Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“Wow, you look like hell!” Eva said bluntly, as Reagan made his way into the campaign office fifteen minutes late. He had been eternally punctual, so the tardiness was notable to his oldest friend, but she decided to keep a lid on it after the obvious annoyance at a little playful ribbing.. “I told you to use those Preparation H wipes in the morning if your eyes were puffy. I know it sounds gross but it works, trust me. Just don’t use them on your butt first. It’s a normal thing for a woman like you to do.”

A little chuckle along with the joke, Eva hoped to break the tension, but Reagan’s expression remained unchanged.

“I’m not a woman!” he shouted suddenly, collapsing his head onto the desk, where Eva swore that for a moment she actually heard him whimper.

Speaking straight into the hardwood, he whined, “I did, and it’s not the first time, Eva! I just haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.”

“Bad dreams?”

The blonde’s head shot up, a thin red line now imprinted into his forehead. “No, of course not. Why, what do you mean?”

“I just mean, it’s important that a young woman, such as yourself, get her beauty sleep, you know?”

Seeing the arrogant man, or the once arrogant man, appear so frazzled amused her, but Reagan that disheveled did nothing to help her plan. He was her horse in this race and she had her eyes on victory.

“I’m not a young woman, Eva, I’m a man.” Reagan jerked his head, shuddering with a sickening feeling, as he felt the breasts jiggle in his bra, hidden modestly behind his tasteful blouse.

“Calm down, Reah.” the campaign manager replied anxiously, eyeing the doorway to see if any interns happened to be standing a little too close. She closed the glass door and drew the blinds. “That’s not something you need to be saying, Reah, especially not out loud. You know, you really need to take some time to yourself. Every great figure does. George W Bush likes to play farmer, and he even paints nowadays. You should take a night out on the town. Politician or not, you’re young, and it's important that the voters know that blood still flows through your veins. Your age has been the foundation for your platform after all, even before.”

“Eva, you’re not going on about this again, are you?” Taking a deep breath, he sat up to look into the woman’s golden eyes. “I’m ready to set up a few interviews in the office. We can stage a few photo ops, and fill the guy - the beard in on the rules. Arm candy is fine. I don’t need to actually go out on a date.”

Arm candy was a term Reagan used a hundred times before, but this time it would be a handsome young man whose arm he’d be dangling on. His nausea had no end in sight.

Eva continued undeterred, “Reah, I’m serious, a night out could be good for you, not to mention, if some tabloid photographer snapped a few halfway scandalous photos, it would sell our story organically. Nothing too risqué, just a single woman enjoying a night out with a potential suitor. She has one too many drinks, and the kiss goodnight lingers, just enough time for them to get a good shot, and then you and the gentleman say goodnight, and you get in a taxi. All I have to do is leak the info to a contact, and the rest will take care of itself.” She paused for a moment, touching her index finger to her chin. “It would also look terrific if the two of you got into the same cab when you left.”

Reagan was tired of having the same conversation over and over. The week before Ryan had given him a folder filled with headshots of four men, their information printed on the backs of the photos. It all seemed like they were auditioning for the role of “fake boyfriend” on a TV show.

Reagan only looked at the first image in the folder, a man that stood six-foot-four, with a square jawline. It mentioned his hobbies, one of them horseback riding. The beleaguered politician rolled his eyes at the idea of strutting around with a self-styled cowboy. That was as far as that exercise went. The idea of picking a man, like a horny girl swiping through a dating app, repulsed him.

“I still don’t think we should do this. I know - I know, Eva, I haven’t even looked through the whole file. Maybe we give it another week?” It was a question asked where once before it would have been an order. The auburn-haired beauty’s face gave him his answer. “Fine…” Reagan closed his eyes for just a second before shaking his head at the idea of choosing a male suitor, fake or not. “I just can’t do this. Can’t you just take care of it for me?”

“I’ve already got the perfect guy in mind.” Eva answered before Reagan could keep going.

“Great,” he said sarcastically.

“Down to earth, professional, successful in his own right, and he looks great in a suit. He’s perfect for you.”

“How perfectly perfect that you found a man perfect for me.” came the deadpan response.

Pressing her lips straight, Eva locked eyes with the skirted man at his desk. She didn’t glare, just held his gaze for a few heartbeats. “A little less snark please, missy. Just meet him for dinner, maybe have a glass of wine or two. When was the last time you ate well?”

