The Wedding Night

The Wedding Night

A Short Story

By Maryanne Peters

She abandoned me, but I would still do anything for her. It sounds so pathetic, but that is the way I felt. On her wedding day I knew that there was no chance of winning her back. That was the day she married Jason - the guy she dropped me for. My friend Jason. Up until that day I still nursed some forlorn hope that she would see what I was prepared to sacrifice for her and love me for it. Even if she married him, she might still love me, in some lesser way. Maybe that would be enough. It does not just sound pathetic. It is pathetic.

Jason was the opposite of me. He was the boisterous one -- the more manly. There is no doubt of that. His view was that she only went out with me because she was sorry for me. He did not say it is a cruel way. He said it because friends should be honest. He said that it should never break us apart, and it never could. Even taking my girl has not broken our bond.

We talked about it and I now know that he was right: It was her choice, not his. He says that maybe if she had not already told him that it was over with me, he would never would have gone out with her, and he would never would have fallen in love with her. But that is what it is, he says. It certainly seems that way.

He said that she wants a guy who will look after her. He said that is not who I am. I need somebody to look after me. The way he says it, I was like a stray puppy that she picked up and cuddled for a bit. It is like I was never really her boyfriend, so why should I feel jilted? I know that he is just trying to comfort me. He said that if I did not want to come to the wedding, he was OK with that.

"But you're not inviting me. She has asked me to be one of the official bridal party - on her side."

He said back: "No buddy. Her official party are three bridesmaids."

"That's right Jason. I am one of them."

Yes. Three bridesmaids, and Cheryl pulled out at the last minute. Some trip to Europe. She was not a true friend. I was. I told her that I would step in, and even wear the dress. That was what I was prepared to sacrifice for her -- my pride; my manhood. I wanted her to know it. Jason would never do that. Who loved her more? It had to be me.

"That is not right, Man," said Jason. Let me talk to her."

"No Jase. I want to do it. I want to be part of her team. I want her to know that even if she does not want me, I will be there for her, in any capacity she wants me," I told him.

"I can't believe that she is ready to humiliate you. I love her, but this is so not cool."

"She is arranging everything so I can participate to the full," I explained. "She yours now, but I want to be by her side. You can understand that, can't you."

"You have to let it go, Buddy. It cuts me up that you are carrying this torch for her, and it's burning you up. You have to move on."

I know Jason is still a friend. They say a true friend would never steal another's girl, but I know love is stronger than anything. I know that only too well. I smiled. I made light of it. I said: "I have heard that she is even arranging an escort for me. Some guy called Kurt."

"I know that guy," said Jason. "He is on the football team. Rich and smart too. But there is a rumor that he might be gay, or at least bi."

"Oh yeah?"

"He is actually a really nice guy. A bit like Sarah. Picks up strays and likes looking after them. Maybe Sarah is just trying to help you. Not that she has ever experienced, but I guess she understands that it sucks to be jilted."

I wondered how she could ever think that, arranging such a guy as my escort. I was not gay. This guy might be, but not me. I might have had a guy crush or two, but I was in love with a woman. I was in love with Sarah. I was, then.

Sarah was as good as her promise to me. She said: "You are a friend and you always will be. You and the other girls. All three of you will share my day with me because I want you there. And it starts now with the final fitting for the dresses, and then we are off to the salon for the works."

They all wore dresses low cut but for me there was a lacy yoke concealing my lack of a bosom. Still there were tight undergarments that seemed to find enough flesh on my upper body to create a cleavage with the assistance of gel filled bags. After the initial discomfort I relaxed into the underwear that I would be wearing all day, even peeing through a little hole between my legs, just like a girl.

"The works" at the salon started early. It was just as well. It would take my skin time to recover from the waxing and brow plucking, but we lay back swathed in face packs and moisturizers while our acrylic nails were painted.

"No wig for you, you need hair extensions," Sarah said. "Daddy is paying for everything." Her father never liked me. Why not put him to cost? Why not lie back and let it happen? And there was something about the joyous banter and giggling that made me feel at home. I decided that being a girl for a day would not be so bad, and I would be near her.

The hairdresser stick with my own natural hair color, just adding something to make it shine and lay softly around my shoulders. I had never worn my hair long before, but I liked the feeling of it. I flicked it away from my face playfully as I had seen a million girls do, and I felt pretty.

And with the dark eyeliner my blue eyes stood out, and I felt even more pretty. Sure, I still had a strong chin and nose, but my eyes looked beautiful. I would walk out not as a joke, but as a woman. From that moment I started to move my hands as if I was one, experimenting and posing for effect. And the girls were there to correct me.

I think that the other bridesmaids were surprised, but not Sarah. When were done, she just kissed me on the cheek and whispered: "Thank you for being here, Julia". And that was my name, from then on.

I discovered that I don't cry at weddings -- I just had a smile on the my face the whole way through. Sarah gave a speech and in it she thanked the bridesmaids: "And in particular Julia, who looks so beautiful today. It is a special day for her as well, today." I blew her a kiss.

"Julia?" It was my name, so I turned around and he was standing there. "I'm Kurt."

