Member of the Wedding

Member of the Wedding
By Ellie Dauber © 2020

When Sam Hanson tries to stop Cathy Fletcher from marrying his brother, she comes up with an interesting solution.

This is the second story featuring a PolaSRUid camera. The camera changes any subject to match the inscription on its side. In the previous story, “Snapshots,” a retired couple got one that said, “My Darling Daughter.” When the husband took his wife’s picture, she became his daughter. When the daughter took her former husband’s picture, he became her daughter. See what happens in this story.

Member of the Wedding
By Ellie Dauber © 2020

Somebody knocked on the door. Three times. Me, I was sitting down, very carefully attaching my sheer white stocking to a garter.

“I’ll get it,” Cathy Steiner said. Cathy, my best friend since Brownie Scouts, was already in her maid of honor’s pink chiffon dress. It was a lot simpler than the rig I was going to be wearing, but then I was Angela Fletcher, Marty Hanson’s bride-to-be; soon to be his bride-that-was.

The chain was still across the hotel room door. Cathy opened it just a crack and saw… “Sam Hanson, get the hell out of here!”

“I have to see Angie. It’s… It’s important.”

I stood up and grabbed for the plush robe the hotel provided for its guests. There was a limit – a big limit -- on how much of me he was going to see. As soon as it was on and belted, I told her, “Let him in.”

She undid the latch. He was in before she had the door all the way open. Cathy stepped back, and he closed the door behind him. “Thanks.”

“What’s so important that you had to see me now?” I asked, trying to keep a civil tone. “Can’t it wait until after the ceremony?”

That’s the problem. You’re making a mistake… marrying the wrong guy.”


“You’re my girl. You’ve been my girl since we were in high school. We were meant to be together.”

“Then what were you doing in bed with Monica Kepler at the lake last summer?”

“That was a mistake. I thought you were – I mean, it was a one-time thing. You were in Manchester. I was lonely… drunk. I… She seduced me.”

“So you said. She seduced you. And so did Lisa Whitmore and Steffie Palmer – twice – and… and, hell, the list goes back to Gilda Weiss at our high school graduation party.”

“What about you and Marty?”

“I never even dated your brother until after I caught you with Monica. He came by to see how I was doing, and we just… hit it off. I mean, I’ve known him for years, but, till then, I’d never thought of him as anything more than a friend. He’s a lot like you, Sam, only he’s honest and loyal. And I love him. I’m sorry, but I do.”

Sam came over to where I was standing. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “You can’t. I-I won’t let you, Angie. You’re mine.”

“Let go of her,” Cathy ordered.

He shook his head. “No! Not till she agrees to marry me!” He had a wild look in his eyes, like he was ready to hurt somebody. Maybe Cathy, maybe Marty, maybe even me.

But I was ready for this. “Okay, Sam, okay; let’s calm down. I need to think about what you’re saying.” I pointed across the room to the complimentary bottle of wine in the ice bucket that the hotel had sent up. “I need a drink. Would you please pour me a glass?”

“Sure,” he said, giving me his best smile. “Anything for my beautiful bride.” He walked over, found a glass, and began to pour the drink.

That’s when I grabbed it, the polaSRUid camera that the funny old man in the bathrobe had given me. I’d gone to the mall for my hair appointment and discovered his shop where M’Lady’s was supposed to be.

“Hello, Angela.” He greeted me like an old friend, even though I’d never seen him before. “I’m glad that you came in. I wanted to warn you about Sam Hanson.”

“What about Sam? He left town the day Marty announced that we were getting married.”

“He’s coming back, and he has every intension of marrying you himself.”

“I won’t have him. I love Marty, and he’s the Hanson I’m going to marry.”

“Then I’m afraid that Sam will try to kill you.”

“What; no!”

“Yes; he’s warned his brother that he’s the only Hanson you’ll ever marry.”

“Oh, Lord, he’s stubborn. He’ll keep making trouble after Marty and I --”

“He will… as long as he’s a Hanson. Would you like to change that?”

“What do you mean?”

He told me, and he sold me the odd little camera for $49.50. The same camera that I was now pointing at Sam.

“Hey,” he said, the camera flash surprising him. “Next time, warn me, so I can smile for the birdie.”

He finished pouring the drink and fitted the bottle back into the ice bucket. Then he walked over, smiling. As he handed me the glass, I pulled the film packet out of the camera. “Here you --”

He froze in place, still bent over, the drink in his hand. I glanced at the picture. It was nothing but a silvery cloud. A moment later, Sam’s body was covered with the same washed-out silver color. “Solarized,” the old man had called it.

I managed to pry the glass free. His fingers just wouldn’t move. I don’t know why it wasn’t silvered, too, but it wasn’t. Maybe it had to be a part of him.

Then he began to shrink. I noticed that some color was seeping back into the picture, and the same seemed to be happening to Sam. He and Marty had been about the same size, just over six feet, with broad shoulders and a muscular build.

He shrank down to my size; and smaller. I’d guess that he was barely five foot tall when he stopped. He was a lot thinner, too. His square jaw looked a lot rounder, and his hands were tiny.

The silvery figure was smooth. No sign of cuffs at his ankles or wrists; no lump for a bowtie at his throat or bugle for his jacket around his middle. The silver was fading away from his hair. It had gone from dark brown to a honey blonde. It was a lot longer, too, hanging halfway down his back. There were lumps of some sort in the hair, like something was attached to it.

As the silver faded from his body, it left behind feminine curves where there had been masculine angles. His legs -- bare, except for what looked like pink slippers on his feet – were graceful, coltish, with a creamy complexion very different from his normal dark tan.