Between half starving himself, and an absence from the gym, Reagan had dropped several pounds, the constant rumbling of his stomach an ever present reminder. “That I will give you. A drink and a decent meal is something I need.”

Nodding with a slight smile, Eva continued. “While you’re there the two of you could share a delightful, intelligent conversation where you both can discuss the mutual benefits of spending more time together, in the public eye, yes, but you’re going to have to get close to him as well. You being in a healthy, normal, heterosexual relationship is integral to our strategy, so he’ll be just as important to this team as Ryan, or myself. We’ll get some good press, and you can let yourself be treated like a princess for a change. I promise, it isn’t so bad sometimes. All you have to do is sit there, look pretty, and enjoy a nice daiquiri. What do you say?”

“That this conversation went downhill after the mention of good food and wine.”

Reagan made a show of grumbling, but didn’t push back any further, despite the distasteful idea. He would do anything to win, that he had already shown, and this was just another step down that road, though at this point he wished he could just sell his soul to the devil instead.

That Friday night Reagan found himself standing outside of a fancy Italian restaurant, awaiting his date’s arrival. Regardless of how much Eva insisted it was a business meeting, it certainly didn’t feel like one, and he didn’t like that one bit.

He tried several times to come up with an excuse to back out, but his campaign manager wasn’t having it. When the day arrived, his grave was already dug when the redhead followed him home to help him get ready for the evening.

Reagan was very aware that Eva was an absurdly attractive woman, but at times it was easy to forget she could be a girl. She seemed to delight in the act of giving her friend a makeover, something she hadn’t done since college. Thinking it best to keep it from Reagan, Ryan had told her earlier that day that there was a new 4-chan meme going around about “tranny Hillary Clinton” and she knew if that narrative wasn’t nipped in the bud, it would eventually find its way out into the mainstream, as those things always did, not to mention Rey’s head might very well have exploded if he heard of any comparison to that woman. The outfit chosen was a staunch departure from Reagan’s usual faire, and while he’d been dressing in a decidedly feminine manner for several weeks by that point, never had he worn something so downright girlish.

The dress somehow had more fabric than any other garment he owned, but covered as little skin as was appropriately allowable. It was a little silk, spaghetti-strapped number, falling just short of mid-thigh, fit snugly at the bodice, showing plenty of Reagan’s cleavage, firmly held in place by “boob-tape” while the billowing skirt spilled out over its sewn-in crinoline. The pink fabric shined under the awning lights, decorated on the outside with a layer of floral print organza.

To accessorize the frilly confection Eva kept it simple. Button earrings went with a pair of blue fabric pumps, and the last piece, a strand of blue ribbon tied around the feminized man’s dainty throat, a much softer choice compared to the nail typically wrapped around his wrist. She even got him to let her put his hair up in hot rollers, and when all was said and done his blond locks were full of fun, flirty curls. For the first time, instead of all business, no nonsense, Reagan looked like a candidate someone could have a cocktail with.

To Reagan, it felt like an eternity on display, like a twirling ballerina in a music box for all to see as they walked by. His mind went back over what he endured to get him there. The boob-tape reminded him of bondage tape. It might have shared a similarity with his favorite kink, but it was one he wasn’t thrilled about, not that he was thrilled about his breasts to begin with. He had to wear little pasties over his nipples, something he’d only ever seen on strippers. It was like wearing a push-up bra without the bra ruining the lines of the dress’ fabric. While Reagan normally appreciated the silhouette such accoutrements created, it only reminded him of that odd dream, a place he didn’t want his mind to visit.

While standing there looking the way he did, it might have felt like an eternity, but in truth it had only been a few minutes. That’s when a handsome man, late twenties or early thirties he guessed, approached.

“Hello there, Reagan.” the man greeted, a sly grin on his face, as he eyed the pretty girl leaning against the wall, clearly miffed by his tardiness. The flirty little dress, those blue skyscraper heels, and the little matching ribbon - it showed him the effort put in for their encounter and he enjoyed the fruits of that labor. “It’s Elias. Nice to see you.”

“You’re late.” Reagan shot back coldly, glaring at the dark-haired man.

