The transformation of closeted gay actor Ethan Miller into the ultra straight Senator Edward Miller caused more than a few ripples in this reality. Most of those effected by the "were breeder" curse had only altered their local reality, generally carving out a new existence from their old ones, with few permanent consequences.
However, the life of the new Senator from California had more lasting repercussions, as his sudden springing into existence bumped a sitting politician from their seat. This created a void that needed to be filled, and this allowed the curse to wreck even more havoc. After all, two days in DC was more than enough time for it to find a way to latch onto some more victims...
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One of these victims was Peggy Rogers, a bisexual intern who had been working for Miller's more liberal predecessor before coming in to find herself suddenly employed by a bigot who would regularly spew all sorts of insults towards "queer perverts who refuse to recognize that marriage is an union between a man and a woman."
She'd been able to handle it the first day, her perception of the altered reality informing her that her future was tied to his, whether she liked it or not. However, his hypocritical attempts at grab ass had sent her storming out on the second day, even as the Senator cat-called insults towards her sexuality. It was these more personal and direct insults that finally allowed the curse to take root within the twenty-something woman, having been confused by her (admittedly low) attraction to men.
She headed over to one of the local bars that was frequented by a lot of the Capitol staffers , looking for something fruity to drink and hoping that cute girl tending bar would like to have a little fun later. But even as she felt that first pang of arousal, something in the back of her mind told her this was wrong. Peggy shook her head, but the thought remained and seemed more insistent by the second.
The bartender who'd previously been her lusty focus poured her a drink and headed back down the bar. The whiskey and cola that she'd been served confused the intern, who could've sworn she'd ordered something else. However, Peggy decided to take a tentative sip, and found that it didn't burn so bad. And why should it? She'd been a whiskey drinker for years, hadn't she?
Her mind, a little confused by new memories and strong alcohol, didn't register the beginning of the changes to her attire. She'd come to work that day dressed in a modest brown pantsuit that did very little to accent her features. She'd worn some make-up, but nothing major with only the gold studs in her ears for jewelry.
The fabric of her slacks fused together, and began to slide upwards, changing in color from brown to dark blue, as the material switched from cotton to fine blend of silk and wool. Her legs goose pimpled slightly as they were exposed to the air, but the sheer pantyhose that now wrapped them seemed to highlight her long and lovely legs. The new skirt settled at a spot just above her knees, her hosiery suddenly clipping into the garter belt she wore on her now lusciously thick thighs. Under that, her modest white panties turned red, the thinning material in the back slipping snugly between her currently swelling buttocks. The intern unconsciously adjusted her position on the barstool, not realizing she was sitting taller now, thanks to her big and firm new ass.
As she downed the rest of her drink, her blazer and blouse began to alter themselves. The jacket quickly darkened to match her skirt, whiles its lapels widened and turned black. Its shoulders broadened with padding. A barely audible pop could be heard as an American flag pin came into existence on the right lapel. Her white blouse shimmered in the dim lights of the bar, shifting cotton to silk, as the material was pulled tight by the rapid expansion of her bustline. Her modest b-cups pumped up well into the d range, shredding her bra in the process, but its tattered remnants swiftly reformed into something strong enough to support them, with red lace trimming as well. Her blouse adjusted itself strategically to reveal a lovely view of her cleavage.
As her left hand brought her empty glass away from her plumping lips, there was a slight clinking sound as the heavy band of braided gold wrapped around it brushed against the glass. On her right hand, a thick golden wedding ring started to curl into sight around her ring finger as Peg drummed her long red nails on the bar.
"Another one, please."
The bartender obliged her, refreshing her jack and coke. Drinking heartily, Peg became a little nostalgic, not realizing that her memories had already begun changing to reflect her new persona. She remembered the first time she'd come in here so many years ago. An eager young Demo...Republican intern who had so many bright ideas about how to chang...preserve things as they ought to be. Her degree in literature was now in finance, as she'd always been better with numbers than words. Her formerly liberal values were quickly being swallowed up in a flood of conservative ideals, washing away any traces of her old sexual preferences for women. No, she'd been raised good and proper with strong family values.
Perhaps that was why she found then Congressman Miller so charming when they'd met. They'd shared so much in common, so it was natural that a budding friendship became a true partnership. Her eyes glanced down at that band of gold on her right hand, an image of her husband springing to mind. She'd hitched her wagon to his for sure, as memories of managing his first Senate election pushed their way into existence.
The curse began weaving more changes to her body, as it added a few decades of life in public service and private dealmaking. The telltale signs of aging like wrinkles and sagging skin had hidden by good makeup and quality surgery. She may have been her late forties but she looked almost a decade younger than that. Her now dark brown, which swallowed up its previous blonde state, was styled expertly in a professional bob cut that reached down her shoulders, allowing the silver earrings to dangle loose. The long string of pearls around her neck was knotted tastefully above the gap in her blouse. She was the very image of a Senator's wife, who just happened to one of the best lobbyists in town.
Pulling out her smart phone, Margaret Rogers-Miller called for an Uber. She'd enjoyed the trip down memory lane but there was a rally she needed to prepare for tomorrow. She knew Edward would be out late, ostensibly working but she knew he was at his favorite hotel with one of his regular escorts. She didn't mind at all. She'd long ago forgiven his dalliances so long as he was smart about them, and came home to her at the end of the day.
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Of course, Ethan Miller's return the next morning meant that someone had to fill his Senate seat. Who better than his wife, who'd picked his moral banner and rode it into office. Senator Rogers-Miller was one of the leading voices for conservatism in Washington D.C. Her speech against the "perverts twisting our values on themselves" that morning was a barn burner, getting massive coverage on the news networks and social media alike.
And just like that the curse was spread farther and wider than before...