Sunday

Mom and dad were merciful, they didn't disturb us until we were ready to get up. It's a good thing we had gotten used to sharing a bathroom, because it takes a while to get beautiful. We didn't go all out like the day before, Aida gave us a much simpler look for a casual day. I resolved to start learning how to do makeup magic if I had any intention of letting Lori out more often when this week was over.

The first thing that happened was we walked squarely into the path of the Mom Radar Probe. She took one look at us and said "Something important happened last night. What was it?"

Instantly I was seven years old with my hand stuck in the cookie jar because I wouldn't let go of the handful of cookies I had glommed on to. Apparently mothers can do that even when you're an adult.

"She proposed to me last night," smirked Aida.

"Wait a minute! I thought you already proposed to him?"

"That was a fake proposal. Last night was real."

"Lauren, did you really?"

"Lauren did, Lori did, I did. This time it's for real, Mom."

"Well congratulations, ¡Felicitaciones!, Mazel Tov, Complimenti and Συγχαρητήρια! May your love be as long as your life and full as your cup."

"Thank you, Mrs Cooke," answered Aida.

"None of this Mrs Cooke now that it's real. I'm Maya or even Mom if you're comfortable with it."

"I'd love to, Mom. The woman who birthed me never was really someone who I could call Mom. Your family is just what I always dreamed of having when I was growing up. You're all so real!"

"You're darling to say so. I can hardly wait for Andre to come back. He'll be so happy."

"Where's dad?" I asked.

"Off watching Lill's two for the morning. As if we could keep the doting grandpa away from them."

"And you didn't go with him?"

"I had my own child to dote on."

"I don't know, Aida. We might have to move back here for the free babysitting service."

"You aren't…" queried Mom."

"No, I'm not. Your husband can keep his shotgun in the gun safe."

"As is either of us feels the need for a gun. Penis substitutes for weak men, that's all they are."

"Shout it on the street corners, Mom!"

"After breakfast, Lori. You need your strength to challenge the patriarchy."

"Odd how I feel like challenging them lately."

"As well you should. Will it be a two bride ceremony?"

"We haven't gotten that far yet, Mom."

"I'm thinking a Pastafarian ceremony," grinned Aida. "I can be a pirate and Lori can be the bride."

"Now that idea has some charm," I said. "Think we can train a parrot to lift my train and then fly to your shoulder for the ceremony?"

"And I thought you two were crazy yesterday. It's spreading!"

"Do Pastafarians use garlic bread for communion? I kind of doubt they'd use those little bitty wine cups, either. More like beer mugs, I would think."

"Sure! We could have all the nieces and nephews with cute little colanders on their heads flinging orzo as they go down the aisle."

"Of course a choice of spaghetti or stuffed shells with meatballs for the reception. And maybe an antipasto served from a replica pirate galleon with the dressing squirting out of the cannons."

"I'm afraid the men with the butterfly nets would carry you off to Sunshine Acres before you could get too far with those plans."

"Then I guess we'll just have to settle for breakfast.

"Too late, it's lunch time."

Monday

I was up early for my appointment with the masters of disguise. Naturally they were on the other side of town and took close to an hour to get there. The building looked more like a warehouse than a place where magic was created.

Nonetheless, I ventured within and was amazed at what I found. My technician was named Mac. Seriously, he looked like a truck driver, or maybe a Mac truck, not someone who performs delicate transformations on real people. He reassured me that mine was a typical reaction, but I would be satisfied with the results.

So I removed my clothes, feeling like a fool and was measured in places I had never been measured before, defoliated, depilated cleaned, burnished and otherwise prepared for my transformation.

Mac carefully matched the color of my skin and started painting a pair of breast forms that looked so damn realistic I expected to see the blood oozing from the bottom of the things. They were far and away superior to the breast forms I had been using, and once they were attached they felt a bit lighter.

