MILK FIC TRUMPXPENCE

The milk fic: Trump x Pence

President Trump was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Vice President Pence working. The younger boy swirled the spoon around in the over-large bowl before tapping it against the rim and laying it on the counter. "You know it'll cool down a little once I get it in the bag, but is that good?" Pence bent over next to the tub so Trump could slowly dip two fingers into the bowl, nodding once.

"It's fine."

Pence nodded again, reaching out to stroke Trumps slightly greasy toupee before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The hook was already hanging from the shower curtain so Pence could hang the bag as soon as it was full. "Go ahead and take the plug out, baby." His voice was soft, gentle. "And start with your fingers." It was the gentlest of their "darker" interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it's own, was degrading enough on it's own, Pence didn't need to add anything to that. Pence felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other boy had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the boy set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Trump picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.

"You're so fucking hot like that, baby,"

Pence purred, from the sink where the bag was nearly half full. "Now, go ahead." Trump flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his chubby waist, hipbone, the small curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn't even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click from Pence hanging the bag. "Already?" "Don't sound so disappointed," the boy chided softly. "You can keep your fingers in for a second." He almost added a soft 'slut', but stopped himself. Pence leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Trumps large frame for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the boy's neck. "Just think about everything I'll do after," he whispered before straightening back up and slicking lube across the tip of the nozzle and his own fingers. "Okay."

Trump whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn't empty for longer than a few seconds, Pence's fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the nozzle. "Breathe," he murmured, fingers running down the boy's spine. "I'm going to now, okay?" "Wait," Trump choked out. "I'm going to now," Pence repeated, voice a little harder this time. "You're fine." He kept his fingers running along the boy's spine as he loosened the clamp. Trump bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm milk sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Pence's bony fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Pence's fingers would still be the same. When they started, one of Trumps hands flew up to his stomach and Pence stopped the flow without a word, letting the other boy massage his abdomen to ease the pain. "Just tell me."

"Okay," Trump whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Pence loosed the clamp again and Trump felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of liquid he'd taken. "Stop," he choked out again. He wasn't supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He'd felt like he'd taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the bag. "Pen?" he asked, voice close to cracking. "I-I . . . Penc-y." His voice was weak. "You're doing great, baby." The boy leaned down, letting soft kisses feather along Trumps sweaty lower back. "So good." The tears were starting to build up. Trump could feel them in his chest, waiting there, another ache in his body. "I don't . . . I . . ." He let his head fall forward, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus on Pence's fingers instead of the liquid inside him. "Okay," he whispered,voice cracking as the first tears slid down his cheeks. The flow continued and Pence slowed the flow without a say so after five minutes or so. "You're taking it so well, Don," he cooed. "You've got half." He usually didn't tell Trump how much he'd taken, but it had been awhile since they'd done this and he didn't want the boy to break before he managed to get both quarts in. "Half?" Trump asked, voice timid, as if he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disconcerted. "Mhmmm." Pence leaned forward, letting his lips kiss the rolls of Trumps neck, then between the boy's shoulder blades. "Are you ready for more?" When Trump hesitated, Pence squeezed his hip. "You can take it, baby. You've done this before." Trumps head nodded a fraction of an inch, his breathing already labored. He gave a small squeak as the milk started slipping into his body again. "Please, please, I can't." He shook his head, the tears coming out for real now. Pence clamped the nozzle again. "I can't, Pen, please. I . . . I need to . . . please."