Chapter Two - July

“So, we are in agreement,” Sean Templeton, the chairman of the Federal Election Commission, declared. This was the first time Thomas Blair and Carmen Lopez had been in the same room since either of their unorthodox entries into the Presidential race.

Thomas was a young, popular businessman who had been thrust into the limelight after the former Republican Presidential nominee, Marcus Cain, fell in a fatal helicopter crash. Despite his lack of political experience, Thomas was a smooth talker and a family man. The Republican committee knew they needed someone who fit his profile if they were going to win this shortened campaign.

Carmen Lopez was Thomas’ polar opposite. A young 39-year-old Senator from California, Carmen knew how the political system worked, and her election experience meant she knew how to appeal to the common American voter. While Thomas built his reputation on being an ordinary family man, Carmen was looking to become not only the first female US President, but the first gay President of Latin descent.

“We will hold a debate at the end of the month and a second debate in October,” Sean continued. They met at the FEC offices in Washington to determine the rules and schedule for this short race. “You both must announce your VP pick by next month, and we will hold a single Vice Presidential debate in September.”

The pair agreed on the terms and signed the contract, committing to following the rules. They stood up and shook hands amicably.

“Good luck, Ms Lopez,” Thomas said, firmly gripping the Latina’s hand. “May we both lead a clean race.” He flashed his charming smile.

“Absolutely, Mr Blair,” Carmen replied. “May the best woman win.” Her jovial comment prompted a chuckle from Thomas’ lips as they broke up the handshake and went their separate ways.

Carmen grinned at her verbal jab. She always enjoyed getting the last word. As Thomas joined his wife in the corridor and the FEC commissioners stepped through the door, the brunette Latina was left on her own.

“Wasn’t that a pleasant meeting?” The Presidential candidate let out a yelp as the short, green-skinned man that Carmen met in the California public bathrooms a couple weeks ago appeared out of thin air behind her. “I don’t care for the fake pleasantries myself. Now, can we have some fun?” Mr Purple appeared eager to get started.

Carmen paused. A few days ago, she signed a mystical contract with the purple-suited demon. The agreement guaranteed her the Presidency in return for a special undisclosed favor. Mr Purple offered the deal to both candidates, but Carmen was the only one to sign the dotted line.

“Nada, just wait a moment,” the fiery brunette exclaimed. Now Carmen had time to think through her actions, she had second thoughts. She was focused on delivering a message of positivity and had no idea how this underhanded deal could turn out. “I’m up two points in the polls, and our strategy is on point. I don’t think I’m going to need your help, after all.” She told the little green man.

Mr Purple groaned. “Don’t need my help?” he bellowed out. “How dare you. I hope you understand the contract has already been signed. Whether you want my help or not, you are obliged to win the Presidency and grant my boss a favor,” he spoke firmly.

Carmen lowered her head. She hated when men spoke down to her like that, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. She had signed the contract, and despite her political experience, she had no idea how to terminate a magical agreement from hell. “Yes, I know,” she said carefully. “However, I don’t want anything to happen that may paint me in the wrong light, and I feel confident about our ground game,” the brunette explained. “If there’s a chance I can win fair and square, I’ll take it.”

The green man opened his mouth to speak, but Carmen interrupted before he could. “Don’t worry. I know what I signed, and your boss will get his favor either way.”

Mr Purple reluctantly nodded his head. He wanted to have some fun today. “Very well,” he sounded disappointed. “We’ll play it your way. Let me know if you change your mind.” He flashed a charming smile at the lesbian Latina. He disappeared instantly before Carmen had the opportunity to ask how to contact him.

Once left alone in the meeting room, Carmen glanced around to ensure there were no witnesses before grabbing her jacket and heading back to HQ.

❖

Two weeks had passed since the pair agreed on the election rules, and both campaigns were off to a running start. Thomas was alone with his campaign manager and sidepiece, Carly Bush, in the Republican election office headquarters preparing for tomorrow’s debate. With the election cycle being so short this time around, this debate was the first opportunity for the American people to understand what their Presidential hopefuls stood for. Thomas was quietly confident the public would see sense, but he knew how vital a successful performance tomorrow would be.

The blond campaign manager idly played footsie with her boss as they reviewed her key messaging. “Stop for a moment, babe,” Thomas said with an unusual seriousness. “Tomorrow is important. We need to focus on the task at hand.”