Mac got to work with something that wasn't quite makeup, wasn't quite glue, wasn't quite putty. Whatever it was, by the time he was done there was no way I could tell where my skin left off and the falsie started. Once I fastened on my bra - and I had brought one of the nice ones - I looked like I'd had boobs all of my life, and it had only taken a few hours.

We took time for lunch, then back to work. I was fitted with padding for my hips and butt. Nowhere near as realistic as the breasts, but I was not going to be showing anyone but Aida those enhancements. Likewise the gaff I was now sporting, which hid any trace of my former masculinity. Amazing how much better my panties fit with a more womanly ass. The pantyhose were less likely to slide down as well, something that had been giving my tubular body a few problems.

I had picked out one of Aida's form-fitting dresses to wear home and it looked good! Mac was beaming with pride by the time I left, and rightly so. If Aida's mother was able to clock me then just chuck me in the dustbin of history as a has-been.

Even knowing how much this whole thing had cost I was glad I did it. I felt like a woman, as close as any man could come short of surgery. Aida and I went out for a night on the town and we had a marvelous time. Since Mac had done nothing to alter my genitals, we had an even better time when we got home.

Weekday Follies

Cognitive dissonance - that's the term the shrinks use for having two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time. On the one hand I felt like Charlie Brown in his snowsuit because I was swathed in so much packing to enhance my figure. Then I looked in the mirror and saw a moderately good looking, well endowed woman. I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to actually look like this without all the padding.

I had agreed to this as a lark, but somehow it had almost become an obsession. I liked looking like this, I liked having people treat me as a woman. Strange thoughts, indeed.

I was really looking forward to spending the week as Lori, especially as Aida had taken the time off to be with me. The last thing I expected to be doing was looking at real estate, but that's what we did. Our agent didn't bat an eye at two women looking for an apartment or maybe even a house together. He certainly did bat an eye at our necklines, but that's only to be expected.

Being engaged for real, we realized that neither of our apartments was suitable for two people, so we needed a bigger place to settle in. That led to a serious discussion of finances, so we both knew just how much the other made as a wage slave. It added up to a comfortable total, neither of us were big spenders and we will be able to save enough to pool for a down payment. With any luck we could afford a washer and dryer and no longer meet at the Laundromat.

No, the ideal home didn't fall into our laps or anything like that. We had only been looking for a few days and the weekend was already full.

Friday

Friday morning, after having been out all week as Lori, I breezed into the special effects workshop in a very good mood. Mac just took one look at me and started to laugh.

"Someone's gone way beyond the 'having a fling as a female' stage and is living the dream."

"You know, Mac? You're right. I am very much afraid I won't want to go back come Monday."

"So you aspire to be a quick change artist?"

"Can you be a quick change artist if you don't want to change?"

"A profound question, my friend. There are ways to make the changes permanent if that's where you want to go."

"I know. Not the details, but anyone who has watched TV knows that there are plastic surgeons who can put tits on a bull."

"So they can, but it often takes hormones to make the hips and waist over, but that sort of gelds the bull, if you catch my drift."

"Not thinking that far ahead yet, Mac. One step at a time."

"And the next step is to check you out and see how your skin is tolerating the prosthetics. You felt any itching or pain?"

"Itching sure, but nothing like pain. The most frustrating thing is I can't feel it when my girlfriend grabs my bum."

"Just be glad she still wants to grab it, some girls take off when you go down this road."

"I suppose that it isn't for everyone."

"In the long run, implants will cost you less and feel much better. Enough chit-chat. Strip off, lady."

A couple of hours later I was reassembled and tuned up for the weekend. I felt like a million bucks, even if it was only quite a few hundreds.

The Salon Redux

Saturday morning again saw us up and moving. We had a salon appointment at ten o'clock, obviously one could not attend a Formal Anniversary Bash without one's hair being properly coiffed. So for the second time in a week I was painted, permed and primped. I could get used to this very easily. We were done in time to have a light lunch and still be at the party when it started at 2PM.

