100 days into “president” Drumpf’s rule.
As an anarcho-syndicalist, demisexual, genderqueer lant@ MtF transexual, my world has become a nightmare.
	The first two months after the election we kind of stood around in shock. How could Hilldog have lost? How could Trump be president?
	When he took office, we woke up. When he cut welfare, I was financially devastated. I was forced to actually get a *job*.  I can’t fucking work because I have PTSD from Pro-Gamergate Trolls on Twitter! And besides, no one would hire me because Trump made it legal for transphobic, kinkshaming companies to refiuse to hire me because I came to the interview with dyed hair, bondage gear, and the Trans Pride flag I keep wrapped around myself at all times. Fuck you and your white cisscum *hygiene issues*! I am a disabled transwomen who requires my self care items, fuck you and your transphobic kinkshaming!
	And then Trump began to deport the illegal immigrants and muslim refugees! Instead of culturally enriching us, they were being sent back to the war torn countries they came from, and their jobs were being taken away and given to disgusting white cis men in redneckistan! I saw many of my latinx sisters being rounded up to be deported.Those who resisted were shipped off to the death camps and LGTBQ+ conversion centers Trump had set up across Amerikka!
	We tried to fight back, we really did. We held protests in the streets, burned cop cars, and made an online petition to have California secede from the union. And when the cis white male oppressors said that “no, states can’t secede from the union”, we did it anyway!
	That’s when the war began. Trump’s goons, the US Military and his special forces recruited from the alt-right hate site 4chan swept in. We tried to resist him. But our pink dildos and angry tweets were no match against 5.56 NATO rounds. Berkeley was razed to the ground, countless gender-nonconformists screaming as bullets ripped through their bodies, and the survivors were hauled off to the gas chambers. Oakland was designated “coontown”, and any PoC survivors who came quietly were allowed to live there as slaves under Trump’s marshal law. San Francisco was just firebombed, countless Starbucks, anarchist bookstores, and vegan restaurants consumed in a fiery holocaust.
	100 days into the Trump presidency. The Wall is still being built, using enslaved illegal immigrants and BLM protestors. The west coast is under martial law, as Trump’s forces purge any resistance. LA is a smoldering ruin, ravaged by gangs of rouge Trump supporters. Nobody respects my bun/buns/bunself pronouns, Tumblr has been shut down, and only evil racist cis white people are getting any welfare benefits.
	It it time to take matters into my own hands. President Trump is going to be speaking at Dodger Stadium, at a rally of the pacification of the west coast.
	I am going to assassinate him. I have a pink .45 caliber semiautomatic, and a disguise. I will blend in with the crowd of alt-right thugs, get in close, and end this nightmare.
	The smell of sulphur and destruction is thick in the air as I waddle down Centennial street. Rows of burnt out houses, which once housed right thinking liberals like me, now sit as smoldering husks. In the distance, the sound of gunfire and cries of “ME NO SPEAK TACO BELL BITCH” ring out.
	There’s a van coming. I do a tactical roll into some rubble and hide. The van stops. It’s covered in “Trump 2016” signs, crude drawings of skeletons, rare Pepes, and swastikas. “MOBILE GAS CHAMBER” is scrawled on the side.
	A man in a trenchcoat, fedora, and skull mask gets out. He draws a customized Desert Eagle pistol with a tactical sight and high capacity ammo clip, and fires a round at a nearby bush. A cry of pain rings out, and another Trump goon, this one wearing a MAGA cowboy hat and anime t-shirt, rushes in and drags out a person. It’s another transwomyn of color, with the same color hair dye as me. I freeze up.
“LOL LOOKS LIKE WE CAUGHT ANOTHER FUCKING TRANNY GOOGLE!” screams the man in the trenchcoat.
“YOU SAID IT TYCE!” yells Cowboy hat, as he aims an AK-47 at the womyns face.
	Trenchcoat draws a katana, and starts hacking away at the womyn, the cries of pain interspersed with shouts of “DIE YOU FUCKING TRANNY FAG NIGGER JEW!”, “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN”, “RULZ OF NATURE BITCH”, and “GO HOME GAMER GIRL!”.
	I silently weep as the Trumpers finish their work, and head back to van.
	“Yo, that’s 25 degenerates we’ve killed today Ben! Like, fucking A+ bro! God-Emperor Trump is, like, gonna promote us to, like, Death Squad Commanders after tonight!”
	“Don’t firget bout all them wimmnfolk we raped today! Theys ain’t gonna have no abortions now thanks ta da Empera, so’s we kin raise up a whole new geniration of White Soldiers!”
	“You fuckin said it Ben” said Trenchcoat, as he grabbed his genitals in joy over his cis het male privilege.
	The van lumbers off toward the stadium. I rise from my hiding place and quickly put on the set of converted bedsheets that serve as my disguise. No Trans-Latinx warrior would be let inside a 100 meters of Dodger Stadium. But another Klan member would be welcomed with open arms.
	I merge into the crowd heading into the stadium, and am relieved to see I’m not the only in a Klan uniform. Countless Trump fanatics, dressed in white robes, trenchcoats, anime nazi t-shirts, and the ubiquitous MAGA hats surround me. The air buzzes with the chant of “KILL THE NIGGERS, KILL THE JEWS, KILL THE FAGS AND TRANNYS TOO!”
