Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Reagan sat in the passenger seat of Elias’ car, looking down at his phone, or more precisely at his nails, as they drove to the campaign office. He was still amazed at how the almond shaped white tips feminized his hands so effectively. The trip to the nail salon was only a few days before. The experience felt relaxing at the time, but after he just couldn’t stop from hyperfocusing on them. In the past he had gotten manicures and pedicures, not something a good deal of men were even willing to try, but he knew grooming was important for anybody in the public eye, regardless of gender.

Adjusting in his seat, he tried to ignore the tender flesh of his backside from the previous night's escapades. Reagan glanced over to the man sitting next to him. A light blush came to his cheeks before he quickly pointed his gaze out the window.

‘Last night was my choice…’ he thought. Even his inner monologue sounded whiny to him. The excuses he gave himself when he was horny felt paper thin, and at the same time he couldn’t deny that he didn’t just enjoy it, he had loved it. ‘Am I gay?’

The judgmental feminized man tried to dismiss the idea as ridiculous. The thought of a cock didn’t excite him, though thinking about what Elias used said cock for did. Trying to distance himself from it, Reagan thought back to some of his old conquests. Both the raven-haired girl in that red evening gown climbing all over him, and the brunette that practically begged to swallow him whole, both morphed into him as he transformed into the form of his most recent conquest.

Reagan realized he was staring at Elias again, nearly breaking his neck as he turned away, a crimson blush shining brightly beneath his makeup.

“Hey…” Reagan started, before **** on his own tongue, tormented by his carnal desires. Shaking it off, he tried again. “You’re always sleeping at my place. It might be best if…”

His voice trailed off. ‘I’m one of the best orators of my time, and I can’t tell the man I’m paying to be my… who is fucking me, to sleep at his own place.’ Only Reagan could curse a failure, and somehow inflate his own ego at the exact same time.

Elias smirked. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

That caught Reagan’s attention, but the two had been on the same page so often that he reasoned it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“With everything going on, a little more space might be helpful.” Reagan felt a weight lift off his shoulders, as Elias pulled into the parking lot.

“Hmm-mm. I completely agree. My place has a good deal more space than yours, and better security as well.” Elias cut the wheel as he pulled into a space. “I have actually been thinking about this for…”

Elias bit his tongue. Not long earlier he was having doubts, but those doubts were blown away after his queen practically demanded he fuck her the night before. In the time since he’d gotten to know the new Reagan, he knew she was cautious with her heart. While her feelings for him were apparent, he still feared pushing her too hard, and scaring her away.

“I might have already had Kenneth make space in the master bedroom closet for your things.”

In an instant Reagan suddenly realized they were having two different conversations. “You are talking about moving in together?” That’s when he knew that the two were somehow on the opposite page, if there was such a thing.

Soon the campaign would be over and win or lose he would no longer have a need for a beard. He did hope the two of them could remain friends, but at the same time he wasn’t sure how that would look to the public.

“Wait.” He held up a finger, ideas clicking into place.

Reagan knew Elias wasn’t an idiot, so he reasoned there must be more to the idea. As of late the two stayed together almost every night, so moving in together was the next logical step. It was the best way to cement to the public that they were a real couple.

“I have an interview today, and letting it slip that we’re taking the next steps can only help. No one would think we are just… well, you know.”

“A good idea.”

Elias didn’t particularly care for having his personal business broadcast to the world.

He only wanted to live with the woman he loved, and the constant commuting was becoming rather inconvenient. Unfortunately that woman was a public figure, so he’d have to make sacrifices, something that didn’t come naturally to the man, but he loved her so much he’d give up nearly everything for her.

‘That sneaky bitch!’

It was at that moment that Elias realized he’d given Eva everything she wanted. She’d been trying to get him to settle down for years. When she realized her pestering wasn’t going to work, instead she went and set him up with the perfect girl. It was both incredibly sneaky, and also incredibly welcome. One thing was certain. He was never going to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how right she was.

Offering a pleasant smile, Reagan shook his head. In his mind Elias’ idea would help his campaign, and the man was willing to sacrifice his privacy for it to succeed. After taking off his seatbelt, Reagan leaned over and gave Elias a tender kiss, feeling his beard tickle his own smooth face. There were no thoughts of performance. Elias had just made him happy and Reagan wanted to show his appreciation.

