Juan was never interested in politics. What he was interested in was smoking pot, getting fucked by hot dudes he met off Grindr, and re-watching old cartoons he’d seen a thousand times before.
The world’s recent right-wing turn was alarming though. His parents were Columbian immigrants, while skyrocketing inflation threatened to run his father’s already struggling restaurant straight into the ground. Their current living situation, like that of many in America, felt untenable and it was hard to say what would happen in the next few months let alone a few years. Juan needed answers or at least the chance to not feel so powerless in his life, and so he went to his nearest convention center and began scouting for a political party to join.
Enjoying a few hits from his vape pen before he went inside, Juan walked past the American flag draped tables and colorful banners in a comfortable fuzzy haze. He was a tiny person in a wide sea of people, making him feel small and insignificant in comparison.
His smart friend Mustafa was a canvasser for the Democratic Party, so Juan went there first even if he expected very little from them. They’d let him down a million times before and it seemed they were more insistent on ‘law and order’ than anything else.
By the time he arrived at their table, Mustafa was nowhere to be found and Samir ended up trapped in a conversation with an overeager beach blonde twink who when confronted with any of the Party’s consistent failings accused Samir of being a self-hating gay Trump supporter.
Further inside where the crowds drastically thinned out were the booths of third parties. But these too, proved to be a seeming dead end.
Gay marriage protections? Too controversial.
Protections for immigrants? We’ll host a silent protest in the senate for ten minutes.
Rising housing costs? We’ll vote for a public ballot initiative to lower general rent prices by 0.00004%. No promises.
Close to the edge of the convention floor, Juan was feeling more depressed and overwhelmed about American politics than ever before. Was there really no American political party fighting to bring meaningful change for people like him?
“Hey there, hermano? You lost?” a voice asked him in Spanish. Juan turned around.
The voice came from a man sitting behind what appeared to be another political booth. Or perhaps a religious one. Only a few people were gathered outside it, but those that were seemed deeply invested.
The man himself looked more like a fitness influencer than some political campaigner like Mustafa. Just the fact he was greeted in Spanish immediately put Juan at ease as he drifted over to the stranger.
”I’m not lost, just taking a walk,” Juan answered. He looked up at the sign.
“Christian Unity Party” the sign read plainly in several languages. The Party’s table was covered in the pamphlets of smiling heterosexual families of multiple races, but always with crosses somewhere on their person.
“Intrested in our reading material?” the volunteer asked with an inquiring grin.
“Nah, I should go. I’m sure my friend is looking for me,” Juan lied, growing uneasy as he stepped away.
“I get it. You’re probably convinced that we’re just another do nothing political party, but we get results. You know the failed Exotic Food Tax?”
“Of course I do. Everybody in Jersey’s heard about it,” Juan remarked, stopping in his tracks. It was a right-wing stipulation that any food product made out of the United States would be taxed 150% on top of the pre-existing tariffs unless their production shifted to the United States. A tax that would have meant death to his family’s struggling Columbianian restaurant.
“Our party was why the bill never made it to law,” the canvasser said, confidently.
“That was you?” Juan asked, impressed.
“Our party was able to defeat the conservatives pushing for the exotic food tax on a technicality.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Unlike a lot of these other political parties, we have the power of the divine on our side,” the man answered with a perfect 3000 terawat smile. The air felt different in this man’s presence. Electrically charged. As if they were in a nuclear power plant, the power of possibility buzzing all around them. It left Juan with the sense that anything could happen, which in comparison to the certainty that things would only get worse, filled him with something akin to hope.
“Is this the kind of political party where I’d have to be part of your church to join? I’m not religious, but my aunties would have a collective heart attack if I left the Catholic Church,” Juan explained, hesitant to ride the wave of excitement just yet.
The canvasser nodded solemnly.
“I understand your caution, my friend. My family feared my joining the Christian Unity Party was my leaving them behind, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Our Party has the strongest policies aimed at protecting immigrant rights, establishing stronger support systems, and drastically reducing the police and military budgets.”
“Really? I would have thought, considering this country’s Conservatives…” Juan trailed off.
“Use Christianity to further their own nationalist ends? Both our Party and the Churches we affiliate with are invested in spreading the word of God to all people. Hard to do so when so many are being terrorized.”