Carly giggled, “Thomas, relax,” she said jovially, running her well-manicured hand along his arm. “Trust me. You have this in the bag.” The blond always had a way to calm the wealthy businessman down and prop up his ego. “She has no real argument. She will talk about how the world needs a female president, and she will be the first to do this and the first to do that. You just need to focus on the real issues,” she smiled.

Thomas laughed at her brazen directness. Carly continued, “Don’t let her or the moderators dictate the conversation. Focus on the economy and the real issues,” Carly ran her long red fingernail along the hem of the businessman’s pants. “John from Ohio doesn’t care about the gender of the President or who they sleep with. He cares about providing for his family and the safety of his community. That’s what you focus on to win this election.”

Thomas brushed a blond strand of hair away from the pretty blond’s face. “With a speech like that, perhaps you should run for President,” he grinned.

Carly lightly giggled, and the pair slowly leaned in for a kiss until Thomas noticed movement from the entrance doors. He broke it off, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket.

“Babe!” Thomas exclaimed, watching his dark-haired wife enter the offices. He stood up and approached the well-dressed busty woman. Kendra was 44 years old and had enjoyed 15 years as a centerfold model. The inevitable signs of aging had begun to appear on the former Playboy playmate’s face, although she had spent a ton of money trying to slow down the process.

The wealthy businessman wrapped his arms around his wife and gave her a long, sensual kiss. Carly rolled her eyes in the background. “What brings you here?” Thomas inquired.

“I’ve come to take you home,” she said dryly. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, and you can’t be staying up here until the early morning hours.”

Thomas chuckled. “I can think of much better things to be staying up all night for,” he jovially remarked as he squeezed his wife’s asscheeks.

“Thomas!” she scolded him playfully but never removed his hand. “Let’s get home and see where the night takes us.”

The Presidential nominee draped his arm over Kendra’s shoulder and began leading her out of the offices. Before he left, he turned his head towards his beautiful campaign manager. Carly looked disappointed, but she knew it was just a harmless fling, or so Thomas thought. Maybe he was wrong.

❖

“Good evening, and welcome back to the first US Presidential debate, live on ANN, cable number one news network.” Keith Newsman welcomes the audience back after a brief commercial break. “Ms Lopez and Mr Blair have gotten their opening statements out of the way. Now it’s time for the hard questions.”

Thomas gave a charming grin to the camera as the candidates were reintroduced. He wore a dark gray suit with a red tie, matching his party’s colors. He glanced over at Carmen, his opponent, who had tried to minimize her curves with a light blue tailored suit. He couldn’t deny that the Democrat was incredibly attractive. It was just a shame she batted for the other side, Thomas thought.

“Mr Blair,” the primary moderator continued. “Much has been made of the historic nature of this election. However, you have argued that the priorities of the American people are the same now as they were twenty years ago, namely the economy. Can you explain how your economic policies will make Americans more prosperous than that of your counterpart?” It was the perfect question to start the businessman off.

“Thank you for the question, Keith,” Thomas began. “I have invested in over 100 companies and know exactly what it takes to stimulate the economy and drive prices down. Our current policies introduced by the outgoing Democratic President make it difficult for business to compete with cheap overseas imports, and they discourage risk-taking.” He paused momentarily. “My opponent has never addressed these damaging policies or promised to roll them back. I promise to repeal these economy-stifling policies on day one should I become your next President.”

Following his answer, his supporters gave him a raucous round of applause, and the Independent section of the audience cheered appreciatively. Thomas Blair stood a little straighter after taking in the positive reaction to his message. This debate was going great.

After several economic and public safety questions, Carmen was eventually asked about the historic nature of a young, LGBTQ+ Latina being on the verge of becoming America’s next President.

“As a woman, a person of Mexican descent, and a member of the LGBTQ+ community, it would be an incredible honor to break barriers and serve as the first female, Mexican-American, and gay President of the United States. It would not only be a personal achievement, but it would also be a representation of progress and inclusivity in our country.” The brunette Latina said.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas interjected. “Is this question truly necessary?” His comment sparked a gasp from the audience. “Don’t get me wrong, we will eventually have a female President, and we will have a Latin and gay president, but it has to be the right candidate at the right time. We need to look past labels and study the individual. Yes, Ms. Lopes is all those things, and more power to her, but she is also a West Coast elitist Politician who is a symptom of the problem we have in Washington, not the solution.” The businessman’s supporters cheered his remarks. “The majority of Americans care about putting food on the table and sending their children to safe schools. Their lives won’t change because of the demographic of the next President, and we should be focusing on the real issues.” Thomas shut down Carmen’s argument so powerfully that she didn’t have a rebuttal. The California Senator was visibly frustrated after the exchange.

