Andrea; Politics As A Female
I had entered the
political race because of some friends’ urging. It is for state
senator in my district. The incumbent James Kincade, recently making
a lot of statements that had pissed off a lot of factions. He
originally got the office because of his family name. His father and
grandfather both were office holders in the state for many years.
They were popular
with the voters, mainly due to their fire and brimstone speeches.
Looking for accomplishments from these two will leave you with
absolutely nothing to show for their combined forty years that they
were in office. In other words, typical politicians. In his first
term, James kept his mouth closed, not aggravating anybody, and
barely squeaked to a narrow fifty vote victory for his re-election.
No bills
introduced, he had not even voted on important legislation that was
before the Senate. Quite often, he was not even in the chamber when
the bills were being debated.
Since then his
financial supporters have put pressure on him to come out in favor of
their causes. Now, in political circles, it is a fine line to keep
your financial supporters happy without aggravating your other
constituents. James has apparently forgotten that principle since
recently he has attacked abortion, gays, transgender, and women who
work. A lot of his constituents in the district felt that in the
upcoming term, some of his taunts might actually get introduced as
legislation.
His statements
were in general terms, but not friendly to any of the groups
mentioned. His support mainly came from special interest groups, ones
that wanted a specific type of legislation to limit activities of
these groups. Unfortunately, there are a lot of these special
interest groups, and they contribute great sums of money to gain
political clout. Now they wanted him to be more upfront with his
views, and visibly support the legislation that they wanted to be
passed into law.
I have been in
politics since my early teens. My mother, the catalyst that started
my political interest. She never made it to state politics, but
served on our local school board for thirty-five years. In this
state, the position is elected, and every four years, she ran a
campaign to get elected. Unlike a lot of other politicians, she made
significant inroads in her career.
She found ways to
lower the budget, most years, without hurting the quality of
education. She pioneered teacher qualifications so that only
well-educated teachers ended up getting hired. She instituted
anti-bullying rules into the school district when the first cases
became prevalent. She served as school board president for
twenty-eight of those years, doing as much as she could to further
education in this school district. This school district had
twenty-two schools, with over twenty-six thousand students enrolled.
Due to her
interest in politics and her insights, I became interested, too,
while in my teens. Our political party had a group of like-minded
young teens that met and participated in many political activities,
and I joined when I was thirteen. At eighteen, I became a state
committeeman in the party attending state conventions of the party. I
served on committees, making recommendations to the state party on
lots of issues. I was a state committeeman for six years, finally
resigning the post due to my employment after I graduated from
college. I still attended the convention every two years, as a party
representative due to my involvement in past years.
The convention
had just closed two days ago; this being a presidential election
year, always an active and dynamic convention. I was approached by a
group of party leaders asking me to run for the state Senate against
Mr. Kincade. Most of the people represented groups that his comments
had been about during the last few years. The group that had
approached me said that they would back me financially if I decided
to run. They didn’t have anybody else to run that they felt would
do the job justice, so one of the groups that knows my Mom real well,
suggested me. It turns out that they had run this by Mom, she just
failed to inform me of their proposal, a frequent trait of her. In
her opinion, if they wanted me, they had to do all the prep work
themselves, not have her do it for them.
I listened to
their proposal, told them that I would think it over, and let them
know in the next few days. After they left, another lady that also
represents a conservative political faction, came over to me. She
warned me to steer clear of that group; they were trouble, and
anybody backed by them would face opposition by her group. She
represented quite a few zealous religious groups, a frequent
supporter of Mr. Kincade, even though he is a member of the opposing
political party.
Well, that just
about made my mind up for me; if I am being told not to run by some
right wing group then I probably needed to run. I had several things
I needed to do though, for one thing, I needed someone to help in my
campaign. Someone that had contacts with voter groups that I may be
lacking in, to balance out my contacts. But first, I needed to
confront my Mom about this. The next night, I showed up at her house,
the greeting at the door signifying that she is expecting me.
I explained my
conversations with the groups so far, and asked her advice. She
smiled but told me, this time, you are on your own. “You have
watched the political goings on for years; you need to decide if you
want to do this, and then how you will accomplish it.”
Mom never pushed
me into things; she planned it out so I would have no trouble if I
did, but never goaded me into doing something. Always, the final
decision had to be mine. I figured I might get this line of thought,
but there was one name I wanted to run past her for my campaign
manager if I could talk her into it. I mentioned Debbie as a possible
campaign manager, and the smile that appeared on Mom’s face is all
that I needed to see.
Debbie is a
college friend, also active in the party politics. We have known each
other for years, studying together, participating in the state
conventions, and were just friends. When I called her later that
night, I found out they had also approached her about my running for
the same office, the group apparently doing their groundwork
thoroughly. I asked if she would go to dinner with me tomorrow night.
“I have some things to ask you, and I need some help in making my
decision to run or not.”
She accepted,
asking if I had talked to my Mom yet. I told her that I had, but not
what she said. Debbie blurted it out, “Well, what did she say?” I
laughed as Debbie can be real blunt at times. I told her, “Mom told
me that this decision had to be mine alone.” With that being said,
Debbie chimed in, “That is what I thought she would say. You know
she wants you to run; she just isn’t going to tell you so.” We
decided on a small Chinese restaurant that is never busy for dinner,
a quiet place with excellent food at reasonable prices.
The next day
dragged on; it seemed the clock actually ran backward most of the day
since the evening took forever to arrive. I had taken a job in public
relations for a large corporation after college. There were three
others in my department, my boss, and two female press aides, all of
them quite good. I mainly did the wording of all the releases, and on
occasion did TV interviews. We ran the public face of the company,
press releases, comments on community relations, participation in
community events and anything having to do with the company and their
customers.
Time finally
progressed enough, for me to head to the restaurant. Debbie waiting
for me there. She lived only two blocks from it, so for her to get
there was not a problem. I got a hug when we embraced, and then they
showed us to our table. We used to eat here often, so the owners knew
us well. Right away, two iced teas were delivered, and Sue-ling, the
wife of the owner, asked if we wanted the usual?
I told her ‘yes’,
and asked if it could be delayed for an awhile. She smiled, we have
to put it on to cook, so it will be fresh, but will take a little
over an hour to finish. I smiled back as she has already anticipated
our needs, and we just got there. It has been about four months since
we have been here last; jobs and careers taking their toll on
activities we used to do weekly.
I brought Debbie
up to speed about the offers of help and the lady threatening me if I
ran. She told me the group is behind you, but fear that you are like
your mother. “You will vote your conscious, not what the group
would like you to do. Mr. Kincade is, however, worse and they fear
that he will do a lot of damage during his next term of office. They
know he has taken a lot of money from the special interest groups,
and that puts him in debt to them. Now he is going to have to support
some of their more outlandish ideas actively.”
We talked for
quite some time, but Debbie never entered into the decision about me
running for office. I finally asked her directly if she thought I
should run. She looked at me for quite some time, before opening her
mouth. That is pure Debbie, not sticking out her neck until she has
thought it through.
“Yes, I think
you should run, there is nobody else that has a chance to defeat
James. I am sure it will be a dirty campaign, full of accusations,
lies, and deceit. To defeat you they will have to dig deep, then
probably have to make something up to keep the people from voting for
you. I have heard from a friend that Mr. Kincade is aware of you
possibly running, so their preparations have already started. You
will, I am sure, regret the decision to run before the campaign is
over, dirty politics never a good experience.”
As the food is
being brought out, I asked her if she will run my campaign, her
instant one-word reply, “Yes.” The food is excellent, better than
I remembered, but maybe not having it for a while made it taste
better somehow. We chit chatted for quite some time about anything
and everything. The campaign, our jobs, and the future we visualized.
We decided to go
back to her apartment, and talk some more about the campaign. After
paying the bill, we walked a couple of blocks to her apartment and
entered. She opened a bottle of wine and told me to get comfortable
while she changed clothes. She came out a few minutes later dressed
in jeans and a sweater. She curled up on the sofa, and asked what I
had in mind for the campaign.
First, I asked
her about her job; she’s a personal assistant to the chairman of a
large corporation in town. She is good at it, and has been ever since
she was hired for the position coming out of college. She runs the
company from her desk, a fact that her father, the chairman,
appreciates greatly. The company employees do not know of her
relationship with the chairman; she uses her Mother’s maiden name
to prevent them finding out. She giggled, “He will just have to run
it a while himself; he is capable, just lazy since I came along. He
is very aware of Mr. Kincade and will be happy to share me with you
for a good cause.”
She asked what I
was going to do with regards to my job; I told her that one lady
could easily handle replacing me, and that the company has already
given me time off to pursue the position. They think it will do them
some good to have a state senator to do their deeds, but I have
already told them I will do what is right for my constituents, not
what they desire.
Like we did in
college, we presented any idea we could come with, then debated its
worthiness. Over the next few hours, a lot of crazy ideas were
discussed. As we made our way through the maze of ideas, my mind
began to formulate a possible strategy. I knew I wanted to run a
totally unorthodox campaign. I didn’t want TV ads, newspaper ads,
or a multitude of debates. One debate a couple of days before the
election would be the best. That limits the number of lies that they
can be presented to the electorate about me.
Debbie began to
see where I was going and added some thoughts to the overall idea.
She thought more along of meet and greet with lots of groups of
possible voters. Then I suggested maybe work with them on a project,
free labor, and maybe a contribution to help them fund the project.
We both liked that train of thought, and soon we had a list of
possible groups and projects to help the campaign.
We both wanted to
do something that would trigger James temper, a trait that he is
widely known for. If we could trigger an outburst where he loses his
cool, that would give us something to use against him come debate
time. I could see the smoke from a mega Debbie idea coming from her
ears, but when I asked about it, she said that she had to check with
someone first before she revealed the idea. In fact, she wanted to do
so tonight, so I had to go. She was giggling and pushing me to the
door at the same time. I have seen her like this only once before,
and that was the time she embarrassed a professor so bad that he
resigned from the university. Later, I learned he had tried to molest
Debbie, going as far as ripping her blouse before she could get away.
Her revenge before a packed classroom probably a college classic by
now.
I walked back to
the restaurant to get my car and then made my way home. I had bought
a small two bedroom home when my father died with the money I
received from his will. He had taken care of both Mom and me with a
five million dollar insurance policy split between us. Mom had put
away money all during their life, and she had more than she could
spend already, so she gave me her share also. I still miss my father;
he always wanted me to excel, knew I would do it in politics and was
a big supporter.
He supported Mom
also during all her election campaigns, he met groups of people for
her, posted signs, even attended some debates that she had already
committed to, but was elsewhere at the time. He never wanted to share
in the victory, his help getting her elected and Mom’s happiness is
all he wanted out of life.
When I got home I
called Mom; I wanted to run something past her for her approval.
“Debbie has agreed to be my campaign manager, that I indeed was
going to run, but I am not taking any contributions for my campaign
from anybody.” There was silence on the other end of the phone; I
wasn’t sure now that she hadn’t commented. She told me to tell
her the rest; she knew that I had other thoughts bouncing around in
that pretty head of mine.
She always
considered me pretty, and told me so many times. It always
embarrassed me, because young men are not supposed to be considered
pretty. She did it no matter what and continued every chance she got.
