Raifu Suitchi 14

Chapter 14: The Blushing Bride

Allen struggled to wake up for work the morning after his bachelorette party, his memory foggy and head throbbing. After taking a hot shower, he wrapped himself in a big, fluffy towel and made his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, which somewhat restored his sense of humanity. The commute was a nightmare; the cold weather compounded by a packed bus forced him to stand squashed against a stranger, struggling to stay upright atop his high-heeled pumps.

The morning at Bloom Fashion Magazine was notably unproductive. Conversations were sparse as everyone nursed their hangovers. Around eleven, Evelyn stopped by Allen's desk with a coffee for him and pulled up a chair. "Feeling as rough as I am?" she inquired, looking visibly worn.

"Feeling like I've been run over by a truck if that's what you mean," Allen responded, gratefully accepting the coffee. Evelyn cracked a smile. "Wild party last night, ay? I still can't believe you're getting married. Is it all for the show, or will you two be like... actually married?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest," Allen replied, shaking his groggy head. "But from what they've told us, it seems like it's the real deal."

"Wow! So, you're going through with this just for the money?" Evelyn asked, probing deeper.

Allen appeared hurt by the suggestion. "No, it's not just about the money," he countered. "The money is a big plus, of course. But this is about taking a stand against the studio. They've pushed us too far. Early on, Sofia and I made a pact to complete all their challenges without complaint. We planned to win the money and deny the show any footage of us looking embarrassed, which is exactly what they're after."

"Wow," Evelyn said again, trying to digest everything Allen had shared. "It sounds like you might end up hurting yourselves more than the studio at this rate," she added, smiling.

"You might be right. But I've come too far to back out now. And besides, divorces are pretty common these days, right?"

Evelyn laughed. "True that. But I guess we'll have to postpone that date we were planning. I can't exactly go around kissing married women now, can I? That is… If you're still interested in a date? After your performance at the cabaret club last night, your actions suggest you might be more interested in men now.”

Allen averted his gaze and sighed. "Evelyn, what happened last night... I was performing for the cameras and, to be honest, after my fourth drink, my memory gets a bit fuzzy."

"Really?" Evelyn's voice took on a note of surprise. "You don't remember the strippers? Or how about the half-naked man who covered himself in whipped cream before getting you to lick it off his..."

Allen cut her off, "Okay, please stop," he implored, feeling nauseous at the thought of what she was describing. "What I do remember, though, is that I still very much want to go on that date with you."

"Aww, that's sweet," Evelyn said as she leaned over, giving Allen a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Maybe once you're single again," she added, giving him a tighter squeeze.

"I guess you're right," Allen replied, finding comfort for the first time that day in Evelyn's embrace. "But promise me one thing."

"Go ahead," Evelyn said, looking the feminized man in the eyes.

"Let's never mention whipped cream again, okay?" he said, prompting a burst of laughter from both of them.

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Early Friday morning, Allen found himself woozily seated in the back of a minivan, nursing a coffee en route to a spa clinic. It was the day of his wedding, and the agenda was packed with appointments aimed at ensuring he would emerge looking flawlessly feminine for the ceremony. Throughout the morning, Allen was immersed in a whirlwind of hair and facial treatments. Despite his familiarity with beauty treatments from his research at the magazine, he encountered procedures whose names and purposes were mysteries to him. Some treatments, like the facial mask and the touch-up of his eyelash extensions, were familiar. Yet, others were novel, such as a device that was methodically rolled over his face, supposedly to tighten the skin and minimize pores. Eventually, Allen opted to surrender to the expertise of the spa staff and take a nap, recognizing that resistance was futile.

Awakened by a gentle tap on his shoulder, Allen was informed by Aiko that it was time to go. The fluttering in his stomach intensified at the realization of what lay ahead: the journey to the registry office to get married. He swapped the spa robe for his casual attire, which for him still meant a skirt and wedge heels.

As they made their way to the registry office, Allen's anxiety mounted. Upon being shown to his dressing room, the overwhelming sensation nearly brought him to the brink of fainting. Thankfully, someone handed him water, and he took a moment to sip it, focusing on deep, steadying breaths.