“And onto the closing statements…” Despite an agreement that Carmen would have the last word in the first debate, the moderators took the Senator by surprise and asked her to go first.

The brunette Latin was knocked off balance and stumbled through her closing arguments. She prepared her final remarks to focus on America’s readiness for something new and fresh, but Thomas’ strategy effectively diminished those topics. He had told the public they shouldn’t care about those things, and she didn’t want to play into his hands. The resulting product was a bumbling mess. The Republican had undoubtedly won this round.

“Thank you, Ms Lopez,” Cindy Anchor said sympathetically. “Mr Blair, your closing statement, please.”

“Of course,” Thomas said. It was time to bring it home. “This election is not a referendum on how misogynistic or homophobic this great nation is. We will have a female President in my lifetime. Hell, it may even be Senator Lopez.” He started. “But when you choose your next President, you should be deciding which candidate is most likely to work for you.”

“I am not questioning Senator Lopez’s competence,” Thomas continued. “She is a young, passionate, highly qualified individual.” Considering Carmen was only six years younger than the entrepreneur, his comment came off as patronizing. “However, her record as a US Senator has proven that she is part of the swamp. We need a leader who will reform Washington and remind every Politician of who they work for.” Carmen attempted to respond to his comments, but her microphone was muted.

“I built a multi-billion dollar company with nothing but hard work and a small inheritance from my father,” Thomas turned the focus of conversation to himself. “I didn’t need to run for President, but I owe a debt to this great nation that has given me so much, and I will fight tirelessly for the American people over the next eight years should you put your faith in me. I promise you that.”

The smartly dressed businessman received a standing ovation for his closing statements, and he charmingly smiled at the audience as the moderators concluded the debate.

Following the conclusion of the broadcast, the two opponents met in the center of the stage for an amicable handshake. “Great debate,” Thomas whispered. “I thought you would put up more of a fight, but I guess you can’t handle the national stage. You may as well concede the race now and spare yourself from a humiliating election night.” His words were drenched in condescension and sarcasm. Carmen never took the bait, instead glaring at her opponent and traipsing off stage. She stormed past her girlfriend and campaign support officer and headed to the nearest restroom.

❖

“Arghhhhhh!” Carmen screamed out after splashing water on her flushed face in the public bathroom. Her hands were shaking, and her teeth were shattering. How could she fail that debate so profoundly? And how dare that arrogant, self-righteous piece of shit humiliate her that way?

“Well, I think that went well.” Glancing over her shoulder in the mirror, Carmen noticed the familiar purple-suited, green-skinned man appear behind her. The demon was grinning widely, a sharp contrast to the Democratic candidate’s own defeated demeanor.

“What the hell do you want? Is nowhere sacred?” Carmen turned around and furiously shouted at the short man inside the women’s bathroom. “Have you come to revel in my humiliation?”

“Not at all,” the green man stated. “Well, maybe a little,” he laughed. He was told this woman was tough as nails, and now she was on the verge of tears after one bad performance. Maybe his boss had made a mistake with this agreement. “I was just wondering if you were done playing your silly games yet?”

Carmen sighed and stared the short man in the eye. Mt Purple smiled; he had her full attention now. “That's better,” he stepped closer. “You just need to say the word, and we can get started. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He winked.

Carmen clenched her fists. The demon had creepy vibes, but her arrogant opponent had humiliated her in front of the entire world. She wanted revenge. She needed revenge. She wanted to give the cocky businessman a taste of his own medicine. “Okay,” she reluctantly replied. “Do your worst!”

Mr Purple nodded, and his grin grew wider. “Very good,” he said triumphantly, rubbing his hands together. “This is going to be fun. Enjoy your Presidency.” With his final comment, the short demon disappeared into thin air and left Carmen alone again in the bathroom. The Senator shuddered; did that actually happen? What had she just agreed to?

❖

Just across the hall inside the Republican nominee’s dressing room, the atmosphere was vastly different. There were jubilant celebrations as Thomas’s team congratulated the businessman and dubbed him the next President of the United States. He took in the acclaim but toned down their expectations, reminding his followers that they had a long way to go before they could claim victory. However, he urged them to savor the moment and enjoy the evening.

