//------------------------------//
// Lady Picture Show 
// Story: Mrs. Brightside– Coming Out Of My Cage Extras 
// by Boopy Doopy 
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Sam took a breath and knocked on Mark’s door, not knowing what to expect, but preparing for the worst. She’d heard from their father what he looked like now, but still hadn’t seen or spoken to him since he texted her on his twenty-seventh birthday.
“Wow, this was an unexpected surprise,” she heard in greeting as she watched the front door open, revealing an entirely different person from the one she expected. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon.”
Sam practically glared back at her brother, quickly saying, “I’m only here because Mom said I have to invite you to my wedding, too.” Then she looked him up and down, adding, “You look different. Got fatter, too. I’d almost say you’re not Mark, but this is his house, so I know it’s you.”
Different was an understatement. Except for his eyes and nose, her brother didn’t look like the same person at all. Even his hair– she was sure it wasn’t this long the last she saw him. What was he, twenty-three when Sam moved to Georgia? It was shoulder length then, but now it went down to his butt, and looked a bit shinier. He was still taller than her by a good two or three inches, but was definitely curvier now. A few of his curves were almost as big as her own, something that made her scowl harder. He didn’t look very weird like she was expecting– well, he did look weird, being that he was her brother and he’d gone and done all of this, but no different than any other woman off the street. It was almost like she was staring at any other lady.
Sam knew she wasn’t staring at any other lady.
“You used to be a twig,” she continued. “No more than a hundred and thirty pounds when I last saw you. Also, I’m pretty sure you didn’t have breasts." She didn’t have a hint of happiness or surprise or congratulations in her voice, only malice and a hint of anger.
“I wasn’t ever that thin, but I wouldn’t say a hundred and eighty pounds is fat. But thank you for putting it all so bluntly anyway,” Mark said sarcastically. He sounded different, too, Sam realized. His voice was more high pitched and feminine. Softer was the word to use. Whether through training or surgery, she didn’t know how he did it, but wasn’t particularly interested in the answer anyway.
“I will admit I do look different though,” her brother continued, "but different is better. I like being able to stand being who I am and looking in the mirror. Also, you could’ve sent a letter, but since you’re here, you can come inside I guess.”
Sam entered the home silently, taking a look around at everything as Mark stood behind her. It looked just the same as it did the few times she visited, times that were well past five years ago at this point. She did notice it was a bit messier than she remembered, and noted a few baby toys and a child monitor on the coffee table, along with a playpen on the ground, set up in the middle of the room. There were also a few pictures on the walls, some with herself– himself– in them, others with a child and someone else she guessed was his husband. The man in the pictures was certainly not Mark, since she remembered what her brother used to look like.
It was interesting to see things after so long without meeting up with her brother, she had to admit. However, she brushed that fact aside, turning to him and saying, “I’m just here to tell you the wedding’s in August and is gonna be in Georgia. Like I said, Mom said I have to invite you.”
“Thanks for telling me that you don’t wanna see me there.”
“I didn’t say that, Mark,” Sam got out, making him frown at her little jab. “You know, you always do that. Put words in people’s mouths that they didn’t say.”
“I wasn’t the one who said that Mom is making you–”
Before the argument ahead could ensue, there was a noise on the baby monitor, one that Sam couldn’t really make out. An infant though, clearly, one who sounded wide awake and energetic.
“That’s my son, Tracy,” Mark explained, heading into the other room to get him, Sam following. “He’s almost thirteen months old and the most precious thing in the whole world.” He was in full baby voice by the time he finished the sentence, kissing Tracy’s cheek more than once as he lifted him out of his crib and held him. He was smiling from ear to ear as he looked at him, Sam not really sharing his enthusiasm, but the corner of her mouth turning up a bit anyway. She had to admit, for a man, he certainly acted like a mother, and even looked and sounded the part, too. Not that those things made him one.
“Ma! Mama!” Tracy proclaimed, using a tiny hand to tug on his parent’s shirt a bit.
“Yes, honey?” Mark asked happily. “What do you want?”
“Gibfd legjfs erum medsukl ee mama.”
He giggled at that, and kissed his son’s cheek again. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m your mama, aren’t I?” He looked like he was getting visibly happier by the second, something that made Sam back off from saying anything right that second. As much as she wanted to comment that Mark was his father, she decided right then might not have been the best moment.
“I’m your mama and you’re my son, aren’t you?” he said, rubbing Tracy’s back as he bounced him a bit. “My wonderful, beautiful little pony.” 
“Bleblubf zhei mama,” Tracy agreed, resting his head on Mark’s chest as he giggled at what he said.
“Pssh,” someone suddenly said on the other end of the monitor, a man imitating static with an extremely tired sounding voice. “Katrina and Tracy. Lazy Days is trying to sleep. Please vacate the area so I can nap in peace.”
