Author's note: Title of this fic is an exact quote from Ron DeSantis in 2023.
Who, by the way, is also bragging about how he "literally threatens trans existence".
As you may or may not know, I am a trans man who has been living as male since 2013-2014. The trans agenda is average life expectancy; I just want to live my boring-ass, quiet life in peace and not have to worry about, you know, concentration camps.
I don't know why Ron DeSantis is going after transgender people so much, and as far as "men can get pregnant": most [but not all] trans men are tokophobic, myself included, so he's obsessing over a tiny minority within a tiny minority. [Does he have some kind of transmasc mpreg fetish that he's not telling us about?]
Welp Ronnie pal, buddy, you earned this. Welcome to the Corn jungle, motherfucker.
Obligatory disclaimer: not calling for IRL harm/violence, in case "Ron DeSantis gets pregnant by Sauron" didn't make this obvious. I do not own Morgoth or Sauron thank fuck; Jane, Juniper and Larry are mine and Detergent's. All illustrations in this fic are mine, made with rendering software, photoshop and lots of fucking eyebleach.
This fic is lovingly dedicated to Detergent for suggesting the bit about the broom and the vacuum cleaner. This Bud Light's for you.
2023
Sauron let out a long string of expletives in the Black Speech as he saw the latest series of unnecessary, frivolous expenditures his son Larry had run up on his dime. He had recently lectured Larry - again - about living frugally and not calling attention to himself and the illicit activities of "the family business", yet here was a list of "business supplies" that included legitimate items as well as Armani suits, diamond jewelry, champagne, caviar, Wagyu steak and high-end haircare and skincare products, as if Larry thought his father was too stupid to notice. Sauron rolled his eyes at the skin lightener Larry used, who was already naturally pale but wanted to make himself look undead, apparently.
Sauron threw his tablet down, buried his face in his hands and screamed, and then his favorite house Orc shambled in. "Problem?" the Orc asked.
"My worthless son," Sauron replied. "As usual."
The Orc grunted. "I can kill him."
Sauron waved his hand. "Not now. Give me space."
The Orc shuffled his way out and Sauron glared at the tablet so intensely the device began to crack and spark. Sauron looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes before he ended up burning the entire house down.
The reason why Sauron had denied his house Orc's offer to murder his son wasn't out of sentimentality or ethics, but because Sauron needed an heir. Specifically, he needed a half-human heir to give him a stronger presence here in Fourth Age Middle-Earth, so he had reincarnated his half-Elven son, Yúcalórë, into the body of Laurentius Hortler via Jane Hortler - the human reincarnation of Mirubiel, the Elven priestess of Morgoth who had served him long ago.
It was clear that he needed a new heir, at which point he could dispose of Larry.
Jane was narcissistic, sadistic, and abusive, as Mirubiel had been - qualities he'd hoped to foster in his son. But Larry was an incompetent, bumbling fool and not someone who could be trusted to help him subjugate the human race. Even if Sauron had wanted to touch Jane, who had not aged well and seemed to prefer women anyway, he felt he needed someone more evil than even Jane Hortler to make sure his next son was properly evil and not simply an idiot with a mean streak.
But who? Who, in the world of Men, was evil enough?
Ron DeSantis's blood was boiling.
Since the perverse orgy last year where he'd discovered his gay side and his love of cross-dressing, he'd been secretly hiring rentboys and occasionally hooking up with men on Grindr who were well-paid for their silence; a few of them had "accidents" within weeks of the encounter.
But some of those men on hookup apps had vaginas. Men with vaginas. Men! With vaginas! Muscular, hirsute men whose clitoris growth on T made his own natural-born penis look even more sad and pathetic. He just couldn't stand for it. The more he thought about trans men and their manly bodies, all oiled up, going against nature being all... hairy... and muscular... with their big, hard clits that made his penis look like a raisin...
DeSantis found himself on Archive Of Our Own, reading depraved, filthy, perverted, deviant porn with transmasculine characters. Much of which was mpreg.
