WHO WOULD DO THIS GODDAMN YOU TO HELL
Found elsewhere on the series of tubes: George W. Bush/Donald Rumsfeld/Dick Cheney/Karl Rove slash, with W. infantilized.
“They’re making fun of me again”
Donald Rumsfeld sighed and stood up from behind the massive oak fortification in the oval office. Against a wall was a small, gleefully yellow desk, with the presidential crayons, the foreign policy coloring book, and a large friendly looking computer covered with stickers. George was sitting on his usual stool trying to manipulate the large orange mouse ball that Condoleezza had bought him. It was his forth mouse ball this month, ‘childproof’ proving not to be Presidential proof, he had already lost two and broken a third.
Donald stared at the screen. They were indeed making fun of W again, unless there were people out there actually aroused by a cartoon of an Oval office rogering perpetrated by an elephant.
“Dubya-diddems, come sit on my lap and we’ll see what we can do about it”.
Donald returned to his seat behind the Resolute Desk, spreading his thighs to allow George a comfortable seat. George loved Donald’s lap; it was warm and squishy and he was often given treats on it. Today, for example, Donald was teasing the skin on ‘Pokey’, stroking it in ways that sent chills through his body and reminded him slipping ‘fins to sorority girls.
“So, diddems, why where you reading those sites anyway?”
“I was only trying, I wanted, I um…”
“You were looking for naked pictures of Condoleezza again, weren’t you?” George nodded, abash.
“Well Diddly-Do, what are we going to do with you?” George arched his lap up, expressing his preference. Donald hit the intercom button.
“Grace, could you send Cheney in?” He reached under Bush’s shirt and teased across the nipple. “In the mean time, let’s do our Drill:
England?”
“Good”
“Why?”
“Because they do what I want and because Cheri let me feel her up at the last State dinner?”
“Good enough. France?
“Bad, Because they’re French”
“Good Boy. That deserves a little extra.” Rumsfeld licked under George’s ear.
“Pakistan?”
“Good?”
“Hmmm we’ll get back to that one. North Korea?”
“Bad? Is that the one that won’t give us oil?”
“No Diddems, wrong country”
“Um, who wouldn’t share?”
“No-one anymore, Diddems”
Dick Cheney staggered in, supported by Karl Rove. His skin is waxy and his eyes loll lazily in their socket, and he appeared to be muttering something under his breath.
Kill me
“You needed him?” Karl’s forehead is beaded with sweat. Puppeteering a 260 lb man is clearly a strenuous job.
Leaning over Georges head, Donald replied, “SOMEONE’S been on the internet again looking for naughty pictures of Condoleezza”
Karl tsk’d at George, shaking his head and wearing an exaggerated frown.
“Naughty Diddems, you know you’re not supposed to do that”
George was feeling flushed and pleasant. The hand stroking his pokey was warm and comfortable without urgency and filled him with a feeling of well, cockiness. He could do anything right now, anything at all.
“Wanna see Condoleezza’s boobies” Some of his aspirations were lower than others.
Karl heaved the Vice President across the giant desk, leaving him sprawled face down across files and ‘eyes onlys’ his legs dangling in space. Cheney’s cheeks flopped helplessly against the wood, reminisent of a goldfish drowning in air. Easily distracted, Bush slid off of Rumsfeld’s lap and began kneading the fleshy orbs of Cheney’s ass.
Kill me
“Diddems, if you want that you have to do something for me”
Rumsfeld’s voice was stern. With an elaborate sigh Georgie dropped to his knees and began shuffling towards the desk.
“No, not that. I want you to sign an executive order”
Georgie perked up immediately. “Who are we execututing today?”
"No Georgie, not one of those. A proclomation, so that Karl and I can get some work done around here”.
A crafty look crossed George’s normally vacant face.
“I’ll do it on two conditioners. I wanna see Condoleezza’s boobies and I want to play horsie with Dick.”
“Greedy brat”
Georgie beamed and began pulling the trousers off of Cheney’s opulent form. His flesh was soft here, tender and warm and Georgie spread the heavy flanks’, revealing Dick’s tightly puckered opening.
“And for Christ sake, use lube this time” Donald was already bent over his work, drafting the new order.
George’s glare was pro forma. He spit wetly on his fingers and shoved them deep, eliciting a soft groan from Cheney.
Kill me
George was already fumbling with his pants, pulling pokey free when Karl caught his wrist.
“Lube, Georgie. Or you’ll spend the next week kissing it better”
He handed George a pump action bottle of ‘Wet’, watching heatedly as Georgie squirted a generous amount on his fingers. The desk shuddered in a rhythmic heave as he pointed to a word on the document Donald was drafting.
“Change that to pernicious”
“Condoleezza’s gonna shit a brick”
“Fuck her”
“No thanks, not when I have you” and Donald pulled Karl into a wet embrace. Behind them Georgie grunted and strained, slapping hard against unresisting flesh.