After a farewell the two parted, Reagan’s internal crisis forgotten. With a sense of accomplishment, Reagan strode confidently in his heels, a happy smile on his face.

“Morning team!” he said, cheerfully greeting the room.

The staff was hustling about, mostly on phones reaching out to constituents. Nobody seemed to be slacking as the campaign raced towards the finish line. On the way to his office he was met with several people, all needing him for some urgent task, and none understanding how much the candidate appreciated time in the morning to collect his thoughts. Despite being the lowest on the totem poll, the intern with coffee in hand for Reagan was the only welcome sight.

Then there was Eva with her thick leather binder, and a less-than-pleased expression on her face. Reagan loved his old college friend, not romantically, or at least he did at times. Sometimes she drove him nuts. Her mood that morning told him it was going to be the latter.

There was the analyst and advisors sent by Albert Amancio, that while incredibly helpful, there was no mistaking who they really worked for.

Lastly, there was Ryan Davis, the ambitious young man that had proved his worth countless times. He’d even gotten his girlfriend in on the scheme. It was her that stayed up late, creating the flashcards for Reagan’s crash course in womanhood.

The girl didn’t seem to know the truth. The friendly green-eyed blonde was eager to help, but, to Reagan, she seemed a little dim. While he could appreciate her efforts, he hated those flash cards more than anything else in the world, especially since he now knew more about women’s clothing that would ever want to.

That day he had chosen an ivory, seamless, balconette bra to go with a semi-sheer, white, sleeveless, scoop neck top, a calf-length, red accordion skirt, and white, slingback, three-inch shoes with a flare heel. He found it inane, but it had helped him avoid another incident like his last public embarrassment at that awful press conference.

With a soft smile on his red painted lips, Reagan nodded to acknowledge the intern, Amy Jo. The girl seemed to be a true believer, with a sitting congressman for a grandfather.

“Of everyone here…” Reagan let his practiced soft voice trail off a bit as he held the young woman’s gaze, thoughts of what he would like to do with her further from his mind than anything. “You are the most important.” he said, accepting her offered sacrifice of caffeine.

Taking a sip of his drink, Reagan pointed to Eva. “Talk in five.”

He then turned his attention to the three men he thought of as “the suits”, their only notable feature being how bland their personalities were. Blending into the furniture is what made them the perfect lackeys, but Reagan was versed enough to know that it was also what could make them the perfect turncoats.

“Give me twenty and then we can sit down for forty.” Reagan blew some air through his pouty lips, to cool the hot beverage. “That way I can give you the attention you deserve.”

When Reagan’s focus moved to Ryan the bespectacled man glanced down at his tablet, ready to speak up before being relegated to obscurity, like he felt he had since the three interchangeable suits joined the team.

“I have your recent poll numbers, and I thought we might see if we could…”

Ryan’s words were cut short by a tall man with a shaved, who seemingly thought of Ryan as of little more importance than a gopher. “Don’t worry, we’ll cover that information when we meet later.”

Shifting his blue eyes from Ryan to the man, Reagan didn’t correct the incivility. He thought the young Mr. Davis would need to learn to handle people like that if he wanted to make it in politics, but that didn’t mean his loyalty, the exact kind of loyalty Reagan needed, should go unrewarded.

“You should join the meeting.” he said, motioning to Ryan. “What else did you have in mind?”

Ryan could easily be considered a confident person. He didn’t let his father push him around before or after his parent’s divorce. When the man disappeared after losing his job for showing up drunk, he knew it was probably the best thing for his family in the long run. It was still a loss, hardening his heart, which only began to recover after finding the love of a kind woman. That fact, plus education and the opportunity, afforded him his position, and the chance to establish himself.

The three men that joined the team made his job easier, but the way they tried to push him to the side rattled him.

“I believe there could be some benefit to revisiting that school from the ad. Part of your platform has been pointing out that other politicians seem to only view their constituents as props, and we shouldn’t create an opportunity for someone to cry hypocrisy. I already spoke with the school, and they’re willing to welcome you for another visit.”

“I like it. Set that up.” Reagan peeled away a stand of hair that had gotten stuck in his lipstick. “Actually, see how we are doing with funding and see if you can find a charity - one for children would look best. We can funnel money through it to donate to that school and a handful of others in the area. Clear lunch debt, school supplies - that sort of thing.”

Shifting from one foot to the other, Reagan glanced in the auburn-haired beauty’s direction to verify her thoughts on the matter. Her delicately arched eyebrow raised told him what he needed to know.

