Nancy Mace proudly strode into the Capitol building as cameras captured her arrival for today's session. Each photo validated the new direction of her Speakership campaign, a fact that widened her smile the more she thought on it. Finally, one of her stunts paid off.
It was only two days ago that arrived in these halls with her black business ensemble, her blazer left wide open to show her white shirt with the red letter A on it. She expected the press to praise her on comparing the stigma of her vote to oust McCarthy with the infamous scarlet letter, but then she read their reports and seethed. Stupid? Braindead? Crass? So what if she didn't know one thing about the book, nobody read anymore! And sure, if she had taken the time to check on it, she might have gasped and backed away from her bold idea before aligning herself with adultery. But as she simmered over jokes and memes at her expense, she glanced out her office at the true dumbasses in her party like Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene and came to a brilliant conclusion - she could own it! Her House colleagues always turned their sluttery and idiocy into clicks, whether Boebert giving a handy in a theater or Greene groping the crotch of a Trump cardboard likeness. Compared to them, suggesting she cheated on her husbands was small stuff.
That's when she realized she needed something bolder and more scandalous to last more than one news cycle. She needed something everyone would remember her by, something that blew the likes of Boebert and Greene out of the water. It took fully embracing what that letter meant to reach it, but when her arrival met with leering eyes and bright flashes, she knew she had a winning scheme.
This time, she wore nothing BUT that scarlet letter. Slaps of paint had formed the A broadly from her neck to her hips, the sides on her tits interrupted only by congressional lapel pins pierced into her nipples. Its top point stopped before a full pearl necklace. Below, her unshaved pubes snuck out the sides of her red thong with a congressional seal on the front. As she walked, her heels announcing her passing on the tile, she revealed her long red nails as she waved to her audience.
"Get a good look, everyone! This is what you'll let other men have if you marry me."
Any shame she felt at this stunt disappeared when she saw the row of microphones awaiting her before House doors. Striding up like a model on the runway, she paused at them and tossed her long brown hair as they asked their questions.
"Miss Mace!" One began. "Is this really the message you want to send young girls, not to mention your constituents?"
She laughed. Oh how naive they were, thinking any Republican cared about what their actions said to others in the age of Trump. "Are you serious? Women live to serve, and this time it means serving up my ass. Besides, I can't think of a better way to show I care about my constituents than telling them I care so much about their husbands' dicks that I'll cheat on my husbands to get at them."
"Mace! Representative Mace!" Another shouted. "How many men would you say you slept with, if you had to guess?"
"I'll make it easy for you, it's one for every state. And as you know, that does NOT include D.C. thanks to me."
"So that would be..."
"Yep, you guessed it, 48!"
Their feverish writing at that one had to be a good sign. She may have chosen to dress down on this occasion, but people who read their articles to see her body would follow that hook to a kernel of knowledge that this representative had more brains than other women that had come to represent her party. She doubted Boobert could count even a fraction of the 48 states on her fingers, compared to her genius that would come through soon.
"The Senate recently had its dress code changed. Is what you're, uh, wearing, a comment on expectations of women in formal settings and how dress codes are often more restrictive on them than for men?"
"Hmm..." Nancy had to think on that one. It was a brilliant idea, one she wished she came up with, but that didn't mean she couldn't steal it. "Yeeeees. I would say it is. We can't let Democrats tell us what we can and can't wear."
"But doesn't that mean you're siding WITH Democrats like Ilhan Omar? Dems are the ones with a history of pushing back against dress codes."
A nervous sweat started to overtake her. Under the right light, these cameras would expose her through that sweat as a performative shill. She couldn't have that. She started with a nervous chuckle, brain scrambling for an answer. "Did I say that? Ha, no, no way. What I really meant is... uhh... we need MORE restrictions! We need to respect tradition. Without that, anyone can wear anything. I could walk in NAKED tomorrow if I'm not censured by my colleagues!
Finally, at one last question before the House session, Nancy hoped to carry off this Q&A on a higher note.
"Some people are saying online right now that this is just a desperate stunt to get attention. A post going viral over your appearance right now even says the A you painted on today looks an awful lot like the A done by the people who vandalized your house. They've even drawn a couple memes of vandals spray painting it on you. What do you have to say?"
She chuckled deeply. "Oh please. Like I would let Antifa do that to me. I'm sure I could win their votes if I cheated on my husbands with them back when I was married, but I wouldn't stoop to that."
"No Miss Mace, they're saying you faked the vandalism and that the A on your chest is proof of it."
"Oh, uhh... umm... I think it's selfie time!"
Raising her phone high, she angled it to give a great view of her big tits - a growing necessity of her public image over the past year - and took several candid shots for her official instagram account. With a huge crowd at her back, it was inevitable that some would reach out and get grabby by squeezing her boobs and groping her crotch. She made sure to get their wandering hands in the picture. What better way to show her accessibility and commitment to the stunt? Her social media person would find the right words to fire it off for views and headlines.
Taking her leave, she headed into the chamber with a clear view of her ass, merrily ignorant of the new nickname she earned in this next round of the news cycle.