His classic good looks practically begged a second glance. As he sized the guy up, his disheveled mop hung down in a perfectly sculpted creation, worked on for half an hour to look as though it was anything but. Still, he definitely had style. The scrutinizing candidate appreciated the tailoring on the bespoke suit, but the all black motif left a lot to be desired. It was a little too GQ for the potential spouse of a politician.

‘Negative points.’ Reagan thought, deciding to treat this like an interview. In a way it both was, and it wasn’t, but keeping it all business was the only way he was going to get through the evening.

“You’ll live.” Elias replied with a wink, completely unfazed by the sharp tone of his date. If anything, he was kind of into it. “Shall we?’ he asked, opening the door, and holding it for the lady.

Not used to a potential employee speaking so frankly, Reagan nearly blew his top right there, but managed to keep his lid on. Causing a scene, dressed as he was, was something he wasn’t sure he could deal with, regardless of how accustomed he’d grown to skirts. Without a word, he stormed into the restaurant, the pout on his lip doing nothing to reduce his date’s interest.

After the two found their seats, a server quickly approached to take their order. Just before Reagan could open his mouth, Elias took the opportunity to order for the both of them. “I’ll have an IPA, and the lady will have a strawberry daiquiri…” he then shot a wink to Reagan, before handing the menus back, “...to match her dress.”

For the **** ingénue, it was upsetting to be treated like a helpless damsel. It was enough to bring a soft blush to his cheeks from the embarrassment, though he had to admit that that’s exactly what he’d do if the roles were reversed. It’s what a real man was supposed to do after all.

Being on the other side of it felt wrong. After a moment’s pause Reagan decided that if he were to be on the arm of someone, for appearances sake it would have to be a real man, a man’s man. Elias had finally managed to get his score out of the hole.

“So tell me about yourself.” Reagan said, getting the interview started. “What’s your deal? What do you do? Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Elias leaned back in the leather seat, sizing up the sudden interest in his date’s expression. Reagan definitely seemed more inviting, and far less scary, and while most would have found that more attractive, for the man it was a move sideways at best. Five years was a long way out for a first date, but his sister had been bothering him about settling down, so he decided to give it a chance.

“I’ve been called a bit of a workaholic, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to have fun. I just happen to have the most fun making money. Behind that it used to be going out to the clubs, but as I’ve gotten older I’d say number two is probably Netflix now.”

Reagan checked ambition off his mental checklist. Also, given that the guy seemed to have a relatively quiet home life now, a scandal seemed less of a danger than before.

“Tech, by the way. That’s my field. As far as five years, I’d say ask me in five minutes. My answer is always changing. I just know I want to be richer than I am today. How about you?”

“I’ll be entering the fifth year of my first term in the senate, obviously.” Reagan replied, incredulous that the man would ask.

He was handsome by modern standards, or so he imagined a woman might judge him. It wasn't that Reagan was so insecure in his manhood that he couldn’t admit another man was attractive, but he’d been losing his masculine footing ever since he had been wearing pumps. Still the brunette man should have known the answer to that question before he asked it.

‘Negative points. What other reason would the two of us be here for?’ Just then, the waitress returned, dropping off their beverages. That was when the switch flipped, and Reagan’s political mind knew it was time to win over yet another young voter. “That looks so yummy!” he said in his newly ingrained voice, his demeanor morphing into that of a sweet, charming debutante. “Thank you so much! Don’t forget to vote for Reagan Esen Demir in November.”

The waitress was charmed, and by the end of the conversation she walked away with a brand new candidate in the race. At first Elias was a little unsettled by the sudden shift in Reagan’s mood, unsure of what to make of the two separate people that seemed to be crammed in the sexy woman’s head. The cold, blunt person he’d first met didn’t seem like she would be much fun at all, but he just hadn’t seen the whole picture yet.

At first the snooty Miss Demir seemed like a stuck-up prude, done with him before the conversation even started, but seeing how **** she was to move what amounted to just one inch closer to her goal had Elias recognizing a kindred spirit. In his experience, very few people ever demonstrated that kind of ruthless determination, becoming someone else entirely to achieve their goals. He just didn’t know just how right he was about that.

“Okay, Reagan, no bullshit, tell me why you want to be a senator. Why are you in politics?”

“I want to be of service to my fellow Americans, and I want to make America Gr…”

“I said no bullshit.” he interrupted, chuckling to himself, and taking a pull from his beer.