I told her that Debbie and I were thinking of throwing out the book
on this election bid. Nothing by the book, but maybe something to get
James to open his big mouth due to its temper.
Mom agreed that
would make it harder for their campaign to counter when they couldn’t
figure out what tactic I am using. Then I asked the big question; I
got part way through the question explaining to her that I wasn’t
taking any contributions from groups or individuals, when she told me
that it is okay to use my inheritance to fund the campaign. “For
once, you are using your head for something other than to look
pretty.” She giggled, knowing that would get me going.
She then
surprised my telling me that I needed to take Debbie’s approach to
the campaign and embrace it heartily. It is way off the chart
different, but will guarantee you a win in her opinion.
I asked her how
she knew about it; Debbie is still working on the idea. Mom giggled,
“When you embrace the changes that are needed to win, you will see
the wisdom of the plan. Debbie, another close friend, and I have been
working on this idea for months. Do you honestly think that that
group decided to ask you to run by themselves without a little push
in the right direction? You need to have a little more appreciation
for your Mother and Debbie.”
I told her thanks
for the info, but asked when I, the candidate, is be let in on the
main part of the plan; to be allowed to embrace the plan? My Mom just
said, “Soon, really soon.” She told me she loved me. “In case
you weren’t aware of it, Debbie loves you too, and has for years.
But my pretty dumb blonde son has had his finger up his butt, and
hasn’t been aware of any of this. This is your Mother, and you
better start acting like the pretty intelligent human being that you
are. Now tell me you love me and hang up.” I did.
I laid on the bed
trying to make sense of what she has told me. Debbie in love with me,
how did I miss that? Then, I started wondering what grand scheme of
things they were working on for me. Like usual, I drifted off to
sleep, then I woke once during the night to use the bathroom, and
then drifted back to sleep. I did that often in college too; too much
brain activity and I used sleep as a way to handle the problem.
Luckily, I knew my subjects pretty well since the lack of studying
never really affected my grades.
The next morning
is eye-opening in more ways than you can imagine. Debbie, knocking on
my door at six-thirty, the first. She handed me a pair of pink sweats
and told me to put them on my body. I came out with them on,
embarrassed as hell, but still not awake enough to protest much. She
took out my ponytail and brushed my hair out so that it laid on my
shoulders. Given a power bar and hustled out the door. A short drive
later she pulled alongside the road, got out and handed me a bunch of
black trash bags and an EZ Reacher tool that helps in picking up
garbage.
I stand there in
a daze as she puts the bags in a bright pink satchel and puts the
strap over my shoulder. I start to ask what this is all about, but
then she slips a vest looking piece of clothing over the top of the
sweat suit? I didn’t notice the writing on the back; I really am
not even awake yet. She points ahead to the side of the road telling
me to pick up the garbage and place it in the bag. When the bag is
full, tie the bag and leave it alongside the road for collection.
“You will most
likely have some press soon to take a few pictures of your efforts.
Do not talk to them, just continue your efforts. I want you to spend
at least three hours doing this, and I will be trailing behind to
observe and handle the press. When the pickup catches up with you
later, load the last bag in the pickup and get in the truck. We will
meet for lunch shortly after that, and I will explain if you have
woken enough by then to understand my explanation.” She kissed me
on the lips passionately and then she got into her car and drove off.
I stood there for a couple of minutes, a blank look on my face, then
when a passing car honked at me, I waved and got started.
Over the next few
hours, I used just about all my bags. Numerous press reporters are
taking pictures of me, the red from my embarrassment attired in a
pink sweat suit adding to the pictures they took of me. I turned
several times to see Debbie talking to them and then I heard a horn
honk near to me. The pickup was next to the road, and I placed my bag
in the truck and got in as he drove off. The truck filled with the
bags that I had done, almost to overflowing.
The driver is a
friend of Debbie’s, and he complimented me on my civic mindedness,
also that my sweat suit is so cute. He dropped me off at a restaurant
twenty minutes later, and Debbie met me out front. She helped me
remove the vest, and I then saw the writing on the back of the vest.
In bold print, it said vote Andrea for state senator. I looked at her
then back to the vest then giggled. Yeah, I giggled, now I could see
some of their plan coming together. Unfortunately, at that time I
didn’t see the full extent of the plan.
My given name is
Andrew, so Andrea is just a variation on my name. The pink sweat suit
and the brushed hair made me look like an Andrea, but I didn’t see
how that was going to get me votes. I knew it would irk Mr. Kincade;
that is one plus. Debbie managed to get the press to cover it, but I
didn’t see the tie-in yet.
She dragged me
into the restaurant and back to a private room used for groups. Then
I suddenly stopped, there in the room is my Mother, Debbie’s
mother, my boss, and the leaders of the party that had approached me.
I sat down at a table a little timidly not knowing what is going to
happen. Debbie handles all of the talking, starting off with the fact
that I am going to run for the office. Then in her next breath, the
campaign will not accept any monies from individuals or businesses.
Andrea will finance the campaign herself.
I looked up at
her, the what are you doing look beginning to make its appearance on
my face. We do need your help in other matters, though. Andrea is not
going to run any radio, TV, or newspaper ads. We want all our focus
on meeting people face to face and talking with them about their
concerns and our ideas. The litter walk a first step, tell all your
friends and come join us next weekend. The only caveat is that all
parties have to wear some pink, the more, the better. We will furnish
everything else.
Now did you guys
have any luck getting the petitions signed for Andrea? Several people
got up and brought stacks of petitions to Debbie. They gave her the
total count obtained and signed the state form verifying that to
their knowledge all signatures are valid. She used the adding machine
to run the totals. She smiled, “We now have enough signatures to
file with the Secretary of State to get our name on the ballot.”
One of the party leaders asked how the name change is coming along.
Debbie smiled, “It will be official Monday at Eleven A.M. when
Andrea appears before the judge.”
I am listening to
all of this; I didn’t even know that we had any petitions
circulating to get enough names to file to be on the ballot. The name
change also a surprise. I guess it was a wise decision to make her my
campaign manager since otherwise I would be lost even worse than I am
now. Debbie’s mother asked how the explanation went when the people
asked who Andrea was. There was no problem; we told them that it was
Andrew, but because of what Mr. Kincade had said, she had decided to
run as a female. A couple of the guys wanted to know when they would
get a good look at Andrea, but other than that there is no problem.
I just sat there
dumbfounded; all of this going on and I hadn’t a clue about any of
it! My Mom had the biggest shit eating grin on her face, almost ear
to ear. Mom and Debbie’s Mother took over making appointments for
my help, a possible donation, or a meeting that I needed to attend.
Debbie excused us, and we left the restaurant. She led me to her car,
then helped me into the front seat. A short drive later we pulled up
to a salon in a quite ritzy district of town. All of this time, I
just sat there, way too much info to process; definitely putting me
on over load.
The Senate
district covered half of the city and most of the county, there being
fifty districts in the state. We had more of an urban population and
a smaller district, where some of the other districts had a much
larger area, but more of a rural population. This upscale part of
town is in our senate district, just a part of town that I don’t
often visit. Debbie turns to me, time for you to meet Francine.
We enter the
salon and head back to one of the offices at the rear of the salon.
The sights and smells are totally female. The air smells like
carnations, similar to a sexy woman’s perfume, maybe a little more
flowery. The décor of the salon is way over the top feminine. I
swear there are enough pink objects in the salon to cause a color
catastrophe. Then I notice some of the customers, I am expecting to
see females all through the salon, but blinking twice to make sure my
eyes are not betraying me, the majority are males. They look
feminine, but since they are apparently a work in progress, there is
still a few traces of maleness showing.
Debbie leads me
through to one of the offices in the back, and an introduction to
Francine is made. A tall absolutely gorgeous female that really
commands respect. I attempt to shake her hand, but that is not the
greeting she has in mind. I am engulfed in a massive hug and quickly
find my head pulled to her breasts. The scent emanating from her
seeps into my nose causing me to surrender to her presence. She pulls
back to arm’s length and studies me for a minute, and then tells
Debbie that the choice is the right one.
Again I am lost
to what they are talking about, Francine sees that, and pulls me to a
seat in front of her desk. I guess the prominent part of the plan
needs to be advised and of her role in this great scheme of things.
Debbie sits next to me and Francine starts. She tells me that the
original idea came up during a lunch meeting a little over a year
ago. Since then things have been added, some taken away, but the plan
pretty much stayed intact.
Mr. Kincade made
a few statements to a few prominent people of this district,
essentially making it clear that he would introduce some bills to
make a lot of people very uncomfortable. Those groups he targeted
were the gays, transsexuals, and women who work, instead of being a
housewife. Several of us have kept an eye on the state legislature
and, unfortunately, the makeup of the houses might allow some of his
bills into law. The Governor has always been in the pocket of special
interest factions so he would most likely sign the bills into law if
passed.
With his
re-election coming up, we knew that he would wait until after the
election before he introduced his controversial bills. We needed
someone to defeat him in a decisive manner so that the word would get
out that we mean business, and the people of the state were back in
control. Many a lunch has dealt on finalizing the plan so that we
could now implement it.
Now, from the
first talk of a candidate, your name has been the only choice. All of
the people that know you directly and through word of mouth know you
are decisive; and will vote your conscious, not what special groups
want. I know of you because of my dealings with your mother and
because of your involvement at the party convention. I have observed
for quite some time your actions and your opinions, and I have
complete faith that we are picking the right ‘female’ for the
job.
I started to say
something, but she placed a finger to her lips telling me to wait,
and then I could speak. We knew when we planned this, that you'd be
entering the race as a female, would set him off, the tirade that
will result when we file with the secretary of state will cause his
undoing. With you portraying a transgender person, one of his targets
for his supporting groups; we will have pushed all the right buttons
to cause an outburst. That outburst, played against your civic
actions, your meet and greet approach, and your refusal to take any
contributions, will convince the electorate which is the better
candidate.
Now for your
involvement in all of this. We are aware that no one has asked you if
this is something you want to do. The consensus of opinion among all
of us is that you are truly female down deep inside. I will let
Debbie and your Mother point out instances and actions that prove our
point. I need you to swallow a bit of your pride, and do this for us.
There is more at stake than your pride and bruised ego.
Now we will ask a
lot of you in this transformation, and I mean a lot. When you leave
here, all you will see in the mirror is a young female, quite pretty,
and confident in her role as the next state senator. This is not a
masquerade just to get a victory over Mr. Kincade. This
transformation is for the full four-year term of the Senate.
My technicians
will give you breasts and a vagina of a female, hair extensions, a
hair free body and a wardrobe to suit a female state senator. Other
than what is in your mind, you will be female in all ways. I know
this is a lot to take in; that is why we have waited until the last
to tell you. From what I know of you, I think if you look deep
inside, you will find the true Andrea already exists, she just has
not had a chance to come out. Please take a few minutes to think it
over, I will try to answer any questions you may have. When you have
made up your mind, we will either bring Andrea out, or try to find
another way to stop Mr. Kincade.
This office is
available for you; I will step out for a while when you decide, pick
up the phone and dial 1313 and I will return. As she left, I received
another massive hug, then she closed the door behind her. I looked
over at Debbie and stared at her, causing her to look down. I told
her that I needed the truth from her, no more lies or convenient
omission of facts. She swallowed hard and managed to look at me.