It was strange. Usually when people like Juan’s Baba went on and on about the importance of Christ's teachings, Juan would tune him out. How could a book written two thousand years ago have any importance to him now?
Yet unlike all those other times, this political activist’s words were making a lot of sense. Why shouldn’t Christianity be used as a tool of encouraging compassion and understanding? Juan was pretty sure Jesus talked about “love” all the time in the Bible, so wouldn’t it be nice if that actually meant something to Christian politicians.
“I never thought of it that way,” Juan agreed, tapping his fingers against his legs as they tingled with energy.
As they spoke, the energy spiked upward sending a firm jolt to Juan’s slouched frame. Unconsciously, he adjusted himself so that his shoulders were squared and his spine was a rigid hard angle. This allowed him to look the canvasser directly in the eye like he was a man to be reckoned with instead of a stoner who regularly shrank away under other people’s gaze.
“What else do you have planned for the country?” Juan asked, curiously.
He had the canvassar’s rapt attention as they stared eye to eye, which left Juan feeling both important and insecure as he feared saying something that’d make him sound like an ignorant jackass. Juan shoved his hands inside his sweatpants pockets looking for his vape to calm himself down, only to find nothing but lint and cheeto crumbs.
“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Hidalgo. My name is Diego let me fill you in on our Party’s message,” the canvasser introduced, though without asking him for his name which Juan thought was odd.
As Diego went over concepts like tax incentives and the importance of charitable infrastructure, Juan became surprisingly unbothered by his vape pen’s disappearance. Possessed by the vibrating power that radiated from the Party booth, Juan no longer felt the need to steady his nerves.
The warm fuzzy high from earlier was seeping out of his lungs, breath by breath. It was becoming replaced with a rising sense of clarity and a rapt attention in the Unity Party’s fiscal and social policies. For the more he listened, the more he realized that he already knew. Legal procedures, judicial decisions, and long-term financial planning became second nature to Juan.
“Hmm, I agree that in some cases that private religious institutions may outpace public ones in their ability to reach certain communities,” Juan eventually replied with an erudite nod.
“However, I am cynical about the wearing away of secular institutions with the over-inclusion of the Church. The line between secular and religious law in this country has always been tenuous, but your Party’s policies may push so hard on one end that the line snaps.”
Juan knew when a religious authority gained too much power in a country it would lead to authoritarianism. Even if it promised greater equality and a robust system of welfare.
“I must say, Mr. Hidalgo, I am deeply impressed by your legal and historical knowledge. You must have been practicing law for decades,” Diego flattered, his eyes shining with interest.
“Oh, no. It's more of a hobby of mine. I mean look at me. I’m no lawyer,” Juan tried to sheepishly answer, yet before his eyes his appearance started to change.
Blurring in and out of perceptible reality, his dirty scuffed up sneakers morphed into a pair of tightly-fitting black dress shoes. From there the changes stretched upward like rising floodwater. His sweatpants, normally white and baggy, shifted into a pair of gray slacks that clung to his legs. Underneath his pants, Juan’s loose-fitting boxers turned into a pair of suffocating briefs. This caused Juan to yelp as his genitals, used to relative freedom, became bunched up like a pack of tennis balls shoved inside a solo cup.
A leather belt further constrained Juan at his waist, as a firmly pressed white dress shirt and gray tie replaced his sweatshirt.
His hair, once long and free like a lion’s mane, had been shortened to a flat respectable cut. It wasn’t the only part of his hair significantly shortened either. Juan’s former beard was gone entirely, replaced by a smooth recently shaven chin and a well-manicured mustache.
“I would say you look like a lawyer, Juan,” Diego chided him with a mischievous grin.
“That would be Mr. Hidalgo to you, sir, and I don’t know what foolishness this is, but your magic tricks can’t change the man that I am,” Juan asserted. His voice sounded newly deep and authoritative, making Diego suddenly change his tune.
“Of course not, Mr. Hidalgo. My sincerest apologies. I only assumed as such since you were the one who handed me this business card,” Diego informed him, pulling out a crisp slip of paper.
Taking it, Juan’s eyes widened as printed neatly across the card it read: “Juan Hidalgo. Lead Partner of Hidalgo Law Firm”.
