THE GREAT POLLEN-CLANTON DEBATE
by Logjam 42
It was a large hall, the type usually used for these types of political functions. A fake rococo design with huge wall mirrors, chandeliers and even a mirror ball on the ceiling. A thousand or more of the nation’s top politicians graced the assembly and waited quietly while the speakers rustled their papers, waiting to begin. Security was tight. Double tight. I’d made sure of that.
As security chief for Hillary Pollen there could be no slip ups and with the artillery I was packing I could make sure there weren’t.
From her central table, the moderator spoke first, welcoming the speakers and audience to the first of the election debates. I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t there to listen. I was there to monitor my teams and keep an eye out for trouble. Representative Pollen spoke first, her podium ringed with microphones, relays and video feeds. She was a petite woman, blonde, a little chubby and wearing her usual tweed suit. She gave her standard party line about Americans and what the people wanted and deserved. I scanned the crowd.
Finally, thank god, it was over and Representative Sarah Clanton spoke. Tall, refined and elegantly dressed in a black gown which showed just enough leg and a hint of cleavage. Her pearls glistened in the spot light as the younger woman answered with her standard stump speech. Which she finished with her usual challenge to Hillary; who parried the comment and replied with her own insinuation. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone checked in. All was well.
Until I spotted Baker sidling to the front. Baker! What the hell was he doing there? Even at this distance I could see his clearance card. He was part of Clanton’s private security team, but just why was he working the center stage? Agents always work on the sides, not the center. Something was not right. When he put on his dark glasses, I froze. Some of the other guards shifted nervously and even the Secret Service agents were beginning to move.
Oblivious, Hillary was reciting her usual litany of simple minded platitudes, so soothing to her largely uneducated followers and ended with an attack on Sarah’s integrity. The old campaigner took in it stride, side-stepped the attack and returned a blistering repost which bordered on outright insult.
Baker, reached into his jacket and withdrew the ugliest handgun mechanism known to man. I knew, because I carried one just like it. The agents were running now, Baker was showing up on the TV feeds and they couldn’t have that. They were shouting into their mics and drawing their weapons. I was one of them. But we were all a little too late. Baker pulled the trigger and fanned the stage from right to left and back again. There were no reports. There wouldn’t be since it didn’t use gunpowder. It used high wavelength energy fields and the son of a bitch had it set on a wide beam. Its purpose was to fry those parts of the brain which held emotion in check, stun the target, strip away the greater cognitive skills and leave a defenseless, malleable blob of primitive protoplasm in its place. Non lethal of course.
Fletcher got to him first and Baker wouldn’t be doing anymore of anything for a long time. But as he fell, his gun flipped away through the air, twirling as it went, jammed wide open. It sprayed the entire room and everything in it, including me. Fortunately, I was already reaching for my own protective glasses when he fired and I hit the floor, twisting and curling to protect my eyes.
For a moment, the commotion went almost unnoticed. The moderator looked over her shoulder and both Hillary and Sarah paused to glance uninterestedly at the floor in front of them. Only the guards looked stunned as the weapon slid across the floor still skittering and chattering as it spun, spewing out 23gigawatts of nearly invisible mind bending light beams.
In a fraction of an instant, the most intelligent, dedicated and disciplined room in the world turned into a basket of hamsters.
Hillary looked at the moderator. She paused and started to stammer.
“Where I come from, the old hen once said to the blue dog, you can’t…no, that’s not right. I.. I mean, when the blue hen dogged the…the…I mean—sorry folks, I’ve just got to to to...a-hem, when the…when the mama mink smells a… no, ..it’s just too… hot in here to, to, too…hot.
“Just who are you calling a hot minx!?!” interrupted Sarah, “I may be hot, but I have never descended to the depths of depravity which my opponent and, and, and, and her so… called … party hearty ever ....no, I mean her party hardly ever, no, I mean… my poor deprived fellow Americans… I mean depraved Americans… I mean when the central sex-tions… no! I mean sects… no! not that kind of sex, but … I mean…for the liberal sects from across the aisle…I mean sects on the isle…I mean…”
“You’ve had SEX in the aisle!?!” screamed Hillary as she balled her fists and took a step toward her hated rival. “How many and where, you stupid cunt?” Dazed and confused as they were, everyone froze. Cunt filled the room. It hung in the air like an over ripe fart. Cunt-Cunt-Cunt-Cunt. The cameras kept rolling. Nobody moved.
