chapter 8

Chapter 8

A groan escaped Reagan’s lips as he began to stir awake, his mind foggy. His body felt sore, his sides crushed, and the weight on his chest felt like a child was sitting on him. The sleepy man tried to ignore it, but as soon as he turned his body the pain that shot through every fiber of his being refused to let that happen.

“Ugh…” he groaned, feeling that weight pulled the direction of gravity, causing the waking world to flood his senses, punctuated by his rigid member straining against the sheets.

Morning wood wasn’t new to Reagan. When waking up with a sexy little thing next to him, it was the perfect way to start his day, but not on this occasion. His cloudy mind couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was though. It took him a few tries, but he eventually managed to flutter his extended lashes, opening his eyes to a reality he’d rather not face. Sunlight beamed through the window and he rolled onto his back once again.

He could taste the lipstick on his lips and the weight of the pearl earrings in his ears, sighing deeply. His eyes focused, taking in the room. Reagan could tell he was in a medical bed, though the thread count of the sheets told him it wasn’t a typical hospital. The room itself was small, with a flat screen tv on the wall, as well as a smattering of posters, giving cliffnotes on the types of procedures the facility offered, more for marketing than information. Turning his head he noticed one for rhinoplasty behind Eva, sitting in a plush, black leather chair.

“Eva?” Reagan croaked, his throat sore and parched.

His mind, trying to reboot up after the **** cocktail, was slow to make sense of anything, but the second he said his friend's name things started to fall into place. Any relief he might have felt was short lived, and as he exhaled, his attention was brought right back to the foreign, and agonizing sensation where his pectoral muscles should have been. The dread that ran through him had Reagan upright in a flash, throwing the sheets off into the floor, the movement shooting pain all through his body.

Without the sheets obstructing his view, Reagan could see a massive set of breasts, firmly affixed to his slender frame. The familiar black corset was wrapped around his waist, though it felt as tight as his first day in it again. A little lower, his fully erect member, the only familiar sight, seemed completely out of place with the rest of the package. “No! No! No! No! No!”

Eva got to her feet, her well dressed body a stark contrast to her practically naked boss on the verge of a panic attack. The idea of Reagan Demir having a meltdown was laughable. He was a man of confidence and control that was ruled by his intellect. That was not the person before her. If not for the male appendage, Eva would think she was watching a woman in crisis, giving in to emotion, ready to break. “Reah, Reah, I’m here.” she said, offering comfort as well as she could.

Reagan’s thoughts raced about in his foggy mind, each of them too difficult to arrange in any semblance of order, all while he kept staring at the perfect set of tits, bouncing and jiggling with his lightest movement. Perfect or not, he knew they didn’t belong on him, and he wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say.”

“Shhhh, shhh, shhh.” Eva cooed, one hand squeezing firmly to Reagan’s, the other running her fingers up and down his forearm. “We need to get you dressed, Reah. The nurses were nice enough to help me get that corset back on so it wouldn’t undo all your waist training.” She didn’t mention how it had been cinched an extra half inch in the process. “I did your makeup and brushed your hair while you were out. I wanted you to look as pretty as you could when you woke up today.”

“To- Today?” Still panicked, he picked up on that one word, the implication being more time than he thought had passed.

Eva nodded. “One of the services they offer is to keep patients under while they recover, to save them the worst of the pain”

She tried to offer a comforting smile. When she came in that morning she planned to sit in the chair beside him, and catch up on some paperwork, but seeing his sleeping form, his new breasts rising and falling with each breath, she couldn’t resist the urge to doll up the sleeping beauty, having him camera ready. Eva thought it might have been best to let Reagan do it, practice makes perfect after all, but she just couldn’t help herself. It reminded her of sleepovers with friends, and **** taken on spying little brothers.

Squinting his eyes at the auburn haired woman, his thoughts started to turn. It didn’t make sense, but as he felt her grip on his hand, her stroking his arm, he thought about what she was saying and his anxiety lowered to a manageable level. Seeing her standing there in a light blue blouse, the long pierced sleeves more for decoration than function, her dark belted shorts, and strappy flats - he was suddenly very aware of how naked he was. Moving quickly, he covered his erection with his hands, but it was already far too late for Eva to not notice. The jerk caused the pain in his chest to swell, and though it wasn’t debilitating, it still was there, unrelenting.

