A White Wedding

The make-up brushes tickled my cheek just a little, tracing the contours of my face as they finished their work.

“Just about… done! Oh my God, you look just stunning, so perfect for your big day! Although, really, a girl as pretty as you could go barefaced and still wow everyone in the chapel.”

“Buuuut, with your magic touch I’m made just perfect. Thank you Janet, you’ve made me feel so special.”

I beamed at the make-up artist by my side and watched her melt a little, my praise making her feel so pleased.

“Ohhhh! I could hug you! But I won’t, keep everything just perfect and rightly set up. Okay, I’ll see you out there. And good luck!”

Janet cheered me on with a cute wave as she left, while I just giggled. Her enthusiasm was so endearing. Eyes settling on my reflection though, it was easy to see why she’d been so excited. The woman who looked back was every inch the perfect blushing bride.

My long hair cascaded in dark, glossy waves down my back and shoulders, matching the light tan of my skin to make a perfect contrast with the crisp white of my wedding dress. Lace sleeves traced down my arms, partially see-through with little rose designs, while around my midriff the material pulled close and showed off my tight waist.

My breasts were on show at the top, and I stood and turned, admiring the way the dress went down low and backless, some of my flawless skin showing through the waves of my hair. Keeping the spin going, I felt the gravity and weight of the long skirts I was wearing, the way they stroked along my legs and left small, pleasant tactile traces along my skin.

Finally I stepped close to the mirror, the click of my heels announcing the movement as I looked at my reflection. Big brown eyes, flaked with gold and highlighted with subtle, skillful liner and eye-shadow. A cute button nose at the center of a perfectly symmetrical face without imperfections, and plump, glossy lips, catching the light and almost begging to be kissed.

“I… I look incredible…”

Wonder mingled with an almost holy gratitude and awe, the weight of everything I was doing only then seeming to fall onto me. Here I was, standing in my wedding dress, ready to get married to my college sweetheart, the love of my life. I was a beautiful woman, a doctor at twenty-seven, ready to walk down the aisle before jetting off to a honey-moon in the Maldives. I had the best friends in the world, Emmy, my maid of honor, and Ashley helping to lead the bridal party. My life couldn’t be more perfect.

My life…

I giggled just a little, before a slightly guilty, perverse grin seemed momentarily to flit across my face. It wasn’t a guilt like I’d done something wrong and regretted it, no. The pleasures I’d basked in, the potent, overwhelming sensation of how right everything felt had more than removed that from me. Rather it was more of a cloying, teasing mock guilt, a bratty desire to be caught. A certain twisted glee.

Looking at me now, it was so difficult to believe I’d ever been a guy called Alex. Just an ordinary, kinda lonely guy. Frustrated, and dejected, and not quite able to place his finger on why. Hoping to make a good group of friends, party and live while he was young, maybe get a college girlfriend. Crushing almost hopelessly on a beauty called Lisa. Crazy to think I’d slithered inside of the warm, slimy, vacant shell of her skinsuit and had been living as her for years.

It hadn’t been the original girl completing most of her time at uni. Celebrating Ashley’s birthday and getting way too drunk, being a shoulder to cry on for Emmy after a breakup. Partying and exploring with them both interrailing around Europe. Going on romantic breaks full of cute moments and wild, dirty sex with my boyfriend. All of that had been me, Alex, just wearing Lisa, wrapped up tight in her skin. The perfect cover of her vessel as I enjoyed every benefit of her body and her identity.

I hadn’t left Lisa in years. A part of me wondered what I even looked like underneath her. It was more than just forgetting what “Alex” looked like, it was a fear turned idle curiosity that my transformation must have finished. Embracing my skinwalker side by taking Lisa’s life for good meant I’d accepted that part of me fully; I no longer feared or hated any changes it made to me. Even still, I couldn’t help but wonder… being in a skinsuit was meant to slow the change, but it wouldn’t stop it altogether. It had been years; there was no way I wasn’t a fully formed skinwalker by now.

