Snapchat Bae (Donald Trump X Barack Obama)

Parties With Pence ... The ACTUAL PARTY 😩👌

A nude!

Trumps heart thumped so vigorously within his chest that he feared his ribcage may crush. Somewhat angered, he gulped down his feelings and the fact that he was definitely not homosexual re-entered his realisation. Trump was a homophobe and that was that!

Night fell and Donald had sat within his mouldy bath, the murky water bubbling as he allowed gas to escape from his buttocks. He kept thinking about that nude.

His phone stared at him from the bathroom sink and then all of a sudden -- bing! -- hundreds of notifications swept through at once.

Bing! Bing! Bi--

'ENOUGH!' Donald shrieked. He was sure that Melania had heard him, but they weren't in a great place at the moment, so she didn't care.

Donald's saggy orange skin jiggled as he stepped one wet leg out of the bathtub. Perhaps these notifications were from Mike reminding him of the party in half an hour or so.

As Donald entered his passcode, he realised that much to his dismay, only one of those hundreds of messages had been from Pence. The rest were from . . . oh no.

The phone rang, that same Hatsune Miku song blasting. Trump moaned, reluctant to pick up the phone as he wished to hear the rest of such a beautiful song.

Finally, he answered the call.

'Hi babe!' Mike Pence's voice called from the other end. Donald shivered. He knew that Pence meant well, but he was just too obsessed with him -- too obsessed for a pair of bros, anyway. 'I forgot to tell you, it's a fancy dress Christmas party. I'm going as a naughty elf and I was wondering whether you'd like to match with me.'

Donald hesitated for a moment. He suddenly felt uneasy and the cool air chilled his wet skin.

'Sure,' he said at last. 'I'd love to match with you.'

Mike giggled. 'Great! See you in twenty, then.'

Trump sighed as Mike cut the call, gazing down at the moss-covered bathroom tiles. He slipped his only naughty elf costume on and applied his makeup. He switched his phone off completely, ignoring the other 203 messages.

After many moments, Mike Pence's car pulled up in Donald's driveway. He beeped the horn twice and Donald darted outside, gripping the sides of his extremely short dress.

'Hola, you're looking cute!' Mike sighed in awe at Trump.

Trump merely pursed his lips into a very slight grin, anxiously toying with his phone case.

'So many people are going to be at my Christmas party,' Pence explained. 'Like Drake, Nicki, Gambino, Gerard Way, J.K. Rowling, all that . . .'

He trailed off as they neared a red light. Donald Trump's chest felt tight.

'I think some of the guests asked to invite their friends too, but I wasn't listening so I don't know,' Mike added as he slammed the acceleration pedal, his car scraping the side of a building as he sharply turned a corner.

At last, they had arrived at Mike Pence's mansion. It was large and luxurious, and at the front there sat a marble sign that read 'GAYZ n iMmIgRaNt$ G O awAY!!1!1'.

The great doors immediately swung open and the golden chandeliers from inside shone brightly, the loud voices of many people penetrating Trump's sad soul.

'Let's go inside, daddy,' Pence twirled in his naughty elf dress. Donald nodded.

The two entered and Pence had thrown Tyler, The Creator off of the stage in his living room. Two microphones screeched as Mike held them together in ought to capture the attention of the hundreds of guests.

'Trump is in the house, everyone stop what you're--'

'STOP? 😂🚫👀 There is No ⏱Time ⏰⏳ to STOP ✋🙅 When Trump 💯👅 is in THE HOUSE 🏡 he never stops grinding 🔥👌🙏 he works 💼👨‍🎓HARD 👊😤 ALWAYS 😩‼️' a mysterious voice called from within the crowd.

Donald's brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the mansion. He and J.K. Rowling stared at each other for a few moments before Childish Gambino's lips had met hers. A Santa hat had sat upon his head and Trump tried with all of his might to suppress his laughter. Gambino simply looked so ridiculous.

'Stop trying to be me, you little hoe,' Trump called across the dance floor as Childish Gambino had began to strut off.

The night went on as such. There were a few brawls, Nicki Minaj sang Christmas carols and in the corner of the mansion, a beaten body lay half dead on the floor. Who was this person? Trump may never know.

Pence hadn't spoken to Donald all night. He said he would, so Donald Trump felt rather betrayed. He drew the conclusion that only snakes would not follow through on the plans to discuss YaDaddyBoi.

In his boredom, Trump had (very reluctantly) switched on his phone. To his relief, no recent messages had been from YaDaddyBoi . . . until now.

~•~

YaDaddyBoi: i c u 😉😏😩

KingDonald: pls 😧😖 u r stressin mE 😱OUT😱 who r u?!?

YaDaddyBoi: ok babe ,, look 👀 ahead‼️

~•~

Donald Trump exited Snapchat. He gulped, anxiety flowing through his gross body. Suddenly, his eyes locked with a strange masked man.

Although concealed by the mask, Donald felt the man's seductive gaze and was automatically at ease. He moaned.

The masked man's long and dark cloak flowed behind him as he strode towards Donald. Though the man's charming aura had eased Donald's racing heart, his identity was still mysterious and that was unsettling.

'Hello, darling,' YaDaddyBoi's voice was unnaturally deep and unable to be connected to somebody that he knew.

Donald Trump's vision had been blurry and he felt dazed within the thick cloud of fog set off by the SFX machines, as well as the loud music and numerous voices.

He reached an arm out to the man, and as his vision clouded and blackened, his face collided with the floors of Mike Pence's mansion as his consciousness made its departure.

'YaDaddyBoi . . .'

Donald Trump had collapsed.

(2 B CONTINUED | O SHITTTT  he collaspesed !1!2!)