Except Hillary who was starting to pickup steam. One step, two, she staggered a bit and got to three before she reached her target and swung a good left, tearing open her jacket seams. Sarah dodged it easily (she was a former wrestler) stepped back, grabbed Hillary by the shoulder, extended her leg and pulled her over into a very passable leg throw.
“I’ll sects who I want, when I want, where I want, want—er, what, er, I mean, I mean……” Sarah stopped, puzzled. She thought for a moment, finally gave up trying to talk in sentences and with a determined look, simply screamed, “You bitch!”
Hot and disheveled, she looked down on her splayed attacker, who was now laying flat on her face with her legs spread. The taller woman’s gown had ridden up high enough to reveal the tattoos on her inside left thigh. The cameras zoomed in. Though addled, she still had enough decorum to pull down her skirt hem, but she over compensated and in pulling down her skirt, managed to pull down her neckline as well. There was cleavage there alright. No doubt about it now.
The older, heavier woman heaved up, butt first, trying to get her feet under her, but only succeeded in splitting open her skirt, revealing a surprisingly well-shapen ass covered only by a thin white, satin slip. There were now two large, rounded mounds pushing through the tear in her skirt as she puffed to her feet. Sarah saw her opening, quickly reached out, and with a grin, shoved Hillary’s head down again and gave her butt several loud smacks with the other hand. Victory was hers and she turned to the crowd and flashed her famous crowd pleasing smile, which would have been more effective if her left breast weren’t almost fully exposed.
Hillary was squirming and struggling up again when one of her feet slipped out from under her, shot out and by accident swept Sarah’s long legs to the ground. She sat down hard with a splat.
Now that they were both down, the pride of the free world used her weight to her advantage and quickly scrambled on top, straddling her opponent’s leg and keeping it pinned while she jerked Sarah’s hairdo with one hand and swiped at her pearls with the other. She missed, but the stroke continued and Clanton’s already stressed Avanti gown ripped open to her belly exposing more tattoos from her wrestling days. Turns out the dress had been her only means of support and both breasts suddenly stood exposed, snapping to attention. Surprisingly conical, they glistened proudly, tall and firm as creamy ice cream cones. Too firm. Since she was on her back, they should have slid sideways across her chest and flattened out, but it took me a while to realize they were augmented. No wonder she was proud of her cleavage! It cost enough. But why had it taken so long for me to figure that out?
Hillary paused in her attack as she eyed the fascinating titties which had somehow taken center stage and jiggled in the limelight. “No, no, no, no, No!” she screamed, “You’re not getting away with that!” And arching back, she spread her jacket, ripped open her tailored silk blouse and proudly displayed her armor plated bra. Who knew that so much could have been so well hidden? I thought she was just fat! A quick snap and two huge gobs of breast meat flopped out for everyone to see. They were a wonder to behold. Awesome in their succulent magnificence, with large, saucer sized areola which had never before seen the light of day.
“Take this you over educated, jumped up wanna be!” And leaning forward, buried her opponents face in her bouncing fun bags.
“Mphpffff,” replied Sarah.
“You gussied up back water whore!” gasped Sarah, and in retaliation, the darling of the upper class tried to knee Hillary in the groin. It backfired. The knee ripped through what was left of the slip and caught her squarely in the middle of a very large and very juicy, vagina. Sppplorch! Hillary screamed, threw back her head and orgasmed on the spot.
Seeing the usually restrained Congresswoman arch and scream meant she must be in pain, so Sarah ground her knee in even harder and was rewarded by a flow of sloppy gook that soaked her nylons.
Surprised by the unexpected jolt of electric pleasure, Hillary instinctively leaned forward again to allow the knee even deeper access to her now burning fuck slot. And so, she was now face to face with the… very dark, very erect breasts of the woman she loaved…er, loathed… loafed?... er…huh? Impulsively, she slurped the right one into her mouth as far as she could get it. In her youth she had been a first class cocksucker. I’d seen her file. They didn’t call her Hillary the Hoover for nothing.