“Sorry honey,” Katrina– Mark– apologized, bending over to speak into the monitor. Then he looked at Tracy and said, “Let’s go. Dada is trying to sleep, sweetie.”
“Dada bedlughsh ee mama.”
It was certainly something to see Sam decided as she followed the two of them back out, Tracy making a little face at her as she did. She wouldn’t go so far as to say it was cute though. There was no way watching Katrina– Mark– pretend to be something other than a man was anything but horrific. She didn’t comment on that fact yet though, knowing he was just going to get upset if and when she said something.
“So is he adopted or what?” she asked suddenly as Mark put Tracy in the little playpen he set up. It made him turn around and stare at Sam with a confused expression, not knowing at all what she was talking about.
“Um, no?” he told her. “I don’t know where you got that idea. He looks just like me, except a boy.”
“Surrogate mother then?”
“Why would I be a surrogate mother?” Mark asked back, raising an eyebrow, now sounding completely confused. “I don’t have the time for that, and certainly don’t need the money.”
“Can you stop being intentionally obtuse and just tell me how he’s yours?” Sam asked, her face hardening.
“Mama! Gyblugh shuelm eat!”
“What was that sweetie?” Katrina asked, bending down to her son and petting his hair some. “Are you hungry, honey?”
“Eat! Eat eat eat! Reflugh eat!”
“Of course you wanna eat, honey. You just woke up after all,” Katrina smiled down at him, petting her son’s hair.
His son. His son. Mark’s son. Not Katrina’s. Katrina was a person who didn’t exist. Sam let out a tiny huff to herself at the fact that she was already getting mixed up in her head who Mark was. Just five minutes of looking at this woman was messing up her perception of who her brother was, and she didn’t like it. He was not anything but a man. That was all he was ever going to be, no matter how he looked or how motherly he acted.
Mark giggled as he picked Tracy back up, walking over to the dining room now to put him in his high chair. “Gosh, he’s such a smart kid,” he said, half to himself. Then, to Sam, continued, “But yeah. He was born after nine months of my being pregnant, same as every other woman.” Then she sighed– he sighed– adding, “Not that you would know that, since you weren’t there. Mom was there, but I guess it’s too much to ask for my sister to be there, too.”
“You’re right, Mark,” Sam responded. “It is too much to ask for a sister to go to her brother’s delivery room and watch him make a mockery of being a woman.”
The comment earned her a death glare from Katrina, a look Sam couldn’t say she ever saw from her sibling before, one that made her take a step back involuntarily. Before she could get the earful she was about to receive though, Tracy banged on the high chair with his hand, demanding his mother’s attention. His father’s attention.
“Eat! Eat pelopim veesha mama.”
“Of course, sweetie. Mama’s gonna get you something to eat.” His mother touched his nose, adding, “Your aunt Sam is about to earn herself a trip out of our house though if she keeps acting like a transphobic shi– uh, meanie head.” She shot her sister– his sister– a look before continuing, “Now what do you want, honey? Peas, or sweet potatoes?” 
“Eees! Eat eat eees shighif mama!”
“Peas it is then, dear,” Mark smiled, heading over to the cabinet to get the food. As she did, Sam looked him over again, taking in his change. She had to admit, Katrina– Mark– did look like a woman, not that it meant anything. She could almost say he looked like she did, not that she would ever admit so. Honestly, she thought she looked better than most women did, if that was possible. It was annoying to see though, because that wasn’t what she was.
“Did you ever have sex change surgery?” Sam asked out of the blue, seeing Mark frown as he made it back into the dining room to feed Tracy. His expression was a deeply irritated one, but he didn’t turn his sister’s way, focusing on his son.
“That’s certainly one way to ask that question,” she said as a spoonful of mashed peas went into Tracy’s mouth. “You’ve never been one to be this blunt, Sam.”
“Well, you’re the one saying you’re a woman, so I want to see if you actually followed through with what you say you are,” she replied.
“You’re not my fiancé, so that’s not a question that matters to you. It wouldn’t make me less of a woman if I didn’t have it done.”
“So then that’s a no,” Sam replied, rolling her eyes. “But I expected that answer.” Mark wasn’t actually a woman, and this proved it, because he wasn’t going to go through with it all. Not that he would be either way.
He shook his head in annoyance, as though Sam was being completely ridiculous. “I’m getting it done in six weeks,” he told her, “so you can get whatever you’re thinking about me out of your head. Not that it would make a difference either way.”
“Well, why wait so long if you’re pretending to be this?” Sam asked accusingly. “If you really were a woman, you’d get it as soon as possible, so since you waited–”
“You think I intentionally got pneumonia the week I was supposed to have surgery originally?” Katrina suddenly snapped, turning her head and yelling the question at her sister. “I cried about it for weeks when I missed that appointment! I’m not waiting because I'm afraid of something!”
