, and he was rewarded with a brief hug and peck on the cheek, before she helped him into the voluminous dress.

After tossing a coin to determine the order, she sat at the dressing table first and applied a radically different style of makeup to her everyday wear, making her look more masculine and with a hint of five o'clock shadow; before swapping with her husband, who then deftly applied full bridal makeup, before his wife came over, stated "Not bad..." and titivated it slightly.

She then fitted her men's shoes before fitting white, heeled pumps to his feet - each pair of shoes belonging to them, as while they were similar enough in most dimensions to share clothes (in his case, sometimes with a little foundational help), they did have different shoe sizes.

Finally, after checking each other out, both in person and in the wardrobe mirror, it was time to head downstairs and await their separate lifts to the next destination.

2pm

A few miles away, in a different church, in a different religious and legal jurisdiction, the second ceremony of the day got underway - this time, processing in to the strains of Wagner's Bridal Chorus and recessing to the strains of Mendelssohn's Bridal March. If the outsider from before had compiled a head count of those entering and leaving, they would have noticed the same head count as before, something subtly different about the appearance of the happy couple, and a slightly different gender ratio to before - with a slight bias towards the apparent female contingent of the congregation.

The observer would have been more surprised after the first round of photographs, when the groom disappeared into the church followed by one of the bridesmaids, only to reappear a few minutes later sporting sudden new developments in chest size, hair length and hair colour - a closer examination may have revealed that "he" had also changed shirts, to one that was more appropriately shaped for "his" "new" chest.

6pm

Back at the hotel, and the proverbial outside observer would have been even more surprised to see the arrival of two stunning blondes in white, knee-length, sleeveless cocktail dresses with plunging necklines. Only a close examination would have revealed one was a fraction taller than the other, with slightly thicker limbs and slightly longer feet, possibly indicating them as a natal male rather than a sibling of the other woman.

2am

After a slap-up meal, plenty of chat, dancing and booze, interspersed with a buffet supper as the night wore on, the reception finally wound down and the happy, unconventional couple, retired upstairs.

"I'm knackered!"

"So am I - I've never had as much fun!"

"Would you do it again?"

"No way! We already know both sides of each other, so there's no chance of either of us doing a Lohengrin. Besides which, in you I've got a muse, friend, companion, lover and wife."

"And in you I've also got a best friend, companion, lesbian lover, straight lover and husband. But if we went back to the past, would you have done anything differently?"

He thought a while. "No - heck, you not only indulged my passion for cross-dressing, but your suggestions helped it go above and beyond! Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of us each having both a hen do and stag do!"

"Yeah, well, I thought why should you be the only one to have fun with the supposed gender divide?! I've never had as much fun either, and kudos to your friends for treating me as just 'one of the guys'."

"Well, we've been hopping into each other's clothes so long, everyone's got over any stereotypes they may once have had. I wouldn't be surprised if they've all set up betting pools on which (if any) of us will be in skirts and which (if any) of us will be in trousers when we turn up!"

"Although, you do seem to have developed a particular fondness for skirts - it sometimes seems as though almost any time you're not needed at work or with the lads, you're in skirts or dresses."

"Yeah, well, they're fun - and since you convinced me to grow my hair, pretending we're sisters, cousins even literal 'kissing cousins' is so wild! Oh, don't worry - I have no plans whatsoever to get rid of Mr. Happy!"

"Glad to hear!"

"Bed?"

"Bed! Although I wouldn't mind some action from Mr. Happy..."

"I might just be able to stay awake long enough to let him out to play..."

"Good!" as she leaned over to give him a quick kiss before playfully wiggling towards the bed with an exaggerated wiggle.

Shaking his head, he proceeded to copy her, with a slight pause to pick up the packet of makeup cleansing wipes from the dresser, prompting a giggle from her.

Finally, faces sufficiently cleansed and all clothing discarded, they snuggled beneath the sheets, to play and sleep the remainder of the night away.

If any of you feel sufficiently inspired, feel free to write a longer treatment or even incorporate it into a wider story - just include a based on / inspired by attribution and let me know when you publish, so I can read and kudo it :)