There was a strange sound. A sort of "v-v-v-i-p" that was followed by a "click-clack" that soinded like a stone being dropped on the floor. Willard Romney looked up...
...and saw a stone. A small, red stone in the middle of the floor.
In the former cell of the three criminals, the distinguished guests continued the tour of the prison. The cell was empty...had not been inhabited for quite some time. They...had destroyed themselves. One after another, each trying to help the ones before...they'd destroyed themselves.
"And this is the interior of one of our cells..." said Warden Chelsea Rodham. She was a big, solid, snearing girl. Dressed in a black suit, with a red tie and an American Flag lapel pin, she was proud that at her age...she had been given such an important position. A cruel tyrant, she made sure that nobody could ever question her devotion to the GRAND OLD PARTY. And...she was proud to be able to flaunt her power before her mother...
General Hillary Rodham chuckled at her beloved daughters devotion to her position. Wearing her Nazi-inspired black dress uniform with highly polished jackboots, silver deaths-head buttons and chest full of metals, she was the great hero of the American military. Responcible for the deaths of tens of millions of people, each tombstone was an object of pride. She smiled, her monocle flashing...her swagger stick clenched in hands that had signed the orders that had caused the deaths of so many...
"Yes, quite impressive..." burbled the bloated, wobbling globe of pale and pasty blubber that waddled along beside them. She was bigger than Michelle, and her massive body was clothed in silken gowns, glistening with jewels and wrapped in furs. She was Wilma Jefferson Limbaugh - the arrogant, snobbish wife of Rush Limbaugh.
On one hand, Michelle Dunham was delighted in the changes this batch of traitors had made in themselves. She'd watched them each try to 'rescue' the rest of them, but each had only wrapped themselves deeper and deeper in layers of red-tinged reality. The look on Joeseph Apples' face was priceless as Michelle picked up the stone...and...and...
She looked at them...and her old memories rushed forward. She wanted to weep for the people they'd been...and for the person she'd been. Michelle looked at Joseph Apple, who glared at her...and she looked at the stone...and she mumbled aloud "I wish this stone was in the hands of someone who could use it correctly." as she brushed away a tear. Her old feelings were seeping into her new mind, and a faint feeling of shame had crept into her evil heart. She wanted to be the person she was. Wanted to be this way forever. Wanted to never be the old Michelle. She LOVED her body...her mind...her wicked soul...but somehow, she had to do something to help...to make up for what she was...
***
Joe Apple was shocked by what had happened. First to Bill, Hillary and their daughter...and now, to himself. He sat in the Secretary of States car, dressed in the suit that Michelle Dunham had sent to him. She sat beside him, her vast and bloated bulk pressed against him.
"Sit up straight, Joe. And remember...you're a Dunham now. You are my property. You are my slave. I OWN you, Joseph. Legal and binding. My husband has his body slaves, programmed to love him...and now you are mine. Do you understand?"
Joseph Dunham understood. He'd been quick conditioned - a sloppy job with the dials set on 'High' and no safety conditioning - and he could barely keep his hands off of her glorous chocolete fatrolls. He was still himself...but now, he was utterly obsessed with Michelle Dunham. The smell of her...the sound of her...the delicious FEEL of her soft, dark blubber. He knew his conditioning was permanent...and he was glad. But more than that...he was happy to be leaving. Happy to be leaving with her...because in her own strange way, SHE seemed to understand him.
"I was different before, Joseph. I KNOW it now...and while I love myself..."
"I love you." moaned Joseph, kissing her smooth, soft hand.
She smiled, not cruelly "...I also remember that the world was better. So...I've sent the stone away. Hopefully, it's in the right hands. I remember the truth about you...and in a very real way, I love that truth. Your strength of character..."
Josephs lips found hers, and she paused...then kissed him back. He was a strong man...and a good man. If she was careful...she could draw from that strength...and make herself stronger.
Meanwhile, Williard Romney was reaching for the Republican Stone.
