Mini Trial Pt. 2

The hours slip by faster than you expect. After the initial round of dress shopping, you follow Serena through the bridal section, trying to focus on the task at hand. She’s eagerly rifling through racks of satin and chiffon, looking for the perfect accessories for her wedding, and you, well, you’re stuck tagging along.

“This one, right?” Serena asks, holding up a dainty silver hairpin, its tiny pearls gleaming under the store lights. She angles it toward you with a hopeful grin.

You glance at the pin, then back at her. “Yeah, sure,” you say with an exaggerated smile, faking the enthusiasm as best as you can. “Looks perfect for the wedding.”

Serena’s smile brightens. “I knew you’d get it. You’re such a good bridesmaid!” She tosses the pin into her basket with a satisfied nod. You can’t help but feel a little less irritated. As much as you’re dreading all of this, at least Serena seems genuinely appreciative.

She continues picking through the selection, filling her basket with all kinds of bridal paraphernalia—hairpins, jewelry, a veil that she insists is “just to _complete _the look for the rehearsal dinner.” You’re trying to stay engaged, but it’s tough to ignore the fact that you’re drowning in _frills _and sparkles, things you’ve actively avoided your whole life.

You glance at the next rack, and there it is—a beautiful, delicate lace shawl that Serena instantly grabs and drapes over her shoulders. She holds it up to the mirror and twirls, the soft material catching the light, looking every bit the part of the excited bride-to-be.

“What do you think?” she asks, her voice all but vibrating with excitement as she looks at you expectantly.

You feel a tug in your chest, like you should be the one finding this stuff exciting. You want to be happy for her. After all, this is her big day.

You take a deep breath and raise your hand dramatically. “Amazing, it’s like... it was made for you.” The words slip out so easily that you can almost believe them yourself.

She beams at you, clearly thrilled by your “enthusiasm.” “I knew you’d get it! You’re the best bridesmaid ever.”

As she adds the shawl to her ever-growing pile of wedding accessories, your thoughts wander for a moment. You _did _technically promise to help her out, and you want to be a good sport. But the truth is, you’re not exactly overjoyed by all of this. You want to break free from the dresses, the lace, and, most of all, the feeling that everything you're doing is somehow becoming more and more feminine. You hate it, but you don’t let it show.

So, you try your best to keep it together and be a good friend. After all, you’re doing this for her. You can do this.

As you move on to the next section, Serena pulls a dress from the racks and hands it to you. “Try this on,” she urges. “I think it'll look adorable on you.” Her grin is almost too knowing, but you can’t bring yourself to say no.

You glance at the dress. It's a soft pastel pink with lace accents, the other a lilac satin with delicate ribbon straps. You mentally sigh—you’ve got to be kidding.

Still, Serena looks at you with such a hopeful gaze that you can’t bring yourself to decline. “Alright, alright,” you mutter. “I’ll try it on.”

You step into the fitting room and eye the dress. You don’t exactly want to try it on, but you can’t help but feel curious. You slip into the soft pink dress. It hugs your torso just right, the lace detailing hugging your chest, and the skirt flaring out in a way that’s surprisingly flattering. As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you can’t deny that it doesn’t look half-bad.

You step out of the fitting room, your nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You try to **** yourself to smile through the unease. “Well, what do you think?”

Serena’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s perfect! You look so good in that,” she exclaims, practically clapping her hands. “You could totally wear this to the wedding!”

You nod slowly, trying not to make it sound like a huge deal. “I guess it’s okay. Not too bad.”

“Not too bad?” Serena repeats incredulously. “It’s amazing! We definitely need to keep it in mind.”

You wince, but it’s almost imperceptible. You’re so close to being finished with all of this, and it’s hard to deny the feeling of rightness as you turn to look at yourself in the mirror once more. The dress does look good, maybe even great. But everything about it—the lace, the softness, the feminine nature of it—is hard to accept.

“Alright, alright,” you say, feigning enthusiasm again.

Serena gives you an excited grin and gives you another quick hug. “Yes! You’re seriously the best. I couldn’t have asked for a better bridesmaid!”

The compliment catches you off guard. You feel the warmth spread through you, an unexpected surge of pride. You _are _helping her. And maybe it’s not so bad after all.

But then the thought comes back again, like it always does. The urge. The need. It’s almost like a buzz under your skin, something in the back of your mind that demands attention. You bite your lip without realizing it, just a little, as the sensation of something soft and smooth presses against your chest. That subtle tug, the soft fabric against your skin. It feels... good.

You quickly shake it off, trying not to dwell on it. There’s no point in letting it distract you. But as you walk to the next section, Serena eagerly pulling you along, you realize the pressure is starting to build again—that pressure that you can’t seem to ignore.

“Now for the shoes,” Serena says, dragging you toward the next aisle.

You follow, trying not to let your thoughts spiral too much, your mind desperately trying to distract itself. But as you look at all the sparkly shoes in the aisle—flats, wedges, heels—you can’t help but notice the tiniest of shifts within you. Maybe, all this is not the worst thing in the world.

The shopping spree seemed endless, with each boutique offering more items, more decisions to make, more feminine choices. You couldn't help but notice how much Serena was enjoying herself, dragging you along with a joyful excitement that made you feel a strange pressure—like there was no escape from this sea of delicate fabrics and perfect fit.