“Do you love me
and will you be my wife or whatever, depending on how I turn out?”
It took her a couple of minutes to decipher that question then she
launched herself in my direction squeezing the life out of me. The
funny part was one of her nipples ended up in my mouth. Now, what I
did with that will just have to remain in a non-disclosed file. The
fact that she hit me with such force that my chair almost toppled
over backward another indicator of her happiness.
Francine heard
the commotion and re-entered the room. She looked at Debbie and I
then giggled. I will leave you two be for a few more minutes, but a
couple of my techs are anxious to turn this pretty individual into a
gorgeous woman. She left again leaving, Debbie sitting on my lap
staring into my eyes with tears leaking from her eyes. She put kisses
all over my face, even a couple on one ear, but didn’t respond to
my question. I just sat there staring back.
Finally, she
remembered that she needed to answer and whispered ‘yes’ all over
my face. First a kiss then a ‘yes’, then another kiss and another
‘yes’. I am sure I had more lipstick on my face than Debbie had
by the time she finally quieted down.
I grabbed both
sides of her face and made her look me in the eyes, asking if I turn
out prettier than her, will she still love me? Well, that got her, I
received a slap to the arm, then another kiss. “We both know that
you will be prettier than me, a fact that I will have to put up with
regretfully. But if I ever catch you looking at anything, male or
female, with lust in your eyes, I will personally castrate you right
where you stand! Do I make myself clear?” I swallowed and told her,
“Yes dear, I understand.” We both were giggling when Francine
came back in and dragged me to my first treatment.
As they were
stripping off my clothes, I saw Francine push Debbie out the door,
telling her to round up some votes, but don’t come back before
closing. Francine stayed for a few minutes, wanting me to be sure
this is what I wanted.
“I am not sure,
for some reason, it sounds like the best approach, like me asking
Debbie to marry me just now. I really can’t put it into words, I
guess Andrea is running the show now, and Andrew is only along for
the ride. I hope this works like everybody thinks it will, the plan
sounds good, but I am scared that I will not be able to pull off my
part of the grand scheme. Along with the new body, I do hope I get an
owner’s manual on the body with the deal.”
I get another hug
from her, and she introduces me to Beth, my stylist for today. Beth
is very talkative, and soon we are in a conversation. I find it hard
not to participate, as we talk about everything. She is a stylist at
their Maryland location, and was flown in to work on me. She knows
about the plan, thinks it will be a hoot, but also thinks I will be
quite comfortable in the role. So lost in our conversation that I
don’t realize that I have no body hair left other than on top of my
head. She told me it is a cream that kills the hair root, allowing
for its removal, then stops the hair root from ever growing again.
As we discuss the
litter pickup I participated in this morning, she moved a large
machine over my chest. Two cups attached to my breast area and sealed
to the skin. Then some fatty solution is injected into the forms. The
pump turned on, started pulling the skin into the cups, Beth told me
I would soon have real breasts just like a female. After the cups
fill, an injection is made into each breast and during the next hour
the breast becomes stable. When the vacuum is released the breasts
stay the size of the cups, the cups eventually dissolving over the
next few days. They will react just like female breasts including
nipple hardening and, of course, bounce all over the place.
For a moment,
Andrew tries to interject his opinion in matters, but is swiftly
dealt with and sent back to his room. The procedure is more than just
a masquerade, real breasts, not easily camouflaged since the cups are
quite good sized. I am scared in a way, but then in the same thought,
I can’t wait to show them off in a low cut dress. Okay, Andrea has
thought this out a lot more than I am apparently aware of, her desire
overriding my concerns. Beth has to shake me to get me to return to
the present, asking me if I wanted a landing strip or just wanted to
go commando.
I look between my
legs, and she has that cute smile staring back at me. Well, what will
it be? I try to get into the swing of things and ask if I can have a
cute little heart. That sent Beth into a fit of giggles, so to get
even for my apparently wrong choice, she slips her hand over the tip
of my penis and the sensation sends my head back sharply to the
table.
“That’ll
teach you to ignore my question!” It took a while for normal
breathing to return, but when it did, I lifted my head and saw only
two soft sensuous lips where my male appendage used to be situated. I
smiled as she did give me a cute little heart surrounding the soft
lips after all. Andrea had won out, for all intents and purposes, my
classification was now as a woman.
Beth moved on to
other things as she moved me to a chair, and started work on my hair.
I had let it grow to slightly below shoulder length. For the litter
pickup, I allowed my hair to be brushed out to lay on my shoulders.
Beth came to stand next to me with two bundles of hair slightly
lighter in color and considerably longer than the hair on my head at
present. Another technician came to help and soon the longer hair is
being glued into my own hair. Beth said that it is being glued to my
hair right above the scalp, presenting a natural bond and will last
till the original hair grew out.
It took them
quite a while, but the longer hair soon became complete. It changed
my looks, making me look quite a bit more like a female. Then Beth
cut all the hair blending the two lengths to make a decidedly
feminine hairstyle. I did get bangs, although they were long and
would normally be brushed to one side or the other.
From the hair, we
moved directly to my brows, some hot wax and they were no longer.
What little that was left arched way above my eyes in an exaggerated
look. Beth seemed to enjoy the next part as she pierced my ears.
Three perfectly aligned holes courtesy of a laser and filled with
very feminine earrings. The hoops were hard to get used too; then she
added a long dangly earrings to the bottom holes that almost came to
my chest. The brushing of the two lower earrings keeping me
constantly distracted as they brushed across my neck and upper chest.
Next, followed
three hours of how to do my makeup. She would show me how to do it,
then I would be expected to do it myself. After we were down to
lipstick, I thought we were done. Nope, clean it all off, and I had
to do it again from the start. Then Beth moved on to clothes, but
before I can slip on panties and a bra, I needed a corset fitted to
my body. I tried to remind her that I run every day, am going to be
doing the litter pickup every weekend, the corset will just get
sweaty and be in the way. The biggest smile came to her face as she
smugly stated, “That is why I got you twelve corsets so you will
always have a fresh one.” The corset is snug, real snug, but I
still could take in a breath or two on occasion.
It did change my
figure significantly though. My breasts seemed larger than I
originally thought since a lot of extra skin and tissue got pushed
out the top of the corset. Same for my hips, I now actually had some
hips. Probably two to three inches larger than before. Then came the
panties and bras. They had assembled me a complete wardrobe from the
skin out for my campaign persona. Everything business like and proper
for an executive. With the panties on she showed me how to get my
breasts into the cups of the bra.
The bra did
conform to my shoulders taking a little of the strain off as the
breast was hanging down from my chest. The best advantage I could see
to wearing one is that it helped with the bouncing. The constant
moving of the tissue did distract me, how could it not? Beth helped
me transfer my things from my wallet to my purse, and then on cue
Debbie sauntered into the room. She took one look at me, then
squealed! Everybody in the salon turned to see what the commotion is
about, Debbie smiled and giggled while I tried to make myself
invisible.
Francine came out
to look also, gave me a bigger than life hug, then whispered, “As
you do your meet and greet, keep in mind who the person inside of you
really is. No quick decisions made, but, after all is said and done,
I think Andrea will be the female entering the Senate chamber to
become our new senator.”
Dragged from the
salon, I had an appointment with a ladies club executive committee in
thirty minutes. Debbie drove me there, the heels that I am wearing
not made for quick maneuvering. I exited her car, straightened my
skirt, and made for the door of their offices. Entering, I introduced
myself as Andrea, a candidate for State Senate; I would like to talk
to them about the election and convince them to support me. They
invited me into a lounge, and we talked for quite some time. Asked a
lot of questions, I answered all of them honestly. Never once is my
portraying of a female brought into the discussion.
I wanted to be
honest with them; I wanted the truth out there if they were not aware
of my circumstances. Ms. Bekins, the president of the club, told me
that they were aware because Francine was a member of their group for
many years. They wanted to see how I presented myself, was I a farce
of the female persona, or was I conducting myself as a young woman
concerned about the election, and the office of State Senator.
Debbie had stayed
silent the whole time letting me handle things as I saw fit. Several
of the ladies gave her names and organizations that I needed to see
and approach about the campaign. I invited them to one of my litter
pickups, but told them they had to be sure to wear some pink. They
invited me to one of their full meetings and asked me to consider
joining their group. They do a lot of fundraising for local
charities, just concluding one for the children’s hospital. I asked
if they met their goal, Ms. Bekins saying they were a couple of
hundred dollars short, but were happy with the turnout and the funds
they were able to raise.
I dug in my purse
for my checkbook, how a woman can find anything in one, is a mystery
to me. I found it and wrote her a check for five hundred dollars.
Before she could say anything, I told her that I was not running ads,
either radio or TV. This is where I want my money spent, on the
people of this community. I am not trying to buy your votes, you can
vote for whoever you wish, but the ultimate winners today is the
children. I gave each lady a hug and thanked them for their time. I
told them I hoped to see them this weekend at the litter pickup, then
turned and left.
Debbie and I made
it to her car, then situated ourselves in the seats. She turned to
me, smiled and asked when did I become such a girl. I giggled and
jokingly asked “Isn’t this what you and Mother wanted me to do?”
The quick nod, as she put the car in motion, the only answer I was
going to get today. Twenty minutes of driving got us to our next
destination. A small non-denominational church on the edge of town.
It catered to the Hispanic people, but there were several races
present as we drove up. Debbie had taken the time to brief me on the
way over; they were trying to build a daycare facility so that
members of their church could have a place to leave their children
while they worked. One spouse’s wage not enough to get by with
anymore.
I got out and
greeted several of the members. They were trying to figure out how
and who to get to put a roof on their addition that they had
constructed. I looked for a building permit but saw none. I
recommended some contractors for the roof, but mentioned that the
county is not going to be happy that you don’t have a building
permit. I could see from the looks I was getting that they were
totally unaware that one is necessary. I took out my cell phone,
called one of the contractors about the roof and asked him to come
out and give an estimate.
The roofing
contractor turned up quickly; his other job happened to be just down
the road. I knew him from some of the political groups he helped
sponsor. I explained what they were trying to achieve and if he could
give them a good bid on the job. The head of the group explained what
they wanted; he made a few suggestions that would save them some
money. While the church members were talking it over he was coming up
with a figure that he could do the work for, I talked to him for a
minute or two. It was my suggestion that if he helped them out by
lowering the bid, I would get him some free advertising.
I did caution him
that by doing it, he might be including himself in some nasty crap
from Mr. Kincade about my campaign. He smiled, “I remember you,
Andrea, although that name is a lot more fitting than what you used
before. No problem, the more he dishes out, the deeper the hole he is
making for himself.” I tried to pay him for some of the work, but
he declined.
You just maneuver
yourself into office, and then at your swearing in I get a kiss and a
hug. I agreed, what is it with all of these guys and their kisses. He
showed me the bid, then walked over to their leader. The bid was very
low; I doubt he would make any money on the deal at that price. He
got a handshake in agreement. Then after telling the others of the
contractor’s bid, he received many hugs and kisses from the
grateful females in the group.
