Urple Day!
Because we all have the potential for hideousness.
This is something that misscam and I came up with about a week ago. Quoted from her journal:
Me and adoralyna have decided that next Saturday, February 4th, shall be Urple Day. The wronger, the more hideous, the better. Writing, graphics, poetry - indulge your inner badness.
So, in the spirit of Urple Day, I bring you the most horrible piece of smut I've ever written. I do believe I have outdone myself. *is pleased*
Title: Secret Longings
Pairing: George W. Bush/misscam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masturbation, sodomy, S/M, general squickiness
Feedback: R+R or I'll never write again!!111 No flamez tho
Summary: Just another lonely night up on Capitol Hill...
President George W. Bush stared dejectedly at the massive piles of paperwork on the desk in front of him, sighed and ran his fingers through his shimmering silver locks.
George was tired- not physically but spiritually. A life of 18 hour workdays and public mockery was beginning to take its toll on him and he just felt drained and empty. Sure, he had his family and to the public eye, his marriage and fatherhood seemed ideal. But America didn't know the truth about the lies, the cheating, the betrayal, the children that weren't even his. America knew nothing about the heartbreak hiding behind that winsome smile.
'No, indeed,' George thought ruefully as he took off his jacket, loosened his tie and settled in for another long, lonely night in the Oval Office. Leaning back in his chair, America's rugged leader closed his eyes and gave himself over to sweet fantasy...
Her name was Camilla Sandman- a ravishing Scandinavian brunette with sparkling coffee-colored eyes and lavish bosoms that inspired even the most hardened soul to weep with desperate and tragic lust. She was a goddess- pure, holy, untouchable, inaccessible for a mere bumbing mortal like George...but that fact would not prevent these nightly stroke sessions, nor the brawny, silver-haired chief's fantastical dream of someday conquering Norway and making her his.
George fired up the computer and logged onto the internets. He typed in a familiar address and soon wept like an infant as he found himself face to face with Camilla's pure, unadulterated beauty. The pictures he had been filching off of her online journal for years served the mighty leader well as he undid his pants, wrapped a powerful hand around his presidential sceptre and began to stroke himself with slow tenderness. With his other hand, he reached out and lovingly caressed Camilla's rosy cheek through the computer screen.
"I will be King," he murmured, quoting one of his favorite David Bowie songs. "And you, you will be queen..."
The Commander's hand fell from the monitor and his head dropped against the back of the chair as the familiar, desperate longings coiled within his nether regions and caused his mighty loins to quake and tremble. No earthquake could possibly compete with the powerful lust that ripped through George's puissant frame, making his tumescent presidenthood throb like a jackhammer as he pumped himself with increasing fervor.
Sweat beaded the President's brow and he began to weep as the sweet relief of climax continued to elude him. "Oh Camilla, I need you so," he cried out between desperate moans and animalistic grunts. The illusion that George depended on to bring him release- the ability to close his eyes and pretend that it was Camilla's sweet Viking grotto wrapped around his turgid, quivering shaft- it would not come tonight. With a shout of tortured defeat, the passion-filled president realized that more desperate measures were neccessary.
Reaching into a hidden drawer, George smiled in grim anticipation as he pulled out the worn riding crop. Standing and letting his unbuckled trousers fall around his ankles, the commander in chief bent over the desk, bracing himself with one powerful arm and brandishing the thin leather whip with the other.
"You've been naughty, Mr. President," George mimicked in his best falsetto. "VERY naughty!"
THWACK! Bush shuddered with excitement as he mercilessly cracked the whip across his firm, presidential buttocks and savored the familiar sting. Yes, this was what he needed- a brutal punishment at the delicate hands of his invisible Goddess.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! With every blow, George grunted with increasing pleasure as reality slipped away and he could fully envision a striking Norwegian beauty delivering every precious sting. He wept with pain and relief as his shaky falsetto transformed into the low, silky tones of his imagined lover.
"Spread your legs," the phantom voice commanded softly, yet dangerously. Bush did as he was told and without preamble, the leather handle was jammed roughly into his tight, puckered hole. With a mighty howl, George savored the brutal invasion and began to ride the leather phallus, crying Camilla's name as he wrapped a hand around his quivering weapon of mass destruction and began pumping it like a madman.
"YES!" he screamed raggedly. "Give it to me, you naughty Norwegian nymph!" Without warning, George's impressive throbbing column of liquid love jerked and released a long, hot flood of president juice onto the pristine carpet. He fell to his knees, panting and trembling as the very essence of his masculinity poured from his body in torrents, leaving him so sweetly helpless and vulnerable.
George lay down on the floor and drifted off to sleep, helpless and replete with Camilla's precious name cradled on his lips and in his heart...
She was his salvation.
EDIT: An urple meme for Urple Day!
Request an urple drabble on ANY pairing, fandom or scenerio and I'll give you 100(ish) words of badly written horror on your chosen topic.