Sarah, in her turn, suddenly realized that her booby was being pleasured and abused by her now dominant rival. Unexpectedly, her nipples snapped upward a full inch. To feel the tip of Sarah’s tit suddenly stiffen beneath her tongue, the confused Hillary sucked all the harder. Tit for tat, or this for that or...that’s for tits or…something…say, this was wrong wasn’t it? What happened to the debate? Her thought process was interrupted when Sarah instinctively pawed at the ocean of mom meat that covered her face. Gasping for air she groped for and finally found Hillary’s likewise erect nipples and twisted hard. Another scream. Another orgasm. Another twist. Another scream. Another…What the fuck!?!
Meanwhile, I’d gotten to Baker’s still spewing weapon and flicked it off. There was a lot to do. Medic’s, damage control, a battalion of security, cleanup, public relations teams, even the police….and as I got up I gazed at a scene straight from a psychotic’s wet dream. In all directions. As far as the eye could see. A humping, fucking, cumming, nightmare. Pure, low-down dirty, filthy, muck-rutting. It was like watching a herd of oversexed pigs roll in slop. Total abandon and pure animal instinct in the sole pursuit of one brain burning orgasm after another.
What had been the staid leaders of our formerly great nation, were now fuck-drunk in their own juices. It wasn’t pretty. You might assume it would be somewhat erotic to see so many people balling at once. But if you walk into your nearest discount store and look around. Really look. Would you actually want to see those people naked? Yeah, the stock boy might be cut and the checkout girl might be cute, but really, there was a reason someone invented clothing.
Not that you could tell it now. The movers and shakers of both parties lay in piles covering the floor. Elegant evening gowns were now belts exposing the gyrating hips of brain dead suck monkeys. Titties twirled and bounced as half the audience fucked the other half in the ass as they leaned over the chairs in front of them. The Under Secretary of the Navy was kneeling over one of the Color Guard and cumming repeatedly into her perfectly made up face. She gulped and grabbed and couldn’t get enough of his thick streams of jism. Lashing his cock with her tongue, she sucked hard and gasped for more.
In the center area the tables had been commandeered into lazy-susans, five scalded wives laying on each, with the men standing bare-assed and ramming into the twat presented to him, until the table was spun around a notch and the next bitch could wrap her legs around the neck of whoever was fucking her now. The once white table cloth was thick with puddles of wine, gravy, crumbs, and pussy juice.
Turning back, there were screams and yells from the speakers platform as Sarah Clanton’s teenage daughter tackled one of the news crew and demanded she be fucked like a filthy whore, just like their mother. Likewise, Sarah the Slut’s younger sister was now pinioned on a Party Chairman and begging for a pussy to suck…just like her mother.
Meanwhile, Hillary’s husband was availing himself of the wife of the Speaker of the House, who in turn was tea bagging the Hispanic busboy. She had her face buried between his legs and his large hairy balls were thick with spit as she rammed her nose ever deeper into his tight, aromatic butthole. He would have fucked her face, but the cute, poly sci major wearing a ridiculous straw hat labeled ”Clanton Country!” was bobbing up and down on his dark cock, moaning and sucking to make all America proud. Someone had crossed out the ‘County’ and rewritten ‘Cuntry.’
There was a long line of Pollen’s cheerleaders stretching across the back of the stage. They had been bussed in just for the occasion, the cameras loved eye candy. Their white turtle necks, blue miniskirts and bright red butt cheeks contrasted nicely with the row of American flags, which were now festooned with bras and panties and tuxedos pants. Most were pawing the tits of the girl inline ahead of them.
My team, I had to get to my team! The radio wasn’t answering. Outside channels were gone too. Frantically, I searched for the backup team, Fletcher and Hollis. If anyone could keep control, they could. Those Marines can fight through anything! I found them locked in a furious embrace, naked from the waist down, each still holding his weapon and the other man’s piece. I turned my eyes away because their deep, soulful tonguing was more than I could stomach.
General Danowski of the Joint Chiefs also had his piece out. It was a surprisingly long 10 inch pecker which waggled to and fro in the breeze as he stood bare-ass naked except for his jacket and medals. Like some kind of King Kong he reared over his well fucked ‘prize’ and was defending her from all cummers. Er, comers. What was wrong with me?
