Chapter 10

Chapter 10

As the election drew closer, Reagan’s time rarely went unspoken for. It seemed to the feminized man that the few moments not riding in the back of a car, nor attending whatever meeting, speaking engagement, or photo-op said car was driving to, were entirely spent getting pretty in the morning, or maintaining that beauty at night. Aside from that, his only escape was in the dreams that flooded his mind on the rare occasion he could stay asleep long enough to have one. He enjoyed the campaign trail, grabbing hold of people’s attention and not letting go was always something that appealed to him, but the rest of it, his disguise, tainted it.

After a particularly long day of grating interviews, where Reagan sat in a little room, speaking with reporter after reporter, answering the same questions again and again, until he felt like his face was turning blue. When he finally arrived home for the day, he collapsed back onto his new, white chaise lounge decorated in ruffled lace, his skirt rode up over the top of his hose, as he slid down in the reclined seat. A brief moment of panic was quickly assuaged by the realization that he could finally stop worrying about protecting his “feminine modesty” as Eva had kept reminding him to do between every reporter, though he had no idea why. If anyone was aware of how little fabric stood between an uneventful boiler plate meet and greet which he could leave no more embarrassed than when this whole ordeal began, and a scandal answering the tabloids’ question as to whether or not candidate Demir had undergone “the surgery” yet.

‘How much longer must I suffer this humiliation? I might as well drop out now, and go live the rest of my days on top of some mountain.’ he thought to himself, sliding off his heels.

That day he wore three-and-a-half inch navy stilettos, shoes he appreciated beneath a woman’s shapely legs. The sound of them hitting the floor was once titillating, but now it was just the sound of his own footsteps.

‘No, Reagan, don’t get down. You’re not a quitter.’ he thought, beating back those dark thoughts. ‘This will all be over soon enough, and once you get that seat, you don’t let it go until you’re on the way to the White House. Eva did say it was a dead heat after that last poll, and that one was from Fox News. Okay, what’s tomorrow? Something about disability awareness, or was it the police union?’

His thoughts shifting to his campaign helped draw his mind away from himself, as he got comfortable. Closing his eyes and rubbing his silky smooth, nylon covered leg against the other in an attempt to ease some of the pain was a sensation he particularly enjoyed, though not one he would admit it to others.

‘That new little girl running reception at the office, what was her name again? Adele, like the singer.’ His lipstick covered lips smiled thinking of the attractive young woman. ‘She sure had a sexy…’ but the rambling inner monologue never finished. Eva would’ve killed him for skipping his nightly skin care routine, even daring to sleep in makeup, but Reagan didn’t care. He was out like a light.

Reagan felt on top of the world, he had just won his race to become a senator and now was examining himself in a mirror as he adjusted the knot on his tie. Grabbing a comb he ran it through his thick well-trimmed blonde beard, making sure every hair was in place before moving on to do the same with his sculpted locks. Satisfied, he stepped out into the banquet hall to make his acceptance speech. In what felt like both an instant, and an eternity, he gave his address, and the room erupted in cheers. Afterwards, the people lined up to each shake his hand, one at a time, telling him how amazing he was. One of the many coming to thank him was his office’s petite receptionist in a figure hugging red dress. Adele gave a flirty smile and mouthed the word “backstage” before disappearing into the crowd. Every other person he spoke with headed to the back of the line to wait for a second chance to see him. It felt empowering, and with the offer from the pretty little thing it was also arousing.

Suddenly, a blonde woman with a short professional hairdo, dressed in a nice ladies’ skirted suit, approached, and told Reagan what an “amazing, and powerful person” he was, then whispered in his ear, “and so absurdly handsome to boot.”

From there the room grew darker, and the murmuring of the crowd quieted to a hum that faded further into nothing. The woman slipped the single button on her blazer free, and opened the garment. Her blue eyes blinked slowly, her long lashes fluttering, as she touched the top button of her white blouse, tailored to fit her feminine assets. Reagan watched with interest, as her gaze grew more lascivious with each loosened button. One after the other coming free, she exposed more of her ample bosom. She freed herself from her brassier, yet somehow her breasts remained perky, in defiance of gravity. As sexy as she was, it was hard for Reagan to focus. He couldn't quite place her. The captivating blonde was familiar and yet unknown. The feeling was unsettling.

The mood shifted, and a cloud began to hang over the empty dark room that seemed to have no walls, the clouds themselves seemingly going on beyond the horizon. It was an eerie atmosphere, but each of the oddities were either ignored or unnoticed. Despite the vibe, the pair's romance proceeded, as they leaned into one another for their first kiss. He felt her pouty red lips press into his own, her left hand resting on his chest as if she wished to feel his quickening heartbeat. Something in the back of Reagan’s mind told him that something wasn’t right, but her soft flesh pressing firmly against him made him shove that thought to the side. Reagan wanted her, and she wanted him. What could really be wrong with that?

He held the blue eyed beauty in his arms. She was a little taller than him in her heels, so he had to lean his head back slightly as they kissed for a second time. His right hand rested on the small of her back, while the other caressed her cheek. As they parted his hand moved to cup her breast, testing the waters for something more. Grunting, he felt his manhood stir, and as they touched one another Reagan kissed her again, this time it was something far more intense. Touching her lips with his tongue as she opened her mouth to welcome it, the kiss growing more and more passionate.

