A notification on my phone lit up my room like the blinding light I saw as I was removed from my mother 19 years ago as a wittle puppy.
“Send knutes,” the DM read. As much as I was charmed, I was also tired. After all, it was 3 PM. I had just woke up from a long night of cyber-yiffing.
Tiredness aside, I was also crazy horny as I usually am. I lazily tapped the DM after removing my fursuit glove, unaware that this would be the start of the most important and life-changing event in my entire life. There he was. His perfect, greasy, goatee-plastered Republican anti-abortion face.
“Fuck…” I whimpered, “Yes please…”
The perfect curvature of his jacket contouring his oily, steamy, burning, broad shoulders. Something about him told me he had glorious feet. I could tell he had a whole three and a half nippies. One could potentially shove a whole sharpie in his mouth. Potentially. I’d bet that I could crawl up his posterior into his stomach, letting him reverse-vore me whole. Something about his wacky political opinions that I disagree with made me shiver with lust down to my wittle itty bitty knees. I was gonna yiff the fuck out of this man if it killed me.
I responded to his DM with a tasteful collection of “knutes,” as he calls them, sent him my home address and told him I wanted sum o that. I prepared by lighting some candles made of virgin earwax, set out some drugged truffles on the fluid-stained cardboard box I use as a coffee table, and set the TV to some tasteful ambient hardcore pornography. I ran outside and rolled in some mud, dirtying my fursuit but not touching my wonderfully hygienic neckbeard and luscious, untouched (except by M’lady Acne) skin. Running back to my kennel, I tripped on one of my many sticky waifu figurines, trophies of my sexual conquest. I set the little loli on the shelf, next to my jar full of… something… and ran into my kennel, shaking my cute wittle butt as I locked myself in.
About an hour later, I heard glass shattering in the other room. He was here! I started viciously pawing at the kennel door and yipping as his heavy footsteps grew louder. The door creaked open, my electrically controlled tail wagging violently. A big leather boot on a bare, scaled leg stepped in. He crouched, and I got my first look at his beautiful face, which he unzipped to reveal an even more beautiful reptilian face. His tongue slapped out, saliva spraying everywhere.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while, little one. It’s business time.” He seductively roared, ripping open my kennel door. He winked and yanked me out of the kennel by my collar. My lips met his eye’s lips, my tongue entering the viscous pupil.
“Where’s your knutesack?” I asked, taking a short breath before continuing to make out with his eye.
“Oh baby don’tchu worry bout my knutesack, just keep sucklin on my eyebawl.”
I kept suckling on his eyeball until I could feel his nippies starting to harden and pulsate slowly against my furry blue chest.
“You like that don’t you..?” I said, breathing warm, dorito-scented breath into his eyes.
“Fuck I wanna impregnate you….” He moaned, gripping my fursuit’s scalp.
“Yo dawg. I’m a dude.” I yipped.
“Welllllll actually I’ve made like 20 dudes my bitch and impregnated them. I use my warts to my advantage.” He said as he quickly repositioned to cram his warty groin-particle inside of me.
“WOAH are you fo shizzle? That’s lit bro!”
“Quit talking, I have a thing for unconscious people and I like to fantasize.”
He thrust into me with the speed and finesse of an aging turtle, his warts seeping orange pus.
What a specimen, I thought as he filled my intestines with body mass.
“Fuck it’s happening!” He yelled as I felt his warm, crinkly fluid release inside of me.
“Pull out dawg!” I yelled, worried I’d be carrying his pups.
“Fuck it’s too late… you have my babies…” he groaned. “What are we gonna do?”
“Guess I could get an abortion.”
“Oh yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I mean, this is unplanned, and neither of us can support this child and nor do we want this child, so we should probably cancel it. Accidents happen. People are going to have sex. You can’t just tell them not to and expect that to fix unplanned pregnancy. Not just that, but my party opposes birth control. People should use as much birth control as they have if they aren’t trying to get pregnant. Condoms at the very least, which cost like four bucks per box. Not a bad investment to make. When birth control fails or a mistake is made or someone is accidentally made pregnant and they don’t want to have that baby, an abortion is not a bad idea. Obviously it’s a hard decision to make but it’s a decision that is up to the person carrying the baby.” Knute Buehler said, gasping for air.
We spent the rest of the day cuddled up in my armpit, and as the sun set, I put a shotgun to his head. Knute, you’re a great man, but you fucking suck.

This message has been approved by Knute Buehler and the GOP.