	I’m in the hornets nest. One false move and I’ll be torn to shred by 4chan gamergate Trump fanboys. I know I am going to my death. But if I can take out Trump, and prevent our last few safe spaces from being violated, it will all be worth it.
	My gut sinks and my PTSD threatens to overcome me as a cheer goes up, and a lone figure walks onto the stage. The golden hair. The orange face.
	President Trump.
As a round of “SIEG HEILS” goes up, I struggle to prevent myself from being triggered. Now is not the time to crytype on Twitter about how the trolls are being mean. I have a mission that I must fulfil.
	“MY FELLOW AMERICANS!” roared Trump, a pearly grin flashing across his face as a wave of male privilege ripped through the audience.
	“WE STAND ON THE VERGE OF MAKING OUR NATION GREAT AGAIN! In the span of 100 days, we have uncucked America from the political correctness that has been poisoning us! The wall is being built as we speak! The illegals and muslims are being deported! Women now know their place! The jobs are coming back! Liberal pussies on college campuses are getting the fuck triggered out of them! Sexual deviants are being purged from society! Top scientists say that anime will be made real in the next two years! And it is all thanks to you!”
I am literally shaking in rage. I must take the shot, or else be too triggered and blow my disguise.
	In one fumbling, clumsy action I draw the pistol, aim, and fire. I try to scream “FUCK YOU DRUMPF YOU RACIST SHIT”, but it comes out more like “REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”.
	The first shot sends a shockwave through my arm, as my flabby, vegan latte fed arms spasm under the recoil. The loud sound triggers me, causing tears to flow into my eyes and obscure my vision as I fire wildly.
	A sharp pain flashes through my face as it collides with something heavy, and I am literally raped as someone grabs my arms. Exhausted from firing off three rounds, my hands let the pistol fall to the ground. The hood is ripped off of my head, and I gasp as I get a look at the cis...thing literally raping me.
	It’s tall, and wearing a blue t-shirt. Its skin is dark green, and I can tell from its grasp that it’s slimey. Its think orange lips are curved into a smug grin.
	“Feels bad man” it says, at it levels a rifle at my face.
“No...no, you’re just a meme!” I squeak. Another thing, a bipedal gorilla wearing a MAGA hat, grabs hold of my other arm.
	“LOOKS LIKE WE GOT US SOME BAD HOMBRES!”
I look up, horrified. Trump is standing on stage. There are three bullet holes, dead center in his suit. But he’s grinning at me. He opens his mouth and spits into his hand.
	Three bullets. Completely intact, as though they had been ripped out of the casing.
I shit my assless chaps, just as the rest of the Klan outfit is ripped off, exposing the bondage gear, trans pride flag, and numerous arm tattoos of LGTB+ symbols, severed penises, “proud cuck” letterings, bicycles, maps of South America, hammers and sickles, and burning Amerikkkain flags.
	I have one last hope. “DRUMPF!” I shout triumphantly. “Pokemon Go To The Polls! Current Year! I’MWITHHER!”
	Trump looks mildly bemused, and then roars with laughter. “YOUR MEMES HAVE NO POWER HERE, HOMBRE!”
	A chant begins in the stadium. “Grab ‘em by the pussy! Grab ‘em by the pussy!”
Trump looks around, grinning smugly. “Well, I’m sure that this one doesn’t have a pussy down there...but I can try anyway!”
With a powerful leap, Trump bounds of the stage and charges towards me. My female testicals clench in horror at the impending display of male privilege.
	Trump’s hand collides with my crotch, a crushing blow that liquefies what remains of my hormonally shrunk female balls, scrotum, and penis. The force of Trump’s pussy grab is so great that it tears me out of the grasp of the frogman and the gorilla, and I hurtle into the sky. My life flashes before my eyes; my dad literally raping me when he spanked me as a child for stuff my headmates did, my mom literally raping me by telling me to get a job, my first tumblr post, all the exact dates and times I was literally raped by not being called by my prefered pronouns, every single moment I was oppressed by gamergate alt-right trolls on twitter. It stops as gravity takes hold of my Healthy-At-Any-Size body and begin falling back towards earth. I manage to look down in time to witness Trump winding up a punch.
	The Trump Train hits me square in the gut, and thrusts me downwards. I feel my intestines split, my kidneys burst, my ribcage shatter. I slam into the ground and a spray of organ bits, bone rubble, and blood sprays out of my mouth. Trump stands over my broken form, cracking his knuckles and grinning.
	Using the last strength I have in my mained carcass, I whisper one word.
“H..hh..howwww?”
Trump gives a hearty laugh, and grabs at his suit. With a flex, he easily rips it off, exposing the toned, orange muscle beneath.
	Emblazed on his chest is a tattoo of a frog. An unearthly glow seems to emanate from it.
“MEME MAGIC SON!” Trump shouts, as he raises up his foot. “KEK BE PRAISED!”
He slams his polished leather shoe down on my face, and all goes dark.