CHAPTER I: IN PREPARATION OF THE AWAKENING

                                    

                                              


                          
November 8, 2015
                          
Mushy yam-colored skin slapped against tawny young flesh with each of Trump's thrusts. His hair waving to and fro, his crinkled orange face in a tight pucker. He was close to climax.

                          
Making a short, loud open-mouth cough, he overtly shouted, "Rebuild the Empire!" with climax. Donald liked trying new campaign slogans at the point of peak pleasure to see if they could carry the weight of true emotion.
                          
Having finished, he fell suddenly and at full speed, like the end scene in Moby Dick, breaching back onto the small-malnourished model with whom he shared his bed. She gave out a quick gasp, raising her Swarovski covered wrists to cover her breasts and face, hoping Trump's weight wouldn't pop a synthetic breast.
                          
Trump liked feeling his weight upon his most recent Eastern European immigrant guest; it reminded him of his power. Helping her get her green card and learn English was, in his mind, a certain form of charity. With a long exhale, he pulled himself off her.
                          
"Tomorrow I go on Kanye's yacht," he sighed.
                          
"Yak?" She asked.
                          
"Big boat. Kanye's. He's an important donor, I must support him."
                          
"Candy?"
                          
"It's Kanye, that black guy who sings, dabbles in fashion? Don't worry your pretty head, get some rest. Reaching into his bedside drawer, he pushed aside a bottle of Viagra and grabbed a bottle of Klonopin.
                          
"Sleep my dear," Trump cooed, handing the model a pill, "Tomorrow is a big day for me."
                          
The model gulped down the pill, shortly passing out, an ever growing pool of saliva wetting her pillow.
                          


                          


                          
"Do I really have to wear these?" Bernie said, snapping his Yeezy's together like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
                          
"Of course," his wife Jane said, "Kanye is an important donor, impressing him is important," giving him a tight squeeze on the rump. Her cheeks were still flushed from their non-gender specific pegging morning romp in the sheets. Everyone deserves equality, even in the bedroom. During this daily morning ritual, pleasure was monitored consistently by both parties to ensure a fair and safe environment.
                          
"I made a point not to take money from donors," Bernie whined.
                          
"I know, but if you don't take his money, at least ask for his support." Bernie knew Jane was right. Although Obama had called Kanye an "ass hole" in the past, Kanye had recently won over him and Taylor Swift. He seemed to be in with Bernie's in-crowd. And besides, his Yeezys were growing on him. They were much more fashionable than his usual velcro-leather sneakers (although they had less sole support).
                          
He quickly crammed Vermont maple syrup candies and "Character Is Destiny: Inspiring Stories Every Young Person Should Know and Every Adult Should Remember" by John McCain into his canvas duffle bag. The old bag had been with him since his year at Brooklyn College. Scotch Taped up so many times, he liked the worn, used image the bag conveyed. Bernie headed for the train from Vermont down to Kanye's yacht, moored in Southampton.
                          


                          


                          
Hillary looked at herself in the mirror. Long gone were the days of the WASP yellow power suit and yet she wasn't sure how to best impress Kimye. Hillary put in her large pearl earrings and accent necklace set. Her thick wool bright blue suit was always a safe staple. After all, this suit had won her millions worth of support in the past, why stop now?
                          
Calling in her makeup artist. "Maybe a little more contouring," She instructed, "Like in that Kim Kardashian Youtube videos." She really wanted to get into the shoes of Kim (in a figurative, not ShoeDazzle kind of way).
                          
Hillary was fascinated by Kimye. Her team had tried and tried, but didn't seem able to catch the energy this couple easily controlled. So much free press. How did they do it? She'd be in the game for ages, but couldn't seem to upgrade her techniques to win over Millennials, at least not like Bernie. She made a mental note to ask Kim for some tips in private later, maybe get her on a call with some of her staff. Perhaps she could convince Kylie to launch a "Power Suit" shade lip kit, with the proceeds going to her campaign (although she knew Kris Jenner would never let that happen).
                          


                          
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