By now, the color was almost gone from his body below the waist. Her body, actually; there was no male bulge in the front of the pink panty she seemed to be wearing. Her waist was narrower, and her hips were wider. Her butt was swelling out to the inverted heart-shape of a young woman.

The silver was fading fast. Sam was wearing a lovely one-piece teddy that hugged her figure. The last vestige of silver left her chest as the front of the teddy swelled outward, filled with what I’d guess were probably 34-B breasts. There was no hint of an adam’s apple in her long, slender neck.

Sam’s face could be seen now. Her eyebrows were two thin lines over eyes that, once the silver left them, were a bright blue, rather than the brown they had been. Her nose was smaller, pert, and her lips were fuller. They were covered with a pale pink polish, not strands of silver. Her cheekbones were higher, as well. She didn’t look anything like Sam Hanson anymore. Actually, she looked a lot like my mother. And me,

“What the hell?” She suddenly blinked. Then she shook her head, trying to get rid of the confusion she felt. The bumps in her hair turned out to be pink baby orchids.

Cathy had been in the mall with me when I met that old man. She hadn’t believed a word of what he’d said. Until that moment; now she believed, and she was more than willing to play along. “Are you all right, Amber?”

“Who’s Amber,” Sam asked. And what… what’s the matter with my voice? When I tell… Mom. Wait a minute, what Mom? Who-Whose Mom?”

I looked at the picture. It showed the same young girl that was standing before me. Only she was smiling, almost laughing as she poured me that drink. “You. You are Amber,” I told her. “Amber Fletcher, my sixteen year-old sister.

“You’re crazy. I’m…” She looked down at her body. The view, though, was partly blocked by two breasts, clearly visible in the cups of the pink teddy she wore. Her hand shot down to her groin, and her mouth dropped as she felt no masculine lump, only a flat surface over a very sensitive slit.

“But I… I’m Sam… Sam Hanson and – but I-I remember playing with baby dolls and wearing cute dresses – cute dresses? I’m… I’m Amber Fletcher, too. How?”

Cathy turned the confused girl to face the full-standing mirror placed nearby.

Amber stared a moment, uncertain. Then she began to pose, shifting to look at her back – and her backside; facing the mirror, one hand on her hip; taking a breath and pushing her… chest out. “I look so grown up, so… No! I’m a man, darn it! A man.” A man, hah! She couldn’t even curse like a grown man anymore,

“Amber!” Cathy clapped her hands.

My new sister turned at the sound of her name. “Yes?”

“I know how pretty you look, Amber; like a real grown-up lady.” Cathy saw the girl smile, but then look confused and uncertain. Sam and Amber were fighting it out inside the girl’s head, and Cathy wanted to give Amber some help. “It’s getting late. You’ve got to get into your dress.”

“My… My dress?” She looked around the room.

I decided to put in my two cents. “Yes; your dress. I can’t get married without my junior bridesmaid standing next to me in her pretty pink dress.” I pointed to the rack where my wedding dress hung. Next to it was a dress that hadn’t been there, that probably hadn’t even existed, a few minutes before. It was a pink bridesmaid dress, identical to the one Cathy already had on, but smaller. Amber’s size.

“I-I guess.” Amber walked slowly over to the rack. “I remember trying this on. So… so many memories, and they’re getting stronger. Sam’s losing, getting weaker.” She looked dazed, but she took the dress off the rack. She shifted it over her head and let it slip down onto her body.

Cathy stepped over to her. “Need help?” The dress buttoned in the back. Only female clothes do that.

Amber shook her head. “No, I can manage it.” Her arms reached behind her, and she buttoned the garment easily, as if she’d had years of practice. Then, while Cathy helped me into my wedding gown, Amber preened in the mirror like the teenage girl she appeared to be.

* * * * *

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Marty looked so handsome, and when the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” and told him, “You may kiss the bride.” He certainly did. I felt that kiss down to my toes. I kissed him back, too, a kiss that promised a lot more as soon as we could be alone.

When I looked over at them, Amber was tearing up as much as Cathy was.

And when it came time to toss the bouquet, Amber was there with Cathy trying to catch it. Cathy was the one who did, and she smiled at me and then at Jim Heinz. They’d been dating for a while, and she told me that it looked serious. I hope the bouquet gave him a push in that direction.

* * * * *

Finally, it was time to go. Marty was changing in his hotel room, while Amber helped me switch from my gown to the simple white cotton dress I would be wearing on the flight to Bermuda. I don’t know where Cathy was, but Jim was with her. I kept on the “fancy” underwear I’d worn under my gown, off-white silk and satin bustier, frilly white thong, and matching garter belt; white stockings, too. I planned to let Marty take those things off me when we got to our room.

It suddenly occurred to me that Sam Hanson was getting to see me in that sexy outfit, after all. Except I didn’t think that there was much of Sam left. “Did you enjoy the wedding?” I asked, trying to sound her out.

“Sam didn’t,” she said frowning. “He’s still around; sort off. I remember being him, and I remember how you changed me with that camera.” She looked around the hotel room. “Where is it, by the way?”

I looked, too. I remembered setting it in a drawer in the nightstand, but it was gone. There was an envelope in its place. I opened it and read a typed note.

“Item: PolaSRUid Camera; “My Sweet Little Sister” model. Rental fee: $9.50. Deposit of $40 returned. Congratulations on your marriage.” Four ten dollar bills were in with the note.

I showed Amber the note. “I guess there’s no way of changing you back.” As if I wanted to.

“I don’t mind... much.” She shrugged. “I think I like being Amber. Sam was kind of a creepy guy, and I don’t think I like him very much.”

“Besides, Tony Schmidt was at the wedding. He’s a junior at the school that Amber – that I go to. We went into the hotel garden after the meal and…” She blushed. “…he kissed me. I-I know I liked that.”

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