You grumbled internally but kept your outward act together. It’s just the wedding, you reminded yourself. That’s all this was. You were doing this for Serena, for her big day. Nothing else.

Serena practically skipped between stores, picking up dresses, shoes, and accessories, her energy contagious. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you could almost feel the tension in your body ease as you followed her. It was like a magnet pulling you deeper into this world, and it terrified you how natural it felt to just... follow along.

You tried to keep your chin up, to remind yourself that it was all for Serena, but even that line of thinking felt thinner with every new piece of clothing she shoved in your direction.

“Here we go!” she chirped, holding up a delicate set of soft, blush-colored silk lingerie. “You have to try this on, just to make sure it fits under your dress,” she said, practically pushing it into your hands.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the soft satin fabric. “For the wedding?” you asked, incredulous.

Serena didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, of course! We’ll need something beautiful under your dress, in case you get naughty with one of my guests. And these are so soft,” she cooed, almost hypnotically. “You’ll love how it feels. I’m telling you, it’ll make you feel gorgeous.”

The idea of wearing lingerie felt completely out of place in the context of the wedding preparations, but you didn’t protest. It was just another step. Another favor.

You reluctantly disappeared into the changing room, fingers fumbling with the intricate lace of the set. The silky fabric slid against your skin like a whisper, and for a split second, you thought you might pull it off and walk out. But instead, you found yourself adjusting the delicate lace edges, ensuring everything sat just right. You hated how smooth it felt, hated how it seemed to fit you perfectly, the smooth material pressing against your skin, creating an unfamiliar sense of rightness.

When you finally stepped out, Serena was already watching, her eyes lighting up as she took in the lingerie. “Oh my god,” she sighed. “You look stunning in that. It’s perfect.”

Your heart raced as you shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You wanted to say something—something to make it stop, something to remind yourself of who you were—but the words didn’t come.

Instead, you took a step back, glancing down at the lace and satin against your body. You could feel it. The soft stretch of the material, the delicate nature of it, and how everything seemed to fit just a little bit better than before. You couldn’t stop your fingers from absently brushing over the lace, smoothing it out, adjusting it in a way that felt almost natural.

Serena noticed, of course, and she didn’t miss the way you fiddled with the lace. “See? It’s like it was made for you.”

You couldn’t find it in you to disagree. The idea of wearing bras and panties wasn't new to you, but something about the entire experience made you feel… soft.

“Thanks,” you muttered, hoping to move past the topic. “But I still don’t get it.”

“Well, you will get it when you wear it for the wedding,” Serena said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Trust me.”

She winked, holding up a box of sheer stockings with lace trim. “Oh! These will look so good with your outfit. They’ll add just the right touch of elegance.”

You blinked, and before you could even change out of the lingerie, Serena was at the counter, already placing the box in your hands. She pulled you toward the fitting room again, her hands practically guiding you. “These are essential,” she said with a sly grin. “You need to feel this, to be this. It’s just… perfect for you.”

Once again, you found yourself fumbling into the changing room, only this time the stockings weren’t just an accessory. As you rolled the lace up your legs, the fabric slid over your skin in such a way that you couldn’t ignore the shiver it sent up your spine. The delicate lace hugged your legs, tracing each curve with an intimacy that felt almost wrong but… didn’t.

By the time you walked back out, the stockings were in place, the soft lace trimming your thighs. You couldn’t help but feel different—more aware of your body. It was subtle, but it was there, a constant reminder of just how much you were being pulled into this delicate world.

Serena smiled in approval. “Oh, you have to wear these to the wedding under that pink dress. They’ll make everything look even better. And trust me, they’ll feel so good.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. The stockings—every part of the lingerie—felt so delicate, and as you adjusted them again, you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers over the lace edges.

Serena grabbed another item from the shelf, this time a small box containing a black bra with matching lace and satin. “These are an alternative option the lingerie,” she said softly, like she knew what she was doing. “You deserve a good haul for helping me out today.”

Your breath hitched for a second as you stared at the bra, the soft black lace reflecting the overhead lights. Serena was already walking to the fitting room again, and without another word, you followed.

The moment you slipped out of the lingerie and slipped it on, it was like a wave of heat washed over you. The satin cups felt luxurious against your skin, the lace trimmed around the edges, accentuating your modest B-cups. The soft padding gently pressed against you, making you feel more... feminine. So much more feminine than you’d ever felt before.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. There was something _different _about the way your body looked in these clothes. The lace hugged you in ways that felt too right. Too smooth. Too soft.

You blinked rapidly, pushing the thoughts down.

When you returned to Serena, she looked at you with a knowing smile. “I told you! It looks amazing on you, Luna.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you glanced down at yourself again, adjusting the bra once more. You hated that it felt good, but there was no denying it.

Serena was already off to grab a new set of shoes, bright red pumps this time, dragging you with her. She was too excited to notice the way you lingered over the lingerie, the stockings, the way your movements had become softer, more fluid. You wanted to shake it off, but the feeling kept creeping back.

And as much as you tried to resist, you couldn't stop it. You were a bridesmaid now. Whether you liked it or not.