“Get me a few lines for a statement.” Reagan said, not addressing anyone in particular. “Something about kids being the future, government responsibility, and needing to learn from past mistakes, yadda yadda yadda. Just nothing too specific.”

Donating money for clout sounded on brand for Reagan, as far as Eva was concerned. For just a moment though it took her by surprise. It was so close to something he had said when they were younger, up late, and a bit drunk, talking about what they’d do with the power to make real change. She liked to believe that was the real Reagan, the person she had hitched her wagon to, but she knew it was naive to ignore everything else he’d done since then.

“Let’s add some about continuing to work with the governor to support our future. People like to think of children as the future.”

Snapping his finger, Reagan pointed to his campaign manager. He knew she was a gift. “Yes! Make it sound like we are already working on a project with the state, like our victory is a foregone conclusion.”

The meeting over, Reagan finally made it to his desk, as his eyes wandered around the room. On the wall hung his bachelor’s degree right beside his law degree. On another wall was a painting he received as a gift from his mother, someone he thought of as a harsh woman, but also one of the strongest people he knew, at least when she was alive.

The painting portrayed the point of view of an unknown, holding out their hand as Theodore Roosevelt passed a torch, with Abraham Lincoln standing behind him. Continuing down the line was Thomas Jefferson, and lastly George Washington. Each figure was immortalized in stone atop Mount Rushmore. Having decided his path at such a young age, it was a high school graduation gift.

An old girlfriend once described it as arrogance fuel, but what he saw was his mother pushing her son, telling him that his dreams could become a reality. For some reason as he took it in on that particular day something felt off.

Opening his laptop, he was about to log in when Eva barged in without bothering to knock.

“Couldn’t wait the five minutes?” Reagan asked.

“We need to go over your itinerary, like the interview this afternoon.”

Smoothing his skirt, Reagan sat down in his chair.

“Yes, actually I had something I was going to let slip.” Reagan said, using air quotes. “Elias and I thought it would be a good idea to move in together - to make that next step in the relationship. Keep wolves at bay, as it were.”

“Oh? The two of you are going to move in together? Reah, it sounds like you might have found true love.”

“Ehhh...”

A train of thoughts ran through the feminized man’s head. Love turned into making love, and he was again reminded of the sex from the previous night. He thought of the first time he took Elias into his mouth, and the first time they shared a kiss. It was only a split-second as it all raced by, but it left a blush to his cheeks nonetheless.

“Don’t start with any of that gay shit, Eva.”

Putting her hand on her hip, Eva gave her feminine boss an even glare. “Nothing is gay about a loving relationship between you and my brother. Though phrasing things like that makes me think you haven’t learned anything over the last few months.” You and Elias deserve each other.”

She thought back to a time when she teased her older brother about how cute he looked cuddling on the couch with his boyfriend. She was surprised when he dressed her down for “making it sound gay” something that struck her as odd considering she knew they were sleeping together. She did want him to settle down and be happy, but she also knew how much of an ass he could be, just like Reagan.

“I have learned plenty.” Reagan spoke in a harsher tone, opening his desk drawer to pull out the girly flash cards, along with three books on the subject of being transgender in one form or another.

Who’s Afraid of Gender, a book about the right wing movement against what they described as gender ideology, The Transgender Issue: Trans Justice is Justice for All, an introduction to trans politics, and Beyond Magenta: Transgender and Nonbinary Teens Speak Out, that one about six transgender or gender-neutral young adults that were interviewed for a glimpse into their lives.

“I can see things I didn’t before, and missteps, but for fucks sake Eva…”

Reagan’s voice lowered to a shouting whisper. While it was harder to hear what was going on in that office than what was happening outside, he still didn’t wish to broadcast what he was about to say.

“I’m not a woman, I’m not trans or… well, any of that. I made some bigoted comments before and those hacker fucks ruined my life over it!”

Unimpressed with the shift in attitude, Eva placed her hands on the desk, looked Reagan directly in the eye and spoke frankly.

“You speak of ruin, but have you ever once considered your part in destruction?” She already knew the answer, so she continued. “Personal belief only matters in what it can be sold for. Those were your words, and YES, I know you were being sarcastic, but you’ve let your true thoughts slip out more than once! You chose to push an anti-lgbtq agenda to play to the god-awful scum usurping our party!”