A second later the hot blonde, who seemed to know exactly what she wanted, climbed onto the bed in his bedroom, the change in location unnoticed, as she climbed up on her hands and knees, beckoning Reagan to join her - to come conquer her. No longer was she in her suit, partially undressed. Instead she wore only a pair of navy blue lace panties, beige stockings with thick patterned welts at the top, and a pair of, what he thought were, sexy-as-hell six-inch stilettos.

Something in the back of his mind told him that despite the alluring image they created, the fact that they didn’t have a platform meant they would probably be hell on his feet. Disregarding the stray thought, he slid his hand over the calf of one leg, as he stood next to the bed. His hand slid up her thigh. Something like a pur escaped her lips as his fingers clenched her rear tightly.

He couldn’t remember getting undressed, but he didn’t need to, as he slipped out of the only thing he wore, his boxers, to expose his rigid member. Climbing up onto the bed beside the vixen, he kissed her once more. Reagan’s toned body was a contrast to her own soft and curvy form.

“You are exactly what I needed.” he told her as the kiss ended.

“And I need you.” Reagan heard her say, though he heard no desire in her voice. Instead there was a longing and a sense of sadness that he didn’t quite understand. When he reached for her panties the sexy woman pulled away slightly, a look of worry on her face that he wasn’t prepared for.

“Wait! I can't…”

The sudden rejection came from nowhere. She seemed ready to go not a moment earlier. Without a word, he watched as she gazed off to the side, swallowing hard before nodding. “I’m on my… Is anal okay?”

The confident woman that was practically demanding sex just a minute before sounded unsure of herself. That nagging voice telling him something was wrong came back, but he didn’t let it bother him. It sounded like she might be having her time of the month, or maybe even that was just her excuse for preferring the back door. No matter what it was, he was sure she’d be moaning his name before he was finished.

“Anything you want, beautiful.” Reagan replied, still unsure of her name.

Shifting on the bed, he kissed her on the lips, then the side of her neck, then he worked his way down. Reagan moved behind her, squeezing her sexy little ass once more before sliding her panties down and lining up his cock to penetrate her. As Reagan felt himself slip into her warmth, the blonde’s body grew taut before loosening up so he could go a little deeper.

His own bedroom felt foreign, suddenly. The furniture looked the same, other than a small table with a mirror attached, covered in cosmetics. The bed also wore different sheets. Between them, and the pillowcases, each a shade of peach, he thought they might be in her bedroom. It felt odd that their apartments would look so similar. In the mirror across the room he could see the blonde’s sexy face moaning with each thrust as her eyes rolled into the back of her head in ecstasy.

To Reagan she looked to be enjoying himself just as much as he was. A tear ran down her cheek. He started to fuck her harder when he saw his cock was moving her to tears of joy.

As they both grunted together, and each approached climax, Reagan suddenly had an epiphany. He’d met the woman before, but couldn’t quite place her. Given his many conquests, it’s no wonder a few slipped through the cracks of his memory, but this particular one was eating him up. That nagging feeling swelled in his mind the nearer he got to filling the sexy thing with his seed.

They edged closer and closer, but somehow he still found himself distracted, unable to let it go, until suddenly, like a lighting bolt, the haze around his new fuck-buddy cleared. Her face was so familiar because it was his own. That nagging feeling blossomed in his mind, but he was too close. He needed release. He couldn’t stop thinking how wrong it was, but another thought was stronger, just how incredibly hot she was, this was. Reagan couldn’t help but cum right then and there.

Reagan arched their back as they felt the man’s cock press in deeper, along with another unfamiliar sensation of a warm fluid filling them. It was at that moment Reagan realized who they had been in bed with. The man was him, or who he used to be - who he was supposed to be.

They had gone to a political event, someone had won their race, and they needed to support him. Eva said he needed to flirt - to treat the man like he once wanted pretty young women to treat him. It was important to make the man happy. Reagan wasn’t sure why they went right to taking off his blouse, but something pulled him along, almost eagerly.

Flirting with the man felt wrong, but that had nothing to do with him. It was just the fact that Reagan didn’t want to flirt with any man. All they did was follow the directions. Next thing, they were kissing, and the next moment they were in bed together.

That was when Reagan realized he needed to get away. Things had gone too far, but just outside the bedroom door he saw Eva, whispering, “Keep going, you have to.”

Afraid the man would discover his secret, Reagan searched for a lie, but couldn’t bring himself to say he was on his period. He wound up asking the man to fuck him from behind, as though that was somehow better. The worse part was it felt so good - so so damn good, but with each thrust that feeling was matched by an equally overwhelming sense of shame. Tears ran down his cheeks as his own ecstasy reached its peak, and cum erupted into the panties that hid his sex, only the rear of the flimsy material pulled down to welcome the unwelcome guest.

Falling down atop the bed, the man vanished - he vanished, leaving Reagan alone in his bedroom, panting from a fuck that he suddenly realized was a figment of his imagination. He knew then it was all a dream. The lucid truths came to his sleeping mind, like how wrong the dream was, and also just how hot it was.

Reagan startled from his slumber on the chaise lounge, the sun not yet in the sky. A cold sweat was pouring down his face while a thin milky substance stained the crotch of his panties and hose.

“Fuck.” he said to no one. Many details of the dream were already slipping away. “I really do need to get laid.”

Reagan shook his head, and while he could hardly make sense of the foggy memory, he knew he’d just experienced the weirdest dream of his life.