Cheetos for the Cheeto Special Edition (aka Fuck You Tumblr)
Guys, this might be the worst thing I have written, I did a lot of it while half asleep, but the worst part is that I may actually have achieved sounding like Trump. Iâm going to go to bed and hope I repress this memory.Â
Not putting this under a read-more just in case, idk what tumblr plans to do so just scroll if you want to pass this up, sorry :(
@staff this is what you have wrought
TW: Trump, probably a lot of stuff you donât want to read, idk read at your own risk
Trump cackled in delight as he scrolled through his Tumblr, fingers frantically fiddling with his dick. Finally, the eve of when he would get rid of all those damn nsfw liberal jackwads who had kept clogging up his Tumblr with things like âacceptanceâ and âfurries.â Not that he had minded seeing the furry porn, but one of the prime ministers of some dumb country had caught him staring at it, and he had to make up an excuse of why it was on his dashboard. He had almost fumbled but someone as great as him was excellent at telling people what they want to hear. He of course had dismissed the manâs concerns, reinforced that he, the President of the Greatest County in the World (soon to be TM), would never look at such odd pornography, and stated that something had to be done about it.
In fact, he had called up the CEO of Yahoo and let him know what would happen if he didnât clean up Tumblr right in front of that person, just to show his power. He wished he could remember which one it was, so he could rub it in their face tomorrow when the ban was officially enacted. He would miss seeing all the porn on his dash, but he had already downloaded all of his favorite pictures and stories off of the site. It took his IT person over a week to get all of the stuff he wanted and it had filled up several external hard drives, but he had enough to last him for at least a year.
For now, however, he was going to enjoy one last day of looking at the all the depravity the internet had to offer and hope that it would be enough to get off. His dick had been erect from the sheer hate of this change and it was almost enough, but he needed something to push him over the edge. Scrolling further, he saw someone post about having one last âfingers in his assâ Sunday. He scowled and looked at the tags, hoping that they would clarify whatever this person meant, when his expression brightened. Kanye West liked fingers in his ass? Well, he, Donald Trump, was such good friends with Kanye that he should definitely support Kanyeâs dream to have an entire day of the week devoted to having fingers in his ass. This was not at all about Trump needing to release his huge load; no, he would be the best friend in the universe and help his friend, Kanye West, achieve his goal. Because this is what friends do, right? Right!
He nodded to himself and closed his tab, thinking intently. His wife never wanted to stick fingers in his ass, and even though the dryness of his hand reminded him of how nice it felt fucking her, he knew that it wouldnât be worth the aggravation he would have to deal with later. It was too late to hire some woman to come up and do it, it had to be done TODAY. And while that one woman, Tomi Lahren, would probably even stick her tongue up his ass if he asked, it would mean having to buy one of her damned calendars. He didnât even mind the calendar, except that he definitely wasnât getting any money from it. Making a mental note to either sue or extort something from her later, Trump got up and started walking towards his bedroom. No, the best candidate to do this was probably still lying in bed, eating more Cheetos. Jerryâs fingers felt the best anyways, covered in orange dust and squelching with every movement. Trump wasnât sure how he did it, but Jerryâs hands were always just a little moist, making it even easier to get them inside his voluptuous bottom.
Trump barged into his suite and over to the monster who was scrolling through his tablet. âOh, hey.â Jerry didnât even bother to look up, immersed in whatever unimportant thing he was engaged in.
âJerry, I need you to stick your fingers in my ass. It is very important that we do this today, so I can support my friend. Once I tell Kanye how I did fingers in his ass Sunday, heâll have to come to my birthday party!â
Trump looked down at Jerry again. The monster still hadnât moved and he wasnât entirely sure that Jerry had heard a word he had said. âJerry, I order you to stick your fingers in my ass! It could be a matter of national security.â Well, one day it could be if Iâm not re-elected because Kanye doesnât think Iâm a good enough friend.
Jerry huffed and finally glanced up at him. âCan we have wings for dinner then? The food around here sucks.â
Trump could have clapped his hands with delight. Now not only would he get fingers in his ass, but he would have wings for dinner and could use Jerry as an excuse to do so! No one could argue that he should be eating better when it was for important human-monster relations!
âSure, whatever you want. Iâll even get you some ribs. But first, finger me.â He was already pulling his very expensive sweatpants down, leaving them in a ball on the floor. His shirt followed soon after, and within a minute he was completely naked and climbing onto the bed with Jerry. Someone would deal with the mess on the floor later, probably when they delivered the food to him. He got on hands and knees, his, err, sturdy stomach sweeping against the bed as he moved into position, his puckering asshole right next to Jerry. He didnât have to wait long before one digit was pushed in, the breach causing a slight burn that felt oh so good. Trump liked it mostly dry, just like sex with every single woman he had tried it with.
Once Jerryâs finger was in place, Trump began rocking himself back and forth on it, his saggy rolls of fat (it showed how wealthy he was, obviously) jiggling and bouncing with every push. Soon the entire bed was rocking as he moaned, and Trump was sure they could hear it in the hallway, giving him a brilliant idea. He turned his head to face the monster, who had already gone back to staring at his tablet while Trump used his finger. âJerry, I need more fingers in my ass! If I have witnesses to prove that I was enjoying fingers in his ass Sunday, then Kanye will have to believe I did it and will see how great a friend I am!â
Jerry shrugged and stuck his other fingers out, giving Trump a total of 4 fingers to work with. If he managed it, this would be the most fingers he would have ever had in his ass at once. Maybe he would even take a picture, just to show Kanye on the side. He scratched that idea almost immediately; he didnât know how to use the camera on his new phone and he was too impatient to wait for the white house photographer to come record this historic moment. He would just have to settle for shaking the bed so hard that everyone heard it while he made the sexiest noises.
Bracing himself, Trump pressed his chest and stomach against the bed so he could use his hands to spread himself wide, making it easier for all of the fingers to fit in at once. Luckily, all the anal training he had been doing paid off, and pretty soon he had all 4 of Jerryâs fingers inside of his ass. He made sure to let out an extra loud groan as he did so, adding extra sexiness to it so everyone could definitely tell exactly what he was doing. Once he was sure that he had them all in, he let go of his butt cheeks to feel this ass tighten even further around the moist fingers that sat so stiffly inside of him, bringing his hands back around to brace himself on the bed.
He quickly resumed his rocking, being careful not to rock so far that Jerryâs fingers slipped out of him but pushing hard enough that surely everyone could hear it. âMmmm yes Jerry, yes Kanye, just like that! Kanye you are so smart, this was such a good idea!â He could feel his stiffening dick tapping gently against his stomach, his ball sack providing a much more satisfying percussive accompaniment. Moments later he was squirting his load onto the blankets, causing him to add extra moans for emphasis. Exhausted, he fell forward onto the bed, Jerryâs fingers slipping out of him easily. He had forgotten the other benefit of this; he had gotten his weekly workout in as well, something like this easily burned over a thousand calories. Picking up his phone, Trump phoned down to the kitchen to bring up 2 full racks of ribs as well as 5 lbs of wings. He needed to get his energy back, after all. He had a lot of phone calls to make tomorrow.