DeSantis's cock was hard and throbbing, as red as his rage. He caught himself and clicked out of the tab, but he couldn't stop thinking about all of the transmasc mpreg porn he'd just glimpsed at on AO3, couldn't stop thinking about hairy, muscular, manly bodies with pregnant bellies, nipples swollen with milk. "Birthing people", the Left called it. "Chestfeeding." He thought about what it would be like to suck on a trans daddy's milked-up nipples, so much milk that it ran down his chin. Do you like that, you dirty slut? he imagined a trans daddy asking him. I'll give you something else to drink. Piss all over him, hot and salty...
Just before Ron DeSantis could come in his pants, he began to have a tic - he'd attempted hypnotizing himself to snap out of it when he had homosexual urges, and the programming kicked in just in time. "WOKE!" DeSantis bellowed at the top of his lungs. "MARXISM! WOKE! TRANS AGENDA! WOKE! MARXIST! THE LEFT! WOKE! WOKE! MARXISM! WOKE!"
More thoughts of trans daddy milk and piss flooded his mind, making his balls ache. Thoughts of all-transmasc orgies, trans men fisting each other, pissing on each other... taking turns forcing him to perform cunnilingus as they pissed in his face... He couldn't stand for this. He wouldn't stand for this. He needed to kill every last trans person in the United States, before they could corrupt innocent, completely straight, good Christian totally 100% heterosexual people with their sexual deviancy. "I WILL! LITERALLY! THREATEN TRANS EXISTENCE!" DeSantis yelled at a cloud out the window. "WOKE! WOKE!"
And then, a final "WOKE!"
For the briefest instant, a burning eye appeared in the cloud. Then it was gone.
DeSantis knelt before his Lord, Melkor, and reverently bowed his head. Melkor raised his right hand, where he wore a white gold ring set with what appeared to be a black opal. DeSantis kissed the ring.
"You may wonder why I have summoned you," Melkor said, withdrawing his hand.
"Yes, milord."
"It has come to my attention..." Marion Allendale, Melkor's righthand man - better known as Mairon or Sauron - stepped into the room, along with that girl Juniper who'd fucked him in the initiation ritual orgy that had awakened his homosexual urges last year. "Our attention," Melkor corrected himself. "That you have rather a lot of hatred for transgendered people. Is that right?"
DeSantis hesitated. This could be a Marxist trap. But then, they'd donated lots of money to his political campaign - and his ongoing battle against Disney - to advance conservative causes. Indeed, they were at Disney now, in disguise, for their secret meeting. Juniper was disguised as Maleficent, Melkor was wearing a Mickey Mouse costume, and Marion was wearing the wizard outfit from Fantasia.
DeSantis swallowed hard. "Yes. I hate transgendered people. Those sick, deviant perverts." Once again, DeSantis thought of oiled, muscular, hirsute bodies... pregnant men with their nipples full of milk and their cunts full of hot, delicious piss... "These woke transgendered people with their transgenderism and... their woke trans agenda... full of wokeness... they need to be punished!"
"And how would you punish them, my good and faithful servant?"
The reassurance emboldened him to speak the truth. "They will be put into woke Marxist re-education camps and tortured until they repent of their perverted Marxist wokeness! The ones who stay woke will be executed!"
Melkor looked at Marion, and they smiled like predatory wolves who had just smelled bleeding prey. "Yes," Melkor said, looking back at DeSantis, his eyes glittering. "Good. Very, very good."
"We don't like trans people either," Marion said. "They tend to be rebels and freethinkers. Not what you want in a stable, productive society."
"And cleansing the country of undesirable elements is... good and necessary," Melkor said, nodding.
DeSantis's mouth dropped. This was like a dream come true - he might get even more campaign money to make that dream a reality. Which meant it might possibly be too good to be true. How was he to know they were indeed on his side?
As if she could read his mind, Juniper said, "We already do this on a small scale. I pretend to be non-binary on the Internet so I can get trans and non-binary people to trust me, and then I dox them so various groups that are affiliated with us, like the Proud Boys, know where to find them and can... deal with them."
