It was a busy day in Washington. Though really it was always a busy day for a sitting president. There had been a public rally she’d had to attend naturally and she and her entourage of staffers and secret service agents were on their way back to her presidential limo. Dianne was dressed immaculately and sharply as always, her black dress suit both tasteful and managing to display her womanly form. Heels clacked loudly on the sidewalk, adding further height to her already impressive stature.

There was a ruckus up ahead, a few of her agents trying to clear something out of the way. Protests were nothing new with her administration. Before she had even taken office there had been mass protests all over the country. Once she had actually taken office and instituted sexist policy after sexist policy the protests had increased by a wide margin. Seemed like a day couldn’t go by without the media reporting on a protest of some sort.

This particular protest however certainly took the cake for oddity. Over a hundred three inch tall men crowded the sidewalk, holding signs in their hands and shouting in their squeaky little voices at the service agents trying to get them to clear the way. The signs had such inspired words on them as:

“All humans have rights!”

“Men’s Rights Matter!”

“Lyin’ Trent”

Three Strikes UNCONSTITUTIONAL!”

Dianne lifted a brow and walked up to the picket, her bodyguards- naturally all women by this point- gave her apologetic looks. “Sorry, Ma’am. If you could move to the other side of the street…” One suggested. After all the picket was just blocking the one sidewalk.

The president waved the apologies away and stood right up to the picket line past her bodyguards. The towering blonde was a true giant to the three inch tall protesters. Third Strikers all of them it looked like. She set her hand on her hip and looked down at them, frowning prominently as they waved their little signs at her and yelled at her. Some people. She tapped her heel clad foot before the crowd, creating little tremors. Her red painted nails caught the sunlight occasionally, immaculate as she accepted only the best.

“You know, if you all are looking to make people sympathetic to your cause, blocking sidewalks doesn’t garner much of that. People got busy days, would rather not have to worry about stepping on small men with attitude.” Dianne remarked.

“You monster, you’re the one that made us small!”

“Yeah, you tyrant!”

“Sexist bitch!”

“Give us back our size!”

Dianne rolled her eyes and crouched down, looming over the crowd. She pushed some of her blonde hair behind her ear. The sudden motion had the men in the front rows back up a few steps, the colossal woman’s shadow firmly over them. A few nervously glanced at her feet, being Third Strikers tended to make one paranoid about getting caught under foot. The rumors of unsavory things that happened to them held some degree of truth after all. Technically still protected by the law, but no one raised much fuss about them. They were three inches tall after all. Barely people anymore.

“Nah uh, you made you small. You get three strikes, three mistakes. Thats pretty generous. I mean, people tell me all the time. ‘Should make it one or two strikes’. But you know what I tell ‘em no. I’ve got faith in you people. Obviously good, smart people. Well not you guys, but men in general. I mean if you got three strikes you clearly aren’t good people, just saying.” Dianne shrugged.

“What a load of bullshit!”

“I never did anything wrong in my life!”

“The system’s corrupt!”

“Liar!”

That last one made the lady President’s brow twitch. “That’s rich coming from someone three inches tall! Looks like another victim of media brainwashing. Shouldn’t believe in all that fake news. Statistics show, the Three Strikes rule keeps violent crime down.” Where she was getting her statistics was anyones guess. Usually internet news outlets.

Dianne stood at her full height once more, tapping her foot impatiently at the crowd of nervous looking men. “Now are you all going to get out of the way? This is obstruction of public domain ya know. Not proving anything other than being bad people. I don’t run on Four Strikes.”

The men looked up at her towering form and started to waver it looked like. Say what one wanted about the Madame President, she cut a very imposing figure. Especially when one was actually action figure sized. They held strong however, the gathering of a hundred tiny men holding their ground heroically on the sidewalk and shouting their grievances up at President Trent, waving their little signs around. Then one made the mistake of throwing one of their signs at her smallest toe. It didn’t actually hurt mind you but it annoyed Dianne enough to force her hand, or rather foot.

“They just assaulted the President! I want them arrested.” She pointed to the crowd.

“Yes Ma’am!”