I then called the
county asking to speak with one of the inspectors. I explained the
situation, told them the work so far is to code and asked if he could
check the construction out if he approved could he then issue a
building permit. I told him I would pay for the permit and any
penalties incurred. I told him my name and told him I would hang
around until he was able to get here. He asked if I knew him, I just
let the subject drop.
About an hour
later, one of the inspectors showed up, I met him at his car and
explained everything to him. He looked at the work so far, smiled
then issued a permit. He tried to explain to them what to do as each
part of the construction is completed. I mentioned who I thought the
roofing contractor was going to be, and he recorded it on his forms.
He pulled me aside and asked if I remembered him from college. The
light came on, but then I blushed as I knew he was aware of Andrew,
my current looks far from what Andrew looked like in college.
He mentioned that
he had heard a rumor that Andrew was running for State Senate as a
female, he didn’t believe it until he pulled up. His next comment
surprised me even more. Andrea is one good looking female; I might
just vote for her just because she is beautiful. My face is red, in
fact, most of my body seems to be red. I ask how much for the permit,
and penalties, he smiles I think twenty dollars and a kiss will
settle the bill. Now I am in full blooming red Technicolor. I manage
to get a twenty from my purse and hand it to him. He lowers his head
to my cheek and gives me a tender peck. I get a hug, and he hands me
a permit.
He gets in his
truck and heads off. Debbie approaches me, smiling. “Don’t you
try and deny the fact that you are so girly. No male no matter who he
is could have pulled that off as easy as you handled the situation.
In case you weren’t looking, he had to leave because his pants were
tented out to there, I wonder who had that effect on him.”
We chatted with
the church group some more and told them we would be back when it is
time to paint the inside. Debbie and I got hugs from everybody,
several Gracias, and a kiss on the cheek from several of the men.
Several were planning to help on the litter walk this weekend, a way
to pay me back for my help.
The rest of the
afternoon was spent talking to people in groups, then when we had
caught up with the unofficial appointments, we stopped and talked to
some people on the street. Most were friendly, the females more
interested and listening to my ideas than the males. My breasts did
get a lot of time in the spotlight, a favorite focus of a male’s
eyes. Debbie had cards made out listing the office number we were
using and also my cell phone. We did tell everyone we would not
answer the cell phone after ten at night.
If they had
questions, wanted help in a project or ideas for bills, feel free to
call. Debbie estimated that we had met five hundred possible voters
by six o’clock when we stopped for the evening. When we got to my
house, my land line was beeping with messages. I went to the phone,
and Debbie turned on the TV to get the last of the news. On the
screen was pictures of me doing litter pickup, and then an interview
with Mr. Kincade. He was obviously totally out of control wanting the
people of the district to call for my arrest and incarceration due to
my actions today. How any male can prance around in dresses and
expect people to take him seriously was beyond him.
Then the station
played an interview with the people of the small church. They thanked
me publicly for helping them, mentioning that I never asked for money
or favors from them. They mentioned that all of them would be with me
on Saturday for the litter pickup. Debbie and I hugged and bounced
around the living room. Just like they had planned, I got favorable
press coverage, Mr. Kincade looking more like the bigot he is. The
phone rang, its Mom wanting to know if we had seen the news. I told
her, “Yeah, we were watching it right now.”
“Not that one,
the five o’clock news ran a thirty minute special on your exploits
today. It included an interview with Francine, the ladies club asking
you to join their organization, the small church and an interview
with the building inspector. No mention of Mr. Kincade at all, a fact
that I am sure he is irate over.”
We talked late
that night, about what we had accomplished, Debbie warning me he has
not fired the first shot yet, he will and the resulting mess that
will happen sure to offset a lot of our work. I just told her then we
will have to work harder and strive to meet more people. For some
reason, my appearance and mode of dress never came up. It is like I
have been Andrea all my life.
I went back to my
apartment; we knew that his people would be watching us looking for
anything to use against us. I got undressed and slipped into the new
nightie included in my wardrobe package. I stopped frequently looking
at my image as I went back and forth to the bathroom and the kitchen,
each time the image very feminine. The gals at the salon told me that
I needed to put up my hair at night to keep it from becoming tangled.
Easier said than done; I did manage to get it into a braid, after the
tenth time I had attempted that maneuver. Believe me it wasn’t
pretty, more out of the braid then in it.
Sleep came
eventually, but being awake allowed me to rerun the day’s
activities. When I started yawning, I knew that the day was finally
over, a day that I would treasure for a long time.
True to the
nature of politics the next day started out with numerous calls from
the press wanting my reaction to Mr. Kincade’s latest accusations.
By the time Debbie had arrived, I had a list of more than thirty
claims by him on my unorthodox behavior. The press questions were all
handled the same way.
Yes, I am
transgender, I will dress as a female from now on, and that doesn’t
change my opinion on what Mr. Kincade has done for the voters of this
district, absolutely nothing. I will continue to meet the people of
this district, share my ideas with them, and help them in projects
that affect them.
Debbie hauled me
out shortly after I managed to finish dressing, my complaining that I
didn’t even have my makeup on yet. She apparently wasn’t
listening to me. Then in the car, she reminded me of the court
appearance to change my name. I got, at least, part of my face on,
Debbie laughing at my concern that I had my makeup on and look girly,
since only two days ago, I was a card carrying male.
We entered the
courtroom, a female judge presiding and we sat in the front of the
seats. My attorney showed up soon after that, and a few minutes later
my name was called by the bailiff. Right after that, we saw one of
Mr. Kincade’s cronies enter the courtroom. Debbie pointed him out
to our attorney and she pulled a file out of her briefcase and
presented my case. The cronies stood up and asked the judge if he
could speak to the court. She asked about what, he stated that this
was obviously a means to deceive the voters into thinking that this
male is a transgender and only for the purpose to gain votes. She
listened then turned to my lawyer. She got up, approached the bench
laying a stack of files on the judge’s desk.
She told the
judge that you will find a transcript from two psychologist’s
stating that Andrew is transgendered. Those you will note are from
five years ago. Second, we are not using subterfuge here. The
candidate is approaching the voters only as Andrea, no mention of
Andrew is made or implied. Next, you will find thirty plus references
of Andrea, complimenting her on her resolve and intelligence on
matters that concern the electorate. Most of these references are
from prominent people in government and politics.
Some of these
people knew her as Andrew, but when we asked for the references, all
parties knew exactly who we were referring to in our inquiry. Andrea
just wants her birth records set straight, she is a female in mind
and wants to live her life as such, the name change allowing her to
do it with less stress.
The judge looked
through the papers occasionally looking up from the stack to look
over at me. She told Mr. Kincade’s representative to either sit
down or leave the courtroom. He chose to leave. She approved the name
change signing the document to make it legal. Then she asked if I
might have a few moments to see her in her chambers alone.
I feared the
worse, but Debbie hugged me telling me not to worry. Since I had
nodded my acceptance, she adjourned the court and went to her
chambers. I stood up and followed, knocking on her door before I
entered. She showed me to a seat in front of her desk, and I set down
being careful to adjust my skirt before doing so.
She looked at me
for several minutes, then asked if I had been advised of all of this
before I entered the courtroom. I didn’t lie; I told her of the
things I knew about, but some of the documents presented were not
known to me before the court date. She let me look through the
references, and I am floored at the people that had written them and
what they said about me. All of the people I had interaction with
over the years, but most of them before they gained a more prominent
office in government.
She asked about
the psych evaluations. She handed me the evaluations, and I noticed
the doctor is the same one I saw at my mother’s request before
entering college. I told her I saw the doctor, but I never saw the
evaluations until today. She told me that I am extremely lucky to
have such good friends and relatives, especially your Mother, to
guide you and look after you. She is sure that I have not heard the
last from Mr. Kincade about your change of sex and name change. But
your straight forward handling of things is the best way to detour
his efforts.
Now I have a
favor to ask of you. You are not required to do it, but I think it
might be just the thing to help in your campaign. I am head of the
hospital auxiliary, we often read to the younger patients, play with
the toddlers, stage plays for their entertainment, and generally try
to make their time in the hospital more enjoyable and less stressful.
From time to time we have a lot of kids that are in the confused
gender stage of their life.
Their home life
is usually chaotic, one or more of their parents are not present in
their lives, and the school life they have to endure would task most
of us to the utmost. Most of them bullied or have been, their
appearance often putting them in an unfavorable situation causing the
older students to pick on them and abuse them. I would like to you
just talk with them, not necessarily reveal yourself to them, but
with your unique perspective on both sexes, I think you could counsel
them wisely in ways to be able to live their lives a little more
peacefully.
I told her that I
would love to, but I had one condition that must be met first. She
smiled and asked me what your condition is? I told her at no point
was I to be alone with a child or children, in a political campaign
with a known transgender person, lots of accusations could result. I
don’t care about my reputation, but I would not allow anything to
happen to the child. “I knew when I asked you, that would be you
first thought and you did not disappoint me.” I got a hug, and she
would let me or Debbie know when we could help. I told her evenings
would be best, and I will be there.
I stepped back
out to the courtroom and Debbie, and my attorney are waiting for me.
The attorney handed me my copy of the name change papers and she
left. Debbie grabbed my hand, and we were off. I had an appointment
with a civic organization about their concerns and wishes for the
next year. We arrived early, mostly courtesy of Debbie’s driving, I
introduced myself to everyone, and we talked about issues and
concerns.
Several of the
men were distant never involving themselves with the conversation. I
didn’t want to embarrass them, but I wanted all the feelings and
hostilities out in the open. I approached them asking if I could help
them understand what is obviously bothering them. One guy turned red,
the other sighed heavily and then just blurted it out. “Why would a
male let himself be turned into a female, a second class citizen?”
I saw several of the female attendees frown and clench their fists.
I asked them to
sit down, and I would try to explain this to them. I asked them if
they were married, both nodded. Do you appreciate what your wife does
to raise your family and help in the expenses of the household? Again
they nodded ‘yes’.
The one guy
blurted out you were already in the right sex why did you change to
the weaker inferior sex? I told them that I would not convey that
statement to their wives. There was some chuckling around the room,
but I noticed that everybody was listening to what I said.
Males tend to
think that they are indeed the superior sex, but could you carry a
child and spend hours in labor delivering that child? Could you spend
the time to nurse that child, do the housework, shop for groceries
and still be lovable to you the hard working husband when he gets
home from work? Then before the baby is old enough to go to school,
leave it to the care of someone else so that you can go back to work
to help keep food on the table and a roof over your heads. How many
times has your wife assured that things will get better, that your
crappy boss will get easier to live with, even though she might be
having her period, her breasts sore from the stored up milk she has
to express for her baby in child care.
Then we have what
her job is like, do you ever ask her how her day went? She gets up
earlier than you so she can get the baby ready to drop off, get
dressed herself, maybe make you lunch, decide what groceries she has
to shop for tonight, and the dread going through about another boring
day at work typing correspondence or making notations in customer’s
files.
No, you guys have
it all wrong, your wife is the stronger sex. She is the one that
supports you all she can while not having the same from you in
return. Now, why would I leave the male sex to be a member of that
group? I am a female at heart, and proud of it. I want to care for
people and help them attain the best for them. I want to love someone
and have it returned to me. I want to have and influence a child to
greatness, to be better than I was in my life. What is right for me
is not right for others, I think you should love and adore your wife
and spouse and treat them as equals even though they are better than
you. Imagine what you two can accomplish with her supporting you and
you embracing her and her life. Nothing is unreachable when love
blossoms between two like-minded adults.