Reagan began to grow angry again, unused to someone having the gall to interrupt him, but again, he’d have done the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot, so he decided the guy deserved an answer. He took another long sip of the daiquiri. It had been months since he’d had a drink, and he’d lost so much weight that he was beginning to both enjoy, and feel the girlie drink far more than he’d ever admit out loud.

“It’s a stepping stone to the White House, just like my law degree. Everything I do is a step towards my real goal. I want to be president. I want to create the ideal model of free-market economics that the cuck liberals don’t know they need. I want to be the greatest leader this country has ever known, and I want them to be saying my name in a hundred years. I want to be a Thomas fucking Jefferson, not a Millard fucking Fillmore, and I will crush anyone or anything that gets in my way.”

As his rant went on, and the **** coursed through his veins, before he realized it, Reagan was standing beside the booth, and waving his arms as he made his compelling and impassioned speech to the man still sitting - a man who was now the quietest he’d been all night.

The conversation began with the arrival of one drink, but by the time Reagan had really gotten going, drink number two was coursing through his system, and a third was in hand. It was a drunken diatribe like many the ambitious politician had made before, but with all the new vocal training, his tone was less like a conservative evangelist, two steps shy of a full blown nazi. His words still carried the same impact, but instead of one of those intimidating figures he sounded like an adorable mouse dead set on world domination. That just happened to be the exact conversation to drive Elias wild. He might have been playing it aloof when he arrived, but in spite of himself, he was falling for the girl, and falling fast.

“...and now you have my vote, and then some.” Elias muttered, slack-jawed, his hands halfway up in surrender before remembering the situation, and composing himself, though his growing erection persisted as it fought the leg of the boxer briefs its girth was tucked into. “Hu-hum… I mean… your platform is certainly enticing.”

Reagan giggled to himself, a flirty feminine act, the drink washing over him. He was still sober enough to know he made a little scene, but fortunately the other bar patrons thought it funny. A pretty blonde could get away with a lot apparently. Elias’ sudden speechlessness was especially entertaining, and the sadist inside of the intoxicated politician had to twist the knife a little further.

“How’d you get here?” he asked, plopping back down in the seat, the smoothing of his ridiculously short skirt fortunately functioning on auto-pilot at this point.

“I drove.” Elias answered, unable to keep himself from laughing at his own joke, only to get a raised eyebrow for his efforts. “Honestly though, I guess I decided to pursue my career in high school. “I made the mistake of watching porn in my dorm at boarding school, and my roommate caught me in the act. I tried to cover the screen, but it was too late. He told me he didn’t care if I wanted to watch two dudes go at it, but the look on his face made it abundantly clear to me he found it hilarious, apparently enough to let the whole school in on the joke.

“I was at an all boys school so just the simple act of showering became a risk. Maybe they’d just all glare at me and cover themselves with towels, but sometimes I’d get my ass kicked, just to remind me of my place. Needless to say, I smelt usually like shit until I graduated. When I left that place, I swore that one day I was going to own all of those fail-sons. Got a computer science degree to learn the lingo, and then I went to business school. I did it all on my own. I mean, sure I got some help from my parents to get started, but I did it all on my own.”

It was an honest answer, and one that caught Reagan off guard. He was expecting a bit more cat and mouse, but instead Elias seemed to have turned one-hundred eighty degrees, and was now eating out of the palm of his hand. That was a dynamic the feminized man liked, though if he’d realized exactly why the tides had changed he may not have been so happy. He was also amazed he didn’t pick up on what he suddenly realized was an important detail.

“Wait, you’re gay?!”

“Not exactly.” Elias shrugged. “I like everyone.”

“So you’re bisexual?” Reagan asked.

“Not exactly,” Elias repeated before moving on to explain. “I used to describe myself that way, but I found a better word for it a couple of years ago. I’m pansexual.”

“Pan-what now?” One of Reagan’s arched eyebrows shot up.

“Pansexual. It means, I like all kinds of bodies, but I’m most turned on by the person - who they are, so to speak. I’d never heard the term until a couple of years ago, and after doing a little reading, it became apparent that that was exactly me.”

“That sounds…complicated…” Reagan replied, processing the new information. The idea of being attracted to a personality befuddled him. When he was balls deep in a pretty little thing, he was far more interested in her breasts than whatever she had to say. “Wait, you’re not a democrat, are you? You’re not like…woke?” he asked, the bad taste of the word sticking to his lips, one that had been lobbed at him as of late by the people who used to form his base.