Pressing his lips together, Reagan crossed his arms. As he felt his breasts above them, he decided to let them hang. “Sounds like you’re on the side of that koala hacker group.”

Tilting her head back, Eva sighed. This person in front of her had the ability to change the world. He had the charisma, and had great ideas to make it happen. She knew he wasn’t perfect, but things she once ignored had only grown worse with time. Here he was acknowledging a problem, but he still couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge his responsibility in it all.

“I woke up this morning and chose an outfit I thought was cute… Cute, Eva! That was the literal thought in my head as I got dressed. I’m living as a woman - a trans-woman every day of my life. Eva, I’m a fucking MAN!” he struggled not to shout. He tried not to think about the part where her brother fucked him with gusto, his ass still a little sore from the pleasurable experience. “Do you know what it’s like pretending to be something I’m not just so I can…” Frustrated with the entire subject Reagan waved his hands in the air, the golden nail bracelet that twisted around his wrist bouncing around. “I see a woman in the mirror, I feel my chest bounce and sway as I walk, along with…” His voice trailed off, as tears crept into the corners of his eyes.

Taking a step back, Eva shook her head.

“Dysphoria - you are experiencing gender dysphoria, Reah, and you are so close to understanding.”

Taking a deep breath, Eva exhaled slowly, as she met Reagan’s deep blue eyes.

“Early afternoon you have to meet with the journalist. It shouldn’t take long, and then late afternoon we have the event under the I4 freeway. You know, the one with food trucks for the construction workers. You don’t have a prepared speech, but I should remind you to mention that they’re the lifeblood of the state. Then you have to hit the phones, and make some outreach calls so the public can hear your pretty voice.” While rage boiled beneath the service, her voice dripped with sugar on each word.

“Got it, anything else?” Reagan asked, noticing the slow shake of Eva’s head before she walked out of the room.

As she left, Eva stopped and turned back around to say one more thing. “Oh, I forgot, Reah. I made a few calls and got your diplomas and certificates updated. Thought they would be a nice set piece for the interview. Alright, I will leave you to it!”

After that she vanished back down the hallway with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“What?” Reagan asked, but the infuriating woman had already left. Putting both feet together, he stood up from his chair to see what she was talking about. It was a slight change, hardly noticeable if he wasn’t looking for it, but each piece of paper now read, “Miss Reagan Esen Demir”.

Left alone to reflect, plagued by the feelings that had been tormenting him all morning, he began to see what Eva had been talking about - how he was close to understanding. As he began to understand, it felt like a nail in a coffin, and he needed to claw his way out before he was buried with no escape.

He rationalized, ‘Things are different for me. This wasn’t a choice… well it was, but it was the only real option if he wanted to stay in the race. No, focus, focus, focus. I’m Reagan fucking Demir. Just push yourself for another week. One more week of lipstick, one more week of high heels, and one more week of…’

“Nope. No, no, no.” he said out loud to himself.

Reagan shook his head, as his mind drifted to Elias’ warm body pressed tightly against his under the covers. The physical manifestation of a revision to his past staring him in the face, as well as the intrusive thoughts of sharing his bed with a man, and everything that came with them would have knocked him on his ass in a time before it all became so normalized. Instead, the thing that pushed him over the edge hung silently on the wall of his office.

He had been unable to find his father’s pocket watch for what felt like ages, the instinct to pull it out of his when he felt anxious never satisfied, and it was like an exposed nerve for weeks. Then it turned up there suddenly, displayed in a shadow box for him to see, but not touch.

Eva had told him how she wanted to do something special with it, all while keeping it safe. She chose to decorate the outside with a little inscribed plate, reading, “Remember the past, but be yourself to shape the future.”

It felt like a punch to the gut when he first read it, doubly so when his friend said, “I’m sure your father would be proud of you, Reah.” In his heart he knew his father would be appalled at the new direction his son’s life was taking.

‘Focus, Reah.’ Reagan told himself, slowly closing his eyes, before turning away the wall.

He needed to distance himself - distract himself, so he turned to his work, ignoring everything else, including the unwanted nickname that had somehow wormed its way into even his own thoughts.

Sitting down at his desk, he crossed his legs at the knee, feeling ****, like he was being pulled down a path instead of leading the way. Powering on his laptop, the feminized man pressed his lipstick-covered lips together, very much wishing to get something done, before anyone else in the office forgot who was in charge, and barged into his office.

