B*den's POV

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I sit at my office, in my home. The thought that I am even able to call this place my home disgusts me - I took it from the man who resided here before me. Yes, I was voted by the majority of the Un*ted States of Amer*ca to take the place of the man before me, but it has haunted me since my inaguration. A large reason as to why I was voted was because the man before me had been painted as a villain. Cruel, narcisstic, lustful, selfish, hateful, are some of the few adjectives used to describe him. And there was a point that I began to believe this about him. I even put on a lie in front of the entire world that I see him as such. But, secretly, we are not too unalike. The actions that I have commit had been overlooked at the time of my election, but as I am growing in age, my allegations and love for that man only grows along with it. I am disgusted to call this house mine because I wish it was ours. As a recent member of the Democratic Party, of course I pretend to stand for the queer community. So a "first man" would not be the issue. The issue is, however, a "six-foot-five and only two hundred twenty-third- or two hundred thirty-fi pounds- well he said six four two hundred- well anyway just take a look at what he says he is." But I, I take a look at who he really is. D*nald J. Trump - born to be my lover, but forced to be my enemy
     I have been trying to get my mind off of what a hunk he is. As I practice my lines for the useless debate that will occur soon, my mind stumbles and moves onto another topic just as my words often do.
     Imagining his rough and rugged hands on me, gentle but disrespectful... the amount of things I would that orange skin, blond but fake-haired, chapped and always puckered lipped man do to me is endless. He wouldn't even have to use hush money. Just him alone with me is enough to make me silent.
     But admist my fantasies, I realise that we truly could never be together. It's too late. I ready myself for the debate.

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