I knew I couldn’t sneak my way into the city. I wasn’t any good in a fight either. I was a photographer, not some Navy SEAL.
That’s when I noticed more and more women and children being allowed into the city. They women were dressed from head to toe with dark burqas. You could only see their eyes. In some cases, you couldn’t see any facial features at all.
“Just why does he keep letting women and children into his territory?” I asked, scanning the entrance. “It’s can’t be out of the kindness of his heart.”
“Slaves and soldiers,” Steve said grimly. We watched as a parade of women and children entered the city. There were so many refugees that it was hard to keep track of them. “The children can be raised up to become soldiers. As for the women…”
I shuddered. “Sounds like they’re trapped between a rock and a hard place.”
My friend replied. “We’re nearly as bad off if we stay at this camp. We might as well head to the airport. There’s not too much we can report on here.”
“What about the rebels? There were reports that they are close by.”
Steve shook his head. “I don’t get paid enough to risk my life getting caught in a crossfire. Besides, I heard from the doctors here that they’re ready to evacuate. The region is known for dust storms.”
I stared at the entrance of the city. I was so close yet so far. “Yeah….”
“Well, if you want to get inside Bashar’s little nation,” Steve began as he walked off. “You have to be a kid. Or a woman!”
Suddenly, the wheels in my head started to turn. The city was a fortified stronghold. Even a crack team of US Marines would have a difficult time breaching it.
A woman, however, could enter it with ease.
The women here covered up most of their bodies. You could hardly tell one of them apart from the other. In a huge congregation like this, you couldn’t just scan for one woman.
I could dress up as a woman and infiltrate Bashar’s city. I spoke the language and the local dress would provide me with cover. They let in women without much difficulty.
The soldiers at the entrance weren’t even asking for documentation. It wasn’t as if the people here had much in the way of identification. Nonetheless, I could take some documents from a recently diseased woman named Farah.
If Frank couldn’t get in, then Farah had a shot.
Even if they took off my headscarf, I still had the look and build of a woman. My shoulders were slender and my hair was long enough to require a tie. While I got teased for my feminine looks at work, it could be an asset here. With a bit of makeup, I could pass for a local girl.
The only part I was worried about was fooling all the other Syrian women. They were more likely to spot something off about my appearance. With a little bit of luck, I could enter the city and take a few snaps of Bashar. The local clothing was bulky enough to hide a camera.
This warlord loved to hold rallies. Bashar believed himself to be the leader of a new nation. He held rallies to boost nationalism amongst his newfound kingdom. It was one of the few times he appeared in public. With a decent enough lens, I could finally get a good photo of the mysterious man.
The hard part would be keeping a low profile until Bashar revealed himself. I knew his foot soldiers were on the lookout for spies and trespassers. I needed to keep my head down until the time came. Once I got my photo, I could slip back out when they let more refugees inside. It was always a chaotic process which would give me additional cover.
I headed back to the tent and went over my plan. I knew that disguising myself as a woman wasn’t too farfetched. Behind the veil and dress, I had a feminine body. It was soft and had curves in all the right places. I rarely grew facial or body hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I had to shave.
I needed everything to be perfect. The consequences for failing would be dire. I knew that Bashar’s men had executed a man for trying to sneak into the city for safe harbor. No amount of explaining would make a man dressing as a woman seem any less suspicious to killers like them.
I didn’t have much time to prepare. If the war wasn’t bad enough, a dust storm was dangerously close to our location. There was an evacuation warning for all journalists and volunteers. Steve had already left with his team. I told my employer that I was taking a more roundabout trip back home.
It was a good thing Steve was gone. Otherwise, he would try to talk me out of this insane idea. As crazy as it was, it was my only shot of getting a photo of Bashar. Having the only photo of the warlord would boost my career. I could move up to senior journalist within weeks. There were also photojournalism awards. People would be dying to know how I got a photo of the elusive man.
I’d just have to fib a little bit about how I got into the city.
Regardless, I knew there was no going back. I would have a small window of opportunity to get in, take a photo, and evacuate before the whole country got too dangerous. Bashar’s men would be on high alert for intruders. I couldn’t give away the slightest hint I was a man.
I took a spare veil and dress from an abandoned tent. It covered everything except my eyes. I also made sure I wore a padded bra. A pair of molds from the medical tent did that job. It filled out my dress and made it look more believable.
With my eyes exposed, I touched up my eyelashes with a bit of makeup. It wasn’t too fancy but it made my eyes look more feminine. Most of the women here didn’t wear much makeup at all.
It helped that I was fluent in Arabic. I had taken it as an elective in college and practiced it ever since. It was the lingua franca of Syria. I just ended to raise my voice a few octaves. It was a bit busy to speak in a foreign language with a higher pitch but it was doable.