Other than the odd encounter with his campaign manager, the day went relatively smoothly for Reagan. Soon enough he found himself sitting in a chair across from a woman whose years he couldn’t really pinpoint. He would describe her as an aging woman, **** to hold onto her youth, as evidenced by her taught, plastic-like skin.

He was originally to be interviewed in his office, but the reporter insisted on using the staff working as a backdrop.

“So,” the woman began, with what Reagan could easily spot as an insincere smile, “you’ve done quite a few interviews this election cycle, covering everything from your platform, to your home life, and even your transition.”

After the heated conversation with Eva hours earlier he wished the woman would discuss anything else.

“Today, I was hoping to talk with you about your past, and how you got to where you are now. Demir, where is that from?”

Delving into his past wasn’t something Reagan was comfortable with. It wasn’t like there was something to be embarrassed of. Hoping to avoid a tearful confession of hating his pubescent body, Reagan expected the topic to evolve past the subject of his heritage.

“Demir is Turkish. It means Iron from what I understand. Both of my parents were actually from Ankara, Turkey, though they didn’t meet till some years after they separately moved to New York.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t strike me as Turkish.”

Ignoring the casual racism, Reagan responded to the comment as if it was a question. “Each of my siblings share my lighter skin tone. We’re Americans, part of the greatest melting pot in the world. My mother, Annisa, I believe was part Dutch, or possibly Irish. Or that could have been my father, Esen? You know, where my ancestors came from has never been that important to me. Race is just a cultural construct anyway, not to say its impacts aren’t felt.”

He feigned ignorance, cringing inside, as he parroted ideas of international feminism he’d picked up from one of the gender theory books he’d been **** to read. Reagan had to stop himself from droning on, fearful he was beginning to sound dangerously close to liberal.

“I personally think people should be judged on their merit, and nothing else.”

“Hmm.” The reporter, Sarah McKinley, made the sound as if she hadn’t already prepared her next question. “I understand your parents got divorced when you were thirteen, with you and your younger sister, a… Caroline Lina Demir, relocated to Florida with your father. Being separated from your two older sisters, Heather Azra Mauro, and Victoria Sage Demir, who I understand recently began using her maiden name after her divorce - was it difficult to be pulled from those I imagine you wished to emulate growing up?”

Her laying out his sister's full names made Reagan adjust in his seat. It showed the woman had done research, confirming the question about his surname was for show. He had to be careful with any subtle lies, and avoid mythmaking.

“Divorce is hard on everyone involved. Our parents made sure that not only did we understand that it wasn’t our fault, but that we felt that way as well. Not a luxury a lot of children of divorce are afforded.”

He tried to pivot from her question without getting into the actual ugliness that took place.

“That said, I made a choice to move to Florida with my father, just like Heather and Vicky made theirs. Callie was the only one left to the whims of the judge, that decision stripped from both our parents, and her. I would imagine it was one of the hardest things she had to deal with. Every boy and girl looks up to their older siblings in their own way. Love is what binds a family together. Distance can make things harder, but it isn’t enough to truly diminish love.”

Hands folded in his lap, Reagan failed to contain a self satisfied smirk.

“Well said.” Sarah replied, hitting pause on her recording device. “If you don’t mind, I have to answer a text, and I was hoping when we were finished up I could speak to some of your staffers.”

Waving like a gracious ruler, Reagan nodded. “Be my guest, on both fronts.” It became clear that the woman had an agenda, and the fact none of his team knew in advance put him on edge. While the reporter looked at her phone, Reagan did the same.

Reagan: Alright, who the fuck is sarah mckinly!?

Reagan: She’s done her research. She’s definitely got an agenda

Eva: I can pull you away for an emergency

Ryan: Interview was setup and vetted by the suits

Reagan: …

Reagan: Yeah, pull the rip cord on this

Placing her phone back into her purse, Sarah looked over to Reagan. “I’m so, so, happy you are open to speaking about your private life. You know, not a lot of people in your position would be so willing. I actually set up a bit of a surprise for you, and I think you’re going to like it.”

With his phone still in hand, Reagan only gave the woman part of his attention. “How can I say no to something when you build it up like that?” he said, an awkward chuckle following.

When he looked up from his phone he saw a young woman bulldozing past an underpaid staffer, trying to prevent her from interrupting his meeting. To his utter shock. his younger, and not-so-little sister stepped inside, a smile on her face and her arms wide open.

“Callie!?”