Disclaimer: Jim Banks is a real Republican politician who is a ginormous 'phobic bag of Yersinia pestis-infested rat turd but this story is a work of fiction and no violence or other harm is intended or implied by this fictional work, in case "cats putting a magic curse on a politician" didn't make this obvious already.
Summer 2023
"Uncle Sören, what's trans?" Edmée asked, swishing her tail in curiosity.
Sören stroked his beard, trying to figure out how to explain to the little tortie cat in a way she could understand. While it was wonderful to live with a clowder of magical cats, it was sometimes painful to know they were observing things going on in the world that frightened them - like the recent anti-trans legislation in Indiana.
"Trans is when what's in here -" Sören tapped his temple, then his heart. "Doesn't line up with what's, ah." He gestured to his own genitalia. "So if people said you were a boy when you were born but you feel like a girl, or if they said you were a girl but you feel like a boy, or if you feel like something that isn't either of those things."
"Why is Indiana not letting trans people go to the bathroom?" Ramen asked, cocking his head to one side. "I don't even remember having balls and I can pee in any cat box!"
"And sometimes on the floor or in the laundry basket, when we don't like something," Samiilo added, coming over to Sören because he was paying too much attention to other cats.
Sören chuckled, then gave Samiilo a stern look before skritching the grey tabby, who responded by turning around, backing his asshole right up into Sören's face, then climbing on his shoulders, kneading and purring hard. "Mine," Samiilo chuffed. "Mine, mine, mine..."
"As you know, I have an enormous butthole," Edmée said, making Nicholas glance up from his book and narrow his eyes that the tortie had adopted his "as you know" verbal tic. She was two and still hadn't grown into the quarter-sized hole, and probably wouldn't. "I hope I won't go to cat jail for using the litterbox -"
"No, no, this is just for people. Er, human people," Sören quickly corrected, not wanting to offend the cats. "And it's bad. The humans who made this law are bad. Trans people deserve human rights, not being made second-class citizens." Then he realized the cats probably didn't understand what "second-class citizens" meant.
"They deserve cat rights too," Mibal said.
"Everyone should be allowed to pee!" Ramen yelled. "I like pee! It smells interesting, especially when the humans are doing it!" Ramen frequently followed Sören into the bathroom and tried to sniff him when he was finished doing his business.
"Hard food pee," Noodles said softly, looking concerned.
Later that night, after the humans went to bed, the cats held a meeting in the living room.
"Are there pee runes?" Edmée asked. "Like the fart runes?"
"I don't know," Mibal said. "But maybe we could make some."
"If we make an awfrin to the Alfar, they might help," Ramen added.
Edmée used the Force to knock the kitchen garbage over, and pieces of trash - like empty wrappers of cheese, empty snack bags, spent tubes of creamy cat treats - floated to the front door. The cats gathered in a circle around the garbage deposited at the door and Samiilo carried one of Sören's black socks in his mouth, his sister Myroslava carrying a long blue string of cloth, the two cats howling in unison with the toys in their mouths, as if they were trying to galdr the runes. "Owo? Hewwo. Aflac! Ow. Ow. Owo..."
"Alfar, punish the bads who worked on making this rule to hurt trans people!" Eugène invoked.
"Trans rights!" Mibal yowled.
"Hard food trans rights," Noodles said solemnly.
Samiilo and Myroslava dropped the sock and the blue string on top of the scattered garbage in the crude shape of runes, and Samiilo yelled at the top of his lungs: "OWO? HEWWO! HEWWO? OWO! AFLAC! FRRF! OWO! AFLAC? BROWR? OW WOW WOW! OWO!"
Suddenly a tiny dot of red light appeared on the door like a laser pointer, and just as Ramen leapt to try to catch it, the light vanished. With it, one of Sören's socks also vanished, as if it had been sucked through a magic portal.
The next day...
"Man, I gotta go winky-tink."
Congressman Jim Banks, who had helped push anti-trans legislation in the state of Indiana, tried to eschew such vulgarities as "piss" and "pee", being the fine upstanding Hoosier Christian he was. He chortled on his way to the men's room at the restaurant, gleeful that there would be no trans men sullying his good Christian eyes, or making his penis respond in most unChristian ways.
When he hit the facilities, his bowels also decided they needed to be evacuated. He did his business, and said a prayer. Dear Lord Jesus Christ, I thank You that I am not like those transgender freaks. Amen.
Once he put his own good Christian penis back in his good Christian pants - without wiping, because touching his own penis and ass was gay and he tried to commit that sin as little as possible - he walked out of the bathroom. He didn't stop to wash his hands because that was like taking the vaccine - bodies needed to be natural the way the good Lord intended. He sat back down with his family, and picked up his All-American burger and resumed eating it.
And then he started peeing. Again.
He paid for the meal and exited the restaurant as quickly as possible. And on the way home, in the car, he kept peeing. Once he relieved his bladder in the toilet and went to bed, hiding from the humiliation of pissing himself in public - huddled under a pile of blankets in the summer heat - he started pissing himself again.
Dear Lord Jesus Christ, Your good and faithful servant humbly beseeches Y'all, please. Please. I need to stop going winky-tink. My wife can't be in a winky-tink-soaked bed, fulfilling marital congress, like this. Jim Banks's penis throbbed in his pajama bottoms. Well, maybe she can. But I can't be winky-tinking in public. Especially not at my job. I have trans people's lives to ruin!
For a brief, blissful moment, the piss stopped. And then there was an explosion of piss, a stream of it flowing onto the floor and out the bedroom door into the hallway.
If this kept up, he would need to build an ark, just like Noah. Biblical living at its finest.