Now do you have
any problem with being me transgendered and wanting to live my life
as a female? They both approached me, hugged me and whispered to me
thanks; we needed that, and we will mention your name to our wife’s
tonight when we try to make it up to them. I gave them each a cheek
kiss, both of them blushing but not pulling away.
We were late for
our next group because almost every member of that civic group wanted
to talk and share ideas with us. We promised to come back, help them
formulate a few of their ideas into bills that I might be able to get
introduced when elected.
The next group
was representatives of a gay alliance. Mr. Kincade’s remarks so far
had been the most brutal with this group. Gays and lesbians were
represented here today, both a little hostile towards me. We talked a
little about some of the statements made so far and what we might
expect if he got elected. I pointed out some laws that a neighboring
state had tried to pass, backed by some of the same factions that
were backing Mr. Kincade.
The laws were
aimed at any gay club or establishment, making licensing and permits
requirements so restrictive that they could not open their doors. The
worst bill was a bill requiring a list be maintained of any male or
female attending a gay bar or nightclub. Other than the fact that it
couldn’t be tracked was the fact that any name could be added to
the list just by writing it down. No conviction or charge necessary
to find your name on the list.
One lesbian that
I had noticed was paying very close attention to my actions and
words, asked what my stand would be with regards to gay rights. I
smiled, a perfect opening for my response. I looked at Debbie; she
swallowed hard, not knowing what my exact opinion was on the matter.
I asked the woman her name; she responded Cheryl. “Well, Cheryl
here is how I look at any group that is different from the quote,
normal majority. You are a person first and with that qualification,
you can be whoever you want to be as long as you do not hurt anyone
physically. Gender and lifestyle choices are yours, and yours alone.”
“There is a
fine line if you push someone to make a choice that is not what they
want, but regards to yourself no one can make that choice but you. If
your lifestyle choices are presented in public making other people
uncomfortable, you should be warned and advised to make those actions
more private. Not arrested, not put on some list, just advised. I am
sure that when people concentrate on their own lives and make those
worth living that all people will be able to live in harmony.”
“Now that
leaves it open for you to be a religious fanatic, a conservative,
anti-feminist, same-sex marriage supporter, and pro-abortion under my
criteria. That information is none of anybody’s business but yours.
Any more questions?”
The place was
silent as those words sunk in. Cheryl came over, and I got massively
hugged, she asked if I was a lesbian? I smiled, then shrugged my
shoulders. She grinned, I know, not my business. I thanked her for
her questions and gave her a lip curling kiss as I held both sides of
her face. I then turned to Debbie and told her, “Let’s go, love,
I am suddenly wet with excitement.”
We could hear the
giggling from inside as we made our way to Debbie’s car. As soon as
I got in Debbie was leaning over giving me a kiss that almost brought
me over the edge. As we settled down and made for home, Debbie told
me that Andrew is now officially dead, Andrea is in control and never
will relinquish control again. I didn’t doubt that statement in the
least.
I thought back to
how this has all fell into place. I never dreamed of entering the
race as a female, but now I didn’t see any other way but as a
female, the female that is me. I have accepted my clothes, makeup,
and hair as just a part of the female me. I dress to look nice; I
check my makeup and hair often during the day just as a female would.
Never doubting that I am a female, even though two days ago I was a
male at least everywhere other than in my mind. I think Andrea has
always been there in mind, just had not made any physical appearance
yet.
It turns out our
opponents kept up with lots of new accusations about me. At any one
time, I was gay, lesbian, a child molester, an atheist, a religious
fanatic, you name it, and I was a member of that group out to force
my agenda on the voters of this district. Again on the news, I was
featured and people’s opinions of me were quite favorable. They
even got interviews from the LGBT group. So far our plan was working,
we had spent very little money just some donations to groups.
Debbie had us
lined up for visiting two regional malls tomorrow, walking through
the mall, handing out cards and introducing myself to as many people
as possible. First, though she had me scheduled for a touch up at
Turnabout Gurl Salon at eight o’clock in the morning. Then on to
the first mall.
I made it home
safely, although the last couple of days I have felt a little
insecure as Andrea walking the short distance from my car to the
apartment. Tonight there were a couple of strange cars in the
apartment's parking lot, both occupied by men. As Andrew, I wouldn’t
have had much concern about them, but with a tight skirt and
four-inch heels, I am not overjoyed. When I made it inside my
apartment, I leaned back against the door and breathed a sigh of
relief.
I made a note to
myself to change the nightly routine if I sensed being followed or
had unwelcome visitors at the apartment complex. I had a quiet night
but did peek out the window to see that at least one of the cars was
still there the next morning. I decided it might not hurt to call the
police department and mention that there might be some suspicious
people in the parking lot. I was not the only single female living in
the neighborhood.
I called, and
they sent a patrol car fairly quickly. I saw the officers quiz the
two men parked just down the street, eventually letting them go. The
lady officer came to my door, telling me that the two men were
private detectives hired by Mr. Kincade to keep an eye on me. They
had cameras with telephoto lens, and a sound boom to listen to any
conversations I might have. They advised the men that their plate is
being noted, and any trouble in the area would be presumed to be
their fault. She told me to be careful what I say in the house the
device they had is capable of hearing voices up to a half mile away.
I thanked her for notifying me, got a hug and a promise to vote for
me in return.
When Debbie
called that morning, I mentioned that I had something come up
unexpectedly and needed to leave right away, if the opposition finds
out we are doomed. I quickly hung up and then left the apartment. In
the car I called her on my cell phone and told what had happened, we
agreed to meet at the salon, and I hung up. If their device picked up
the conversation, I knew I could lead them to the salon, then maybe
confront them when I had witnesses.
Sure enough, when
I pulled into the salon’s parking lot, they were not far behind. I
waited for Debbie then walked across the street to talk to them. They
were cool about it, they didn’t try to drive off, their cover was
broken. I asked them how they were doing and if they had anything
interesting yet for their client. One guy had blushed, embarrassed
at being found out. The other guy not really bothered. I asked them
if their client is paying them enough to make a living. His response
not really. I suggested that if they spent the same amount of time on
Mr. Kincade as they were doing following me that what they discovered
would be worth more than he is paying them to keep his secrets out of
the press. The one cool guy broke out laughing, yeah I bet he would
be interesting. He asked me if they found something would I be
interested. Nope, I don’t play that way, anything you find and can
make a buck on be my guest.
If they wanted
pictures of me nearly naked getting waxed in the salon, they were
welcome, but they would have to have the same treatments. I told the
cool guy that he would look darling in a pixie cut, with blonde
highlights, I would even pay for his cut and style. He told me that
he would pass this time, but maybe next time. I handed him one of my
cards and told him anytime. He rolled up his window and drove off.
Debbie and I
walked back to the salon giggling all the way. She did agree with me
he would look precious with a pixie cut. As we entered the salon,
Francine greeted us. She had watched from her office window and
wanted to know what Billie and Pat were doing in the neighborhood.
The laughter that broke out was infectious, all three of us almost
rolling in the aisles. In the ensuing conversation, I found out
Billie was the one driving, and Pat was his sidekick. After I had
calmed down, I told Francine if Billie wanted a pixie cut and
highlights I would pay her bill. That provoked more giggling.
The fascinating
thing about all of this is both Billie and Pat are sometimes
customers of the salon. Francine mentioned that she would suggest to
whoever the technician was next time they come in to suggest a pixie
cut and a total body wax. I thought to myself if they would take my
advice and check up on Mr. Kincade, they might hit the jackpot if
they did.
In my opinion,
they did more than a touch-up at the salon. My hair washed, and then
conditioned, then set in curlers. Under the dryer for my hair, with a
tech to apply a new color to my nails. Of course, the toes to match.
Makeup next, a daytime look that stressed the eyes and lips. All done
in shades of burgundy and pink.
Then she brushed
out my hair, today I received a retro fifties style, what they used
to call big hair. Informed that the style is returning to popularity,
thence if a future state senator was to wear it, it might encourage a
few more to follow the trend.
We made it to the
mall, and just walked up and down talking to the shoppers. We asked
about their concerns, what they felt needed to be corrected, and
about their family. Quite a few conversations, ended up lasting for
more than a few minutes. I noticed that I got a lot of compliments
about my appearance from the females, the males that talked to us
interested more in my breasts since that is all they looked at during
the conversation. We ate in one of the mall restaurants, several
people coming over to talk to us. Apparently, the local paper had
published a picture of me taken at the women’s club meeting along
with an article on what is happening in the campaign. Surprisingly,
it was not a very favorable article as far as Mr. Kincade is
concerned. In the past, the paper has supported him unequivocally.
After lunch, we
walked the mall again shaking as many hands as possible. Somebody
would ask a question, and as I tried to answer it, more people would
join the group. At one point Debbie had counted forty people
listening to my stand on things. Most people were happy with my stand
as I tried to use common sense, and stood against trying to legislate
people to act a certain way. More than once I stressed that everybody
deserves to do what they wish with their lives. No group has the
right to legislate how we act and behave.
I got asked about
criminals; I have always believed that any criminal act should be
punished, and if the penalties are severe enough, a lot of crime
would never occur. Legislation will not straighten this out; we need
to re-educate the judges, district attorneys, and the whole criminal
justice system. The first step is to stop allowing plea deals to gain
a conviction. If they break the law and are found guilty, they need
to serve time. No excuses or special conditions. If they plead
insanity and are proven so by psychologists, they need to be kept in
a mental institution until there is no doubt as to their cure. Not
released early because they don’t have space for new inmates.
That day we
handed over one thousand cards, even got a couple of phone calls from
cards we handed out the day before. I took the time to talk to
everyone, even a student doing his paper on the political system. We
dragged our bodies’ home a little after six P.M. and by seven, I
was fast asleep. Like a lot of women, the first thing I removed when
I hit my apartment door is my heels, having them off felt SO good. I
slept in my panties and bra, too tired to remove them before I fell
asleep.
It is rainy and
stormy the next day when I managed to crawl out from under the
covers. I made myself presentable, then went over to Debbie’s. Mom
had called her telling her that the paper is filled with ads for Mr.
Kincade, paid for by his supporting groups. All of them condemning me
for dressing as a female, my support of LGBT, and any other negative
they could come up with regarding me. She then told us of an
unofficial poll done by the University showing me way out in front of
the race.
We continued our
meet and greet today, a couple of male-only clubs in town, of
businessmen, and two ladies groups, one gardening club, and one
professional women club. All went off with only minor irritations,
the male clubs requiring a more detailed explanation of my position
on matters and my desire to dress and live as a female. After all was
explained, they seemed to accept and acknowledge. Several told me
they would be with me on the litter walk later this week.
The days
progressed, and we continued our meet and greet campaign. The rumors
about me became more absurd; my favorite is that I was dressing as a
female to avoid an ex-wife, who is trying to serve papers on me for a
divorce. I replied to anyone that asked, to do that I would have to
be married.