I am not sure what was going on in my head the first time I met him. I had been a bundle of emotions from the moment I woke up that day. There was the deep hurt of loss, later tempered by sharing the excitement of the bride's anticipation, combined with all the new experiences that I had opened my mind to. It was as if I had become another person, or even a ghost watching the living live their lives in front of me. So my reaction in that moment seemed other-worldly.

"Kurt!" I breathed the word as if it were an indecent suggestion. "You are my escort, I believe?"

"I had not expect you to be this beautiful." He took my hand like some fairy tale prince and kissed it. Did I blush? Whatever it was it was hot and not unpleasant.

He was bigger than me. Even in heels my nose could nuzzle his chin, strong and showing the early traces of whiskers coming through the morning's shave. It seemed as if masculinity exuded from his every pore. It made me feel positively girly.

"Let's join the bride and groom on the dancefloor," he said. He had such self-assuredness, that he did not even wait for my consent. He had me by the hand and then he had me in his arms and we were dancing, some slow semblance of a waltz.

My eyes scanned the dance floor, simply so that I did not have to look up. I suppose that I had guessed that if I looked into his eyes something would happen -- something that would change me. But I had to look up. I was drawn to do it. And he was looking down at me.

Can two strangers meet and fall in love? Do they need to be man and woman?

Let us call it an attraction. We were thrown together, and he was attracted to me. I had been warned that he might be. It seemed that he was, indeed, gay. That seemed the explanation. Maybe he liked men who dressed as women? But what could explain my feelings? Why was I attracted to him? The only explanation was that I had got so caught up in being a bridesmaid that I was not myself.

"Who are you?" he asked, almost as if he could read my mind. What he was really asking was 'What are you?' It was something I had no answer to.

"I am the bridesmaid," I said, with a coy smile. The voice that came out of my mouth was soft and feminine, and involuntary. It was just the way that this creature spoke.

"I was told that you were a guy, but I see that must be a lie," he said.

"It's a magical day," I said. "On Sarah's wedding day it seems as if anything is possible." Which is exactly how it did feel.

We danced and then we took a break and we sat and talked -- or rather he talked, and I listened. I am not even sure what he talked about. Himself, I think, as men do. I just listened to the sound of his voice as if that was all I ever wanted to hear. If there were other people who spoke to either of us that night, I never noticed.

And before either of us realized, the first guests had started to leave, and we were back on the dancefloor, we me draped over him and with our lips locked together.

And somehow there seemed to be nothing wrong with this... nothing at all. It was a magical day. I was not myself. Somebody else was inside me -- a fleeting feminine spirit momentarily in control. And she was loving this. She was loving being held by Kurt and being kissed by him.

"I have a room in this hotel," he said. "Upstairs, if you have no plans for this evening."

That seemed right too. What woman would want this night to end? No woman, but I was not that. And yet, I just smiled and took his hand. It seemed as if there was nobody left to wave goodbye to. We floated out of the room, through to the lobby and the elevator, down the corridor and into his room... and the door closed behind me.

It was like the Cinderella spell was broken and I was standing in rags beside a pumpkin.

"I can't Kurt. I mean, I am not able to." What did that mean? Not able to what? To be his? To let him make love to me?

"We can just lie together," he said. The look on his face was pleading me. Whatever I had to offer would be enough for him. He just wanted me. I realized that I just wanted him. But I could not help but notice the swelling in his pants. I had to reach out and confirm what it was.

"I am not sure that I can give you what you want," I said.

"Just share my bed tonight," he said.

"I probably need to take my dress off, but I will keep my underwear on. I could not bear the idea of him seeing my breasts on the floor and my ugly crotch on display. He helped me to get undressed. He undressed too, but kept his boxers on.

He lay down on the bed and I snuggled up next to him. It just seemed so perfect and yet so normal -- a man with a woman in his arms. His chest was hairy against my plucked face. A man and a woman. As I looked into his eyes, my hand just stroked down the line of hair on his belly until it reached his boxers and then under the fabric, his cock. I was red hot and as hard as steel.

"I have a hole in my panties," I said, sweetly.

"Thank God," he said. "I need to put this where it belongs!"

"I think we'll need lubrication," I said. "I am... inexperienced."

It was as if she was talking. I was about to have that experience -- something I never would have expected as a man I now craved with every cell of my woman-like body.

He found some hotel hand cream. I lay on my back and he found the hole in my panties that I had peed through earlier. The head of my penis poked through it just a little as if it were the head of my clitoris, which I suppose it was. He tickled it playfully, but what he really wanted was what lay beneath -- my man vagina. He squirted the cream into it and worked it with his finger.

"I am not sure that you're going to fit," I said.

"If you want me to then I am sure I will," he said.

"Yes, I want you Kurt," I panted. "More than anything else in the world."

And then he was inside me -- right up to the hilt. My body welcomed him. I opened for him, and stroke by stroke he made me his. And when he exploded inside me and I experienced my first true orgasm I knew that my life had changed for ever.

This was the wedding night. Not my wedding night -- that would follow over a year later after the surgery. But this was the wedding night when I learned everything that mattered.

I learned that my fascination with Sarah was not love. It was probably envy. Love is what Kurt and I have. I learned that Kurt was not gay. Kurt could only ever love a woman. I learned that I was a woman

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2024