“This feels wrong,” she said to the lump of slack flesh and veins in the bed next to her.

“It’s for your career,” the lump rumbled. Hillary turned over laboriously, like a beach-stranded abomination shat out of the sea.

“I know it is, but I still feel like I’m betraying my boss.”

“Oh, Strawberry,” Hillary said, “Still pretending you are a good little girl.”

“Never call me that!” Jen said, curling into a ball. “He calls me that. Every time I hear it, I want to take shower.”

Hillary pulled herself close to Jen, grunting, and wedged a fat hand into her fetal ball. “This is all that matters,” Hillary gurgled, clutching at Jen’s uterus through her belly meat, “The generative power. This is why they fear and hate us.”

“I didn’t want to have COVID again, but they said I didn’t have any choice,” Jen said sullenly.

“Were all getting it before the mid-terms,” Hillary said, trying to push her hand down and into Jen’s crotch.

“I know, I read the DNC polling. It’s supposed to humanize us,” Jen said. “And prove the vaccines are no longer working if Pfizer wants a fourth round of boosters.”

“40% of the money for it coming back to the DNC,” Hillary said and cackled moistly. She humped up her back and rolled sideways, then around until she was facing Jen’s exposed crotch, the bruised strawberry of her desire.

“How could your husband not want this?” Hillary asked Jen’s vestibule, gently scratching away nodules of dried spit.

“He says it smells since the kids, like something dead is up there,” Jen said, voice muffled by her arm.

“Nonsense, death is a delicious smell, sweet and oily,” Hillary said, snaking out a sore-pocked tongue and licking the gouge between Jen labia minora and majora, rounding along the clitoral hood and back down the other side.

“Please stop,” Jen said weakly.

“I know about you and the press intern,” Hillary whispered into her vagina.

“That was a mistake, it never should have happened.”

Hillary pulled herself closer and draped her fupa over Jen’s neck; it pulsed there, clinging, sticky mucus creating suction.

“Do you want to work in my administration?” Hillary asked, grinding into her neck.

“Yes,” Jen said, her voice hitching with a sob.

“Good girl,” Hillary said. She used both her thumbs on either side of Jen’s anus, pressing, and forced out a fart.