Wearing my new look in the privacy of my tent, I examined my appearance. The veil and robes were rather comfortable in this type of climate. The dark fabric brought out every contour of my body in a way my baggy old clothes never did. Still, I wasn’t convinced of its effectiveness.
I decided a test was in order. If my disguise failed, it was better to have it happen in the camp than at the gates of Bashar’s city. I was more likely to get laughed at than killed.
Donning my new look, I stopped by the cafeteria. It was manned by a local man I had interviewed a few days ago. He would be the perfect test.
With my heart racing, I approached him and asked in Arabic. “Could I have a cup of water?”
The man stared at me before smiling. “Of course, madam.”
I nearly breathed a sigh of relief as I took a cup of water. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t quite catch your name,” the man continued, sounding playful. “I should remember a woman like you.”
I almost wanted to blush. “It’s Farah.”
“You should head inside Bashar’s city,” he said, looking at the gates. He seemed genuinely concerned about me. “You’ll be safe there.”
Beneath my veil, I raised an eyebrow. “Safe?”
The man chuckled. “It’s safer than staying here! Who knows when the evacuation will begin? With Bashar, at least you know who you are dealing with.”
I finished sipping the water through my veil before thanking the man again. I went around the refugee camp to test my disguise even further. To my surprise, all of them believed I was a native Syrian. Some of them even tried to flirt with me.
At first, I didn’t know why I was attracting so much attention. That’s when I noticed I was one of the few women still at the camp. Most of the women had headed over to Bashar’s city or left with the various humanitarian groups.
I knew it was time for me to enter as well. The city’s guards opened the gates every morning for women and children. Refugees were still trickling in from the surrounding region. These women were willing to take their chances with Bashar if they received shelter in return.
I hid my trusty camera within my dress and headed to the entrance of the city. There was already a line of female refugees but it was moving quickly. I blended in quit
e well with them.
I noticed that the guards were occasionally taking some women inside a nearby building. I knew that Bashar’s men were suspicious of women who they believed were loyal to other warlords in the area. Furthermore, they also searched people for contraband, such as weapons. I prayed that my camera was hidden well enough.
As the line moved up, I took a deep breath.
This was it.
If I couldn’t get past the front gate, then my dream of capturing Bashar’s face was over.
“You there!” a man shouted at me in Arabic. “Come with us.”
Chapter 2
I felt a growing pit in my stomach. I didn’t know how they had spotted me. I wasn’t sure whether to run or to stay still.
One of the guards made the decision for me by taking me inside a nearby building. I worried they were going to execute me. I prayed it was a quick and painless execution.
The man closed the door and trapped me with him. From the badge on his uniform, I guessed he was some sort of captain. It was never a good thing to be alone with a man like him.
Suddenly, he pulled down my veil. “Pretty girl. What are you doing amongst filth like them?”
I nearly sighed in relief. My disguise was holding up so far. I handed him my papers. None of the documents contained anything too important, such as a photo ID. “Please, I’m just a woman…”
He took the documents and glanced at them. “So Farah, is it?”
I couldn’t believe he had fallen for my disguise. In fact, my face had fooled him as well. I decided to continue my act. “Please, I just want to be inside the city.”
The man put his hands on my breasts and squeezed them. Apparently, they felt real enough for him to let out a groan. Without warning, the man drew in for a kiss. I tried to break free but the man pinned me against a wall.
I was at his complete mercy.
I knew revealing myself as a man would just get me killed. Bashar’s men were known for their brutality. I had no choice but to give in. However, I didn’t want this captain to undress me. He could discover my camera and mistake me for a spy. Worse, he would see past my padded bra and discover that I was actually a man.
With his hands wandering all over me, I needed to come up with a plan and fast. I placed my hands on his wrists. “No, I’m a religious woman!”
The man stopped momentarily and smiled. “There’s no God here.”
“Please,” I begged him, trying to come up with a distraction. “Then, take me from behind!”
I didn’t know what compelled me to say it but it made the man smile. It seemed like believable enough lie. A pious woman who got reamed in her ass would technically be a virgin.
The captain was more than happy to fuck me back there. The man flipped me over and held me over the wall. I wasn’t sure how I felt about getting fucked in the ass but it was preferable to getting executed as a spy.
I prepared myself to get shafted in the ass. I reached behind to lift up my skirt and pull down my panties. My heavy clothing helped hide my balls. Nevertheless, my heart thundered at the threat of being caught.
The captain seemed to buy my disguise. I heard him pull down his pants and take out his cock. I felt his prick touch my buttocks before he positioned it at my rear entrance.
