Party Politics [Commission]

Stephen Smith looked at the latest poll numbers and sighed. At this rate, his party would only hold on to a handful of seats.

“What are we going to do, sir?” his aide anxiously asked.

Stephen thought for a moment. “Can I get a demographics breakdown for these polls?”

A junior staffer thrust a slim binder into his hands. He flipped through it for a moment before coming to a resolution. “We need some way to appeal to middle-class, college educated female voters. This whole thing is gonna hinge on swinging them. Any ideas?”

A staffer gingerly raised his hand. “Just shout it out, kid. This isn’t a classroom.”

“We, uh… we could try adopting a platform that unambiguously and strongly advocates for the rights of women to make decisions regarding their own bodies and health?”

“Ridiculous! Get this guy out of here!” A moment later, two burly members of his security detail dragged the staffer out of the room. “Any other ideas? That don’t involve compromising the appeal of our platform to men and centrists.”

There was a moment of awkward silence that seemed to stretch on and on. Finally, his aide piped up. “I think we need more female candidates.”

“But our candidates for this election have already been announced. Changing that looks like uncertainty! Weakness! The last thing we want is to lose the confidence of voters. Think, Janine, before wasting my time with this shit!”

“We don’t necessarily have to change any of our candidates,” Janine said.

“Huh? Explain yourself, woman!”

“Well…Rather than changing our candidates, we could change our candidates. Or, what I mean is that we can simply have a male candidate announce that they are, in fact, a transgender woman.”

Stephen thought for a moment. “Brilliant! But we’ll need someone who looks good in a skirt. Someone get me a list of our current candidates along with headshots.”

Another staffer placed a printout on his desk. He looked through it for a moment. “Hmm… Too fat… Too hairy… Too old… Chin is too square… Yes! This one should work.”

Janine craned to look at the headshot he was pointing to. “Adam Michaels, sir?”

“That’s the one! Send him a fax. Let him know from now on he’ll be, uh, Ada Michaels or something. You people can figure that out. And get him a new wardrobe!”

“Yes, sir,” Janine said.

“Dismissed!” Stephen shouted.

A moment later, Janine approached their communications specialist. “Reach out to Adam, please, and let him know what we talked about today.”

The specialist hesitated. “Should I actually fax him?”

“Just send an email,” Janine said. “And let him know that if he isn’t on board, we may have to pull our endorsement.”

The specialist shuddered. “On it, ma’am. What tone do you want?”

“Stern but kind, with an underlying edge of threat.”

“So the standard, ma’am. On it. I’ll inform you about any response.”

“See that you do. Now, where’s our stylist…?”

***

Adam Michaels stared at the email he’d just received in disbelief. They wanted him to pretend to transition into a woman so the party could get more votes? Absolute insanity.

But… he was already down as a candidate for his party and his predicted margin was way too narrow to overcome some kind of official excommunication. Of course, this little stunt would also probably make him lose, but at least he’d be in the good graces of some powerful movers and shakers. Surely they’d recognize how much he was sacrificing and see he was rewarded. The very least he deserved was some kind of cushy, high-ranking bureaucratic appointment.

Feeling resigned, he continued on reading the email. They wanted him to meet with a stylist/image consultant as soon as possible. He sighed and mentally cleared his calendar. A photo op at a local mall to shake hands and kiss babies was obviously lower priority than this mandate from on high. Or womandate, so to speak. He chuckled slightly. Good one, Adam.

He emailed the stylist with the address provided and soon they had arranged to meet the next day. He wondered if a stipend of some sort would be provided for the, ahem, transformation. From what he’d heard, women’s clothing could be quite expensive.

The next day, Adam was met in the driveway of his modest, two story house by a brusque woman with a firm handshake and impeccable style. Moments later, an unmarked white van pulled up by his curb and opened up to reveal several burly men who carried in what looked like an entire new–female–wardrobe, along with various wigs, cosmetics, and some boxes he wasn’t sure how to identify.

“Wait, how did you know my sizes?” he asked the woman, who had just introduced herself as Sharon Faust.”