Everyone turned their attention to the television set on the wall as the news networks reacted to the debate. A snap poll from a conservative network showed Thomas overturning a two-point deficit to hold a six-point lead over his Democratic opponent. The poll prompted another celebration from the team, showing how much of an impact his performance had on the shortened race. It was proof that the audience was buying into his message.

Thomas quietened the room. “A toast,” he raised his glass in the air. “We had our first of many successes this evening. There is still a lot of work to be done, but if we keep driving this momentum forward, nothing will stand between us and the White House.” The campaign team cheered and hoisted their drinks in the air, clinking glasses in celebration.

As he filtered through the crowd and mingled with his supporters, one junior campaign volunteer attempted to grab Thomas’s attention. “Mr Blair, Mr Blair!” He called out urgently.

“Now, now… Sorry, what’s your name?” Thomas asked.

“Darryl, Sir,” the young African American volunteer replied.

“Darryl, yes,” Thomas continued before placing a drink in the man’s hand. “Calm down and have a drink. You earned it. We all earned it.”

As he began to turn away, Darryl placed the glass down and grabbed the businessman by the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sir. But this cannot wait.” He said before thrusting a newspaper into the nominee’s hands.

Unimpressed, the Presidential nominee unfolded the paper and read the headline on the front page. Suddenly, his elated expression turned to bemusement before settling on abject horror. The color drained from his face. “Where did you get this?” He furiously asked the volunteer.

“An editor at the Washington Chronicle handed me an early copy,” the dark-skinned man replied. “They are running the story in tomorrow’s edition.” There was pity in his voice.

Thomas stared horrifically at the ominous headline. ‘PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES DIRTY LITTLE SECRET.’ There was an image of Thomas and his campaign manager on the front, which made the nominee’s stomach churn. The story was entirely false, but he had been in enough tabloids to know how far a fake story could travel before anyone accepted the truth.

“Call Carly and the team,” he commanded. “Crisis meeting at HQ. Now!” He proclaimed before taking the paper and rushing out of the dressing room. He needed to get ahead of these disgusting rumors before they took on a life of their own.

❖

“Thomas Blair, the Billionaire businessman touted to become the next President of the United States after a commanding first debate performance, has a dirty little secret he’s been keeping from the electorate.” Darryl Mooney read the article to the team at Thomas’s request.

The Republican nominee held his arm comfortingly around his wife as the campaign volunteer read the degrading, fabricated, unpublished story. He had read the article a dozen times, but it tortured him further hearing them being read out by someone else.

“Mr Blair has styled himself as the traditional family candidate,” Darryl continued reading. “He contrasted his opponent’s working class, diverse background by portraying himself as highly intellectual and incredibly successful.”

“I don’t understand. That’s all true,” Kendra interrupted. “Where is the scandal.” Thomas tightened his grip on his wife; he knew what was about to come.

“Thomas Blair is a big fraud who never completed high school and never attended college.” The crowded HQ gasped. Surely that wasn’t true. “He is unable to think on his feet and regularly follows a script given to him by the real brains of the operation, his campaign manager, Carly Bush.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to an amused Carly. She feared the worst when she saw the image of her and Thomas together on the front page. The actual story turned out to be far more humorous to her. She knew it would be a ballache for the team to fight against in the middle of an election campaign. Still, the allegations were so preposterous she had no idea how anyone could believe them. “Well, it’s obviously absurd,” she finally retorted before the room turned their attention back to Darryl.

“Mr Blair is not quite the traditional family man we all thought he was,” Jared read further. “He started crossdressing from an early age and hasn’t worn male underwear for over twenty years.” A smattering of chuckles followed the latest statement, prompting Thomas to glare furiously at several culprits. “But things took a turn when he met Miss Bush. The couple has been engaging in a kinky relationship where Carly definitely wears the trousers.”

Thomas shook his head. How could a reputable news outlet allow such malicious filth to be distributed? “Has anyone called Judge Johnson? He owes me a favor and needs to put an injunction on the story.”

“The paper goes to print in an hour. We would never get the judgment in time.” One advisor sympathetically replied.

“What’s more, Thomas Blair’s tiny micropenis has been locked up by his faithful Dominant campaign manager, and he dresses in feminine attire whenever they are alone together.” Darryl continued reading. “We are not one to judge what someone does in the bedroom, even behind their wife’s back, but as a man who has conveyed traditional conservative values, it seems to be another case of ‘do what I say, not what I do.’”

“Enough!” Thomas exclaimed. “This is obviously a gross smear drummed up by the perverse Democratic campaign after a catastrophic debate performance. No one is going to believe any of this.”