Reagan was still trying to put his thoughts in order, as he frantically reached for the discarded sheets to cover his erection, firm and unrelenting despite his embarrassment. Parting his red lips, with a healthy blush on his cheeks, he was torn between getting the answers he desperately needed and telling her to leave the room. Before he could choose between the two the door opened, accompanied by a few polite, but ultimately useless knocks. That’s when Reagan saw the butcher himself walk in, looking all too pleased with himself.

“Good morning, Ms. Demir, Ms. Arnoult.” Doctor Humphrey greeted. “Well,” he paused to glance at his watch, “afternoon, I suppose.” Things were moving pretty quickly when we last spoke so let me reintroduce myself. I am Doctor Clive Humphrey. I own this practice with my partner Doctor Baker, whom you’re already acquainted with. It seems he had a family emergency and was unable to perform the procedure.

“You might be a bit groggy still, but I can assure you that everything was a complete success. You are now the proud owner of C-cup breasts, which I see you have already been getting acquainted with. While you were under we also added the slow release hormone pellets you requested so you will no longer need the injections that Dr. Baker was giving you. Now, I bet you have a few questions for me.”

Reagan wasn’t the shortest man, standing five-foot nine, but the man towering over him felt like Andre the giant, but with better grooming. While the man loomed over him, spouting off nonsense, he was sitting there with pristine tits, and an erection he couldn’t seem to will away. He wasn’t stroking it, nor thinking sexy thoughts, but there it was.

“I ah…”

It wasn’t often Reagan couldn’t find the words, but it seemed today was just one of those days. It would be understandable, given that the procedures were only meant to take place on paper, and yet here he was, far more curvy than his best friend, doing her best to sooth him while maintaining their ruse.

With his patient fumbling with her words, Dr. Humphrey took notice of her hands and what they were trying to hide. It was an erection, a symbol of male pride to some. He placed his hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. The surgeon imagined it caused a lot of dysphoria, her body as she’d always dreamed from the waist up, contrasting with what must have been an agonizing erection.

“Nothing to worry about, Ms. Demir - Reagan. I’m sure that’s just a simple case of priapism - a prolonged erection unconnected to arousal. I know that can be extremely painful, but it happens after anesthesia sometimes. It should go away on its own, though if it lasts longer than an hour we’ll have to drain the blood. Nothing to worry about though, this is the best place for it to happen. I’ll have the nurse bring some medication for the pain. Other than that, do you have any questions? Please keep us in mind if you decide on vaginoplasty. All we would need is a letter from your therapist.”

“Therapist…” Reagan said the word, feeling like he truly needed one for the first time in his life.

The word vaginoplasty wasn’t exactly in his lexicon either, but it was clear what the large man meant, and he couldn’t help but to squeeze his thighs together to try and protect himself.

The fire built up in Reagan but didn’t make it to the surface. He was too well trained to lose his temper. He knew no one ever really got what they wanted by giving in to their rage. Plus he felt far too small and **** to raise his voice. Thighs still pressed together and a hand covering the rest, Reagan reached up with great hesitation, touching one of the artificial mounds beneath his flesh.

“We had a deal, why… they are just so… c- can… Can you remove them?”

With Reagan clearly not all there, the doctor took note of the corset for waist training. He would bet Reagan must have been practically starving, and that could mean the medication was hitting harder than intended. Ever the professional, he did his best to answer the rambling question.

“Keeping you under for a week was not in the initial agreement, but considering your reaction with the change in doctors, I reached out to your contact.” he said, motioning to Eva, still sitting in the chair.