We had agreed to
one debate during the campaign with a female judge being the
moderator. All of the questions had to come from constituents either
by email or phone during the debate. It was scheduled in the evening
to accommodate the largest amount of viewers possible. I wore a light
pink business suit, my hair done up in curls and my makeup utterly
feminine. The idea was to provoke Mr. Kincade to strike out in
frustration, either to my appearance, or my answers to some of the
questions.
We shook hands as
we met on stage, then took our places behind two podiums. The
questions surprised me, all of them dealing with his stand on the
issues that his factions wanted to be pursued in his next term if
elected. On most of his questions, I let him go first, his ego is not
allowing him to yield that favor. His first words out of his mouth
usually disgraced him. I noticed during the debate he switched more
to an avoidance of questions, and a more fire and brimstone sermon
type of answer. He actually was afraid of losing any more ground,
resorting to his father and grandfather’s type of campaign.
I let him ramble
on, most of his comments only moving him farther away from the
voters. As he was answering the last question, I took a moment to
repair my lipstick; my lips were dry and parched due to the lights.
The camera was on him, so no one is aware of what I was doing except
him. Well, that apparently was the final straw, he pointed to my
direction, telling everybody to look, he is fixing his blasted
lipstick where there are more important matters to discuss. The judge
stopped further comment because his time was up.
I stepped up to
the podium; let's look at the views expressed tonight shall we? I
told them all of the things I favor and my stand on all of the things
brought up tonight. I am out in the community every day, talking to
my constituents and will continue to do so. The litter walk that I
started had covered every major road in the district, with last
weekend’s volunteers numbering over three thousand.
I won’t promise
things I can’t deliver without a lot of other senators help. I will
promise to vote against any bill introduced that does not favor my
constituents, period. I am a female and have met most of you this
way. I want to settle down here, marry and probably adopt some
children. There are enough that need some decent homes out there.
Now as to fixing
my lipstick off camera, I plead guilty, a woman’s prerogative. Now
let me ask if Mr. Kincade’s rearrangement of his genitals during an
off-camera moment makes him above me in his actions. I don’t think
so. I ask you to vote for the person that cares about the community
and will do everything to preserve what we have. You have to decide
that, the voters of this district. Thank you for your time and
patience and good night. He stumbled through his finishing words;
none of it made any sense, and he lost his train of thought twice.
His last words
were you can’t put a person like this into public office. He/she
has an affair with his/her campaign manager and we have heard they
plan to marry. Surely the voters will not let this abomination serve
in public office. The judge said time had run out for the debate. She
urged everybody to get out and vote and thanked them for listening. I
smiled from ear to ear, just the type of language we wanted him to
resort to this evening. I could see his campaign manager telling him
that he overstepped his own boundaries; it will come back and kick
him in the ass. They argued, and the manager told him he quit, and
stormed out of the TV studio.
Debbie came over
and hugged me, she apparently not as confident as me as to how this
will play out. I took her hands and got down on one knee, not easy
wearing a tight skirt. I asked her to marry me in the upcoming weeks
and slipped a ring on her finger. Her attitude took a sudden change
of direction, and she hugged me almost squeezing me to death. I saw
the reporters over to the side from the local papers recording all of
this, probably tomorrow’s morning headline.
Since I had now
made it official, ring and all, we made a few plans. There is still
three weeks to the election, and I wanted the marriage completed
before the election. I am still legally male, so obtaining a marriage
license should be no problem. Debbie wanted to wait, afraid that the
ceremony would be detrimental to the campaign. I wanted honesty with
the voters, too many lies over the years already. If being married to
a loving female is going to keep me from being elected than the
voters deserve the crap that they will get with Mr. Kincade.
I wanted a two
bride ceremony and asked our mothers to pick out our wedding dresses.
I knew mine would pick out the girliest gown east of the Rockies, so
that isn’t a problem for me. Debbie would have to see to her own
mother, but I had a feeling she would end up just as girly. The
ceremony set for the Sunday before the election, and I invited all
our constituents to the ceremony. I had paid to have the reception
catered with lots of food, in case we had a higher than normal
turnout. It is at the high school gym, and we had arranged to be
married at one of the churches in town. I had checked with the
minister to make sure he would have no problem doing the ceremony, as
long as we have a license he would marry us.
We worked real
hard the last weeks making as many stops as possible. We made it back
to the Hispanic church to help with the interior painting of the day
care facility. They told us of the many gifts for the center donated
by citizens wanting the kids to have the best. Treated to a variety
of Mexican food to eat, some of it so good I wanted seconds. I am
ready to join the church for more of this type of food. My Mom told
me I would have to work off the extra weight that I would probably
gain since the dress is unforgiving. We had a great time, the church
treating us as friends, not some inflexible political candidates.
On one of our
excursions, we got one foul-mouthed young man who called us lots of
names, but the crowd around him pretty much handled the situation for
us. I had been out enough with the people that I was often recognized
and greeted as we made our rounds of the clubs, the malls, and the
civic organizations. We never ran into Mr. Kincade at any of these
venues, in fact since he lost his campaign manager, we haven’t seen
much of him at all.
The ads still run
in the papers almost daily, spouting off about my perversion, and my
not normal activities. I have a regular appointment at the beauty
salon every week, to keep my looks feminine and pretty. We get phone
calls daily on my cell phone letting me know something that has
happened, ideas about bills they would like passed, and a lot of
calls asking where we will be; they just wanted to drop by and say
hi.
Both Debbie and I
got our final dress fittings; Mom has found and purchased a dress
that would make a tree look beautiful and feminine. The skirt is
gorgeous and must have close to a hundred yards of material in it. I
am sure that I will fill the aisle as I walk down to the front of the
church. Of course, I haven’t seen Debbie’s but Mom says it is
equally gorgeous.
We planned to
work the day before we get married, getting out the vote, then salon
appointments the morning of the wedding, and then the wedding in the
afternoon. I planned a romantic evening with my fiancé, maybe a
little cuddling of a personal nature. With the wedding on Sunday, it
still left Monday before the election open; I had something in mind,
but managed to keep it from everybody including Debbie. On Tuesday,
we would vote, then head out on our honeymoon for two weeks in the
mountains of the southwest, at a friend’s cabin far away from
anything resembling any type of communication.
If we won the
election, I would be extremely happy, but I felt the time away is
needed to convince my new wife of the advantages of marrying me. The
last few days were hectic, getting packed for the honeymoon, last
minute preparations for the ceremony, and the windup of the campaign
taking a toll on all of us.
I had arranged a
full page ad in the local newspaper for the day before the election.
The wordage is simple; a thank you buffet in the middle of downtown
for the voters of this district. Everybody is invited, whether they
plan to vote for me or Mr. Kincade. I had arranged with a lot of
groups to have games for the kids, activities for the adults, with
all the proceeds from the event to go to the Children’s Hospital.
As the people entered, they would be handed tokens so when they
played a game or participated in an activity, they would give the
vendor a token. For every token used, I would contribute a dollar to
the hospital.
For food, I had
contacted all of the prominent restaurants in town and requested they
make a sampling of their most requested foods for the buffet. I told
them all to plan to serve a thousand people with their selections. To
compensate them for their loss of business that day I had planned to
pay them their regular daily receipts for a Monday plus five hundred
dollars incentive.
Surprisingly, all
but two restaurants refused the incentive, telling me to give it to
some local charity in their name. The two that didn’t refuse the
incentive just told me they would prepare more food for the party.
They thought that my estimation of the turnout is way too low, both
thought I would be greatly surprised.
I wanted it to be
a fun time for families and their children, a place to celebrate
their freedom and to be thankful for all they have in life. Too many
people never take the time to appreciate what they have, always just
interested in what they don’t have or want. I had sneaked around
quite a bit to keep this from all my relatives and campaign workers
including Debbie. The fact that our wedding is in this time period
was keeping them focused on that.
My Mom was the
first one to discover my plan when I met her after a hard day of
campaigning, she gave me a real big hug, bigger than normal. She
thanked me for being who I am and think the voters of this district
will feel the same. She asked me how much the surprise is costing me.
I tell her I have no idea what she is talking about. She just smiles
then hands me a blank check, telling me to fill it out for half of
the expenditure. I start to protest, but she insists that her pretty
daughter listens to her mother and do as she says. I get a kiss on
the cheek, and she leaves. Well so much for keeping it a secret from
everyone. Later that night, Debbie also asks what she should wear for
the street party, something comfy or maybe a little fancier.
I need to check
for listening devices or some type of spies since my secret seems to
be widespread knowledge. Then Francine called, you can’t leave us
out of this her only words; I guess the leak is pretty big. She wants
to know how the salon can help, all of the girls want to help you out
any way they can. I suggested that maybe some face painting or
makeovers for all the young girls and any boys that might also want
the treat. She agreed, and they would be there with bells on.
Incidentally, the
leak you are seeking is the newspaper; they are so proud of what you
are doing that they told quite a few of us. I corrected your mistake
at the paper after they told me what you are planning. I asked her
what mistake is that. She then mentioned, “The single page ad had
grown a little so that now it is a whole seven-page section. Each
merchant has tied into the ad all offering services or treats for
free, that changed the cost of the supplement, so I picked up the tab
for it all. Now you need to come in tomorrow early so that we can
make sure you are perfect for your day’s activities. I love you,
don’t you forget that!” then she hung up. The nerve of her, then
I grinned, seems like my idea is mushrooming quite a bit. Some people
do care about others, more so than I thought.
Saturday we spent
every moment with the people of my district, well almost every
minute; a girl has to look her best you know, and Francine had
offered her salon’s services. I am curled, manicured, made up, and
treated to a new business suit to wear. The suit is provocative
showing off my assets to the max. I wasn’t underdressed, just so
feminine that no one looking at me could think I am anything other
than a hundred percent female. Debbie is not left out either, an
identical outfit for her only in a different color. My suit is pink,
you knew that was coming, and hers a baby blue.
We drove slowly
through town, stopping and talking to anybody we could see. We were
greeted amicably by everybody, even one staunch Kincade supporter
shook our hands. He apologized for his candidate, the actions of his
candidate was inexcusable. He admitted he was wavering, too many
wrongs for him to still support the man. I gave him a hug, telling
him to vote his conscious, the best way to handle indecision.
The mall was not
excluded, both of us walking the mall twice, from one end to the
other. We had deliberately refrained from asking people to vote for
me. We just wanted them to vote, period. We did hand out quite a few
cards, but usually with the intent for them to call us if they had
any concerns or questions. At seven-thirty we made it back to my
house, we had quit worrying about being followed, pictures taken and
all that crap. We had already been accused of almost everything, a
few more rumors or accusations, not a problem.
We had stopped
and got some take-out. Our friends at the church had told us of a
small restaurant that served the best food in the area, so that is
what we grabbed a sampling from as we headed home. We nibbled in the
car but, only a small portion of what we got actually made it home.
We set on my
sofa, finished our pig out fest and talked about the campaign. Debbie
is still concerned about our wedding that it will not help my
efforts. I, on the other hand, feel that it will, a candidate that is
truthful about his/her life, both public and private is long overdue
in politics. My toe-curling kisses, helping to sway her opinion. We
elected to stay together tonight, but in separate beds. I told her to
get plenty of rest for she is going to need it in the days to come. I
sported a smile as those words escaped my mouth.