Having decided to rub our engaged status in the faces of her parents, we had our hair done in identical styles and our nails painted in identical hues. We wore identical jewelry as well. In our travels during the week we had found virtually identical dresses, one embroidered in pale rose and the other in pale blue. Nobody but us would realize the secondary meaning of that color scheme.

Naturally we wore identical three inch open toed pumps, which I was almost comfortable walking in without falling. At least they had chunky heels and not spikes, the soirée being outdoors on the lawn.

The Grand Estate

It's funny how you can get an idea in your head that just doesn't match reality. Aida had told me about her parent's place in the woods, emphasizing their bad taste, their pretensions and its isolation. Somehow, in my mind, I had placed it far, far away from where we were. This impression was aided by our packing a bag for an overnight stay. If you have to pack a bag you must be going on a long trip, right?

Nope, in fact it was a mere twenty minutes from her studio apartment. Aida slowed the car and turned on to a side road with a massive iron gate across it. Not just any ordinary gate, but one with curlicues and do-dads and angels blowing horns and cherubs flocking about as the doors majestically folded back.

"Angels?" I inquired.

"Mother was in her Born Again period when she commissioned it. It was a breach birth and only lasted about nine months, which is singularly appropriate."

The road meandered through a woodlot and suddenly opened on to a wide expanse of lawn. There was nothing Aida could have done to prepare me for the place.

Start with your generic McMansion, you can see hundreds of examples in the gated communities that infest the landscape around many cities. You know, those gigantic places covered in gray plastic siding and sporting random arched windows, Roman columns and glassed-in sun-rooms. Attach an industrial air compressor and inflate until it is about to burst and you have an idea of the main house.

But wait, there's more! Like the Barons and Earls of old, her parents had succumbed to the urge to tack on an addition to the old family homestead. Unlike the Barons and Earls of old, they had modern building materials to exploit. The addition was a glass-and-metal extravaganza of points and spikes that made me think of a tesseract gone mad unfolding, sprawling across the landscape. Through the glass I could see a gallery of modern art that was a perfect match to the architecture.

Talk about shock and awe. "You grew up in that place?" I asked wonderingly.

"The grotesque aquarium came along after I left, thank the lord for small favors."

"The thought of raising children in a place like this is enough to inspire me to celibacy."

"Perish the thought, darling. I have plans for you tonight."

"I hope the decorators they hired had more sense than the architects."

"Just close your eyes and think of England."

"I can get into the shutting my eyes part."

"Just so long as you get into me."

The conversation ended there as she clicked the clicker on her visor and one of a dozen garage doors opened. The garage door was attached to a massive garage in yet a third incompatible style, looking like an overgrown cowboy bunkhouse from the old west. There were desiccated cow skulls, pairs of horns and various iron implements decorating the building, just in case you didn't realize what it was patterned after.

Motion sensors turned on the lights and I saw half a dozen high-end cars. Not being a car freak I couldn't tell you what they were, but they were obviously expensive.

"We can take one of the show cars for a spin later if you need to get away. Maybe the convertible Caddy so we can cruise with long silk scarves trailing in the wind behind us."

"My hair, darling," I pouted. "It would simply devastate my hair."

"Spoilsport. Let's go get settled and you get to meet the parental units."

"Can I wave this pretty ring under your mother's nose?"

"Certainly, what do you think we're here for?"

"Do we let them catch us making out passionately on the couch?"

"Not a bad idea. Maybe we can leave our panties behind on the floor."

"You're bad!"

"Just taking after my fiancée's creative approach. Put on your fuck-me shoes and let's go."

Instead of heading to the front door she led me around back, where there was a gigantic tent and dozens of worker bees in white jackets putting the final touches on the party. A large woman in a very gaudy and very short dress was faced away from us, waving her arms and issuing instructions.

"That's my mother. Quick! Inside before she sees us."

