Kermit the Frog knelt on the cold hardwood floor. "It's not easy being green," he sighed. There was a crack as the whip whistled through the chilled air and connected with his already-reddened left ass cheek. "Did I say you could speak?", Donald Trump hissed in his ear, his clammy breath heating Kermit's skin and leaving the scent of gummy bears wafting through the air. Kermit shook his head obediently and shifted cautiously on his knees as the Commander in Chief slowly pressed the gavel that he'd stolen from Justice Scalia into the trembling amphibian's tight hole. How did Sesame Street go so wrong?, the children's idol found himself wondering as his body was forced to accommodate the considerable girth of all of America's justice.
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YOU ARE READING
So I shouldn't be allowed to write without a prompt
RomanceThis is the product of some late-night boredom and, because I'm a pervert, this is what my brain came up with. I can't even blame alcohol for this.