And to think, DeSantis had hated Juniper when they first met! She was a goddess! A queen!
"You will help us," Melkor said - a command, not a question.
"Yes milord. I will fight woke!"
"Yay!" Juniper clapped her hands together excitedly. "Genocide!"
"Oh no, we don't call it that," Marion scolded. "We need to put it in terms that don't scare away our allies."
Melkor nodded. "The good Lord told me you would 'literally threaten trans existence'. That sounds better - people on our side can read between the lines, while our opponents will think it's hyperbole and not that big of a deal, the way that horrid brat Greta Thunberg tells everyone we're all about to go extinct." By "the good Lord", Melkor meant Marion, who had been scrying potential breeders for an heir with a palantir when DeSantis's scream out the window caught the palantir's attention. But of course, they weren't going to tell DeSantis the Lord he prayed to each day and each night was not Jesus Christ.
"Thank you," DeSantis said. "I look forward to wokeing - excuse me, working - more closely with you."
"There will be a reward for you," Marion said. "Actually, I think we can give you part of your reward now."
"Oh?" DeSantis wondered if it would be another orgy. Perhaps with some of those trans people Juniper had conned into befriending her. Oiled up, muscular, hairy trans men with clits that made him look like a beta cuck... DeSantis's tiny cock sprang to life.
Melkor snapped his fingers and DeSantis's clothes fell to shreds on the floor.
First there was Juniper in her Maleficent costume, but instead of fucking him with an enormous strap-on cock like she did last year, now she had vibrating tentacles, some inside him, some wrapped around his body restraining him, some in his mouth. When his asshole had been fucked wide open and slicked up with tentacle slime, Marion approached in his robe and wizard hat.
Except he didn't stay that way for long. As if by a miracle of the Lord, Marion transformed himself into the broom from Fantasia. And then that broom handle was inside him. Stretching and splitting him as he screamed and bled in some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced.
The best pleasure he'd ever experienced. He came more times than he could count.
It was to be the most expensive set of orgasms in Ron DeSantis's life, even more expensive than the rentboys and Grindr hookups he'd paid for their silence, then paid others to make disappear. The cost was not money, however.
When DeSantis started to show - and his PR team spun it as gaining weight from all the red meat he was eating, in defiance of Greta Thunberg's woke climate change activism - he was brought to Melkor and Marion again. Juniper shat on his pregnant belly as a blessing, and that was even more erotic to DeSantis than being fucked with the tentacles and the broom, but he wasn't allowed to come. "Whores don't get to come," Juniper said before she slapped him in the face and spat on him.
"Woke," was all DeSantis could say for himself.
DeSantis had become his most forbidden fantasy, a pregnant man. But unlike those transgendered deviants with their big clits that made him feel so deliciously feminine by comparison, his pregnancy was righteous and holy. He felt like a modern-day Virgin Mary, who would give birth to an anti-woke messiah.
Even so, he had to keep it secret, so the woke liberal Marxist media wouldn't get it twisted that he was like them. He hoped and prayed none of the photos Juniper took of his pregnancy would get out to the press.
At last when it was close to the due date, Melkor and Marion arranged for him to have an all-expenses paid vacation at one of their private compounds in Florida, with five-star gourmet meals and a spa. Marion was at his side when he went into labor. "My heir," Marion said, spritzing water on his face since he couldn't cry like a normal person. "My heir. Soon, I won't need that imbecile Larry anymore..."
To everyone's surprise, the union of magic broom and mortal had produced... a vacuum cleaner.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Marion screamed, rending his hair and his clothes. He jumped out the window but didn't die.
Not only had DeSantis failed to produce an anti-woke messiah, but you couldn't determine the gender of a vacuum cleaner. It was non-binary by default. He'd been pregnant! For months! Like a transgendered freak! For this!
He had failed, but there was still a chance to redeem himself. Weeks later back at his home, DeSantis collected his thoughts as he composed an e-mail to his supporters. Do not tell my children that men can get pregnant.