Dressed in his wedding negligée, which comprised silky white panties, a matching push-up bra that created an impressive cleavage, and his waist drawn in by a tight corset from which garters stretched down to white stockings, Allen sat almost motionlessly, like a statue, as a makeup artist painted his Botox-filled face.

As a fine mist of setting spray fixed his makeup in place, a studio representative approached with Allen's gown. She carefully hung it up and began to unzip the garment bag. Allen held his breath in anticipation, facing the surreal moment of seeing his wedding dress for the first time. Despite having donned various dresses in the past weeks, the idea of wearing a wedding dress felt profoundly different, unsettlingly so. He had occasionally imagined himself getting married, but never had he envisioned being the bride.

The woman unveiled the flowing white gown, and Allen, with a camera capturing his every reaction, looked on in disbelief. His expression was stoic as she placed a hoop garment around his slim waist and asked him to lift his arms. What happened next felt like a nightmare unfolding: a fluffy layer of petticoats was fitted over his body, flaring out at his waist. But before Allen could voice his discomfort, another assistant stepped in to help with the dress. Soon, Allen was lifting his arms once more, this time to be enveloped in a cascade of white silk and lace.

As the final back buttons were secured, Allen realized he was effectively imprisoned within the gown, unable to remove it without assistance. The dress, tailored to his measurements, hugged his upper body tightly before flaring into an expansive skirt. Its tight fit made bending down to put on his shoes impossible. Leaning on one assistant for support, he raised each foot as required, allowing the other to slide tall, white platform pumps onto his feet. The shoes, with their clear, sparkling seven-inch heels, presented a new challenge, forcing Allen to wobble as he attempted to stand, the gown's voluminous skirt concealing his now precariously balanced feet.

After a period filled with tension, the moment finally arrived for Allen and Sofia to proceed with their ceremony. Allen was escorted to the office's entrance and instructed to wait as the crew prepared the cameras inside. In a typical Japanese registry office, couples might enter together, often forgoing traditional wedding garb for a more casual appearance as they exchanged vows and signed the necessary documents. However, this was far from a typical scenario; this was television, where drama reigned supreme. Sofia, clad in a tuxedo, awaited inside. The crossdressed duo hadn't laid eyes on each other for several days, and the producers were eager to capture their astonished reactions as Allen made his way across the room, mimicking a walk down the aisle.

When the signal came, Allen felt paralyzed. The sensations enveloping his body nearly overwhelmed him. The corset cinched around his tiny waist making breathing a challenge. The weight of his hair, piled high atop his head and adorned with a tiara and veil, demanded constant support from his neck muscles. The pearl necklace around his neck was chilling, and the matching earrings swayed with each movement.

(See image 40)

As the door swung open, revealing Sofia standing beside the registrar at the far side of the room, Allen's gaze momentarily fell to the vast expanse of white skirt encircling him. He gripped his bouquet with such intensity that his colourful, long nails threatened to crush the delicate flowers. The sight of Sofia, dressed to mirror his past appearance, etched itself into Allen's memory, an image unlikely to fade. Her face, pale with shock, mirrored an expression of utter astonishment, making her appear even more frightened than Allen felt himself at that moment.

Prompted to move forward, Allen took a tentative mincing step, delicately placing his foot down in the lofty wedding shoes, the billowing skirt of his gown spreading wide to hide his silk-stockinged legs from view. With his oversized lips set in a pout, void of any expression, and painted a striking red, Allen commenced the slow, deliberate walk toward his soon-to-be husband.

The totter towards Sofia spanned merely ten meters, yet for Allen, teetering on sky-high heels and taking minuscule, pain-inducing steps, it felt like an odyssey. With the cameras rolling, set to broadcast his bridal magazine-worthy appearance to millions, each step seemed to stretch into infinity. Finally, he reached the table where the document awaited their signatures. Glancing at Sofia, Allen's concern was palpable. "Are you okay?" he inquired. Sofia offered a meek nod, her gaze shifting away.