Sam heard her voice slip a little, but she caught herself before it went lower. Her son was now grabbing the spoon off the tray to feed himself as Katrina continued, “Don’t talk to me like that or you’re going to be leaving just as quickly as you came in. I hear enough of that shit from Dad as it is. I’m not gonna listen to it from you, too, especially not in my own home.”
Yup, that was Mark alright, same as always. He was just as sensitive as ever, it seemed. He was sensitive as a little kid, too. He cried over every little thing, like being called a mean name in school or getting his hair cut or anything else she could think of. In thirty years, nothing had changed about him, except everything.
Sam and he used to be as close as ever when they were kids. They watched the same movies and played the same games. Heck, Sam being held back a year even put them in the same grade for most of their childhood. She honestly had no idea what happened. It just seemed like they were drifting apart by the time Mark went to college, and she basically fell out of much contact with him after she moved to Georgia. Not that this helped anything. It wasn’t like she hated him, but once he told her about all of this, she was just automatically put off with him. How he could do this to himself was beyond her comprehension. Not to mention, all this new found pony business, and how Jase was basically convinced by him to move to Equestria. That put her off greatly, more than she could stand. Even if she was getting used to the idea of it, it wasn’t something she liked, hearing that another brother was living life as a horse because of the first. 
One brother was an animal, and the other one was a woman. She certainly didn’t expect either of those sentences to be anything other than the punchline to a joke five years ago.
“Well, anyway, like I said, the wedding’s in August,” Sam told her, “but we don’t have an exact date yet. It’s gonna be in Brunswick, and Mom will give you all the other details.”
 “We’ll be there, I guess, since you invited us,” Katrina said– Mark said– rolling his eyes as he went back to spoon feeding his son. “You might wanna tone down how enthusiastic you sound, though,” he added sarcastically. “I can tell you’re jumping for joy to have me there.”
“Don’t do anything stupid while you’re there,” Sam instructed harshly. “Men are going to wear black tuxedos, and women are going to wear red dresses, and I expect that dress code to be followed.”
“I’ll make sure my fiancé wears the blackest tuxedo in our closet,” her brother said, rolling his eyes. “Although I don’t think I have a red dress. I’m pretty sure I can get Rarity to knit me something special though.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I am, too,” she replied. “I really don’t have a red dress, but I’m willing to buy one since you’re being strict about clothing.”
“You’re going to wear a tuxedo because you're not a woman,” Sam said aggressively, furrowing her brown.
“Yeah, I am,” Katrina shrugged, half chuckling, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. She didn’t even turn her sister's way, still feeding her son, being completely casual.
“Of course, you’re acting like this,” Sam complained. “You’re gonna show up there and completely embarrass me. You already do now, with how I have to explain what you went and did to yourself. That’s probably the reason why you did this. Just to embarrass all of us.”
“What?” The words got Katrina to turn fully around, staring at Sam as she waited for an explanation. 
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the truth. You never liked Dad or Trent very much. I can see this all just being to get back at those two because you hate them.”
“Well, I certainly don’t hate Trent. In fact, lately, I’ve been going to eat out with him and his wife and Mom every few weeks. I don’t even hate Dad. Yeah, he’s impossible to deal with sometimes, but at least he’s coming along inch by inch and still talks to me. Not to mention, he doesn’t act like a complete jackass in front of my son, even though I know he hates me. He at least pretends he doesn’t.”
“So then you’re doing it to spite me specifically, is that what you’re saying?”
“Just get out of here,” her sister said dismissively, turning away from her once again, now completely fed up. “Don’t think about coming back either unless you’re gonna act right. I don’t have the time or patience to listen to this shit from you.”
“Well… if you wanna go to my wedding, you’d better wear a tux, otherwise just don’t show up.”
“Then I guess I’m not going,” Katrina responded, rolling her eyes. “Now leave.”
“You know, you’re saying I’m a jackass, and you’re the one who’s going to ditch your own sister’s wedding. Either that, or you’re gonna show up in a dress and completely embarrass me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you did that.”
“Go.” Katrina turned around to give Sam a look, one that reminded her of the one you’d give a small child or a dog for misbehaving. “Don’t come back until you act better. I expected this behavior from Mom before I did you.”
With that, she turned back to her son one final time, sighing a little before she smiled and said, “I’m sorry sweetie. You shouldn’t have to see mommy act like that. Your aunt Sam is just acting like an idiot. Now let’s get some more yummy peas in your tummy.”
“Mama ewdkijgh glilp eees!” Tracy cheered, clapping his hands.
Sam gave an angry huff at that as she walked out, slamming the front door behind her. Mark was being absolutely ridiculous, and sensitive as usual. If she wanted to act like that– if he wanted to act like that– then fine. But she wasn’t ever going to play his game. As far as she was concerned, Katrina didn't exist. It was all a load of bullshit.