Fateful Kiss Pt. 04

We spent much of the weekend preparing the wedding. Choosing a rough date and looking for a venue, deciding on decoration and guest lists, etc. We knew the plans would have to be refined, but we had a rough idea of how to organise everything by Sunday evening.

I could see that something weighed on Allison's mind, though. So, I asked her:

"You seem preoccupied. Is everything alright? Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, not at all," she reassured me, before continuing: "it's just. It's just that... well, it's the dress. I've always wanted to marry in a wedding gown, but you're going to want to wear the dress. After all, you swore off masculine attire altogether."

I could see that she felt silly to be bothered by the issue, but also that it was of significant import to her. And I could understand why. I'd only been a woman for a couple of years, and I, too, deeply wanted to wear a gown on my wedding!

"Is that it? Honey, if it's that important to you, I'll wear a suit on the day. That being said, I have a better idea: screw tradition! We can both wear dresses! Who's going to stop us?"

Her face lit up. She'd been so absorbed in this conundrum that she seemingly hadn't considered this possibility. That issue addressed, we went for an early night.

At lunchtime on Monday, I again found myself seated with the girls. Allison had mysteriously run off on an errand. Mary wasted no time querying me about my new ring and, moments later, the girls were offering congratulations, followed by a barrage of questions about Friday evening and about the ceremony. After almost a full hour of feeding their curiosity, I was exhausted and happy to be back in my office. They meant well, of course, and they were clearly happy for us, but their combined enthusiasm was overwhelming.

I was barely back in my office that Allison followed me in. She handed me a bag, as she had done at the beginning of this wonderful adventure. This one was rather small, however, and contained no clothes, but a rather more risqué gift: a buttplug, with a vibration function offered in four different speed settings. The purpose of her errand instantly became clear: she wanted me to wear it this afternoon. This particular model came with a remote, which she obviously grabbed for herself. I wordlessly went to the toilets and came back with the item in place. Allison wasted no time testing the remote, giggling at my gasp the moment the plug activated. "That was speed 1." For the rest of the day, I was in her hands, a prospect I relished.

For the next two hours, she activated the plug rather sparingly, appearing to test the different speeds (a quick burst at speed four had made me jump in my chair, but thankfully no one saw it) and the range of the remote. We established she could even turn it on from her own office.

At 3 PM, we both had to attend a meeting, with an attendance of 14 people from different parts of the company, representing our department alongside James. It fell upon me to demonstrate our latest work, and my presentation was well-polished. I had also carefully selected my outfit to project an image of professionalism and confidence: plain red satin blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, with black pantyhose, black stilettos and a fitted black jacket. This well-crafted image was shattered instantly by my mischievous fiancée, however, as I felt my anal occupant stir to life mere moments after the start of my presentation. I did all I could to retain my composure, but I had been taken by surprise, and it had evidently shown. I kept delivering my presentation, rather more shakily than I had planned, as Allison smirked at me and progressively increased the vibrator's speed. Had it still been possible, my penis would've been trying to bore a hole through the front of my skirt. The hormones and my extensive experience with tucking spared me that humiliation and I got through the presentation more or less successfully.

After the meeting, as everyone had cleared the room, my future wife came up to me to apologise for her prank. Her words were quickly cut short when my lips met hers and my tongue entered her mouth. She felt she'd gone too far, but I was not angry in the slightest. Sure, my presentation had been negatively affected, but so what? It wouldn't have major consequences. Maybe James would berate me a bit tomorrow, but that's it. No, I was not angry. What I was, was extremely horny, and she'd have to take responsibility for the state she'd put me in. We rushed home, both of us undressing on the way to the bedroom wherein she immediately started worshipping my breasts as the buttplug vibrated at full speed in my rear passage. This went on for quite a while, then we got into a 69 position. She pulled the plug out of me, replacing it with a long glass dildo that she enthusiastically pumped in me as I devoured her honeypot. After bringing each other to orgasm, we collapsed on the bed. As we'd already undressed, we opted to spend the rest of the evening in nightwear. Cooking together while wearing nothing but matching short purple silk nighties proved an arousing experience, and soon enough hands were furtively brushing nipples, groins bumping backsides and my fingers "accidentally" tracing her labia. We rushed through the meal and were back in bed for round two in the blink of an eye.