The registrar's introduction was brisk, and just as Allen was about to decline the offer to exchange vows, Aiko burst onto the scene. She handed them a card bearing pre-written vows and laid out two ring boxes before dashing off. With trembling hands, Allen began reciting the vows, feeling a wave of nausea as he promised to ‘love and to cherish’ the version of Allen Dolberg standing opposite him as her wife. Sofia, after a brief hesitation, reciprocated with her vows, sealing their union.

The registrar's declaration of "husband and wife" prompted a tepid kiss from Sofia to Allen, sparking cheers and applause from the production team. As Haruto guided them, hand in hand, they feigned joy for the camera's close-up, capturing their "bliss."

Outside, the reality of their situation settled in. Allen, ever the optimist, joked about the speed at which he had reclaimed his family name, coaxing a small smile from Sofia. Aiko's timely arrival to usher them to their limousine marked the beginning of their departure. The cold November air, the stares from onlookers, and the struggle with his voluminous gown and stilt-like pumps made the journey to the vehicle quite the spectacle.

Sofia's "Ladies first" quip, as they approached, lightened the mood, with Allen tumbling into the backseat beneath layers of white fabric. Sofia's laughter, as she helped him sit up, was a silver lining. The ride to the reception was filled with forced smiles, champagne toasts, and a mandatory kiss, all under the watchful lens of Yamato's camera. Allen remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to withhold the humiliation and embarrassment the show craved, presenting only a façade of happiness to the world.

Allen and Sofia's grand entrance into the posh five-star hotel felt like a scene from a movie, except Allen was less dashing hero and more damsel-in-distress, struggling on his heels and clinging to Sofia's suited arm for dear life. They were ushered through a lobby of applause and up to the 14th floor, where they faced the double doors of destiny.

Aiko, their guide through this televised fairy tale, gave them a crash course in wedding aisle etiquette: walk slow, smile, and pretend like the two hundred guests weren't about to scrutinize their every step. Before they could even digest Aiko's "simple" instructions, the doors burst open to the melodramatic tunes of Bruno Mars, setting the stage for their slow-motion strut across what felt less like a room and more like an arena.

As they made their painfully slow trek towards the stage, flanked by the flash of cameras and the roar of their guests, a giant screen broadcast snapshots of Allen's life. There he was: a toddler, a teen, a graduate, all leading to this humiliating moment.

Inching through the room, Allen and Sofia, clutching onto each other for support, felt time stretch into eternity. Beneath his layers of makeup, Allen's face rivalled a tomato for its redness, matching Sofia's flushed makeup-free cheeks. Waving to the crowd with forced elegance, Allen thought he had reached the pinnacle of embarrassment. Yet, destiny had more in store.

Upon reaching the stage, Allen's gaze swept over the crowd, landing on a sight that made his heart skip a beat – his little sister Emily, seated at the main table. At that moment, Sofia's grip was the only thing keeping him upright until she gasped herself, releasing Allen and causing him to nearly take a tumble - Her shock came from spotting her own mother next to Emily, adding another layer of surprise to the evening.

The MC's introduction shifted the atmosphere, turning the spotlight firmly on them as the room settled down for a series of toasts and tales. Friends and colleagues took turns at the microphone, some sheepish, others revelling in the chance to share their most mortifying Allen and Sofia stories.

The humiliating ordeal on stage finally ended. But the embarrassment was far from over for the crossdressed bride and groom. The moment had come for the newlyweds to circle the room, expressing their gratitude one table at a time. The journey began at the family table. Allen, navigating the terrain on shaky legs and numb toes, approached Emily. Holding the bouquet like a lifeline, he met his sister's gaze, which was filled with astonishment and a hint of amusement. "Good grief, is that really you under there, Al?" she inquired, her voice laced with disbelief and a touch of awe.

As Allen forced a smile, his heart raced, confronting the surreal reality of his sister witnessing him in full bridal attire. "Hey, Em. Yeah, it's me," he stammered, his voice a mix of nerves and disbelief, as he awkwardly adjusted his stance. "I guess I look a little different, huh?"

