Second Chance
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Chapter 14
DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 14 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.
Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Consensual Science Fiction DoOver Incest Mother Son First Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Petting
Several Eastern Bloc countries, fearing Russian retaliation, refused to sign off and join NATO. Truman walked away from the table when he could see that he wasn’t coming home with everything he went to pick up. The Secretary of State talked Truman off the ledge, got everyone back to the table, and strengthened the mutual defense part of the pact. Once every Eastern Bloc leader was back at the table, he had to strong arm Truman to sign the final agreement. His perfect handling of the most delicate part of the agreement got him fired as soon as they returned to Washington.
The United States Military assumed responsibility for protecting the entire Eastern Bloc in exchange for them turning their backs on Russia. Nikita Khrushchev was further humiliated when those same nations closed the Russian Embassies and deported the entire Russian delegation. Fifty percent of the Russian ‘diplomats’ were spies and provocateurs, who assaulted and murdered any citizens of those countries that they thought might not be politically pure. Thirty-four Russian diplomats were stripped of diplomatic immunity and jailed for their crimes. Twenty-three were eventually executed and eleven were jailed for life. Truman rode the wave of jubilation that came with news of Russia’s rejection and went into campaign mode set up for an easy win over Alfred Smith of New York.
Alben Barkley began his campaign for Vice President from the sideline. The party made it clear to Truman that they wanted me to remain where I was. I made it plain to the President that I took the job as a placeholder and intended to fulfill my obligation to serve only until the new Vice President took the oath of office. Truman made it plain that he had no intention of upsetting the polls by changing horses just as the campaign got underway and risking being painted as weak and uncertain by Smith. Barkley made it clear that he intended to be the next Vice President no matter what Truman thought about it.
And I was caught in the middle.
Barkley knew for an absolute fact that I was not an impediment between him and the job. When two attempts were made on my life in a little over six weeks, the Secret Service began to tighten up on how Truman and I were protected.
The first attempt came out of nowhere. Jenny and I visited a new children’s hospital built by a church group to cut their ribbon and give a short speech. Shortly after I took the podium a gunshot sounded somewhere out in the crowd and two Secret Service Agents took down a lone gunman.
He was identified as an anarchist and admitted during interrogation that he was paid five hundred dollars and provided with the handgun to kill me. The conspiracy fell apart for investigators because the man fingered as the bagman was found with his throat cut in a cheap hotel in Arlington, Virginia. The shooter was sentenced to life at hard labor without parole and forgotten.
The second attempt nearly succeeded.
My car and escorts were ambushed as we headed out of Washington toward home one night. My car was hit from both sides by delivery trucks stolen for the task. Even before the car completely stopped doors flew open and several gunmen stormed our damaged vehicle. If not for the quick action of our follow and chase cars they would have killed me and my detail.
Once the shooting stopped four gunmen were dead, three were in custody and two of my entourage lay dead on the ground beside my car. The chase car got off a radio call and law enforcement as well as military closed in on us from all directions. When we were safe, my driver discovered a bullet had gone all the way through my coat, missing me by less than an inch, and embedded itself in the seat. I never left my home unarmed again.
Jenny worried incessantly about our safety, and to help calm her fears, I stopped taking her with me to any public events. Her run in with Felecia deeply scared her, and she clung to me for support. The follow up from Felecia’s interrogation had resulted in scores of arrests and the discovery of several dead spies. It seemed that Russia wanted no live agents to tell tales on their operations.
Truman lost his legendary temper when he heard about the attack. Sometime later that night he personally went to Intelligence and demanded to see the attackers. When they were brought to him in leg irons and chains, he looked them over, and said to the jailer, “Why do they look so good? Have they confessed and given up the ones who sent them, yet?” When he was informed that they hadn’t spoken one word since they were captured, he turned to his detail leader, and supposedly said, “Send for the Vice President. He will know how to make them sing like canaries.” It worked. When I introduced the gentlemen to carbonated beverage applied through the nasal passages they broke down and gave our investigators all sorts of interesting information. The next morning a judge designated all three of them as prisoners of war and transferred them to Defense where my guys knew exactly how to interrogate them.
I understand the strongest one lasted two days. Nobody asked about their trials, either.
Alben Barkley masterfully guided legislation through the Senate that made Truman look good. He killed bills that would poll either neutral or negative. Several Senators and the occasional newspaper pointed out Barkley’s shenanigans, but nothing came of it. The Senate played by their rules. The rest of the world didn’t.
It was my proudest achievement in politics to spend the entire campaign carefully not campaigning. The press caught on and began to treat me like I was invisible since the Lame Duck label stuck so perfectly to me, and I LOVED it. Jenny and I took in the Opera, Broadway, and several movie premiers without causing a stir, because the press had determined that I wasn’t news. Killing me was apparently out of style as no new attempts were made. Truman’s inner circle began to put pressure on me to take an active role in his reelection campaign, but I managed to dodge and weave enough to stay on the sideline.
The pressure let up when I reminded the political hacks that I was useless because I was a lame duck, and Truman wouldn’t want his name associated with me because Dewey would use it to claim that Truman was weak and uncertain. Barkley showed up to thank me for putting them straight, and Truman stopped speaking to me completely.
It was all going swimmingly if you ask me.
In June I met with Eisenhower and Wilson to talk about our arms dealings and they raved about the damage that was being done to Russia’s world domination agenda. “Phil, you hit the nail right on the head. Nikita can barely keep his head above water, and everywhere their military puts its beak, they get a bloody nose.” We talked about ways to increase our leverage and drain Russia’s ability to build an empire.
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