Of course, it wasn’t that easy, either.

First, I had to figure out how to deal with work. 

I started with an email to HR, telling them that I would be transitioning, starting immediately, that my name was Daisy, and that my pronouns were she/her/hers. Then I set up a video conference with my manager.

Thanks to the chain, I was able to talk in a voice that I could have believably achieved by practice, when I had to, and I turned my laptop such that my back was to the window. I was so backlit that he’d barely been able to make out that a person was there at all.

Both he and HR were okay, but I didn’t get a great vibe, so I immediately started looking. I found a couple things right away, but things weren’t bad enough for me to jump ship for a mediocre offer. I knew I’d find the right job. 

It was harder to get people to take me seriously. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that it felt a little good sometimes. Affirming. At first, anyway. Then it was just a pain in the ass. If I’d been a manager it might have been more of a problem, but since I had no interest in that career path, it was more of an annoyance than anything.

Our friend group had been drifting apart over the last few years, and was mainly interacting over video. We finally just let them go after a couple of them didn’t react well to my transition, and none of the others were willing to take sides.

That hurt, but I had a feeling we wouldn’t have too much trouble making new friends. I found that I was much more social and outgoing as Daisy than I’d ever been as him. Lucy’s boost in self-confidence from her own changes made her much more outgoing as well.

We got tired of the looks we got from our neighbors and decided to move. Lucy went remote with most of her clients and gradually picked up new ones in our new city.

🔗

We were sitting on the sofa in a little vacation house, on a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

We watched the sun dipping down to the horizon and sipped our wine.

“Daisy,” Lucy said.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” she laughed, “I just like saying it.”

I leaned into her.

“Say it as much as you want.”

She kissed the top of my head.

It was the last full day of our honeymoon. Not our second one, because we both agreed that the first one didn’t count.

It had taken a while to get around to renewing our vows. The government back in our old state was run by a bunch of bigots, and made things difficult. We both agreed it was less stressful to wait until we got to our new home.

Then there had been settling in. I’d finally found the job I was looking for, right as we were scheduled to move, so that had been chaotic. By the time we were all settled in, it had been almost a year since we last saw the chain.

A couple of weeks after I really became Daisy, we fell asleep with one end of the chain looped around the bedpost (that had been a fun night). In the morning it was gone. 

Neither of us were surprised—not really. As fun as it could be, we didn’t need it anymore. It turned out that I was excellent at following orders in bed, even without the chain, and it was even more fun that way.

Mostly I was relieved that we’d restored me to my original towering five foot two before it went away. Lucy was a tiny bit disappointed. She enjoyed me at, as she said repeatedly, ‘fun-size.’ To be honest, I did, too, but it wasn’t worth the inconveniences that came with being four foot ten, and she got over it.

Ten months later, we’d finally gotten married properly, as wife and wife. She had looked spectacular in her lavender tux, and I’d felt like a fairy tale princess in my completely over the top confection of a wedding dress.

And now here we were.

I held up my glass and stared into Lucy’s eyes.

“To the second best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I said, “the chain—”

“To the chain,” Lucy agreed.

Our glasses clinked..

“For making me Daisy,” I said, and sipped my wine.

“It didn’t make you anyone. You were always in there. It just set you free.”

I nodded, and Lucy took her own sip.

We watched until the sun slipped away.

Lucy hovered the wine bottle over my glass. I waved her off.

“No more?” she asked.

I smiled.

“I just want you to be sure that you have my full, enthusiastic, and sober consent for what you’re about to do to me.”

“And what’s that?”

“Whatever you want.”