Soon, his prick sank deep within me. The motion knocked all of the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t believe how deep he was thrusting into me.
The captain was stretching me wide and filling me to the brim. The man cared little for my pleasure as he fucked me senselessly. My moans mingled with his groaning. I never factored getting fucked from behind in my plan!
The man grew harder and harder the more he fucked me. It didn’t mean that it hurt more with each thrust. In fact, I was beginning to enjoy this. Or I was growing numb from shock.
Regardless, I loved the way his pubic hair brushed up against my ass. This captain seemed to be having the best fuck of his life. His loud groaning echoed within the room. I felt like I was his personal masturbatory tool like some living sex doll.
Finally, I felt his cock throb deep within my ass. I knew he was close to his orgasm. Eventually, his hard cock spurted deep inside of me. To my surprise, it felt surprisingly pleasurable to have a prick spray your insides with hot come.
Once he grew soft, the captain withdrew out of me and caught his breath. With a big smile on his face, he patted my buttocks and said. “Welcome to Bashar’s city!”
Fucking a captain did come with its advantages. I got through the front with little hassle. No one strip searched me or asked for ID. I got into Bashar’s city without any further issues.
In fact, no one else had seen through my disguise. With my veil and makeup, people were hard pressed to uncover my real identity. I just needed to keep my head down and get close enough to Bashar to snap a good photo of him.
The only problem was that I may have done too good of a job with my disguise. Most of the women here were refugees fleeing from war. They weren’t well groomed or well-dressed.
On the other hand, I had more makeup on my eyes than most women had over their entire bodies. Even without the veil, I was pretty damn attractive as a girl. I had spent more time on getting my looks right than I should have. It was more of a curse than anything else. I needed to blend into the crowd of refugees while I came up with a way of getting close to Bashar.
It came with other problems as well. Word amongst Bashar’s soldiers was that I was the most beautiful woman in the city. That damn captain must have bragged to his friends about our encounter.
This meant that every city guard had his eyes on me. I suspected that all of them were brutish like the captain. However, I could simply just stay hidden until Bashar revealed himself. With my trusty camera, I could take one good photo of him and become the frontrunner for every worthwhile photojournalism award out there.
That was where I encountered my first stumbling block. With the ongoing fighting outside with the rebels, Bashar was staying indoors. Instead of holding public rallies, he was giving speeches over radios. Rumor had it that he was afraid of snipers and drone strikes. It was unlikely given the tight security of the city but the paranoid warlord wasn’t taking any chances.
I thought about abandoning my plan. There was no point in risking my life here if Bashar wouldn’t show himself. However, I was in too deep now to leave the city now. It was still chaotic outside with rebels and Bashar’s men engaging in skirmishes. Furthermore, soldiers would ask why a woman would leave such a sanctuary.
At the same time, being a woman did come with its advantages. Bashar’s men were quite friendly with me. Not all of them were lust-crazed soldiers. Some were in charge of the cafeterias and housing. A bit of sweet talking got me a nice room to stay in with the best rations. The men told me the rumors that were going around the city.
Through them, I learned that Bashar had locked himself up in his palace. Only his most trusted advisors and bodyguards could enter. However, Bashar also invited in women who had caught his eye. The warlord had a taste for beautiful women. This was a weakness which I could exploit.
In fact, one man even suggested I enter the palace. He told me it would be better for me in there. Inside the palace, food was plentiful along with other luxuries. Of course, I would have to become Bashar’s mistress.
Chapter 3
The next day, I decided to make my way to the palace. If Bashar wasn’t coming out, then I would have to go to him. I hid my camera inside my clothes as I approached the palace entrance.
It was heavily guarded by several armed guards. Men patrolled the perimeter with dogs. Barbed wire lined the walls. It would be easier to be invited inside rather than sneak my way past the guards.
One such guard saw me approach the palace. “Halt! Who goes there?”
I pulled down my veil. “Please, let me into the palace. It’s too dangerous out here!”
The gesture momentarily stunned the man. The guard looked to be a commander of sorts. He took me into
a nearby shack that served as his office. Inside, he interrogated me. “What is a woman like you doing in a place like this?”
“Please, I came here to take refuge,” I pleaded, batting my eyelashes at him. “My name is Farah. Please let me inside the palace. I’ll do anything you want.”
The man gave me a telltale grin. “Anything?”
Before I could respond, he leaned in to kiss me. His hands reached behind to grope my buttocks. After my first encounter with the captain, I ready for this guard. Nevertheless, I knew I had to be careful. If he discovered that I was a man, then he would believe I was an assassin sent to kill Bashar. With that in mind, I kissed the man back with all of my strength.
The Trans Ultra Collection Vol 2 Page 13