We did decide on
what to wear to the party, though. We both thought that casual would
be best, a couple of fancier sweats more appropriate. I didn’t want
to make anybody feel uncomfortable; it is a party to celebrate our
freedom, the things we take for granted, not the things we don’t
have.
I received a
wonderful kiss in the morning, from a gleaming wide-eyed Debbie, then
she ran to the bathroom before I could retaliate. By the time she
finished her shower, I had to get mine so we would be on time for our
appointments. We threw on some clothes and drove over to the salon.
As we entered we were separated; I did manage a farewell kiss before
I was dragged off to be prepared. I swear every service that they
offered in their salon was performed on my body. I was embarrassed
and shocked as the cups for the breasts enlargement were reinserted
on me. Before I could get a word out, I am informed that for the
dress to fit properly, I needed a little more on top.
Why the dress
wasn’t made a little smaller escaped all logical reasoning. I
decided then and there to just go with the flow, so far I have
enjoyed everything and have not regretted anything done to me. We
were scheduled here for the rest of the day, only to be dressed and
driven separately to the church at four P.M. The wedding ceremony is
at five, we had rooms at the church to make any final preparations
necessary for our walk down the aisle. Our mothers had made all the
other arrangements and arranged for flowers for the ceremony.
This time, the
breast machine had put me to sleep, the sudden silence in the room
waking me up. I immediately looked down, and the cups were jam packed
with my flesh. A different technician came in with two syringes,
looked at me for a minute to see if I was going to ask anything and
when I didn’t gave me a shot in each breast. The cups did seem much
larger than the first ones, but the term ‘well-endowed’ suddenly
seemed appropriate now.
As before they
left the cups on, but I was moved to a chair where my hair is
shampooed and conditioned then towel dried. The chair is set upright,
and a flock of technicians descends on me. One on each hand doing my
nails, one doing my toes, two working on setting my hair in curlers,
and Francine supervising their efforts. I did notice that my
extensions on my nails were removed and longer ones added to my
fingers. I would now be in the helpless female mode for quite some
time as I learned to handle the new extreme length.
The new
extensions came past my fingertips by at least an inch. Then after a
base coat, three coats of the deepest burgundy polish is applied.
Under the UV light between each coat, incidentally. The extensions
had been applied the same way, a glue then the UV light to set the
glue. I figured the nails would be with me for quite some time. The
final application of a glossy top coat really made them shine and
sparkle.
Meanwhile, my
hair had more curlers in it than I had seen in any female before me.
Not that I am an expert in wet sets, but I figured that mine exceeded
the norm by a long ways. They used a spray bottle to saturate each
curl; then moved me under a hair dryer. The air was not hot, just
warm and soon I am back asleep. Francine shook my shoulder to get my
attention, then dragged me back to a styling station. I noticed the
covering on the mirror right away. I guess I don’t get to see how I
look until they are finished.
Patricia starts
removing my curlers and I feel nothing. I guess the curl is tight
since I feel nothing bouncing around like I usually do. It seemed
like hours as she worked on my hair. She kept a steady stream of
conversation asking about Debbie, how we met, what we are planning in
life. I responded the best I could, but my curiosity is getting the
best of me. My larger breasts, the two shots I received, my longer
nails, and now a mysterious hairstyle. I try several times to steer
the conversation to obtaining some information, but she evades my
quest with ease.
My curiosity took
a turn towards frustration, I feel beautiful, all the pampering and
primping making me feel like a princess but why all the additional
beauty treatments. When she finishes, I am moved to another room and
undressed down to my birthday suit. Then a corset appears and soon is
hooked around my body. Two of them attack the tightening of said item
until I feel like I am about to split in two. The laces are tied off;
then the cups are removed from my breasts. Cream is massaged into
them until I am a withering gob of goo standing in the room. “That
feels so good; I wish they would do that forever.”
One of the girls
approaches with a half cup-shaped object and glue is smeared over the
item. The underside of my breast is coated in the same glue then held
up by the nipple until the glue gets tacky. Even though they were
trying to be gentle, the holding of my nipple is melting what is left
of my brain into a liquid. As the half cup is applied to the
underside of my breast, my nipple is standing out a mile in
anticipation of future events. The support does not come close to
covering the nipple, its proud protrusion announcing to the world of
its willingness to engage in some more interesting activities.
Next, is a poor
excuse for a panty, that can’t be more than two or three inches
square with an elastic strap working its way between my butt cheeks
to a waistband made of stretch lace. It certainly will give Debbie
ideas if she doesn’t already have some. Then a huge pile of
petticoats is brought in and set before me. I am led to the middle of
them, stepping over the piled up lace and netting. The petticoats are
straightened out; then a device is attached to my thighs right above
my knees.
It fastened
around my thigh tightly with a short cord between the thighs. I now
would not be able to take other than the smallest of steps. I was
asked to raise each foot bending my leg at the knee. A pair of heels
are added to my feet and buckled securely to my ankle. The heels had
to have been at least five inches in height, a fact that I was sure
that I would become aware of very shortly. The last few weeks I have
been wearing taller heels, so the height is not the problem. The
restriction between my legs would limit my gait quite severally, the
combination of the two making me the perfect submissive bride.
Finally,
Francine comes in and announces that I will just have to wait until
the ceremony to find out the reasons for the changes. She knows I
will like the reasons, a present from our Moms and her. Two hours
after Patricia starts on my hair, she announces she is finished. I do
feel a little hair tickling my ears, but all the rest is presumably
on top of my head. Perfume is added to all the normal places and a
few that I hadn’t thought of before. My vagina, I am sure will be
welcoming Debbie with its perfumed aroma wafting up from my nether
regions.
Lastly my dress.
I watch as they attach cords to it and pull it high above my head.
Then I am moved directly underneath, and the dress is slowly lowered
with four ladies each pulling out the hem of the dress as it is
lowered so that it will not mess with my hair and makeup. After it is
all around me, the cords are removed, and the dress is pulled up to
my shoulders. The waist is secured there with a built in belt and
tightened. Now the only piece remaining is the bodice of the dress.
The fit of the arm into the sleeve is tight, several attempts made
before they got my hands out of the end of the sleeves. The tight
sleeves hampering any movements of my arms and hands. When I tried to
raise my arms I found that I couldn’t get them any higher than my
waist.
I look for an
explanation, but none is forthcoming. Mom approaches and adjusts the
fabric over my nipples allowing them to show a little. With the
design of the dress, you have to look closely to see the nipple, but
it is there totally visible to the world. “A little incentive to
keep your mind where it belongs, on your soon, to be wife and the
need to make grandchildren for your mothers.”
I was led from
the salon to a waiting limo and soon headed to the wedding venue. I
had to be helped in everything I did, even getting into the limo
impossible with the strap on my thighs, the huge voluminous skirt and
petticoats, and the restricted movement of my arms.
When the limo
pulled up to the church, I am helped out of the limo and taken
inside. Placed in one of the rooms at the back of the church. I am
left alone to wait until the time comes for the service. I hear some
commotion in the adjoining room, and I presume Debbie has made it to
the church. I wonder what changes were made to Debbie’s body and
attire.
Mom came in to
check on me, making sure all was still ready for the ceremony. She
took a few minutes to explain their behavior. “Both Debbie and you
have been friends for years, good friends yet neither of you made the
first move. We know you love each other; that is clearly visible for
any to see. If it wasn’t for me telling you that Debbie always
loved you, you would still most likely just be friends. Take two
aging mothers and give them time to make plans and no telling what
they might come up with to deal with their wayward children.”
She continued,
“Now since you are the most feminine bride, you will lead out the
procession.” I was helped to the door, then waited for the music to
start. Mom moved a couple of pieces of fabric to hide the nipples a
little better, but from my vantage point, they are still clearly
visible and extended a least a half inch or more past my breasts. The
wedding march started, and I am pushed into the aisle, with the
hobbles, I can only take very short steps, it seemed like I would
never get to the front of the church. I hear gasps from the crowd, as
I am making my way to the alter, I notice the church is packed, even
people standing along the side aisles. Then more gasps from behind
me, Debbie no doubt following me down the aisle.
I made it to the
altar, turning to see Debbie approaching. Both of our eyes glued to
the other as the distance between us is closing, she is so beautiful,
and I am so lucky to be her bride. The service is fairly short, the
usual asking if any person has any objections, but no responses are
heard. The preacher asks us the usual questions, our I do’s
sufficient for the ceremony.
Our Moms place
rings in our hands, and we get close to each other so that we can
slide the ring on our spouse's finger. We both had bought matching
wedding sets, and I wore an engagement ring just like Debbie. We
manage to slide our rings on our spouse’s fingers, and then we are
pronounced wife and wife. You can now kiss the bride is proclaimed,
and Debbie and I press together in an erotic embrace, the kiss is so
sensual that I feel it all the way to my new vaginal lips.
We make our way
back down the aisle, then back to our separate rooms. Each of our
mothers is with us, as they adjust the dresses, so our nipples are
not showing. My Mother reaches behind me and attaches something to
the back of my dress. I reach around to see what she has done then I
heard two clicks, and my hands are fastened behind me. She slips a
broom handle under the front hem of the dress, holding the skirt up,
then, she slips down in front of me and slides something into my new
vagina. I almost buckle at the sensation, my knees barely holding me
upright.
I try to ask what
she is doing, but I am shushed. She grabs a strap hanging down
between my legs, pulling it taught, then attaches it to my waist belt
with a click. I protest but am shushed again. Finally, the hem of my
dress is lowered, and my hands are released. I looked directly into
her eyes and asked, “What have you done to me?” She smiles, “Just
two concerned mothers making sure that the bedroom activities later
will result in grandchildren.” I want to argue with her, but the
door is opened, and I am led to a limo.
Since our dresses
are so big, we have to travel in separate limos to the reception. I
thought we might have changed into something more comfortable for the
reception, but the powers to be, our mothers, apparently thought
otherwise. We arrived at the reception, the crowd a lot bigger than I
expected. Debbie is right behind me, we kiss and whisper to each
other. Apparently, she is in the same situation as me, our holes
filled with something that is very distracting. Every time I move,
the hobble making the rubbing of my lips with the dildo inside just
that much worse.
If the intention
is to get us sexually frustrated, our Moms have succeeded in that
endeavor. We walk around meeting all the people, then taking a few
minutes to dance with each other. We both throw our garters to the
crowd, not paying any attention to who actually caught them.
Thankfully our garters had been removed in the room before we entered
the reception. We received many well wishes, and quite a few gifts,
even though we had requested that any gifts be donated to the local
charities. All the people that had told us they gave us a gift had
also given to the charity. We danced the last dance with each other
and then we were taken to a room to change clothes. Out of the huge
dresses and into a ladies two piece suits. Our Moms presented us with
a small suitcase of goodies for the evening before we left.
Out to the car
and then to a hotel where we had booked a room for the evening. Mom
had already checked us in, so we picked up the key and headed to our
room. We were both so sexually frustrated we didn’t bother with
carrying the bride into the room. We went to the bed with Debbie
going through the suitcase looking for the key to our chastity
devices. I am busy getting out of the ladies suit. Debbie groaned in
frustration then started removing her clothes while I resumed the
search for the damn key. We just about were ready to call our Moms,
when Debbie found the letter taped to the inside of the suitcase lid.
