Joe walks into his office for the last time. So many memories. Stories he'd shared with his best friend. Barack, after all, was his best friend. Nothing more. Or so he tried to tell himself. Repressed emotions aside, Joe was at least a little happy to say goodbye to the White House. Not every day had been a picnic, of that he was certain. Still, he'd spent eight years here working to better the land he loved. It was a bittersweet goodbye.
Just as he turned to leave, he felt strong, albeit tiny, hands on his shoulder. Firm but not rough, and gentle but not weak. The touch startled him, but comforted him at the same time. It felt like the grip of an old friend. He was just about to speak when a deep, bass voice shushed him before the words escaped him.
"Easy there, Joe." It was Barack Obama. President of the United states, if only for the next fifteen minutes. Joe couldn't believe how tiny his hands were.
"Barry, I-"
"Don't worry, Joe. Just , uh, let this happen." Joe felt a firm tug on his waistline. One of the president's firm but small hands was now attempting to pull his pants down without concern for a belt. Joe felt it oddly romantic but incredibly stupid, given how universal the knowledge o buckles was to people in his social circle, especially his intellectual bestie.
"Need help with tha-" as the former Vice President of the United States turned to aid his molester, he caught a brilliant glimpse of orange and blonde.
"No, I- (the voice was familiar, New York, but somehow escaped Joe's memory) *ahem* I mean. Ahh got it." His voice reformed into that of Barack Obama's natural charming drawl. With supernatural strength, the President wrenched at Joe's waistline, tearing not only his pants away but shredding his "I Heart Obama" boxers. What a shame, Joe thought. I wore those just for him.
Obama(?)'s tiny doll hands squeezed firmly into Joe's peachy buttcheeks. The sensation made Joe's pert anus clench at the thought of being pierced. A thick, New York accented "Mmm" drifted off the attacker's lips, but soon once again caught itself and reverted to that of Obama's. Joe, while suspicious, would be remiss to interrupt what may be his dream come true. The President bent the Vice President over the latter's former desk. He then held him there at the shoulder with one tiny, tiny baby hand and brought the other to his erect cock to guide himself in. With as much ease as an unlubricated anal penetration could muster, 2 solid cylindrical inches pushed past Biden's anal sphincter and into his anus.
"Damn, Barack. Your dick's fatter than I thought."
"Of course it is. It's 'Uge." Joe whipped his head around before he could be stopped again and found himself anus to hips with the President of the United states. Just not the one he'd been tricked into thinking.
"Donald!"
"Shut up. I'm not gay." Donald Trump was, in fact, gay. In fact, as the evidence would show, he was currently balls deep in a man. 2 solid inches deep. 2. Just 2. This revelation stirred in Joe's mind and suddenly the betrayal of being fucked in the ass by Donald Trump was beset by the fact that Trump's dick was the very essence of the word "chode". Joe laughed with as much mirth as his body could handle. Donald's already disgustingly red face suddenly deepened in tone in due parts to anger, embarrassment, and arousal as Joe's tight, meaty ass clenched and unclenched rapidly from the strain. The stimulation proved too much for Drumpf and, with a bellow that shook Mount Rushmore (where his face wasn't), the new President ejaculated a jet of semen with enough force to pop Biden's lower intestinal walls.
"Ah fuck!" Biden screamed as he bled from his anus. There was nothing he could use to plug the hole and the bleeding was profuse. He dropped to the floor, weak. Not like watching Kevin Hart weak, but pretty weak.
"I'm not gay," Trump said, zipping up his pants and walking away. But he was gay. He was gay for Joe Biden and he'd just murdered him with his penis.