Emily's response was a mix of astonishment and sibling banter. "A little? Al, you're a full-on princess now! What have you done to yourself?"

The weight of the situation made Allen's false smile drop. "It's for a show... It’s a long story," he mumbled, the tone of his voice caught between his en-femme persona and the brother Emily knew. "But how come you're here?"

Emily's answer unravelled more surprises. "The show called us up, invited us to your 'wedding.' Ma was beside herself when she found out you the bride!"

Allen's panic spiked. "Ma and Pa know about this? Please tell me they're not here!"

"No, they couldn't make it. Pa’s health and all," Emily explained, her expression softening. "But seriously, Al. I never imagined my big bro would make such a stunning bride."

Just as Allen was about to delve deeper into the whirlwind of explanations, Aiko swooped in, halting the heartfelt yet awkward reunion. "Time to mingle with the rest of your guests," she announced, pausing the moment between Allen and Emily, as well as Sofia's conversation with her mother.

Allen shot Emily an apologetic look, the complexity of his emotions evident. "Sorry, Em. Duty calls. But I’ll be back in a bit. We can talk more then, yeah?"

Emily's response was laced with humour and affection. "Go on then, big sis. Just watch your step in those skyscrapers, alright? Wouldn’t want to turn an ankle on your big day." Her laughter was a comforting reminder of the bond they shared, no matter how unconventional the circumstances.

What followed was Allen and Sofia navigating from table after table, engaging in a repetitive cycle of toasts and small talk with guests. Despite the discomfort of killer heels and the growing light-headedness from the champagne, Allen soldiered on until they completed their rounds. Just as they were about to enjoy the first course of their meal, Aiko intervened, announcing it was time for Allen to change outfits in accordance with the tradition of the Asian brides.

Reluctantly following Aiko, Allen's exit was spotlighted by the MC, prompting another round of cringe-inducing applause and cheers from the guests as he made his way out. After enduring another hair and makeup transformation, Allen emerged in a strikingly different ensemble: a comparably comfortable, green asymmetric dress that highlighted his legs given its short front. The change to a pair of designer patent pumps was a relief after spending the last few hours atop his "white death traps."

The makeup artist had once again meticulously enhanced Allen's features to present a flawless feminine appearance, finishing with wavy curls that cascaded over his bare shoulders.

Standing outside the double doors, preparing for his second entrance, Allen caught his reflection, seeing a figure that epitomized beauty, albeit one that deeply conflicted with his sense of self. This moment of recognition - seeing the painstakingly crafted beauty in the mirror as himself - left Allen with complex emotions about his transformed appearance.

Suddenly, the music swelled, and the doors swung open as Allen braced himself for the spotlight once more. Taking a deep breath and plastering a faux smile across his heavily made-up face, he embarked on yet another ceremonious totter across the vast room. This time, the absence of Sofia's steadying presence made each step atop sky-high heels feel even more precarious. Yet, the rhythmic counting between steps oddly grounded him, diverting his thoughts from the sheer absurdity of his situation - a young Australian man named Sofia, navigating a sea of flashes and cheers in a glamorous evening gown, in the aftermath of the most unconventional of weddings.

Upon reaching the far end of the room, Allen was greeted not by the stage he expected but by a grandiose five-tier wedding cake, signifying the climax of the wedding meal. A pang of annoyance hit him as he realized the banquet had concluded without him, his hunger making itself known.

Soon, Sofia joined him for the cake-cutting ceremony, but first, there were speeches to be made. Allen scanned the crowd, locking eyes with familiar faces - his sister Emily, Miss Hitori, Evelyn - and a myriad of unknown guests, all eagerly anticipating his words. With Yamato positioning himself for the perfect shot, Allen kept his address short: "Thank you all for coming. The day has been... perfect," he managed, the irony of his statement not lost on him, yet his smile never wavered. The room erupted in applause, a testament to the event's unique blend of chaos and celebration.