This is something that misscam and I came up with about a week ago. Quoted from her journal:
Me and adoralyna have decided that next Saturday, February 4th, shall be Urple Day. The wronger, the more hideous, the better. Writing, graphics, poetry - indulge your inner badness.
So, in the spirit of Urple Day, I bring you the most horrible piece of smut I've ever written. I do believe I have outdone myself. *is pleased*
Title: Secret Longings
Pairing: George W. Bush/misscam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Masturbation, sodomy, S/M, general squickiness
Feedback: R+R or I'll never write again!!111 No flamez tho
Summary: Just another lonely night up on Capitol Hill...
President George W. Bush stared dejectedly at the massive piles of paperwork on the desk in front of him, sighed and ran his fingers through his shimmering silver locks.
George was tired- not physically but spiritually. A life of 18 hour workdays and public mockery was beginning to take its toll on him and he just felt drained and empty. Sure, he had his family and to the public eye, his marriage and fatherhood seemed ideal. But America didn't know the truth about the lies, the cheating, the betrayal, the children that weren't even his. America knew nothing about the heartbreak hiding behind that winsome smile.
'No, indeed,' George thought ruefully as he took off his jacket, loosened his tie and settled in for another long, lonely night in the Oval Office. Leaning back in his chair, America's rugged leader closed his eyes and gave himself over to sweet fantasy...
Her name was Camilla Sandman- a ravishing Scandinavian brunette with sparkling coffee-colored eyes and lavish bosoms that inspired even the most hardened soul to weep with desperate and tragic lust. She was a goddess- pure, holy, untouchable, inaccessible for a mere bumbing mortal like George...but that fact would not prevent these nightly stroke sessions, nor the brawny, silver-haired chief's fantastical dream of someday conquering Norway and making her his.
George fired up the computer and logged onto the internets. He typed in a familiar address and soon wept like an infant as he found himself face to face with Camilla's pure, unadulterated beauty. The pictures he had been filching off of her online journal for years served the mighty leader well as he undid his pants, wrapped a powerful hand around his presidential sceptre and began to stroke himself with slow tenderness. With his other hand, he reached out and lovingly caressed Camilla's rosy cheek through the computer screen.
"I will be King," he murmured, quoting one of his favorite David Bowie songs. "And you, you will be queen..."
The Commander's hand fell from the monitor and his head dropped against the back of the chair as the familiar, desperate longings coiled within his nether regions and caused his mighty loins to quake and tremble. No earthquake could possibly compete with the powerful lust that ripped through George's puissant frame, making his tumescent presidenthood throb like a jackhammer as he pumped himself with increasing fervor.
Sweat beaded the President's brow and he began to weep as the sweet relief of climax continued to elude him. "Oh Camilla, I need you so," he cried out between desperate moans and animalistic grunts. The illusion that George depended on to bring him release- the ability to close his eyes and pretend that it was Camilla's sweet Viking grotto wrapped around his turgid, quivering shaft- it would not come tonight. With a shout of tortured defeat, the passion-filled president realized that more desperate measures were neccessary.
Reaching into a hidden drawer, George smiled in grim anticipation as he pulled out the worn riding crop. Standing and letting his unbuckled trousers fall around his ankles, the commander in chief bent over the desk, bracing himself with one powerful arm and brandishing the thin leather whip with the other.
"You've been naughty, Mr. President," George mimicked in his best falsetto. "VERY naughty!"
THWACK! Bush shuddered with excitement as he mercilessly cracked the whip across his firm, presidential buttocks and savored the familiar sting. Yes, this was what he needed- a brutal punishment at the delicate hands of his invisible Goddess.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! With every blow, George grunted with increasing pleasure as reality slipped away and he could fully envision a striking Norwegian beauty delivering every precious sting. He wept with pain and relief as his shaky falsetto transformed into the low, silky tones of his imagined lover.
"Spread your legs," the phantom voice commanded softly, yet dangerously. Bush did as he was told and without preamble, the leather handle was jammed roughly into his tight, puckered hole. With a mighty howl, George savored the brutal invasion and began to ride the leather phallus, crying Camilla's name as he wrapped a hand around his quivering weapon of mass destruction and began pumping it like a madman.
"YES!" he screamed raggedly. "Give it to me, you naughty Norwegian nymph!" Without warning, George's impressive throbbing column of liquid love jerked and released a long, hot flood of president juice onto the pristine carpet. He fell to his knees, panting and trembling as the very essence of his masculinity poured from his body in torrents, leaving him so sweetly helpless and vulnerable.
George lay down on the floor and drifted off to sleep, helpless and replete with Camilla's precious name cradled on his lips and in his heart...
She was his salvation.
EDIT: An urple meme for Urple Day!
Request an urple drabble on ANY pairing, fandom or scenerio and I'll give you 100(ish) words of badly written horror on your chosen topic.