I followed through a small door and we entered the house. It was a wide hallway with an improbably high ceiling leading to the kitchen on one side and a dining room on the other. The hallway debouched on to a grand foyer with high skylights and dueling staircases. At the foot of each staircase was a suit of armor, complete with sword and lance. Between the knights was - I kid you not - a six-foot tall velvet Elvis portrait.

"If I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it!" I marveled.

"Impressive, eh?" she deadpanned.

"That's one word for it."

At this point a man came from one of the several doors into the foyer and Aida ran over to him with a glad cry.

"Richards!"

He was enveloped in a enthusiastic hug. Dressed as formally as any butler in a Victorian melodrama, he looked uncomfortable to be greeted so enthusiastically in the presence of a stranger.

Aida didn't give a damn.

"Richards, meet my fiancée, Lori Cooke. You're going to love her as much as I do."

"I'm sure I will, Miss Aida. Welcome to Claridge Manor, Miss Cooke."

Claridge Manor? I wondered if the London hotel knew it's name had been used in vain.

"Thank you, Richards. Aida has told me how much you mean to her. I'm very glad to know she has a friend in the household."

"Quite, Madam. Let me bring your case to your room, Miss Aida. Shall I have Miss Cooke's luggage brought to her room as well?"

"Mother's at it again, isn't she? There is only one case and we need only one room. Mother and Father can content themselves with separate bedrooms, but Lori and I come as a set."

"So I notice. Quite a lovely set, if I may say so."

"You certainly may, old friend. I'm tempted to ask you to walk me down the aisle when we get married."

"I am flattered, Miss Aida, but I would not wish to cause any further dissension in the household."

"They're arguing again, I take it. Never known them to actually work together to make their anniversary party a success."

"It can be a challenge."

"How do you stand it, Richards? Why do you stay?"

"The job has its rewards as well as its challenges."

"I'm sorry, that was rather personal."

"Quite all right, Miss Aida. I know you asked out of concern for me, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're a gem, Richards. Please never change."

"I shall endeavor to do so, Miss Aida."
 

Richards conducted us to the Blue Room, where he left us to resume his duties. We unpacked, ostentatiously placed our matching nighties on our pillows and freshened our makeup. Looking out the window we could see the preparations were almost complete.

"Is that your father in the three piece suit at a picnic?"

"Right the first time. Part of the staging. He will shed the suit at the right moment to emphasize his common touch. Along about the forth or fifth beer he will be getting very common and start repeating the same boring story he told an hour or so before."

"How did I end up in love with such a cynic?"

"Good fortune, definitely good fortune. Now it's time to balance it with bad fortune - time to meet my parents."

"Lead on, my dear."
 

"Where have you been Aida? I was counting on your help," chided the large woman in the halter-top tent with rhinestones lining the plunging bodice.

"If you had bothered to inform me about it, I might have been able to put in my schedule, Mother. I have told you that I am still unable to read your mind. Meanwhile, let me introduce you to the woman I love. Lori Cooke, meet my mother, Lakeisha Gabriel."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Gabriel," I lied.

"Charmed," came the icicle-coated reply.

"We'll leave you to your work and introduce Lori to Father."

"Duty, honor, country!" I whispered to my love as we left her mother. That earned me a swat on my amply padded bottom, which was less than effective.

We found her father near the bar, holding a tumbler filled with dark liquid. I'm not much of a drinker, preferring a decent IPA, or lately some wine to go with the stereotype of the proper alcohol for a woman. I had no idea which flavor of whiskey he was consuming, Scotch, Rye, Bourbon, whatever, but one look at the rosy network overlaying his nose told me he consumed quite a lot of the stuff.

Again came the formal introduction. "Father, let me introduce you to the woman I love. Lori Cooke, meet my father Raymond Gabriel."

"Glad you could make it, my dear."

He actually sounded sincere.

"Thirty years with your mother, Aida. Hope you have better luck than we have."

"Father, we get the luck we deserve, and I don't intend to let my marriage depend on luck."

"Here here! Got to go and be the jovial host. Have a drink and join the party, my dears."