“She’s mine, god damn it. MINE! And you can’t have her!!!!” He bellowed. Except the Trade Minister of China (who was writhing between his legs and out of her dress) was already looking a little bored and was giving an appreciative eye to what was once a crack FBI man. Or rather, the FBI man’s crack.
My dark glasses had shielded me from most of the effects, but I was forced to admit that even I was sporting a good sized pup tent. But … I had a job to do. The cuntry, no country, depended on it. The cunt-ty demanded it. No, my country demanded… no, my cunt-tree, no, my… my…right in front of me squirmed the former moderator, the black ice queen of QBC News. She was standing there with her back to me, pants on the floor, bent over and downing a load from one of the lighting crew who in turn was squirming on top of one of the handles on his instrument board. She was wiggling her dark ass in the air hoping that someone would fill her dripping twat better than the last guy. I could smell her from here. I could almost feel the heat radiate from her swollen pussy lips. Involuntarily, she snapped her quim at me. She was whining and making small whimpering sounds, like an animal in heat. Hell, she was an animal in heat!
But I had a j…j j job to do to dodo...do, I mean, I had to …well… a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. I could get this all under control. Later! And how often do you get to fuck a major personality? Keeping my glasses on, I unzipped and buried my swollen cock deep in her slippery gash in one long, slow motion. Without letting go of the other guys dick, she hunched her back, sucked even harder and groaned her pleasure that someone, anyone, had taken the time to satiate the needs of her sore, hot, fuck slot.
One of the musicians still held on to his trombone as something… animal, vegetable or mineral writhed between his legs. It turned out to be the chairman of Alderan Defense Corporation who always hedged his bets and contributed to BOTH candidates. He was sucking off the trombonist’s trombone and playing with his own small tactical missile. Several of the Texas delegation looked on and fired their concealed weapons into the air. “Yeehaw! Look at ‘em go!!!
A trio of blonde Alabama honeys were making a beeline for them. One walking, one stumbling and one crawling. They were sex mad, cock hungry and fuck drunk. Sluts on parade. The Texans met them halfway (still wearing their cowboy boots) calling out, “Come and get it sweet lil’ mamas! Daddy’s got a heavy load!!!” And they weren’t going to stop until they got it.
I could feel myself starting to climax in her sweet black ass and I spurted a huge load into the bucking nookie of the formerly top news anchor. Her ass stamp read “Sweet Lateesha.” It certainly was. But even her mother wouldn’t recognize her now, since her face and hair were layered with cock juice. And as soon as I slid out, she began shifting her ass left and right again, trying to tempt the next available prick. Butt cumming gave me a brief respite. I could think again!
One fat liberal cow had backed some little twerp into a corner with her ass and wasn’t letting him go. She glittered with jewels, but still looked like my grandmother. Worse, she seemed to enjoy being a vulgar-mouthed, dirty little girl. A total gutter slut. As he lay pipe as fast as he could, she screamed, “Faster, you filthy little pigfucker! Awg! Harder, you useless fucking asshole! Awg! Hurry up, you pissant sunofabitch! Awg! Momma’s got a… gotta… gotta…Ohhhhfuckingpisscuntshitfuckfuckfuckyfuck-ohyeahhhhhhhhh!!!!” Sweat dripped down his forehead and for a long moment she hugged her huge knockers to her chest which overflowed between her tiny bejeweled fingers. Whoever he was, he’d delivered, and then flopped exhaustedly onto the broad, hot ass of his attacker which still held him in place.
I’d held out some hope that by now everyone would have tired out. No such luck. Those who had been fucking in twos and threes were now fucking in threes and fours. There were more than a few daisy chains. Everyone there had three holes and everyone there was looking to fill every, last one of them. At the same time. What the hell had Baker done? He was a good man once.
I glanced up at the stage and the erstwhile leaders of the free world. They had forgotten whatever the hell their debate was about. They had abandoned their finely tweaked catch phrases, their carefully crafted talking points and both concentrated on their new positions as drunken street whores. Hillary and Sarah were sixty-nining each other like there was no tomorrow. It looked like true love. Kind of sweet in a way. Licking, slobbering and twirling their tongues around each others erect clits and sucking deeply from each others overflowing cunts, they paused only to gasp for air or grunt like pigs. They came, first one, then the other, then the next, over and over and over again. Occasionally, the one on top got her asshole reamed by somebody crawling through, which allowed the one on the bottom to lap up the drippings as they dribbled down her ass crack. Sarah had hung onto her pearls.