What followed was utter chaos. Female service agents walked forward, their eyes obscured by sunglasses and started grabbing men from the crowd. They walked into the crowd, forcing it to disperse unless people wanted to get crushed. And a few people certainly did. There were a few wet crunches as they stepped in, or when they grabbed some people too forcefully. The crowd immediately dispersed in every direction they could, dropping signs and running for their lives. Some had the poor idea of running out into the busy street, now roadkill under the tires of busy commuters.

Dianne huffed and started continuing on her walk. One unfortunate man got caught in her path and fell onto hit back as the shadow of her black heel looming over him. He screamed, his vision taken up by the underside of her shoe for a moment before there was a sickening wet crunch like she had just stepped in a cockroach. The blonde crinkled her nose at that. These were expensive shoes. Worth far more than these lot. Now she’d have to get someone to wash and clean the gore off of the sole.

The president scraped her shoe on the pavement as she walked, getting the worst of it off and leaving red streaks on the sidewalk. The service agents had started to stuff men into black bags, as many as they could grab, while some men slipped away. By the time all was said and done the sidewalk had a number of red stains by the time it was open for people to walk through. By the time normal people were able to walk in the place there were more than a few women cursing getting blood on their shoes as well, callously crushing the signs of those that had tried to stand up to President Trent.

Naturally, when the media picked that story up, they’d had a field day. Headlines like ‘President Bloodbath’, ‘President Steps on Freedom’, and ‘Blood on the Sidewalk’ were all running through the next few days. There were lawsuits made against the administration by the families of the protesters and the opposition was calling for President Trent’s resignation. Did the President respond to this in a calm, diplomatic and delicate manner? Anyone who knew anything about the President would have laughed at that idea.

“We are dealing with a corrupt, and lying Media here folks. That’s all there is too it. They can’t wait to run fake news. They don’t care if the story is wrong or not. Those people weren’t peaceful protesters. They assaulted me so my Secret Service, great people, just the best women out there, stepped in and did their jobs. Look, I’ve even got the proof here. See? Look at that!”

The madame President took her foot out of her heel and displayed the toe the sign had hit. She’d put a little bandaid on it and everything. “I mean can you believe it? This is what I’m talking about. This is what I’ve always been talking about. Violent crime, 99.99% of violent crimes are perpetrated by men. 99.99%! Can you believe it people? You’ve got the proof right here. Media won’t cover that though, because they don’t care about that, they just want to mislead you. Not me though, I tell it like it is. It hurt so bad I couldn’t walk after it, ask my agents, they had to carry me to the limo! But I came out here today because I had to speak to you all. Because I love my country.” She slipped her ‘injured’ foot back into her heel and walked back to the podium with a limp she hadn’t had getting on the stage.

“I can see I’ve been way too lenient with criminals AND with our media. It’s time to crack down people before we’re swimming in murders and rapes, which the fake news won’t report on. They like the status quo and they don’t like us to be winning.”

It wasn’t long after this interview that the next set of laws in the country were proposed and shoved through congress, the opposition and even dissidents within Dianne’s own party being powerless to stop them without a majority. They did manage to delay them for about a month but a month wasn’t enough as they landed on President Trent’s desk and were signed into law not even halfway through her first year in office.

One law restricted the media from spreading ‘Fake News’ about the president. Which boiled down to saying anything bad about the president counting as slander and libel which the organizations could be sued for by the administration. The next one was the “Prevention of Criminal Offenses Act.” It was perhaps the hardest piece of legislation pushed through congress yet.

It restricted second strike offenders from going anywhere without a legal female guardian to escort them. It also prevented men from owning or operating businesses, they also could only gather in crowds no more than ten people in size in one place. The Act also included a system by which women were required to report all offenses or suspected offenses to the newly created Criminal Detection Bureau. CDB officials had the job of collecting third strike offenders and removing such dangerous elements from society along with being a catchall agency that most intelligent men recognized as a sexist gestapo. They had access to copies of all ID’s of men, so even having one’s ID was no longer security from a strike. There was a clear shift now, the joke of a president had become very, very serious.