“They’re making fun of me again”
Donald Rumsfeld sighed and stood up from behind the massive oak fortification in the oval office. Against a wall was a small, gleefully yellow desk, with the presidential crayons, the foreign policy coloring book, and a large friendly looking computer covered with stickers. George was sitting on his usual stool trying to manipulate the large orange mouse ball that Condoleezza had bought him. It was his forth mouse ball this month, ‘childproof’ proving not to be Presidential proof, he had already lost two and broken a third.
Donald stared at the screen. They were indeed making fun of W again, unless there were people out there actually aroused by a cartoon of an Oval office rogering perpetrated by an elephant.
“Dubya-diddems, come sit on my lap and we’ll see what we can do about it”.
Donald returned to his seat behind the Resolute Desk, spreading his thighs to allow George a comfortable seat. George loved Donald’s lap; it was warm and squishy and he was often given treats on it. Today, for example, Donald was teasing the skin on ‘Pokey’, stroking it in ways that sent chills through his body and reminded him slipping ‘fins to sorority girls.
“So, diddems, why where you reading those sites anyway?”
“I was only trying, I wanted, I um…”
“You were looking for naked pictures of Condoleezza again, weren’t you?” George nodded, abash.
“Well Diddly-Do, what are we going to do with you?” George arched his lap up, expressing his preference. Donald hit the intercom button.
“Grace, could you send Cheney in?” He reached under Bush’s shirt and teased across the nipple. “In the mean time, let’s do our Drill:
England?”
“Good”
“Why?”
“Because they do what I want and because Cheri let me feel her up at the last State dinner?”
“Good enough. France?
“Bad, Because they’re French”
“Good Boy. That deserves a little extra.” Rumsfeld licked under George’s ear.
“Pakistan?”
“Good?”
“Hmmm we’ll get back to that one. North Korea?”
“Bad? Is that the one that won’t give us oil?”
“No Diddems, wrong country”
“Um, who wouldn’t share?”
“No-one anymore, Diddems”
Dick Cheney staggered in, supported by Karl Rove. His skin is waxy and his eyes loll lazily in their socket, and he appeared to be muttering something under his breath.
Kill me
“You needed him?” Karl’s forehead is beaded with sweat. Puppeteering a 260 lb man is clearly a strenuous job.
Leaning over Georges head, Donald replied, “SOMEONE’S been on the internet again looking for naughty pictures of Condoleezza”
Karl tsk’d at George, shaking his head and wearing an exaggerated frown.
“Naughty Diddems, you know you’re not supposed to do that”
George was feeling flushed and pleasant. The hand stroking his pokey was warm and comfortable without urgency and filled him with a feeling of well, cockiness. He could do anything right now, anything at all.
“Wanna see Condoleezza’s boobies” Some of his aspirations were lower than others.
Karl heaved the Vice President across the giant desk, leaving him sprawled face down across files and ‘eyes onlys’ his legs dangling in space. Cheney’s cheeks flopped helplessly against the wood, reminisent of a goldfish drowning in air. Easily distracted, Bush slid off of Rumsfeld’s lap and began kneading the fleshy orbs of Cheney’s ass.
Kill me
“Diddems, if you want that you have to do something for me”
Rumsfeld’s voice was stern. With an elaborate sigh Georgie dropped to his knees and began shuffling towards the desk.
“No, not that. I want you to sign an executive order”
Georgie perked up immediately. “Who are we execututing today?”
"No Georgie, not one of those. A proclomation, so that Karl and I can get some work done around here”.
A crafty look crossed George’s normally vacant face.
“I’ll do it on two conditioners. I wanna see Condoleezza’s boobies and I want to play horsie with Dick.”
“Greedy brat”
Georgie beamed and began pulling the trousers off of Cheney’s opulent form. His flesh was soft here, tender and warm and Georgie spread the heavy flanks’, revealing Dick’s tightly puckered opening.
“And for Christ sake, use lube this time” Donald was already bent over his work, drafting the new order.
George’s glare was pro forma. He spit wetly on his fingers and shoved them deep, eliciting a soft groan from Cheney.
Kill me
George was already fumbling with his pants, pulling pokey free when Karl caught his wrist.
“Lube, Georgie. Or you’ll spend the next week kissing it better”
He handed George a pump action bottle of ‘Wet’, watching heatedly as Georgie squirted a generous amount on his fingers. The desk shuddered in a rhythmic heave as he pointed to a word on the document Donald was drafting.
“Change that to pernicious”
“Condoleezza’s gonna shit a brick”
“Fuck her”
“No thanks, not when I have you” and Donald pulled Karl into a wet embrace. Behind them Georgie grunted and strained, slapping hard against unresisting flesh.