Donald Trump erotica

The Day I got to Vote

Urgghhhhh. I'm so pissed, my daddy doesn't understand me.

My name is Felicia. I'm the youngest of three triplets.
My two older brothers don't understand me, the nicest thing Farkle and Fergle have done is pick my nose for me. I wish someone out there could understand what it's like to be me. My father is a Democratic Socialist and he's all for 'equality' and everyone having 'basic rights' ew. What's the point, we're all gonna die anyway.

Everyone idolises my dad, they think he's so perfect. He's "so opressed and even though he hates human interaction hes so strong and manly" yuck. My mum is more manly than him.

What even is 'manly'? What's most masculine? Farting in a swamp all day or having true courage. Shrek is my father and I hate him. I could be bald and fart and make jokes in the form of insults to my few friends. If I did that? Then would people like me?

I'm so alone.

Everyone's so 'open minded' and against murder, well you know what, I like guns, I'd use one to shoot my dad in the head. He told me he was worried about me the other day! Ha! He just doesn't understand politics, how I believe this country needs to be great again.

That's why I love Donald, such a simple name for a classy guy, he's such a beautiful shade of orange, my green could meet him in the middle and we could be yellow like the heavens light, or the flaming ball of death that is the sun. My mum banned me from praying to Trump, begging him to keep basic human rights like education and health care bone breakingly expensive. She doesn't understand either, how can our economy survive if we don't continue taxing the poor more than the rich?

I plan to defy them tonight, they don't own me, I sold my soul to my local child-rapist-priest, only he can control me, him and the laws of this goddamn country. I want my freedom so I shall pray for it!

I clasped my hands together over my poorly made woven bed and whisper to Trump, my true daddy, the soon to be daddy of this county.

"Mr Trump, I ask you to hear me, I saw your most recent speech today, your New York accent gives me chills. I wish I could have a dad like you, I know I always say this but, I wish I could meet you, I wish I could be the daughter you want to give your trump stump to urgh.

"This country needs a man in charge, not a little old man/lady, a real man. A man who could convince Mexico to build a wall, a man who has been the worst thing to ever happen to Isis, a man who could wrap his meaty hooks around me and whisper in my ear as he fucks all of my oraphaces, about how he can protect me, and take me to Jesus with his heavenly 1/4 inch cock.

"God I want you so much Donald, tommorow I get to go out and vote for you, and its going to be the best day of my life."

I woke up the next day to the sight of my room, Brown and boring, my Trump shrine is hidden behind a slab of bark but otherwise everything is plain. Shrek and Fiona refused when I tried to paint my walls black like my soul. I'm a Princess! I don't deserve this crap!

I cover my body in white foundation, knowing that everyone's prettier when they're white, because the media says it so it MUST be true. I add eyeliner, wings so on point that the tips reach my ears. Then I get dressed, I wear black skinny jeans and a black shirt from an emo/country band you won't have heard of because I'm so hipster.

So I go out to my local polling station, I decide to skip school because I'm too cool for that and I'm going to end up ruling the kingdom of far far away anyway? Depending on if my brothers survive that long that is.

I sit outside of the polling station, my skinny jeans being stained by gravel. I let my fringe fall over my eyes and plug in my headphones. I listen to teenage dirtbag by wheatus on repeat. I really relate to that song but nO I AM NOT A LEBANEES. I chose to be straight, like anyone would at the sight of Donald Trump. He floods my thoughts, I want to be his Noelle, to listen to Iron Maiden with him. I could do his eyeliner, God, he'd look prettier than he already is.