“That may be true,” David Hollinger, a senior ad campaign advisor, spoke up. “But there is one way to refute the story right now and prove it’s all a bunch of bologna.” Thomas raised an eyebrow as he waited for the suggestion. “Well, drop your trousers and prove it.” A couple of nearby men attempted to hide their amusement.

“Absolutely not,” Thomas retorted immediately. “I am a respected businessman and a Presidential candidate. I’m not lowering my pants for anyone.”

There was an awkward silence as the group whispered amongst themselves. Thomas was busy being calmed down by his former playmate wife as Carly cleared her throat and spoke.

“It’s not the suggestion you want to hear,” the blond bombshell empathized, “but I think it is the best way to quash those rumors before they start taking on a life of their own.” She lowered her head. “Any of us could stand at the podium and denounce the story, but this is the only way to deliver concrete evidence. So if you want your campaign to survive, I suggest you drop them.”

Thomas parted his lips to retort, but he knew his beautiful campaign manager was right, and her sensual voice sounded so commanding suddenly. The rumor mill would continue to churn until he provided evidence of the lies, no matter how temporarily humiliating it may be. He wondered if this was the Democrat’s plan in the first place, forcing the popular businessman to embarrass himself to refute a baseless claim.

Reluctantly, the Republican candidate nodded. “You don’t have to do this,” Kendra told her husband as she comfortingly gripped his arm. However, the decision had been made; Thomas needed to do this.

Thomas took a deep breath and slowly unbuttoned his tailored pants, before embarrassingly lowering them to the floor. Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when he glanced across at the horrified and amused stares in the room. In fact, everything suddenly felt off. He peered down at his crotch, and his eyes widened with fear.

Rather than the checkered blue and white boxer shorts he had put on that morning, he was wearing a pair of pink high-cut g-string panties. What the hell had happened? Had he been drugged? “S- something is wrong…” the businessman stuttered.

“Drop the panties,” he heard Carly command. She was his campaign manager. She worked for him. But why did her voice sound so dominant and irresistible? The Republican nominee reluctantly lowered the pants, and a hoarse chuckle from the male contingent of campaign assistants ripped through Thomas’s soul.

His previously impressive cock was encased in a tiny, 2” long pink plastic chastity cage. There was no way his penis would have fit inside that cage. Had it shrunk? Thomas stared down at the plastic device in horror. He was frozen in abject humiliation.

“Look!” A member of his team pointed to a small tattoo just above Thomas’s crotch. Thomas had never received a tattoo in his life, believing they were for the uneducated. However, in plain view of everyone was a cursive tattoo in Barbie font labeling the masculine businessman as a ‘Bimbo Bitch’.

Secondary to the tattoo, Thomas noticed that he no longer possessed any pubic hairs. In fact, his skin felt incredibly smooth and sensitive underneath his clothes. He was completely hairless from the neck down.

Thomas promptly lifted his new panties back up, followed by his trousers, in an attempt to hide his humiliation. Was this a dream? Was he hallucinating? There had to be a logical explanation for this.

“Is that his key round her neck?” Suddenly, the attention turned to Carly Bush. The busty blond wore a necklace with a small golden key hanging loosely over her chest. She held the key in her hands. She had never worn a necklace like this before. What was going on? “Does that open his cage?” Someone asked.

“So it’s true,” another assistant chipped in. Kendra loosened her grip on her husband’s arm and stormed out of the building; she couldn’t take any more of this. “Kendra!” Thomas cried out before covering his mouth. Rather than the suave, confident tone he usually conveyed, his words were soft and effeminate.

Thomas parted his lips and gasped sharply. As he considered running after his loving wife, he felt the straps of a bra over his shoulders and the painful cinching in his waist. Panties were not the only feminine garment he wore under his suit, although he never dared open his shirt to confirm his fears.

Thomas’s blond campaign manager approached and grabbed him by the arm, leading him towards a private office room. “Carly, what’s happening?” His voice sounded weak and submissive.

“Shut up,” she commanded, and he did. “Something weird is happening to both of us, and we need to get you out of here.”

In the far corner of the room, the green-skinned demon hid in the shadows and enjoyed the archaic scene playing out in front of him. This was just the beginning of Thomas’s downfall, he thought. Mr. Purple straightened his jacket and clicked his fingers, disappearing back to the underworld, leaving the poor Republican to acclimatize to his new reality.

End of Chapter Two