The reveal caused Juan’s memories to rearrange themselves. Rather than being a feckless do-nothing 24 year old stoner he was a lawyer, a good lawyer who started his own law firm at the age of 29. A firm he worked diligently growing and maintaining for the next 12 years of his life. With this his mind never felt clearer, sharp as a tack but compassionate towards the plights of others.
His old stoner habits and waifish personality were nothing but a past embarrassment. A part of his life he had to evolve from if he ever wanted to get anywhere in this life.
“Are you alright, Mr. Hidalgo,” Diego asked, testing him.
“Quite alright. Just focusing,” Juan said more seriously, his once easy-going voice giving way to one of respectability and maturity.
After his head cleared, he couldn’t even remember why he’d felt upset at Diego in the first place. His previously tense shoulders eased in the canvasser's presence. Juan smiled.
This was a conversation between two professionals on an equal playing field. Two men who sought to bring good to their communities, even if Juan was uneasy around the beliefs of Diego’s Party and his church.
“Hmm,” Juan motioned, stroking his new neatly trimmed mustache.
“I respect many of your party’s goals, but its emphasis on ‘family values’ has lost me. It verges on the Puritanical, and nothing good can come from regimenting such strict gender and sexual roles,” Juan argued.
“Have you considered, sir, that such values could be necessary in keeping social cohesion?” Diego inquired.
“Social… cohesion?” Juan asked, feeling deeply unsettled as if the ground disappeared from right under him. Diego grinned.
“You would likely know that yourself. With your rigorous body-building and dominant personality, you know the benefits of adhering to traditional manhood,” he insisted.
Under the Church’s influence, Juan’s body grew and with it the fabric of his new clothes stretched along with him. The veins of his arms and legs thickened to the size of electric wires, pulsating with warm energy as they grew thick and strong. His flabby chest grew upward and outward, forming tight and round pecs that strained against his dress shirt. His neck thickened, his jaw line became sharp as steel, and his whole body throbbed with power and heat.
“I only practice body-building, because it enhances my discipline and patience. Though I agree that it's important for there to be stability in how men and women look and act. Anything else would bring chaos and anarchy,” Juan asserted once the body changes were complete.
Relishing in his enhanced form and new conservative worldview, Juan wondered how he ever could have lived his life as a bottom. As a dominant male, it was his role to be the one who penetrated, not the one who took dicks like a woman. As such, his memories rewrote themselves once more to his being the dominant top in bed. Having smaller and younger men take his thick dick vigorusly up the ass as he fucked them senseless from behind.
Diego silently noticed the glint for power in Juan’s eyes and grinned.
“Mr. Hidalgo, I must say, with your legal expertise not to mention your good looks and charm, you would be a perfect candidate for senate,” Diego introduced, as if it was the most obvious suggestion in the world for him to make.
“Senate? Me? I haven’t even agreed to join your Party and you think I should be a senator for it?” Juan asked, incredulous.
“Didn’t you come here searching to help others? Help your family?” Diego prodded.
“Our Party and our Church can help you, guide you, provide the voter support and financial backing you need to win.”
“I thought you said your Party was made of multiple churches,” Juan interrupted. Diego chuckled.
“Like the other American political parties, there are very few that truly matter. Our Church is one of them,” he explained, casting a condescending glare towards the other booths.
It was the pragmatic choice, Juan knew. The Christian Unity Party would give him the power to improve people’s lives in a way most could only dream. Why would he put his trust in political parties that brought no meaningful change, when he could be a leader in a new party that already had positive results? Still, he hesitated.
“I… I do but there’s limits. I don’t want to give up my own sense of happiness just to fit some warped ideal,” Juan admitted, cracks of his past unsure self pushing forth from his new masculinized shell.
“Who said you had to, Mr. Hidalgo? Lots of powerful men have wives and families, while secretly practicing male on male urges in private. You’d hardly be the only one,” Diego promised.
Juan admitted to himself that the prospect appealed to him in a way. Kept back by his ‘alternative lifestyle’ while working in Law, the presence of a wife and children could advance his career to heights never before seen. Not to mention the good he could do when traditional christians weren’t distracted by his homosexuality.