We set down on the edge of the bed reading the letter together.
Our Moms had
really fixed us up for the evening. I dialed my mom’s number to see
if they had switched off their cell phones. They did, the provider
message coming on that that number is not in service at the moment.
The letter stated
that there is no key to our chastity belts. In the suitcase is an
insert for Debbie’s dildo. It fits inside her dildo and has a
protrusion that will fit inside of mine. We need to make every effort
to get me to climax, then when Debbie’s dildo is inserted into mine
a vacuum will activate, and my sperm will be collected and inserted
into Debbie’s vagina. If I try hard enough, I can give Debbie
pleasure by manipulating her dildo.
The important
thing here is that my sperm will end up in Debbie, and her orgasms
will be better when she is on her back, letting all those sperm find
her eggs. Debbie and I looked at each other, our own Mothers doing
this to us! I will have to give them credit for their
resourcefulness. No erotic author could come up with such a twisted
way to get pregnant. We broke out in giggles, Debbie pushing me back
on the bed and reaching for the dildo to insert in her body. I spread
my legs, for Mom and country, and we were off on a fantasy evening.
It turned out to be fun, the positions we tried to get the maximum
effect. The key to my release is Debbie playing with my nipples; I am
moaning and squirming under her as she worked her magic on me.
I got equal time
as I rolled her over and did the same to her breasts. I knew she is
turned on big time as the flow of liquid from her nether regions
quite substantial. I lowered myself to her dildo and started
manipulating it with my mouth. I found where I could twist it
sideways a little and Debbie would almost come off the bed.
I stayed with it,
her moaning that is enough, too sore to continue, purposefully
ignored. I wanted my poor old Mother to have grandchildren, so I
continued into the wee hours of the morning. By that time Debbie had
been on her back for five hours that ought to do the trick. When I
finally stopped, she looked me directly in the eye and told me she
would get even if it is the last thing she does on earth! I grinned
and asked if she had picked any baby names yet?
I may get
pregnant and have the baby, but you will breastfeed it and raise it,
including changing the diapers, Mommy dearest! She can’t be
serious, me breastfeed a baby, is that even possible. She assured me
that it is and she would schedule the necessary treatments tomorrow
so that her baby can be properly taken care of.
Too pooped to do
anything more, we collapsed on the bed, both of us drifting off into
dreamland. That damn sun boring into my eyes the next morning made
any further sleep impossible. We cleaned up and dressed in the sweats
we had picked out for the day. Today is the day of the party, I
checked the paper to see that the ads had run, finding the whole
paper loaded with support ads, lists of activities available at the
party and well wishes from almost every civic and religious faction
in town.
We made our way
downtown, having to park quite a ways from the area of the party. As
we entered the city square, I was floored; wall to wall adults and
children, from their appearance having the time of their life. We
walked along greeting everyone, thanking the vendors for their
participation. Over the next few hours it became even more crowded.
The police showing up to oversee the crowd. The lady police chief,
finding us, telling me that the crowd is estimated at just over fifty
thousand people. The last people to arrive had come from the mall,
the local bus service bringing them here as a service, since there is
no parking available anywhere near downtown. It was almost eight that
night before the crowd thinned out a little, they were dancing,
playing games and eating anything that is left at the food vendors.
Several of the food vendors had sent people back to their restaurant
to prepare more food, their first offerings gone within minutes of
setting up. I needed to make sure they were adequately compensated
for their efforts. I never did find our mothers, even Francine
stayed lost in the crowds. I did see their handiwork as many small
children had their face painted, even some boys with mascara and
lipstick, they were so cute.
As the clock
neared midnight, we headed back to the hotel, totally pooped. We both
still had our Mother’s gifts embedded in our bodies, I had quite a
few erotic moments during the day trying to deal with my penance. I
am sure our Mother’s would have preferred for us to engage in
bedroom antics again that night but we were so out of it, we fell
asleep on top of the sheets with all of our clothes still on. The
shoes is the only thing we lost on the way to the bed.
The next morning,
our makeup refreshed, it is time to vote, than our honeymoon such as
it is. After the night before, the honeymoon will definitely be
second best in the entertainment department. The precinct where we
voted is crowded, lines out the doors for at least fifty feet. That
is good, a large turnout likely to be favorable to our campaign. We
waited in line, a lot of the voters recognized us and the
conversations were stimulating. Of the people near us in line, there
did not seem to be any Kincade supporters, an unusual occurrence.
After thirty
minutes we made it to the voting machines, signed in and then voted.
Afterward, we shook some hands then left. We stopped in at the salon,
mainly to thank Francine for all her help. She greeted us at the door
and ushered us into one of the private rooms in the back. With a big
smile she asked how Sunday was, did we enjoy ourselves. Debbie
answered for us. “Yes, we enjoyed it, as horny as we were, I could
have screwed a brick wall, our mothers definitely need a talking
too!” She reached into a drawer and handed us a key. Debbie
snatched it up so fast before I could even move my arm, she had it in
her grasp. I asked her if we could use the key now to undo our
chastity devices, but she smiled then pocketed the key.
Francine giggled,
I think someone got into trouble last night, you might consider an
apology before you head out of town. Debbie spoke first asking
Francine where she could get some drugs to stimulate lactation in a
male. I looked at her in shock; she is going to make me nurse the
baby; she can't do that to me. Francine whispered in her ear, and
Debbie entered a phone number in her laptop, presumably the
information she is looking for. Francine told us she has a couple of
stylists ready to touch up our makeup and hair; then we can leave.
She assured us she would send us an email tonight once the election
results are in.
The stylists came
and got us and for the next thirty minutes, we were pampered and
primped. The look is essentially the same, but we felt much better
after the fussing. We went to my apartment to get packed, well not
packed as our Mother’s had packed for us. It is to make sure that
no more hidden surprises were awaiting us once we got to our
destination.
We went through
our luggage, piece by piece, making sure that all is as planned. We
can never trust our Mother’s again after Sunday’s night’s
incident. As expected, their cell phones were still switched off, for
fear of what they might get verbally from their daughters. Both
Debbie and I had forgiven them, just some misplaced concern for their
future grandchildren. As I was locking up, Debbie is on the phone and
arranged one last stop before we left town.
She drove, as we
went back across town to a medical office park. I was led into the
complex, and we entered a Doctor’s office. Debbie told the
receptionist we had an appointment, then we set in the waiting room
to be called. I figured that it was Debbie’s doctor, so I kept
quiet while we waited. A few minutes later we were called back, but I
was the one that got weighed and taken to an examination room. The
nurse handed me a gown and Debbie held it as she told me to get
undressed. I looked at her for an explanation but received none.
Dressed in the
gown, we didn’t have to wait long as the doctor is prompt. She
introduced herself as Cynthia Long and asked what I wanted to see her
about. Debbie told her that I needed some medication to induce
lactation in my breasts since I would be breastfeeding our children.
Cynthia smiled glad that she had a phone call earlier explaining the
visit. Francine had called her and explained why Debbie wanted me to
breastfeed our children.
Cynthia asked if
I wanted the treatment, one look from Debbie was all I needed to make
the appropriate response. She explained that it sometimes took a
couple of months for the lactation to start, with daily breast
pumping, I could be kept in milk for as long as necessary. I am told
that breast expansion would be a likely consequence, at least, one
cup size possibly two should be expected. No alcohol or drugs without
medical supervision to ensure healthy breast milk. I was asked one
more time, I just nodded, another task to be added to my list of
womanly experiences.
Cynthia
reappeared with two syringes and injected one in each breast, right
behind the nipple. The shot hurt some, Debbie assuring me that she
would kiss it and make it better later. Cynthia giggled and gave us
her card if we have any questions or concerns.
In the car,
Debbie told me that we could get the breast pump and the nursing bras
and inserts when we got to our destination. I must have really pissed
her off; she is like a woman possessed in this matter. We had time
for some lunch before our flight, so we made a detour to get
something to eat. A little Italian eatery was just perfect, the
salads and calzones were perfect for our afternoon.
We got to the
airport in time, cleared security way too easily, then waited about
thirty minutes for our flight to be called. We had first class seats,
so we got comfortable and waited for all the passengers to be
boarded. I planned on getting some sleep on the flight, the little we
got the last two nights not enough to sustain life. I got comfy, and
Debbie leaned in and laid her head on my bosom. She twisted around a
little, and then put her hand up underneath my blouse. I then
realized I would not get much rest; she intended to play with my
breasts for the entire trip. I sighed and closed my eyes, maybe if I
concentrated enough, I still might get some sleep.
The flight is way
too long, my right breast more than a little sore from her constant
manipulation. We gathered our carry-on luggage and made an exit. We
had to wait for some time before we got our regular baggage,
something went wrong on one of their conveyor belts. Finally, we had
everything and went to the car rental place. Since my ID has not been
updated to the female gender, Debbie had to be the one on the car
rental contract. I suddenly felt a little like a real woman, not an
equal, just eye candy for my spouse. On the way to the car, I tried
to make a case for my eye candy appeal, Debbie is laughing and
giggling as she walked slightly behind me.
The drive to the house is about two hours, I tried to stay busy,
redid my lipstick several times, applied more mascara, and
re-adjusted my breasts in my bra countless times. I even checked the
contents of my purse out; I had added a couple of items, but most of
the contents were things Debbie added to it. It seems I had what I
needed to handle any emergency, from my period starting to blowing my
nose. Debbie always kept one eye on what I was doing, when she saw me
with the tampon, she suggested that I have my period the same time as
hers. Even if I was not a menstruating female, I needed to act like
one, once a month for four to seven days.
Although my
constituents knew of my gender change, most of them still see only a
female and expect me to act like one in the future. She did ask if I
was considering taking it any further. I responded that I really
didn’t know, I like the life, the clothes and how I am treated. I
realize that I have been extremely lucky in how I have been treated,
but Andrea is the true person here, Andrew just a faint memory.
Debbie suggested that some sperm saving might be a good idea, in case
I wanted to nurse even more children. I gave her an evil eye, but she
just giggled, she told me that the image of me nursing our child
makes her wet down there, so the vicious cycle might just continue
with more children, and more nursing.
She figures that
being a housewife and nursing our children will not interfere with my
job as a State Senator. The one or two times that I need to be at the
capital all day, I can express some milk, and we can get our mothers
to babysit. I told her that is presumptuous; we don't even know how
the election turned out yet. With that thought my cell phone rang, it
is Francine and congratulated me on my win. The vote is final, Andrea
winning the election with eighty-five percent of the vote. “Now
enjoy your vacation and make a lot of babies for your mothers!”
Giggling she did ask, “Has your milk come in yet?” Before I can
respond, she has hung up. I told Debbie the news, and she squealed,
almost hitting a median in the road.
It looks like I
will indeed be a female State Senator. Also a housewife and Mother in
the near future. Debbie has that look, determined and goal driven. A
let out a long sigh; maybe this is what I should have been all along.
I am indeed loved, Debbie is my soul mate, and the voters of our
district need some say in their lives. Yes, Andrea is here to stay,
to be loved and cared for in her new life.
© 2016 thru
2024 by Francesca