(See image 41)

After Sofia's brief expression of gratitude, they united to slice through the wedding cake, their joint action sparking another wave of applause. Guided back to their designated seats, they watched as waiters served slices of the elaborate cake. For Allen, who hadn't eaten all day, the sugar hit was a divine treat, swiftly devoured.

Soon after, the crowd began to disperse, with a select group gearing up for the after-party upstairs. For Allen and Sofia, one final task awaited them as newlyweds: a farewell photo session. Stationed by the exit, they smiled and posed with guests - an exhausting experience after an exhausting day not yet concluded.

The real relief came as they ascended to the after-party. The atmosphere shifted, the room alive with music from a DJ booth and the guest tipsy from champagne. When it came time for the first dance, Allen and Sofia stepped onto the dance floor. Their movements were hesitant, a delicate sway to the rhythm, their awkwardness fading as the room filled with dancing guests.

During the third song, Emily smoothly took over from Sofia. Stepping aside, Sofia watched as Emily grasped her brother’s elegantly manicured hands. “Wow, these are wild,” she commented, admiring Allen’s hands, “I thought my nails were long, but yours are something else.”

Allen, feeling much more at ease and genuinely pleased to be with his sister, responded with a light-hearted tone, “Yeah, it took a while to get used to them. They’re fine as long as I don’t need to like pick anything up or anything.”

Emily's laughter filled the air. “Wow! I can hardly believe how girly you are. Your voice. That hair. Dam! Your whole look. Is this really just for a TV show, or is there something more you haven’t told us?”

“It’s genuinely just for the show,” Allen assured her with a shake of his head and a sigh. “It all started with a chance encounter on the street and kinda snowballed from there.”

“Snowballed? Allen, you could easily fit in on one of those ‘Real Housewives’ series. And let’s not even start on those lips; they don’t exactly scream temporary,” Emily observed, a mix of amusement and concern in her voice.

Caught off guard by her remark, Allen felt a twinge of self-consciousness but quickly explained the situation was beyond his control, emphasizing his resolve to see the competition through and prove a point to the show’s producers. Emily listened closely, then voiced a thoughtful question. “But how far are you willing to go, Al? I’m guessing those aren’t real,” she said, eyeing the cleavage peeking from his flowing gown. “But what will they ask you to do next?”

"Don’t worry. They can't do anything permanent to us; that would be illegal," Allen replied, his voice carrying a note of assurance. Emily looked at him, a playful smile on her face, "Well, I hope you know what you're doing, big brother. Otherwise, I might just end up with the sister I never knew I wanted." They shared a dance, then took a moment to sit down and catch up on everything happening back home.

As the evening wound down and guests began to head home, fatigue settled over Allen. The show had arranged for them to stay in a luxurious suite upstairs, arguably the most extravagant room Allen had ever seen. Despite the opulence, the prospect of sharing a bed with Sofia did not extend beyond a practical arrangement to catch some much-needed rest. They fell asleep with their backs to each other, each silently relieved that the long and eventful day had finally come to an end.

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The next evening, Jin Watanabe observed the show's filming from his producer's perch, high above the studio floor. The announcement had just been made by Enzo, confirming the contestants' advancement to the next round. With two couples bowing out over the marriage challenge, only three remained. The next task would be particularly intense: living through a re-enactment of a traumatic experience from their partner's past, designed to captivate the audience.

Jin's frustration mounted as he watched Allen's unfazed reaction, his grin seemingly mocking the ordeal laid out before him. Jin had pushed the limits this season, engineering scenarios designed to provoke embarrassment and humiliation, all while risking his career. Yet, Allen appeared untouched by the provocations. With the show nearing its final two weeks, Jin was haunted by the possibility of Allen winning, a scenario he considered unthinkable. The company's president had made it clear that no contestant was meant to claim the grand prize, yet here was Allen, the same man Jin held responsible for destroying his daughter Riku's life, on the verge of victory.

Determined to thwart Allen's chances, Jin knew drastic measures were necessary. It was time to leverage his network, to orchestrate an end to Allen's run on the show. The wheels in Jin's mind began to turn, plotting the downfall of the contestant who had, against all odds, become his greatest challenge.