Juan knew he could put up a winning front to the cameras, positioning himself as a pious and honorable heterosexual Christian man with a loving family. Then in private, he could engage in his secret homosexual desires to his heart’s content. Dating and fucking an array of handsome men eager for a muscular strongman like Juan to dominate them. All while using his newfound money and power to keep their affairs discrete and hidden.
It would mean sacrificing a significant part of himself, Juan knew, but this wasn’t about him. It was about all the people whose lives he could positively change, all the laws he could create and deny. The better world that he knew could exist, if only there was political will behind it. The political will he knew only the Christian Unity Party and the Church could provide.
“What’s your choice, sir?”
There was a moment’s pause. The distant chatter of the convention hall dimmed. It felt as if Juan and Diego were the only two people in the world, as the reality around them became fluid; open to radical change based entirely on Juan’s reply.
“If I can make a difference, a real difference in the world, I’ll be the senator you want me to be,” Juan admitted, holding out his hand to Diego. A sweet victory for God and all humanity confirmed, Diego smiled happily as he took Juan’s hand in his.
From the moment their hands touched, the world disappeared.
When Mr. Hidalgo returned, he was at first blinded by a sharp and burning light as if the very face of God. Blinking away the glare, his eyes soon readjusted. Before him, a large crowd was gathered like glowing fish in a dark sea.
“Go on, Mr. Hidalgo. Your future constituents are waiting,” a voice whispered in his ear. It was no longer Diego, but Pastor Nico who spoke to him.
Juan eased under the man’s quiet but confident tone, respecting the man’s leadership in the church.
With a polite smile newly etched into the corners of Juan’s new handsome visage, he greeted the wave of interested prospective voters. All around him, Juan silently took notice of how his name and face was plastered on the Party’s balloons and banners.
“We believe in you, Juan!”
“Show those Fascists, who’s boss, Mr. Hidalgo!”
“Christ is watching over you, future senator!”
The more people shouted his praise, with a genuine hope for the future, the more Juan easily settled into his new self. Even in the face of several secular journalists looking to knock him down a peg.
“Mr.Hidalgo, what would you say to conservative Christians who feel that a policy of open borders would lead to a crime wave?”
“I’d say to those people that under America’s current immigration policies, Jesus Christ himself would not be able to safely immigrate to America without threat of imprisonment. If that doesn’t say anything about the alleged importance of the Christian faith of American conservatives, I don’t know what does,” Juan said with authority, his conviction firm and bold.
“Mr. Hidalgo, progressives love your stance on immigration and lowering the military budget but are concerned about your Church’s eroding influence on the secularity of public institutions. Is there anything you have to say to those who feel that your faith is influencing too much public policy?”
Another bright flash of a video camera went off directly in his face.
“I’d say that it is my Church’s efforts to welcome its arms to the needy, that has led me to my current politics as well as many in my party. If the Church happens to gain more influence in the American public's lives, then it's clear this country is heading on the right path,” Juan parroted, now wholly believing in the Church’s absolute authority and perfection.
“Sir, how do you feel about homosexuality?”
Juan paused, his face twitching with discomfort. It passed as soon as it came.
“Its a disgusting habit, but one I believe can be broken through fasting and prayer,” Juan answered rigidly.
“Then hopefully with the aid of the Lord, they too can find the righteous path of rightful marriage and family as He intended.”
Inwardly, Juan knew he was offering a comforting lie. Despite the wedding ring newly appeared on his finger, and the wife and children he had memories of at home, there was nothing he loved more than fucking men. Only he, unlike the more flamboyant homosexuals he railed against, was smart enough to hide it. It was a lie that allowed his constituents to sleep at night that protected him from too much scrutiny.
When the canvassing came to an end some hours later, Juan was inundated with information and dates by his political team. They swarmed around him, long after many of the prospective voters had left, eager to give their ideas of winning strategies.
Yet as Juan strode toward his car with his team on his heels he spotted a man from some distance away. The man was tall and lanky,
his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, as he stared down at the ground ahead of him, seemingly dejected. For a moment, he looked up and their eyes met, a brief flicker of recognition passing through them, until the stranger looked away. His plump bottom lip curled in disgust.
Juan vaguely remembered what it was like to be that man. Lost, angry, feeling helpless in an out of control world. Maybe he could help this stranger in the same way the Church helped him, bringing him into the light of God so he too could find purpose. And if he was lucky, a place by his side and just underneath it.
