It's not your swamp anymore...
Dean Winchester sighs as he releases his bladder, shaking his leg similarly like a dog. The cabin he built several miles away from the Trump Encampment, not far from Shrek's swamp, is cramped, so his body aches as he stretches it out. It feels as though the gay hunter hasn't moved in days.
He hears a pained moan, and cautiously makes his way back to the cabin, peering at the sight before him.
Shrek lies on the floor, gagged and bound. Tears slip from his bewitching eyes, and a whimper is let loose. He's nearly overflowing from the tiny maid costume Dean had forced him in. The sleeves and neckline are much too small for the ogre, and his bountiful fat jiggles free from the slim attire.
The stench of sweat, piss, blood, and shit invades his nose. Shrek has been a naughty, smelly little boy, it seems. It smells as though something is rotting, and small slivers of sunlight slip through the cracks in the walls, illuminating the delicate ogre.
"Hello, pet. Is something wrong?" Dean purrs, taking a step forward to crouch beside him. Shrek tries to scramble away, but Dean's hand shoots out to hold him in place. "Ah ah ah." he chides. "There's no escaping, my delicious cranberry."
He leans in, low voice hardly above a whisper.
"Are you ready for round two?"
Trump is sitting in his office once more, adjusting his ass uncomfortably. El hombre grande had just increased the gauge size for his asshole, trying to prep the orange man for his twenty foot cock.
The door swings open abruptly, signaling the entrance of Edward Cullen, the sparkly faggot vampire. In his fingers grip is a pretty brunette, with indignant anger lashing in his cocoa brown eyes.
"Sir, this hoodlum was just found outside the encampment." Cullen informs, standing tall.
Trump eyes the scrumptious specimen, and smiles. "Leave him with me, Twinkle Toes." he commands. Cullen, who is quite used to the jokes about sparkles, simply throws down the boy and storms away.
"Have a seat, love." Trump coos, gesturing to the chair across from him. The boy stands, cautiously making his way to the desk before hesitantly sitting down. "So," Trump says. "What brings you here, sweetness?"
"Overlord Trump, my name is Ryan Ross. I'm a runaway witch from Hogwarts, across the sea of fuckboi tears. I'm on the run from my demon ex-lover." he says, seemingly in one breath. Trump eyes the brunette hungrily. "Hogwarts, eh? I hear they are very... inventive over there, if you understand what I mean." The cheeto chuckles mirthlessly.
"Tell you what. I can let you stay here, safe from the demon, if you promise to pleasure my men."
Ryan's eyes widen. "P-pleasure, sir? There are at least a thousand soldiers here." Trump's eyes glint. "I'm sure you can handle it. Especially with an ass like that."
The witch sighs, rubbing his face. It doesn't seem he's got a choice. "Alright, trumpo. I will suck as many cocks as I need to."