Steve was sick of politicians. The middle class male was otherwise unremarkable besides his uniformed view of politics. He was about late twenties, didn't go to college but managed to scrape together enough funds to start a roofing company. The onset of a beer belly curved his stomach and he was a bit wiry. Steve wasn't significantly tall or short and his face had no distinguishable features. Nevertheless, corruption still saw unlimited potential in him.
Steve had been contracted to repair the roof of a multimillion dollar home and the owner invited him to negotiate the terms before construction began. It was the opportunity of a lifetime! The spirit saw it that way too.
While the owner and Steve negotiated terms, minor changes began to take place. First his slight slouch straightened to a perfectly straight, confident stance. He became much more articulate. Gone was his the slang-filled diction and country accent. Neither of the men noticed.
Here is where the spirit of corruption stopped treading water. With its powers, Steve grew from an average 5”8’ to a respectable 6”2’. His gut disappeared as he stretched. Muscle expanded from his wiry frame. A six pack and two flat pecks began to press at the front of his t-shirt and the sleeves grew tight from his new, thick forearms. Steve now had a chiseled, jock-like body.
Next, his face began to rearrange itself. The once unremarkable features sharpened while his jaw broadened. The dull blue his eyes once were could not be compared to the new, brilliantly shocking color His sandy blonde hair became an onyx black and slicked back into a meticulous pompadour. His god-like face became neat shaven.
Last was his clothing. His t-shirt faded to white and split down the middle. The sleeves expanded into a full sleeve and the material shifted to a fine fabric. A heavy suit jacket materialized along with a silk tie. His jeans darkened into a matching black and the material became the same material as his jacket.
Steve had long begun to panic inside, but a force outside his control forced him to continue his discussion as if nothing was wrong. He was barely able to catch a glance in the mirror. What he saw horrified him. Steve looked just like a politician.
“That because I am one” he thought. “Wait! I hate politicians!” He wanted to scream but an invisible force still held him captive. His mind began to morph. His mentality switched from a small business owner to a corrupt politician.
“Focus! You need to focus on this.” He now thought. A rich cooperation owner had contacted him to discuss a possible bribe. He wasn’t a bad person, though. Money was money. Besides, it was his job as a congressman to make the best interest of the corporations look good. The common man didn’t supply his lifestyle.