How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Donald Trump

By Missy Crystal

[Scene 1 - an orbiting spacecraft]

Is the cloaking device activated Lieutenant?

Aye, aye, Captain. We are in an undetectable solar day geosynchronous orbit over the planet.

Excellent. We don't want the Earthlings to know of our intervention. Is the genetic modification program ready to be deployed?

On your command.

Excellent. The Galactic Council wants an attitude adjustment for this belligerent species before they destroy themselves and their planet. Based on their easily manipulated double-stranded DNA, we can get this done and still have time for R & R before returning to base. Okay. Three. Two. One. Boobs away.

[Scene 2 - the White House Master Bedroom]

Good morning, Melania. [POTUS sits up] What the fuck? I've got tits.

Donald, what? [FLOTUS sits up] Oh my god. My beautiful breasts are gone. [Looks at POTUS]. How did you do that. Is this some kind of secret program you've had the scientists working on instead of climate change? This isn't funny. I want them back. Now, Donald!

What are you talking about. I didn't do this. I like women with big tits. You know. I like to grope them and they let me, because I'm a celebrity.

Donald, do you have a pussy too? That would be ironic.

[POTUS puts right hand into pajamas]. No. I still have a dick. Hmmm.

Please let go of yourself and concentrate. How did this happen?

I don't know. That's why I have all those guys on the National Security Council. Maybe it's the Russians. Or the Chinese. Or that North Korean guy with the funny haircut. [POTUS unbuttons pajama tops and looks down admiringly] Actually, this is quite a rack. [POTUS puts hand under breasts and jiggles]. Nice and firm and check out the nipples.

Of course, Donald, it's all about you. What about me. I spent a lot of money on them and now they're gone. None of my designer dresses will fit right. [FLOTUS sighs]. I suppose I can get breast forms. If Angelina Jolie can have hers removed and still look good, I can too. In the meantime, I can stuff my bra with pantyhose. Donald?


That's it. The leader of the free world wakes up with breasts and all you can do is masturbate?

I'm not masturbating.

Your left hand is playing with your nipple. What's your right hand doing?

Confirming my manhood is functional.

You're confirmation is about to make a mess. Donald, really! The world is in crisis and you're jerking off?

Okay. Okay. Geez. I can get dressed and check.

What are you planning to wear? I can loan you one of my bras.

Why do I need a bra?

Because the President of the United States cannot show his nipples.

Why not?

Be my guest, Madam President.


Nothing. More irony.

Are we the same size?

I'd say so. DD, but you're much bigger around your chest. I suppose we could use one of your ties and knot it to the bra band to extend it until you can get your own. Slide your arms through the straps, lean forward and slip your breasts into the cups [FLOTUS starts giggling]. Sorry.

[FLOTUS's is interrupted by frantic knocking on bedroom door].

[POTUS] What? Who is it?

[Voice of VPOTUS] Mr. President, I have breasts. So do all the male staff members. The women lost theirs. Kelly Anne refuses to come out of the bathroom. What should we do?

Where's Bannon?

I believe he is drafting an Executive Order for transgendered equality.

Mike, do you have tits too?

Yes. You need to listen. We all do.

Are they as big as mine?

I don't know. Open the door.

Okay. [POTUS walks over and opens bedroom door] Holy crap, Mike! You're wearing a dress.

Yes, it's my wife's. [VPOTUS twirls around]. Do you like it? Do you think it makes my butt look big?

Very pretty. Melania. I need a dress.

Mine won't fit you. They're all tailored.

I'm the President and Commander and Chief. I can't go out like this. Get me a god damn dress. And stockings? Do I need stockings? And one of those sexy things with straps?

You need to shave your legs if you want to wear stockings and I wear pantyhose. Garter belts are for porno stars. Never mind. I forgot who I'm talking to.

Okay, whatever. Pence has a dress. I want a dress. The President has to look better than the VP.

I could probably find a skirt with an elastic waist and a lose top.

Is it a designer?

I thought you were more interested in taking women's clothes off than putting them on.

[VP's cell phone rings] Hello. Yes, right away. Mr. President, the National Security Council is waiting for you in the West Wing. We need to go.

I'm not dressed. Melania!

Here. [Hands POTUS a gray silk accordion-pleated skirt and white blouse].

Panties too?

Seriously, Donald? You can't wear your boxers? Who's going to see what you have underneath?

What if someone looks up my skirt?

Yes, I forgot your preference for Wall Street perverts. Panties it is. White or black? Silly question. Here. [FLOTUS hands POTUS black nylon hip huggers with lace inserts at the hips]. Now get dressed. I'm just going to get my cell phone. [FLOTUS in Slovenian]. This has to be the mother of all Kodak moments.


Never mind.

[Scene 3 - West Wing NSC conference room]

Are we all here? General, you're out of uniform. [POTUS laughs at Mad Dog]. General Mattis returns a one fingered salute.

Okay guys, brief me.

[Derisive laughter as POTUS sits down and flashes panties]. Those are some briefs. For Christ sakes, Donald, cross you legs.

Is this happening all over the world? [POTUS fondles breasts].

[National Security Advisor Kelley] As far as we can determine, Mr. President. Oh my God, all that trouble to rig the election and I can't stop thinking that you look like Hillary. [Laughs uncontrollably. Rest of NSC joins in].

She wore pantsuits. Okay, I want an Executive Order banning pantsuits. Then everyone will know how much better my legs look.

Mr. President, we have a military crisis.

Wait. [Takes out cell phone] I'm going to Tweet: Donald J. Trump @ realDonaldTrump. My legs better than Hillary's. Look her up. Big thighs.

Mr. President, we have a military crisis.

Can I nuke them?