“Eww,” the chiseled man replied, a look of disgust washing over his countenance, “absolutely not. I’m supposed to pay a higher tax rate just for being smarter than everybody else? I don’t think so. Hell, I haven’t even implemented a DEI program over at Assistive Technologies, and until the government comes in there armed to make me, I never will. That’s not to say I don’t think trans women are women. I mean, clearly they are. Just look at you…”

Elias kept talking, but Reagan didn’t hear any of it, or the last comment might have hit him like a physical object. He stopped listening when he heard the name of the man’s company, and the gears in his **** brain slowly began to turn.

Cutting him off mid-sentence, Reagan interjected, “Wait, you own Assistive Technologies?”

“Indeed I do. Accessibility technologies for the workplace are a great field right now. We make it so everyone, regardless of the body they’re stuck with, can work forty hours a week, and contribute to the economy. I made a boat-load last year, and I got a pat on the back for “doing the lord’s work” because of it.”

“I’m familiar. Last year you guys went public. I heard your initial offering was, in a word, bonkers.” Once more Reagan laughed out loud. Three drinks in, weighing less than he ever had before, he was thoroughly intoxicated. Suddenly the motivations of his potential beard no longer made sense to the drunken skirted man, if money wasn’t the driving ****. “Wait, so why’d you come out with me then?”

By this point in the evening, Elias wasn’t too far behind his date, and the booze had him answering candidly. “Well, Eva called and asked, and of course I was skeptical when my sister tells me she’s got this friend and yadda yadda yadda, you know, but she’s family, so I thought I’d throw a dog a bone, but I guess I’m the one eating crow because you are anything but a dog.”

“Elias Arnoult!” Reagan shouted, pointing his index finger in the man’s direction as he processed his eureka moment, though one far less impressive had he not been thoroughly sloshed. “You’re Eva’s brother, Elias! I haven’t seen you in years! Weren’t you shorter?”

“In the flesh!” Elias answered proudly, and loudly. “I’m sure that’s because she always speaks as though I’ve never grown up. I mean, I’m older than her.”

“This is crazy.” Reagan muttered to no one, collapsing back onto his seat, this time failing to smooth the skirt, causing the hemline to slide further up his shaven legs, the blonde man’s head bouncing off the back of the booth, though he hardly noticed. He was too busy trying to make sense of all the new information. ‘Why’d she want me to hire her brother? He’s fucking rich. This gig is only going to pay what a congressman’s mistress might earn for her silence…or is she smarter than I realized. I mean, this is a big secret to keep, and it probably is best if we only bring in people we know we can trust. Who can be trusted more than family?’ Reagan nodded to himself, pleased like he had just put together a difficult puzzle, though he trusted his own family as far as he could throw them. “Okay, Elias, the position is yours. You’re hired.”

“I’m hired?” Elias replied, confused.

“As my boyfriend, of course. I’m very busy with the election, and every little victory helps, plus your sister seems to think I need to get out more, and while I don’t agree on that note, I do respect her judgment, so therefore, I think we should keep seeing each other. Mutually beneficial, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh I agree!” the man answered, wanting to wipe the table clear, and to take the sexy creature right then and there, but he knew that wasn’t very electable, so he kept himself in check, smiling back to his new object of his affection, as he dreamed of the day he’d finally get some private time with her.

Everything he’d told Reagan was true. He was attracted to personalities. While most people wanted kind, sweet, and caring. Elias was into something else entirely. The gorgeous woman he’d just met propositioned him for another date as though she could take him or leave him, equating it more to a business transaction than anything romantic, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. That was the exact kind of thing that seemed designed to hit his mind in each and every erogenous zone at the same time. It wasn’t what he’d planned on happening, but that night he found a new queen, one he’d be willing to serve and follow all the way to the highest office in the country if she’d have him. His smile only grew, as his imagination painted pictures of them serving each other’s carnal needs.

An hour later, and the two spent time together which Reagan would describe as “finding common ground with a new ally”, and Elias would describe as flirting. Either way, the two were having a blast, but there was always work to be done in the morning, and the candidate had a reputation to protect, so they called it a night. The conversation had been more engaging than Reagan could have hoped for, and with all the drinks, it wasn’t until it was time to leave that the feminized man realized they had spent the evening exclusively drinking, unintentionally forgoing the promised meal.