She raised a single sculpted eyebrow. “I could accurately gauge sizes from your appearances in town hall debates. You should buy your suits one size smaller, by the way, if you insist on getting them off-the-shelf. Now, would you prefer to be a brunette, dirty blonde, or auburn?”

Adam was feeling a little overwhelmed by just how fast all of this was moving. “Are you going to dye my hair?” he asked.

Sharon shook her head. “That takes quite a while and can degrade hair texture. Much easier if we just use wigs for now. Unlike some of my assignments, the worst case scenario of a wig falling off is mild embarrassment. After all, your cover story is that you’re a recently transitioned transgender woman”

“What kind of assignments?” Adam asked.

“That’s classified,” Sharon said. “Color? If you don’t respond within the next–” she glanced down at her slim silver watch “–fifteen seconds I’ll have to choose for you.”

“Uh, brunette,” Adam chose, basically at random.

“Excellent. Follow me inside.”

Adam followed helplessly into his own house, feeling like he’d totally lost control of the situation.

“No wife or children?” Sharon asked.

Adam nodded, grimacing slightly. He’d heard many times before that having a wife would aid his electability, but he rarely had much time for dating, and didn’t have much luck when he did.

“That should aid the plausibility of the story, then,” Sharon said. “You can simply explain you didn’t feel comfortable dating while presenting as male. Now, would you prefer to date men or women as Ada?”

“W-what?” Adam said. “I didn’t know anything about this. Do you really need that kind of information?”

“Well, I believe it would aid the plausibility of your cover story, but you are of course free to disregard my expert advice,” Sharon said. “However, at the very least, you will need an escort to the upcoming gala.”

“Oh, right, the gala,” Adam muttered. “I hadn’t even thought about that.” The gala was held annually and was a major fundraising event, as well as an opportunity to network. As much as he wanted to, Adam really couldn’t miss it.

“Are there any particular individuals, for example, who you would wish to escort you?” Sharon asked. “Ideally one who is age-appropriate and reasonably photogenic.”

Adam thought for a moment. Frankly, he didn’t know a lot of people who fit even those broad criteria. Much like dating, he didn’t have much time to cultivate friendships. The closest thing he had to a friend, really, was a candidate from a neighboring district who he’d gotten on well with during the few times they’d interacted at townhalls or party events.

“Shaun Westin, perhaps? He should be attending anyway, and he’s about my age and, I suppose, reasonably good looking.” To be honest, when he’d first laid eyes on Shaun he’d felt a burst of jealousy at the man’s muscular build and square chin. But that resentment had mostly faded after it turned out that Shaun was just a pleasant and charming guy to interact with.

“Westin? Yes, I believe he is currently single. That should work nicely. Now, I’m going to show you how to do a basic daytime look. Please attend closely.”

Adam gulped. “Can’t I just have a makeup artist do that stuff before events?”

“Well, you cannot present as a woman only as events or the whole story will be blown to bits the moment you encounter a paparazzo,” Sharon said. “But not to worry. Few would expect you to immediately be perfect at makeup. We simply need you to seem like you’re trying in everyday life.”

“W-wait, so I have to do this all the time?” Adam cried. “This was bad enough when I thought it was just for public appearances.”

Sharon shrugged. “Again, you are free to disregard all that the party is trying to do for you, but such an action will likely not land you in their good graces. Now hush, please, and pay attention.”

Adam shut up and tried his best to follow along. He tried to rationalize this as not being so bad. After all, he’d worn makeup during plenty of television appearances. Admittedly, that was just to avoid his face looking shiny or washed-out, but the principle was the same, right?

He kept on telling himself that until Sharon carefully lowered a wig onto his head and clipped its built-in net into place. He stepped back and looked in the mirror.

Yeah, this wasn’t the same at all.

The woman who stared back at him wasn’t exactly the most attractive in the world, and various things–like her adam’s apple, tall height, and flat chest–gave away that she was likely assigned male at birth. But nonetheless, his brain kept trying to process her as a woman.

He blinked. It didn’t help. He felt really weird.

“You’re smiling,” Sharon pointed out as he turned to look at her. “Excellent job getting into the role.”

He hadn’t even realized he was smiling.

***