Whoever is causing the crisis?


Why not?

Because we don't know who is causing it.

It has to be the Russians. Or the Chinese. They don't like us. Or the North Koreans. They hate us. Nuke them all.

The problem isn't them, it's us.

You just said it was them.

No, Sir, you said it was them. I said it was us.

You want me to nuke the US?

Not the letters U and S, as in United States; us, as in us men with tits. Because our soldiers don't have bras. They can't go into battle bouncing and jiggling. It's distracting. We have the Pentagon procurement office designing battle bras, but they say it will take two to five years for a prototype and they will cost $9,000 each.

What if we have them made offshore? I could call the factory in China that makes my ties.

The Chinese have declared bras a military resource. They won't export them.

You mean the Chinese soldiers have bras and ours don't? This is terrible. We need to close the bra gap. [Laughter from NSC].

What about getting rid of these tits. At least for the military. You know, join up, see the world, lose your tits. I'll bet recruitment would go way up. The AHCA doesn't cover breast removal. According to Bannon, it doesn't cover anything, which is why it will save us a ton of money. It would be a nice perk for enlistment. That reminds me, where is that guy?

He's hiding in the bathroom with Kelly Anne, I believe.

The same bathroom?

He had the Secretary of HHS declare that all public restrooms are now unisex.

What do the scientists say?

You fired them all.

What about the doctor guy?

What doctor guy?

The one who tells people they'll die if they smoke, him.

The Surgeon General?


The tobacco lobby convinced you not to appoint one.

Obama had one, didn't he?


What about him. Is he still around?

Maybe. We can check.

In the meantime, do we know if Putin has bigger tits than me?


Bigger tits. Pay attention. As the world leader, I have to have bigger tits than Putin or the English woman or what's her name, the German. No, wait, they don't have tits any more, so mine are bigger than theirs. But what about Putin. I can't make great deals if I don't have bigger tits.

I thought you said you had to be a bigger dick. Sorry, have a bigger dick. We lost twelve agents trying to get a peek at his pecker to confirm your superior manhood. Now you want to know his bra size?

It's a matter of national security.

[Scene 4 - the Oval Office]

Well, Mike? Did you find him?

Yes, but he won't come.

[POTUS has tantrum] I'm the fucking President of the fucking United fucking States of fucking America. What the fuck do you mean he won't come.

He said something in a foreign language which I took to be directions for you to engage in self procreation.


I believe the translation is to go fuck yourself.

What about someone else?

I spoke to about a dozen doctors. The AHCA hasn't made you very popular with the medical profession. They all offered you the same advice as the Surgeon General. The best I could do is Newt Gingrich's wife's gynecologist, Dr. Strangelove.

He's a pussy doctor?

Yes, a gynecologist.

Send him in.

[Man in white lab coat enters] Gudt evenink Herr Fuhrer, umm, Mr. President. [Tries to suppress raised arm salute by grabbing arm. Struggles briefly].

Dr. Strangelove, thank you for coming. I need some help understanding what is going on. Why do men have tits. [POTUS gropes breasts for emphasis]. Hmmm.

Mr. President?

Oh, right. Why do we have these babies and the women don't?

Yes, babies.

What about these babies. Nice, huh? Bigger than Putin's. Hillary's too, when she had them. World class.

Yes, Herr, Mr. President, but is not boobies, is babies, liddle ones, I am thinkink. Dat bin da reason fur breaschts on men. Evolution.

Doctor, I am a very smart man. I have a business degree from Wharton which daddy paid a lot of money to get me. He had to give them a friggin' building. Evolution is a hoax. The Chinese invented it to confuse us.

Nein, real evolution. Millions of years, but mit all da microwaves ve bin broadcast, I belief ve haf shpeedt it tup. Separatink havink da babies frum raisink da babies bin da logical necht shtep.

Raising babies?

Yes. Breaschts, fully functional. Can give milk. Ya, see, leaking.

What do you mean leaking? [POTUS looks at crotch]. I'm perfectly dry.

Not there. Here. [Doctor points to POTUS's chest]. See, breaschts are beink full mit milk unt da nipples, leaking. [Doctor walks over and squeezes POTUS's right breast].

Jesus Christ, who said you could feel me up.

An experimink. Like cow. Give milk. You nursing. See. [Dr. Strangelove points to large wet spot spreading over POTUS's chest]. You vill need to milk efrey few hours. If no, breaschts mach pain.

They are beginning to feel pretty heavy and tight. Can you show me how?

Nicht mit da titty shkweezin.

This is America. Speak English.

No. Squeeze your own tits.

What about removing them?

No gudt. Grow back, I tink.

Tits grow back?

Women's breaschts, nein. No. Men's ya. Yes, regenerate. Develop quickly.

[Telephone rings on POTUS's desk. VPOTUS answers]. Hello. Yes, he knows. No he doesn't know. I'll tell him. Donald, the troops are lactating.

Mike, small words. I have a business degree.

Another military crisis. Our armed forces need to milk themselves every few hours. They can't concentrate. We need breast pumps to speed things up.


They're made in China too.

Okay, I've had it with the Chinese. Where's the football?

That's your solution to everything? Nuke 'em.

Yes. You tell those motherfuckers that either they hand over the bras and pumps or we blow them off the face of the earth.

[Scene 5 - deep space]

Captain, I just received a communication from the Galactic Counsel.

They want to give me a promotion for my brilliant handling of the Earth assignment? Admiral has a nice ring to it.

No. They said to tell you that their long range telemetry just confirmed the Earth blew up and, being the one responsible for the extinction of an entire species, if you know what's good for you and the crew, the ship will embark on a one way mission to explore new worlds in a galaxy far, far away.

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