“She seemed as surprised as you. I’m sorry no one contacted you sooner, but I gave her the option for you to rest and recover here, pain free. As far as going back under…” Dr. Humphrey gave his patient a sympathetic look. Some trans-women woke up happy as can be, if a little sore, but then some were like Reagan, unsatisfied, the new assets not quite as large as they’d pictured. “I don’t recommend you going back under the knife for at least six months. Give yourself time to fully heal and adjust. I think that what you and Dr. Baker chose suits you quite well. Count yourself lucky for the marvels of modern medicine. You’ve already been through the worst of it, and after a few more weeks the pain and sensitivity should be gone. Not long ago it took six to eight weeks to fully recover.”

Seeing Reagan silently cupping one of the new breasts, the doctor nodded. Before leaving the room, he said, “I’ll give it a little time, and then start on the discharge paperwork. Let someone know if her erec… her little problem doesn't subside.”

Completely beside himself, Reagan got out of the bed, his balance off, as it adjusted to the new weight of his new chest. He felt his eyes well up at the sight of his new assets, accompanied by his still swollen cock.

“This isn't fair!” he bemoaned. ‘I’m a freak… I look like one of those…’ He thought of some very unflattering words used for those in the trans community but bit his tongue. “Six months! They butchered me, Eva!”

The shame hit him once again, as he locked eyes with his friend. She was a beautiful woman and here he was on full display, dick, breasts, and all. He noticed a mirror hanging on the back of the door, and he could hardly tear himself away from his reflection, like it was an awfully gruesome car crash. The doctor said his erection had nothing to do with arousal, but the blonde woman standing there bra-less, looking so ****, told a different story.

Reagan struggled seeing the creature, attractive in a way he didn’t wish to be, but he had to admit he was as pretty a woman, as he was handsome a man.

“Hey,” Eva stood up, “It is okay, Reah.”

She made sure to use the feminine moniker she’d chosen, pushing past his obvious distaste for the sound. She needed her candidate to answer to the correct names - to not get upset when someone referred to him femininely, when being a woman was the point.

“Listen to me Reagan.” Her voice was more firm, compared to the soft reassuring tone she had been using. “This can be a good thing. Sure, this wasn’t the plan, but who can say you are faking things now when you have real cleavage?”

When he didn’t respond she snapped her fingers to grab his full attention. Something she learned long ago was that to be sure the man heard you, you needed full eye-contact.

“I’m going to sue them.” Reagan heard what she was saying, but completely missed the point.

“Reah, you can’t.” Eva shook her head slightly, understanding his desire to lash out.

“I’ve passed the bar in three states. I think I can.” He hadn’t actually been to court in over a year, and even then for the former prosecutor, plea-deals were his bread and butter.

“Yeah?” Eva asked, one eyebrow raised. “You had a double major when, getting that pre-law degree, in political science. You worked hard for that one too, because you knew where you knew what your goals were. What do you think would happen if you tried to sue a clinic for surgeries you signed off on? What would that look like on the news? You’ll be crucified.”

Grinding his jaw, he gave the woman a pout, knowing, and hating that she was right. “So, what do we do then?”

“You turn something bad into something good, wave it around like a flag, calling others to your banner, just like you always do, but first…” Eva looked down at the offending phallus pointing at her, a cock that put her old boyfriends to shame. “Take care of that before the nurse gets here with those ****. We’ve got to keep you sharp, on your pretty little painted toes, just in case there’s any paparazzi hiding in the bushes outside.” Eva laughed, turning to the door.

As he took himself in hand, loosely grasping his raging hard-on between his fingers, so as not to stab himself with his talons, Reagan’s mind conjured up an image of a well-endowed blond, slowly stripping off her business suit to reveal sexy red lingerie, and the curves to fill it underneath. She wiggled a finger, beckoning him closer. Just as he was about to reach her, his pace picked up, and with the first quick tug, a wave of pain shot through his new jiggling bosom, and as he snapped back into reality, he thought he saw the blonde again, only to notice he was watching himself in the mirror.

“Those fucking hackers.” Reagan grumbled to no one, choosing to ignore the very bizarre experience he’d just had, and instead dreaming about the day everything was going to pay off. “Six months, and I can get this all undone after I win my seat.” he said, thinking about the future, pressing his lips together, the taste of lipstick doing nothing to improve his mood. It was only then did he realize that he was still extremely aroused, and that he very much needed to hurry and do something about it.