Two Paths Diverge

Am I really doing this?

In this moment I am staring down at two dresses that couldn’t be more different. On the right is the quintessential little black dress. Small and a little tight, enough at least that I couldn’t hide anything while I’m wearing it. A cursory glance tells me that if I put it on it’ll probably come down to mid-thigh, leaving far more of this new body of mine on display than has ever been on display before.

And it doesn’t help that the neckline is so generously low cut. It swoops down, showcasing so very much of me that it would surely be hard for me to be comfortable in it and when I added to that the accessories that were meant to come along with it I knew exactly what Emily’s intentions were with this dress.

I mean little black dress goes with little black bra and panties set. It goes with a choker and high heels that even she wasn’t entirely comfortable wearing. Searching back through her memories I’d come across moments where she’d tried too, tried on everything individually but not everything together and most of all tried walking about on those heels feeling more than a little humiliated by her difficulties.

So if she was humiliated by it then what did that mean for me? Surely it meant that I would be even worse off and that I couldn’t possibly think that it would be a good idea to wear something so very… unsubtle… out tonight.

Still I couldn’t deny the appeal, the draw of it.

It was simultaneous the last thing in the world I would ever wear and the last thing Emily would wear as well. And that made it, right in that moment, some kind of beacon for me. It almost represented choosing a different path, stepping out of my comfort zone.

I was just worried that it might be a little bit too big of a step for me.

So option two then, right? The sundress, light and flowy but still undeniably feminine and so still picking at the bad parts of my male brain that were screaming at me to run. Far more modest than the first choice, absolutely, but the pale blue pattern on it did little to make me feel more masculine.

I couldn’t get out of my head how flimsy it felt. How slight and almost insubstantial. The material feeling like I could rend it easily between my hands, the slim little spaghetti straps holding it up seeming like they could fray apart at any moment.

It too was unfamiliar for the two of us. A quick search through her memory showed no end of discomfort in her own skin and a general denial of all things feminine. When she would look at a dress like this she would think about traditions and expectations and so when she’d picked it out she’d deliberately gone a little bit on the skimpy side of things.

Not nearly as much as with the little black dress but still this dress was a little too form fitting to be truly modest. And the front of it left little to the imagination with the tie that kept the bust together but that left a hole through which plenty of skin could be seen. And god the slit up the side of it was practically indecent, showing off nearly all of my thigh with all of it edging a little too close to exhibitionist for true comfort.

I didn’t know which to go with. I didn’t know which version of Emily to present to the world. It felt like the two sides of a coin and it felt like I could go either way, but god I didn’t know which to choose.

Dark and sexy or demure and sweet? Did it have to be one or the other or was it possible to chart a middle ground or did one option open up equal parts of the other? Did the way you dress really matter or was the way you acted more important?

God. Was everything as a woman going to be this difficult?

I felt a little dramatic, casting myself into the bed with a groan between the two dresses and burying my face into the clean bed linens beneath them. I didn’t want to cry but I did want to scream in frustration or get some answer as to what really mattered and how long I had to be her before I went back.

More than anything I wanted that. I wanted to know how this journey I was on worked and I knew that the answers I was seeking wouldn’t be found in the selection of a dress.

So I turned to the one place I could think of, the only place that I could possibly turn to. The domain of answers correct and often incorrect. The place where people were often wrong but rarely ever in doubt.

Hey There,

Author here stepping into the story for a moment. I know this is a 'choose your own adventure' site and I'm excited to try writing one of those in the future, but this particular story is likely always going to be pretty linear.

That said, though, I'd love the opportunity for some choice, or at the very least some audience participation. Everyone loves audience participation, right?

In a minute here I'm going to drop in a link to an online poll. It's completely anonymous and I'd love it if you participated. Because, like the chapter title says, I feel like this is the point where two paths diverge and the protagonist has to make a choice and she needs your help to do it.

So what'll it be, dear reader? Dark and sexy little black dress? Demure and sweet sundress? Both of them are fun and intriguing in their own ways, but it's up to you as a collective to decide. This is going to come into play for the next chapter, so I'll keep it open and up until just before that chapter begins. But I'd really appreciate your input so follow the link to the poll and vote.

Emily's future depends on it!

https://s.surveyplanet.com/htocywkx

<3

Sophie

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