“Next time,” Reagan tapped his long nailed finger to the table, “you’re buying me a steak dinner.” Elias happily agreed as they made their exit.

As originally planned, an Uber was called, as they stood outside, saying their goodbyes. Reagan might have been tipsy, but he had the wherewithal to notice the not-so-subtle photographer with a telephoto lens sticking out of a nearby bush. Thinking fast, he cut short Elias’ diatribe on migrant workers.

“Shut up, and kiss me goodnight.” the feminized man ordered, thinking back to what Eva mentioned that morning in the office.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Elias said, wrapping both arms around his pretty date’s narrow waist, and then lifting her up before planting a lingering kiss to her soft plump lips. The way she demanded the act sent a thrill down his spine. He couldn’t stand women, or people in general that told him what to do. Even as a child he didn’t like being told to clean his room, but being asked was a different story, just like Reagan’s command to fulfill her carnal desires was different as well. She knew what she wanted from him and he wanted the same thing. Elias’ eyes closed, and fireworks went off. He felt a warm rush in his chest, knowing, in that moment, that he never wanted to let the girl go.

Reagan, on the other hand, clenched his butthole as tightly as possible until the moment their lips collided. Once that was done, the scary part was over, and instead of the sky falling down like he feared, it just felt like kissing an elderly aunt - not really enjoyable, but a thing he had to do sometimes that wouldn’t kill him. In the future when he remembered the moment, with less **** in his system, it would turn his stomach, but for now, there was little to it.

It was a performance for the camera, Reagan going over each moment like a checklist. ‘Kiss, check. Wrap my arms around his neck, check. Kick foot backwards, and dangle my shoe off the toe, check. Pull back, and look longingly into his eyes, check. Damn, I’m good at this. Maybe I should’ve been an actor.’

The suggestion was so absurd on face value that Reagan couldn’t help but smile, but it gave Elias a much different impression. ‘Oh, thank god she had a great time. I can’t wait to see her again.’

When he pulled into the parking lot, his mind drifted back to a horrible first encounter with Reagan many years prior. He thought he’d at least finally get his sister off his back. They might not have had the closest of relationships but they cared for one another, so he could appreciate on some level why she was pushing him to settle down. It was supposed to be a favor for her, but at no point did he think that his sister was the one actually doing him a favor. Taking her home tonight would be ideal, seeing her tomorrow would be wonderful, but his schedule was too packed and he imagined it would be similar for the would-be senator.

“So I’ll call you? Can we do this again next weekend?”

‘Interview is over, next meet up would be actually a date, a fake date, but… fuck I’m actually going on a date with another man. Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then everyone will just think it is an actual duck… date… kinda the point, I guess.’

Reagan’s thoughts raced, as he blinked a few times before realizing he left the question unanswered.

“Sure, but you need to start growing a beard before then…” A smile crossed his lips at what he thought was a good joke, a beard for his beard. “Beard beard.” Reagan laughed, the thought not translating perfectly from his **** mind to what fell out of his mouth. “OH, and,and keep it neat…and tidy. You know? Also, comb your damn hair. I can’t be seen out with some shaggy hippy. If this is going to work, I need a real man.”

“Of course, for you I’ll grow two.” When she insinuated his shaggy locks made him look the free-love type, and then mussed his hair by running her fingers through it, Elias felt something electric at the casual touch.

‘Good man,’ Reagan thought to himself before giving his best friend’s brother a smile, and taking a seat in the back of the waiting car. ‘Way to be a team player.’

That night, Reagan fell asleep in the living room again, and it was back to dreamland. There he was, beard and all, and there she was, Reah’s plump ass waiting. He entered her from behind, and she moaned in pleasure, groaning for more as she said his name. The two faced a mirror where he got another good look at her face. Suddenly Reagan’s perspective shifted, and she tried to move forward - to step away, but the man’s hands held her firmly by the waist. There was no getting away, but instead of the terror of being fucked, she gave in to the deep need inside of her, as she watched herself in the mirror get plowed by the manly incarnation of herself. She decided to let him finish, and to just sort out the complicated mess that went with it all in the morning, that is if either of them remembered.