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 all these groups. Unfortunately, there are a lot of these type of 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.

Due to her interest in politics and her insights, I became interested, too, while in my teens. Our 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’s. 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 her 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 anticipating 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 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 present 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 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, 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 wit 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, 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 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 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 comfort 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 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 grisliest 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 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 the 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 frame. 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 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 makes 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 my 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 leave.

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 clocked 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 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.

Story Complete For Now

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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