Had my original skin fully broken down, absorbed to fuel my transformation, never shed naturally as I’d never left my perfect vessel? Or would I shed it immediately should I leave Lisa, the tattered final remains of Alex tumbling to the floor in shredded waves?

Whatever.

It wasn’t like I’d wanted to leave Lisa anyway. I’d been in her skin for so long it felt utterly like my own, every cell that was hers mine through possession. Staying in her for this long, fully acclimatizing myself to the quirks of her body, the way her exact hormone profile affected her throughout the day, her menstrual cycle. Even the inconvenient, explicitly biological parts of being her filled me with a certain carnal lust and adoration, an intimate craving and acknowledgement that I was fully her.

I wonder…

Thinking all of this, I couldn’t help but reach out towards my cheek, contemplating whether I should pull it. I knew it would hurt at first, stinging as it would anyone. But eventually it would loosen and stretch, my touch providing a subtle acknowledgement to the suit to open just a little, exposing ever so slightly what was underneath.

No.

My hand paused, and then dropped to my side. It wasn’t just the practical concerns that I’d smudge my make-up, rather I felt deeply that there was no need to pull at my cheek. After all, it wasn’t like I really cared anymore what was underneath. I smiled, flawless white teeth lined so perfectly straight, a bright, natural smile, so effortlessly pretty.

This was my face, totally and completely. My eyes dipped lower, down my figure in the mirror before taking in the view of my breasts straining against the dress, holding my hands out in front of me and admiring my long nails. This view, so intimate and exclusive to Lisa, was the same view of my body I’d held for years. This skin was mine, totally and rightfully. I was Lisa, and I didn’t care about who “I” supposedly was underneath.

I turned to the door, hearing it open before three figures rushed in.

“Ohhh don’t you look cute Lisa! My perfect Muñequita!”

“Ahh mama, you’re embarrassing me…”

I couldn’t help but blush as my Mom pulled me into a tender hug, too overwhelmed by emotion to care about possibly wrinkling my dress. She was a short woman, but so passionate and tender. My heart melted as I cuddled her back.

“My little conjita is all grown up.”

My attention was drawn to the gravelly voice of my Dad, a big man currently wiping a tear away at the sight of me.

“Papa! Are- are you crying?”

“It’s not every day a Father sees his daughter in her wedding dress.”

Hearing him say that just intensified my blush, hugging my Mom tighter. My heart felt so overwhelmed with happiness, hearing my parents praise me and show so much genuine love.

“They are right you know. You do look incredible.”

The final person spoke up now too, a tender smile on her face; Emmy, my maid of honor.

“It was only because I had such a helpful maid of honor to help organize everything! And, of course, such wonderful parents to raise me.”

“And give you those great genetics!”

Dad teased, only for Mama to punch him lightly.

“Dear, shut up!

“Alright, alright!”

The sound of their laughter mixed with mine, as I found myself getting swept up in the mirth of the moment.

“Oh, hey, guys, it’s nearly, mhmm…!”

Emmy gestured to the clock, as I straightened up, my Mom fussing over my appearance before Emmy helped me get my veil on. My heartbeat seemed to get faster as I adjusted it, seeing the world through it’s translucent white, like a slight blanket of pearl mist separating me from everyone.

“D-do I look okay?”

I knew we’d be walking out in a minute, down the aisle in front of all my friends and family. I could feel the pulsing of my heart just as I felt my nerves, months and months of planning all leading up to this moment.

“You look amazing… my little girl all grown up.”

Mama wiped a tear as I took in the final look, Emmy handing me a bouquet of flowers. My heart swelled, a powerful mix of pride and joy alike taking hold of me as I took in the image of the gorgeous bride in the mirror.

“Wow… yeah…”

I mumbled it out, seeing through the veil perfectly plump, glossy lips mouthing the words, the face of an angel atop a flawless body, all bound in the most lovely of dresses. For just a moment, I reflected that before all of this had started, this was the kind of look I would have fantasized about only in my wildest dreams. Crazy ideas of marrying Lisa someday myself, seeing her in a dress like this as I made her my wife, or even deeper, repressed dreams of being the bride myself.