Afterwards, I brought up my desire for facial feminisation surgery. Sure, the hormones, the makeup experience I had acquired the past two years and my now long, wavy hair had all softened the masculinity of my face, but I was still not satisfied. The discussion was rather short: she had no objections, and we could afford the cost.

The procedures were painful and the recovery long, but the results were undeniable: strangers were no longer occasionally referring to me in the masculine nor inquisitively scanning my face to ascertain whether I "truly" was a woman. In short, I was now perceived as a woman, albeit a very tall one. The surgeons had done great work. In fact, they'd managed to make me look rather pretty. Not as pretty as Allison, but pretty nonetheless. It took everyone a while to get used to my new face, not the least Allison and I. We both liked it, of course, but it was unsettling for both of us for a while.

Allison had fallen in love with a man, and gradually that man had become less and less masculine, as she slowly came to terms with being a lesbian. We worked out that she had always been, unconsciously, and that's why she'd wanted to put me in women's clothes before dating me.

On my part, I gradually had to come to terms with being a woman, and seeing a woman's face in the mirror forced me to confront the fact that not so long ago, I was living as a man and not giving it a second thought. Of course, I, too, was unconscious of my true nature. I might not have been questioning my gender, but I was a rather awkward man, and we each step on the road to womanhood, I had grown more confident and more serene.

Once we both understood this, any discomfort we had with my new face dissipated and we could now concentrate on planning the wedding.

I was once more struck by Allison's beauty as she walked towards us in her shimmering dress. She turned her head slightly to shine a mischievous smile my way as she took her place beside me. The meaning of that knowing smile was twofold: first, the notion that we would both be disappointing the groomsmen that were currently ogling us and second, a secret even unknown to Anna and Mary, the other bridesmaids, and the reason for her late joining of the wedding party: she had just inserted my gift in her anus. She knew what to expect, she knew I'd take revenge for her sabotage of my departmental presentation, but being a good sport she still went along with it. She didn't have to wait long, as my hand surreptitiously slipped into my bag to find a remote, pressing the first button of four. I knew from experience that, at this lowest level, the stimulation was manageable and the noise of the vibrator imperceptible, but my mercy had limits: as my hand exited my pocket, I had decided it would not return for the duration of the ceremony. Allison would have to bear the vibrator the whole time.

Meanwhile, the groomsmen were still ogling us, each of them hoping to score with the one of us standing in matching position in the line. The long slits on the left side of our floor-length charmeuse dresses attracted particular attention to Allison's perfect legs, and their cowl necks to my big breasts. In times like these, I still felt strange. After living as a man for so long, being a bridesmaid felt surreal. Of course, that life had been a lie, and I was overjoyed that Olivia had chosen me as one of her bridesmaids, but a decades-old mindset takes a long time to fully overcome.

The music brought me out of my introspection, announcing Olivia's arrival. Her future husband, Liam, stood up straight as we turned to face her. The bride glowed, the groom grinned, the ceremony proceeded without incident. As we walked out, Allison begged me to turn off the vibrator. I did, but fully intended to revisit the topic in the evening.