The public address system? Maybe someone could hear me? No, the place was built like Fort Knox. The satellite feeds? No hope there, the technicians were wrapped in their own wires and fucking what appeared to be the League of Woman Voters. I slipped and went down in a puddle of ooze I didn’t care to identify and came face to face with…Baker. “You bastard!” “What have you done!?!”
“What had to be done!” he gasped. “I adjusted the frequencies, removed the safeties and upped the amperage. Cost me a years pay.” There was blood on his lips. Fletcher had gotten through. “They had to learn! Politics is more than a race for power. It’s more than a game to see who can rack up the most points. It’s more than seeing who can lie the fastest. It has to be about the people and the average American who is depending on them to do their jobs. Their fucking jobs…” The blood was thicker now.
I was angry. The political process of debate and compromise had a long and honorable history. It had taken three thousand years to climb this far. “What do you think this will accomplish?”
“I couldn’t wait any longer. If it weren’t for that lucky shot…well…I’ll be dead in a few months anyway. Cancer. I had no hope, but they had to be shown. They have to realize we’re all alike inside, rich and poor, black and white.” The Ambassador from Nigeria staggered by carrying a petite ivory-skinned red head impaled on his prick. Her legs were crossed behind his back and her cunt was stretching around his black shaft, thick with pussy juice and glistening with fresh, hot spunk as she jounced up and down with each step.
“We’re all the same” Baker gasped, “We need honesty, integrity… respect…..”
I never learned what else we needed. But I needed a drink. So I staggered to what was left of the bar and shoved the showboating waitress onto the floor where she quickly crawled back and started humping my leg. I seemed to be one of the few still standing as I surveyed the wreckage of the BALL room. Well, we were certainly all equal now I thought. Studs, sluts, pricks and whores. Every last one of us. Nothing but throbbing pieces of fuck meat.
But if what Baker had said was true, it still didn’t account for the universal coverage of the weapon. It was precision instrument. Even on wide beam it was designed to hit one target and one only. I was getting a boner again. The waitress was panting as she ripped through what was left of my tux. Baker had planned well. The gun must have been set to the visual wavelengths. The room was full of mirrors, chandeliers, glass, reflecting surfaces everywhere. Guaranteeing universal dispersal. As the beams bounced, no one with their eyes open escaped. The brunette on the floor was riffling my balls like a pair of loaded dice and my dick was slowly rising again to half mast, the licking didn’t hurt either. Her warm breath was sweet with someone else’s cum. She fingered her own clit and starting to whimper. But what to do now? Someone should have noticed. The medics should be here by now. The outside. Where was the backup?
Then I remembered. This was the final debate of the election. A close race, the faithful of both parties had tuned in. I glanced at the banks of video cameras still humming away. From every news group and country on earth. They expected an 85 share at least. All over America. From Juneau to Miami. The brunette was now sucking my tightening prong for all she was worth and with her finger up my ass it was getting hard to concentrate again.
Sitting in front of me on the bar, a lawyer from the Justice Department offered me her tits, her legs wide apart and straddling my chest. She was guzzling Jack Daniels and poured some down her hooters to egg me on. It puddled in her open nookie. From behind her someone shoved a cock in her ear and she turned and gratefully started to gobble it down, when she suddenly stopped, thought for a moment and turned to me, “You know, it feels so natural to be up here in front of everyone, fucking complete strangers on top of the bar. Why didn’t I think of it before!!?!!”
The brunette waitress was making good headway with her gnawing and I could feel my load starting to make the trip all the way up from the bottom of my feet. It was going to be a big one. I glanced at Hillary and Sarah as they made the craven beast with two backs. I thought of the TV cameras and the 85 million Americans all glued to their sets. Then I thought of the international feeds. England, Russia, China… THE VATICAN! Well, fuck it. Nothing I could do now. This was way beyond my responsibility. And for the moment, it was good to start the new world off with a nice (here it comes) big (almost there) BANG!!!!