Who would have thought I’d get to be the bride, and be Lisa, all at the same time…?

Papa’s arm intertwined with mine as he began to lead me out, and everything almost became a blur after that. Soon we were at the Church, the bridal procession leading into the soft, traditional light from the stained glass windows and the elegant, beautiful statues and art that adorned the walls.

My eyes flicked around the crowd, giving smiles to the gathered congregation, feeling them gaze at me with looks of wonder, awe, appreciation and love. It felt like I was a superstar, a celebrity, everything and anything I’d ever wanted to be. Before I knew it, I was taking my place at the altar, gazing up at the man who would be my husband.

Trent smiled, a deeply affected, moved look of adoration in his eyes he was trying to play cool as he took my hands. The Priest began the ceremony, but I was lost looking at him. He was in a black tuxedo, classic and elegant, and even through the flawless tailoring his powerful muscles could still be noticed. His jawline was strong and his face handsome, every part of him almost seeming like the ideal male form.

Trent. That was who he was now. For a while, at the start of our relationship, Candida and I had played around. Enjoyed trying out our powers, messed around as a skinwalker couple. We’d been strangers, enjoying a night that was slick and sleazy as I wore a stripper and she wore a pimp. We’d been lovers, fucking as a married couple in their early forties as their children soundly slept. We’d been people we knew, me moaning and panting as she wore Jimmy, fucking me in Emmy as we did a “best friends” night. To this day, neither of the two of them ever knew they’d had sex, and I suppose in a way “they” never had.

In the last few years though, it seemed just as I’d fully adopted the identity of Lisa, Candida had fully adopted the mantle of Trent. I suppose it made sense in a way, for someone who’d lived as long as Candida had, even a lifetime just as Trent wouldn’t be so long. Maybe this was a more thrilling, long term roleplay; a welcome break from being whoever again, and again, and again. Really growing attached to a body, to an identity, making it your own.

Really “living” as it were, embracing both consequences and the little trails and tribulations of the everyday. It made things more meaningful that way. Maybe someday we’d leave these skins, when they were old and grey, or even passed away altogether. But I wanted everything, every moment, and every part of Lisa’s life. Of my life.

I was so caught up in thought, the hazy rush of excitement that almost makes you feel like you’re on auto-pilot as you get through such a momentous occasion, that I barely realized we’d made it to our vows. Trent had already said I do, giving me the warmest smile, as the Priest finished asking me.

I looked at the crowd, and at the priest. Expectant eyes gazed at me, on the altar facing the man and the skinwalker inside him who’d been there for me all these years, sharing memories funny and sad, intense and perverse and as many natural and unnatural. Finally I glanced at my body for just a second, perky, indulgent breasts straining against their white fabric, slender arms and pristine nails, and the billowy skirts of my wedding dress.

Did I really want a lifetime as Lisa? Seeing her face in the mirror every morning, waking up beside Trent as my husband? Supporting each other, playing with one another. Career, a house, holidays, cars, normal Sunday mornings, children?

I met his eyes one last time with a smile.

“I do.”

“Then you may kiss the bride.”

The words had barely left the Priest’s mouth before Trent pulled me close to him, powerful hands on my hips as our lips met. My heart rocketed into the stratosphere as his tongue met mine, my knees feeling totally weak as the room erupted in cheers. Dreams of every day we could spend together stayed suspended in my mind as my needy body was filled with dopamine, every touch feeling like it sparked as we kissed.

We broke apart, dazed looks of adoration in our eyes, before he slipped the ring with its rubies and sapphires onto my finger, the precious gemstones catching the light. I felt his arm on my waist as we began to walk down the steps, and with each one I felt such powerful, wonderful affirmation that I’d made the right choices, as happiness surged in a tsunami through my heart.

I wonder… so much has happened since all those years ago, when I said yes to being Trent’s, Candida’s girlfriend… who would have ever thought I could have a happy ending like this?

That I could be his bride?

I so, so glad I said yes… I’m so glad I’m here, I’m Lisa, and I get to enjoy this lifetime with him..