The meal was scrumptious, the conversations pleasant. Our masculine counterparts had been visibly dismayed to find out we were lesbians, but cheered up after we granted them the traditional dance. We were barely back to our seats that my fiancée invited me for a dance. I acquiesced, but not without first reaching for the remote in my bag, and hitting the highest setting. She grimaced, but regained composure as we embraced in a slow dance. "You owe me", she whispered. I kissed her in response. We waited a few minutes to be certain no eyes were upon us anymore, then absconded to our car. She wasted no time to lie on the backseat, and I wasted none to lift her dress and remove her panties. As the vibrator laboured vigorously in her back passage, my tongue went to town on her front one, swiftly allowing her to release her delicious juices. As her pent up orgasm filled my mouth, her moans resounded loudly, neither of us particularly caring whether they'd been heard by other attendees. After a few moments, she reached for her discarded panties and handed them to me with a word: "swap"? I hastily agreed, and we went back to the party, wearing each other's underwear, wherein I retrieved my bag and turned the vibrator off. The rest of the evening was quiet, until we made our way back home. Allison instructed me to stand on all fours on our bed and lift my dress over my arse. Her intentions were clear, and indeed, she quickly donned her strap-on dildo, lowered her panties from my arse and penetrated me vigorously. After the evening we'd had, it didn't take long for me to reach my breaking point, and we both collapsed on the bed.

Attending Olivia's wedding had reinvigorated our desire to get married ourselves, but I had decided there was still something to do before we exchanged vows, the long-awaited culmination of my journey into womanhood. I wanted to marry Allison as a full woman, rid of the last vestige of my long discarded masculinity and instead adorned with a nice pussy of my own. We had waited a long time, but the date of my sexual reassignment surgery was at last on the horizon, our anticipation growing with each passing day. Unexpectedly, I experience no nervousness, not even a hint of cold feet in the days and moments preceding the surgery. I craved it with all my being. It was therefore in a state of pure joy that I was driven to the hospital by Allison, that I lost consciousness to the anesthetic and that I regained it to the surgeon informing me of the success of the operation, my future wife beaming beside him. Of course, the recovery period had its challenges and frustrations, but the mere thought that I now had a pussy rendered them all trivial.

After I'd recovered from the surgery, the temptation to involve my new genitalia in bed was great, but I had resolved to retain that virginity of sorts for the wedding night.

The day of the wedding finally came. The anticipation had been hard to bear, this day just could not come soon enough.

My bridesmaids, comprised of course of Anna, Olivia and Mary, had helped me picked out my dress, and what a dress it was! My impatience to wear it had almost been as high as my impatience to marry Allison. Shining in pure white radiance, its floor-length ballgown skirt surrounded my legs in exquisitely arranged layers of lustrous satin, its no less lustrous bodice, tightened at the waist by criss-crossed laces, embraced my chest as its bateau neckline revealed hints of my claviculae, ending in long sleeves that widened at the elbow into a large flower shape. I had not opted for a train. My neck was adorned in a string of small white pearls. Allison and I had decided to forego veils.

Beneath my dress, I wore a full set of white silk lingerie: my bra was full, my stockings shimmered, my garter belt was bordered in white lace and my panties presented with a big bow covering the front. Opening the bow would cause my panties to drop to the ground instantly, revealing the gift imprisoned therein.

It is in that most wonderful of garments that I am now waiting at the altar (I had not wanted to rob Allison of the traditional bridal entrance), my bridesmaids at my side. The eyes of the crowd, undoubtedly fixated on me, do not faze me in the slightest. I am too happy to be anxious. Eventually, Mendelssohn's wedding march echoes the room and a vision of sublime majesty manifests at the entrance: my bride-to-be, in her backless, low-cut ivory A-line dress, casting an image of divine beauty.

Slowly, elegantly, she approaches, escorted by her father, until she stands beside me. Whilst her entrance will always be etched in my mind, the rest of the ceremony goes like a blur. Our eyes lock, only separating when absolutely necessary, such as to grasp the presented ring and put it on the other's finger. I speak my vows, voice trembling occasionally in my captivated state, despite having repeated them in front of the mirror time and time again. She, in turn, presents hers, in what seem to me a much more assured manner. I drink every word, effortlessly memorising them.

The kiss finally comes. More intense than any we'd shared before, despite its rather chaste nature. I cannot help but reminisce the kiss that started it all. At the time, it had been an awkward affair, a shameful and ill-conceived impulsive act. Yet, in this moment, I look back fondly on that fateful kiss.