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Nancy Mace, Attention Whore
"That's right, I fucked other men while married."
Nancy Mace proudly strode into the Capitol building as cameras captured her arrival for today's session. Each photo validated the new direction of her Speakership campaign, a fact that widened her smile the more she thought on it. Finally, one of her stunts paid off.
It was only two days ago that arrived in these halls with her black business ensemble, her blazer left wide open to show her white shirt with the red letter A on it. She expected the press to praise her on comparing the stigma of her vote to oust McCarthy with the infamous scarlet letter, but then she read their reports and seethed. Stupid? Braindead? Crass? So what if she didn't know one thing about the book, nobody read anymore! And sure, if she had taken the time to check on it, she might have gasped and backed away from her bold idea before aligning herself with adultery. But as she simmered over jokes and memes at her expense, she glanced out her office at the true dumbasses in her party like Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene and came to a brilliant conclusion - she could own it! Her House colleagues always turned their sluttery and idiocy into clicks, whether Boebert giving a handy in a theater or Greene groping the crotch of a Trump cardboard likeness. Compared to them, suggesting she cheated on her husbands was small stuff.
That's when she realized she needed something bolder and more scandalous to last more than one news cycle. She needed something everyone would remember her by, something that blew the likes of Boebert and Greene out of the water. It took fully embracing what that letter meant to reach it, but when her arrival met with leering eyes and bright flashes, she knew she had a winning scheme.
This time, she wore nothing BUT that scarlet letter. Slaps of paint had formed the A broadly from her neck to her hips, the sides on her tits interrupted only by congressional lapel pins pierced into her nipples. Its top point stopped before a full pearl necklace. Below, her unshaved pubes snuck out the sides of her red thong with a congressional seal on the front. As she walked, her heels announcing her passing on the tile, she revealed her long red nails as she waved to her audience.
"Get a good look, everyone! This is what you'll let other men have if you marry me."
Any shame she felt at this stunt disappeared when she saw the row of microphones awaiting her before House doors. Striding up like a model on the runway, she paused at them and tossed her long brown hair as they asked their questions.
"Miss Mace!" One began. "Is this really the message you want to send young girls, not to mention your constituents?"
She laughed. Oh how naive they were, thinking any Republican cared about what their actions said to others in the age of Trump. "Are you serious? Women live to serve, and this time it means serving up my ass. Besides, I can't think of a better way to show I care about my constituents than telling them I care so much about their husbands' dicks that I'll cheat on my husbands to get at them."
"Mace! Representative Mace!" Another shouted. "How many men would you say you slept with, if you had to guess?"
"I'll make it easy for you, it's one for every state. And as you know, that does NOT include D.C. thanks to me."
"So that would be..."
"Yep, you guessed it, 48!"
Their feverish writing at that one had to be a good sign. She may have chosen to dress down on this occasion, but people who read their articles to see her body would follow that hook to a kernel of knowledge that this representative had more brains than other women that had come to represent her party. She doubted Boobert could count even a fraction of the 48 states on her fingers, compared to her genius that would come through soon.
"The Senate recently had its dress code changed. Is what you're, uh, wearing, a comment on expectations of women in formal settings and how dress codes are often more restrictive on them than for men?"
"Hmm..." Nancy had to think on that one. It was a brilliant idea, one she wished she came up with, but that didn't mean she couldn't steal it. "Yeeeees. I would say it is. We can't let Democrats tell us what we can and can't wear."
"But doesn't that mean you're siding WITH Democrats like Ilhan Omar? Dems are the ones with a history of pushing back against dress codes."
A nervous sweat started to overtake her. Under the right light, these cameras would expose her through that sweat as a performative shill. She couldn't have that. She started with a nervous chuckle, brain scrambling for an answer. "Did I say that? Ha, no, no way. What I really meant is... uhh... we need MORE restrictions! We need to respect tradition. Without that, anyone can wear anything. I could walk in NAKED tomorrow if I'm not censured by my colleagues!
Finally, at one last question before the House session, Nancy hoped to carry off this Q&A on a higher note.
"Some people are saying online right now that this is just a desperate stunt to get attention. A post going viral over your appearance right now even says the A you painted on today looks an awful lot like the A done by the people who vandalized your house. They've even drawn a couple memes of vandals spray painting it on you. What do you have to say?"
She chuckled deeply. "Oh please. Like I would let Antifa do that to me. I'm sure I could win their votes if I cheated on my husbands with them back when I was married, but I wouldn't stoop to that."
"No Miss Mace, they're saying you faked the vandalism and that the A on your chest is proof of it."
"Oh, uhh... umm... I think it's selfie time!"
Raising her phone high, she angled it to give a great view of her big tits - a growing necessity of her public image over the past year - and took several candid shots for her official instagram account. With a huge crowd at her back, it was inevitable that some would reach out and get grabby by squeezing her boobs and groping her crotch. She made sure to get their wandering hands in the picture. What better way to show her accessibility and commitment to the stunt? Her social media person would find the right words to fire it off for views and headlines.
Taking her leave, she headed into the chamber with a clear view of her ass, merrily ignorant of the new nickname she earned in this next round of the news cycle.